#because to the outside observer they seem like they despise one another

[likeapro42]

So Linked Universe Hyrule Warriors is basically Tiny!Time (Mask) and Wind who end up fighting with Wars during his adventure and sorta mentoring him, right?

Well, I had a hilarious idea: what if Lana was trying to summon the Hero of Legend because of all of his exploits and experience, but she kept missing and that’s why Wind, Mask, Ravio, Marin and everyone else that’s Legend-adjacent shows up instead?

[xetlynn]

arcane imagines- vander

it’s (no longer) quiet

pt 2, to this [it’s quiet]

prompt: :)

“Love, could you take that customer. Gotta open a new box.” Your husband passes you, give your thigh a light tap while doing so. You hum in response, nodding your head.

Lately you haven’t been feeling too well. Nausea hitting you like a truck. A lump constantly stuck in your throat. 

Sweat also seems to be never ending in your pores. Giving you that awful oily look that you despised. Heading over to the lady sat at a table, peering over the drink menu. Swallowing down hard you force a smile upon your lips. “What can I get for ya, hun?” Your eye is slightly twitching. “What do you recommend?” She glances up to you and you don’t have the chance to hide the grimace that etched your facial expression. 

You try to play it off, covering it with a bigger smile. “I’d have to go with a plain ol’ Sazerac.” You tell her, which is truly one of your favorites and it’s quite easy to make. “I guess I’ll go with that then.” The lady grins, closing the menu and clasping her hands together. Your shoulders slump, grateful that she wasn’t a difficult customer. “Be right back with that then, my love.” You head back over to the bar. 

As you make the simple drink, you open the absinthe and the smell of herbal like licorice hits your nose instantly. You gag, covering your mouth with the back of your hand. Vander plops down a box of unopened alcohol, raising a brow over at you. Silently you excuse yourself, rushing to the bathroom. Pushing past two randoms. Shoving the stall door and falling to your knees as you throw up. The toast from this morning violently came up. 

Vander went to follow after you but a customer stopped him from doing so, complaining about his drink order. He mentally curses but knows once you come back he can question you about what just happened. 

You flush the toilet, huffing as you stand back up from the disgusting floor. Going to the sink and washing your face and hands. Staring in the broken mirror that you’ve had to replace multiple times already. You observe yourself, looking pale compared to your normal complexion. Your eyes sunken in. A hot mess. 

Sighing you had an idea of what was happening but you plead that you were wrong. Your husband already explained how he felt, so if this was happening. You had no idea how to go about this. How to tell him. Another part of you secretly hoped that it was happening. That selfish part of you. 

You snatch a paper towel, wiping off your hands and face before tossing it in the trash and leaving the bathroom. Fixing your posture. You go behind the counter, making a quick soda and downing it to get the wretched taste out of your mouth. The carbonation burning your throat as it seeps down. Slamming the cup down you go back to making that stupid drink. Holding your breath as you pour the absinthe this time. 

Not noticing that your husband was watching you the entire time. How you didn’t make yourself your own sazerac like you normally did everytime a customer ordered one. Sipping on the drink throughout your shift. 

And later that night after closing, you didn’t even take a shower. Going straight to bed and passing out as your body hits the mattress. Not even covering yourself with the blankets. Which was something that you strictly had to do every night. But fatigue got the better of you. Vander changed your clothes for you, knowing how much you hate outside clothes in your bed. He’s a little worried about your behavior. He hopes you’re not coming down with something. 

Because when you’re sick, it hits you extremely hard and you don’t let anyone help you even though you obviously need someone to. His independent wife. He climbs into bed after his own shower, turning the lamp off and letting you curl into him. He feels your forehead and thankfully you’re not hot but you are sweating. A sign he still doesn’t like but much preferred over a scorching fever. 

•••

You wake up in an empty bed, drenched in sweat. You gaze over to the clock beside your bed, tired. Your eyes widen once you see the time. Two hours past the time you were supposed to open the bar. You shoot up, grabbing clean clothes and heading to the shower. “I don’t even remember falling asleep last night.” You whisper to yourself, wracking your brain for the memory of the night before. As you take your clothes off, clothes you again don’t remember even putting on, you grow irritated with yourself. 

“I need to get a test.” You murmur, climbing into the shower and taking a swift, quick shower. Washing off the disgusting sheen of sweat that covered your skin.

You throw your clothes on, attempting to look as presentable as possible, rushing to the front of your house. You don’t even see the figure standing in your doorway as you try to find your shoes. “Mom, if you’re looking for your shoes you should give up.” The voice startles you, your heart beating through your chest as your glare up at your eldest daughter. “Vi,” You puff, clenching at your heart. “Gonna give your old woman a heart attack.” You pout. 

She apologizes through a laugh. “Dad said you were sick, so he opened with Claggor’s help. Go back to bed.” She crosses her arms and you raise a brow. “He turned my alarm off.” You state, clearly upset with Vander. 

“You’re sick, of course he did.” Violet steps over to you and you roll your eyes. “I’m not sick.” You disagree and she gives you a look. “What? You don’t believe your own mother?” You point a finger at her. “Calling her a liar? Cause if you are you got another thing comin’-”

“Mom.” She puts her hands on your shoulders and you slump down. “Okay, fine. I’m possibly coming down with something.” Your head falls as you lie. You couldn’t tell her that it’s actually, probably from being pregnant. How do you tell your daughter that? “Go lie down, dad sent me to take care of you for the day.” She shoos you back to your bedroom and your jaw slacks as your feet move underneath you. “I’m not a child!” You exclaim. 

“Just go rest.” She orders and you let out a breath in disbelief by the treatment you were receiving. You kick off your work pants, changing into sweatpants and you lay down in your bed. Glaring at nothing, annoyed with your loving family. But as you calm down you realize you can take today to get that pregnancy test from the store. You’d just have to figure out how to get Violet to leave to do so. 

Thirty minutes pass and Violet comes into your room with a steaming bowl, she hands it to you and you stare down at it. Tears threaten the brim of your eyes immediately. “Is this-” You choke on your own words and Violet stands there awkwardly. “It’s your old recipe, the soup you made us as kids.” She finishes your sentence and tears stream down your face as you start to eat it. “Uh… why are you crying?” 

“You’re so cute, oh my gosh.” You sniffle, shoving spoonfuls in your mouth dramatically. “I can’t be-believe you remembered!” You sob and Violet starts to panic. She didn’t know what to do at that moment. She’s rarely ever seen you cry before. “Sit down with me.” You tell her and she hesitantly listens. 

“I have to tell you something.” You wipe your tears away. She nervously looks around the room, wondering what the next words out of your mouth are going to be. “Promise me you won’t tell anyone. Even Cait.” You stick a pinky out to her and she smirks down at your hand. You taught them what pinky promises were, using it as more of a “promise to behave.” type of thing. Not to promise to keep a secret. That was something you were heavily against. 

“No secrets in this household.” You’d all point to them as they lined up in shame after you figured them out for the umpteenth time. “A secret, mom?” Violet tilts her head to the side and you shush her. 

“Don’t think of it as a secret… think of it as… a uh something kept between you and I. Our little thing.” You smile softly and she deadpans at you. “That’s a secret.” 

Your face falls. “Whatever, nevermind. Leave me and my soup.” You shrivel in place, now eating with a frown. Eyebrows furrowed as you do so. “Fine, fine, I promise.” Your daughter sticks her pinky out and you take it with a mouth full of the food she made. Shaking her pinky before letting go. “Okay.” You sit back up. 

“Wow, okay. I don’t know how to say this.” You chew at your bottom lip, thinking this through. “I uh, I think. That doesn’t sound right. Um…” You stammer helplessly, Violet was beginning to get antsy. Staring at you. “Mom.” She places a hand on your knee and you sheepishly grin. “Sorry.”

 “I think I’m pregnant.” You blurt out and Violet sits there silently. Her eyes widened, her mouth open in shock. “I don’t know for sure. I just, I’m having all the symptoms you know. My boobs are quite sore. Do you know how uncomfortable that is?” You ramble on to your daughter who can’t even comprehend what she was just told. “Are you going to say something or am I going to keep talking like an idiot? I just told you, you might have another sibling.” You blink at her, slurping on the soup once again, acting incredibly nonchalant. 

Violet seems to have snapped out of her chance as she closes her mouth and then opens it back up to speak. “You and dad still do it?” She asks and you look taken aback. “Still? What?” You place the bowl on your nightstand. “I mean, like you guys are kind of older… I didn’t know you could still get pregnant. I don’t actually want to know that you and dad do it. That’s gross.” She says, grimacing in disgust and your face twitches downward. “Old!? I’m 38! And it’s perfectly natural! I walked in on you and Caitlyn so let's not forget that.” You throw your hands up, shoving a finger in her face. Her face turns red at your words. “Oh my god.” She covers her face and you laugh. “You promised you wouldn’t bring it up!” She cries out and you bear your teeth, giving a small apology. 

“Anyways… are you sure?” She grabs your now empty hands and you take a deep breath. “I don’t know, I need to take a test. Make an appointment with a doctor.” You tell her truthfully. “I can go get you one, if you want?” She offers and you shake your head. “Nah, I’m gonna go. If you want to come with you can, though.” You say, standing up from the bed. Taking your dirty dish with you. 

“Does dad have any idea?” Violet asks, walking beside you as you guys head into the store. “No, I don’t even know how he’s going to react.” You press your lips together. 

•••

Getting back to your house you notice the lights are on in the living room, your face falls. Violet goes to open the door but you stop her. “Your dad’s home, hold on.” You mutter, shoving the pregnancy test in your pocket. As you do so the door opens loudly. Vander standing there with a disappointed expression. “Love, why can’t you just rest.” He grumbles. You grin up at him, your face turning warm by the fact that you were almost caught. “Sorry, sweetheart.” 

“Vi, I got it covered. You can go.” He exasperates and she glances over to you. You nod your head, giving her a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll tell you later.” Side hugging her as you whispered into her ear. “Tell Cait I said hi.” You wave her off as she walks away. “Will do!” 

You then face back to your husband who’s facial expression never falters. “Get back to bed, please.” He gives you space to move past him. “I gotta go pee first, am I allowed to do that?” You ask him in a smart tone. He runs a hand through his long hair, shaking his head. You stress him out. “I guess.” He gruffs, and you hurriedly rush into the tiny room. Slamming the door behind you. 

Vander patiently waits for you, leaning against the couch. After about ten minutes he begins to wonder what you’re actually doing in there. He goes up to the door and as he lifts his fist to knock he hears you sniffling. “Love?” He speaks worriedly. You clear your throat, “yes?” Trying to hide the wavering in your voice. “You okay in there, didn’t fall in, did ya?” He jokes and you let out a small giggle through the tears. “No, I didn’t fall in.” You almost inaudibly say before opening the door. 

Showing the two tests that sit on the counter. His eyes automatically flicker over to them. It was quiet between the both of you as he picked them up. “I peed on those.” You warn him. He ignores you though. Staring at the bright double lines that show on the plastic sticks. “You’re pregnant?” He doesn’t look at you, still kept on what's in his hand.

“Yeah… I’m sorry.” You whisper, letting shame engulf you. His head snaps in your direction, dropping the tests. “You have nothing to be sorry for, [Name]. What are you on about?” He forces you to look up at him. 

“I know you don’t want this.” You shutter, crying for the third time that day. His face softens. “Love, why would you say that?” He asks you. “You said it, you said we don’t have the time for a baby. And we agreed a long time ago we wouldn’t have biological children. That our four we had were enough!” Your body wracked with sobs as you explained.  He thinks back to the conversation in the bar before… your fun activities. He bites his bottom lip, looking down at you.

“Well, we kind of didn’t do anything to prevent that from happening these last two months.” He scratches the back of his head. Ever since that night 60 days ago, the two of you had been going at it like teenagers. “B-but-”

“[Name], my love, it’s okay. We’ll figure this out together.” He brings you into an embrace. “You want to keep it?” You peep up at him from his chest as his large arms engulf you. He smiles. “Of course,” he cranes his neck down to peck your lips. One of his hands going up and wiping your tears. 

“We’ll make an appointment for next week.” He says, still holding you close to him. 

He stares down at the pregnancy tests, it wasn’t ideal for sure, not exactly planned but he knows the both of you will be okay. This baby will be loved just as much as your other children. He grows excited to see what the mix of the two will look like. Also thinking about how plump you’re going to get. Your stomach that will grow round with him. Your breasts that he remembered you said were already tender the other day. 

You admire him, pondering what his thoughts could be. That gets cut off by getting poked in your stomach and your lips etch upward. Your eyes innocently peering up at him. “You like the fact that I’m pregnant?” You tease him and he scoffs. “That your seed took and I’m going to have your baby.” You purr in a sultry tone, pulling away from him and reaching up. Grabbing his face and making him look down at you. 

“Hm, my dear husband?” You ask and his heart skips a beat. Your tear stained face smirks up at him. “Keep talking like that and you won’t be leaving the house for a while.” He grunts, you take that as a challenge. 

“Like what?” You ask, a hand going to your stomach. “I’m just stating the fact that you impregnated me… fucked me so good while doing so.” Your eyes don’t leave his, watching his facial expressions. How his eyes dilate and go dark with lust. 

Abruptly he lifts you in the air, your legs wrapping around his waist. “Gonna keep you on bed rest this wwwhhoolee pregnancy, my love.” He growls in your ear and you giggle excitedly. Attacking his neck with kisses.

[hittmeandtellmeyouremine]

best mistake!

pairing: ex!rafe x reader summary: break up, make up, total waste of time. warnings: swearing, drinking, and mentions of (his) drug problems. word count: 1.3k words a/n: there's a second half to this in my drafts, one that includes smut. let me know if you want it!

the second you arrived at the midsummers party, rafe couldn't take his eyes off of you. his eyes raked over your figure in the white dress you wore. the lace, black accents of the piece seemed to sting more than they should've.

he took another sip of his drink as he saw you giggling with your sister, happy without him. meanwhile he was drinking away his sorrows and bitterly recalling how you were supposed to be his date. how you had a matching dress to pair with his suit, it would've been perfect.

if you hadn't broken up with him.

he spent the whole night observing you. how you danced with sarah, talked with your friends, sang along to whatever song was playing. he hated it because he loved it. he loved watching you be happy. he despised that you were doing it without him though, despite him being the reason for that.

eventually, he had had enough of just watching. before his brain could rationalize his actions, he had downed his second third glass and pulled out his phone. his fingers quickly swiped over the screen, opening up your messages. the long stream of blue almost discouraged him but then he saw your wandering eyes.

miss you meet me outside please?

you felt your phone buzz, tucked into your stocking. you reached down to slide it out, breath hitching when you saw rafe's name pop up three times.

he should have been blocked, you should have kept your distance from him and called it quits for good. key words: should have.

you were going to ignore it, you really were. but then you felt a pair of eyes burn into you. your eyes couldn't help but search for the culprit, even if deep down you knew exactly who it was. you wanted the confirmation— needed it.

your eyes found his blue ones across the mass of bodies separating you two. he nodded off towards the exit, giving topper and kelce a shitty excuse about him having a headache before walking away.

you sucked your teeth, slipping your phone back into your stocking and giving your friends your own shitty excuse before you feet took you towards the exit. you gave all of the knowing neighbors you passed a small smile, small greetings left your lips in response some of the mothers.

the people's princess, as rafe would call you.

you made your way outside the building, seeing him leaning against his bike in the back of the parking lot. you huffed, heels clicking against the concrete as you made your way over.

"you always were too fucking nice for your own good" he muttered the minute you were in reach. he closed the distance between you two, grabbing you by your hips and pulling you against him.

"stop it, rafe" you hissed, pushing away from him. "we're not together anymore"

"according to who? because i never agreed to that" he shakes his head, ignoring your protest and replacing his hand back on your waist.

"i told you we were done"

"yeah? if we're so done then why are you out here, huh?" he questioned, lowering his head slightly to look you in your eyes.

"you chose drugs over me, remember?" you reminded. it was a low blow, you both knew it.

the real reason you had broken up with him. his coke habit had gotten the best of him. it ate away at your relationship like some sort of parasite. he had gotten mean, negligent, the drugs became more important than you — or anything else, for that matter.

for a second, you see the anger flash in his eyes. that same anger that had been so prevalent towards the end of your relationship. the memory of your last argument resurfaces in both your minds. you watch that anger morph into guilt.

"i'm clean now" he retorts, jaw clenching. "doesn't that count for something?"

your jaw matched his, knowing the true intention behind his words. this was all in attempt of getting you back, reclaiming what he thought was his. rafe was your first everything, he held that very close to him.

he watched you try to fight the tension between you, the obvious pull. his thumb slipped under the fabric of your dress, rubbing small circles onto your side.

he smirked to himself slightly as he took in the sight of you. before you two had broken up you had gotten a dress that matched his suit, baby blue accents to compliment him rather than suffocate everyone with the colors.

you refused to wear that dress, given the two of you were no longer together. instead, you opted for a white babydoll dress, it was flowy and short. black lace trim and accents littered the piece. there were no obvious signs of rafe, not until you got lower. over your black stockings, beneath your black heels — that were a gift from rafe. baby blue socks that matched perfectly with his suit, so subtle no one else would be able to make the connection. except for him.

"you know you're the only girl i love" he whispered, the nail in the coffin.

the way he said it, it reminded you of those sleepless nights. the ones where he had you sprawled out on his mattress beneath him. when he settled between your thighs and fucked pretty noises out of you.

he has to bite back a smirk as he sees what's happening, how he's reeling you back in. you were like putty in his hand, his even when you had written him off. his hand moves up to cup your face, fingers digging into your cheeks softly.

"tell me to fuck off" he nods, pupils dilating. "tell me we're done for good"

a brief moment of silence passes between you two. he sees the gears in your head turning, contemplating on doing just what he said.

"have you been with anyone else?" you ask, looking at him with hopeful eyes. he has to mask the guilt that washes over him.

he hesitates, his eyes flicking away briefly before locking back onto yours. he knows this question was coming, and he hates the power it has over him. he swallows hard, his jaw clenching.

"no," he answers gruffly, lying through his teeth.

“promise?” you ask, the sharpness in his eyes almost giving him away.

"promise" he nods, his tone reassuring as ever.

one lie couldn't hurt, not when he did it all in search of you. every girl he had slipped into, he imagined it was you. there were a few times when your named slipped from his lips instead of whatever girl was beneath him. none of them ever felt as good as you, though. he stopped when he came to that conclusion.

"what about you?" he mumbles, thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

he tried to act indifferent to it, telling himself if you did he couldn't be mad. but he couldn't help the violent plan that formed in his mind, if you had slept with someone else.

he hoped like hell that you didn't. he didn't mind the blood that would be on his hands, not when it came to his girl and reminding everyone on the island she was his.

"no, i couldn't" you whispered.

it was one of the things he loved about you, how loyal you were. even when he knew he didn't deserve it. you were his personal fucking angel sent from above.

rafe feels a rush of triumph at getting that confirmation from you. he knows he still holds a power over you, despite everything. his fingers thread through your hair, tilting your head back slightly. 

"good girl" he praises.

your skin heats up at the pet name. rafe knew exactly how to play you, what strings to pull to get what he wanted.

and you were what he wanted.

-

[maraudersilver]

despise you (Sirius Black x Potter!Reader)

Sirius Black x Fem!Potter!Reader - Chapter 2

Series masterlist

wc: 2,8K

cw: swearing, angst, Sirius being Sirius

The weekend went by in the blink of an eye. Sunday morning had been quite the sight in both the Slytherin and Hufflepuff tables during lunch, given nobody had been awake for breakfast. Your head had been pounding. Apparently, even if you get to fall asleep during a party, the loudness of it penetrates your dreams and leaves you restless. 

For some miracle you denied to pray for, there was no prank for your house or housemates. You were sure the Marauders had been down there to set one, especially in vengeance for the Quidditch match, but luckily whatever thoughts crossed their minds made them turn around empty handed.

Now Monday afternoon, Regulus sat next to you in Defense, head dropped on his hand while he twisted his quill absentmindedly on his fingers. Professor Bassel was revising the lesson about vampires, something that you had studied the year before. A couple of yawns came from Barty, who swung in the back legs of his chair in an attempt to drop ink on Umbridge’s hair. 

You at least pretended to pay attention, writing down whenever Bassel looked your way. Although you supposed scribbling down the results of the tic-tac-toe tournament going on at the end of the classroom between Pandora and some Ravenclaws was not as productive as it would seem from outside. 

“Pandora wins. Davis lost,” Dorcas informed from the desk behind you in a whisper, turning back around to continue observing the in-other-situation dull game. 

“Final between Pandora and Craftwood,” you mumbled, drawing the last square. 

Regulus squinted his eyes to look at your notebook, nodding pleasantly at the results. With a quick look back, he smirked when the both of you saw the Ravenclaw boy with sweat running down his temples. Pandora had cornered him. 

“What was the prize again?”

“Notes of all classes for a whole month,” you replied quietly, doodling what was supposed to be a flower on another page.

“Just from Craftwood?”

“Nu-uh. All Ravenclaw sixth years.”

“I don’t know if I trust anyone’s notes besides mine,” grumbled Regulus, leaning back on his chair.

“Then make your own,” you shrugged, giving him your sweetest smile when he glared at you. “What?”

He simply shook his head, huffing and twisting his quill again, now quicker. 

Suddenly, a bunch of cheers and boos came from the back of the classroom. Everyone turned back, just in time to see Pandora lifting a hand in triumph while all Ravenclaws sulked or groaned in defeat. Pandora won, so you surrounded her name with vigour. That month you wouldn’t need to pay attention to Arithmancy

“Care to explain the fuss?” Passel passive-aggressively asked, earning a few quiet apologies and silence. “Well? Rosier. You had your hand up. Did you have any questions? Maybe you can also explain the commotion.”

Pandora had a dreamy look on her, almost as if she wasn’t present at all. Before she could open her mouth, a small ring sound interrupted her. Saved by the bell. Without another look to Professor Bassel, you gathered all your things and followed Regulus out of the class, where you waited for the rest of your friends to head to the library. 

Christmas was around the corner and most Professors had been assigning too much work lately. Ancient Runes alone would take more than two hours to complete the assignment. Dorcas grabbed your arm, leading you up the stairs in a rush.

“Why are we running?” you asked out of breath, almost spitting your lungs out of your body when you finally reached the wooden doors.

Dorcas didn’t reply. Not that it was necessary, because the moment you stepped foot at the library you saw Marlene McKinnon sat with her friends at one of the tables.

“Really, Dorcas?” you huffed, shaking your head. “Go sit with them if you like. I’m actually going to study.”

Dorcas rolled her eyes. “Whatever. Come find me later when you leave.”

“You coming with us to Slytherin?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief, and the girl scoffed.

“Depends. See you later, Potter.”

Dorcas strutted towards the table where the Gryffindor girls were quietly studying, sitting next to McKinnon with a haughty mettle you had never seen on her. The blonde smirked at Dorcas, wriggling her eyebrows at something your friend had said. Meanwhile, Mary and Lily just sighed in mirth.

“Abandoned for a girl. Is this the fate that awaits us?” Barty exclaimed dramatically from beside you, startling you as you didn’t hear him approach. You hushed him, the nearer students to where you stood looking in annoyance to the boy. “Can a man not outloud his concerns?”

“Not at the library,” you snapped. “And what’s with the formal speech? Are you Regulus now or what?”

“I do not speak like that,” drawled the mentioned boy, passing by your side and dropping himself in a chair nearby.

“Um. You do.” Barty cheekily tapped Regulus’ head, earning a snarl from the Black younger brother.

Barty took another table a little more hidden than the one Regulus was sprawled on. The black haired boy groaned, but took his things again and the two of you followed Barty behind the bookshelves. 

“Where’s Pandora?” you asked confused, trying to get a look at the main door.

“Went to the Ravenclaw common room to clarify the prize for the tournament.”

You nodded at Barty, and then took your Ancient Runes homework. It was quiet for a while, the three of you settling on a work environment that managed to make you work harder. 

Little over an hour, however, commotion sounded from where you remembered Marlene and her friends were studying. Masculine voices were prominent, and inward you prayed, actually prayed, for the Marauders not to find you or your group. You were sorry for Lily, but it was her turn to entertain your brother and his idiotic friends.

Luck was not on your side that day, either. You hadn't realized that the person sat on the table next to yours was Remus Lupin. He had been so quiet and surrounded by a wall of books that it had been impossible to get a glimpse of him until he snapped his head up at the voices of his friends. 

“You have to be kidding me,” you groaned, Regulus nodding in agreement.

Remus tilted his head and crossed looks with you, giving you a small smile before standing up to get his group from gaining detention for disrupting the library. You sighed and rubbed your temples, preparing yourself for another unwanted encounter.

You had tried to avoid them since Saturday night. Especially Sirius. The way your heart started fluttering lately whenever you saw him was starting to worry you. What if he had poured some kind of concoction developed by the evil minds of the Marauders on your drink during summer? That could be the explanation. A slow kill. It had to be it. Him and James had probably wanted to test it on you before pranking half the school with it. Tachycardia whenever you saw the one who poured it. Definitely it was that. 

Regulus nudged you out of your confabulations when your brother, Sirius and Peter prowled towards the table Remus was directing them to. Thankfully for you, Sirius didn’t even grant you a glance. ‘Bloody awesome’, you thought, although your chest tightened uncomfortably at the lack of attention. You wanted to whine, you really needed to get rid of the effects of the potion.

Your -questionable- peace lasted a few seconds until James decided to pass by and place his hands on your side of the table, leaning in to greet you with a mischievous smile. Honestly, you felt too old for this. Even if you were younger than James.

“Whacha doing sis?” James asked sweetly. Voice so wrapped in honey you prepared yourself for the upcoming prank. 

“If you dare to-”

“Wow! I haven’t done anything!” ‘yet’, you thought. James raised his hands in a gesture of proclaiming innocence. “Just came by to see my favourite sister. How’s everything going?”

“I’m your only sister,” you deadpanned. “And I highly doubt I’m your favourite.”

“Always so hard on yourself,” James chuckled, and Barty shushed him. “Oh?”

“Some people here want to study, Potter. I’d reckon you do the same.”

Regulus and you groaned, and James looked at Barty in bemusement. “What’s wrong with your talking, man?”

“Oi! I’ll have you know, my talking is perfectly fine.”

“Junior, dude, stop it.” You shook your head, secondhand embarrassment scrapping your chest. 

At Barty’s tantrum, you tried to get Regulus’ attention for some backup, but his sight had been placed on a pink cupcake-like figure at the end of the corridor. By James' sudden turn of his head, your face probably reflected the same horror you felt inside.

“Regulus! No, I fuckin’ forbid it. Bloody Umbridge? Really? Miss Strawberry Cupcake? The cat lady? Rumor has it she tortures first years in the girl’s bathroom!” you yell-whispered in despair.  

“The hell you on about?” Regulus complained, looking back at you with eyes that clearly said ‘you’re crazy’.

Apparently, his brother’s name paired with a girl’s in the same sentence had gained Sirius’ attention, because in less than you could say ‘quidditch’, he was crouched before you at your table much to your distress. You definitely weren’t finishing Ancient Runes anytime soon. 

“Want a lady’s attention, brother beloved?” Sirius mocked, and you could see in Regulus’ face the moment he regretted being born.

After having Sirius living with you and your parents for the last two summers, you knew him and Regulus weren’t on speaking terms. So you could only imagine the confusion your friend was experiencing from the inside. 

“No,” Regulus deadpanned and looked down at his Transfiguration essay, ignoring the inquisitorial look of his brother.

“Seemed like that, um, pinky chick caught your eye,” Sirius tried again, his face twisting slightly at the sight of Umbridge. For once in your life, you agreed with him in that.

“This is your fault,” Regulus grumbled at you grumpily, Sirius’ statement disregarded. “I don’t fucking like her.”

You raised your hands in surrender, feeling almost bad for him with how much attention you’d pulled over him. Barty, on his part, had leaned back on his chair and was observing the quarrel as if it was a tennis match. He caught your eye for a moment and waggled his eyebrows, causing you to snort.

“Sorry, Reg. It’s just, you also looked at her before at Defense and-”

“I did not!”

“She got you wrapped around her finger, huh? Knew you had it in you, Reggie,” Sirius laughed, earning a few glares from the students nearby, including Remus, who had gone back to his book fort. He didn’t even look ashamed. His grey eyes passed from Regulus to you, amusement glinting in them before winking at you. Shameless. 

Your heart fluttered again, and you made a mental note to ask James about the freaking antidote to whatever those two airheads had decided to pull on you. Your paranoia was only amplified by the warmth that went up to your neck and cheeks. Could this be considered attempted murder?

“I hate you all. Go fuck yourselves.”

Regulus stood up abruptly and, quicker than you had ever witnessed, he gathered his things and stormed away from the library. A low whistle came from Barty, who just shrugged his shoulders comically. On the other hand, dread settled on your chest. Definitely, your intention hadn’t been to embarrass your best friend in front of his brainless brother. 

“Well. He needs a little bit of encouragement.” Sirius shrugged, copying Barty’s movements and looked back at James, who had stood nearby along with Peter. “Although I should lecture him about which girls are actually worth it,” he snickered, and Peter snorted.

And look. Umbridge was not your cup of tea. Hell, you couldn’t even stand her. But the way Sirius was talking about her based on her looks more than her morals made your blood boil. 

James saw it coming before the other boys. He recoiled back to Remus, who just shot him a bored glare. Meanwhile, Peter and Sirius were still cackling, and Barty had opted to look at the ceiling, awaiting for what was to come when he saw your fists clenching at your sides.

“And who are worth it, Black?” you spat with venom.

Sirius turned to look at you bemusedly, only to grant you a half smile relying more on a sly smirk. “Definitely not her.”

“And why not?” Seriously. You had just wanted to finish your homework. Why did Sirius always end up looking for a fight?

“You’re smart, Potter, aren’t you? Look at her. She looks like she fought a factory of baking Pygmy Puffs.” Now Peter was howling, hands gripping his stomach. Sirius just prided on it.

Dolores Umbridge could be many things. A blood supremacist, annoying, too righteous, overlying the psychopath definition in the dictionary, a maniac… An overall awful person. And if Sirius had given you any of those reasons, you would have -reluctantly- agreed with him. But you were sure he didn’t even know her. Probably knew nothing about her. Just judging her for her love of pink. Which, yes, you also found excessive, but everyone had their vices.

“If all the girls in this school knew how disgusting you are, neither would want to touch you with a stick, Black,” you snarled, face as neutral as when you played magic poker with Evan, the difference residing in the deathly glare you were setting on the boy.

You saw him flinching, almost imperceptible, his face falling down slightly before his expression turned into a wry face. “Talking from experience, Potter? Don’t remember seeing you with anyone. Feeling lonely?” He cooed, a fake pout decorating his features. “If you want me to snog you that bad, be a good girl and ask for it. Maybe I could consider it.”

You felt something breaking in your chest, agonizingly so that you swore your heart was clenching itself to death. The tickle in your stomach transformed into a churn. You never got along with him, but was he always this despicable? 

Without uttering another word, you decided upon following Regulus’ steps. Maybe you should have done so when he did. An encounter with the Marauders never brought any good with it. 

“Oi!” James called your name, brows furrowing in worry. “Where are you going?”

After placing the last of your books in your bag, you turned to Barty. “You coming?” He shook his head, signaling to the unfinished Potions essay scattered on his side. “Right. When you leave, tell Dorcas.”

“Potter.” Sirius called, his expression matching James’. “Potter, I was joking. I didn’t-”

“James.” You ignored Sirius, and your brother nodded with wide eyes. “I want the antidote for whatever you and the piece of shit you have for a friend spilled on my drink during summer. Tomorrow at breakfast.”

You didn’t let him reply and stormed off from the library, much like Regulus had done a few minutes before. 

“What antidote? What she talking about?” Peter asked, drinking on the clueless expression on both boys’ faces. 

“No idea,” admitted Sirius, pinching his eyebrows with his eyes still fixed on where you had been moments prior.

“You didn’t have to be such a dickhead, you know?” James chastised, crossing his arms.

On the way to the common room you tried to keep your tears at bay. You weren’t sure why you were so upset. It was Sirius, he always bickered with you.

But that hadn’t been bickering. No. He had really shot his arrow where it hurt the most. And the worst of all, you had let him do it by showing how affected you were. You didn’t really care if boys liked you or not, you had other worries. But sometimes, late at night, you wondered if anyone would ever be able to love you.

It was in times like this that you envied James. He was popular, especially amongst the girls, and even if Lily was his main goal, he had his fair share of hookups. So why, if you were his sister, if you had the same genes, weren’t you pursued by boys?

In the middle of your self pity, someone called your name. Turning around, you found yourself face to face with a radiant Pandora, who was shaking some parchments on her hands.

“Look what I got! Notes from today’s classes! I also have Arithmancy,” she sang-song. And as much as you loved Pandora, you weren’t in the mood to feel grateful.

So you just hummed, attempting a smile towards her before resuming your walk to the Slytherin common room, leaving a bewildered Pandora behind.

Regulus wasn’t in his usual spot, so you assumed his brother had hurt him as much as you. Great. You sighed, you would try to mend your mistakes with your best friend tomorrow.

Sirius knew where he was aiming. And you knew he thrived in your pain. If not, why would he be so cruel? And why would he prank you so badly? 

Tomorrow, when you drank the antidote, you were sure you’d feel less miserable, and your heart would return to normalcy once it forgot the spell casted by Sirius Black.

[rahuratna]

Since I'm on that Kogami brainrot today, here's some of the man himself, the beautiful, intellectual badass who lives rent-free in my mind at all times.

*A little addition to this post, for Kogami's birthday*

When I first watched Psycho Pass, his character left a very strong impression on me. He was one of the few elements of the 'system' that treated the newbie Akane with true unbiased empathy. Although he may come across as cold and unconcerned, it's very evident that he's exceptionally observant of other's actions, and instinctual in his response to them.

Not only does he learn to respect Akane as his junior, he also values her opinion and philosophy, which is antithetical to his own. Yes, he's written to be a foil to Akane, but the mutual respect and trust they have in one another, in spite of their differences, has always stood out to me as one of the best portrayals of such relationships.

Kogami channels the spirit of a 'hound off the leash' when he hunts down his targets, a symbolic comparison that's been made more than once. Uncontrolled, fixated on the hunt, determined to reach his goal no matter the cost. Beneath his understated exterior lies a man tortured by his own powerlessness within the system, a man who finally snaps because that is where his path led him, inevitably.

Kogami later looks much more at home in his new role, outside of the system he despises, but no less driven to make a lasting difference to society. He's a lone wolf, a man who operates outside the comforts provided by a stable place in society, but in this wilderness, he thrives. He is made anew.

It may seem like a contradiction, but in the sense of a character like his, these components tie together to make a coherence that sings with originality. He is a lone wolf, yes. But he operates so heavily in a network of others whose ideas he has absorbed, whose lives he has observed, whose trust he has gained. He is alone, and yet, an unfailing man for the people.

And that's Kogami Shinya for you.

[leggerefiore]

If you still want ideas for Volo, here’s one.

Volo’s a villain and people rightfully oppose him, but that negative public image would also apply to his lover too.

You (his partner) probably aren’t treated as badly as he is, but it’s clear that people don’t want to associate with his you, either because they’re against Volo or because they’re scared of him.

How does Volo react to this treatment of you?

(This is also probably a fun prompt to explore with other villains, but you can just stick to Volo if you’d like.)

did some others i thought might be interesting to explore

cw: implied violence, isolation, slight angst

characters: Volo, Cyrus, Colress

💫Volo📜

⭐️ There were similarities between you both that he would begrudgingly admit since the beginning. Perhaps, that was what originally had attracted him to you, aside from the obvious potential of you standing in the way of his plans. The lands of Hisui was isolate and distant, with many groups living among each other with disdain. Outsiders were often brought in with extreme scrutiny and judgement. Especially with a situation as odd as yours. His heart stung in a familiar manner when he saw you sitting alone, rejected by the Galaxy Team and both clans. He knew his intentions were not the purest, but there was a small part of him wishing to give the treatment that he had never received. These similarities would lead to him sharing his ideals. While he would have preferred working alone, you were completely entranced with his promise of a new world without all the sorrow of this one.

⭐️ So he would notice the little things. Judgement was a silent thing, after all. You had been forgiven for everything – another Survey Corps member and that professor carefully explaining your headspace and claiming manipulation. It hurt the blond to see those who so casually cast you aside and judged you harshly take you back in. The harshness towards you would never subside. You attempted to hide it from him, not wanting to spur up his intense feelings, but Volo was more than acquainted with how to go around undetected. He observed everything closely around you. The ways the inhabitants of the village often remarked you with scorn. The Hero of Hisui seemed like an empty title. Rumours of how you had actually aided him clearly spread far and deep. He felt rage at their expressions – something so known and despised by him. The looks he had always experienced in his life.

⭐️ He knew there was little he could do. The blond had gone into hiding after everything, knowing that many would want him dead for what he attempted to do. What he still had the full intentions of finishing. He could only watch and feel his passion reignite with a new vigour. This world… It was far too painful. Not only for him. He needed to find a way to call upon Arceus again. If anyone dared a raise a hand toward you, however, he would definitely intervene. A tall, terrifying blond man would suddenly emerge from some place nearby and restrain them. He will not stand for any true violence towards you. The isolation towards you is nothing new, at least. Everyone had been suspicious of you since your arrival, and now it had only increased. He simply would offer you to fully abandon your life in the Galaxy Team and truly join him. Volo figures that this is the best ending for you both.

🌌Cyrus🛰

☄️ He had been blinded entirely by his grandiose goals. His new world – He had been so close. So close. Yet, it slipped through his fingers. This horrid world around him had one last final attack on him – to deny him even an escape from it. Staying in the Distortion World to rot away for the rest of eternity had been perfectly fine by him, but the thought of you, his beloved, doing the same sickened him. He knew how desperately you supported him – finding the idea of a world without horrible emotion more appealing than this reality. Your support spurred him to work faster, desperate to make a world where you both would finally know peace. Some small part of Cyrus was concerned with what would make you also agree with his vision, but the majority of him was simply relieved that you would not fight him on this and have your full support.

☄️ He would take notice quickly. The way people avoid you – Old friends and acquaintances cutting contact with little hesitation. The loneliness that began to surround you. He had made the decision to go back to the normal world with you, despite the trials and tribulations to certainly follow. The way people in the general public would shoot glares at you – One woman even attacking you and claiming that her brother had been brainwashed by Galactic. He felt those bitter emotions that he wanted nothing more than to completely eradicate. It was far too cruel. He should have been the target of their ire – not you. You clearly were a victim, driven by love for your partner, not thinking straight. That was what that champion had claimed, but it appeared that had not at all become the common sentiment. Many remarked you as a horrible person, ready to force everyone into a situation that none of them wanted. He could only clench his jaw.

☄️ He acts without hesitation. In any situation in which he is around, and you experience scorn, he glares at whoever dared do such a thing until they leave. Anyone who even dares think to enact physical violence towards you will be shown just how surprisingly fit the Galactic Boss is. The idea of someone hurting you in any way is enough to drive him mad, and he cannot forgive himself for his shortcoming there himself. He had wanted you to be uninvolved in his plans for exactly this reason, yet he allowed himself the indulgence of your support. Part of him wants to curl away back in the Distortion World and give up in everything, but the other half feels more driven to protect you. He would take responsibility. It was all he could do. Maybe… Maybe you both could move away from Sinnoh, but where would you go? Cyrus's mind begins to wander. If he was forced to be in this world… Where did he want to be? The two of you would eventually have a long discussion about this.

🥼Colress🛸

🧪 Had you been exactly supporting Team Plasma? Not really. Colress had not been himself, despite being called the leader of it. Part of him was fully aware of Ghetsis using him, but the other half simply did not care, as long as he got to also work on his research unabated. You supported that – So understanding towards his strong interest in bonds and how to bring out the full potential in pokemon. Colress knew he could put up with whatever madness Ghetsis drug him through, so long as he had that. But… Well, he knew that it would become more and more difficult for you to fully support what he was doing. Your upset over the Opelucid City incident, ever present in his mind. But, in the end, you had supported him, and he was still the acting head of Team Plasma.

🧪 Which meant… Even after the remains of Team Plasma had faded out, and he had disbanded the group, you found yourself under the harsh judgement of those around you. Colress paid attention to you closely after it all, worrying about the worst possible scenarios. Friends seemed less inclined to be around you following it, and most acquaintances had completely cut you out – not wishing to be connected with a so-called member of Team Plasma. You had not been. Colress would not have let you, but how much time you had spent at his side had only encouraged the thought. So, you had people yell at you about having their pokemon stolen or the act of terrorism on Opelucid. A few even dared tried to attack you physically, wanting you to hand over pokemon you did not have. It was all quite traumatic. Colress hated every single second of it.

🧪 He refused to let any of it happen in front of him. His work with the International Police following has cleared him from any possible arrests, and you had been determined to almost be entirely uninvolved. Even though that had been announced, it was clear those affected wanted an easy vessel for their anger. Colress much would prefer they target him over you, but he supposed they were just taking anyone they could. He acts to deter anyone with malicious intentions quite often. A cold glare and a hand on one of his pokeballs is usually enough to scare anyone off, but not always. If someone feels inclined towards violence, he shows a surprising amount of strength and catches them. He really will not accept any horrible treatment toward you. A request to work with a certain Alolan organisation could not have come sooner. You two would be out of Unova, and this would all seem like a bad dream.

[talesfromlissom]

TFP!OPTIMUS HEADCANNONS  // Optimus x reader tidbits || Part 2 

WARNINGS -  Infertility/sterilization, some mentions of pregnancy(??) , mentions of genocide 

A/N - I put down Elita-1 just because why not, but you can imagine this as an x reader instead. These are mostly Optimus headcanons. I have another post with headcanons about him before he became a Prime HERE. This also is alot longer than I thought it would be please help.

Elaborating on the previous bullet point about Optimus being the last of the data clerks. In the early stages of the war, the High Council ordered a mass extermination of miners after Megatron’s rise to fame. They blamed Orion for it, which caused Megatron to retaliate and order every data clerk to be killed. He was mostly successful. 

After being anointed the next Prime, Optimus was confused. One of the main reasons he advocated for a peaceful resolution to the caste system problems is that he had seen what the Quintesson War had done. He had seen war at its worst and didn’t want that kind of violence put onto the planet again, hence the reason why he always advocated so strongly for peace. 

After becoming the new Prime, he was isolated from the world. He wasn’t allowed to contact any of his friends unless supervised, but he would often sneak out to see them. He doesn’t remember why and thinks that it was because he was friends with many people who hated the caste system like he did. 

If he wasn’t seeing them, then he was painting. He liked to do giant graffiti art murals the most, hence the reason why he has ‘steady hands’. He’d spend an entire night in some abandoned theater or an empty alleyway. You could probably find one if you looked hard enough during the war. He often left the citadel late at night to do this. . 

After the war, most of his murals were knocked down or destroyed. 

Nighttime seemed the only time he had to himself back then, so he’d stay up late doing whatever he wanted. 

He always claimed to be a Prime of the people, not the government. This was reflected in his actions, as he would often donate large amounts of shanix to charities outside the High Council’s jurisdiction. He increasingly got frustrated by the high council’s lack of concern for their people and their refusal to listen to him. 

The High Council eventually appointed him a Lord High Protector due to his increasingly ‘rebellious’ antics (could be the reader/Elita-1, depending on what suits your fancy, ;] ) 

He despised the Protector, as they felt more like a glorified babysitter than a bodyguard. 

Eventually, the High Council got fed up with Optimus’ refusal to listen to them. At his last ceremony, to be officially inducted into the Primacy, they planned to give him a drink laced with sedatives so he’d be more accessible to shadowplay. 

Optimus’ Lord High Protector found this out, contacted his friends, and helped him escape, which made him trust them more. He then went to find the Matrix of Leadership because Megatron’s war was starting to poison the planet. He could feel it somehow, though he couldn’t explain how or why. He still can’t. 

He enjoys drawing A LOT. Given his size, he obviously can’t do graffiti art on earth, but when he goes on ‘patrols,’ half of it is him going somewhere to draw. However, he doesn’t do creative or fun drawings nowadays. It’s mostly art of the people in his life, nature, etc. So, it's primarily observational art. That datapad and pen are his most prized possessions, and he always carries them in his subspace. No, you cannot see it. 

A MASSIVE touch of the ‘tism. He could talk for hours about ancient history, famous literature, or anything like that. He visibly gets more expressive when talking about these things, too (actually canon lmao). He enjoys learning about mythology from other cultures as well. 

He hates group settings and despises oil. He most likely suffers from high empathy, but he tries to be empathetic towards people or animals only to mask this. 

More on the high-functioning side of the spectrum.

He’s very aware of life and deeply existential. He always wonders how life came to be and related matters. He asks many questions and thinks of new ones every day. Hence, Agent Fowler and he are so close. He got stuck in a storage house with him once and asked so many questions about human life/purpose that Fowler aged 50 years. 

His interest in history was easily hidden as just a plain interest in it. He was a data clerk, specifically a data clerk in the history-keeping field, so it’d make sense he’d know a lot about history. Not only that, but he’s also a Prime, so he has to know about the history of his own planet/people exceptionally well. It’s a good thing he already did before the primacy. 

He tends to focus too much on things, almost becoming obsessive, for example, trying to repair his relationship with Megatron, nearly bordering on obsession with doing that very thing. There are times when he will be working at the console and he’ll be so wrapped up in his work that he’ll forget to eat, sleep, take a break, and do things like that. 

He spaces out a lot more than people realize. He’s pretty good at making it look like he’s listening, but he does listen(partially), just not as much as people think he does. People think he’s quiet due to this (which he kind of is but yeah)

His audio finals move a lot, and he used them to stim. The only issue is that due to the energon shortages, many people had to shut down certain parts of their frame, and his fins ended up being one of them. He resolves this by tapping his fingers on his knees instead or letting his smokestacks shake, but this makes people think he’s angry, which confuses him because he’s not. This is probably due to the MASSIVE RBF he has. 

Speaking of brain stuff, he also suffers from C-PTSD. If we’re going by the lore found in The Covenant of Primus, Optimus has been involved in two civil wars—one as a soldier and the other as a leader. Regardless, both of these wars are terrifying. I’d imagine that’s why he seemed to handle the war much better than others—he’s used to it. It doesn’t change the fact that he hated experiencing both of them. 

He has most definitely stumbled upon sparklings once or twice. He usually contacts a neutral colony planet or ship to take them and does so quickly. He’s gotten attached to every sparkling or youngling he comes across, barely able to prevent any sire/carrier protocols from activating. And when I say attached, I mean EXTREMELY attached. You need a parental figure? Congratulations! He’s adopted you. No, you cannot go home; let’s decorate your bedroom together 😀

Speaking of children, he wants his own, but the Matrix is annoying. Most Transformers constantly drift to being hyper-fertile or sterile (I headcanon that the Allspark is primarily responsible for this, but I will probably go into that later. I have a whole process and everything), and Optimus is no exception. 

However, the Matrix takes a lot of power from his frame, including his processor and other parts. It's very taxing. It’s rendered him completely sterile, no matter how potent the Allspark is. This is a sore spot for him, and due to how long the Matrix was in his frame, these effects have remained even after he was resurrected without it. Only Ratchet/Elita-1(or you) know this. 

Jack, Miko, Raf, Bumble Bee, and Smokescreen are all registered under the sparkling category. Those are his kids; don’t touch them. 

WORD COUNT - 1239

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[schizoid-hikikomori]

Something I don't see people talking about often when it comes to schizoid pd is that idea of relatability.

I don't think I've been able to truly relate to anyone in my life. I believe part of that may come from my observations of behavior from my older sisters and older cousins and being able to learn what not to do or how not to behave.

Many people form bonds over being upset with their parents, as a very early example. Because I didn't have violent emotional outbursts like I would observe my sister to have, I wasn't punished in the same way, I didn't harbor the same frustration that other people might experience with their parents, and again, I never got to experience those dramatic emotions.

So when you start off early in life diverging from expected behavior, it doesn't set you up well. Not to mention the fact I went to a school of mostly white students as a nonwhite and multiracial/multiethnic student. White kids in this small school had established social groups they wouldn't diverge from, they looked at me differently and talked to me differently than they would their friends, and had a very distinct non-interest in interacting with me. (And the typical tropes of white girls being jealous of my hair).

Of course I had friends, but consistently it was only one or two I would be seeing outside of school, while my sisters and cousins had larger friend groups with more things going on.

I developed depression in middle school and at this point I think my more identifiable schizoid traits became more pronounced here. I was never all that happy as a child, but this is where it became very clear to outsiders that I wasn't doing well if they were paying attention.

At this time the rift between myself and others grew even larger. Kids would be hormonal, getting into relationships, smoking cigarettes and weed, drinking alcohol, and starting drama just for the hell of it. Those things people described as high school activities started in middle school.

In high school I got this feeling I was falling behind. I never experienced things other people experienced by the time they were in high school. I just wanted to drop out completely and move on. (I didn't, of course. My mother would never have allowed it.)

It became a phenomenon where when I was talking to someone new that I would get annoyed or frustrated when they tried to relate to me. I would tell them something that seems simple about me, and they would make an attempt to relate.

The issue is, they experience that specific thing for a different reason than I do. You think you get it but you really don't.

As an obvious example, people group withdrawn and solitary individuals into groups and labels but fail to recognize the reason someone might be withdrawn.

Similarly, someone might claim to despise people as I do, but still make an effort to seek out new friends and attend social events, which tells me no, you're not anything like me. Stop pretending to be.

This same phenomenon of people trying to seek relatability wherever they might find it also leads to the impulsive self diagnosis thing. People see a basic list of DSM symptoms (which are very surface level) and start imagining they have a disorder, ignoring the reasons behind those symptoms.

It's to the point where they even have to advise psychology students studying abnormal psychology to be aware of this and to avoid it.

I've seen people with other disorders able to bond over their shared experiences and provide one another with support, creating a sense of community, but there's something about schizoid pd that completely prevents me from being able to do that.

Early on, there were so many factors that prevented me from being able to properly connect with people in my family, and furthermore with classmates, which evolved into this full barrier between myself and everyone else.

I don't try to relate to anyone anymore, and it's irritating when people try to relate to me when I know they won't ever be able to fully understand.

Photo from a few weeks ago.

[officerwhitmore]

Come Close

Monday hit Vincent like a bullet in the back. He intentionally woke up earlier than usual, slipping out of the bed as quietly as he could so Stella wouldn’t stir awake. It was always dark out by the time he woke up for work, the sun still lingering just behind the horizon as the moon began to slowly fade, but today, he’d woken up so early that the sun wasn’t even a suggestion, the world outside their home still black as pitch. In the quiet, he entered the closet and packed a small duffel bag with an outfit that was among the best he had, short of his formal suit. In the privacy of his home, he wore graphic tees and sweatpants, but in public, he forced himself to project a more professional image, even when he wasn’t wearing his uniform. Simple stuff, but classy enough. Loose slacks with or without pleats paired with a button-down shirt just a size too large, so it draped across his torso and created a nice billowy silhouette when he tucked them halfway in. First two buttons undone, maybe an undershirt depending on the weather, and no belt because it always took the look from ‘classy vintage casual’ to ‘someone’s grandpa’ in an instant.

The outfit he’d decided upon was simple enough: loose white slacks, laceless brown dress shoes, and a light blue button-down to top it all off. Zipping the duffel bag shut, he tried not to think about the reason he’d chosen that shirt over any of the other colors, but the memory burrowed its way into his head in spite of his attempts not to recall it. Way back when, on their sixth anniversary, Stella had told him it brought out the blue in his eyes. Though he’d made a great effort to bury his guilt, it still disgusted him how badly he wanted Tony to tell him the same,

It still didn’t stop him. He clipped his nails, trimmed his body hair, and shaved his face clean, meticulously preparing himself to be seen and touched. And as he snuck into the garage and hid the duffel inside the SUV's spare wheel compartment — a trick he’d learned from people who were better than average at hiding drugs — he ruminated on how he’d resort to anything to feel desirable again. Even infidelity.

And to think he ever believed he’d turn out different than his father.

As soon as his shift ended — he’d made sure to be back at the station at exactly 2:00 PM — he showered in the locker room and slipped into the outfit he’d packed into the duffel, briefly examining himself in the full-length mirror. He looked younger without the beard and taller in the dress shoes, the high slacks and tucked loose button-down creating a silhouette that even he couldn’t deny looked appealing. That observation came to him by surprise — he couldn’t recall the last time anyone had called him handsome and he’d believed it.

He’d stopped believing in Jesus when he was no older than June, but the fact that he managed to leave the department unseen truly did make him wonder whether there really was a sky daddy.

Placing his duffle in the passenger’s seat, he took off in his SUV, heading straight for a grocery store that was on the way to Tony’s apartment. It wasn’t high-falutin or anything, but it wasn’t exactly a Walmart, either. Ripe, organic vegetables, high-quality meats — the kind of quality a man like Tony would appreciate in his food. Tony’s list was longer than he’d been expecting, but Vince was already learning not to question his culinary genius. Case in point: he actually despised jalapenos, but for Tony, he was willing to give them another shot. Worst case, he’d ask him to put them on the side, something which he halfway feared would get him a look of either disapproval or disbelief. 

Highly aware of the time, Vincent stocked up his cart with all the speed of a chipmunk gearing up for hibernation. He wasn’t particularly skilled at choosing which vegetable seemed ripest, but he knew well enough to steer clear of the ones with bruises and mysterious scars that suspiciously resembled bite marks left by tiny little teeth. He tried not to think too hard about those.

He was halfway through the chip aisle when something on the opposite shelf caught his attention from the corner of his eye: a six pack of root beer in fine glass bottles, the liquid inside as dark as pitch. Root beer had always been his favorite type of pop, but over the years, he’d noticed how all the best brands had changed their recipes from cane sugar to high fructose corn syrup, which was a major disappointment. Picking it up and turning it over, Vince deduced from the labels that this root beer was the real deal — cane sugar and dark licorice, the shit that burned on the way down in all the right ways. The only thing that would make it even better was some nice, rich French vanilla ice cream piled to the top of a glass, bubbling brown fizz as the root beer drowned it. 

What was it he’d told Tony, standing at his car window and shining his flashlight right into his eyes? ‘Could be drinking root beer floats instead of you driving twenty over the speed limit and me being the one who had to catch you,’ Vince grinned to himself, putting the root beer in the cart. It wasn’t a guarantee that Tony would remember it, but it was worth a shot. Not to mention, Vincent <em>really<em> fucking wanted a root beer float. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to taste on Tony’s lips. 

The last thing he shoved in the cart was a gallon of the best-looking French vanilla ice cream he could find, and when he made it to the checkout lane, the total was so egregious, he simply swiped his card and pretended he didn’t see it. To his immense relief, the payment went through. It was a $100 Visa gift card he’d won from a raffle at the station, and when he found it at the bottom of the kitchen drawer of expired credit cards and random shit, he’d had no idea whether it’d been used or not. A godsend. Maybe Jesus really was real.

Vincent breathed a soft laugh through his nose as he carried the bags to his SUV, his gut a flutter of conflicting emotions. It was almost funny to think that if god was real, he’d be helping a man cheat. Vincent convinced himself to laugh about it because the alternative was dwelling on the reality of what he was doing. The reality of what he would never be able to take back.

It wasn’t until he pulled his SUV into the Driftwood Cove apartment complex, squeezing it into a tiny space between two large, beaten-up trucks, that it really set in. The doubt. The fear. The terror. He was about to become a cheater. Clearing his throat once, loud and hard enough to hurt, he unlatched his seatbelt, swung open the door, and — stopped. There, on his ring finger, was the bright silver band he’d been given thirteen years ago. It had scratches, smudges. It was well-loved. And when Stella had placed it onto his finger, brown eyes smiling right up at him, she’d brought his hand to her lips and kissed it. Kissed him. She’d tasted like Anastasia lipstick and strawberry chardonnay and… forever. An entire lifetime.

He wiped his eyes with his sleeve, soaking up the tears before they could slip down his face. That girl… that sweet, funny girl with the silly laugh and the perfect eyes who’d told him she loved him every night… Vincent still loved her. Desperately.

But that Stella had been gone for a long, long time. 

Slipping his ring off of his finger, slow and gentle, he looked at the deep red divot it left behind and reminded himself, quite painfully, that the fact that she was gone didn’t mean he wasn’t betraying her. 

He placed the ring in the cupholder and pulled a hand over his face, breathing in the cool, crisp air of a dawning autumn. Then he exited the car, grabbed the groceries from the trunk, and turned around to find the building of the man he’d chosen to betray her with. He was halfway to the staircase once he remembered, and he sighed as he returned to the car to retrieve it. The duffel with his boots and uniform. He’d need to change back into it after he and Tony fucked. Hide the evidence of the sin he’d committed. After all, he had a wife to fool.

By the time he made it to Tony’s door, the guilt had found itself a lovely companion: agonizing anxiety. It made Vincent’s heart thud hard, fast, ceaseless, his stomach so tight he was almost nauseous. He shook himself out as well as he could with the bags in his hands, forcing himself to close his eyes and count his long, heaving breaths. 

This was it. 

Here it was. 

Fucking do it.

Forcing out one hard, heavy breath, Vincent transferred all of the bags to one hand — a valiant task — raised his fist, and knocked on Tony’s door. Shave-and-a-haircut, two bits. Partially a habit and partially an attempt at humor to shove down the flurry of guilt and terror and dark, heavy want pulsing through him like thunder. 

It felt like ages before the door eased open, the light wood squeaking on rusted hinges with peeling black paint. Vincent froze. Tony was so much taller than he’d remembered, the hard lines of his jaw cut sharp by shadow and the apartment’s thin yellow light. All at once, Vincent returned to himself like a spirit to a body, relaxing his shoulders, tilting his head, and giving the man his most glittering grin — the one that had made his face crawl with faint pink. 

“What's up, man?" Vincent said, and raised a dark brow, grin slowly turning mischievous. "You ready for some fuckin' nachos?"

@tex-mex-tony

[dailydemonspotlight]

Yamawaro - Day 154

Race: Brute Alignment: Neutral-Chaos February 12th, 2025

For such a prominent series of figures in Japanese mythology, one would expect Kappas to appear more often in SMT. Of course, the series is predominantly Japanese, with a large amount of the demons belonging either to Japanese or Abrahamic mythologies, but many of the demons throughout the series are that Yokai are far more obscure or archaic. This, of course, can be observed in many demons based on Yokai that have barely crossed overseas, such as Amabie or Ippon-Datara, ironically leaving the yokai that typically see the light of day outside of the spotlight. However, there is one glorious exception to this rule- a specific kind of kappa that has appeared as a demon in the series, even if its overall species has not. That Kappa, of course, is today's Demon of the Day- Yamawaro.

Yamawaro are sometimes seen as a subspecies of Kappa, and while their relation is slightly disputed, they're still generally agreed upon to be connected to Kappa. What makes them different from Kappas is in the fact that they predominantly reside in mountain ranges, as their name literally translates to 'Mountain Child,' and this name can also be seen in some other denominations of Yamawaro, which each have similar but different meanings like 'Yaman ojiyan,' meaning 'Mountain Uncle.' (I can't read Japanese so, as always, take this with a mountain of salt- I'm going off of wikipedia sources for this.) My personal favorite alternate name of the Yamawaro is 'yamawarawa,' which is just fun to say, but that's beside the already off-track point.

So, what's the deal with the mountain child? The Yamawaro are similar in many ways to Kappa, as they seem to have a similarly childlike temperament. Another kappa-like attribute of these pranksters is in their appearance, being that of squat humanoid beings with superficial similarities to kappas, such as how the brown hair that covers their body crowns around the top of their head* for a similar effect to a kappa's dish.

*I can't really find much about this or where the original depiction of this comes from? A lot of old and traditional Yamawaro artwork depict the Yamawaro as just having an equally ugly bowl-cut. The earliest source I can find for this specific depiction is from the works of one Toriyama Sekien that seems to date back to the Edo period, but I can't find much about the work referenced and I'm unsure as to if it could be a forgery or not. You can never be too cautious in this space.

However, this is where these similarities end- they're similar to Kappa in terms of behavior, but they're far from actively malicious, just mischievous. Yamawaro have a major defining trait in that they have a single eye in the middle of their head, and are covered in greasy brown hair. Yet more Kappa-adjacent similarities come into view, though, with how they love sumo wrestling and absolutely despise horses. As they live up in the mountains of Japan, one may encounter a Yamawaro if they live up there alone, leading to you possibly even being able to recruit their help. If you offer them food in return for their services, they'll work to the best of the quality of the food, meaning that they're doing labor in return for the... quality of the reward. Marx would've loved these guys.

Still, if you offer them food upfront, they'll run away with it, so don't do that. Yamawaro will happily help out if you thank them for it, give them a reward equal to the value of their labor, and they may even return to help further, showing how actively helpful they can be, especially in comparison to the chakra-stealing anus-ripping kappas. As for their depiction in SMT, it's rock-solid given what I know about most of their contemporary depictions, albeit with the greasy brown hair being replaced with moss. Not much to comment on, outside of the fact that maybe they just put Yamawaros in SMT over Kappas because they had good work ethic.

[astrology-with-charu]

𝐆𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐢 𝐅𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐌𝐨𝐨𝐧 𝟒º𝟓𝟏’ (𝟐𝟕 𝐍𝐨𝐯 - 𝟏𝟐 𝐃𝐞𝐜)

Gemini full moon at degree of “desire to reach beyond established forms” inflicted by Mars Saturn square is like driving a race car with breaks on. It’s frustrating & we resent the caution as we itch to move fast.

It doesn’t help that ruler of this full moon - Mercury is in a turkey stupor with a confused mind, low immunity & possibly a flu or stewing in self inflicted mental inferiority torture chamber. Neptune while helping us blur the boundaries so we can color outside the lines - is also making us procrastinate in vulnerability.

Gemini full moon aren’t known for explosions of emotional anger or repressed feelings - May be verbal diarrhoea to be entertaining but not compulsively contrarian. We seem to be compulsively contrarians right now & it’s not funny or entertaining or well contained!

Reminds me of slime - not the dirty kind, the play kind. It has no purpose but to probably let one know some things can exist outside a defined container. Looks yucky to observer but entertaining to owner

We explode into formlessness…

Playful slime as it tries to reflect a child’s brain evolution is surely reprimanded shortly by Saturn as it despises the glitter on the wooden floors which would probably never get out & makes once formally set house look like a semi playground of a creator with no clue of end result

“Rules control the Fun!” Saturn is the apex of this T-Squared full moon.

A t-squared full moon comes with conflicting choices - normally we duck to make the choice but Saturn leaves no room to duck out.

To avoid making this choice we could color our hair & join the revolution blowing up whole world into a goo of our colorful slime or repress telling anyone what we intend to do & withdraw totally where no one can question our playful slime.

Saturn would like us to get hold of this bipolar full moon & make it hunker down to have some good old slime making rules. No hardwood no upholstery for example (true story!) Yet some formally allocated time to color outside the lines & a tangible outcome ?

We would retrace these steps again as these are not final decisions as Mercury will walk these degrees again as it goes retrograde on 13 Dec. Rethinking, deciding again, making rules, resenting the boundaries, being compulsively contrarian again as Neptune makes the year end fog thicker as it dawns on us by going direct on 6th & strongly debilitating our ability to act & think decisively. Health and immunity also become a key topic.

Expect less of you, expect less of the moment, expect less of playtime as slime is not the outcome its the process.

It’s there to stimulate the senses we would normally suppress or ignore. It’s calming, it’s grounding, its formlessness surprisingly brings us back in current moment instead of future anxiety. It’s teaching us how some unlikely ingredients can come together to make a new thing that didn’t exist before.

Gemini slime is never made alone.

Social elements as much as conflicting, as messy, as seemingly a time waste or frivolous can come together & stimulate a part of us that we ignore or suppress making us alive to current moment. Just because you cannot name your madness, doesnt mean you have to live it alone. The thing you might judge in you - might be inspiring to another as you try to color outside the boundaries of sanity. And to those it doesn’t they would help create the friction which would help yield usefulness out of this process of self discovery…

Either ways there is no need to hide your colorfully frustrating formlessness as everyone is dying to experience something original. The something original you are probably calling your madness…

Much ❤️

#astrology #horoscope #fullmoon #geminimoon

[noeticprayer]

Hierotheus, Bishop of Athens

Reading from the Synaxarion:

According to some, Hierotheus, like Saint Dionysius, was a member of the court of Mars Hill. Having first been instructed in the Faith of Christ by Paul, he became Bishop of Athens. He, in turn, initiated the divine Dionysius more perfectly into the mysteries of Christ; the latter, on his part, elaborated more clearly and distinctly Hierotheus' concise and summary teachings concerning the Faith. He too was brought miraculously by the power of the Holy Spirit to be present at the Dormition of the Theotokos, when, together with the sacred Apostles, he became a leader of the divine hymnody. "He was wholly transported, wholly outside himself and was so deeply absorbed in communion with the sacred things he celebrated in hymnology, that to all who heard him and saw him and knew him, and yet knew him not, he seemed to be inspired of God, a divine hymnographer," as Dionysius says (On the Divine Names, 3:2). Having lived in a manner pleasing to God, he reposed in the Lord.

Apoly tikion of Hierotheus, Bp. of Athens in the Fourth Tone

Since thou hadst been instructed in uprightness thoroughly and wast vigilant in all things, thou wast clothed with a good conscience as befitteth one holy. Thou didst draw from the Chosen Vessel ineffable mysteries; and having kept the Faith, thou didst finish a like course, O Hieromartyr Hierotheus. Intercede with Christ God that our souls be saved.

Kontakion of Hierotheus, Bp. of Athens in the Plagal of the Fourth Tone

As Athens' Hierarch, we acclaim thee, since through thee we have received instruction in things awesome and ineffable; for thou wast a God-inspired writer of divine hymns. O Hierotheus all-blessed, do thou pray to God, so that we may be redeemed from all calamities, that thus we may cry: Rejoice, O Father wise in things divine.

Epistle Reading

The Reading is from St. Paul's Letter to the Galatians 4:8-21

Brethren, formerly, when you did not know God, you were in bondage to beings that by nature are no gods; but now that you have come to know God, or rather to be known by God, how can you turn back again to the weak and beggarly elemental spirits, whose slaves you want to be once more? You observe days, and months, and seasons, and years! I am afraid I have labored over you in vain. Brethren, I beseech you, become as I am, for I also have become as you are. You did me no wrong; you know it was because of a bodily ailment that I preached the gospel to you at first; and though my condition was a trial to you, you did not scorn or despise me, but received me as an angel of God, as Christ Jesus. What has become of the satisfaction you felt? For I bear you witness that, if possible, you would have plucked out your eyes and given them to me. Have I then become your enemy by telling you the truth? They make much of you, but for no good purpose; they want to shut you out, that you may make much of them, and not only when I am present with you. My little children, with whom I am again in travail until Christ be formed in you! I could wish to be present with you now and to change my tone, for I am perplexed about you. Tell me, you who desire to be under law, do you not hear the law?

Gospel Reading

The Reading is from the Gospel According to Luke 7:31-35

The Lord said, "To what shall I compare the men of this generation, and what are they like? They are like children sitting in the market place and calling to one another, 'We piped to you, and you did not dance; we wailed, and you did not weep.' For John the Baptist has come eating no bread and drinking no wine; and you say, 'He has a demon.' The Son of man has come eating and drinking; and you say, 'Behold, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!' Yet wisdom is justified by all her children."

[syrinq]

thanks to the mere fact i wanted to find a name for my FTL technology in my ocverse, i got sucked into a rabbit hole about quantum mechanics, relativity theory and whatever else related, and i FINALLY figured out why i despise this stuff

another list because i love making lists. long list + confusing shit ahead. yippee!

besides it making sense, albeit barely outside relevant context:

1) these theories usually fully rely on a base framework, such as newton's and einstein's work. while these have worked so far to describe & understand the universe, existence itself, etc., this is only for us as humans. for example, ''light'' can only be translated as a ''simultaneous wave and particle'' following these fundamental frameworks. because if one were to describe light as something else, ''the fundamental theories would all fall apart''.

so? bitches already make different frameworks for different scales to 'adapt'. just because light can only be translated as a particle and wave to your understanding, doesn't make it actually a particle and a wave.

2) folks seem to forget that these frameworks possibly aren't the actual rules of reality. while above example, light can only be seen as such in the frameworks, the truth of what it really is, can be something we cannot perceive or understand. the fact frameworks have to be adapted to fit with scale or other ''reality inconsistencies'', is mere proof that set rules are artificial. there's always an exception to a consistency. always. from grammar in your language, to the leap year every 4 years, to the precise ratio of spirals in nautilus and galaxies, to whatever happens in quantum mechanics. the problem is that all these inconsistent phenomenons, are slammed into frameworks such as maths, that only have room for consistency and laws.

yes, travelling at or higher than the speed of light, would make your surroundings 'stand still' as if you froze time. as if. because the only source you can possibly receive information from, in those thought experiments, is from light. and when you go faster than that source, it will likely stand still or disappear. yet somehow this is transformed in the idea that time actually, legitimately, moves slower in that context. which one cannot possibly know. because it's outside our perception.

3) frameworks can aid one's understanding of everything. but to explain everything with one's own ideas is utterly self-absorbed. it also limits one's understanding, because you're tied to describing everything with these frameworks. if there's an inconsistency in the framework, it must be an inconsistency in reality too. if one cannot observe or perceive it, it's only theoretical. why else are there ideas floating around of shit like ''dark energy'' and "gravity particles" and "the visible universe''?

4) i'm going to pull a ''relativity'' prank. those thought experiments when travelling at light speed, causes time to slow down = time dilation and whatever? dumb.

5) somehow, when something travels at/faster than light, we think, yes, time does stop. like actually. only because it's observed as such. how do you have any sense of time actually stopping? there's a difference in time still passing, versus the time measured for information. one second ''by counting it'' in a satellite, would still be the same second ''by counting it'' on earth. as long as you do the counting in your head, and you do it at the exact same interval. time measured on artificial clocks would be different. time is regarded as an axis in spacetime, something that can be toyed with. but are you toying with how it's measured, or also how it actually passes?

when we look at a stupid distant galaxy, we see it as it was in the past, because the light that is presently radiating out of there, has yet to travel the light years to reach our vision. is the galaxy because of this in the past? in our observations, yes. in the actual galaxy, no.

time, as a passage, is a phenomenon. yet this phenomenon is regarded as something that can be measured in the physical world, with artificial devices and artificial numeric systems. other animals, like dogs, have a perception of time, and we don't know exactly how that works. if it weren't for natural cycles such as the earth's orbit around the sun, you wouldn't be able to tell how much time has passed by simply waiting. and yet, natural cycles aren't constant. they'll change little by little as more time passes. due to decay. due to space expansion. etcetera. fucking hell, even the speed at which earth rotates, is an average. the earth has spun its own axis in ''record speed'' (measured by our units) in june 2022.

6) the joke of relativity is, your truth from observations, depends on the context you're in. what you observe, is truth to you in your context. but that doesn't mean it's actually happening. if you're driving in a car, your truth is that the environment is moving 30 km/h outside your car. from someone standing in the street, their truth is that you move at 30 km/h and their environment stands still. it's an observant truth. it's biased.

yet, there's this thing called time dilation, that's built on a theoretical framework of spacetime, which is built on theoretical physics and so on and so forth. but, despite this pyramid scheme of theories, it must really mean that time in passing is altered, and not only time in measurement. jesus fucking christ, do you bitches in STEM hear yourselves?

7) "bUT MUH SATELLITE CLOCKS MOVING AT DIFFERENT RATES THAN THE GPS ONES ON EARTH.."

what is the actual truth? the earth spins at a wholly-fucking-something per second around itself. the earth spins around another thing. and that thing, the sun, spins as a solar system around a galaxy. and that galaxy spins around something else, and so on and so forth. the only way to find the actual truth, is through an observer untainted by the context. but that doesn't exist. unless you're religious or agnostic, probably. yet, observant truths are taken as the actual truth, which isn't the case. observant truths only work for us, on our scale, in our context.

the fact we have to rely on our own artificially-created inventions, such as a clock, to measure time makes this observation flawed. the entire car example above? also flawed. you're not actually moving at 30 km/h in that car you dipshit.

so, why is it, that thought experiments such as 'travelling at the speed of light in vacuum', still play per the rules of artificial frameworks and observations that are biased? why is it taken as actual truth, when artificial objects have a different observation/reading in a different context? it seems time stops when moving at or higher than the speed of light. but does it really? when you're standing still on earth, are you really?

8) the observation that nothing surpasses the speed of light, aka the speed limit of the universe, is also flawed. light cannot escape a black hole. have you perhaps considered that gravity can be considered something akin to speed instead of a force?

the more mass something has, the more gravity it has, but the more limited it is in speed. black holes have seemingly no limit on mass, which allows infinite potential for a gravity pull. have you perhaps considered, the heavier the mass, the more ''speed'' or ''force'' it takes from its surroundings? the heavier the mass, the more ''inwards'' speed it has?

the less mass something has, the less gravity it has, but the more unlimited it is in speed. light and other 'things that are observed as massless'. have you perhaps considered, the lighter the mass, the more ''speed'' or ''force'' it gives to its surroundings? the lighter the mass, the more ''outwards'' speed it has?

why is our classification of phenomenons like gravity, speed, velocity, radioactivity, etcetera classified as wholly different things of existence, with set rules for how they actually work from our biased observations?

9) nothing can surpass the speed of light. yet the universe, according to observations, is stretching itself by a constant rate of acceleration. this rate isn't even agreed on universally. either way, by stretching it creates ''new space'' in-between things such as galaxies. at least, that's how it's explained, so it doesn't fuck with the frameworks of physics = the observation that anything but ''mass shit'' can move at the speed of light.

10) have we perhaps considered that we, as humans, cannot perceive anything higher than the speed of light/causalty, let alone build something artificial to detect it, because it'll taint the results? such as detectors tainting particles in quantum mechanics? such as binocular vision merging two images into one, so 3D shit pops up to the eye? such as magenta only existing artificially to us, because it's a result of colour mixing rather than actually observed? imagine if mantis shrimp, with more receptors for base colours, had colour mixing. just imagine. humans only have three receptors. that's mental.

eventually, this stretching could be faster than the speed of light. the more space is between 2 objects, the faster it creates even more space. yet for some reason, it's seen as truth that it then doesn't exist. because everything else, that can go at light speed and lower, isn't there yet. so it doesn't exist. so there's an ''observable universe'' that is ''physically limited thanks to the speed of light''.

there's a wavelength for colour/light that we can perceive with the eye. anything past that, is ''filled in by your brain to make sense" or invisible, aka unperceivable.

11) this train of thought brings more issues and essentially collapses the entire framework- on the suggestion that the observant truth for humans, isn't the actual truth. however, our observant truth, is luckily enough for us to get by on this goddamn planet. so it's whatever.

there's a range for what we can perceive with our senses. sight, taste, touch, hearing, smell. there's proof that things outside of those ranges exist, for example, high sound frequencies for dogs. yet, if it isn't perceived by us or anything on earth, why is it said to not exist at all? instead of this ''light speed'' being the limit of how fast things can actually move in the universe, it could instead be the limit of what we can perceive?

it's a paradox of some sorts, because the truth for an observer is linked to their context. each observer has their own truth, but their truth is not the truth to another observer. there's an infinite pool of truths from an infinite pool of observers & contexts, yet none of these truths are the actual truth. some observant truths could come close to the actual truth, but because of the relative link between an observer and the context, the truth is tainted.

the fact particles have to be translated into something like a wave function, so we can understand it better, doesn't mean the untranslated parts don't exist. the lamest analogy i can compare, is 'inside jokes' and particular nuance lost when translating languages for your stupid modern movies. it's lost to you, but it still exists.

so yeah i'm going to cause you existential crisis and blah blah blah. what you perceive isn't always real, and what you don't perceive isn't always unreal. what you perceive can aid something, and that something is your own context and your own understanding. but it won't solve everything in the universe. regardless of that, we gucci on this bitch of an earth. dipshits.

in the vein of "life is fair by being unfair to everyone", i now adapt that to "everything is consistent by being inconsistent". fuck you.

anyway. at the end of the day, i can tell you that my FTL-tech in my ocverse has been called togna (technology, warp, tunnel). since it's based on wormholes. and togna, coming from "chaetognatha", is informally known as "arrow worms". also chaetognatha aren't remotely related to shit like earthworms, so they're ''worm-like''. not exactly like a worm(hole), but resemblant. just like my FTL-travel. i have won at wordplay :)

[fumiko-matsubara]

Describing Chiba's personality like he's a main character on a well-written wikia page

Because way too many people mischaracterized him for my liking and enough is ENOUGH!

Note: I am ignoring the anime adaptation because the changes they made completely ruined Chiba's character.

Chiba generally appears to be a calm and serious boy whose maturity and professionalism for his age was always noted by others during missions. He always gets the job done with little to no complaints, simply allowing his results to speak for his high skills. Along with his fellow sniper Hayami, Chiba tends to be compared to a working adult.

But outside of assassination, Chiba is surprisingly fairly social and bubbly, often seen wearing a wide smile on his face and is rarely alone. He seems to enjoy the company of others and is always present whenever his classmates gather to do an activity together. Because no one can see his expression with the way his hair covers his eyes, Chiba becomes frequently misunderstood by strangers, but his close classmates described him to be a very gentle and soft-hearted person.

Chiba is very tolerant and tends to be a little bit of a people pleaser, always putting other people’s feelings over his own even at the risk of possibly wearing himself out. The reason why he hides his eyes is to accommodate his peers when he was younger since his intense gaze made him appear to be always on guard. Similarly, he dislikes letting others down. It’s why he never complains when his classmates began putting their faith in his skills when he was assigned the most important role in the Island Assassination attempt. He fears that letting his concerns be known before the attempt was made might shake his classmates’ confidence and he doesn’t want that. Hence, he swallowed his feelings and continued on with the job. Later, Chiba outwardly admits that he felt so pressured by the amount of faith his classmates had in him that it inevitably affected his usually near-perfect performance. 

Chiba is notably keen on logic and prefers to only rely on solid facts when taking in information. He is a realist who lives in the present, using his five senses to quietly observe the world around him, thus noticing details that most people tend to miss. After the announcement of their final exam results when he noticed the dejected Karma despite the nonchalant front, he knew exactly what to do to cheer him up. Another example was when he decided to check on Kurahashi who was feeling down after Takaoka began taking over their PE classes, aware of her interest towards Karasuma.

His spatial awareness was what makes his sniping accuracy be of high level, easily being able to determine the distance between point A and point B while taking account of outside factors such as wind direction and trajectory of the bullet. In the Korosuu novel, he even shows his disinterest towards Hayami’s suggestion of using his “intuition” to shoot because it clashes with his extremely calculated sniping method.

Although he never brags about it, Chiba is rightfully proud of his skills and despises it when his abilities gets undermined and ridiculed to the point that he becomes very petty about it. When the Legendary Sniper called him a hindrance after giving him a warning shot in chapter 5 of the Korosuu novel, Chiba meticulously instructed Hayami to shoot back at the sniper out of pure spite.

His learned tendency to swallow his concerns when in the middle of a job makes other people mistake him for someone who always hides what he feels. But the surprising truth is that Chiba finds it easy to be completely transparent about his feelings, especially with how self-aware he actually was. Right after the Island assassination attempt was deemed a failure, Chiba wasted no time asking Ritsu to confirm what he had observed during the assassination attempt. He did not hesitate to express the pride and confidence he always has in his skills from how extremely well he typically does in rehearsals and practice sessions, as well as the growing pressure he felt from not wanting to let others down finally dawning on him the second he was about to pull the trigger.

By the time he returned to the hotel, Chiba was able to navigate through his feelings and let them out in the open for Ritsu and the others nearby to hear. Throughout the entire infiltration, Chiba did not once think back to his prior failure, more concerned with what is currently happening around him, like Korosensei entrusting him and Hayami to use real guns, which he finds to be an absurd thing for a teacher to do. Chiba’s method of instantly facing his feelings after the concerned matter is done with is what allows him to move forward without regrets.

Ever since the pep talk Korosensei gave to them, Chiba slowly began to voice out his concerns and share the details he had observed more often. It later turns out that he deeply respects Hazama because the ease she has to string her words together outloud with hardly any care about what others may think was something he couldn't replicate himself.

In Korotan B, Chiba noticed the direction of the conversation he and Puey were having and thus tried his luck to ask about the boy’s backstory while he was still being talkative. When the class became divided in whether they wanted to continue the assassination or not after learning the truth about Korosensei, Chiba volunteered to be the first to pick his side with no hesitation, which was the Kill Team. He expressed that he had long decided on what he wanted to do and will go through with it.

A rather hidden side of him was that he is an adrenaline junkie who gets very excited at the notion of doing something fear-inducing and borderline dangerous, like going to space or riding intense amusement park rides. He has a liking towards intense things in general, given his love for hardcore punk and metal bands.

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Chiba Ryuunosuke Masterlist

Differentiating Chiba and Hayami's sniping methods using MBTI

This panel of Chiba and Nakamura I found interesting

[sukirichi]

black magic [02]

request. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife) + sukuna’s first time with his wife

cw. slight angst, insecurities, lots of making out, virginity loss, fingering, oral (f receiving), multiple orgasm, sukuna worships reader, spitting, cum eating, teasing! sukuna, face-off kamasutra position, soft dom! sukuna, unedited fic, pwp

song inspo. leave the door open (bruno mars)

note. i want a husband sukuna 

part one | part two

Sukuna gently takes your palm into his, soft and warm lips meeting your bruised knuckles that have seen years of hard work in exorcising curses like him. Uncanny that he showed so much affection to his enemy by nature, treating you with such care and tenderness that shouldn’t have been so possible for an evil creature like him. You’re supposed to love it, be grateful for it, yet his sweet gestures only irritate you, even more so when he retires to bed just like that without even so much sparing a glance your way.

You’ve been married for a year now that you’ve had enough of his confusing gestures towards you. One moment, he was showering you with love, regarding you like you were the light of his life before he’s walking away the next moment and pretending you don’t exist.

He was so infuriating. He would kiss you and hold you, but never touch you or be in the same room with you any longer than an hour. Even in bed, he’s always making sure his back is turned to you, peeling your arms off of him each time you attempt to cuddle him on times it got too cold. It hurts and dwells dangerously at the back of your mind – it would’ve been better if he got angry at you and announced he despised you, but he never did – that his hot and cold nature bothered you more than anything else.

You’ve eventually had enough that you just stopped caring. Barging in during his bath time, your nostrils flare upon seeing your husband so relaxed in the tub. Even after a year of marriage, he’s so unaffected and unaware by your need for him.

He really doesn’t care.

“Little one,” Sukuna blinks as he sits up from the tub, strong arms hanging off the edges of the bed. You admit; he really was beautiful and a desirable man that you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help but crave the one thing you knew you weren’t supposed to have. “What’s wrong?”

“Do you not want me?” you suddenly demand, tears already streaming down your face faster than you would like. Hell, you never wanted to cry in the first place. “Am I not desirable enough for you?”

Sukuna chuckles nervously.

Oh, great, now he’s nervous around you?

“What are you going on about?”

“Don’t act like I don’t know what you’re doing,” you snap, “Every time we go to bed, you always put some distance between us and keep to your side of the bed. You push me away when I try to reach for you and you never touch me or kiss me on the lips. I-I understand this marriage was against your will, but I’m still your wife and I need you, okay?” chest tightening uncomfortably, you place a hand over your poor, aching heart that is further crippled when Sukuna’s face falls. “I just feel like...you’re sickened by me, like you cannot stand to be with me in the same room as me. It makes me feel like...it would’ve been better if I wasn’t here.”

You don’t know what kind of response you’re expecting from him after your outburst, but definitely not him standing up to loom over you. You respectfully avert your eyes from the sinful image of water dripping down his defined body, but it’s too late and he’s too close already that you won’t be surprised if he can hear your heartbeat pumping frantically.

He was large and imposing, truly a terrifying sight right before you especially with his tattoos that trail and wrap all around his muscular thighs, yet you’re not nervous because he could hurt you.

Rather, you’re agitated because he’s so close, so within reach that if you step a little closer, you could easily find the warmth you’ve been dreaming of for so long.

You’re frustrated because you want him though you shouldn’t.

Just then, Sukuna caresses your cheek and pulls the both of you back in the tub with you above him, and him lazily grinning above you. You gasp, abashed, that your clothes were soaked to the brim and it stuck close to your damp skin until it took the shape of your silhouette. Sukuna, on the other hand, is completely unbothered as he eyes your pebbled nipples poking through the thin material of your nightgown and simply drags you forward on his thighs.

“S-Sukuna—”

“You really have no idea, do you?” he whispers lowly, his long claws carefully tracing down the sides of your jaw. “My innocent, little lamb...the reason I distance myself from you is because every waking day that you are right beside me, my self-restraint thins, and I’m not sure I can hold back a little longer from you taming me,” Sukuna’s dark eyes brims with something unreadable as he holds your gaze. The look he wears is beyond intense that he takes your breath away, literally, and you’re left gaping at him silently. “I push you away because I want you more than anything else, but I respect you and I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You-you want me?”

“Clearly, little one, you’re inherently unaware of how captivating you are,” Sukuna says as if if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, and you shiver at his words – or from the cold water, you don’t really know. “Stop looking at me like you want me to kiss you. I may not stop once I get a taste of you. Like I said before – I won’t touch you unless you asked.”

You do remember him saying that from your first time together, but your head goes blank, and no words leave your lips even as you mouth nonsense.

Sukuna taps your lips. “Speak, little one. You need to use your big girl words.”

“Kiss me,” you vociferated in one breath, desperately clutching on your thighs. “Please.”

For a moment, you think he’s going to push you away as his eyes narrow into suspicion, but soon he’s tugging at your collar to bring you down for a heated kiss. Sukuna is tugging your robes down until your collarbones are exposed, his tongue and lips leaving yours to leave marks and love bites all over the patch of skin instead. You tug at his hair as you crane your neck to the side, succumbing to the undeniable pleasure his warmth and greediness consumes you with.

Grinding down on his groin, you notice he’s already hard. Hard for you, and this realization makes you kiss him back hungrily as you whimper above him.

Sukuna is feverishly sucking on your tongue and pawing at your breasts the next instant before the spell is immediately broken just as it happened. For before you could reciprocate the same amount of eagerness he kissed you with, Sukuna is already sliding you off of him until you’re on the other side of the tub, left staring at him wordlessly with his lips red and swollen.

“Not today, little one. I think that’s enough.”

You hear your heart shatter into pieces. Pride; it was about the only thing you had, but it seemed even that had been taken away from you.

“You really don’t want me.”

Your voice cracked as your eyes began to tear up.

“No, love, that’s not what I meant,” he groans into his hands, “Believe me, I’d spent enough nights sweaty and frustrated knowing I can’t ravish you and have those lush thighs around me already,” waiting for him to continue, Sukuna sighs and holds you closer, though he could only caress your knee right now that you’re wary of getting hurt again. “This is your first time, okay? I want to make it special for you – you’re not experiencing bliss with me if it happens impulsively with you barging in my bath.”

Something like hope lights up inside you.

“Y-you’ll really do that for me?”

“Tch, brat, don’t go all soft on me now. I wouldn’t suggest testing my patience even further,” he playfully flicks your forehead when you tried to kiss him again, but Sukuna is already tilting his cheek to other side before you could. You would’ve been heartbroken again that he’s refused you, but his words held more than reassurance – and so did his uncomfortably hard cock – that all previous insecurities vanished into thin air.

Sukuna grabs you by the waist to plant your feet on the ground outside the tub, carrying you as if you were nothing more than a ragdoll to him. “Now go and get changed. I’ll fuck you another time.”

“Don’t say it like that!”

“My deepest apologies, little one,” he commented sarcastically with a roll of his eyes, though his smile turned genuinely warm the last minute. “I’ll make love to you when you’re ready.”

He must’ve lied.

You’re annoyed because Sukuna is intentionally avoiding you and acting like you don’t exist. Pissed off, you go into a curse exorcising spree to get the King of Curses out of your mind, reminding yourself that he was vile like them and he didn’t deserve even a second of your time.

Although no matter how hard you tried, your mind still kept racing back to him even as you come back home, bloody and tired when you realize the temple is eerily quiet. Not a living soul could be found around, no servant fretted at your arrival and your husband most definitely did not lurk in the shadows like he usually did. The only sign the temple hadn’t been abandoned yet were the lines of candles trailing down the hall to your shared room with him, and you gasp as you see the petals decorating the bed and rose-scented candles lit everywhere.

Sukuna was nowhere to be seen.

But he was felt as he kisses your neck, his hands untying the knots of your yukata. You stiffen in reflex before relaxing as soon you recognize his scent. Behind you, Sukuna pauses, his lips still in the column of your neck.

“You’re upset.” He wasn’t asking; rather observing.

“Not anymore,” you mumble in response, although you weren’t entirely convinced even as you come closer to the bed, your husband trailing behind with his pinky looped to yours. “Did you do all this for me?”

“Yes. Do you like it?”

“I love it, thank you,” you hide your smile for him, not wanting him to see that it’s so easy to alleviate your anger to him. He has to earn your approval again, so you turn to him with a forced scowl and arms crossed against your chest. “But why were you ignoring me for days?”

You intended to look intimidating, but the King of Curses only laughed.

“You look cute when you’re mad. Plus, it made you want me more than you already do, didn’t it?” he chastised, the implications of his words making you pout in humiliation. Sukuna is quick to step closer to you, cupping your cheeks into his hand, and you hated how easily you leaned into his touch. Nevertheless, you turned away from him, using all your energy to muster your most serious ‘I’m not bothered’ face.

“Aw, don’t be shy, it’s written all over your face, little one,” he breathes on the shell of your ear, hands trailing down to lightly drape your clothes below your shoulders. Unable to hold it back, you end up shivering at his featherlike touches.

“It’s okay. I loved hearing your soft whimpers every time you touched yourself in the bath, thinking that I’m probably not around to hear, hm? You forget I sense everything,” his laugh is mocking yet laced with lust, “From the frantic singing of your heart, the way you tense up a little when I’m around, or the way those beautiful legs of yours clench together each time my robe is a little loosened,” Sukuna dips his nose right under your jaw where his tongue darts out to lick a flat stripe down your neck, and just like that, you’re breathlessly clutching on his white robes that are already unfastened. Damned tease.

“Even the smell of your arousal is enticing me to enrapture you right now, little one. I can practically hear the silent begging in that pretty little head of yours.”

You forgot how to breathe.

“B-but I’m dirty, I just finished exorcising curses.”

“Would it be comedic if I said I am aroused at the thought my wife could easily end me right here and now?” shaking your head at him, Sukuna smiles mysteriously. “But you won’t, would you? You need me too much for that,” he leans closer than he already was before, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Tell me, do you want me?”

“Yes,” you whispered breathily, “Please, Sukuna, touch me.”

“It’s my love to you.”

“Not Your Majesty?”

“Hmm, that is delightful to hear as well,” he says, “But let’s our drop our titles. For now, whatever happens between us is intimately between man and wife. Now go clean up, little one. I’ll be waiting for you once you’re ready.”

You waste no time into darting to the bath, scrubbing the blood and dirt on each nook and crevice of your body until you’re squeaky clean. You’re about to head back to bed when you quickly practice puckering your lips to make yourself look desirable, muttering hopefully flirty lines that would make your husband want you more before calling it quits from the embarrassment you caused upon yourself.

By the time you’ve completely dried and moisturized yourself to absolute perfection that you’re confident of yourself, you find Sukuna emptily staring into the ceilings. “Done already? Someone’s eager.”

You roll your eyes at him. Why did you like him again?

“Shut up and kiss me.”

“Gladly, little one,” he confides, patting his thighs to encourage you to climb onto him. Now that things were actually getting real and your endless dreams would soon become reality, your palms grow sweaty as you settle yourself onto his lap. “You tell me right away if I’m hurting you, you understand? One word and I’ll stop; though I doubt you’ll be in your right mind to want to stop once I’ve had my way with you.”

You don’t really understand much of what he’s saying anymore.

He’s kissing you so slowly, so passionately and you’re both undressing each other that nothing but desire and lust clouds your thoughts in that moment. You’re drunk on the sweet taste of him, his natural musky scent beyond intoxicating for your mortal self to handle. Too lost in the bliss of finally being intimate with him, you don’t realize Sukuna has already pushed your towel down until it pools at your waists. His sharp intake of breath is the only thing that pulls you back to reality as he greedily takes in each beautiful curve and dip of your body.

His stare is so fervid that you grow shy and cover yourself, where Sukuna quickly grips your wrist as a warning. “No. You do not hide yourself from me.”

“Then stop staring too much.”

“Is it a sin to appreciate divine beauty?” he tilts his head to the side and blinks at you innocently. “You are ethereal, my wife.”

Before you could be too flustered to respond, Sukuna fortunately saves you from the embarrassment by kissing you again, though it doesn’t last long before his mouth is trailing from your collarbone and down to your breasts. You mewl as Sukuna eagerly sucks on one breast, the other showered with attention from his rough, calloused palms. Meanwhile, you push his clothes away to expose his strong shoulders which you use as leverage because his ministrations make you feel like you’re losing control over your own body.

Rolling your hips on his erect cock, Sukuna groans through your skin, squeezing your breast hard enough that you can’t take it anymore right after he tweaks your nipple. “Love, please, I need you right now.”

“Patience, little one,” he reminds, “I need to prepare you well.”

“I’ve been waiting for months, Sukuna, I’m sure I’m more than ready.”

“Emotionally, sure, but physically?” he chuckles darkly, “Little one, do you not understand your nimble fingers cannot compare to my cock? I might hurt you if you’re not stretched out enough.”

“Then stop kissing me and start—” you’re cut off with a gasp, your nails sinking down harder into his skin the moment his fingers began to rub at your pussy. “Y-your claws—”

“I kept them for years, but I had to cut them just for you, little one. What do you have to say about that?”

“Thank you,” you offer with a breathy moan, head falling into his shoulder from the overwhelming yet welcomed intrusion. “Oh, Sukuna, it’s too good, I can’t.”

“Yes, you can,” he bites the shell of your ear and tugs at the lobe, basically biting it between his teeth to distract you from another long and thick digit pushing past your walls. “One more?”

“O-oh!” his thumb has now joined the party by rubbing soothing circles on your clit, effortlessly pulling your lips aside with the rest of his digits to expose your sensitive bundles of nerves for him. Sukuna keeps his eyes on yours the whole time, watching and drinking in the face you make – pleasure written all over your features from the swollen lips, pupils blown wide, and desire pooling in swirls of curiosity and eagerness. It’s a face he never wants to forget; a face he wants to see more of that Sukuna eventually lays you down against the pillows, admiring how unreal you looked in that moment.

Hair splayed all over the pillow, legs spread wide open with his hands caressing your core, and a strong arm gripping his with small gasps accompanied by desperate calls for his name to do more, please you more – your words instantly translate into commands.

“You are so beautiful,” Sukuna praises rather angrily, “Never forget that. Each inch of you, fuck, you are the most dangerous mortal, you know that?”

You don’t have time to react before he’s going down on you and spreads your legs apart, keeping them pinned down to the bed. The stretch hurts but he easily soothes your pain by massaging your inner thighs, crawling down to kiss your ankles, then licking all the way up to your knee where he stops for a second, only to happily be on your sopping cunt the next moment. He’s peppering barely there kisses to your inner thighs just on your outer lips, his breath warm and teasing on your heat.

It feels like he intends to ruin you tonight.

“Sukuna, stop teasing!”

“What do you want me to do, little one?” he grins from between your legs, the vibrations of his chuckles resonating deep within your cunt that sporadically clenches right in front of his face that’s shamelessly imprinting your scent deep into his memory. “How can I make you feel good?”

“You know how!”

“You need to tell me so I know. I can’t read your mind.”

“Your mouth...”

Sukuna’s smile grows wider the longer you struggle to find your words, but exactly how in the world could you say such vulgar things out loud? He is far more patient tonight than any other day, however, that Sukuna props himself to his elbows to peer up at you innocently. “Where do you want my mouth and what should I do with it?”

Swallowing the rest of your pride, you finally utter: “T-taste me...down there.”

“Here?” he prods your clit, pulling a high-pitched gasp from you. Your husband’s smirk is nothing short of condescending just before he finally kisses your clit, sucking the bud into his mouth until you writhe before him. It takes minimal effort for someone of his strength to hold your legs in place, his grip just tight enough to be commanding. The thought of being completely in his mercy made your head spin in circles, your chest heaving up and down from the pleasure he was blessing yet torturing you with. “You’re so responsive, little one. I’m honoured I’m the one who gets to make you feel like this.”

“M-more, please, I need more.”

You expect him to tease you further, but your husband must’ve noticed that you’re too edged and decided to have pity on you. He doesn’t waste another second before he’s wrapping his lips around your pussy, treating it as if it were your own lips that always tasted like honey.

Sukuna is completely immersed in the act of pleasuring you with his tongue only, so much so that he’s silent aside from the little hums he lets out while you moan for him.

Unable to care about being too loud anymore (not that you needed to since Sukuna had made everyone go back home to give you both privacy) you find yourself throwing your head back, legs falling open wider to grant him deeper access to your most sensitive parts. Sukuna continues to massage your inner thighs and even drags the back of your knee to rest on his muscular back littered with battle scars and tattoos, the dark markings on his skin flexing with each movement. His eyes are closed and his nose is grazing against your swollen clit that had reddened already, your pussy lips opening up like a new world he had to explore, and explore he would.

Your hands find solace in his hair the shade of gentle sunsets that were often shared in lazy kisses and subtle touches, nails dragging across his scalp just enough to make your husband hiss right between your legs. Something begins to tighten in your belly as you grind your clit onto his face, too absorbed in the mind-numbing sensation of his tongue now poking against your entrance and the past barrier slowly blooming open to welcome him.

With shaking legs and a chest drenched in sweat, pebbled nipples further stimulated by the cold breeze drifting in from the windows, your eyes snap open as that rope snapped deep within your belly.

Your gaze shoots down below you to watch your husband ardently lapping your juices like a man starved. Now this wasn’t new to you – you’ve heard enough about the King of Curses and his bloodlust. Whispers of his thirst and desire to slay entire towns and even feast on mortals’ souls was enough to keep you at bay when you were still a young sorcerer, for it was already a blatant warning that Sukuna would feed on anything and anyone, that his hunger was quite something that couldn’t be satiated.

But seeing him unhinged and a slave to pleasing you has never felt more erotic that you ride out your orgasm, toes curling and legs trembling every now and then from the aftershocks of your high.

Slowly, Sukuna darts out his tongue one last time just to leave a teasing touch to your clit before he’s crawling right above you again. The ceiling is obscured by his large frame hovering over you, arms trapped between your head and his gallant member poking just between your thighs. You end up shivering under him as your husband regards you – with affection, pride, curiosity – gentle in comparison to his true nature in caressing your cheek, both of you unbothered by the slick that meets your skin.

“Are you okay?” he breathes out, watching your fucked out smile bloom into a felicitous grin.

“Perfect,” you mumble, although rather shyly. You’d seen him naked before, but never hard, and never with the intention that soon you’d truly be connected – in heart, in body, in mind, and in soul. The thought makes your heart skip a beat, your eyelids growing hooded as Sukuna absentmindedly traces patterns on the curve of your hip. “Sukuna...you’re perfect.”

Your husband laughs, the sound of his glee contagious that you’re chuckling with him as well. “Have you seen yourself, little one? I think I fall for you harder each day.”

His sudden confession brings about a silence in the room, but it wasn’t comfortable, and neither was it tense. If anything, it destroys any traces of previous hesitation and pent up anger that’s only been formed in the first place due to the fact he was Curse and you a sorcerer.

The nature of your relationship had been paradoxical to begin with, perhaps even beastly, but nothing was beastly about it now as you wrap an arm around his neck to bring him closer to you. And Sukuna was just that – the man, the Curse, the feared King whose simple mention of his name made mere mortals tremble – the same person that somehow understands your silence better than anyone. No words were needed when he could read your mind and knew his way around your heart a little too much, not once leaving his lips on yours as he sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you before him. Both of your skins are hot and flushed, yet you’re greedily touching and pulling at one another, his large palms clawing at your ass to pry your pussy lips open while you drag your nails down his chest.

He grunts into your mouth; the sound deep and masculine that it vibrates all the way down to your core. You gasp into his mouth – your breath immediately swallowed by his tongue that dances with yours – once you feel him slip inside.

The stretch is unlike anything you’ve felt before.

You’ve fought and exorcised countless of curses that pain was no stranger to you at this point, but never had you felt so...alien to a sensation both tragic and addicting. Pulling away to breathe air back into your lungs, your forehead knocks with Sukuna until your noses are brushing against the others, mouth hanging open as your walls struggle to accommodate him.

“Oh, oh god,” you mewl above him, eyes wide open as you witness each inch of his cock disappearing from the motion of you swallowing his length whole. He was big; terrifyingly so, and you shake with fear that you wouldn’t be able to take him or that he might rip you apart. “Su-Sukuna—”

“You’re fine,” he reassures by pulling your cheeks back to him, your delicate face trapped between his rough hands. Although his eyes are dark with lust, there’s a tenderness behind them that placates you. “You can tell me to stop if it hurts. Do you want me to stop?”

“No.”

There’s no lie or hesitation behind your voice. Sukuna watches your face carefully to detect any sign of discomfort, but you want this, want him, and the pleasure combined with the tolerable sting only makes you desire him even more. The mere fact that there had to be pain and sacrifice, that you had to place your whole trust in him before you could truly succumb to the pleasure and love that created light and hope in this world was enough for you to want to keep going.

“I’m okay,” you tell him, and Sukuna wipes away the frown on your face with the pads of his fingers.

He allows you to go at your own pace until you’re completely seated on his cock, the heated member throbbing so hard inside you that you think he’s poking and prodding right deep into a place where you could hold him close the most.

It’s too much and too good that for once, you let your walls crash down as you bury yourself in his shoulder. Sukuna holds you closer by pulling you right into his chest, large arms wrapped around your frame while your breasts tease the rugged and taut muscles of his body. Even the slightest movement of you adjusting yourself on his lap makes his cock graze against your bumpy walls that you’re both moaning left and right. As you struggle to make sense of the sensations bursting within you, Sukuna’s self restraint hangs dangerously by a piece of thread. You can tell by how he’s cupping your ass and lifting your body up effortlessly before he slides you back down on his thick pole, that single, simple gesture repeated over and over again along with him bringing his hips back up to meet your warmth sending a scorching heat all over your body.

“Love, that’s, fuck,” you curse incoherently, and upon hearing a profanity leave your otherwise innocent lips makes something snap inside your husband.

Sukuna is gripping onto your hips for dear life as he bounces you up and down on his cock, tilting his head back just to scrutinize your connected bodies. A thick ring of white cream surrounds the base of his cock until it slides down on his veiny cock, sounds of skin slapping against skin and the loud squelching of your pussy even more beautiful than the screams mortals have moments right before their death in his hands. But Sukuna be damned – you felt too good that this might as well have been his death.

“You feel so fucking good,” he praises through gritted teeth, easily manhandling you and throwing you back on the bed where he’s on you in a second. “Look at you, little one, taking my huge cock so well. It’s like you’re made just for me – you want to be with me, don’t you? I would please you, fuck you good every day, yes, fuck!”

Sukuna ended up hitting a spot that equated to uncharted territory, causing you to tighten around him with a sharp cry. “Oh, right there, right there!” you rub your clit for further stimulation, moaning louder when he hoists both your legs on his chest.

He presses your legs and hugs his around his arms, flipping it to the side until your feet are right beside his ears. Sukuna has gone completely feral – his pace and drive animalistic, growling like a predator consuming his prey before he softens, kissing your ankles just as he grips your legs to make them squish together. The sudden lack of space makes your pussy tighter and more sensitive for him that you’re fisting the sheets right beside you, too fucked out to even form a coherent sentence. You’re babbling mindlessly on how good he’s making you feel, completely limp and motionless under him from how deep he’s hitting.

“Please, please, please—” you cry out, reaching out just seconds away from your orgasm with the need to touch him. Sukuna gives in and lets go of your legs until they fall at your side, stretching you out further from when he leans forward to capture your lips in a kiss.

He’s caressing your cheeks and swipes a thumb over your tears, quite nearly folding your half. His balls are slapping against your ass the harder he thrusts inside you, but his hips are stuttering and he’s panting right beside your ear that you can tell he’s close. It prompts you to wiggle under him to wrap your legs around his waist, bringing him closer and clutching his scalp just to have him impossibly close, because even thinking about letting him go sounds too painful, especially now that he’s claimed you as his just as you’ve marked him yours.

“I worship you,” he blurts out with a few final thrusts that has you crumbling under him in a silent scream, your focus completely on his dark, passionate eyes as you came. Sukuna then laces his fingers through yours while he pumps himself inside you, your walls milking him of everything he’s got. “You are divine, my wife, you have bewitched me for eternity.”

“Sukuna,” you call out weakly, and he’s quick to litter kisses all over your face from your whimpers. “Sukuna-I-I—”

“Shh, I know, I know,” Sukuna places a finger on your lips, letting you calm down from that earth shattering orgasm he just gave you. He pulls his spent dick out a minute later and scoops up your cum that’s spilling out from your pussy lips, his gaze never leaving yours the whole while he sucks his fingers inside his mouth. He’s so dirty and erotic that you’re clenching around nothing once more, but he shakes his head with a low chuckle as if he can sense you want more. Sukuna kisses you just to transfer the cum mixed with spit right onto your tongue, gripping your jaw when your eyes widen at him. “Swallow it, little one. That’s just a taste of what I could give to you.”

You don’t know what pulled you to actually swallow it – it tastes bitter and even a little salty, though it had a bittersweet tinge of scent to it that you don’t mind, especially not when Sukuna just stares at you like you’re most his prized possession.

Sukuna is right by your side the next moment. He’s tamed the next moment, pure comfort and bliss from the way he’s tenderly running his fingers up and down the sides of your body like he’s memorizing the feel of you around him. You both don’t say anything as you place your cheek right above his chest, arms locked on his chest in a desperate cling, but neither does he want you to let go. Sukuna threads his fingers on your hair before you feel his lips caress the crown of your head, mumbling sweet nothings right as you’re welcoming sleep.

Until he taps your breast.

“Little one?”

“Yes?”

“We never had our honeymoon, do we?” he queries, and you twist your head to face him as your brows draw together in thought.

“No, I don’t think we did. I pushed you away from me on our first night together, remember?”

Sukuna’s eyes shone with mischief. “How could I forget? You tried to kill me right after our wedding,” both of you share a laugh at the memory, though there were no more harsh feelings or contempt shared, only love, and love only. Sukuna softens under your gaze as your chuckles tinker down to a giggle, your finger teasingly drawing circles on his chest as you bite your lip. And like always, Sukuna knows you just a little too well. “I know that look. What is it that you want, little one?”

“You.”

“Me?” he repeats with a dark chuckle that sends heat right down to your womanhood. “You already have me, little one, your wish has been granted a long time ago.”

Your face burns. “I mean, I want you. Again. One more.”

“One more?”

“Or maybe a lot more,” you pipe up, but Sukuna’s smirk is growing more and more devious that your former tenacity soon dwindles down into meekness. “O-only if you want to. You must be tired.”

“Little one, I’m the King of Curses, did you really think I would be tired from fucking my sweet little wife?” At his words, Sukuna tilts your chin until you’re left with no choice but to be held captive under his lust. He leans down to teasingly bite your bottom lip, and you’re already breathing hard as you feel his hands begin to trail down to your core that’s more than eager to take him all over again. “Like I said, I worship you, and I’m nothing but a bewitched man who would gladly fuck his wife as long as she asks.”

Safe to say, you couldn’t exorcise curses for quite some time.

[sirenofthegreenbanks]

yby knowing that wkx is the ghost master is carved in my brain but right now, he ofc has no idea yet. so im trying to imagine what wkx must seem like to him. from the very first meeting, when wkx was nice (nice!!!!) and yby generously allowed him to pay for his meal, to the sudden interruption of yby's small fight with zzs on the bridge (wkx's friendliness died a sudden death and got never revived, this also got yby questioning their relationship for the first time), to the reveal of the nails and the discussion of treatment (revealing to yby that wkx is mouthy and got bite but is not treated like an outsider by zzs at all and would humiliate himself if that saved zzs), to joining them in the cave after the heroes conference (pitchhissbickering continues and wkx calls zcl openly his child).

i mean, yby knows nothing about wkx's background!! to yby, he must look like a brash, young man in expensive scholarly robes with not-bad martial arts, who always hangs at zzs's arm and always backtalks. who has been, without fail, there as well whenever yby meets zzs; that one time wkx wasnt there he immediately corrected that mistake by showing up out of the blue! and im pretty sure that moment in the cave truly is intended as many viewers have interpreted it; wkx calls zcl his child and yby wonders if wkx is part of four seasons too and zzs only smiles at this. thats gay! im pretty sure it passed censorship because it has another layer, the shixiong-shidi layer. but yby doesnt know that and zzs doesnt know that and to them both, it was definitely an acknowledgment of the gay!

anyway. that wkx is the ghost master and yby despises him (because of this) is pretty solidified in my mind, but it really only happens in the latter half of the show and until then, yby got no idea. so i find it funny to imagine and to observe, their relationship separate from the ghost master-sword immortal politics bullshit

i love wkx so much he is so pretentious and absolutely unaware of how weird he comes off as. its adorable. these moments when he tries to give a grandiose impression like some elegant gentleman, refined yet competent, and it just doesnt land as he thought it would be, are so human. hes so cute