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bob-artist · 5 months ago

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Just found you via your funny dream comic. Good stuff 😆. Definitely gonna read the rest, and I was surprised you had your own website. Looks good on mobile too. I’ve got a comic that some friends keep trying to build me a site for but I’ve been telling them no because it seems like between webtoon and social media nobody is interested in personal sites anymore.

Have you noticed an uptick in engagement from your site? Would you recommend going that route? I’d like to hear your thoughts.

I’m also interested in how you decided to build/host it, if that question isn’t too lame.

Anyway, glad I found your comics!

Ah thank you for checking out Into the Smoke's website!!

Oh, I have SO many thoughts about independent webcomic sites and why people should have them. I have so many thoughts, and I'm so so sorry.

Why did I decide to have my own webcomic site?

First of all, this is not a lame question and I wish we could all have this conversation more often, so I could maybe write just a paragraph instead of this whole dissertation!

1. Because I lived through webcomics history.

I launched my first webcomic in 2011. I watched the webcomics scene shift over the years from self-hosted sites to third party sites, and I saw what it meant for independent creators. We lost vital infrastructure, relationships, habits, and control over our own work. I think self-hosted sites are an important backbone for creators, even if/when their largest *numbers* come from a third party site.

We’re all supposed to be helping each other, not fighting each other to satisfy the algorithm. Our early tools (webrings, link trades, comic databases, sharing each other’s posts) were small but meaningful, and they also helped us maintain a community mindset in a long and sometimes lonely line of work. When we started leaning on hosting sites, we let a lot of those tools and relationships decay. And now a lot of people are locked into imbalanced relationships with hosting sites that leave them with very little agency and control over their work and how it’s shared (or isn’t shared).

Hosting sites are great for removing barriers to entry (cost/time to build a site). And a lot of them have large built-in audiences. But the big ones aren’t run by people who care about creators. They’re designed to extract the maximum value from your work while giving you the least they can get away with. Use them if you want (I do), but don't be dependent on them.

2. Comics are the main thing I do for a living, and a website gives me the tools to promote my work and build relationships with my readers.

Most apps and third party sites actively prevent or suppress these things. On your own site, you can share all the info you want about your upcoming Kickstarter, your tradpub book release, your merch, etc. You can collect email addresses for your newsletter. You can literally just talk about your weekend, and you’re not gonna have a 150-character limit.

Yeah, not everyone wants to read a wall of text (ha ha...), but acting like a person reminds readers to treat you like a person. This is one of my main gripes with the apps and social media - they suppress human connection and present you like a cog in their machine that only exists to churn out free content.

3. I have a consistent home base and full control over how my work is displayed.

I don’t have to fight against an app that’s trying to direct my readers toward whichever content is most profitable for them. On an app, the readers “belong” to them, not you. (Who has their email addresses?) So if I'm putting effort into promoting my comic, I'm promoting my own site. (oh look, I just did it.)

Hosting sites/apps aren't designed to showcase your work. They showcase the app’s collection, and they're designed to keep readers on the app, jumping from creator to creator. This can help readers find you, but it also devalues your work and dilutes its impact.

And the app might not show your work to anyone anyway. Tapas is a great example; they recently redesigned their site to prioritize their Originals, and independent creators are hidden away in a “community” tab with barely any discoverability anymore. This is always the struggle on a third party site.

4. I hate censorship.

Into the Smoke is Teen 16/17+ and Demon of the Underground is R/18+. My comics aren’t even explicit, but I still can’t post my true, uncensored vision for either story on third party apps governed by Apple’s App Store and Visa/Mastercard’s tight content restrictions.

If webcomics exist exclusively on apps with heavy censorship, we’ll never have the diversity of storytelling and freedom of expression that’s necessary for groundbreaking or subversive art to happen. And that’s bad for everyone.

Adult brains need to engage with adult concepts. Difficult and triggering topics need to be explored in creative spaces. Artists need freedom to stretch their creative muscles without falling into the damaging patterns of self-censorship that come from having to tiptoe around arbitrary platform rules.

We can’t let the rules of like 3 American companies dictate what every webcomic reader around the world is allowed to read.

5. An independent website can’t easily be taken away from you.

Just make regular backups! You can always move to a new web host and redirect URLs if needed, and you won't lose your readers. On the other hand, you can easily lose the bulk of your audience on a third party site based on circumstances outside your control.

Let’s talk about Smack Jeeves, a formerly popular webcomic hosting site that was bought out and then shut down, leaving lots of cartoonists homeless. Or we can talk about the Tumblr NSFW purge of 2018, where I lost a huge chunk of my first webcomic’s following and most of my webcomic mutuals, even though my own account stayed within the rules. Or Musk buying Twitter, the platform where I once found my literary agent through a publishing event but now get no traction at all.

Have I noticed an uptick in engagement from my site?

I don’t have analytics on my site yet. But, up until a few days ago, that's where people were reading, thanks to my own efforts and the support of my comics friends and all of y’all who shared my ITS posts. (THANK YOU ALL!) I didn't have any discoverability on Webtoon or Tapas yet.

I got 10-15 new patrons between May 25 and June 5. Up until a few days ago, I even had more ITS newsletter subscribers than Webtoon subscribers.

What happened a few days ago is my Webtoon mirror suddenly blew up with 100+ new subs a day. I don’t know where I’m being featured, but I know I’m only getting those readers because Webtoon suddenly chose to grant me visibility. That can end just as instantly with an algorithm tweak or them deciding not to show my comic anymore. (When my first webcomic was in one of their pay programs in 2018, I went from $300 or $400/month to $0 overnight due to a policy change.) So I’ll enjoy it while it lasts, but I won't de-prioritize my website.

The new Webtoon readers are awesome and supportive, and I’m 100% thrilled to have them. But the Webtoon influx isn't resulting in a Patreon influx like my website launch did. I wouldn't expect it to, this early in the story. But it's consistent with my past experience polling my patrons: even when 50% of my readers came from the apps, 90% of patrons read on my website. (Your audience may vary.) And since I depend on crowdfunding for my comic, that's important to me.

Would I recommend going the route of having your own site?

For anyone who’s just testing the waters with webcomics, it might be overkill.

But for anyone who’s committed to their webcomic, I recommend having your own site AND mirroring on every third party site you can, provided you’re cool with their terms of service. It's important to meet readers where they are. Let those hosting sites lend you their readers. Some readers will even want to visit your home site where they can read ahead, read the uncensored version of your comic, get more info, or sign up for your newsletter.

Just remember, no one will discover your independent website all on their own. They’ll only find it through the work you put into promotion. But the reader that cares enough to come to your home site is a special type of reader.

So how do you get readers to visit an independent webcomic site?

Find your allies

These are people who work in similar areas as you who want to help you succeed, and whom you want to help succeed. Chat with each other, help each other, promote each other, boost each other, link to each other (psst, my links page just went live!), be there for each other - behind the scenes and in public.

God, I am SO bad at approaching people, but this is important, and not just for comics.

Be part of a community

Really, this is an extension of the above point. It's easier to find your allies if you're part of a community.

I’m a member of the Cartoonist Cooperative, and they’re a GREAT group of talented people all across the comics industry. The mission of @cartoonistcoop is to help create better conditions for comic workers through cooperation and collective action, and I’ve found so much help from them with Into the Smoke and comics as a whole. (JOIN! They're great!!)

The goal of the co-op isn't to drive traffic to your website. But being part of it has helped me at every level of crafting my comic, including promoting it and making it good enough that I can take pride in promoting it. And it's helped me ground myself as part of a community after I lost so much of mine in past years of burnout and platform enshittification.

Another option: @spiderforestcomics is a great webcomic collective full of supportive creators, and I believe they’re open to submissions till the end of June! They also have an awesome collaborative community mindset, and I've known some of their members for years.

Direct readers to your RSS feed and newsletter

Getting readers to your website is great, but they need to keep coming back for future updates, and it’s hard to remind them without an app notification. You may need to teach younger readers what RSS feeds are. Inoreader is a great RSS reader for the 2024 era.

The dreaded SEO

That’s Search Engine Optimization - optimizing your website so that people can easily find your comic via search engines. That’s a topic for another day, but feel free to research it!

Paid promo

This can be tricky, and I really only recommend spending promo money if you’re making a comic on a professional basis, because then it’s an investment you'll make back.

That said, Comicad.net is a great independent site where you can buy banner slots on other creators’ sites. I just ran small campaign myself. (And no, I won’t ever be offended if you outbid me!)

I haven’t bought any Tumblr Blaze slots, but I got BOPPed (blaze other people’s posts; apparently that’s what it’s called, lol) once on this account and once on a side blog, and both were highly impactful. (Thanks, friend!!) So I consider it a solid option, and it looks really cheap compared to other social media sites. (Never trust Meta.)

And where can you learn more about building a webcomic site?

I know you didn't ask, but if I'm gonna share all this, I might as well give folks a starting place to actually do the thing.

Now, I’m *bad* at offering cheap and easy web solutions. My specialty is hard and expensive. But my one piece of advice: PLEASE make your webcomic site mobile friendly for the current generation of readers! When we talk about barriers to entry, remember that more people have phones than computers, and many can't afford computers.

Anyway, here's some webcomic website resources from OTHER people!

The Cartoonist Co-op has LOTS of great resources on building webcomic sites! Several of them! Check them all out!

@screentonescast has a podcast episode on webcomic web design and one on RSS feeds!

@jeypawlik also has a great comic about how RSS feeds work.

So, congrats if you made it this far. Go make a website, y'all! And if you read any indie comics, go visit the creator's website!

#replies #asks #webcomic #webcomics #webcomic websites #comic resources #webcomic resources #long post #web design

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queer-ragnelle · 2 months ago

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Best of Arthurian Queens

Seeking recommendations for media featuring the Queens of Arthuriana?

Here’s a curated collection of Retellings, Films, TV shows, and more ordered alphabetically by Queen and oldest to newest. Each recommendation comes with a brief synopsis and review containing mild spoilers.

All PDFs link to my Google drive, videos to MEGA drive, and can be found on my blog. Each passage adopts the unique spelling of character names as used in the media.

♥ More Best of Masterposts ♥

Guinevere of Camelot

Books

The Defence of Guenevere by William Morris

In this famous poem, Guenevere gets to say her piece before the court and call out by name the individuals that wronged her.

The Story of King Arthur and His Knights by Howard Pyle

The Story of The Champions of the Round Table by Howard Pyle

The Story of Sir Launcelot and His Companions by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Grail and The Passing of Arthur by Howard Pyle

Queen Guinevere is regal, powerful, respected, & beloved in this series. The art featuring her is stunning.

Kairo-Kō: A Dirge by Natsume Sōseki

Japanese retelling with poetic prose that really sells the heart wrenching tragedy of Guinevere’s affair with Lancelot & the weight of her serpent crown.

Launcelot & Guenevere by Richard Hovey

A series of plays which showcase Guenevere’s marriage to Arthur & love affair with Launcelot facilitated by Galehaut. Numerous heart wrenching lines.

Guinevere by Sharan Newman

The Chessboard Queen by Sharan Newman

Guinevere Evermore by Sharan Newman

Follows Guinevere for her whole childhood, fleshes out her family, handmaidens, & friends, romantic first meeting with Arthur, magical unicorn, great chemistry with Lancelot, raised Galahad like her own son. One of my favorite portrayals of her ever.

A Camelot Triptych by Norris J. Lacy

A fascinating examination of misogyny’s part in Guinevere’s treatment concerning the Vulgate storyline. Guinevere gets the second of three chapters, but she’s integral to the entire collection. Her portion in the cold, lonely nunnery is heart wrenching & it really sympathizes with her situation to show her humanity & the forces acting against her.

The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman

A post-Camlann story. While first shown to be living unhappily at the nunnery, Guinevere later reappears as a participant of the Wild Hunt, & gets her own flashback chapter near the end. She’s an integral part of the plot resolution.

Movies

Knights of the Round Table (1953)

Elegant & queenly Guinevere with gorgeous styling & costumes. Childhood friend of Arthur. Gives her favor to Lancelot in exchange for a quaint necklace made from a coin she takes everywhere. Merlin is respectful & kind to Guinevere & has her best interest at heart, never talks about her behind her back to Arthur. Guinevere & Elaine on great terms, Guinevere gets to temporarily foster Galahad after Elaine’s death, & in the end, Arthur never entertained the idea of punishing Guinevere with death for anything.

Sword of Lancelot (1963)

Passion project of Cornel Wilde, who wrote, directed, & stared as Lancelot in the film. Cast his own wife Jean Wallace, to play Guinevere—the chemistry is fire. Many knights of the Round Table that adore Guinevere, including Dagonet who temporarily goes mad/missing after Guinevere’s sentencing to the stake. Well-meaning Arthur who nonetheless fails to uphold Guinevere’s agency & belittles her less than lady-like skillset including hunting, & ultimately loses her to Lancelot for that reason.

Camelot (1967)

Iconic Guinevere. Ride or die with “Wart” before she even knew he was her betrothed, Arthur. She shares in all his dreams & ideas, as a viewer you can feel how valued she is. Cherished by her champion knights, Dinadan, Sagramore, & Lionel. She wasn’t keen on Lancelot at first but obviously falls in love with him as much as Arthur did. Gorgeous costuming & many beautiful songs with her ladies & knights.

Excalibur (1981)

Sweet healer Guinevere who gets along with everyone including Morgan, has a seat at the Round Table, great chemistry with Arthur & Lancelot, beautiful costuming, talented acting.

Merlin and The Sword (1985)

Stunning Guinevere with an alluring deep voice. Awesome chemistry with all characters. Adored by Arthur who is animated & energetic but doesn’t quite “get” her & beloved by Lancelot who stares silently at her & throws himself into danger left & right for her. Pretty dresses & crowns throughout & her dilemma between the two men is especially tough here, which she’s able to explain in her own words which is a rarity.

Camelot: The Legend (1998)

Animated kid’s movie in which Guinevere is entirely devoted to Arthur & has her own interests & goals including gardening at Camelot. She’s taught how to sword fight by Lancelot which comes in handy later when escaping Morgan & Mordred.

Arthur & Merlin: Knights of Camelot (2020)

Powerful Guinevere in a story inspired by Alliterative Morte which leaves her stranded at Camelot with Mordred while Arthur & Lancelot fight in Rome. She refuses to accept Mordred as king & rebuffs his advances, intimidating him with her cold & direct rejections. She also banters with Antigone, Mordred’s accomplice, while remaining regal & poised.

TV Shows

The Adventures of Sir Lancelot (1956-57)

Guinevere appears in 11 episodes, has a seat at the Round Table, politically involved & valued by all. Confident & poised. Friends with Gawain, Kay, & Lionel. Great chemistry with Arthur & Lancelot. Matching costumes with Arthur. Socially progressive for the time, including an episode without Arthur in which Guinevere runs a market fair to trade with people from the East.

BBC The Legend of King Arthur (1979)

Young innocent Guinevere with a seat at the Round Table, loves Arthur as king but best friends with Lancelot. Framed for killing a knight with poisoned fruit & championed by Lancelot. Beloved by the knights but victim to Morgan, Agravain, & Mordred.

Starz Camelot (2011)

Guinevere in episodes 3-10, engaged to childhood friend Leontes but loves Arthur. Friends with Igraine & Bridget. Her opinion is valued by all, involved in the resolution of several episode plots & overall organization of newly formed Camelot. Advocates for the other women. Helps defend the castle from invaders.

Games

Camelot Crush: A Round Table Dating Sim

Guinevere is one of six characters the player can romance. Adorable art & fun, exciting storyline. Guinevere is lovingly rendered & has a sweet, loving relationship with both Arthur & Lancelot, & potentially the player!

Herzeloyde of Wales

Books

The Story of Sir Launcelot and His Companions by Howard Pyle

The Prioress, as she's called, isn't here for very long. Yet it's very sweet that on crossing paths with Percival, Lamorack was on his way to visit their mother at the priory. So they go together to visit her, receive her blessing, & talk with her into the night. She survives the narrative!

Parsival - A Knight's Tale by Richard Monaco

This book has her pov, however briefly. It's very haunting to get her perspective on Parsival as he becomes increasingly violent with age & returns to her bloody from the hunt. Overall the book takes a disturbing turn I don't fully recommend it but the beginning is fascinating.

Spear by Nicola Griffith

This version draws on Welsh & Celtic mythology in which Elen has withdrawn from society with her daughter, Peretur, to avoid the wrath of the Tuath Dé after stealing the magic cauldron. It’s revealed later that Elen is the sister of Myrddin & he’s sustained despite Nimuë’s spells as a result of that connection.

Movies

Perceval (1978)

A French adaptation of The Story of the Grail by Chrétien de Troyes set on a stage. Perceval’s mother follows her exact role from the book, cautioning her son about the world, & dying of heartbreak on his departure. She returns at the end as Mother Mary to compliment Perceval as Jesus Christ at the crucifixion. Costuming is colorful & detailed. Bonus points for removal of racism & antisemitism from the text.

TV Shows

Rising Impact (2024)

A cheesy sports anime that stars Gawain—but in season 2, Percival is introduced & both of her parents make an appearance when Gawain comes over for dinner.

Games

Granblue Fantasy

Herzeloyde is the wife of Gahmuret & mother of Aglovale, Lamorak, & Percival. After her death, Gahmuret became obsessed with resurrecting her, which he then passed to Aglovale on his own death.

Igraine of Cornwall

Books

The Crystal Cave by Mary Stewart

The Hollow Hills by Mary Stewart

The Last Enchantment by Mary Stewart

An interesting take on Ygraine who is married to an older Gorlois but actually consents to the affair with Uther facilitated by Merlin. Very noble & wise, she remains regal throughout her later life & maintains a relationship with Arthur.

Morgan Is My Name by Sophie Keetch

Igraine in love with Gorlois & empowering to their daughters is always an amazing interpretation. She’s a pious woman doing her best by them despite all the forces of the patriarchy working against her.

Movies

Excalibur (1981)

Igraine is introduced during a celebratory party at Tintagel hosted by Gorlois where she dances for the visiting knights. There Uther desires her & conspires with Merlin to have her. She already has her daughter Morgana with her when Arthur is sired & born. The last we see her, she’s screaming for Merlin to return baby Arthur to no avail.

TV Shows

BBC The Legend of King Arthur (1979)

Loving Igraine & Gorlois are torn apart immediately when Uther takes a liking to her & demands Gorlois hand her over. When Gorlois refuses, he’s slain, & Igraine is chastised by young Morgan for “giving up so easily.” This Igraine has the saddest expression I’ve ever seen she sells the tragedy. After Arthur is taken by Merlin, Morgan is sent to live in a nunnery while Igraine flees to Orkney to live with her elder daughter Morgause, son-in-law Lot, & grandsons.

Merlin (1998)

Igraine is introduced with husband Gorlois & daughter Morgan after Uther defeated Vortigern. She wears beautiful matching red garments with her family & plainly loves her spouse & child. She’s heartbroken when Gorlois leaves her to fight Uther & freaked out when he “returns” after the battle to sire Arthur on her. Truly a victim of a tragic narrative.

Starz Camelot (2011)

This is the Igraine of all time. She’s in 9/10 episodes! A complex character that really highlights the struggles a woman goes through in her time caught between powerful men. Her approach is criticized by Morgan, her step-daughter, who berates her “weakness” in “allowing” Uther to kill her husband & take her to wife. Igraine tries to counsel Guinevere in her worries over marrying Leontes despite loving Arthur, befriends Ector after the death of his wife & the foster-mother of Arthur, & she does all she can to help Camelot succeed. Beautiful costuming & styling with intricate crowns & circlets to indicate her status as dowager queen. The acting is incredible especially during the magical body transformation that results in scenes portraying Eva Green’s Morgan pretending to be Claire Forlani’s Igraine. She ate. Phenomenal.

Comics

King Arthur: Legends of Logres by shoulderangel

Ongoing webcomic with a major focus on Igraine. She harbors a lot of anger toward Uther & trauma surrounding the ordeal which carried over to the relationship with Arthur. She slowly heals over the course of the story & rebuilds her connection with her son.

Isolde of Ireland

Books

The Story of the Champions of the Round Table by Howard Pyle

Belle Isoult is lovingly portrayed here & beloved by both Tristram & Palamydes. She's a skilled healer & raised by her bold mother to be an independent thinker. I love that she has black hair, it stands out compared to her other portrayals!

Restoring Palamede by John Erskine

Such an interesting & nuanced Isolde. She does switch places with Brangaine to avoid a wedding night with Mark but it feels less insidious here. Isolde’s relationship caught between Tristan/Palamede/Mark doesn’t feel misogynistic or as if she’s a plot device. Feels like a person who’s in an unhappy marriage, in love with Tristan, & great friends with Palamede. I especially liked that she was allowed to feel vulnerable, even depressive, & that Palamede was concerned enough to forego ceremony to make sure she wasn’t hurt. It’s a testament to their friendship.

The Ballad of Sir Dinadan by Gerald Morris

Not a particularly kind portrayal of Isolde considering it’s Dinadan point of view, but I still felt her love affair with Tristram was engaging & the ending did get to me even if the reader knew it would end badly. For some reason her manner of death shocked me. It was different & that stands out. It truly felt tragic.

The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman

Isolde the Blond only shows up in Palomides flashbacks, but his first encounter with her blew me away. Loved her description of having a slight overbite, we love normal teeth in historical fiction. But what really stands out is after Palomides slaughters a bunch of would-be rapists, Isolde is alone among the ladies undisturbed by the gore & cleans Palomide’s blade before handing it back to him. I understood in that moment. It would work on me too.

Movies

Lovespell (1981)

Isolt is introduced while hawking & gives some guy sass for trying to tell her what to do. Turns out that was Mark visiting Ireland & they hit it off despite the age gap. Later Tristan comes to pick up Isolt but he’s played by Nicholas Clay so obviously she falls in love with him. Bronwyn is a creepy sorceress hag who gives a love potion to Isolt to use with Mark but she uses it with Tristan.

Fire and Sword (1981)

Truly the most unhinged Isolde ever. The closest to her medieval counterpart I’ve encountered. The only person Isolde loves more than Tristan is Isolde. She’s also magical & sort of manipulates the story with that.

Tristan & Isolde (2006)

Adorable Isolde who lost her mother young & hangs out with older matron in waiting Bragnae. Rescues Tristan off the beach like a rotting fish & strips naked to hold him for warmth. So she has some of that unhinged energy. Tristan kills Morholt & accidentally wins Isolde for Mark but since Mark is played by Rufus Sewell, & he’s essentially Arthur here, he’s too good. A legit love triangle without the excuse of a love potion to fall back on. Sucks to be them!

TV Shows

The Adventures of Sir Lancelot (1956-57)

In episode 5, Mark captures Lancelot. Isolde is vocally opposed to her husband’s methods & when tending Lancelot’s injuries in his jail cell, slips him a knife. At the end she is granted leave of her husband, & goes with Tristan to her new castle.

Morgan le Fay of Rheged

Books

The Story of King Arthur and His Knights by Howard Pyle

The Story of The Champions of the Round Table by Howard Pyle

The Story of Launcelot and His Companions by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Grail and The Passing of Arthur by Howard Pyle

Morgana is the mischievous sister of Arthur, wife of Urien, & mother of Ewaine. She steals Arthur’s scabbard & returns it to the Lady of the Lake. She’s one of four queens who imprisons Launcelot & attempts to lay a spell on him to spite Arthur. At the end, she bears Arthur away on a ship to Avalon. The artwork throughout is beautiful. While antagonistic, she gets silly with it, threatening to curse the land with an evil worm after a magical ring doesn’t fit her finger. Despite her misdeeds, Ewaine always associates himself with his mother.

The Acts of King Arthur and His Noble Knights by John Steinbeck

The best Morgan with her own chapter! She’s cunning, ruthless, diabolical, & kind of silly when she disguises herself as a rock. It’s hilarious how blind Arthur is to her attempts on his life & blasé attitude about punishing her. Morgan tries to kill her husband, gaslights her son Ewain into believing he didn’t see what he saw, then still asks Guinevere’s permission to leave court. Goofy poltics. Later in Ewain’s chapter, he describes his mother most lovingly. It’s a compelling way to paint Morgan as a multi-dimensional character even when she’s off page.

Idylls of the Queen by Phyllis Ann Karr

Morgan helps Kay & Mordred in their investigation to track down the culprit who framed Guinevere for murder. She’s friends with Nimuë, who helps facilitate the meeting. Morgan’s an interesting mix of Christian & mystic, using magic to temporarily rewind time & show the knights events that took place the night of the murder. She’s manic & clever, I loved every word of her on the page.

Morgan Is My Name by Sophie Keetch

Le Fay by Sophie Keetch

This series is yet incomplete with a third book to come, but the first two are solid. Opens with Morgan’s birth & follows through all the events of her life from losing her parents Igraine & Gorlois to Uther, both her sisters Morgause & Elaine to their husbands Lot & Nentres, & eventually her own freedom when she’s sent to a nunnery. By book 2 she’s married to Urien & has her son, Yvain, who she adores & attempts to do right by. But her bitterness toward Arthur & Urien poisons the relationship. A compelling Morgan with anger issues & a kind of stale but sweet romance with Accolon that ends in tragedy.

The Bright Sword by Lev Grossman

Complicated Morgan who got to speak her mind explaining where her complicated bitterness toward Arthur came from. She lives in the Otherworld with the fairies & Green Knight. She’s keeping Arthur sort of alive after Camlann in Avalon & participates in the Wild Hunt. She has an amazing end game situationship with Palomides. Biggest gripe was Collum pilfered her son’s backstory with the lion but oh well.

Movies

Knights of the Round Table (1953)

Morgan is the wedlock daughter of Uther, sister of Arthur, who believes her claim to the throne is stronger & wants Mordred to be king. She’s the ringleader for all of Mordred & Agravaine’s plans, coaches them on all they should do, & stirs the pot on her own whenever possible, purposefully putting Guinevere into awkward positions. The costuming is amazing, all her veils & dresses are beautiful. She’s so catty here & her rivalry with Merlin is funny.

Excalibur (1981)

Iconic Morgana. Starts with her as a child who witnesses Uther in the guise of her father come to her mother & knows him for who he is. It’s said multiple times she watches with her father Gorlois’s eyes, through her, he haunts the narrative. She learns magic from Merlin & eventually uses that to seal him away & beguile Arthur into siring Mordred. She then raises Mordred all while tormenting the grail knights. Stunning costumes, veils & crowns, even armored bodice looks. Sexiest Morgana ever.

Merlin and The Sword (1985)

Funky redhead Morgan with the most perfect evil laugh. Her black feathered costume hints at her ability to turn into a crow. Auntie Morgan, as she’s called, coaches her nephew Mordred on how to work his way closer to his father Arthur while he & Agravain antagonize Lancelot & Guinevere. She conspires with some Pict warriors to have Guinevere kidnapped. She holds Ninian’s father hostage to get her to turn against Merlin. She’s a powerful sorceress with many abilities including potion making & summoning a dragon.

TV Shows

The Adventures of Sir Galahad (1949)

Morgan is a magic user who aids Galahad on his quest to recover Excalibur. She helps him avoid Merlin’s machinations & breaks him out of prison with the use of quirky spells.

The Adventures of Sir Lancelot (1956-57)

Returning after many years of banishment by her brother Arthur, Morgan appears in episode 26 with her son, Rupert. She hopes that helping him cheat will guarantee him a seat at the Round Table & secure her return to court.

BBC The Legend of King Arthur (1979)

First episode opens with Morgan & her parents, Igraine & Gorlois, as Uther makes his untoward intentions known. Morgan loves her parents & never forgives Uther for killing her father & taking her mother. She learns magic from Merlin & kills Uther, after which she’s sent to a nunnery while her mother goes to live with Morgause in Orkney. She returns later as an inconspicuous nun Arthur never suspects of treachery & holds a seat at the Round Table after the death of Merlin. She teams up with Accolon to steal Excalibur’s scabbard & coaches her nephews Agravain & Mordred to stir trouble at court. Understated acting with subtle but intense emotion behind it.

Merlin (1998)

Morgan is introduced alongside her parents, Igraine & Gorlois, when they come to pay homage to Uther. She’s got a cute speech impediment she maintains into adulthood & has a heartbreaking Hector/Astyanax moment while wearing Gorlois’s helmet before he heads out to die against Uther. She formulates a long term relationship with the fairy Frik & eventually gets pregnant with Mordred by Arthur in an attempt to take the throne. She’s played by Helena Bonham Carter who ate the role up & looked like a stunning mall goth the whole time.

Starz Camelot (2011)

My favorite Morgan in anything ever. Immediately murders Uther. She’s ruthless & determined, evil & sly & clever while also continuously screwing up & having to recalibrate all her plans to undermine Arthur’s rule. Stunning costuming, styling of hair & jewelry. Eva Green’s acting is insane here. Morgan’s magic weighs on her like a curse, the generational trauma is palpable, & she maintains complex relationships with all the women in the story including Vivian, Sybil, Igraine, & Guinevere. She forms a temporary alliance with Lot that was very sexy.

Games

Camelot Crush: A Round Table Dating Sim

Morgan is an NPC character the player can encounter in game. Adorable art & fun dialogue!

Morgause of Orkney

Books

The Story of Sir Launcelot and His Companions by Howard Pyle

Margaise is minimal, but she & her husband Lot loves spoil Gareth rotten. Margaise brings Gareth to her bower where she tells him it's time he went to her brother's kingdom to join the Round Table with his brothers who "shine forth like bright planets in the midst of a galaxy of stars." She loves her children dearly.

The Marriage of Guenevere by Richard Hovey

Morgause is so sneaky here insinuating herself into Guenevere’s confidence to try & break apart her marriage with Arthur before it even begins. She tricks Ladinas, a knight of the Round Table, to do her bidding, dragging Guenevere’s brother Peredure along with them. Gawaine is only sixteen here & not yet fully assuming a position he can combat this. OC collateral damage be damned I support women’s wrongs.

Holy Isle by James Bridie

This play has an incredible Margause that rules the roost in Orkney. She’s “a tall, sinisterly beautiful woman” with no fear or uncertainty. Everyone except wifeguy Lot is afraid of her & she takes full advantage. Margause can read & Lot cannot so she directs him on how to handle matters of state. She ends up stowing away in a ship to a new island to insinuate herself into the goings on there. She’s dubbed “Queen” by the locals in lieu of her name.

The Book of Mordred by Peter Hanratty

Witch Morgause meets a tragic end rather quickly, but she loves Mordred & bends over backwards to protect him from her fate.

The Road to Avalon by Joan Wolf

Morgause plays a small part compared to her sister Morgan, but Morgause raises her nephew Mordred as her own to keep him hidden from Arthur. She’s kind & considerate. After Lot dies, she marries Pellinore, who helps raise her children. After Pellinore dies, she marries Lamorak. She survives the narrative! Gaheris, who had been helping his mother run the estate, arrives at the final battle to secure the victory.

Morgan Is My Name by Sophie Keetch

Le Fay by Sophie Keetch

This series focuses on Morgause’s little sister, Morgan, but they have an interesting dynamic that Morgause teases Morgan by calling her “Morgana” to annoy her which inspired the series name. Morgause happily married young handsome Lot to become a queen which was refreshing. She also stepped up when Morgan needed protecting/explanation about Uther’s behavior toward their mother. Overall a rare positive portrayal.

Movies

Camelot (1998)

Morgause is one of the ladies of the lake whom Arthur meets during his childhood growing up in Avalon. She teaches him to dance & they fall in love & marry. It’s not indicated whether they are siblings at all, but it seems they aren’t. She’s the mother of Mordred who later comes to Camelot after Arthur had left to marry Guinevere.

Excalibur Kid (1999)

A plan hatched by Morgause results in Zack pulling the sword from the stone before Arthur can. She is ultimately fouled when Zack realizes the plot & foils her plans. Her costuming is cute & the actress is a pretty redhead with a sassy interpretation of the character.

TV Shows

BBC Merlin (2008-12)

Morgause is introduced in season 2 when she enters a tournament in full armored disguise. She summons Igraine’s ghost to explain to Arthur the true circumstances of her death & Uther’s culpability. Arthur doesn’t take this to heart & ultimately drives Morgause (& Morgana) to oppose him before the end.

Games

Granblue Fantasy

Morgause is the widow of Lot & mother of Gawain & Florence. She’s a powerful sorceress who developed a magical defense spell & took on trainees Florence & Lamorak.

#arthurian legend #arthurian mythology #arthuriana #arthurian literature #queen guinevere #queen igraine #queen isolde #queen herzeloyde #morgan le fay #queen morgause #knights of the round table #howard pyle #camelot #best of masterpost #my post

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tired-xyra-urstruly · 7 months ago

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𓆩⟡𓆪𝙰𝚛𝚎 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝙲𝚑𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚘𝚗 𝚖𝚎!?𓆩⟡𓆪

Yan!Reader x Yan!Dazai

One-Shot Fiction

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────✧₊∘∘₊✧──────

Summary: You had a dream he was cheating on you! But was it true?

Dazai, he is a former port mafia executive. Dazai, he is a current armed detective agency member. Dazai who hates pain, hates dogs, and especially hates his former partner in the mafia, Chuuya Nakahara. Dazai, who likes crabs, likes the idea of suicide, and likes alcohol. Dazai who was your boyfriend. Yours only. He was the only thing on your mind. Every single corner, every single thought, anything, would be connected to him someway and somehow.

✧. ┊Want to continue?

Ever since the day you both first met, you knew he was the one for you. You wanted him. No. You NEEDED him. So, you started collecting his belongings, it started with a document he just tossed away, then strands of his hair, chewed gum, and anything else you could get your hands on. You hid a wiretap on his clothes once, he found it cute and amusing because he hid a wiretap on you too. Did you know he hid one on you? No.

It's currently 10 in the evening, stars sparkled outside in the ink dark sky. You, as per usual, are on your bed chatting with your boyfriend through *insert any social media app*. It got your heart pounding faster and faster whenever he replied within seconds to your message. Notification after notification, you couldn't get your eyes off the screen. On the other side of the screen was Dazai, watching you through a camera he hid in your house. Pictures of you were plastered all over his room walls, and aside from that. Mostly nothing else could be found.

Your eyelids started to get heavy, you couldn't fight the feeling of drowsiness coming over you. Before you could pass out you decided to send one last message to Dazai. "I love you, Dazai. I love you so much that I want stab any woman who would try to talk to you." How endearing, this is why he loved you.

"I love you so much that I want to destroy any man who lays eyes on you." Was the last thing you read before dozing off.

"Impossible! I was taking pictures of you through your window!!!" He passed you his phone which was generosly unlocked for you. Quickly, you found the contacts app. You were the only one in his contacts. Good. That means he prioritized you over work. Next, you opened his gallery. It was you. You were the only thing in his gallery, and he wasn't lying. You scrolled through the pictures of you that he took through your window last night with a look of satisfaction. "That's actually... So sweet!!" You hugged him tightly clasping your arms around him full of affection and he did the same too. The other members of the Agency, who have been watching the whole thing were... Weirded out to say the least...

The doors of the Armed Detective Agency slammed to reveal a very furious and irritated figure, which was you. The Agency wasn't really surprised to see that you were the one at the door, you always did just to see Dazai. Your grip tightened around the knife in your hand as you advanced towards Dazais table. You drove the sharp object into the wood of the table forcibly which gained his attention. Dazai glances at the knife and then at you. "Oh, hey [Name]... What's wrong?" He asks.

"... I had a dream where you were cheating on me. Explain." You looked him dead in the eye.

"Whaaatttt?"

"Explain." You repeated. How could he? Especially in your dreams.

END

#bsd dazai #bsd #bsd anime #bsd fanfic #bungou stray dogs #dazai osamu #dazai x reader #bungou stray dogs dazai #yandere dazai #yandere reader #reader x character #dazai fanfic #writers on tumblr #writing #fanfic

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angelbaby191 · 17 days ago

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More than Headlines

Kirishima x Bakugo x GN! Reader

The studio lights were a little harsh, and the set—polished and brightly colored—felt strangely out of place for what was supposed to be a serious interview. But you had Eijiro on one side, his warmth a steady anchor, and Katsuki on the other, his usual grumbling and intensity tempered by a quiet loyalty. You’d been married almost a year now, and while the public eye never quite left the three of you, you were used to it by now.

This interview, though, had a different weight to it. It was one of the first times you’d all appeared together in an exclusive, high-profile sit-down, and even Katsuki had reluctantly agreed to take part. They’d framed it as a chance to highlight your agency’s work and address the skepticism about your unique marriage, but deep down, you suspected the headline would have more to do with your relationship than your hero work.

As the reporter started, Eijiro leaned forward, his grip around your shoulders firm and reassuring. The first questions were harmless enough.

“So, mr Red Riot,” the reporter began with a gleam in his eye, focusing on Eijiro. “You've been with the Hero Association since graduation. Tell us—what made you want to start your own agency?”

Eijiro's smile was bright and genuine, the way it always was when he talked about his dreams. "Well, it wasn't just me. It was all of us," he said, gesturing to you and Katsuki. "The three of us have been working together since U.A., through training, through missions. We’re a team, and eventually, we wanted to have a place where we could work the way we wanted—focusing on the missions and the people who need us most, not just on what makes the best headlines."

The reporter nodded, his smile looking more like a smirk as he leaned forward with an intrigued glint in his eyes. “You make it sound so easy,” he pressed, feigning curiosity. “But starting an agency isn’t a small feat, especially for three high-profile heroes. How did you make it all work?”

“Yeah, well, we worked our asses off,” Katsuki interjected before you could answer. He crossed his arms, his glare practically daring the reporter to say something snarky. “We knew what we wanted, and we got it done. You think we’d be sitting here today if we didn’t know what we were doing?”

Eijiro shot Katsuki a soft, playful elbow to the ribs, chuckling. “Kat’s right. We’re stubborn when it comes to our goals, and we knew we could create something better together than what was out there.”

The reporter’s smile twitched, clearly hoping for a softer, more marketable story, but he quickly moved on. “Right,” he said, his tone still a bit dismissive. “But let's talk about that legendary War during your first year. A lot of people look back at U.A. and talk about that as a moment that changed you three and many others. How do you feel about it now?”

There was a collective pause as memories of that time resurfaced. Eijiro’s usually cheerful expression dimmed as he looked at the floor briefly, his brow furrowing. “It changed all of us,” he admitted, voice quieter. “We were kids, thrown into a war we weren’t prepared for, but we made it through because of each other. We lost people. Friends. But we didn’t let that stop us. If anything, it made us stronger.”

You placed a comforting hand on his arm, grounding him. “That time taught us what it means to fight for something bigger than ourselves. And it taught us how important it is to have people by your side.”

The reporter nodded, looking a bit thrown off by the honesty in your words. Shifting slightly, he tried another angle. “Your quirks work well together. I know that Kirishima's Unbreakable Quirk is legendary, paired with Bakugo's explosions and—well, your unique abilities. How do you make them work together so fluidly?”

Katsuki scoffed, a half-smirk forming on his lips. “We’ve been doing this for years. You think we don’t know how to back each other up by now?”

Eijiro grinned, his earlier sadness dissipating. “Yeah, we each know our roles in a fight and where our strengths lie. Kat’s explosions keep the offense up, I’m the shield, and you—” He turned to you, his smile softening, eyes warm. “You tie it all together. Your quirk makes us stronger, gives us the edge to push through anything.”

You returned his smile, feeling the familiar surge of pride that always came when you fought alongside them. “We’ve always had each other’s backs. We’re a team; it’s what makes us effective.”

The reporter tapped his notepad, as if searching for a new angle to throw at you. His voice lowered, taking on a more personal tone. “And what about when the teamwork ends for the day? Surely being together in the field, then going home together, must make things… complicated.”

Your smile didn’t waver, but you felt Eijiro tense slightly beside you, and Katsuki’s expression grew darker. He wasn’t one to entertain personal questions, but his eyes flicked to you, letting you handle it.

“Not at all,” you replied evenly. “It actually makes things easier. We know each other better than anyone. Being able to go home to people who understand you on that level… it’s a blessing, not a complication.”

“Interesting.” The reporter’s tone held a note of skepticism, and he angled his body toward you. “You must get a lot of questions about your marriage, though. After all, it’s not every day we see a poly arrangement in the hero world.”

Eijiro chuckled lightly, trying to ease the tension that had started to creep in. “Well, it’s not the ‘normal’ relationship, I guess, but it’s ours. We didn’t set out to make any kind of statement—we’re just happy together.”

The reporter’s eyebrows rose, his smirk widening as he leaned in a little closer. “Happy, yes, but a question many have is how exactly it works. I mean, three heroes… I imagine things must get interesting behind closed doors, if you know what I mean.”

The moment he said it, you felt the heat spike in the room. Katsuki sat up straighter, his jaw locked, hands balling into fists. His voice was low, simmering with suppressed rage. “The hell did you just ask us?”

The reporter flinched slightly, clearly taken aback by the intensity of Katsuki’s reaction, but his gaze turned to you as if daring you to answer. Eijiro’s hand tightened protectively on your shoulder, his usually warm expression hardening into one of warning and uncomfort.

But instead of letting either of them take the lead, you raised a hand, gently nudging Eijiro to let you handle it. Katsuki’s eyes met yours, and though still fuming, he held his tongue, trusting you to speak.

With a calm, collected expression, you leaned forward, meeting the reporter’s gaze directly. “In a world where we're risking our lives every day to protect others, where we face danger daily to keep people safe, you’d think people would care more about our hero work than our personal lives.”

The reporter blinked, clearly not expecting such a controlled but cutting response. Your voice was steady, but there was a hard edge to it, an undeniable authority.

“Our marriage is built on mutual respect, trust, and love. It’s not ‘interesting’ or some novelty—it’s our life. And we don’t need to explain the details to anyone who can’t see beyond a headline,” you continued, your tone unwavering. “If that’s all you’re focused on, then that’s a reflection on you, not us.”

Eijiro’s hand slipped down to clasp yours, giving a firm, supportive squeeze. His pride in you was clear, and Katsuki gave a sharp, approving nod. “Yeah,” he said, voice laced with a mixture of admiration and impatience. “What they said. Got any actual questions, or are you just here to pry into stuff that’s none of your damn business?”

The silence was thick and heavy, and the reporter shifted, suddenly uncomfortable. He cleared his throat, mumbling some half-hearted apology as he hurriedly tried to wrap up, looking visibly thrown by your strength.

When the interview finally ended, and the lights dimmed, Eijiro pulled you into a warm hug, laughing softly. “Babe, that was amazing! You totally handled that jerk.”

Katsuki’s scowl softened as he ruffled your hair, a rare smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You shut him up better than any explosion could. Proud of you.”

You leaned into their warmth, feeling the familiar sense of security that only they could bring. “Guess we’re stronger together, huh?”

Eijiro grinned, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “Always.”

#bakugou katsuki #mha x you #mha x y/n #mha x reader #eijirou kirishima x reader #kiribaku x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #eijirou kirishima #bakugo katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki

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whalesforhands · 30 days ago

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what’s yours is mine (11/?)

previous masterlist next

pairing: geto suguru x reader x gojo satoru

You don’t know a lot of things, and you readily admit that. What you do know, is that the friends you’ve made aren’t something you will ever regret. Until your physical body weakens and becomes nothing, you’re more than happy to give your all until you wither away.

What’s yours can be theirs, too. They’re your friends, after-all. (Omegaverse AU)

“Ya sure y’er an Omega?” He’s sniffing at your neck, his nose directly against where the ‘scent glands’ are meant to be as you spread your arms out, chin tilted up and slumping your shoulder a little more to give him better access. “Maybe the paper’s wrong, cause,”

Another deep inhale.

“You don’t smell like anything.” You hear several more, purposefully loud breaths in, maybe a nudge of your arm and Gojo Satoru’s hand patting your shoulder before his head is lifted off and away.

“Then I guess Mama was right about the medicine working.” You perk up, satisfied with the result as you nod to yourself, proud hands on your hips as you stand before your friends.

(All 3 of them failed to smell anything. Well… Other than Shoko saying that you smelled like pretty laundry detergent.)

“If it’s working right, then Mama’s got nothing to worry about anymore!” Your cheers settle when you plop down next to a contemplating Suguru, opening your mouth and letting him feed you another cracker as you hum in delight.

“Then she’ll let me go and hang out with you all more often.”

Your Mama has been awfully protective for a while… No, you’re pretty sure she’s been extra protective ever since those test results were confirmed. So many trips to go see Dr. Homura, so many times they had to poke those needles into your arm, so many times you had to suck it up and drink yucky stuff in cups; before it switched over to swallowing pills.

(At least Dr. Homura isn’t stingy when it comes to treats. You’ve collected at least 4 different full-sized chocolate bars from her… And some smaller snacks from all the hospital staff who cooed at how cute you were.)

Alas, you don’t think you mind… Not all that much with the changes in your life, anyway. It must come with the responsibilities of being 12.

“Your neck needs to be covered.” Mama’s hands are gentle when she tugs your sweater up, fastening the button tightly and double checking that it was on securely as she readjusts it— For probably the nth time as you stood waiting by the front door for her to finish.

(It was in the middle of summer, but you’re willing to wear anything your Mama picks out for you.)

“…no. I can’t let you go swimming today.” Your eyes are downcast as your hopeful smile slowly fades, the brochure you were holding up in your hands slowly retracting alongside all your dreams of being able to cool down in this hot summer alongside your friends. You guess you won’t be able to check off the pool in Saya-chan’s ‘Ultimate Summer Planning!’ guide.

Mama’s touch is always soft. Delicate and always careful when she holds you close and hugs you tight late into the night. “You can’t tell anyone, okay?” Her eyes are serious as she holds your hand, only the whirring of the fan and the rustling of your soft futon heard alongside her quiet voice on this cool summer night.

“They don’t need to know.”

“Why’s your mama so worried anyway?” Shoko’s head is tilted to the side as she munches on another chip, a hand underneath cupping her chin as she stares at you, brown eyes lax and— Concentrated. “You have us around.”

“The dangers of being an Omega! Saya-san, have you ever experienced anything as scary as our viewer did?” The man— You don’t remember his name, but the funny glasses he wears, the slightly oversized suit he dons with that familiar label… That’s the new host of your favourite news talkshow, you’re pretty sure.

(And Saya-chan was as pretty as ever today.)

“My! It’s quite hard to say nowadays since my agency always provides me with plenty of bodyguards whenever I go outside.” She’s gentle when she laughs, demure with a hand over her mouth— The epitome of your perfect Saya-chan.

“Oh wow! What a protective bunch, eh?” He laughs too loudly, eyes crinkled too much and voice too rough for your liking. “Say, Saya-san, as one of the most sought after Omegas in the industry, do you think your fame was attributed solely because of your secondary gender?”

Hmph. What a rude man. You cross your arms and pout at the screen, clearly angry and glaring at the camera that had now panned towards his face. The last host was definitely more polite than he will ever be, and definitely 100 times better than he is, given the sudden quiet atmosphere.

“Ahaha, Yoshida-san…”

“I mean, come on! You’re a gorgeous woman Saya-san, and being an Omega on top of that! It’s almost like the system is working out a little too perfectly for you!”

You will never understand how some people can be so utterly, shamelessly rude.

“I think Mama’s just being cautious. She likes to prevent lots of stuff before something bad happens, you know?” Like how she spots dark clouds in the skies and rushes out to collect the laundry before even a speck of rain hits the ground, how she always warns you about your sugar intake— Before inevitably taking most of your sweets away before you get a cavity.

(Prevention is always better than cure. A hard lesson you finally understood when you got sick all those years back and missed out on one of the most important sport festivals ever.)

“Your mama’s right though,” Suguru pats your shoulder to make you turn your face, a cracker hovering near your mouth as you cheerfully; obediently part your lips to be fed another.

“It isn’t a bad thing to be too careful.”

——

“So? How much?” His foot is tapping against the ground, his lips humming dismissively as he writes a couple more ‘0’s at the back of the already too large number with his unsharpened pencil. “It’s still not a lot, but you usually give in by now cause ya get so stressed at the amount.”

It was just an accidental throwaway, something that left your head on a whim through the mishandling of the craft scissors.

“Ah.” It nicks you, an open cut right upon your finger as you stare on, not quite fully registering the pain as you watch beads of red coalesce. It stings slightly, makes you flinch back when you finally register that this was supposed to hurt— And that you should not be debating which ones of your funky bandaids would look nice on it.

You know this. It was like that scene in the drama that plays just before the daily nighttime reports, just like that one scene when the main character gets a ‘life threatening, disfiguring’ injury upon their beautiful face— They’d say their one line as tragic music plays and the director cuts to an angle that made the ‘loss’ of their still very apparent beauty all the more dramatic.

“Now nobody will ever marry me!”

(You always wanted to say that, really. So dramatic, so flamboyant…)

Just that you said it with a lot less emotion, no tears, a lot less actorly and as a quiet whisper underneath your breath and solely for your own amusement.

You didn’t think that anyone would actually hear your silly little scene.

“I’d marry you.” His eyes are already meeting yours, the shine in his azure gaze something so clear, so much so that you aren’t unfamiliar with what you’re looking at as face off against full-on seriousness and feel an undeniable, unshaken will.

And that honestly gave you more questions than why they don’t try to disfigure the pretty actors enough for them to actually look like they had something actually terrible to them. Mama was right about drama quality going down these days.

(So what’s a little challenge to your ever all-knowing Satoru?)

“What if I had acid burn off all my skin and I become a zombie?” Your arms cross and press against yourself just in case, hugging and patting against skin that you hoped would stay on for a long, long time. It sounds painful to even imagine losing it.

“I’d get someone to reverse curse technique your skin back on.” He huffs as if you were stupid, his cheeks puffed up momentarily and his eyes glaring, as if annoyed at your question.

(How dare you try to question him?)

“What if I lost both my eyes and can’t see?” It’s honestly a real fear of yours. You quite like your eyes— Quite like being able to sit and quietly admire your friends, your Mama, the people around you… Especially when they think you aren’t looking.

“Duh. Whaddya think my technique’s called Six Eyes for? I can see more than enough for the both of us, dummy.”

(Makes sense. Satoru really is smart.)

“What if I wanted a lot, a lot, a lot of money and it’s more than you can afford?” Because… Do rich people ever run out of money? Maybe you’ve just been watching too many news reports about million, billion, trillionaires losing their fortunes after being outed for fraud.

(Maybe you have been watching too much television. At least you learned that you should ‘freeze your assets’. If your freezer can even hold all your savings, anyway.)

One blink. Maybe two. You see him think about it momentarily, a hand on his chin contemplating your words… Before he grins again, his brows quirked up in amusement and his voice dripping with the ego that he had always possessed.

“I’d laugh cause y’er too smart to think that would actually ever happen.” He even ends haughtily, all smug grin and crossed arms, narrowed eyes and simply radiating confidence that nobody would dare to trump.

“But if it’s money ya want, how much? I can probably give ya enough to make you be my friend forever.”

(He’s Gojo Satoru, after all. Who exactly did you think you were talking to?)

“Don’t ever let anyone buy you over to marry you.” Suguru holds both of your hands in his— Or was it more accurate to say that he gripped them tight; squeezed them with an affirmation paired with a look so serious? Regardless of it, he was so gentle, so soft. Your Suguru is always so lovely. “You deserve more than that.”

(“And definitely more than that greedy vacuum.”)

“Hey! Don’t listen to the guy with Weird Bangs! He looks shady for a good reason!”

“Don’t listen to the ugly snowman with no morals!”

——

Ieiri Shoko thinks she enjoys her elementary school life, no matter how rundown, not at all high class, near peasant-level her school looked and felt. No matter how childish she thinks the sailor uniform was, no matter how this new school’s cafeteria’s food tasted.

It was almost pitiful, makes her think that she had picked the wrong choice, given that this was her second public school and it was all still so… Plain.

The teachers are average. Painfully average. Skills, materials, passion— It was all very lacking, always left her expecting more. Wasn’t it odd? Wasn’t it off? That someone of her caliber, that her, an Ieiri, was attending a public middle school?

She wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for how almost the entirety of high-society Jujutsu families whispering about how a Gojo chose to attend public school.

Muttering under their breaths about how it was preposterous, about how inappropriate for someone of their social standings to be delegated to some no-name brand of a school. A school that was painfully ordinary, at that.

Perhaps that was the pushing point. The fact that Gojo Satoru’s actions got under their skin, pricked at their painfully boring thoughts and pierced through their closed-off mentality that Ieiri Shoko decided… That it sounded fun.

And that was all, really. She’s lucky her parents don’t care too much, lucky that she could ask for whatever and get it placed into her open palm with just a single request. Especially when that request was to transfer to the same elementary school as her once-almost-fiancé, Gojo Satoru.

(Who would deny it? Perhaps her parents even thought that she finally had an interest in the snowy-haired prodigy.

Ha. Not even in a million years.)

Of course, the plan was to just have a little look-see and tour this unfortunate looking place that the spoiled Gojo kid found so interesting.

She didn’t expect to find that she actually enjoyed her time here, not when she was actively swatting off the pesky flies that tried to bother her short little respite here.

Here. As in, the back of the classroom where she could read all the manga she could to her liking— Because who wouldn’t like this breathing space away from stuck-up tutors and high-strung educators who were needlessly strict?

She wasn’t supposed to talk to anyone. Not that she wanted to anyway, but it makes her feel better to at least think like she was actually trying.

…so what exactly was she doing here with you, the one directly connected to the boy she just couldn’t stand?

“And this is the playground! Satoru doesn’t like strangers here, but you don’t count cause he already knows you.” You’re… Touching her. Holding her hand like it was nothing as you pointed at the most obvious playground equipment anybody would know the names of.

It’s stupid.

“I like to c’mere a lot to think by myself.” You hum, settled comfortably on top of the slide as you lean back, your knees to your chest as you close your eyes and enjoy the summer breeze. “Especially nowadays when Satoru’s too busy with some stuff and Suguru’s got martial arts club.”

Weird. You’re weird. Don’t you know that both of them are very obviously cursed technique users? Does she have to spell it out for you? Why are they even—

“So I hope you don’t mind hanging out with me, Ieiri-san.” The sunlight catches in your eyes, your skin warmed by light rays that made you look like you were glittering under the setting sun’s orange glow. “I’m happy that you even want to talk to me.”

Yet, she thinks that it might not be so bad after-all, not when you’re sleeping on her lap, your head positioned on her thighs and her hand in your hair upon this familiar, very expensive wooden bench— That she got her maids to put pillows on.

(Just to outdo Gojo Satoru. Nothing else, really.)

“She looks comfortable.” Geto Suguru is sat close. Right by your other side as you continued to sleep, your breaths quiet and your eyes closed in such undisturbed serenity that it just felt wrong to wake you.

“That’s cause she is.”

“She could’ve slept on my shoulder.” It’s out as an almost huff, another flip of the page of the book he was reading as all of you sit together in serene peace.

“But she chose mine.” It satisfies her to know that she’s got the upper hand in this situation, that she has an advantage over the boy whose emotions she can never properly discern.

“It was just the angle, Ieiri.” Suguru huffs, eyes flippantly glaring at the words of the book he was meant to be reading— Before they met smug coffee-brown. “You don’t have to look that proud.”

“Sad that you weren’t the 1st pick?”

“You wish.”

Ieiri Shoko wouldn’t say that there was nothing between her and the other… Commoner. Wouldn’t say that she disliked or liked him just yet, for even she was confused on how a bond somehow ended up forming between them despite him, Geto Suguru not being up to par in terms of family standing or wealth.

(But with that cursed technique and natural talent for Jujutsu… No wonder he too took the Jujutsu society by storm, especially when it was discovered that the Gojo family had started training him.)

It was a solidarity formed simply by them being the sanest ones out of your little quadruple. Well, sane and actually cohesive when he was separated from the Gojo menace, anyway. Don’t get her wrong, you were cute, even had a good head on your shoulders— But you were far too easily swayed when it came to your friends.

It was almost scary how trusting you were of them.

“…if I ate it, I’ll really get better at using cursed energy…?” You’re staring at the green pepper clasped in between his chopsticks, hands subconsciously clasped over your mouth in protective defense as you watch the utensil hover near you.

And Geto Suguru was just far too practiced for you. A soft smile, his pretty purple eyes hidden behind upturned eyelids, head tilted so innocently to the side with his hair gently swishing along and exuding an air far too mellow for this situation.

“That’s right.”

(And Ieiri Shoko thinks that you’re kinda dumb, honestly. If being dumb in a good way existed, anyway.)

Maybe, only when the pinks and oranges in the clouds gather and start to hide the setting sun… That this thinks that this type of menial life wasn’t so bad afterall.

Ieiri Shoko thinks she really will enjoy her school life here, no matter how much the upper echelon of people will criticize her.

——

You’re 13 when you’re trying to sew the rip in your middle school uniform, the unfortunate tear a direct consequence of accidentally falling on your face and getting saved by a panicking classmate who was not at all very gentle with tugging at the collar of your poor sailor blouse to save you.

(Beggars can’t be choosers, you suppose.)

It’s unfortunate, very much so as your eyes narrow and glare at the 3rd time you pricked yourself with a needle that didn’t want to agree with you.

(It’s definitely out to get you.)

The sound of jingling keys and the familiar way your door swings open thankfully saves your slightly mangled uniform from getting just that little bit more tattered.

The front door always creaks a little, always squeals a little too loud as you turn your head to meet familiar eyes that continue to smile regardless of fatigue, the sound of tumbling heels and a bag getting plopped onto the genkan’s old shoe cabinet.

“Mama, welcome back.”

Throughout the years, you don’t think you’ve ever been lonelier within your now slightly less empty home. You suppose it’s because when you’re older, you have to get newer stuff too. Just to match your age and the ever-changing times that the old people on TV are always complaining about.

There’s a new carpet, one softer than any of the ones you used to own. A new coffee table that didn’t shake every time your knee even grazes it wrong— And a new fancy coffee machine that Mama had been using a little too much.

(Courtesy of Geto-mama. She said it was to thank the both of you for being ‘such great neighbours’ and that ‘she hopes that you stay her neighbours forever’ with tears in her eyes.

Mama says it might be because Geto-mama’s rut was coming soon around that time.)

Mama even has a brand new, shiny job as an office lady. From a waitress running around an izakaya to a corporate worker who sat in an office chair all day.

You think it’s quite the Cinderella story in itself.

‘Never belittle your achievements, for a small step forward is still progress made!’

(You honestly liked her doing the waitressing one better. She came home at reasonable times, had some weekdays off and even brought extra food back.

Life was good when you could stuff yourself on the too many yakitori sticks she brought home.)

But everything comes to an end, you suppose. So you hope these aches Mama always gets in her shoulders do too as your hands knead into her back, little grunts escaping you as you really put your back into it.

“Ugh… How was— School today, sweetie?” Your mother sighs when you get another knot out, releasing her stiff shoulders when you press just right.

(An expected question. It was the 1st day of your new middle school after all.)

“I don’t like the uniform.” It’s slightly itchy, smells weird despite the wash in your slightly old washing machine and it wasn’t as cute as the ones you saw in all the animes you watched on TV. “It’s kinda uncomfortable.”

All because it was new. Oh, that and the unfortunate fact that your mother requested your skirt to be so long— Especially with the approaching summer soon to come, teasing stuffy, hot days and sweaty clothes.

(You don’t mind too much. Saya-chan says miniskirts are not in her top 3 favourite things to wear, after all.)

“Hmm…” She doesn’t give much of a reply, her back relaxing back into the couch and her shoulders stiffening a little more from her actions as you continue.

“The new medicine Dr. Homura gave me tastes funny too. It’s not as sweet as last time.”

You think for a little. Just a little, because this situation just requires too much of your careful attention.

“But I think it’s working okay. Suguru says I usually just smell like normal.”

“Suguru,” You tug on his sleeve, fingers having a death grip upon his uniform as you swallow. Nervously shifting your weight from a leg to the other as you hurriedly tug off the strap of your backpack, shifting your hair back as you reveal the side of your neck to him.

It only hits you now that you both were standing before the big gates of Gege Junior High, only hits you when your palms felt wet and uncomfortable, damp and nervous.

Because what if your medicine didn’t work and you somehow reveal the 1 thing Mama wanted you to keep under wraps?

“Check me again, please…” Your eyes feel like they’re going dry, pure anxiety coursing through you all at once.

Just to sate your worries.

“You shouldn’t ask just anyone to check like that,” There’s a hand on your shoulder to steady you, black strands of hair tickling your cheek as you subconsciously hold your breath.

You’re stiff when his nose grazes your neck, gently swiping against your skin as he leans in close, leans in near. His body feels so warm when there’s barely any distance between you, he smells of citrus, of lavender sprigs and soft vanilla.

“Okay?”

“Mm… Oh, and Satoru woke up late so he wasn’t even there for the opening ceremony.” He doesn’t really come to school anymore, so it was a pretty big deal when he showed up with a bedhead and bleary eyes behind a pair of sunglasses.

(And attracted a lot of attention.)

“Hmph…” He’s obviously tired, yawning with a lazy hand over his mouth as he leans on Suguru’s shoulder, a spot of drool making its way down his lip as fingers surreptitiously position themselves to flick at his forehead.

“Ow…” He barely even reacts even when Suguru hits, doesn’t even get up— And even purposely drops his body weight onto the poor boy’s sturdier form.

“Satoru— You idiot, wake up.” It’s hissed, annoyed. Yet lacking all the bite it was supposed to have as Geto simply lets the spoiled Gojo continue to do as he pleases… Albeit at his own detriment, given the eyes that were pinned onto the overtly close childhood friends.

“Serves ya right, ugly bangs…”

Middle school is gonna be okay, you think.

——

“(last name)-chan! I didn’t know you were so close with Geto-san!” You hear a dragging of a chair, only able to blink twice before there’s a lunch box clattering onto your desk. Hasty, unpracticed and rushed.

Taking you by surprise.

“Ah, huh?” You’re confused as you halt the search for the poor textbook that you were so sure you had packed last night after Suguru reminded you through the window.

(And that you were sure you hadn’t lent it to Satoru.)

But… How did she know?

“Hm? He came by yesterday to drop off something of yours, didn’t he? Even called you by your first name and everything.” You can hear the clatter of her chopsticks, the sounds of her plastic utensils getting unpacked. “You both must be quite close to be like that!”

“Or maybe… I’m wrong?” You see something diminish in her eyes, something akin to a sudden flicker of disinterest as her feet steady themselves as if they were about to leave.

“Uhm… No, I guess you’re right. We are friends,”You say it so matter-of-factly, so nonchalantly as your eyes zoom about near the collar of her uniform.

Ya- Yamo— No, it probably wasn’t that. Something different, something else. Luckily for you, these uniforms came with name tags.

“Mi— Jou-san?” Your eyes squint at the small tag, the bright blue contrasting against the navy of your uniforms, proof that you were all 1st years in junior high.

“Mhm!~ I didn’t expect anyone to be so close with those star students! Didya meet ‘em in elementary or something?”

‘Star students’. Classes were separated based on how well each individual did on the entrance exams. Divided in terms of academics, segregated based on performance.

Truly, this was the epitome of meritocracy, you think.

(But being 2 classes down from your friends does seem a little much, in your opinion.)

“Hello?~ Are ya there?” Her hand waves you back into focus, realization striking you when your eyes flicker from her name tag— To her brown eyes— Then to the whiteboard with the class schedule written down.

Your (still missing) textbook.

“You’re gonna go see them?” Her voice teeters on a tremor, a clear sparkle in her eyes and a vibration in her tone that you just can’t ignore.

“An opportunity to be nice doesn’t hurt anyone! Today, your lucky colour is blue to correct the amount of redness in today’s luck! Watch out for yourself, do good deeds and stay cautious!”

You suppose it doesn’t hurt if Suguru knows he has a fan.

——

It’s only the 5th day of the beginning of middle school life— And Gojo Satoru thinks he’s going to burst from irritation had it not been for the innocent look in your eye and the confused tilt of your head.

“Satoru? Are you okay?” A cold bar of pinkish-red ice cream appears in front of him, waving around and beckoning him to have a taste— As he just stares on with a frown.

“Maybe he’s constipated.” It’s uncommon for him to be this disinterested, this unhappy— Especially at the sight of sweet treats.

(And Geto Suguru already knows exactly what’s on his mind.)

“Do you not like the watermelon flavour after all?” You’re now despondent, shoulders slumping as you stare down at the ice cream you had gotten at the nearby convenience store after Satoru had slapped a ¥1000 bill in your hand, cheeks flushed red and claiming;

“Ya can get anything ya want.” He pushes his palm through his hair as he averts his gaze, shy, but so huffy and embarrassed as you smile at him in gratitude. “M’ sorry for not comin’ for so long.”

Gojo Satoru doesn’t mind. He shouldn’t have minded at all, really. You’re just trying out a new flavour of ice cream, right? Just trying to change it up a little and be more adventurous, aren’t you?

(Wrong. And he was pretty sure you’ve never even spared a glance at this brand of ice cream in your life, especially when he’s given you tons more of more expensive ones that you most definitely like better.)

And Gojo Satoru doesn’t mind that you’re suddenly interrogating him on ‘his type’. Doesn’t mind that you look at him with that cute curiosity in your eyes and a nod of your head as you— Don’t even try to hide the fact that you’re writing it all down in a notebook that was most definitely your ‘diary’.

(Trust him. He’s even straight up asked you to let him read it… Only for him to find logs about food, Saya-chan, anything you’ve been watching on TV recently—

And nothing juicy at all.)

“Do you think long or shorter hair is cuter, Suguru?”

The noiret’s eyes blink once before they flicker towards your own hair length, only staring for a few seconds before he was back to smiling.

“I think your length would be the most ideal.”

Hah. What a kiss-up.

(Not like he was any better.)

“Do you think twintails are cute, Satoru?” You poke at his cheek as he sits next to you, ads running on your old TV as you both await the continuation of the newest Pokemon episode.

“They’re ugly.” He huffs through a bite of chocolate, eyes turning towards you to offer you the bar as he sees your hands reach up to your own hair— And imitating said hairstyle.

“Really?” You turn to look at him with the proposed hairstyle, causing him to nearly choke as you close your eyes and think a little. “I always thought they were cute though.”

“T-They look fine, I guess.” But only on you.

“What’re ya even gathering all this useless info for anyway?” The watermelon popsicle is already in his mouth, red staining his tongue and teeth as he bites down on the cold treat— The artificial sweetness mixing strangely with the poison on his tongue. “Ya don’t think we like you enough?”

He doesn’t like this at all. Not one bit.

“No,” You begin once more as you hum, your ice cream sandwich half-eaten as you offer a bite to Suguru. “I’m learning trends.”

…what?

“Mhm.” You nod— Innocently.. “You know Mijou? The one you both met a few days ago?” The annoying one who couldn’t stop gawking, yeah, Satoru’s pretty sure he knows her, given how taken she was by him.

(“Shoko doesn’t like her.”

“That’s cause Shoko doesn’t really care about most people.”)

He remembers the way she tried to cut into every conversation, every word from you getting lapped up like a camel to water, remembers the way her smile was too tight, too forced— As if she desperately wanted to jam a puzzle piece into somewhere it just didn’t belong.

(He should be alarmed, should be annoyed. The energy this girl was radiating was sinister, was unfortunate. Yet, he knows she doesn’t even possess enough cursed energy to see cursed spirits.)

“She wants to know more about you guys too.” A nod to your testament as you lick up escaping drops of melting ice cream.

(It never hurt to know just a little more about someone.)

“I’m sure she’s nice, but,” Suguru cuts in, thankfully— With his tone of bluntness and so straight to the point. “I’d prefer knowing I’m hanging out with you and not someone else.”

(Did you really have to look surprised? They both knew you like the backs of their hands.)

“Oh.” Your eyes look to the ice creams and back to purple eyes. “Sorry, I just… Thought that you might like her a little more if you both knew some of her favourite things…”

(He’s pretty sure you’ve learned that from that talkshow you listen to every damn morning.)

“What’s got ya so interested in her till this point, anyway? Ya plannin’ to make friends with her or something?”

“…no, I don’t break my promises, Satoru.” No matter how childish and long ago they were. Yet, you blink at them as if something was wrong, as if you were distraught and confused. As if you don’t really get why they don’t understand yet.

“But cursed energy… Is made of negative emotions, right? And if they accumulate enough overtime, it can cause a cursed spirit to be born.”

“Yea. Y’er point?” Gojo Satoru is getting tired of this, and his mind begs, pleads with him to just tell you to stop trying to make them like friends such a desperate weirdo.

“(name).” Suguru cuts you off, realization peaking in his eyes as his mind catches on far too quickly for Gojo’s liking— He never fares well when it came to thinking about others, after all. “You’re not saying that you think—“

“She’s… Lonely.” There’s something flaring up in your eyes alongside your innate strength, a glow of power that Satoru’s never really seen before. “She says her parents are never really home and that she’s happy she gets the house to herself in the afternoons.”

“I-It just looks like it’s just been stewing for a really long time, since she says she gets reoccurring nightmares and night terrors. She doesn’t have enough cursed energy to see it, but—“ You take a breath in as you continue to ramble. “I could be wrong and it could just be something else… But I just have a feeling that she needs help…”

“That’s what being a Jujutsu Sorcerer is, isn’t it?”

previous masterlist next

#jjk x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #satosugu x reader

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weeb-polls-with-pip · 10 months ago

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Autistic Anime Boys Side B Round 2 Match 8

Propaganda:

Ranpo -

"Picks up a bunch of things that other people don’t notice which made him feel really alone as a kid. Then this old man (he’s like in his 20s) walks into his life, basically adopts him and tells Ranpo that he’s smarter than everyone else and they’re just stupid. Founds a detective agency just to put this guy’s intelligence to good use. Ranpo can solve a crime in under a minute but cannot use public transportation. My favorite boy."

Masayoshi -

"Has a special interest in superheroes and has a huge collection of superhero merchandise and can recite his favorite superhero movie word for word along with all of the fight choreography. Became incredibly apathetic throughout high school after finding out superheroes aren't real. His dream to be a superhero is so strong that it literally alters the world and causes aliens to invade earth so he can be a superhero."

#tumblr polls #autistic anime boys poll #original poll #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #ranpo edogawa #edogawa ranpo #rampo edogawa #edogawa rampo #bsd ranpo #ranpo bsd #samurai flamenco #samflam #masayoshi hazama #hazama masayoshi

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tj-dragonblade · 3 months ago

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[FIC] Past the Wit of Man (or, Bottom's Dream)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: M Word Count: 3657 Tags: comedy, attempted comedy, comedy devolving into feels, identity reveal, sex worker Hob Gadling, advancing my Men In Lingerie agenda, long-haired Hob Gadling agenda, stretching timelines like taffy, Desire and Dream get along AU, but Desire is not actively in this, Dead Boy Detectives comic spoilers mentioned, miscommunication, Dream of the Endless finally uses his words, happy ending

Notes: Kudos props and huge thanks to everyone in the Mr Sadman discord who creatively interpreted a snippet I posted of something else and launched the whole idea of Hob working for a supernatural escort service; this would not exist without y'all and your beautiful brainstorming. ❤️

This fills the August monthly @dreamlingbingo prompt Identity Reveal, replacing square A2 (creature: Veela) on my bingo card

Summary: Hob is nicely settled in a new career and a new identity and does not expect to see his Stranger until 2089. The universe, apparently, has other ideas.

On AO3

~ "Your client is Dream of the Endless. He is extremely ancient and extremely powerful, an underpinning concept of the universe. Absolutely terrible about loosening up and letting himself relax."

"Don't think I'd be much good at relaxing if I was an underpinning concept of the universe either," Hob jokes, opening the profile that the Agency rep has just airdropped to his phone and thumbing through it.

The rep, a foppish vampire with curly white hair and impeccable fashion sense, arches one elegant eyebrow at him. "Apparently his most recent girlfriend dumped him quite harshly and his sibling has arranged this booking on his behalf; he's—and I am quoting here—'absolutely incompetent at managing his own happiness'."

"He knows he's been booked though, right? I'm not gonna catch the fallout because no one told him what kind of appointment this is?" It's only happened once, a prank played on a shy ace nixie by her well-meaning but ill-informed friends; all the same, Hob does not care to repeat the experience—particularly with someone potentially more dangerous.

"He is very much aware and in agreement, yes. We promised him our top companion." The rep dimples at Hob, a smile of saccharine sincerity that shows only the barest hint of fang. "And that's you, sweet Nick."

"And that's me," Hob agrees matter-of-factly, frowning at his phone, then turning it to show his guest. "No photo?"

The rep glances at the screen and makes a commiserative noise. "Oh, yes. Unfortunate, that. Cameras have a very hard time with this fellow, something to do with his general relationship to reality." His tone takes on a simpering air of great melodrama. "We were forced to use an artist's rendition instead! Tragic, really; it doesn't do him justice."

"Huh," Hob says, turning his phone back and studying the cartoony hand-drawn image. Guy looks like he's got some sort of steampunk insect for a head, dark and bolt-laden and bug-eyed, with a trunk that's strongly reminiscent of a disembodied spine. "Dream of the Endless, you said? Looks more like a bloody nightmare."

The rep gives an exaggerated roll of his shoulders, as if shrugging off his delivery duty now that it's done, and turns to leave. "Well whatever the case, an Endless is far above the average client, darling. Give him your best."

"'Course." Hob grins. "That's why you brought the assignment to me, after all."

"Just so." The Agency rep gives a lazy wave in parting and Hob closes the door, still scrolling through the profile as he makes his way to the kitchen.

"Dozens of titles and names", he murmurs, glancing through the list of them. "King of Dreams and Nightmares, alright. Contains the entire collective unconscious of every living being in. Every…universe…?" He shakes his head. "Has never taken a vacation ever. Bested Lucifer Morningstar and oversaw the reassignment of Hell—okay, wow. Billions of years old." He whistles, a long sound of awed disbelief. "Maybe I throw in a free massage for this guy; sounds like he could use it."

He shakes his head again, pockets his phone, carries on with getting breakfast together.

Bug-headed workaholic foundational concept of the universe. Won't be the weirdest client he's ever serviced.

It's been ten years since his stranger showed up late for their meeting and smiled so openly and named him friend. That had been their longest meeting yet, lasting all afternoon and on into the evening and it wasn't until the Inn had started closing up for the night that they wound down. His stranger had spoken briefly of the missed appointment in 1989, making clear that something at least mildly traumatic had kept him away and also that he did not wish to elaborate, and Hob had let it go. There was so much to tell of his own century past, his friend remarking with interest on a great many of his stories, and it was enough. His stranger, his friend, had come back, and they'd had a lovely long meeting. Perhaps in 2089 he would be comfortable sharing more of his own story, but even if not, Hob didn't mind. He was confident once more in the friendship he'd declared back in 1889 and willing to coax it out bit by bit, meeting by meeting. He had all the time in the world, after all.

Within a year of that meeting he'd wrapped up his teaching career, arranged for ownership of the New Inn to transfer to a 'relative' in the States who'd keep it running the next few decades, and started searching for a new career for his next identity.

He stumbled quite by accident into the broader supernatural world after being stalked by two dead teenagers helping that de Rais creep who wanted to steal his immortality. It all turned out fine in the end but opened Hob's eyes to exactly how much the supernatural had integrated into the modern world around him. And once old Hettie clued him in to the existence of a certain Service Agency catering to supernatural clients, his next career path was all but decided. What was he going to do, not seize the opportunity for fantastical sexual exploration when presented with it? Life was for living! Werewolves, vampires, sirens and fae and merfolk, the occasional ghost and even an extra-terrestrial or two; scales, feathers, tentacles, knots—Hob's shown them all a good time and earned a stellar reputation among the Agency's clientele. He doesn't plan to do it forever, but he enjoys exploring new avenues and stretching his limits and 'Nick Bottom' is the perfect persona to let him do so.

And now sweet high-priced in-demand Nick has been booked to rebound-fuck an uptight concept in humanoid form who looks like something straight out of a nightmare.

Hob can't wait to completely take this guy apart one orgasm at a time until he's a boneless puddle of satiation and send him home afterwards a brand new man.

Concept. Entity. Whatever.

The booking is scheduled for the following day and when the time comes, Hob is fresh and clean and set up in the Agency's most lavish suite. He's let his hair grow the last few years, sports a proper Hozier-like mane at this point, is wearing it down for this appointment. His beard is several weeks old, trimmed to artfully-scruffy perfection and well-groomed. He's lounging on the bed in a short open silk robe and a pair of lace panties that hug his hips and leave most of both arse cheeks exposed, a popular outfit in his repertoire sure to please the classiest of clients with the most discerning taste. Both pieces are a matching vibrant cobalt blue that complements his skin tone beautifully. He's wondering what fucking a concept is like, idly massaging his dick now and then to keep it primed, when finally there's a peculiar displacement of air and then a figure in dark robes with a weird spine-trunked bug-eyed head is standing in the middle of the suite. He's taller than Hob and inhumanly rail-thin; the robes plunge deep from the neckline, displaying milk-white skin without a hint of chest hair and clavicles that beg to be nibbled on. He's in profile, angled slightly away, and Hob has the distinct sense that this is a deliberate pose meant to make an impression, to instill awe and possibly fear in him.

So Dream of the Endless has a flair for drama, got it.

"Hello," Hob greets in his best breathless-and-sultry tone, rising from the bed to approach his client. He layers in a suitable amount of awe, pitching his voice toward 'smitten' with a subtle ring of sincerity to support it. "Oh, wow. You must be Dream of the Endless; I'm so delighted to get to meet you! I'll be taking care of you today; you can call me Nick."

The guy, the concept, Dream of the Endless, he goes stock-still as Hob speaks, and it's like the air in the room pauses with him. He turns, slowly, until Hob is face to face with his…oh, possibly that's a mask, then; the bug-eyed lenses are somewhat translucent in the light though Hob still can't see beneath them.

"There has been some mistake." The voice is deep and distorted through the helmet-mask, bone-rattling in an almost-pleasant way and, somehow, somewhat…familiar? "I was meant to be meeting with 'Nick Bottom'." The quotes around the name are audible.

"That's me!" Hob says, raking a hand back through his hair and shaking it to settle around his shoulders attractively, flashing his most charming smile. "At your service, love, whatever you need. I'm here to make sure you have a very good time, and—"

"Hob Gadling."

That draws him up short. He's currently Robyn Gadrin for tax-paying purposes in the outside world, but the Agency wouldn't give out his current identity let alone his true name, so how—

Hob's brain is babbling insistently about the note of familiarity in that voice and he finally lights on why as Dream of the Endless reaches up to remove his helmet.

Hob finds himself staring at the slightly-more-than-human-but-still-very-familiar face of his Stranger, his centennial touchstone, his friend.

Everything about his reality tips a little bit sideways, dominoes crashing one after the other in his brain until all that's left is that awful ringing alarm tone that features in emergency broadcast alerts on American telly.

Between them, the silence stretches awkwardly, until finally Hob breaks it, the first thing that comes to his tongue spilling out while his poor brain is still rebooting.

"Six-hundred some-odd bloody years, and this is how I learn your name?!"

It is five minutes later. Hob is sitting on the side of the plush bed in his short silk robe and lace panties, clutching a bottled water and seriously considering availing himself of the bar in the next room because his emotions are all over the place. His Stranger—Dream of the Endless, apparently—is seated next to him. His eyes are not the blue that Hob is used to, are fully black with actual stars winking in and out of them; it's gorgeous but uncanny. He's currently not looking at Hob, has got the weird bug-spine helmet gripped tightly in both hands. Which are still so pretty, Hob can't help noticing, his fingers longer and more spindly than normal, splayed wide around the curve of the helm, nails painted black. Or maybe not painted, maybe they just are black.

Pretty, regardless.

Not a helpful thought at this juncture.

It's not like he'd thought his Stranger was actually human, obviously, and okay yes the possibility of meeting up with him via this particular career choice had crossed his mind once or twice, might've featured in a private fantasy or two; but also he'd never seriously imagined it because it felt so entirely implausible that his prim and lofty Stranger would ever engage in something so mundane. So casual.

Apparently, Hob was wrong about that.

He's not sure how to feel about it, either.

The smooth inhumanly-pale chest on display in the plunging vee of those artfully-draped robes is also not helping anything.

His Stranger—Dream— moves slightly, glances at him with those starry eyes, flexes those pretty fingers on the helmet. "I will. Arrange. For another. To take your place, Hob, you need not—"

"Now hold on a minute," Hob interrupts, sudden direction presenting itself for his floundering emotions to flow. "What do you mean, 'arrange for another'? What's wrong with me?"

Dream, his name is Dream of the Endless, Dream looks perplexed. "Our. History—"

"Oh yes, our illustrious storied history wherein we have met all of seven times before now and, may I remind you, you took offense to my suggestion that we might be friends until you'd had time to digest it properly, yes."

"Eight."

"Eight?"

"I visited your dream, before undertaking a daunting journey from my realm to another. We shared wine. You gave a most thoughtful toast."

"I. Okay." He remembers that dream, yes; he remembers the wine that followed him out of it, and now with the knowledge that his Stranger is apparently King of all dreams and nightmares suddenly it all makes brand new sense. But he will process that later. "Eight. Still not a factor in my ability to do my job."

Mostly. It is his Stranger, after all, and it's not like he hasn't ever wanted—

"Sex would be. Awkward," Dream insists, and Hob loses it, never mind he'd half-thought the same thing until a second ago; Dream saying it makes him refute the assertion with everything he's got.

"You dare," he says, setting aside his water.

Dream boggles at him, cosmic eyes wide, mouth slightly parted.

"You. DARE. To disdain my professional services just because we know each other?!"

"Hob— "

"No. No, your booking was very clear that you were to have the very best, and that. Is. Me. So you will not be re-booking with another companion on the grounds that our acquaintance makes it 'awkward'; if you mean to partake of the services you've hired you will partake of them with me."

"My sibling."

"What."

"My sibling hired your services. Did they know—" He's half talking to himself and Hob sighs, forcefully pulling the conversation back on track.

"Yes, right; your sibling booked you and here you are. Did you want to get laid today?"

"You need not be so crude about it."

"Forgive me. Of course. Did you come here hoping to have a sensual skillful sexual experience with a stranger intent on your pleasure with no judgments or expectations placed upon you in return?" He makes a valiant effort to rein in his sarcasm. "Because I can still provide that. Minus the bit where we're not strangers."

Dream looks positively miserable, a sodden wet cat of a man in sex-appeal robes hunched on the edge of the decadently-plush bed, and there is certainly an understandable element of embarrassment to the situation but Dream is taking it so seriously. Hob is not surprised, exactly, but christ—he's more than willing to follow through never mind any feelings he may or may not want to admit to, and Dream is the one who'd agreed to the booking in the first place. You'd think he could handle this hiccup with a little more grace.

"It was my intent to. Do, as you say," Dream says at last, and Hob sighs.

"Is that still what you want, then? I promise I'll take good care of you." He's actually really warming up to the idea, not that he was cold to it to begin with. It's his Stranger after all. He's been willing to say yes for centuries. "They really did book you the best, and I would love to show you how well-earned my reputation is—"

"Hob—" Dream sounds pained, gives an artfully-dramatic shake of his head. "My wants are. Manageable. If no one else is available. I cannot simply engage with you so frivolously—"

Hob leaps up from the bed, stalks a frustrated few steps away and whirls back, spreads his arms. "Am I not appealing to you, Dream of the Endless?" He tosses his head, shakes his hair back, gestures at the blue silk and lace that he knows looks absolutely spectacular on him. "Would you like me to change clothes? I have a dozen more ensembles I'd be happy to put on if you'd rather peel me out of one of those. Would the Prince of Stories prefer roleplay? Golden-age pirate, biker bad boy, Mr. Darcy or Elizabeth, cowboy, librarian, Starfleet officer—I'll dress however you like." He's fired up, he's…it feels like anger but it's more like alarm; he is absolutely not about to let a colleague fuck HIS Stranger if Dream's looking to unwind. Not with all the thoughts he's entertained the last couple centuries, not when Dream is looking so entirely miserable about the whole experience. Hob wiggles his bare toes in the plush carpet, forcing a deep breath; he is jealous and possessive and protective all at once and has no idea how to safely navigate this storm to get Dream what he wants without pissing him off.

"Your…clothing becomes you greatly, Hob." He's sneaking a glance as he says it, like he's not allowed to look but can't help it. "Your clothing is not at issue."

"Then what is?" Hob rakes a hand back through his hair, frustration fizzling, careening toward concern. "If you're truly that put off by me, I'll let it go. But you're here, for sex, which you did say you wanted; this is my job and I'm good at it and you clearly need—" Someone to take care of you, he'd nearly said, and while Dream has been giving him so much leeway in this conversation he thinks that might be one straw too much for this particular camel's back.

Nice to know he appreciates Hob's hairy chest and his dick in blue lace, though.

Dream levels him with a look that almost puts him right back to 1889, and Hob has half a second to start panicking before Dream closes his eyes, draws himself up, sets his bloody weird helmet on the bedside table with a soft leathery clunk. When he opens his eyes again, they are resolute, resigned, the eyes of a man headed for the gallows despite the stars winking hopelessly in their depths.

"I do not wish to be intimate with you. When you view it as simply a job. I. Would like—but not. If it is a transaction. If I am merely a client."

Oh. Oh.

Oh shit, really?

Impossible.

Really?

"You want. You want it to mean something?" Hob is embarassed at how small his voice comes out.

Dream closes his eyes, something like shame written all over his beautiful otherworldly-pale face. "I had thought. At our fifth meeting. That perhaps there was the possibility of. Attraction, between us." He opens his night-sky eyes again, meets Hob's resolutely. "Had we not been interrupted…" He shakes his head. "I pondered the idea until next we met, anticipating the possibility of. Seeing, where we might have come to. But you named what was between us friendship, you named me lonely; I perceived your words as mockery and acted accordingly. I spent the next century with a surplus of time to wander my own thoughts. They turned to you, Hob Gadling, with regularity. As I expressed when last we met, I regret leaving our previous meeting so abruptly, so harshly. Your friendship is of great value to me. I am content to let it remain friendship, in the interest of keeping it. But I am unwilling to engage with you, who named me 'friend', as I would a lover when I have yet to fully bury the wish. That you might have been my lover in truth."

Hob is desperately trying to keep from bluescreening again and while he's focused on that, his mouth runs along without him. "You never even gave me a name, but you wanted us to be lovers?"

"I am. Aware, of how foolish my wishes—"

"No, oh no. Dream. Love." He absolutely cannot let him think that. "All you ever had to do was ask."

Dream looks at him, starry eyes full of misery with the faintest spark of hope underneath, glimmering with unshed tears. "I. Could not—"

"That was then. Water under the bridge. What about now."

Dream shivers, his more-than-human face wary and pleading and resigned all at once and the last of the fight drains out of Hob. He approaches gently, until he is directly in front of Dream on the edge of the bed again; he half straddles Dream's lap with one foot still on the floor and a bare knee sunk on the mattress beside him, threads both hands into Dream's hair behind his lovely ears, tips his pale face up.

"Ask me now. Please."

Dream's hand settles above his bent knee, a gentle, tentative touch; his eyelashes flutter, and the sound that leaves him steals Hob's breath. That hand travels softly around to grip the back of Hob's thigh, slides hesitantly higher, and then it's Hob making the helpless noise as Dream's fingertips card beautifully through his leg hair, run up beneath the short robe. Dream's spindly black-nailed hand caresses up over his exposed arse cheek, squeezes, and all the while Dream's beguiling uncanny eyes are fixed on him, wet and wondering, full of blossoming hope.

"Hob Gadling." His voice is hushed, almost reverent. "I should like to have you, as my lover. If you are amenable." His face is tipped up, so close between Hob's hands, and Hob.

Hob's shaking. He's actually trembling, pent up, a little scared; daring, as he leans down and his hair falls around them both, hoping—

He brushes his lips to Dream's.

He kisses his Stranger, his friend, his touchstone.

And Dream of the Endless, who is all of those things, kisses him back.

It's nothing like he might have imagined, and ten times as wonderful, and over before he realizes he's ended it.

"Do you mean it." His voice is breathless, the words spoken directly against Dream's mouth. It's a stupid question, in light of the entire conversation gone before and the hand still on his arse, but he can't help asking. This entire turn of events is just too good to be true.

"Yes."

But true it is, apparently, and Hob's heart soars.

"Then. Dream of the Endless. My Stranger. My friend." He presses soft kisses to those plush pink lips between each moniker, dizzy that he's allowed. "Let me add another title to the list, darling. Take me to bed; the suite is ours 'til tomorrow. Let me learn how you would have me. Let me show you how I would treat you. And let me, at long last, name you mine."

= Started: 8/21/24 Drafted: 8/27/24 Posted: 8/30/24

If you're looking for a spicier take on this concept, @delta-pavonis has you covered: Dossier 54392 - please, give it a read, it's delicious.

(and here, have a post-script-y epilogue-exchange of sorts that did not quite fit:)

= "You chose to name yourself Nick Bottom?"

"What better name for a callboy to the supernatural than the bloke who got unwittingly embroiled in a fae lovers' spat and ultimately survived the entire encounter unscathed? Feels pretty relevant to me. Empowering, a bit?"

"Nick Bottom was less 'empowered' than simply lucky, perhaps."

"Perhaps. I'll not turn my nose up at good luck, either. But a name like Bottom in this business is also too good a pun to pass up, and I figure old Shaxberd would approve."

"I believe he would, indeed."

"The irony being that fully half of my clients want me to top them, heh."

"I do not wish to speak of your clients while you are in bed with me."

"Got better uses for my mouth, have you?"

"Other sounds I would prefer to hear from it, yes."

"Fair enough. Why don't you tell me what you want, Mr. Sandman, and see if I can make your dreams come true."

"Must you be so cliché?"

"You love my clich—mmph—"

"Stop. Talking."

"Yes love."

(Dream will tell him about commissioning A Midsummer Night's Dream at some other time 💖)

= Nick Bottom's lines from A Midsummer Night's Dream that lent themselves to the title: I have had a dream, past the wit of man to say what dream it was and also The eye of man hath not heard, the ear of man hath not seen, man's hand is not able to taste, his tongue to conceive, nor his heart to report, what my dream was. I will get Peter Quince to write a ballad of this dream: it shall be called Bottom's Dream

#TJs Fics #Dreamling #Sandman #Dreamling Bingo 2024

98 notes · View notes

inkykeiji · 2 years ago

Text

characters: jouno saigiku x fem!reader x suehiro tecchou

genre: smut

notes: hi hi! sooo this was only supposed to be a lil drabble based on a dream i had a few nights ago, but it grew into a full fic!! absolutely no one is surprised. please heed the warnings below, this one is a lil dark!

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, sexual torture, edging/orgasm denial, overstimulation, two slaps to the face, dacryphilia, noncon then dubcon, knife play, blood, a hint of mindbreak, a hint of misogyny from jouno, needles, drugs (epinephrine aka adernaline), a hint of degradation, one pussy slap, size kink/size difference, a lil bit of praise, pet names

words: 3.6k

synopsis:

“Would you like to know what my favourite hobby is?” the first man begins conversationally, busying himself with tugging on your restraints, testing their strength. “It’s breaking pretty little bratty bitches like you. Because as beautiful as you are now, nothing compares to how breathtakingly gorgeous you sound when you’ve been thoroughly shattered into tiny little shards of yourself, smeared with tears and sweat, with those sweet, precious sobs—you know, the ones that rattle your ribs and shudder your chest—spilling from your lips. Oh, it’s the loveliest sound, wouldn’t you agree?”

At your responding silence, he continues, gloved index finger tracing the curve of your cheek.

“No? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”

“Where are the remaining Agency members hiding?” The vibrating wand is ground harder into your puffy clit, a plastic click! echoing throughout the dull room, the wand’s intensity kicked up another notch. “Do not make me ask a fourth time.”

It sends a shock of tremors racing up your spine, bending each vertebra into a perfect curve, and your body arches off the bed, worn leather restraints cutting into your wrists and ankles, thick silver buckles jingling as you tug and writhe.

“I told you already,” you manage to gasp out through the gaps of your clenched teeth, fury flaming in your gaze. “I don’t know what you’re fucking talking about! Don’t make me say it a fourth time!”

The sharp sound of skin slapping skin slices through the dense atmosphere as his knuckles connect with your cheek, strong enough to have your head whipping to the side, hard enough to leave stinging little indents of his bones in your flesh—marks that will inevitably blossom into blotchy petals of navy and violet.

“Such a foul mouth for such a pretty lady,” he tuts his tongue. “Didn’t your Daddy ever teach you it isn’t polite for a woman to use such nasty words?”

“Fuck you,” you spit, but the word quivers with your bottom lip, pins of pain searing through your cheek. Reflexive tears coat your vision, burning and bleary, and your nose twitches with a hard exhale, a feeble attempt to quell your crying, bottom lip sucked between your teeth.

“Aw, crying already? Just from one teensy slap?” the man with the crimson-tinged hair shakes his head, as if he’s disappointed, as if this is such a shame. “Looks like we caught ourselves a cry baby, Tecchou.” The man’s head tilts toward your face, lips curled up in sadistic glee. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”

“Indeed,” the man with the chestnut tufts agrees, idly swiping the pad of his thumb across your cheek and killing a teardrop mid-stream, salt water collecting in the grooves of his fingerprint. It shimmers in the dim light as he brings it to his face to examine it, turning his finger one way, then the other, before finally sticking the whole thing in his mouth, lips puckering as he sucks it clean.

At your responding silence, he continues, gloved index finger tracing the curve of your cheek.

“No? Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll show you exactly what I mean.”

Several denied orgasms later—you don’t know how many, you’ve lost count—and everything hurts, muscles dense and sore from the constant coiling before relief is abruptly snatched away, again, fibers unwinding, unraveling, slow and sluggish, barely afforded a moment to rest before they’re being wound back up again by a vibrating toy or two slender, gloved fingers.

It’s hard to gauge how much time has passed since this whole thing began, the officers’ questions dribbling into one another, gooey as they drip from their lips, melding together in one continuous stream before they melt again, mix again, spit out rephrased and repeated.

They’ve since freed your wrists and ankles from the restraints, the man with the crimson tips—Jouno, you’ve learned—twisting his face in revulsion at the thought of you staining them with blood.

She’s too weak to fight back now, anyway, he had reasoned. His partner had agreed.

Crusted salt weights your eyelashes, lids heavy as you blink, hard and slow, in an attempt to rid the bleariness from your vision. But it’s no use, another thick wave of tears rushing to coat your eyes only seconds after it’s been dispelled, rendering everything in your line of sight soft and hazy.

The sterile walls are bleeding into one another, corners fusing into wavering curves, sticky and watery. Someone’s talking, but it all sounds muffled, as if they’re murmuring to you from above the surface, and you frown.

Another slap to the face—open-palmed, this time—throws you back onto their frequency, the pain momentarily clearing the thick static from your head and tuning your ears into their voices.

“I think she’s about to pass out,” the deeper voice—Tecchou—says, a faint note of concern woven into his tone.

“Oh no,” Jouno gasps mockingly. “We can’t have that, now, can we?”

Metal clinks together delicately, then the sound of a nail being flicked against plastic twice before something pricks your arm, sinks in about an inch or so, and sends a substance rushing into your blood; little bolts of electricity that zip through your veins, alighting your frayed nerves but doing little to eradicate the stuffy haze blanketing your mind.

Another question is asked, another question you don’t have the answer to, brain so soupy you can barely comprehend the words hanging over you, suspended in the air. The vibrations from the wand climb another grade higher, your whole body shivering with them. You whine a little, a pitiful sound stringy in your throat, before managing to push a few heavy words from your tongue.

“Incompetent,” you gurgle out, the mangled insult oozing past your lips with large, fizzy dollops of drool. “S’what y’are.”

“Oh, are we?”

“Yeah,” you rasp out, head nodding in messy, lethargic motions. “Wasting time on th’wrong person.”

Jouno laughs, and it’s mocking, mean, stitched together with malicious threads of amusement.

“I don’t think we’re wasting our time at all, actually. On the contrary, I’m having quite a pleasurable time.”

The wand rubs over your clit, first in slow, almost soothing motions, back and forth, back and forth, the touch resembling something gentle, before it begins to build speed, higher and higher, faster and faster, matching the pace of his rapid-fire questions, and you can feel it, a concentrated ball of flames roiling in your gut, furling in on itself quick and tight and hard, and then—

It’s gone.

Again.

He can read your body better than anyone else ever has, better than you yourself have ever been able to, keen senses picking up on those tiny telltale signs of an impending orgasm: the sweet little hitch of breath in your throat—catch, hold, exhale; the muscles beginning to be pulled tense and taut by accelerating pleasure—stomach tightening, thighs clenching, face scrunching; the gentle yet desperate twitch of your hips towards the toy—a pathetically cute attempt to milk your own orgasm from your body before he inevitably takes the toy away.

It’s entirely unfair.

You’ve gone delirious with delayed pleasure again, hysterically hedonistic, nonsensical babbles pouring from your lips in thick, unbroken weeps, sopping with spit and tears.

But that’s okay, Jouno can decipher them, can wring them out and and lay them out to dry, brutal berating falling from his lips in reply as he presses two fingers to your puffy clit, sensitive skin rubbed raw and abused, stroking the swollen nub in slow, purposeful circles.

It’s hard to concentrate on anything when he does this, when you can feel the warmth of his skilled fingers through the thin fabric of his gloves, when he’s laughing at you for being such a good little slut, and look how quickly you drench his gloves!

Because there’s something so much more personal about this, about his hands on the most intimate parts of you, leading you by the nose to the crest of pleasure and allowing you to teeter on the edge, so close to falling, before he harshly hauls you back with a swift slap to your cunt, the heat of his fingers gone in an instant, replaced by a painful tingle.

And then he’s appearing, your brief salvation, your fleeting angel, broad shoulders blotting out the faint light as he leans over your body to wipe you down, strands of chestnut falling to frame his kind eyes.

“I know, I know,” Tecchou’s humming, dabbing a cloth along your damp hairline, soaking up the little dewdrops of sweat caught in your hair. “It hurts, I know.”

“Please, Tecchou, please,” you’re whimpering, trembling fingers curling weakly at the hems of his shirtsleeves, nails scrabbling against the thick material. “Please, make’im stop! I can’t—I can’t—”

“You have the power to put an end to this immediately,” he reminds you gently, as if he genuinely believes you have a choice. “You just have to tell us one piece of information, blossom.”

His palm is cool against your clammy forehead, sweeping hair back from your brow.

“No piece of information is too tiny or insignificant. Anything helps. Just one.”

Another torrent of tears floods your vision again, instantly overflowing past clumpy lashes, your head shaking in disbelief, fragments of denegation on your tongue.

“I don’t—” you hiccup. “I du-dunno what to tell you—I dunno what you want—”

With a sigh, Tecchou clicks his tongue as if he’s disappointed in you—and that hurts, too, an inexplicable ache taking root deep behind your ribs, throbbing with yearning—before slipping easily from your clumsy grasp and melting back into the shadows, Jouno taking center stage again.

“No, please! Wait!” you cry out, head shaking quickly, fingers twitching. “I swear I don’t!”

“Pathetic,” Jouno spits, a merciless type of glee painted across his face, the word so caustic it sears into your flesh, corrosively gnawing away at your skin.

“No, no, no,” you’re whimpering to yourself, eyes shutting tightly as your head shakes again, tears leaking from the crinkled corners. “This is—This is wrong, ’n I—I’m gonna, gonna report—”

“Yeah? And who are you going to call? The police?” they both chuckle, sharing a look between themselves.

A flash of fury slices through your chest, cutting clean through the decadent daze they’ve effectively cast over your consciousness, and you blink hard, red rage incinerating the tears in your eyes in an instant.

With an indignant sniff, you lift your dense head from the pillow to glare at them. Their cocks, impressively thick bulges, strain against maroon fabric, the only physical indication this torture is affecting either of them at all, voices calm and features composed. Jouno’s since removed his hat and his cape, the sleeves of his jacket stained with your sweat—ugly irregular patches of dried salt, material crusty and stiff. He shrugs it off easily, tosses it over a chair in the corner and unbuttons the cuffs of his starched shirt, rolling them up to his elbows.

“Oh?” Jouno tilts his head, a subtle response to your morph in mood. “Are you ready to talk now?”

“I told you already,” you cough out viciously, grinding the words between your molars. “I have nothing to say!”

“Hm. Shame. Maybe this will help jog your memory.”

His fingers dip into his pant pocket, feeling around laxly for an item, a soft hum vibrating on his tongue when his fingers come in contact with what they were looking for. He pulls a piece of glinting silver from the depths, the sharp twinge of metal swiping against metal slashing through the atmosphere as he flicks it open.

A Hattori Higonokami switchblade, beautifully crafted with Jouno’s full name elegantly engraved into the nickle of the handle, the edge of the blade glimmering in the fluorescent light.

“I know it’s not as impressive as Tecchou’s sword,” he begins, turning the knife over in his hand, the very tip of the blade pressed precariously into the fleshy pad of his index finger. “But it still serves an exceptionally important purpose.”

As if to demonstrate, he runs the point of the blade along the line of your jaw, featherlight and stinging. It’s so sharp it leaves a raised scratch in its wake despite its gentle pressure, quivers coursing through your body as your nerves furrow.

He circles the hinge of your jaw, then continues down the curve of your neck, outlining your collarbone before tracing your sternum, coming to a stop in the middle of your chest, pressure of the blade increasing ever-so-slightly, piercing the thin skin.

“Shall I cut your heart out?” he asks, voice irritatingly calm, lips curled into a polite smile. The tip of the blade travels back up your sternum, retreading its previous trail, before it sinks into your skin, right above your left breast.

A yelp catches in your throat, pitchy and cracked, and your body instinctively bows off the bed, pressing further into the knife. A laugh falls from Jouno’s lips, the sound silk and syrup.

The blade curves, then drags down your sternum and to your ribs in a perfect slant before sharply pivoting upward in a V motion, curling around your breast to meet its initial starting point.

A heart.

It isn’t dire, the wound too shallow to require any stitching or attention, but it’s deep enough to have blood seeping from the slashes in a slow, smooth ribbons. They flow as one, not as singular drops but as a whole entity, cascading warm and sticky over your breast and ribs.

“I bet you look so gorgeous like this,” Jouno breathes, and that’s the most impacted he’s sounded all night. Two fingers trace the heart carved into your skin, slow and hard, smearing blood across your chest in crude strokes.

Inhaling deeply, he brings his blood-glazed fingertips to his nose, whole chest expanding as he fills his lungs with the coppery scent. A deep moan rumbles behind his ribs, and he presses both fingers flat to the back of his tongue, dragging them along the expanse of the slimy muscle and depositing thick streaks of crimson.

Revulsion churns your stomach, features puckered in sour distaste, but you can’t help the way your cunt flutters pathetically, wickedly, a shameless gush of heat flooding the apex of your thighs—so much so that you can feel it, leaking down the soft skin, slick smudged and slathered across the dry layers from earlier as the muscles clench and squeeze together—and Jouno laughs.

He can smell it.

Tecchou emerges from the shadows then, the pungent stench of alcohol clinging to his fingers.

It burns as he pats a rough cloth drenched in the substance across your steadily weeping wound, pacifying condolences falling form his lips in little hushes as he works, attempting to ease your pain, his words working as a salve to his partner’s crimes.

“Can’t you just be a good girl and cooperate for us?” he murmurs as he tilts a glass to your lips, sure to feed you in short streams of water. His eyes are brimming with mercy, begging you to to be good, to obey, like the proper little girl he knows you are.

And, really, its his kindness that breaks you, that thoroughly smashes you to pieces, his sheer and unwavering compassion—so genuine, so real—that has a sob tearing from your throat as your head shakes in slow, lethargic strokes, breath stuttering in your chest.

“I don’t—I’m, I’m not—” your tongue fails, trips over itself as the letters tangle around it, curls in on itself and drowns in pools of saliva. “I’m trying, but you aren’t—aren’t listening—”

A fierce sob smothers your words, whole body shuddering from the force of it, and your limbs weakly curl into your chest in desperation, as if you’re trying to hold yourself together, to keep your ribs from splintering and splitting you in two. Your voice is thin, stretched and staining beneath heavy distress.

“Please, please, please,” you’re nearly wailing, nails scraping against your own skin. “Please, stop—I promise—”

A coo of contemplation marinates on the back of Jouno’s tongue, both men peering down at you.

“Perhaps we do have the wrong girl after all,” Jouno muses after a moment, voice painfully indifferent, as if they didn’t just spend hours torturing you. Your heart leaps, potent relief melting your bones, and he chuckles, a thumb caressing your clammy forehead. “Oh?” he questions, a teasing laugh infused in the question. “Does that make you feel better, cry baby?”

Yes, yes, yes, your head is nodding, fingers latching around his wrist and clinging to him. Another soft chuckle slips from his lips, and he lets you hold him, maneuvering his hand to lace his fingers with yours.

“I’m beginning to think so, as well,” Tecchou chimes in, frowning slightly, head tilting as he observes you. “They usually talk by now, and she’s been thoroughly broken, yet all she can seem to say is that she doesn’t know...”

“Well, Tecchou, I think we owe her some relief from all of this, don’t you think?”

“Yes, I do. I will handle it.”

And it’s decided so easily, so simply, so fucking quickly it has you wondering if there was ever any doubt that you were the right person in the first place, if you were merely chosen because you were a pretty girl in a short skirt, plucked from the street between Jouno’s forefinger and thumb, just because he wanted to. The thought tugs at your consciousness, but it’s too frayed and and ruined to fully sew it together, to make sense of it all, the sound of clothes rustling—the drop of a heavy pair of pants against the tiled floor—recapturing your delicate attention.

With an affirmative nod, Jouno pulls his hand from yours, the action more tender than anything he’s performed all night, grinning at the discontented little whine that sounds at the back of your throat.

“How curious,” he murmurs to himself, Tecchou busy unbuckling his belt and shoving at his waistband. “Even after all I’ve put you though, you’re still seeking comfort in me, huh?”

You can’t say anything, can’t do anything but nod dumbly and gurgle to yourself, mind stuffed full of the solace that comes with the promise of repose.

The mattress dimples as Tecchou crawls between your legs, knees spread wide and digging into your thighs, effectively keeping them open and wide. He wraps a palm around the base of his cock, massive and drooling out thick dollops of pre-cum, fat crystalline drops that roll down the shaft to pool in the creases of his fisted fingers.

“Tecchou, T—Tecchou,” you’re whimpering as you reach for him, the name a knotted mess, soaked in spit, hands little grasping claws at the space between the two of you, desperate for the man that has been so sweet, so sympathetic, to end this, to take the pain away and relieve the bulging pressure in your gut, finally.

“She’s been on the verge of cumming for hours,” Jouno says nonchalantly, concentrated on the dirt he’s cleaning from his nails. “She’ll probably cum within seconds of you shoving your cock into her.”

“Shh,” he hushes you gently, taking your shivering body in his strong arms, your fingers scrabbling at his shoulders. “I’ve got you, I’m gonna make it feel better, hush, now.”

The head of his cock bumps against your hole bluntly, taking a moment to find its proper place before he pushes into you, pace slow and steady. He’s fucking huge, thicker than anything you’ve ever taken before, and you can feel your delicate flesh stretching, straining, splitting to accommodate him, cute little hole sucking him in, gorging on his cock as it stuffs you full.

The sting isn’t too terrible, though, his motions aided by how embarrassingly aroused you are, another onslaught of slick streaming down his shaft as he bottoms out, head pressed snug to your cervix, juices pooling in the folds of his heavy balls.

And, as always, Jouno was right.

Because it’s over pathetically quickly, only a mere three snaps of his hips before you’re creaming all over him, tears cascading down your cheeks in glittering streams, collecting in the hollows of your tired eyes and leaking into the hair at your temples.

Tecchou doesn’t fair much better, though, collected composure splintering beneath the pleasure as your cunt convulses around him, the whines flowing from his lips stuttered by the uneven rutting of his hips, hard and fast and flexing against your body.

“Holy fuck,” he’s gasping out, a dewdrop of sweat running down the bridge of his nose. “H-Holy fuck, she’s—she’s so tight, she’s so tight, it’s so good—”

It only takes a few more pumps before he’s following after you, cock pulsing almost viciously as it spurts load after load of thick, hot cum into you, so much so that you can feel it oozing out of you, seeping past his cock and rolling down your ass in fat globs to form shimmering ivory puddles in the ridges of the rumpled sheets.

Sobs are still scraping your throat, lungs swelling painfully with them, so violent they have your whole body shuddering, expanding with each wail before it shrivels up again. Because the alleviation is so pure, so potent, so intense that you’ve gone boneless and pliant, your flesh rippling with chills.

It feels so good, to finally have the tension that had wound your organs and muscles into tight knots releasing, tissues and fibers disentangling, dissolving, stress seeping through your pores; it feels too good, every brush of the threadbare bedspread against your sensitive skin nearly painful, as if your entire body is overexposed, nerves frayed to the nub.

It’s hard to stitch even a single word together now, letters unravelling at the seams, disintegrating into strands of smoke every time you try to grasp them.

But it’s okay; you don’t have to say anything, Tecchou gathering what’s left of your body in his arms.

“You did good, petal,” he pants out as he cradles you to his heaving chest, voice barely more than a wisp of breath. “You did so good for us.”

“Yes,” Jouno chimes in with a murmur and a small, knowing smile. “I think we’ve caught ourselves a very good girl.”

#jouno saigiku x reader #jouno saigiku smut #suehiro tecchou x reader #suehiro tecchou smut #jouno smut #tecchou smut

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linahopeeeee · 2 years ago

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Naked

ღ Pairing: Izuku Midoriya x reader

ღ Summary: Izuku returns home to find you sleeping naked

ღ Words: 1k

ღ Notes: again i say i truly suck at naming things and writing summaries... but anywhooo thanks for reading. feel free to leave a comment or reblog if you enjoyed it :)

masterlist

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Its early in the morning when Izuku tip toes his way through your shared apartment, trying to be as quiet as possible to avoid waking you up. He’s still upset about the fact that a villain somehow managed to slip through his fingers.

He pushes the door to your bedroom open slowly, wincing when he hears the familiar creaking sound, eyes instantly flicking over towards your sleeping figure before widening almost comically.

You’re naked

Like completely naked. Usually you’ll sleep in one of his shirts and a pair of panties. But nope, your entire body is completely bare.

He stands near the door, shocked, for a few moments before a loud moan brings him back down to earth, he watches as you unconsciously grind your hips down on his pillow , trying to get a little friction to your aching clit.

He has to bite his lip to stop the groan that wants to escape, he feels himself hardening in his hero costume, not bothering to change back into his normal clothes before leaving the agency because he wanted to hurry up and get home to you.

He walks over to the bed, eyes darkening as they rack over every inch of your bare body, taking in the way your chest rises in fall with each breath you take. The way the cool air in the room has your cute little nipples hard as a rock or maybe it’s the dream your having, and the way your thighs and his pillow glisten with slick.

“fuck” he groans quietly. He quickly discards his hero costume, before joining you in your bed. “baby” he whispers placing a kiss to your lips as he tries to wake you up. You stir a little bit but remain sleep.

He takes one of your nipples between his fingers, pinching and tugging at it as his mouth engulfs the other one, tongue swirling around the nub before nibbling on it.

“Zu?” you question sleepily, letting out a soft moan as he hums against you. “oh fuck” you whimper when his free hand makes its way to your heat, fingers collecting the slick that’s already gathered, and you’re so happy you chose to sleep naked.

“we’re you having a good dream?” he questions “it was a nice surprise to come home and find you naked, thought I was going to come in my pants when I seen your grinding this slutty little pussy down on my pillow.” He teases causing you to whine out in embarrassment.

He kisses his way from your chest down to your heat, leaving a couple of wet, open mouth kisses down your body. He pushes his face deep into your pussy, inhaling your scent with a growl.

“fuck you smell so good”

He places a soft kiss on your clit before licking up your slit, groaning at the sweet taste of your slick on his tongue.

“fuck zu” you cry out as he pushes through your entrance, tongue working its way through your tight walls as he drinks up all of the slick that pours out of you.

You’re reduced to a whimpering mess when his lips wrap around your clit, sucking harshly on the nub.

“gonna cum zu” you manage to force out right before your orgasm washes over you, your body twitches and convulses as your high rips through your body.

Izuku’s mouth doesn’t stop even after you come down from your high, he licks up all of your slick, feeling it dripping from his mouth down to his chin and he’s so high off of the sounds you make for him that he doesn’t care about the way your pushing his head away from your cunt, crying out about how its too much.

Because he knows it’s not.

You can give him another one before he splits you open on his cock.

You will give him another one.

“jus one more baby” his voice is muffled by your pussy and the vibrations having you moaning loudly. “just one more and I’ll give you what you really want”

He knows he’s got you when your hands loosen the grip on his hair, arms falling next to you as he turns his attention back to your entrance, he watches it clench down on nothing before forcing two of his fingers inside, thrusting them quickly.

His cock is twitching against his thigh, ready to explode just from eating you out.

He wastes no time finding that spot that’ll have your mouth open in silent screams, rubbing at it as he forces another orgasm out of you.

He pulls his fingers out of your walls, bringing them up to his mouth and licking them clean, moaning as the taste of you coats his tongue yet again.

God he could probably live off of the taste of you alone.

He allows you a couple of minutes to regain your senses, waiting for your breathing to return to normal before he’s lining himself up with your entrance.

He pushes himself in slowly, inch by inch until the last inch is swallowed by your tight walls, before pulling back out.

He slams his hips back into yours, starting off with a brutal pace from the get-go. He watches as your tits bounce with each snap of his hips.

“o-oh fuckk” you whine out as he fucks into you so good that it has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, the overstimulation from your two previous orgasms leaving you’re a crying, whimpering mess.

He’s so big that you can feel the bulge in your stomach each time his hips meet yours. Your hands reach up and grab the back of his head, fingers lacing through his messy curls as you pull his face towards yours for a messy kiss.

The kiss is frantic and messy, he forces his tongue inside your mouth, allowing you to taste the remnants of yourself on his tongue.

You can tell he’s about to cum with the way his thrusts are growing sloppy, dick twitching inside of you, and the thought of him filling you up with his seed is enough to push you over the edge.

His thumb finds your clit as he rubs fast circles on the sensitive nub, spilling himself deep inside of you.

His lips are still on yours, his hips still slowly rocking as he the last spurts of cum paint your walls white.

“you should sleep naked more often”

#my hero academia #my hero smut #my hero fanfic #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoriya #izuku x y/n #izuku smut #izuku #midoriya smut #midoriya izuku #bnha fanfictiond #bhna smut #bnha izuku #izuku mydoria #bhna deku #deku smut #deku fanfic #deku fic

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raven-at-the-writing-desk · 2 months ago

Note

Regarding Yuu in the game, we know that they are just a blank slate for players to insert themselves into, but have they had any small evolution besides becoming closer to grim and becoming more comfortable in their stay in twisted Wanderland?

Not really, no? At least not in my eyes. Unless you want to count them slowly realizing that their Disney dreams are connected to events in Twisted Wonderland? Or maybe them slowly collecting all the first years as part of their squad, but I never saw Yuu as being as close to any of them as they are with Adeuce and Grim.

I think one could say Yuu gets “more out of their comfort zone” and becomes more proactive in the story, but I’d argue this is very inconsistent of Yuu’s character. The one major instance of that is Yuu making the conscious decision to go after Grim in book 6. They don’t demonstrate this same agency in book 7. Every other time Yuu is more “involved” in the story, it is often because circumstances (or Crowley) forces them into it.

If Yuu undergoes any significant change beyond the two points you’ve already brought up, it’s a non-blank slate Yuu. For example, individual Yuusonas from the fandom or even Yuuya Kuroki from the light novel (since he is consistently the POV character; the Yuus in the manga adaptation change per dormitory arc). Again, probably by design so players can project whatever details they like onto Yuu.

Yuu is really the point of view character through which we hear all the exposition. The character growth and development the story truly focuses on are those of the NRC students.

#twisted wonderland #twst #Dire Crowley #Yuu #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #notes from the writing raven #question #book 6 spoilers #Grim #twst light novel #twisted wonderland light novel #twst manga #twisted wonderland manga #kuroki yuuya #yuuya kuroki #Ace Trappola #Deuce Spade

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destieltropecollection · 7 months ago

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Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 12: Fake Dating

When You're Lyin' Here in My Arms | @nickelkeep Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 7,240 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Idiots to Lovers, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Everyone Thinks They're Together Summary: Cas' twin sibling Hannah is getting married. No big deal, right? But when the invite comes asking who his plus one is, well... Cas knows that it's not a good sign. In a panic, he asks his life-long best friend Dean to pretend to be his boyfriend. There's no way that can go wrong... Right?

A family affair | @milfdean4dilfcas Rating: Explicit Word Count: 7,332 Main Tags/Warnings: idiots in love, fake/pretend relationship, light angst, pining, Post-Episode AU: s15e18 Despair (Supernatural), the finale does not exist in this house, toddler jack kline, Parent Dean Winchester, Parent Castiel (Supernatural), Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Undertones, the smut is in the last chapter Summary: When the preschool director mistakes them for a couple, Dean and Cas decide to play along to avoid awkwardness. As they pretend to be a loving pair, they're forced to navigate the challenges of hiding their true feelings from each other. But as they fake romantic gestures and affection, the lines between reality and fantasy start to blur. Will their fake relationship become the catalyst for real feelings, or will it drive them further apart?

Welcome to Pit & Paradise | @seidenapfel Rating: Mature Word Count: 11,193 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, The Empty deal never happened, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, Case Fic, Idiots in Love, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Sharing a Bed, Coming Out, First Kiss, First Time, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester Summary: When Claire calls, asking for help to hunt a shifter in an LGBT+ resort, Dean and Cas suddenly find themselves as husbands on their honeymoon. Forced to play a couple, Dean and Cas both have to face their hidden dreams and feelings. It’s all fake, or isn’t it?

The Exception to Every Rule | @mittensmorgul Rating: Mature Word Count: 58,784 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Actor Dean, Bodyguard Castiel, Stalking, Mutual Pining, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed Summary: When Sam was accepted to Stanford, he finally convinced Dean to move to Los Angeles to pursue his acting dreams after sacrificing for four years to support Sam throughout high school. Dean never imagined landing the starring role in a Hollywood blockbuster film franchise, but in just two years he’d gone from obscurity on the Lawrence Community Theater stage to become one of the fastest rising stars in the country. He's adapting pretty well to this new life in the spotlight-- until one unhealthily obsessed fan prompts Dean’s agent to hire a specialist from Seraphim Security to watch over him. Enter Castiel, one of Seraphim’s newest “Angels,” and the only one available to take on Dean’s case a week before Christmas. With Dean’s life on the line, Castiel does his best to maintain a professional distance, but with every passing day they’re both finding themselves making more and more exceptions to their rules.

A Crash Course in Computer Safety | @debatchery Rating: Explicit Word Count: 85,269 Main Tags/Warnings: Fake/Pretend Relationship, Slow Burn, CIA!Cas, nerd!Dean Summary: On the day of his 29th birthday, Dean receives an email from his old nemesis: Michael Milton, the guy who got him kicked out of college and stole his girlfriend. The email contains encoded images with top secret CIA/NSA intelligence – and now their only copy is in Dean’s brain. Both agencies send their best operatives – Castiel Novak and Victor Henriksen respectively – to handle their accidental asset and protect the invaluable data in his head. To justify their sudden appearance in Dean’s life, they adopt covers: Victor as Dean’s new co-worker and neighbor, Cas as his new boyfriend. Needless to say, Dean’s brother and his girlfriend are thrilled to see him in a relationship they believe to be real. Clearly, there’s no way this could go wrong. (NBC’s Chuck AU).

#destiel trope collection #destiel trope collection 2024 #destiel #fanfic #supernatural #fake dating

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basu-shokikita · 1 year ago

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Thinking about Toki's character arc in Metalocalypse...

Now that Metalocalypse is officially over, or so it seems, I wanted to go over what Army of the Doomstar means for Toki's growth.

Warnings for spoilers for, well, the entirety of Metalocalypse.

So, over the course of the show, we see Toki repeatedly trying (and failing) to form a meaningful bond with several living beings, people and animals included.

Analysis under the cut ⬇️

Season 1

It starts with a dying little girl called Juliette Sarmangsadandle in Dethkids (S1E16). Toki is upset over being misunderstood aka his public image being associated with kids and vehemently fights the idea by adopting an edgy personality.

When he watches Juliette's video, about being a child that longs for violence, it speaks to him and his childhood. Toki feels seen by this little girl and imagines his child self singing with her.

Sadly, when he goes out to meet her, she's already dead. Here goes Toki's first attempt at connection, utterly butchered.

In the following episode, we're introduced to Rockzo in Dethclown (S1E17). Toki brings his clown friend over and everyone pretty much almost instantly dislikes him. Not to mention Rockzo tries to betray Dethklok for drugs. Still, he sticks around for the remainder of the show as Toki's friend.

Though it's important to mention how much of that friendship involves Rockzo abusing Toki's kindness and generally being a shitty person. He's not exactly someone Toki can rely on.

It is not that significant but I'd also like to give a shout out to Dethwater (S1E02), where Toki is locked in an oxygen chamber and sings to the fishes and creatures in the sea. It's an early episode, but already portrays Toki's friendly nature and colorful life outlook.

Season 2

In season 2, we have Dethlessons (S2E02). After having a disagreement with Skwisgaar's teaching method, Toki meets Dimneld Selftcark. Though initially wanting him as guitar teacher, it's clear Toki doesn't actually intend to perfect his craft and more than anything appreciates his company. Toki even refers to him as 'a father friend'.

However, as luck would have it, Selftcark is ill and dies in Toki's arms after Toki gave his first recital.

Then there's Dethdad (S2E15), where Toki learns that his dad is dying of cancer. Toki is very much visibly affected by his parents' abuse towards him, though he still decides to pay his father a visit. When Toki finally gains the courage to see him and bond one last time, his father requests to see the cottage he was born at before dying.

Unfortunately, Toki steps and slips on his way there, dropping his father into the ice. Toki watches his father die and is unable to do anything about it.

This boy is really just collecting traumas all the way, huh?

Season 3

Dethhealth (S3E03) has Toki adopting a cat he found at a concert. Although he is not the best caretaker of the animal, Toki is very obviously fond of his new pet.

But, of course, the cat was dying, solving the mystery of who was the person dying within Dethklok. Toki is so devastated that he faints and then proceeds to have an elaborate dream sequence for closure.

Fertilityklok comes three episodes later (S3E06) and we find a Toki jaded with casual sex encounters. He decides he wants to meet a partner whom he can have children with. Though initially facing Dethklok's indignation, Toki goes forward with the idea and lands in a dating agency.

They find the perfect partner for Toki but nothing ever goes well with this guy and the lady in question disappoints Toki both in looks and personality. To make things worse, the agency wants to force him in a relationship with her and for Toki to impregnate her, even.

Toki manages to escape the whole charade and decides he's better off with sluts. This one is not so tragic as much as it's just another total failure at forming the connection Toki so desperately craves.

Season 4

Diversityklok (S4E04) and Bookklok (S4E05) feature Toki's interpersonal problems within the band so I figured they were mentioning as well.

In Diversityklok, Toki complains about feeling constantly left out by the band, so he forms a 'special persons invite club' to gain agency over his friends. He still ends up being forgotten by them at the end of the episode.

In Bookklok, Toki has a fallout with Skwisgaar after being denied a solo and writes a book denouncing his behavior towards him. In modern lingo, he essentially cancelled Skwisgaar. He fails to consistently maintain the fans' approval as he flunks the solo he so desperately wanted. His fight with Skwisgaar is not resolved (at least, not on screen).

Finally we get to Dethcamp (S4E07), where Toki's erratic behavior conflates with the mainline plot. In the search for friends, Toki goes to the Rock-a-Rooni Fantasy Camp, where he's almost killed by one of the campers. He's saved by Dethklok's former rhythm guitarist, Magnus Hammersmith and they subsequently become friends.

Good ending? No, Magnus stabs and kidnaps Toki over Roy Cornickleson's funeral, his fate being unknown as the season ends.

Doomstar Requiem

We finally learn how Toki joined the band. He showed up late to Dethklok's auditions and had a guitar duel with Skwisgaar, where he eventually lost. Defeated, he was abandoning the premises when Skwisgaar says that nobody made him play as well as Toki did, inviting him to join the band.

From then on, it's all rainbows and happiness for Toki as his life finally takes a turn for the better. He has found a family and a home. He loves his brothers and his life. Current Toki is on the brink of death and thinking about Dethklok is his only solace.

I might be biased in saying this but the sequence from 'I Believe' feels like the peak of the movie, and I don't think this is incidental.

While Toki is rescued at the end of the movie, we don't get to see a proper reunion.

Army of the Doomstar

Cut to 10 years later, Army of the Doomstar releases and while the plot is much about the end of the world, we get to see post-DSR Toki.

First of all, at the start of AOTD it is stated that Toki (as well as the rest of the band besides Nathan) has forgotten about what happened during Doomstar Requiem. However, his attitude towards the band is very loving, stating he's happy to be back with them.

He's especially fond towards Skwisgaar, attempting to hug him multiple times, worrying and being generally attentive of him. Toki shows both verbal and physical affection towards Skwisgaar over the course of the movie, finalizing in the bridal carry during the before last scene. Compared to the show, it's a huge contrast to their relationship, where Skwisgaar and Toki behaved as rivals, with Toki feeling simultaneously admiration and envy towards Skwisgaar.

But what are you trying to say with all of this, Basu? Well, essentially it's the following:

At some point, Toki started feeling neglected by the band and began seeking love from outside sources. The childhood companion he never had (Juliette), a father figure (Selftcark), his actual father, a pet, a girlfriend and finally...an actual friend he could rely on (Magnus). All of the aforementioned failed, eventually landing him in an even worst situation where he started.

However, being stuck there, wounded, malnourished and dying is what reminded him of the best time of his life. Of the people most important to him. And even if those memories were seemingly gone, the feeling prevailed.

Sure, Dethklok is massively flawed and there's lot of work they have to do with regards to interpersonal relationships, but they're his family and his life. Perhaps the lifestyle or his need for ego/power (Skwisgaar plays a big hand in this) made him forget about it for a second, but he knows it now. He doesn't need to look for love from strangers, he already has it in them. They're everything he's always wanted and he's going to cherish them for the rest of his life.

And if you're wondering why the special emphasis on Skwisgaar, my theory has to do with the age regressing that was confirmed in the movie. While it mostly happened over the Ishnifus funeral, I think Toki has generally gone back to the emotional state he was in when he joined Dethklok. A young, easily impressionable man happy to finally have found a family.

Which means he holds Skwisgaar in special regard, considering he is the guy that accepted him into the band. Not Nathan, Pickles or Murderface, it was Skwisgaar.

You could almost say that Toki might view Skwisgaar as his hero, given that he is the reason Toki has everything he has right now. So I think Toki's gratefulness is expressing in that almost overwhelming affection. Just like Toki's not going to let himself forget his feelings for the band, he's not going to let them forget about his feelings, either. It might not be easy, but Toki's priorities are clear now. His heart is with Dethklok.

In short, even if Army of the Doomstar didn't address Toki's issues the way we would've wanted, it's still a happy outcome for him and I fully believe he'll have more than enough to work on them. Metalocalypse is, at its core, a story about found family. This is specially true for Toki.

So, I really believe that Toki is eventually going to heal and be happy with the band. :)

#metalocalypse #toki wartooth #dethklok #doomstar requiem #army of the doomstar #basu post #analysis #sorry for the corniness at the end fdjhsdjkfdj #sometimes a bitch loves her blorbo too much #ive been wanting to write this for months i finally got my shit together and did it

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silenttrxxs · 5 months ago

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D&G - choi san - 산

Y/N was known to give an amazing show, her modelling agency had called her in to give her the best news she could have asked for. Walking for Dolce And Gabanna, it was a dream.

It was time, standing behind the scenes waiting for the celebrities and guests to arrive and take their seats. Y/N nerves were creeping in. It would have been a breeze if they hadnt have mentioned that her favourite person had been invited to attend the show. Youre wondering who this is, well its Choi San. Known for being one of the best and kindest souls to ever walk this planet, with looks that could kill a person.

The music starts, cueing the models all to get into place, last minute touchups being made and the doors swinging open. All nerves long forgotten for the time being as Y/N focused her soul into her work. It was all running smoothly until the moment she had finished, she thought to herself that she would get out of this show unscathed. Oh she thought wrong.

San was admiring the clothes, really intreguied by the pieces as everyone walked past him, but Y/N had really caught his eye. The piece that she wore was beautiful, really exentuating Y/N figure in all the right ways. But he couldnt take his eyes from Y/N face. The natural makeup highlighting key points of her face and this drawing in Sans attention not to mention the winks and little smiles that Y/N gave as she walked past, hoping not to get caught.

Everyone managed to get the show done it was time to get out there and greet people, the infamous afterparty. Y/N had changed a nice dress given to her for this event, she made sure to highlight it and showcase it off to everyone.

Taking a glass of wine from the tables lining the entrance Y/N took a sip looking around, before choking a little as her eyes land on san.

Dressed handsomely in a white suit from last years collection, he really looked something out of a royal movie. He was glancing around clearly trying to figure out if he wanted to be at the afterparty. Feeling somewhat the same and wanting to just rest herself, Y/N took a gulp of the wine and walked towards san.

"you look like you want to be here" Y/N said laughing a little.

"My names Y/N, You?" Y/N said trying to play it cool infront of him something striking a confidence she didnt know she had.

"Well hello to you too, my names san" san said laughing a little.

"Well i must say you look handsome today" Y/N remarked a slight blush creeping up her face as she locked eyes with San.

"You did amazing up there Y/N, True beauty doesnt often land infront of me like this" San said being the first to slyly grasp Y/N hand bringing it up and placing a chaste kiss to her hand.

"A princess like you should be worshipped" San said not stopping the rare flirtatiousness come out of him like a tap.

"Well arent you something huh san" Y/N said giggling and trying to turn away to hide the blush on her cheeks.

San laughed noticing the blush but not wanting to probe into Y/N and ruin this chance before he even got it.

"You wanna come back to my hotel its not far and you and me both dont exactly fit the afterparty type huh?" San said laughing as he felt his own blush creeping up his neck into his cheeks.

"Y-Yeah sure why not" Y/N agreed grabbing sans hand and following him as he lead them out of the hustle and bustle of the afterparty.

Getting back to the hotel he turnt to Y/N, any other thoughts leaving his head as he leant into Y/N slowly gaging a nod from Y/N he leant in kissing her deeply, tongues dancing together and breathes getting caught together.

San was going insane slowly, the way she felt in his grasp was something he could have dreamed about. "God youre incredible" San spoke as they pulled away only to notice that Y/N eyes were blown wide and full of a lust that was powerful, he looked into her eyes before leaning in and whispering into her ear.

"Bedroom now, i want you naked and on all fours at the end of the bed by the time i get there" San said leaving a bite on her earlobe.

Y/N was done for the way the words left his mouth left her almost drooling, getting up quickly and moving to the bedroom stripping down to nothing and getting in position she felt helpless in the best way he had her wrapped around his finger.

"Good girl" San spoke as he walked into the room taking the belt off and tapping it in his hands.

"Do you think you deserve anything princess, i saw the way you was flirting with me, this is what you wanted from me isnt it, you knew excatly who i was from the start" San spoke a breathy laugh leaving his mouth as he cracked the belt watching the way Y/N body flinched and the wetness buliding up in between her legs clear and eviddent to san.

San couldnt hold back much longer he needed her just as bad as she needed him before he could even get a response he let his fingers trail down her folds, collecting the wetness onto his fingers and feeling the way she would clench around nothing. Begging silently for him.

"Look at you being so needy for me, just want me cock dont you doll" San said lowly before taking himself out of his clothes, lining himself up and thrusting into her harshly.

"Made for this arent you, such a cockslut... thats obvious to see" San said grabbing a handful of Y/N hair and letting out a breathy laugh. his hand gripping onto her hip with every thrust. sure to leave a bruise in its wake.

The way Y/N clenched around him with every word he said was mindblowing he didnt know if he could hold back much longer. Thrusting harder he let his head roll back as he felt the warm familar feeling collecting inside him. The noises tou made were guiding him to reach his high too. "gonna make me cum baby, gonna make you mine, no one can make you cum the way i do, youll only remember my cock now" san growled slamming into Y/N mercilessly.

San couldnt hold back anymore, he flipped Y/N over gripping onto himself and stroking himself more, "Open wide baby" San said watching the way Y/N Let her tongue hang loosely from her mouth. "F-Fuck" was all san could breathe out before releasing all ober her tongue, some of it falling and landing on her cheeks and even runnig down onto her breasts.

"Fuck youre made for me" San said before catching his breath and moving slowly, laying next to Y/N and pulling her into cuddle placing a chaste kiss to her forehead before she dosed off.

#ateez fanfic #ateez #choi san #ateez san #ateez x reader #ateez smut #ateez imagines

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