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sukunas-wife · 10 months ago

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hhey, I accidentally came across your channel and read everything that was there, it's too good. could you write a story about how Yuji grows up? how he starts fighting with opponents or something like that :D?

I suck at writing fighting I’m sorry 😭 I’m terrible honestly so I did it in a different way I apologize in advance 🥺🤍

Yuji growing up UNDER SUKUNA IS CRAZY because 1 Ryomen’s cursed presence is so strong that Yuji’s cursed energy happened to be tied up all cute and pretty with a little cursed energy ribbon made of Sukuna’s cursed energy.

The integration of the two led Yuji to be able to use Malevolent Shrine

🥹 Made his daddy proud the day the three of you were outside and someone tried to ambush your little family, Yuji’s eyes widened seeing his dad calmly bring his hands together “Domain Expansion, Malevolent Shrine.”

The world flashed before Yuji’s eyes with the sound of a bell and drip. It was after that moment when everything was clear little ⅘ year old Yuji pushed his hands together mimicking his father trying to be cool “Domain expansion! Malevolent Shrine!”

Neither you nor Sukuna expected it to work, until it did-

There was Sukuna protecting you from Yuji’s unstable barely registering domain. After everything was said and done. The two of you couldn’t help but look at each other. “Did… did he” Sukuna let you go, “Yuji..”

Yuji ran at his dad with the biggest smile, screaming “did you see that!? Did you!? Did you!?” When Sukuna picked him up, throwing him up into the air, “I did! We need to talk about your little domain.”

That’s where he started his training under his father because he knew no one else could train him as well as he could. It evolved to Yuji being able to use his own energy in fighting. It was the cutest thing seeing your son's little fist while he punched away at some poor little punching bag with his father there mocking him to get him angry to put more curse behind his hits.

“Aw, this sack of sand too much for you brat? Move- I’ll show you how to really put some curse behind it.”

Yuji watched how his dad pinned the punching sack to post and took a fighting stance, in his eyes he could see the red cursed energy glowing skeins his fathers fists and when he struck it was over. The post and sack were nothing, “I WANNA DO THAT!”

It was a beautiful and cursed sight, Ryomen Yuji, (the name changes based on how my brain works I’m sorry 🥹) , he had softer features, but he had developed similar markings to his father. The only thing keeping him from being his father was the vast size difference. He had even taken to using a robe similar to his dads older style.

Ryomen Yuji wasn’t a tyrant, but if he turned out, he very much could be just a cruel man as his father.

Especially when Jujutsu Sorcerer started to trail after him thinking if they could kill the son the father would bend.

They laid corrected in their own pools of blood.

His first solo fight was when he had turned 15 and he asked if he could go to the town to gay a few things of his own. You were weary feeling something was bound to happen, Sukuna pulled you into his side assuring you there is no doubt in his mind Yuji would be able to take care of himself, he would know, he trained him for the last eleven years.

So you let him leave, he was surrounded not too soon before reaching the village, “IT'S RYOMEN SUKUNA!”

His eyes were quick to move around the group “FOOL THAT'S NOT RYOMEN SUKUNA THAT'S-… even better, Ryomen Sukuna may be a monster but even then this boy looks well enough to know someone has to give a damn about him, we need to restrict him.”

There was Yuji imbuing his cursed energy into his fists, it was a scene to watch how he could punch through a man's chest like silk tofu. How easily he could take a man’s head in his hand digging his fingers into their back around their spine to separate them entirely.

He was ágile, being attacked from both sides by men with cursed tools. Blades on chains, swinging in opposing directions grazing his chest and back as he turned to doing his best to avoid them, he took one chain wrapping it around his hand and turning his back to that man pulling the chain I’ve this shoulder sending the man flying into the air. He turned facing the second who was still running at him catching him by taking his face in his hand and crushing his face in , taking the 2nd man’s blade he spun the chain around before slinging the blade at the falling sorcerer piercing his skull leaving him to fall dead to the ground. He carried on with brute force until another wave of Sorcerer's came, he was huffing but he was thrilled, every year of training, every technique and day spent bleeding, fighting and pouring every ounce of energy and raw brute strength and cursed energy.

“Domain Expansion” it felt like time froze, “Malevolent Shrine.”

Yuji’s domain wasn’t as vast as his fathers, but was equally intimidating. There he stood on the pile of skulls in front of the shrine, hands pressed together, “You will see true power.”

It felt like the domain shook when he uttered the simple word “..cleave…” It was a sure hit taking out every living being in the area.

—- —- —- —-

But of course, like father, like son. When Sukuna was going to leave you to go tend to “business” Yuji begged to go, leaving you home with Anya and for a girls week which turned to a girls month.

During this month your boys had learned one thing in battle, they could merge their domains in a way no one else would ever be able to.

Sukuna had heard rumours of some prestigious clan that wanted his head, and if its head they wanted, he decided he’d personally deliver it personally into their city and into their pathetic little lives. Why wait for the fight to come to his home and put his little family at risk when he could go to the fight and strike while the steel is hot and brittle.

That was until Yuji started to beg to go, no matter how many times Sukuna would tell him no he would persist he go with his father. Finally after talking to you, and even when you didn’t want to let him go, Yuji begged and begged using his little puppy eyed beg you caved and said if either of them came back hurt or didn’t come back at all you would remarry and forget about both of them. It was a bluff but the jealousy was enough to make Sukuna squint at you before whacking Yuji on the back of his head lightly, “Let’s go brat, the sooner we get this done the sooner we come back home and your mother won’t roll in her grave.”

Still Sukuna pulled you into him by your waist and kissed you making Anya and Yuji exaggeratedly “eewww” before he left.

They warped quickly now that Sukuna was in a snappy mood, “pfft, remarry, that woman couldn’t find a man worth one of my- oh?”

It was as if the invasion was anticipated, Sukuna used a lower arm to push Yuji behind him, “Stand back brat, I said you could come, I never said you could fight.” It was an instant, every archer and swordsmen surrounding the two had either been cleaved or lit a light. ”Now we’re really going to have some fun.”

Yuji trailed after his father watching how he barreled through everything and everyone with no regard, his actions were quick and precise. He made their way straight to the centre of the shinden-zukuri with ease. Yuji was astounded, his father would always make minimal movement with maximum damage, but this was different, he was just showing off. They were surrounded and the room was suffocating with the large amounts or pressure from cursed energy flowing. He backed up to Sukuna, and they stood back to back, Yuji was ready to fight, Sukuna was amused and having the time of his life, he would win and there was no doubt in his mind. The two fought in a way that reminded Sukuna of the day you fought by his side. A side of you not even his children would ever know. They danced in circles, taking life after life until they were forced closer, as if they had the same unspoken idea both of them expanded their domain not letting the other know.

The world shook in the wake of the combined domain, the humans witnessing the ethereal domain would die without fail.

The shrines combined to make a full size Sanmon gate, strikingly similar to the former shrine. The only difference was that Sukuna stood there like the god Vishnu, Two hands holding his domain symbol just above Yuji’s height level, the other two holding his tools up and on display, Yuji was a step below him with hands in the matching domain form. The two shared a single brain cell in that moment, “Malevolent Temple.”

It had no barrier, it turned into an open space, the hits were guaranteed. In the end when every living thing in the vicinity was reduced to nothing and the domain closed, it came to show even the former shinden-zukuri has been reduced to dust on the ground.

What he would’ve stretched over days of fun they had completed in mere seconds. But now that his eyes had been opened to this new found power he was intrigued and needed to know more.

This led to Sukuna dragging Yuji around with him to test the limits of their new found glory for weeks until he finally allowed Yuji to return home. You weren’t frantic when they returned because Uraume had calmed your beating heart once a week with the messenger birds you had begged him to take along. But you were scared because Sukuna did not slip into bed as he usually would, instead he scooped you up, threw you over his shoulder and brought you outside with him, “Let’s go woman.” Was all you heard as you were shaken awake and met with the morning's cold air, “kuna, love, I’m so tired.”

You felt Sukuna land a smack on your rump, “Just five minutes and I’ll carry you back.” You did your best to look back at him and you caught him looking back at you with a smug smile, “fine.”

He sat you on the steps to your home, where you saw Yuji, he had that look of excitement, his eyes were gleaming the way they would as a child when he’d see his father use a new technique.

“Mom! Mom! You’re going to love this!” You smiled as Sukuna rubbed his thumb over the back of your hand letting it slip from his hold as he made his way back to Yuji.

Tag List: Permanent because this doesn’t feel very squishy 🥺

@sakuxxi @mercymccann @certainduckanchor @najiiix @bakugou-katsukis-wife @amitiel-truth @souyasplushie @mylovelessnightmare @ynjimenez @dolliira @princessluvz

@simpforyoubitch @domainofmarie @ilovemybabies378 @anyaswlrd @cyder-puff

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three--rings · 4 months ago

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You Should Watch The Spirealm/致命游戏

What is it?

A 2024 cdrama based on the danmei webnovel Kaleidoscope of Death. It's a censored version of a BL novel, with thriller, mystery, and horror aspects, 38 45-minute episodes.

What's it about?

A young man accidentally gets drawn into a virtual reality video game that involves passing tests in a series of doors. Once you start playing, you cannot stop and if you die in the game, you die in real life. He meets a frustratingly mysterious, competent, and attractive man in the doors who recruits him to be part of his game solving team. Well, specifically to be his partner. Lots of gay subtext ensues as they fight through door after door seeking to get to the final door in order to end the evils of the game. (The book is a little different, as it's more supernatural.)

So basically it's a infinite flow deadly game situation, with m/m romance.

Main Characters:

Lin Quishi/Ling Juishi (novel/drama versions of his name)- Our protagonist. A smart graduate in computer science, good at games. Well meaning but a little naive to start out.

Ruan Nanzhu/Ruan Lanzhu - Our love interest. In the novel he crossdresses often and he presents as a woman for the whole first arc. Super intelligent, expert at the game, extremely flirty but reserved at the same time. Got one look at Lin Quishi and said That One.

Other Characters, aka the Found Family:

Ruan Nanzhu's team consists of a pair of twin brothers (one young and dumb and one uptight), a hot doctor vet, a woman whose main job seems to be cooking dinner, and a not-so-stable dude.

Then there's Li Dong Yuan, a rival player who becomes reluctantly-tolerated friend, and his cute female assistant. And Tan Zao Zao, an actress who hires the team to help her in the games and also sticks around persistently.

They're pretty much all delightful and some may start off silly/annoying and end up breaking the hell out of your heart.

Okay, but what's the VIBE?

Big Guardian vibes. The team of lovable scamps investigating weird supernatural (?) type mysteries? While the boss and the guy he fell for have a situationship? Totally. This definitely has more of a horror feel than Guardian, though, even though they tone things down from the novel.

Each door is its own setting, and some are more scary than others. So one is a mental hospital, one is a traditional village, one is a gothic manor, etc. Lots of tragic female ghosts who have been wronged and are getting revenge. The one that really creeped me out was the one with the children with the eggs. It does a lot of creepy rather than really horror. It's not truly gory at all, as it was made to air on Chinese TV and they have strict limits to violence.

The camerawork and set decor is really nice, actually. It looks great most of the time and a lot of the effects seem to be practical. It looks a lot better than Guardian is what I'm saying, if not quite to a film level.

How Gay is It?

Oh MY GOD. Okay look, this show was NOT supposed to be released, but thank whoever put it up for that two hours. It's really incredibly blatant, like really as much as Word of Honor was, although because the plot is focused elsewhere it's maybe not quite as in your face. But the actors UNDERSTOOD THE ASSIGNMENT and there's so much longing and SO much implication. After a while, everyone basically just treats the main couple as a couple even thought it's never talked about.

I mean episode one there's Only One Bed and at the end of their first meeting Ruan Nanzhu gives Lin Quishi a RING. I mean, the flirting is also BLATANT. I also just find this a really romantic show, despite the Not Talking About It thing.

Is it a Happy Ending?

So, It's Complicated. I'm trying not to spoil anything and this show is pretty easy to have spoiled for you. There's definitely a good bit of tragedy in this show in general. Characters die and it's really sad. Like, this is a plot with stakes and if no one we liked ever died, it wouldn't be the same.

I will say I consider this show to have a happy ending, but you do go through some pain first. Essentially the main couple does have a separation, but there is a reunion before the end. There's also a scene that will give Guardian fans fucking PTSD, but the show does a fix-it on its own, okay? I do feel that I have to warn for that, though.

Where can I watch it?

The show is legally available on Viki with a subscription. Obviously there are other ways to find it as well, and links went around before it was picked up by Viki so check tags if you need those.

I really hope this encourages some people to watch this show, as it's really well made and a great time. It's one of a very small number of danmei adaptations we've gotten, but a lot less people have watched it since it's modern and had a weird release. Honestly, it's well written and acted and filmed and you should give it a shot.

(All gifs by @ruanbaijie, thank you very much for allowing me to use them. Check out their blog, there's such gorgeous stuff there!)

#the spirealm #cdrama #kaleidoscope of death #致命游戏 #my recs

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stinkywritin · 1 year ago

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Late Night Devil

Lee Heeseung x male reader

Short synopsis: You catch a glimpse of the mysterious figure and your life’s forever changed…

…a nice way of saying gay vampire Heeseung brain rot

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, essentially PWP, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap), top!Heeseung, bottom!male reader, oral (reader receiving), biting kink, praise kink, FILTH IM SORRY

Title from song Teeth by 5 Seconds of Summer

(a reupload a my favorite fic from my old blog)

You felt eyes on you ever since you arrived at the party.

Ever since you walked through the front doors with your mother and father, you felt as though you were being watched. No matter how many times you turned around and checked, there wasn’t anyone looking.

Not until you got to the banquet hall.

Everything was draped in luxurious red cloth, the high ceilings connected to a glass dome which allowed the guests a full view of the starry night sky. The tables adorned with the finest tablecloths and expensive tableware you felt nervous picking up for fear of breaking it, the near overwhelming amount of candlelight contrasting the darkness of the night. The dark wooden chairs complimented the equally as dark tables, the ballroom devoid of all color except for the hints of burgundy.

You continued to feel watched over even as you slid down onto one of the chairs next to your mother, your black coat draped over the back of the chair as you fiddled with the silver rings on your hand. One of the rings on your finger was etched with your family crest, handed down from your father once you became of adult age and joined your father’s oil business. Light organ notes danced in the air as the chatter amongst guests grew louder, more families arriving and filling up the tables.

“Sit up straight Y/N!” Your mother scorned you, her previous lecture of maintaining the family image still ringing in your ears. Her voice sounded strained through the tight corset, you were pretty sure her internal organs were all smushed together. A tight lipped smile stretched on her face as she looked around the banquet hall, many other families and members of higher society. Politicians, heirs to fortunes, royal family members, everyone who had more money than they knew what to do with.

Through your father’s business, your family was ranked fairly high on the social status, no where near the level of royalty but definitely a name with notoriety. You being the eldest son meant you’re the child who received the burden of continuing you family’s legacy, expected to not only further your business’s success but to also hand it down to another son. Either this or marry into an even richer family but you were never interested in any of the female suitors your father brought to you, denying any advance before retreating into your studies.

Your father suddenly beckoned you to his side across the hall, champagne glass in hand along with the most manufactured smile while speaking to other men with the same expressions. Your face was devoid of any emotion as you walked to join his side, the light tapping of your shoes on the banquet hall tile was drowned out by the band in the corner.

It’s not that you didn’t like your father, quite frankly you didn’t know enough about him in order to form a sold opinion about him. You’d seen his multimillion dollar company run so many small villages into the ground, clearing out acres of land for hopes of even drilling a single drop of oil. You heard the protests of the people in your country, pleading for companies to stop their mindless destruction of land but like all the other companies, your father didn’t listen. You had no intention of continuing the family business, hoping that maybe one of your siblings would take it over or that you could personally destroy it from the inside out. Plans to escape the damned family business flooded your mind as you stood next to your father, stone faced as he bragged to a distant colleague about whatever bullshit rich old men brag about.

It was during a conversation about coal plants that you saw him for the first time.

Your eyes mindlessly moved along the grand staircase, up along the marbled railing of the balcony, before spotting him alone with his hands folded along the railing. Eyes instantly meeting yours.

His skin was perfectly smoothed and sculpted, his appearance statuesque as he held strong eye contact with you. The darkness in his eyes matched the slant in his grin, a devious smirk was on his lips as his eyes raked you in, seemingly drawing you closer to him. The dark strands on his head complimented the dark velvet coat on his shoulders, the ruffles of his white shirt peaking forward elegantly.

“Y/N what do you think?” Your father’s voice interrupted your speechless encounter with the brunette, ripping your eyes from the beauty before you to bring you back to Earth. Dante himself wouldn’t be able to fully capture the beauty of the man you laid your eyes on, his descriptions of heaven coming second to the allure of the man who captured your attention.

“Sorry come again?” You replied haphazardly, already tuning out the conversation before you look back up to the gorgeous creature from before. Only in the mere seconds you looked away, he had vanished. Your bewildered eyes searched all over the balcony for him, refusing to believe he was a figment of your imagination.

“Sorry gentlemen please excuse me one moment” you politely moved away from the men, leaving behind a group of insulted men and your angry father. Your heart rate picked up as you began your search for the man from earlier, refusing to let him leave your life as quickly as he had entered.

Your footsteps echoed in the hallways of the palace, the tiled floor ways leading to multiple different rooms. You came across a portrait in a hallway far from the banquet hall, the frame picturing a family with an only child. A son whose eyes seemed to bore into your sole, the faces of the parents had been scratched out, the colors worn pale from age.

“Such a shame isn’t it?” A rich, melancholic voice startled you from your spot before the portrait, the handsome stranger from before suddenly appearing behind you. You hadn’t heard his footsteps, nor any other indication he was near you. “The colors were much more divine when the portrait was freshly made.”

“When was it painted?” You asked the stranger, his smile was playful as his eyes shifted from you to the painting.

His hands were folded behind his lower back as he spoke up, “I stopped counting after the third century.”

Well fuck. Even though everything about that response screamed ‘don’t come near me I’m dangerous,’ something about the way his eyes flatly observed the portrait before you pulled you in for more.

“Do you know the family?” You asked, your voice wavering as you continued to take in his appearance. The man before you seemed to have discarded his coat, the silk of his white shirt now on full display. There wasn’t a single wrinkle, every fold was pressed neatly on his body. If elegance was a person it truly would be him.

“Do you always stutter when asking questions?” His eyes quickly turned to make eye contact with you, a playful slant adorned his lips at his teasing. You couldn’t help the rush of heat to your face, hopefully he couldn’t see the blush on your face but judging by how his smile grew, it was evident he saw it.

“I guess only when I’m talking to pretty people” you shrugged, your eyes traveling away from his to study the portrait once again. The scratch marks on the faces of the parents tore through the canvas, making it obvious someone took a knife to the portrait. Although the colors were muted, you didn’t doubt that the robes and silks worn by the parents were more expensive than your father’s entire company. Then there was the little boy. He looked no more than 6 years of age, cheeks puffed and eyes full of childlike wonder, his face was the only one still remaining on the portrait.

“You can do better than juvenile pick up lines” the man scoffed, your eyes snapping back to him just in time to see him stifle a laugh. “This isn’t a school courtyard.”

You let out a chuckle, already cringing on your cheesy one liner. “I apologize for that sir but I don’t apologize for the pretty laugh it let me hear from you.” Now it was his turn to blush.

It was the chiming of the bells from the clock tower that erased the relaxed feeling between you two.

“Excuse me sir L/N but I’m afraid that’s my queue to leave.” As he started to turn on his heal away from you, a tight feeling within you snapped and you reached out to grab his wrist. Immediately you felt his ice cold skin on your hand, his face contorted in shock as he looked back to you. “What are you-“

“How did you know my last name?” You interrupt him, his furrowed brows softening on his face.

“Seeing as how I made the guest list I’m well acquainted with your family Y/N” his cheeky grin was back, his wrist still in your grasp. You relaxed your hold to let him escape but instead he took another step closer towards you.

“You’re part of the Lee family?” You questioned, even if you already knew the answer. The Lee family was one of the wealthiest royal families in the country, owning a luxurious castle away from all the surrounding villages. Your father said they were weird and antisocial but seeing as how they donated to many charities and political campaigns in the villages, they were immensely powerful. No one from the Lee family held any political or government position in centuries but that didn’t mean they weren’t pulling the strings from afar.

“And you still don’t seem to know my name?” His spunky grin broke you from your deep thoughts. You were face to face with a member of one of the most powerful families in the country, your father’s complaints of their wealth ringing in your ears.

“I’m sorry,” you apologized. “I just didn’t think I’d ever meet someone from your family.” You honestly stated, barely noticing just how close he was to you. Your noses were mere inches apart, a strong enough breeze would’ve been able to bring you two together

“Heeseung.” His voice was slightly above a whisper before he continued, “my name is Lee Heeseung.”

Before your brain could talk you out of it, you took his hand in yours before bringing the back of his palm up to your mouth. You have a slight bow as you pressed a feather like kiss to his ice cold skin, you knew he still had that damn smirk on his face even if your eyes were closed. “It’s an honor to meet you Heeseung, I’m F/N L/N of the L/N family.”

“I’m aware” he snatched his hand back, although the grin was still plastered on his face. “This is my home after all.”

Before turning around to leave, he added “Meet me back here at midnight.” It wasn’t a question, more of an order, but you wouldn’t have refused either way.

“I’ll be waiting.” You gave one more curt bow, at which he scoffed and walked away from you. You noticed he wasn’t walking back in the direction of the banquet hall, in fact he was going in the opposite direction.

You turned back towards the portrait before you and as you looked at the boy in the painting again you felt a heavy weight in the pit of your chest. You could suddenly recognize the boy being Heeseung, a smiling young Heeseung. And suddenly the remark of the painting being more than three centuries old made that weight in your chest even heavier.

——

True to your word you returned to your unofficial meeting spot.

It was a pain in the ass trying to shake off your parent’s prying eyes and overwhelming amount of questions. You hid the fact that you had met — and flirted — with Lee Heeseung from both of your parents, you knew they would demand that you introduced them to him so you made up a lie about getting lost trying to find a bathroom. Seeing your parents fake smiles and having to endure a terrible sales pitch from your father was a special kind of hell that you didn’t want Heeseung to experience. Thankfully they believed your lie and didn’t press any further, leaving you alone for the rest of the evening.

It was a little before midnight, right when you were about to leave to see Heeseung again, that you spoke to your mother. You told her you would stay behind for a little while longer and that they should leave without you, that you’d call a cab later and meet them back at the house. She seemed hesitant to leave you, wanting to know why you would be staying behind but in the end she hesitantly left with your father.

“Just promise you’ll be back in the morning?” She pleaded, cradling your face in the palms of her hands. “Or at least call me in the morning to let me know you’re still alive?”

“Yes mother don’t worry I’ll let you know everything” you offered her a wide grin as she pulled back, the clicks of her heels hitting the tiled floor growing quieter. Once she had gotten in the car with your father, you turned and quickly walked back to the hallway from earlier that evening.

—-

The corridors were empty, only the sound of your hurried footsteps could be heard echoing off the walls. The painting was still just as magnificent as it was earlier in the evening, except as you footsteps took you close to it, you could feel that familiar weight in your chest again. The breaths picked up as you eyed the portrait again, this time feeling as though it was pulling you in.

“You came back” the same honey voice startled you, Heeseung suddenly appearing next to you. He grinned at your attempts to catch your breath, your eyes still wide from the scare he gave you.

“Of course” you huffed out, composing yourself by straightening your back to look him in the eye. “I had some questions.”

Heeseung quirked his head to the side while his eyebrows furrowed in confusion, the smile still plastered in his face. “Questions?” He paused, you gave a shaky nod in reply. “Alright well, ask away.”

“Is that you?” You pointed to the little boy in the portrait, his goddamn grin was making it ten times harder for you to focus on trying to make sense of him.

“Yes that’s me.” Heeseung flatly responded, his eyes traveling to look at the portrait. “I think that was my sixth birthday if I can recall correctly.”

“And you said this was made over three centuries ago correct?” Your voice was wavering, your whole body feeling heavy with anxiety and dread. “How old are you?”

“Y/N don’t you know it’s considered rude to ask someone their age when you first meet?” Heeseung’s met with yours again, seemingly able to bore holes into your brain. As if he could sense the panic coursing through your veins, he sighed before answering “I can’t remember how old I am or how many years are passing by, they all seem to blur together and over time I found it’s easier to not count my age anymore.”

Heeseung’s entire demeanor changed; he was no longer carrying himself with a high level of confidence, instead of the usual cockiness there was a melancholic tone to his voice as he longingly stared at the portrait.

He continued, “I was normal just like you, just human. Until at age 20 I was turned into this by my lover. He turned me into this so that we could be together for all of eternity but shortly after I turned he was killed by some hunters from a village up north. I was 20, a freshly turned vampire and completely estranged by my family for choosing a male lover.” He clutched something in his hand, turning it over before he took a seat on the tiled floor. His back was pressed against the dark walls as he beckoned you to sit next to him.

Once you were sat next to him, your hands making contact with the cold tiles of the floor as your back rested against the wall, you could see a small locket in his hands. The metal was scuffed and old, showing signs of years of use.

“This family,” Heeseung continued. “It’s made up of vampires from all over the country who are just like me. No family to turn to, no friends and partners to depend on, nothing. The Lee family took me in, no questions asked and I’ve been here since. And while the banquets and parties have been quite distracting, I still haven’t been able to find anyone to grow closer to, not since I died and became this.”

A fresh tear had escaped from Heeseung’s eye, it traveled down his cheek until hitting the floor, the man not bothering to wipe it away.

“I’m sorry Heeseung” you shakily whispered, hoping your voice was loud enough to be heard by the vampire next to you. The weight you had felt in your chest earlier — the intense panic over what creature Heeseung was and whether or not he was dangerous — had started dissipating at his words. Not entirely however, and it seemed Heeseung could still sense the remaining anxieties.

“Don’t apologize I haven’t even answered your question yet,” Heeseung wiped the remains of his tears off of his cheek while letting out a small — forced — chuckle. You were forced to go to banquets and business meetings and a bunch of other gatherings of snobby rich people, you were used to fake smiles and even faker laughs; however Heeseung’s was the most heartbreaking of all.

“As for age all I can say for sure is that I’ve been a vampire for a little over 400 years,” Heesung’s fingers messed with the locket in his hand as he spoke. “Anything else you’d like to ask Mr. L/N”

Heeseung had cocked his head to look at you, his eyes instantly letting yours. Sitting beside you was a supposed ‘creature of the undead’, something that up until recently you believed to be fake and the material for fiction. And yet the way Heeseung’s smile seemed to fill your being with bliss was anything but fiction, the way he had drawn you in even if you had only met that evening was a beautiful reality.

But that doesn’t mean you don’t still have questions.

“If you say you ran away to join this family how did you get that painting?” The teasing in your tone evoked a surprised laugh from Heeseung, the atmosphere surrounding you two had lightened, no longer full of worry.

“I’ve been alive longer than your great grandparents don’t question how I get stuff brat” Heeseung playfully pinched your shoulder, sending you two into a lighthearted scuffle that ended with Heeseung’s thighs straddling your lower torso.

“Ok I yield!” You huffed out between fits of laughter. As your chest rose and fell from your attempts to catch your breath, you could suddenly feel how close Heesung was. His hands held your wrists to the floor, his upper body draped over yours. “Okay one last question.”

“Ugh enough with the questions!” Heeseung chuckled out. After seeing the pleading look in your eyes he nodded his head, telling you it was okay to ask what was on your mind.

“Why did you ask me to come back here at midnight?” You asked, the underlying tone of your question being ‘are you going to kill me because I would please like to know in advance’.

“Is my interest in you not obvious enough?” Heeseung softly replied, grin widening when he sees the blush rise to your face. The hands that were on your wrists were now interlocking with yours, his hands delicately squeezing yours as he rested his forehead atop yours. “And here I was thinking you were also interested.”

“I am!” You helped out, causing a fit of giggles to erupt from Heeseung at your eagerness.

Heeseung’s hands were still interlocked with yours as he calmed down, his face still so close to yours. The way his eyes were sparkling with joy made the weight dissipate completely. Heeseung’s faced leaned impossibly closer to yours, his lips mere centimeters away from yours. “You’re so gorgeous the second I saw you I knew I had to talk to you. I knew I would miss the rest of the banquet because I had some business to take care of with another town’s mayor. Corrupt politicians and what not, such a pain to clean blood stains on carpets by the way.” Heeseung rolled his eyes at his comment, you could feel your heart rate pick up at the way his eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips.

“But I knew I had to see you again which is why I asked you to meet me here.” You felt your dick twitch at his words, the smirk playing on his lips was evidence he felt it too.

He started to slowly — so achingly slowly — roll his hips over your bulge. “The entire job I pleaded with the universe to let me see you again, all I could think about was how gorgeous you are Y/N.”

“Heeseung” you panted out, the fabric around your cock getting tighter. “Please kiss me.”

“Absolutely my love” Heeseung’s lips slotted perfectly with yours, your body heat felt as though it rose an extra 30 degrees. The way his lips fit with yours felt like an explosion of pure bliss, immediately opening your mouth to let his tongue in. The way Heeseung kissed you as if he was planning on devouring you made your head spin.

It could’ve been 30 seconds or 3 years but the kiss felt of pure heaven. No amount of time would ever be enough to fully satisfy the need you felt for each other, you thought this as Heeseung’s hip rolls began getting faster. After a particularly loud moan escaped your lips, Heeseung murmured into your ear, “Let me take you to bed my beauty.”

You eagerly nodded as he lifted you both up on your feet, leading you to his bedroom door while having his hand interlaced with yours. You two couldn’t help the giggles or the chaste kisses while you ran to his room.

—-

“Lie on your back for me sweetheart” Heeseung’s voice has seemed to drop a few octaves, sounding huskier as he pushed you back onto his silk sheets and started undoing the buttons on his shirt.

You quickly undid the laces of your boots, chucking them across the room before fumbling with the buttons on your shirt. You huffed in annoyance as you had difficulty getting your shirt off, Heeseung — who was now shirtless — took notice of your frustration and let out a low chuckle. His hands clasped yours as he placed them on you, slowly moving your hands down onto the bed before eagerly grabbing the collar of your blouse and tearing the fabric open. You gasped at the sound of the fabric ripping but quickly began to let out a deep groan as Heeseung began placing soft kisses down your chest. His lips were ice cold, making goosebumps rise all over your body from the drastic shift in temperature.

“There’s no time for slowly unbuttoning clothing” Heesung whispered into the skin on your sternum. His eyes switched back up to meet yours, the look of pure lust painting his eyes, “I want you now.”

“Then take me.” You gasped as Heeseung pushed your upper body down onto his bed, grabbing your hips and quickly pulling down your trousers and underwear, leaving you bare under him. You wrapped your legs around his waist, pulling him close to you to bring him into another heated kiss. You felt the fabric of his pants on your cock as he began to grind his clothed bulge onto yours. The friction causing you to bite at his lower lip, your fingernails scratching onto the skin on his shoulders. One of his hands moved to graze over your bulge, the cold skin causing a shiver to run up your spine.

Heeseung continued to kiss and bite at the skin on your jawline as he wrapped a hand around your cock, giving it a harsh but arousing tug. “Knew you would sound heavenly darling” Heeseung said into your ear, the strokes of his hand becoming more even. “Knew it the second I laid my eyes on you.”

“Heeseung-“ you were cut off by your own whine as Heesung sharply removed his hand to slap your thigh.

“That’s hyung to you brat” Heeseung gave your thigh another harsh smack before bringing two fingers up to your lips. The pads of his icy fingertips grazing along your lower lip so slightly you could barely feel it. “Now open up.”

You opened your mouth to let his fingers dance along your tongue, wrapping your lips around his fingers and sighing. Heeseung’s eyes were fixated on the sight of you sucking on his fingers, his cock growing harder. He pulled his fingers out from your mouth before sliding them over your tight hole, inserting one finger in as you gasped in surprise. His fingers were still so, so cold, causing you to shiver again.

He slowly worked his finger in and out of your hole, teasing his second one before pushing them both in and stretching you open. As his fingers worked to stretch you open, Heeseung licked a stripe from your thigh to the base of your cock. You let out a loud yelp as he licked up the length of your cock, your hands flying to yank at the dark locks on his head. “Oh hyung that feels so good” you moaned out, your eyes squeezing shut from the overwhelming waves of pleasure that were washing over your body.

His fingers quickened their pace as Heeseung’s dark eyes looked up at you, he whispered with the head of your cock pressed against his bottom lip, “cum in my mouth gorgeous.” Heeseung’s mouth took you in, warmth engulfing your entire body as you cried out in pleasure. You could feel the pleasure overcoming you, making your brain foggy as all your senses were being overwhelmed.

All of a sudden the coil in you snapped, you came down his throat as he eagerly swallowed every drop you let out. Even as you came down from the intense feeling, his fingers were still working you open — albeit at a slower pace. When his fingers grazed your prostate you shivered while your thighs began to shake, throwing Heeseung a confused gaze.

“You didn’t think we were done did you?” His smirk causing your thoughts to muddle, he abruptly removed his fingers before smacking your thigh again. “Sit up now darling I haven’t gotten my fix yet.”

He laid back against the dark wood of his bedpost, a pillow separating his lower back from the wood. He removed his pants and underwear before turning to you and patting his thigh, beckoning you over. You let out a small chuckle, your post orgasm brain somehow finding the cheesiness of it all a little amusing.

Heeseung tilted his head in confusion as you crawled over, placing his hands on your hips before saying, “why are you laughing, darling?” He pulled you down to sit on his lower torso, his cock nestled between your cheeks which caused the blush on your face to deepen in slight embarrassment.

“You’re so cute” you placed an innocent peck on his lips, Heeseung gave you what felt like a hundred more as a response. He held you close as the grin on his face grew larger, both of your giggles breaking the kisses. As you both calmed down from your giggling fit, the eye contact you held began intensifying. Heeseung’s eyes seemed to hold all the stars in the night sky with the way they sparkled up at you, the light blush on his face deepening as you held him close.

His hand ran through the hair on the nape of your neck, his wide eyes and large grin seemed to distract you from the fact that you were both completely bare. His finger started to drag from the bottom of your ear down the slope of your neck before whispering, “Can I bite you darling?”

You could feel your soft length grow interested at his question, your eyes widened as they filled with curiosity. “You want to turn me?” Your question made the vampire look up at you, an unreadable look in his eyes.

“I don’t have to turn you.” Heeseung started, his cold hands tightening their grip on your skin. “I can feed from you and as long as I don’t take too much you’ll still be alive and, well, human.”

When the word ‘feeding’ fell from the man’s lips, you suddenly remembered the man — the vampire — below you could very easily kill you in two ways; by either draining all the blood from your body or turning you into an undead creature for the rest of eternity.

“I’ve been alive a long time Y/N” Heeseung’s voice bringing you back to the present. He continued, “I can control my appetite, I will not take more than you can handle and I will stop if you tell me to. You have my word darling.”

Instead of giving him a verbal response, you tilt your head to the side to give him full access to your neck and collarbones and nodded. Heeseung’s hands roughly pulled your hips up, aligning his length with your entrance before pulling you back down to sit on his lap. Your body shivered at the overwhelming pleasure coursing through your veins, the head of Heeseung’s cock was pressing against your g spot, leaving you full.

As you tried moving your hips, Heeseung would stop your movements to slam you back down onto his lap. His hands moved from your hips further down to hold your ass, his tongue licking over a spot on the crook of your neck. Your neglected length had been interested even after already orgasming once, however all pleasure before this failed in comparison to the feeling of Heeseung’s fangs piercing into your skin. His hips moved achingly slowly as he sunk his teeth into your neck, your grip on him tightening. Even if you had only met Heeseung that night you already knew he had ruined sex with anyone else in the future, it would be only him for the rest of your existence.

Heeseung’s hips kept a slow pace, his soft groan was muffled while he fed from your neck. The intense pleasure coming from Heeseung’s movements juxtaposed the sharp pain on your neck, your post orgasm brain becoming even muddier. You felt Heeseung remove his fangs from your neck, placing kisses on the marks left behind while his hips picked up a faster pace. The sounds of your bodies moving together echoed throughout the room, your pants being interrupted by Heeseung’s voice in your ear giving you encouragements.

“There you go, that’s my good boy.”

“Knew I had to have you the second I laid my eyes on you.”

“Darling you tasted so good, did so well for me.”

“Be as loud as you can for me Y/N, don’t hold back.”

The familiar sensation from earlier came back, this time magnified by ten. You could feel your muscles tightening as you reached your climax, your grip on Heeseung’s shoulders becoming more tense.

“Hyung I’m close,” you whined out. His thrusts were precise and fast, aiming and nailing your g spot head on every time.

“How cute,” Heeseung’s low voice went straight to your hard cock, his hand wrapping around your length and stroking in tandem with his hips. He continued, “My good boy wants to cum for me a second time. Make a mess for me sweet boy, I’m right there with you.”

You reached a moment of euphoria, your entire body tightening up before you came all over Heeseung’s hand. You felt Heeseung reach his high because his thrusts stilled, his grip on your body tightened before he went slack. Your body slumped into his as you now began trying to catch your breath. You heard Heeseung let out a giggle as he held up your tired body.

“Nope you’re not getting off that easy.” Heeseung quickly flipped you onto your back below him, the speed shaking you awake. His body was bent over yours, he brought one of his hands up to your mouth and put his palm to your lips. It was the palm that was covered in your release, “lick it off baby, you’re helping me clean up.”

You quickly licked your release off his hand, holding eye contact with him the entire time so you could see his proud smirk. His lips graced yours once you finished, your entire body slugging back into the sheets below you. “I’ll be right back baby.”

Your eyelids felt heavy while you watched him get off his bed, making his way across the room while nude which gave you a shameless view of his body.

He returned momentarily with some bandaids, along with a glass of water. “Sit up for me darling,” he said as he sat down next to you, putting the glass of water into your hands once you were up right. You lazily drank from the cup as Heeseung applied the bandaids to the wounds on your neck. “It’s not too bad but better safe than sorry.”

It seemed the vampire’s entire demeanor had changed, his touches soft on your skin as he took your now empty cup and placed it elsewhere. He laid back next to you, pulling the covers over your bodies before pulling you closer to him. “How do you have so much energy?” You grumbled, looking up at the vampire to see his bright smile.

“I don’t get tired,” Heeseung’s hand carded through your hair and scratched your scalp as he started talking, making it very difficult to stay awake. He continued, “It’s that vampire stamina, I don’t need sleep or rest. I don’t eat food either, well besides blood but it doesn’t have to be human. I physically can sleep, I just don’t need it to function so it’s basically just a nap.”

“Does that mean you can go another round?” Your hand had been lazily tracing patterns onto the vampire’s cold skin, slowly moving down his torso. Your body was still sluggish from your two orgasms but seeing the devious glint in Heeseung’s eyes was lighting a flame to your body.

“I don’t think you can keep up with me baby” Heeseung roughly pulled the (H/C) strands on the back of your head, pulling you up to make direct eye contact with him. “But if you insist.”

His teeth grazed your bottom lip, the feeling of his fangs eliciting a high pitched whine from the back of your throat; you might’ve bitten off more than you could chew.

Authors Note: Hey it’s V sorry about deleting my old blog but I’ll bring back a majority of my old fics. If you enjoyed, thank you very much !!! These are v fun to make and help me take my mind off real life stuff lmao. That’s it for now, brb folks -V

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen x male reader #lee heeseung #lee heeseung x reader #lee heeseung x male reader

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sexiestpodcastcharacter · 1 year ago

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Sexiest Podcast Character — Scripted Bracket — Round 3

Propaganda

Peter Nureyev (The Penumbra Podcast: Juno Steel):

His character is the reason the term "Homme Fatale" became a thing

Homme fatale, living by the mantra of be gay, do crime. V secretive and just the right amount of flirty. Also I love him

He’s a slutty master thief who slept with a detective he went on 1 date(murder case) with and then fell ass over tea kettle in love. Literally can’t think of anything sexier

Antigone Funn (Wooden Overcoats):

An extremely agoraphobic mortician of a local funeral home who has every disease. Nervous wreck. Makes noises when stressed. An artist at heart (her embalming fluid is imbued with the fragrance of cinnamon).

she's the goth gf of your dreams. she's an undertaker, a romance novelist, a hot air balloon pilot, and she has interiority for days

It's antigone or unfollow me

please, everyone, antigone deserves this. she ghost-wrote a wildly successful erotic novel and then faked the death of the fake author. she didn’t leave her house for 17 years except to go see horny french films every thursday. she accidentally ended up in a love triangle with a hot domme lesbian circus ringmaster and her own employee. she broke up with a doctor after one date because he didn’t respect her career (and also his parrot hated her). she experienced years of carnal yearning for her professional rival only to finally realize she was actually okay on her own. she drinks embalming fluid. she thinks of funerals as an art form. she was diagnosed with depression as an infant. she wanted to be a clown when she grew up. her hero is a historical female scientist who has a statue with her tits out. she’s been attacked by owls. a bunch of children thought she was a forest witch. the rest of the village thought she was dead. she has committed multiple counts of breaking and entering. she designed artisanal chocolates that put you in a temporary coma. she can’t eat her own chocolates because she’s allergic to everything. she attracts shadows like a magnet. she’s a woman in STEM. if you have any love in your heart for goth weirdgirls you’ll do the right thing. ANTIGONE SWEEP

GUYS PLEASE

PLEASE VOTE FOR ANTIGONE!!!!!

CMON DON’T LET MY GIRL “CANNONICALLY WANTED BY EVERYONE ON THIS ISLAND” LOSE!!!

Considering committing voter fraud for Antigone. My girl 😔

Vote Antigone because do you understand how narratively satisfying it would be if she won??? Season one? She could barely go outside her mortuary. Season four? Modeling for a sexy calendar. THE CHARACTER GROWTH!!!!!!! Nothing more sexy than that.

COME ON Y'ALL VOTE ANTIGONE. VOTE FOR MY HORNY GOTH QUEEN!!!!!

VOTE ANTIGONE OR DIE

IF YALL DONT VOTE ANTIGONE UR BLOCKED. This isn’t even a joke.

#Round 3 #Peter Nureyev #Antigone Funn #The Penumbra Podcast #Second Citadel #Wooden Overcoats

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depressedhatakekakashi · 6 months ago

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A Story Book Scene

Words: 4008

Pairing: Kakagai

Prompt: Rain

A beautiful piece of art drawn by @jventureart to start this fic off. Can you guess what’s going to happen? If you read through the whole thing you’ll also find a second, secret picture at the bottom (that will probably make you laugh your butt iff XD)

“Take the night off. Relax, work on an essay if you really feel the need to do something. Just don’t worry about the shop tonight.”

For the first time in four months, Gai didn’t have to go into work on a Monday night. It was a strange feeling that came with a sudden day off. A mixture of excitement at the prospects of what he could do with this new found time off, and a hint of annoyance.

“You couldn’t save it for one day?” he asked, his eyes focused on the dark sky above as rain drummed against the classroom window. “A storm on a Tuesday is so much better. There’s nothing to miss on a Tuesday.”

Monday, though, was his favorite day to work. Not because of the calming quiet that filled the little bookstore only to be interrupted by a single customer every hour, or because he knew he’d be able to go to the café next door on his way in and pick up a cup of apple cider to keep him war.

It was his favorite day because it was the day he came in.

The one day a week when Gai got to see the most beautiful person he’d ever laid his eyes upon.

“Work on my essay,” a flash of lightning lit up the sky just as he spoke, engulfing the school grounds in light for just a second before disappearing. “How am I supposed to work on my essay when I don’t even get to see him?”

It was a silly concern of course. There were more important questions he should have been asking himself. Like how he was even going to get home in such a terrible storm when it seemed like everything in the village was shutting down.

Yet, he couldn’t help but dwell on it.

Kakashi’s visits to the bookshop every Monday were the highlight of his week. The one thing he looked forward to above all other things in his week. It had even taken the top spot of ‘favorite weekly occurrences’ from his father’s weekly visits to his tiny apartment for dinner.

Losing such an important event in his week was going to make his week even more difficult to trudge through than normal. He’d still do it, of course, but it would take more effort than usual.

“Alright,” dragging his eyes away from the window he closed his notebook and reached down to grab his backpack. “Can’t hang around too long. Ningame’s probably having a terrible time at home having to listen to this storm.”

Shoving all of his things into the backpack, he stood up from his seat and stuck his arms through the straps and waited for the familiar weight to settle against his back before heading for the door. The walk home was only ten minutes, but it was ten minutes in which he would be faced with a complete downpour.

Weather so terrible that it was almost guaranteed to ruin his clothes, his bag, and everything inside of it.

“I’ll just have to carry it in my arms.” a smile tugged at his lips as he thought it over. Anyone who saw him running through the rain with his bag clutched against his chest was sure to laugh at him, but he didn’t care. All of his notes from the last week of classes were in that bag, and his mid term was coming up.

He couldn’t risk losing anything.

Stepping out into the hallway he watched as it lit up with a blinding flash of light, followed closely by the sound of thunder crashing through the air.

“I’ll run,” pushing forward, he headed for the nearest exit he could remember. “A ten minute walk turned into a five minute run. three minutes if I really push myself. It’ll be no time at all before I’m back home with Ningame.”

The house he was renting with Genma and Ebisu was just outside the University grounds, and lucky for Gai all of his classes were in the building closest to the house. He didn’t need to deal with crossing the giant field in the center of the school to get home.

Stopping in front of the door he slipped his backpack off and wrapped his arms around it, holding it tight against his chest. “Ok,” he took a deep breath and braced himself. “It’s just a bit of water, Gai. It can’t hurt you.”

As if challenging his words, the sky lit up with lightning once more. A beautiful display of power that no human could ever hope to take on.

Using his shoulder to push the door open, he stepped outside and was greeted by the torrential downpour of rain that had caused every business in the town to close down for the day. Without hesitation he broke into a run, his back held tightly against his chest and the sound of thunder cracking pushing him to run faster than he had ever run before.

Fumbling with his keys, Gai listened to the rain assaulting the patio roof just above his head. The run home had proved to be more difficult than he’d anticipated, with the wind blowing against him every step of the way and rain soaking into his clothes weighing him down.

Just as he found the key he was looking for the door knob began to turn and the door swung open, revealing Genma standing on the other side in his favorite yellow PJ pants and the shirt Gai had gotten him for his last birthday that said “How do you give a ninja directions? Across the top and “Don’t worry, he’ll find you!” At the bottom with a cartoon ninja in the center.

“You look like you’ve had a good time,” he smirked. “What’s the password?”

“Genma’s a loser?”

“No, that was last weeks password,” he sighed.

Gai frowned. “the password changes on Tuesdays.”

“Usually, yes,” his friend confirmed. “But I got inspiration for a new password today.” Sighing, Gai crossed his arms over his chest and waited for his friend to fill him in. “What, you’re not even going to try?”

“I’m soaked, Genma,” he whined. “I want to change and cuddle up to Ningame and you’re in my way. Tell me the password.”

Rolling his eyes, Genma stepped off to the side and waved to the inside of the house. Not willing to miss his opportunity, Gai bent down to grab his bag and stepped forward into the comfortable warmth of the house. “It’s ‘weirdo in the rain’ by the way.”

Gai was mid step when Genma spoke, and for some reason he stopped. He wasn’t sure why, but he was certain he’d heard something strange in the way Genma had told him this weeks new password. It hadn’t come out in the same joking tone he always had when he informed Gai and Ebisu of the new password, but instead was spoken with what sounded like amusement.

“Weirdo in the rain?” he asked, frowning when Genma nodded his head. “What kind of password is that? Why would you- wait…” Genma’s words repeated in his mind. “You said you got inspiration for this password?”

“I did,” Genma confirmed. “And not just because the last one Ebisu chose was boring.”

“It was not!” Ebisu called out from the kitchen.

“Anyways,” waving Gai in, Genma sighed when he was met with a firm look. “I was on my way home just as the storm was starting up and I saw some weirdo standing in the middle of the field staring up at the sky.”

Stepping out of the kitchen, Ebisu made his way to Genma’s side and elbowed him in the side. “Not just any weirdo,” he insisted. “It was Gai’s weirdo, wasn’t it?”

“I don’t know that for sure!” Genma argued, returning Ebisu’s jab with a solid punch to their friends arm.

Glancing between the two, Gai felt the frown on his face deepening. “What do you mean ‘my weirdo’?” he asked.

“You know the one,” Ebisu insisted while he rubbed the area of his arm Genma had assaulted. “That guy you never shut up about. He has silver hair and a scar on his eye.”

“I wasn’t close enough to see a scar,” Genma clarified. “but he did have spiky silver hair and there was a pug sitting on his shoulder, and you said the guy who visits your bookstore always has a pug with him.”

Realizing just who they were talking about, Gai dropped his bag beside the shoe rack, snatched up the dripping wet umbrella that one of his roommates had left propped up against the shoe rack, turned on his heel, and headed right back out the door,

“Hey!” Ebisu called after him. “Gai, where are you going!?”

“To make sure he’s not still standing outside in this weather!” He called back as he headed straight back toward the school.

The umbrella he’d stolen did little to stop the rain from assaulting him. With every step he took, Gai could feel the wet fabric of his clothing rubbing uncomfortably against his skin. Still, he kept walking.

Continued to push forward, ignoring every complaint running through his mind.

When he reached the edge of the large field in the center of the school he peered out through the rain in search of a familiar figure. Only two seconds after beginning his search he spotted it.

A tall figure with a small lump on his left shoulder standing to the left of the field, just a few steps away from the University Library. So close to the warmth of the library, safe from the onslaught of rain. Yet, as Gai watched him he made no movements.

He simply stood there allowing the rain to fall upon him.

“You’ve really done it now, Gai,” he sighed as he began the long walk toward that lone figure. “You had to choose that one, huh? The guy who stands outside in a storm just waiting to get sick? That’s the one you want?”

Yes.

The answer came almost immediately, from somewhere deep inside of his soul. It wasn’t a response crafted by his brain where his options were well thought out and carefully selected. No, it was a desire. An answer that came straight from his heart and overrode any sense of logic.

‘This one’ it reminded him as he came closer to the other man, that spiky silver hair he had admired since the first day they met finally visible in the darkness of the storm. ‘who else would I choose?’

Shaking his head Gai chuckled.

A few months ago he’d dared to ask himself why it was his heart had chosen Kakashi. What it was about the man that he stood out to him above all others, and he had been unable to come up with an answer.

No matter how much he dwelled on it, how much he tried to find an exact reason to his feelings, he’d been unable to.

There was no logic to his feelings, and he couldn’t help but think that it was perfect.

Whatever it was he felt for Kakashi, it couldn’t be argued for or against. It simply was.

Kakashi was the person who had gone and stolen his heart, and not even seeing the man standing outside in the rain had done even the smallest amount of damage to that affection he felt.

“You…” he came to a stop at Kakashi’s side and moved the umbrella so that it was now hovering over his head, doing as much to block out the rain as it had done for Gai on his journey here. “Are ridiculous, you know that?”

Turning his head, Kakashi stared at Gai with dark black eyes, a sparkle of excitement shinning when he saw just who it was now standing at his side. Now that he was closer Gai could see just how much damage the rain had done, and it was a much more beautiful sight than he had prepared himself for. Kakashi’s usual spiky hair was plastered against his forehead, and there was rain soaked into the cloth mask that he always wore. A normal person would worry even more about Kakashi’s health just looking at him.

Gai wasn’t normal, though. He knew he should be concerned with Kakashi’s health, but all he could think about as he stared at the soaking wet man in front of him was just how handsome he was.

How his eyes seemed to light up when lightning came crashing down from the sky, or how calmly he moved as he took a step back so that the umbrella Gai had placed over his head was no longer blocking the rain at all.

“I’ve been told,” he confirmed with a cheerful note in his voice. “Not that you have much right to speak. You’re out here too.”

“I’m out here because someone has to make sure you don’t get sick.” reaching out with his free hand, he watched as Pakkun stretched out and gave his hand a sniff before bumping his head against his palm. To Kakashi’s credit he did see a little rain suit covering Pakkun, though he wasn’t sure how much it was protecting him from the cold.

“You came all the way out here for me?” Kakashi’s eyes sparkled, but this time there was a different expression Gai noticed in them. An expression he’d only seen once before, when Kakashi had insisted that there was no one in the entire town who knew as much about Romance novels as he did.

Arrogance.

An annoying expression to see on anyone else turned into something beautiful when it was Kakashi who was wearing it.

Turning his face away, he muttered out a restrained ‘thank you’ to the storm for providing him with cover so that Kakashi couldn’t see the way his eyes darted around searching for something other than Kakashi to focus on, or how he pulled his lips into a tight, thin line.

“Gai,” Stepping around him, Kakashi closed his eyes in that adorable smile of his. “Did you really come out all this way for me?”

“Yes,” He confirmed, sighing when Kakashi began to laugh. “You’re standing outside in a storm, Kakashi. A storm, might I add, that has caused every single business in town to close down for the night.”

“Ah, is that it?” taking a step back Kakashi tilted his head back and stared up at the sky. “You’re worried about me because of a little rain?”

Watching as the rain splashed against Kakashi’s face, he couldn’t help but laugh a little. The whole situation seemed absurd. Everyone else in the town was either tucked away safely in their homes, or on their way home. They’d found shelter away from the rain as soon as they could.

Everyone except for Kakashi, and now Gai.

“So,” he lowered the umbrella, no longer interested in wasting his energy on trying to keep Kakashi dry when that was clearly the opposite of what he wanted. “You like the rain?”

“Like?” Kakashi lowered his head to stare at him once more. “Gai, I love the rain.”

‘I love the Rain’

A Kaleidoscope of butterflies came bursting to life in Gai’s stomach when he heard that. Fluttering around knocking against every wall so that his stomach felt like it was about to explode with joy.

In all of the time he’d known Kakashi he’d never been blessed with the sound of him saying that he loved anything.

He could gush about every single romance novel he read, of course, and there was no doubt in Gai’s mind that the man respected a lot of people including some of his professors and friends like his friend Tenzo who he dragged to the bookshop at least once a month, claiming that he needed to ‘get out of the greenhouse once in a while’.

But Love was a word that Kakashi used very sparingly.

“Love,” he smiled, swallowing down the response he wanted to give. The one where he told Kakashi how that word so perfectly described his feelings for him. Instead, he pointed at Pakkun. “More than you love him?”

Glancing over at the Pug that was still sitting so patiently on his shoulder, Kakashi reached over, gently lifted him off of his shoulder, and held him out in front of him. “what do you think, Pakkun?” he asked, chuckling when the pug answered him with a bark. “You’re right. There’s very little in this world I love more than you.” With that said he pulled his arms in and hugged Pakkun tight against his chest as another streak of lightning cracked through the sky.

Gai stayed glued in his spot, his smile growing as he watched Kakashi openly hugging his dog and the butterfly’s still crashing around in his stomach.

Earlier, when his boss had given him the day off to avoid the storm he’d felt annoyed. Upset that he wouldn’t be able to see Kakashi on the one day a week he was usually guaranteed to see him. Now, standing in front of Kakashi as the rain soaked through their clothes, he was thankful for his boss’ kindness.

If he hadn’t given him the night off, he may have missed out on the best thing he could have possibly experienced.

“Oh,” Kakashi’s eyes focused on him once more. “but you’re soaked! You’re going to get sick if you stay out here.”

Gai’s eyes widened for a moment, and then the next second he was laughing. A bright, boisterous laugh that seemed to fill the air around them. “you-“ he swung his umbrella up and gently tapped it against the top of Kakashi’s head, earning himself a rather unimpressed glare from the other man. “Have I told you that you’re ridiculous?”

“You said that when you arrived, yes,” reaching up, Kakashi swatted the umbrella away.

“Well, you are,” allowing the umbrella to drop back to his side he turned on his heel and directed himself back toward his house. “Come on, I have hot chocolate at my place. Or, if that’s too sweet for you I’m sure I can steal some of Ebisu’s tea.”

“Tea?” Glancing back at him, Gai watched as he thought the offer over. “A cup of tea would be nice.”

“I might even have a romance book for you to borrow,” he continued. “It’s not the same as the books at the shop, but-“

Before he could finish what he was saying Kakashi showed up at his side and grabbed hold of his hand. “Not that I’ll turn down a book if you’re offering it,” he began, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “But I think even you can agree that this, right here, is a much better romance.”

A streak of lightning lit up the sky at that moment, lighting up Gai’s face just as his eyes went wide with shock. In the span of two seconds everything he knew about the quiet, reserved Kakashi had been thrown right out the window in favour of a brave, upfront romantic.

His eyes darted down to Kakashi’s hand holding onto his. For months he’d wondered what it would feel like to hold Kakashi’s hand in his, and now he had his answer.

It felt warm.

Like he was holding the most precious object in the world.

His fingers curled around Kakashi’s hand as a smile spread across his face. “You really are something,” he chuckled. “Did you learn that one from one of your books?”

“Fireworks in Osaka,” Kakashi confirmed, the name falling from his lips with ease. “When Akiri takes Sakura out for a ramen date it begins to rain and…well,” his eyes flickered up to the sky. “Akiri offers to take her to the bookstore where they can wait out the rainstorm and Sakura can choose a romance book for her collection. Sakura answers that-“

“I think even you can agree that this, right here, is a much better romance,” Gai repeated the words, the butterflies in his stomach fluttering around so much that he was beginning to feel nauseous with love.

“Ya,” Returning his gaze to Gai, Kakashi chuckled. “it’s cute, isn’t it?”

“It is,” tugging on Kakashi’s hand, Gai reached out with his other arm and wrapped it around his back, careful not to hit him with the umbrella that he was still holding. As he did he heard Kakashi gasp as his body collided against his, their faces now so close that their noses were touching. “I can think of something cuter, though.”

“Of course you can,” Kakashi grinned back at him. “Pakkun is adorable after all.”

As lightning crashed through the sky, lightning up the field for one precious moment, Gai was gifted with the most beautiful image. Kakashi’s eyes scrunching closed as he laughed, his soaking wet hair pressed against his forehead with droplets running down from his forehead, over his nose, and down to his chin.

Releasing Kakashi’s hand, he lifted his hand up to that beautiful face and gently cupped his cheek. “He is,” he agreed, watching as those beautiful black eyes opened and focused on him. “But I was talking about you.”

His next movement wasn’t planned. He didn’t really know what he was doing until he was already moving, and by that point he had no intention of stopping.

Kakashi’s mask was soaking went against his lips, but there was a warmth to the kiss that overrode that scratchy feeling of cloth rubbing against his lips. A comfort that came with Kakashi’s hand settling on his back, fingers curling into the wet fabric of his shirt.

Gai had kissed many people in his lifetime, and all of them had been real, proper kisses. No fabric between them blocking him from feeling the softness of their skin.

Yet, none of them compared to this kiss. None of them brought such joy to his heart that he struggled to pull back, even when his lungs burned with a need for air. Not one of those kisses, no matter how wonderful they had been, came close to comparing to this one.

“See?” Kakashi chuckled when they finally pulled away, his eyes still focused on Gai’s face. “Rain really is the most romantic weather.”

“Maybe,” running his thumb along Kakashi’s cheek, he smiled. “I might need another kiss to confirm that, though.” He began to lean down, but before he could touch his lips against Kakashi’s again a finger settled against his lip.

“Perhaps a proper kiss would serve better?” as quickly as the words left his mouth Kakashi had removed the mask that covered the lower half of his face, allowing Gai the rare opportunity to see just what lay under neither.

An opportunity he was certain anyone else would take advantage of, but which he didn’t bother to dwell on. As soon as the mask was off he swooped in to kiss Kakashi once more, this time the warmth of the kiss no longer just a feeling inside of his soul, but an actual sensation against his lips. Kakashi’s lips were warm. His skin was warm, even in the cold of the rain.

The first kiss they had shared had stood above all others, but this one-

There was nothing in the world that could compare with the feelings that ignited inside of Gai’s heart when he kissed Kakashi a second time.

Rain really was the most romantic weather. That was a sentence Gai could now confirm was true without a shadow of a doubt. Sunshine was brilliant, but rain had given him the greatest gift he could have asked for. It had allowed him the opportunity to see Kakashi, the man he’d always known as being reserved and quiet though a bit of an arrogant shit at times, in his true light.

As the romantic dork he always seemed to bury inside of his books.

Rain had provided Kakashi with the perfect opportunity, and for that Gai would happily make it his new favorite weather.

#Kakagai Week 2024 #Kakagaiweek2024 #Kakagai #Bookshop Worker Gai au

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dukeofdelirium · 4 months ago

Note

https://www.tumblr.com/greenfiend/760014880863649792

these people are gonna explode when S5 drops

“who cares about his crush”

1) it isn’t a crush, he’s in love w Mike and

2) hundreds of thousands of ppl care just on tumblr alone

“the story is about monsters”

I mean… yeah, somewhat. But those monsters very clearly represent something. Like homophobia and the AIDS epidemic, which tie in to Will’s character and also into Mike and Will’s relationship. I mean, the allusions to this have been very on the nose every season, especially s2 with how the doctors/scientists treated Will in comparison to how gay men were treated during the AIDS epidemic.

“His scenes are pointless distraction from the larger story”

Will is literally the confirmed main character and focal point of the 5th and final season. He was the entire reason this story even happened at all. He was the one singled out and taken to the upside down. He was the focal point of the entirety of s2. And in s3 and s4, the moment he isn’t the focus, the show declines in quality. The entire time that Will is focused on in these seasons, the writing forces you to feel bad for him and forces you to simultaneously hate anything and anyone that is upsetting him. S3 and s4 weren’t about some gay kid pining hopelessly over an unattainable straight friend. It was written to make you hate Mike and El together. It was written to make you want Mike to be with Will where he actually acts like himself again. It wasn’t about Will being alone and sad, it was about Mike not being with him when you know he should be.

What do these ppl think is gonna happen in s5? Do they actually think that Will is going to confess his undying love for Mike that is unrequited and that Mike will be like “that’s weird of you Will and I don’t feel the same but we can stay besties <3” and then Will is like “no Mike I totally get it, I’m gonna kms now so you an El can go to the local village with 3 waterfalls” and then he just walks into the upside down and dies and it all fades away or something? 😂😂😂😂😂

The upside down, the monsters, all of it is a manifestation of Will’s trauma and emotions. It’s a metaphor for the homophobia and abuse he has experienced as a young gay kid, as well as being closeted as a survival tactic… hello, Will is trapped in a cold, dark and lifeless world where nothing can survive (he can’t breathe, the air is toxic, it’s suffocating) and he is forced to hide there but he is really good at hiding (bc you get really good at hiding who you are in order to live) and his best friend Mike, who is literally a Paladin in D&D (like his knight in shining armor) must rescue him from this scary world (the closet) *wink wink nudge nudge*

It’s literally a gay love story between childhood friends with the cool sci-fi and horror elements tacked on enough to where you won’t notice it until you either care enough to analyze the show OR you watch the final season and it slaps you across the face in a very unsubtle way (byler endgame)

#stranger things #byler #anon #byler is requited #byler is endgame

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d-z20 · 2 months ago

Text

The Ballad of Agatha Harkness Chapter 3

Summary: Agatha's brutal lessons continue but she has discovered something - or someone - to comfort her.

Warnings: slight physical (with magic)/mental/emotional abuse

Word count: 2.1k

A/N: The mommy issues becoming very clear now and tbh I can't blame her. I think we're all in agreement that we hate Evanora. Next chapter is where it starts getting real gay folks

Read the story on AO3 | Master List

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Sorrow and Solace

The air was thick with the chill of early autumn, the kind that burrowed under skin and nestled deep in your bones. The coven’s central hall sat half-hidden under the long-reaching branches of an old oak tree, its roots like gnarled fingers clawing at the earth. The building was humble - rough-hewn logs held together by magic woven with necessity and silent resolve - but within its walls, power pulsed and tension coiled like a serpent ready to strike. The smell of the damp earth mingled with the sharp tang of herbs drying in bundles over the hearth, filling the space with a soothing musk. Shadows flickered on the rough, wooden walls as blue-flamed candles sputtered in their sconces, illuminating the hardened faces of witches whose loyalty was stitched with threads of fear and ambition.

Among the coven, there were those who watched Agatha with awe and those who watched her with suspicion. Isobel, a witch with dark curls and a voice that could enchant an entire village, saw potential in Agatha but feared the shadow she cast. Greta, an older witch whose loyalty to Evanora was absolute, marked every sign of defiance with thin-lipped disapproval. Agatha Harkness was not yet a woman, but neither was she the child who once stared wide-eyed at the world. She was no more than twelve, but her eyes held a storm that belied her years. She sat rigid on the cold floor, heart thumping in anticipation and dread as her mother, Evanora Harkness, moved to the centre of the room.

Agatha’s gaze flickered for a moment, a habit born from years of reading her mother’s expressions as one reads a cipher. Evanora’s presence commanded silence; she wore power the way others wore cloaks. Her fingers, long and pale, seemed to weave invisible threads as she spoke, each word binding the coven in a spell of obedience. She stood at the head of the gathering, eyes sharp as a hawk’s, scanning the room for any sign of weakness.

“Today,” Evanora began, her voice slicing through the low murmurs, “we will push beyond the ordinary incantations. You will learn what it means to wield power that breaks the chains of mortal restraint.”

The room remained still, hanging on the edge of Evanora’s every word. The witch turned her cold eyes on Agatha, a look that demanded not only attention but compliance. Agatha’s stomach churned, not from fear alone but from the gnawing need to earn even the faintest flicker of approval from her mother.

“Magic is not kind. Magic is not gentle. Those who wield it must be harder that the iron at a blacksmith’s forge,” she continued.

This was not an invitation; it was an ultimatum. She would master this lesson, or the consequences would etch themselves into her skin like scars.

The witches gathered there glanced at each other, some eager, others masking their trepidation. Isobel kept her eyes fixed on the floor, lips pressed together tightly. Greta, her sharp nose tilted upward, shot a glare at Agatha - a look brimming with distrust and scorn. Greta’s loyalty to Evanora was not born from admiration but from fear; she had no space for rivals, least of all ones that came from within their ranks

Evanora’s eyes bore into her child. “Stand, Agatha.”

The young girl rose slowly, the old floor creaking under her weight. Agatha’s heart thudded with a mixture of dread and anticipation. The flame of a candle sputtered as if sensing the tension. For a split second, she almost glanced at Isobel, seeking an assurance she would never allow herself to need. Evanora raised her arms and a blast seared through the air, hitting Agatha square in the chest. A collective gasp swept through the coven; only Agatha and Evanora stood unmoved.

Pain exploded in Agatha’s limbs, sharp and fierce, but she locked her knees and forced herself not to tremble. The air grew even thicker with the scent of burning wax and something more acidic. A sharp, echoing voice in her mind, one that sounded like her mother’s yet twisted with her own doubt: This is how you prove yourself. Do not falter. Do not fail.

Agatha’s fingers curled as she reached out instinctively, a violet shimmer appearing between her palms. Evanora’s expression twitched, not with pride but with calculation, a fleeting assessment of the threat this child might one day pose.

“Hold it,” Evanora ordered, eyes narrowing. “Do not let it shatter you.”

The room darkened at the edges as Agatha’s vision tunnelled, the force pressing down on her like a weight that threatened to crush her. Panic started to bubble up, but then came that whisper - a whisper carried through the void with a familiarity that made her heart lurch.

“You are more than their fear Agatha. Take it. Control it.” Rio said.

The voice reached inside Agatha and pulled her back from the brink. The words were a lifeline, wrapping around Agatha’s fragile confidence and bolstering it against the storm. Her panic dissipated, replaced by a spark of defiance unfurling within her, mingled with the aching need for approval that had anchored her since she could remember. The voice seemed to embolden the very core of her that had learned to crave validation, to chase it like a hound after a rabbit.

Agatha felt a surge of power, hot and wild, twisting through her veins. Sweat beaded on her forehead and her lips parted in a silent gasp. Agatha’s eyes flashed violet, just for a moment, as her fingers tightened and the violet shimmer grew brighter and sharper cutting through the blue that held her captive. The tensions snapped like a taut rope, and the force shattered outward in a shockwave that extinguished every candle in the room

Darkness reigned for a heartbeat. The witches around her shifted uneasily, their breaths shallow. When the first candle flickered back to life, it revealed Evanora’s expression. Evanora’s eyes were wide, a flicker of surprise that quickly hardened into a glare. The moment of silence was suffocating. Agatha resisted the instinct to shrink under the weight of her mother’s scrutiny, the learned fear pressing against the edges of her resolve.

The coven remained silent, eyes darting between mother and daughter. For a moment, a spark kindled in Agatha’s chest, a taste of something sweet and forbidden. It was fleeting, but there - perhaps her mother would finally see her as enough.

Evanora lowered her hands, the blue dissipating into the air with a hiss.

“That was satisfactory,” she said. Though her expression was anything but approving. “But control is nothing without understanding. Practice until you bleed if you must.”

She turned on her heel and swept out of the room, calling one last remark over her shoulder. “You should be good at this by now Agatha.”

In the lingering silence, Agatha’s gaze drifted to the smouldering wick of a candle, the flame stubbornly refusing to die. A silent promise formed in her mind: I can be good Mother. I will be good.

When night fell and the wind sang mournful songs through the branches of the forest, Agatha slipped away from the cabin, careful not to leave tracks that might be discovered come morning. She reached the hollowed tree at the forest’s edge, a place where no one followed and no one dared to look too closely. The tree’s interior, lined with the faint ghostly glow of fungi, held secrets that no other witch in the coven would touch.

Agatha’s hands were still trembling from the lesson in the coven hall, her mother’s words echoing in her mind: You should be good at this by now. Here, in the quiet of her sanctuary, she allowed herself a moment of vulnerability. The ache in her chest was a familiar one - the endless chasm of trying to earn a nod of approval, the constant fear of never measuring up.

Her voice small and wavering broke the silence. “What did she see?” she wondered aloud, tracing the cover of an ancient tome with shaking fingers.

It was a question that clawed at her heart, an echo of her need for approval tangled with her fear of becoming something monstrous.

“She saw a rival, m’lady,” came a voice, soft as moonlight filtering through the leaves.

Agatha’s breath caught, and she swallowed hard. The voice had been with her as long as she could remember, an unseen presence that seemed to know her heart’s deepest secrets. She didn’t know who it belonged to or where it came from - only that it arrived when she felt most alone, a whisper that always seemed to answer the questions no else dared acknowledge. And so that is what she called them: the Whisper - her Whisper.

Agatha had bitten back a smile at the pet name. It seemed every time her mother found a new way to tell her she was no good, her Whisper countered it with names that made her feel cherished, if only for a little moment: My Wildflower, My Whisperling, My Lady of Shadows. Each one soothed the sting of her mother’s cruel words, weaving a thin thread of comfort through her otherwise cold world. They made her feel seen in a way that the coven never had.

“Back again so soon?” Rio teased, gentler this time, as she knew this moment was sacred.

Agatha nodded, eyes glassy with determination. “I have to be better. I have to be enough,” she thought aloud. It was a mantra born from years of watching her mother’s eyes search for flaws.

The hollowed tree was more than a sanctuary; it was a repository of forbidden knowledge. Illuminated by the faint glow of phosphorescent fungi, an assortment of ancient tomes and scrolls rested within. Forgotten text, deemed too dangerous even for the coven, lined the hollow’s hidden walls. Agatha reached out and ran her fingers over the cracked leather binding of one such book, its title written in runes that spoke of necromancy and ancient, shadowy arts. It called out to her, not with the urgency of her mother’s demand but with a quiet promise of understanding, of power that could be her own.

“You seek what others fear,” Rio observed, a note of caution lacing her tone.

Agatha’s jaw tightened.

“I need her to see me,” she whispered, feeling the familiar burn of unshed tears from wanting to be seen not as a threat or a failure, but as something worthy.

“Knowledge comes at a price,” Rio had interrupted Agatha’s thoughts, her voice neither condemning nor approving, simply aware.

“Then let it be paid,” Agatha replied, a hint of defiance in her voice as she opened the book and traced her fingers over the symbols within. The rush of ancient power skimmed beneath her skin like a hidden river, dark and eager. She could almost hear her mother’s voice warning her against the dangers of power untamed, yet she pushed it aside. This was hers.

The memory of how she’d first found the hollow crept into her mind. It had been an accident, led by an inexplicable trail of flowers that wound through the forest, their petals whispering secrets to those who dared to listen. Agatha had followed, captivated, until she found the hollowed tree and its trove of forgotten magic. Rio often guided her here, nudging her to find what she needed to become more than the sum of her fears.

Yet not everyone was blind to her shifting power. Greta’s voice sharp and unforgiving, had recently cut through the din of the coven hall as she spoke to those willing to listen.

“She is not like us,” Greta had said, her eyes following Agatha with a narrowed glare. “Too much power, too much ambition. That girl will be the undoing of us all.”

The words reached Agatha, though she pretended not to hear. They pricked at the fragile shield she’d built, reminding her of the eyes that watched, wary and resentful. But here, within her sanctuary, those whispers dissolved, drowned out by the quiet, conspiratorial glow of the forbidden. Rio’s unseen presence encouraged her and the forbidden tomes yielded their secrets willingly. Each word of incantation was another step toward something greater, something that might one day earn her the pride in her mother’s eyes that she so desperately sought.

For the first time, Agatha felt the raw, untamed potential within her grow, not under the glare of her mother’s scorn, but in the quiet refuge of the hollow. The coven could think what they liked; Greta could mutter her fears. Here, where the moon rose higher and spilled its silver light through the cracks in the tree’s bark. Agatha whispered an incantation that hummed with dark promise.

The road ahead was uncertain, paved with whispers and shadows. But it was hers.

Next Chapter >

#agatha x rio fanfic #agathario #agatha all along #agatha harkness #rio vidal #agatha x rio #fanfic #fanfiction #agathario fanfic #agatha all along fanfic #agatha backstory #evanora harkness #agatha all along backstory #agathario fic #rio x agatha #rio vidal x agatha harkness

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mandoriana · 3 months ago

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Salazar Slytherin (Pendragon)

Curiosities about Salazar Pendragon:

Salazar is the youngest son of Merlin and Arthur.

He is the only one of the siblings who can always see Thestrals because he was weak and almost died when he was born.

Salazar is the "mama's boy"; Merlin spoils his youngest, and Salazar loves the attention from his mother.

Since he was little, he has had Basil, a basilisk. Merlin allowed Salazar to keep the young Basil because he trusted his son to control the magical creature.

Salazar walks very gracefully and rarely falls unless one of his siblings trips him, which happens often because the others inherited Merlin's clumsy legs.

Salazar has Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD), and his hyperfocus is snakes.

Sal is the second tallest among the siblings, standing at 1.90 meters, only shorter than Godric.

Basil hatched on the same day Salazar was born. Merlin felt the connection between the two and decided to let the young Basilisk live with Salazar until the creature grew too large.

Sal is afraid of horses because they remind him of Thestrals.

Sal loves astrology and would spend his entire life looking at the starry sky if the sun didn't eventually rise.

Merlin was always more concerned with keeping Sal out of sight due to his magical "asthma" (instead of lacking air, Sal's magic can suddenly drop and kill him unless someone helps by transferring magic to him).

Arthur and Salazar spent nights awake looking at the sky. Initially, it was because Arthur wanted Merlin to sleep and knew his husband wouldn't agree out of fear of leaving Sal alone, but it soon became a tradition for the two.

Salazar's autism comes from Arthur.

Salazar is gay.

Salazar created the first wand with a phoenix feather. Since using his magic was dangerous, he solved the problem with the wand, which allowed him to better control the amount of magic he used and thus avoid risks.

Salazar spoke Parseltongue because Basil taught him.

He is the best swimmer among the siblings and loved swimming in the lake with Basil.

When he founded Hogwarts with his siblings, he thought it was okay to mix magical and non-magical people, but when a nearby village started a witch hunt, Sal lost faith in humanity.

Sal was the last of the siblings to die.

Sal never had a husband or children, but he fell in love with a man once. When the man discovered magic, he started the witch hunt.

He loves drawing and was the one who designed the layout of Hogwarts Castle. This is also how he created the Chamber of Secrets where Basil could live for years.

Salazar inherited from Merlin the druids' ability to speak telepathically. Thanks to this ability, he developed the Legilimency spell, allowing him to read minds and detect lies, which he uses to protect his family.

Gaius died at the age of 100, so Sal had time with his grandfather to learn some medical tricks.

Salazar has a secret garden where he cultivates plants and herbs, many of which he uses to create potions and remedies.

Besides Basil, Salazar has a special affinity with other magical creatures, such as griffins and Aithusa, and often spends time caring for them.

Salazar is known for accidentally creating several cruel spells. He tried to create one that would make cuts for surgical purposes, but it went wrong and became an Unforgivable Curse (Crucio).

He has a collection of ancient magical artifacts that he found on his travels with his siblings, each with a unique story.

Arthur feared not having moments with Salazar because, unlike his other children, Sal hates swords. So, to have father-son bonding time, Arthur began teaching Salazar to play the flute and guitar.

Salazar keeps a Pensieve where he stores his most precious memories, including special moments with his family and important magical discoveries.

Salazar loves the sea and frequently visits the coast to swim and explore underwater caves, where he finds rare ingredients for his potions.

He is responsible for gifting Rowena with pearls he finds during his visits to the sea.

He keeps a detailed diary of his family's adventures and achievements, ensuring that the Pendragon history is preserved for future generations.

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religion-is-a-mental-illness · 6 months ago

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By: Andrew Doyle

Published: Jun 25, 2024

The impact of the riots at the Stonewall Inn in June 1969 has often been overblown. Those few summer days when the beleaguered gay community fought back against the police on the streets of New York City are rightly considered a milestone in the struggle for equal rights in the West. But endless arguments about ‘who threw the first brick?’ have obscured the truth that gay equality was achieved by the activists who persisted in the aftermath, harnessing that energy and changing the world forever.

Perhaps a more important milestone was the march organised by a handful of campaigners a year after Stonewall. Craig Rodwell’s idea had been to make this a yearly commemoration that would supersede the ‘Annual Reminder’ picket events that he had been holding every Independence Day in Philadelphia since 1965. It would be known as the ‘Christopher Street Liberation Day’ – later retrospectively rebranded as the first New York ‘Pride’ march – and it was orchestrated chiefly by Rodwell, Fred Sargeant, Linda Rhodes and Ellen Broidy.

The march took place on 28 June 1970, and it was an audacious display. Police hostility to gay people was rife, the local media were overwhelmingly unsympathetic and there were fears of violent repercussions from observers. The day passed off peacefully, perhaps because of a general sense of astonishment that thousands of gay people would assemble so openly. A reporter for the Village Voice wrote that ‘no one could quite believe it, eyes rolled back in heads, Sunday tourists traded incredulous looks, wondrous faces poked out of air-conditioned cars’. At the head of the march, Fred Sargeant carried a bullhorn and called out instructions to the marchers as they made their way from the West Village to Central Park.

Fifty-four years later, and Pride has transformed from an important act of resistance into a month-long orgy of corporatism and virtue-signalling, full of heterosexuals desperate to identify themselves into an oppressed group with the help of trans ideology. ‘Progress Pride’ flags flutter from every high-street store. This relatively new design – a kaleidoscopic eyesore that has replaced the traditional six-stripe Pride flag – is emblazoned on schools, universities, hospitals, civic buildings. In the city of Arlington in Texas, this year’s family friendly Pride event included displays of dildos, half-naked drag queens and human dogs in bondage gear, all co-spon.sored by Lockheed Martin, the world’s largest producer of armaments. In London, numerous pedestrian crossings have been repainted with the ‘Progress Pride’ motif. Police horses find walking across the coloured stripes confusing and disturbing, so the animals have undergone special training to overcome their fears. After all, it is essential to address the rampant homophobia within the equine community.

What might the thousands who turned out on that summer day in New York in 1970 make of this distorted version of Pride? Those gay men and lesbians who risked social ostracism and physical violence to gather in public have little in common with this garish and unsettling facsimile. A poll from 2021 determined that almost 40 per cent of Americans between the ages of 18 and 24 now identify as LGBTQ. Given the vast majority identifying as such do so as ‘trans’, ‘nonbinary’ and ‘queer’, this means it is statistically certain that gay people are now the minority in this coalition. The early pioneers of gay rights didn’t risk so much for their movement to be usurped by fetishistic heterosexuals with a martyr complex.

It would be interesting to see polling data on how many gay people support Pride in its new ‘trans-inclusive’ incarnation. One recent poll on X asked a simple question: ‘Do you want Pride anymore?’ And although 93.5 per cent of respondents replied in the negative, social-media polls are notoriously useless and we would be unwise to draw any conclusions from them. Still, it is surely significant that this poll was reposted by Fred Sargeant, and that his answer was a resounding ‘No’. That the man who led the first Pride march, bullhorn in hand, should now reject the annual event that he co-created because of its embrace of gender ideology is far from trivial. Nor is it trivial that while handing out pamphlets critical of the trans movement at a Pride event in Vermont in 2022, Sargeant was physically attacked by trans activists.

[ A parade through New York City on Christopher Street Gay Liberation Day, 1971. ]

He is not alone. Many gay people have expressed dismay at the metamorphosis of Pride and feel that it no longer represents them. This can be confusing for those who have not been paying attention to its ongoing political evolution, but there is a very good reason why groups of gay men and lesbians are now holding alternative Pride rallies this year. In August 2022, police insisted that lesbians leave a Pride parade because their banners, proclaiming that ‘lesbians don’t like penises’ and ‘trans activism erases lesbians’, were causing consternation. When gay people are being escorted away from Pride marches by the police, we can safely say that the movement has fallen.

Some might argue that the LGBTQIA+ explosion is an example of what happens when liberalism goes unchecked, that it is the natural consequence of an excess of tolerance and the rise of identity politics. Yet while identity politics in its current intersectional form has proven to be deeply illiberal and regressive, there have been sound reasons throughout history for people with shared characteristics to organise and resist. Unlike the various campaigns for imaginary victimhood that dominate today’s ‘social justice’ causes, being openly gay in the 1970s came at a huge cost. At the time of the first Pride parade, every state in the US with the exception of Illinois criminalised gay sex. In services and employment, discrimination against gay people was permitted, and even most progressives assumed that homosexuality was a mental illness. This is a world away from the exaggerated or fabricated grievances of the diversity, equity and inclusion industry today.

Now that gay people have complete equal rights under the law, the protest element of Pride has been appropriated by those with an apparent craving for oppression. Asexual activists, for instance, have taken centre stage at certain Pride events, even though nobody in the history of humankind has ever been burned at the stake for not wanting to have sex. It isn’t the case that those who identify as asexual are facing discrimination; it’s that nobody cares about what they don’t get up to in the bedroom. But of course, for those of a narcissistic temperament, there can be nothing more devastating than being ignored.

[ Furries march on Congress Street during the annual Pride Portland parade, 2017. ]

Many of those who call themselves ‘nonbinary’ are similarly vocal, but there is no serious comparison to be made between the historical persecution of homosexuals and experiencing some pushback when you demand that others refer to you as ‘they’ or ‘them’. Coming out as gay in 1970 increased the risk of being violently assaulted; coming out as ‘nonbinary’ today only increases one’s chances of being employed at the BBC.

Of course, all of this must be symptomatic of the developing cult of victimhood in the Western world. Ironically, there is now power in being the victim. Those who claim to be ‘marginalised’ are able to get people fired, drive them from public life, and harass and bully them in the name of ‘progress’. Who would have thought there was so much clout in being oppressed?

Far from being a collective gesture of unity, Pride is now widely interpreted as a celebration of homophobia. This is because it has become infected with gender ideology, which seeks to eliminate gay people from their own history. Although trans-identified individuals were rarely seen at activist meetings and events in the early decades of the gay movement, revisionists are now insisting that gay people owe their rights to the hard work of trans campaigners. We are told that a black trans woman, Marsha P Johnson, was the key figure at the Stonewall riots. This is wrong on many counts. The riots were overwhelmingly dominated by young gay men. Although Johnson took part in the demonstrations, he wasn’t present when the rioting began. Most significantly, by his own admission, he was a transvestite who didn’t identify as female.

Fred Sargeant has been much vilified for exposing the truth of what took place in these early years of the gay rights’ movement, and he is now a thorn in the side of activists whose worldview depends on a narrative that runs contrary to the truth. Recently he posted a link to the Digital Transgender Archive on the Third International Conference on Transgender Law and Employment Policy, which explicitly outlines how gay and trans movements in the 20th century were completely separate. The conflation of the LGB and T is an invention as recent as 2015. As the document explains, while the gay-rights movement in the US began in the 1920s, ‘the existence of a transgendered community that seeks reforms did not come into existence until the 1990s’.

The historical revisionism doesn’t end at Stonewall. Activists have attempted to claim that certain gay historical figures were mistaking their true trans identity for homosexuality. Just as Mormon priests have been known to baptise the dead and thereby convert them unwillingly to their cause, trans activists have been busy harvesting the annals of history for potential recruits. Those falsely claimed as trans include George Eliot, Dr James Barry, Radclyffe Hall and Joan of Arc. People who were gay and gender nonconforming are particularly vulnerable to this kind of retrospective ‘transing’. It’s very convenient for activists that the dead can’t complain.

While many trans campaigners consider themselves supportive of gay rights, overt homophobia is nonetheless often tolerated and encouraged within their circles. There are innumerable examples online of trans activists claiming that homosexuality is a form of transphobia and that only bigots have ‘genital preferences’. ‘If you’re a cis gay man’, writes one, ‘and your sexuality revolves around you not liking female genitalia I hope you die and I will spit on your grave’. A video recently went viral featuring an activist explaining to gay men why they should transition to female and that ‘maybe being gay is an outdated concept’. An online influencer called Davey Wavey uploaded his attempt at gay conversion therapy in a video entitled ‘How To Eat Pussy – For Gay Men’. One can imagine it being shown to young men at an evangelical Christian retreat for those who wish to find a ‘cure’ for their immoral urges.

This isn’t simply a case of a handful of lunatics on the fringe – this idea has also been normalised in mainstream gay culture. Australia’s Human Rights Commission prohibits lesbians from holding female-only events on the grounds that it discriminates against men who identify as female. Sall Grover, the founder of women’s app Giggle, is currently in a legal battle in Australia because she refused to allow a man to join. Stonewall has even redefined ‘homosexuality’ on its website as ‘same-gender attracted’. Its former CEO, Nancy Kelley, once suggested that women who don’t wish to date trans people are ‘sexual racists’. No, Nancy, they’re just gay.

We have seen all this before. In the 1980s, it was a common trope for gay men to be told that they ‘just haven’t found the right girl yet’ and to suggest to lesbians that they ‘just need the right dick’. The rights of homosexuals depend upon a recognition that a minority of people are attracted to their own sex. Once sex is eliminated from the equation, gay rights are no longer tenable.

The most obvious example of how gay rights have been threatened by trans ideology is that young gay people are disproportionately at risk of surgical ‘correction’. Given that between 80 and 90 per cent of adolescents referred to the NHS Tavistock Clinic were orientated towards their own sex, it is clear that in many cases homosexuality was being treated as gender dysphoria. I am usually mistrustful of accusations of various ‘phobias’ which can be used as a rhetorical technique to discourage disagreement. But if medicalising people for being same-sex attracted doesn’t qualify as homophobic, I’m not sure that anything does.

And so Pride and its accoutrements have come to represent an ideology that seeks not only to erase the foundations of gay rights, but also to re-conceptualise same-sex attraction as a condition that requires medical treatment. When police officers decorate their cars with the Pride colours, when NHS workers display the rainbow lanyard, when schools decorate their halls with bunting in solidarity, they are almost certainly doing so with the noble intention of promoting equal rights. But they are inadvertently promoting a movement whose end goal is the eradication of homosexuality.

This is not to deny that the ‘Progress Pride’ flag and all it represents have been embraced by many gay people. It is clearly the case that a majority have not realised the extent to which the flag has been hijacked for a cause that actively works against their interests. The situation has hardly been helped by prominent celebrities, often now referred to as ‘Vichy gays’, who have cheered on this sinister development. Homosexuals are not immune to the condition of useful idiocy.

Given that Pride has become so divisive, and given that so many lesbians, bisexuals and gay men now consider it to be an essentially hostile enterprise, it would be prudent for corporations and government bodies to stop pretending that there is a consensus on this issue. Ignorance is no longer an excuse. By flying the ‘Progress Pride’ flag, they are taking a side in a highly contentious cultural debate, one that alienates as many gay people as it attracts. Those who are serious about gay rights need to distance themselves from Pride once and for all.

When the demand for 'oppression' outstrips the supply.

Time to resist again.

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