#It's often done SO poorly and just ruins them.

[girlypopinspos]

My issue with this in fiction is:

I've seen it ruin great villains and turn them boring as can be.

It's often done in a completely unnatural and unrealistic way.

When it happens, it's usually babying the character even if they're just a horrible person.

Example: Harley Quinn from DC Comics. She has been warpped into a completely different character, into Female Deadpool, just to appease people who didn't even like her in the first place. Suddenly, she's an anti-hero, or an outright here, when she always been a selfish and sadistic person. Suddenly, she was never evil, just a Poor Woman Ruined by an Evil Man, uwu. And all of this is just purely Benevolent Misogyny.

However, a Good Example: Emma Frost from Marvel comics. She was a villain, but not a complete sadist like Harley was. Her change into a better person felt natural. And her change was done sooner into her existence than Harley's was, so it didn't feel ridiculous. It also wasn't done to appease certain people, it was just her character progression.

Also, Villain Redemption is often done when that character becomes popular, which just shows how Puritan and weak TPTB are.

So yes, a character "becoming a better person" IS a bad thing if it's done poorly and/or done for the worng reasons.

the concept and idea of “you can always start trying to be a better person” is extremely important to me both in media and irl and i continue to be deeply deeply disturbed by the trend on this site pushing that these ideas in media are bad writing or even morally reprehensible

because theyd rather someone stay terrible or just straight up die than become a better person 

from a compassionate point of view it’s deeply distressing and from a pragmatic point of view it’s outright frustrating

it’s fucked up. 

[writingfics-passingtime]

hi, can you please write about the reader overthinking decorating a pumpkin and loki threatens to tickle them if they don't start it 🤗🤗

I can still post pumpkin content cause it's still November, right?

Here's a sassy, stoic reader, an absolute teasing menace Loki, and a tender, emotional ending (because I can't help myself).

Exactly Like That

word count: ~4300

pairing: Loki x female reader

content / warnings: sexual tension, suggestive banter, flirting and touching, tickling, swearing

minors dni: this work does not contain smut, but does contain a suggestive relationship between the reader and an adult-aged character. I am not comfortable with engagement from anyone under the age of 18. Thank you for your understanding and respect.

note: thank you anon ~ I wasn't going to respond yet because my prompts aren't open, but I've seen a few other writers receive and fulfil this ask, and I've liked seeing what other have done with it. My imagination went a little wild. Thanks for your message x

The room was alive with voices, clinking bottles, and the occasional scrape of a knife against pumpkin flesh. The compound’s main dining hall had been transformed into an unlikely tableau of domesticity. Avengers, gods, and spies bent over their assigned gourds with varying levels of skill and enthusiasm. Stark’s pumpkin already looked like a disaster of glitter and questionable wiring, while Natasha’s had been carved into a clean, menacing grin, a masterpiece of precision.

And then there was you.

Your pumpkin sat pristine and untouched in front of you, its smooth surface mocking your indecision. Brushes, carving tools, and paints were scattered around your space, all conspicuously unused. You held a small knife in your hand, twirling it absently as you stared at the blank canvas.

“Do mortals often find themselves defeated by vegetables, or is this particular weakness unique to you?”

Loki's voice slid over you like velvet, dark and rich, tinged with mockery.

You didn’t look up. “It’s a fruit, actually.”

“Ah,” he drawled, moving closer. “Semantics. How very like you.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw him lean against the edge of the table, his long, lean frame clothed in casual, dark fabrics that clung just enough to remind you that he wasn’t of your world. His sharp blue eyes sparkled with amusement as he surveyed your untouched pumpkin.

“You’ve been staring at it for nearly an hour,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “Surely even you can’t find this much to overthink.”

You exhaled sharply, finally meeting his gaze. “Maybe I’m waiting for inspiration.”

“Or perhaps you’re simply afraid to begin.” His lips curved into a slow, knowing smirk, the kind that made your pulse stumble. “One wrong cut, one poorly chosen stroke, and the whole thing could be ruined. What a tragic metaphor for your careful, overthought life.”

“Thanks for the analysis, Freud,” you said dryly, turning your attention back to the pumpkin. “Now, if you’re done, I have work to do.”

“Work?” His laugh was quiet, mocking. He moved closer, the faint rustle of his clothing brushing against your senses like a whisper. “Sitting frozen with indecision isn’t work, darling. It’s fear.”

You bristled but kept your voice calm. “If you’re so invested in this pumpkin, why don’t you decorate it yourself?”

“Because I find your quandary far more entertaining.”

He stepped around behind you then, his tall frame casting a shadow over your seat. His presence loomed, a magnetic pull you both resented and couldn’t entirely resist.

“I’ll give you a choice,” he said softly, his voice close now, the faintest trace of his breath against your ear. “Either you begin decorating this ridiculous fruit, or I’ll take matters into my own hands.”

You turned slightly, meeting his eyes over your shoulder. They gleamed with dark amusement, his smirk widening as he caught the way your lips parted involuntarily. “Oh? And how exactly would you do that?”

Loki’s smirk deepened, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before returning to your eyes. “I could start with this.”

Before you could react, his fingers brushed against your sides, featherlight but enough to send a jolt through you. You stiffened, gripping the edge of the table as his touch lingered, just shy of maddening.

You twisted in your chair to glare at him. “That’s your plan? Tickle me into submission? How original.”

His chuckle was low, dark, a sound that sent a shiver up your spine. “Oh, I think it would be quite effective. And besides,” he murmured, leaning closer, “I suspect you’d secretly enjoy it.”

Your breath caught at the sheer audacity of him, the way his voice dipped into something so sultry, so intimate, that your stomach twisted. “Sounds like you're desperate for an excuse to touch me,” you shot back, your tone sharp despite the heat rising in your cheeks.

He tilted his head, his smirk softening into something more dangerous, more deliberate. “Desperate? No, darling. Just curious.”

His gaze swept over you, slow and deliberate, as if he could see straight through you to the rapid beat of your heart.

The air between you seemed to thicken, the tension coiling taut as his words hung there, daring you to respond.

Your grip on the table tightened as you forced yourself to meet his eyes, even as heat coiled low in your stomach.

It felt like gripping the steering wheel of a car spinning out, but you snapped the moment.

“You’re not as intimidating as you think you are."

Loki laughed, soft and wicked. “Of course not. And you're the picture of composure, as always."

His hand brushed against yours then, the faintest graze of his fingertips, and you swore the room tilted.

“Go on,” he urged, his voice a low murmur, his eyes locked on yours. “Prove me wrong. Pick up the brush. Start decorating. Show me you're not afraid of a little fun.”

You hesitated, your heart pounding so loudly you were certain he could hear it. The weight of his gaze, the dark amusement in his smirk, the sheer magnetic pull of him it was... intoxicating.

Finally, with a sharp exhale, you grabbed the brush. “Fine,” you said, your voice tight as you dipped it into the paint.

Loki straightened, his smirk triumphant but his eyes still glinting with wicked intent. “There’s a good girl,” he said softly, the words like a caress against your ear.

It left you burning long after he’d stepped away.

As you focused on the paint in front of you, doing your best to ignore the heat coursing through your veins, you felt the thrill of his words linger.

The brush hovered over the pumpkin, the orange, unsullied skin glaring up at you like a taunt. Loki had retreated to the far end of the room, his fingers tracing idle patterns on the edge of the table as he spoke with Thor. You knew it was only a matter of time before his attention flickered back to you, the heat of a flame too close for comfort.

You had no intention of giving him the satisfaction of seeing you squirm under his gaze any longer.

Sliding the brush down as quietly as possible, you rose from your seat. The soft scrape of your chair legs across the floor was muffled beneath the ambient chatter of the room, and Loki didn’t so much as glance your way. Your pulse quickened as you edged toward the door, heart hammering with every step.

He didn’t follow.

Once you’d slipped into the quiet of the hall, the tension in your chest eased, and you let out a breath you were very aware you'd been holding.

You made your way toward the compound’s library, the solitude of it a welcome balm. The others would still be occupied for at least another hour - enough time for you to lose yourself in the pages of your book and avoid whatever game Loki had been playing that almost made you crack.

The library greeted you with its familiar quiet, the scent of leather sofas and paper a comforting presence. You found your usual spot tucked away in a far corner, a large bay window cushioned with soft pillows overlooking the courtyard. Settling in with a contented sigh, you pulled your book from where you'd wedged it between the seat cushion and the wooden frame.

The story drew you in almost immediately, the tension of moments ago dissolving into the words on the page. The sunlight filtering through the window began softening into twilight, painting the room in hues of amber and shadow.

The quiet here was sacred, untouched by the chaos of the compound. As you turned the last few pages, your chest loosened, the illusion of safety creeping in.

Surely, he hadn’t followed you. Surely, Loki had other things to occupy himself-

Surely not.

“I expected better from you.”

The voice slithered into your ears, so low and sudden that your breath caught in your throat. With all your years of training, you managed to stay frozen. Futile, though. You knew he could see right through it.

You looked up, and there he stood, shadowed and immaculate, his silhouette framed by the dim glow of a single, golden lamp. His icy blue eyes glinted with cruel amusement, his lips curling into a smirk that made your stomach twist.

“How... predictable,” he continued, taking a slow, deliberate step forward. “You flee like a rabbit, thinking you can burrow away from the wolf.”

Your heart hammered against your ribs, but you forced yourself turn back your book. “I don’t recall fleeing,” you started, turning a page. “I walked out, actually. Perhaps you’ve forgotten the difference in your old age.”

He chuckled, the sound low and dangerous, like distant thunder rolling over jagged peaks. “Ah, there it is. That fire you wear like armour. Does it soothe you to pretend you’re unshakeable?”

You scoffed, even as your pulse betrayed you. “You’re awfully sure of yourself for someone whose only hobby seems to be tormenting me.”

“Torment?” he echoed, his voice silken as he closed more distance between you. “My dear, if I were tormenting you, you’d know it. Shall I demonstrate?”

You didn’t dignify that with a response, instead turning another page of your book. The words blurred before your eyes, but you kept your expression neutral. “If you think I’m going to feed your ego by reacting, you’re going to be sorely disappointed.”

"Why did you refuse to take part?" There was something unnervingly earnest in his voice that pulled at your heart. "Why did you leave?"

You looked up, wearing a mask of indifference and sarcasm. “I didn’t realise decorating pumpkins was a matter of state importance.”

The smirk tugging at his lips was slow and predatory, dark amusement glinting in his eyes. “Such sharp words, little rabbit. Always so quick with your tongue when your heart’s trying to claw its way out of your chest.”

Your pulse spiked, but you refused to let him see it. Instead, you tilted your head, letting a slow, sardonic smirk curve your lips. “You said you weren't desperate, Loki. But you seem to have taken to taunting me for sport."

The laugh that slipped from him was low and sinuous, curling like smoke through the still air. “Oh, I don’t need sport to occupy me. But you…” He leaned forward, the space between you vanishing in an instant. “You’re far too entertaining to resist. Especially when you’re trembling behind that mask of yours.”

“I’m not trembling.”

“No?” His voice was a purr now, his breath brushing your ear as he lowered himself just enough to meet you at eye level. “I suppose you weren’t squirming earlier, either. Like prey in my hands.”

Your cheeks flared with heat, but you kept your expression neutral. “You sound obsessed.”

“And you sound very ticklish.”

The way he said it - smooth, dark, laced with that damned smirk -sent a ripple of mortification through you. It was all the confirmation you needed of his intentions to follow through on his earlier threat.

It was inevitable.

So you leaned back, lifting your book as if to shield yourself from the weight of his gaze. If you were going down, you were going down swinging. Well, verbally, at least.

“You’re overplaying your hand.”

“Oh, am I?” He stood to his full height, towering over you now, his shadow eclipsing the faint light. “Because the ones who act so tough, so stoic, so unbothered... they’re always the most fun. It’s so very delicious to watch them fall apart.”

“Is that what you tell yourself at night?” You forced your tone into something light, dismissive, though your grip on the book tightened. “That you’ve got me figured out?”

His smirk deepened, his head tilting as he studied you like a puzzle he already knew how to solve. “I don’t need to tell myself anything. You do all the work for me.”

Your lips parted for a retort, but his eyes flickered down to the slight tremor in your fingers, the way your knees shifted restlessly against the cushions.

And you saw how his smile widened, satisfied and predatory, when he saw all the hallmarks of someone about to flee.

“Go ahead,” he murmured, voice dropping to a velvet whisper. “Run. It’ll be more fun for me.”

For a split second, you froze, torn between logic and instinct. Then you bolted, your book tumbling to the seat as you darted for the nearest gap.

But Loki was faster.

You didn't make it two full steps before he caught you with a preternatural ease, his ensnaring hands dragging you back against him in one smooth motion. His low chuckle brushed your ear as he manoeuvred you down onto the window seat, half-pinning you on your side with his arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

“Pitiful,” he drawled, his tone rich with mockery. “And here I thought you’d make it a challenge.”

You shoved at him, scowling. “Let me go, you overgrown-”

Whatever venom you’d prepared was shattered as his fingers pressed into your ribs, curling with precision against the fabric of your sweater. Laughter burst from you, loud and uncontrollable, and you immediately clamped your lips shut, mortified by the sound.

“Ah,” Loki purred, his grin widening. “There it is. That lovely sound you try so hard to keep from the world. Go on, darling. Let me hear it again.”

“Loki, wait- no!” you gasped, but his hands had already found the curve of your waist, his fingers pinching with precision that felt criminal.

“No?” he echoed, mockingly incredulous. “You were so calm a moment ago. What happened?”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer. His hands slipped beneath the hem of your sweater, squeezing tighter, his nails grazing the bare skin of your sides. You quaked at the contact, laughter spilling out uncontrollably as he found every sensitive spot with uncanny accuracy. Your hands clutched at his forearms, his chuckle hot and tempting against your neck as your head fell back in mirth.

“Tell me the truth,” he said, his voice low and commanding, the words a dark melody against your ear. “Why did you run?”

“I- I...” you wheezed, twisting in his hold, going nowhere. With a ferocious, defiant growl, you yelled, "I... walked!"

Loki paused, his lips curling in that knowing smirk, and then he tickled harder, digging in with precision. You crumpled back against him, laughing helplessly, unable to catch your breath. Every sound that left your mouth was a mix of laughter and helpless gasps, each one a surrender to him, to the unrelenting tickling.

“Let's try again,” Loki commanded, his voice low, his breath warm against your ear. “Tell me why you fled.”

You struggled to pull yourself together, trying to come up with another witty retort, but before you could speak, Loki found an especially sensitive spot, just under your ribs, and his fingers locked in with a brutal efficiency. You shrieked, squirming beneath him, but he held you there with the effortless force of a god, his smile widening against the shell of your ear.

You thrashed harder, your laughter raw and breaking, tears welling in your eyes. “I’ll- kill you-”

“You’ll what?” He laughed, low and dark, his fingers picking up speed again, pressing and kneading with wicked precision. Every stroke of his hands felt like it was designed to unravel you, to push you past your limits and then some.

The realisation hit like a blow: he could read you. Every shudder, every hitch in your breath, every twitch of your body. And worse, he was enjoying it, adjusting his touch with the kind of skill that only centuries of mischief could hone. His hands didn’t just tickle; they teased, tormented, mastered you.

"You- oh my g-" you gasped, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes. "You absolute fucking-"

“Such language,” he chided, his tone a tease of disapproval. “And after I’ve been so gentle.”

His fingers danced lower, teasing the curve of your hips, and the laugh that escaped you was so deep, so raw, it left your chest aching. Loki stilled for half a heartbeat, his grin sharp as he took in the sound, before redoubling his efforts. He pressed his thumbs into the tender space just above your hipbones, his fingers curling to squeeze in a way that had you screaming, your body writhing in his iron grip.

“Okay! Okay!” you gasped, tears of mirth welling in your eyes.

“Speak, then,” he commanded in low and silken voice, his fingers unrelenting. “And don’t lie to me. You won’t like the consequences.”

“I—” You hesitated, your breath hitching, but he gave you no mercy. His nails dragged lightly over your ribs, and the sound that tore from you was half a laugh, half a desperate gasp.

“Speak."

“I didn’t want to embarrass myself!” you finally choked out, your body trembling beneath his. “I didn’t want to make something stupid and have everyone see how bad it is!”

Immediately, his hands stilled, and you gulped in a shuddering breath. He unwrapped his arms from around you and leaned back, his smirk softening into something almost... fond. You shoved at him weakly, as if not quite believing he was retreating.

“Well,” he said, standing and staring down at you, admiring his handiwork, “you’ve certainly made a spectacle of yourself now.”

You glared at him, flushed and breathless. “You... are insufferable.”

“And you,” he countered, his grin returning, “are utterly fascinating. Shall we?”

Before you could protest, he hooked his arms under your knees and around your back, sweeping you up effortlessly, carrying you toward the door. You squirmed in his grasp.

“What the hell are you doing now?”

“Delivering you back to the battlefield,” he said, his smirk a knife’s edge. “You’re not escaping that easily. You’ve still got a pumpkin to ruin, and I, for one, am thoroughly invested in the spectacle.”

You groaned, your head falling back in defeat. "I hate you."

The smirk in his voice was undeniable. "No, you don't."

The dining hall was no longer the lively scene it had been earlier.

Now, it was deserted, shadows stretching long and dark across the room, flickering with the faint light of a few dying candles. The scent of melted wax and pumpkin guts permeated in the air, and the silence was nearly oppressive.

Loki carried you inside, his grip firm but not unkind, and though you didn’t resist, you couldn’t help but feel a smouldering irritation at the way he seemed to enjoy this small victory. When he set you down, his hands lingered at your waist, steadying you, as though daring you to bolt again.

You stepped forward, stopping just shy of your untouched pumpkin. Its smooth, orange surface gleamed in the low light, mocking you. The tools remained where you’d left them, and the weight of your earlier frustration pressed at the edges of your mind.

“I... don’t know what to do with it,” you said finally, turning back to Loki. You hated how the admission sounded - small, almost defeated - but there was no taking it back now.

Loki’s sharp gaze softened imperceptibly. His lips twitched, but the smirk didn’t fully form. “Then I shall help you,” he said, his voice low and smooth, offering no room for argument.

Before you could respond, he sat in your chair with that infuriating ease, his presence commanding even in the simplest of movements. His eyes met yours, glittering with a mixture of challenge and amusement, and he reached out a hand, curling his fingers in a silent demand.

“What are you-” The words barely left your mouth before you realised he was beckoning you to sit on his lap. Heat flushed through you, unbidden, and you scoffed, trying to mask it. “You do realise chairs are meant for one person, don’t you?”

Yet, unwilling to have him see how he was sliding under your skin, you turned and settled yourself against him. His muscled chest brushed against your back, his legs firm and solid as your seat.

“And yet, here we are,” he murmured, his lips brushing your ear as he spoke. His hand settled at your waist - an anchor, not a cage. “Now, let’s see if we can salvage your poor, neglected pumpkin.”

You scoffed, grabbing the carving tool. “Fine. Show me your masterful technique, Your Highness.”

The title came out sharper than intended, but Loki only chuckled, low and indulgent. He leaned closer, his shadow engulfing yours, and reached around your shoulder to guide your hand. His fingers slid over yours, his grip firm but not harsh. “Relax,” he murmured. His voice sent a delicious shiver down your spine. “You grip it like a weapon. This is art, not war.”

You bit back a retort and let him guide you. His body was close enough that his every movement brushed against yours, his breath warm against your cheek. Together, you began to carve into the pumpkin, slow and deliberate. His free hand flexed against your waist, your free hand steadying the canvas.

As the shapes emerged, you realised they weren’t ordinary designs. They were runes.

Norse runes. Delicate, intricate, and entirely unreadable to you.

Loki worked with a confidence that bordered on arrogance, his hand steady as he traced the lines with your hand.

“What does it say?” you asked eventually, breaking the silence.

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he leaned closer, his breath warm against your neck as he murmured, “You’ll see. Keep holding it steady."

The tension between you grew with every passing second. His touch lingered long, his presence close. Every shift of his body beneath yours was impossible to ignore, every brush of his breath against your skin a reminder of just how thin the line between teasing and something real had become.

When the carving was done, you slipped off his lap, feeling the need for a the brief moment of distance for your sanity, and retrieved a candle from the sideboard.

But the room felt colder without him holding you.

You lit the wick and placed the candle inside the pumpkin, watching as the light filled the carved runes, casting jagged shadows across the table.

You turned back to Loki. His expression was unreadable, his gaze fixed on you as though he could see straight through to your very thoughts.

Carefully, you sat back down on his lap, unable to ignore the magnetic pull he seemed to have on you. This time, you sat side-on. His hands settled instinctively, one on your back, one on your knee, holding you steady. With his height, your faces were almost level, but you still had to look ever so slightly up.

“What does it say?” you asked again, your voice quieter now, as if speaking too loudly might shatter whatever fragile thing had formed between you.

“The name of a great warrior,” he said, his tone mockingly reverent. “Renowned for wit, skill, and unmatched beauty.”

You arched a brow, your lips twitching. “Let me guess. Your name?”

His grin widened, and the silence was answer enough for you.

You rolled your eyes, but a genuine smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Yet undeniably fascinating,” he countered, his voice a low purr. His gaze dropped to your lips, and his smirk faltered, replaced with something quieter, more tender. Relieved. "There it is." His words were almost a sigh.

You tilted your head, raising a brow in question.

“I was beginning to fear you didn’t know how to smile.”

The intimacy of his words rendered you speechless for several, long seconds. Your mind faltered, your fingers fidgeting in your lap.

“What? You don't remember what happened like... twenty minutes ago? I recall laughing to the point of tears, thanks to you.”

“That was different,” he said simply, his tone quieter, earnest.

The air between you thickened, heavy with unspoken things. His hand moved in slow, deliberate patterns against your back. “It must be exhausting,” he said after a moment, his voice gentle and laced with something that sounded dangerously close to sympathy. “Always bracing for the next crisis.”

His sudden sincerity caught you off-guard. You fidgeted with your hands, stained with pumpkin pulp, your gaze dropping to your lap. “It’s not like that,” you muttered, though the words felt hollow.

“Isn’t it?” His hand stilled on your back for a moment before continuing its slow, soothing movements. “You are allowed moments of meaningless joy. To partake in frivolity. It doesn’t make you weak.”

A bitter laugh escaped you, soft and humourless. “I take it you didn’t buy that I was embarrassed about the pumpkin?”

He tilted his head, his lips curving into a faint smirk. “Not for a second.”

You looked up, straight into him. "But you let me go."

His gaze fell to your lips, as if he were already missing your smile. Mourning it. Plotting a witty remark or flirtatious comment that might see its return.

He then looked back to your eyes, swallowing harder than usual, his voice now gentle. “I thought you were due for some mercy. You... seem to have very little for yourself.”

The words settled over you like a weight, heavy and undeniable.

And for a moment, you couldn’t breathe.

"It feels wrong," you admitted in little over a whisper. "To... do things like this when so many people-" The breath caught in your throat and you had to look back at your hands, sniffing to buy some time. "It's selfish. Carving pumpkins. Decorating. Laughing at stupid things. People are out there suffering, and I’m here playing holiday games. Safe.”

Loki was quiet for a long moment, his hand resuming its slow, deliberate movements along your back. It brought you far more comfort than you'd ever admit out loud. Not yet, at least.

When he finally spoke, his voice was soft, the usual sharp edges dulled. “You cannot bear the weight of your world every hour of every day. Even the strongest flame falters if it is not tended.”

The rawness of his words cut through your defences. You couldn’t meet his eyes, but your lips twitched as you tried to deflect. “You know,” you muttered, half-laughing as your head dipped, “getting tickled to death felt a lot less exposing than this conversation.”

His chest vibrated with a low chuckle, and when you glanced up, his smirk had returned, a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. “I’m happy to oblige,” he drawled, his fingers curling against you as if preparing to pounce.

You shot him a warning look, though you couldn’t quite keep the corner of your mouth from twitching. “You wouldn't.”

“Oh, wouldn't I?” he teased, his hands still hovering ominously close.

"No," you shook your head, that twitch turning into a smirk. "I sat with you of my own free will. Trusting you. You won't jeopardise that."

The playful glint in his gaze softened slightly as he settled back, studying you with a quiet intensity. "The little rabbit may just be a fox after all," he mused, ceding his advantage.

He studied you for a good, long while, you both sitting in a comfortable silence as he traced idle patterns against your back, his thumb brushing your knee.

Finally, you swallowed your nerves, and broke the silence. "Thank you. For your help.”

You looked back to the table, eyes roaming over what he'd carved with your hand;

The name of a great warrior. He'd said. Renowned for wit, skill, and unmatched beauty.

"Runes are... actually quite beautiful."

He hummed softly in agreement.

You turned your head slightly, eyes still on the sharp lines. "What would my name look like?"

Then, you looked up at his face, and your breath caught.

His eyes were alight, faintly glittering from the flickering candle inside the artwork. Something between a smile and something far more satisfied curled onto his lips as he nodded at the runes.

"Exactly like that."

[brawltogethernow]

I would LOVE to hear your aro Hal thoughts if you don’t mind sharing?

[re:] (Sorry in advance there are absolutely no issue citations; I have saved so many pages in random places without labeling them.)

I don't know if I'd even call it having thoughts so much as having...an incomplete collection of Hal...saying things?

And having things said about him?

And he does this very familiar weasel jink when asked certain types of questions.

Like the general direction of authorial intent here is presumably that he's a ~playboy~ who ~can't be tied down~,

but we rarely see him...like...with anybody. He's an informed attribute playboy who's had a handful of onscreen flings that tend to be complete disasters with significantly less chemistry than a poorly measured baking soda volcano, and other than that there's Carol, who he's been failing to marry with high agitation for sixty-five years at this point. Like in cape comics it's standard for your obvious endgame A couple to take twenty or thirty years to get around to that, but sixty is excessive. Like even Alicia Masters and the Thing managed it faster and they kept getting put off because it stressed out too many Marvel writers to contemplate monsterfucking. (And other less comedic factors but this post isn't about that.)

And every time Hal tries to go steady with Carol he acts like he's dying, even though he clearly loves her and holds having her in his life in extremely high priority.

Like he is not enjoying a playboy lifestyle he doesn't want to give up. He has tried very hard to settle down several times, but he always panics and bolts at the last second like someone who's run out of the willpower¹ to keep holding onto an electrified rod--except when he's rescued by deus ex machina.

¹Ha.

And it's also pretty evident that he hates himself for this and doesn't understand why he can't pass this standard life milestone, or why he keeps hurting Carol, his favorite person, trying and failing to do what they think you're supposed to. He very blatantly views his romantic failures as something that let down other people and "improving" as a sacrifice he's supposed to make for them.

When his desires come into it it's primarily in the context of him gaslighting himself about how he totally wants the things he's supposed to that won't disappoint people, definitely definitely for real this time.

As seen above, romantic success for Hal is often conflated with retiring from being Green Lantern to inject cheap drama and insert a built-in inevitable failure, framing him as staying single because he's "married to the job". This barely ever made sense but was already downright comedic by the, I want to say late 70's?, where Carol was in on the secret identity and John and Katma were pulling off extremely successful GL/GL dating in the same book. At this point it's complete nonsense, so writers have been pulling harder on framing Hal as a disorganized man-child with commitment issues who's just sort of arbitrarily rendered undateable by being a committed superhero, something which, although it's a classic source of drama, has not hindered any of DC's other characters to this degree this consistently.

In conclusion: This aro man does not know what aromanticism is despite being one degree of separation from Connor Hawke, which is ruining his life and his ability to have any self esteem. Him and Carol desperately need someone to tell them what queerplatonic relationships are so they can stop doing these wretched I'm-not-touching-you kisses.

#EverybodyDislikedThat

Also he's been dressing up as the aromantic flag since 1959. Okay now I'm done.

[melancholiania]

DESCENSO

[yandere! king magnifico x reader]

summary: snippets of king magnifico's love with you, his darling, a bright light in a kingdom he is rapidly losing control over.

[you assume queen amaya's role in this fic, but this is a gn!reader fic and there is no reference to reader's gender.]

warnings: THIS IS A YANDERE POST/FIC. read at your own risk. pretty tame, but watch out for auditory hallucinations, aggressive behaviour and the like. one mention of blood, and one mention of murder.

word count: 3.6k+ words

a/n: so...wish was low-key ass (asha deserved a better movie). but magnifico is one of the few highlights of the movie, and he is so ripe for yandere potential!!! a traumatised man who clings to the people's wishes out of his own skewed sense of right or wrong and his descent into madness (as poorly as it was done)? ooh baby!!! so for my writing comeback, enjoy this fic! (i'm also taking a lot of liberties with the wish system and overall lore because the way they explained it was irritatingly confusing with so many plot gaps, so if there are any inconsistencies please forgive them haha)

please reblog and reply! would love to see your comments!

✵ When his homeland was ravaged and his parents were murdered in cold blood by bandits and thieves, Magnifico, having just barely come into his own as a man, in his grief, swore he would never cause harm like this to befall any home he would find ever again. He would run, and run, with only a tattered tapestry being the last reminder of the birthplace he knew would never exist again.

✵ His gift of sorcery was, despite his innate talent, not an easy one contrary to popular belief. Years of blood, sweat and tears were spent pouring over tomes and scrolls filled with the whispers of strength and potential. He would travel all across the Iberian peninsula, seeking out and absorbing knowledge to protect himself. He travelled often, collecting books and tomes to keep for himself (especially one rather large book unexpectedly given by an odd stranger that he never dared to open), and never settling down in fear of danger befalling him and anyone he would meet.

✵ That is, until he met you.

✵ He'd never have known today was going to be any special. The sky is clear, a light breeze flowing through the ports, with grand sailboats almost flying across the Strait of Gibraltar. Magnifico reads his notebook of spells by a small cathedral, the only place he had been able to beg for sanctuary. As he angrily scratches out the wrong glyphs with his stylus, a leaf, its hues of midnight blue and green rich and fresh, casually falls onto his notebook. Irritated, he looks up.

(In his older years, he would realise it was a mere coincidence that a simple leaf, serendipity, let him discover you.)

✵ You are a vision as you pick oranges from trees by the cliff overlooking the docks, hands skilled and adept. Despite your simple garb denoting your lack of status, you are stunning. Magnifico swears he can almost hear your sighs of exertion as you drop a hefty basket of said oranges. His hardened heart sinks, but it is not a bad feeling, not at all.

✵ His...infatuation feels like he's drowning in marzipan, a sweet, beautiful sight for him to consume and devour, gorge on until he cannot eat anymore. It feels like drinking rosewater, or even like the feel of lavender oil, a soothing balm in his soul he cannot bear to let go of. He shakes his thoughts, palms suddenly sweaty and ruining the ink of his spellbook as he decides, for the very first time since the massacre, to bear his heart to someone.

You.

✵ And it all started with a simple "Are you alright?!" As he haphazardly shoved his book into his rucksack and rushed to help you on that fateful day.

✵ Years pass after your fateful meeting and eventual marriage. Building the kingdom of Rosas with you as his beloved partner is a dream that Magnifico has nearly completed in full earnest. The people adore him and you...you are loved too, yes, but you prefer to be more in the background, wanting to support your husband, yet your reserved nature not being the best suited for public speaking.

(A small, tiny, itsy bitsy little part of Magnifico, tucked away beneath his glossy veneer of a royal persona, secretly prefers it this way.)

✵ By now, the wish-granting is in full effect. Every new resident of Rosas is told of the miracles their king provides (often with great enthusiasm by its citizens.) You willingly petition to give up your wish to the king during court, in exchange for your utopian life in Rosas, and King Magnifico will grant it in front of the entire kingdom, a spectacle of light and wonder.

✵ To be truthful, Magnifico loves the power to help his people. It feels euphoric, granting their wishes as his power flows from his very essence to aid the world. The way the people's faces light up when he gives them their heart's...no, their soul's desire, it strokes his ego in a way little else can do. The hypnotic allure of power flouncing through his fingertips is a tempting feeling for reasons he cannot describe with common words.

✵ But, unbeknownst to the general population, he saves his most powerful magic for you, his darling, his star that fell from the heavens, the one he loves with every fibre of his mortal flesh. You are that little else who matters more than actually granting people's wishes. Your wishes are more important to Magnifico. And that is especially true today...

.

.

.

The sun is rising as you peer over your documents in your personal study, with trade agreements and decrees that make your head spin. Magnifico has little interest in these matters, so as the second half of the royal couple and the ruler who actually bothers to worry about these matters, you have to take on the bureaucratic duty.

The golden hour casts streaks of sunlight all over your spacious chamber, and the ceiling sparkles with accented gold paintings of constellations replicating the night sky above Rosas (Magnifico had instantly conjured them there when you lamented over the plain white stucco on top). You hear your door open.

“My love?”

You crane your neck and smile as the white-cloaked figure of Magnifico saunters in with a restlessness that belies his stormy blue eyes. He seems rather nervous, hands already twitching with sparks of sorcery that make you eye him fondly. He always acted much younger than his slowly graying dark hair would have one believe.

“¿Mi rey?” You soften your gaze. "What's wrong?"

Magnifico sits on the armrest of your chair, leaning in to inhale the scent of the nape of your neck as he sighs in relief. He seems rather apologetic suddenly, arms hugging himself as he eyes you with those same blue eyes, lightening just a bit so they seem like circles of roiling seawater and not storm clouds crying in anger.

“It’s your birthday today, my love.”

You raise your eyebrows, relieved that it is nothing more than a trivial matter. "Oh, who cares about that nonsense? You know I never truly celebrate my birthday publicly, Magnifico. Just you and I—"

“My...Our people have not made celebrations in your honour.” You tilt your head at his rather matter-of-fact statement, your brows furrowing in concern as you realise Magnifico has become rather upset.

“Magnifico, I—“

“Rosas should be celebrating YOU LIKE I DO! I would create miracles for you, destroy mountains, reshape forests for you, my love. The least my people can do is to acknowledge that you even exist as my spouse and consort!”

You sigh and ruffle his hair, soothing his heaving breaths as you gently wipe his glimmering eyes. “No, Magnifico...all I need is you, mi rey. You, the man I love, with me by my side.” Magnifico leans into your touch, chest slowing as he calms down.

"I just wish the world saw how much I adore you, my light," Magnifico mutters as he pulls off you and gets off the armrest. He turns around in a flourish of his shimmery cape to face you, left hand outstretched as his magic conjures a small figurine of your visage, made of glittering, mirror-like crystal. You chuckle. "You are such a hopeless romantic, mi rey." "Only for you, my love." He then leans in to kiss your forehead, eyes half-lidded as he watches you with adoring eyes.

"Only you."

✵ Rosas is no exception to the rule of time, so years pass as is the natural order of things. The kingdom has only grown in scale and vibrancy, people slowly but surely filling the kingdom with every day that passes. You and Magnifico settle into your roles as King and consort, Magnifico's magic allowing you both to last longer than your people could ever imagine.

✵ And, well...Magnifico begins to grow resentful. ✵ Wish-granting is becoming more of a chore than a true display of his powers for the common people to admire and sing their praises for. Week by week, day by day, he must grant wishes to the people who seem utterly ungrateful, only waiting for their turn at a chance for power, opportunity, or some other useless wish that Magnifico, for lack of a better term, could not give a rat's ass about. And they have begun to take his sorcery for granted.

.

.

. "¡Joder!" You startle as Magnifico sends his tubes of potions flying, clattering, shattering onto the polished marble floor with a CRASH!, the purple liquid seeping out onto the tile. Your husband is not like himself tonight, all anger and no lighthearted smugness, no kindness at all. He heaves, arms crackling with pale blue energy, fingertips craning as if they were claws. You had come here to bring him to bed, the moon having risen long ago and the lights of Rosas dimmed for the night. He had recently become more irritable and gruff, but you had been assuaged with honeyed words from him assuring you it was alright and he was just having an off-season. When you had opened the mirrored door to his private laboratory with a wave of your hand (only he trusted you with the gestures), you had not imagined it would be this dire. "¿Mi rey? Please...come to bed. You seem unwell, and experimenting all night is not good for your health, even if you want—" "NO!" He angrily circles the laboratory, furious as he crunches the glass of the broken test tubes beneath the sole of his boots. His pupils are contracted, and his breaths are constricted, as if he needs to explode lest he causes something truly harmful. "My people....they take and take and they take, with no thanks or gratitude for me! I take care of them, I clothe and house them out of the kindness of my own heart, and all they want is their wishes!??" He sends a bronze cauldron flying with his magic, a burst of pale blue that makes the cauldron clatter next to your feet. you step back, and the squeak of your slippers alerts him, his head snapping at you. He is on you in an instant, arms wrapped around you like a vice as he gasps and snarls hefty breaths, chest rising up and down in rapid succession. He breathes your scent of orange and cinnamon, and his heartbeat slows to a simmer, and he quietly murmurs, voice tired. "I'm sorry...sorry, so sorry, my love. I just...I cannot keep giving and giving and seeing n-nothing given back to me from my people..." Magnifico's voice is chock full of exhaustion, a pain he cannot let you truly feel. "Our people are a demanding bunch, are they not?" Your attempt at a joke makes Magnifico huff with mirth, a rare occurrence these days. He pulls back and brings his hand to caress your cheek, and you lean into it. His magic, now much less volatile, manifests as small glittery specks around you both. "They are. they really are," your husband replies. He looks at the glitter surrounding you both and brings his other hand to reach out for them. You watch him do this and quirk a small smile. "You do not need to bow to our people's wills every single day. You are only one man." You push in for a kiss on his soft lips, and he clearly wasn't expecting it, his blush hot and red as you pull away, turbulent blue eyes brightening like clouds parting on a sunny day.

The soft linen of your night clothes swishes as you begin to exit his laboratory, and you turn your head to utter one last thing. "Tell me when you are struggling, please. I'll always be here for you, Magnifico." As you head off, Magnifico places his fingers on his lips, tracing the remains of your lips on his own, heart racing once more with a longing that threatens to consume him. He looks up to the high ceiling of his observatory, the dark austerity of the structure calling to him. Wait.

Yes. Oh, yes, he finally knows how to fix this. "Thank you, my love. Thank you, so very much."

And with a flourish of his cape, he puts on a manic grin as he levitates the broken glass with a flick of his hands. Time to put his plan into action.

✵ Another few decades have passed, and it is currently the present day. Rosas is a flourishing, robust kingdom, a place that most other countries would consider a utopia, all thanks to King Magnifico and his consort ( ). In the years leading to now, Magnifico has only grown in skill and power, thanks in part to his new form of wish granting that has eased his own suffering. ✵ Every month or so, Magnifico takes the people's wishes when they turn of age, the most important wish, the one that powers one's being. He takes care of them in his laboratory, and on the same night, he grants one person's wish, which of course, he does with his usual penchant for spectacle. ✵It's so much easier. No more begging, no more exhaustion, no more fear of handing power to the wrong person's hands. After all, only he trusts himself with this power he worked so hard to hone and maintain.

(What he fails to mention to his people is that their wishes are of no benefit to him, not anymore. He has lost any true care for them, for his new system is to only prevent them from trying anything. He only cares for the one closest to him now.) ✵He has you to thank, after all. His smart, gorgeous, talented, beautiful ray of light, who allowed him to even think of this new system, and who stayed after his outburst that should have scared you off. And he does thank you, by pampering you as much as he can. ✵ He conjures the finest clothes for you, pieces of cashmere and silks and taffetas. He makes (forces) the cooks to cook for your every whim and desire. On public tours of the kingdom, he makes a reminder for any citizen who even inconveniences you just once. ✵ And later on, if people forget the miscreants even exist...well, that is not his problem to care for.

✵ Magnifico needs a new royal apprentice, as the last one blew up part of his front-facing study. He could have easily fixed that with a wave of his hand (and he did, all while glaring daggers at his very terrified apprentice), but he fired the man nonetheless. Frankly, he felt good getting rid of him. He was completely useless at making even the simplest potions anyway. ✵ Sure enough, after a soul-sucking set of consultations, the last hopeful, Asha from the village of Hamlet, arrives. Magnifico sees you talk with the young girl as you two ascend the Sisyphean number of stairs leading to his study. His heart flickers with a sense of paranoia once he sees Asha; something about her bothers him. ✵ He's been recently having similar bouts of suspicions and delusions, all green-tinged scenarios of you leaving him and the kingdom he worked so hard for falling into chaos. The little vegetable seller by the sea during your royal tours could be an assassin to kill you. The little child who you greet by the palace could be a plant from a neighbouring kingdom set out to kill you. The royal kitchen could poison his beloved's meal and you would choke out and pass in his arms. ✵ Whispers cloud his mind, his ears fine-tuned to the haunting words they serenade for his ego. They tell him that this girl is someone who will destroy him and all he loves.

✵ Everywhere, he sees your death. And every time, he vows to prevent those ideas from ever reaching the light of day.

✵ But for now, as you introduce Asha to Magnifico at his doorstep, he quietly grits his teeth and forces his lips into a smile. Maybe this Asha girl will be helpful for him, and not spell the kingdom's downfall he has seen in his visions.

✵ A Star was ripped from the sky. ✵ A. Star. Was ripped. From the sky!!!! ✵ This is not good. Not good at all. Magnifico was specifically reminded of this in his visions. A star falling out of the sky, destroying the kingdom of Rosas and dragging you into the depths of darkness, leaving him forever alone. .

.

. Magnifico paces around his study, you sitting in the armchair by the fireplace, eyeing him with concern masking your wariness. A worried Magnifico is a reckless Magnifico, and as he throws a sacred tome to the fireplace, it raises alarm bells in your heart.

You immediately get up a second after when he reaches towards the locked Book of Spells, ignoring his buzzing blue sting-flies as they leap from the glass case as a defensive spell. His hands begin to be ravaged, but he ignores the pain and blood as he pulls the book out, ignoring the bottle of obsidian oil as he opens the pages. "Mi rey, forbidden magic is not the answer, you know this!" You yank his arm away from the Book, and Magnifico's eyes lock with yours, eyes narrowed in a desperate glare. For a moment, you swear they flash an unnatural green. "You should do well to not test me, ( )." You frown, upset. Magnifico does not threaten. He whines like a child at times, yes. He even yells if he's truly tested on a bad day, angry and petulant. All of that you have seen in your decades of marriage to your beloved. But to threaten you? You fear something has gone terribly wrong, even as you convince him to put the book away. As you both gaze over the kingdom from his personal balcony, his arm around your waist has never been tighter than it has been today, bloodied fingers gripping you as if you are a doll he cannot bear to let go of. He whispers in your ear.

"I'm sorry, my dear. I just...you are the only thing I want to keep safe anymore. Tell me that you understand. Please." He kisses your hand with an adoration that feels heavy and oppressive. He gazes into your eyes, and they are back to their crystal blue, reflecting the bright blue of Rosas' morning sky. "I am so lucky to have you," he whispers once more. You wonder if you feel the same.

✵ In hindsight, you should have convinced him more effectively. ✵ The minute you had seen the centre of his study already opened, stairs leading a downward spiral into the depths of darkness, you feared the worst. And you were right, much to your exponentially increasing terror. ✵ Your husband, still dressed in his white robes, is hunched over his worktable, inhaling audibly as he pulls out a staff of crystal, sleek and sharp, from the cauldron bubbling with the same unnatural green magic you swore you saw reflected in his eyes. ✵ You know you are outmatched once his laughs of excitement deepen and stagger into maniacal wheezes that fill the dark chamber, the green consuming the background as he turns to face you. ✵ "Daaaaarlinnnng..." ✵ So, the only thing you can do is try and reason with him.

.

.

. "So you side with her, then? That traitor?"

The way he speaks Asha's name with such disgust coating his words already adds to the mountain of warning signs your heart is screaming at you. But you press on. "No, Mi rey, I—" The sharp end of his staff lands only inches away from your neck. Magnifico tilts his head to the side in a mockery of innocence, and if this was a different, much less terrifying time, you'd admire the way his eyes filled with adoration and the way his white hair was slightly dishevelled, his smile wide like a hyena's. "You know, I've realised a few things." He saunters closer to you, staff back at his side like a knight with his sword. He hugs your waist, eyes gleaming green with adoration.

"No one matters to me. It has been this way for a long, long time. Not the kingdom, not my cavalry, not my staff or my alchemists. Not anymore." He gently places a hand on your chin, and you resist the urge to scream and push him away. "But I love you. And me, of course," He adds with a humorless chuckle and continues. "But all this time, I've loved you so much. I built this cursed kingdom for you, I studied sorcery to provide you the best life I could give with my heart and soul. Every bit of anger, every bit of sadness, every bit of happiness, I feel for you." You try and reach for a ceremonial dagger that is only inches away, hanging on the dungeon wall. You're so very close to it, but you miss Magnifico's eyes shift quickly to the left and notice. "So when I see you conspiring...with that STAIN on our happiness..." He grabs your hand, crushing it like a thumbscrew would, and you realise your hopes of escape are dashed. "...I get, well, a little upset." Magnifico grits his teeth, shards of crystal-like mirrors blasting up from the dungeon floor, and you finally scream as he grabs you close, the dungeon ripping into itself as you both rise up on a small platform made of black glass. Now back in the grand study, you can only watch helplessly as he slams you to the floor, staff pointed at your injured form. The mirrors only grow higher and higher, surrounding you both as he laughs the most sinister laugh you have ever heard from him, oily, layered like a crowd of Magnificos are laughing along with him, revelling in your fear. His eyes are acid green, and his smile is wistfully manic as he speaks his final words in a sing-songy tone.

"After all, if I can destroy myself for you and you don't even want me anymore...well, we can't have that, can we?" His perfect white smile is hellish.

"I'll keep you safe here where no one else can harm you...all to myself."

gif by @/picsani border by @/enchanthings-a

[liloinkoink]

hey guys, someone just sent me a weird ass ask claiming my incredibly close friend cherri @cherrifire secretly hate me and is talking abt me behind my back. i was not the only person to get one of these identical slanderous asks. i’ve already blocked the anon but like. open letter to them, and for the benefit of anyone else who gets an ask like this….

1) anon, you’re genuinely fucking stupid

2) hysterical to send this when i was actively chatting w her, while we were in the process of fleshing out yet another renchanting au, something we have done all day every day for… gosh, how long has it been now? nearly two years? i would say that it was really bad timing to send this ask to me while i was actively chatting aus w her but there really isn’t any moment you could have sent this that i wouldn’t have been.

3) if you thought i wasn’t gonna call bullshit and snitch immediately you don’t know shit about me or cherri, which, granted, is evident by the ask in general, but you really are stupid

4) if a gc like this existed—which it does not, bc cherri is not like this and would not do this—i would be in it. this idiot doesn’t even know im cherri’s emotional support writer. do you have any idea how many gcs and servers she’s dragged me into w her.

5) get your facts right cherri talks shit about me to my face. this is mutual. fake ass fan. if you were a real cherri friend you would know this smh

6) no, actually, you’re right, she definitely hates me. that’s why i met her irl literally like 3 months ago on her invitation, we hung out for a genuine week, spent basically the whole time arm in arm or hand in hand. this is also why we were planning a second meetup last night. you idiot. you fool. you complete and utter moron

anyway, if anyone gets this ask:

it’s complete bullshit. theyre sending this to cherri’s best friends for some godforsaken reason. it’s very weird and deeply cringe. also incredibly poorly planned. idk how many ppl you sent this to, but a few of us are in a gc and we have been making fun of this ask for like an hour (anon, im one of cherri’s friends and she’s been telling a small group of friends about you— lol. lmao even)

anyway like. to reiterate. cherri’s one of my best friends, she’s absolutely lovely and i’m lucky every day to know her. we hang out and chat constantly and we’ve met irl and it was an incredible experience i would love to repeat. i have told her things i have not fuckin told anyone else and you could not otherwise waterboard out of me. i love talking to her all the time and i miss her when she’s busy for even like, an hour. i love writing w her and creating things w her. she’s an incredibly bright spot in my life, often the first person i think of upon waking and the last i think of before i sleep. she is kind and funny and i love her a lot.

i’m a bitch tho so like @ this anon go fuck yourself. you better hope that when you die that the devil finds you before i do. sending this ask to a bunch of our friends, trying to turn the people she cares about against her, and for what? you clearly don’t know her well enough to be talking like this. trying to ruin my friend’s reputation and friendships w a vague as hell and entirely baseless copy paste is super fucking weird. why would you do this? and like, do you think we were born yesterday to fall for this? i’m insulted for her for whatever it was you were trying to pull and i’m insulted on behalf of myself and everyone else you sent this to that you think we’re as stupid as you are. what is your damage. get a hobby.

[mullermilkshake]

People would assume

Part 13 <- -> Part 14

How could you?

Satoru gets his moment alone with Nanami to finally air his frustrations once and for all.

Satoru Gojo x Fem!reader Tags - Conspiracy?, mentions of pregnancy, violence, manipulation

<- Masterlist

Satoru had waited three years for this moment. 

He knew Nanami would come back, he just fucking knew it because he couldn’t help himself. Though he had to give it to the guy, he didn’t quit and that was a great quality in a man, but Satoru was so done with his shit. 

Nanami was once his friend. A friend he respected and admired at one point in his life to the point he relied on him and trusted him, but he learned quickly not to be so trusting. 

And after what he did to you, Satoru couldn’t bear the sight of him.

“So…” He shut the office door and locked it. “Let’s talk before you go back to the big house, yeah?”

Nanami sniffed away the blood from his nose and sat up, backing on to the book shelf. “That was quite a hit.”

“You deserve so much more, believe me. Why the hell did you come back and break into my house, I thought I made it clear never to come near us again?”

Nanami’s relaxed attitude pissed him off, so calm like he’d only said the wrong thing to offend you, not physically assault you. It was a part of him that Satoru had to grow accustomed to extremely quickly, and it was an usually poor quality for someone so apparently civilised. 

When he didn’t respond, Satoru approached him and jutted him with his foot to make sure the bastard hadn’t fallen asleep. “I asked you a question. Why did you come here? I mean you searched my office so there must be a reason.”

“I came back to get what's mine, Gojo.” He coughed and spluttered a little, the back of his hand already covered in red.

You? He thought you were his, a possession to keep and take like you had no say? “Nah, you can’t have her, she’s already made her feelings known and you haven't seen it all affect her like I have. You ruined her, you just… ruined her.”

Satoru sat down on his desk, hunched over with interlocked fingers placed neatly upon his lap, Nanami stayed where he was, his breathing laboured, but not enough according to Satoru. It just made him want to kick him more.

“I didn’t ruin her, you did all that yourself.” 

Satoru laughed at that, the man was that delusional. “What, because I helped her out and got her away from you?”

“I went to prison for you, Gojo… At least give me a little respect.”

“What respect did you earn? You fucked everything up.” Satoru knew this day was going to come and bite him on the ass and he recognised quickly that it was going to piss this guy off. It just occurred faster than he could have anticipated.

“I had your word that you would get me out faster, but all you did was come and gloat.”

Satoru recalled and often replayed those visits in his head and it often made him chuckle. Nanami in a prison jumpsuit thinking he was getting out in a few months. And when that turned into years, well, it was all just a funny joke.

It was far more than once he had visited Nanami in prison, but of course you didn’t know that. 

“Yeah about that… That was kinda the point.”

Nanami didn’t move, but Satoru saw that scowl he had turned vicious. Prison could sure break a man. “You son of a bitch… That was never the plan. I got close to her and drove her in your direction, I fulfilled that favour I owed you. I want to settle the score, you owe me now.”

It was a pretty big favour that Nanami owed Satoru and here he was, talking about it like he’d taken care of the house while he was away on vacation. Keeping a business afloat that did poorly was no easy feat and he was an idiot to think so.

“Hey man, don’t get tetchy with me, I changed my mind okay? Maybe you shouldn’t put all your trust in one man. I owe you nothing in return, besides, I didn’t cause your company troubles-”

“I didn’t cause them either, and that's besides the point… you left me in there to rot because you can’t get this woman off your mind. Was it all worth it? I had your word you would get me out.”

Satoru sat there on the desk while Nanami was below him, he was the best at that and it was something he liked. People beneath him because he was the best at making money and keeping it. “Yeah it was very worth it actually. I got what I want and that’s what’s important here.”

Nanami scoffed and wiped his mouth as he coughed. “Important. That poor girl is what’s important, and you’ve deceived her big time.”

“Deceive? No. I don’t think so. Steer in the right direction? Yes.. But you’re right, she’s really important to me. I think she might actually be pregnant the amount she’s been throwing up, she hasn’t said anything though, so it could just be wishful thinking. I plan on proposing to her too, and she’s none the wiser about any of this… and it’s going to stay that way.”

“You really have trapped her then, huh?” 

That offended Satoru. “I haven’t trapped anyone, I just showed her that I was the best person to take care of her. Everything is just slotting into place.” 

“I’ll make sure she can make an informed decision, she’ll know the truth.”

That was hilarious, it made Satoru chuckle a little louder than it should have, so much so he turned his head to the office door in case you came in at the wrong time. 

Shit. It was about time he called Ino too, not that he liked seeing him around you, but if there was no police presence soon, you’d suspect something. Of course he hadn’t contacted anyone yet.

He pulled his phone out and let Nanami stew for a while. It rang.

“Gojo, are you alright? You never call me.” God this guy was an absolute bore.

“Hey man, I need you to come over, it’s Nanami…” He put on his best breathless act. “He broke in and attacked my girl.” 

He always enjoyed saying your name out loud. “He hurt her, but I managed to knock him out.”

“Shit, alright I’m coming over now I won't be long.” Nanami went to protest, but lost his chance when Satoru hung up the phone and kicked him in the chest. 

“Do you really think she’s gonna believe your stories after what you did to her, which by the way was really fucked up. I had to keep my cool when she told me about you tongue fucking her under the desk. Yeah… I told you to creep her out, not try and fuck her.”

How he managed to stay that calm and concerned without going to throttle the man within an inch of his life was beyond him though he was proud he did, Satoru did not expect that from Nanami at all. 

“I did what you asked. I owed you a favour, that's all.”

Satoru got off of the desk and crouched over the broken man. “Well I told you not to toy with things that belong to me and you didn't listen… and to be honest, those years behind bars don’t seem long enough to show you've learned your lesson, kinda made you weak too.”

Honestly, Nanami should have gotten longer if anyone asked Satoru. What he did to you without Satoru’s permission was way out of his league and he walked too far off of his leash. So naturally, he had to teach him a lesson.

“I did everything you asked, I let her go only because of the help you gave the company during the crash, she still deserves better than you.”

Oh, that’s right. Nanami spoke of you when he was drunk, a crush some would call it, but when he saw you, he just had to have you. Playing Nanami like a fiddle was easy, it was just fate that his company's stock value plummeted and investors were fleeing like cockroaches under a bright light. 

“Maybe.” He was honest, there were probably a select few that were on Satoru’s level. “But I guess we won’t know, because I can do far more than just send you to prison to keep her with me.” 

“Big words for someone that did no work to get to where you are.”

“Nanami…” Satoru shifted his weight to lean closer. “You don’t understand the position you’re in. I’ll fucking kill you if you try and ruin this for me. I won’t let her go and I’ll gladly put a bullet through your head like a dog in the street to keep her in the dark.” 

That shut him up.

“Also.” Satoru broke the silence. “You’re a real asshole for hiding the key to the elevator leading up to my apartment; I had to sell it because of that- really liked that place.” 

Of course Nanami had hidden it, some twisted insurance no doubt, the prick was more intelligent then Satoru gave him credit for at times and it put all sorts of spanners in the works for him. He gave him that key on the premise he would return it or could recover it when he was arrested, not hide it like a complete ass and make things awkward. 

Nanami scoffed and sniffed. “Still a hard place to get into nonetheless. I needed some sort of guarantee you’d get me out but even that deterrent didn’t work.”

That guy he involved too, going and trashing your apartment. That really pissed Satoru off. Who steals underwear, and nothing else? What a freak. What was really crazy was that Satoru couldn’t believe that Nanami actually took care of the guy for him when he asked, what a good dog.

But he did think, was that guy another ‘deterrent’ too?

Regardless of that, everything worked out in Satoru’s favour and mostly according to plan as he predicted. You were his just like he wanted and in the safest place you could be. Sure there were attributes he could improve on, but he was the 'amazing' Satoru Gojo. He was perfect regardless.

“Mark my words Gojo and hear them clearly. I will make sure she knows just how fucked up you are. This is personal now.” The poor fucker didn’t even try to move and take a swing.

Oh well, those were just empty words. 

You and him were going to spend the rest of your lives together and he was proud of the act he had down to a tee completely to convince you. Happy go-lucky Satoru. Concerned and appealing Satoru that would do anything in his power to keep you safe and happy. 

Half of it was true, he did love you unconditionally and way more than he let on. And the other half, well… it was the other half and there was no point in getting into it. 

“Where is he? In here- got it.” The office door swung open. “Holy shit, what did you do to him Gojo?”

“He got me pretty good round the back of the head. He just wouldn’t go down, but he's just come round. I got a little heavy handed so if there’s anything I need to fill out, just let me know.” Nanami didn’t say a word. Ino came over and cuffed him, reading him his rights again for a second time in his life. 

How embarrassing.

“Oh Honey.” You were turned away from the office, leaning against the wall with your foot up like a little injured fox, nibbling away at your fingernail. 

Satoru naturally gravitated toward you. “I left you out there all on your own, I’m so sorry. He hurt you so much I-”

You looked pissed, eyes welling up and your finger pressed his chest. Shit, had you heard his conversation?  You weren't looking at Satoru though, in fact you were looking through him. Nanami came out in cuffs, head down low with Ino trailing behind and wrapped around his arm to lead him out.

“If you hadn't been here… I don’t want to think about it.” You got in close with him, still limping and those wet tears all over your cheeks. “Thank you for being here; keeping me safe like you’ve always done. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He caressed your cheek, stroking you so lovingly. He’d burn the entire world down for you and he was sure you didn’t fully understand just how far he would go to ensure things stayed as they were.

“You were very brave, I’m so proud of you for facing him, I know it wasn’t easy.” You nodded and leant on him, audibly starting to cry and hold on to his shirt.

Pulling you in, Satoru placed his head on top of yours and watched Ino load Nanami into the back of his car. The sight alone was hilarious. And you were still all his. Perfect. 

“I love you.”

And that’s just how life was going to be for the two of you from now on.

Perfect.

Part 13 <- -> Part 14

I really didn't want to tag Satoru as a Yandere! because I don't think he is, he's a man with money and power and gets what he wants through unethical means, but Nanami was pretending to be a Yandere! his whole time 😭 I pulled this plot twist out of my ass and I honestly love it so much. I hope you all enjoyed it!

This fic was originally going to be a one shot, and boy am I glad it continued into a full fic. Thank you to all who encouraged this work to become the rollercoaster it was. Thank you so much for the continued support and love this fic has received.

On to the next one. Thanks again and this isn't goodbye, it's until next time!

Ta-rah!

Tag list - @starrynights23x, @yatiimariiee, @jumpinjaxx, @keepghostly, @reicyberia,

@yourhornysister, @shydroid3000

I think I've tagged everyone, I'm still quite new to the tagging system so I'm really sorry if I've left anyone out! 😭

Likes, comments and reblogs are so appreciated! ❤️

DISCLAIMER - I do not own any of the characters. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!

[swaps55]

I have never heard of an epithet before! What does it mean?

This is a great question! You have probably seen many of them, and just not heard them referred to as epithets.

An epithet is more or less a descriptive word or phrase that stands in the place of a name or a pronoun, such as, “the taller man,” or “the brown-haired woman.” In my experience, fanfic writers in particular tend to latch onto them, especially when trying to create variety in scenes with two characters who share the same pronouns.

I’ll put my thoughts on them under the cut, because I have Opinions on epithets, but I am not An Authority. I’m not your mom. I’m not here to tell you what to do or how to write, and I’m not here to ruin your fun, but we all have the hills we’ll die on and this one is mine. If you are a fan of epithets, just give this post an eyeroll or the finger and scroll on. If you want to know more about epithets and why I think writers can and should avoid them, read on!

Let me get this out of my system: I loathe epithets. Do whatever you want with your oxford comma, but take your epithets out back and shoot them.

Okay, now that’s out of the way, I’ll be a little more constructive about the purpose epithets serve and why I think they are so frequently used poorly.

In my experience, they’re often used as a tool to avoid pronoun confusion, but it’s an inelegant tool that can become a crutch. You have two characters of the same gender in a scene, you have already used their names in a sentence, but the pronoun antecedent is unclear unless you name the character again. You don’t want to do that because it feels repetitive, so you pick out a physical quality and use that instead. Problem solved! Except instead of solve the problem, you’ve potentially introduced new ones.

Nuance is important, and to talk tools we should be using the same toolbox, so for the sake of this argument I’m going to assume we’re talking about 3rd person limited POV, because that’s what I generally see, read, and write the most of.

Chances are very high that the descriptor you chose for your epithet derived from you the writer’s perception of the character being described and not the POV character. This is important, because if you are writing in 3rd person limited, the way you describe other people is how the POV character sees the person being described.  

Now tell me. Have you ever thought of a close friend, a lover, or someone whose name you know as, “the taller woman,” or “the dark-haired man?” Have you ever thought about YOURSELF in these terms? Probably not. I have never looked at my Real Life Romance Option and thought of him as “the brown-eyed man” or “the taller man.” I’ve also quite frankly never consciously thought of him as “my lover.” Is he all of those things? Yes. But from my POV, those are never descriptors I would use for him. Once you know a person’s name, they tend to become Their Name and not ‘Random Characteristic” in your mental picture of them.

So when you default to Random Characteristic, it’s usually the writer talking, not the character. And chances are high that the characteristic you choose to represent is not something that is important to the POV character or the scene in that moment. Therefore, is it significant enough to the reader that it clearly identifies the character, or does the reader now have to stop and think, ‘wait, which one is taller?’ So instead of eliminate confusion, you may have actually introduced more of it.

And even if it is an important detail, stating it as a fact is generally a lot less effective than making it part of the character work being done in the scene. For example:

“Can you help me reach this?” Jed asks the taller man. Leo stops chopping vegetables to oblige, and snags the wine glass the shorter man couldn’t reach off the shelf.

Vs.

Jed sighs as he makes another futile swipe with his fingers and barely grazes the bottom of the shelf. He looks over at Leo, blissfully chopping vegetables in a world where stepstools are for other people. “Can you help me reach this?” Leo sets the knife down and looms behind him, effortlessly snagging the wine glass and handing it to Jed with a grin.   

Hopefully, the second example feels more impactful than the first, because the height difference became part of the scene, and not just a descriptor cosplaying as a pronoun.

Epithets become even more distracting when they become part of a prose style rather than just a means to avoid pronoun confusion or name repetition. I see a lot of writers make the stylistic choice to have a POV character refer to themselves as an epithet right alongside the epithets being thrown around for other characters, and there are so many crammed into a paragraph or two I can’t figure out who is doing what.

At best, epithets are distracting. At their worst, they’re actively confusing when their purpose is to do the opposite.

“But Swaps, if I don’t use an epithet, how do I avoid pronoun confusion without wanting to throw myself out a window?”

This is a problem every writer contends with, whether you’re writing same gender smut, combat, or just have two people of the same gender doing things in a scene together. And unfortunately, this is one of those ways in which writing is hard. When you have some pronoun confusion in a sentence you can’t wriggle your way out of, the answer is probably to try a different sentence. Break the sentence up. Structure it differently. Finding the better sentence is part of becoming a better writer. 

If repetition is what you’re concerned about, know that just saying a character’s name and using their pronoun is okay. It’s like ‘said.’ ‘Said’ isn’t a trendy word that goes in and out of style. It’s a building block word that blends into the background. Can you get fancier than ‘said?’ Sure! But do it with purpose. Don’t be afraid to use a character’s name. It’s their name. It’s what you’re supposed to call them. Why are we fighting so hard to respect people’s names and pronouns if all we’re going to do is replace them with epithets? (Kidding. Mostly.) And if you’re using their name so much it’s interfering with readability…it’s probably time to revisit a few of those sentences and figure out what the better sentence is.

When can you use an epithet?

I joke that there are no exceptions to my There Are No Good Epithets stance, but there are. Sort of. Because rules are made to be broken, though I do believe you should understand why the rule exists before you break it, and you should break it with purpose.

Here’s the easy one.  

Epithets are useful when the POV character doesn’t know a character’s name. Now you have to use something else! And here’s the great thing about that: the epithet is now a vehicle for characterization. What about this stranger stands out enough to get the POV character’s attention? Do they notice a physical characteristic? Clothes? Attitude? What does the thing they notice say about the POV character and the character being observed?

For instance, my POV character is eavesdropping on a conversation between two people in a restaurant. You could grab the low hanging fruit and describe them as, “the brunet woman” and the “older man.” Or you could make your scene work harder. “The man with the punchable face,” or “the woman who makes eye rolling an art form.” Or how about, “the woman wearing fake pearls,” shorthanded to Fake Pearls Woman, and “the man with the name-brand suit that’s seen better days,” shorthanded to Shabby Suit. Now you’ve said something about the characters that place them in a more useful context than their hair color – you’ve said something about them that helps inform the scene, and how your POV character observes the world around them.    

Are there other instances where you can effectively use an epithet? Yes, if you are using them like this: with narrative purpose. And in those cases, is it really just an epithet anymore? It is in that yes, it is a descriptor taking the place of a name or pronoun, but it’s doing a lot more heavy lifting now. Maybe you have a character who chronically can’t remember or can’t be assed to remember people’s names. The epithet is now a means of characterization. Maybe you have a Jekyll and Hyde style character, in which a descriptor of those different personas becomes a means of setting a scene or crafting their relationship with the POV character. These descriptors are narrative vehicles being used with intention. “The other man,” is rarely a tool being used with any real intention. If there is an instance of it, I have never seen it.

Now, if reading this makes you second guess your own work, or to feel like you write wrong, or if the thought of going to painstaking lengths to rewire sentences you would typically use an epithet in gives you hives, there’s an easy solution: forget about this post.

Because fanfic is supposed to be fun. It’s your hobby. You are not getting paid for it. You don’t have to use a specific writing style, or meet anyone else’s expectations. That’s part of what makes fanfic such a beautiful thing. You can do whatever makes you happy. Not me, not anyone else. If you fucking love using epithets, use them. If you think I am made of bullshit, give this post the finger like I initially suggested and write five epithets just to spite me. No one will stop you, certainly not me. Though I will continue hating epithets, because you can’t stop me, either. XD

[mochinomnoms]

This is a very specific thing I said to my friends so if they follow your blog then they would know who I am but the whole thing of buy one get two free deal came from something that is common in my country where in local bazaars they sell these showering kits that came with shampoo, conditioner and a bottle of liquid soap my mind clearly infected with twst could only think about the octotrio being one of these packages Azul is the soap, and the twins are the shampoo and conditioner and the three of the products are wrapped with tape so you are forced to get the three which is oddly cute to me but onto the main thing!

Came up with another octotrio polycule idea since yuu represents a shrimp in Floyd's weird lenses of seeing the world sometimes if done intentionally or not you tend to clean up the twins or patch them up even fixing up their (poorly put on) uniform Jade got dirt in his face when he was in a mountain trip? Come here you careless eel and wipe out the dirt then you can talk about your new findings BUT WASH YOUR HANDS FIRST

Floyd decided to do parkour or maybe he just dumped a whole smoothie on himself because he was hot and used the drink to cool off and there you go, disinfect the wounds or scratches and putting silly cute band-aids (one time he got mad that his favorite design was out and you placed a mushroom design band aid since he still needed one, remind yourself to go stack up with the band-aids before Jade goes and sniffles about his dear brother using his favorite band-aids)

I am thinking that since the twins are a bit much more affectionate or aren't as busy as Azul is, you are doing one of your "Nurse/cleaner shirmp" (Floyd gave them the name) on one of the tweels and you guys were in Azul's office so he sighs trying to get attention he wishes that he also got his own nurse/cleaner shirmp affections if he doesn't say it out loud he can and will break his pen/ink flask and oh no! His gloves are completely ruined!! Clearly coaxing you into helping him with the mess or when he does voice his wishes about it when you two/three are present the tweels are quick to tease him about it "I thought that octopuses didn't go to cleaner shrimp stations?" or "Would you be able to provide protection in exchange? I thought that octopuses weren't predators" Okay that was rude, it is on. Of course that he can protect the shrimpy and if octopuses didn't go to cleaner shirmp stations then he would change that! Overall silliness and sweetness (They are having a discussion about planning to surprise you with a visit to the coral sea and going to visit their parents!!) they might turn almost anything into a friendly/loving competition and you are trapped in them but they are still so sweet and caring for you and each other 10/10 definitely a unique dynamic but awesome either way

(the same anon forcing their brain to fabricate more octotrio polycule ideas)

I think Floyd takes the most delight in seeing you care for them like an actual shrimp. He thinks it's endearing and will definitely make efforts to get dirty or mildly hurt so that you'll attend to him.

The other two have their own nicknames for you: Jade calls you and Azul My Pearl/Darling while Azul calls you Angelfish and the twins Dear(s).

It's Azul's way of showing affection, as he is quite reserved with his affections, at least until you're all in private. He does envy the liberal affections that the twins have with you, Floyd in particular doesn't care much about what others think, and Jade generally is more reserved than his brother, but will still give you chaste kisses when saying hello/goodbye. Azul, at most, will hold hands and maybe tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ears, something he often does during quiet moments.

It may be silly, but he gets a little jealous at seeing y'all share PDA when he's still getting used to the new dynamic. So he's coaxing you to come help him clean up! Look at his hands, they're absolutely stained with ink! Won't you please help him clean up Angelfish? 🥺

It backfires as the twins also take the opportunity to “care” for Azul. Instead of letting you fuss over him quickly, they decide that this is a sign that he's much too tired to continue working, look at the mess he made! It's time to close his office early and cuddle pile in his bedroom!! Jade's making the extra effort to run a bath in the absurdly large tub in Azul's private bathroom, while Floyd is running around collecting pillows and blankets to make a nest/fort. You do your do diligence and help Jade tend to him, causing him to get more and more flustered.

The night ends with the twins teasing the silly little octopus for wanting some tending from the shrimp. They're complaining that he never asks for affection like that from them!!! Eels can be gentle too, we promise Azul~

[dana-chan-the-control-brain]

What are your favourite TSAMS AUs?

I love @emhm It really takes advantage of the Multiverse in a way I haven't seen done in many tsams fics before. Mainly because it's not restricted by the limitations of VRchat. So they cane get really wild with dimensional travel.

Like... Cringe Moon is an Alicorn and Cringe Solar is a transformer car and they are dating? .....Sure! why not!

Solar's Moon dies and his body is repurposed as a factory default Moon and is given as a gift to the Lonely Sun who was built without a Moon?

Ruin in EMHM is an entirely different character then Tsams Ruin and he's just......... Insane? He just wants to put on a show and torture and harm everyone in the process for complete control... maybe due to the lack of control he felt in his home dimension when his control was taken from him? ......Sure, why not!

Servant Sun and Lord Eclipse in EMHM are an iconic duo. Realizing their feelings really recently and are in a committed relationship. But overall live in a utopia with little problems. The Lord struggling with his own mental health and slowly starting to realize the pull and help he can be for Suns and Eclipses that suffer in the multiverse. Also discovering that in Lord Eclipse's Dimension, the Original Sun and Moon were FAR more hostile to him then even the Prime Dimension... which is why Lord is the way he is.

It takes advantage of Dimensions not being One for one copies of eachother that I just really appreciate.

Just be sure of the ratings. Because there is one chapter that is very non-consensual oral, but every other nsfw parts are consensual. And the tag "poorly justified robot sex" is there for a reason lol.

I just like all the different takes on different Suns and Eclipses through the multiverse.

It has a very large ensemble cast and it never feels too big to me. It puts the focus on exactly what they want to, and when the plot points converge it's very satisfying.

I also really love @kuuchaos Backstage Au. It is definitely a "four main characters" fic, but it keeps it very condensed and focused on the inner thoughts of the characters.

Because it REALLY picks apart Nexus's trauma and the hypocrisy of the family in a way that is lacking for me in canon tsams. (Just due to the nature of VR and having things explained to you rather then them actually happening. NMoon was imprisoned, treated like a criminal, shocked and violated before he actually did anything wrong and I will never that that go. I still like tsams as it is, but this will be something I will scream and yell at clouds for years to come to anyone who listens lol)

Also I am damn weak for SolarMoon you know me.

While "SolarNexus" is nice. I often miss the softness that came with New Moon.

Chill says "Why not both" XD

Nexus has his trauma and his family definitely left their scars. As well as the NSP that got extracted from him. Nexus is a changed person, but he still has that venerable soft side that I loved about NMoon as a character so much. If anything, Nexus is far softer because of his trauma and experiences and the personality disorders that developed due to how everything happened.

I absolutely love their softer take on Nexus.

I also like their take on Sunset. (darksun. I swear I prefer the name Sunset and I wish it was the default, because that's what a Dark Sun IS... the Sun setting. It's perfect)

Sunset is written as a canonical sociopath, but you can tell he has a weird fondness for Nexus. As his plans around him keep changing. He used him and manipulated him, obviously. But he keeps Nexus around just as a curiosity. Nexus is like a Moon he let in his home. He almost sees having Nexus around the same novelty as being an Exotic Pet owner and it's fascinating to me and I can't wait to see how Sunset develops throughout this thing.

I also read other fics. But I'm way behind but those are like the main two I am the most confident about.

[yuurei20]

Rook Info Compilation part 20: Senses

It is often mentioned that Rook has excellent eyesight, hearing and sense of smell: he says that his eyesight is keen enough that he does not need to rely on tools like binoculars.

We see him read the text of a book from a great distance, recognize Leona from across a field while he himself is inside the school and recognize Ortho flying through the sky in the Wish Upon a Star event.

Vil says that Rook’s eyesight is “absurdly keen” and he even impresses Lilia with how well is he able to see, saying, “I am confident that my eyes are at least as keen as yours.”

Lilia observes that Rook’s hearing is just as good as his eyesight.

Rook says that “a sense of smell is a huntsman’s best friend,” which is why he dislikes scents and does not wear them unless explicitly ordered to by Vil.

When Floyd asks why he does what Vil tells him to Rook explains it is “So that I may stand by his side. He is the fairest in all the school. This is a small price to pay to appreciate his beauty from a place of honor.”

In Rook’s dorm vignette an unknown attacker ruins one of Vil’s Film Club costumes and the members of the club are quick to accuse members of Savanaclaw, as the assailant intentionally slashed the fabric with scissors in a way that was meant to imitate claw marks.

Rook alone deduces that the damage was not done by claws and is able to approximate how tall the attacker may be based on the angle at which they slashed the costume.

Rook successfully identifies the assailant (a member of the Film Club’s own costume department, who framed Savanaclaw in a fit of jealousy over how close Rook and Epel are to Vil), claiming that he realized the destroyed costume was fake based on how poorly it was sewn.

The costumer volunteers to quit the club as punishment for what he did, but Rook insists that he atone for his crimes by continuing to contribute.

Epel compliments Rook on being able to tell that the costume was a fake by looking at it and Rook reveals that that had been a lie: he had been able to tell by the scent. As the fake costume hadn’t smelled of Vil’s unique cologne, he’d known it wasn’t real.

Rook teases Epel about guessing what he had for lunch on scent alone, only to say, “Not even my sense of smell is as keen as that,” revealing it was a joke.

(This line was rewritten on EN into “I am a man, not a bloodhound,” but there is a theory that Rook may not actually be human, and in the original game he has never claimed to be.)

Rook says that he has excellent stamina (which Vil confirms) and he is also able to tell how long he has been asleep within a 10-minute margin of error. (“Learning to assess how long you’ve been aware of your surroundings is essential for any huntsman.”)

Rook is also able to detect when Silver tries to hide himself during Spectral Soiree, despite all the training Silver has received as a guardsman.

[the-fiction-witch]

The Wombles

Media - The Goldfinch Character - Boris Pavlikovsky (Age Up) Couple - Boris X Reader Reader - Y/n Y/l/N Rating - 17 (Drugs / Drug uses / swearing / sexual references) Word Count - 935

Boris had done… some substance, frankly, he'd consumed so many various things in the last twenty-four hours he wasn't even confident he was on earth anymore. He vaguely remembers smoking weed with Theo… he kinda thought he had some beers…. maybe snorted some crushed up Vicodins? maybe? He really wasn't too sure.

He'd lost track of Theo somewhere on his grand adventure, and after several hours wandering and having hallucinations of wombles trying to recruit him as a breeding slave. He ended up where he so often ends up when high… at the door of Y/n Y/L/N.

Y/n had long been in bed when she was woken by someone picking her lock. Immediately, she grabbed a kitchen knife and went out of her house in her shorts and crop top. She spotted a figure looking through her cupboards and flicked on the light to surprise them.

“Ahhhhhh!” Boris hissed like a rageful kitten,

But of course immediately relaxed when she saw it was just Boris licking her vanilla wafers. "Oh… It's just you." She sighed,

"Shhhh." he turns and looks at her, face serious. The pupils in his eyes were almost completely dilated, to the point they were nearly black.

“Boris Pavlikovsky, you are… a goddamn creature.” She sighed,

"There are wombles in here," he said in a hushed tone,

"mhm… Wombles." She nodded, setting the knife down and leaning on her counter. "Where are these wombles?" She smiled, biting back laughter,

"They're in the walls. Can't you hear them chanting?" he said, his tone making it clear he completely believed what he was saying.

"Oh? Yes… of course. It's so loud…Why are they chanting? What do they want, Boris?" She asked, enjoying Boris's delusional rambling.

"They're trying to make me their breeding slave. They want to drag me down to the tunnels and steal all the semen from my cock! They want to harvest my genetics for their army!"

“They want to… make you a breeding slave? The wombles?”

“Yes!”

“… they’ll take all my semen.”

“Right… how are they going to do that?”

“With their womble magic! Obviously!”

"Yes, of course. I mean, who wouldn't want your generics?" She joked.

“You must help me! Help me to hide! Or they’ll build an army and overthrow the government.”

“Yes, yes, of course we need to keep you safe,” she nodded, "Do you think I'm safe? Will they come for me, too? Or do they just want you?"

Boris had to actually think about that. He looked over her carefully, seriously inspecting her. "They might want to breed you," he said after a moment.

“Might they?”

Thinking for a moment longer before nodding. "Yeah, they'd want you. You're soft and good for breeding," he said,

"Oh, am I now?" She laughed.

“Or… they’ll come for us both! Drag us away and force us to mate…” He said, coming closer and licking his lips, "That's why they are chanting… they are trying to make us Mate."

"Ohh my," she fake gasped, "Well, we better not listen,"

"The magic crackers will stop them!" He encourages trying to give her a waffer,

"Yes, I will have to have my magic cracker," she nodded, taking one and setting it on the counter.

"They wanna drag us away, Y/n… for the armies!"

"Well then, you best stay here and protect me."

Boris nodded firmly. "Of course. Can't let the wombles breed you, it'd ruin the shape of that pretty body of yours."

"You are very sweet to keep me safe, Boris." She smiled, slowly taking the wafers away and pulling him into her arms, literally picking him up. "Come on, let's get somewhere safe from the wombles."

He wrapped his arms around her neck, clinging to her without any resistance. "Where are we going, pretty lady?"

"We're going somewhere safe," She smiled, taking Boris up to her bedroom and sitting him gently on her bed. "See this room as thick, heavy walls with iron inside them, and wombles can't eat iron, can they? It gives them poorly tummies." She made up on the spot, but of course… it worked.

“Iron in the walls… of course.” Boris looked around the room carefully, inspecting the walls and the floors. "You're sure they can't get in here?"

"I'm sure. But just to make sure." She smiled, grabbing a plastic wand from her Halloween costume last year, "This is a very special magic wand, it has the power to keep wombles away."

Boris stared at the wand in awe, wide-eyed like a five-year-old staring at Christmas lights for the first time. "Can I hold the magic wand?" he asked, looking at her with wide, pleading eyes.

"Yes, of course, Boris, you make sure to hold it and keep us both safe, okay?"

He clutched it close to his chest, "I will! I'll keep the wombles away, pretty lady!”

"Every womble you keep away, Boris, you get one kiss in the morning."

He nodded, "Yes Madam! I will be the best womble protector ever!"

"Good, I'm sure you'll do a fantastic job." She nodded, climbing into bed.

Boris quickly crawled under the covers before snuggling up close to her, his arms around her waist and his face pressed into her chest. He had already completely abandoned all sense of personal space, wanting to be as close to her as physically possible. "Gonna keep you safe, pretty lady," he mumbled against her,

Y/n nodded and soon fell asleep again.

It took Boris a few moments longer to fall asleep, he was running on nearly thirty hours of being awake and having ingested copious amounts of various substances. Still, he eventually fell asleep, cuddled up close to her, his arms still holding her like a lifeline, the magic wand still clutched in one hand.

[tossball-stick]

personal kieran headcanons 😋

tagging: @aintan0driscollnomore

hiii im here to ramble about my kieran hcs. these r all my personal ones. i hope u enjoy :3

i am not gonna he/him this guy for the whole post so first things first to get it out of the way: i think shes trans!! yeah i think shes a trans woman who just hasnt realized yet. a long life of hardship has left her in a perpetual state of "im probably actually a woman but im going through life ruining trauma so i cant deal with that rn"

therefore....... i think her spending more time with the women is to be one of the girls. its the closest shes gotten, im sure, im sure its probably the first time shes even properly been around women, socially, in years, even.

i like to think her and bill eventually start warming up to each other. a shared history in the army makes her sympathetic towards him, to a degree. i can imagine her listening to him pour his heart and soul out about dutch and feel a little bad for him. especially the closer she gets to the ladies, the more of a safe space she has away from bill, should she desire. it works out.

before the vdl gang very rudely starved her, she was actually a little thick around the middle. in aus where shes allowed to eat reguluarly for a good while, i think she needs to fill back out

i think shes flat out lying about how significant her role with the o'driscolls was. i think she was actually pretty notable in the gang, maybe even being close to colm. other posts have explained this much better than i could dream to.

i also think she doesnt exactly hate outlaw life!! people often forget thst her time in the army "didnt end well," and that after the army she joined another gang that later abandoned her. she seems to lean towards gang life, as well as horse management. interesting!

while she actively pursues mary-beth for the most part, i think she has crushes on most of the other ladies. i think she'd even admit grimshaw is mighty pretty for her age, and that she'd be fooled to find out grimshaw was as old as she was.

very inexperienced with dating. just has never really been around women much, as i ssid before.

i think she has a bitter crush on arthur. gets all huffy about finding him handsome. maybe has asked him for a dance while drunk once. i like to think he obliged her but realistically i doubt it

i think "fishing" is moreso just an excuse to look out at nature and enjoy it, as well as an excuse to ride around on branwen, though dont get me wrong, i still think its one of the few connections she has left with her father.

i think in an ideal world sean would be her outlet to have the childhood she never quite got. based on their campfire interactions, despite the violence, they seem to think not poorly of each other. irish immigrants 🤝

i think shes a bit more cruel and tricksy than people give her credit for, but i dont think shes a horrible person or anything. shes done bad bad things. she doesnt feel good about much of it i imagine. i think her phrasing of "the o'driscolls gave me a choice: ride with them or die" as more along the lines of how the vdl gang members view dutch as having saved their life yknow. kiersn only went to the o'driscolls for food and safety to survive, otherwise she might not have had any.

i think she would tbh respect pearson!! she isnt sick of his navy stories like the rest of the vdl gang is, and the navy is highly respected amongst the rest of the military. i think she would humor him a little. plus, he feeds her. a+ in kierans book.

[walkergirlsposts]

https://www.tumblr.com/walkergirlsposts/772523580964667392/httpswwwtumblrcomcarolinagirl807724961819190?source=share

You have all provided great examples refuting that anon's claims, as they should be refuted because that anon is just repeating things from the standard AA/Heller checklist to try and claim that JP/J2 fans are the worstest ever ( with no receipts, of course), but I will share that there was one death threat towards Jensen after Rust. But, what anon either doesn't know (because they don't bother to research the facts behind the claim) or would rather ignore facts, is that the person making that death threat, despite claiming to be a Jared fan, was not followed by any Jared fans, nor did any Jared fans interact or support that person. In addition, as soon as Jared fans saw they threat, they reported the account en masse, and helped get the account deleted.

Now, if anon wants to compare death threats, we can take one (supposedly Jared fan threat) versus the massive litany of threats against Jared, often for no other reason than existing. Some, as recently as four months ago.

https://x.com/Sam_Maddy/status/1828883140825223184

And what happens to those people threatening Jared? Do those accounts get reported by other AAs and/or Hellers? No... they get more likes and reblogs. So that anon can miss me with their fake rage.

As to Jensen's comments about the crew on Rust, yes, he did call them whiny bitches, but it wasn't over coffee and drinks. It was the for multiple reasons including housing, but more importantly about safety concerns, for which they had, unfortunately, as we found out, a legitimated reason. https://thehill.com/blogs/in-the-know/in-the-know/578190-camera-crew-walked-off-job-to-protest-safety-concerns-on-alec/

I mean, just how bad did it have to be to have crew members walk off the set? How often has anon heard of that happening on any other set? i can only imagine how bad it was and Jensen's dismissal of their feelings definitely contradicts all the times he talks in conventions about treating everyone on set well, including the crew. (We also saw how poorly he thought of The Winchester cast when he told them not to F*#^ it up for him, or the fact that they had to work while deathly sick (link no longer available... wonder why), or the fact that one of the crew members almost died from a lightning strike. https://www.hollywoodreporter.com/business/business-news/lightning-strike-winchesters-lawsuit-1235580457/)

If anon would like to debate their claims further, I'm ready for them.

Right, in regards to any death threats towards Jensen, there's always hundreds more directed at Jared. Hell, even with his car accident he had people wishing him to die. When the show ended and he was cast to lead Walker??? Hundreds of death threats because how dare he end the show so they don't get destiel. When he said SPN wasn't about romance?? Again, hundreds of death threats towards him all done by hellers. So anon can spare me the one or two Jensen might get. When he gets hundreds then you can come back to us crying.

And as for why the crew walked off?? It was pretty bad. They cited the reasons as no pay, no accomodations, many had to sleep in their cars, they heard explosions going off sporadically, it was a very unsafe set to work in.

But like I always say. Come at us when Jensen has hundreds of threats and anyone trying to ruin his reputation, then we can talk.

[beevean]

Re: the shadamy opinion, you're completely correct and yeah it could be done correct, but the way it gets portrayed often even without shitting on Sonic's character they're just so painfully boring and one dimensional. Like the characters are just watered down to these tropes and just ughhhhh I just think there's far more interesting choices for both characters, and them being friends is just better imo

You don't have to respond, just wanted to share me thots ^^

My general policy on ships is that a good writer, one who understands the characters and the subtleties of their dynamic and knows how to exploit untapped potential, can make a compelling case for any ship.

And in the reverse, a poorly-written "manifesto" that is clearly the writer shoehorning the characters into an unfitting dynamic can ruin it all :P even worse when other characters are bashed, a common mistake.

I still am not interested in Shadamy because, well, I like Sonic more than Shadow lol. And I will always vouch for Sonamy's untapped potential that goes beyond "Sonic becomes a blushing stuttering mess once he realizes he loves Amy and at long last he makes her happy". But I would never dismiss the whole concept as a whole, just the worst way it can be elaborated which I happened to see personally. For example, are there fics that don't treat Amy as Maria 2.0, but remember that she's quite spunky and impatient and way too energetic for Shadow's introverted self? I hope so :P

[tmf-confessions]

I love Lander despite hating episode 5, it feels pretty unnecessary, it's poorly written, I think it's an episode Rosy made mostly for self indulgence at The time... I'd cut the episode entirely and I feel as though Luke rejecting Zander or something would just regress him if anything and he'd just continue to distance himself. It could maybe work if another character to step in and confront him about being avoidant, Jake or Luke himself most likely... But it isn't ideal for me personally because I'm Lander-poisoned lawl

I think the best chance to have explored Zander's abandonment and how it still makes him feel today would be episode 10, right after Jake is kicked out. I overall wish we got to see the perspective of other characters (Outside of mostly Jake but also sort of Hailey) more in general but especially after heating the audio. The part that interests me most about Zander and Jake's relationship is how weary I'm sure Jake makes Zander feel, I'd really like to see Zander dealing what is (seemingly) all his fears regarding Jake coming true... I'd like to see him actually cry instead of just holding it in like in the hallway scene, (But I'd also like to see both! Him holding back and acting tough before letting go would increase the impact of course... ☆- >_▪︎) and if Zander really is fine with Jake back in the club; I'd like to have seen his perspective there also explained because I feel like his refusal and fear around accepting Jake into the club was very important and it'd make sense to reflect upon something pretty important for him in the first few episodes again in the last.

I think most characters outside of Hailey and Jake are a little to very lacking because we don't get to see their perspective much. The other TMC member's respective episodes 2-7 are even pretty weak, if you ask me... Milly's episode introduces her well but she doesn't exactly grow any, Luke isn't doing much but moping in his, Lander's is again poorly written/does nothing story-wise, and Sean barely features in his and you're only *told* that his music is important to him and his parent's argue a lot. (Show not tell, Rosy!)

Zander's also introduces him pretty well, definitely made him think about why Jake would go out of his way to help them out if he were just trying to ruin something in the end, and there is a noticeable difference in how he acts after but I still feel like after this his feelings towards Jake aren't explored as well/often as I'd expect when I feel like it was a bit important at the start that Zander didn't exactly feel comfortable around him.

I can maybe imagine a way that uses the both of them to help Zander's character though... Any issues I had with s1 regarding Zander's character has already be done though so... I think in season 2, I do NOT want for the finale to have entirely erased Zander's cautious behavior around Jake (Please, God. T_T) Luke obviously wants to be gentle and kind to his boyfriend doesn't seem unable to tell him when he's being unhelpful/acting poorly. I want Jake to do something(? Not sure what, but something that might not exactly seem like as big a deal to the others as it is for Zander. Maybe something to do with Hailey as well because Luke/Zander/Jake seem to be some of his most important relationships story-wise.) that makes Zander act out a bit and for Luke to maybe confront him about it? He'll want to resort to the usual, getting angry/running away but of course since it's Luke confronting him he'll actually think about why that sort of thing doesn't actually help him in the long run.

I like Zander best so this is all mostly about him... But I do like Luke a lot too!!! His writing issues are just a bit different, Zander has quite a bit more going on than him but ultimately none of it is explored it depth. Luke just doesn't seem to do much at all in the present. The most story-important things I can think of him doing is that I feel like it's definitely implied from the seasons MV that Luke helps Zander push him out of his shell and has been doing so since they were kids, and he also tells Jake about Hailey's stage fright? Obviously your characters should aid eachother's growth but Luke barely does that and he still doesn't do much else... I will meditate on the idea and think more about what sort of thing I think will improve his character outside of the usual "just separate him and Zander" and not the very obvious "make him actually do something"

Very long submission again and I think I also might be a bit repetitive here... Sorry and please ignore any typos

confession #661

[mullermilkshake]

The hunted becomes the hunter.

You trapped him, it should stay like that.

Oh Sangwoo x Fem! Reader References to non con/ Rape,Imprisonment,References to torture and abuse,Gun,Knives

<<< For more Sangwoo content, click this link to go back to the Masterlist! >>>

“You bitch! You’re gonna regret it when I get out of this shit. You won’t be so smug when I skull fuck you!”

At last, Oh Sangwoo was getting his comeuppance.

The rattle of chains never sounded so sweet. Metal upon scraping metal on concrete and the oh so sensual gasps of frustration as you were just out of Sangwoo’s grasp.

The bastard.

He really thought he was clever, intelligent. But there was a pitfall he incurred when he decided to cross you, take you away and break your fucking legs. They still had not healed properly, often resulting in a shooting pain straight up through your hip that would most probably never go.

What an idiot. A fucking monster.

“You won’t be hurting anyone anymore Sangwoo. Poor Yoon Bum is beside himself.” The poor guy was upstairs sleeping.

You had finally gotten his dosage right. He wouldn’t know about of any of this.

Well, this only seemed to fuel Sangwoo’s venomous fury. “Take his name out of your fucking mouth! I knew I should have fucking killed oy when I had the chance.”

Leaning forward, you got as close as your fight or flight response was willing to allow. “You’re never getting out of here… but don’t worry, I’ll take good care of him.”

Sangwoo lunged like a rabid animal caged forever and was getting desperate to get his teeth in your jugular. “Don’t you fucking touch him, he’s mine!”

For a moment you got it, a miniscule moment you understood why Sangwoo did this to others. To see them struggle and plead and beg for their life or cry that it all wasn't fair. There were copious amounts of endless surges of power you could grasp at and clutch to keep all to yourself.

“Not anymore. He’s his own man and you won’t hurt him again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Seeing Oh Sangwoo like this almost made up for a fraction of what he did to you. Though to add insult to injury, you had brought down a lovely cd player just for him.

“But, while we get on with our lives, I have something special for you.” The cd of his favourite song. “You can listen to it over and over down here without anyone to disturb you. I know you hate ‘loud’ things. Wouldn’t want another human to ruin the chilled vibe down here.”

Slipping the disk in, you pressed play and left it well out of his reach and proceeded to make your way upstairs. “You’ll get food when I decide and there's no need for light down here anymore. I’d hate for the light to ruin the mood as well. Y’know… seeing the mouldy bricks and blood splatters on the walls can really bring the mood down when you’re trying to get off. So I’ll turn it off; no need to thank me.” 

“You fucking cunt!” You ignored his childish names and spit from his lips. He couldn’t hurt you anymore either.

He continued screaming and yelling until you were up the stairs, struggling to climb them after the damage he’d done, but when the door to the basement closed, the massive weight from your shoulders sunk over your chest.

It was over.

You didn’t need to tiptoe down the hallway anymore, double take whenever there was a dark shape in the corner of the room that revealed to only be a bathrobe or poorly folded towel. There was no need to eye the bathroom door whenever you took a shower just in case Sangwoo came bursting in to touch you or mark your wet soapy skin so that it stuck.

It was all over.

Yoon Bum was difficult to instruct at first, acting suspicious enough each time he was near the basement door, still opting for the closet to sleep in, but as days went on, he was gradually beginning to believe that Sangwoo had left and that the futon was safe enough to sleep on. You kept the basement padlocked too, Bum was never allowed to go down there again and all you did was disguise it under the guise of a healing exercise that he would never be subjected to that awful room ever again.

So far, it worked. But you always took the key with you no matter when you went just to be sure.

The music disguised Sangwoo’s harsh words when you went down there, using the excuse to be down there and ‘heal’ to go and sort the monster downstairs so that he wouldn’t starve. 

Each time you were berated as you expected, and each time his threats grew more deranged and concerning. You however, did not show him that concern, and only gave him his food and water and left without saying one word to him, listening to his favourite song over and over and over.

At some point, it was going to make him mad, more than he already was.

And you found that out one day when for some bizarre fucking reason, Bum was able to get the padlock from the basement door and venture down there to find Sangwoo in his own shit and crazed thoughts once the music was turned off.

So what did Sangwoo do? Lock Bum down there and wait for you to come home.

“Hey Bum, I’m home.” You knew something wasn’t right the second the front door closed.

You placed the groceries down by the front door and waited for his response. Nothing. Call it the prey response or whatever, a deer could sense and smell who was upwind from them, telling them just from the breeze that danger was near.

Danger was near.

“Bum?” You called again, slipping your shoes off so achingly slow as to not make a sound of agitated movement.

Your heart throbbed in your neck practically choking you to go and find out why Bum was not answering you. By now, he would have crawled out of a small nook somewhere, with a timid little smile happily laying across his cheek and questions of how your day went before a sit down and tea.

Bum was not here.

“Bum…” There were precautions you took the liberty of creating should Sangwoo ever get out, but you did not anticipate it would be this quickly.

It was unfortunate, and if you turned your back just now to get back through the front door, Sangwoo would have had your head, because right in the corner of the living area to your left, he was there, waiting for you to cross the threshold and walk past towards the kitchen unawares.

The thing about prey was that prey had eyes in the back of their heads, ready to see in one hundred and eighty degrees to ensure prey never got the jump on them. And Oh Sangwoo was crouched right there in your periphery.

You didn’t know how, but you managed to act natural and make your way towards the kitchen without scrambling straight over to the cutlery drawer. You kept screaming to yourself that you mustn’t run.

Prey ran.

Then, you got to the kitchen and waited there, you sensed his presence, his natural smell you had spent so long memorising that you doubted you’d ever forget it.

Should you call the police? Maybe Seungbae would help you and Bum out again and arrest Sangwoo for good? Perhaps. Would you get a chance to tap even one digit on the phone screen before your throat was inevitably cut? Definitely not.

Pretending you were busy could only get you so far. Calming your nerves and preparing not to jump the gun. Swing too early with the knife from the block and there was enough space for Sangwoo to get the jump and use his height difference to his own advantage.

Swing too late and he’d have his tendrilled arms wrapped around you in an instant before you even made a solid choice for your body to follow. He would have you pinned quicker than you could blink.

Moving just at the right time gave you a chance to either leave through the front door that by now, was probably locked though you hadn’t heard it click. Or you could run upstairs and use the tools you provided yourself for protection until you could call the police and get him away from you for good.

Because who would believe Oh Sangwoo that you had imprisoned him and forced him to live in his own shit.

One… fiddle with the knife.

Two… grasp it firmly.

Three… Swing like your fucking life depended on it. 

Because it did.

And Sangwoo was so close when you finally turned. “Fuck you!” And one perfectly placed defensive wound on his arm was enough to stun him momentarily.

As you ran past, you kept the knife close and yanked at the front door, which was as predicted, locked and Sagowoo was already on you, trailing behind with the most fucked toothy grin you had ever seen.

“Honey. You’re home. All I wanted to do was surprise you!” Arms out wide as though he would bear hug you.

So you backed up the stairs, taking one step with the knife pointed out away from you. “Back the fuck up. I’m not going back down in that basement… What did you do with Bum?”

“He let me out, which is more than you ever fucking did, and now he’s down there experiencing an ounce of what you put me through. But he’ll have company soon enough.”

You should have broken his stupid legs, at least then he would have been half as dangerous if he couldn’t move faster than a snail.

Another step, and another. “I told you, I’m not going down there.” He’d have to kill you. You were sure that was the length you’d go to.

“Oh you are, and we’ll have fun too.” He took another step closer, licking his lips hungrily. “I did tell you I was gonna skull fuck you… it’s all I’ve been thinking about honey. Won’t you make me the luckiest man in the world and lay down for me?”

“No. I won’t anymore.” As soon as you were at the top of the stairs, it triggered a motion in him to make him dart towards you, and you barely made it into the next room to lock it.

“What’s this, you bought a lock? You can’t go renovating the house all by yourself sweetheart, it has to be a unilateral decision. After all ain’t that what couples do?!” Deafening thuds ripped through the small box room, you rummaged through the boxes and pulled out the gun you had brought home from buying it illegally.

You shook and trembled, ensuring it was loaded and ready to fire. “Don’t come in here or I swear I’ll hurt you!”

“No. You won’t do that. Y’know why? Because you’re all I’ve been thinkin’ about and I'm all you have. Maybe we can go outside and show everyone who you belong to before I put my cock down your throat!” So much hatred and vitriol. You had really fucked up not breaking his legs.

“Just leave me alone Sangwoo, I mean it!” Covering your ears helped a little, but not much.

Until the banging stopped for just a moment, long enough to focus your attention on it and tiptoe to the door to listen if he was still on the other side, or had gone away to look for another way to get in.

Your fingers wrapped around the butt of the gun tightly, like your fight instinct had taken over enough to allow yourself to actually do it. You would kill him because that’s what was needed to end this.

It was entirely possible that you would kill him. You could do it, for Yoon Bum.

For Yoon Bum.

What Sangwoo had done was lure you into false security for only a spilt second, that's all it took. The door fell through under his foot and knocked you out of the way right onto the floor, because he was that much stronger than you.

But you had a gun.

A gun which he managed to wrangle off of you without much hassle at all.

“No!”

“You handle a gun well, Honey. Why don’t we see how you handle my cock too. It’s the same size. Show me how good you are and maybe I won’t put you in the basement with that little bitch down there.”

You were going to decline either way, because no matter what you did, he would still put you down in the basement regardless.

Despite how much you worked to curb his aggression and keep him locked away so that he couldn’t hurt anyone. Oh Sangwoo was a monster who couldn’t be caged.

And you were going to find out the hard way.

DISCLAIMER - Crossposted from my AO3 - I do not own any of the characters or anything from the Manhwa e.g. images. This is a work of fan fiction and is absolutely not representative of the views or intentions of the original creator(s).

Also please don’t post any of my work without permission thank you!