#but god i love this pairing

[vinestaff]

for what it's worth, i was telling the truth when I said I enjoyed working with you

[sukunasteeth]

Taking Care of a Tired Sukuna

Sukuna has had a long day.

Well, night.

Morning.

Fuck.

Working construction had been twisting up his sleeping schedule. At this point, Sukuna was starting to feel it in his body; in the strain in his muscle, and the aches and pains that randomly gripped him.  

They had him working on a new project that could only be done at night, while the public was off the main roads, and that meant his new work hours were starting from sometime in the middle of the evening and ending in the morning or the mid-afternoon. Being nocturnal wouldn't be so bad if his commute home wasn't during rush hour. The traffic was always worse when he just wanted to crawl onto his couch and fall asleep there. And when he does come home at the end of the day - he's aching, exhausted, and every bone in his body is vibrating with the noise from a jackhammer or the hum of a forklift.

Sukuna has always liked something that keeps him busy, interested, something that tests his strengths. So, he can't say that he hates the job, but he does wish that it wouldn't occupy so much of his time. He's wont to forget things when he's so wrapped up in a new task.

Like today, for example, when he finally swings his truck around the front of his apartment building, barely making it off the freeway without murdering someone, and he spots your car parked there in his spot.

He starts a bit, his sleep deprived brain suddenly spinning as memory serves him. 

That's right. You were supposed to come over today after he got off of work and spend the night- and he didn't plan a damn thing. There's no flowers in the backseat, he didn't stop to grab lunch for the two of you, he doesn't even have anything in his fridge for dinner tonight, besides a few forgotten beers tucked away in the side door.

As Sukuna searches for a parking spot much further down the street, he knows he should be disappointed with himself, but he can't help the touch of excitement that's suddenly dissolving the exhaustion from his muscles. Sometimes, Sukuna resents the fact that you manage to reduce him to this. He hates that he can't control that his heart skips a beat at the thought of seeing you again, like he's in some sappy romance novel.

But it was the hold you had on him, and he was starting to accept it.

~

You got to Sukuna's apartment about two hours before he was scheduled to be home. It was a day off for you, and you woke up with butterflies fluttering around in your chest.

You were giddy to see him. You always were. And not a single butterfly has died in your heart-space for him since the moment you met Sukuna, around two years ago. He has tended to each of them since then with his gentle but stubborn touch, although, he would never admit it.

You adored him for that.

It's still early in the morning when you use the key he had made for you to unlock his front door. Immediately upon stepping in, you're hit with how dark his studio is. The sun had risen over the horizon hours ago, and yet, the only hint of its light came from a small gap in Sukuna's blackout curtains. When you pull them back, you turn around and wince at the room behind you.

Yep, he's working too hard.

There's construction tools all over the house; sitting on the counter, in the sink, on his bed-stand, there's even a huge oil covered machine beside the front door that you nearly trip on in your trek over to the curtain. His coveralls and work clothes are strewn across the living room like he's been too exhausted to even make it to his bed at the end of his days, which is not very far from the couch. Meanwhile, his bedroom and the kitchen look nearly immaculate, telling you he hasn't cooked in days and confirming your suspicions about his sleeping arrangements. You wander over to his fridge and pop it open, sighing hopelessly when you're greeted with nothing inside.

Good thing he has you. 

~

By the time he makes it home, it's around one in the afternoon. You've got his laundry hanging on the clothesline outside, more in the washing machine, and all of his tools and odds and ends have been sorted and dusted clean. You've opened every window he has, and cool, fresh air sweeps away the oppressed darkness his apartment held before. Everything was back in equilibrium. 

When his keys jingle outside the door, you're just finishing up the last of folding his laundry. Sukuna steps inside, and your heart aches at how drained he looks despite the way his eyes widen as he peers around the room in surprise. His clothes are covered in dust from the construction site, and there's a smear of dirt on his cheek that makes him look like a chimney sweep. There's a tool in his hand that looks rather heavy, straining the muscles in his arm, but he seems to have momentarily forgotten to put it down. Half moon circles are embedded under his eyes, but they only bring out the intensity of his gaze. 

"Hi 'Kuna?" You chime, calling his attention to rest on you.

He blinks, taking a moment to process the situation. You don't recognize the glimmer in his eyes then, and part of you starts to sweat at the thought of him taking this all wrong. Sukuna had never been particularly picky with you, but vice versa, you had never done something like this for him before. He never gave you the opportunity, after all. Out of the two of you, Sukuna was usually the one who was always effortlessly put together.

"You... cleaned..." He notes. 

You swallow, "I did but I didn't move things around though. Just tried to put things back. Your laundry is right outside and I got you some groceries-" Sukuna drops the tool in his hand without warning, and you start talking faster, your voice raising a pitch as he starts towards you. "Okay, thinking back, I guess I should have asked. Maybe texted- no, you hate texting. Maybe called-"

“Did you clean the paint specks off of my air compressor?” He was standing in front of the machine beside the front door, which you painstakingly made sure not to ruin in your cleansing, despite having no idea what it was. 

When he looks at you for an answer, continuing to close the distance between the two of you. You swallow the rock in your throat. “Too much?” 

He’s made his way across the room and his surprised expression finally settles into a familiar hungry grin. He grabs you by the hem of your jeans, yanking you roughly towards him. You catch yourself on his chest, making a small noise of surprise. When you look up to scold him, Sukuna is an inch away from your face, his lips almost brushing yours, save for half a centimeter of space between them. He smells like sawdust and menthol, you can taste it in the close proximity as he greedily takes your breath away. 

“Off. Now.” He growls, but his fingers are already undoing the button clasped in the front of your pants. “I’m about to fuckin’ eat you, sweet thing.” 

~

You end up skipping lunch, but you're well satisfied a few hours later. A certain hunger: satiated. Sukuna is resting peacefully beside you. You can hear his even breathing against the sound of the cicadas outside, screaming in through the windows. Seeing him so content, sets your heart at ease and you release a sigh of relief. 

Now, to end the night, it was time to slip out of bed without him noticing to finish folding his laundry. 

Or so you thought. 

As you carefully peel back the blankets and try to sneak off the side of the mattress, a warm pair of fingers loop themselves around your panty line, effectively preventing you from going anywhere. Guiltily, you peek over your shoulder to see Sukuna glaring at you with half of his face still smushed into his pillow, genuinely disgruntled with the fact that you were trying to leave his bed. You can't help but chuckle.

"I'm just gonna go grab your laundry." You reassure him, brushing a tousled tuft of his hair out of his eyes. The knot between his brows deepens.

"Let me do that later. C'mere. " He tugs on your panty line, confident that you'll be submissive for him.

The sun outside was casting tall shadows on the walls of his bedroom and the glow was now deep and rich, telling you that it was preparing to set. You didn't want Sukuna's laundry on the balcony all night, which is what you were sure would happen if you didn't go and grab it now.

You hear a thread rip in your panty line interrupting your contemplation and, quickly, you grab his wrist, squeezing it as a signal for him to let go.

He continues to hold fast, his brow cocking in a silent dare.

"'Kuna, come on." You try, "Lemme take care of you-"

"You've been doing nothing but take care of me all day." He scoffs, like the idea of it is absurd to him. Rarely does Sukuna allow you the opportunity to show him as much care and adoration as you have today. Being doted on was not typically something he enjoyed. You knew that, and that's how you also knew that he was exhausted to his bones that day. "Get your ass back here."

There's a tug again, and another thread snaps somewhere. You pout at him, already having the foresight that this pair of panties wasn't going to last you long either. Your partner had the tendency to rip them off of you, and this wouldn't be the first pair to become a shred of what they once were. To be fair, he was also known for giving you his credit card and telling you to go buy "some things for him to see you in", so it would be at no cost to you. But, you happened to like this pair.

Sukuna watches you consider your options silently, unrelenting in his hold on your lace. When you peek up at his gaze, testing one more time, you know you've already lost.

"Don't make me chase after you." He warns, the promise of your inevitable surrender is evident in the predatory glint of his eyes. If Sukuna had a tail at that moment, it would be swaying back and forth, preparing for a pounce. "It's been a while since the last time I had you tied up. I do miss those sweet little bruises we left on your wrists."

You feel the hair on the back of your neck stand at attention upon his recollection. The last time Sukuna had you in ropes, you had to call off of work the next day. Your backside stings with the memory, but half of you can't help but ache for it too. Tied up in Sukuna's bed while he was forced to care for the boneless pile that was his girlfriend, drunk off of his lovemaking? That wasn't the worst place to be.

But, on the other hand, you could tell how exhausted he was with the new construction project at his job. You have a flashback of showering with him at the end of the night and scrubbing sawdust out of his hair. Having to gently prod and kiss him awake as he fell asleep standing up in front of you. You were adamant that you weren't going to do anything to tire him further tonight. 

Before you can properly give in, Sukuna must have decided that you were taking much too long to obey him. 

His other hand reaches over and winds around your lower waist, pulling you backwards into the soft cushion of the pillows and easily flipping the two of you so that he’s mounted above you. In your surprised stupor, he collects both of your wrists in one of his hands and pins them above your head. 

"You've forgotten how to follow directions again, kitten." His murmur is like velvet against your ear. His teeth graze over his favorite spot on the nape of your neck, where he’s already tortured it with his teeth and hickies. You didn’t realize how raw the skin was until he bites you there, drawing a whimper from your throat. 

 "Let's remind you."

[hinamie]

every so often i have to relearn how to draw yuuji or he starts fighting me

[blorbologist]

Y'know, I think I figured out why the Hells still feel like a new low-level party to me, even though they're level 13 and almost 100 episodes in.

I don't quite think it's the lack of conversations, or the fact half the party's plot hooks are big ties to past campaigns - though that definitely plays a part.

... Bell's Hells still primarily rely on quest givers.

Most of their goals are given to them and do not feel organic to the party, and constantly remind us that the Hells are pretty much never the most powerful people in the room. Which is usually something you see with a low-level party.

NPCs offering jobs is not a bad thing; it's a very common plot hook. Matt has been extremely skilled with using NPC quest givers in those two campaigns. Not only do they provide an obvious plot thread, but they can put the party in the path of others (say, the Nein running into the Iron Shepherds while doing a job for the Gentleman and everything that came of that). And the Hells had a solid start with it too - Eshteross was an excellent quest giver!

The problem is that Bell's Hells have never really not had a quest giver.

Maybe it's a byproduct of the more plot-heavy structure of this campaign? But while prior parties have felt like they decided on their course of action and what they prioritized, Bell's Hells feels less like level 13 (13! Level 13!) experienced adventurers and more like an MMO group clicking on the exclamation point over an NPC's head. Where does the plot demand we go next? Who do we report back to?

They're level 13.

At level 13, Vox Machina had just defeated a necromantic city-state to clear their name and Percy's conscience. And, you know, the Conclave just destroyed Emon. No one was explicitly telling the group to gather Vestiges and save the world (though Matt guided them there), and they were usually among the most powerful people in the room. They chose which Vestiges to prioritize, which dragons to tackle when, even if the over-all plot was pretty clear.

At level 13, the Mighty Nein were celebrating Traveler Con (another PC goal, I'll note) after brokering peace between two nations, accidentally becoming pirates and heroes of the Dynasty. The Nein regularly chose what to do based on personal goals, not grand ones. Though definitely smaller fish than Vox Machina at this level, they were very independent and gaining solid political clout.

While we're at it: level 13 is one level lower than the Ring of Brass, who had a huge amount of sway over Avalir. They ended the world, and also saved it, while in the grand scheme of things being only a smidge more powerful than Bell's Hells are now.

Can you really see the Hells wielding that amount of influence, when they're constantly being told what to do next?

The god-eater might be unleashed, so Bell's Hells have no time to do anything but what is asked of them. No time for therapy unless stolen from Feywild time, no travel on foot and late-night watches. They haven't even had time to grieve FCG. Percy was grieved in the middle of the Conclave arc. Molly was grieved when half the party was still in irons.

Matt is in the very unfortunate spot of not being able to give the Hells the same agency as the other two parties. Not only because of the world-ending plot introduced so early on; they are surrounded by characters they know (and the cast knows) are stronger and wiser than them - the familiarity of the past PCs and NPCs is to their disadvantage.

Why would the party reasonably ignore Keyleth's task that will help save the world and go off on a romp? Why would the cast when they know well Keyleth has to be sensible and with the best intentions in mind? The stakes are just too high.

It means that the Hells still feel like they're running errands instead of pursuing their own destiny. Their accomplishments are diminished as just being parts of a to-do list, and any stakes feel padded by several level 20 PCs/NPCs standing 5 steps away ready to catch them.

This isn't Bell's Hell's fault, nor is it Matt's. It could be amended, I think, if the Hells are really left to their own devices for a long period of time without support and shortcuts (like during the party split)... which would be really tricky to pull off at this point in the campaign.

They're level 13. They're big fish, but they're stuck in a pond full of friendly sharks, so they don't feel big at all.

[dismas-n-dismay]

I'm not fucking joking when I tell you I saw this panel and literally started sobbing and crying over seeing my babygirl buying chocolate with just fucking quarters. This is the people's jason todd for real, thank you Juni Ba

[zevzevarainai]

Zevran Dialogue Fix Mod

[sigmalaussene]

Guess what I did

my art

[saturdaysky]

a little divine appreciation

-

God Gale is endgame for Mayhew, and Mayhew couldn't be more pleased 😌

their mutual wizard disease brought them to some pretty low lows, but hey, ignore the tragedy, they're gods now! first order of business is a little worshiping at the altar 😏

Here's the sketch, which I also like:

Got majorly inspired by these lovely photos, one of which I used as a pose reference.

[dawnbreakersgaze]

You know there is something really poetic about Rafayel's evol being fire. Like I know everyone was shocked it wasn't water or something more elementally in line with the ocean given the whole mermaid theme but

He's the symbolic light of his people

He's their sun (literal and figurative), their burning passion and drive to survive

He's the hope that one day they can reclaim what was lost

And the fact that they refer to him as "Your Quintessence" in his myth, essentially calling him the most perfect or most central to them, idk it's got me feeling a sort of way this morning.

Rafayel is the flame that keeps Lemuria's heart ablaze even when every force imaginable is working to extinguish it.

[aecholapis]

October 14th - Climbing A Mountain

Sixshot / Ultra Magnus

For the @tfrarepairing fest 2024

[gh0stlyscooter]

Oscar my beloved how I love you so 🫶 ft. Arthur

[livelovecaliforniadreams]

Favorite Otps/Pairings: Oliver Queen & Felicity Smoak (Arrow) "We are the best parts of each other. And that is so much bigger than the friggin' universe."

[rwbyrg]

i need to talk about the epilogue again. i need to talk about how Oscar wishes so desperately that he was more like Ruby... while being a near mirror image of her and not even realizing it.

"If there was anything I wish I could borrow from you Ruby, it would be your certainty. You always believed things would work out... up until the moment they didn't."

Says boy who is certain Ruby and her team are not gone forever. Someone who has been working tirelessly to find an answer on how to bring them home. Who believes they'll find a way back to Remnant, to Vacuo, to him, because he hasn't been given enough reason to prove him otherwise.

How very Treasure of him. How very Ruby of him.

"You always believed in the best. Saw people for who they really were..."

Says boy who saw Emerald and Hazel as people who didn't want to cause harm in the ways they had been. Who saw Ironwood's fear and knew it was his weakness. Says Oscar Pine, who has always seen all of Ruby - her strengths and her faults in equal measure. Who questioned how she was able to handle the weight of all these struggles because he - correctly - believed that it was too much for someone in her position to carry. Says boy who, moments after singing her praises about how she "must have been one of the best huntresses at Beacon", also holds space for her humanity, her limits, and sees "how hard this must be on her too". "Man I wish I was better at understanding the people around me" (paraphrased) says only character that clocked how much Ruby was struggling four volumes before anyone else did.

But while he can see these virtues in others... he struggles to recognize these qualities within his own character. When it requires looking inward.

"You always believed in the best. Saw people for who they really were. Some of us... don't know anymore."

Oscar says this despite how he has always acted in the ways that were truest to his values, beliefs, and character; despite Ozpin's influence or any obstacles that tried to get in his way. He says this - lamenting about how he wishes he were more like Ruby - while doing, saying, and believing things that she herself does, says, and is. Including the very things he is praising her for!!

Now, why does that sound familiar? Oh. Oh right. Because Ruby herself is the same way. How she, just like Oscar, is so unbelievably good - both of them wanting to be heroes, who help others, and want to become the best versions of themselves they can be, thanks in large part to the role models that came before them - and yet neither of them can recognize or give themselves enough credit for the things they do right!! The things they appreciate, admire, and learned from those who've inspired them!!

Ruby spends all of Volume 9 doubting herself. She doubts her actions, her choices, her failures. She questions her identity, who she is, and who she wants to be. Compares herself to the heroes from fairytales - an ideal she can never live up to. She questions and doubts her own worth because no matter how hard she tries, she is never enough in her eyes.

And just like Oscar, a fault she sees in herself is something that she acknowledges and praises in him. When she tries so hard to do the right thing, she believes she may have just caused more harm than good. She views herself as worthless. But when Oscar laments the same fear and worry to her in Atlas - that he was foolish to think Ironwood would listen, that every choice he made was the wrong one - she reassures him that he did the best he could, and that she's just glad he's okay. That simply having tried at all is what matters most. That it's enough.

Lastly, can we talk about the poetry of this setup? Can we talk about how Ruby has spent nine volumes slowly breaking under the pressure of her responsibility, and this last season believing she isn't, and never will be, enough... while Oscar Pine stands a world a part from her and speaks about how much he values her? How much he treasures who she is and the things she's done? How Ruby wishes she wasn't herself anymore, but Oscar Pine - who is having his own identity robbed from him - says that if he could be like anyone in the whole world, if he had the choice to decide the kind of person he could be, then he'd choose to be a bit like Ruby Rose? If that wasn't too much to ask for?

[foldingfittedsheets]

My beloved wife is not just a doctor of acupuncture, they also have a Master’s in both English and German. Language is their jam. To their eternal suffering, I do not have perfect grammar. When prompted they said it’s “fairly acceptable” on a day to day basis.

But I do have quirks that make them quietly grit their teeth. One of them is my indifference to differentiation between “is” and “are”. On multiple occasions they’ve tried to explain to me when I misuse “is,” and generally I can’t even parse what’s upset them. They gave an example of me asking, “Is there pickles in the fridge?” rather than the correct “Are there pickles in the fridge?”

They’ve told me that to pacify the editor in their brain they’ll mentally correct my sentences and that’s usually enough. Tonight it was me saying “There is other narrators,” in reference to a series we’re reading. When they pointed it out tonight it was to say that “are” would have been correct because there’s multiple other narrators.

“No,” I countered, “I was trying to use ambiguous language but there is really only one other narrator, so in my mind I knew that and spoke incorrectly because I knew it was singular but the sentence implied it was plural.”

This incensed them further (I also don’t know the difference between further and farther and the pneumonic is just as unhelpful to me as the one for stalactites and stalagmites.)

What’s funny to me though was that I asked about my use of “kind’ve” that people got worked up over in my 20lb ass post. “Doesn’t that bother you? It’s blatantly wrong.”

“No, that’s just a colloquialism, it’s fine.”

[queeringclassiclit]

John Watson

from the Sherlock Holmes series by Arthur Conan Doyle (1887-1927)

[flowerakatsuka]

Osomatsu-san x Harimaware! Koinu The Chara Shop ( 2024 )