#I would die if something that existed for

[moonlightwritingf1]

To New Beginnings | LN4

ᥫ᭡ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/n and Lando share a passionate kiss on New Year’s Eve, leading to an intimate connection. Despite her hesitations, Y/n gives in to the growing attraction between them.

ᥫ᭡ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

ᥫ᭡ word count ━━━━━━━ 6.1k

ᥫ᭡ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The New Year’s Eve party was in full swing, the air thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the bass-heavy thrum of music. Y/n stood just inside the doorway, her fingers nervously brushing over the delicate fabric of her dress. It was black, long, and clung to her curves in a way that made her feel both powerful and exposed. The neckline dipped low, revealing just enough to be daring without crossing into vulgarity. She had debated wearing it for hours, but now, standing here, she was glad she’d taken the risk.

This is it, she thought, taking a deep breath. Tonight, I let myself exist. Just for tonight.

She scanned the room, her eyes landing on familiar faces—friends from work, acquaintances from London’s social scene. But before she could fully settle into the space, her gaze locked onto someone else entirely. Lando.

He was across the room, leaning casually against the bar, a glass of champagne in hand. His dark hair was slightly messy, his tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly. Even from this distance, she could see the way his eyes lit up when he noticed her. He straightened, setting his glass down, and began making his way toward her.

Her heart skipped a beat. Why does he always look at me like that?

“Y/n,” he said as he approached, his voice smooth and warm, with just a hint of that teasing edge she’d come to expect from him. “You’re here.”

She forced herself to smile, though her cheeks were already flushing. “I am. It’s a party, after all.”

“Yes, but you’re here,” he emphasized, his eyes raking over her in a way that made her skin tingle. “And in that dress? You’re going to make it impossible for anyone else to get my attention tonight.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to play off the compliment. “Oh, please. You’ll forget about me the moment someone hands you another drink.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against her waist as if by accident. Was it an accident? She couldn’t tell. “I don’t think that’s possible,” he murmured, his voice lowering just enough that she had to lean in slightly to hear him. “Not when you’re standing there looking like… that.”

Y/n glanced away, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only around you,” he said with a grin, his fingers lingering on her hip now, sending a shiver down her spine. “Come on, let’s get you a drink. You look like you need one.”

Before she could protest, he was guiding her toward the bar, his hand still firmly on her waist. She could feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of her dress, and it was distracting in a way she hadn’t anticipated. As they walked, she noticed the way people turned to watch them, their curious glances flickering between her and Lando. Do they think we’re together? The thought sent a strange mix of panic and something else—something warmer—through her chest.

At the bar, Lando ordered her a glass of wine, his arm brushing against hers as he leaned in to speak to the bartender. When he handed her the glass, his fingers lingered against hers for a moment too long. “To new beginnings,” he said, raising his own glass in a toast.

She clinked her glass against his, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to pierce right through her. “Cheers.”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a moment, the noise of the party swirling around them. But Lando didn’t seem interested in letting the conversation die. “So,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. “Why did it take so long for you to show up? I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“I wasn’t sure if I would,” she admitted, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. “But… I figured, why not? It’s New Year’s Eve.”

“And I’m glad you did,” he said, his voice softening. “Because now I get to spend the night with the most beautiful woman in the room.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re so full of it.”

“Am I?” he asked, stepping closer again, his free hand resting lightly on her hip. “Or are you just refusing to believe me?”

Her breath hitched slightly at the intensity in his gaze. “Maybe both.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Fair enough. But I’m not going to stop telling you until you believe me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the music shifted to a slower tempo, and Lando’s expression changed. There was a glint in his eye now, something playful and mischievous. “Dance with me,” he said, offering her his hand.

“What? No,” she protested, shaking her head. “I don’t dance.”

“Everyone dances on New Year’s Eve,” he countered, his fingers wrapping around hers before she could pull away. “Come on, Y/n. Live a little.”

She hesitated, glancing around the room. But something in the way he was looking at her—like she was the only person in the world—made her nod. Just one dance, she told herself. What’s the harm?

As he led her to the center of the room, his hand moved to her waist, pulling her close. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, feeling the firm muscle beneath his suit jacket. They began to sway to the music, and she was acutely aware of every point of contact between them—the warmth of his hand on her back, the press of his chest against hers, the way his breath brushed against her cheek.

“See?” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

“I suppose not,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Good. Because I’ve been waiting months for this.”

Her heart raced at his words, but before she could respond, he spun her gently, pulling her even closer this time. Their bodies were flush now, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart against hers. When the song ended, neither of them moved. Instead, they stood there, locked in each other’s embrace, the rest of the party fading into the background.

“Y/n,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “There’s something I need to—”

But before he could finish, the countdown to midnight began. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Y/n felt a surge of adrenaline. 10… 9… 8…

Lando’s eyes never left hers as the numbers ticked down. 7… 6… 5…

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. 4… 3… 2…

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from hers.

The clock struck midnight, and the room exploded into celebration. But Y/n barely noticed. All she could focus on was the way Lando was looking at her, the way his breath mingled with hers, the way his body pressed against her own.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered back, her heart pounding in her chest.

And then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft and tentative at first, but quickly deepened into something more—something filled with longing and passion and all the unspoken things between them. Her hands slid up to cup his face, and she kissed him back with everything she had, finally letting herself give in to the feelings she’d been fighting for so long.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths uneven. “Y/n,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I—”

Lando’s breath was still uneven, his forehead pressed against hers as if he couldn’t bear to pull away completely. His hands moved from her shoulders to her waist, fingers curling possessively into the soft fabric of her dress. “Y/n,” he murmured again, his voice low and rough with emotion. He didn’t finish whatever he had been about to say. Instead, he tilted his head, capturing her lips in another kiss—this one deeper, hungrier, more insistent.

Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath her palms. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her body responding instinctively to his touch. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen.

“You…” he began, but trailed off, his eyes searching hers for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it, because a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, his lips were on hers again, his hands roaming over her body as if he needed to memorize every curve. His fingers trailed down her sides, brushing the hem of her dress before sliding underneath to trace patterns on her bare skin. She shivered at the sensation, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

“Cold?” he teased, his voice warm against her ear. She shook her head, unable to form words as his hands continued their exploration. He pressed kisses along her jawline, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear that made her knees go weak. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring herself as she felt her resolve beginning to crumble.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. But instead of stopping, he only intensified his efforts, his lips moving lower to trail kisses down her neck. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space between them.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and sending shivers down her spine. “I can’t stop looking at you. Can’t stop touching you.” His hands slid lower, resting on her hips for a moment before one dipped lower, brushing the curve of her ass. She froze, her breath catching in her throat.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with both desire and concern. She nodded, barely trusting herself to speak. The feel of his hand on her ass sent a jolt of electricity through her body, igniting something deep within her. He squeezed gently, testing her reaction, and when a small moan escaped her lips, he grinned against her skin.

“God, I love the sounds you make,” he whispered, his voice rougher now, filled with an intensity that made her heart race. His hand explored further, gripping her ass firmly this time, and another moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it. The sound seemed to embolden him, and he pressed another searing kiss to her lips.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed between kisses. “Everything about you… perfect.” His lips moved lower, trailing kisses across her collarbone and down to the edge of her dress. The neckline was low, exposing just enough skin to drive him wild, and he wasted no time in pressing his lips to the soft swell of her chest.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed her there, each press of his lips sending waves of heat through her body. She could feel the tension building, coiling tight in her core, and she knew she was losing control. But for the first time, she didn’t care. She wanted this—wanted him—more than anything.

His tongue flicked out, teasing her skin, and she let out another soft moan, her body arching towards him involuntarily. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against her skin, and she felt a surge of confidence at the way he reacted to her.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice muffled against her chest. She nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. He kissed her again, his lips lingering longer this time, before lifting his head to look at her. His eyes were filled with desire, and she could see the same need reflected in them that she felt burning inside her.

Lando’s lips moved to her ear, his breath warm and teasing. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. His hands traced the curve of her waist, their bodies were pressed together, the heat between them almost unbearable. Y/n could feel the hard outline of his desire against her, and it made her pulse quicken.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he continued, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Wanted you. Every time I see you, it’s all I can think about. How beautiful you are. How much I need to touch you, to taste you.” He kissed her neck softly, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp.

Y/n’s hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. She was losing herself in him, in the way he spoke, in the way he touched her. It was overwhelming, but she didn’t want it to stop. “Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of adoration and hunger. “Tell me what you want,” he said again, his voice soft but commanding. “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

She hesitated for a moment, her heart racing. But then she leaned in, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “I want you. All of you.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Lando’s face, and he cupped her cheek in his hand. “You have me,” he murmured before capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue slid against hers, exploring every inch of her mouth as if he was memorizing her. His hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched.

The party faded into the background, the music and laughter becoming nothing more than a distant hum. All that mattered was the two of them, the way they fit together, the way their bodies moved in sync. Lando’s hands slipped lower, gripping her hips as he pulled her even closer, his hardness pressing against her stomach.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily. Lando rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment. “Come home with me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise of the party.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She knew what he was asking, knew where this would lead. And yet, there was no hesitation in her answer. “Yes,” she said simply, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her.

Lando’s smile was radiant, and he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. They slipped out of the party unnoticed, the cool night air hitting them as they stepped outside. Lando led her to his car, opening the door for her with a gentlemanly charm that made her smile.

The drive to his apartment was quiet, the tension between them palpable. Y/n could feel Lando’s eyes on her every now and then, his gaze burning with desire. She kept her eyes on the road, her mind racing with anticipation. What would happen when they got there? Would she be able to handle the intensity of his feelings? The depth of her own?

When they finally arrived, Lando parked the car and turned to her, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice soft but serious.

Y/n met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m sure,” she said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Lando smiled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Good,” he murmured before leaning in to kiss her gently. Then he got out of the car and came around to open her door, taking her hand in his as they walked to the elevator.

The ride up to his apartment seemed to take forever, the silence between them filled with unspoken words and promises. When the doors finally opened, Lando led her down the hallway to his door, unlocking it and stepping aside to let her in.

His apartment was modern and sleek, just like she had imagined. But she didn’t have time to take it all in before Lando’s arms were around her, his lips crashing down on hers in a kiss that left her breathless. She responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

Lando’s hands moved to the zipper of her dress, slowly pulling it down as he kissed her neck, his lips trailing hot kisses along her skin. The dress fell to the floor, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but her black lace underwear. Lando’s eyes darkened as he took her in, his gaze roaming over her body with undisguised hunger.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip before moving up to cup her breast. Her breath hitched as his thumb brushed over her nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through her.

He leaned down, his lips closing over her other nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. Y/n moaned softly, her hands gripping his shoulders as waves of pleasure washed over her. Lando alternated between sucking and licking, his hands exploring every inch of her body as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

“Lando…” she gasped, her head falling back as his mouth moved lower, kissing a trail down her stomach. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he knelt in front of her, his eyes filled with longing.

“I want to taste every part of you,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

Lando’s breath hitched as he pulled Y/n's panties down, his eyes widening at the sight before him. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with hunger. She was soaking wet, her arousal glistening in the dim light of the room. Her pussy was flushed and dripping, and Lando felt like he might lose his mind just looking at her.

He glanced up at her, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. “Is this because of me?” he teased, his fingers lightly brushing over her slick folds. Y/n let out a sharp gasp, her hips arching toward his touch involuntarily. Lando chuckled darkly, his thumb circling her clit slowly, deliberately. “You love playing hard to get, but in reality, you’re desperate for me as much as I am for you, baby.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Her body betrayed her, trembling under his touch, her core aching for more. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice breathless and pleading.

“Tell me,” he demanded, his fingers still teasing her, just barely touching where she needed him most. “Tell me how much you want me.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the whimper that threatened to escape. “I… I want you,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “So much.”

Lando’s grin widened, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. “Good girl,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. His mouth moved closer to her center, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel his tongue flicking lightly against her, tasting her, savoring her.

“God, you’re delicious,” he groaned, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her spread open for him. He licked a long stripe up her slit, and Y/n moaned loudly, her hands flying to grip the sheets beneath her. “Lando!”

He didn’t hesitate, diving in with an intensity that left her gasping. His tongue swirled around her clit, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, harder. Y/n’s back arched off the bed, her legs trembling uncontrollably. “Oh my God…” she whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Lando hummed against her, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and Y/n cried out, her hips bucking against his face. “Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted, her entire body coiled tight with tension.

He continued to devour her, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony, driving her closer and closer to the edge. Y/n’s moans grew louder, more desperate, her body writhing beneath him. “Please, Lando, please!” she begged, her nails digging into his scalp.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let go. I want to feel you come undone.”

And she did. The orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she screamed his name. Lando didn’t let up, licking and sucking her through it until she was a trembling, boneless mess beneath him.

When he finally pulled away, Y/n was gasping for air, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Lando wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes hungry as he looked down at her. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice low and husky.

Y/n blushed, still reeling from the intensity of her climax. “Lando… that was…” she trailed off, unable to find the words.

He grinned, crawling up her body to hover over her. “Just wait,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers. “We’re just getting started.”

His kiss was deep and searing, and Y/n could taste herself on his tongue. It should have been strange, but instead, it only fueled her desire. Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath her fingertips. She wanted him—all of him.

Lando broke the kiss, his eyes locking onto hers. “I need you, Y/n,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “Not just your body. All of you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and she nodded, her eyes welling with tears. “I need you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Then let me show you how much you mean to me,” he said, his hand sliding down to grip his cock, positioning himself at her entrance.

Y/n’s breath hitched as she felt the tip of him pressing against her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Please,” she begged, her body already craving him.

Lando hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, her hands moving to cup his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispered.

With that, Lando pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, giving her time to adjust to his size. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan escaping her lips as she felt him fill her completely. “You’re so tight,” he groaned, his forehead resting against hers.

They stayed like that for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, savoring the connection between them. Then Lando began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through Y/n’s body.

“God, you feel amazing,” he whispered, his hands gripping her hips as he picked up the pace. Y/n’s moans grew louder, her nails digging into his back as she urged him on.

Their bodies moved together in perfect sync, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other. Y/n could feel another orgasm building, stronger than the last, and she clung to Lando, her cries of pleasure filling the room.

“Come with me, baby,” Lando growled, his thrusts becoming more frantic. Y/n nodded, her body tightening around him as she tumbled over the edge once again. Lando followed soon after, his release spilling into her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

For a moment, they stayed like that, their hearts racing, their bodies still intertwined. Then Lando pulled out, collapsing beside her and pulling her into his arms.

“That was…” Y/n began, but Lando cut her off with a kiss.

“Perfect,” he finished, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare skin. “You’re perfect.”

Y/n smiled, snuggling closer to him. “So are you,” she whispered, her eyes closing as exhaustion began to take over. She could feel Lando’s arms tighten around her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt safe, cherished, loved.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of their breathing, tangled together in the aftermath of passion. Lando’s fingers trailed lazily up and down Y/n’s arm, his touch leaving a trail of warmth that made her shiver. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, her own still fluttering from what had just transpired between them.

“You okay?” Lando murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a ripple of heat through her. His hand paused on her shoulder, fingertips brushing against her skin as if he couldn’t stop touching her.

Y/n tilted her head to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “More than okay,” she admitted, her voice soft but sure. “That was… incredible.”

Lando grinned, the kind of grin that made her stomach tighten in the most delicious way. “Good,” he said simply, because what else was there to say? His fingers resumed their slow exploration, tracing circles over her shoulder now, the touch tender, almost reverent. “Because I plan on making it even better next time.”

She laughed, a light, breathy sound that made his chest swell with pride. “Confident, are we?”

“With you?” Lando leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Always.” The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine, and she instinctively pressed closer to him, craving more of his touch, more of him.

They fell into a comfortable silence again, the weight of what had just happened settling over them. It wasn’t just the physical connection—though that had been earth-shattering—it was the emotional one too. Y/n could feel it, this undeniable pull toward him, something deeper than attraction, something that scared her a little but also filled her with a strange sense of peace.

Lando broke the silence first, his voice softer now, more serious. “Hey,” he started, his fingers stilling on her back. “Can I ask you something?”

Y/n shifted slightly so she could meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, and they held hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “Of course,” she replied, her voice a little steadier than she felt.

He hesitated for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “Why did you keep pushing me away?” he asked finally, his tone gentle, not accusing. “All those months, all those gifts… I thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “I guess I just want to understand why it took so long for you to let me in.”

Y/n exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected this. Not now, not after everything they’d just shared. But she owed him honesty, didn’t she? They were past the point of pretenses.

“I was scared,” she admitted quietly, her eyes dropping to where her fingers fiddled with the edge of the sheet. “Scared of getting hurt, scared of… of not being enough for someone like you.”

Lando frowned, his hand lifting to cup her cheek, forcing her to look at him again. “Y/n,” he said her name with such tenderness it nearly stole her breath. “You’re more than enough. You’re everything. Don’t you see that?”

Her throat tightened, emotions swirling inside her like a storm she couldn’t control. “It’s not just that,” she continued, her voice trembling now. “Your life… it’s so different from mine. You’re this famous, successful man, and I’m just… ordinary. And your past—all those women—it made me think maybe I was just another conquest to you.”

Lando’s expression softened, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “You’re not ordinary,” he said firmly. “And my past… yeah, I’ve made mistakes. But none of them meant anything. Not like this. Not like you.” He paused, his gaze searching hers. “Do you believe me?”

Y/n nodded, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I do,” she whispered. “I just… I needed to know you were serious about me. That this wasn’t just some fling for you.”

“It’s not,” Lando assured her, his voice steady, unwavering. “I’ve never been more serious about anyone in my life. And I want this—us—to be real.”

She blinked, surprised by the raw sincerity in his words. “You really mean that?”

“Every word,” he replied without hesitation. “And I want to prove it to you. Properly. Will you go on a date with me? A real one, no pressure, just… you and me.”

Y/n felt a smile tug at her lips, despite the tears still threatening to fall. “A date, huh?” she teased, her voice lightening as she wiped at her eyes. “What, flowers and dinner and all that?”

Lando chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “If that’s what you want, then yes. But honestly, I’d take you anywhere, as long as it means I get to spend time with you.”

She pretended to consider it, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… tempting. Very tempting.”

His grin widened, his hand slipping around her waist to pull her closer. “Is that a yes?” he asked, his tone hopeful, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n feigned reluctance, though her heart was already racing at the thought. “I don’t know… you’ll have to convince me.”

Lando’s laughter filled the room, and before she could react, he rolled her beneath him, his body pressing hers into the mattress. “Oh, I’ll convince you, alright,” he murmured, his lips grazing her neck in a way that made her gasp. “Starting right now.”

She giggled, squirming beneath him, though her hands found their way to his shoulders, holding him close. “You’re insatiable,” she accused, though there was no real bite to her words.

“Only for you,” he replied, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, leaving her breathless when he finally pulled away. “So? Date night?”

Y/n sighed, pretending to weigh her options, though she knew her answer already. “Fine,” she said with mock exasperation. “But only if you promise to behave yourself.”

Lando smirked, his hand sliding down her side in a way that made her shiver. “No promises,” he quipped, leaning in to kiss her again, slower this time, more deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world.

When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven. “Thank you,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice making her chest ache. “For giving me a chance.”

Y/n reached up to brush a strand of hair from his face, her heart swelling with emotion. “Thank you,” she replied softly. “For not giving up on me.”

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. Then Lando cleared his throat, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “So… since we’re officially dating now…”

She raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. “Yes?”

Lando’s grin turned downright wicked. “Does that mean I can tell everyone you’re my girlfriend? Because, let me tell you, I’ve been dying to show you off.”

Y/n felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he conceded, leaning in to nip at her bottom lip. “But I’m yours. All yours.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and before she could respond, he captured her lips in another searing kiss, one that left no doubt in her mind that he meant every word.

Lando’s lips lingered on hers, soft and sweet, before he pulled back just enough to whisper against her mouth. ”You know, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. For you.” His voice was low, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down Y/n’s spine.

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing playfully. ”Oh? And how many other girls have you said that to?” Her tone was teasing, but there was a hint of vulnerability beneath it, a question she hadn’t meant to ask but couldn’t hold back.

Lando’s expression softened, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. ”None,” he said firmly, his gaze locked onto hers. ”Because none of them were you. None of them ever could be.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. He was too much—too intense, too raw, too honest. It made her want to retreat, to shield herself from the way his words seemed to reach into her chest and wrap around her heart. But at the same time, she wanted to lean into it, to let herself feel everything he was offering.

Instead, she smirked, leaning back slightly. ”Careful, Lando. That almost sounded like a love confession.”

He blinked, then laughed, shaking his head. ”What if it was?”

Y/n froze, her playful demeanor faltering. ”What?”

His laughter faded, replaced by something far more serious. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as his eyes searched hers. ”I said, what if it was? What if I told you I’m in love with you? Because I am. Completely, ridiculously, stupidly in love with you.”

The room seemed to tilt, her stomach doing somersaults as his words sank in. She stared at him, her mind racing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not yet. Not like this. She wasn’t ready for this kind of honesty, this kind of intensity. But as she looked into his eyes, she realized she didn’t have a choice. He’d already laid himself bare, and now it was her turn.

Still, old habits died hard, and she couldn’t resist falling back on her usual defense mechanism: teasing. ”In love with me?Really? After only one night together? That doesn’t sound very self-controlled of you.”

Lando groaned, dropping his forehead against hers. ”’Y/n… You’re killing me here.”

She grinned, feeling a little more in control now that she’d thrown him off balance. ”Am I? Because it seems like you’re the one who’s being all dramatic. ‘Completely, ridiculously, stupidly in love’? That’s quite the declaration.”

He lifted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, though there was no real annoyance in his expression. ”You’re really going to tease me about this?”_

”Maybe,” she said with a shrug, her grin widening. ”Or maybe I just don’t believe you.”

That got a reaction. Lando’s hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together. ”You don’t believe me?” he repeated, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. ”Then let me prove it to you.”

Before she could respond, his lips crashed onto hers, cutting off any retort she might have had. It wasn’t a gentle kiss—it was desperate, hungry, full of all the emotions he’d just confessed. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her in a way that left no room for doubt. She moaned softly, her hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him back, her teasing forgotten in the heat of the moment.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing heavily. ”Now do you believe me?” he asked, his voice rough.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ”Maybe,” she said again, though her tone was softer this time. ”But I think you might need to try harder to convince me.”

Lando groaned again, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. ”You’re impossible, you know that?”

”And yet here you are, declaring your undying love for me,” she shot back, her grin returning.

He shook his head, but he was smiling too. ”Yeah, well, I guess I’m a masochist.”

Y/n laughed, the sound light and carefree, and Lando’s heart swelled at the sight of her happiness. He’d do anything to keep that smile on her face, even if it meant putting up with her endless teasing.

They spent the next hour talking, laughing, and stealing kisses, neither of them willing to let the other go. Eventually, though, exhaustion began to creep in, and Y/n found herself stifling a yawn.

”Tired?” Lando asked, his fingers gently carding through her hair.

”A little,” she admitted, leaning into his touch.

”Come on, let’s get some rest,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand to her.

She hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, letting him lead her to the bedroom. They settled under the covers together, Lando wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. ”Goodnight, Y/n,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

”Goodnight, Lando,” she murmured back, her eyelids already drooping.

As she drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe him after all.

[sepiasys]

Ok but seriously

We got a little bag of pretzels, bc craving smth sweet and missed em, ykyk?

MOTHERFUCKIN SHIT DID NOT HAVE ANY SPACE IN THE SEAL TO OPEN IT!!

I tore it off AT the spot it had marked to tear at. *I had to get my bestie to fucking open it for me.*

He used his teeth to tear it open.

I've never had to struggle with a tear off seal THIS much.

(Also this isnt a "oh the part you're supposed to tear at doesnt exist", like the little cut isn't there. It was there, it was easy on BOTH sides. And even when I tore down through what I'd expect to be a now-open seal, nah. NO air pocket, and trying to pull the bag open didnt work bc 1) the plastic was so rigid and hard to grip 2) even when I got a grip, it was actually just like super-glued shut.)(this doesn't discount the fact that having no tearaway part of the package at all is ALSO bullshit. Had that more often and would get scissors to cut my own.)

I also dont know a term but it makes me think of the whole planned obsolescence type shit, which is just deliberately setting up your product to FAIL within a set period of time so consumers have to buy more.

But this is just like. Actual sadistic packaging. I am ALL for accessibility in any way because FUCK do companies and people higher up NOT care. But like. I'M ABLE BODIED AND THIS IS SOMETHING THAT NOBODY SHOULD HAVE TO STRUGGLE WITH JUST TO FUCKING EAT!!

I lowkey feel like it's also kinda similar to anti-homeless measures, like the stuff that's meant to hurt or inconvenience the lowest class because they can't afford anything better (like benches that you're not able to sleep on or spikes, which is also cruel and sadistic and unnecessary).

Like. Oh, you can't afford the good food? Can't afford the tools to open our cheap shit? Can't microwave it? Tough shit, now go sit and die in the cold streets.

It feels like it would just be subtley attacking disabled and low-income people. Which yk. Also tends to overlap.

Let's talk about what I like to call ranch bottle inaccessibility (inspired by wrestling with a ranch bottle to get the seal off) (please tell me there's a real name for this) which is inaccessibility with packaging. Ten thousand rubber bands on toy packages, freshness seals that are impossible to get off, water bottle caps (fuck water bottle caps). They're so hard for disabled people (and children at that, why can't kids open their own toys without help?). It's pissing me off. Having to have help opening water bottles, using can openers, destroying my teeth since I was little to open toys and candy packages.

[strang3lov3]

Underfoot

You get off on Roman's shoe.

Tags - dom!roman, smut, rough sex, gross sex, shoe humping/grinding, shoe licking, humiliation, degradation, masturbation, cum eating, biting, hitting, kicking, a sprinkling of ass play, nipple biting, dacryphilia, no aftercare we die like men, sex as sh, manipulative romey, bully romey calls you all sorts of nasty things, oneshot. Idk. believe it or not this is consensual. romey’s all fucknutty, reader has self esteem issues.  A/N - this one’s an acquired taste, i think. it made me squirm as i wrote it lol. This is a one shot and can be read alone buuuuut in my mind it works as a continuation of tear you apart. Thank you @cum-a-calla for holding my hand and @endlessthxxghts for betaing you sick fucks that i hold so dearly in my heart!

“You again, huh?” 

Roman’s lips curl into an amused smirk. He licks them as his eyes lazily scan down the length of your body, tracing the long, curved lines of your breasts and waist and hips. You pick at your nails and shift your weight between your two feet, a nervous tick. He loves that tick. “Yeah,” you mutter reluctantly. “Hi.” 

Roman grins. “Hi,” he says, and something about his voice mocks you. He’s good at that. Making you feel uncertain and squirm uncomfortably without saying much of anything. It’s all in the way he looks at you, how he smiles. You know it when you see it. It’s just him. 

You know what you’re here for, the same thing you always want when you visit him like this. The pain that walks the line between good hurt and bad hurt, the pleasure and the agony. That specific violence you crave, only from Roman’s hands. All that ache inside releases with the way he hits you hard enough to bruise, blood rushing to the surface. The drawing of your blood, skin burning in that horrible way that only he can ignite. Only Roman can scratch that itch, satisfy your raw, instinctive need to be hurt by him. 

It’s that strange intimacy, too. The way bodies connect, that vulnerable proximity that comes with breath shared, the faintest bit of tenderness that hangs through the air even when it’s wrapped in something darker. Your special little arrangement that only makes sense between the two of you. But it works, right?

The room is dark, lit only by lamps. It’s late and everyone’s gone home - should have, at least. But Roman, Roman’s still here. Lying on his stupid gray couch as if he was waiting for you, almost like he knew you’d be here. He probably did, honestly, how he knows you so well. In ways you don’t even know yourself. You wonder what tipped him off, what about you today told him that you’d show up for him to satisfy your shared, twisted craving. You could ask, but he’d never tell you. 

“Was wondering how long you’d make it without it,” Roman says, voice dripping with that smug superiority. “My little slut. Slut for pain,” he smirks.

Roman stretches then, neck craning over the armrest, back arching in a languid movement as he groans. You watch him, caught in the strange, raw beauty of the way he exists - so profoundly human, the folds in the fabric of his shirt shifting with his breaths. He looks so lovely like this, Like someone could love him. You could, honestly. Would be nothing new for you, the moth drawn to the flame. “Well, c’mon, then,” he snaps, the sharp command cutting through the quietness. “Quickly.”  

You know the rules. You’re naked and he is not. Never is. As you take off each of your garments, baring yourself completely to him, Roman unbuckles his belt and only pushes his pants just enough down his thighs. He does this just to fuck with you, twist the knife a little as he knows how badly you want to feel his skin on your skin, or the full weight of him on top of you. You want that, don’t you? Will you ever admit it?

You’ll only ever get fragments of Roman, scraps tossed at you like you’re a dog begging under the table. Enough of him to tide you over for the moment, never satisfying you fully. 

Roman spits into his palm before reaching for his cock, working it to its full length. “Fuck yourself first,” he says, voice flat, dismissive. “I’m really not in the mood to hear you bitching and moaning when it hurts, so. Do what you need to. It’s kinda supposed to hurt anyway, y’know. Guess you can add this to the list of favors I’ve done for you.”

“I know. Thank you.”

With two fingers, you trace your seam, already starting to drip with arousal and you hate yourself for it.

“Ah-ah. One finger. One. C’mon, you know better.”

Roman’s done this before. He likes the show of you fucking yourself with just one finger, knowing it’s not enough to prepare you for his cock. It doesn’t even do much to get you wet, really. It’s just another way for him to humiliate you or something, no real desire behind it. It’s all control, making you rub salt in your own wound. 

You push a single digit past your lips and slide it through your slick folds, circling your clit just once  “In,” Roman instructs, and you push your finger inside yourself, feeling your hot, throbbing insides, “And out,” Roman says, voice still irritatingly casual, like he’s watching a performance. But he is, isn’t he?

Roman squints slightly, eyes narrowing as he watches you fuck yourself, a lazy smile curlling at the corner of his lips. He continues to fuck his fist, all lazy and slow, like he’s bored, couldn’t give a shit. 

“Yeah, like that, sweetheart. Think that’s enough? That good?”

“I-”

“Changed my mind, I don’t care,” Roman interrupts with his tone clipped, cutting you off with a wave of his hand. “Just shut up and come here.” 

He sits up and slaps his thigh twice in invitation - or command, really - before reclining back against the couch, settling in as he folds his arms behind his head.

You hesitate for a moment, then move toward him, straddling his lap as his eyes flick over you. You grip his toned shoulders instinctively as you steady yourself. You reach between your bodies and touch the head of his cock, wet with his sticky precum, and line him up with your entrance. “Yep, like that. Down you fuckin’ go,” he says, hands finding your hips as he takes the liberty to force you down with a firm push. The sting is immediate and sharp, and you inhale slowly, breath catching in your throat as your eyes squeeze shut. Stars dancing behind your eyelids. You let out a long exhale to match. 

“Is that a new coping mechanism or something, huh?” Roman mocks. He shifts beneath you, adjusting so that he’s buried inside you completely, his smirk never faltering. “No, no, I’m kidding. That’s good, you know. Healthy.”

You hold onto the back of the couch, knowing better than to hold onto Roman. Can’t get too friendly, he says. He’s almost maniacal in this way, how he keeps you isolated while being inside you. Minimal contact. Everything he does, he does to you. You’re a vessel, he tells you. A fleshlight with a head attached. 

“Hey, right here. Focus right here for a second,” Roman grabs your jaw, digging his thumb and forefinger into the hollows of your cheeks, squeezing the flesh against your molars. “You remember the rules, right, sweetheart? You don’t get to cum on my cock, yeah?” Your skin tickles as Roman pushes some hair out of your eyes, the action starkly tender in comparison to the harsh way he holds your face. 

You nod quickly. “And you remember why?” he adds.

“I don’t deserve to,” you answer through your teeth, voice all muffled with the effort it takes to get the words out. Your jaw aches under his grip, and you remain obedient.

Roman tilts his head. “Repeat it,” he demands, tone low and unyielding.

“I don’t deserve it.” The words feel heavier this time and tears begin to blur your vision, stinging at the corners of your eyes.

“Yeah, good. Good girl. Took you long enough to remember, though that’s how it always goes with dumb sluts like you, huh? Always all stupid and fuck drunk. I know you can’t help it,” he murmurs, voice dripping with feigned sympathy. “Whatever. Just fuckin’ move.” 

You move yourself up on Roman’s cock almost all the way, then sink back down again. It takes you a minute to build a pace but Roman demonstrates patience, surprisingly. The fullness of his cock inside you, the ache it brings. 

“I hate you,” Roman whispers. “Do you have any idea how much I fucking hate you?” Without allowing you to answer, he takes control then, like he’s unable to help himself. He bounces you hard and fast, your ass hitting the top of his firm thighs with each pass. His eyes are dark and wild as he watches your body move, all that rippling, moving flesh just for him. “I’d even bet I hate you more than you hate yourself. How about that?”

Roman grabs a fistful of your hair and yanks your head to the side harshly, sending a sharp jolt of pain through your neck, causing an involuntary whine to escape your throat. He bites your shoulder, growling as he pounds into you. “Hey. Does it hurt yet?” he mumbles, squeezing his jaw even tighter, breaking your tender skin with his sharp canine teeth. 

“Yeah,” you whimper, keeping your eyes tightly closed to fight back tears. In truth, you love the release that comes when he makes you cry. But it’s the game, you know? How long can you hold out, how long until he breaks you?

“Yeah, good,” he grunts. “How about this one, then? Tell me, scale of one to ten.” Roman pushes you back and lowers his head, sucking one of your nipples into his mouth before pinching it hard between his teeth, causing you to cry out. “Shhhh, shut the fuck up and take it. Fucking take it,” he growls, swatting your ass before repeating the action with your other breast. “Give me a number.” 

“Ten, fuck- oh, fuck. Ten,” you wail. 

“Damn. That bad, huh? You gonna cry?”

You shake your head, gripping the couch cushions hard enough that you could tear the upholstery, dig your fingers inside. “Mm. Wearing your big girl panties today, I see. Very cute,” he says, shifting so he’s lying back against the couch again, dragging you along with your nipple still between his teeth. “You’ll cry, just like you always do. Watch.” 

Roman slaps you across the cheek, and it’s more of a beating than a proper smack. He’s done it to you before, and you sobbed for hours when he did. Must’ve hit a nerve. He watches your reaction with a twisted smile plastered on his face, his eyes crinkling. You look away, biting down on your wobbling bottom lip. “Oh, man. You’re trying so very hard to hold back those tears, aren’t you? Hey–look at me.” 

You turn your head back to look at Roman, and that’s all it takes for you to burst into tears. He’s so handsome and so fucking sick, and you are too. Roman looks satisfied with himself, murmuring some insult before resuming his brutal assault on your cunt. “Yeah, there it is. Cry for me.”

Your crying turns Roman on even more, makes him feel like an animal. Breaking you down like this. Not like it’s hard, but still. He relishes in the power, knowing it’s all him that does this to you. His violence. Roman’s. 

 Roman fucks you brutally, just like he always does. Hands on your ass, one slides up your waist to squeeze and grope your tits. He inches the other toward your ass, circling the tight ring of muscle with his middle finger before pushing it inside, making you feel fuller than you already do. All you can do is take it, sobbing above him as he uses you. You summon the courage to look at him, with his cheeks flushed all over, a light sheen of sweat glittering at his temples. “You’re so fucked,” he tells you. “Just–all fucked up. I think–fuck– think you’re prettier like this. Really, I mean it. C’mere, baby.”

Roman wraps his arms around you, leaving you with no choice but to hold him too. It feels…unnatural, but you relish in the closeness all the same. He changes the way he fucks you so that it’s less of a clean thrusting and more of an intense rolling of his hips, as he knows your clit is grinding against his pubic bone, his wiry hair only adding to the friction. You can’t help the moan that spills from your lips, “Oh, Roman.” 

“Fuck, yeah,” Roman groans, his cheek pressed against yours as he rocks his hips over and over into your dripping, tight pussy. He makes noises in your ear, knowing how much you love it. Kisses your throat to add insult to injury. You’re gonna come, and Roman knows it. Planned it. It’s a test, all part of the game. And look at you, falling for it. You really should know better.

It sort of takes you by surprise, that hot, sticky pleasure building in your gut. But nonetheless, it’s there. Roman’s tongue is tracing patterns on your neck and his hands hold you tightly, and you feel like you’re his. You cave, allowing yourself to touch him as your orgasm approaches. Feel the twitching veins in his neck, the muscles in his biceps tensing as he moves with you. 

Roman times it perfectly. Right when you’re about to come he pulls out of you, the sudden loss of his cock causing you to cry out in frustration. “You stupid fucking cunt. What’d I tell you, huh? What did we talk about? Get the fuck off of me. Down.”

Roman shoves you backward with brutal force and you land on that awful, rough carpet, the wind knocked from your lungs. He stands above you, cock in fist as he lifts a leg and presses it against your ribcage, dragging it down, down, down your tummy until it rests against your mound. And you can’t fucking help yourself. You rock your hips, grinding your clit against the bottom of his shoe, and Roman’s beside himself. And you, you’re not even here. You’re trying to tell yourself that this isn’t happening, you poor thing. Cute.

“Oh my god,” he laughs. “You’re gonna get yourself off on my fucking - my shoe, you fucking loser?”

You figure the picture in front of him should be enough of an answer, but it’s not. “Hey–” Roman gives you a little kick against your cunt. “Answer me, you fucking slut.” 

“Yes,” you sob, release once again approaching. Roman smiles in surprised delight, fucking his fist as he watches you writhe below him. Hair falling in front of his face, a lopsided grin with the dimples to match. He looks so tall like this, and you follow the line down his torso and his legs until all you’re looking at is his fucking shoe. The shiny black leather, the patterned socks. God. You moan his name loudly as you come, and to ruin your orgasm for his own amusement, he kicks you. And you moan louder, convulse even harder, pussy clenching around nothing. Fucking pathetic.

“Oh- fuck. Are you fucking real? I kick you and you come harder? Holy fuck,” he scoffs, squeezing his cock harder as he strokes it. “That’s fucking gross. Seriously, you are so fucking disgusting. Yeah, you should be crying. Jeeesus,” he laughs, his giggles turning into breathy moans as he rapidly pumps his fist. Roman comes then, spurting hot ropes of his come all over you - your face and your neck, your eyes, hair. Nothing that’ll be easy to clean up, of course. Roman hopes you’ll pass someone on your way home who’ll see the wreck he made of you and judge you for it worse than you judge yourself.

You’re a mess of drool, tears, and come by the end of it. Roman’s fucking drunk on power, absolutely elated with how this all turned out. Couldn’t have planned it better if he tried. You sit up then, but Roman quickly steps closer to your head, pressing the sole of his shoe against your throat and forcing you back down. “Ah-ah,” he tuts, dangling his shoe above your face before pressing the rubbery tip of the sole against your lips. “You know better than to leave a mess.”

If you enjoyed, it is MANDATORY that you drool and slobber in the comments or rb's or in my inbox. Be feral i DEMAND IT In all seriousness, your kind words mean the world to me ♡ ty for reading

Romey Tags

@goldenispunk @littlevenicebitch69 @gaeela-6 @bean-is-reading @slutsoutgutsout

@galarian-weezing-on-prep @cum-a-calla @pastelpinkflowerlife @kolsmikaelson @moth-maam56

@kothku @cult-of-escapism @swiftiegirliepop @bluecookies-and-ink @romanarose

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@lilipads @luiscarrutherss @baronessvonglitter @myromeow

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@baloobalee @slimybeth69 @pearlstiare @romanisbrat @callsignwidow @ziggymars

[jjoongstar]

𝕷𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖑𝖊 𝕾𝖔𝖚𝖑

➸pairing: grim reaper seonghwa x innocent fem reader

➸genre: fluff, angst

➸wc: 3.4k

➸warnings: none. mentions of nicknames. death

➸a/n: an apology post for being mia for a while (please forgive me). not proofread!😔🫂

you sat by the window seat in your bedroom, reading a book while you bask in the evening sun. a soft blanket over your lap to keep you cozy and a cushion behind your back. you were so into the story that you didn't bother on what's happening appearing, in your bedroom.

a tall dark figure appeared suddenly in your room and it approached behind you in silence. you sense the presence and looked over your shoulder right before the figure could touch you. its pale hand was near to your shoulder but it halted when you noticed its presence.

silence fills the air as you attentively tried to figure out, who or what even is this peculiar figure. tall and lean with a long black cloak that covers the top of its head and its whole body, only revealing its face and hands. you stare back at the eyes that bore into yours from the start. though he had an intimidating look, you didn't fear him at all. instead, you felt at ease with its aura.

"i really like your eyes,"

"what?" the unknown figure was taken aback by your words and he stumbled backwards a few steps.

its face contorts in a shocked expression and it felt its heart thump when you smile at it. it clutches the fabric of its robe over its chest, feeling the weird sensation. what the hell is this? i don't have a heart!

you marked the last page you read and place the book aside before you make small steps towards the unknown entity. your smile never falter as you reach up your hands and graze your fingers across its cheek. cold. his skin was iced cold on your fingertips. you saw how the entity hitched its breath upon your touch.

"you're so pretty too. who are you?" there was no response as it was still in a stunned state. you gasp when your brain connected the dots.

"are you perhaps… an angel?!"

"huh? EW NO!" it felt disgusted by your assumption of its identity and grabbed your wrist, shoving it away harshly from its face. when you winced in pain, guilty flooded its mind.

"sorry, i didn't mean to hurt or scare you," its raspy voice speaks again.

"you didn't scare me, why would i be afraid of an angel like you," a pretty face like that, who on earth would be afraid?

"first off, I'm not that kind of angel you think i am. also, everyone fears me, so why are you…smiling?"

"there's nothing scary of you angel!" you said giddily and beams a wider smile at him.

"stop calling me that!" it said through gritted teeth and eyes blaring in flame. but you kept that smile on your face, yet you felt more intrigued over this unidentified presence.

"then do you have a name i should call you? oh my name is-"

"i already know who you are. there's no need for introductions when…you're gonna…huh?" the last words from it fades slowly when you wrap your arms around its middle and your eyes full of gleam, looking at it from below.

its shaky hands tried to push you away but the way your face was full of admiration and eyes glimmer in hope, it tugs another string at its non-existent heart. i guess it wouldn't hurt for my name since she's gonna die either way.

"seonghwa. call me seonghwa,"

"hwa!" his name sounded so beautiful too, it matches his face really well and you felt so happy that he finally gave his name to you. you hugged him a bit tighter than before.

"no, seong…hwa," he emphasised every syllable of his name.

"hwa!"

"seonghwa,"

"HWA!" he sighs in defeat and lets you win. however, he felt his body getting relaxed when you have him in your hold. for once, he felt…comfort.

"now dear, the reason I'm here is to-"

"to accompany me!" you cut him off and release him from your grasp as you went to your wardrobe.

he tried to speak up in defense but you ignored him as you dress yourself up in something warm and suitable for an outside occasion. you grab his wrist and drags him towards outside. even though he is bigger and much stronger than you, he felt like he should just let you take him to wherever you wish. that is, to take a walk outside.

he kept on babbling he doesn't want to to this, but he still kept on walking beside you because your hand felt so soft touching his, and you never let go of his hand. after a while, you got used to his skin temperature. cold, but soft.

you pass by your neighbor's house and the owner greeted you. being your usual self, you gleefully greeted back with a wave of your hand.

"I'm here with a friend today," you tug seonghwa to show off to the old lady, but she had a concerned look instead of the expression you hoped for. was she not happy with the new friend?

"oh uh dear, i bet your friend must be as lovely as you are, i hope…. you go get along now," she mutters out the words carefully in a sentence. hoping she doesn't hurt your feelings.

you continued your journey with seonghwa and truthfully, you felt a bit sad that the lady didn't greet seonghwa too. does she not see him?

"no one can see me accept you," you turned your head over him surprised with his sudden response. can he read minds?

"well, let's say, magically, i do can read your mind, but just yours," he chuckles and you felt your heart flutters upon hearing him.

"so you are an angel!" you stopped in your tracks and tugs on his arm.

"not so, well, sort of, actually I'm a…uh…I'm…" he tongue refuses to mutter out the words as he saw the way your eyes sparkles in adoration and hope at him. he didn't have the heart to say the truth when you're like this. but you kept the smile on your face, waiting for his full response.

"yea, i am what you call that," he sighs.

"angel hwa!" you finally release his hand and you skipped your way back home. you've never felt so happier to eventually got a friend, an angel at that. that's what you thought he was.

seonghwa on the other hand, his lips formed into a small smile on his face, his eyes admiring you from behind. she looks so adorable. what the actual fuck? he slaps his own face, realizing his own actions.

you made yourself dinner and even made extra for seonghwa. he doesn't have to eat, but seeing your efforts in the cooking, he force the whole dish down his throat. he sat beside you and prop his chin with the palm of his hand while he admires you enjoying your meal. he likes the way you would squirm in joy and praise the food in every bite.

so cute. what the hell seonghwa?! he snaps himself out and clears up his throat. then tells you to clean yourself up for bed. you happily obliged to his orders with a happy stomach.

once you made yourself in bed, seonghwa tells you to sleep, but you only whine back at him as you were not that sleepy yet. seonghwa sighs and sits down beside you on the bed, he leans his back to the headboard.

"sleep now or you'll be cranky next morning," he pulls the blanket over your chest, tucking you in.

"but i don't get cranky," you whine again with a pout. seonghwa's lips betrays him once again with another smile and he caresses your head gently. yea, a pure soul like yours would never be in that state. a pure soul. SOUL!

seonghwa's eyes widen and found himself in a daze again and snaps out of it quickly. your eyes never left seonghwa's beautiful face. you want to admire it your whole life. you finally felt the drowsiness crept in when you yawned.

"will i see you again next morning, hwa?" you ask him with lidded tired eyes.

seonghwa hesitated at first. should he tell the truth or should he kept on lying? he bit his lip, before responding to you.

"yes, you will. that is if you close your eyes now sweetheart," you scrunch you nose when he boops it.

you felt so safe with him. you held hope in his promise. eager in wanting to see him first thing in the morning, and you force yourself to sleep.

seonghwa waited for you to finally drift off when your breathing fell consistent and your mind at peace. he stood up carefully from the bed, staring down at your whole body. he lets out a long sigh before he brings out the scythe he had kept hidden from your vision.

he needs to take your soul now. he was supposed to do that when he first met you, but he delayed. you were the first person to like him, to admire his beauty, the first human being to actually hugged him. hug. who knew a human would hug a grim reaper that was bout to take its soul away.

seonghwa grips the scythe's holder tighter. hesitate clouds his head. take her soul now seonghwa! he hovers the weapon above your body but his movements faltered when his eyes lands on your face, snoring quietly with a smile. must be having a nice dream.

FUCKING HELL SEONGHWA! he caught himself off guard and threw his scythe away as it disappeared again, back to its safe place. he walks away from you and runs his hand through his hair. frustration. confusion. denial.

he sits down on a chair that was facing you from a far. he decides to calm himself down and maybe wait a just little bit longer, then he'll take your soul. the night went on in silence as he stayed there admiring you from a far.

through the dark sky, from the same window he first laid eyes on you, dark smoke clouds behind it and slips through into the bedroom through a little gap. the smoke then swirls around the end of your bed and it thickens to form two new identical entities.

"fucking hell, look at her san!" said the first dark little figure with horns to the other one that looks just the same just a tad bit bigger.

you twist in your sleep that results in the blanket to be pushes aside, revealing your bare calves.

"wooyoung! she looks so scrumptious, don't you think?" the other one hovered over your body and points out at your exposed plump skin.

"i want to sink my teeth in and savor her…" the one named wooyoung reached out his hands and bare its teeth to you while his other companion, san, was already drooling to the thought.

"don't you two dare touch her, demons." a thundering growl elicits by the grim reaper from the darkness in the corner of the bedroom.

the two little demons shrieked and hugged each other as they were surprised by the sudden interruption of their nice meal.

"damn, seonghwa! calm down will ya. you're always cranky all the time, try smiling for once," wooyoung pulled away from san first and walks over to seonghwa but he only made a few steps before he halted as seonghwa gave him an intense glare.

"I'm a reaper, why should i be smiling you filthy thing. why do you two chose her to disturb tonight either way?" seonghwa stood beside your bed as to protect you from the harm of the two demons.

"well actually we're not here for her, we're here for you. she's just so beautiful we kinda got distracted," san was the one tho explained while wooyoung nodded, agreeing with him. seonghwa only gave a glaring look just for the same demon to further elaborate.

"her soul was supposed to collected, but in the list, its still hasn't, so we we're tasked to go check it out as it was your responsibility, seonghwa," a tight frown forms on the reaper's face. he knew this would happen. he sighs in annoyance before giving his reason.

"give me some time, i promise I'll give it soon. now go back to hell you two!" seonghwa shoos them away but they were whining not wanting to leave and stay with you.

"get the fuck out!" seonghwa opens wide the window before shoving the two outside and closes it back shut and pulls down the curtain.

he heard a soft sound from behind him, you were twisting and turning in your sleep, muttering incoherent words. he steps closer to you and heard you calling out for him, but your eyes were still shut. he lays himself down beside you and pulls you into his arms.

i shall never let anything taint your little innocent soul.

"hwa…" you mumble out his name and he shushes you back to sleep.

"I'm here, you're hwa is here."

your body felt his presence and snuggles into his chest. seonghwa pulls you in tighter and lets you rest under his protection for the entire night.

you felt bright light beaming onto your face and you were woken up by the sun shining from your window. your stretch out your limbs with a soft grunt. you felt sudden adrenaline that morning, it was the most peaceful sleep you've ever had and you wanted to tell seonghwa. you need see seonghwa. you looked all over your room, but no one was there.

"seonghwa?" you heart sinks when there was no response. did he left? but he promised…

"seonghwa!" you voice in a higher octave but cracked as you were on edge of bawling your eyes out.

"my dear, i was out to fetch some food for you," his voice erupted from the opening of the door. you jumped out of bed and ran towards him. he held the tray of a full meal higher in the air so it doesn't bump you when you abruptly wrap your arms around him.

"i thought you left,"

"well, i didn't, now sit down and eat your food, human," you happily made your way to a small table as seonghwa puts down the tray and lets you gobble them all up.

you were hugging in bed and you rest the side of your head to his chest, and you hum curiously as you let your hand wander around his chest.

"i don't have a heart sweetie," he said

"well, i do," you exclaimed and took his frail hand and place it firmly on your chest. he gasped quietly as he feels your heartbeat. the soft thumping felt so surreal to his hands. it felt so soft and beautiful. and he wanted to keep on feeling and hearing this heartbeat forever. to cherish it everyday of his immortal lifetime.

realization of his true demeanor made him snap out of the trance you put him in. he realized he should've end that beating heart of yours, not admire it.

he pushes you away from him. though, his actions never made you think negatively. you giddily grab him back and snuggles back on his chest. seonghwa was easily defeated by your innocence and he lets you get comfortable with him again. another day of spending more time you, and ignoring his true intentions.

days after days, you two spent a lot of time together, actually, the whole time. from morning to night, from dusk till dawn, from midnight to midday. every hour, every minute, every second. you enjoyed his company very much and he was getting more comfortable with you and protected you at all times behind your back without you knowing.

seonghwa sat on your bed with his legs crossed and back leans against the headboard as he listens attentively to your little rambling of the book you're currently reading.

"…and then the queen took in her late husband's mistress into becoming her new slave and they got married in the end! yayyy happily ever after to them!" you throw your hands both up in the air joyfully.

"you're so adorable, come here," seonghwa chuckles and you made your way to him before he pulls you down to sit on his lap.

the longer he stayed with you, you became very familiar of his bold and alluring scent. he smells so rich and seductive. the burst of sweet and spicy, like of coffees and vanillas which gives off a warm and also intoxicating aura.

seonghwa wraps your smaller body with his arms. you snuggle into his embrace as you leaned your back against his chest. his fingers trace undefinable patterns on the skin of your arms. you elicits soft giggle as it tickles you a bit. hearing your soft sounds, also made seonghwa giggles along with you. it tugs the heartstrings of his non existing heart.

you love little moments like this with him.

but luck was not on your side that day. the same smoke that almost haunt you in your sleep came back. though this time, it was only the the demon named wooyoung that appeared.

"yo seonghwa, its been three months. what took you so long to take…her…soul??" you gasp when you laid eyes on the horned devil. seonghwa quickly covered your eyes with his hands and you felt his chest vibrates as he growls.

"FUCKING HELL!! are you hugging…wait…why are you…no wait…have you lost your…wait WAIT…WHAT ARE EVEN YOU DOING PARK SEONGHWA?!!" the little menace widens his eyes. hands pulling the long strands of his hair. shouting. screaming. panicking. shocked? no, he was far more than that. he almost exploded with the sight in front of him.

you tried to release his hand as you wanted to have your visions back but his grip to your face became tighter.

"please leave…" you heard him sigh.

"please? did you just said please? damn, a reaper begging and said the 'P' word to a lowlife like me? that's a first. what have you become…"

"I SAID LEAVE!" the demon quickly disappeared right before the blade of seonghwa's scythe could touch him when he swung it.

the room fell in utter silence when seonghwa retracts his hand back. you looked down to your hands instead of looking to the man behind you.

"I'm sorry, i should've told the truth. that I'm-"

"a grim reaper,"

you felt seonghwa's body getting tense after hearing those words coming out from your mouth. you turned around and held his face in the palm of your hands.

"i already knew from the first time you came into my room,"

"huhh how? then…why did you-"

"you reek death, hwa," your chuckles made him giggle. let's savor this last smile of him before the last breath.

sorrow fills seonghwa's eyes. you couldn't help but feel bad for him. he pulls you closer to his chest, his face on the side of your neck, his hands placed themselves on your back, pushing you as close as he can to you. chest to chest. he felt every beat of your heart. remember and loving every thump. you wrap your arms around his neck and brush along his silky black hair.

"I'm really sorry…i should've done it sooner…i should not have grown attached to you…i-" you shush him and heard little sobs from the side of your ear.

he pulls you away and his hand cups the side of your cheek as his thumb rubs along your cheekbones. he pulls your face closer to his and place his lips onto yours. for an angel of death, his lips were soft and it tasted so sweet.

"forgive me, my little soul," he pulls away from you as his other hand grips the handle of his scythe behind you till it could almost snap in two.

"seonghwa." you trace your fingers across seonghwa's beautiful dark teary eyes for the last time.

you flash him a soft smile and gave him a last kiss on his lips. a tear rolled down seonghwa's face as he felt your last breath on his face and your body fell limp in his hold. he choked on his sobs when he no longer feel your lovely beating heart.

for a grim reaper who has no soul, he felt his non-existent heart shatter to a million pieces.

she finally said my name.

dividers

taglist: @engentiny @seonghw4ffles

network: @othersideoutlawsnetwork @illusionnet

[biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer]

So I just wanted to say your writing is the most delicious, delighted thing I ever read, I could basically inhale it :D It's like wow!!

Anyway just a small request (If ur not that busy) can you make hcs of how good parents the kid at the back characters would be if they had a kid with Mc. Please with ur fav ice cream with sprinkles and a cherry on top (if u like cherries) with extra scoops (u don't have to do it if u don't want to) If u do then ur officially getting a geo plushie for Christmas

THE ART OF PARENTAGE

First of all, thank you so much for the kind words! I'm glad you felt like you could request me, despite my inactivity and overall lack of existence here. I do thank you for the plushie though, looking forward to it. ;)

Sidenote: Pretty sure Brittney and Jess are too gay for each other to have the thought of kids cross their minds tbh.

-- Signed solemnly by @biggest-geo-oogami-enjoyer AKA Sky Fort(resse)s and Burning Citadels <3

Let's start with the following: this man detests children. Cannot stand them. Would rather die than be in the immediate vicinity of one. Alas, all rules have their exceptions, and for Sol that exception would be your child. His child. The happy little accident that must've happened during one of your more intense sexual escapades. Oh well. Least you both agreed on just one.

Anyway in terms of being a parent, Sol is a very supportive and soothing dad. Considering how he grew up in neglectful, isolated and abusive circumstances, he would be nearly obsessive in the desire to make this family as safe, loving and wholesome as possible. He would rather be spat on by Ichabod than even consider the option of laying hands on either you or your child. He feels repulsed at the sheer idea.

Sol's a very poetic and artistic man, with a love for history and literature; in short, the 'humanities' side of things. He's the type of guy that would put in extra effort to entertain or educate his kid, especially if they're the more curious type. He'll also encourage his child to experiment with things, with a focus on arts and crafts and the theatrical. Don't be surprised if your kid starts spurting out "Splendid!" or "Stupendous" in the middle of dinner - which Sol cooks, mind you.

He'll be self-conscious of walking with his child, especially if you're with him, because despite how happy he is alongside you and this child, he's got a lot of insecurities. He's been attacked several times during uni in the middle of the day, the last thing he wants is for some idiot to recognise him with a child - call him a kidnapper or childfucker - or pull some other shit unto him.

If something happens to you? Or his kid? That man or woman is fucking 66 feet under. No way is he letting that slide, only thing that's gonna be sliding is his cock inside you every single night. His sex drive is insanely high, the fact you somehow only got one offspring from him is astounding.

Sol's a very patient man, and in topics he's good at (which is everything, to the surprise of many), he serves as a tutor, often encouraging his kid to ask him questions of any sort - he loves the morbid ones - and he does his best to explain in as child-filtered a way as possible.

Very protective father figure, will be insanely watchful over your child and especially anyone else who interacts with it. He's often torn between wanting his kid to be popular and happy, while also subtly wishing his kid learns that it's better to be a loner and to pick and choose friends through shared interests, hobbies or beliefs.

As for you? This man is dying to be inside you, whatever breeding kink he had amplified significantly after you fell pregnant, and while part of him was terrified at the idea of being a dad (and annoyed he has to hide his lust for you now), he gets so horny at the idea of you being pregnant he's willing to dick you down 24/7. To be fair, if you both had the stamina and your bodies held the endurance, he def would, but that's besides the point.

Put succinctly, Solivan Brugmansia is an awesome dad, and fully plans on being the absolute best parent (and husband and sex fiend) possible.

Here lies Subaru Oogami (2002-2024)

Cause of death confirmed to be sheer fear of sexual intercourse, ire at a 5yo and, of course, "The Big Question". that big question being "do you want kids"

May he eternally rest in peace.

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

KIDDING!!! However, all jokes aside, Geo would rather be shot dead than be near a kid, and unlike the almightily horny emo 'freak' we know as Sol, Geo is repulsed by the idea of sex. AND children, so biologically the chances of him even considering it are near 0. Getting him to like you was labour enough, going into even more after 9 months is a crazy ask let's be real, and there's no way Geo will not be questioning why he's even here (look he's adopted if his dad left him he's gonna be shitting himself but at least he somewhat understands y'know).

The one way Geo can have a 'kid' with you is probably gonna be the same way Hyugo's family had him - adoption, and preferably not a newborn baby who shrieks and shits itself. Like a toddler is fine in his eyes (anything is fine but he'll never tell you that).

This child is definitely going to learn Japanese, piano and whatever the fuck else Geo and Hyugo were raised with and deemed somewhat useful.

Geo is a pretty stoic guy, and would remain so as a parent, but unlike with many others, he's much more attentive and considerate of both you and this child (he definitely gets along with this child, especially if it's also quiet and a loner like him).

Is the type of guy who gets severely attached but hates showing it, probably expresses affection through cutting fruits, cooking or doing something musically. Probably gives the child private concerts.

Would be extremely protective over the child, defends them at all costs, will use bodyguards - realize he doesn't trust them enough - and have the child holding his hand or in eyesight all the time. Hates feeling like he's not knowing what they're up to, if they're safe etc.

In terms of you, this man holds you in much higher regard. The fact you accepted his visceral hatred of sex, of everything, his fears and insecurities and stayed with him? Love him? AND decide to give another child a chance at life, like how the Sugimotos did for him? His heart is swelling his heart is ready his soul is in Heaven and his body is flushed at the thought that in a way, he does have a family with you. And, he doesn't hate it.

Banger parental figure and mentor, would be the type to drop bombshell level life lessons out of nowhere. ALSO IF THE KID IS INTERESTED HE DOES LITTLE COSMETIC THINGS WITH THEM. Mans would def play dress up to make the child satisfied.

"Mother, did you realize that Japan named an entire car franchise after dad?!" (Geo refuses to shatter this child's hope and faith in him lmfao).

Hyugo is a man of many words and a harsh past. He's seen a lot, done more, killed too many. In short, he's seen a lot of shit, so when he finds out you're pregnant after one of your more passionate escapades, he's stunned. Legitimately thinks you're kidding for a hot moment, before realizing you're serious.

He stood still when you told him, face eerily empty of emotion or feeling, before he stood up and lunged at you, pulling you into one of the most intense kisses he's ever placed on you. honestly considers doing it all over again to be certain but you don't need to know that

Mans is genuinely so excited he wants to burst. This child is learning Japanese and when old enough - self defense, jujitsu, kendo, whatever Hyugo thinks is efficient to learn (and also what he finds fun lmao); anything that can help the kid protect themselves and others. Speaking of protecting others, Hyugo's love of justice definitely is passed on. The kid and him watch true crime shoes (Rotten Mango and MrBallen are banger channels btw highly recommend).

Hyugo would 110% play video games with his child, the two would get highly competitive at times (Hyugo often lets the kid win, unless he's feeling particularly unforgiving), or stealing candy from the pantry and sharing it. May or may not take his kid to a gun club to learn how to shoot.

Wants the kid to stay away from the world of crime and murder by all means necessary, he can't afford letting that part of his life spread to his family - hence why he never speaks about why he tends to go missing for a while sometimes.

He'll even actively try to leave, and if he somehow temporarily escapes, he's taking you all somewhere far away, where no-one can ever find you.

He's wiling to kill, die and even live for you two, and that for Hyugo is everything.

Crowe is definitely on edge when the reality of his situation sets in. He's gonna be...a parent. He's the father of your child, you're the mother of his; the thoughts are swirling and twirling in his head as he's spiraling into a loop of sheer excitement and anxiety.

He's wealthy, he knows that he can provide well for you and the child, but all the logic and reason in the world can't calm his heart down. This is something he's secretly wanted for so long, but...the fact it's actually happening just hits different for him.

During the course of your pregnancy, this man may or may not get hot and bothered at the thought that you're so round and pregnant because of him. The fact you wanted this with him. Part of him is definitely struggling to remain composed. Definitely has anxiety about whether he'll be a good parent. Just to clarify, he is an incredibly good dad.

Crowe is someone I see being the dad who reads things to his kid, before bedtime or just in general. He's the type to serve as a role model asap. Will turn this child into the most well-spoken, respectful, kind little person the world has ever seen.

Is someone who helps with his kids homework, calmly explaining and re-explaining things and concepts to it. Tutoring always gave him a sense of calm peace, and it helps him bond with his kid, along with showing them early on that despite how sucky school is, you can still have some fun with learning.

Would do his kids' hair. Would go shopping with them and let them sit in the trolley (with some negotiation done by the child). He also like to share life lessons on these 'adventures', dropping quotes and morals so hard that the night said child was conceived looks light and dandy.

Would teach his kid how to cook, clean, do every chore possible, will find a way to make it fun( he def needed motivation as a kid lmfao). Also encourages his kid to go for walks outside, sometimes he even takes you all out stargazing. He'll teach you and your child every constellation and every star.

Crowe is definitely the type to memorise every appointment, friend, school, teacher etc. your kid has. The child and you matter so much to him, he's willing to ingrain everything to memory - the fact other men don't greatly concerns him - because you both are so worth it.

Would not mind if you asked him for another one, he loves the idea of building a family with you - and, well, seeing you pregnant - so expect that you both'll stop at...3?

TLDR: Crowe is a magnificent parental figure. Also teaches his kid how to be sarcastic.

Deryl is SO excited to be a dad, like beyond the normal levels a decent person would have. This guy is over the moon in terms of excitement, he becomes a jittery mix of terror and joy in the span of that day.

He becomes significantly more affectionate with you (so regular Deryl *12), insists on doing all the heavy work for you, is willing to fulfill all and any cravings you have during pregnancy; and even when the child is born, this man is hyperexcited.

He's a very loving and protective dad, willing to do whatever it is they wanna try or do (as long as it's not dangerous), especially if it involves sport. This man is willing to do all kinds of things in order to entertain his kid (and you).

Would definitely piggyback carry them everywhere while sharing random stories or fun facts he knows. Building off of facts, this man is pretty and smart, so he's gonna be a source of knowledge for your kid as well. He's an awesome role model as well, he's loving, sweet and he ensures his kid grows up respectful and loving life!

Deryl's a social butterfly, so he'd somewhat prefer if his kid was social as well, with good reason of course. He'd encourage your kid to know its worth and pick friends wisely. Would be an undying source of support if the child is sad or upset, whatever it is, he's gonna sit them down to watch a show and eat ice cream (totally doesn't get slightly more than acceptable for the both of them no he'd never).

Singing battles. Karaoke. Music, dance, performance. Deryl is so introducing his kid to music, every genre and every song you both like, will be princess twirling and everything.

He's become a source of prime amusement for the kid, not that anyone's complaining. He's also a prime partner and father.

The man will do his absolute best for you and this kid, and you're never gonna question or contemplate it for as long as you're with him (forever <3).

[opbackgrounds]

The Romanticism of One Piece VI: Nature and the Sublime

AO3 Part I Part V

“Then my heart with pleasure fills And dances with the daffodils”

—William Wordsworth

Anyone making even a cursory reading of the Romantics, particularly the English Romantic poets, will soon find an obsession with nature. Even in the early 1800s, the scars of the Industrial Revolution were starting to be felt in the environment. Increased urbanization, a technological boom, and the capitalistic glut for increased output which in turn demanded the consummation of increased natural resources was destroying old orders one after the other in order to make room for the coming modern age. 

The advent of trains, steamboats, and the telegraph changed the way people traveled and communicated forever. The allure of the city drove people from the countryside to work long, dangerous hours in factories. It seemed like the traditional way of things was being lost, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. Poets and artists looked back fondly on the simplicity of their youths, and went in search of the beautiful and the sublime. 

When reading these poems and looking at these pieces of art, you’ll also find that solitude was an important aspect of this search, the ability to get away from the neverending wheel of the rat race to be alone with one’s thoughts. Quoting from Walden, Thoreau said it best, “I went to the woods because I wished to live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.” There was so much about modern society and civilization that rang false to these men, and it was only when communing with the primordial forces of nature that these falsities could be stripped away to reveal something pure and true.

One Piece is a manga that delights in its environments. Oda has clearly done his research while lovingly rendering each location, particularly once the series hits the Grand Line. I’ve always been amazed about how even minor islands with little page time feel fully realized, and how even similar environments can be easily distinguished from one another at a glance. The jungle of Little Garden looks nothing like the jungle of Skypiea, which in turn is completely distinct from Green Bit. 

Similarly, Robin’s desire to preserve and protect ancient relics of the past is something the Romantics would have approved of, and with Luffy at the helm, the Straw Hat Pirates don’t just travel the wonders of the Grand Line, but embrace each and every island they come across, no matter what insanity lies in wait. While it’s not a central focus of the series, arcs like Wano and Egghead explore environmental themes and the dangers of pursuing technological advance at the cost of careful ethics.

Poet William Wordsworth famously fought against building a railway through the Lake District of England, where he lived and wrote much of his best-regarded work, so much so that he wrote a sonnet voicing his displeasure with the proposed project, as well as the thought of hundreds of unappreciative tourists destroying the peace and beauty of the area. 

So while nature was to be appreciated, it was to be appreciated in the right way. It wasn’t enough to take in the sights for the sight’s sake, but an experience to be savored. Nature was an essential part of these writers and artist’s creative muses, and while many Romantics weren’t orthodox in their religion, there was a spiritual aspect in their veneration of the created world, particularly in their search for the sublime.

One Piece and the Sublime

“I have felt a presence that disturbs me with the joy of elevated thoughts; a sense of sublime, of something far more deeply interfused, whose dwelling is the light of setting sun, and the round ocean, and the living air, and the blue sky, and in the mind of man” —William Wordsworth

While the concept of the sublime existed long before the Romantic period, it was the Romantics who really took the idea and ran with it. It must be said that the sublime as talked about here is quite different from how the word is typically thought of in the modern day. The sublime’s roots are found in philosophy, as a sub-branch of the study of aesthetics. In his essay A Philosophical Enquiry into the Ideas of the Sublime and the Beautiful, late Enlightenment/early Romantic writer Edmund Burke for the first time divided the ideas of the sublime and the beautiful into two distinct and separate categories. This essay was hugely influential to the Romantic movement going forward, particularly in England. 

According to Burke, “Whatever is fitted in any sort to excite the ideas of pain and danger, that is to say, whatever is in any sort terrible, or is conversant about terrible objects, or operates in a manner analogous to terror, is a source of the sublime; that is, it is productive of the strongest emotion which the mind is capable of feeling.” 

So, in short, the sublime is a powerful emotion. The most powerful emotion a person is capable of feeling. In typical English fashion, Burke thought the strongest negative emotions were more powerful than the strongest positive emotions, so it stood to reason that the sublime must in turn come from the negative. While this might initially read as a rather unpleasant experience, the sublime was something actively sought out by the Romantics, and according to Burke was a pain that caused delight. 

Attempting to define something as ineffable as the sublime is like trying to define love. No matter how many lines a poet inks or how many portraits an artist completes attempting to capture the feeling of lightning striking the soul, they will always be incomplete. It’s the feeling of going out to an open prairie and being crushed by the weight of the sky, or walking in the shadow of a mountain and feeling your own smallness. It’s looking up at the bright night sky and recognizing that you are one amongst billions, a speck of cosmic dust drifting aimlessly on an insignificant planet in the corner of an insignificant galaxy in a universe whose vastness you can’t begin to comprehend. 

It’s the finite’s attempt at grasping the infinite, a complete breakdown of the rigid walls of the Enlightenment thinkers, the embrace of irrationality and emotion over cold, calculated reason. To use one of Burke’s own examples, it's the peasant kneeling before the dread majesty of their king. For some it was a way to commune with God. For others it replaced God altogether.  

Take for example a painting like The Monk by the Sea by Caspar David Friedrich. The titular monk is tiny compared to the broad vastness of the sky and ocean, which seems about to swallow him whole. Whether the figure in the painting is contemplating the divine, or whether the sublimity of the moment is itself divine is open to interpretation, and like many figures in Friedrich’s works, the monk is turned away from the viewer so his face, his identity, is not visible, because who any individual person is when compared to this overwhelming force is insignificant. 

While terror was important to Burke in searching out the sublime, it was equally important that there be a layer of distance between the perceived danger and the subject searching for it. After all, the sublime was something to be contemplated just much as it was experienced. A sailor caught in a storm is just fighting for their life. There’s no ability to allow themselves to reflect on the nature of eternity on a mortal soul when they’re trying not to drown. But a person contemplating a painting of a ship caught in a storm, or better yet watching a stormy sea from a high cliff, has that element of terror without actually placing a person in immediate danger. That distance allows the person to be subsumed in the moment, in the feeling, of the sublime.

As a manga, there is a natural distance between the reader and what goes on in One Piece. The wild, cartoonish, fantasy further separates it from the real world. This gap is perhaps too great for some to find the sublime within its pages. At the same time, it ticks many of Burke’s boxes: the vastness of its world, the displays of power from the characters within, the call to imagination, awe, wonder, and, yes, terror. While I very much doubt Oda had the idea of the sublime in mind when he came up with the idea with Conqueror’s Haki, overwhelming power causing the weak-willed to faint while foaming at the mouth very much fits the vibe Burke was going for in his essay.

If given a choice in the matter, Luffy will always take the more dangerous path forward. While he’s not nearly contemplative enough for the traditional Romantic mindset, the narrative rewards his desire to seek out experiences and adventure. The series’ focus on emotional truth over realism invokes powerful feelings in the reader. The wonder of the White White Sea is all the stronger because of the danger of the Knock-Up Stream. The descent to Fishman Island is made all the more grand by the fragility of the bubble that protects the crew. The vast majority of the East Blue Saga is spent hyping up the danger of the Grand Line, and wouldn’t you know it, the Straw Hats barely sail into its waters for five minutes and there’s already a dozen things trying to kill them.

Even places like Water 7, which the Romantic’s push against urbanization would not have seen as sublime, is elevated by the whimsy of the sea train and the danger of Agua Laguna. Oda takes inspiration from all over the world and elevates those inspirations into something greater than reality, injecting so much high fantasy creativity and verve into every location that the reader cannot help but be moved. And nowhere can this be better seen by how Oda portrays the sea.

To quote Burke one last time, “A level plain of a vast extent on land, is certainly no mean idea; the prospect of such a plain may be as extensive as a prospect of the ocean; but can it ever fill the mind with anything so great as the ocean itself? This is owing to several causes; but it is owing to none more than this, that the ocean is an object of no small terror.” 

[kurishiri]

Premium END ┊ Wrapped in a Wicked Romance —Darius Vogel—

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

— cw: depiction of drowning and near-death experience. p.s., i left a new years message in the end!

——Care to see what said ‘most unfortunate’ future is as well?

—— Alleyway ——

(…was what Darius said. It’s almost like…)

(Whatever is approaching upon that gentleman would be his most unfortunate future.)

Looking on at the gentleman’s back down the alleyway, I felt my skin stand on edge.

The gentleman, who appeared to be of high social status with his refined attire and fine mustache,

walked toward the poor district, playing into the premonition of his fate.

(Why here, of all places? It hardly fits him...)

While I held my own doubts, we chased after him, not flinching once from the darkness, and——

—— Sewer ——

(...Whoa.)

Upon stepping inside, we were greeted with the roaring sound of flowing water.

And from the waterway flowing on one side, I could pick up a pungent odor.

Darius: This smell is awful. My nose may as well wrinkle up from it.

D: I have a really good sense of smell, so just being here’s enough to make me dizzy.

(Come to think of it, while looking for the mille feuille, it looked like he was sniffing it out...)

(So he found that patissiere through his sense of smell?)

While thinking so, all of a sudden, I heard the gentleman’s voice from up ahead.

Gentleman: Whoa——

A group of rats gathered at his feet surprised the gentleman so much, his foot slipped...

(Ah——!)

His form fell in, as though he were being sucked into the flowing waterway.

When we ran up to him, the man was writhing, bobbing up and down within the dirty waters.

Gentleman: P-please...help me...gh...

The gentleman, seeming desperate, reached a hand out to us.

Kate: Darius, we have to save him, or he’ll end up drowning... wait, what are you doing?

Darius: Just curious about a little something.

Darius didn’t approach the man, instead reaching for the bag the gentleman was holding and started to rummage through it.

Kate: Why in the world are you interested in a bag when another person is here needing to be saved!?

Darius: That man was fated to die by drowning in this dirtied water from the start. So I’ll need to see this out to the end, whether he’s a human worth living if we’re going to save him, you know.

D: ——See, look here, I found something pretty interesting.

Kate: Wh...

He took out one sharp knife after another from the bag.

And they weren’t the type used in the hospital, nor were they steak knives, nor those used by chefs.

Darius: This one’s got blood too. He probably used it recently to stab someone, I’d say.

Kate: W-what in the world...

Darius: This man is a killer.

What came out of Darius’ mouth was shocking, but he said it in such an indifferent tone.

Darius: And from the way these were used, I can tell this man’s been killing for the fun of it for a long while now.

D: And behind those fancy clothes he’s familiar with the part of town where the poor reside in, so I’d say he aimed for those who lived around here.

D: After all, if they were to disappear just like that from existence, no one would think anything of it. Insignificant, weak humans through and through.

D: Let’s see, some place like an orphanage, for example. It’s possible there were countless children who’ve been targeted by him.

D: And on top of that, he seems to be of high status in society — what a waste for society though — so it would probably just be covered up as an accident.

D: And so here we are——we have a choice to make.

Kate: A choice?

Darius narrowed his eyes, and as though imposing judgment, he pointed at the drowning man.

Darius: Of course I mean the choice about whether we lend a helping hand to this serial killer here.

D: What his fate will be... oh, oh, I know. I’ll let you decide his fate.

D: I’m reaaally curious what sort of choice you’ll make.

With a beaming smile, he stepped on the gentleman’s head.

Gentleman: Guagh— p-please...sa...ve...

Darius: As one of Crown, would you condemn an evil that can’t be judged? Hehe... well, Kate? What’re you going to do?

Kate: Darius, please, stop this.

Even now, it seemed as though the gentleman’s hand would slip from the edge of the waterway, and I quickly grabbed his hand.

Darius: Hmm, so you’re going to save him. Are you sure? There might be even more victims then.

Kate: Of course I don’t want that——

(So that’s why...)

Kate: If you want to be saved, then promise you won’t kill anyone else, and turn yourself in to the police.

When I turned to the gentleman and said this, he clung onto my hand, nodding over and over.

Darius: I’m here thinking he’s just nodding so he can get help. You must be an extreme goody-two-shoes if you honestly believe it.

While listening to Darius, who was speaking from above, I put more strength in to pull the gentleman’s hand.

Kate: I don’t know if those are his true feelings or not. But— I do want to believe it is.

(I have no consideration for a serial killer. But...)

Kate: Besides that, atoning with life is far more suffering than doing so with death... so, I won’t let him take the easy way out!

K: As Crown, that is how he should be condemned.

Darius: .........hmm.

D: So when all’s said and done, you believe him, huh. Humans really are foolish ones, aren’t they. Well, not that that’s any news to me.

Darius shrugged and——

Kate: Hold tight on my han... ah——

Darius: Pulling him up by yourself wouldn’t be very feasible, no?

Holding the gentleman’s arm, he pulled him out of the waterway.

Kate: hah, hah... Thank you for helping out, Darius.

Darius: Well, if you were to fall in the water and drown too, I’ll be lucky if Victor leaves it at a lecture.

D: And you seem quite important to Lord Rex too, and I’d rather not be hated by my king over something so trivial.

Kate: But even so, the fact remains that you did help me, so I want to properly give you my thanks.

Darius: Hehe, you’re so earnest it amazes me.

As for the gentleman who was drowning——while shivering, he said...

Gentleman: ...I’ll go turn myself in now.

Perhaps scared out of his wits from coming face to face with death, he admitted to his own sins and left.

Darius: A shame I couldn’t see a more grand condemnation.

As proof he wouldn’t kill more people, the gentleman had left the bag behind, which Darius kicked.

The bag and the knives inside then sank to the depths of the waterway in a matter of moments.

Darius: Let’s head back now. My clothes are all muddy and it feels awful.

(Oh, I didn’t realize, but his white clothes are...!)

Kate: I-I’m so sorry... because of me...

Darius: Indeed, ‘because of you’ is right. It’s because you chose to let that man live that I now look so terrible.

D: So take responsibility for it.

Kate: S-so you say, but how...

Darius: Oh, so I can decide that? Then I’ll give you a fitting punishment.

In the front was the captivating smile of an angel, and in the back, the roars that reverberated from the waterway.

Darius: Stay as my lover until the day ends.

With nowhere to run, I couldn’t help but shrink back where I stood——and still smiling, the angel wrapped me around with his graceful arms, which resembled the wings of a bird.

Fin.

← prev epilogue -> bitter

NOTES: happy new year, friends! 🥂✨ first off, i just want to say a big big biiig thank you to those who have left comments, asks, and messages to me! i’ll reply to them soon, but i just want to say thank you for now /gen it’s really comforting to know and get a sense of reassurance that — yes, people do read what i do, that i can have a positive impact on others’ days, and that people enjoy what i translate. i’m sorry if i did worry anyone, and i also value any discussion on the matter too. but i hope we all have a lovely 2025, and that whatever resolutions you and i have, i hope we can fulfill 🤍🤍

masterlist 🪽 ┊ ko-fi ☕️ ┊ comms 🤍

[fuck-you-upmusicbracket]

Achilles Come Down (Gang of Youths)

The self is not so weightless, nor whole and unbroken/Remember the pact of our youth/Where you go, I’m going, so jump and I’m jumping/Since there is no me without you

How, the most dangerous thing is to love/How, you will heal and you'll rise above/Crowned by an overture bold and beyond/Ah, it's more courageous to overcome.

You may feel no purpose/Nor a point for existing/It's all just conjecture and gloom/And there may not be meaning/So find one and seize it/Do not waste your self on this roof

Soldier on, Achilles, Achilles, come down/Won't you get up off, get up off the roof?

"I'm sure you'll get other submissions for this one. I have no idea who this band even are outside of this song but it fucks me up like it does everyone else. It's the tragic love of it all. The desperation of trying to save your loved one from themselves. Or are the narrators of the song Achilles' own conscience representing his indecision on whether to kill himself or not? It can mean so many things and SO many parts of the lyrics are very poetic and powerful. (also again for me this makes me cry over a Specific Blorbo in this case Dimitri Blaiddyd but that doesnt matter)"

"The cellos in the background, the lyrics, telling the story of Achilles, the fact that it's fucking 7min long, it's beautiful, it breaks me to then pull me back together, it gave me hope in a moment where I wasn't in the best mental space, it's like getting undressed to your very soul only to be cover up with a weighted blanket afterwards and be told "it'll be alright." It's like that image with the guy that's like "this is cinema" but with a song, god I love this song so much"

"Ohhhg my god. It’s so. It’s a fucking heartbreaking song but it gives hope (^^see abovw lyrics. there may not be meaning so find one and seize it gets me the most). I can’t say anymore about it but yeah"

"Achilles is about to jump off the roof, his lover is trying to convince him not to. the vibe of this song itself is so unique, the violin and the segments of French reading really grip at your soul. Towards the end there are two voices seemingly arguing. One voice is Achilles’s inner monologue and the other is his lover trying to yell over it. This part is my favorite, especially if you’re envisioning your blorbo. Tbh in my darkest times I would fall asleep to the ten hour loop every night. It felt like laying on a rooftop and looking out at the stars and the street lights. I think maybe it kept me from doing things I would regret."

Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)

You got a fast car, I want a ticket to anywhere/Maybe we make a deal, maybe together we can get somewhere/Any place is better, starting from zero got nothing to lose/Maybe we'll make something, me myself I got nothing to prove

So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car/Speed so fast, I felt like I was drunk/City lights lay out before us/ And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder/And I-I, had a feeling that I belonged

You got a fast car/Is it fast enough so we can fly away?/We gotta make a decision/Leave tonight or live and die this way

"I know it's an obvious one but YOU try playing it without crying I dare you"

"I cant explain the yearning but this makes me howl"

"OH GOD the longing!! The yearning in the recurring central image of the narrator and her lover on the highway, feeling this sense of limitless possibility and incredible hope!!! And then the verses take us with brutal efficiency through the collapse of their marriage, the way that the cycle of poverty stomps down on their hopes, and how with nothing left, the narrator does what her mom did and leaves!! Leaving the kids to experience the same thing she did growing up!! But it’s all punctuated and bookended by these callbacks to that central iconic memory of hope!!!!! But by the end we realize that the last line “leave tonight or live and die this way” offers only the illusion of a choice: when the narrator first runs away and later when she leaves her husband and kids, she’s still fulfilling her role in this cyclical generational story. God!!"

Fast Car submitted by @smallboyonherbike + @uchihasasukeofficial + @all-our-exploring

[slimybeth69]

Thirst: Part 6

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: There's a bunch y'all and I'm not giving any of them away because it would spoil the chapter. So, this is your warning: 18+ themes after the cut!! BEWARE!!!!

Chapter Summary: Your life in the tower was a thing of the past- is that a good thing?

a/n: Heyyyyy, so I've been the most nervous about THIS chapter since I started writing this story. It's... different. So have fun!! And also lets imagine that bows and arrows don't exist. (This is non-canon to the movie)

Your beautiful tower is a thing of the past. It’s been days since you slept there – or even stepped foot inside it. 

Now that you're no longer in your wonderful room, with its big soft mattress and comfortable sheets, you're forced to share a bed with someone you do not like. It’s all too reminiscent of when you were living at the brothel – except the man you were now forced into such close proximity with didn’t even want to touch you.

Hanno The Barbarian is what the Emperors had called him. 

You are sure they had hoped he would rape you, or kill you, but instead he treats you as if you do not exist.

You were supposed to be the one to service him after his fights, should he be fortunate enough to survive. You would have, but apparently he is just one more man who won't let you touch him. It feels as though the gods are laughing at you.

From what you have observed, Hanno isn't like the rest of the brutish men who fight and die in the pit. He's quiet. He’s never impulsive. At times he almost seems gentle. Though he’s undefeated and feared for his ferocity in the games, you wonder whether he would hurt anyone at all if he were given the choice.

Hanno won't speak to you or let you attend to his injuries. You might as well not even be there.

How did you end up here? For a time, it seemed like there was a chance of putting the girl you’d been behind you. You wouldn’t always be another girl who was bought and sold to ease the worries or fulfill the pleasures of men. For a time, you thought it might even be possible to feel loved and cared about. 

You had actually begun to feel that contentment – for a few brief moments – before the fantasy dissolved with the arrival of a slave trader at your door. 

There had been no guards outside your quarters, no handmaids to explain to you what was happening. There was just this man with his charming smile and soothing voice, delivering terrible news.

“Acacius said your time together has come to an end. You need to come with me.”

General Marcus Acacius had sold you. 

You felt numb as you took the man’s hand and left your rooms, but with each step down the staircase that numbness was replaced by a deep ache in your chest. It felt like someone had extracted your heart, carved ‘foolish’ into the flesh, and then replaced it back inside your broken ribs.

After the night you had shared, Marcus had abandoned you without a word. He never told you where he was going, or when he’d be back.

How could you have been so naive? to let yourself set your hopes on his beautiful empty words.

Of course it was too good to be true.

He had sold you to be a new plaything for the emperors, and he had been too much of a coward to hand you over himself. 

When you arrived at the palace, the memory of those tender promises he'd whispered to you—promises of a new life in a new place—turned to burning, bitter rage. You let that rage fill your chest, burying whatever hurt still remained.

Like spoiled children, the twins hated to see anyone enjoying something that they didn’t have, and the favored pet of their recalcitrant general was the ultimate prize. 

It was no secret that the twins had wanted to see what all the fuss had been about but you refused them violently each time. 

Even with the threat of torture and then eventual death, you never folded. Never once let them put their hands on you. 

You had smiled in their faces when the guards dragged you from their bed chambers sneering, "Death is better than the little one's weeping cock." 

That’s how you ended up down here though, in the gladiatorial bathhouse, watching Hanno soak. 

“Does it hurt badly?” You nod your head towards the relatively large gash on his left pectoral.

He doesn’t say anything, he doesn’t even look at you when he shrugs his shoulders. 

There is a moment where you want to shove his head under the water and hold him there. Then, there is the part of you that knows he isn’t here because he would like to be. He is a prisoner just like you. 

With a loud sigh and a roll of your eyes, you grab the clean rag on the side of the stone tub and dip it into the warm water. Instead of reaching out to him, trying to do it yourself, you just hand him the now dripping piece of cloth. 

Hanno stares at it for a moment, as though this is a foreign gesture to him. Kindness. Care. 

“I know you understand me, I know you can speak as well,” you urge him to take what’s in your hand, and wave the other towards the iron barred door.  “I’ve heard you talking to the others.”

“Why is it so important that I speak to you?” His voice is much deeper up close and when he’s not whispering to the healing men that come to stitch up the fighters, or the other gladiators themselves.

It’s jarring how his voice plucks at each one of your veins like the strings of an instrument. You’re almost vibrating off the side of the tub. “It’s not important, it’s just nice to have someone to talk to. Instead of just talking to myself…or the wall.” 

Hanno snorts softly and takes the rag from you. He dips it back into the steaming water and lifts it gently to his chest. He winces and sucks air in between his clenched teeth. 

“I knew it hurt,” you tease him lightly. 

His eyes shoot up to yours, like he’s angry with you for even speaking– there’s a darkness to them that you’ve never seen before, but there is also a smirk playing across his lips. “You talk too much,” he growls and now the smirk feels malicious with the way his eyes are narrowed on you.

“Now I wonder why I ever wanted you to start talking,” you grumble, feeling foolish for trying to lighten the mood. “I’ve been down here with you for days, and that is the first thing you can say to me?” You try to swallow down the lump that’s forming in your throat. “I didn’t banish you to these cells. I’m stuck here, just like you.” 

Hanno releases the now crimson-stained cloth into the murky water. "I apologize," he murmurs, but his words echo in the eerie stillness of the dungeon. "Everything here seems like a twisted joke..."

“What do you mean?” 

The water sloshes against the side of the tub lightly as he sinks further into the comforting warmth. You think it might be the only comfort Hanno receives anywhere in this place. 

It’s more comfort than you’ve been able to find, and you’ve been searching. Looking for something safe and constant since long before you became a plaything for the Emperors. 

"You..." Hanno trails off, his tone rising in a question rather than a statement.

Your nostrils flare in defense, “...have been discarded by the ones I love and treated like an animal by the morally depraved—” Your words come out bitterly because it is true. 

“You call me depraved?” He hisses, “Have you seen those men dripping in gold, wearing lavish robes—” 

“Who do you think appointed me to be your special companion ? You thought I volunteered for this?" You scoff, crossing your arms over your chest. “I would give anything to just go home.”

This is your home now, unfortunately. A cell shared with a gladiator. What happens if Hanno is able to buy his freedom? Or, more likely, when he’s finally killed in the pit? What will you do then?

"What brought you here, to Rome?" he asks, turning the conversation back to you.

“Money.” The word slips out before you can stop it, it’s wrapped up in sadness and a hint of disdain. "My family was struggling, our farm was failing, and the taxes were impossible. And not out of cruelty, but desperation— I became the price of its survival."

Hanno's expression shifts to something that resembles pity, tangled with a strange understanding. "So your family sold you to the Emperors?" he asks, running the wet cloth across his wounded chest.

"I was sold to a brothel and then bought by a man, and then sold again to a different man who then brought me here." You shake your head at your sad story of a life. "The Emperors wanted to bed me, but I fought them, told them I would rather die—"

"So they sent you down here?" He laughs, but you don't get the impression he's laughing at you or your misfortune. It's almost a chuckle of disbelief. "Worse than death, I assume— for someone like you."

"That was their thinking, but apparently they chose the one gladiator that has no interest in getting his cock wet." You can't help but feel like that alone is a win. Hanno hasn’t hurt you, so they don't get the satisfaction. They lost.

The iron door suddenly clangs open. A guard appears and he looms in the doorway, "Cleaning time is over," he barks. "Back to your cell."

Marcus groans loudly as Lucilla finishes straightening the clasps that hold his cape around his shoulders.

She gives him a sour look, “Can’t you act as if you don’t hate doing this?” Lucilla asks with a sour look on her face. “You and I both know they get a rise out of the fact that you do not enjoy-”

“I just came back from the road and barely had time to wash my ass,” Marcus grumbles, letting his wife adjust the golden clasps on his cape. "This is just another way for them to show me that I’m under their thumbs, but not for much longer—"

Lucilla scolds him softly,“You cannot speak that way, not here.” She glances around nervously, looking for ears that may be listening to conversations that aren’t meant for them. “You act as if we are already free,” she whispers almost silently in his ear.

Marcus will always have love for Lucilla in his heart, that’s why he knows he could never leave her behind to fend for herself.

Lucilla had been through so much in her life— the murder of her father, the corruption and cruelty of her brother, Commodus, and ultimately the cruel loss of her first love, Maximus. 

After Commodus was killed, Lucilla did not have one blood relative to keep her safe here in Rome- to protect her. As an upcoming General, Marcus knew that the only way to ensure her safety was to marry her.

The Colosseum is loud, chaotic, and packed with spectators. It's too hot, and there isn't enough wine for Marcus to pretend he’s enjoying himself. He sits rigid and uncomfortable in the imperial box.

The twins, Geta and Caracalla, sit just in front of Marcus and his wife.

Caracalla looks over his shoulder, "Enjoying the spectacle, General?"

"As always, Emperor." Marcus knows better than to show any sign of discomfort. Years of military training have taught him to maintain a neutral expression, even as his mind races with thoughts of you.

Alone in that forsaken room, longer than ever before. He knows you probably hate him, and he’ll have to make it up to you. He would do whatever it took, he just wishes he didn’t have to.

"We have a special match today. One you might find…interesting." Geta says with a mirthless chuckle 

Marcus wonders what the hell that could mean. The fights always end in one way – many men dead and only one victor. This is truly a sport invented by men who have only known the comfort of a palace. True soldiers have seen too much death to find entertainment in it.

The roar of the crowd grows louder as two gladiators enter the arena. Marcus recognizes one of them as the newest fighter— The Barbarian. He’s made a name for himself in the pit and impresses Marcus with his strength and cunning every time.

Lucilla has even taken an interest in him, and that’s very unlike her. This brutal sport only brings up painful memories for her, but Marcus notices her leaning forward in her chair, trying to get a better view of the fighter.

The roar of the crowd becomes a drone as Marcus’s mind drifts to you again – wondering where you are, what you're doing.

The last time he saw you had been the morning after your shared night together. You were begging him not to go with tears rolling down your face. It broke his heart every time he had to pull his hands out of yours, surprised by your strength when you were so desperate for him to stay close to you.

Once this fight was over, Marcus would run straight to you. He would kiss your tears away, lick them off your cheeks and whisper apologies in your ear.

He would never be away from you ever again. Tonight was the night that the three of you would escape the necrotic touch of the Emperors.

“Does The Barbarian look familiar to you at all?” Lucilla’s quiet voice in his ear brings him back to the arena, and the two men fighting— well, no, it’s just the young man now. His opponent was dead at his feet.

Marcus takes a closer glance at the man- barely a man, a boy really. There is a certain familiarity in the way he stood. Even the way he fought was like something or someone Marcus had seen before, but he couldn’t place it.

“I’m not sure,” he turns to look at his wife and sees the worry behind her eyes. “Do you recognize him?”

Lucilla doesn’t get a chance to answer.

The loud booming voice of the announcer fills the arena once again. "The Barbarian is once again— victorious!" He bellows.

The crowd goes wild. The new gladiator has been a favorite since he arrived in Rome as a prisoner of war. A war that Marcus had brought to that young man's land and home. That was the story of many of these gladiators, and Marcus tried to forget their faces at night but it was nearly impossible.

"General, are you listening?" Geta is standing beside Marcus now, whispering in his ear. "You'll want to be sure to hear this…"

Marcus dials back into what is being said by the announcer.

"…very interesting game to play!"

He only catches the last bit, and now he strains his eyes to see what's happening in the sandy pit below him.

The Barbarian is being handed another sword by a guard who runs back into one of the tunnels that lead into the arena.

"Our victor has one more opponent to fight, a beast with fur, teeth and razor sharp claws!" The man announcing makes a grand show with the thematic way he talks. "But this is no ordinary fight, our Barbarian has something very important to protect!"

This was quite interesting. Marcus has never seen a fight like this before.

"Bring in 'The Golden Girl'"

For a moment, this means nothing to Marcus and he wonders who the new female gladiator could be. 

It's not until you walk out, wearing a gown that mimics the tunic he's wearing now- white and gold - that he realizes what has happened.

Marcus’s hands tense on the arms of the chair as he tries to steady his breathing.

The Barbarian turns to face you as you quickly make your way to him, but his stance is protective, not aggressive. Something about the way he looks at you, the way he pushes you behind him, suggests he knows you. 

Marcus isn’t sure he understands what’s going on— you don’t have fur or teeth, or razor sharp claws. You’re far from a beast.

Lucilla's hand finds Marcus'sarm, her grip is tight, as though she senses something is wrong. "What’s going to happen to that girl?" she whispers. Marcus glances at her, watching her eyes darting between you, the Barbarian and the only tunnel with an open gate.

The announcer starts to speak, Marcus only just able to hear him over the deafening roar of the blood in his ears, and his own heartbeat thudding wildly in his chest. It reverberates in his whole body like that of the drum used during battle– sending signals and commands to his troops.

“Someone in our audience surely is brave enough to help our gladiator defend this little bird.”

This beating inside his chest is a signal. A command to go to you. Run to you– jump out of this damn imperial box just to hold you in his arms.

The announcer continues to shout nonsense, but Marcus is no longer listening. He only feels his throat constrict, watching you in the arena. Wondering what’s in store for you, and how he’s the one who put you there. This is what he had been so afraid of.

The white and gold gown you're wearing catches the sunlight, making you look ethereal, while still terrified.

Your eyes are glued to the back of the gladiators head, and Marcus can see the tears in them from here. He feels as though he may be sick. Lucilla’s hand on his arm grips— her fingernails digging into his skin. Marcus can feel her staring at him.

“You know her,” she breathes.

“I do.”

Marcus isn’t ashamed that Lucilla can see you, or that she even knows about you now— she had known about the lover Marcus had wanted to take before he had even met you. This was something that had been spoken about, considered and then agreed upon by both parties with one condition from Lucilla.

To be taken somewhere she could find love again, a real passionate love that wouldn’t be taken from her. A place where she may then search for her son without the threat of deadly Emperor’s.

Lucilla had even offered to house you in her private, guarded villa and Marcus refused, saying it was too dangerous to have his mistress so close to home.

Rome was dangerous and now he could kick himself.

“That’s your Dove?” Lucilla whispers into his ear.

Shocked, Marcus twists his head to look at her curiously but says nothing. He only cocks one eyebrow as Lucilla loosens her grip on his arm.

“You’ve spoken of her in your sleep,” she sounds heartbroken, but Marcus knows it’s not because she’s hurt by his indiscretions, but because he’s had to be away from you for so long. Lucilla looks as though she were in real physical pain for him. “Go to her and keep her safe, Acacius.”

“It looks as though she may need another defender, General.” Geta’s haughty tone sends a violent shiver down Marcus'sspine.

There are three thoughts going through Marcus'smind as he leaves the imperial box.

Rescue you. Kill the Emperors. Get out of Rome.

“Get out there!” A guard growls and pushes you out of the darkened tunnel that leads you into the gladiator pit.

You stumble, but keep your footing and finally look around. There are more eyes locked onto you than you could ever imagine. More eyes looking at you now than ever before and probably ever again.

Hanno is in the center of the pit and when his eyes fall on you, they go wide with surprise- like he cannot believe you’re here.

You can’t really believe it either; you had just been sitting in your cell, imagining the last time you and Marcus had been together.

Marcus stirs in his sleep as you gaze down at his handsomeness. You are completely blessed by the gods that such a good looking man wanted to lock you away from everyone else so he could keep you all to himself. That was very flattering and you cannot deny that, not one bit. It makes a liquid heat pool in your belly whenever you think about it. “I think…I could be in love with you,” you mouth, no sound coming out of your mouth. “Please don’t let me down.” It feels like a prayer to him, as well as the gods above that this isn’t some ruse to make you bear a child for his wife or worse… just a terrible joke to make him feel powerful? Important and desired? Marcus sleeps peacefully through your supplications, and you’re thankful because even though you have doubt in your heart about his feelings and plans; you just want him to sleep. Despite everything, you need him to know that this place in bed next to you is calm and quiet. It’s safe here with you. Whatever you feel for Marcus is strong- whether it’s love, or infatuation, or a desperation to feel desired, it’s there and without much you can do about it, that feeling swells inside of you. Even though you wish it wouldn’t. Looking down at him– his normally neatly styled hair was wild and unkempt from the numerous times you had it between your fingers. You were pulling and tugging on it as he licked, sucked and fucked you into countless orgasms throughout the night. You brush a stray curl away from his forehead gently but his hand flies to your wrist and grips it tightly. As his eyes open and he sees it’s only you and not an enemy, his fingers loosen, and he brings the sensitive skin of your inner wrist to his lips. “Luna Flora…you should know better… than to disturb a… soldier in his sleep,” he murmurs sleepily through soft kisses against your pulse point. You gasp, startled by his sudden alertness. Positive he can hear the sound of your heartbeat, as well as feel it on his lips, you whisper, "I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you." He’s looking at you with such deep concentration with his perfect brown eyes, that it steals the breath from your lungs. "Don’t be," he yawns and stretches his body until he’s quivering before wrapping you up in his arms, tugging your body back into his. “Never be sorry. I would always choose to spend time with you awake, over the time I spend with you in my dreams.”

Then a guard came, threw this eerily familiar white and gold tunic at you, told to change and then forced up the seemingly endless set of stairs.

“Bring in The Golden Girl!”

That name, the way it’s said, the way Hanno is looking at you is telling you that this isn’t a normal fight.

The announcer continues, “She’s someone very special to someone in the crowd. I wonder who could know this beautiful bird?”

The more the voice from the pit speaks, the more you feel like your knees might buckle. Beautiful bird-- like a Dove? What on earth is he saying?

Everything else falls as Hanno closes the space between the two of you, putting himself between you and the only open tunnel. All the others have an iron gate keeping you trapped inside.

“What’s happening?” Your voice is hoarse. It feels like your mouth is full of the same sand you’re standing in.

Hanno doesn’t turn to look at you, but he reaches for you blindly, finding your forearm and pushing you further behind him to shield you with his body.“Stay behind me the entire time. Do. Not. Run.”

“What do you mean, run?” Your heart, which was already threatening to hammer its way out from behind your ribcage- starts beating faster somehow. “What would I run from?”

The terrible thoughts begin to race through your head at what could be lurking in that dark tunnel. The seconds tick by so slowly and all the sounds inside the arena blend into one. You can’t even make out the announcer anymore over the roar of the crowd- but you had stopped listening because his words were confusing, and for some reason they hurt.

A real physical pain that you could pinpoint. It hurts in your chest– because those names were things The Traitor called you, and it’s impossible to think that he sold you into this. He went and told the twin Emperors his names for you! It makes you feel foolish to think at one point you thought they were sweet, but in all seriousness, they turned out to be cruel, his little endearments for you.

You could cry right here in the pit, knowing you were probably going to die violently and in front of so many people.

“Dove…”

What!? That voice!? The Traitor?

You reel around, now face to face with Marcus and his traitorous handsomeness. It’s so hard to not feel like you’re melting. Barefoot in the scorching sand that burns, and the sun that hasn’t stopped fucking beating down on you since you walked out here. And now, under his gaze– you feel like it’s all slipping away from you.

“What are you doing here? How–” That’s all he says before you’re being pushed behind him, now shielded by both men as a sound cuts through the crowd.

Blood curdling, a deep bellowing call that reverberates off the walls of the tunnel as the beast makes its way into the pit.

It’s the biggest thing you’ve ever seen- and you lived on a farm with horses and cows. Bulls, too! It’s a bear, big and brown with matted fur. Mangled by fights that it had emerged victorious from. Now it stands at the mouth of that darkened tunnel and all you want to do is hide. You look for an escape but there is none.

At the mercy of Marcus and Hanno, and the gods above once again, you plant you feet into the sand and pray that nothing bad happens to you.

If it does, let it be quick.

The stones that build up the Colosseum are hot against your back. It's where you've been since the fight started. Marcus kept himself between you and the bear the entire fight, but eventually you got pushed aside and crawled to the perimeter of the arena.

Marcus pulls his sword from the bear's neck with a loud, wet squelch, his chest heaving. Hanno- bloodied and bruised, drops to his knees beside the animals lifeless form. They won, but not without their own injuries.

Marcus's head wheels around the arena, and stops when his eyes meet yours. With his sword still clutched tightly in his hand, he runs to you where you're crouched against the wall.

It's like it's happening in slow motion as he pulls you to your feet, his strong, eyes roaming every inch of you. His hands begin frantically searching your body as he pulls you into his chest, "Are you wounded? Did anything—"

There had been rage inside of you before, but not like this. "Get off of me!" You growl and attempt to push yourself away from him, but he doesn't budge.

One of his bloody hands cups your face, wiping the dirt and sand away from your face, exposing the black eye and the laceration on your cheek—given to you by the Emperors as a parting gift before being sent to the dungeons.

The cut stings when he touches it, and you wince and pull away from him. "Get off me!" You hiss, hands still pushing firmly on his chest.

"Who did that to you?" Marcus growls , his eyes scanning the arena looking for the culprit.

"The men you sold me to!" You nearly scream at him. A hush falls over the crowd. "Did you think the twins would accept 'no' from their newest pet?"

Marcus's eyes darken, and his jaw flexes as he grinds his teeth. "I never sold you." His eyes fall on the imperial box. "You're no one's pet."

You follow his gaze, and look up at the Emperors, and the man who sold you to them.

And one of your trusted chambermaids sitting beside him, holding his hand, smiling down at you like she did something special.

"I'll kill her," you spit, eyes narrowing on the woman you would have, at one time, considered a friend. "Traitor. I'll fucking kill her."

Marcus places one hand on your chest and pushes you behind him once again, shielding you from the eyes of those standing above you.

Caracalla, the brat- the whiny and entitled one that wanted to watch you flayed for refusing his pus-oozing cock. “Kill her –  kill the whore!” he shouts. “Barbarian, pick up your sword! I want to see her blood spilled on the sand!”

Hanno, who is still kneeling beside the dead beast, drops his weapon. “I would die before I follow another demand of a false emperor—I will not harm her!" He shouts up to them, the crowd roars at his defiance.

Geta holds up a hand for silence, “I’m not as impetuous as my brother— the beast had its chance, and it was the will of the gods that the whore should live. But, as she is yet unclaimed, she –”

“She is mine!” Marcus’s voice snaps through the air. A shocked murmur rolls through the crowd, and Geta’s face tenses into a mask of barely contained fury. “You call her a whore, but for all your money and power she wouldn’t even allow you a taste, because she is mine.”

You are still clinging to his back, and with the echo of his last three words you feel a fire ignite in your veins. You are his. He had never abandoned you.

Those men in that box lied to you, tried to take you from Marcus, and then tried to taint your body with their touch.

Now you want them humiliated.

“Take me, Marcus. Right now,” your hoarse whisper reaches his ear. "Let them watch."

He looks down and meets your eyes just long enough for you to see the dark determination mirroring your emotions. Your lips crash together hungrily in a kiss of tongues and teeth. You nip desperately at his lower lip before he pulls away, his hand holding you by the back of your neck.

“On your knees, my Dove” he growls into your mouth.

At the sound of Marcus’s words, the liquid heat pools low in your belly and seeps to your core. You turn to face the podium and drop to your knees. You feel him lower himself behind you, his thick, muscular thighs bracketing your own, his sword discarded in the sand next to you.

One broad hand grips the scruff of your neck and pushes you forward, the other is dragging up the skirt of your gown. “See how she gives herself to me,” Marcus grunts loudly as two of his fingers notch themselves at your dripping entrance. “See how she’s ready and waiting for me?”

The tips of his digits trace along the slick velvet of your folds before slipping them inside of you, pumping them in and out, gathering your excitement. He withdraws his fingers and holds them up towards the imperial box, spreading them so the audience can see your sticky arousal clinging to, and strung out between them.

Gasps ripple through the crowd, a mixture of shock and intrigue. You can hear laughter mingling with the disdainful whispers, but all eyes are locked on you.

“This,” Marcus declares, “is yours to witness, Emperors. This is the fire that burns in her belly, for me alone.” He reaches around to grip your chin in his hand, forcing your head up to meet their gaze. “Let them look at you, let them see your face.” he growls quietly, his breath hot against your ear.

“Look at her,” Marcus growls with a possessiveness that vibrates through your being. “Look at how she craves me.” His fingers return, but this time not to tease; this time they plunge deeper.

A moan is torn from your throat loudly as his fingers stretch you open. It’s been so long since he’s been inside of you, it’s like the first time all over again. You arch your back, pushing against him as he quickens his pace.

Laughter erupts from the imperial box, Caracalla’s voice cutting through the noise, “Look at her! The whore— with such pathetic displays of pleasure! Whore!” His words drip with disgust, but they only fuel the fire inside you.

Anger curls around your spine and you push harder against the next thrust of Marcus’s fingers, forcing another moan from your mouth.

Geta’s voice rises, his expression tight. “You truly wish to save her? She is nothing but an animal-” 

“She is no animal - but she has a beast to defend her.”

You gasp as you feel Marcus rub the tip of his cock along your slit. He circles your clit once, twice, three times before he’s positioning himself at your tight hole. 

Without warning, without any gentle words, he bottoms out inside of you. It feels like your eyes are going to fall out of your head, your teeth almost slice through your bottom lip as the searing stretch surges through your entire body- from your hair to your toes. 

A cry cursing all the gods, the Emperors before you, and the Emperors yet to rule falls out of your mouth as Marcus sets a bruising pace. 

“You see how she lets me claim her?” Marcus pumps his length in and out of you harshly, his thighs slapping against the back of your legs, his free hand gripping your waist now. The hand that had been cupping your chin now finds your hair, keeping your head out of the sand and tilted up to look at the pale, pitiful men gazing down at you. 

You can’t keep quiet, and it doesn’t really seem like Marcus wants to you to the way he he’s fucking into you so brutally. You cry out, screaming his name, begging for him to slow down– whimpering for mercy, but really it’s delectable the way you stretch around his cock. The entire length of him sliding inside until his drooling tip grazes your cervix. It’s jolting, and has you seeing stars shoot across your vision.

In the background, mixed in with the rest of the noise, the announcer says something about the way Marcus is taking you, it’s muffled by the pleasure coursing through you.

Marcus came down here to fight for you, to keep you safe. He did care and he didn’t want to lose you and watching him defend you—

That’s why you were dripping before the bear was even dead. Watching Marcus in action, fighting to keep you alive– as furious as you were at him – had ignited a fire inside you. 

That flame was engulfing your entire body now as he led you to an orgasm in front of what felt like the entire world.

Marcus grips your hair tighter as he slams himself inside of you over and over. Every single fiber of you can feel Marcus as your walls flutter around him. “Sucking me right in,” he growls. “Taking me so fucking well. Tell them who you belong to,” Marcus barks at you, the hand on your waist connects with the fleshy globe of your ass with a loud crack that cuts through the air. 

“M-Marcus– oh gods, Marcus! You, I b-belong to you” You keen loudly, trying so hard to keep your eyes open so you can stare at the men who tried to turn you against the man inside of you now. “I’m yours… forever.”

It’s just a throaty cry of his name as the defined ridge around the head, and each inch of his throbbing length that follows strike and then glides across that sweet spot inside of you. It’s bliss as you come undone on him, feeling like you’re being torn in two; and then three, and then put back together again by his cock. 

“That’s it, my perfect girl,” Marcus grunts in a throaty rasp that makes your toes curl.

“Silence that whore!” Caracalla screams in his high-pitched crying tone. “Where are the Praetorian guards!? They’ll have something to stuff her mouth with—”

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Hanno stand with his weapon clenched in his fist. “Any man that comes down here has to fight me first,” he declares, the blade gleaming in the sun.

The announcer starts to speak, but Marcus reaches for his sword in the sand, pointing the blade up towards the podium.

"One more word and I'll take your fucking tongue." Marcus bellows.

The threat silences the announcer, but the crowd's roar only grows louder. You can barely focus on anything beyond the sensations coursing through your body as Marcus continues to thrust into you relentlessly.

Marcus drops his sword, his other hand leaves your hair to wrap his arm around your waist. He starts working on the fasteners of your gown at the shoulders. “They’ll see all of you—everything they can’t fucking have,” he’s growling, nipping at your earlobe as his fingers frantically start pulling at the fabric covering your chest. “They’ll never have you. You're mine."

He does own you, and it's the most exhilarating feeling in the world. The undeniable connection between you is only heightened by his rough handling of your body; as if he owns every part of it without hesitation or reservation.

His hand grips your breast tightly, his thumb circling your nipple, which has already hardened.

"You like this, don't you?" Marcus growls against your neck. “Like being on display for everyone?”

You groan in agreement, arching your back into his touch. "Yes," you moan, clenching your eyes shut as he hammers his hips into yours. “Tell them, my love–tell them how they'll never touch me again!”

Marcus's free hand grips your hip, pulling you closer, and his other hand He pulls back and looks up towards the imperial box, “No one will touch my Dove again. Anyone who tries will be torn apart without hesitation.”

You force your eyes open, meeting the shocked and furious gazes of the Emperors. You bite your bottom lip, eyes rolling back in your head like you’re possessed at the bliss, at all the good feelings Marcus gives you.

There is a commotion, the brothers command something of their guards but Marcus's booming voice quickly catches their attention again. “You make so much as one move, and you will die where you stand.”

To punctuate his point, Hanno gives the blade in his hand a twirl, pacing back and forth between the seats of the Emperors, and yourself and Marcus.

A defiant smirk tugs at your lips. Your fragile alliance with Hanno had paid off and now he was protecting you and Marcus in this erotic display of defiance. You lean back against Marcus's strong chest, your hands feverishly searching for something to hold onto as your sweat drips down between your breasts.

Marcus runs his tongue along your shoulder, up towards your neck. "That's it, my golden girl," He growls in your ear. “Show them "

Your body trembles, every nerve alight with pleasure as he claims you in front of the entire arena.

He pulls out of you suddenly, leaving you bereft and gaping— but before you can grasp what’s happening, he’s on his feet, moving beside you with his hands in your hair turning you to face him.

Marcus stands before you, his muscular body glistening with sweat in the harsh sunlight. His cock, slick with your arousal, juts out proudly as he grips your hair tightly.

"Open your mouth," he commands, his voice hoarse with lust.

You obey without hesitation, parting your lips as he guides himself to your waiting mouth. The salty taste of yourself on his length makes you moan as he pushes past your lips. Your tongue swirls around his shaft, savoring the combined flavors of yours and his

"Look at her," Marcus calls out, his voice rough. "See how she serves me willingly. This is what true devotion looks like." 

You hollow your cheeks as he pushes deeper. Tears prick at the corners of your eyes when he hits the back of your throat, but you fight through – determined to please him. Your hands grasp his muscular thighs for support as he sets a punishing pace.

Marcus throws his head back, chest heaving as he nears his peak. "Gods, you're perfect," he pants. "My beautiful dove."

He leaves your throat with a sickeningly arousing wet sucking sound, one hand stays in your hair as the other wraps around his throbbing cock.

Marcus strokes himself rapidly, his eyes locked on yours as he pants, "Open up. Show them who you belong to."

You obey eagerly, tilting your head back and parting your lips. Your tongue darts out, desperate for a taste of him. 

You moan when his seed coats your lips and chin, some of it dripping down onto your exposed breasts – marking you. You savor what landed in your mouth, swallowing as you gaze up at him adoringly.

Marcus releases your hair, his hand moving to cup your cheek tenderly. His thumb brushes across your lower lip, smearing his release further. "Beautiful," he murmurs, his eyes filled with a mix of lust and something deeper - perhaps love.

The crowd's roar grows deafening, a mix of shocked gasps and lustful cheers. You can barely make out the Emperors' enraged shouts over the din. None of it matters - your entire world has narrowed to the man before you.

Hanno clears his throat softly, breaking the silence. "I believe it's time you take your leave, girl," he says quietly, eyes darting between you, Marcus, and the imperial box.“Go home to your farm?” He whispers.

The Emperors seem to recover from their shock, Caracalla's face contorted with rage. "Seize them!" he shrieks, but his guards hesitate, wary of challenging the legendary general.

Marcus turns to Hanno. "Are you with us?"

Hanno twirls his sword, "I've just been waiting for a chance to escape this hellhole. I'm with you."

Marcus nods, then turns back to you. "We need to move fast," he says urgently, pulling you to your feet. “Lucilla has already left to find refuge in the ships.” He grips your hand tightly as he surveys the arena. 

The Emperors continue shouting orders, their guards now following their command, starting to close in on the three of you.

"We have to go – now!" Marcus shouts. “Barbarian, can you clear us a path?"

Hanno nods, a wild grin spreading across his face. "With pleasure."

tag list: @gothcsz @almostempty @joelmillerisapunk @untamedheart81 @lilac-boo

(tell me to add you or take you off or to go eat bricks!!)

big thanks to @creepycorbeaux for basically co-writing this chapter with me. I needed her.

and thanks @mrsmando for my beautiful mood board (it took me so long to finish this chapter because I would just stare at how perfect this fits their story)

[pad-wubbo]

My biggest Splatoon OC thing yet; it's a full weird-sea-people-band!

MOUTHWASH FOR WHALES (クジラ用のうがい薬)

* Post-punk / Krautrock band.

* Best known for their singles "Polyp Anna", "Inkopolis I Love You But You're Sinking Me" and "Crispy Scales".

* Their music is far too weird to get any Turf War play.

* Consists of vocalist Ella, drummer Manuel, guitarist O'Carroll, keyboardist Tharassa and sound engineer Stahli.

ELLA (エラ)

* Salmonid (oversized Smallfry).

* Her birth name is The Lustful Bleeding Axe of Ikejime Rock (生首岩の好色な出血斧).

* Screams more than sings.

* Stopped participating in Big Runs after eating a terrified Inkling boy in his home.

* Is considered a sellout in Salmonid society for refusing to fight and die.

* That's hair dye dripping down her face.

* Vegan hippie, has a bedroom full of rose quartz.

MANUEL (マヌエル)

* Portuguese man-o'-war.

* Fascinated with the history of telegraphy.

* A bit of an airhead.

* Talks to his zooids for advice.

O'CARROLL (オキャロル)

* Octocoral.

* Tired of people assuming he has something do with the Octarians.

* Stylises himself as a badass, but really rather spineless.

* Loves younger men.

* People have often mistaken him for a Christmas tree.

THARASSA (ヴェラ)

* Moon wrasse.

* Thinks of themselves as "punk", but actually comes from a wealthy family of caviar farmers.

* Smokes a lot.

* Wishes people would stop calling them a girl.

* Afraid of the ocean.

STAHLI (スタリ)

* Mutant algal bloom.

* Came into existence quite recently.

* Born from algae exposed to radioactive Salmonid poop.

* A theologer in his spare time.

* Gets claustrophobic very easily.

I've even made an album cover.

This took me hours, but it was totally worth it. Worse ways to spend my life, I suppose.

The whole band is CC-BY-SA 4.0, feel free to use them anywhere you like!

[artbyblastweave]

Re: WW84 and Maxwell Lord

What didn't you like about how that movie did the character, and what do you view as the essential parts of the character?

So, I've gotta lead with the caveat that my understanding of Lord's character arc in the comics is informed by a very scattershot sampling of comics from across his publication history, acquired piecemeal via thrift stores and inheritance. I'm not the world's foremost Maxwell Lord Understander.

With that out of the way, my understanding of the shape of his character arc is that he was a originally well-meaning but morally-flexible Trump pastiche who was bank-rolling the Justice League during a nadir in their perceived legitimacy, before an eventual pivot to antagonist status after a retcon that he had become disillusioned with superhumanity during his stint with the League and had been maneuvering to purge them for some time. Or something. Eventually he escalated in the threat he posed until Wonder Woman wound up snapping his neck on live television because he'd established irrevocable mind control over Superman through years of subtle psychic conditioning. Or something. My understanding is that how well this pivot and the attendant retcons were executed is up for debate.

But, regardless of your judgement of how it was actually executed, the idea of the League falling in with a snake in the grass during a lean season and not noticing the threat he poses until it's too late- or that threat not even coming to exist without the snake's inside access to, and experience with, the League- is a really rich one, pulling the angels down to earth and forcing them to interface with questions of Money and Marketing and how that can backfire on you and your lofty ideals. The idea of the funny 80s tycoon gradually swelling in threat in the background over the course of out-of-universe years until he's in a position to fuck the entire planet is an idea that has some resonance for. Reasons. The fallout of an A-list superheroine having to put him down on live television because he's working Superman like a muppet could be really interesting. Basically you can point to any iteration of Lord, describe to me his role in the universe at any given point in his publication history, and it would sound cooler to me, more embedded in the world and the worldbuilding, than the WW1984 version, where he was an 80s Fantasy-Comedy Protagonist who Needs to Learn An Important Lesson About The Value Of Family, haphazardly stapled to a superhero plot. And it was, I don't know, fine. No better or worse than the movie it was embedded in (not very good). But there wasn't a lot of room to take that implementation of the character anywhere. You can't retool him as a Machiavellian manipulator executing heroes gangland style once he's Learned About Family. He did his thing, he's done.

Anyway, the upcoming version seems, at a glance, like it's synergizing a lot of the ideas I like about the character in a way that aligns with Gunn's worldbuilding sensibilities. This is a guy who's rich but not Lex Luthor rich. This is a guy who's throwing his weight around to get in a say in the superhero game but his sponsored team is a bunch of second-stringers, he doesn't have Vought-levels of corporate monopoly over the space. This guy is an aspirant player in an established field, a guy who could break in a bunch of interesting directions from the opening status quo (or just die in his first appearance like a chump, who knows.) This is a kind of public figure who would plausibly exist- if superheroes were quotidian enough that they're back to being just another kind of job, how many real life overly online businessmen do we know that'd jump to scoop a handful up as corporate mascots?

[solidaritygaming-fanblog]

NEEED MORE from the liml jimmy and esmp joel au omgomgggg

heeheheheheh alright here u go... also im calling this au officially Tick of the Hourglass (until I find a better name). So welcome to the world baby tothau

LIML! JIMMY AND ESMP! JOEL:

I don't have much for them sadly. I think L!Jimmy is the happiest out of all the main cast, specifically because he buckles down and stays optimistic. He does have a couple moments where he breaks down, but he's able to recover. I can't decide wether or not for him to remember his final death, and to what degree (memories getting hazy and unrelaiable the closer to his death, clear up until the moment of impact, remembering tripping or going up there and nothing else). E!Joel is in a weird position- here's someone who looks like one of his friends, walks, talks, acts exactly like him- but isn't this worlds version of him. He is trying to find out how to get L!Jimmy back to his home, but at the same time want's him to stay. E!Jimmy lowkey hates him, and has been missing for a while (two weeks when L!Jimmy appears). This version of Jimmy is nice to him (like his version used to be) and loves his empire, and he feels guilty. He purposefully hinders himself from making progress on finding L!Jimmy a way home just so they can be together longer. He hides the existance of Tumble Town and the whole toy joke from L!Jimmy, and acitverly threatens anyone who trys to bring it up.

Ultimately, L!Jimmy finds one of the old dolls, and remarks on it looking like him. There's a bit of confrontation before Joel breaks down and tells him everything about E!Jimmy- the toy stuff, Tumble Town, how he's been missing. L!Jimmy is shocked, but after getting over, he immediately begins instructing E!Joel on how to repair their relationship once E!Jimmy is found/returns. Maybe E!Joel even takes L!Jimmy on a trip to Tumble Town (with copious amounts of disguising of course, the two Jimmy's look nearly identical which helps nothing) so he can understand E!Jimmy more.

ESMP! JIMMY AND LIML! JOEL:

Oh god. I can't even communicate the thoughts I have about them with words. Okay lets try

Both of them are extremely secretive about their pasts. All E!Jimmy knows is that L!Joel looks incredibly different (different eye color and streak color, different styles, different height) and that something happened to his Jimmy. Something maybe bad (doesn't know all the details) that made him burst out sobbing and tackle E!Jimmy into a hug when they first recovered from being tossed into the Twixt (what i'm calling the vanilla world they got marooned). And all L!Joel knows about E!Jimmy is that hes jumpy and very obivously traumatized. He doesn't like taking of his jacket (hiding any seams or articulated limbs) and has mentioned (a few times) someone or someones who made his life a living hell.

Eventually, after going on a rampage when E!Jimmy dies in front of him, E!Jimmy tells L!Joel that he want's to help him but can't if he doesn't know what happened. So L!Joel tells him all about Limited Life. Like everything. Even seeing L!Jimmy die and going crazy. E!Jimmy is shocked, but glad L!Joel told him, and actually avoids a few behavoirs after this (IE STANDING NEAR LARGE DROPS. JOEL'S HEAD NEARLY EXPLODED A FEW TIMES FROM STRESS)

It takes a couple days, but E!Jimmy (while checking some of L!Joel's wounds) finally tells him about Empires. He's really vague at first, just an overview like "oh, yeah, i got bullied and my body was literally transformed against my will", but L!Joel gets him cornered (idk in which way. physical or metaphoricaly) and makes him say everything. And boy does he say EVERYTHING. He breaks down sobbing (because no ones shown this level of caring for him in a bit) and tells him all about the toy stuff and his relationship with E!Joel. How he just wanted to be close to him and hoped that if he took the jokes, it would make them friends, but instead E!Joel just kept hurting him, and he couldn't ever fight back.

Long story short L!Joel gives multiple run downs to E!Jimmy on how to stand his ground and clearly draw his boundires. They're each others rock, each others constant only thing. It's incredibly adorable.

Woah that took me nearly an hour! I'm going to go make ramen and dumplings (its 1:30 am in my time zone rn). I hope this is enough lmao

[vaultedoverthehorse]

“Curly, this is really dumb.” The little nine year old stood looking up at his older friend, who was attempting to climb up a telephone pole. The friend in question looked down with a confident smile.

“I’ve got this, Ponyboy. I’m halfway there already!” Curly hoisted himself up higher on the pole. This whole ordeal would’ve already been stupid, had it not rained the night before. In the early morning, the pole was slicker than it should be.

“Curly, I really think you should get down.” Always the over thinker, Pony was terrified his friend would bust his head and die if he fell. But at the same time, he was Curly Shepard, the tuff ten-year old who was already getting into fights and winning. He could get hurt.

Pony was about to be proven wrong. “C’mon, Ponybaby, don’t worry-“ Curly’s had slipped, and he couldn’t catch himself before he fell down and landed hard on the soggy grass. The dull thud made Pony slightly queasy. He just stared for a moment, completely terrified.

“Curly, are you dead?” He asked quietly, his voice squeaky.

Curly sat up, his face pale. His eyes were wide with pain, and he looked like he was trying not to cry. That’s bad, Pony thought. Shepards never cried. Was the world ending?

“I-I’m not dead,” he said quietly. Pony was even more terrified by how he was holding himself. Curly was always overconfident, risky, and excited. Now he just looked defeated. “I just - hurt my arm. It’s not a big deal, I’m - I’ve had worse.” He had not had worse. His voice sounded sad, like he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying.

Pony took a glance at his arm and instantly regretted it. Were arms supposed to bend that way? He didn’t think so. Maybe they could, he was only nine and he hadn’t seen much. But if they were supposed to bend that way, Curly wouldn’t be crying.

“Um…I’m gonna go get Darry.” That’s the only thing Pony could think of doing right now. His parents were at work, and Soda was running around with Keith and Steve. Plus, Darry plays football. He knows what to do with injuries.

Pony ran as fast as he could to the Curtis home. Luckily he’s always been a good runner, able to outrun Soda by a mile. He banged through the front door, finding a, annoyed Darry doing homework at the kitchen table.

“What, Pony?” But the sick look on his little brother’s face made his annoyance shift to concern. “What happened?”

“Curly’s arm is facing the wrong way.” Pony ranted out the whole story, barely stopping to breathe.

Darry groaned, heading for his jacket. “You kids are gonna be the death of me…Tim needs to get his brother under control.” He rubbed a hand down his face, then pointed to Pony. “You call Tim, I’ll go get the troublemaker.”

A week later, Curly walked around school, telling some tale of how he’d gotten his arm broken by three senior Socs but he managed to fight them off one-handed. Pony rolled his eyes. He would’ve been telling everyone the whole story, had Curly not let him draw something small on his cast as payment. The real story only existed between Pony, Curly, Darry, and an extremely drunk Tim. And Curly got to carry around a drawing of a horse for six weeks.

[sonicexelle-junkary]

why in your stories that follow the canon shadow never kill he made a promise to Maria that he protect the world but he never take out sonic who is a danger to people and shadow has all ready done worse to do duty and if he could kill sonic he doesn’t alarm the population letting sonic do chaos.

you said in one of you responses that you don’t want Romance to be the focus be you intentionally made it the focus by making sonic and shadow the focus and the only character that matters(tails is a accessory to sonic who only exists to die, doesn’t warn the population because he cares for sonic which makes him selfish putting his care for sonic before others and the others are barely shown) so it the sonadow show

I’m guessing this is about HungryHero, so I’ll explain it as it is.

Just because it FOLLOWS cannon, doesn’t mean it IS cannon. I do like to keep my stories as close as possible, but that’s just personal preference.

I have made mistakes in my writing, yes. But sometimes it’s also creative liberties. Despite knowing what his brother was doing, Tails was still reluctant to call the police on his own brother. He wants him to get help, and the police could make things worse. Also according to SA2, Sonic is incredibly hard to catch or stay in containment anyways (even if he did eventually get captured).

Plus I think it’s widely stated by now that Shadow doesn’t like G. U. N. despite working with them on a few occasions. So I doubt he would inform them on the situation. Plus, he knows Sonic isn’t in a good mental state anyways, so he would want him to get some help.

Now why didn’t he just try to stop him from the beginning? Well, aside from if he did, the story would be boring and short, and that’s no fun. But he also had Tails to worry about, and at the moment, he didn’t know if Sonic would actually try and murder his brother, so he wanted to get him out as soon as possible. It is a little out of character for him, but I like it when Shadow does care about the people he knows, at least just a little bit. Also again, He could tell Sonic wasn’t mentally well, so he allowed Tails to try and help him, even if he was a little too crazy at the start of his cannibalistic journey.

I have made mistakes in my writing, don’t get me wrong. Like how Shadow just left Sonic alone at the end of act 1. Shadow was going to express a lot more emotion then, but I eventually decided against it for something more favourable in the long run.

But even so, again— there are these things called CREATIVE LIBERTIES. Even when my stories follow cannon, they aren’t direct copies of their cannon selves. That’s what an AU is, you know?

[namebrandpessimist]

THSI IS WHAT IVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT

This stupid ass group of weird psychos seemed to be such a central part of the history of the universe, but eventually they were just gone. 10 millenia is a long time to keep history records, and so I wonder in 10 more if anyone will even know they existed.

I especially love the ideas of the moments right before their deaths. Like they're these beings that have existed far longer than anything ever should, by the end we know so many of them were miserable.

Especially thinking of Jonny, who with nothing left, just lived out his days seeking any last inkling of pleasure. And to think of him feeling himself finally dying, and laughing for the first time in a millenia. This man was so miserable he had not laughed in 1000 years. I genuinely cannot imagine the relief he felt to know it was going to end.

But I don't think all of them were like that. Brian and Tim anticipated their deaths, and so I imagine they felt a lot of conflicting feelings. Brian was very mournful I imagine, while Tim went out in a joyous (or probably manic) blaze of glory.

Idk if Ivy was expecting to die, but certainly seemed to have some kind of desperation in the end.

I doubt marius even had time to be like "Oh shit" which honestly kinda sucks for him

Ashes was quite smug about the whole thing, it would seem, but i still think they had a moment of mourning when they realized they were at the literal end of the universe.

Raphaella honestly seems kinda chill about it, but I think she reached much the same conclusion as Jonny, wherein she had nothing left to experience, so she decided to feel something no one ever had.

And the toy soldier... fucking christ.. I mean it's can't even put it into words

So, I've been thinking about how much I love Death To The Mechanisms (Both the album and song, but particularly the song) I love how the instrumental under each death sounds different. Gunpowder Tims sounds more dramatic (I'm not sure if that would be the right word) and takes on the style kind of like the Bifrost Incident and how Marius' sounds like High Noon Over Camelot. Brian's has Lost in the Cosmos underneath it, which is just so perfect and so sad because it's both his past and his death. I love how there are two kind of categories for how they die, either a purposeful death that they did themselves or some small accident. Like Gunpowder Tim knew he was dying so he went on a rampage to possibly go out in a big explosion of infamy, but what took him out was not wearing a seat belt, because why would he wear a seat belt? He's survived ship crashes and much worse before, why would that be the thing that finally did him in? And Johnny dies in some probably completely avoidable bar fight. Imagine finding out the "immortal" that became such a big part of all your history was found dead from a simple stab in the heart.

That is if they even found most of their bodies. Brian's might have been found by a wandering ship, kept around as a interesting trinket they found, maybe never finding his heart and knowing he once lived. Nobody probably bothered to check the ship wreckage for Tim's corpse, they would probably just glad the mad man blowing everything up was dead. There is no way in hell anyone found Raphaella body. Ivy's body was probably discovered by explorers who wanted to check out the long burned library (and possibly find more interesting books than what she had saved) and found a long chared skeleton that became a museum peice for a short while due to its odd brain and several long gone items that appeared to be talisman or memorabilia of some kind, some say that one looked like a small violin or wings or metal playing cards, but nobody will ever know for sure. Johnny's body was probably quickly stripped of valuables and left to rot, or maybe they burned him to make sure that he wasn't as immortal as he claimed during the fight. Nothing was left to find of Marius. No one was left to find Ashes. Finding a wooden puppet on a empty planet was interesting to be sure, but nothing ground breaking, it didn't move and was hollow except for some rotting tissue in its throat, it's face looked oddly sad but it was probably just a discarded art project and was left to collect dust until the star nearest to its resting place took everything out. Some conspiracy theories might pop up about the crew, but eventually, enough time will pass that it doesn't really matter if immortals ever existed and any traces of them will be lost to time as well. Any history books mentioning things like The Moon Kaiser, New Texas, King Cole, or a crew of immortal psychos causing trouble or singing about war will rot or burn or just become uninteresting to everyone else.

[shrimpschips]

Continually baffled by the complete dearth of official black sails merch. Like spartacus had multiple novelizations and a video game, but Starz couldn't even be bothered to make fucking tshirt for black sails