#but i don't mind because it's a fair question!

[fangirl-erdariel]

I was gonna put this in the tags but it's gonna get too long to put there easily, so sorry, I'm replying like this

But my answer is, it really depends a lot on the media in question?

Like, the thing is, I've been a Tolkien fan for ten years or thereabouts now, and I've spent most of that time being at least to some degree also a Silmarillion fan. And with Silm fandom, sometimes even with relatively major characters and relationships, there's not that much information actually given about them. Like, there's a lot of filling in blanks involved with the Silm fan experience. So subsequently, in Tolkien fandom, you can persuade me to ship just about anything if there's even a tiniest hint of emotional resonance that can be inferred from something adjacent and I happen to be in the right mood.

Like, I sort of ship Celebrían and Isildur's wife! I've never gotten around to drawing or writing them but I sorta do ship them.

And like, these are characters where... Celebrían.. we know her name, we know who her parents are, who she married in canon, who her children are, and where she lived in some time periods, and the whole "getting kidnapped by orcs and sailing to the West" thing. No personality, hobbies, skills, etc. And Isildur's wife? The fancy word, I believe, is "textual ghost". She technically exists, but we don't even know her name, let alone anything else about her. For fanfic writing purposes, she's a Schrödinger's OC. Evrrything about her, you gotta either make up yourself from scratch like making an OC, or borrow from someone else's fic or headcanon. So we have a background character of whom very little is known, and a character who is for all intents and purposes an OC that happens to slot into a hole in canon. So why do I ship them? Because both of them were (presumably; technically I'm not even sure if it's confirmed that Celebrían did but it seems the most likely option) staying at the same place during a major war that lasted the better part of a decade, and once or twice I thought about what it would be like to be in their place, waiting, far from the fighting and yet knowing that everything about your future hinges on the outcome of the war, and your loved ones are there fighting and even if the war is won you don't know whether they'll survive. And I thought about how those two characters are kinda in the same boat in that regard, and started thinking about how they'd probably talk about it and help each other bear it. And from there it just quickly evolved into shipping. I basically tricked myself into finding emotional resonance in the gaps left by outlines that weren't ever developed into full detailed stories.

So yeah, Tolkien fandom? There, if I'm in the right mood and you introduce me to the concept in the right way, you can make me ship just about anything, up to and including characters that aren't so much characters as holes where a character should go.

But then in a lot of other fandoms, that's not the case? There's some fandoms where I only ship, or could even be persuaded to ship, characters that have a fair bit of on-screen chemistry/whose dynamic is in some way fairly important in the story.

Like, BBC Musketeers? I only really ship a couple of the central canon ships and sorta Porthamis. I probably could be persuaded to ship any of the main boys, and a few major supporting characters wirh established on-screen dynamics, though

Robin of Sherwood? Honestly I barely even ship either Robin and Marion or Robert and Marion, and those are like. Canonical very plot-important ships between the main leads of the show. (Like, to be clear, I don't like mind those romances, I just wasn't super invested in them and my interest was much more in some non-romantic character dynamics and other aspects of the show). I could maybe be persuaded to ship like. some of the other major dynamics between some of the outlaws, but I'm not even sure about that.

So yeah idk it just depends so wildly from fandom to fandom that I struggle to give a definitive genersl answer. Sometimes you can just give me a theme that resonates with me and two barely existent outlines of a character to explore with it and I'll ship it, and other times even getting invested in the most central canon ship is an effort. I've yet to ever ship characters from two completely separate medias. Anyway I would say that even with fandoms where I have ships that I like toying with, shipping is never really the main angle I tend to approach the thing from

Hey, I wanna talk about how we do fandom! I've come to realize that I, personally, tend to differ from many others in that I highly prefer to only engage with a text as it's written, so I don't tend to really like fanon/extremely ooc characterizations and I find it hard to get invested in ships that aren't canon. My way of doing fandom isn't better or worse than anyone else's, but I am curious about how much of a minority I'm in! So:

*We've all seen ships of characters not from the same media and stuff like shipping the concept of ennui with the color blue, okay, I'm asking what you, personally, find compelling!

[666writingcafe]

Wrath

A Text Conversation Between Satan and MC

Satan: You don't have to worry about my transition affecting you. As it turns out, the bulk of it occurred before you were even introduced to us.

Satan: Part of why this is even happening is because the others were once angels, so it's taking their bodies longer to adjust to their new form.

Satan: Meanwhile, this is all I've ever been, so it's a bit easier for me to accept who I am.

MC: I appreciate you telling me this. I sure could use the break from experiencing everyone's sin.

Satan: I bet. You must be exhausted.

MC: *nodding crow sticker*

MC: Can I ask you a personal question?

Satan: As long as you're prepared for the fact that I may not answer.

MC: Fair enough.

MC: What was your biggest fear?

Satan: During that time?

MC: *nodding crow sticker*

Satan: Being reduced to a mere shadow of Lucifer. I started as a feeling inside him. The more he felt it, the stronger I became. The war and consequent fall caused me to separate from him.

Satan: For the longest time, my mind was a wasteland. I had to separate my identity from Lucifer's, which was quite frustrating, to say the least. I know there will always be similarities between us, but it's taken me a while to find any substantial differences. I've had to force some to form in order to gain some semblance of self.

MC: How did you overcome it?

Satan: By listening to you.

Satan: When you summoned that ball of light, it was the first time I've truly been calm. The longer I held the light in my hands, the more I could discern its whispering. It was your voice comforting me. It was soothing.

Satan: But it also felt familiar.

Satan: Which brings me to my next point.

Satan: I know who you really are, MC.

MC: *eek sticker*

MC: *eek sticker*

MC: *eek sticker*

Satan: It's okay. I'm not upset. I understand why you had to keep your true identity a secret. I wouldn't have even found out if it wasn't for Lord Diavolo and Barbatos.

MC: WHAT????

Satan: Don't worry; they didn't tell me outright. I just happened to be in the castle library when they walked in and began talking about you. If they knew I was in the room with them, I doubt they would have said anything about it until I left, but I was tucked in a corner behind a couple bookshelves, so they couldn't have seen me without purposely looking for me.

MC: *face-palming crow sticker*

MC: You REALLY weren't supposed to find out, but it's not like I can do anything to change it.

MC: So, tell me what you overheard them say about me.

Satan: I know you come from a future timeline. The prince apparently had told Barbatos to try to find your version of the butler and get some answers from him about why all this has been happening to you. They've really been worried about you and want to do everything in their power to help you.

MC: I imagine my Barbatos was selective about what he shared.

Satan: *nodding crow sticker*

Satan: He mentioned that back home, you're a human that managed to form pacts with all seven of us and that a large part of your power became tied to your emotions as a result.

Satan: He also seems to believe you were sent here to experience each of our transformations firsthand so that you can help someone go through their own.

Satan: Obviously, he didn't reveal who that person was, but both my Diavolo and Barbatos felt like that would have been unnecessary information, for they've observed someone begin acting differently during your stay here.

MC: Oh?

Satan: Apparently, he trapped you in a closet at some point?

MC: Shit.

Satan: So it IS him, then?

MC: Yes.

Satan: The only memories I have of him prior to him visiting us for the founding ceremony are hazy and through Lucifer's eyes, but I've always gotten the sense he's not been particularly happy about where he's at.

Satan: I just didn't think he'd have the guts to do anything to wildly change his circumstances. He seems too devoted to the little one to just pack his things and leave it all behind.

MC: I don't think he did when we first met.

Satan: Are you able to tell me what changed, or would that be revealing too much information?

MC: I can give you the simple answer and let you fill in the blanks.

Satan: *thumbs up emoji*

MC: He developed strong feelings for me.

Satan: But you're a human.

MC: Yes.

Satan: And he's an angel.

MC: At the time, yes.

Satan: Wait a damn minute.

Satan: Did he seriously FALL for you?!

MC: Not quite. He was still an angel when I left, but he'd made some choices beforehand that pretty much sealed his fate. I just don't know what exactly he'll be when I return.

Satan: Well, judging by the way they're saying he's currently acting here, I'd say he's gearing up to be YOURS.

Satan: And I'm not trying to be sappy. I'm being completely serious.

MC: I don't doubt it.

Satan: When he believed everyone was out of the room when you and Asmo were passed out, he was right by your side, watching over you.

Satan: According to Barbatos, he even held your hand and kissed you on the forehead before he eventually got up and left.

Satan: Angels don't typically act that way towards demons. Even with Diavolo's efforts to make peace with the Celestial Realm, they tend to act rather hostile whenever they're around us for more than a few seconds.

MC: I know.

Satan: I'll let you get some rest. You'll need it

Satan: And don't worry; your secret is safe with me.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr, @tenkobitch, @budbuddnbuddy

[little-pup-pip]

Just curious, what requests do you have in your queue/to do currently? If you're ok with saying it that is :]

Oh boy, that's a bigger question than last time someone asked! I have over 200 waiting requests at this point!! Because of that this got very very long, so I put the rest under the cut! Like last time, this is in order of how recently I received the request, and doesn't mean I'm too busy to take new requests!!

Ibara saegusa (enstars)

Monochrome oranges cats and angels

Gloomy bear

Another rockruff (maybe)

Cult of the lamb (specifically the lamb)

Llewellyn Watts (Murdoch Mysteries)

Jake (trailer park warlock)

Cult of the lamb (pet dreaming themed)

Bear therian

Selkie

Ice bear (we bare bears)

Tubbo (maybe)

Snow leopard

Pink

Australian shepherd (pupre)

Cassie (fnaf: ruin)

Draik (neopets)

The rainbow fish

Black kitten + space

Pumpkin head (maybe, needs more research)

Alice in wonderland

Sheep

Someone's OC Avery & siblings

Gothic

Star catcher (MLP)

Masc version of my druid board

Scrooge CG (2009 film)

Beetlejuice

Superstar daycare (fnaf)

1950s + ocean

Pandas + light purple and black

Dandelions

Willy wonka CG (recent movie)

Maki Harukawa (Danganronpa)

Kidcore Halloween + pumpkin puppy Webkinz

Fruit bat

Mermaid

Pastel purple + pandas

Robocar Poli

Brown, lime green and forest green puppy

Weird Barbie CG

Shiny Vaporeon

Where the wild things are

Squid

Dylan (the magic roundabout)

Conner CG (Detroit become human)

Mitsuri kanroji (demon slayer)

Minecraft mooshrooms

Sharks or wolves (haven't decided)

Hot Wheels

Miffy

Fox

Sharks

Zombies

Vincent (dead plate)

Vintage kitty dreaming

Deadpool

Shane CG (stardew valley)

Wolf pup

Celestia and Luna (MLP)

Soft blue and yellow

Pascal (animal crossing)

Pastel blue and pink

Batman CG

Ram

Osamu dazai (bungo stray dogs)

Dylan (the quarry)

Rain/nature + white rabbits

Ox

Penguin + dinosaur

Noah (total drama island)

Vision CG (marvel)

Light blue

Bumble bees + lavender

Yellow + ducks

Bearded vulture

Barn owl

Queen barb (trolls world tour)

Oliver (vocaloid)

Light green light brown and beige

Mind (Chonny Jash/CCCC)

Cinnamoroll + emu otori (project sekai)

Yellow+ chicks and puppy stuffies

Seam CG (deltarune)

Plants vs zombies

Viktor (arcane)

Queen of trash CG (Elmo goes to grouch land)

John Constantine (Justice League Dark)

Aziraphale (good omens)

Scenecore

Musa (winx club)

Leap frog

Hyper feminine puppy

Crow + black cat

Totodile + bodies of water

Bees

Sackboy (Little Big Planet) and or My Melody

Baby crocodile

Animal crossing

Pastel kitten

Doki doki literature club

Keralis (Hermitcraft, maybe)

90s grunge

Tula tones (novi stars)

Eevee + dragons

Kitten + stars

Ratchet (rescue bot academy)

Pastel shark

Mikan Tsumiki (Danganronpa)

Mushrooms

Grey + Ross federman youtooz

Sparkly dragon

Blue and purple + puppies

Ducks + alt/Gothic lean

Cinnamoroll

Shadow (sonic)

Jellyfish

Boyfriend.xml (Friday night funkin')

Puppet (fnaf)

Golden retriever + yellow and blue

Bernese mountain dog

Strawberries

Genshin impact

Len or Miku

Toothless (httyd)

Eddworld

Donnie (rise of the tmnt)

The princess and the grilled cheese sandwich

Pastel goth princess

SpongeBob

Karako Pierot (hiveswap)

Young Michael Afton

Soft fox

Great pyrenees + farm

Ike eveland

Invader Zim + neon green

Julius Caesar (Octavian, night at the museum, waiting until March for this one)

Scorpion

Vampire squid

Golden retriever (again, lol)

Cats + playing outside

Border Collie

Tiger

Argos CG (World of Mr. Plant) 

Pochacco

Mortal Kombat

marble cross fox/forest/fantasy (I'm figuring this one out still)

Puppy + SpongeBob

characters from Project Sekai, Hoshino Ichika, Mochizuki Honami, Akiyama Mizuki and Kusanagi Nene.

Baby vulture

Frog with more fem themes

Rain world/slugcat

Dark academia/cottagecore

Border Collie

Modded smash hit rooms

Crying child (fnaf)

Agent Smith CG (the matrix)

Katamari

Enjolras (les miserable)

Rolfe DeWolfe CG (Rockafire Explosion)

Bugbo

Slime rancher

Puppet (fnaf)

CosMc's

Parado (Kamen Rider)

Tally hall

Gordon (all engines go)

Spinel (Steven universe)

Cater diamond (twisted wonderland)

Rockabilly (probably)

Felix Lee

Jing yuan CG (Hsr)

Charles Xavier CG (X-Men)

Toki wartooth (metalocalypse)

Naoto Shirogane (persona 4)

Kitoto (I don't know what he's from)

17th century dutch

Sirena von boo (monster high)

Jake (miss peregrines home for peculiar children)

Minecraft

Sees behind trees

Allay (Minecraft, I think)

Spinosaurus screenshots or products

Tecchou (Bungo Stray Dogs)

Barbara (genshin impact)

Tasmanian devil

Spamton CG (deltarune)

Spinosaurus

Grunge + lop eared bunnies

Yume-Nikki

Daxter (jak and daxter)

Madness combat for puppies

James Sunderland (silent Hill)

Shirokuma (Danganronpa)

Leo (IDW comic)

[hephaestuscrew]

I'm not the first person to say this, but there really is something groundbreaking about the lack of romantic plotlines in Wolf 359.

Wolf 359 is a story aimed at and about adults. It's partly about what it means to be human. It's partly about how we exist in relation to other people. It's partly about interpersonal connection and understanding. It has character relationships at its heart. It features so many moments of love and care between characters. It takes place across just over two years of the characters' lives, with 61 episodes and a main cast that grows to a decent size.

And despite all this, the show doesn't feature a single canonical 'on-screen' romantic (or sexual) relationship. Perhaps that shouldn't be as rare as it is, but it's one of the many things that makes Wolf 359 special to me.

[sapphorror]

hope you don't mind me hopping on to add to this, but i talked about something adjacent on twitter right after my first playthrough of the pristine cut, and I'm kind of obsessed with how well it's executed, especially in some of the new routes. Because the voices, I think, ultimately represent methods of engagement more than anything else. Opportunist is my favorite example to use, because the guy doesn't even want anything concrete, he just lies and cheats and reflexively grabs for anything that could be perceived as power in the moment, because That's His Thing. The Skeptic can't stop questioning, the Hunted is focused on sheer animal survival to the exclusion of all else, and so on.

and none of them are bad perspectives, just so singular in their nature that they can't adapt across contexts, which is never a good thing but maybe especially disastrous when dealing with something like the princess who is, by nature, constantly in flux. while they may not have an agenda the way the narrator does, they do tend to have VERY strong opinions about what you should be doing and how you should be doing it, a whole chorus demanding different things from you. the only semi-exception to this is the hero, whose indecisiveness and, like you said, passivity, are kind of fatal flaws in their own right—though perhaps it isn't very surprising when the meaning of the word 'heroic' has been so thoroughly muddled just by the basic premise of the construct.

and what makes this work is that they all have moments of being extremely helpful, even critical, for carrying you through a situation and moments of being disastrously unsuited to coping with whatever's around them. and this is a balance the pristine cut plays with so well, especially for voices that might've been more skewed in the original game. like you said, it's great at demonstrating the darker or more dangerous side to many of them, but there also a fair number of moments where one of them will absolutely carry—the broken intuitively understanding the trick to the cage, for example, or the cold persevering where even the stubborn falters in the fury (which like, is a little horrifying, but what gets you there gets you there). this makes a lot of the player's job an exercise in deciding who to listen to and when, getting the benefit of different perspectives without latching onto any of them. and ofc because this is slay the princess, what counts as a 'good' and 'bad' result is often ambiguous to begin with and largely up to the player, which just adds another layer of complexity to contend with.

anyway yeah. I love this game so much x2 I guess

something i think is super interesting in the pristine cut is how it really gets into the nuances of the voices, specifically how the voices can go bad. we do see some of this in the original routes, of course, but the additional context and opportunities granted by the new routes and dialogue make it just so much more of a fascinating subject.

namely, none of the voices are fit to be in charge. we know some of them aren't, obviously, with the broken in particular just overtly fucking you over on more than one occasion, but it's not just the "bad" voices that are capable of being a problem if left unchecked. the cage shows how the skeptic sabotages your efforts by refusing to accept the logic of the world. princess and the dragon shows the opportunist will do literally anything to end up on top, including killing YOU. the hunted, who previously was one of the more grounded voices interested in keeping you alive and aware of your surroundings, goes completely feral and violent once given a taste of predatory behavior while fighting the den. even the smitten, largely considered harmless comedic relief, hurts everyone in single-minded pursuit of what he thinks is the perfect ending. of the voices, only the hero is never shown to fuck you over, but he's far too passive and easily overpowered by the other, more insistent voices.

much like how the princesses are only part of the shifting mound, the voices are only part of the long quiet. alone, they're just incomplete fragments, with equally incomplete and flawed ideas of what they want and what to do. "they are only perspectives. they are not me."

overall the pristine cut does so much cool shit to really drive home how similar the long quiet and the shifting mound are, that they are a single being that was messily split in two. quiet and the princess are reflections of each other, each bringing their own perspectives into this relationship, but no single voice and no single perspective gives the full story.

just. god. i love this game so much.

[fragmentedblade]

Also, Ruan Mei was the one who lent the Phase Flame to Ratio, wasn't she?

[unforth]

I'm an OTW member again!

THANK YOU @petralemaitre !

If y'all want to get a membership scholarship before June 30th so you can register and be able to vote in the next OTW election, get all the deets here:

(the post is worth reading even if you don't want the scholarship; it's about End OTW Racism and it's such an accurate write-up of my own thoughts on why I'm involved too, I was like, "wow sharing a brain with a total stranger is so heckin' weird")

Very much lookin' forward to exercising my right to vote! Let's dooooo this!

[josefavomjaaga]

No one is saying he shouldn't be held responsible for his actions, but at the same time it's not fair to turn him into a target of harsh judgment based on misinformation, biased assumptions and personal antipathy.

I guess arguing further will do nothing to align our points of view. But what you wrote above really hit me because spreading misinformation surely was not my intention. I will try to explain and give the information but please bear with me, this will get very long.

I will try to answer this point first and then adress the rest:

My whole point was that it's unfair to make Junot looking so much worse compared to his colleagues, when they were all military men who committed various degree of violence either directly or indirectly.

If Junot looks so much worse than his colleagues then that’s because apparently, in this aspect, he indeed was. Unless of course you can provide evidence that Murat, Soult, Duroc, Eugène, Bessières, Davout etc. also stabbed their wives with scissors? (Or any other woman for that matter. Or any similar acts of physical abuse.) If you can, by all means please do! I would love to change my mind on this.

I know of several incidents when husbands had every reason to suspect their wives of infidelity, Napoleon, Murat, Marmont, Louis Bonaparte, possibly Ney. I am unaware that any of them acted the way Junot did. Did general Foy, whose wife became Junot’s mistress, beat her in retaliation, for example? Heck, as far as I have read not even Hortense, who really describes Louis as the husband from hell in her memoirs, ever mentions any physical abuse.

Treating a woman like this was not normal. If it had been, Junot’s behaviour would not have caused such a scandal all throughout Paris.

I can totally understand hating a historical figure: I loathe some, but they don't deserve slander and constant bashing in serious discourse (and sometimes even some memes are in bad taste).

I really seem to be unable to make myself understood. I do not hate Junot. I do not find him very likeable in many aspects, that much is true, and if he was alive today I’d damn well try to avoid having to deal with him. What I do hate, and what has me truly worried, is how some people seem to normalise his behaviour or now seem to simply project it onto other historical figures (see your own quote above: when they were all military men who committed various degree of violence), in order to make Junot look better. That’s not fair to these other men.

Again, if you have evidence to the contrary, please provide it.

You accused him of murder, an act which has a specific definition you most likely ignored on purpose

I must admit that I did not use the term murder in its legal sense. Guilty as charged. And I’m not a lawperson but if we really want to come down to the question if what Junot did was attempted murder or only attempted manslaughter … well, let’s see if we can find arguments that would support an indictment for murder, shall we?

-> Trigger warning for domestic violence, obviously.

Previously you used the expression "attempted to murder"; now according to the definition, a murder is the unlawful premeditated killing of one human being by another.

Thanks for the definition. So, let’s see in how far Junot’s actions may have indeed been premeditated. The first question would be: when did he first learn about Laure’s affair with Metternich. For this, we have Laure’s testimony (translated from Turquan, La Générale Junot) about her first encounter with her husband after the latter returned to France in October 1808, after the evacuation of Portugal and the Convention of Cintra:

I arrived in La Rochelle. I met Alexandre again, but I found him changed in a thousand ways. He was moody and embarrassed with me. I saw that he was aware of my relationship with M. de Metternich [...].- ’ Would it be true,’ he said, ’that M. de Metternich is your lover? If I only had a notion based on some plausibility...’ And his voice trembled, his eyes wandered: he made me shudder. I hurried over to him: - ’My friend,’ I said to him, ’we are playing strange roles here: you act jealous when it is my turn to get angry [...].’

So, by October 1808, over a year before his attack on Laure, Junot is already more or less informed of what’s going on between Laure and Metternich. The couple merely avoids talking about it, which is all the easier for Laure as Junot is in a bad position to argue about her unfaithfulness, having just been mocked by British newspapers about the size of his serail that the Royal Navy had to transport to France and that was even larger than the one they had transported home from Egypt in 1801. The topic is not adressed further.

By the way, at this point Laure already merely endures marital sex with Junot. (As his spouse, she is in no position to refuse it, just to explain what she will write later.)

It was a fury of love that repelled me instead of attracting me. Often I would pull away from his arms, feeling a sharp pain produced by a bite or too much pressure: the senses were everything, the soul nothing.

Junot then returns to the Iberian peninsula and the siege of Saragossa with his ladyfriends, and Laure returns to Paris and her sweetheart Clemens.

The spouses will only meet again a year later, after the Fifth Coalition War. By that time, Metternich has long left France and has been made Austrian Minister of Foreign Affairs, he and Laure can only exchange letters at the time (that her chambermaid hides for her). The Junot marriage, however, is in full crisis, even if Laure desperately tries to cover it up:

Junot arrived from Zaragoza shortly after me. His mood was gloomy and harsh. He would hurl sarcasm at me in hushed tones; he would say words of love interspersed with insults. It was painful for me, but I submitted to it in atonement for my fault […] [...] However, I could not help noticing how gloomy and morose the Duke was. Sometimes he would look at me for half an hour and I would hear him muttering curses, then he would go out and bang the door violently.

So Junot is already treating Laure badly – while not abusing her physically yet – from October 1809 on, two full months before the Mareschalchi ball on 13 January 1810, and all throughout the winter months. At the bal masqué, hosted by Italian ambassador Mareschalchi, Laure dances in a much admired quadrille and thus has to leave her house early. Before doing so, she presents herself to her husband and asks for his opinion on her outfit.

He looked at me without answering. - 'Do I look bad then?’ I asked him, surprised by his silence. - ‘Bad? No, you look only too fine.' He came over to me and squeezed my hand hard. - 'I sometimes feel like giving you a scar that would disfigure you: you wouldn't look good any more.' This sentence, which would have made me laugh at any other time, made me shiver.

This is a clear threat, several hours before the actual attack.

Laure dances her part in the quadrille and after having changed her costume, she has a walk with Monsieur de la Vaugyuon before returning to the ball room.

We entered the room, which was so full of people that you could hardly move around. I was laughing in response to a remark by Monsieur de la Vauguyon, when I felt my arm being squeezed so violently that I cried out in pain. I turned around and saw a tall figure dressed in a black domino: a black mask covered his face and the mask's beard was agitated by rapid breathing. Monsieur de la Vauguyon's first reaction was to call this mask to account for the insult he was inflicting on a woman to whom he was giving his arm. But I had recognised Alexander and, freeing my arm from his, I took my husband's and, after giving him a sad smile, I was immediately dragged away rapidly by the Duke, who knocked over everything in his path and almost carried me through the streams of masks and joyful groups that filled the halls. When we arrived in the vestibule, he called in a thunderous voice for his people. They hadn't arrived, but mine were there, so we got into my carriage. There, tearing off his mask and beating his chest and face, I heard him utter the most dreadful expletives against M. de Metternich.

At this point, Joseph Turquan decided that "reproducing the scene that took place between the spouses" would be "pointless". So from now on I will translate from Nicole Toussaint du Wast, "Laure Junot, duchesse d’Abrantès", Paris 1985, a book that provides some more citations from Laure's so-called "Journal Intime". We continue from where we left off:

[…] the most dreadful expletives against M. de Metternich. - ’Recommend your soul to God,’ he said, ’you're going to die!’

So, let’s summarise: Junot, after already having threatened her, follows Laure to the ball. He does wear a costume so as to not look out of place. He gets called out on his misbehaviour yet ignores it. He then drags Laure out from the ball and brings her to a place where she is alone with him and entirely in his power, and he does so with the intention of killing her.

As I said, I’m not a lawperson. But I’m pretty sure that a prosecutor might be able to interpret this as a certain level of premeditation. Especially as Junot has suspected the affair between Laure and Metternich for over a year, his bad mood towards her has built up for at least over two months, and the shock of seeing his conspicions confirmed cannot have been that overwhelming but only seems to have given him the final incentive for punishing her.

Continuing from above:

And he shouted, smashing the windows of the carriage. That's how we arrived at the hotel. I couldn't walk. He seized me with the same violence and fury as a tiger taking its prey into its lair, and ran through the rooms, throwing me into an armchair when we reached the bedroom. He had to close the door and, crossing his arms, came and stood in front of me: - 'You have deceived me, betrayed me, dishonoured me,’ he shouted. I know everything.' […]

He then forces Laure through threats to bring him the box containing the letters she had received from Metternich. When she tries to convince him to not open and read them, he in turn tries to force himself on her:

I was crying and couldn't answer. He lifted my head and, wiping my eyes, kissed them, kissed my cheeks, his mouth came close to mine, his lips trembled as they approached my lips: as soon as they touched them, they clung to them with inconceivable strength. He sucked in my breath as if he wanted to draw my soul to himself. My tears redoubled, they probably ecitated him because he wanted to obtain the last favours with an ardour that I could not conceive. There was something ferocious about his caresses that made me shiver. I struggled on, and a sharp bite on my lip gave me new courage […]

And enough strength to free herself. And yes, this is the closest thing to a woman of the early 19th century describing an attempted sexual assault – the word rape she could not even use because at the time there was no such thing as rape in a marriage. To the contrary, in her thinking she had to explain how she dared to refuse her husband.

However, what I think becomes very clear in her description: She was crying – his kisses made her cry even harder which, instead of stopping him, only turned him on further, he was indeed trying to get to "the last favours", and she barely managed to struggle free.

So much about the attempted rape. Let’s get back to the question of attempted murder versus attempted manslaughter:

Furious, Junot then retires and takes the box of letters with him. Laure remains in her bedroom for the whole night. At dawn – this must be several hours after Junot has dragged her from the ball, enough time for even the most agigated mind to calm down somewhat, Junot goes to see the emperor. He returns at 9 am, enters her bedroom, locks the door twice (which I assume could again be understood as evidence of premeditation) and stares at Laure trembling in her bed. He tears a ring off her finger "avec violence", a ring she has received as a souvenir from Metternich, and lets her read a letter he plans on sending to Metternich, challenging him to a duel in Mayence. Laure jumps out of her bed and throws the letter into the fire. At which point…

- ’ You're trembling for him,’ he shouted, ’you wretch, because you still love him, don't you? Oh, tell me! So that I don't feel any remorse when I kill you!’ I was almost lifeless at his feet. - ’Speak a curse on him,’ he cried, ’tell me that you curse him, tell me that you hate him!’

At this point, the author Toussaint du Wast merely summarizes that Junot grabbed a pair of scissors, stabbing Laure in the throat and the chest. The book then continues with Laure’s own words:

He rushed at me and, knocking me over onto the ottoman, put both his hands on my throat, probably to strangle me. Just as I thought I was going to die, I felt his hand slip away and he cried out: - ‘I could never do it’. I opened my eyes and saw his face and hand covered in blood.

Again, summarizing: We are now several hours and one discussion with Napoleon away from the ball at Mareschalchi’s and whatever caused Junot’s original explosion. Junot has had ample time to calm down. Yet it seems that he is instead looking for a reason to go through with the killing that he has planned at least since they went home in the carriage, it seems that he wants Laure to offend him enough to push him over the edge: "Oh, tell me! So that I don't feel any remorse when I kill you!" - Premeditation?

This was not the end of the madness (in fact, Laure actually writes that she thinks this was the first instance of Junot showing his dementia) but the next step then rather involves Eleonore Metternich being dragged into this shitshow, so we can cut off here. It’s gotten long enough, and this is a good point to end because I do want to give credit to Junot for in the end not having the heart to go through with an act he seems to have tried to incite himself to commit.

--- End of ugly domestic violence story ---

Finally, just to adress some of your minor points:

you belittled his military feats as skirmishes

I was referring to the combat of Nazareth (not even Gros’ painting calls it a "bataille"), which seems to be seen as his greatest military feat, took place in the context of a much larger battle (Mount Tabor) and in which Junot commanded 400 cavalry.

How would you feel if someone kept posting about how Eugene Beauharnais was a mediocre lapdog, good only to lick Napoléon's ass?

That’s pretty much how many historians do refer to Eugène most of the time, though they tend to word it differently. So – already there? They do have a point in many cases, too.

Do you know how hard is to discipline oneself, especially if the person in question suffers from addictions - as Junot seemed to - and serious injuries that compromised their brain forever? Again, I'm not saying that mental illness is a justifications for one's acts, but if we really want to judge someone - like you are doing pretty often with Junot - , a little sympathy would be expected.

I’m sorry, but in a situation with a clear victim and a clear perpetrator, like in the case of the attack on Laure, my sympathy immediately seems to go to the victim first and foremost.

you accused him of beating and raping women as something customary to him, without providing evidence.

No, I did not. What I wrote was, in reference to the previous tags:

"Well, admittedly not all evil imperialists who were bad at military tried to rape and murder women..."

Plural "women" because the subject of the sentence "evil imperialists" is also plural. The evil imperialists would not all try to murder "a woman" (i.e. one and the same woman), would they?

And while I cannot provide evidence for Junot habitually mistreating specifically women, I have come across examples of Junot mistreating people who could not defend themselves or of him resorting to violence whenever something displeased him in daily life. But you probably know those better than I do.

[doux-amer]

Sick of this stupid team making the stupidest mistakes and sloppiest passes and their laziness and slowness on the ball and lack of finishing ability. I'm angry at Quansah, but once again, just like our matches against other big clubs, this is down to the whole team being miserably bad. Genuinely wondering if this team even wants to win the league for Klopp before he goes because they sure don't play like it.

[ambrosiagourmet]

I've been thinking about Laios' succubus lately. Mulling it over a bit.

Because I've seen these pages brought up a fair bit, but almost entirely in the context of shipping (on all sides, really). And I really want to understand what they are doing for the story beyond that.

When I went back to reread the scene and section, a few things caught my interest: the way Laios responds to both forms of his succubus, the themes of the volume the chapter is found in, and the other events of the chapter itself.

So let's dive into those three things, and what I think they say about the succubus scene's purpose.

Laios is never fully frozen by the succubus

So. If you compare Marcille and Chilchuck's reactions...

to Laios':

-

There is a difference. Sure, the basics may look the same once it turns into Scylla Marcille, but even then, it functions differently.

Chilchuck and Marcille are completely frozen once they catch sight of their succubus. Izutsumi, as well, isn't able to look away, and completely freezes up once her 'mom' starts talking to her. As Chilchuck describes, "just looking at them makes you unable to move."

And yet, Scylla Marcille has to actively convince Laios to comply. He even looks away from her at one point!

Laios accepts this succubus, but he is never actually helpless to it in the same way. Taken in? Convinced? Sure, at least enough to let things happen that he probably should question more than he does. But magically compelled? Not really. Not the same way as everyone else is. So that's interesting. But let's move on for now.

2. Volume 9 is all about drive and desire

I don't often look at chapters within the context of the volume they are included in, but I think there's some really fun things to be found with that perspective in mind.

For one, volume 9 starts with an exploration of what desire brought Laios to the dungeon:

And ends with a question of what desire brought Laios to the dungeon:

It's also very concerned in general with questions of why people do what they do. Why they are in the dungeon, why they are with the people they are with, why they stay, what they fight for.

In addition to Laios, we see it with Marcille...

Izutsumi

Kabru

and Mithrun

Hell, we even get it for the demon!

It's certainly not the only volume concerned with desires and motives, but it is particularly focused on these ideas.

The succubus scene fits quite well into the ongoing question about desires, especially Laios' desires. It is even placed at an interesting spot within the volume. The volume is six chapters long, and the scene takes place at the start of the 4th chapter. It's almost smack-dab in the middle.

With all this in mind, it is interesting that, with both versions of the succubus Marcille, it's not totally clear which parts of her Laios is rejecting.

The first version of Marcille looks human, but Laios attacks when he identifies her as a monster. The second Marcille looks like a monster, but he seems to believe that she is the real (human)(ish) person that he knows. So is he rejecting the monster at first, and then accepting the person? Or is he rejecting humanity and only interested in the monstrous?

Something to consider as we look at the next point...

3. the rest of the chapter is a seduction, too

This is one of those things that might not be apparent on a first reading, but is crystal clear on a revisit. We see the succubus try and charm Laios over 7 pages, and then see the Winged Lion do the same thing for the next 19.

Much like the succubus, it offers the mingling of monsters and humans. Much like the succubus, it offers belonging.

(and this is the point where I absolutely must also link this post by fumifooms on the succubus, which has some great ideas on how the scene is informed by Laios' trauma and desire for acceptance!!!)

But, back to the point. The Winged Lion wants to feed on Laios just as much as the succubus did, and it uses similar strategies to try and make that happen. Though this chapter isn't really the turning point for the next Lord of the Dungeon (it is Marcille who will, eventually, become the Lion's next victim), it certainly behaves like it is.

Laios is convinced. The succubus gets its meal. By the end of the volume, the reader begins to understand how concerning his desires are. Together, it is all very good at building up that sense of dread and pending disaster, as we see exactly how and why Laios might just fall into the Lion's open arms and bring about the end of the world.

-

So that's the three things I noticed. But there's still something I want to touch on by looking at the way these observations overlap, and what they reveal, together.

As I said, by the end of the volume, you can feel the tension growing. Just as Kabru and Mithrun do, you look back for an answer to the questions that have been built, chapter by chapter: why is Laios here? Where will his loyalties fall? This chapter, and scene, seem to prove the inevitable truth: he will choose the monster, of course. He will choose the seductive, easy power of the Winged Lion.

But the details of what actually happens tell different story: one in which the Lion is wrong.

First, as a reminder - even in Scylla Marcille mode, the succubus never fully entrances Laios. It convinces him, but it doesn't have him completely under its thrall.

Similarly, in the dream, the Lion does convince Laios to embrace the world he is offering. But even within that dream, Laios continues to ask questions that will be vital to him later. It is because of those questions that Laios comes to a new understanding about Thistle.

And it's this realization that he cites later as part of his reason for refusing the Lion's offer.

He is thinking through things the entire time, just like he continues to question the succubus even after it turns into Scylla Marcille.

Laios also expresses an interesting reason for why he wants to see the future of this world. He's not just invested because it would mean people liking what he likes, or him getting to spend time with monsters. The thought that comes immediately before his acceptance is about what he wants for monsters and people.

I don't think it's a coincidence that this statement - "we're living beings that share the same world, but all we can do is keep killing each other" - can apply to the various humans races just as much as it does to humans and monsters. The thing he is thinking about here isn't just a matter of his personal daydreams. It's an idea that underpins every conflict in the story.

Laios caring about how people as well as monsters in this manner is something that the Lion gets wrong every time. Even at the end, he still frames Laios' desires entirely around hating people and loving monsters.

The Lion has heard him express an opinion about the future of the world! It happened right there in the dream, right in front of him! He just didn't take it seriously, and didn't view it through any lens other than "Laios likes monsters more".

He's convinced that he understands how to get to Laios. Maybe the Lion can't truly see everything, or maybe his vision into everyone's deepest desires has made it hard for him to realize how much choice still matters. That people can, and do, choose which desires to act on, and how to act on them.

Whatever the case, he's wrong about Laios, and the story shows us this over and over again.

After all, look at how the succubus interaction plays out:

A monster uses Marcille to appeal to Laios...

He realizes that something about the situation is wrong, and rejects her.

It changes strategies, and makes new offer: to turn him into a monster.

It also assures him that his friends are, or will be, taken care of.

He accepts. Or rather, allows the monster to have its way with him.

But Laios is not as helpless as he initially appears, and what the Lion thinks is a successful seduction also contains the seed of an idea that will allow Laios to later resist him.

We even get to see Izutsumi playing a similar role in both instances, as the one person fully able to take action in the face to the illusion.

The story lays out what is going happen, and then explicitly tells us that the demon and the succubus are thematically related.

The chapter performs a great sleight of hand here - everything about it seems to indicate that Laios is doomed give in to the option to have his deepest desires realized. But if you look closer, it also contains the evidence that he won't. There's a lot more going on for him.

Yes, he still falls for obvious tricks. He is still extremely into monsters, and he still doesn't feel like he fits in with other people. He may, deep down, crave to surrender to the monstrous - to let it absorb him. But he questions more than he seems to. He considers more than people realize. He cares so much more than anyone gives him credit for.

And I think this is part of why we see the succubus called back to so many times, especially with the wolf head addition to his Monster Form, which he specifically added due to his encounter with the Scylla Marcille.

This all stays with Laios. It doesn't just foreshadow the path of the story, it is fundamental to how and why he walks that path. It's not about him choosing monsters, and it's not about him choosing people. It's about how he considers both, and cares about both.

And it's about the forces that think they already know his answer. Mithrun and Kabru. The Winged Lion. The succubus.

It's about how they are wrong.

[jadevine]

Preindustrial travel, and long explanations on why different distances are like that

Update March 1, 2024: Hey there folks, here's yet another update! I reposted Part 2a (the "medieval warhorses" tangent) to my writing blog, and I went down MORE of the horse-knowledge rabbit hole! https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/741423906984951808/my-post-got-cut-off-so-i-added-the-rest-of-it Update Jan 30, 2024: Hey folks, I've posted the updated version of this post on my blog, so I don't have to keep frantically telling everyone "hey, that's the old version of this post!" https://thebalangay.wordpress.com/2024/01/29/preindustrial-travel-times-part-1/

I should get the posts about army travel times and camp followers reformatted and posted to my blog around the end of the week, so I'll filter through my extremely tangled thread for them.

Part 2 - Preindustrial ARMY travel times: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask

Part 2a - How realistic warhorses look and act, because the myth of "all knights were mounted on huge clunky draft horses" just refuses to die: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/732043691180605440/helpful-things-for-action-writers-to-remember

Part 3 - Additional note about camp followers being regular workers AND sex-workers: https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/740604203134828544/reblogging-the-time-looped-version-of-my

--

I saw a post on my main blog about how hiking groups need to keep pace with their slowest member, but many hikers mistakenly think that the point of hiking is "get from Point A to Point B as fast as possible" instead of "spending time outdoors in nature with friends," and then they complain that a new/less-experienced/sick/disabled hiker is spoiling their time-frame by constantly needing breaks, or huffing and puffing to catch up.

I run into a related question of "how long does it take to travel from Point A to Point B on horseback?" a lot, as a fantasy writer who wants to be SEMI-realistic; in the Western world at least, our post-industrial minds have largely forgotten what it's like to travel, both on our own feet and in groups.

People ask the new writer, "well, who in your cast is traveling? Is getting to Point B an emergency or not? What time of year is it?", and the newbies often get confused as to why they need so much information for "travel times." Maybe new writers see lists of "preindustrial travel times" like a primitive version of Google Maps, where all you need to do is plug in Point A and Point B.

But see, Google Maps DOES account for traveling delays, like different routes, constructions, accidents, and weather; you as the person will also need to figure in whether you're driving a car versus taking a bus/train, and so you'll need to figure out parking time or waiting time for the bus/train to actually GET THERE.

The difference between us and preindustrial travelers is that 1) we can outsource the calculations now, 2) we often travel for FUN instead of necessity.

The general rule of thumb for preindustrial times is that a healthy and prime-aged adult on foot, or a rider/horse pair of fit and prime-aged adults, can usually make 20-30 miles per day, in fair weather and on good terrain.

Why is this so specific? Because not everyone in preindustrial times was fit, not everyone was healthy, not everyone was between the ages of 20-35ish, and not everyone had nice clear skies and good terrain to travel on.

If you are too far below 18 years old or too far past 40, at best you will need either a slower pace or more frequent breaks to cover the same distance, and at worst you'll cut the travel distance in half to 10 or so miles. Too much walking is VERY BAD on too-young/old knees, and teenagers or very short adults may just have short legs even if they're fine with 8-10 hours of actual walking. Young children may get sick of walking and pitch a fit because THEY'RE TIREDDDDDDDDDD, and then you might need to stay put while they cry it out, or an adult may sigh and haul them over their shoulder (and therefore be weighed down by about 50lbs of Angry Child).

Heavy forests, wetlands and rocky hills/mountains are also going to be a much shorter "distance" per day. For forests or wetlands, you have to account for a lot of villagers going "who's gonna cut down acres of trees for one road? NOT ME," or "who's gonna drain acres of swamp for one road? NOT ME." Mountainous regions have their traveling time eaten by going UP, or finding a safer path that goes AROUND, so by the time you're done slogging through drier patches of wetlands or squeezing through trees, a deceptively short 10-15 miles in rough terrain might take you a whole day to walk instead of the usual half-day.

If you are traveling in freezing winters or during a rainstorm (and this inherently means you HAVE NO CHOICE, because nobody in preindustrial times would travel in bad weather if they could help it), you run the high risk of losing your way and then dying of exposure or slipping and breaking your neck, just a few miles out of the town/village.

Traveling in TOO-HOT weather is just as bad, because pushing yourself too hard and getting dehydrated at noon in the tropics will literally kill you. It's called heat-STROKE, not "heat-PARTY."

And now for the upper range of "traveling on horseback!"

Fully mounted groups can usually make 30-40 miles per day between Point A and Point B, but I find there are two unspoken requirements: "Point B must have enough food for all those people and horses," and "the mounted party DOESN'T need to keep pace with foot soldiers, camp followers, or supply wagons."

This means your mounted party would be traveling to 1) a rendezvous point like an ally's camp or a noble's castle, or 2) a town/city with plenty of inns. Maybe they're not literally going 30-40 miles in one trip, but they're scouting the area for 15-20 miles and then returning to their main group. Perhaps they'd be going to an allied village, but even a relatively small group of 10-20 warhorses will need 10-20 pounds of grain EACH and 20-30 pounds of hay EACH. 100-400 pounds of grain and 200-600 pounds of hay for the horses alone means that you need to stash supplies at the village beforehand, or the village needs to be a very large/prosperous one to have a guaranteed large surplus of food.

A dead sprint of 50-60 miles per day is possible for a preindustrial mounted pair, IF YOU REALLY, REALLY HAVE TO. Moreover, that is for ONE day. Many articles agree that 40 miles per day is already a hard ride, so 50-60 miles is REALLY pushing the envelope on horse and rider limits.

NOTE: While modern-day endurance rides routinely go for 50-100 miles in one day, remember that a preindustrial rider will not have the medical/logistical support that a modern endurance rider and their horse does.

If you say "they went fifty miles in a day" in most preindustrial times, the horse and rider's bodies will get wrecked. Either the person, their horse, or both, risk dying of exhaustion or getting disabled from the strain.

Whether you and your horse are fit enough to handle it and "only" have several days of defenselessness from severe pain/fatigue (and thus rely on family/friends to help you out), or you die as a heroic sacrifice, or you aren't QUITE fit enough and become disabled, or you get flat-out saved by magic or another rider who volunteers to go the other half, going past 40 miles in a day is a "Gondor Calls For Aid" level of emergency.

As a writer, I feel this kind of feat should be placed VERY carefully in a story: Either at the beginning to kick the plot off, at the climax to turn the tide, or at the end.

Preindustrial people were people--some treated their horses as tools/vehicles, and didn't care if they were killed or disabled by pushing them to their limits, but others very much cared for their horses. They needed to keep them in working condition for about 15-20 years, and they would not dream of doing this without a VERY good reason.

—

UPDATE January 13: Several people have gotten curious and looked at maps, to find out how a lot of cities are indeed spread out at a nice distance of 20-30 miles apart! I love getting people interested in my hyperfixations, lol.

But remember that this is the space between CITIES AND TOWNS. There should never be a 20-mile stretch of empty wilderness between City A and Town B, unless your world explains why folks are able to build a city in the middle of nowhere, or if something has specifically gone wrong to wipe out its supporting villages!

Period pieces often portray a shining city rising from a sea of picturesque empty land, without a single grain field or cow pasture in sight, but that city would starve to death very quickly in preindustrial times.

Why? Because as Bret Devereaux mentions in his “Lonely Cities” article (https://acoup.blog/2019/07/12/collections-the-lonely-city-part-i-the-ideal-city/), preindustrial cities and towns must have nearby villages (and even smaller towns, if large and prosperous enough!) to grow their food for them.

The settlements around a city will usually be scattered a few miles apart from each other, usually clustered along the roads to the city gates. Those villages and towns at the halfway point between cities (say 10-15 miles) are going to be essential stops for older/sick folks, merchants with cargo, and large groups like noble’s retinues and army forces.

Preindustrial armies and large noble retinues usually can’t make it far past 10-12 miles per day, as denoted in my addition to this post. (https://www.tumblr.com/jadevine/739342239113871360/now-for-a-key-aspect-that-many-people-often-ask )

[thinkinonsense]

PAST LIFE⋆

dofp!logan howlett x mutant fem!reader

cw:fingering, cursing, dirty talk, mentions of motherhood, fluff

masterlist

logan should've known when he accepted the mission to come go back in time to stop the sentinels that you would still be here.

"is there an issue here, hank?"

the sound of your voice made logan's heart flutter. you were barely peaking out from behind the door but logan could see you just fine. he couldn't stop staring.

"no, everything's fine." hank assured you. just as you turned to return to charles's office, you heard the door burst open. this handsome stranger hits hank right in the nose before continuing up the stairs to you.

logan had to take you in for a second. his beautiful future wife stood in front of him and had absolutely no clue that they were married because she was only twenty-five years old.

had you always been this gorgeous? was that even fair? all of these were questions that floated around in his mind.

"who are you and what do you want?" you asked as he reached out to touch you.

"so you've always been this beautiful, huh, princess?" he purred, tucking away a piece of your hair behind your ear.

sure, he was attractive in his brown leather jacket and sunglasses but this man looked in his mid-forties. logan was too busy staring down at your frilly yellow babydoll dress to notice where you were looking at him. his left hand; more specifically the gold band on his ring finger.

"i don't mess with married men." you glare at him. he can't help but chuckle darkly down at your innocence.

"oh, my wife wouldn't mind."

god, logan felt like such a pervert for coming on to you but he couldn't help it. your ethereal beauty was unreal. not that you have aged much since the present day, as you two have the slow aging processes in common. older hank would always tell logan that he should be lucky that you agreed to date him because there were plenty of people who would love to take his place. sure, logan believed him but now, he really understood what hank meant.

"where's charles at, sweetheart?" logan asks, inhaling your floral sent.

before you can respond, charles comes barreling down the stairs drunkenly calling after you.

"where've you been?" he asked you then turned to logan. "who the hell are you?"

this should be good.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

"how do we know that you're actually from the future?" you asked, sitting atop charles desks, swinging your legs. hank and charles stood outside in the hallway discussing whether or not to trust logan.

"you've always been this stubborn?" logan says under his breath, rolling his eyes.

"how do we even know each other in the future?" you finally asked.

for the past hour, this man has tried to sell this absurd story about how future charles and magneto sent him here together to save mutants from sentinels. so far he's managed to convince charles but hank and you were still on the fence.

"we're married, sweetheart." logan smirks wickedly.

there was absolutely no way that you two were married. this man is grumpy, mean-looking, and wears dark brown leather. you are an academic scholar who adores pastels and helping other mutants. he had to have you mistaken.

you squint up at him and laugh, "we are married?"

logan nods, walking over to you until he's standing between your legs.

"tell me something only i would know then."

"your favorite ice cream flavor is strawberry, you hate the cold and winter, anytime you drink coffee you get nightmares, your favorite color is green, but your favorite shade is the color my eyes get when i look at you." logan could see the way your eyes widen, slowly starting to believe him more and more. he couldn't help but feel cocky. "would you like me to continue?"

"im not sure... think you're gonna have to prove it. another way." you challenge him. logan's hand trails up your thigh, playing with the soft yellow material.

"c'mon sweetheart, this is too easy." he mutters against your neck, placing soft kisses and nibbling on the skin.

logan knew you like the back of his hand. he knew exactly what you liked and disliked. sometimes you would even tell him that he knew you better than you knew yourself.

"you like when i pull your bottom lip when we kiss. you blush every time i offer for you to sit on my face. one of your favorite ways to fuck is pressed up against a wall or bent over a table..." logan could go on and on.

"we do that...?" you whisper embarrassed by this version of yourself, trying to avoid his burning gaze.

"oh, all the time. sometimes you pull me down on the floor when i come home, begging to ride me right then and there." logan says, once he captures your attention again. you chew on your bottom lip adorably.

a small whimper passes your lips before you remember that hank and charles aren't that far away from the room. one of your hands comes up to logan's chest, slightly pushing him back despite not wanting to.

"w-we should stop." you warn him. "they can hear us."

this was when logan knew that you hadn't discovered part of your mutation yet. he had already assumed that you hadn't but this confirmed it.

"need you to relax, princess," he says, moving higher up to your jaw. your body betrays everything your mouth says, eating out of the palm of his hand. "i promise once you relax, it'll feel like time has stopped."

logan's lips taunt yours; not quite giving you what you want. fed up, you overpower him and push his lips into yours. the only word floating around in your head was 'relax'.

carefully, logan lays you back on the desk. something about being held in the stranger's arms set you at ease; maybe he was your husband?

"you don't know this yet..." logan huffs. "but you can stop time."

you scoff, thinking that you caught him in a lie. "no, i can't."

"if you relax like i said, then you can." logan mutters against your collarbone.

one of his hands slides up your thigh while the other rubs circles on your hip bone. was this wrong of you? if he is telling the truth –and it seems like he is– then technically he is your husband and it's not wrong to mess around with your husband.

"open up for me, babydoll." logan mumbled against your collarbones, placing wet kisses and nibbling on the delicate skin.

your legs spread with ease as his callused fingers rub over your cotton panties. the soft material of your dress is bunched at your tummy as he tugs your panties off, pocketing them for himself. his thumb returns to rub your button.

"p-please..." you whimper, looking up at logan with bambi eyes. "need more."

"anything for you, princess." he groans, slipping two fingers inside of you as gently as he can. this earned a loud moan from you when he nudged that spot deep in your gummy walls with ease.

"see how well i know my wife?" logan gloats, pressing soft kisses to your lips but never letting you catch him. "you usually prefer it rougher than this but i'm not cruel."

"y-you can go... can go faster." you pant, never having anything quite his size yet.

"i don't want to hurt you, baby." he says in a condescending tone. "wanna know something 'bout the future?"

it was difficult but you managed to nod your head despite how clearly fucked out you were at this point.

"a couple weeks ago, you came home telling me how much you want to be a mom; how you've always wanted to be a mom." he pulls back to look at your pretty face, lust darkening your eyes and slick pouring out of you, practically dripping down his palm onto the desk. "so, every chance we get alone you've been begging for me to go raw inside of you."

logan loved how even as you're all spread out for him, you're still blushing at his filthy words.

"look at you, blushing while you soak my hand." he mocks with a smirk.

"i'm s-so close, please!" you beg so politely.

his thick fingers pick up the pace as you clench down on them; jaw dropped and head thrown back. logan's other hand supports your back while your cute painted blue nails dig into his wrist as your climax starts to wash over you.

"hey sweetheart, look out the window." he chuckles, moving your chin to stare hazily out the glass window.

you couldn't believe it. every car, bird, street light, everything was stopped. everything but you and logan.

"how did you know that i could...?"

"you can't always control it but when you calm your mind, it's easier for you to do it."

"does it always happen when we...?"

"when we have sex...?" logan chuckles as you hide yourself in his chest. you nod. "no. over time you've found ways to control it. sometimes if we need more time, you might manipulate it."

"future me sounds cool." you giggle, lifting up to look at him. "how do we meet?"

"i can't tell you that." he smiles.

"well, then where are you in this timeline? how can i meet you sooner?"

"i'm not a very good man during this time, baby. you'll meet me when the time is right."

"what if you don't want me then? how do you know we will still get together?"

logan looks down at your pouty lips, swiping his thumb across it.

"i'll always come back for you. no matter the timeline or where we are in life; i'll find you again."

"promise?"

"i promise you, sweetheart. don't worry that beautiful mind of yours." he assures, kissing the tear strolling down your cheek.

logan reaches down and kisses you tenderly, pulling you out of the time freeze. suddenly the door swings open on the two of you. thank god, logan had quick reflexes, pulling your dress back down to cover you.

charles calls your name and then asks, "what are you doing?"

"it's okay, he's my husband."

a loud laugh escapes logan at your lovey-dovey tone, almost making hank and charles eyes fall out of their heads. you couldn't wait to meet logan again in the future.

[lymtw]

"Come here," Toji says, at the sight of the involuntary pout that works wonders to express your internal, dispirited mood. His attention is divided very unevenly between you and the movie playing on the TV, you holding the greater part of his focus. He's watching you for his own peace of mind, hoping that every time you take a break from the movie, to check your phone, you'll spare him a look. You've been quieter than he knows you to be, and you're not sitting even remotely close to him. He's on one side of the couch and you're on the other side.

A few seconds pass since Toji spoke up, and he wonders if you even heard him in the first place, because you didn't respond. He passes on repeating himself when you shift your eyes from the TV to meet his gaze, and though your gloominess isn't because of him, you can't offer him any sort of indication that you're good.

"Sorry, i'm not in the mood to take my clothes off, Toji," you say, your voice a gentle, pitiful excuse for sound. If your voice could be seen, it would be similar to the tragic way that grass blades slowly try to stand up, after being stepped on. If the sound of your voice could be felt, it would be the void-like, almost nauseating feeling in your stomach, that comes with ignored hunger. You sound detached from the bright person Toji knows, and clearly, you're not okay.

"I'm not asking you to undress yourself. I want you to come to me," Toji responds. "You're sitting so far over there, away from me, like I did something to you. For being the most reasonable person I know, this isn't fair, at all." His eyes stay on you as he awaits your response, but he is only met with the sight of you looking down at your hands.

"Be fair. You didn't help me get better at communicating, just to turn the tables on me like this." His tone is sharper, out of urgency. He wants to know what he can do for you, but it's hard to do that when you're there, yet, not there. "Just... come here, ma," Toji tries again, his voice a little softer and understanding. "Please. Let's talk about anything." He pats his thigh, directing you to one of the reserved spots he holds for intimate conversations with you.

You know Toji's stubbornness will not leave you alone. It's impossible to hide anything from him once he's onto you, so you stop prolonging the inevitable and silently do as he says.

You turn off the TV, before walking over to him and settling on his lap. You sit there, with a racing heart, because Toji's attention feels like a spotlight on you. His hands interlock at the small of your back and rest there, as he waits for you to say something. Silence invades the moment while you figure out where to start.

"What's wrong?" He asks, when there is no attempt to speak made by you. Immediately, your throat begins to ache, and your eyes start to sting. It's a question known for breaking people, and you're on the brink of becoming another victim. You think you can widen your eyes to keep them dry or blink away the tears, but the outcome doesn't favor you. Toji's hands shift so that they're splayed out on your lower back. They move up and down in soothing motions, as if he's trying to coax your strong emotions out with the comforting gesture. Like a gloomy sky finally giving in to rain, you cave in to vulnerability.

"Baby?" Toji calls, watching as sadness takes over your features. He sighs as he pulls your twinkly-eyed self into his tight embrace. He hates when you cry. The sound and the sight is the equivalent of pouring acid on his heart. It's torture for him to see that his baby, his sweetheart, his love, has been reduced to streams of tears, but he knows that getting it all out is for your own good. This is the 'alcohol in the wound' part of the process. You don't want to do it, but you'll feel better, afterwards. Just like a real physical wound, Toji will make you get it done. Scream if you must, curl into him like you are trying to go through him, he's not going to abandon you.

"Just breathe, sweet girl," he instructs, when he hears the heart wrenching sound of your stuttered breaths. "Breathe. Give me a good one," he says, rubbing your upper back. You inhale, the act still heavily stuttered, before you exhale. "Good. Again." You repeat the process and get the same trembling breath as a result.

"Fuck," you choke out. Your head feels like it's pulsing, your abdomen burns, your chest feels heavy, as if you have chains tightly wrapped around your torso, and your throat aches. It's all so overwhelming, you feel like there's a disastrous storm ruining you from within.

"Sweetheart, please breathe. You're gonna turn blue any minute now." Toji can't hold you any tighter without crushing you, but he wants to, so badly. This is the lowest he's ever seen you and it's killing him. He has never made you this upset. It's hell to even imagine what you must have endured to get to this point.

"You're safe. I have you," he says, bringing a hand up to cradle the back of your head. "I'm here, baby."

Toji's shoulder is damp from your waterfalls of tears and he can feel an excessive amount of heat radiating from your trembling body. Your crying ceases and all that can be heard are sharp, short inhales and puffs of air, as you try to regulate your breathing. Toji continues running his hands over your back, soothing the tired, tense muscles of your shoulder blades.

"We are gonna have to talk about this later, doll. I know that might not sound like the most fun thing to do, but it'll make you feel better. I want you to feel better."

Toji is mindful of your silence. He knows your voice isn't in the best condition to speak after your surge of emotions, and you're probably exhausted, but this isn't a dead end for him. He'll figure out your needs, and he'll take care of you. Anything to bring your happy, smiling face, back.

Toji allows you to pull away from his shoulder, and instantly takes in the sight of your pretty, ruined face. You don't look at him, and he assumes that your appearance is to blame. Your eyes, they're red and puffy, glimmering in the light with your now contained feelings, and you're still sniffing like you need to blow your nose. It's terrible to see you this way, but he would withstand much more than this, if you needed it.

"How does a bath sound, for now? A bath and then some food? You hungry, mama?" He asks, his expression involuntarily soft, as he runs the pads of his thumbs beneath your eyes, attempting to clean you up a little.

"No," you say, quietly, with the fragility that remains of your voice.

"I'm gonna pick up some food while you relax." Toji almost laughs at the subtle roll of your eyes. "That's my bad. I shouldn't have asked in the first place. You need to eat something."

He doesn't want to put you through any more stress, but when he needs to take care of you, during times like this, he knows what you need more than you do. Your reasoning is clouded by your emotions, and you'll let go of yourself, because your thoughts rewind over and over to what's plaguing your mind. Toji knows you'll be glad he did this for you when you feel better.

"Let's get that bath ready," he says, securing your legs around his waist, before he stands up from the couch. Your face is buried in the crook of his neck, and you breathe in his scent, until you reach the bathroom.

Toji flicks the light on and sets you down on the counter. A chaste kiss is pressed to your tearstained cheek, before he lets you go so he can prepare your bath. You turn your head to look at yourself in the mirror and hate the messy sight before you—the product of your meltdown. You turn on the cold water and splash some on your face, hoping to decrease the puffiness of your eyes, even just a little bit, while Toji is busy. You dry your face afterwards and check your appearance in the mirror, again, to clean up any remaining gunk in your eyes.

When you finish, you turn back, just in time to watch Toji rise from his knelt position by the bathtub. He makes his way back to you and stands between your legs, offering you a contemplative look, and a "hm" to go along with it. No words are exchanged when his hand reaches out to gently cup your jaw, allowing him to turn your head in any way he wants. He leans forward to examine you more closely, to check if anything is "broken". He can see you pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh, as he continues to snoop around.

"Oh," he says, like he found a cable that has simply been disconnected. He turns your head a little, and keeps inspecting the problematic area, building up the suspense for you. You couldn't say it, but him finding something scared you a little, considering you had just looked at your reflection and didn't see anything.

"Don't move, doll. I'll get it." His hand rests on your shoulder, the other on your thigh, as he leans in closer and closer, until his body heat coils around you. He presses a kiss to the side of your neck. It's featherlight, almost like a gentle breeze. Another one lands on the same area, then another, and another, until he hears your little laugh, a sound that brought both of you mutual relief. Your relief came from understanding that Toji didn't actually find anything off, while Toji's came from the miracle of him being able to make you laugh, after what went down not that long ago.

"Two seconds, ma," he says, beneath your ear. He pulls away from you and goes back to the now foam covered, sweet smelling bathtub. He leans down to turn the faucet off, and returns to you, afterwards.

"It's all ready for you," he says. A smile curls on his lips when you raise your arms, signaling for him to pull your shirt off. "You wanna keep your bra and underwear on?" He asks, as he pulls the hem of your shirt up. You nod, just before the material goes over your head. He sets it aside and helps you down, off the counter, so you can take your sweatpants off. You pull your phone out of your pocket and set it on the counter. Your fingers hook into the waistband of your sweatpants and tug downwards, until they just slide down your legs and allow you to step out of them.

Toji watches you carefully step over the edge of the tub, one foot sinking through the foam and into the warm water, followed by your other foot. You crouch down, slowly, until you are able to sit down and eventually lay back. You close your eyes once you're in a comfortable position and just let the warm water and the pretty smell work its magic on you.

Toji kneels beside you, and observes you in a more serious manner than before. His gaze lingers on those tired eyes of yours, for longer than any of your other facial features. Your eyelids are still swollen and the bags beneath your eyes are prominent. The longer he stares, the more he thinks back to how you were so distressed, to the point where you forgot how to breathe for a few seconds. It scared him. He didn't get a single word about what was wrong, from you. You couldn't say anything other than that single curse, but even then, you sounded like you were being strangled by your own emotions.

Toji knows this is only a temporary fix— this calm sight of you resting in a bubble bath. Your feelings won't be swept under the rug, because he knows that if it were him going through this exact situation, you wouldn't just give him a hug and call it a day. No, when you take care of his mind and heart, you hold him in your arms and don't let go until he's the one trying to cage himself in your embrace when your arms loosen around him. You keep your voice at an intimate volume as you tell him about your day, because sometimes he isn't immediately ready to talk about what is bothering him, but he still wants to hear you. You cook for him, you give his tired body massages, you shower him with love and affection, and when he's finally ready to tell you what's going on, you listen closely to everything he has to say and you offer him your utmost support. You love and protect him to no end, and he has become shamelessly clingy towards you, because of it.

He wants you to feel as loved as he does. He wants you to know what it's like to experience the same level of care you give him. He may not be able to replicate it to a T, but he's willing to try for you.

"Hey," Toji calls, tenderly running the knuckle of his index finger back and forth, over your cheek. You hum, and blink open your eyes, giving him your attention. "I'm gonna go get us some food. Stay on the phone with me and keep me company until I get back, yeah?"

You nod. "Yeah, okay. Can you bring me my phone, please?"

Toji gets back on his feet and takes one large step towards the counter, retrieving your phone, before taking that same step back to leave it next to you, on the edge of the bathtub.

"Be right back, doll. Pick up the phone as soon as I call, okay?"

"Okay."

His hands grip the edge of the bathtub, to prevent him from falling in, as he leans in to peck your cheek once more. His weight shifts onto one arm so he can bring a hand to your face and rub the kiss into your skin with his thumb.

"Love you, ma."

"Love you, too."

With that, Toji stands up straight and heads towards the door. He takes one last look at your pretty face, before exiting the bathroom and closing the door behind him. He grabs his phone from the couch, his keys from the hook on the wall, and messily slides his shoes on, not bothering to put them on correctly, since he won't be getting out of the car, anyways. He secures the inside of the house, before heading out, and once he's outside, he finds his house key and locks the door. He fishes his phone out of his pocket and makes haste of clicking the phone icon, and then your contact, as he keeps walking to the car. His phone is now against his ear, and he listens as the line rings once... twice...

"Hi, Toji."

"Hi, baby."

[nobodysuspectsthebutterfly]

Somewhere beneath those roofs, the Sons of the Harpy were gathered, plotting ways to kill her and all those who loved her and put her children back in chains. Somewhere down there a hungry child was crying for milk. Somewhere an old woman lay dying. Somewhere a man and a maid embraced, and fumbled at each other's clothes with eager hands. But up here there was only the sheen of moonlight on pyramids and pits, with no hint what lay beneath. Up here there was only her, alone. She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman's pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon? —ADWD, Daenerys II

Interviewer: One could argue that more can be learned about everyday politics from your novels than from the newspaper.

George: I did indeed intend to make politics one of the main themes of these novels. I hope to make my readers reflect on political issues. For example, when Daenerys Targaryen conquers a city of slave traders and tries to rule it, she realizes that good intentions alone do not make a government program. There is a series of very difficult decisions to make and, no matter what you do, people will hate you.

Interviewer: Even if one has three dragons.

George: Exactly. The dragons are metaphors.

Interviewer: Virtually the nuclear weapons of your world.

George: The most terrible weapon! However, they don't put you in a position to abolish poverty, make everyone love you, or lead a happy life. You can very well use them to burn things down, to destroy your enemies, cities, and entire cultures, but that doesn't solve the problem of good governance.

- George R.R. Martin, The Father Of Fire And Ice

[fandomislife03]

Ok ok ok SO!

I think everyone has realized that Leola was autistic. It was heavily implied both through the flashback images and Aaravos' narration-

She lined up her toys, flapped her hands (it was also shown in the trial scene), seemed to be sensitive towards loud sounds (like the other startouch elves when they talked), and walked on her tiptoes. All of those are classic signs of autism.

But there's one thing I haven't seen anyone else bring up, and that's that her giving her human friends magic and breaking the "cosmic order" or whatever could also be because of her neurotype!

Autistic people tend to have very strict senses of morality and fairness, and will disregard rules if they don't fit their idea of right or wrong. Personal example here, I used to constantly do things I was told not to because I thought the rules in question were bogus.

It's not hard to guess that Leola would find the rules about humans not having magic to be unfair- after all, her and all the other elves, and even the animals around them are full of it! So in the mind of an autistic child, this would be incredibly unfair. And she had the power to "fix" the situation! So why wouldn't she?

Why wouldn't she try to help her friends? Because it would break the cosmic order? That's vague as hell and she was a KID!

And the startouch elves atomized her, for breaking a rule she probably only half understood and thought was stupid. Because she was autistic.

Had this thought and wanted to share, makes the whole thing even more tragic.

[heich0e]

yuuji calls sukuna a lot.

it's almost like second nature to him now, muscle memory even, so many years since getting his first cellphone; any time he finds himself idle, maybe on his walk home after his part-time job, or on a break between his college classes, he picks up his phone and dials his older brother without thinking. they never talk about anything of importance—maybe just what yuuji did that day, or some gossip he overheard, or what the two of them should have that night for dinner—but he still makes the call.

sukuna always acts annoyed when he answers, greeting him with a characteristically terse 'yeah, what?' that yuuji never pays any mind to. but he still answers the call—at least most of the time—and that simple truth speaks volumes in and of itself.

sukuna's phone rings at a few minutes past 1am, and his little brother's name lights up the caller ID.

"yeah, what?" sukuna snaps groggily, holding his phone up to his ear. he'd passed out on the couch soon after he got home from work, a half-drunk and now room temperature can of beer left abandoned on the table in front of his spread knees. yuuji's babbling starts as soon as the call connects and his brother greets him, and it takes sukuna a moment to make sense of him.

"—'n now i can't finder!"

"the hell are you talking about, dumbass?" the elder of the two grumbles, scrubbing a hand across his face. his brother's voice is panicked and hard to understand.

"we got spliddup at the bar, 'n now i dunno where she is anymore—"

"don't know where who is? fuck, are you hammered?" sukuna complains, sitting himself upright on the sofa as he wipes sleep from the corner of his eyes, suddenly a bit more awake than he was when the phone first rang.

yuuji says your name with a croaking, worried voice, and sukuna sighs exasperatedly. he stares down pensively at the can of beer he forgot to drink on the coffee table, then his eyes flicker to a framed photo hanging on the wall across the room—the glass smudged, frame slightly crooked, and photograph sun-bleached from the years it's spent hanging there.

"just..." he grunts as he pushes himself up to his feet, "fuckin' send me the address and stay where you are, idiot."

it's not hard to find his little brother once he arrives to the address yuuji sent him—especially since the youngest itadori brother is waiting (as promised) right by the entrance of the familiar bar near the university campus where both you and yuuji attend classes. it's still busy for so late in the night, but the clubs are closed now and little bars like this are the only places still open. sukuna's not even sure what the difference is anyway, because the lights here are still dim and the music is loud and there are still people dancing off to one side of the establishment, so the distinction between the two seems tenuous if not entirely negligible. but as someone who's spent his fair share of nights in bars just like (and including) this one, he's usually not really one to complain.

but tonight's different.

yuuji is teetering a bit when his brother arrives—an unusual sight, considering he's usually pretty good at holding his liquor.

"shit, how much did you drink?" are the first words out of sukuna's mouth when he approaches.

the youngest itadori's cheeks are flushed as pink as his hair, and he grimaces in the wake of the eldest's question—he's always been a terrible liar, especially when it comes to his brother, so he doesn't even bother trying to deny it. sukuna doesn't wait for a response in any case, turning his head towards the thick of the crowd and letting his eyes scan through it.

he doesn't see you.

"where'd you see her last?" he asks, leaning towards his brother to be heard over the music.

"by the bar!" yuuji replies, raising his own voice to overcome the bass. "she said she was getting one last drink, but she never came back to the table."

yuuji's lip wobbles a bit as he concludes his sentence, but he sucks it quickly into his mouth and catches it between his teeth.

"and you looked for her?" sukuna asks again.

"all over," yuuji nods, letting his lip slip out from between the bite of his incisors to reply. "fushiguro's doing another lap. nobara's checking the bathrooms."

sukuna ruffles a hand through his hair, suddenly realizing it's probably a mess from his rudely-interrupted slumber. "maybe she just left or somethin'."

"she wouldn't do that, you know that," yuuji says firmly. there's an insistence burning behind his eyes as he looks to his older brother, and it's the most sober he's seemed all night.

sukuna rolls his eyes, even though he knows yuuji's right—you'd never leave on your own, much less without so much as a goodbye. the two of you have been joined at the hip for long enough he's almost surprised that yuuji wasn't able to find you with some weird telepathic form of echolocation. he swings an arm up over his little brother's shoulders pushing him down a little just to tease him, before using his grip to tug him towards the crowd.

"you track down that little sea urchin friend of yours and i'll take a look around. meet me back here in ten minutes or text me if you find that little pest, alright?"

the bar is harder to navigate the further in sukuna travels from the entrance, the bodies pressing closer together with every step he takes away from fresh night air. he's pissed off, but that's not out of character for him. he's more pissed off than he usually is, considering not even an hour before he'd been peacefully sleeping at home, and now he's glaring at some drunk college kid who just almost spilled their beer on him.

"move," he hisses through his teeth at the wide-eyed kid whose life he can practically see flashing through his eyes as he shoulders past him. sukuna would be lying if he said the look didn't improve his mood at least marginally.

as sukuna weaves through the bodies in the bar, his eyes don't stop looking for you. it's almost startling how quickly he can rule people out—how definitively he can say that someone is or isn't you with just a passing glance. he starts to doubt himself as he reaches the far corner of the bar and begins to round back towards the entrance, an annoying, grating irritation in the back of his mind. worry, maybe, if he were the type.

then he sees you.

just the faintest glimpse of your profile, caught behind the shoulder of the man who has you backed into a corner by a pillar, hidden mostly away from the crowd—at least as hidden as anyone can be in a place like this.

sukuna feels his lip curling into a furious sneer as he takes a step towards you—people move out of his path wordlessly as he trudges over to that dark corner where you're tucked away.

it's only when he gets a bit closer that he's able to read the lines of your body properly. you're teetering, just like yuuji had been—the two of you had probably enabled each other in your intoxication that night like the stupid kids sukuna knows you both to be. but you're also distinctly uncomfortable, pressed up against the wall as if to put as much distance between you and the man hovering over you as you possibly can. your eyes glance off to the side, like you're searching uselessly for an escape.

instead, they meet his.

"sukuna," you gasp out in surprise, and the man you're speaking to glances over his shoulder in confusion. he seems annoyed, and a bit nervous, when he spots the man (taller, and broader than he is) standing behind him with a scowl.

sukuna hears the relief in your voice when you say his name. reads it behind your glassy eyes.

"what are you doing here?" you ask, reaching out towards him clumsily.

the man in front of you puts a hand on your waist—possibly to steady you, more likely to stop you—and it makes sukuna see red.

"hands off," sukuna snaps, wrapping a hand around your upper arm and tugging you into his side away from the creep.

"who's this? you said you don't have a boyfriend," the kid asks you, jutting a thumb towards sukuna accusatorially.

you mumble something quietly in reply about him being yuuji's brother, tucking yourself a bit closer to sukuna as you say it.

"your brother?" he asks as his eyes squint in confusion, having clearly only caught part of your explanation. "you're ditching me for your brother?"

sukuna's anger flares again at the entitlement this little brat has the nerve to display so flagrantly. the older man's hand slips down to your waist on instinct, and then lower still to the curve of your ass, making a show of how his big hand grips into the flesh beneath it. you squeak quietly at the contact, turning and hiding your burning face against sukuna's chest. he keeps his hand right where it is.

the stranger's eyes widen at the inappropriate display before him and sukuna leans in close with a vicious, almost manic grin.

"we're very close."