#and that mental image does wonders for my life.

[dragonnon]

why does it feel like sometimes Kazuma's themes could just be from the perpective of Ryunosuke? which is interesting considering the line Kazuma says, "i'm not the one who's changed Ryunosuke, you have."

Kazuma's first theme sounds like a downright heroic folk hero, someone you look up too and can depend on. the meter is focused and stays on point, every individual instrument waits for their perfect intervals. the bass instrument keeping them all steady. then an arpeggio comes and the original melody instrument stands aside and only plays as an accompaniment before coming back as lead with fanfare playing as it leads back to the main melody. there are a lot of japanese instruments in the song which go away in later themes. there is a kagura-suzu which is japanese bell! i really like it's sound!!!

in Nocturne, instruments are overlapping more but are quieter for the main melody which i think is the koto. it's no longer so steady, the bass is gone and i interpret the bass with his life/passion. no longer feels like a force always by your side more like a tun playing in your mind. the determined and steadfast arpeggio is gone and never comes back. and there are these contemplative plucking violin(?) strings in the middle section. they give me of the feeling of reminiscing. i feel like the last part before it repeats is Ryunosuke remembering all of the good times they've had, and then once it repeats that's him remembering he's gone. in this theme, all the other instruments take a real backseat to the main one. it's Ryunosuke remembering the best part of him, his main melody so to speak. the Kagura-suzu is still here.

In His Glorious Return, it starts out like a very triumphant and yearned for version of samurai on a mission (if that makes sense) until the brass section rests and it becomes almost exactly like Nocturne, something i find extremely interesting because of that part where susato was talking to kazuma in the departed soul scene, ryunosuke was looking towards the ground lost in thought around the same time this part plays i believe? it's almost as if he's remembering all the times he's grieved him.... thus the nocturne version playing.

the Kagura-suzu is now gone :( it is now "replaced" with snapping.

A prosecutor reborn, oh my god a prosecutor reborn, if it didn't have the same melody i almost wouldn't be able to tell it's the same character. most of his original japanese instruments are gone, and have been replaced with ones that are more associated with britain's characters. almost as if he seems more alien to Ryunouske. he borrows several instrument's from barok van ziek's theme, like the violin, and harpsichord. and yeah, the harpsichord absolutely haunts this song. it's EVERYWHERE. someone told me once the harpsichord represents the professor, so that's FUN. it's not like the professor absolutely haunts this guys life (,:'D)

i think the only thing he keeps is his bass which is used way more sparingly than it is in SOAM. and interestingly, the kagura-suzu is back, but it is only used like twice i think. (☹️), its still kinda replaced with the snapping

The opening almost sounds like an unveiling, as if seeing the man for first time and he's utterly terrifying. and then it jumps straight into this unfamiliar melody not heard anywhere in any of his other themes. it's reminiscent of barok van ziek's theme. ...because Ryunosuke barely recognizes him. he's nothing like who he's known... right? and it just keeps getting grander and grander! it then comes back to this more familiar part kazuma's iconic motif, but the notes are now in legato, and the melody's been changed by one note, and though it's only one it is NOTICEABLE. it distracts from how everything else about that section was so familiar. (when i first heard it i was actually taken aback)

now for the part that i'm crazy about

THE MIDDLE SECTION HAS THE GATEWAY TO THE TRUTH

THEME WHICH IS THE SAMD MOTIF THAT PLAYS IN THE PROFESSOR THEME! IF YOU LISTEN TO THEM BACK TO BACK YOU'LL HEAR THEM! Kazuma could've BEEN the professor if he didn't turn his heel and left! if he had killed gregson in pursuit of his mission, he could've become that! and the fact that motif is in this song is so important in showing that. just WOW. this song is Ryunouske finally seeing a different side to kazuma. him in his grief and rage, him at his 'worst' it's quite unlike how ryunosuke sees him in nocturne where it seems he is remembering only the absolute best parts about him like it's so easy to do when in grief.

listening to his themes with all that in mind has been a tear-filled hell for me, but it's always how i've thought of it basically.

[astronomalyy]

Thinking about the lifespans of Dungeon Meshi elves... The fact that they're completely unnatural alters my brain chemistry, because you can tell just how haphazardly the demon implemented their wish. They live five times the length of tall-men, so they age at a fifth of their rate. It's simple maths and the implications are terrifying. No wonder their birth rate and population are declining - their early development is so slow that at the age of two, they're still unable to stand.

They don't reach adulthood until their eighties. What does the infant mortality look like? How many elves succumb to illness or injury before they're fully mature? It only takes one accident to lose the child you've been raising for decades - and could you bring yourself to care for another? Add to that the implication elf culture has no idea how to process grief... just look at the way the Canaries treat Rin after the death of her parents. They're callous and insensitive and detached - part of that's racism, but there's also an element of pure cold ignorance. They don't even recognise the emotion on her face.

And that's just scratching the surface... does elven memory accommodate their extended lifespan? Once you reach two hundred or so, do the years start blurring together? Kabru mentions that their temporal awareness is remarkably poor.

Two years feel like a few months. Their lives are longer but not fuller. They're older but not wiser than the short-lived races, and most refuse to understand this. Those that do grasp it are interesting - namely Otta, who's ostracised for pursuing half-foot women.

A 30-year old elf is a young child; a 30-year old half-foot has entered middle age. Otta is in the equivalent of her late twenties. She knows that her elven lifespan makes her no more mature than a half-foot - but she also acknowledges that it creates a rift between herself and her partners, and not just in the eyes of society. 'She dumps them as soon as they pass 30', but probably not for the reasons Lycion assumes. For this to be a pattern, decades must have passed - it's possible Otta doesn't want to watch them die as she herself barely ages. No doubt some of her previous lovers have already passed away. In the end, all living 400 years accomplishes is leaving them out of sync with the rest of humanity.

Marcille's perhaps the best example. As a half-elf, she's got 95% of her life ahead and the thought terrifies her. She's going to lose everyone she loves, over and over and over again, and this cycle has barely even started. She runs at a different pace. This context adds so much to her dynamic with Falin in earlier chapters.

Marcille loves her! She's scared for her! Maybe even of her! She's grown attached to a short-lived girl who she met as a kid when Marcille was a teaching assistant! Biologically and developmentally, they're the same age, but chronologically she's twice as old as Falin! Considering what happened to her mother, is history repeating itself? Her feelings towards Falin are tangled and messy and fascinating. They're also more than a little homoerotic, which makes Marcille's infantilization of her friend all the more interesting. It feels like her way of resolving their power imbalance, of remaining a responsible (former!) authority figure... but it's also a coping mechanism. She's frightened by the ways Falin is maturing and changing - aging - and keeping her mental image of her friend as young as possible is her way of denying the march of time that's destined to sever their bond.

Marcille's dream of lifespan extension would remove the need for this obfuscation, render them equal... only, they already are! This desire is imposed onto Falin, but it's primarily for Marcille's benefit. Watching her fight for a world nobody wants, for reasons both selfish and altruistic... it's as tragic as it is understandable. I love this manga.

[ccarlislecc]

♡ the newlyweds ♡ ♡ you thought maybe your husband's insatiable appetite would cool down after the first few days of being married, but if anything, it’s getting worse ♡ kamo choso, nanami kento, gojo satoru, sukuna ryomen, fushiguro toji author's note: men who are so painfully downbad for their wife = girl dinner, enjoy!! mdni please!!

choso's gone this long without having sex, be prepared to make up for lost time. he isn’t super familiar with human procedures & traditions, so it wasn’t necessarily his intent to wait until marriage. he didn’t even really know what sex was until he started dating you, & you didn’t want to push him into something he wasn’t comfortable with. regardless, your first time is on your wedding night. . .& your second time, & third time, & fourth. . .& so on. 

you remember faintly the first time you kissed choso, him saying that he would be happily content to kiss you & kiss you for the rest of his life. & he would’ve been, but he was too far gone know, eyes rolling back, body unable to process the immense pleasure of your cunt wrapped around him. 

his hands gripped your hips with a desperate intensity as he moved within you, each thrust sending waves of ecstasy through your joined bodies. choso's normally composed demeanor had completely unraveled, replaced by raw need & desire.

you ran your fingers through his long dark hair, marveling at how undone he had become. his lips found yours in a searing kiss, muffling the moans that escaped unbidden from both of your throats.

"never," he gasped against your mouth, his voice husky with passion. "never knew. . .never knew it could be like this. didn’t know it was this good."

nanami was not typically a risk taker in any form, especially when it came to his wife, but he couldn’t bear to be away from you that long. his work had not allowed him to take off as much time as he would’ve liked. his first few days back were pure torture. he focused on nothing else but the mental image of your tits bouncing as you rode him, or the way your cunt sucked in his fingers each night before he stuffed you full of his cock, or the sound of your melodious voice begging him, telling how good it was. 

so here he was, bending you over his mahogany desk (the blinds shut of course, he wasn’t that risky) wondering how he ever lived without you, without fucking you. sex had been on his mind so infrequently before you. he stroked himself off maybe once a month, or sometimes when he was drunk. but now, he had a hard time going any significant period of time without being balls deep in your sweet cunt. seeing that wedding ring on your finger, gripping onto the wood of his desk, does not help matters in the slightest. 

nanami's fingers dug into your hips as he thrust into you from behind, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through your bodies. the office was filled with the sounds of skin slapping against skin & your muffled moans. you bit your lip, trying to stay quiet, though it was a struggle with the way he was pounding into you.

"god, i've missed this," nanami groaned, his voice husky with desire. "missed my wife. your tight little cunt feels so good."

you whimpered in response, pushing back against him, desperate for more. his hand snaked around to rub your clit in tight circles, making your legs tremble.

"that's it, baby," he murmured. "come for me. let me feel you squeeze my cock."

you’re entirely unsurprised by gojo's behavior. you actually don’t think there will come a time when satoru is not desperate for you at all hours of the day. he could be mid-mission, literally killing a curse, & he’ll send some stupid horny text. "pls :( need nudes, will die without." you suppress the biggest eye roll.

your eyes are surely rolling, though, when he gets home & shows you what he’s been thinking about all day at work, what had him so worked up. . .thoughts about his pretty wife & her pretty pussy.

you can't help but smirk as satoru presses you against the wall, his lips hungry on your neck. his hands roam your body with urgent need, like he hasn't touched you in weeks rather than hours; it was only that morning that he’d stuffed his tongue in your cunt before dashing off to a meeting. "missed you," he murmurs between kisses. "couldn't focus all day."

“I couldn’t tell," you tease, recalling his stream of increasingly needy texts. "begging me for nudes didn’t tip me off at all."

he chuckles against your skin, the vibration sending shivers down your spine. "can you blame me? look at you."

his hands slide down to grip your hips, pulling you flush against him. you can feel how hard he is already, his desire evident through his pants. "someone's excited," you whisper, nipping at his earlobe.

satoru groans, grinding against you. "you have no idea. been thinking about this all day. about you."

he groans, pressing his hips against yours. "those pictures kept me going. but the real thing is so much fucking better."

his fingers find the hem of your shirt, sliding underneath to caress bare skin. you gasp as he cups your breast, thumb brushing over the sensitive peak.

"satoru," you breathe, melting into his touch despite your earlier exasperation. he’s gotta make it up to his poor wife for leaving her home all day long. 

a week-long getaway to a penthouse with your new husband, suguru, had sounded like a dream, & of course it was, but you feared you weren’t making it out of this vacation without a positive pregnancy test. 

his hands gripped your hips with an intensity that would surely leave bruises, but you couldn't bring yourself to care. every thrust sent waves of ecstasy coursing through your body, leaving you gasping and clinging to him desperately. his usual composure was completely shattered, replaced by raw need and desire.

your nails digging into his back as he drove into you relentlessly. his dark eyes were wild with lust, fixed on your flushed face.

"that's it, love," he growled, his voice husky & strained. "take all of me. let me fill you up."

your body trembled, teetering on the edge of bliss. you could feel the heat of his skin, smell his intoxicating scent, hear the low groans rumbling in his chest. it was overwhelming, consuming you entirely. the intensity of his words sent a shiver down your spine. part of you wanted to resist, to remind him of your carefully laid plans—but your body betrayed you, arching into his touch & silently begging for more. his hand slid down to caress your lower abdomen, his touch gentle despite the ferocity of his thrusts. "you'll look so beautiful," he murmured. "glowing, swollen with our baby."

you were pretty sure you’d never experienced exhaustion like this before, & yet you wouldn’t have it any other way. sukuna was practically tethered to you, night & day; you knew he exceeded the stamina of typical men, but this was setting the bar a little too high. he was breaking your poor cunt. 

"‘kuna, I c-can’t, can’t take anymore, s’too much," you’d babble each morning & each night, tears staining your pillow along with your drool, nails tearing into the sheets. you were pretty sure some of the remnants of your mascara from your wedding day still remained somewhere on your eyes, you hadn’t the time for skincare. 

"of course you can, wife. you always take me so well, like you were made for me," he purrs, chest falling over your back, pressing you into the sheets, biting the lobe of your ear, ruining you. & he was such an asshole, calling you wife, as if he cared at all for your silly little human rituals, it was just another way for him to tease you. 

"please," you gasped, not even sure what you were asking for anymore. your mind was foggy, overwhelmed by sensation.

sukuna chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through your body. "such sweet sounds you make for me, wife. I’ll never tire of them." his hand snaked around to grip your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head swim. you felt him swell inside you, somehow growing even larger. "one more," he growled. "give me one more, & I’ll let you rest."

his chuckle rumbled through you, low & dark, watching your hips draw back & forth to meet his. "see? your body knows what it needs," sukuna murmured, his breath hot against your neck.

it must have been the dress, you think a couple hours later, drifting in & out of sleep while you can. soon you'll both be ready for the nth round. or maybe the lingerie. . .you don't really know what's causing him to be this insatiable. sukuna had always loved your body, your face covered in his cum, your cunt widening around his cocks, but this. . .this was a whole new level of pussydrunk.

toji is determined to christen every goddamn inch of your apartment. it’s practically a game to him. 

"no, toji, not on the table, we eat here," you whine, but your attempts at swatting him away as he pushes you over the counter so delicately, humping your ass, groaning into his fist. he hoped there came a point when his wife’s ass didn’t make him whiney & sex-brained like a teenager, but he doubted it. 

"please, baby," he groans, mouthing at your clothed pussy. "let me taste you. I need it."

you can't help but melt at his desperation, your resolve crumbling. with shaky hands, you push your panties to the side. toji lets out a guttural moan at the sight of your glistening folds, diving in eagerly.

his tongue laps at you hungrily, like a man starved. you cry out, gripping the edge of the table for support as your knees threaten to give way. toji's large hands grip your thighs, holding you steady as he devours you.

"fuck, you taste so good," he mumbles against your sensitive flesh. "never get enough of you."

♡ fin ♡

thank you for reading! comments, likes, & reblogs are so, so appreciated, but I love you non-interacting people, too ♡ here's my masterlist! mwah 🩷 xoxo, carlisle

[witchyvixie]

reading posts abt how fandom treats women characters is making me reaaallly wanna write a longpost abt poppy bc there is no dimwood fandom and she's one of my favorite characters of all time and she fucking deserves it

[solxamber]

This is a funny lil idea I just had but have you ever thought about rook and a reader that acts like his behavior is normal? Like, they know he's literally stalking them but is perfectly fine with it for some strange reason.

And when they finally do start dating, everyone is either

1. Convinced that he’s threatening your life

Or

2. Judging you like crazy because WHY

Totally Normal Romance || Rook Hunt

You've fallen hard for the hunter and you're dating! But when you tell your friends the good news, they immediately try staging interventions. Huh, I wonder why?

thank you for waiting! I loved the idea a lot and it became way longer than I expected but I hope you like it!

You’ve somehow managed to fall into a relationship with Rook, the Academy's resident “Hunter” and renowned tracker of students who can't even attempt to hide without him finding them.

Most people would be a little alarmed—okay, extremely alarmed—by Rook’s knack for showing up whenever you breathe a little too loud. But you? You’re weirdly, unapologetically chill about it.

The day starts as it usually does. Rook is outside your door bright and early, practically sparkling, ready to report how many steps you took in your sleep, how many breaths you exhaled, and what percentage of your dreams contained images of his dashing silhouette.

You nod, acting like he’s merely sharing the weather, and go about your morning. People are whispering in the hallways; they’ve noticed that the school’s “greatest hunter” is now your personal shadow.

Some think you're being held hostage in an unholy union. Others are convinced you’ve cracked under the pressure of Rook’s endless poetic monologues and have, in fact, lost your mind.

When the two of you officially start dating, the rumors take a delightful nosedive into the surreal. Rook is, naturally, over the moon, reciting sonnets about your “captivating acceptance of his pursuit.” Friends beg you to “see the red flags.”

You just smile as Rook emerges from behind a tree on your morning jog to hand you a flower he found “radiant with the essence of your aura.”

Intervention Attempt 1: Adeuce

You’re just sitting down to lunch when Ace and Deuce suddenly approach you with identical expressions of horror and determination, like they’ve somehow stumbled into a horror movie and taken it upon themselves to rescue the clueless protagonist. Ace, as usual, decides to take the lead.

“We need to talk. About... him.” He jerks a thumb toward Rook, who’s lurking—quite visibly—behind a tree, watching you with a delighted grin as if the entire world is his favorite reality TV show.

You shrug. “Rook’s just being his usual sweet self.”

Deuce’s mouth falls open. “That’s... sweet? The dude’s literally hiding in a tree to stare at you.”

You wave a hand. “He’s just thoughtful, you know? He knew I needed a pick-me-up yesterday, so he waited in my closet for two hours just to surprise me with a motivational haiku.”

Ace’s expression is somewhere between pity and disbelief. “You’re serious? That’s... sweet?”

“Uh-huh.” You pop a fry in your mouth, unfazed. “Honestly, it’s kind of nice to have someone that dedicated.”

Ace and Deuce share a silent, horrified look, one that clearly says, Our friend has lost it. Then, Ace leans in close. “You know, if he’s threatening you, you can blink twice or something. We can handle him.”

You burst into laughter, almost choking on your fry. “Guys, come on! Rook’s harmless. It’s just his way of showing affection.”

Behind the tree, Rook notices you laughing and beams even wider, waving with both hands like you’re his entire world. Ace sighs, looking like he’s just signed up for an impossible mission. Deuce’s brows knit together in concern, like he’s mentally preparing himself to guard you from the “danger” Rook apparently presents.

Intervention Attempt 2: Leona

Leona lounges on the couch as you walk into the room, looking way too relaxed—except for the sharp glint in his eye as he watches you. You know that look; it’s the we need to talk look, though Leona would sooner eat his tail than say it outright.

“You know that guy who keeps creeping around you?” he starts, his tone casual, as if he’s talking about the weather. “The hunter dude?”

“Oh, Rook? Yeah, he’s great!” you reply with a smile, clearly missing his hint.

Leona raises an eyebrow, looking faintly amused. “Great? The guy basically tracks your every move like a lion on a hunt. He’s probably memorized your breathing patterns by now.”

You laugh it off, waving a hand. “Leona, you make it sound creepy. Rook’s just… committed.”

Leona smirks, leaning back with a lazy yawn. “Committed to what, stalking you?”

You shrug. “It’s romantic in its own way! He writes poetry about me, makes sure I’m always safe... It’s kinda nice knowing someone’s always watching out for me.”

“Watching out for you,” Leona mutters, barely concealing a snicker. “Sure. Or just watching you.” He tilts his head, examining you as if you’re some rare species that’s suddenly shown up in the savanna. “You sure he hasn’t put a spell on you? You sound completely out of it.”

You smirk. “Leona, you’re just not used to people showing appreciation.”

Leona narrows his eyes, amusement flickering in his gaze. “You keep saying stuff like that, herbivore, and I’m gonna assume you’ve completely lost it.” He yawns and flops back onto the couch, muttering under his breath, “That crazy hunter and his weird haikus…”

You walk away, oblivious, and Leona just shakes his head with a smirk, quietly wondering if he’ll end up having to pry Rook off of you someday.

Intervention Attempt 3: Riddle

Riddle stares at you over his teacup, his brows knit with concern as you talk about your latest “date” with Rook. You've barely started describing his newest poetic declaration when Riddle sets his cup down, looking thoroughly alarmed.

“I… don’t understand,” he interrupts. “Did you say he was waiting in the shadows outside your dorm window at midnight? And he… recited sonnets?”

You nod, completely unbothered. “Oh, yes! And he was so sweet about it. He even had a rose between his teeth, Riddle. He really went all out.”

Riddle’s expression looks like he’s been hit with cold water. “And you… didn’t feel unsafe?”

“Why would I?” you laugh, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s Rook. He’s just being his passionate self.”

Riddle’s face hardens, and he stands up, clutching his teacup with barely contained fury. “This is unacceptable! You must report this immediately—stalking is a severe issue! You don’t have to tolerate this treatment, no matter how he frames it!”

You blink, surprised. “Riddle, it’s really okay. He’s not stalking me; he’s just… really attentive.”

Riddle’s lips thin, and he looks at you with pity, as if you're just too naive to understand the danger you’re in. “It’s worse than I thought,” he mutters, eyes blazing. “He’s… he’s manipulating you into thinking this is acceptable!”

Riddle finally sighs, shaking his head. “If you’re too afraid to tell him off, I’ll do it for you. As a dorm leader, it’s my duty to protect students in my care.”

“Riddle, I appreciate it, but I don’t need protection,” you insist, patting him on the shoulder. “Rook is harmless.”

Riddle huffs, looking like he’s already planning out the verbal lashing he’s going to deliver to Rook the next time he sees him. “You’ll see,” he says. “When you realize the danger, remember I warned you.”

You just smile, and he glances at you like you’re a sheep walking happily into a lion’s den.

Intervention Attempt 4: Malleus (And Lilia?)

When Malleus summons you to Diasomnia for what he calls an “urgent matter,” you’re intrigued. However, when you arrive, his expression is downright grave. The flickering candlelight gives his face an eerie glow as he looks at you, his usually calm demeanor laced with worry.

He leans in close, and his eyes narrow. “I understand you… spend much time with Rook,” he says, voice almost a whisper.

“Uh, yeah? We’re dating,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Malleus blinks, clearly taken aback, as if he was expecting an entirely different answer. “So you willingly… permit him to lurk in the shadows around you?”

“Well, yes, he’s got that whole poetic ‘silent protector’ thing going on.” You shrug, but Malleus doesn’t look any less alarmed.

“I see,” Malleus says, more to himself than to you. “So he’s already gained control over you.” He sighs, looking deeply concerned. “Fear not. I will protect you from him.”

Before you can respond, Lilia, who’s been silently watching with a smirk, bursts into laughter.

“Oh, Malleus, you’re taking this far too seriously,” he cackles, clapping a hand on Malleus’s shoulder. “Rook isn’t dangerous—well, unless you count bad poetry as a weapon.”

Malleus doesn’t look convinced. “You find this funny?” he asks, frowning.

“Of course I do!” Lilia grins, wiping a tear of laughter from his eye. “They’re dating, Malleus. Rook doesn’t even know how to scare a fly when it comes to them.”

Malleus turns back to you, still worried. “Are you… certain you’re safe?”

You nod, but the look of pity in his eyes says he’s clearly unconvinced, as if he thinks you’re only defending Rook out of fear. Meanwhile, Lilia gives you a wink and a mischievous grin, enjoying the absurdity of the whole situation.

Intervention Attempt 5: Azul

You’re strolling past the Mostro Lounge, hoping to grab some food, when Azul intercepts you, looking unusually serious. He gestures for you to follow him into a private corner, glancing around as if he's worried someone might overhear.

“I understand you’ve been spending quite a bit of time with Rook,” he says, his tone grave, though there’s a glint in his eyes that tells you he’s already calculating something.

You raise an eyebrow. “Yeah, we’re dating.”

Azul’s expression shifts to something between shock and pity, as if he’s just heard you’ve taken up with the Grim Reaper himself. “Dating? So… you’re aware he’s stalking you?”

You shrug. “He’s not stalking—he’s just keeping an eye out. Very vigilant, actually.”

Azul’s face darkens. “Right… vigilant.” He clears his throat. “In that case, allow me to offer the services of Floyd and Jade for your… protection.”

You blink. “Protection?”

“Yes. For a reasonable price, of course,” he says with a smooth smile, back to his usual self. “Consider it a sort of… insurance in case this arrangement with Rook takes a… dramatic turn.”

He leans forward, lowering his voice. “Imagine if you had two skilled guards who could tail him as closely as he tails you.”

Before you can respond, Floyd appears out of nowhere, draping an arm over your shoulder and grinning. “We could totally scare him, too. Make him feel like he’s the one being hunted!”

Jade nods from behind him, his smile too sharp to be comforting. “Yes, we’re more than happy to shadow Rook if you’d like.”

You stare at the twins, whose predatory smiles seem to stretch further the longer they look at you. “Guys, I appreciate the offer, but Rook’s fine. I’m not being held captive.”

Azul raises an eyebrow, but he doesn’t push, instead sighing in that dramatic way of his. “Very well. The offer stands should you need it. Just remember: one word, and we’re at your service.”

As you walk away, you catch a quiet exchange between the twins.

“Do you think we’d even get the chance to tail him, Jade?”

“Hmm… I’d say it’s more likely he’d follow us, Floyd.”

You shake your head, amused. Only Azul would find a way to capitalize on your love life.

Intervention(?) Attempt 6: Vil

You’re backstage in Pomefiore, helping Vil with his costume adjustments for his latest role when he pauses, hands on his hips, giving you a long, evaluative look.

“So… you and Rook?” he finally says, an eyebrow raised with an almost resigned air.

“Yeah.” You grin, shrugging. “I mean, he’s… intense, but it works.”

Vil sighs, pressing two fingers to his temple as if that would ward off the headache he’s certain to get from this conversation. “You realize that most people would find his behavior concerning, right?”

You wave him off. “He’s harmless. Just… expressive.”

He gives a soft, humorless laugh, as though he’s not sure if you’re just that naive or that confident. “You’re both completely mad, you know that?”

“Maybe,” you say, leaning back with a shrug. “But I like it that way.”

Vil sighs again, and there’s a glimmer of a smile, even if it’s hidden behind a look of sheer exasperation. “Well, at least he won’t make you look bad. He’ll be too busy swooning in the background to do anything truly reckless.” He adjusts your collar with an air of finality, giving you a nod. “Good luck. You’ll need it.”

And with that, he returns to his preparations, mumbling something under his breath about how only you could take Rook’s intensity as a “feature” rather than a “warning sign.” But you catch the faint smile on his face as he walks away, leaving you feeling oddly reassured.

Final Intervention: Idia

Idia’s “intervention” is the sort of spectacle that would probably have your other friends dial emergency numbers if they walked in. He's got his laptop perched on a stack of comics, his tablet propped up, and an honest-to-Seven laser pointer he’s brandishing like it’s going to physically ward off any poor life choices.

He points at his first diagram, titled in neon-green font: "Why Your Boyfriend Should Not Be Tracking Your Every Move Like a Supervillain”. It's complete with cartoonish red arrows and diagrams that could pass for an undergrad thesis on questionable behavior.

Rook’s sitting beside you, nodding along with a strangely approving look, as if Idia's crude drawings are just part of the "unrefined genius" he'd expect from mere mortals.

When Idia clicks to his next slide—a very intense pie chart on “Reasons You’re Definitely in Danger"—you shrug. “Look, Idia, everyone’s got their quirks, right? He leaves poetry scrolls for me; you send messages only through encrypted text channels with six layers of memes as the header.”

Idia stares at you, blinking, and drops his laser pointer. It rolls pathetically across the floor, and he looks like he’s two seconds away from fainting. “Th-This isn’t the same! I don’t leave my IP address in your flowerbeds!”

Rook, thrilled, interjects. “Ah, but would you not feel a poetic stirring in your heart if you did, monsieur? Every new line I compose is a love letter to the chase!”

Idia sways. You’re genuinely worried he might black out.

Life, as it turns out, continues with a healthy dose of Rook’s “love language,” which to everyone else looks like the dictionary definition of a security risk.

Yet, you find yourself smiling every time he swoops in with that glittering look in his eyes, poetry scrolls under his arm and a thousand strange ideas.

And even if everyone around you is either looking into exorcisms or planning escape routes, for you, it’s just another day of living your best life.

Masterlist

[simpjaes]

you need to continue that jayhoon for my mental sanity PLEASE 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

continuation of this. or, the one where Jay really wants to bottom for sunghoon since he can never find a girl, so...he does.

Warnings: they fuck this time, as in, dude on dude. cock in butt. anal sex. two dicks in the frame.

IF YOU HAVE AN ISSUE WITH SHIP FICS OR MXM THAT'S FINE. Don't hate on me because i like to have fun with fiction. none of this is real, and no, i don't ship them in real life.

-

Sunghoon's knees press into the bed as he perches himself above his friend. Never has he seen Jay from this angle, nor has he even seen him this vulnerable, this naked, this...sexy. He stares down at his cock in hand, aimed right at Jay's ass and bites the inside of his cheek. Finally, he's getting to fuck something. Someone. And he doesn't find himself disappointed that the person is not a woman. Instead, he's...excited?

Jay's voice rings out in heavy breaths, wiggling his ass in front of Sunghoon, furrowing his brows, huffing and puffing out of frustration. "Are you gonna-" He starts, but inhales mid-sentence at the feeling of his friend's bulbous cockhead pressing at his entrance. God, Jay has fucking dreamed of this day. Especially after always watching Sunghoon wander around with that huge fucking cock of his, heavy, always yearning to be inside of someone.

There's a pit somewhere in his stomach about the consequences of this. Taking advantage of Sunghoon's need to fuck is one thing, but it's not like Jay did anything other than offer himself up as a fuck-doll. Doing this, at the end of the day, was Sunghoon's own choice. And if Jay's the one who ends up hurting at the end of it, in more way than just one, so fucking be it. "Jesu- fuck. Jay," Sunghoon seethes in near amazement, holding his breath at how he tries to push his cock inside. There was prep, of course, albeit by Jay himself as Sunghoon watched and took mental notes. Right there on the bed, Jay had bent over shyly, licking and sucking on his fingers just to slide them inside of himself. On fucking display. Sunghoon was surprised his cock didn't soften at the image of his own friend doing this. The same friend who did gross manly things around him. The same one who always looks and acts like a fucking slob when he's comfortable. Sunghoon watched as Jay's cock grew harder with each slide of his own fingers too, and that...was very attractive to him. Such a clean looking hole Jay has, warm and pulsing around his fingers, as wet as any pussy would be if Sunghoon ever managed to land one to fuck. And his cock, equally as clean, thick, pulsing just like his own was. Sunghoon wasn't sure what it was about all of this that made him feel like he's going insane, but he also didn't really care. It's that fact that now...he's feeling fucking floored. "It's so, so tight." Sunghoon finally finishes his sentence, jerking his hips to try and stuff another half-inch of his length inside of his friend. "Doesn't it hurt?" Jay just moans in response, his ass clenching with each push, but he relishes in the stretch as always. Given, this is also the first time he's ever actually bottomed for a man. Which, that's not something Sunghoon has to know unless, well, he asks. Truly, as a bisexual man, Jay always found himself on top but wondering how good it must feel to get fucked open by a sexy, well-hung man. He's played with himself and toys alike countless times wondering how good it must be to have something warm, something pulsing inside of him. And now, he's getting to experience it. Does it hurt? Yes. "Deeper." Jay mutters, pressing himself back and forcing more into himself, listening closely to the way Sunghoon keeps holding his breath, struggling to hold in his moans. And by the time he's finally bottomed out, Jay is entirely cross-eyed, much like Sunghoon who sits in place and doesn't dare move out of fear that he'll not only hurt his friend, but himself with how fucking tight Jay is. It's kind of...heavenly. Divine, in a way, to fuck your best friend's ass open solely because both of you needed something the other could offer. Sunghoon finds himself smirking now, staring at the back of Jay's head and wanting to reach forward and grab a handful of hair. If just to hear him release those slutty moans again, if just to know that Jay wants him like this. That he doesn't feel weird, or awkward. That Sunghoon's cock feels so good in him, that he will be his bitch of a girlfriend is he so wanted him to be. "I can't get any deeper, Jay." Sunghoon mutters, doing just as he pleases and absolutely grabbing a handful of his hair, craning Jay's neck back and forcing him to make strained eye contact. "You know I'm never gonna look at you the same way again, right?" He adds now, pulling his hips back slightly to test the pain of it, only to shiver in pleasure and slam his cock back in.

What shocks Sunghoon more than Jay's feminine and stuttered moan at that, well, is the fact that it's making him forget that they're both still men. They both still have strength that rivals the other, so upon that first harsh thrust, feeling Jay press himself up, twisting himself just enough to brush his lips against Sunghoon's chin-

Yeah. It's a little shocking that Sunghoon finds himself dipping his head, kissing Jay for the first time, fucking him for the first time, entirely enamored with what he has to offer. And that's how it goes, he supposes. Fucking into Jay like he would anyone else, only feeling the tight heat strangle his cock more than any cunt could. It gets to the point where Sunghoon feels his brain hit a wall, wanting the man under him so fucking badly. To the point he wants the eye contact, he wants to fucking see how Jay takes it. He flips them over, now lying flat on his back with a deep rumbled moan.

"Can you ride?" Sunghoon nearly sputters, feeling the way Jay bounces immediately as if to prove a point. His hair falling in his eyes with each bounce, mouth slack as he huffs out little groans and high pitched breaths. Goddamn. He can ride.

[sensationallysangwoo]

𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚝𝚞𝚊𝚛𝚢: 𝙲𝚑𝚘 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚆𝚘𝚘 𝚡 𝚁𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏💙

💙𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚂𝚊𝚗𝚐-𝚠𝚘𝚘 𝚝𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚊 𝚛𝚎𝚕𝚊𝚡𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚙𝚘𝚜𝚝-𝚜𝚎𝚡 𝚜𝚑𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚘𝚐𝚎𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛. 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚋𝚊𝚜𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚎𝚊𝚌𝚑 𝚘𝚝𝚑𝚎𝚛’𝚜 𝚙𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚎 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚗𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚛 𝚠𝚊𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚖𝚘𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝚝𝚘 𝚎𝚗𝚍.💙

💙𝙲𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚗𝚝: 𝙿𝚞𝚛𝚎 𝙵𝚕𝚞𝚏𝚏. 𝙱𝚛𝚒𝚎𝚏 𝚖𝚎𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚘𝚏 𝚜𝚎𝚡. 💙

Taglist: @trashk1tty , @torasgfreal, @dilfismz , @pulparindos , @reddead-salem, @daeholuvs , @radarbiterlover, @partyb0yyyy

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

The pitter patter of the water droplets against the ceramic shower floor creates its own relaxing song. Sang-woo’s back faces you, bare and beautifully torn up from the activities that just transpired moments ago. “C’mon princess. It’s warm now.”

You both step into the shower, sighing at the sensation of the hot droplets kissing your skin. There’s nothing better than a nice hot shower. Correction—there’s nothing better than a nice hot shower with the love of your life.

You’re standing in the shower facing Sang-woo, and he flashes his signature smile at you. Bashful, brief, his top teeth peeking out at you for one second. Your heart flutters at his attractiveness. “Let me get you cleaned up, my love. We sure had fun, didn’t we?” His deep voice bounces off the shower walls.

“Had so much fun.” You giggle. Your brain flashes images of the passionate love the two of you made. You’ll be saving those mental images for when he’s at work.

Sang-woo reaches for the body wash. It’s your favorite scent. The scent you started using when you and him began dating. It holds such fond memories and every time it graces your nose you think of when it all started.

He starts lathering the soap all over your body gently. It feels wonderful, his large hands massaging every inch of you in such a sweet and affectionate manor. This is his way of taking care of you. He sees you as something to protect, to love, to care for and nurture. Behind that quiet, calculated facade is a man who just wants to love and be loved. No one would know but you, though.

“Turn around.”

His fingers sink into the soft flesh of your shoulders, massaging and squeezing out every knot. He washes your back and you feel your eyes flutter shut, relishing in every touch given to you by your precious Sang-woo. Oh, how you want to freeze time and live in this shower for eternity.

His turn. You grab the soap from him and start trailing your fingers down his perfect body, leaving an array of bubbles all over his skin. Every ridge and curve of his toned abdomen under your fingertips made you question how you even got a man so perfect to be yours.

Sang-woo melts into your touch. You lean in to kiss his lips softly as your soapy hands caress his sides. This moment is everything he’s ever dreamed of and more. Before you came along, he was as touch starved as ever. Now he can’t get enough of you. Your hands. Your lips. Each gentle touch and delicate kiss makes him crave more.

His heart swells with contentment as you reach up and shampoo his hair. You push back the dark black bangs that live on his forehead and just take in the sight of the handsome man before you.

He does the same for you, his short fingernails scratching at your scalp just the way you like. The shower is a sanctuary for Sang-woo and yourself. Here, the two of you get to love and appreciate the rawest forms of each other in a non-sexual way. Pure love and admiration.

Looking up at him, you see his expression shift from alert to tired. A small smile tugs at his lips as he looks at you through half lidded eyes. The suds are gone and it’s time to retreat to the warmth of the bed and each other’s arms.

You kiss him once more, this time deeply til you both nearly run out of air. You turn off the shower and cling to Sang-woo as the bathroom air begins to cool off. Warm PJ’s, a nice thick comforter, and many years of showertimes await you, with your beloved Sang-woo by your side.

💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Well hopefully you guys liked this one!! I got a little sappy here I’m SORRY I HAVE A BIG HEART FOR HIM. Anyways thank you again @reddead-salem for this freaking adorable idea. Have a great night everyone see ya in the next one! ✌️💙

[keferon]

Blurr and Swerve (set sometime during the Blurr chapter when Blurr first gets his mech), because these two have apparently taken up residence in my brain

--------------------------------------------------

Swerve wonders, waiting for Blurr to show up to inspect his new mech, if Blurr has ever felt anything less than confident, less than certain. 

Does he have any hesitation or doubts about joining the mecha program, becoming a pilot? 

If he has, you'd never know it by the way he walks into the mechanic's hall like he owns the place – accompanied by a flustered looking staffer from the upper floors and a full five minutes later than when he was scheduled to arrive.  (Not that anyone seems to care whether Blurr keeps to a schedule or how much it disrupts everyone else's ability to just do their jobs. He's Blurr after all.)

Swerve watches Blurr walk away from the staffer with barely a thank you.  Watches as Blurr asks one, two, then three times for directions as he crosses the long hall.  And each time he's greeted with smiles, attempts at conversation, and people kindly pointing out Swerve's direction.  And each time, Blurr gives the same thank you – short and dismissive, without a backward glance.

Swerve wonders, as he watches, whether Blurr ever feels shame or has second thoughts about how he treats everyone else as though they are less than him. 

If he does, it certainly doesn't show from the way that lazy grin never slips from his face the whole way across the hall.  Even up close, even as Swerve shakes Blurr's hand and has to reintroduce himself and remind the man that they've met before (and how many times has it been now?), Blurr's smile never wavers.

Does it ever falter when Blurr is alone?  Does the smile ever slip from his face as he thinks back on his actions in private?  Or is it just a permanent feature of the man -- along with the shining eyes, blindingly white teeth, and immaculate hair.  Superficially perfect in every way to an extent that standing next to Blurr is enough on its own to make Swerve feel special.

And then Blurr is gone, moving to inspect his mech.  And the shallowness of it all hits Swerve in full force again.

Swerve wonders, watching Blurr move under the shadow of the looming metal machine, whether the man ever feels fear. 

Does he realize that mechs are synonymous with death?  That the machine he is standing under is built to kill.  Aliens, yes.  But pilots die too -- alarmingly often.  Even if Blurr isn't on the front lines (and Swerve can't imagine Swindle risking his money on that) there are still risks.  Accidents.  Injuries.  Deaths.  Would he care if he knew?  Maybe his ego is such that he believes such fates are for lesser men.

But Blurr's mech in particular – Swerve worked on the specs for Blurr's mech.  Does the man realize that his machine is a death trap? 

Maybe ignorance truly is bliss.  Swerve wonders whether he should tell him.  Swerve wonders whether it would even matter.  Would Blurr even listen, if he pulls him aside?

Swerve never gets the chance.  He is crowded out by a swarm of photographers, staffers, and mechanics -- come to watch Blurr set foot in his mech for the first time.

Blurr hops into the pilot's seat as casually as though he's taking his car out for a drive around the block.  He smiles that blinding smile down at the crowd and waves for the cameras.

And Swerve wonders, watching Blurr, whether he envies the way Blurr can just breeze through life seemingly untouched and unphased by it all.

ANON I LOVE YOU MARRY ME /J

This is absolutely delightful ehehhengkgkhmh it synchronizes SO WELL with my mental image of them you literally caught my brain waves lglmgkg i love it so fucking much it's part of the canon for me now

[gremlinmodetweeker]

König and Horangi as a Cat Hybrids

I had this mental image of a new AU but I don't have my tablet to draw on so I'm just gonna vomit out my new AU thoughts.

What about König and Horangi as cat hybrids that reader unknowingly adopts? She just sees these two ragtag cats outside, feels really bad and starts feeding them. Eventually, they start bonding to her so they follow her home. It's kinda hard to tell a cat no when it just sorta walks through the front door (Horangi first and König nervously scooting in afterwards).

It's hard to believe Horangi is a stray. He's a glorious little toyger cat and he's swanning around loving the place up. He is a personality plus cat. He's genuinely the best companion, but also the loudest companion. Will scream at 6am for food. That wakes up König, and König will sit on your face in an attempt to suffocate you for food. They are a horrific duo.

Anyways, Horangi is a great cat but he never leaves either you or König alone. He does not understand the concept of personal space. He's there. Everywhere. You cannot escape loudmouth Horangi. He has opinions and he must share them. Sometimes König will resort to laying on him in an attempt to get him to shut up.

Horangi's also a bit of a jackass. He'll purposefully make messes to laugh at you. He will swat your drinks off the table and steal your keys and hide them in the cat tree. He'll also hide under beds and swat your ankles. He's a devil cat and he's proud of it.

König, on the other hand, is a bit of a ghost cat. You sometimes forget you have two cats. However, when König makes his presence known, it's impossible to ignore. Mostly because he vomits on your carpet and then looks at you sadly. He would clean it up, but that would blow his cover. So instead, he watches as you deal with his problems. He knows what you must do, and for that he is sorry.

König is a ratty black maine coon cat, or maybe a ragdoll. Can't decide yet. Either way, he's a bit uggo but if you just brushed him he'd look fine. His eyes are always crusty and leaking and he'll squirm like a bastard if you try to clean him up. He's a crusty man and he likes it that way.

Most of König's antics revolve around food or being a crusty cat. He is such a food-driven animal that it's insane. He only wants to eat and he will do anything to get to food. He's trampled Horangi numerous times when the dinner bell's been rung. He does everything he can to earn more treats and it's a bit frightening. You're also worried he's gaining weight. You're particularly worried because the way König deals with Horangi's antics is by sitting on him until he stops. He also tries to sit on you to stop you from going places. This is cute until he digs his claws in and hangs on for dear life.

König and Horangi like to stay in their cat forms as often as possible. Quite simply, it's comfortable. Free food, plenty of belly scratches, König gets regular baths so he doesn't smell like a crusty old man, it's a good life for the two of them. Mind you König isn't even that old, he's just crusty.

I just wonder what would be the thing to make reader realize that her two crusty cats are actually crusty men living in her apartment rent-free..

[joelalorian]

Fall Into Me - Epilogue

dbf!joel x f!reader | WC: 3.7k | E 18+ mdni

Series Summary: Joel is hanging on by a thread as a single father to a tenacious 10-year-old Sarah. Feeling like he's drowning, like the world is about to spit him out, he needs some help before he breaks in half. At your dad's insistence, you show up in his life and change everything.

Chapter Tags/Warnings: Explicit, under 18 take a hike. No outbreak AU. A wedding, father/daughter dance, tears, laughter, unprotected p in v (reader's on birth control and they're married now so...), Sarah calls reader Mom, mention of Ellie...

A/N: This is the end, folks! They are a real family now. I'm not crying, you're crying. As we all know by now, this fic was inspired by the song Fall Into Me. Another song dear to me inspired a particular scene in this chapter - Butterfly Kisses. Check it out if you'd like. **it always makes me cry, so beware** This story is dear to my hear and I'm grateful for all the love it has received. Thank you for joining me on this journey!

Moodboard by the lovely @mrsmando. Dividers by the wonderful @saradika-graphics

Chapter Eleven | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

The autumn sun began its descent, painting the sky in beautiful shades of orange and red as it approached the horizon. Joel stared out the double-paned glass, too focused on calming his nerves to enjoy the rolling landscape of the vineyard below. Palms sweaty and heart thumping heavily in his chest, he tugged at the collar of his dress shirt, popping the top two buttons open to help him breathe.

“Cold feet, son?” JB questioned from the doorway before slipping fully into the room. Tommy followed behind him, anxious to see why Joel was taking so long.

Their presence startled Joel and he grimaced. “Not me,” he grunted, still struggling to inhale deep, full breathes as his heart raced.

“You sure about that, brother?”

Joel directed a scowl in Tommy’s direction. “I don’t have cold feet, but I’m terrified she does,” he admitted gruffly. He couldn’t meet the other men’s eyes, feeling vulnerable.

“I promise you, son. Spud does not have cold feet,” JB soothed. “In fact, she has much the same worry about you.”

“A match made in heaven, I’d say,” Tommy chimed in with a grin, bumping his shoulder against Joel’s.

“Come on, now. Get your asses down to the vineyard before Maria comes looking for ya. She’s on a war path, that girl a’ yours,” JB directed with a wink to Tommy. “I gotta get back to Spud, make sure she doesn’t run off to find you before it’s time. Meet again at the altar, fellas.”

The brothers watched your dad leave. Throwing an arm around Joel’s shoulder, Tommy led him toward the door. “The ol’ bastard was telling the truth, ya know. She’s terrified of you getting cold feet. Emily and Sarah have been calming her down for an hour now, insisting that you can’t wait to marry her. That girl loves you more than anything, brother.”

Joel beamed, eyes softening at the thought of you walking towards him in a flowing white dress, wildflowers clutched in your hand, and eyes brimming with tears of absolute joy. The mental image soothed his nerves more than any words could and he finally let Tommy lead him from the room.

Fresh air with the slightest chill met them as they exited the building. The soft hum of a string quartet filled the air while guests arrived and took their seats. A charming wooden arbor adorned with colorful flowers, delicate greenery, and a white sash served as the altar at which the two of you would become husband and wife.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Joel walked down the aisle, nodding at some of the guests as he took his place in front of the arbor. He stood tall, looking undeniably handsome in a slate gray suit sans tie, the top few buttons of the ruby colored dress shirt left open offering a glimpse of his tanned chest and a sprinkle of hair. Thick curls were swept back from his face, facial hair trimmed to perfection with that little heart-shaped bare patch visible.

Stepping up to his left side, Tommy smiled broadly at the small crowd. His longer curls were tied back neatly, and he tucked a few stray locks behind his ears and sent a cheeky wink to his woman sitting in the front row. Maria rolled her eyes playfully. Tommy watched Joel’s hand flex, fingers bouncing against thigh in a nervous tick he had since childhood and braced a hand on his shoulder. “You got this, big brother.”

Before Joel could respond, the string quartet began to play Pachelbel’s Canon and he stood taller, eyes locked down the aisle in anticipation of seeing you. Tommy rushed off to the side to take his place in the processional.

Sarah appeared from behind a row of lush, thick vines, looking like an angel in a white dress with a ribbon of material matching Joel’s shirt tied around her waist. The little girl insisted that her dress match yours, not understanding that, traditionally, only the bride wore white. But you didn’t give a hoot about tradition, helping Sarah to find the perfect white dress, adding the sash as something unique. The recollection of the joy on Sarah���s face when she tried on the dress for the first time made Joel’s heart melt.

Sarah danced down the aisle; face lit up with glee as she scattered rose petals along the way from a small wicker basket clutched in one hand. When she reached the end of the aisle, she spun in a circle, allowing her dress to flutter around her, and tossed the last of the rose petals into the air, much to the delight of the guests and her father.

“Hi Daddy!” Sarah called, bouncing over to the place she was told to stand the evening before. Joel melted at the happiness on his daughter’s face, and he beamed back at her proudly. The little girl’s antics drew a soft rumble of laughter from the guests before all attention turned back down the aisle.

Tommy and Emily stepped past the vines next, looking resplendent in their formal wear, the shade of Emily’s dress reminiscent of a glass of finest pinot noir, matching the hue of Tommy’s dress shirt. Joel nodded at them as they approached, lips quirked in a half smile. His hand clenched at his side as he fought back the nerves again.

Moments later, the rest of the world fell away when you appeared, one hand clasped around your dad’s arm. The charming colors of the setting sun were no match for your beauty. Joel had never seen anyone or anything so perfect in his entire life. A crown of vibrant flower blossoms secured in your hair, the breeze rustled a few locks and the short train of your simple white gown.

Joel couldn’t take his eyes off you – not as you walked down the aisle to him, or when JB shook his hand in that ceremonial way of giving you to him, and certainly not as the officiant rambled through the ceremony. To put it simply, you mesmerized him.

He would almost regret it later, but the entire ceremony was a blur. The only parts he remembered included your face smiling broadly at him, the love in your glistening eyes as you repeated the vows you chose together, and the kiss after being declared man and wife.

“You’re stuck with me forever now, darlin’,” Joel’s gravelly voice rumbled in your ear after the sweet kiss.

Your tinkling laughter carried in air, spreading merriment throughout the vineyard. “Oh no, whatever will I do,” you whispered back.

“Can we go dance now?” Eager to get on with the fun part, Sarah interrupted your little moment.

“Of course, nugget. Let’s go dance!”

The little girl squeezed her way in between the two of you and having tossed her empty flower basket aside without care, slipping her hand in yours and the other in Joel’s to tug you both back down the aisle.

“Someone’s eager to get the party started,” Joel chuckled, lips spread in a jaw-aching grin as his little family made their way to the reception area. Your eyes sparkled back at him, full of happiness and love.

The winery boasted a lodge with an oversized deck suitable for your small celebration and enough rooms for the guest to stay the night. The path from the ceremonial area back to the lodge weaved through thickets of grape vines, plump fruit nearly ripe for the picking as the three of you ducked under and around the vines.

The vineyard was charming, a lucky find in your search for the perfect wedding venue. It was the only compromise Joel willingly made on a venue – he longed for a quiet, backyard wedding, but you insisted on something slightly grander in scale.

Maria and Tommy did a great job of recreating the ambiance of that night long ago in Joel’s backyard for the reception. Fairy lights were strung high across the deck, music playing softly as the guests mingled with cocktails and hors d'oeuvres in hand. High top tables were scattered about, centerpieces full of colorful hydrangeas.

It was perfect.

Wanting to save money, you kept the guest list to less than thirty people, mostly family and close friends, and opted for a bulk purchase of disposable cameras rather than springing for the cost of a wedding photographer. In addition, you insisted on a tier of cupcakes over an actual wedding cake, the icing matching the ruby red color of wine. Sarah and JB offered to put together an eclectic playlist for the winery to play through their sound system rather than put forth the cost of a band or DJ. All in all, it was an entirely family run affair that didn’t break the bank and you couldn’t be happier for it.

You and Joel mingled with the guests for a while before it was time for your first dance. Staying on theme, Joel had one request regarding your wedding song – it had to be Fall Into Me. You could hardly deny that one request, especially as the song meant so much to the both of you, practically telling the story of how you came together. Just like that night in his yard, Joel sang the words in a soft, quiet voice meant only for you, your bodies swaying side to side across the floor like you were the only two there.

None too soon, your dad led Sarah onto the dance floor, letting her stand on his feet as he danced around, just like he used to do when you were little. Maria and Tommy soon joined them, along with Emily and her husband. Before long, the party was in full swing.

You fought back tears during the father-daughter dance. Just as Sarah insisted on her dress matching yours, she wanted to dance with Joel during the traditional time. You were more than happy to have them join you. The battle against the tears was lost during the first chorus of Butterfly Kisses.

JB held you tighter as the first tear fell, brushing it away with a calloused thumb. “Feels like just yesterday when you would dance around on my feet like that,” he said, voice rough and quiet with the choke of tears in his throat. “Now here you are, grown up and married, with a family all your own. You’re not my little Spud anymore.”

Thank fuck for waterproof mascara, you thought as a sob escaped. “Dad,” you drew out the word in a sob, tears flooding your eyes, falling faster. You could barely get out the next words, throat aching and vision blurry. “I’ll always be your little Spud, no matter how old I am.”

Joel danced closer to you, checking in with a concerned look as you cried. “Darlin’, you alright?” His eyes darted between you and JB, the shimmer in the older man’s eyes matching his own. Dark eyes softened into molten chocolate, and he gestured to your dad to switch partners.

JB let you go after a bone crushing hug and a kiss to your forehead. “Take care of my girl, ya hear?”

Nodding solemnly, Joel shook JB’s hand. “Always.” He ushered Sarah into JB’s arms, letting them dance for the rest of the song as he pulled you close. Joel pulled a handkerchief from his pocket. “I told you this song would make you cry, darlin’.  Let me wipe those tears away.”

Sniffling, your lips tilted up in a watery smile as he dabbed gently at your face. “I know, it always does. But it’s so beautiful, I had to include it.”

“Almost as beautiful as you,” Joel murmured, head nuzzled against yours. “Sarah already told me she’ll have this song at her wedding, too. I just know I’ll be crying like a god damned baby during the dance.”

That earned a laugh from you, the tears finally easing as the song ended. “Has she started planning her dream wedding already?” Joel nodded, a chuckle rumbling softly in your ear.

The evening carried on, dancing and drinking and laughing with everyone in celebration of you and Joel. You never really imagined your wedding as a kid, more concerned with being a tomboy and other, more important things. But you think now that if you had it likely would have imagined something exactly like this.

“Come on, Mrs. Miller,” Joel said when the lights finally dimmed, and the notes of the final song faded into the night. “It’s time to say goodnight to our guests.”

“Congrats, brother!” Tommy called cheerfully when you and Joel approached. His eyes large and glassy, a slight slur to his words providing evidence of a thoroughly enjoyable evening. “You two throw a great party. Do you need us to watch Sarah for the night so you can—”

“Alright you,” Maria jumped in, cutting the younger, drunker Miller brother off. “I doubt they want your drunk ass watching Sarah. Do you have someone lined up?”

“Oh, yeah, we’re good there. My dad is hosting a sleepover now that he is officially a grandpa. He’s insisting on being called Poppy just like I called my grandad.” You laughed at the memory of that conversation. JB was so excited to have a new nickname just for Sarah.

“Great! I would have been more than happy to help out but I’m going to have my hands full with this one,” Maria said with a gesture to Tommy where he swayed on his feet with a cheesy grin plastered on his face.

“Alone at last,” Joel whispered, carrying you through the threshold of the wedding suite. “You look beautiful in this dress, but I can’t wait to get you out of it.”

Any exhaustion you felt from the long, exciting day vanished at the smoldering look in your husband’s eyes. Your husband. Holy hell. Suddenly nervous, you slowly slipped the dress from your shoulders. Though you and Joel had been together more times than you could count, this would be the first time you had sex as a married couple.

Would his expectations be different? Should they be? Were you expecting something different? Should you? Fuck, why didn’t you think to ask Emily about this earlier?

“Darlin’?”

You glanced up to see Joel’s brows furrowed, realizing that you zoned out with your dress still around your hips. Warmth spread through your cheeks in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Joel. I’m… I’m a little nervous for some reason and got in my head about it.”

His lips tilted upwards as he stepped closer to help ease the dress down your body with gentle movements, knowing exactly what you needed to hear. “There’s no need to be nervous, sweetheart. It’s just you and me, like it always has been. We just have rings on our fingers now.”

And just like that, all worries fled your mind.

Once your dress was out of the way, Joel helped remove your bra and panties, leaving behind a trail of kisses on your dewy skin. His calloused hands, large but gentle, caressed every inch of bare skin before him, trousers growing tight as his body reacted to the sight of you.

His pupils dilated before your eyes and you pressed your lips to his, tongue teasing into his mouth to tangle with his in a searing kiss. He tasted of whiskey and chocolate and something so uniquely Joel, and you drank in the taste like a starving woman.

Still wearing far too much clothing for your liking, you ripped open his dress shirt, sending the buttons flying across the room. Oops. Manicured nails scratched down his bare chest, along his belly, until your fingers met the confining layer of his pants. After watching you fumble with his belt for too long – which, in reality, was only like two seconds, you swear – Joel brushed your hands aside and, without breaking the kiss, yanked the belt open and practically ripped his pants open to free his aching cock.

“What a lucky wife I am,” you purred, breaking the kiss, as your hand grasped his length. Your thumb traced over the bulbous head, smearing the precum pooling there, before bringing it back to your mouth for a little taste. “I get to experience this for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t tease, darlin’,” he growled low in his throat. “Besides, I’m the lucky one. I have the sexiest wife.”

Pants and boxer briefs shoved to the floor, Joel ripped off his socks and swept you right off your feet. Your legs automatically wrapped around his hips as he walked to the large bed. Kneeling on the mattress, he never let go as he settled you on your back.

Already dripping for him, and too anxious to have him inside you already, you didn’t need any foreplay to be ready. His cock slid, with torturous slowness, inside your warm walls with the slightest nudge of his hips. “Fuck, darlin’, you’re so tight,” he breathed against your neck, teeth scraping against the sensitive skin as he fucked into you.

A pleasurable burn spread through you, his cock splitting you open. “Mmm, so good. Fuck me, dear husband. Fuck me like you mean it.”

“As my wife wishes.”

Hips snapping, Joel set the perfect pace to bring you to the edge, heels digging into his ass with each powerful thrust. Fingernails scratched down his back, piercing the skin as he brought you to the peak, the orgasm causing your back to arch and muscles to spasm.

“Fuck, baby, you’re squeezing my cock like a fuckin’ vise. Gonna make me come too soon.”

The orgasm seemed to last forever, pleasure washing over you in waves until you trembled beneath Joel. “It’s never too soon. Come for me, babe,” you gasped when the ability to speak finally returned.

Joel’s thrusts became sloppy near the tail end of your climax, and he spilled inside you as soon as the words left your mouth. His ragged breaths tickled your ear, sending gooseflesh down your body from neck to toes. Your name fell like a prayer from his lips, praising you for how good you made him feel.

“I love you, Mr. Miller,” you said, peppering his handsome face with kisses when he slipped from you and fell to the side with a heaving chest.

“And I love you, Mrs. Miller.”

You don’t know where either of you found the energy, but you made love twice more that night and once again in the morning. After each time, you admired the sparkle of the rings adorning your left hands, the jewelry a tangible symbol of your commitment to each other in this life and the next.

“Mom?” Sarah asked from where she sat doing homework at the breakfast bar while you made dinner. Joel would be home any minute.

“Yeah, nugget?” You grinned, heart swelling every time she called you that. You lost count in the year since the wedding, but Sarah calling you mom would never get old. It was a treasure you never thought you’d experience before you met Joel.

“Do you and Daddy want more kids?” At twelve years old now, Sarah’s voice lost that babyish tone you used to love. She looked and sounded more grown up each day, but she was still her Daddy’s little nugget.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. We’ve talked about the fact that I don’t want to have a baby and he doesn’t want one either. But I wouldn’t be opposed to adopting a child in need, if he wanted to. I’d have to talk to your dad about it though.”

Sarah went quiet while you stirred the pasta and checked the sauce. It was nearly ready, just another minute or two.

“Why do you ask, kiddo?”

Sarah looked up from her work to meet your gaze and shrugged her shoulders in a way that told you she was searching for words to explain herself.

“I dunno. I guess I always thought it would be cool to have a sibling, but then all my friends that have one or more always complain about them.”

Tilting your head to the side, you dug a little more. “So, you’re just curious?”

Dark puppy eyes gazed up at you again. “Yeah… well, no. There’s…” She paused as the timer went off and you drained the pasta and mixed it into the sauce.

“There’s what?” you questioned, placing the large bowl of pasta on the table along with a plate of warm garlic bread, hearing Joel’s truck pull into the driveway. “Come sit and tell me.”

Before Sarah could begin, Joel walked in and kissed you both hello. He washed his hands at the kitchen sink before joining you at the table and you both listened with rapt attention as Sarah explained her friend’s situation.

“You know my friend, Ellie?” she asked, to which you both nodded.

“The snarky one in the grade below yours? Yeah, I like that one,” Joel replied around a mouthful of food. “What about her?”

Sarah grimaced at her father’s poor table manners, earning a smile from you before she continued. “Well, she’s in foster care but her foster parents are awful. They drink a lot and don’t care about her. She ends up hiding out in the detached garage all the time, even staying there overnight just to get away from them.”

“That’s awful, nugget. I’ll look into her file on Monday, see if there’s anything I can do,” you replied. You didn’t realize she was in foster care. As a fifth grader, you haven’t had her in class yet.

Joel looked at you with big cow eyes, brows arched in question. You could practically hear him thinking – he hated the thought of a child suffering in any way. Before either of you could say anything, Sarah spoke up again.

“Well, I was hoping maybe we could adopt her, and she could live with us,” she said hopefully. “You know, since you don’t want a baby and I still want a sibling. It’s like a compromise or whatever.”

Turning to Joel, you could see the same hopefulness in his dark eyes, and your heart thudded in your chest. “Why don’t you invite her over for a sleepover this weekend so we can get to know her a little more. And in the meantime, we’ll look into what we’d need to do.”

Dinner forgotten, Sarah bounced in her seat and asked for your phone to call Ellie. “You guys are gonna love her, I promise!” Bounding away from the table to call her friend, Sarah stopped short at the edge of the room. “Oh, Ellie loves dogs. Do you think we could adopt one of those, too?”

fin

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[hrizantemy]

Hi! Can we talk about how INSANE Nesta’s “choices” were in ACOSF. Either inprisonment or to the HUMAN LANDS??? At that point I truly wondered if Feyre really loves Nesta like she does because what kind of options is that.

It makes me feel as if Feyre couldn’t contextualize what Nesta was going through, despite going through it herself. I was discussing in your latest chapter about the fact that it is truly disturbing just how Feyre’s self centered truly dehumanizes everyone around her.

Your chapter ( beautifully written btw🥰) perfectly highlights the dangers that were potentially awaiting Nesta. Feyre and Rhysand with all the resources that are available to them, chose those options for the ‘High Lady’s’ sister. Please. Just say that you hate her and move on.

-Nadia

Hi! First of all, thank you so much for your kind words about the chapter — I’m really glad it resonated with you! Now, let’s absolutely unpack this, because you’ve touched on something that has bothered me since my first read of ACOSF — and when you view Nesta’s “choices” through a legal and rehabilitation lens, it becomes even more disturbing.

The Illusion of Choice: Legally and Ethically Corrupt

Let’s call this what it is: Feyre and Rhysand didn’t offer Nesta a choice — they issued a coerced ultimatum. From any modern legal standpoint, this is a gross abuse of power, both as family and as political rulers.

Nesta isn’t just Feyre’s sister — she’s a war veteran. She fought in the front lines during the war against Hybern. She’s someone who suffered unimaginable trauma, including sexual assault, war crimes, and the aftermath of being Made against her will. In any society with a functioning legal or ethical system, veterans are entitled to care, not punishment.

If a modern government told a returning soldier, “You can either be exiled to a hostile land where you’re hated and hunted, or be forcibly confined and monitored until you ‘behave,’” there would be international outrage. That’s a violation of human rights — or in this case, fae rights.

You cannot penalize someone for how they cope with PTSD, grief, or trauma simply because it’s “inconvenient” or doesn’t fit your image of recovery.

Exiling a War Veteran: A Legal and Moral Atrocity

Sending Nesta to the human lands wasn’t just cruel — it was negligent endangerment. Feyre and Rhys knew exactly what awaited her:

• Hostility toward Fae, especially a powerful female Fae.

• No social support, no protection, no resources.

• Essentially, a death sentence through abandonment.

If we frame this through legal terms, this would be akin to banishing a vulnerable citizen to a known dangerous environment without due process, trial, or any formal legal proceeding. There’s no council vote, no legal counsel for Nesta, no neutral party advocating for her rights. It’s pure authoritarian rule disguised as familial intervention.

And remember — this is the High Lady and High Lord using state power to punish a private citizen because they didn’t like how she was grieving.

Forced Confinement = Illegal Detention

The “rehabilitation” in the House of Wind wasn’t rehabilitation at all. There were no healers specialized in trauma, no consent-based therapy, no structured mental health program. It was:

• Isolation

• Surveillance by biased parties (Cassian & Azriel)

• Forced labor disguised as training

• Emotional manipulation framed as ‘tough love’

In legal terms? That’s unlawful detention and psychological coercion. Nesta was stripped of her autonomy under the guise of “help,” when in reality, it was about silencing her, controlling her, and making her palatable to the IC’s standards.

If this were real life, Feyre and Rhys would be facing massive lawsuits for abuse of power, unlawful imprisonment, and negligence.

The Hypocrisy of Feyre’s Trauma Response

You nailed it when you said Feyre couldn’t contextualize Nesta’s trauma — but I’d argue Feyre refused to. Feyre was allowed to process her trauma in a way that earned her praise. She became the “strong survivor,” the perfect High Lady who buried her pain to serve others.

Nesta didn’t conform to that narrative. She externalized her pain, didn’t hide it, and didn’t care to perform gratitude for surviving horrors she never asked for. That made her inconvenient.

It’s disturbing how Feyre, someone who knows what it feels like to be locked up (Spring Court), isolated, and stripped of agency, turns around and does the same to her sister. But this time, with state-sanctioned authority.

Just Say You Hate Her… Because You Do

You’re absolutely right. If Feyre and Rhysand had simply admitted:

“Nesta embarrasses us. She’s a liability to our image, and we’d rather control or discard her than actually help her,”

— it would’ve been more honest.

Because this isn’t love. Love doesn’t come with ultimatums. Love doesn’t exile you for grieving wrong. Love doesn’t imprison you until you become more “acceptable.”

Final Thoughts

From a legal, moral, and rehabilitative standpoint, Feyre and Rhysand’s treatment of Nesta is indefensible. It’s a terrifying example of how power — both political and familial — can be weaponized to erase those who don’t conform.

Nesta wasn’t given a chance to heal. She was given two forms of punishment, disguised as mercy.

Thank you so much for this ask! These are the conversations that need to be had when we critically engage with stories like ACOSF. I’m always here to dive deeper into these dynamics — and again, I truly appreciate your support and thoughtful insight!

[jinuaei]

Going off anon here for The First Time but I'm not ashamed to say w my whole chest that your yandere Tarn gives me life, waters my crops, sparks joy. I love him so much he meets reader, be we human or bot, and goes from Big Scary Murder Guy to "I'm just a little guy, only need to eat/sleep/breath That One Person Over There" and I love it for him so much. Like yes Tarn be delulu over us. Absolute legend.

I do wonder how he would handle having to pick between Megatron and Reader when those orders conflict. Is there any guilt when he doesn't do Meg's order (because let's be real, Megs is below us in the mental hierarchy) or does he do mental gymnastics to try and get those orders to align?

Welcome to the Delulu Yan! Tarn gang!

Nope, in this universe he has already canonically chosen to abandon the DJD to be with reader in the Lost Light ship so Megatron already lost the battle. Technically he's a traitor now.

I do think he'd feel guilt for abandoning the Decepticon cause, but it always fades away as soon as he sees you. Additionally, when the guilt does seep in, he seeks you and your presence, to remind him that his abandonment is not for naught. It is you that gave him purpose to survive, to keep your image alive even if it meant aligning himself with the Decepticons. And it is you that will finally give him freedom from the Decepticon cause.

Megatron holds no power over him as soon as you came back into his life, but yes, he does feel guilty. After all, he's been with the Decepticons far longer than he was with you, and that changes a bot, all of what he did, the crimes, the sins — it sobers you up when you're finally face to face with the very person that holds your spark.

Nothing will ever top you, not Megatron, not the DJD, hell, not even Primus can drag him away from you! (You can hear Rung sneeze in the background, can bots even sneeze?)

So even though he was loyal to Megatron, all of that came crashing down when you arrived.

[prettyshinnythings]

The Offering. Chapter 5

Story Idea: What if Sauron had been successful? What if he'd taken all of Middle Earth and obtained everything he ever desired? What if he still desired something more?

Warnings: This chapter is 18 plus. Contains smut, language, and an arranged marriage.

Chapter is unedited!

Pairings: Sauron x Reader

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5:

I awoke in agony.

Covered in sweat and exhaustion.

My eyes opening quickly and without a moment to adjust.

A gasp falls from my lips when my eyes open as I come back to life once more. A flood of memories flickers in my mind as I come to. Images of what happened flash across my mind in quick succession, my body overstimulated with how much information that pulsates through me.

There had been an attack on my husband... The spear destined for him I had taken in his place.

'I should be dead.'

I think to myself as I recall the pain I had felt the moment the pointed end had pierced my body. I feel the phantom pain move through me right where the blade had gone through my chest. The pain worsening when I sit up from the bed I had been laying in. Absent mindedly my left hand reaches out to touch the spot on my chest, feeling the bandage that now covered where I had been struck. It is a good sized bandage, white cotton that binds my chest together. It is so tight that I feel as though the bandages alone are what are keeping me together at this very moment. I breathe in a shallow breath, unable to breathe any deeper because of the pain. I glance down at the bandage again and that is when the silver band on my ring finger catches my eye. It is a beautiful ring, silver with a red oval stone centered on the band. It is elegant and unlike anything I have ever seen before.

"I made that for you little one."

My husband's voice sounds from somewhere within the room. I had been so focused on my pain and the memories that brought me to this moment that I had not properly taken in my surroundings. Slowly, I peer up from the ring and find him standing mere feet away. He stands straight, his eyes studying me closely. I cannot read the expression on his face nor the tone of his previous words. I look at him in caution before pulling my gaze from his to the room we are currently in. Wherever we were, it was a room that I had not yet seen before this moment. I recognized the stone work of Sauron's castle and the gothic architecture of his home, but this must have been a room I had to explore in my few days as his wife. My eyes meet the firelight across the room, the fire of a forge. My husband's forge was beautiful, so beautiful that I knew it could rival that of Lord Celebrimbor's forge from the second age. I knew nothing of my husband's craft, but I could appreciate the beauty of the room. Momentarily I wondered if he had placed the bed in here to watch over me as he worked.

There is a silence that hangs between my husband and I as I dare to look upon his handsome face once more. His expression still unreadable. I open my mouth to speak, but he puts his hand up to stop me.

"If you ever think about putting yourself in my path to stop another assassination attempt on my life again I shall punish you thoroughly."

He scolds me and I cannot help the confusion that flickers across my face and the instant frustration the builds within me. Was he seriously angry with me for defending him? For risking myself to save my own husband? I see red as I look at him.

"Are you truly angry with me for saving you? I did it out of love Mairon."

The tone I use with him is foreign and I can tell by the glint in his eyes that he does not know what to make of my outburst. I was a compliant wife. A quiet wife. But at this moment I cannot understand how he could be mad wih me. For a moment he mentally debates on how he will respond to me, eyes looking me up and down. After a moment more of consideration he strides across the room, bridging the gap between the both of us. Only stopping when he has reached the side of the bed.

"I understand why you did it little dove. But do you have any idea what I would do if I ever lost you. I am a Maia, we are much harder to kill, but elves..."

He pauses looking away from me, his jaw tight and his eyes filled with devastation.

"... Elves are easier to kill and I do not want a world that does not have you in it."

My breathing hitches at his words. The frustration that had built up within me is extinguished with a few words. Instantly, I feel bad for immediately reacting with anger. I had not considered how he would feel if I died. I guess a part of me thought he would replace me with another wife. There was nothing about me that was extraordinary, but it appeared the he truly did care for me. Reading my mind, he shakes his head and sits beside me on the bed, his hands in mine.

"I more than care for you (y/n). I would do anything for you. I would set this world aflame if you asked. I would give up everything I had worked so hard to build if you asked. What we have is more than love, there is not a word the fully captures the complexities of what we have."

He finishes speaking with desperation in his eyes. A desperation for me to understand him and the way he felt. The way I knew I would feel if I ever lost him. It was the very reason I had pushed him away from the spear and took it in his place.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to worry you. I love you Mairon, I just wanted to protect you."

He gives me a smile, the lines by his eyes crinkling. He gently rubs his fingers along mine as we hold each other's hands. He leans in to kiss my forehead as his fingers toy with the ring on my finger.

"There is mithril in this ring, it is was once healed the great tree of Valinor. I made sure to infuse it with the metal I used for your band. It is what healed the last of the infection that you have been fighting. The poison on the spear blade got into your blood and clung on for dear life as you fought against it. The nurse maids used all sorts of elvish medicine to get the infection out. They got most of the infection out, but after a fortnight I knew there was only one other option I had to get the rest of it out. So I made this ring and I'll ask you not to take it off in case anything like that ever happens again. Promise me?"

I mull over his words, my brain moving a million miles a second as I realize he had said I had the infection for a fortnight. Which meant I had been out of commission for over two weeks at this point. I could not believe the time I had lost nor the bitterness that I felt deep within me. I had two weeks of my life taken from me.

"I promise."

Is all I can say as I dare to look back at him, our eyes locking together. He sees the devastation on my face and I know that he feels for me. I see his chest heave up and down as be breathes a deep sigh, pulling me in against him. Wrapping me in an embrace whilst he rests his head atop mine. He is warm and comforting and I am beyond thankful that he saved me.

"Do not fret my darling wife. The elf responsible has paid or maiming you..."

His voice is darker when he says this. It is a sharp contrast to the softness of his touch.

"... He was publically excuted for all to see. Burned like a witch at the stake. A warning to anyone who might think of harming you and I. He shall never harm you again little dove."

There's an underlying tone of madness in his voice. Something that should have concerned me, but it did not. All I could think about was how much I believed that the elf had gotten what was coming to him in the end. He attacked his king and queen so he suffered he consequences. And though a part of me mormally would have felt bad that a death of any kind had occurred, I could not bring myself to care.

If someone wanted to harm my king then they deserved to burn for it. And next time I wanted to be the one lighting the match. The thought causes my husband to chuckle darkly as he holds me tight.

"Careful darling..."

 He rasps before pulling back to look at me, his lips mere inches from mine. Something about the way my dark thought excites him and I can see it in his eyes. There is a touch of darkness within me that he is fascinated by, a thread he wants to pull on so he can see me unravel.

"...Thoughs of revenge can lead to corruption."

My breathing hitches when he whispers the words. His eyes a few shades darker than they had been before. How was it that he could arouse me so thoroughly without making a move? I felt as though we were connected within our minds in a way that was stronger than it had been before I had been injured. As if my action had proven my loyalty and now he was willing to fully let me in. I cannot help but smile at the thought, my hands reaching out to touch either side of his face. Normally I let him initiate the touches we shared as if he would deny me if I did not wait for his initiation. But this time I felt braver, more comforable with the man before me. He does not pull away when I touch him, instead he leans into the touch, his eyes fluttering closed as my fingers trace along his jawline.

"My love, you corrupted me the second you fucked me with your cock."

I whisper the vulgarities in a sweet breath, my eyes fixated upon his face. I note the smirk that tugs at the corner of his lips when I say this. His sweet compliant little wife daring to utter such naughty words. I feel as hough I am seeing him for the first time, his clean shaven face is soft underneath my fingertips. I find myself inching closer until my lips are against his, slowly we kiss as if we are afraid that I might break into a thousand pieces. A gasp falls from my lips as his hands find my hips. He is gentle as he manuevers me where he wants me, my legs on either side of his hips, his covered cock directly below my covered sex. Intentionally cautious, he breaks the kiss and leans his head against mine. His breathing is uneven and hungry for more.

"We should not keep going. You are still weak from the attack. I cannot take advantage of you when you are still healing."

He sounds so sweet when he says this, his words are a clear contrast to his body. He holds me to him, his bulge straining against my sex. We both know what we want, injuries be damned. 

"I want you Mairon. You are not taking advantage of me if this is what I want."

My voice maintains its whisper as we stare at each other in quiet hunger. Our breathing still uneven. I can see that he wants to protest, but I can also see how badly he wants this as much as I do.

"Please."

I ask as sweetly as I can muster, my hands moving from his face down to his chest and then lower. His eyes more intense with every movement that my hands make lower along his body. My hands stop at the top of his trousers, my fingertips tracing over the button of his pants.

"You little minx. How am I supposed to do what is right when you ask so sweetly?"

I keep my wide-eyed gaze as I undo the button. He lifts his hips when I pull the fabric of his trousers down, his cock freed from their confines. I cannot help the smile that plays on my lips when I see how hard he is. In hesitance I look up at him to make sure that it is okay for me to do what I suddenly feel compelled to do... Put his throbbing cock in my mouth. He looks at me and really thinks it over, contemplating whether he wants us to continue or if he means to shut this down before it goes any further. I can feel him in my mind as he probes around before making his decision.

He does not say a word aloud before nodding for me to continue. Maintaining eye contact I shimmy down his legs so I have better access to his cock. It is only once I am comfortable that I lean forward, tongue lightly licking up the length of his member. I am slow as my tongue toys with him, licking up and down before guiding him into my mouth. His hands move to my hair and a low groan brushes past his lips as I take him as deeply as I can. My tongue darting over his swollen tip, tasting his pre-cum as I work my mouth.

"(y/n)."

My name comes out of his mouth in a heated moan, I watch him closely as he leans his head back against the headboard of the bed. His eyes close and a look of bliss overtakes his handsome face. This was the first time I had ever been brave enough to do something like this with my husband and now that I have seen his reaction, I knew I already could not wait to do it again. He seemed competely at my mercy in this moment. Vulnerable and powerful at once. When I lick over the tip of his cock once more, his jaw clenches and his hips buck up. He thrusts himself deep into the back of my throat as I continue sucking him. A few times he thrusts himself so deeply into my mouth that I gag, but it only turns me on more. His hands move to lace themselves in my hair, gently tugging at the strands as the two of us fall into a rhythm. My mouth is all to happy to match his movements and I can feel that he's nearly ready to fall over the edge.

"I am going to cum (y/n) and I want you to swallow every last drop."

A chill moves up my spine when he speaks, his tone cold calculating. A deviation from the softness in his eyes as we stare each other down, neither of us stopping what we are doing whilst we do this. I cannot verbally response, but he can see my response in the way that I look at him. That I am hungry for whatever he wants to give me. His thrusts are deep, in my mouth. As far as I can handle, but he is cautious with me as if I will break if he moves any quicker. But I just focus on the ways my tongue can tease him, my tongue tracing over the veins in his cock as he finally spills over. His cock twitches as he coats the inside of my mouth with his spent seed. I swallow and lap every drop that twitches into my mouth until there's nothing left, only then do I release him from my mouth.

He pulls me in against him, his hands on either side of my face as he studies me. I am suddenly very tired and the energy I had seems to have been depleated. My eyes feel heavy and my mind suddenly feels as if it is world's away. He studies me closely and I know that he can see the new wave of exhuastion that has fallen over me.

"I will make sure to give you as generous of reward once you have more energy. I am not to be outdone by my sweet little dove."

I smile at his nickname for me and lean forward to lay my head on his chest. He allows me to get comforable before running his hands through my long (y/h/c) loose locks. I feel the pain in my chest that I had forgotten all about when I had been distracted moments ago. He breathes with me when he can tell that I'm feeling the pain once more, his hands continuing to stroke my hair.

"Why do you call me little dove?"

I whisper, my eyes heavy. Unable to keep them open my eyes flutter closed and I breathe him in.

"In some cultures doves mean beauty, fertility, and love. But when I was a young Maia doves were a symbol of peace. When I first saw you I felt a peace that I had never known before. You have been my peace from the moment you entered my throne room."

I cannot fight the smile that forms on my lips when he says this. And though eyes are still closed, I can imagine the look upon his face. He gives the top of my head a tender kiss before whispering;

"Now rest my love. You may ask me anything your heart desires when you awaken."

My body is too weak to fight against the sleep that overtakes me. I did not want to sleep when I have only just awoken, but I could not fight the dream like state I entered into moments after he starts to hum me a melody.

-

It is almost another fortnight before my husband allows me to do anything for myself. Too caught up in making sure I had regained enough strength to do simple tasks like walking from one end of the room to the other. But his tenderness did not bother me, instead it made me thankful. For my entire life I had never had anyone who took care of me like this. He made sure I ate, had enough blankets, helped me wash, and would lay in bed with me whilst he read a book aloud. He was tender and kind something I had never known before.

But tonight he finally decided that I was ready enough to take a walk around his castle with him. With one arm locked with his we walk along the outside of the castle breathing in the night air. The wind carried a smell of rain with it as it lightly breezed, blowing some of my hair out of my face. We walked amongst the stars, the moonlight bright and beautiful. He walked alongside me, his arm linked with mine whilst watching me. Fireflies dance along the trees of the forest. They dance in time with the sound of crickets chirping as if their melodies were the sweetest song. I could confess to myself that this part of Mordor was a sharp contrast to the desert along the Southern end of my husband's lands. Here, at home in the castle and within the grounds, one could forget the harsh realities of the enslaved beings my husband ruled over. But I tried not to dwell on those individuals. Instead, I focused on my husband and the way it feels to have him hold me as he guides me through the garden that nears the forest edge. Tonight I wear an emerald green dress that flows along my body, with beautiful golden leaves embrodiered along the bodice before cascading down the skirt of my dress. He eyes the way the dress is tailored to me with a satisfied smirk.

"It is good to see you outside of our make shift bed in the forge. I am sorry it took me so long to let you go out of bed. I just wanted you to be more healed before I let you out for all to see."

When he says this I catch the small group of his courtiers sitting at table in the garden indulging in some sort of sweet pastry. When we walk past them they stand and bow to their king before doing the same to me. They look scared of my husband and I cannot help but wonder why. Before his courtiers all seemed happy to be chosen as close members of his court. Now they seemed weary. I look to my husband and see the look in his eyes as he watches them bow. Seemingly assessing their form and deciding if he found it acceptable or not. He does not speak when he looks away, head held high as he guides us away from them.

"What was that about?"

I ask only when we are out of earshot of his courtiers. He peers down at me through a sideways glance, his body still tense.

"Members of my court and my guards were slain due to their regrettable oversight in keeping my kingdom safe."

My brow furrows at his words, my eyes lookin from his to our linked arms. Members of the court and guards were killed because they had, either willingly or unwillingly, allowed that elvan assalant into our home and it almost resulted in the death of their king. I could see how Sauron would want to punish anyone willing to allow such an uprising. He had to snuff out any and all fires as they appeared if he wanted to maintain his power. It is no secret that my husband did not care if he had to scorch the Earth to keep what he wanted safe. He had worked too hard to lose what he had built.

"I see. And now they are afraid of you?"

I whisper more to myself than him. The complexities of ruling a kingdom and the complicated relationships he had to maintain were not enirely lost on me. My parents had been the leaders of our small village and I knew what they had endured to maintain their own little bit of peace. I loose myself in thought for a moment. So much so that I do not pay attention to where my husband has been guiding us down the outdoor corridor, each step carrying us further and further away. It is only when I see the exterior second door to the throne room that I realize where he has taken us. Neither of us speaks when he opens the door and we tuck ourselves safely inside. The throne room is empty, illuminated only by the candle lit chandeliers.  It was a massive room any time that I had been inside of it, but it seemed even more vast with only the two of us inside it.

"Why did you bring me here?"

I ask, my eyes taking in my surroundings. Nothing had changed from the masquarade that had occurred well over three weeks ago. Everything as it was, only more chaotic from the attack. Chairs were knocked over, tables, glasses, and cups strewn about like the castle had been abandoned. My eyes pause upon the floor where black soot mars the floor. The longer I look at it the more it seems to grow, whatever had happened here was horrific. Whoever had been standing here had been scorched into oblivion. I cannot help but think back to what he had said moments ago about his court and guards being slain. My mouth parts at the realization, my eyes moving from the floor to where he stands. There is no apology in his eyes and I do not desire one. He was reacting to being attacked and he had the right to respond, but I am in awe of the destruction. Weeks ago I would have mourned the loss of life that had occurred here. Elves did not enjoy loss of life, but something within me has changed. I could feel it the moment I had awoken. It was as if the poison that had tried to kill me had been successful to a point. I am not the elf I was before the attack. Now all that was left was a void. A void that only my husband seemed to fill.

"Is this where it happened?"

Breathless, I murmur the words into existence. A smirk tugs at the corner of his lips whilst we study each other. The same dark fascination with my own darkness intices his him. His strides to my side are big enough that it only takes a few steps to reach me. His taller frame stands behind me, his hands on either side of my shoulders as he admires his craftsmanship.

"Yes. After the intruder who harmed you had been safely detained I felt it necessary to teach the others a thorough lesson of what would happen to them should they be neglent again. It is safe to say that any doubters of my rule were taken care of. Or as you so wonderfully put it 'scorched'."

A chill moves up my spine when he whispers my internal observation aloud. My breathing hitches as his lips trace my ear lobe, my body instantly on edge. Why did the thought of him being angry enough to harm another on my behalf turn me on? It should not. This went against everything I had been taught to value.

"What is happening to me?"

I ask breathlessly as he chuckles darkly in my ear. His lips kiss beneath my ear, ghosting along my neck as I lean into his touch. My eyes flutter closed when I feel his teeth graze my neck. I did not know if he intended to bite me as he had the night of my attack, but if he did I would not complain. The thought amuses him as he breathes me in.

"Do you know how hard it is to survive being struck with a dark blade little one? A blade infused with a Mogul-blade. The blade had been fashioned into an arrow at some point, but the magic inside remained just as strong. When you were stabbed darkness took root within you, a poison that took weeks to cure, but even with the ring I made you on your finger the poison still managed to find a way in. Small as it may be, it is there and I can feel it within you. Calling for my own darkness as well..."

His voice drifts for a moment whilst he kisses my neck once more, tongue lightly brushing over my skin.

"... I really did try to fix it, but a wound like that never fully heals."

My body feels as though it is on fire within his arms. The hunger of my own darkness calling for his. I feel at war with myself and the notions of what has been versus what now is. I still feel twinges of myself mixed into the foreign entity residing inside of me. A part of me that had become twisted and tortured into this new version of myself.

"Do you like me better like this?"

I ask while a wave of dread overtook me momentarily. The thought my husband might only be all too happy to see this shift within me. I could feel a change in his touch as if he was no longer afraid of breaking me. I'd already proven I was stronger than he thought, what would he make of me now? My own insecurities plague my mind, but only for a moment before he pulls back. His lips leave my skin and he pulls his hands from my shoulders. In less than a second he is before me, his hands now finding my waist as he pulls me in against him.

"I love you in every way that you have been and I will love you in every way you will be."

He is sincere when he speaks the words and I know instantly that there's no falsity to be found within him. His smile is sweet even with the mischeif that is in his eyes. I look upon his face and wonder why that it was that he chose now to show me this. Why he chose now to tell me this. Why had he waited weks to inform me that the elf I had been before was different from the elf before him now. These questions bounce around in my head in rapid succession, his eyes trained on me as he listens to my thoughts.

"I told you now because you've gained more of your strength. I did not want to frighten you little one. But when I saw my courtiers in the garden I knew that I could no longer wait for an answer."

His explanation makes sense, but I wonder what all of this means moving forward.

"And my response to your parlor tricks was all you needed to know that something about me was different?"

I ask, my tone darker as I peer up at him through my lashes. He raises his brows at this statement, more the shock that his sweet little wife could ever compare his abilities to parolr tricks. No, he knew he was the most powerful being in this world and he wouldn't let me get away with saying such a thing. He would punish me for it, just like I wanted him to.

He does not speak when he pulls his lips to meet mine. I hear a faint growl in the back of his throat, gutteral and cruel. He has me up against the pillar mere feet behind where we are standing all without moving his lips from mine. He touches me like a man possessed, his fingers tugging at the fabric of my gown. I think of how he is pulling it apart and which he would stop because I liked this dress.

"Oh don't worry darling, I shall get you another one."

He rasps against my lips followed by the sharp sound of fabric being ripped from my body. I gasp at the sensation of the cold air of the throne room touching my skin. Every rip of the fabric exposing me more and more to him. My eyes flutter closed when his lips move from mine down to my throat and along the valley of my breasts. My fingers are entangled in his hair as he wages war on my flesh, marking me up with every swirl of his tongue. I am so blissfully entagled in his touches that I do not realize when I feel light stubble along my skin. My brows furrow at the sensation, my husband was normally clean shaven...

I peer down at him and gasp. His normally long blonde locks are replaced by beautiful dark brown hair that comes down past his chin. Not as long, but long enough. He senses that I have had my attention is no longer wrapped up in sinful lust. He knows that I am enraptured by his new appearence. He looks up at me, his eyes now green and the stubble on his face gives him more of a rugged look. He no longer looks like the elf form he paraded around in to mock the elves he has enslaved. No, this form is that of a man and he is hauntingly beautiful. In hesitance I reach out to touch his face, traces of his other form are hidden beneath the surface, but he looks like an entirely new person.

"Still find my skills to be parlor tricks love?"

He asks, his voice mimicking that of a Southlander. I swallow hard and stare back at him in awe.

"You're magnificent."

I whisper unable to hide the amazement I feel burning deep within me. My words cause him to chuckle, his hands reaching out to cradle my face as I cradle his. He looks smug as my eyes take in every new part of his face. The long robe he had been wearing on our walk has been replaced by clothes often associated with low men. Not that it bothered me in the slightest, this form aroused me as much as his other form.

"I can feel you (y/n). I can see your mind and I know how much seeing me like this arouses you..."

He pauses, his hands moving to rip the remaining fabric from my body. He leaves me naked before him, the fabric of my gown falling around me. I never bothered with undergarments any more. Not when I hoped he would take me whenever he saw fit. For a moment his eyes flick down to my sex, the smirk on his face growing as he lifts his hand up. His fingers lightly toy with my clit, his gaze never moving from me as he lightly strokes me. I breathe in a sharp breath when he uses his index finger to collect some of my arousal before inserting his fingers between my soaked folds. Through the new guise of his form he watches me closely and watches my every move without hesitance. Instead, he seems to look at me as though I too have taken on a new form. He pumps his finger in and out of me at such a slow pace that it is almost cruel. Fast enough to tease me but not fast enough to fully get me off.

"... Would you like me to stay in this form while I fuck you? Hmm, love?"

He whispers, his accent somehow stronger while he looms closer. Again his lips are nearly against mine and I am nearly seeing stars. The only response I can muster is a faint 'hmm' while moaning shamelessly. His finger moves a little faster while he studies me closely in quiet fascination.

"The last time I took this form I was called Halbrand. That is what I want you to call me tonight."

I nod feverishly, quick to give him anything that he requested. Whatever I needed to do to get him to do more than simply pump his finger in and out of me. He can sesne I am desperate to give him whatever answer he desires and I know that amuses him. Without warning, his lips meet mine and his scruff is rough against my skin. Rough but terribly delicious. I felt like I could cum from his kiss alone, my body doing eveything it can to fuck his finger. He does not let me get too much friction going before he pulls me from the pillar onto the ground beneath us. The cold tile firm against my back, my husband straddling me with a rougish glint in hs eyes. Somewhere in the shifting of positions he had magicked away his clothing, his naked body formed against mine like we were two piece of a puzzle. In this form he has hair on his chest, which I run my fingers through as he peers down at me.

"Halbrand please."

I whimper, his gaze darkening when I say the name. He liked the way that it sounded on my lips. He rolls his hips against me, his cock brushing along my soaked sex. The sensation is unlike anything else. In his other form his cock was impressive, but in this form his cock was thicker. He felt different against me and I wanted him inside of me.

"You like my cock in this form, wife? Hmm, I shall keep that in mind the next time I take you to bed."

There is an amusement in his voice when he says this. An amusement that does not quite match the darkness in his eyes. Without another word he uses one hand to pin both of my hands above my head and the other to hold himself up when he leans his chest to mine. He does not give me a warning when he pushes the head of his swollen tip into the enterance of my sex, but when he starts to push in I feel myself hold my breath.

How was he going to fit?

The thought flashes through my mind and earns another amused chuckle from my husband.

"Do not worry love. I will fit and then I will ruin you."

If it was a threat I could not bring myself to care. I wanted him to ruin me. To rip me apart even if he had just spent weeks putting me back together. Anything to chase this high that I was on. He slides further in, my walls accomodating to his thicker size. He is slow and cautious when he does this as if I will truly break apart. He does not stop his slow descent inside of me until he is as deep  inside of me as he can go. Only then does he still his actions and wait for my body to fully adjust to his size.

"Please Halbrand. Please ruin me."

I beg when my husband looks down at me expectantly, knowing full well that all I want to do is for him to take me then and there. A genuine smile moves to his lips before he rolls his hips into mine and a new sensation flickers through me. He hits new nerves all at once with his thicker length. Nerves that he had hit before, but never like this and never at the same time. My hands instantly strain against his one hand holding me in place. I want to touch him, but realize that isn't going to be an option tonight. So instead I lay there and focus on how good he is making me feel. His slow thrusts only last as long as he feels that I need to fully warm up to his newer length. After a few moments, he starts thrusting harder. Erratic and animalistic as he lays waste to my body below him. My boobs bounce against his chest when he starts thrusting faster and his lips find mine in the candle lit throne room. I find myself kissing him back with everything I have inside of me. I feel the need to keep up with him and his hunger. I wanted him as badly as he wanted me.

"Tight little cunt. All mine, in this form and any other I shall take. You are mine and mine alone."

His words comb through my mind when he says them. The sounds of our bodies fucking filling the room around us. Skin on skin and raw desire echoing off of the walls. I moan and he groans, our bodies slowly matching eachother's paces. Halbrand might be more of a dirty fuck, but that did not mean that I would not keep up with him. And I do keep up with him, my body mirroring his. The both of us riding a high unlike any other. 

We remain in this cruel race until both of us start to reach our own individual releases. He can feel it in the way that my walls clench around him. Halbrand's mouth moves from mine, his green eyes locking with mine when he starts to thrust more aggressively.

"I am going to fuck an heir into you (y/n)."

I moan at his words, a part of me hoping that he does. That this is a promise that he follows through with. I strain against his hands once again as he pushes me to new heights.

"Cum my love. Cum and I will fill you with my seed."

The aggressive thrusts deepen and I am powerless to not give him what he desires most. What I desire most... A release.

"Fuck, Halbrand."

It is the only thing I can say as my walls clench around his cock, my peek reaching at the same time he reaches his. We cum together and I feel his seed shoot deep inside of me. He keeps himself lodged deep within me and with every twitch of his cock a apart of me hopes it will take. I wanted to give my husband everything he wanted. I wanted to be the best wife and mother. I wanted to do whatever I needed to do to keep him happy.

When he pulls out of me he kisses the top of my head. Still in Halbrand's form he lays down next to me on the cool marble floor. I catch his smile before he draws me in against him. I place my hand on top of his chest, my fingers toying with the hair on his chest.

"I love you."

I whisper. The smile on his face grows, the warmth in his face infectious when he reaches out to tuck some of my hair behind my ear.

"I love you as well little dove."

We breathe together in our quiet bubble of bliss, but after a few minutes I feel my husband stiffen beside me. I look to him and wonder what could be bothering him. Reading my mind he lets me know what is the matter without me even having to utter a single word.

"There is an army of traitors gathering in the East. Elves, men, and Dwarves in the hundreds are all conspiring to destroy all that I have built. I am anticipating that it will be meaningless bloodshed. They wish to harm all that I have done to protect them."

Guilt swells deep inside of me at the thought that my husband has had to deal with all of this whilst I was injured. I think of how much he had taken care of me and wonder how much of a burden I had been when he had real pressing matters to deal with.

"Whatever they are planning we shall meet tenfold..."

I say this while thinking of the thousands in my husband's army. I knew we far outnumbered any who opposed him. And he knew it too.

"... We will destroy them all and the ones who manage to survive we need to punish. Only then will they learn to never oppose their king again."

An undetectable look flashes over his face when I say this. A look of pride overtaking his face as if he is proud of what I've said and what it means to him. He nods, lips returning to my forehead.

"Yes, we will, my queen. Yes, we will."

[chosos-mascara]

all my love, suguru

chapter 4

summary: after an unexpected night spent with your close friend, you find yourself pregnant, and unable to tell him so. will you be able to come to terms with this news, or will it destroy the delicate relationship you’d had left?

chapter warnings: mentions of declining mental health (suguru), general angst, secret pregnancy/child

masterlist

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A brown head of hair follows you from your car to the apartment. It's an uncomfortable journey knowing you're back in Tokyo again, so close to a life that feels so distant from you now.

There are many boxes to unpack, and when accompanied by a young child, the task feels insurmountable. To credit her, she does make an attempt to help, picking out a few toys from one of the containers with a smile, though just as quickly becomes distracted by the prospect of actually playing with them. This does make things easier for a short while; you're able to unpack some dinnerware into empty shelves, folding down just one cardboard box before she's back at your side. "Mama!" She toddles to you with tears brimmed at her lash line, a doll in one hand, it's arm in the other. "Help, please."

You offer a soft smile, crouching and accepting the broken toy. It's easy to slot the arm back into place with some jostling (a manuvre you've learned from experience with this particular toy), and she's smiling once more, a shriek of excitement when the doll is returned to her in one piece.

Her expression lightens your mood, how beautifully she wears her emotions. There's so much innocence to children you hadn't expected before meeting her, so much joy. Her brown eyes are locked onto her barbie as she babbles, some nonsense, though some actual words do crop up - mummy, love, play.

You'd spent your entire pregnancy wondering what she would look like, whether she would take after you or her father, and to little surprise when she was handed to you, she was the image of Suguru. Even more so with age. Brown hair and eyes, and she has his nose too, with a calm temperament and warmth that you also accredit to him.

Being a single mother is hard, and seeing so much of him within her is bittersweet. He's the man you fell in love with, but he's also the man you had to leave. There's so much you've wanted to share with him too; her first steps, words, her first birthday. Despite this, you know even if alone you've raised her well, and she is so loved. You've brought her this far without sorcery, but now a blue flame surrounds her. She's an early bloomer in the cursed sense, and just as you'd feared, inherits her father's technique meaning she'll likely be a special grade... something you'd wished so deeply to avoid. 

There was change on the horizon, beginning only a few days ago when you'd been told to pack these very boxes, and push your daughter into a future you hadn't willed. You feel sick when recounting the memory.

"No." The sight of his face brings a burning to your throat, a sinking feeling as if a bowling ball had been forced into your chest, dropping to weigh within your stomach. Two years in hiding, to end involuntarily by no one other than Gojo Satoru. White hair draped over his forehead, blue eyes meeting your own. They look tired, aged somehow, though you can't seem to care when that weathering is accompanied by remorse, lips downturned.

"Invite me inside." His voice is quiet, low. It's late, and you're sure he's exhausted, yet he's at your door instead of his own. There's a small spark of hope that perhaps he simply needs a place to stay, though this is snuffed out when you look back to his face. He knows. "Satoru, why are you here?" Your voice trembles on the verge of tears, but he doesn't comfort you, instead remaining silent as you try to steady your breaths, eventually regulating them enough to step to one side. There's some hesitance as he walks past you.

You lead him to the livingroom, and as he trails behind his gaze wonders the painted walls of your entryway, pictures decorating an otherwise bland white. Most of which appear to star a small child from the ages of infancy to two; the same dark hair and brown eyes that he recognised within his close friend. There's dimples in each cheek when she smiles with her mother's lips.

"You had a girl." He means it to echo a question despite already knowing, though it sounds to be a statement. Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his, and you nod.

"Keiko." Usually her name on your lips brings you joy, but telling Satoru only makes your heart ache.

"Satoru, please tell me why you're here."  You swallow thickly, afraid of the news you're about to be privvy to. He offers little reprieve with his reluctance, and you expect the worse. "You have to come back, to Tokyo."

There's a numbness that begins at your throat, and slowly, like mould spore growing through a piece of fruit, you find yourself rotting before him. You're plagued with dread as you picture your daughter, only two years of age, opened up to a world you wished to shield her from. "Why would I need to do that?" You act as if you're unaware, yet you understand clearly. She's gifted, even if you hadn't wanted to give her this strength.

"She has Cursed Spirit Manipulation." When those words leave his lips, you realise you truly have lost this case. This is it, this is what she will be forced to use. Your jaw tightens as you form a response, though you're unable to begin when Satoru elaborates. "Two weeks ago, a small girl was seen chasing a grade four, and upon capturing it, the curse was ingested."

You frown. "Who reported this?" Satoru hears the panic in your voice, no matter how strong you try to be. Just like when you were teenagers, you feign confidence against him, yet in equal power, Satoru can see right through you. 

"A grade three sorcerer working within this district reported it to the higher ups. They've decided her potential is too strong to ignore."  You're staring at him wide eyed, and he feels guilt as he watches you grieve this life. Satoru wouldn't tell you how he'd practically pleaded with them to let her be a child before introducing her to the horrors of this world, because he didn't want you to know he'd failed you. 

"What if I refuse?"  "You know the answer, do I really have to spell it out to you? There is no other choice." His words imbue a hopelessness into you, and you finally give up, walking past him to take a seat on the couch. The cushions sink under you, and your hands rest upon each leg. There's one question you have left.

"Does he know?" Monotone, dead. Your tone sends a chill over Satoru's spine; he's never seen you so genuinely defeated. Even when he'd found out about your pregnancy, you held yourself together better than this. But even with all of Satoru's experience, his strength, he still couldn't empathise with that of parenthood. Megumi was the closest thing he had to that, though he understands that the relationship the pair share is nothing close to the love you would have for your own blood. 

"You left with no word as to where you'd gone. If I told him it was to have his child, what would he have done?" There's some bitterness to his words, and you cringe.   "Didn't he question the fact there's a child with his technique?" 

Satoru moves from one foot to the other, crossing his arms as he watches your meek state. You're slouched and sweating, and your eyes haven't lifted from the same patch of carpet for the past two minutes. Though with his quietness, your gaze lifts, stopping at his lips. 

"He doesn't know." 

You nod once, taking your teeth between your lips. This is worse than being lectured, you think, enduring the judgement of a person you value highly, feeling their revulsion of a decision you made long ago. "Don't you think he had a right to know before all of this?" You stay silent, your arms closing in closer to your body as if to hug yourself. "It's only right he hears it from you, before this goes any further." 

Only, you still haven't made that call, and told him the truth. You watch your daughter walk toward the school, her hand in yours, while Suguru is none the wiser. It's a secret you knew would be revealed within the next few hours, unrevealed as long as you'd been able.

Shoko's leaving the lab when you enter the halls. You don't notice her at first, instead preoccupied by the small girl beside you, though when your eyes lift from the little fingers wrapped around yours, you stop dead in your tracks. 

Not many things shock Shoko. She likes to think she's seen all, and likely knows most of what goes on even if only surface level, but when she sees you in Jujutsu High with a child clutching at your hand, she comes to a standstill, eyes wide like a deer in headlights.

 Keiko takes a few steps, her little feet tapping on the hard floors, though soon notices her mother's halted action.  "Mama, come on."

Shoko's brow raises, a sharp gasp on her lips as she pieces things together. The child looks to be around two, and not long before that you'd left - this must've been the result of that pregnancy test you'd requested long ago. And as she stares at her a little longer, taking in at the warm toned brown eyes, she realises why you'd left. This child had to be Suguru's, her features were far too akin to his to be coincidental.

She says your name, though it sounds foreign to her now. She wonders when the last time she'd called out to you was, and when you peer anxiously to her expression, she realises how you've matured, mellowed almost. There's a protectiveness she can sense, you're definitely more closed off, but that's understandable considering the fact you've been gone and likely without much social contact.

"Hi." Part of you had hoped for a better reunion, but with how things went it was only understandable that Shoko wouldn't be running to hug you anytime soon. "You’re a mother, huh?" There's little goosebumps over your skin as you swallow, nodding slowly. Of course, she'd remember your offish self asking her for tests, and she'd be able to piece things together. "What's her name?"

You knew Shoko wouldn't bring harm to you both, and if she's worked out your daughter's father, she wouldn't press you on it. "It's Keiko." You look down to your daughter, who's holding your hand a little tighter in the presence of a stranger. Funny, growing up you'd thought these people would be your children's family, yet here your baby is, backing up at the sight of a woman she'd never met.

"Keiko," Shoko crouches to her eye level. "That's a beautiful name." Shoko offers her a smile, and Keiko's hand loosens up a little, though it's still clammy on your palm. "Thanks." It's spoken quietly, and the 'th' sounds more like an 'f', but it's coherent enough.

"What are you both doing here?" Shoko's looking back to you now, standing up to meet your level once again. Mouth opening, your free hand comes to your arm to fiddle with your jacket. "The higher-ups found out about her technique." "Manipulation?" You pause. So, she's figured it out. "Yeah. They want him to show her the way, I guess." "But he doesn't know." "No, he doesn't." You offer her a half smile in hopes she would forgive you. "I was kind of hoping he'd find out before i got here, but he hasn't."

Shoko wants to tell you it's your job to tell him and that you need to face your fears, but she keeps her mouth closed in order to save your feelings. Instead, she nods quietly, arms crossed. When the air is too stale to bare any longer, you breathe it in, deciding to take you leave before you would combust on the spot. "I've got to find Yaga, we have a meeting." Your words are rushed and you almost stumble as you walk past her. 

"Who was that?" Keiko questions in her own muddled words, and you force a happy expression when meeting her gaze. "Mama's old friend, from school."

Suguru sits back in the beat up couch, bitter instant coffee still swirling as he places it on the low table. The staffroom has definitely seen better days, he was sure this furniture would've been used back when he'd attended Jujutsu High, with stains and scratches over old wood, rings from mugs of coffee much like his own. Budget cuts had meant money was syphoned into other things, much less into staff.

"A meeting, with Yaga?" He repeats Satoru's words carefully, brow creased. He watches as the brown liquid begins to settle, a few bubbles at the surface meeting in the middle. "Yeah, something about a new student." The explanation makes much less sense to Suguru, because this year he's supposed to be taking on more missions, and offering a supporting role rather than holding his own classes. "And why would that concern me?" His voice is tired, he's tired. The school is working them all into an early grave, he thinks. What was supposed to be more of a career break had somehow turned into more work than he's ever had, and he realises the only way out of this is to leave Jujutsu society for good - much like you did.

Suguru can't deny he feels responsible for your sudden leaving. As if a phone call would've fixed anything between you after he'd not only slept with you, but left you to fend for yourself afterward too. He thinks about you a lot, much to his own distaste. It's his fault you're not here, after all.

"You'll be teaching them part time." Suguru outwardly sighs, a hand flying up to massage his temples. "Of course." It was drenched in acidity, and Satoru shifts. He's still standing, muscles tense as he watches his friend stress himself further. It's been a difficult few years, and he is sure Suguru is at the end of his tether. Satoru worries that your return might just be the thing that breaks him entirely.

"What do you know, Satoru?" When he zones back into the room, glancing away from the disgustingly beige walls to peer into his friend's brown eyes, he realises he'd worn his concerns too evidently. "Not much," He lies, something he's found himself doing consistently as of recent. "She's young, though. A child." He tries to soften the blow by letting on that piece of information now, because he knows Suguru will be disgusted to find out they're having him begin training with a child who cannot yet read, let alone understand what a curse is.

"How young?" Suguru's intuition tells him that something is awry here, but he can't place his finger on what exactly it is. Satoru is definitely withholding something important, and he understands that he's not going to find out what until he's in Yaga's office. "Fine, don't tell me."

With a sigh, he pushes himself up from the couch, all the while Satoru is stood in silence, that pitying look he hates being bestowed unto him. The coffee on the table is going cold, not that Suguru has much of a stomach for it anyway.

a/n: soooo yes, reader ran from her problems (sorrrry) but it looks like suguru is about to find out everything...

tags - @animeisforkings @emikisses @boredwithwrath @karazorel7 @tomiokasecretlover  @mrsoharaa @magey0412 @thisbicc @aemiliabruno @zeunys @sukunaspillow @caixgee @ssetsuka @pinkpunkdynamite @harlamarie @chilicopsticks @khoochie @hojoslutoru @karazorel @idkuluka @itztamar @magey0412 @strflp @kaeyakaikai

[0viraptoraskblog]

Hello, I hope you're doing well, I love the things you write!

This is probably going to be a long one. It turns out that ever since I discovered btd 1 and 2, and tpof, I've always been really curious about Ren's character. I imagine that just like me, people must have been surprised to see how he had become in Tpof. I'm SO excited for Ykmet! I know this game is mainly focused on Strade, because of course his name is there! XD

I love him too, but I'm particularly looking forward to seeing the parts with Ren. I know about the changes that Gato has prepared for him, and I hope they're positive, I trust what she's doing.

Anyway! I think I've gone on too long. The thing is, since I finished Tpof, I haven't found many people who give analysis to the older Ren character. I don't know if I'm looking in the wrong place, but I always thought tumblr was the best place to look, because the fandom seems more active here.

There were many things I didn't understand, because I'm terrible at analyzing, I try, but I constantly feel like I end up overthinking, my head always tries to provide several explanations like A, B, C, D, and it goes beyond that.

From your perspective, opinions and thoughts on the DLC, what do you think people often miss about Fox? Something you noticed that some people probably didn't. I would particularly like to know about your interpretation of the ending. Yes, I know it's straightforward and clear, he saves us. But I've always wondered about his motivations. I think that conversation we have with him in the bunker affects him, but in what way? What are his thoughts? And what are his thoughts about us after that?

I constantly noticed that he was also always adjusting his posture in his streams, and in the third one when he bites and then licks the wound on Mc's neck, then he looks almost embarrassed. Was it just because he got too excited or was it something else that i didn't catch because im too stupid? lmao

I'll end the ask here or it will be too long, I apologize for that, and if I didn't manage to express my questions very well

(although, if you answer this, I hope it's okay if I ask a bit more)

I think Fox has built this new version of himself based on being in control. He used to be a captive, always weary of Strade, and then trying and failing to be in control of MC in btd2 (who either died or escaped, given that this is Ren’s darker path). After that, he wanted to be in control for once.

He runs the entire auction system, he has his own show, and he’s incredibly good at what he does. That security not only makes him confident in what he does now, but it makes him finally like who he is (at least, he thinks.)

Young Ren was struggling a lot with his image and self worth, in terms of being treated as a pet/property, being abused, and then convincing himself that it was all because Strade loved him. Those years affected his mind so much. When his plan with MC went wrong after the second game, I think he realized that he should have been following Strade’s advice more. He fell back into that mental state of idolizing Strade and his way of doing things, his way of thinking. Why would Ren try anything else? Of course Strade was right. (This is the wrong idea, sadly, but it must have been the conclusion he turned to.)

It started as him trying to follow the footsteps of the only person he’d ever had to look up to— Strade. That’s why he started doing shows, because Strade was successful and Ren wanted to follow his example. He was also swayed a lot by emotion, the loneliness he felt and the emptiness he has after Strade’s death. Continuing his legacy was a way to fill the void, at least a little. He also needed money sooner or later.

Over time, he started to make it his own. He started to think less about Strade and more about himself. By the time we see Fox, he’s pretty much moved on from Strade. He does it as his own show, in his own name, his own life.

He is a great showman, naturally. That’s where the posture, gestures, and lively way he talks comes from. He knows how to entertain an audience, and he’s spent years perfecting that skill. He does enjoy the shows, to an extent. But remember, when MC asks him why he does this? Because he’s good at it.

He does like the feeling of being in the spotlight, and entertaining an audience— but his answer wasn’t because it’s his passion, not because he likes being in power, but because he’s good at it.

He’s accustomed to it.

The thing I think people miss is that Fox still has that unsure feeling inside. Deep down, he likes you. And he wants to keep you. But the show must go on! He likes who he is now, and he has to perform for chat. Like I said, it started out as ‘that’s what Strade would have done’ when he was younger, but now he’s moved on from Strade and just become so conditioned to it that he doesn’t know how to break the cycle. It’s how the show goes: he tortures someone, does what chat wants, gets paid, and they die in the end. That’s how it’s always gone. But what about when he grows attached?

An Easter egg to prove my point:

Middle picture, third row down He literally hurts himself for letting you go, because he’s realized he likes you, but he doesn’t know how to deny chat. (this happens when you make all the wrong choices when he visits you in the bunker before show 3. Making all the right choices will result in the survival ending.)

That’s why the survival ending is so critical to his character— he did something for himself. Because he wanted to. It’s a sign of him breaking free, and realizing that he can be in charge.

MC’s dialogue choices are important there too. When he tells MC their fate is up to chat, and you say “I thought you were in charge?” It makes him stop and think. You set things in motion for him. That leads you to the ending where he saves you.

As for when he licks the blood on your neck, I think he got a little flustered because he let his animal side show/let his composure fall a bit. A big part of these shows is the power imbalance between him and the victim, and he always puts on a front of being more put together than they are.

But yeah, that’s my mini analysis on Fox. There’s so much more to his character, but that’s for a later date ;) You’re always welcome to ask more!

[ecrivainalene]

Leviathan Panel at Otakon 2024

I was OVERJOYED to be at the Leviathan panel during Otakon 2024! I'll do my best to recap it below, but if you want a more coherent play by play, this Twitter user did an excellent job.

I've got a handful of photos, recap of Sharp Gender Discussion, plus misc. things I remember.

Not everyone was up for the entire time, but I snapped this photo near the end when everyone was on stage! From left to right: Waki Kiyotaka (Studio Orange), Yoshihiro Watanabe (Studio Orange), Scott Westerfeld, Christophe Ferreira (Quibic Pictures), Justin Leach (Quibic Pictures), Katrina Minett (Quibic Pictures), and Diana Garnet (ending theme vocalist).

New concept art! Looks like Dr. Barlow, Klopp, Alek, and Sharp, right before the Germans attack the Leviathan.

More under the cut!

Alternative shot of that art bc I couldn't get my lighting right:

Clanker and Darwinist technology designs. Watanave explained that Studio Orange's early days were spent doing contract work on Gundam anime, so I can't wait to see how that translates to the Clanker machines.

Some more concept art:

By the way, the entire series is being adapted at once - so we'll get the complete story at once! That in mind, the second image here makes me think of that maneuver near the beginning of Goliath to pick up the cargo.

Sharp!!! Look at them!!!

I don't have much to say about these but I'm fairly sure I hadn't seen them before. I am wondering if they downsized Alek's crew for the sake of the story, or perhaps we just haven't seem Bauer and Hoffman yet.

We got some new character art! The panel was very cryptic about who the character designer is. Apparently they're pretty well known, but they can't share it yet!

Volger I am so sorry your photo was unfocused. Forgive me.

The panel jokingly described him as "Alek's dad," which feels accurate. And maybe I misunderstood, but it sounds like he plays an even more important role in the anime than he does in the books. I've always considered Volger to be a pretty important character, so I wonder what else he'll do in this new series.

Klopp looks exactly like how I pictured him in my mind!! They said if Volger is Alek's dad, then Klopp is like his mom. Which is very fair but also made me laugh a lot.

Dr. Barlow!! She looks amazing. There was a lot of talk about the dynamic between her and Volger and how they're often playing mental chess games with each other. I'm really glad they're leaning into that dynamic.

And one more concept art:

This looks like the visit to Istanbul, which I'm desperately hoping means we'll see my favorite chaotic bisexual, Lilit.

That's all of the photos I have! They also showed us a preview of the show plus a live performance of the ending song with Diana Garnet. No video recording was allowed and I don't break rules, but believe me when I tell you it was stunning. The world feels so full of life and adventure and I can't wait to see the final show.

Tbh I was too busy holding back tears of joy but one thing I remember distinctly is there's a shot of Sharp getting ready for the day, and we see a sheet of paper with a bunch of names written and crossed out before finally (I think) "Dylan" is circled.

Which actually brings me to the Q&A part. TLDR, between the use of "Sharp" for Deryn's name, Scott referring to Sharp as "she/he/they" during the panel, and the scene I mentioned earlier, I feel really hopeful about how they're approaching Deryn's gender and identity in this adaptation.

I asked a question about this at the Q&A and voice recorded it, so I'll try to transcribe it here as best I can because the audio is not great lol. I stumbled through my question so I trimmed it down here but I'll transcribe the response as clearly as I can!

Me: I just finished re-reading [the series] for the first time since I was probably in high school, and one of the things that interests me about this adaptation is the approach to Sharp's character... I guess I'm just interested, like, was there a lot of thought put behind, or what kind of thought was put behind how to approach their character in the anime, I guess as a chance to re-approach the story however many years after it was originally written.

Scott Westerfeld: Yeah, there's a lot to that. The "girl dressing as a boy" as a trope was something completely different in 2007 when I started writing this than it is now. And so we really approached Deryn's identity as what was at stake rather than just... rather than just her being in disguise, it's about their recreating themselves and becoming a different person and transitioning and, and so... but it's always been interesting to me that the words that I wrote back in 2009, 10, 11, y'know, as an old guy who grew up in Texas in the 70s - who was David Bowie fan! - but otherwise didn't have a lot of access into issues of gender, I'm amazed at how many people have been [able to?] adopt Deryn/Dylan as one of their own. I just got an email a week ago from a trans boy whose chosen name is Dylan. So it is amazing to me how whatever imperfections or whatever problematics there are in the text, people still find their way into what they need from a character. And as a writer, I can say that I always respected that character, I always respected their choices, I always respected who they were. I never tried to stick them into a dress and have everyone go "Ooh now you're pretty 'because 'cause you're in dress!" We didn't do that, and I think that what may be important for people and I think that's why it's still what's gonna work here, but it's been fun to be able to update it and everybody on the team's been really great about understanding that.

TLDR I don't want to get anyone's hopes up too high, but I'm really appreciative of the care that's being taken with Sharp's story and identity in this adaptation. It seems like Scott and the others on the team are taking that into account, and I'm excited to see how it plays out.

Other random things I remember:

THERE WAS AN ALEK COSPLAYER. I took a photo with them but I won't post it without their consent. Just trust that they looked fantastic.

Scott said one of the first things he was told was that Alek can't actually kill Nikola Tesla because he's too well loved by people in Japan, which I think is the funniest possible reason for a change to be made in an adaptation.

Diana Garnet (they/any) mentioned how much they love Sharp (don't we all) and also how they used to work at a Barnes and Noble and remembers selling lots of Westerfeld books!

Scott said his approach in writing Leviathan was taking everything he'd always wanted to write about and basically throwing it together, because he was just coming off of the success of Uglies and figured he could get away with it.

If I remember anything else I'll add on to this post! Overall, it was a wonderful panel and I'm incredibly excited for this project.