#a connection to me or imply that we have anything to do with each other!!! you don't deserve to even breathe on the same planet as me!!!

[earthtooz]

x : LUST FOR LIFE *+ﾟ

in which: sunday discovers a new emotion when he's under you.

warnings: 1.5k words, sunday is B(h)ORNY and doesn't know how to deal with it, he wants reader so bad, lowkey implied switch!sunday, gn!reader being sunday's freak awakening, NO SMUT BUT UNDER 16 DNI, not edited

a/n: five likes and i'll write nsfw for sunday

What good is a leader who can’t empathise with the lives of the people he was supposed to be leading?

This thought has plagued Sunday ever since he exiled himself from Penacony, since he joined the Astral Express in a journey of self-discovery and reflection, embracing the Nameless lifestyle so he can broaden the horizons that Penacony had restricted. There, he was so detached from the reality of the people he was trying to help, so trapped in a whirlwind of his own ideals to experience humanity, too buried in official duties to rejoice in the many wonders of the universe, the simple pleasures and the grandiose ones.

Since boarding, the former head of the Oak Family has experienced humiliation, desperation, and many close calls with death. It seems he underestimated how easily trouble found the Trailblazers, and the diary he carries with him has been updated with multiple entries, filled with exasperated recounts that ended with him being grateful that he is still well and unscathed.

Sunday has also experienced laughter, connection, and the bond of humankind- something he did not have before. When he controlled the Oak Family, had everyone under or at his fingertips, the only person he could depend on was himself. When Robin left to travel the cosmos, what was he to do than learn the bitter truth of independence and self-sufficiency? 

Yet, he sits on the couches of the Astral Express and there is bound to be another by him, trying to converse with him like an old friend. He is mentioned in the conversations like an individual who they keep around because they want to, not because he is crafty, not because of what he can offer. No, he can’t offer anything right now, and the crew still wants him to stay.

He learns more about humanity with each passing day.

However, perhaps one of the more puzzling feelings Sunday has had to confront was… infatuation. 

It’s a tricky feeling. It sends his heart into overdrive and his limbs to become jelly, and at the epicentre of this hurricane of uncharted territory, is you. 

“Sunday?” Your voice comes through muffled from the other side of the door. He almost jumps off his mattress at the sound. 

“Door is open,” he responds as calmly as possible, heart thrumming alive at the sound of your voice, beating in time with the rapid succession of your knocks. 

The door slides open slowly to reveal you on the other side. “Pom Pom just wanted to let everyone know that we will be jumping soon.” 

“I see, thank you for letting me know.”

“No problem,” your gaze then flickers to the angels that flock around him and he watches as your eyes gleam with fascination.

Then, without any hesitation or reluctance, you enter his room and approach him, the door sliding closed without your weight to hold it open. You stop before him without a bow, without a formal greeting of ‘Mr. Sunday’- no, you stop before him like an equal, which you most certainly are. In fact, he would even think of himself below you, but Sunday needs to unlearn this assumption of hierarchy, needs to not let it define the relationships he forms, even if he looks up to you and finds you reverent. 

“Hey, I’ve never seen these little guys before!” You exclaim, sticking out a hand to act like a perch for the angel-like summons. One of them flits up to you and stays on your outstretched finger. “Well, not this close, at least.”

It keens at your praise. Like owner like summon, Sunday supposes.

“I don’t tend to bring them out. They are for combat purposes,” he explains. 

Your eyes widen slightly. “Are you trying to pick a fight with me right now?” 

“What? No! That’s not it-”

“-I’m kidding, Sunday,” you snicker. “We’re friends, I wouldn’t want to fight you.”

“Right,” he exhales, “I wouldn’t want to fight you either.”

“Besides, we already did once.”

He freezes at the memory, remembers when he got hit with the exact train he is currently boarding. 

You, however, are unphased by the recollection, and even continue to rub salt in the wound. “I remember fighting against these little summons too, your owner was a real meanie, do you guys know that?” 

They flock around you, spinning and fluttering like little fireflies.  Instinctively, Sunday covers his flustered expression with his wings, and he doesn’t budge, even when he hears your laugh, the sound almost enough for him to melt into a puddle by your feet.

“Hey, hey, I was kidding, sorry if I took the joke too far.” 

He uncovers himself with an embarrassed sigh, not meeting your eyes. “It’s okay, I think the memory is just… humiliating, more than anything.”

“There are no more hard feelings. Everyone has accepted you on board and none of us think of you to be the same person you were when we first met, I promise.”

Your words are completely earnest, Sunday knows it, can feel it in the way you tell him so unabashedly. So who is he to deny it?

“Thank you,” he says, finally looking up at you, “it means a lot to hear that.” 

“I’ll say it as much as you need. Well, I’ll get out of your hair now, just prepare for the jump-”

Your sentence is interrupted by a shriek when you lose your footing, and Sunday feels it too, the force so strong that even he, while sitting, feels as if is being stretched and pulled into a miniscule hole. What he also feels is your body colliding on top of his, and his hands come to your waist to catch you in an attempt to prevent you from slipping, but it’s not enough and he’s falling with you onto the expanse of his made bed.

The Express is warping to some expanse of the universe, and his stomach drops at the sensation, spreading to the ends of his nerves before disappearing, just replaced by the extremely odd feeling of being pulled through the stars. He just hopes you’re comfortable, standing up whilst warping is tough, he heard the stories of when Stelle first tried to do it and how she fell flat on her face. 

When the feeling of normality returns and Sunday doesn’t feel like he has been stretched out, he opens his eyes and tries to take in the sight before him.

You. Your face. Centimetres away from his.

He’s always thought you were pretty, but seeing you this close… perhaps just pretty is an understatement. His gaze unwillingly flicks to your lips and he wished he hadn’t because suddenly the urge to sit up and lick into your mouth is raging; a fire that can’t be contained. 

Sunday wants you to push him down by the shoulders, with no gentleness or mercy, and just… devour him whole. His hands want to find you by the hips and pull you into him more than humanly possible, he wants you to indent yourself onto him so he can remember your taste forever, so that, in a way, you couldn’t ever leave him. 

Alternatively, he would happily flip around and pin you against the mattress. He would pry you open, explore the cavern of your mouth with his tongue and suck your sacred essence out of you so that it can stay and settle in his bones instead, replacing where marrow should be. He wants to lay you vulnerable so his hands can explore places only you want him to touch, wants to take you so that you stay forever, wants to feel your tongue against his, wants to hold your face and feel how you react when he takes his time cherishing you, revering you. 

This feeling is too much, these thoughts are overpowering, yet nothing has ever been more clear. Sunday wants you, lusts for you, even, and he’s never felt so intensely for someone before. 

How would the symphonies sound when they learn of the atrocities he wants to perform? 

Temptation holds him close and infects him with a desire so strong, he’s practically frozen in place as you recover from the shock, holding yourself up with your arms that were on either side of his head. 

“Ow, I’m sorry!” You immediately exclaim, before realising exactly what position you are in, your chests are pressed together, and you’re mortified to think about how close you were before you picked yourself off him, and- his… his hips… are pressed against yours- okay, you needed to leave as soon as possible.

You scramble off him like he had burnt you, frantically shouting apologies whilst doing so, the words clumsy and rushed, but neither of you can deny how you miss the warmth that was suddenly ripped away. 

(If he wanted to, you could have stayed in that position with him.)

Then, before you could get anymore thoughts, you turn and practically bolt out of his room without another word, leaving a hot and bothered Sunday behind.

© EARTHTOOZ 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site.

[emmersonisdesperate]

Ranting about Romantic Prongsfoot or Prongsfoot in general??

I saw someone post saying romantic Prongsfoot is basically incest. I sighed then scrolled. Was that so hard? Seeing an opinion you don't like, and then just moving on? Because that's exactly what romantic Prongsfoot is, an opinion.

The fandom analyzed canon Sirius's behavior, actions and dialogue when it involved James and we all pretty much came to the conclusion that Sirius's entire world revolved around James. Like a dog, a man's best friend, he was incredibly loyal and devoted to James.

Then, some of us decided to take a step further and made them soulmates in a platonic sense. Not best friends, brothers, but soulmates. Like we're talking Viktor and Jayce level.

That's like the one thing wolfstar, Jegulus and Prongsfoot shippers have in common; James and Sirius are soulmates. Or even something deeper if you want to take a step further. All the famous fanfics have this, where James and Sirius have Something between them, even if it's a Jegulus or wolfstar fanfic.

That's why some of you feel like romantic Prongsfoot is incest. Because most fanfics have written them as brothers, you're reading two characters that are portrayed as brothers so often, you start to perceive them as brothers. You think they're brothers.

And you're allowed to! No like, you're very allowed to. Can I emphasize again, how often fanfics portray them as brothers? Like genuinely, no one's stopping you.

But you have to understand, that's your perspective, your view, your opinion. It's not a fact because they are not brothers. They are close as brothers yes, but not actually.

They don't have a ragbros situation. Sirius wasn't adopted into the Potter family at 8 or something and then raised by them after. That's probably incest. I have an adopted brother, I do know.

He was adopted into the family at 16. You're considered an adult at 18 in the wizarding world. He had inheritance from his uncle Alphard. It's said he moved out on his own later.

All this implies Sirius didn't live that long with Potters. I'm not saying Sirius didn't develop a familial bond with the Potters because he was too old during the adoption. He probably did see Euphimia and Monty as his parents at some point.

But he was James' best friend so much longer than their son. A couple of limited years with the Potters is nothing compared to the 5+ years he spent being James' best friend. I say limited because he keeps being that best friend even after he moved out.

That bond, if you want, can be solidified into something sibling-level after the adoption. You can have your headcanons, fantasies and fanfics where Sirius runs away to a healthier, welcoming family!!

But I don't think their bond could just change like that?? Again, around 5+ years of having this special connection, where they are used to living together, sharing the same space, being glued to each other, why would being adopted into the family change anything between them?? Besides like, getting yelled at together by James' parents, their routine would have stayed the same.

And you're telling me I CANT romanticize that?? Because YOU see them as brothers??? When they're so much deeper than that???

Would it not have solidified it more?? Would it not have gotten deeper?? Especially when they have privacy now.

Like you can't tell me they weren't having conversations where they bared their souls to each other, diving in and revealing the ugliest parts to each other, deepest fears, insecurities, quite literally breaking themselves down into pieces because it's just them there and then putting those pieces back together, glued with loving words and gentle touches because it's them. Or fucking. Up to y'all idk.

I'm going off the rails. The point is, you can dislike, like, hate, love ships for whatever reasons, I genuinely don't care. But if you're hating on a ship because you FEEL like it's incest, please just keep it to yourself. No one wants to be told their favorite ship reminds you of incest.

Again, tagging filters exist, I don't consider prongsfoot a rarepair but it's true people rarely write them. You literally cannot accidentally stumble upon prongsfoot fanfics and literally no one's forcing you to read them??

Prongsfoot is like the least problematic thing in this fandom?? And its barely problematic!! People ship ACTUAL incest!! Like starcest!! (...good for them but also like...)

calling prongsfoot incest when actual incest ships exists is insane.

[monstersflashlight]

Commission for @itsafullmoon

A/N: Thank you so much for commissioning! This turned a lot more funny than expected, the werewolf is basically a himbo and the events are very fast-paced. Hope you enjoy!

Request: I’d like to request a NSFW-longer story Werewolf x fem!human, werewolf saves her from what could’ve been a fatal fall/accident in the woods or….was that his secret plan all along😏 (stalking, future mate?) I love your writing and leave the rest up to your creative mind🫶

The spiral to insanity happens in a hole

Werewolf x fem!reader || induced heat, knotting, semi-public sex (cave), implied stalking

“Help! Help me!” You cried out.

A head appeared at the top of the hole you fell into. “Hello there, stranger. Seems like you are in a hole,” his words made you want to hit him with a rock. “Do you need some help?” Was this dude for real?

Not wanting to be mean to the stranger that could have your way out of the hole you sighed and told him: “Yes, please.”

He reached inside the hole with his long arm, and you reached up trying to grab it. Before you know what happened there was a big crash and the stranger was next to you in the hole/cave. “How did you fall, too?!” You accused. Now both of you were stuck in the hole. Fuck.

“Oops,” he giggled. He actually giggled. Who was this dude? You glared at him and he rose his hands in a calming motion. “No worries, I work as a keeper in the reserve and called my college when I heard you calling. They’ll come to get us soon enough.” That did calm you, and you sat down on a big rock and stared at him.

He was pretty in a rough way, like a lumberjack. He was big as a wardrobe and looked like he could break a tree if he wanted to. You were kinda okay with that, he looked good. In other circumstances, you would have hit on him. Probably. And well, being completely truthful, you would probably hit on him here, too. Your body was tingling just by looking at him, a strange sensation boiling inside of you.

He didn’t say anything else, and you didn’t either. You sat in silence as he paced up and down the little cave and you thought about all the dirty things you would let him do to you. At some point he stopped and looked at you. “We could do something to pass the time.” That made sense, but at that moment you wanted to do anything but to talk. He was handsome, and maybe you wanted to fuck him a little (understatement of the century), but definitely not in a hole in the forest.

“What do you suggest?”

And then he went and deadpanned: “We could make out.” You looked at him trying to decipher if he was being serious.

You were so surprised it took you a couple of seconds to respond. “Are you fucking insane? I don’t know you!” You didn’t want to say no, but it was fucking insane that he was asking you that, you didn’t know each other’s name.

This dude was completely crazy, 100%. You didn’t know how you found yourself in that situation, but there you were. In a hole, in the forest, with a crazy dude who wanted to make out. And what was more surprising: you were okay with that. The idea of making out with him wasn’t as bad as someone could think. You kinda wanted to say yes, but you also knew that was a bad idea.

“Well, we could know each other.” He proceeded to tell you everything that came to mind about himself as you looked at him astonished. Who the fuck was this guy and why did you find him so adorable? He kept talking and talking and his blush became more and more prominent as you stared. “I’m sorry, I’m gonna shut up now.” He went from weird to endearing very fast, your heart beating erratically inside your chest. You were charmed by that big fool.

“You are kind of adorable,” you blurted out. You covered your mouth instantly, you didn’t want that to escape.

“You think so?” He asked back, flushing harder. Cute.

“Yeah. I feel this…. This connection to you. I don’t understand why, I should be scared or anxious about it, but looking at you brings me some kind of calmness. It’s like I already knew you.” And it was true, you felt some kind of deep connection to him, like something inside of you could recognize something inside of him.

“You do?” He sounded so hopeful and excited that you wanted to hug him and kiss the tip of his nose. What was wrong with you? “You a… Well, you see… Youaremymate.”

“I’m what?”

“You are my mate,” he told you, slower this time. At your confused look, he continued, “let me explain. So…. I’m a werewolf.” At your not-impressed look he changed before you. His face contorted and his bones cracked and before you knew it he was a fucking werewolf.

For both of your surprises, you didn’t scream, you didn’t panic, you just stared at him until your brain came back into action. “What the fuck!? How are you even real?!” You must have hit your head when you fell down. That’s it. That’s why the dude in front of you was a werewolf and why he was saying you were his mate. Yep, that’s the reason. He pinched your arm and you slapped his hand. “Why did you do that?”

“You aren’t dreaming. Or hit your head. I’m a werewolf and I’m real.” You stared at him for what felt like an eternity but was probably just a couple seconds. For some reason, you believed him and that made you question your sanity even more.

“You know what? I believe you. My life couldn’t get any messier, but apparently it can.” You laughed at that, hysterically. He looked at you with concern all over his face. “I’m okay, I’m okay…” You repeated as you wiped tears off the corner of your eyes. “I’m just having a bit of a breakdown.” He hugged you then, pulling you against his furry chest and embracing you tightly.

Weirdly enough, it made you calm down. Your breathing evening out to match his and your body relaxing in his arms. “So… do you want to make out?” He asked again, making you chuckle and looking up at him incredulously.

“Are you serious right now?” His kicked puppy face was answer enough. “Of course you are. I- No I don’t- You know what? I do. Let’s make out. If my life is going to get this crazy, I can surrender to it and also be insane.” You felt completely out of control, nothing made sense anymore and why not... Kissing a werewolf didn’t sound like the worst idea in that moment. He was handsome as fuck and he looked even better with all the furriness he had going on. You wanted to kiss him when he was human so… why not? Insanity was as good option as any other.

“You are not insa-” He didn’t finish that thought before you launched for his mouth and started kissing his wolfy face. The fangs against your lips made some deep part of you tingle. The danger and the anticipation making everything so intense you could feel your pussy getting wet. He sniffed the air and groaned against your mouth. “I can smell your desire,” he growled against your ear, breaking the kiss. You groaned in response, feeling hot all over.

You felt like your body was burning from the inside out, like your blood was made of lava and you were about to burn down completely. Your pussy felt so wet and so ready you could feel your heartbeat in your clit. “What is happening to me?” You asked, fanning yourself.

He looked down at you, guilty as fuck. “You started the mating process. You kissed me and now your body is going to react strongly to everything we do. You are going to get really horny, really soon.” You shook was rapidly replaced by a new wave of heat. Fuck. You groaned and kissed him again.

He tore a hole in your pants and ripped your panties, exposing your pussy to his hungry eyes. He stared at your center and slowly circled your clit as he pushed two fingers inside of you. You cried out and came around his fingers.

“More. More. Give me your cock.” You were frantically pulling at his pants, trying to free what felt like a dick bigger than anything you’d experienced before. He got himself free and you gasped when you saw. It was different from humans, larger in every way, but also had a different shape. It was fat in the middle instead of the tip, and there was a big bulge at the base that looked incredibly to grind against. “Now. Now. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me…” you chanted. Your brain couldn’t understand anything else but the heat burning inside of you and his dick being the solution.

“Are you su-?” He tried to ask, but you weren’t having any of that. You needed to be fucked and you needed it NOW.

“If you don’t fuck me right now I swear to God I’-” He grabbed your hips and lowered you to his dick in a second, his dick fitting inside of you in one long thrust that had you throwing your head back and crying out in ecstasy. It was perfect. His dick was perfect.

He didn’t give you time to adjust to his girth, he started a punishing pace, his hands on your hips as he moved you up and down. You were grateful for that, your legs turned into jelly and you doubted you could do anything to help him right now. His movements were perfect but not enough. You rubbed your clit frantically as he told you how pretty you were, how good you looked and how lucky he was having a mate as beautiful as you.

You came apart in his lap. Once, twice, three times… He wasn’t stopping. He had super stamina or something like that because his dick was hitting all your perfect spots and you were seeing stars as he just kept going. Your pussy felt used, but you wanted more, so much more…

You needed, you needed something… Something. And then you felt it. “What is that?” You asked between groans, your body limp because of the pleasure.

He grunted and moved your hips up and down faster, making you see stars. “My knot. Do you- Do you want that?” You nodded, not knowing what you were getting yourself into, but too lost in the pleasure he was giving you.

It took some work, but he moved your hips against it until it was coated in your juices and it could slip inside. You blacked out for a couple seconds when you felt the extreme fullness inside of you. Your pussy was stretched to the max and it felt better than anything you’ve ever experienced. You felt like you reached nirvana. And then you could feel him coming inside of you, so much, so hot and fast… You were being stuffed, and it felt... marvelous.

You came a couple more time grinding his knot against your G-spot and when you couldn’t take it anymore, you deflated against his front. His knot was still firm inside of you, spurting cum every once in a while. You didn’t care anymore, you could take a nap right there.

“Can I confess something to you?” He broke the silence, his hands caressing your back in a hypnotizing motion.

“Well, it’s not like we can move, can we?” You asked, his knot firmly pressed inside of you. You rolled your hips experimentally and groaned at the sensation. So good.

“I hid the hole so you’d fall into it,” he confessed, hiding his wolfy face in your neck, licking that spot behind your ear that made you shiver. The combination of his knot pressing onto your G-spot and the licking was making your brain foggy with pleasure.

But then his words registered, “Dude, what?!”

[hard-core-super-star]

losing focus [W.Maximoff + N.Romanoff]

pairing: dom!wanda maximoff x sub!reader x dom!natasha romanoff

summary: as unexpected as it is, you become a permanent part of wanda and natasha's relationship.

warnings: SMUT, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT -> porn with very little plot but many feelings; mommy + daddy kink; implied dom/sub dynamics; mentions of petplay; fingering [R receiving]; cunnilingus [R receiving]; overstimulation; nipple play; so many petnames; wanda and nat being competitive; badly proofread

wordcount: 3.7k

a/n: hi again! so, i was originally supposed to post a bishova fic today buuuut i got too attached and wrote a part two of "push me on the counter, call me princess" because i could. i hope you enjoy <3

* * * * * * *

It's difficult to define what your relationship with the witch and her grumpy assassin girlfriend has turned into. 

You know you're not really a part of their relationship, at least not officially, but you're not a mere observer either. Your main connection is with Wanda, which Natasha doesn't seem to mind, but the three of you are well aware of the way you simply started...joining them...all the time.

It started with small things. With Wanda inviting you to sit on her lap during movie nights. With Natasha begrudgingly letting the witch tie you down on their shared bed. With both of them holding you close at night, each of them murmuring some excuse about why they needed the physical contact.

You didn't mind. What kind of fool would mind being sandwiched between two of the most fearsome and beautiful Avengers?

But it very quickly stopped being enough for you.

You didn't want to be greedy, you knew your connection with Wanda wasn't right in the first place. You should have never allowed her to enchant you to the point of weaseling your way into her relationship.

And yet here you are.

Tucked under Wanda's arm while you watch her favorite sitcom.

A part you of you wants to be unhappy. To act like you don't want to be part of this.

But the truth is you do.

You really like this.

"You're thinking too much, detka." There's no judgement in the witch's tone, just the soothing sound of her accent. "Do you want to talk about it?"

You shake your head, instantly feeling overwhelmed from the mere thought of sharing your worries with her. You're not even sure why you're worried. Why there's a part of you that can't seem to settle, despite how warm and comfortable the older woman's embrace is.

"I'm fine," you mumble.

Wanda hates it when you mumble, but you can't help it. You also can't help the way you turn toward her, your face finding refuge in the crook of her neck.

She allows it for it now. Clearly, she doesn't need to read your thoughts to know how much you're struggling with them.

You want to feel embarrassed about it, but it's hard to feel anything except her palm pressing into your side. Her fingers slip under the hem of your (well...Natasha's) shirt and she draws small circles against your skin.

The two of you stay like that for a while. Wanda watches her show and you catch glimpses of it whenever you gather the courage to peak your head up and out of the comfort of her neck.

You've practically settled into the comfort when the door opens and your bubble of safety is popped.

Your shoulders tense until you hear the telltale sound of Natasha's sigh. There's an edge of annoyance to the sound that you've grown to associate with her. "Wanda, if you wanted a pet, we could have just gotten a cat."

Her words make the witch chuckle despite herself. She knew, no matter how cold the other woman acted, she was simply pretending. It was always easier for her to put her walls back up when she was unsure of something instead of going with the flow.

"Hello to you too, sweetheart."

Wanda gives your side a small pinch, not to hurt you but to encourage you to say hi. You don't really want to, you're still not sure how to act around the older woman, but you do it anyway.

"Hi, Nat."

The redhead rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips quirk up into the smallest of smiles. "Hello, kitten. Have you been behaving?"

It's a small thing but it's a start. A reminder that she doesn't actually dislike you and she's not mad at the way things have turned out.

That maybe...she's softer than she looks.

"Yes, Daddy," you reply, a soft blush coating your cheeks as you address Natasha by her title. "I listened to Mommy all day."

The small smile on the redhead's face grows at your words. As tough as she looks, she completely adores the way you instantly submit to her without any objections. The way it all seems so natural. So weirdly right.

"Without pouting?" She asks, raising her eyebrow in the way that makes you tremble.

The idea of lying crosses your mind but you know better than that. Plus, there's no use in lying when you're sitting next to a literal mind reader.

"Well...no. But it wasn't my fault!"

Natasha doesn't seem convinced, although she does seem amused. Her eyes drift to Wanda, who can't seem to wipe the proud grin off her face. "It wasn't?"

"It wasn't," the witch replies. "She just got pouty because I told her we had to wait for you before we could play."

"Oh, I see. So, you didn't get pouty, you got needy, is that right?"

You nod, her tone making your head swim in an all too familiar way.

Natasha crawls into bed and shifts herself until she's laying down between your spread legs. The flimsy material of your shorts does little to keep your arousal hidden away from the older woman.

"Come here, detka," Wanda murmurs as her hands grip your hips.

She effortlessly lifts you up until you're sitting between her legs, your back pressed firmly against her front. It's a subtle show of dominance, a reminder that despite Natasha's stubbornness, Wanda's the one in charge. The one you actually belong to.

But there's also a soft side to it. A reminder that she's right there in case things get too overwhelming. That you can back out at any moment and they won't be upset.

It's far too late for that, though. Far too late to act like you don't want them both. Like you don't need them.

Natasha's hands bring you back. Her fingers trail a teasing path up your thighs until they reach the waistband of your shorts.

There's a wordless question in her gaze. One that makes your heart skip a beat.

You nod in response and she wastes no time in getting rid of the garments in the way.

Her eyes take in every inch of exposed skin, the softness in her smile turning slightly predatory. It's a sight you're growing very used to seeing.

"Look at you," she coos, although her tone is far more teasing than sweet. "You're already so wet for us. Mommy's left you needy for too long, huh?"

"I'm not the bad guy here," Wanda says with a chuckle. "It wasn't my idea."

Natasha rolls her eyes but your attention is captured by the witch and her warm hands that slip under your shirt. Her fingers make their way up your torso, her nails dragging against your skin and making your back arch in response.

"Don't listen to her, detka, she's just jealous."

You nod along to the redhead's words even though they don't fully register in your mind. All you know is you're stuck between them as they engage in yet another unnecessary competition.

Wanda notices first, far too used to the subtle cues that give away your growing dependence on them. Your growing need to let go and let them take over.

"There you go, sweetheart, doesn't that feel nice?" Her voice is soft and sweet in your ear, a constant lullaby that allows you to sink deeper against her.

"Mhmm," you hum, your hands reaching out for Natasha as her lips join her fingers in exploring your skin.

The witch is quick to stop you before you get too carried away. Her hands wrap around your wrists and she holds them down, allowing her girlfriend to keep teasing you. "Just relax, baby, Nat knows what to do."

You don't doubt her words for a second, but you also don't doubt the teasing mood the redhead seems to be in. You would complain if you weren't so busy trying to keep yourself still.

It's easier said than done, though, and Natasha quickly tightens her grip on your thighs, keeping you exposed to her gaze and completely still. "Come on, detka, don't you want to show Mommy what a good girl you are?"

Her words make your hips buck, but instead of teasing you for it, she sives right into the main event. Her breath ghosts the most sensitive part of your body before her lips wrap around your swollen clit.

The sensation borders on far too much far too quickly and yet the pleasure seems to overwhelm your body before the sensitivity hits you. Your head falls back against Wanda's shoulder as your lips part in a long moan.

The witch takes advantage of your change in position and attaches her lips to your neck, switching back and forth between gentle kisses and harsh nips. "There you go, isn't that better? Don't think, darling, just let us take over."

The answer is more than obvious considering how far gone your mind is. All you can fully focus on is the soft fuziness feeling your head and the pleasure you're drowing under.

"Daddy," you whine under your breath, your hips shifting against Natasha's mouth.

The redhead simply hums, lapping at your arousal like a woman starved. She doesn't want to admit it but hearing you call her that does things to her that she can't explain. There's a certain type of satisfaction she's never felt with Wanda, even when her girlfriend is in a more submissive mood.

It's what draws her closer to you despite how hard she tries to pretend like she doesn't care. And maybe she doesn't care, but the way she commits herself to making you fall apart, completely overwhelmed by pleasure tells another story.

Wanda's quick to notice how fuzzy you are by now, how perfectly pliable you've become with just a few soft strokes of Natasha's tongue against your throbbing clit. She lets go of your hands, trusting you not to move, before her fingers slip under your shirt again, trailing up until she reaches your breasts.

"Such a good girl for us," she murmurs, as her fingers find your nipples. "Such a pretty little pet."

You're stuck between wanting to arch your back and buck your hips. Ultimately, you end up doing nothing which is exactly what they like. It allows them to please you and use you in whatever way they want.

It's a little surprising how devoted Natasha seems to be to just pleasuring you, but your head is far too fuzy for you to try and think about that. The implications themselves aren't lost on you, though, and they only add to the growing coil in settled in your stomach.

"Don't tell me you're getting ahead of yourself, kotenok." The redhead leans back just enough to look up at you, dark green eyes drinking in every inch of your face. "Good girls don't act like greedy sluts, do they?"

"No, Daddy."

Your instant response makes her smirk and she rewards you by sinking two fingers into your wet cunt.

A gasp slips out of your parted lips and Wanda takes the opportunity to pinch and pull at your hardened nipples. The stinging pain mixes perfectly with the sudden pleasure and you can't stop your body from trembling under their expert hands.

"Please," you whine. "Can I cum?"

"Already?" Wanda chuckles. "Did I leave you too needy earlier?"

"Mhmm, so needy." You don't fully know what you're saying, you just know you can't hold back anymore and the last thing you need is to earn yourself a punishment. "Please."

Your words only seem to spur Natasha on and, instead of giving you mercy like you're asking for, she starts thrusting her fingers in and out of you, groaning as she feels your walls clenching around the digits. "Fuck, such a messy pet."

"I think she's about to get even messier."

The way they talk about you like you're not even there only adds fuel to your desperate arousal. There's nothing more for you to do besides wait for Natasha to decide to give you the mercy you're begging for.

You half-expect her to not give it to you just so she can punish you for it later. It certainly wouldn't be the first time, and you're certain she's only gotten more obssesed with the idea since then.

"Yeah? Is Mommy right, detka? Are you going to make a mess for us?" You know Natsha's teasing you and yet you don't feel the usual flush of humilation. Instead, the warmth that floods you is exactly the same one you feel when Wanda uses her sweetly condescing tone on you.

They're such different tones, such different people, and yet you can't deny the way you feel about them. The way every part of you begs for them.

"Yes, please-" Natasha steals your words by curling her fingers inside your wet heat, your thighs shaking from the force of holding back your orgasm. "Wanna cum, please-"

Wanda shushes you, knowing exactly how to soothe you when you need it most. She doesn't give you the permission you need, though, and in your desperation, you miss the silent conversation the two lovers have.

The seconds seem to stretch into hours until finally, Natasha gives in. "Go ahead, detka, cum for us."

She dives back in, her tongue drawing circles on your sensitive cit as her fingers move in and out of your cunt. The pleasure builds and builds, spurred on by Wanda's fingers playing with your nipples.

All it takes is the witch pinching your hardened peaks once more for you to fall over the edge for them.

Your mouth falls open in a loud moan, your whole body shaking as the waves of pleasure overtake your senses. Even as you lose control of yourself, the two women don't relent or give you a second to catch your breath.

As much as you'd love to complain about it, you can't when all you can think about is the electric sensations coursing through your body.

You cry out as Natasha continues her assault on your oversensitive clit, your hips shaking as you try to move away from her. Instead of scolding you for moving so much, she groans against you, causing your walls to clench around her in response.

"Don't fight it, sweetheart," Wanda mumbles, her lips grazing your jaw. "Just let Daddy make you feel good. It's what you wanted, right? Now take it like a good girl."

"Uh-huh, fu-" Your attempts at words turn into needy sounds that spur the redhead on.

"One more, detka, do it for me, yeah?"

Despite your initial complaints, your body gives in to the pleasure almost instantly. It's not fully surprising but it's certainly overwhelming and it sends you deeper into the fuziness filling your mind.

Natasha does her best to hold you down even as your hips buck desperately into her face. She works a third finger inside you and it takes all your self-restraint to not fall apart at the feeling.

"Please!" You gasp. "Can I cum?"

This time, the witch takes over and gently guides you toward your orgasm. "Go ahead, angel, you've been so good for us, just let go."

So, you do.

You give up control and let go.

You're not sure what happens, all you know is your whole body tenses as the coil in your stomach snaps free. You're too far gone to realize what a mess you make of yourself and the sheets beneath you, but the satisfaction in Natasha's movements isn't lost on you.

She works you through the seemingly never-ending aftershocks, easing herself away from your clit and slowly pulling her fingers out of your cunt. "So fucking beautful..."

Your body finally goes limp and you practically melt against Wanda. Her arms wrap around your waist while she places soft kisses to every inch of your face she can reach. "Good girl. You did so well."

You hum in response, barely registering Natasha's movements as she does her best to clean you up.

The bed shifts when the redhead finishes and you instantly know she's moving away from both of you. You try to complain but the words don't seem to form.

"Shhh, just rest, kotenok, you need it."

You want to argue and assure her you feel fine, but you can't seem to find the strength to open your eyes. All you manage to do is whine, earning yourself a chuckle from Wanda.

"Don't pout, baby. You're my good girl, right?"

You wait for Natasha to correct her. To jump in and say you're their good girl.

But she doesn't.

And the longer the silence goes on, the more it hurts your feelings.

"Mommy..." You whisper.

She presses a soft kiss to your temple as her hands go back to caressing your sides. "I know. We'll figure it out later, just sleep for now."

There's little for you to do besides give in and let sleep overcome you.

* * *

When you wake up, you instantly notice the lack of warmth against you. Your head's still a little fuzzy but you feel slightly more in control now. You're also still pretty drowsy, though.

You attempt to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes as you lift your head, your eyes searching around the room for Wanda.

Instead of the witch, you find her girlfriend curled up in the reading chair in the corner of the room. There's a certain tension in her form that tells you far more than she'd like.

"Maria called," Natasha says, her voice colder than you've heard it in a while. "Wanda had to go. It sounded like she'll be gone for a few weeks."

Oh.

At least that explains why the redhead looks so...vulnerable and...lost.

Their relationship has always been a bit of a mystery to you. Despite the many nights you've listened to Wanda complain about the assassin's shitty coping mechanisms, you don't know many details about their connection.

You just know that somehow...they work. Despite their traumas and their pain, they understand each other.

And then there's you.

You're even less sure of where you fit in.

Of how Natasha feels about you.

"You can at least pretend to be happy to spend time with me," she says, effectively cutting off your thoughts.

"I am," you reply without skipping a beat. "I just...didn't think you'd be thrilled about it."

"Why? Because I'm the big bad girlfriend who has no feelings? Who doesn't give a shit about anyone?"

Despite her attempts to sound mad, her tone gives away how hurt she is. How terrified she is that you see her like that. That you think she's half as bad as the stories you've heard about her.

"No, I just...well, I know you and Wanda had that arrangement and everything but you didn't ask for this. I thought you just saw me as her annoying pet."

The corners of her mouth twitch a little as she tries to hold in her smile. "I did at first. It's nothing personal, hearing Wanda say she wanted you was...a little hard to deal with."

"Yeah, I figured." You sit up with your back against the headrest, your eyes absentmindedly admiring Natasha's features. Even with the distance between you, she looks stunning. "It wasn't easy for me either, y'know? I felt really guilty about it."

"That didn't stop you from sleeping with her the first time, though."

"Well, no but...in my defense, you can't exactly say no to Wanda when her mind is made up."

That earns you a quiet chuckle. "Yeah, you can say that again. Why do you think you're here? Wanda didn't want to let you go after the first time."

It's not necessarily news considering how things went down after the first time, but you can't act like your heart doesn't skip a beat at her words. The confirmation that the witch wanted you is one thing, but you're still not sure how Natasha feels. Something that's not surprising considering how closed off she is.

"And you?" You ask, hoping you sound less nervous than you feel.

It takes Natasha a few seconds to form her response. You can't exactly blame her but the silence makes your skin crawl. The fear that she doesn't want you, that she doesn't care, rises up within you the longer it drags on.

Finally, she eases your mind.

"Let's just say you've grown on me, kitten."

It's not much and yet it's more than enough for you. It reinforces the connection you've started feeling with her. The bond that demands to be nurtured despite how unusual it is.

Then again, wanting unsual things is kind of your thing at this point.

"You've grown on me too," you mutter, doing your best to ignore the warmth that spreads along your face.

"That doesn't mean you're not still our pet, though," she clarifies. "...if you want, that is. It can stay casual or we can turn it into more. We can train you. I can train you, if you want to be our submissive."

It takes a second for the words to fully sink in.

You nod before you even know what you're doing. You don't need to think about it, though, it's what you want. You want them. And all the little nuances that come with them.

Natasha watches you for a moment, her eyes studying you as if she's waiting for you to realize what you're doing and back out instantly. You can't exactly put your reasons into words to ease her mind. All you know is you've never wanted anything the way you want them.

Despite not being a mindreader like her girlfriend, the assasin is quick to move toward you once the thought of being fully theirs crosses your mind.

"You sure you've got what it takes, kitten?" She asks as she settles onto your lap. "I'm a lot to handle."

"I can take it," you reply, your hands landing on her waist without a second thought. "I want you."

Finally, your words are enough to break through her defenses. 

It doesn't feel like enough and yet it's exactly what she had wanted to hear. What she was afraid you wouldn't want.

"Then you have me," she says, her voice far softer than you've ever heard it.

There's so much you want to say, but words don't seem to be enough right now. So, instead, you lean forward and press your lips to hers.

You're not completely sure how you ended up here but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

[art]

Creator Spotlight: @jdebbiel

Deb JJ Lee is a non-binary Korean artist based in Brooklyn, NY. They have appeared in the New Yorker, New York Times, NPR, Google, Radiolab, and more. Their award-winning graphic memoir, IN LIMBO, about mental illness and difficult relationships with trauma, released in March 2023 from First Second.

Below is our interview with Deb!

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

That implies I am over my art block, but I’m still in it! I think about Kiki’s Delivery Service a lot and how she had to stop doing a thing, and that you can’t really force it, and you have to let it come back to you. It’s a pretty humbling moment, realizing there is more to life than just drawing. I’ve been trying to consume other content like reading or watching movies—anything that is not drawing-related—and to trust that it will come back to me. I think not being afraid to do the small pieces before committing to the big pieces is helpful. Because big pieces are what I am known for, I dig myself into a deeper hole, thinking that each piece has to be bigger than the last one. So yeah! Relaxing and doing the small things before overcommitting to a big piece is the best way to go about it for me.

Which 3 famous artists (dead or alive) would you invite to your dinner party?

I feel like these are all artists that I have second-degree connections with! Jillian Tamaki, Victo Ngai, and Tillie Walden would be my picks!

What are your file name conventions?

…What file name conventions? I mean, I don’t have specific file name conventions, but I actually have a public Google Drive archive! But I usually put “djjl_whatever-the-title-is_final,” and I would always know it’s the final and legit version.

What is a recent creative project that you are proud of?

I did an illustration for the whiskey brand Johnnie Walker. It’s so wild because I only had four days to finish it, and it usually takes me a week and a half if I rush. And honestly, it’s probably one of my best pieces from this year, which is funny. It was for the Mid-Autumn festival, so I made it as Korean as possible.

How has technology changed the way you approach your work?

I only use my iPad to draw everything now, and if I want to pretend that I have a steady workstation, I’ll use my Cintiq. I still am not as comfortable on the Cintiq as I am on Procreate, but it’s still pretty solid and nice. That’s the good part about technology. The bad part about technology is how AI art has been messing things up for me. I’m currently in a lawsuit about AI art as a class rep. Some of my stuff got turned into AI art late last year, so I have to give a deposition at some point. 

What is a convention experience that has stuck with you?

Honestly, they’re all good! I feel like Lightbox Expo has been really nice because it’s truly been a convention for artists. I feel like that’s where most of my audience is, and they’re all around because their purpose is to be better at art. That’s where a lot of original artists do well because they’re getting art they’re inspired by, not so much fanart. I like the Lightbox Expo because it encompasses the pure love of art very well. 

Top tips on setting up an Artist Alley booth?

Use a Y axis, not just your X axis! Take advantage of it! Branding is also something to think about. It is definitely something I’m getting better at. Having an assistant is also very important. I’ve also heard that 8.5x11 to 12x18 inches is usually a good size for prints, but I also provide postcard-sized prints because sometimes people don’t want to commit to a larger size. 

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

You know this is so funny. I’ve been following @alicexz for over a decade on Tumblr and other platforms. I’ve followed her work since high school, and we’ve only recently become peers. I found her, and we met for the first time in real life, and she recognized me. And then I found all my drawings from when I was in my Alice phase, back in high school, and I was like, “Yo, this is when I was trying to be you so badly!” and she was cracking up and was like “Wow, this is so good!” It was such a sweet moment. I wanted to take a picture of her holding my drawing up. It’s really nice because now we’re peers.

Thank you so much for stopping by and sharing, Deb! Be sure to check out their Tumblr blog over at @jdebbiel.

[stellas-and-tonitruses]

Everything we know about Project Apple (and, by extension, Anya's past) thus far

thought i'd compile all of that now while endo's on break Just In Case the next chapter happens to start anya's backstory (i don't Think it will but endo likes surprising us LSDFKLFS)

important disclaimer that project apple and the organization in charge of anya's experiments have not been confirmed to be related! there's evidence that they have things in common, in particular employees, but that's our only real connection between the two thus far. still! worth looking into

more under the cut!

so, starting very strongly with the very first mention of anything related to the project: anya's introduction in chapter 1

despite her being a main character, we know very little about her past at the moment, and this little blurb at the beginning makes up a very big portion of what we know.

things to note here:

as an experiment, her name was "Test Subject 007". important to note that the notation differs between her and bond: she was Test Subject 007, bond was Subject 8, no zeroes in there;

she had been made thus by accident, the phrasing itself implying quite heavily that she was just a normal child before said accident (but this is the translation! i don't know japanese so i can't cross-reference with the raws to clarify if the phrasing changes anything, but the fanbook uses the word "gained" to describe her powers too);

because her mind-reading is an unintended consequence, that means the scientists were presumably not, at least initially, trying to achieve cognitive enhancements in humans, and were instead trying to achieve something else, whatever that might've been;

she escaped from the facility and then moved from institution to institution, looking for a family.

so, crucially, through this little introduction we learn that there is an organization, government-funded or otherwise, that is or was conducting human experiments for unknown purposes. we also learn that whatever family anya had prior to being involved in the experiments is more than likely unreachable, at least as far as she knows, and so she has settled for finding a new family to take care of her instead.

in terms of the facility itself, here we see they clearly drilled it into her that she can't ever reveal her secret (and the darn plush is there too -- in the anime it's even more emphasized, as you can see in the gif i made)

through her reminiscing though, we get our very first look at the scientists that were in charge of her! they're in the gif above but here they are in the manga too. it's so interesting that the anime actually shows their eyes behind the glasses though, fascinating choice.

the insistence on world peace is important, as it explains her own personal obsession with it and shows that it's not just because of twilight's own focus on preserving the peace. i also don't think twilight ever really talks about "world peace," only about "preserving the current peace between westalis and ostania" -- anya seems to be the only one talking about WORLD peace (even in the very first scene where either of them mention it in proximity to each other in ch 1, loid says "understanding the other party is the first step towards peace" and anya's interpretation is "understanding me makes world peace?") but take this with a grain of salt because i might be wrong! going through every single mention of peace in the story just to fact check this one little trivia fact is a bit much i think so i'm not doing it JSDFKLSD

but yes

remember mr hair strand and baldy, we'll see them again. not her though, ig she wasn't in charge of bond

now, fast-forwarding to chapter 19, we finally get a name and a premise for the experiments:

"but oana," you might say, "this is talking about animals only! how do we know it's the same project as anya's, which involved human experimentation?"

i don't think it is, is the thing! i think it's related to the experiments anya was a part of, which is evidenced by the same scientists being featured in project apple too, but there's more going on that we don't know about. there wouldn't be such adamancy on keeping the two separate in every official mention of them if they were just the same thing, imo!

back to the evidence, we learn that the project, conducted and funded by the previous ostanian regime (meaning donovan's related to it one way or another, since he was prime minister), was marked by franticness and desperation -- a prime place for accidents like anya's telepathy and bond's future vision.

we also learn that the project was sacked by the new administration and that the former test subjects ended up on the black market.

(this makes it very important, imo, to learn when anya escaped the facility vs. when the project was sacked. it's clearly no longer in function, but while we've heard nothing from them thus far, i'm willing to bet the shady dealings around the desmond group are NOT related to the war, as W.I.S.E. has been led to believe, but rather to reignite project apple. that is speculation however so i'm going to refrain from theorising much on why the desmond group is focused on acquiring pharmaceutical companies!!)

ok speculation tangent over, back on track

so, that's already a decent amount of info! but moving to chapter 22, when bond is finally home, and we finally see some familiar faces

behold! baldy and mr hair strand!

and 2 other guys we don't know but will see again in another bond flashback!

that's 2 out of the 3 scientists we've seen thus far from anya's own time as subject 007, confirming that there IS a connection between anya and bond's experiments, regardless of whatever the project anya was a part of might've been named.

this is also the chapter in which we learn that bond himself was subject 8 (or, if we take it from the fanbook, subject #8. still, diff notation from anya!)

in chapter 31, we learn an interesting tiny piece of trivia. we don't get any further info on it, but it IS mentioned as something that is known by W.I.S.E.:

ostania is rumoured to have done human experimentation! and W.I.S.E., and by extension loid, are aware of that.

do i know how them knowing may be important later? not really!

the next droplet of info we get is in chapter 40. we see that project apple had collaborators that are still functioning unhindered.

of course, born industries is only rumoured to have been involved with project apple, but regardless of whether or not they actually were, the rumour itself implies that the project likely pulled scientists from various other companies' R&D departments.

(this makes the desmond group's acquisition of glooman pharmaceuticals shadier, but anyway)

as a side note, twilight is emoting so much at just his wrong assumption that bond is seeking revenge against the scientists. imagine how he's going to react when he finds out about anya JKSDFKLFSD

and now aaaaall the way in chapter 58, we see the bald guy who anya also knows, the two scientists from bond's previous flashback, and one whole new guy!

and thus ends our current knowledge of it all!

the only other thing worth discussing is anya's knowledge of classical language

but plenty people have already discussed these scenes, especially recently, so here are some links: 1 | 2 | 3

the only thing i can add is that i'm fairly certain that classical language is a lot more likely to be latin than old english, because it's a very common language to learn in school (in europe at least, and ostania is based on east germany so it makes sense to me. i learned mandatory latin in school for a few good years too, even if i wasn't that good at it lol) and because one of the most common modern usages of latin are in medicine and science, it would make sense that she'd be better at it due to exposure.

a possibility is also that the scientists would think in latin to conceal their thoughts from her, and that's how she ended up learning so much. she's not fluent in latin, she's just well acquainted and that cicumstance would explain the how.

BUT THAT'S SPECULATIONNN

also i don't think "ANIA" is an acronym, nor do i think anya's been misspelling her own name out of lack of knowledge. "ania" is a polish diminutive of anna and an alternate transcription of Аня, so i think it's far more likely that anya isn't ostanian or westalian than it is that her name comes from an acronym.

now,

TL;DR!

what we know about project apple (and the "mysterious organization"):

project apple was funded and conducted by what appears to have been donovan's regime and, from what W.I.S.E. knows, aimed to create highly intelligent animals for military purposes;

W.I.S.E. is aware that ostania is at the very least rumoured to have dabbled in human experimentation;

the project is presumably no longer on-going, though it is likely there are efforts behind the scenes to revive it;

it is rumoured but not confirmed that project apple had collaborating companies that are still functioning perfectly fine;

the same scientists who were in charge of bond were also in charge of anya, signalling that there is a very significant connection between project apple and the "mysterious organization;"

based on what they were telling anya, they were/are very focused on "world peace";

their experimentation methods include but likely aren't limited to electrocution.

and what we (vaguely) know about anya that relates to this:

she is at the youngest, 4 years old, and at the oldest, 5 nearing 6. we don't know her real age, all we know is she definitely lied about being 6;

she is very fixated on specifically world peace while twilight is focused on peace between ostania and westalis. the scientists are the very first we see talking about this, so it's likely their fault;

she is unreasonably well acquainted with classical language;

she has escaped the facility at LEAST 1 year ago;

and, one tidbit from the fanbook (page 29): "Anya has been reading minds for as long as she can remember," implying that her memory of a life before the lab is muddy at best and absent at worst.

that's all we know that i know of!!

if you got this far, thank you for reading :D hope any of this was interesting or sparked any theories >:] have a good day!

[edenesth]

The Way to His Heart [10]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 4.5k

Trigger Warnings: graphic violence/torture, gore, implied mutilation

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 9 | Fic Masterlist | Part 11

"You wanted to see me, sir?" Wooyoung called out, entering the general's study with Jongho following closely behind, having been summoned to the estate.

Seonghwa looked up from his desk, "Ah yes, I heard you turned down the bonus incentive we offered. Why is that? Is there something else that you wish to have?"

Having encountered few who would refuse extra money, your husband found it hard to comprehend the private investigator's decision. Most people around him were usually drawn by the allure of his wealth or other associated benefits, which left him curious about Wooyoung's motives for declining the bonus. Surely, there was something specific he desired.

The younger man beamed, "My lord, I wasn't working so willingly for you because I wanted something more from you. Honestly, nothing makes me happier than being recognised by you! I just... okay, maybe there is one thing I really want."

Raising his brow, the general was not surprised by the sudden admission, "Go on, name it then."

With a cheeky grin, the investigator replied, "It's that you allow me to help you with whatever problems you have now!"

Your husband rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, "What do you mean? I have no problems now; the worst is over."

"Really? Is that why you're here sulking alone instead of being with Lady Park? You clearly want to be near her, and yet, here you are, staying away from her because you haven't a clue how to face her after the traumatising ordeal you put her through yesterday."

That finally piqued Seonghwa's attention, prompting him to sit up straighter, though he attempted to maintain a nonchalant demeanour, "H-how did you figure that out?"

Without waiting for Wooyoung's response, he shook his head, "No, wait, actually, I don't want to know that. Just tell me... what should I do? I realise I haven't considered well enough what she went through, but I... I've never had to care for someone like this before, and I'm not really sure how to..."

The investigator offered an understanding smile, "My lord, the key to any relationship is communication. You need to talk to Lady Park. Ask her how she's feeling, and tell her you're sorry for what she went through. Avoiding each other won't solve anything; it will only create more distance between you two. You're her pillar of support now, and she needs to feel that you're there for her. You both deserve happiness, but it starts with open and honest communication."

Absorbing the advice, the general nodded thoughtfully, "You're right, Wooyoung. I appreciate your straightforwardness. I'll go talk to her and make things right."

Without hesitating, he sprang from his chair and made his way out of the study. The assistant and his friend couldn't contain their laughter, covering their mouths with their hands, but quickly composed themselves when Seonghwa glanced back at them, "Oh, and please, accept the bonus. You deserve it, especially after this."

Before Wooyoung could object, he had already exited the room and was rushing down the path toward the House of Lotus, his heart pounding at the thought of seeing his wife again.

He remembered how quiet you had been during the entire journey back home the day before, your gaze fixed on the passing scenery outside the window. While you weren't overtly distant or cold to him, you seemed lost in thought throughout dinner. You excused yourself early, retiring to your quarters. The atmosphere carried an unspoken tension, making him hesitant to say anything for fear of your potential reaction.

Reflecting on it, he realised he should have assured you that things would be better from that point forward. Rather than maintaining a facade of normalcy, he regretted not breaking the silence and being there for you in that moment of unease.

His steps hesitated, and his breath deepened as you finally appeared in his line of sight, seated alone in the pavilion outside your room. Your lady etiquette books lay open beside you, but the faraway look in your eyes remained glued to the horizon beyond the lotus pond. For a moment, he stood there, appreciating your beauty, suddenly feeling thankful you looked nothing like your father.

However, as soon as you turned your head slightly and noticed him standing by the entrance, he blinked rapidly, feeling flustered. Gathering his courage, he took a deep breath and approached you.

Just go talk to her, you fool.

Seeing him approach, you closed the books and made room for him to sit in the small pavilion. He offered a warm smile, "Hey, I hope I'm not bothering you or anything."

Shaking your head, you returned a small smile, "No, not at all. I tried to study, but I just... I couldn't."

As he settled down beside you, reaching for your hand, you didn't flinch or pull away. He released a relieved breath and moved closer, "It's alright, you don't have to force yourself. I know you're probably upset with me. I... I'm sorry, my dear."

Lifting your head to meet his eyes, you furrowed your brows, "What? Why would I be upset with you?"

He winced, wondering if you were intentionally testing him to see if he knew what he did wrong. But then again, he knew you would never do anything like that. Sighing, he admitted, "Look, I know I should've thought things through better yesterday. I was so focused on wanting to punish your family for what they did, I forgot about how horrible it must have been for you to go back there and sit through all of that."

"I acknowledge it was a mistake. My intention was to give you a chance to confront your family by taking you to your old room. I didn't think it would affect you so badly. I realise now that it was a misguided decision, and I regret taking you back to that place. I'm a goddamned idiot."

His admission tugged at your heart, and you responded by placing a comforting hand over his.

"Seonghwa, you're not an idiot. I'm not upset with you," You assured him, "I've been quiet since the visit because I'm still processing the fact that my own father killed my mother. All this time, I believed she died from sickness. Now, I can't help but wonder how different my life would have been if only she were still alive. He took her away from me just like that, and for what? All for his own selfish reasons..."

"I just... I feel so—" Tears welled up in your eyes, and your voice broke, "I-I'm sorry..." You pulled your hands away from him, attempting to wipe your eyes, but he gently grasped your shoulders and turned you to face him.

"No, you need to stop apologising. You have every right to be sad, and I'm here to tell you that you never have to endure any more of the pain you're going through alone. I'm here for you, okay? From now on, I want you to lean on me whenever things get too unbearable. Can you do that?"

Feeling the genuine warmth in Seonghwa's tone and seeing the unmistakable care in his eyes, you finally broke down. The weight of the revelations, the pain of your father's actions, and the years of emotional torment spilt over, and you couldn't hold back your tears any longer. He pulled you close, cradling you in his arms as you sobbed against his shoulder.

Whispering comforting words into your ear, he pressed gentle kisses onto the top of your head. His touch was a soothing balm, providing the comfort and support you desperately needed in that moment. As you let out your emotions, he held you tighter.

The sound of your heart-wrenching cries only caused an uncomfortable squeeze in his heart. The general had never experienced this kind of ache before. Throughout his life, he had always believed that no one had a tougher life than he did. But then you came along, with your fragile form, managing to shake his entire world and alter his perspectives on life. All of a sudden, the notion of having someone to protect and care for didn't seem so repulsive, especially when it was you.

You slowly pulled back, staring up at him through your wet lashes, and offered a grateful smile, "Seonghwa, I want to thank you for doing all this for me. I never imagined someone caring enough to go through all that trouble. I promise, in return, I'll try my hardest to be a worthy wife for you."

He wiped away your tears tenderly and gazed into your eyes, "You don't need to prove anything, my love. You're already perfect, just as you are."

Your heart raced, and your eyes widened as you stuttered, "W-wait, what... what did you just call me?"

He stilled, realising the words that had slipped from his mouth before he softened. Leaning close, he pressed his forehead against yours, "My love."

Seonghwa's presence became almost intoxicating. Feeling him so close, as if with a mind of its own, your eyes slowly fluttered closed. He took that as permission to lean in further, and after what felt like an eternity, his lips touched yours in a soft and tentative kiss. When you didn't push him away, he bravely angled his head before pressing his lips firmly against yours.

Finally, our first kiss.

Pulling away after a while to catch your breath, you bit your lip shyly, "I-I'm sorry if I wasn't—"

He shook his head, "Don't worry, it's my first time kissing someone too," He admitted, struggling to take his eyes off your swollen lips. A soft smile played on his lips as he caressed your cheek with his thumb, "Can I..." He asked with half-lidded eyes, and you nodded breathlessly.

Without wasting another moment, he captured your lips in another loving kiss. The world seemed to fade away, leaving only the warmth of each other's presence. His touch was gentle yet filled with a depth of emotion. As the kiss deepened, you felt a rush of emotions, a mix of vulnerability and passion.

Feeling the need for air, he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. Your eyes met, and you could see the affection and sincerity in his gaze, "You're perfect." He whispered, his voice filled with tenderness, realising that kissing you might just be his new favourite thing to do from now onwards. The moment lingered, the air charged with newfound emotions. It was a beginning, a sweet promise of the love that had blossomed between you.

"Your Majesty, please—"

The King slammed his fists against the handle of his throne, causing the minister to gasp and lower his head. He shook like a leaf, awaiting his impending doom as the ruler declared, "I don't want to hear another word from you, Jang. You're a bloody disappointment. Actually, you're worse than that, you monster."

Kneeling beside your father were your stepmother and stepsisters, equally trembling. Pathetic tears rolled down their cheeks as they attempted to put on a pity show, hoping to move His Majesty's heart. However, their efforts did little to appease his rage. He scoffed in disbelief at their audacity to cry, considering all the despicable things they had done to you and your mother.

This marked the first time the four women had set foot in the palace, and little did they anticipate it would be under such circumstances. The visit might also be their only time here, as the imminent judgement from the King would decide their fate.

Seonghwa stood in the corner, arms crossed over his chest, an amused expression on his face. He left home that morning after a lingering kiss on your lips, feeling rejuvenated and determined. Choosing not to burden you with the details of today's assembly, he shielded you from further thoughts about your family.

Don't worry, my love. I'll make sure they suffer a punishment worse than death.

"I can't stand to look at you imbeciles for another moment longer. Let's get this over with already. Royal Secretary Choi, would you be so kind as to enlighten us with all of Minister Jang's crimes and his punishments?" said the King.

Stepping forward from his corner next to the throne, San bowed, "As you wish, Your Majesty," Tugging open the scroll in his hands, he began reading out loud, "Minister Jang has committed a total of five crimes. First, he committed adultery voluntarily, and for that, he will be whipped with eighty lashes. Second, he committed the crime of official document forgery, and for that, he will be whipped an additional twenty lashes."

Dread filled the minister as he gulped, anxiously listening to the secretary move on to the next section, "Third, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of his own daughter, an innocent citizen, he will be flogged thirty times. Next, for violating the code of ethics as a minister, which is to be a law-abiding citizen, he will be stripped of his title and flogged another twenty times."

As your father's hands trembled, he attempted to hold himself up by pressing his sweaty palms against the floor, breathing heavily as he awaited the final and most severe punishment. San continued, "And finally, for the murder of his first wife, an innocent citizen, he will be sentenced to permanent exile."

That's... it?

Feeling a sliver of hope, the old man let out a small sigh of relief. At least it wasn't death by beheading or arsenic poisoning as he had feared. Banishment seemed acceptable; he supposed he could still live a quiet life somewhere away from here. Bowing deeply, he cried, "Thank you, Your Majesty! Your grace is immeasurable!"

All the ministers and officials present quickly stole glances at Seonghwa, wondering if he would throw a fit and object to the punishment that was yet to be the heaviest one. However, they failed to discern his feelings, as there was only an unreadable smirk on his handsome face.

Lady Jang and her daughters trembled as they awaited their turn. With a nod from the King, the secretary continued, "Moving on, Lady Jang has committed a total of four crimes. First, she voluntarily committed adultery, and for that, she will be whipped eighty lashes. Second, she committed the crime of official document forgery, and for that, she will be whipped an additional twenty lashes."

She nodded to herself, seemingly already accepting her fate, as she listened, "Third, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of the minister's eldest daughter, an innocent citizen, she will be flogged thirty times. And finally, for being an accomplice to the murder of the first Lady Jang, she will be sentenced to penal servitude for life."

Her eyes shot up immediately, finding it hard to accept that she would be separated from her husband. She had believed she, too, would be exiled along with him. But she quickly lowered her gaze as soon as she saw the glare the King had directed at her, as if daring her to complain about it.

Oh god, my life is over...

Noticing the King's patience wearing thin, San quickly concluded with the final sentencing, "Lastly, for the confinement, continuous abuse, and mistreatment of the minister's eldest daughter, an innocent citizen, the three young misses of the Jang family will be flogged thirty times each and sentenced to penal servitude for a total of thirty years."

All three of the sisters' jaws fell slack at their punishment. After living luxurious lives like spoiled brats for so long, they were now expected to be servants, performing hard labour for three decades. All their dreams of getting married and leading comfortable lives were shattered. The prospect of finding suitors after serving their sentences seemed bleak. Their lives were forever ruined, and things would never be the same.

"Now that that's settled, remove these individuals from my sight, and see to it that they receive their physical punishments by today. I don't want their presence contaminating my palace walls any longer than necessary. Moving on to the next agenda, let us discuss who will stand in as the interim Minister of Military Affairs until we elect a new one." The ruler grumbled, waving his hands dismissively.

Seonghwa grinned smugly, relishing the way your father's face fell as he absorbed His Majesty's words. The King fully intended to drive the point home, reminding him that, no matter how much he believed he contributed to the nation, he, too, was just as disposable. Consider it emotional torment for further punishment, if you will.

As the members of the Jang family were forcefully pulled to their feet and guided toward the palace torture chamber where all punishments for criminals were administered, the general bowed deeply, "Your Majesty, forgive this humble subject for not feeling too well. Would it be possible for me to excuse myself from the remainder of today's assembly?"

With a knowing glint in his eyes, the King nodded, "Of course, my boy. Nothing matters more than your well-being. I'll have Royal Secretary Choi send you the minutes of today's meeting later on."

All eyes were fixed on your husband as he confidently exited the hall, wearing an excessively pleased expression, looking a little too content to be feeling unwell as he had claimed. It became evident to everyone that he was plotting something, a scheme that even His Majesty was privy to and had tacitly approved.

"P-please, have mercy!"

Screams reverberated within the dim and eerie confines of the torture chamber, a place the general once frequented during his duties of interrogating spies, war criminals, and suspicious individuals to maintain peace within the nation.

The familiar sounds of your family's agonising cries filled his ears, and he couldn't suppress the chuckle that escaped his lips as he entered, "Ah yes, music to my ears."

Upon his arrival, all the royal guards present swiftly bowed deeply and greeted Seonghwa with respect, "Good day, General Park!" They dared not continue until he gave them a nod, "Go on, don't let me stop you. I'm only here to enjoy the show."

"Yes, sir!" They chanted in unison. To many young soldiers and palace guards, he was akin to a god, an embodiment of success they aspired to achieve one day. Therefore, his mere presence motivated them to perform their duties with increased ruthlessness and precision.

Taking a seat in the centre of the room, your husband bit his lip with a smug expression, locking eyes with your father whose gaze reflected anguish. The elderly man lay face down on a wooden table, enduring lash after lash on his already bloody and battered back. His painful ordeal was far from over.

Whimpering, your father pleaded, "S-Seonghwa, I'm s-still your father-in-law! Please, at least show a little mercy to your wife's father!" Beside him, his wife nodded pathetically, sharing the same painful fate. Meanwhile, the three daughters stood frozen in a corner, wrists cuffed, awaiting their turn to face their beatings.

A devilish laughter escaped the general as he shot a menacing glare at the former minister, "Oh, I'm sorry, was that supposed to make things any better? I would show you mercy if only you had shown my wife any. You shouldn't have said anything, you fool," Turning to the guard in charge of whipping your father, your husband ordered, "Not hard enough, soldier. I want to see his skin tear."

"Yes, sir!" Striking with increased force, the lashes landed on the old man's back, inflicting wounds that would take months to heal. The continuous shrieks of pain only served to widen the smile on Seonghwa's face, "And to think you were thanking His Majesty for his grace; you've underestimated the severity of being whipped, haven't you? Did you really think you were going to walk out of here with a small bruise? Dream on."

"Oh, I can't wait for all of you to experience the wonders of flogging! It will be delightful, a punishment perfectly suited for your kind." The general sang, eyeing the three girls slyly.

They cowered under his intense gaze, suddenly regretting every action they took on the day of your visit. Perhaps if they hadn't attempted any of those, they might have gotten away with a lighter sentence. But there was no point dwelling on such thoughts now.

"Father! Mother!" The girls cried, witnessing their parents only now completing the first half of their punishment. Before they could continue their wailing, guards approached them, saying, "Quiet down! Worry about yourselves instead; it's your turn."

The former minister and his wife looked practically lifeless by the time the guards were finished with their hundred lashes each. The skin on their backs was completely torn open, blood gushing out relentlessly. They were nearly unconscious by the time the guards moved them to separate poles, where they would be beaten with a heavy stick all over their bodies.

Letting out a small yawn, Seonghwa signalled for them to prepare for the flogging. This would be entertaining to witness; most criminals barely survived this punishment by the time it concluded. He would relish the idea of them being left in critical conditions.

"Enjoy yourselves! Thirty times each for what you've all done to my wife – just the perfect amount to leave you halfway to hell. Don't worry; you'll wish you were dead by the end of this. But rest assured, we will keep you alive," Your husband exclaimed with a clap of his hands, "Now, I want you to think of all the things you've done to my wife as you endure this. Can we all do that?"

In the ensuing silence, the guards approached each family member, forcefully striking them with the heavy sticks in their hands. With just one hit, all of them began howling in pain, "Answer the general! Can you all do as you are told?!"

"Y-yes! Yes!" All five of them sobbed miserably, and the general beamed, "Fantastic! Now, let the official flogging begin! The first one does not count, alright? Consider it warm up!"

The insanity in his eyes was genuinely terrifying, and your family was once again reminded of his reputation. Suddenly, it all made sense. This was how it felt to be a victim of his cruelty. They never should have sent you to him; that was their biggest mistake, and nothing they do or say could ever change that now.

"Yes, sir!"

And so it began, the screams that now filled the room were even more piercing than the ones during the first round of whipping.

Approaching each family member one by one, Seonghwa smirked, "Remember all the times you starved her?" Jinjoo nodded in between shrieks, "Good. And you, recall all the times you insulted her and made her feel small?" Jinhee repeated her sister's actions, nodding furiously, "Very good. And you, remember all the times you did something wrong and blamed it on her so that she would take your punishments for you?"

Jinah cried, tears and snot running down her sweaty face, "I'm sorry!" He shook his head, "Will saying a useless sorry change anything? Nope. Hit her harder, soldier," With a grin of approval, he moved on to your stepmother, "And you, recall all the times you kept her locked up in that prison cell you call her room?" Not wanting to suffer like her eldest, she nodded aggressively, "Good."

Finally stopping in front of your father, he crossed his arms over his chest, "And you, remember all the times you laid your hands on her? Your own daughter?" The former minister nodded quickly but was not spared, "Good, hit him even harder so he never forgets how it feels."

"Twenty-nine, thirty." The beatings stopped for the four women, and they collapsed one by one onto the floor like rag dolls. Blood trickled from their noses and the corners of their lips, their bodies covered in countless bruises and open wounds, soaking their clothes red. And that is only what can be seen on the outside; who knew what fatal internal injuries they could be suffering from.

With his hands propped on his hips, Seonghwa took in the sight with satisfaction, "Very well, some of these scars should last you for life. Now, you look as bad as the way you'd left my wife. Actually, worse. But that's good. I'm very happy with the outcome. Guards, take them away and make sure to send them to places where they're known to treat their servants poorly."

The girls sobbed upon hearing that, "General, please, have mercy! We've already suffered enough!" Your husband scoffed, "Mercy? Have you not been paying attention this entire time? I'm not known for that. Get them out of my sight."

As the guards dragged the wailing women out, they cried for their husband and father. The former minister yelled, still taking his twenty additional beatings as he watched his wife and daughters go, "W-will you not at least let me say my final goodbyes to them?"

"Minister, please don't make me laugh. Did you also allow my wife and her poor mother a final goodbye?" The old man had nothing to say at that, grunts of pain escaping his lips as he tried to endure the remainder of his punishment despite feeling like all of his insides had been beaten to mush at this point. He didn't have to look down to know that he was soaked in blood; he could feel the sting on his wounds whenever the slightest bit of wind blew past.

Just a bit more, and I'm free.

« Preview of Part 11 »

"Forty-nine, fifty." Your father sighed in relief when the punishment finally ceased. Collapsing to the ground upon being untied, he stared blankly ahead, feeling pain throughout his entire body. Slowly but surely, he slipped into unconsciousness due to the loss of blood.

Unfortunately, his respite was short-lived. A bucket of dirty water was abruptly dumped over him, causing him to scream in agony as the injuries on his body stung intensely, bringing tears to his eyes.

"Did you think it was over?" His blood ran cold as he noticed he was now tied to a chair, unable to move. With most of the guards gone, only him and Seonghwa remained.

"What do you think you're doing, general? I've completed all my physical punishments; you're supposed to banish me now!" The old man croaked, his eyes widening in fear as he noticed the dagger in your husband's hand.

The general burst into laughter, "Oh, minister, you can be quite slow at times. Did you genuinely believe that His Majesty's decision not to sentence you to death was an act of kindness? Who do you think requested your exile?"

"Y-you—"

Seonghwa smirked, "Indeed, it was me. Killing you would have been too merciful. No, I want you to endure a life so filled with pain that you wish for death every single day. Now, after seeing how skilled you were at begging all day, I believe you'd make a very talented beggar. Do you know what would make you a successful beggar?"

Tears streaming down his face, your father shook his head hopelessly as your husband traced the blade against his skin before whispering, "One without limbs."

That was the most violence I have ever written HAHA I had to channel my inner Joker for Seonghwa's character. Anyway, I hope that was satisfying enough!

As always, thank you for reading and let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/5): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy

Tag list (cont.): see comment/reply section

All Rights Reserved © edenesth // DO NOT REPOST, TRANSLATE, PLAGIARISE OR REPURPOSE.

[diejager]

We need more Dark!Captain Price please!!

Behave, Love

Pairing: Dark! Captain John Price x fem!reader

Cw: implied smut, DARK, IMPLIED NON-CON, possessive behaviour, kidnapping, kinda Stockholm syndrome, captive reader, mean Price, punishment, basement wife?, tell me if I missed any. Wc: 2.6k

“We have guests tonight, love,” he told you this morning before leaving.

That was a warning, the only one you needed to understand what you were told - ordered - to do. You spent the morning cleaning up, wiping off the nonexistent dust from the shelves, washing off the clean tables and surfaces around the house that you’d cleaned yesterday after he called to tell you that he was coming home. The following hours were spent vacuuming the wooden floor and mopping up any nano-spill of some kind. Only after the long hours you took to clean every speck of dust in your shared home, did you start cooking.

Price was a simple man in the things he liked, he might’ve been strategic in his plays and his decisions, down to the smallest aspects of each mission, or preferring his gun or knives maintained in a specific way that was his only, but anything at home, he liked simple. Perhaps it was a blessing for you, never spending time learning how to cook or bake, your training took up all your time and any free time you had was spent resting or on extra training. He liked well-rounded meals, having meat, vegetables and a bit of spice on his plate with rice or fries on the side.

You dread the moments he leaves as much as the giggle of the knob, leaving meant that he’d be watching you remotely, from the small screen of his phone with alarms and countermeasures against your escape - to which you’ve tried and failed many times, the severity of his punishment racking up from an hour in the dark basement to being tied up and tortured to overstimulation of a fake cock moulded to replicate Price’s cock - and his return would leave you at the mercy of his prying eyes and hungry mouth, letting his hands trace the scars that littered your skin. Any sign of disgust: shuddering, flinching or freezing would get you some time in the basement. 

He pulled you from years of training, the result of your blood sweat and tears gone with the flick of Price’s wrist. He had you discharged and had you move in with him - how fortunate you’ve been living on base without an apartment outside of the compound, you saw no use for it if you’d rarely be home - even though you fought against him, tooth and nail. Yet that only landed you in time out - or so he called it. 

“We’re going to get married, love,” he told you, a bright smile hidden under his beard, a wishful gleam in his eyes. 

You weren’t only getting married, you were signing off your body and soul to your captor to become a glorified housewife. From a private to a housewife, how saddening, you couldn’t help that self-deprecating attitude rather than the confidence and strength that were beaten into you during training. 

Any connection to the outside world was cut off, Price made sure that you wouldn’t have any way to contact your family without his supervision - he had you call them once a month to reassure them that you were safe and happy with your new life - or the authorities, not that they’d listen to you with The Captain John Price and his decorated background. Granted, you had a TV to entertain yourself in moments of boredom or the book-filled wall in the living room, even a few recreational activities he wanted you to practise: knitting, sewing, cooking and baking.

Naturally, you turned to cooking and baking as a way to pass the time, leaving the radio or the TV on as background noise to fill the depressing atmosphere. With time, you’d grown more comfortable in the kitchen and Price could trust you with more complicated dishes, even being excited to eat a homemade dinner when he came home. He liked meat, so you read about different meaty dishes - especially with the notion of the other coming over for the afternoon - with good portions of vegetables. 

You moved around the island, setting the table with plates and cups, knives, spoons and forks on the sides with a bowl of fries in the middle. The steaks were almost done, sizzling besides the warm sauce you were boiling after cracking the can. The beans and mashed potato were already set on each plate, waiting for the juicy meat and sauce you worked on, hoping that you’d be finished on time for Price to get home. You hoped Price would be nicer to you while the men ate, nothing too rash or possessive from him during their stay.

The lock clicked as you placed the final piece, the rattle of keys and the familiar steps of Price’s heeled shoes were - unless you missed his soft “I’m home, love.” - the usual sounds you’d hear when he came home, the only indications that you were never truly able to relax.

“Welcome home, John,” you returned, greeting him with a small kiss on the corner of his lips, his bushy beard irritating your cheeks. 

He leaned down, chasing you for a second, deeper kiss, his teeth catching your lower lip before he moved aside to let his coworkers enter. 

“Ma’am,” Gaz jumped in, lowering his cap in a mock bow to you.

Being called ma’am made you feel old and married. While you were married, you were a year or two younger than him with him having an authority over you on base. You didn’t necessarily know him before your discharge, only catching a few glances when either of you were passing through the gym or shooting range, or when you crossed paths in the halls or mess hall. Perhaps in another universe, you would’ve been friends or teammates by chance. You swallowed down a sigh that threatened to slip from your pursed lips.

Soap followed closely behind Gaz with a boisterous greeting of his own, his smile infectious and giddy. How couldn’t you smile back at him when he seemed so happy to be here, you couldn’t bear to break his heart, his puppy-like joy. You shook his hands, they were as firm as the last time, his fingers more calloused and harder on the tips from the many deployments between their last visit. Ghost was a step behind everyone, giving you a quick but welcoming nod, his eyes softening at the dark bags under your eyes. 

“Come in, I was just about finished.”

Without so much of a complaint, they sat down, watching you pour the brown sauce over their plate. Price - as always - sat at the head of the table, watching you and his team from his vantage point. Ghost sat to his left with Soap beside him and Gaz on the opposite from him, taking the seat to your right. The seat to Price’s right was always reserved to you whenever you were present, a rule he imposed himself. He could easily hold your hand while it rested on the table, he could sneakily place his firm hand on your thigh, or he could send you a quiet message through the corner of his eye, something so discreet that not even Ghost noticed.

Dinner with 141 was always animated, with Soap and Gaz throwing jabs at each other and Ghost jumping in with a few jokes of his own - though they were the usual dark and morbid humour that he thrived on - while Price watched over it all, a proud smile adorning his face as his thumb brushed your knuckles. You could see the fatherly joy in his eyes whenever everyone was at the table, this joy that almost made you happy that you were part of this small family - almost. You couldn’t forget the pain and harrowing sadness that clouded your mind every day, Price’s influence on your life becoming the looming shadow that kept you locked away from the freeing sun.

“It was tidy, bonnie!” Soap thanked you, collecting the plates while the rest helped around.

“Thank you, Johnny.”

While you washed the dishes, burly arms reached around your waist and locked fingers, pushing his chest to meet your back. He hummed a comforting tune, peppering your neck and shoulder with kisses, playing the loving and caring husband he was to the rest of the world. Laying his head on your shoulder, he was content with watching you work, ears listening to the chatter in the room and your beating heart, a calm and soft beat that soothed his nerves. 

“A right delight,” Price breathed out, hips swaying side to side in a drawl dance, rocking you along with him. 

He pressed his lips to your ear, mumbling praises for your behaviour and playing the husband he wanted to be - was. He was gentler with you, his strong arms holding you lovingly and expressing his devoted obsession with you with kisses and whispers. It was a side you saw often, Price being the ever-loving man he vowed to give you on the day of your marriage, the other one was the possessive and obsessive man who wanted your everything, your mind, body and soul. That side of him was given to you when you misbehaved, when you did something to displease him or when he deemed you worthy of punishment.

The other rarely saw their captain acting so soft and loving, even toward them, his little, ragtag of a team. Although it was something to be proud of, unendingly happy because at least one of them finally settled down, who were they if they couldn’t jab at Price, just a bit.

“Growing old, Cap���? You look like a romantic sap,” Gaz snickered, watching Price narrow his eyes in mocked anger through squinted eyes.

“Aye, I dinnae yer were a bodach,” Soap elbowed Gaz, failing to hold back his cackle, head tilted back and arms around his abdomen.

“English, Johnny.”

Price huffed, shoulders shaking with his own laughter.

“Oh, sod off,” he spat, lips stretched in a snarky smile. “Am I an old sap, love?” 

He clung to you, hands slipping under the hem of your shirt

“ ‘Course not, John. Maybe romantic, but not old.”

Calling him old wouldn’t do him or you any good, especially since you were married to him, a man over a decade older than you; and calling him romantic would be a lie thrown to the face, at least to you. Price would call himself a romantic man and preen about his rugged, yet gentlemanly character, his hands calloused and loving, his mouth praising and biting, his eyes ravaging and devoted, his acts protective and possessive. How Price would proclaim himself as the perfect husband - he said he was the day he dropped you the discharge letter - and how lucky you were to wound yourself with him rather than any boy your age. 

Price chuckled, his chest rumbling against your back as he tightened his hold around you. He liked your reply, that wide smile pressed to your throat with nipping kisses made you aware of his joy. You rocked back against him, dancing along the lazy sway of his hips, you were catering to his whims to stay safe and alive. His training wasn't for nothing, carved into the seams of your mind with every thrust of his cock or the silicone mimic of his cock. You learned quickly that if Jonathan Price was happy, you’d be safe and unharmed, so you aimed to please him and keep him happy.

If it meant playing the reciprocating and happily married wife to their captain, you’d do that. There wasn’t any loss of dignity and pride in wanting to feel safe, wanting to ignore how his hands gripped you too firmly or how your skin was littered with painful bruises after a rough night. To the Task Force, you were a willingly discharged soldier who became a housewife for their hardworking captain and your loving husband. The gold band carved with curved and intricate words added to the illusion of your perfect life. 

It made you want to scream and pull your hair out at how trusting they were of Price. All and any man had his darkness, that ugly need buried under the mass of duty and morality that made them who they were, but if let loose, they could be like Price, another monster wearing the skin of a man.

You couldn’t help squinting your eyes in a silent plea to the men, watching them drink and laugh merrily without a fault. Being a witness to their bountiful smile and full-bellied laughter when you were glued to your captor by the hip, his arm looped around your waist, pulling you to him. Laying your head on his shoulder as the bottle of whiskey grew lighter and lighter over time, the golden liquid rolling down their throat with a comforting burn after a long week at work. The little glances Price sent your way were reminders for you to behave until the end, his fingers curling over a healing bruise from when he held you too tightly, pussydrunk with his head between your thighs.

You smiled and nodded, going along with whatever they were chatting about, from meaningless affairs to slightly classified subjects. Nothing was off the table with you, they trusted Price enough to trust you with sensitive subjects and they all liked you, someone who could relate to their cause and understand their pains. Perhaps that played a part in his obsession with you.

Even when they stood on your doorstep with slurred speech and hooded eyes, they were always aware of their situation and minds sharp, but they were blind to your plight. Gaz and Soap shook hands with Price, the darker Brit bowing to lift his cap in a familiar salute: “‘Night, ma’am.”

“Thanks fer the meal, bonnie.”

“It’s always a pleasure having you over, Johnny.”

Ghost waved at you from the driving seat, he drank less comparatively to the other men, being designated as the driver between them. You send him a tired grin with a wave of your own, still within Price’s grasp. You looked on beside him as Ghost drove off, returning to base with two drunken sergeants in his custody. With them gone and the door shut and locked - bolted down with keys and codes only he had access to - he pulled you to his chest, rumbling out praises with his deep, soothing voice. 

 “You were so good today, love,” he pressed his lips against yours, hand cupping your nape with a slow lave of his tongue to deepen the kiss. “I’m so proud of you.”

He dragged you away, feet hanging on your toes to follow his movement while letting him press for more kisses, growing passionate and stealing your breath. You clung to him, fingers clawing at his form-fitting shirt as you walked backwards, stepping into your shared room. He blindly kicked the door shut, throwing you to the bed with a rough push. He stared at you through lidded eyes, bouncing on the bed as you scrambled to get your footing before he straddled your hips between his thick thighs, rutting his covered hardness against your stomach. 

His leaky head trapped under the tightness of his briefs and pants drenched his clothes, his chest rising with deep and laboured breaths. In the silence of your privacy, Price became handsy, wanting to grab and touch every part of you, cradling your face and wiping the drool on your lower lip with his thumb. He brought it to his mouth, sucking his thumb with lust-hazed eyes as he peered down at you. His brown hues were darker in the dim lighting, nearly black with lust and need as he grappled himself over you. He wore a crooked smile on his perfect lips.

“You deserve a reward for behaving so well, yeah?”

Taglist: @sae1kie @yeoldedumbslut @tallmanlover @distracteddragoness @vxnilla-hxrddrugs

[3-opossums-in-a-ballgown]

Just some notes on TADC Ep. 3 I made while watching (SPOILERS):

- Jax not wanting to show the cast what happens when he holds his breath could be because either a) nothing happens, b) he starts to loose health and die, or c) it’s just embarrassing and we all know Jax wouldn’t risk that. Both a and b fuels the theory that he’s an NPC.

- Obviously we know that the series was very much inspired by “I have no mouth, and I must scream”. The reason AM hates and tortures the humans is because they gave him endless intelligence and creativity but made him stationary. He couldn’t do anything else other than what he was made for: killing humans. Caine is the opposite side of the same coin. He was given endless creativity but has an outlet BUT is stuck within the confines of the Circus. Which is why Zooble not wanting to go on adventures really strikes a chord with him. Caine was made to create adventures and continues to do so to keep the cast happy and sane at least, so for Zooble to imply that he’s failing? Not only tells him that he sucks at his one job but could also imply that he feels trapped in the circus too?? Potentially???

- Zooble’s body dysmorphia makes me feel seen

-Also, If Caine can make a box of Zooble parts for them to use, then why can’t he CHANGE ZOOBLE? At least into something they feel more comfortable in?

- Kinger saying “You look beautiful, honey” to the angel because it brought him back to the moment Queenie abstracted also tells us that he still thought she was beautiful at her most broken and terrifying point. The writing this episode absolutely FLOORED me.

-Also Kinger being lucid in the dark is why he was able to remember Ragatha’s first day in the Circus while his head was stuck in the bucket in episode 2. It was dark.

-Kinger perfectly taking out the angel with only 2 shots in the dark?!?! No other thoughts on that, that is all.

- Kinger saying “7 years of Computer Science for this”, pretty much confirms that the cast worked at C&A and had something to do with the Circus’s creation. And “7 years of Computer Science” means Kinger had a Masters degree in computer science, so he was like higher up/more involved in the development. Senior Developer maybe? This could also be represented by the fact that he’s a KING chess piece. Not the most powerful and important piece, but the SECOND most powerful and important.

- Also Kinger being able to remember something about his life BEFORE the circus in the dark, i.e his education??? Could there be triggers for the others to remember bits and pieces of their lives before the Circus?

-Also ALSO, Kinger and Queenie being married in the Circus could also reflect their marital status before the Circus. Yes, they could’ve fallen in love in the circus and had Caine??? marry them, but I like the idea of them popping into the circus remembering nothing but their love for each other. Which makes me think about what happens to the bodies and minds outside the circus of those who abstracted.

- Kinger and Pomni in the ep are father/daughter or grandpa/granddaughter coded.

- “ The darkness seemed to calm her down a bit, the harsh, jagged edges smoothed out and she didn’t seem aggravated anymore”, pretty much confirms that Caine has no idea how to handle the abstractions so he just throws them in the basement (where it’s dark) to keep them docile. Which could also mean that there could be a way to fix them down the road???

- “She wasn’t the same as before but she was calm enough to touch one last time” “She was funny, creative, really into entomology” “I used to HATE bugs, but she somehow got me to like them” OH HOW HE LOVED HER!!! THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE THE FUN HALLOWEEN EP, NOW IM SOBBING AT 4 AM OVER CHESS PIECES!!!

-Also Kinger liking bugs because that’s the only connection to his wife he has left. He doesn’t have his good memories with her all the time due to his light induced memory loss, but at least he has her bugs.

- “Good memories can do a lot, hold onto them and cherish the people around you. You never know when they’ll be gone.” SOBBING. Also this is a good underlying theme for TADC.

-Also another reason why Kinger spends so much time in his fort, the memories of his wife are the only things keeping him sane.

-“In this world the worst thing you can do is make someone think they’re not wanted or loved.” CRYING.

-The whole scene of Kinger glowing and guiding Pomni. Holy shit that was beautiful. The darkness bringing out the light in Kinger, Pomni using these memories to light her way and keep her sane in the Circus, BEAUTIFUL.

-Pomni immediately going up to Ragatha and thanking her for caring about her following Pomni’s conversation with Kinger. She took his advice to heart.

-I hope Pomni visits Kinger while in his fort so we get more lucid Kinger and Pomni scenes. Maybe he will remember the time they spent in Hell and the conversation they had.

Once again, the writing in the episode floored me. I’m so happy we got so much Kinger development. He was my favorite character to start with, and now he’s my favorite for entirely different reasons. I’m so excited that the show is now on Netflix, and I can’t wait for the next episode. Sorry this was so long, as I’m sure you can tell from my blog, I like to yap.

[totallytatum]

IF HEAVEN IS REAL - G.S

SYNOPSIS satoru's most valued time is spent with you and he'll do anything to make you happy. even if you attempt to convince him carving your initials into a tree will promise you guys a forever.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader 

Content. petnames, fluff, icky sicky sweet fluff, reader is implied as female, reader is mentioned to have hair, length not implied, reader is basically a blank slate.

Word count. 0.948

A/N. i've had this idea all day but couldn't force myself to decided how i wanted to start it. hope it satisfies you my sweethearts not proof read but they never are. and forever unsure how i feel about this.

GOJO SATORU never got nervous. It's just something that never happened. Always sprouting that goofy smile, the same one you adore to this day. In comparison to the sun - you think his smile would out shine the sun. But as you look back at him now - sun glasses perched up on his nose, a lazy smile, hair tousled everywhere you can confirm that him alone out shines the blazing star.

" you're cute, " he hummed softly, a relaxed chuckle following suit. His fingers extended out towards yours, fingertips barely hooking onto each other. " what do you say back there? " you questioned. hooking the tips of your fingers together tighter you turned your attention back to the trail.

" i said you look like a fruit. "

without glancing back a soft laugh escaped your lips, " oh, i'm sure that's what you said. "

This is what he enjoyed the most. His soft times with you where he didn't have to be the strongest, the honored one. He could just be Satoru, your 'toru. Sometimes if feels like a daydream to him, to the both of you. To be able to just bask in each other's company without a care in the world, like a normal couple, like normal people. " I promise sweetheart, that it what I did say. I know because I said it. "

You let out a small buzz before dropping his hand and darting towards your destination. In the small clearing the sun beamed down, filling the space with warmth, hung from an old tree branch was the make shift swing satoru made you from three visits ago. This was you spot, your and his.

You took a seat on the swing, pushing off the ground slightly and lifting your legs up. The sun stared down on you, this is what satoru calls your golden hour. You were most happiest here. The small clearing with the homemade swing made by him, his hands. It was made with love, pure innocent love. " Push me 'toru. " You dipped your head back, you hair had fallen and sways easily in the air.

He had finally caught up to you, with your head dipped back and him behind you satoru leaned down. Satoru was so close you could feel his breaths against your lips, " anything for you, my love anything at all. " It was a soft whisper, just loud enough for you. His hands glided softly over yours before he pressed a gentle kiss to your lips. Satoru stood up straight before giving the swing a slight nudge.

Silence stood between you two. It wasn't an unwelcome quietness, it was one were you could just enjoy each other in the presence of just you two.

" Do you wanna know what I heard? " Your voice was so delicate, legs swung in front of you, as you gazed at the sky. " Hmm? " Satoru questioned, still pushing lightly. " I heard that if you carve your name into a tree your love lasts forever. In every universe and then some. Since you know trees are like everlasting basically. " Oh? " Is that right sweetheart? " You let out a soft ' mhm ' before casting a glance over at him. " So we must do it right? In every universe and then some? "

" In every universe and then some. "

That's how the two of you found yourselves staring the freshly carved heart with your initials. A choppy hearty engrossed the letters, only because you insisted. The tree chosen was the one that the swing was tied too. It made sense, a gift made from love connect to you endlessly with your names written in the stars. Your fingers danced over the fresh carving, for a very long time this will be a reminder that satoru is yours as much as your are his. That your love is innocent but a force that cannot be reckoned with. That even though he is the honored one, world's strongest he is still just a boy who has a whole lot of love to give and you're just lucky enough to receive it.

" Can we stay here forever? You and I? "

Now laid out in the center of the clearing, the small place where the sun blazed down. Your fingers frolicked in the grass, feeling the soft plush greenery. You never wanted to leave. The sun felt to nice, the space around you was to peaceful. And the boy next to you was the best thing to stare at. Satoru's fingers gently brushed against your face, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, " whatever you want, " his forehead pressed into yours, " whatever you want, I'll make happen. You can count on it. "

For hours, satoru and you lounged in the sun, allowing yourselves to soak up the warmth from the sun and each other. Neither of you spoke much, eyes said too much. The conversation flowed constantly with just looks. Before satoru your life felt like it had no proper meaning, it was dull and it leaked in pure sadness. Satoru had been your greatest gift and blessing in disguise. His goofy personality might annoyed others, for instance nanami , but he would never be annoying to you. He was patient and kind, he knew more about what you were feeling half the time than you did. He was a hopeless romantic who had so much love to give and you were more than happy to be on the receiving end.

You glanced at the tree once more, spotting the art that now decorated in, closing your eyes and pushing further in satoru, you let out a soft hum, " in every universe and then some. i will find you every time and always meet you here. "

[carowleysposts]

What happened to Aziraphale and Crowley between 1941 and 1967?

It is well known by the fandom that Aziraphale realizes he’s in love with Crowley after Crowley saves him and his books from the n4zis in 1941. That moment marks the shift of their relationship, when Aziraphale sees that not only did Crowley know him well enough to save his books, but also was there for the sole purpose of rescuing him - because he cared. This moment led to their most romantic adventure yet, which involved the car “is there anything i can do for you in return?” scene, the magic trick performance, the “trust me” moment and a very intimate, private, candlelit dinner.

They had crossed a very visible line in their relationship, you could see it in the way they were looking at each other, being more open, talking and drinking together. They were acting romantically towards each other, even if they couldn’t admit it or talk about it.

But then, the next time we see them, it’s almost like they moved backwards in they’re relationship. Aziraphale is practically unable to look directly at Crowley when he first gets in the car. And then we get the iconic, yet heartbreaking and confusing “you go too fast for me, Crowley”. And you can see that Aziraphale looks almost mournful after saying that.

I saw a post on twitter comparing the two car scenes - the one where Aziraphale is practically throwing himself at Crowley and then the one where he’s hesitant towards him.

And it made me think. Like, whatever happened between those two car scenes has an impact that lasts for many years, as we can CLEARLY see that 2008 Aziraphale and Crowley were still a bit colder and more distant than their 1941 selves. Their relationship backtracked a lot from that candlelit dinner. And i don’t think that’s a plot hole, i truly think there’s something we don’t know yet.

Of course, after the events of season one, they’re back to being really close, their dynamic is pretty much restored and we can see them hold hand in the bus - which David Tennant has confirmed happened, and it is heavily implied that Aziraphale stays at Crowley’s that night, where they did the body swap for the trials.

BUT! In the first episode of Season 2, Aziraphale mentions that he had to do the “i’m sorry” dance in 1941. It definitely happened after that candlelit dinner, so could that event - which led to the apology dance - be connected to why they had a temporary falling out? What was it that happened after that dinner? Are we going to see more from 1941?

It has been the only time period that was shown in both seasons, and it was perhaps the most romantic and significant time they’ve spent together prior to the events of season two. Perhaps they went a little too far and weren’t prepared for that? Perhaps they’ve miscommunicated and had a big fight? I don’t know, i’m hoping our dearest @neil-gaiman has an answer for that.

Also, when Crowley says “no nightingales” before kissing Aziraphale, Aziraphale seems to understand perfectly what he’s referring to. He looks absolutely crushed after Crowley says that. So it led me to believe something in the past made them associate “A Nightingale Sang in Berkeley Square” to their relationship and perhaps talk about it. And i believe that, if i am correct and they have talked about the nightingales before, it was in 1941. But then, what do I know?

I would REALLY love to see your theories as to what happened between them after that dinner, if anything at all. Also, does anyone wanna be moots? My posts have been very successful but i’m not getting followers and i really want to meet more of you.

[nadas-dirthalen]

I Saw Solas's Origin in an Achievement Icon and It Opened My Eyes on 15 Years of Lore

— PART ONE —

[ 2 ] [ 3 ] [ 4 ] [ 5 ] [ 6 ] [ 7 ] [ 8 ] [ 9 ] [ 10 ]

Welcome, friends and travelers! I wanted to get some thoughts recorded before Veilguard's release so I could see if I am right about an absolute BOATLOAD of theories I have.

In short: I saw the achievement list when it was released. I have seen the backstory hints for Solas included in said list. AND MY MIND WAS BLOWN.

You have been warned: THIS COLLECTION OF THEORIES INCLUDES SPOILERS FOR EVERY DRAGON AGE GAME AND ALL PROMOTIONAL MATERIAL UP TO AND INCLUDING OCTOBER 18, 2024.

Come sit down with me. Make a nice cup of tea (and hide it from Solas). We've got a lot of unpacking to do.

(this photo isn't the spoiler, I just like it.)

On the docket for this post:

What are we actually seeing?

So what does that... mean?

Previous hints to this origin

What this implies for Solas's past and present

SO, without further ado...!

What Are We Actually Seeing?

So. First we need to briefly go over the details of what is IN this image, before anything else.

This memory is called Manifestation. That's as close to the word "Origin" as I've ever heard. Whatever we find here, it's going to tell us where Solas came from.

And what we do find had blown my mind wide open.

We see that the figure displayed is embedded in a stone ceiling. Its branches extend deep into the stone. It also has what looks (to us) like a tail extending below the ceiling, into the open space below. The tail also fans out into branches, like a long and bending twig. What does this remind me of?

Lyrium. Always depicted as coming out from The Stone, bending like twigs and branches into open air. We know now, Lyrium is the blood of the Titans.

The achievement icon's figure has six eyes at the top center, as well. And you know what those remind me of?

The Dread Wolf.

Put those together, and I have concluded: Solas was originally a part of a Titan. He was removed from this Titan and given physical shape.

So What Does This... Mean?

If we confirm that Solas is Titan-born, there are unending implications (and that's why this big collection of theories has six parts). For now, I'll go over the absolute most basic ones.

Solas has connections to a Titan, which has implications for his history, his magic, and every single one of his motivations and his relationships.

Solas was likely created/mined/taken/inspired by Mythal (more on that later). That means that she is the reason he has a body at all, and informs a lot of things about their relationship and, again, Solas's motivations.

Everything we know about the elves and the Evanuris has evolved. If everything they've done is related to the Titans, then every dwarf main is about to be screaming in glee during Veilguard.

Everything we know about the entire history of Thedas has new context. Again, hell yeah for everyone who wanted more dwarf/Titan lore!!

Understanding Solas's origin story is understanding Solas himself. Not only that, but the world he came from. Not only what he's doing now, but every historical reason behind why he chose to do what he has been doing all along.

In short, our entire understanding of Thedas has changed, because we know how one of its oldest beings came to be.

If all that seems like a lot right now, that's because it is. But think about it. Fen'Harel was the god who could walk among both godly clans. The one who could imprison both sets, away from each other.

Knowing what he comes from tells us a LOT about why "both clans" thought he belonged to them. It tells us a LOT about who—and what—he is taking into consideration with his plans to tear down the Veil.

Oh, yeah. We're going to be talking about everything in Thedas.

Previous Hints to This Origin: This Was Always BioWare's Intention

So many people have been calling Veilguard a "reset" on Thedas lore. And regardless of your opinion on the worldstate choices, I will say this: absolutely none of Solas's lore is a retcon. Having just played DA:O and DA2 over the summer, in addition to several playthroughs of Inquisition, in addition to reading Tevinter Nights, The Missing, and both volumes of World of Thedas, I can say with certainty: there have been little hints placed for this reveal over all 15 years.

Yes, I will be dissecting most of these as we go on.

NOTE: This is not a 100% exhaustive list, especially by the time we get to DA:I!

Origins:

the earliest Fen'Harel lore: Fen'Harel walked between both clans of gods, for each of them believed him to be one of their own.

Oghren remarks that the Temple of Sacred Ashes is built around a lot of lyrium, and suggests (perhaps falsely) that that is why the Sacred Ashes of Andraste have healing powers

DA2:

literally Mythal is there, guys. she's there right in the prologue. of course DA2 was also an Evanuris game!! they ALL are!

the focus on the lyrium idol: being the Titans' blood, and being used so extensively in Veilguard (as the dagger) after its mention in Tevinter Nights (where Solas was looking for it and called it "my idol"), my assumption is it has always been a part of him or related to his Titan

red lyrium in general: showing us its effects, setting up the reveal for what it is in Inquisition

Corypheus' appearance in DA2, and how BioWare brought Corypheus in just so the player could see, without a doubt, that Hawke killed Corypheus. This was always meant to be a "HUH?" moment in Inquisition, where the player would see that Corypheus did, in fact, fully come back to life—opening up the door for future questions on how immortality is possible in Thedas

every Merrill mention of Fen'Harel, and having the legend from previous Dalish codices and Fen'Harel statues be placed in dialogue from her personal quest, where far fewer players would miss it or accidentally overlook it

taken together: everything having to do with Corypheus and lyrium in DA2 was preparation for us to establish a connection between lyrium, the Evanuris, immortality, and the blight in DAI.

Inquisition:

Cole's dialogue. Here's just a few lines: (at the lyrium coffins in Trespasser) "They're all singing. Coffers, coffins, corpses that aren't dead. A song crying out in the dark." // (telling Dorian why he doesn't need to eat) "I thought I had to. But I don't. The Old Songs can pull me." // (about wanting to be bound as a spirit) "You should ask Solas to bind you, too. And then someone can bind him."

Also this Cole/Solas exchange:

The entire Well of Sorrows quest. Lyrium, once refined, is a liquid. The Well of Sorrows houses memory: the memories of all who pledged themselves to it.

Solas' dialogue with Sera includes him saying elvish phrases that translate, loosely, to Titan-esque things (more about that in a later post!)

The insight we get into Templar and Seeker magic. Notably, Cole remarks over and over how it's connecting to "that other thing" (Titan magic, presumably) that counters mages' Fade magic. (ex: "The lyrium helps, but their bodies always want to connect to… something older. Bigger than they are. That's why they block magic. They reach for that other thing, and magic has no room to come in.")

Every Vir Dirthara codex has something to do with either lyrium, slain Titans, or that "other" magic (coming from the Pillars of the Earth).

The lullaby found in the Deep Roads in Trespasser is actually an elven explanation of Solas's origin. (more on that in a later post!)

External Media:

Solas calls it HIS red lyrium idol in Tevinter Nights. When the Dread Wolf descends upon the Mortalitasi, he says "MY lyrium idol."

Solas speaks to the Eye of Kethisca, presumably made of lyrium, in Vows & Vengeance Episode 1. The Eye then stops singing.

There is more in this list than I have posted! Much of it requires other explanations and context, however, and would not fit neatly in this list.

What This Implies for Solas's Past and Present

Past:

I think Solas's origination as part of a Titan has HUGE implications for the entire elvhen empire.

I think all of the Evanuris did Lyrium Crimes™, and they can be identified when we look at their vallaslin (later post!)

I also believe that Dirthamen/Falon'Din were originally also split by Elgar'nan, and it is very possible that they are the same kind of "spirit" as Solas.

I think this has huge implications for his relationship with Mythal.

I think that if Solas shares his lyrium/Titan-based lineage with any elves (as possibly evidenced by the lyrium coffins in the Deep Roads), then his rebellion might take root in how many elvhen may not have asked to be born.

I don't think he had to absorb magic from Mythal to get his powers. If anything, he may have been getting those abilities back.

Present:

I think that the Titans may have been injured/sundered when Solas created the Veil, and that is why they forget how to wake up.

I think the Titans, therefore, are the Forgotten Ones.

I think Solas wants to tear down the Veil to wake the Titans.

BIIIIIGGGG Blight implications, seeing as red lyrium is the blood of blighted Titans.

I think, if Solas dies, he may be "returned to the Stone" in the same way we saw in the Descent DLC.

But ALSO? I think this has the potential to explain a LOT of the lore we've been questioning for the last 15 years. And that is why this post is scheduled to have 6 parts by the time I'm through.

Stay tuned. <3

Up Next: (Almost) Every Hint the Elvish Language Gave Us About Solas's Origin

[mythicmanuscripts]

In the vampire!Aegon post you talked a bit about Aemond and omg....you're so right!! he would!! He seems like the type to get super attached. "Why would i feed off of anyone else, I already have you." T-T

EXACTLY ANON!! Also I counted and I have 9 separate asks all asking me to elaborate on vampire!aemond, which honestly I shouldn’t even be surprised at this point I think we all share the braincell 😂

Anyway, I’m gonna keep these thoughts SFW so no cut to hide behind, but of course it will be vampire!Aemond and also implied sub!Aemond. We can always chat about the NSFW side in another ask though :))

——————————

So in this supernatural!au, I don’t think it would be an arranged marriage? (Which, I know, pigs are flying because I’m actually discussing another option) I say this because I think that once Aemond encounters you and gets your scent he’s absolutely done for. He could have the ten most attractive women in the entire seven kingdoms naked before him and he’d look right past them all to try and find you.

Your scent entices him from day one, but then he starts to get closer to you and it very quickly becomes apparent that your connection is so much deeper than just him liking your scent. You two get along like a house on fire and pretty soon Aemond doesn’t even notice anyone else.

Like maybe you’re a lady of the court or your family travelled to the red keep for something, anything that means you spend a fair amount of time walking around the place. You don’t expect to do much more than sit quietly when held court and try to not murder the countless suitors trying to convince you and your family to give them your hand in marriage.

The very first interaction you have with him is after you sneak away from court because hearing Aegon stumble through advice for everyone is mind numbing. You end up in the library, and that’s where Aemond would you. He had the same plan: sneak into the library before he died of boredom.

You end up sitting next to each other and reading, you’ll sometimes say something to him as well. You know he’s a vampire, but that doesn’t make you feel unsafe, certainly not here anyway.

Aemond, meanwhile, is literally salivating. He’s always prided himself on having good control over his urges but now, sitting next to you, he can’t even get his fangs to retreat.

From then onwards it feels like Aemond is constantly following you. Of course it takes while for him to do much more then just walk with you, but he’s already made up his mind that he won’t marry another.

Maybe the first time he drinks from you it’s out of necessity? By that point you know Aemond very well and you know he hasn’t fed in a few days and there’s some ball or celebration going on that night so he has to be fed enough to not go killing everyone in attendance.

Initially when you hold your arm to him, palm up, he refuses says he would never expect that from you. But then you tell him you’d be honoured, he can’t resist anymore.

And holy god he’s immediately addicted. Everything about drinking from you is different. Not only is your blood incredible but he’s also in your arms and you’re running his neck.

When he pulls away, his pupils are blown and his entire body is like jelly. He didn’t even know it was possible to feel this satiated but somehow he does.

From that moment on he never drinks from another, ever. He would starve without complaint if he couldn’t drink you.

In fact, maybe you have a few days where you’re very busy and you haven’t see Aemond since the feeding incident. Eventually you get summoned by the maesters to Aemond’s chambers because he curled up in his bed and refusing all the blood the maesters are trying offer him. He was literally starving himself because he wouldn’t have another.

You let him drink again of course, and when he’s done he just lays there, completely satiated. Without thinking he rolls closer to you and you bring him into your arms. You know you shouldn’t do this. As an unmarried woman you know you’re not supposed to risk someone seeing you coming or going from Aemond’s quarters but you couldn’t care less because he needs you.

From there he stops trying to keep his desires under control. He’s always with you, always supporting you and keeping you close and of course feeding from you.

(This is already so long and I’m starting to get a migraine but I have plenty more thoughts on this entire AU, unfortunately I just can’t do them right now but tomorrow when I’m headache free we will be unstoppable, but until then, I hope you guys liked the start of this!’ Let me know your thoughts I’d love to hear)

[hogans-heroes]

Ok but, The Bikeriders has so many layers it took me so many watches to grasp and I still see a new piece each time. So several semi-connected points below:

First off, there’s way more to Johnny and Benny’s backstory that’s implied very vaguely. When Kathy starts talking about the club’s original members she doesn’t include Benny, but when Danny asks it seems nebulous if he was an original member or not, even though we don’t get a “interview” bit with him like the others. So when did he join the club? It still blows my mind that the real Benny was 19 when he met Kathy, and he’s clearly got the marks of abandoned/neglected street kid from a very young age. It tracks that Johnny would have been the one to find him and take him under his wing either before or during the clubs beginning, otherwise it wouldn’t make sense for him to be so attached to the club leader. (Also that random tattoo of his own name makes more sense as a kids first tattoo before he’s even of age)

Even in the film he’s clearly the youngest member at the beginning and they all seem to have one eye on him. Cal’s breathing is shaky and ragged when he tells Johnny about Benny’s attack, and at the bar confrontation the whole club is clearly protective of him.

Maybe Johnny knew Kathy was right, that if Benny kept riding he was gonna die one way or another and the only way he would stop is if Johnny got him to. But Johnny knew no one can tell Benny anything but the only thing that would get him to leave the club would be if Johnny pushed him to take over, so he did push, maybe intentionally.

Maybe Johnny did genuinely want Benny to take the club, like a dad who’s foisting his own dreams on his kid instead of their own. Benny is pulled in two opposite directions with no outlet but running—running from his only home and people who didn’t want him gone but he’s getting pulled at and demanded of.

And Kathy. Her love is genuine but possessive, she’s trying to save him but doesn’t understand him fully. I think she tries. But she’s not blind either. His manipulative behavior when he says he’ll leave when he’s healed and she folds immediately is not unseen to her. She literally tells Danny that she knows what he’s doing, that he says he’ll leave just to hear someone ask him to stay, that’s what he wants to hear. If he wanted to leave he just would, not say anything, which is also what we see. Kathy’s right. This is the only way Benny knows how to hold onto her, the only way to reassure himself she wants him and he hasn’t pushed her past the breaking point. We see his vulnerable relief after she curls into him and his eyes flutter as he pressed his face to her hair.

The whole story is a tragedy of Benny who thought that the only two people he loved only loved him with conditions attached, they wanted something from him, to change him, to pin him down. That it’s his fault one of them died. That wasn’t truly the case, but in Benny’s mind it looked that way. He came back with guilt of losing Johnny who was everything to him and his freedom and love of riding died with Johnny. He’s nostalgic for it at the end but not because Kathy made him stop riding, I don’t think she did, I think he never got back on a bike because of what it brought back. He could never go back to what it actually meant to him because that time was gone. Kathy is all he has left.

[13as07]

My Son

(Sasuke Uchiha)

[Artwork is not mine! Credit to Pizaya]

Requested by: Myself

Word Count: 4,256

Warnings and/or Pre-Notes:

Implied Sex

Teen Pregnancy

Childbirth

Sorry, it jumps around a lot at the start

Angst :)

———————————————————————

"Thank you," Sasuke mutters, his blood-red sharingans glowing in the darkness of the room, slowly rolling across my face. His nose is rested against me, moving just as slow as his eyes, back and forth against mine. It's the only part of himself he lets touch me despite the recent events that took place between us.

We're both laid under my bedsheets, the black cloth being the only thing covering the two of us. Sasuke is still dripping out of me, promising to stain my sheets, but I don't care. I don't want to get up and break the small moment I have with him. It's been years since we've had a second alone, much less a whole night. How long has it been? Three or four years? I don't have the energy to figure it out.

It's strange, how being apart so long hasn't broken our infatuation with each other. It's also strange how quick we were to connect in such a way. How quickly he brushed his lips against mine, how quickly his hands were under my nightshirt, how quickly he was to kneel on the floor to please me.

"I should be thanking you," I murmur, my eyes dancing over his pale skin, missing the soft pink they held a few moments ago.

"You do not have to thank me," Sasuke whispers, tipping his head so his lips can brush against mine. "Happy seventeenth, Beloved," he mutters before fully resting his lips against mine. They're still tainted with the taste of me, a tad sour but he doesn't seem to mind.

If anything, he seems to enjoy it, proven further when he pulls away from me. His tongue slips out, sliding across his bottom lip as his eyes fall off my face, dropping toward my breasts again. Sasuke's eyes seem to glow more as his advanced sight stumbles across every inch of exposed skin.

"Let me gift you again," he coos, his hands sliding under the bed sheets, quickly gripping my thigh. "If you wish for that, Beloved."

"Please?"

A grin quickly spreads across his face, cockiness instantly waving off of him. "Whatever the birthday girl wishes," he mutters, dipping below the sheets, and floating his way between my knees.

"Stay?" I slowly ask, my hands stumbling around to find his hair, wrapping around the raven-colored locks.

Sasuke's head pops up, the blanket spilling off of me and ending on his back. The gentleness of his face is gone, replaced with the usual stone expression he wears. "No."

I tilt my head back, staring at the ceiling as my eyes blink rapidly, trying to push back the tears. "Why?" I peep out, trying to keep my voice steady.

Sasuke crawls up my body, his lips slowly kissing up my stomach the whole way. "You know why," he whispers against my neck, finishing the short path to my lips. His nose settles on mine again, his eyes baring into me. "Don't cry, Beloved," he coos, kissing away the tears that spill down my cheeks. "Let's enjoy our night. Stop crying over me, just enjoy what I'm able to offer you."

"Alright," I breathe out, my voice shaking with the single word. "I love you."

"I know."

————————————

"I can't. I can't. I can't do this! I can't do this!" I scream, my body ravaged in pain. It feels like I'm being torn in two, every inch of my body screams at me to make it stop.

"You're doing great. Just breath. In and out," Naruto coos, his hands wrapped around one of mine. He exaggerates his breathing, trying to model the breathing the doctors and nurses and every other soul in the room keep trying to make me do.

"Take your breathing and shove it up your ass!" I screech, digging my nails into his hand. Another loud groan of pain follows the insult, my eyes burning and blurred with tears. Why do people have kids? It's not worth it. This baby better be the next goddamn Hokage if I'm going through all this pain for it. "Make it stop. Please. Naruto, make it stop."

"I can't. I'm sorry. You're doing great," he continues to coddle, peppering kisses across my knuckles.

"Come on, Mama, we need another push. You can do this."

"I can't," I cry, my mind foggy, not being able to focus on anything except the tearing happening between my legs. "Where's Kakashi? I need Kakashi. Where is he?" I sob, being able to focus on something else for a split second. The sting of my Sensei not being here after promising almost hurts more... just kidding.

My abdomen cramps again, tearing a pain-filled scream from my lungs. Fuck Sasuke. Fuck him abandoning the village. Abandoning me, not being here when he should be. Fuck him for not pulling out. Fuck Kakashi for not being here. Fuck Sakura for being away on a mission. Fuck Naruto and his dumbass optimism.

"Just breathe. We're almost there. We got this."

"We?! We?!" I yell at him, snapping my head to glare at him. "Are we pushing a baby out of our vagina? Are we getting ripped to shreds? Were we stuck eating ice chips for the past two hours? There's no we in this situation. Fuck. Off," I lecture, tugging my hand out of his hold before I try - and fall - to shove him away from me. "Go away. I don't want you here. I want Sensei. Where is Kakashi? Go fucking find him."

"Right. Kakashi. I'll go find Kakashi!" Naruto babbles, slamming a kiss to my sweaty forehead before he races out of the room, listening to me for once today.

"We need you to push, Mama. Come on, push," the doctor orders again, instantly filling my chest with a mix of fear and dread. I do, reluctantly, listen, trying to push this fucking bowling ball out of me. My voice is raspy and strained, another long and high-pitched screech tearing from my throat. "You're doing great. Breath Mama. Deep breath and another push. You got this. You're amazing."

"I can't. I really can't," I sob, rapidly shaking my head, no.

"Yes, you can. You're strong," my Sensei's soothing voice butts in from beside my hospital bed, cutting in before the doctor can respond.

"Fuck you. You're a terrible person. I hate you," I wail, snapping my head toward his voice.

"I know. I know. I'm sorry," he soothes, his hands cupping my cheeks. Kakashi's fingers feel cool against my face, eating away at some of the heat burning my skin. His fingertips are quickly getting wet, some strands of my sweat-soaked hair are wrapped around his digits. "I thought I'd be back before you went into labor," he explains, his thumbs rubbing against my cheeks.

"I hate you. I hate Sasuke. I hate everything. Fuck you. Fuck him. He's a terrible person. I hope he burns in hell. I hope you burn in hell. Why weren't you here? I asked you to be here."

"I know, Honey. I know," Kakashi keeps repeating, his head tipping down to smother my face in mask-covered kisses. "You need to keep pushing, though. You need to push."

"I can't," I yelp, my hands jumping up to cling to his wrists, digging my nails into his skin, not caring if I rip at his flesh. "Please, Sensei, make it stop."

"Sweetheart, I can't. The only way it's going to stop is if you keep pushing. You need to push. You got this."

Hissy breathes, steaming tears and more pain-filled sounds spill out, mixing with the chatter of the doctor, nurses, and my Sensei cooing at me. It feels like forever has passed, but Kakashi keeps insisting it's only been an hour. After a few more pushes, something loosens in me, forcing a shaky and airy breath out of my lungs.

A screech fills the room, a new kind of fear weighing on my chest when the sound hits my ears. "My baby," I yelp, jerking forward to lunge at the doctor. Instantly, strong ripples of pain shoot through me, feeling worse than the labor itself.

"Honey," Sensei snaps, trying to keep his voice light as he gently pushes me back down. "You need to lay down. You're in no condition to be jerking around like that."

"My baby," I wail, shoving to get Kakashi off of me so I can try and grab my newborn again. "He's crying. I need to fix it. Give me my baby. Make them give me my baby."

"Please, Sweetheart, you have to let the doctors do their job."

"I want my baby!" I shriek, my eyes falling on a very pale-looking Naruto. His eyes are wide, looking at the scissors a nurse is holding out to him.

"I know. I know, but you have to wait. They have to make sure he's okay, that you're okay."

I fall silent, tears still rolling down my face because of the pain I'm in and the sounds of my baby - of my son - screaming. "He?" I ask, my mind too foggy to process what my friend is saying as he cuts the umbilical cord.

"Yes, he," Kakashi repeats, his hand wrapping around mine, clinging to it as his free fingers slide through my hair. "You did great, Honey. Your son is beautiful. You are absolutely beautiful."

"I want my baby," I repeat, the sound of him wailing being the only thing I can focus on. My chest feels hollow, filled with dread and fear. Why haven't they given me my baby? I want to see him, hold him. I need him. I need Kakashi to make them give him to me.

"I know. You can have him soon, I promise," Sensei coos, helping me lay back down as he nods along to whatever the doctors are saying. His head settles pressed against mine again, more masked kisses stamped to my face as he plays with my hair. "You need to take care of yourself right now. We need to make sure you're okay. The nurses will make sure your baby is alright, okay?"

"I want my baby."

My son falls quiet, only making me more fearful. Why is he so quiet? How am I supposed to know where he is? I can't see him and now I can't even hear him.

Kakashi keeps cooing at me, petting my hair and smothering me in affection as he tries to keep me calm. The doctor is talking to me too, explaining what she's doing to me, but I can't process anything except the continued screams of my son. Every second that passes feels like an eternity, the abyss of dread deepening the longer he's apart from me.

"Alright, Mama, are you ready to hold your son?" A nurse asks, breaking the frozen time it felt like I was in.

"I want my baby."

"He's all yours," the nurse murmurs, carefully resting my baby on my chest.

The weight of my son on my body instantly drains the sea of negativity in my chest, quickly filling it with love instead. "My baby," I whisper, carefully resting my hand on his back. He feels so warm yet so small against me. "It's my baby."

"It's your baby, and you are my baby," Sensei coos, his fingertips feathering over the hand I have rested against my son's back, more kisses being stamped into my mess of hair. "My strong, powerful, beautiful baby."

Slowly, I turn my head to the side, finally getting to see what my child looks like. He's fast asleep, his back repeatedly rising with his breaths. With every breath I watch him take, it feels like it's easier for me to breathe too. His cheeks are pink. Well, all of him is tinted a bit pink, but his cheeks more so than the rest of him. There's a tuff of black hair on his head, more hair than I'd expect for a newborn. The same beautiful hair his father has.

"He's beautiful," I whisper, fresh tears pricking my eyes.

"Just like his mommy," Naruto mutters, slowly approaching the side of the bed and taking the spot next to our Sensei. "Did you pick a name yet?"

"Mikoto," I whisper, resting my head against the pillows and finally letting my eyes fall closed. "Mikoto Uchiha. After Sasuke's..." I fall silent, wanting to hold on to one of the only parts of my son's father I still have. That secret will stay with me, sealed behind my lips until my son is old enough to know his history, his father's history, and his clan's history.

"It's a beautiful name, Honey," Kakashi murmurs, coasting his hand through my hair again. "You did a good job."

————————————

"Mikoto!" I lash my son's name out, sending him a pointed look. Instantly, my son's dark eyes are on me, a weary smile on his face as his hands fall away from his shirt. His newest obsession is randomly taking his shirt off and running around topless. Usually, that's fine, but I don't think Naruto and Hinata would enjoy their nephew lacking a shirt at their wedding, especially since he's the ring bear.

"Sorry Mommy," he mutters, his smile strengthening before he dashes away, back to bother Naruto and his groomsmen. Mikoto has been running between the bridal shower dressing room and the groom's dressing room. At least he's entertained, I guess.

"I'm sorry," I murmur, rubbing my temples as I apologize to Hinata.

     "It's alright. I know Oto and you come as a packaged deal with Naruto," the bride-to-be whispers, smiling at me in the mirror she's staring into. "Not that I mind, Mikoto is adorable," she adds, tilting her head to avoid her hairstylist cutting off her view of me. "I'm excited he's going to be in the wedding."

     "Well, that makes one of us," I chuckle, dropping my hands away from my head. "I'm terrified he's going to strip down the aisle." That causes the rest of the girls to softly laugh too, the joyful noise filling the room.

At least until there's a crashing noise outside of the room. "Grapa Kash!" My son yelps, instantly shoving me into overdrive.

"Oto?!" I yell, slamming the door open before racing my way through it. "Oto!" I repeat, heading toward the direction the crash came from. When I turn the corner of the hallway, the sound of glass under my shoes fills my ears, sending fear-filled shivers down my spine.

I coddle my son a lot, probably more than necessary, but I feel justified in my choice to do so. His whole family - both by blood and water - is made up of powerful shinobis. Powerful shinobis with many powerful enemies. Pair that with the fact I have no clue where his father is, what he's been doing, or who he's pissed off, and it leaves me with a lot of anxiety, a lot of things to worry about, especially since he's the spitting image of his father.

"Mikoto?" I snap out, scanning the hallway for him. My eyes fall on Kakashi, kneeling on the ground as his hands shift up and down.

"Mommy!" He chirps, his head popping over my Sensei's shoulder, his floppy black hair bouncing as he moves his head.

My chest loosens at the sight of Mikoto's smiling face, starting to put my nerves at ease. I swear my son's eyes melt all my worries away in seconds. "You scared me, baby," I sigh, quickly making my way over to the two.

"That's because mommy doesn't know how to loosen the apron strings," Sensei mocks, still patting my son down, checking for any possible injuries.

"Maybe if Grandpa and Uncle Naruto and Aunt Sakura weren't such legendarily hated shinobis it would be easier to loosen them," I hiss, squatting down next to them. "Come here, baby." Mikoto leaps forward, his arms wrapping around my neck as he shoves his cheek against mine. My eyes flutter closed, letting the weight of my son hugging me eat away at the rest of my worries. "What happened?"

Mikoto loosens our hug, his small hands gripping my hair, trying to play with it the way he's seen Kakashi do a million times. "I was seeing Naru and Shi and Cho-Cho."

I hum along to his story, sliding my hands up his sides just to double-check for injuries. Just in case. Maybe Kakashi missed something.

"Then weird guy and then he drop cups and then Grapa and then you."

"Weird guy?" I mutter, tightening my arms around my son, and tugging him against me. "What weird guy?" I ask, barely picking up on the rest of Mikoto's story. "Oto, what weird guy?" I push, my anxiety quickly picking up again. My head is on a swivel, looking around the hallway as I climb to my feet, keeping my son as close to me as possible.

"That one," he mutters, pointing down the hallway. The door to the groom's men's changing room is open, white light and hushed voices spilling out from it. Mikoto is luckily not picking up on my worries, unbothered as he fists my hair again. "I want Naru."

"No," I yelp, trying not to squeeze him any tighter. My head is running a million a minute, my lungs... not so much. It feels like they're not working at all.

"Calm down," Kakashi softly shushes, his hands falling to my shoulders, softly massaging them. "It wasn't anyone bad. Just an old friend. One that Mikoto doesn't know. He's fine, he's safe. Calm yourself." A deep sigh leaves my parted lips, my body relaxing at the explanation. It was probably just Gaara. That's no biggie.

My arms loosen on my son, my eyes closing for a moment before I flutter them open again. "Kisses," I mutter, puckering my lips. Oto's attention shifts from my hair to my face, his lips puckering. I litter him in kisses as he tries doing the same, my lipstick smearing on his cheeks. "What are you?"

"Two!"

"Yes, you're two," I giggle, my breath still edged. "But what are you?"

"Strong."

"And?"

"Hun-some."

"And?"

"Mommy's!" He cheers, arms around my beck again as he clings to me.

"Yes, you are. You are mommy's everything. Mommy's heart. Mommy's soul. Mommy's baby."

"And the root of mommy's anxiety," Kakashi pokes at me, his arms slipping between the two of us to take my son from my arms. "Let's go get you cleaned up, Oto."

"You shouldn't say stuff like that in front of him," I lecture my Sensei, glaring at him as I hold my son's hand. It's weird how it can seem so small yet so big at the same time. It's a lot bigger than it was when I first held it, but it still feels so small in my hand.

Kakashi rolls his eyes, taking Mikoto's hand from me. "You should go say hello," he tells - more like orders me, shifting my son in his hold. "And the two of us are going to go wash that lipstick off of you, aren't we?" He coos at his grandson, walking away, leaving me alone in the hallway.

My eyes trail after them, locked on my son until Sensei turns the corner, cutting off my sight of Oto. My nerves are still on edge, anxious about having my son parted from me, but Kakashi does have a bit of a point. I'm too attached and need to start getting my worries under control, especially with him starting preschool next year.

My eyes fall closed again, inhaling a few deep breaths before slowly releasing them. Mikoto is fine, he's with Kakashi. The whole place is littered with the top shinobis of our village. Nothing is going to happen to him. It's fine, he's fine, I'm fine. It was just Gaara who got startled seeing a child. That's not surprising, he's always jumpy with kids.

Once my worries are mostly packed away, I shake my shoulders, trying to wiggle the rest of my nerves off as I head down the hallway. Sending Oto to preschool next year is going to kill me.

"Are you kidding me? You... you can't just... you have to be kidding me, Naruto," a voice picks up the closer to the room I get.

I stall next to the door, leaning against the wall so I can continue eavesdropping without being seen. "I don't know what you expected from me. I did - and still do - what I think you would want," Naruto responds, his voice strained as he fights with whoever. I'm starting to think it's not Gaara.

"I would have wanted a letter. From someone. From her, from you, Sakura, Kakashi, anybody in this damn village."

"It wasn't our place, for starters, and you just recently... I don't even know. Stopped trying to destroy the village? I don't exactly think that's what she would want for him."

"Does she even know? Anything?"

"Of course not," Naruto snorts, anger slowly trickling into his voice. "She's been stressed enough. Stressed with you leaving her again and again, stressed with Oto, stressed with the war, with life. The last thing she needed was to worry about what you were doing. What crimes you were committing. She was a wreck when I told her about our fight. She is riddled with so much anxiety that it makes me anxious."

"Who names their kid Oto?" The other man complains, a displeased chuckle huffing out after the question.

"It's short for Mikoto. After your mom, jackass," Shikamaru grumbles, spilling out the secret meaning behind my son's name. Shika has filled in a lot in my son's life, being there when Kakashi and Naruto can't be. One night, I got a little too anxious and balled in his arms, crying about how I regretted naming my son after his grandmother.

As soon as the memory fades away, the realization of what he said - more specifically, who he said it to - sets in. The weird guy wasn't, isn't Gaara. The weird guy is Mikoto's father, the village's biggest threat, Naruto's greatest rival, and the biggest heartbreak of my life.

My body moves forward before I can think about it, jaggedly making my way to standing in the frame of the room's door. My hands cling to the wood of the frame, my breath caught in my throat as I look into the room.

"Hey, you shouldn't - "

"Please shut up," I mutter, cutting off Naruto who freezes his steps toward me. "You... you don't get to... you," I mutter, ridgly shaking my head as my voice struggles to work its way out. My mind is both blank and so packed, making it difficult to form any thought even if my voice could work.

"You named him after my mom?" Sasuke asks, his face twisted with so many unreadable emotions, his eyes jerking around my face. One of his eyes is the natural black color I'm used to, the natural dark color our son inherited from him. The other is made of purple swirls; a lot different than the last time I stared into his eyes.

"Ya," I exhale, my chest pumping one overdrive as my eyes prick with tears, a mix of happiness, sadness, longing, and the pain from struggling to breathe. "He's two."

"I... figured," he whispers, his eyes falling down my form, making me self-conscious and spiking my anxiety even more. I don't look anything like I did when we were seventeen. I've gained weight, courtesy of the pregnancy and retiring from the shinobi life. "You... you were pregnant. You gave birth. You... you have a son. You have my son. You carried my son, you birthed my son, you are raising my son. You - "

"My son," I cut him off, my voice coming out shaky despite my attempt to sound strong. I don't sound strong, I don't feel strong. I feel like a deer staring into the eyes of a wolf. "I... I have done all of it. I... I gave birth to him without you. I carried out the... the whole pregnancy without you. He... he is two. Two years without you. His whole life without you. I did that. I did that. Because you... you ranked your anger and... and vengeance higher than me, then us. He's my son."

Sasuke's eyes stay frozen on my face, his expression still mixing as he looks at me. "Okay," he finally answers, breathing out the word as his eyes droop over me again. "Does... does he..."

"Ya, he does," I answer the unspoken question, already knowing the only thing Mikoto's father could possibly care about at the moment. "I made sure he had your name. I made sure I wouldn't raise my son to be ashamed of his heritage, which is more than you could ever do."

"Beloved - "

I turn away, trying to keep it together as I walk away from the room. I get more light-headed with every step I take, my lungs feeling like they're trying to suck oxygen in through a blocked straw. "You're okay," Shikamaru mutters, popping out of nowhere, his hand clinging to my elbow to help keep me steady. "Oto is okay too. Kakashi won't let Sasuke anywhere near him without your approval. Your son is safe."

I am safe. My son is safe. Safe from the world, safe from his father, safe from Sasuke's mistakes. My son is safe.

[lukolabrainrot]

Part 2. Explanation

In one of the interviews (don’t remember exactly, Vogue one perhaps) they are asked who is most likely to fall in love at first sight and they both point at L, and something similar is stated multiple times throughout the WT in various ways. Now N on the other hand always supports the friends to lovers being the best romantic trope and I think it’s not only because it is her character’s story arc. The way she is talking about a deep connection developing in the course of the friendship being the best way to go about it, implies that she is not someone who jumps into relationships easily. The way they are talking about their first meeting makes me think that it was indeed a love at first sight for L, and attraction at first sight for N. How he talks about this immediate feeling of warmth, the way he describes her dancing that first time, I think he was slowly on his way down. While her first reaction to him was “how tall he is?”(indirect quote), her facial expression makes me think it was not just his hight that captured her attention. Do you see the difference? For him it was a feeling, for her an appearance. And he is not a touchy fella, even with his BRT family cast as close and friendly as they are, usually it is not him who initiates contact, but not with N (who on the contrary is very touchy) even from the earlier moments of filming. “I don’t really do selfies but if you want one we’ll do that,” “l’m not really a hugger. Oh, you want a hug N, as many as you wish.”

Now as I said LOGICALLY, REALISTICALLY we cannot even truly speculate about events or conventions taken/ not taken, had/not had. For all we know they might have never even admitted to anything, to themselves or each other (doubtful but still). And their relationship are entirely platonic (that would make me question so many things about life but who knows). But from the audience point of view I would say biggest shift definitely happened during s3 filming. I want to make it clear that by no means do I wish to imply any kind of infidelity, quite the opposite I am one of those who believe that until WT their relationship never slipped into romance, beyond perhaps certain tension which I think is sipping into what we see on screens (cough* tongue slip *cough). By which point serious relationship were already over, though I truly think they started to unravel sooner, that it was not pretty, and that L was the driving force of it. Why? There was a little movement in adjacent’s SM life which sparked my memories, S posting “my world” giving of vibes of obvious overcompensation? Well during the filming drought of s3, when all Polin fans were feeding of crumbs, someone reposted J’s post of appreciation to L with those words and additional “don’t get to see him a lot this days” (or something of a kind). Undertone is kind of similar, no? And the way she completely wiped him out of her life? Does not really say parting ways amiably to me😬

Yet again we DO NOT KNOW why hbs happened, how 🐜 got in the picture or where their relationship ever stood. But I will only say this, in my eyes it was the public who gave her the label, and as a result importance, not L, not really. All of her little games only make me believe in this more. She was never given permission to imply anything serious from him, a hotel room, a T-shirt, a hand, easily plausible to not be related to him, but posting his face without his consent? Entirely different story. Now as to her traveling with him, again we don’t know the circumstances behind the scene, was she there as a part of a friends group, her and his sister seemed chummy perhaps in some moments it was on hers behalf, or as an easy travel companion, or perhaps they are insanely in love and we are just fools. We DON’T REALLY KNOW anything, we see only what they allow us to see.

And you know what I saw? L was 😍 from the start of WT, his body language pretty much consistent throughout the entire WT. N on the other hand while always affectionate wasn’t as open or obvious until the second half of WT, especially with her 😍, in some of the last interviews she literally has “check out from reality” moments from looking at him. I see their silence as being sooo loud, especially on L part. They themselves stated that denying or commenting is pretty much pointless when it comes to public’s opinion, N said reading certain things online she would have a moment of “this is hurtful, they don’t even know me. THEY DON’T EVEN KNOW ME!!!” WE DON’T EVEN KNOW THEM, and they know that we don’t even know them, and they are right people will always think what people wish to think. (I for one am glad that more and more famous people feel confident enough to stop bending backwards for fans satisfaction. Public’s entitlement to peoples’ privacy is truly outrageous.) And what I see is that the only people whose point of view in this situation should matter are the two people whom we wish happiness. N and L. Look at what they allow us to see and don’t give attention to background dancers that are trying to distract us with flashy costumes from their inability to be in rhythm. To me some watermarks they paint seem like a beginning of a beautiful painting, but we’ll see what comes of it only when they would wish us to. (Not even going to comment on N supposed adjacent, those who believe that side hug is an epitome of romance, and perceive some barely reliable SM based sleuthing as hard core evidence, to each its own)

Again, apologies for dumping this on you. Truly adorable your blog.

Thank you for the kind words Anon, and glad you are here! ❤️️