#just like with sun vs flame breathing...

[lokh]

rogue of time would also be an interesting typing.....

[macfrog]

If you ever feel up to it - a little short story from the scom universe about reader and Joel deciding to have a second baby or finding out they're pregnant for the second time would warm my cold dead heart <3

i am. so. sorry. for the word count on this i truly do not know what happened. but i had a lot of fun with it, so. hopefully y'all do, too. happy fathers day! x

jellybean ~4k words | series masterlist warnings: pregnancy symptoms (feeling and being sick, horniness + sleepiness. aka me even when not pregnant), 99% just duckie vs her mom

Duckie spills the secret on a Friday.

The morning is lazy, slow. The breathing of the sea across a plain of beach. Your fingers sift through her hair like the breeze through sun-bleached pages. The way she and the sun tint the room peach.

Sarah sprawls out across the spot still warm on her dad’s side of the bed. She’s in a habit of waking up early to sneak through to your room, lift the bottom of the covers, and army crawl between your bodies.

Joel’s in a habit of stirring to the heat of her at his back, her tiny toes at his spine, and turning to scoop her in one arm. They sleep curled into one another, mouths catching flies.

This morning, though, she’s up to something. She brought a secret.

She’s flat-out on her stomach, pens scratching at the paper. There’s the scent of cherry and lemon and green apple tangling in the air. Taut frown on her face, tongue poked with concentration. She looks just like her dad.

She pauses and looks up at you. “What color is this part?” she asks, dabbing at the blank hubcap.

“Silver,” you reply, fixing the cap back onto the grape pen before it stains your sheets.

She huffs. “I don’t have silver, Mama.”

You tap on the page. “Daddy’s wing mirrors are black, but you did ‘em green. The colors don’t matter, do they?”

But it’s seven a.m., and you’re sharing only the red jellybeans for something of a pre-breakfast snack (the four-year-old’s idea), and you’re exhausted despite having slept the full night, and she keeps halting any time Joel’s humming quietens – just in case he spoils his birthday surprise.

She hunkers down with the lemon pen to nail the emblem of his truck, and you figure – color is just the least of it. Truthfully, to your kid – and so, to you, too – nothing has ever mattered more.

You cup her cheek and lift her gaze back to meet yours. “How about I grab you a glitter pen today, just for the wheels?”

She grins. Little milk teeth, gappy and gummy. Peach fuzz cheeks, sweet as the rest of her, a perfect fit in the palm of your hand.

I love you I love you you’re my whole world I love you, you want to say.

Instead: “Only if we tidy your room later. Deal?”

“Deal, Mama,” Sarah giggles, and her little ink-stained hands splay out across the page again.

She scribbles only a few more splotches of color before you both notice it.

The sudden silence.

The water’s stopped running. The shower screen rattles as he pulls it back. Dripdripdrip from the showerhead straight down to the empty basin.

Sarah twists to watch Joel’s disembodied arm blindly grab for a towel folded on the sink. It whips off out of sight, and he calls through from the bathroom.

“Duckie? You still there?”

“Gogogo,” you whisper, helping your daughter cover her dad’s drawing with blank sheets. “Leave the jellybeans, Duck, save yourself!”

She finds the entire thing hysterical. Swinging her masterpiece under one arm, two fistfuls of rainbow pens, springing from the mattress like it suddenly caught flame. She throws herself from the foot of the bed and dashes across the hall to her own room, candy scattering in her wake.

Joel’s head cranes around the doorframe. “Where’d she go?”

You smile, shrugging. Chewing innocently on a jellybean. “That’s funny. She was here a second ago.”

He pads over to the bed, towel slung loose around his hips. Smirks, when your hungry eyes descend his figure – the bearlike shape of him, all muscle and fur, toned where he needs it but soft where you want it.

He cages over you, dark hair dripping with the smell of citrus, skin sticky.

His lips are like velvet against yours. Tongue still singed with coffee. A low growl from his throat when you lean forward to lick into his mouth.

“Smell so goddamn good,” you murmur, dipping your head to bury into the crook of his neck.

His beard is fuzzier when it’s damp, natural masculine musk melded with the fresh soap and rich aftershave he uses. All honey and oatmeal, mixed with a woodsy scent – and fuck, it’s intoxicating. Moreso than usual – stronger and sexier.

You take his hands and lower them to your hips, letting his fingers knot around the baggy material of your – his T-shirt. Tugging on it, exposing the slip of delicate lace on your hips.

“Darlin’,” Joel warns, “we’re late. We still gotta drop Duckie off – If she walks in –”

You groan, huffing back into the mattress. The weight between your legs ripples over the horizon, pulses into weak nothing.

Joel fixes the shirt back down to your thighs just as the thunder of his daughter’s footsteps rumbles back into the room.

Tonight, he breathes, slicking some of the hair from his face.

You grin, taking his hand to pull yourself back up.

Sarah materializes in the doorway, a lingering half-girl. Smiling from behind the frame, twisting the ball of her foot into the floor.

“Hi, Duck,” Joel says, still playing with your fingers.

“Hi.”

“You look guilty.”

Her grin widens. She totters into the room, launches herself onto the bed, and nuzzles into your side. She squirms when Joel digs his fingers into her waist.

The beats of her laughter drum against your ribs, the same way her fists used to when she lived inside you.

“Alright.” You cradle her, her little head tipping back to wake the rest of Austin up with her squeals of glee. “Are we ready for some actual food, now?”

Joel chuckles, reaching for his mug.

Sarah nods from your lap. Her eyes drift down to the print on your tee. “Mama?”

“Mhm?”

“Do they like jellybeans?”

You frown. “Does who like jellybeans?”

Her finger prods lightly into your tummy. “The baby.”

Joel chokes, splattering coffee into his fist. He slams the mug down, pounds his chest clear of liquid.

“There’s no – Jesus, Joel,” you swipe mocha flecks from the sheets, “Told Sarah to be careful with her pens and then you spray coffee all over the…”

Sarah rolls off, cackling. “Silly Daddy,” she hoots, leaping on the bedroom floor.

“Hey,” you usher her over to the door, “Why don’t you go pick out what you wanna wear today? I’ll be right behind you. Quit tryna give your dad a heart attack, okay?”

“The baby, Mama,” she’s repeating, walking like a little convict. She turns over the threshold to her room like it’s a cell, her pink pajama uniform and guilty expression to go with it. Still laughing, swallowing the ticklish bursts when she notices you’re shaking your head.

“There is no baby.” You kneel before her, repeating, “No baby. Just you. How about your T-shirt with the butterflies?”

It seems to distract her enough. Thank Christ. She gasps, inspired, and twirls off to find the tee.

“Fucking hell,” you sigh, pushing back to your feet.

Joel’s flapping the sheets when you slip back into your room, still clearing his throat. Half-dressed: a white T-shirt over his broad chest and a pair of black boxers. Soaked hair clinging to the back of his neck and drying in flicks across his forehead.

Jesus, you want to pull him back over you and let him have his way.

You close the door over and spin, hands on your hips. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Me?” he croaks. “Did you hear what she just said?”

“You’ve known this kid for four years, Joel, you really can’t tell when she’s fucking with you? She’s my kid, keep up.”

“Just seemed an awfully –” he thumps his chest again, “– awfully specific thing to say.”

“She’s in a phase I think,” you reply, catching the pillow he tosses across. “She’s telling stories. Last week, her pre-K teacher congratulated me our supposed wedding. Asked to see pictures of the Mickey Mouse officiant.”

“Jesus,” he grumbles. “She really bought that?”

You mimic the breezy voice: “Sarah was very convincing.”

Joel scoffs. “I don’t know if I can take a lying phase and a copying phase at the same time. Every goddamn word I say, she’s gotta repeat it.”

“She idolizes you,” you straighten the sheets, “I think it’s endearing.”

“Hm. Just wait until it’s you.”

He wanders around the bed, pulls your back against his chest. His arms cross over your tummy, lips pressing into your shoulder where his shirt has slipped.

“How much harder would two be?” he mumbles into the bare skin.

“Two Sarahs?” You scoff.

Joel laughs. “Yeah, you’re right. I forget she runs on chaos and jellybeans.”

“Yup,” you turn in his arms, linking yours behind his neck, “And there ain’t no point in talking about it anyways, because I am not fucking pregnant.”

He rolls his forehead against yours, stealing bristly kisses. “Okay.”

“I’m not, Joel.”

“I believe you, baby.”

Sarah’s bedtime is a liberal eight, eight thirty on weekends. She likes to sit up, lodged between you and Joel on the couch, and help pick the movie you two will watch once she’s in bed.

Once – and only once – Joel tried to fool her by pretending to play her choice, then switching as soon as she went down.

The kid quizzed him on the movie the next morning. He failed. She’s never forgotten.

Tonight, though, Joel’s out. Some game that you know and care too little about sports to learn the name or importance of. He’s with some buddies at the local bar, probably nursing his second beer in as many hours, and counting down the minutes until he can come home to his girls.

Sarah snores soundly, slumped at your side as though butter wouldn’t melt. The flicker from the TV across her face, the gentle mumbling of the voices onscreen. Her hands limp in her lap, fingers idling in a pink snack bowl.

You admire her, stealing a piece of her popcorn. Teeth grinding down when you remember dishing it for her earlier, hearing her curious voice ask whether or not the baby likes popcorn more than jellybeans.

Nope, you sang, tossing a handful in your mouth as you passed her the bowl. Imaginary babies don’t eat popcorn.

She snorted (which unnerved you, because what the fuck is this kid finding so funny?), and followed you to the living room so close that you could feel her toes at your heels.

Some of the kids in her class have siblings. Some older, but mostly younger. It’s the only fucking explanation, the only thing that explains this sudden interest in the real estate of your uterus.

She’s going through a phase, you tell yourself, suckling on popcorn. But then – how many fucking phases do kids go through? Which phases did you go through?

Barney & Friends. That was a fucking phase. Refusing to leave the house without the hoodie your mom bought you from the Museum of Natural History, even in the height of summer. Ketchup and broccoli, your boyfriend at seventeen, frisbeeing your neighbor’s newspaper and aiming for his flowerpots.

Phase, phase, fucking phase.

Does she know something you don’t?

…No. You took a test just last week. Shut up. Stop letting the kid into your fucking head.

Joel’s keys jangle on the other side of the door, shunting into the lock with a sound which stills your brain.

You tilt your head over the back of the couch, your man’s beard tickling your nose as he kisses you. “Evening.”

“Missed you,” he whispers against your lips. He straightens and tugs the jacket from his shoulders. “She not in bed yet?”

“She fell asleep down here,” you reply. “I got too tired to carry her up.”

He caresses your forehead, big pillowy palm. “You feelin’ okay?”

“It’s been a long day,” you grumble.

Joel smiles. He flops down onto the couch beside you, reaching over to stroke Sarah’s head.

You roll, solid as a rock, curling into his side. “She keeps saying it, Joel. She keeps fucking saying it.”

His chest jumps, tectonic plates moving with a laugh. “You’ve met your match, honey. Produced a professional little shit.”

“One of the other moms from her class is pregnant,” you mumble. “That’s gotta be it, right? That’s where she’s getting it from?”

“Maybe,” Joel muses. His fingers link with yours. “Why don’t you take a test anyways? Settle it in your mind?”

It startles you awake, even if only enough to prove the fucking point.

“No, Joel!” you hiss, body jerking. “If I take a test, and it turns out negative – which it will – she wins! My four-year-old fooled me. No,” you pluck spilled popcorn from your lap, pinging it back into the bowl, “I know this kid. I gave birth to this kid. She is not fucking winning.”

“Alright, baby,” he coos, “it’s okay. I won’t let the four-year-old fool you.”

You glower. “Thanks, asshole.”

He chuckles. “She’d make the best big sister, though. She would,” he insists, when you huff back against his chest. “She’d love being the oldest. Get to be bossy, get to call the shots. Get to protect them, no matter what.”

Your voice feels so small, as inquisitive as your daughter’s when you blink up at him. “Were you protective over Tommy?”

“Oh, yeah. I mean, he was annoying as all hell – and I told him so – but anyone else had anythin’ to say about him, and – well, they had me to deal with.”

“Big scary Joel Miller,” you whisper, yawning into his shirt. “I knew him once.”

“Mhm,” he rumbles, “You sure did.”

You look up again, blinking all doe-eyed and dreamy. Already half-asleep.

“He never scared me,” you whisper.

Joel smiles.

“Well, you scared the hell outta him.”

Saturday morning, you wake to an empty bed. No snoring man, no scribbling girl. Just you – a starfish on the mattress. Bathing in waves of late-morning sun, sheets for coral, body as heavy as though you really are at the bottom of the ocean.

Her giggles carry all the way upstairs. Sarah. They surf into the room on a sunbeam, sounds like bubbles which shatter and sprinkle over your aching body.

You smile into Joel’s pillow, breathing in the smell of him, and peel your eyes open.

It’s ten thirty. Definitely – you blink three times and rub at your eyes, just to make sure. Ten thirty, and something’s swirling behind your navel. Something that sharpens, sours, when you push yourself upright.

“Oh, shit,” you rasp, and throw yourself across the room.

You barely make it, collapsing in a heap at the toilet. Your stomach empties in seconds; three heavy, painful gags and your head is in the bowl, choking on last night’s dinner.

“Motherfucker,” you spit, gasping, “Oh, Jesus.”

You’re sick. You’re just sick. Sarah probably caught something from pre-K, passed it on without even knowing. And, hey – you feel better, now that that happened.

You’re just sick. Nothing else.

“Mornin’,” Joel calls, watching as you stagger into the kitchen.

Sarah mimics his drawl. “Mornin’, Mama.”

“Hi, Duckie.” You crumple into the chair beside her, shoulders hunched. The smell of burnt toast and grape juice twists up your nose, and you suck in a slow breath.

Joel sweeps a hand over your forehead. He tips your jaw up to face him. “You alright? Thought we heard running.”

Sarah rips a slice of toast in two. She stares at the fluffy insides, the jam dripping from the tear. The sight of it lifts the hairs on your skin, the gloopy mess splattering onto her plate.

“Just feel kinda…funny,” you slur, turning away.

“Funny? Funny how?”

“Funny how?” your daughter parrots.

You shrug. Every word, every inhale makes you feel even more nauseous. “Probably just ate something.”

“Heard that one before,” Joel drones, and you throw him a flat look.

Sarah licks the jam from her fingers. She holds her tiny hands up to her dad, snorts when he pretends to bite at them.

“Eat your breakfast, Duckie,” he says then – in his Dad voice. And in something softer, kinder: “Can I make you somethin’?”

You swat the idea away, but it’s already churning in your stomach again. “Just gotta – get over whatever it – is.”

The table falls silent. Joel and Sarah stare blankly at one another. When you turn to look at your daughter, she’s staring straight back. Smirking.

“Stop looking at me like that,” you clip, wincing again at the dribbling jam.

“Alright,” Joel utters, “I think you oughta take a test now.”

“That is not what this is,” you groan, petulantly pushing up from your chair.

He takes your hand, steadying you. “No? I was thinking about it, baby, and I don’t think we’ve been safe enough to be so sure.”

You dump your golden toast in the trash and turn, crossing your arms. Your shoulders lift. “We’re not being any less safe than we have been the last four years.”

“Safe,” Sarah says, and Joel holds a finger up.

“No,” he tells her. “No. Not that word. Go back to funny.”

She beams at him. “You’re funny, Daddy.”

He sighs, pacing over. “Look,” he lowers his plate into the sink, “I’ll take Duckie to the park. Let you rest up, give you a quiet house for the morning. But darlin’, if you’re not better by tonight, you’re takin’ a test.”

You grimace. “But she –”

“I know –” he grits his teeth, “– I know you don’t want her to be right. But I want you to be okay, more ‘n I want to prove my child wrong. Like it or not, you’re taking a damn test.”

Your eyes flit across to the kid swinging her legs in her chair, the splotch of jam down her Peppa Pig T-shirt. Your greatest accomplishment and your biggest challenge, wrapped up into a hundred-centimeter, jellybean-fueled monster.

Her cheeks lift, jam-covered and smug.

“Funny,” Sarah says, nodding.

The afternoon strings the sun high in the sky.

You’ve been home alone for the better part of an hour, busying yourself by cleaning to take your mind off the nausea tugging at your esophagus. Making and remaking beds, folding laundry until your fingers cramp.

Sarah’s room has never been tidier. Joel’s workshop has never seen so little dust. And you have never been more determined to prove your four-year-old wrong.

You’re lingering in the bathroom, the window gaping. Sucking in breath after breath of fresh air – which only serves to tickle the acid burning its way up your throat, entice it further.

You’re emptying the cabinets, reorganizing them into some senseless order. Playing Tetris with boxes of Band-Aids, slotting in tubes of toothpaste. You blindly reach behind your hip for the next box – a nearly empty thing which rattles when you lift it, jitters as though nervous.

You glance down.

“Fuck off,” you hiss, throwing it on the shelf beside some tampons.

It stares back at you, as blinding as the sun. The two display window examples, pregnant and not pregnant, like a wink peering out from the dull cabinet.

Your gums taste of bitter bile, rancid. Teeth furry and aching. Your entire body aches – though nothing quite so bad as the space below your ribs, still tender from all your retching.

Slowly, your hands slip down your front to cup your lower tummy. Rounder than before, suppler – bloated, even.

“’s from all the throwing up,” you tell nobody in particular. Maybe yourself. There’s a desperate edge to your voice, almost a plea.

But then – a plea to who? For what? There was nothing you loved more than carrying Sarah for nine months. Duck. Start saying duck. Baby Duck.

You were never on your own. She was right there. Someone to talk to, someone to complain to. Someone to weep to, in the quietest lulls of night.

Her language came to you as easily as your own. All her kicks and punches, her fucking acrobatics while you tried to sleep. It was love, in its most chaotic form.

And you loved her, the very moment you saw those two lines. The very moment you realized she’d been in there the whole time.

You realize now, squatted on your bathroom floor, that it feels the exact same. A warmth, radiating from your very core, if only you’d pay it enough attention to feel it.

Like there’s someone there. Right there.

“If you’re fucking with me,” you warn your stomach, reaching for the single test, “I will lose my shit.”

Love, in its most chaotic form bursts through your bedroom door no less than half an hour later.

“Hi, Mama!” Sarah sings, tearing through the room with her hands behind her back. Her knees bump against the side of your bed, the air about her summer-warm and pollen-sweet.

“Hi, little Duck,” you mumble, voice swollen. You wipe sleep from your eyes, asking, “How was the park?”

She answers with a wide grin on her face, whipping out a small, shabby bunch of flowers. Dandelions and daisies tangled around one another, loose petals scattering over your bedsheets.

“Oh, baby,” you push yourself up, ignoring the sickly weight in your stomach, “Are these for me?”

She nods. She dusts her hands free of grass when you take the bouquet. And then, as you smell them and hum with delight, she turns.

First, over to the dresser. She stares at her reflection, pokes at some of the makeup on the table. Then over to the window – where her breath fogs the glass. You hear the whack of Joel’s tailgate closing, and she tracks him into the house, before examining the windowsill.

You watch nervously as she drifts back over to the bed, a curious hop to her movements. Inspecting, like she knows there’s something waiting to be found. Someone.

“Did you have fun with Daddy?” you ask.

“Yep,” her small voice says, distant and distracted. She disappears into the dim bathroom.

You slump back down on the mattress, dropping the flowers in a clump on your bedside table. “I don’t even know when I fell asleep, baby girl,” you say through a yawn.

Sarah doesn’t reply.

“Duckie?”

“What’s this?”

You lift your head. “What’s wh…Oh, n-no, Duckie, wait –”

She flees past you, one fist raised and wielding the pregnancy test.

“Sarah! Jesus, fuck –”

You’re chasing after her before you have a chance to consider it – nausea be damned. She’s squealing something, roaring with laughter, blitzing out into the hallway. She swivels, ladders down the stairs backwards, leaps straight into the arms of –

“Christ, Sarah –”

Joel stumbles backwards with the force she throws at him. She’s safe in his arms by the time you reach the top of the stairs, waving the stupid stick around his head like it’s a magic wand.

“Daddy!” Sarah cries.

He glances up to you: hunched over the top step, panting, clutching your stomach. He pinches the test from her grasp. “What do we got here, baby duck?”

She kicks her feet. She has no fucking idea what they have, but she knows you didn’t want her near it – and if you know your kid, you know that’s all the catalyst she needed to fucking take it.

You slowly make your way down towards them, smirk growing the nearer you draw.

Joel glances down to the test. The creases by his eyes deepen. He hugs Sarah closer.

“Two...two means...pregnant, right?” he asks.

You sigh, nodding. “Mhm.”

His head lifts.

He breaks, the second he sees your expression. Eyes glassy, tears spilling onto your cheeks. The same smile you wore that June morning: sleep-deprived and shellshocked, a love pumping through your veins so strong that you thought you might burst with it.

Joel reaches for your hand, reels you in against his body.

“Shit,” he laughs, holding the test up.

Your shaking hands take it from him – though you already knew what it says. You were dreaming of it all when Sarah broke into your room.

Dreaming of linked hands and echoed giggles; of bunkbeds and matching surnames, of all four seats in the truck filled and all four chambers of your heart spoken for.

Dreaming of one on each hip, one in each hand. Dreaming of them tag teaming Joel, of the word kids slung with his southern twang. My kids, the kids, our kids. All ours.

Dreaming of two Sarahs, goddamn it. Because nothing ever completed your life as effortlessly as one Sarah, and – hell, she was born to follow in her dad’s footsteps and become the elder Miller sibling.

“Shit,” you agree, turning to sob into Joel’s chest.

“Duckie,” Joel says, voice hoarse and choked by tears, “You’re gonna be a big sister.”

She giggles, tracing the damp lines down your cheeks. As she reaches your jaw, the elation on her face slowly dwindles into something of a frown.

Your lips part to repeat it – a big sister, Duck – when her tiny voice steals the air from your lungs.

“Shit!”

[phoenixeclipse-lmkau]

u might want to cut this ask into 2... sorry?

so more like cantrips vs full blown artifacts, that eases so many worries. i wonder if anyone would change their vote knowing this lol.

you wanted ideas? lets build off the new info from the artifacts! im running off the assumptions that this is pre curse break.

the phoenix stone- reader could be stuck in rain, trying to stay warm by lighting up the stone, but as the weather gets more windy and the sun goes down it starts getting too cold to stay on, reader tries warm breaths and body heat just to get it starting so it can self sustain on its own heat from its flames. bonus if she is actively putting herself in harms way to warm it up so the monkeys can use it as a heat source.

forest stone- reader could grow plants from home, maybe native food from home and just have a bittersweet interaction over getting to see native crops but being unable to consume them safely. maybe reader grows a garden someday? a bouquet for a would-be human lover? or after they 'mysteriously' disappear, flower crowns for the monkeys? a garden would be nice to remind reader of home

for the healing part of the stone, reader could heal the monkey duo! what's not to say the curse slowed down their healing? imagine the bonding from one of the monkey duo seeing reader doing their very best to patch up the other? they could fake injuries to try and get more one on one 'healing' time. or reader could try and fail to heal a fever, and rely on traditional methods to break it.

the shield amulet- it may be impenetrable, but is it immovable? can reader move while its up? because if she cant, its a test of patience that the monkey duo will win. she cant grow food it will be too slow. she could threaten to eat something fatal tho… playing with fire there. what is stopping sun wukong from stealing it in readers sleep? nothing. bet the only reason he hasn't is because his mate convinced him that its the equivalent of a stuffed toy for reader : it makes her feel safe, even if it really doesn't lol.

im going to straight up guess that the glamor mask is either your oc appearance or a demon monkey form. would be funny if it were a genderbend mask tho. just straight up switch the gender if they try and pull gender related shenanigans. "what princess/queen? i only see men between the 3 of us"

just as i was about to hit send, a wild idea approaches!

[maybe i will polish this and put it on ao3 when i have the time, the will and the patience, probably not though]

this is way outside the scope of the artefact's powers but imagine if reader dies inside the shield, and it stays up. they can't shatter it, and the forest stone slowly but surely grows around the shield, hiding readers body from view.

the plants outside can be cut down, but the plants inside can't. the duo have to deal with the fact that, slowly but surely, reader's body is being hidden from them, and one day will be the last day they will ever see her, inside her would-be coffin, the thing that stopped them from saving her.

oh, how they regretted not throwing it away when they had the chance and now it will not even give them the ability to give her a proper burial. away from flower fruit mountain, will she buried under the sands of time forgotten, left to rot?

unacceptable. clones are left behind to guard her final resting place, the plants growing to make a flowerbed for reader to rest on. any who approach are struck down without mercy.

in the meantime, they need to make a visit to Diyu.

inside the shell of a last stand, a metamorphosis takes place.

they come back, heartbroken. she was not from these lands, and thus was not taken by those reigning over the dead. there was no name to strike from the records, no spirit to rescue from diyu.

they come back to see the site that they left so lovingly preserved in ruins.  all the plants that were growing were trampled and dying, the area carved by the fights the clones must have put up. not a single one was left.

and worst of all, in the very center of it all, the final resting spot was disturbed.

someone took her. somebody had the GALL to break in and steal her body from her final resting place, and they weren't even here to protect her!

they weren't able to protect her again, protect the last thing they had of her.

they would make sure that the perpetrator will wish they had lost to the clones.

above them all, in the treetops, a monkey cub holds its breath, watching.

lmao, i was going down the angst train at full speed, but decided describing the grieving process and the false hope i was giving them only to brutally crush it before their very eyes was maybe a sign i was going too far on the angst ride. idk how much angst is acceptable here so i decided to make reader turn into a monkey for the lols.

i wonder if they would be able to see through it using their true sight. hahaha must suck to the one stuck as a monkey cub now huh?

i like to imagine that reader gets found by them but they don't realise its her, just as she doesn't realise it's them[she died while they were still cursed], and they decide to adopt her in memory of the human who cared for 2 cubs she saw needed help. and reader gets to be at ground zero to see these two warlords grieve.

who does she think they are grieving for?

OBVIOUSLY THE MONKEY CUBS SHE HAD WITH HER, ARE YOU STUPID?? THERE WAS NO WAY THEY SURVIVED THE ATTACK, AND THERE WERE TWO FLOWER BOUQUETS FOR THE TWO CUBS THAT MATCHED THEIR COLOR SCHEME AND THEY LOOKED JUST LIKE THE CUBS! WHY ON EARTH WOULD TWO MONKEY DEMON WARLORDS GRIEVE FOR HER???

truly a foolish thought that could only come from such a foolish human to die such a stupid death and make the cubs die with her!

she was back, but they weren't. she wasn't the one to pay the ultimate price for her mistake.

did spirit grieve for her? did she come back only to she that she had died while she was away, reluctantly leaving to find a nearby village only after reader reassured her that she would be safe with the shield amulet, that it would be alright.

and they died because of her. spirit had to come back to their corpses because of her. the monkey demon pairing had to come back to their children's corpses because of her.

i would imagine the experience made her more introverted. more quiet, less willing to make friends. effectively mute. while the shield from the amulet may have fallen, another shield has formed around her heart.

would the monkey duo realise that reader was with them? would they brush it off as wishful thinking, as them projecting their false hopes onto a random monkey that perhaps they weren't too weak, too late? would they draw parallels between their curse and the cub in front of them? would they beg her for a sign?

would reader, drowning in guilt, give it to them?

what would the troop think? they see their kings grieving, ignoring the cub sometimes to go on rampages, and other times begging at its feet as if to ask for salvation. what sort of life is this for that poor cub, to have to endure their grief-induced psychosis?

no, it would be best for the cub to grow in a stable environment, at the very least until the kings recover from their grief.

it takes the duo 5 days to realise what has happened. it's hard to remember about the cub you so callously adopt when you are too busy going off on rampages throughout heaven and earth after all.

when the duo finds out why the cub is missing they just collapse, emotionally. reader is dead. she isn't coming back. and there is nothing they can do about it. the monkey duo don't leave their bed nest and are inconsolable.

reader feels bad for them, it's all her fault after all, that they lost their kids[she still believes this]. so she goes into their room, where they reminisce aloud about reader, and reader, who is unintentionally eavesdropping, finally figures out that A) its HER that they're grieving, and B) THEY'RE HER CUBS! THEY'RE NOT DEAD! SHE DIDNT KILL THEM!

she is so relieved she starts crying, and they hear her call out for them, not by the names everyone knows them as, but the nickname they got from the one person they miss the most:

"plums? peaches?"

denial, if i remember right, is the first stage of grief. they're in denial at first. who wouldn't be? they saw her die, they saw her die. their eyes cant lie their ears can't lie their nose can't lie she was dead dead DEAD-

anger is next i think. how dare that cub call them by those names, only reader can call them by those names! only she can, only her, only her!

but how could the cub know those names if not for her?

bargaining is the third stage.  its quite an odd thing, to bargain with the small, fluttering bit of hope inside of you. to bargain with oneself, to say that you will believe that if its her if she says it again, if she says something again, if she says anything again!-

"is it really you?"

you wouldn't expect to hit depression, would you? reader is back! They're back and they were here the entire time! they've been leaving you alone all this time, grieving for you all this time, and you were here all this time all along. so many tears, so much misery, and when they find out that you were here the entire time, the only thing they can feel is numbness as they reach out to you.

and you

reach back.

being crushed in an embrace between the two, you feel the shaking first, their tears streaming down their cheeks. you hug them as tightly as you can. they hug you back.

and as you look into their eyes you see acceptance. acceptance of the fact that you are back that is is real that you are in their arms, alive, here-!

that they love you too much to let you go.

while they dont care if you arent human or not, it is a bit worrying that you turned into a cub, like they did. did the curse transfer to you? is this something new?

after talking things through, you realise most of the artefacts 'malfunctioned' in a way. the shield didn't fall even in death, the forest stone grew plants nonstop around you. you found them on you and took them with you.

what happened to the glamor mask and phoenix stone?

sun wukong and macaque swear up and down that they searched, and not a single artifact left your bubble.[they were looking for something, anything of yours that they could keep on their person because you were dead-].

you had them all on you. and well, you did come back from the dead, right?

but that doesnt explain the where the glamor mask went! you didnt have it on you! you would have known if-

...

you tear off [not your face not your face NOT YOUR FACE]

the mask

off of your face.

...

a giggle leaves your mouth. well that was a bit silly wasn't it! if you had less self control and clawed off not your face perhaps this would have been solved much earlier!

well at least you were with your monkeys again.

________

ok now i gotta stop for real. i wrote this with no sleep so ahve mercy on spelling mistakes that slip through. have a nice day

Sorry about the confusion 😅. I always thought artifacts were old enchanted items so it didn't cross my mind to explain all of the weaknesses. Was probably going to later but eh who knows when it's me we're talking about.

For the heat, she would totally put herself into danger trying to get it to work. Spirit of course would try to bundle her up in clothes but they don't have all that many. (Spirit is covered in thick fur and less perceptible to the cold, which makes it worse for her because she can't stand the fact that her sister is probably freezing to death)

The monkey duo would be curled up in her arms trying to both be warm and share their heat with her. They'd probably be snuggled up against her chest holding onto her undershirt for closer skin contact as that would help aid in real warmth. They can't even enjoy this because of how cold they are! (It helps them decide that it's best she stay on Flower Fruit Mountain where she would always have the supplies she needs to stay safe and warm)

For the Forest Stone - I could totally see Reader making flowers. Oh, a human man thinks they're pretty. Here, he can have them sure. Cue monkey duo finding a way for this human to go missing. Was he a lover? They wouldn't care. He was a threat because he might become one. They can't let that happen, not at all. She was there human, theirs!

Another thought goes to your idea with the healing stone! Oh my word, these two would be trying for snuggles so badly that they would totally do that. A little scrape on the hand, it's not bleeding and doesn't even bruise, but it 'hurts.' Reader would try to help them immediately, of course. It's just another reason they want to keep her, once they decide they are going to.

For the patience on the sheild Macaque would obviously win in a test of patience. Depending on the situation there could be another thing that happens.

Reader can summon the sheild anywhere, I'm yoinking the idea of it being immovable to an extent. She can only summon one sheild and that sheild can be summoned to protect someone else. In order to move it she has to deactivate it and reactivate it. So that gives a window of opportunity for the Monkey duo.

Say she has the sheild up and then a group of human merchants come to pass by. Well, the Monkey duo likes her, yes, but who's to say they won't threaten the merchants. (They totally would if they are desperate enough) cue Reader making the sheild cover them. Which, of course, leaves her open to 'attacks' one attack being bombarded in snuggles and kisses.

>>><<<

Idea for the fic idea. I loved your idea with the glamour mask. But- I forgot to mention that the mask is still visible while the user is glamoured. (If you make a fic with an altered mask that isn't visible, that is absolutely fine. I would definitely read it for sure.)

So personally, I'd just have the curse kinda transfer to Reader instead. Depending on when the found her depends on if Wukong has his gold vision yet. Since this starts before the war on heaven, he doesn't have it because he hasn't gotten stuck in the furnace yet.

Also, they would totally take Reader in, even before meeting Reader or any of that. Orphan monkey cubs are always welcome in their home (they are quite biased to their own kind, so they are always offered a place in their kingdom. That's not to say some refuse or still fight them, of course)

Yes, the Monkey duo would definitely travel to diyu and return heartbroken. Would her body still be there probably not, if it's because she actually died she might get pulled back to her world and that might save her.

Or if the curse was transfered to her hoho, now her reaction on telling them would depend on so many things. She might feel guilty thinking they are grieving their cub but seeing the absolute devastation they cause would be terrifying.

Once she learns that it's her that they are doing this for she might get more terrified or be happy. She would be happy her monkeys survived, and she could still be terrified at the absolute power they held.

What would they do with her when they learned the truth? She'd heard stories about these two, Spirit tells her about them, and her monkey friends had liked listening to stories. (Wukong probably liked hearing the fear and terror he spread around)

Did they want revenge that she dragged them with her when they fought at first? If so, why were they mad she was gone? Did they want to make her a breeding mate? There were some demons that tried during her journey. They wouldn't want to make her a true wife, right? She was just a human woman, and the Monkey duo hated humans. She had passed through a town devastated by their kingdom before.

So maybe she would be too terrified to let them know, maybe she'd try to find a way to break the curse and return home. She might try to hide from them more.

In this case they might pick her up and as gentle as they can force her to let them take care of her. Via spoon feeding, and making sure she drinks water. And since she's so young they would make her sleep in their nest with them.

There are so many ways this story could go, both happy and joyful or sad and fearful. You said angst well how would the Monkey duo feel about the one they love being too scared of them to let them help break the curse? They would be so happy she's alive yet so scared of how much weaker and smaller she is verses how she already was.

If she tried to escape before they find out and failed. Oh boy there would be no getting away from them once they learn the truth.

But of course if she's not afraid of them, then she'd probably try to communicate who she is. With broken chirps as she doesn't know tne language at first, the curse would probably mess with the communication that she was granted. So cue her trying to learn the language so she can tell her heartbroken monkeys that it's her, she is reader. Since they don't call her Reader and probably gave her a different name. Oh the possibilities.

>>><<<

I would love to hear your thoughts on this! Everyone is welcome to send me an ask about these! I was bouncing in my seat as I read this ask, I loved the fic! To know my fanfiction helped inspire it 🥰 makes me feel so cozy.

Please send me more ideas, if you have them. No pressure. Or you can just send me something to say you liked my idea or not.

[risingscorchingsuns]

Do you think it had to be rengoku who died? Or could it have been a different character or hashira and still give the same effect?

AA THIS IS SUCH A GOOD QUESTION!! Okay im likely gonna go back and edit this later once i think of Better Words, but prepare for a Long Ass Leon Analysis Post

I think that while a similar effect could have happened had it been another Hashira, the fact that it was Rengoku affected not just Tanjiro, but the rest of the Corps in a massive ripple effect. I’m assuming that by asking this you’ve read my “why Rengoku’s death impacts the outcome of the series” analysis post, but regardless, im gonna start rambling now lol

Let’s turn it into a cause-and-effect formula. If [Hashira] dies after the Mugen Train Incident, it affects Tanjiro with [x] and the rest of the Corps with [y]. When Rengoku died, it devastated Tanjiro because of both his personal connection to Rengoku (Flame Breathing vs Sun Breathing, as well as Rengoku’s infectious brotherly attitude) and his respect for the Hashira as a whole. X is Tanjiro’s devastation and his exposure to the Actual Strongest Demons. Y, on the other hand, is much more powerful, because of Rengoku specifically. He was like an older brother to Mitsuri. He was an icon of strength and persistence for Tengen. He was a beacon of encouragement for everyone he encountered, and Rengoku was uniquely inspiring in that way. Rengoku, specifically. The latest link in the Flame Hashira chain, the Rengoku family legacy, he was really more legend than man. He was an unfalteringly blazing beacon of constant courage and flaming strength, and his loss hit especially hard, because of how unstoppable he always strove to be. Even the surlier Hashira like Sanemi and Obanai respected him, because he’s just that bright. He’s open, and approachable, and kind. He may be a legend, but he’s a human, living legend. He was friends with everyone, and impacted everyone’s lives just by being in them. The unceremonious and sudden nature of his death is what causes X to hit so hard for Tanjiro, and what causes Y to extend far beyond him.

If, for example, Sanemi was the one who dies at Mugen Train, things would’ve turned out much differently. Sanemi never accepted Nezuko, and probably would’ve died scorning her. This would cause X to be much less impactful for Tanjiro. He would still be devastated, because he’s Tanjiro, and because he holds a deep respect for all the Hashira, but Sanemi’s refusal to acknowledge Nezuko would significantly dampen the impact of his death. X would still hit hard, because Tanjiro is exposed to an immensely powerful warrior being unceremoniously taken out by a demon like Akaza, but Sanemi’s generally unapproachable nature as well as the fact that he stabbed Nezuko would significantly dampen the impact on Tanjiro. Additionally, Tanjiro doesn’t know Genya yet, so he wouldn’t have any personal motivation for sympathy. In the case of Rengoku, when he mentions Senjuro, that hits hard for Tanjiro, because they’re both eldest brothers. As for the rest of the Corps, they’d be devastated for the same reasons as Tanjiro- a Hashira has fallen, and that’s a rare and devastating casualty of war. But Sanemi doesn’t have the same social impact that Rengoku does, so ultimately I think neither X or Y would hit as hard.

Honestly im trying to stop myself from plugging every Hashira into this equation just for the sake of analysis, so I might come back to this later when I’ve gotten a bit more sleep lmao

Now let’s take a Hashira that Tanjiro has a personal connection to, like Shinobu or Giyuu. If Shinobu had come with Tanjiro to personally investigate Mugen Train, he would almost certainly blame himself for her death, and X would be a different flavor of powerful, because of her conversation with him in about Kanae’s dream. The death of any Hashira would cause Y to have some ripple effect, purely because it’s a Hashira, but ultimately, the only Hashira I believe could even start to rival Kyojuro’s influence is Gyomei, purely because he’s been a Hashira for so long. But no other Slayer had the same warmth and personable character that Kyojuro had, and that’s why his death in particular hits so hard. If Giyuu had died, Tanjiro would likely have been just as upset as he was with Rengoku- he’s witnessed Giyuu’s strength on multiple occasions, and Giyuu has staked his life on Nezuko. That’s something that Tanjiro won’t easily forget, and if Giyuu had died, it would easily devastate him to push himself harder, giving X the same emotional weight as Kyojuro’s death. However, because it’s Giyuu, Y would be MUCH less impactful, because a lot of the Hashira actively dislike him. ( @princeblue actually has an excellent analysis post on why he pisses the other Hashira off, I would recommend reading it, they make some excellent points!!)

Anyway, to restate my thesis, Rengoku’s death was as impactful as it was not just because he was a Hashira, but because he was Rengoku. He’s an infallible beacon of hope and warmth, and his unceremonious death sent a ripple effect through the entire Corps. He touches the lives of everyone he meets, intentionally or not- it’s just who he is. Much like Tanjiro, his passion is infectious, and his spark and drive spread to everyone who loved him after his death. It would still devastate Tanjiro to no end to watch a Hashira die in front of him, but it was Rengoku’s personal connection to not just Tanjiro, but the entire Corps that ultimately made him as impactful of a character as he was.

That last paragraph was a little shaky, I have a nasty habit of only doing analysis writing when it’s 4:30am and I should be sleeping, please ask me to clarify anything if I fucked up! I promise it makes so much sense in my head lmao

Thank you so much for this ask I’m literally happy stimming sitting here poking away at analysis posts nothing makes me happier than media-dissecting my blorbos

[bones4thecats]

➸ I Loved You; Demon Slayer × Late! S/O

MANGA SPOILERS Characters: Shinobu Kocho and Kyojuro Rengoku (separate) A/N: My ass is currently crying on the inside right now. These two dying broke the shit out of me when I read/watched it. So, to compensate for my wish for angst, I added some cute fluff in the endings! Hope y'all do like this! ➥ Summary: Some say love lasts for as long as two people live. But only the people who truly felt love understand... it lasts beyond life.

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Shinobu Kocho ══════════════════════════╝

🦋 The ragged breaths of a woman echoed into the ears of the high-ranked demon behind her. He smiled and brushed his fan to cover his mouth as he chuckled, taunting the slayer without speaking any words

🦋 She glared back at him and gritted her teeth in anger. She had waited many years for the opportunity to kill him. In the name of her sister, in the name of her lover, and in the name of everyone else he had killed and devoured

🦋 Standing up, she gripped her sword tightly. All of her energy was now being put into the next moves of hers, just enough to break him down and allow his real self to come out, and just enough to weaken him for her master plan to emerge from the mist

🦋 It only lasted a few more minutes until she was being held tightly to the demon's chest. He had fake tears fall from his rainbow-colored eyes as she began to scold him for everything he had done to the deceased and living

🦋 As the bones in her back began to break, she saw a flash of light from behind her. The pain began to fade as she realized where she was. It wasn't the same room where she fought through everything, it was a beautiful land, covered in flowers and animals of all kind playing with one another

🦋 A butterfly flapped its wings and landed on her finger gently. Its wings slightly moved as it situated itself and practically laid on her. It was odd for such an action from a wild animal, but she could push that behind her. It was quite cute

"It's nice to see your face once more, Butterfly."

🦋 Her eyes widened as she spun around and saw a figure there. An almost-matching Demon Slayer uniform on them, the only thing keeping them apart being the haori. It had a moth-wing pattern with fluff at the bottom, contrasting with her average butterfly-wing one. But, she loved it

"Hello again, Shinobu."

╔══════════════════════════════════════════╗

╚═════ Kyojuro Rengoku ═════════════════════════╝

❤️‍🔥 The sun rose as the blade and skin clashed against once another. It had been a while since it had begun. This fight of demon versus human. Of Uppermoon vs Hashira. And it was slowly coming to an end as the light grew around everyone

❤️‍🔥 The Hashira kept his smile as the Uppermoon glared and watched in wonder as he stood strong despite the injuries dealt to him during their battle. It was ironic, really. He had never seen such vigor, such... passion to protect others like he was now

❤️‍🔥 The demon smirked as the Hashira replied to his question with a powerful-boost of energy. This was going to be the end of this strong-willed creature. Whether he or the younglings wanted it to be or not

❤️‍🔥 Flames surrounded the two as they began to end. The nichirin blade of the Hashira's dug into the demon's body as he yelled and raised his right fist to send another brutal hit into the slayer going against him

❤️‍🔥 As the burning-material faded into nothing, so did the questions of the slayers waiting a ways away. A cough emerged from the slayer as blood began to spill from his mouth. The demon had done it. His punch... had punctured the Hashira's stomach. A clean-cut through

❤️‍🔥 Despite the efforts of the younger-slayers around him, he couldn't stop his destiny from being fulfilled. He was injured beyond any kind of refuge. He was destined to die then and there. No Kakushi could help him

❤️‍🔥 While the final words of his exited his mouth and moved his underlings to tears, two figures appeared a ways away. One stood there as another walked up to him. They kneeled and looked into his one-good eye. They smiled as his eye widened and he realized who this was

"Y/N... mother. Did I do well? The responsibility I... I took upon myself to fulfill. Was I successful?"

"I'm so proud of you, my son."

"Rest now, my love."

[linkspooky]

Rengoku vs. Akaza

Hello, I’m back talking about Demon Slayer and what is probably considered to be the most iconic fight in the manga. So iconic, that they made the entire fight into a high budget movie that destroyed box office records. What makes the fight so iconic isn’t just that Rengoku is so likable a character, that his heroic sacrifice is one of the most heartbreaking moments in the manga. 

The fight is good because it’s got a strong thematic backbone, it is like many things in the demon slayer manga about death, and the way both Rengoku and Akaza react to the deaths they’ve experienced in their lifes. The parallels between the two become even stronger when we learn about Akaza’s backstory during his second fight. 

Weak vs. Strong

Rengoku and Akaza don’t only represent opposite elements (Akaza is ice/water, and Rengoku is fire), they also represent opopsite social ideals. Akaza is a social darwinist who believes in the right of the strong. Whereas, Akaza’s entire character is based around the idea of noblesse oblige. Strong people are obligated to protect weak people because they are more capable. 

Akaza pursues strength at the cost of everything else, even begging Rengoku to accept a demon’s blood and become immortal because that will give him even more time to grow stronger. His opening act is to even attack Tanjiro while he’s helpless on the ground and injured, because he wanted to eliminate another weak person so he could talk to Rengoku without being interrupted. While he is a demon Akaza’s worldview that the only option the weak have is to die off and be taken care of by nature. 

Akaza however, only defines strength as martial combat ability. Rengoku is able to counteract his argument right away by pointing out that people can be strong in more ways than one, which cuts to a panel of the innocent people on the train who are not demon slayers but have the strength to keep going and crawl their way out of the wreckage of a disaster. In Rengoku’s world it’s difficult just to live because life itself is fleeting, therefore surviving is it’s own strength. 

Rengoku’s opinions on weakness go even further in his own spinoff chapters, where you learn that his philosophy on strength vs. weakness doesn’t just come from his mother telling him he’s obligated to help others because he’s born strong, but his father also constantly trying to discourage him from becoming a Hashira by insisting he’s weak. His father’s own mental breakdown into lounging around all day drinking, came from the fact that he felt that flame breathing was inferior to sun breathing therefore it wasn’t worth trying if he could never measure up. 

In response to his father’s words, Rengoku instead of insisting that the only people who are strong have value, searches for other values people have and other strength besides physical strength. His brother Senjuro being the example, despite Senjuro being incredibly eager to train he’s not talented enough to become Rengoku’s Tsuguko. In spite of that fact, Senjuro keeps trying without getting discouraged which Rengoku sees as a strength. 

In Rengoku’s mind a weak person striving to be strong, even if they don’t accomplish anything, or make progress is a strength, because that ability to put effort in and strive is what matters not the results. Rengoku’s chapter further on goes to praise the rank and file members of thedemon corps who never become Hashira simply because they don’t have the talent to advance and yet risk their lives all the same. In his mind value lies in effort and striving for something not talent or results. 

Rengoku’s ideas of strength and weakness comes from his admiration of the people around him and humanity in general he praises their strengths. While we learn in Akaza’s backstory, his social darwinism comes from the actions of people around him poisoning his viewpoints, to the part where he can only see their faults. 

The irony of Akaza’s backstory is how different his behavior as Kyojuro is from that of him as a human. Hakuji’s loved ones are two weak people entirely dependent on other people for their care, the kind of person that Akaza claims to despise. 

Hakuji’s father dies because of the same social darwinist philosophies that Akaza espouses. His father needed medicine but couldn’t afford it because he was poor. Rather than just give him the medicine, society lets him die off like it was his fault in the first place for being poor, therefore he doesn’t deserve medicine that could heal him. Society punishes Akaza for simply trying to steal money for medicine when he was no other options, rather than just making the medicine cheaper, because the rich are right by the virtue they have more strength in their society. 

His second loved one is obviously Koyuki, the girl he nursed after being taken in by his teacher. Koyuki is also someone weak that everyone has written off as dead simply because she needs care from other people and can’t get better on her own. The simple task of taking care of her is apparently so dificult that her mother commits suicide and her father leaves it to somebody else entirely. 

However, Koyuki’s recovery proves that this social darwinist philosophy is wrong, because after three years of nursing her Koyuki is fully recovered and finally able to take care of herself simply because someone put the effort in of giving her help when she needed it rather than letting her die. Because, society doesn’t actually function on social darwinist ideals, it’s cooperative. If everyone was out for themselves, people wouldn’t form cities and towns, they wouldn’t have jobs, they wouldn’t even bother taking care of the sick. 

Hakuji believes similiar to Rengoku that it’s worth the effort to nurse sick people, and take care of people that can’t take care of themselves, he never once felt like either of them were a burden. They’re even both inspired to help others because of the dying request of a parent. Rengoku’s mother was too sick to continue living and told Rengoku before he died to live his life taking care of others. Hakuji’s father kills himself so Akaza will no longer have to steal to support him, and his last words are a request for Akaza to start his life over again. 

They’re also very self-sacrificing in nature, Hakuji said repeatedly he didn’t care at all if he was beaten or marked as a crimminal for his father he would have endured all of it just to help him get better. Rengoku himself even endures his drunken father’s constant abuse with patience because he understands that his father became that way out of grief for their mother, and his dying words to his father are just requesting for his father to take care of himself. 

They are both strong people who wish to take care of the weak people in their lives, so what exactly was the branching off point where Hakuji turned into Akaza. 

Life vs Death

Demon slayer is a manga about death, and more particularly the difficulty of living in a world where no matter what you do all life ends in death and there’s no controlling when either you or someone you love dies. It’s why the first event in the manga is the senseless slaughter of Tanjiro’s entire family, which Tanjiro was not even around to witness simply because he slept in town for the night because it’d be dangerous to climb up the mountain in the dark. 

Akaza turns into Hakuji after the senseless death of his loved ones, something that just like the death of Tanjiro’s family happened when he was not with them. Hakuji only leaves for a day to visit his father’s grave to tell him of his marriage, and he’s back by nightfall on the same day only to discover they’re dead by a poisoned well. 

Of course if Akaza had been there, it’s likely there was little he could have done but drink the poisoned water and died alongside them because nobody knew that the well was poisoned. There are two differences in this scenario of course, number one Tanjiro still had one person left in his life to take care of while Akaza was stranded alone. Number two, at that point Akaza gave up on living entirely and only wished to die alongside his family. 

After this point Hakuji becomes Akaza, and his views towards life resemble nihilism. In his mind death makes life meaningless, because no matter how much you strive to take care or protect someone it’s always going to end in their death. Of course if he’d been allowed to make a few more happy memories with Koyuki instead of suffering such an early and tragic loss things might have been different, but the sudden loss of her robbed him of all strength to continue believing in any value in life. 

This is in contrast to Rengoku who insists that life’s epehemeral nature is what makes it beautiful. What makes it special and unique is that it doesn’t last forever, therefore people need to value the loved ones and the times of happiness they have because they’re not going to have them forever. Rengoku gives worth to what is fleeting, but Akaza suffered too much loss and seeks immortality even if it’s a pointless one. 

Hakuji and Rengoku have the same values of protecting the weak, but Rengoku is able to live up to his goal of protecting weak people, even finally giving his life having succesfully protected not only everyone on the train but Tanjiro, Zenitsu and Inosuke. Rengoku succeeded at his duty, and Hakuji failed at his. 

Which causes Hakuji out of guilt for his failures to flip his entire identity around. Even in the symbolism of his name. Hakuji has the same character as “Koma” in Komainu, and he lives his life like a Komainu protecting a shrine.

This philosophy of life vs. death even incorporates budhist values. Akaza is the third pillar because he represents the three universal truths held be budhism. Dukha, suffering (the idea that all suffering is inherent to life), Anicca (impermanence, the idea that everything is change) and Anatta (Non-self soulless / lack of self) the third being the way that he’s beaten by Tanjiro. 

Akaza’s driven to become who he is because of his inability to cope with the first two values, the suffering inherent to life and it’s impermanence. His reaction to Koyuki’s death causes him to veer into nihilism, the belief that his whole life was worthless including his love of Koyuki, his father, and his master (there are three people in his life he decided to protect as well, and when he loses all three he’s no longer able to uphold the values in his life). 

In fact, impermanence is a running theme to his character. His relationship with Koyuki is symbolically tied to fireworks, she fell in love with him out of his belief that she’d be able to see the fireworks next year so she didn’t have to apologize for missing them this year. When the two of them officially get engaged there are fireworks exploding in the background. Akaza’s moves are all named after fireworks. Fireworks are, brief and beautiful explosions in the sky that fade quickly. 

When he becomes a demon he also violates all three of those values, he becomes immortal instead of impermanent like a human being, he causes suffering to others, and he’s unable to reach the state of “no-self” that Tanjiro climbed to in order to defeat him. However, Akaza prolonging his life only keeps him trapped in the cycle of suffering. This is also inherent to budhism, that as long as people are alive, their human desires will cause them suffering because they’re inherently selfish. In the cycle of reincarnation, people are born again and again until they purify themselves and escape the cycle completely. 

When Akaza embraces both his painful memories of the past, he’s finally able to remember the things that were good about his life, the love that he had no matter how brief. It’s through embracing his suffering (finally remembering the people he lost instead of forcing himself to forget), and the impermanence of his life, that Akaza is finally able to die and escape the cycle of suffering. 

Rengoku and Akaza are finally the same in that their last and greatest act is to die. Rengoku dies protecting three innocent people and is consoled by his mother for his hard work in life, and Akaza’s redemptive moment is to finally let himself die rather than keep fighting pointlessly and he is similiarly embraced and reunited by Koyuki who makes the decision to go to hell with him. Even though death is tragic for both of them they’re also offered that final comort. 

[pumpkinmagekupo]

Master vs Apprentice

Mizuki rose from the chair and slowly walked towards the barrier around the sparring area. The robes were heavy and the gold of the armour and chest pieces glimmered in the sun. They made her feel like a court mage, someone of importance. Camélia stood proudly at the other side of the area clad in the forum’s robes. 

“The duel between Mizuki Motte and Professor Camélia will commence,” announced Vauquelin.

 Mizuki took a deep breath, readying  her staff.  She had often thought about how to best sages. Nouliths utilised offensive and defensive spells in tandem. Their shields were hard to break, but in her studying of the sage arts, she thought of the easiest ways to best them in a fight- just hypothetically. 

amélia extended her hand, controlling the aether around the nouliths spurring them into life and floated around her, but Mizuki wasted no time in using the aether manipulation spell, and in a flurry of blue aether hurtled towards Camélia before she could react. She appeared just to the left of her, swinging her staff into each of the floating nouliths, using a skill she had picked up from Estinien’s rather brief lance training. Camélia aimed the nouliths at Mizuki as she vanished back to where she had started.  

“What terrible form! I certainly didn’t teach you that” she lifted her hand to direct the nouliths back at Mizuki but the sound of crackling lightning filled the air As a purple glow engulfed the nouliths one by one and they fell to the floor with a thud.

Camélia frantically tried to spur life into the nouliths but they refused to move. “What underhanded trick is this?”

“Simply a matter of overpowering your aether,” Mizuki explained briefly, holding her staff before her as a magick sigil appeared beneath her feet. “You might remember this spell Master, you saw it all those years ago.” Mizuki held her staff up, her eyes shone brightly and the skies darkened.

An explosion echoed around them, the ground trembling  from the roaring flames. When the fire and smoke cleared, Camélia had managed to spur two of the nouliths to life and had conjured a barrier strong enough to withstand the blast, but as she  lifted her arm to point the nouliths in Mizuki’s direction they exploded, falling to the ground in pieces. 

“The duel goes to Mistress Mizuki,” announced Vauquelin, and the barrier protecting the bystanders fell, signalling that the duel was officially over.

Snippet: Tales of a Hero: Chapter 10

[poussacha]

My 2023 Fanfiction Wrapped

Hi everyone! It's ya boi spreadsheets back with another fanfiction wrapped! This time I actually took the time to make it look really pretty (see: I half assed this in Google Slides for my discord server's swampmas wrapped event lmao).

Without further ado, here's what I read this year.

2023 Fanfiction Mini Guide

These are fics I rated 7/7 stars on my guide that I would FULLY recommend everyone read if you're into these fandoms or ships.

Stranger Things

Gen (Steve & Robin)

As He Sinks Just Like A Stone by saintmares | Rated T | 5k

The words "Steve Harrington is sooo strong" had always made Robin Buckley roll her eyes. After all, what did it matter if some stupid jock just so happened to use his muscles a bit more than other people? But when her life comes crashing down inside a secret underground Russian elevator, Robin finds a new appreciation for the strengths of Steve Harrington... at least until she has a startling realization about her best friend and his fleeting mortality as the Party patches up his demo-bat bites.

Steddie (Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson)

Black Out Days (Fairground Nights) by OonionChiver | Rated E | 140k (background Ronance)

‘I think,’ Steve says slowly, reaches for Eddie’s abandoned, untouched beers. ‘You don’t know me very well.’

‘I don’t know you at all, man. I don’t really want to.’

Steve’s throat works. It’s subtle, but Eddie sees it. He hides it with a swig of beer, but when he sets it down, his smile isn’t quite so bright. Twice as sharp, though.

‘The self-centred asshole who can only be decent to a single human being, I get it. It works for you.’ Then he takes a thick, heavy breath. The alcohol is hitting him, Eddie can tell. ‘And I am being civil. I’m here, aren’t I? You have any idea how hard it is for me to be here?’

‘In a bar?’

Steve doesn’t answer.

Star vs. the Forces of Evil

Stomco (Star/Tom/Marco)

Monster Carvers by Raikim4Never | Not Rated | 70k (unfinished, but I think about it every day of my fucking life)

Fourteen years after Princess Star Butterfly is kidnapped from her cradle, a terrorist attack on The Underworld results in Prince Tom Lucitor being sent to stay on Earth. Meanwhile, the Monster Carvers plot to bring an end to all non-Mewmans, and Ludo learns of rumors that Tom was given the Butterfly wand for safekeeping…

High School Musical

Chyan (Chad/Ryan)

I Still Don't Dance by Rozavie | Rated G | 20k

Chad Danforth never thought that he would find himself here—washed up, past thirty, teaching at a high school, and divorced. Basically, everything in his life has gone up in flames. No longer being able to play his favorite sport, and coming off of an exhausting (although amicable) separation, Chad decides that it's time to focus on what he can control. Primarily, raising his daughter. As long as she's happy and healthy, Chad thinks that he can manage to be as well.

But when an old friend from high school stumbles back into his life, Chad's world gets just a little more interesting.

Boy Meets World

Cory/Shawn/Topanga

For a good time, call by feyrelay | Rated M | 3k

This headcanon lives rent-free in my head, constantly, and I was so disappointed in how GMW handled a lot of the adult relationships and stickier topics, that I just had to write this. It just might rot your teeth.

Avatar: The Last Airbender

Zukka (Sokka/Zuko)

like the sun inside you by ofherlionheart | Rated M | 200k (Unfinished)

Sokka's expression is caught somewhere between determined and pissed off when he says, “I know you think this is your responsibility. But you’re not going to be alone in this. This is why we’re building you a council.”

“I know,” Zuko says.

“And the only way you’re going to die having done nothing but sit in meetings is if you let yourself do that. You’re not a bad leader if you take a break now and then.”

Zuko scowls. “What, so people can then say at least my father wasn’t lazy?”

Sokka tilts his head. “Don’t you think there’s a difference between laziness and, I don’t know, choosing life and happiness in spite of a terrible dad who tried to take both from you?”

----------

Zuko is sixteen years old when he’s handed a crown, a throne, and a hundred-year ancestral legacy of colonial imperialism. He’s not scared of the work; he’s scared of being consumed by the responsibilities and burdens he’s claimed. What Zuko doesn’t quite realize, yet, is that he’s not alone in this.

(do you take this jerk to be) your one and only by jatersade | Rated T | 55k

Under the leadership of Fire Lord Iroh, the Fire Nation has made every attempt to restore peace and make amends for the harm they inflicted during the Seventy-Year War. Their newest proposal is a literal proposal: a marriage to unite the Fire Nation and the Water Tribes.

The Fire Nation offers Prince Zuko’s hand.

The Water Tribes offer Princess Yue’s.

Sokka is apparently the only person in the world who has a problem with any of this.

Will We Last the Night by CSHfic | Rated T | 144k

Chief Arnook never assigns Sokka to protect Princess Yue, so he goes to fight the Fire Nation with the other men. When the moon dies, and the ocean spirit takes its revenge, Sokka is caught standing on the deck of a Fire Nation ship. Sokka should have drowned… and he would have drowned, if not for a certain Fire Nation raft fleeing the North Pole.

[An enemies-to-lovers season 2 rewrite, where Sokka is separated from the gaang during the Siege of the North, and travels the Earth Kingdom with Zuko instead].

War Crimes by Lovely_Elbow_Leech | Rated M | 90k (MAJOR CONTENT WARNING FOR SA, CHILD SA, TORTURE, MURDER, AND VIOLENCE - PLEASE READ THE TAGS AND CONTENT WARNINGS)

Book one ends with two major diffrences: 1. Sokka went on the mission with Hahn (it did not go well) 2. Zhao survives the North Pole and that proves unfortunate for everybody (except Zhao, obviously) 

Imprisoned on Zhao’s war ship, Sokka and Zuko have to work together to survive. They are not very enthusiastic about this prospect. 

And they argue. 

A lot. 

War games by Lovely_Elbow_Leech | Rated M | 428k (MAJOR CONTENT WARNING, TORTURE, VIOLENCE, MURDER - Unfinished)

After the events of War Crimes, Sokka and Zuko have escaped Zhao’s warship and are fleeing across the Earth Kingdom. As well as unfamiliar terrain, they have to navigate their shared trauma, work out where they fit into the war, and their place in each others lives.

Sokka is aware that being friends with the enemy is going to bring complications, but he probably should have guessed that being friends with Zuko in particular, was going to be a bit like dunking your head repeatedly into a bucket of angry Fire Ferrets.

Katara is also grappling with the confusion of befriending an enemy, something that doesn’t prove as difficult as she had expected with the bond of shared, furious grief bridging old wounds. (Learning a new way to look at her bending doesn't hurt either)

Azula, struggling with the Fire Lord’s mistrust, encounters a few nasty surprises and has to make some difficult decisions. Luckily, she is a great deal better at making sensible choices than her brother.

Her father may have made a slight tactical error.

In the Soft Light by CHSfic | Rated T | 84k

As the newly appointed cultural liaison to Northern Water Tribe, Zuko is the first Fire Nation Citizen to step foot inside the city's walls in nearly a century. He's determined to prove himself—to the Fire Lord and to his father—even if the Water Tribe's spirit-touched prince seems to want nothing to do with him.

or

Moon Spirit Sokka AU

These Things Written by Erisenyo | Rated E (Underage) | 222k

The letter was never supposed to be read, least of all by Sokka. But then, things happen every day that aren’t supposed to, in war.

Or,

On a particularly hopeless night, Zuko sends out a messenger hawk to nowhere. He didn’t realize that his messenger hawk is deeply committed to completing the job. And that Sokka happens to be traveling straight through nowhere, at the time.

These Things Known by Erisenyo | Rated E (Underage) | 400k (Third in series! There is a second one between These Things Written and These Things Known)

[Aang cuts him a quick, guilty look. “I didn’t mean to imply that you…”

Sokka raises his eyebrows. “That I…Focus on the present to the point of blindly committing to enormously questionable courses of action with significant long-term ramifications because they’re gratifying in the immediate moment, which is particularly concerning as our chief Maker of Plans?”

“Uh—That’s basically…Yeah.”]

Surrounded by danger and doubts, separated by war and one irrevocable decision—after the world of just-Sokka-and-Zuko crashes into the world of everything else, what comes next?

Or,

What happens when trusting someone suddenly means something far different out in the world than it did in the space of a Ba Sing Se teashop?

I'll Share the Moon, if You'll Share the Sun by anarchycox | Rated M | 400k

An alternate world where Iroh leads a coup against Ozai on the eclipse and wins the throne for Zuko. The southern water tribe hadn't sent men to fight in thirty years, instead protecting their home, laying traps, using guerilla tactics so the fire nation gave up fighting them.

Sokka and Katara found Aang, but being frozen in ice for a hundred years has ramifications and for almost four years the tribe focuses on healing the avatar.

Zuko is advised for continued peace to have an arranged marriage outside the fire nation. The best option is a the child of the chief of the southern tribe. Katara is in love with Aang and is heartbroken, but will do her duty for her people. Sokka finds a loophole that they can carefully and craftily exploit.

Aka they lie. They lie so hard and Sokka becomes the one betrothed to Fire Lord Zuko. He is sure there will be no consequences to the plan. Certainly not going to fall in love with the man he is lying to. At all. Nope indeedy, no love on the menu. Dang it.

Everything That I Am Not by Benedick | Rated T | 85k (Unfinished)

Sokka isn’t stupid. Not that his sister is, mind you (at least, he’d never call her that to her face now that she’s honed her waterbending), or any of the rest of Team Avatar, although sometimes it feels like he’s living in a different world from the rest of them — a world where running out of food means starving, and walking into a town full of firebenders with the Avatar in tow will get you killed, rather than help you free a beaten-down Earthbender colony.

Anyways.

Sokka isn’t stupid, which is why he laughs directly in Aunt Wu’s face when she tells him that he will marry the Fire Lord.

As always, if you're curious how I get my data or how to do this yourself, shoot me a DM or come bother me in my Discord Server (It's called The Swamp, we're all queer and neurodiverse with various interests and are currently having a pokemon themed Swampmas)

[narrators-journal]

Tatsujun having rough sex Top!Jun and bottom Tatsuya or make them both switches :0

Don’t ask me why it’s such a challenge to really capture a guy being dominant vs a girl for me. I’ve written so many femdom!Margaret stories, femdom is thoughtless. I fluster myself when a dude is dominating, just a lil lol. So, I’ll admit this might be a bit of a miss of the mark, I kinda just went feral with this one bc it gave me SO much trouble to think of a properly hot set up. Anywho! Hope u enjoy!

CW: Dub/noncon, tentacles, I hope Joker comes off as at least SLIGHTlY dominating here. Monsterfuckery (bc of the tentacles), a LIGHT touch of degrading enery. If u feel something else needs to be warned, I’ll add it. Rough sex, Jun’s in his joker era, but. It kinda counts lol.

For once, Tatsuya Suou’s bedroom was blissfully quiet after the sun had set. The normal chaos of nosey demons gone, no calls or texts from Eikichi or Lisa to inform him of the latest implosion of chaos and disaster, his brother gone on a case. Nothing but the soft buzz of nightly insects outside his open window. So, he was content to snuggle under his comforter and bury his face in his pillow. Finally able to get a full breath into his lungs without some vaguely snowman-esque demon to remind him of Joker’s hatred for him, nor puddle of living goo to get in his face and try to suffocate him.

He was free to take a deep, slow breath, and let it out so that his body melted into his mattress like a pad of butter on a fluffy pancake. His stress and anxiety washed out of his head by the usual drip of nonesensical thoughts and memories of a rail-thin ravenette he used to be friends with. Of their games, the gifts they swapped, the secrets they shared up until Jun had been transferred out of Sevens.

Yet, while the pale, soft-faced boy had left Tatsuya’s class, he continued to drift through his head when the sun went down. Allowed to haunt his dreams like a bittersweet siren, or some sort of succubus. One with a body that never seemed to be male or female at a glance, large, dark eyes curtained by thick black lashes on an annoyingly effeminate face. Did Tatsuya think so much of him because he was attracted to him as a dude? Or did he simply like shorter-haired girls who let their bangs hide one of their eyes so dramatically? It was a question that would haunt the brunette when morning came, but for the night, his subconscious was free to conjure some playful mimic of Jun to sit on Tatsuya’s lower back and run his delicate fingers up the backs of Tatsuya’s arms.

A mental image that, was rather vivid. Enough so, that it began to pull the tall brunette back out of Hypnos’ grasp at the gentle brush of the ravenette’s smooth skin over his own.

Too smooth of skin, actually. Tatsuya had felt Jun’s hands before, and they were smooth, but the warmth he felt crawl along the skin of his wrist was far toosmooth. More akin to the smooth, almost slimy skin of a frog rather than actual human skin. What the fuck…

So, the brunette opened his eyes to try and see an explanation in the thick shadows of his quiet bedroom. Which, seemed undisturbed at a first, bleary-eyed glance. However, as his eyes began to clear of the sleepy haze, a figure at his desk came more into focus. And, it didn’t take long for Tatsuya to recognize the snowy white of the familiar uniform, or the burning ember of blue flames that dimly glowed with dark amusement. “Good morning, sleepy head.” Joker mocked, the hiss of his gleeful voice like the scrape of metal upon metal. Yet, when the brunette shoved himself up in a panic, all it took was a firm yank from the thing at his wrists to flatten him back into his bed. “Oh, no no. Don’t bother squirming.” The demon giggled, the flower at the tip of his thin tail bobbing as he waved it at the brunette who snarled back. At least, until he honked like a car at the feeling of more heavy, smooth tendrils worming their way under the waistband of his pajama pants and pushed the fabric down to Tatsuya’s knees. “Hey!” The brunette yelped, but his attempts to fight away from the slime-drooling tentacles that trailed themselves up the backs of his thighs were useless. Well, to him. Joker seemed to enjoy the panic in the tall man’s voice and wide, brown eyes. “Oh yeah, I suppose you expect me to kill you, don’t you?” He asked, or more accurately, mocked in amusement, his tail asway behind him, as casual and calm as someone out for tea. “Sadly, that would be too merciful for someone like you, Tatsuya Suou. No, I can’t let you get off that easily. So! Instead, I’m going to break you down. Slowly tear down each and every ounce of pride and ego you have, until you’re nothing more than my personal bitch. Until you’re all mine.” He explained, his layered voice lowering into a dark, feral tone as he continued.

Each dark word like a fresh shot of adrenaline in Tatsuya’s blood, but no matter how he pulled and squirmed in the hold of the heavy tendrils, his wrists couldn’t escape their hold. Despite how smooth they were, the ink-colored tentacles were like a vice grip on his limbs, so all Tatsuya’s panic got him was a demented giggle from Joker. “It’s useless to fight, my cursed star. You can barely survive an encounter with my underlings. Just give in and submit to me quickly.” The demon purred, his words punctuated by the abrupt thrust of a tentacle into Tatsuya’s ass.

The pain of sudden penetration not at all softened by the thick lubricant-slime-pre-cum substance that the dark appendages had been using to draw desings over the tanned skin of his thighs and ass cheek. Nor by a grace period before the first thrust. Instead, once the thick tentacle was buried inside the brunette, it almost instantly began to pull out in order to slam back into him.

It wasn’t until the third ruthless thrust, that the slime it leaked seemed to finally work to ease the painful drag of girthy muscle against Tatsuya’s walls, but it also allowed the tentacle to thrust quicker. Which, translated the friction into pleasure all too quickly for the tall brunette’s comfort.

Yet, the feelings of shame and arousal only mixed together into a melancholic mess of emotions. On the logical hand, Tatsuya knew he couldn’t help but feel his stomach clench whenever the tentacle slammed against his prostate, and thus shouldn’t be all too ashamed that the cruel pace excited him so much. On the other, though, he didn’t want to cave so easily into Joker’s whims. So, he kept his face in his pillows and sheets as much as possible, and swallowed the noises that the ruthless waves of pleasure threatened to loose. But, his sheets and pillows didn’t seem to do much to fully silence the rogue noises that slipped out of the brunette. Much to the Joker’s sick amusement. “It’s so cute to see you fight so valiantly, my cursed star.” The demon purred, his layered voice simultaneously screechy, and melodious as he continued, “Just makes your eventual submission all the sweeter,~” But, Tatsuya refused to answer the monster that watched him, in fact, he all around tried to ignore the demon’s presence in the room. Not only because of the humiliation of being watched while smooth tentacles threatened to awaken something dark and shameful in him, but because it was simply painful to see the doppleganger’s smile. Jun’s smile, in the dark.

So, while Joker giggled, the brunette simply kept his face buried in his bedding until one of the demon’s tendrils wrapped around his throat to lift his face and let him breathe. “Ah, ah, ah. Don’t think you can just suffocate and escape. That’d be too nice for you.” Joker said, and Tatsuya couldn’t help but glare at him. But, the dirty look didn’t do anything but earn the brunette a cruel grin and harsher, more targetted thrusts from the thick tentacle that filled him up.

And, with no pillow to muffle the renegade hums and gasps, all Tatsuya could really do was stew in the shameful pleasure that rippled through his body each time the thing brushed against his prostate and claw into his sheets. “That’s a good boy~ Make plenty of noises for me, Tatsuya.” Joker purred, the tendril around Tatsuya’s neck shifted slightly to trace a heart onto the tanned man’s cheek with the odd lubricant-slime-pre-cum slime that they produced. Which, he tried to focus on instead of the painful increase of smog that threatened to empty his head of any other thoughts but the desperation he felt in his belly. But, it was near impossible to escape the twisted pleasure that lapped at his skin like the flames of a house fire. Worsened, when Joker continued to offer praise for Tatsuya’s ‘good behavior’.

So, to some extent, it really was futile as the demon claimed, to fight against the weight of the tendrils around his limbs and waist. With the way the tendril relentlessly thrust into him, writhed and flexed against every sensitive spot in Tatsuya’s body until his shame burned into thoughtless need. “That’s it, cursed star. Be good and loud so all the demons know who you belong to.~” “Good boy.” “Cum for me, Tacchi. Cum like the whore you are.” All fed the fire in Tatsuya’s skin along with the friction. Until, finally, Tatsuya couldn’t help but succumb to the flames of hell.

Not that his weak whines did anything to stop the tentacle that pistoned into him, but for a brief moment, it did give him a brief burst of pleasure to dull the shame and pain. At least, until Joker’s jumbled, layered voice bled back in through the haze of euphoria. “Naughty little brat, who gave you permission to actually enjoy yourself? As selfish as ever, I guess. We’ll break that, though.”

[snailsandpuppy-dogtails]

How You Say It

This CM Garvez fic was also published a year ago today and never shared on here. Kind of angsty, kind of funny. Rossi hosts a Solstice party at Penelope's insistence, Hank Morgan unknowingly uncovers a secret. WC: 2,169 Ao3

It was a blissfully warm summer day at Rossi’s house, a rare day not marred down by the typical mugginess of the east coast. Emily, Penelope, Kristy, and JJ sat on the back patio enjoying the afternoon sun, drinks in hand. Smaller groups of agents and family dotted the expanse of his property; Spencer, Tara, and Savannah standing in the shade of a tree on the lawn, Matt and Rossi congregating around a grill, Will and Luke busily setting up a game of flag football for the kids, who were off playing with bubble wands and the horseshoe pit. Derek, naturally, was flitting from cluster to cluster catching up with all his family, and Krystall was inside mixing up more of the deliciously citrusy Sangria everyone was sipping on. Penelope thought it was a perfect way to enjoy Summer, her family all together, sun shining, and happy feelings all around. She felt rather proud of herself for having convinced Rossi to host it, and for arranging things so that everyone she loved would be there.

Hank Morgan, adorable, funny, and straight forward, A perfect miniature of her favorite person, was sitting on her lap snuggling in to his favorite gift giver, taking a break before the kids vs. adults game started. "Auntie, what’s charade?” he asked turning to her.

"Ooo! my little muffin,” she said, shimmying him, "it’s one of my favorite games! Have you played?”

Emily leaned in, whispering conspiratorially to Hank, teasing, “It may be your aunt Penelope’s favorite game, but she’s not always the best.”

Penelope mocked shock, howling out “oooh!”

He smiled at Emily and shook his head in a sign of no to his aunt. His face, growing pensive, finger coming to the small ‘o’ of his mouth, he asked, "Does Luke like it too?”

JJ and Kristy seemingly knowing where this was going shot each other looks, eyebrows raising and small smiles forming before going back to watching the two.

She laughed leaning her face to his, tickling him. “I don’t know, you’d have to ask him. And seeing as how you’re full of questions today that shouldn’t be a problem for you.”

He shrieked with laughter and twisted in her hold. When she stopped he sucked in a few lung-fulls of air catching his breath and relaxed against her chest, her chin resting on his head and hand across his stomach. Morgan, from his place with Spencer, caught her eye and gave a warm smile that she returned, his baby girl holding his baby boy.

After a moment of silence Hank turned in her lap to look back up at her again, continuing his probe, "But, I don’t understand. Why would mommy want you to stop playing your favorite game? Do you play it too late?”

There was a chorus of “OOooooo!” as the trio of women around her covered their mouths to hide smiles and laugh.

“Auntie P. plays a lot of things too late for mommy’s liking.” JJ winked at the boy.

The suggestive comment going over his head, Hank only went on, "Does Luke play too though? Why won’t you play with him Auntie?”

Penelope's body flamed red from her chest to the tips of her ears at the barrage, mind suddenly blank of any clever response. Emily nearly slipped out of her chair at the physiological reaction from Penelope, JJ and Kristy cackled with laughter at the terribly kept secret that was the tension between the two agents.

“Yeah, Penelope, why don’t you play with Lu-“ Kristy joined in teasing, but was cut off.

“O-KAY! We are stopping right there.” she said just a little louder and more panicked than she’d intended, shooting a evil look at the three.

Luke and Derek both turned to face the noise, questioning, as did Savannah, who might have looked the slightest bit guilty through her amused grin. Where the couple turned back to their conversations, Luke watched on. Penelope Garcia seemed to always exuded joy and happiness, except for right now where she was clearly flustered. He found it incredibly adorable, the attention made her glow, cheeks and nose coloring, and filled her with nervous energy.

"She looks nice today…then I expect you always feel that way.” Came the slow southern drawl.

“Yeah…” was his immediate distracted reply, then squinting back at Will, “Who?”

Will smiled lightly seeing through his bullshit easily, “You know who. Sometimes we say things with words, and other times with a look. People say things different, but it all has the same meaning.”

Luke eyed him and shook his head, “Right. Well, we should go get the kids, cones are all set up.”

Will took one last look over at the group, then back to Luke, “Yeah, why don’t you get Hank, while I round up the bubble crew.”

Penelope turned her attention to the boy on her lap ignoring the titters and giggles around her. "My delectable little candy bar, what has mommy been saying?"

Hank looked very self-assured, reciting, "Mommy told daddy she want’s to know when you and Luke will 'give up this whole charade and get together’ so I wanted to know what charade was and why you won’t hang out with Luke. Is he mean? Does he cheat? Daddy cheats at games sometimes.”

Again she was encased in a cacophony of laughter and howls from her friends around her. Penelope’s head came crashing into his back trying her best to hide her face, bury her shame, and cover her reddening cheeks, muttering to herself against his shirt. Hank wiggled a little against her, trying to get free.

“Oh, little man, we all want to know the answer to that.” Said a getting-more-tipsy-by-the-moment Emily through the noise.

At that moment Luke walked up.

“I came to collect this one for the game, but you all appear to be having a great time here…” Penelope looked to Luke with culpable embarrassment. He knit his eyebrows together, mouth hanging open in an amused grin, wondering what they’d all been talking about to make her blush five shades darker.

“LUKE!” The boy’s eyes widened in excitement, nearly shooting up and out of Penelope's lap. "Do you like charades? Do you cheat at games? Are you mean? Why won’t Auntie Penelop-“

Penelope’s hand flew out and over his mouth muffling what she knew was next. She tucked him back against her into a hug, eyes never straying from Luke’s, as she death-whispered into his ear “Hank Spencer Morgan, you finish that question and we will never play that video game again.” and released her hand.

His aunt once again had his full attention, turning on her with imploring eyes, “But Auntie P, you said to ask him!”

“What’s going on here, Baby Girl?” Derek had been watching with interest and decided to join in.

Penelope’s face showed every emotion tumbling inside of her, rage, embarrassment, mortification, rage. She fought the urge to snap at the people around her and stalk off. She wanted to kill Derek, but that would only lead to confirmation of the complicated feelings she was having for her teammate, she wanted to strangle the women around her who were intent on teasing her, and she wanted to melt into the cement at the sight of Luke, who had no business looking as fine as he did today in a regular old t-shirt and shorts.

Luke took in the faces of the women around her, hands and drinks covering mouths, eyes looking at anything but him. A devious smile graced his face as he worked out what might have been the topic. Holding out his hand to the Morgan in her lap, he said, “Hey, Hank, we’re gonna get the game started, why don’t you help me round up everyone else and you can ask me that question faaar away from Auntie Meanie.” and winked.

Hank jumped up grabbing his hand, glancing back tentatively over his shoulder at Penelope, who was burying her face in her hands, as they walked in the direction of the horseshoe pit.

Once the pair were out of range she reeled on Derek, voice dark and dangerous, “Derek Morgan, charade ? A CHARADE?!” she shrieked, and the tittering trio broke into fits of laughter again. Awareness hit Derek and his hands shot up as he started to explain, walking slowly towards her like he would a suspect, tone placating. “Look, Mama, that wasn’t me, and he wasn’t supposed to hear it-“

Penelope got up wanting to finish the conversation away from the prying ears of her co-workers, Derek following behind.

A wave of “Ahh, Penelope!”s and “Come on, we were just playing!”s falling flat in her wake.

Penelope stalked into the house, echoes of her shoes all around before picking a door and entering. Safely tucked away in a study off the main room, she turned, hot tears filling her eyes and hushed out “The things I tell you, I tell you in confidence!” How he could betray her like this, how he could allow hesitant confessions between them to become gossip…

“Baby Girl-“ he started again. Her finger shot out, “No! Don’t you 'Baby Girl' me right now, Derek!”

He continued, “I didn’t tell her anything, Savannah’s just being Savannah. But when I told you to be friendlier to Alvez, I didn’t mean fall in love with the man!

Penelope jerked back, reflexively gagging at the word “I am not-“ her knees slipped from under her and she swooped holding on to the mantle next to her for support. He chuckled lightly coming over to wrap her in an embrace.

“Sweetness, there’s no shame in that.” She held him back, leaning into him, insisting whisper tickling his ear “I’m not.” He laughed again, “Ok, hotshot, but know, if you were, you’d have the full support of everyone out there, and he absolutely wouldn’t deserve you.”

She laughed pulling away and wiped at the unshed tears, emotional crisis mostly averted “I am pretty great.” Derek straightened, fixing her with a look, “Damn straight, woman. Now let’s get out there before someone suspects we're in love.” Penelope pouted, “Oh, Sugar, you saying we’re not?” He just winked and led her back out into the sunny backyard.

While Penelope occupied herself with one Morgan, Luke was having a very entertaining and eyeopening conversation with another. He looked down at Hank with a smile as they walked, “So you gonna ask me that question?”

The boy looked up, apprehension apparent on his face, and squinted, “Auntie Penelope said if I do, we can’t play the video game any more.”

Luke laughed at her cleverness, bartering game time for secrets, he wouldn’t push it. “Ok, well, I never did answer your other questions. "I do like Charades, and I do not cheat. Even if i’m losing….and I’m only mean to bad guys.”

Hank was pleased he wouldn’t be losing out on video game time with auntie P, and nodded, doubly satisfied with Luke’s answers. "Auntie Penelope said she loves Charades. Do you ever play with her?”

Luke’s eyebrows rose high on his forehead, “I don’t think we’ve ever played Charades together, but your auntie and I have definitely played games.” he said, chuckling.

Hank’s brow furrowed in confusion at the response “Why does mommy think you do then? She said-“ He froze, remembering what happened the last time he repeated the phrase. “Uhh, never mind."

Luke watched the kid who’d now stopped in his tracks, wheels of his own turning. He had nieces and nephews, he knew how this went. “Hank, how about I guess? Then you aren’t telling me, not really…” he tempted. “And if Auntie P gets mad, we say it’s my fault. She can be mad at me.”

A massive toothy smile broke out across the boy’s face and he eagerly shook his head. "Ok."

Luke took his time playing at solving the puzzle, “I think it has something to do… with Charades…” He glanced down checking in, Hank again nodded eagerly.

“And Auntie Penelope?” Another nod.

“And me?” Another look down confirming he was on the right track.

“Hmmm" he mused, hamming it up. “...Mommy said me and auntie Penelope play Charades together?” he finally guessed.

Hanks head jerked up and down so hard he was making himself dizzy. Luke, however, was very confused by the incorrect revelation and even more so about why Penelope wouldn’t want him to know about it.

Hank, unable to stop his curiosity, went on to deliver the missing piece, “Luke, whys everyone keep saying CharadeS mommy called it Charade.”

And then it hit him.

Luke smiled a small private smile at the realization that perhaps, perhaps, it wasn’t just him, if other people saw it too... He wrapped a large hand on the boy's small shoulder as they got to the pit. “Sometimes people just say things differently, little man, don’t worry about it.” Now if only he knew how to make Penelope hear what he was saying...

[honeybeeoftherose]

A plaid flannel that reminds me of the start, how did a piece of clothing begin opening the panels leading to my heart?

I’m here at the cafe you wanted to take me to.

Here at a blue table meant for two, and of course, the person who’s missing is you.

To the man who couldn’t love me,

who ever thought that this is where we’d be?

Your aesthetic compares to the flowers that bloom in May.

Your aura exudes the warm embrace of the sun on a summer day.

A mind built like the ocean, so captivating, it takes my breath away.

Loving you, has been like running through a maze built of roses with an unfair exit.

Thorns in my side, but still, I hate it when we divide.

Similarities define a connection that feels so divine, and at times it feels like we’re birds that have flocked from the same feather.

Or maybe I’m just stuck in a daze, because for me, there’s never a shred of doubt or second thoughts when we’re together.

When our bodies align and our fingers intertwine, I can’t help but feel we’re the perfect fit.

But then the separation hits, and I begin to think about all the things I’ve missed.

Tried to stand my ground, but my weakest points have been exposed,

and I suppose, I can’t stand the thoughts of knowing what is true.

That you just don’t love me, the way I love you.

The flame that bursts like fireworks, finally met the fire that burns steadily.

A match made, what could go wrong?

But then, your feelings begin to fade.

Never did I think I’d see the day, that you would start to treat me this way.

You denied me of nurturing the seed you planted within me.

What could have been a blessing in disguise, you looked at with evil eyes.

I tried to share the bounty from Mother Tree, but you rejected it and reminded me of our lack of unity.

Was I always here on the other side?

At war with Love from the moment our worlds started to collide.

These feelings are so overwhelming, then here we go, I feel my anxiety stemming.

I try to be stoic, but of course I blow it, now I’m lost in a sea of emotions while you try to abandon ship.

Didn’t think that pure devotion could ignite this kind of commotion.

I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable, and I’m sorry that I’m becoming so poetic.

But when you touch me, your skin becomes magnetic,

And again, I always find myself falling back into a soul connection that leaves me feeling so astray.

Never did I think I’d meet someone who makes me feel this way.

Yes, I know I’m in my feelings, and at times it feels so right,

especially when I’m wrapped up in your arms at night.

Butterflies may fly away, but the roots we lay grow down deep.

We’re running around in circles, and I can’t help but chase the lines that lead to you.

The price of believing in hopes and dreams are becoming steep,

Far from reality, I became immersed into the thoughts of all that we could be,

if only you loved me.

You asked for space, but I’m drawn to the constellations like the freckles on your face.

Searching for you like the North Star, hoping that it leads me to a different place, one that’s shared with you.

You’ve built up walls of stone where I wanted to meet you with peace and prosperity, and somehow I still can’t understand why this has to be so hard.

Having to face the fact, that you’re ready to go and stop everything in its tracks.

Torn between triggers, and the truth.

Trying to discern my dreams, why you always appear in them, and what it all means.

Attempts to keep an open mind go undermined.

Yes, I hear what you say but I can’t feel it.

To the man who couldn’t love me,

As much as I wish I could travel the rest of this journey by your side,

You tell me this is my stop, and provide me with no choice but to step off and suck up my pride.

Maybe our paths will realign, now it’s time for me to fall back and rest, but still I wish you nothing but the best,

To the man who couldn’t love me.

- BH vs MD

[chiwhorei]

the folly of man

pairing: e. todoroki x fem!reader

genre: smut, 18+ minors dni

word count: ~2.6k

tags: the softest!enji there ever was, crybabie!reader, age gap (20ish vs. 50), d/s dynamics, belly bulge, squirting, overstim, daddy kink, size kink, dacryphilia, a spank, breeding kink, creampie, i am dramatic and clinically melancholy so it’s a little angsty but it’s really just unabashed, self-indulgent fluff

a/n: i screamed about soft!enji to @messwriting a few weeks ago, then the other night enji took me to paris and wrecked my shit in my dreams. the result? complete self-indulgence. i will not be taking criticism on my desire to fuck this man, he is a drawing. (the banner image is from the lonely doll by dare wright, if you know this book we probably have very similar issues sksksksksk)

hymn: angel by finneas

“Abashed the devil stood and felt how awful goodness is and saw Virtue in her shape how lovely: and pined his loss,” ~ John Milton, Paradise Lost

He swears it’s your quirk that got him. Grabbed him by the collar, stole his soul from his chest— you swiped it right from his rib cage.

You sit across from him, legs folded under each other and pen pressing against your lips. Is it your lips? Or the way words curl past them?

A siren’s call in the form of a 20-something journalist. He hates the likes— prodding for sound bites and snippets to plaster across front pages. But your figure buckles in on itself, nerves weighing down the fabric of a light pink blouse and tight-yet-tasteful pencil skirt. Your presence is gentle and honeyed, it feels warm where Enji is usually burning hot.

Your fever spreads across his cheeks and nose.

“I’m sorry, sir, did you need me to repeat the question?”

Your bottom lip trembles nervously, pulled in between your teeth to gnaw on. Freshly graduated and on your very first assignment, it seemed hilarious to send the newly minted recruit into a white-hot tongue lashing.

“Mr. Number One has chewed the head off of every reporter in Japan, it’s a right of passage.”

The echo of your colleague’s stifled laugh rings in your ear as you stare back, you scan over the small wrinkles by his eyes and the jagged scar across his face. The silvered skin curves around his features like atonement. There’s something about the prolific hero that seems to pull you towards him. You grab the side of your chair so as to not fall forward right into his orbit.

Any attempt at distance was doomed from the beginning.

He shakes his head, eyes darting from either of yours to find the question you asked him. He coughs awkwardly, nodding his head for you to continue. Any desire to snap at you dissolves into the carpet with the very first laugh. You let out a small, tinkling giggle against better judgement that cracks the glassed tension.

“What is your biggest inspiration?”

The question hangs in the air a moment before a rehearsed answer falls from his mouth, something about the citizens of his community and the desire to keep his country safe. Whatever tumbles out is less interesting than how you smile in response.

Every person in the room-- agents, publicists, the poor intern holding a black coffee in his trembling hands-- watch on, collectively agape, at the scene before them.

Flame Hero: Endeavor breaks composure for a moment to send you a docile, lopsided smile.

You decide it’s something you won’t soon get tired of seeing.

“Did you get everything you wanted,” his voice trails off with a hint of uncertainty, one hand coming up to scratch at the back of his head, “I could answer a few more questions over dinner.”

Enji stands in shock at his own behavior, the inferno flickers little more than a candle in your eyeline. Every minute holds sixty seconds of opportunity, and Enji’s hair is graying at the ends. Even if you brush the dusty old hero from your shoulders with guffaw, even if you roll your eyes or kiss his insole with a pointed heel. He can’t afford to waste a moment more.

It has to be your quirk, he decides, reciting like a prayer the only logical answer to his sweating palms and clambering heart. Nothing makes sense but keeping you within arms reach. It must be some kind of hypnosis, maybe a pheromone.

Enji’s penance lies in the soft, supplied skin of a quirkless civilian.

***

There are few places that have felt like home, no matter what four walls build a house around him. He alone is responsible for each one decaying. He deserves a spot in every plane of hell.

Enji leans against the headboard, scanning over pages of John Milton and enjoying the quiet just after dusk. Looking over the top of his glasses, the book in hand falls out of frame, like most everything does.

Pink lace hangs like bated breath from your shoulders and hips. You look on to him for approval, the set your eyes had lingered on in a boutique window now brandishes the swell of your breasts.

“My perfect girl.” His words are filled with wonder, pulling at the ends of his mouth when you twirl, the ends of flowing lace pick up around you like wings.

Winter air creeps from the open balcony to hit your skin, spreading chills down every inch. Enji watches as you shiver, the cool breeze prickles past pick lace with little effort.

“Come here.” Enji tosses his glasses and book to the bedside table and pats his lap.

Nothing feels more like home than when you settle to lie atop his naked chest, cheek pressed firmly against his pulse.

You rest your chin against his sternum, hands crawling up to find warmth from his skin. He feels the thin, golden ring as your touch trails around his neck.

His own hands, calloused and battered, eclipse over your lower back to find purchase against your ass.

Away from the prying eyes of domestic paparazzi and forty minutes outside of Paris— Enji cuts out what feels like a stolen heaven.

Idle chat about the museum he took you to today fills the room comfortably. Your fingertip comes down to trace the lines of marred skin across the bridge of his nose, he hums and smiles as you talk about paintings.

None stood out to him.

He takes your hand in his much bigger one, kissing the band that mimics his own. You tangle your fingers together.

“This feels like a dream,” your voice is barely above a whisper, lest the night air hears the talk of lovers.

“I’m not totally convinced you aren’t a dream.” Enji pulls you to sit back against his legs, in this position you can meet his eyes without straining upward. Strong hands come down to rest at your hips, thumbs rubbing lightly against the lingerie’s fabric.

You scoff, batting at his chest, you laugh his comments off in moments like this. But Enji is convinced one day you will lift straight from the world with nothing left but your shoes keeping the earth weighted down.

Soft lips ghost over his, an invitation he’ll never refuse. Your mouth is against him, small hands coming to either side of Enji’s face. His graying stubble is coarse under your fingers. You inhale deeply, he smells like campfire and expensive cologne. Your tongue slips between his lips. His mouth tastes like the remnants of the bottle of red wine you shared after dinner

The hands around your middle pull your impossibly closer, pressing into your lower back to grind your hips down against the bulge in his sweatpants. Your body moves against him, panties rubbing against your already throbbing clit.

“Daddy.” The title wraps in chords around his vertebrae, the sounds of whimpering hits his ear, and he notices the wet patch rubbing right against his knee.

“What do you want, princess? Tell daddy what you want.” The maneuvering of your hips starts slow, but Enji has you almost bouncing on his leg before you can answer him. Both of your hands wrap around his left wrist, tugging it in between your legs.

“I want you to touch me, please. I- I need it.” You bite the inside of your cheek when the pads of his fingers graze the damp, thin material of your panties, his burning touch sets every blood cell aflame.

“You’re so wet, princess, what’s got you all worked up?” There’s a gleam of humor in his voice, seeing you desperate for him has Enji stiffening beneath you.

“My precious little thing, I’ll take good care of you.” His words write you a promise, it extends far past a night of love in Paris.

You can feel his assurance carved into your heart.

Enji’s hand dips into the front of your underwear, ghosting over your clit and running against your swollen lips. He marvels at your response, the smallest ministrations have your head rolling to the side.

His pointer and middle finger prod against you, inching inside carefully. Even with the utmost care, you wince at the stretch. No matter how many times he’s fucked you open in this whirlwind year,

“You’re tighter than a fucking vise, Christ.”

A long moan escapes you, knees moving to dig into the mattress below you for leverage to buck against his hand. Enji curls his fingers upwards, calloused tips finding the spongy patch of skin that has you squirming. His fingers cross over each other, pumping into you and easing you to relax against the intrusion.

“Daddy, I want your cock. I’m ready, please.” The heat in your core is rising, licking against your nerves like wildfire. Enji tutts in response to your begging, his thumb coming down to rub taught circles into your clit.

“I know, princess, but you remember the rules. Cum on my fingers, and I’ll give you what you want.” Enji picks up the pace of his fingers, his own patience thinning at the edges with each call for your daddy.

“Close, ‘m close,” your voice wobbles, aching legs pushing you against him, chasing desperately for that first release.

Enji feels you clenching tight in finality, a squeal breaching the steamy space around you. You crack in his tight hold, the taste of bliss coats your tongue-- it tastes like tears.

You slump forward against his chest, coming to float back down to earth before he sends you hurdling back towards the sun.

“You’re so beautiful, princess, absolutely perfect.” Enji’s voice is heavy, lined with a certain bitterness you are familiar with. His compliments always sound like apologies.

You lift your head, forehead pressing against his, the stray hair around your face tickling his skin.

There aren’t words that could heal decades. No amount of atonement, no prayers to any gods will fix a life of despair. He shoulders the blame of it all, heavy against bones and muscle.

Moving to kiss him tenderly, lips pulling him back into the world's sweetest direction. You shouldn’t let him use you as his redemption. If Enji were another man, a better man, he would have walked away from you that fateful afternoon under fluorescent light with just the fleeting feeling you dipped his heart in.

He’s not any kind of good in this world, Enji is a foolish bastard.

He’ll keep kissing you, he’ll touch and lick and fuck you until your wings pick up in the wind and fly you away.

“I want to ride your cock, Daddy. Let me make you feel good too.” You beg for him once again, you beg to be a distraction, the sweetest kind of diversion-- hidden snugly in the quiet of a French villa.

Enji is meticulous with stripping you of the dainty lace, brushing off the straps of your bra so the cups fall right under your pert nipples. He moves his hands slowly, snaking up your sides to swipe his thumbs against the pebbled buds. You don’t try to stop the wines falling like prayer, your body still on edge from your first orgasm.

He pulls off your soaked panties, eyes tracing the strings of slick collecting and breaking off from your glistening cunt.

“Such a precious little pussy, and it’s all mine.” Enji frees his cock from his sweats and boxers, the length springing to slap against his abdomen. He pumps his hand a few times before pressing it against your stomach. It’s no surprise that his size is impressive, long and thick in an ever-intimidating way.

Enji admires how his cock presses against you, tip nudging against your belly button. In comparison to your smaller form, it’s a wonder he hasn’t ripped you in half.

You’d let him.

“No more teasing, Daddy. I need it, please.” Desperation sparks against your nerves, igniting with the sharp sound of Enji’s hand against your ass.

“Don’t get mouthy now, princess.” His warning is light, he’s never been good at denying you.

He pulls your hips up, lining himself up so you can sink down onto him. If his fingers make you whimper, the first breach of his shaft makes you wail.

Your hands find his shoulders, digging in to steady yourself with every deliciously unforgiving inch. You’ll never get used to his size, you never want to.

Enji has held composure with white knuckles, but his resolve is rusting with every movement of your descent. His desire to tear into you becomes untamable, his mind swims in with the velveteen grip you suck him in with.

“You’re mine, fuck, you’re mine forever.” He will promise you until he believes it himself.

He’ll believe in forever if forever means you.

The folly of man is nestled at the apex of your thighs, is pleading gasps, is begging for more, is too much and too little.

And Enji is a fool in love.

The gates of heaven open between your quivering legs to let the devil in. He’ll take every moment he can steal.

As your hips settle down finally, the feeling of being so completely full has tears collecting in your lashes to run down your cheeks. It’s depraved, truly, how beautiful your destruction is.

Enji gives you a moment, adjusting to his size and relaxing, his hand comes down to rub against your stomach, tracing against the skin lightly.

“I can feel it,” his breath hitches, the pulsing around him is dizzying, he feels his tip as it moves inside of you, “fuck, I can feel my cock in your tummy.”

Shaky thighs start moving above him, the bounce of fat and flesh atop his hardened body. He can’t help the declarations flying from his mouth, he can’t stop the itching feeling to make you his completely.

“I want to fuck a baby into you, want to fill you so full.” He can feel the way your body reacts to his most perverse desire, “I want you round and swollen with my child.”

Enji grabs your hips, taking control and quickening the pace of his assault on your weeping pussy. You cry out, a string of babbled, “Please, daddy, please fuck me full, s-so full.”

You can feel your second orgasm bubbling up with each stroke of Enji’s cock against your abused pussy. All words are lost, all thoughts fuzzy aside from the man pounding himself into you from below.

“Cum around me, little girl, cum around my cock.” Enji’s words are little more than a growl, head thrown back into the pillows as you constrict around him. His fingers come down against your clit again, rubbing with fervor. He’s adamant on throwing you head-first, body limp and overstimulated in every way.

You feel it in the gnashing of your teeth, the wound chord snapping like floss around Enji. You feel yourself gushing, your cum leaking around him and dripping onto the bed sheets.

Enji cums with one final buck, hips lifting off of the bed as he spills into you. You can feel the thick spurts against your still pulsating walls, filling you to the brim and trickling out even before you separate.

He stays inside of you for a moment, large hands wrapped around your middle, pulling you to crumble into his chest. You collapse against his warm, jagged skin. He lulls you with soft strokes to your hair, behind the flush and sweat on your face, he sees the dizzy, love-drunk expression tugging on your lips.

No matter how many times you disagree, Enji knows it’s true.

The swelling, disorienting feeling of your smile. The visions of a future, of the life he doesn't deserve but wouldn’t give up for any deal the devil could make him. The sight of you, simply and without motive, every day.

It has to be your quirk.

all writing is dymphnasprose’s original content, please do not repost or modify. do no read my content as asmr.©️

[to-hell-and-beyond]

Were Your Love Lies

Robby Keene x Female Reader

Requested: Yes : No

Request: If your requests are open and of course if you want to write this, I would love to read a Robby Keene x reader were reader is friends with Sam and likes Robby(the feelings are reciprocated). But he and Sam are exes and so reader is hesitant to date Robby because of girl code. Sam can be back with Miguel or at least she’s over Robby. If you hate this idea you are more than welcome to ignore! -Anon

Ok, sorry this took sooooo long. I kinda made Sam the enemy because that's the kinda mood I am in today. I hope you enjoy.

Summary: You and Robby have gotten closer ever since his breakup with Sam. You decided that a beach party s the best time to tell your best friend your feelings about her ex. That is until a very big secret unfolds...

Words: 1580

The sounds of skateboards hitting concrete echoed around you and Robby as you walked by. It had become a common accurce for the both of you to be walking around town. The two of you had gotten closer as your best friend Sam had taken some time off. You barely saw her anymore, just at the dojo. You knew she had been hanging out with the Cobra a lot more but you were still ok with it. She was your best friend and she could have more than one friend.

But you did wish you could talk to her because of the girl code. Because you had been spending so much time with Robby, you felt your feelings of him grow more into a romantic feeling. You wanted to tell Sam and ask her for her blessing. But every time you seemed to try to talk to her she would make up some sort of excuse.

“I was thinking that maybe we could talk Mr.LaRusso to going to visit the beach this weekend. What do you think?” Robby asked as your eyes went glossy looking into the sky.

“Y/n?” He asked again as it finally got your attention.

“W-what? S-sorry, what are you saying?” You chucked as you turned to face him. He had his sweet smile on his face and his hair sparkled and shined from the rays of sun hitting him. You wished you could take a photo of him right now and keep it forever. He looked so beautiful in that moment.

“It’s ok Y/n. How do you feel about going to the beach this weekend. Maybe afterwards we could host a party?”

“I’d like that.”

-------

So there you were. Standing in the middle of the beach with the flames of the campfire behind glistening in the night sky. The practice at the beach had been a huge success as both you and Robby learned so much. You had finally mastered that kick that you’ve been wanting to land for a while now. Robby was so happy for you that you felt kinda embarrassed. Of course you did not show it but your heart swelled up in pride by his compliments.

Sam couldn't come. Something about “already promised my friend I’d help them study'', whatever that meant. You were getting kinda worried about Sam. She never answered your calls or read your texts anymore. Heck, she even started leaving you on open on snap! So you hoped that when you sent her the invite for the party that she would come. She was your best friend after all.

You looked around to see that some of the Cobras were already there. They didn't seem to be there to pick a fight with anybody so you were happy about that. The last thing you needed was another beach fight.

“Have you seen Sam anywhere?” You asked some of the Cobras as they all turned to look at you. You guys were not enemies but not the best of friends. You tolaterted each other.

“Probably with Miguel.” The one with the Mohawk “Hawk” joked as the rest of the Cobras laughed. You were confused and wondered what that meant.

“Seems like they never leave each other's side.” Another Cobra “Mitch” said which made them all laugh again.

“I’m sorry but, why would she be with Miguel?” You asked confused as they all stopped laughing to look at you. Did you really not know?

“Y/n…” Aisha said as she came up to stand beside you. Even though she had left, she still came sometimes to party and talk with her Cobra friends and old teammates.

“Ever since Tory left...Miguel and Sam had been...close. Take a look for yourself.” You looked to where Aisha was pointing to see your best friend and her ex making out.

So this is why your best friend keeps ditching you and Robby. She was sucking the face off of her ex. Who she claimed she was over with. Didn’t really look like she was over him. You hadn't even made a move on Robby because of the girl code but she was here. Was it really that hard for her to tell you that she was dating Miguel again? But maybe this was all some sort of misunderstanding. You decided to take matters into your own hands and go to talk to her.

“Glad you could make it Sam! You too Miguel.” You called out as you walked towards the couple. Sam had a look of shock as she immediately stopped kissing Miguel to look at you.

“H-hey Y/n” Sam muttered as she looked at you. You were confused on why she looked so worried. Did she think that you didn't support her relationship?

“Can I talk to you for a second?” You wanted the details. When did this happen, were, why and so much more. You also wanted to ask her for her blessing to start dating Robby.

“S-shure.” She kissed Miguel's cheek as you waved to him. He waved back as Sam led you to a clearing just a few meters away from the ever growing beach party. You sat on one of the tree stumps there as she sat on another one just a few feet away from you.

“I want to know it all. Why have you been ignoring me? Why didn't you tell me you were dating Miguel again? Why were you so scared when I came up to you? And how did that whole relationship come back to the world of the living?” You asked as she began to fiddle with her thumbs.

“You gotta start realizing what I was feeling at the time Y/n. Ever since Robby dumped me I was heartbroken. Miguel was there and he was also there, threw the whole thing. Every tear and every heart breaking moment. He apologized for everything that happened and we got close.” Sam tried to explain.

“Ok Sam. First off, Robby never dumped you. I was there when that happened, you told him that you needed space. Second, why couldn't you tell me? I’m ok with you being with Miguel. I just wish you would have told me.” Sam looked down.

Flashback:

You heard shouting coming from outside the dojo as you left the punching bag to go check it out. The voice of your best friend Sam’s voice grew louder and louder as Robby’s grew quieter and quieter. It was like he almost didn't want to fight.

“You know what!” Sam yelled as she pointed her finger at Robby. You saw the look of despair on his face and you swore you heard your heart crack.

“We’re going on a break!” She yelled again as she shoved past Robby and walked right out of the dojo.

“You ok?” You asked Robby. He opened his mouth to respond to you but he broke down in sobs. You held him tight as you let him let all of it out. That was the start of your friendship.

“I ran out and you didn’t go after me!” Sam said as she clenched her sleeve.

“If this is what this is about Sam, I’m sorry. I never meant for you to feel like I was putting you in second place. Robby was there and he was hurt! I had to help him! That’s kinda the reason I also wanted to talk to you…” Sam looked at you curiously as you took a deep breath and looked up to look at her.

“Well, I’ve gotten closer to Robby when you were kinda with Miguel. We got really, really close. Sam...I like Robby and I want your permission to...make a move on him.” You said as Sam looked at you with disbelief.

“Y/n. Don’t you think that’s kinda weird. Like me and Robby were just dating.”

“But aren’t you with Miguel now? Aren’t you over Robby?”

“That’s not what this is about Y/n! First, you interrupt me and Miguel to tell me that you like my ex? What happened to the girl code!”

“That’s why i'm trying to ask you-”

“You have no idea what it’s like to date him! It's always reassuring him that you love him and that you would never leave him. It’s exhausting! Sorry that I’m trying to be a good friend and try to stop you from making the same huge mistake that I made!” Sam yelled as you knew she looked embarrassed as you noticed some of the Cobras looking your way.

“ You know what Sam. This is exactly why your relationship didn't work. You blame everything on everyone and if something isn't what you exactly like you drop it. That’s what happened to me and Robby. It's not either of our faults it's yours. So you know what. I’m going to ask Robby to date me whether you like it or not.” You said as you stood up and grabbed your bag and left to somewhere quiet. You didn’t need to deal with a bunch of teenagers right now.

“Hey, have you guys seen Y/n? She said she was going to ask you guys where Sam was.” Robby said as he walked up to the Cobras. He knew how dangerous that was since the whole Cobra Kai vs Miyagi-do thing.

“Your girlfriend is fighting your ex bro.” Hawk said as he pointed to where you were storming off leaving Sam all alone.

“Well-*bleep*”

[chadillacboseman]

Would you mind writing something for Hanzo using his powers to warm you up? (Smutty or fluffy I like how you write both 😍😍)

sdaljf;ljg MY PLEASURE.

Winter Chill

Pairing: Hanzo Hasashi xGN!Reader

Word Count: Less than 1k

Warnings: Nothing really, just reader in danger

A/N: Since there was no specification on movie vs game I went with the game I HOPE THAT'S OKAY ANON.

--

Working with the Lin Kuei was a pain in the ass for a mortal like yourself- it was like marching alongside snowmen in a walk-in freezer. And of course, Hanzo didn't feel the chill either, so it left you as the odd one out, jaw hammering like a set of novelty chattering teeth as you marched alongside the others.

You sighed as you layered clothes and searched for a parka that could accommodate your weapons. It took you a moment to notice that Hanzo was standing behind you, watching you search with mild amusement.

"Are you ready to go?" he asked, taking a step through the doorway.

You huffed and pulled on a fur-lined parka, pausing to grab your rifle and sling it over your shoulder.

"Something troubling you?" he rested a broad hand on your shoulder and stared into your eyes.

"I'm not keen on freezing my ass off, Hanzo," you snapped and the pyromancer chuckled, "I forget that you get cold."

Convenient enough for him.

Your group set out through the mountains, trudging through knee-high snow and blistering winds toward the stake-out location. You took post on a high, snow-capped ridge and pulled your hood over your head. Through your scope, you could track Hanzo and Kuai Liang as they crept through the pass toward the entry to the facility.

You smirked as you trained the crosshairs on Hanzo's rear- at least he was fun to look at from that distance.

The wind bit at your exposed cheeks and you shivered, praying the mission went quickly before you froze to the very core.

You heard a loud explosion and the night sky lit up like the fourth of July. You trained your sights on the entry and Hanzo and Kuai Liang came running, a trail of fire and debris in their wake.

Behind them, Netherrealm creatures bounded in packs, chasing the grandmasters like prey. You fixed the crosshairs on a large one armed with blades and took a shot, venting its head with ease. You saw Hanzo's dark eyes flick up to your perch for a moment and you swore you saw a smirk.

Cocky asshole. He knew you had him covered.

You stood, nursing your frigid limbs, and started the trek to the rendezvous, willing your quickly numbing legs to keep moving.

It felt like you were walking through tar.

You cursed the cryomancers and their frigid locale as worry suddenly gripped you- you were starting to sweat, and that was a death sentence in this cold. You started to panic in earnest as your vision grew dim- the others had no idea where you were right now, you were in a deadly situation.

You paused to catch your breath, reeling in the biting wind as you felt fear take hold of your mind.

Shit, you were going to pass out. And then you were going to freeze to death.

A torrent of fire erupted in your darkening vision and Hanzo burst forth, eyes scanning the mounds of cold powder. He spotted your figure against the snow and rushed to you, scooping you into his arms and cursing quietly under his breath.

He whispered your name and you jerked awake, "Stay with me-"

You felt heat erupt around you as Hanzo let out a cry of frustration and melted the surrounding snow with a blast of flame. He held you close, his warm body like a radiant sun as he sent another burst of fire to the surrounding area. You felt the prickling sensation of circulation returning to your limbs and you let out a choked sob.

Hanzo looked down at you and sighed, his dark eyes boring into yours. "I thought I was going to lose you-"

The pyromancer sent another blast of flame that lit up the night sky before moving a warm hand to your face and stroking your chilled skin gently.

You smiled up at him weakly and nuzzled your face into his chest. "Sorry, Hanzo."

He touched his forehead to yours gently and ran another touch down your face, "Don't be sorry. Next time, we'll take a mission somewhere warmer."

[music-of-dragons]

Here's part three!

Loose Key for organization:

● Summary ○ My thoughts

AGOT Dany III

● This chapter begins with Dany looking out over the Dothraki Sea with Jorah by her side, he is explaining the types of grass that grow. ~"Down in the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai, they say there are oceans of ghost grass, taller than a man on horseback with stalks as pale as milkglass. It murders all other grass and glows in the dark with the spirits of the damned. The Dothraki claim that someday ghost grass will cover the entire world, and then all life will end." That thought gave Dany the shivers.~

��� The description of the ghost grass and the Dothraki prophecy are very similar to that of the Others and the Long Night. Directly after this imagery Dany shivers, which is associated with being cold or frightened. I believe that the Stallion prophecy is the Dothraki version of Azor Ahai. 

● Dany is enjoying the beauty of the day when the rest of the Khalasar begin to approach, Viserys with them. Dany, slowly learning to embrace her own agency and power, tells Jorah to command the Khalasar to stop so that she could ride ahead and not hear Viserys's complaints.

 

● Dany reflects on her first days with the Khalasar and how tough they had been. Khal Drogo ignored her during sex and she would cry from the pain, she was racked with saddle sores and blistered hands. Dany decided that she would rather kill herself than continue on, until she had a dragon dream. Viserys is not in the dream this time, only her and the dragon. "It's scales were black as night, wet and slick with blood. Her blood, Dany sensed.~

○ Just as Dany's thighs were slick with blood in her first dragon dream, the dragon is now covered in her blood. This is more birth imagery! Babies are born covered in their mother's blood, so Dany will birth the dragons, and her blood/sacrifice will be needed for the ritual. Viserys disappearing from the first dream then not appearing in this dream is a sign that Viserys will have to be gone/die in order for Dany to become who she is meant to be and hatch the dragons. When the dragon breathes flame at her, she feels no pain. Her body is cleansed by the fire and it helps her feel stronger and more fierce, this bled into her reality.

● Dany noticeably changed after her dream, her handmaid even asked if she had gotten sick. ~"I was, she answered, standing over the dragon's eggs that Illyrio had given her when she wed. She touched one, the largest of the three, running her hand lightly over the shell. Black and scarlet, she thought, like the dragon in my dream."~ The egg felt warm to Dany, though she dismissed it. 

● Dany feels that her horse knows her moods and that they share a single mind, Irri may be teaching her Dothraki riding but the silver is her true teacher. 

○ This connection that Dany feels with her silver, I believe, has some magic involved. It may also be foreshadowing her warg-like connection with Drogon. Dany thinks to herself that she had never loved anything so much.

● Dany, still reflecting, thinks about how she began to appreciate the beauty of the world around her; her soreness after riding was welcomed, her nights with Drogo were more pleasurable, and every day she is eager to mount her silver and ride ahead.

○This is a direct result of her dragon dreams and coping mechanisms. She is slowly growing from a meek little girl to a strong young woman, she is handling the Dothraki lifestyle better than her "dragon" brother.

●Dany makes it to the bottom of the ridge and hears Viserys shrieking at Ser Jorah, so she plunges deeper into the grass. Dany feels a sudden urge to feel the soil between her toes because she feels happy and at peace in the grass. She dismounts and is removing her boots when Viserys is on her, rearing his horse, screaming. Viserys tells her to look at herself, dressed in Dothraki clothing and Viserys dressed in soiled city silks and ringmail. 

○ This difference between the two of them is important. Dany's ability to adapt to the culture around her is what allows her to survive, while Viserys separates himself from those he deems beneath him and it will eventually lead to his downfall. This is humility vs superiority at its finest. Dany is making the most of a situation her own brother placed her in, doing everything he commanded of her, yet he is enraged by her power as a Khaleesi. 

● Viserys makes a grab for Dany's chest and twists at her breasts but she pushes him away, this is the first time she has stuck up for herself, and she knows that Viserys will hurt her badly for it. Before Viserys can continue, Jhogo's whip coils around his neck and saves Dany from further harm. Despite all that he's done to her Dany refuses to have him harmed. She thinks to herself that he looks pitiful on the ground, sobbing and sucking in breath. ~He had always been a pitiful thing. Why had she never seen that before? There was a hollow place inside her where her fear had been.~

○ Dany is no longer taking Viserys's abuses lying down. She is finally coming to realize that Viserys was never truly a man to fear, his power over her was an illusion that he created by conditioning Dany with abuse and "waking the dragon". However, despite all this, Dany still loves her brother which will be demonstrated by her actions and thoughts later. 

○ Dany commands Jorah to take his horse, she has learned more of Dothraki ways and knew that taking his horse would shame him in the Khalasar. He would walk with the women and slaves instead of mounted. She literally gets him off his high horse! 

●Viserys commands Jorah to kill the Dothraki dogs and hurt Dany. He looks at her with her bare feet and oiled hair, then at Viserys in his soiled silks and ringmail, and decides ~"He shall walk, Khaleesi."~

● Dany and Jorah have an important conversation about Viserys and the Smallfolk. When she becomes afraid because of what she did to Viserys, he tells her Rhaegar was the last dragon and that Viserys was less than the shadow of a snake. The smallfolk don't care who sits the Iron Throne, they just want to be left in peace. Dany is shaken by his words, but she hears the truth in them. He even gets her to admit that Viserys would not be a good king. When asked about home, Dany envisions Westeros and Dragonstone, all with red doors. 

○That is what Dany desires most; a home with safety and comfort like the house Ser Willem raised her in. She believes that she will find that home in Westeros.

● She admits to Jorah that she knows Viserys would never take them home, even with an army. Later, Dany has a mini vision after seeing a dusty finger of light touch her eggs, a thousand droplets of scarlet flame, she blinks and they are gone.

○ This, again, is her subconscious leading her to the magic needed to hatch the eggs. Dany feels the eggs and they are warm, but she convinces herself they were warmed by the sun. She knows that the stone eggs shouldn't be alive with heat and is trying to rationalize it by continuously making excuses because she's not ready to hatch them, not just yet.

○ Irri hops in the bath with Dany, she has no problem bathing with her and is very close with her handmaids. She never treats them harshly even though they are slaves of the Khalasar.

○ In the next chapter, Dany is called "Moon of my Life'' by Drogo while she calls him "My Sun and Stars". The story that Doreah tells Dany while bathing consists of the moon wandering too close to the sun and cracking, pouring out dragons, then they drink the fire of the sun. I think this story is a hint that Dany, the moon, will hatch dragons herself, and they will be given life by Drogo, the sun. 

● Dany spends time with Doreah learning to pleasure Khal Drogo. She takes him beneath the stars for all to see ~For the Dothraki believed that all things of importance in a man's life must be done beneath the open sky.~ It is Dany's 14th nameday when Jhiqui tells her she is with child. ~"I know."~ Dany tells her.

○ Dany has finally completely adapted to the life of the Dothraki and is more comfortable, brave, and happy than she ever has been. She has agency and power so long as Drogo allows it, and her relationship with him has improved. She isn't suffering in the shadow of her brother any longer. 

Dany IV up next!

Art by Ted Nasmith

[istumpysk]

Favourite Jon vs. Daenerys DoD iOS14.5 Foreshadowing

First, mad respect and full recognition to everyone who found these over the years, because it sure as hell wasn’t me. Hopefully you understand it’s difficult for me to credit the original sleuths, as most of these seemingly appear everywhere now. If you feel like you deserve credit just shoot me a private message and I’ll rectify that.

I’ve also included some of my favourite metas that largely cover the passages. Enjoy!

Now. Dance of dragons, let’s gooo.

15. Enemies like snow

"We are an old people. Ancestors are important to us. Wed Hizdahr zo Loraq and make a son with him, a son whose father is the harpy, whose mother is the dragon. In him the prophecies shall be fulfilled, and your enemies will melt away like snow." – Daenerys IV, ADWD

If you are a fan of Daenerys Targaryen, um, I would turn back now.

14. A steel kiss

"Daenerys Targaryen has wed some Dothraki horselord. What of it? Shall we send her a wedding gift?"

The king frowned. "A knife, perhaps. A good sharp one, and a bold man to wield it." – Eddard II, AGOT

+.+

"Kiss her?" Ser Barristan repeated, aghast.

"A steel kiss," said Littlefinger.

Robert turned to face his Hand. "Well, there it is, Ned. You and Selmy stand alone on this matter. The only question that remains is, who can we find to kill her?" – Eddard VIII, AGOT

13. How do you suppose this queen will react?

Now, how do you suppose this queen will react when you turn up with your begging bowl in hand and say, 'Good morrow to you, Auntie. I am your nephew, Aegon, returned from the dead. I've been hiding on a poleboat all my life, but now I've washed the blue dye from my hair and I'd like a dragon, please … and oh, did I mention, my claim to the Iron Throne is stronger than your own?'" – Tyrion VI, ADWD

12. Sun’s Son and Mummer’s Dragon

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal."

I was reading about Quentyn…  @une-nuit-pour-se-souvenir​

11. Means war

 "What is this?" Skahaz demanded. "A bloody glove …"

"… means war," said the queen. – Daenerys III, ADWD

As they did their count, Jon peeled the glove off his left hand and touched the nearest haunch of venison. He could feel his fingers sticking, and when he pulled them back he lost a bit of skin. His fingertips were numb. What did you expect? – Jon IV, ADWD

ADWD: Daenerys vs Jon @ladyofasoiaf​

10. She’s a monster

"Reznak," Ser Barristan said quietly, "hold your tongue and open your eyes. Those are no sheep bones." No, Dany thought, those are the bones of a child. – Daenerys I, ADWD

+.+

The king can be harsh and unforgiving, aye, but a babe still on the breast? Only a monster would give a living child to the flames.  – Jon I, ADWD

+.+

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I. – Daenerys II, ADWD

9. A treason for love  

"Three?" She did not understand.

. . . three heads has the dragon . . . the ghost chorus yammered inside her skull with never a lip moving, never a breath stirring the still blue air. . . . mother of dragons . . . child of storm . . . The whispers became a swirling song. . . . three fires must you light . . . one for life and one for death and one to love . . . Her own heart was beating in unison to the one that floated before her, blue and corrupt . . . three mounts must you ride . . . one to bed and one to dread and one to love . . . The voices were growing louder, she realized, and it seemed her heart was slowing, and even her breath. . . . three treasons will you know . . . once for blood and once for gold and once for love . . . – Daenerys IV, ACOK

8. Shifting shadows

Sometimes she would close her eyes and dream of him, but it was never Jorah Mormont she dreamed of; her lover was always younger and more comely, though his face remained a shifting shadow. – Daenerys II, ASOS

Shifting shadow = treachery, betrayal @rose-of-red-lake​ + @kellyvela​

Wait a second. Hold up. Is that one even about Jon Snow? Because I have strong doubts. Daenerys Targaryen has been known to have an ominous dream or two about lovers, and one of those times was probably about Euron Greyjoy:

Beneath her coverlets she tossed and turned, dreaming that Hizdahr was kissing her … but his lips were blue and bruised, and when he thrust himself inside her, his manhood was cold as ice. She sat up with her hair disheveled and the bedclothes atangle. Her captain slept beside her, yet she was alone. – Daenerys VII, ADWD

As for the one above with the shifting shadows? I’ve come to believe it’s about him too. However, regardless of whether you think it’s about Euron or Jon, you might be out of your tree if you think it’s positive foreshadowing.

Read more about the textual evidence of Euron Greyjoy x Daenerys Targaryen here:

Storm is coming…. @shieldofrohan​

The Dragon Vs The Wolf: The Final Battle Part 1 @stormcloudrising​

Euron Greyjoy's apocalypse in the Game of Thrones books Alt Shift X

<3 <3 <3

7. Foul smells

A blue flower grew from a chink in a wall of ice, and filled the air with sweetness. . . . mother of dragons, bride of fire . . . – Daenerys IV, ACOK

+.+

Dany smiled. "Perhaps it's the camels you're smelling. The Qartheen themselves seem sweet enough to my nose."

"Sweet smells are sometimes used to cover foul ones." – Daenerys II, ACOK

Sweet blue flower on the wall = Death @ladyofasoiaf​

6. Sad and lonely, but no less hungry

She had made Hizdahr her king, taken him into her bed, opened the fighting pits for him, he had no reason to want her dead. Yet who else could it have been? Reznak, her perfumed seneschal? The Yunkai'i? The Sons of the Harpy? Off in the distance, a wolf howled. The sound made her feel sad and lonely, but no less hungry. – Daenerys X, ADWD

5. Bites all over her

Jon watched the riders go from atop the Wall—three parties, each of three men, each carrying a pair of ravens. From on high their garrons looked no larger than ants, and Jon could not tell one ranger from another. He knew them, though. Every name was graven on his heart. Eight good men, he thought, and one … well, we shall see. – Jon VI, ADWD

+.+

"Remember who you are, Daenerys," the stars whispered in a woman's voice. "The dragons know. Do you?" 

The next morning she woke stiff and sore and aching, with ants crawling on her arms and legs and face. When she realized what they were, she kicked aside the stalks of dry brown grass that had served as her bed and blanket and struggled to her feet. She had bites all over her, little red bumps, itchy and inflamed. Where did all the ants come from? Dany brushed them from her arms and legs and belly. She ran a hand across her stubbly scalp where her hair had burned away, and felt more ants on her head, and one crawling down the back of her neck. She knocked them off and crushed them under her bare feet. There were so many …  

It turned out that their anthill was on the other side of her wall. She wondered how the ants had managed to climb over it and find her. To them these tumbledown stones must loom as huge as the Wall of Westeros. The biggest wall in all the world, her brother Viserys used to say, as proud as if he'd built it himself. – Daenerys X, ADWD

Daenerys Targaryen, Martians, Eatable Ants and the Influence of The War of The Worlds on ASOIAF Part 1 @stormcloudrising​

4. Feed the wolves

In Westeros the dead of House Targaryen were given to the flames, but who would light her pyre here? My flesh will feed the wolves and carrion crows, she thought sadly, and worms will burrow through my womb. Her eyes went back to Dragonstone. It looked smaller. She could see smoke rising from its wind-carved summit, miles away. Drogon has returned from hunting. – Daenerys X, ADWD

The Wolf That Slew The Dragon @kellyvela​

3. All I taste is cold

The light of the half-moon turned Val's honey-blond hair a pale silver and left her cheeks as white as snow. She took a deep breath. "The air tastes sweet."

"My tongue is too numb to tell. All I can taste is cold." – Jon VIII, ADWD

+.+

"Your head's as wooden as your teeth," Hake told him. "There's no smell to cold."

There is, thought Jon, remembering the night in the Lord Commander's chambers. It smells like death. – Jon IV, ACOK

Val: A Subversion of BATB in Jon’s arc? @lostlittlesatellites​

2. Hissing, tongues of fire

That night she dreamt that she was Rhaegar, riding to the Trident. But she was mounted on a dragon, not a horse. When she saw the Usurper's rebel host across the river they were armored all in ice, but she bathed them in dragonfire and they melted away like dew and turned the Trident into a torrent. Some small part of her knew that she was dreaming, but another part exulted. This is how it was meant to be. The other was a nightmare, and I have only now awakened. – Daenerys III, ASOS

+.+

Burning shafts hissed upward, trailing tongues of fire. Scarecrow brothers tumbled down, black cloaks ablaze. "Snow," an eagle cried, as foemen scuttled up the ice like spiders. Jon was armored in black ice, but his blade burned red in his fist. As the dead men reached the top of the Wall he sent them down to die again. He slew a greybeard and a beardless boy, a giant, a gaunt man with filed teeth, a girl with thick red hair. Too late he recognized Ygritte. She was gone as quick as she'd appeared. – Jon XII, ADWD

Dragons, dragonslayers and weirwood arrows @trinuviel​

HONOURABLE MENTIONS (aka I numbered something above the cut, screwing up my ability to properly edit the numbers.)

Raiders and slavers from Valyria (credit to @astradrifting​ for the find)

He looked at the passing faces and the tales came back to him. The maester had told him the stories, and Old Nan had made them come alive. "That one is Jon Stark. When the sea raiders landed in the east, he drove them out and built the castle at White Harbor. – Bran VII, AGOT

+.+

Even before the coming of the Andals, the Wolf’s Den had been raised by King Jon Stark, built to defend the mouth of the White Knife against raiders and slavers from across the narrow sea (some scholars suggest these were early Andal incursions, whilst others argue they were the forebears of the men from Ib, or even slavers out of Valyria and Volantis). - TWoIaF

The white wolf ran from the moon towards the sun / What do I want? The sun (credit to @agentrouka-blog​ for the find)

"Snow," the moon insisted.

The white wolf ran from it, racing toward the cave of night where the sun had hidden, his breath frosting in the air. On starless nights the great cliff was as black as stone, a darkness towering high above the wide world, but when the moon came out it shimmered pale and icy as a frozen stream. The wolf's pelt was thick and shaggy, but when the wind blew along the ice no fur could keep the chill out. On the other side the wind was colder still, the wolf sensed. That was where his brother was, the grey brother who smelled of summer. – Jon I, ADWD

+.+

Ygritte wanted me to be a wildling. Stannis wants me to be the Lord of Winterfell. But what do I want? The sun crept down the sky to dip behind the Wall where it curved through the western hills. Jon watched as that towering expanse of ice took on the reds and pinks of sunset. Would I sooner be hanged for a turncloak by Lord Janos, or forswear my vows, marry Val, and become the Lord of Winterfell? It seemed an easy choice when he thought of it in those terms . . . though if Ygritte had still been alive, it might have been even easier. Val was a stranger to him. She was not hard on the eyes, certainly, and she had been sister to Mance Rayder's queen, but still . . . – Jon XII, ASOS

Princess Daenerys and The Shivers

+.+

+.+

+.+

*DRUM ROLL PLEASE*

1. Fire is a cruel way to die

The king can be harsh and unforgiving, aye, but a babe still on the breast? Only a monster would give a living child to the flames. – Jon I, ADWD

+.+

Gilly lowered her hand. An inch. Another. When the flame licked her flesh, she snatched her hand back and began to sob. “Fire is a cruel way to die. Dalla died to give this child life, but you have nourished him, cherished him. You saved your own boy from the ice. Now save hers from the fire.” – Jon II, ADWD

+.+

Jon Snow had seen enough. “Now,” he said.

…

One arrow took Mance Rayder in the chest, one in the gut, one in the throat. The fourth struck one of the cage’s wooden bars, and quivered for an instant before catching fire. A woman’s sobs echoed off the Wall as the wildling king slid bonelessly to the floor of his cage, wreathed in fire. “And now his Watch is done,” Jon murmured softly. – Jon III, ADWD

+.+

Axell Florent’s brother had been burned by Melisandre, Maester Aemon had informed him, yet Ser Axell had done little and less to stop it. What sort of man can stand by idly and watch his own brother being burned alive? – Jon IX, ADWD

+.+

Melisandre’s face darkened. “That creature is dangerous. Many a time I have glimpsed him in my flames. Sometimes there are skulls about him, and his lips are red with blood.” A wonder you haven’t had the poor man burned. All it would take was a word in the queen's ear, and Patchface would feed her fires. – Jon X, ADWD

+.+

She is not my queen, he might have said. If truth be told, the day of her departure cannot come too fast for me. And if the gods are good, she will take Melisandre with her. – Jon XI, ADWD

Isn’t that fun? What a great time I just had.

Don’t you just love how all Jon and Daenerys foreshadowing is dark and foreboding? All of it... just terrible. There isn’t a single hint of sexual angst, tragic love, conflicted heart, broken devotion - it’s just all bad.

God that’s funny.