#considering the weight of her unhealthy feelings for him and all

[deus-ex-mona]

the best part of the kawaikute gomen manga was when she said “IT’S KAWAIKUTE GOMEN TIME” and kawaikute gomen-ed all those guys

[phyrestartr]

Divine Favour | Sukuna x Kitsune!Reader (Pt.4 | END)

W/C 7.2k #NSFW, male!reader, top!reader, bottom!sukuna, ABO elements, heian sukuna, typical kitsune shapeshifting, jp mythology, canon typical violence, morally grey reader, unhealthy relationships, questionable relationships, power imbalance, ABO elements, gojo/megumi/yuuji/nobara cameos, yuuji/megu/nobara are early 20s, sukuna is controlling/possessive/obsessive, rough sex, not edited enough (oh well) Note: It's finally over (dies like Noctis)

tags: @kamote-kuneho @kamote-kuneho @nyanwko @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @3zae-zae3 @chibiduck @kiiyoooo @lukaijah @memedealer-exe @f0th3rr @boretheral @cicithemess @paastaboi @someone0vx

“Google says kitsune are usually attuned to one of the thirteen elements,” Nobara prattled, scrolling through the random Japanese mythology website on her phone. “Itadori, what's his element, huh?” 

Yuuji pursed his lips, face growing deadpan as he thought and quickly realized he had no clue.

“Uh…” 

Nobara grimaced. “Useless.” 

“Hey, I didn't know they were all, y'know, elemental-y, okay?! Jeeze!” 

Megumi sighed and shook his head. “We're supposed to be keeping an eye on him, not arguing about garbage you found online.” 

The two country bumpkins followed Megumi's gaze to where you snoozed under a tree. It felt a little strange seeing you donned in one of college's spare uniforms, but you seemed quite pleased by the modern take on fashion and aesthetic. Yuuji wondered if you'd take to modifying the plain, black clothes the way you'd done so in the past.

“Oi, kyuubi!” Nobara called as she wandered in your direction, much to the chagrin of Megumi. “I got a question for ya.”

You spared her a sleepy glance before sitting up and stretching with a wide, toothy yawn. It almost took the three aback, seeing how sharp and distinctly not-human your teeth were.

“You and everyone else, evidently.” You hummed and combed your tail with your fingers. “Speak.”

“Is it true that your kind are, like, elemental or something?” 

Megumi sighed as he rolled up beside her. “She means to ask if kitsune are elementally-attuned, whether it be to fire, water, earth–that sort of thing.” 

“I literally just said that!” Nobara hissed as she smacked Megumi's arm. The raven didn't react in the slightest. 

“Yeah!” Yuuji piped up. His face grew red as soon as your lazy stare flicked to him. “I-I, uh–like, y'know, fire. Or…you talked about fire?” 

“You are so tactless. It's starting to get sad.” 

“Can it, Kugisaki!” 

You smiled. “It's true, more or less. I was taught my sort usually falls into one of the thirteen elements: celestial, wind, spirit, darkness, fire, earth, river, ocean, forest, mountain, thunder, sound, and time.

“Then, there are the broadly ‘bad’ sort, nogitsune, and the ‘good’ sort, zenko. Most say only zenko reach total divinity, but that's not always the case.” 

“Yikes, so the bad kitsune can be gods too?” Yuuji asked as he sat down with you and pulled at the grass idly. “Isn't that, y'know, bad?”

“Gods are all inherently bad, as far as I'm concerned,” you said.

“Gojo-sensei mentioned you were one,” Megumi offered as he and Nobara sat, too. “A god. The people revered you.” 

You snorted and covered your mouth the way you might have if you had the long sleeves of a kimono to aid you.

“They didn't mind me. I don't think they particularly liked me, considering what company I kept.” You hummed and straightened out your sleeve. 

“Yeah, but…you're not him, so what's the point in hating you?” Yuuji asked, and you couldn't help but feel more weight and worry behind the words. 

“I don't care what they thought of me. I only cared about what the palace residents thought. They were my family, in a sense.” 

“Even Sukuna?” Megumi asked. 

“That's such a stupid question, oh my god. Boys are so stupid,” Nobara said with a deadpan.

You smiled, though, and kindly still answered. 

“Especially Sukuna.” 

“Hey, hey! Sorry for the wait!” Gojo called across the field as he made a show of sauntering on over before teleporting in the blink of an eye. “So? Are we all–oooh, are we gossiping?”

“What, no?!”

“No.”

“No.” 

Gojo pouted. “My students always leave me out. Thankfully, my sweet, pious, precious (Name) is nice to me!”

“You're late, Satoru,” you sighed as you stood, tying back your chopped hair into the tiniest of ponytails. “What is the reason?”

Gojo whined and trotted up to you, rubbing and petting your ears to bring you back to his side of the issue.

“It's not my fault! All the higher-ups are sooo annoying and yap sooo much!” He shuffled behind you and played with your three lush tails much like a toddler would. “Who's a good boy? Who's a good boy that's not gonna get mad at the Gojo Satoru?” 

You sighed and flicked your ear, thwacking him in the forehead with it. “Let's not waste any more time, cretin.

“What're we even doing, Sensei?” Yuuji asked, rubbing the back of his head after raising his hand like he was in class. “You didn't really tell us anythin’.” 

“Yeah, I thought we were just watching the fox until he had to go back in his cage,” Nobara said, arms crossed and expression sour. “Seems kinda stupid. He's not even a threat.” But Yuuji knew there was little truth to that statement.

“I'm guessing the meeting was about relocating (Name).” Megumi looked at Gojo. “So what's the plan?” 

–

The five of you walked endlessly through the vast forest surrounding the college. Your gaze traveled up sky-scraping trees, admiring the ancient song of life only you could hear through the soil and air. Wind danced across the verdant canopy above, scattering beams of molten sunlight across the forest floor and dappling the shoulders of the sorcerers before you with golden kisses–a sight you so sorely missed from your tenure at the palace. 

The land was not crying here. You'd heard the distant sound from the concrete jungle resting far below the rise of the college, and it shrouded you with jaded confusion and contempt for what had been done to the world in your stead; if you'd been smarter, wiser to the plans of one, could you have prevented this? Or were humans simply inevitable with their evolution? Perhaps it was up to the Earth to find the yang after the yin.

“Okay, this is it!” Gojo called, snapping you from your rampant thoughts. 

You looked to where he gestured, and found a simple building. It was reminiscent of the college in its design–modern, but clearly inspired by traditional architecture–and it looked fairly new. A bell attached to a rope stood at the forefront, as did a well for mortals to throw their offerings before ringing the aforementioned chime. Beyond that, the shrine lacked character and decoration. It was a clean slate. 

You blinked owlishly, and tilted your head. “This is…?”

“A shrine! For our new on-campus god! How fun is that, huh?” Gojo smiled, proud for a reason you couldn't decipher. “You get to make it home!” 

The younger three all deadpanned, looking between each other, trying to parse if their teacher was delusional or just being a menace to society and doing this behind the council’s back. Honestly, it was up in the air. 

“I–is that even–” Megumi tried, but gave up and rubbed his face instead. 

“So…(Name)’s gonna be, like, our resident god, or something?” Yuuji wondered, feeling his heart pitter patter just a little faster. 

“Haha! Sure, if you want to think of it that way.” Gojo smiled and looked toward the blank canvas of a shrine. “In exchange for divine favour, we grant sanctuary. Home. A place to call your own.” 

You didn't say much, but your tails swished and flowed as you stared at the humble abode–your humble abode–and inhaled shakily. 

“I suppose this will do,” you conceded, still too unwilling to give Gojo the satisfaction of knowing he'd touched your heart. “It's a bit stingy, however.”

“STINGY?” 

“Indeed. Now, begone–I have work to do.” 

– 

Sukuna reached for you when he dreamed. He didn't need to sleep, he had no use for it as he was now, but he convinced himself into the realm of the unconscious regardless, searching for the doorway leading to your mind. 

And he tried night after night, day after day, searching and sitting outside the palace of your inner realm once he found the entrance. The door was the same as the one leading to your chambers in your shared home; a simple, sliding door of wood and paper. Beautiful. Comforting. 

He knew the door wouldn't open for him, not yet; he deduced what may have happened, and what that would have meant for you all and himself as a result. He'd have to be patient. Wait for you to let him in to confront him, or seek his comfort. 

But he didn't expect the door to open so suddenly behind him, sending him rolling onto his back and staring upside down at the most magnificent sight he'd ever beheld–a kyuubi, sitting poised across the room, dressed in a haori several sizes too big, waiting with his back turned as candlelight flickered and lulled the room into a lazy, sleepy haze.

Sukuna righted himself and stood, spirit flailing and tearing itself apart in his uncontrollable want for you, for a desire to return back to the simplicity of this time. But he couldn't go back. Maybe he could recreate it. 

“Fox,” Sukuna murmured, excitement igniting the small, human body he'd been forced to mold his soul into. It felt so much worse in this form, his want being so much more fucking unbearable and burning a hole in his damn chest and skull. 

You shifted, head turning the slightest toward him yet refusing to give way entirely. But, then you stood, and Sukuna suddenly understood how you felt in the presence of his overwhelming power. 

You stood tall. Proud. Powerful. Your ears pointed towards the heavens while your tails fanned against the gates of hell when you turned to face that lover of the past, the one you held so dear for decades. 

Sukuna almost felt weak in the knees (or was that somehow Yuuji interrupting his delusions?) when bright red markings caught the light, shimmering in divine sparks of orange and teal in the firelight–and your eyes. Your eyes. They burned with higher purpose. With unreadable certainty and alien understanding. You made Sukuna's gut coil with need. 

“My Sukuna,” you whispered to the room. You took a step forward, and Sukuna eagerly met you the rest of the way. “You look so…small.” 

He looked up at you–yes, up--and admired your face and godly stature and just how fucking tall and unearthly and powerful you were looming over him. 

“Stuck looking like this fucking runt while I'm in his body,” Sukuna explained bitterly. He reached a hand up while he spoke, and you graciously leaned down to let his skin touch yours. 

An ache curled under Sukuna's skin, flushing his complexion with heat and suffocating him in those unbearable sorcerer uniform garbs. His pants strained too tight, his jacket and hoodie made his core swelter and his mind grow fuzzy. It was torture. 

“He looks so much like you,” you drawled, holding Sukuna's face in kind. You hummed with sympathy when he moaned and leaned into your touch, only abandoning his own rediscovery of your features to hold your palms against him, to indulge in everything so wholly you. 

“Forgot what I look like, huh,” Sukuna huffed. “This brat looks like a beaten monkey.” 

“So did you.”

“Hey.” 

“But I adored you anyway, did I not?” 

Sukuna scanned over your face slowly, methodically, wondering. 

“Adore. You mean ‘adore’.” 

“Perhaps.” You smoothed a thumb over his cheekbone. “It's been some time.” 

“You chose me. You belong to me.” Sukuna's lip curled as he growled and forced your hands into his skin firmer as though to leave scars. “Mine. Only mine.” 

Your lips quirked upwards and Sukuna pulled you down to kiss you. His voice reverberated between your linked bodies as your tongue licked into his mouth far enough to nearly make him choke. You kindly pulled him flush against you, wrenching more pleased, needy noises out of him with no effort at all. 

“You're as starved as Yuuji,” you whispered as his hands fumbled with your ornate clothes, yanking and pulling at them with reckless abandon. 

“Shut up.” His grumbling lessened just a bit when you eased your robes open, exposing your perfect skin to him once again. 

“I believe it'd displease you if I stopped talking, no?” You tore the clothing off the other's body as he pulled you down to the floor with him, suddenly so eager to submit. 

Sukuna scoffed. “I–just touch me, fox.” 

It was your turn to purr and keen, basking in the soft tremble of anticipation the all-powerful choked on as he spread himself bare beneath you, your garbs cascading all around him like a waterfall–only you would get to see him, chest heaving, eyes swirling with lust and need, hidden behind a curtain of embroidered flames.

“Poor thing.” You dug your nails into his hips and dragged him toward you, prodding your aching length against his unprepared heat. “You've been so long without touch. Without love. Do you still think it's meaningless?” 

The curse snarled, and you caught him by the throat, pinning him in place and jamming your other hand's fingers down his throat before he could bark back at you. And just that simple torture had the king's hips twitching and bucking, slowly falling into time with the rhythm of your digits slipping in and out of his bratty mouth. 

“F-fuck you,” he gasped once his mouth fell empty. 

You chuckled smoothly. “It's simply food for thought.” You pressed two fingers into him and worked inside with ease despite the crushing heat clamping down around you. You didn't know if his sweet, little body wanted you to stay put or fill him faster. 

“Fuckin'--annoying, shithead, bratty fox–” he cut off with a ragged moan as you pressed against his prostate and rubbed against it slowly, firmly, deliciously. His eyes fell shut and his brows twitched up, a vivid look of desperation and concentration making him look far too vulnerable and breedable for his own good. 

“It's strange,” you hummed, working him a little faster and jamming your fingers against his sweet spot over and over. “I never thought you'd willingly submit.” 

“I need it,” Sukuna growled, fisting his hand around his weeping length and stroking to the beat of your fingers. His hips bucked forward and back, unsure of what searing pleasure to lean into more; luckily for him, you were keen to up the ante. 

Your fingers slipped out and Sukuna snarled, crimson eyes snapping open to brand you with frustration. You felt the whip of desperate commands about to crack off Sukuna's tongue, so you wasted no time filling him back up, stuffing him beyond his limits. 

The man almost gasped, though it could have just been the force of your cock punching the air out of his lungs. You pulled him against you, seating him to the base with a little effort and brute force. You knew he liked the pain. Pleasure was closely acquainted with it, after all. 

“This is what you wanted,” you murmured as you rocked into him. 

The curse didn't know if you beckoned an answer from him, or simply stated the facts. So, he didn't answer you. He instead gripped onto your shoulders to keep himself steady while you effortlessly drilled into his core with each and every thoughtful roll of your hips. 

And it felt good. An uncomfortable, searing stretch accompanied the deep plunges filling him beat after beat. His body tightened and clamped down around you, forcing your length to rub against the weakest, most sensitive spots inside of him–places no one would ever dream of hitting inside the unruly king. None besides you, of course. You were different. Better than the rest. Fit to fuck and fill him if Sukuna so desired it. 

“(Name),” he groaned when you changed up the angle, aiming to rub up against the ceiling of his insides with every thrust. You tortured his weak spot, and made a casual show of forcing his stomach to bulge and distend whenever you bottomed out entirely, and Sukuna reveled in it. He wanted to be yours. Just yours. 

“You're so sweet when you submit,” you cooed, leaning down and nuzzling against his neck as you fucked into him harder and faster. “You should have done so sooner.”

Sukuna should have clapped Back, but he couldn't; he was too busy trying to angle himself to somehow get you deeper. He was too busy trying to pull you closer, to graft his thick thighs to your scar-riddled sides like a branch on a tree. He couldn't spare a single braincell on your arrogant Teasing when all he could think was, fuck me, fuck me, fuck me–

“Now he's lost his voice,” you sighed. “Such a pity.” Your hips hit particularly hard to punctuate, and Sukuna grunted. 

“Again,” he choked out. “Fuck me like that.” 

You branded a smile into his skin with a hum. “Are you sure? I won't stop if it's too much.” 

Sukuna opened his bleary eyes and spied your nine tails fanned out, cloaking the ceiling from sight. It felt like staring death in the face. Maybe he'd been in its clutches this entire time. Maybe he wanted–needed–you to be the end of him.

Your hand found his throat again, and Sukuna nodded as best he could, too overwhelmed and overstimulated to get words out of his open mouth–but grunts and groans had no issue bursting through as you left mercy by the wayside and destroyed him as thoroughly as he requested. You were, after all, a selfless god.

Sukuna's eyes rolled back as his head tilted in kind, mouth left agape as you burned him alive; every push of your body into his lit new fires, and every second you stayed connected, more of his soul exhausted itself before rising from ashes once again. The tightness coiling in his stomach grew unbearable and insatiable, hungering for more and more and more until–

“There's no shame in coming undone,” you cooed, your lips and fangs replacing the hand in his throat and peppering apologetic kisses. “Unravel for me, my love.” 

My love. My love. My love.

“Fuck,” Sukuna gasped. He clung to you, and you raised your head to kiss him, swallowing his strained noises to keep them a secret from the outside world and himself. 

He grabbed at your shoulders and arms as his head tilted back and a hoarse cry left him–just as his body clamped down and sent him over the edge, he realized pushing in and out had become more taxing. Perhaps because of his cumming, or perhaps because of the ungodly thing swelling at your base and ripping him open. 

You worked him through his high, never thinking of pulling away from him when he needed you most. Because this was bound to end. He was bound to wake up and feel cold where your hands now touched. He was stuck in the body of another with no hope of reaching you unless he somehow, some way turned the tables on all those weak sorcerers and broke free. 

But he would. He'd claim his vessel and walk amongst the new world, autonomous and untouchable. It was only a matter of time. 

–

Though Sukuna was selfish in chasing his own pleasure, he soon found immense satisfaction in yours.

The number of times he'd trap you against a wall and finger you until your legs gave out and your voice ran hoarse was too great to count. He couldn't help himself; that bewildered, wide-eyed look you gave him every time you were let go to fix your robes and catch your voice screamed, what was that for? And boosted Sukuna’s ego. He reveled in the glory of being the only one to do this to you, to being the one who forced you to lose composure. 

In his chamber, he indulged further. He'd work thick fingers deep inside of you while his other hands roamed and touched, stroking, pinching and rubbing wherever he deemed needed attention. And you were putty in his hands, absolutely melting into everything he did to you, even if accompanied by a shock of pain. 

Because you were a creature who only knew sex for the sake of bearing children. Beyond that clan using you in an attempt to create half-breed sorcerers, your primal nature influenced you to only seek out a mate for the purpose of bearing children, and not necessarily for pleasure. 

But Sukuna was the opposite. He never thought of siring children. He only thought of pleasure of another's body and the thrill of total domination over them, never the idea he'd suffer the consequences of an heir; he had those women drink a special tea to prevent that for a reason, especially when a handful had come to him, offering their bodies in return for fame and perceived power. 

With you, he could entertain the idea, however. 

Yes, the mere idea of watching you walk around the gardens, properly swollen with his children, with physical proof of his ownership and coupling with you, sparked something akin to greed in his chest. Though it was a little warmer than just that, admittedly.

–

Yuuji liked you. There was no escaping it, no denying it–he liked being around you. He liked your smile. Your tails. Your ears. The way you scared the shit out of him the first time you properly met. You were just…weird. Interesting. Kind of like Yuuji himself. 

But you were kind, too. The times he wandered out to meet you at your shrine to “check up on things,” or because he was bored, he always found you tending to your gardens, talking to the passerby wildlife, dozing at the entrance, and his heart would do something funny in his chest. 

Then his mind would rot until all he could see was you sprawled beneath Sukuna, singing the king’s praises while he fucked you into the tatami and bred you. 

It wouldn't stop there. Sukuna would taunt him, poisoning him with sinful thoughts and diabolic urges:

You think that fox'll give you the time of day? You, a petulant runt with not a shred of experience beyond your hand? Hah. 

Consider it a blessing--you'd probably cum too fast to enjoy him properly. You'd embarrass yourself to death.

I know you think about him when your hand's around your cock. You wish he'd warm it, no? Wish you got to watch his ass take you in? 

Go on, why don't you just try? Fulfill your fantasies! Maybe he'll act the part of a pious, pitying god and throw you a bone. 

Yuuji, for as airheaded as he could be, knew Sukuna wanted to indulge in you through his vessel. Or, he truly believed Yuuji wouldn't be able to hook up with you and live to remember it. Maybe he was right. 

But the young man thought you had a soft spot for him; he wasn't great at reading people by any means, but he thought you always gravitated to him before the others. You always held more warmth in your eyes when they fell upon him, and your preening touch constantly found him, your hands always smoothing out the creases of his uniform while deft fingers fixed his hair and pleated his hood into more attractive folds. 

Maybe your touchy-ness toward him was a culmination of your need to parent something. Yuuji didn't fully understand it, but Gojo mentioned something about you wanting children, but you couldn't have them. Not anymore. And so those urges manifested in other ways. 

But the young sorcerer wasn't so sure anymore.

“My Yuuji,” you cooed when he came to visit. “You're back again so soon. Is everything alright?”

Yuuji smiled and braced for impact, bowing his head the slightest bit to let you bonk yours against his in greeting. It really reminded him of the way cats would welcome each other. Thankfully, you didn't seem too eager to mark him with a dose of spittle, though. 

“Yeah, everything's cool. Just–dunno. Wanted to come see what you were doing, I guess.” The sorcerer shrugged and pocketed his hands after you'd finished lovingly headbutting him.

“Mmh. Well, I certainly don't mind the company.” You smoothed back his hair and fixed the wild flare of one of his eyebrows before stepping away and meandering back towards your shrine. “It feels like something's going to happen soon.”

Yuuji's stomach flipped. “Yeah? You think so?” He followed you, watching the hypnotic swaying of your tails and hips and ass–wait, wait, wait, no, no, no–

What? Am I wrong? Sukuna's voice purred. Looks downright breedable, doesn't he? He said it more like a want than a taunt, this time, like if he were in Yuuji's shoes, he'd jump on you and pick up where you left off. 

Shut up, shut up, shut up, Yuuji chanted, trying to calm down. Don't ruin this!

Ruin what? Your sad attempt at courtship, brat? 

Yuuji said nothing. Sukuna howled with laughter. 

“Natural disasters cannot always be predicted,” you murmured, bringing Yuuji back to the present. “And they can never be stopped.”

The younger frowned and rubbed the back of his neck as he followed you inside. “Eh, I mean…we can stop a lot with sorcery, can't we?”

“And if that disaster is born of sorcery? What then?” You snapped your fingers, and every candle in the room ignited with amber flame.

“Uh…I mean…” He sighed and rubbed his face. “I still think we can stop it. We'll figure out a way!”

You sure about that, brat? 

You laughed, soft and kind, bringing a smile to Yuuji instead of a ticked off frown. You had a way of settling his nerves and relieving the tension from tightly wound muscles. Is this the effect you had on Sukuna? Is that why he cherished you so much? 

“I admire your optimism, Yuuji. Perhaps I should aspire to be like you,” you said. 

Yuuji's face flushed. “E-eh? Wh–no! You're awesome the way you are! And, uh, you're–y’know. You're good!” Smooth. Eloquent. Exceptional.

You hummed and wandered further into the back rooms, allowing Yuuji to follow you to your chambers to relax. “Well, I'll trust your opinion, then.” 

“Okay. Yeah. Cool.” The sorcerer cleared his throat and messed with his hood as he followed your lead, admiring the tidy, comfy space you welcomed him into. Pillows and blankets were plentiful and all bunched together on a futon, so much like the nests Yuuji often saw in his dreams. It felt a bit…intrusive to see it in person. 

“Hey, uh,” Yuuji started, “I–can I ask something?” 

You seated yourself down across the small, simple kotatsu, and gestured for the younger to join you. “Of course.”

The sorcerer sat down across from you. “You and Sukuna. Were you guys–did you ever…y'know.” 

You tilted your head, curious. “Go on.”

“Were you, like, in love? Or something?” Yuuji's face burned red at the words. Talking about love was so damn awkward for some reason, especially when it had to do with Sukuna and the fox Yuuji himself pined for.

“Ah.” You tilted your head the opposite direction, and hummed. “I was in love, yes.”

Yuuji's chest ached. “Even now?” 

“Eternally.” 

“Do you want him back?” 

You didn't answer right away, and the festering pain spread from his chest to the tips of his fingers; of course you wanted him back. Of course you wanted your ancient, all-powerful lover back. Why would you ever accept Yuuji in his place? A weak, mortal being?

Before Yuuji could retract the question, you'd shuffled around to his side of the table and held one of his hands in both of yours. The younger couldn't bear to look at your face, and so kept his eyes trained on your elegant fingers smoothing over his rough, scarred knuckles. 

“I would not trade a soul that walks amongst the living for a soul that has already lived its life,” you said. “Sukuna has lived. And he has died. He may rise once more, but I do not seek to aid it; he chose to die in hopes of living forever. He must accept what his decision brings, as must I.” 

The storm inside of the sorcerer calmed the slightest bit. Sails no longer whipped and frayed; they caught wind and led his heart back to placid waters, though the depths of the oceans could always threaten future treachery. For now, however, Yuuji found safety.

“Man, you really are like Yoda,” He laughed, filling the room with renewed brightness.

You blinked owlishly. “Yoda? What that is, I do not know.” 

Yuuji laughed harder and clasped his hands around yours. “Nah, don't worry about it. It's a good thing, though. From one of the movies Gojo-sensei made me watch.”

“I would strongly advise against taking lessons from that man, Yuuji.” Your brow creased as your hands clutched his in a death grip. “He’s not normal.”

Yuuji grinned, then, and held your hands just as tightly. “Yeah, he's weird. But he's smart, too! One of the strongest guys alive, y'know?” 

“Even the strongest can make mistakes,” you said. “Even the strongest can lose, Yuuji. Always be careful, even if victory is assured.” Your careful touch graced the curve of his cheek. “I would hate for your visits to stop.”

The sorcerer's heart beat in double-time. 

“Yeah,” he said. “Me too.”

–

The leaves crinkled and rustled, flashing shades of amber and ruby in the dwindling daylight. Gone was the warmth of Summer's smile; now, the cold, fierce nip of Autumn cut through the air, whispering secrets about the first frost and what it would do to devastate the green around you.

But you were a god. A creature of fertility and good luck. And so, the grass did not die, and the forest did not wither under the coming winter's threats. 

It seemed your gifts could not reach into the depths of your soul, however. Perhaps you weren't to indulge in the privilege of what you brought the world--the mortal things around you could make use of a blessing from the divine, but could the divine themselves? Could you bring yourself a remedy to your loneliness the way you brought life unto the ground beneath your feet? 

You didn't know.

–

The end of October came, and the world trembled with the force of thousands of lives ending in misery and terror. You beheld it from your home, the sight of the clouds turning orange and red as hellfire devoured all. 

Bless me ‘n wish me luck! Gojo had said last time he swung by. Definitely don't need it, but you're my favourite cheerleader, y'know?

That was not too long ago, perhaps a day prior. Maybe it'd only been twelve hours ago since you last saw him. Three hours ago since you last felt his celestial presence upon the earth. 

“I would hate for your visits to stop,” you murmured, and your chest froze with the cold. 

–

Winter brought with it snow and darkness. Kuraokami had his ways of slipping his icy presence through the slivered cracks of wood grain no matter the time or place; the great dragon would be heard and seen if it was his final act upon the earth. 

Not even you could keep him out, the lesser deity you were. But you didn't mind the company; the cold breaths against your skin woke you from nightmares and empty blankness when you dozed and dazed, feeling the days slip by and blur together into one grey smear of solitary existence. 

Something had happened. Ever since the sky lit ablaze in a familiar scene of ungodly strength, you felt a shift in the state of existence. In your relevance in the grand scheme of the college and history. 

Your sorcerers lost their way to you, you realized. The cushions around the kotatsu stayed fluffed and untouched save for one. Five of the six clay tea cups gathered dust as they waited, hopeful, like you. 

–

You woke to the feeling of hollowness. It jostled you to consciousness, in fact; those two little unborn lives swirled and stirred, clawing at your stomach before vanishing in an instant. 

Maybe they'd grown too sick and weary of the loneliness and snow, too.

–

Sukuna had walked down this path too many times. And too many times he'd been unable to move, unable to claw his way out of the prison of his vessel to get back to you–but things were different now. 

He held a bundle of blankets close as he wandered toward a speck of verdant green amidst the snowy whiteness blanketing the forest, and remembered a distant past he yearned to return to:

Sukuna was a restless creature. He often distracted himself with challenges, duels, leafing through stolen knowledge of other clans–but, on rare occasions, none of that would appeal to his tumultuous mind. 

You always appealed to him, however. You, with your lavish tails, your exquisite appearance, your superior poise and prose, you always enthralled him, made him wonder and stare. 

Maybe it was because you were always doing something. If you weren't tending to his women, you were meandering around the palace, admiring trophies earned in whatever form they came in: art, weapons, bones. If you weren't doing that, you might be in the garden instead, fine-tuning the patterns drawn in the zen garden yourself and feeding the massive koi. If not that, then you might be asking Uraume to teach you to cook, or you could be fiddling with your loom or–well, it could be anything. 

Sometimes, you’d choose to  lay with Sukuna and keep him warm and content throughout the dreary haze of winter. 

You didn't hate winter yourself, no, but Sukuna most definitely did. The snow and ice were a pain in the ass, and they always threw the garden into a messy disarray of dead foliage and slushy mud that'd have to be tended to come springtime. And it was cold as hell outside. Who asked for that? No one. 

“My love,” you cooed as you stepped to his side while he stared out the window. “Glaring won't make the seasons change.” 

Sukuna scoffed. “That a challenge?”

“Not at all.” You reached up and smoothed his hair back, stopping pesky, rebellious strands from tickling his forehead. “I'd hate to see what you'd do in an attempt to play god.”

“I'm already a god,” he countered as he snatched your hand from his hair and looked down at you.

“Not a god of the seasons, I'm afraid.” You held his hand and pulled it down to kiss his knuckles. “But a god amidst men, nonetheless.” 

Your beast hummed deep in his chest. You had a funny way of setting his roiling soul at ease with your effortless praise and acknowledgement. 

“Knew there was a reason I kept you around,” the man purred, leaning down to touch his forehead to yours. 

You leaned up into the soft gesture like a cat too eager to be pet. “You'd be quite bored without me.” 

“No kidding. I'd go fucking mental if I didn't have you to entertain me.” His voice was a murmur, then, and softened even more when your warm hands cupped his cheeks like he was a priceless, fragile artifact: precious, special, breakable.

“Yes, yes, I go insane in your stead, loved one.” You touched your nose to his, then, before placing the softest of kisses upon his lips. 

A light, sighed grumble slipped past Sukuna's lips when your skin left his. It was his turn to nudge his nose against yours, earning himself a petal-like smile from his prized possession, before he blessed you in return, trying to match the kindness you'd met him with. 

You held the front of his garbs as you leaned up into him, and his hands all found their places on your smaller frame in return, pulling you closer, keeping you against him. He hardly wanted anything like this in the past before you came along and tore his mind and soul to pieces before hunkering down in the hollow of his ribs and setting up shop. It was aggravating. Captivating. 

“Come,” you softly beckoned, slipping away from his desperate hold and leading him back to the bundle of blankets and linens he’d learned to accept as a bed.

As always, he had no choice but to follow, abandoning his mad-dogging of the outside world to join you and the infinite warmth his personal Amaterasu brought him. 

“You’re lazy as hell in the winter,” Sukuna noted as he sat himself down in the middle of your nest and let you get to work adjusting blankets and such around the both of you for optimal comfort. 

“You're free to traipse off into the snow if you so wish.” You settled yourself by Sukuna's side and tucked under his heavy arms. “I will remain here. Warm. Dry. At peace.” 

Sukuna rolled his eyes and pulled you close to his side, squeezing a chirped purr from your chest. “Think I'll pass on the snow.” 

You smiled to yourself, feeling warm and content with the settling silence engulfing you as the snow engulfed the world. Winter was the only season where he'd stay by your side, so you often indulged in it, bothering him and sticking to him like a needy pet until spring inevitably rolled around to ruin your happy spell. Because Sukuna was more wild and feral than you. He had to go wander, to go fight. Otherwise, he'd have no purpose. 

Unbeknownst to you, he may have another purpose in mind. 

His hand breached your clothes and reached down, stopping just above your navel to your surprise. There, he drew gentle, thoughtful circles against your skin. You felt pulses of cursed energy flicker and feel, searching for something neither of you yet knew of. 

“What is it you're looking for?” You murmured, knowing full well what he sought.

Sukuna inhaled deeply and exhaled just as heavy. “How long does it take to get one god knocked up, huh?” He tutted and looked down at you, holding an annoyed look while you met him with doey, lovey eyes as you leaned into him more. 

“I'm sure you'll be the man who finds out.”

Sukuna grinned to himself and adjusted the lump of blankets he held. Arrogant pride blossomed in his chest alongside his bolstered ego; if he could do this as a mere man, what could he do as a curse? 

The king sighed as he breached the warmth of the halo surrounding your humble, comfy abode. He was getting sick of the shit weather in the games, all the cold and emptiness. Being near you was what he needed. 

“Oi, don't make a fuss,” Sukuna grumbled lowly to the whining duo he adjusted in his arms. “You wanna get inside or not?” 

But before he could make use of his newly freed arm, the doors slid open before him. 

And you stood there. Tired. Disheveled. Eyes big and hopeful, yet rimmed with disbelief and shock as you stared at your man and the package he brought to your doorstep. 

Sukuna would be lying if he said he didn't melt, too. Being here, standing firm and whole and so very real and untethered in the spot other sorcerers stood in their attempt to spirit you away from him–it was the reason for his existence. 

And so was your arms wrapping around him and holding him close. 

“Ho? So you did miss me, huh?” He hummed, looping an arm around you and pressing you closer to him. “Sure didn't act like it earlier.”

“I didn't wish to believe in something that felt untrue,” you murmured into his shoulder. “Even now, you're not…entirely yourself.” 

Sorrow stained the undertones of your voice. Whether it was for the fate of Fushiguro Megumi, or for the state of your lover, Sukuna did not know. 

But he was here. He was tangible. He was in control. Finally. 

“At least I'm here, yeah?” He said. And you nodded. 

You led him inside and into the room filled with comfort and warmth. Works of embroidery lined the once-unremarkable tapestries draping down from the ceilings and walls, and the wooden pillars now boasted intricate carvings in various states of completion. Seemed like you'd gotten quite bored in your wait. 

Sukuna sat with you, being the man to finally make use of the fluffed cushions around the kotatsu as he dragged it to your side to stay close. You needed it. He thirsted for it.

The bundle whined and cooed as soon as Sukuna’s ass hit the cushion, and he sighed. “Think you can take care of this, fox?” He teased, but felt a rush of something overtake him when he caught you with your ears perked, tails swishing, back straight as you stared down at the bundle. 

He eased them into your arms and, with shaking hands, you pulled back the wooly linen to find two perfect little treasures staring up at you with big, red-lined eyes. One held the colour of yours, while the other took responsibility for sporting Sukuna's hues, but both boys’ eyes glimmered with divine flecks of gold and amber. Their hair blushed with the colour of sakura petals, and two, itty bitty tufts of soft onyx ears dotted both of their heads like chocolate chips in strawberry ice cream. 

Two perfect kits. Your perfect kits. 

“You seriously wanted these things?” Sukuna asked, teasing and rude, but softer and warmer than the fire burning in your chest. “Gotta say, they're pretty fucking annoying.”

You swathed your tails around them and purred with the ferocity of an avalanche as you leaned into your partner and doted on the teeny tiny babies he'd somehow brought back to the land of the living. A part of you felt guilty for what this could mean. The rest of you screamed, I don't care. 

“Look at them,” You whispered, tracing the roundness of their cheeks with a gentle touch. “They're beautiful.” 

“Well, lookit who their parents are.” Sukuna chuckled and held you against his side, which you eagerly melted into. “Kenjaku had a plan for them too, turns out. Who woulda thought?”

“You never told me,” you said. “Why did you not tell me?” 

“You would've been pissed,” Sukuna said, voice matter of fact. “Better to just do it and reap the benefits later.”

You looked up at him, and found his gaze locked onto you. “That's quite selfish.”

“I'm a king. I can do whatever I want. I can have whatever I want,” He reminded you. “As soon as I take care of a few pathetic, loose ends, everything'll be in place. Right where it all needs to be. And life goes back to normal." 

Your heart did something funny when you read between the lines. “Must you–”

“Don't question me.” Sukuna grabbed your chin and forced you to look down at your snoozing babes. “You’ll lose this. All of this. You'll be left with nothing all over again if I don’t finish this off. That what you want, fox?” 

“You know the answer,” you murmured, too content to let him guide you and sway your reason. He tugged your chin toward him, forcing you to look his way again.

“Tell me anyway.” Tell me what I want to hear.

How could you refuse? 

“No matter the case," you murmured, soft as forgotten winter snow, "you will always have my favour, Ryoumen Sukuna.”

–

Forever to be loved, herein lays a God's young,

Imprisoned by none, held dearly by the Disgraced One. 

[lesbomaticlove]

ive talked about it before but i wanna talk about it again and that's

body types in drawing especially in terms of one piece characters

and i know its because official art presents them all the same but it just does not feel right to me, y'know? especially when i look at fanart and it looks like they just drew the same body multiple times with different faces (talent in that yes but god change it up a bit PLEASE)

like with my style i like to draw semi-realistic cartoon type beat, and that means im thinking about an abstract of shape language in the way that i present the characters. i consider their fighting styles and workouts when i think about what their body type would be, not just for op ive done this with mha and jjk characters too because god dammit gege, maki deserves bulkier muscles for her efforts

so here it is. my analysis of more semi-realistic designs for these characters. all my opinion and not meant to be a call out to anyone.

also, not including the women because we all know how unrealistic they look and i dont need to explain that to you im begging just use reference.

LUFFY

rubberhose arms are ESSENTIAL in his design so when i draw him, i never put too much definition in his muscles. real definition should be reserved for gears that alter his muscles

noodly arms and stick ass legs that is his Charm thank you i dont need super definition

ZORO

on the opposite end of the spectrum, zoro.

though, i see many people draw him more bodybuilder silhouette when he should be powerlifter silhouette, youve SEEN how this man works out. stereotypical bodybuilder physique that's all muscle and no fat is EXTREMELY UNHEALTHY TO MAINTAIN and you know theres no damn way sanjis letting someone on the ship watch their weight for the sake of visuals. he should be defined and bulky, but softer edges on the abs.

USOPP

Speaking first on pre ts, what does he excel at most? long range weapons and running.

obviously he gets proper strength training during timeskip, but i really think the best representative for him is olympic sprinters

muscular, but still pretty skinny

SANJI

hear me out. ballet physique.

i see him drawn w the same physique as Zoro and it just feels so wrong. he doesnt train his upper body, so most of his definition would be in his core and legs. not to mention his flexibility tracks with that.

maybe ill come back with a figure study on these later to fully show how it translates into my drawings but. for now. tumblr wont let me add any more images to this post

[a-killer-obsession]

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 2 - To The Brig With Ye

Step 1: Get Heat on your side.

WC: 4.5k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

You were surprised to wake up at all when you came to, in what you assumed was some sort of infirmary. The room tilted back and forth slightly, so you assumed you must still be on the ship at the very least. Your eyes fluttered open, finding a face suddenly far too close to your own.

“AHH!” you and Heat both shouted at once, the blue haired man scurrying backwards.

“Heat, for fucks sake I told you not to hover in her face like that!” A feminine voice scolded. You groaned as you tried to sit up, seeing a blue haired woman, her hair wild with spikes that looked like horns, a small set of round glasses, and a black dress bearing some sort of stylized cross. House. She was using a pipette to drip some sort of dark red liquid onto your exposed wound, which looked and felt nowhere near as bad as you thought it would, considering how deep the knife had gone. Your confusion was explained away as the red droplets hit your skin and you watched the flesh begin to sew itself closed, but it only brought up more questions in its place. You'd never seen something like that in One Piece, but then again this world was vast and strange, and people did always seem to heal fast here.

“Sorry, one more minute,” House spoke to you, drawing up more crimson into the pipette and dripping it onto the wound, the last sliver of open wound mending itself closed. “Okay, all done.”

“Uh thanks, House right?” You asked her, running your hand over the healed flesh, not even feeling a scar. It was like nothing had happened at all, save for the rouge red drips of whatever she'd used that remained on your skin before she hurriedly wiped it away with a damp cloth.

“Um, yes,” she replied unsurely, looking to Heat for clarity as she removed her latex gloves and threw them in a nearby bin. She'd seen the entire exchange on the deck, nobody had told you her name, and yet you somehow knew it. House didn't have a bounty poster, as the doctor of the Kid Pirates she hardly ever left the ship, so while it was understandable that you knew who the big four were, there shouldn't have been anyway you knew her name. “I'm gonna go let the captain know she's awake,” she addressed Heat, a distinct nervous tone to her voice, before scurrying out of the room, leaving you alone with the tall man, who shifted his weight between his feet awkwardly.

“What's your name?” He asked shyly.

“[Y/n],” you smiled.

“[Y/n]...” he repeated to himself, a slight blush to his cheeks, “Did you mean what you said?”

“What bit?” You rubbed your eyes with the palm of your hand, trying to piece together what had happened between getting hit by a bus and getting stabbed. “Oh, the sex dream stuff? Absolutely, baby” you winked at him, making him blush even more.

“No!” He choked on his breath, hands waving in defence, “I meant- the isekai bit!!”

“Ohhhhhh,” you blinked slowly, “I mean it's my best explanation for what happened. I'm like ninety-nine percent sure I got hit by a bus, and now I'm here. This whole world is supposed to be fictional, if this is just a dream then I shouldn't have been able to feel pain, but I certainly fucking felt it”

“And that's why you knew House's name?” He asked, stepping a little closer to the edge of the bed.

“Oh, it didn't even occur to me that I shouldn't know it,” you hummed, taking a moment to properly observe the room you were in now. It was darkly decorated in blacks and forest greens, the occasional violet pop of colour, none of the usual sterile whites and creams you'd expect of an infirmary, with two oversized beds (likely meant for larger crewmates), one of which you were currently laying in. Each bed had a side table, a table on wheels that fit over the bed, and a small plain chair for visitors. The whole room was almost a semi circle, save for the section missing on one side where you could see a door, likely to a bathroom. The opposite corner along the flat wall held cabinets and a counter, probably filled with medical supplies, with a small desk in front of it, a chair either side likely for doctor and patient. The beds were also along the flat wall, with a door to your left and another door in the centre of the curved wall in front of you, a small, green velvet couch to its left. The anime and manga had never shown the internals of the ship, but the curved walls and round portholes along them made you wonder if you were inside the forecastle, just behind the large dinosaur skull that acted as a figurehead for the ship. Your eyes came back to Heat, who stood next to your bed, waiting expectantly for an answer. “Yeah I mean, she's not really a well known character, but I guess you could say I'm a big Kid Pirates fan, so I remember a few more obscure characters.”

“From… a manga, you said, right?”

“Yeah. You're familiar with the isekai trope?” you didn't feel like explaining that it was an anime too, you weren't even sure if this world had cartoons.

“I am,” he mused, “and I guess weirder things have happened in this world. But we're gonna need proof, and I don't know how I'm gonna convince Kid”

You thought on that for a moment, “I think I can provide proof,” you mused, “has the crew been to Sabaody yet?”

“No, we're close though,” he told you hesitantly, not sure how much information he should reveal while he not so subtly eyed your body; you'd all but forgotten you were naked. You probably should have covered yourself up but it felt like a bit of a too little, too late situation. The whole crew had probably seen your tits at this point, not that it bothered you much. It wouldn't hurt to placate him either, it would be good to know at least one person on the crew had a fondness for you when it came to convincing Kid to keep you alive. If things really went tits up here you could always try your luck with the Straw Hats, but given the timing that would be difficult, you would have to stay on Sabaody for two years before you could try and join them. Maybe Shakky would let you stay with her in the meantime. Your preference though was to stay with the Kid Pirates, your favourite One Piece crew, and usually the subject of your sexy dreams and explicit fanfiction searches.

Heavy footsteps outside caught both of your attentions, Heat taking a few steps back to stand at a more respectful distance as the infirmary door flew open. Unsurprisingly, Kid stomped in, followed by Killer, and Wire, who shut the door behind him. Kid stood at the end of your bed, looking at you discerningly, an angry scowl on his face.

“Talk,” he said plainly.

“Boss, I think I can explain,” Heat told him, “what she said about isekai, I don't think she's from this world”

“The fuck is ‘isekai’” he growled, billowing his cape up so he could sit on the couch without catching it underneath him. Killer and Wire stood at either side of him like guard dogs, unsure of your capabilities, weary given the fact you'd appeared out of nowhere in the middle of the sea without a devil fruit power to get you here. There was no way of telling what powers you had or how you might suddenly use them.

“It's a trope, in manga,” Heat tried to explain, “the protagonist is sent to another world. Usually they die and get reincarnated, or some sort of god sends them there, to a usually fantasy world. I think that's what happened here, she claims she knows us because we're fiction in her world, and that she appeared here after she died in her world. Its a classic isekai premise.”

“Bullshit, she knows us from our bounty posters,” Kid huffed, unconvinced by Heats explanation.

“She knew House's name,” Heat replied. There was a pregnant silence as Kid considered that, his eyes flicking between you and Heat.

“Okay, so she's… from another world. If I chose to believe that,” Kid grumbled, “and she knows us because what? We're a comic book or some shit? They got comic books about the great Eustass ‘Captain’ Kid over there?”

“Well… they're not really about you per say,” you replied delicately, knowing the truth would piss him off.

“Then who the fuck could they be about?” Kid puffed up his chest, “why would they write about anyone other than the future King of Pirates?”

“They're uh… about Monkey D. Luffy…” you replied quietly. “Not that you're not also a very popular character!” You quickly added.

“STRAW HAT?” Kid roared, spooking you as he suddenly stood, “fucking STRAW HAT gets a comic book? Nah, fuck that, put this lying bitch in the brig.”

“Wait! Wait!” You quickly shouted, climbing further up the bed to avoid Killer's reaching hands, “I can prove it! I can tell you what'll happen when you get to Sabaody!”

“Sabaody is weeks out,” Kid huffed, “I ain't waitin’ for your lyin’ ass to be proven wrong so you can sit around in the meantime and find an opening to kill one of us. Devil fruit or no, you were obviously sent here to stop the best competition for finding the One Piece”

“Really? You think someone sent me here naked? Slammed me against the mast, no weapons, no devil fruit, no fighting skills, to kill you?” You rolled your eyes, “I can give you other proof, I can”

“Then fucking give me your proof, mouse,” Kid growled, the bed creaking as he leaned over you, his hands either side of your body. He probably wanted to intimidate you with his large form, but really it only served to make you a little horny.

“Killer wears purple lipstick,” you hurriedly shouted, the first thing that popped into your head as you searched for information only they should know. The room went silent before Kid suddenly wrapped a hand around your throat. He squeezed it threateningly, then he threw you back with a frustrated growl, letting you go as he moved to leave the room. He gave Killer a knowing look before turning back to Heat.

“Chain her in the brig,” Kid hissed, “I don't know where she learned that but I don't fucking trust her. Put her in iron too, there must be some trick, witch or some shit”

There was a flurry of movement as you were again left alone with Heat, Killer sparing you an unreadable look before slamming the infirmary door, clearly angry. You didn't like that you had to expose him like that, even if everyone in the room likely already knew that information, but it was him or you, and you had to act in self defence. Not that it'd helped in the end though either, as Heat apologetically dragged you off the bed and clamped your arms behind your back, wrapping one large hand around both of your small wrists at once to secure you as he led you out of the room.

Eyes followed you silently as you were led across the deck, still naked as the day you were born, revealing you had in fact been in the forecastle. Heat took you directly across to the rear of the ship, opening a door and leading you through a galley. The short view you got of the galley revealed a long room, with a serving window and counter on the left that peeked through to a moderately sized industrial looking kitchen. On the right was some sort of stage at the very end of the room, short stairs on either side leading up to the platform that currently held a long table surrounded by six chairs, a small liquor bar behind it. On the main floor between you and the stage were five long tables, a bench style seat along either side. The walls were decorated in band posters, bounty posters, photos of the crew together, newspaper clippings and all manner of souvenirs pinned to the walls, covering them in what spoke of a crew that acted more like a family, with many happy memories together all memorialised along the dining hall walls.

Heat led you to a staircase at the left of the room, following you down into a hall that was noticeably colder than above, likely due to being particularly below sea level. There was a short hall that split into two longer ones, they looked as though they made a loop around a center set of rooms, the walls lined with doors, no doubt bedrooms and storage rooms. He didn't lead you down either of the long halls, instead taking you to the end of the short one where a steep staircase, practically a ladder, led even further down to the hull of the ship. Heat gave you a little shove forward and you took the hint with a sigh, at least thankful that he'd let go of your wrists now so you could climb down.

You waited patiently at the bottom of the ladder beside a closed door as Heat climbed down after you. He fiddled with a set of keys that hung from his belt, unlocking the door and opening it, beckoning you to pass through. Inside was a series of cells, four in total, with iron bars at their fronts, each with a set of bare bunk beds with thin, stained mattresses, and a metal bucket in the corner, likely in lieu of a toilet. Unexpectedly, each cell was also trimmed in what looked like some sort of ancient symbols written along the floors and walls, a dark rusty colour that made you wonder if they were written in blood. The writing looked like something straight out of a dark fantasy show, with the occasional recognizable pentagram or latin in neat cursive letters. The doors to all four cells were open, seemingly unoccupied, and Heat gestured for you to enter the second, which sat directly across from a small desk, decorated only with a plain wooden chair and simple lamp.

You stood inside the cell, shivering as the air was considerably colder now that you were well under sea level, chilled by the cold ocean around you. The walls and floors offered no warmth, plated in what appeared to be stone, seastone perhaps. The wall behind the desk was lined with hooks holding multiple sets of cuffs in different styles. Heat selected a set of iron cuffs, with only three links between each wrist, and you sighed as you willingly held your hands out for him. There was no point fighting it, and forcing Heat to subdue you would only go against your plans to bring him to your side.

“Sorry about this,” he said softly as he closed the cuffs around your wrists. His hands were so warm against yours, reminding you of your current frigid situation.

“Can I have a blanket or something?” you pleaded, giving him your best puppy dog eyes.

“I.. I don't know if I'm allowed,” Heat replied, a tint of sadness to his voice.

“Maybe we can trade?” You offered, “I.. I only have my body, but maybe I can give you something in return for a blanket?” Was whoring yourself out a good idea? Probably not, given the circumstances, but you'd freeze to death down here if you didn't at least try. Besides, its not like you didn't want to fuck Heat. At this point you didn't have high hopes for surviving this world, but if you got laid with one of your favs then maybe it'd be at least a tiny bit redeemable.

“A trade?” He raised a brow, “like what?”

“What do you want?” You asked him, using your best sultry voice, experimentally pressing a hand to his chest and running it down slowly, pleasantly surprised when he didn't shy away from you. He shivered at the touch, your skin bare against his as your hand reached the bottom of his corset.

“Fuck, okay,” he growled, looking back at the door to the brig to check he had shut it, “on your knees, for a blanket”

“Yes sir,” you purred, perhaps a little too eager for Heat's dick. You would have traded a blowjob for a corn chip, if you were being honest with yourself. You fell to your knees slowly, trailing your fingertips down his midriff till they caught on the belt of his baggy pants. Raised on your knees, you could barely reach the flesh of his abdomen with your mouth as you hooked your fingers in the metal loops on his belt and used it as leverage to lower his pants, pressing your lips to the newly exposed flesh. He made a sharp exhale as your tongue came out to run over the V that led to his cock, pulling his pants down teasingly slowly and looking up at him with sultry eyes as his hand buried in your hair. Finally his pants lowered enough to expose his cock, long and girthy even at half mast, slightly more bulbous at the end with a set of three piercings along the underside, another at the tip, and a base of blue public hair, slightly darker than the hair on his head. He shivered as the cool air touched his exposed cock, quickly overruled by a groan as you took it in your bound hands and pumped the base, promptly becoming erect from your firm, warm touch.

“You have no idea how badly I've wanted to do this,” you purred, pressing your tongue to the tip, playing with the piercing and rolling your tongue over the fat head of his dick. He groaned as you took the end in your mouth, only taking a third of him as you began to bob your head, stroking the rest with your hand as you slowly adjusted and took a little more with each movement.

“Oh fuck, that's good,” Heat groaned, his hold on your hair tightening as you slowly worked towards taking all of his impressive length into your eager mouth, drool starting to drip down your chin as you focused on not gagging, breathing through your nose to suppress your natural urges. Your eyes watered as he started to hit the back of your throat, his hips making small thrusts in time with your movements, trying his best to hold back from just grabbing your skull and face fucking you. He'd been pent up for a while now, with a long stint between islands with working women, and a distinct lack of women in the meantime who were willing to risk their safety to sleep with the tall, stitched up man. By all accounts he looked terrifying to most women, so your willingness to get on your knees was certainly a nice surprise, seemingly having no issue with the way he looked. He felt bad at first for taking advantage of you, but the way you kept eye contact and hollowed your cheeks around his cock told him you wanted this, that the blanket was just an excuse to get in his pants. Really he should be the one feeling used, but he couldn't bring himself to feel anything but euphoric with the divine way your mouth was working his cock.

You paused as your nose hit his pubes, your now idle hands coming up to play with his balls, gagging a little as you swallowed around his cock. “Ohhhh fuck,” Heat groaned, looking down at you with his dick fully burried in your hot wet mouth. “Look at you, taking it like a proper slut, you like that huh? Like having my cock down your throat?”

You pulled off his cock with a pop as your thighs rubbed together in a desperate need for friction, you wouldn't be surprised if you were dripping on the floor at this point from how wet you were. “I'd like it better in my cunt,” you replied, stroking him with both hands, hoping above all that he'd take the bait and fuck you silly.

“Yeah? And what would you want to trade for that, huh?” He growled, wondering what game you were playing to be so willing, questioning whether this really was just a trick.

“One of your blankets,” you purred, running your tongue up the underside of his cock and feeling the piercings roll against it. “I want one that smells like you”

“Why are you so obsessed with me?” Heat replied, genuinely taken aback by your answer. He'd never known a woman to want him that bad, let alone just want something that smelt like him. It was making him feel sparks of something unfamiliar, possessiveness perhaps, fondness definitely.

“Because you're sweet, and you're sexy, you're one of my favourites,” you shrugged, “are you gonna fuck me or not? The stone is hurting my knees and my cunt is fucking dripping”

“Fuck,” Heat huffed, pulling you by your hair to stand and crashing his mouth against yours, groaning as he found you more than willing to return his affections. He walked you backwards until your body was flush with the cell wall, nipping at your bottom lip before he pulled away and spun you to face the wall. You arched your back and stuck your butt out for him, your tits squished against the stone as Heat admired your round ass. He gave it a playful spank, making you whine, before he grabbed handfuls of your ass cheeks and pulled them apart to admire your soaked pussy. “Fuck, you weren't lying, you're really fucking wet”

Unable to resist a taste, he knelt behind you and buried his face in your center, motorboating your cunt, your slick coating his face. He groaned against your pussy as his tongue zeroed in on your clit, making you moan and push back against him. His hands held your ass firmly, squeezing it to keep you in place as he sucked and lapped at your clit, before standing back up, running his tongue over your entrance and asshole as he moved.

“So fucking wet for me, so sweet too,” he groaned, taking his cock in his hand and lining it up with your needy entrance, your hips wiggling as you whined pleadingly. “Hold still, fuck,” you only managed to still for a moment before he pressed in, bullying his tip inside you and stretching your underprepared cunt wide. “Ah fuck, so tight,” he grunted as he slid inside you, bringing one hand to your mouth to clamp over it and muffle your sounds as you began to scream at the stretch.

His fingers slid into your mouth and you sucked them greedily, moaning around them as he bottomed out inside you. “Good girl, fuck, good little slut,” he groaned, giving you only a moment to adjust before he was dragging back out again, leaving only his tip inside you as he slammed back in. His fingers left your mouth so he could hold your hips firmly, fucking you hard and fast with the intention of making you both cum quickly before anyone caught you in the act, his cock heavy against your g-spot and stimulating it deliciously with every hard thrust he made. Your palms were flat against the wall, holding you steady as your body took the brunt of each impact, breasts grazing on the stone wall and drool transfering to the cool surface as Heat fucked you mercilessly.

He pulled you a little away from the wall, your tits now bouncing with every thrust as they hung freely until Heat reached underneath you and grabbed them, pulling you up and holding you with your back flush to his chest, one hand groping your tits still while the other wrapped around your throat, slowly travelling upwards till his fingers were buried in your mouth again, muffling your moans against the wet slapping of his body against yours. His teeth grazed your neck, wishing he could sink his fangs into you as they grew in his mouth, canines extending unbeknownst to you and running over your skin, knowing if he made a mark he would be caught. He was having trouble keeping in control of himself as you sucked on his fingers and your pussy fluttered around his cock, gummy walls clamping down around him as your eyes rolled back and you came on his cock without warning. A creamy ring formed around his base as he kept fucking you hard, chasing his own high now and trying to figure out where would be appropriate to cum.

“Get on your knees again,” he ordered, pulling his fingers from your mouth and withdrawing his throbbing cock from your cunt. You dropped to your knees willingly, opening your mouth invitingly for him with your tongue stuck out. He considered just jerking himself off over your face, painting your pretty fucked out expression with his cum, but worried about your inability to clean yourself off down here, so instead he shoved his cock down your throat, holding your hair with both hands as he began to use you rougher than he intended. You moaned around him at the surprising treatment, eyes streaming with unintentional tears as his cock gagged you with every hard thrust, until he finally stilled with his shaft balls deep in your mouth and you felt the hot cum pouring down your throat, his hands pulling your hair while he grunted. You shivered at the feeling, almost cumming again from it, playing with your oversensitive clit as he unloaded in your mouth. He pulled away slowly, the last drops of cum spilling against your tongue as you licked the tip. He slapped your cheek with his softening cock, giving you an appreciative grin as he slid his finger into your still open mouth and played with your tongue.

“I hope Kid decides not to kill you,” he mused as he helped you to your feet, pinning you against the wall again, his hand running up your thigh and hip till it came to rest at your waist. “Would be a real shame to waste a good set of holes like that”

“Tell him to come try me himself, maybe that'll convince him,” you suggested, “unless you wanna keep me all to yourself”

“Mm, tempting,” he mused, running a thumb over your bottom lip, “I don't mind sharing though, besides, I doubt I could keep you to myself even if I wanted to if one of the others decided they wanted a turn. Maybe we'll make you our ship whore”

“I'm not opposed to that,” you purred. Heat made a huff and started stepping away.

“Fuck, you really are a Kid Pirate fan huh?” He laughed, “I'll get you your blanket, but be a good girl and behave yourself until I can convince Kid to let you go”

“I'll be on my best, naughtiest behaviour,” you winked, shivering a little now that you didn't have his warm body to keep you heated. He frowned as he watched you shiver, realising how much you really did need the blanket.

“I'll find you some clothes too,” he said softly before turning to leave, disappearing before you even had a chance to respond.

[Next Chapter]

Like my stuff? Consider buying me a ko-fi

Taglist: @chershire23 @tremendoushorsepatrolgoth @nocturnalrorobin @eyes-ofhell @hellcatsworld @miyomoko-sora @loserbee14 @tzimiscequeen-blog @lansy-4

[transmascaraa]

hi! i would like to request baizhu and tighnari (and anyone else you’d like) hc about reader having eating habits that i guess would be considered unhealthy (not in ed sense, like it just kind of happens like just not being hungry for a long time), if you don’t then it’s okay, you can ignore this!

multiple characters headcannons!

unhealthy eating habits.

characters: tighnari, baizhu, kaveh x gn!reader

author's note: was about to do just those 2 but kaveh popped up in my head so take it as a bonus lmfao i hope you enjoyy (i'm doing something as reader sometimes literally eats like crazy while other times they don't eat at all so yeah)

✿ Tighnari

-he's very understanding

-he will literally do his best to help you but at the same time he would understand sometimes that you can't really do as he tells you

-at times when you eat a bit too much for your own good, he reminds you in pretty much a loving way and tries to distract you from the food

-while at the times when you don't eat for a pretty long time, he gets very worried and tries to motivate you to eat something.

-either way, you'll end up getting scolded by him if you don't listen

-"it's for your own good" he promises.

-it's true tho

-he doesn't want you to get an actual ed or something ofc he js cares about you

-will try every single type of medication to help you once again

-very caring, very understanding, will definitely scold you (lovingly)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✷ Baizhu

-he's so underrated imo wish me luck on writing him in character and hopefully not ooc lol

-VERY caring

-probably the best option along with tighnari

-he will worry a lot but will definitely help you

-binge eating? distractions and potions/pills to stop you from gaining too much weight

-not eating at all? motivation, choking on his "tasty" food on purpose— then asking if you want some, and trying to get you to eat by sending you random ahh gifs of food like:

-i mean it has helped you sometimes

-but if it doesn't work then he will ask his snake to motivate you in some unknown way(it has worked a few times but nobody knows her tactic)

-i hc him sending those cringy boomer gifs as reaction pics lmfao help

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

✧ Kaveh

-ABSOLUTELY worrying about your health 24/7

-he has to construct some very complex building due in 3 hours? that will not stop him.

-he will worry TRIPLE for you

-if you eat too much he will ask you to share some food, take some, and then take the whole bag saying "no more for you."

-and if you don't eat at all hes gonna keep asking you if you want some of the food he's eating, to the point where he will ask 75738 times just for you to say "fine." no matter how annoyed you get.

-he WILL share his food with you if it makes you feel better

-he will send you random messages throughout the day, especially when he's not there, like:

-"what's your current relationship with food?"

-oh and ofc he will ask alhaitham and tighnari for advice with whatever you're dealing with

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

nice

not bad tbh

i loved writing this one but especially for baizhu and kaveh lmfao i hope y'all like it as much

| @mariaace <3

[sugoi-and-spice]

Chapter Twenty-Nine - Nice While it Lasted

Summary: Tomura Shigaraki was her dad’s boss’s son. He was the creep that stole girls’ underwear and tried to grope her in his room. But it’s not like he could get her Dad fired just because she wouldn’t sleep with him, right? …right?

CW: Quirkless!AU, Explicit Smut, Dub-Con, Coercion, Blackmail, Cheating, Sexual Guilt, Humiliation, Unhealthy Relationships, Power Play, Hate to Love, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Slow Burn

A/N: Manga readers.... I... I'm so sorry for this chapter.

Read Full on AO3

[excerpt]

Tomura Shigaraki didn’t dream.

Or at least, he didn’t consider the series of thoughts, images, and sensations that he experienced in his rare stints with sleep to be dreams. Dreams in his mind were fantasies. Visions of a hopeful future or irrational exercises in imagination. Dreams were nonsensical, removed from corporeality and truth. The things that happened in dreams weren’t real.

This is not what Shigaraki experienced when he slept.  

While the flashes in his mind always felt nonsensical at the time, coming in and out of his mind in orderless bits and pieces like a corrupted stream, whenever he came to his senses, he was always able to sort them out. He knew that they weren’t his imagination. These were memories, things that truly happened to him. Even if they didn’t stick with him for long after, he knew that much. Everything he saw when he slept was a horrible, undeniable truth.

Which is why when he shot up in bed around three in the morning with visions of her fresh on his mind he felt particularly unsettled.

He wasn’t sure where they were exactly, somewhere unfamiliar. Somewhere endless. The light around them was too blindingly bright to see it clearly. A city sidewalk maybe, he could faintly recognize the hum of conversation and commuters walking past him in all directions, minding their own business.

They stood facing each other, a considerable distance between them, just staring. She wore an expression that should’ve comforted him (and in many cases had) a small smile and a soft, relaxed gaze. She looked content, completely satisfied with everything around them. 

But it unnerved him here, considering the fact that she was just watching him, ragged, desperate and tearing at his own throat with reckless abandon in the middle of the street. She should’ve been horrified by the sight, worried about him. She always had been, even in the beginning of all this, she never wanted to see him hurt.

So why did she look so happy watching it now?

“You told me everything. Gave up everything,” she repeated words he didn’t recall saying, “No… More like that creepy Sensei gave up on you, right?”

He couldn’t speak anymore, didn’t know if ever could actually. His voice was gone, trapped by a burning closure in his throat. He couldn’t even nod. All he could do was stare at her, stuck in a shell-shocked muck of despair.

“You have nothing…” she clapped her hands together happily, “ Finally, you have nothing!”

He couldn’t breathe. The weight of the world, of her horrible joy crashing down around him was too heavy. 

“Oh come on… Don’t look at me like that,” she tilted her head, a taunting little pout on her lips, “There’s no way this can be a surprise. After everything you did to me, did you honestly think that I’d forgive you? That I’d love you?”

The completely shattered expression on his face was answer enough. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“What an idiot…”

Finally, horribly, she started walking towards him.

“It’s a shitty feeling isn’t it? Having nothing. You’ve felt it before. I’ve felt it…” 

She planted her hands on his shoulders, tight. Painfully tight, like they were breaking him to pieces.

“And you deserve to feel that way for the rest of your life.”

He wasn’t imagining the pain. It was a searing, cracking feeling surging through his muscles and neck, his joints and very being. He snapped down to look at his shoulders as it intensified, as he began to crack and crumble under her fingers, his entire body decaying away into dust. It hurt and it emptied him, which only served to destroy him further, faster. The feeling of having nothing, of turning into nothing, all while she stood smiling in front of him, happy he was gone. And as his eyes started to go, he could see everyone around them suddenly stop to stare at him, to watch the wind sweep his remains up away into the blinding, parting clouds above.

They were happy to see him disappear too.

Before the last of him faded away was when he finally woke up, body lurching forward, sending the game controller abandoned on his chest clattering onto the floor. 

Lit only by the Game Over screen of whatever he’d fallen asleep playing, he couldn’t remember. It didn’t ultimately matter. Right now all that mattered was the tightness in his chest, the burning in his lungs as he gasped for breath like he hadn’t taken one in hours. It certainly felt like he hadn’t. He definitely hadn’t breathed that entire dream.

No… Not a dream, he reminded himself. After all, Tomura Shigaraki didn’t dream. In his sleep, he only ever saw the truth — horrible and desolate as it was. But this was strange. That interaction between them, he knew that it wasn’t something that had happened between them before.

Which meant it was going to happen in the future.

Continue on AO3

[neverfilth]

The Hymentacts and Dysfunctional Family Roles

Analysis below the cut

Before we dive deeper into this in relation to the Hymentacts, let's first explain what these roles are and what they represent within the inner workings of the Family system. 

For this post I’m going to cover a triangular set of roles that coincide with one another and form an unhealthy dynamic amongst the family members within them. 

The Golden Child:

The child who is often favored and receives special treatment and praise from the parent. They may also suffer from the weight of high expectations and a need to succeed out of a fear of losing their position as the family favorite. They are expected to excel at and achieve what the parent demands of them and may often be a proxy for achievements the parent failed to act on in their own childhood or adult lives.

The Invisible Child:

The child who is unacknowledged and undervalued by their parent. They are often ignored or dismissed and often feel as if they don't exist at all in the eyes of those around them. The invisible child may often be regarded by the offending parent as not suitable to fill the needs deemed important or may not fit into the role they require of them. 

The invisible child often becomes used to the idea of being unseen, and this will persist in areas outside the home. Often, this child will have difficulty developing socially. 

The Scapegoat:

The punching bag of the family, and is used as a meaning of blame in place of legitimate issues. Can be seen as a “problem child” or “trouble maker.” They could also be the member of the family who is verbalizing or acting out against the problems the family is trying to deny or conceal. 

Notably, the Hymentact family is missing one of the three common roles within their children, the scapegoat.

But interestingly, it seems that Raymond could have filled this role but from a parental side. 

It is also possible for Modella to become the scapegoat after Lunchbox takes her place as the golden child, but there isn't enough information to speculate further without delving into full-blown headcanon territory. 

So, what role does each respective member of the family fit into?

The Dysfunctional Parent-

Though there are many different forms of parenting that can lead to a dysfunctional family system. In this case our offender is possessive, critical, and controlling of their children. They are more concerned with what their children can supply to them, seem to fear their children becoming independent, and will go to extremes to prevent this from happening.

In the small glimpse we see of Mrs. Hymentact, it's very clear that she runs her home in a very rigid and demanding way. Even in the set dressing we see just how controlling she is, as the furniture is covered in sterile plastics. No doubt in an attempt to keep an outward appearance of a pristine and perfect household with no room for flaws. It reflects her need to hold control over not only the home but also her rigid family mold and by extension her own appearance. Those who do not fit into her vision of the perfect Family are cast aside and ignored; in the case of Bloberta. Or if they do not comply with her demands they are beaten down emotionally until they do so; in the case of Raymond.

Which brings us to the second parent within the system.

The Enabler-

The enabler is the co-parent of the dysfunctional parent and can have many different forms. In the case of Raymond, the enabling is far more passive. He does not gaslight his children or back up his wife and even speaks out against her in some small cases, though only in short quips that are quickly backtracked upon. In ways he is an ally, but only a superficial one. However, in the long run this does not matter because he is unable to take a stand against his wife and instead allows everything to unfold around him. Allowing the cycle of abuse to continue, and letting the dysfunctional parent rule the roost.

Raymond could also be considered the scapegoat, but over time, he becomes a beaten down blend of both roles. His opinions are not valued, and he simply goes along with what his wife says instead, choosing to numb himself as an easier alternative to fighting back.

The Golden Child-

For the Hymentact's the golden child is an interesting role, because when we see things unfold it seems as if both Modella and Lunchbox fill this spot.

The interesting thing about that is that they can potentially represent two different paths of the role as they come into adulthood.

Modella is the one easiest to place into the role due to her being the most talented in the family choir. Her mother sings her praises in order to tear down Bloberta when she tries to include herself in the family's activities.

She is essentially weaponized and used against her simply by existing, though we are never able to see her own inner opinions of her sister.

But with Modella, there is hope. She doesn't actively chide or berate her sister, but she does defend herself, and we see her perk up when her mother compliments her.

To Modella, her position can be seen as extremely tenuous in her eyes, especially with Lunchbox in the picture. So, there is more need for her to protect that position on the pedestal her mother has placed her on.

I can see Modella fitting more into the category of a guilt ridden golden child. The kind that still holds empathy for their siblings and growing into adulthood would try to find a way to mend the rift that was formed between them.

Now, with Lunchbox, there is a distinct difference in how he behaves compared to Modella. There is, of course, a stark age difference between the two, so there is a gap of maturity, but we do see him delight in his sister's exclusion. Already, we see Lunchbox being praised for simply existing.

Is he as talented as Modella? We really don't know the answer, but my guess is that no. He is not.

But even still, Lunchbox is being set up to be the new golden child, but this time, it is simply on the merit of his gender.

This should not be a surprise in a town with such dated culture as Moralton. Lunchbox is Mrs. Hymentacts first son, and therefore his value is automatically higher than both of her daughters.

No matter how talented Modella is, she has no chance to compete with Lunchbox and the talent that was cultivated by her family suddenly becomes less valuable. Though unlike Bloberta she isn't ostracized and ignored because she still has that pedigree that her mother can make use of.

Into adulthood I imagine Lunchbox growing into the more toxic flavor of the golden child. The kind that buys into the excessive validation and hype of the offending parent, and truly believes that they are better than everyone else.

So between him and Modella the two would mature into very different sides of the golden child's hypothetical paths.

The Invisible Child-

This then brings us to Bloberta, who fills the role of the invisible child. Bloberta is not hated enough to be a scapegoat, she is instead treated as if she doesn't exist. In her mother's eyes she holds little value. So little, in fact, that she is barely acknowledged.

When Bloberta chimes into her family's singing, her mother doesn't even register the thought that it could be her. Instead, she chides Modella despite the high praise she has for her. Bloberta simply doesn't register as a part of her mother's world until she speaks up.

“Um, mom, that was me singing… Along with the family.”

Now she can be recognized, if only for a moment, but only to be brought down and further relegated into her role.

“Really, Bloberta, you know we don't need two Sopranos, and your older sister has perfect pitch.”

Here we see a small glimpse into her mother's thought process. Bloberta is redundant when compared to her sister, and is seen as less talented in her eyes. But in reality it is far more likely that Bloberta’s talents were simply not given the attention they needed to develop properly. Which is common with invisible children. They are not given the notice they need to develop socially and within their interests.

So, she continues to relegate herself to the background. Though she still tries to make attempts to be seen, it seems as though they fall on deaf ears.

Unseen and unheard by all but one person, her father.

This leads to a fragile connection between the two. Where their presence makes the other feel more validated.

From Raymond’s perspective he is able to make some sort of conscious effort towards making Bloberta feel seen but he will never do anything to change what is happening within the family as he himself is not valued and does not have the courage to stand against the toxicity of his wife's actions.

So even though their situation remains in limbo, Bloberta feels seen and valued thanks to his presence, but even that is fleeting.

Emotionally, he is still distant, closed off, and unable to provide the affection she craves that will allow her to feel truly emotionally validated. He can't even reciprocate the affirmations of her love towards him. He doesn't even acknowledge them.

“Okay… I'll shut back up.”

So still, she suffers socially and is unable to form any genuine connections that go deeper than surface level even with the family member she sees herself as closest to. 

Though we know there is one significant trait that she learned to mirror from her Father. 

We have no clue how early she started drinking, but this could've been somewhere in  her early early teens as a form of mirroring the emotional capacity of the parent who did notice her. 

The one parent she felt she had a valid connection to.

Turning to some form of unhealthy coping is not uncommon in invisible children, and it can go as far as being a cry for attention to become more noticed by their family. 

An invisible child may be at risk of being unseen even into their adult life, and in Bloberta's case, this is true as well. 

We see her being obsessed with the concept of being helpful, but even that can be seen as a way to gain the usefulness that was built up as so important in her home and that she so distinctly lacked. There are societal aspects to this side of her character as well, but the two coincide. 

In adult life, she put herself into a situation where, similarly to her childhood, she is undervalued and unseen. 

From the beginning, she may have even noticed the signs of that, but simply didn't see them as strange due to what she experienced in her homelife. 

In order to circumvent this, we see her fully occupy herself with things that are deemed useful in her role, in another outward attempt to gain favor and become seen. Though these cries, similarly to the ones of her childhood, go unnoticed by many around her. 

She is essentially a ghost within her home, as if nothing has changed.

So she seeks validation elsewhere, and eventually, she receives it. But in the end, that too is superficial and results in a cycle that anoints a new lost child.

Though the factors that cause Bloberta to relegate Shapey into this role are different than those of her mother, Bloberta is repeating the neglect that she experienced with her own son. 

Be it because she was never able to fully grow socially and emotionally, or if she sees him as a reminder of a loveless affair. 

Either way, she has perpetuated the cycle and put her child on a path not dissimilar from her own. 

But there is still time to break that cycle, and allow his voice to be heard…

[euphoricfilter]

hello! can i please have a fluffy soft yandere drabble with taehyung and "i didn't think it was possible to love someone this much.", please? thank you! have a nice day!

20191009 i like her:

pairing: yandere! taehyung x reader

genre: fluff || non-idol au || established relationship

summary: taehyung loves to take care of you

word count: 1k

tags/ warnings: lots of fluff, very briefly touched on unhealthy relationship, the flu (ew stinky), soft yandere! boyfriend tae, it’s super tame honestly considering some of the other yanderes i’ve written

notes: a self indulgent comfort fic from when i was sick a month ago and just never posted it ~ drabble game is closed <3

drabble masterlist || my full masterlist

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ. ───

The human body is truly fascinating, strange in the way it works when you’re sick. How your temperature spikes before you’re sinking to what feels like subzero. Shiver tickling your spine, head throbbing and throat sore; truly an awful combination.

You seem to take every day for granted, grateful for what you had when you remember how awful being ill truly is.

“Please, baby” Taehyung kneels beside the bed, floorboards creaking under his weight.

You shake your head, “It tastes bad, Tae”

“It’ll help with your cough, please” his thumb brushes over your knee.

You shake your head, sudden motion tickling your throat; prickly cough spiking through your chest.

Taehyung sighs, cough mixture abandoned on your nightstand as he wanders out the bedroom.

Really he couldn’t be mad when in retrospect it was his fault. You never left the house all that often, everything you’ll ever need in his apartment. And he’d thought it’d be cute to take you out on a date, to a restaurant he’d been eyeing for a while. It was your anniversary, it was only right that he spoiled you a little.

Your immune system had never been all the best, even before Taehyung had started keeping you home. So, really he should have known that walking around the park after dinner would be too much for you.

You think you’ve won, head falling back onto your pillow, summer duvet pulled up to your chin so you wouldn’t overheat.

Taehyung takes a seat beside the bed once more, and he watches you eye the tangerines in his hand.

“For me?” you ask, pushing yourself to sit up.

Taehyung hums, tucking your hair behind your ear before he starts peeling the tangerines for you.

“No medicine then?” you dare ask, nose scrunching up at the mere thought of it.

“Nope” he grins, “medicine and then tangerines to get rid of the icky taste— open up”

Your mouth falls open, chewing as Taehyung opens the cough mixture.

“None of that” your boyfriend laughs as you frown, “the quicker we get it done, the quicker I can make us lunch”

His thumb brushes under your eye after you swallow, hand slipping down your cheek until he’s cradling your face. Your eyes slip shut when he pressed a soft kiss to your lips, tongue prodding the seam; gentle puff of air caressing your skin as he tastes the remanence of the cough mixture coating your lips.

<3

You fall asleep in the bath as Taehyung runs a washcloth over your back. A towel dipped in cold water resting over your heated forehead, relief washing down your flushed cheeks.

The water ripples around your body as Taehyung turns you to face him, soft hands caressing your shoulders and down your chest. The bubbles spitter against your arms, and you can smell the faintest scent of vanilla through your blocked nose.

Neither you nor your boyfriend say anything, the gentle hum of the record player whirring away in the bedroom, a jazz album Taehyung had recently bought humming through the bathroom.

Yeontan’s nails clip against the tile floor, your furry companion stretching across Taehyung’s lap as his knuckles work your shoulders, kneading away any knots.

You and Tannie fall asleep on the couch after your bath, velvet blanket tucked up to your chin as the dog lays over your chest with his own blanket slung over his small body. A movie you had no care for playing in the background as Taehyung mills around the kitchen.

“Feeling any better?” Taehyung pushes your hair out of your face, and your groan. Pulling the blanket higher over your face.

“Nauseous” you whine, Tannie fussing over your chest as you wiggle.

“Lets have something to eat then, yeah?”

You shake your head, unsure if Taehyung even saw as he turns back the coffee table.

The world spins when your boyfriend hoists you up from under your arms, your hand shooting over your mouth at the sudden movement; awfully scared you’d throw up over your favorite blanket.

“Here” Taehyung gently hands you the tray, soup still steaming when you stare down at your bowl.

“You want any bread?” he calls from the kitchen, Yeontan following him in hopes of a treat.

“Just a slice” you peek over the back of the couch, hand fumbling around for the remote.

“Ah!” you turn to Tae, “It’s good” you marvel as you drop your spoon back onto the tray, always in awe of his cooking.

“Really?” he smiles, cheeks dusting the lightest pink, and you nod, puckering your lips for a kiss.

Taehyung indulges you, smiling against your lips as he presses a little deeper, almost tipping the both of you over.

His hand falls on the back of your neck, humming into your mouth, and you whine as he pulls away, air spilling into your lungs.

“I didn’t think it was possible to love someone this much” Taehyung tells you after you’re done eating; an old romcom muted on the television. “I really hate seeing you suffer, my darling”

“I’m feeling better” a gentle smile graces your face, soon followed by a cough, but Taehyung can’t help but laugh, aways in awe of you.

<3

You fall over his lap, eyes reflecting galaxies and stars and a universe built solely for the the both of you and no one else. Because why would you need anyone more than him when he was your whole world? Just as you were his.

His fingers rake through your hair, eyes flitting across your face as you sleep, face pressed against his stomach and hands fisting the back of his hoodie.

Next anniversary he thinks he’ll plan a picnic on the balcony, or a feast with all your favorite things. And all the kisses you ever deserve and need, and letters of love and poems of why you are the only person that would ever matter to his fragile mortal mind.

He traces his name over your arm with his finger, lips curling upwards as goosebumps prickle your skin with each gentle caress.

“I love you” you murmur, and he’s unsure if your awake.

“I love you more”

A fact you’d never be able to argue, because as much as you loved him, it would never match the haunting feeling of sadistic love he felt for you back. Something eternal, because he’d never let anyone take care of you the way he did.

“I know” you whisper back.

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

AITA for asking my mom not to talk about her own weight?

it is currently the holidays, and my mom (60f) is very frequently complaining about all the unhealthy food around, how much weight she feels like she’s gaining, and talking about the diets she’s going on starting in January. These conversations have a very fatphobic tilt, and my parents have an awful habit of insulting the weight of strangers they see out in public. I (29x) always tell them off for the latter, but I generally leave her alone about the former because even though I don’t like the way she talks, I don’t know how to deconstruct her entire mindset about weight that leads her to act this way.

However, my little brother (25m) just flew in to Christmas, and he has a diagnosed eating disorder. I am 100% sure that the way my parents have talked about weight our whole lives is what led to this, which my mom denies with the claim that her words don’t apply to us since we’re skinny. In addition, my brother’s mental health has been doing worse lately, to the point where he had to be briefly hospitalized for depression in October.

So 2 days before my brother got here, I pulled my mom aside and told her that I don’t want her to talk about weight, diets, or how amounts of food eaten at all for the weeklong duration of my brother’s stay in case it might trigger him. He did not ask me to do this, I just want to look out for my baby brother. My mom was pissed about this since she thinks it’s unreasonable to police how she talks about herself, considers this sort of thing normal small talk conversation akin with talking about the weather, and it is difficult for her to cut out entirely since she talks about it every single day, especially around the holidays. After an argument, she grudgingly agreed to cut it out until he leaves, but made it clear she thinks I’m in the wrong and that my dad would agree with her.

(Side note: my brother is dating a larger girl, and after I first met her, my mom tried to privately insult her weight to me behind both of their backs, which I very quickly shut down.)

What are these acronyms?

[loth-creatures]

I’d love to hear your wall of text about the Sion’s voyage!

Aight, so if there's one thing I hated about the show it's that the journey to a whole ass new galaxy felt like it took 5 minutes. So in my star war it takes roughly 7 weeks and it fucking SUCKS

Disclaimer; this is just a huge mess from my head, nothing is set in stone, and I'm only really planning to comicify the last few parts ;)

Also cw for some implied self-harm ideation, terrible coping mechanisms, deteriorating mental health, violence and injuries (just mentioned, not in detail)

To set the scene, they're using the training/rec room as Sabine’s prison bc Wolfbine is too big for the actual brig lol. Much to the entire crew's irritation. The first week or two they just handcuff her in a corner at blasterpoint whenever they want to use it I guess, and find a closet to lock loose equipment in. At least she gets some entertainment. She probably also gets beat up a few times (you should see the other guy) for commenting on people's techniques. But eventually they decide she probably won't try anything and stop caring she's there, so she's left alone for the most part.

She spends a lot of time working out, bc otherwise she is strongly considering bashing her head into the wall. Having to sit alone as a human and pace in circles as a wolf for days on end with the weight of her decision and all kinds of fresh guilt is doing terrible things to her head...She is also spending a lot of time trying and failing not to sob and scream in the shower when no one's around. There is also a viewport in the rec room and Sabine spends an unhealthy amount of time staring into the rainbow swirl of hyperspace. She can't tell whether or not she's hallucinating the strange shapes that occasionally drift into view, singing strange songs that she can feel more than hear. It reminds her of the ocean and she shudders and dreams of drowning, being crushed by the depths. And she dreams of Ezra alone and lost in this void. There's no easy way to break free of such thoughts when she's essentially trapped in a fish bowl.

Meanwhile, Shin hates Sabine even more now for making her a Wolfwalker. She is not adjusting well to turning into a giant beast every time she tries to sleep and on a cramped vessel with little space to stretch those legs. Having been bitten only just before boarding the Sion, she hasn't had the chance to run wild for miles with the wind in her fur; all she knows is that the journey feels twice as long and horrid when she's consious 24/7. Baylan, on the other hand, is like DO YOU REALIZE HOW AWESOME THIS IS?! YOU SHOULD BE THANKING HER. He's not jealous persay, but. Well. Careful what you wish for...

Wolf Sabine and Shin are both getting major zoochosis smh. It's a miracle Shin hasn't killed a random crew member yet. Wolfbine behaves for maybe a week before she starts chewing up the flooring and howling and screaming husky style just to be a little shit. See how long it takes before someone threatens to shoot her, muzzle her, throw her out the airlock (not long). She can't afford to antagonize the crew too much bc there is only one person on the entire ship who wants her there and he has limited authority. Baylan is quick to remind her of this.

He also makes several attempts to talk to her and get on better terms, as he would like to learn more about the wolves. He tells her of the old fragments of stories of Wolfwalkers he found in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant and his facsination with them and how chasing such tales lead to his other ambitions. Lowkey info-dumping about all the fairy-tales and mythalogical stuff that Shin never took an interest in. Sabine is deathly bored enough to tolerate it to extent, but she is not forgiving him for 'killing' Ahsoka, for digging in her head, for putting her in this situation, and she is absolutely kicking herself for having bitten Shin. For letting anyone affiliated with the Empire close to Lothal's secrets. Too her it's put a deep crack through her promise to protect Lothal, perhaps not as much as having given Thrawn a way home, but she's going to try her damnest to undo that one, and shoves that looming guilt aside as best she can, instead spiraling about the fact that she made Shin a Wolfwalker and short of killing her there is no undoing that. So most of her conversations with Baylan end with telling him to go fuck himself.

Just now realizing I've never gone into detail about why Sabine bit Shin. It was a complete accident. Split second reaction out of pain after taking another small slice from Shin’s lightsaber during their fight on Seatos, which she was able to heal herself but it slowed her down enough for Shin to escape. With a nasty little nip to the arm.

That all said Sabine does not want to kill Shin, in fact she's just starting to feel sorry for her. Shin might be all MY ARCH NEMESIS SABINE WREN, but from the beginning Sabine is just like ugh can this random chick stop making my life harder 🙄

And if she's this miserable as a wolf rn, she can imagine what Shin's going through as a first timer, which is all her fault :( plus the fact that as wolves they are instinctively drawn to other wolves and each of their suffering seems to exacerbate the other's. They are both so lonely. 2 weeks in and (human)Sabine is bored and desperate enough to try heckling Shin into sparring with her, on the rare occasion she passes by (Shin’s been avoiding that room). 3 weeks in and Shin's gotten bored and desperate enough to accept the invitation.

I hc that during a friendly match, most Force-users will refrain from using the Force against a non-Force-user for the most part. Shin is not interested in friendly and absolutely hammers Sabine unless Baylan is there to remind her to play nice. Sabine is fine with this. She wants Shin to use the Force (come at me bro). If anyone's gonna be holding back it's Sabine. She wants to get as familiar as possible with Shin's fighting skill and habits without revealing the full extent of her own, while also slowly learning to anticipate and work around Shin’s use of the Force. That way she'll have an advantage the next time they fight for reals. It's difficult to impossible to hold back though, while still presenting enough of a challenge to keep Shin coming back for more.

While Sabine is more experienced, with a wider range of techniques and more refined skill, Shin is still skilled and powerful and it's hardly a fair fight without her armor and gear. She gets her shit rocked.

Sabine is very rarely able to beat Shin when she's using the Force. But she can withstand her. Many of their fights don't end with a quick, decisive victory so much as Shin just wearing Sabine down until she physically can't fight anymore though she refuses to tap out or surrender. Because for one, it's pissing Shin off, which is fun. And for two, ending the fight means returning to the hell that is sitting alone and staring out that window until it makes her sick in the head. She would kill a man for a single can of paint.

While Shin is toying with Sabine and using her as a bunching bag on the basis that she asked for it, keeps asking for it, doesn't know when to give up, and totally deserves it 😤, she is no easy opponent and Shin is continuously shocked by Sabine's ability to survive her. She was supposed to be just another enemy to tear through, yet has survived two murder attempts, and Shin is now stuck with her on this godforsaken ship for some reason, and she doesn't even have the grace to admit when she's defeated. Unstoppable force has met unmovable object.

Shin simultaneously resents and admires her, though doesn't quite respect her yet. And she definitely fears her a little (though she would never admit that). I kinda get the vibe that Shin’s never really lost a fight, has never truly been left for dead at the end of a battle, and the thought terrifies her. Either she is invincible or she is dead. Meanwhile Sabine can be coughing up blood and she'll be like 'cool see you tmr'✌️😎 The fact that Shin probably deleted one of Sabine's kidneys on Lothal and she seems hardly intimidated is well. Intimidating. And annoying. And hot.

I feel like at some point Baylan would point out that Shin could probably learn a thing or two from Sabine if she would stop beating the shit out of her for two seconds. Shin is already aware of that but doesn't want to admit it.

Meanwhile Sabine just doesn't care anymore what happens to her as long as she lives long enough to get off this accursed vessel, doesn't care how hurt she gets, as long as it passes the time and distracts her from her spiraling thoughts. She's offered a medic multiple times and refuses each time. She doesn't want them seeing the full extent of her injuries and then finding out she can heal herself with the wolf-magic, bc the Empire doesn't need to know about that. She only heals the worst injuries and then gaslights Shin about it. 'You did not break any ribs lol I'm fine quit flattering yourself.' Shin’s like how the fuck are you still standing.

This routine of brutally taking out their frustrations on each other is gonna get old though, and is completely unsustainable. Eventually Shin’s convinced that Sabine is just using her for pain. Which isn't wrong even if it's not the only or even primary reason Sabine keeps asking. Sabine calls her out on fighting like a coward and enjoying hurting her anyway. Shin goes and sulks for a few days after that (not without punching Sabine in face first).

Ok time out. What the hell is Shin’s deal anyway. I have only some half-baked ideas about Baylan and Shin’s...thing. They're like the closest thing we've gotten to 'grey Jedi?' I guess? I've been operating under the assumption that that's what they're essentially trying to be (though it's not what they'd call themselves), something more than Jedi, Baylan says, and that 'more' is just chasing power. They will inevitably fall completely. Probably need to watch the show again to get a better read on them tbh but I would rather not. It will hurt my feelings again :( Baylan is like the mountain. He's calm, he's steady and the darkness erodes him slowly. He thinks he's successfully toeing the line with the dark side, but his faults are most evident in Shin's training. She is like a hurricane. The Force rips through her, chaotic and volatile and her control is iron yet brittle. She hasn't known inner peace a day in her life. She just taught herself restraint in the sense that she suppresses her power until she needs it to plow through her enemies. She will fall far more quickly than her master. Baylan's teachings follow the Jedi's to an extent but once the darkness is let in, those lessons become skewed and contradicted, and Shin is a mess because of it, only mirroring her master's control on the surface. Baylan isn't the worst teacher but he is not a good one. While Shin loves and trusts Baylan, she is getting tired and frustrated following his mysterious whispers of legends to an end he never explains clearly. And she is afraid.

ANYWAY, once Shin’s done sulking, one of these days her and Sabine are gonna have a genuine conversation or two and maybe agree to an actually friendly sparring match in which they agree to not just blindly pulverize each other. They take breaks and drink water and tend to their wounds like adults. And Sabine is like you know, we could just. Hang out. As wolves at least. It would suck sooo much less if you'd come play with me as a wolf xoxo. They slowly transition into a more definitive Truce.

Shin does start hanging out in the rec room as a wolf. Sabine still isn't volunteering info on the wolf magic but she does talk about what its like being wolfwalker in general. They tussel and chase each other around, often getting too rough but also loud enough that someone will come yell at them to stfu before they really hurt each other. It's much easier to take naps as wolves too after they've had a chance to burn some energy which makes the entire ship more peaceful.

However, you can't just be the first vessel in centuries to cross between galaxies and not have some kind of disaster right? Well it turns out the strange shapes out the viewport were not hallucinations. The Sion is essentially traveling through the cosmic deep ocean and there are bigger, older things than even the Purrgil out there. Nothing has an interest in attacking the Sion, but at some point something very large drifts close enough to jolt the Sion off course and shorts out the entire system. This ends up forcing them to drop out of hyperspace in the middle of absolute fucking nowhere.

It takes a few days to get the ship running again and recalculate the jump. And here's where Sabine gets to be a hero and earn some respect around here, bc most of their mechanics are droids which also shorted out and lost power. Seeing as they are at risk of losing life support, they let Sabine help with repairs and turns out she's one of the best mechanics on board, even considering the newer technology she doesn't have as much experience with. This also allows her to get more familar with the ship and find the best places to hide out when she eventually makes her escape, while simultaneously giving the crew more reason to let their guard down on her. Including Shin.

That first loss of power is the worst but there are several more blackouts along the way. Human Sabine and Shin are almost getting along now. They still don't like each other but they are hooking up (it does not fix them), and playing card games by flashlight and truth or dare. Maybe Shin even scrounges up some art supplies for Bean. Now she can pass the time hiding sharpie dicks all over the place. They are almost friends by the time there are three days left in the journey and Sabine is preparing to make her move.

Baylan was probably the one to initiate letting Sabine have her lightsaber to sparr occasionally. He wanted to test her metal as well. I think it would be interesting if they sparred a couple times. Baylan is much more chivalrous than Shin and also goes into teacher mode about sword fighting. Sabine isn't a novice anymore but he's still far more experienced. Shin is like no no no we are not adopting her Dad NO-

So anyway escape day comes, Sabine almost cronches Baylan to death, and Shin is beyond angry. Mostly at herself for letting her guard down enough to allow this to happen, she didn't really expect Sabine to not pull something like this in the end right? It's stupid to feel betrayed when it was so inevitable. She is still 100% gonna take it out on Sabine though, especially for almost killing her master.

Despite the escape attempt, Thrawn lets Sabine go as he does in the show, in the hope that she'll lead them to Ezra’s human body. He figures if anyone could find him, it would be a fellow wolfwalker who considers him dear enough to risk the fate of her entire galaxy. Everyone else is like you're just letting her go?? After all that??? And Thrawn's just like lol what did you expect from her? That's Sabine Wren. They probably do attempt to scan the ship for sabotage but it's so huge and her kyber bomb is so small and rudimentary that they don't find it.

At this point, Sabine is run utterly ragged. Bedraggled even. Having not slept in 2 days,(no room to wolf in the Sion's walls so she just had to stay awake 💀) suffered a heart attack at Baylan's hand, and got beat up by WolfShin again. She's visibly about to collapse and Thrawn's probably like 'do you...want to spend the night before you go? And a medic?' He knows he's most likely sending her to perish in the wilderness anyway, but was hoping to give her at least a chance at finding human Ezra for them. Sabine says hell no I'm getting out of here before you change your mind.

She rides until she actually does collapse, hides her body as best she can and continues as a wolf. She figures they let her go for a reason, and plans to run in erratic circles all night every night to hopefully throw them off, only later investigating any clues she finds as human for a few sporadic hours in the day. Thrawn does send Shin to track her at a distance. If she happens to find the trail of Wolf!Ezra first, kill her. This hunt through the wild will go on for several days at least, before there's any sign of Ezra.

[laura1633]

https://x.com/yuristappen/status/1821693567070314786?s=46&t=che4X6KyMSM-OuXsQeE6IA

i think people need to stop talking about this, and ok if it’s just some stupid tweet (its not okey to post but people are dumb) but in an interview? telling person that he’s fat? and how everyone around max is laughing and he is not understanding what is that so funny…

This actually made me really angry because just look at his sad little face 🥺 . I have so many thoughts but I don't even think I can get them down coherently so this is going to be a whole mess of an answer.

Also, I know this response is probably all out of proportion compared to the 10 second clip so please feel free to skip.

I don't think the reporter meant to call him 'fat' as such but was probably trying to point out that he was heavier pre-season (and things got lost in translation.) Or at least I hope that is what happened rather than her straight out calling him fat. HOWEVER and it's a huge however, I don't think she should even be asking about his weight. Whilst translation issues might have made it sound even harsher I can't understand at what point she decided this was a good or even interesting or useful question to ask. Image getting to interview someone who has achieved as much as Max and deciding that one of the handful of questions is going to be pointing out that he was heavier pre season when his workout regime had loosened a little (like yeah no shit!)

There have been lots of stories of drivers struggling with weight and going to unhealthy lengths to keep themselves lighter so there is clearly an issue around this in the sport so to ask a question like this with so little regard to that is just so unprofessional.

Max gets called out a lot for what he says and how that might impact younger generations then you get reporters (and I am talking in wider terms than this interview because I've heard sky say things in the past about driver's weights) getting away with making all sorts of comments and asking all sorts of questions without thinking of the wider implications.

I do like to give people the benefit of doubt so the Red Bull press officer (is that Gemma? I'm bad with names) laughing may just have been that she was so taken aback by it. I did notice that as soon as she saw Max's face she did place her hand on his back rather comfortingly and tried to somehow contextualise the question as being about how his training is different during winter break. Really he shouldn't have had to answer that question but it would have drawn even more attention to it if someone had stepped in and shut it down (even though I think he shouldn't have to answer stupid questions like that).

I hate that we are in a place where Max's pre-season figure is even considered fat. Perhaps social media and filters have warped peoples views or people can only comprehend a professional athlete having one very specific body type. I mean even if he had been "fat" its his body and he's a three time world champion, he knows what he needs to do to be at his best.

I will say that this clip was included in the documentary for a reason, perhaps a small statement on what drivers have to put up with.

And just to finish, I know that Max laughs with Crane on streams about Crane being bigger but there is something very different about joking with friends (who you hopefully know well enough to know what is and isn't a sensitive issue) and a professional interviewer asking questions about someone's weight.

Sorry for that huge wall of text 😂

[amethystunarmed]

A John Herschel Character Study

I have a lot of feelings about John that go into how I characterize him so I decided to organize them in an “essay” for Day 14: Family of @pulpmusicalsfortnight2024. This is my deep dive into how John's family and childhood affect him today, going into his character arc in the three published episodes of Pulp Musicals. Obviously your mileage may vary but this is the basis for my characterization of John when I write him. Inspired by @eggingtontoast's wonderful analyses of Karen Chasity and Jeri from the Hatchetfield series. Huge thanks to @snarky-wallflower for betaing this for me!

So starting in his childhood:

In the few lines we get about him, John's father is described as being firm and no nonsense.

In Polaris, John says that his father would be “unamused” by him playing a game with his astronomy knowledge and that would say “[You're] just tracing lines 'round things [I] spent [my] life to find.” Specifically, John noted that his father would be against it as it provided “no real benefit to society.” To me, these quotes are just a little too specific to be speculation; I bet William Herschel said this to John before, especially since John knows all the constellations despite his father apparently believing them to be unimportant.

I speculate that William Herschel has constantly reinforced this concept in John, that science isn't fun, it's important and respectable, and that John needed to be important and respectable in turn. And I think John took it to heart over the years. John's reputation is clearly incredibly important to him. He is also deeply concerned about what his father thinks of him, almost to the point of terror, in my opinion. 

He moved his entire project thousands of miles away and constructed it in total secrecy just so his father wouldn't learn if he failed. Samuel is so sure John's dad must be proud of him, but all John seems to feel is afraid. 

His reputation is tied so tightly together with his father's, that John's own failings will reflect onto him, and John's life is a constant comparison to his father's works. John even says that people consider his actions to be an extension of his father's “dreams... hopes, and fears” in Through a Glass. The shadow is long and all-encompassing, and John seems to feel the weight of it heavily. “The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, when they put a glass to me.” 

Whether William Herschel intended this or not, the constant pressure from both his father and society has led John to develop an unhealthy fear of failure and being seen as lacking, and all of this ties into his public persona. He needs to be taken seriously, and puts on this front of being stern and unflappable.  

His isolation only adds to this. He claims that he prefers being alone when he speaks to Rose in It's a Hoax (Reprise)/Carry On. “I should be in another hemisphere alone with the milky way.” We know he gets letters from Anna, his exception, the one person (so far) that he lets his walls down around, but other than that, he is utterly alone. He is “away from the world, but close to [his] heart.” He even admits this was intentional in the Shifts Reprise, that he “built a wall ten miles high of essays, books, and quips.” All John needs is his studies and the sky. He has removed himself from humanity entirely, and has been that way for three years.

This is the John we meet in Before the Storm and It's a Hoax (Reprise)/Carry On.

John comes in and is immediately uptight and no nonsense. This makes sense, given the ramifications of the hoax; John's reputation and most likely his father's opinion are highly on the line. He seems unpleasant at first, an antagonist to the twins’ writing dreams but... He is very quickly taken with Rose.

He doesn't want to be, initially seeming confused and standoffish towards her questions about his work, but she barrels through his defenses. He enjoys that connection, softens, calls her Rose.

Until he learns what she's done and that persona snaps right back in place, his commitment to his reputation and the validity of his name superseding that genuine human connection.

Then, John witnesses something impossible. Margaret glowing. The Radiance. A scientific marvel straight out of a fairy tale.

And we've reached John's Choice.

Because in my opinion, it is not just John's Choice for the story, but of what kind of man he is going to be.

This is where Benjamin comes in. Benjamin serves as John's foil in the Great Moon Hoax. We've witnessed his story; of Benjamin's initial wonder with Hoax, the way the writing moved him enough that he risked everything and gave it a platform, only to betray both it and the Stratfords in the end. 

Benjamin loved the story but there was always that undercurrent of greed and a focus on the money and social status that could be gained, i.e. his “We'll be rich by the end of the day.” in Is it True?

On the other hand, though John came in upset over the story and the damage it could do to his reputation, he has always been a little enamored with the Hoax. He says it was good! He mostly focuses on the science, but also says that in another life, he and the writer could have gotten along. He likes it, despite himself.

The Hoax lit that spark in him again, the one William Herschel saw no value in. Margaret's Radiance fanned the flames.

And so, when push comes to shove, John chooses the Hoax, the story. He chooses the whimsy and creativity and a world with no laws of gravity. He laughs. He becomes the story teller for a theoretical Great Astronomical Discoveries #4, and he “gives it all” to the crowd gathered. He even assists in getting Chester Thomas to continue publishing fiction!

As Benjamin writes himself out of the story, John writes himself into it.

And we see a whole different side to John in the Brick Satellite as this shift in his values continues! He has moments of that initial stuffiness, when he gets all huffy over the Moon Hoax (but never truly mad, not in the way Margaret is), but he shows more of himself, removing bricks from his own personal walls as they add the bricks to the Satellite.

He plays games with Rose on the ship during Polaris, he reveals his vulnerabilities to Samuel in Through a Glass. Samuel even recognizes him as one of their own during this song. When John says, “Imagining’s what you do,” Samuel replies, “A trait I share with you.” John isn't just a scientist, he's a dreamer who imagines a better world, just like the Stratfords. 

This culminates in John and the Earth, the tipping point. Because, the roles are fully reversed from so long ago in South Africa. John looks down at the Earth, at all the people he had walled himself away with for so long, and he loves them so fiercely he cries. He stands in the gift he created for humanity on his own dime with no recompense expected and he says “Heaven's not up here in the sky, heaven’s down there.”

He has looked to the heavens his whole life. It was what was expected of him, the footsteps he was supposed to follow. But looking at the Earth, he sees it. Sees what matters. He has never “felt so small”, away from all the fame and status his name and reputation give him. But he has also never felt “more part of it all.” Because that is John's story, the astronomer who falls in love with the Earth again.

(And falls in love with Rose, but he's still working on that one.)

[anxiously-going]

Body Swap

A transporter accident has left Jim and Bones in a bit of an odd predicament, namely swapping bodies. The outside perspective of his own body, leads to some uncomfortable thoughts for Bones.

Len sat over his own body and began kneading thr base of his neck. There was something surreal about the whole thing, but at the moment, he just felt guilty about it. It wasn't his fault, he knew that much. Transporter accidents happen. He was just thankful it was him and Jim that where the ones who managed to get their bodies swapped.

He and Jim knew each other well enough, knew the allergies and tricky joints and all the little quirks about what caused malfunction in each other's bodies, that the hardest part, up to this point, was having to face each other and be met with the realization that they did indeed occupy each other's bodies.

Unfortunately there was little to do to prevent a migraine episode in Len's body. Jim had been there for countless such episodes, fetching cold packs, meds, water, whatever Len needed. He knew how to handle them from the outside, but the outside he was not.

"Kid, you gotta breathe," Len admonished gently, pushing his hand into his hair. "There ya go, darlin'."

"I dunno how you deal with this," Jim complained, face still half burried in the pillow.

Len chuckled faintly. "It probably feels worse because you're not used to it. It's different from the stress headaches your used it."

"It's worse than the stress headaches I'm used to. Those don't usually make me nauseous."

"I know, darlin'," Len answered soflty, his accent sounded odd in Jim's voice, but he tried not to focus too hard on that. "Meds should be kickin' in soon."

He shifted tactics a little and began kneading his back, just between the shoulder, where he knew Jim tended to carry his tension. Len had been described as broad shouldered before, he remembered the offers from the football coaches, even the basketball coaches told him he'd make a great quarterback when he tried out for the team, but seeing it from the outside was different.

He wasn't sure if it made it better or worse.

He remebered being confused the first time Jocleyn had pointed out the weight gain to him. He hadn't been able to keep any weight on him during his university and med school years, due to the stress of it all. Once he'd graduated and things settled down as he fell into his new normal working thr clinic with his dad is when the comments had started. He'd been confused at first, he'd still been a perfectly healthy weight, probably healthier than he had been before. But Jocelyn hadn't seen it that way.

It was a battle thay only Jim knew the bare minimum about. Just enough to be able to help him avoid relapse.

He'd known it had caused him to pick up some unhealthy thinking, known it had warped how he viewed his own body, but he didn't realize just how much till he truly saw his own body from the outside.

He really was a completely normal and healthy weight. Hell, if a patient came in with the same build and appeared, Len would probably even call them fit.

It hurt to realize how much Jocelyn had done to him. He knew she'd been abusive, of course he did. He'd had that epiphany many times over during the Academy and the early days of his friendship with Jim.

But it hurt that he was still having them. Hurt that he'd loved her so much and she'd still been so cruel to him. Hurt that...it still hurt. Even after all this time, realizing how poorly she treated, him in so many different ways, it still hurt to realize a new unkindness.

He genuinely didn't know if it was worse to consider that the abuse had been intentional or worse to consider she didn't even see it for what it was herself.

"Bones."

Len started, the sound of his own voice calling his name, shocking him back to the moment. He glanced down and found Jim reaching out for him, pouting like an infant, making a face Len didn't know his face could make.

He smiled fondly and laid down, letting Jim snuggle into his arms. He held Jim close and tried not to think about the weight of his own body on his chest, he closed his eyes and reminded himself it was Jim he was holding.

He was with Jim and they were both healthy and that's all that mattered.

[skysaunter]

𝐃𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 : : 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐌 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐒𝐓, 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐈𝐒 𝐑𝐔𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐈𝐍 𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐌𝐄. twin!verse affiliated with @forcenexus

3 headcanons i wrote over the past week. questions provided by @tapalslegacy & @techniiciian 💕 thanks guys!! i'll take more questions if y'all have any!!

WHAT ARE THE BIGGEST CONTRASTS VADER HOLDS IN COMPARISON TO ANAKIN, ASIDE FROM WHAT IS ALREADY SEEN IN CANON?

aside from vader being an individual entity with his own unique thoughts and emotions?  quite a few, i’d argue.  to clarify, in this alternate universe, anakin and vader are identical twins.  they are not clones nor versions of anakin from a different universe, but twin boys carried to term by shmi skywalker.  their physical resemblance does not equate to identical thoughts, feelings, or life experiences,

as far as forcenexus/emrys and i have discussed, the events of the phantom menace unfold as usual, but the twins are separated at the age of nine.  qui-gon likely favored anakin, as he showed the greatest potential to become a good jedi—emphasis on good.

i’ve thought a lot about why qui-gon didn’t take vader along with him, and i’m sure i could come up with some extremely contrived but reasonable excuses, such as sensing a darkness within vader even at his young age, or qui-gon noticing that vader was not only temperamental but also quick to resort to violence—traits extremely unsuitable for a child already considered too old to train.  i could even rationalize his behavior by giving him a righteous justification, such as vader’s standoffish behavior towards the world around him was a protective measure to shield his family, especially his twin brother, from bullies and external dangers threatening to do harm.

but nothing makes more sense than vader voluntarily staying behind because he simply couldn't bear the thought of leaving his mother.

while i want to say this is for a very noble reason—and to some extent, it is—i must also acknowledge his choice to stay was not entirely selfless.  even if qui-gon had extended the offer to train him as well, vader would have willingly sacrificed the prospect of a better life because the weight of abandoning his mother would have been too heavy a burden to bear.

anakin, too, was deeply attached to his mother—but he was still able to leave her behind, albeit with the hope of one day freeing his family from slavery.

i think this example already reveals a fundamental difference between the two brothers.  vader’s struggles may hold a superficial resemblance to anakin’s, but the reality of their motivations and emotional resilience is far more complex.

  WOULD VADER RESENT ANAKIN?

this is a difficult question to answer, and i say that mainly because by the time vader is an adult, he is too self-aware of his current circumstances to misdirect his anger/resentment towards his brother.  at the same time, emotions can often defy reason, and he’s not only been trained but encouraged to give in to these negative feelings.  so yes, i do think there are times he experiences irrational bouts of anger whenever he thinks of his brother and the life he seems to embody.  however, i believe his emotions stem more from envy of his brother’s life than from genuine resentment towards him as a person.

the jedi of the prequel era are known for their strict discipline and emotional suppression, which, in some cases, reaches unhealthy levels, especially if mishandled — not saying this happens to all jedi, i’m saying this is the canonical explanation for jedi who are unable to release their feelings into the force.  these neglected feelings will become an internalized conflict, something anakin deals with throughout his entire life — but it’s nothing compared to what vader endured growing up under sidious’s tutelage.

first off, i don’t believe for a second that sidious groomed vader in the same manner as anakin.  to provide some insight into what i mean by that, i’m gonna just be frank about it: sidious was incomprehensibly cruel towards vader.  why?  because sidious had no incentive to show kindness.  he already favored one of the twins significantly, so why extend that courtesy to the other?

besides, this touches on sidious’s knowledge-seeking nature.  he relished in testing limits, especially if it yielded new insights, regardless of the cost—up to and including the subject’s life, as demonstrated with the zillo beast in TCW.   sidious was unabashedly self-serving; his self-interest was absolute.

for this reason, i don’t see why i wouldn’t apply the same logic in regard to the twins.   anakin, ostensibly nurtured by the jedi and under the guidance of the council, would thrive in his environment, becoming a celebrated hero during the clone wars.  meanwhile, vader would suffer in the shadows, enduring physical and mental abuse by sidious.  he would watch from afar as anakin garnered fame and admiration, all while biding his time on behalf of his master's grand plan.

sidious would absolutely use these points against vader by the way, and i don’t mean, “look at how accomplished and heroic your brother is,” because vader doesn’t give a flying fuck about his brother’s accomplishments.  he’s more pissed that sidious would praise anakin over what he perceives as ‘nothing special’.  sort of like, “well i can do that too but i don’t see you applauding me, you stupid old man wtf”

tbh, knowing that kinda makes it significantly worse for him, too.  vader despises that he craves praise from sidious—his abuser, the man who enslaved him a second time—yet he can't help himself.  it’s the child in him that wants to feel praise, to feel worthy of acknowledgment.

vader is acutely aware of sidious's tactics to provoke his temper, exploit his insecurities, and manipulate his feelings to foster genuine contempt for his brother.  the rule of two dictates that only the strongest survives to become the true apprentice.  however, having spent most of his life under sidious’s thumb, vader has grown far too perceptive of his master's manipulations to direct his negative feelings towards anakin.

overall, i want to say vader is catastrophically self-aware of his predicament; he understands he’s a pawn, but it’s easier to cling to the belief that he is a crucial asset, that sidious expects him to defeat his brother because a jedi is no match for a sith.  but vader would sooner die than acknowledge that, and he’d rather die than slaughter anakin, his own flesh and blood, the last vestige of their late mother.

after all, the force hasn’t spared his brother.  anakin, too, has been corrupted, brainwashed by the jedi to do their bidding.

vader's plan is to rectify this, to save his brother, once sidious is removed from the equation.

BONUS DISCO HC:

[10:26 PM] han solo for president: i thought of a really sad headcanon. what if vader still doesn't know how to read or write because sidious legit did not treat him like anything more than a tool/weapon/slave. like?? he might understand certain shapes mean certain letters, and certain sequences of letters mean XYZ ( exit / enter sign ) but outside of a superficial comprehension, i don't think he really knows anything??

and the only reason why his manner of speech might come off as 'refined' on the surface, especially in comparison to the way anakin speaks, is because sidious is a politician, therefore has a larger vocabulary pool.

when sidious kidnapped him, the kid only knew informal/colloquial huttese, basic, binary, and didn't know how to read or write. so that means he learned everything else through verbal communication and conjecture... and that's it

[10:32 PM] the future president’s son: i’m sobbing

thanks for reading!

[martiansodas-blog]

Hi I saw that your request are open

Can I request a Pedro pascal x plus!size reader that is an actress and she got the role in the last of us as Theresa/Tess or a made up character and people where really surprised to see her on screen again because when she was working on legacies she got a lot of hatred because of the character she was playing hope mikealson a lot of fans were telling her how she was so fat for the role and how she wasn’t pretty enough to play the main character of the show but she ignored what people said about her and how she looks like so maybe when there in an interview the person asked how she is doing because it seems that the hate comments are back the reader says she’s fine because she delt with the hate comments before and she just ignores them because there opinions don’t matter. all that matters to the reader is her family and friends because in the past she used to struggle with body positivity but she learned how to love herself and other people who are struggling with the same thing can learn how to love themselves like they have permission to love themselves because it doesn’t matter what body shape they are they are still beautiful (maybe the reader can say that or something related to body positivity)( I forgot to add that the reader is Pedro’s wife)

All our bodies

• Pedro Pascal x actress! plus size! reader

• Summary: After taking a few years off acting due to bullying, Pedro’s wife makes a comeback as Tess in TLOU.

• Word count: 543

• Authors note: Im also plus size ◡̈ This was requested months ago… sorry luv. I tried to write on it here and there but I have a full time job and going through relationship problems. You probably won’t see much original content from me for the foreseeable future. There’s just no time.

Xx

“You did a great job, you know that right?”

“I know, but listen. People like Tess, not me. I'm so nervous the media is gonna take one look at me in that interview and go back to treating me like shit.”

Tears began to form in your eyes. Pedro took your face in his hands and stroked your warm cheeks, calming you down.

He loved touching your face like this. It may seem strange but he loved the different textures of it. Your pimples and freckles are a part of you, why would he want to change that? In his eyes there is nothing wrong with you. You’re so unique.

Various social media accounts don’t feel the same. It really angers them that plus size people exist. You’ve never had a controversy, you’ve never wronged anyone in the industry, in fact people adored working with you. But you weren’t the carefully crafted, soft spoken, slim model that others expect. And it offends them.

It offends them that you’re this certain weight and not actively trying to change it. That you’re not ashamed of it. When you were at the height of your fame people accused you of promoting an unhealthy lifestyle. Without you even voicing an opinion on your own body, or showing the meals you eat.

It upset people that you didn’t care about their opinion.

“Anyone who wants to say something negative is gonna have to go through me first, hermosa.”

A smile broke free from your nerves. You stood on your tiptoes and kissed him. You whispered into his mouth,

“I love you”

“I love you too” he whispered back before deepening the kiss.

He put his large hands across the small of your back to pull you closer but you resisted.

“We should stop or you'll be late!”

He cupped your face and kissed you slowly, r eally making you feel the shape of his lips and the sweetness of them.

“It’d be worth it.”

• • •

“Did you feel pressure to change for this role?”

What the interviewer was trying to ask was “did you feel pressure to lose weight for this role?”

It wasn’t a totally preposterous question considering your line of work, but it was still a little invasive.

You thought about Pedro’s words. How he never doubted for a second you would make the perfect Tess.

You got a burst of confidence. You’re going to say how you really feel. The only opinion that was important to you was your lovers.

“What my body looks like always seems to be the topic of conversation, doesn’t it? Not my work or awards, but what I look like.”

The interviewer avoided your eyes, embarrassed.”

“I did my best to honor Tess in this series. To be frank, I don’t think Tess would give a fuck what she looked like. She was focused on being strong and supportive. All our bodies look different but that’s for a reason. What matters most is that you take care of it.”

When you looked over at Pedro he was beaming at you. He was so proud of his Cariño.

“I’m afraid that’s all the time we have for offensive questions.” he said and grabbed your hand to leave the interview.

[maria-taiwin]

Thinking about a angsty (just a bit) Wangxian modern!au scenario: Wei Wuxian just got a bad fever, and unfortunately he has no one at home with him to assist him (madame yu in this modern!au kicked him out of the jiang house, he lives in a small ramshackle apartment by himself). He already used to take care of himself, he got through much worse than a fever in his childhood, but still he misses so much being pampered by his shijie and the feeling he would never be alone anymore through these hard times, especially because it hasn't been that long since he's been kicked out.

He tries to endure the fever like it's nothing serious, he really does for hours but then it's like a nightmare and he just realized that the fridge is empty and he's getting weaker. He doesn't want to be a burden, never did, he hates that feeling but he's really tired and, fuck it, in a moment of impulse he decides to call Wen Qing: she is a friend AND a future doctor, which it's always useful. Yeah he'll have to bear her scolding about his unhealthy lifestyle but he really needs help in this moment so he is willing to endure.

The fever however is so bad that it causes him to hallucinate. He mistakes the number and he calls Lan Wangji by error. Believing the person beyond the phone is Wen Qing, he starts to whine about a bad illness that will kill him SOON if she doesn't go to his apartament, he urgently needs food and protein and how can a conscientious person just abandon him to his destiny, this is really bad, please have mercy, just think to the neighbors, etc etc. He exaggerates a bit but because he knows Wen Qing, she'll snort a bit but she will give up by her generous heart. When he blabbered though he didn’t realized that the person beyond the phone NEVER talked back. He's justified because the fever is really bad and didn’t pay attention and talked too much like usual. He ends the call.

After 10 minutes, not more, the bell rings. With difficulty he drags himself to open the door. He doesn't put on a show like at the phone, he just scratches his head in fake laughter, trying to play down the fever but still thanking the dear Wen Qing for the help. He doesn't realize that wen qing still doesn't speak at all, but his head is boiling so maybe it's for the best, he really couldn't stand to be scolded right now.

He just sits on the bed while "wen qing" prepares the dinner. He feels so relaxed, having someone taking care of him, feeding him, offering him a drink of water to take medicines, preparing him a delicious ginger tea (he's never been a fan of tea but this is really good) and handing him a blanket. A blanket with rabbits? It's really a warm feeling.

While he's overjoyed he also looks at "wen qing", who has her back to him and he is suddenly confused. Wen Qing's hair isn't that long (lan zhan is wearing a long braid), she's not that tall, her legs aren't that long, and she never wears blue and white... and what is this scent? Maybe the fever is giving him hallucinations? Suddenly she approaches, kneels in front of him, wei wuxian feels a hand approaching, not enough to touch his body but still its weight felt over the blanket and indirectly he feels its warmth. And then he hears a "wei ying".

Wei Wuxian freezes. What? Only one person calls him like that. Since his parents died, only one person has ever called him like that. But it's impossible right? Why would Lan Wangji, the icy and unapproachable jade of the school, being at home looking after him? As much as Wei Wuxian tried to be his friend, he was always ignored! Whenever he invited Lan wangji to do something or just called him, he only got a block of marble in response. He doesn't hold a grudge against him for that, indeed he considers Lan Wangji a very cool person, but still this is really impossible. And it would be too nice, having that cold and beautiful jade at his service, being all good for him. It's just a hallucination, of course.

He mumbles "ha ha why are you suddenly calling me wei ying ha ha ​​that's strange".

Just silence. He hears a sigh, and then suddenly he no longer feels that comfortable hand on the blanket.

He doesn't have time to complain because he suddenly feels a cool (not too cold, just the right temperature) cloth over his forehead. "Thanks" and puts his hand on top of "wen qing"'s.

He hears an arrest in her breath, that hand trembles a bit, but that uncertainty lasts only a few seconds. Then everything is comfortable. The bed, the extra blanket, his stomach deliciously full. Wei Wuxian is sleeping already but he thinks he's feeling a tight hand on his own. He imagines it's another person with him, not Wen Qing.

Of course after the recovery, he will just think that Wen Qing acted very strange, it was not like her at all. But he will thank her properly of course, because he never felt that safe from a very long time. And he will have to give her back the rabbit blanket, sadly.. because it is really cute and he got fond of it!

And of course he won't remember Lan Wangji at all. He'll think it was just an hallucination or a naive dream. And of course Lan wangji never dares to confess and he'll act like this never happened at school.