#and it SHOWS.... your honor i love him so much

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a yandere werewolf, but not just any werewolf… a bounty hunter. And he has it bad for his you. Cowboy Werewolf!

Yandere Shorts: Like I Love You

Yandere werewolf x fem reader

TW: obsession, delusional themes, abo dynamic, horror, gore (mentioned), death of characters, neglectful husband, betrayal, cheating husband, forced relationship, mention of baby trapping, and behavior that should not be romanticized

Rolfe was currently on a hunt… his target is a sickly preacher’s, one that should be easy enough. Her own husband had paid him quite the pretty penny to off her. Poor little lamb didn’t stand a chance in the wilderness of this world. Not when she had enemies close to her side such as an unfaithful husband and a conniving best friend. He almost felt sorry for his prey

He arrived a day later, his clawed fingers dragged through a lock of her hair as he inhaled her scent. She smelled… delicious. And she was so vulnerable too with her nape out that just begged for his teeth to be driven into…

Rolfe shook his head before he went back into a trance when she subconsciously leaned into his touch. His hand moved up and grazed her temple that felt as if it were ablaze. Poor woman had a fever…

“Darling? Did you finally come to me?” Her voice was a bit delirious with sickness as she kissed his hands. Each kiss made him feel as if he was her beloved. It took everything in him not to loudly whine like a dog. “I missed you so much James. I’m sorry I got sick again.”

Rolfe didn’t say a word before he continued to drag his rough palms through her hair. His heart hammered in his chest and his wolf clawed inside his brain to be released. It seemed this woman before him… was his fated mate.”

Rolfe bent down and buried his nose into the crook of her neck to deeply inhaled. Oh yes… this lassy was his for the takin.

Rolfe began to slowly nurse her back to health rather than off her. An action that made his employer question him. Why on earth would a monster nurse such a nuisance back to health? She was always near death’s door. What use was such a delicate woman in the Wild West?

“When are you going to off (your name)? She’s an easy target.”

“I have honor as a bounty hunter. It must be a hunt.” Rolfe snarled at (your name)’s husband, James, the man who dared to keep her sick due to his lack of care. Had that scrawny man have no pride as a man? The pastor made him sick.

“She’s easy to pick off right now. I’d really like this to be over and done with so I can marry Helen. This is why I hired a monster-“ Rolfe picked James up from the ground by his throat as James gasped for air.

“You are a foolish, greedy man. Are you sure you are truly a man of god?” Rolfe growled, showing his fangs. His dark, muscular form largely towered over James’s lithe frame. “You’re a pathetic man.”

Rolfe soon went back to the care of (your name). The werewolf rubbed his cheeks all over her bed and her body to scent her… he needed to get rid of James’s scent. Rolfe wouldn’t let another have her and hurt her again… he’d spirit her away.

Rolfe wondered how many pups she’d want. If they’d be pretty like her but strong like him… if she’d pepper him with nips and kisses everyday. If she’d beg him for his knot on the next full moon as he properly mated her?

“Darling?” (Your name) reached for his face and Rolfe was quick to put his face in them. A needy whine escaped his throat while he nuzzled her. She was his precious mate…

He snarled when he saw Helen enter. The woman scoffed at him in disgust.

“Ugh. James and I are tired of waiting. You have been here over a month! We want you gone beast. We’ll do it ourselves.”

“So you’re cancelling the contract?” He hummed while he continued to tenderly kiss (your name)‘a palms. “Are you sure? Did you read the fine print?”

“Yes. We don’t need your kind here, true love will prevail-“ Helen didn’t even have time to scream before a giant black wolf hybrid had dug it’s fangs into her throat and ripped it apart like wrapping paper. Blood splattered all over the floor and walls as Helen could only helplessly choke on her own blood.

“Yes… true love will prevail.” He muttered with a a satisfied hum. “My mate will be so happy.”

Meanwhile, James fled into the forest for dear life. That beast had gotten Helen! The two of them couldn’t believe the werewolf would turn on him.

James loudly leapt when he heard something large chase him through the underbrush on all fours. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel his sweat pool down his back in puddles. He needed to get to the church! A demon such as the bounty hunter couldn’t possibly enter there-

But James was knocked to the ground as an agonized shriek fell from his lips. The werewolf began to shake and mangle his leg like the bloodthirsty beast it was…

“Let me go! Let me go! I didn’t do anything-“

Rolfe chuckled darkly. The black werewolf dropped his legs and glanced his beastly head at James. “Oh but she never did anything either… all she did was foolishly love you.”

“W-what do you mean? Are you talking about-“ James’s words were muffled by the paw like hand that covered his mouth. Rolfe shushed him.

“Shhh. You may have failed to pay me and cancel my contract but I had gotten something far more valuable from this transaction. Something most werewolves dream to find in their lifetimes… a fated mate!” Rolfe sighed dreamily. “You may have failed as a protector and provider, but I surely won’t! You have given me something more valuable than any coin could offer… yet you were neglectful to her. Such a shame really.”

“I… I’ll do anything! Just take her and let me live.”

“Ah but I can’t do that. Not when she still calls for you at night. No… you have to be eliminated. Destroyed, really. You can no longer exist on the same planet as her! You are in the way of my love!”

Loud screams of terror ringed out throughout the crisp night air and then it was silence.

Rolfe returned hours later scrubbed clean of blood while he crawled into the bed with his darling mate. He sighed in contentment when she cuddled him. Yes… it may take time to train her properly, but he was sure he could do it. He could make her love him. Just like he loved her.

[theaethernetconnection]

When I was playing Troilus in troilus and Cressida (Shakespeare) THIS IS THE EXACT REALITY OF THE MOURNING HE GOES THROUGH. his brother's body has been disrespected so much to the point that the Trojans know they won't be able to give him a proper burial and his spirit won't be able to go to the underworld. That pain and anguish is so much deeper than just death. You can't bury your brother because he's in pieces across miles of rocks and he will never, ever, find rest.

You can talk about dying honorably in battle but THAT is the purest form of disgrace and insult to not let someone pass to the afterlife.

Also this shows just how in love and pain at Patroclus's death Achilles was for her to want to do THAT to Hector. That line? That line is everything. She didn't want Hector to be allowed ANYTHING not in this life nor in the underworld.

i've noticed just how often achilles' dragging of hector's corpse is framed mostly as an act of extreme disrespect, or only some brutal show of triumph. personally i think that's underselling both achilles' intention and what the trojans must be thinking as they watch it happen.

hector's corpse is divinely protected so it can't be damaged by the greeks after death; all that effectively happens in the iliad is that his body gets dirty. but under normal circumstances (and i'm not gonna impose realism on mythology, but the iliad is famously detailed when it comes to bodily trauma), the physical reality of dragging a corpse along stony ground for miles would be severe disfigurement and dismemberment. first the skin would wear off, then soft tissues, then extremities would start to detach. i think the iliad's original audience would be aware of that as an intended outcome.

achilles (who doesn't yet know that hector's body has been granted divine stasis) doesn't just want to parade his enemy's corpse around, he wants to tear it apart ("i only wish that this fury inside my heart would drive me to carve you to pieces and eat your flesh raw..."), he wants it to not resemble a human anymore. he wants hector's blood and flesh to circle the city of troy. he wants to make it impossible for hector's family to gather the pieces of him to cremate and that way hector's spirit won't find passage into the underworld. that's what the gods are preventing from happening, they're not just keeping the corpse pretty for priam to pick up later.

[aroace-madness]

Comfortable

Captain Marvel was a wonderful guy, friendly, caring, loyal to a fault and always cheery

Everyone loved him or at least respected him

The Justice League especially

So it's not a surprise when the Captain hasn't answered their calls and messages for a few days, they decided to visit him in his home city, Fawcett

Fawcett is a nice city, weird as hell and concerning at times but it had its own beauty

So in all honestly no one was shocked when a big piece of metal came hurling at the league the very second they stepped a foot in the borders of the city

Clark didn't have a chance to take off the ground before a woman in a silver helmet caught it, beside the helmet from which they could see her long Brown hair, she wore a red shirt, a blue belt, and gloves boots and a yellow bottom of a bodysuit that showed off her legs

She putted the piece of metal down on the ground and landed in front of them

“Hello, I’m Bulletgirl” the woman- Bulletgirl extended her hand for a handshake and Diana, who was the closest to her, accepted it

“Nice to meet another sister in arms, I’m Wonder Woman and this” she gestured at her friends “is the Justice League”

“Oh the Justice League, we heard so much about you” Bulletgirl smiled brightly “it's so nice to finally meet you properly, I apologise for the welcome you got but we’ve been having a bit of a problem for the last few day”

“Which includes flying pieces of metal?” Barry cocked his eyebrow, not that she could see

Bulletgirl didn't say anything, just pointed behind her

There was a gigantic robot walking through the city, it seemed to try and swat away whatever was flying around it, probably Captain

“Yeesh” that was Hal

“Yeah, Dr Sivanna started wreaking havoc in that robot a few days ago and we're trying to get him out without damaging the city and hurting people” Bulletgirl rubbed the back of her neck “we’re herding him to a less populated area and evacuating people from there to lessen the risks of anything happening”

Before anyone from the league could say anything, red blurr hitted the ground in front of them

“Ugh” the blur turned out the be a man

“Hi sweetheart” Bulletgirl waved at the man who was apparently her love “i see your ‘i can handle it’ is doing well”

“Oh yeah kick the lying one” the man managed to sit up with a grunt, he was wearing the same helmet as Bulletgirl

“I have the honor to introducing my dunce of a husband Bulletman” the woman said as she helped her husband stand up, his costume was very similar to his wifes, the only difference really were pants and a lack of gloves

“Nice to meet you” he turned to Bulletgirl “Do you have to call me that?” Bulletman grimaced a which made his wife laugh and kiss his cheek

“Now don't be dramatic dear i've called you far worse”

“True” Bulletman shrugged and dusted his clothes off “so, you're the infamous Justice League we’ve been hearing so much about”

“That's us” Clark smiled

“You do look like a bunch of well meaning people, even that shadow guy over there” he pointed at Bruce “dressed in black, cowl, long cape, gloomy demeanor, you must be Batman”

Batman just grunted in acknowledgament

“How are things going back there?” Bulletgirl asked her husband

“Oh, Voltage and Mary are evacuating people from a neighbourhood that Captain, Mr Scarlet and Ibis are herding Sivanna to”

“That's good” She patted his shoulder and turned back to the Justice League “so what brings you to Fawcett anyways?”

“Oh” Barry perked up “we wanted to see how Cap is doing since he hasn't been answering his comms for the past few days but we see why”

“Yeah” there was a silence for a moment “sooooo, do you guys want to help us out with that?”

Everyone agreed

Clark flew over to where the machine was and created a makeshift corridor from ice

Hal started herding the robot with his projections alongside Captain Marvel who waved at him and a man in a red turban

Shayera, Bulletgirl and Bulletman were flying around the robots head to try and confuse Sivana and IT seemed to work

Sivanas machine was slowly stepped towards a big, circular housing estate while Barry was quickly evacuating the last of civilians from the dangered area

When he was finally in a right position, Diana wrapped her lasso around the robots legs, Bruce did the same with his grappling hook

Shayera, Hal and Bullegirl started pushing at the shoulders of the robot while Captain Marvel and Bulletman were pulling them

The robot lost its footing and started to lose its balance. Clark made a giant ice wall to cushion the fall

The machines upper body fell on the ice and shattered it to about a half of it's height before stopping (Barry made sure to catch and put away the pieces of ice, before any of them landed on any building)

Bulletgirl opened the hatch of the machines head and took Sivana out, holding him by the scruff of his kilt while he was kicking and screaming, flailing his arms around

“I’ll take him to the police, Mister Scarlet is already with them making sure that there aren't any any injured or god forbid casualties” Bulletgirl said as she flew away from Sivana in her hand

The rest of the two groups gathered on the ground by the robot

“That was awesome guys” Barry smiled as he joined the group

“It sure was” Bulletman nodded his hand and putted his hands on his hips, seconds before he got tackled and putted in a one arm headlock by Marvel

“You guys were great!” Captain smiled in his typical fashion as he held the Bulletman

The man didn't seem too bothered by his current situation

“Do you have to do that every time?” The man in a red turban asked, tilting his head a bit

“You know I do, Ibis” Marvel grinned at the man, Ibis apparently “you guys were great too” Captain directed his attention to them, completely shifting his attitude

Before any of the League members could say anything else they got interrupted by two blurs, red and blue, flying straight into the Captain

The man didn't budge and just caught the two into his other arm

The red blur was a girl, looked almost identical to Captain, Mary Marvel

The blue blur was a guy, Voltage

Captain didn't say anything, just dropped them as they kept laughing and cheering

“Alright Cap, I think it's time for you to let go of Bulletman” Mr Scarlet said, leaning a bit on Ibis

Marvel sticked his tongue out at Mr Scarlet and eased his arm, letting the other man slip out of his grasp

Bulletman took advantage of his freedom and slapped Captain in the arm. Captain was about to slap back when Bulletgirl landed next to them

“Alright, Sivana is taken care of” she dusted her hands off and looked at the mess

“Yeah this is going to be a bitch to clean up” Ibis sighed

“Yeah, how about you guys start and I’ll escort our guests” Bulletgirl smiled

“Yeah yeah, you do you” Voltage rolled his eyes as he was already starting the clean-up

Bulletgirl motioned to the league to follow her, and they did

“Did Captain Marvel seem, different to you guys?” Clark his friends in a shushed voice as they walked trough the streets of the city

“He did seem much more relaxed around the other guys” Barry rubbed his chin

“He also called them by their names, without all these “Misses” and “Misters” he always uses when addressing one of us” Shayera pointed out

“Hmm” Bruce hummed, thinking

They arrived at the city borders and stopped in front of Bulletgirl

“It was really nice meeting all of you and thank you for your help” she smiled at them brightly

“It was nice meeting you and your friends too” Clark smiled back

“Uhh” Hal interjected “I got a question, you see, Captain Marvel seemed much more relaxed around you guys, how did you get him to let loose?”

Bulletgirl stared at Hal for a few moments

“Is he overly polite with you, is always respectful and seems like he would rather die than be mean to any of you?”

The League was left dumbfounded for a few seconds

“Uhh yeah” Barry nodded “how did you know?”

“Because he was the exact same way with us when he started out as a hero of Fawcett” Bulletgirl explained

“There is no way that's true” Hal shook his head

“Oh but it is, it took him about five years to finally let loose, you gotta give him some time. How long has he worked with you?”

“About a year and a half now” Diana answered

“Oh yeah, it’s much too soon for him” Bulletgirl laughed

“Maybe he does need time to get comfortable” Diana rubbed the back of her neck “how long have you been working together”

“Oh we’ve been fighting together since 1960”

“1960!?” Barrys eyes bulged out, same as the rest of the League really

“What do you mean 1960?” Clark asked in shock, he wasn't even on earth in 1960, he doubted that he was even in plans during that time

“Not to sound rude or anything but how old are you?” Hal asked

“Oh i’m 35” she answered, as if she’s not frying the justice leagues brains

“Wait, wait, wait” Shayera shook her head “ if you've been working with Cap since 1960, then how are you still 35?”

“That's because of the Suspendium” Bulletgirl said as if it explained anything. She must have noticed their confusion since she started talking again “Dr Sivana used a chemical he created, Suspendium, to trap Captain Marvel, Mary Marvel and Voltage in a force Field that would keep them suspended animation, something went wrong and instead of just capturing the three, the entire city got surrounded by the time bubble, as we call it, with Sivana in it. Captain managed to pop the bubble two years ago”

“Two years ago was when there were first sighting of Captain Marvel” Bruce pointed out

“Yes, the second the bubble popped, Captain started flying around the world”

“Wait” Clark shook his head “how come we never heard of something like that ever happening?”

“Oh” Bulletgirl rubbed the back of her neck “apparently everything and everyone that was trapped in the time bubble was completely erased from the maps and history books and only came back when the bubble was popped”

“That doesn't make any sense” Bruce sighed as he rubbed his temples

“Nothing makes sense, bat boy” Bulletgirl shrugged “now, as much as it's nice standing here and talking I really should help with cleaning” She said as she took of from the ground and bid them adieu

“God this is so weird” Barry sighed

“You're telling me?” Clark slumped a bit

“I think it's best if we don't think about it too much” Diana patted her friends shoulders

As they came back to the Watchtower they all agreed not to think too much about the whole Suspendium situation, it would only lead to a headache

They do like Captains friends tho, they seem nice and are good heroes

@puppetwoman17 @shazam-secret-santa

I hope you like it :D

[side-shuffling-hyperfixations]

Is it just me or do 2003 Leo and Raph have the best relationship out of all the iterations? It's my favorite, at least. Like they do get snappy with each other sometimes but their spats aren't nearly as often, as intense or festering as long as some others I've seen.

It was refreshing that Raph didn't challenge Leo's position as leader nearly as much. Sometimes he would challenge the decisions he made while leading but not undermine his position. He learned and mostly accepted that Leo would be a good leader in childhood and he backed him up nine times out of ten (even when Leo didn't know it: e.g. the "If Leo needs us, we're here. But let's see what this is all about." An instance of Raph pulling a Leo-type move, hanging back to recon rather than rushing in, while Leo's judgment was clouded. Learning from each other and supporting even from a distance)

How ready they are to be there for each other? How openly protective they are of each other? Like they're not as coy or begrudging or emotionally constipated as others about showing how much they care. Small gestures, big gestures, it doesn't matter. Leo's having trouble focusing on a plan because of the noise? Raph makes the noise go away. Wasn't Raph the first one who wanted to look for Leo when his morning training (getting ambushed by the Foot) ran unusually late? Or the scene where Leo's suddenly getting pulled away by an unknown magical force and he calls out to his brothers in alarm. Don cries, "Oh, no!" as he and Mikey stand there and watch; they freeze up. Raph dives headlong after him instantly.

And how they take it when they can't be there for each other? He dove headlong and he didn't actually make it in time to grab Leo's hand before he's gone. Master Splinter has to physically hold him back as he's still shouting and fighting to get to him (and then he has to be restrained again by magic when it looks like Leo's in danger in the 1v1 he was pulled to. Screw the fact that he's obviously outpowered by the almighty binding rules of the duel, he'll go kicking and screaming anyway, that's his bro!) And the scene where they're on top of a moving car, Leo loses his grip on Raph and he falls and from Leo's POV, time slows until he sees Raph land alright. Raph facing his fear ick about bugs, jumping down to defend Leo from the big boss bug with no hesitation when he sees him get stung? And of course when he cries just the once (as far as I recall) in the whole series when Leo's seriously hurt. How he makes me cry in SAINW as he crawls to Leo's side, reaches out for him, calls his name with his dying breath, his last word is his brother's name as he falls beside him, hand against his??? And that was after being estranged in that what-if future! LIKE BRO THAT SCENE MAKES ME WANT TO SCREAM

Even just the two or three lines where Leo's waxing poetic about their family, being completely sincere, and Mikey bursts out laughing and teases him for being a sap. Raph immediately tells Mikey to lay off and that Leo's got a point.

They're just so good. They have a few arguments like all siblings do but there is zero doubt that they love each other to pieces and they don't hesitate at all to show it on the regular. And outside of that estrangement timeframe where they were traumatized and grieving and in a literal apocalypse where they lost all hope, they didn't let their relationship fall apart the way some other iterations did. (Like I love 2007 but that fight on the rooftop? Where Raph could have killed him? I watch it and I can't help but think to myself, "2003 Leo and Raph would never." We saw them have a tussle on a rooftop and the moment there was a possibility he put Raph in real danger, Leo came to his senses and dropped everything to make sure he was okay. I dunno)

Asfjskjfks this is all just biased four AM rambling. The point is I love them, your honor, best/closest/healthiest R&B dynamic duo forever in my heart <3 (Natural disclaimer: I don't say any of this to crap on any of the other iterations. I like them all! I just like 2003's portrayal the most)

[zevrra]

could u write a jayce x female or gn reader fic or blurb where the reader has major baby fever or just wants a child in general? I feel like Jayce would make such a good girl dad. idk..this request is pretty stupid but i’ve just been craving Jayce as a dad.

I LUV UR WRITING BTW!! PLS NEVER STOP POSTING! 🤍

a/n: AAAAH this was such a cute idea i couldn’t resist KSHDKH. jayce 100% is a girl dad, you can’t change my mind and i also like to think he’d want a HUGE family too. 😭 thank you so much for the request and im sorry it’s a lil shorter but i hope it makes you giggle and kick your feet at the thought of dad!jayce bc i did KSHSKH i love jayce so much omg

jayce is definitely someone who wants to have a giant family one day. wants to have as many kids, in anyway possible, as his partner will let him. he’d be so sweet talking about how one day he hopes he can show off his kids and give them everything they could ever dream about. his heart is so big and it’s just so cute.

the two of you had been together for a very long time and seeing every child recently made you yearn for your own. so when you mention over dinner one day, wanting to start a family; he’s ecstatic. he’s so happy, staring at you with wide eyes as his face lights up with that stupidly charming smile of his.

“are you serious?” he asks; as if this might be a dream and that you’re lying to him.

“no jayce, i said it just to tease you.” you respond sarcastically. laughing with a shake of your head. you manage a shy glance in his direction as your fingers play with the utensils on the table. “i’ve just been thinking about it recently. seeing all the cute babies around the city during the holidays is just making me…want to start a family.” you add with a smile towards your lover.

who still sits and stares at you with wide eyes. his mouth slightly agape, fangs flashing as his lips curl up in a warm smile. he reaches across the table to grab your hand, his pretty hazel eyes full of love as he brings your hand up to his lips; placing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

“it’s your call, my love but i would be honored to start a family with you.” jayce hums sweetly. he plants another kiss against your knuckles before his thumb rubs across the top of your hand, soothingly touching you as he practically looks like he’s on the verge of tears. as if he’s waited for this moment for forever.

always so dramatic and you loved him for it.

“i think you’d make a great dad.” you state in a matter of fact tone, giving his hand a gentle squeeze back.

and truly, jayce would in fact make the best dad. you didn’t have to say it out loud to know it was true either; since he was already the perfect partner. you could easily imagine him with a little girl, protecting her from any harm, playing dress up, pretending to drink tea when he’s offered a plastic cup. he’s so sweet and deserves everything good in the world and you wanted nothing more than to start that next chapter in his and your own life.

[mysteria157]

Ryu!!!!

I’m so so sorry for the delay, but I’m here! Do not apologize for writing all of this because I loved it!! To see what made you smile and laugh and blush is the best part for me heehee.

Sukuna was so daunting at first. Because the only thing in my mind was the fact that he would never even entertain having a human next to him LOL. But I think that’s what’s so fun about fandom writing and characterization. You can think of the wonkiest scenarios and say to yourself “he might not ever do this…but if he did, what would it look like?” For Sukuna it was, he doesn’t even like other emotions besides power amongst others…definitely not love. But if he did experience love, how would that be shown for someone like him?

You’re a human yes, but you were the one who he saw as worthy to be called his Queen, so clearly there’s something there. So to show sukuna’s process of coming to terms with what he’s feeling…through his care and consideration he tries to wave off, I think it felt right for him. If he’s going to make a gingerbread house, I knew he would love the tale behind it LOL. If he’s going to watch Elf, I knew he would complain about Buddy. And at first I only wanted to write just little traditions, but the concept of him trying to guess his gift seemed so funny Lolol.

He’s experiencing love for the first time and you’ve given him the space and patience to process it in his own way.

When I looked at your blog to get inspo, I was so blown away. It’s beautiful, Ryu! Your fragrance posts?!? I took notes for myself LOL.

And I know you think you can’t see yourself with Sukuna but you should! I think that’s what makes selfshipping so amazing. We have the freedom to imagine whatever we want. And you should embrace that Sukuna doesn’t love…but if he is going to love, it’ll be for carnage and fighting and you. And you’re worthy of that, just like you said. You’re deserving of it. Don’t ever feel like you shouldn’t write about him. Because I would love to see more of it 💕

I hope your heart isn’t too heavy today and that your holidays are going well ❄️

Writing about Sukuna for you was such an honor. I had so much fun. And to learn more about you in the process was one of the best gifts of this entire journey.

Happy Holidays, Ryu 💐💕🎄

Merry Christmas from my little corner at the @pixelcafe-network. Thank you so much for hosting this gift exchange! I had so much fun writing this for my elf @grimmweepers. Your Christmas list gave me the opportunity to write Sukuna for the first time. I wanted to lean as much into your likes as much as possible so that it feels like it's you in this story.

I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: True Form!Sukuna x Reader (Ryu)

Rating/CW: slight dark romance, fluff, implied sexual content, dark themes (references to violence, blood, destruction, and a hint of cannibalism because it's Sukuna). MDNI!

WC: ~8.5K

Summary: Sukuna gives in to mortal festivities, for the promise of a worthy gift, unaware that some traditions leave marks deeper than ancient power.

Divider: @cyberbeat @arminsumi @firefly-graphics

The winter night drapes itself across the ancient estate, stars scattered above like diamonds on black velvet. Fresh snow has transformed this formidable domain into something almost magical—though no amount of pristine white can truly soften the centuries of power that seems to pulse through every shadow of the grounds.

You used to take these walks alone, finding solace in the environment that gave way to the shifting change of the seasons. But now, on this chilly and almost silent night, your solitary footprints are accompanied by another. Deeper, more commanding treads belong to Sukuna, whose very presence seems to make the stars above burn brighter, as if they, too, acknowledge the power that moves beneath them, feeding off the cursed energy he emits with every breath.

Your exhale forms a frosty white cloud before vanishing into the night air. It’s cold, far too cold for a walk, but you’re out here to clear your thoughts, to quell the overwhelming urge to ask Sukuna a question that you don’t want to imagine the answer to.

The thought first emerged when fall gave way to winter, the autumn leaves replaced by the starkness of bare branches now hidden beneath blankets of snow. The thought of markets late at night adorned in yellow lights, of hot cocoa and gifts wrapped in red ribbon.

The words, having coiled behind your teeth for days like a spring, finally slink past your lips. “I was thinking…what if we celebrated Christmas together?”

“Christmas.” The word leaves his mouth not as a question, but as if it’s not worth inflection.

You bite the inside of your cheek, fighting your rolling anxiety. He’s never been one for new things. This is his domain, after all—his home, his formidable walls that he has erected and ruled with an iron fist. The mere thought of anyone—let alone a mortal—suggesting something outside his design is almost laughable.

You pause in your footsteps, tracing his looming shadow in the snow before you look up at him. He’s tall, looming with a height that comes not from this realm, his silhouette dwarfing everything around him. While you are covered in furs and wool and warmth, he stands in a simple black Haori, barely covering his skin and open to show his chest.

The dark markings of his tattoos glow like black embers in the moonlight, each one a testament to the ancient power that pulses beneath his skin. Two pairs of muscular arms fold across his chest, large and thrumming with strength. An archaic strength that can level cities and destroy with little effort, yet those same fearsome arms cradle you with unexpected gentleness in the depths of night.

The fact that you understand this side of Sukuna, gives you the strength to press on.

“It’ll be our first Christmas together,” you press.

“A mortal festivity,” he claps back, naturally sharp but with little heat.

“I’m a mortal,” you counter, meeting his gaze head-on, refusing to back down from the menacing glare you can see right through. “And from what I remember, I am your Queen.”

Quadruple crimson eyes narrow from your truthful declaration, their glow cutting through the frost-laden air like embers in the snow. The two on the right gleam brighter against the rough texture of his half-petrified cheek, like jagged stone contrasting with smooth flesh on the other side. “You mistake indulgence for approval.”

You shrug, nonplussed, sniffing the chilly air up your runny nose. “Then indulge me. Mortals, like myself, put up Christmas trees, decorate their homes, bake treats, and watch movies.”

He hums, taking a step toward you. As he draws closer, the air shifts. While you have no cursed energy, you’ve come to know his intimately. It presses against your skin like an unseen force, electric and stifling, its movements mirroring the emotions he tries to smother. You’ve learned to read it like your favorite book, though it’s a story only you seem privy to, and you don’t intend to let him know.

“Indulge me?” you try again.

He remains unconvinced, his characteristic indifference plucking at your cold skin as you look up at him unflinching. It’s not like he denies you often. Sukuna, for as powerful as he is, gives to your many asks with a wave of his hand as if your happiness is unwarranted, even if his gaze flickers to you minutely for praise at haven catered to you.

Your confidence has only grown steadily, but that anxiety that curls around an ask still tastes sour. So you pull out another mental note card, a line you practiced in the mirror for days for this very moment.

“Gift-giving is also another tradition,” you sigh in faux nonchalance, pursing your dry lips as you try to ignore the flicker of curiosity you see on his face. The subtle tick of his jaw, the way one of his eyes tightens just so, the feel of his cursed energy pausing in its movements as if to hear you more clearly. “I know you’d never turn down any sort of offering. Especially from your Queen.”

Only seconds of anxious silence pass before that deep hum permeates the air, a gentle give. “You use that title often, Ryu.” You shrug again, biting the flesh of your cheek to suppress the victorious smile you can feel in your muscles. “Why must I wait for a specific day of the year to receive a gift? I can simply take what I want with little effort.”

His hubris knows no bounds. Neither does your perseverance.

“You put up with a few days of Christmas cheer, and I’ll make sure you get the best gift ever. Something wonderful and fitting for the King of Curses,” you promise, hoping to bring him home with your sales pitch. “But no griping.”

Sukuna scoffs, indignation heavy in the sound as he puffs white smoke into the air. “I do not gripe.” The look you throw him is unimpressed; one brow arched in a silent challenge that grants you a narrowed-eyed glare of concession in return. “Why do you assume you will get what you want?”

He reaches for you as he complains, and despite his sharp tone, you lean into the weight of his touch. You’ve come to know the language of his hands, each gesture a revelation of the complex nature he embodies. Like now, as he adjusts the furs draped around your shoulders—precious things hunted and skinned himself. His movements are deliberate, with hands impossibly gentle despite their proven capacity for destruction.

“Because you see me,” you whisper, the words soft but heavy with meaning. They carry the weight of something unspoken, a recognition of the four-letter word he is not yet ready to voice—your understanding of his care beneath his praise, his protection weaved into his possession.

A sales pitch now seems trivial, disrespectful even, in light of how the tone has shifted around you. Shame prickles at your skin, but it fades just as quickly, overwhelmed by the truth of your words. You do see him, even when he's being stubborn.

Sukuna’s answering hum to your question—to the anxious worry that started this conversation—reverberates through the air, an unspoken approval that settles in the space between you both.

Days later, the skies bloom with gentle hues of cotton candy—pale blue and pastel pink, slowly darkening as the sun peeks on the horizon. The dawn of winter greets you with its chilly embrace, its breath sharp and unrelenting, its touch frostbitten. You’re bleary-eyed as you shuffle over broken branches and moss-covered paths in the East forest.

The weight of your determination keeps you moving, even as your body protests, regretting your tenacity because why would Ryomen Sukuna, King of Curses, buy a tree when he can simply ‘get one from the backyard.’

“I like that one,” you offer, shakily pointing with a heavily gloved finger at a modest six-footer, its snow-laden branches slumping under the weight.

“If I’m to entertain a mortal festivity, it will not be done poorly.”

You’re far too cold to point out his first gripe of the day. His voice carries that familiar edge, but beneath it rests a note that only you can hear—the same careful attention he uses when observing the movements of his enemies, now turned to the expansive forest to the east of his estate.

You close your mouth around an exhale, your cheeks puffing like a fish in your own rendition of a pout as you follow him. The forest stretches silent and vast around you, a living extension of how far his power goes. Sukuna stops abruptly, still as stone as he surveys the trees with a menacing gaze. The dominance he exudes seems to make the air itself hold its breath. You’re simply a spectator—watching an apex predator stalk its prey—it would be a marvelous sight if you weren’t shaking like a leaf.

“This one,” he declares at last, voice carrying the familiarity of pride and authority as he looks up at a magnificent pine.

It’s uncharacteristically different in every way; a shadow brown trunk as thick as his waist, strong branches that house deep green needles, forming their own canopy over the other and covered in the white blanket of snow. Its towering height practically pierces the sky, a physical representation of how the being in front of you sees himself—ambivalent and all-seeing.

With a flick of two fingers, Sukuna’s Cleave technique slices cleanly through the thick trunk. The looming pine shivers, snow plopping from its arms in white globs before it slowly falls to the ground with a muffled thud. The wind that picks up from the disturbance tousles his pink hair, strands whipping against his marked face. One of Sukuna’s muscular arms grabs his prize and effortlessly hoists it onto his shoulder.

You can’t help but admire the broad expanse of his back. The curve and dip of muscle against black markings that shift with each movement, the skin warm to the touch despite how cold he makes himself seem.

The sight of him makes you think of his Christmas gift—your secret project—the fabric carefully chosen to embrace that strength with something just as enduring. You wonder if he will notice the details, the painstaking intricacy you’ve chosen just for him.

His gift is soon forgotten when his gaze falls on you, an unmistakable glint of satisfaction in his eyes. Carmine pools that invite you to step closer and gaze beneath its liquid, to see small slivers of vulnerability presented in the form of the pine on his shoulders. He’s waiting, expecting not praise for his strength, but praise for what he has provided. An offering.

You smile gently, genuinely, and without quivering despite the temperature. “I love it,” you compliment, watching as your words card over his offering like a caress that only fans the flames of his pride. His belly mouth curves into a smirk, chuffed in agreement with its host, white teeth glistening and ghostly breath puffing in steaming plumes.

He walks to you, thunderous steps shaking the forest floor but doing little to shake you, tucking and readjusting your furs once more before ushering you back to the estate, his unspoken need for you to get warm carving a smile onto your face.

In Sukuna’s vast estate, where shadows roam, and servants move with silent reverence, there is no room for joviality and merriment. He rules unflinchingly, with a face usually etched in disinterest and a heart that beats only in the throes of violence and battle. But since you’ve set foot in his domain that he keeps dark and teeming with fear, things have changed.

Now, the halls carry the scent of your vast perfume collection, a blend of smoky oud and earthy florals that linger in the air long after you pass. The servants, once bound by fear, now offer gentle smiles to the mortal who goes against the rules of this cursed realm.

Now, the shadows walk with you, satisfying your thirst for the paranormal as they follow you like a silent watchdog, a testament to the orders of their master—a being with four arms, four eyes, and a grudging acceptance of your presence.

Now, the mortal who carved her way into Sukuna’s domain with hardly a blink, the mortal who can see beneath his veneer of bleach-white bone and hardened blood…

Now… that mortal has decided to bring Christmas to these ancient halls.

Darkness now flickers with light. Pine garland decorates the windowsills in the expansive front room of Sukuna’s estate, its sharp scent striking through the air with every brush of your fingertips along its needles. The front room, what was once empty and meant only as a tunnel to another destination, is now lively from your touch.

A tall fireplace, its mantle wrapped in garlands of cypress and silk ribbons the color of deep red wine that reminds you of his eyes, casts a warm glow over goblet-red curtains that frame looming windows and fur-lined chairs that you curl into when you read your many books.

Sukuna has molded his domain to fit your silent requests. Your Christmas spirit that Sukuna continues to entertain if only for the promise of his reward, breathes life. His spoils—the cleaved pine—stands proudly by the fireplace, its branches wrapped in shining white lights and delicate ornaments.

Uraume was diligent, while unwilling to entertain anything pertaining to mortals, their loyalty outshines their disinterest when it comes to their Queen. Said loyalty shines in the snow that rests on each emerald branch, crystalline shimmers colored amber and orange from the roaring flames of the fireplace. Their technique ensures it will never melt, an ethereal touch of winter preserved.

You can’t help the warm smile that graces your features as you admire the transformed space. But it’s the scents wafting from the kitchen that draw you from your admiration. Cinnamon and nutmeg dance with something darker, a metallic tang that speaks to how well you’ve learned to blend your world with his.

Uraume, for as menacing as a curse user they are, has the cooking skills worthy of Michelin praise. The kitchen is their sacred domain but is now a battlefield of flour and spices, mortal and ancient alike. The heat from multiple ovens warms your bare toes, and copper pots and pans clank and steam with soluble renditions of a Christmas feast.

Sukuna’s dutiful servant moves about the kitchen with practiced ease, refusing help from the other cursed spirit-like servants in your presence no matter how many times you’ve insisted that you don’t mind.

“The consistency is correct,” Uraume observes, subtle praise in their soft tone as they nod toward the ruby liquid you’ve folded into dough. “Sukuna-sama will find it acceptable.”

You hide your smile at their careful choice of words. Months of coexistence have taught you to read the subtle ways in which Uraume expresses care—their meticulous attention to your recipes when cooking for you, your happiness from delicious meals enough to mask their fondness they will never admit to.

“We’re going to make gingerbread houses,” you exclaim an hour later to an indifferent Sukuna. His presence in the kitchen is rare, and you’ve had to ignore the peep of garbled eyes from cursed spirits who poke through the kitchen doors in disbelief before scuttling away in fear of being caught.

The counter is littered with cooled cutouts of gingerbread house walls, arches, and windows. White icing in pastry bags that will serve as glue and gumdrops to be adorned as paneling is the perfect setup for this small occasion between you both.

Despite Sukuna’s menacing demeanor, he is astute. It’s why he’s achieved the status he has now, why he’s feared among the world, both mortal plane and astral. So he wastes no time piecing together his own creation, his eyebrows creased in concentration fitting of a warrior planning a siege.

As Uraume flutters around you both, you recount the tale of Hansel and Gretel, Sukuna’s crimson eyes gleaming with interest at the more gruesome parts of the brothers Grimm.

“So this witch,” he muses, two hands delicately pipping white icing for a jagged wall, his other two hands covered in flour. “She devoured children who wandered into her domain.” His eyes twinkle with approval, his belly mouth curving into a devious smirk. “An acceptable response to trespassers.”

“She built the house to lure him in,” you add, swallowing a chuckle as you feel his cursed energy wiggle around you in interest. “That’s why it was made out of sweets.”

“Why did these children not become a proper meal?”

“They outsmarted her,” you explain, watching in muted supplication as his face drops from satisfaction to disapproval. “Pushed her into her own oven.”

His belly mouth scoffs, frowning as his thick tongue tastes the spiced air. “Mortals.”

As your special cookies perfume the air with metallic sweetness, you admire Sukuna as he works. He utilizes all four hands to guide his gingerbread creation to completion, clicking his teeth when a wall crumbles in his palms and humming in delight when the icing holds steady. Your gingerbread house lays half-created as you watch him, observing in silence until his masterpiece sits before you.

It’s a fortress—walls as imposing as a cathedral’s, windows designed to daze would-be escapees. The path to the door winds hypnotically, sugar-crystal steps that seem to pulse with cursed energy, leading young feet exactly where he wants them. The final touch? Miniature figurines made of pretzel sticks and marshmallows that are arranged at the front door like an offering.

“The witch’s failure was in her execution, not her concept,” he declares. Where normal gingerbread houses invite warmth, his promises something darker—a blend of Christmas tradition and Sukuna’s deadlier inclinations. “No child would think to check for a secondary barrier here.” He speaks as if defending a dissertation, pointing to the candy canes that could easily become weapons instead of the holiday cheer they should represent.

You can’t help the laugh that bubbles from your chest, soft and genuine, as you admire his evil architecture. Four eyes find you immediately, piercing in their gaze as if defensive, yet still holding something akin to wanting your approval. Your hand finds his marked cheek, fingers tracing the tattoos that mirror all over his body. He leans into your touch with imperial indifference, wary of Uraume’s presence in the kitchen but not indignant enough to deny your warmth.

“A domain worth of the King of Curses,” you praise, watching how his belly mouth curves into the wide grin that his master does not offer. It’s more than enough to know he’s satisfied.

“And why is yours unfinished?” Sukuna asks, crossing his arms in mock reproach despite the splattering of flour on his skin and Haori. “Surely, my Queen will make something of equal likeness.”

The oven behind you dings before you can reply, and Uraume retrieves your treat, the aroma rich and spiced. You slide the steaming plate between you, the burgundy cookies still piping hot and ready for him.

“I had other priorities,” you supply, blowing on your fingers before you offer a cookie to his belly mouth. It opens wide, tongue lolling to the side like a panting dog and already watering before you place the cookie on his taste buds. He chomps loudly, sharp teeth devouring the concoction of ginger, blood, and aged spices from Uraume’s private garden—a perfect blend of your world and his. His cursed energy warms, wrapping around your waist in approval as Sukuna throws cookies into his own mouth now.

“Is this my gift?” is all he asks, satisfied but ever impatient as he and his stomach finish the plate. You don’t resist the eye roll. “It’s a very acceptable gift. However, I wouldn’t have entertained Christmas if you only wanted to cook.”

“It’s not your gift Sukuna.” You wave him off, snatching the now empty plate before his belly mouth’s tongue can lick at the blood crumbs, another heaping plate taking its place that Uraume leaves. “And don’t try to guess. You won’t get very far.”

“Hm.” He leans back slightly, one of his hands reaching to dust flour from his forearm. You roll your eyes again, choosing instead to finish your gingerbread house while he sulks. “Then it must be something more…significant. Ancient scrolls, perhaps? Found deep within forgotten temples, imbued with curses?” His voice drips with mock curiosity as if daring you to reveal even the slightest clue.

You snort, pausing mid-pipe to give him a flat look. “First of all, ancient scrolls? Really, Sukuna?” His belly mouth grumbles at being ignored, lips covered in a red dusting of cookie smacking for more. “Second of all, what would I be doing roaming around a temple? This isn’t the Heian era, despite how much you like to talk about it.”

He tilts his head, eyes narrowing slightly, more intrigued than annoyed by your commentary. “So I am wrong?”

“Completely,” you answer, biting back another laugh as you return to your task of piping green icing along a gingerbread wall to resemble bushels of grass. “Do you think your gift revolves around curses and destruction?”

“Why wouldn’t it?” he counters smoothly, his tone smug and his gaze unwavering.

You roll your eyes for what feels like the nth time in only so many minutes, feeling the warmth of his cursed energy curling around your waist again, tugging at you like a child pulling his mother’s sleeve for attention. “Just eat your cookies and stop guessing, Sukuna. You’re nowhere close.”

His belly mouth snickers as Sukuna throws another cookie into it, but his narrowed gaze lingers on you as if memorizing every shift in your expression, every subtle movement of your hands, waiting for you to slip. You have a feeling that even though Christmas is only days away, his curiosity will make it seem like an eternity.

As he often says, Sukuna indulges for you quite often. Trivial mortal instruments meant to stave off your boredom. He tells himself it’s for his own peace, to keep you from pestering him in the throne room, even though he still searches for you and longs for your presence in his lap.

One of those mortal instruments? A television. He knows what they are but has never been bothered to pay attention—an invention he dismissed as frivolous and mind-numbing. The flickering screen is often a source of laughter and comfort on one of your sleepless nights, and though he swore to never sit beside you while it played, here he is. On Christmas Eve. Reclined casually on the expansive sofa in your chambers, a disdainful sneer aimed at the annoying mortal known as ‘Buddy the Elf’, judgment radiating from his very being.

“Ryu, you cannot possibly enjoy this,” he huffs, one hand picking at nonexistent lint on his linen pants, another draped over the back of the couch, and one more cradling your soft form against him.

“Elf is a Christmas tradition!” You insist, handing a heaping hand of buttery popcorn to his belly mouth who accepts with a please grumble. Unlike Sukuna, who prefers a more…carnivorous diet, his belly mouth will eat almost anything it is fed. You chuckle softly, laying your head on his naked chest as you both watch Buddy decorate the department store into a winter wonderland. "I love it."

“He trespasses into their domain and then defiles it. Disgusting.”

“I thought you agreed not to grumble.”

“I never agreed.”

You hide your smile in the warmth of Sukuna’s side, breathing in the familiar aroma of burnt incense that clings to his skin, grounding and intoxicating. The movie plays on, you enjoying, while Sukuna analyzes each scene with the precision he’d use to raze a village. He won’t admit what he’s been reduced to—a powerful being indulging in idiotic entertainment to please the mortal lady of his estate. All for a gift that he cannot guess.

You trace idle patterns on his marked arm. Each touch makes his cursed energy flutter beneath your fingertips, electric kisses on your skin that he pretends not to notice. These are the moments you love most—when the fearsome King of Curses allows himself to simply…exist beside you, his pride softened by the peace you often bring.

“A weapon,” he says suddenly, his voice cutting through Buddy and Jovie’s shower singing.

You blink, craning your neck to look up at him. “What?”

He gestures expectantly to the room around him. “You’ve found a weapon worthy of my domain.”

You should have known the moment he stopped complaining about the movie that his attention had drifted. The fact that this is what he is thinking about makes warmth bloom in your chest. “Are you guessing?”

“I do not guess,” he insists, glowering at the television to avoid looking at you, his curiosity-tinged cursed energy betraying him. “I deduce.”

A weapon would be fitting for someone like him—his strength, his dominance, his endless hunger for power. But it’s a far cry from what he will get. You throw more popcorn into your mouth to stop yourself from laughing at just how wrong he truly is.

He’s silent only for a moment before he adds. “Why must I wait until tomorrow, when you can simply tell me now?” His logic is, as usual, rooted in authority and impatience. You chew another handful of popcorn deliberately, ignoring him as you keep your eyes glued to the screen.

Not even five minutes pass before one of his large hands brushes against the nape of your neck. His fingers card through your hair, tugging the strands—not enough to hurt, but enough to send a shiver down your spine.

You know what he’s doing. His touch feels like a predator sneakily luring in prey. You know this game—this is Sukuna feigning boredom because he’s curious, using seduction to coax you when you’re being stubborn. It’s as effective as it is dangerous. But this time, you’re prepared.

“If you’re going to ignore the movie,” you trail off, your voice a mix of seductive challenge and amusement. You twist in his lap to straddle his waist, sliding your hands up his chest, tracing your fingers around his nipples in slow, deliberate circles. He does not react, at least not on his face. But you can feel the imperceptible jut of his hips, feel his cursed energy hum up your calves, and wrap around your body like a warm fog.

“I know of something else we can do.” You’re suggestive, voice dropping to the pits of your stomach as your lips brush along the sharp edge of his jaw. The shift in power is immediate, and exactly what you want. His hands tighten on your waist, head tilting slightly, giving you better access to lavish him with praise.

“Is that so?” His voice is pitched low, heady already. “Anything is better than this drivel.”

You roll your eyes as you fall back on the sofa, your body arching under his touch as he pulls you closer. Your hand slides lower, tracing the edge of his haori where it hangs loose against his skin.

“You’re impatient as usual,” you whisper, nipping lightly at his neck. “But you’ll wait this time. Won’t you?”

His eyes narrow as if in protest. But he doesn’t answer—not with words, at least. Instead, his hands roam your body, each touch firm and possessive. You grin against his skin, knowing you’ve managed to distract him…at least for now.

“A temple,” his voice rumbles through the darkness, shaking you from the deep edges of sleep. His massive form curves around you possessively, his warmth seeping into your skin. Both of you lie tangled in the aftermath of your earlier indulgences—the sofa, the wall, and, finally, the silk sheets of his bed. All bearing witness to his insatiable need for you.

“Mmm?” you mumble, still trying to pull yourself awake.

“Built in my honor,” he elaborates without repeating himself, shaking you again with a harshness that makes you yelp and throw a glare over your shoulder. He smirks to himself as if he’s finally solved the mystery. “That is my gift.”

You groan, burying your face in your pillow, but secretly relishing in the way he can’t seem to let this go. Rolling over halfway, you peek up at him through heavy-lidded eyes. The moonlight creates a shimmering backdrop, outlining his form with silver, blood-red eyes gleaming with determination. For someone who claims to have no interest in mortal traditions, he’s relentless about this one.

“You woke me up to guess….again,” you grumble, glaring at him through a half-open eye.

“I do not guess,” he starts, ready to repeat the same phrase from hours ago. “I simply—”

“Deduce, yes, I got that the first time.” You cut him off and surge up to give him a kiss, feeling his surprise for only seconds before he melts into your affection. “Go to sleep.”

“A secret text,” he murmurs against your lips, undeterred even as his arms pull you closer. “Written in blood.”

You grimace before answering with your lips on his again, your leg curling around a thick waist, ready to use the ammo from your arsenal just like a few hours ago. “Do I need to distract you again?” you ask, lifting an eyebrow.

The midnight air watches with bated breath as Sukuna rolls on top of you, his towering frame rousing the tingle between your legs.

“I know your method of distraction,” he whispers against the skin of your neck. His belly mouth kisses the skin of your inner thigh, licking its lips at the promise of what you might offer if you’re willing. “Considering you are no novice, one might think that you keep secrets from your King often.”

Your affronted laugh dissolves into a sigh as both stomach and Sukuna adorn your skin with wet kisses—one along the vein of your pelvis while the other works at the skin behind your ear. “O-one might think,” you manage, gasping as his mouth finds the pulse in your neck, “that my King is simply impatient for Christmas morning.”

“It is already past midnight,” he growls at the feel of your touch drifting lower, his cocks already throbbing and oozing precum. “Merry Christmas.”

“A proper Christmas morning!” you correct with a chortle, smacking his chest playfully. He hums noncommittally, the sound vibrating through you both, possessive and yet tender in a way that only you are privy to. “A few more hours. Let me wake up properly.”

With those final words, you promptly roll over, denying him any more sensual touch that could ignite the early morning. Sukuna, used to your defiance, simply grumbles at your withdrawal, choosing instead to press searing kisses along the naked skin of your back. They ignite the embers in your belly but are not persistent enough to tempt you further.

“A domain expansion,” he insists, inhaling the perfume at the dip of your spine, lips brushing the soft skin there.

“I can’t even do that.” Your voice is heavy, the dredges of sleep finally pulling at your consciousness.

“More blood cookies.”

You remain silent, using his solemn guesses as music to lull you back to sleep.

Sukuna can feel your presence even deep in sleep, his cursed energy wound tightly around you like a second skin, always attuned to your warmth, your breath, the way you shift beneath the covers. So when that connection shivers—when his energy touches only empty space—his crimson eyes snap open. Your side of the bed is still warm, a ghost of you lingering on his silk sheets.

He can still feel you in the estate, so he rises slowly, surveying his chamber. He takes in the transformation--the pine and silk ribbons that are around the mantle now present in his chambers, and the smell of cider and blood cookies that still wafts in the air around him. Resting along one wall is a beautiful vanity carved from marble with obsidian-lined mirrors and velvet surfaces adorned with your plethora of fragrances. The table near his window is littered with books, a speaker—another mortal instrument—rests quietly, no classical music that you enjoy playing.

His room—once untouchable, dark, and sacred—is now infused with you. It should feel like a violation, his personal sanctum defiled with the touch of a mortal. And yet.

His body is no longer cold in the halls because you thrive in warmth. His servants may bow in fear to him, but they smile at you. Shadows, once tools of terror, are now a source of protection and amusement, a manic gleam of fascination with the otherwordly preventing you from being fearful.

His emotions are still a mystery, but slowly unfurling like petals that have been sleeping for many winters. Anything besides strength and power, besides determination and tenacity are weak—should be weak. But you feel these emotions plenty, and to Ryomen Sukuna, you are far from weak.

The soft yellow lights from the pine tree spill against the floor, welcoming his bare feet as he enters the large living room that has come to life because of you and for you. He won’t admit it out loud, the pride that surges through his chest like a rushing wave when he looks at the tree. A pagan symbol meant to honor a god that is not himself, willingly brought into his domain by his own hand, a rare sight in his forest that only his eye could catch. He cleaved it. He carried it upon his shoulders. He cupped the approval in your eyes like water in a shallow pool in a drying desert, sacred and coveted.

His efforts have become yours, decorated in tinsel and ornaments, in obnoxiously bright lights and snow that will never melt. And you sit next to it, your silhouette glowing against the roaring fireplace, your gaze looking up at what he’s allowed you to have. You noticed his presence long ago, but you remain transfixed with the tree, a soft smile gracing your features as he draws closer.

“It is far too early,” he rumbles, his voice gentle but heavy in the silent Christmas air. “Come back to bed.”

You huff in reply, not bothering to offer words even as he sinks down next to you. His arms crossed over his chest, his legs folding in to sit with grace on the fur-covered floor. This close, he can smell another fragrance that you collect, a smoky Oud that coats your skin like a second skin.

It’s one of his favorites, yet another thing he will not admit, but you know. You know from the way he buries his face in your neck at night, his chambers shrouded in darkness beside the slanting of moonlight on his sheets, his cursed energy caressing your skin in appreciation.

“It’s a great tree, you know,” you sigh, wistfully. You hope to keep the tree up and lit long after Christmas passes. It’s a wonderful sight, a depiction of a past life before you became aware of the unknown, of curses and spirits, sorcery and realms besides Heaven and Hell. To see it now, in the domain of a powerful king, shining brightly as if the one who cut it down did not have four arms and eyes. “It’s strong…resilient.”

“Of course it is. Who do you take me for?” he snaps, tone not holding any heat as his sharp gaze looks at you from head to toe. He leans imperceptibly into you when you laugh, a sound that shakes from your robe-covered chest and into the warm air, the shadows catching it as if they are fireflies in the night.

You finally pull your gaze from the tree, looking to Sukuna and he refuses to let you hear the hitch in his breath. He refuses to tighten his jaw or let you hear the click of bone as he fights the urge to openly bask in your gaze. “I have something for you.”

You grab a box beneath the tree, the only object that decorates the skirt. You’re climbing into his large lap before he can protest, willingly invading his space without fear of the consequences. For others, a swift death. For you, a subconscious shift in his form, one of his arms falling behind you and hitching along your hip to steady you on his thigh.

“I hope you like it,” you muse, shrugging with indifference to shield your anticipation. “I know "human sentiments" are not your specialty.”

The hands not holding your back trace along the red ribbon, silky soft and tied neatly by you. But before you can push the box more insistently into his hold, his hands slide under yours, firmly stilling your movements.

One of his hands reaches behind his back, his form shifting closer before he presents you with his own box. It’s smaller than yours, crafted in dark, polished wood, the flames from the fireplace glimmering along the surface.

“How can I let you meddle and not have anything to counter it with?” It’s all Sukuna offers, tone low and edged with something warmer than usual. He places the box in your hands, his gaze heavy on your face as though waiting for a reaction. Truly, the thought of him getting you something had not crossed your mind. Sukuna seemed more than willing to put up with your holiday antics if only to get something in return. So the weight of the box in your hands, cool against your palm, feels substantial.

Your fingers tremble as you lift the lid, the dark wood creaking softly. Nestled inside a bed of rich blue velvet, is something that steals the breath from your lungs. It gleams against the firelight as you pick it up, its crystal surface refracting shards of gold and crimson that dance across your body. The shape is elegant yet otherworldly, the surface etched with markings that you’ve come to see throughout his estate. A stopper made of black Onyx crowns it, carved into a teardrop that you pinch and pull to open.

The scent curls into the air, smoothing beneath your nostrils in a delicate yet commanding embrace. It’s sharp at first, with notes of what you recognize as juniper and lemon, fresh and crisp like the frost that curls on the windows in your chamber. You’re an expert in fragrance, so it doesn’t take you long to detect the undercurrent of bergamot and pepper, adding an edge that’s reminiscent of Sukuna’s power—lurking beneath the surface.

It seems as if the notes are never-ending. Pine needles and incense weave into a rich, earthy warmth, like the forest you both walked through to cut down the decorated pine that rests behind you. Amber and balsam provide a sweetness that lingers with its base notes and a touch of vanilla. Finally, the richness of cinnamon adds a spicy conclusion, as if kissing your skin before it fades into the morning air.

“You didn’t,” you begin, mouth suddenly dry, your eyes quite the opposite. “You made this…?”

“Do you think anyone else could, Ryu?” he counters, his tone holding a rare softness that you wish you were more levelheaded to preserve forever. A hand not resting on your back drifts along your shoulder blades, caressing in a mixture of observance and reverence. “It is yours.”

Like everything else in this domain.

That is what he wants to add. Is what curls at the tip of his tongue. But he uses your fluttering eyelashes to distract that urge that throbs in his chest. Uses the sight of you resting the perfume carefully back in its velvet encasing before closing the wooden box as if it might break.

“It’s beautiful,” you finally whisper, uncaring of how shaky you sound. The gift is uniquely Sukuna, deeply reflecting his essence but still having you in mind. “Thank you.”

He offers that characteristic hum, rumbling through your body and clenching around your heart with a force he’s not yet ready to acknowledge. His belly mouth curves into a smug grin, but his eyes are still on you as if searching for something.

“Another example of my indulgence that you mistake for generosity.”

The way his cursed energy hums around you, warm and protective, tells you otherwise. And it only serves to make you laugh, finally wiping the tears from your cheeks and gently setting the wooden box on the fur rug beneath you both.

“Uh huh,” you tease, snickering at his frown you can see right through. You finally pick up your box, the surface warmed by the fire, now resting in his hands. The teasing air around you both falls to the wayside, hushed anticipation taking its place.

He’s spent days pestering you about what he would get, and now, with you on his lap and his massive hands cradling the box with unexpected gentleness, his curiosity morphs into something else. A prize he’s excited to have and now afraid to open. Not in fear—Sukuna has no room for fear—but in anticipation.

It takes everything in you not to snatch the box and open it yourself, but eventually, he does, and the purse of his lips and the narrowing of his eyes fall before you like a book as old as time finally opening.

The silk is as dark as the shadows that roam these halls, shimmering like oil in water as it slides along Sukuna’s thick fingers. To anyone else, the material would simply be silk. But to Sukuna, he can feel the cursed energy that pulses along it, no doubt stitched together with a cursed thread strong enough to embrace him and yet still soft to the touch.

You had no way to conjure or control cursed energy to weave into the fabric, so you had to turn to Uraume for help. Their frosty hands had guided yours, harnessing the cursed energy necessary for you as you wove the threads, ensuring the haori could hold the weight of Sukuna’s power while remaining as delicate as the intentions behind it.

The silk mirrors the intricate markings on his skin, its edges dyed in gradients of shadow and blood.

“It’s a Haori,” you finally speak, soft and given space so he can observe his gift without hurry. “It’s all you really wear, so I thought crafting something of my own would be….nice.”

Words gather on his tongue, and then scatter like leaves in a storm, too feeble to express the weight of what he feels. He knows that a simple hum of approval won’t be enough—not this time. Not for you. But as he readies himself to speak, opening his mouth just so, his breath catches when he looks inside one of the sleeves.

The inner lining is adorned with ancient symbols sewn in patterns only he would recognize, the same ones you’ve felt him trace in the air around you when he thinks you’re sleeping, offering protection for when he cannot be near you. They shimmer faintly, their glow deepening in the shadowed folds of silk and fading when touched by light—a testament to the darkness he commands and the solace he finds within it.

“Ryu—”

“At least put it on,” you interrupt, voice slightly shaky and betraying your exposed nerves. You hold the garment delicately, taking it from him and helping each arm through the sleeves. The silk moves like smoke around his massive form, designed to accommodate while maintaining the elegant lines that befit a being of his stature. Your eyes are on his skin, focused on the hem of his lapels as you trace over it and rest your hand on his chest.

“There,” you whisper, smiling but not looking up at him. His heart is steady beneath your palm, not fluttering like a bird in a cage, and you’re not sure whether to be upset that your gift doesn’t make his heart race. “It looks good on you.”

It fits him perfectly and thrums with a warmth that echoes the temperature blooming in his chest. That three-letter phrase—that elusive word that’s made his lip curl in disgust since the beginning of time, now pounds in his ears from the garment that sits on his skin.

It’s not just a garment—it’s an acknowledgment of who he is in his truest form, a declaration that you see his beauty in both his power and his evolution. The way it drapes over his marked skin, how it seems to pulse with its own life in response to his cursed energy—these details speak to your understanding of him, how you’ve learned to…love both the demon and the subtle changes your presence has wrought in him.

“You see me,” he finally speaks, uncharacteristically hushed. You see him—demon and protector, destroyer and creator, ancient force and the being who has learned to nestle mortal joy in hands only meant for destruction.

They’ve always been directed at you. Not from him. He’s never said them before. He’s never really known how, and part of him has always been envious of how the words can fall so effortlessly from your lips.

He’s never said them before. And yet now, at this moment, it feels like if he doesn’t act, the opportunity will be lost forever, forced down into the pit of his belly for who knows how long.

You hold your breath when you feel one of his hands cradle your cheek, massive enough so that his fingers card through your dark hair.

“And I see you, Ryu.”

The words feel like a promise. Like they will probably be rare but will only hold more and more weight as time goes by. And that’s okay for you. To be in his presence. To open him up and show him that he is capable of something gentle enough to hold you. That’s your gift that you will never need to wait until the 25th of December for.

His belly mouth is unusually silent, but his cursed energy tightens around you like a caress. Warm and vibrating, a protective weight that will remain around you for as long as you breathe. It speaks volumes that his pride won’t quite let him voice.

You lift a hand to rest on his cheek, tracing along the smooth skin that gives way to the rough texture that wraps around his right side. His two eyes on this side are more narrowed, encapsulated in the hard surface around it but still oozing dominance that could make others cower and definitely not come closer like you do. You cup his jaw before finally meeting his gaze—soft meeting a harshness that will never affect you, love meeting the beginnings of the same that linger beneath crimson pools.

“I see you too, Ryomen.”

The sound of his name makes his chest tighten, the organ behind his sternum pounding irregularly for only a second before falling back in line. His given name is forbidden for any who wish to speak it in likeness—he will only tolerate the name ‘Ryomen’ if it is wrapped in fear, or if it falls from your lips.

The silence lingers for what feels like forever, his hands holding you on his lap while he lets you map his face. Your heart flutters, happiness pulsing through your veins with every beat, cataloging every aspect of this moment in your mind forever.

“There is one mortal tradition,” he finally muses, his voice carrying that particular note of mischief that always makes your breath catch, “that I find…acceptable.”

It’s the kind of tone that usually follows lips along your skin and hands between your thighs, reminiscent of a man who can only bask in vulnerability for moments before shifting to something heady and tinged with lust.

Before you can question his motives, one of his hands lifts to hover above you both. His cursed energy manifests between his fingers, dark and potent, morphing itself into something that makes you snort in delighted surprise. Dark tendrils grow slowly from the mass of energy between his fingers, twisted and mangled to form branches, its leaves pitch black with berries that gleam like drops of blood.

A twisted version of mistletoe, the only representation that would be acceptable to someone like Sukuna.

“Of course, you’d make it look menacing,” you tease, giggling softly as his other arms draw you closer to his chest. His belly mouth snickers from below you, ready to join his host in whatever is planned. One of your fingers traces the metal of his gauges, your eyes narrowing in playful indifference.

“Then I advise you to have one ready for next year.”

Your heart stops, lungs seizing in your chest as the words tunnel into one ear and out the other. Next year. The idea hangs in the air, fragile and precious—proof that even Ryomen Sukuna, with all his arrogance and dominance, is willing to entertain a future with you.

The mistletoe pulses above you, casting reddish shadows across your faces, and you don’t need to think any longer as you lean in to slide your lips along his. His hands widen the expanse of your back, your robe slipping off your shoulders to hang in the crevice of your elbows, the heat from the pulsing mistletoe spreading over your chest. The naked feel of you against his torso pleases him, and beneath the prideful smirk against your mouth, beneath the snicker from his belly, you taste that four-letter word in his mouth, siphoning as much of it as you can before you pull away and rest your forehead against his.

“Merry Christmas,” you whisper against his lips, your body warming even further despite the heat from the fireplace.

He offers that hum—that characteristic hum that means so much.

Acquiescence.

Agreement.

I see you.

The mistletoe falls to the floor, crunching beneath your weight as Sukuna lays you on the fur, hands tracing your waist, sliding along your spine, hiking your legs around him. He doesn’t speak, content to admire you beneath him—a mortal without cursed energy who loves perfume, the paranormal, and classical music. A mortal who hates spiders, but loves Gothic architecture, monsters, and the many books that line his walls.

A mortal who has crawled beneath his skin and nestled there, unwilling to leave. And he’s too ashamed to admit that he gave up trying to pry you from inside of him a long time ago.

You throw your arms around his neck, impatient and tired of his staring, carding your fingers through deceptively soft pink hair to pull him down so that you can once again honor this particular tradition—one that, like everything else between you, has been transformed into something uniquely yours.

Merry Christmas, @grimmweepers !!!!

[sericasong]

Festive・✦ drabble

adjective - joyous; merry.・✦

Our cheeks are nice and rosy and comfy and cozy are we We're snuggled up together like two birds of a feather would be!

Christmas with Keigo is remarkably quiet for the Winged Hero's reputation, but that doesn't make him any less jolly.

Winter has never been his most beloved season, mainly just because the man's never had a particular reason to favor it. But the addition of you to his life came with rose-colored glasses that turn red and green in December, and he doesn't have to fake an answer when he's asked about his plans during interviews.

His nesting instincts go a little off the charts, though it's hard to tell if it's them or his delight with every silly snowman mug that has at least five of them lining his cabinets in different colors. He adds tiny bells to his red earrings; they're without ringers, to keep his stealth intact, but the larger ones on his new slippers certainly aren't. It becomes a daily occurrence to hear him jingle around his apartment.

The event itself is less a show of religious belief and more an excuse for him to dote on you. An entire day focused on cherishing loved ones? On gifts and cheesy music and spending time together? And he gets new ways to show affection for the whole month beforehand?

Oh, it's his new favorite day of the year (aside from your birthday).

You pretend not to notice that he somehow pays extra attention to what you eye in stores during shopping trips, making his list and checking it... five times a day, in all honesty.

He can't be really blamed for the way he loves to spoil you, but he turns a pretty shade of red when you joke about him being a sugar daddy anyways.

Of course he treats you on Christmas day, even more than he always does– wakes you up with breakfast, pulls the chair out before you sit, asks you "Tea or coffee?" with a fake customer service voice like a flight attendant as he holds out eggnog in one hand and hot chocolate in the other.

For as often as you've heard the songs he spends the day humming, it's cute to see him so excited about the holiday. His eyes nearly sparkle when he asks if you can watch some Hallmark movies, so genuinely endeared and invested in the clichéd films that it gives you ideas for dates in the future.

And then, as expected, there's the pile of gifts you've been politely ignoring since you'd first woken up. It's a good thing that you'd assumed he would go all-out, because the assumption proves very much correct. Keigo watches you open gifts with such wide-eyed excitement that anyone else would think he's the one getting presents. "Babe, open this one next!! I know you'll love it!"

It's a softer ordeal when it comes to your gifts for him. He uses meticulous care to unwrap every single item, as if losing too much decorative paper would be a grave mark on his honor, holds every new possession with possessiveness and wonder.

You bought that for him? Just for him? Specifically for him?

Like you, it's really, truly his?

Well, it's no surprise that each present to him is returned by a barrage of kisses to you.

The holiday makes him appreciate you even more, he marvels quietly to himself when he's cuddled up with you under a blanket at the end of all the seasonal festivities. He's gained a new love for the holidays and a new love for you, a new warmth to his home and a new person to serenade with sappy love songs in ridiculous sweaters.

Baby, it's cold outside...

[emsprovisions]

❄️ Day 24 - A Very Royal Christmas ❄️

🎁 Today’s fic is dedicated to the Tarlos Fandom 💕

Summary: A modern-day prince au where TK and Carlos were childhood friends, who have become estranged until now.

Word count: 1244

Dear Tarlos fandom,

We have reached the final day! I have had so much fun crafting these stories to post each day and I love seeing all your reactions to being gifted a fic and just all your sweet encouragement in general. You have all been so wonderful and welcoming to me and I see how kind you are to each other as well. I feel so lucky to be in such an amazing online community with so many other kind people who love tarlos. I am so grateful for the friends I’ve made this year because of this show. You all made 2024 a much better year than it would’ve been for me, and for that, I want to say thank you. Happy holidays, everyone!

With love, Emily

24 Days of Tarlos Masterpost

Prince Carlos has been staring at Prince TK all night at the winter ball, hoping he just might catch the eligible bachelor all by himself.

Carlos just wants a moment of the prince’s attention for a dance. Just a simple dance. TK is the crown prince of his country, and while Carlos isn’t next in line for the throne of his own country, he would be remiss to assume TK would ever spare a second glance at him.

He hasn’t since they were kids anyways. 

They used to be best friends, the two young princes were inseparable as playmates when they were children. Now however, one would think they hated each other for the lengths they’d go to avoid one another at functions such as these. 

Carlos doesn’t really understand where it all went wrong. One day, TK was his best friend, and the next day, he wasn’t. 

The prince in question is currently laughing with a few dukes and duchesses, picking a canapé off a passing tray. Carlos watches him from where he stands with Lady Iris, one of his other longest friends. 

“Stop staring, your highness,” Iris teases. “You might burn a hole right through him.”

Carlos rolls his eyes, grabbing a glass of champagne from a waiter’s tray and turning to his friend. “I’m not staring,” the prince insists. “I’m trying to find my nerve.”

“Your nerve?” Iris raises an eyebrow at him.

“You know,” Carlos glances around to ensure no one is listening to their conversation before he hisses, “to ask him to dance.”

That makes Iris raise another eyebrow at him. “You’re going to ask the prince to dance?”

“Shh!” Carlos’s eyes widen. “Not so loud.”

“Oh my god, Carlos,” Iris grabs Carlos by the sleeve and drags him to a quieter area of the ballroom. “You are grown and acting like a child. TK doesn’t want to be your friend, he’s made that very clear. You need to get over your schoolboy crush on him and move on.”

“I deserve to know why he hates me,” Carlos huffs. “It’s been ten years and he’s still ignoring me. He can’t ignore me here.”

Iris just shakes her head, raising one of her hands. “You know what, I can’t watch this trainwreck. You are my best friend, I can’t watch you make a fool of yourself over a boy.”

Carlos rolls his eyes. “I’m not going to make a fool of myself. It’s a winter ball, you’re expected to dance with people, even if you don’t like them.”

Iris’s eyes only widen and she stares at Carlos like he’s grown two heads. 

“What?” Carlos scowls. 

It’s only then Carlos realizes Iris is actually staring at a point over his shoulder. He whirls around and comes face to face with Prince TK himself. 

“Oh, your highness, I didn’t see you there…” Carlos stares into bright, green eyes he’s been in love with as long for as he can remember.

TK just smiles at him, all suave and charismatic. “Prince Carlos,” he says, holding up a hand. “Would you do me the honor of a dance?”

Carlos stares at TK, stunned, he glances backwards at Iris who shoos at him with wide eyes. “Um, sure, yeah.”

TK leads Carlos out onto the dance floor before pulling him in by the waist and beginning to lead. Carlos’s own hand settles at TK’s elbow as their remaining hands clasp together. It’s the closest Carlos has been to TK in years and it’s making his head spin in a way neither the champagne or dancing ever could.

“I heard of your father’s passing earlier this year, I’m so sorry, Carlos,” TK says softly.

Carlos furrows his brows. “Thank you, but is this just a pity dance?”

TK’s eyes snap back to Carlos’s. “Is that what you think of me?”

“I don’t know what to think of you, TK,” Carlos shakes his head. “You’ve refused to speak to me for years when we used to share everything.”

 “I didn’t cut you out,” TK looks away sheepishly. “I ran away.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carlos huffs.

“Look, you have every right to be pissed,” TK shakes his head. “You have every right to hate me. But it wasn’t until your coming out story this year that I thought…”

“Thought what??”

TK’s gaze finds Carlos’s once more as he softly says, “That I might have a chance with you.”

Now Carlos is even more confused. He’d always known TK is gay. He wasn’t shy about admitting it, unlike Carlos, who always kept that part of himself locked up tight. This year, he felt brave enough to come out on his own accord, because he was tired of the endless marriage proposals and requests from advisors for him to find a nice girl to marry. People get antsy when a handsome prince nears his thirties without a ring on his finger, evidently.

Carlos stares back at TK. “I still don’t understand.”

“Carlos,” TK smiles at the prince sadly. “I’ve been in love with you forever, and I never thought you could even possibly like me back. So I ran. It wasn’t right, and I hate that I lost such an important friendship over it, but I was terrified of losing you regardless.”

“So you made the choice for me.”

“I made the choice for you,” TK agrees.

Carlos glances around the noisy, crowded ballroom. “Can we go somewhere more private?”

TK nods and leads Carlos from the dance floor and towards a quiet balcony that overlooks the grounds, beautifully lit up with Christmas lights over all the shrubbery in the gardens.

“Wow, it’s beautiful out here,” Carlos remarks as he leans up against a stone railing. It’s cold, but he’s warm from the drinks, and dancing, and the man beside him.

TK leans against the railing next to him, head turned to look at Carlos. “It sure is,” he murmurs softly.

Carlos catches TK’s gaze and shakes his head. “You’re impossible, you know.”

“I wouldn’t deserve you.”

“I’ve been in love with you since we were kids,” Carlos finds himself admitting.

It’s TK’s turn to stare at Carlos in shock. “Come again?”

“It’s true,” Carlos shakes his head with a soft little smile. “Maybe I’m crazy, but even though you walked out of my life, I’ve still thought about you. I’ve never been able to get you out of my head.”

“What does that mean, Carlos?” TK shakes his head, staring at Carlos.

Carlos thought he needed to be brave to ask TK to dance, but the real show of courage comes from this moment. 

“It means, I’d like to kiss you, your highness,” he grins, biting his bottom lip to try and contain his smile. He takes a tentative step forward. “And I hope you might allow me to.”

TK’s eyes dazzle from the glow of the moonlight and the Christmas lights all around. He nods, stepping into Carlos and circling his arms around his neck. “You’re really giving me a chance after all I’ve done to you?”

“I really am.”

The kiss is pure magic, like something out of a movie, as Carlos presses his lips to TK’s. Butterflies dance in the prince’s stomach as he pulls the other prince ever closer, wondering if he’s possibly crazy. He’s unsure how this will even work, or where they’ll go from here, but Carlos decides to be brave anyway. Despite it all, he just can’t let TK go.

[thoughtfulfiction]

The P Word

Author’s Note: Two fics in two days?

In 2013, Joe sent a dm to a recruiting analyst for scout.com, asking which camps he should attend because he was flying under the national radar.

Most four star recruits get about 20 college offers. He had 12.

At Ohio State he sat on the bench for three years, only gaining attention as a scout team player who would later have to graduate in three years just so he could transfer and get some playing time elsewhere.

That same scout team player would become the best player in college football and a Heisman trophy winner and the number one pick in the 2020 NFL Draft. A few years after that fateful private message to Dave Burk.

Robin Burrow had been there the entire time. Through every shining moment and the times that seemed rather dark. She drove two hours to do his laundry just to make sure he was physically and mentally healthy when he lived in Columbus, has attended every game since he began playing sports, made him snickers salad when he tore his ACL…and when he tore his scapholunate ligament in his wrist. All in all, she’s been a constant presence in the midst of all of the mayhem. To be frank, there’s nowhere else in the world she’d rather be than between him and anything that could possibly serve to harm him or cause him any pain, no matter how old he is.

That included protecting him from himself.

The last few months had been filled with joy. After the news of his engagement, the wedding planning process had been smooth. You and Robin along with your mom, had gone to several appointments together and Joe had even added his input in most of the details without you feeling like you had to twist his arm and force him to participate.

You were now in the home stretch of the most important day of your lives. Less than two months from now you’d be saying “I do” to the love of your life. And Robin had taken her role as future mother in-law very seriously. You knew that Joe was a mama’s boy, his brothers much older than him with their own mom, and it was clear to anyone with eyes that he was Robin’s pride and joy. But not in a creepy way that would get them to star in a TLC show. It was just very evident that she was proud of him and his achievements and that she didn’t mess around when it came down to business.

After one of your dress fittings, she pulled you aside. “There’s one quick thing I need to mention to you. You’ll be getting a formal document in the mail in the next few days. Nothing huge, just a formality that Peter and the team drafted up for you to sign. I hate the word prenup but that’s essentially what this is.” She said in a matter of fact way. “We just need to make sure to dot our i’s and cross our t’s if that makes sense. Get the boring stuff out of the way so that we can focus on showering you and Joey with our love on your special day.”

“No that makes complete sense, just send it over and I’ll sign whatever you need me to. Thank you Robin seriously, for everything. You’ve made planning this entire thing a breeze.”

She shakes her head with a genuine smile, giving you a warm hug. “This has been an honor, I’m so happy for the both of you sweetie. I’ll see you in a few days for brunch at your house? The kids are so excited they won’t stop talking about it.”

“Yes absolutely, I can’t wait either it’s been so long since we’ve gotten both families together it’ll be really fun.”

There weren’t many opportunities for your family to interact with Joe’s and vice versa, unless everyone met at a football game but that wasn’t exactly quality family bonding. That felt more like a collective screaming match where the adults pregamed with beer and the kids wore his jersey. Most of them didn’t really know what was going on in the actual game. So you and Joe were going to host both sets of parents, all of your siblings and their kids in order for everyone to really spend time together before the wedding.

A few days later, you were finalizing the menu with the catering company when Joe came home.

“It’s gonna be like Cheaper by the Dozen in here tomorrow,” he notes, grabbing a Body Armour from the fridge. “Are we sure we’re ready for this?”

“We kinda have to be. Should we do smoked salmon or shrimp crostinis?” You held up one of each and let him examine them. He snagged the salmon one first and took a bite then did the same with the shrimp.

“Definitely the salmon. What time is everyone getting here?” The catering people jot down their last notes and head out the door after you and Joe thanked them.

You could tell he was going to need time to mentally prepare in case he got overstimulated. “They’ll be here at 1pm, so you can probably get an early workout in and take a nap afterwards,” walking over to him on the other side of the counter, holding his face in your hands. “I know you get cranky when you’re tired and Uncle Joe needs to be at his best tomorrow because the kids will need a QB for their flag football game.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, sticking out his lips that are begging to be kissed. You happily grant his wish, pressing your lips against his, giving him a quick smooch. He asks for a few more, about to get lost in a full make out session when a stack of papers on the counter catch his eye. Joe pulls back so abruptly that your face smacks against his chest.

“Sorry baby,” he cradles your head, reaching around you to grab the piece of paper that’s on top. You take that as your cue to go after his second apology for nearly giving you a concussion. That chest is a brick wall.

The more he skims the words, the tighter his grip gets on the little sheet and the confused look on his face deepens. “Um…what is this?”

“What is what?” You give him a look that matches his energy.

He holds up the paper. “This. What is this? Where did you get it from?”

You look around the room to make sure you aren’t getting Punk’d. “Wait—are you being serious?”

“Do I look like I’m joking,” it wasn’t a question. He’s legitimately starting to look upset. “Who gave this to you?”

“Joe,” you let out a dry chuckle, “your mom did. Said it was a formality and that I should sign it and give it to her so she can hand it off to Peter so your lawyers can process it.” When your fiancé continues to stand there motionless in the middle of the room, that’s when it hits you. “Did—did you not know about this?”

He usually has something to say about everything, so watching him silently shake his head is a little scary. Joe places the first page of the prenuptial agreement on the table with a heavy sigh, visibly trying to compose himself. The man had the patience of a saint, known to have blow ups on the field but that was Football Joe. Off the field Joe was calm and rarely ever let things get to him. You’d probably only heard him yell twice in the entire time you’ve been together. And now he was dead quiet. You didn’t know what to do with that.

“Joe, your mom is just trying to protect you. Get this out of the way so that we can—”

“Please don’t try to defend her right now,” his tone was laced with venom, a seething anger you hadn’t seen before and weren’t too keen on getting familiar with. “I don’t like that this was just drafted, printed and handed to you without my permission. She and Peter shouldn’t have done that. And my mom definitely shouldn’t have ambushed you with this.”

Now he was being dramatic. “Robin didn’t ambush me! She told me a couple days ago and I thought you knew so I didn’t mention it.”

“I would never do that to you,” he says with a pain in his voice that makes your chest clench. “WE, you and I should be talking about this. Not my mom and Peter. Jesus.” He rested his arms on the counter, running his hands through his hair.

You hated seeing him get worked up like this, crossing the room again to place a comforting hand on his back. “Why don’t you talk to her tomorrow, I’m sure she didn’t mean to upset you. She most likely just thought she would do this for you so you didn’t need to worry about it.”

“That’s the thing, this isn’t something she should be doing for me. We’re getting married. You’re going to be my wife. There’s no reason she needs to be handing you documents on my behalf like you’re some fucking stranger. I don’t care how ‘busy’ I am. You come first.” You can feel the tension in his muscles even when he stands up to his normal height. He’s really trying to keep it together, giving you an empty kiss on the cheek before heading into his office to cool off. An hour later you head up to check on him, assuming he has his headphones on and can’t hear you, you find that the door is locked.

Tomorrow’s brunch is going to be very interesting to say the least.

Joe surprised you by being in bed by the time you came upstairs to get ready to go to sleep. You thought for sure he’d be on a run to clear his mind. As soon as you climbed in next to him he put his phone away, wrapping his arms around you and giving your body a squeeze.

Whatever private meeting he had with himself must have done the trick because he was actually letting you be the big spoon for once. His touch was soft and intentional, the previously icy aura was liquified and only warm and cuddly Joe remained. “Are you okay?” You asked him and he nodded without looking at you. He just interlocked your fingers in his before sitting up.

“Switch me.” You knew the little spoon wouldn’t last long. “That’s better,” he sighs kissing your head, feeling at home with your arm draped across his waist.

After a few seconds of silence he mutters, “I’m so sorry this is happening. Are you sure you want to sign up for a lifetime of this?”

You look up to meet Joe’s gaze to see if he’s trying to be funny. “A lifetime of you? I can’t think of anything I would want more. The rest of it is just extra, the good and the bad. As long as I have you I don’t care.”

His shoulders sag once again in relief, “good.” Joe peppers a few kisses on your neck, making his way up to your jaw, taking his sweet time until he got to your lips. A joyous hum leaves his mouth as the kiss grows deeper, each swipe of his tongue against yours makes you feel dizzy…love drunk. Nothing compares to the way that Joe kisses you, sensually careful but hungry at the same time, almost as if this is the last thing he’ll ever get to do. This kiss is different, it’s a promise to always protect you, to never let the outside noise sway what his heart knows is true. He’s found the one person in the world that consistently makes his heart sing and no one—not even his mom—will have the final say. And he was going to make that very clear.

When Joe sluggishly came down the stairs the next day rubbing his eyes after his nap wearing a hoodie and cargo pants, you were just thankful he wasn’t in sweats.

“Hi there Sleeping Beauty, I’ve already gotten a few texts that most of them are about five minutes out.”

“Great,” he grunts, parking himself on the couch, “I’m starving,” he scoots around trying to subtly adjust himself.

Joe stares at you , running his hand down your thigh. “Hungry…for food right?” You give him a pointed look.

“Yeah, yeah for food. What did you think I meant?” He laughs as he catches the pillow you launch his way and scoot far enough away that he can’t grab you.

“Don’t. Today really needs to be a stress free day. Can you promise you will be nice and not yell at your mother?” And with that statement he is no longer in the mood.

“I will not yell at my mom,” he crosses his arms over his chest with a scowl only like a youngest child could. “Can’t promise I’ll be nice.”

Before you can negotiate any further the doorbell rings and your first guests arrive. Nieces and nephews come running in, suffocating you with hugs and the youngest one tugging at Joe’s legs demanding to be picked up. Less than 30 minutes later the entire backyard is filled with kids playing tag, drinking juice boxes while the adults enjoyed the appetizer spread.

Joe wasn’t making it blatantly obvious that he was mad but he wasn’t exactly hiding it either. He kept the greeting with his parents short, keeping his distance throughout the afternoon focused on entertaining the kids and playing the perfect host.

“I just realized I never asked,” Codie, one of Joe’s sister in laws speaks up. “Where are you two going for your honeymoon?”

“Bora Bora! I can’t wait,” you respond, topping off her wine glass.

His brother Dan’s ears perk up. “We were thinking about going there for an anniversary trip. Are you guys staying in a resort?”

Joe shakes his head, “I got us an underwater bungalow. The view is supposed to be insane.”

“Yeah I bet,” your dad notes.

“Take lots of pictures,” his dad adds in.

He waits for a second taking a mental note of his mom’s silence throughout the conversation, nudging you to make sure that you’re on the same page. By the time everyone was gone you needed something stronger than wine. Robin and your mom insisted on helping you clean up but you let them know that the caterers were coming back to grab everything. As you bid your family goodbye and thanked them for coming, your mom whispered in your ear, letting you know that the man inside was a keeper. You responded by telling her you intended on keeping him.

Once the door was fully closed you could breathe a sigh of relief…until you heard Robin ask Joe what was going on with him.

Here we go.

Joe didn’t respond. He just went up to his office and came right back down with the prenup in hand. “Care to explain?”

“Oh,” she looked rather unfazed, “Peter and I thought that—”

“And that’s where you went wrong,” Joe interrupts, voice surprisingly even. “You and Peter don’t get to ‘think.’ You don’t get to do whatever you ‘think’ I need. You have to ask me.”

You can tell she’s visibly taken aback at how this has gone. “It was not at all my intention to go behind your back. You’re just very busy and now with wedding planning and everything else, it just made sense to get it put into place so you’d have one less thing to worry about.”

“Mom, I get that. But you crossed the line here. I’m an adult who would’ve liked to have a mature conversation with the person I am goin go to marry about a topic that is extremely uncomfortable for everyone. It is not your job to play the middle man here. There is no middle man. This is between y/n and I.”

The tension in the air was getting a little too thick for your liking. You stood next to Joe, running your hand down his arm trying to diffuse the situation as much as possible. “Okay I think you’ve made your point. Robin, I am not at all upset with you, this can all be resolved rather—”

“I am upset with you mom. There was no reason to hand over that document without at least giving me a phone call,” Joe counters, starting to stand in front of you a bit like he’s physically shielding you from her.

“Now Joey I don’t think your mom meant any harm,” Joe’s dad speaks up seeing his wife almost in tears. “Why don’t we all just take a breather here.”

You nod in agreement.

“I’m so sorry, to both of you. In hindsight that wasn’t the best way to go about it but like you said this is uncomfortable. I thought keeping it casual would remove some of that awkwardness and I just made it worse. I really am sorry.”

Joe still seemed unmoved but you really didn’t think she needed to apologize this much. He just told her he appreciated the sentiments but that she needs to recognize that’s he’s an adult, telling them goodnight and immediately heading upstairs.

You’re left to walk them out alone, giving them both hugs goodbye. “Honey I’m so sorry,” Robin states again, “I never want you to think that I don’t love you or that I was intentionally going behind Joe’s back. I was just making sure we have all of our bases covered so we aren’t sweating the small stuff on your big day. I hope you can forgive me.”

“You’re totally fine, I understand. And I agree. I think he just got a little freaked out at the reminder that his life is abnormal. He wants things to be simple and sometimes they just aren’t. That probably stressed him out a little. Or a lot.”

It feels good to leave their tense interaction with her smiling. Even though it didn’t reach her eyes like usual, it was still a small step forward.

“How can you not be upset about this?” Joe asks after brushing his teeth.

You focused on what was going on at your sink, taking your time to complete your skincare routine. “Because I see where both of you are coming from. You have every right to be angry at her for doing this behind your back. But at the same time I understand why she feels like she should get a jump on protecting your assets.”

“Protect my assets…” he scoffs, “…from you? What’s mine is going to be yours.” He hands you a towel after you wash your face, having memorized the steps at this point.

“Yeah ok, legally. But your accomplishments and accolades are yours. That’s how you got here and your mom saw all the blood, sweat and tears that went into you being in the position you are today. She may have overstepped a little but you’re still her baby at then end of the day and sometimes it’s hard for them to recognize that they have adult children who are fully capable of making their own decisions.” He grabs the moisturizer off the counter and places it in your hand as you laugh, whispering thank you. “My mom has done the same to me, not to this extent obviously because we’re in completely different tax brackets but—they just want to make sure we’re okay no matter what.”

Joe leans against the counter, deep in thought. Growing up with his dad coaching it was usually just the two of them, she drove him to basketball and football practices and tournaments, took him to school and worked the entire day at school and came home still ready to dedicate all of her time to him if he asked. “I was too harsh wasn’t I?”

“A teeny bit? Maybe? I do thoroughly appreciate you looking out for me though. Going to bat for me against your mom of all people.”

He shrugs, giving you a hug from behind, resting his chin on your head. “She protects me so somebody’s gotta protect you. That’s what I’m signing up for and I promise to always take that job very seriously.” I should put that in my vows, he tells himself. He leans over a little more to press a kiss against your temple.

“Is that a promise?”

“That is a promise,” he holds out a pinky, making you gasp as you turn around.

“Isn’t a pinky shake you and Ja’Marr’s thing?”

Joe looks at you sheepishly, smiling so wide his eyes crinkle. “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

You lock your pinky in his, kissing the smile off of his face.

That night before he went to sleep, he texted his mom telling her that he loved her. You gave them privacy when she came over the next day, smiling and hugging it out so you assumed everything went well. You hoped to have open communication with your kids even as adults one day, but did not envy the journey that your parents were constantly navigating. This once tiny person you created and had to make sure to teach them everything was now not only getting married and had established their own life but in Joe’s case everything was heightened. She’s been there through her son being the overlooked player who Urban Meyer said threw like a girl to now if he so much as has a paper cut an entire city of people, a whole fanbase is worried and asking for minute by minute updates on his condition. You couldn’t imagine the whirlwind that must be.

So you were going to sign that prenup whether Joe liked it or not.

“We need to decide on bridal party gifts,” Joe suggests a week later. “I was thinking about getting the guys customized golf carts. They could be delivered straight to their houses after the wedding or I could have them dropped off the day we get and they can drive around the property whenever they need to get somewhere? What sounds better?”

“It sounds like you’ve had this very specific plan and just couldn’t wait to make your big announcement. How am I supposed to compete with that?”

Joe laughs, grabbing his water. “You can give them all Cartier bracelets, have the wedding date engraved on the inside. That’d be pretty cool.”

Cool and expensive. “Don’t do that, I can actually hear what you’re thinking.” Curse him for knowing you so well. We’re only gonna do this once, might as well do it right. Make it a great experience for everyone we love.”

“Fine. You’re right. But we are not doing an ice sculpture then.” He gives you a blank stare but says nothing, both of you know that it’ll be coming back up sooner rather than later. “There is something else we need to talk about though.”

He rolls his eyes, deciding this is the perfect time to get up and put his plate in the sink, like you can’t just follow him. “We really don’t have to do this.”

“Oh but we do. Joe seriously we’re gonna have to figure this out. It’s important.”

He lets out a deep breath, looking up at the ceiling before putting his eyes back on you. “I’m just uncomfortable with any conversation that plans a breakup. I don’t ever want to breakup.”

“Then let’s not breakup and we won’t even have to worry about any of this. We’ll discuss the details, I’ll sign it and we’ll never talk about it ever again. Deal?”

You place a hand on his cheek and he kisses the inside of your hand before he speaks. “Deal. I can’t wait to marry you. Even got a countdown on my phone.”

“That’s probably the single most adorable thing you’ve ever said.” He pulls his phone out to show you a countdown app with a timer down to the hour the ceremony is supposed to start. A picture from your engagement shoot is set as the background. “I can’t wait either. I love you, so much.”

“I love you more.”

[lafortezaboy]

hey babes i'm sorry to hear that you have a time during the holidays 😢

this is actually my first time ever requesting !

can i request some dani x tmasc reader please 🙏

thank you lovely! you're a sweetheart, and holiday things did get a little overwhelming so i've only just gotten around to this, but i hope you enjoy! and, i'm honored to be your first request!!

content / warnings: established relationship, reader is an influencer, reader uses he / him pronouns, reader talks about being trans / realizing they were trans, there's no explicit transphobia but there are mentions of it, so please keep that in mind before reading

it wasn't often that you spent the night at the dorm. while you loved all the girls in your own way, with five other people living there, it could get chaotic quickly, and sometimes you and daniela just wanted to spend some time together. but when you had texted your girlfriend, asking if she wanted to come watch a new show with you, the texts you'd gotten back were worrisome.

daniela was never truly down. sure, she was just like everyone else and could be upset or sad, but her bright personality nearly always outshined in the end. unless something serious was wrong, she could shrug off anything. so getting the text that she didn't want to leave her bed? you'd told her you'd be there as soon as you could be, knowing that something was up.

getting to the dorm was no trouble, and sophia wasn't surprised to see you at all when she opened the door. that alone confirmed it, that something was wrong, and you needed to find out what. as soon as she saw you enter her room, she was lifting the blanket up for you, and you were slipping in beside her to pull her close, pressing kisses to her cheeks and the tip of her nose, telling her that it was okay, that you had her now.

you couldn't tell how much time passed as you held her, waiting until she was ready to talk, if she was willing to at all. you didn't mind the silence, though. you could hear faint squeals from one of the other girls – megan, if you had to guess, and you could hear the light noises that came with sophia making dinner. but daniela was what you focused on, on the way her hair felt so soft between your fingers, how her head rested perfectly in your neck, the comforting scent of her perfume. you could have fallen asleep, honestly, but when she shifted to look at you, she had your undivided attention.

"can i ask you something? about . . . about you, you know?" the way she asked the question clued you in pretty quickly, because you'd heard it before, from friends and family who were confused, from people who didn't understand. but her tone didn't feel the way theirs had, daniela seemed hesitant, but still a little curious. so you gave a little nod, fingers still running through her hair. "how did you know? that you're a man?"

the way she said it reassured that she meant no harm by it. others had worded it in such a way that had made you internally groan, fully expecting an argument by the time you were done. but she said it so surely, like she had no doubts, and that was partly why you felt the answer come so easily.

"well, for a while i didn't," you admitted, gazing up at the ceiling fan, watching the blades spin. "i knew i had always liked girls, and i was always a tomboy, but the gender stuff didn't really come in until puberty hit, and i started hating the way my body was changing." her arms tighten around you then, and you lean a little into her more, pressing a quick kiss to her forehead to show that you were okay.

"i started hating myself too, for a while, but i have great parents, and the second they realized i wasn't okay, they got me into a therapist. but i wasn't comfortable at first, because i had a woman therapist, and it just didn't feel like stuff i could say to a woman? so i asked to switch, and then they gave me this male therapist. and i could talk to him about stuff, you know? like sports and cars and video games, and all these things i had been taught that were the standard guy things, and i felt really comfortable with him. but i was jealous too, because i was going through all these changes and i didn't understand why my body couldn't look like his. why my voice couldn't get deeper or i couldn't grow facial hair, why i couldn't get taller. and eventually, i opened up to him about that, and he gave me a whole bunch of stuff to read about gender and sexuality."

you let out a small sigh then, and you could feel daniela's eyes on you, checking for any signs of discomfort. your arm just squeezed her a little, hoping to reassure her that it was okay. "so i read all the stuff, and it kinda just clicked to me that i was trans? and i think that i really knew a few months into transitioning, when my dad called me son like he did my brother, and it just felt right? like i didn't have to be the person i felt like i was forced to be, i could just be me, and my family would love me and have my back."

daniela's hand had made its way to your chest, and after you finished talking, yours came up to hold it, bringing it to your lips gently. "is there a reason you wanted to know, dani?" you asked, glancing over at her. the way her eyes avoided yours told you the answer, but you waited, wanting her to open up in her own time.

"this morning i . . . you know i watch all your tiktoks, like a lot," she started, and you let out a little hum. she did do that, she loved seeing the things you posted. "and there was one where your shirt was off, and i thought i would get to see people drooling over you in the comments and get all cocky because you're mine, but there were a lot of people being gross." it didn't take you any time to realize what she meant, and you just nodded a little.

"yeah, that happens all the time baby," you told her softly. she huffed then, arms tightening around you once again. "well it's bullshit, and i don't like it ," she grumbled, and you couldn't help the little laugh that escaped you. "i don't like it either princess, but it's there. it's always gonna be there, in some way or another. there's always going to be some asshole who wants to hurt people, but just because they try, that doesn't mean that they do get to hurt me. like, i'm comfortable in my own skin, and i'm doing what i love, surrounded by the people i love, and i have the most perfect girl anyone could ever ask for as my girlfriend. some losers on the internet aren't going to ruin my day by being dicks in my comments."

she was quiet for a moment after, and you simply let your fingers begin running through her hair once again. eventually though, her hand came up, tilting yours to the side to press a soft kiss against your lips. you kissed her back in an instant, lingering as long as she'd let you, but she pulled away much too soon.

"you can't ever change, okay?" she said, hand still on your cheek. "because if you change, they win, and then i'd have to beat them up. and i don't really want to go to jail, but i will." you laughed before you could stop it, and she quickly joined you, pulling you closer to her. you wrapped your arms around her completely then, rolling the two of you over so you were hovering over her. she moved with you, and once she was flat on her back, she looked up at you with such devotion in her eyes that your breath caught in your throat.

your fingers came up then, brushing her hair behind her ear gently as you looked at her. "i won't let them win, i promise. because if you do go to jail over me, i'd lose sophia's approval. and i really like being allowed over, because then i get to do this." and she seemed to read your mind because hands were cupping your face as you leaned down, pressing your lips against hers gently.

[failgirl-debunker]

Tokyo Debunker: Epic the Musical

Odysseus

Options:

Honor Student: Self explanatory. Our main character who goes through so much. Plus our general consensus as a fandom is wanting her to just snap and lose it.

Lyca: Literally just to Subaru’s much more fitting Penelope. Lyca, bless him, is a bit too simple to be the mad lad genius Odysseus. But they are both feral and loyal.

Alan: “When does a man become a monster…?” You can see my vision here. He’s the Captain of the roughest house in school and a damned good Captain at that. But he’s in a constant struggle with himself to not teeter off into irredeemable violence, but when he does it’s for a just cause (Dante aside).

Penelope

Options:

Honor Student: Here we go again. Not only does it give our Odysseus so many more options, but Penelope would be such a good solid role for our sweet MC to grow into. She’s durable, and even when not being confrontational she’s crafty. She’s a survivor. We just want this for her personality so badly.

Subaru: Okay but undoing the tapestry every night for years and begrudgingly offering top notch hospitality in keeping with tradition is so Subaru coded. And just give his relationship with Lyca I just think it’s a shoe in. However, it still works even with MC as Ody!

Haku: Perfect in the event of MC as Ody. It’s an intelligent role, a well played calculating role, one that shows strong resolve and loyalty and adoration… but it’s also a very passive role. Perfect for Haku . He doesn’t have to fight anyone or do anything, he just has to be charming enough in the face of abhorrent people and clever enough to string them along. Haku embodies both of these traits. He’ll plan and plot and delay but above all he’ll be… Waiting… waiting… waiting…

Telemachus

Okay respectfully I don’t think we can cast anyone as babygirl Telemachus. If MC does take ins if the two main roles it implies a maternal standing on whichever *love interest* would be playing him. So unless we give this a spin it’s just gonna be a little weird.

Athena

Options:

Ritsu: We don’t have much to work this and this is a stretch but just… hear me out, let me cook, reserve your Judgements. Athena is portrayed as extremely “my way or the highway”, she’s thorough and calculating and can be helpful but her biggest flaw is a lack of empathy. Ritsu does not offer empathy and it’s something he will likely have to go through as a character if he wants to grow — just like Athena did. They’re both pleasant enough but they’re also woefully head strong and set in their ways. And frankly they both seem to have a serving of Daddy Issues in their plates. Again, this isn’t perfect, but I’m trying.

Zeus

Options:

Tohma: “The blood on your hand is something you won’t lose. All you can choose is whose…” I think Tohma is the scariest character in Tokyo Debunker, I’m not even gonna front. He’s dangerously smart and cunning and he’ll get his way. “Tell her I’m the judgement call, the kind to make her kingdom fall.” I think his goal is to have Jin’s Kingdom fall.

Eurylochus

Options:

Alan: The greater good, willing to get his haves dirty for the greater good, will do what it takes to ensure the wellbeing of his house, he doesn’t necessarily choose violence first the way Eury would at times but what’s gotta be done will be done. There’s a stoicism but they both still ooze humanity. That stoicism is a wall not just to protect themselves but to protect others and sometimes that wall is a self isolating fortress where their own feelings are sidelined. They both feel deeply but they’re realists and sometimes feelings are a hindrance.

Polites

Options:

Rui: He’s helpful and supportive in a way that hits different from Haku but like with Polities there’s something about it that doesn’t always feel strictly platonic. Polites and Rui are each their own kind of tragic, but unless he’s forced to clean up after Ed and Lyca Rui’s just a very upbeat guy!

Polyphemus

Options:

Lyca: Simple lads. Polyphemus isn’t an unsympathetic character. When you step back and look at it, Ody essentially killed Polyphemus’ Polites when he shot the sheep. Now imagine the sheep is Subaru. (How many times do I reference Lyca & Subaru as a duo in this post…) I know it’s not the most enviable role but I do feel strongly about it suiting Lyca. Lyca and Polyphemus aren’t stupid characters and they’re more than just dangerous brutes, both were denied the circumstances that would’ve led to better development for them.

Perimedes

Options:

Ren or Sho: I'm not going to explain it. I’m just going to…

I don't love anybody that’s my power

Cause if I got nothing to lose

Then I got nothing to fear

And there's no way I'll get bruised

If I don't let anyone near

Cause it's me, myself, and I

Can't fall if I don't fly

Can't fail if I don’t try

I’m in my comfort zone

I'm in my comfort zone

Elpenor

Options:

Kaito: Butt-monkey. The Kaito Fans will never seek my friendship, but they will seek my mounted head for their walls.

I died, but nobody noticed.

I died, but nobody cared.

God, I’m sorry, but even in a cast where Sinostra and Tohma are romantic options I still think Kaito is the worst fucking one.

Aeolus

Options:

Towa: Playful, childlike (childish), mischievous to a dangerous extent, and it’ll never ever be his problem. If you get hurt as a result of his actions then you’re at fault for not playing his game right. Them’s just the facts. If not for a later role fitting Towa on a much deeper level this would be a shoe-in for me. It still is. Towa is. Basically this character and a later role combined. Plus!! Hems surrounded by cute little minions! Towa would love cute little minions!!!

Haru: Somewhat the same as the above but imagine it’s only directed at Reb and no one else. Dude broke windows to get in touch with Ren about his car’s extended warranty.

Poseidon

Options:

Jin: It’s a vibe. I don’t have a great deductive reasoning for this, it’s just a matter of desperately wanting to cast but not having enough to work with.

Lucas: My boyfriend hit me with the ol’ “hear me out” while showing him my list. Lucas is our very good boy but consider… Lucas’ brother in the place of Polyphemus. The relentlessness takes on a new context. He can’t let go and he cannot learn to forgive. Narratively Lucas seems to be on the path to something a lot darker than the character we currently know him as and I could 100% see him having a complete 180 in regards to the fate of his brother.

Hermes

Options:

Haru: The very very first casting that set off this entire collision of brainrot! I used to have Hermes songs on my Haru playlist. I could just say that Hermes canonically twerks and bring up how Haru constantly references asses and leave it at that but. He’s helpful in a chaotic way, he’s devious, he’s cunning, both of them have speed/motion related powers and they’re both just extremely silly flirty characters. “And I call this root… Holy! Moly!”

Haku: No one comes in clutch like Haku. Nuff said.

Circe

Options:

Leo: It can only be Leo. Leo can only be Circe. This is non-negotiable, I will not be hearing any alternatives, discussion and sharing opinions is a healthy thing to do but I think I’m right in this.

He’s not a player, he’s a puppeteer.

Tiresias

Options:

Subaru: Their powers are a little similar, Tiresias seeing all of time and Subaru seeing the entire history of things he touches. Both are reasonably burdened by their powers and Subaru in particular feels a great sum of guilt and shame regarding his stigma. I know I mention vibe a lot… but there is also a bit of resonance between these two characters.

Jiro: This was my original pick because of how somber he is. I don’t think he’s a bad choice either — good news, bad news, he delivers it thoroughly and completely. It’s just reality to him.

Scylla

Options:

Honor Student’s Anomaly: This is purely self-indulgent. <: Don’t you think her monster design merged with Scylla would be so cool? I do!!!

Argos

Options:

Edward: He’s an old ass man (dog) that’s so close to the sweet release of death. yes this is meant to be silly but it’s also a fun suggestion my boyfriend, a man who wants to do things with Edward I dare not repeat 🍆, is the one who suggested it.

Antinuous

Options:

Taiga: So let’s just… ignore some of the darker stuff in this character. The personalities are practically spot on. They’re arrogant, domineering, violent, and they’re more than brawn given how calculated they can both be. Also imagining the line, but from Taiga… “whatchu gonna do about it, champ?” Chills.

Calypso

Options:

Towa: He’s obsessed with the idea of soulmates, everyone in the fandom has mutually agreed that he’s a softcore yandere, he’s canonically extremely childish and demanding, and just look…

You're adorable

Bow down now to the immortal Calypso, here to entertain

But fear not, I bring no pain

'Cause we've got

All we could want here

All we could need here

Under my spell, we're stuck in paradise

No one can come nor go, my island stays unknown

Rui: He’s also very hung up on the idea of love, but! He’s also cursed into isolation because of his inability to safely touch others. I think if you put Rui in a situation where even platonic love is something he’s denied he’d get a bit corrupted by his loneliness. Calypso is way less sympathetic due to the SA of Odysseus in canon, but in Epic it’s not implied particularly so it’s easier to give her some grace there and acknowledge that she too is essentially cursed in her exile.

This is just a mention but I also considered listing Zenji here since he is also denied the ability to touch… but the thing is I feel like Zenji’s twist would be he’d relate more to Odysseus than Calypso. Because he has touched and he has loved and restraining someone the way he’s been restrained would be ghastly to him. I’m not saying Zenji has more morals than Rui, I just think the unfairness of that situation would move their hearts differently.

Besides, overall I think Towa is a shoe-in for this role. I just wanted to provide in-depth alternatives.

Apollo

Options:

Zenji: Their identities are intrinsically tied to an iconic instrument and the production of music and the arts. They’re charming and romantic to a fault!

Haku: Purely vibes! Pure true vibes! Immaculate vibes!

Hephaestus

Options:

Sho: This is very blasé reasoning. Hephaestus works on contraptions and machinery and Sho is the one who most prominently works on stuff in the garage other than sometimes Alan.

Aphrodite

Options:

Romeo: Self-obsessed with his own beauty to the point of making it everyone else’s problem? Petty and spiteful? LET FICO BE THE GODDESS OF BEAUTY, YOU COWARDS!!! I feel just as strongly about this one as Leo being casted as Circe.

Ares

Options:

Taiga: The Ares’ to his Lulu’s Aphrodite. Short-sighted, violent, impulsive, an absolute power house of danger and antagonism. Plus just think of all the cute animatics where Ares and Aphrodite work together against Athena.

Hera

Options:

Yuri: okay again, this is even more of a stretch but hear me out. Put down the tomato — hey! I see you in the back, put it down!!!… Yuri’s fake hype for himself and constantly being pissy. I think that works for Hera. Not so much Yuri being a disco queen, but you know, we love to see the antsy tsundere cutting loose. /lh

The Winions are all played by Peekaboo but Haru’s Peekaboo in particular is Princess Winion. Please imagine the crazy little dance.

Also Jiro as honorary Hades. Maybe Yuri is his Persephone if that’s your ship. Maybe MC is his Persephone (my preference).

Charybdis played by Calamari’s Calamommy.

[myheartlovestheview]

@ofbreakingofflimits

Yeah, they've been struggling a bit through the years... Your dad's trying his best, but it seems like they just don't have the drive and determination that you guys did. Maybe you should teach them your "What team? Wildcats!" chant. It might amp them up a bit. {I gently suggested. Tell you the truth, what that team needs is someone like Troy coaching it. I mean, no offense at all to Coach Bolton, because he's fantastic at coaching, I'm sure, but knowing Troy is a legend to that team, I could just imagine how hard they'd work to be the best, all in an effort to make Troy proud. A thought I'd keep to myself, though because Troy had enough on his plate already when it came to making decisions about his future} It's definitely an honor... Shows how much you mean to Wildcats history. There can only ever be one Troy Bolton. {I said with a bright smile. In spite the fact that Troy's always been loved and revered, I admired how modest he has always been about his fame and prestige. Just further proof of what a great guy Troy is. It takes a really good person to not let something like that stroke his ego to the point of giving him a big head. Maybe I'm a bit biased because of my feelings for Troy, but in my eyes, there's nobody like him... He truly is the best} So, how long are you going to be home for?

@ofbreakingofflimits

{First love. It’s one of those feelings you’ll never forget. People tell you that, no matter how much time passes, that first love will always hold a special place in your heart. I didn’t really know just how true that was, but for me, I don’t think I’ll ever forget mine.

For me, my first, and only love, has been Troy Bolton. He came into my life at a time that I needed him the most, and no matter where life takes us, I’ll never forget how he made me feel, or the person I became simply by having him in my life. It’s funny when you consider I was so mad at my mom when her job transferred her to New Mexico. Don’t get me wrong, I didn’t have anything against Albuquerque, but it was just the fact that I was tired of moving around. You finally make a few friends, and you get adjusted into a new school, and suddenly you’re packing up and moving again. Needless to say, I became really good at goodbyes. Fortunately for me, my mom made it clear to her bosses that she wouldn’t accept another transfer, after that last one, until I graduated from high school. I was lucky because it was in Albuquerque, or more accurately, at East High that I finally figured out who I am. It was my season of firsts… First love… first kiss… first time singing in front of an audience without passing out… first time in a school musical… first time that I had a whole circle of really great friends… And the list goes on. I loved everything about East High, especially Troy Bolton. Then college happened and I didn’t know where that would leave Troy and I. Sure, just like any high school couple, you make the promise to give it your best shot, but with distance and the busyness of college, it starts to weigh on a relationship. At least that’s what people like Taylor, Chad, Kelsie, and my mom warned me. I don’t know, though… When it came to Troy and me, I knew if anyone could defy the odds and make our relationship last, it was us.

For our parts, we did give it our best shot. We went strong through our first year of college, even the second-year defied expectations, but as it continued, I could feel us starting to drift apart. It made sense, though. I mean, we both made new friendships at college, we both had heavy loads with our classes and assignments, and we were both also involved in extracurriculars at college, too. All that to say, it didn’t leave much time for each other. Our weekend meet ups and dates gradually dwindled to once a month, if we were lucky, and over time, it just became one disappointment and canceled date after another for us. In the end, we decided it was best just to end our relationship. It was nobody’s fault, really. Just reality became a bit too much for us to continue holding on to our “kindergarten fantasies,” you could say.

My senior year was wrapping up at college, and I was still undecided on what I wanted to do next. Sure, I had job offers lining up, but nothing had really stuck out to me yet, regarding which path I wanted to choose. My mom had since been transferred back to Albuquerque and was living in our old house, so I had strongly considered taking a position that I had been offered at a law office in Albuquerque, but I still wasn’t sure. I mean, maybe a change in scenery is what I needed. Still, Albuquerque was the place that still felt most like home, so maybe that was my answer. I silently considered as I left the dining hall and started back toward my dorm room to continue packing up. I had no sooner reached my dorm room when I got a text from Taylor asking me if I was returning for the alumni event being held for our graduating class back at East High. Sure, I recalled reading the email a few times… Going back and forth on whether or not I wanted to do this, but in the end, I was still undecided, at best. Don’t get me wrong, it might be really nostalgic to be back at East High again, and it would be great to see my friends, but I was admittedly nervous about seeing Troy} Maybe… {I texted back in response as I continued packing up my dorm room; stacking my packed bins in the corner of the room, so they would be ready to load into my SUV once I finished finals later this week.

Days passed, graduation happened, and I found myself back in Albuquerque. I was still undecided on which job I was going to take, but for now, I was indefinitely moved back into my mom’s house. After going back and forth for weeks, Taylor managed to convince me to attend the alumni event at East High this weekend, so I now found myself in front of my closet door mirror trying on one outfit after another in search of just the perfect outfit. I was never this indecisive about what to wear, but I don’t know, I guess the possibility of seeing Troy today left me feeling nervous} “The one you’re wearing is perfect. Now put those shoes on, and let’s go.” {I heard Taylor’s bossy voice ringing out from behind me; prompting a bright smile to my face. Squealing softly in excitement while rushing over toward her to greet her with a hug} I didn’t know you were coming here to get me. {I said as we exchanged a long overdue hug with each other. She chuckled lightly and replied} “I figured if we’re both going into that school with the chance of having to face our ex-boyfriends, or worse yet, Sharpay Evans, we’d need each other for moral support.” {I nodded in response and smiled as we broke the hug. I took one last look in the mirror after slipping into the shoes Taylor suggested for me to wear. I still wasn’t a hundred percent convinced that this was the right outfit to go with, but it would do. I thought with a silent nod as I grabbed my purse and keys. Not a moment too soon since I felt Taylor grab my hand; tugging me out of my bedroom, downstairs, and ultimately out to her awaiting vehicle. A nervous sigh leaving my lips as I got situated in the passenger’s side seat of her vehicle} “We’ve got this. I mean, we’re all in this together, right?” {She said with a knowing smile and a giggle as she started up the vehicle and then with an exhaled breath, she pulled away from my house; taking the familiar drive to East High School for what could potentially be an unforgettable weekend for us both}

[bluebeatle-gone]

post-movie j.aime deciding to go to law school there in el paso... spending most of the summer torn abt what he wants to do because as grateful as he is of the k.ords for replacing tío r.udy's truck and fixing up their house, he knows he can't just expect them to cover Everything all the time. he wouldn't be able to accept it even if they offered, that's just not the kind of guy that he is. (probably makes a joke abt how he doesn't Actually wanna be like m.aria la del b.arrio) wanting to keep going towards being a lawyer so he can eventually make enough money to support his family while also staying close to them in the absence of his dad and being able to finally give el paso and ciudad juarez their own hero like rudy had said up on the roof in that one scene.

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price being bitten by Kermit -

THE MUPPET SHOW (1977)

[lifemod17]

You ever see a man so pretty you wanna cry

And his voice sounds so good too. I AM NOT OKAY SEND HELP.

🎥: momsloveharry | tiktok

Forest Hills night 3 || 07 / 06 / 2024

[just-null]

I WANT TO WISH U A HAPPY NY🎉🎄!! (now in my country they celebrate🥲)I'M GLAD TO MEET UR BLOG. THIS IS THE CUTEST N MOST WONDERFUL BLOG. I very rarely see creativity with our sweet Nori!! But when I saw your blog, I was so happy!! I hope that in the future the blog will develop and thnq, dear froggy, for pleasing our eyes!!😭😭😭💗💗YOU'RE THE SUN & THE CHARM!!(◡‿◡✿)

*sorry for my strange english, I have problems w/ it 😞*

HAPPY END OF YEAR TO ALL OF YOU

Your english is lovely, dw. tysm for finding my cult in this corner and liking what you found! Also for reminding me today is the last day of the year (my time)

aint no fucking way am i gonna allow this cult having more depictions of me than Noritoshi fucking Kamo. So i present to you, my beloved cult members, a bunch of doodles i have of Noritoshi.

there is no particular order