#This idea is a bit dubious but fantastic!

[the-genius-az]

I can imagine an au where it's a swap au....but the ONLY difference is that zuko killed his dad after he burned his face and became firelord and like, cats out his sister ir whatever

That is the only difference, only azula and zuko switch places, I mean I guess it'd also affect others things but it'd be pretty much the same jsut Mai and Ty Lee less willing, maybe Zuko gets a redemption arc, whatever

....that actually makes kinda a cool au- anyways!!

Azula x Katara in this au because she could totally get a crush and once she has an object of affection she's not letting ago

She probably wouldn't be as like, forceful or possessive, but she definitely would try and win Katara over, intense courting so to speak

Wether or not this is omegaverse is up to you, works either way, omega azula x alpha katara

Thank you for this, @thesupernaturalhouse!

But the ONLY difference is that zuko killed his dad after he burned his face and became firelord and like, cats out his sister ir whatever.

How could Zuko kill Ozai? He was thirteen years old when the Agni Kai happened.

Get Azula out? Simply for their eggs? Just because I wanted to?

Maybe Zuko gets a redemption arc, whatever.

I don't think so, Zuko would be like another Ozai but without "mercy".

Not that Ozai has it, but at least he didn't throw his brother out just because he wanted to.

She probably wouldn't be as like, forceful or possessive, but she definitely would try and win Katara over, intense courting so to speak.

Azula will either be very possessive or she won't be, end of story.

An intense courtship! how I like those, Azula will definitely woo Katara perfectly!

Wether or not this is omegaverse is up to you, works either way, omega azula x alpha katara.

Azula Omega courting Katara Alpha!

I like that idea! Fire royalty probably has a more exotic courtship.

Maybe Azula has to burn Katara's clothes and give her new clothes with her pheromones.

[arcanarix]

The Helpless -- G. Suguru X Fem! Non Sorcerer Reader

Summary:

You, a passionate graduate student, encourage the priest Suguru Geto to appear as a guest lecturer to one of the classes you assist teaching. Little do you know, that small, seemingly unimportant decision changes the entire trajectory of your life.

Word Count: 13.2K

Warnings: Yandere, Yandere Getou Suguru, cunnilingus, a reader who can see curses, a reader who is a graduate student, hands free orgasm, dubious consent

AO3

It’s one thing to be a regular-degular everyday gal slaving away in academics.

It’s a whole other beast when you’re a regular-degular gal who, not only takes up an ungodly workload for your last Master’s semester, but you also decide to TA a few classes as well. But that’s not all! Did you mention you have other burdens you’re certain no one else in your world carries? Being able to…see things.

You’ve come to accept that seeing things is just as natural as breathing, at least, for someone like you. It’s why you’ve come to develop a sense of empathy for those unaware they’ve been afflicted, especially fellow students or the faculty around here. Or people you just pass by on your commute to class. There’s not much you can do, except give them some reassurance. There’s nothing more you can do, than to be a bit more lenient with students on their grades when their performance is has slipped. Whether from the things they’ve been afflicted by that only you can see, or for some other humane reason, like family problems, or personal problems.

You don’t remember when this curse of sight began. You’re not aware of anyone else in your family who struggles with this particular unique issue, either. While many take the old adage “fighting your inner demons��� as just that, a figure of speech, you’ve come to learn that it’s a quite literal thing.

Humans manifest their own troubles.

It’s an early day for you. 7AM you’re lecturing one of your previous courses, Philosophy and Contemporary Thought. It’s nothing new for you, but it will be new to this new set of students, and you hope you shed some light on the topic in today’s lecture to these bright minds. It’s what you live to do now. You’re certain after you graduate that you’ll pursue a PHD in Philosophy.

While you still have another hour until the lecture begins, you have been writing on the whiteboard a high-level overview of the topic. Absurdism, Nihilism, and Existentialism. All fantastic topics in their own rights, and you might have a little too much passion when discussing them to the professor which typically lectures this class. In fact, at one point, you even bring up the idea of bringing in some guest lecturers, which the professor is delighted to do for you.

When you bring up who you want as the next guest lecturer, the professor is understandably a little uncertain given the organization’s ambiguous reputation. You suggest the leader of the Star Religious Group, Suguru Geto, a priest infamous for preaching about the current state of society to his followers and devotees. You think it might be an eye-opening experience for young minds. Not that you agree with a lot of his ideologies, but it is always good to go in with an open mind. Even if such ideologies might seem completely out there.

What’s more shocking to you is a new e-mail notification which is from the devil you know, Suguru Geto, you see when you toss your head over your shoulder in the middle of writing another bullet point on the board; the marker squeaking against it from the force. You dash back to your desk and podium, scanning the reply’s contents. Your eyes light up with delight! He’s pleased with the invitation and is happy to engage young minds, just as you are!

You crack your knuckles and draft a reply before hitting send. You then glance at the clock which reads 7:45AM. You have 15 more minutes to prepare the class and also make such a delightful announcement!

His reply is as quick as yours. Your eyes widen in shock from the last line.

‘Would it be bold of me to request to discuss this over some coffee or dinner? I’d like to meet you sometime before the day I’m scheduled to lecture.

Best Wishes,

Suguru Geto’

He doesn’t have to ask you twice! You grin as your hands spring back to life drafting another reply. All you can say is yes, yes, yes! If that means the possibility of more opportunities for exposure to other ideologies, then what’s the issue? You don’t see any!

Your pinky hits enter when you shoot the response back. And just in time, some of your students pour into the large seminar room. You don’t ignore the little curses latched onto some of them, ignoring the twinge of sympathy in your chest. You can deal with that later, however you can. You just know to remember the names attached to those faces when you go to grade their assignments.

They don’t need added stress. While you aren’t sure what to do with the curse of sight, it at least makes it easier for you to be kind.

And sometimes, that’s the hardest thing to be in a world like this. Where humans are the cause of their own suffering.

“Good morning,” you greet with a little pep in your voice, hoping to wake up those dreary faces. Yes, it’s early. Yes, there’s probably a million things these students would rather be doing than attend an 8AM 90-minute lecture. But these young minds are troopers for showing up, anyway; you always remind them it’s easier to do nothing.

Some students who have entered the class acknowledge you with a nod or a strained smile. Some of them with the curses latching onto them. They seem so tired. Only you can see that but to everyone else, they seem normal.

More of your students begin to pour into the grand lecture hall, and you grin. 5 more minutes.

“Take a glance and what’s on the board, and let me just turn on the big screens…” you trail off as you do just as you promise. The two huge overhead screens project your computer screen with the PowerPoint you prepared at the ready. “…I’m lecturing today in place of the professor who is away for the week.”

You do hear some students murmuring amongst themselves before the clock strikes 8AM, thus having you begin. The murmurs quiet down as you gesture for the students to direct their focus on you as you begin rambling away on some of your favorite topics ever.

And perhaps the greatest gift of all for you, is the fact that they still seem engaged in spite of their exhaustion. You have to give yourself a pat on the back for that one. It means you’re doing something right!

After the lecture ends, you return to your dorm and pull up your email for any other responses from Geto. To your delight, he has responded with more of his contact information. Instead of his professional phone number, he provides his personal. It’s still a bright beautiful day for you to conquer but you have some evening lectures to attend. You take advantage of the time to catch up on your own assignments and grading work from other classes you TA.

You do seem a bit desperate, but hey! It’s all for the sake of education, after all!

Dialing the number, you wait. You hear the other line click.

“Yes?” comes a smooth voice over the line. You exhale, calming your nerves the best you can in that moment. You can’t help it! All of this anticipation is killing you, but in a good way and not the undesirable way.

“Hello,” you begin, still a bit nervous (and, duh, excited) at the prospect of meeting such a famed priest. Even if he is a nutjob, that somehow makes him even more fascinating. “Am I speaking with Suguru Geto?”

“Yes. Are you the TA at Tokyo University, that I’ve spoken to just a bit ago?”

You answer with a bit too much enthusiasm in your voice. “Yes, that’s me! Thank you for your time with my students. I’m sure they’ll love to hear your perspective in class.”

“Of course,” he replies in a low murmur. “I am more than happy to provide my insights for the sake of furthering education. So, I’m set to lecture next week? Would you like to grab some dinner before then?”

“I’d love to,” you breathe, your heartrate increasing by the passing second. Why are you acting like this? You’re acting like a shriveling schoolgirl trying to impress your senpai! This can’t be real. “What days are you free?”

“I can free up my schedule, but yours is far more rigid than mine, I expect. So what day works best for you?”

“Hm…how does Sunday evening sound?” That’s the only day you’re ever truly free. It’s usually the day you use to reset your week, but you can get all of that out of the way before the evening, anyway! It’ll be a nice way to cap it all off.

“Excellent. I’ll give you the details to this restaurant my family likes to go to. I’ll come pick you up that day.”

Oh, you can feel the excitement seeping into your bones and searing them like acid. You can’t help it—anything that expands your knowledge, anything that gets your gears moving in that huge noggin’ of yours? That’s worth being excited about, for sure!

Though you have to admit, it feels a little too easy. You doubt he wants to discuss anything beyond the lectures and what kind of tidbits to feed to students, You don’t claim yourself to be a mind-reader, either, but judging from the tone of his voice…he seems just as eager as you to meet. Unless you’re just playing on some wishful thinking, because you’re just that damn naïve sometimes and you can’t help but let your imagination run a little wild.

You don’t realize you’ve not responded until you hear Geto clearing his throat over the line.

“Miss?” you hear him inquire, concern laden in his tone. You flush a bit, embarrassed by how long you kept him in this call when he has his own agenda to follow after this. You shouldn’t waste his time any more than you already have.

“Sorry, got lost in thought for a moment,” you chuckle, as your eyes roll upward. “Yes, that sounds perfect. I can’t wait to meet with you.”

A long, reflective silence stretches over the two of you, and then:

“And I, you. Until then.”

Click.

Oh, the anticipation! And it’s already Friday, so you have to make sure you give your best foot forward and the greatest first impression. After all, you don’t want someone like him to think that you neglect yourself in favor of furthering your students’ education? Even if in some cases that might be admirable, you don’t want to seem like you don’t take care of yourself.

Especially since you’ve caught wind of quite a bit of gossip around Suguru Geto. That he’s the handsomest devil people have ever seen, and that people join his organization for the sole reason that he’s beautiful eye candy. You wonder how that’s going to turn out for you. You can’t help it; you get as excited over men as you do over education, and you’re not exempt from desiring some kind of connection. You’re only human in the end.

It's simply human nature to desire connectedness. Heh. It’s part of why humans strive to join communities, who share similar values, mindsets…isn’t that why he’s lead Star Religious Group over the years? Isn’t that why you decided to pursue a degree on Philosophy, to seek an understanding on the human condition?

“Great, now I have to figure out what to wear…” you muse out loud as your gaze flits to your tiny ass closet. With hardly anything too fancy because you strive for comfort sitting through long, long, looooong lectures and instructing them. Nobody cares about fashion sense in higher education, anyway, at least on schoolgrounds.

You almost wish you’ve packed some nicer things for occasions such as these, though. It’s important to make a great first impression.

The dorms at Tokyo University aren’t the most pleasant. They’re all cramped up and feel isolating, even—more like especially—the single dorms. You’re lucky enough to nab one yourself. All you’re provided is a closet, a bathroom that connects to the neighbor’s, and a small bed. And a desk. Just standard, cramped up, uncomfy at best. Even if you give it a touch that shows off your sparkling personality, it doesn’t change the fact that it’s…just small.

Not in a cozy way. So far from a cozy way.

“What to wear, what to wear…” you muse out loud again, sliding open your bamboo closet to reveal…a very dull set of capsule clothes. You wish you didn’t listen to those influencers online, because how the hell are you going to style any of these basic, boring clothes? And why are you deciding upon this two nights before meeting with Geto? Oh, right. You’re hoping to get his attention somehow.

Because you’re a lonely piece of shit.

You don’t even know what he’s like. Not really. You have seen some pictures, and the rumors hold true: he’s jaw-droppingly handsome. Like, holy hell, you want to take his pants off right then and there and show him a good time on the fucking spot type of handsome. Those long thick luscious locks of black hair cascading down his back. Those striking, intense violet eyes that remind you of amethysts.

And that jawline. Oh, that fucking jawline. A sharp jawline that’s so, so damn rideable too.

Everything you want in a man, and he’s a damn lunatic and you know it.

Maybe you’re a little too into it.

“Ugh! Are you serious?” You sift through your tiny capsule wardrobe and also find that it’s completely void of any color. No pop of color to spice up a dull wardrobe…does this mean you have to go shopping? Do you even have the funds for that right now? A satin black blouse with faux pearl buttons catches your eye and you hum as you consider how to style it. It’s not the fanciest getup, but it’ll do.

“Now I have to settle on a makeup look and hair…ugh! And the right perfume? Did I even pack any with me this term!?” You practically tug and pull at your hair as you rack your mind for ideas; you don’t have the greatest sense of style, but you can always seek some trusted sources for ideas. You kind of wish you had time to make more girl friends during your time as a graduate here. You need second opinions, and you have access to none.

Curse you for being more of a loner! Curse you!

This might be something you have to settle until after your evening lectures…

Sunday night approaches sooner than you expect. Geto sets the time for 6PM on the dot and you expect to meet him at the back of your dormitory. The sun has dipped over the horizon, leaving behind a sky in hues of soft pinks, lavender, and indigo, dusted with bright stars. Tonight’s a waning crescent moon.

The parking lot is barely full, with other students likely out and about and enjoying their weekend. You should have enjoyed it a little more, too, but your schedule left almost no room for such luxuries.

You unlock your phone to check the clock a few times, but it’s only a few minutes until he arrives. You sigh as a gust of wind rushes through your hair, and you don’t bother to try to adjust it. You’ve given up on making a good first impression because you can’t seem to make anything work out. You hope you look presentable, at the very least. Like a dignified, distinguished woman—the way you should be.

Who can’t seem to wait much longer because you sooooo hate to be left waiting! You’re huffing and puffing like the big bad wolf to yourself. It’s not even like he’s stalling because you’re the one who decided to wait outside! Out here, in the crisp and chilly evening autumn air. You want to take a moment to appreciate the array of colors on the leaves of the trees lining the parking lot but you are far too eager to meet someone interesting.

Finally, a dark, smaller limousine pulls in front of you. You’re stunned. You know the guy must be loaded, but you don’t expect something so fancy like this for some reason. The driver steps out and opens one of the back doors for you, and you offer her a smile. The lady with the pretty, wavy pink hair only huffs in response, which has you perking an eyebrow at the animosity (eh, women can be catty with each other for sure, but you aren’t interested in engaging in that sort of behavior, and never will be interested in such) and you slide into the vehicle. There, on the opposite seat, is the man of the hour. Suguru Geto.

The pink haired lady shuts the door after you enter, and you adjust your skirt a bit because suddenly you’re too aware of how high it hikes up your legs when you sit. You feel a little exposed, without meaning to. You probably have forgotten how to dress like you’re 22 and cute, ready to mingle and to party like it’s 1999.

You don’t remember what that’s like, actually. You idly wonder if you’ve forgotten how to be a girl, sprucing herself up for a potential suitor. Getting swept off of her feet, getting asked out on dates…when’s the last time that’s even happened to you?

You are about to part your lips to speak, but then you notice something floating overhead. Your eyes widen in panic, before glancing at Suguru, who seems composed and collected with a little grin playing on his lips, complementing the rest of his handsome features.

Gosh, is it illegal to be that ethereal? It should actually be a crime.

“It’s nice to meet you officially,” Geto begins in that smooth voice of his, like a jazz singer between speaking parts of their piece. Your heart flutters at the sight of him and you reprimand yourself in your mind.

Get a grip! You think. This is just for business! He addresses your name, and you confirm he’s pronouncing it correctly.

But something else catches your attention, a chill dancing down your spine.

You don’t ignore the disgusting, grotesque, hairy, indigo worm-like creature hovering just above Geto. Its eyes look like narrow slits, and it has a tiny mouth. It’s an overgrown, nasty ass caterpillar to you. You try not to grimace when you see little bits of drool dribbling out of its tiny mouth. You try your best not to make it seem obvious that you see it.

Is he aware of its presence? Does he know about…seeing things? Much like you?

But unfortunately for you, he seems to catch onto your shift in demeanor, quirking an eyebrow. He gestures to the grotesque creature, making your hairs stand on end. “I take it you can see my little friend here.”

“I…yes,” you swallow, eyes glancing down at your lap while you fiddle with the fabric of your skirt.

A stretch of silence falls between you two, and those sharp violet eyes of his are assessing you. As if trying to understand your dilemma…not like he’s much different in that regard here, but you’re about to find out how wrong you are about that soon enough.

“From what I gather, you don’t appear to know how to get rid of them. Have you only been able to see them?”

You nod grimly, digging your fingers into your skirt. “Yes, all my life. For as long as I can remember.”

“I see,” he replies, “It’s quite a burden to take on, isn’t it? Able to see the evil humans create, but unable to stop it.”

“…Yes,” you admit, chewing on your bottom lip. So just what is he getting at? “I’ve always been…sensitive to these things, I guess. I can’t tell you exactly when it all started. I think sometime after my grandfather passed away as a child.”

Geto hums in acknowledgement. “Often, the only time someone without the innate ability to sense curses see them at a time of tragedy, or even before their own deaths.”

He adjusts his shirt. He’s not wearing his priest garb; instead wearing a casual deep navy top and dark wash pants. You notice he paints his nails to match.

You find yourself swallowing. Why do you find that so damn attractive?

“There is a way for you to rid the world of these curses,” he says, tone calm, even. Soothing on your nerves…has he ever considered hosting a podcast? He has a voice you can listen to all day, just for the comfort. “I can help you in that regard, but of course, that’s not why we’re here tonight, isn’t it? I look forward to next week with you.”

“Thank you for your kindness,” you reply, voice meek, a flush creeping onto your features. “I-I’d like to know what more I can do about this curse of mine. The sight, I mean. Um, I hope I don’t sound rude, but does it always…hang around you like that?”

“Not always,” he chuckles, waving his hand and in a split second, the spirit above him vanishes. “That was just a test. I’ve been watching your lectures since your professor reached out to me, just to get an idea of what to expect from you.”

“How did you know I could see them through the lectures posted online?” you tilt your head, curiosity piqued. It’s not often that students are asked to come up to the class to demonstrate knowledge, but perhaps there’s been some instances where you acknowledge the presence of a curse in the classroom that goes unnoticed by the standard human eye. You have no choice but to elect to ignore the presence in the middle of class, but sometimes you can’t hide your own reactions, perhaps. He must have caught on one way or another.

“I’m sure you can put two and two together,” he answers with that smug little grin still on his face, but you can tell in spite of that, he’s being a bit playful with you. You shake your head, grinning in spite of the anxiety spiking in your mind.

“Of course,” you say with a smile tugging at your glossy lips, as a laugh escapes your lips in uneven breaths. Your eyes flit around the secluded area of the limo, as if unsure how to proceed from here. You twist the edge of the sleeves of your blouse.

What are you supposed to do with this information then? A sheen of sweat glistens on your face, and you hope your setting spray is doing the trick to hold that soft glam look you worked so hard to make perfect for the night.

It’s supposed to be freakin’ sweat and transfer proof… you think in your mind, your lips twitching ever so slightly. God, you try so hard and where does It get you?

“Is something on your mind?” Geto’s voice snags your attention back to the immediate reality. Oh, right. You’re supposed to be discussing work stuff. What you want him to bring up in his guest lecture. And if he wants to make that a regular thing for the students this term.

“Sorry,” you reply in a wistful tone, fiddling with a stray strand of hair. “It’s been a while since I went out like this, I guess. Been all work and no play, and this still involves work!”

A gasp slips from your lips as he takes your hands in his, and you admire how soft his skin feels against yours. When you meet his eyes, they’re not hardened but soft, glittering like the gemstones those violet eyes resemble.

“It doesn’t have to be.” He runs the pads of his fingers across your knuckles in a soothing gesture. You feel your guard melt away. He seems like such a kind person in spite of the sort of things he preaches to his followers or devotees. You have done a little digging on him too for the purpose of your studies. The man before you doesn’t seem like someone who holds so much disdain for the current state of society. Even if you do agree with some of his views to a certain degree, a lot of his ideals do seem a bit…impractical.

But then again, most religious priests do believe in many impractical things. You’re beginning to understand the origins, considering the things you’re able to see that the standard human eye cannot. Most of these spirits are manifested from humans’ negative emotions. If only humans can understand how to control and harness that.

Unfortunately, it’s not like people can turn their emotions off unless they’re robots.

You can feel the flush on your face deepen and the sweat dampening your face a bit. You dig into your purse for a wipe to dab some of that off. You are definitely leaving a scathing review on that setting spray falsely advertising its benefits. Geto doesn’t make any comments. He doesn’t seem all that concerned, even. He can tell you’re a bit unnerved and is being kind and patient with you.

It’s a kind enough gesture from him.

You arrive at the restaurant and rather than the driver, it’s Geto who escorts you out like a gentleman, hooking his arm around yours. Though you can’t see through the driver’s tinted window, you just know that the driver’s probably seething at you from the display of affection and you’ve only just met the man. Are you going to get lucky with him? Maybe not on the first date, but he does seem interested in you for other reasons than just business.

Geto definitely does look far more godly in person than in pictures—which already make him look like an ethereal being, blessed by the Heavens. You can’t believe this is even happening.

Maybe it’s been a while since he’s encountered someone else with the curse of the sight, too. Maybe he finds some comfort in knowing someone like you is out there.

You feel the same way about him. You both share that curse, of the sight of these spirits, but at least he can do something about it. And he can help you do something about it.

As you’re escorted to your table—a more secluded corner of the restaurant, which has you quirk an eyebrow, but you figure it’s to discuss the elephant in the room—you’re handed your menus and left to ponder your orders. As you open yours, he speaks up again, and your eyes glance up from your menu as you’re drinking in the sight of those delicious udon noodles that you’ve been craving for some time now.

“So your class,” he starts, taking a sip out of his iced water. “Tell me about it. What else should I expect and what would you like me to expand upon?”

“Well, that all depends on you. Since you’ve kept up with the recent lectures, I’d guess you know we’re covering the topics of nihilism, existentialism, and absurdism. I’m sure you have plenty of valuable insight about that. You can tie that into your work as well. Of course, minus the seeing things part,” you answer with a nervous chuckle. “The guest lecture is just a fun bonus for students. They get bonus points to their final grade if they attend as well as an incentive. It’s something to keep them engaged and interested in the material they’re absorbing.”

He nods along as you speak, resting his glass back on the table as his eyes scan the menu below him. “Ah. So I have free reign, then?”

“Don’t speak about the…obvious stuff between us; I don’t need to tell you that,” you respond, voice wavering. “I’d guess as long as it ties into the topics we’ve discussed in past lectures, it’s fair game. I’m sure they’d love to hear insights on what you do at Star Religious Group as well.”

“I see,” he expresses. Soon enough the waitress returns requesting your orders before taking the menus. After she leaves, he continues: “So what had you interested in me, specifically? I can’t help but be curious.”

“Oh. Well,” you trail off, racking your mind over what to say. You obviously can’t tell him it’s for more personal reasons. Though you have reason to believe that he already has picked up on that part. You can at least try to sound honest and not like you’re desperate for some action in your life? What makes you think you even have a chance with this guy, anyway? Pure, unadulterated delusion? Perhaps! You dare to meet his eyes as you try to muster up some kind of coherent answer. “Honestly, it’s just good for the students to get exposure to other ideologies. It’s all part of expanding their horizons and teaching them to keep an open mind. The whole purpose of attending university is to enrich the mind. Plus, you are a famed figure here. It just seems…you know, natural.”

He stares at you, brows furrowing as he takes in what you said. He seems…almost flattered by the answer you’ve given him. Even if you pull a lot of it right out of your bum, you’re pleased with the fact that you can save yourself from some level of humiliation in that moment.

Before he reacts, your orders are set on the table. Once again, he waits for the waitress to leave.

“Well, I’m happy to be there whenever you so desire,” he finally tells you as he pried his chopsticks apart. You join him in indulging in a meal. “Tonight is on me, by the way.”

“Oh, pish posh,” you quip with a dismissive wave of your free hand, grinning wide. “Let me handle the check this time. It’s the least I can do, since you’re taking time out of your busy schedule for this.”

A genuine smile tugs at his lips from that. It makes you perk up a bit; he does seem so guarded around you—or is he just like that in general?—for some reason.

“Such generosity is rare these days,” he comments, “I can’t remember the last time I encountered a character so authentic like yours.”

“Eh, I’m not all that,” you retort with an amused huff while taking a huge heaping of udon. You ignore some of the broth hitting your chin as you talk through chewing. “It’s a natural way to act, isn’t it?”

He shakes his head, chuckling as he seems amused by your erratic antics. Even his beautiful violet eyes are twinkling because he seems like he’s enjoying himself.

A win is a win! You find yourself beaming, heart swelling with pride. Does this mean you have a shot?

“I beg to differ,” he quips, “It’s…rare these days, to find such authenticity in humans.”

Well, you think, he’s not exactly wrong there…

Things grow quiet for a moment as you’re slurping up your udon, and in the middle of another particularly long thick noodle, you catch him staring at you. Tilting your head, you finish your bite and gesture to him.

“What’s up?” you question with a confused puppy expression.

“Nothing,” he declares easily, helping himself to another roll of sushi. “You remind me of someone, is all.”

You almost want him to elaborate on that observation, but then ultimately decide against it. It’s not all that important to you right then. For the rest of dinner, the two of you begin to discuss more mundane topics until you’re done. You follow through on your promise in taking care of the check, which he graciously thanks you for (and you of course brush off because why? It’s not a big deal to you). He escorts you back to the limo and helps you back inside.

The ride back to your dorm is pleasant. You two continue to talk about things that interest you both, whether about the future lectures or about the curse of sight. It’s something to discuss later, but you do appreciate when he tells you he’s happy to help you where he can.

“Would it be inappropriate of me to ask you if I could walk you back to your dorm?” he inquires, “Just to make sure. As you know, schools are breeding grounds for curses. Manifested from stress, anxiety, fear…”

“I’ll be alright,” you promise, “I haven’t encountered too many issues since I stayed here. I’ll be sure to give you a call if I do need anything.”

“I’d like that very much,” he states, but then stops you before you begin walking away, grasping your elbow, his touch gentle. “I meant to ask you before, but time slipped past me. Are you aware of the existence of sorcerers?”

Your eyebrows shoot up to your forehead.

 “Sorcerers?”  you echo. He nods.

“It’s what I am,” he explains further, but it clearly doesn’t make things simpler for you. “I’m granted abilities where I can exorcise those spirits from humans. It’s part of why I took over that organization. As much as I’d like to explain further, I’m sure you’re pressed for time as well. This is something to discuss over a coffee date, if you’re so inclined to meet more with me beyond business?”

Your heart skips a beat at the idea. You nod.

“Yes,” you concede, practically breathless. “I’d really like that.”

He smiles, releasing your arm and almost appearing bashful from the proximity. “I’ll wait for you to enter your dormitory before I head off. You have a good night.”

You match his smile. “You too.”

You twist on your heel and can still feel his intense gaze on your back as you enter the building. You don’t turn back, but you can still feel his stare. You don’t sense any malice. More curiosity concerning you.

You are curious about him, too.

On the day of Geto’s guest lecture, there’s a lot of excited chattering amongst your students, with beaming smiles and wide doe eyes as they glance down at the enigma of the man at the front of the room. Many people are aware of his reputation—however they receive his perspectives. You see many of your female students snapping a few photos of Geto, with your male students shooting envious glares at him, which has you shaking your head to yourself as you pull up Geto’s presentation he’s set up for the class. Of course you’re no stranger to the fact that he’s popular to the ladies, because you’re not immune to his objective good looks, either.

This is surely to get your students interested in the material.

Before the class begins, Geto pulls you aside for a moment.

“Were you able to take a look at the presentation before today?” he asks, “I did my best to adhere to what you asked of me.”

You give him a nod. “Everything looks perfect and ties in well with the course material. I really appreciate all your effort, Geto.”

“Suguru,” he interjects, “No need to be formal with me. We’re friends, aren’t we?”

You like to think so. You give him a reassuring grin.

“Go ahead,” you push as your grin widens. “All those curious eyes are on you now.”

The lecture, as you expect because you don’t expect anything less, is a whopping success. You have never seen your students more involved before. Maybe Geto’s good looks help in that regard, but you hope to yourself that they actually pay attention to the things he’s said about his own ideologies in correspondence to the course material discussed. Even your typical troublemaking students are engaged, with their mouths agape and their notebooks open as they scribble furiously down on their papers.

Geto carries his words with authority like he always does; it captures the attention of everyone in the room.

“Society often asks the strong and fortunate ones to protect what is weak, but at what cost?”

You watch as his eyes scan through the room, inviting his students to challenge the ideology. “There is a natural order to the universe, and disruption of that order comes at a greater price than humanity is willing to accept or acknowledge. Why protect those incapable of willing to contribute? It risks stagnation. It risks evolution. Not to go back to the roots of Darwinism and the survival of the fittest, but strength and progress are ultimately what drive the world forward.”

A few of your students exchange confused glances, unsure of how to react, but their curiosity still keeps them engaged. Many other students are sitting with their mouths agape, pencils still poised above their notebooks. There are others nodding along, but maybe not necessarily in agreement with Geto’s ideals.

Geto proceeds, his words woven into the course material as you wish for him to, in ways that challenge the status quo.

“Let’s consider the history of human advancement,” he goes on, as he changes the slides on the projector with the device you’ve given him. “We see how often significant change has been driven by only the strongest and most adept of minds. Society romanticizes the idea of protecting the weak, but in doing so, we are forsaking the future for the sake of the present—for the sake of preventing the inevitable. True progress demands necessary sacrifice.”

What a nutjob, you sigh, but you keep an eye on your students, who are as open minded as they come if they’re taking a philosophy class. They’re enthralled by him, by the way he connects these broader concepts with the subjects they’ve covered in this class and classes similar. While they don’t agree with his worldviews (and frankly, neither do you), it still has their gears shifting in their minds. They’re engaged. They’re eager to enrich themselves. That’s the ultimate goal for you.

By the time the lecture concludes, you see even the usual skeptics in your class are caught off-guard, mesmerized by his words, their pens still furiously scribbling across the page after Geto completes his presentation. You are in absolute awe of this man. You don’t know how you can repay him for such an intense lecture.

You do treat him to coffee and pastries at a café on campus, thanking him profusely for everything and you do hope that he continues to come back for the rest of the semester.

That’s definitely one of the better lectures you’ve seen since you’ve begun pursuing higher education.

He takes a sip of his coffee, his eyes twinkling in amusement as he settles back into his chair, relaxed as if he’s conquered the world today. Which he may as well have in your eyes.

“I’m glad I was able to make a lasting impression on them,” he boasts, “Are they normally this intrigued by the material?”

You shake your head at that.

“Oh, not to such a degree like today,” you respond earnestly. “I was impressed. The professor seemed very pleased as well, so he’s definitely hoping you come by more often.”

His eyes flicker with something unreadable before he leans forward, lowering his voice to barely above a whisper.

“I did notice many of your students haunted by spirits,” he confesses, “I can do something about it, you know.”

“That would be great. It’d give you more of a reason to frequent the university,” you reply, “You said you can teach me how to get rid of the problem?”

“I can,” he assures you with a hum. “I’m more than happy to demonstrate one day.”

“How soon can that be for you?” you ask a little too eagerly. “If I can do the things you can do…even a little bit, I want to be able to help people in a way that I can too.”

He smiles at that, his face brightened as he does, and your heart does backflips.

“You truly are a good person,” he remarks, his tone almost reverent.

You glance away, feeling heat rush to your cheeks. Receiving compliments have always made you feel awkward, and coming from someone like him, who seems so genuine, so sincere…it’s both off-putting yet flattering to you. You shrug the compliments off with a noncommittal hum, sipping your latte as a form of distraction. “Eh. That’s up for debate.”

“No, believe me, I mean what I say,” he insists, his gaze unyielding. “It’s…great to meet someone like you.”

You freeze in place. Damn, this guy…is he trying to kill you with kindness, or something? It’s definitely working because you swear you lost all the feeling in your legs; your body threatening to turn to mush.

“So,” your voice peters out as you try to continue the conversation before it lulls into another awkward stretch of silence. “Why don’t we meet more often this week about the exorcisms?”

“Sure,” he replies, “Do you know where my temple is?”

“No,” you tell him. He hands you his business card with the address on it.

“You can come there tonight, if you wish,” he utters, adjusting his collar as a slow, teasing smile graces his features. “Or, you know. Whenever you have some free time to learn more about what it is I do behind closed doors. Obviously, this kind of thing isn’t known to the public. As you might have guessed, the religious group is a bit more of a…coverup.”

You nod. “I’m honesty not surprised that this kind of thing is legit.”

“Of course you’re not,” he retaliates, his features darkening which nearly has you jump in your seat from the sudden shift in his demeanor. “You’re not blind like the rest. You see what lurks between our worlds.”

An eyebrow raises at the way he phrases that statement. Maybe it’s his nutjob side of him coming out, which you’re willing to ignore. You obviously don’t think he’s a nutjob for being able to see things like you can, and to rid the world of the issue. No, no, in fact, you see him as a saint for carrying such a burden. Even if it’s not one he’s wanted, maybe. More than likely, actually.

You just find some of his preachings to be impractical, is all. But like you have said before, many priests preach impractical things. It’s ultimately what appeals to the masses, isn’t it?

“Well,” you start, as you get up to leave. You have some more classes to attend yourself before you can think about anything to do with spirits. “Thanks for today, Suguru. It’s really been an eye-opening experience for my students. I know!”

“Of course,” he replies smoothly, getting out of his seat as well and pushing his chair under the table. “Thank you for treating me to coffee. Next time, you must allow me to get the bill. I can’t imagine this is easy on your finances as a student yourself.”

“Aw, fine,” you reply with a huff—your stubbornness is more playful than anything else, meant to lighten the mood a bit because you crack under too much tension.

“Next time.”

You’re definitely lying through your teeth. You know you won’t; he probably knows you won’t.

“And next time,” he goes on to say, without skipping a beat. “I’d like it to be a proper date.”

You almost drop the nearly empty cup of coffee in your hands from that statement, which encourages a hearty laugh out of Geto. Your blush deepens, and you place your hands on your hips, indignant, but he doesn’t stop laughing so you can’t help but join him and laugh at your own ridiculous antics. His laughter seems so pure, untouched. Raw.

It knocks the wind out of you, you find yourself admitting. You have never seen a more beautiful man in your life.

A part of you wonders the last time he’s ever felt so alight and carefree like this.

Later that week, you find your schedule easing up so you decide to make a quick detour to the temple. You give him a heads up that Friday evening, and he gets a ride ready for you at the same time you met before. He must be a creature of habit, or he just doesn’t want you to feel scattered. Either way, you’re looking forward to this demonstration he has for you. Maybe you might meet a client in need that night. As you’re picked up and driven there, by that same, snarky driver as last time, you can’t help but let the anticipation kill you inside a little. You do bring some of your supplies with you tonight, since time waits for no one and you have piles upon piles of assignments to grade, regardless of what happens tonight. You doubt Suguru will mind.

When you arrive, you’re greeted by the Star Religious Group’s temple which screams opulence the moment you step out of the limousine. Your mouth is slightly agape, taking in the sight. The building stands tall, grand, majestic. The religious group’s crest is on the center of the double doors which you enter after the driver, who is escorting you to Suguru’s exorcism room. The halls seem to stretch for miles, but you aren’t allowed time to explore as the pink-haired snooty driver shoves you into the room where Suguru waits, expecting you.

“Sheesh, your driver has got quite the attitude with me,” you remark, dusting off any particles in your clothes. You set your schoolbag aside as you approach Suguru, who is sitting in the middle of the room on a raised platform. “Thanks for having me tonight.”

“I’m happy you can make it,” he answers as he adjusts himself in his seat. He’s back in his typical priest garb, and you wonder if that was a personal choice because you have to admit; it’s not the most flattering on him. Not that religious garb is ever flattering…

“So,” you begin, seating yourself in the center of the room. “The demonstration. What does that entail?”

Geto casts a veil by chanting an incantation you have never heard of before. Then again, you have never even heard of sorcerers until now, so everything is new to you. Then you witness a few curses lurking about, ones he likely released for the sake of the demonstration. You watch, wide eyed, as the amalgamations are absorbed into a black orb that can fit into his hand. He smirks as you before you watch him ingest it with a look of disgust etched on his face, and from the way he arches his back to force it down.

You’re in awe. That’s his personal method for exorcising spirits? He’s discussed it in the past, but you have never seen it in person until now. You’re not sure what to think. He’s mentioned there are other methods other sorcerers have, and this is the one he, in his words, has been cursed with as a sorcerer. You idly wonder if he ever wanted to be one from the start.

“And that’s that,” he finishes, “I’m already their host, and exorcisms are usually much tougher than this, at times. The next time a client shows up, I can show you a more proper exorcism.”

He lifts the veil.

“And you say this is your unique method?”

He nods. “Yes. I consume them to exorcise them.”

“Your body holds all of those demons? Like a vessel?” you whisper, eyes shimmering from concern. Doesn’t that…not seem unfair to him? He has to hold all of those curses in his body. He has to make sure they don’t roam freely. He has been granted a power that seems to eat away at him, chip away at bits and pieces of his own agency.

That’s monumentally unfair in your eyes. You wish you can lift that weight on his shoulders.

He nods again, expression grim.

“Suguru,” you start after a period of reflection. You chew a bit on your lip. “Doesn’t it ever feel like too much?”

The resounding silence you get is response is all the answer you need to understand.

Suguru finally takes you on that proper date sometime later. Which eventually expands to more dates. Seeing each other more often. And as a man of his word, he even follows through on his promise and returns back to your university for a few more guest lectures all throughout the semester.

You feel like you’re floating; you never expect for anything to evolve with Suguru, but you’re definitely not complaining about the development.

It’s late one evening when Suguru requests your presence for another demonstration of an exorcism. It’s one of your students, he mentions to you, and you recognize her immediately upon entering the exorcism chamber. She’s a bright, ambitious girl who’s been thriving in your class in spite of the curses surrounding her that you’ve been able to notice. It’s why you’ve been a little more lenient with some students than with others. Is it unethical? Perhaps… but sometimes it’s necessary to give them a little grace here and there.

She’s approached you several times between class and during lectures, her eyes wide and thrilled to learn in spite of clearly cracking under the weight of the torment the curse spirits have put her through. The young lady has mentioned in passing that she’s felt a weight on her shoulders, an overwhelming amount of exhaustion that she can’t seem to shake off no matter how much medication she takes to stay alert. You know the reason why. And Suguru has noticed her. That’s why he’s suggested the student to visit his temple.

“She understands she’s cursed after I explained to her,” Suguru instructs you, his tone colder than what you’re used to all of a sudden. “I’ve noticed these curses are particularly stubborn with her.”

Now, as you stand beside Suguru on his raised platform, looking at the young, bright bubbly student in question, cowering in her spot. You can’t help shuddering from the tension. You’re never great with it. Suguru maintains his sharp gaze on the poor girl, his violet eyes reflecting a darkness you’ve never seen before in him. The student stands trembling at her spot, her hands clutching the hem of her shirt. Her gaze flits to you, fear pooling in her eyes, and your breath hitches—you’ve never seen her more desperate for relief from her torment. Even the strong ones break.

“Watch closely,” Suguru instructs, resting a hand on your shoulder.

He raises his free hand, weaving no gestures, nothing. Just instructing the girl coldly to hold still. You watch in awe as you watch the disgusting, grotesque curse spirits clinging onto the poor girl vanish into that same black orb. Some of the lights in the room flicker. The temperature drops and you rub your arms, seeking some kind of friction, some warmth. You can see your breath when you breathe out.

“Suguru…” you murmur, beady eyes glancing up at him.

“Shush,” he chides, his tone commanding and almost dismissive, not meeting your gaze.

The student’s body jolts as if struck by an invisible force, her eyes wide in terror as her breath comes in ragged gasps. You feel an instinct to rush to her, to offer some comfort, but Suguru holds you in place. He has told you to come here to watch, not to act.

“Those blasted curses, they cling to the weakness in humans,” Suguru mutters, his lips barely moving as he brings the orb to his lips. “Humans…they don’t understand the forces they impose on themselves.”

You don’t rip your gaze from him, a strange knot twisting in your gut. He addresses humanity with such disdain that it makes your skin crawl. It’s almost as if he wants to distance himself from the very essence of humanity.

He swallows the orb whole, arching his back as he grimaces at the strong taste (they can’t taste good). Your student collapses forward, her body quivering from relief. She’s smiling as she feels weightless and carefree again. You finally rush to her side, your heart hammering as you rest your hands on her shoulders, offering her comfort. Now she’s safe…but seeing the way Suguru’s attitude has shifted…something is not settling right in your soul about him.

“You helped her,” you whisper, bewildered eyes flitting to his. “Thank you. Thank you, Suguru.”

Suguru’s expression remains cold, calculating, still looking at the student with a hint of disdain. “Of course. It’s what I do. These blasted things thrive off of the pathetic weaknesses of humans.”

Your eyebrows furrow at that statement. He’s cold. You know the gist of the ideologies he preaches, of course, but you never thought it ran so much deeper in his soul. His gaze finally softens the longer he stares at you. For a moment, you’re not sure you really know the sort of person Suguru Geto is. It can’t just be the public persona he displays. And it can’t just be the sides he shows to you one on one. It’s true; humans are both simple and complex, multi-faceted…You can never truly know someone, even if you’re in close proximity to them.

“Are these the things you wish to learn?” he inquires, approaching you and helping you to your feet. He acknowledges the student before she makes her exit. Not before thanking Suguru profusely for his help. She’s never felt better. You can’t help but feel a sense of happiness for her. That torment has finally ended.

“I want to do the things you can do,” you reply, “I want to help others. I don’t want to be helpless anymore.”

His gaze softens even more at that, and your heart flutters.

“Then I’ll show you. There are workarounds for those who lack cursed energy. Tools imbued with cursed energy will be beneficial to you.” He presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “If you want to be the change you want to see in the world, then let me be your guide.”

“Teach me everything, Suguru,” you yelp a bit as he goes in for a dip kiss, leaning you backward as your lips meet. You return the passion, lips melding against his as if you can’t think of anything else you’d rather do in that moment. “I want to help you.”

He hoists you up by your bottom, hooking your legs around his waist as he continues to kiss you deep, leading you back to the raised platform and settling you on the cushions and not once breaking the kiss.

You don’t even stop him when he begins to unbutton your top. Or when he slips off your pants.

He trails little kisses and bites between your thighs, and you let out a dreamy sigh. You don’t even care that you’re practically out in the open here. But by now, the temple’s off the clock, isn’t it? Besides, it’s not like you haven’t already done riskier things with Suguru already in your own damn classroom.

Next thing you know, you’re already debauched and fucked out of your mind and he hasn’t even fucked you properly yet. He’s just taking you apart with his mouth, probably in an effort to wash away that curse taste he’s ingested not too long ago.

You do like to toy with the idea of being his stress ball. Carrying such a burden like his…he must need that escape. That little time of respite from his role in the world that has been thrust upon him against his will.

You can’t blame him.

If that escape is hours crushed between your thighs? Well, who are you to deny him?

Your lips part as you gasp when you feel his tongue twist around your little bud of nerves. He really has shown he can do this for hours. He’s even creamed untouched like a hormonal schoolboy before a handful of times just doing this and it’s the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed. There’s even been another time where he’s been so aroused by you that he’s creamed inside as soon as he entered you, which at first he found embarrassing but you insisted to him that it was the highest compliment in the world to you.

You wonder if that’s going to happen again tonight.

A shriek escapes your lips as he closes his mouth over your gooey folds and suckled hard, gulping down some of that heavy slick while rolling his tongue between them. Your back arches against the floor, hips grinding up into his mouth and he growls, low and menacing, like he’s in that mood—only interested in pleasing you on his terms.

“Suguru…” his name slips from your lips in a dreamy moan, legs constricting around his neck as you desire to knock him closer into you. His breath fans against your sex, and you buck your hips upward, craving more friction.

All you’re craving is more.

Already you can see a hint of a wet spot in his robe, meaning he’s already strained, already fully erect and leaking of arousal just doing this, just tearing you apart. You want to return the pleasure but this is another instance where he doesn’t need to be touched. He looks flushed himself, fucked out of his mind and delirious, eyes half mast as he locks his gaze on yours, his lips and chin sheen from your slick, while suckling and licking and slurping at your sopping gooey glistening cunt like he’s honored to do it.

He growls low again, and that wet spot in his pants spreads. He’s creamed himself untouched again and you mewl from the thought. Yet he doesn’t seem satisfied. He never is after just one orgasm or three out of you. You come soon after him, clenching helplessly around the wet muscle. He only chuckles, passing his tongue from your entrance back up to your clit. Where the tip of his tongue teases it with a few flicks before plunging it into your twitching, fluttering, soppy hole. You moan, hands gripping his head, clawing at his hair. He approves with another twist of his tongue inside your gummy walls.

In these moods of his, he doesn’t plan to stop. And you don’t mind. This indulges you as much as this indulges him.

During finals week, Suguru decides to hang back while you’re proctoring the exams for your class. He’s able to exorcise any spirits while there in a blink of an eye, lifting the weights off of numerous distressed students. You can’t help but smile. He does excuse himself a few times to ingest the curses, returning the third time with a cup of coffee for you both.

He sneakily brushes his fingers over your hand as you scan the classroom for any suspicious activity—meaning cheating, not curses—and you cast a sidelong glance at him with a little smile on your face.

As the students turn in their exams at the end of the period, Suguru speaks up and catches your attention as you’re stacking the papers neatly on your desk.

“So, is this the last exam for you?” he asks, hovering over your desk.

“No,” you answer with a defeated sigh. You’re so over the term. Your final term is going to be your lightest workload, which you’re looking forward to; it’s the little things. “I still have my own exams to take for the rest of this week.”

“Oh. Perhaps afterward, we can celebrate then. Nanako and Mimiko have been nagging me about going overseas somewhere for the winter. Will you join us?”

You tilt your head as he moves to cup your face, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks.

“Who will look after the temple?”

“Ah,” he quips with a sigh. “Manami can handle it while we’re gone.”

“Oh, well, if you really would like me to, then of course I’d love to go. Where are you guys thinking?” You’re in the middle of putting away your laptop and the files full of exams tucked away in a manilla folder.

“Bali,” he answers with a grin.

Your jaw hangs open and your entire face lights up. “No way.”

He leans in to give you a chaste kiss. “Of course. We have all the money and the time now and the girls have always wanted to go. They’ve come to adore you. They’d love you there.”

Pinch me, I’m dreaming. How did I get so lucky?

Little do you know that luck of yours is going to be tested.

You squeal in delight as you steal a kiss from him. Before you know it that kiss melds into a quick succession of heated kisses, and he grips you by your waist, hoisting you over your desk and pulling you flush into him.

“Can we lock the doors now,” he breathes between slobbery, biting kisses and though delirious you still manage to nod, as he reluctantly pulls away to do just that along with closing all the blinds.

He returns to you, shoving your things out of the way on your desk as he presses your back against the cool wood. He locks your lips in a frenzied kiss, desperate, soon trailing down to the juncture between your neck and shoulder where he bites down hard.

“Suguru—!” you hiss, your nails digging into his shoulders. He responds with an amused chuckle, licking the hickey now blooming on that area as his expert hands yank your work slacks off.

“The cameras are all off, yeah? Or if they are—let’s give them a show then—!”

“Nasty,” you playfully chide while whacking his shoulder. “They’re off now. No more lectures in this room today.”

“What a shame,” he laments, as he pries your legs as far apart as they can go before plunging his tongue into your sex. You squeal like a pig again, for an entirely different reason, biting the inside of your cheek.

“Ah ah,” he admonishes with a frown as he twirls his tongue between your already soaked folds, groaning low and guttural at your natural taste. “I want you to enjoy it, baby.”

You feel the flat of his tongue lap over your sex, smooth and languid, and you flush harder from the goopy, gooey squelching noises from the combination of your juices and his saliva. He’s devouring you like he always enjoys, taking his time in taking you apart.

You yelp as he inserts his large pink tongue inside, and he chuckles again, the sound vibrating against your sensitive skin. You squirm under him, and he holds you down in place, his grip unyielding.

It’s all so lewd, but you should be used to this by now, feeling his tongue plunge in and out of your gummy, spongy insides. But your head falls back, nearly slamming itself against the desk as your eyes cross.

The sloshing of your juices and his saliva is so…so embarrassing, and in a lecture hall too? Not as if you haven’t done this many times before with him, but why is it as thrilling as the first time whenever it’s with him? No one’s ever made you feel the things he did. No one’s ever understood you like the way he did and you want to give him everything.

You come in a hot flash, and he pulls off your sex, but not before a few long, dramatic slurps and gulps of your gushing slick that makes you squeak in embarrassment again. You basically are livestock to Suguru. He’s not even going to deny it either.

You whine pitifully as you feel him pull away, feeling sorely empty. But you’re not whining for all that long when you hear the light wisp of him pulling his pants and taking out his fully erect cock. He’s prepared, as usual, taking out a condom to wrap around his absurdly huge length that you’re surprised you can even handle taking even with enough prep. He lines himself to your entrance and pushes just the tip inside first, waiting for you to adjust with a little grunt of his own. You love it when he gets vocal; it’s often the only time you ever see him completely raw and uncomposed. He lets himself go completely with you, and he plunges more of his length inside and you utter a little strained gasp, gripping tighter onto his shoulders if it’s even humanely possible at this point.

He hoists you up from the desk, securing you in his arms as he begins to move you up and down on his cock. You cling helplessly to him, burying your face into his neck and breathing in his natural musk. It’s crazy to you that this is the most vulnerable you’ve ever been with any partner you’ve ever had and he makes you feel so secure in allowing it. He must feel the same way. Doesn’t he?

His hands rake down your sides, stopping at your waist where he rests them. He purrs, his thrusts growing more erratic with need, and you can still hear some sloshing of your juices from your previous orgasm and it’s lewd and so embarrassing but it’s so hot because it’s him doing this to you. Not many people can get away with this in a dignified way…ever, really, but for some reason, with him, he makes you feel on top of the world.

And you are on top of at least his world right now.

Not much longer, and you find him releasing with you soon following suit, your gummy, gooey, slick walls clenching desperately around his cock. You stay like that for a few moments, still secured tightly in his arms and his cock still inside. Sometimes he likes to let it just sit in there for a few minutes, maybe longer, savoring the comfort of being inside you before fully pulling out and disposing of the used condom (in a much more discreet manner, considering they’re still in a public lecture hall).

He's always prepared. You appreciate that about him. He brings in supplies for a quick cleanup and suggests going to the nearest restroom for that before he escorts you back to your dorm. It’s your final week there until the semester ends. You ask him to stay and to join you in the shower.

Of course he won’t say no to such an inviting request.

Lucky for you, the shower you share with your neighbor is vacant, and you lock either side before stripping down. Geto follows soon after, slipping inside with you after you wait for the water to preheat.

“When do you graduate?” he murmurs as he kisses your shoulder. You lean into him, sighing in relief. You have never felt more at ease with anyone than like with Suguru. He makes you feel things no one else in your life ever has before. It’s why you have so few in your life; nobody ever truly ‘got’ you.

“Um, from the Master’s program next term,” you reply in a whisper. “But I think I might aim for my PhD…”

He secures his hold around your waist as the scalding water showers over your bodies. Steam begins to fog the area around you.

“Being on school grounds where curse spirits are everywhere…are you sure you want to be around that for a few more years?”

“Curse spirits are everywhere, in general, Suguru,” you counter, craning your neck as he kisses up to your ear. “It’s just…a fact. I can’t let that stop me from pursuing my goals.”

“That’s a fair point,” he mutters into your skin before reaching for your shampoo. “May I?”

“You’re sweet,” you chuckle, snatching the shampoo bottle from his hand. “But why don’t you let me take care of you, for once, Suguru?”

His eyes widen at the idea, but he gives you a soft smile. For a moment, you catch a glimpse of how tired he seems from the burden he’s forced to carry—nothing he’s ever wanted for himself from the start. The more you learn of his role of a sorcerer, the things he’s faced…you can’t help but want to give back. You want to make him feel cherished, loved. Because he is cherished and loved.

His lips move to your forehead where he peppers soft kisses as you begin to emulsify the shampoo he’s handed to you between your hands before working into his luscious locks of hair. You can’t help but admire how long it is, how well he takes care of it. He says he allows his twin girls to brush through it from time to time since they enjoy things like that.

You feel him pull you closer into him, so close that you can feel your synced heartbeats. You’re in the middle of washing down the middle of his hair and you chuckle.

“What’s up?” you whisper, as he hides his face into your neck.

“Thank you,” he whispers back, his voice almost like a pained whimper, catching you off guard. He has never been this open with you before. “Thank you.”

You think you hear him sniffling, at first thinking it’s because the steam is catching up to him. The steam from a shower can really do wonders on clearing out those sinuses. But no. It’s not from that at all, you realize as you hug him closer, drawing soothing circles on his back.

Suguru’s…crying.

He decides to stay a bit longer with you in your dormitory, snuggling you close into his body as you’re grading the exams.

You don’t comment on the crying, because it’s nothing to be embarrassed about, anyway. Why make a comment? He is free to feel everything and anything around you. It’s the greatest compliment of all to you.

He’s safe here with you, just like you feel safe with him.

You brush your fingers through his hair, inhaling the fresh cleanly scent of it. Fruity. Citrusy. It’s calming as you try not to make any snide comments on some students’ work, because higher education doesn’t necessarily mean you get a lot of bright students. It’s still a mixed bag.

“How the hell does a Master’s student not know how to spell mitigate?” you sigh, tapping your red ink pen against your forehead. “Or criticism? Seriously?”

Suguru chuckles at that, resting his chin on your shoulder, and meeting your eyes. The bags under his eyes are clearer now up close. He can’t mask his exhaustion. From whatever it is. You can only make speculations from what he’s shown you already. You aren’t here to judge him; what right do you have to do that? You can only be here for him.

“I love you,” you hear him say and your bewildered eyes meet his. But you come down from the temporary shock, kissing the bridge of his nose.

“I love you too,” you reply, meaning it, as you resume grading before groaning again. You just may rip all of these exams apart on the professor’s behalf! “Another misspelling of criticism?! These students need to go back to grade school because how the hell have they gotten this far in life?! Gosh, so much of their stupid is showing…”

You hear Suguru chuckle again and you beam at him, knowing you achieved your goal. Just to pull him out of that dark space he’s trapped himself in—whatever it is. You’re here for him. You want him to understand he’s not alone.

You press another kiss to the crown of his head. When’s the last time Suguru ever felt relaxed? Or actually happy? In a world like this and a technique like his, can he ever relax or feel happy?

You feel him slump against you as he drifts to sleep, snoring soundly. He’s more than welcome to stay, as long as he needs to. His duties back at the temple can wait. He needs to allow himself to rest.

When the semester ends, you take up Suguru’s suggestion to live with him at the temple. You don’t have plans to go back to the countryside, and your trip with them is in another week, anyway. Over time, it’s clear to you how deep his disdain for humanity runs from the way he treats his clients behind closed doors. He makes flippant remarks, and at first you wanted to believe it’s just some strange quirk of his.

An incident proves how wrong you are.

You aren’t supposed to be there. It’s your fault. But you enter the exorcism chamber seeking Suguru concerning the upcoming trip to Bali—you can’t even remember what about specifically anymore—and that’s where you see him at his most cold and heartless toward a client.

There, in the middle of the room, is an elder man cowering on his hands and knees before Suguru who possesses that hardened expression like he has other clients. Except something about this seems off. More off than usual.

“Please, Geto, I’m so sorry. I have no more money to give you, but please, please help me. I can’t take it anymore!” the man begs, and Suguru only chuckles coldly in response. He hasn’t realized you’ve entered the room yet. Or maybe he has, and he’s just begun to show you his unhinged side.

“If you have no more money for me, then I have no more use for you,” he sneers and though you can’t understand what’s happening, he snaps his fingers and some of his devotees go to retrieve the man to drag him out of the room. His eyes follow them with that hardened stare, which softens as soon as he sees his followers brush past you.

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” he apologizes as he approaches you. “Did you need something, baby?”

“Suguru, who was that just now?” you stammer as you clutch onto your phone, your lips pressed together as you try to make sense of what you just witnessed. Suguru doesn’t look like the man you’ve come to know to that man but now he seems to behave as if that’s nothing out of the ordinary for him.

Which maybe it isn’t, but it is out of the ordinary for you.

It just goes to show—you never really know who someone is behind closed doors, after all. You still don’t want to judge Suguru. Everyone is multifaceted. Everyone is complex. Everyone has layers. Why should you judge him, especially if you still don’t know the full story? You don’t feel like you have the agency to do so. You’ve come here on your own prerogative, because you want to help the helpless. You don’t want to be helpless yourself anymore.

Something dark flashes in his expression again and you feel a chill down your spine.

“Ah, he’s no longer a concern to the organization,” he explains, “He’s just been hoarding money he’s owed from us and then he comes to claim he has none left. So we cut business with him.”

You need to leave, you hear yourself say. You need to leave him. You need to escape. He’s not who he claims he is to you, isn’t he?

Run. An urgent voice reverberates through your head like a gong struck.

“It looked like he was…begging for your help,” you breathe, eyes downcast. “And you didn’t help him. Isn’t that what you do here?”

“We help those who are helpless themselves,” he answers with a sigh, taking your hands in his and drawing patterns into the palm which didn’t hold your phone. “And he isn’t helpless. He’s just run out of luck.”

Run. The voice repeats.

“I see,” you mutter.

“Now, what is it did you want to ask me about?” he asks with that wide smile of his that seems unsettling all of a sudden the longer you stare.

“Oh, um, nothing, I just wanted to ask you about the hotels we were staying at on our trip,” you reply, surprising yourself that you keep your voice even in spite of your heartbeat rapidly increasing and your brain screaming at you to stay away.

RUN! It roars now. You can’t ignore it. You can’t ignore your gut.

“That’s something we can discuss later.” He kisses along your knuckles. “I’ve been called to a few more meetings today. I’ll see you tonight.”

You gulp on a hard lump of nothing, but manage to nod.

“Okay,” you squeak, exiting the exorcism chamber and dashing toward your shared bedroom with Suguru. You don’t even look behind you. You’re just letting your legs carry you to your destination while your mind conjures an escape route.

You need to run. You need to get out. Before things get worse.

You burst through the door of the bedroom, seeking your suitcase which has already been set aside for the trip. You don’t want to think about that anymore. This is the perfect setup; he won’t think you’re leaving, just packing ahead for the trip, right? You doubt he’s that careless, but you can’t be careless, either. You can weasel your way out of here somehow.

You start with the small things. Then rummage through your belongings, tossing them into the suitcase as quick as you can. You freeze when you hear foot falls approaching the room, and you quickly zip up your suitcase, setting it aside.

“I doubt you’re packing ahead. You didn’t pack enough clothes for that here.” Your hairs stand on end as you hear his voice address you. “Are you planning on staying elsewhere?”

“N-no!” You lie through your teeth, whipping around to meet his calculating gaze. “I just wanted to figure out what to pack for the trip, I swear!”

“Then why did you stuff half your wardrobe in your suitcase?” His gaze flits to your backpack. “And your backpack is full of your supplies. I’m not a fool, my love, so don’t take me for one.”

“A-are you upset with me?” you stammer, twiddling your fingers.

“If you ever try to leave me, I’ll break every bone in your body and lock you away so you can’t escape,” he sneers, approaching you in a few long strides until he’s barely inches away from you. He clutches your arms in a tight, vice grip, and you yelp in shock. “Or perhaps I’ll keep you lodged in the throat of that worm curse you saw when we first met. Its useful for storing valuables like my cursed tools…or you.”

“Suguru?” Tears prick the corners of your eyes as now you’re the one cowering. What has happened? You’ve seen some signs and elected to ignore it in favor of giving him the benefit of the doubt, like everyone deserves. And look where that’s got you.

He twists one of your arms so far you can hear a few cracks and pops, and you howl in pain. “You won’t leave me.”

His grip around your arms constricts even more as he releases some of the curses he’s exorcised, surrounding you.

“You won’t leave me,” he repeats, his tone dripping in venom. “Not after you’ve shown me love I never thought I’d ever experience again.”

Again?

You feel the grimy arms of a large curse snake around your ankles and waist.

“You won’t leave me,” he says again, hie eyes darkening with something sinister. “Ever.”

[buckets-and-trees]

Chosen, Part 1: Arrival

Characters/Pairings: eventual Bucky x curvy Millennial Female!Reader, Natasha Romanoff, Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Word Count: 3.4k Summary: After surviving three rounds of interviews, you have been invited for a full-day to tour and interview at the estate and headquarters that belong to the Winged Heritage Foundation.

SERIES Content Warnings: SOFT!DARK STORY, cult themes, explicit smut, dubious consent and enthusiastic consent, veiled truths, gaslighting

CHAPTER Content Warnings: none

Notes: I started writing this story with the intention for it to be a long one-shot, but after it shot past 18k, I realized I would need to break it up into installments, so ... expect sort of a slow burn for the plot? Installments will be posted on Mondays and Thursdays.

Shout outs to @stargazingfangirl18, @witchywithwhiskey, @biteofcherry, and @vonalyn for helping me get my ideas sorted out for this trip!

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

You scroll through the note in your phone with questions to ask during a final interview as the car pulls off the interstate and starts down a country highway lined with trees.

At least you hope this is the final interview.

You had applied for a basic administrative assistant position with the Winged Heritage Foundation, but after your first interview you had been called by a recruitment officer and asked if you would consider a different position with the organization, one that hadn’t been posted publicly.

You still don’t know what the position is you’re being considered for, but after two more interviews, you had been notified that you were a finalist and invited to a full-day interview and tour of the Foundation’s headquarters – an estate outside of the city. They had even arranged for a professional car service to pick you up and take you there. The offices in the city, where your previous three interviews had taken place, evidently handles most of the business operations for the Foundation, and the estate is where the more focused work takes place.

You are naturally a bit nervous for a fourth - and full day - interview, but you feel you like your nerves are at a healthy level - present but not paralyzing, a small buzz that will keep you focused.

The car slows as it approaches a break in the trees, and your driver signals to turn. As you round the corner, your breath catches in your throat. A wrought-iron gate stretches across a wide driveway, its intricate scrollwork spelling out "Winged Heritage" in elegant script. The gate swings open silently as your car approaches, as if by magic.

The driveway stretches before you, a winding ribbon of pale gravel cutting through a verdant landscape that takes your breath away. Ancient oaks and maples line the drive, their branches reaching across to form a dappled canopy overhead. Bright morning sunlight filters through the leaves, casting dancing shadows on the ground.

As you travel deeper into the estate, meticulously manicured gardens unfold on either side. Vibrant flower beds burst with color - deep purple irises, sunny yellow daffodils, and blood-red roses. The gardens give way to rolling lawns of emerald green, dotted with sculpted topiaries in fantastical shapes.

As the car rounds another bend, a shimmering pond comes into view. Its surface is like polished glass, reflecting the azure sky and fluffy white clouds above. A family of swans glide gracefully across the water, their long necks arched in elegant curves. At the far end of the pond, a delicate bridge of white marble spans the narrowest point, its railings gilded with gold.

The driveway begins to climb a gentle slope, and as you crest the hill, your jaw drops at the sight before you. A magnificent mansion rises from the landscape, its pale stone walls glowing warmly in the morning sunlight. The architecture is a stunning blend of classical elegance, with graceful arches and intricate stonework that seems to ripple and dance as you approach.

The central facade is a masterpiece of symmetry, with wide steps leading up to a grand entrance flanked by towering columns. Ivy climbs the walls in artful patterns, as if guided by an invisible hand to accentuate the building's most beautiful features.

The car follows the curve of the driveway as it sweeps up to the grand entrance before coming to a stop. You take a deep breath, steadying yourself for what lies ahead. The driver opens your door, and you step out onto the gravel, the crunch beneath your feet grounding you in the moment.

A figure emerges from the ornate double doors at the top of the steps, and your heart skips a beat as you recognize her instantly. Natasha Romanoff, the Chief Recruitment Officer, descends the stairs with astonishing grace. Her vibrant red hair catches the sunlight, creating a halo effect that seems almost otherworldly. She's dressed in a sleek black pantsuit that exudes both professionalism and an air of mystery. As your eyes meet hers, you're struck by the intensity of her gaze - piercing green eyes that seem to look right through you.

As she draws closer, you notice a subtle smile playing at the corners of her mouth, a mix of confidence and what you suspect to be mischief. Over the course of your brief interactions up to this point, she had been nothing but professional, but you could feel some alluring pull or energy that seemed to run deep beneath the surface of her controlled demeanor. She had been present in your second interview, conducted the third with one of her associates, and had been the one to schedule you for this.

"Welcome," Natasha says, her voice smooth as silk. "We're so pleased you could join us today." She extends her hand, and you shake it, noting the firmness of her grip.

"Thank you for having me," you reply, proud that your voice doesn't betray your nerves. "The estate is absolutely breathtaking."

Natasha's smile widens slightly. "It is, isn't it? We find that beauty inspires greatness. But come, let's not linger in the driveway. We have a full day and much to show you."

She gestures towards the entrance, and you fall into step beside her as you ascend the stone steps. The massive doors swing open silently, revealing a grand foyer that takes your breath away. The ceiling soars overhead, at least three stories, adorned with an intricate fresco depicting a beautiful sky, birds in flight, and towering trees, bringing the beauty of the grounds into this entry.

Natasha guides you through a doorway off to the side of the foyer, leading you into a small sitting room. The space is elegantly decorated with plush couches, rich mahogany furniture, and intricate paintings on the walls.

"Please, have a seat," Natasha gestures towards one of the couches as she takes a seat in an armchair across from you. You sink into the soft cushions, trying to take in everything at once - the opulence of the room, Natasha's presence, and her piercing gaze.

"First things first,” Natasha says, a professional smile on her face, “the nature of what goes on here is very sensitive and so I'll need you to sign this NDA before we continue." She hands you a stack of paperwork and a pen.

You quickly skim through the document before signing it, feeling slightly uneasy about signing something so quickly without fully understanding what the day ahead of you will entail. But your curiosity outweighs your hesitation and when Natasha takes back the signed document, she slides it into a briefcase by her side.

"Now that's out of the way," she says smoothly, "let me tell you more about our foundation."

She proceeds to give you an overview of the Winged Heritage Foundation – an overview of its history, mission, and values. It's all very intriguing and impressive - but although what she shares is engaging, outside of supporting initiatives identified as important to its founder and possibly something to do preservation of history or historical places and artifacts, you still feel you don’t have any clearer of an idea of what the Foundation’s actual purpose is. But since you have an entire day here, you don’t press the point now, assuming some part of the day will be dedicated to diving deeper into the work they do.

"But enough about us," Natasha says with another enigmatic smile. "Let's talk about what brought you here today."

She pulls out your resume from her briefcase and goes over your experience and qualifications with sharp attention to detail. She asks probing questions that make you feel like she's reading between the lines of your professional achievements.

"Impressive," she comments once she's finished going over your resume. "Your professional and personal character references also speak very highly of you."

Your brow furrows slightly. “Sorry,” you interject, “I don’t remember giving personal references?”

“No, you did not. But we do a lot of work on our end to vet candidates at this point for positions like this. Surely you understand.”

You nod slowly and train your face back into a smile. At least whatever homework they seem to have done on you came back with a positive result.

She leans forward slightly, and you can feel the intensity of her gaze. "We need someone who's truly suited for the responsibilities, but personnel fit is also incredibly important to us.”

“Of course,” you respond. “And what responsibilities exactly would you be looking for me to fulfill?”

Natasha presses her lips together and seems to scrutinize your face more closely. “You’re being considered for two opportunities. Until later in the day when I’ve made a determination on which I’ll recommend you for, I won’t be disclosing that information to you.”

“Oh,” you’re a little surprised at her directness, but you suppose her reason for withholding the information is logical.

“As the Chief Recruitment Officer, I’m very good at what I do, so I’ll know your future with us by the end of the day.”

Natasha rises from her chair with fluid grace. "Shall we begin the tour?" she asks, extending her hand to help you up. You take it, noting the surprising strength in her grip. “I'm eager to show you the wonders of our estate."

She seems to hold your hand longer than necessary, or maybe it’s just your nerves, maybe you looked unsteady standing up and she was only ensuring you were okay.

As you follow her out of the sitting room, you're once again struck by the grandeur of the foyer. Natasha notices your gaze lingering on the fresco above. "That was commissioned by our founder," she explains. "It's said to depict the view from the highest peak of a mountain range that no longer exists."

She leads you down a long corridor, its walls lined with portraits of distinguished-looking individuals. "Our benefactors and notable members throughout the years," Natasha explains. "Each one has contributed significantly to our mission."

The corridor opens into a vast library that takes your breath away. Floor-to-ceiling bookshelves stretch as far as the eye can see, filled with leather-bound tomes. The air is heavy with the scent of old books and polished wood. Sunlight streams through tall windows, casting a warm glow over the room. The library is a bibliophile's dream, with rolling ladders affixed to the shelves, gorgeous wooden tables for spreading out books for research, and cozy reading nooks tucked into alcoves.

As you walk between the towering shelves, you notice that some of the books look ancient, their spines cracked and faded with age, some even appear to be bound in unfamiliar materials. Others appear to be in pristine condition, despite clearly being very old.

"Our collection is quite extensive," Natasha says, running her fingers along the spines of nearby books. "We have texts dating back centuries, some of which are the only surviving copies in the world."

"How do you preserve them so well?" you ask, unable to hide your fascination.

Natasha's lips curl into a mysterious smile. "We have our ways. Mostly it’s all down to our librarian Jarvis.”

She leads you through a set of double wooden doors at the other side of the library. Once you exit, Natasha leads you through a series of grand hallways, each more breathtaking than the last. The walls are adorned with tapestries and paintings that seem to come alive as you pass, their subjects' eyes following your movement. You could swear you see a figure in one portrait shift slightly, but when you look back, it's perfectly still.

"This wing houses our main offices and research facilities," Natasha explains as you walk. "We have state-of-the-art equipment for analyzing artifacts and documents, as well as a world-class conservation lab."

You pass by rooms filled with people working diligently at computers, their screens displaying what look like ancient texts and complex diagrams. In one room, you glimpse a team carefully examining what appears to be an old manuscript under specialized lighting.

As you continue down the hallway, you notice a door that seems different from the others. It's made of dark, heavy wood and adorned with intricate carvings. Unlike the other doors which are open or have glass panels, this one is firmly shut.

Natasha catches you looking at it. "That area is off-limits, I'm afraid. Some of our more... sensitive projects require absolute secrecy."

You nod but can't help feeling a prickle of curiosity. What could be behind that door that requires such concealment?

Natasha guides you to an elevator at the end of the hall. As you step inside, you notice there are more floors than you would have expected from the outside view of the mansion.

"We have quite extensive facilities underground," Natasha explains as she presses a button for one of the lower levels. "It allows us to maintain the historical integrity of the mansion's exterior while having all the modern amenities we need for our work."

The elevator descends smoothly, and when the doors open, you find yourself in a sleek, modern space that contrasts sharply with the ornate decor above. The walls are a pristine white, and the floors are polished concrete. The lighting is bright but not harsh, giving the space a clean, almost clinical feel.

Natasha leads you down a corridor lined with glass-walled rooms. In one, you see people in lab coats hunched over microscopes. In another, a group is gathered around a large touch screen, manipulating 3D models of what look like ancient artifacts.

"This is our primary research facility," Natasha says, leading you down a wide corridor. "We have some of the most advanced technology in the world at our disposal here."

As you walk, you pass by rooms with glass walls, allowing you to see inside. In one, you spot what looks like a holographic projection of a complex molecule rotating in mid-air. In another, a team of scientists in white lab coats huddle around a table, examining something you can't quite make out.

You pause for a moment, trying to take it all in. The contrast between the classical architecture upstairs and this futuristic facility is striking. "This is incredible," you say, unable to keep the awe from your voice. "I had no idea the Foundation had such advanced capabilities."

Natasha's lips curl into a satisfied smile. "We pride ourselves on being at the cutting edge of research and technology. It's essential for some of our work. We’re also one of the few science labs in the world that still is granted an affiliation with the nation of Wakanda."

As you continue down the corridor, you notice a few doors that aren't made of glass like the others. These are solid metal, with keycard readers and what look like biometric scanners next to them.

"What's behind those doors?" you ask, curiosity getting the better of you.

Natasha's expression doesn't change, but you sense a slight shift in her demeanor. "Those are our most sensitive research areas. Access is strictly limited to senior researchers and leadership."

As if orchestrated for this precise moment, the doors slide open, and two men emerge, engaged in a heated discussion. Or, rather, one of them is heated, and the other is shooting back casual, sarcastic comments.

Natasha clears her throat, “Gentlemen.”

They both stop.

“We have company,” she says, gesturing to you.

The two men turn to face you, and your jaw nearly drops as you instantly recognize them. Standing before you are none other than Tony Stark and Steve Rogers, two of the most famous figures in the world and certainly at the Foundation.

Tony Stark, looking every bit the billionaire genius he's known to be, is dressed in an impeccably tailored suit that probably costs more than your current yearly salary. His goatee is perfectly trimmed, and his hair is styled with just the right amount of casual messiness. There's a faint blue glow visible beneath his shirt - the arc reactor that's become his trademark.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Tony says, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and mischief. He steps forward, extending his hand. "Tony Stark. But you probably knew that already."

As you shake his hand, you can't help but feel a bit starstruck. Tony Stark's grip is brief but firm and confident, his smile charming yet slightly calculating as he sizes you up.

"And this strapping specimen of American values is Steve Rogers," Tony adds, gesturing to the man beside him.

Steve, standing tall and broad-shouldered, offers you a warm smile that seems to light up the room. He's dressed more casually than Tony in khakis and a fitted blue shirt that barely contains his muscular frame. His handshake is strong but gentle, and his blue eyes radiate sincerity.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Steve says, his voice deep and reassuring. "I hope you're enjoying your tour of our facilities."

You manage to find your voice, introducing yourself. “The tour has been nothing but fascinating and impressive so far,” you affirm.

Tony's eyes gleam with interest. "Oh, you’re the one they’ve been wooing, eh? I was sent no less than five reminders this morning that I was to be on my best behavior,” he discloses with a wink.

Natasha rolls her eyes, and you have the suspicion Steve only barely restrains himself from doing so.

"Anyway, welcome to the Foundation," Tony says.

"Stark is supposed to be one of our most valuable researchers," Natasha explains.

"Eh, that’s why you send Steve down to get me back in line when I’m pursuing tangential projects."

This time Steve does roll his eyes.

You can't help but chuckle at the banter between Tony and Steve. Their dynamic is exactly as you'd imagined from what you've seen in the media - Tony's quick wit and sarcasm playing off Steve's more serious demeanor.

"So, what do you think of our little operation so far?" Tony asks, gesturing broadly at the surrounding facility. "Pretty impressive, right?"

Before you can answer, Natasha interjects smoothly. "I'm sure our guest is finding everything quite fascinating, but we should continue the tour. I'm sure you both have important work to get back to."

Tony raises an eyebrow at Natasha, a silent exchange seeming to pass between them. "Right, right. Important work. Can't keep the world waiting, can we?" He turns back to you with a grin. "It was a pleasure meeting you. I’m sure we’ll be seeing you around."

“You’ll at the very least be seeing me,” Steve says. “I believe I’m scheduled to join you for lunch.”

“And I’m not invited?” Tony protests, but he sports an unrepentant grin rather than any genuine offense.

Steve puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder to steer him away, “You’re not the Executive Director of the Foundation, so, no.”

Tony shrugs out of his grip, “And remind me why that is?”

“‘All administrative, no science,’ as you aptly put it so many times when you remind me why you don’t want to listen to what I say.”

“Right,” Tony replies, but does fall into step with Steve heading down the corridor.

As they leave, you can't help but feel a mix of excitement and bewilderment. Meeting two such prominent figures so casually during your interview process only adds to the surreal nature of this experience.

Natasha gently touches your elbow and guides you away from the metal doors and continues down the corridor. "My apologies for that interruption," she says, though her tone suggests she's not entirely displeased. "Mr. Stark has a tendency to... make an impression."

You nod, still processing the encounter. "It's no problem at all. I'm just surprised to see them here. I knew they were involved with the Foundation, but I didn't realize they were so hands-on."

Natasha's lips curl into a knowing smile. "The Winged Heritage Foundation values the direct involvement of all its key members. You'll find that everyone here, regardless of their public status or their position in our organization, contributes actively to our mission.”

She leads you through more state-of-the-art laboratories and research facilities, each more impressive than the last, before returning to the elevator to bring you surface-level again.

As the elevator ascends, you find your mind racing with questions. The encounter with Stark and Rogers, the glimpses of cutting-edge technology, and the air of mystery surrounding certain areas of the facility have only heightened your curiosity about the true nature of the Winged Heritage Foundation is, showing you so much, but not truly illuminating any answers.  

NEXT PART: LUNCH

Welcome to the Winged Heritage Foundation, lovelies. This is only the beginning... Where will this day take you? And what is going on here?

↠ Main Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I do not do tag lists, but FOLLOW @buckets-and-stories and TURN ON NOTIFICATIONS to be updated any time I publish a new work!

[absolutebl]

This Week in BL - Thailand is back in charge

Organized, in each category, with ones I'm enjoying most at the top.

June 2024 Week 2

Ongoing Series - Thai

Wandee Goodday (Sat YT) ep 7 of 12 - There is so much to love about this pair. But one of the things I truly adore is what great communicators they are about what they want & need as friends & as lovers. As boyfriends? Not so much. But the way they can (and do and did) communicate speaks well to their ability to communicate in the future, once they have resolved the inevitable doom the BL gods will reign down upon us over the next 3-4 eps. I guess what I am say is... these two are gonna be awesome husbands.

The break up was sad but inevitable.

Yay for a crying kiss. I do so love a crying kiss! 

Can we talk about the fact that all that tension was worth it?

Excellent kiss all round from GreatInn. Possibly one of the best of the year. Their only issue in winning this category in 2024 is that they're up against OffGun, TayNew, and JimmySea, not to mention BillyBabe... and MosBank coming soon. But I gotta say, for a new pair? Fantastic work boys.

My Stand-In (Fri iQIYI) ep 8 of 12 - I literally spent this whole show saying “Oh, Poor Joe!” Which is now the actual name of his character: Poor Joe. He's like the country music sad sack. How much is this narrative gonna keep kicking him while he's down?  

Sunset X Vibes (Sat iQIYI) ep 1 of 12 - Star Hunter + MosBank + a beloved familiar face? You ready? Let's go. I got a lot to say.

Unexpected supernatural historical paranormal mythological Sign-esk elements happening in our dream sequence opening. I’m not mad about it. But I do think it’s going to be mishandled in the dubious hands of Star Hunter. My BLabies, no matter what else, with Star Hunter we can rest assured there will be chaos and narrative mess. And now, lucky us, there will be a supernatural mess. But at least it will be sexy and high heat.

Honestly, I'm not worried about MosBank and I know what to expect from Star Hunter,. So we're all on the same page.

Meanwhile, enter a cute side couple (normal for this studio). WAIT a second I know that face! That's Tenon of PitchBank fame (side couple, and only good thing about, Golden Blood). I’m sad to see his pair busted, but delighted to see him pop up again in a BL.

Tenon appreciation time: He kisses beautifully everyone, and he is a killer eye-emoter. We are in for a real treat with this actor. (Especially if we get to a place in the narrative where he pines. OH PLEASE MAKE HIM PINE.)

Okay back to the show. I love Tenon but I also LOVE his infiltrating, wicked smart, younger brother character. This role is great for him. I adore an industrial spy. I enjoy a rich boy pretending to be an intern in his family's company (yes it's a trope, just not common in BL). Excellent work Thailand. No notes.

In conclusion?

It’s a cheesy silly office BL and I am enjoying it immensely because I have no expectations. So don't burst my bubble. Star Hunter is bound to do that on its own without tumblr's help.

We Are Cute (Weds iQIYI) ep 11 of 16 - Oh my God they are all so cute! I love the beginning bit when Peem was feeling down and Phum tried to cheer him up. Ridiculously charming. All the sides were super adorbs too. The actual name of this show is "We Are Cute". Meanwhile, Kluen = the only boy in a BL ever to take his unfinished drink with him? I like him even more now. 

My Love Mix-Up Th (Fri YT) ep 2 of 12 - New take on the umbrella trope to be trapped under a parasol together. NO SINGING. Honestly? I am not loving this as much as I really wanted to love it. It's the middle of the rankings for good reason. I do like the idea of historical Cinderfella BL though. Why isn't that what I'm watching? The play with in a play is a dangerous trope to deploy, it only distracts my with attractive possibilities. 

Love Sea (Sun iQIYI) ep 2 of 10 - I'm gonna try to cycle back to ending this rap-up week on Saturdays, which means the recap for this episode will be in next week's weekly (so to speak). Meanwhile, I am doing a Trash watch on this show. Hopefully that will get updated tomorrow.

Knock Knock Boys (Thurs Gaga) ep 4 of 12 - It’s fun enough. Kind of a pulpy lark. Best + Seng = a surprisingly good match.

Only Boo! (Sun YT) ep 10 of 12 - Good kiss from the sides. No surprises there. The main’s kissing was fine too, I guess. I like that they had a genuine struggle with being an idol and not being able to date. It’s nice to see that depicted on screen in a BL. I wish we had a bit more of a montage around the rise & success of Moo's boy group. But I understand the money in play for this kind of show prohibits that. All in all? It’s fine. 

Ongoing Series - Not Thai

At 25:00 in Akasaka AKA 25 Ji Akasaka de (Japan Thurs Gaga) ep 9 of 10 - Oof. This ep was painful. So much awkward desperation and confusion. Oh Japan, must you?

Crazy to be in a place and time where there is no other noted non-Thai BLs airing. Not even from Korea. What is going on? Are we in 2020 all over again? Please no.

It's airing but...

The Last Time (Thai Fri YT?) - Convoluted story of loss and possible reincarnation or something. Can't find it.

OMG Vampire (Thai Sun ???) 10 eps - I can't find it. Comments from last week suggest this is not my thing anyway, but Lee Long Shi very much IS my thing. I've put the search on hold for a bit and y'all can let me know if it's worth tracking down. Also, who knew Frank & Big could kiss like that? Not me.

ARGH could Monster Next Door please just start airing. I am SO tired of waiting for Big to lead out a BL. It should have happened years ago. *grumbles in chronic second lead syndrome*

In case you missed it

Let's Eat Together Aki and Haru 2 AKA Aki wa Haru to Gohan wo Tabetai 2 Haime! (Japan movie) - Continues the (frankly) lackadaisical story from part 1 ans was meant to drop yesterday. We thought maybe Gaga, but nothing so far.

The Time of Fever AKA Unintentional Love Story 2 (Korea movie) trailer released to Korean theaters 5/25. HoTae & DongHee, side couple from Unintentional Love Story are back! Same actors, same character names. I love them. Devastated this hasn't had international distribution.

As others see us: NuNew's 'Awful' Performance in BABYMONSTER's 'SHEESH' Goes Viral - I don't like BL being noticed by Kpop stans. I flipping LOATHE this song and I'm not wild about Babym. This is all 'round uncomfortable making and I want it to stop.

Next Week Looks Like This:

Upcoming BLs for 2024 are listed here. This list is not kept updated, so please leave a comment if you know something new or RP with additions.

June Releases Still Coming

6/26 The Rebound (Thai Weds Gaga) - MeenPing are back in their 3rd BL together, a basketball based romance (Meen was a national basketball player, so yay for that). I like this pair better than most (I still do miss Meen with Est but Est has a fantastic looking new BL coming from GMMTV so yeah...) Anyway I'm up for a sports romance starring a man who, yah know, actually played that sport so... I'm game (pun intended).

6/26 I Hear the Sunspot AKA Hidamari ga Kikoeru (Japan Weds Gaga) 10 eps - A new series adaptation of beloved yaoi I Hear the Sunspot (first adaptation was feature film Silhouette of Your Voice 2017).

THIS WEEK’S BEST MOMENTS

Forget "boyfriends but they don't realize it." These two are married but they don't realize it.

Praise be, he didn't leave his full drink behind. BEST BOY.

It was a great make out sesh.

THAT LIP BITE.

All round excellent ep this week, We Are Cuties.

Top tier flirting banker from the fuck buddies though. Man, their innuendo is on point. And I do mean that point. (Wandee Goodday)

(Last week)

Streaming services are listed by how I (usually) watch, which is with a USA based IP, and often offset by a day because time zones are a pain.

The tag BLigade: @doorajar @solitaryandwandering @my-rose-tinted-glasses @babymbbatinygirl @babymbbatinygirl @isisanna-blog @mmastertheone @pickletrip @aliceisathome @urikawa-miyuki @tokillamonger @sunflower-positiiivity

@rocketturtle4 @blglplus @anythinggoesintheshire @everlightly @renafire @mestizashinrin @bl-bam-beyond @small-dark-and-delicious @saezurumurmurs

Sigh, Tumblr in it's infinite wisdom doesn't like too many tags.

There's these tricks, remember.

[missmugiwara]

If I May Be So Bold

Summary: fem!reader x Rengoku // You, Rengoku, Uzui and the boys go to the Red Light District. You agree to go undercover as an oiran, but you can't help feel some type of way for the Flame Hashira. Perhaps this mission will bring you two closer. Warning: 18+, NSFW, slight smut, some dubious consent (in the form of kissing), swearing, mutual pining, friends to lovers Note: Took me forever to edit! This is a bit of a long read. Hope you all enjoy!

Everything went smoother than planned. Tengen and Rengoku did a fantastic job talking you and the three young slayers up (although the Hashiras' good looks really helped). On the first night everyone had successfully infiltrated a house in the Red Light District. Ironically, Inosuke and you had been snatched up together for House Ogimoto. Besides that, it was a relief to know someone was with you to make this a tad more bearable. So off went Tengen and Rengoku to do some snooping around as you gathered intel with the boar-headed boy.

A light knock at the door to your room interrupted your thoughts.

Softly, you called, "Come in."

When Rengoku slid open the shoji door, you blinked in shock . Instantly, you hopped up from your seat at the vanity. Strange that he was here even though you agreed to meet for a report tomorrow. Yet by the look on his face, something was on his mind. Quickly, you trotted to his side, urgently closing the door before turning to him. Gladly, you would listen to Rengoku's troubles. Without thought, you grabbed his hands in your own.

"Kyojuro, what are you doing here? Did something happen?"

For a split second, he did not respond as his striking eyes took a moment to gaze upon the beguiling disguise that adorned you. Then, those beautiful fire-like eyes flickered to meet yours.

He smiled gently, running his thumbs over the backs of your hands once, "Nothing at all! I came to check and see if you were alright."

A pause stilled the air. You could feel your cheeks heat slightly, and you snickered. Was he serious right now? You were a Hashira too - one of the strongest members of the corps just like he was. Even if Rengoku had become a Hashira years earlier than you, you were still just as strong. Plus, you were Tengen's tsugoku a while back, so Rengoku knew you were trained well and by someone he respected. It was not like him to worry like this.

"Why?" you shook your head - realizing that sounded kind of rude, "I mean, I'm fine! You know I can take care of myself."

"I know, but… I just had to make sure."

His eyes said otherwise. Something was bothering him. The relationship between you two allowed you to understand each other deeply and emotionally. After all, you had been close friends for years. Together, you had been through a lot. There was never anything that prevented you from speaking your mind in front of him because he truly respected you - mind, body, and soul.

A warm smile graced your lips at the sweet gesture. A slight flush heated up your cheeks. You looked down. The honorable Flame Hashira holding the hands of the lovely Hashira-turned-oiran. It warmed your heart knowing he was comfortable enough to do this. Rengoku could be very protective when it came to you, so it made sense that the possibility of being with other men in this district bothered him greatly. He just hid it well. Really, he did not have to worry.

But thanks to Tengen's flashy ideas, you were an oiran for the next few days. An oiran. Rengoku - just knowing him - probably was not accustomed to women of this caliber.

"Are you sure you're not here for… something else?" You asked with lidded eyes. Slowly, you moved your hands to brush up against Rengoku's chest as his face blossomed into a blush.

"Uh, n-no! No, I-"

You tilted your head to the side with a grin.

"Just messing with you! I appreciate your concern, but really… I'm fine. You don't have to worry about me."

The Hashira was stiff for a few seconds in recovery from your bold teasing. What a cruel joke, and he played right into your hands. After another moment, Rengoku softened his gaze. His parted lips turned into a smile.

"Very well! Just let me know if you ever need me, my beautiful oiran. I'll be close."

His beautiful…? Was that a slip of the tongue? It couldn't be because Rengoku was not someone who made mistakes. You shook off your flustered state, taking your focus back to the mission. You had to make sure everyone would be safe. So when the Flame Hashira began to walk off, you realized you wanted to protect him too from anything. Even if he was strong. Ah, perhaps that's what he was conveying earlier. Without thinking, you reached out and grabbed the fabric of his uniform. Your fingers curled around his arm.

"Wait!"

He froze before the door could even slide open. Gently, he turned towards you with a look of surprise. Using all your strength to muster up the courage for what you would say next, you simply stared at the ground and bit your bottom lip. Rengoku could sense something was not right much like you did earlier for him.

"Tell me what's wrong." he instantly uttered out in a low, protective tone.

A pause.

And then you broke out into laughter.

"I can't let you leave looking like that!" you grinned widely.

Kyojuro's brow twitched in surprise at the sudden change in your mood. He seemed amused.

"Oh? Like what?"

Still holding onto his arm, you tugged gently at it. He was captivated as you pulled him close to your body, following your movements about the room.

"People will get suspicious. Come on, you have to look the part!" you danced over to the vanity, searching for lipstick. Once you found it, you ran it over your lips a few times, puckering them in the mirror.

Then, you turned to Rengoku who simply blinked at you.

"I… don't understand. Please tell me what you mean!"

There was a blush at this cheeks. The color complimented his sweet eyes. You hummed while walking over to him. Still smiling sweetly, you ran your hands over his shoulders.

"Do you trust me?" your hands froze once they reached his neck.

Rengoku looked at your lips for some time before he darted his eyes to meet yours.

"Of course I do!"

"Good boy."

Before Rengoku could even speak, your hands grabbed at the collar of his uniform, ripping it open to pop a few buttons off. Rengoku's breath hitched in his chest, and he seemed to gasp - that is, before he stopped himself as you exposed his neck and part of his chest by running your manicured hands underneath the cloth and over his skin.

"Please forgive me!"

With your hands at his collar again, you pulled him in and slammed your mouth to his neck. His eyes widened as you held him for a few seconds, then you breathily released him with a pop of your lips. A swollen, light bruise plus a bright, red lipstick stamp of your mouth was now evident on his neck. Rengoku was stunned. You grinned sheepishly before pulling the Flame Hashira in again, smothering his face with kisses over and over - then all the way down his neck and part of his chest. Once done with your work of art, you pulled away to leave Rengoku completely frozen in place before he broke out into a goofy, lopsided smile. He was blushing profusely. Had he ever been kissed like that before? Had you ever kissed anyone like that before?

"There." you smoothed the uniform at this chest, smiling proudly, "All for the mission."

"Yes! For the mission!" he repeated, but there was something in his tone when he uttered those words and a smirk upon his face. You gingerly let go of his uniform, apologizing for making a mess out of him - blushing as you kept staring at his lips. Did you cross a line with Rengoku? Hopefully not. But as you kept focusing on those gorgeous lips of his, you felt butterflies in your stomach. It was the only part you didn't kiss because Rengoku was your friend. You couldn't possibly test this friendship further. You would never want to do that.

The sound of his voice brought you back to earth, and his hand upon your cheek grounded you. He leaned in to touch his forehead to yours.

"You really are a tease," Rengoku whispered, eyes becoming lidded, "and you always have been."

Time seemed to have stopped as you both stood there momentarily, just gazing into each other's eyes. His hand was so hot - it felt like it was setting your entire being on fire. You froze in place while clutching your hands to your chest. Just fixated on his glowing eyes. He certainly made a flustering mess of you. It seemed Rengoku knew how flustered you were, and he seemed to be enjoying it immensely.

He smiled so widely that his eyes closed. "Well, I shall be going now!"

What a shame. He was leaving already when you both only wanted more. Although, neither of you dared to say it outloud because you were just friends. This made you both all the more foolish.

"Uh, y-yes!" you dumbly responded, eyes still sparkling from this intimate moment. At how unexpectedly sexy Rengoku was. At how flirtatious he was. You followed the Hashira to the door as he placed his hand on it. He paused and looked to you one more time.

"There is… one more thing." he murmured.

"Of course! What is it?"

"If I may be so bold… you missed a spot."

Your eyes widened. No, he couldn't be! He wasn't referring to his lips, was he?

Was he!?

Because he seemed distracted enough by all the bites and kisses all over him, you were hoping he had forgotten about that little detail. Well, actually - you weren't hoping that at all. But this was so unexpected! Oh gosh, and kissing him? Rengoku? On the mouth? Oh yes, that would be amazing, but wait, right now? You broke out into a sweat.

"Um… come again?"

"Apologies, but won't it look rather suspicious that the only part of me you haven't kissed is my lips?"

By the look on your face, shocked eyes and parted lips, not responding to his question at all - Rengoku twitched nervously. Perhaps he asked too much of you! And instantly, he bowed.

"I apologize! I should have never suggested such a thing! That was inappropriate of me to even-"

"It's okay!"

He froze this time.

"It's okay. I don't mind. It's… all for the mission, right?" you bashfully smiled.

After a brief pause, Rengoku whispered, "Yes. All for the mission." And so you stepped forward, placing your hands on his shoulders. He leaned in, and you leaned in all the while both of you uttered apologies and whatnot for moving so slow, for pretty much any stupid little thing that didn't even need an apology. Stuttering voices, trembling hands, flushed cheeks - really, what a sight to behold as two confident, adult hashira were fumbling around in nervousness. Allowing this little moment to crumble their defenses.

Quickly, you pressed your lips against each other's, and you both parted. The red lipstick painted a pretty picture of your mouth that was once on Rengoku's. This was not the ideal moment in which you wanted to kiss for the first time, and you wished you could have made it last a bit longer, but you were friends. Just friends. At least you got to taste him if just for a little bit. Seeming as neither of you two made a movement, Rengoku responded first to ease the silence.

"I'll come again tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night, Kyojuro."

All for the mission.

Stupid.

Rengoku did come back the next evening for he always kept his word. He insisted it was just to check in and make sure you were safe. You told him everything was perfect and that no one had bothered you all day. In fact, Rengoku appeared nightly, and every night he reminded you to mark him up to your heart's content.

Including his sweet mouth.

Oh, because it was for the sake of the mission! To protect you both, obviously! Nothing more. Who were you to deny him? He was the expert here on missions and had been a Hashira longer. Happily, you agreed. Yet how much fun it was, how good it felt, but all for the sake of work and protecting one another. The low giggles, the flirty whispers - all of it so tantalizingly sweet and left you burning for more. So this display of unkempt clothes, disheveled hair, and kissing repeated itself every night. No matter how naive you both might have been.

However, one particular night was quite worrisome. Rengoku appeared at your door as usual, and you swiftly pulled him in - detailing him right away of some potential rumors Inosuke heard. You were so frazzled by the intel that you were quickly scooting Rengoku out of the room in a hurry.

"I'll get more information, just please be safe! Inosuke and I will meet with Tengen later! I wish I could have done more, but I'm working on it!"

His feet skidded across the floor as he tried to stop you from pushing him. You slid the door open, pushed him abruptly into the hall, and were about to slam it shut but Rengoku whipped around and caught it in his hand. He then grabbed your arm quickly in turn. You gasped in surprise at the way his hand needily grasped at your skin. The door slid shut behind him so quickly as he pushed you back into the room.

Rengoku pulled you to him so roughly that you nearly bounced off his chest from the impact. His arms around your waist kept you steady as he clutched your body close. Your face was on fire as you locked eyes - a look of something ignited in his, a look of arousal in yours. Your fingers gripped his uniform tightly at the chest. Before you could speak, Rengoku slammed his mouth against yours. You let out a squeak. Rengoku's one hand was in your hair while the other arm was so strongly, tightly wrapped around your waist. You froze in shock, but then you melted because god, you needed him badly. This was different than the other times you two had messed around and innocently kissed - though it was not innocent in the least. Rengoku had never embraced you so desperately before. After a few seconds, he pulled away. You stared at him with wide, frazzled eyes.

Rengoku grinned, "Oh! Apologies! You know… we just need to look the part! All for the sake of the mission! You nearly forgot."

"Yes!" you yelped with a stupid, lovestruck smile, "The mission!"

The mission?

The mission?

Fuck the mission.

What about that kiss!?

That was not like the quick pecks from before! Because Rengoku did that with feeling. You couldn't pretend anymore! You wanted more, you wanted him, and you always wanted him. For as long as you could remember. But you never did anything because he was just a friend, and you were frightened that that friendship may be ruined. Did he… want you just as badly? Oh, but this was all wrong. It was not the way you wanted to woo him. This had been pushed on for far too long now to solely be considered something two friends did.

Rengoku quickly excused himself for the evening and bid you good night as you stood there, frozen and hot and bothered. Snapping out of it, you reached for his wrist. When the Flame Hashira turned to you with concerned eyes, you gripped his wrist tighter between your hands.

"Stay!"

There was such a needy tone in your voice, but you didn't care how embarrassing it was. You already made a fool of yourself every single night with these lies - kissing just for the mission? What was that crap?

"Please? For me." you begged. Your voice was wavering, a slight crack to it as you cleared your throat. It seemed you were about to cry, and it was not something you did often in front of him. His eyes pulsed at the pleading look you gave him. Rengoku did not hesitate in the slightest.

"Of course. I'm always here for you."

Again, he joined you in your room. It was wonderful that he did, but now that you had gotten to this point… you both were unsure of what to do next. Just like the first night, you were holding his hands in your own - just staring into his eyes while frowning, blinking again and again to stop tears from falling.

Rengoku's breath hitched in his chest at the sight. No. He couldn't stand seeing you like this, on the verge of tears and all. Something was making you sad. And even worse, for a split second, he thought - did he cause this? He would never allow it. Another moment of reflection and Rengoku was certain what to do next.

"This is foolish."

You blinked, "I… Oh… what is?"

He cradled your face in his hands gently after you sniffed, an attempt at trying to choke back tears. It was such a soft hold, and you craved that longing touch from such a gentle soul like Rengoku. Only Rengoku could ever do. He ran his thumbs somewhat roughly over your cheeks, smearing any makeup upon your face.

"This disguise. Everything. It's foolish! I'm sorry Tengen came up with such a ridiculous idea. I'm sorry he threw you into this." he smiled gently, and you blinked when he removed a hand from your face.

Lips pursed in thought, he titled his head to the side and hummed at you with lidded eyes. His tongue poked out between his lips, and he brought his thumb to them. He licked his thumb, then ran it slowly over your own lips. An attempt at washing away the lipstick with his own saliva. You whimpered at the touch. The gesture was so incredibly hot and watching him with those gorgeous eyes made it even hotter.

Your heart thumped in your chest especially when his hands moved to your hair. He gracefully took out any pins or accessories, and although such a simple act, it was so intimate. Letting your hair cascade down your face, you blushed when you tilted your head downward to just stare at his chest. When Rengoku was done, he softly placed the hair accessories at your vanity. He glided back to you, holding your face so sweetly in his hands once again.

"Seeing you like this, all dressed up and with this make-up… as tempting as it is, I find you much more beautiful without it."

His thumbs brushed against your cheeks. Rengoku's lips parted in deep thought, and he looked at you with such adoration in his beautiful eyes. You laid your hands against his chest as your face heated up. His hands moved down your arms to wrap around your waist. Your eyes became lidded, and his expression soon mirrored yours as you both slowly leaned in. He paused and ran a single finger over your lips.

"I won't be able to control myself much longer." he breathed. "Please, I need you to kiss me."

"Is… is it for the mission?"

"No. It's because I would like you to."

You grinned while stroking the side of his face, "Well, good. Because I definitely want to."

With that, he closed the gap between your mouths. Your eyes shut immediately when his soft, perfect lips pressed against yours. A simple, gentle kiss - but when you let out a moan against his mouth, Rengoku's arms tightened around your waist to increase the friction between your bodies. Your hands shot up to grab his hair, deepening the kiss as your mouths began to slowly move against one another's, leaving gentle smacking sounds to fill the air. He groaned once your tongue ran along his bottom lip, and in turn he gently bit down on it. You heart was thundering in your ribcage when you pulled away, only to find the Flame Hashira smirking.

"May I stay even longer?"

A chuckle escaped past your lips. You did not even care how ridiculous your expression was or how ridiculous the half-smeared makeup on your face must have looked.

"You can stay as long as you want."

And you leaned in again to lock lips, throwing you arms around each other. His mouth moved so quickly and desperately against your own, letting out small groans between your whines of pleasure. You pressed your body closer to his, hips grinding needily against his own. Your tongue danced across his bottom lip again, into his mouth, before he lifted you up by your thighs to wrap them around his waist and seated you at the vanity, knocking over anything in the process when your bottom slid across the surface. Mouths still connected, Rengoku's hand parted your thighs further, and you moaned when one skillful hand brushed up the inner length of your thigh underneath your kimono. Swiftly, you grabbed his other hand and placed it atop your breast, but Rengoku immediately pulled back. Your eyes snapped open to meet his, and he was blushing profusely at the sight of you two - hot and bothered and needy. You threw your hands off him.

You flushed, "I-I'm sorry! Is everything okay?"

Rengoku took a moment to steady his breath, and he leaned in with a smile on his face. He pressed his forehead to yours.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't do this. Not here, not like this." he spoke between pants, and you stroked his cheek with your hand.

A blush appeared on your face again. With a determined look in his eyes, and his usual confident smile, he gripped your hand between his own.

"Please wait for me! Wait until after this mission is over, and I can take you on a proper date!"

"Kyojuro, I -"

"Well, well, well." Tengen smirked, who was seated at the edge of your window.

Rengoku and you peeled yourself off each other, scrambling to look decent as you both turned to see the sound hashira. When did he arrive? How long was he there? Ugh, he was always like this! It drove you nuts when you were a tsuguko.

"I've been waiting for you two to get together for forever now!"

"How long have you been here!?"

"Not important." Tengen shrugged his shoulders, "I'm disappointed I caught you two goofing off when we should be working." he smirked again, and you arched a brow at this.

Because the way Tengen said that made it seem like he wanted this to happen. As his former student, you knew him well.

"But I can overlook it because," his eyes became lidded, "this was all a part of my flashy plan. Though I wasn't expecting this to happen so soon. Way to go, pupil!"

"TENGEN. I AM A HASHIRA. NOT YOUR STUDENT ANYMORE."

Rengoku let out a roar of a laugh at your flustered state. He waltzed right over to Tengen and slapped a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"How embarrassing for us! I am utterly ashamed! Apologies, Tengen! It won't happen again!"

You groaned in defeat. Of course Rengoku would laugh it off. The two Hashira turned toward you, both smiling and quickly getting over whatever this was.

"Ah, and I heard something interesting, Rengoku!"

Tengen readjusted himself at the window, "I heard our stunning courtesan here wasn't getting any calls, so I wondered why and went snooping around."

"O-Oh, did you now!?" Rengoku blurted out.

"Yes, and you'll never believe what I heard!" Tengen smirked wickedly, "I heard from the owner that every night, a gentleman of yellow and red hair drops a pouch of coins onto the desk asking for our sweetheart here. The owner said this man's exact words were: 'This should be more than enough to cover her. No one shall have her. She's mine.' Wanna tell us about that, Rengoku?"

His face was on fire as Tengen smiled sweetly. Not a care in the world from the Sound Hashira. You cupped a hand to your mouth to stifle your giggles, grinning innocently at Rengoku's reddening blush.

Well.

Tengen could be reliable as much as he drove you crazy.

[rocketbirdie]

fic recs pls zakkura legend?

YOU'VE ACTIVATED MY TRAP CARD

recs below the cut, in no particular order:

and things never change by andrewwtca

My personal favorite fic of all time. This one's a little less zakkura and a LOT more doomed post-AC Cloud+Tifa. Cloud mourns Zack, Tifa mourns Aerith, they try so hard to find comfort in one another, but things never change. This fic unlocked new sensations in me that I didn't even know existed, like guttural heartbreak so brutal that it makes you dry heave. If that sounds like your idea of a fun evening, give it a try!

skadii

Literally everything from skadii. This author right here is the true legend of zakkura fics. I can't really summarize it because they're all SO GOOD. Just. *chef's kiss* *EXPLODES, BADLY*

Mako-Soaked Kintsugi Bathed in Brutal Daylight by FeralSunshine22

While on the run from Shinra, Zack and Cloud take a tumble through spacetime and wind up in the FF15 universe, where they reunite with Kunsel. Now that they're safe, Zack has a LOT to process mentally about the shit they've been through in the past few years. This fic is the most realistic depiction of PTSD and recovery from a coma that I've ever read. Even if you know next to nothing about the FF15 universe (like me!), the writer does a fantastic job of easing you into this unfamiliar world.

the only one for me (Light of the Universe) by anonymous

Craving something wildly out of character? Desperately need a dose of dark!Zack? This one's an acquired taste, but if you're looking for some jaw-dropping plot twists and morally objectionable behavior, then I can absolutely recommend this 4-part fic in which an obsessed stalker Cloud gets a teeensy bit more than he bargained for. This author has several other lovingly crafted zakkura fics as well!

Hello Once Again by hrelics9

An interpretation of the consequences of Remake's ending, a Zack lives AU that follows many of the plot points of the OG, while exploring Aerith's powers as an ancient, and Jenova's powers as an eldritch monstrosity. Zakkura mind-melding content! Sadly, this fic was never completed, but the almost 300,000 words that we do have are awe-inspiring.

not the same as loneliness by crookedspoon

Cloud is in a coma. Zack is trying to hold it together for both of their sakes. But as time goes, it gets more and more difficult for Zack to cope with the isolation. Short and sweet, very dubious consent. Highly recommended.

This is by no means a complete list, just a couple favs off the top of my head. Happy reading!!

[blood-orange-juice]

Ok, Childe as a wuxia/xianxia trope. It's honestly a bit embarrassing how well this fits.

(blame @a-yarn-of-purple-prose for this post and if anyone here is a wuxia fan feel free to correct me, I'm new to the genre)

Wuxia is a Chinese martial arts fantasy genre you are all familiar with. An adjacent genre is called xianxia, "immortal heroes", it ramps all the fantasy elements up to eleven and skews tropes a bit (we'll get back to that).

A common trope is some kind of unorthodox school/sect or technique, allowing to achieve greater power without the usual decades of training. It could be straight-out evil or just revolving around chaos.

Such a martial school is usually called an evil/demonic sect (sect is more like a clan in that setting, not the modern concept of sect) and their techniques tend to drive practitioners to insanity. Either because they are inherently corrupting or because getting too much power without growing as a person is really not the best thing for your mental health. They are also often cast from hp points.

And then there's the archetype of a demonic sect heir. The best pupil or simply someone who has inherited a lost art. Proud, always greedy for more strength, often noble in some weird way.

*points to our calamity of a boy*

Common elements of such stories include:

Falling into some weird realm or meeting a weird person who teaches the hero a Forbidden Technique

Learning a technique too quickly through some sort of magic/alchemy/memory manipulation

Some people are so singular in their pursuit they become insane (走火入魔)

Ambition bad, loyalty and family good

Conflicting loyalties, generally a conflict between a chosen path and personal weaknesses/attachments (could be both ego and familal love, and this is more of a xianxia trope)

Fits like a horoscope so far but wait.

There's a very interesting case of Korean murim genre (their version of wuxia) where sects are less varied (I recommend this post for a basic introduction) and we get three paths:

Justice/Righteous/Orthodox/Light — theoretically they keep the Evil Faction at bay, and protect innocent people, but usually are corrupt to the core

Evil/Unorthodox/Dark — these try gaining as much power as possible and attempt ruling the whole world

Demonic Cult — usually dont take part in evil and justice battles, follow their own code of conduct based on their religion, value strength above all else.

(I'm sure there's a similar distinction in wuxia too, I just can't find it in the deluge of lore)

"Demonic" is closer to "pagan" or "heathen" than Christian idea of demonic here, their beliefs are often based on Zoroastrianism and worshipping a sacred flame. Do you remember all the Persian themes used for Khaenri'ah? And Surtalogi being the flame on Surtr's sword in Norse mythology. I also had the impression that Genshin gnostic references are based on the Zoroastrian-flavoured branch of Gnosticism.

In murim the trope of demonic sect heir is called "heavenly demon" (I believe, a more correct translation would be "supreme heathen"), they are utterly badass, live for the glory of battle, seem more like forces of nature and follow a very strict honour code often conflicting with normal human ethics.

(do I need to spell it out)

TvTropes also says this about Korean stories:

(do I need to spell it out pt.2)

I'm not sure why a Chinese studio would focus on the Korean version of this trope but I'm sure something like this exists in China as well or maybe there's a popular manhwa that inspired authors.

Xianxia extends the fantastic element further, focusing on Taoist concepts and practices and adding all kinds of magical realms (celestial, demonic, etc) and magical beings and making immortality achievable. I still need to read more about it but if I understand that right, demonic heir trope turns into a demon prince in this case. An actual visitor from the demon realm or a practitioner who achieved immortality through dubious means.

These are fae-coded in a way very similar to Childe and have a certain nonchalance towards things most humans would consider traumatic. They are simply not bothered by them, having a different set of morals or faring from a realm that is much worse.

Our boy isn't that (he's still very much human) but he's aesthetically coded like one, same as Scaramouche is yokai-coded, despite not being a yokai.

So. When people say Childe's arc is a reference to Journey to the West, it's not entirely untrue, JttW is the classic of xianxia genre and Childe does belong to the same genre. He, however, is not Sun Wukong but a different, darker trope.

This also explains why he has that "shonen anime protag but not quite" vibe. Shonen was heavily influenced by wuxia but this trope never quite made it to anime or maybe never became popular enough. It's not a deconstruction, it's a different story. Or perhaps a deconstruction of that different story.

[muffinrecord]

I've been pretty positive about Yuu so far, but watching her magical girl story... hmm.

Basically I like everything about Yuu, but man that serial killer bit is the only thing that really sticks out as an overt bad choice. Having Nagisa stand around and watch Yuu kill people is such a weird choice, it feels more like fanfic than actual canon. Like this doesn't feel like something that could happen in Magia Record-- or hell, even in Madoka Magica either.

For example, Sayaka has a scene on a train where some dudes are being sexist assholes and it's left up to the viewer to decide if she kills them or not. It doesn't go: Sayaka killed them and also they were calling out for help the entire time while Madoka watched you know?

That said, this is something I can see in a bunch of the spinoffs (Kazumi, Oriko, Suzune), but I think everyone agrees that the spinoffs are of dubious quality. I love me the spinoffs but they're a hot mess.

I dunno. It's one thing to know that Yuu is a serial killer, it's another thing to have a character watch her go around and kill people and not intervene in any way. Especially in a story that goes out of its way to not do that. Walpy hitting Kamihama is noted to have no causalities at all (which goes a little too far in the other direction imo but it is what it is), Suzune isn't able to kill anyone in Kamihama and is dealt with by kicking her out (and not killing her), the deaths in arc 2 are mostly accidental and have massive consequences, everyone is forgiven in the end-- this isn't a story that really has "watch someone kill people and do nothing" in it's cards, you know?

I actually liked Nagisa's Wish for a lot of things. For example, I like that Nagisa didn't think she could be a magical girl until she saw Yuu, because she assumed that magical girls had to be good people-- aka, Nagisa did not think she was good. But that's not because Nagisa is a bad person. Nagisa is just unloved, and since she's a young kid, she's internalized that to mean that something is wrong with her, not that something is wrong with her mom. It's heartbreaking to see her go from "I can't be a magical girl," to seeing Yuu the murderer, to then going "oh okay if she can be a magical girl then so can I." Like sweet pea, your mother not loving you is not the same as being a killer. You've done nothing wrong. You are not a bad person for having Feelings and Emotions about the neglect you are experiencing.

However the serial killer/organ seller bit just goes too far for me and it kind of overshadows a lot of the better ideas present in Nagisa's Wish. Like how can you focus on the interesting ideas about justice or self worth when there is a serial killer/organ stealer walking around.

I think that the best qualities of Yuu are her design and how creepy she is-- having her actually go all the way and be a serial killer/organ seller actually makes her less creepy in my opinion. Yada yada, less is more, leave it up to the viewer's imagination. If she was just off, if we just knew that something was wrong with her and that people are disappearing but it's not outright stated what she's doing... I dunno. That would make her a lot more scary to me. A lot of fear can be found in apprehension and outright telling all the details will fill in too many gaps.

Like, the things that we all like about Yuu would be her voice direction, her memory issues, the way her Live2D is designed to be slightly off kilter from everyone else, the gap between her attitude and the darkness she engages in, the weird weaponry she uses and how it changes the way she walks/moves-- all of this is effective because it is offputting and different, not because the narrative is telling us "hey she kills people and sells their organs."

Basically I really love Yuu, but I do have some criticisms for her character and I understand why some folks don't like her.

That said, it did lead to this fantastic line from Kyubey so like,

You take some, you lose some.

[yanderes-galore]

your prompts 53, 60, 29 with lmk Red-son Pleas <3

I can try, sure! Sorry if something is OOC... still new to the fandom :) I'm only on like Season 2 currently but I LOVE it so far!

I know Red Son should be a very prideful yandere... but I also like the idea of him being soft once he finds the one he adores.

Yandere! Red Son Prompts 53, 60, 29

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?"

"You feel like you're being stalked? Tell me all about it...."

"I want to be this close... forever...."

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Obsession, Denial, Manipulation, Clingy behavior implied, Stalking, OOC soft yandere (?), Somewhat lucid yandere, Dubious companionship/relationship.

Red Son never really found the appeal of such close affection. It wasn't something he experienced that often as a demon. Leading him to feel rather guilty or embarrassed upon receiving it.

Red Son barely had any friends. Always so arrogant and dramatic, often associated with the Demon Bull King. He didn't mind... he didn't think he needed such a thing.

Then he met you, always hanging around MK and his friends...

He couldn't get you out of his head after that.

You are the only person he could consider himself close to other than his family. It took him a long time to be able to approach you... yet he did eventually. Now you're no doubt one of his only friends.

Which leads him getting a bit too attached... a thought that embarrasses him to his core.

However... Red Son yearns for approval. He yearns for your attention. Sometimes the only way to get such attention is by calling you, or spying on you.

You can tell how close Red Son wishes to be with you through every call. Finally discovering a new friend and possible crush he wants to be around all the time. He was originally uncomfortable being vulnerable with others due to his heritage.

You became the only one he could vent to and be open with.

His phone calls are often moments of vulnerability, ranting to you and bragging about things he's done. Although his calls become so frequent you can't answer all the time. Which leads to a frantic Red Son finding you with worry in his eyes.

"I left you a few voice mails, why didn't you pick up?" He often asks, uncharacteristically clingy towards you. At first, you really can't blame him. You are his closest bond, after all.

Then you start to feel like you're being watched.

Red Son already considers himself villainous. Surely "stalking" is a villainous way of "courting", right? It's supposed to feel wrong... right?

Red Son tries to keep such urges and activities private. Yet the demon can tell you're nervous whenever he's around. Do you know?

Eventually he visits you, knocking on your door to see you open it. The demon surprisingly frowns when he sees the fear in your eyes.

But he acts curious, like the attentive "friend" he is, asking you what's wrong.

"I feel like someone's watching me when I'm alone." He hears you whisper. His heart nearly stops but he continues to play his part.

"You feel like you're being stalked? Tell me all about it...." Red Son answers, sitting beside you in your home. The heat inside of him flares when you look at him with sad scared eyes.

Red Son wasn't expecting to be the one you confide in. He isn't used to it... and part of him feels guilty that he caused it. Yet at the same time...

Your attention feels fantastic.

Even when you ask to hug him, Red Son was expecting himself to say no. But... with a red hot heat in his cheeks, he finds himself pulling you close. He's the one to cause you torment... yet he's also the one to provide you comfort...

He should feel bad... but he's beginning to like it.

"I want to be this close... forever...." He finds himself whispering to mostly himself, his grip digging into your sides. The feeling is addicting. So much so Red Son hopes you never find out that he's the cause of your problems.

Yet eventually you will... he'll slip and you find out his dirty little secrets...

Leading to him to find a way to create a mechanical prison to keep his dearest companion beside him.

[shibara]

Ok, so, for a while now I've been inhaling husborth's fics, and a few weeks ago it reached the quantum stage where so much fic had entered my brain, art had to come out.

This is a bit of a collage of my favourite scenes from Mythology, a fic series I cannot recommend enough if you want to have MASSIVE FEELINGS, and read about complicated family reunions and the aftermath of highly dubious medical procedures. There's something in the looped patterns in which themes move in those fics that made me want to work in circles. Little phrases and ideas return over and over, taking the story back and forth until it reaches the end and I think that was great.

@husborth thanks so much for writing these fantastic stories and for sharing them with us all. They've given me a fuck ton of hours of happiness and lit up my art brain like a little bonfire ^ ^

[gemsofgreece]

Hello.

I come from @alatismeni-theitsa 's blog from a question.

Is it true that you have an ancient greece clothing masterpost?

Because I wanted to make a design for a character based on the clothing from any of these eras.

But since in this case I realized that I wanted to take a couple of creative liberties (is almost like ancient greece meets steampunk lol) I wanted to have a proper idea of what to do before I even attempt to wing it and end up with a cringeworthy and even insulting piece.

Soooo... Do you think you could help me?

Hi! Actually I do not have an Ancient Greek clothing masterpost. I have an extensive post (wouldn't call it a masterpost though) about Byzantine Greek clothing, maybe that's what @alatismeni-theitsa remembered. Linking it here for good measure.

As for ancient clothing, I have sporadically answered a couple relevant asks.

Ancient clothing for winter

Large post mostly about the hem length of women's attires (but it's both for modern and ancient)

General ancient Greek beauty standards

A bit more about the attires of the Archaic and Classical period plus about the little known kalyptra veil

That's all I've got.

As for what could make it an insulting piece: Given that you are going for an entirely fantastical concept, steampunk meets Ancient Greece, I don't think it can be insulting as there is nothing dubious about combining two eras that are 2000 years apart (industrial revolution and ancient Greece), it's pure straightforward fantasy, nothing shady, I assume everyone will be able to figure this out. But maybe just combine Grecian fashion elements only with the goggles and the machinery and whatnot, as opposed to combining, say, Victorian corsets and laces and boots with Greek chitons, because then there would be questions as to why Greek historical fashion appears anglicized or vice versa. I guess. It could still work but it would need a solid backstory for the character and to what led them to this unlikely mix. As for potentially mixing different Greek era clothes (intentionally or accidentally), honestly I don't see an issue with this because I mean one garment is Greek and the other is also Greek, like, I don't see a problem there. It would be anachronistic but, well, it's fantasy, of course it's anachronistic. That's my reasoning, I don't guarantee everyone thinks like me but I don't think there would be anything controversial in your art. The fact alone that you are asking what to not do shows that you don't intend to do something offensive. Just don't bend or appropriate the ethnicity, that's all.

[headcanonsandmore]

Sergeant Benton with every Doctor (1-13)

1- I get the sense that One's initial dislike of being questioned would soften a little when dealing with Benton's sweet earnestness. Especially if Benton risks his own life to save Susan (because of course he would).

2- On the rare occasions where Two interacted with Benton, they seem to get along perfectly fine. I think that if Benton was around full time, he'd definitely develop a strong friendship with him. And, of course, Benton and Jamie would get along super well.

3- As we all know, Three was the closest to Benton out of the incarnations who met him, but I think Benton being a fully-fledged traveling companion would put an interesting spin on things. I think Benton would have a great time, although he would probably get tons of marriage proposals from the inhabitants of planets they'd travel to (I mean, he is super lovely, after all). And I'm sure Jo Grant would appreciate having her himbo bestie around.

4- Four liked Benton the most out of the UNIT soldiers he interacted with, so no surprises that he'd appreciate having Benton as a traveling companion a lot. I imagine Sarah-Jane would also appreciate a sweet himbo to bounce ideas off (especially since Benton is basically the opposite of Harry Sullivan in every way).

5- Five would get along so well with Benton, it's unreal. Benton is such a calming influence that Five would have him around just to chat over tea with. I also think the most personable of the classic Doctors would appreciate Benton's down-to-earth nature and sense of cheery humour. Also, Benton is the only UNIT man that Tegan and Nyssa would actually like, and we all know those two need at least one himbo third wheel with them at any given moment (Benton tries to sneak date money into Tegan's purse so she can take Nyssa to a cinema, Tegan gets flustered and turns bright red, Nyssa is confused but pleased nonetheless).

6- Benton would not only be able to restrain Six during his initial regeneration mood swings, but he'd also help Peri acclimatise to the situation. Mel would probably remind him a bit of Jo Grant, and he'd naturally fit into being her best friend.

7- Listen, I don't want to split up the duo of Seven and Ace, but -if I had to- Benton would slot in well. He'd be able to see through Seven's manipulations as well as acting like a sweet big brother to Ace. He'd probably get a little worried about all the pyrotechnics, though.

8- Eight would either have a slight crush on Benton, or try manipulating him into a scheme of dubious morality. Either way, Benton would have a hard time dealing with this eldritch figure. He'd probably get along well with Eight's rotating line-up of queer companions, though.

9- God-tier duo. Can you imagine human golden retriever Benton being around Nine? Nine; the incarnation with a boat-load of trauma and guilt who just wants to save people? Well, Benton's making him take a day off at the beach with some ice cream, plus some healthy discussion of emotions and wellbeing. He'd save that time lord's life just by being his friend, and it would be fantastic.

10- To be honest, I wouldn't be surprised if Benton got exasperated with Ten at times, especially with how he treated Martha. Also, that whole "Time Lord Victorious" thing? Couldn't happen with Benton there. Doc, I dunno about the nature of time, but you're supposed to help people, not decide who's important and who isn't *upset puppy dog eyes intensify* *Ten immediately reverts back to normal*. Oh, but can you imagine Benton around Donna? That would be amazing.

11- I feel like Benton would probably calm down Eleven's energy a bit, and would also be a nice calming influence on all the TARDIS crew. He'd also probably be a little confused by River Song, just in general. Also, he'd tell tons of embarrassing stories from when he used to babysit Kate Steward.

12- Listen, we know that Twelve has a... difficult situation with U.N.I.T but I think he'd value Benton's presence despite that. I also think Bill especially would like Benton's sweet nature. And -hey- Benton would also be immune to Missy's shenanigans so conflicts would be resolved a good deal easier. Although Benton would definitely be a little alarmed by Clara, and try to help her and Twelve ease their co-dependency.

13- Given the amount of himbos in Thirteen's TARDIS teams, I think Benton would probably fit in quite well. He'd definitely bring an 'older cousin' vibe to a friendship with Yaz, and I imagine he'd also be there for Yaz when Thirteen is being a self-sabotaging jerk. He would also probably have a double-act with Dan. The lovely din-dins man meets the Dan with a plan and a pan. 🤣😂

[the-owl-tree]

Aside from the incredibly unjustified, poorly written forgiveness Feathertail (and Mistystar) grant her, what do you think about Leopardstar? In spite of everything, I’ve always liked that they gave us an extremely morally dubious she cat in power, who’s main motivation isn’t dependent on kits or tom cats. I feel like if the writers leaned a lot more on/ accepted that she’s awful most of the time, she could’ve been a much stronger character. And I do like how in spite of everything she agreed to do with Tigerstar, she was gunning hard for Sasha, and clearly liked her a lot. I just think there’s a lot of unexplored potential there

Big agree, I like Leopardstar as a villain. She's got a great presence in the first arc: she's intimidating and whenever she enters the scene, you KNOW somebody's going to get hurt. She goes for the throat and isn't afraid to kill, code be damned. She's ambitious and ruthless and I love how she's set up as this hungry cat who ends up being so blinded by her pursuit of power that she runs right into the claws of an even bigger predator. There's something so interesting about the way she plays right into what Tigerstar wants and yet every inch of power he gives her, he takes another for himself. Love it, fantastic set up and ending for the character in arc 1.

.....and then her involvement in the execution of Stonefur is never heavily brought up and scrutinized in the mainline books (then forgiven in the graphic novels) and she dies a very noble and brave leader. Bleh. Boring. She rubbed elbows with Tigerstar happily, why are we not playing her as a villain? Why is she just there? Her depiction post-TPB is boring and unsatisfactory, both she and Blackstar get away with waaaaaayy too much. Definitely find something interesting in her taking such an interest in Sasha, in particular her mentoring Hawkfrost and even considering him for deputy. It's that bit of wiggle room I like but I think requires more fan work than canon work for me to really wanna delve into.

side note, i LOVE the fanon idea that Leopardstar had something to do with Crookedstar's death. Poisoning him slowly, sneaking yew in his prey and weakening him slowly, all that.

[night-unfurls-its-splendour]

Susan Kay's 'Phantom' Read: Part IV (Nadir)

I always knew I'd have mixed feelings about this chunk of the book.

I feel like the issues with the rampant Orientalism and just generally how very wrong Kay is about so much of this have been sufficiently commented on by others, so I'm not going to spend a lot of real estate on that. I'm mainly going to focus on what bugs me personally.

Which is... well, several things

Where do I start?

I guess with "Nadir" himself. I don't know who "Nadir" is, but he's #NotMyDaroga. 'Why's that?' You may ask? Well because, in my opinion, he's only tangentially related to his source material. There's a lot here that checks the boxes: Daroga of Mazanderan, reluctant with many of his duties, simultaneously in awe of and terrified of Erik’s genius all of that's in there. Buuuuut

First of all, Kay took the most practical, likeable character in Leroux's work and made him whiny and annoying. All he does for the first five pages is complain. Within those five pages he also refers to himself as "regrettably squeamish". Nothing happens in the course of this episode to show him growing out of that, so how we get the, pragmatic badass who haunts the Paris opera house keeping Erik in check I have no idea (I also have no idea how this is gonna go later in the book).

Not only that but this in particular stuck out to me:

Some of the illusions were positively supernatural, and long before the show was at an end, I was quietly convinced that I stood in the presence of a genie, created from fire more than two thousand years before Adam. I noted uneasily that he was left handed. Every Moslem knows that the devil is left handed--it is for this reason that we always take care to spit to the left. My fingers felt instinctively for the amulets that hung at my neck, an outstretched hand made in silver and the dried eye of a sheep, killed at Mecca on the great day of sacrifice. Both were powerful protective agencies, and I had never felt more in need of their protection. I took care not to meet his gaze, for I already feared his evil eye.

This stands in sharp contrast to the Persian of Leroux:

If I had been a superstitious man or easily susceptible to weakness, I could not have failed to think that I had to do with a siren of some sort whose task was to trouble the voyager bold enough to travel on the waters of the lakeside house; but, thank God, I come from a country where the fantastic is so cherished that we know it to its depths, and in times past I myself have studied it extensively. Anyone who knows the magicians trade can excite the human imagination with a few simple tricks.

Of course you can make the argument that the Persian speaking here has known Erik for years now and is wise to his tricks, whereas Kay's "Nadir" is seeing them for the first time. But I'm sorry. I don't buy it. Leroux's Daroga, though amazed and awestruck by Erik's skills at illusion, never indicates that he has even been so fooled by them as to actually mistake him for more than what he is: a genius, certainly, but no genie.

Which leads me to wonder if Erik's magic tricks in this book aren't a little too fantastic. Granted Kay never leads us to believe that they really are supernatural, but she uses Erik's degree of genius as a bit of a shield to get away with not revealing the secrets to some truly fantastic tricks, while Leroux nearly always explains Erik's mechanisms (whether they would work to the level of efficacy Leroux describes its up for debate, but he at least does have explanations for them all.

I think it's hilarious and contemptible that Kay has, at numerous times in this book, dropped incredibly clunky and gratuitous clusters of architectural technical terms, just lists of them for no apparent reason except, I can only assume, to show off how much research she did on the subject; and then makes it so patently obvious that her cultural research is dubious, negligible, or entirely non-existent.

She goes to great lengths to paint Nadir as a devout Muslim, which is not something Leroux ever did, now that I think about it. I don't doubt that the Persian is, at least culturally, be he seems quite ambivalent to his religion, as a rule. It quite literally (as far as I can recall) never comes up. But Nadir is. Several times she has him exclaim "Allah" much in the way a Westerner would use "God" as an expletive. Not "Wallah" not even "By Allah" just "Allah".

"Allah, how I hated cats!"

And it's not only the things he says but the things he doesn't say that annoy me (though I'm a layman, and very much open to correction). Common Islamic phrases that could easily be used in any of the situations Nadir finds himself in are completely left by the wayside. There isn't even a single "Inshallah" in his entire narrative.

Another problem I have is that Kay's Daroga is a widower with a sick son. A very complex emotional relationship develops among Erik, Nadir, and Nadir's son, Reza, to whom Erik feels an affinity, as the boy is slowly crippled by a debilitating congenital disease. I have a problem with this because its all very... I call it the Michael Burnham effect. That is to say this is a very important and big emotional thing in The Persian's relationship with Erik and I don't believe that this wouldn't have come up in any of the Persian's narrative if it was actually the case. This is a liberty which Kay, in my opinion, shouldn't have taken. It affects Erik's entire relationship with The Persian in ways that strain my credulity. And it's part of the reason that Erik's character here is fully beginning to stray deeper into a musical-based version than the Leroux-version (which I have a problem with, as this book is ostensibly following Leroux's outline). She even goes to far as to have Erik acknowledge Nadir, with complete (if reluctant) sincerity, as his friend. And this pretty much confirms my suspicions of where "Erik and Daroga are friends" comes from. Whatever Erik and The Persian's odd relationship in the book is, I can't call it friendship with how frequently The Persian calls him "the monster".

Note don't get me wrong Erik and Daroga do definitely have a bizarre bond that is, I think, a kind of friendship. Daroga feels sympathy for Erik, and also responsibility for him. He is, in many, ways, more like an older brother than a friend. I could say so much on this subject but that's for another post.

But what I find really baffling and annoying about Erik and Nadir's "friendship" in this book is the drugs.

I can't express how repugnant I find this. I think it's an insult to both Erik and the Persian, the fact that Nadir HIMSELF GETS ERIK HOOKED ON OPIUM. WHY. And then she has the fucking nerve to lampshade with all the "Oh yes Opium's a terrible horrible deadly habit" Only to have Nadir turn right around and give Erik his fix. What the actual fuck.

But setting aside that Susan Kay actually said "I'm not just going to make Nadir annoying, I'm also going to make him an enabler!" Is the fact that... I just don't buy Erik doing drugs.

I know Erik is an artist, and artists throughout the ages have been associated with decadent habits like drugs and alcohol to soothe their tortured souls or broaden their minds to ever more fantastic plains blah blah blah.

But Erik is not an every day kind of character. Erik is notable in how uniquely he glories in his tribulations. Erik's music in particular is a manifestation of his pure emotions both good and bad, and I think for him to alter his moods with substances, to him, would sully the purity of his art, which he always characterizes as a spiritual, almost holy thing.

And here's another thing. Part of the reason Erik is doing opium in this book is, yes the horrors of his past, but also the terrible things he's doing in the present... which I do think Erik of Leroux did grow sick of what was demanded of him in Persia (he explicitly says he wanted to put it all behind him), but I don't think he probably felt... that bad about it? I dunno maybe that's just me.

Moving on.

I'll pause here to say that while I think Kay is a bit guilty of "de-fanging" Erik in this book, I genuinely do appreciate her emphasis on his affinity for the weak and broken, and his knack with animals.

So now I come to one of the things that made me look most askance at this section. Again, the conceit of this book (or at least what I was given to understand the conceit was) is that its filling in the blanks that Leroux left vague. And I don't really know if that was Susan Kay's intention, but it's certainly how the Phandom took it. Which is why it bugs me when there are things in here that either don't quite jive with canon or straight up contradict it.

Now in terms of the canon of Leroux's actual book, we're not sure exactly which Shah employed Erik. Leonard Wolf point out that Leroux mentions Erik "[fighting] the Emir" and posits that he is referring to the Afghani-Persian war of 1837. This would put Erik’s age in PotO at about 60, assuming he was very young at the time (in his teens). That would make Erik's patron Mohammad Shah Qajar.

However M. Grant Kellermeyer (and most others writing about this period in Erik’s life, including Susan Kay) favour the idea that Erik’s patron was Mohammed's son, Nasser al din Shah Qajar.

When Erik and the Persian talk about the "Rosy Hours of Mazanderan" they both make mention of the "Little Sultana", who is described by Leroux's narrator in the epilogue as "the Shah-in-Shah's favourite", whose boredom was the Shah's impetus for sending the Persian to find Erik in the first place, and whose delight in bloodthirsty spectacles of torture and execution allowed Erik's talents in those areas to develop into a finely honed art.

Now I would take "the Little Sultana" to mean one of the Shah's wives, concubines, daughters, or even a sister.

But Kay, for some inexplicable reason, chooses to interpret this capricious (and bloodthirsty) female figure--the Shah's favourite--as his... mother.

Now Nasser al din Shah's mother was Malek Jahan Khanom, who, true to Kay's portrayal was Regent of Persia for one month (September 5th - October 5th) in 1848. Also like Kay's "Khanum", Malek was a formidable and politically savvy woman, and definitely not an individual you would want to cross.

I can't dispute the idea of the Khanom being an incredibly powerful figure, and the type you would need and want to keep appeased (she is described by Kay as keeping her son firmly under her thumb), but I have to look at the fact that Kay read "The Little Sultana, the Shah's Favourite" and really said, "Right. That'll be his mom" and squint a little bit.

On top of this, the Khanum is characterized as having a sexual obsession with Erik, very similar to the way Duchess Josiana is aroused by Gwynplaine's facial deformity in Victor Hugo's The Man Who Laughs, and is first irritated, then enraged by Erik's constant indifference. This fact is not lost on the Shah.

I just don't know ya'll. It's...I just... I don't know about this.

M. Grant Kellermeyer speculates that the "Little Sultana" Leroux refers to, to be the seventh wife of Nasser al din Shah, Jeyran, whom he first took as a mistress in around 1850 following a chance encounter during which he apparently fell in love with her on sight. One story of their meeting even asserts that she was one of his mother's servants.

If that is the case it would be one reason why Malek and Jeyran stood locked for years in stark political opposition to each other.

Jeyran was herself formidable and enjoyed many masculine pursuits including hunting and shooting, and not even the Khanom was able to dissuade Nasser from conferring her the title of Forough ol-Saltaneh, or from naming her son the crown prince (though this decision was stuck in political hell for years because of Jeyran's lack of influential blood-lines).

She was his favourite wife until her early death in 1860 at the age of 29.

It's my opinion that Leroux's "Little Sultana" is a composite of Jeyran and her successor as the Shah's favourite, Anis al-Dalweh, who was even more formidable and politically savvy than Jeyran. She was the only one of the Shah's wives known to share his meals and the only one he suffered to publicly criticize him, and she took over Malek's duties as the head of the harem upon her death in 1873.

Masterpost

[enchantedliving]

Green Cloth, Inlaid with Wild Flowers: Magical Summer Wear

Enchanting clothing for the modern witch or fairy has gotten far easier with the internet—especially with trends like “whimsigoth” and “witchcore” on TikTok and the Daily Faeshion Facebook group giving you all kinds of ideas. But it’s still hard to know what to wear in the summer. For example, many of the suggestions involve velvet, dark colors, and tons of layers, which are all pretty much the last things you want to wear if it’s sweltering outside!

In the 1810 ballad collection Remains of Nithsdale and Galloway Song, editor R.H. Cromek wrote that Scottish fairies tended to wear “mantles of green cloth, inlaid with wild flowers” and “green pantaloons, buttoned with bobs of silk, and sandals of silver.” Though the ballads included in this collection are of dubious origin (many were likely the work of poet Allan Cunningham), Cromek’s description of fairy clothing is pretty spot on, traditionally speaking, and we think it makes great inspiration for magical summer wear.

To start, embracing the color green in summer works well no matter if you lean more toward the witch or fairy side of dress. Summer is the time of vibrant green grass and tree leaves—it is the color of life thriving everywhere you look. Folklore frequently associates the color with the fae, but you can make it witchwear too if you go for the hedge witch aesthetic: Lightweight fabrics in the color and leafy, mossy accessories are good places to start.

If you’re thinking you still want to embrace some layers, we recommend white lace. White is also a common fairy color, and it will keep you much cooler than layers of other colors would.

If your witchy heart says No, thank you—all black, all the time, we get it—we’re frequently in the same boat ourselves. Lightweight black cotton and black lace are great summer staples. Go for short styles or tea-length rather than floor-sweeping hems to survive the heat, and create texture and visual interest with jewelry instead of adding more fabric or layers.

Next, while it may be a little bit difficult to create garments “inlaid with wild flowers,” you can embrace wearing flowers in other ways. Fantastical prints, floral jewelry, and even a flower crown can evoke the magic of both spring and summer. We tend to like the brighter, bolder colored flowers in the summer—we’re talking sunflowers, hibiscus, marigolds, phlox, coneflowers, and zinnias. Last, we highly recommend those silver sandals Cromek talks about. Sandals are made for the summer, and having some with a bit of shimmer, shine, and glitter can take your outfit from mundane to magical instantly. If silver’s not your thing, pretty much any metallic color can work. We’re especially fond of the ones that wrap a bit up your leg—they always seem a little extra ethereal!

During the time of year that most people want to dress lightly for comfort, you don’t have to sacrifice your magical style. What do you have in your closet already that might add that little spark to your summer wear? Be creative—you never know what you might come up with when you keep your most enchanted self at the forefront of your mind.

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[shipofthesis]

Reflecting on Fallen London content in light of the Disgraced Former Founder

I’ve been looking into Fallen London’s Disgraced Former Founder (AK) because I’d rather just know then assume. Now, everything I’ve read has tracked with what I was assuming from what I already knew and have seen of him but. God, he’s insufferable. I’ve read through his professed list of influences, and my realizations on that front have been: 

lamentably I have his written voice saved into my brain cuz I clocked it almost immediately (I tiredly clicked the link without registering who/what it was). This is wild to me cuz I have only really “read” him through whatever FL content he’s responsible for. Which makes me wonder how much is by his hand.

some of his commentary is... illuminating about the sort of person he is. Does he always sound this condescending? (Yes.) While a handful of his comments had me rolling my eyes or sighing this bit made me need to pause altogether. 

What an ass. Anyway, my final and perhaps most important realization! I am convinced while his merit as a writer is up for debate he is very well read and his writing owes everything to that. It sounds like some of FL is less genius ideas he had and more him grabbing things he liked from other, more established authors. (Something his own narrative along this list supports, though I’m sure he thinks more highly of himself than I do.)

Why does any of this matter? Why am I subjecting myself to learning about this frustrating scumbag? Because I am reexamining (earlier) FL given this context, understanding that often fiction is a reflection of its creators. 

I am thinking about how much of early FL content is the player character manipulating and exploiting people. I am thinking about the player character’s overarching narrative of starting from the bottom with nothing but your wits and grit, and winding up on top. I am thinking about how difficult it is to play a morally upstanding character if you take every storyline as canon rather than handwaving some here, others there. And I am thinking of all this while familiar with how people like AK think and create.

It sounds like AK regularly manipulated people while at Failbetter games. (Here’s a piece by the current CEO about AK’s behavior.) It’s safe to assume manipulation, intimidation, extortion, bribery, and other similar tactics are part of his everyday toolkit. Things the player character has options to do quite often, usually for greater profit. Even if you don’t play your character as morally dubious, there is something to be said of how various Making Your Name stories play out. How romancing characters is often a means to an end, how the university line is much more punishing if you uphold what is true and just. And likely many others I cannot remember in this moment! But wait, FL is a dark comedy and a horror show, it is also an rpg. This sort of thing is to be expected, right? It’s a dystopia where deathlessness has changed what violence means and we are all subject to the whims of monomaniacal space bats! What’s my point?? 

My point, what I am pondering, is how much of the player characters choices and actions were not written as something fantastical. How much of the sardonic narrator voice isn’t an affectation to amuse us, and how much the player characters sometimes ruthless, heartless, and even entitled actions and desires are not simply there to offer different Quirks. People like AK tend to think everyone thinks like them. The player character being written to use all tools available in service of their own needs, pleasure, ego, and rising power might not be entirely a hypothetical fantasy to AK. Well, maybe it’s a fantasy in that approaching the world of the Neath like this is not only accepted and justified, but the way to power. Power which you deserve because of your sharp wits and willingness to do what it takes, morality and ethics be damned.