#it only makes sense if you're willing to accept the argument that all of the characters and storylines are rearranged into themes

[1moreff-creator]

Regarding your revised Eden!Culrpit Theory Post:

If you're okay answering this, why do you believe that people who believe Hu is the culrpit have to be reading her actions in bad faith? You said that Eden taking the tape means there's more physical evidence for her being the culrpit so arguments about her putting on a facade come from less of a place of bad faith.

However, Hu's wire is involved with the crime & there's no explanation for how it got there. 'Nico took it' but we don't necessarily know that or how, so there's arguably no less reason to assume Hu could be involved as well.

This isn't meant to be inflammatory either, I genuinely just want to understand what you meant by that; I'm impartial one way or another but I don't understand why you would need to be reading Hu's actions in bad faith while you wouldn't also be doing the same for Eden.

ty for answering if you do, and if not ty for reading anyway. ♥️

Hey! Yeah, honestly, I feel I expressed myself pretty poorly in that section of the post you’re referencing, in fact I’ve decided to edit it because I believe it came off as more aggressive and meaner than I intended it to. So it’s fair of you to ask for clarification.

CW: Eden!Culprit, discussion of murder attempt

Technically speaking, both theories revolving around Hu trying to kill someone and Eden!Culprit require some level of “bad faith reading”, in the sense that suspecting anyone of murder is going to make you look at most of what they say in a negative light. So I was wrong to use that term with Hu. I think a more accurate way of saying how I feel about it (and keep in mind this is just my opinion) is that “the level of scrutiny Hu and her lines are placed under is not justified by the concrete evidence of the case(s).”

That should make my feelings a bit clearer. I see the tape’s disappearance from the gym as near irrefutable evidence that Eden is the culprit, so I’m willing to bend and twist her lines of dialogue to fit the evidence. Dialogue has an openness of interpretation that the tape, in my opinion, doesn’t, though I get why that’s not how everyone feels about it.

However, I don’t quite see an equivalent for Hu. The wire in the Ace crime scene doesn’t incriminate her any more than the turpentine used incriminates Rose, or the letter written to Arei (by itself) incriminates Eden. I can pretty confidently say that either Ace or Eden took the tape from the gym; I cannot confidently say that Hu took the wire to the gym.

Despite Nico being caught mid-murder attempt (and they admit they did try to kill Ace), Hu is nowhere to be seen; none of her dialogue afterwards implies she was there; none of Nico’s dialogue points to her being there (their secret quote doesn’t count, we don’t know if that’s gonna be said this chapter or not); unless there’s some method theory I’m missing here, I’ve never really seen a method that requires Hu to be there alongside Nico, and Nico never denies being the one to take the turpentine, meaning they must have been involved since the start. You get the idea.

You need to somehow get around all of that if you’re going to believe Hu is involved in the Ace case, plus the fact that a lot of her dialogue seemingly contradicts the notion at first glance. Meanwhile, the only assumption Nico!SoloAceAttacker requires is that Nico, somehow someway, was able to take the wire at some point; and given there’s precedent to believe they can and would do something like that (turpentine), I find it quite easy to believe.

Obviously, it’s a matter of opinion. To some people, the wire is a smoking gun that proves Hu’s involvement, the same way I feel about the tape for Eden. And I guess, in that case, I can’t really blame them for reading Hu’s dialogue in a different manner. For me, though, the wire has perfectly acceptable workarounds. And I feel Hu being involved in either crime scene makes far more assumptions than simply saying Nico did everything themselves, which then by Occam’s Razor makes me inclined to believe the latter.

Thanks for the ask, and sorry if anyone felt hurt or offended by my original wording, it really wasn’t my intention.

[katamaricolleague]

watched adolescence of utena and. i think i could write an overlong post arguing it's the plot of utena from anthys pov

[alygator77]

∘₊✧─moment of passion─✧₊∘

✧ note // this is part two for moment of weakness ✧

✧ pairing. satoru gojo x fem! reader

✧ summary. after getting in an argument with satoru, you unexpectedly encountered a vicious battle, putting you on the brink of death. feeling remorseful for his actions and words as you lay in the infirmary bed, satoru wants to do everything he can to make it up to you.

✧ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, smut, bit of angst, fluff, friends to lovers, mutual pining, unprotected sex, penetration, oral (f & m receiving), praising, kinda breeding, shower/bath sex, reader does have a slight panic attack (with comfort), satoru taking care of you, satoru and reader in their 20s and both work at jujutsu high, both are powerful sorcerers

✧ words: 12.5k (ye i be yappin)

✧ a/n. the second part to moment of weakness! thanks everyone for your kind words :') i really had a lot of fun writing this. hope part two is to your liking ♡

Satoru feels an overwhelming sense of guilt and regret as he sits by your bedside in the infirmary of Jujutsu High. During each daily visit, he sits beside you for hours on end, silently clutching your hand and staring at your unconscious form. Each day that passes without you waking up is a day of torture for him.

He slowly watches your chest rise and fall with each shallow breath, his expression a mixture of guilt and worry as he constantly replays the memory of your last conversation together. It was a stupid fight, and he regrets every harsh word that was exchanged between the two of you. He will not accept it – will not accept that those will be the last words he speaks to you.

Satoru desperately wishes he could take it all back, to beg you to forgive him. But for now, all he can do is sit by your bedside, waiting for you to wake up as he prays for you to pull through. He longs so much for you to open your eyes and look at him again, to hear your voice. The thought of losing you is unbearable for him, and he's willing to do anything to make sure it never happens.

As consciousness slowly comes back to you, you find yourself staring at the familiar white ceiling of Jujutsu High's infirmary, the gentle hum of the ceiling fan and the pristine cleanliness of the room confirming your location. Soft voices can be heard talking in the room, but they sound muffled and indistinct, the words difficult to make out.

You take a second to gather your bearings, your mind fuzzy and disoriented. It takes a moment for you to realize that the voices belong to none other than Satoru and Shoko. They continue their conversation in hushed tones, not noticing you regaining your consciousness. Their soft and indistinct words blend together in a low murmur.

You can tell that Satoru’s voice is laced with worry, his words carrying immense desperation. "It's been days now...why isn't she waking up?"

"She's been through a lot. Her body needs time to recover." Shoko’s voice is calm and steady.

Your body feels weak and fatigued as you struggle to sit up in the bed. Your muscles barely respond to your commands as you only manage to fumble around the mattress feebly. The shuffling of your bedsheets causes Shoko and Satoru to immediately take notice of your movement, their conversation coming to a halt as they turn their attention towards you.

They both rush to your side, faces filled with relief and concern. Shoko is the first to act, her eyes widening as she sees you weakly attempt to sit up. With a firm touch, she gently pushes you back down onto the bed.

"Don't try to sit up too quickly," she warns, her voice stern. "You're weak and battered, your body needs time to recover."

Satoru is beside you in an instant, his hand gently resting on your own, tracing soft circles.

"You’re awake,” he exhales. “Take it easy, don't overexert yourself."

Shoko checks your vitals, her hands moving quickly and efficiently as she assesses your condition. "How are you feeling?"

You turn to Satoru and can see the concern etched in his features. Your heart sinks, immediately recounting the last time you saw his face – the coldness in his icy eyes. And now this look he is giving you – you can’t help but feel disappointed in yourself. Despite everything that happened, you always have hated causing him to worry. In an attempt to hide your slight discomfort, you give him a strained smile. “A bit… groggy. Just feels like I have a really bad hangover.”

Shoko can't help but roll her eyes and snort at your comment, her expression a mixture of relief and sarcasm. "Only you would compare recovering from near-death to a hangover."

Satoru gives a small, flicker of a smile at your attempt to lighten the mood, but the worry still lingers in his eyes. "You gave us quite a scare," he mutters with a huff of a chuckle, "but I suppose it's good to see your sarcastic wit is still intact."

As Shoko continues checking your vitals, her hands move with practiced ease, maneuvering around the hospital bed with urgency and poise. "Honestly, you're lucky to be alive y/n. You sustained quite a lot of damage."

You feel Satoru’s grip on your hand tighten a fraction, his eyebrows furrowing at Shoko’s comment. "Are you in any pain? Do you remember what happened?”

“I’m not experiencing pain, my body just feels weak,” you rest your head back on the infirmary’s stiff pillow and look up at the ceiling fan – your mind spinning just as much as it while you try to recall the events that happened. What did happen? You remember arguing with Satoru and then... nothing. Just a fog of uncertainty. Your eyebrows furrow as sadness washes over you – though you can’t recall what triggers this emotion, your body responds on its own volition. “I remember pieces… I think... it’s a bit of a haze.”

Satoru’s eyes narrow as he picks up your somber expression. He squeezes your hand gently, his thumb brushing against your knuckles with warmth. "Pieces, hmm?" he mutters.

You feel Shoko’s hands move quickly but gently over your body as she continues your check-up.

"That's not unusual," she says. "Trauma can sometimes cause memory gaps. Especially considering what you've been through."

As she finishes, she takes a step back, a small sigh escaping her lips, clutching her clipboard as she charts your vitals. "You'll be weak and tired for a while. The pain will probably come later, once your body fully registers what it's been through.” Her eyes flicker up to you and Satoru as she breaks her focus from her notes. “I need to report your condition to Principal Yaga. Gojo, will you watch over her in the meantime?"

Satoru nods, his gaze never leaving your face. "Yeah, of course."

The door closes behind Shoko with a soft thud, leaving you and Satoru alone in the infirmary. He remains seated in the chair beside your bed and his hands do not waver from yours – the soothing circles not stopping. You feel that with each gentle brush of his fingertips, he is touching you as if you are the most delicate thing in his life.

The silence that falls between you both is heavy. There is still a lingering sting in your heart at the sight of Satoru. You cannot shake the image of that once cold stare of his, the one he directed directly at you during your argument – and his words, the way he claimed that your shared passion meant nothing to him… it replays in your head constantly like a broken record.

Yet despite it all, despite all that was said and done, you undeniably wanted him by your side. Feeling conflicted, it is clear there is much that needs to be said, but neither of you speak up for a few moments. It is ultimately Satoru who breaks the silence, his voice soft and low, barely above a whisper.

"You scared the crap out of me. Don't ever do that again."

“Guess I caused you trouble again…huh?” unable to hide the somber tone in your voice, you force a smile in hopes to mask it.

"I'm not worried about the trouble you cause," he mutters, his voice laced with both irritation and affection. "I'm worried about you, dummy."

You blink as he squeezes your hand gently, his gaze softening as he fixes it on your features. He braces himself with a deep breath. "You've always caused me trouble. But I'd rather deal with a lifetime's worth of trouble than lose you," releasing an exhale – his voice evokes vulnerability as you hear it tremble slightly.

"I know I've been an ass... and I know my words have hurt you... but the thought of losing you... it..." shutting his eyes and pursing his lips, he struggles to find the right word to express his feelings, his emotions getting the best of him.

"I..." He pauses, his snowy lashes fluttering open as his gaze locks with yours – eyes blue with sorrow. "I'm sorry. For the way I acted and what I said. The fear I felt when I found you in that village, hurt and unconscious... it was a waking nightmare."

Satoru reaches out his free hand and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your forehead, his fingers lingering on your skin for a moment, caressing your face tenderly.

"You have no idea… how much you mean to me," he murmurs, "I don't know what I'd do without you... I can’t lose… this." He intertwines his fingers with yours, his grip on your hand tightening just a fraction.

Your heart flutters at his honesty. His hands are a bit clammy upon yours – is he nervous? You’ve never seen him be so vulnerable with you. You look down at your hand, intertwined with his, and shift your gaze back to meet his own.

“And what exactly is, this, Satoru?” you whisper, a slight tremble in your voice. “I’m so confused. You constantly send me mixed signals.”

Satoru swallows hard at your question, his hand still holding onto yours tightly, as if holding onto you for dear life. He hesitates for a moment, struggling to articulate his feelings and thoughts.

After giving him a moment, you continue “You need to let me in. I can’t understand how you feel unless you tell me.”

“This… us,” he murmurs, his voice strained with emotion. “Honestly, I don't know what we are either. I can't define it, but I know how I feel about you... and it scares me.”

He releases a shaky exhale, his gaze breaking from you momentarily as he looks away. "You're right, I know I've been giving you mixed signals. But every time I tried to get closer, something held me back. Letting people in... it's not something I'm good at."

You feel his grip on your hand tighten, his thumb gently stroking the skin on the back of your knuckles as he slowly adverts his eyes back to your own. "But you're right... I need to let you in. You deserve to know... everything." He pauses, his eyes searching your face as he chooses his next words carefully. "The truth is, I love you... I've loved you for a long time. And it terrifies me." Satoru’s confession hangs in the air, his words ringing with raw honesty.

His eyes soften as he watches you take it in. "I didn't want to admit it... even to myself," he whispers. "I thought if I kept my distance, if I played it cool, I could protect you from the danger that comes with loving me. But the truth is... I'm not good at staying away from you."

He gently brushes a tear from your cheek that you hadn't even realized had fallen.

Reaching up, you lightly place your free hand upon his. You can feel the warmth of his skin against yours, his pulse pounding slightly faster than usual. As you stare into his blue eyes filled with a mixture of love, fear, and vulnerability, you finally speak the words that have been ringing in your mind since your fight.

“You… when you picked me up from the bar. What we did… you said it didn’t mean anything,” you feel your voice tremble slightly as you try to prevent any more tears from falling.

Satoru’s gaze flickers momentarily as guilt and regret flash across his face. His eyes shift away from yours, unable to hold your hurt gaze as the memory of his harsh words come back to him.

"I was a bastard," he mutters under his breath, his eyes averted from your own as his white tousles hide his shame. "Those words... they were a lie. What we did... what we shared...” he pulls his gaze back up to meet your own, “it meant everything to me.”

"I was trying to protect myself... protect you... by pushing you away. But the truth is...” He sighs heavily, his fingers fidgeting with yours as he searches for the right words to say, finally letting out a defeated groan. “God, I wanted you more than anything in that moment. I still do. I was scared... and I thought if I pretended it didn’t matter, it would be easier to keep my distance.”

The raw honesty in Satoru’s confession causes your chest to tighten. The words you’ve desperately wanted to hear, his words, cut through any lingering doubt in your heart. The truth of his feelings and his vulnerability laid bare before you – you feel the tears well up in your eyes. Damnit, you can’t hold them back anymore.

You close your eyes and take a deep breath, shuddering as you try to compose yourself. When you open your eyes to meet his, your voice is soft yet firm. “You hurt me, Satoru. Your words... they stung.”

"I know," he mutters softly, strained with guilt. "And I'm sorry. I'm so sorry for hurting you. I was an idiot, a coward. I should've told you the truth from the start.” He swallows heavily, his throat bobbing with the weight of his emotions. “I hope you can forgive me, though I know I don’t deserve your forgiveness… so I understand if you can’t.”

With a shaky exhale, you sniffle and wipe your tears – your lips curl into a half smile. “I’m the real idiot… can’t believe I fell in love with such a fool.”

Satoru’s face transforms at your words, his eyes widening slightly and a flicker of hope igniting within them. The tension in his shoulder’s eases slightly as a wry smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

“But don’t think you’re off the hook. You’ve got a lot of making it up to me to do. I won’t go easy on you Satoru Gojo.”

“Oh, I know you won’t make it easy on me. You never do,” He lets out a small laugh, a mixture of disbelief and relief. He brings your hand up to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss against your knuckles.

“Believe me, I know I'll have to work my ass off to earn your forgiveness. But I’m up for the challenge. I’m gonna make sure you never doubt how I feel about you ever again. I’ll do whatever it takes,” he vows, his voice filled with determination. “I’ll grovel, beg, whatever it takes to make up for my idiotic behavior.”

“The world’s strongest sorcerer on his knees for me? Now that is a sight I can get used to,” you snort and can’t help but give him a smug smirk.

Gojo huffs at your comment, rolling his eyes playfully while he pretends to take offense at your words. "Hey, careful there, I have an image to maintain," his brows furrow dramatically as he teases you with a mock hurt voice.

Pleased with his dramatics, you let out an infectious laugh – a wide smile expands across Satoru’s lips, the sound is like music to his ears. He truly missed your laugh.

“Oh, I’m going to enjoy this,” you snicker.

“Careful, princess,” he warns mockingly. “Don’t rile me up too much otherwise I might actually have to fulfill that fantasy for you.” His voice lowers to a sultry whisper, “I have no problem getting on my knees for you in other contexts. But trust me, I'll find a way to make you kneel for me too.”

You feel the warmth rise up to your cheeks as your eyes widen. “S-Satoru!” you pull away from him and whine as you bring your hands to your face, attempting to hide your embarrassment. He snickers gleefully, his eyes gleaming with mischief – he knows exactly how to get to you, and he's enjoying every second of it. “You’re being unfair. Shut up and help me up from this bed, would you?” you pout.

Unable to keep the shit eating grin off his face, a low chuckle escapes his lips. “Aww, you’re just too fun to tease. But alright, alright. As you wish, my princess.” Satoru lifts himself from his seat and nears you on the bed. He reaches down to gently pull the infirmary’s bedsheets off of you and his gaze drifts down to your damaged body.

His grin fades as he takes in the sight of your battered form, his heart clenching with worry. He can see the extent of your injuries more clearly now. The burns, the bruises, and the bandages covering a widespread of significant wounds. “Hey... are you sure you should be getting up? You're hurt pretty badly, love."

Looking down at your own wounded frame, it’s as if suddenly everything hit you all at once. You feel a lingering pain begin to course throughout you – your body finally registering what it’s been through. The extent of your injuries causes you to wince slightly in discomfort.

The helplessness of your condition causes a wave of frustration to wash over you. You hate being like this – you’ve always tried to keep up with Satoru and Suguru, and you know that him seeing you like this is going to cause him to worry even more. "I know," you whisper back with a strained voice. "But I can't just lay here all day. I feel so... hopeless. I want to get up and move, even just a little. Sitting around doing nothing is going to drive me insane."

Satoru studies your face as he hesitates for a moment – Shoko did say you need time to recover, but he’s always had a hard time saying no when he sees that determined look in your eyes. He knows trying to keep you in bed against your will is futile – you’ve always been unbelievably stubborn when you set your mind to something – it's one of the things he finds both endearing and frustrating about you. Finally relenting, he gives in with a resigned sigh and reluctant nod.

"I understand," he says, his voice gentle yet firm. "How about we try walking a few steps first to see how you feel. But if you start to feel faint or dizzy, you have to promise to tell me, alright? You're not going to do yourself any favors if you push yourself too hard too soon."

“I’ll be fine,” you insist, though you can hear the uncertainty in your own voice. “I won’t sit here doing nothing.”

Satoru carefully helps you sit up, gently slipping an arm behind your back as he takes your arm and wraps it around his own shoulder for support. His hands slowly and gently guide you into a comfortable position and his body feels warm and firm against yours, providing a support for you to lean on. As he slowly ushers you to the edge of the bed, you feel a tinge of soreness in your body, but it’s nothing unbearable.

"Just take it slow, okay?" he murmurs. "And you better tell me if you need to rest, no pushing through it."

With a gentle pull, Satoru helps you to your feet. As you take a subtle step off the bed, you cannot help but wince slightly the moment your weight drops to the ground. A lingering pain shoots throughout your body, but you bite the inside of your cheek, attempting to distract yourself and muster through it. You refuse to admit it – refuse to let him worry too much.

"How do you feel? Is the pain bearable?" his brow lifts as he examines you, his voice laced with concern.

"Just a bit sore," you say, trying to brush it off. "It’s fine. I need to move around anyways, stretch my muscles."

He huffs at your response, shaking his head slightly. "You're not fooling anyone, you know. I can tell you're in pain, my Six Eyes don’t lie, sweetheart. You’re wincing and we haven’t even taken a single step yet.”

You roll your eyes at his concern and groan with a strained voice. "Satoru, I feel weak, not broken… just help me get to that chair over there.”

Satoru lets out an exasperated sigh. "You're stubborn as hell, you know that?” he grumbles as his grip on you tightens. “But alright, if you're determined to make this difficult, I'll help you walk to the damn chair."

The journey to the chair feels like an eternity, each step causing a pained wince to escape your lips as Satoru carefully helps you with each tender step. His unwavering grip supports your weakened body and his gentle arms guide you into the infirmary’s seat slowly. Settling into the chair, you let out a loud exhale as your tense body begins to relax from the alleviating pressure.

Satoru’s own relieved breath escapes his mouth the moment you sit down as well – his hands lingering on your frame for a moment, as if not wanting to let you go just yet. He kneels down in front of you, his expression softening as he observes your fatigued form.

Taking in the lines of pain etched on your face, Satoru runs a gentle hand over your hair, his fingers tenderly brushing through the locks in a soothing motion. "There," he whispers, "You did good, you stubborn idiot. Now can you finally admit that you’re hurting?”

You close your eyes for a moment, relishing in the comforting feeling of his fingers flowing through each tousle despite his snarky comment. As you lean into his hand, for a brief moment, the pain seems to fade away.

"No, I..." you waver, losing the energy to put up this front. As much as you hate to admit it, you can’t combat how worn out you feel – your own stubborn attitude finally begins to yield. Opening your eyes, you give Satoru a sidelong glance, your eyes meeting his for a moment before you let out a soft sigh. “Fine. I admit it. I'm hurting… a lot.”

Satoru flashes a wry grin at your admission, a small sense of victory dancing within his eyes. "Took you long enough," he teases, still gently stroking your waves as his fingers tangle in your locks, giving you a gentle tug. "See, was that so hard? Admitting you're in pain is the first step to recovery, you know."

You exhale and release a slight chuckle – although you loathed being in this state, you had comfort knowing Satoru was here to take care of you. But as the breath escapes your mouth, you are suddenly met with a sharp discomforting twinge upon your abdomen. Flinching from the pain, you shuffle to readjust your position in the chair.

Satoru’s expression turns serious as his brow furrows with concern – he watches your body betray the strength you’re adamantly trying to cling onto. After withdrawing his hand from your head, he rests it gently on your knee. “Where does it hurt the most?”

“Right…here.” Lifting up your shirt slightly, you observe Satoru’s eyes widen, his hand on your knee clenching involuntarily as you reveal your abdomen – the bandages wrapped around you are stained in blood.

You grimace as the cool air hits the wetness of your blood-stained body and Satoru’s expression grows more serious. "Jesus," he mutters under his breath, his jaw clenching. "We need to have Shoko change your bandages… y/n, what did this to you? What the hell happened? Was it a curse?"

“I…” you hesitate, suddenly it feels like your head is spinning – the lack of blood making you just as light headed as the thick fog sheathing your memory. You lift your hand to your temple and close your eyes, furrowing your brow and pursing your lips as you desperately try to put the pieces together. Although your memories are hazy, you vaguely recall being with Suguru.

Satoru gently takes your hand in his, his touch firm yet tender. "Hey, take it easy," he says softly. "Don't strain yourself. Let’s take it nice and slow, okay? Can you tell me where you were last? Do you remember anything that happened beforehand?"

You nod slowly, swallowing hard. Images of the dim atmosphere, the sound of the calming music, the aroma of delicious cuisine – they all start to come back to you.  “I… I remember getting dinner with Suguru. I think he took me to a village.”

Satoru’s expression tightens at the mention of Suguru's name. He can feel a pang of jealousy in his chest, but he quickly pushes it aside, his concern for you taking precedence over his own feelings. Why wasn’t Suguru there then? He needed more answers.

“Yes, Koji village,” he echoes. “That’s the location you sent me on your phone, it’s where I found you unconscious. You were with him...? What happened then? Do you remember anything after dinner?”

You take a moment to recollect your thoughts – suddenly your eyes widen in shock and your lower lip begins to quiver. Was your mind playing tricks on you? The gruesome imagine of Suguru killing civilians, the visual of blood splattering on him, the smell of burning flesh, the screams, the empty look in his eyes. It becomes too much – you feel your body begin to tremble uncontrollably.

Satoru’s eyes narrow as he watches the color drain from your face. He can see the realization and horror in your eyes, and he knows you are remembering something awful. He rests his hands on your shoulders and rubs them soothingly, trying to ease your shaking frame.

"Hey, hey," he repeats, his voice softer this time. "It's alright. You don't have to recount everything that happened. Take your time, I'm right here with you."

You were on the brink of breaking down. You feel a tear start to fall down your cheek, your breaths coming in ragged – no control over your body, over your emotions. A high-pitched ringing sound begins to buzz in your ears as the sounds around you drown out. Were… you having a panic attack? You stare at Satoru in shock, his lips are moving as he tries to call your name, but you can barely hear him, can barely focus – the images were overwhelming you.

Satoru’s heart clenches in his chest as he sees the tremors wracking your body. He's never seen you like this before, so vulnerable and terrified. He squeezes your hand gently, trying to keep you grounded while his other hand tenderly cups your face, his thumb brushing away your tears.

"Hey, hey, focus on me," he whispers. "Just take a deep breath. It's okay. You're safe now. I'm here. You're safe."

As the pace of your breath increases, you desperately try to cling to Satoru’s calm presence, but your trauma is formidable – you find your mind to be caught in a cycle of fear and pain. The tightness in your chest makes you begin to gasp, trying desperately to get air inside your lungs as sobs escape your throat.

"Baby, breathe," he urges, his voice low and soothing. "Take a deep breath. Just focus on me. I know it's hard, but you have to calm down. Can you do that for me?"

Satoru’s voice is steady, commanding, and filled with tenderness – a lifeline in the midst of your panic. He keeps his grip firm on your hands, anchoring you to reality. "In and out, alright?" he murmurs, his voice tinged with concern. "Just listen to my voice and breathe with me. In... and out."

Satoru begins to take slow, deep breaths, counting silently in his head – you mimic him, the breaths gradually bringing you back to the present. Once you begin to stabilize, Satoru lifts himself up to his knees, pulling you close to him until your head is resting against his chest. His arms envelop your still shaking frame, holding you up as you regain control.

You continue to exhale into his chest, a tremble with each release. He holds you tightly against him, his hand stroking your hair in a soothing motion, waiting for your emotions to settle completely. The room is filled with only the sound of your breathing and the steady beat of his heart. He silently holds you for a long moment – once he feels the tremors in your body subside, you pull away and your eyes connect.

Slightly releasing his hold, Satoru’s hands still rest on your shoulders, a silent assurance that he's still there, still close. His expression is filled with concern as he studies you – although your face is etched with sadness, he is relieved that your breathing is steady now and your tears have subsided.

"You alright?" he asks softly. "Can you talk to me now?"

“Yes,” you whisper, voice still slightly trembling. “I remember everything now.”

Satoru takes a moment to absorb your words, his jaw tensing slightly as he senses the turmoil behind them. He knows whatever you're about to say isn't going to be easy. He takes your hand again, his fingers stroking your palm gently as he gives you a soft nod. "Okay. Tell me… everything."

“The village,” you murmur, your words feeling immensely heavy. “Suguru killed them all… and he almost killed me.”

Satoru blinks at you in disbelief – his eyes widening as he hears your words, his grip on your hand tightening. Did he hear you correctly?

"What?" his voice barely above a whisper. "Suguru… did that?”

Satoru takes a deep breath trying to calm his racing thoughts. Suguru – his closest friend. There is no way… he can't believe what he's hearing, but the look on your face is telling him that you're not lying. A mixture of shock and anger begin to bubble up within him.

"He almost… what?" his tone becomes sharp as a low growl emanates his throat – his eyes flicker down to your battered body briefly. "He hurt you?"

You swallow hard and nod, your eyes studying Satoru’s own as you can see the hurt pooling behind them. You are unsure where to begin – unsure if you have the willpower to even relive it, because speaking about it feels like it will make it true. You desperately wanted it not to be true – for this to be some terrible nightmare.

The intense gaze that you share with Satoru abruptly snaps apart, interrupted from the infirmary door swinging open – Shoko and Yaga enter the room swiftly. In that moment, Satoru’s expression darkens further, his first clenching in disbelief as Yaga confirms the worst.

“Y/n, pardon the intrusion. I was just given a report from a survivor at Koji village. We were told that Geto Suguru massacred the entire village. He has been missing for days.”

∘₊✧

Your recovery period is by no means lonely – Satoru is constantly by your side after hearing the news. He can’t help but feel high strung knowing Suguru is missing. He wants to be there to protect you at all costs.

Throughout the passing days, you can see how worn-out Satoru’s become. Though he tries to hide it, the exhaustion in his features are prevalent, the bags under his sapphire eyes grow darker with each passing day. Despite his fatigue, he doesn't complain, not once does he even mention how tired he is, but you undoubtably know. So much is expected of Satoru, him being the strongest and all, yet rather than going home to sleep he chooses to come to the infirmary after his duties, immediately slumping into the chair next to your bed with his normally immaculate hair looking disheveled.

Shortly after Yaga confirmed Suguru’s crimes, as hard as it was, you filled Satoru in on all the details of what had happened – including the conversation that you shared with Suguru before he began spilling blood. Satoru’s worst fears were confirmed. The realization that Suguru would target you, knowing that you were his Achilles heel – it crushed him and shook him to the core.

Satoru always knew deep down that you were his greatest weakness, anyone who wanted to hurt or control him could easily do so by targeting you – hence why he would always push you away in the past. But now, hearing that his friend, someone he trusted, would exploit that fact… it leaves him with a bitter taste of betrayal. Suguru knew that if Satoru joined his ambition, his dreams could become reality – after all, Satoru is the strongest, nobody would be capable of stopping them.

Mustering through ten tiresome days of physical therapy, vitals, medication and bland hospital food, your recovery is at long last within reach. You’re able to move easily now, with your strength finally returning to you, but this also makes you all the more restless – you are ready to get out of this dreaded hospital bed.

“Looks like you’re free to go!” Shoko looks down at her clipboard and back up at you smiling.

The words you’ve been itching to hear. A wide grin spreads across your face from your unreserved delight – you were so excited to finally go home. Your eyes instantly flicker over at Satoru sitting beside the infirmary bed. He stands up from his chair, stretching out his limbs slightly, and a small smirk crosses his lips as he meets your gaze. "Ready to get out of here, princess?"

Beaming in excitement, you spring up from the edge of your bed with an unwavering grin and leap into Satoru’s arms, feeling the rumble of his low chuckle as his warmth engrosses you in an embrace. Lifting your head up from where it was buried in his chest, you meet his eyes. “Please, get me the hell out of here.”

He grins down at you, his eyes sparkling with affection. "As you wish," he declares. With you still in his arms, he turns to Shoko and nods his thanks. "We'll be taking our leave now. Thanks for everything, Shoko."

“Right then,” she muses. As Shoko turns to leave, she hums and flashes you both a sheepish grin. You can feel her eyeing the two of you with a curious expression. Ah, that’s right – she hasn't been filled in on the details of what's happened… you never did get the chance to tell her about how your relationship has blossomed with Satoru. Later, you think.

After the door clicks shut behind Shoko, Satoru holds you close, his grip firm yet gentle – lifting his free hand, he prepares to wave his hand sign to teleport. “Here we go,” he mutters into your ear, his breath warm against your skin. “Don’t throw up this time, okay?”

You laugh and roll your eyes – that night, when he teleported you eagerly, it felt like a lifetime ago after everything you’ve been through. “Very funny,” you say sarcastically. “Yeah well, I’m not drunk this time Satoru.”

"True, you're not drunk,” he barks out a laugh. “So, hopefully, I won't have to hold your hair back this time, sweetheart."

You huff and shake your head at his teasing while he adjusts his grip a little more firmly around your waist. "Hold on tight, princess. You know the drill."

You nod, and the sensation of being pulled in all direction’s envelopes your body – you feel yourself thrust through eternity, and with a blink of an eye, there you are in your apartment. Your gaze flickers from the sofa to the kitchen, to the small collection of photographs and trinkets scattered around the space. It is peaceful and quiet – undisturbed, just as you left it.

He watches as you look around the familiar surroundings, a small sigh escaping his lips. His grip releases slightly as he allows you to stand on your own – but his hands remain on your waist with a lingering touch.

“Home sweet home,” he murmurs, his gaze fixed on your face with a relaxed smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “Feels good, huh? Miss it?”

You exhale your own sigh of relief, slightly pulling away from him. “Yeah. I for one can’t wait to take a bath. The infirmary’s quarters are nothing to ride home about.”

Satoru chuckles at your comment, his eyes full of amusement. "Oh, princess, if you think you're going to get a peaceful bath, you're mistaken."

His smirk widens as he pulls you closer to him, his arm sliding around your waist while his lips brush against the shell of your ear, "You think I'm letting you out of my sight for even a second after everything that's happened?"

Satoru’s words send a shiver down your spine, his breath warm against your ear, his voice low and seductive. “S-Satoru!” you whine. As he watches a flush of heat rise up your cheeks from his words, a low chuckle rumbles in his chest.

"You honestly think I'm going to let you have a peaceful bath when I haven't felt you in weeks?” he purrs, his voice dripping with honey. “Let you soak in the hot water all alone, when I could be there with you, hands roaming across your skin, touching you in all the right places? Come on, sweetheart. We never did finish what we started last time…”

He leans in closer, his lips hovering just millimeters away from yours. His face is so close that you can feel his hot breath dance upon your skin, his body pressed against yours, the heat radiating off of him in waves. You can see the desire swimming in his eyes, the way his gaze rakes over your face, as if he can't get enough of you.

As his lips begin to graze the edge of your jawline, you mewl – the feather-light kisses against your skin trailing down you as he carves a gentle path towards the crook of your neck. Your arms wrap around him, pulling him closer as you clench the fabric of his shirt. Dipping your head back, you invite his kisses to deepen as you expose more of your flesh for him to feast on.

He pauses for a moment, inhaling deeply, before his lips slightly part and his tongue flicks out, trailing a wet path along your pulse point. “S-Satoru..” your breath flutters, and he feels the rapid beat of your heart against his mouth.

A low groan emanates from his throat as he can feel the heat rising on you – God he’s been craving this. He pulls you even tighter against him, his hands gripping your curves, fingers digging into the skin underneath your thin skirt as he presses his hips into yours.

He begins to nibble at your neck, his teeth grazing your sensitive flesh as he sucks, leaving small marks while his hands slide to grip and caress the plush of your ass. “Wh-What’s gotten into you?” you moan breathily as the aching need between your legs begins to pool from his touch.

He pulls away and rests his forehead against yours, his eyes darkened with desire as he looks into your own. “You,” he whispers gruffly. “It’s all you. You drive me crazy, princess.” His gaze is smoldering and his lips are tantalizingly close to yours.

Closing the distance, your lips capture his in a deep, passionate kiss. His arms trail down your waist, snaking under your thighs as he effortlessly pulls you up. You press your chest flush against his own as he holds you, deepening your kiss as you wrap your legs around him and his hands grip your backside.

Satoru’s tongue explores your mouth in a heated frenzy as he carries you across the room and towards your bedroom. Your kiss is frenetic, as if each crash between your lips is insatiable. He halts his stride through the hallway to the bedroom as he presses you against a wall for a moment, his body pinning you there as he kisses you hungrily. You arch your back against him, your fingers tangling in his messy ivory hair as you feel a hand glide up your shirt, gripping your supple breast firmly. He groans into your mouth, his cock throbbing as his body responds to kissing you, touching you – the tension between you thick and electric.

He pulls away, breath mingling with yours, his chest heaving against you as he looks down at your kindled expression. "Fuck, I missed you. You're driving me crazy," he growls, "I've been waiting patiently for you to recover, I can’t wait any longer.”

As he collides his lips back against yours, his grip adjusts on you, allowing you to feel his length twitch between your legs. The pressure of him against your clothed core makes you desperately crave more contact as you increase the pace of your sloppy kisses with heavy breathes. Once you enter your bedroom, he swiftly throws you onto the bed, following quickly after as his body looms over you.

He stares down at you with a hunger – tousles of his disarranged hair hanging down as his icy blue eyes sweep over you, raking in the sight of your lips, plump and swollen as they glisten from the remnants of your shared kiss. You feel your heart thudding against your ribcage like a maddened drum as your chest rises and falls, the heat radiating from your body.

“Don’t hold back ‘toru,” you mewl while you slide your hands up his chest and down his broad shoulders. “I need you so bad.”

A low growl escapes him as your words reach his ears, your plea pushing him even further over the edge. "Oh princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough, "You have no idea how long I've been holding back. I won’t. I won’t hold back now."

He lowers himself to you, lifting your shirt off of you as he begins trailing kisses upon your abdomen. Once his lips reach the hem of your skirt, his fingers begin to play along the trim of the fabric. His touch is slow and deliberate as he pulls it down, exposing your black laced underwear, already soaked from the pooling warmth between your thighs.

His breath hitches at the sight, and he lets out a low growl, “Fuck.” His body responds intensely as he feels himself throb at the sight of you. "You’re soaking wet," he murmurs. "I've been aching to touch you for so long."

You shiver from the sensation of his breath dancing on your thighs while he peppers kisses up them, until finally his lips are met with your clothed center. "Can’t stop thinking of last time.. I’m desperate to feel you against me, to hear your sweet moans," his voice is sultry as he slowly runs his fingers up and down your inner thighs, tantalizingly close to your core.

Each time he pulls away, you groan in frustration, your hips buckling forward and that tingling ache between your legs, eager for him to touch you. “Satoru, please... need you to touch me.”

With a low hum of approval, he leans in, his lips hovering just millimeters away from the spot you ache for him most. "Well, what’s this? So needy… are you begging for me?" a smirk playing on his lips. "Go on then. Use your words sweetheart," he purrs as his fingers tease the edge of your underwear, his touch feather-light. “Tell me what you want. Need to hear you say it.”

A shiver of anticipation runs through your body as he leans in, your body trembling with a shockwave of desire as his fingers trace intimate patterns against your skin. A moan escapes your lips, your breath hitching as you cry out, “Fuck, ‘toru. Please, please. Touch me, I need you. Can’t wait any longer..”

He grins in response to your pleading, his expression smug and satisfied as he revels in your desperation. "Hmm..." he hums, his fingers pulling your underwear down to expose your pretty folds. "Begging suits you, you know. Told you’d I’d have you begging for me.”

As you lay bare before him, he relishes at the sight of you dripping with arousal. “Fuck, you’re so pretty. Didn’t get a good look last time. Been eager to taste you.” He inhales and licks a long strip across your cunt up to your sensitive bud. A needy moan escapes your lips and your hips shutter under him as his warm breath murmurs against your entrance.

Your moan is like music to his ears, sending a shiver down his spine and making his length grow, pressing firmly against the fabric of his pants. He grips your hips and buries his face deep within you, as if trying to mold you against him. You can’t help but moan more, breathless while his tongue works extensively, exploring every inch of your womanhood, wanting to ingrain the taste of you into his memory.

Arching your back, you look down at him to be met with his gaze, intense, almost feral – a gaze that could set fire to the room. The hunger within him is barely contained as he drinks you in like a man deprived of water. Each flick of his tongue causes a primal need to pulse through his veins and shoot to his cock, throbbing and desperate to claim you.

He pulls back for a brief moment, panting slightly as he rakes in your flushed face, painted in pleasure as your chest rises and falls with ragged breaths. A smirk plays on his lips – lips glistening with your essence. "You taste so good.” With a devious glint in his eyes, he reaches down to your sensitive bud. Your eyes flutter shut in pleasure and a moan escapes your mouth as he begins to massage your clit with soft, circular motions. “Enjoying yourself?" he muses, his voice low and sultry.

“Feels good ‘toru,” you manage to gasp out. “Please… more.”

His smirk widens as he hears your breathless pleas, his fingers continuing their gentle torture on your sensitive button. "Good girl," he murmurs, his voice thick with satisfaction. "I’ll give you all the pleasure you deserve." He pushes his face between your legs again, his tongue dancing in your slit as he softly sucks and laps in your nectar.

You grip onto his head, your fingers pulling at his snowy locks while you plunge him further into you, rocking your hips upon his face, his nose rubbing against your vibrating clit. He lets out a low groan at your sudden fervor, and he feels his cock ache hard, almost unbearable, as it presses against his pants. Fuck, he loved it when you used his face like this. His tongue works quicker, matching the pace of your movements as you grind completely on top of him.

“Fuckfuckfuck, ‘toru. Don’t you dare stop, ‘m so close,” your voice trembles as your pitch rises – your vision goes blurry as the pressure builds below from your nearing peak. Your grip on his hair tightens and you are relentless with your movements, wanting so desperately to come undone on top of him – feeling like you’re ready to burst.

"Cum f’ me, princess," he murmurs, his voice breathless and gravelly as it vibrates against you. It brings you over the edge as you arch your back and rock intensely on top of his pretty face, rubbing it vigorously against your clit. Your pace ascends with each ardor movement – the tension within your core becomes unbearable, until finally, shivering and writhing in ecstasy as your toes curl and you moan his name, you cum on top of him. He lets out a deep strangled groan as he feels your walls tremble against him and the weight of your pleasure floods into him while you release yourself into his mouth. He drinks it all in, savoring each drop of your essence like sweet sweet honey.

When he pulls back with a satisfied grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, he admires your trembling figure, basking in the lingering waves of pleasure that ripple throughout your body. His own breath is ragged and his azure eyes are darkened with desire, yet glimmering with satisfaction as he licks his lips, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“You look so beautiful when you cum for me,” he murmurs, “Could watch you all day, princess. We’re just getting started.”

You close your eyes for a moment as you attempt to catch your breath, but they instantly flutter open as you hear the sound of fabric shuffling. You watch as Satoru sheds his shirt, revealing his sculpted torso – his muscles flexing with each movement. He fumbles with the belt of his pants, his hands desperate and impatient to free his aching length. The buckle clinks softly as he releases it from the loop and Satoru lets out a sigh of relief as he unleashes himself from the confines of his pants.

Biting your lip, you cannot take your eyes off of him. His evident erection throbs in front of you. You can’t believe how big it is. It’s girth thick, it’s length long with a flushed red tip, glistening from a pooling drop of precum, aching to be touched.

Satoru grips his length, rubbing the slit of his head as the bottom of his thumb slides over the bead of clear liquid. He pumps himself slowly a few times in preparation, his words dripping with confidence as he promises, “I’m going to make you scream my name.”

A hand sinks on the mattress beside your head, bracing himself as he leans in closer. His body is coiled with need and tense with anticipation, his muscles rippling beneath his skin as he holds himself over you and strokes his cock, inching it closer to your cunt. He gazes down at you intently, his eyes dark and full of desire as he takes in the sight of your flushed body lying underneath him.

You feel the head of his erection circle around your lower lips, teasing you with brief moments of collision before momentarily pulling back. As he rubs himself against your already sensitive clit, a soft gasp escapes your mouth and you moan sweetly, squirming underneath him as you feel the heat and wetness of your combined passion beginning to blend together at your entrance.

His breath hitches and his grip on the sheets tighten as he leans closer. "So sensitive for me, princess," his breath is hot against your ear, dripping with desire. "You feel so good under me like this. I want to hear all of your moans as I bring you to the brink of ecstasy.”

His hips continue their gentle press against yours, his movements a delicious tease that borders on the edge of pleasure and frustration as he heightens the friction upon your reactive clit. Your body trembles beneath him with every touch, “Please ‘toru,” you whimper, “I’ve been wanting you inside me. Please, please fuck me.”

A low growl of approval escapes his lips at the sound of your begging – he pauses his movements, a mischievous glint in his eyes as he looks down at you, his arms caging both sides of your head now, trapping you beneath him as he stares down at you with lascivious hunger.

"Mmm, my sweet girl," he purrs, his tone laced with a mixture of affection and lust. “You begging me like that, it's driving me crazy. How can I say no when you ask so nicely?”

He moves closer, body pressing insistently against yours as he pushes your knees up to your chest. “I’ll give you exactly what you want, princess,” his voice dropping to a silky whisper. You arch your back as he finally sinks into you, thrusting his length into your cunt without any hesitance – parting your pretty folds as the warmth of him is welcomed against your plush wet walls.

The heat of his shaft is hot and his girth is eruptive, causing your breath to catch in your throat. You watch him shudder as he slides into you – a low rumble of satisfaction escaping his throat as your walls clamp down on his thick length. “Fuuck,” the words rolling off his tongue in a low growl, “you are so tight. God, you feel so good.”

A sharp gasp escapes your lips as he completely bottoms out inside of you. The heat of your combined passion melding together as you fully become one with him – his member pressing hard against your cervix.

“Nngh ‘toru… it’s big. Feel like I’m going to tear apart,” your body trembles beneath him and your gasps and moans are like a symphony of pleasure, fueling his own primal need. Your hands tangle in his hair, fingers brushing against his undercut and grasping for his ivory locks.

His head dips down, nose nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he relishes in the feeling of you wrapped around him. “I know baby, I know,” he breathes, his voice hot and damp against your skin, “But don’t worry you’re doing so good for me. Taking me so well.”

A shiver runs down your spine as he speaks, the deep timbre of his voice and the hunger in his words sending a jolt of pleasure through you – his words a mix of praise and desperation.

He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his hair falling over his forehead, framing his face in a wild untamed way while his gaze is filled with a fierce desire. "Gonna start moving now, sweetheart," he grumbles huskily, both a reassurance and a command. "You ready for me?"

Your eyes roll back as you feel his movements begin, slow and deliberate. His hands slide down your body, caressing your curves and gripping your hips, pulling you even closer against him. Breathy moans escape your lips as each thrust inside you has his cock kissing your cervix with insistent and measured pressure, causing you to arch your back even more against him.

Your pitch rises as your gasps fill the air, causing his own desire to surge with each needy sound echoing off the walls of your room. His hips grind in a steady, relentless rhythm as he rocks against you, his chest vibrating with a deep rumble of approval as he presses you into the mattress – clenching your hips tightly while his body envelops you. He takes deep trembling breaths as he relishes in the sounds of you writhing under him. Every shift of his body brings a new wave of pleasure to crash over you.

His eyes remain fixated on your face with each thrust, studying every expression and reaction. The heat from his skin sears against yours, each point of contact igniting a fresh wave of electricity through your body. He hungrily drinks in the sight of you, flushed and needy, your head thrown back in ecstasy. "God, you're so – ha – beautiful like this," he groans, his voice low and strangled. "So perfect."

He quickens the pace, his breath becoming strained as he increases the friction between your bodies, his own moans growing louder and more frenzied with each thrust as he feels his own desire driving him wild – his cock getter harder as he feels your pussy milk him, an overwhelming pressure building within him.

“Fuuuuck baby, fuck,” he manages to rasp out as his hands move to your chest, cupping your breasts as he begins to caress and kneed them, rubbing soft circles around your nipples, twisting and rolling them with his fingers. His own breath comes in short gasps as your hot wet walls consume his cock, squelching sounds filling the air with each thrust. He feels a desperate need boiling inside him – the need to fill you to the brim with his seed.

Every time he feels you tighten around him, he struggles more and more to hold back the overwhelming pleasure coiled within him. His strokes begin to become erratic, less controlled and more urgent. The slaps of your colliding bodies fill the air, along with your sweet whimpers and moans. A low growl escapes his lips as he captures your wrists in his hands, pinning them above your head against the bed. He leans in closer, his body hovering over you, his eyes locking with yours in a heated stare.

“S-Satoru…” you mewl.

“You like that?” he groans, biting gently onto your shoulder while grinding into you harder. “Fuuuck, I can feel you squeezing my dick...”

His increased pace creates a delicious friction that steals the breath from your lungs. You feel his cock rub against your clit with every thrust into you, the vibrations causing a shiver of pleasure to ripple through your body, relishing in the feeling of being completely full of him.

“Don’t stop… nngh, yesyesyes SatoruI’m so close.”

He grits his teeth as you continue to squeeze around him, your pussy milking him like an expert. With a low growl, he clutches your hips tighter and increases his pace even more, his hips moving with a primal rhythm that matches the beat of your hearts. His eyes flare with determination at your words, responding instantly to your pleas.

“Shit, your cunt is gonna be the death of me...” he groans loudly, feeling his orgasm building quickly within him. “Let go for me,” he growls, reaching down to tease your clit with his thumb. “Cum all over my cock baby...”

The sensation of his thumb on your clit brings you over the edge as you writhe in ecstasy. Your hands grip Satoru's back as your nails dig into his skin, carving down on his flesh as your plush walls clamp onto his cock - screaming his name as your essence coats his shaft with pleasure.

"Nnhh, oh fu-u-ck," he grits out, his voice choked and rough, his body shaking with pleasure from the sight of you, coming undone beneath him – the feeling of you covering his cock with your release, it’s enough to push Satoru over the edge.

With a strangled moan of pleasure, Satoru gives into the sensations overwhelming him – spilling his load deep inside you, plunging you with his hot sticky seed as ropes of white cum paint your insides. His cock pulses against your walls and he grunts as he rides out his orgasm, pumping his load until there was nothing left.

He looks down at you with a mixture of satisfaction and tenderness, his body heavy and spent as he tries to regain control of himself. He quivers with pleasure as he pulls out his sensitive limp cock, his thick white cum oozing out of you, dripping down your thighs.

"God, princess," he gasps, his voice thick with exhaustion. "You drive me wild." He collapses on top of you, his chest heaving against your own, his heartbeat rapid and erratic as he nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck.

Your panting breaths mingle together as you gently brush your fingers through Satoru’s hair, tenderly massaging his scalp while you hold him close. “Hmm,” a satisfied hum escapes you. “Guess I am your weakness.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, his breath warm, murmuring against your skin. "You figured it out.” Melting into your touch, Satoru holds you close and nestles himself further – embracing you as if he couldn’t bear to let you go, inhaling the scent of your skin. “You definitely are, always have been."

You both lay there for a moment, enjoying the warmth and comfort of each other’s bodies – but you can’t help but let your mind race a bit. Thoughts of Suguru tug at the corners of your mind. You haven’t mentioned him to Satoru since that night, when you told him about the crimes he committed. You had a strong desire to catch up to Satoru, you don’t want to be his weakness, his downfall. You want to stand beside him as an equal – you want him to come to rely on you just as you rely on him.

“Hey ‘toru…” you speak softly and seriously as you continue to run soothing circles on his scalp. “Whatever happens next… you don’t have to do it alone.”

His eyes flutter open as he feels the shift in your demeanor, the change in the air. He can sense the seriousness in your tone and the concern in your touch. He pulls back slightly to look into your eyes, his own gaze softening slightly at the worry he sees reflecting back at him. For a moment, he is silent, contemplating your words and the weight behind them.

Finally, he lets out a sigh and nods, his expression growing more pensive. "I know I don't have to," he says. "But it's not about me. It's about everyone else, about doing everything I can to protect them… to protect you."

A wry solemn smile tugs at the corners of your lips. Typical Satoru, putting himself last. There was no sense in arguing with him right now. Instead, you were going to work ever harder – to push yourself to catch up with him. One day you’d make him rely on you, and then you’d both face Suguru together. Shaking your head slightly as a sigh escapes your lips, you bring your hand to Satoru’s cheek as you softly caress his face. “You’re hopeless, you know that?”

He grins at your words, the corner of his lipa curling up in amusement. "Yep, that's me," he replies, his tone lighthearted. "Hopeless and in need of saving." He nuzzles his face into your hand, relishing the feeling of your touch on his skin. With a turn of his head, he presses a gentle kiss to the palm of your hand before speaking again, "But trust me, princess, I appreciate it. More than you know."

With a fond grin, you let out a sigh and rest your forehead against his own. "Love you, you big dummy."

Satoru rolls his eyes playfully, but his expression softens at your words. Leaning in slightly, he brushes his nose against your own, "Love you too, you stubborn pain in the ass," he teases, and then he captures your lips in a gentle, lingering kiss – his hand coming up to rest on the side of your face. You let out a hum of contentment, savoring the tender feeling of his lips on yours.

When he pulls away, you let out a small whine of disappointment, only to be greeted with his smirk and the sound of his teasing words. “We should get you cleaned up. I guess you can finally have that bath you’ve been wanting.”

Your eyes light up at the thought, the promise of hot water and steam calling you. A soft huff of laughter escapes your lips and your eyes sparkle with amusement. "About time you remembered," you reply, with mock exasperation. "I was starting to think you were going to make me wait forever.”

"Yeah, yeah" he glints, his free hand coming up to brush a strand of hair out of your face. "But you know… honestly a bath sounds nice. I could also use a good wash. Especially after all the work you just put me through."

You raise your eyebrow as you can see a sly grin tugging at the corner of his mouth and you snort playfully at his suggestion. "You're just looking for an excuse to soak with me."

Satoru leans in closer, his lips hovering just millimeters away from yours – his breath dances upon your face while he hums at you mischievously with a lazy smirk. "Why, you up for a little more fun in the tub?"

He still had more in him? Biting your lip, you look away from him for a moment as you pretend to think before responding, your tone playful and sultry. "Oh, I dunno, I think I’m pretty tired after all that exertion you made me do."

Satoru’s grin mischievously widens, “I can help you relax, common just let me join you,” he pleas childishly with a slight pout as he nuzzles closer to you with puppy dog eyes.

Your roll your eyes but they quickly betray you as they flicker down to his lips, tantalizingly close to your own. "It depends," you tease, your voice low and alluring. "Can you behave yourself in there?”

His eyes rove over your body, taking in each curve and contour as an unwavering smile spreads across his face. "Behave myself? That's a pretty big ask, princess. But for you, I'll try my best." He leans in closer, his lips brushing softly against yours as he speaks. "But no guarantees," he murmurs, his breath hot against your skin.

∘₊✧

"Fuck baby," he grunts through clenched teeth, "That's it... Just like that..." He pushes his member into your mouth, eyes half lidded in pleasure.

It is clear that Satoru had no intention of cleaning up. The sounds of his moans echo off the tile of the bathroom, steam enveloping your bodies as it creates a veil of warmth around you. Satoru’s groans heighten as you wrap your lips around him, taking him in deeper and deeper with each bob of your head. Your tongue swirls expertly around the sensitive underside of his shaft while your fingers trace teasing patterns along his balls. Muffled sounds escape your lips as he thrusts gently into your warm mouth.

Satoru’s hands cradle the sides of your head as he pulls you closer – his hips bucking forward. “Mmm.. that’s it…,” he hisses as he watches your lips stretch around his length. His fingers tangling in your hair as he holds you steady, thrusting himself deeper into you.

The sounds of the bath water rippling underneath you with each thrust, the grunts of Satoru’s pleasure and your muffled moans fill the air. His fingers tighten their grip on your hair, guiding your movements. Suddenly, he pulls back just enough, teasing the head of his cock across your plump lips, giving you a moment to breathe as you pant on his aching arousal.

“You’re so cute taking all of me like this. Fuck, your mouth feels better than I imagined. Been wanting to do this for a long time,” he murmurs breathily while his hand reaches down to gently stroke your cheekbone before lifting your chin up to look at him. He rakes in every inch of you with a mixture of pleasure and adoration – drinking in the sight of you, lips plump and pink while slightly parted.

“I’ve been wanting you too ‘toru..” you hum in pleasure, a tingling ache pooling between your thighs as you’re satisfied in how desperate he looks for you – you flick your tongue out and swirl it around the slit on his weeping tip, savoring in the taste of his precum as his head rolls back slightly from the sensation.

Satoru’s eyes flutter shut as he lets out a sensational gasp of pleasure from your tongue, dancing tantalizingly over the sensitive head of his cock. A shiver racks through his body down to his spine and a rumble of satisfaction vibrates in his chest. The sound he makes sends a thrill throughout your body – you smile around him, your tongue swirling in a way that drives him wild.

“You're too good at this...” he grunts out between ragged breaths. “Getting too close, I need to cum inside of you,” he rasps and suddenly pulls away, grabbing you as he spins you around. He pushes you forward onto the side of the tub and lines himself up with your soaking entrance.

You whine and welcome him eagerly as you rub his member between your slick folds, bent over and craving him as you coat his tip with your sweet essence. “Nnnm, need you inside me, please ‘toru.”

He grins down at you with a sly smirk plastered on his lips. “So needy, what happened to being too tired princess?” and with a swift motion he plunges his cock deep into your wet pussy once again, causing a sharp gasp to escape your throat that slowly turns into a needy moan. A low growl rumbles in his chest as he grips your hips tightly.

Leaning himself over your back, Satoru’s hand snakes around your waist and cups one of your breasts firmly, kneading it as he presses kisses along your neck. His warm breath plays upon your ear as he begins to move. “Good girl, taking me whole,” he purrs, “gonna fill you up again.”

Feeling the warmth of your slick walls enveloping him sends a wave of pleasure coursing through his body – he begins moving rhythmically, each thrust met by a symphony of soft gasps and lewd squelches echoing throughout the bathroom.

"Nnngh, – you feel – ha – so good ‘toru " you gasp, your voice coming out in short, breathless sighs, each one a testament to the pleasure coursing through you. Satoru revels in making such erotic sounds escape your lips, it fuels a primal passion within him and drives him even more over the edge.

Groaning in pure pleasure, Satoru wastes no time picking up his pace – each forceful thrust making your body bounce enticingly on the waterline of the bathtub, sending waves of satisfying splashes to cascade against the sides of the tub.

His hand on your breast searches for your nipples, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. You can feel the intensity building within you, the pleasure mounting with each passing moment – arching your back from each satisfying sensation, you push yourself deeper against his shaft and moan. “Yesyesyes, I’m so close ‘toru.”

He can feel your pussy clenching around his cock, signaling your impending climax. With a smirk, Satoru increases his pace even further, driving himself deeper into your quivering depths. His other hand slips down to tease your clit, rubbing small circles around it while he continues to pound deeper into your dripping cunt with each stroke. “That's it... let go, princess,” he murmurs into your ear before biting down gently on the lobe.

You gasp as his throbbing member hits deep against your cervix, and the combined stimulation of your sensitive bud sends you over the edge to ecstasy – your body a live wire of pleasure. You cry out Satoru’s name loudly, a mantra of pleasure and surrender, fingers digging into the edge of the tub, gasping and shuddering through your orgasm as your clamp your walls down on him, coating his cock with your sweet messy release.

Savoring each ripple of your inner muscles gripping onto Satoru’s aching length with such delicious fervor, he feels you milking every last drop out of him until he finally surrenders to his own building orgasm. His strokes become erratic as he chases his climax, driven wild by the sight and sounds of your pleasure echoing off the walls, adding fuel to his own burning desires.

“Fuuuck – ha – ‘m gonna cum.” His balls tighten as he releases his hot seed deep into your quivering cunt, spurting forth in hot streams, filling you up until you’re dripping with your combined pleasure. Holding onto your hips tightly, he rides out every last pulse of pleasure until finally collapsing.

You fall against the side of the tub, both panting and trembling from the intensity of your release. The sound of your ragged breaths fills the room, the only other sound being the soft slosh of the water around you. He holds you tightly, his body draped over yours while he trails gentle kisses upon your skin, his hot breath dancing on your neck with each shaky exhale. He buries his face in your hair as he attempts to catch his breath. "God, you're... amazing," he mutters.

You let out a soft hum of agreement, your voice raspy and spent. "Hmm~ you're not so bad yourself," a tired smile playing at the corners of your lips as you feel the exhaustion and blissfulness settling in your bones. You lean into his touch, closing your eyes and savoring the feeling of his skin against yours.     

He lets out a soft chuckle, his own breath still coming out in short, ragged gasps. "Not bad? I'll have to try harder next time," he teases, his voice dripping with playful arrogance. As he adjusts your position slightly, his arm encircles your waist, pulling you closer against him like a protective cocoon as you sit back in the tub.

His skin is hot and slick against your own and his heart beats softly against your back – a steady reassuring rhythm in the stillness. He leans in closer, his lips finding the spot just below your ear, "God, I can't get enough of you," he murmurs.

Feeling yourself melt into his arms, your body relaxes against his in a comfortable heap. You let out a sigh of contentment, closing your eyes as you bask in the warmth of his embrace. “Good," you murmur back, your voice drowsy with contentment. “No more pulling that shit where you leave me high and dry, okay?”

He chuckles lightly at your response, his chest vibrating against your back as he laughs. "No more leaving you high and dry, I promise," he reassures you, his tone serious. Planting a kiss on your shoulder, he runs his thumb gently over your hip, his touch soothing and comforting as he mutters. "Never gonna leave you hanging like that again. I swear."

∘₊✧

As the warm sun peers through the blinds of your windowsill, you grumble as you sleepily rub your eyes. "Satoru?" you mutter and reach out, searching for his warmth, but all you feel is the cold, empty sheets beside you where he used to be. Your eyes flutter open, and you squint against the glare of the sunlight streaming in. “Satoru?” you mutter again, your voice still thick with sleep. You frown suddenly deepens as you realize that he's not here. The silence is deafening. There is no way, right? He wouldn’t do this again?

You spring out from your bed and briskly walk down the hallway, unable to hide the desperation in your voice and the tears that begin to slowly well up in your eyes as you call him again “Satoru?” Your stride freezes as you hear the clattering on pots and pans coming from the kitchen, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee and sizzling bacon wafting in the air.

Relief washes over you, followed by a surge of slight irritation. How dare he leave you in bed alone again, worried about where he disappeared to. You walk briskly to the kitchen and see Satoru standing at the stove – the early morning light casting a warm glow on his disheveled hair. He is dressed in a casual t-shirt and sweatpants, cooking breakfast as if nothing happened, looking all too domestic with a spatula in one hand and a mug in the other. How does he always manage to look so damn attractive while aggravating the hell out of you at the same time?

He turns slightly at the sound of your footsteps, a crooked smile playing on his lips. “Morning, sleepyhead,” he chirps, as if he wasn’t just mysteriously absent moments ago – his casualness only fueling your annoyance.

“Satoru Gojo, I swear to God,” your voice is tinged with frustration and relief as you grab the throw pillow from the couch and hurl it at him – only for it to hit an invisible barrier and fall to the ground, Satoru stopping it with his infinity, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Hey, hey, now. No need to throw things at me. I was just making you some breakfast." He holds up the spatula in one hand and the coffee mug in the other, looking entirely too innocent.

✧ahhh, something about satoru being a big clueless idiot but meaning well :') hope ya'll enjoyed this! thanks for reading ♡

taglist: @haychhans @mysticnozel @luvrsbian @xxxxwhatsername @imonhereforareasonsadly @kalulakunundrum @ch3rryistheg @skyahri @genshingeeksworld @seilahtitania32 @strychnynegirl

[howtofightwrite]

Now you got me thinking...I've been thinking about writing a fic where the (in-universe) desensitization of violence for the main characters is a running theme. My main issue, however, is managing the violence within said narrative because, as you've said before, violence has diminishing returns. While I don't want it to be a gorefest from start to finish, I do want part of the horror to be having to engage in it, no matter what steps are taken to avoid it. If I'm not careful, I could end up with a weaker story for all the violence in it. What could I do to maintain this theme without it losing its impact due to these diminishing returns?

So, there's two different things going on here, and ironically, it's the same term, and mostly the same process.

When I'm talking about your audience becoming desensitized to violence, it's more that they become acclimated to the degree of violence you're comfortable with exposing them to. Again, “diminishing returns,” because as you expose them to more violence, they become more acclimated to that violence, and the shock value will subside. Similarly, the ability to build tension on the threat of violence occurring falls off when you're willing to engage in violence, but that doesn't mean you can't build tension, just that you need to be a little more careful about establishing those stakes.

Also, when most people write violence, they tend to establish implicit boundaries. It may be that only certain characters engage in violence. It may that certain areas are exempted from violence. At very mechanical abstraction, with some writers, you can tell when they've introduced a location that is exempt from violence. Even if you're getting into diminishing returns, violating these kinds of boundaries can keep the violence fresher than you'd expect. The formula of slasher films put a lot of effort into maintaining shock value by creating misleading boundaries that you'll pick up on and then violating them in new and novel ways.

Outside of some genuinely stomach churning violence, you're not likely to permanently move the needle for your readers. You're not actually desensitizing them to violence; just your willingness to depict violence.

I feel like I need to make a clarification: Too much violence doesn't mean the story will be bad. Normally, I offer advice with the assumption that you'll want to manage and maintain as much shock value as you can from your violence. However, that's not the only valid approach. That said, too much violence can cause your readers to disconnect from the work, so that is a legitimate consideration. Also, this doesn't mean the story loses impact. Unless the violence is the story, which is a somewhat weird edge case, violence won't necessarily reduce the impact of the story as a whole.

The example of slasher films, earlier, really does illustrate what I mean when I'm saying that lots of violence (even gratuitous violence) isn't going to necessarily mean that a story will be bad. (Though, this could spiral into a much deeper argument about the artistic merits of that genre.) To some extent, your choice of genre already starts to prepare the audience for a more violent experience. You're preemptively trading shock value for a higher baseline.

The second thing is your character being desensitized to violence. While there is something to be said for getting your audience into your character's head space to the point that they accept it as their own, doing that with desensitization to violence is extraordinarily difficult. (And, really, it's a tricky route to go in general. In most cases, the audience will simply assign whatever dissatisfaction they have onto you or the work, rather than realizing you were being clever.)

So, how do you show someone is desensitized to violence, without trying to simultaneously traumatize your audience? You show the consequences of that desensitization. This can show up in a character's sense of humor, their overall outlook. They may be more clinical about violence, more casual about its consequences (at least, superficially.) They might have an incredibly dark sense of humor, which might not come up most of the time.

In a larger context, a character who has been desensitized to violence may come across as basically normal, outside of a narrow band where certain concepts don't bother them. This is especially true with a specific brand of military humor, where violence has been rendered mundane for the individual, and the people they interact with on a regular basis.

Now, audience desensitization to violence can create a very weird situation. Where an absence of violence is more unsettling. Not because they're worried about what could happen, but because they're waiting for it all hell to break loose. It's one thing to simply call it, “tension,” but it is a very distinct kind of anxiety you can invoke, if you're careful. In the opening of a story, when the genre is clearly established, I've seen this compared to the ratchets on a roller coaster's first ascent. Everyone knows what they're here for, everyone's here for the ride, click, click... and then the lights go out, and the screaming starts.

I'm trying to make it sound easy, but violence is one of the more challenging things to write. That doesn't mean it's impossible, and you don't need to sit down and carefully sketch out every detail before you get going. The biggest thing to be careful of are that you don't want to overuse it, but you have a lot of flexibility to tell the story you want with the amount of violence you need to communicate that story.

Though, it might take a few tries until you get a tone you're happy with.

-Starke

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[starchaserdreams]

Jegulus Instagram AU part 2

Part 1

-

Regulus stared at James across the courtyard of the Potter mansion, willing him to look over. James, though, was too busy wrapped up in a conversation with Sirius and Pomona Sprout to even register Regulus' presence.

They were at the Potters' annual Christmas party. Regulus had turned the invitation down every other year Sirius had mentioned it - Regulus had never really been close to James, so it hadn't made sense to go - but he'd accepted this year.

No, he'd asked about it.

Perhaps Sirius hadn't even intended to invite him this year, after Regulus had turned him down so many times before. Regulus and James certainly still weren't close. But Regulus had brought it up, asked the date, and cleared his calendar.

In the last four weeks, James had posted eleven thirst traps on Instagram. Only one of them had gotten likes and comments from his followers. The other ten had been suspiciously invisible to everyone else.

Regulus had the suspicion that this was on purpose.

He hadn't had an actual conversation with James in over a year. He hadn't had a one on one conversation with him in- maybe never. But he was going to start now.

So he'd invited himself, and here he was.

But James hadn't even had the courtesy to be on time to his own family's party, which had left Regulus standing around waiting for him for fifteen minutes. He didn't have any friends here (it wasn't hard to imagine why Crouch or Rosier wouldn't have gotten an invitation) so he'd mostly kept to himself.

A number of older pureblood wizards had stopped to talk to Regulus because they knew his parents (who also definitely had not gotten an invitation). He did his best not to be rude, but he didn't like small talk and he was distracted, so his speech was clipped at best.

Eventually, after laughing at something Professor Sprout had said, James finally turned away from her and his eyes found Regulus immediately.

He winked.

That bastard.

"Excuse me," Regulus said to whoever was talking to him. He had already forgotten and didn't care enough to check.

James' eyes were still on Regulus as Regulus walked towards him.

Without looking away, James said something to Sirius. Sirius' eyes found Regulus too, and he frowned.

Professor Sprout must have been pulled away into some other conversation, because she was gone by the time Regulus paid attention to her again. He'd had tunnel vision all the way across the courtyard until he'd reached his destination. All he could see was James.

"Potter," Regulus said flatly when he arrived.

James was grinning like a maniac, looking altogether too pleased with himself.

"Regulus, you made it," Sirius said in an even tone. He didn't sound happy. If anything, he seemed wary, but that could have been because of Regulus' expression.

"So glad you're here!" James said cheerfully, "Can I get you a drink?"

"No," Regulus said firmly, "Explain yourself."

James and Sirius blinked back at him wordlessly, but their expressions could not have been more different. Sirius looked confused, and James looked thrilled.

"Can't imagine what you mean," James said cheerfully, "but let me get you that-"

"No," Regulus repeated. "Explain."

This time, it was James whom Sirius stared at in confusion.

"What did you do?" He asked. James blinked at him innocently. Sirius' eyes widened in surprise and his jaw dropped open. "No!" He said wildly, "No, no, no!" James just laughed. "It was him?? You made me take- You told me they were for Lily!" Sirius' face was scarlet from both rage and embarrassment. "That is my baby brother!"

Regulus looked from one to the other.

"You did not make him take those pictures," Regulus said, echoing Sirius' rage, "you're despicable."

Sirius and Regulus looked at James with matching expressions, but James just shrugged, looking unbothered.

"I needed the help, and you're my best friend through thick and thin, right?" He asked Sirius.

"Yeah!" Sirius said, gearing up for an argument, "but not-"

"What about what I've done for you?" James asked, "Moony's like a brother to me, and I've done much more-"

"Enough, that's not the same thing!" Sirius said, but his words had less heat in them, and Regulus could tell James was getting to him.

"Yes, but that's his boyfriend," Regulus argued, "who wanted those pictures! You shouldn't have made him take them because I didn't want them!"

James just shook his head.

"Yes you did," James said. His voice was smooth like velvet. "Know how I know that?" Regulus didn't respond, just kept his face fierce. "Because you wouldn't be here if you didn't like it. You would have just blocked me and moved on. That's your style." Regulus' eyes widened. He hated that James was completely right. "I know you, Regulus. I knew that it would either get your attention or it wouldn't. And I got your attention. Plus, you were undressing me with your eyes from the second I walked in." And he had the audacity to wink.

Regulus' eyes widened. For a long moment, both Black brothers just stared at him in silence.

"That's- I wasn't-" Regulus started before giving up. "How would you even know that if you weren't looking at me?"

James raised an eyebrow.

"I always see you, Regulus." His voice was smooth again, deliberately flirty. "And if you've never noticed it before, I'm sure you're going to now."

Sirius put a hand on his own hip.

"Prongs," he said icily, "a word?"

"No!" Regulus objected before he could stop himself.

"Relax, little brother," Sirius said, "you'll get what you want, I just need a minute with him."

"That's not- I don't want-" Regulus started, but he had no idea how to finish that sentence. He didn't know what he wanted. His brain had gone offline while James had been speaking and hadn't totally rebooted yet.

James clapped him on the shoulder.

"Be right back."

And then they walked off, leaving Regulus staring after them.

"Black, how good to-" a woman's voice said to his left.

"No," Regulus said without looking at her, just walking away instead. He could hear her gasp of indignation, but he didn't care.

-

It took six and a half minutes before Sirius and James finished their conversation and found Regulus again. Not that Regulus was counting.

"Okay here's how this is going to go," Sirius said firmly. "Neither of you is going to hurt them other one, okay, because I don't want to have to pick up the pieces." He looked back and forth between them. "Got it?"

"Of course," James said immediately, looking like he'd win a prize.

Regulus couldn't make sense of it. He hadn't even been a part of the conversation.

"Don't I get a say in this?" He asked angrily, "Seems like a shovel talk shouldn't be necessary if we aren't actually dating-" he coughed to cover how awkward he felt to have used a word that was just an assumption, "or anything else."

Sirius looked at him wearily.

"Reg, I know you better than James does." He glanced at James briefly. "And I know that everything he said was right. You looked ready to drag him into a spare room and lock the door behind you."

Regulus' eyes widened to hear his brother say that so unashamedly.

"It's my parents' house," James began with a laugh, "I have an actual bedroom, there's no need for-"

"Do you want me on your side or not?" Sirius asked dryly.

James mimed zipping his lips like a child.

"I was angry," Regulus argued, "it wasn't bedroom-" he cut off at Sirius' expression, "or broom closet eyes. It was none of that. I was angry."

"How many of those pictures do you have saved to your phone?" Sirius asked. Regulus could feel a blush spread across his face and he closed his eyes, mortified. "Because I know how hot those photos are. I took the bloody pictures." He was silent for a moment and Regulus opened his eyes to watch him. "If you have less than three of them saved, I'll believe you."

Regulus closed his eyes again.

"It's more than that," he said so quietly it was a whisper.

"How many of them?" James asked curiosity.

Regulus shook his head. His eyes found James' and he shrugged helplessly.

"It's all of them, obviously," he said. His voice came out sounding bitter, but that was his embarrassment talking.

"Right then," Sirius said, "I'm off. Have fun, Reg."

"Not me?" James asked with a laugh.

"You don't need to be told," Sirius said. But his voice softened when he turned back to Regulus. "Just- relax a little bit, okay? James is a good guy."

"How are you so okay with this?" Regulus blurted out, "Shouldn't you still be shocked and angry?"

"He wasn't all that caught off guard by it," James interrupted, smiling sheepishly. "I had a thing for you for a while my last year of school and he know about it."

"You-" Regulus stammered, "you did?"

"Yup," James said confidently, "Big time. Wasn't ready to tell you then. But I am now."

"Those pictures certainly said it," Regulus muttered.

"Want some more?" James asked, "I've got some outtakes, or we could always take new ones."

"That's my cue!" Sirius said, turning on his heel and leaving.

"Take new-" Regulus repeated, stuck on that and ignoring his brother entirely, "take new pictures, of-"

"Oh yeah," James said with a wink, "let's find somewhere more private and we can experiment a bit with what you want to see."

"Okay," Regulus said, wide eyed.

He didn't say a word as James led him up the stairs, but his brain was moving a mile a minute with ideas.

James in the shower with the water spraying down on him. James on a broomstick in tight shorts and nothing else. James holding his wand between his teeth while he-

Regulus thoughts were cut off once he was inside the room and James pushed him gently back against the closed door.

"Can I-" he asked. Regulus nodded feverishly. The rest of it could wait.

This part was going to be so fun too.

[lostbetweenvampiresandmusic]

Hi, it’s me again.

Could you do 9 & 17 with Dwayne? Maybe the reader was raised by vampire hunters but they don’t like violence so they spend all their life researching instead of training to fight vampires? Just a suggestion you have all the creative liberties

9. Why are you reading at the boardwalk?

17. I did everything you asked, and still you talk to me as if I'm nothing!

Ooh I love this idea!!! Thank you so much for requesting - I really hope you like this!

-------------------------------

"There are vampires in this town. We need to handle quickly, before they know we're here."

My father stood at the front of the table and bowed down over a map of Santa Carla. My mother was washing the wooden stakes with holy water, and my sister was busy practising her fighting moves. I sighed, curled up in the chair by the window.

"Why can't we just let them be?"

"They kill people."

"Isn't hunting them down also killing people?" I asked, but the second I did I knew I went to far.

"You listen to me, child!" My father stomped towards me, grabbing my chin. "You're a part of this family, and we are destined to protect the world from vampires. We've allowed you to stay behind because you refuse to fight, but I will hear none of this nonsense!"

"But-"

"These creatures are evil, demons that poison the world. And if you do not stand with us, then you're against us. You're just as bad as them."

I stood from my chair, trembling with anger. "How dare you?! I did everything you asked, and still you talk to me as if I am nothing! Why can't you just accept that I don't consider vampires a threat? Why must you kill them?" In the past year, I had researched everything I could, from behaviours to living situations - and I could only draw one conclusion out of all of it. Vampires weren't worse than humans. In fact, humans were more vicious killers than they were. Humans kill so many, not just people but also animals - simply for their pleasure (in the case of animals) or because it is expected from them in situations of war. But vampires, as horrible as they are, only kill because they need to in order to survive. And if they find a way for themselves to enjoy the killing, to make it bearable for them? Is that truly that bad? Does it truly make them worse than humans? I didn't think so.

My father turned to me, his stare turned ice cold. "Matthew -" my mother tried to calm him down, but he pushed her away. My sister had left the room, probably not willing to hear the same old argument again.

"You lost your brother because of those monsters. Or have you forgotten that?"

I glared at him. "Those killers have been dealt with."

"Exactly. And that's what we need to do here."

"But they didn't hurt us!"

"Get out!" My father now growled, and without looking back, I ran. I grabbed my bag, ran out of the house, and didn't stop running until I saw people.

I stopped to catch my breath, closing my eyes as I tried to fight tears. I missed my brother a lot, but it didn't justify the slaying of vampires. It didn't. It wasn't right, and it pained me more than I liked to admit that my family couldn't see that.

I entered the boardwalk, finding a way through the crowds. In the bag I'd taken was one of my favourite books, and I knew that I needed to read right now. I needed to clear my head and get away from the trouble at home. I didn't like the idea of reading on the sand, to afraid the sand would get stuck between the pages and damage the book. So, I walked around looking for a better spot.

I sighed as I found an empty bench at the boardwalk, a bright streetlantern right above it. It was a perfect spot to read. As I sat down, curling my legs up beneath me, I couldn't help but feel a sense of sadness wash over me. If they could only just accept me for who I was, and accept that I would never be like them...

I opened my book, and before I knew it, I was engulfed in the story. The laughter of the people on the boardwalk disappeared into the far background of my mind. The movements of the crowds disappeared from my sight. It was just me and my book. I had read it many a time before, every single time turning back to it. If the count cared so much for Mina, so much that in the end, he begged her to kill him so she could be free - then he wasn't truly evil, was he?

"Been a long time since I've seen anyone with that book."

I jumped, startled by the voice in front of me. I looked up and saw a handsome man looking at me.

"It's one of my favourites."

He smiled as he sat down next to me. "Why are you reading at the boardwalk?"

"It's more quiet here," I said with a soft smile. "Here I can get lost in the story, but at home..." I shook my head. "It's easier to read here."

"I'm Dwayne."

I gave him my name, finding myself enjoying his presence. There was something about him. We talked for hours. About the book I was reading now, about books we both had read - and by the time the boardwalk closed, I found myself considering him a close acquaintance.

"Do you want to meet again sometime?" I asked him, feeling more shyly than I had anticipated.

"How about we go out for dinner tomorrow? I'll meet you at the boardwalk at eight."

I smiled, nodding. "Sounds good. I'll see you then!"

Dwayne drove off, feeling contemplated. He knew that they were a member of a family of hunters, but nothing about them gave him any warning signs. In everything they'd talked about that evening, they had seem very positive towards vampires. No, they weren't a threat, he decided. Maybe even an asset if push came to shove. The question was, would that stay that way when they realised that they were destined to be a vampire themselves?

Part 2

[gougarfem]

i know this is cliché and there are a million posts like this but i'm getting so tired of the pointless infighting on here. and before you accuse me of anything, i'm a lesbian who practices complete female seperatism with the exception of having to interact with male healthcare staff. yes, i'm far from a perfect radfem, and yes, we should all try but I don't think anyone on here meets that ideal. seeing misogynistic slurs and insults thrown at women who are bisexual, het-partnered, or god forbid need a fucking abortion is so saddening when tumblr is one of the only places i feel a sense of community with other feminists. most people on here have at some point been isolated and ostracized for our politics. we're lucky to have a space on a site like this where we can express our beliefs and form a community and have nuanced discussions (look at what's happening to other apps! look how quickly radfem pages are termed on instagram and tiktok!) and instead of using this platform for constructive discussion some of you are spending 4+ hours a day in petty arguments over semantics, attacking vulnerable women for needing medical procedures and cyberbullying anyone who happens to feel attraction to men. we are not going to form a movement like this. no progress will come from this! outsiders see us picking each other apart and are discouraged from radical feminism, men use the holes in our community to tear us apart and make us look like a joke. people go back to liberal circles because their first day on radblr gets them an inbox full of insults and slurs and they quickly see how other women are treated on here.

i can't believe this needs saying but spending your day online calling osa women traitors/c*nts/c*cksuckers/brainwashed, telling detrans women we're deformed and damaged goods and throwing around the r slur is not activism nor is it feminist. some of you need to watch a primary school cyberbullying powerpoint about how there's another person at the end of the screen because i know no one on here would say those things to a woman's face. radical feminism fights for the liberation of EVERY woman, no matter if you personally dislike them or disagree with their choices - and even so, it's common sense that people will be more open to conversation and willing to change if you treat them with kindness, instead of denouncing and dogpiling everyone who doesn't meet your standards. i'm a radfem because so many women aren't. i'm a radfem for the women who wear makeup and insist it's for themselves. i'm a radfem for women who have been "happily married" 10 years and still do 100% of the housework. is that you? are you fighting for these women? or are you on here to boost your superiority complex and put others down? because if that's the case our movement doesn't fucking need you.

i hope some of you think about why you're on tumblr and how exactly you're aiding female liberation or even helping women to begin with. where the majority of other communities are toxic echo chambers, we need to be able to accept differences of opinion and fight for the bigger cause. anything else will alienate the same women we claim to be fighting for.

[vasito-de-leche]

so remember when we were all wondering what's with the r1999 character profile page?

the "an arcanist's work displayed in the 19xx"

and with their length x width dimensions

and how our chosen character in our home page retreats to being a painting in the background

anyways...in one of the new game infos in the loading pages (which has a very short window of reading time so it was hard to catch), it was said that:

there was a strange phenomenon of people turning into paintings that they can't find the cause of

based on what we have so far i am not liking what bluepoch could be implying in that loading page 🥹

For those who don't know or haven't seen it yet, they're talking about the following loading screen (ty to Tale's lore server for providing these!)

I just assume that these details are part of the whole artistic theme within the game, like how each Chapter is named after a real book, all the references to artistic movements and so on and so forth. As well as Vertin's role as the Timekeeper─she's meant to record and keep evidence from different eras, which sounds to me like a job for an art collector, conservator or restorator! So it makes sense to me that the people she saves are seen as art pieces.

Besides, the suitcase/Wilderness is a very vague, mysterious place. It's a literal pocket dimension that just seems to do its own thing and follow its own rules. I'm willing to casually accept that, sometimes, people turn into paintings for no apparent reason because it's a LITERAL pocket dimension that pulls people from time and space.

If I think reaaally hard ... Maybe you're implying that the people within the suitcase are doomed to become paintings eventually, because they're in the wrong era?

But that makes no sense, because there's hundreds of other survivors within the Foundation, Manus Vindictae and Apeiron so far who survive just fine─and Chapter 05 revealed why some places are immune to the "Storm."

Any potential arguments to support this theory don't hold up from my perspective, either. For example, the idea that the arcanists Vertin pulls from the spinning wheel in the middle of the lake are different from people who survive the "Storm" through different means (siding with either the Foundation or Manus, or by being in Apeiron, these are the only examples we have so far), and therefore they don't count, so they could be affected in different ways. This doesn't hold up, because Vertin pulled Sonetto, someone from the same era as her, into the suitcase through the spinning wheel. Whereas Regulus, who comes from an entirely different era, was just pushed inside. And yet, both of these characters turn into paintings anyway when you select them on the main screen.

So I don't think I understand the "implication" you're talking about and why you wouldn't like it? But please, feel free to elaborate on a different ask/reblog/reply, etc etc! I'd love to know!

[kyndredravenstories]

Eyes of Infinity: Delirium Chapter 12

Hello, I have been posting my work on AO3 and recently decided to venture here to Tumblr. Please note: This story is 18+. No minors. Please read tags carefully. Link to AO3 below but I will also be posting the chapters here.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/53564641/chapters/149739049

Pairing: Sylus/Female MC with some elements of Xavier/Female MC

Genre: Romance, Drama, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst, Adventure, Smut, Porn with Big Plot and Big Feelings

Content Warning (For the entire fic): Explicit sexual content, spoilers and alterations to existing lore and cards/memories/tender moments/secret times, size kink, size difference, vaginal sex, cunnilingus, anal sex, fingering, all kinds of fingering, elements of consensual somno, dom!Sylus, jealousy, possessive!Sylus, Mephisto stalking, Dark!Xavier, Intense!Rafayel, Foreseer!Zayne, typical game violence, battle and combat, PTSD

Summary: To love him meant stepping over the threshold and crossing into darkness. To be with him meant accepting the lure of the shadows. And to protect him from betrayal meant sacrifice. I knew not how, only that I would not let time sever our paths ever again.

Previous Chapters: Ch 1 / Ch 2 / Ch 3 / Ch 4 / Ch 5 / Ch 6 / Ch 7 / Ch 8 / Ch 9 / Ch 10 / Ch 11

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Though he holds the woman he loves in his embrace, Sylus is far from relaxed.

He keeps her close, sharing his strength with her, staying still as she leans on him and closes her eyes. He gives her the shelter and support she needs in the moment, but as he does so he takes his phone out of his pocket and makes a few calls.

Directions to Luke and Kieran, first and foremost. His bloodhounds must stay on the trail while it's fresh. Sniff out the rat and bring him to N109 alive. At this point, a quick death is not a mercy Sylus is willing to grant. In conversation, he restrains his anger as much as he can. It's tricky to speak softly and avoid saying exactly what he means. He takes care, highly aware that Ellara is likely listening to every word.

The second call is for his car. As it pulls up at a nearby curb, Ellara tugs shyly on his hand. An argument is coming. He recognizes the adorable pout to her lips, finding himself staring at her supple mouth much longer than he intends.

"Could we walk home?" she pleads.

"It's cold," he frowns.

"Don't you like the cold?" she pokes his chest.

"I'm not the problem. You'll catch a chill."

"I won't. Please?"

Sylus gives a weary sigh. He's really not in the mood to walk all the way to her apartment, but when she wraps her arms around his waist and looks up at him with her big doe eyes, he finds himself caving rather readily to her silly whim. Seeing her through Mephisto's eyes and stolen photographs is vastly different from having her close where he can smell her, feel her presence, and sense her warmth. When such things tease at his senses, he can hardly control himself around her. Affection and tenderness fills him. Relaxing his shoulders in defeat, he tousles her messy dark hair.

"Fine. You're spoiled rotten, that's for sure."

"Walking helps me think," she defends. There must be a lot on her mind now after all that's happened and all that's been unveiled this night. She doesn't like him teasing her, but her playful anger is better than weeping or mourning a dead man. She still seems dazed after the explosion, and he doesn't press her for any updates or answers. Even if this calm is temporary, he isn't willing to break it. Besides, there are worse ways to spend time than to walk with her holding his arm and sharing an umbrella.

Sylus leaves her to grab a spare winter jacket from the vehicle, dismissing his driver with a wave of his hand. Draping the black and grey garment around her shoulders, he smiles as he notes how large it is on her petite frame. She puts her arms into the sleeves, but they're much too long. The broad shoulders sag on her, too. Despite all this, she is breathtakingly beautiful in the unfamiliar moonlight. The silver glow accentuates her onyx hair and makes her skin gleam. For a moment, he ponders his fascination with her.

This small, unknowable, strange creature of his.

His to touch.

His to love.

His to protect.

It's a curse in any other name. Yet, it is one he bears gladly.

As they cruise at a lazy pace across streets and roads moist from the snow and rain, he finds himself enjoying the quiet moments with her. She tells him about her training and how hard its been to live without her Evol. She's so relieved when he tells her that what she drank earlier was an antidote. She's looking forward to the moment when her power comes back so she can seize her life again. Run missions. Use her favorite weapons. Feel like a productive member of society.

Sylus listens to her ramble, stroking the back of her hand with the pad of his thumb. Her excitement is soothing, yet bittersweet. If only she knew that the current state of her power is so far diminished from what it could be. Would she be saddened? Angry? He doesn't have the heart to tell her that she'd been used as a sacrifice -- again and again -- and that there are still those out there who would continue to do so. Fate hasn't been a kind mistress, not to either of them.

She's safe now in this time and in this iteration. Safe with him. But, he's not ready to make that claim out loud. Not yet.

There are tasks still left undone.

Despite the pleasure of her company, his temper remains unsettled.

Noxis isn't dead. That much is certain.

This night, Sylus came to the Destiny Café to claim a life, but he'd been thwarted. He's not sure what makes him angrier: the fact that Malakai escaped or the fact that he believed an explosion of such low caliber could harm the leader of Onychinus. Either way, he was being underestimated, and that simply wouldn't do. If word got out that this was the second time Sylus had failed to break this upstart's neck, his reputation would be jeopardized. In the short term, that meant more challengers and nuisances to fight. But, in the long term, it meant more danger to Ellara and more interference in their lives together. 

These last few weeks had been a game of attrition, a strategy to lure out Malakai into the open so that Sylus could kill him and end this circus with Noxis once and for all. Malakai had his eyes on Ellara, and Sylus used that to his advantage. He'd backed away from his contact with her, retreating into the shadows and banking on Malakai's impatience. Sure enough, when Noxis grew tired of waiting for Sylus to make a move, he positioned Ellara in harm's way in the hopes of forcing his hand.

What a pathetic fool.

She'd never really been in any danger. Kieran and Luke had been her silent and invisible guardians all of these weeks, filling in the blanks where Mephisto's communications left information out of regular reports. When she told the crow she was going to meet Noxis in person, Sylus was already prepared to intercept them. The goals for the rendezvous had been simple enough. Kill Noxis and take the antidote to LUMINIS off his corpse. So, how had so many lines become blurred in such a short amount of time?

Ellara was a wild card, that's how.

Sylus was prepared for Noxis to reveal his identity as her adopted brother, but he hadn't expected for her to defend him. Nor had he expected for the encounter to affect her so strongly. The revelation of her brother's betrayal must have been too much for her mind to process.

Initially, he isn't certain, but as the evening unwinds, Sylus begins to understand what's happened with more clarity. Based on her behavior on the walk home and all the questions she asks, she'd suppressed the events of this night, shutting the truth behind a series of mental barriers. Unexpected, but no matter. If that's what she needs to do to cope for now, then he would play along. In fact, it might be easier if she still believes her brother to be dead. He soon truly would be, after all.

One thing was absolutely certain. 

There will not be a third failure.

"Well, we're here," Ellara says, breaking Sylus's train of thought. He glances at the six story building next to them. A shabby thing. Old and derelict with peeling paint and water stains. Despite its owners' attempt to market it as a luxury apartment complex, he wouldn't even label it a motel. Yet, he's curious. Luke and Kieran sent him photos of the inside, but he wants to see it for himself. The place where she lives, sleeps, and spends the free hours of her day; where she unwinds and feels the freedom to be herself.

Sylus looks at his Hunter, so small and delicate. She's thinner than he remembers, and still so pale. Had this last month taken such a toll on her? If he was honest, it hadn't been easy for him either. When her partner had taken her from him, it felt as though half his heart had vanished with her. Sylus had buried his yearning and his need for her in his hunt for Noxis and search for an antidote. But, now that he was faced with the object of his desire directly, he could hardly resist her magnetic pull.

"Then, is this where we say good night?" Sylus asks, ready to pull back if she wills it. He hopes she doesn't; wonders if he actually would be able to listen if she tries to push him away.

"Do you want to...come up?" she asks, as though reading his thoughts. Relief. Excitement. He smirks in amusement, tucking a strand or two of flyaways back behind her ear. He makes sure to graze his fingertip against her skin in passing, gauging the level of her interest, reading every one of her minute expressions. To his delight, she shivers at his touch and covers his hand with hers.

"Is that what you want, kitten?" he smiles, wondering if he should take the high road. She's just been through something of an ordeal. She's likely exhausted. He should leave her be. Let her rest. Recover in mind and body. But, where's the fun in that? Especially when she's looking at him with such raw yearning, barely contained by the silly notion of what she calls "propriety".

If anyone asked him for his not so humble opinion, she was far from proper. Nothing about her was. Her eyes were pools of verdant ocean, light in places and dark in others. It was that darkness that now called to him and tempted, like a vast unknown crying out to be discovered. She was molded like a tempting little morsel, too. Firm and shapely with a slim waist and flaring hips, soft thighs he was dying to bite into, and perky breasts just begging for his affection. A bite-sized feminine package that he wanted to --

"I'd like that. For you to come up that is..." Her eyes skitter away from his. She deigns to blush. The little minx. Never honest and always so prideful. As if she could hide her thirst from him; as if he would ever leave her unsated.

"And what are you expecting me to do once you have me there?" He licks his lips, running his fingers through her hair then moving his hand down to the small of her back. Her breath hitches. The air between them grows charged and heavy.

"Well..." she still doesn't meet his eyes. "Your clothes are torn. And dirty."

"Mhmm..." He leans in, wrapping his arm tighter around her so their chests are flush. "And...do you have some spare shirts up there for me?" Her breasts rise and fall against him, her nipples already hard and pebbled. "Do you have so many men stop by that you keep such things on hand?"

"W-What?" she blinks up at him, and he finds comfort in the confused expression on her lovely face. Still, a flare of jealousy bites at him. Like a taser to the gut. He knows his words ring hollow, but just the thought is enough to sting. Sylus allows her blue-eyed partner a spot in her vicinity. For now. Out of necessity. Even then, the nuisance shows far too much interest in what is his.

Her phone rings out with an irritating and unfamiliar melody, breaking the moment. Sylus doesn't appreciate her rush to answer it.

"Xavier," she says, her brow furrowing.

Well. Well. Speak of the devil.

"I'm sorry. I know my message earlier was out of the blue. Everything is OK now."

A voice speaks on the other end, muffled by her ear.

"No, honestly I can't tell you what happened. Everything is a blur at the moment. I think I'm just in shock. There was a fire, and I think Malakai was involved. I'm safe, though."

More useless words and questions on the other end.

Impatient, Sylus reaches for her, but she pushes gently at his hand. He raises a brow. She doesn't meet his gaze. Irritation flares like a sparking firecracker in his chest. Really, now? What is this subtle body language? Does she have the audacity to ignore him? To command him to wait?

Ridiculous.

His Evol wraps around her wrist and hand, keeping both still as he pushes her up against the wall of the building behind a decorative set of trees. His jacket slips off of her onto the ground. She doesn't have time to be shocked before his lips press against hers. His tongue pushes into her mouth, breaking through a resistance so feeble its almost laughable. Slipping and dipping. Hands aggressively lifting her shirt and sliding beneath; caressing soft skin. In moments, she's writhing against him, gasping when he presses her other hand against the bulge in his pants.

"Ellara? Are you there?" the voice asks over the phone.

Sylus moves her thumb to push the "speaker" button. He lets her break the kiss, far too amused by the rising flush in her cheeks and the angry glint in her eye. She looks like she might hit him; he kind of wishes she would try. It would thrill him to watch her struggle, to tame his little vixen into writhing, wanton, and panting submission. Let her scratch at him with her little claws, too. Oh how he loves when she does that.

"I-I'm here," she says breathlessly. "Sorry, trying to find my keys so I can get inside."

"So you're at home now? You're safe?"

"Y-Yes. Everything is --mnn---" She bites her lip as Sylus's hand slips under her bra and cups her breast, rubbing against a hardened nipple with his finger. "---Everything is fine."

"You sound weird. Are you sure you're OK?"

She glares at Sylus again, but his smile only widens.

"Xavier, I promise I'm OK." She hesitates. A few emotions cross her face at blinding speed. She bites her lip and grimaces. "The truth is...I'm...not alone."

The voice over the phone goes silent.

Check mate.

Sylus can't help how his eyes grow wide in surprise at her admission. Truly, she is entirely unpredictable. Yet, so naïve. He's certain that she's completely oblivious to how the man on the phone feels about her, but despite that ignorance, his first guess would have been that she would shy away from revealing their connection. Yet, here she is. Being honest. And not in a subtle way either.

Despite this bold admission, the fire in her body doesn't abate. She's trembling against him, her pupils blown wide with lust and her lips swollen from his kisses. Should he make her moan louder? Until she can't talk at all anymore? She turns to him. Sees his intent. And the fear that widens her lovely eyes is just so delicious. That exquisite cocktail of anxiety, anticipation, embarrassment, and want makes his body grow hard and tight.

"Um...I'll call you first thing in the morning, OK? A lot's happened tonight, and I need to make sense of it all."

"As long as you're safe..." the voice says in a controlled monotone, the underlying anger there somehow satisfying.

Sylus pulls back his Evol and lets her end the call. As soon as its over, he grabs her by the hips and turns her towards the wall. As her soft ass presses against him, he can't help but make a sound of arousal. He ignores her when she whispers his name, rubbing against her, driving himself crazy at the thought of rucking up her skirt, ripping off her panties, and --

"No...Sylus...someone will see..."

He presses his nose against her ear, taking a deep breath of her scent, letting her soft hair tickle his jaw and send shivers down his core.

"Is that your only complaint?" he growls. "If so, then..." he grinds against her.

"Please..someone will see us..." she breathes, arching her back. 

"You're not doing yourself any favors by begging me like that, sweetie," he warns. "One more word and I'll have you right here..." he drops to a whisper, relishing her helpless whimper as he sucks on her earlobe. "Unless that's what you wanted me to do from the beginning."

Ellara bites her lip. Through the haze in his thoughts, he feels how cold her skin is, and some rationale returns. Wasn't he the one who was concerned about her moving through the winter chill?

"Please," she whispers. "Let's go inside."

He sighs. Gathering her against him, he Jumps to the third floor then through the wall until they're standing in her dark entryway. Her apartment smells as sweet as he imagined. Strawberries, perhaps. Or cherry blossoms. It's a subtle scent; not purposeful. Something gathered over time rather than forced with candles or oils. It's soothing, though at the moment there isn't much that can be done to quench the fire in his blood.

She wanders off to put on her slippers. Or tries to. Sylus doesn't wait until she's taken off her shoes; he can't. The phone call set off something feral in him. Territorial. As soon as possible, he wants to ensure that he is the only one occupying her thoughts and worries. Ignoring her weak and shy protests, he roughly pulls her up against him and into his arms.

Shower first. To get the smell of that fire off of her. Get her warm and comfortable. Help her relax in the steam with his hands and fingers. Check her skin for burns and injuries with his mouth and tongue. A noble pursuit, one should think. Look at him taking the high road after all.

I missed you.

I've needed you.

I've longed for you.

In all the ways he can, he tells her this without words. Through mind-numbing frantic kisses. Through bold caresses and touches. He tries to be mindful of his strength, but she tests his self-control. He bites. His fingers hold too tight. He's so hard it hurts, but he refuses to take her. Not yet. First, he wants to hear her scream his name. Moan and whimper and beg him to come.

He shoves her back up against the shower wall and kneels down, holding her hands and wrists in place with his Evol so his own are free to wreak havoc on her senses.

"Spread your legs," Sylus tells her, pressing his lips against the flat of her belly. He rubs his jaw against her skin. Up and down. Letting her feel him and gasp in anticipation. His lips ghost downwards, hands running over her thighs and to her calves. Down then up again until she's squirming. "More," he croons, pressing a kiss to the apex of her thighs. She throws her head back and shudders. Even under the hot water, goosebumps run across her skin.

In the end, she proves too shy. Or maybe the sensations are simply too intense.

He grabs the back of her knee, nudging her leg up.

"Wait...Sylus..."

"You know I won't," he chuckles, placing her knee against his muscular shoulder and spreading her wide open to his burning gaze and eager touch. When she fights, he steadies her with more of his Evol, unwilling to entertain her shyness in this moment. With his hands, he smoothes her legs apart, easing her open even more, baring the glistening petals of her sex to his blazing red eyes.

"Are you ready for this, sweetie?" he rasps, nearly delirious with his need to taste her. He doesn't wait for a coherent reply. Slowly -- torturously so -- he nudges her clit with his nose, blowing a faint stream of air over the hypersensitive flesh. She jerks against his restraints. Above his head, she gives a broken sigh. He looks up, staring into her wide lust-filled eyes, the color darker than he's ever seen it.

Unable to wait any longer, he laps at her, his tongue moving in darting, twisting circles against her folds. His eyes close at the euphoric taste of her. She shudders, her head shaking back and forth as her hips dance against his mouth. He moans against her core, intentional with the vibrations of his rumbling voice. She cries out wordlessly, her voice raw,  straining so much against his Evol that her whole body shakes. Her knee quivers on his shoulder, toes curling.

Squeezing the thigh resting on him, he brings his free hand up to her opening and eases a finger inside to his knuckle. She rewards him with a squeal, and he starts moving it in and out of her. He pulls against her shivering walls then pushes back inside. Again and again as she wails and thrashes in ecstasy. Honeyed juices rush out against his lips and tongue, and he adds another finger.

"Yes!" she whimpers desperately. "Yes...yes, please!"

He hums against her, her excitement driving his own. Still pumping his fingers in and out of her, he pulls her clit into his mouth and starts sucking. Her insides quiver and tighten around his fingers, flesh swelling under his ministrations.

"Don't stop," she begs, tears running down her cheeks. "Don't stop, please!"

He groans as she shudders wildly against him, her orgasm catching them both off guard. It's sharp and intense, and she's clearly overstimulated. He eases her down, maintaining steady soft motions against her with his tongue. Gradually, she softens against him. Sated, silky. He backs away from her sensitive bud, pressing a soft kiss to her folds and then her thigh. With a stray thought, he releases his Evol from around her body.

Small, delicate hands weave into his hair. Nails graze at his scalp. He hooks his hand around the back of her knee. This time, as he stands, he lifts her leg up and presses himself between her folds. She's still coming down, still dazed, and its in this half delirium that he finally surges into her. She's so tight that he nearly comes on the spot, but he reigns himself in. Not now. Not yet. It's been too long and he needs to be joined with her, to rail her until there's no room for anyone in her thoughts but him.

Both of them groan loudly when Sylus finally settles himself all the way inside, so deep that the head of his cock pushes right up against the opening of her cervix. Despite his vicious and desperate train of thought, he's careful with her. Gentle. Slow. Lost in his love for her. Bewildered, as he thrills at hearing her chant his name in soft cadence to each thrust. Like she's claiming him. Like he's hers just as she is his. She wraps her arms around his neck, and he lets out a ragged breath of pleasure as she brushes her lips across his jaw and ear. Surrendering. Accepting him. Urging him to go faster without saying a word.

She explodes right as he does. He groans as his orgasm washes over him. He spills his passion inside her, spearing into her tight passage over and over as the madness holds him in a vice. His body tightens, muscles quivering as instinct has him thrust once more as deep as he can possibly go. Her nails rake down the back of his neck, and he sees white at the euphoric pain. 

Piece by piece, the haze falls away. He grows aware of her silence and slow breathing. Concerned, Sylus brings an unsteady hand to the back of her head, stroking through her wet hair.

"Sweetie," he calls. "Are you alright?"

She makes a little sound of agreement, but doesn't move. Carefully, he lowers her leg to the ground. When she's steady, she hugs him tight. He turns off the water and snags a nearby fluffy pink towel, wrapping it around her. 

Their bodies are slick and wet. As she moves against him, the friction of her silky skin slipping against his abs sets his heart racing for a moment. It's an unfamiliar and dizzying sensation, and she is the only one who can trigger the phenomenon. He feels himself swelling against her belly, already hungry again. 

She inhales sharply when she realizes, her fingers exploring him. He grips the hair at the back of her head, suddenly fantasizing about how her mouth would feel wrapped around him. Perhaps soon, he can find out. 

"Sylus..." Her brilliant green eyes meet his. She's blushing, still shy despite everything thats happened between them. Just as earlier that day, he's helpless to refuse what she's about to ask. "Please, will you stay tonight?"

Strange. Unknowable. Wonderful. Terrible little creature.

His weakness.

If she wanted, she could completely and utterly destroy him.

She'd done it before, after all. Many a time.

"What is it? Have I not satisfied you enough?" he teases, tracing the lines of her back.

"It's not that," she burrows her flushed face against his shoulder. "I just...I've missed you..."

"Hmm...such honeyed words for me."

"I mean it," she hugs him tighter. 

He makes a sound, half sigh half chuckle. It's his turn to surrender. 

"Alright. I'll stay." He presses a kiss against her forehead. "But, I doubt you'll be getting any sleep." 

[sugutoad]

Matchup for @uzxotic

╰┈➤ Thank you for doing Matchups at Sugutoad

╰┈➤ Toji Zenin ‘I don’t know what happened, but my body is special’

Toji is an ISTP. ISTP and ISTJs are both opposites yet so similar. They are both introverts and thinkers but that’s where the similarities stop. You are a sensor and perceiver while he is a judge and intuition. But that’s what makes it so beautiful. You understand each other's comfort zones yet are willing to break each other's boundaries slowly and accept different challenges. Communication is so clear between the two of you. When he is angry, your simple words calm him down. And when you are upset, the touch of his fingers grazing your cheek makes you happy.

You mentioned you wanted someone opposite of you? Well luckily even you zodiacs are opposite. He is a Capricorn which is known to be stoic and level headed while Libra’s are sweet social butterflies. Romance will take time between you but who doesn’t love slow burn? Because that would be the two of you. You are so opposite of him, so sweet. And he thinks he doesn’t deserve you. 

He loves when you cling on to him. You feel so fragile and similar to a statue of glass, beautiful yet so breakable. He tries to be mean around but when you bat those brown eyes at him, he melts under your gaze. 

He always bullies you when you're sick though. Always rambling on how you act like a child and how you should grow up. But in reality, he cares so much. Even with the bare money he has, he goes to the store and buys different products to make sure you stay healthy. But after you get better, he brings up how he helped you so much and how amazing he is only for you to scoff at how much of a show off he is.  

Though the both of you are quiet, he is certainly more energetic than you. But not in the sense of being more outgoing but rather more stamina (oops for you in bed ig?) He knows he isn’t kind at all but he tries so much. Only when he is with you though, everyone else could disappear off the planet and he wouldn’t care as long as you were by his side. 

But he is muscular like you mentioned. Like he has such a nice chest though I doubt he has any soft muscles on him but c’mon this is Toji. His hair isn’t really fluffy but I do imagine it to be soft. His head on your lap as you lock your fingers in his hair, attempting to do a small ponytail that he later takes off :(

He is so touchy to a point it’s really clingy. You are his girlfriend and people should know that. Even when you are in public, he has arm around your waist or hands locked tightly to one another. When you wake up in the morning, he usually wakes up before you. But he doesn’t leave and holds on to you. Just taking in that small moment as you look so much more calmer and relaxed. Like an angel. His angel. 

Expect some bickering between the two of you. He is an angry fella at times and that results in him getting in arguments a lot. But he doesn’t like arguing with you so it’s just some old married couple bantering. He has so many nicknames for you but his favourite one is ‘baby’. I don’t know, it just seems like him.

He finds you so beautiful. Always showing you off to Shiu by showing a picture of you. ‘That’s my girl’ is something Shiu hears at least twenty times a day. Your messy hair, your brown eyes and beautiful body are just some of the things he loves about you. You could randomly justify minding your own business when he wraps his arms around your waist or holds your hips. Then out of nowhere he starts kissing your neck, he is so touch-starved. Though he says it’s because you look so beautiful, it’s mainly because as a kid everyone sort of shunned him away, he never received proper physical touch until you came into his life. 

You were a blessing in Toji’s life. After his wife’s death and Megumi’s birth, he had given up everything. But in his times of darkness, you gave him a hand. He was so in love with you but never admitted to you. He was scared in a way you would leave him but when he told you how he truly felt, he never felt so happy. You are his sole shining star in his darkest on nights when he was lost.

[anamericangirl]

Firstly, sex and gender are different things. One is biological, the other is psychological. There's nothing preventing anyone of either sex from being a man or a woman.

Lastly, socialism and national socialism are different things. Socialism is a left wing belief and governmental system that believes that workers should collectively run and own their work places, rather than businesses having singular owners. National Socialism is a center authoritarian belief and governmental system distinguished by its totalitarian government and beliefs of racial superiority. National Socialism is basically just Adolf Hitler's beliefs. National Socialism is similar to Socialism in nothing but name.

Are you under the impression that I've never heard these claims before and your message is enough to prove me wrong? If you want me to believe what you're saying is true, you're going to have to provide evidence and an actual argument as to why you are correct. I'm willing to change my mind if you actually have a strong case and the evidence backs you up. But not because you simply state that it is so. I know kids aren't being taught how to think and reason anymore and just to parrot what they hear, but it's really important to know how to defend your own beliefs.

Sex and gender are the same thing. They have always been the same thing and always will be the same thing. When you say gender is "psychological" what you're really referring to is how people "identify." You can identify in your mind as whatever you want. But gender is also a physical reality. If you actually think the sentence "there's nothing preventing anyone of either sex from being a man or a woman" is logically sound and makes sense I feel very sad for you. A man can only be a man. He can think he's a woman and act like a woman, dress like a woman and try to look like a woman but he can't be a woman. A woman can only be a woman. She can think she's a man and act like a man, dress like a man and try to look like a man but she can't be a man. You can't change your biology and gender is biological because it's the same as sex. Male means man. Female means woman. Your brain can make you feel like the opposite gender but there is no credible or even valid evidence out there that suggests gender is psychological.

To accept that as truth when there is nothing out there to suggest that it's true means you are not listening to science or reality. You are following a pseudoscience that was the brain child of a disgusting pedophile who, when attempting to prove the idea that you just stated as though it's a fact, succeeded only in molesting young boys and completely destroying a young man's life by having his parents raise him as a girl (you know, because gender is psychological) and all that did was end with that man killing himself. So good for you for repeating that nonsense that does nothing except destroy people every time someone tries to prove it.

You just believe it because you follow the mob and that's what the mob believes so that's what you believe. But it's not true. And if it was you could do more than repeat long dead debunked talking points. I swear all you guys can say is "gender and sex are different things. One is biological the other is psychological." But I don't think any of you even know that what means because you can't even elaborate. All you have is that one sentence. Did they stick you in a reeducation camp or something and just make you repeat that line over and over again until you believed it and then send you out into the real world to try and defeat science and reality with that one, pathetic sentence?

-------

Now, onto your socialism nonsense. That is, by far, the weakest definition and attempt at separating Hitler from socialism I have ever seen. Saying "National Socialism is a center authoritarian belief and governmental system distinguished by its totalitarian government and beliefs of racial superiority. National Socialism is basically just Adolf Hitler's beliefs" is gibberish and a word salad that doesn't mean anything. You're not saying anything right there. Of course they were his beliefs because he was a national socialist. What exactly do you think you just said there? I'm not going to go too deep into this because this is a complicated topic and there's a lot to go over and I don't feel like a writing a book on socialism and Hitler (but you should honestly go read some) and even I did I'm quite confident it would go in one ear and out the other since you have a list of sentences that you will be repeating regardless of what I say.

But I will say your definition of socialism is just wrong. Socialism, at its core, is simply state control of the economy and there are different variants of socialism but they all involve, as their foundation, state control of the economy. The only reason people have been spreading the idea that Hitler wasn't socialist and was right wing is because there was a strong racial component to his socialism and people have been brainwashed into thinking that only right wing people can be racist but that is far from the truth.

National socialism is 100% socialism and Hitler's racism was his socialism because race is a necessary component of national socialism since race is what is considered the "nation" in this ideology. Hitler was, in every conceivable way, a socialist. He wanted the German state he created to be in complete control of the economy. He had socialist ideals, he was trying to create a socialist state and I can't believe people are naive enough to think they can debunk this by pointing that Hitler was racist. Yeah, duh. Of course he was he was a national socialist, which is not socialism in name only as you would know if you actually knew what you were talking about. See, all you know about Hitler is that he was a racist, and you think that's enough to prove he wasn't really a socialist but being racist doesn't cancel out being a socialist. It's possible (and necessary if you're a national socialist) to be both.

Honestly, these arguments are getting old. I've given plenty of reasoning throughout my conversations on this blog to the nonsense ideas of gender theory and the "Hitler wasn't a socialist" history revisionism going on but all you guys come back with is the same sentences I've already responded to over and over and over again providing no new argument or anything. Just the same words as if you think repeating them over and over again will get me to agree with you because that's how it worked on you. But that's not going to work on me. I require more thinking and rationalizing of ideas in order to believe something. Not just empty phrases.

So anyone else who just comes back with "sex and gender are different things" and "Hitler wasn't a socialist" without being able to bring anything new to the conversation will be ignored. Because I've thoroughly responded to both of those claims multiple times.

[sassymajesty]

may I ask what made you pick judaism, if it's not too personal & you're willing to share? i legit dont know enough about religions so i'm genuinely curious. like why not islam or something else? or why not transfer to protestant or orthodox church? you said you did some wandering, so i'm just curious what made you pick judaism over everything else. like i said i'm not judging or anything, just pure curiosity due to my lack of knowledge! but i'm glad you found something that resonates with you :)

short answer, jewish beliefs resonated the most with me and the more i learn about it, the more at home i feel

long answer, oh boy, i really did do some wandering. i'm putting it under a cut because i wrote a whole essay

i stopped going to the catholic church when i was 15, and the next... ten years? were spent trying to find myself. because i've always known that i believe in something more, but the idea of an old guy in the sky ruling over us with an iron fist felt very odd too me. and that's how i came out of the catholic church

my dad used to say that religion is supposed to bring you comfort and give you the support you need in tough times. that's something that has always stuck with me but then, which religion?

i tried the agnostic route for a while, but that didn't bring me any comfort. then i went to a buddhist temple a couple times, because the logic was sound to me, and i was at a time in my life where acceptance and kindness was what i needed. but still, i felt like there was something lacking

i googled a lot

being gay, i didn't quite vibe with most christian denominations in my town. but my cousin invited me to the presbyterian church and i went there for a few months. it kinda worked for a bit, because i was sure i didn't believe in saints and they talked about jesus with so much love, and tried to spread the love he taught the world. i used to leave the church service feeling very loved, and it was better to read from the bible than it was to just listen to the priest read it and being told that i'd never understand it myself

i just... didn't feel the same love as everyone else. i felt like a fraud even when i was annotating my bible as everyone else. theirs were full of devotion and mine felt flat, i didn't know how to pray without, you know, scripted prayers, i felt like an impostor. then, well. then it got to a point where i couldn't simply ignore being gay for the sake of being accepted there, and i stopped going

at the time, i was working at a health clinic and i worked with pious people from other christian denominations and they were so judgemental of everyone that came in, forgetting their own past and still claiming to be a good christian. which only pushed me away from any other christian denominations, the fanon interpretation of jesus bothered me too. it all felt too restrictive

that's around the time i started wondering whether or not i believed in jesus. it's always been complicated for me to make sense that god, jesus and the holy spirit are separate but still one. i could kinda figure out the holy spirit and god working together, but for me, jesus was a man, a human man who had been kind and drastically radical for his time, but still a man

honestly, at this time i was pretty lost and finding comfort in bits and pieces here and there. christian music actually helped me a lot during this time, go figure

it took me actually meeting a jewish person (that's how small judaism is in here, i had no contact of anyone jewish for 26 years of my life) for me to learn that you could even convert to judaism

i had the catholic thinking of "oh, judaism is an old religion that doesn't really exist anymore" and "the old testament god was barbaric", but getting to learn more about it with fresh eyes was a really breathtaking experience

i like that the rules make sense. there's no "because the church says so" or "because god will be sad if you do it". whatever argument you can think of, someone has gone over it at least a thousand years ago and have had people arguing for or against it ever since. i love it that you get to ask questions!!! you're encouraged to!! oh that's my favorite part, i can have doubts about whatever and no one will talk behind my back that i'm not a good catholic girl. and i get to learn about this practice that goes back thousands of years, and not to be a nerd, but i love how much incentive there is to read and learn and discuss and talk through things and question everything and think critically about every passage, every tradition, every book ever written on judaism

i'm reading "here all along" by sarah hurwitz and there's a chapter called "freeing god from "his" human-shaped cage in the sky" and in it, she talks about different conceptions about god that jewish people believe in. and that is when i realized oh yes, this is home. because god stopped being an old guy in the sky and became this force that no human being could ever describe or understand. god can be all knowing and all powerful, but they can also be all knowing and not all powerful. they can be everything — a shadow the tree casts, the good in humanity, resting on shabbat. god can be the "process of being" or the force that pushes you to be the best you can be. i haven't explored a fraction of those but i love it that i don't have to choose just one, and i don't have to believe in one version that's dictated to me

all my experiences with judaism have been incredible so far. i used to slog through an hour long mass, now two hours every friday feel like not enough. the community i found (both in the synagogue i go to and online) is very welcoming and there's so much strength in them. the more i learn about the practices, the why behind them, the more at home i feel

we had an event for people who want to convert and we talked about being gay and judaism and everyone was pretty much you just gotta find a rabbi that you're comfortable with but even the most conservative ones are mostly chill with it, and the conversation moved on to another question. and that? being accepted fully by who i am, that's incredible for me. i don't have to change, i don't have to force myself to believe in anything

i'm gonna end this here, otherwise i'll be talking about judaism until next week

[clxckwork-sun-n-moon]

Hello clxclwork may we get "No one ever cared about me like you do" for the prompt game if you're still accepting?

hurt/comfort prompts

--------

helping hand || Sun-centric (no AU - 1.9k words)

If management had any issue with the amount of time you spent helping out the Daycare attendants, they hadn’t raised a word or so much as dropped an email your way. The fact they paid you your overtime for the hours you spent there felt more like a reward than anything else. Seeing as you never saw another human member of staff in there, it made sense (but also didn’t make sense at all). Why have two paychecks when one would cover your security shift and the extra help you gave Sunny (he needed the help more). And you were more than willing to spend an hour or two each day, either coming in early to help clear up at the end of the day or lingering around in the bright crack of dawn to prepare the selection of kiddy toys and the arts and crafts station. It wasn’t too stressful - Sun was always in charge of releasing kids back to their parents, so you weren’t expected to interact with any customers still (no matter how many tried to grab for you if you were working close to the entry doors, trying to worm out answers to questions you couldn’t help out with) - and it was about as safe as your security patrol.

Yeah, no, that was a full lie.

‘Safe’ theoretically, yes. But having to pick across a soft-padded floor scattered with crayons, pencils, small plastic balls, and beanbags could be a hazard to anyone who didn’t have cat-like reflexes to keep themselves steady. There always seemed to be something that could be underfoot. And if it wasn’t, it was stowed away in a part of the playground structure that you needed to properly wriggle your way into in order to retrieve the lost item. You didn’t have to crawl through tubes when on patrol. 

But you did it all the same. Each time Sun would spin his rays, collecting from your hands whatever stray knick-knack or ball or crayon you’d recovered, and thank you for your kind help. So many ‘thank yous’ from one animatronic. You weren’t sure if you felt more flustered by the consistent gratitude, or more upset that he had to do this alone whenever you weren’t around. It was only fair to help him.

Today’s cause for mischief and chaos was a couple of kids who decided all the balls in the ball pit needed to be out of the ball pit. Again. With Sun up at the doors, chatting away to a couple of parents who were interested to hear what their kid had been up to, you were left to walk the length of the play moat and collect every stray ball tossed to the side. Some had even gotten onto the walkways and play structure which was more than impressive, but thankfully it only required a stretch inside to get them. No worries about getting stuck in a narrow corner for you today. Each ball you tossed underarm back into the moat, not caring too much on how far they went or whether they bounced. A gentle menial task. It made things easy to slip through your mind, thoughts rolling over each other slow and casual. Like how you’d been doing this for months, and management hadn’t figured to follow up on your consistent overtime in the Daycare. Or the fact that you’d had another argument with your parents last night. Or the fact that Sun kept glancing in your direction while you cleaned up his space, probably judging how slow you were going. Small thoughts, that trickled over your fingers and lodged in your stomach. Before you knew it, you were so lost in the repetitive ‘pick up and toss’ motion and your own thoughts that one ball managed to slip past your eyes. One step forward, and you were going down.

Your leg kicked upward as your body weight shot the errant ball off into the distance, throwing your balance entirely. Arms pivoting in an attempt to balance, you felt your body lurch and your stable ankle wobble then cave sideways with a nasty crunch. With as much grace as you could muster, you fell, bounced off the moat wall, and hit the padded floor.

“Oh dear!” Sun’s voice echoed off elsewhere as you blinked the stars from your vision. Thank goodness for children’s play area crash mats. After a few seconds of pulling air back into your lungs, you started shifting your limbs back into place, prying yourself upright with your elbows first. You didn’t expect to see yellow and red stripes hopping into view right next to you.

“Aren’t you on front door duty?” you asked in confusion.

“I was, but all the parents are gone now,” Sun replied, crouching down next to you.

“You were just in the middle of a conversation, I could swear-”

“Are you alright? You took quite the nasty tumble there.” Sun’s rays swung from side to side as he got one arm around your shoulders, helping you sit up the rest of the way.

“I’m okay, the floor caught me well enough,” you managed to laugh out a touch. Sun’s silence was a poor receptor of the joke. “I’m serious. I barely hit my head, if the ground can tank a toddler falling over at top speed then my skull should be fine.”

“Well, if you’re sure.” There was definitely distrust in Sun’s voicebox, and hesitation before he straightened his legs, lifting you up in the process. When you put your weight on your sprained ankle and hissed from the stab of pain that followed, he immediately set both his hands under your shoulders to take some of your weight. “I knew it! I knew you were injured in some way, this simply won’t do. I’ll need to fill out an accident report, and you need to sit down. Where’s the injury?”

“Ankle,” you mumbled back. Your brain was spinning around the fact you’d disappointed Sun and the fact his hands were large enough that his fingertips were practically touching at your back. A small sigh echoed out from Sun, his head rotating almost all the way around before returning to centre. He shifted you around in his arms, easily as a small child, with one arm still holding your shoulders and the other scooped under your legs.

“Really starlight, you shouldn’t hold onto these sorts of things. Rules are important, and so are you,” he commented, carrying you in long loping strides to the security desk.

“I know, paperwork to fill out and-” Wait. You needed an extra minute to process that last part of his sentence. A small nervous laugh bubbled up from you. “That’s sweet, Sun. Is that something you tell the kids often?”

Sun paused before setting you down on the desk. 

“What thing?”

“The ‘you are important’ schtick.”

“Yes I do. But you are too.”

“I’m not a child, Sunny.”

“I’m aware of that. My statement still stands.” Leaning in, he prodded you gently in the sternum. “You are important, and if you’re in pain, you’re allowed to get help for it. No walking it off….literally.” Your gaze slipped away, unable to hold it against Sun’s unblinking eyes. Instead you stared at your ankle, and Sun followed you, crouching down to rest a hand on your ankle and prompting another hiss from you. Once the pain of pressure faded, the cool metal and silicon was practically a balm, as he slid your shoe and sock off to check the joint more properly. 

“What’s the verdict, doctor? Am I gonna live?” you couldn’t help another small joke, anything to break the quiet you were in right now.

“So long as you keep your weight off your foot for a day or so, you should be fine.” Sun ignored your groaning to continue on: “If we apply an ice-pack and keep it on for fifteen minutes, doing the same for about two hours, then the swelling should reduce quicker.” Leaving you to mourn your security patrol, Sun poked his head outside the Daycare and motioned at a nearby Staff bot. You couldn’t overhear his words exactly, but you guessed he was asking for an ice pack of some kind, as the Staff bot quickly spun around and wheeled away elsewhere into the Pizzaplex. 

“Am I going to be able to do my shift today?” you asked. “I’m gonna get hell for calling in sick…an hour and a bit before I should start working. My actual job, that is.”

“Not to worry. I’ve left Moon a message so he’ll know you’re out of commission for the night, and he’ll be able to continue assisting with taking care of your ankle.” Sun’s hand settled over your shoulder as he stood next to you, still managing to loom over you (but not in a bad way). “You won’t need to call off sick, if that’s your main concern.”

“No, well, I-” You needed to breathe in slowly, trying not to turn your tongue into a knot with how badly you were fumbling everything. “I’m not very used to this kind of situation, is all.”

Sun made a soft note, of agreement, of understanding, maybe both. His hand squeezed your shoulder, before descending down to hover near your side.

“No-one’s ever really prepared for emergencies like this, starlight. Not when it happens to them, at least. It’s why it’s important to have friends around,” he said, voice all warm and sweet and making pancakes in your stomach.

“That’s kind of the deal though. No one’s ever cared about me like you do.”

This time when the silence fell in, you couldn’t break it. Words froze up in your throat, choking on something weighty you’d dislodged in your attempt at humour. Sun stood next to you, looking down at you, sun rays still as he just…looked. You wanted him to say something in return, to make you think you hadn’t just completely fucked the conversation sideways, something to distract you from the new thoughts that you’d uncovered. Hot tears welled up in the corners of your eyes, beginning to roll down your cheeks no matter how much you tried to hold them back. You had to look like such a mess right now - wasting Sun’s time, crying over your own loneliness.

Slowly, Sun’s fingers wound between your own, lifting your hand up to rest in his palm. His other hand trailed against your cheek, capturing tears against his thumb.

“You know, I’ve been feeling much the same way, starlight,” he said softly. That shocked you quickly out of your tears. “It’s true. You come here nearly every day, helping me clean up and put things away, or even staying late when you and I know you should be going to sleep. You’ve been looking out for me, caring about me. For such a long time it’s just been me and Moony, and now…it’s you too.”

A low jingle came from the Daycare entrance. Sun stepped away from you, your fingers slipping away and you couldn’t help but lean after him to try and let the touch linger. Not to worry though, he returned shortly after with a small industrial bag of ice in one hand and a soda cup in the other hand.

“It’s always the wrong flavour that people ask for. I hope it’s not too bad though,” he said as he pressed the cup into your still outstretched hand, before kneeling down to hold the ice bag on your ankle and lift your foot up to a more appropriate resting level. Wiping away your tears, which were starting to come back with a vengeance, you sipping on the drink inside. Ah, cherry cola.

“Thank you,” you mumbled through a thick throat. Sun peered back up at you, that smile more radiant now.

“Of course, star. Anything for our dear friend.”

[raxistaicho]

Ok so Idk if this will sound like Edelgard bashing but something makes 0 sense to me:

Byleth siding with Edelgard in the Holy Tomb, I mean she was revealed as the Flame Emperor.

The Flame Emperor has been connected with the people who killed Byleths dad, been connected to several crimes throughout the game, threatened fellow students if they resisted them stealing essentially from graves, and worked with people who are a direct and FAR more of a threat to humanity than Rhea or Nabateans as a whole (which is another topic). I mean you could say that Edelgard was being manipulated by TWSITD but as a player we are shown that (and not exactly much from my memory), not exactly Byleth-wise.

I mean the only reason I see the "Byleth is protecting her student" argument is if you don't see the rest of the BE's as students at least ones that arent as important as Edelgard seems to be.

None of the other students or even Byleth themselves even questions Edelgards actions from what I remember. If we were shown more direct "proof" that Edelgard was being manipulated and CF reworked to where we could at least see some focus on answering for your actions like Dimitri's route does I could try and replay it. (also hate that his trauma is called "man pain", that is straight up disgusting from people, trauma is trauma)

Well you're Byleth. Asking why Byleth does whatever thing is like asking why Revan does whatever thing in KOTOR 1: it's because the player made it so.

Now if you're asking why Byleth would be willing to forgive her, there's any number of reasons. Maybe Byleth wants to protect their student, or maybe they agree with her ideals and are willing to accept her methods (Edelgard's ideals are never questioned by the writing, just her means to achieve them). Maybe they don't trust Rhea. As for why there's no "confrontation" between Edelgard and Byleth - Silver Snow's the confrontation. There's a whole route where you can demand answers and deny her.

As for the other students, the devs can't be sure who's alive and who isn't. Three Houses put a lot more work into involving the other characters into story scenes (compare this to its successor, Engage, in which Celine, Fogado, Alcryst, and Hortensia swiftly slide into obscurity and even major characters like Timerra and Diamant barely have anything important to say once their respective arcs are done) but even so they usually give one or two sentences of canned dialogue. A confrontation with Edelgard over her deeds throughout the game would demand a much longer scene than I could honestly expect the devs to go through the effort for, especially given it's optional.

If we were shown more direct "proof" that Edelgard was being manipulated

She wasn't manipulated though. When we say Edelgard isn't in control of them, it means she can't stop the things they do on their own, like kidnap Flayn, kill Jeralt, or destroy Remire. It doesn't mean she has zero agency at all throughout White Clouds. The Holy Mausoleum and the Holy Tomb was all her.

on answering for your actions like Dimitri's route does I could try and replay it.

What does Dimitri have to answer for and how does her answer it, out of curiosity?

Ok so Idk if this will sound like Edelgard bashing

And no worries on this. I welcome questions :)

[blackjackkent]

Resuming Rakha's adventures! Had a dramatic showdown with the githyanki patrol last time and Lae'zel's pretty upset about it - and at Voss and Rakha, for different reasons.

Once again, the timing on this works out to kind of be unintentionally perfect, because Lae'zel is evidently so upset by the mixture of Voss's apparent treachery and Rakha not reciprocating her feelings that she decides, come camp time, that it's time to take it out on Shadowheart:

"You carry a githyanki relic. I will have an explanation - or your head!"

"Walk away - now."

Rakha isn't entirely sure which of them began the argument, but it has escalated rapidly. The two of them are standing in the middle of camp snapping at the top of their lungs, and the brittle tension in the air feels ready to snap. Lae'zel has one hand on the dagger at her side and Shadowheart's hands are balled into fists; for a moment Rakha thinks a fight is going to break out right there.

How glorious... the beast whispers in her head. What a beautiful spread of death they would make, hands on each others' throats--

Rakha clenches her hands tightly within her folded arms, digging her fingernails into her palms in an attempt to drown out the thoughts. Not them. Not here.

Watch the argument unfold.

"You have something precious to my kin," Lae'zel snarls. "An heirloom. I will have it back."

"Heirloom?" Shadowheart laughs disdainfully. "Plunder from some conquered realm more like. This artifact is the only thing keeping us from becoming slaves to our parasites. Be glad I have it."

I should have expected this, Rakha thinks darkly. They learned from Voss that the artifact is githyanki in origin; why wouldn't Lae'zel demand its return? And, in fact, why should she not have it back, as long as it's still in camp and maintains its protection? They won't even need it at all, once the matter with the zaith'isk is settled and the worms are removed.

Shadowheart, of course, has been secretive regarding her own need for the artifact, and why she has it in the first place. But clearly she is not willing to relinquish ownership of it.

(A/N: Once again - why, then, does Lae'zel get pissy if you try to give it to Voss? :P Makes no sense.)

Lae'zel's lips draw back over her teeth in a menacing sneer. "I do not wish to spill blood here," she growls. "Come daylight, we will find a place to end this."

Shadowheart laughs sharply. "Fine. You can accept you're wrong, or we'll be rid of you permanently. Either way, I win."

Lae'zel doesn't dignify this with a response, but turns and walks away. Shadowheart watches her go, glaring, then shoots a look at Rakha, as if daring her to comment.

Rakha's eyes are fixed somewhere in the middle distance; the beast is pondering eagerly on the image of Lae'zel and Shadowheart coming to blows in the morning. Spilling blood. Killing. Death. Death. Death...

"Why didn't you say something?" Wyll asks her. She jumps, startled from her thoughts. How long has she been standing there lost in these thoughts?

Wyll's expression is drawn tight with concern. "We can't just let them kill each other," he insists.

Rakha shakes herself, squeezing her eyes shut as if that would shut out the images coming from her mind. "No," she agrees hoarsely. "Come morning... we'll be there. We'll stop them."

Wyll nods, visibly relieved. "Right. Good."

-----

Rakha retreats to her bedroll, curled up as she always is in a hunched position on her side. The blood-pulse thumps in her head, the dark dreams resuming their usual progress, and she doesn't register the sharp schick of a knife pulled from its sheathe. The sound melds with the dreams, matching the blade in a thousand different memories of a thousand different deaths--

She snaps awake at the sound of a sudden scuffle, and then an angry cry from Lae'zel.

Shit.

Shadowheart has Lae'zel pinned into her bedroll, the dagger's blade pressed to her throat. Lae'zel is squirming, flushed with rage, unable to dislodge the weight expertly holding her immobilized.

Rakha finds herself struck by the sudden thought that Lae'zel had no problem pinning her down when the need arose, during their night together. Shadowheart, it seems, is no slouch at physical combat despite her usual position in the backline.

"You had every chance to look the other way," Shadowheart whispers harshly. "But here we are. You chose this."

"Spare me the justifications, coward," Lae'zel rasps.

Shadowheart smiles bitterly. "If anyone asks, I'll say you were transforming. Don't expect to be mourned."

YES. The beast growls hungrily. Swing the blade, cut her throat, let her bleed, soak the bedroll with gore...

No. Lae'zel can't die. Rakha scrambles to her feet.

She struggles, still only halfway to wakefulness, to understand what is happening, how this can be stopped. Lae'zel is angry. She saw Voss's treachery. She believes Rakha mocked her. She seeks a target for her anger and found Shadowheart. Shadowheart is afraid - of Lae'zel, perhaps, or perhaps of losing the artifact, failing the mission she was sent on for the Sharrans.

Attack with purpose. And yet neither of them - not even Lae'zel, whose judgement Rakha has trusted above almost anything - has any purpose here. This is a clash of emotion, anger and fear. The only thing that truly matters is the artifact itself. The protection it offers. The avenue it has given them to safety, and then to vengeance.

This should not even be happening. I am not better than this. Not yet. But you are.

[HALF-ORC][INTIMIDATION] "Your petty quarrels disturbed my rest," she mutters, the words rumbling, sleep-thickened, at the back of her throat. "Stop at once. Or I will *make* you stop."

Shadowheart and Lae'zel both visibly hesitate. Neither of them doubts Rakha is capable of making good on that threat in deadly fashion.

"She's a liability," Shadowheart mutters. "It's the artifact we need, not her."

"Let me up," Lae'zel spits, struggling against Shadowheart's weight. "And I'll show you."

Rakha scowls with a flash of sudden deeper irritation. More foolishness. They need both the artifact and Lae'zel if they are to reach the creche and deal with the worms. This has been the plan from the beginning and hasn't changed. "We need her, Shadowheart. Give her a chance," she snaps.

Shadowheart's lips tighten, and for a moment Rakha thinks the blade is going to fly anyway, and she tenses in anticipation of the wave of blood to follow-- but then Shadowheart shifts, draws back. "Can I do that, Lae'zel?" she asks. "Can I turn my back on you?"

Lae'zel glares up at her furiously. "Never. Thieves aren't afforded such luxury."

Rakha watches with clinical interest, again expecting the blow to strike in spite of her arguments. But Shadowheart surprises her. She lifts the knife, pulls back. "Loosen the grip on your pride for one blasted moment, won't you? We needn't be enemies! There's plenty of those to go around already."

Rakha realizes something surprising in this moment. Shadowheart does not want to kill Lae'zel. Perhaps she didn't right from the beginning. This was posturing-- or perhaps something deeper.

Like Rakha, like Astarion, like Gale - like, in fact, a greater proportion of their little group than is obvious at first glance - Shadowheart is driven by a darkness that is outside of her. Shar's darkness, the force that ties her to the artifact. It was for that, not her own desire, that she held the blade to Lae'zel's throat.

But she did not cut, in the end.

This subtlety is somewhat lost on Lae'zel, who scrambles to her feet ready to lash out. "Tsk," she sneers. "What would you have, that we be friends?"

"Let's not get ahead of ourselves," Shadowheart says warily. "But imagine what we might achieve if we channeled some of that hostility back at our real foes instead of each other. They wouldn't stand a chance."

Lae'zel turns away without answering, but Rakha stands there for a long moment afterwards, chewing over these words. Yes. This is why they stand together - this is why she has held back the beast and not killed these who have become her companions. They are stronger together.

At least when they aren't tearing themselves apart.

[thyandrawrites]

Hope you're doing good?

Doesn't the fact that (now confirmed by the recent leak chapter) shouji was attacked after (like right after) he saved the girl, invalidate his whole argument? Because while he did obviously change that one girl's mind about him, if the act of shouji saving the kid got him those scars in the firt place, what does he think he is going to accomplish exactly?

I mean, I know they're going for 'generational change', really really passing the buck in these situations, but if their goal is to be cool heroes to make things better for their kind and through shouji's story only the one person he saved accepted him, they seem pretty comfortable with a long haul while admitting all the horrible things are still going on? And at least so far, they seem to have no intention (or even a mention) of even returning to those places were the mutant hate is happening?

What do you think about this narrative choice? And do you think what spinner then said was right?

Hey, I'm doing okay, thank you. Just fighting a headache, so I hope that what I'm about to type makes sense.

This chapter shows a return of the argument that oppressed people need to fight for the "right reasons." Except it doesn't really go at length to explain what these reasons are, except for some vague, abstract feels-good ideal that is really no response to the demands of their opponents.

I think that the kids are trying to back away from offering a real solution by pushing a narrative of acceptance and friendship over actual accountability. The two "right" examples offered here both hint towards the same thing. First, there's Kouda's mom, who found an out from a life of harassment about her appearance when she received the unconditional love of her soon-to-be husband. Then there's Shouji and the little girl he saved versus the crowd who attacked him for it. In both cases there's a common denominator. The lesson they're trying to push by citing these examples seems to be that so long as mutants have at least one person on their side, and so long as they have someone they want to protect, it's possible and encouraged to brave through any oppression. Kouda's mom had her husband and son, while Shouji had the one good memory and the little girl's gratitude.

Now, this argument fails to land for several reasons.

One, it downsizes and trivializes a social issue into something much smaller that doesn't need society at large to answer for it. Finding true acceptance in friends and family doesn't cancel out the oppression. It just makes it more bearable, at least for those who are lucky enough to find it. But for them and for those who are not, oppression still remains a very real problem that needs addressing. Saying "but I have friends!" means nothing because having friends is not the point. These people are demanding that society do something about groups like the CRC. They're asking protection from massacres like incident 6/6. In the grand scheme of things, the fact that some mutants found warmth and belonging is irrelevant to the questions currently being asked.

Two, this argument is tone-deaf and self-serving. The hero kids assume they are the only ones here who have friends and people to protect, or just people on their side willing to stick with them unconditionally. That's false. Spinner is literally fighting to free one friend, Kurogiri (which he has stated as the goal of this attack several times now), and to protect another one of his friends, Shigaraki. Spinner accepted AFO's power to protect the League as a whole because the League was the first real home he had. Just like Kouda's mom and Shouji, Spinner also has someone who accepted him for who he is in Tomura. The heroes don't get to use the "I have friends to protect and they love me very much" card if they're not ready for a uno reverse move. It's not the winning argument they think it is. It just shows their ignorance and self-centeredness.

Three, channeling rage into fighting for "the right reasons" and becoming heroes is also not a response to the problem of oppression. If it were, we wouldn't have things like Gang Orca being called villainous or making children cry because of his appearance. The thing is, while entering the hero business gives heteromorphs the chance to discredit the prejudice that their quirks make them all subhuman or villainous, visibility alone doesn't cut it. One thing that would help is using that platform to address discrimination, using their status to help the cause. Ideally, though, heteromorph discrimination shouldn't be on heteromorphs alone to combat. A vast majority of the people responsible for oppression don't do it because they don't know better, like, say, the kids when they called Shouji an octopus. People who created social hierarchies based on quirk privilege will want to stay prejudiced to maintain said privileges. So I find this argument ineffective. It distracts from asking accountability on a societal scale, making it into a private conflict that can be solved with rep and good will.

Imho it's not the fact that Shouji was attacked right after rescuing the child that invalidates his argument then, but rather the fact that he's talking about peas when he was asked about peacocks.

As for the last question, what I think about Spinner. I think he's right, and that the kids are only "winning" this argument because Spinner is too incoherent to string together a counterargument. Like. It's almost hard to watch how Hori is dumbing down the points the villains are pushing forward (enough so that even a rock would understand them) and making the villains easier and easier to save, but the heroes still can't be bothered to save them. They have their work cut out for them but still struggle to get past the very first step. Listening.

Like. The whole thing here is that Spinner accepted these powers (that make him so fearsome and wooooo... Dangerous in the heroes' eyes) because society beat into him the idea that he's worthless so long as he's not strong on his own.

The heroes can talk about the power of friendship all they want. The truth is still that their society is individualistic and quirk elitist as hell. They have rankings. Things like "there is power in numbers and in relying on others for help when you need it" are a very recent development. Like, as recent as Deku's rogue arc. But their society doesn't function on those ideals. In fact, it's engineered to squash those "weak" enough to rely on others to win. Think of Monoma and Shinsou and their respective struggles to be seen as "worthy" enough to call themselves heroes wannabes. Both were called villains simply because they weren't flashy enough on their own, because they needed to borrow their power from others.

Spinner is first and foremost a victim of that society. He didn't fall prey of AFO's schemes because he's a heteromorph (even if AFO instrumentalized this for his own gain). He fell prey because he thought he was useless alone.

This chapter once again brings focus to his need to fill that emptiness in his heart. Unlike Dabi, Stain, Shigaraki—or anyone in the League, really—Spinner doesn't think he has it in him to "change the world on his own"

But he still wants to.

AFO seized this opportunity to manipulate him, and Spinner gave in because he saw no better options to truly make a difference. Let's remember that during the first war arc, when the PLF saw their hideout get stormed in by an army of heroes, Spinner was pretty powerless. He had no big showdown, and even his attempt to wake up Shigaraki backfired.

But if Spinner fell for AFO's machinations, it's because society told him, over and over, all his life, that he's useless so long as his quirk is useless. If he became Godzilla and endangered civilians, it's because he was taught that to be someone he needed to be this strong.

The kids can tell him their inspirational stories all day long, but the reality Spinner lived is still one of kill or be killed. They can tell him that they want to become heroes and change the world all they want, but the truth remains that Spinner was never in the running for heroism in the first place. His quirk was too "weak" and forgettable.

So the point is, while the kids have the luxury of channeling their anger for "the right reasons"—while they can grit their teeth and bear the oppression because they can make a difference in the future—Spinner simply doesn't have that option to fall back on. If he wants social change, he can't rely on becoming a hero to get it. And if "friendship and people to protect" was enough to change things for the better, he wouldn't have seen friend after friend die.

So while his reaction might seem cold or insensitive, I think he has every reason to be angry. The kids aren't offering him any alternatives. They're just casting judgement from their high horse.