#it’s just not as interesting to watch politics as it is to watch fight scenes and murder mysteries

[angstandhappiness]

INTERESTING ADDITION

Lukewarm take, because there's already technically a comic run about it:

Thomas and Martha Wayne would've hated Bruce becoming Batman. Not just because they would hate him putting himself in danger every night, but because they were strong advocates of reform, and helping the people of Gotham in non-violent ways. They used their money for reform-- they were trying to fix up Park Row before they died-- and Thomas helped anyone and everyone he could, despite their backgrounds.

They would've hated that Bruce runs around punching people and then causing some of the worst villains to appear, and then doing the bare minimum to stop them.

They would hate it even more that He did it in their name.

and they would absolutely be horrified that he brought children into his war, and that he needs children to stop him from going too far.

TLDR: When Bruce meets Thomas and Martha in the afterlife, Martha slaps Bruce in the face, and Thomas just sighs and goes, "You remembered all of us wrong after we died."

[usuallydyinginside]

TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

[castellankurze]

Here's the thing that interests me about the dueling scene in Gideon the Ninth. Yeah, the narrative phrasing Harrowhark rose to the occasion like an evening star is peak and the line "Death first to the vultures and scavengers" is pure fire but why is she in that position to begin with?

The situation is thus: Camilla Hect has just won a duel against Marta Dyas attempting to claim the Sixth House's necromancy challenge keys, but she was wounded in so doing. Naberius Tern, backed by Ianthe Tridentarius, is pressing a dueling challenge against the injured Camilla in a flagrant bid to beat Camilla down and take the keys for the Third House while she's already recovering from one match. Gideon is standing by watching things unfold and, to her relief, Harrowhark steps up to put Gideon in the ring as a substitute for the injured Camilla and thus shut down Naberius' vulturing.

Except...why? You'd think that in anything like a polite societal dueling code (I know, I know, but go with it-) Camilla and Palamedes would have the option to demure, saying something like "the Sixth House cavalier just fought a duel and is wounded to boot, piss off for a day and we'll see then." But that's not even floated as an option. Palamedes isn't a dumb guy - far from it - and even if he were out of his element, you'd think someone else could just lean in and say 'dude tell them to shove it.' Judith Deuteros objects by saying "There are rules" and Ianthe shuts that down by pointing out she pressed Marta's duel on incredibly flimsy pretext, so that seems to be an objection on the grounds for presenting the challenge, rather than probing for an option to refuse. If Harrow and Gideon (or Jeannemary, jumping on the bandwagon) hadn't interceded, Camilla was about to fight her second duel back to back.

(Even in the first dueling challenge, the tone of onlookers seems to be that people want Palamedes to default and hand over his key to the Second House to spare Camilla the fight, because they assume the Sixth House is weak and don't know how good Camilla is.)

To sum up: the Sixth House seems to have no recourse but to either accept the repeated dueling challenges or default; with no way to decline except to give the Third House something they want (in this case, a Canaan House key).

That's insane.

And if that's deliberate, rather than an oversight on Tamsyn Muir's part, that suggests so much about the Nine Houses' dueling culture. It suggests that a challenge from a cavalier primary can't be refused; you have to either throw down or roll over as if they won. It speaks to a distinct lack of value placed on human lives, that the cavaliers are forced to accept a challenge on pain of their house losing face at best, something material at worst. The defending house can only negotiate to a degree that the attacking house is willing to let them. This is, depressingly, fully in keeping with the series' characters' treatment of the cavaliers. The subsequent books and short stories (especially The Unwanted Guest) really hammer this idea in, that the cavaliers are nominally viewed as a source of blades and shields in the hands of the necromancers, even if the laypeople of the setting don't know all the reasons behind the traditions.

In real life, formal dueling typically had customs and rules for negotiation and ceremony, with multiple exit points for parties to back out of a potential threat to life without losing face. Only truly aggrieved parties would press a suit to the point of confrontation. The Nine Houses say screw that, put up or shut up. They've more or less raised up the informal tradition of 'swords now motherfucker.'

To steal a phrase from another tumblrite, 'congrats god that's the worst anyone's ever done it.'

[pianokantzart]

YES! GOOD! I’m going to just going to analyze the whole dinner scene, because it’s one of my favorite parts of the movie. 

Mario and Luigi walk in, and immediately the whole room lights up to greet them. Despite everything that follows, one thing is clear: The Mario Brothers are happy to see their family, and the family is happy to see them. 

The whole family confirms that they watched their commercial. Everyone except their mom insists the commercial was a bad idea, but the fact that they all watched it speaks to the fact that there is no indifference regarding Mario and Luigi’s dream. They’re eager to see where this endeavor leads, even if they think it’s going to end in failure. 

The moment Mario and Luigi sit down at the table, their uncles begin laying into them like it’s open season on financially struggling plumbers. Just full blown, no-holds-barred roast mode on their nephews.

Mario is on the defensive, but he doesn’t get angry, he’s just trying to argue his side. Clearly this is typical behavior for Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur. They’re loud, overly honest, and obnoxiously confident in their opinions. Uncle Arthur, thankfully, has his wife to keep him in check. Uncle Tony, however, who is seated next to poor Luigi, is an absolute menace.

Luigi ignores all the teasing. He is only interested in getting food, but this is not an easy task. Tony’s verbal arguments are all directed at Mario, but Luigi is the one who gets prodded and shoved around, and that makes getting dinner next to impossible.

Luigi attempts to serve himself salad, attempts to ask for a roll, attempts to eat the mushrooms being put on his plate, and at every turn he’s either pushed away or talked over. He is clearly very soft spoken compared to the other men in his family, and never quite had the strength to stand up for himself... after all, everyone means well, they just lack self awareness. It isn’t worth the fight. 

Thankfully, Luigi’s mom comes to the rescue, and puts a bowl of soup in front of her boy. She’s the queen of the caretaker role, making sure all the loose ends are tied up and that everybody eats.

But on the flip side, it’s interesting to note that once the uncles start tearing into Mario, Mario’s Dad serves him up a plate of food. He may have just been serving the person next to him because that was the polite thing to do, but I have a theory...

I think that this wasn’t the first night that Mario and his uncles went at each other. I think Mario’s Dad read the room, and figured that if Mario was going to spend dinner playing defense, he should at least remember to eat while doing so.

It also speaks volumes that Mario’s Dad doesn’t voice his disapproval until Mario asks for his opinion. Before then he avoids the subject and lets everyone else do the talking, but so long as he’s being questioned directly, he can’t help but be honest.

“I think... you’re nuts. You don’t quit a steady job for some crazy dream.” This sounds like a voice of experience. Mario’s Dad has the figure of someone who has worked physical labor for a good portion of his life (look the size of those arms). He may have had dreams of his own when he was younger, but he had a wife and kids to worry about, and family took priority. 

Speaking of family taking priority: “... and the worst part? You’re bringing your brother down with you.” That settles it. The conversation has gone from a casual roast session to dead serious. The entire room falls quiet as Mario puts down his fork and storms off. 

“What’d I say?” Everybody at the table (except the niece, she’s long since checked out) gives Mario’s Dad different versions of the look™. Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur have the same “Jesus Christ bro, you didn’t have to go there” expression, and Luigi just looks hurt on Mario’s behalf. His Dad, however, is just confused.  

He didn’t get the gravity of what he said. His relationship with his own brothers– loudmouthed schmucks who call their own shots – is completely alien to what Luigi and Mario have. He probably knows Mario is protective of Luigi, but he doesn’t realize the depth of responsibility Mario feels for him. Anyone can see that Luigi is loyal to his brother, but Mario alone knows how loyal he is, and the implication that he’s betraying that loyalty is intensely painful. 

I doubt Uncle Arthur and Uncle Tony truly relate to Mario and Luigi’s relationship either, but they’ve probably teased Mario enough to understand one thing: bringing Luigi into it is a line you do not cross.

Conclusion:

There is a lot of love in the Mario family.

Uncle Tony and Uncle Arthur are definitely the most insufferable of the bunch, but there is no malice in their teasing. While they are brash and overbearing, it’s all in good fun, and they get visibly uncomfortable when things go too far and someone actually ends up hurt. 

Luigi seems to take after his mother; kind, nonconfrontational, and happily invested in a supporting role. While his Mom cares for and assists the family, Luigi cares for and assists his brother, both emotionally and in his business ventures.

Mario, in the meantime, takes after his Dad, who appears to be the oldest of the three brothers. He doesn’t always think before speaking, but he isn’t constantly running his mouth like Arthur or Tony, and acts with the gravity of someone who bears a lot of responsibility. He doesn’t quite “get” his sons, but he knows enough to see that Luigi follows his brother everywhere, and Mario does not always think before jumping into things. Despite what Mario may believe, his Dad doesn’t see him as a “joke” so much as he sees him as an impulsive young man who doesn’t grasp the consequences of his actions. But Mario does understand the consequences of his actions, he just dreams big, and... thanks to Luigi... actually has the support he needs to pursue those dreams. 

[coefore]

I did it! This is an IDW AU born while watching The Green Knight (2021), specifically from one movie shot that I'd like to redraw. I was torn on whether or not to draw them all as robots or humans, so I started making designs for their human counterparts first - mostly because it is more fun to come up with clothes and accessories. I will eventually tackle a robot version. This is a long post, btw!

Indeed, this is a completely separate version from the Lion King AU I had come up with a couple of years ago, I just borrowed the crowns because I really liked those designs lol.

But let's set the stage under the cut. You can listen to the playlist on spotify dedicated to it: I've placed the songs in sequence so that they can create a certain vibe for the scenes I had in mind. You can read the plot part while listening.

Some character traits

This royalty au supposes a parliamentary monarchy (like the UK, Spain or Japan). This work is an in-between of later Roman/early Medieval aesthetics and some Futuristic Stuff. The Autobot brand is the royal family crest, while the Decepticon brand can be used to signal the Protector and their entourage, but only in formal settings outside the nation. Usually, the Protector can show elements of the Decepticon colours (red) in their attires.

Optimus Prime

Optimus is prideful and domineering: he knows he has the power to do real damage to people. After all, he was born into royalty and has known no other life. He has anger outbursts, but that's a side effect of his paranoia. At the start of the story, he is not the prime yet. He's around 23-24, already suffering from a mental affliction much like schizophrenia, but, just as in ye old days, the court and his father (Zeta) are not really concerned about his odd behaviours. "He is just volatile", you know. He is also dramatic, making big scenes when his emotions are too cooped up. Optimus, though, is not intentionally cruel - this isn't a Shattered Glass au where he wants some kind of bloodlust sated. He has a deep inner mind, feeling much more like a philosopher and a writer than a brute. This makes him a little naive, too, having people in court (like Prowl) taking advantage of him - and sometimes even Megatron uses his influence on Optimus to stir him where he wants to. He reads a lot, is curious, and is deeply in love with Megatron - sometimes becoming a little cringy about it. He can be a bit of a goofball, telling jokes and being rather affectionate with his family. Sadly, he's a Pisces.

Megatron

Megatron is a diligent engineer who just so happens to pick the Prime's son's interest at some point while assisting his father (Terminus, a strict, distant man) in a job at court. Optimus and Megatron are the same age. He is aloof, quiet and a very good listener. That means he often allows people to speak over him or for him - that doesn't mean, however, that he isn't going to correct them or speak his mind. He is just a careful man. Coming from a rather cold family environment, he has a hard time expressing his emotions, both verbally and physically: he kisses and hugs, sure, but that doesn't come naturally to him. After becoming protector, he has a hard time getting used to the court lifestyle since he is quite bothered by the intricacies of royal "rituals", may they be clothing, hairstyles or make-up choices. Or Starscream fussing over him about that all day. He also often stands up against abuse of power, especially from Optimus. They fight quite a lot. He enjoys drawing (buildings, like architecture) and reading novels, but he's not particularly cultured. He is also, sadly, an Aquarius. (And transgender, but this has no political or social bearing in the story besides being Rodimus' biological carrier).

Prowl

Prowl is about fifteen years older than Optimus, becoming his advisor once Zeta Prime passes in "a tragic accident". He is ambitious, cunning and... Deceptive. His ultimate goal is to push Optimus to insanity, convince the parliament he is unfit to rule and become reagent in his stead. This would allow him to create an oligarchy with other senators. His words always support Optimus' delusions, abusing the Prime's naivety for his scheming. Prowl thinks of Optimus as an idiot lucky enough to be born in a high position in the social pyramid. He has attempted various times to "warn" Megatron, one of the few people who is extremely suspicious of Prowl. And by warn, I mean having him pushed down the stairs, giving him a nice broken leg. He also acts suspiciously around Rodimus.

Zeta Prime

Zeta Prime was a balanced, careful ruler. He held concerns about his son's future, as he thought Optimus wasn't fit for a leading role. He was a stern man and often frustrated by Optimus' antics. However, their relationship was on good terms. He was "found" dead by Prowl during a political meeting abroad, as he was standing in for Alpha Trion (Zeta's advisor), prompting Optimus' coronation. Zeta wasn't sick, but all primes in this AU suffer from haemophilia (a hereditary illness that makes it harder for the body to stop bleeding).

Rodimus

Rodimus was born three years into Optimus' primacy. He was brought up in a restrictive environment, as Megatron grew more suspicious of Prowl, fearing for Rodimus' safety. That translated into Rodimus feeling anxious when Megatron's not around (for too long, at least) and becoming a little jealous of him, even if it's Optimus taking Megatron's attention. Rodimus uses "dad" for Megatron and "Father" for Optimus. He doesn't like Optimus too much, usually bearing his presence and ignoring him whenever he can, but deep down he worries about his father, too. He is a very knowledgeable child with a vast vocabulary, as he enjoys books of every kind and, just like his dad, he is a good listener, learning a lot from the "adult conversations" around him. Rodimus is often seen together with Starscream (his nanny, in a way lol), who he is fond of but has difficulties showing it. He becomes Prime-to-be at the age of 16, like all Primes.

Starscream

Starscream was the royal alchemist, an inspired researcher and a man of science. He is loyal and has strong opinions on many subjects, especially on morals and ethics. That is also why, during Zeta's late reign, he was demoted to servant with the accusation of insubordination. He is still a high-grade servant, usually dealing with bureaucracy... Until a new Protector shows up, that is. As soon as Megatron becomes a Protector-to-be, he is assigned the role of first maid in assisting him, a task he takes very seriously. Although Megatron's distance and lack of interactions with him drive him quite mad at first, he slowly realises they're quite compatible. Their relationship evolves into confidants and then friends, as Megatron often takes Starscream's side. Also, Starscream has been suspicious of Prowl since day one. He enjoys Rodimus until he starts being a little opinionated pest-- but he's fond of the child, even as he grows older and more anxious. His hobby is sneaking into the court laboratories and fixing whatever annotations made by other alchemists he deems wrong.

Skywarp & Thundercracker

They are part of the Protector's entourage (and Starscream's brothers). Skywarp is a little airheaded, a bit clumsy, and usually focuses on entertainment, mostly writing poems and songs. He is the only one who knows all the intricate inner passages of the court's buildings by heart, meaning he never gets lost. Thundercracker, on the other hand, is a bit more cocky. He is built like a brick, so he helps with manual tasks and is a decent leader, usually picking up the ranks when Starscream is busy. Both of them were not demoted like their brother, they just started working at the court as high-grade servants. They are very loyal to Megatron, although they treat him more like a royal than a friend.

The Plot (generally speaking)

Optimus is interested in this one engineer working at the court he has seen a couple of times in the last few months. He is gorgeous, and it sounds like a fun time to fill in his afternoons, maybe even getting some sex out of it. That's a thing he hasn't lacked in his life, like most royals he was used to having sex workers available at whim. However, Megatron doesn't seem too affected by the Prime-to-be's attention. He is very deadpan and interested in him as a person; he finds Optimus interesting and funny, so, in a matter of weeks, they kind of hit it off, Optimus falling madly in love with this man, spending most of the time daydreaming and absolutely useless at his duties, much to Zeta's dismay.

As this love story progresses over the next couple of years, Prowl's machination starts rolling out: being a young overachiever, he patiently waits for the chance to get rid of Zeta in a way that doesn't point directly to him. After all, Prowl is trusted and seen as loyal and caring for the Primes he serves; he is an incredibly talented actor, having the support of a few Autobot senators, too. On an out-of-country political trip, he lets Zeta bleed to death, coming back home in a hurry to announce the Prime's death and rushing Optimus' coronation. At this point, Optimus is not mentally ready to hold that position; he is quickly pushed to marry Megatron, making him his Protector. In a matter of a year and a half, Optimus' mental state quickly deteriorates, allowing Prowl to take hold of the neo-Prime's decisions.

Optimus' mental illness worsens, which stresses Megatron into stirring his husband away from Prowl. Rodimus is born in that worried, paranoid environment. Although mostly wanted by Optimus as one of his fixations (and also discouraged by Prowl himself), Rodimus brings more stability to the court. Megatron finally takes hold of Optimus' volatile behaviour as Rodimus grows older, making the Prime doubt his advisor's suggestions more than once. Prowl, thus, "warns" Megatron to lay low, having him pushed down the stairs. The goal wasn't to kill Megatron but to show him Prowl could. As Rodimus turns seven, Megatron becomes more anxious and paranoid, rubbing that over to his son. Optimus doesn't allow them to go around the court or outside without being accompanied.

Prowl's hold on Optimus slowly slips away. At the time of Rodimus' coronation as a Prime-to-be, during a medical examination for his haemophilia, the court physician (Ratchet) tells him he needs to be careful, as that illness was Zeta's cause of death. That was a known thing, of course, but it made Optimus think over the mechanics of his father's death in a way only an obsession-driven man can. He confides with Megatron over his suspicion of Prowl killing his father, and finally, they seem to be on the same page on this...

This is somehow the story up to now. I don't know if I'll update it further. I just enjoy the idea of whatever can happen in this setting. I hope you enjoyed reading this wall of text.

[lupinmoonlight]

Mine

Masterlist AO3

Summary - Some Slytherin boy distracts you during class. Professor Lupin catches him passing you a note. He gets very jealous and gives you detention. Smut ensues, obviously (3,650 words).

Warnings - teacher/student relationship, rough sex, smut, jealousy, implied reader masturbation, no safeword, dom/sub dynamic, marking, biting, possessiveness, not proof-read, my grammar.

Notes - I decided to merge these two requests because I found them quite similar I hope it is okay!! Thank you for being patient. Also, please always use a safeword if you are to engage in such activities, this is just fantasy :)

You sat at your usual spot in the DADA classroom, eyes never straying from Professor Lupin as he lectured. Your attention, however, was not entirely academic. In fact, it was not academic at all. 

Unknown to many, you held a special place in Professor Lupin's heart and for this, he was convinced that Hell had a special place for him. He didn't care, though. Your relationship was secret, concealed, forbidden. But it was strong and intense, bordering on something closer to a possessive obsession. You were his, and his only. And you loved it. 

So you sat there, intently focused on the "lecture", at least you tried, because your concentration today was being constantly disrupted. 

Sat next to you, a boy, noticeably smitten with you, kept stealing glances at you and giggling like a pompous little shit with his friends. Of course, he was a Slytherin. And of course, he was blonde. 

The boy scribbled something on a piece of parchment and stealthily passed it to you. Snapping out of your trance-like focus, you looked at him, slightly confused and, unaware of its romantic implications, took the note and tucked it under your textbook with a polite smile, your gaze immediately returning to Professor Lupin. 

Lupin's keen eyes, which often lingered a moment too long on you during class, caught the exchange. The thought of anyone else, especially a boy, showing interest in you stirred a primal, protective feeling within him. He couldn't help but feel territorial, believing that no one could cherish and care for you as he did. 

He tried to refocus on his lecture about the properties of moonstones in werewolf lore, but his words faltered slightly, his thoughts clouded with an uncharacteristic yet potent jealousy. "That will be all for today," he announced abruptly, ending the class earlier than usual. 

Taken aback, students around you started gathering their things and filing out, but the Slytherin boy and his friends lingered, approaching you with grins plastered on their faces. "Hey, L/N", the boy started, leaning casually against your desk. "About that note..." 

You shifted uncomfortably, feeling cornered yet still oblivious of his intentions. "Um, yes? I haven't read it yet..." 

"You should. It's important," the boy pressed, encouraged by his friends snickering behind him. 

Feeling the pressure, you glanced towards Lupin for a fleeting moment before unfolding the piece of parchment the boy had given you earlier. 

Lupin, pretending to organize his papers, watched the scene unfold with a growing sense of unease. His hands clenched into fists as he fought the urge to intervene. He was not fighting it very hard because the next second, he cleared his throat loudly. 

"Miss L/N, could I have a word?" he called out, his voice unusually stern. 

You looked up, surprised at being addressed by your last name. He never addressed you by your last name. In fact, he never addressed any of his students by their last names. 

"Of course, Professor," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady. 

The boys hesitated, exchanging looks of confusion and annoyance, like they were worth your attention more than Lupin. 

Lupin's gaze turned icy as he addressed them. "Gentlemen, I believe your presence is no longer required here. Please, see yourselves out." 

Reluctantly, the group shuffled out of the classroom, throwing glances with an air of superiority over their shoulders. 

With the classroom now empty, the air felt heavier. Lupin's expression was stern, a stark contrast to the usual warmth he reserved for you. His gaze was fixed on some papers on his desk, avoiding direct eye contact. "Miss L/N," he began, emphasizing your last name again as if to stab you with his words. 

"I need to speak with you about your conduct in class today." 

"Remus, what's wrong?" you responded softly, taken aback by his formality even when you were now both alone. 

His eyes finally met yours, sharp and unyielding. "It's Professor Lupin," he corrected you firmly. "In this classroom, I expect you to address me appropriately." 

Confused and slightly hurt, you corrected yourself, "Yes, Professor Lupin. I'm sorry, I don't understand..."

Lupin sat and folded his hands on the desk, his voice laced with a restraint that bordered on frustration. "Your focus in class today was...lacking. You were distracted, and frankly, it was distracting to me as well." 

Your brow furrowed in disbelief. "Distracted? But I-"

"I am not finished," he interrupted. "Such behaviour is unacceptable, and as a result, you will serve detention." 

Your mouth fell often, but no words came out. This was a side of Remus you had never seen- so cold, so distant. Of course, you were accustomed to his occasional possessiveness, his dominance behind closed doors, but this was entirely different and you couldn't tell if he was serious or not. 

"But, Remus, I don't understand. This isn't like you," you managed to stammer, your voice tinged with hurt and confusion. 

His expression did not soften. "I said, it is Professor, and what is or isn't 'like me' is not for you to decide. What matters is maintaining a proper student-teacher relationship in this classroom. You will serve detention tonight after your last class of the day, and I expect you to not be late. Is that clear?"

"Yes, Professor," you replied quietly, your mind racing with a growing sense of unease. 

"Good. Dismissed." 

You turned to leave, your mind a wild mess of unanswered questions. You glances back at your Professor, hoping for any sign of the warmth and gentleness that you were so used to, but found none. 

If Lupin had found you distracted in his class, it was nothing compared to the rest of the day. Not only did you have to deal with a semi-heartbreak and try to focus on your other classes, but that blonde idiot kept pestering you about going to Hogsmeade with him over the weekend. First, you were not into blondes. Second, you were most definitely not into boys. You were into men. Men old enough to be your dad. Men with scars. Men with gentle eyes. Men with nice hands. Men with a mustache. Men who wore cardigans. Men with voices that sounded like liquid gold and made you fold. Men like...Remus. 

You felt a twinge in your heart at the thought of his name. His name he had forbidden you to say earlier. It was not abnormal though. He often made you call him Sir or Professor when you were alone in his quarters, when you were on your knees before him. But this time it felt different. It felt cold. Distant. Uncharacteristic. 

Your steps echoed in the empty hallways as you made your way to the DADA classroom for your detention. Your head was just as empty. No thoughts. Just Remus. 

Professor Lupin was already there, seated at his desk, when you entered the room. Without a word, he flicked his wand, and the door closed sharply behind you. You noticed another subtle movement of his wand, casting wards around the room. Clearly, what was about to unfold was meant to remain private. 

Lupin didn't rise from his seat, his expression stern and unreadable. "Come here, Miss L/N," he said, his voice strict, almost commanding. 

You walked over, your steps hesitant. He pointed to the space between his parted legs, silently indicating for you to stand there. You did, looking down, unable to meet his gaze directly. 

His voice broke the silence again. "Do you know why you're here, Miss L/N?"

"For detention, Professor," you replied quietly, still looking downwards, although you were starting to understand that you were not here for detention at all. 

"Look at me," he commanded in a tone you didn't hear very often. Usually, this tone was reserved in moments that required you to have a safeword. But right now, your mind was blank. Empty. Useless. And you didn't remember your safeword. And you panicked, silently. 

Slowly, you raised your eyes to meet his. There was a possessive hunger in his gaze that made you shiver. You gasped softly when his wand came into view, slowly tracing the hem of your skirt. The tip gently lifted the fabric, revealing a mark on your thigh - a mark you knew all too well. His creation. 

"Who did this to you?" he asked in a tone that was a strange mix of sternness and curiosity. 

"You did," you replied. 

"No. Who did this to you?" he corrected. 

Your heart was basically in your throat and you were about to combust, but you gathered your courage and let out a quiet "You did, Sir." 

"That's better. And why did I do this?" he continued, watching you intently. 

You hesitated, searching for the right answer. You knew the wrong one could change the course of your interaction. He watched you, a slight smile playing on his lips as he saw your thought process unfold in your eyes. 

"Because I... I wanted you to?" you ventured tentatively.

"No, try again," he urged, a hint of satisfaction in his voice at your struggle to find the right words. He was peeling you apart right there, between his legs, with the mere touch of his wand and a few simple words and he loved every second of it. 

Your heart pounded as the realization dawned on you. He had been jealous. And he was claiming his territory, right where that stupid boy had tried to lure you in. 

"Because I am yours," you said with a little more confidence. 

"That's right," he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. "What a good girl you are, understanding your place." 

Your cheeks burnt with a mix of embarrassment and thrill. You tried to look away, to escape the intensity of the moment, but he wouldn't allow it. He reached out, firmly directing your face back towards his. "Eyes on me," he commanded. 

"It will do you good to remember this feeling, Miss L/N. Remember it when another little boy tries to distract you again, especially in front of me." 

His wand traveled up, pausing briefly over another mark of his on your neck, and continuing its path to your lips, lightly brushing against them. Your breath hitched at the touch, your eyes still locked with his.

"Whose are these?" he asked. 

Your lips parted, but no words came out. You were overwhelmed, momentarily speechless. 

His eyes held yours, patient but expectant. "Y/N," he prompted again, this time using your first name. He was not playing anymore, and you didn't know if you should feel relieved or worried. 

Swallowing hard, you found your voice, albeit a whisper, "Yours, Sir." 

"Very good," he praised. 

He then moved his wand again, this time directing it downwards. He paused for a moment at your waist before sliding it further down, under your skirt. The tip of the wand hovered over your core, gently grazing you through your panties. 

"And what about this? Whose is it?" he asked again, increasing the pressure slightly. 

"Y...Yours, S-Sir," you stuttered. 

"Good girl, you're learning." 

Your gaze dropped down, landing on the bulge in his trousers, evidently straining against the fabric. He abruptly removed his wand and grabbed your chin firmly. "Eyes on me, I said." 

"Yes, Sir," you murmured, your gaze finding his again. 

"Do you want to continue with this?" he asked, and this time his tone was not hard, not stern, not cold. It was just his tone. Just Remus. 

"Y-Yes, Sir," you replied almost instantly. 

"Do you want your safeword?" he asked seriously. He knew that sometimes, you didn't want it. You wanted him to be fully in charge. You wanted him to decide what you could handle and couldn't. It was dangerous, but you trusted him implicitly, sometimes more than yourself. 

"No, Sir," you answered a bit too confidently because truthfully, your mind was too blank to formulate any logical thought, let alone remember a safeword you never used.

"Do you want to please me?" he asked, his gaze insistent and penetrating. 

"Yes, Sir," you breathed. 

His eyes traveled over your body, taking in every curve and contour. "Then show me how much you want to please me," he commanded. "Touch yourself." 

You bit your lip, almost frozen on the spot, before letting your shaky hands move over your body, teasingly caressing your skin through your uniform. Your hands reached the hem of your skirt, and you looked at him, seeking permission to continue. He nodded, urging you on, and you did. You let your fingers travel over your panties, feeling the damp patch there, and gasped as you reached the sensitive bundle of nerves slightly prominent through the fabric of your underwear. 

"That's it," he growled, his voice rough with lust. "Make yourself feel good for me." 

Your breath caught in your throat as you continued to touch yourself, imagining his hands on you instead. You could feel your arousal growing, and you moaned softly, unable to contain your pleasure. 

Lupin's eyes darkened, and he reached out, grasping your wrist. "Enough," he said, his voice low and gritty. 

He slowly pulled you closer, the space between you diminishing until you were mere inches apart. He was so close, you could feel the warmth of his breath as your faces drew near. Just as your lips were about to meet, he stopped, hovering there, so close but not touching. 

"Do you think you deserve this, Y/N?" he asked, his voice a whisper against your lips. 

A breathless "No, Sir," was all you could manage. 

"That's right, you don't," he affirmed. 

A pathetic whine escaped you, a mixture of frustration and desire. 

Lupin let out a low, almost mocking chuckle at your reaction. "Aw, you poor little girl."

Your response was a mix of a sigh and a whispered plea, unable to contain your arousal. 

"But you know," he murmured softly, "I feel rather lenient today." 

Without warning, he pulled you abruptly close, closing the gap between you. Your lips met in a kiss that felt more like a claim, a statement, a declaration. His. His. His. 

His hands traveled to the back of your thighs, pulling you against his arousal. His face buried in your neck, he grazed his teeth against your soft skin before sinking them into it, creating another mark. "Mine," he growled against your neck. 

His hands suddenly left you and the sound of a zipper getting undone filled the room. You dared looking down as he let his erection spring free. 

"Eyes. On. Me." he said again sternly. 

"S-Sorry, Sir," you whimpered as you forced your eyes back up. 

"Take these off for me," he commanded, his finger tugging gently at your panties. 

You obeyed, slowly sliding them off until they pooled at your feet. You stepped out of them before picking them up and placing them onto his desk. 

"Very good. What a good girl," he praised. "Now, come here," he said softly, pulling you into his lap. 

You found yourself straddling him, a position that caught you off guard, eliciting a soft gasp of surprise from your lips. 

You were acutely aware of him, of your proximity, of how exposed you were in the middle of the classroom, at his desk, feeling both vulnerable and...strangely cherished. His hands moved to your face, holding you gently. His eyes, now soft and filled with the familiar warmth you knew so well, silently searched yours. It was a silent question, a non-verbal communication asking if you were alright, if you wanted to continue. 

You met his gaze and nodded, trying to hide how desperate you actually were. 

He shifted his hips slightly, the tip of his length teasing your entrance. "Relax for me," he whispered.

You nodded again and fought yourself with all your might not to simply sink yourself down on him. You were practically shaking and it was pathetic. Almost sensing your lack of self-control, his hands found your hips, gripping them with a force that would certainly leave marks. 

"Someone's impatient," he remarked. "Go on, then. Tell me what you want." 

You swallowed hard, your voice barely above a whisper. "Please, Sir," you begged, doing your best to keep your eyes locked onto his. 

"Tell me. What do you need?" he teased and god it was too much. You tried to lower your hips, to even get just the tip inside of you but he wouldn't allow it. 

"I...I need you...inside me, Sir. Please." 

"There's my good girl," he cooed and with that, he thrust his hips up just enough so that the tip of his length breached your entrance. "Now, show me just how much you want me." 

You didn't need to be told twice. You responded by lowering yourself onto him fully, causing him to groan as your warmth surrounded him. You began moving your hips, slowly at first, because the hands on your hips controlled the pace, but then his grip loosened, one hand moving up to your hair, pulling your head back, the other landing around your neck. 

You started increasing the pace, finding a rhythm that matched his as you began moving together. 

"That's it," he praised. "Take what you want from me." 

You moaned softly, your breath catching in your throat as you felt him going deeper and deeper inside you. 

"What do you want?" he asked, his voice filled with lust. 

"I-I want you, Sir," you panted, your words coming out in short gasps. "I want you to make me yours." 

"Then take it," he commanded. "Take what you want. Take it." 

You cried out in pleasure as you continued to bounce up and down in his lap, your movements becoming more urgent as the pressure in your core built and built. Your mind was a blank slate, filled with nothing but the intense sensation of having him inside you. 

He could feel how close you were, and he tightened his grip around your neck, bringing you closer to him. "Let go for me," he whispered, his lips soft against the shell of your ear, and it was all it took for you to reach your peak.

He groaned at the sensation of you clenching on him, your muscle tightening around his hard length. It was his turn now. His turn to take what he wanted. What was his. With a growl, he hauled you up from his lap and stood before swiftly bending you over his desk, books and quills and ink pots falling to the ground with a clatter. 

He hiked up your skirt around your waist and entered you from behind in one sharp thrust, your body jolting forward as you were forced to balance on your tiptoes. Barely recovered from your orgasm, your face was pressed onto the cold surface of the desk, and he started to pound into you with abandon. 

Grabbing a fistful of your hair, he lifted your head up, forcing you to look at the empty classroom in front of you. "Next time you get distracted by some little boy in my class," he said, his voice filled with disdain, "remember this moment. Remember being bent over this desk. Remember the sensation of having me inside you. Remember how it feels when I take you. When I take what's mine," he growled. "Mine. Mine. Mine," he continued, each word punctuated by a hard thrust. 

You cried out a pathetic "Yes, Sir," unsure if you were able to handle this, but he continued, indicating that you would handle it, even if you thought you couldn't. 

His pace increased, each thrust pressing you further into the desk, his movements becoming jerky and losing rhythm. He was getting close. So close. 

"Fuck..." he breathed as he leaned forward, his body covering yours. "I'm going to fill you up," he growled. "I want you to be full of me." 

With that, he thrust into you one last time, his hips snapping against yours, groaning obscenely as he emptied himself inside you. His hips continued to pump into you with each wave of warmth, as if he was pouring his soul into you. 

Finally, he stilled, and the room fell into a quiet stillness. Lupin, his energy completely expended, relaxed with a deep, contented sigh, his body lightly resting on top of yours. He began to plant gentle kisses along your neck, your shoulders, and the back of your head, each touch a soft echo of his love for you. There was a tenderness in his actions now, a shift that enveloped you in a sense of safety and warmth only he could provide. 

Gently, Lupin slowly withdrew from you, and you whimpered quietly at the sudden emptiness. He waved his wand in a few discrete movements, adeptly cleaning you both with an effortless flick before carefully readjusting your uniform. 

He pulled you close, and you nestled into his embrace, your body quivering slightly from what you had just been through. 

"It's okay. You're okay, love," he whispered soothingly against your hair. 

You whimpered softly against his chest, trying to ground yourself in the steady beat of his heart. 

Gently cradling you, Remus sat down in his chair, his arms enveloping you in a protective cocoon. "You were such a good girl. You took me so well. I love you so much." Gradually, under the gentle cadence of his voice, your breathing began to steady. 

Sensing you were in a more stable state, Lupin carefully shifted his position. He took your hand in his, guiding it with a deliberate tenderness until it rested over his heart. Through the fabric of his shirt, the steady thump of his heartbeat was strong and real under your palm. 

"And whose is this?" he asked softly, his eyes meeting yours with a playful glint. 

You let out a quiet giggle and simply said "Mine." 

[wildestdreamsblog]

Latibule Spinoff: Elysian

Pairing: Doctor/Mafia!Kim Seokjin x Intern!Reader 

Warnings: Yandere behavior, Possessiveness, Manipulative behavior, If you’re not 18+ please, PLEASE, do not interact. Be mindful of the warnings. Let me know if I miss anything.

A/N: BECAUSE DADDY'S HOME! I am so, so so so so happy he’s back. Extremely proud of our blorbo. My heart is fulllll. Also pls note that Latibule and Elysian’s timeline is happening simultaneously 😁

Masterlist, Part V of __

“What the fuck is wrong with him?” Jung Hoseok asked as he watched incredulously his brother, Kim Seokjin, ‘fought’ with Taehyung.

Or rather, as he watched him willingly got beaten up by the younger man. This was a rather peculiar event as their oldest hyung was rarely seen to be in this state. He always thought he was above petty brawls even when the maknaes begged the mafia prince to spar with them. They knew how good he was, if not the best among them. He had rigorous trainings since he learned how to walk. In fact, they witnessed how good he was, but Kim Seokjin was never one to brag about his skills. On the other hand, he always took pride on how he looked, never one to be seen with even a strand of hair out of place. His clothes were never seen with any crease at all that one would think he didn’t move throughout the day. It was so ridiculous that his pairs of sleepwear were of the highest quality. You’d never catch this man slipping.

See, one would think that he was truly a prince because of the standard he held himself in.

But now, he was not even pretending to put up a fight even as Taehyung landed blows after blows until the younger man hesitated. Even someone as emotionless as him knew something was wrong which proved just how peculiar their hyung was acting. Had he been in his right mind, he wouldn’t even let Taehyung’s fist near his ‘glorious’ and ‘worldwide handsome’ face. Well, his words and not theirs.

Hoseok and Namjoon, on the other hand, knew for certain that should Seokjin wanted to fight, he could do so. After all, they witnessed firsthand the unhinged and dangerous version of their hyung before he decided that he would rather pamper his skin with expensive creams and serums than the stark blood of his enemies, and well sometimes, even friends.

“Hyuuuung!” Taehyung finally snapped, pouting at Seokjin who had blood dripping from the open gash on his forehead. “You agreed!”

Seokjin rolled his eyes as he wiped the blood on his plump lips. “Did I? Because I vividly remember that you asked me to spar and I didn’t say anything.”

“You stood up and went in the ring with me!” Taehyung snapped back, his eyes wide before looking at his brothers as though to point out how ridiculous Seokjin was being.

Namjoon quietly chuckled at the scene in front of him. They were gathered somewhere in an unnamed basement building and two of his brothers were sparring as the four other brothers keenly watched as though this was the most interesting thing in their life. If anyone saw these six distinguished men in their respective fields acting like this, Namjoon thought that they wouldn’t even believe their own eyes. Heck, this dark basement had two distinguished police officers, the top doctor in the country, actor who won the most prestigious awards, a tech genius with numerous connections with the world leaders, and yours truly, the best attorney in the country that had a stellar case win rate and was constantly being asked by political groups to join them. They were just missing the chief of police, Min Yoongi. They still couldn’t reach him since last week.

They were used to him vanishing like that, but Namjoon’s senses told him that this time it was different. His eyes shifted to the smiling man next to him, his phone capturing the scene like he was always fond of doing. He couldn’t help but noticed the slight limp he was sporting when he walked in. His draconic eyes shifted to the faint bruises in his knuckles which he claimed were all from training.

“Right, Joonie?” Hoseok suddenly turned to him, his pleasant smile ever present on his face.

“What?” he blinked, suddenly dawning on him that everyone’s attention was on him.

“Where are you? Is Namjoon in the room with us?” Hoseok kidded before playfully bumping his shoulder. “I said, hyung didn’t explicitly give his consent to the sparring. Taehyung was wrong-“

“Hyuuuung!” Taehyung stomped his foot in indignation, acting like the baby they knew he was.

Jungkook chuckled as Tae’s statement, thoroughly enjoying the scene. “You hit Jin hyung without his consent. Tsk tsk.”

“But he went in the ring and stood there! Taetae is not wrong,” Jimin defended his agemate before letting his Slytherin ways that had always thrived in chaos won. “But then again, Taehyung, how can you hit that face? Come on, man, that’s just wrong.”

And chaos ensued as all five of them spoke over one another while the subject of the chaos was emotionlessly wiping the blood on his face with his towel he probably imported from Japan. He didn’t care of the chaos brought by his nonchalance in the violence, taking his sweet time to gulp water from his bottle as though nothing bothered him, as though the wounds and forming bruises on his body didn’t hurt.

“Fine, fine!” Taehyung relented, raising both his hands to stop the verbal assaults being thrown from both sides. “But why did he let me hit him so many times?! He could have stopped me! Hell, he could take all of us if he wanted to!”

“That makes sense,” Jungkook agreed, nodding his head before turning his doe eyes to his hyung who was now silently looking at his phone. “If noona sees you like this, she won’t like you anymore.”

“She already doesn’t like me.”

That was the first time he opened his mouth that night after brooding in the basement for so long and spreading his dark energy. Even Jungkook who was always found to be sitting next to him in any occasion opted to sit on the other side of the room.

“Who’s she?” Namjoon asked, his brows pinched together from confusion and curiosity. Girl? Hyung was with a girl when he didn’t even look at them before because, as he quoted, ‘why bother when his visual was better that theirs?’

“You know? The girl I posted in my Instagram story with hyung?”

At Namjoon’s blank stare, Jungkook exploded. “You still hadn’t followed me back?! The audacity, Attorney Kim! Until now, I’m still stuck as a liker and commenter on all your posts! All you follow is your secretary and all you post is her son and her! And plants! It’s like I don’t matter to you-”

“Okay, so who’s she?”

Jungkook blinked, “She’s a doctor in hyung’s hospital. She’s kind and pretty, and she likes Taylor Swift, and she bought me samgyupsal. And you!”

He pointed at his Jin hyung with accusation in his eyes. He squinted his doe eyes at him before sauntering near to him. “What did you do?”

Seokjin lifted his dark eyes on him before putting down his phone. “Why do automatically think it’s something I did?”

“Noona literally had heart in her eyes when she looked at you! And am I wrong? Was it not your fault?”

His silence was enough to confirm Jungkook’s accusation. He scoffed as he straightened up and thought to himself that somehow, in a room full of intelligent and capable men, he was surrounded by idiots.

“Fix it or else I’ll give the engineer in my office her name. He’s been pestering me to introduce noona to him ever since he saw her on my Instagram and I might just give it to him-“

“What’s his name?!” Seokjin cut him off, suddenly standing to his full height and with so much force that the chair he was sitting on fell back to the ground.

“No!”

“Get back here and give me his name!”

“I’m leaving!”

“Jeon Jungkook, you get back here right now! Where does he live?!”

-

Had you been an outsider to all this fiasco, then you would surely feel sorry for he-who-shall-not-be-named aka Voldemort aka Kim Seokjin. Had you been an outsider to this situation, then you would surely find this all funny.

But you weren’t. You were, in fact, in the middle of it all.

You decided the moment you went home after he slandered your name, belittled you, and short-of shouted at everyone that he would never fall for you because you didn’t pass his taste. In fact, and you quoted, you were ‘so below him’ and you weren’t the same stature as him that he was embarrassed for someone to even think that he felt something for you.

What a dramatic person, you thought. Why would you be hurt over a crush? Why would you even cry over it?

You sat with your feelings that weekend. You thought and thought hard enough to know that the reason why you bawled your eyes out the moment you exited that coffee shop and why you lost your appetite and stayed in bed was because all he said was the truth.

Were you beneath him in stature? Check.

Was his taste in women beyond you? Check.

Were you below him? Check.

Did he only entertain you because you were funny? Damn right you were. You were hilarious as fuck.

But still, you called in sick for work after weekend passed. You were still hurt and quite frankly, too embarrassed to even see him or any people from the hospital that knew how hard you were chasing him. You sat with your feelings long enough to realize that just because some guy, no matter how perfect he was in the outside, didn’t like you back did not mean that it was the end of the world. Your mother did not raise a weak woman. Well, she really didn’t raise you, but anyway!

You decided to do exactly what you did best.

Avoidance.

According to an article written by Lebow in 2022, somatic avoidance refers to steering clear from situation that elicit a physical response similar to anxiety or stress response. Right now, you were actively avoiding your greatest stress in life. So when you met his eyes as you walked to the entrance of the hospital, you pretended to not see him. You continued as though nothing was amiss, as though seeing him after hiding and housing your pain for days did not affect you in any way. You weren’t blind, though. You couldn’t help but notice how exhausted he looked. You couldn’t help but notice a faint bruise on his otherwise perfect face. You felt the gnawing curiosity forming in your mind as to how he got that when you thought that he was someone who would never get into a fight. Foolishly, you thought that he was someone who would rather resolve issues in a calm and civil manner than inflict pain on other people.

“Y/N, wait-”

You continued walking and like the asshole that he was, he didn’t take the hint that you didn’t wish to speak to him, nor hear whatever he had to say. He had embarrassed you enough to last a lifetime. The distance you placed between the two of you were rapidly closed by his long legs. If he noticed how you were almost running to the elevator to escape him, he didn’t say anything. By some miracle, you lost him as the lobby was now bustling with patients, visitors, and employees alike. You greeted your colleague as you entered the elevator. She was making small talk about what happened during your absence, yet you were too distracted to engage. Instead. you repeatedly pushed the close button, which she frowned at.

“Hey, what’s the rush?” she asked as she watched you act peculiarly.

“Just…you know. Running late.”

“Honey, it’s 6 in the morning.”

The doors were finally starting to close, and you let out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. You knew it was too soon to celebrate when the door barely closed because just as the gap was about to disappear completely, a hand shot through, triggering the sensor and causing the doors to slide back open. Your stomach dropped as he stepped into the elevator, his eyes locking onto yours. The small, enclosed space suddenly felt suffocating.

Kim Seokjin stared into your eyes as he entered. His dark eyes held yours hostage even as you scooched to the left side of the lift. He sighed, merely nodding at the greeting of your coworker. His broad shoulders made the lift seemed small when it was anything but.

It was three floors later, and yes, you counted. You’d honestly rather watched the elevator screen than turned to him as he blatantly looked at you.

“Doctor Y/N–“ He started, almost making you jump when he broke the silence.

“Oh my God, what’s that?” you turned to your colleague, and now, a victim of your pettiness.

“What?” she frowned, sensing the tension between the two of you and wanting nothing but to get off the lift.

“I just felt chills in my right side,” you answered, rubbing your arms because fuck it, you were going to show him how good you could act. You didn’t join the theatre when you were in high school for the fun of it! Nope, it was just that you had always been dramatic and you thought it would be a waste of God-given talents, really.

She lifted her eyes sheepishly at the doctor that held the highest position in the hospital who only had eyes on you. “Y/N, that’s Doctor Ki-“

“Like a disturbed ghost. Very scary,” you shuddered exaggeratedly before clasping your hands and murmuring a short prayer. “I hope he finds peace. Or not.”

Seokjin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his eyes narrowing slightly. Your colleague glanced between the two of you, clearly uncomfortable and unsure of what to say.

The elevator dinged again, the doors sliding open, and you took the opportunity to escape the ghost of your past aka Voldemort. Fuck it, you thought. You’d rather walked five flights of stairs than stay another second with that man. Honestly.

You thought that was the end of it. You wished it was the end of it and you couldn’t be more wrong.

It was late at night when you finally finished your work. Your back was killing you, and you felt like another cup of coffee wouldn’t wake you up but rather send you to an early death. You were definitely not looking forward to your commute back to your apartment. Regardless of the weariness you felt, you couldn’t help but feel satisfied with the work you did today. You thought that you lucked out on the career path you chose because you were able to help people heal where it was the hardest to heal in.

But heavens, you just wished this job paid better.

You sighed as you exited the hospital, and you sighed even deeper when someone stepped in front of you. You knew before you even lifted your eyes who it was. The polished shoes and the obviously expensive suit were enough telltale signs that you were once again in front of him and that he was once again going to bother you.

“Are you going home?”

You looked directly at him for the first time since that day. And damn it! He looked good, you hated it. You tilted your head to the side when he smiled at you. “Come on. It’s late. I’ll drive you home.” He pointed at his expensive white car that was conveniently parked in front of the entrance, a clear violation of the hospital premises rules. But who were you to talk, anyway. He was the damned owner, and he could do whatever he wanted, apparently.

You scoffed as you walked away from him, spotting a taxi that just dropped off a passenger in front of the hospital. You’d rather commute than go with him, you thought. Just as you opened the door, a particularly large hand pushed it close. You looked up to see him leaning down and handing the taxi driver crisp bills.

“Leave.”

Never had you witnessed a taxi drove as fast as he did away from you, the tires screeching dramatically as he sped away from the building.

You turned to him, anger and irritation coursing through your veins. You were physically, mentally and emotionally tired. This was the last thing you needed tonight.

“That was rude.”

He lifted his dark brows at that. He looked down at you and only then did you notice that the hair he usually kept neat seemed slightly disheveled.

“Actively avoiding me, calling me a ghost, and walking away from me when I’m talking to you is what’s rude,” he shot back, his voice just as dark as his eyes.

“Calling me beneath you is ruder, don’t you think? Acting like you were my friend when you were merely toying with me is more improper, don’t you think?”

He flinched at every shot you took. His blunders were by no means light, but he wanted-. No. He needed to make this better. He couldn’t sleep, he couldn’t eat and his face lost the glow he had always bragged about! This was a disaster, and this was him putting it on a lighter note.

“I’m-“

“Look, buddy,” you breathed, easing the irritation you were feeling. “What will make you stop?”

“I want to apologize-“

“K. Do it,” you cut him off with a wave of your hand, wanting this to be done so that you can at least get a roughly five hours of sleep once you get home.

He frowned, blinking rapidly at your sudden change of heart. “I’m sorry. I’m terribly sorry-“

“Forgiven. Bye.”

Part VI

[maaikeatthefullmoon]

I’ll forever be grateful to Rob, Rhi, the Pratchett Estate & Narrativia for fighting for Good Omens.

It’s exceedingly clear that we, as fans, owe them A LOT. And we need to thank them. And we DON’T do that by acting as petulant children and not watching what they create. So don’t boycott, or whatever some people are calling for. Yes, polite calls for more time, budget, etc are great. Childish tantrums, no. It just ends up in your toys being taken away. Trust me.

I’ve found a lot of people’s assumptions regarding the finale’s plot interesting. Terry never witnessed the fan reaction to the series. Sure, there was shipping of Aziraphale & Crowley, but nothing like after it hit TV.

I doubt he would’ve really cared all that much, either.

His focus would be on the intricacies of the Armageddon 2.0 storyline for this finale. The zombies (dudes [gn], there’ll be undead everywhere), Jesus coming back, etc. We know he’d want to discuss the underlying nuances of the politics in Heaven & Hell and how they’re just two sides of the same coin. And isn’t it all of Them vs all of Us?

Of course our Ineffable Duo will be there. But don’t forget they weren’t actually the sole focus of Good Omens, the novel. The one Terry wrote 75% of.

I really hope we’ll get 1941 Pt 3, and a few other bits of historical context, but for the most part, that’ll be left to us to write in fanfiction.

GO The Finale will, in all likelihood, focus almost exclusively on the here & now.

I’d really recommend to anyone struggling to have a (re-re-re-x infinite)re-read of the novel, and other Pratchett works, particularly his Discworld novels. Small Gods and Pyramids are good ones for religion.

Anyway, enough from me. I’ll definitely be writing more in-universe fanfic, especially as it’s unlikely we’ll see any of the historical scenes I’ve been wanting to research. I’ve got a BIG work planned which I’m doubly committed to writing now.

[inlovewithquestionablecharacters]

Hello I don’t know if you’re currently taking requests but let me tell you. I need more about Milo. If you can. Like he became possessive with reader, jealous of everyone near her.

Milo X Reader: You belong to me

Warnings: Fighting, bar fight, bone breaking, drunk men, sleazy men, smut, dirty talk, dom x sub (kind of), dom Milo, possessive Milo, ass bitting, fingering, making out, penetration ( p in v), unprotected sex, pet names.

Word count: 3K

He's staring again, he knows he is. He also knows he shouldn't but he can't help it. Not when you look like that. You're at the edge of the bar sipping a drink Milo can't quite recognize. He's known you for years but he never noticed what your go to drink was. Perhaps it was because he had been too occupied pretending the pain in his leg wasn't killing him to care or maybe it was because it didn't really matter. He would never be the one to approach you, your favorite drink in hand as he flirted his way into your heart. You'd never made him feel undesirable. He didn't believe you had it in you to make someone feel something like that but you didn't have to, his brain did the work for you. Self loathing does wonders to one's confidence. 

Milo has been watching you for a little while now. You hadn't invited him to the bar. It had been a coincidence. He'd sauntered into the pub, his mind set on finding a pretty thing to take home. He needed to test the waters of his new powers and he wanted company to do it. A special kind of company. He had expected to find someone random, anyone who peaked his interest enough. He wasn't expecting to see you, in fact, it was the last thing he expected but he would be lying if the sight of you didn't ignite something inside him. 

He still hadn't worked up the courage to walk over. This would be the first you saw him like this. The first time he'd talked to you since the "change". It thrilled him but it also scared him. He wondered how you would react. Would you just stare or would you scream at him for his irresponsible actions? He wouldn't be able to take the look of disappointment on your face. He remembered when you first found out about Michele's unorthodox studies. You didn't  speak to the doctor for a week which to some may seem like a small amount of time but that's because they had never met you. They had never had the pleasure of being around you long enough to feel the radiant energy that seeped from you. His fear of your opinion glued him to his spot but it didn't stop him from admiring you. Milo had almost accepted the fact that, despite wanting with all his heart to whisk you away from this dingy bar, you'd probably go home alone. It wasn't until a man approached you that Milos mind changed. He watched the man stumble towards you with a drunken smile on his face. You shuffled slowly to the side trying to put a small distance between the two of you. Milos' hands clenched at his side, his features turning into a scowl as he watched the scene before him. He saw you let out an uncomfortable laugh before shaking your head in a polite no. Milo noticed the way the man's body language shifted at your actions radiating a sort of dangerous energy. Milo didn't like it at all. Before his mind could compute what he was doing his body moved in your direction, his legs moving in steady steps. Milo had gotten to you just as the man had reached out to grab your arm, his body working as a barrier between you and the man. You glanced up at Milo with a look of visible confusion on your face.

“There you are darling. Was wondering where you'd gone.”

“Milo…”

His name left your lips in a breathy whisper sending a chill down his spine.

“Hey asshole we were talking.”

“You know this guy?”

You shook your head timidly, your body moving closer to Milos as you searched for safety. Milo placed his hand on your arm before turning to look at the other man.

“You heard the lady. She doesn't feel like talking to you.”

“That is not what she said.”

“Yeah because she's too polite for that. Luckily for her i’m not, so i'll say what she’s really thinking.”

Milo paused for a moment, his ears picking up on the beating of your heart. It was a bit slower than it had been when he arrived but it was still faster than it should be. The heartbeat of someone who was afraid. The noise seemed to snap something inside Milo's brain, a sudden feeling of rage coming over him.

“Fuck off.”

You let out a small gasp at Milo's words, your fingers digging into his forearm. 

“Milo leave it, let's get out of here.”

He hated the way your voice shook as you spoke. He hated the fact that this man had gotten to you. He wanted to rip this neck open in front of this entire bar. He wanted to show them all that you were under his protection and that anyone that messed with you would have to deal with him. But the way you clung to him brought him out of his rage filled daze. He turned to look at you, his hands moving to push a stray hair behind your ear.

“Okay darling, if that's what you want.”

With one meaningful glance at the man Milo turned around, placing his hands on your hips as he guided you away from the bar and towards the door. You’d barely made it five steps when Milo felt something wet on his shoulder. He heard your scream of his name followed by the sound of glass shards falling to the ground. Milo didn’t give himself enough time to think before he pushed you away, his body turning around to face his attacker just as the man prepared himself to land a punch on Milo's face. His fist came in contact with Milo's body but not in the way he’d wanted it to. Instead of knocking into Milos cheek the man's hand found its way into Milos open palm, his eyes widening in fear as he made eye contact with the vampire. Milo twisted the man's arm, cracking the bone with ease. You watched with wide eyes as Milo tugged the man against his chest and whispered something in his ear before shoving him away. The man stumbled to the  ground using his unharmed hand to drag himself away from Milo in fear. Milo turned towards you, one hand pushing his hair back as the other reached for your arm. You let Milo drag you away from the bar, your legs moving quickly in order to keep up with his long strides. It was only then that you noticed he was walking without difficulty and without a cane. You stopped walking, your body freezing in the middle of the sidewalk causing Milo to stop as well. He turned to look at you, the anger in his features slipping away as he saw the fear on your face.

“Milo how are you…how did you-”

“It doesn't matter.”

“How the fuck can you say that? You just broke that guys like it was made of fucking paper!”

You glanced down at his legs.

“And you're walking like it's no problem.”

“What a big deal? People do that everyday.”

“Well you're not like most people Milo! You’re-

“What? A sick man? A weakling? A good for-”

“Stop it! I’d never call you any of that and you know it you jerk!”

You turned your face away from Milo, your hands going to wipe away the tears that had started to fall from your eyes. Milos' shoulders sagged at the sight. You just been through hell and here he was yelling at you like you were in the wrong. He called out your name, making you turn to look at him. Your lip shook slightly, making you bite on it in an attempt to look strong.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you. Please forgive me.”

He opened his arms to you with a silent request for a hug. You waited for a second before letting your body collide into Milos. He pulled you as close as he possibly could, burying his face into your hair. He listened as your heartbeat calmed down, a small sigh leaving your lips.

“Thank you.”

“Gotta be able to protect what’s mine.”

The words left Milos' lips with little effort. It wasn't until he felt your body tense that he noticed what he had said. He waited in silence, trying to see how you’d react. You shifted against him, lifting your head so you could look into his eyes. When you met his gaze and  saw the primal like expression in them your breath caught in your throat. You had no idea what had happened to him. Even though he looked the same as he always had there was something different about the way he looked at you. He looked at you like he was a lion and you were a juicy piece of meat. And though it startled you it also sent a thrill down your spine.

“What’s yours hum?” 

Your hand trailed down Milos chest fingers running over the clothes ridges of his abs.

“Yes…”

“And what do you do with what’s yours?”

He couldn't take it anymore. Not with the way your body felt warm against him and the way you bit your lips as you spoke. Milos lips crashed into yours, his hands tangling into your hair as he kissed you. You let him grab onto your body, a small moan leaving your lips when he gives your ass a squeeze. He loved the sounds you made as his hands moved against you. You break the kiss, the need for air getting to you. Milos hands don’t leave your frame, his fingers digging into your hips as he rests his forehead against your.

“Take me to your house.”

“With fucking pleasure darling.” 

You’ve been inside Milo's house a thousand times and you knew the layout like the palm of your hand. Even so you managed to walk into the wrong room. You blamed Milo. The way he tugged at your body in desperation left your brain dizzy. You glanced around the room, eyes falling on the desk in the corner.

“This isn’t your bedroom.”

Milo raised his head, detaching his lips from your neck. 

“You’re right it's not. But this works.”

“There isn't a bed Milo.”

“Oh darling, who said we need a bed?”

A smirk spread across Milo's face as he watched your eyes widen before glancing to look at the desk once more.

“Well what are you waiting for? Get over there.”

“You want me on your desk?”

“I was thinking more like over my desk but on works too.”

You rubbed tights together at the sound of Milo's voice. You weren’t used to seeing this side of him. He was usually quiet and slightly melancholic. The man in front of you wasn’t like that at all. The man in front of you was demanding and sexy. You'd be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy it.

“I thought I gave you an order darling.”

Milos hand wrapped around your throat squeezing lightly as he leaned down to give your lips a quick peak.

“Get over there. Now.”

“Yes sir.”

You turned around a yelp leaving your lips when you felt Milos hand come in contact with your ass in a rough slap.

“That's my good girl.”

“All yours sir.”

Milo licked his lips making his way to you. He watched as you hopped onto his desk, spreading your legs so that he could see your underwear. A moan left Milos lips as his eyes caught a look at the lace you wore.

“Planning on getting fucked tonight?”

“I was actually. Just wasn’t expecting it to be by you.”

Milos smile drops at your words. He leans in closer, placing his arms beside each of your thighs, caging you with his body. You swallow dry at the sight of the scowl on his face worried you’d angered him somehow. You had made him angry but not at you. Oh no. He was angry at everyone else. Angry at the others that had gotten a chance to look at you, touch you and taste you before him. He loathed them but he couldn’t change the past. The only thing he could do is make sure that for this day forward he was the only one who could have you like this. Milos eyes bore into you the silence making you uneasy but then he gave you a sly grin and you calmed down a bit.

“You think that…”

Milos hands made their way in between your legs rubbing your clothed clit as he spoke.

“Anyone could fuck you better than i can?”

Your hips bucked as Milo pushed your underwear aside playing with your folds for a moment before inserting a digit into your cunt. Your lips fell open as you moaned, closing your eyes as Milo fucked your with his fingers.

“I asked you a question.”

“No i-ugh shit- don’t think anyone can fuck me better than you.”

“And who do you belong to?”

“Ah-fuck please- you Milo. I’m yours, I'm all yours.”

“Good girl.”

You placed your hands behind you, fingers digging into the wooden desk beneath you as Milo kept up his brutal pace.

“Wanna cum pretty thing?”

“Yess please Milo…so close-oh-please don’t stop.”

“Okay i’ll let you cum but first you gotta give me a kiss.”

You pushed yourself up so that you were closer to Milo, one of your hands finding his cheek. He smiled at you, plunging his fingers as deep as he could. You launched forward, giving him a rough kiss. 

“Cum princess, go on cum on my fingers.”

He didn’t have to ask you twice. Your body stiffened as your orgasm washed over you, your hands snaking their way across Milo's shoulders as he worked you down from your high. Your body sagged into his as he removed his fingers from your pussy and brought them to his lips. He licked his hand clean of  your juices, head falling back at the taste of you.  

“Taste so good darling.”

“Yeah?”

“That perfuct fucking pussy.”

“Your perfect fucking pussy.”

Milos dick twitched at your words the sultry tone in them making him feel impossibly harder. You seemed to notice the way his hips shifted closer to you. Your hands made their way to his pants unbuttoning them before reaching into his boxers. Milo groaned as you pallmed his cock making you smirk up at him.

“Happy to see me?”

“You have no idea.”

“I think I got a pretty good feeling.”

Milo laughed, placing a kiss to your cheek as he pushed your hair away from your face. You moved your face so that you could place Milos fingers into your mouth. He watched as you sucked on his digits, never breaking eye contact. You removed his fingers from your mouth with a pop.

“Can I take care of you Milo?” 

“As much as I would love that darling, I need to be inside you.”

“OKay. How do you want me?”

Milo pulled you off the desk flipping you around so your back was pressed to his chest.

“Lay down darling.”

“Yes sir.”

You did as he asked your ass brushing against his hard on as you did. Milos hands moved to your hips pulling your dress up so that he could get a good view of your ass. He let out a wolf whistle as he grabbed your cheeks. 

“Now that’s an ass I could get used to kissing up to.”

“What's stopping you?”

Milos grinned at you leaning down and giving your butt a soft bite. You pressed your face into the desk at the feeling, your pussy clenching around nothing.

“Delectable.”

“Thank you.”

“Oh don’t thank me just yet darling. I’m about to ruin you.”

“I wanna see you try.”

“Is that right?”

“Uh hum.”

Milos hands ran up your bare thigh, his fingers toying with the edge of your underwear before ripping it off in one quick motion. You gasped as the cool air hit your exposed cunt. It wasn't long before the chill air was replaced with the feeling of Milo's warm skin. He inched his dick into your pussy slowly, trying not to cum at the feeling of your walls fluttering against him and the sounds of your squeals. Once he was fully inside he tugged your hair, forcing you to lean off the table. You could feel the outline of Milos abs against your back as he leaned down to suck on your neck.

“This is that last warning darling. Last chance to back out. If I start now I won't be able to control myself.”

“Lucian i swear to god if you don’t fuck me right now.”

Before you could even fully finish your phrase Milo had laid you back down on the desk and started pistoling  into you. He’d bring his dick almost all the way out before plugging it back in all the way. Your nipples rubbed against the wood as your body rocked with Milos movements. You could feel the desk creaking beneath you a twinge of worry entering your system but quickly vanishing. So what if he broke the desk? He could afford a new one. What he couldn't afford was cumming before you. Milo's hands found their way to your clit, rubbing it exactly. He felt you clench around him as you came causing him to reach his own orgasm. Your body fell lip on the desk, whimpering as you felt Milo pull out. You shut your eyes listening to Milo walk to the other end of the room. He returned with a wet towel, gently cleaning up the cum that had started to leak down your thighs. You whispered a small thank you, far too tired to move. Milo threw the towel on the floor, his hands wrapping around your waist as he pulled you off of the desk. He sat down on his chair tugging you into his lap. You nuzzled into Milos neck, sighing contentedly. Milos' hands stroked your hair, observing you as sleep seemed to take over your body. He placed a kiss to your hair breathing in your scent. A scent that had been made for him and only him. Everything was just as it should be: you in Milos arms. The place which you’d always belonged to.

[gffa]

The Acolyte's first two episodes were a mixed bag imo. The scenery and costumes and fight sequences are absolutely gorgeous, the show is visually stunning and feels a lot like Andor did, but there's something missing in the heart of this show. The entire first episode, with every reference and familiar point, I just felt like this was a show where someone had read a Wookiepedia article, rather than that they were actually that familiar with Star Wars. I'm not sure I could put my finger on everything why, it wasn't just one thing, but the worst thing for me was the way Vernestra was written. Nothing of her scenes felt like herself from the books, despite that, yes, she's reserved and a little uptight in the books, there was a warmth to her that barely came through here, she was very focused on how the Jedi would look politically or how they needed to discuss things instead of acting on the information they had--neither of those are bad things! She's not wrong! She just doesn't feel like Vernestra. The second episode was a lot better, when Sol and Mae had their conversation about her grief and he urged her to let it go, because what she wanted was revenge, and look what revenge had done to Mae, that felt like, yes, this scene nailed it! This scene understood the assignment. Sol is a great character so far, Osha is a great character so far, I'm vaguely intrigued by the mystery they're setting up about what happened 16 years ago, and while I wouldn't say it's a must-see series, you're fine to skip it so far, but I liked it well enough. It was fun to see Jedi in live action looking like they came straight out of the Clone Wars, just with fancier clothes, and I love that the Jedi are allowed different personalities and I like all of them. Sol is fantastic. Osha loves the Jedi, even after she left them. Indara was hot as all get out and went down like a Jedi badass, by saving someone. Jecki is pure delight. Yord is an uptight disaster whom I love, he's wound pretty tight but when push came to shove, he stood up for defending what was right, when he could plainly see Osha was innocent. The makeup is a mixed bag--Vernestra looks like she spent an hour in the makeup chair, meanwhile Jecki's Theelin makeup looked gorgeous. Some of the Jedi robes look a little stiff, a hint of high end cosplay to them, but Indara's looked great. So, watch it if that's you're interested in! I thought it was fun, visually stunning but lacking some heart in the opening episode, it leans a little fanon more than canon, but not intolerably so (some off-kilter but not horrible use of The Attachment Discourse), and I don't think it'll set Star Wars on fire or anything, but it's a fine addition to the collection.

[pumpkinbxtch]

Good morning Punpkin, a request please, how does Octavius ​​feel if he is in love with the reader, but since this man is proud he will never say it, while he sees the reader and Apollo kissing from afar

﹏ the most cowardly man who ever lived ﹏

— apollo x fem!reader x Octavian

warnings: angst if you squint, focuses on octavian's perspective, language, I think.

a/n: hey pumpkin here! I hope you enjoy this because it was actually interesting to write. i loved. i kiss you back from afar! mwuah

✷

It was like one of those scenes where when the main couple is having a mushy kiss and suddenly the camera focuses on the other love interest in the distance, contemplating the scene with sunken eyes and thunder in the sky because in the end, they weren't chosen.

That's exactly how it was for Octavian.

It wasn't just Aphrodite who would laugh at him, but the entire Olympus.

He could feel his feelings slipping through his fingers like acid, and anger tightening his guts with jealousy. How could he fall in love with you? He bitterly snorted as he violently wiped the tear falling down his cheek. He had VIP tickets to see you kissing Apollo, who besides apparently being the love of your life, was HIS ANCESTOR.

He sat on some rock, which was the softest thing he had felt in a while, and despite his chest burning, he kept watching.

"That should be me," he thought. But of course not. He knew he never stood a chance against him or anyone else who tried to steal your heart because he never gave himself the chance to let you know his feelings, to do something, not even to be closer to you. You didn't go beyond a polite greeting or him admiring you from afar, because he was so scared, he was an idiot and so egocentric.

Without taking his eyes off you, Octavian touched the small plush rabbit hanging from his offering belt, laughing with teary eyes. It was for you, but he never gave it to you and never would. In the end, it would end up as an offering to Apollo, what irony.

But that's how things were, he wouldn't complain either, nor would a wave of bravery make him scream in the sky to challenge the god and threaten to fight for your heart. Of course not.

Because he was Octavian, the most cowardly man who ever lived.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Hey llama, I was thinking about the p&p servant au, and I was wondering how would mc react to all of the guys attending a party she's serving at? Would it upset her to see Sans being haughty with other humans?

HOHOHOHO... I would assume at this point she's not yet one of Skull's servants. She belongs to someone else, someone who doesn't appreciate her like they do.

Sans: As much as he wants to immediately seek her out and take up all of her time, to talk to only her... he understands that it's a very busy party, and she's working. He steals her for a little bit of polite conversation, but he doesn't trap her- he doesn't want her to get in trouble. He's very kind to her, as he always is... admiring her from afar, catching her in quiet corners whenever he can, and openly scowling at anyone who comments about her. She enjoys finding ways to sneak a few hushed words with him in passing, and she loves the genuine delight on his face when he sees her in the crowd.

Would she be upset by Sans being haughty? No, not at all. Sans is only like that with people of his station or higher, never with servants. For her, there's honestly something really enjoyable about watching Sans be shitty to the kinds of people who are often the cruellest to her. He gets to say and do the things she wishes she could.

Red: She loves when Red shows up. All the staff do. Even before she knew him personally, she enjoyed when he appeared at events- Red is the life of the party, and often ends up causing some kind of scene that becomes talk of the town. Excessive drinking, ruinously beating someone at cards, pitting two idiots against each other until they get into a fight... all the servants knew that if Red was there, it was going to be a delightfully gossip-filled night in the staff quarters. Especially since Red was absolutely the type to woo any of the particularly eye-catching servants.

She likes him even more after meeting him. Because Red is excellent at distracting the other party members- most importantly, he distracts the host, usually immediately after shooting her a wink. Without her employer breathing down her neck she can get some rest in the middle of an otherwise completely action-packed night.

Skull: If Skull showed up to a party, that's a huge win for the host, and a ridiculous amount of social clout for them. So if Skull appears at the house, and expresses any open interest in Mc (which of course he will)... her employer will basically command her to be Lord Skull's personal entertainer for the evening. "Do whatever is necessary to keep our guest happy. Understand?"

If Red is there to third wheel and keep the conversations going, Mc and Skull would both probably actually have a lot of fun. Red knows his friend very well, and he can quickly and easily 'translate' for him to keep her engaged and relaxed. She likes getting to chat and eat, and Skull is just absolutely delighted that she's sat close enough for him to see her eyes.

If, for some reason, Red isn't there... it might be a bit more awkward. Skull will follow her around like an overly affectionate cat, but he gets overcome with shyness the moment she tries to start anything resembling a conversation. She'd still enjoy it, though- sitting with a silent guy who likes to stare still beats working.

[rottiens]

BITTERSWEET┊KENJAKU (FAKE GETŌ)

Contents. Suggestive, dirty talk, mouth inspection, he places his hand on your neck in a suggestive way (however he does not squeeze), canon au. Descriptions used for the reader: supersetitious, female-bodied reader, she/her pronouns, the reader is described as an average sorcerer, the reader is shoko's student. The reader wears a skirt. divider creds: cafekitsune.

Notes: I've been wanting to find an excuse to write mouth inspection with kenjaku for a long time, heh. So I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.

wc. 2.9k

Today was one of those nights where you feel that something might happen, something not ordinary, something different from the same routine you have been following for the last ten months.

If Shoko were here she would call you superstitious— and you were. Though not so much anymore after you met your black cat, Sapphire, and realized that nothing catastrophic happened when he brushed his soft sheep wool-like fur between your legs or when you took him for a walk and both you and Sapphire stepped on the curb lines... no pianos were falling from the sky and you weren't having a bad day, so maybe bad luck was just in your head after all. As was the feeling that something bad would happen soon. 

Though the thought is hard to let go when the actual scene looks like something out of a horror movie. A lonely girl walking through the streets to her apartment after a day's work. 

It was in the air, you feel it heavy as you inhale, almost as if you were swallowing fog, you feel it in the dry leaves of the trees and their old branches that look like hands and rise above your head, you fear they will hover over you and drag you with them under the ground. 

You shake your head, throwing that other image away from you. 

Maybe you weren't that talented compared to your other comrades but you knew how to defend yourself well enough if someone appeared between the alleys to try to attack you, even though your focus is more on medicine and the study you are conducting together with Shoko: "The importance of healing others through reversed cursed energy." You know how to fight hand-to-hand if necessary. 

As you climb the stairs you think to yourself that you should change your thesis topic to a shorter one before you present it and have it thrown in your face, maybe that way they will agree to fund your research this time, after all, the higher ups are not so interested in how to help others heal through cursed energy but rather in seeing how they can find and train and possibly manipulate, one of their minions. 

With a polite smile and your gloved fingers making an amused motion you greet your neighbor, tall, thin, always wearing a cap that covers part of his face; in a way he reminds you of Satoru if not for the sinister smile he always wears as if it had been carved into his face before he was born. 

You insert the key into the knob and in two twists of your wrist you are inside the comfort of your apartment. Everything is the same as you left it, an unfinished cup of coffee on the shelf next to the door and the closed windows you haven't opened in days makes the dust accumulate faster and you have a theory that's why you've been sneezing so much these days, red, watery eyes and an incredibly annoying nose full of water— it must be that, the dust, and not the hairs Sapphire drops on your clothes, of course. 

Even in the safety of your apartment you feel watched, that unsettling feeling that the walls have eyes following you everywhere. You feel someone's cold eyes boring into the back of your head as you head to the kitchen and then when you open the fridge to grab a bottle of water, just before you swallow, you turn around hurriedly with your hands at chest level along with the bottle pointed away from you simulating a gun. 

No one is there as expected, you find yourself pointing down the silent hallway with a bottle of water dripping on the floor, as if it will actually protect you from something and you feel like a fool. You exhale, and laugh putting the bottle down, finally relaxing your shoulders.

You are at home. Nothing bad could happen to you there. 

"It's fun to see you scared, but I'm already bored of playing." 

Your body recognizes the voice before your ears do. Your feet turn on their heels again raising the bottle causing a large amount of water to wet your shoes, part of your long skirt and finally the floor. Seeing him in front of you the shock causes you to squeeze the bottle from the sides and a larger puddle forms on your feet. You want to run away, but you are afraid that if you do you will fall into the mess you created. 

You're used to seeing him in the school conference room, two pictures pinned with red pins on the board so along with his information and everything you need to know about him to run or fight depending on your grade as a sorceress. 

You had to run away. Knees failing, bile rising in your stomach and burning in your throat, you force yourself to swallow it like a fat pill for your headaches and trot off to feign bravery. 

"Suguru Geto."

He smiles instantly and you remember that smile as familiar..., it's identical to your neighbor's. 

"Did you miss me?" Suguru doesn't move a muscle past his eyes scanning you up and down and you think he can read your thoughts so you look away from him because maybe then you can stop him from seeing inside you and how scared you are. 

Suguru looks the same, talks the same, dresses the same. However there is something strange and different about him and it's not just that unusual mark on his forehead. At the thought you return to him, the devilish grin has warped into a straight line, there was no longer that funny grimace on his features now it has been replaced by an expression you can't read. Taking a second look at the scar, you realize that they are threads keeping the skin on his forehead bound and tight. 

"I've come for something you have and it belongs to me." 

There is raw doubt showing on your face through your drawn together eyebrows and pursed lips that, after a moment, split into realization. Suguru waits for you, as understanding as you remember. 

This time you notice his body leaning slightly over yours, his height towering over yours in an almost friendly way, the way an adult would with a child he's trying to sweetly explain something to... but none of this made sense.

"I should report you..." Your mouth filters your thoughts without giving you time to process it, then something changes on his face, something as minimal as the curvature of his eyebrow coming back into place in a blink and brief wrinkles forming at the edges of his lips. 

In an act of bravery you turn on your heels and pick up the knife that is resting on the countertop, still dirty from the peanut butter you used to prepare your sandwich this morning, all around, the ants that joined to worship it just like a god flee in terror as soon as you take it with you in a vain attempt to defend yourself since his left hand maneuvers and pushes you against the hardness of the countertop disarming you even before you can act.

Your cheek smashes into the concrete and you are sure something has broken in your jaw. Groaning in pain, you struggle to free yourself as your hands have been tied behind your lower back. 

Suguru snorts in the shell of your ear, warm and gentle, just like the autumn breeze.

"Okay. I can see why this body won't stop reminding you. It's annoying." You grind your teeth and struggle for your freedom until you realize you're not going to get it and you're just wasting strength, so you decide to come up with a better plan this time. You look up in front of you to see what you can do to free yourself, you only find the ants witnessing what is happening and in the background, the coffee pot and an old toaster that is losing its color. "...That's why I'm going to slowly let you go and you're going to look for it. Do you understand?"

Apparently Suguru said something you should have been paying attention to but panic, buzzing around like hornet's wings in your ears prevents you from hearing anything but the screaming in your head. 

Carefully he helps you to your feet, sinking his long fingers into your forearms and gently turning you to look at him. Those eyes consume you just like flames, something hot toasts your cheeks and spreads from your nose to your neck. 

Suguru smells like fresh sliced oranges, a bittersweet smell that gradually fades under the stench of ashes from something that was recently burned. 

"Who are you?" you spit disdainfully, looking him up and down.

Your eyes must have been deceiving you, maybe this was nothing more than a visual technique, because you could smell his cursed energy very subtly underneath that facade, but deep down you know this is not your friend. He grabs your cheeks and presses your skin until your lips form a forced pout and even though your hands are free you stand still letting him touch you. 

You should fight, spit at him, try to run. However, you stand still being consumed by guilt and deep down the desire that he is the one who is touching you again. The last you heard from Suguru was that Satoru ``killed him" no one believed him, especially after his body "accidentally" disappeared. Since he (Geto) gave no trouble and didn't show up to corroborate the rumors of the higher ups (until now), no one bothered to look for him or accuse him. But what had become of him, why is he showing up now, and what was he doing here? Oh, right, though. You already know the answer to one of those questions. 

Suguru loosens his grip on your cheeks which instantly burn and ache, he then explores your lips with his thumb and your breathing becomes unsteady. Out of inertia, you open your mouth just a little, as if it's something you must do. The same finger pushes past the rim of your lips and brushes your teeth back and forth, the taste of sweaty, dirty skin overflowing in slow motion onto your palate which reacts with an overstimulation of saliva. 

"Open." It's a simple, even innocent command, "Show me your mouth." The request is unusual, it fills you with chills, when you don't react to his voice, Suguru impatiently presses his thumb against your flat tongue and takes it a little deeper into the cavity of your mouth. 

You force yourself not to cough even though your eyes fill with water showing your discomfort. Still, you acquiesce to the command by loosening your jaw further and showing him the box that is your mouth, teeth, fangs and a tongue stained from the tea you ingested this morning. 

"Beautiful." Suguru comments, admiring you with wide eyes. "You're drooling a little." Is that condescension you hear in his voice? You can't finish processing that thought because you sense his body clinging closer to yours, slamming you painfully against the countertop, the hard concrete sinking into your ribs as you try to pull away from him but to no avail. You can only stand there and take it, as you are watched like a specimen under the magnifying glass. 

His thumb finally comes out of your mouth and you rush to breathe a sigh of relief, but before you can sing victory and celebrate your freedom, the same finger drags your lower lip down, wiping the trickle of drool that escaped out of you. With the same wet finger, he moves from your chin to your neck and then there, he carefully encloses his hand in your throat. Suguru doesn't squeeze, just lets you feel the weight of his fingers, an indirect threat of the power he has over you right now.

"Who are you?" you repeat with more assurance. 

Your vocal cords vibrate beneath his hand, he is trembling with excitement.

"Interesting." Again, after being ignored, his hazel eyes look you up and down warily. "It's not just me. This body is burning with desire for you too, I can barely control it." There's a smile on his face, not full but more of a lopsided smirk that creases the corner of his lips.  

"I wonder if you're wet." You close your eyes so as not to roll them. His fingers leave your neck and move along your rib cage, your navel... and stop above your crotch. Then you open your eyes wide... suguru still has the same expression as before. "It's this little clit eager to be touched?" His voice is a purr, overflowing with desire on your skin and serving as an aphrodisiac that makes your pussy wet with every interaction. "You want me to fuck you here, hm? Like last time?"

You pucker your eyes and force yourself to ihnalate, to remember to breathe and ignore how hard you can feel him on your thigh. It's ridiculously thick, rocking innocently on you and filling you with inappropriate thoughts. 

"You need to leave." 

He clicks his tongue and makes the lightest of thrusts into your crotch which is enough to have you hunching your back, barely hiding your face in his chest. "Do I really need to?" 

You sigh. Almost pained. ".. yeah."

You are more interesting than he thought. 

Suguru moves away taking a short step back and your feet forget how to stand causing your knees to buckle a little. 

"Give me what belongs to me and I'll leave." 

You nod, still with your head in the clouds. Your fingers sink into the countertop using it as a cane to prop your body upright and help you steady yourself again. 

"Wait here." You're sure there's something strange about him, whether or not it's the suguru you met your soul couldn't tell him apart so now what you need to do is get away from him, kick him out of your house and come up with a plan that will allow you to call satoru as soon as possible....

"I'll go with you."

You look over your shoulder to find him following you down the dimly lit hallway, hands inside the sleeves of his robe and footsteps inaudible unlike your own. You turn your eyes to the front, you don't want to fight or argue so you let him follow you in silence until you reach your room, scenes and ways to escape cross in front of your eyes like a lived dream, unfortunately in none of them do you manage to escape or fight and emerge victorious. 

"You redecorated," Suguru comments, admiring your room. Rolling his eyes over the books you have on the bookshelf in the back, touching with his fingertips the desk where you normally sit to write on it in your journal... journal that was right there in the corner, one blue pen down. 

You get on all fours on the floor and look under the bed until you get a small black box, a little bigger than one that would hold an engagement ring. Then you get up and push it into his chest without looking at him, without asking questions, but his fingers cling firmly to your jaw and make you look at him. 

The last time he was here was years ago. It's overwhelming to have him in front of you in the flesh, there are so many things you want to say, to ask... but you'd rather keep quiet. You notice him looking at your lips undisguised, somewhat still sore from the earlier stimulation in the kitchen. 

"Suguru..."

"Come with me."

You know it's the devil's proposition. You know what's going to happen to you if the old men find out he was even here. You slowly lower his hand away from you and he lets you, and instantly your gaze flees again; this time to the way your hands are joined against each other and a knot of longing ties your gut. 

"You should go."

"I'm coming back with a proposition," he replies instantly. 

You ignore him. Summoning up the courage to look him in the eye and ask the obvious. 

"What do you plan to do with that?" 

That. The finger that was ripped from an ancient curse in some period of sorcery. A simple index finger that holds so much power that sometimes you feel it vibrate and emanate in waves under your bed, waking you up in the wee hours of the morning. You shouldn't have it, you should have handed it over some time ago, otherwise you wouldn't be in this situation now. 

Suguru leans over you and kisses your forehead. As lovely as he has always done, and you close your eyes at the contact wishing you could hold on to this moment forever. 

Without a word, he pulls away again. Just like before. He walks to your window, pulls the curtains aside and looks out. Without another word or even turning to look at you one last time, he climbs up to the window frame and from there he jumps out into the void. You turn just in time to see him disappear away from you into the sky on a huge bird with white wings and an unusual beak that at first glance looked like a distant relative of the dinosaurs. 

You are sure he would come back again and this time you would be waiting for him. After all, he promised.

[nonclassyparty]

sweet and right and merciful (c.s)

summary:

(A STARRING ROLE SPIN-OFF) Choi San deals with the mortifying ordeal of falling in love.

playlist (tba) // my main masterlist // moodboard (tba)//click to donate to Palestine

notes; i bet you thought you'd seen the last of both me and sr!san well you're wrong! tell me if you want to be added to the taglist

snippet;

As he didn't have a disgustingly large amount of generational wealth to back him up nor parents who dabbled in political meddling and occasional blackmail like some of his peers, San always knew that he would have to fight tooth and nail for his spot in the world.

This would seem fairly overdramatic if all he was seeking out of life was a stable job and paid bills, of course: he was, after all, the son of a middle school teacher and a man that had several jobs which he never did right because hey, they never had much so San should've been satisfied with anything. 

Unfortunately (or fortunately, depending on how one would look at it), Choi San was too ambitious for his own good. Having been born and raised in the small town of Namhae which was nothing more than an old supermarket some (nobody under the age of fifty) considered a shopping mall and a small beach - the moment he left for college, he swore that he'd never be back there again for nothing more but the holidays. And simply leaving Namhae wasn't enough, no, you see San's goal was money, more money than he would ever need. Bitterness could be considered a man's biggest motivator to get something done and spending his childhood and early adolescence watching his mother work day and night to make sure the bills are paid just for no money to be left spare sure did make San bitter. Call him shallow and materialistic but to San, money most definitely could buy some happiness.

And so, with that thought in mind (placed by no-one else but himself) since the tender age of twelve when he first visited Seoul for a football game and saw what exactly he's been missing out on living in Namhae, San poured everything he had into his studies until he landed a scholarship for Seoul National University in the field of Electrical Engineering. He had been strategic in his choice of career. Electrical engineering required just enough work and brains for it to be considered a lucrative degree and used just enough engineering principles to keep him interested in the job.

And San was excellent at his job. He was quick and efficient, precise and absolutely never wrong. Getting hired to work at one of South Korea's most renowned automobile manufacturing companies not long after he got his degree didn't come as a surprise to no-one. He was competent. The problem with competence and climbing the business ladder though was that it was rewarded with increasingly complex projects almost every month.

And so, our opening scene: A Thursday morning, sometime in January. Amidst the white cubicles on the third floor of Zenith Motor Company, Mr. Kim was doling out new projects to his top engineers with a vengeance.

"Jung, this ones for you," He smacks Jaehyun over the head with the folder before dropping it unceremoniously on his desk, "And try not to get doughnut smudges all over this one."

"Byun, you're continuing the testing from last month." Jaebum nods his head, eyes barely moving from the computer screen in front of him. Mr. Kim continues with an eye roll, "Lim, new model that needs surveillance."

He continues down the room throwing down casefiles as he goes until he stops by San's desk with a smile, "Choi, since you did so well on the Genesis project I'll let you choose." 

"What are my options?" San asks, leaning back in his chair as two files are thrown onto his desk.

Mr. Kim looks down onto his clipboard. "Mr. Jinyoung needs help with the 3D design for-"

Mr. Jinyoung is one of San's bosses.

"-the new model that we're ready to turn in for production. You could send him an e-mail but I wouldn't, he's a bit...difficult to be around these days."

Mr. Jinyoung is also the husband of one Son Danbi, the thirty-four year old woman that San got...very familiar with for a groundbreaking six times at his apartment before he learned that Danbi is a bit too clingy and his job actually might be at stake if she keeps calling the office asking for San instead of her husband. Three times in a row.

She didn't handle San deciding it's best to stop seeing each other very well.

Getting fired for sleeping with his boss' wife and probably getting his nose broken (for the second time over a woman) when his boss' wife inevitably has a meltdown and exposes how San fucked her into his mattress six times once San refuses to meet up with her out of newfound respect for the man she's married to (read: he's scared that he'll get sacked) or literally anything else. The choice was quite obvious.

"I'll take the second option." San quips with ease as he flips over the folder.

"Research and development for a new model! I was hoping you'd pick that one and am not disappointed, you never back down from a challenge." Mr. Kim comments with a grin that San returns because he's been kissing his ass too long to stop now. "You're working with another engineer from the second floor."

San nods and, as Mr. Kim keeps going down to the next cubicle, his eyes sweep over the file and stop at the bottom of the page where one out of two people tasked has already signed their name. In neat handwriting;

Y/L Y/N

He bites back a groan, eyes falling shut and he can hear the Head of the office keep rattling off assignments somewhere in the background.

Nothing registers because suddenly, San remembers honey skin, judging eyes and a sharp tongue and wonders if getting his nose broken a second time right before getting fired by Mr. Jinyoung and losing his entire career would've been the wiser option.

[hareofhrair]

While I'm yelling about House MD--

I see in the notes of my House posts sometimes people being like "ooh, maybe I should watch that" and I always kind of wince and want to grab them like, yeah, please do, but also watch out. There's a reason we call it hate crimes md, and it's not just because of the queerbaiting.

So the thing about House is... It began airing in 2004. The 2000's were, for those of you who missed them, an... interesting time for what was then still called "political correctness." And these times were heralded by a certain Type of Guy, with a certain type of Edgy Humor. In pushing back against the admittedly very white liberal language policing of the PC movement, his goal was to be as offensive as possible, to every demographic possible. For those that had thought it through enough to justify this behavior, the claim was an intent to shake things up and force people to confront their unspoken biases and have hard conversations. The catch phrase was "I'm not racist, I hate everybody equally." These were your Jeff Dunhams, your Dane Cooks...

(For my part, I think it was, at it's heart, white guys attempting to parrot the marginalized groups demanding radical acceptance? A gay person saying "yeah I'm a faggot, what's it to you?" A disabled person saying "yeah I'm crippled, fight me about it. Call me a person with special needs again and I'll break your kneecaps with my cane." They picked up on the "we'd rather be called a slur than this avoidant, self righteous, language policing bullshit" and came away with "so I should call everyone slurs, got it.")

Enter House MD.

The tagline of the show is "Everybody Lies," and it's a very consistent theme throughout. The thesis of the show is that our society, with its shame and repression and bias, is incapable of real honesty. And approaching problems with soft, non confrontational language that talks around the issue instead of dealing with it only makes this worse.

So naturally, House is one of Those Guys.

I doubt there is a single episode in which he does not at some point, say a slur. When Foreman (the only black character and, until Kutner and Park, the only non white major character) is in the same scene with House, you can be absolutely certain he is going to say something racist, while staring at Foreman with a shit eating grin, daring him to make a fuss about it so he can monologue about how Affirmative Action is actually condescending to black people.

It would be one thing if this were strictly a character choice, something that was specifically wrong with House the person. Unfortunately, even when House is not involved the show itself is still, just, blindingly racist, all the time. Any time the patient isn't white, it's a horror show. Racist caricatures as far as the eye can see. It's also intermittently sexist, intersexist, nauseatingly fatphobic, and while it generally does better with disability than most any other show of the time, it is still shockingly ableist at times given the main character is, himself, physically disabled, and implied to be autistic as well.

What makes it worse is that they set House up as someone who wants to deflate people's egos and make them confront their biases ect, and then almost never puts him in a position where he's punching up. There's even a specific episode where he's treating a conservative campaign manager who released an insanely racist anti-migrant political ad, and his racism just doesn't get brought up. The ugly truth about himself he's forced to confront is that he's gay, and the man he's in love with and the people he surrounds himself with are, well. Conservatives.

All of this is not to say you shouldn't watch House or that House is a bad show. It's just very much a show from a very specific and unfortunate moment in the recent history of the ongoing battle for equality. The worst part is, its heart is in the right place, it is just doing a real bad job. It wants to be progressive. It just thinks being polite and respectful is weak and lame.

On that note! The show also features a canonically bisexual woman who actually says the word bisexual-- fucking wild for the time, where the best you generally got was vague allusions to "swinging both ways."-- And it shows her in relationships with both women and men. Including, very notably, Foreman. And if I need to tell you how revolutionary it was for them to show a romantic relationship between a black man and a white woman in the 2010's, take a minute and think about how many relationships like that you've seen in TV or movies since then. Or ever.

It centers on a nuanced and compassionate portrayal of an addict, and tackles the realities of that in an incredibly honest way I don't think I've seen anywhere else. Just the simple, consistent reminders that both House and the other addicts featured on the show are using for a reason, and it's often because they have medical needs that have been neglected by bigoted doctors. There's a whole arc where they try to restrict House's use of painkillers by reducing his prescribed dose to basically a handful of ibuprofen, claiming he only thinks he needs such a high dose because he's addicted and he'll "adjust" to a lower dose in time-- IE, get used to just living with the extreme pain. Unsurprisingly, the increased pain makes him awful to be around, worse at his job, and eventually drives him further into addiction. The way the show deals with this is honestly fantastic, especially given, again, this was the 2000's and 2010's. For a somewhat contemporary comparison, take a look at how addicts are portrayed in Breaking Bad, which came out four years after House in 2008. The general attitude towards addicts was not great.

This show has a lot going for it. The relationships and the stories it tells are honestly incredible. But it is also very flawed, and people should be aware of that going in.

If you want to start watching House, awesome! But maybe look up trigger warnings first.

(Also, completely aside from All That^ there's also the genre typical medical gore and body horror, so, you know, also be prepared for that!)

[dumbkiri]

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In the Heian Period, [Name] Inumaki was born. She became the Inumaki Clan Leader on her 17th birthday. The village people protected by her dubbed her as The Sorcerer Queen because of her unique curse technique; Cursed Speech. Not only that, she inherited another curse technique which came from her mother. This curse technique was called "The Third Eye". It allowed her to move objects with her mind and harness curse energy to become powerful attacks, gravelly injuring all species that were hit by it.

Uraume stumbled upon this small village and is shocked to hear that not a single soul has heard of Ryomen Sukuna. Baffled and disgusted by these people for having the audacity to ignore the strongest man, Uraume brings this news to Sukuna. Unbothered by the news, Sukuna tells Uraume to let the village be.

Uraume disobeys the order and goes back to the village. The people seem to be friendly and polite as they greeted Uraume with no pause. This unsettles Uraume and angers them to the point where they kill some villagers in the name of Sukuna. And if that wasn't enough show for power, Uraume cooks the people they killed and threatens for the audience to enjoy their meal.

Immediately, the villagers call out for their Sorcerer Queen to save them. [Name] perks up at the sound of her terrified villagers and tells her interesting partner that she needs to go. The man in her temple tells her that he can help her with the intruder. Skeptical, she accepted his help nonetheless wanting to see his true form and power.

Upon arriving on the scene, [Name] is appalled by the sight see is seeing. Her poor villagers feasting on cooked human flesh. Sorcerers today can only imagine the anger the Inumaki Clan Leader felt that day. Stories range from [Name] killing Uraume herself to [Name] controlling her villagers to kill Uraume.

But it was further from the truth. [Name] wasn't the one who wanted to fight Uraume. In fact, it was Sukuna Ryomen who wanted to engage in a heavy battle with his chef. For ruining his plan on having the Sorcerer Queen by his side, Sukuna declared to [Name] that he will put Uraume back into their place.

[Name] had other plans in motion. Instead she declared for everyone to remain still and silent. Sukuna and Uraume were victims to this command that felt heavy on their bodies. The King of Curses watched the young female approach the cooked human flesh with tears in her eyes.

Then she ordered Uraume to clean up her villagers of blood and flesh. Get rid of the human flesh and the dead bodies. Consider this mercy or else she would have had Sukuna beat the living shit out of her.

.....

"Mama, that's a bad word."

"Huh?" You looked down at the child in your arms and nervously chuckled. The child was right, you did use a bad word, but it was for good reason. Although you posed as this child's mother, you were actually [Name] Inumaki; The Sorcerer Queen.

You were telling this story to the child because you needed him to understand you a bit more even in story form. "Ah, Toge, ignore that word. It's just that you know? [Name] must have felt so much anger that day."

The little boy hummed and nodded his head, "Well yeah, if you were cooked as a meal, I would be very sad and mad. No one is going to cook you, right?"

You laughed at his question and hugged his body close to your chest. You snuggled in as he giggled.

"No one is going to cook me up, love. Now let's get you into bed."

Toge crawled out of your arms and began walking to his bedroom. You helped him dress into his pajamas then you tucked him in for some sweet dreams. He was a bit antsy until you commanded him with your soothing voice, "Sleep, young one."

He closed his eyes and immediately fell into slumber. You stayed kneeling by his bedside watching the rise and fall of his chest. A flashback of your own child returned to you and you dismissed it with a sad sigh.

It's been a thousand plus years of your cruel fate. One that was bonded to your King of Curses. You have waited and waited. You died only to come back to life a million times. You've been through wars, famine, sickness to bare the thought of your lover coming back.

Yet these years have made you human again. Caring for a little boy that wasn't yours and protecting the Inumaki Clan to the best of your ability. It was your fault that your clan almost went extinct. So now it is up to you to restore you clan's stability and spot as one of the strongest sorcerer families again.

..............................................................

|| important notice ||

I had to get this idea out of my head. It's a literal plague. So I really don't know if this will actually become a series.