#and a new one is established elsewhere in the city

[impossible-rat-babies]

I’m thinking about my worldstate rn

[salmonmakiii]

ᯓ★ Your boyfriend had been busier than usual, with the burden and responsibilities of being a Chrysos Heir and all. You'd often watched how drained he looked whenever he finally made it home.

This time was no different. He'd been out of the city for a week, pushing back the Black Tide. Still, you weren't too worried; he sent updates now and then. You believed in him, you always do! He usually comes home without so much as a scratch.

So, you decided to surprise him. He mentioned he'd be back at Curtain-Fall Hour, and what better way to say "Good work!" than by dolling yourself up just for him after a tough mission? Consequently, you bought a new set of lingerie...

The thought of your boyfriend getting flustered and caught off guard had you practically jittering with excitement.

The moment you heard the front door open, you turned to the mirror for one last check. You adjusted your lingerie, fixed your hair, and then stepped out slowly, eager to see that stunned look on his face.

But this time, you were the one left in shock. ᯓ★

Wc: 1,523

Cw: Fem!reader x Mydei, Fem!reader x Phainon, Suggestive, established relationship, mentions of injury, kind of OOC...? maybe (the boys are freaky). For plot reasons, let's just say Mydei's wounds don't heal instantly.

Notes: Back from the dead to write this itchy drabble I've been thinking of... I'm so normal for Phainon and Mydei lol.

Mydei stood before the front door of your shared home, the familiar sight alone already easing the tension from his shoulders. His body ached, bandages wrapped across his torso, joints stiff with soreness, and a limp in his step from the lingering strain. He exhaled slowly, the weight of the day heavy in his breath.

What would you think if you saw him like this? All bruised, battered, barely upright? Still, knowing you, he could already imagine it. You'd accept his vulnerability without question. You'd hold him in your arms without hesitation.

The thought alone tugged a small, quiet smile from him.

He stepped closer, pulling out the spare key, the cute lion key chain you gave him dangling. He unlocked the door as it let out a soft click in the quiet. He pushed it open.

"I'm home," He called out softly.

The living room was empty... huh. You were usually sprawled on the couch, waiting with a smile. No matter, he'd remove his armor first and find you after. His hands reached up to unclasp the golden pauldron on his shoulder, fingers fumbling slightly from the fatigue.

Then he heard footsteps. Yours.

He barely had time to register them before the gasp that followed snapped his attention upward.

Both of you froze, eyes wide, equally shocked.

Clank!

The pauldron dropped to the floor in the dead silence.

Titans. You looked breathtaking.

The red lingerie you wore was delicately revealing. It consists of two finely crafted pieces joined by loose strings along your sides. One pull, and the entire ensemble would fall away. It hugged around your body perfectly, accentuating the curves of your chest and just enough of your thighs to make his breath hitch.

And suddenly, miraculously, every ache in his body vanished.

Well... almost. The ache had simply... shifted elsewhere.

"Mydei! What happened to you?!" Your frantic voice pulled him back to reality.

He blinked, momentarily lost in your presence. He opened his mouth to answer, but only jumbled stammers escaped.

...what?

Why is he stammering? Alongside fear, stammering is not in the Kremnoan dictionary. He hadn't even known he was capable of stammering. Clearing his throat, he tried again.

"The... the enemy- the Black Tide, they... they were..." He trailed off, the words slipping from him. Why was this so hard?

His eyes flicked back to you, who was now approaching him with concern on your face. Titans above help this poor man. He focused, desperately, on your eyes. As if looking anywhere else might turn him into stone.

"Were they that aggressive?" You asked gently, placing your hands on his face.

Aggressive... Right... that was the word he was looking for.

"...Yes." He managed to say, still trying to collect himself.

"Why haven't you healed yet? Are you okay? Can you walk?" Your questions came all at once; panicked, loving, relentless.

He wasn't listening anymore. Not really. Not with your body barely hidden behind that tempting veil of red silk. If he could just... pull that damn string off.

His thoughts were tangled, his focus slipping again, especially when you got even closer. He cleared his throat, trying to stay composed.

"Uh... yeah." He said firmly, then paused, eyes scanning your form again. "You... dressed up for me?"

You froze in place, suddenly flustered and self-conscious. "Oh, Gods! I'm so sorry! I- I thought you'd be fine like always, and I wanted to surprise you, but you're hurt! I should change and help you-"

You turned, ready to flee from embarrassment, but he caught your wrist before you could escape.

"No. Don't," he said, voice stern but laced with something tender, almost desperate.

"What?" You breathed, heart pounding.

"You went through all that trouble to make yourself look this beautiful," he said, stepping closer, limp and all. "I'm not about to let that go to waste." He was already pulling you closer to him, bodies pressed against each other.

"Mydei, this can wait-"

He was already leaning in.

"You have to-"

Your words were swallowed by your own gasp.

Mydei's lips were at your neck, warm and hungry. His hands were now already on your waist, squeezing them, holding you in place. He moved them up and down your sides, making you squirm. The chill of his gauntlets made your skin spark, the metal adding a strange thrill to every touch.

"Please..." He whispered, his voice husky, pleading. His lips trailed lower, from your neck to your collarbone, before teasingly stopping just above your chest.

You looked down into his eyes, half-lidded and full of heat, desperation, need. His fingers were already tugging at the strings of your lingerie. Perhaps they were also tugging at your heartstrings.

Well, who were you to say no to the crown prince?

Phainon limped up the stairs to the front door, cursing under his breath. Why, in all of Amphoreus, had he thought the stairs to be a good idea in the first place? Every step felt like a personal attack. He should have them removed! Better yet, throw them into the River of Souls for the pain they brought him now.

...No.

He sighed. He was starting to sound irrational. He was probably just exhausted, his entire body screaming in protest. Still, the thought of you seeing him in this state worried him more than he'd like to admit. His head was bandaged, coat hung limply from one shoulder since his arms were too sore to slide into the sleeves.

With a twist of the key, he unlocked the front door.

"Sweetheart, I'm home!" He called out, wincing as his shoulder twisted while he pulled the door shut behind him. He shuffled toward the counter and leaned on it with one hand, trying to take off his boots without his body screaming at him.

He heard your footsteps approaching, light and quick. Still crouched over, fumbling with the straps of his boots, he heard you gasp. He sighed, preparing a reassuring smile.

Until he looked up and saw you.

His breath caught.

"You're all bruised and bandaged! What happened to you?"

You stood there, eyes wide with concern, but that wasn't the main focus.

You were wearing baby blue lingerie, so delicate and ethereal you almost didn't look real. The fabric was thin and light, translucent enough for a clear view of the matching bra and panties. The sheer dress floated just above your thighs, the hem trimmed with soft frills that made it look like you were wrapped in clouds. The neckline sat off your shoulders, ruffled sleeves hugged your arms in a way that gave an innocent look. Though it was anything but innocent.

And those garters.

Dear Kephale, those garters. Those soft, tantalizing bands around your thighs made his thoughts spiral into dangerous places.

"Phainon?" You called out to him again, pulling him out of his daze. He stumbled, barely catching himself.

"Y-yes, Sweetheart?" He replied, voice slightly strained as he straightened up despite the protest of his wounds.

"Are you okay?" you asked, voice filled with genuine worry as you placed a gentle hand on his arm.

Gods, your touch felt like fire on his skin.

He suddenly felt guilty. You were so concerned, and all he could do was stare at you like a man starved.

"I'm... okay. Minor injuries," he muttered, eyes flickering from yours to your chest and back again.

"Even your head's wrapped in bandages..." You said softly, placing a hand on his cheek. "Did you get hit that hard?"

Phainon could think of something else that was hard-

He cleared his throat quickly. "A little, yeah." He leaned into your touch, unable to contain himself.

"You look beautiful," he added with a teasing grin, hovering his hands just beside your waist.

You pulled back with a gasp, glancing down. "Oh, Titans- I forgot I was still wearing this," you laughed nervously. "I'll go change-"

But before you could move, Phainon (even in his weakened state) caught your wrist and pulled you gently but firmly back to him. You stumbled slightly, only to find yourself trapped between him and the counter, your back pressed to his chest, your hands bracing on the surface in front of you.

His arms wrapped around your waist, and his lips brushed past your exposed shoulder. He trailed kisses to your neck, and a soft gasp escaped your lips when he found that one spot that always made you weak.

"P-Phainon, you're hurt-" you tried to speak, but another gasp cut you off as his gloved hand slipped beneath your dress, gliding over bare skin.

"Yes," he whispered against your jaw, "but my sweetheart dressed up so beautifully for me." His right hand then rose to gently tilt your chin, guiding your gaze to meet his. "Who am I to refuse a blessing from a goddess, hm?"

You whine softly, "Your injuries, Phainon..."

You tried to push him away, but he didn't budge.

"Please?" He murmured, desperate in his voice, lips hovering just above yours. "I'll be good. I promise."

His eyes burned with heat, pupils blown and hungry.

This man was absolutely not good for your heart.

©salmonmakiii, do not steal my work or feed it to AI.

[zph]

EXPLORING THE 5 SENSES WITH SCARAMOUCHE. gn!reader | fluff

synopsis. a glimpse into your relationship with scaramouche through the 5 senses (touch, smell, hearing, taste, sight). series of ficlets.

content. suggestive in some parts (i.e. vague descriptions of making out) but mostly sfw, incredible amount of fluff, non-sexual intimacy, sillies in love, kissing, established relationship + pre-relationship for the last section (i.e. taste), scara is painting your bare back, nahida & scara have a family dynamic, brief mention of eimiko and scara son hc, modern au. not proofread.

a/n. happy (very belated) valentines’ day! wanted to explore scara in the late stages of a relationship + pre-relationship; more playfulness & more comfortable with himself. each section isn’t the same length but that's okay. enjoy :)

word count. 4.3k

masterlist

What does SCARAMOUCHE loving you look like in each of the 5 senses?

He can count a few specific times:

—

i. Sight. | PICTURES

Scaramouche has been acting strangely this entire week.

After being recruited (forced) into a photography club by a few of his classmates and the new club member, Nahida (under the name of “discovering more enrichment activities!”), His behavior had since shown an almost subtle but unexpected shift in attitude:

Click!

Case in point: You look towards your boyfriend with a camera in hand, and a small smile etched on his face. It was meant to be a shopping date, just an excuse to wander outside and practically drag your boyfriend around to window shop for overly expensive items—some unreasonable, some even Scaramouche couldn’t help but tug your hand away to distance yourself from getting it. (“Why is that plushie $60?” “It is vintage.” “No, it is just hideous,” he scoffed.)

He was awfully distracted, it seemed, of you and whatever sights you came across. Sure, he was acting like his usual- ‘pretends to have no interest in it but secretly lets you drag him around because he likes being around you’-Scaramouche way, but his mind looked like it drifted elsewhere, like he was there but a softer version took its place and persisted even as he tried to lull it away.

For instance, at one point, you smiled at him, holding up some ugly plush you found in the clearance aisle (“it’s you,” you had told him. “ha, in your dreams.”) and there it is. Scaramouche hadn’t needed to say anything. But you could tell. The moment his mind wandered off again, you simply let it.

Click! And he was back once more.

Conclusion? This camera was the main culprit to his new-found shift in demeanor.

So curiously, you wrap your arms around his waist, looking over his shoulder in an attempt to uncover what he has been hiding away. You blow into his ear, low and enough to get him to freeze. “So, what’s gotten your attention hm?”

Before your eyes could begin to make out the photo, he immediately tucked away the camera and right out of your view. “Posting on my story,” he gave you a look. The kind of look that told you tells of trouble only he could possibly think of. “What about it?”

You raise your eyebrow. Okay, now that was suspicious. “You hardly post on your account.”

“What? What is so wrong with that?” he gave you his best innocent stare, a head tilt, and a sweet smile along with it. “Here I thought you wanted me to post more.”

“Well, yeah you should post more,” you mutter, thinking back to times where people accused you on tagging a side account because your boyfriend’s feed looks like a damn bot than a person. “But! I’m just saying that you are acting really funny, you know,” you point to him; his face only widens in mischief.

“That’s too bad, I think I’m hilarious.”

“Right. Sure.” You chuckle before directing your focus on finding warmth in the fabric of his sweater. Comfy. “Whatever it is. At least take good pictures, yeah? Heard the photography club might set up a display somewhere in the city.”

“Who told you that?”

“Nahida,” you pinch his waist playfully at his bluff, already half-way melted into his shoulder. It is warm, you think. You mumble into his shoulder, “What was the theme about anyway?”

You don’t take notice of the cheeky look in his eye as he stares at your relaxed form or the way his hand reaches for the camera once more, flicking up and facing towards your face.

You hear a snicker.

Click!

You snap your head up. Huh? But before you could ask, you feel his body freeing away from your arms, his warmth along with it. Instinctively, you reach out towards him. “What are you..?“

Unfortunately, Scaramouche was already taking off, putting some distance between you as he ran along with the camera in hand, sticking out his tongue as he did so.

You shook your head in disbelief. “Hey, wait!”

And off he went, his back practically fading further away. You stood, a bit stunned, before laughing. He can be so cute sometimes.

And with a chuckle, you chased after him.

—

[Nahida🍀]

Nahida🍀: Picture-taking is more fun than I expected! Did you take any photos yet? (*^ω^*)

Scara👾: I did. But my model is being uncooperative right now

Nahida🍀: What does that even mean?? Could I see?

Scara👾: Do you really want to know?

Nahida🍀: Why are you acting so suspicious (*_*)

Scara👾: :p.

—

When Scaramouche feels around the wooden shelf, his outstretched arm searching around, he finds himself wiping off the dust of a particular box.

He reaches out to uncover the top, already filled with photographs—each a selection of nature, the exhibitions he has been on, Nahida and her unbridled curiosity for everything, and finally, ones of you.

If he was being frank, he didn’t hold much interest in photography—well, until now. Not until Nahida brought up how “it would do him good to save memories that he wanted to memorialize for his viewing pleasure!” Not until a camera was halfway shoved into his hands with the errand of: “Make sure to take as many pictures as you can! We are counting on you!” (Nahida’s words, not his).

He stared down at the camera. Memories, huh?

Sure, Scaramouche was no stranger to painful grievances of the past, ones where he had learned to confront, ones where he bore and accepted. And if he had to guess, these photos were essentially Nahida’s way of suggesting that he seek out and capture new memories to remember by. Not to overlook what has already been done, but to celebrate a future anew.

Hah, or maybe to do her bidding, he isn’t quite sure yet.

And the worst part? Truthfully, he didn’t hate the idea entirely; in fact, he was sure Nahida knew that clearly, especially with the way she so persistently tasked him with it in the first place.

So, he sighed, but nevertheless, obliged.

And soon enough, he started to toy with the camera and became accustomed to its settings.

Maybe he would take some on his morning walks, of the sunrise he is usually accompanied by, or of the birds that somehow make their home on his shoulder. Or if he was feeling more like a prick, maybe he would take an unexpected photo of his coworkers mid-action, clearly unprepared for the camera. The kind where they are halfway blinking, blurry, and their face contorted unsightly—you know, for his amusement, for his viewing pleasure. Definitely not because they decided once again to make him deal with a customer handing $100 for an $8 item right after he clocked in.

And yet, none of them prepared him for the first time he got a picture with you.

Click!

“Hold sit, why don’t you?”

It began with one photo, something mundane and candid. You were visiting his family home for the holidays; his mother had always pestered him to bring you over each year, and this time around, he agreed.

(“Can’t wait to see you and your partner! Btw, don’t be alarmed when Yae steals them for a few minutes☺️….”

“Are you threatening me?”)

You were lying down with your phone in hand—in his childhood bed, no less—laughing about some show you recently got hooked onto. Sprawled over and relaxing like you owned the place (and maybe you did), you looked like the peace he hadn’t realize he was greedy for. Sure, there wasn’t anything spectacular about his photography skills or the pose you were seated in, and yet, the more he stared at the picture, he couldn’t bring himself to part with it. Not yet, at least.

“So, do I look good?” Your head was tilted up, way too relaxed, way too domestic. For fucks sake, the fact that you were in his bed didn’t help either.

He couldn’t help but look away.

Warmth. It was the odd sense of warmth in his chest that made him hesitate. It was new. It was a welcome feeling. It was—Huh. He never thought photography could be so… frustratingly domestic.

“Can I see?”

“Absolutely not,” he held the photograph tightly.

So soon, more and more popped into this box. He had grown attached to it, more than he would like to admit.

You stretched over your desk, head pressed down on your laptop? Click. (You looked silly, sue him.)

Your face squished with his side-by-side? Click. (You told him it was a trend on TikTok and dragged him into it. It took a lot of convincing—in the form of kisses.)

You sitting right on the pavement at the side of the 7-11 store, munching on your late-night snacks because you told him you were craving food and slushies at 3:00 in the morning? Click.

(Bonus, he also got to take another picture where both of your tongues were purple. Ha, don’t ask how that happened.)

Surely, who could blame him for using this camera to its full potential? When this box is already filled with images, who could blame him when he is already running out of film the next day? Not Nahida, of course. In fact, she was his biggest supporter.

Digging out another picture from his pocket, he flips over the newest addition: You embracing his waist, head on his shoulder, looking as relaxed as you have ever been.

That stupid warmth erupts in his chest once more. It was the type of warmth that didn’t burn, the one where it didn’t spark painful memories; instead, it was sweet. It was persistent. And he also finds he doesn’t hate it.

And maybe this time, he wants to keep it a moment longer. He sets it as his wallpaper, just hidden away from public view, but not from his eyes.

At least there is something to look forward to whenever he is awake at god, who knows what time, missing your warmth.

—

private account @/zushi2938849484 posted!

[attach photo]

@/zushi2938849484: Caught this one. I’ll be honest, it is kind of cute when they try to be clingy. Just don’t tell them that, though.

@/nahidasgarden: So this is what you have been doing! 💖

@/nahidasgarden: Also, why am I the only follower here? ^_^;;;;

Reply from @/zushi2938849484: Because you are oomf

—

i. Smell. | COOKING.

Saturday. 8:34 am.

“You are so clingy today,” Scaramouche grumbles as he leans back into your arms. The comfort of his pjs cushions your weight as your head buries into his shoulder, almost melting into it. The sizzling of the pot lulls down a bit as you feel him reach to turn down the stove.

“Can you blame me?” With your nose pressed so close against the exposed skin, you can make out how he smelled of fresh laundry; the kind where it wasn’t too overbearing, something familiar. You missed this, you think.

No, you corrected: you missed him.

And you could tell, he missed you too. Especially because you could smell the barest hint of your body spray on his clothes. A sign of comfort for him (one that he doesn’t say out loud), but also a pride for you.

“…You smell different.” You begin, the edges of your lips rising.

“Are you saying I smell bad?”

“Well-“ You give him a look.

He quickly huffs, almost scooting out of your arms as he takes the majority of the warmth with him. “If you can’t handle it, I should just enjoy this dinner all by myself-“

“Wait—No, I’m kidding. It smells good.” You chuckle, tucking him closer and pressing one quick kiss on his jaw in apology. You could almost feel the subtle fond eye-roll he gives you. “Aaand of course, you smell nice. It is just…” You bury your face once more. “It smells suspiciously similar to mine.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” He retorts, rather nonchalantly, despite how much of his body language—advertising his gaze away from yours in the act, the slightest lift of eyebrow in smug satisfaction—says otherwise.

So what if he did? What will you even do about it? It tells you.

Nothing, you smiled. Nothing at all.

The sizzle of the pot protests in response to your banter, drawing his attention from you and back to the dinner you were supposed to have later tonight.

While the dinner itself was nothing too fancy or pungent, it was Scaramouche’s go-to comfort food. Scaramouche had an eye for things that were easy to make and felt like home. Sentimentality and all, you found it rather endearing.

You watch as he shifts, stirring the pot.

The aroma was inviting, much like the way you nearly ease yourself into his shoulder, surrounded by the comfort of food and his warmth. The latter nulls you to a near-perfect ease, mixed with the breath he huffs out at your clinginess.

Again, can he blame you?

“So, what are you making?”

A simple question.

One that you already knew the answer to. But you seldom mention it, not while you were already busy pressing your lips against his nape as you waited for his answer.

You hear a hitch.

“What are you..?” Then a breath of laughter. He shifts, carefully placing down the lid. “Why don’t you guess hm?” He doesn’t move anywhere, but you can practically feel the snarkiness radiating off of him. “You have three tries. Extra points if you manage to get the name right.”

You hummed. Good, he was indulging you.

Your kisses got bolder as you shifted from along his nape, then slowly to the exposed part of his shoulder, as courtesy of his loose clothing practically hanging off of him. Your first guess: “Ice cream?”

“Are you acting dumb on purpose?” He scoffed, the sound a little too restrained. Maybe he would make some excuse about how your heat was pressing against him despite how hot the kitchen was. Overheating via body heat was a real concern. But you knew better—knew him better. “2 more tries.” He whispers.

Chuckling a simple “Sure,” you press on.

On the second try, your hand gently encloses around his, spoon still in his hand.

Watching his eyes flit down to your interwoven fingers wrapped in his, you can’t help but laugh at how his curiosity spreads across his expression. What are you doing? His gaze spoke.

He didn’t have to wonder for too long, however.

Not when you suddenly lifted his hand, bringing the spoon to his lower lip.

His eyes haven’t shifted from yours, not one bit, even while his lips slowly parted to make room for the spoon. Delight sparks your stomach as you watch his mouth seal around it, willingly and almost challengingly.

You stilled. This was a beautiful sight.

The morning looked right on him, bathed in the warm golden light. Sun-kissed practically. It highlighted many of his features: the curve of his nose scrunching just enough, the red eyeliner he dutifully wears, and the softness, tense softness that was his gaze. He wasn’t too fazed by your admiration; in fact, he was practically glowing in your attention.

“So, not sweet.” You grinned, pointing out the fact that his face would have scrunched in disgust had the food been anything too sweet. “Ramen?” You breathed in.

You are further reminded of the body spray that surrounds his body; it is practically coming off his wrist.

As if it were instinctive, your lips found their way to his hands, down to his wrist, confirming your suspicions: he sprayed this a few times. It was stronger here. A testimony to how much he wanted to be reminded of you.

“Hah, one last try.” This time, he shook his head. Chilled fingers reached your face as he slowly brought it up to his. Impatience in his movements. “Do you want a hint or something?”

The way both of your breaths now mingling in with each other spoke of many things, despite no words being out from your lips. It was sort of like a genie’s wish. You wouldn’t dare to waste this last and final moment.

And so, you wished. You wished with how your hands eagerly pull him closer, wished with how he smells like home, the scent urging you to say something.

“Yes.” Just as quickly as you spoke, you felt his lips pressed against yours.

Everything was enveloping around you; everything that makes up him was engulfing your senses. The shampoo that he insists on using (if you had to pinpoint it, it smells like nature? You weren’t too sure), the fresh scent of laundry (It reminded you that you were living with him. Successfully and contently emerged with his life, tasks like laundry included), and finally….

Finally, the smell of tea—his favorite. It was a classic move from him: to share something of himself with you. You remember how he offered it once when you were sick, muttering out about a kid he once babysat was in a similar condition and found a liking to this recipe. It drew a familiar warmth in your chest; the heat of the tea mixed in with his laughter.

You twisted your head up at him, pulling away and wiping the remaining bits of tea off your lips. You smile. “Shimi Chazuke.”

—

…

He exhaled, prying you off with a pointed look. “Could you…”

You immediately nod, like the love-sick fool you are.

He offered you a gesture to the tea, then leaned in as if he was going in for another kiss. Instead, he snickers as you open your eyes: “…do the dishes?”

You laugh.

Well, how could you say no?

—

i Hearing. | PHONE CALLS

Ding!

Ding!

Ding-

[1:34 AM] You rub your eyes as you sneak a quick look at your phone. Who the hell is calling at this hour?

‘Kuni🤍’ bold on the screen brightens up your face.

Kuni🤍: Call me

Maybe you will make an exception for him.

You: Did something happen

Like clockwork and the sanity of a deep, lovesick partner, your finger immediately hit the call.

“Hello?”

You hear breathing from the other side, then a low rasp, wry in his tone. “Good morning Sleepy head.”

“Scara, it is 1 in the morning. Something up?” And you knew something was bothering him if he was awake at this hour.

There was a pause before shuffling emerged from your speaker: he was adjusting his chair.

“Finishing this thesis. Wanted someone to bother.”

His voice had an unmistakable thickness, evident in the exhaustion that had struck his body and made its way to his throat.

“Wanna talk about it?”

He sighs, the noise so soft that you had to crane your phone closer just to hear. You expected his typical lectures—ones ranging from the gossip of his coworkers’ drama, peer reviews of essays that he describes as ‘nonsensical’, and random history lessons—he sometimes liked to teach you quite a few of them too.

In fact, you became privy to many aspects of his life; a privilege from being in a relationship with him, you suppose. It surprised you how much he liked to talk, despite being no fan of chatty people or mindless conversations. It was endearing, to say the least.

So, it surprised you even more when none of that reached your ears. Instead, he mutters simply, not his usual snark:

“I didn’t see you today.” I missed you.

…

You had to do a double-take just to check if you heard that correctly. Yet there was no other comment besides the slight hitch in his voice, followed by the sound of computer keys clicking and more scuffling from the other side of the line.

“I missed you, too.” You finally admit, chuckling as if you were in on a secret between you two. “Sorry, I was kept busy the entire day. You alright?”

He doesn’t give you much of anything. Instead, you just hear more shuffling. “You weren’t there to bother me. No morning texts….” Then he scoffs, more to himself. “What am I saying? Whatever, I….tried finding you in your usual spot. That corner of the cafe you apparently like so much. Did you suddenly disappear or something?” He finally laughs, after a pause, trying to keep his voice light. “….Just tell me about your day. Anything. What kept your attention so long?”

You blinked, but you complied with his demand. After all, your boyfriend wasn’t one to admit it so openly, especially not at break of dawn either. That must’ve nagged at him all day, huh? Cute, you thought, if hearing your voice again would ease his irritation, how could you say no?

It was easy to fall into listing your schedule—anything about the errands you had today, your classes, mornings—anything you could list off the top of your head.

(“Ah, so that’s why they told me someone had already ordered some food under my name. It was you huh?”

“You said you didn’t have time to pick up breakfast,” he says it like it is the easiest thing in the world. “…What? Don’t coo at me like that.”)

He responds to a few little laughs and scoffs here and there towards some of your commentary, but seldom cuts in, satisfied simply with listening. Slowly, the side comments die into mumbles, an effort to respond but not quite lucid enough to be comprehensible.

“You know, you should go to sleep.”

He mumbles. “No.” It was longer than usual, like his mind tried to catch up and convince itself it wasn’t tired.

But then you hear it. A soft puff erupts into the microphone.

“Scaramouche?” You wait a few more seconds to confirm your suspicions. Another puff.

He was sleeping.

“You really are adorable, you know.” You whisper. You couldn’t help the smile that spread on your lips. Did he really call you because he couldn’t sleep? You knew he liked his alone time, but it was nice to know at least he wanted you to accompany him in some sort of way. “Goodnight, Scara.”

—

The following day, another ding emerged from your phone; another notification from Scara:

Kuni🤍: Thank you

[Kuni🤍sent a photo]

You: Good morning, beautiful!

You: Dude, how did you even take a picture of me sleeping on call

Kuni🤍: :p

—

i. Touch. | SKIN TO SKIN

“Pftt, relax.”

“I’m trying to.“ The brush presses against your back, the soft edges leaving a cool chill over your skin. “But your brush-“ you shiver as he puts another coat of body paint. “-is cold.”

With the brush strokes along your spine, you feel his breath fanning along with the hum of his voice.

“A little cold can’t hurt, right? Don’t tell me that bothers you?” He knows exactly what he is doing, especially with the way his legs are slotted around your waist, laughing as if he doesn’t realize how much of an effect he has. “I’m almost done, hold on.”

You lay still, your arms folded under you as you steadied your breathing. “Once I do this to you, then you’ll see how damn cold it is,” it comes out more breathless than a sly retort. You hear the echoes of a poorly hidden snicker, his finger playfully tapping your shoulder.

“Sure. Maybe I should make this as slow as possible, just for you.” The smile in his voice becomes more evident as he mercilessly presses more of the brush.

“How incredibly nice, Scara.” You huff.

Now, the bristles run downwards—more deliberately this time, clearly relishing in the trust you hold for him and also teasing you in the process as you remain pliant under his touch.

“Didn’t you ask for this? I thought you would be more enthusiastic about me being up here.”

Clearly, you had meant to be more enthusiastic about this. You’ve seen it online on a forum somewhere: Intimacy in the form of body painting, along with someone whom you trust the most. It was a brilliant idea, you decided.

You remember bringing it up to him late at night, arms sprawled across his waist and his head resting on your shoulder. You shifted a little and inched your phone towards him.

He was cute, his eyes squinting at the screen, furrowing his brows as he tried to make out the picture. “Couple body painting?” he mutters, then, with the simple turn of his head, more interested in getting his sleep, he yawns out. “Do what you want.”

It didn’t take that long to convince him, you suppose. With a chuckle, you tucked him closer with a blanket, the latter of which takes it with a simple nudge in your direction. Cheers bloomed in your mind: First step of the mission! You got his approval! Or well, sort of.

The next day, you both went out for a store run.

See, store runs with him were a daily occurrence. Scaramouche was your perfect partner for groceries. In every run, he always kept a list, something with beautiful calligraphy inscribed in his notes on the margins, that told you how much you might need for the week: detergent, water, along with the indulgent snacks you both enjoyed.

With supplies stocked up in the cart and his attention fixed on the list he made, you made a quick detour to the art supply section.

You gripped a tube of neon, glow-in-the-dark body paint, mischievousness no doubt rolled off of you in waves. The thought that you were able to not only admire him but create art on his skin was pleasant.

So, when you finally got back to the cart, you were met with an eyebrow raise and a shake of his head.

“Where did you go?”

“To get these.”

He didn’t seem as invested in the idea as you were, more focused on finishing this shopping trip and finally relaxing at home.

But it didn’t take long before he was.

—

“You are having way too much fun with this, you know?”

In truth, you may have overestimated Scaramouche’s potential for teasing. Once he realizes how much power he has over you, it becomes clear: he was the one to take it and run with it tenfold.

“Of course, I am.” Quick to respond, he leans in more closely, the tickling of his nose against your skin.

The rest of the room was dimmed, and the lack of seeing what he was doing was catching up to you, more aware of what you felt instead. Once the sense of sight is gone, the rest of your senses are heightened dramatically. Every twitch he makes, every laugh that escapes him, you are anticipating his next move and trying to figure out what the hell he is thinking.

And unfortunately, with the quick hitch of his breath sending down shivers through your spine, the rest of your body jolts along with it. He snickers in response, his breath ever so present on your skin.

Fuck.

Then, just when you least expect it. You feel a touch of warmth pressing against your back—

His lips.

You feel how he trails down, chilled fingers pressing against your back while his lips warm up and swallow each laugh that vibrates along your body.

It was no doubt cheeky, and it was agonizingly long.

And you were indulging in every single bit of it.

“Now, stay still.” His lips curled up against your shoulder, letting go with a quick pop.

You huff lightly. “Of course, of course, your Highness.”

You will get him back for this. But for now, you were humming along as he took his fill of all your reactions, lingering and kneading; a canvas in his hands and art marking his affections.

Yeah, you will definitely get him back.

—

i. Taste. | VALENTINE’S DAY CHOCOLATE.

You think you have found your favorite taste.

Unhurriedly, you cradle the heart-shaped packaging to your lips, popping it into your mouth as you let the contents melt away. Chocolate spreads on your tongue, and the bitterness fills your taste buds.

You almost want to gasp at the shock, if it wasn’t for the way Scaramouche’s hand locks with yours, savoring your warmth just as you try to savor the treat. It was new, but it was not unwelcome.

You tug at his hand. It feels soft somehow, well taken care of. His slender fingers easily intertwine around yours, tightening slightly as you move along, almost guiding you closer.

And what was worse? It feels almost needy the way he inches impossibly closer. You feel his arms wrapping around your neck, tracing along your skin as if he were afraid you would let go.

You try to grip your senses, trying to remember what had happened before this.

—

The memory of your best friend sitting beside you, engulfed with bags hanging off his arms, notes littered around, chocolate-covered treats, and small plushies of all species, packed loosely with bows—All were forwarded lovingly to him from his peers.

You remember laughing at him, stealing one of his chocolate bars from the bags, and chewing along the sides.

“Too bad you don’t like sweets, these are really good,” you mumbled.

And you swore his eyes followed the movement. Pausing for a quick fleeting moment before a flash of mischief struck his face.

The last bits of his rant had already dissolved at the tip of his tongue. The absurd amount of confession letters, gifts of flowers at his workplace, and more importantly, the handbags given by classmates on his campus, now situated on your arms, turned from points of irritation to something else entirely.

“Come here.” He leaned in.

You remember him sticking his tongue out, the last of his irritation melting away. Then, as the sheets shriveled, he proceeded to quickly steal the bag of chocolate from your fingers.

“—Hey, wait!”

You recall laughing, you recall him laughing. Echoes of giggles are reflected in the way you chase after him, tugging at his shirt to snatch it rightfully back until you both are a heaping mess on the floor, legs tangled and breaths so close.

You remember having a good look at his appearance. The smudge of his eyeliner—the crimson that is usually lining his eyes now smeared just a bit and a similar red brightening his cheeks as he laughed—something only you were akin to—tugging at his lips.

At that moment, you couldn’t help but think that he was beautiful. Unfathomably so.

And a part of you wondered, dangerously: What would it be like to smudge the red on his lips?

You remember the slow, heavy breaths you took, hands pinned right against his head, and the slow realization that you might want just to kiss your long-time friend. You weren’t meant to be this close. Especially not in an uncompromising position like this.

Peering down at him, your brain dizzying as you met his eyes, staring up at you: the last fit of his laughter dying down as he also came to the same conclusion.

A snort escaped him.

“Hey,” you breathed.

And you couldn’t help but trace the way his lips looked. Red looked good on him; happiness, even if cheeky, looked good on him.

“What are you going to do now?” he whispers. There was a hint of uncertainty mixed with his usual sarcasm.

You remember stalling, weighing down the options to pass it off as a joke, something to keep as a memory as you mourn what could have been.

Or take your chances. The fact that he wasn’t pushing you off spoke more than you could imagine. Maybe, for a brief moment, he was anticipating the same, watching your move just as you have been doing to him.

You breathed out, hoping to give him a way out should you have read him wrong. “Look, if you are uncomfortable, you can just push me off-“

Red was the look that flashed when he looked away, clearly frustrated that you aren’t reading his mind or body language, cutting you off with a swift, “I never said that.”

“So…” You couldn’t help but lean closer, your resolve waning once his eyes captured yours, the same electricity igniting in his gaze, challenging you.

“What does it look like I want?” His gaze was pulling you down with him as his voice dropped to a whisper, vulnerable. Like the obvious choice is right in front of you, and yet, he waits, becoming more and more impatient with your hesitation.

You feel like melting.

The touches started slow, a blend of teasing that you were used to and other charted untouched territory as his hands lifted to meet your cheek, a new gentleness in his grip like a question waiting to be answered.

You nudge, closing the gap, answering tentatively.

The cards were long forgotten, the gifts were the least of your concerns—and yet, words were not enough to describe the feeling of your heart pounding against your chest.

Melting.

He tasted like familiarity: The shared mix of dark chocolate.

Though he claims to hate the sensation of sticky treats, the overt sweetness was too much on his gums; each time you pulled away, he chased after your lips once again. Like a rush forced upon him, now an addict chasing his fix. And he glares when you halt his pursuit, tugging him back to finally look at his appearance.

Bitterness was the taste he was familiar with.

But with the way his hair ruffled a mess, lips swollen, shirt disheveled, and eyes practically dripping with intensity, you couldn’t help but think that it left a sweet aftertaste after all. Nothing overbearing but enough to be memorable.

“…You taste like chocolate.” He breathed out.

Your chest swelled. He doesn’t seem to mind the flavor. Your finger nudged another chocolate against his lips, slowly returning to the warm press of his kiss as if starved once again. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Scaramouche.”

You found your favorite taste, and you would be a fool not to savor it. 

[chaoticforever]

Thunderous Pursuits | Yandere Thor x Male! Reader

Summary: Let this be a lesson to Thor’s old friend. Love is a fragile thing, easily broken by jealous gods. Especially Thor.

A/n: Smut is present.

Another day of saving the world.

Thor plopped himself down in the booth as his teammates began to settle down beside him. The restaurant the Avengers went to for the evening was a lavish and elegant establishment in New York, with high ceilings, gold chandeliers, and soft, ambient lighting. The walls were painted a deep shade of red, and the booth was comfortable and spacious, with a single red rose adorning the center of the table.

Earlier that afternoon, the Avengers had saved Earth again from yet another alien invasion. To celebrate this victory, Tony decided to take his teammates to a five-star restaurant in the city since some of them hadn't been to one before. He had arranged a private booth in a secluded corner of the restaurant for them to eat.

The God of Thunder opened the menu and gazed through the different choices. Thor didn’t eat earthly food as much, but he was going to enjoy them this evening.

Soon, a waiter approached their booth. 

"Hello, my name is Y/n, and I will be your server tonight," a polite voice addressed. "Can I get y'all started on some drinks?" 

Thor paused when he heard the waiter introduce himself. That voice... he would know that anywhere. Slowly, he lifted his eyes from the menu, and his eyes locked with the person standing near the table.

And, sure enough, it was him.

Y/n L/n.

"Y/n!" Thor's lips curled into a big smile.

The waiter looked up from the pad in his hands when he heard his name called. A fond grin appeared on his face when he saw the individual who called out to him.

"Hi, Thor!" Y/n walked around the table and the God stood up to give him a brief hug before stepping back. "It's so great to see you again. It's been too long, and wow, you cut your hair! It looks amazing."

"Thank you, old friend," Thor boomed, as he took his seat again, his piercing blue eyes never leaving his old friend's form. "It has been so long. I never expected to find you here, a restaurant, of all places."

The other Avengers quietly observed the exchange. They were intrigued by Thor's familiarity with someone the team didn't recognize. After all, they knew of Thor's brief friendships with Darcy and his ex-girlfriend, Jane, but this one was a new face. As they watched the guys interact, it became clear that Thor and his friend had a history that went back a long way.

Steve spoke, "So, Y/n, how do you know Thor? It looks like you two go way back."

The waiter nodded. "We do go way back. Way back. I was once an Asgardian god."

The five Avengers exchanged surprised glances. Clearly, they had not expected such a revelation. But Thor, on the other hand, frowned at Y/n's choice of words.

"Y/n, what do you mean, you 'were once' an Asgardian God?" His tone was sharp with curiosity, and his eyes searched for answers in Y/n's e/c eyes. Why did Y/n voice that? Was he not a God anymore? 

The former Asgardian cleared his throat, a subtle signal that the topic wasn't one he wished to delve into at this moment. "That is a story for another day. But for now, what can I get you heroes to drink?"

Tony was the first one to speak up and he ordered a martini, shaken, not stirred. Steve opted for a Coca-Cola, while Clint chose a cocktail. Natasha requested a glass of Cabernet Sauvignon, and Bruce kept it simple, ordering a glass of water. However, Thor remained silent, his gaze fixed on Y/n. His mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts known only to the man.

"Uh, Point Break, it’s your turn," Tony said.

Thor blinked twice, momentarily startled before clearing his throat and tearing his gaze away from Y/n. "Aye, my apologies. I will have... uh, what is that earthly drink you mortals enjoy so much?" He looked to Tony for guidance, who rolled his eyes.

"You mean beer?" The billionaire supplied.

Thor nodded, turning his gaze back to Y/n. "Yes, I will have a human beer, please."

Y/n nodded and jotted down the orders with swift movements of his pencil. He turned to leave but paused, and asked if they were ready to order food or if they needed more time with the menu. As it turned out, everyone was ready to order.

The male server took their food orders, starting with Tony again, who ordered a steak with sides of mac and cheese and broccoli cheese casserole. Steve opted for a classic bacon cheeseburger and fries, while Clint chose a plate of pasta with garlic bread. Natasha ordered sushi with a side of chicken, and Bruce opted for a massive plate of ribs and mashed potatoes. Thor mirrored Bruce’s choice.

After writing down their food orders, Y/n left, heading to the kitchen and leaving the heroes to their conversation. Thor's eyes followed Y/n's retreating figure, his mind racing with numerous questions.

As the Avengers talked, Thor found it hard to focus. His mind kept wandering back to Y/n, his old friend who was now a waiter. He couldn't shake his curiosity about what happened to Y/n since they last saw each other and the implication that the man had given up his godhood.

"Thor," Natasha's voice cut through the haze of his thoughts. "It seems like you and Y/n have quite the history. Care to fill us in?" Her tone was inviting, leaving the decision to share entirely up to Thor.

"I've known Y/n since the dawn of time. He came to Asgard as a young adult and we were very close. We fought in battles and went on countless journeys. Though it seems I missed this part of his journey."

Clint, who was sitting across from Thor, arched a brow and gave him a knowing look. "Dude," Clint wiggled his eyebrows. "you have a crush on him, don't you?" It seems that nothing escaped Clint's gaze.

Natasha playfully nudged Clint, as Bruce shook his head. He muttered something about Clint being an idiot though a small chuckle did manage to escape his throat.

A slight pink hue tinted Thor's cheeks. "I certainly do not have a crush on him."

And that was true — Thor did not have a crush on Y/n. On the contrary, what he felt for his old friend ran deeper than a fleeting crush, even after all these years.

A little while later, Y/n returned with two more servers that had trays filled with food and drinks. They carefully placed everything on the table, ensuring that everyone received their ordered meals. "Guys, enjoy your meal, and feel free to flag me down if you need anything else," Y/n then left the Avengers to their meal.

They ate, and the conversation shifted to their recent battle and the close calls they had faced. Thor, once again, found his attention divided between the lively discussion and his silent observations of Y/n as the waiter efficiently moved between tables, tending to other people.

He needed to speak with him.

So, when the dinner concluded and Tony paid the bill, leaving a generous tip for Y/n's exceptional service, the group began to make their way out toward the waiting limo. However, Thor lingered behind, his eyes seeking out Y/n, who was clearing a table. Thor made his way over to him.

"Y/n," Thor’s voice was low and serious, causing Y/n to pause in his clearing and looked up at Thor, "a word if you please." 

Y/n straightened up and offered a smile. "Of course, Thor. What can I do for you?"

"I must know, old friend, everything that has happened in your life up until now."

Y/n's smile remained unwavering. "And I'll tell you everything you want to know tomorrow. Meet me in Central Park at twelve o'clock. You and I will catch up."

The thunderous God nodded, feeling satisfied with that arrangement as he placed a hand on Y/n's shoulder. "Until tomorrow, my friend. I look forward to it."

As Y/n walked away with dishes in his hands, Thor's eyes trailed after him. Why was his friend working as a server in a human restaurant? What had happened to him in Asgard? And most importantly, why'd he say he 'was once' an Asgardian God? Thor had his suspicions about the last question, but he still needed to get the missing piece of the puzzle from Y/n.

The only plausible explanation for Y/n's situation was that Y/n must have been stripped of his powers and made mortal, much like Odin had done to him before.

But the question remained: why? There were only two ways for a god to lose their powers: either through transferring their consciousness into another mortal body or by having their powers forcibly taken away. Y/n still inhabited the same body for centuries, automatically ruling out the first option. This left Thor with the conclusion that someone must have taken his powers, and he hoped that his dad hadn't been involved in such an act.

Suddenly, the restaurant door opened, and Bruce's voice rang out. "Thor, come on! Tony said you have thirty seconds to get out here or he's telling the limo driver to pull off without you. Let's get moving."

With a playful roll of his eyes at Tony's impatience, Thor followed Bruce out of the restaurant and into the waiting limo.

The limo glided through the city streets on the way back to the Compound, and Thor's thoughts inevitably drifted to Y/n. He recalled the curve of his lips when he smiled, the way the black waiter's attire highlighted his handsome features, and Clint's accusation about having a crush.

Indeed, as Thor had voiced earlier, it was more than a crush. The love he felt for Y/n ran deeper than mere infatuation, and it had only bloomed stronger over time.

One thing's for sure: over the years, Y/n had been the object of Thor's late-night fantasies more times than he cared to admit, even during his semi-relationship with Jane. Y/n was the main reason he couldn't fully commit to her. The thought of having Y/n beneath him, moaning his name while begging for release, was a desire Thor had harbored for some time. 

In Thor's mind, he felt that this was an opportunity given to him. It was clear to Thor that their paths had crossed again for a reason — because they were meant to be together. Why else would they have reconnected now — when Y/n seemingly needed him? It was a sign from the gods. So, he would first speak to Y/n, and then the two could focus on their relationship.

Thor couldn’t wait until tomorrow. 

XXXXX XXXXX

The wait until the next day felt like an eternity for the God of Thunder. He was so ready to see Y/n once more and learn about everything that had transpired in his life recently. He knew that Y/n would be there on time; it was in their nature to honor commitments, no matter how tiny.

Finally, the clock struck twelve, and Thor found himself standing in Central Park. The sun shone brightly, its rays dancing through the leaves of the trees, casting dappled shade on the grass, and a nice breeze stirred in the air. As he ventured further into the park, his eyes spotted a familiar figure sitting at a bench beneath the sprawling branches of a big oak tree.

There, casually leaning back against the bench with one leg casually slung over the other, was Y/n. He looked utterly at ease, dressed in a simple white tee and faded jeans. The outfit accentuated his nice, broad shoulders, and Thor's eyes wandered appreciatively over Y/n’s body.

He looked good.

Real good.

Thor's footsteps quickened, his eagerness to reunite properly with his old friend unmistakable. He knows that he just saw him yesterday, but the short amount of time wasn't enough to satisfy his longing for his company. Y/n noticed Thor approaching and gave him a slight smile, the corners of his eyes crinkling.

"Hey, Y/n," Thor greeted, his voice warm and deep. He extended his hand, and Y/n took it, letting Thor pull him into a hug.

"It's good to see you, T-Man," Y/n replied, using the old nickname he had for Thor. Hearing it now made Thor's heart flutter, and he loved the way it rolled off his lips.

Settling onto the bench, Thor's curiosity got the better of him. He knew that Y/n held the answers to the many questions swirling in his mind. So, without further ado, he decided to dive straight into the heart of the matter, forgoing the human tendency to beat around the bush now.

"My dear comrade," Thor began, his eyes locked intensely on Y/n. "You have much to tell me, and I am eager to hear it. How is it that Y/n, son of Hera and Zeus, God of Time, finds himself here on Midgard, serving mortals as a waiter? The last I heard, you were a protector of this realm."

The former God clasped his hands in his lap but he maintained eye contact with Thor. It was always customary to look someone in the eyes when speaking.

"I was the protector of this realm," he confirmed, "But your father and I had our fair share of disagreements. He deemed me reckless and unworthy, and in a fit of anger, he stripped me of my powers and banished me here to Midgard. I've been living as a mortal for almost two years."

A frown marred Thor's handsome features as he listened to Y/n's words, his eyebrows knitting together in anger. Stripped of his powers and exiled here — it was a brutal punishment, one that stirred a protective instinct within the God of Thunder. He knew firsthand the pain of being stripped of one's powers. The idea of Y/n, the mighty God of Time, being reduced to working at a job, was an insult to everything they stood for.

"That old fool!" Thor growled, feeling his anger rising. "To treat you, another God who has served Asgard for thousands of years with such cruelty is an outrage. He cannot keep doing this to people like us," he took Y/n's hand in his, giving it a soft squeeze, and Thor felt a burning desire to set things right. "Rest assured, I'll find a way to have him restore your abilities."

Y/n shook his head. "There's no need for that. I've accepted my fate as a mortal, and in some ways, I enjoy being human."

Thor's eyebrows ascended. "You do?"

Thor's surprise was evident on his face. The tall God remembered all too well the emotions that had consumed him when he was stripped of his powers and sent to Earth — the anger, the bitterness, and the overwhelming sense of tiredness that came with realizing that walking as a mortal was far more challenging than he had anticipated with long distances.

The waiter nodded in confirmation. "I do. There are some drawbacks to being human, like getting tired and injured, and I do miss being able to manipulate time. But being human granted me a freedom I never experienced before," Y/n paused, a faraway look in his eyes as if recalling a fond memory. "And I even found love."

Suddenly, the air in Central Park seemed to grow thick with each passing second. The once-bright sun was now concealed by the gathering of dark storm clouds. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a low, menacing growl that echoed through the trees. Additionally, the breeze picked up, carrying the scent of impending rainfalls.

Lightning crackled around the god's left fingertips, a visual manifestation of his rising emotions. His vision darkened at Y/n's words, and he gently withdrew his right hand from Y/n's grasp. Did Y/n just say what he thinks he just said? He had—

Y/n had found love. The word "love" reverberated through Thor like a strike of lightning, sending an unwelcome jolt of awareness through him. Love implied intimacy, tangled limbs, and passionate kisses. The thought of Y/n sharing such closeness with someone else awakened a surge of possessiveness through him.

Sensing the change in the weather, Y/n glanced up, noticing the dark clouds that had gathered. He looked around, seeing people leaving the park, then he turned his gaze to the man sitting next to him.

"Uh, Thor?"

Hearing his name, Thor snapped out of his turbulent thoughts and took a steady breath, consciously calming himself. As a response, the clouds above dissipated, replaced by the hot sun. The harsh wind softened, and the lightning that crackled from his fingertips faded away without a trace. The weather returned to normal.

"Love?" Thor echoed, his tone carefully neutral; he grappled with the unfamiliar emotion swirling within him. He tamped down the spike of jealousy, not wanting to seem possessive or unfair. They had been apart for years now, living separate lives, so what right did he have to claim Y/n's heart? And yet, the thought of Y/n being intimate with a male or a female stirred a possessive hunger deep within him, a feeling he had never experienced before, not even during his brief period with Jane. "Who is this person that has captured your heart?" He dangerously murmured disguised as casual curiosity.

Y/n smiled softly. "Her name is Maya."

"And how did you come to meet Maya?" Thor asked, his tone carefully controlled, even as that name rolled off his tongue like a sweet poison. But he schooled his features, keeping his emotions in check.

"Well, when I was sent to Earth, I found myself in the middle of an open road at night. Maya accidentally hit me with her car, but she took me into her apartment to rest up and recover. We spent a lot of time together, and eventually, we started dating as they say. She's a great woman."

A jaw clenched; Thor's teeth grinded as he forced himself to remain composed. So, Y/n had found love with this... Maya. "I see," his fingers curled into a fist. "And Is she aware of your past?" Y/n nodded silently in response. "Where is she now?"

The h/c-haired male seemed completely oblivious to the undercurrents of Thor’s jealousy as he spoke. "Maya had a hair appointment today, but she should be here soon, and you'll get to meet her."

Can't wait, Thor thought. He needed to see this Maya, to put a face to the name that now felt like a curse on his tongue. But more than that, he wanted to assert his presence, to let Maya know that Y/n was his first and would always belong to him. Furthermore, he would make sure—

"There you are, Y/n!" 

Instantly, Thor's head whipped around to see a female approaching their bench. This must be Maya. Her dark hair fell in loose waves down to her back, perfectly complementing her complexion and her radiant smile. She wore a comfortable denim jeans jumpsuit that hugged her hips, showcasing her curvaceous figure.

"About time you got here," Y/n stood to greet her with a soft smile, leaning down to brush his lips on her cheek. Her arms wrapped around him, and the affection between the couple was as clear as day.

"Sorry, I had to get my coffee. You know how I get," Maya let out a soft chuckle, her eyes widening as she looked over at the person sitting on the bench with her boyfriend. "Y-You're Thor!" she turned to Y/n again. "You did not tell me your old friend was the Thor from the Avengers!"

Y/n held up his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, you knew I was a god at one point, and that I'd be meeting an old friend. Who's the one, popular god that's currently running around New York City?"

"Still, you could've mentioned it was an Avenger!" Maya exclaimed, turning back to The god, who had been observing the exchange with a neutral expression. She held out her hand for him to shake. "It's so nice to meet you, Thor. I'm a big fan!"

Standing from the bench, Thor's tall and muscular frame towered over Maya, but not Y/n, who stood at a similar height. He shook Maya's hand gently, his gaze flickering briefly to Y/n's. "It's a pleasure to put a face to the name of the woman who has stolen my friend's heart," Thor's voice held an underlying current of quiet possession that the other two didn’t pick up on. "He has told me things about you."

"Oh, has he? Only good things, hopefully."

"I promise, only good things, babe," Y/n assured, his eyes shifting briefly to Thor. "So, Maya and I were just about to go to the carnival. Do you want to tag along?"

The God shook his head. "Thank you for the invitation, but I must decline. I have matters that require my attention back at the Avengers Compound." As much as Thor longed to spend more time with Y/n, he did not want to be a third wheel or see these two being affectionate.

The woman nodded in understanding. "I understand. You have the world to save and all. Perhaps next time if you're free."

"Most definitely," Thor agreed, his eyes following Y/n and Maya as they walked away, with Y/n's left hand in Maya's right.

A frustrated growl rumbled in Thor's throat as he raked a hand through his newly trimmed brown hair. This reunion had not gone as he had envisioned. He had imagined catching up on old times, and perhaps, even confessing his long-held feelings for Y/n. But, unfortunately, Maya's presence had ruined his plans.

The desire to remove this woman from the equation burned within Thor, and he knew there was only one way to do that. However, he understood that any harm brought upon Maya would hurt Y/n, and he didn't want to see his old friend hurt. Therefore, Thor decided to let Maya be.

At least, for now.

XXXXX XXXXX

In all honesty, Thor had been planning to return to the Compound. The thought of witnessing someone else's affection for Y/n was too much to bear. He had turned around, prepared to walk in the opposite direction when he changed his mind.

He turned back, deciding to secretly join Y/n and Maya at the carnival. He needed to see for himself the depth of Maya's love for Y/n when they were together.

The God maintained a discreet distance as he trailed secretly behind Y/n and his unfortunate girlfriend, not wanting them to realize he was following them. A few minutes later, he watched as the couple purchased their admission tickets and walked into the carnival, their hands still entwined. Thor lingered at the entrance, his eyes fixed on their retreating figures.

Thor paused at the entrance of the carnival, his mind formulating a plan. With the money Tony had generously provided, he decided to purchase a cap and sunglasses from the nearby store, employing a tactic he had learned from his time with the Avengers — infiltrating places and staying hidden in plain sight.

After getting his disguise, Thor paid for an admission ticket and stepped inside. 

The carnival was alive with the scent of cotton candy, popcorn, and funnel cake, mingling with both the excited chatter of children and the loud music blaring from speakers. People of all ages were there today, laughing and screaming as they rode roller coasters, tested their luck at games, and snacked on delicious foods.

Hidden behind sunglasses and a black cap, Thor moved with the crowd, his tall frame blending seamlessly into the sea of humans. His sharp eyes scanned the area, searching for the man he desired.

And as Thor navigated the carnival, his frustration mounted with each passing minute. He searched in vain for any sign of the couple, eyes scanning the crowds for Y/n and Maya, but couldn't find them anywhere. Heat started burning in Thor's chest that had nothing to do with the hot weather — but was rather fueled by his rising impatience and possessiveness.

"Damn it, where are they?" He muttered under his breath, irritation in his voice.

Thor quickened his pace.

Dodging between families and groups of teenagers, he walked past the game booths, bumper cars, and food stations.

His determined search finally paid off as he spotted Y/n's distinctive profile at the milk bottle toss game booth, a ball in his hands as he prepared to throw it. Maya stood behind him, holding a sundae cup with two spoons, as she cheered Y/n on.

Adjusting his sunglasses, Thor stepped closer to them. He watched as his friend threw the ball and knocked over a stack of milk bottles with accuracy. That didn’t surprise Thor; Y/n had been a seasoned warrior for thousands of years, after all.

The man behind the booth handed Y/n a stuffed animal—a tan plush dog— which Y/n then gave to Maya. Her smile lit up her face when she received the nice gift.

The couple walked away, sharing the sundae and laughing together. Thor's fists clenched at his sides as he fought the instinct to march over and pull Maya away — to claim what was rightfully his.

Instead, Thor forced himself to maintain a cool and distant demeanor, following his prey. He remained hidden, observing their interactions without them knowing. He kept his distance as the couple rode roller coasters, played more games, and indulged in stupid affectionate gestures. Throughout it all, Thor's anger bubbled, especially when Y/n had the audacity to cup Maya's cheek and kiss her softly.

That did it.

Thor knew he had promised himself that he wouldn't hurt Maya for Y/n's sake, not wanting to see him unhappy. But — after witnessing their interactions throughout the day, something snapped within him, and he didn't care about his promise. He decided that Y/n was meant to be happy with him — and him alone. The thought of anyone else having Y/n's heart was unbearable, and Thor found himself no longer caring about the consequences. He had no choice but to get rid of Maya.

On Friday night, Maya was leaving her workplace alone, while Y/n was at work. The night air was crisp, carrying a hint of a chill, as the streetlights casted orange glows along the pavement. Thor silently followed her. He kept a careful distance, mirroring her movements: walking when she walked, turning the corner when she turned, and stopping when she stopped. He hid when she turned around as if she knew somebody was trailing behind her.

A gust of wind rustled the leaves. Maya shivered from the cool, spring weather and pulled her jacket tighter, quickening her pace considerably. Her eyes glanced but she saw no one there. Unbeknownst to her, the threat loomed closer than ever.

As Maya passed an alleyway, the wind picked up again, and she felt a sense of unease. She stilled, feeling like she was being watched, "H-Hello?" she called out, her voice trembling. "Is someone there?"

Silence answered her, but Maya could've sworn she felt eyes boring into her back. She turned around, but the alleyway was empty. With a sense of unease lingering, she began walking, her steps faster now as she hurried towards the safety of her home, never pausing. Finally, she arrived at her apartment building and sauntered inside, the door closing firmly behind her.

As Maya set her keys down on the table and turned around, she let out a startled gasp at the sight of Thor standing there.

Quickly, Thor locked the top and bottom locks, feeling satisfaction from noticing the fear that flashed through her eyes.

Good, Thor thought, satisfied, be scared.

XXXXX XXXXX

The morning sun's rays filtered through the thin curtains, their warmth caressing Y/n's features, gently waking him up. He stretched languidly, and sat up, yawning. Then, the e/c-eyed man opened his eyes completely and headed to the bathroom.

One of the first things Y/n incorporated into his life as a mortal man was a nice skincare regimen. Maya had explained to him that humans often used facial masks to keep their skin clear and free from acne. In his previous life as a god, Y/n had never had to worry about such concerns, as his skin had always been flawless. Without his powers, however, he now found himself susceptible to the same skin issues that plagued mortals. So, he used these facial skin care masks.

Though Y/n can admit that he quite enjoyed these face masks. The soft texture against his skin was surprisingly wonderful, and the masks worked great.

He feels like his sister, Aphrodite.

After completing his morning routine, he grabbed his phone and made his way to the kitchen. He poured himself a cup of coffee, already prepared, as he dialed Maya's number. The ringing tone echoed aloud and was greeted by her voicemail.

The phone heading straight to voicemail didn't entirely surprise Y/n. He knew that she loved sleeping in after a hectic work week. He decided to pay her a surprise visit since he had been given a spare key.

Y/n opened the door and was prepared to step through it when his feet paused and looked down, suddenly noticing the white envelope on the ground. Frowning in confusion, he bent down to pick it up, his eyes scanning the words inscribed on the envelope: "To Y/n, From Maya."

Intrigued, Y/n opened the envelope, his eyes reading over the paragraph, and the frown on Y/n’s features deepened. Huh—

The note read: My dearest Y/n,

Hope all is going well. I just wanted you to know that you’ll always have a special place in my heart, and our relationship is the best thing that ever happened to me.

It pains me to say this, but, to be honest, I have fallen out of love. Our relationship has run its course, and I think we are no longer meant to be. My love for you has faded like a flower wilting under the sun.

Please know that this was an incredibly difficult decision for me, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.

I wish you nothing but happiness. May you continue to find love and fulfillment in life. And who knows, maybe our paths will cross again when we least expect it. Until that happens tho, farewell, my love.

With a heart full of memories,

Maya. 

The note left Y/n stunned and confused. Maya had seemed happy and content in their relationship. How could she just fall out of love and walk away like this? It didn't make sense to him in the least. There's no way this letter could be real.

What—? Huh—? More questions plagued his mind as he couldn't shake the feeling of betrayal and hurt. What had he done wrong? Had he pushed her away without realizing it? Or was there someone else?

Shaking his head, Y/n left his apartment building and headed straight for Maya's place. He needed to hear the reason for her decision from her own mouth, rather than reading it on a piece of paper. That wasn't fair to him and he deserved more.

Y/n's footsteps echoed hurriedly against the pavement as he hurried along the streets, rounding corners and navigating crosswalks. Finally, he arrived at Maya's place and hastily knocked on the door.

There was no response.

Then, Y/n inserted the spare key into the lock, twisted it, and marched inside. He stepped further into the room and called out to Maya when he noticed something.

Maya's apartment was empty.

It was completely devoid of her personal belongings — no furniture, decorations, nothing at all. He searched every room, drawer, and closet, but found no trace of her here. It was as if she never lived here.

Y/n pulled out his phone and tried to call Maya again — but it just went straight to voicemail. The realization sank in — this letter wasn't a joke or a prank. Maya had surely left him, and she hadn't even had the decency to do it in person or provide a proper explanation for her decision.

It was a hurtful and callous way to end their relationship. That's so messed up.

Y/n's hands balled into fists at his sides, the letter crumpling within his grasp. He felt a prickling sensation at the corners of his eyes, and he realized that he was experiencing two very human emotions:

Crying and heartbreak.

Y/n knew that gods experience human emotions such as crying, too. But now that Y/n was human, the experience felt different. In that moment, he understood the depths of his feelings for Maya. This was why mortals spoke of love as both a blessing and a curse — it can give you joy but could also inflict unbearable pain.

He exited Maya's apartment building, the crumpled letter still clutched in his hand, a tangible reminder of what he had lost. His eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, were facing downward as he walked, his thoughts consumed by these emotions. It was this lack of focus that caused him to accidentally bump into someone else, knocking their umbrella from their hand.

Crouching down, Y/n wrapped his hand around the umbrella to pick it up, but he found that he couldn't. Y/n bent down to retrieve the fallen umbrella, however, to his surprise, he found that he couldn't lift it. He tried with both hands this time, but the umbrella remained stubbornly out of reach. Jeez, this simple umbrella feels as hard as trying to lift Thor's hammer—

Wait a minute.

Y/n's eyes drifted upward, and he found Thor standing there, which means this umbrella was Thor's hammer in disguise.

"Oh, hi, Thor." Y/n’s voice came out soft, despite the emotions currently coursing through his mind, releasing his hold on the hammer. "Might want to pick that up."

Thor complied, lifting the hammer, eyes fixed on Y/n's e/c eyes. "Are you okay?"

Y/n’s response was quick. "Yes, I’m fine." 

Unconvinced by Y/n's fake composure, Thor placed a hand on his shoulder, his eyes filled with concern. "You know you don't have to pretend to be okay when it comes to me. You can tell me anything."

Finally, Y/n conceded. "Maya left me. Out of the blue, she broke things off and disappeared, and I don't understand why."

Thor's eyes softened, and he pulled Y/n into a comforting embrace. "I'm so sorry to hear that," his voice was, unknowingly, laced with feigned sympathy. "That lady doesn't deserve the honor of your love."

Unbeknownst to Y/n, a smirk played on Thor's lips, his eyes gleaming with a mix of vindication and triumph. He didn't like seeing Y/n in pain, but it was necessary.

The pain was only temporary, and Y/n would eventually get over this simple mortal. Then, there would be room for Thor, and they could finally be together.

In the weeks that followed, Y/n slipped into a deep depression. He spent most days lying in bed, thoughts consumed by the memories of Maya. He questioned everything, from his own worthiness to the nature of love itself. He didn't get it. Why had she left? Was he truly enough? These thoughts ate away at him — like maggots devouring the flesh of the dead.

Additionally, the only thing that stirred him from his bleak existence was his work. The familiarity of the restaurant, the mechanical tasks of serving tables, provided a fleeting sense of normalcy.

And throughout it all, there was only one person who was there for him — Thor.

The God of Thunder checked in on him regularly, offering words of comfort and support for his pal. He brought takeout, watched movies with him, and listened as the man poured out his heart, sharing his heartbreak and confusion. Thor was a great presence during his time of need.

In Thor's presence, he found himself smiling more. His appetite returned, and the dark circles under his eyes gradually faded. Y/n felt a little like himself again.

One evening, after Y/n finished his shift at the restaurant, he found himself with Thor in his bedroom. A movie played in the back, but they were too engrossed in conversation to pay attention to it. Thor had asked Y/n about his deepest desire.

"Well, being here on Earth for a long time made me desire love the most," was his admission as Y/n thought back to when he thought he had found love. "It seems that love is the emotion humans desire the most. I guess I'm one of them too."

Thor's eyes roamed over Y/n's face as if searching for something. And then, with deliberate slowness, he leaned in closer, his thumb gently stroking the back of Y/n's hand, sending shivers down his spine.

"I can give you the love you crave, Y/n," Thor murmured, voice deep and husky, his thumb continuing its gentle caress.

Y/n sat up straighter, his heart suddenly pounding in his chest. He grabbed the remote and turned off the television, their conversation now the sole focus.

"What do you mean?" he asked curiously.

"I mean," Thor's voice rumbled. "I can show you what it means to be desired."

Y/n opened his mouth to ask the man to elaborate when Thor surged forward, his left hand cupping the back of Y/n’s neck and capturing his lips in a brutal kiss. Y/n gasped into the kiss as Thor's tongue, invaded his mouth, tasting and claiming, leaving no doubt about his intentions. 

E/c eyes widened in surprise at this, but Y/n didn’t immediately pull away. Thor's kiss was demanding, possessive as his free arm wrapped around Y/n, placing a hand on his back, pulling him closer. Y/n could feel Thor's hardness against his left thigh, straining against the fabric of his pants, and he moaned into the kiss.

Suddenly, Y/n pulled away slightly, breathless. "Thor, I—"

"Shh," Thor placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. "You want this, Y/n. You want my touch, my possession. Admit it, and I'll give you the love that you desire. You’ll forget all about that mortal, Maya." 

Stunned by this turn of events, Y/n could only manage a breathless, "Alright," he knew that he did crave this intimacy and always found Thor attractive. He wanted to feel that type of intimacy once more.

Suddenly, he felt the powerful urge to assert his agreement more physically, more explicitly. So, he pushed Thor onto his back, straddling his muscular thighs.

A devilish smile curved Thor's lips as he tugged on Y/n's shirt, eager to taste the body of the guy that he had daydreamed about countless times. With a sharp tug, buttons flew across the room, revealing smooth skin and toned muscles beneath.

"Dangerous move, little waiter," Thor murmured, his hands roaming across Y/n's chest, thumbs grazing perky nipples that tightened, hardened from his touch. "Now, I get to have my way with you."

Then, Thor trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along Y/n's jawline and down his neck. His teeth scraped gently over Y/n's pulse point, nipping and sucking until a dark bruise formed. Y/n's breath hitched as Thor's hand glided lower, his fingers tracing the waistband of his sweatpants.

"You like it when I touch you, don't you?" Thor whispered, his hot breath fanning across Y/n's ear, "Tell me what you want."

Y/n craned his neck to allow Thor better access to his neck and shoulders. "I... I want you to touch me, Thor. Everywhere."

Thor didn’t need a further invitation. His hand slipped beneath the waistband of Y/n's pants, exploring the terrain of his six-pack abs before dipping lower. Y/n arched his back, his breath catching as calloused fingers brushed against the length of his already long, stiff cock.

"You're so hard for me, little one," Thor murmured, fingers teasing the outline of Y/n's length before pulling away. "I want to see it. Want to watch it throb for me."

With trembling fingers, Y/n removed his pants, sliding the fabric down his legs, along with his boxers. His cock twitched eagerly, the head already glistening with pre-cum. He had never been so aroused, so desperate to be touched and taken.

Thor's eyes darkened with desire as he reached for Y/n's cock, stroking it firmly, his right thumb teasing the sensitive slit. "That's it, my beautiful God. Let me see you. Show me how much you want this."

The former God's lips parted on a moan, his hips involuntarily bucking into Thor's hand quickly. "Please, Thor... don't stop."

Thor smirked, the possessive gleam in his eyes undeniable. "I plan to take this much further.  But first, I want a taste..."

And with that, Thor leaned down, his hot breath tickling the head of Y/n's cock before his tongue darted out, licking a thick stripe up the underside. Y/n cried out, his hips jerking at the unexpected pleasure, and Thor chuckled, the sound vibrating against Y/n's sensitive flesh.

"So responsive," Thor murmured, his lips wrapping around Y/n's hardness as he sucked and teased with practiced skill.

Y/n threaded his fingers through Thor's hair, his head falling back as sensations bombarded him. Thor's tongue swirled and twirled, his lips sucking on his cock, driving Y/n wild with need. He looked up at Y/n through his eyelashes, reveling in the sight of his pleasure-clouded eyes, and he sucked Y/n's length deep into his mouth, his hands caressing Y/n's thighs, thighs that now tremble with anticipation.

"Please, Thor," Y/n begged, his voice raw with need. "I want to feel you inside me."

Thor released Y/n's cock from his mouth with a lewd pop, saliva dripping from his lips as his fingers unfastened his pants. "Time to see what a real god looks like."

Thor sat up, his eyes flashing with promise as he slowly revealed his thick, veiny cock. Y/n's mouth went dry at the sight, his own spent cock twitching with some renewed interest. Reaching inside the nightstand, Thor discovered a bottle of lube and slicked up his cock for Y/n.

"Damn, Thor, that's huge," Y/n whispered his gaze devouring every inch of Thor's masculine glory. "Even bigger than mine."

A smug grin stretched across Thor's face as he pushed Y/n back against the bed, kicking off his pants in the process. "Get a good look at this and commit this to your memory and your heart, because I intend to make you scream my name."

With that promise ringing in the air, Thor climbed back onto the bed, positioning himself between Y/n’s thighs and lining up the tip of his cock with his entrance. 

"Tell me you want this, Y/n. Tell me you want me to fill you up." Thor's voice was low and commanding, his eyes intense.

Y/n nodded eagerly, his breath coming in short gasps. "Yeah, Thor. I want you. Please, take me. I need you inside me."

Hmm, Thor mused and pressed forward, his thick cock breaching Y/n with a slow, relentless thrust. Y/n cried out, his back arching off the bed as he was stretched wider than Y/n could remember. Thor paused, giving him a moment to adjust, but the reprieve was simply short-lived.

Thor began moving, his powerful thrusts driving Y/n into a euphoric haze. The bed creaked beneath them, the sound joined by the lewd slapping of skin and Y/n's loud moans as Thor’s hips moved.

"That's it, take it," The God of Thunder let out a growl, hands gripping Y/n's hips to gain better leverage. "You feel too good wrapped around my cock. I've dreamed of this... dreamed of claiming you, babe."

Y/n's eyes squeezed shut as he clung to Thor, his nails digging into the tall God's broad shoulders. "Oh, Thor, right there," he gasped, his entire body trembling on the edge of release. "Damn, I'm so close."

Thor's pace quickened, breath coming in hot, ragged gasps. "Open your eyes and look at me," he demanded, causing Y/n's eyes to snap open, his gaze locking with Thor's, and the Avenger's hand found his cock once again. "You make me feel like a true God. I could fuck you forever, but right now, I want you to come for me."

"Oh... fuck..." 

In response to Thor's words, Y/n's body tightened like a coil, and he came with a hoarse cry, his release coating Thor’s fingers. Then, Thor emptied himself into Y/n, his hips stuttering as he rode out his orgasm, painting Y/n’s ass hole in ribbons of white. He maintained eye contact with Y/n the whole time. Mine.

Panting and sweaty, Thor pulled out of Y/n and they collapsed against the bed, hearts beating fast from their encounter.

Thor pressed a tender kiss to Y/n's lips, his hands stroking the sweat-dampened skin of Y/n's torso. "You're incredible, Y/n. We were always meant to be together."

This was a known fact, and tonight was simply proof of their love for each other. Now, he needed to make sure Maya was fully out of the picture (Thor forced her to write that note to Y/n, and had set up a secret camera in Y/n's apartment, the footage transmitted to a hidden monitor in another location where he kept Maya chained and captive). Now that she had seen the love between them, he would tell Heimdall to execute her, ensuring she posed no threat to their happiness again.

Now, all that remained was for Odin to restore Y/n's powers. Then, they would be together forever, unburdened by the constraints that mortality has on people.

Just as it was meant to be. 

XXXXX XXXXX

[heretherebeturtles-comic]

⭐

ALRIGHT! I told myself I would write this as a reward for finishing today's tasks, so lets go!

Here There Be - Director's Commentary :D!!

Starting with Chapter 1 part 1 (pages 1-4)

First of all, everyone say a big thank you to my friend and editor OurLadyOfCoffee for double checking the spelling and grammar for this comic.

Any mistakes in the writing are my own fault for making last minute changes and not showing her before posting. If she had gotten her hands on this page "missing in all the time in this city" would never have happened ( u_u)... I'll go back and fix the page eventually.

Pages 1 & 2 (and 20) did not exist in the original draft of the chapter. I made it to the lineart/inking stage and the page flow was not working. April's narration felt too cramped and boring. I completely redid the whole 4 page section, and the end the final result is so much better!

Page 1 - Panel 1 had two purposes! One, the establishing shot, introducing our setting. Two, to show that NYC is rebuilding after the Krang. Its been a few months and thanks to cartoon logic, they have made significant progress fixing everything.

I love to experiment with colour as a storytelling device. I use red/orange multiple times at specific points throughout the chapter. It simply morning in NYC or is there something dangerous on the horizon... (figuratively)? The good ol' "Red sky at morning, sailors take warning."

Page 1. Panel 2 has a little 1987 April reference with the lady in the jumpsuit on the right. I was really excited to see a few folks point it out, even if it's not quite the iconic yellow jumpsuit. The colour had to be muted or the bold yellow would pull attention away from April (the focus of the panel).

Hello Junior, what do you have there? Something that won't get context for a while? These panels almost didn't make it into the final cut due to page/panel limits. I was very happy that the added pages gave space for it.

Page 2 - someone sent an ask a while back confused about what April was saying, so to explain the text in a more straightforward way: "the mutants that started out as humans have been going missing, but no one knows how long it has been happening or who has taken them. April has figured out that the non-human based mutations disappeared first."

that orange again, this time over the spots where the now missing mutants used to be :)<. I have no idea if this sort of thing is too subtle or not subtle enough, but it makes me go eheehehee and rub my hands together like an evil mastermind.

Page 3 - I debated whether or not to have them move after the movie. How much structural damage did the Krang do on their way through? What are the chances of the lair being discovered because of this? Would the city be too focused on cleanup elsewhere to bother finding it? Do I really want to design a whole new lair when this one is cool and we barely got to see it? In the end I decided that it was more important to have a familiar visual that the readers can instantly identify as the turtle's home. We'll see if there are consequences for remaining in a potentially compromised lair. :)

Despite only showing two rooms in the page, I spent several hours gathering references and building a layout for the entire station lair. I do not control the hyperfocus, it controls me.

Did you know that there are two different designs for this one archway in the main room? I love seeing stuff like this! If an animation studio with multiple background artists can have small inconsequential inconsistencies like this, then it's completely ok if it happens in my own work. It's relieving in a weird way.

PAGE 3 - panel 5 is another way I tried to show that a few months have passed since the movie. They have put some work into unpacking some of those boxes stacked in the back.

Page 4 - Hello Two Phones Jones <3

The Jones Duo! They both have a little outfit change :D! CJ has a rough edged jean vest calling back to the 1990 movie with 03 colours. Casey has a base outfit colour change to match and a cropped hoodie reminiscent of 1987, in pink ofc.

I do not yet have the skills to show the fight that happened in that shipping yard, so I decided that this comic would begin in the tense quiet after it. This also starts us closer to the actual plot instead of dilly dallying. Maybe I'll eventually make a prelude comic to show what all went down.

Aaand that's pretty much it for April's 03 style narrated opening sequence! This is where the intro theme would start playing~

Thank you for the star, I hope this was interesting! I make so many small decisions per page, it's nice to share some of my thoughts. :)

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hi, so i writing a book based in the 1800s like the cowboy eras can you please tell me somethings I should keep in mind about the society and stuff also I need a little motivation I have been loosing it all please and thankyou <<<333

Writing Notes: Cowboys

Cowboy

In the western United States: a horseman skilled at handling cattle, an indispensable laborer in the cattle industry of the trans-Mississippi west, and a romantic figure in American folklore.

Pioneers from the United States encountered Mexican vaqueros (Spanish, literally, “cowboys”; English “buckaroos”) on ranches in Texas about 1820, and soon adopted their masterful skills and equipment—the use of lariat, saddle, spurs, and branding iron.

But cattle were only a small part of the economy of Texas until after the Civil War.

The development of a profitable market for beef in northern cities after 1865 prompted many Texans, including many formerly enslaved African Americans, to go into cattle raising. (Though they have been almost entirely excluded from the mythology of the American cowboy, it is estimated that Black cowboys accounted for nearly a quarter of all cattle workers in the nascent American West during the latter half of the 19th century.)

By the late 1800s, the lucrative cattle industry had spread across the Great Plains from Texas to Canada and westward to the Rocky Mountains.

Vaqueros

In 1519, shortly after the Spanish arrived in the Americas, they began to build ranches to raise cattle and other livestock. Horses were imported from Spain and put to work on the ranches.

Mexico’s native cowboys were called vaqueros, which comes from the Spanish word vaca (cow). Vaqueros were hired by ranchers to tend to the livestock and were known for their superior roping, riding and herding skills.

By the early 1700s, ranching made its way to present-day Texas, New Mexico, Arizona and as far south as Argentina. When the California missions started in 1769, livestock practices were introduced to more areas in the West.

During the early 1800s, many English-speaking settlers migrated to the West and adopted aspects of the vaquero culture, including their clothing style and cattle-driving methods.

Cowboys came from diverse backgrounds and included African-Americans, Native Americans, Mexicans and settlers from the eastern United States and Europe.

Cowboy Life

Cowboys were mostly young men who needed cash. The average cowboy in the West made about $25 to $40 a month.

In addition to herding cattle, they also helped care for horses, repaired fences and buildings, worked cattle drives and in some cases helped establish frontier towns.

Cowboys occasionally developed a bad reputation for being lawless, and some were banned from certain establishments.

They typically wore large hats with wide brims to protect them from the sun, boots to help them ride horses and bandanas to guard them from dust. Some wore chaps on the outsides of their trousers to protect their legs from sharp cactus needles and rocky terrain.

When they lived on a ranch, they shared a bunkhouse with each other. For entertainment, some sang songs, played the guitar or harmonica & wrote poetry.

Cowboys were referred to as cowpokes, buckaroos, cowhands and cowpunchers.

The most experienced cowboy was called the Segundo (Spanish for “second”) and rode squarely with the trail boss.

Everyday work was difficult and laborious for cowboys. Workdays lasted about 15 hours, and much of that time was spent on a horse or doing other physical labor.

Rodeo Cowboys

Some cowboys tested their skills against one another by performing in rodeos—competitions that were based on the daily tasks of a cowboy.

Rodeo activities included bull riding, calf roping, steer wrestling, bareback bronco riding and barrel racing.

The first professional rodeo was held in Prescott, Arizona, in 1888. Since then, rodeos became—and continue to be—popular entertainment events in the United States, Mexico and elsewhere.

Joseph G. McCoy offered the wealthy cattleman's vision of the cowboy. He recorded a reasonably balanced, if slightly condescending, views in his 1874 treatise on the cattle trade.

He lives hard, works hard, has but few comforts and fewer necessities. He has but little, if any, taste for reading. He enjoys a coarse practical joke or a smutty story; loves danger but abhors labor of the common kind; never tires riding, never wants to walk, no matter how short the distance he desires to go. He would rather fight with pistols than pray; loves tobacco, liquor and women better than any other trinity. His life borders nearly upon that of an Indian. If he reads anything, it is in most cases a blood and thunder story of a sensational style. He enjoys his pipe, and relishes a practical joke on his comrades, or a corrupt tale, wherein abounds much vulgarity and animal propensity.

Black Cowboys

African American horsemen who wrangled cattle in the western United States in the late 1800s and beyond.

Though they were almost entirely excluded from the mythology of the American cowboy, it is estimated that Black men accounted for nearly a quarter of all cattle workers in the nascent American West during the latter half of the 19th century.

In the years following the Civil War (1861–65) and emancipation from slavery, a budding ranching industry promised freedom and prosperity unknown to most Black Americans, many of whom were formerly enslaved themselves or were the children of enslaved parents.

Texas became part of the United States in 1845, and, by 1860, enslaved people accounted for 30 percent of the state’s population. Among them were some of the first Black cowboys: skilled laborers with experience in breaking horses and herding stock. Many were given the autonomy to work unsupervised, and some even carried guns.

The cowboy lifestyle came into its own in Texas, which had been cattle country since it was colonized by Spain in the 1500s. But cattle farming did not become the bountiful economic and cultural phenomenon recognized today until the late 1800s, when millions of cattle grazed in Texas.

White Americans seeking cheap land—and sometimes evading debt in the United States—began moving to the Spanish (and, later, Mexican) territory of Texas during the first half of the 19th century.

Though the Mexican government opposed slavery, Americans brought slaves with them as they settled the frontier and established cotton farms and cattle ranches.

By 1825, slaves accounted for nearly 25 percent of the Texas settler population.

By 1860, fifteen years after it became part of the Union, that number had risen to over 30 percent—that year’s census reported 182,566 slaves living in Texas.

As an increasingly significant new slave state, Texas joined the Confederacy in 1861. Though the Civil War hardly reached Texas soil, many white Texans took up arms to fight alongside their brethren in the East.

While Texas ranchers fought in the war, they depended on their slaves to maintain their land and cattle herds.

In doing so, the slaves developed the skills of cattle tending (breaking horses, pulling calves out of mud and releasing longhorns caught in the brush, to name a few) that would render them invaluable to the Texas cattle industry in the post-war era. But with a combination of a lack of effective containment— barbed wire was not yet invented—and too few cowhands, the cattle population ran wild.

Ranchers returning from the war discovered that their herds were lost or out of control. They tried to round up the cattle and rebuild their herds with slave labor, but eventually the Emancipation Proclamation left them without the free workers on which they were so dependent.

Desperate for help rounding up maverick cattle, ranchers were compelled to hire now-free, skilled African-Americans as paid cowhands.

Freed blacks skilled in herding cattle found themselves in even greater demand when ranchers began selling their livestock in northern states, where beef was nearly ten times more valuable than it was in cattle-inundated Texas.

The lack of significant railroads in the state meant that enormous herds of cattle needed to be physically moved to shipping points in Kansas, Colorado and Missouri. Rounding up herds on horseback, cowboys traversed unforgiving trails fraught with harsh environmental conditions and attacks from Native Americans defending their lands.

African-American cowboys faced discrimination in the towns they passed through—they were barred from eating at certain restaurants or staying in certain hotels, for example—but within their crews, they found respect and a level of equality unknown to other African-Americans of the era.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 ⚜ More: Notes & References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs

Writing occasionally makes me feel like I'm losing it too! I find that taking a step back can be good. That time away from being a writer can be used to being the reader again, and to research your topic. And when your head's clear enough, you can go back & see if the story flows more freely, armed with information you collected to incorporate in your writing. Hope this helps <3

[hiraethwrote]

contents : gn!reader but written with f!reader in mind, angst, no comfort, established relationship, manga spoilers!!, character death, reader is unconscious/passed out, grief and loss, reader is kind of in a depressive epiosde, depictions of an anxiety attack?, no use of y/n — wc 1.2k

god, it felt as if though it had been an eternity since you’d been able to indulge in the simple privilege of caressing the man you loved.

however, the genuine bliss of seeing him again was short lived as the higher ups did not allow it to be anything more than a brief reunion.

they really did hate you that much — the way you had a tendency to wholeheartedly disagree with them on a regular basis, and never keeping quiet about it either.

that “rude mouth of yours” was punished in the pettiest way possible, by doing the one thing they knew would cause you the most turmoil — separating you from satoru.

“your abilities are needed elsewhere,” they’d argue, a cruel satisfaction to their voice as you were once again sent out of town for missions. and what could you do? refuse to save people in need because you couldn’t stand not sleeping safely in the embrace of your other half?

arguing would only give them more reasons to punish you even further. or worse. punish satoru.

three whole months without seeing him before the conflict in shibuya started — and even then the higher ups found it fitting to situate you and satoru on opposite sides of the city.

but once the news of satoru being sealed in the prison realm reached you, there was nothing the higher ups could say or do to control you. even they knew that.

there was only one thing on your mind — freeing him. you barely slept, you barely ate, getting him back into your arms being your sole concern.

and finally after nineteen days, he was back where he belonged. though only for a moment.

the palms of your hands were running hot against his skin, placed on each side of his face, forcing him to direct his cerulean blue eyes on you. after all this time, the sensation felt almost too good to be true. he was actually standing in front of you — this wasn’t one or the countless dreams you’d had during your time apart.

what you wouldn’t give to stay like this forever, just you and him in each other's arms. to live a life where neither of you were adorned with outer-worldly powers that had you both be run to the ground with duty and responsibility.

but you knew the world would never be as kind as to grant you more than the mere idea of such a life.

“but i just got you back,” you whispered meekly, the words breaking apart as you simultaneously tried to swallow your sobs.

for the entire time he had been trapped, you had been the only thing on his mind. it was only the thought of you that had kept him from losing grip on reality when he was stuck in that hellhole.

and now, finally standing in front of you again, you were still the only thing on his mind — he tried to conceal his own sorrow, so visible in his eyes, by plastering that charming smile of his that always had your shoulders relax. there was just something about it that felt like home.

“hey,” he spoke softly as his hand came up to cup your jaw, hunching forward so only you could hear him, and at the same time shielding you away from the modest crowd of worried onlookers. however; you could still feel their sympathetic looks stare right at the two of you. “we found our way back to each other. we’ll do it again.”

that was the first and only time satoru had lied to you.

you felt it when it happened.

time stopped, and the world turned quiet.

that’s when you knew — satoru was dead. and the path that had always lead to him, that had always been so clear, just simply vanished. gone.

no one allowed you to see him at the scene. you tried, every cell in your body fighting to be next to him, but being forcefully pulled away.

then everything turned black.

suddenly your eyes opened.

you took a deep, shaky breath — it was weird, like you had finally reached the surface after fighting your way through a lonely abyss for weeks.

then you became aware of your surroundings, the cold bedsheets swallowing you as you recognised the room that now felt so alien.

frozen still in the fetal position, your eyes locked on edge of the other side of the bed — had it always been so far away?

god, was this all real? you weren’t just waking up from a nightmare? was he really gone?

you stretched your arm forward, your hand trembling as you dared let it graze the empty spot next to you were satoru was supposed to be.

you couldn’t explain it, but it was almost as you could see him — your eyes trailing the imaginary silhouette of his body that used to rest beside you, always lied on his side to face you.

early mornings spent lazy in bed for hours, neither of you wanting to leave and face the day that waited you. you would both grunt and moan disapprovingly, complaining about how the second you left the safety of your bedroom, you would be requested from every corner.

now you would give everything to complain about it again.

never again would your mornings be adorned with that soft tug of his lips. never again would his big hands pull you into his chest so you could bask in his warmth.

this was the life you had to get used to now. one without him.

you never thought you would have to face that reality, yet here you were.

you only realised you had started to cry when you heard a soft tap on the door. it echoed obnoxiously in your sensitive ears, followed by a voice you knew you recognised — but you were racking your brain trying to pair it up with a name, ultimately failing.

“are you awake?” a female’s voice sounded muffled through the door.

you opened your mouth to answer, but no sound came out. you tried clearing your throat, but still your throat was too soar for any words to be spoken.

the door creaked open, a sliver of bright light burning your eyes as it peaked through. once adjusted to the light, you recognised the face as shoko.

“hey,” she said in a whisper, “want me to bring you some food?”

“shoko-“ your said, voice cracking immediately.

once she heard you speak her name, it dawned on her you were actually awake, not just the shell of a person you had been for the past few weeks.

“is it real? is he really gone?” your hoarse tone broke her heart, rushing over to you and not hesitating to pull your head into her lap.

you hands clutched onto her arm, fingertips digging into her flesh as it would somehow erase the intense pain that rushed over you like a tidal wave.

shoko desperately tried to hush your gut wrenching sobs while stroking your hair. every muscle in your body tensed up, causing you to hunch further into yourself.

“it’s going to be okay,” she whispered over and over, at loss of what to say or do — she knew nothing would even start to suffice, the gaping black hole left in you was simply too big for anything to heal it.

he was gone.

and he wasn’t coming back.

an : hea in her satoru feels? hea writing angst? seems like 2025 is very similar to 2024 so far

tags : @sad-darksoul . @madaqueue . @gdamnackerman . @toadtoru . @harperluvgojo

©hiraethwrote 2025 . all rights reserved. reposting, translating and otherwise plagarisim is prohibited

[aventurineswife]

What about...Aventurine, Ratio and Boothill w/ a s/o who's a model?

“Confidence is the best outfit. Rock it and own it”

Tags: Aventurine x Reader, Ratio x Reader, Boothill x Reader, Fluff, Romance, Established Relationship, Model!Reader, Playful Affection, Introspection.

A/N: VICTORIA'S SECRET ANGEL ADRIANA LIMA!! 🗣️🔥

Aventurine leaned against the entrance of the studio, his eyes gleaming with mischief as he watched you prepare for the photoshoot. The elegant, confident way you moved, every step purposeful, made his heart race. He wasn’t one for admiration, but there was something about the way you owned the space that made him see you in a whole new light.

"Do you always look this dangerous?" he asked with a smirk, his eyes scanning your outfit—a daring, high-fashion ensemble that reflected both your elegance and your strength.

You turned to him, a playful smile curling at your lips. "You know I always keep it risky." you replied, giving him a wink. The mischievousness in your voice matched the glint in his eyes.

As the photographer called you to the set, Aventurine’s gaze never left you. He saw not just the model but the strategist—the one who played the game as skillfully as he did. You and he had a shared understanding, a bond built on your mutual appreciation for calculated moves.

"You’ll own this shoot," he whispered, his voice low and intimate. "But remember, the risk is what makes it fun."

Later, when the shoot wrapped up and you joined him in the lounge, you shared a quiet moment over drinks. He leaned in close, his hand gently brushing yours. "I think I’ve found my favorite model." he teased, his words filled with affection and unspoken admiration.

The soft hum of the city echoed in the background as Boothill stood by the window, his mechanical arm resting casually on the ledge. His gaze never wavered from the skyline, but his mind was elsewhere, focused on you. The way you commanded attention in front of the camera, the way the light reflected off your model features—everything about you made his mechanical heart(?) skip.

He wasn’t one for the glitz and glamour of the fashion world. He was used to the roughness of the streets and the harsh realities of the galaxy. But there was something captivating about you—your beauty was as fierce and untamed as the storms he chased in the wild.

You approached him, the elegant attire you wore shimmering in the low light. Boothill’s sharp eyes softened as you smiled at him. "You think I look good in this?" you asked with a teasing grin.

Boothill let out a soft chuckle, the sound foreign to his usual gruff demeanor. "You look like you could kill a man with a single glance." he said, his voice laced with admiration.

You smirked, leaning in to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Then you won’t mind me stealing your heart while I’m at it."

Boothill placed a hand on your waist, pulling you closer. His usual bluntness softened in your presence, and for the first time in a long while, he felt at peace. "Never met anyone quite like you, darlin'. You’re a lot more dangerous than you look."

Ratio stood with arms crossed, his hair cascading down one side of his face as his eyes focused intently on you. You were sitting across from him, preparing for your latest photoshoot, and though he would never admit it, he found the entire process... fascinating. The way you held yourself with such poise, the way your movements were as precise as any equation he solved in his lab—there was something undeniably perfect about you.

“Your posture,” he remarked, breaking the silence. “It’s… immaculate. A study in controlled elegance.”

You chuckled softly, adjusting your position slightly. "You’re too kind. But I do strive for perfection, as you do."

He tilted his head slightly, his piercing eyes narrowing with approval. "Perfection is an elusive concept," he replied, his voice always measured. "But you, my dear, come closer to it than anyone I’ve encountered."

The photoshoot proceeded, but Ratio remained transfixed by your every move. He had seen brilliance in many forms, but your beauty wasn’t just skin deep—it was the perfect blend of intellect and grace. As the shoot ended, he walked over to you, his hand brushing the edge of your attire as he offered a small but genuine smile. "You are a work of art." he said, almost to himself.

You smiled back, a warmth radiating from you that even his stoic nature couldn't ignore. "And you, Doc, are the one who can truly appreciate it."

He studied you for a moment longer, his expression softening. "Indeed, I am." he admitted, his voice tinged with rare admiration.

[the-clock-of-the-time-dragon]

Okay so hear me out... [Massive spoilers and speculation on Wicked films ahead]

It's apparent that Wicked Part 2 is going to have new, expanded, and altered scenes — but by far the most tantalizing is implied by the first scene of the first film.

We see a cloaked figure on horseback fleeing from Kiamo Ko after the Melting, and then we see Dorothy, Tin Man, Cowardly Lion, and the Scarecrow on the Yellow Brick Road back to the Emerald City. This is in keeping with the 1939 Wizard of Oz, which implies something hugely important about the plot of Wicked Part 2: the musical's original ending has been changed.

In the original stage version, Fiyero comes back to Kiamo Ko after getting his diploma brain from the Wizard and all that, and Elphaba comes out from her little trapdoor, and then they leave Oz together without telling anyone. It's unclear (on purpose, obviously), but it seems very apparent that the cloaked rider we see at the start of the 2024 film is Elphaba. This leaves us with a few possibilities for how the plot will unfold in Part 2.

1.) Elphaba simply leaves alone, telling nobody — not even Fiyero — that she's alive. I am okay with this, since honestly the way that the finale of the musical was written has always felt kinda clunky and borderline plot-holey to me.

2.) They still end up having the original ending happen, just switched around the order of some of the events. Maybe Elphaba escapes first but then finds Fiyero alone elsewhere somehow, and in the end still leaves Oz with him. I'd accept it — it is probably the most likely version they might go with — but with all the changes being made, I would be a little disappointed if it ends up this way ngl, when they have the chance to make a new ending that far surpasses the original.

3.) Elphaba leaves alone BUT makes Glinda and/or Fiyero aware of her survival somehow. This is actually a surprisingly plausible option I think, since Elphaba in the original show immediately wanted to tell Glinda she was alive (with Fiyero talking her out of it — which may not be a thing that happens anymore); and just IMAGINE how poignant heartrending it would be if Glinda were to find the old Emerald City guide with the note she wrote her in it, but with "I hope you get what your heart desires" in it in Elphie's handwriting, or something like that. Maybe even with Glinda singing her final "Good News!" after seeing it — leaving the door open that Glinda might have a chance to find her Elphie someday. Or hell, if they wanted to they could use the closing lines of the book in some form: the classic "did she ever come out?" and "not yet" (which of course itself has some delightfully sapphic undertones)

4.) Mostly wishful thinking on the part of my very very sapphic ass, but... can you fucking IMAGINE if they dared to rewrite an ending where Elphaba finds Glinda and asks her one more time "come with me..."?? And then they LEAVE OZ TOGETHER??? Not as plausible an answer as the others, I know — but can't a girl dream? I mean they set it up so well, if nothing else it's THERE for them to use if they decided to have the courage. In the first movie Elphaba says "come with me" twice to Glinda: first when she asks Glinda to come with her to the Emerald City (her 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓻𝓽’𝓼 𝓭𝓮𝓼𝓲𝓻𝓮), and lastly when she asks Glinda to come with her on her broomstick and escape (which of course Glinda refuses). If they decided to give Glinda a second chance to say yes and go with her, and this time she takes it... I mean, it would just be a really solid payoff to the material already established and obviously would also short-circuit all our gay little hearts. And the fact it's even conceivable they COULD do that is really exciting in and of itself. It isn't 2003 anymore, the stars are very on board for queerness — the only thing really reining in my hopes is the fact a major Hollywood family film blockbuster (even in 2024, sadly) usually can't bite the bullet and go full gay: BUT, who said it would have to be explicitly gay if Elphaba and Glinda leave together? Who's to say we couldn't get them And They Were Very Good Friends-ing away into the sunset together? No Homo as the plausible deniability needed to pull off the best sapphic victory in movie history? Oops, there go my hopes again, trying to defy gravity, lol

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hiii I know you’ve talked about Lilia and Silver’s relationship before but how about Lilia and Malleus’s? He’s one of Lilia’s “sons” too, the first! I’d like to hear how you see their father-son relationship.

cbjsbsjwjskdn So strange!! I feel like I haven’t really talked much about Lilia and Malleus’s father-son relationship even though I’m such a sucker for family-related drama… Well, now is as good of a time as any!

***Please note: there are spoilers for 7-68+ in the main story; if you are comfortable with late book 7 spoilers, then please proceed with reading below the cut!***

Book 7 has made it pretty evident that Malleus thinks the world of Lilia and is willing to go to great lengths to protect him. Their bond is something that has been alluded to many times over prior to this point though!

Malleus has mentioned that Lilia trained him when he was younger. He did have formal tutors, but it was Lilia who instilled survival skills in him and taught him lessons unable to be learned through just a textbook. We get to observe one such scene via a flashback, which shows the aftermath of one of Malleus’s fits. The castle and various staff members were encased in ice, and along comes Lilia to fix things. He offers Malleus a bowl of shaved ice and invites him to eat with everyone (as the cause for his anger in the first place had been that his grandmother was busy with her duties and could no longer make time to each with him as promised). Lilia reminds Malleus that someone like him has great powers, so he has to wield it responsibly—otherwise he could have lost many of the people he is now sharing this snack with. (This is a very valid lesson since Malleus was capable of magic—and thus harming others—right out of the eggshell; he once singed Lilia’s hair with his flames.)

Malleus reports that Lilia has cut his hair for him (despite Malleus probably being able to go to a formal expert or the court’s hairdresser). Lilia has also sung to him at night and even taught Malleus how to play instruments.

It’s not clear to what extent Lilia was involved in his liege’s life, because even though he is established as a caretaker to Malleus, it was also revealed that Lilia was apparently banished from the capital city so they’d have to arrange to meet elsewhere. It’s known that Malleus would sometimes visit Lilia and baby Silver in their forest cottage, but again the frequency of these visits is unknown (Did he, like his headstrong mother, sneak out against the wishes of the senators?) I’d imagine that Malleus is kept fairly busy with studies to prepare him to ascend to the throne, but from the way Lilia describes raising Malleus, it sounds like he was with him quite frequently: “I always know exactly where he is. After all, I have been watching him since he was brushing eggshell off of his head.”

To this day, Lilia serves a similar guiding role, often acting as the facilitator between Malleus and his peers, as well as continuing to be a mentor to him. Malleus maintains his standoffish and difficult to approach aura at NRC, so it is Lilia who encourages him to engage with his peers. He delivers a holiday card to Malleus’s new friend who has taken up residence in Ramshackle. He invites Malleus as his plus one to Silk City in A Firelit Sky, wishing for him to see more of the world—even when disaster strikes and Lilia cannot accompany him. He extols the virtues of understanding and bonding with other races both in the main story (book 6) and in vignettes (Malleus’s Dorm Uniform). He gives Malleus a formal invitation to his farewell party (like, envelope and all!), because he knows just how much that would mean to him. Lilia has seen how a country looks when it has been ravaged by war and hate. He knows how a heart can grow bitter and resentful if left to fester in isolation. So he works his ass off to try and ensure that Malleus, the future of his country, can lead it to an era of peace and love that Lilia only got to experience with the passage of time. It could also be said that Lilia places a big emphasis on Malleus as their “future” since Lilia already suffered the loss of two close friends, Malleus’s parents.

Lilia seems to think of Malleus as a capable leader and one of great character, though perhaps marked with inexperience and a lack of worldly knowledge (which is why he pushes for Malleus to go out of his comfort zone). Most notably, he tells Leona in book 2: “[… ] with that sensitive ego of yours? That so quickly directs all your petty anger at your retainers... Well, the idea of you ever contending with a REAL king like our Malleus—is absolutely laughable. Even if you COULD defeat Malleus, so long as that's how you choose to conduct yourself? You would never be fit to rule!”

At times, Lilia has the habit of treating Malleus like a child. Something he does a lot is reassure his prince that it is okay to feel a certain way (usually frustrated or angry) and that Malleus is not capable of hiding the truth from his keen eyes. Lilia usually encourages Malleus to be more honest with his emotions and to take the chance to act like the child he is and enjoy his school life. Malleus tends to not take to the former very well, reminding Lilia that he is not a child and that he understands the circumstances. Despite these claims, he to hold Lilia in high regard and trusts him a great deal. Lilia currently occupies his vice dorm leader seat, which is implied to be handpicked by the dorm leader. Furthermore, Malleus trusts Lilia to fulfill the dorm leader duties that he is not capable of or able to, as we see Lilia attending dorm leader meetings and leading the Diasomnia freshmen during orientation.

Lilia is a more lax than Sebek and Silver when it comes to monitoring Malleus. He is of the belief that their prince needs his own independence and to experience life without people constantly breathing down his neck. Malleus, as we know, enjoys solitude like his midnight strolls throughout campus. In Leona’s Union Jacket vignettes, he also discusses the freedom of going out in public without an encourage accompanying him. Lilia is able to easily read and understand Malleus’s feelings in this regard (though he is good at reading all of the Diasomnia boys).

Malleus still cherishes the virtual pet that Lilia gifted him years ago. He takes care of it diligently, even though he is constantly faced with the cycle of Gao-Gao Dragon-kun/Roaring Draco growing up and leaving the nest. According to Malleus’s Labwear vignettes, he considers the virtual pet one of his most important treasures.

The two are able to pal around with each other despite holding the other in such high regard. When Malleus and Lilia are placed on opposite teams for Beans Day, they find fun in roughhousing and relish in the challenge (not really paying attention to the fact that their sheer power and speed is on a whole different level than that of the other students). They also served as co-conspirators in Endless Halloween Night, something which upset the other students and they both apologized for. Mischief isn’t entirely off the plate for this duo!

Malleus grew up without his parents (and his grandmother often kept away by her royal duties), so it’s possible that he latched onto Lilia as a parental figure. He is shown to be protective of Lilia both in vignettes and in the main story. For example, in Lilia’s PE Uniform vignette, Rook is chatting with Lilia and indicates that he is interested in Lilia as his hunting quarry—but Malleus throws the ball meant for long throwing at Rook, just narrowly missing his nose. “Perhaps he suspected that you were picking on little old me,” Lilia suggests. However, the example I’m sure we’re all familiar with of Malleus being protective of Lilia is book 7… when he decides it would be better you force everyone to have happy dreams instead of accepting a reality that changes and forces you to say good-bye to your loved ones. Malleus explicitly states that he is taking these actions so he “doesn’t lose [Lilia]”. Indeed, it is Lilia deciding to drop out of NRC and retire to the Land of Crimson Long that was the impetus for Malleus’s blot to kick into overdrive. When Lilia “wakes” from the dream, Malleus is eager to keep him in it. He offers to come up with a new dream, desperate and intent on keeping Lilia trapped there.

Malleus holds a lot of weight for Lilia too. When Lilia is pulled into a dream world fastened by Malleus’s magic to guarantee a “happy ending”, Lilia dreams of… an era of war? At first, Silver and co. find this to be strange because war isn’t something you tend to associate with happiness. It’s not until far later that Silver realizes what the real “happiest moment in [his father’s] life” is: the moment of Malleus finally hatching from his egg. Previously, Malleus had been very picky and rejecting the magic offered to him by others, even his own grandmother. This led to a dire situation where he was at risk of dying in his shell, as a dragon’s egg needs infusions of love and magic in order to be viable. In offering up much of himself—including a chunk of his own lifespan—Lilia helped Malleus hatch. To Lilia, this was his happiest—not because he “loves” Malleus more than Silver, but because Malleus hatching as a result of Lilia’s magic is affirming to Lilia that he is capable of parental love. This was a concern he communicated to Meleanor before she parted from this world, that he wasn’t sure he could look after Malleus in her stead because he’s an orphan and has never experienced what it is like to be loved… so he can’t have the capacity to love either. Meleanor reassures him though! If Lilia can love her and Raverne, then surely he can also bring himself to love their child. All these years, Lilia has never thought himself capable of “true love”—not even when he finds an infant Silver later, abandoned in a briar covered castle. But in that moment, when Malleus hatched, a miracle happened, and that miracle was the result of Lilia’s love.

This brings me to one final point about Lilia and Malleus’s relationship: how self-sacrificial Lilia is. Lilia hides a LOT of information from his loved ones, including Silver and Sebek, and instead chooses to accept the emotional burden of knowing himself. He does it with good intention, not wanting his children to be hurt by the scars of the past, but in a way that closes the boys off from fully understanding where they come from and Lilia’s own emotions. This is behavior that continues into present day, including Lilia being in a rush to leave to spare his boys the pain of a prolonged farewell. (I talk more about this aspect of Lilia’s character here, so I would advise reading that if you are interested in this topic.)

To conclude, Malleus and Lilia both highly respect and care for one another. Their bond is a strong one, and that’s perhaps why Malleus is so determined to cling to it—Lilia is one of the few intimate and meaningful connections he has.

[croquettish]

i wanted to ask, how historically accurate are the game's bathhouses and hans' and henry's casual attitude to them? is it just a convenient game mechanic or was it a thing and was it not a big deal for some people? also another question relating to sins, how much of a sin was (in theory and in practice and depending on who you were) killing people, from that done in battles to ones done in random encounters on the road?

Oh I love this question because we know for suuuure that this was a very casual thing. Mind you, in bigger cities these would have been much larger, communal bathhouses, but in smaller towns that just isn't an option, especially if your setup consists of a tent with a few tubs, you know?

So, how do we know this with such certainty that they were frequented that much? Because they were fucking SUPER SPREADERS in the Black Death (which, of course, was yet another thing gay people were blamed for).

Moreover, bear in mind that bathhouses were either associated with brothels or were, themselves, brothels, especially if the option for privacy was present. The idea of them as dens of iniquity is far from new.

Michael Rocke's Forbidden Friendships: Homosexuality and Male Culture in Renaissance Florence is a fascinating read that delves into this topic a little (and I do mean just a little, def don't grab it if your interest is in 15th century bathhouses in particular; I'm using it here because it makes a lot of points for me really efficiently). You'll recall that Florence and Paris in particular were always viewed as THE place for fans of sodomy, so as you read these little excerpts remember that it would not have been this lax elsewhere. Nevertheless, they give us a really good idea of the association between the two:

"Although much of the more or less public sex … was disseminated throughout the city, often near two partners' homes, certain neighborhoods stood out. Not coincidentally, most of these areas corresponded with other places of ill repute in the urban sexual landscapes—brothels, taverns, and baths—which were located mainly in the central district. The streets and alleys close to all the major prostitution zones were frequently identified as places for sodomitical encounters…" (p. 154) "When authorities in the 1490s tightened the control of sodomy … they closely regulated baths and taverns, ordering them to close early and to bar entrance to "suspect boys" and other "persons suspected of sodomy" (p. 159) "Many men and boys consummated their sexual relations in rooms in nearly all of the thirty to forty taverns and inns and in the several public baths spread throughout the city. In addition, many said they ate or drank together in taverns before or after having sex elsewhere, and the alleys, streets, or fields around taverns were also common sites for trysts. Most establishments appear as locations for sexual encounters only a few times, but several were mentioned often enough to suggest that they were known as places were males could indulge in sodomy with no questions asked, probably—as some claimed—with the complicity of the host. It is unlikely, however, that any taverns catered only or even mainly to sodomites and their boys or only to male clients. They likely entertained prostitutes and perhaps other lower-class women, and within them a climate of relaxed morality reigned that fostered an easy coexistence between female prostitution and male sodomy" (p. 160)

Florence is exceptional because they only started cracking down on bathhouses and other places like them in the late 15th century (is this me urging fandom to send Hansry to Florence to live out their gay dreams? maybe), though even in the 1430s convictions for sodomy were already multiplying at an alarming rate, affecting even ruling officials and nobles. Regardless, the crackdown happened much later than in other places, but Florence also had a reputation. This level of permissiveness or prevalence of encounters either would not have happened in a place like Kuttenberg or, if it did, it would have needed to be a lot more... discreet.

That said, I do think if Henry showed up at Betty's doorstep and asked her to please let him and Hans fuck there, considering all the stuff he did for her, I think she'd say yes without question. But maybe that's just me.

As for your question about sin, the thing about Warhorse's choice of setting is really... important here. Because 1403 had Bohemia in just... the fucking throws of the Wenceslas v. Sigismund conflict. Lawlessness was rampant. There's a reason Henry runs into so many bandits on the road!

Within the context of war, unfortunately the idea is that everything is permitted. And especially if you win, God is more or less telling you that he's on your side. Outside of those bounds... I mean, self-defense is one thing, but if you're just killing people, that's something different entirely. One penitential that I read detailed how people who committed murders were sent off to spend one year doing penance away from the rest of society and then could rejoin it. But that sort of thing ends up varying from place to place. It's really a case of "God doesn't approve of this, so how much do we make them do to make up for the sin?"

[florencesf1blog]

wine

'But if he gets what he wants, i'll be happy too right?'

pt1: cherry

Now, Carlos was a man of his words. He would always fulfill his promises no matter what it cost him. So she simply couldn’t act surprised when he brought another woman to their home.

Though she batted an eye when it was another the day after, and another the next. It only proved how easily replaceable she was. A constant reminder that she was not loved by her husband. The man she had vowed to. The women she saw come and go looked nothing like her too. It was borderline insulting.

A new routine established. He’d disappear in his office, then disappear in the city, and then he’d return home to disappear inside another woman. Every. Single. Day. She was supposed to be his wife. Yet she couldn’t help but feel like the other woman as she tried to hide away from her husband and his hookups.

This day seemed different. Instead of going out, he decided to seek attention elsewhere. Someplace he knew he’d get exactly what he wanted. The good for nothing woman he had to call his wife. What a burden. But after such an exhausting day it was her that kept circling his mind. A different type of feeling. One he couldn’t distinguish. Though he was getting pretty tired at the mere thought of her.

Slumped onto the couch he couldn’t even bring himself to look up when she walked in. She was most surprised to see him in the comfort of their own home. But the look on his face proves otherwise. Carefully, she approaches. As if not to anger the beast.

“You look exhausted”

She points out softly, nervously awaiting his response. He was too tired to snap at you. Too tired for any type of energy. Lolling his head in her direction, their eyes meet for the first time in weeks. She feels a spark of hope. He feels a pang of annoyance at the stupid look on her face.

A desperate little puppy, he thought to himself.

Without a word, he beckons her over to come sit with him. If she didn’t have any self control she would’ve jumped onto him immediately. Instead she counted her steps as she approached the couch.

His legs spread further as she approached, telling her exactly where to sit without any words. And she does, of course she does. She makes an attempt at hiding her excitement, though she blooms like cherries in the spring. He shifts once she’s situated between his legs, his lips so close to the shell of her ear.

“Just stay here” he whispers, almost reassuringly when the pads of his thumb press into her muscles. A small gasp leaves her lips at the sudden action as his hands work her neck and shoulders. It was clear how tense she was by looking at her, but he could only feel it disappear under his touch.

“You should wear your hair down more often. I don’t like the ponytail you usually wear.” his tone of voice was simple. He was asking her anything, it wasn’t a request. She knew all too well.

“Yeah? You think?” the sound of her voice was almost giddy in contrast with his. Because she was not able to remain calm or hide emotions like he was. He hums in approval, nodding his head which makes her turn. “You look a lot prettier like that. Don’t you agree?” His words roll off his tongue so easily. He’s so used to such manipulation. His fingers run gently through her hair, letting it fall over her shoulders. It was the first time he had been so intimate, so physical. Not once had you been close like this since you got married.

She was snapped out of her daydream when she suddenly noticed all of her surrounding. The single wine glass, the empty bottle, the burnt cigar. Oh, but how could she have been so stupid? This could never be her reality. She tries to turn to him, but he grabs her jaw to turn her face back forward. He’d be damned if she saw the change in his pants from having her in this position. “Continue facing forwards” he demands, forcefully continuing.

But she moves out of his grip instead, turning to him despite his protest. She didn’t notice what he was desperately trying to hide, so focused on other things. “Are you drunk?”

Wow, she really has no control over that mouth of hers. And he can’t help but scoff at her bluntness. “Not too much, i had a couple of drinks” he admits easily. He was as good at hiding his emotions at hiding how truly wasted he was. His tolerance was a lot higher than hers, but he had truly outdone himself.

“You are…you’re just drunk” she mutters, getting up from her spot. The way his eyes narrow, his lips tense and his brows move together she knew she made a mistake. With a tug at her wrist she’s sat back down.

“Don’t act all precious now” he hisses, forcing her to sit back down on his lap. “You don’t actually mind, do you?” he asks, his tone nearly condescending. It made her head spin.

And they both knew what her answer would be. She craved the attention after all. His hand slides up her thigh, he’s so close she can smell the red.

“I don’t mind” she basically whispers, looking back at him desperately. So desperate for him to give in. His lips press against her neck, his hand going to where she craved him most.

They both got what they wanted.

A/N: this was scheduled to be uploaded FRIDAY. it never did. anyways. better late than never right? here is the desperately requested pt2 for cherry. i hope you all enjoy it as much as u did pt1. let me know if you did. thank you all for your support lovies. love Florence x.

[selencgraphy]

— 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐔𝐀𝐆𝐄𝐒

prompt drabble series - nonverbal ways to say ‘i love you’

16 - sending them photo updates of what you’re doing

prompts from promptingyou

PAIRING: insomniac!peter parker x gn!baker!reader

TAGS: peter’s pov, fluff, idiots in love, pre spider-man 1 (essentially fisk hasn’t been taken down yet and all the sad shit that followed soon after), reader knows pete is spidey, matt murdock mention (sort of?)

A/N: honestly any version of peter works too but i’ve fixated back onto the games so insomniac!peter was who i envisioned while writing this. i also apparently don’t know what other trope to write besides established relationships or idiots in love… anyways, happy reading <3 

WORD COUNT: 551

masterlist || request box <3

“Working on it, Yuri! Call you when I’m done,” he managed to get out as he fought Fisk’s goons. It was hard enough fighting off bad guys that seemed to never end, but to have someone in his ear telling him to hurry up when he was working as fast as he could got infuriating at a certain point.

As he webbed up someone to the wall, he rolled his neck and groaned. “Don’t you guys have anything better to do?” Just as he sent a goon flying upwards, his mask’s UI lit up.

Incoming Message: Y/N 💖

Immediately after, a photo flashed. It was a picture of the cake you made for a kid’s birthday party—a Spider-Man themed birthday party. It was round and had red and blue fondant with black piping to imitate the webs across his suit. At the very center was his white logo and a tiny sign wishing the kid a happy birthday.

Peter smiled at the sight but was immediately interrupted by his spider sense, causing him to jump up as he dodged gunfire. Before long, all the bad guys were webbed up, their weapons thrown far, far away from their reach. Swinging away, he looked for a good place to stop to send you a message back. As he flipped through the air, he realized what building he was near. Bingo.

Running up the side of the building, a smile returned to his face in anticipation. As soon as he was perched up at the very top of the building, he carefully took out his phone and posed. Satisfied with the way it turned out, he hit send and waited for a response. He didn’t have to wait long.

Y/N 💖: 😨 how you can get up that high amazes me Y/N 💖: be safe love u ❤️

Your message made his heart warm. If he wasn’t at the top of the Empire State building and his mask wasn’t on, the entirety of New York City would see how red his face got.

In a lovesick haze, he leaned back, letting gravity pull him back down to earth but even then, he felt like he was in heaven. You were only his best friend, but Pete had been in love with you since you two met. Of course, he was too shy to say anything in fear of losing you completely. Swinging through the streets, he eventually made it to where your little bakery was set up in Hell’s Kitchen.

“Spider-Man,” you greeted, your eyes softening at the sight of him. “And what brings our Friendly Neighborhood hero to my neck of town?” Your voice was soft as you spoke but backed with a teasing tone.

“Just making sure no one’s messing with my favorite baker,” he grinned.

“Don’t worry, I know there’s a pretty good lawyer down the block if I’m ever in a pickle,” you bantered.

His chest filled with joy at the mere sight of you. And that smile. He’d die happy knowing he was the one who put it there. At the sounds of police sirens, you both turned your heads in the direction they came from. “Looks like you’re needed elsewhere, Spidey.”

“See you around,” he beamed, cheerfully saluting before shooting a web and swinging off.

[queenendless]

🔞 Specialz (Adult!SatoSugu x Adult!Fem!Reader)🔞

A/N: Yeah ... I might be writing more Shibuya inspired smut than I thought. KINDA canon divergence cause in this AU Gojo can heal others too so sorry for the confusion, BIG TIME!

LONG ASS FIC, OVER 7K LONG, MY LONGEST ONE YET OH LORD! ALL FOR THESE TWO SO THERE!

⚠️ CW WARNING ⚠️ NSFW CONTENT! Porn with long ass plot, murder/bloodshed, somewhat feral Gojo, sorta exhibitionism/definite vouyerism, choking kink, tentacle action, deepthroat fuck, breeding/claiming kinks, unprotected sex, clit play, creampie, p in a and v, double p in v, nicknames/pet names, some dirty talk, praise talk, GoGe simping, horny SatoSugu x reader in already established polyamorous MMF relationship. This smut piece is gonna be as horny as I can make it. SO MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

* Please DON'T plagarize, translate, or repost my FANFIC content. Reblog, like, and follow instead.

I hope you enjoy.

Credit to anaemicc on Wattpad for the new smut terminology Imma gonna use as reference help when writing 🔞 content from now on.

The setting is Shibuya on Halloween night. Crimson tainting the skies, the cityscape, your thighs ... The AU where Geto is alive, he and Gojo are secret lovers, and are yours, banging you for the entire city to see amiss the chaos that unfolds ...

"Hey you." The sudden warped appearance of you alarmed Jogo, peeved off Choso and stirred up Gojo's sudden carnal longing. "You're wanted elsewhere. So," Your unsure drawl was cut off by Choso's poisonous blood shots narrowly scraping you, swirling through the air, as bodies got caught in the crossfire dropping by the hat. "Eyes on me."

Though that made it hard to divide your attention as you felt so turned on by the gleeful smiling face of one Satoru Gojo that ripped that special grade's veiny arm clean off right between his legs so provocatively.

"Oya oya~" Gojo's eyes widened at the sight of your lithe self; foolishly valiant in the face of death. "I felt you coming a mile away, sweetie~ Sliding in after me, alright~"

"Less innuendo, more exorcizing!" Your cursed energy pushed as many normes outta the way as you could to leave you more room to work to draw that Death Painting in.

Stopping use of his Limitless technique, Gojo gave up on adjusting his technique and focused on compact attacks using curse energy manipulation, operating with only basic cursed energy manipulation and martial arts.

Unable to use Domain Amplification and their Innate Techniques at the same time, Volcano – Jogo – safely uses the former to protect himself unlike Hanami – Weeds.

Foolishly dropping their Domain Amplification just to use their vines to strike at you two compelled you to force push the panicking crowd afar, barely swerving out of range. You're left breathless at a crazed smiling Gojo spinning like a starfish through those vines, eerily giddy as he ripped out those rooted eyes, feeling weak in the knees at imagining Toru asking your greatest weak spot with that look, in that tone…

Your distracted self sensed too late as you were caught in iron, lean arms, eyes glowing dangerously and narrowed possessively.

"Careful, babe~ You want to get hurt that bad, huh~?" The low, dark tone he took with you as his barrier shield you two from the poisoned blood shed coating it, scoffing under his breath. "Where the fuck is he?"

The lights flickered as Volcano and Weeds tried their Amplification fists once more, spurring Gojo to maintain his technique the more they tried neutralizing it.

"Just be careful …" Gojo sounded so far off, trained onto those special grades, reluctantly releasing you. Now was not the time for further discussion. The plan had to keep going, as should you. "Now."

Barely a moment of you warping out of Limitless, did Choso's hands teeming with cursed energy etched straight close to your glowing eyed face. Just where you wanted him.

You sensed another familiar presence down the other end of the tunnel behind him as your cursed energy wave knocked him back enough in the right spot.

"About time." Gojo smacked his tongue under his breath, smirking regardless, relieved at sensing him as well, of course.

"Prison Realm … gate open."

Tentacles slithered out from the shadows beneath Choso's feet, summoned to immobilize him with their tensile grip, just enough time for the gate to unravel in its bleedy X shape. Just as your cursed punch socked him in the face for good measure.

"Nice right hook, honey~" Suguru's rich airy voice was all you could make out to be him since the lights flickered once again.

Choso's lack of combat experience paired with the task of not causing too much carnage did not make things easier. For every limb Choso erodes away from his cursed bloody touch, ten more take their place. The exploding sprays of piercing blood struck down many lingering fools still unable to see the full picture.

"I'm sorry I can't save everyone. So I promise to exorcise them instead!" Both thoughts raced through yours and Gojo's mind.

Your cursed energized back kick whipped Choso's head sideways, earning a low whistle from Geto. For a human spirit hybrid, Choso could take it. You still felt somewhat bad inside for it, though.

Goosebumps immediately raked up your skin at the sight of how easily Gojo crushed the weakened asparagus between his Limitless and the wall.

Volcano's threat to burn them both alive didn't deter Gojo nor Geto in the slightest.

Just as darkness overtook everything one second, light flickered back on in the next.

Hanami's purple blood splattered the crater dented wall; steam and ash wafted off it, leaving Jogo shitting himself.

"Next one."

God, you got wet hard at that moment, blushing something fierce, wanting Satoru looking at you like that.

One minute was up.

The tentacles vanished in place of the cube latching onto Choso, jutting out of him from various points.

"Good night, Choso Kamo. You are spared … this time. Prison Realm, close." With all cursed energy drained, Choso was swallowed right in, the Prison changing from a red fleshy cube with various open eyes to a solid stone closed eyes cube once more, slamming into the floor with sheer force, and Geto looking down at it with disgust. "His desire to avenge his younger brothers' deaths by Itadori-kun's hands means he won't kill himself trapped inside this until he's freed to see his goal through … still though … wasting my efforts on this hybrid monkey. What a joke."

Geto noticing your attention elsewhere, eyes glowing that cursed blue, floating up onto the platform, alarming those frightened monkeys away as you were lost in your future vision. "None of them deserve my cursed gift the way you do."

"Fuck." Gojo's eerily calm voice barely hid his excitement at how breathtaking you look among the carnage littered ground, twistedly smiling at a fleeing Jogo, "The sooner I exorcise you, the sooner I can pound my angel to oblivion."

Magnetically latching his heels on the metal border and levitating himself upright, he used Limitless to halt thrown humans his way by Jogo as cover. If too many lives were lost here, then there'd be no reason for Gojo to hold back anymore. Jogo was itching too close to you to his liking.

Sooner than scheduled —

"An eight-car train is pulling in. Please wait behind the yellow line. Please do not lean on the platform doors or reach your hands or face past them." The announcement came on, followed by the rocking screeching sight of the eight train cars hailing from Meiji Shrine.

Lost in the sea of costumed people running for their believed way out of this mayhem, appalled gasps stirred the crowd bustling around the opening train doors as panic and disgust raced through Jogo at the eight car train filled with gutted, bleeding, dead transfigured humans falling out. And no Patchface in sight.

"Mahito – GRK!" Garbling Jogo got grabbed by the neck in his lapse of focus, slammed into the floor, leaving a crater sized dent in the wake.

"Hands off my woman." Gojo hissed venomously.

"That all went faster than expected." After spraying himself insistently to get rid of the monkey stench, Geto picked up the cube and slipped into the back of the station amidst the chaos.

The root covered exit crumpled apart with Hanami now exorcised, causing dozens upon hundreds of people to fall in. Gojo growled, suspecting more cursed spirits or users are above too.

"I'm on it!" Brazenly catching as many falling normies through the caving ceiling as you could brought faint smiles to both their faces.

Looking back to lock eyes with Satoru once more, Suguru slid the cube to him along the floor, his nihilistic smile being the last thing Gojo saw before warping away himself.

Just as three swift blurs came straight outta the train door, helping you catch every other falling figure, bouncing off the debris chunks like springs alongside you.

Recognizing their cursed energy presences, Gojo cackled with mad glee.

"Game over." Slamming Jogo hard enough into the ground, blue flames licked the air as they enveloped Jogo whole. "I win."

Eroding to ashes, Gojo's form sagged down in relief as the fear felt in the room washed away by confusion and relief. Spotting Yuji and Mei instructing the masses left standing to leave via the stairways as Ui stands proudly by his very much older sister's side, including that the proper authorities would tend to them outside. Scooping up the cube, he floated back up to even level.

"Gojo-sensei!" Yuji's cheeriness lightened the bloody setting, running over.

"The veils have all been lifted. Which made exorcizing the special grade responsible for the transfigured humans attainable. Itadori-kun made sure of that." Mei informed him, making Yuji blush from the praise. "Y/n-chan's seer intel was spot on. Truly a valuable asset~" Mei Mei praised you as well.

"I expect nothing less from her~" Gojo's senses – coming down from his looney high – sensed your presence having teleported farther up. On the highest floor. Oh, sweetie, why?

"Hey! Thank Nee-sama for her compliments, you tall oaf!" Ui bristled up.

"So, Gojo-kun, you owe me for today. Cause I'm guessing … Geto-kun will no longer be helping out around here?" Her coy smile paired with that velvety threat didn't deter Gojo facially. But left Yuji as the dumbfounded cutie at the moment.

"Hmm." Pulling his phone out of his jacket pocket, he meddled with it. "Well, with the veils dropped, I'm finally able to make a hefty deposit in your account." The ping on Mei's own phone plus the wide ass smile on her laughing face spoke volumes. "Yuki and Yuta will be stopping by soon. When they do, hand them this." Airily stating, Gojo tossed the cube for Mei to catch, who recognized it right away. "She has her own plans for that hybrid pup, anyway, so …"

Mei hummed pleased with the conspiratory talk, accepting the curse wrapped cube. "The Prison Realm huh? What are you all up to, I wonder?" He didn't look up for further discussion on the topic. She could keep her lips sealed, for however long she gets paid big at least. "Very well. Thank you for the extra pay, Gojo-kun~"

Seeing his student praying on the sidelines for the human lives lost tonight made melancholy stir within him. "Yuji." Grabbing his attention, ruffling his pink hair affectionately, Gojo's endearing smile had Yuji blushing. "Great work."

"Sensei …" Blinking back tears, brushing them away with his sleeve, Yuji nodded firmly. Mahito was exorcised. The lives lost because of him – Junpei – were at last avenged. "I didn't lose this time."

"Good. I'll leave the rest of the cursed spirit clean up to you all … unless the end of the world comes crashing down on us, that is. If not, I'll see you back at campus tomorrow, my precious pupil~" He chuckled as he ruffled Yuji's hair once more. "Until then, gotta jet~!"

His two finger salute and bright smile was the last sight those three saw before teleporting.

Joining his special two souls awaiting him uptop, sky high.

❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞

Two badasses with God complexes.

Conflicting ideals.

Enemies on paper.

But partners nonetheless.

Quelling this near nationwide disaster by a fragile truce to team up and take down those special grades.

All because of you; your cursed Seer self.

Many lives were still lost.

But better that than tipping the scales into full blown chaos.

A pounding headache, for instance. Which made warping that much harder on your head and neck, to be honest. Wobbly walking, vision blurry, now blinding as the Shibuya night lights sparkled through the glass stained border walls of the observatory deck, draping an arm across your stinging eyes as your other hand leaned on the wall for support.

"Where do you think you're going, sweetheart?" Gojo's slow horror slasher walk upon you was twice as nerve wracking as watching it unfold on Volcano head. That plus sexy. "Nearly getting yourself killed. Butting in when I could handle it all myself. Then trying to slip out?" He sighed heavily, vibrant eyes narrowed like a predator. "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Correction." The nihilistic smiling presence of Geto walking out of the shadows behind one of the few supporting metal pillars had your heart jolting in anxious excitement. "What are we gonna to do to you?"

Your hand slipped as your knees buckled, going limp, as your world view tilted, when Satoru caught you from behind, gently helping you sit down; to both their concern and relief.

"Hey hey, easy." Satoru gently laid your head in his lap as he sat Indian-style against the wall, brushing aside your hair strands tickling your face, his fingers massaging your cranium and scalp. "You pushed yourself hard tonight, sweetie."

"For weeks, actually. Just take slow calm breaths." Pulling your legs gently to straddle his hips as he sat curled up before you two, Suguru massaged your thighs, eyeing you with such prideful devotion. "You did great, honey."

Satoru hummed in agreement. "We're so proud of you~"

"Don't mention it." You went limp in their grasp, desiring to stay this way in your own share of Infinity.

"Still though," Satoru's shaky tone made your breath hitch at that same feral edge from before return; gaping to his sinuous intentions. "After the hell we went through tonight … I just want to take you here and now and make you a mess myself~"

"He's not the only one~" Suguru's own supine gaze had your chest tighten in nervous anticipation. "After all the hassle we were put through tonight, we deserve our own reward. Sparing those monkeys required such restraint on my part, after all. You already understand what we seek the most now."

You squirmed, clasping your hands together in a praying plea. "GoGe foreplay first … please~?"

Suguru snorted, slyly smirking at you, holding your hands in his giant sculpted ones, smooching your knuckles. "Hmm, should we give the lovely lady what she wants, Satoru~?"

Satoru sighed heavily, smiling smugly, dipping down to kiss your forehead. "At this point, why not~? Besides," Roughly grabbing him by the bun, Satoru yanked him forward hard enough to clash sloppy smooches with. "I've missed my Suguru~"

You shifted between their two leaning bodies, eyeballing as Satoru's other hand clutched and squeezed Suguru's neck; veins flexing out on said hand and neck. Drool slipped down the corner of Geto's mouth, raspy grunts leaving his rosy flush face, as their velvet slobbering tongue duel dragged on. It was quite enticing to your GoGe starved eyes. "Hah, I see this still gets you going~ Depraved of my suffocating touch crushing you~" Gojo playfully taunted.

Geto husked out some dry laughs, "You crave it too~ Breaking me in, like the raunchy bastard I can see coming out of you~!"

A welt of anger pulsed the side of Gojo's head, startling you as he shifted his weight against Geto's, quickly slamming him against the glass wall beside you by the neck, "How's this for you then~?"

"Hah~! Perfect~!" Geto's raspy laugh was cut off as Gojo devoured his wet mouth whole, their deep groans of lust slipping out between every parting of their lips, drool connecting their tongues as their heaving mouths were so close to each other. Eyes half lidded with smoldering fixation on each other atop such heightened emotions looked to be borderline dangerous. "Tell me, Satoru~ Do you still miss this~?"

From the inky shadows Geto summoned, the tentacles returned, wrapping around Gojo's wrists to free Geto and let him breathe; red prints left on his thick veiny neck, gleefully smiling as the snowy haired man fell to his knees with his hands restrained behind his back. As more tendrils helped undo his gold colored kasaya garment, his black yukata robes came next as the skin of his broad upper body was revealed; damn muscles. The sash now untied, his length was freed, flapping against Gojo's curling lips.

"Getting impatient, aren't we Suguru~?"

"You are too, smart ass~"

"Mmh, you're not wrong~" Missing that taste he always relishes, Gojo hummed as he took Geto all in one go, slathering that pulsing dick with as much fervor as the starving beast coming out inside him that needed sustenance.

"Aah fuck~! Yes, Satoru~! Just like that~!" Suguru's chants of praise went in sync with his lecherous moans as he raked his hand through those snowy locks to press him closer, his little bun fell loosely unkempt from his insistent thrusting, slamming himself against the wall with each bang echoing off the see through borders. "Take me, Satoru~! Take it all~!"

Satoru's insatiable slurping paired with his thorough tongue lashing and gluttonous sucking accentuated Suguru's echoes; his nose buried deep in those raven colored pubes.

A sneaky appendage slithered beneath Gojo's slim tight pants, then under his boxer shorts. Lurching from the slimy firm hold stroking his own hardened length mercilessly, Gojo's deep groans vibrated through Geto's dong, driving his moans higher and louder than before. Rubbing his head with its wet end, sliding down to brush his balls, it all had Gojo's legs trembling as he instinctively grinded against Geto's beating heat. "Sneaky bastard~!" Satoru's muffled words were overshadowed by the titillated mewls mushing out of his stuffed mouth as well.

"Ah~!"

"Mh~!"

"Ngh~!"

Lathered in the cum slipping down both sides of his mouth and chin, Satoru's deepthroating by Suguru's slamming thrusts paired in tuned with those insistent rough strokes on his girth finally had them coming undone in unison; their verbal and muffled cries of release had your eyes bulging out of their sockets.

Pressing your trembling fist to your lips, you marveled at their flushed expressions and enamored noises, leaving you elated at making you come just from watching their pleasure together. And yet, it wasn't enough. Not until you felt those two interwoven with you. You were long overdue.

Your muffled cry of coming reminded those two you were still here, curled up against yourself, eyes glossed, lost in them coming down from their highs.

"Satoru~ It appears our dear Y/n has been by her lonesome long enough~" Dumping his heavy load for the latter to swallow greedily, Suguru retracted those tentacles out from Satoru's now ruffly tainted pants, freeing his bound arms as well, sending that particular curse back into the shadows, watching you with mischievous glee, knowing you in this state would prefer their touch than an octopuses.

Satoru's breathtaking blue eyes were now in your line of sight, heaving heavily with that rosy tinted face, sending droves of butterflies storming your insides. His feral mindstate was returning, being stoked higher, sharing Suguru's sentiments entirely. "Then, what say I plow that pretty mouth of hers myself?" Satoru's languid tone conflicted with his hungry gaze.

"So long as I can devour that finely plump ass~" Suguru purred, mischievously grinning.

"Deal."

Nothing compared to the white hot scorching of your lovers' tongues as Satoru legit crawled over to you, backpedaling you to be flushed against the opposite wall, openly kissing you to submission, your fingers raking through his white undercut then into his fluffy hair had him sighing in comforting bliss. Your eye peaked open, spotting Suguru kissing you from your neck to your jawline until eventually tempting you to pull away from Satoru's lips just to kiss him instead, despite Satoru's pouting at missing your lips already.

"Are you both good? We are risking getting caught together …" You couldn't help it.

Their hearts throbbed for your worrywart self.

Satoru couldn't help but laugh. "Even now, you're still worried about us?"

Suguru chuckled. "We appreciate your concern for us, Y/n, but we're fine."

"More than ever, in fact. And right now, all I want is to gaze upon you. No covers. No restraints." Satoru, taking your hand in his, pressed kisses to your knuckles. "The way it should be~"

You hummed as Suguru took your other hand in his as he pressed it to his cheek, nuzzling your palm then kissing it. "Just the three of us."

You weaved your hands through their locks at the back of their heads, pressing their foreheads against yours, hugging them around their necks, getting teary eyed from the swell of emotions coming forth. "I need you so much closer … both of you."

Tilting your chin upwards between his forefinger and thumb gave more room for Suguru to clamp his teeth deep into your neck, gnawing long and hard enough in various spots to leave those red marks in his wake. "Goddess incarnate, you truly are~"

Sucking and licking from your ear down to the valley between your bosoms, Satoru smugly grinned up at you. "How did demons like us get gifted with such a naughty little angel~?"

With combined feral impatience, they tore open your dark jujutsu jacket, stripping your gasping self of your undershirt as well, smirking as they ripped your bra clasp apart, before devouring a mound for each to take.

"Toru~! Sugu~!" Your wanton cries made them that much harder, your fingers tugging harshly at their hair, as you surrendered to their mouths.

Suguru flicked your one rosy tipped mound, pinching and twisting it between his lithe long digits to his enjoyment at its jigglingness. "Neh … Satoru? Shall we finally claim this sinfully beautiful lady for ourselves?"

Satoru lashed your other swelling hill with feverish hardness, teething your bud as well as suckling it messily in between, before deeply chuckling. "From the look on her face, I'd say so."

He wasn't wrong.

Grabbing you by your hips, ripping the button off your work pants, sliding your panties down with them as well, they both breathed in your long missed bare beauty and your sought out essence.

Satoru's slim-fit matching black pants were shoved down those long fine legs, along with those soiled briefs, freeing himself at last. Suguru's high waisted poofy pants came down too, more erect and thick than before. In their own mind reading way, they knew what they wanted.

"Hug my neck, Y/n. And hold on tight." Satoru commandingly whispered in your ear. Just as you did as instructed, he lifted you up by your hips just as Suguru grabbed you by your knees, both carrying you with iron clad grips, both standing up with such ease. The strongest duo, people.

Stunned from the swift change in position, your hanging self suddenly rolled your eyes back as your body swayed from the tingling pilfering their already coated dongs evoked as they slid into you with familiarity. The flash of pain from the swift plunge made you shout loudly only to moan even harder as they lit the fire in you.

"Aah~! Hah~! Aghn~! Uhh~!" Your incoherent babbling only got them going, stroking their innuendos.

SQUELCH!

Suguru slamming you so hard from behind, drunk on how exhilarating you felt intertwined. "Mmph! Such a – mgh! – tight squeeze you are~!"

FWOP!

Satoru pounding into you excessively, his feral side coming back with a vengeance, shaking from sparks raking his nerves from your inner dripping heat sucking him up just as greedily. "That's it, Y/n~! Take it all~!"

THRUST!

Cum trickled down from all over, trailing down both men's legs and your flesh, forming puddles on the floor at how much was coming out.

The flaps of skin against skin, the gushing squished, the night lights of Shibuya highlighting all your curves, spasms, shuddering, the sweat lining your forms, your gaping sleek mouths, your muscles contracting and clenching.

You deeply missed this.

Intoxicated by their unadulterated need for your indulgence, your arching back, your bouncy breasts throbbing from each thrust, your lissom face, it was all – !

"Fuck, your cunt is heaven~!" Satoru keened hornfully, crushing his sloppy lips into yours, eating up all your mewls.

"Shit, your ass is bliss~!" Suguru raggedly moaned as you clenched around him, slipping in and out ravenously, bringing his face down to chew on your supple peaches.

The cacophony of your trio's profane shouts of ecstasy reverberated around you, eyeing the nightlife beyond the walls, wondering amiss the chaos in your mind if the others were alright. You could feel the number of cursed spirits dwindling, your allies spirits still intact, and the euphoria drowning away the headache your visions always gave.

Time slowed down as you felt Suguru's sweaty face pressing your lower back and Satoru's own against your own, both stopping as they heatedly caught their breaths, exchanging nervous but curious gazes, before Satoru looked into your eyes with his serious ones. "Y/n … will you let us … start a family with you?"

Your heart squeezed as they slowly lowered you back on the stained ground, humming as Suguru expressed the same intentions, having you straddling his lap from behind, angling your face to see his charming one again resting on your shoulder. "Being apart after all this time has made us consider what we now desire going forward."

"Granted, 10 days is just too much separation, if I'm gonna be honest!" Satoru griped, nuzzling your unoccupied cheek, smiling warmly. "And yeah, raising Megumi and Tsumiki together over the years has been quite the adventure."

"The same goes for Mimiko and Nanako … but they particularly want a baby sibling to dote on and spoil endlessly." Suguru softly laughed.

"Granted, I too would spoil that kid … our kid … to be honest, raising a kid in our kind of world is difficult, especially if they become a sorcerer, inherit our techniques, and be seen as another cursed pawn to use for society's personal gains … unless we destroy the corrupt system first." Satoru's straightforwardness had truth to your current realistic problem.

"This past year has been challenging for all of us. And I believe our secret partnership is not so secret after tonight. But if we do decide to have a kid, then we'll defend them until our last dying breaths." Suguru vowed, squeezing your hand in his giant sculpted one to your smiling delight.

"But only with you. And only if you want to." Satoru sheepishly chuckled. "Even though my dick is literally up your womb now."

"Baka." Suguru scoffed under his breath.

Your hands took each of theirs to cup your now stuffed belly together; Satoru's cock still inside. "I'll only ever bear one … with you two."

You were willing to do it. You yearned for it. Lord, the thought of bearing a child you three created together brought tears to your eyes. "So yeah. Let's do it."

Pulling out of you on both ends to make this work, Satoru stripped off his high collared jacket to ball into a makeshift pillow and Suguru slipped out of his monk robes for you to splay your bare back on, they made sure you were comfy enough to further progress as they gently laid you down on your temporary bedding. "Thanks~" You whispered your gratitude, earning big moist smooches on your honey soft cheeks from them.

Lustful possessive looks now sprouting on their faces, Satoru draping your left leg over his left hip and Suguru doing the same to your right leg over his right hip, each then taking a hand of yours to pin them both above your head; intertwined fingers and all, before guiding their veiny soaking thickness in their spare hands to gently, carefully, simultaneously sliding them into your achingly drenched folds. Your breathless urgent gasps came quickly, them being tolerable enough to give you time to adjust at being double stuffed.

After pulling in a lungful of air, you whispered. "K - Keep going."

Rolling their hips in sync, they completely domineered you in all your good spots, their upper ripped bodies flexing to your inner delight as they heaved in and out, gritting out groans through their teeth with you convulsing around them obsessively.

Blood buzzed in your ears whereas theirs were roaring at how much your moans enlivened them.

Their lean statures bending over just to suckle and smooch your face and neck, leaving red blemishes and bite marks in their wake. Your back curving in order to press your fuzzy nude self to theirs for their comfortable safe warmth.

Your throbbing breasts were brazenly exposed by their groping, thumbing and pinching with those long lithe fingers before their mouths swallowed your swelling melons; one for each to partake on. Their steamy breaths, savage canines, and skillful tongues combined with their jutting taking things up a notch had your toes curling and your legs squeezing their waistlines desperately when you saw it.

Your reflections on the smooth ceiling. Your flamed face, their ruffled heads devouring your boobs, cum slathering your clit as more splattered on your abdomen.

The thrill of seeing you all in your primal states made you howl sharper.

"None are worthy to bask in your raw majesty but us~" Suguru dictated selfishly, drooling popping off your breast, noticing your gaze training upwards before his veiny hand grasped your chin, forcing you to meet his depraved smile. "Devoted to only us~!"

"This cunt, this body, everything that you are!" Satoru's deepened husky voice going with each savage pounding had you gushing out more messily as he looked up from your other abused tit with narrowed eyes, shadowed with the thrill of his feral edge. "Ours."

Shedding hotly shimmering tears from the rippling explosions edging you closer, all you could do was writhe and spasm in delectable anguish as their pelvises tapped you like wrecking balls; delving straight for your womb, with your cunt throbbing at how much you missed this. Them. Smothering you in your own ripple of heaven.

The springs were coiling as you were all etching closer to the edge. Static sparked their fingertips when Suguru began gently squeezing and choking you, earning him your gasping heaving mouth with your tongue sticking out to his wry amusement. "Now then honey~ Come for us long and hard~ Your loving Sugu wants it~!"

Trails of fire forming from Satoru aggressively rubbing your clit had you chortling out such adorably profane mewls. "Your precious little self can't take much more of this, sweetie~ I can feel it~ Just let yourself burst free~!"

Suguru's thumb brushed your quivering bottom lip. "Let us bless you with our essence, our very souls~"

Satoru endearingly kissed your bump for good measure. "Let us put the most precious baby in that perfect little oven of yours~"

"Bear our child, Y/n~"

"Turn this cursed night to the most blessed one yet~"

Their squeezing hands on yours had you clawing at their veiny knuckles.

"No one else but you is worthy enough~"

"You were made for us~ You kept us together for all these years~ It has to be you~"

"Our closest friend, our wife, our ray of heaven~"

Your eyes widened as their free hands left your slightly marked neck and reddened clit to lay their hands atop another's over your accelerated heart, smiling with tears in their eyes at the overwhelming sexual amour, confessing with such emotion as the strongest duo that they are.

"I love you."

Their intimate, amorous words thickened with such raw truth did the trick.

The sensation of total release brought about a dizzying explosion of feeling, leaving you shuddering uncontrollably as you reached your glorious peak.

That broke down their floodgates.

Crying your name out in unison, they once again soared over the edge, but dumping a heavy truck load this time. Curling in on you, they flooded themselves inside you, they poured their dumploads of steaming white hotness in every crevice, fold and bundle you held, sloppily pounding into you for good measure to ride that high.

Their conjoined seeds have finally hit their mark.

All you could do was take it all in, heaving and crying softly at how their friction, their hardness, even their engorged heads felt too good inside you to be real.

But it all was.

This nasty, unhinged, embarrassing – yet provocatively arousing time spent on Halloween night.

With these two powerful, terrifying, sometimes unhinged men that have softer, gentler, tender sides to them.

Endlessly devoted, unconditional and all encompassing.

With each other.

And you, of course.

❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞❤️🔞

Over a decade spent cultivating.

Keeping it hush hush, as those two were on opposing sides, but still kept in touch because of you.

Trying to rebel against the system and make way for the next generation of sorcerers to change this kind of world into a better one takes work. Resources. Allies.

Ergo, you departing Jujutsu High post graduation to aid Yuki Tsukumo in her mission, guided by your visions and your own heart's ambitions to end the cursed energy problem; the root cause of this fractured world.

From your prophetic visions starting in your student days to realizing your two loves parting ways, you divulge your hidden truths to them. Wanting you three to stay united. Acting as double agents in a sense. Better than being forced to take each other out in this long marathon game.

Some convincing and persuading lead to an eventual struck deal. Partners slash secret lovers, regardless of their switched conflicting ideals and surface level allegiances. While neither were thrilled at you collaborating with Yuki; her playing her own part in dividing the fine line between them to their somewhat breakup, they knew you were overall fighting to change things your way just as they were doing the same but the way they individually were best at.

Dropping in on them back and forth, from Suguru's temple of a home to Satoru's private housing to even your own apartment when you were in Tokyo, your desire for you three to maintain your bond stayed strong.

Planned secret meetups, play dates where those two talked in private but watched with affection from afar as you get overwhelmed by those four precious rugrats, late night call sessions that lasted until the sun rose, roundabout impromptu rendezvous in each other's bedrooms …

Eventually, those years became 10.

The kids grew up. As did you three.

But with time came change. Good and bad. For you sensed the divide lingering beneath the surface growing to uncomfortable lengths.

When you had that vision whilst traveling abroad with Yuki doing research.

Of that December night.

The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons.

As Yuuta Okkotsu nearly killed Suguru.

And Satoru was tasked with executing him.

But willingly spared him as you arrived, their stunned faces on par with your eyes glowing and tears trekking down your face, as you tearfully embraced your one armed lover, begging for Satoru to heal him, offering Suguru refuge, for you no longer desired them fighting each other anymore.

Proclaiming that if they ever loved you at all, that you'd all marry each other straight away.

After a stunned faces pause from them both, immediately in came some touch deprived, molten kisses from both your men then watching them exchange some as well, Satoru restored Suguru's arm and promised to rendezvous with you as soon as he could, knowing he had his students to check up on. And Suguru had to pick up his girls as you helped walk him out of the wrecked school grounds as best you could.

While you have been dating for a decade, the idea of marriage popping up various times never came to fruition. Knowing your taboo relationship meant treason for Satoru and execution for them both if found caught.

But that near death experience, the second one, made you all reconsider how short your lives were and how certain precious things shouldn't be taken for granted, especially in this cursed world. You couldn't bear it. And neither could they. The look of heartbreak on your face was one neither desired to be the cause of.

Meeting up in Okinawa, among the snow covered flowers, in loving memory of Riko and Kuroi, internally apologizing for failing them to save them both when your vision came too late and you were too far away and not strong enough to aid them and your loves the most, hoping they and your dear friends back at Jujutsu High were both there in spirit, watching over you all and granting their blessing.

On Christmas Day, arriving well into the afternoon, with an awkward faced, gray suited Megumi and an optimistic Tsumiki in a floral lace bodice ruffle trim wrap hem chiffon formal gown in baby pink. Smack dabbed in between the siblings, Satoru Gojo was well suited up in his tux; hair down and shades on.

As was Suguru Geto, his hair now cut to grace up to his shoulders, right arm intact, in a matching tux, with the twins coordinating with Tsumiki on the plane ride over; Mimiko in a similar dress in navy blue and Nanako in a matching one but in burnt orange.

The impromptu modern-day elopement went underway in the chapel overlooking the snowy garden.

Thankfully, the twins helped score you an Ariel dress; a romantic cloud of matt organza, with a removable balloon skirt and sleeves, and a subtle black chiffon ribbon.

Your chaotic duo were awestruck, jaws slacked and eyes radiating with unbridled love.

Your four kids beaming with supportive glee at how you; their mother practically at that point, walked down that aisle like an angel descending down from the heavens. The girls giggling as you gave a flustered Megumi your bouquet.

Your hands grasping one of each from them as you began the small private ceremony.

Astonished and amazed that Satoru, having memorized both yours and Suguru's ring sizes, had purchased them as soon as they landed.

Improvising your vows on the spot, you three merely spoke from the heart.

The rest of the week was spent touring Okinawa, the guys treating your kids to all the joys this place gave to them and their long passed friends they consider as family too, making sure they were all conked out before your husbands treated you in your shared newlyweds suite and made sure to remind you just how much they both missed, cherished and adored you.

The rest of the year spent looking back on the hectic events leading up to that moment, as fireworks flashed throughout the night sky, the girls and Satoru cheering for the new year, Megumi and Suguru exasperated but smiling nonetheless, and you relishing being snug in between your embracing loves.

The congratulatory calls over Satoru's phone from Shoko and Nanami teemed with suspicion and reluctance whereas Haibara was over the moon for it. Even Yuki called you and gushed over your dramatic lovely momentum. All of them seemingly suspecting Suguru had survived but choosing to keep shut about it along with your kids, to you three's grateful reliefs.

A lot has changed since then.

Satoru letting you, Suguru, and the twins crash at his private home in the countryside where Tsumiki usually stayed with Megumi before he began attending Jujutsu High and staying in the dorms.

Suguru decided to try and start over, becoming the stay at home father of the group while Satoru was working and you were traveling. Still working out and training to still be in the best shape along with his girls, knowing that this new take on life would take time to adjust to as well as work on their hateful outlook on humanity as a whole.

Then a new issue revealed itself.

Particularly… Kenjaku.

Fortunately, your visions have helped you all derail his plans a lot over the past year and several months. But a millennium old cursed user was just part of the problem.

The rise of special grade cursed spirits with self awareness and intelligence was another.

So training Megumi along with Yuji and Nobara made sense to prepare them for what lay ahead. Yuji especially, with the King of Curses taking refuge inside him. But you still cherished them and the second years like your own babies as well.

Your last call with Yuki involved her discovery of the long sought after Prison Realm your vision foretold of as well as its hiding place.

The events of the Shibuya Incident came soon after. The deaths of thousands. As well as who was responsible.

After nearly passing out from the info overload, you made sure to message your husbands on the issue at hand. While apprehending slash rescuing the traitor Kokichi Muta from that Patchface's assault, Satoru saw your visions theories as proven fact with aid from Kokichi's own confessions.

Not willing to take the chance, of course you intervened.

Right before Yuki's sudden visit at your place, dropping the cube in a wary Suguru's grasp, giving him her personal request to capture Choso Kamo alive in the cube, so Satoru's imprisonment in it doesn't come to fruition as your vision unfortunately revealed as well, assuring him she'd stop by to pick it up when the hard work was done, dropping the bomb on him in her own Yuki way.

So Suguru; not fully trusting her, getting involved fell under his own personal agenda to ensure you both would stay alive and unsealed.

Of course Satoru got a text from her to give him a heads up on her and Yuta dropping by soon.

Then came the detailed veils dropping right after you two slipped in behind Satoru.

You know what happened next …

Which all leads to right now.

The walk down memory lane ended with you coming down from your high at last, easing down, relaxing your sore, tingling, fatigued self.

Pulling out their softened dicks in unison, admiring how much of their cum filled your swollen red pussy and stuffed your moistened ass crack; trickling down like tiny streams of thick cream. They released your hands as their heaving selves laid down on either side of you, cushioning you in between. Satoru's snug tee and Suguru's sweaty scarred chest.

"That … was awesome." Satoru breathlessly cheered.

"Our best one yet." Suguru hummed proudly.

"Question. Whose cleaning this mess up?" Your shaky finger pointed at the cum all over the floor.

Both men tiredly cackled, nuzzling your nose and cheeks.

"Eh, let the workers here handle it, sweetheart~ We did help save Halloween, after all!" Satoru mused.

"Besides, we have more important matters to discuss." Suguru pointed out.

"Like?" You panted.

Suguru pushed himself up to gather your discarded clothing. "What shall we name our bundle of joy?"

"Mochi~!"

"No food related names, Satoru." He was deadpan serious.

"I'd rather that than anything outdated or boring! Our kid deserves the best name possible! Unless you want them to be miserably stuck with one for life~?" Satoru prayed that wasn't the case.

"Ahem." Your reaching hand had Satoru pulling you up on your sore bum as Suguru handed back your attire. "I'd rather we put our clothes back on, go home, call it a night, and talk about this in the morning. When I'm not entirely wiped out?"

Satoru started putting back on his jacket, flirting, "Oh our sweet, darling angel, how our world turns to your loveliness~"

Suguru slipped back on his robes and kasaya garment, tying them up tight. "She's right though. We've postponed our departure long enough. The girls are waiting for us back home, after all."

"Work related stuff can be dealt with in the morning." Satoru groaned, stretching his limbs, popping them from stiffness.

"Need help getting up though." You whimpered, fully dressed but too sore to stand up.

"Allow me the honor, our lovely wife~" Suguru swooned, sweeping you up with no struggles.

"Can we squeeze in one spooky film viewing though~?" Satoru pouted, pleading.

"In the living room, with the girls. You handle the snacks, I get the blankets." Suguru suggested.

"Deal." They kissed on it to your giggling relief. "Y/n, you're something special, ya know that~?" Satoru, your husband, pecked your nose.

"Our special wife, soon to be mother of our child." Suguru smooched your forehead.

"Oh, how long will that take, I wonder~? Hehe, our bedroom is gonna get pretty occupied for a while~" Satoru chuckled mischievously.

"Hey." Their eyes looked to yours as you smiled with such smittenness. "I love you both too."

They both kissed either side of your lips, coming together in one drawn out smiling smooch, before Satoru grabbed Suguru's shoulder, allowing you all to teleport on outta there together.

Back home, safe and sound.

For your own special Halloween.

The night is still young, ya know.

[rjzimmerman]

Frontier myth vilified the California grizzly. Science tells a new story. (Washington Post)

The grizzly, a subspecies of brown bear, has long held a place in mainstream American myth as a dangerous, even bloodthirsty creature. Its scientific name, Ursus arctos horribilis, means “the horrible bear.” But that image is being challenged by a new set of studies that combine modern biochemical analysis, historical research and Indigenous knowledge to bring the story of the California grizzly from fiction to fact.

In January, a team of experts led by University of California at Santa Barbara ecologist Alexis Mychajliw published a paper in the Proceedings of the Royal Society B about the diet of the California grizzly bear and how that influenced its extinction. The results challenge virtually every aspect of the bear’s established story.

“Pretty much everything that I thought I knew about these animals turned out to be wrong,” said Peter Alagona, an ecologist and historian at UCSB and co-author of the study.

Much of the grizzly bear’s long-standing narrative comes from stories, artwork and early photographs depicting California grizzlies as huge in size and aggressive in nature. Many of these reports, which found wide readership in newspapers elsewhere in the West and in the cities back East, were written by what Alagona calls the Californian influencers of their time.

“They were trying to get rich and famous by marketing themselves as these icons of the fading frontier,” Alagona said. “A lot of the historical sources that we have about grizzlies are actually not about grizzlies. They’re about this weird Victorian 19th-century celebrity culture.”

The team of ecologists, historians and archivists compared the image of California grizzlies from these frontier reports to harder data in the form of bear bones from museum collections all over the state.

The frontier myth had painted the California bears as larger than grizzlies elsewhere in the country, but the bone analysis revealed that they were the same size and weight, about 6 feet long and 440 pounds for the average adult.

In an even larger blow to the popular story of the vicious grizzly, the bones showed that before 1542, when the first Europeans arrived, the bears were only getting about 10 percent of their diet from preying on land animals. They were primarily herbivores, surviving on a varied diet of acorns, roots, berries, fish and occasionally larger prey such as deer.

As European-style farming and ranching began to dominate the landscape, grizzlies became more like the stories those frontier influencers were telling about them. The percentage of meat in their diet rose to about 25 percent, probably in large part because of the relative ease of catching a fenced-in cow or sheep compared to a wild elk.

Colonialism forced so many changes on the California landscape so quickly, affecting every species that the bears ate and interacted with, that the exact cause of this change will be difficult to ever fully understand.

Still, grizzlies were never as vicious or purely predatory as the stories made them out to be. The narrative of the huge killer bear instead fed a larger settler story of a landscape — and a people — that could not coexist with the settlers themselves. And that story became a disaster for more than just bears.

Although we will never have exact numbers, experts agree that hundreds of thousands of Indigenous people were living in what is now California before White settlers arrived. One frequently cited estimate puts the population at 340,000.

By 1900, that number had been slashed by more than 95 percent to around 16,000 surviving tribal members throughout the state. Eliminating the bear and the vast majority of California’s Indigenous people can be seen as parts of the same concerted effort to replace one landscape — and one set of stories — with another.

“The annihilation of the California grizzly bear was part of a much larger campaign of annihilation,” Alagona said. “I think it’s clear that what happened in California meets the legal definition of a genocide. But in a way, it was even more than that, because these were not just attempts to eliminate groups of people. These were attempts to destroy an entire world.”

[omamorens]

a while back you said something akin to “inkblade college au.. (head full of thoughts)” !! would you be so kind as to open your head and share them? i am begging you on my knees…. spare inkbkade college au.. pls…

dear anon you dont have any idea of the floodgates im about to open but!!! im imagining two main routes for this college au. bear with me with this long answer!!

the ‘met-again at college’ au:

In this version of the events, the Rat Grinders probably broke off to do their own individual thing after finishing junior year and their redemption quests.

Oisin would probably distance himself away from Elmville but still pursue wizarding school elsewhere. Probably at the Bastion City University.

This time, he does it correctly with no cheating.

Though if he was being honestly, still having access to the full benefits from the school of conjuration was probably an unfair advantage.

So he always pushed himself to do harder, to excel beyond expectations. He’s a chronic over-worker and just wants to do things right for once.

Oisin never gets into another adventuring party again and instead studies to be some type of wizard scientist, developing new spells and technology probably.

Adaine, by this time, is already a world-renowned adventurer and top divination wizard of their age, in her own right.

She’s already established somewhat of a mark to history at the young age of 24? 25? probably younger, honestly.

Oisin hears about her from time to time— they do occupy the same wizarding circles and its kind of hard to avoid mention of the Elven Oracle.

But she was a famous figure now, literally beyond reach from a lowly college student like himself.

Imagine his surprise when he sees her walk into his class one day, but not as a student, no.

Adaine was a guest speaker and was about to discuss to them the very interesting topic of the Cosmology of Extraplanar Realms and Studies of Divinities

Oisin blanked out most of it.

Too starstruck from seeing Adaine again and oh… his chest was hurting again, phantom-pains from the shatterstar that never really left his mind.

Or is it?

Before he knew it, the session has ended. He thinks it ended too soon but the topic was actually discussed for two hours.

But his professor has an announcement to make? He stayed back to hear it out.

“Miss Abernant will be conducting research in the university for some time, and she has graciously granted the Wizard Department the opportunity for a student to take up an internship role for the duration of her team’s stay. Interested students may submit a form to me and the decision will be passed to Miss Abernant’s team after careful deliberation. That is all, thank you.”

Oisin has spaced out again, reeling from the thought that their paths would probably cross even more now that she’ll be at BCU indefinitely.

“Mr. Hakinvar? Oisin Hakinvar?” his professor called for him, and he addresses her, snapping out of his thoughts.

“Ms. Abernant, this is the top student of the Wizarding course, Oisin Hakinvar. I would speak highly into considering him for the role…”

Oisin has drowned out the noise again, because Adaine was staring at him, a twinge of familiarity setting in on her features. And of annoyance.

“Oh, I know of him.” she says tersely, “Top student, you say? No unfair advantages to speak of?”

Oisin’s brow twitched at that, answering the question himself, “None at all. I’ll make sure to send in my form for the internship role.”

Because he was prideful more than anything, and the subtle mocking comment made at him was baseless.

Adaine doesn’t know him, not the way that he is right now. Not after he’s pushed himself over and over to prove that he is worthy to be here.

“Very well! I’m sure Miss Abernant will be pleased to review your form.”

“Trust me, I am very good on both paper and practical application.”

Adaine shouldn’t even care for him at all, but she was curious. After Oisin and his adventuring party disappeared off Elmville, she always wondered what they were up to. Maybe more evil plots? Maybe they died somewhere off Spyre? Who knows.

Now she does, and the kindling of curiosity was highly-flammable, the worst of all motivators she could have.

And yet.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” she says to him, like a challenge. Oisin was set on meeting her to it.

This AU is definitely tagged as “Enemies-to-Lovers”, constant bickering and challenging looks, academic rivalry too because thats always nice. Maybe a bit of mystery because I do love the allure of putting them in a dark academia setting.

the ‘they got close during senior year and went to college together’ au:

This one is definitely sweeter and idyllic.

If you’ve ever heard of Sabrina Carpenter’s new song “Please, please, please” this is the general theme; its what Adaine would feel like.

Because in this AU, Adaine finally gives Oisin the chance to date her during college.

They’re always together anyway; with both being wizards pursuing academe, their schools of study interact in much more ways than anticipated.

Lots of cute dates in between classes too!!

Going to the newest cafe to try out their menu.

Amusement park dates!! Museum dates!!!

Bastion City is filled with things to do.

And even when they don’t, just studying together was already a date.

Oisin would always have some part of his body in contact with her.

Maybe his tail wrapped around her calf under the table, his free hand on her knee when they read together side by side, or just letting her lean on to him if she gets too tired to sit upright.

Adaine, on the other hand, was a little more paranoid of their relationship.

Was she just lying in wait for Oisin to fuck up? Hopefully not, but the chances are never zero. And she hates thinking of that, because at some level, she does trust and love Oisin, wholeheartedly.

But the past has always been haunting her in some way or another.

And it’s hard to relax when danger has been everything you knew your whole life.

But Oisin was soft with her, caring and understanding, frankly a little possessive and obsessive, but it was just the healthy amount that makes her want to drag him to bed every night and assure him that she is all his.

And Oisin proves to her that he is all hers.

Just imagine. Domestic Inkblade. never thought i would live to see the day that both words are in the same sentence.

Lots of late night cuddles, of assurances, of future plans togethers.

Unending conversations of “i love you” said in the most unconventional ways.

AND OF COURSE this is college. you cant expect me to think of college au without having Adaine live up to her “Party Wizard” title!!!

Adaine definitely lets loose at parties. She has her friends with her, a loving boyfriend, and her life has never been better.

But god she has the worst alcohol tolerance known to mankind.

Oisin is definitely watching over her, excusing himself from drinking too much just incase Adaine goes wild again.

And oh she does.

Thank god Oisin is there to [i will not elaborate what happens here, but god is it in my head; just guess].

And then she wakes up with a raging headache and Oisin is more than happy to care for her (making her hangover food, massaging her sore spots).

Like I said, domestic. Fluff and comfort and so much healing. LIKE SOOO MUCH. this is the answer to the “we could’ve had it all” tag because in this AU, they have it all.

Good for them… good for them!!

Will I write this? Not anytime soon but God would I kill to read it. Someone… anyone… save me inkblade college au save me…