#accept from steps reading
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nwarrior777 · 11 months ago
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having shut downs for two days in a row, decided to feel my feeling through jpegs
so yeah here is Astarion struggling after being captured (and saved) from cazador or smth, everything i knew is still random cutscenes with him recomended by youtube, but i love him anyway
(why is he fat - because)
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aroaessidhe · 2 months ago
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2024 reads / storygraph
At The Feet Of The Sun
book 2 in a slow paced high fantasy duology*
the right hand of the emperor (who is off searching for an heir) struggles with what to do after passing on his responsibilities and also discovering various pieces of information that are mindblowing to him, personally,
after adventure is thrust upon him, he travels to find His Radiancy and they go on some otherworldly adventures while growing closer and figuring out the nature of their friendship
(*there’s extra novellas & i think another book coming? duology adjacent, currently,)
#At The Feet Of The Sun#lays of the heart-fire#aroaessidhe 2024 reads#giggling and kicking my feet. and also crying#bro the yearning….the yearning#I can definitely see why this loses people - it’s so long and very self indulgent#(listen. i enjoy it a lot . but does it need to be THAT long (i just checked. 375k? lord))#but it is easy to read and also very funny. it felt less repetitive than the first book to me#I did find it hard to keep track of some of the side characters though#The first world-travelling stuff caught me off guard initially - I feel like all the weird magic was more background in book 1?#or maybe I just didn't pay attention.#taking a step back it is a bit like - kip sure does achieve everything and then some and just continues to achieve everything huh#and it gets to a point where it's like.....okay yes I get he's so talented at this etc etc.#but I guess it’s a nice change of pace from the kingly swordfighting fantasy protagonist who’s perfect and wins everything -#someone whose skill is people and negotiation in a humble way is a bit more interesting. still. it maybe felt less grounded after a while?#the deep exploration of platonic yearning and desire for strong friendship and fear over that person just wanting romance/sex#when that’s Not what you want out of the relationship………#not to mention his complex feelings over meeting two people who were like his platonic soulmate rolemodels#and then finding out they just used that term because gay relationships weren’t accepted and trying to not be disappointed#(because gay is also good!) but also like. so lonely in feeling like nobody understands his desire for a platonic soulmate#to be treated equally as romantic relationships are. oof#I am a little baffled to see people interpret it as a romantic asexual relationship?#I feel like that does such a disservice to the . everything that has been set up in what 600k words of books#like the implication of that is that you think other romantic rships w/o sex are unheard of in this world. I find that hard to believe idk#(I mean - a bit romantic on fitzroy’s end; and in the nebulous queerplatonic area between friendship and romance; sure#but like a straight up romantic relationship just without sex - I don’t understand how it could be interpreted that way lol?)#(anyway other people’s interpretations don’t matter)#I do have questions about the telepathic dinosaur soulmates. you can’t just mention that and now show me them#also. kip being like 'wait there were sirens? i wonder if i can hire them' kshfkjsgkf#asexual books
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dark-twist-fairytales · 2 months ago
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staring at some old posts like 'i have regrets'.
#venting in the tags below#its nothing about anyone specifically just as a general fandom view#of one specific fandom that we wont tag#just left that little buffer right there so if you dont want to read you dont have to. there is a lighter note at the end.#but that fandom just... sucks overall. dont get me wrong! we loved it as a kid#but its just... the same issues different characters. a divide amongst everyone.#and nothing can really be done about it because its just.. there.#you cant stop it.#no matter what: what you do is wrong.#weve tried in that fandom for years. literal years.#and its always been an outcasting feeling.#at first: we were too mature. then: too old. now: just plan old fucked and wanting to stay away from certain characters#'so you hate them?' no. they hurt and bring up bad memories.#'so youre not supportive?' i am supportive. its completely fine for me to say its not my cup of tea. because its not my cup of tea.#its... a shame really. but im glad that the bodys mom is able to see us smile again from a new place. much more accepting and comfortable.#its nice. it really is. i feel welcomed and like i belong around here.#i dont feel shamed for being sourced from the fandom im in#it feels.... nice. it feels like home. like this is where we were meant to be.#thank you. im glad we came back to tumblr. im glad that were still here. im glad that -despite everything- were still fighting the world#we may even have a better job opportunity than ever before! finally getting some sort of sleep at night. finally feel.. just safe overall.#safe on tumblr that is#i know we wont truly ever be safe. but one step at a time. one step at a time.#the fire fighter
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acourtofquestions · 2 months ago
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Hearth to hearth, the Flame of War went.
Over snow-blasted mountains and amongst the trees of tangled forests, hiding from the enemies that prowled the skies. Through long, bitterly cold nights where the wind howled as it tried to wipe out any trace of that flame.
But the wind did not succeed, not against the flame of the queen.
So hearth to hearth, it went.
To remote villages where people screamed and scattered as a young-faced woman descended from the skies on a broom, waving her torch high.
Not to signal them, but the few women who did not run. Who walked toward the flame, the rider, as she called out, "Your queen summons you to war. Will you fly?"
Trunks hidden in attics were thrown open. Folded swaths of red cloth pulled from within. Brooms left in closets, beside doorways, tucked under beds, were brought out, bound in gold or silver or twine. And swords-ancient and beautiful—were drawn from beneath floorboards, or hauled down from haylofts, their metal shining as bright and fresh as the day they had been forged in a city now lying in ruin.
Witches, the townsfolk whispered, husbands wide-eyed and disbelieving as the women took to the skies, red cloaks billowing. Witches amongst us all this time.
Village to village, where hearths that had never once gone fully dark blazed in answer.
Always one rider going out, to find the next hearth, the next bastion of their people.
Witches, here amongst us. Witches, now going to war.
A rising tide of witches, who took to the skies in their red cloaks, swords strapped to their backs, brooms shedding years of dust with each mile northward.
Witches who bade their families farewell, offering no explanation before they kissed their sleeping babes and vanished into the starry night.
Mile after mile, across the darkening world, the call went out, ceaseless and unending as the eternal flame that passed from hearth to hearth.
"Fly, fly, fly!" they shouted. "To the queen! To war!"
Far and wide, through snow and storm and peril, the Crochans flew.
#Chapter 65#Kingdom of Ash#Sarah J. Maas#Manon Blackbeak#no spoilers please first read along with me#spoilers in post and tags with more notes reactions quotes annotations etc in tags#Dorian had gone to Morath. Had flown from the camp on wings of his own making.#He would have chosen some sort of small ordinary bird Manon knew. Something even the Thirteen would not have noted#Crunching snow told her Asterin approached. He left didn't he. She nodded unable to find words. — she knew. East not North.#She had offered him everything and had thought he'd meant to accept it. Had thought he did accept it#She had offered him everything and had thought he'd meant to accept it. Had thought he did accept it. Yet it had been farewell.#He would not cage her would not accept what she'd given. As if he knew her better than she knew herself. Do we go after him?#Today-today they would decide where to go. Today she'd dare ask the Crochans to follow. — The Last Crochan Queen The Witch-Queen#to head back into hell The sun rose full and golden as if it were the solitary note of a song filling the world. — for him she would#Terrasen calls for aid! A young Crochan's voice rang through the camp. — but for her people — THEY GOT THE CALL — GO NOW#Even if she'd needed it waited for it. The Flame of War. What say you Queen of Witches? A challenge and a dare. Manon lifted her chin to -#-the two paths before her. one to the east to Morath the other NORTHward to Terrasen and to battle. The wind sang and in it she heard the#answer. I shall answer Terrasen's call Manon said. Asterin stepped to her side fearless as she surveyed the assembled camp. As shall I.#And so it went. Until the leaders of all seven of the Great Hearths stood gathered there. — I’m not crying ur crying — fire bringer#Rhiannon Crochan rode at King Brannon's side into battle. So has her likeness been reborn so shall the old alliances be forged anew.#Light the Flame of War Queen of Witches and rally your host. — the eternal flame — darkness will not claim them#Even the wind did not jostle the flame as Manon lifted it a torch in the new day. The Crochan crowd parted revealing a straight path toward#Bronwens Hearth. ​Each step was a drumbeat of war. An answer to a question posed long ago. Your Queen summons you to war. — Hearth to Heart#Then and only then did the young scout from the final clan take her burning torch grab her broom and leap into the skies.#To find the next clan to tell them the call had gone out. — nothing but a smoldering speck against the sky then nothing at all. — Hope.#Manon offered a silent prayer on the wind that the sacred flame the young scout bore would burn steadfast over the long dangerous miles.#All the way to the killing fields of Terrasen. Hearth to hearth the Flame of War went.#Fly fly fly! they shouted. To the queen! To war! Far and wide through snow and storm and peril the Crochans flew.#Terrasen calls for aid — so they follow. — Hold on LysAedion come on Aelin — I’m not crying I’m just crying — NOW GO QUICK#The true Witch Queen child of peace and war Manon Blackbeak of the Thirteen & Rhiannon The Last Crochan Queen
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bumblingbabooshka · 2 years ago
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A Star Trek Novel called “Pocket Full of Lies” really has NO business going so hard.
#IMPORTANT NOTE: I only read Star Trek Novels as they pertain to Tuvok#so I have no idea about how the novel reads overall#but the Tuvok storyline????? Damn. DAMN dude.#what if you were suffering from a loss that affected and changed you so deeply that even those closest to you no longer recognized you?#and that change is symbolized and mirrored through this alternate reality version of your best friend who in YOUR universe also no longer#understands you...could never understand you...but THIS version of her is familiar. You can share each other's pain. You understand one#another in a way no one else does. And what if your inner grief/turmoil#was symbolized again in this alternate timeline by a constant war that's been raging f#for thousands of years with no end in sight no matter how hard you fight. The fighting in the end means nothing. The violence means nothing.#The death means nothing bc when you die another will take its place.#'His death was meaningless like this is meaningless' you think initially only to find that  NO! It's the holding on to the PAIN that's#meaningless. It's the SUFFERING that's meaningless.#Tuvok being sent to convince ALT Janeway to give herself up to Starfleet but being unable to do so because he sympathizes and empathizes#with her...because (on another level) she isn't ready to give up the war (the suffering grief) and neither is he because to them the war#and the pain has BECOME the people they're grieving (Elieth & Daughter) so to give up feeling pain is to give up feeling love#but that isn't TRUE!!! and we see that in how Tuvok actually rebukes the affections and concerns of those attempting to reach out to him#and offer love...in reality this 'protection' or 'vigilance' is unhealthy and closes them off from healing and love. Bad coping mechanism.#Initially Tuvok pushes away everyone he comes across but through helping Janeway he helps himself and is finally able to take steps towards#acceptance in the purging of his anger on Dayne (Alt Janeway's husband who willfully allowed her daughter to die)#and we can see this in his outlook on how to move forward. In the beginning he's like 'I will never heal from this and I'll just live the#rest of my life never feeling safe or at peace.' <- defining and living his life according to the pain he's suffered#but in the end he has a more hopeful outlook...he sees that there are people around who want to be there for him and that he wants to lean#on...maybe forgiveness doesn't mean literally forgiving those who caused you to suffer but instead finally letting go of that suffering#and living according to joy...friendship..two hands clasped together. love.#novel experiences#Tuvok#Janeway#st voyager#oh ALSO the fact that Janeway always manages to survive being turned from a good thing to a very bittersweet thing for Tuvok bc his own#son was not so lucky...-chefs kiss-
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imagine-nerd · 7 months ago
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The fucking disconnect is so real.
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#theo's thoughts#Story time for the people who love reading tags bc I love sharing things in the tags#So I work at a therapeutic day school and this past school year like four school days before Thanksgiving break I was asked a question#The question was if I would be willing to step up and be a long term sub in a middle school classroom#To me this was less of a question and more of a hey we need someone to do this and you're who the assistant teacher asked for#Which cool yeah fine I'll give it a go I really like that person (the assistant teacher who asked for me) and I trust her judgement on this#I was asked and accepted on Thursday. Friday‚ Monday‚ and Tuesday happen. Then three day Thanksgiving break#When we got back from break I was the teacher and it was rough at first and it sure as hell was never easy but I enjoyed it#My formal teacher observation was my boss basically going like so I see you doing all the things and the basis is there#But it's not being followed through on because of behaviors from the most unmedicated classroom I've seen in all my years working education#And now for the summer they're changing 2/3 staff that were in the room and who even knows who the teacher will be (a new hire? Maybe?)#If there truly is a new hire coming in (fed to the wolves immediately btw what a dick move) but that new hire will be the fourth teacher#These kids have had in a year? A year and a half max. The fourth. After the only thing I've been repeatedly told by admin for months#Is that we need to be stable and consistent because we may be these kids' only reliable source of that consistency and stability?#So you're going to have me come in and tell me I've done such a great job and then tell me you're moving me to 'give me a break'#Trauma informed care my fucking ass. I hope those kids raise fucking hell over it.#The brutal satisfaction of watching your own crops burn and knowing that the invaders will starve is great and all but these are kids!#They're barely just about to be teenagers (11 at the youngest and 14 at the oldest) and this is what you're going to do to them?#Yes they can be complete assholes and are often dicks to one another but they're in our school for a fucking reason? I don't get it.#Then two hours later after being told abt the change‚ the clinical director puts me as one of the three main recipients in an email#Saying that there's going to be a new student starting in that room in the summer and the real icing on the cake?#This all happens on last day before summer break. we're out of session for two weeks now and you're just dropping these changes on us now?#God I'm so fucking tired
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ichigosoju · 7 months ago
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🍪🥛
#out of sight out of mind....#im not gonna check his blogs every day from here on out#and i hid/archived our chat so i dont have to see it when i open the messaging app#i do have some kind of 'fomo' lol bc i dont wanna miss out on any potential glimpse into his mind or days#esp now when he doesnt tell me anything anymore. idk anything abt what goes on with him#but .. i am allowing and letting him control my life#i obsessively check my phone and refresh his blogs ALL day#it's extremely unhealthy and pathetic and i know this#it's just hard to stop bc i genuinely... love him sm#plus he told me he wanted me for real so he made me not only dream of a life i thought wasnt possible for me#but also WANT it. i only want him and to live with him and be his. that's all i want but he just cut me off out of nowhere lol#and im still hung up on it... i dont want my boring reality. current nor future. i just want the reality where im with him which he made me#think was smth i could have one day soon.#but anyway. if his feelings changed that's how it is. it's not even his fault it's just how things work in life#even if i dont want to accept it i have to. i cant keep living in this limbo. i try to talk to him but he's a wall so that's a No.#so i cant let him control my life and waste away all my days on him#i need to stop checking his blogs and our chat. that's the first step#im still gonna allow myself to think of him and daydream and fantasize. but that will have to stop soon too#then i have to focus on doing my assignments and read books and go to the gym#things that will help me get realistically where i want in my current reality#i want to finish highschool and then apply for a preschool or library program#and hopefully the plan is to get a student housing apartment so i can move out finally and live on my own and study#then when i finish i'll look for a job as either of those things. and a place to live (which is super fkn hard in these modern chaos times)#even if i have to live my life all alone... i want to be as comfortable as i can at least#i can live in my own row house and have pets and work and read and play games and watch shows#and see and talk to my mom#i mean hopefullyyyy i'll be able to try to make at least some shallow connections so i have ppl to hang out with#i can always hope to meet someone who'll fall in love with me but im not counting on it#ugh.. bc as it is now#i dont do ANYTHING but be on my phone
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autistic-shaiapouf · 9 months ago
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Beginning to really wonder how much of my financial concern is manufactured and handed to me as opposed to something I'm genuinely concerned by
#bc like. i'm getting by just fine. i don't have anything to be reasonably worried about#but also when i was a kid my father would break down my mother's paycheck and basically explain how broke we were#and that May Have Affected Me Somewhat#as well as just. the way you consistently see the advice to just save! don't get takeout! necessities! and i'm not intent on living like#a monk nor am i intent on being on that grindset for financial gain#it's like i don't intrinsically care but i have so many messages given to me about how i need to care a lot and it puts me in a weird spot#i am simultaneously standing still and moving at mach speeds#i mean right now i just need a safety net while in between jobs; after that i need to save up to move out of state bc the uh#political situation and upcoming presidential election don't seem very sustainable for someone like me anymore#they weren't to begin with but i don't wanna stick around to see how bad it's gonna get#but it's like. okay and then what? save for what? going back to school i guess? idk#i feel like i keep asking myself what i'm trying to accomplish and keep trying to force myself to have answers#here and now when i have to be okay with taking things one step at a time instead of having everything here and now#it's simultaneously fine and terrible and i am holding two conflicting yet equal truths#i feel i may have a clearer head once i leave my current job. i'm trying to look but nothing feels appealing given how#burnt out i already feel. i dread going back into my workplace and i fear it's showing to the patients and i don't want that#i want a month off to rediscover who i am as a person outside of getting yelled at in retail and then pick something back up#could be feasible. genuinely could be. i need to sort out the health insurance aspect but. that's lowkey the plan?#to construct a financial safety net and then slam on the breaks for a while; see if i can strike up a deal with the staff about me#coming in for specific tasks bc we already know i'm quick and efficient with the inventory so i do have a little leverage#you know what. this is getting some of it off my chest and i'm starting to feel confident again lmao#i won't be doing weekends starting either next week or the week after so that's a start! i just think i want everything done right now#bc i'm afraid i won't have the chance again but i will. i definitely will#i just need to let myself get to that point; it's just the immense drain from the register work and the Everything that comes with retail#also having to accept that it's okay to leave this; there's not something wrong with me like. ''not being able to handle it'' or w/e#no mindfulness or detachment could've saved me; it was shit and i'm hitting the bricks and that's all there is to it#i've been thinking a lot about it all lately bc it's what's most prominent in my life rn of course#idk. pondering. introspecting. as i am wont to do#anyways if you've read all this you're a real mvp and i am kissing you on the hand#shai speaks
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deus-ex-mona · 2 years ago
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my day in two pictures:
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#very very long and incoherent and whiny rant incoming sorryyyyyy#i hate this. so. sooooo. sooooooooooo much#i could tell that this day was gonna go badly bc of just how well yesterday went (my lxl fan novels and curry meshi deliveries came in)#so anyway. i woke up late bc i slept late (thanks lxl event story lmaoo) and stuff happened so i left my place later than usual#but surpriseeeee it rained the moment i stepped out of the elevator. and the bus was coming in 3 minutes!!!!#so i ran across the carpark in the rain to take a shortcut. that was fine. whatever. but then i saw the bus turn in and—#for some reason my legs just. stopped moving. i couldn’t run anymore :( battery? depleted. bus? left right in front of my very eyes :(#and the next bus was set to come in 10 minutes ಥ‿ಥ so that was freakin’ fantastic.#anyways the bus came and took me to the interchange where the dumb train station was. and when i got to the platform… the train just left.#and the next train was set to come in 5 minutes. which was great news for me who had an hour to get to work#so the train came. the hour-long journey went. and when i reached the bus stop to transfer to the bus to get to work… the bus had just left#so with some time (read: 10 minutes) to spare i decided to get some bread for dinner…#unfortunately the bakery place thing i went to did not accept card payments ಥ‿ಥ so i decided to rely on qr code payments instead#big. mistake. (ʘ‿ʘ) my payment was rejected 4 times before i gave up and decided to use cash#unfortunatelyyyyyyy i had no $10 notes left for a quick and easy payment (i only had 2 $2 notes and a $50 note along with some coins) so i.#cue a panicked small change counting as i desperately tried to count as quickly as possible while the customer after me pressured me :(#and did i mention that a lady cut my queue while i was waiting to pay???? (ʘ‿ʘ) pain and suffering#thankfully i barely managed to catch the bus after that tizzy but i was already late for work by then :(#anyways i arrived at work late and decided to check my email app for the lolz. biiiiiig mistake!!!!!!!#i noticed that i had a new email from my father (derogatory) whom i had ghosted years ago. like??? why did he have to email today???#my day was bad enough without him pls gimme a break. i just. suffering???????????#so i get to my workstation (the worst workstation ever istg) and note that there actually aren’t many samples today! yay!#…then they freakin’ brought in like 200+ more samples and i realised that the morning shift had yet to finish weighing the morning samples—#pain. and. suffering. (ʘ‿ʘ) looks like i’ll have to work till 3am again.#ughhhhh why did today’s happenings have to happen this week??????? this isn’t a biologically good week for me i’m gonna. throw someone istg#i’m exhausted and annoyed and hating everything and anything sooooo hard rn and i think i need anger management classes bc aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa—#ok rant over time to cry ig. idk. i s w e a r i’m gonna smacc the morning shift people tomorrow if i don’t call out sick first—#it is suiyoubi my dudes
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catmaidetho · 2 years ago
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i envy my mutuals who have better work ethics than me when it comes to writing. love yall <3
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opens-up-4-nobody · 2 years ago
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...
#ok so like this is fine bc im not in a horrible mood rn. this is more i feel like complaining bc what im doing is kinda ridiculous#but my memory is so bad that ill probably forget if i dont write it out. but basically 4 days a week i have to come in starting at 7.30 to#water and prep for measurements. then from 9am to 6.15pm i have to nonstop take the measurements. and theyre timed so that means#i get abt 4 min to do anything before i have to take another measurement. which is abt enough time to start to focus and then have to stop#which is very fucking frustrating. and i have to manage data. coordinate for this fucking paper. and keep track of like 10 other things for#work stuff. which means that it takes me like and hour to send easy emails and they come out all fucked uo bc my brain is so shot#but on top of that i also have to fucking do the steps to get set up for my new school in the fall. and like ive officially accepted the#offer but havent talked to my new advisor since then so now theres this weird gap where im like. uh fuck do i ask for wtf im supposed to#do? bc ive been able to do things for like 2 or 3 weeks but then my life started collapsing in around me. and like there r probably#instructions somewhere but i cant fucking read lol. whatever. hes nice i just need to find the energy and words to email him and b like lol#srry everythings been insane. but bc ive waited so long i have to compulsively keep going back to check that ive been accepted like somehow#that would change while im not looking. ugh. and ive also fucked myself over housing wise bc theres a housing shortage in the city and huge#demand of housing on camus so theres a wait list for everything but i cant fucking apply bc i cant get my id to work. and fucking idk who#to call or email abt that. but idk i might have to have roomates for a semester. or my parents offered to give me some extra money for an#apartment until i can get one that doesnt put me in the red on a grad student budget. ugh. i dont wanna do either of those things#but christ do i not want roommates. ill figure something out. its just annoying and difficult from so far away#and it makes me kinda sad bc ppl r like: r u excited?! and im like. i cant really think abt that. partly bc im constanly putting out fires#in the present so theres not really space for it. partly bc i dont allow myself to b excited abt things so as not to get my hopes up.#but just after i accepted i was excited. and now it feels like im reaching my hand out toward a floating light just out of reach. like#its a nice idea but i wont believe until it happens. but that just bc ive become distorted about things#and i dont even get a weekend bc the 4 days of measurement r friday to Monday and i cant fucking relax on weekdays bc ppl r like hey can u#do this??? and there r things i can only do on weekdays so its like ok i guess ill just suffer forever thrn. and my boss texts me like: hey#did u do X? and am like: uuuuuh i fucking dont kno what day it is anymore. i dont understand y we have to meet. lets just not talk bc im#afraid ill say something worrying. so yea its pretty fucked up rn. but this stuff ends on the 24th#then ill probably not take a break and fucking finish the measurements for another project bc i just really need it to b done. i need it#all to b done so i can fucking wash my hands of this and fucking quit and move away at the start of july... or August if i decide i hate#myself that much. ugh. at least the lab has been pretty empty so no ones seen me crying lol#also thr fucking rutgers guy emailed me yesterday like: hey u want this position? and im like bitch u r like a month too late also im in#my cringe fail era. i would not survive at ur school. ugh everything is terrible. 2 or 3 more months then i csn leave this place forever#unrelated
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powdermelonkeg · 11 months ago
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Important rules/tips I've learned as an adult that helped with anxiety
If people are mad at you, it's their responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess
If they're mad at you in secret anyways, they're the ones in the wrong, not you
If people don't like what you're doing, it's their responsibility to tell you
If they say it's fine when it's really not, they're the ones in the wrong, not you
People are allowed to be wrong about you
If they are wrong about you, wait for them to bring it up, because if you try to, you will inevitably overcorrect
Some people are committed to misunderstanding you. You will not win arguments against them. Yes, even if you explain your point of view. They do not care. Drop it
The worst thing that will happen from a first-time offense is being told not to do it again. Maybe with a replacement if you broke something
You can improve relationships and gauge willingness to talk to you by giving compliments. It's like a daily log-in bonus and nobody thinks twice about it
Most things are better after you sleep on them
Most things are better after you have a meal
Most things are better after you shower
Your brain makes up consequences that are irrational. If the worst DOES come to pass and someone acts like they do in your head, they are overreacting, and you are entitled to say "what the fuck"
If your chest hurts after you feel like you've made a social error, that's called rejection-sensitive dysphoria. It means your anxiety is so bad that it's causing you physical pain, which is a good indicator that you're overreacting. Tense yourself, hold it for 20 seconds, let it go, then find a distraction
If you're suddenly angry at someone after you feel like you made a social error, that's also rejection-sensitive dysphoria. You are going to feel annoyed about it for awhile, but being genuinely pissed off is your anxiety trying to find something to blame to take the responsibility off your shoulders, and getting scared because it can't justify itself. Deep breaths, ask yourself how much you ACTUALLY want to be angry at that person, then find a distraction
"Sour grapes" is more healthy for you than stewing. Deciding you don't like someone who's perpetually annoyed with you, won't talk to you, etc. makes letting go of anxiety over them easier
If people don't like you, they will find reasons to be annoyed with you when they otherwise wouldn't. If people do like you, they will find reasons NOT to be annoyed with you when they otherwise would. People do not ping-pong between the two
You DO have to make a conscious choice not to think about something. If you're having trouble circling back to it, say out loud that you're done thinking about it and why. Then find a distraction
When you're upset, part of you is going to want to make false bids for attention (suddenly texting differently, heavy sighs, etc. but when someone asks you about it, you tell them it's nothing). Do not listen to it. You gain nothing from it except more misery
People like to help people they care about. It makes them feel good about themselves
If you think you're insufferable for needing help, see above. Yes, really. They get a serotonin kick from it
If you think you're insufferable for mannerisms you have, you either have to consciously choose not to do them, or accept that they're part of the package that comes with you. Being apologetic about existing does nothing except make you more miserable
If you do things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it makes it easier to do them when you hate it
If you avoid things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it reinforces and magnifies how bad it feels when you hate it
Seriously. Read those last two points again. If you can make yourself make a phone call when you've got nothing to lose, you will slowly lose that panic you get when you have to make a phone call you haven't prepared for. You do have to CONSCIOUSLY take that step
Hobbies that make you care for something get rid of that nagging feeling that you're not doing enough. Go grow some rosemary
If you don't engage with your hobbies regularly, you will feel miserable, and anxiety will spike
Hobbies are things that give you a bit of happiness. They do not have to be organized or named to do that. Go be creative in something. Play with coins. Make up lists. Start a new WIP
No one cares what you look like
If people point out things they don't like about how you look unprompted, they are being rude. You are entitled to say "what the fuck"
People who like you will find you pretty to some degree. Minor things about your appearance go completely unnoticed. Literally, scars and dots and blemishes do not register to someone who likes your company
You looking at yourself in the mirror is 10x more closely than anyone is going to look at you
If you're anxious about your body type, and you're creatively inclined, make/write an oc with that same shape. Give them nice things and make other characters love them. Put them on adventures. You'll start to see yourself in the mirror more kindly
You care about wording and perfect lines/colors way more than anyone who views your work ever will
Sometimes when you're upset, you're going to feel like not eating. Do not do that. Not eating makes you more miserable
Same with things you normally enjoy. Denying yourself helps no one. You are punishing yourself for being sad. Stop it
Both of these will take conscious decision to break the habit of. Make yourself do it anyways, and it will slowly get easier
And again, to reiterate: If someone is mad at you, it is THEIR responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess
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yaytomhiddlestonyay · 6 months ago
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tom,
why must you talk about all of the relateable life experiences that i have
why
youre the only one who really understands me, tom
and for that i thank you
*waggles slug off of foot*
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What are your icks? 🐌
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gojorgeous · 11 months ago
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"creature of myth."
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pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)
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You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 
You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 
You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 
Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 
Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 
You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 
The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 
The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 
When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 
Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 
You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 
The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 
Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 
“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 
You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 
You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 
Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”
You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 
“Yes, my lady?” 
You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?
You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 
There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”
Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 
You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 
You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 
You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 
You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 
You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 
You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 
You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 
You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 
You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 
You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 
“Do you like them?” 
You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 
He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,�� he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 
Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 
He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 
“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 
Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 
There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 
“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 
You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 
“Of course… Satoru.” 
He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 
“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 
“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 
There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 
“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 
You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?
“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 
He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 
You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?
Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 
“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.
Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 
His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 
“Not tonight.” 
His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 
His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 
“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 
You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 
~  
You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 
That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 
When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 
“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 
You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”
A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 
“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 
You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 
You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 
That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 
There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.
~
If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 
Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 
The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 
You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 
He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 
“It was… good.”
You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 
You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 
That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 
A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 
Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 
You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 
You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.
It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 
“You’re not… eating?”
That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 
Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 
You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 
The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 
By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 
“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 
“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 
You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 
He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 
You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”
His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 
You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 
He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 
When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 
He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 
You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 
His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 
“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 
~
You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 
Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 
As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.
~
The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 
The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.
~
You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 
You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.
Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 
Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 
You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 
It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 
You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 
“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 
You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 
“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.
A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 
“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 
Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 
“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”
You skip ahead again.
“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”
Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 
“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 
No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 
“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 
You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 
“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 
No, no, no. 
“(See next page for only existing portrait)”
Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 
You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 
Knock! Knock! Knock!
You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 
You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 
“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 
You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 
Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 
“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 
His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 
No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 
“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 
“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 
You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”
You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?
“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 
You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 
“About the estate?” he asks. 
You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”
His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 
You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”
“Anything interesting?” he presses.
This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 
He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”
You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.
“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 
You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.
His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.
“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 
“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 
You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 
He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 
You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.
He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 
Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 
“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 
He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 
“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 
“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 
“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 
You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.
He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 
Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 
“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.
“Mhm?” 
You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 
He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 
He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 
“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 
“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 
The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.
His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 
You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 
He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 
Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 
You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 
You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 
You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 
“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 
“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 
He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 
His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 
You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 
“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 
His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 
“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 
thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 
Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 
“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 
Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 
“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 
His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 
You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 
His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 
You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 
His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 
“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 
You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 
He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 
Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 
Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 
Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”
You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 
There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 
By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 
His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 
You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 
Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 
“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 
Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 
When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?
“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 
Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 
You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 
“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 
“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 
Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 
There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 
Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 
“S-Satoru–”
“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 
You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 
You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…
He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”
It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 
“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 
Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.
“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 
“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 
He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 
“Yes,” you whisper. 
His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 
He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 
“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 
He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 
Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 
His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 
When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 
His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 
He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”
You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 
He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 
“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.
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steveyockey · 7 months ago
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To be aware you might be trans but unwilling to do anything about it is to create endlessly bigger boxes within which to contain yourself. When you are a child, that box might encompass only yourself and your parents. By the time you are a gainfully employed adult, that box will contain multitudes, and the thought of disrupting it will grow ever more unthinkable. So you cease to think of yourself as a person on some level; you think not of what you want but what everybody expects from you. You do your best not to make waves, and you apologize, if only implicitly, for existing. You stop being real and start being a construct, and eventually, you decide the construct is just who you are, and you swaddle yourself up in it, and maybe you die there. There is still time until there isn’t.
This reading of TV Glow’s deliberately anticlimactic, noncathartic ending cuts against the transition narrative you typically see in movies and TV, in which a trans person self-accepts, transitions, and lives a happier life. Owen gets trapped in a space where he knows what he must do to live an authentic life but simply refuses to take those steps because, well, burying yourself alive is a terrifying thing to do. The transition narrative posits a trans existence as, effectively, a binary switch between “man” and “woman” that gets flipped one way or another, but to make our lives so binary is to miss how trans existences possess an inherent liminality.
Humans’ lives unfold in a constant state of becoming until death, but trans people are uniquely keyed in to what this means thanks to the simple fact of our identities. You can get lost in that liminality, too, forever trapped in a midnight realm of your own making, stuck between what you believe is true (I am a nice man with a good family and a good job, and I love my life) and what you know, deep in your most terrified heart of hearts, is real (I am a girl suffocating in a box).
And yet if you want to read the film as being about the dangerous allure of nostalgia, you’re not wrong. I Saw the TV Glow totally supports that interpretation, too! But in tempting you with that reading, the film creates a trap for cis viewers that will be all too familiar to trans viewers. Somewhere in the middle of Maddy’s story about The Pink Opaque being real, you will make a choice between “This kid has lost it!” and “No. Go with her, Owen,” and in asking you to make that choice, TV Glow is simulating the act of self-accepting a trans identity.
See, the grimmer read of the film’s ending truly is a nihilistic one. It leaves no hope, no potential for growth, no exit. Yet you must actively choose to read that ending as nihilistic. If you are cis and the end of I Saw the TV Glow left you with a gnawing sense of dissatisfaction, a weird but hard-to-pin-down feeling that something had broken, and a melancholy bordering on horror — congratulations, this movie gave you contact-high gender dysphoria.
In an infinite number of possible universes, there is at least one where I am still living “as a man,” embracing my fictionality, avoiding looking at how much more raw and real I feel when I “pretend” to be a woman. I think about that guy sometimes. I hope he’s okay.
Consider, then, my cis reader, that TV Glow is for both you and me, but it is maybe most of all for him. I hope he sees it. I hope he breaks down crying in the bathroom afterward. I hope he, after so many years locked inside himself, hears the promise of more life through the hiss of TV static.
Emily St. James, “I Saw the TV Glow’s Ending Is Full of Hope, If You Want It to Be,” Vulture. June 4, 2024.
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soleilapproves · 2 months ago
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Play fighting with Boxer!Sukuna
Note: Reader is referred to as girlfriend at one point.
Masterlist
“Babe.”
“Not right now.”
“Babe.”
“Sukuna, I promise I’ll be done with this book soon.”
He huffed and fell back onto the couch. He had been trying to get your attention for the past 30 minutes but you were adamant on finishing your book. This is all the fault of that damn community book club your coworker recommended you join. Now whenever, you’re off work and Sukuna doesn’t have to train, you’re reading. Usually the two of you spent almost all your spare time together but now you spent half of it reading your newest book for your weekly discussion. You always did your best to spoil him with kisses and cuddles but it was never enough.
Book club be damned, he needed you to be superglued to his side every single second.
“My girlfriend has a side man and he’s made of paper.” He huffed to himself as he watched you intently read. What was so great about your book anyway? Was it worth ignoring your gorgeous (and shirtless) boyfriend? He even had a tattoo of your name on his left pec and you were still choosing to smother a book with your attention.
Sukuna’s wallowing turned him creative- he stood in front of you, trying to make sure your guard was down. You didn’t look up which meant that you were still engrossed in your book. His hand swooped in and swiftly snatched the book from you. “Sukuna.” you groaned. “Give it back, I was at a good part.” You got up to grab it from him but he raised it above his head. “Kiss me.” You glared at him and gave him a quick peck on his lips. “Done, now give it.”
“No.” He nonchalantly replied. “But I kissed you.” You wondered why he was being particularly irritating today.
“That was me begging for a morsel of your attention. Now cuddle me if you want it.” He said and cheekily smirked.
You ignored him and hopped trying to get your book. Sukuna simply dodged your sad attempts and laughed every time you missed. “I don’t even know why you’re trying.” You gave him a pointed look at his comment.
“Okay, fine, you can have your book if you beat me in a fight.”
“What? That makes no sense.” You couldn’t believe this man. “It seems like a fair challenge to me.” He said as he walked to a particularly high shelf and placed your book on top of it. “You know I can just use my stepping stool for that, right?” You said before scoffing at him.
“Then it’s a good thing I hid it.” His sarcastic smile was now pissing you off. “But you literally fight for a living. You have the upper hand.”
“I’m in love with you. Use that as a distraction. Come on, let’s go to the ring.” You were speechless as he dragged you to the fighting “ring” (also known as your bedroom).
Since you had a smaller frame than him, he agreed to let you have the first hit. You sighed and braced yourself. You didn’t have much of a strategy except for charging at him with such a high speed that he’d fall on the bed and would accept defeat.
But as soon as you were in close distance, he caught both your arms, turned you around and threw you on the bed. He didn’t give you a second to get up before he straddled you. “Haha!” He exclaimed. Seeing you all riled up underneath him was a sight he was used to but it never failed to awe him.
“Feels familiar, doesn’t it?” He asked as he began to lower himself to face you. “This is so unfair! You’re like 200 pounds, I can’t even move you.” You said as you tried to push him off. Sukuna grabbed your hands that were fighting him and he playfully wrestled them. Who knows what would’ve happened if he used his real strength.
Thank goodness for your quick thinking because you remembered that Sukuna was extremely ticklish so you pulled your hand out of his grasp with all the strength you could muster up and started poking his sides. “Babe!” He yelled before toppling over to his side. It was your turn to straddle him and before you could pin his arms beside his head, he caught yours and pulled you down to him. He wrapped his muscular arms around you and tucked your head under his chin. Your cheeks were mushed against the very tattoo of your name.
You were literally stuck in one position. The more you tried to move the tighter he’d hold you. “Sukuna, you cheater. Why do I always do this to myself?” You sighed, accepting defeat.
Sukuna kissed your forehead and laid you both on your sides, still not letting you go. “Sweet, sweet victory.” He whispered to himself.
-•-
I need to be (lovingly) smothered by a beefy nerd. Someone like Clark Kent.
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