#but giving in and dedicating himself to you

[wilhelminyard]

david wymack is such a fierce protector. he loves so deeply and so unconditionally it makes me wanna cry.

like he had just met neil when he said "you need one of us to talk to your parents? are they the ones who hurt you? [...] if your parents are a problem for you, we'll move you to south carolina early."

and he offered him his couch. and then he told him "foxes are foxes for a reason and they know we wouldn't sign you if you didn't qualify. that doesn't mean they know the specifics. it's not my place to ask and I'm sure as hell not going to tell them. did you think I made the team the way it is because I thought it would be a good publicity stunt? it's about second chances, neil. second, third, fourth, whatever, as long as you get at least one more than what anyone else wanted to give you."

he barely knew jean when he told him "your so called master and that bitch of a nephew of his. kevin told us the truth when he transferred so we'd know what we were getting into. I know you think you have to go back to evermore and I know what's waiting for you there. I will burn this house down before I let him touch you again."

and let's not forget about "wymack didn’t care if he had nine foxes or twenty-five. he’d stand behind them until the bitter, bloody end."

and how he usually drives the bus himself because "it was apparently better to be uncomfortable but safe than to trust a stranger with his fractured team."

david wymack dedicated his life to showing kids who were dealt a shit hand in life that they can still play their cards right. I heard somewhere once that sometimes miracles are just good people with kind hearts and I thought it was a little corny but oh does it apply to someone like david wymack. he gave each of the foxes their own miracles. I know he is a fictional character but he just has the biggest heart and honestly he makes me want to have faith in humanity.

[kuwanxs]

Gojo Satoru is the prime example of a character whose very existence is rooted in weaponisation. His dehumanisation is so severe that it serves as a point of origination for who he really is. And while it is a fact that Gojo, as the strongest sorcerer, cares very little for his inherent weaponisation, it still doesn’t make his character any less tragic. Canonically speaking, Gojo used his weaponisation to bring his long term goals into motion, without his dehumanisation, the narrative would be very fractured. This is why the hidden inventory arc was the rawest, most jarring arc of the entire series because not only does Gojo get a taste of normalcy but gets hooked onto it to the point that he, a weapon of the Jujutsu society, lets a mass murderer roam freely for ten years. Gojo’s weaponisation is tragic when you see it from the lenses of a viewer. Because at his very core, he is human, which is why his blue spring of youth serves as the point where the entire trajectory of the manga changes because it is when he experiences something akin to normalcy. Obviously this doesn’t take away from the fact that Gojo himself uses his weaponisation to his convenience and often asserts himself a weapon to fulfil his motives but it just gives a lot more dimension to his character. He is not someone who pities himself for being a weapon, because he has honed himself as a weapon, along with the very narrative but that doesn’t take away from his innate humanness.

From having a bounty on his head from the moment he was born to experiencing a taste of youth, to loving and living and losing and then dedicating himself to give the next generation of sorcerers the youth they deserve, to fighting and dying by the hands of the strongest. Gojo fulfils his role not only as a weapon but also a human.

[redtsundere-writes]

Tyrant's Favorite | Sukuna Ryomen

Part 17: Everything Is Cursed

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta read.

Word Count: 6371 words.

Beginning. | ← Previous | Next →

One question was bothering you. You had been through hell and you still hadn't received your reward. That inquiry was running in circles in your mind. There were many answers, but none were facts. What was happening? Why were you going through it? How long would it be until it was over? Many possibilities, none seemed to be the right one. It was a doubt that arose the morning after the small funeral you prepared for your sister.

There was a small chapel past the garden and crops behind the terrible castle. Its white facade, with a classical curved parapet and a red tiled roof, emanated serenity in the middle of hell. On top of the facade, the emblem of Sukuna’s kingdom rose towards the sky. Vines grew around the open arch that reveals its interior. That small place had existed since Sukuna conquered these lands. With no function for that small building, Sukuna decided to leave it as it was. Sometimes the servants would go there in their free time to pray for their souls in case they didn’t survive another day.

You carefully placed the golden urn with Yorozu’s ashes on one of the shelves. Uraume had given it to you the morning after your little expedition with the king. That morning, you woke up, surprised to be in your room in the castle. Apparently, you had fallen asleep while watching the sunset and the king had to carry you back in his arms. “How embarrassing,” you thought before getting ready for the funeral.

You put on the cap of your black cloak so that no one would disturb you as you dedicated a minute of silence to your sister’s soul with your cheeks completely dry. You had quickly accepted that she was no longer with you and that you couldn’t do anything for her in life. Now the only thing you could do was honor her short life. Everything had happened so fast. A couple of months ago you were crying from happiness to see her, and now you didn’t want to cry from disappointment.

You listened to Kenjaku give his class, but you couldn't pay attention. It had been a week since Yorozu's death and something was missing. The reason why you had committed that atrocity that you wanted to forget but would haunt you for the rest of your life. You tried to pay attention to your teacher, but that doubt kept pulling you into the limbo of probabilities.

“Once you understand your opponent's point of view, it is easier to defend your own position more successfully, especially because that's how you avoid misunderstandings and arguing about aspects that the other side hasn't really said,” Kenjaku explained while writing the keywords on the board. “That's why studying the rival is very important in the debate.” He turned around to find you lost in your thoughts. You looked at the board, but you weren't really reading what it said. “Do you have any questions?”

“Why hasn't the king proposed to me yet?” You asked him, coming back to your senses. Kenjaku looked at you confused.

“I meant about class…”

“Ah.” You quickly read what the board said about the steps to learn how to argue. “I have no doubts about that.”

Kenjaku had noticed your strange attitude for a couple of days now, but as you continued with your education without delay, he never asked you. He thought it was because you were still mourning your sister's death or sad about not knowing the true whereabouts of your sisters. The teacher smiled to himself, just when he thought he could read you like an open book, it turned out that he wasn't.

“So that's what's been distracting you lately?” Kenjaku inquired.

“Did I do something wrong? The king promised to marry me once I killed someone of my kind, but he hasn't done it yet,” you explained worriedly.

“Do you want to marry him that much?” Kenjaku joked tenderly. It was nice to see a girl completely in love.

“Of course,” you answered without hesitation. Your master smiled at hearing you so excited. “My sister died because of that, I better do it.” That was not an answer he expected to hear.

“Excuse me?”

“I lost Yorozu because of that deal. If Sukuna doesn't propose to me, I would have killed my sister for nothing,” you explained, crossing your arms in frustration. “Do you know why the king hasn't done it yet?”

Kenjaku's enthusiastic smile disappeared just like that day when Sukuna came back with you in his arms, completely asleep and, worst of all, without a ring on your finger. The king was stupid for not taking the opportunity to ask you to marry him after all.

“I have no idea,” Kenjaku answered. “Maybe he's been very busy.”

That could be a possibility. You hadn't seen the king as often as before. You used to see him at every meal of the day, in the afternoon when you gave him your daily report, and when he sometimes poked his nose into your education. Now, you only saw him at breakfast time because he spent the rest of the day locked in his office. You couldn't even report to him because he wouldn't let you in. It was strange how everything around you had changed after your sister's death.

"I hope he didn't scam me," you thought, holding your head in guilt.

"The king may be many things, but a scammer isn't one of them," Kenjaku, I assure you.

The door opened, interrupting the teacher-student conversation. You recognized almost immediately the naturally bitter face, the gray hair, and the dull uniform in dark tones. It was that new servant who was so kind to you. All you knew about him had been from Mrs. Inoue, who had told you that he was such a reserved, serious, and somewhat grumpy man. It seemed so strange to you that you never perceived it like that.

“Sorry to interrupt you. The king calls you to his office,” he announced.

“Maybe the time has come,” Kenjaku commented with a smile.

“Finally…” You sighed.

It was strange. Kenjaku thought you would be more excited about marrying the king. You studied complicated subjects that fried your brain, trained until exhaustion, and got ready early to please the king’s eyes. It made no sense for you to work so hard for this moment and not be excited.

Sukuna let them into the office. You and Kenjaku entered after bowing in respect to the king and his right-hand man, Uraume, who stood faithfully behind him. Sukuna’s heart fluttered at the sight of you. He gripped his pen tightly to mask his nervousness at being in your presence.

Returning to the castle after his failed marriage proposal, he carried you to your room as you snored softly. He gently laid you down on the bed so as not to wake you up. He took off your boots before tucking you into bed. He sat next to you to admire your calmness. Your chest rose and fell slowly to the rhythm of your breathing. Your eyelashes stood out more when your eyes were closed. Your half-open lips invited him to come closer to kiss you like that night you spent together. “Enough!” Sukuna scolded himself in his mind to stop and immediately leave your room so you could continue your dream.

Since that night, he realized that he can’t think coherently when he iswas near you, so he decided to take immediate measures so you wouldn’t distract him when working. It was frustrating how your mere presence could upset him like that. He had to fight with all his instincts to concentrate on what mattered most now, the future of his kingdom.

You and Kenjaku approached the desk. Quickly, you noticed a large black box with a gold engraving of roses on it. It was almost as long as the desk. That must have been the reason you had been called. It seems that this was not what you were expecting.

“Open it.” Sukuna ordered you.

You looked at Kenjaku for a second, worried about what might be inside. Your master patted you on the back a couple of times, inviting you to come closer. You worked up the courage to open the box without a hint of fear. The latches clicked open at the same time. You lifted the lid to reveal the immaculate treasure.

A beautiful rose gold bow that radiated a special aura against the light. Your mouth dropped to the floor as soon as you pulled it out of its box, along with its matching pink-dyed leather quiver. You never thought you'd see such a beautiful weapon in your life. You pretended to load the bow with an imaginary arrow to test it out. It was lighter than the one you had before, and you could tell it was made with the best quality materials. As you lowered the bow, you noticed a small detail. In the small hollow of the handle there was an engraving, a small daisy. You smiled at the cute detail. You thought it would have a rose, since it was a common symbol in the Sukuna kingdom, but daisies are cute too.

“It's a cursed bow,” Sukuna explained, catching your attention. “That means you can kill curses with it. Keep that in mind when you train with my soldiers.”

“What's the difference from a normal bow?” You asked curiously.

“This bow is infused with the cursed energy from Yorozu’s body,” the king replied bluntly.

“Are you saying that part of my sister is here?” You stammered. Everyone in the room could tell that you were about to burst into tears.

“Yes,” Sukuna replied in the same tone.

You hugged the bow to your chest as you sobbed softly, hiding your face behind your hair and the upper limb. A pang of guilt attacked Sukuna’s chest. He really thought you would like his gift, since you deserved a cursed weapon made especially for you, but it seems he was wrong.

“Thank you…” You sobbed. “Thank you for giving me something to honor her life with.”

You looked into his eyes with tears running down your cheeks and a nostalgic smile on your face. Sukuna’s heart quickly skipped a beat as he realized the true reason for your crying. His lower hands, hidden beneath the desk, clenched into fists to control himself. How could you play with his feelings without even trying? Sukuna Ryomen, the king of curses, the powerful tyrant and the commander of thousands, was being corrupted by a mere mortal.

He hated these feelings you caused him. You made him so embarrassed he looked like a tomato, you annoyed him so much, but he couldn't get mad at you, and now, you could manipulate him with a simple smile. He would lose his temper when he was around you and that drove him crazy. If you wanted, he would be in the palm of your hand. He had to keep you as far away from him as possible to prevent the situation from getting worse for him.

“Just go train already,” Sukuna ordered in a grumpy tone, turning his gaze to an empty document to avoid seeing you.

It was a shame he hadn't asked you to marry him yet, but the king really did look busy. You could see the physical effect that being locked up in his office for so long had caused. He had purple eye bags, his posture was stiff, and his eyes scanned the document lazily. “Maybe later,” you thought disappointed before taking the quiver with pink feathered arrows.

“Yes, my king,” you replied with a bow to leave.

“We must leave then,” Kenjaku made you second.

“Who gave you permission to leave?” Sukuna ordered him.

The master was surprised at that. You and Kenjaku shared a confused look, but you decided to obey the king so as not to cause any more inconvenience. Your legs walked as quickly as possible, closing the door behind you as you left the office. Sukuna’s hands relaxed as he no longer had to keep his emotions in check. After making sure you had already left, Kenjaku approached the king.

“Why so secretive, my king?” Kenjaku inquired curiously.

“It’s not a secret, it’s just that she’s not ready to know what I’m planning yet.” Sukuna got up from the desk to take one of the scrolls that were displayed on a bookshelf. He unrolled the scroll with a snap to reveal an updated map of the great world they knew.

It was a large map made from parchment and black ink with wonderful detail. It showed all the important kingdoms and places of interest that made up the world. The Kingdom of Sukuna and the Kingdom of Jogo were to the west, the kingdoms of Gojo, Geto and Yaga; to the north. The kingdoms of Zen'in and Nanami; to the east, and finally, the Kingdom of Tsukumo was to the southeast. Currently, the great tyrant owned the east and planned to expand soon.

"I'm going to declare war on the Zen'in," Sukuna announced, pointing at the large territory with his finger.

Kenjaku looked at him impressed, but not surprised. He knew that one day the king would not be satisfied with keeping the infested lands with only curses, so he would go to conquer human lands. Kenjaku glanced at Uraume out of the corner of his eye, who had not said a single word the entire time they were there. He expected nothing less from the shadow of his majesty.

“Wow, how ambitious,” Kenjaku commented while looking at the map. “May I know why you made that decision?” He returned his gaze to the king with curiosity.

“The Gojo Kingdom and the Geto Kingdom are allied, so an invasion could be complicated with my current troops. The Nanami Kingdom, Tsukumo and Yaga are small but distant. They will be my next targets once I have the Zen'in.” Everything the king said made sense, but there was still a small kingdom that was at the equator of the world to consider.

“What about the Kamo Kingdom? It is small and right in front of the Jogo Kingdom. It is the perfect target.”

“How many times have Commander Mahito and his troops tried to kill them?” Sukuna asked him seriously. Kenjaku gulped at that indirect accusation.

“I have already lost count, my king,” he answered, embarrassed by his comrade.

“They may be a small kingdom, but they are stupidly powerful. They are watching their lands at all hours for living so close to the Jogo kingdom. If anyone is ready for an invasion, it is them.” Sukuna explained. "As this is my first invasion into the heart of a kingdom, I have spent all this time carefully choosing my first victim. Because once I do, the other kingdoms will know what awaits them."

"If you have already decided, I am ready to obey your orders as always." Kenjaku gave a bow of respect that Sukuna completely ignored to look at the window.

"My plan will be carried out once I secure the life of my heir, in case everything goes wrong," Sukuna explained. "During that time, you will take care of the troops of the Jogo kingdom."

"And what about the education of the miss?" Kenjaku asked worriedly.

"I already have that covered." Sukuna answered.

"So what is the first step?" Kenjaku inquired.

“Wait for the Zen’in to make the first move.”

You left your room after finishing getting ready for the day of training that awaited you. You had decided that from now on you would use Yorozu's dresses to train since they were lighter than yours, perfect for moving with complete freedom. Archery is a sport that requires complete mobility of the upper body, so it is annoying to wear elegant dresses that require a corset. You were heading to the courtyard, moving your shoulders in circles to warm up on the way, until you ran into that kind servant. He was dusting off an obsidian vase propped on a marble column with great laziness.

"Did everything go well with the king, miss?" The man asked you when he noticed your presence.

"Yes, he gave me a new bow." You showed it to him to show it off. He was amazed to see it.

"It is very beautiful. It is made with the best fiberglass and carbon. It must have cost the king a good fortune." He explained as he took it to examine it carefully.

“It's obvious that you know about this,” you said, somewhat surprised, taking back your bow.

“Of course I know, I was a hunter before I was a servant,” he replied.

“Really?” You asked, fascinated. The gentleman was going to answer, but another servant, who was passing by, intercepted their conversation.

“Wasuke, leave the lady alone and get back to work!” The servant scolded him angrily.

“Shut your mouth, idiot!” Wasuke replied in the same tone.

That sudden change in attitude took you by surprise. Now you understood why Mrs. Inoue said he was a grumpy man. One moment he could be a kind man and, the next, someone extremely rude.

“In fact, he is working. He is going to help me train,” you defended him. “Isn't that right, Wasuke?” You gave him a knowing wink.

“Of course, miss.” He gave you a slight smile when he realized what you were planning.

The other servant rolled his eyes and walked back the way he came, muttering insults under his breath. Typical attitude for an 80-year-old man. You and Wasuke looked at each other knowingly before smiling at each other as if you had done some mischief.

“I shall warn you that I am a very strict master,” Wasuke warned you.

“Just what I need,” you told him. “My name is Y/n,” you introduced yourself with a bow of respect to your new master.

“Everyone knows who you are,” he joked. “My name is Wasuke Itadori. It will be an honor to train you.” You had a good feeling about this.

Wasuke shouted encouragements at you while you barely did push-ups. As soon as you reached the parade ground, he told you that you were the weakest woman he had ever met in his life, so he forced you to do different exercises to strengthen your arms, shoulders, and back. Your weak muscles could barely support the weight of your own body each time you climbed up, keeping your back as straight as possible. You sweated, even in places you didn't know could sweat.

“Lift that neck, lady! Even a little girl can do 30 push-ups!” Wasuke yelled at you, small drops of saliva escaping from his mouth every time he opened his mouth.

“That's what I'm trying to do!” You complained between moans of exhaustion.

“I don't want a try, I want you to do it!” Wasuke spat. “Three more!”

With the little breath you had left, you lowered your body. The grass tickled the palms of your hands, but that wasn't going to stop you. You climbed up with your back straight and then lowered yourself again. This was more complicated than it seemed. Wasuke kept yelling at you to finish the simple exercise with a good grade. When he said he was a strict teacher, he meant it. You did the last push-up and collapsed to the ground. You groaned in pain as you breathed in the freshly cut grass.

“Get up now,” Wasuke ordered you. You reluctantly obeyed. “Now you are going to hold the bow in front of you for 5 minutes.” That sounded simple.

You took your bow, extended your arms in front of you and held the weapon with both hands. All was well until your limbs began to shiver from the exhaustion of the previous exercises. You tightened your grip on the bow to keep it from slipping from the sweat. You didn’t think you could last 5 minutes like that.

“Can I ask you something?” You tried to distract your brain from the exercise so that time would pass faster. “Why are you here? You look quite young compared to everyone else.”

Unlike the other servants, Wasuke was the youngest of them all, like you at the time. Most servants were between 60 and 80, he looked to be under 50. He had gray hair but still had dark hair, wrinkles from age, but he didn't look like a raisin, and sometimes he didn't hear well, but he was still strong.

“Do you want the truth?” He asked you. You nodded.

The truth was something he had a hard time telling. He was always a good liar to protect his family, especially his daughter. He didn't want her to live in fear because of living in a commune that was in constant danger of being attacked by a curse. His lies were the cause of his only daughter's giant curiosity. 

“My daughter died because of a curse. My wife committed suicide because she couldn't bear the mourning," Wasuke confessed with all the sadness in his heart. "I was a coward and couldn't follow the same path. That's why I'm waiting for the king to decide when it will be my time to join them." Your heart broke when you heard that. It was a tragic fate to suffer. "It's only fair that I too die at the hands of a curse. It's the price I must pay for not protecting my little girl." 

You knew perfectly well what he was talking about. There is no worse feeling than the helplessness of not being strong enough, fast enough, or smart enough to protect what you love. You had lost your family by not being able to fight adversity. You couldn't even protect that child at the harvest for a day who was killed by your lack of courage. You tightened your bow again, this time, out of frustration that both of you had to go through that.

"I'm so sorry," you stammered. You didn't think his answer would be so heartbreaking.

“Don’t apologize. Life is cruel by nature,” Wasuke sighed.

“Still, I’m sorry,” you repeated. “I know what it’s like to lose your family.”

“I know, Miss.” 

Wasuke remembered seeing you cry and scream at the sky for your sin of killing your own blood. He had never seen a person suffer so much physically, emotionally, and psychologically. Even though he was behind the strong walls of the castle, a giant window separated them, and he had a deafness problem, he could still hear the powerful wails of your soul in mourning. Your palms open like books, the blood splattered on the canvas that was your body, and your face in sorrow. It was such a powerful image that he doubted he would ever forget it.

The loud bells woke them both from the memories of their sad pasts. It was the alarm announcing an invasion. This was the second time you had heard it in your time in the castle, and you had an idea of ​​who it could be. Several armed curses ran towards the castle entrance through the battlements that were on the walls, while incoherent instructions were shouted to you.

“Don’t let him pass!” A strong-bodied curse ordered as he summoned a dark screen that slowly covered the entire castle.

“We must go!” Wasuke asked you before taking your arm. You were going to follow him, but you remembered what Sukuna told you on your first day of training:

“In case of an invasion, you will need a cursed bow that allows you to use special arrows to kill curses and use it against sorcerers.” You tightened your grip on the cursed bow he had recently gifted you.

“You go. I will stay here as reinforcement,” you told him, removing your arm so he could leave alone. “Tell everyone to prepare to escape if it gets worse.”

“Are you sure, miss?” Wasuke asked.

“It is an order,” you said, sure.

Wasuke looked at the entrance one last time and nodded, accepting the order you had given him. He returned to the castle at a quick pace to do what he had just been asked to do. You looked ahead before pulling an arrow from your quiver to load your bow. You were completely alone in the courtyard, as all the curses were either outside the castle or on the perimeter. You could only hear the war cries of the curses. You gulped, shaking at not knowing what was going on the other side. You had an idea, but you weren't sure.

The screams turned into wails in a moment. You gripped your bow, mentally preparing for your turn to engage in battle. Though, you were sure you wouldn’t be alone. There was Kenjaku and Uraume to fight next to you. Sukuna can defeat any enemy in the blink of an eye. He would take down this strong foe, wouldn’t he?

The curse screen dissipated into the air, announcing that this curse was annihilated. The chains of the drawbridge began to jingle, and the castle gate swung open. The large bridge fell into place, the ground beneath your feet rumbling. It shook you completely, staggering you in place. You tightly gripped your bow and aimed it at the invader. “A man?” you thought, faltering in your shot.

A tall man, great posture and immaculate aura, walked in confidently, leaving all the curses behind, turning into ash. His spotless black boots thudded against the thick wood, announcing his arrival. His splendid bottle-green military uniform had several gold medals decorating his chest, a black leather belt, and dark pants. He smiled proudly as he combed his blonde hair with black tips back with his fingers.

“Oh?” He stopped upon entering, staring at you in disbelief for a second, as if he had entered the wrong house by accident. “Where is the white-haired guy of questionable sex? He is the one who always greets me,” he asked, confused.

“Did you kill all the curses?” You asked, surprised to see so much ash evaporating into the air.

“You must be new.” The man smiled and confidently approached you. Not knowing his intentions, you stretched the string to load the bow to its limit, but this did not make him stop. “It is a very large weapon, do you know how to use it? I could teach you.” He spoke to you as if you were stupid. You frowned further, this stranger's attitude starting to bother you.

You had recently realized that people like him were the type you disliked the most. Self-centered people who think they can do whatever they please. Yorozu had given you the tools to deal with people like this. You forgave her because she was your sister, but him? This guy was a complete stranger to whom you owed nothing.

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” You questioned with the most demanding tone you could fake, you had copied it from Sukuna from hearing it so much.

“I am Commander Naoya Zen'in,” he announced himself with a proud smile. “So I was right,” you thought.

You had only been a servant in the castle for a short time when you heard that name for the first time. You were washing the king's long robes in the backyard with a few other maids. Your fingers were beginning to wrinkle like they do from being in the soapy water for so long. The quiet and the voices of the gossiping maids kept you company. The little peace of the task was interrupted by the alarm bells that echoed throughout the castle. You stopped at the strange noise, having no idea what you were supposed to do.

“An invasion,” one of the servants announced, surprisingly calm.

“Do you think it's Naoya Zen'in?” Another servant, one who had been in the castle the longest, asked, somewhat excited.

“Winter is almost over, most likely,” Her coworker answered, wiping her hands on her apron after finishing her task.

“Who is Naoya Zen'in?” You asked them, butting into the conversation.

“A very handsome commander from an enemy kingdom who comes every year to deliver a letter to the king,” the first one answered. “Let's go see him,” she invited you to go with them to the entrance of the castle.

“No, thank you. I still have to finish washing this,” you politely declined.

The three ladies quickened their pace to find out if it was the man they could see annually. You looked at them curiously. “Was that man so attractive that you had to see him in person?” You wondered. Now you were curious to see this man, but you had a task to finish. You dipped your hands into the soapy water again to try to remove the stubborn blood stains from the king's white robes.

Now you understand why this man caused such a stir among the maids. Someone with such a presence had not been seen since Geto Suguru's corpse appeared in these parts. You looked towards the window that overlooked the great hall, a small group of ladies greeted Naoya from the safe point. The flattered young man returned the gesture.

“Women being women,” he sighed with a big smile. “Anyway, I have an important letter from Zen'in.”

“You can give it to me and leave,” you told him without lowering your bow.

“I think you don't understand your position as a female,” Naoya came closer without a hint of fear nor respect for you. “You're not going to be able to stop me.”

“No!” You shouted, making him stop at the loud objection. “You're the one who doesn't understand.” You lowered your torso so that the arrow's trajectory would change from his torso to his face. “One shot, and you're a dead man, commander Zen'in.”

Naoya smiled at the offense. Not because of the clear threat of death, but because a woman thought she could be a match against him. You and your pink bow were nothing compared to him. A replaceable servant couldn't be in front of a great commander of one of the most powerful kingdoms in the world. He was about to teach you a lesson, and it would be the hard way.

"Are you sure you don't want me to save you? I doubt a girl as weak as you would survive long here," Naoya offered, giving you one last chance to redeem yourself.

"I don't need you to save me," you spat angrily.

"Fine," Naoya pulled a knife from his back, spinning it in the palm of his hand to wield it. "Whatever you say."

You let go of the rope when you clearly saw his intentions to hurt you, and the arrow flew into his face. He dodged it with his knife before lunging at you in the blink of an eye. Before you knew it, he was already on top of you and his knife was already at your throat. It had all happened too fast. You had no idea how he had reached you so quickly. The blade swung down as Naoya's smile grew wider. You raised your hand to deflect it, but it wasn't going to make it in time. It came so fast that you couldn't even close your eyes to await your fate.

Out of nowhere, a gigantic fist sent Naoya flying, completely away from you. The powerful commander ended up being slammed into the nearest wall. Naoya groaned in pain before falling to the ground. You were perplexed at how bizarre that had been. You touched your neck on instinct, you didn't have a scratch on it. You sat down on the grass to look around for your unexpected savior.

At first glance, he looked like any other human, but up close, things were different. He was a curse with skin covered in stitches as if his body was made of patches. He had long, blue-gray hair that reached past his neck, and was divided into three large locks with bows at the ends. He also dressed like any other human. He was wearing a black shawl that separated into three pieces on the left sleeve and matching pants with white shoes.

“I'm just arriving, and they're already welcoming me with a sorcerer to kill, how fun!” The curse exclaimed as excited as a child in the park.

Naoya stood up with difficulty, dusting off his uniform. You stood up in the same way to retrieve your bow and load it with another arrow. You approached the curse with confidence, since it had saved you, even if it had only been for its own entertainment.

“Are you okay, miss?” The curse asked you with a big smile without taking your eyes off Naoya.

“Yes, I am fine. Thank you,” You told him, along with a small bow. “Who are you?”

“My name is Mahito, I am the commander of the Jogo kingdom. You must be the lady that the king ordered me to protect.” He introduced himself. “Did the king ask you that?” You asked yourself surprised. “So let me take care of this stupid sorcerer.”

“Who are you calling stupid, you fucking curse?!” Zen'in exclaimed before launching into combat for a second round.

Mahito pushed you away suddenly to transform his arms into two tentacles with dozens of knives on them and run towards his fast opponent. Naoya's knife challenged Mahito's along with the clicking of metals. The curse laughed as if it were a game, angering Naoya even more for underestimating him. They were both moving at speeds your eyes could barely keep up with, but you loaded your bow with another arrow anyway. You tried to aim for Naoya, but he was stupidly fast and Mahito was in the way. “Maybe it’s best I don’t get involved now,” you thought with some disappointment.

Mahito changed one of his tentacles into a large sword that fell on top of Zen'in. Naoya barely dodged it, his breathing ragged from the cursed energy he was expending by keeping his technique active for so long. "Who is this guy?!" He thought annoyed before moving away with a couple of backflips until he landed on his feet.

"Fine, you win..." Naoya took the envelope out of his jacket and threw it at you like a ninja star, landing on the grass in front of you. "Just for today," he said before running towards the nearest wall to climb it and escape.

"Oh, not so fast!" You exclaimed annoyed before pulling the rope.

You looked for a target before he left your sight. You focused on his back, which was the area that was free, as he climbed the wall as if he were an agile ant. You let go of the rope and the arrow flew through the air. Naoya saw it coming and dodged out of its path, but the arrow unexpectedly changed its trajectory and stuck in his back. Naoya bit his tongue to stop himself from letting out a cry of pain and continuing on his escape route. In less than a second, he had disappeared from your sight and Mahito's.

"Ah, the king is going to scold me for running away!" Mahito whined, disappointed in his efforts.

"How come that arrow didn't stop him?" You asked yourself confused. Clearly, it hit him, but he still slipped out of your hands like a damn cockroach.

"Those Zen'in have a very strong pride. That's probably what it was," Mahito complained. "But you're very good." He gave you a thumbs up. You smiled slightly.

You looked back at the card that was lying on the grass. You picked it up to examine it. It was a brown envelope with the Zen'in Kingdom's crest stamped on a wax seal at the opening. A purple orchid on the stamp decorated the envelope, giving the package a more elegant touch.

“Gimme that,” Mahito snatched it from you, ready to open it.

“You shouldn't open it,” you warned him. “It's for the king.”

“It's from an enemy,” Mahito said as he looked for a way to open it without destroying the contents. “It could contain poison, activate some bomb or a weird technique they made up. Believe me, these Zen'in are capable of anything.”

Mahito pushed you roughly to get you away from the possible threat. You had no choice but to listen to him. This was an unusual curse. He had a playful attitude, very different from what you imagined a commander should have. You covered your ears as soon as he finally opened the envelope, in case it was a bomb. Instead of a glass or smoke bomb, it turned out to be a confetti bomb. It shot towards Mahito's face, surprising him immediately, as a colored piece of paper fell into his eye.

“Oh!” You quickly approached him. Mahito rubbed his eyes in an attempt to get it off. “Let me see,” you asked.

You grabbed his chin and pulled his hands away to meet his different eyes, since his left eye was navy blue and the other, gray. Even though it was a strange looking curse, his eyes were very pretty. You blew into his eye so that the paper flew away. Once near the tear duct, you reached for it with your thumb to remove it completely.

Your touch was very kind and warm. Mahito was so used to humans treating him so badly that it was a little uncomfortable for him that you were treating him so calmly and with such appreciation. He now understood why Sukuna had chosen you as the future queen, you were a special human.

“That's it,” you smiled at him. “What does the letter say?”

“You read it, my eye hurts,” Mahito reluctantly gave it to you, rubbing his injured eye.

You opened the envelope to check its contents. You thought it was a declaration of war or some important meeting, but no. Nothing like it. Your mouth dropped to the floor as soon as you saw what it was.

Open fanfic commissions!

Masterlist.

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(let me know if you want to be tagged in next chapters!)

[katerinaaqu]

Ismarus! Ismarus!

Another random inspiration I dedicate to my friend @artsofmetamoor Title inspired by the cry of Alexander the Great's army when they ellegedly telled "Thalatta! Thalatta!" ("Sea! Sea!") out of delight to reach the sea while here it is spoken in a different manner altogether

Odysseus was feeling his stomach unsettled and that was not normal for a man like him who as used at the movements of the ship. The storm was very severe after they left Troy. Perhaps, though, it wasn’t the storm itself that made him feel seasick but rather the timing of it and the conditions that brought the storm to their way.

“The storm happened right after the departure from Troy…divided us. Gods, this godsforsaken war! Blasted war!”

He remembered he prayed to Athena for forgiveness on the events that occurred at Troy. His brain was still turning like the top making his already turning stomach even more unsettled than it should be. All the scenarios, all the “what if”s and “what if not”s were roaming around his mind like the voices in the nightmares he was getting!

“I should have said something!” he thought for a billionth time to himself, “That girl was innocent! Blasted Achilles! Blasted Neoptolemus! Blasted war! I should have said something in the council! I should have stopped them! Agamemnon tried! Why not I? Why not I?”

For some reason he was numb; the massacre of Troy had taken all life out of him. Upon the news of the interpretation given by Calchas that the spirit of Achilles demanded his own tribute, Odysseus couldn’t react. He couldn’t say a single word of objection to the council. He had found no reason or energy to oppose anymore… He remembered Polyxena, the way her eyes became glassy with death as Neoptolemous pierced a knife through her tender heart. He remembered he had to hold her down. He realized all he could do was to plead for them to give her a painless death! Hecuba went mad in sorrow in his arms…he still remembered her screams! He still remembered the cries of Astyanax as he fell off the walls…he remembered the accusations of Andromache at Troy! His stomach turned again and this time he couldn’t keep it in. He leaned to the edge of the ship to throw up whatever contents he had left in his stomach (which wasn’t much, he noticed. He barely had some acid in there for they hadn’t eaten anything for days because of the storm!). He felt Polites’s arms to his shoulders.

“You okay?”

“Yeah…” Odysseus lied mopping his mouth with his hand, “It is this blasted storm! And we haven’t eaten anything for days. That is not good for seasickness…”

His lie came easily to his lips. Many of his men also suffered after all so it wasn’t completely unbelievable. Polites nodded as well so that would be enough for now (even though he knew Polites had heard him moan in his sleep many times over as nightmares plundered his mind ever since the sacking of Troy or the events that followed it). He looked around and inspected the sad condition of his companions. The storm had blown off several of their provisions too and the rich gifts from Troy, or some of them at least. They probably also lost a couple of slaves in the sea. At least he noticed all his 12 ships were together so their fleet wasn’t divided from their own, even if he lost sight of all the other fleets of the Greek army.

“The gods are angry! Gods please…please have mercy on me! I just…wanted to go home… I didn’t know… I didn’t want any of this to happen!”

He was lying to himself and he knew it. He was ready to pay the price. Truly he never expected how high it would be but deep down he knew that just his ploy with the horse was bound to cause some anger to the gods. He just hoped that Athena, who blessed his wits with inspiration, would somehow be by his side. However after the slaughter and the human sacrifice, he couldn’t hear her voice anymore. What was worse, the winds divided them and the southern wind brought the severe storm that pushed them towards the north instead of the Aegean islands as they originally planned, so that they could travel south. And the storm had caused not only damage to the ships, but also made them lose plenty of provisions. It was obvious that they were out for some failure or some sort of a misadventure because of those.

“Blasted Troy!” he thought again, “You stole 10 of my best years! You stole my son from me, my wife and my home and now you pushed me to the edge! You made me a criminal to the eyes of my goddess! Blasted Troy I hope your ashes will never revive again! May you and your holy walls never raise their heads again like it happened after Heracles!”

“Now where the hell are we?” he wondered out loud, shading his eyes with his hand to see afar

“I do not recognize these waters…” Eurylochus said apprehensively, joining them, “I see no land around”

“But I do, look!” Odysseus pointed out

Eurylochus squinted his eyes to see (Odysseus feared that he was becoming a bit near-sighted with age. He was actually surprised his own eyes remained sharp as always). Indeed there was a land formation coming up from before them.

“You’re right!” Eurylochus said excited, “Finally we get some land to stop! Inspect the damages”

Odysseus leaned against the hull in deep thought.

“Last night the skies were dark. I couldn’t use the stars for guidance but the last time we were in Troy we had southern wind. It didn’t seem to change drastically so we should be heading north”

“You think of the island of Tenedos?” Polites asked

“No, this seems longer coastline than that. From where I am standing, looks like the mainland.”

“Hold on, are you telling me we are heading to Thrace?” Eurylochus suddenly seemed worried

“Most likely” Odysseus agreed gloomily

“Dammit!” Eurylochus mumbled, “We are heading towards enemy land again, then?”

“Perhaps. Not all Thracian tribes sided with the Trojans at the war but, truth to be told, they did support the Amazon raid. They didn’t have a reason to stand against them”

“So, in short, we’re screwed?”

“Perhaps…” Odysseus mumbled again feeling nauseous once more, “Perhaps not”

“Either way, we have no choice” Polites stated the obvious; “We need to stop to land. Our provisions are not enough to support us till the islands the way we are and we will need to inspect the hulls and ropes”

“Yeah…” Odysseus agreed, “Elpenor, jump on the craw’s nest! Your younger eyes will be useful now! Tell me what you see!”

Elpenor immediately obeyed, climbing to the mast from the ropes. He might have been the youngest but also he did have some good geography knowledge. Odysseus appreciated that. He looked towards the horizon and soon enough he could detect taller walls around a city, no doubt, surrounded with mountains. He didn’t need to have knowledge to know what it was.

“ISMARUS!” He announced on top of his lungs, “ISMARUS!”

“Shit!” Eurylochus mumbled banging the hull of the ship

Odysseus had to agree. They didn’t know much on Ismarus apart from its strategic importance for the Thracians. However he also knew that the people in it were called Cicones, the tribe of people that was spread across Thrace but called Ismarus some sort of capital city for them. He also knew they didn’t like to share their wealth with outsiders and they had no reason to like the Greeks. Quite frankly, they preferred to guarantee a safe passage to the Amazons for Troy rather than sheltering the Greeks on their way there. Once more he gagged, for some reason, causing Polites to try and support him at the sudden move but this time it was certain there was nothing in his stomach to come out so he just sighed to collect himself.

“Damn…” he mumbled more to himself than anybody else, mopping some sweat off his forehead with his hand

“Do you need some wine?”

“No, thanks Polites. I am fine. This is just a….reminder. No worries”

The land of Thrace came in sight and so did the walls of Ismarus. Odysseus could see from afar that the walls were consisted on a rough stone base and clay and wooden upper parts. He rubbed his beard in thought. He could see the smokes of the chimneys too. He couldn’t see much from inside the city itself but he noticed some clay outlines of the houses and some hay roofs like an average coastline city. It was nothing like the strong structure of Troy that was for sure. The city was built almost directly on the beach, making the position really strategic for someone who wanted to connect themselves with the sea, however the back was protected from the winds by the rough Thracian mountains. In theory it was cutting the line of escape from the people who wanted to flee from an upcoming catastrophe of their city. He gasped at his thoughts.

“What in the blasted hells of Tartarus am I thinking?! We just got out of a slaughter of a city and all I can think of is what we can use if we need to raid this place! What’s wrong with me!?”

The war was still in his system, he knew. Sacker of Cities, that’s how they called him back in Troy. Apparently he was thinking like one all the time now. Apparently his men were reading his thoughts or they were having a similar train themselves for Polites came close to him, leaning his large body next to him to the ledge.

“What do you think, Odysseus? Shall we raid this city?”

Odysseus scoffed and forced a smirk to his face.

“You just got out of war, Polites and you already fear you are losing your touch?”

“I’m just saying” Polites shrugged

“Polites is right up to one point, Odysseus” Eurylochus agreed, “The Cicones have no reason to offer us anything and they are half-barbarians. Maybe they do not know the customs of hospitality”

“Don’t they worship Apollo as their patron god?” Odysseus pointed out

“Irrelevant” Eurylochus pointed out, “They didn’t help us at the war now did they? They guaranteed passage to the enemy”

“I mean, who wouldn’t be afraid of the Amazons, Eurylochus?”

Odysseus stretched himself, breathing in the air.

“Either way we need to stop and inspect the damages. I say we send an embassy and ask for Xenia before we do something.”

“They won’t give it”

“Irrelevant. We need to go by the traditions that separate us from the barbarians, Eurylochus. If they push us too hard, we will make this place burn!”

The words came to his mouth much easier than what he thought they would. Sacker of Cities then…what people in Troy chanted about him was true after all.

“Should we announce our presence then?” Eurylochus snickered

“Oh, I am sure they know we are here. They saw us coming from a mile away! Our crimson sails are not exactly a discreet sight and they have a clear view at the sea!”

As if on the cue there was a shine or sheen of metal coming from the wall. A watchman had moved. Odysseus knew they knew they were here. So far so good, he thought, we shall tie to the bay, go about our business like nothing happens and ask for a share. If that doesn’t happen then damned this city be! They indeed beached their ships and climbed down to inspect. To their good luck most of the parts of the ship were intact. Just a few repairs to the ropes and all would be done; all would be as good as new.

“Gear up, just in case” suddenly Odysseus ordered, “We have company”

A neighing horse was what got their attention, when they managed to catch a glimpse of a man riding like the wind towards the city. Great…Odysseus thought, the meeting would happen sooner than expected. He caught a glimpse of Eurylochus reaching for his hunting bow. He stopped him with his strong hand upon the wood.

“Easy there, Eurylochus!” he said strictly, “Hold your blood lust for now and wait for it. We are being announced”

“But…we are helpless!”

“We are over 500 men experienced in war with our equipment intact. We must not act like headless chicken. But prepare yourselves just in case. Shooting the man now, will bring warriors at our steps, not ambassadors”

Apparently he was right for after a few hours, while he and his men were eating some dried fruit and bread they had with them, they heard the horses once more but this time they were more than one. Odysseus eyed them and placed the helm over his brow. He nodded to Polites and Eurylochus to come closer and to one or two captains from the other ships. They approached the riders on foot. Odysseus noticed their colorful clothing and their tattooed bodies. His resolve that they would actually give them hospitality was not determined in the first place but now he was almost certain they wouldn’t.

“Hello there!” he greeted the entourage, “I hope I am speaking to an embassy of peace. We are travelers and we seek shelter”

The man on the horse didn’t come down. He only barked some words in his dialect, which Odysseus didn’t recognize to its totality.

“Look…given that we do not speak your language and I can possibly recognize one or two words here and there, I suggest you to bring us an interpreter if we are to talk openly here”

He didn’t know if that was what his tone was doing; maybe he was coming off as more aggressive as he wanted to, the man on the horse spat at his feet. Odysseus looked up at him.

“Great…” he mumbled ironically, “This negotiation will not get us far. I seek passage for myself and my men. In the name of Zeus and Xenia. We bring gifts to exchange. We desire only provisions and hospitality”

“I will give you gifts!” said the man in his heavy Thracian accent

“Ah, marvelous. So you DO speak our language” Odysseus said mockingly again, “We are making progress”

“Your banner I recognize!” the man said again in his broken Common Greek, “You raid Troy, that did you!”

Oh shit… Odysseus thought. Our reputation precedes us. The man seemed furious.

“Outsiders have no place here. More Greeks who raided Troy!”

Odysseus’s eyes darkened. It was as if just the mere mention of Troy was bringing all his blood to his head; making his pulse practically hammering inside his eardrum.

“I understand you despise us and our nation, that much is as apparent as the sun above, my dear friend. I wouldn’t make such preposterous offer unless it was of outmost importance and a matter of survival for me and my men. You protect your city and I protect them. Our interests should be aligned instead of colliding”

Odysseus realized that war was inside him. He knew the man was not fluent in Greek so he felt like using every official or long word he knew, hoping to confuse him, impress him or piss him off even further. He didn’t know which. Apparently happened the latter for the man spat at his feet once more, glaring daggers at them.

“You and your kin go!” the Cicones ambassador roared, “We give no shelter to traitors here!”

“Careful, my dear man” Odysseus now replied feeling his patience running short, “Zeus punishes those who disobey his law! And you speak to those who, as you said, stepped their feet into the holy castle of Troy! Your little town will not be that difficult to take, that much I guarantee you!”

“Leave this place!” the man replied

He stirred his horses and trotted away. Odysseus remained silent for a second. Yes, the insult was great to take, even if he deep down knew indeed they had no reason to like them in the first place.

“Captain” Eurylochus spoke again, “Shall we gather up the captains and negotiate our next move?”

A tiny essence of smirk played to the corner of his lips. He wasn’t sure if it was some weird eagerness and battle fever or whether it was just himself being sarcastic at his own attachment to that. Either way his eyes followed the trotting entourage of Thracians going back to their city.

“Sure…why not?” he heard himself whisper.

*

“The city doesn’t seem overly protected” one of the captains pointed out, “That could indicate protection from the inside. I am not sure if I would risk a confrontation at the walls”

“I double that” another one said watching at the rough sketch of the area they drew upon the sand, “Maybe we can lure them out at the field”

“Haven’t you seen them?” Eurylochus pointed out, “They don’t use carriages or chariots. They fight directly from the horses! Odysseus’s chariot was damaged into the storm but even if it was ready now it will be hard for it to navigate at the plain”

“Odysseus, how many people do you estimate the city to have?” one of the captains asked

“Hard to tell” the king of Ithaca admitted, “The city seems well-built but not too big. Worst case scenario it would be of around 4000 people”

“The odds would still be 4-1” Eurylochus pointed out, “We are not enough for it. The odds are not bad but they are not very good either”

“Indeed which is why I hope the most optimistic estimation is the correct one. Let’s say around 2000 people”

“But, Odysseus you count in women and children?” Polites asked

“Yeah that’s right. If we say they are around 2000 in there then logically half should be women and children”

“That leaves is around 1000 men and possibly a portion of them are warriors”

“That makes the odds 2-1” Eurylochus spoke again, “Sounds much better for us”

“Yes…if they remain within the walls…”

“We must send a scout team just in case, to see the weaknesses around it”

“Guys!” Polites now came in, “We are talking as if we shall begin the attack already!”

“Do you see another option, Polites?”

Odysseus hummed in thought.

“Well…in theory we could avoid the bloodshed if we took the course across the mainland or till we meet the islands…”

He made a move with his hand as if saying “maybe”

“How many provisions do we have?”

“Maybe for one week?” Polites suggested, “And that would be if we reduced our food to the minimum and hunted”

“In a Cicones forest?” Odysseus commented, “Right…”

“Perhaps fishing then?”

“That could work but it is not sustainable on the long run” Odysseus thought out loud, “We have also the slaves, the men and the horses to feed. In theory we could make it to another port before our provisions ran out but…”

“What guarantee do we have that we won’t run in the same problem?” Eurylochus pointed out

“Exactly. And besides…” once more that almost automatic smirk played to the edge of his lips, “The refusal of hospitality when someone makes plead to the gods has consequences. They know it! There is plenty of food there for sharing and we have things to return their hospitality with but…”

He hit his fist on the ground.

“Yes, I believe we must charge as soon as possible while the sword is flaming hot!”

“What are you planning?” Eurylochus asked again, “Surround the city?”

“It could work but we will run out of provisions before they do and we are cut off from the rest of the world here. I will not risk it all in a siege”

“And I refuse to spend another day waiting for cities to fall! I’ve had enough! Gods refuse to help us. We need to do something of the situation we got ourselves through. Our men are too many to feed. I cannot risk another open sea passage!”

He caught himself making excuses about it to himself; as if trying to justify the actions that he was already planning but in the end of the day perhaps it was true after all; he was the Sacker of Cities; a man of war. Perhaps that was what was left of him after the massacre…after all the atrocities he had to indoctrinate or perform in the holy city of Ilium. Athena was by his side back then; other gods were as well. He knew it was wrong what happened and yet the gods were with them. He didn’t understand why now…why now they refused to hear his prayers or rather he didn’t want to accept that the whole ploy would turn against the entire fleet and not just against him! He was afraid and worried; what if that indeed befell upon his family? What if the sin he prayed so much to Athena to protect his family from was to be fulfilled? What if Athena didn’t heed his desperate plea at Troy? Because Achilles wanted a concubine and because Calchas couldn’t keep his mouth shut!

“Agamemnon! Gods, Agamemnon now I understand you! This man predicted not a single good thing for us in his entire life! He made us both monsters who sacrifice virgins to the void! Cursed his name! Cursed his legacy!”

Polites smirked, unaware of the turmoil in his soul.

“That’s right! We have Odysseus with us! He took Troy in one night! I am sure this will be child’s play for him!”

“Why, thanks for the faith, Polites…” Odysseus said ironically, “I hope I will live up to your expectations!”

“You already have a plan?” Erilochus now pitched in, flabbergasted

“Perhaps…” Odysseus murmured thoughtfully, rubbing his beard, “I might have something but we need to organize ourselves quick”

“Yes sir!”

“And we kill no women and children!” Odysseus said, his eyes suddenly darkening

“Polyxena…Astyanax…Hecuba… No! No more women and children! Penelope… My sweet Telemachus…Ma… No, no more women and children!”

“Yes sir” the others agreed

“No rapes, no violations! Am I clear?”

“Yes, sir”

“As for the city…”

He stopped. His eyes were bottomless. His heartbeat was steady. The nausea of guilt had passed; suddenly giving his gut the weird sensation of the bloodlust he felt in battle when fighting for his life. However now it felt different.

“…Burn it down!”

“Yes! Let it burn! This and all the allies of Troy! Cursed city! If only it was never founded by the immortals! If only it never rose again from the hands of mighty Heracles! Yes, let them burn! All of them!”

“Yes sir!”

Odysseus filled a cup of wine. He took half a sip and raised it up.

“And let the blood of their men be upon their hands! So it was written, let it be done!”

He poured the rest down to the sand. The red liquid was almost immediately absorbed in the golden sand of the unfriendly land. It only left a red stain behind.

Like the blood that was shed in war.

~*~*~*~

Cicones were tribes of Thrace and Thracians were known for their great skill in riding horses among others. The exact location of Ismarus is not known although it is connected to some landscapes in Thrace.

So arguably one of the most controversial to the modern eye action that Odysseus did after he left from Troy was the conquest of the city of Cicones Ismarus. I am surprised I do not see more people talk about it!

In the Odyssey, Odysseus doesn't specify the reasonings behind the attack but it is left to be assumed that it was for piracy; so that they would plunder provisions for the safe passage. I tried to see how that would befall so I started the story with the general outline and then try to figure out how they would go.

Odysseus referring to the contempt and to Adromache or even to some events, it is a wink to my story Guilt Part2 The momet of madness of Hecuba are based on sources such as the tragedy Hecuba and other roman sources but also a wink to a fic that I had in mind for the far future, kinda like a light spoiler.

Like before as I mentioned to my gift story to @dionysism once more got inspired by the same composer Kostas Kapnisis for this one. Specifically for the scene where the Cicones spy runs to warn the city, I was inspired by the piece "Ξεσηκωμός" ("Rise Up"):

Language or dialect barrier between Thracians and Odysseus was just another thing I thought I could add to make the story more believable. Also Odysseus being kinda an ass as well even if he is suffering deep down.

Usually I do depict his positive traits and sneak in his negative (for example in my story about their escape from Polyphemus). So now we have also a bit more negative traits with sneaking in some positive as well.

The Cicones being a potential ally of Troy or at least assisting them is purely my invention here in an essence that Thrace and places like Themyscyra (if that is among the Skythians) are close to each other geographically and potentially culturally too at some cases.

Odysseus mentions "more than 500 men" because undoubtedly they did suffer losses at Troy. Just the bare minimum they could (probably around 10% of them or around 80 men)

Part 2 might be coming back soon.

Sorry if I forget anyone.

A small mention to amazing people that honored me with comments, feedback or reblogs before:

@simugeuge @loco-bird @smokey07 @adrift-in-thyme @marieisnothere12 @dilutedh2so4 @freetyphoonglitter @tunguszka20 @ilov3b00kss0much @fangirlofallthefanthings @cr4zy-cycl0n3 @superkooku @shafeeyaart @hermesmoly @insomniphic @blueflipflops @venomspecs @theyugiohfanartistwritersblog

[nknoxe-n]

・❥・Heliotrope and Orange Lilies

Synopsis: Having an argument with their s/o, who started it, what do they do to earn forgiveness or need for them to forgive you?

Warnings: [mental health] [slight toxic behaviour] [pre established relationship]

w.c 1k

You started it:

Isagi Yoichi: He is a very dedicated man, green flag all over, but everyone makes mistakes, and Isagi's biggest flaw is that he gets way too distracted by soccer. When a big match is coming up, he will start neglecting his partner more so he can focus on getting better and winning. This will lead you to an argument 9/10, but he's been working on it, but he just can't help but forget about his life when soccer is so important to him. When Isagi knows he's hurt your feelings by becoming distant he tries to make up for it in quality time, you have his full attention all day, all week even. He's taking every second he can to be spending time with you to make it up to you.

Itoshi Rin: He has emotional relapses, ig that's what you'd call it? Sometimes he gets so caught up in his head and way of thinking he'll convince himself that he isn't good enough for you and that you're going to leave him like his brother did so to save himself the hurt he'll distance himself from you, nothing like Isagi does, Rin will actively avoid you, won't text you back or even talk to you for weeks if he can help it. This of course results in an argument, and he will struggle hard to make it up to you, he's still pretty convinced he isn't enough, but he'll try and have a heart-to-heart with you and spend time with you to get your forgiveness.

Kuniami Rensuke: He used to be so loving and kind, he really was the perfect boyfriend but after the Blue Lock program something about him changed, he didn't really seem to care about as much as he used to, he also oddly enough wasn't very keen on receiving affection gestures anymore, physical or verbal. When you tried to ask him about it one time he brushed you off and of course you can't leave things at that so you keep pushing for an answer, and he snaps at you, and you do not let that shit slide, which turns into one of the first arguments you've ever had with him. When realizing he was in the wrong he tries to make it up to you by going out for a very simplistic date, something you two used to always do, and he tries to communicate with you about how he feels, although he's not very good about it, he's trying his best.

Nagi Seishiro: He was lazy, when Reo wasn't around to do it for him, it was like you were his personal maid, he asked you to make food for him, clean his room sometimes and honestly Reo was your god send taking up quite a few of those tasks you had to do without any sort of appreciation. There was a point where you couldn't take it anymore and lashed out at him, you weren't just a friend, or a hired service, you were his partner and deserved to be treating like it. He really, really struggles to make things good between you two, he doesn't understand fully how you feel since he's always felt kind of emotionally distant, but he tries making an effort to do things for himself more often and give a lot more verbal affection, he even tried taking up one of your hobbies but messed up so badly he never told you he even tried.

He started it:

Shidou Ryusei: He is brash, erratic, and he does things on a whim not taking to account for your feelings very often, most things are very 'casual' to him between the two of you. We've all seen he's quick to anger, so in one scenario where he's been trying to drag you along to do god knows what, and you keep being stubborn saying you have plans? He kinda freaks out in an, albeit short, burst of anger, he feels like you don't want to be around him and to earn his forgiveness you MUST take time off of whatever you do to spend a whole day with him. The second scenario is when you try to be intimate, nothing sexual just intimate and romantic, he kind of struggles with the reality he's in a committed relationship and almost feels repulsed, he doesn't understand why but intimacy of any sort makes him pull away slightly and there isn't anything you can do to help but give him time.

Chigiri Hyoma: He gets insecure sometimes, he's usually super confident, and he knows how good he looks, how well he plays, and how good of a boyfriend he is. But there are times when he sees you getting attention from other people, I mean, how couldn't you? You were stunning, drop-dead perfect, but he can't help but feel slightly insecure, that maybe one of these people could preform better than him. Chigiri reacts on impulse and half accuses you of wanting someone else but immediately shuts up, he started the short-lived argument but wants your forgiveness, he feels guilty for being so brash and talks it out with you. He also does an 'at home spa day' to try and cheer you up.

Bachira Meguru: Now Bachira is sometimes a bit much, he's a chatterbox and a constant buzz of excitement, he constantly needs your attention, or he feels like you don't love him, he wants to be clinging to you often as possible. No sane person can really keep up with the level he's on without getting a little worn out or frustrated, so when you start to mellow out and stop matching his enthusiasm he doesn't get mad, but he gets upset. He'll wake you up in the middle of the night, face filled with tears you can't see, but you can hear it in his voice, he'll keep asking if you love him anymore and apologizing for being annoying. Reassure him and explain to him the truth so he doesn't overthink and everything will be okay.

[pumpkinmetaphor]

im pretty sure its a running joke in the kyokao fandom that they actively make each other worse which i think is absolutely hilarious (because like, yeah annoying capitalist x annoying capitalist) but what are some of the ways you think they improve each other? :D /gen

Great question!

I think Kyoya makes Kaoru more ambitious. Kaoru is smart enough to skirt by most of the time without much effort or forethought. I would not hesistate to believe that he and Hikaru are only doing like half their subjects and then taking tests for each other. I also think Kaoru is immature and nebulous about the future and what he wants from it.

Someone like Kyoya, who is very goal oriented and future focused would be somewhat of a motivating factor. Hikaru and Kaoru's decision to go to Tokyo University is more triggered by Haruhi and Nanako than Kyoya's still pending decision to stay in Boston, but I think Kyoya seeing what he wants and going for it is impressive. I think Kaoru would take his work more seriously, maybe take more of an interest in the business side of things if Kyoya made it more fun.

Meanwhile, I think Kaoru would motivate Kyoya to reevaluate what he thinks freedom means. Freedom is Kaoru's family motto and something Kyoya strives for and thinks he has- but has he? I think in the same way Tamaki makes him reevaluate the box his father has put him in, Kaoru would help recontextualise that a bit more. Yes, you don't have to be trapped in the expectations of your birthright, but maybe you don't need to be beholden to anyone's expectations of you- Kyoya himself said it doesn't matter as long as the people he cares about knows who he is, so maybe he should live by that instead.

The host club in general convinces Kyoya to have a bit more fun, but I think even Kaoru's specific situation- overshadowed by his elder brother, possibly disinherited due to reasons unrelated to merit- and the fact that Kaoru would be entirely unbothered by it would allow Kyoya to maybe reevaluate his options and pick ones that allow him that freedom. After all, those who live freely are the winners, right? And Kyoya wants to win.

I think this "Kaoru makes Kyoya a freer spirit" stops slightly short of Kaoru getting him on a motorbike at any point.

Basically, I think they mellow each other out. Kaoru works harder, Kyoya becomes less of a workaholic. Kaoru becomes a little more self-possessed, Kyoya becomes a little bit freer.

I also think, as me and @pilindiel were only discussing earlier, they mesh pretty well with each other's anxieties. They're two people who believe that they can only be love for the mask they put on, and two people who quite easily see through each other's masks. As long as the people you care about know who you are, nothing else matters- is as much about Kaoru as it is about Kyoya. It's an inadvertant, egotistical admission by Kyoya that he does know who Kaoru is and Kaoru does care about him, and vice a versa. Platonically, and bewildering to Kaoru at this point, but important nonetheless. Kyoya proves his point by even saying it and articulating it as a viewpoint that Kaoru would share- because he does know who Kaoru is, and nothing else about it matters.

But yeah, Kyoya believes that it is more important for the people he cares about to know him than it is for them to love him. And Kaoru is kind of into the whole evil scheming ambition thing so that negates that concern. And Kaoru meanwhile is terrified of being made obsolete and being left behind. Which is negated somewhat by Kyoya being the kind of guy with the dedication to stick to his convictions, one of which he has decided is the perpetuity of the host club. And one would be Kaoru too, of course.

Also just tacking on at the end because I'm rambling too much. I think Kyoya would make Kaoru more independent-- something Kaoru already strives for a bit more of, but there's nothing like giving someone a reason not to share a bedroom with their sibling anymore as that final push. And I think Kaoru would encourage Kyoya to be less self-isolating, less of a lone wolf. Mainly because he likes getting into other people's business. Kaoru loves teamwork <- freak.

[yanderes-galore]

Oooh how about yandere scenario where Macaque grows obsessed with the platonic female travel healer reader who’s also a monkey demon , who was around him when he came back from the dead, and nurse him back to health, but what if reader had to leave after his treatment was done👀 (if you want to include a prompt , maybe 1 “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.” From ddarker-dreams)

I assume you meant they're both platonic with each other and not just the obsession being platonic. Either way, I struggled on this plot-wise... but I hope it came out okay.

Familiar Face

Yandere! Platonic! Macaque with Healer! Monkey Demon! Darling Scenario

Pairing: Platonic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Female Darling, Obsession, Manipulation, Clingy behavior, Possessive behavior, Macaque has a thing for scents, Kidnapping, Forced companionship.

Macaque was a face you haven't seen in a long time.

You already knew of him, as a fellow monkey demon you naturally knew of the others. You were on friendly terms with Wukong and Macaque when the two got along with one another. Yet after their falling out, and Macaque being sent to the Underworld to suffer, you took up the job of a wandering healer.

While Wukong became a hero as the Monkey King, you wandered the lands helping those in need. Many knew you as a helpful monkey demon compared to your more mischievous compatriots. Always finding those in need to help... before leaving on your way again.

You've had many patients. Human and demon alike. However... you don't think you could have ever been prepared for meeting who you did today.

Macaque himself, a thousand-yard stare on his face as he looks... lost? Confused?

You kept your distance until he collapsed on the ground, then you felt obligated to help.

Your usual routine was to set up a camp to help your patients. Quickly you got to work setting up a tent with two bedrolls before doing your best to pick up the other monkey demon. Once setting him inside... you got to work.

You started with an herbal remedy for exhaustion, making a tea before waking Macaque up. Naturally... your old friend was... combative. You should've expected that from someone supposedly straight out of the underworld.

It took a lot of reasoning, bickering, and some restraints before Macaque calmed down. It appeared the other monkey didn't recognize you at first. Yet once you calmed him and passed over your remedy, you saw a glint of recognition in his eyes.

There's a long silence as Macaque recovers. You let him keep quiet, sitting back in your tent as he sips your remedy. What feels like a half an hour passes before he acknowledges you properly.

"... So... it's you...?" Macaque murmurs, still recovering as he sips the tea you gave him. It's not entirely his thing but it is helping. You snort, looking him over as your tail sways.

"Yeah, you're lucky I crossed your path when I did...." You sigh, curiously watching the shadow monkey. "You aren't supposed to be here... How'd you even get here?"

There's a long awkward pause before Macaque laughs nervously.

"Long story! I guess you could say I got some help... I promise I'll... behave this time." Macaque laughs softly, although you can tell it's a bit forced. "Geez... You're doing this now? Running around doing...?"

"I help people, Macaque." You answer, checking over your supplies. "That's what I've chosen to dedicate my time to. I roam and help people."

"You're playing hero?" Macaque scoffs, immediately reminded of the fact you and Wukong got to be helpful while he was cast into the depths. "You taking after him?"

"It's nothing like that." You huff, sitting in front of him. Macaque can't help but watch you intently... despite the edge in his tone. "I get restless sitting still. People look to me for help. I enjoy doing that."

Macaque merely gives a grunt of disapproval as he curls his tail around himself. It was... pleasant to see a familiar face. He's just... envious he had to suffer for so long.

You're still just as helpful as he remembers... it's both pleasant and infuriating.

"Right, of course, free spirit and all...." Macaque murmurs, golden eyes trained on you before freezing when you came closer.

"I'm checking you over for wounds...." You reassure him, taking note of his suddenly flicking tail. "Stop acting so damn grumpy... I'm trying to help...."

Macaque is stunned by your comment but reluctantly relents. He can't deny he always enjoyed your scent and touch. You were always soothing... always easing his stress even around Wukong.

The word fate flashes into his mind but he flinches and ignores it. He was simply... lucky. Lucky to have met you again... one of his best companions...

Fate and destiny are such silly concepts.

But as Macaque lets you check him over, he can't help but... admire you still. You two weren't just on "friendly terms" to him. To him... you two were true friends.

Yet when he confronted Wukong and the two fought... He saw his female monkey friend nowhere.

At the time, and a little now, Macaque resented you for that. You were no doubt either told by Wukong to leave or were off helping someone else. All while Macaque was left to suffer without your presence.

Smelling your scent, the distinct scent of herbs and female monkey, only brought up memories. Memories of he, Wukong, and you together. Memories before all the hurt.

The thought nearly brings tears to his golden eyes but he hides it. He shakes a bit at the feeling, causing you to look up at him confused. Macaque merely glares... even when he doesn't mean it.

Having you help him felt like no coincidence...

If fate... destiny really brought you two together...

Macaque would be a fool to let you slip out of his grasp again.

---

Recovery didn't take long for Macaque. Yet the fellow mystic monkey managed to drag out your stay for an entire week and a half. He excused it as 'catching up'... all in hopes of seeing his healer monkey friend again.

You often monitored Macaque carefully throughout his recovery. While normally cunning and mischievous, he seemed strangely behaved with you. He took every remedy you gave him with no complaint and overall just acted playful.

It reminded you of old times when your only concerns was eating fruit with your friends. You could tell Macaque was particularly fond of those times. Throughout the week he kept bringing them up, smiling as he clung to you.

Your reunion was surprisingly sweet with him. You were so caught up in remembering those pleasant memories you nearly didn't notice his change in demeanor. The longer he was with you... the clingier he was.

Despite being friends, Macaque often wrapped his arms around you. His tail always right around your waist or entwined with your own. You don't recall him being this clingy before...

But you could only guess what he went through.

Your time with him was pleasant yet you couldn't shake the thought of there being something... off. Not only was his appearance suspicious, but he seemed way too... clingy. You enjoyed seeing your old friend again...

Yet you should really continue on your way....

"You're all healed." You comment, putting your things away. "It was nice to see you again, old friend... Behave, will you?"

Macaque watches you pack up your supplies, dread pooling in his gut for a moment. He... had originally made it his goal to get revenge on Wukong... but he didn't want you to leave. He should let you leave and go about his original plan...

Yet the idea of losing your scent, your warmth...

You freeze when Macaque grabs your tail, peeking over your shoulder. He forces a grin when you glance back at him. You feel intimidated immediately as his grip tightens.

"Leaving so soon, friend?" Macaque purrs playfully, his voice barely hiding a dangerous tone. "I thought you liked me around?

"Macaque, let me go. We'll meet again some other day..." You reason, only for Macaque to shake his head with a chuckle.

"Sorry, girl..." Macaque whispers, pulling you close. "Don't think I can let you do that...."

"Let go, Macaque...!" You growl, earning another chuckle from the shadow behind you.

"Why ever would I do that?" Macaque muses, slinking in front of you. "Don't you know I missed you, my friend? I missed the girl of our mystic friend group... and how she always helped people..."

Macaque steps closer, his stance predatory.

"Even if the person she helped was dangerous..." Macaque coos, leaning in to place a hand on your shoulder. "She still helped... even if it got her into trouble... isn't that right, friend?"

"Wh—?" You go to respond, yet dark hands erupt from your own shadow and trap you. You struggle the best you can, panicking. Macaque only watches with a grin, tail swaying.

"So sorry to do this... but I can't just let you go now, can I?" Macaque pouts, circling you. "I haven't seen you for what feels like millennium. Being lonely really hurts...."

Macaque then embraces you from the front after he finishes his circle, his tail wrapping around yours securely.

"Don't you know we were meant to meet again?" Macaque whispers with a mischievous grin. "You were meant to help me. Us, two friends, together again...!"

You still try to struggle, but Macaque's grip tightens.

"Afraid I can't let you go anywhere, friend." Macaque purrs, patting your head.

"You're stuck with me now... destiny demands it...." Macaque hums, playful as he nuzzles into your fur.

"You've always been too naive for your own good... Helping people can be dangerous, y'know...!"

[https-sourlimes]

home meals with you! . . .

featuring – aventurine x gn!reader

synopsis: there was a lot going on in his head... perhaps he thought, your cooking was too good for him, and he never deserved you at all...

consist of: 1k2+ word vomit... aventurine is a nervous emotional wreck, and if i say it's angst to fluff would you believe me? mentions of food, and marriage (champagne problems referred iykyk), domestic life w aven.

sincere regards to my pookie @akutasoda for helping me brainstorm an idea and proofreading; my favourite aventurine kisser @theother-victoria for proofreading <33

quality time was the love language that AVENTURINE did not know that he possessed. he never knew a thing or two of the reason why or when it started, but when he stirred awake by the warmth of sunlight streaming down his face, patting on the mattress beside him then found it empty, he'd end up dozing off again on his belly in your secured arms when he found you by the living room's couch; his weekend was dedicated to you, and he just wanted you with him, to selfishly ask for the affection that you showered on him always and think it would never be enough.

spoiling you until he's broken broke is what aventurine concepts. to him, gift giving is the effortless love language that he can express, whilst the four remains never worked out on the aventurine who lived in the orbit of lies and contract. he thought that it'll be easier that way, and he is slowly letting love once again thaw away his dense heart, and the one who did it so perfectly, much to his expectations, was you. then, to his surprise, the idea of you demanding shiny, glamorous luxuries or brands vanished when he found himself with you in the oti mall, browsing by the groceries, picking up the fresh ingredients of your liking, instead.

"i love homemade meals," you told him – and aventurine couldn't help the fond smile he was wearing when he looked at you tiptoeing to reach the higher shelves for the pasta box of your favourite and the childish excitement in your eyes as you skip back to him to show him what you got. and then suddenly, aventurine feels like he loves homemade meals, too.

does the image of you – putting your hand around his arm, aimlessly strolling through the shop while he was pushing the cart, your thoughts were elsewhere between the ingredients of the upcoming meal and never noticing that you were making his stomach churn – thrive him? i bet it does. because he can not concentrate, his eyes fixed on you, nodding mindlessly to whatever you're planning to make tonight (it doesn't matter because he will swallow it whole) then find the lamest excuses to kiss you, your hair, your face to satisfy his most intrusive demands. you are the biggest treasure that he has ever prevailed, he noted. you were trusting him entirely, giving unconditional love, staying by his side. how can he possibly live without you? you're driving him nuts!

and when aventurine's tongue touched the first bite of anything you made, sweets or savouries, he imagined filling his stomach full with your unyielding love, the one that undoubtedly never failed to remind him that he was yours truly to be cherished, to be taken care of. undeserving of you? yes, inevitably, or maybe that was just his thoughts; so aventurine found himself savouring every moment with you in the kitchen, invading your attempts to cook and stealing kisses, he knew he was going to dedicate the rest of his life to the person he intended to marry and to love you harder than you do to him.

aventurine never dares to dream about a family with you, he couldn't bring himself to crave it when the past of failing to protect his own in sigonia haunted him like some sort of ghost, everything feels illegal. the thoughts exiled the golden boy in prison of indecision and despair,... and then he stumbles upon the last words leaving his mouth when you mention wanting a betrothal life with him. he didn't feel ready yet – he'd fail you, (at first!), and it was disheartening. you said you understood and were there with him the entire time, but aventurine knew he was the problem, not you.

aventurine wanted to confide in you that he would be lying if he said his eyes weren't tearing up at the sight of you waiting patiently until he is ready, until he surpassed all of his trauma and reached his final decision. he knew he never deserved you, no matter how hard you'd been trying to make him feel like he did, he would then die for you, gambled all of his existence over again just to lose it all to your overpower love.

aventurine was a coward, he claimed. he couldn't bring his messed up life that once considered so insignificant that it was traded as some goods up for auction, and a chip he brought to bet in his high stakes with treacherous risks to dedicate to you, it was unfair for you, he couldn't be selfish. it was excruciating that he couldn't refrain himself from basking in your unconditional love, even if, to him, it was forbidden.

and when he had you pressed against the wall, aventurine lifted your chin up and kissed you fiercely with the best of gratitude and love, mostly to shut you up and to soothe his aching heart when he heard you repeat that you understood with that agonizing voice once again, aventurine said he was sorry, that he would do better and sort this out quickly to make everything up to you properly. it pained him to see you wait so voluntarily for him, he was trapped with hesitation, between letting himself love you with his entirely heart and the thought that you'd definitely deserve someone better than him?

but when on a beautiful friday, aventurine's heart burned selfishly with the swelling sight of you, wearing an apron so breathtakingly, humming to your favourite song on the phone sat beside the counter, the delicious aroma you're stirring filled his senses, his breath hitched, it felt like as if you had already been his spouse, cooking dinner, waiting for their husband to be home, and to his utmost selfish thought that spoke louder than all of his logical minds, just, what if... someday you got tired and gave up on him? would he be able to see you looking like this ever again?

"Kakavasha..."

he opened his eyes, the real name of his that you let slip so easily from your soft lips felt like a salvation; he hummed in response, gently holding your hand on his face as you looked down at the sleepy man on your lap. aventurine caressed the shiny cold material with a small exclusive gem he selected himself attatched on top of it that wrapped perfectly around your ring finger, contentment was written all across his face. ah, yes... he has been sleeping in his spouse's lap, no?

"can you please get up? it's almost past lunch and we haven't had anything properly," you sigh, the chuckle you let out helplessly.

aventurine stirred slightly before lazily sitting up, scooting closer and snaking his arms around you, holding you snuggled against him while he buried his face in your hair, sinking entirely in your presence.

"mhm... sit still. just a little longer. lunch can wait, i'll swallow them whole everything you make, anyway."

So if, once again, your husband dozed off on your lap on a calming sunday morning, make sure to do something with it. if not, please be prepared and stay strong with a clear mind or you'd end up getting charmed by his antics which he knew so well that it touched right in the soft spot for only him in you. (or you might as well pay him back with your own cooking technique, one of the reasons he married you home and loved you so good...)

© 2024 https-sourlimes. all rights reserved. (banner source: aventurine's eidolons 5 from official honkai: star rai art)

ending notes: *sigh* this man is making me feeling things. ❤️‍🩹 and tagging @synqiri because this cutie asked to be here <33

[bunniidollii]

jj knew what he was doing was sleazy and perverted, he knew it was wrong. he just couldn’t find himself in it to care anymore. it was a need, an insatiable need to have you in all the ways he imagined when twitter lacked. soon though, imagination wasn’t enough, and he had to resort to bringing up your instagram on his phone, instantly scrolling down to find any revealing pictures of in a bikini. at first he felt dirty, but each night he repeated the act until simple beach day dumps weren’t doing it for him anymore. any chance he could get, jj had his phone on you, capturing innocent moments that he would later reframe in his head to fit the perverse sexual fantasies he’s come up with. all this under the pretence of ‘capturing the moment’ or ‘appreciating whatever life gives us’, which left the rest of the pogues scoffing at the hidden message that you couldn’t seem to get. soon his camera roll was filled with pictures and videos of you that seemed innocent, but with a closer look anyone (but you perhaps) could tell what was really going on in his mind. a photo of you enjoying an ice cream in the hot sun, vanilla dripping down your fingers. another of you looking up at him from the couch with you’re pretty doe-like eyes, mouth slightly open in shock at having your photo taken unexpectedly. there were enough photos of you in your bathing suit for jj to have an entire album dedicated to them, your naïveté at the situation always turning him on a little more. surely you knew by now, there was no way he could be coincidental catching you in sexual moments so often. like when jj off-handedly mentioned he liked girls in pink, the next day you showed up subtly adorned with the colour that had the blonde swooning, or the fact that you keep ‘forgetting’ to lock the bathroom door. he was tempted to push it further, see just how far he could push it before you caught on, but he was always faced with slight resistance, a moral battle as he went over the boundaries of a best friend. the moment jj knew he’d crossed that line was during a normal boat trip through the marsh when he spotted pink lace poking out of your tote bag. the obvious delicacy of the material had him snatching and stashing them in his pocket when no one was looking. knowing that later he’d have your panties fisted in his right hand as he looked through the latest additions to his album.

[pastelwitchling]

I have an angsty prompt that has been on my mind for awhile.

Alex blames himself for Jesse ruining Michael's hand.

So, when he loses his leg it feels like some sort of karmic retribution. Alex feels like he deserved it. Michael finds out that Alex feels this way and loses his fuckin' mind.

@ashleymarie1684

***

Alex was a very protective person. It had taken Michael a good few years to notice that, while he and Alex had been keeping a distance between them that neither of them had wanted, Alex had been fighting like hell on the sidelines to make sure Michael was always safe. It was like a splash of cold water to find out that Alex’s reenlistment, his entire year dismantling Project Shepherd, his whole fight against his father and the courage he’d built to do it in the first place had been for Michael.

He should’ve been smug and basking in the attention, but it was humbling to know how much Alex dedicated himself to him.

“Tell me what you want,” he said one morning into Alex’s hair. They were having their usual lazy Sunday, lying across the couch while an old Disney movie played, with Alex stretched out on Michael’s chest, his ear against Michael’s heartbeat and his eyes fluttering as he gently dozed off to the warm autumn morning.

"Hmm?"

Michael smiled against Alex’s crown. He rarely got to see his love this relaxed, and it was so gratifying to know he could only do it because he was so at peace here, in Michael’s arms. Michael tightened his hold on him, and buried his face in Alex’s hair.

Alex chuckled sleepily. “Are you smelling me?”

“What? Like I’ve never done it?”

He burst into giggles. “That’s not an excuse!” but he cuddled deeper into Michael’s chest anyway, tightening his arms around his waist.

Michael closed his eyes and held him tight. He loved him. He loved him he loved him he loved him, he loved him so much it hurt. He’d felt this intense, overwhelming need for Alex since he was seventeen, but he’d thought that after getting to have him in every possible way, he’d thought that after marriage, that need would dim or be a little more manageable. Instead, Michael felt suffocated by it, like no matter how much he kissed Alex, how hard he squeezed him, how much he worshipped his body and mind and heart and soul – there was never going to be a release. He hoped there wasn’t.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeated. “For your birthday next month, Alex, tell me what you want.”

Alex groaned under his breath. “Who cares?” he mumbled.

“I care, smartass,” he said, and Alex’s body shook with quiet laughter. Michael was going to die. “Tell me. Whatever it is, it’s yours.”

“Okay,” he said. “You. I want you.”

Michael dug his fingers into Alex’s ribs. “You already have me. Pick something else.”

“No.”

“Alex, just tell me what you want.”

“You.”

“You’re such a bastard.”

“I only want you.”

“Pick something else,” he said, “or I’ll stop cuddling you.”

Alex scoffed, completely unthreatened at Michael’s bluff. “Yeah, okay.” He squeezed Michael tighter anyway.

“I’m in a good mood,” Michael said, slipping a hand into Alex’s hair and trying not to moan at the soft strands. “I will literally give you anything you ask for. Think.”

Alex thought. Michael wondered if he would just refuse to answer, or maybe he would insist on his original response, but slowly, Alex looked up at him, folding his hands on Michael’s chest and resting his chin there.

“Anything?”

He was still smiling, but some of the humor in his voice was gone. Michael knew that whatever he said next was going to be important.

He traced a hand down to Alex’s jaw, and his heart thrashed in his chest when his husband’s eyes closed and he followed the touch. Michael bent down to briefly press his lips to Alex’s.

“Anything,” he swore in a whisper.

Alex’s eyes were still closed, and he took a second to swallow before he said, “I want you to forgive me.”

Michael’s brows furrowed. “For what, baby?”

Alex’s shoulders fell, like he didn’t think he would actually have to say it, but he covered Michael’s hand on his cheek, side-eying it pointedly. Michael’s heart fell into his stomach.

“That’s not funny, Alex.”

“Michael, you don’t have to do that,” he said quietly, looking down onto Michael’s chest, his hand still holding Michael’s own. “You don’t have to pretend anymore.”

“Pretend?”

“That it wasn’t my fault,” he said. Michael stopped breathing. “You don’t have to pretend you don’t blame me –”

“Did I ever say anything to make you think that?”

Alex clenched his jaw, and shook his head. “N-Never mind, forget it.”

“Alex –”

“I – I was kidding,” he started sitting up, terrifying Michael. “Just forget it.”

“Where are you going? Don’t get up,” he said, grabbing Alex’s arm and pulling him back in against him. “Don’t pull away like that.” He cupped his cheeks. “C’mon, just talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, I’m sorry I brought it up.”

“I’m not,” he insisted, taking Alex’s chin between his fingers and forcing their gazes to meet. “Alex, why would you think what happened to my hand was your fault?”

Alex shrugged, and for a second, he didn’t look like he would say, then, so quietly that Michael almost missed it, he murmured –

“That’s why we were apart so long, wasn’t it?” Even quieter, “That’s why you chose Maria?”

Michael stared. He wanted to reassure Alex that he had never chosen Maria, that everything he’d done had been for him, that he had never for a single second blamed Alex for what his father had done.

But was that the truth? When Alex had come back to Roswell after ten years away and he’d revealed his lost leg, all Michael had wanted to do was hold him and kiss him until he forgot his injuries and beg him never to leave again. Instead, he’d been too used to being angry. Too used to grieving and emptiness. He’d been bitter and cruel.

He searched his memories for moments of kindness, moments he’d shown Alex how much he loved him and wanted him there. That whole time, he’d only thought of wanting to forget, wanting to leave the darkness behind, wanting to stop the nightmares that had always come tied to Alex. He hadn’t spared a single thought to how Alex might’ve felt.

“It was because of me,” he breathed, shocked to only now discover what seemed so obvious. “You . . . you blamed yourself because of me.”

Alex frowned, like he’d thought Michael had already known this a long time ago. That they were past this. He’d always been so much smarter like that.

He did sit up this time. “I forgave you for Maria already, Michael,” he promised. “I forgave you a long time ago, that’s not what this is.”

“I never thought of it,” he admitted, sitting up as well because he needed to touch Alex. “I never thought of how you would feel when I walked away like that, I . . . I always thought you were too good for me anyway, I thought you knew you were too good.”

“Michael,” Alex said softly.

“That’s why I did what I did, Alex,” he swore, desperately grabbing Alex’s hips to keep him close. “I was so scared that you would see how far ahead you were. I was scared you’d realize that I’d never be good enough for you.”

“Stop it.”

“I couldn’t get past what your dad had done,” he confessed in a whisper, and Alex fell silent. “I couldn’t get past it because I hated him, Alex. I hated him and I thought he was a monster, and I hated that you kept listening to him. I hated that he mattered more than me.”

“Michael,” he said, aghast, “he never –”

“I know,” he shut his eyes. “I know that. I’ve always known that, baby. But knowing that and admitting it are two different things, and admitting that you loved me more meant admitting how much I’d failed you. It meant admitting that I’d abandoned you to him because why would you want to stay with someone who was too scared to give you a home? Jesse commanded you to stay. I never even asked.”

Alex didn’t seem to know what to say to that, and Michael reached up, cupping his face. “I didn’t blame you for wanting a dad, Alex. I could never blame you for that. I wouldn’t have blamed you even if you’d loved him. I’m not forgiving a damn thing because it wasn’t your fault. Say it, say those words.”

“Michael –”

“Say it, Alex,” he encouraged gently, despite the whirlwind of emotion in his chest. “Look at me, and say it.”

Alex searched Michael’s face, as though searching for the concession and secret resentment. When he didn’t find it, his eyes turned glassy and he swallowed, his lower lip trembling, and suddenly, Michael saw the weight he’d been carrying on his shoulder. Had he been in this much pain all this time?

“It . . .” Alex started, the words choking his throat, and Michael held him tighter before he tried again. “It wasn’t . . . my fault . . . it wasn’t.”

A tear rolled down his cheek and he heaved a long sigh, that weight finally lightening. Michael forced himself to stay strong and steady. Alex needed him too much now.

“It wasn’t my fault,” Alex’s voice broke, and he shut his eyes, his cries silent but making his whole body shake. Michael pulled him in and held him tight, running a hand up and down Alex’s spine, his other hand fisting his hair.

Michael pushed his face into the strands and breathed in his scent, content to hold his husband for as long as it took, even as his own eyes burned.

“That’s my boy,” he whispered. After a long few minutes, he promised, “It’s okay. I’ll let you pick something else.”

The choked out laugh he got in response went right to mending the cracks in his heart.

***

Turns out writing fic is just about the only writing I can manage when I'm stressed out about homework. So uhh. Yeah. Anyway, if you have any prompts, please send them through my tumblr inbox. I need all the fics I can get right now.

[dewdrops-whammy-bar]

I’m on a virginity kink kick and as much as I love the new ghouls I’ve been thinking about the older ghouls a lot recently. So here’s trans Ifrit giving his virginity to both Alpha and Omega at the same time. Feast upon this delicious smut, friends.

Support me <3

Ifrit is floating.

He feels almost dizzy with ecstasy and pleasure and he hasn’t even came yet. His skin is on fire, every touch sending white-hot jolts up his spine. He throbs almost painfully, already thoroughly prepared from Alpha’s thick fingers but left needing more.

He’s in his own bed, leaning back against Omega’s broad chest with his legs open and draped over Meg’s strong thighs. Alpha is knelt between his legs, licking Ifrit’s creamy slick from his fingers. He can feel Omega’s cock throbbing against his back and unholy shit it’s impressive. A voice in the back of his mind tells him it would maybe be better to have his first time with one ghoul instead but he brushes it off. This is hot as fuck.

“Think I’m ready.” He says. He cringes inwardly at how feminine his voice sounds. Omega had promised it would get deeper as he took his shots but Ifrit wishes it would hurry the fuck up.

“You hear that?” Alpha smiles at Omega over Ifrit’s shoulder. “It’s time.”

The way Omega gently maneuvers Ifrit to free his cock from between their bodies is both incomprehensibly sexy and surprisingly reverent. He feels as if he’s on an altar like the Siblings who dedicate sex to the Old One in elaborate rituals. He supposes he’s doing something similar.

He clenches as something warm brushes against his folds. He knows what he’ll see when he looks down, but the sight still takes his breath away. The tip of Omega’s cock- shiny with pre and slick- sits against his cunt. Not applying any pressure, just resting there and letting his folds bloom open. Ifrit wishes he had a mirror so he could see better but he’s pretty sure he would cum instantly if he did.

Alpha shifts closer, letting his own tip butt up against Omega’s. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. We’re gonna take good care of you.”

“That’s right.” Omega rumbles. “Tell us when you’re ready. Take all the time you need.”

“Mhm.” Ifrit mumbles and lets his head fall back onto Omega’s shoulder. “Feels good already. Can’t wait.”

“We can’t either.” Alpha breathes, leaning in to kiss Ifrit’s throat.

Ifrit takes a moment to relax himself and nods. “Okay. Take me.“

Those last two words are spoken in a low, breathy tone. They feel sacred, unholy in the most pure sense.

Both Alpha and Omega twitch in unison. Ifrit has only a second or two to store that information away for later use when both ghouls start pushing. It’s painful even with the preparation Alpha had given him and he grits his teeth. He’s just beginning to think they won’t both fit when-

“OhhHH-“ Ifrit gasps, his eyes flying open. “Oh- fuck…” It stings, the feeling intensifying with every involuntary flutter of his hole. But underneath the pain is a fullness that makes him throb and ache for more.

“How do you feel?” Omega rumbles from underneath him.

Ifrit has to remind himself to breathe. He takes a breath in and lets it out with a shaky moan. “Full. Really full.”

Alpha snorts. “We’re barely inside, firebird. Are you sure you can handle both of us?”

“Yes!-“ Ifrit gasps. “Please. Wanna be more full. Please.” The last word comes out in a whine.

“You heard the man.” Omega chuckles, patting Ifrit’s side. “Let’s fill him up.”

Ifrit’s head falls back and he keens as both of them push deeper. He feels like he’s being split open in the best way. He’ll be sore tomorrow but it’ll be worth it.

[the-magpie-collective]

I've been struggling to articulate why people conflating Wyll's desire for emotional fidelity with no sex until marriage bothers me so much. I think this is the fifth or sixth time I've rewritten this post. So I'm giving up. Here are some bullet points in no particular order:

Waiting to have sex until marriage is inherently tied to purity culture. I hope I don't have to articulate why this is a bad thing. Making the worth of someone dependent on their perceived purity/virginity is not at all in line with Wyll's character.

Please stop getting sucked into the lie of purity culture being a show of dedication/restraint/true love. Please stop painting it as a good thing. Please fandom I am begging you.

Marriage is inherently a religious (and sometimes legal) institution. Wyll is canonically dismissive of the gods and they do not hold a great importance in his life ('The only thing a god's ever given me is a cold shoulder') And Wyll is not filing paperwork in triplicate with the city of Baldur's Gate before getting down and dirty with his love. No.

It takes what is a grand romantic gesture—a desire to know and understand his Love Interest and truly dedicate himself to them before sex—and turns it into a checklist. 'Gotta get married fast so we can fuck'.

I have seen a few individuals veer straight into aphobia with this. They'll give Wyll the strawman position of wanting to wait to have sex until marriage, so that when they criticize Wyll wanting to wait, make him out to appear "broken" for applying a different priority on sex than other characters, and then proceed to "fix" him, they're painted in a better light. The reality is they're just perpetuating the same tired old aphobic bullshit that people on the asexual spectrum must just be prudes/religious nuts/broken/sheltered/'one good fuck would fix them' instead of acknowledging that it's a valid orientation.

I don't personally headcanon Wyll as asexual—but there are definitely parallels in how some people in fandom treat Wyll's wanting to wait and how people treat asexuality

You don't have to justify why Wyll is having sex in your fanfic. These are fictional characters. Do what you want with them. Just stop it with the aphobia

[femc-supremacy]

Can't wait to watch everybody lose their minds when that DA romance tournament ends up being Fenris vs Alistair in the finals

[poorly-drawn-mdzs]

There's nothing he can't do. Yet.

(Thank you to everyone who participated in the poll!)

[marclef]

Can you draw Fakino just being an annoying big blob that bothers Peppino while he’s cooking or sthm

PS: I’ll take the chance to say that I LOVE your art ! there’s something with how you draw your characters, the expressions and really unique to you and make your art very distinguishable :3 ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

(AAAHHHH, well thank you!!! ❤❤ also so sorry i've taken so long to finish asks, i've been busy with a whole lot of stuff and it's hard to get drawing time in 😔 here are some sillies for you though, because Peppino probably has to deal with shit like this near-daily)

[completeoveranalysis]

[2]

Oh no Syaoran never learned to never give out free feet pics!

Syaoran no! People will pay good money for that!!

Though I will say, boi knows how to pose!