#I love his Ultimate comics so much man

[shokuto]

Now that it’s the anniversary of Miles Morales’ first appearance, I think we should remember his beginnings, the original Ultimate comics that introduced this courageous little boy who overcame his fear of what being Spider-Man would mean for his future

Who proved himself ten times over to those who thought he didn’t belong

Who made the choice to throw himself to a world he knew killed good people like him every day

Who faced the horrors

Who learned the hard way that no matter how much he doesn’t understand it, there will always be people who’ll do anything for all the power and none of the responsibility

Who deep down only wanted the best for people

Who hit his breaking point and came back stronger than ever

[welcometogrouchland]

I miss them so bad (Dick and Damian)

[ririazulreblogsart]

been thinking a lot about anticipatory grief lately. i love you so much that i know losing you will devastate me. i haven't lost you yet but i already miss you. we still have time, but it won't be enough. i think about what i would say at your funeral, and say some of it to you now cause i need you to know how loved you are before you go. you will go where i cannot follow, but you will never really leave me. it won't make it hurt less but it is a part of healing somehow.

[arthenaa]

my love mine all mine— mizu x f! reader

synopsis: marriage is nigh for someone your age and with society's expectations of you, how long will you have to keep waiting for him?

content: 18+ nsfw, mdni, angst w comfort, fluff, she/her pronouns for reader, he/she pronouns for mizu, patriarchal views on women, arranged marriage, jealousy, use of sex toys, idiots in love

a/n: part 2 of nocturne (interlude)!! this is for that anon who was on their finals week (ur req got deleted i h8 tumblr) and to those who requested for a part 2 !!! a reward for your hard work

Your relationship with Mizu was ... interesting.

After what happened that day, your relationship progressed into a deeper sense of connection. He was attracted to you as much as you were attracted to him. A fact that made your fingers tingle with anticipation every time he came down to your village under the guise of getting more medicine.

Your father had no complaints as business is business and provided him with what he needed, although you could see the occassional side eyes that your father gives him every time he stays longer than he was supposed to be. It was a comical sight indeed.

Mizu helped you out as much as he could—whether it be mundane house chores or taxing ones that require hard labor or a change of locations, he was down to accompany you in any way.

While yes, his efforts of providing you aid sent a surge of butterflies down your stomach, what ultimately led you to hammering a nail in the coffin was the subtle touches that he gave you.

You knew he knew and he knew that he was being smug about it. While it didn't show on his face, his eyes told it all. Whether it be passing by and gently placing a hand on the small of your back to excuse himself out of your way as if there wasn't a 2-meter space to your right or the brushing of fingers when he lent you something or if he's being bold enough, especially when your father's not looking, outright pretending that there was a fabric stuck on your hairpin and so he leans in close to you only to place a kiss on your cheek—he always has to have some sort of skinship with you during the day. It often left you struggling for words or having a flushed face.

"Dear," Your father furrows his eyebrows as he eyes your flushed cheeks. You tense in his gaze as he glances at Mizu who appears calm as he takes a sip of his drink. The blue-eyed samurai had done it again—saw an opening and took it like he was meant for it. He fooled you into thinking that your hair was out of place and offered to fix it. Your father had stepped out to get the food and you had hoped that he stayed somehow so that you wouldn't have to deal with all this bullcrap. Mizu took the chance to grab your chin and place a kiss on your lips. Your father came back shortly and you haven't relaxed since. "You don't look alright. Do you want me to—?"

"I-It's fine, Dad!" You intercept, hands raised as you shake no. "The soup was just... hot."

You glance at Mizu who looks at you from the side of his eye. He smirks over his cup.

It was safe to say that Mizu was also mischievous by nature. Despite his usual calm and cool demeanor, you didn't expect the man before you to be quite playful when it came to just between the two of you.

You did all these things, said all those things, looked at each other with things unspoken of and you're quite sure that your relationship was susceptible to the one thing you're quite sure would lead to.

Marriage.

A want for some, a necessity for many. You'd think that in your years of living in this town that you'd find a partner suitable for marriage and you did! Just a little bit later than others.

You had expected that... Mizu would propose. After all, what comes after dating but marriage? Your father and mother did that, your aunts, uncles, cousins, hell, even your friends already got married albeit some of them out of their own will.

You dreamed of having a true love marriage. One that you could be yourself and never have to be ashamed of loving someone despite their stature in life. One that you could coexist with and that could never demean your existence as a woman. You knew those things were far fetched from reality but everyone wishes to dream right?

You had tried discreetly asking about it, curious as to why he barely mentions anything but he only casts you an unreadable look on his face then a soft smile.

He kissed the back of your hand with a gentle touch, softness mirroring that of a snowflake's descent.

"... I can't," He says. You're not sure as to why he sounded in pain, like something was troubling him but you knew better than to pry. "Not right now."

So you let it go.

It was times like this that you felt the other half of the relationship. Like there was still a barrier you couldn't decipher between you. Why he often looks secretive with your father at times or why he falls silent at the most random of moments. There was something you didn't know and it often aches you that you couldn't be able to understand him unless you knew the inner workings of his mind.

The first instance that brought up the onslaught of problems that would soon arise was the arrival of a proposal from the south. It came in the form of a letter, writings neatly imprinted on fine parchment—rolled with the delicacy that of a noble.

You could see your father's nervous glance as the messenger read what was sent to him. You could hear bits and pieces of the arrangement, hands wringing each other in anxiety as your eyes trained on your father's back. Mizu had not arrived that day and normally, you would fret over such things but your father casts a glance at you over his shoulder and suddenly everything seems to have changed its course.

"Father," You pant as you gather the ends of your kimono, trying to match the pace of your patriarch as he travels all over the house. He seems to not be at rest from the talk with the messenger—a perpetual stone-cold look plastered on his face. "Father!"

He enters the part of your house you haven't gone to in ages. Not because you despised it but because you were afraid that the spirit that once dwelled in its abode would arise and look at you with those same eyes that once held all the love and memories when you were but a wee girl. You hesitate at the entrance but decide to follow him through.

"Not right now, Y/N," He mumbles, agitated as he crouches over a chest and begins digging through the array of clothes. Your eyebrows furrow.

"What—What did he say?" You stammer as you stand to his left, eyes watching his every move as he frantically rummages through the fabrics. "Father, I have—I need to know."

Your father pauses, defeatedly slumping against the chest as his fingers tap against the wooden surface in thought. Silence ensues between the two of you and suddenly he turns to you with a sympathetic look on his face. Your blood runs cold.

"Lord Shimizu—" He pauses, catching himself stammering as he looked into those eyes that were fruition of shared dreams and a love he hasn't forgotten in ages. "He asked for your hand in marriage."

You stare at him with a shaky gaze, breath going in and out as you tried to process his response.

"Then-Then tell him no," Your eyebrows furrow. Your father falls silent at your words. "Tell him like you've always told the others."

"I can't, Y/N," He whispers, tone shifting into despair. Your shoulders are low as he lowers his head in shame.

"What do you mean you can't?"

"I can't," He emphasizes his words once more, eyes darting up to meet yours. "I have always tried to protect you but I can't this time."

Your face falls in desperation as you kneel down with him. You grab his hands in an attempt to convince him once more.

"Father, please, I can't—I don't even know him!" You plead as your grip on his callous fingers tightens. He looks at you with sadness. "Please Father, I'll do anything, just don't—"

"Y/N," He cuts you off with a stern voice. You fall silent as you wait for his response. "This man is from Kyoto. While the men here fear my stature as a medic, this man has access to professionals far greater than me. He doesn't regard me as someone important and if I dare raise my voice, we might as well be dead."

Your figure tenses at his words. He grabs your arms in an attempt to comfort you. In a last attempt to get him to decline the offer, you say the thoughts that have been at the forefront of your mind.

"I'm in love with Mizu," Your voice comes out in a whisper, eyes wide and tears welling up. He tenses at your confession, eyebrows furrowing at the implications.

"You—"

"Father, I love him." Your voice comes out in a desperate attempt to get him to see you. Your hands raise to touch his arm but he suddenly raises to his feet, taking a few steps back. Your heart speeds up at his reaction.

"Is that why he—?" Your father whispers out in thought. You're not sure if he was angry or disappointed, but you're quite sure that this was a bad thing. His face contorts into a look of anger as he continues to look at you with a hardened gaze. "When was this?"

"You told me you wanted me to have a true love marriage, Father—This is it!" You look up at him with a defiance so strong that it almost gives your father a whiplash of how similar it looked. He falters in his stance but remains rooted to his cause.

"I know but not to—!" He catches himself at the end of his sentence. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion. He runs a hand through his face before sighing. "Not like this. Not to him. Not Mizu, Y/N."

Your eyebrows furrow in anger at his words. "You can't dictate what I feel for him."

There's a moment of silence as your father casts you an unreadable look on his face. You thought that your father might approve of Mizu. They after all started at the same steps and eventually grew to the path they were destined for, albeit in different fields. You're not quite sure as to what led to this defiance against your choice for marriage but it already has you intruiged.

"The messenger talks of praises of Lord Shimizu," Your father diverts the conversation. "I also hear that he is a general and part of the Emperor's Kingsguard. He is of noble stature and earned his keep. He is a man fitting of your deserving."

You fall silent at his words before finally rising to your height and dusting off your kimono. You glance at the chest, eyeing the white fabric that pops out of an array of multicolored ones. You turn back to your father.

"You raised me to not be a hypocrite," Your voice is stone cold. Your father flinches at the tone. "I expected you to not be one as well."

With that you left.

The days were grueling.

Presents after presents were sent to your doorstep and while you wish that you could throw them all away, your father accepted them and kept them in the storage, still neatly wrapped for you to open.

Mizu had also arrived less and less over the past couple of days. He usually stays for more than an hour but now he leaves within the 30-minute mark. You felt like your time had been severed into bits and pieces after your fight with your father. You saw them talking, hushed in the receiving area. You expected your father to berate him for influencing his own daughter but their relationship remained civil. In fact, after his talk with your father was what prompted fewer visits and only coming for business.

He also became distant. Little to no skinship—sometimes even none at all. He talks to you in that cold tone of his and even grunts in annoyance when you try to bother him into coming with you to window shop in town.

You thought they were being unfair. That they could freely do things like this beyond your knowledge. Watch you crumble into a pit of despair at the concept of what you believed was the essence of true love. How naïve were you.

The final straw came when Mizu stayed a little bit longer than usual. He was swift with his purchase but remained seated at the tree located just outside your humble abode.

You approached him with soft steps, eyes trained on his head devoid of his kasa and the usual orange tinted glasses perched on the bridge of his nose. He looked handsome.

"Why are you like this?" Your voice cuts through the silence, direct and swift as a breeze passes through you. You see the familiar curl on his forehead, swishing back and forth before settling down.

Mizu does not reply for a few seconds before finally responding. "Like what?"

Your breath shakes at his nonchalance. "Like everything's back from the start."

Mizu pauses before turning his head to look at you standing behind him. There's a long duration of silence between you, eyes only locked with each other as the breeze fills in the void.

"Y/N," Your name escapes his lips like a prayer. You will yourself not to fold. "I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to what?"

He rises up from his seat on the ground, grabbing his Kasa in the process. He examines the item, eyeing the material woven intricately to form its shape. You could tell that there were a lot of things in his mind. You could only wait until he decided to break down the walls he built up so high.

"I didn't mean it to be this way." He finally looks at you in the eye, those beautiful shades of blue hidden by a tint of orange. He pauses himself before a change of expression is plastered on his face. "I think it's best if we stop here."

Your breath hitches. "What?"

"I said what I said," He mutters in that neutral tone of his, devoid of emotion. You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. "I... I am on a journey and I have wishes to accomplish. I operate on circumstances that prove to be unlawful. It's best that you don't associate yourself with me. I was too distracted to begin with."

Distracted? Is that what he thought all of this was about? Your hands shake in anger as your eyes darted any sort of giveaway that he might just be joking with you. The world was pinning its blame on your shoulders and now you have to receive the consequences of its actions.

You purse your lips, stopping yourself from bawling then and there. You can't give him the satisfaction of seeing yourself in a mess. You refuse.

You turn around without responding, making hasty steps towards your home before halting once more. You turn to see him putting on his Kasa, eyes in a daze. Upon feeling your stare at him, he turns back towards you. His gaze falters.

"I'm sorry." He says.

You could never will out the words you should've said.

Lord Shimizu came on the 3rd day of the week. He wasn't what you expected him to be.

Naturally, nobles of that standing would appear to be egocentric maniacs who dabbled and flaunted their wealth in various entertainment establishments. They act crass and speak crass as if their authority gives them the pass to be an asshole to everybody.

You thought to yourself, this man could have anybody that he wanted. He was a general, a skilled warrior, and a candidate for marriage to Japan's array of elegant and noble women. Why would he pick a humble medic's daughter all the way from Takayama?

Well, the answer finally came to you in flesh instead.

"L-Lord Shimizu!" Your father stammers over his words as a young man, your age enters the establishment. You take a step back towards the panel of the receiving area, slightly shielding yourself from the onslaught of 3-4 men entering the place. "I didn't expect you to be here."

The man does not respond yet, his eyes wander the interior of the establishment before finally settling on you. You flinch back at the intensity of his stare. Your father notices his attention on you before clearing his throat.

"Y/N?" He calls over, eyes meeting with yours as he beckons you over. You grumble under your breath before making hesitant steps to your father's side. "Ah yes, this is Y/N Gojo. My daughter. Y/N, this is Lord Shimizu Kaito."

Your eyes peer up at him underneath your lashes, trying to take a peek at his face. Shimizu flashes you a soft smile before bowing in greeting.

"Apologies for not having been able to meet before. The Emperor had requested me to attend to several cases in various cities. I hope that you and Y/N can forgive my tardy appearance." His voice is proper and elegant but you could only scoff at his words. Apparently, it was loud enough for him, your father, and the two other guards stationed behind him to hear. Your father elbows your waist.

"Apologies for my daughter," He sheepishly smiles. "She seems to have a... cold."

He eyes you with a strict look on his face which you turn to look away at. Just as you wished for all of this to be over, a wave of a hand catches your attention. You turn to look at Shimizu who softly smiles at you once more.

"I know this proposal is sudden but I hope you can give me a chance." He says, voice and tone genuine. You hesitantly purse your lips at his words. "I'll be staying around this time. I hope I can get to know you."

Lord Shimizu stayed true to his word. The past few days were nothing but him trying to get to know you as an individual. He was nice, accommodating, and even dare say, a proper friend you could talk to.

He helped you out in chores, got you gifts, had tea with you, learned your ways, and walked with you in town. If you were the person you were before, you could've deemed this man the perfect match for you.

While you appreciated his eagerness in wanting to get to know you, you also can't help but be reminded of a certain blue-eyed boy every time he did something remotely similar. He talks of his travels, his blade, his peers, his interests, and you're brought back to the time Mizu let you hold his blade in your palms, brought you trinkets from his previous adventure, talked to you about his annoying apprentice, or that he prefers his soba to have a little bit more soup in ratio to his noodles.

Everything remind you of him.

Mizu had not visited in a while. You tried asking about him to your father if he ever came to get medicine but your father denies every question.

Sometimes you catch glimpses of a familiar Kasa roaming the town streets but is only mistaken by a wandering traveler. You're not too sure how long it would take for you to lose your wits about everything.

Sensing the troubling thoughts that plagued your mind, Shimizu offered for you both to take a stroll in town at night and shop for trinkets that you might find interesting to place in your room. He tried his best to keep you entertained, asking about your interests, making you laugh, all that stuff.

The question that prompted you at the start of his arrival began to urge you to put forth a topic for conversation. You wait for Shimizu to finish his words before finally dropping the question.

"Why me?" You ask, eyes gazing into his as he halts at the question. He blinks a couple of times, not able to process the question.

"What?"

"Why me, my lord?" You repeat, hands clutching your satchel. "I am but a mere servant's daughter. You could have anyone."

He licks his lips eyebrows furrowing. "But you are someone."

You raise your eyebrows, urging for him to continue. The man takes a breath, looking around before finally settling his eyes on you.

"I..." He starts off, words trailing as he gazes into your eyes. He continues. "I came here before. As a child."

Your eyes widen at the revelation.

"People talk of a man named Gojo-sensei who was able to remedy almost all illnesses. I was sickly and my condition was worsening." He responds. The city lanterns glow beautifully behind his figure, laughter of children, men, and women alike provides solace in the void of silence between you. "I remember coming in there and seeing you. Seeing your father then..."

He trailed off like he was remembering something painful.

"I remember a lady," His face softens at the thought. Your eyebrows furrow. "While your father did the aiding, this woman had brought me comfort. I was never really coddled and treated with such gentleness back home. I was an only child—a firstborn son. Being soft and dependent was out of the vocabulary."

You fall silent at his words as he looks down at his hands.

"She... she stayed by my side. Fed me, clothed me, made sure I was okay." He looked up at you. "I saw you sometimes, clinging to the ends of her kimono."

A chilling realization surges through your veins. Your silence prompts him to continue.

"I heard the news that she passed away years ago. I wasn't able to come due to my duties but I am indebted to her." He says. "Then, when I visited a month ago. I saw you—a spitting image."

Your breath shakes at the words. "You proposed to me because I looked like my mother?"

Shimizu looks down in shame, hands wringing in nervousness. "I thought that if I married you, I'd be able to receive that same love again."

You let out a breath of disbelief. While the topic of your mother wasn't something you detested talking about, her memory still was something you were quite hesitant to approach. You remember her sickly figure, her weak smile, the day your father broke. It was as if you threaded lightly along the edges of her carved path, wanting to preserve what was left of her image.

You take a step back, eyes looking at him in disbelief. Shimizu falters in his stance.

"I'm sorry, this isn't going to work." You softly mutter, shaking your head. Just as you take another step back, Shimizu panics and tries to grab your hand.

"Y/N, let me explain I—"

A swift change of air alerts you of a new presence and suddenly you feel deja vu. You turn your head to meet the familiar stance of a man you didn't expect to see again.

"I believe she said no." Mizu's voice is authoritative and deep, hand encasing Shimizu's wrist. The man furrows his eyebrows at Mizu who squints back a glare.

"Who are you?! Your jurisdiction?" Shimizu demands. He tries to pull his wrist away only to be met by a steel force. Mizu scoffs.

"I won't let you go until you promise to stay 10 meters away from her." Mizu threatens. Shimizu sweat drops, eyes glancing down at the hand gripping his wrist to the eyes shielded by tinted glasses. Your eyes dart back and forth between the two, afraid that a fight might brawl out and you're not in the mood to see blood spilled.

Shimizu was also a general and if word comes out that one of the Emperor's trusted military aides got injured by someone lower of his stature, your father will definitely pay for the consequences. You rush towards them and grab Mizu's hand to break them apart.

"Let him go," You say. Mizu turns to you with furrowed eyebrows. Your eyes soften, and you nod softly in reassurance. "Let him go, its okay.

Mizu hesitantly lets the man go and Shimizu stumbles back, holding his wrist. Mizu turns to you in concern, hand grabbing your arm as he examines you. "Are you alright?"

You nod, flustered by his attention. "I'm fine."

Feeling Shimizu's stare on you, you look back at the man to see hurt and a realization spread across his face. Your gaze falters.

He clears his throat and fixes his stance. "Apologies, Y/N. It seems that I have miscalculated my approaches. Forgive me for my behavior."

"It's alright, my lord," You respond. Mizu stands menacingly beside you, eyes trained on his figure. Shimizu glances at him and then at you. He smiles.

"It was nice being your friend," He says. He bows as respect. You curtsy back, albeit shaky. "I'll leave as requested. I wish you luck."

He leaves without turning back. You watch as he gets lost in the crowd, the breeze gently swinging your clothes back and forth. The lanterns dazzle the streets—performing a pretense of joy. You take a breath before finally facing the last of your problems.

Mizu stands there, eyes already looking at you with an unreadable look on his face. Your eyes soften.

"What are you doing here?" You mumble, lacking the energy to even be angry. Mizu shifts in his stance.

"I came back." He answers vaguely.

"For what?"

There a pause of silence before he moves to remove his Kasa. You can see his face clearly now, albeit those beautiful eyes of his still covered by his glasses.

"For you." He says. He gulps as if nervous and your eyes widen at his confession.

"But I thought you said—"

"I was a coward," He says. He heaves a breath. "I have loved before and shown them everything and yet I have ruined them. I was afraid that I might—that I might ruin you with what I am."

You fall silent at his words. You were confused, you had already seen what others claim to be the worst of him—in fact, that was what you loved most about his features. Eyes that seem to hold the waters—a depiction of nature. Just as he is about to continue, cheers erupt from the central town, you flinch as the others begin to gather to watch the amusement happening. Mizu, sensing your uneasiness, pulls you towards a nearby alley—dark and hidden from the public eye. He places you against the wall, eyes watching for passersby that might lurk in while your eyes are trained on his face.

You watch with admiration as his eyebrows furrow in their usual curl, those eyes that squint into a glare, chapped lips, and the glasses that begin to slowly fall down the bridge of his nose. Unable to resist the urge, you give in.

"Coast is—"

Mizu's eyes widen at the feeling of your lips against his. You cup his cheeks, pulling him down as you encase your arms over his neck. Mizu wastes no time in reciprocating the kiss. He kisses back with the same fervor, hand dropping his Kasa in favor of encasing your waist as he pulls you towards his figure. You whine as you feel his tongue intertwine with yours.

After a few pecks and kisses, you both finally pull away. There's a hushed silence of panting as Mizu places his forehead against yours.

"I am not being truthful," Mizu whispers, breath hitting your lips. "But I want to try. With you."

You smile, hands cupping his cheeks as you rub your thumbs across the surface of his skin.

"I want you as you are," You reassure him. "No matter the flaw, no matter what you tell me. I'll be here with you."

Mizu lowers his head and drops it to burrow against your neck. He hugs you close as bells and instruments begin playing. He pulls back softly before facing you with vulnerability.

"I..." He starts off. "I am not what you think I am."

You tilt your head in confusion as you encase his hands in yours. Your thumbs run over the scar that you've bandaged from before.

"I'm not a... a man." Mizu finally reveals. You pause, eyes blinking as you watch his reaction for any sort of context. Mizu purses his lips before pulling his glasses away, tucking in the side of his clothing before reaching up to pull at his top knot. You watch as his hair—no, her hair flows to her shoulders and then suddenly everything makes sense.

Mizu's breath shakes at your silence. "I-I cannot give you what you want—"

She falls silent as you lean forward to take notice of her features. The flush that adorns her cheeks and the eyes that entranced you from the start. A smile bursts from your lips.

"You're just as I dreamed of," You whisper in awe. Your arms make their way to wrap around her neck as you press yourself close to her. Mizu's face flushes at your words.

Your eyes trace the edges of her features, face contorted in a soft expression. There's a moment of silence before you finally continue. "My father wanted me to have a true love marriage. All my life, the idea of falling in love has always been my dream as a child."

Mizu blinks softly at your words, listening to your every thought.

"And now that I have it, I can understand why my father wanted me to do so," You smile, leaning your forehead against hers. "Marry me, Mizu. I just want to be yours."

The blue-eyed girl erupts into a smile, leaning forward and capturing your lips in hers. You reciprocate with the same intensity, fingers burying in her raven locks. Mizu then pulls away.

"I'll always say yes to you."

"Do we really have to do this?"

Mizu eyes your figure seated on the tatami, eyes peering up at her as she stands in front of you. You giggle at her hesitance.

"Of course!" You grin. "Consummation between man and wife is a must tradition after marriage—well in our case, wife and wife."

Mizu rolls her eyes as she sits down in front of you. She props her knee up and places her arm on top of it. She grabs the cup of tea perched on the small table beside her and takes a sip. "Consummation is done with the idea of children, love. I'm sure you're well aware of that."

You pout before an idea arises in your mind. You lean forward, going on your knees as you crawl towards her. Mizu pauses mid-sip as she watches you with careful eyes. You grab her cup, placing it down on the table as she continues to watch your every move. You settle on her lap, the slit of your kimono revealing your thighs. Mizu's breath shakes.

You take her glasses off and place them on the table before finally focusing on her, arms propped on her shoulders. You feel her hands cup your hips as you stare down at her with a smile.

"What?" You taunt. "You don't wanna fuck me?"

Mizu pauses, eyes widening before she lets out a groan and lowers her head to your clavicle. You giggle as she takes a few moments to calm herself down. Finally, pulling away to face you, Mizu looks at you with her blue eyes clouded with lust.

"You are one dangerous lady, know that?" Mizu leans forward. You grin as you rub your nose against hers.

"Mhm," You say. "My wife told me so."

"Ah fuck! Fuck!" You whimper as you grab the sheets behind you, trying to find some sort of stability from the onslaught of ministrations Mizu's giving you. "W-Wait—Mizu-Wai—Ngh!"

You're afraid that the toy one of your close friends gave you as a congratulations gift to your marriage would be too crass for your night with Mizu. You only brought it to tease her after all. You just didn't expect how much she'd be turned on by it.

"Where are you going?" Mizu's voice is deep and taunting as she watches you claw at the sheets, trying to get away from the intense pleasure. She grabs your waist and pulls you back down towards her, folding your legs to your chest. "You wanted this, why are you backing out, hm? You wanted to consummate so here we are."

She watches as the thick girth and length of her strap pushes in and out—coated with your essence. The noises from it are slick and noisy, causing you to flush in embarrassment. God fucking damn.

"So fucking pretty, aren't ya?" Mizu chuckles as she pushes her hips. She lets out a moan, feeling the other end of the dildo pushing deep with her. You whimper as Mizu presses deep, the tip of her cock bumping against that spot of yours. "So so pretty for me, aren't you momma?"

You shiver at the nickname, hands coming down to grab Mizu's lean arms—its muscle flexing as she speeds up her thrusts, making sure that it's the right spot.

"You've been adamant about this all morning. Especially, after the wedding." Mizu growls, slamming her hips against yours. "You want my kids that bad?"

You're too lost in the pleasure, moans, and garbles of her name only coming out of your mouth. Mizu smiles, hair falling down her shoulders and framing her face as she props herself up on top of you.

"If you want it so bad, I'll give it to you," Mizu leans down to bury her face on your neck, sucking a few marks as she begins to speed up her thrusts.

"Oh! Oh!" You whine as the spot inside of you becomes more sensitive with each bump. Mizu pays no mind to your sounds, reveling in the way your nails rake through her back. She smirks against your skin, licking down until she encases your nipple within her mouth. You moan at the feeling, hands reach up to bury itself in her raven locks.

"I'm close! I-I—please!" You plead as her constant torture of your cunt begins to teeter at the edge. Mizu pants heavily as she places a soft kiss behind your ear.

"I am too." Her breath shakes as her hips falter. It doesn't take long before you climax, body arching and shivering from the intensity of the pleasure. Tears begin streaming down your face as you twitch with each thrust she gives you. She smiles placing a soft kiss on your lips. "Good girl."

Mizu follows shortly behind, coming in grunts and low moans before slumping down against you. There's a moment of reprieve before Mizu props herself up once more to take a look at your afterglow.

You smile up at her, hand coming up to brush her hair over her ear. Mizu leans against your touch.

"I love you." You mumble softly. Mizu gazes into your eyes with a love so true that it warms your very being.

"I love you too."

a/n: mwehheheheheeh hope yall enjoyed that <3 not proofread will do it later mwehe

[superblysubpar]

modern!husband!steve harrington x wife!you

2,603 words

warnings: so like, technically, you don't have to read "We'll Call It Love" , my modern steve series, BUT you're missing soooooo much that got these two idiots here, so I really encourage you to do so. This scene is so so so much more fun if you know all that led up to it, I promise. anyways: | alcohol mentions, slight descriptions of use by reader | smut (public - you get caught *kind of* / fingering / piv unprotected intercourse - creampie / wife,mom,breeding, all the kinks from one Mr. Harrington) - 18+ as always

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event - don't forget to vote for tomorrow at the bottom of the fic!

A/N: I just wanted to say again, thanks for loving We'll Call It Love so much. I actually got to go see the band COIN last night, the music that inspired the fic, the screenplay, and just...wow. I don't have other words for it. Idk, feeling very sappy for all of you today and this story that means so much to me. Thanks for being here, it was fun to revisit these two 💛 and *now* I'm done with them.

Probably.

The day hadn’t been without its issues, but he’d expect nothing less, when it comes to the two of you.

First, there was Eddie’s girlfriend showing up in fake blood, late, covered in swatches of dark and gory fake gashes and goo all down her arms as she frantically rushed past him and shouted something about busy season and don’t worry, his bride was gonna look beautiful and not in a tragically haunting poetic way but in a romantic sunset kissed glowing kind of way.

Which, you did.

But then, there was an issue with the cake, which, wasn’t supposed to be a cake, but a bunch of peach pies. Robin and Nancy were whispering loud enough to bring him into the kitchen, both of their mouths snapped shut as Steve blinked at the largest solitary pie he’d ever seen. It was massive, comically so, and Robin was waving her hands at him, it’s going be fine spilling out of her lips that had just been freshly glossed for photos. Nancy was on the phone with a bakery and then Eddie was stumbling through the door shouting about canceling the order. He smiled at Steve and told him that you started crying which made him frown and start towards the direction Eddie had just come from, but his groomsman and your best man stopped him, assured him that then you started laughing, that you said your parents would have loved it.

Which, ultimately led to issue number three.

Robin had approached him slowly, fixing his tie, before she whispered that they couldn’t find you, but that there was a note, with his name on it. He had grabbed it with trembling fingers, only to find it didn’t say anything like sorry or I can’t do this, but a quote:

“I’ll have what she’s having.”

He rushed past Robin, shouted about being right back.

Steve found you on a balcony, which took a little bit of work, asking the front desk if anyone booked a room under Buttercup, or Allie, Kate, and ultimately Sally Albright. Then they wouldn’t give him the room number till he confirmed his name was Harry Albright, not Harry Burns. His breath caught in his chest when you turned to look at him, chin quivering and a quiet greeting for him before you started crying. It all ended alright, after you talked about your parents and him and all of it and he kissed you and made a joke about wedding curses. If seeing you in your dress before the ceremony already happened, where was the harm in a sunset balcony quickie?

You didn’t go for it that time, only grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the room with you, asking if he was ready to get married.

Which he really fucking was.

The floor to ceiling windows overlooking the skyline had been good in theory, letting in the beautiful, breathtaking sunset as you said your vows. But they also let in the warmth, the room an oven, leading you to laughing during the ceremony and swiping at his temple with your handkerchief and Eddie fanning Robin while she officiated. And cried.

There was so much crying.

But it was perfect.

You were perfect.

“Sir?”

Steve blinked away from where he was watching you take pictures in the vintage photobooth, you, Robin, Nancy, and Eddie’s girlfriend were all crammed in, sitting on each other’s laps, to the attendant in front of him.

Perfect, but distracting.

“So sorry, what did you ask?”

The venue employee smiled, like he knew the look on Steve’s face well, and then he shook his head. “Nothing to apologize for, sir. I was just letting you know that all the gifts are put away and locked in the car downstairs as instructed by your wife. Anything else I can do for you?”

His wife.

Steve looked over at you again, sighing as you tilted your head back in a laugh at the images in Robin’s hand.

He smiled at the man in front of him and shook his hand, “No, thank you.”

You felt him before you saw him, or rather, smelt him.

Your body spun to find the source of the salty and fried scent to see Steve holding a container of fresh french fries and a smile and eyes that seemed to be perfectly made, and only for you.

“Hey Mrs. Harrington,” he kissed your cheek, lips lingered against your skin as he asked, “Hungry?”

“Starving,” you groaned, your body crumpled against his as you exchanged your glass of champagne for the fries you knew would end up being a great late night snack offered. Warmth filled your stomach at the sound of your new last name, like a lovesick idiot you swore you’d never be.

Steve lifted a fry to your mouth, eyes a deep burnt amber in the low reception lighting as he watched your lips part and steal the fry from between his fingers, his tongue with a mind of it’s own, swiping out over his bottom lip as yours brushed the pad of his thumb.

You snorted.

“You’re so easy, Harrington.”

Steve lifted the fries away from you, eyes glinting as you pouted and reached for them half-heartedly, content to just lean against his body instead as he joked, “Hey. We’re married. You have to be nice to me now.”

Warm breath hit his jaw as you huffed, “Well, if I knew that was the rule, I never would have said I do a few hours ago.”

A kiss was pressed to his neck despite your words, right against his two freckles, then a smile ghosted against his skin when you heard the low rumble in his chest.

Steve’s lips brushed your ear as he bent down, speaking softly, lowly, and sending the warmth between your stomach directly between your legs.

“Don’t start something you can’t handle, honey.”

Your head lifted, stares at one another challenging and hopelessly and sickeningly in love to anyone who was watching.

“Oh,” you laughed, quietly, leaned in to whisper against his lips, “I think I can handle you just fine, Mr. Harrington.”

He had you in the bathroom not even a minute later, one hand locking the door behind him and the other pressing over your mouth as you giggled.

Steve’s mouth was all over your neck as his hands found your hips, guiding you to the counter.

“You’re so beautiful,” words warm and sticky and sweet against your skin as your head fell back against his shoulder in a gasp when his lips found a new spot behind your ear. “Can’t believe I’m married to you. Can’t believe you said yes. Can’t believe you’re all-“

His hand smacked at your ass as he grabbed a fistful of it, scrunching up the fabric of your dress you could care less about now as he growled in your ear the word, “Mine.”

“Steve,” you hated how breathless you sounded, hated how he’d barely touched or kissed you and you were wrecked already, “Hurry.”

He whined into the crook of your neck, spun you and let his nose trace along the straps of your dress, across the lace covering your chest as his mouth followed, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

Steve knelt, regretfully removing his lips from your skin so he could carefully lift your dress, handing it to you with a quiet, “Hold this, honey.”

He pressed a kiss to your check as you did what you were told, but then he got a proper look at you and your lip was captured between your teeth at his groan, from the way his hands ran through his hair.

“Fuck,” he sighed, as his finger trailed up your thigh and found custom, cream colored straps and shiny buckles and pretty lace you’d ordered just for him. “Look at you.”

“You like it?” The question answered by Steve’s own lip bitten raw, his fingers still roaming higher, up the sides of your cunt, already soaked.

“Baby,” Steve laughed, eyes cast down between your bodies, watching carefully as his fingers slipped beneath the wet lace. “Do I like it? I love it.”

“That’s,” your head fell back, exposing your neck his mouth was grateful for. Distracted by the way he dragged his fingers through you, swirled around your clit, the same way his tongue was against your throat. “Go-good.”

Steve pressed against your clit harder, humming against your skin where his mouth was still latched to when your body shook underneath him. Your thighs clamped around his hand, yours clutched at his shoulders with fistfuls of your dress still between your fingers.

He removed his fingers from you, quick to make work of his buckle and pants, aligning himself with you but hesitating just as his tip brushed against your entrance.

Steve looked up at you, under his lashes that cast shadows against pink cheeks dotted with freckles. He gazed at you with the kind of look that you imagined you gave a sunset. Admiring, awed, like you were taking in its beauty the first time every time. Like you knew your time with it might be fleeting, so you had to watch it every second so you didn't miss a single second of it.

He leaned in and let his lips brush over yours tenderly, deciding to take his time and forget the frantic pace you both had started with.

He murmured into your lips as they parted in a sigh beneath his kiss.

“I love you. So much. I think I’ve loved you since I saw you in that bar, I texted Robin about soul mates before I talked to you, I-“

You caught his top lip between yours, an over too quick kiss, but then you were speaking into the corner of his mouth, against his jaw.

“I love you too.”

Steve’s forehead knocked yours, your hips wiggled, making his dick twitch as you stared into each other’s eyes.

“Ready, Mrs. Harrington?”

The tip of your nose brushed his as your laugh bubbled out of you, voice all sarcastic and fond, “Ready? I’ve been ready, Steve. You’re the one taking his tim-ohmygod.”

Steve’s smug smirk twitched in front of you as he thrust into you while fake grumbling, “Me? How about you miss I’m gonna wait over a year to say I love-fuckyoufeelsogood…”

He rolled his hips, only getting deeper, and your thighs tightened on the outside of his, head thrown back against the mirror from the feeling of him inside you, which he followed. His lips skated over your cheek, your jaw, as he slowly pulled out of you and thrust back in.

Your mouth fell open with each drag against your walls that cling to him, that want him to stay there. A noise catches in the back of your throat every time he pushes into you, each time only harder and deeper as he babbled.

“Sorry, I wanted,” he grunted, mouth finding yours only to kiss you once and keep talking, “The first time I have sex with my wife to last, to linger, to-“

Your mouth captured his in a kiss this time, tugging on his bottom lip and gasping into his open mouth when he thrust faster, shallower, your name a begged breath between the two of you.

“Sorry, I didn’t want to wait anymore,” you whimpered, your dress left your fingers so you could grip the back of his head, card your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck and tug, “To finally have sex with my husband.”

Steve moaned at the word husband, twitching inside of you, which made you grin at the way his hips stuttered, at the way his bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

“Yeah?” You gripped at the back of his head a little harder, knowing what each other liked now. He frantically pushed under the fallen dress to find your clit again with ease, trying to get the upper hand once more as you asked, “You like me calling you my husband, Steve?”

Your mouth brushed the apple of his cheek, it kissed his temple as he fell forward, thrusting faster and making quick figure eights against your nerves, gasping at your teasing.

“Wanna tell everyone I’m your wife? Tell ‘em I’m a Harrington?” Your stomach clenched at the thought too, at the pace which Steve slammed into you even harder, hips meeting in a filthy grind as your head knocked against the mirror. The thumps mingling with the sound of how you were coating him, all a little louder in the bathroom and only making you both a little more turned on.

His forehead pressed to yours as he nodded, lips of parted mouths catching every time he thrust. He moaned, he begged, “Yeah, yeah. Wanna tell them. Wanna…want…pregnant. Mine.”

Your back arched, hand searching until it found his, lacing your fingers together. His others grew sloppy against your clit, slipping over it as you nodded. Chest aching from his admission, from the way you sort of wanted it too, how it didn’t scare you as much anymore, not when it was him.

“Yeah?”

“Ye-yeah, fuck, honey, I can’t-“ Steve kissed you. Passionate and breath stealing as he held your lips to his like he’d wanted to all day. Your clasped hands hit the counter, the click of your rings together made you whine into his lips when they parted. You let him go, his name loud in the bathroom, echoing against tile and sure to be heard even on the moon as his hips stuttered when you clenched around him. Your stomach burned and your eyes blinked rapidly, sure you weren’t on the planet anymore from the amount of stars you could see as his warmth spilled into you.

It takes a second for you both to come back down to earth, for Steve to laugh, for you to press your hands to your cheeks as you looked down at the mess you’d made of yourselves.

Steve kissed at sweat kissed skin, tenderly cleaning you up as you joked with each other, sleepy eyelids and content smiles. Slow kisses that left you both sighing in between lingering touches that weren’t out of necessity, but just because you wanted to be touching.

Completely in love.

He helped you off of the counter and winced at the way your dress fell down all crinkled and obviously mussed. You shrugged before running a hand though his hair, messing it up even more than you already had, then you untied his tie and let it hang from around his neck saying something about it only being fair.

He grabbed your hand, fingers curled into yours as he kissed your knuckles and led you out of the bathroom.

Robin was the first to slow clap.

Your nose pressed to his shoulder, a groaned god dammit on your lips against his suit jacket.

Then Rocketman was blasted on the speakers, a loud “Annnnnnnd Buckley owes me one hundred dollars!” comes from Eddie at the bar, earning a smack to his chest from his girlfriend, which was nice, until she said “I get fifty of that and you know it.”

And it’s all fine, Steve doesn’t really care, because most of the guests are gone and you’re laughing and heading over to grab pie, flicking Eddie’s ear as you went.

Robin slid up next to Steve, shaking her head. “Wow. I really had faith in you Harrington. A bathroom? On your wedding night? I know you two are animals, but you couldn’t wait to have your wife in, oh, I don’t know, a private bedroom?”

Steve only smiled at the way Nancy handed you a water as you caught peach filling from your lip, while you played with the little ‘S’ dangling between your collarbones with your left hand, the large blue sapphire stone sparkling next to glittering diamonds in the light.

His wife.

For those of you who don't know, Leather and Lace was an Eddie series I started when I first started writing for the fandom. I only posted two chapters, and I just fell out of writing it. It was something I was holding close to me, and I wanted to really tell it right. I've been poking at it a lot lately, and the story has changed so much, and I'd love to share it again soon. But for now, have a little blurb from it tomorrow, and I'd really love to hear what you think. This Eddie is a childhood best friend, an enemy, a stranger, and hopefully, one day, a lover. Okay, anyways, happy voting!

*voting will close at 10am CST tomorrow, 10/3

[halfblackwolfdemon]

new chap new chap new chap 👻🎉

[throwaway-yandere]

I Got Reincarnated As A Server NPC In An Otome Game But A Capture Target Won’t Leave Me Alone (Yandere!Diluc Ragnvindr/Reader)

a/n: fasghadsa this is my thank-you fic for @poptartsthings for supporting my fics for the past year!!! thank you for the tips huhuhuhu ;;;—;;; hence, I wrote this diluc fic for *clears throat* "mommy milkers". Enjoy this self-aware yandere otome game!duke diluc ragnvindr!!!

unreliable synopsis: what if you got isekai-d in your favorite otome game and one of the Love Interests found out they aren’t a real person? (or, ya know, whatever the title said lmao)

"Bottoms up, Duke Ragnvindr!"

"No matter how enthusiastic you are, I remain inclined to think that this is a horrible idea, (Y/n)..."

Reluctantly swirling a small amount of fire-water while wearing gloves, the duke saw how the alcohol hardly made a wave. Unsatisfied, he diverted his attention and observed the NPC pour their drink.

"In all honesty, your grape juice is worth more than this, (Y/n)–"

"Shush!" With a flamboyant and dismissive wave, the generic common mob silenced one of the Main Characters. "Don't ruin the mood, now. I had to pull a few strings to get this bad boy right here. It’s such a shame that Mister “Best Boy” Albedo can't come, so we have to make sure I get my money’s worth off of these bottles. It’d be such a waste of francs."

"Wasted like the thousand francs wine you clumsily spilled last year?"

"Don't bring that up again, please."

"Why not?" He chuckled. "If you hadn't, I wouldn't have met you."

"If I hadn't, I would've been drinking with Villager B..." They muttered as they grabbed another glass from the cupboard.

He pretended not to have heard it.

They are both aware that their destinies follow different paths. No matter how hard one of them tries to walk next to the other, this cruel fate will separate them with a penalty that is even more agonizing than the last. All because (Y/n) was a real person, and Diluc was not.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr is this game’s easiest route: the typical childhood friend who falls for the heroine– Princess Lumine– first. In this genre, he falls into the category of those love interests who are incredibly austere with themselves that they were unable to enjoy the small things in life outside work. Ultimately, he follows the cliche of protecting the heroine from harm until she remembers that they used to play together as children in the palace gardens. Which, in itself, is quite a feat since the duke was not a man many could befriend. Unless you count Chief Justice Ajax as his greatest comrade, then perhaps he could finally add item number 11 to his list of trusted people.

The “Duke of the South” only favored audiences for those he was willing to invest in— after all, he’s famously known for having a “good signature.” It may seem like a compliment for uneducated nouveau rich men, but those with an eye for Gaciean politics knew how much power he has as the head of the Department of Military Affairs. Tales about his on-and-off disputes with the Chief Ajax circled as frequently as Teyvat Time’s popular Paimon-The-Friendly-Fae’s comic strips. Some loved his obsession with national security whilst some were quick to call him a pampered weapon hoarder, but if there’s one thing everyone can agree it’s that they fear the southern duke.

Now, after introducing a political figure with crimson locks of hair and domineering combat prowess, it’s certainly a tough sell to introduce the last person left inside: (Y/n) (L/n).

Unremarkably, they’re merely an NPC from Xiangling’s Seaside Restaurant. They’ve “reincarnated” into this world fumbling about like a newborn until the chef offered a job. Fortunately, they were not completely helpless in the kitchen. They had shown off their managerial skills from their old job since day one. Since then, Xiangling had hoped to train them as the new manager, but (Y/n) preferred to take on some responsibilities gradually. After a few days had passed, they abruptly realized that they were "Server C," an NPC with only a character sprite and a scarcely distinguishable name. The red ribbon-theme outfit from their restaurant was the only thing that distinguished them from the other faceless workers. According to what they can recall, one of their tasks is to give the princess's order of candies while she flees from her overprotective retainer, Dainsleif. It was a tense moment in that common route since all three of the princess’ potential suitors were customers from different ends of the restaurant, which were Dainsleif, Kamisato Ayato, and, of course, Duke Ragnvindr.

… Unable to snap out of their initial shock after recognizing that this was one of the game’s CGs and seeing three attractive men inside the restaurant they work at, (Y/n) accidentally broke the script by spilling the wine on Duke Ragnvindr’s coat.

Since then, (Y/n) had trailed and followed the characters whenever they could for their amusement– often helping their favorite love interest, Albedo, set up the scene so they can view his "CGs" in real life. Due to their apparent lack of stalking skills, they had another off-script encounter with the duke whilst doing so. Instead of heading straight to North Gaciea as he had done in the game, he was delayed seven hours after he weeded (Y/n)’s hair out of the bushes they were hiding in. Their first meeting was horrid, and their second almost went in a similar direction. Almost.

Since (Y/n)’s lies were as visible as their head peeking out of their hiding spot, Diluc had them drink a truth potion to uncover why they were stalking the chief alchemist, however…

… Does the phrase “the truth is stranger than fiction” apply in this case when both the earth and the sky are nothing but lies?

Diluc put on a convincing poker face when they babbled about the game they live in, demonstrating both their objectives and, more critically, their in-game omniscience. Albedo is the only love interest who changes into a feral (and subjectively "hot") monster toward the end of the novel, thus (Y/n) was adamant that he be Princess Lumine's ultimate endgame—but going any further in their explanations would be deemed a "spoiler." Additionally, Albedo’s route could only be unlocked once you finished another character’s route first… and that character happened to be Diluc Ragnvindr himself.

———

“In layman’s terms… We are living in a complex romance novel-esque system, correct? And I am the ‘book’ people often recommend to start the series with first before moving on to the sequel?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“… and I am just a stepping stone for a happier ending? A pawn? A mere puppet for someone chasing a momentary cure for loneliness?”

“Well, it felt real to me when I played your route—”

“Perhaps, but feelings do not change what is real and what isn’t.” Diluc sighed, unsheathing his dagger to break off the ropes that held the server down.

(Y/n) traced their wrists, appreciating now how gentle he had been when he could’ve gone rougher.

“Diluc…”

He bit his lip. It pained him to hear the server call his name as if they knew him.

They spoke as if they were friends the whole time right after they just revealed that his life is a self-fulfilled prophecy of unrequited romance.

And it was insulting.

———

The two have come a long way since then. He lost his faux feelings for Lumine. After gaining self-awareness, Diluc had begun avoiding what occurs in the game’s plot under the NPC’s guidance. To improve Lumine's chances of acquiring Albedo's route, (Y/n) was more than happy to assist him, so they started exchanging chats that ranged from oblique threats to routine discussions only friends could have.

Even so, (Y/n)’s attempts were futile when Albedo revealed to both of them that he knew he’s also just a character since the day he was “created”, and that “I would greatly appreciate it if you stopped attempting to produce an inorganic chemistry between the protagonist and me.”

…The chief alchemist was a smart one for sure and his confrontation had sobered (Y/n) fully. Although Albedo will never be the princess’ endgame nor will he turn into an apocalyptic dragon, (Y/n) had earned his friendship and started treating the rest of the cast as people and not just characters.

Diluc gazed out the window.

It was late into the night and rain was falling. There was not a single domestic sound emanating from nearby homes, which was a wise choice since annoying harpies would have gathered at the sound of human noises. Birds accosted the drying trees and roofs as fog swept through the streets. With the exception of this seaside restaurant, most stores were noticeably closed. The downpour buried the sound of crashing waves just a few meters outside, so no one would have known that this was close to the beach.

"Huh," (Y/n) stared in the same direction. "Didn’t expect it to rain tonight. Guess you can't escape this cheap alcohol-tasting session, huh?"

In the course of his outdoor nightly training, the head of the Department of Military Affairs grew incredibly resilient against mere storms. "I don’t need an umbrella."

"Fair," they laughed, distinctly human compared to the usual polite chuckles he would hear from leeching nobles. "But oh, dear Duke, if you don't need an umbrella then why are you still here? Is it because you wanted to see me– w-wait hold on—I'm kidding— sit down!"

…

They reached for his arm, but try as they might—

their hand only passed through.

The two stiffened.

Diluc’s breath hitched.

That was proof.

Because of this scripted fate, a commoner like them can't even grasp his hand, let alone touch it. Not when the system outright denies the friendship they have.

An NPC like (Y/n) can’t remain friends with a main character like Diluc once they have fulfilled their role in their story.

Diluc was untouchable.

He closed his eyes. Just acknowledging this pains him.

They both sat back down.

Much like how Diluc had pretended not to hear their comment earlier, (Y/n) also pretended that nothing unreal occurred seconds ago.

"S... So, is there anything else you want with that?" They pointed at his glass. "We have a crap ton of limes and cranberry juice! Oh, but I'm not sure if it would taste that good if we mix it, haha."

He could practically hear them force that laughter right out of their throat. Diluc hurriedly swallowed the fire-water they offered him since neither could stand the awkward tension. Diluc cringed.

"Oh, sorry, was it too strong?" Many nobles who detained the duke with platitudes were met with sarcastic comments, but he never hated (Y/n)’s idea of small talk.

"It's fine." He spoke huskily.

"Does it need lime or any add ons–"

"It's fine."

"... Okay."

The silence was painfully awkward... Perhaps Diluc shouldn't have threatened Albedo to sit this one out. He wanted an opportunity to be alone with (Y/n), and this is far from what he had hoped would turn out. Diluc's forehead creased as he held back what could've been a long somber sigh.

"How's work?" He asked.

"Oh, it's been alright."

That doesn't sound promising. This was a trick up his sleeves to snap them back to a cheery mood. Usually, they’d start rambling about their regulars and watch how endearingly entertaining they are. There should’ve been a quip about Itto’s TCG losing streak or how Kunikuzushi and Kazuha were arguing again over where they should place their tent for their next travels. This time, (Y/n) barely uttered a phrase.

They continued, "I don't suppose I could ask you the same, given that most of your work is confidential–"

"The Holy Kingdom’s crown prince visited North Gaciea today."

"Oh?"

Finally, he could see them smile for just a bit. Of course, they’d be interested to hear about Zhongli since he was the poster boy for the game’s sequel. Fortunately for Diluc, (Y/n) never got to play the game.

"That's wonderful! I was waiting for an English Localization of the sequel for soooo long! Was he hot? I bet he’s gorgeous as fu–"

"No."

"No...?"

"I mean." Diluc cleared his throat. It's barely even a shot of fire-water and he's already getting impulsive. "I meant that I cannot discuss the matter further. I am not like Kaeya. This is confidential, like what you had said."

"Ah..." Their eyebrows furrowed "I see…"

Why did they sound so disappointed?

Is (Y/n)… bored of him?

Diluc digressed, "how's Dainsleif?"

"Dain?" Their nose scrunched. "I haven't seen that poor guy for weeks now. He’s probably escorting Princess Lumine to Justice Ajax’s territory like in the game. Why?"

"Kamisato Ayato?"

"Ah, he ordered a crate of Dango milk yesterday," they laughed softly. "I'm amazed at how that man is barely affected by the script. I mean, I guess that’s to be expected when your route can only be unlocked by choosing three unsuspecting dialogue options. I don't think he talked to the protagonist at all these past two years. You’d think Lumine would’ve raised her wits stat high enough to attract his attention, but alas, Lord Ayato’s still lounging around East Gaciea doing Venti-knows-what."

He wasn’t paying attention to their ramblings. All their names sound bitter in Diluc's mouth. Unlike Albedo and Diluc, the rest of the Love Interests are free to interact with them as an extra. Server C had also performed their last scripted interaction with them, hence, (Y/n) can never touch Albedo and Diluc again.

Retainer Dainsleif of the West, Lord Kamisato Ayato of the East, Chief Justice “Childe” Ajax of the North, Chief Alchemist Albedo of Who-Knows-Where, and Duke Diluc Ragnvindr of the South… Princess Lumine certainly had fine options.

The Duke just wished the otome game scriptwriters would’ve let him have his own choice in the matter as well.

(Y/n) rested their elbows down on the table as they gazed into Diluc's distant eyes.

"Why did you ask?"

Diluc frowned, He admits it— (Y/n)’s eyes are nothing to write home about. When compared to an ephemeral beauty like Princess Lumine, their ordinary (e/c) eyes and visage hardly qualify as "distinctive traits." Their vibrant red ribbon is the only thing separating them from the street's grey residents. Yet he can still tell it's them no matter how big the crowd is. No matter how much they look like an “NPC”, to him at least it was a face worth seeing. Even if they mesh into a blob of slime, he can sense their essence through and through.

Although he can now barely make out the features on their face, nothing on this false earth can convince him that he wasn’t talking to the love of his life.

"I..." Diluc loosened his collar, suddenly growing hot at the intensity of their stare. "I simply wished to learn how the two other Love Interests are doing. I’ve had a chat with Ajax, and he still acts like a quote-on-quote “yandere” as you had explained before."

“Is that all?”

Diluc nodded.

"Ah," They shrugged. "Got my hopes up there– I thought there are other “Wasureta: No More” CGs I haven't seen yet."

Diluc smiled and took a drink.

"Ahh..." He exhaled, his eyelids fluttering shut in the process.

"You okay there pal?" They asked. "I know I said we shouldn't let any of this go to waste but you know I can just store them back home right? Oh, you can have some too but I don't think you'd like so–"

"I'll take a bottle."

(Y/n)’s eyes widened.

"Y-You..." They stuttered, "You sure?"

"Yeah," Diluc mumbled, lying to himself. "It tastes okay."

They grinned. The sight makes his decision all the more worth it.

"Haha, great!" They fist-bumped the air "See? Told ya cheap fire-water tastes good!"

Don’t get him wrong, he's not taking one home because of its taste. He's taking one home because it might be the last memento he'll have of (Y/n).

"Hold on, let me get a ribbon." They opened their palms to stop him from leaving. "Can't give the great Duke of the South something that looks barely presentable now would I?"

They left him with a skip in their steps. Diluc smiled.

Now that he's left alone, he silently wondered:

Just how long can he last before he tells the NPC that he wants to ruin their friendship?

———

———

Along with the sounds of gutted flesh reverberating through the tunnel's dark passageways, a man's hysterical laughter echoed. It was mostly silence in the caves, and there is a strong sense of loneliness upon entering the vicinity. Humans and animals alike would feel as though there is no life inside those walls, but the joyous yet hollow laughter came from the end of the tunnel.

And on the other side, you'll find a red-haired man at his wit's end.

"Tell me..." His words dragged out in a low growl as he grabbed a fistful of the bloody and tattered blonde's greasy hair. The man whimpered from his touch. "Was it fun? Laughing at my misery this entire time? Were you laughing along with them? Lumine, Dainsleif, and all the rest?! Did I put up quite the show there?!"

Crown Prince Aether trembled.

Duke Ragnvindr had everything figured out.

———

“There’s one regret I have now that I’ve isekai-d in this game.”

“What was it?”

“It’s just that,” (Y/n) sighed. “I never really got this game to a 100% completion.”

Diluc raised an eyebrow, unimpressed by their obsession with Wasureta, “and why is that important?”

“Hey! It’s pretty damn important!” (Y/n) grumbled. "Tsk, if only I finished your bad endings… The guides say once you do that, you’ll be able to unlock a secret route.”

“A secret route?”

“Yeah,” they shrugged.

“I’ve read some spoilers from Otomekitten's blog and get this— the last route reveals where Lumine’s brother had been hiding all this time.”

———

The nerves on the back of Diluc's palms were more noticeable as he pulled the poor man closer. Simply put, their faces did not resemble what mankind should look like; rather, they were an animalistic representation of a predator and prey. Hitherto it had disturbed Prince Aether in his rests, but it was too late when he finally acknowledged that something unhinged lay dormant inside the duke.

"P-please..." He coughed. Blood started drooling down the edge of his lips. He assumes that a few of his teeth are likely knocked in, and he can feel his canines prodding inside his throat. "H-have merc–"

With alarming ease, Diluc threw him in the direction of the shelves. The blonde fell and gasped violently when the splintered wood struck his shoulder. The gaping wound on his hips gushed out once more, bleeding onto his carpet and scattered notes. The duke was a monster. He intentionally missed striking his vital organs to prolong his suffering. More blood gushed from his mouth and the prince noisily wheezed out wet coughs.

His Highness has (Y/n) to blame for the hints they gave the duke.

If they hadn't had that conversation, Diluc wouldn’t have figured out that Aether created this “game” world out of grief for his dead sister.

———

“I’ve been alive here for a year or so but I can’t get used to how the harpies in this world look so tame.”

“Hmm? What else were you expecting?”

“Nothing much, it’s just that they look so different in the game’s beta.”

They shrugged. “Fun fact: did you know that “Wasureta: No More” was a fantasy-horror game before the scriptwriters decided to rewrite everything?”

———

"Tsk." Diluc spat and wiped his mouth with his last dirty palm as if there was a major difference. Both are equally soiled with oil and Aether’s blood; it wouldn’t have mattered.

The duke snarled aloud into a burst of savage laughter, "what's wrong, My Creator? Can't even muster up the courage to face your retribution?"

"F-Friend..." Aether called out, hoping to garner sympathy for the Diluc who once looked after both him and his sister at the royal gardens. Hoping to remind him that he was placed number 1 on the list of people the head of Military Affairs had trusted.

"Don't call me that," Diluc's grip on his claymore grew tighter until his knuckles paled.

"Du-Duke..." The blonde looked up. "I can't just... Rewrite this story again..."

"You can," Diluc spoke in a somewhat broken voice. His sanity may be waning, but he cannot deny that Aether was included in the list of the people the duke trusted. "We’re just characters you’ve written. You've done that before. You've done that to Lumine."

"And I r-regretted it!" He sputtered out, accidentally stronger than intended. The blonde scurried to lean against the wall as he feared Diluc would attack him for his offensive tone. "I regretted it. I thought I could revive my sister... I thought that would bring Lumine back into this new world. I thought it would bring her happiness if– if I gave her m-more options–"

"Forced options," Diluc grumbled, rightfully angry at the blonde's interferences. Based on his inference, three of the five suitors wouldn't have been whisked away by Lumine's whims if it weren't for her brother’s influence. And judging by his pained reaction, Diluc would be right.

"But she’s not my real sister.” Aether sobbed. “She never will be— she’s just an image I had of her. And I-I still ended up making this false Lumine more miserable."

"No shit." Diluc snickered with narrow eyes. "You made her miserable—"

The duke just wished he knew where Aether was from the very beginning. He would've had Prince Aether's head before this whole damn game even started.

"And you made me so fucking miserable, Crown Prince," Diluc muttered. 

“I just wanted to be with (Y/n).” He breathed in shakily, “is that so much to ask for?”

"P-Please, listen to me." Aether wept. "Ch-Changing someone's fate brings more harm than good!"

THUD.

Aether shook as a claymore thrust through the concrete just a hair beside his ear. He gulped under the towering gaze of those piercing red eyes. They glowered over him, and they were far from pleased. Aether was too terrified to look away as he saw how Diluc's eyes spiraled into the abyss. The air was thick with heat emanating from Diluc’s pyro-abilities. The sound of the metal rang in the prince’s ears like a warning, thus, the strength in his shoulders weakened and his muscles have gone mushed as he cowered down.

Changing fate brings more harm than good? What a joke. By the looks of it, letting fate run its course only puts the prince in greater turmoil.

Maybe Diluc should offer his head to Her Highness. It doesn't matter whether he lived or died, does it not? If she's so desperate to find the missing prince again, it wouldn't even matter what state his casket is in.

"Di–"

Aether couldn’t breathe.

"Don't struggle."

Diluc effortlessly slid the prince's entire body up the wall after grabbing his throat. Aether's feet curled up as he struggled to steal a breath. He tried to kick and claw Diluc's arms away, but the man stood his ground. Ruby eyes continued to pursue him with an icy rage that Aether was all too familiar with.

The fact that they both placed a lot of faith in one another was a mistake.

Aether's eyes started to tear up involuntarily. Diluc spoke those words as if they weren't threatening remarks, but a merciful command. Yet it doesn't change the fact that he intended to assassinate the prince with his bare hands. Aether began balling up his fists and striking him, but it was ineffective.

"..."

Diluc coldly watched his stomach bleed out like a student dissecting a frog.

Aether's vision clouded. As he flailed his limbs like a wild animal, dark blotches started to appear in his line of sight. His fingers are unwittingly clawing at everything as the adrenaline starts to kick in. Aether never wished to harm a soul, but at that moment he was aiming for Diluc's eyes.

His survival instincts kicked in.

He can't die.

Not like this.

"Si–..."

Lumine. Sister.

Aether needed to apologize to his sister.

He still hoped to say sorry— sorry for leaving her to run a kingdom alone— sorry for not being able to save her in the original timeline— 

sorry for resetting and rewriting the game just to see her alive and happy again.

Aether had so much unfinished business piled up. So many discoveries he has yet to pen down. He can't die here. He mustn’t.

He grabbed something. A fleeting crimson near his assailant's collarbone.

Was it Diluc's hair?

He pulled harder. All his strength was wasted on that sliver of red hope. Anything that would get his assailant to stop.

And Diluc did. His grip on Aether's throat loosened as the prince fell back on the floor. Aether wheezed, his vision slowly returning to him. His bated breathing echoed inside the room as his eyesight returned to him. When the prince's eyes finally focused sharply, he saw silk.

This wasn't Diluc's hair, it was–

"(Y/n)’s ribbon."

Diluc used the very same ribbon (Y/n) to decorate a bottle of fire-water with to tie up his hair.

Aether shivered.

"It seems like you wanted to choose your death."

Oh fuck, oh fuck.

Aether looked up. He shouldn't have looked up.

Duke Diluc Ragnvindr's face was red with a grin uncannily reaching his ears to a degree that shouldn't be possible. His expression was akin to a lovesick young adult twisted to its extremities. He appeared to look excited. To think that he burns up by just a mention of this person’s name makes Aether sick to his stomach.

"Allow me to heed your last wish, Your Highness."

The prince felt his whole body tense up as Diluc wrapped the ribbon around his neck.

Diluc did not give him any more room to breathe as if his body was moving automatically.

This wasn’t Diluc Ragnvindr anymore.

His eyes were empty. 

This was a man possessed.

"Ch...de..." Aether forced out his last words as the ribbon quickly wrung around him.

"S..ve... my... s....ter"

———

———

Diluc only pulled out of his trance after he started washing the blood off his hands. Elzer subsequently informed him that the duke had entered the manor bloodied and unkempt with no recollection of how he got there and that he had strolled carelessly to the restroom like a corpse. There was a commotion across the entire Ragnvindr manor and rumors that he had lost an unpleasant duel quickly circulated. Better that than the truth, he supposed. Even his memory of what transpired in Aether's basement is hazy. Diluc only had their red ribbon and the idea of winning in his mind. He refused to let things continue as they are.

It wasn't until he started drying himself with a towel that he realized that the crown prince perished by his hands.

To think that Diluc used to be so terrified of offending royalties– of accidentally slipping a lese-majeste out of his lips– but now he let a royal's soul slip out of his wrists.

It's invigorating.

Diluc not only tied his fate with theirs, but he successfully managed to cut their ties with those disgusting vermin they call their “regulars.” They can't have them anymore, and they won't even intend to reach out. No one remembers who Server C is. They are now alone together with him. He’s the only person they can depend on. Diluc's breathing heaved lower. Just thinking about their inevitable dependence excites him.

He quietly closed the door behind him.

"Good evening, Server C." He smiled. "Or, should I say, my beloved?"

Just the two of them.

They won't look at anyone else. They can't. The whole world will now feel what he felt when he was unable to touch (Y/n). Only HE has the privilege to hold them now.

It's just the two of them in this world left. After all, there is no statute of limitations once you learn how to play Creator.

Diluc Ragnvindr had successfully rewritten this game’s script.

He no longer carries any in-game responsibilities, much like how there is no Lord Kamisato, Justice Ajax, Retainer Dainsleif, and Chief Albedo that exists in this “script.rpy” file.

It’s just him and his beloved server, alone.

Diluc wiped his mouth. He's practically dro– no, his mouth is literally watering at the thought. Diluc's heart is pounding, almost threatening to break free from his ribs.

"I’m all you have now, (Y/n)." Diluc's gaze softens. "Isn't that wonderful?"

His hands reluctantly traveled under their blanket where their hands should be, scared that when he reaches out, he'll feel nothing there.

He felt their warmth.

Diluc grinned tearfully. He can finally touch them again. He felt their fingers crossed miraculously against his own.

"You’re so warm..."

He gently rubbed their calloused hand against his cheek.

No matter how overworked or ragged these hands were from washing the dishes, for him, they were silk to touch. So soft. So vulnerable.

Diluc swallowed his saliva with great difficulty. God. They’re so vulnerable right now. So peaceful. So fragile. His breathing increased in volume. He could just take them right here–

His bottom lip started to bleed. He was doing everything in his power not to cave in but his throat was starting to get parched. He breathed in deeply.

Not now. Please, not right now. Not when they probably don’t remember who he is.

Diluc wanted to see the look on their face as he finally kisses them. What expressions will they make? It's not fair to both of them to steal such a moment when they’re asleep. That's not what he had been waiting for. Not what he's been craving.

"My beloved, you're a beauty from afar, but you're even more flawless in my arms," Diluc muttered over their ear.

"And I'll do everything in my power to let it stay that way. Fate and the entire world be damned."

-----------

A/n: want to read more of this in a visual novel form? It's here :)

Edit: HERE'S THS IMPROVED SPRITES AND OVERALL UPDATED GAME!!!

[joemama-2]

THE BALLERINA

synopsis: Gojo Satoru is a man of power, status, and strength. nowhere in his life does he have time for relationships, let alone love. but he starts to question his boundaries when a pretty ballerina catches his attention.

tags/warnings: gojo x fem reader, minor fluff, angst, major character death, depression, strong language, sexual content, self-harm

word count: 2972

divider credit @cafekitsune

This story begins with a man and a woman. These two are from completely different worlds. They were brought together by nothing more than a simple bump-in occurrence. At least, that’s what the woman thinks. In reality, the man has been watching her for a while now. A man like him shouldn’t be nervous, but the woman makes him feel just that. She doesn’t even know she does it, it’s natural. And that scares the man.

Anywho, there’s a man and a woman. 

This man is named Gojo Satoru. The woman….is you. 

Now, this is not about how two strangers fell in love. It’s about how time got the best of them. How simple mistakes led to a downfall. Pay close attention because as soon as you think you have him, you don’t. Or maybe…it’s him who doesn’t.

Gojo first sees you while you’re on stage. You look beautiful, stunning, shining (literally). There’s others on stage with you, but his eyes stay on you for some odd reason. The auditorium is large, many of its attendants dressed up for the formal occasion. They watch on in awe, some even recording subtly. There’s others who whisper amongst themselves about the entertainers. 

“Wow, look at that one, her form is excellent.”

“Oh my, I love this part.”

“So beautiful.”  

The last part is muttered by him. He says it to no one, considering he’s alone. But a small part of him hopes you can hear the praise that’s directed at you. Of course you can’t. But he hopes. Hope is something funny to have, isn’t it?

His arms are crossed over his chest, a small smile on his face as he focuses on the way your body twists and twirls, toes pointed high in the air. There’s a smile on your face too, it’s fitting for the setting. The white fabric looks stunning on you, but you know what looks even more stunning?

Your eyes.

Gojo Satoru admitting someone has prettier eyes than him? How comical. But really, he’s right. He almost jumps in his seat as your eyes make the briefest of glances to scan your audience and he swears you saw him. Again, he hope you did. 

Hope will be a recurring theme in this story, you’ll come to find out.

Gojo is the first to stand and clap once the performance finishes, the rest of the attendants following soon after. You and your other girls smile, giving a small bow of appreciation. And just like that, the curtains close and the lights slowly start to turn back on. He wants to rewind time and watch it from the beginning, watch you from the beginning. If only being the holder of the Six Eyes and Limitless allowed him to time travel, that would’ve been very helpful in this story. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“Here you are.” Gojo’s arm reaches up to grab the canned pineapples the employees just had to put on the highest shelf. 

You’re a little shocked by the presence of this strange man, but ultimately smile politely. “Oh, thank you so much.” with a nod, you grab the can from his hand and place it in your basket. “Don’t know why they do that, it’s a bit of an inconvenience.”

He chuckles, head tilting. “I bet. Luckily I was around, huh?”

Your laugh almost puts him in a daze. “Yeah, luckily.”

You thought that would be the last time you would ever see the man, you were wrong, of course. At first, it was creepy. You remember calling him out on it.

“How come you’re everywhere I turn?”

“I’m a magician, that’s why?”

“Or a creepy stalker?”

“More like a curious one.”

After that conversation, it didn’t help your suspicions. But he never went further than talking. Your optimistic, or maybe naive, side took over. So eventually, you let it be. If Gojo was there, that would mean you weren’t too far away. Days turned into weeks, then months, then a year.

A whole year since you met him. It’s almost baffling how time moves so quick. Just like Gojo, you wish you could go back. He never misses a recital, practice, anything. Gojo is always there to support you whether that’s on the sidelines or helping you stretch. 

His hands feel too warm for you, like it’s a familiar sensation that you haven’t yet recgonized where from. That thought throws you off a little bit but you’ve been pushing it away for a while now. Within the year you’ve known each other,you’ve come to learn that not only is he incredibly handsome, but he’s incredibly secretive. You don’t like secrets. You never have and never will. Secrets for what? What is that other person hiding? The uncertainty draws you away and the fact that he’s not even comfortable telling you. When in all honesty, you’ve told him too much.

He’s only told you he’s an only child and that he’s loaded. Well, he didn’t exactly tell you the first part. But the second he pulled out his black card when buying you a new pair of slippers after you others ones have been used for too many years, that was when it clicked. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Gojo and you became close, maybe even too close. Labels and boundaries have been lost anf thrown to the wind. Maybe you’re friends. Maybe you’re more than that? I mean, do friends really touch each other like you guys do? Say the things you guys say? Well scratch that, there’s one boundary Gojo has set in place.

He doesn’t do relationships.

You were okay with that, really. Because at the same time, you weren’t looking for a boyfriend. You were too focused on yourself, learning the new dance for each upcoming recital, making sure you’re form was the best of the best. You were a perfectionist. So essentially, you agreed to his terms.

But can you really blame yourself? Who wouldn’t begin to feel a shift with the way he held you and fucked you like you were his lover, his wife, his soulmate? Never did you voice your opinions because you were conflicted. He was the first man who showed you everything, he was your first. You tell yourself it’s normal and that if you get involved with others, these weird feelings will fade.

However, you should’ve thought twice about saying this to Gojo while he was balls deep in your sweet cunt.

“I…I have a date tomorrow night.”

He freezes mid thrust, muscles automatically tensing. When he pulls his head back from the crook of your neck, the looks in his eyes in different, unrecognizable. Theres a frown on his face, a stark contrast to what it was before and he almost seems angry.

“You what?”

With hazy eyes, it’s hard to focus on him as his face hovers above your own. His hand holds your jaw, titling it up. The silence is tense. You suddenly get the feeling that you made a big mistake because although there’s anger in his eyes, you can see a hint of betrayal hidden underneath. Your lips part but words fail you.

“What did you just say?”

“What’s….what’s wrong?” you ask back, wincing as he pulls out completely. Immediately, you clock in on the fact that he’s turning around, reaching down for his boxers and pants he discarded on the floor. Panic sets in and you sit up hastily, using the duvet to cover your bare form. “Satoru, why–what are you doing?”

“Getting dressed.”

“But why? I thought we were–”

“Have some things to take care of.”

His response scares you and you almost want to cry with how things have changed so quickly. Your hand reaches out for his arm. “Are you mad at me? Please, tell me what’s wrong.”

Gojo hates how your voice can make his expression falter, but he pushes through, gently removing his arm back as he stands. “It’s not you, I just realized something.”

“Satoru–” you stand with him, tears threatening to fall down. He doesnt turn around to face you, even while buttoning his shirt back up, grabbing the dark glasses he left on the bedside table. You don’t even realize you’re trembling before a broken sniffle leaves your lips.

He hates the sound, hates when you’re like this. He hates that he caused this. For a moment, he closes his eyes and he turns around, forcing his casual smile back on his face. You see right through it, he knows you do. So why is he still faking? “Don’t worry, okay? I’ll see you around.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It was weeks until you saw him again. And when you did, you knew things weren’t the same. His touch never lingered longer than it should, no more stupid flirty remarks, no more winks, no more sex. It was strictly…..friendly. 

You didn’t know if you hated it.

You fall to the ground with a frustrated huff, shaky hands clenching into fists at yet another failed attempt of a cabriole. The recital is in five days and you can’t get this part right. It doesn’t help when the others have moved way past this point, sometimes regarding you with looks of concern and impatience. You were disgusted with that, but you were even more disgusted with yourself. You force yourself back on your feet and walk back to the starting position.

“Maybe you should take a break. You’re obviously frustrated and you won’t be able to–”

“I will.” your sharp voice cuts off his, gulping down the lump that has formed in your throat. 

Satoru knows better than to try you when you’re like this, so he swallows down his words and keeps off to the side, a water bottle in hand. His glasses are still on and when you give him a glance, your irritation skyrockets. Did he really not even want to look at you? Has he become that repulsed by you? He has some nerve, blowing you off and treating you like a stranger. You didn’t even do anything and he’s being a complete asshole about everything for no rea–

Your thoughts are cut off by a sharp pain shooting through your ankle. You hadn’t even felt your body move, it was as if it had a mind of its own. While your thoughts were filled with vile insults, you failed yet again. Why are you failing so much all of a sudden?

Your form crumples down to the floor with a shriek, instantly holding the injured limb. Satoru’s body moves on its own too, within the second he’s by your side with wide concerned eyes.

“Shit, are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

His words don’t do anything. You can’t even offer a response because you’re too preoccupied with pain and anger. You can’t do something that you’ve been spent years dedicating yourself to. Sleepless nights and injury upon injury, this should be a slice of cake. It should be easy. But just like with Satoru, you feel different. Forcing yourself to dance, forcing yourself to a blind devotion, forcing yourself to be unhappy. But, since when has ballet made you unhappy? You didn’t know.

“Get away.” you mutter quietly.

His brows furrow and he leans closer. “Wha–”

“I said get the hell away from me.”

Using your upper body strength, you push him away. You wished you hadn’t. But he pushed you away that night, so why can’t you return the favor? “Get out and don’t come back. You’re making me mess up.”

He doesn’t speak for a moment. Gojo Satoru speechless is a funny sight, if this were a different situation, you would’ve laughed. But you don’t, you can’t. He finally finds his voice. “You’re not serious.”

That pushes you even more, gritting your teeth as you look up at him. “I’m dead serious. Get the hell out. Don’t touch me and don’t even talk to me. Your entire presence is a distraction and I hate you for it.”

You knew what you were saying was wrong and hurtful. You were aware of that fact. But they still tumbled out. You still cried in front of him once more. And he still turned his back on you.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Working with an injured ankle isn’t for the weak. It isn’t for anyone. Your teacher and doctor would’ve advised you not to, but they didn’t know. You didn’t even remember the last time you slept or ate properly. Everything disgusted you and you intentionally avoided the mirrors in your apartment, covering them with blankets. 

However the pain of forcing yourself to use your ankle, the pain of starving yourself, the pain of just existing is something you started to savor. You would laugh to yourself wondering what went wrong. How long have you been feeling like this? Was meeting Satoru just the catalyst to your inevitable destruction? 

As you stand on stage in front of the suddenly blinding lights in a suddenly uncomfortable attire, you pray in your head to whatever god that’s listening to save you. To take you away from whatever hell you were being subjected to. You’re holding your tears in so it won;t ruin the makeup you spent hours on. Your movements feel stiff and forced, hands tembling while you can barely even present a smile on your face.

You just had to have a solo segment. You just had  to say yes to it. You’re people pleasing even to the end.

Gojo Satoru just had to be in the crowd. 

You two just had to make eye contact.

And you just had to fall in front of everyone. 

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A sudden call too late at night alerts Satoru while he’s sitting at is dining table that’s too big for one person. He almost doesn’t want to answer, but as soon as he sees the familiar name, he’s answering on instinct.

It’s silent on the other end for a second and he begins to think you buttdialed him. That’s until he hears your voice for the first time in who knows how long. And God, you don’t sound like yourself at all. “Satoru?”

His heart is cracking while listening to you. You sound defeated, almost scared. But why? “Y/n.”

There’s a breathy chuckle on the other end. “I’m sorry, did I wake you up?”

“Of course not.” he wants to say it’s because he can barely sleep at a regular time, but he holds back. “I’ve been up.”

More silence. 

“Ah, I see.” he can hear the contemplation in your voice. “I didn’t mean to call so suddenly, I’m just….thinking.”

“About what?”

“You.”

Satoru’s heart clenches and twist in an ugly manner. “Funny, I was just thinking about you too.”

And you laugh again, so does he. For once, it felt nice. For once, it felt like how it did before.

“Are you busy right now?”

“No.” is his automatic response. 

“Okay, I’m glad. Can you…come over?”

Come over? He hasn’t been over since that dreadful night. Anxiety porus through his veins and he gulps, hesitating for a small second before nodding. “Of course I can.”

“I’ve just….I’ve missed you. Wanted to hear your voice.”

He’s already grabbing his keys and heading out. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

His long legs lead him to his car quickly, getting in and balancing the phone between his shoulder and ear. “I’ve missed you too.”

You smiled and you wish he could’ve saw it. 

“I’ll see you then.”

“...See you.” 

Three words are on the tip of you guys’ tongues. Three words. But even three words can be hard to admit. So, you hung up on him.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Your apartment is empty when he walks in, confused using the spare key you know he knows about to get in. For some reason you always left it there. It’s like you wanted him to come and see you even when you said you didn’t.

After some wandering, he goes into your bedroom. Flashbacks and nostalgia hits him like cold water. His legs feel shaky all of a sudden and his breath hitches. There’s a small box on your bed that draws his attention. It’s white and wrapped with a red ribbon. Carefully he unwraps it, dread filling his stomach and heart pounding fast. Static is the only thing he hears.

As he opens the box, a pair of ballet shoes greet him.

Yours. 

Not just that, but a small letter.

He opens it with too much force, hands shaking. 

“I’m sorry. I really hope you don’t stay mad at me.

I had so much fun meeting you and giving you everything I had.

Please, live on for me.”

His feet are moving before he can fully register it, calling you as he searches through the apartment for you. Tears fill his pretty eyes and short labored breaths are emitted from his mouth.

His world stops spinning when he hears your phone ring in the barely open bathroom door. In truth, Satoru had a feeling he knew what he was going to find once he entered. His mind knew, but his soul didn’t want to.

Because before him is a sight he can never erase from his memories. 

A bathtub filled with dark water. A bathtub he would bathe with you in sometimes, rubbing your back and combing shampoo through you hair while you giggled.

You’re in it still.

Laying upright with no life in your eyes, a knife in your hand that has toppled over the rim.

If you asked Satoru what he thought in that moment, this would be it.

He wished he died with you.

—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------

And so that’s it. The story of the man and the woman. Happy endings are something neither were familiar with. 

The man now only has a memory that he’ll keep burned into his brain forever, of the woman.

The memory of,

The beautiful ballerina.

a/n: this story was loosely based off the korean film "ballerina". i loved it so much and it was just SO beautiful to watch. anyways, thank you all for reading! much love!

[justnatoka]

Creatures of the night

Poly! Lost Boys x GN! Reader

A/n: It's finally done! I had so much fun writing this! I would love to expand more on this idea. Let me know if you would be interested in that, or if you have any ideas for it. Maybe I'll write something that focuses more on the reader's relationship with the boys next. Also, I tweaked the timeline a bit for the sake of the story. Hope you enjoy!

Word count: 3.4k

Warning: none, I think

Summary: Sam wants to save his brother, so he asks for help from the Frog brothers. What he doesn’t anticipate is that they introduce him to you, the person who taught them everything about vampires.

Sam didn’t have many choices. Michael had been turned into a bloodsucking creature of the night, and as much as he wanted to help him – not least for his and their mother’s safety – he knew he couldn’t do it alone. So he went to the two people he could (hopefully) count on. If someone told him a few days ago that he would turn up on the doorstep of the Frog brothers’ comic book shop for advice on how to terminate vampires, he would have laughed in their face. But alas, here he was.

After listening to every detail about the recent changes in Michael’s behaviour, not to mention last night’s events – Nanook attacking his brother, seeing his half faded reflection in the mirror and the levitating act he performed outside Sam’s window – they took a moment to take everything in.

“This is serious, man” Edgar finally said then he turned to his brother. They exchanged a silent look and nodded before turning back to Sam.

“We’re gonna take you to someone” Alan announced.

“They taught us everything we know about vampires” Edgar explained solemnly.

Sam gulped. If this person is some kind of vampire expert, they could definitely use their help. He didn’t want Michael to be killed, but he couldn’t stay a bloodsucker either.

“Alright, take me to them.”

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

He got suspicious when they turned up at a totally normal looking house, and his apprehension only grew as the Frogs rang the doorbell. He waited with baited breath as a minute passed by without anything happening. Then finally, the door opened. He didn’t know what he was expecting. Maybe someone with military style clothing that screamed “tough guy” – similar to what the Frog brothers tried, and ultimately failed to pull off in his personal opinion – but with big bulging muscles, who could knock out any vampire they saw. Or even a shady character with nervously twitching hands and a conspiratory look in their constantly moving eyes who’s always looking around for danger. But the person standing at the door was none of that. In fact, they were just… a normal person, around his brother’s age. He shot the Frogs a confused look, but they didn’t pay him any attention as they were too busy snapping their heels together and saluting with a unanimous,

“Good morning, boss.”

Their “boss” leaned against the doorway.

“’Sup?”

The reply was so casual, none of the Rambo wannabe bullshit the boys always used. That’s it, Sam was even more confused. They came to see this person?

“We need your help, boss. Seriously confidential business” Edgar explained. They nodded and disappeared inside.

“Come on in then.”

You led them up the stairs and into your bedroom for some privacy, then shut the door just in case your Dad left his workroom at the end of the hall. You sat down on your bed, the boys settling down on the carpet. Sam looked around. The bedroom was pretty normal as well, with a bookcase full of horror novels as far as he could see, a bunch of CDs next to a CD player and band posters of the walls. Although he spotted a few comics on the nightstand that looked similar to the ones the Frogs gave him.

“So,” you rested your arms on your knees and laced your fingers together, glancing between the boys. “What is it?”

The brothers turned their heads towards Sam. You’ve been wondering how Edgar and Alan knew him since you first saw them standing in front of your house. His clothes were fashionable, his hair styled. He wasn’t exactly the type of person the boys usually hang around.

“How do you know each other?” he asked instead. Looks like he was thinking along the same lines.

“I used to look after them when they were younger” you answered casually.

He blinked before directing his growing exasperation towards the brothers.

“Your babysitter? You brought me to your babysitter?”

“Former” Alan added as if that was the biggest problem with this whole situation. Sam let out a frustrated huff.

“And how exactly are they supposed to help my brother? Don’t tell me that all your knowledge comes from these” he waved his hand in the direction of your bookshelves.

“Actually, most vampire related media is full of bullshit” you interjected.

He froze. “How did you…?”

“…know that your brother was turned into a vampire?” You finished with a smirk. “I know a lot about what goes on in this town. I know who turned your brother and most likely how they did it. I know he’s been googly-eyed about a girl who hangs around a rather questionable crowd. He’s been acting strange ever since he met her, right?”

Sam just gaped, not knowing what to say before shutting him mouth and nodding. You gave an understanding nod in return.

“Is he fully turned?”

When a confused frown appeared on his face you added, “Has he taken any blood? Killed someone?”

“No, I don’t think so. He’s a jerk, but he couldn’t kill anyone.”

You smiled at the sibling banter. “Then he’s only half. The way things stand now, there are two options for your brother. One, he eventually loses the fight against the bloodlust and ends someone’s life, becoming a full-fledged vampire. Or two, you find the head vampire and kill him. That way, every half-vampire that was turned using his blood will become human again.”

Silence fell on the room as they mulled over what they just heard. It was Edgar who spoke up at last.

“Then we have to find the head vampire. Do you have any ideas who it is?” he turned to Sam.

“Maybe” he hesitated. “But I’m not sure.”

You reached across to your nightstand, grabbing one of the comics lying there and handing it to them.

“This might give you some ideas.”

Sam took the comic into his hands, eyeing it skeptically.

“Didn’t you say that most vampire related media is full of bullshit?”

“Not this one” you reassured him.

“How do you know?”

A smile tugged at the corner of your mouth. “My dad writes them.”

You thoroughly enjoyed the surprised look on his face before he opened it and turned a few pages.

“Hounds of Hell” he read aloud before glancing back at you. You could already see the gears turning in his head, a thought forming behind his eyes, something akin to recognition, but not fully there yet.

“Thank you. Let’s go guys, we have to make a plan” he gestured to the other two then rushed out the door. Edgar and Alan hurriedly got to their feet, and with a quick goodbye they ran after their friend.

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

They failed massively. Sam was so sure about Max being the head vampire, however he passed all their tests. And above that, his mom got mad at him for ruining her date night. Again. But now they were getting ready to head to the hideout of the group that turned Michael. The Frogs reassured him that they’re coming armed with stakes and other weapons to kill the head vampire. Meanwhile, Michael can go and rescue his girlfriend. One thing was for sure: this time they were finishing the job.

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

You let out a shaky breath as you put down the phone. You just received a call from Alan, telling you that they are going to the vampire hideout. They planned to kill off who they thought was the head vampire. They wanted to let you know in case anything happened to them. You were cursing out loud while you shrugged on your coat in a hurry and ran out the door. This isn’t how things were supposed to play out. They were blindly walking into a den of wolves, having no idea what they were up against. This situation could only result in someone getting hurt. All you could hope was that you got there in time, before they did something stupid and irreversible.

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

Edgar and Alan led the way down the stairs and into the cave. It had a bunch of warning signs, and looked like it has been abandoned for decades. However, as they entered the gaping mouth into the darkness, they arrived into a space that resembled a hotel lobby, albeit all messed up and crumbled, but still in a pretty good shape. It would have been a very cool hideout, Sam thought, if it didn’t belong to a bunch of nightcrawlers. It was sure as hell that this place was lived in.

He helped Michael get down the sloping entrance, just as the Frogs discovered Star sleeping in one of the corners.

“Don’t you touch her! You stay away from her!” His brother could barely stand on his own two feet, yet he scrambled over to the girl.

“The rest of them are gotta be around here someplace. Let’s find them.” Edgar motioned for Alan.

“I can’t let you do that” came a voice from behind then. Startled, they turned around. There you stood near the mouth of the cave, your form half in the shadows. “I can’t let you kill them.”

“Why not? They are bloodsucking monsters!”

You stepped forward, shaking your head.

“My answer is still no. Take the girl and the little boy, then leave. They will go after you to try and bring them back, and you’ll probably have to fight them. But you can’t kill them here and now.”

Sam looked over to the Frogs and couldn’t believe his eyes when they seemed to hesitate.

“No! This is crazy! We have to end them now. This is our best chance while it’s still daylight. Come on, guys.”

“You can’t kill them all at once. Not like this. You’ll need a more solid plan for that than a few wooden stakes. If you end one of them now, they’re gonna come for you with even more vengeance. They know this place like the back of their hand, and you don’t. There’s a high chance you won’t even make it out of this cave alive.”

It certainly made sense. The more Sam thought about it, the more ill-prepared this all seemed. If they are really such bloodthirsty killers like Michael told him, maybe it was better to rethink their strategy instead of just rushing headfirst into a dark cave full of dangerous vampires.

He was still a little disappointed they couldn’t just end it here and now, but as he turned to the Frog brothers, he saw it in their eyes that they cracked. They will follow what their “boss” told them to do.

“Alright. What do we do?” he sighed.

“Let’s regroup somewhere safe. Then we can come up with a plan for tonight. As soon as they discover you took those two, they’ll come after you. That only leaves a couple of hours to prepare for an attack.”

“We can go back to ours, fortify the house.” You and Sam exchanged a serious look as you nodded.

“Sounds good. Let’s get going.”

The boys helped Michael carry Star and Laddie, as he was rapidly losing strength. When they passed you on the way out, Sam was sure he heard you let out a relieved sigh. He guessed you were worried about Edgar and Alan running into danger. You certainly looked like you cared about them. Shortly after they got up to the car, you also joined them. They didn’t question what took you so long, they didn’t have to know about the note left behind.

As you got into the driver’s seat – seeing as Michael was in no shape to drive – Sam wondered about how lucky they were to have you on their side. Someone with knowledge about vampires, who could also be the voice of reason if need be. It could have ended a lot worse if they got into a fight with those bloodsuckers in the tight corridors of the cave.

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

It was over. The last few hours have been a flurry of rushed preparations that morphed into total chaos as the vampires came. Sam was still reeling from all the running and fighting and screaming, the feeling of victory as they took down all of them, followed by the chilling panic as Max made his appearance, finally showing his true face. But it was over now.

His mom and Michael were hugging him, Star was hugging Laddie, and he could have sworn he heard the Frog brothers saying something about charging them for this, but he honestly couldn’t care less. Grandpa made his way into the kitchen, opening a beer and grumbling about all the damn vampires in Santa Carla.

They were all too busy with relief to notice you standing back, anxiously gnawing at your lips, waiting, listening for any sound from other parts of the house. Then a groan came from the workshop, and a smile spread on your face.

Everyone else jumped, the Emersons huddled together with Grandpa peeking out from the kitchen. Michael drew Star closer to him, Laddie clinging to her other hand. The Frog brothers were on their feet in an instant, taking up some improvised fighting stances. All staring cautiously towards the workshop, they collectively almost had a heart attack as they watched David sit up on the table with another grunt. After some struggling he slipped off the horns piercing through him with a sickening wet sound. He cracked his neck and let out a satisfied sound from deep in his chest. The puncture wounds on his torso already started to heal. They frantically turned around as more footsteps were heard approaching from different parts of the house. Sam looked at his brother in a panic. How is this possible? They were sure they killed them. He saw Michael tense up. He was pulling what little energy he had left together and getting ready for another fight. The problem was, he turned back into a human as Max died. They probably wouldn’t be able to fight them off in the state they were in, tired and bruised.

The rest of David’s gang emerged, a little worse for wear but healing rapidly.

“Look out!” came Alan’s frantic voice when he saw the three vampires approach you from behind.

“You okay, babe? Hope we weren’t too rough on ya.” As Paul sneaked an arm around your waist and pulled you into his side, you leaned into him.

Everyone just stared at you in dumbfounded silence. David’s footsteps thudded loudly as he circled around their group and stood beside you and his brothers. Without even looking, you laced you fingers together with his. It seemed so natural. That’s what went through Michael’s mind as he watched the little show of affection between you and the vampires. This didn’t happen yesterday, this has been an ongoing thing for a while.

Alan was the first to voice what everyone was wondering.

“How is this possible? We killed you” he pointed an accusatory finger at the bloodsuckers.

“That’s gonna stay our secret” you stated. “I might have taught you everything you know about vampires, but I didn’t teach you everything I know.”

“So you were with them all along?” Sam asked in disbelief.

“Of course I was. How do you think I know so much about the creatures of the night?”

“Boss… you really betrayed us for the enemy?” Edgar’s voice sounded so hurt it almost broke your heart.

“Max was the enemy.” Your matter-of-fact tone did nothing to ease the situation. In fact, it only made the boys angrier.

“But they hurt people!” Alan shouted. Dwayne took a step forward and Marko let out a low growl at his raised voice. You quickly let go of David’s hand and gently put it on Dwayne’s arm. You made sure to give Marko a reassuring glance as well before continuing.

“You don’t have to agree with my actions. I love them, and that’s enough for me.” You turned toward Michael. “At least that’s something I think you can understand.”

He gave you a silent nod as he held Star closer to his side.

“For what?” Sam mumbled. “You put your friends in danger” he motioned to the Frog brothers, his voice rising in volume, “but for what? What was the point of this whole thing?”

“First of all, they were never in any real danger. Except when you planned to ambush David and the others in the cave. That could have ended really badly.”

“They planned to do what?!” Marko almost lunged at them again, but Paul held him back.

“Come on, bud. It won’t do any good, if we kill them now” he tried to reason with him.

“To hell with that! We were holding back all the while they tried to kill us multiple times. Tried to ambush us! I say we finish them now.”

David’s cool voice broke through the argument.

“As much as I’d like to do that, you’re forgetting the fact that they are Y/N’s friends. They asked us not to hurt them.”

Marko seemingly realized his mistake, glanced at you and hung his head. He let out a sigh.

“I’m sorry, sugar” he mumbled.

“Is that true?” It was Edgar who spoke up this time. He was looking at you intensely. “You told them not to hurt us?”

You nodded.

“They were never going to kill you, they just had to make it believable. Like I said, Max was the enemy. We knew he planned to turn Michael’s family, and we saw an opportunity. You wanted to turn your brother back” you turned to Sam, “and the boys wanted Max gone. Our problem was one and the same. And now everyone got what they wanted.”

“You pointed us towards Max. With the comic” Sam realized.

You nodded again.

“Things didn’t exactly go according to plan, but it turned out fine in the end. I knew Max would come out of hiding if the boys were in danger. So I left them a note in the cave about the change of plans. Max was smart. We had to make it look like they died for him to appear.”

You could tell your explanation didn’t exactly placate them, tensions were still high, but that was okay. You anticipated their anger. You didn’t mind it so long as everyone was alive.

“If you would excuse us, this has been a long night. Me and my boys will leave you to be.”

You sent a sad smile towards Edgar and Alan as you walked past them. You could tell they still had some things they wanted to say, but decided not to, at least not now. It really has been a long night, and everyone just wanted it to end already. Your departure was followed by a long silence as they were trying to make sense of everything. Eventually, Grandpa spoke up.

“Those damn vampires, I’m telling ya.” He just shook his head and headed for his workshop.

You were also silent on your way back to the cave. Paul nudged your arm.

“You okay, babe?” he asked with a hint of worry on his handsome face.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you sighed. “I just hope I didn’t ruin my friendships.”

“They will come around” he reassured you. “And if they don’t, you still have us” he sent you a cheeky smile.

The corner of your lips finally turned upright.

“Thank you” you whispered as you leaned into him more.

“Don’t mention it, dollface.”

You looked over at your lovers, resting your gaze on all their faces for a long moment. You were just happy they were all okay.

[celaenaeiln]

I know we talk about Dick's insecurities about Bruce, but can we talk about Bruce's insecurities about Dick?

The man is terrified of Dick not liking him. A 30 year old is scared and lonely and loves his son so much that he wants to only show him his best sides. During the comic Bruce doesn't respond the first time when Dick tells him that his greatest fear is Batman thinking he's a failure, and I thought Bruce was just being an asshole as usual. But after rereading this panel from Bruce's perspective, I think Bruce intentionally let it go unanswered the first time because he wants Dick to keep looking up at him.

In a selfishly manipulative way, he wants Dick to continue seeking his approval so that Dick will stay by his side and turn to him and only him for everything.

While Dick always talks about the importance of Bruce to him, he fails to realize the hold he, himself, has on Bruce even now.

Dick just assumes it's because Bruce doesn't trust him but holy crap, he has no idea that it's actually because Bruce wanted Dick to trust him.

Bruce is so not normal about Dick.

It's weird that Dick had some expectation of being best man to Bruce's wedding but it's weirder that:

Bruce also thought the same! He feels guilty and admits that he was reluctant in choosing between Dick and Clark but ultimately chose Clark because, yeah, traditionally it is not exactly conventional to choose a man not your own age. Although, since he's older and has kids, he could've chosen any of his children but for some reason- it's weirdly fitting that they both expected it to be Dick.

Yet despite this situation being crazy, I don't think it has ever felt more right that they're feeling these exact emotions and are in this situation. It just feels right for them.

Dick always feels like he has something to prove with Batman but he doesn't know that Batman feels the same with him which is why they end up devolving into fights. They're living in a codependent relationship with no clear lines and that makes things very messy.

[phobos-exe]

Reading Wolverine comics after watching the movies has me absolutely falling in love with the "man or animal" motif that follows Logan literally everywhere.

// Marvel Comics Presents (1991): Issue #75

My favourite read so far is the short 4 issue series, Wolverine (1982), which the 2013 Wolverine movie is based on. Bascially it being about Logan trying not to lose Mariko to an arranged marriage and the cultural powers at play to which he isn't privy to. Furthermore, it absolutely dense with character-centered narrative with Logan's inner conflict surrounding the balancing act he must preform between embracing his animalistic side and his desire to be more than the killer he's always been, whilst he struggles with fitting into japanese society and the japanese underground. I could not reccomend it enough. Issue #3 is such a standout for me, all the excerpts provided are from it also.

One of the scenes i think highlight what im getting at with the motif is how Logan actively interprets an event that took place previously in the story. Earlier, he had fought Shingen (Mariko's father) to defend his own honor and for him to overrule Mariko's marriage so they may be together again, ultimately he not only loses but he humiliates and dishonors himself in the process. In this scene, he has a dream about the battle in a sequence that showcases what that humiliation actually meant for him in relation to his internal fight to let go of the animal he thinks himself of.

Despite how undisputable his physical strength is, the defeat he endures against Shingen crushes him and defines his motivations for the entire series. The words Mariko says in his dream, bascially defining him as a fraud and unworthy of her love, and the panel that follows this one saying he is also unworthy of life, is pretty indicative of his fear that his primal instincts- what he defines himself as -negates his noble aspirations to be a better man, overshadowing his morality.

It's also interestingly delved into with how his relationship with Mariko and his following romance with Yukio is contrasted in how they have an effect on Wolverine's internal conflict: Mariko's influence makes him want to strive for self-improvement, to appease her, while Yukio is able to accept who he is

Mariko's influence makes him want to strive for self-improvement, to appease her, while Yukio is able to accept who he is and his nature. The growth and control vs embracing your supposed truth serves as a new perspective to view Logan from. Basically, it's a reflection of how Logan himself is struggling to not only balance both aspects of himself, but also his struggle to accept them in the first place.

Going back to the films, I think they do a good job of adapting this method of symbolizing his self-reflection. For instance, in the origins movie, one of the conflicts I love from it is how this exact concept is adapted to Kayla and Victor. Kayla, being the stand-in for Mariko, motivates Logan to move past his animalistic side, literally telling him "you're not an animal, logan", whilst Victor is the force that wants him to ditch assimilation and embrace his mutations completely, though in this case it's much more violent and psychotic than Yukio's approach in the comic. The film version is a whole new exploration of his characterin its own right since it's more like these two opposing ideas are telling him what he should be, and the consequent struggle between what he should choose.

Though, and this is just my interpretation, what I appreciate most of this theme is that it managed to be so confusing for Logan that it circles back to being ironic. Because yes, he failed Mariko and he failed Yukio, he failed to assimilate to societal standards and he failed to be true to himself- whatever that really is -but I think one of his biggest failings is concluding for so long that he is an animal and therefore not a man, when in reality he has shown nothing but human desires, ambitions to change, to choose. He is an animal, it's just that that animal is a man.

[platoniclace]

You Ever Have Those Realizations?

You're just sitting, doing your thing, maybe reading, and suddenly, you are hit in the face with the steel baseball bat of epiphany. You have now realized why you love that one character *so much.*

Yeah, so anyways, I was reading Uncanny Spider-Man last night, as you do, because I was curious about this little mini-series. Overall, not a bad series. A little rushed, but ah well. A little odd, too, but this is X-Men; what isn't a little odd? Not the point, though. Here I was reading when I got to this panel:

And, okay, ow. Were the writers of this comic present in my therapy session yesterday?

Needless to say, alongside this panel appeared the aforementioned steel baseball bat.

To the face.

(but not the groin, that's a different metaphor of mine that doesn't quite fit here)

But it just hit me all at once. Kurt is a character that's been beaten down by life in more ways than one. He's tried, he's tried *a lot,* and he has great reason to be angry or bitter or resentful. It would make complete sense for a character like him to hit a point and give up entirely, and his rant here about deserving to stop really hits home.

And yet he's none of those things. He absolutely has his moments (like above), but who doesn't? Overall, Kurt's character is consistently depicted as someone full of hope, someone who tries to see the best, who clings to his faith and keeps pushing forward because he believes it's all ultimately worth it. And good Lord if I don't feel that. I just got done telling my therapist how I'm just so tired, how I want it all to stop, how I want to stop putting on that brave face and pushing on like a good little soldier. And yet here I am praying to God Almighty for strength to keep going because He definitely knows I have none left.

Anyways, all this to say, I love Nightcrawler a lot for quite a few different reasons, and I'm quietly talking myself off the cliff of immediately tattooing this furry elf onto my body with money I don't have.

Have a lovely day, friend :)

P.S. Extra Kurt panel that I also vibe with 1000% as a reward for reading my little ramble

[quotidian-oblivion]

I've been thinking about Jason's memorial case in the Batcave recently and came up with a few thoughts.

Obviously, there are a few things wrong with it, mainly the title of a "Good Soldier" being attached to a child. And I've been thinking aboit that mostly.

There's no questions of how intensely focused and obsessed Batman is over the war against crime in Gotham, we see him quoting it multiple times in the comics and even the movies, animated and live-action. And so he thinks everyone in the war is a soldier, including Robins. I hate that and loathe it.

Not because I'm a Batman apologist, I'm not. It's because I like to see and believe in the better parts of Batman. The reason why he doesn't kill in the first place--because it comes from a place of compassion and a place of strong belief set by an 8-year-old boy who grew up too fast. Because he believes anyone can be redeemable because ultimately everyone is human, as proven in the older Batman comics and Batman TAS when he helps Harvey, Harley, Baby Doll, etc.

And the biggest reason of all--because Batman, whether anyone likes it or not, represents a strong symbol in Gotham. A burning torch in murky darkness. A hope--one shrouded by shadows--but a hope nonetheless. It's in the psychology of Gothamites, it needs a Batman because of that symbol which is lethal to criminals and a relief to citizens. I'm heavily referencing The Dark Knight Returns I and II (animated movies) here. Watch it if you haven't yet, you'll see what I mean. This is why he can't kill the Joker. It will be completely tainting that hope and we can see its effects in The Dark Knight Returns II.

In any case, Tim was right about Batman needing a Robin. Because in the end, Batman is just that--a man. And Robin is a child.

Lego Batman is really good for this reason. The concept of found family in that movie is just amazing. I love how Bruce fears having a family again after he lost his old one.

Batman needs a Robin because Batman was originally born out of a vengeance scheme of an 8-year-old newly orphaned boy who lost everyone. Trauma lasts. Batman needs a Robin because Robin is a family. And that little boy who lost his parents needs it. And so does Robin.

I love in Young Jusitce when Batman says "So that he doesn't" in response to Wonder Woman asking him if he pulled Robin into this life "So that he turns out like you?". Because Dick was also a little boy bent on revenge. Bruce gave that to him in the only way he knew how, but a better version because he himself has matured and understands how dark he has gotten. He doesn't want that for Dick, or Jason, or Tim, or Damian, or Cass--or any of his kids. He gave them early on what he didn't have--a family. And he received a family back. And having that family keeps Batman from tipping oved the edge into insanity. Because revenge is a poison, even if it's an 8-year-old boy imagining it.

But that still doesn't change that he sees it as a war. And he sees Robin and himself as soldiers.

So I came to a conclusion.

He doesn't.

Bruce doesn't.

Batman does.

Here's how I'm piecing it out:

"A Good Soldier" carved on the memorial case because only soldiers can fight so openly and outwardly. Even if they're dubbed as vigilantes, they are soldiers. And I think Bruce thinks it this way.

So when he sees a Robin or a Batkid out there, kicking rapists in the face and whatnot, he sees how someone so young can bear so much weight. He sees how a child can hold so much bravery--like the soldiers in the frontlines--doing this because of the morals they believe in. He sees how Robin is a good fighter, a good helper, a brave one, a confident person, a soft hero.

He sees how Robin is all that and he thinks "A good soldier." Because Robin is one. With the thing they're doing, he is one.

But yes, it's wrong. Children cannot and should not be soldiers. But a) this is the worst type of fiction, comic fiction 😂 and b) Batman is fucked up himself and considering he started training to be Batman from a young age too, he himself was a child soldier.

In the world of DC comics, the people there need someone like Batman while the people in the Earth we live in need someone like Martin Luther King Jr., Rosa Parks, Malala Yousufzai, etc.

So yeah, Robin is a good soldier--a great soldier, because he holds the bravery, determination and strength of a soldier. It could mean a literal thing, but it could also mean a metaphorical thing. Bruce could have engraved those words to Jason's memorial case because the only thing he can think of to sum up how Jason was as a Robin was a soldier. Because soldiers are brave, and Jason was the bravest.

And I think comic writers after that took the whole "war against crime" psyche of Batman too literally and too much creating the abusive ass prick in some of the continuities.

But you can't tell me that Bruce--not Batman--Bruce has a case of his own for Jason. Maybe a physical one, maybe an imaginitive one. A case which holds Jason's annotated copy of Pride and Prejudice, his first aced test paper, and his favorite hoodie, all kept tidily in the case with the words "a good son, be well loved, Jay lad" written under it. A case which he holds private because it was his son who he lost. Jason.

A little boy who survived so much until he couldn't. A little boy who he tried to protect until he couldn't. His son. Jason.

[meanbossart]

re: Vellioth as the stepfather its interesting bc stepfathers n media (and irl but limiting myself to tropes here) hav the practical role and obligations we tend to ascribe to fathers ie providing money and protection and being the head of the household, but do not share a blood tie to the child in question. and it is seen as magnanimous for a man to "take on the duty" of providing ofr the children of the woman he's with, rather than duty. This shifts also means that implicitly the stepchild should be grateful for this new patriarch in their life, which is complicated because most often this stepfather occupies a place of control. In cazador's caze i feel like bc there was no father to speak of, his resentment of vellioth as The Stepfather had more to do with intruding and vying for attention from the woman they both love, rather than usurping the OG father. Come to think of it, having no experience with a father figure before vellioth probably made the shift to a patriarch that more jarring. And considering that he positions himself s the Father of his spawns, he probably modelled a lot on Vellioth (or in antithesis of).

ultimately velloith did what stepchildren often fear secretly most: intruding, appropriating, and evnetually the destruction of the family unit as it was

I might not have expressed myself super well in that reply- I was comparing Vellioth to a step father in the same way people loosely compare Cazador to a patriarch/abusive partner. I certainly didn't mean it to be literal - neither in the comic I referenced or in my personal headcanon (which are functionally identical) does Vellioth ever actually inhabit the role of a surrogate dad in Cazador's life. Rather, that is the perception that he's vaguely trying to sell to others to maintain the ruse.

I clear this up because I am (personally) not of the belief that Vellioth and Cazador ever had a relationship outside of the dynamics of master and slave, which might be a little more simple than you were hoping for, based on this ask (unless I'm misreading, in that case ignore me LOL)

But if we're speaking strictly in allegory - yes. Vellioth makes for a specially juicy satire of a step-father who intrudes, disrupts, and yet overvalues themselves for doing the least on the basis of being there by choice rather than obligation (keeping Cazador alive as a spawn when he could have just killed him off) but I don't think any part of him is doing that under the false pretense of charity - he only wants to keep Cazador around to hurt him, because that would hurt his mother.

(Something I also neglected to say is that in De Rerum Natura ((not spelled out in the comic explicitly, but stated so as a headcanon of the very smart and handsome author)) Cazador was never meant to become a vampire. That was a fate his mother very much did not want for him.)

And, perhaps, every vampire lord harbors a little self-destructive desire. If you don't invest a non-negligible amount of time and energy into making ONE particular guy super mad at you, who is ever going to finally put you out of your misery after all!

EITHER WAY this image you sent me is still very good and thank you for sending it LOL (art by @barbatusart)

[oh-no-bummer]

I'm gonna be fixated on this for a while and I hate to be the voice of negativity but I'm just really disappointed with how Agatha's story was handled. The thing is at the beginning of the series when it was clear they had made the choice to give Agatha a son I suspended my disbelief, because there are many ways in which that could've fit and it wouldn't have had to be a damning choice for her to also be a mother. But it was. I'm tired of cinema but marvel in particular using motherhood as a way to categorise women and compromise their stories. I hated it when it happened with Wanda and I hate it now. Why are women not allowed to be ? I get it that is also all a thing in the comics, but that doesn't mean it's right. Agatha was a villain and she in many ways remained one but the focus on her personhood as one centered on being a mother took so much away from her. I'm just so disappointed because there are a thousand ways to make that coexist! It could have been a beautiful story about loss and grief and empowerment and repression and love. But I believe marvel really has a problem with tying things up, they always mess up everything at the end and apparently women's stories are just not meant to be. Even if Agatha had to die, there are many other ways in which that death could've been more rewarding and peaceful. But what gets me the most is that the fears we exposed did come true, the show was not ultimately about Agatha and her grief or her love but about how she's a tool for Billy who disappointingly but predictably become the focus of the show. Rio was villainized, because she is death, which is such a flat interpretation of her character. The fact that the love Agatha and Rio clearly had for each other was so cruelly undermined by the writing. The fact that we have no closure for them, for Agatha's son or Agatha's story. The fact she now is just narrowed down to be Billy's mentor, a literal ghost of who she was, used to perpetuate the more central role of a man's story. And with this I don't mean to say that I hate Billy or his storyline nor that I hate Agatha being a mother, what I absolutely abhor is how those things became so central they obscured her story and deprived us, the audience of seeing it complete. Fine, I get it Billy needed to be introduced, but did that introduction have to destroy Agatha's story? Was there no other resolution? Obviously not. Agatha could've still become his mentor while alive, could have remained with Jennifer and decided to actually try, or Agatha could've died, and finally confronted her grief and Rio. There's so many ways in which her role as a mother and mentor didn't have to impede her character's arc. There's so many ways this show could've been good. I'm sorry if my anger comes true but I truly am disappointed in the way the media and marvel especially continue to treat women and their story. Let's not even talk about Alice, or Jen , because neither of those stories were complete, the way they had Jen's binding sloppily be caused by Agatha felt like such a rushed decision with absolutely no explanation. Where did Jennifer's story go? Her role as high priestess? I get it that it might be picked up again in the future but this is what the fucking show was supposed to be about, witches walking the road and growing and facing themselves. I have even more to say about Agatha and Rio specifically, but for now I'm just gonna conclude by saying that it didn't have to be this way, it's just proof of how little they care about women's stories that they think they can be used to further the narrative without any consequences. It feels cheap, it feels illogical and rushed. It seems like horrible writing. It saddens me greatly and I hate it.

[sundew199]

Commander, please

a/n: don't look at me if this ooc, 🫣 (also he has both arms in this cause I said so)

tags: erwin smith x f!reader, edging, orgasm denial, oral f!recieving, fingering

kinktober day seven: edging/orgasm denial for @alt-er-love-requiem

!!minors, dni!!

"Ironic that you're resorting to begging, this was your idea after all."

A thump from your head falling back on the desk mingled with the man's deep laughter above you. His comically large hand caressing between your legs, tapping his middle finger at your entrance while pressing the heel of his palm in your clit. Granted yes, this was your idea, but it wasn't suppose to go on for this long. You were shaking, looking possessed on top of the Survey Corps commander's desk as he took his sweet, sweet time teasing and ultimately robbing you of an orgasm.

"Yes but - I want to cum." Lifting your head back up and pleading with him with face and voice, realizing that he was enjoying this far too much for it to end now.

"I'm sure you do, but tell me soldier, where is the fun in that?" Remarking with a curl of his lips, a single thick digit pushing its way back into your soaked cunt, unmoving once it was inside you entirely. You clenched and raised your hips to try and gain a sliver of friction, needing something more than the tiny stretch around him.

Not liking your reaction, Erwin used his other hand to hold you down at the hip, leaning over your partially naked body with his fully clothed one, the glint of dominance and mischief flashing across the icy irises looking down at you. He hummed low in his throat, wetting his bottom lip and brushing them along yours. It couldn't be helped the way your body shuttered or resisted against the strong hand holding you down, you were desperate for release, loosing track of time for how long this had been going on.

"Be good for me and I'll let you reap the rewards of your subordiance." Letting the breath from his lungs fan over your face, tilting his head to meet your lips in a distracting kiss as he slipped in a second finger. You whined, raising your arms in the air, tempted to pull at the manicured hair on his head, but jolting off the desk a little when he curled the two fingers upwards and scissored them.

All of your moans, whines and whimpers were being swallowed by the suffocating kiss, doing your best to not try and gain anymore than you were given. Luckily, it seemed he was giving some leeway with his motions, starting to drag them in and out of your tight overstimulated pussy instead of just resting them there. He was killing you slowly it felt, and all because you sauntered into his office with a devilish idea and unaware of the lengths this man would go to fulfill your desire and more.

It was too the point now that Erwin knew right when you were going to cum, even before you did, ripping his fingers out and standing up straight again. Your chest heaved, squeezing your eyes shut at the lack of him inside you, knowing if you continued to be good, he would give you what you want.

"Open." Came the low gravelly voice, popping open one eye to see the two fingers once inside you centimeters from your lips, glistening with arousal, shining in the sun peaking through the window directly behind the desk.

Slowly parting your lips, struggling to keep your lust heavy lids open, you took the fingers in your mouth, sucking them clean. Erwin gave a half smile, letting a groan barely escape his throat at the sight of you being so dutiful. Whether it be you were so out of it or on purpose, the slick smeared around your mouth and of course your commander was quick to clean it off with a kiss.

"Now," Taking his hand away and moving your feet to rest on the edge of his desk, bent at the knee and spreading yourself open for him. "Allow me to enjoy myself for a bit, alright darling."

Crouched down until he was face level with your cunt, looking up at you with an amused arch brow, hearing the airy laugh fan over your cunt that was crying for attention. Propping yourself up on your elbows to watch, even if that might've been the wrong move, you chewed on your bottom lip seeing the prominent nose inch closer and closer.

A pretty sigh filled the room once his mouth brushed across your slit, another tease from him and doing more to drive you insane. Erwin was enjoying himself too much, both of you knew that, but yet nothing kept you from stopping him. If you asked, he would, drop the little act he had going and hold the side of your face and ask how he could make it up to you. But instead you were back to moaning and crying out once he ran his tongue up from you entrance to your clit, carefully pulling at it with his teeth and soothing it with a kiss. Your chest was raised into the air, sucking down deep breaths between the whines of his name and the curling of your hands on the edge of the desk closest to you.

"Erwin, oh god Erwin."

Like symphony to his ear the way you moaned his name, how it sounded so perfect and natural rolling off your tongue, everything about you was perfect. Letting a purposeful hum vibrate on the flesh he buried himself in, Erwin ran his hands up your inner thighs, spreading them apart farther and smirking at the near pornographic view he was met with. Your poor swollen clit throbbed before him, begging for anything and he wasn't an evil man.

Sucking your clit into his mouth while still keeping his hold on your legs, Erwin flicked and swirled his tongue behind closed lips to drive you up the wall even more, if that were possible at this point. You cried out, shook in his palms and finally gave in to tangling your hand into the thick blonde hair, trying not to push his face into you. He grunted at the slight sting that came with you pulling on his roots, working his tongue faster over your clit and pushing you further and further into an orgasm, toying with weather or not he should actually let you cum this time or not.

"I'm close, please I don't know if I can-" Stumbling over your words seeing as he wasn't pulling away and you had not will or strength to hold back on an orgasm after being teased and edge for as long as you had.

Coming off with a filthy pop, Erwin moved to hover over you, shoving the same two fingers back inside you and fluttering them furiously. Your mouth fell agape and a hand gripped onto his bicep, digging your nails through his shirt and choking on the cries from the abrupt entrance into your cunt.

"Should I let you?" Asking with an almost stern look, lips pulled into a tight then line as his eyes flitted between his hand and your face.

"Yes please! Please! Please-" Sputtering through the sobs of overstimulation and hoping it were enough to end this maddening but pleasing indulgence. You couldn't think of any reason why he wouldn't let you, all you've done was submit to him like you were asked and let him have his fun.

"Please what?" Planting his feet firmer into the floor, scissoring and fluttering his fingers so fast the squelching of your juices were nearly enough to drown out the croak of an answer you were trying to give.

"Commander, please." Letting out such a sultry response it had the air catching in Erwin's throat, making him stiffen all over his body and give in to what you wanted.

Using the last of his drive to get you over the edge, he crouched back down between your legs and latched onto your clit. With both his mouth and fingers working between your legs, you barely managed to hold yourself up as the beginnings of your orgasm washed over you. All over you convulsed and twitched, quivering whines and moans replacing the empty sound in his office.

Ensuring to help you through the entirety of your orgasm, Erwin gradually slowed his fingers, pulled away from your clit and eventually removed his fingers from your aching entrance. He gave both you and himself a moment to come down from the adrenaline, pushing back the loose strands of hair that had fallen free and looked at you with a charming smile.

Little to no energy remained inside you, partially limp on his desk, shaking a little still but satisfied with that you think was the most intense, mind-blowing orgasm of your life.

Holding the side of your face, Erwin leaned in for a soft kiss, stealing the air from your lungs and keeping his mouth locked on yours. You managed to bring yourself to wrap your arms around his neck and kiss back, chuckling into the kisses and pecking a few more small ones as he pulled away.

Helping you off of his desk and with your clothes, Erwin tried to return to being professional and not as if he had you begging on top of his desk moments ago. You came to stand beside him, pulling his face to kiss his cheek and laugh softly.

"Maybe if the commander has time to spare this evening, I can return the favor." Already walking away towards the door, looking over your shoulder with a familiar mischief in your expression. You didn't wait for an answer, his stiff and taken aback look was all you need to know what he was thinking and that he might indeed be paying you a visit once the day was over.