#a greater understanding of your fellow human

[rhettlevin]

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EDIT: I am told the bundle doesn't work in Canada (and maybe other regions? Only Canada’s been namedropped), which I think is cruel and unusual punishment. Sorry for the dashed hopes.

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 13: Make A Wish

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering.Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst.

Word Count: 7307 words. (long boi)

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

You were running out of time, less than two weeks to accomplish the task Sukuna had given you and you still doubted if you could do it. You sat up in bed as you watched the sunlight stream through the window, heralding the arrival of a new day, jumped out of bed to get to the dresser, opened the top drawer, and there it was. A small glass jar containing the favor you had asked Kenjaku for on the day of the harvest. You carefully examined the whitish mushrooms with brown caps. 

Amanita phalloides, the most deadly mushroom for humans. From what you had read in one of the giant encyclopedias in the library, it has caused the death of numerous people by being very similar to some mushrooms that are edible. The toxins in this mushroom act on the liver and kidneys, resulting in liver failure. You could serve it to your victim in a mushroom omelet and the poisonous mushroom would take care of the rest. All you had to do was the hardest part, pick a victim. 

It had to be a human, so Kenjaku and the rest of the curses didn't enter into the equation. Not being strong enough, it couldn't be someone with a cursed technique. That's how you ruled out Uraume and Yorozu. Whichever way you looked at it, your target had to be a servant. You couldn't kill Mrs. Inoue, you saw her as if she was your tender grandmother who worries that you eat well so that you grow up a lot. You could never betray her friendship for the sake of the king. 

“What do I do?” you asked yourself anxiously, putting the jar back in its place. 

You entered the dining room promptly as you did every morning for breakfast. You wished the servants good morning along with a smile. Now, it was harder for you to choose who to kill, as they had all been so kind to you over the past few weeks. They greeted you, chatted with you about their lives outside the castle, and looked out for you. The vast majority of servants saw you as just another fellow servant who was there because of a terrible fate, rather than a figure to be feared. You felt like a hypocrite greeting them when inside you knew the terrible fate you had planned for an unfortunate man. As soon as they knew you killed one of them, you could not restore their trust in you. You approached your designated place and were surprised to see that Mrs. Inoue was the one in charge of your chair. 

“Happy birthday, Miss,” she congratulated you with a smile.

“Oh, you remembered! Thank you!” You said before hugging her gently. 

You had spent so much time worrying about studying, taking care of your sister and choosing who you were going to kill that you had forgotten your own birthday. The days passed quickly between your responsibilities. Wake up, study, train, sleep, repeat. A vicious cycle filled with anxiety, insecurity and effort. Life at the castle really was complicated, but there were good parts. It was nice to know that someone cared enough to remember this special date.

Sukuna arched his brow at how tightly you hugged the lady. He didn't understand why they were making a fuss about the anniversary of your arrival in this horrible world. He doesn't remember how he came to this world. His earliest recollection was opening his eyes and being thirsty for human blood. From the moment he stepped onto this existential plane, he knew he had a greater purpose than being a mere man-eating curse. Birthdays don't matter when greatness is waiting. 

“Today is your birthday?” Sukuna asked you curiously as soon as you sat down at the table. You nodded excitedly. “Why didn't you tell me? If your birthday was so important, why didn't you let him know?”

“You never asked,” you replied. “Touche” he thought before taking his glass of wine. “Yorozu hasn't shown up yet?” You asked him while examining the room.

For the past month, Yorozu has not left his master's side even for a moment. She accompanied him when he did paperwork in his office, they trained together until sunset and followed him everywhere like a puppy obedient to its mother. So much so that the servants began to call her: “the dirt on the king's fingernail” or, as her friends call her, “the dirt”. It was rare that she was not present as soon as you entered the room. 

Sukuna was about to answer when a shrill voice started singing happy birthday. Yorozu kicked open the kitchen door to reveal the surprise she had planned for you. Your sister was singing at the top of her lungs, while Uraume held a small strawberry and cream cake with some lit candles. They didn't seem too happy about being part of the plan. 

“Happy birthday, dear sister!” She sang off-key. 

This brought back memories. Yorozu did the same thing every year. She would bake you a cake or something sweet from whatever was in the cabin cupboards, light a couple of candles and parade around the room you shared at 5 a.m. while crowing like a rooster. Your mother and sisters would yell at her to shut up while throwing pillows at her, but she never stopped crowing. It was annoying, but something about it seemed tender. Yorozu always wanted to make sure she was the first to wish you a happy birthday. 

“Did you bake it?” You asked Uraume when they placed the cake in front of you. 

“Only because your sister asked me to,” Uraume answered reluctantly. 

The strawberry and cream cake was a masterpiece of pastry making. Each fluffy layer of sponge cake bathed in a soft syrup that gave off a sweet and delicate aroma. The freckled fruits, fresh and juicy, rested elegantly on top of the cream. Its vibrant red color stood out against the white background and the silver platter in which it was served. At the top, perched the largest strawberry you had ever seen in your life. It made your mouth water just looking at it. Your sister knew you so well.

“Thank you, Uraume,” you said as you admired the delicious dessert in front of you. 

“Make a wish,” Yorozu excitedly proposed as she sat down next to you.

What did you really wish for? Just like your birthday, you had forgotten what you really wanted. You wished for your family to be well, not to be killed and to eat good food, but those are not really wishes, they are priorities. What was it that your heart really longed for? You had been at the mercy of other people for so long that you began to forget who you were. Your empty eyes gazed at the small flames dancing on the white candles, slowly melting around the edge as you experienced an existential crisis. Time was running out. What were you doing?

“Sis?” Yorozu called you worried. 

You blinked and focused back on reality again. The king to your left, your sister to your right and all the servants around you were looking at you worriedly. You coughed a couple of times to regain your posture and blew out the candles quickly. Everyone applauded you while you forced a smile as if nothing had happened. 

“What did you ask for, sis?” Yorozu asked you while a servant cut the cake to serve it to those at the table. 

“If I say so, it will not come true,” you excused yourself so as not to reveal that you had not ordered anything. 

The servant handed you a slice of cake with the biggest strawberry of the cake, you smiled cheek to cheek at the kind gesture. You were about to take it with your fork, but someone beat you to it. Yorozu snatched the strawberry with her hands and put it in her mouth without a care in the world. She chewed happily while looking at you with a mischievous smile. Despite being in the body of an adult, she still acted like a child. The servant, annoyed at the scene, placed two strawberries on top of your slice. 

Sukuna knew something was happening to you. He didn't know exactly what, but he recognized that expression anywhere. Nervous smile, watchful eyes and anxious hands. The signs couldn't have been clearer. You were uncomfortable. It was the expression all servants made when they saw him up close. He drank his glass of wine while you ate your cake without saying a word, while Yorozu chattered incessantly. It was odd that you were acting like that.

You stared intently at the blackboard with the double-digit numbers and letters to be solved. “Since when did math have letters?” you mentally grumbled as you paced back and forth across the library without taking your eyes off the wooden rectangle. After that archery lesson, King Sukuna ordered Kenjaku to continue the research he had been asking him to do for months. In the last few weeks, your teacher would leave you the lessons written on long scrolls or on the blackboard to focus on his new task from the darkness of his room. Sometimes you missed the company of a teacher, but the peace of solitude was fine too. The heavy door opened slowly, revealing Mrs. Inoue's head, asking if you were too busy. A smile crept onto your face as soon as you saw the colorful desserts on the golden tray. 

“Mrs. Inoue, what a miracle!” You greeted her by taking the tray from her hands so she could take a break. 

“I had to visit you on your special day. I had to visit you on your special day,” she answered as you handed her a chair to sit on. “The desserts and the card are from everyone.” 

The gold tray glistened in the dim light coming from the window. The small desserts were displayed with a precision that bordered on the artistic, denoting the creativity of the servants who were in charge of the kitchen. Small fruit tarts, a cup of chocolate mousse and tiny macaroons glistened with color in the dim light coming from the window. 

The gold tray glistened in the dim light coming from the window. The small desserts were displayed with a precision that bordered on the artistic, denoting the creativity of the servants who were in charge of the kitchen. Small fruit tarts, a cup of chocolate mousse and tiny macaroons glowed with color.

“How is everyone?” You asked worriedly as she checked the small card that was signed by all 53 servants.

“Well, what can I tell you? These last months of winter are the coldest in the dungeon. Do you remember the time when we had to sleep together to avoid hypothermia?”

The dungeon was the main cause of illness from the low temperatures that came with the season, muscle atrophy from the uncomfortable beds and broken bones from the old men falling out of the giant bunks. You were saddened to know that the situation hadn't changed at all since you stopped being a maid. You felt guilty that you were able to sleep in a comfortable bed in a heated room when several old people were sleeping in the worst possible place. The only thing that pitied your remorse was that they were safe from the clutches of curses during the dangerous night. 

“How many have fallen ill?” You asked as you looked back at the blackboard. 

You knew exactly why you were asking.  Partly it was because you did care about the servants, but you also wanted Mrs. Inoue to give you a victim to kill soon. 

“3. Less than last year,” Mrs. Inoue replied optimistically. 

You have influenced her way of thinking for months now. Even though they lived in constant fear of dying, it was better to make the most of the days alive because it was the only thing they could do. 

“Who is the worst off?” you asked. 

You prayed inwardly that he wouldn't ask you why you were asking that. Just as you were about to answer, the door slammed open again. Mrs. Inoue stood up in panic thinking it was the king or Uraume, but it was only Yorozu with a wide smile as always. 

“You're studying on your birthday!” She scolded you, offended by the sight. “Let's go practice archery like last time!” She proposed while running towards you furiously.

“I can't. I must solve these problems,” you answered. 

“Then solve them," Yorozu answered with a certain obviousness as if it hadn't occurred to you before. 

“It's not that easy,” you sighed. 

Yorozu grumbled when you looked back at the board. It wasn't fair that you were doing something so boring on your special day. You should be having fun with it. You took one of the mini fruit tarts from the tray and ate it in one bite. Quickly, he noticed Mrs. Inoue's presence. 

“Long time no see! How are you doing? Getting older every day, aren't ya?” Yorozu joked. 

“Yorozu!” You scolded her while writing something on the blackboard. “Be nice to the lady.”

“It seems they didn't teach you any manners at home, child,” the lady grumbled in annoyance. 

“What did she say?” Yorozu asked, offended. she reached over and pulled her ashen hair. “Say it again, old woman,” she challenged her. 

You looked back as you heard the lady's moan of pain. You couldn't believe what Yorozu was doing. You knew she was a troublemaker, but you never thought she would get that angry with a lady three times her age. Yorozu's hand was turning red from the pressure she was exerting, but the lady was not going to bend easily. After all, she suffered worse humiliations from the king and Uraume. You clenched your fist and lunged at your sister to punch her in the face to get her to let go, but she blocked your blow with her arm covered in glowing green armor. Your fist hit so hard that a certain part of the armor shattered, but it still hurt you more than it hurt her. 

“Don't you think my new armor made of beetle skin is cool? Although it looks like I need to perfect it,” Yorozu said excitedly before releasing the lady. 

“Apologize. Now,” you challenged her while holding your injured hand. 

“Are you really defending the old lady?” Your sister asked you in surprise. 

You only answered her with a knockout look. It was one of the few times she saw you upset. Seeing you as a second mother after the biological one, she knew she shouldn't bother you anymore if you were already angry. She undid her armor to return her posture to the lady. 

“Well, well...” She reluctantly surrendered. “I'm sorry she's so old.” 

“Yorozu!” 

“I was only joking. I'm sorry.” Finally, she apologized to your friend. 

“Aren't you supposed to be training?” You asked annoyed.

“Are you kicking me out?” Yorozu returned the question offended. 

“Yes,” you answered seriously. 

“Oh how boring…” She huffed in annoyance before walking quickly out of the room while complaining to herself. 

As soon as she was out of your sight, you collapsed into the chair next to Mrs. Inoue. The fist you hit her with stung against your other hand wrapped around her. You grabbed a macaron to eat it to calm the adrenaline rushing through your body. You couldn't believe what had just happened. It wasn't the first time you had hit your sister, but this time it felt personal. 

“What am I going to do with this girl?” You asked Mrs. Inoue rhetorically as you grabbed your forehead. 

“Thank you for defending me, but the truth is I didn't want to tell you this because she is your family, but... May I get this off my chest?” You looked at her curiously, wondering what she had kept so much to herself. “Your sister is a real bitch. She's rude, useless and stupid. She's a real pain in the ass. A fucking bitchy little bitch that nobody wants. I hope she eats a hill so she won't hear her bark. She thinks she's a good dick just because she has the king's permission...”

You only listened to her complain about how scandalous her snoring was, how rude she was to the servants and how much she talked about King Sukuna as if he were God himself. You knew Yorozu's behavior was bad, but it seemed to have gotten worse after the discovery of her powers and would only get worse as time went on. She was a barking bitch, but at some point she would bite back. 

“And you know what angers me the most?! How dare she take your strawberries?!” The lady complained. 

“She always does. I have always shared with him what is mine,” you tried to justify her on the only thing you could defend her on. 

“But that doesn't make it right,” she argued back. 

“It's my fault she's like that.” It was also your mother's fault that she was like that, but you never corrected her.

“Be that as it may. Let me give you some advice.” The lady interrupted you to stop excusing your sister's shitty attitude as she got up from her seat to face you, making sure you paid attention to her. “I may not know much about royalty, but what I do know is that if you're going to make a queen, you should learn to stand up for what's yours.” Leaving you with the word in your mouth, she wished you a happy birthday and walked out of your sight. 

You took another macaron to relax your posture on the chair and look at the ceiling of the library. You ate it slowly while admiring the splendid painting depicting a reddish sky and grayish summer clouds. You swallowed the viscous mixture of jelly and wafer before dropping your hands to your sides. “Fucking hell, Yorozu,” you thought. 

Sukuna was up to his neck in paperwork, so much so that he had to send Yorozu to practice on his own for the day. Document after document. Report after report. Sukuna loved being a king, but this was the part he hated the most. After finishing reading a mining production report, he put it away in the file cabinet and leaned back on the leather chair. He held his forehead to rest his eyes. He was sick of reading. A couple of knocks on the door woke him from his brief pause. He ordered with an annoyed grunt to the person behind the door revealed itself. Kenjaku bowed and approached the desk. 

“You'd better have moved on with your investigation,” Sukuna threatened him. “He's in a bad mood today,” the minor curse thought.

"Of course. It's the only thing I've done in the last two weeks,” Kenjaku said wryly behind a smile. “I have good news.”

“And what are you waiting to tell them?” The king grumbled.

“Since you are the reincarnation of a sorcerer, you have almost human genetics.” 

“Almost?” Sukuna arched his eyebrow.

“Humans don't have four arms and two penises, my king.” Kenjaku replied. “Your double genitalia are what makes it difficult to know if the conception will be effective or not.” 

“And how will you find that out?” Sukuna asked, trying to understand what he was talking about. 

“The only way we can know is by empirical research,” Kenjaku replied. 

“Empirical research, huh?” The king tasted the words in his mouth in confusion. 

“You know what I mean, don't you?” Kenjaku quickly deduced that his boss was not keeping up with the conversation. 

“Not at all,” Sukuna answered honestly. 

“Coitus,” Kenjaku replied. The older curse looked at him with no fucking idea what he was talking about. “Sex?” The master asked. There was no reaction. “The devil’s tango?” He tried a more vulgar version of the concept. Nothing. “Do you know how humans reproduce?” Sukuna shrugged.

This was worse than he imagined, but it didn't surprise him in the least. Sukuna should remember almost nothing of his past life as a sorcerer. Besides, he has been murdering and eating humans for as long as he can remember in his entire life, so he knows a lot about them. As a hunter he knows hares and deer to stalk, but not enough to understand them. He knows how they act under stress, sadness and life and death situations. Now, Sukuna was to learn about one of the greatest causes of joy for humans: reproduction. 

“Human reproduction is complicated.” Kenjaku mentally prepared himself to give a lesson to the ignorant king. “It is divided into many phases, but we will focus for now on the first one: the sexual act.”

“Just tell me what to do and I will do it,” the king ordered him to get to the point.

 “It's not that simple and even less so if it's you,” Kenjaku joked to himself.

“There is nothing I can't do,” Sukuna threatened him with the look that he was losing his patience. 

“I don't doubt it, my king, but it will be difficult to go from causing pain to pleasure,” he explained. 

“Pleasure? That's a waste of time. I just want an heir,” Sukuna scoffed. 

“If you want an heir so badly, you must give y/n pleasure,” the teacher explained. 

Now that would be tricky. The only pleasure Sukuna knew was terrorizing and killing people. It was the reason he woke up every day. He doubted it would even cause you to smile since you cared so much about others. Every time you saw him it was the same anguished and timid face as always. Like you were walking through eggshells every time you saw him. 

“Luckily, I got ahead of this problem,” Kenjaku said. “I took the liberty of choosing some novels that illustrate what he must do to satisfy the lady and conceive a seed,” he announced while handing her a couple of books marked with dividers indicating what she had to read. “If you still have questions, I will answer them in the morning.”

“Do you plan for me to read all of this by tomorrow?” Sukuna asked him while going through the books. 

“What, you can't?” Kenjaku asked sarcastically, knowing it would hurt the king's ego. In the blink of an eye, Sukuna cut Kenjaku's cheek with his technique. “That's my cue to leave,” he said with a bow to get out of her sight as soon as possible.

“Wait,” he ordered him, stopping the master suddenly. “Do you know if Mahito is busy?” Now it was Kenjaku who arched his eyebrow.

You were brushing your hair in front of the dressing table. The red moon was seeping through one of the holes in the rose window. You had put on a pink nightgown that matched your fuzzy slippers. Bedtime was approaching, along with the night's anxiety. You still had no clear target for your assassination, but at least you knew that one of the servants would naturally die soon. That calmed your worries about choosing a victim, but the anxiety of having to kill someone was getting the better of you. 

The door abruptly opened. You jumped out of your seat and grabbed the golden comb like a boomerang, ready to throw it in case it was a surprise attack. You were reassured to see that it was only Yorozu, who was laughing hysterically at your frightened reaction. 

“You should see your face, you look like you've seen a ghost!” He scoffed as he jumped onto your bed. 

“What are you doing here? You know it's curfew.” You asked worriedly. Uraume would cheat her if she found out I was in your room. 

“Are you kicking me out again?” I already apologized to the old lady. We are already the best friends in the world,” you really doubted it after hearing how Mrs. Inoue had expressed herself about her. 

“I just want you to know that even though we have more privileges than the servants, we still work for the king so we must obey his rules,” you explained gently as you sat down next to her. 

“Nah, we are not equal,” Yorozu said proudly. 

“We are humans, just like all the servants,” you shook your head. 

“No, you are equal to all humans. I, on the other hand, am superior to all humans,” your sister answered stubbornly. 

“But the king will only use you like all of us.” You told her in frustration. “Don't you see? If it weren't for your powers, you would have died by now.” Clearly, you were worried about her. 

“You don't know that,” Yorozu pouted at you. 

“I've seen the king kill people just for looking them in the eye without their permission. He's a bloody tyrant.” You grabbed her by the shoulders in an attempt to talk some sense into her.

“Do you hate him that much?” Yorozu asked you, in an attempt to change the conversation. 

“It's complicated,” you answered with a sigh. 

“Then why don't you give me your job?”

“What?” You asked dumbfounded. 

“Just think about it. You don't want to marry him. He seems interested in me for his personal use. I have everything it takes to be a queen. It's a win-win,” your sister explained as if it was the best plan in the world.

“I don't think you realize you're missing out on all this. King Sukuna may be acting gentle, but he's a cold-blooded killer. One wrong step and you're dead. Do you really want to die like that?” You were trying to talk sense into her at all costs, but she just wouldn't try. 

“If it's at the hands of the king, yes,” she replied. 

“You're crazy,” you whispered in disbelief at how foolish she was before you let her go. Where had it all gone wrong? “Just answer me something. Would you kill for him?” You asked her, begging her with your eyes to say “no”. 

“All the men he asks me to,” you recoiled in defeat, but a new feeling of justice grew in you. 

After hearing what Mrs. Inoue had to say and from what your sister herself was making clear to you, you now had a wish you wanted to fulfill. No matter what. Yorozu wouldn't be Sukuna's queen. If the king was already a horrible tyrant, then her as his queen would only make things worse. If you were the queen, some would die. If your younger sister was the queen, thousands would die. You were sure of that. You couldn't let her become a tyrant.

“Wow, you really love him, don't you?” You asked with a smile.

“That's right! The king is so strong, big, rich, and handsome. I love him and I want him to be mine, but I need your help,” Yorozu asked you with a pout.

“Tell me and I'll do it,” you replied.

“Tell him about me. Tell him that I'm a better candidate for queen than you and that I'll be the happiest girl in the world if he looks in my direction. If you do, I promise I'll give you the best life in the world.” You already knew that speech by heart. It was the same silly speech she told your mother to buy her a new dress with the few savings she had. Only you weren't stupid enough to fall for her empty promises.

"How about I tell her now?" You proposed excitedly.

"Really? Would you do that for me?" Yorozu replied.

"Of course. I owe you for hitting you," you told her remorsefully. "Just stay here. I'll take care of everything." You forced her to sit on your bed.

"You're the best!" Yorozu exclaimed as she clapped her hands proud of you.

"It didn't take long!" You said with a smile before closing the door.

The fake smile disappeared as you walked through the dark hallways with determination towards your king's room. You walked stealthily to avoid attracting the attention of Uraume or any of the curses that guarded the halls in case of a surprise invasion. Now you had a clear objective. Prevent Yorozu from becoming a queen at all costs.

The count opened the door with his heart in his hand. She must be the only person he expected to see under the beauty of midnight. It was her, his beautiful beloved wrapped in pink lace. His lips pounced on her with the force of a desperate hurricane. They couldn't waste a second of this spontaneous encounter away from everyone. He unwrapped her like a birthday present and laid her down on the bed. He was going to make love to her as if this were the last night he would be alive.

"So love is made?" Sukuna wondered as he read Letters of Passion. One of the novels that Kenjaku had asked him to read so he could learn about sex. He read in the comfort of the armchair that faced directly in front of the lit fireplace. The small crackles of the fire against the wood were the only things that accompanied him on this cold night, along with the hundreds of golden artifacts that shone from the warmth of the flames excited by the fuel. Now he understood why Kenjaku had told him to let him know his doubts in the morning. He wasn't understanding anything he was reading. Sukuna has always been a direct and initiative-taking being, he just wanted to leave his seed and that's it. Why waste time on kisses, caresses and hugs? Kenjaku had told him that he should do it for you, but he doubted that you would want him to do something like that. Surely you also wanted him to finish quickly. You weren't the enamored count and his beloved, you were just a monster and a slave. He licked his finger to turn the page, but a familiar voice distracted him.

“My king, are you awake?” You asked from the other side of the door.

Sukuna opened the door, finding you in pink pajamas. He was going to ask you what you were doing in his chambers after the clear curfew hour, but he ended up hyper-focusing on the lace that delicately decorated your chest. “Like in the book,” he thought in surprise. “Choosing some novels that illustrate what he should do with the young lady,” Kenjaku quoted in his mind. Was this how it all started?

“I’m sorry to bother you late at night, but…” Your words were interrupted by your king’s lips against yours.

In a kind of surprise attack, Sukuna bent down to your level to kiss you softly on the lips. If this was how he was supposed to do it, he might as well take advantage of it. Even though he was on the right track, he was missing one detail: that you wanted to kiss him too. Your eyes widened in shock as you felt the gentle attack against your person. Your first reaction was to step back, but Sukuna quickly grabbed your waist to stop you from escaping. His four eyes stared back at you before deepening the kiss. You had no choice but to play along with your tongue as your mind searched for answers. “What does he think he’s doing?!” you thought in panic as his kisses moved in accordance with the rhythm he had set. “Did the king steal my first kiss?!”

Kissing the king felt like you were committing the worst of crimes, but you slowly got used to it like an acquired taste. He was fierce but kind, like the calm in the middle of the terrible storm. After a few seconds of special tasting, you realized something. “Wait, this is perfect for Yorozu not becoming queen!” you thought before closing your eyes, letting yourself be carried away by the passionate act. Your arms wrapped around his neck to keep him just as close, melting into the warmth of the approach in an attempt to coax him in your own way.

It was strange. Too strange. Why were you closing your eyes? Why were you hugging him? Were you really enjoying it? Is this how it should be? Sukuna had no idea what he was doing, but he was enjoying it. He knew you would reciprocate, but surely it was because you would do anything for him. Your lips were juicy and sweet, it must have been because of all the desserts you had consumed during the day. If he concentrated he could guess the taste of the macaron you had eaten after dinner.

As the novel dictated, he carried you by the thighs with ease to get you into the room without breaking the kiss that slowly became wilder. He laid you down on the bed gently to take possession of your body. You knew so well that he didn't seem to want to stop anytime soon. You were so gentle with him even though he deserved to be punished for his multiple genocides. With his lower hands, he took your pajamas and lifted them up to show your naked body. "Are we really going to do this?" you thought worriedly as you closed your legs feeling the wetness in your crotch.

Sukuna threw the pajamas on the armchair where he was sitting and broke the kiss to admire you beneath him. Your leg over the other, your hands covering your breasts shyly and your cheeks flushed, was something he hadn't seen since the last time you showered together. You were very nervous, more than other times. Your lips were parted and shone against the firelight from the saliva you had exchanged. You looked beautiful, but there was a small problem.

“Is something wrong, my king?” You asked him worried when you saw that he just looked at you without doing anything else.

“I don't know what to do now,” he admitted.

“Excuse me?”

Sukuna stood up to take the book he was reading and throw it at you. You sat on the bed confused to try to figure out what was going on. You looked at the king and then at the suggestive title of the novel he had given you. You opened the book to the passage he was reading and immediately blushed. “I just acted out what was happening in the book” you concluded before slamming the book shut.

“Kenjaku told me to do it,” Sukuna explained. “Kenjaku?!” you thought astonished. “Love is made?” He asked you directly as if they were casually chatting and you weren't completely naked. Sukuna really was a strange curse.

With that question you could deduce what was going on. Sukuna wants an heir, but he doesn’t know how to get one. So, he sent Kenjaku to investigate and gave him an erotic novel so he could understand. “Why didn’t they ask me before?” you thought as you covered your uncomfortable nakedness with your arms.

“Something like that…” you answered. “Love must already exist for it to happen. Making love is a mere literary expression that refers to sex.”

“Damn! Everyone keeps repeating that word, but I don’t know what that is!” Sukuna complained.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his ignorance. You had always seen Sukuna as a powerful curse that knows everything. Seeing him so frustrated at not being able to understand a subject so simple for you made you laugh a little. “Wait, does this mean that the king is a virgin too?”

“You know what it means, don’t you?” He asked you directly. You nodded shyly.

You knew what sex was thanks to the education your mother gave you, but you knew how to do it thanks to the friends Yorozu made at the balls. They always talk about the gorgeous knights and what they wanted to do to them in such detail that sometimes they surprised you at how graphic and vulgar they could be.

“You owe me a favor for saving your sister at the harvest,” Sukuna reminded you. You had already forgotten that detail. “Teach me what sex is.”

“That means you want to make your heir… Now?” You asked him confused.

“What?!” The king was really lost. He had many questions and almost no answers.

Not expecting that reaction, you burst out laughing. You were laughing. You were laughing with him. It had never occurred to him that he could hear you having fun so close. It was as if you weren't afraid of his reaction for making fun of him. You were treating him like he was just another human. He blushed when he realized that he was surely acting like a lunatic in front of you.

“Let me explain,” you took his hand to sit him on the bed next to you. He obeyed your guidance. “Just pay attention”

You explained to him how sexual relations worked, the difference between the types of sex and how vaginal penetration is the only way to achieve conception. Sukuna listened intently as you explained everything to him as if he were an innocent 12-year-old boy. Then, you explained how pregnancy works. That was the easiest part to explain, since you had seen your mother get pregnant twice. The king nodded at everything you said as a sign that he was paying attention to you.

“Wow, it’s more complicated than I thought,” Sukuna said when you finished your master class.

“You just have to worry about the conception part, I’ll take care of the rest, my king,” you explained.

“No, I have to make sure you and the baby are okay,” he said before rubbing your bare stomach as if there was already a baby there. “Let me worry about it.”

Your cheeks turned red at those words. You really thought the king would leave you alone once conception had taken place like many families did. After all, Sukuna was a very busy king so it wouldn’t surprise you, but you had misjudged him.

“Thank you, my king,” you told him before kissing his cheek softly.

You smiled genuinely at him and he tried to return the gesture, but he only showed his teeth like a dog trying to smile. You laughed at how silly he looked and shook your head to stop him from doing it. You and Sukuna sat on the edge of the bed in silence for a while while you watched the small bonfire. The heat was so much that it didn't bother you to be naked, but it was better to look for your clothes before you caught a cold. You got out of bed to look for the nightgown that the king had taken from you.

"And by the way, what are you doing here at this hour?" Sukuna asked you to remember the time it was. "Ah, that's right, I came to tell him something."

"I wanted to ask him to stop training Yorozu for a while," you asked the king, starting the operation: "Yorozu can't be queen."

"Excuse me?"

"I understand that she is a sorceress that can be used for future battles and protection, but her attitude has worsened since she arrived at the castle and it makes everyone uncomfortable," you explained. “It bothers everyone in the service, even Uraume.”

“I know that,” he answered. “Uraume had never given me a service report as bad as your sister's”

He remembers the day Uraume left the report on his desk like every two weeks. Even though her face was monotonous as always, he knew from her attitude that she had left him a bomb in the form of words. She had dedicated herself to writing three pages explaining what a terrible servant Yorozu was and why she should kill her soon. She had a headache just from resisting the urge to kill her for your sake.

“Even though we are both adults, I am still her older sister, so it is my duty to discipline her.”

“And what does this have to do with training?” Sukuna asked.

“She sees training with you as a reward, it is fun because she can tempt you to her liking and that must stop. She must learn how to behave around you. What good is a powerful weapon if it's going to act under its own regime?” You knew that wasn't the reason you didn't want me to stop training with him, but if you wanted the king to be on your side, you had to give him his side. “Plus, it'll give me the chance to practice how to deal with a rebellious child once I become a mother.” You also had to infantilize Yorozu as much as possible so that the king wouldn't see her as a possible candidate for queen.

“Okay. I'll stop training her until I see that her attitude has changed.” Sukuna accepted your notion. Maybe too quickly, since you thought he would fight a little harder because he wanted to make his new weapon more powerful as soon as possible, but it had worked. “Check” you thought, avoiding a smile to prevent the king from seeing your true intentions.

“Thank you, my king,” you thanked him with a bow. “That would be all. I'm leaving to let you rest.” You turned around to go back the way you came, but Sukuna grabbed your arm. You looked at him confused as he stopped you.

“It’s curfew. If Uraume or some curse sees you in the hallways, they have the right to eat you alive.” You gasped, you didn’t know that was the reason for the curfew. “You’ll stay with me tonight,” he ordered.

Sukuna pulled you by the arm to get you into bed. He carefully tucked you in next to him so you were as warm as possible. You had known each other for so long that you felt comfortable with the idea of ​​sleeping next to him. Your heart was beating a mile a minute as you watched him settle into the large pillows. His skin glowed orange from the fireplace, while he combed his pink hair back, causing his muscles to flex in front of you. “I can’t believe this king was my first kiss” you thought before turning around so he wouldn’t notice your blush.

It had been a while since you slept with him, but this time was different. Before, you were just a servant who only obeyed his orders to the letter and trembled just by looking at him. Sukuna had only slept with you because he saw you as a sleepy pet, but now you felt like he really wanted to sleep with his future wife. You felt Sukuna’s arms snake over your body like that time to catch you by the waist and shoulders. He pressed you against his body while you felt his heavy breathing in your ear. If only he knew that this was the only thing he had to do to give you pleasure.

“My king,” you called him in a whisper.

“What?” he asked you as he closed his eyes.

“Do you have feelings for me?” you asked him curiously.

“Like what feelings?” he asked back.

You smiled and closed your eyes to drift off to sleep. You didn't know why you had asked now, but it confirmed that he had no feelings for you. He only saw you as the future mother of his heir and that was it, but for some reason that made you happy. You hugged back his arms that held you while you caressed his hands.

“Forget it, my king. Rest well,” you said before resting your head on his bicep.

Next →

Open fanfic commissions!

Masterlist.

tag list: @bbnbhm @pxnellian @kbirdieee2540

(Let me know if you wanna be tagged in the next chapter!)

[transformers-spike]

I cannot be the only one who wants to bang peepaw Alpha Trion plEASE TELL ME IM NOT ALONE 😭

I will never stop being an old man enjoyer. Give us your spike, peepaw

“I’m relieved we aren’t the only ones in this universe.” The words echo in his processor like sand in the desert wind. Fading in and out of consciousness under the rubble, he clings onto the softness of your voice, the faded edges of your smile burnt into his memory. He cannot make sense of your shape anymore, it’s a blotch of ink in his vision, something he recalls but cannot fully visualize. His mind reaches out to you, so close yet so far away. With every step he takes, you grow smaller, and still, you patiently wait for him with your arms outstretched. Like old times. You are dead. This he knows. Unequivocally dead. His digits twitch, warnings encapsulate his vision, reminding him each and every nanoclik of wakefulness that the next in-vent could be his last. He can’t help himself. Duty has led his life for so long, bestowed upon him by his creator, and he cannot fall back now and forgo his promise to protect Cybertron. But he is weak; pain receptors growing numb from the boulders crushing his frame, limbs quivering from a battle long lost. Primus forgive him, allow him this final comfort. Cycles ago, your crew had first established contact with Cybertron. It was a message sent across space, a simple signal that would tie your fates forever. The Council debated answering, fearing you could pose a threat to their planet, but there were only three ships with only a handful of members each. They chose fraternization over static silence. Communication was difficult, but somehow, someway, you understood each other just enough to arrive on their planet. Surprise struck him when he saw your kind, small, frail and soft to the touch. Your people were just as startled as them, but in your optics he saw something greater; a delight in meeting fellow sentient beings. They took in your crew and treated them like brothers and sisters, communicating through gestures and drawings. You could not speak their language, but they could learn yours. Knowledge was shared among you, tales of your worlds, their history, your technology, your people… Perhaps your place among your own was what drew him to you. Standing on the sidelines, you watched and took notes, occasionally serving as a sketch artist to exchange information. The others were mingling with the Council, asking questions, telling stories, showing what machinery brought you to them. But you kept your distance, politely nodding along and busying yourself with your notebooks. When he approached you, taking slow careful steps, you nearly dropped your pen in shock. His size was already intimidating by Cybertronian standards, but for a human? He could barely imagine the primal fear you felt when met with someone of his stature. You recovered quickly despite it, uneasy but maintaining your composure. Having knelt down to your level, he offered you servo, the sand within it shaping into a miniature version of your ship. You blinked, clutching your notebook to your chassis. Then, after a drawn out silence, you smiled, optics gleaming with wonder. That was the start of your companionship. You would sit in his servo, looking up at the night sky, speaking words he could barely understand but tried his hardest to learn. He recalls bits and pieces, meanings he managed to grasp through what you taught him. It wasn’t long until your time together grew intimate. As a prime, he was so focused on his duties that he barely got the chance to relax, much less interface. Things were… difficult due to the size difference, but there were workarounds. Charge runs through his fuel lines at the memory. How you would brush your digits against his valve, testing the waters so to say, before slipping your servo inside of it. There was no true relief in the interface, no way for you to properly satisfy each other. But you were both content, savoring every moment of your companionship. You would press your lips to his spike, working your servo in and out of his gushing valve. It made his frame shudder and his optics glitch.

He touched you much the same way, digits rubbing at the sensitive nerves between your thighs, gazing down at you lovingly as you grit your denta and arched your optical ridge in pleasure.

[archiveikemen]

Ikemen Villains Prologue: Act 2

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection; expect mistakes, grammatical errors, and some creative liberties. All original content and media used belongs to Cybird. Please support the game by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

Read this before interacting

Victor: From this moment on, you are officially a “Fairytale Keeper”, a position exclusive to “Crown”.

Victor: Kate will live in the castle from now onwards and work alongside the members of “Crown”.

Victor: The members of “Crown” will also keep an eye on her, to make sure she doesn't reveal any secrets.

Victor: During this time, Kate will write down your evil deeds. Just like she’s writing a fairytale.

…

Victor: If you want to return to your normal life after a month… don't let any of them steal your heart.

…

A week has passed since I started my life of sin as a Fairytale Keeper.

Following Victor’s advice, I haven’t fallen in love with anyone.

This way, once I prove to them that I’m a trustworthy person able to keep secrets, I’ll be able to return home safely soon.

That was what I thought, then it happened.

A pure white evil descended on England—

Victor: There is only one reason for gathering all of you here today.

Victor: That is to introduce our guests from Germany—

Victor: — to Crown and Kate.

Victor: May I ask you to kindly introduce yourself?

Angelic Man: A pleasure to meet you, dear members of Crown.

Darius: I’m Darius Vogel, the Chief of “Vogel”, an organisation under direct command of the Emperor of Germany.

Victor: Vogel is said to be a research organisation that promotes the contribution to society by Cursed Ones.

Victor: They will be living in the Royal Palace for a few months as goodwill ambassadors.

Darius: “The power of Curses for a better society” is our motto.

Darius: Although Cursed Ones presently live in the darkness, we believe that there are greater ways they can engage with society!

Darius: Just imagine a future where Cursed Ones and normal humans work alongside each other… exciting, isn’t it?

Darius: The moment I heard about this wonderful organisation in England named “Crown”, I couldn’t contain myself!

Harrison: …

Darius: Oh, don’t worry! This goes without saying, but only a few people in Germany know about the existence of “Cursed Ones”.

Darius: We know about “Crown” because all of us in Vogel are cursed too.

Darius: Interacting more with our fellow Cursed Ones helps to deepen our understanding of Curses and their abilities, right?

Darius: We could have a dinner party, or we could accompany you on your missions for field studies. c

Victor: To the outside world, they came to England as diplomats. Their real purpose of researching Curses is kept secret.

Darius: Thank you for your thorough addition, Sir Queen’s Aide. Although our positions require us to keep many secrets from one another…

Darius: I hope to establish a new regularity together with all of you.

Darius: By the way… it appears that Sir William Rex isn’t here. Where is he?

Victor: Ah, William isn’t here with us today. Please excuse him.

Darius: Oh really? That’s a pity. … I thought I’d finally get to meet him in person…

Darius: Well, I suppose it’s understandable because we arrived a few days earlier than expected.

Darius: Well then, allow me to introduce these two. They’re a pair of twins; the older one is Nica, and the younger one is Ring.

Darius: Now, be good and introduce yourselves to everyone.

Ring: Ring Schwartz… we’ll be in your care for the next few months. I’ll show no mercy if you attempt to harm us.

Nica: Goodness, don’t be so intimidating. Sorry for my brother’s rudeness.

Nica: As you can see, even though he’s an adorable and good kid, he’s very wary like a dog. Oh, I should introduce myself too.

Nica: Guten Tag, members of Crown. I’m Nica Schwartz. Nice to meet you all

Darius: Yup, Nica’s a well-behaved one.

Darius: Nica, Ring, and I are like a “family”.

Darius: I hope we can become this close with Crown as well.

Darius: … Oh? I heard that Crown consists of the Queen’s Aide and eight men… who might you be?

Kate: I’m Kate, the “Fairytale Keeper”.

Victor: Kate isn’t a Cursed One, but she’s an important person who records Crown’s activities.

Darius: “Important person”? Hmm…

Darius: If she’s an “important person” to Crown, we should be courteous with her too.

Ring: …

Nica: You’re right, Dari. I’m so glad there’s someone else other than a bunch of guys here.

Nica: Nice to meet you, cute little robin.

Kate: … Nice to meet you too.

…

After parting ways with Vogel who went on to spend time in the room Victor prepared for them in the palace, I returned to the castle with the members of Crown.

(I’ve finally adapted to my life here, but I have a feeling that something’s about to change.)

I thought back to our meeting with Vogel.

(Vogel… a research organisation made up of Cursed Ones. So that means things like curses exist outside of England too.)

(Darius is always smiling, he looks like an angel.)

(Nica seems spirited and easy to talk to, while Ring on the other hand seems cold. They’re twins, but the impressions they give off are polar opposites.)

(Anyway, they seem like friendly people… but why do I have a gut feeling that’s not true…?)

(Did spending time with Crown and being exposed to all sorts of evil make me suspicious…?)

Harrison: … You felt it too?

Kate: Huh?

Harrison: Those guys were lying.

…

Nica: “Fairytale Keeper”, huh. The data we had beforehand didn’t include any information on the existence of that girl and her role.

Nica: I’m guessing that she just happened to discover the existence of Crown and is currently being surveillanced by them. What do you think, Ring?

Ring: …

Nica: … Ring? Are you listening?

Ring: Oh… I don’t understand complicated things, but I think it’s best to refrain from speaking based on mere speculation.

Ring: All I can say is… as long as we’re not clear on her true nature, we should be wary of her.

Darius: I mean, even though she’s a “Fairytale Keeper”, she looks like an ordinary “human”. There’s nothing much she can do.

Darius: Growing our “family” is the most important. Don’t forget our goal.

Nica: Verstanden / Understood.

Ring: … Yeah.

Darius: I can’t wait to chat with everyone more… fufu.

[death---dealer]

Hello, I've never made a request before but I really like your writing and was wondering if you could do number 29 with Caeser? You're and amazing writer so you know

29. kisses when they're mad Screams into the void.

It was obvious from Caesar’s disposition that he was tearing himself from the inside with aggravated irrationality. Not rare; your eyes were ample as they watched him pace in front of the nest. The stagger of his gait, so hard against the floor in the way that his spaced out toes grasped at the thatches of wood that were bunched together to create a sustained levitation of the home in the air. The way of the Apes, you tried to ignore the push and pull in your stomach that you were indeed lifted so far off the ground when you slept as it caused greater anxiety than you were willing to admit.

Not as much as the moment, you were dragged back into it at the way that Caesar’s fur slowly raised against his shoulders. Recognizing it closely as terse irritation, your mouth parted before running dry at the small shifted growl that came from his throat. Something happened, you figured. Something had to have happened in the Council meeting he just dispatched from. 

The Politics of the Colony were rarely ever discussed between the two of you unless it were something pertaining strictly to the causes of Humanity. You chose it that way, it confused you otherwise the one or two meetings you had been invited to and were unable to keep up due to the mixture of sign language and speaking. “Caesar---” ‘Do not understand.’

 That was clear in the way that he used inflictions between his fingers to sign towards you. Anger coated at the very fingertips of Caesar as he flickered his blown dilated eyes towards you for only a moment before a rocketed growl, this one resting more from his chest, hit your eardrums. ‘Why they… are still unwilling to see my authority in choosing you. My mate. My choice!’

The exclamation came from the way that the Ape King threw his hands towards you, not directed but in frustration at something he could not fix with his word and will power. Koba, you understood that much and brought your legs over the nest and picked your body upwards. You could hear inside of your mind; the alarm bells ringing at the fact that you were approaching an angry Chimpanzee, someone who could rightfully tear off your face without reserve or remorse but there was the other tug. That this was Caesar. This was… Caesar… 

Drawing a deep breath in, you caught the large frame of him with your cusped hands on his upper biceps, mid-pace as he was just turning around and nearly toppled both of your bodies over with the sheer tenacity he was using to catapult his body in annoyed contemplation.

Caesar refused eye contact that you initiated, truly intent on dragging this situation out longer than needed by refusing to acknowledge that maybe speaking to you was a better option. Sure it was, he muttered inside his mind and let his gaze lock onto yours for just a split second. But this was such a drawn out conversation regardless, it felt like Caesar was pulled one direction in the loyalty he proved to Koba and his fellow Apes and the love and affection he proved to you, his Mate. Chosen from so many others after the death of Cornelia, enlightened and… Human.

‘Not just Koba anymore.’ Caesar could feel the prickling of his fur against your fingers as you carded them upwards against the grain of his fur and to his shoulders were you grabbed more finitely. ‘My Son… Asks… Questions I do not have answers for---’

Sighing, your shoulders sloped forwards as you tried to urge Caesar to look at you with the stare that was so familiar, usually so alight with interest but all you were able to see was darkness under his hardened browline. “Blue Eyes? R-Really? I thought we were making good progress---” “It is Koba, I know it…” Caesar’s voice came out gritting, your stare widening at the fact that… This was the first time you were hearing him speak that day, and it was hard and not full of the affection you had so closely associated with him for he rarely ever spoke to you in moments of self-introspection that bordered closer to minor self-deprecation.

It was not offensive to you anymore; the first time something like this had happened and you had taken offense to it, it caused Caesar more inner turmoil that lasted even longer as you refused to even see him for a week. “Koba… Speaks… to Blue Eyes about you, about the things… He learned from Humans. The ones who hurt, the ones who… Caused him…” Caesar’s hackles were incredible to see, the fur that hit around his shoulders rising right under your fingertips as you reached to cup his face, no hesitation with the fact that he was able to eat off your fingers if he so chose that. “You need to calm down---” “Koba needs to listen when I tell him that you are not a threat!” “Caesar---” 

“He is selfish,” Caesar drifted his gawk to stare at something off to the side instead of meeting your stare. Ashamed of himself for getting so angry, for letting Koba’s words slide under his skin despite his conscious mind knowing otherwise and that it was Koba who was ashamed. It was Koba who was afraid. “Nothing but a selfish Ape.”

“Aren’t we all a lil’ selfish?” You offered and catapulted yourself into your tippy toes. “Caesar, you need to listen to me.” Silence. The brooding form that you were leaning against for balance was stagnant, his beautifully torn irises bouncing with exasperation. Fine, you cocked your body forward and closed the gap between your two forms. If Caesar wanted to play the game without words, you were very much allowed to do the same thing. The hands that were holding so tenderly to his face in a bid to get him to look at you shifted downwards as you grasped his muzzle and brought your mouth square onto his own.

Such a Human element to an Ape situation, you fluttered your eyes shut and let yourself linger against the thinned nature of his lips. This was not the first time you had done this, captivating him a few times here and there with spotted pecks when you were in the throes of pleasure and this was the first time you were using it in the throes of anger. 

“You really need… to calm down… And think about this rationally.” You muttered, your words ghosting themselves over his mouth as Caesar finally looked down at you, semi-cross eyed from how close you were. Levering his long arm to cup at your back, you let him drag you inwards almost to the point where your feet left the wooden ground below. “Caes---” There was no more argument to be had, the Ape moved forward himself this time, capturing your mouth halfway open and without reserve, your tongue was pressing against the flatter nature of his canines, eyelids falling shut as Caesar was quick to pull you with him to resume the position you had been in in the nest before he arrived. He’d figure it out, he knew that.

He had known that since the moment he arrived home to complain, his mouth detaching from yours and admiring the slickened saliva that trailed between your lips before Caesar broke and shattered the spit into the air, “Will talk to Blue Eyes tomorrow… Will you… Join me?”

“Always.”

And with that, you were dropped onto your back and allowed to take in the delectation of the Ape King crawling himself up your body. From your feet, his hard frame allotted itself against you, and with a small moan escaping lips, Caesar ate it up and brought his own mouth back down onto yours.

[sonicasura]

Transformers: Analog Horror Style

I've been talking about this on a non fandom related Discord and decided to bring it here. There are various analog horrors that utilize non horror series such as Splatoon 3 or Jurassic Park. It felt only right to add something like Transformers to the mix.

Extraterrestrial mechanical beings who can disguise themselves as various machinery, grainy footage and videotapes that only hold clues??? Perfect material for a horror. Here's some ideas that came to mind.

Decepticons

Nowhere is safe and one wrong move can potentially be your last. The Internet is a stalking ground so post or search with caution. Lest you wind up on Soundwave's radar. This Decepticon will be happy to light up his targets for one reason: an insidious hunt for the spy master's cassettes to enjoy.

Ever seen a beautiful sports car parked by the side with a sleek blood red paint job? DO NOT TOUCH. Unless you want to meet the same fate as all the others who run afoul with Knockout.

A terror in the skies that signals disaster wherever he appears. Pray the lone jet doesn't reveal it's true form. Don't look and hope he hadn't spotted you if a glimpse occurs. Survivors of Starscream are miniscule.

Results are all that matter. Morals? Worthless. Lives? Another opportunity to experiment. Emotions? Not needed. Shockwave only serves for the cause with lethal efficiency.

It is useless to hide. This will only excite him. Run as it chips away at his boredom. Fight and he'll be merry to slaughter the lamb caught in his gaze. All Hail Megatron as humanity is nothing but a plaything.

The only way this information can get through is by the way of analog. Find these tapes at your own risk. There is no turning back the moment the video starts. Decepticons don't lose their prey easily.

Autobots

It's nearly impossible to tell if they have good intentions unlike their more violent counterparts. The Internet is a double edged sword that needs to be regarded with caution. Autobots are at a greater disadvantage than you think. What little information about them is scarce.

Communication and knowledge is minimal. Some can speak but how comprehensible they are varies. The most understandable share only broken sentences that rarely blur into inhuman language. A few offer a 'soup' of linguistics which share little to no connection. Some play by the ear but don't understand what every word means. The remainder are mute, either speaking in their language or have no voice box to respond through.

Most don't understand how humans function. A situation that has led to people being slaughtered by Decepticons, accidental harm to the innocent, or danger by their fellow man who believe they gone insane. This has led to a decision from their leader, Optimus Prime.

Human help is REQUIRED. They need a liaison if the Autobots hope to even catch up to the Decepticons. Government related officials won't do as these humans are too volatile and always under Soundwave's surveillance.

What they need is a teacher. Someone who can offer such knowledge and not marked as a person of interest to their enemies. A bystander will do.

Pay attention to the car that appears outside your driveway. Look closer at the one following behind on the road. Did another join each car? Flee foolishly and they will give chase.

If the lights behind you disappear, DON'T RELAX. The Peterbilt is coming. Avoid him as he will trap you. Stop and the chance of escape dwindles. Turning off the engine was a bad mistake. DO NOT RUN. Optimus Prime will catch you and escape is impossible.

Welcome to the war. You can't escape until one side wins. The Autobots are guardians but also prison wards to their chosen liaison. You will be protected yet caution is still advised. Welcome to this new dangerous life.

That's it for now! Until next time folks, I'll see you later. Transform and Roll Out!

[yuly]

↬ Child’s Play: Part 3 ↫

Aaron Hotchner x gender neutral reader

Summary: Jack helps bring you and Aaron back together

Warnings: angst and fluff, brief mention of anxiety

WC: 2.6K

Pic credit: @masterwords​

A/N: text in italics indicates a flashback

 *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

It has been a year of healing, growth and self-love. For the first time in your life, you poured all your time and energy into your own well-being. Your journey to self-healing is like an exhausting hiking trip, the climb is daunting, but the glorious views from the top make it all worth the while.

Looking back, you recognize that the dynamic between Aaron and Haley, and their extensive history, created an unhealthy environment for you. As much as it hurts to admit, there is nothing you can do to change that. You decided to remove yourself from that environment and focus on the one thing you can control: yourself. You spent the year travelling, levelling up in your professional life, and making conscious decisions to invest in your happiness. 

Aaron put all his time and energy into his job, delving deeper into his career than ever before. His relationship with Haley is now strained beyond repair. Still, he interacts maturely for Jack’s sake despite his anger and resentment. Even after the divorce, Aaron always had a special love for Haley. The calming sense of familiarity usually presented whenever they were around each other was now replaced with formal greetings and short straight-to-the-point sentences. She will always be a part of his life but no longer a welcomed guest in his heart. 

Aaron will never forgive himself for losing you, for breaking your heart, for not appreciating all he had with you. He spent the greater part of the year going over every minute detail of your relationship, anguishing over every misstep he took. His heart aches with every beat it takes without you by his side. Aaron yearns to make it right; there is not a day that goes by where he doesn’t pray for a second chance with you. He constantly dreams of being able to love on you, cherish you, and hold you tight.

Losing you made him question himself as a man and a profiler. Not a day goes by when he doesn’t feel ashamed for not seeing what was happening before his eyes. He spent hours revisiting the core principles of profiling and human behaviour. He feels lost, with no sense of direction and no desire to be found. 

Rossi has tried to set him up on a few dates, but no one comes close to you. No relationship will ever be like the one he had with you. No one can fill that void in his heart and mend its tiny pieces like you do. There is nothing he wouldn’t give for a second chance.

Jack will never forgive him or Haley for losing you. His friend, fellow dinosaur enthusiast, reading buddy, and cheerleader. Jack doesn’t verbalize his feelings, never mentions your name anymore, and he’s long since given up on asking his dad to invite you over. He understands you and his father are no longer together, but it makes him sad that he never got to say goodbye.

Jack found his own way to connect with you; he keeps a little journal and writes you letters daily. He writes about his nightmares and how his dad tucks him in and gives him a special hug so he can sleep tight. Jack asks you to come back for his next birthday and promises you a seat next to him. He never mails them, wondering who he can ask for help with that or how on Earth he would find your new house to send it to. Instead, Jack settles for pretending to mail the letters and imagining all the cool letters you would write back. He keeps his letters safely tucked away in a shoe box under his bed at his dad’s house. 

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊱⊰⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

It’s a quiet afternoon when Aaron comes home from work. He robotically begins his regular post-work routine: shower, put his clothes in the wash, cook for himself and Jack, and eat. Mid-meal, his mind is thinking of ways to make the rest of the day go as smoothly as possible, and he decides to look for Jack’s shin guards so they can be on time for once. 

After sifting around the boy’s room for nearly ten minutes, he looks under the bed.

He finds a shoe box he’s certain should contain the shin guards but is surprised to find a stack of papers instead. As Aaron sits on Jack’s twin-sized bed, his signature frown appears as he wonders why Jack would keep his homework in such an unusual spot.

His eyebrows shoot up, and his breath catches as he reads the same line on all of the pages: ‘Dear, Y/N’

Aaron sits in the same spot for nearly an hour, reading every last letter. He lets his tears fall freely, careful not to stain any pages. His broken heart never recovered from your breakup, and now Aaron feels the pieces of his heart shatter even further. He places all the letters neatly back in the box with shaky hands as he sits, thoughts swirling in his mind. 

He realizes he robbed his son of a friend and a wonderful role model. He regrets not speaking more with Jack about this, and half of him regrets invading his son’s privacy in this way.

The other half is overwhelmed with emotion and a tiny sliver of joy as this is Aaron’s final push over the edge. He feels compelled by every fibre of his being to find you and make this right. His mind runs a million miles a minute, devising a plan. He immediately decides against asking Garcia to track you down, but contacting you on his own will be difficult as you’ve blocked him on everything imaginable.

Aaron slowly walks to his office, hands in his pocket as he stares out the window. He decides to take a page out of Jack’s book and write you a letter, silently praying you haven’t somehow managed to block his email too. Aaron exhales and begins pouring his heart out on the screen as he types away. 

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊱⊰⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

You stare at your phone screen, baffled. At first, you think your mind is playing tricks on you, but the email is very much real and very much from the man your heart still yearns for. 

You don’t even bother finding a place to sit as the world around you slows and fades away. You read the entire email in Aaron’s voice. He asks to meet at a botanical garden in the city, where the two of you first met and where you often went together for clarity and peace of mind.

“Excuse me, you dropped this”

You turn around to meet the most handsome man you’ve ever seen. He’s breathtaking, tall and dark-haired but looks out of place wearing a three-piece suit and- wait, is that a Gucci tie?!

He clears his throat, and you jump a little, silently cursing yourself for staring.

“Sorry, yes, that’s mine. Thank you, sir.”

He laughs, and the sound has you nearly dissolving on the spot. “You can call me Aaron.”

“I’m Y/N. A bit overdressed, aren’t you, Aaron” you add teasingly.

He smiles, “I’m here to see a venus fly trap, actually.”

When you look at him curiously, he clarifies, “it’s for my son, it’s his latest fascination, and I want to prove to him that they are here stateside.” 

“That’s adorable! They’re actually kept on the northern side of the garden, it’s a bit of a walk from here, but I could show you. I don’t mind.” 

“As long as I can return the favour, let me get you a coffee.”

“Sure, Aaron, I’d love that” you’re a giggling, blushing mess as you walk toward your destination.

“You come here often?”

“Oh, all the time.”

“Excuse me, you gonna place an order or what?” The annoyed barista pulls you back into reality; she rolls her eyes as you fluster about, quickly giving your order and rushing to the side.

You read his email over and over again, on your way home, out on the porch, in the kitchen, on the sofa, while you brush your teeth. You’re unsure how to respond or what to think, but you can’t deny the burst of joy you got from knowing he still thinks of you and wants to see you. In your healing journey, you’ve learned to let go of things. You don’t harbour any anger or ill will towards him now, almost a year later, but the pain is still there, and you know it will hurt to see him again. You don’t answer his email.

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊱⊰⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

Aaron stands in the exact spot where the two of you first locked eyes, hands in his pocket and eyes scanning the area frantically. It’s been twenty minutes already, but he’s not ready to lose hope. 

You walk in directly behind him, and as soon as you see the back of his head, the shoulders you love dearly, all that fills your heart is warmth and love. You take a deep breath and will yourself to have some decorum as you approach him. 

“Hi, Aaron.” He whips his head around, and there you are, standing to his right, so divine, radiating a sense of serenity. He almost can’t believe you’re here and nearly cries at the sight of you.

“Hi, Angel.” His voice is soft and mellow. He meant to take it slow, and pet names certainly weren’t part of the plan. But he can’t help himself; in his eyes, you are an actual angel, and your presence before him only solidifies that.

He stares at you for a full minute before rambling into another apology. You reach out to lightly touch his forearm. “Aaron, I accept your apology. I’m willing to let bygones be bygones. But it still hurts. I know it’s been almost a year, and I really thought I was over it, but seeing you today, I-” You look up at him with doe eyes. Truthfully, you have no idea what’s happening; the only thought in your mind is that you still love him.

Aaron feels his heart clench at your words. “There’s no time limit on your healing Y/N. I am sorry for asking you here today, that was selfish of me, and I should let you heal and thrive in peace.” 

You grasp onto his forearm once again. “You didn’t force me here, Aaron. I came by choice, and I wanted to see you too.” You feel embarrassed at your mixed signals. One minute you’re telling him you’re still hurt, and the next, you want to see him.

“Y/N, I am the happiest man on Earth today because you accepted my apology. Thank you for coming to see me. I am willing to do any and everything possible for even the smallest chance to have you in my life again, in any capacity. I know it’s a huge ask, I understand and respect your decision, but I’m asking you all the same, Y/N.” He’s on one knee and brings both hands to hold yours gently. 

You can tell by the look on his face that he is sincerely pleading with you. “Aaron, I don’t know if we can ever go back to how things were. It will take time, but I’m okay with us as friends.” 

He feels tears streaming down his cheeks, and you tug at his arms, motioning for him to stand.

“Thank you, Y/N, thank you. Take all the time you need, whatever you need. I am more than happy to be your friend again, Y/N.” He looks at you with a bashful smile, and you feel your cheeks heat up. You share a hug, one that conveys reconnection and love.

For the next few months, you and Aaron work to slowly rebuild the relationship. You’re in a comfortable space again, not entirely platonic but not romantic either in the physical sense. Aaron has been very respectful and accommodating of your boundaries. He wants nothing more than to kiss you all over and worship every square inch of your body to show how much he loves and misses you, but he is more than happy to keep those feelings at bay and share what you allow. 

You’ve secretly been dying to ask about Jack. Still, you’re understandably uncomfortable broaching the subject, so you’ve decided to leave the ball in his court.

Aaron wants to reunite you and Jack more than ever, but he’s afraid you only want him back in your life and nothing to do with Jack or Haley. It breaks his heart all over again, but he has no idea how to bring it up to you. 

A Snapchat memory from a year ago, where you and Jack visited an aquarium, is your last straw. You decide enough is enough, reminding yourself that avoiding uncomfortable topics is exactly how things unfolded the last time.

Later that day, you’re out for lunch with Aaron, and you ask about Jack. Aaron is shocked at your question but glad all the same. “He’s good, Y/N. He really misses you.” You give him a sad smile, and his tone tells you there’s something he’s holding back. You reach out to hold his hand, a silent cue that you’re willing to listen.

When Aaron finally tells you about the letters he found, you break down in tears, feeling lightheaded and guilty for not saying bye, leaving Jack without closure or explanation. By cutting Aaron out of your life, you also cut Jack out by proxy.

Aaron is at your side in a heartbeat, holding your hand and coaching you to breathe. He reassures you that it’s not your fault, that it was a series of unfortunate events that were out of your control, and that Jack will be more than happy to see you now.

“Before we go further, I want to clarify a few things. Jack is my son, and you are my partne- friend,” he corrects himself, offering you a shy apologetic smile.

“You are my friend, and you mean so much to me, Y/N. When it comes to Jack, I want you to be involved in whatever capacity you feel comfortable. As his father, I feel comfortable with the two of you spending time together and you correcting him if the need arises. You are not compelled to parent him, and if there is anything you feel unsure about, please let me know.”

You smile, grateful to hear his words.

“That means a lot. Thank you, Aaron. I want to speak with Haley first if that’s okay with you. She’s Jack’s mother, and I want to clear the air with her before I barge my way back into her child’s life again.”

“You’re not barging into anything, Angel. You’re always welcome here.” He says softly. “If that’s what you want, I’ll set it up, Y/N.”

Your conversation with Haley goes better than you imagined. She apologizes for her behaviour, and you clarify that you are in no way trying to replace or compete with her role in Jack’s life. The two of you end on a positive note with a mutual interest in Jack’s well-being and happiness. 

⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯⊱⊰⋯⋯⋯⋯⋯

“Y/N! You came! Y/N is here, guys!” Jack nearly topples you over in a hug.

“Happy Birthday Jack! My goodness, how did you grow so fast!” He giggles, dragging you to sit next to him.“Corn and lots of warm milk.”

Laughter erupts through the room, and you stare at him lovingly. When Jack proclaims this as ‘the best birthday in the world,’ you realize this is home. 

At the end of the party, Jack makes you pinky promise not to leave him again without saying goodbye. The two of you lock pinkies. “I don’t plan on leaving anytime soon, but if anything were to change, I promise to talk to you about it, Jack.” He nods enthusiastically, “because that’s what families do!” 

“That’s exactly right, Jack.” You hold him close and plant a kiss on top of his head.

Later that night, you notice Aaron acting strangely and spacing out.  

“What’s wrong, Aaron?”

“Jack called you family” you hear the slight break in his voice and see that his eyes are glazed over. You walk over to engulf him in a hug. “Is that okay with you?” he asks gently.

“You and Jack are my family, Aaron, and this is my home.” Your statement puts the last piece of Aaron’s broken heart into place, and it makes him feel whole again. 

The two of you share your first kiss again, though it’s decidedly sweeter the second time.

 *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ

Thank you all so much for your enthusiasm for this story ♡ its been quite the ride for the these two, I think they deserve this happy ending :) Your support and feedback means the world thanks for reading ♡

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[prime-adeptus]

NOTHING IS LOST (YOU GIVE ME STRENGTH) – FUSHIGURO MEGUMI & READER

As minimal as this may seem, you wonder if he knows how much it means to you that he came. Your days have been lonely with you feeling increasingly out of touch with everything, but everything feels fine with Megumi by your side. Or, the one where you find your way back home.

TAGS.⠀gender-neutral reader; ambiguous relationship; childhood friends; aged-up au/canon divergence; brief smoking; angst & hurt/comfort; mental health issues, talks of death/suicide ideation, implied past suicide attempts; mild gore; near-death experiences; drifting apart and coming back together. hopeful/happy ending. SFW. 3,9k words

A/N.⠀my first work after so long and it's just a ventfic LOL sorry i have been looping phoebe bridgers and lorde for ages.

CROSS-POSTED ON AO3

For as long as you can remember, you’ve always felt things fervently.

One moment you’d feel euphoric, like you’re walking on air and nothing can get you down, but then everything crumbles and you’re left as nothing but an empty husk. It’s ironic how emptiness can feel so heavy, a constant weight on your shoulders, constant tugs at your heartstrings. 

Despite all the things you hate about yourself, there’s still one part of you that you’ll always remember with pride: there is no limit to the unconditional love you can give to people. It’s taken some time for you to decide you want to live and love as much as you can. 

But for some reasons you couldn’t fathom, these days, you feel as though your love is forced. Unnatural. Ingenuine. Like it’s just something you’ve gotten used to doing passively. Like you no longer believe, like you are living a lie. 

In a way, maybe you are. The longer you are surrounded by your fellow Jujutsu sorcerers, the more aware you become of how rotten this world can get. Plagued with death, unhappiness and turmoil on every corner, and with humans repeating the same mistakes, you’ve begun to believe that this is all hopeless. You’re well aware that it’s quite a pessimistic view to hold, but in the world that you are in, you find that it keeps you grounded. A realist. 

Or, as your beloved teacher Gojo Satoru would call you, a downer.

The sound of his voice referring to you as such makes you click your tongue in irritation. There’s not much you know about him, but the bitter part of you believes that  he  of all people should at least understand how you feel. You hold your position as a jujutsu sorcerer in high regard and with honour, but as time passes by, you’ve started to contemplate if it’s even worth it at all.

You wonder if people know that you weren’t always this way — as a child, you were bright-eyed and innocent, full of love for people and the world. Growing and going through life shattered it all, making you a husk of what you once were, and even now, you still don’t know who you’re supposed to be.

You lie and you cheat, tricking people into believing that you’re independent and fine on your own, but you are lonelier than words can describe.

And just what do you live for? You’ve survived time and time again by sheer instinct and reflex, but you still don’t know what your purpose is. You fight and you risk your life to keep other people safe at the cost of your wellbeing. Every day is a task to complete for the greater good, but what’s in store for you? You’ve grown distant from your parents — on your end, anyway; it’s difficult to read people — and your once close friends rarely contact you anymore. All you have are your peers, but you still feel so out of place among them. 

The cigarette burns between your fingers as you stare off into space by the edge of the river. At the mere age of nineteen, you feel as though you’ve lived several lives, all of which have harrowed you to no end. Nicotine flows in your system as you take yet another drag, wondering if this is what your youth was meant to be. Years of saving the city in favour of feeling like you’re wanted, needed should’ve made you feel happy. Yet here you are, alone in the streets of Tokyo, all because there’s nothing waiting for you at home.

“I didn’t know you smoked,” a voice says from beside you. It’s deep and quiet, almost monotonous, but you’d recognise the hint of concern anywhere. Megumi slightly grimaces at the sight of you exhaling a cloud of smoke.

“I don’t.” With a scoff, you put out the cigarette in the ashtray and turn to face him instead. “How’d you know I’d be here?”

He frowns. It amuses you how it seems to have been a permanent expression etched on his face since you were kids. You don’t remember if you’ve ever seen him with a different look, but that’s on you, you suppose. You haven’t spent much time with him for a while now. Time ages you and your weariness distances you from those you wish to stay close to.

When he doesn’t reply, you speak up again, “I'm trying.”

“I know.” He glances at you. As blunt as he sounds, you know he means well; that’s just the way he is. He looks like he has more to say but he doesn’t, instead opting to hand you a packet of your favourite mints. Any other time you’d take it as an insult, but you find yourself getting sentimental over the fact that he still remembers what you like. 

“Thanks,” you mumble, popping one into your mouth. “Sorry, it’s been a long day.”

The corner of his lips quirks downward for a split second. With a quiet sigh, he lightly flicks your forehead, not reacting at all to the indignant yelp you let out. 

“Where’s your jacket?” he asks in a chiding tone, though there isn’t any venom in it. “You’ll get sick. I don’t want you sneezing on me.”

“You always take care of me, though,” you grumble without thinking, putting on the jacket that was previously tied around your waist. Another beat passes before you realise what you’ve blurted out. Were you being too familiar with him? You’re not sure if he still wants to be friends after all that isolation you’ve been doing. You part your lips to apologise, but he interrupts with a huff and a flick to your forehead again.

“Shut up.” The pink flush on the tips of his ears betrays the irked expression he wears. You’re not sure whether it’s because of the chilly air or if it’s because he’s blushing, but it brings a smile to your face nonetheless. “Let’s go back.”

As minimal as this may seem, you wonder if he knows how much it means to you that he came. Your days have been lonely with you feeling increasingly out of touch with everything, but everything feels fine with Megumi by your side.

You were only twelve when you started seeing Curses everywhere you went.

You’d never been the type to get scared too easily, but there was something about those creatures that unsettled you to the core. They seemed horrifically disfigured and hungry, ready to pounce at any moment, and you could only be brave for so long. You tried telling your mother and your friends only to be met with suspicious and concerned looks. 

They thought you were crazy. You didn’t blame them for that. You never believed in the paranormal, so this sudden change must’ve been quite a shock. It wasn’t until two years later did you learn what they were and that you could exorcise them, somehow like they did in the horror movies. Your memory of your recruitment is hazy, but you did remember sitting with Megumi and Gojo in the car and asking the most questions you’ve ever asked in your lifetime. Your new teacher found it amusing; your classmate, however, did not.

Your mother didn’t seem to mind sending you to a boarding school. With an elaborate lie about your full scholarship told by Gojo, she’d beamed in joy and helped you pack your bags. She’d be too busy to actually notice your absence, but that didn’t stop her from sending a message to check in on you every once in a while. At some point, you stopped responding. Not because you were annoyed, but rather, you just didn’t have the energy to.

Ironically, for a school with quite a handful of staff and students, you never felt lonelier in your life. You stuck by Megumi’s side for the sole reason that he was the only one you felt comfortable enough to approach. You didn’t talk to him much, but he was good company and you came to consider him a friend. Eventually, he started approaching you as well, and you’d spend time together like regular friends would do. It felt nice to be able to be around someone and not have to explain yourself all the time. 

In hindsight, you think it’s your fault that you’re so distant from everyone now. You don’t quite know when it all began—the depressing thoughts, the near-uncontrollable impulses, the lack of care for your safety and well-being. Every time your teachers or a peer brought it up, you’d simply dismiss it as just a ‘hormone thing’ which seemed enough to make them stop asking. Megumi didn’t believe a thing. He doesn’t have to tell you for you to know that.

But what else could you do? You’re alone, and it’s not like anyone can help with whatever the fuck is happening in your head. Your mother got you in touch with professionals to help with your troubles, and even if she doesn’t say it much, you know she’s always worried sick and thinks you should just come home. You’ve been able to keep yourself in check since then, but with the sadness now mostly gone, you now have to deal with the void in your chest that plagues you constantly.

The forest surrounding the dormitories is quiet save for the leaves rustling in the wind and the cicadas chirping their evening tune. You’re not sure how long it’s been since your last official mission. You haven’t been good at keeping track of the time for a while now. But at the very least, you know that it’s been too long.

There’s no doubt Gojo had something to do with it, you think bitterly. Otherwise, you’d be as busy as your peers right now. If there’s one thing you hate about this place, it’s the fact that no one here ever really gives you a proper reason. You feel trapped, ignored, and maybe if you were more carefree you’d look past it, but you’re not. If they didn’t believe in your abilities, you’d show them; you don’t think being the underdog is that bad, after all. Maybe they’ll finally recognise your prowess and respect you.

With your heart pounding hard against your chest, you grab your ootachi and flee, letting your instincts guide you to wherever feels the most dangerous, exciting. The more rational part of you tells you that you’re going to be in trouble if you don’t turn back now, but you find that you really couldn’t care less.

You need to feel alive. You need to feel afraid, to feel something, anything. While you don’t mind resting, you also didn’t overwork yourself to the bone just to remain stagnant. You didn’t spend weeks training with every weapon the school had to offer just to let them rust. You didn’t hone your cursed techniques only to not use them at all. So punishment and criticism be damned, you’re going to do what you want whether people like it or not.

You find yourself standing in front of a dingy abandoned shrine in the woods. Unease settles in the air as you slowly creep into the light of the moon. It’s dim, incredibly so, but you can’t afford to be afraid of the dark now —you have something to prove, and you’re not going to let yourself be intimidated by something so childish. There are blood splatters on the cobblestone steps, both fresh and dried, and your grip tightens on the handle of your sword. Your instinct to fight rears its head within your body, adrenaline and the humane need to survive rushing through your veins, but you breathe and try to rein it all in.

You have to think.

(It’s quite ironic how for someone who doesn’t give a single shit about their life, you always fight your hardest so you can live.)

You take another step. A twig snaps beneath the weight of your foot. The dried leaves crunch and rustle like someone (or rather, something) is sizing you up, keeping itself unseen to take you by surprise. Incomprehensible gargled sentences echo from within and the stench of death and decay grows stronger. Even when fear starts to wrap you in its cold embrace, you walk through the gate and into the dark shrine. Your blood runs cold and your breath gets caught in your throat, but you force yourself to face the task at hand.

You’re met with a grotesque mass of green; all of its endless bloodshot eyes leer at you as its tendrils slither in your direction. Misshapen hands protrude from those tendrils and reach for you, taunting you with the blood and entrails stuck to their skin and nails, telling you that you are next. 

Not today.

An aura of black and purple coats your sword as you withdraw it from its sheath. It’s not the best space to utilise such a long sword—the shrine is somewhat cramped and is lacking in space for mobility, much less combat —but you grit your teeth and decide that you will adapt. Electricity crackles from your blade, and without any more hesitation, you charge. Its tendrils are faster than you had anticipated; they come close to wrapping themselves around your legs until your cursed energy latches on to them and forces them to disintegrate.

The curse glares at you in fury. You can practically hear your heartbeat as you slash through its tendrils, splattering the wooden floors with its steaming blood. A guttural growl leaves the curse and the air feels thicker; it’s getting hard to breathe and your vision is starting to fade. 

Am I going to die here?

There’s a sharp pain in your gut. The sword slips out of your grasp and blood sputters out of your lips. When you look down, you realise that the curse has pierced through you.

It hurts it hurts it hurts it fucking hurts.

But you can’t die here. Not like this, not without a fight.

Shakily, weakly, you put your hands together, breathe, and with the last of your strength, you fire a powerful blast that hits the curse square in the centre, making it screech in pain. Vapour rises from its form as it melts into the ground and eventually dissipates. A relieved sigh leaves you, but then the world spins, your body hurts even more, and before you know it, everything goes dark.

You fall into nothing.

(Somewhere not too far from the shrine, apprehension crawls into Fushiguro Megumi’s system.

He doesn’t hesitate. He follows the curse residue and he runs.)

You wake with a dull ache between your ribs.

The first thing you see is never-ending walls of white. There’s a generic decorative painting on the wall along with an old clock that tells you it’s a quarter past noon. Blearily, you realise that you’re in the infirmary, and judging from the soreness that spreads through your body and into your limbs, you’re still alive.

Somehow, you’re not as happy about it as you should be.

You feel like you’ve been through hell and back. In a way, you did. You’re too tired to regret your poor decisions from who knows how long ago, and you’re not a stranger to deliberately ignoring whatever makes you feel like shit. So you do just that all while staring blankly at the wall in front of you, hoping that you’ll eventually fall asleep again and forget. Maybe even not wake up until the month ends.

(You’ve come to a realisation that you don’t want to die anymore; you just want to stop existing for a while, get yourself together then come back when you’re ready. Like pausing a game or a video being played, you don’t lose the progress, but you sure as hell forget what the hell happened earlier.)

The door slides open. You contemplate pretending to be unconscious again, but your ears pick up heavy footfalls on the tiled floor and you decide maybe you shouldn’t. 

“Hey, Ieiri-sensei,” you croak out, weakly raising two of your fingers in a peace sign. “I’m alive and moving.”

She hums, amused as she makes her way over to your bedside. “Yes, you are. How are you feeling?”

“Like shit?”

“Good. You would’ve been dead if Fushiguro-kun hadn’t found you. Can you stand?”

She gently urges you off the bed, hoisting you up by the shoulders as you try to maintain balance after being bedridden for hours. Or days. Or even weeks. You’re not sure.

“You’ve been unconscious for three days.”

The concerning duration of your bedridden state goes completely ignored. All you can think about is the mention of Megumi. 

You would’ve been dead if Fushiguro-kun hadn’t found you. 

“What do you mean he found me?”

She smiles wryly. “That boy’s been worried about you. Ran off from Satoru as soon as he felt a ‘weird pressure.’ What were you fighting?”

You shrug and wince at how stiff you feel. God, you hate this. Your legs are shaky as she helps you walk out of the infirmary and on the familiar path back to the dormitories. The school is quiet, making you wonder where everyone’s gone for the day.

“Some curse thing. Had tentacles and slimy skin. It was gross.”

“Well, that thing punctured you right there.” She gestures toward your chest. “Surprisingly it didn’t hit any vital organs, but you still lost a lot of blood. Did you exorcise it in the end?”

“I did.” A beat of silence passes. “Am I in trouble?”

“Yaga-sensei’s suspended you for a month. Oh, Fushiguro-kun. Just in time.” She helps you sit on a stone bench as Megumi approaches, his fingers furling and then relaxing by his sides. “They still need some support when they’re walking, but they’re healing quickly. They’ll be fine..”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“I’m still in my thirties, silly.” She ruffles your hair affectionately. “Be careful, hm? Come see me if there’s anything else.”

As Ieiri-sensei takes her leave, Megumi sits down next to you on the bench. His brows furrow the same way they always do when he’s thinking of how to say something nicely. He opts for silence instead, eyeing you cautiously. It almost feels offensive, but it’s only then that you’re aware of the bandages that cover essentially your whole upper body, so you brush it off. If someone else were in your position, you’d be worried sick too.

You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this visibly upset (well, for someone like Megumi anyway) over anything, and knowing that it’s because of you strikes you with a pang of guilt. With your lips pursed, you avoid his demanding look and glance at your hands instead. The bruises have almost faded away by now. Ieiri-sensei must’ve worked herself to the bone to patch you up.

“I’m not happy, Megumi.” Your throat closes up and your nose burns as the tears start to form and fall. “I’ve been trying to force myself to feel something. It didn’t matter what it was. I just hate being like this all the time.”

It hurts to cry. It hurts trying not to. Your state of mind is in tatters and you’re desperately doing your best to hold yourself together, but the way he’s looking at you makes you drop your guard completely.

“I know I’m surrounded by people, but I still feel so alone.”

Megumi doesn’t say anything. That’s fine, you think. The last thing you’d want to do is pressure him to speak his mind. He takes every word into consideration and thinks a lot by default, and if he’s still the same boy you knew all those years ago, he’d prefer to let his actions speak for themselves. 

“You didn’t have to come for me,” you murmur. “I’m sure you’ve got things to do.”

“No.” He pauses for a moment as if he’s trying to formulate what he wants to say into words that won’t feel like jabs. He huffs quietly. “I want to stay with you.”

Hearing him say those words practically has you melting on the spot, your heart fluttering as warmth rushes to your cheeks. You reach for his hand instinctively and with the slightest bit of hesitation, he responds by lacing your fingers together. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out barely above a whisper. You don’t know if it’s because you’re still exhausted or if it’s because you’re worried you’ll upset him somehow. Either way, it takes so much out of you just to talk anymore. “I’m trying.”

He squeezes your hand softly. “I know.”

“I say that to you a lot, don’t I?” you chuckle, leaning against his shoulder. I’m trying. You tell it to him every time you don’t have anything else to say, but it hardly feels true. Or maybe you’re just overly critical of everything you do, expecting yourself to reach certain heights before you consider yourself enough. 

“You are trying,” Megumi says. “Even now.”

You smile weakly. “You think so?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t.” He lets go of your hand and your heart sinks, wondering if you’d done or said something wrong, but then he gently flicks your forehead the same way he always used to do when you were kids. “I found you bleeding out on the ground.”

“Pretty gnarly, wasn’t it?” you joke, laughing nervously. He shoots you a glare that shuts you up immediately.

“We were worried about you,” he continues, ignoring your interruption. “I was worried about you. I thought you were going to die.”

“Is this the part where I tell you that all jujutsu sorcerers die at some point?”

“No.”

“I’m sorry,” you say meekly, “I didn’t know I was that important to you.”

“We grew up together.” You feel a slight weight as he rests your head on top of yours with a sigh. “You’ve always been with me. I don’t know what I’d do if you weren’t there.”

It’s unusual for him to be this open about his feelings; he’s never been the overly sentimental type like you are, so to have him be this vulnerable with you makes you feel like you’re going to burst. The cool breeze passes by as you hesitantly take his hand again, and for the first time in so long, you find yourself genuinely smiling. He cares about you. He loves you, despite what that voice in your head tells you otherwise. It’ll take a while for you to change or get used to knowing these things, but for him, you’ll do everything you can. You’ll live — if not for yourself, then for him. And as slow and tedious as your path to recovery may be, both physically and mentally, you think that it’ll be worth the endeavour because you’re not alone. 

You are loved.

You are loved by him, and for now, that is enough to quell every anxiety in the back of your mind.

You glance at him. “Wanna watch a movie later?” 

Almost imperceptibly, he smiles back. “Sure.”

(You never end up finishing the movie.

Halfway through, exhaustion gets the better of you, and you fall into a deep sleep on the bean bag you borrowed from the recreation room. When you wake in the morning, you’re sore and aching all over, but the blanket draped over your frame and the arm around your waist makes you forget about it for a moment.

With a content smile, you curl closer.

He’s still the same Megumi you’ve always known.)

[wubwubnparmaham]

For centuries, my foremothers fought bravely and tirelessly to bring us to where we have gotten, to the mere concept of where we could be, and among the unfeeling and unjust men of this nation, my fellow women were adamant to tear it away, too. That hurts more than anything men could ever do.

I understand the exhaustion with the hyperpartisan debacle of this nation; with the feckless refusal for the Democratic party to live up to a single promise it ever makes. I understand the frustration and the pain that comes with picking the lesser of two evils.

But what I cannot understand is your complicity in the unthinkable. I will not let you look me in my eyes and justify your decision to choose the greater evil instead. May our eyes never meet again.

To these women, I want you to understand that you have voted against your interests, and the interests of your fellow sisters. I want you to understand that you, through the haze of the illusion of security, are not safe. Things can happen to you, assaults, miscarriages, gender discrimination, and so much more, and you will find no solace or support in this administration. When you, in all your jubilation at having secured the perfect Godly America, are the one in need of help, you will find closed doors. Because you handed unchecked power to the ones in the positions to slam them.

There will come a time, as it always does, that you will finally see the tenets of your religion are not represented in the values of the elite. And dare I say, are not represented in your own ideals of morality. The elite and their sweet whispers of properity as they are ever taking from you in the dark.

Now in the light. They are not your friends, they are certainly not your saviors, and you disgrace yourselves to call them your heroes.

Politics and religion do not and cannot blend, as the sin of greed and a lust for power are by no stretch the two most salient pillars that exalt the root of all evil, and they are inseparably embedded within American politics. You have handed the keys to a background organization, the Heritage Foundation, to use every flowery talking point under the sun to enact merciless oppression in the very name of that accurséd greed and power, and you have done it with a smile.

Every shred of this rhetoric has been sold to you through an exterior lens of altruism and holiness, and every part of it overlies the true nature of intent.

Found there in its stead is the underbelly of their crazed desire for ultimate power-acquisition, all for a select few with which you will never be included. You will never sit at their table. You will die beneath the indomitable height of it, and others in minority groups will die much quicker than you. That is the only thing you have ensured.

Let me be perfectly clear. Protecting the children is a farce, protecting the economy is a farce, protecting the sanctity of Christianity is most certainly a farce and protecting "Great American Values", undeniably rooted in white supremacy and male power, can only, in every way possible, be a farce. They know this, and they laugh at your misguided hope in them to uphold it. You, the jesters of their greatest source of entertainment.

And so I curse you. As you watch your marginalized loved ones suffer, know that you caused it. Know that you are eternally at odds with them as human beings regardless of what you tell yourself in your most defensive and sanctimonious moments. Know that you cannot love the sinner if you truly hate the sin in any meaningful way that paves any path for harmony, freedom, goodness or equality. Know that your love or acceptance of anything and anyone you voted to oppress is vapid and worthless, and know that I spit upon in disappointment and exhausted heartbreak.

Know that you have deeply and irrevocably hurt us, and you have hurt yourselves. You have given glory to those who would not share it with you, even for an ephemeral moment of time. You are protecting nothing, you have risked everything, and I am sick of you.

May it be too late for your own redemption when you finally realize what it is that you have done. I curse you with a thousand mirrors, reflecting and echoing your choices back to you for as long as you live, no matter what may come.

[coffeenonsense]

I usually try to stay in my lane most of the time (mostly bc I am far too old for fandom drama) but what the hell, it's friday, let's put that lit degree to use:

the way people are playing morality politics with fiction is really starting to genuinely irk me and I think some of the responses to ascended astarion are a perfect example of why this type of thinking is actually hugely detrimental to one's ability to meaningfully engage with fiction and also to the future of art.

astarion is one of the most well-written complex characters I've seen in recent years bar none (and I'm clearly not alone given the explosion of his personal fandom lol) and he has a truly compelling, emotionally resonant character arc whether you ascend him or not

If you keep him a spawn, you get a deeply touching, realistic character's journey to healing and personal growth where he learns who he is after the experience of his trauma and depending on the player's choice, explores his relationship to sex, romance and intimacy

If you ascend astarion, you get an equally emotional and well-rounded character arc where he chooses the power that allows him to have the desperate freedom and safety he's wanted, but in the process eschews any hope of real healing or personal development, and again, depending on the player's choices, restarts the cycle of abuse by taking cazador's place.

These options offer vastly different paths for the character and experiences for the player, but while yes, ascended astarion is the evil ending, and yes, ascending astarion is a tragedy, and a fucking incredible one (not only do you have astarion reigniting a circle of abuse but you have the narrative weight of KNOWING he could have actually overcome his trauma...hats off to the bg3 team tbh) but that does not mean ascending astarion MAKES YOU AS THE PLAYER EVIL

Ascend astarion because you love tragic story arcs, ascend him because you want to indulge in a master/slave vampire fantasy, don't ascend him because you want a healing character journey, don't ascend him because you want a sweet romance; all of these choices carry the same moral weight for the player, which is to say, none, because they are an exploration of fiction.

I know I'm saying this to the villain fucker website but it bears repeating; just because someone wants to engage with evil, fucked up characters or content does not mean they support evil acts in their real life, and furthermore, exploring dark, taboo or tragic concepts safely is part of what fiction is for. It enables us to look at those things from a distance, work through difficult feelings and develop greater understanding of what makes our fellow humans tick — and before you get it twisted there's also no moral issue with exploring fucked up media bc you're horny or just, because. You can take it as seriously (or as sexily) as you want.

It's starting to really concern me how many people not only do not get, but are violently opposed to this concept, because equating what someone likes in fiction with their real life moral code and actions is an incredibly dangerous and let's be honest, immature way of thinking that not only stunts your ability to engage with fiction but ironically, hampers your ability to deal with complicated issues and emotions in real life.

I don't know what's driving this trend (though purity culture is certainly playing a role) but it's definitely something that's not just impacting individuals but contributing to the commercialization of art, where we get games and stories and tv shows and books that regurgitate the same safe, mass marketable plotlines and character archetypes over and over and over again so corporations can squeeze out as much profit as possible.

Anyway, remember kids: There's no such thing as thought crime, reaching for morally pure unproblematic media is directly contributing to the death of art, and this is why funding the humanities is important.

[milk-ducts]

I'm so glad to have encountered a fellow Cecil stan. I freaking love coming up with headcanons for Cecil, platonic or romantic, because he's such an interesting character. For real though feel free to dump any Cecil headcanons (platonic or romantic) on me anytime.

AWAAAA!! YES HAII OTHER CECIL AFICIONADO !!! im so glad theres more of us sprouting out here. my wife is so underappreciated, you have no idea how much he means to me. i'd love to req n swap headcanons anytime !! I have so many thoughts on that morally ambiguous gilf.

[messy, disorganized surface level autism rambling ahead. this will be just random scenes and characteristics i like of him]

BUT YES .. cecil's character is just so interesting to analyze. he does unethical, necessary things. But he doesn't subscribe to idealistic notions of "the greater good" or justifying his actions to make himself sleep better at night. He knows the harsh reality that someone has to make the difficult decisions, no matter how unethical. The psychological toll it takes to calculate how many civilian lives can be spared, and how many are inevitably lost in order to achieve the optimal outcome. He doesn't celebrate after victories like the other heroes do. After the dust settles, his mind is already racing - calculating, strategizing how to prevent future catastrophes. How to minimize casualties next time.

his methods are...questionable,, as ive said,, but there's a hint of nobility to it that just makes you respect him, A SHADY GOVERNMENT CHAR that does the dirty work and takes in all the heat for it so no one else has to? SIGN ME TF UP! i love exploring his character and all the little glimpses of humanity we get to see from him,, especially with debbie, SO SOFT FOR HER, there's so much depth there. that old fuck would MOVE mountains for her if he could,, TRUST. EVEN though he doesnt deserve her .. <<

LETS CONTINUE TO CIRCLE BACK TO S1 with his confrontation w Nolan in the desert, the way he entrusted his survival to the skills of his team operating that teleporter watch (I'm aware he can control it himself, I think this was just my interpretation of it since the employees seemed directly involved here). The margin for error was nonexistent. One miscalculation, one millisecond too slow, and Cecil would have been reduced to a red smear across miles of sand. MY WIFE HAS BALLS ON HIM. (also love walton goggins breathy lil giggles here .. hwaghffhh)

All this, All the whilst Nolan could have ended him with a casual backhand, as easily as swatting a fly. And for what? For humanity's (mostly his) right to know the truth. For Debbie's right to understand what she had truly married because Cecil respects her that fucking much for her to have a part in all of this, and what fate may lay in store for her son.

AND what I particularly liked about that scene is that unlike most SHADY GOV CHARS ™.. Cecil isn't afraid to regularly place himself in life-threatening situations, and for that im just.. FKING obsessed. finally. a hyper competent gov char that gets shit done and occasionally by his own hands instead of always puppeteering in the shadows. Love u .. love u honey snooch, please stop putting yourself in danger for your crazy alien side-hoes .

but ahem ... back to s2.. and some flaws of his that i'm not afraid to point out. the way he's been treating mark is killing me. manipulating my son by comparing him to his dad then keeping him on lock by saying he's not like him??? The breadcrumming definitely didn't work out at all, cuz Mark is too damn stubborn to continue to be swindled by fear tactics he does not give a shit for anymore (homegirl DEBBIE taught him better) hes not gonna listen to a cranky skullet-having side bitch of nolans who clearly has been tryna manipulate him since s1. i HATED how he went "ur broke tyrannical bitch father felt the same way" in the last minute when mark tried to leave earth and yet i still lobve ceci cause ough,,.. my bastard wife knew something was probably up.

Him wanting to keep a short leash on MARKY could be summed up after all that has happened in s1. i'm not going to justify his scummy manipulations or paranoia,, especially after all the shit mark has done and endured to prove himself over and over again that he's not like his father BUT its somewhat understandable for cecil 2 be wary if you look from it in his perspective.

moving on from that, lets dive back into ep 2 ..

Debbie was semi-right in her deduction in s2 ep2, that this is what it's really all about for Cecil - being in control. Not of any situation, but of Mark. To ensure history does not repeat itself in the form of Mark becoming another Nolan. imo He likely doesn’t actually view Mark as his father, Not saying the possibility of it being a part of Cecil's subconsciousness is out of the equation but the way I see it? He was just exploiting that one weakness, that one insecurity Mark has - the fear of becoming like Nolan. And it’s a fear Cecil seemed to prey upon to keep Mark under his thumb and in the fucking GAME.

awaaaa :3 !!!! psychologically damaging teens by comparing them to their abhorrently shitty fathers !! FUCK YOJ STEDMAN (love you snookums..)

,,,,I'd also like to think in my warped deluded perception (aka hcs) that he sees Debbie in Mark, so he can't help but care for the kid too. IVE ALWAYS seen a lot of comparisons between Mark and his dad, plus the whole motif of this new season hasn't helped it allay. But Debbie and Mark share so many similar characteristics as well and i wish that was talked a bit more often &lt; 3 (I will go in depth about it at a later post.)

n umm like ...,,, bck to cici in gen. I guess the safety of earth is one of Cecil's redeeming qualities along with his compassion for side characters like Debbie. His pragmatism and utilitarianism define him. He lacks normal morals but has his own code that cultivates to his character. this ramble could not do justice to him ughfglg..,, what a compelling jezebel.. how can u captivate me so !!

My inbox is always open to discuss this multi-faceted rat man. here's to more cecil content in s2..,... hopefully with more of his dynamic with Debbie because I LIVE for that shit. though its unlikely their interactions could range to anything positive now since they may be hinting to cecil becoming an antagonist and/or taking extreme measures w/ mark. soo.. i dont think debbie's scolding was enough for that slut 2 take in ..

in the mean time i'll be catching up on the comics/re-reading them, look up more of his backstory and hopefully create 10 novels worth of google docs of analysis' of his character < 3 cuz .. he means .. that much 2 me.. and i want to prod at every crevice n brain matter he has inside that megamind head of his .

((hwaghhhhhh << hoping that one day the discord moots ive been keeping in my basement and most invincible fans fall victim to cecil stedman propoganda.. no one should be immune to my girlboss and his awful skullet.))

[dosthoeyevsky]

You Cant Free Palestine if You're In Jail or Dead.

(An open letter to every American on the internet, from a random Australian who has studied US politics basically against her will and is so, so tired.)

I don't like talking about US politics. I'm not American, so in theory, I shouldn't have to talk about it if I don't want to. But life isn't fair, no matter how little I want to care about USAmerican politics, it's going to affect the policies my country makes, and that every other country in the world makes. In a perfect world, this wouldn't happen. But this is not a perfect world, and we must be pragmatic.

At the end of the day, the one thing I cannot afford to ignore at any cost is the fact that I simply give a shit about my fellow human beings. We are a social species. We must help each other to survive, no matter where in the world we are. I care about people in my native Australia being able to access affordable housing and food, and climate change-proofing our infrastructure. I care about people in Bangladesh fighting for workers rights. I care about people in China who advocate for freedom of information. I care about Americans whose public infrastructure is crumbling under climate change events like hurricanes Helene and Milton as we speak, and I care about civilians in Palestine and Ukraine currently trying to survive the ultimate horror that is militarized violence.

(For any other non-Americans reading, I apologise for how US-centric most of the following spiel is about to get. But the election's in like two weeks, and I feel like I can't express this any other way right now.)

Many of us care about these things. Since October 7th of last year, millions of people around the world, many of them American, have been protesting, donating, advocating, for ceasefire and an end to the systemic termination of human civilian lives in Gaza. And as the 2024 US Election draws near, both major political party candidates are being scrutinized (rightly) for their support of the Israeli Defense Forces, who are conducting this bombardment and deliberately targeting and killing civilians.

I have heard many fellow progressives denounce democratic candidate Kamala Harris for not openly calling for a ceasefire, and I understand why.

However.

Her opponent is Donald Fucking Trump.

It's been eight years since the 2016 election. A lot of people who were young then are now eligible to vote (by the way, if you haven't already, check your voter registration and make sure you also have the option to vote by mail at the ready in case you can't access a polling station on election day.) And if that's you, and you've only become eligible to vote in the last eight years or so, you need to be very keenly aware of something.

You don't get a third option. It's Harris or Trump.*

Because of how the US electoral system works, third party candidates basically cannot win because of how ingrained the two party system has become over the past couple hundred years and change. No third party candidate is going to gather the numbers behind them to beat out Donald Trump and his army of worshipers, and definitely not in the next two weeks.

This means if Harris does not win, Trump will.

This might not make an immediate difference in Palestine for the first few days of either administration, but it's going to make a massive difference for the actual millions of Americans currently undertaking activism once he's elected.

To sum up, the fight for Palestine (or at least the fight to stop funding the military) has much greater odds of winning with Kamala Harris in the white house than trump, and if you care about that fight at all, you have to vote for her.

To be clear, I know she's not a christian** leftist, and she won't immediately stop funding the war, but under her administration, you will be able to fight for the ceasefire and your own rights much more effectively and in greater numbers than you ever will be able to with Trump in the white house.

Project 2025 is very fucking real and you should know that if you care about Palestine, him taking office will not only speed up the rate at which the genocide happens, but will also utterly tank your ability as a collective to fight against it and for any other progressive cause, for that matter, ever again.

Many of the activists fighting for Palestine on US soil right now are BIPoC, women, queer, trans, disabled, or any combination of the above. Roe vs Wade has already been overturned on a federal level by judges appointed during the Trump administration, and most of the anti-trans legislation currently metastasizing is doing so under republican-led state governments aligned with Trump.

If you're in jail (or dead) for trying to access abortion or birth control, you can't help free Palestine.

If you're in jail (or dead) for trying to access trans-related healthcare, you can't help free Palestine.

If you're overworked, over-indebted, or slowly dying because of a lack of healthcare coverage that could support you if you become (or are) permanently or temporarily disabled, you can't help free Palestine.

If you're over-indebted, unhoused, or dead because where you live hasn't funded the infrastructure it needs to survive climate change events like hurricanes, deep freezes, wildfires, droughts, and heatwaves, you can't help free Palestine.

As the above linked video states, if you are a US citizen, you are one degree of separation from someone who is going to get their quality of life drastically negatively impacted by a second Trump administration. And every person affected by those policies is one less person able to fight to stop the US government from aiding and abetting actual, literal war crimes.

I understand that Harris won't immediately end all suffering upon election. But unlike Trump, she actually values the lives of human beings who aren't cishet white men ready to fork over their livelihoods and lick boots. She has a vested interest in improving the immediate quality of life for American citizens, and if your immediate quality of life is improved, you will be much better able to fight to stop the US government from funding the systemic slaughter of civilians in Gaza.

So if you give a shit about Gaza, or worker's rights, or healthcare, or equality, or climate change, you need to vote for Harris. Even though she doesn't adhere to all progressive ideals. Hell, even though it already looks like everything is about to go to hell in a proverbial handbasket.

Think of it like this, right. Everyone in the world is on a plane right now, and the plane is crashing. The USA and Palestine are sitting right next to each other. The oxygen masks drop from the ceiling and dangle overhead.

When you get on a plane, the instructions say to put your own oxygen mask on and then assist others. This will increase your odds of surviving the crash. What the USA should do, is put on its own oxygen mask, because it will enable them to assist Palestine with theirs. By petulantly refusing to vote for Harris because "everything's already fucked", not only are you not going to be able to meaningfully help Palestine, you're drastically lowering your own odds of survival.

To add insult to injury, and to extend the metaphor for plane crashes as unfolding world issues, in the case of the extremely pressing issue of climate change, the US is not just seated next to Palestine, it is, in fact, flying the fucking plane.

If you Americans don't get your shit together and put on your oxygen mask by voting Harris, not only does your quality of life get flushed down the toilet, so does ours. Maybe not by patriarchal religious oligarchy, but by the rising tides, heavier droughts, encroaching famines, harsher storms, that will inevitably get worse under Trump because unlike Harris, Trump has a vested interest in funding the industries that keep the world's greatest polluters in business.

And let me be clear, to every American with progressive leanings who doesn't want to vote- if Trump wins, and your rights are stripped away, and the war goes on, and everyone else in the world drowns, it's your fucking fault, and I will haunt you. I hope my words certainly haunt you.

This isn't about making the most ideologically pure choice. This is about making the practical choice that gives you the greatest odds of survival, because survival means you can keep being activists.

So be practical, for fuck's sake.

*I hate to burst the bubble of every progressive idealist out there, but you are not organising a glorious leftist revolution that somehow steamrolls the entire US political institution in the next two weeks. That takes money and frankly firepower that most of you are unwilling and unable to organise. Even if it does, it will just be January 6th again but with a leftist coat of paint on it. And violent revolutions don't result in better quality of life long term for civilians if you don't have a plan in place for an ethical government to replace the previous one. I've known enough young leftists both online and off to know that that's not happening anytime soon either.

** This is a reference to this person on the reality TV show Trading Spouses, who, frankly, a lot of people on this website resemble when engaging in discourse. A lot of you ascribe to a set of leftist ideals driven by unreachable standards of moral conformity, personal disgust, and pride in personal moral purity that is functionally just oppressive evangelical christianity but with progressive gay window dressing. Before you open my askbox to scream incoherently into it, know now that no matter what, I'm going to delete it. You are wasting your time. Stop your portland polycule commune cult-tier bullshit where all activism begins and ends with hurling verbal abuse at anyone you disagree with. That's not activism. Stop threatening people with doxxing and death threats over fandom headcanons you deem "non-progressive" and do something useful. Join a mutual aid group. Better yet, vote for the person who isn't going to put you in jail for taking birth control or being trans.

[lonelylonelyghost]

Under the Skin analysis nobody asked for

a.k.a why I think that Du Cheng is pretty awesome actually.

SPOILERS for Under the Skin - Chinese drama, NOT a vore? body-snatcher?? movie with Scarlet Johansson. You have been warned.

*********

OK, let's get one thing out of the way first. People give Du Cheng a lot of shit about how he treated Shen Yi at first, which - fair, but hear me out.

Captain Lei for Du Cheng was not just a mentor and a fellow police officer, he was practically a father to him, the one who supported and showed young Mr. Du that he could redirect his anger and strength towards greater cause and help other people.

So imagine, in a very short amount of time, during the phone call with your almost-PARENT you hear him getting stabbed, find his dead body in a ditch, and then the reason the killers were able to identify him at all - a smug little shit of an artist who bragged about remembering every face he saw - couldn't draw for some reason the only face that mattered.

You'd also probably flip out and hold a grudge for 7 years.

Du Cheng also didn't know at this point that Shen Yi couldn't remember the face due to being dumped into the sea, he assumed that the artist just didn't want to do it.

I'm not saying that all this excuses Du Cheng's behavior, he's still a dick to an innocent person, a victim of circumstances - the fact which he already knew. What I'm saying is that it makes sense.

The scene in the interrogation room was amazing but I think we all know it

*********

Now, onto the thing:

The initial impression of Du Cheng's character is that yes, he's the police captain, and he's capable, but he's also kinda goofy. Like, where the work is not involved he's simple, straightforward person, not a genius like Shen Yi with his art or good with technology like Li Han, not very sophisticated, etc.

He's pretty chill overall (unless it's about murder cases or Shen Yi). Typical big gruff police captain that can be a butt of several jokes in other shows, but here is where things get interesting.

*********

When we first see him in the series, he's submerged in a bath inside of a suitcase, trying to figure out how a crime was committed. (Typing this I realized that there's even more of a theme of water and drowning, specifically of self-inflicted kind, than I'd thought before).

It shows that he's willing to go to great lengths to solve a case, including getting himself in a harm's way in the process, and this is demonstrated constantly throughout the show.

Later we see that he's also a good leader of his team, street-smart and physically strong.

A lot of wet men this show has

Speaking of physicality, I like how Du Cheng carries himself. With his height and size he could seem awkward, but Du Cheng is in complete control of his body.

His movements are big (wide? idk but you get my point) but fluid and calculated at the same time, partly because of the years' worth of training, partly because like many other tall people he's used to moving in the world that's occupied by smaller humans and a lot of fragile items.

He's not using his size for his advantage in everyday life, unless it's for the case and he needs to save one ever-unlucky Shen-laoshi from trouble for the tenth time that week.

He moves with the grace of a wild animal, calm and seemingly tame until he isn't, which is why although I understand his comparison to a dog in the show, I feel like he's more of a wolf.

Basically, there are three things I can watch forever - how the fire burns, how Shen Yi draws, and how Du Cheng jumps into the swimming pool.

*********

Another little mystery about Du Cheng that just doesn't let me go is - what the hell is his family background?

At first it seemed like he was just an ordinary rebellious teenager from some kind of tumultuous household. We don't hear anything about his parents, so we're simply left to assume (the same goes for Shen Yi).

That was until Du Qing comes into the picture. Du Cheng's sister is like rich-rich, so she could either amount to such power herself (girlboss ❤), or she's already come from money.

If the latter is the case, then what was Du Cheng doing on the streets all those years ago? Rich boy's tantrum? It didn't seem like it. Also, Du siblings seem pretty close, so I don't think that Du Qing would let her younger brother roam the streets if she had a choice.

Maybe I missed something? I don't know, but this tidbit just tickles my fancy for some reason, like what's his deal?

*********

But the thing that proved to me the fact that Du Cheng is as complex of a character as She Yi was when he framed himself as M's killer.

(I mean, I knew that he was innocent from the start, because hello, this is s Chinese contemporary show about cops, there's only so much wiggle room in terms of morality the censorship would allow - either he's guilty and he dies at the end, or he's not and everything will be fine. It didn't seem like the first option, so...)

Even before the whole thing went down, Du Cheng in general never seemed like a sidekick, simply a load of big muscles compared to Shen Yi's torturous genius, but this particular decision really cemented the quality of this partnership - in different ways, but they're equal. Neither can do without the other, and both of them can adapt and change their usual tactics when required.

And do you realize how rare this kind of thing is??

When two people have this sort of dynamic in a show - where one is very smart and the other is more down to earth - the second person more often than not would just feel like an assistant to the first one, and it's incredibly annoying to me personally.

But here it's different and oh my god IT'S SO GOOD! I practically screamed in excitement when it happened.

The motherfucker can scheme! This guy fell down from the stairs, hit his head, saw that M was dead, instantly understood what was happening and came up with a whole plan, which granted, involved getting himself in huge trouble, but it's not like Du Cheng is the only one who likes to be self-sacrificial fool in this show.

He sets a trap for the villain like a predator for the prey and then patiently waits. He knows that the price for this stunt is not only getting framed for the murder and demoted/imprisoned/executed? (I don't know the terms for death sentences in China very well), it's also the trust and potential well-being of his colleagues, and Du Cheng still agrees to pay it. He's ruthless both to himself and others, and I LOVE IT.

The later parts of the show provides us with not only deliciously tense moments, full of suspicions and drama and angst (the dinner with Du Qing, and Shen Yi drawing the eyes from the security footage are especially great), but also proves that BOTH of main characters have this darker undercurrent beneath their friendly exteriors.

And although it can't really be explored properly due to censorship, it still is fascinating to think about.

[disquetlibrary]

Inspired by this post

about how humans tolerate ambiguity and funkery in ther tech where other species strive for tech that just works and stays working. (Linked because I don't want to derail their post)

Despite the years of science and advancement. Some stories of magic and gremlins still stick around. First we talked about how gremlins would steal our food and mess with our neighbors. Then as tines evolved it became that the gremlins were responsible for tech issues like strange nonrepeatable programming bugs. Now days when the warpcore acts up or the nav computer plots a long series of jumps that wrap us round the edge of the galaxcy instead of a direct route. We say it's the gremlins. Aliens say we are insane: what invisible people who cause trickery just because. It's clearly caused by this phenomenal or just because 'your tech is so shodddily built.' And our scientists agree with them, but us boots on the ground know how things truly work. The fuel injector is not working? Leave out a bowl of milk I promise it will fix it right up. Say a prayer and offer thanks with every safe warp core jump and your trips will be safe and smooth.

At this point with our tech being built on so many years of advancements and the gremlins being there every step of the way. Engineering on a ship is much more like being a Shamen communicating and collaborating with the very ship itself. It freaks the hell out of any newbies though. All 'why are you doing that? And what's the tuning fork for.' Bud just trust us this is what we need to do.

Several aliens have taken up calling us the cursed people cause their ships have gotten strange errors and bugs when in extensive contact with human devices. It's just the gremlins finding new homes just treat them well and if you can't be bothered whelp sucks to be you.

I honestly love when children come aboard our ships and I get to show them around the inner guts. Cause some if them can see the gremlins and give excelent descriptions of hiw they enjoy our actions and gifts. And they will have the darkest ideas on how to solve our tricky problems. Sure they sound innane; I mean an engine block doesn't want a toy car. But damned if they don't work. I rarely catch glimpses of the fellows but children are better able to see them.

Aliens and scientists will claim that gremlins aren't real but will study and slaver over our tech. Trying to disect it to discover why our ships are so fast, or why they are nigh unkillable. Everything they come away with the understanding g that our tech simply shouldn't work much less perform so well. I just smile and leave out a few extra cookie crumbs as offerings on my snack break.

[lets-try-some-writing]

So I read your fic of the transformers being like the cybermen and how they reproduce and could not get it out of my head. So I had this thought,

There are instances of cybermen and the like not realizing what they are or waking up to try and warn who’s next. Imagine it was one of the rescue bots like blades who desperately pulls Cody and the other humans aside and begs them to stop accepting his and the others gifts.

He tells them that he remembers fighting this but when he looks back he can’t remember why and often finds himself thinking it was silly to fight. He doesn’t know about the others. He was the last one their sire was able to make. He knows Optimus made Bumblebee and that Bumblebee had excitedly told him Optimus planned to give him siblings.

He feels like a fraud because this doesn’t feel like rescuing these humans.

Ohhohoho this is the good stuff right here. Don't mind me at all :)

Previous part here.

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The Rescue Bots had been given clear orders to not bring any into the fold when they were woken from stasis. Optimus had not cut any corners in explaining the delicate situation on Earth and with the war. The Rescue Bots were disappointed considering they could instinctually sense their low numbers and had all long since matured enough to bring more into the fold, but they obeyed. They did nothing to possibly even hint at bringing more into the fold as they interacted with their human companions and worked to protect the organics under their care. However, that certainly did not stop them from keeping their optics on those with potential. Of course that meant that their interest inevitably drifted toward their human companions, at least those young enough to potentially survive the process.

Blades was no different than his fellows. His interest drifted between Dani and Cody, the two most viable for folding and those which he cared for most amongst the organics. But unlike Heatwave who was focused on Cody as well, Boulder who took a liking to Graham, or Chase who held an appreciation for Kade despite the fact that they were not teamed up... Blades was uncertain. His fellows watched the viable humans eagerly, their optics bright with greater and greater instinctual desire with every feat their chosen performed. But Blades? While he most certainly felt the same pull toward Dani, there was something deep in his spark that remembered. He knew what folding looked like, he knew what it did to an organic to make them one of Primus's creations. However there was just something so very... wrong with the idea of turning the humans.

It wasn't really the idea of folding them that upset him. No, he had no issues with that. He wasn't exactly enthusiastic, but rather apathetic toward the concept as a whole. What bothered him was the fact that the humans were unaware of folding and what it entailed. It was custom to not tell the potentials of the folding process, largely to ease their minds and keep them from thinking hard. Stress was the most common killer of sparklings being taken into the fold. It couldn't be risked.... and yet despite that, Blades felt and all encompassing disgust toward the idea of the humans not knowing. His memory was not the greatest, but he recalled fighting against the folding process. He remembered screaming and trying to bite and flee when it came to his Sire. Why he did so was beyond his understanding. He was made stronger, he had his weak mortal flesh stripped away and was gifted a frame far superior to the organic material from which he originated. It was ridiculous for him to have fought. Yet, he remembered doing so and a small part of him felt that it was almost his moral obligation to give a warning.

He had no reason to worry about the humans and warning them for many long months. His life was too hectic to give it a lot of thought outside of his few moments of downtime, but that changed when Optimus Prime arrived at their base without warning.

Heatwave: Sir? What are you doing here?

Optimus: There has been a serious change of plans.

Chase: What does that mean?

Optimus: My team and I have been bringing three humans into the fold. However the Decepticons have infiltrated our efforts and have already placed joint claims on our wards.

Boulder: I am not liking where this is going.

Blades: Wait, you were folding humans? But you told us not to!

Optimus: Yes, now listen. Megatron now has leverage over me and my team, but in turn, so do we.

Heatwave: What do we need to do?

Optimus: You catch on quick.

Optimus: We will keep the Decepticons distracted for as long as possible. Your mission is to begin creating a folding order here on Earth. Bring as many into our ranks as you can feasibly manage. More Autobots will be stationed here to assist.

Boulder: This is a very... aggressive tactic.

Optimus: We are at war Boulder. Not only that, but the sparkling rearing laws have already been broken. Megatron has placed a claim on my sparkling without the proper rites being performed. It is only right that we too do what we must.

Chase: We can fold as many humans as we can, but how will we keep them safe from being similarly claimed?

Optimus: This island is all but totally cloaked. Those brought into the fold will remain here, and this is where we shall establish our stronghold. Autobot city, the place where our ranks shall be renewed and where we might have... leverage.

Heatwave: Sir you can't really be considering-!?

Optimus: The sparklings will be our ticket to ensuring we maintain the upper hand. Megatron is cruel, but his lieutenants wish for sparklings more than anything else. It will not be difficult to begin drawing more and more Decepticons to our side with the promise of sparklings, especially considering we have the resources to take hundreds of potential candidates at once.

The Rescue Bots were of course incredibly dubious about the plan. They all wanted sparklings, even Blades. But they were not exceptionally thrilled about the idea of said sparklings also playing the role of political tool. Well, that was until Optimus pulled a small being from within his carrying chamber. The Bots instantly fell silent, each watching as Optimus unwrapped his charge to reveal a human child, one about halfway through the folding process. For Blades it merely set a strange uncertainty ablaze in his spark, but for the others, it was not hard to see how it made all their reservations go flying out the window.

Their orders had been given. They were to begin the folding process with as many young as possible, and soon enough the plan was put into motion. Optimus pulled some strings and soon enough there were government agents bringing over young children, orphans who had been brought over under the guise of receiving special teaching from Autobot agents. It was not wrong by any means, but Blades only grew more and more unsettled as Autobots began arriving en mass. Blurr, Quickshadow, High Tide, and even Bumblebee were quickly deployed and were swift in beginning the correct rituals. All the while Blades could only watch on in discomfort as the island was changed, walls being put around the border, new Cybertronian structures taking root, and so much more.

The humans did panic as more and more Autobots arrived and began to build, but whatever Optimus said soothed them and it seemed the running lie was that the island was being fortified against possible Decepticon attacks. The poor humans believed it, hook, line, and sinker. There was nothing Blades could do as Kade, Dani, Cody, and Graham began accepting gifts and affection while Burns similarly took offerings with a smile. Blades had no problem with the folding on its own... but this felt wrong. They didn't know. They had no clue what they were getting into, and with orphans being brought to the island as more Autobots arrived, Blades felt the urge to at least do his due diligence.

Blades: Do you like this life you have?

Cody: Yeah?

Blades: Then stop accepting our gifts. The more you take, the more our rite progresses.

Dani: What does that mean?

Blades: I can't tell you much. It's not my job.

Kade: Spit it out Blades!

Blades: ...

Graham: What's going on?

Blades: We want you all to join us. Accepting what we offer only tells us that you wish to join the fold.

Blades did not tell them much, but it was enough to set the humans on edge. For weeks they were hesitant, but one by one, they seemed to think Blades was referring to joining the team fully or something of the like. He could only frown as the humans unknowingly started to accept energon from the Rescue Bots and other gathered Autobots. He felt a degree of guilt for not telling them outright, but this was going to happen whether he liked it or not. It was best that they were unburdened during the process.

And so he watched and took Dani under his wing, giving her his energon in small doses without her knowing as the quietly dubbed 'Autobot City' began to rise around them. The humans didn't know yet, they did not know that the Autobots were digging in roots. They were unaware of the fact that Bumblebee had given Optimus and his team full control over communications coming to and from the island. Already there were plans for unfortunate deaths to occur for the human children being brought to them, and Optimus had made all sorts of deals Blades was not privy to in order to ensure Burns stayed quiet once the changes began.

Things were progressing, and while his spark flared in growing joy at seeing so many being brought into the fold, an echo of guilt followed him. These little ones may not survive, and they were going to be taken from their families. It was the way of Cybertronians, but a small part of Blades, a piece of him that failed to fully change... it wept as Bumblebee gleefully brought three small sparklings with him to the island.

"These are my newest siblings! The little one is Atlas, the femme is Terra, and the biggest is Cronos!"

"They were given... Earth names?"

"They were the first. Optimus and the others wanted to honor that!"

"Oh, I see."

Three young sparklings. Their frames still appeared very human, but their sparks were there. They were the first. Three children, three small humans taken from all they knew to become part of a dying race. Blades could not help but be grieved, especially when Burns was silenced with hush money and his children taken from him.

[funfandomtime]

Purely self-indulgent but what if the monsters were allowed to be thoroughly and unabashedly......monstrous. Truly and utterly evil. What would they be like?

Clawdeen - A former human who's been made fun of and isolated due to her love of monsters only to discover they're real and she's on the throne to be the were-ruler? The power and new life 100% motivates her to throw away all humanity in her and start planning the monster take-over of the world. The monster world and its kind is all that matters to her now. Would not hesitate to make humans suffer and enslave them as revenge.

Draculaura - Being a late bloomer and highly competitive, Draculaura's desire for power manifests in witchcraft and ever expanding it forward no matter the cost. Always learning, always practicing, always finding ways to grow it and make herself more powerful. Probably plans on draining millions of human souls to become an all-powerful witch. At the very least she's loyal to Clawdeen and Frankie though at times her ego makes her believe she has better ideas than what Clawdeen has.

Frankie - Eager to learn everything and anything, this desire manifests in experimentation. Frankie has no issue experimenting on humans or even their fellow monsters if it means understanding their new surroundings or how things work. Not entirely sadistic but you're certainly going to be in pain somehow if Frankie ever gets their hands on you or your gifted to them for a project.

Cleo - More or less the Starscream of the Boo Crew. Desperate for complete power and command, Cleo's willing to wiggle herself into any position she can in the hopes of one day climbing up the ranks and taking over for herself. Whether that be overthrowing Nefera's rule or Clawdeen's, doesn't matter to her. Unfortunately for her, she's often at a disadvantage simply due to everyone else's greater skills and has to rely more so on mystical objects to achieve her hidden goals.