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mydearlybeloathed · 8 months ago

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𝐈𝐒 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄, 𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐄?

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the grace of the sword and the stage come together as the strawhats' swordsman and dancer fall in love.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: roronoa zoro x fem!dancer!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 3k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: fluff, reader is a ballerina, mention of alcohol, abusive employer near the beginning, not beta read

𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: la seine

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

the first time he saw you, he was in denial of the fact that he was, once again, lost.

it wasn't his fault! nami ditched him in favor of viewing the rows and rows of stalls featuring all sorts of glittering jewels, and before he knew it, zoro was at a loss on where he was.

choosing to wander till he found something familiar to guide him back to the ship, he was drawn to the sweet sound of laughter, clinking glass, and soft music.

without looking up to read the sign hanging over the boisterously decorated building taking up most of the left side of the street. it was probably just a bar anyway.

so he slipped inside, meaning to find a place at a counter to order a drink, when he found himself running into a podium and faced with a woman in a suit, her expression sultry as she said, "here for the last show?"

Zoro blinked down at her, lips parting. He wasn't about to let her make him look stupid, so he settled her with a stern glower and nodded.

"You're just in luck," she purred. "We've got one last seat, and you're just in time to see our principal lady."

"Right," he nodded once more and, after casting a look at the enticing exit, turned back to the hostess. "You've got booze?"

Her smile glimmered. "Just ask and ye shall receive. We have an assortment of liquors here at Le Palais de Cerise!"

Zoro followed her down a dim hallway into an even dimmer grand room. It looked something like an opera hall, with tiered rows of half-moon booths each facing a large stage.

Blue lighting shined from lanterns hung on the ceiling, casting the place in an eerie yet mystifying glow. All around the booths and tables were occupied by guests dressed much finer than Zoro, sipping on glasses of fine wine and nibbling on hors d'oeuvres.

The hostess brandished an arm as she showed him to a smaller booth at the very edge of the third tier away from the stage, closer to the center aisle running between two halves of the room. It was a pretty good view, nearly right in the middle of the stage.

"Thanks," he muttered distractedly, slipping into the booth and slouching instantly. "Get me a bottle of sake, yeah?"

The woman grinned widely before turning her back, her smile falling into a sneer. Now alone, Zoro got comfortable on the cushion of the seat, deciding this place wasn't too bad of a napping spot, when the lights brightening the stage faded to black.

Violins and flutes started to sing from a pit around the edge of the stage, coming alive as all conversation died out. Zoro stiffened, shifting to sit up right as his hands fell to his swords at his side.

"I hear it's her last show," sighed a young man to his friend at the neighboring booth. "We're insanely lucky."

Zoro's eyes adjusted to the dark just as a spotlight shone down on the parting ruby curtain, and out came a dozen girls dressed as the petals of a flower, twirling on the very tips of their toes. Instantly, Zoro was fascinated.

How they hopped around and danced like that without breaking something, he hadn't a clue. Zoro was on the edge of his seat before he really realized it, and barely made a sound of acknowledgement when a bottle of sake was placed beside him.

He came back to reality long enough to take a long drink, yet when his gaze returned to the stage, the music tingled to a suspenseful, drawn out theme. The flower petals stood in two diagonals forming a V and arced their arms around to present whatever was approaching.

From the left of the stage rushed a woman donned in a dress of dark red, the skirt branching out at her waist and barely dipping with each of her movements. Her bodice was lined with black and gold lace leading up to a sweetheart neckline. Not a hair on her head was out of place. Her every movement had a purpose.

The ballerina was perfection on earth. Zoro nearly wanted to remove his gaze from her, lest he taint this apparent angel.

She nearly floated with how she glided her feet, coming to a graceful halt at center stage, at the peak of the petals' V, and presented her arms as if to say here I am!

All around the audience applauded her for her presence alone, and Zoro found himself lazily meeting his palms together as well.

The music swelled as she extended her arms to cross and pointed out a toe, hopping forward as her arms gradually lifted over her head, before she leapt into an arabesque and pattered across the stage.

Behind her, the V of petals crossed the stage to the opposite side they were on, halting in unison on a tall and extended pique.

The main ballerina continued to glide this way and that, commanding the entire room, no fault in her every twirl, leap, and scurry.

Throughout the entire performance, Zoro watched dutifully, his attention never once departing from you.

And upon the stage, with the blinding lights casting the audience in a gray shadow, you swore you felt something tangibly heavy in the way they looked at you now, though you couldn't place a finger on why.

You only knew that when the music climaxed and faltered, and the curtain lowered on you and your friends, that as the lights grew dim, you caught sight of someone leaving the theater, a set of swords glinting at their side.

It was no surprise when flowers upon flowers arrived at your little room near the back of the theater.

You were known across the city and ones around it for your grace. People came from every which way to watch you dance the same dances, on the same stage, with the same people night after night after night.

You were bored, to say the least.

For ages, you ached for the thrill dance had once brought you. To not know every move by heart, to have something to learn rather than perform out of mere memory.

You missed what it was like to make mistakes, because they made success all the more sweet.

It was why that night was your last performance at Le Palais de Cerise. The next day, you would set sail with a family of merchants you'd met the week prior, and visit lands you'd only ever dreamed of.

Hopefully, some day, you'd find the thrill once again.

But there was Madame Cerise to think of, the owner of the theater hall, and she was not so ready to let her prized ballerina slip away.

"It would be a shame," she said to her brutish son, "if our dear angel was robbed of all her money. How would she pay for escape then?"

Zoro wasn't nearly as drunk as he'd like to be, but he didn't really need the alcohol anymore. Not when all he could think of was how the hell those dancers didn't break their toes.

Looking left and right, ensuring no one was out on the streets with him, he attempted to balance himself on the very tip of his boots, immediately teetering forward and nearly twisting his ankle.

He spit out a curse, pushing back his shoulders only to slump forward again and trudge down the street. The streetlamps flickered here and there, the night breeze chilling his bare arms.

"Stop! Stop, please!"

Zoro whipped around, eyes peeled, and zeroed in on the alleyway ahead to his right. The pleading voice echoed as three burly shadows tripped and stumbled out onto the street, sprinting away.

He was halfway into a pursuit when he caught the tell-tale sound of crying. Faltering to a stop just outside the mouth of the alley, he made out the silhouette of someone in a crumbled heap on the ground.

You glanced up from cradling your skinned and burning palms to your chest, hiccuping. Finding yet another shadow lurking there, you bit back, "I've got nothing left! Run back to Cerise, you--you mutt!"

Well, that didn't exactly make him want to help you, but then, in the dim lamplight, he saw through your tear stained face and found the ballerina who'd enchanted him an hour before.

He didn't know what to do, feeling odd with an unsheathed sword in hand as you glared at him, awaiting his next move. Zoro cleared his throat. "You... danced nice."

You eyes flickered all over him before you broke into yet another round of sobs, somehow managing through it, "Yeah, and I'll be dancing nicely till I'm old and wrinkly and dead. Ugh!"

Clawing at your arms, mumbling more to yourself, "I'm such a fool... Why did I think she'd let me go..."

You were too caught up in picturing the rest of your mundane life to realize Zoro was approaching you, only jerking away from him when he knelt in front of you.

His sword was back in its scabbard, and despite the scar over his eye, the other one was nearly soft. But there was nothing soft in the way he asked you, "Who won't let you go?"

A long story short, le palais de cerise went up in flames a few days after, and you found yourself sailing away not only with the promise of adventure, but with the promise of friendship.

and the hint of something more, judging from how zoro acted around you.

It was comical, really. Once, the swordsman had been a wall of stoicism, never to be toppled. And now this woman with all the grace and poise of a swan comes in, and he’s toppled like a feather in the wind.

Not that the others would complain; he wasn’t so grouchy when you were near, the tautness in his brows softening at the very sound of your voice.

Nami and Robin often teased you about Zoro's little crush, and you never paid them any mind—you’d think twice before admitting to having a soft spot for your crewmate.

Still, it was obvious something was there.

He always tended to be near you whenever he wasn’t training or asleep. Whether you were sitting around reading, or listening to music on a gramophone Nami may or may not have stolen for you, Zoro was likely to be there, laying at your side, content with the company.

You never failed to save him a seat at breakfast, waiting even when the others got up to start working, knowing Zoro would walk in later than the rest all grumpy and tired.

Zoro stood at your side like some kind of guard dog, especially when outside the safety of the ship.

It wasn’t that he thought you couldn’t look after yourself! It’s just, well, you can’t exactly fight.

“So teach me,” you snapped back, not appreciating being treated like glass.

Zoro sputtered, unsure if you’re serious, and promptly sets down his fork in favor of matching your stare from across the table.

Before he could say anything, Robin stood to put up her plate and said, “That’s a good idea. Everyone should be able to defend themself.”

You could have kissed her, grinning as she winked and wandered off.

��You don’t need to,” Zoro blurted.

Nami smirked as she took a sip of her water. “Why’s that?”

His reply was instant. “I’ll protect you.”

Your cheeks warmed. “That’s sweet, but you won’t always be there.”

He glared at the prospect, as if to say watch me.

“If Marimo refuses, I would love to teach you, darling—”

“Shut up!” Zoro faced you, narrowing his eyes at the little smile you gave him. “We start tomorrow.”

Snickering, you lurched forth and pressed a swift kiss to his cheek, jumping to your feet before he could even register what had happened. “Thanks, Zo!”

Whilst you made a hasty exit and Sanji started to yell at Zoro, Nami couldn’t help her excited gape as she locked eyes with Robin. The dark haired woman grinned cheekily, watching Zoro stare blankly into space.

“She’s got him wrapped around her finger.”

Zoro did not go easy on you, and you didn’t exactly mind too much.

You wanted to get better. That was the only reason you were out here, in the blazing sun, watching Zoro’s chest as it heaved underneath his thin shirt.

Okay, maybe not the only reason. But the main one was definitely learning to protect yourself!

You learned quickly, sometimes even beating Zoro out on the deck in the morning, purely excited at the chance to train with him.

He had wandered into the girls room to get you, only to be confused when all he found was Nami yelling at him to get out.

And when he saw you practicing your form with the sword he’d bought with you on that last island.

Zoro knew you were graceful. He’d seen it the first time he ever saw you. Grace was a word so wrapped up in his view of you.

But fuck—you were anyting but graceful with a sword.

Each of your movements were stiff and rigid and sharp. How hadn’t he noticed it before?

So he came up and, without really thinking, reached around to grab your wrist, taking your elbow in his other hand, caging you between his arms.

You’re not quite sure how you didn’t go into cardiac arrest.

Only after your eyes met did Zoro realize the predicament he’d gotten himself into—and promptly sprang away from you, complimenting how fast you caught on and beelining back into the ship.

You weren’t sure you could take much more of that. Not before you acted on one of your many urges to kiss him senseless.

Luckily, you didn’t have to wait much longer.

So long of the crew’s teasing, slight grazes of the hand, and longing stares all led up to one night aboard the ship, lost in the music and sea breeze.

Zoro had been trying to take another sip of his drink for a while now, but each time he brought his glass to his lips, his eyes were dragged back to you, and Zoro’s breath hitched as he lowered his hand once more.

You were effervescent, your smile never wavering as you twirled and stomped around to the beat of the melody strumming from Brook’s guitar. You had caught Usopp in a waltz now, dragging him with you as he stumbled to keep up. A laugh bubbled up and out of you, and Zoro’s chest seized.

Nami rolled her eyes, growing tired of watching Zoro be so hopelessly infatuated. “Would you give it up? Do us all a favor and just tell her already.”

The swordsman barely cast her a glance, finally managing to get some sake down his throat to sooth the anxiety welling in his chest. “No clue what you’re on about.”

“You’re impossible,” she scoffed, standing while setting a hand on his shoulder. “And just plain sad.” Nami had skipped off to take your hand before Zoro could snap back at her, and he watched from his seat as Nami spun you around, dragging another chuckle out of you.

Sighing, Zoro lowered his gaze and settled on remaining seated the whole night, allowing you to have your fun without dampening it with his useless conversations.

A figure plopped into Nami’s abandoned seat, and he was prepared for another tease, when your voice loftily inquired, “Zoro, you’ve been sad all night.”

Instantly, his head lifted to look at you and your slight smile. Your chest heaved up and down, still exhausted from dancing circles around the deck. He set his glass down, shifting his knees to face yours. “I’m fine. You tired?”

Your huffed sigh was answer enough, pulling a scant grin out of him. Your face lit up at the sight, and your eyes took a slightly warmer tone. “I know your answer already, but do you wanna dance?”

He nearly said what you expected—no—before it sank in that you had expected it. For him to deny you of something you wanted. Zoro’s eyes flickered all over your pretty face, his heart beating fast, and he nodded, much to your surprise.

“Really?” You tried to hold back your smile. “I mean, you don’t have to—”

“I do.”

You nearly squealed right then and there, settling for beaming at him whilst you scooped up his hand and pulled him to his feet. Your smile was coy and his was stifled, but everyone could see it. You took both his hands in yours and leaned back, spinning the both of you around.

From somewhere nearby, Sanji was scoffing and Usopp was whistling, but Zoro hardly even heard the music anymore. All he was conscious of was you and your snickers, of how your touch ignited his skin, of his stumbling feet, of how you drew him closer with a slight tug on his hand and wrung your arms around his neck.

Brook, as if on cue, began to strum a softer song, something akin to a slow dance. It drew a grin on your face, your eyes fluttering closed. Zoro’s heart jumped and his right foot crushed yours. He apologized swiftly as you winced, somehow still giggling at him. Angel, he thought.

Zoro couldn’t breathe. Not when you looked at him like that. His hands froze at his sides before they inched closer to you, hovering over your sides. Your eyes were shut, and he admired you unabashedly, leaning forward till his nose brushed your own, jerking you from your reverie to find him a breath away.

His eyes widened after locking with yours, sputtering another apology as he attempted to remove himself from your vicinity, cursing himself. Your hands intertwined around his neck, holding him in place as all sense of caution fled your body. One last look into your eyes had Zoro lurching forward, catching your lips and relishing in the feeling of your thumb grazing his cheek.

How an angel like you could hold a demon like him so lovingly, he wasn't sure. Zoro vowed to spend his life trying to find out, remaining at your side dutifully till the end of his days. You certainly had no objections, doing your best every day to convince him he indeed deserved your love.

The others never let you hear the end of it. Every “about time” made you that much closer to smacking someone upside the head.

After your feelings were revealed, not much changed. The dynamic was still there, with the added physical intimacy when far from the prying eyes of the others, of course.

Zoro liked to lay his head on your legs while you read, and he’d never say it out loud, but he loved it when you carded your hands lazily through his hair. He didn't exactly need to tell you though; his contented sighs and following snores were enough.

He’s still not much of a dancer, and you respect when he’s just too tired to entertain your twirling and whirling. But sometimes, on days where he’s been up so long he starts to feel energized, he’ll take your hand and drag you onto the floor of whatever bar he’d brought you to.

He's terrible, finding no rhythm no matter how hard he tries, and he settles for simply swaying along with you.

(You're in no place to tease him for it; you're just as out of place with a sword in hand).

Funny how you both held such grace in your separate fields of passion, yet lost it all the moment you try the other's craft.

Zoro still short-circuited every time your lips brushed his cheek, even if it became a habit of yours whenever leaving his side.

Princess. Treatment (Or as much as he can give).

He’ll bully you if you start complaining that your feet hurt, but he’ll let you cling to his back like a koala all the way back to ship while doing it.

Whilst walking around whatever city the crew was stopped at, he’ll have one arm around you at all times, really only letting you go when you weasel out of his arms to go listen to the little band playing music on the street corner.

(He stands guard at the front of the crowd, eyes peeled whilst you distract the watchers long enough for Nami to pickpocket each and every one of them. And when he’s inevitably so caught up in watching you, someone notices Nami slinking off with their wallet. The three of you race through the street and around a corner, laughing till your sides ache).

Zoro will help you destroy all your dead pointe shoes from your days on Cerise’s stage, having no need for them on the sea, slamming the shoes by the ribbons against the deck of the ship till Usopp yells at you for leaving scratches on the deck.

He has a little too much fun with it, and you’re no different, feeling free of all bitterness and anger with each shoe that you snap in two. The others are only slightly concerned about the violence of it all, leaving the pair of you alone when you and Zoro melt into laughter like children.

You try to teach him to waltz one day, because he was hopeless on the dance floor with two left feet. When he tried to escape it, you simply replied, “I want to dance with you… and keep my toes too.” “Hey!”

An hour must have passed, and Zoro still couldn’t process exactly what he was supposed to do, when he was supposed to. He narrowly missed your toe again by stepping forward when he was meant to step back.

Zoro grunted, dropping his arms from your waist and putting a wide berth between you. “Forget it.”

Grinning softly, you took his chin between your thumb and finger, catching his frustrated gaze that melted once it met with yours. “It’s fine. You’ll get it eventually.”

He scoffed as if to say yeah right, and you took that personally. Raising a brow, you lowered your gaze to your feet, then to Zoro’s, before a grin tugged at your lips. “I know! Here.”

You hooked your arms around his neck, getting up close and personal as you gently stepped onto his shoes. Zoro tried to remain stoic, but it all fell through when you brushed your nose against his and dragged a little chuckle out of him.

“What’re you doing?” he asked fondly.

“Dancing,” you laughed. “This way, you can’t step on my feet.”

“But now you’re stepping on mine.”

“Hush. Just—spin around. I dunno.”

His hands settled on your hips, his eyes rolling to the side despite the light blush on his cheeks giving him away. Zoro grinned slyly and wrapped his arms around you, tottering from one foot to the next in a swift whirl. You squealed his name into his neck as he lifted you up, spinning the both of you around and around till you could barely breathe, you were laughing so hard.

Your feet touched the floor as Zoro’s sight got too dizzy, his deep laughter rumbling in his chest as he leaned into you for balance. You gripped his shoulders so he wouldn’t take you down with him, running your hand up the back of his neck to card through his hair.

He pulled back, smiling dazedly, and you shook your head at him. “You know that’s not what I meant.”

“Eh,” he said, ducking to hover his lips over yours. “I think I’m getting good at this dancin’ thing.”

Your scoff was muffled against his kiss, deep and slow. He grinned against your mouth, taking the first step forward to lead you back to his bed. The door to the boy‘s cabin swung open, instantly followed by a sharp scoff.

You broke away from Zoro to find Sanji standing in the doorway, his eyes narrowed at Zoro’s back. “Whore,” he spat, his eyes softening on you. “Not you, my dear.”

“Thanks for the clarification,” you said with a roll of your eyes, watching as Zoro’s good mood flew out the window as he glared daggers into the cook. “Welp, dance class is over.”

They were arguing before you ever left the room, their tones escalating surprisingly fast. “Bye, boys!”

There was a lull in the shouting before the sound of Zoro lumbering down the hall (did he just run into the doorframe?) echoed after you. “Hey, angel, wait!”

You turned, giggling as your graceless boyfriend stumbled to a stop before you, one arm resting on the wall beside you to steady himself. He too started to smile after catching the soft one on your lips, his other arms reaching to pull you close by your hip.

"I'll practice," he promised softly, his nose gently brushing your own.

"Oh?"

"Mhmm. I'll sweep you off your feet once and for all then."

He kissed you then, softly and full of intention, so you didn't bother to say Oh, but you already have.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s

#zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro #zoro x reader #zoro roronoa x reader #opla zoro x reader #opla!zoro x reader #x reader #reader insert #zoro fluff

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ol-jericho-styx · 5 months ago

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*Jericho wakes up to the sounds of piano music filtering into his ears. He stands up his whole body aching. He looks between iron bars to see a familiar lady in a green silken dress. She stops playing once she sees that her 'guest' is awake.*

"Well, took you long enough! Spent all day waiting for that sleep spell to wear off.."

*The woman had a similar Yona drawl to the scarecrows. As soon as the music stopped, it was like Jerichos mind cleared and could finally take in his surroundings...*

*he was in a cell with iron bars that had runes chiseled into them. The grand piano continued to look out of place in this creepy underground bunker. Jericho has no sickle and worst of all, no banjo to defend himself...*

*The Lady in front of him was beautiful. She had long black hair with curls that perfectly framed her freckles face. Her silken emerald dress had ruffles and went down to her mid thigh*

"Um uh, hello ma'am... Mind telling me why I'm in this cage? I don't do too well in tight spaces..."

*She laughed, light and airy*

"Why, you're my newest attraction, of course!"

*Jericho tilts his head*

"attraction?"

"Oh, you see I run a bit of a freak show- Lady Luck's exhibition, I of course, being Lady Luck"

*The woman- apparently Lady Luck- does a little showman's bow*

"And I was hearing whispers about a singing scarecrow walking around, and I just knew I had to have it. Imagine what people would pay to see that!"

*She grins, clearly imagining the lines and the coin she's about to get. Jericho nervously fiddles with his hands*

"Well, I'd love to stay and be part of your show but unfortunately I gotta get back home-"

*She cuts him off as she laughs again. It felt meaner this time*

"Don't be ridiculous, freak! You ain't leaving!"

*Jericho can now see a sort of manic look in her eye. But still, maybe if he just kindly explains-*

"No, see I gotta cause I'm getting married soon, see, and-*

Lady Luck is suddenly very close to the bars, voice sickly sweet.

"I said you ain't leaving, freak. So no more arguing, got that?"

*Jericho backs up against the wall, suddenly very afraid of this lady. Not trusting his voice, he nods. The Lady smiles, content*

"Good, now here-"

*She throws a banjo into the cell. It's paint was chipped and clearly not in tune*

"Get practicing, you gotta show tomorrow!"

*Lady Luck leaves, and Jericho is all alone in a cell with a banjo and no way out.*

#goon at noon asks #edge of midnight #legends of avantris #soliloquy #lady luck arc

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jaune-submissive-and-breedable · 2 months ago

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How about some white knight

Weiss inherited her family company and needs a good secretary. Her old classmate Jaune is looking for a job so why not hire him. On his first day Weiss gives him his new uniform, a speedo and collar and nothing else. At first it was great but she might have to hire another secretary to actually get some work done considering how much time she waists toying with the blonde boy.

Hope you like it, and good luck with the new blog.

Being the secretary to Weiss Schnee wa sa task not many were qualified or able to perform. While tending to the company need, you also had to cater to her own well. Something her current one, Jaune arc, learned on during his duration.

Day 1:

Jaune stared at himself in the mirror withing Weiss's office, confusion and uncertainty evident on his face.

"Umm, Weiss, are you sure this is a standard issue SDC uniform?" He questioned

The uniform in question, a light blue speedo that tightly squeezed his groin, causing an ever-present bulge on the front, and a simple collar with a white bow tie.

The woman in question stiffled a snicker before composing herself. "Of course it is, jaune. All secretaries that came before you wore this outfit without any complants"

And obvious lie.

"But if you feel it's inappropriate..."

Jaune shook his head, putting the matter to rest. "No, it's fine. Just kinda tight is all."

He looked in the mirror once more, "Does this speedo make my butt look big?"

Weiss wiped her mouth of the stream of saliva that leaked from her mouth as she stared at the blonde.

"Yes, Perfectly so"

DAY 2:

"Jaune, could you come here, please?"

"What do you need Ms. Schnee?" He asked as he entered the office, a noticeable blush covering his face.

Weiss pointed to a stack of papers on the floor. "Do you mind picking those up for me. As you can see *motioning to the mess of papers on her desk* I'm a bit busy over here"

Jaune, seeing nothing wrong happily agreed, bending over to pick up the conveniently dropped behind the door, papers. Giving the heiress a clear view of his toned ass, the speedo wedging itself between his cheeks. A perversely satisfied grin spread across her face as he stood.

"Thank you, Jaune, that will be all for now" She said, discretly wiping away blood that trinkled from her nose.

DAY 5:

Weiss was on a video call with some conglomerates about a potential business opportunity in regards to the untapped dusk deposit on Menagerie. All the while, her face was red with sweat pouring down it.

"Are you alright, Ms. Schnee?" One asked

Weiss simply nodded, passing it off as the air conditioner being on the fritz. When in truth, Jaune was on his knees with his head locked in her groin by her creamy white thighs as he was ordered to eat Weiss out during her business calls. His long, flat tongue hitting just the right spots.

"God's you eat cunt so fucking good" she muttered, keeping sure to not alert the conglomerates to her secret activity. Her delicate hands grabbed hold of his blonde, pushing him into her core further.

"Keep eating my cunt like this and I'll give you a tasty reward~" She moaned

"Excuse me, Ms. Schnee?"

"I said this opportunity would be hard to ignore" She replied quickly, covering her words descretly.

" Of course it is! Those ani...."

Weiss zoned out of what they were saying as her climax was approaching fast. She squeezed her thighs tighter around Jaune's head, locking him in place as she came. Her clear lady like juices splatter against his face like a tsunami.

"Oh fuck.....good boy" she cooed, stroking his he like a dog. Turning back to the meeting like nothing happened. " Now as you were saying"

DAY 10:

"AAAAHHH WEEISSSS!!!" Jaune screamed, his hand gently gripping her snow white locks as she bobbed her head up and down his cock.

What started this was when he brought i her a cup of coffee after a stressful meeting. He offered her cream, but she wasn't interested in the kinda from a cow. Instead, pinning him against a wall as she inhaled his cock like her life depended on it, making him scream and moan in pleasure.

"WEISS! SLOW DOWN....I'M GONNA......" he warned.

The heiress ripped herself of his length, using one hand to stroke him to completion and the other holding her coffee under his tip.

"Do it." She commanded, "CUM for me.....Right now"

Jaune grunted on last time before letting loose.a torrent of pearl white seed. The volume of his ejaculated filling her mug, coating her hand, and staining the floor.

Once he shown signs of stopping, Weiss raise her cum covered coffee to her lips taking a lon yet dainty sip. Humming approvingly, as she licked her lips

"Hmm, good consistency, above average duration, but the taste could be improved on~"

Day 15:

"Is Jaune working overtime again?"

"Fraid so."

"Drat, I was hoping to invite him out for a drink. Geez, Ms. Schnee must be working him like a dog."

_______________________________________

"OH FUCK!!" Weiss cried as she felt jaune's warm life giving fluid fill her narrow crevice for the 4th time.

The two of them have been going at it since lunch hours, yet shown no clear signs of fatigue or the desire to stop. At least for Weiss, her secretary in only name was a different story. Jaune was panting like a dog, sweat pouring down his body, and his cock sore and sensitive from continuous use.

"Weiss, please.....let me rest......i......I can't keep going...:

She glared at him and yanked the collar she made him wear harshly, earn a yelp from the blonde.

"SILENCE! GOOD BOYS DO SPEAK TIL SPOKEN TO"

Day 20:

"And that concludes this interview, thank you for come, Ms. Smith" Weiss smiled at her new secretary.

The woman, a shy and nervous rabbit faunus, returned her smile and shook her hand.

" I want to thank you for this opportunity Ms. Schnee. But I do have a bit of a question"

Weiss raised an eyebrow

"What happened to the last secretary?"

Weiss smiled once more, rubbing the growing bump in her stomach.

"Let's just say he got promoted to personal assistant

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

Sorry it took so long. Also thanks for the support

#rwby #rwby smut #jaune arc #weiss schnee #white knight #rwby whiteknight

113 notes · View notes

mononijikayu · 6 months ago

Text

good luck, babe! — ieiri shoko.

Tears well up in your eyes as you recall that particular day. It was as though you were both bathed in sunlight, her brown eyes shimmering with happiness. But as you both confronted the reality of a future you could not share, tears poured from those beautiful eyes. There was only hurt—a hurt you had forced upon her. Her hands, strong yet gentle, had held yours with a desperate sorrow, promising a love that could not be confined by the world’s expectations, yet ultimately falling victim to them.

Genre: Hidden Inventory Arc to Pre-JJK 0, 2006 - 2015;

Warning/s: First Love, Emotional Turmoil, Breakup, Heartbreak, Angst, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Mature Themes, Cultural/Familial Expectations, Internal Conflict, Cultural Challenges, Mental and Emotional Stress, Angst with Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Romance, Love and Heartbreak, Healing, Growth, Reconciliation, WLW, Second Chances, Relationship Dynamics, Supportive Siblings, Breaking Traditions, Depiction of Implied Homophobia, Depiction of Comphet, Depiction of Smoking, Depiction of Alcohol Use, Mention of Divorce;

masterlist

listen: good luck babe by chappell roan

note: this is the au of let you break my heart again and magnetic. this is if gojo! sister lived and managed to not suffer from a curse. i think this happy ending is well deserved for the two of them. live long and prosper, shoko and gojo! sister!!! :']

2007

SHOKO THINKS IT’S FINE, THAT IT’S COOL. But as she takes another swing from lip and cigarette, to smoke and blow, she knows it's not fine, it's not cool. In the quiet confines of her office, Ieiri Shoko sat hunched over her desk, her usual composed demeanor replaced by a visible layer of distress. Papers lay scattered around, untouched, as her mind replayed the painful moment of your breakup over and over again. The clinical cleanliness of the room couldn't sterilize the heartache she felt. The memory of your words, the finality in your voice, pressed heavily on her, and yet, deep down, she understood the reasons but couldn't accept them.

Shoko had always known the weight of the expectations placed upon you as being Gojo Satoru's sister and a high-ranking lady of your clan. You had always lived in a world bounded by strict traditions and rigid rules—constraints that you, unlike Satoru, never rebelled against openly. Your compliance with these traditions was out of a sense of duty, perhaps even a desire to shield your family from scandal of Satoru’s dislike for tradition, and to maintain the facade of propriety expected of you.

It’s not like Shoko blames Satoru. He himself deals with the pressure of existing just by having his cursed technique. He’s stuck in a hard and a rock place with clan politics and just as much, loving Suguru and mourning his loss from his life — how he’s still protecting him even after all this time, There’s so much that the higher ups think they don’t like about him. You didn’t have to break up with Shoko about it. You can have a choice about it, as Satoru has. But you were too good, a goodie little two shoes. You felt like you had to make up for the mistakes, to correct yourself because the clan says so. And Shoko hates it, she hates that about you. But she hates how she can’t hate you. She hates how much she loves you.

For you, loving Shoko was a truth you buried deep under layers of obligation and appearances. Each stolen moment with her had felt like a breath of freedom, but also like stepping closer to the edge of a precipice. You knew the consequences of a life lived openly with her, how it would be seen as a defiance of your family’s values, a betrayal of the lineage you were born into. The love you felt for Shoko was real, potent, and transformative, but it was also a danger to the life you were conditioned to lead.

Shoko, with her sharp mind and gentle heart, had seen the struggle within you. She knew the love wasn’t one-sided; it was palpable, vibrant, and life-affirming. That was what made the break–up so excruciating. She didn’t feel like a fool for loving you, but she was a fool for hoping that love would overcome it all. She was hoping that love might be enough to inspire you to choose a different path. And somehow, with that hope, she just ended up disappointed.

The moment lingered between you, heavy and dense, the air thick with unsaid words and stifled emotions. Despite the pain that was evident in your eyes—a mixture of regret and sorrow—there was an undeniable firmness, a resolve that spoke volumes about the decision you had made. It was a painful choice, undeniably, but it came from a place deep within you, where truth outweighs comfort and where integrity demands sacrifices.

You stood there, your stance solid yet somber, reflecting the inner turmoil that had been a constant companion in the days leading up to this moment. The decision to end things hadn't come lightly. It was the culmination of countless sleepless nights, of endless internal debates, and of painful reflections on what it meant to truly love someone—not just in the joyful moments but also in letting go when the paths diverged too greatly.

As you spoke the words, your voice was steady but not without emotion. Each syllable seemed to carry a weight, each pause filled with the echoes of shared memories and dreams that would remain unfulfilled. "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do," you admitted, the honesty in your voice cutting through the tension. "But it's necessary—for both of us.”

“Does what I have to say matter in this?” Shoko asks, her voice shaking as she looks at you, her face the epitome of grief. The break–up hasn’t even happened. And yet, she just felt like the world fell apart. “How…why? At least tell me why?”

“I can’t do this, Shoko. It isn’t just about us,” you had said, your voice trembling despite the firmness of your words. “I have responsibilities, expectations... I cannot be truly yours without losing everything else.”

Shoko had tried to argue, her own heart breaking as she spoke. “But what about what you want? What about love? I thought you loved me.”

You felt tears prickle your eyes. “I do. I do love you.”

“Then why are you leaving me?”

Your answer had been a quiet, devastating whisper. “Sometimes, it's not enough to just love. I’m not good enough to be strong, Shoko. I….I’m sorry.”

She huffs the air as though she was choking on it. Shoko starts laughing like a mad woman, which only made you feel as though tears would never end. Shaking her head at you, you looked at her almost pleadingly, as though to say, ‘please, i love you. I’m sorry.’ It was cruel of you, Shoko thinks, how you could easily pull her heart strings with your tears. Oh she hates it. She hates how she loves you.

“Then, good luck babe.” She retorts back at you, as though she was cursing you. As if she was releasing all the pain in one tsunami wave. “Really, good luck. Good luck. Good luck.”

“Shoko—”

She shakes her head again, raising a hand to stop you. “Leave. Please. I don’t want you here.”

Now, alone, Shoko allowed herself to grieve not just for the relationship lost, but for you as well. She grieved for the person who had to hide their true self, who had to mask their desires and dreams in the shadow of duty. She grieved for herself, too, for the future she had allowed herself to imagine, however briefly.

In her solitude, Shoko couldn't help but feel abandoned, yet she couldn’t truly resent you for your choice. She understood all too well the cultural and familial shackles that bound you. This understanding didn’t alleviate her pain; it compounded it, knowing you were out there somewhere, continuing to deny the essential parts of yourself.

As the night deepened and the lights in her office flickered softly, Shoko realized this might be her own crossroads: could she move on, knowing you were still in the world, just out of reach, yet forever distant? Her heart still ached with love for you, a love she feared might never find its resolution in her lifetime.

The door to Shoko Ieiri's office swung open with a soft creak, and there stood Satoru Gojo, his usual carefree demeanor slightly muted as he stepped inside. His arrival was unannounced, as was his style, but the timing couldn't have been more intrusive. Shoko, still engulfed in her storm of emotions, looked up sharply, her face a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"Not now, Gojo," she snapped, her voice brittle with barely contained anger. "I'm really not in the mood for your jokes or whatever you're planning to pull."

Gojo seemed to understand easily. For the first time in his life, he closed the door quietly behind him, his usual grin replaced by a more serious expression. He hadn’t looked this serious since that day. But Shoko thinks it doesn’t suit him. He was meant to be a foolish little boy in a grown man’s body. He ignored her request for solitude and instead, walked over and sat down across from her, with his long legs criss–crossed and his bright blue eyes meeting hers with an unusually heavy gravity. Shoko can only surmise that infinity is closed.

"I'm not here to joke, Sho," He said gently as he looked at her. "I heard about what happened between you and my sister. It’s just….. I'm really sorry."

Shoko's demeanor faltered for a moment, the hardness in her doe-like eyes giving way to a more wounded vulnerability. She looked down at her desk, her fingers playing with a pen, her guard slowly coming down in the face of Gojo's sincerity—a rarity that she knew meant he was genuinely concerned. She’s tried not to think about it. It was hard to think about it. But now that he’d brought it up, all she could remember was your tear–stricken face as you tried to turn around and run away, sobbing as you left her all alone.

"Sorry doesn't change things, Gojo. It doesn’t fix anything," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion. “She still broke up with me. And now she’s damn…she’s left me, to uphold some bullshit lie about herself."

"I know," Gojo replied softly, sighing shortly after. Shoko thinks that Gojo understands best. After all, the love of his life left him too. And he doesn't know if he'll ever see him again. "Listen, she's hurting too. and I just..."

Shoko sighed heavily, allowing herself to meet his gaze. "I know she's hurting. But I’m hurting too, okay? She’s hurt me. She's keeping up with the lie she's been told, that loving me is going to be a taint on you and your family."

“I know. And it's not your fault. It’s none of your fault. It’s….” He lets a breath pass through his lips. “It’s just, she hasn’t seen it through yet.”

"Gojo, I just feel like a fool," She admitted, her voice a whisper of defeat. "I allowed myself to believe that things could be different, that love might be enough to overcome everything else. I love her so damn much, Gojo. I love her too much, I’m willing to go through this. But I should have known better."

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Hey, you're not a fool for believing in love and hoping it would work out" he said earnestly. "It's one of the few things worth being foolish for. And you’re not alone in hoping things can change. I think…I think she wishes things would change too.”

Shoko looked away for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier, but the hurt was still palpable. "It's like we're being punished for something that should be celebrated. Our love wasn't a rebellion, Gojo. It was just... love."

Gojo's eyes held a deep understanding, tinged with a hint of sadness. He knew too well the pain that came with having love tangled grievous prejudice. His response was a whisper, meant as much for himself as for Shoko. "The world can be cruel to those who dare to live authentically, who dare to defy what it deems normal."

Shoko's eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over. The intensity of her feelings, the struggle to maintain her composure, painted a vivid picture of the emotional toll the situation had exacted. "Why is it," she choked out, the words barely a breath, "that what feels so right to us, so fundamentally pure, is what they seek to destroy? Why must love come with such high costs?"

Gojo reached out, his touch tentative, not wanting to presume but needing to offer some comfort. His hand found her arm, a gentle reassurance that she was not alone. "Because, Sho," he said softly, "Fear drives people to oppression. They fear what they cannot understand, cannot control. And nothing is less controllable than genuine human emotions, genuine love. It threatens them. It’s that powerful.”

Shoko turned to face him now, her gaze fierce despite the tears that streaked her cheeks. "And what if she can't see that, Gojo? What if she's too caught up in the fear, too wary of the repercussions to take a stand with me?"

The question hung between them, heavy and suffocating. Gojo Satoru felt the weight of her despair, mirroring his own past hurts, reflecting the battles he had fought to keep love winning—some won, some lost, but all leaving scars. But he hoped that Shoko wouldn’t give up. That you wouldn’t give up. He’d at least be happy to know that both of you got the happy ending that Suguru and him would never find in this lifetime. He gives a small smile at her direction.

"Then, Shoko," Gojo said, his voice steady despite the turmoil he felt, "You fight enough for both of you until she can find the strength. You live your truth so boldly, so unapologetically, that it becomes a beacon for her... for anyone who’s lost in the shadows of their fears. You become the light that not only guides but also inspires."

"But what if that's not enough?" Shoko's voice broke on the words, a whisper of desperation lacing through. "What if my fight only drives her further away, into the safety of shadows, where I can't reach her?"

Gojo had no easy answers, no promises that the path they chose would lead to the outcomes they hoped for. "Then you love her from afar," he murmured, his own experiences lending pain to his words. "You love her, and you let her go, hoping that someday, the world you're fighting for—a world where love is celebrated in all its forms—will be the world she walks back into."

The silence that followed was filled with shared sorrow, a mutual recognition of the love and loss that had colored both their lives. Shoko nodded slowly, a quiet acceptance of the hard truths they'd laid bare. She wiped away her tears, straightening her shoulders as if physically bracing herself against the pain.

"Thank you, Gojo," she said finally, her voice firmer now, tempered in the fires of their conversation. "For understanding, for being here."

Gojo offered a small, sad smile. "Always, Sho. You’re almost like family — no, you’re family to me. No matter how dark it gets, you're not alone. Remember that."

As they parted ways, the resolve hardened in Shoko—a resolve not just to fight, but to endure, to hope, and to continue loving, no matter the cost. And in that resolve, she found a sliver of peace amid the turmoil.

As long as you’ll be waiting for her on the other side,

It would be worth it, being in all this pain and grief.

Shoko thinks about your smile, your kisses on her skin.

Maybe one day, she’ll see you in her arms again.

2013

YOU DON’T SLEEP VERY WELL. You fear that you’d sleep and see Shoko again. You fear that you’ll continue to be haunted. But you suppose, you already have too much that haunts you when it comes to Ieiri Shoko. Her judging eyes, the eyes you have so loved, piercing through over and over the lies behind your eyes — it hurts. It scares you. Because you had loved, still do love, her. And she continues to be your grief. A grief that perseveres in absolute devotion within the tenants of your truest heart.

In the quiet of the night, the world around you is silent and still, you find yourself once again caught in the grip of what-ifs and memories that refuse to fade. You turn slowly, your gaze falling upon the man beside you—your husband, chosen not by the whims of the heart but by the cold calculations of tradition. He breathes softly, peacefully unaware of the turmoil that keeps you awake, night after night.

He has been nothing but kind and considerate, a good man who respects the vows you both shared under the watchful eyes of the elders and your families. Satoru seems to like him enough, but your brother knows just as much as you that you wouldn’t love this man. And if you do, never truly with all your heart. Still, in these many years of marriage, he has upheld every promise he made to you, providing support, stability, and respect. Yet, as you watch him sleep, you feel a pang of guilt for the lack of love you feel, for the hollow space inside your heart that he has never been able to fill.

Your mind drifts, unbidden, to Ieiri Shoko—the love of your life, the blue spring of your eternal summers, your white nights in the winter mornings. It was her laughter echoing in your memories, her eyes bright with the promise of a life less ordinary. You remember the warmth of her touch, the way her presence seemed to make everything brighter, more real. You had loved her, truly and deeply, in a way that you had never managed to love him. She was everything that made life worth living. And you get reminded as you think about a memory.

The balcony was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, the fading sun casting long shadows that danced across the floor. Shoko stood against the railing, her silhouette outlined by the gentle light, a lit cigarette held casually between her fingers. As you entered the room, your gaze fixed on her, a subtle frown forming on your brow as you watched her with a mixture of concern and affection.

"Shoko, you know I hate that you smoke," you finally spoke up, your voice soft yet filled with genuine worry.

She turned to face you, her eyes meeting yours with a playful glint, a thin wisp of smoke curling upwards from her lips. Despite the seriousness of your words, her expression held a hint of amusement, as though she anticipated your next move. "And what, my dear, do you plan to do about it?" she replied, her tone teasing, a challenge in her voice.

Closing the distance between you, you reached out and gently took the cigarette from her hand, extinguishing it in the nearby ashtray with a simple flick of your wrist. The tension between you crackled in the air, charged with unspoken emotion and the weight of unspoken desires.

"I have a few ideas," you murmured, your voice low, filled with a mixture of determination and longing.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, capturing her lips with yours in a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent declaration of your feelings. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intensity of your shared passion. Shoko responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around your neck, pulling you closer as she melted into your embrace.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, the air heavy with the heady rush of desire. Shoko's eyes sparkled with surprise and delight, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I love this idea," she laughed, her voice husky from the kiss.

Your heart swelled with hope and affection, a warmth spreading through you at her words. "Maybe we can make it a regular treatment," you suggested, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

"Sounds like the perfect remedy," Shoko agreed, her smile infectious as she leaned in for another quick kiss. As she whispered against your lips, her words carried a promise of a future filled with love and possibility. "Who needs cigarettes when I have you?"

Sitting up in bed, you stifle a sob with the back of your hand. The weight of your choices presses down on you, a burden you’ve carried through the years, growing heavier with each passing day. You had chosen this life, chosen duty and tradition over the desires of your heart, and with each choice, a piece of you had withered, lost to the shadows of regret.

You look at your husband again, his face innocent in sleep, undeserving of the resentment that sometimes brews within you. You know this is not his fault—it is the result of decisions made by others, choices rooted in outdated customs and rigid family expectations. But knowing this does nothing to ease the longing in your heart, the yearning for a path not taken, for a life lived in the full color of love rather than the grayscale of obligation.

Quietly, you slip out of bed, moving to the window where moonlight spills into the room, casting long shadows across the floor. As you gaze out at the world bathed in a silvery glow, you wonder about the life you might have had with Shoko. Would it have been easier? Would the love you shared have been enough to overcome the challenges you would have faced together?

But these questions offer no comfort, only a deepening of the ache that sits permanently in your chest. In this life, you are a wife, a role defined by others, your identity shaped by expectations you never asked for. In your heart, you mourn the woman you could have been, the life you could have led.

As the night deepens, you stand alone, lost in your thoughts, the silence of the house echoing the emptiness you feel inside. The realization that regret has become your constant companion is bitter, and you know that come morning, you will wear your mask again, the façade of the contented wife. But in the darkness, you allow yourself to grieve, to mourn a love lost to time and tradition, a reminder of all that could have been.

As you wandered through the dimly lit streets, your footsteps unsteady and your vision blurred, the city seemed to mirror your inner turmoil. The night was quiet, too quiet, and every soft echo of distant traffic or the rare passersby felt like an intrusion into your private world of sorrow. The weight of your decisions, the weight of a life lived in the shadow of what could have been, pressed down on you with every step you took.

The cold air bit at your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of tears that streamed down your face, but it was a sobering reminder of the reality you were living. The whiskey had promised escape, a brief respite from your pain, but it had betrayed you, leaving you more exposed, more raw than before. The stark truth was unavoidable now: no amount of alcohol could fill the void left by Shoko, could smother the flames of what you still felt for her.

You paused under a streetlight, the light flickering above you as if struggling to maintain its own existence. You leaned against the cool metal of the lamppost, feeling as though it was the only thing keeping you upright. Thoughts of Shoko swirled in your head—her smile, the sound of her laughter, the way she looked at you with so much love and understanding. It hurt, remembering her like this, as though she was just out of reach, separated from you by more than just time and decisions, but by the very course of life you had chosen.

The voice in your head, her voice whispering, "I told you so," wasn't one of condemnation but of a heartbreaking foresight. She had known, perhaps even before you had allowed yourself to admit it, that the path you were choosing would lead to regret. Shoko had always seen the parts of you that you had tried to hide from the world, the parts that yearned for freedom and authenticity.

And now, standing alone under the flickering light, you allowed yourself to truly feel the magnitude of your loss. Not just Shoko, but the part of yourself that you had silenced for the sake of conformity, for the sake of a peace that now tasted bitter. You drive yourself mad at the memory of day after day of your youth together. You huffed against the cold night air as you thought about how lonely it has been, how truly upsetting it is that you chose wrong.

Eventually, you knew you had to move, had to keep walking back to the life waiting for you at home—a life that, tonight, felt like a prison. But with each step, a resolve began to form amidst the chaos of your emotions. This pain, this profound sorrow, could not be the end of your story. You couldn't allow your fears and the expectations of others to dictate the rest of your life. You owed it to yourself, and to the memory of what you and Shoko once shared, to find a way forward, to find happiness not just for your sake, but as a testament to the love that had once dared to challenge the world.

As you reached your door, a silent vow formed in your heart: you would find a way to live truly, to honor the love you still carried, and perhaps, one day, to heal. Tonight, you mourned. But tomorrow, you would begin to fight for a future where your heart no longer had to hide in the shadows.

You want to call Shoko tomorrow.

You want to hear her voice again.

You want to see her face again.

You want to love her better this time.

2014

IT WAS HARD TO HAVE A NEW START. After the tumultuous end of your marriage, returning to Tokyo felt both like a defeat and a fresh start. The ink barely dried on the divorce papers, you carried not just physical luggage but a heavy burden of emotional baggage. The dissolution of what was meant to be a lifelong commitment had left you feeling raw and exposed, but also strangely liberated, ready to reclaim the pieces of yourself that had been lost in the shadows of an unfulfilling union.

The Gojo clan, however, had its own views on your situation. Tradition and reputation were pillars of their standing in the jujutsu community, and your divorce was seen not just as a personal failure, but as a stain on the clan's honor. The elders' threats to expel you loomed large, casting a dark cloud over your return. But amidst the storm of disapproval and gossip, there was Satoru.

Satoru, with his unwavering loyalty and irreverent disdain for outdated conventions, stood by you like a beacon of support. When you voiced your fears about the elders' threats, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand and that confident smile that seemed capable of warding off any darkness.

The simplicity of Satoru's statement, "Happy together," carried with it a profound depth, echoing in the space between the two of you. It was a direct command, a plea, and a gentle piece of wisdom all at once. His eyes, usually so playful and mischievous, now bore the weight of genuine concern and a trace of personal regret, highlighting the seriousness of his intentions for you.

His words will always hit you with the force of a revelation. Satoru, despite his outward appearance of boundless confidence and joy, carried his own regrets—regrets about paths not taken, words not said, and choices made in the shadows of duty and expectation. His relationship with Suguru, whatever its depth and complications, had not led to the happiness that perhaps it could have, had circumstances been different.

In that moment, you understood that Satoru’s advice was not just about defying the elders or the clan. It was about seizing the chance for happiness that he, for all his power and freedom, felt he had missed. It was about living openly and without regrets, about choosing love over fear and societal expectations.

"Happy together," you repeated softly, the idea resonating deep within you. It was a simple concept, yet one that felt revolutionary given everything you had been through.

"Yes," Satoru confirmed, nodding emphatically. "You and Shoko have a chance to build something beautiful, something real. Don’t let fear or tradition stand in the way of that. Learn from our mistakes."

“Brother….” You whisper at your brother tenderly.

Seeing your hesitation, Satoru reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I know it's a lot to take in," he continued, his tone softening. "And I know you're worried about what fighting this battle might mean—not just for you, but for me as well. But you need to understand, I've been dealing with the clan's rigidness my whole life. I know how they think and how they operate."

He paused, ensuring he had your full attention. "What happened with Suguru... it taught me a lot. Life is too short, and the path of solitude and sacrifice for the wrong reasons—it's not worth it. I don't want you to look back one day, full of regrets, wishing you'd chosen differently."

The mention of Suguru brought a pang of sadness, a reminder of lost friendships and love that had once promised so much more. Satoru's voice was filled with a rare vulnerability as he shared these reflections, giving you a glimpse into the personal cost of his own experiences.

"And I don't want to see the clan's outdated prejudices destroy more lives, especially not the lives of people I care about," he added, his voice gaining strength. "You and Shoko have a chance at real happiness, a chance to live openly and love freely. That's what you should be fighting for, not the approval of some dusty old elders who cling to outdated traditions."

Your mind raced as you absorbed his words, the weight of your own fears battling with the burgeoning hope that Satoru's support ignited within you. It was daunting, the idea of standing up against the formidable structure of clan traditions and expectations. Yet, the thought of being with Shoko, of potentially creating a life filled with the kind of love and companionship you truly desired, offered a compelling counterpoint.

"Satoru, are you sure?" you finally asked, the concern clear in your voice. "Taking on the elders... it won’t be easy. They could retaliate."

Satoru smiled, a slight curve of his lips that carried both defiance and assurance. "Let them try," he said with a chuckle. "I’ve faced worse. And besides, it’s about time someone shook up the Gojo clan a bit. If not us, then who?"

His confidence was infectious, and despite the risks, you felt a surge of courage, bolstered by the support of someone who had become more than just a family member or a fellow sorcerer, but a true ally in your pursuit of happiness.

"Okay," you said, a newfound determination steadying your voice. "Let’s do this. For us, for Shoko, and for everyone else who’s ever been told they have to choose between love and tradition."

Satoru nodded, pleased. "That's the spirit. Now, go be happy. And remember, I've got your back."

With that assurance, you felt ready to face whatever challenges might come, knowing that whatever happened, you wouldn't be facing them alone. The path ahead was uncertain, possibly fraught with confrontation and challenges, but the promise of a life lived true to your heart made it a path worth taking.

As you walked through the familiar gates of Jujutsu High, your heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. The school grounds were bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows and bathing everything in a soft, forgiving light. It had been years since you last set foot here, years filled with longing and regret, but today you carried a new sense of purpose.

You scanned the area, looking for any sign of Shoko. As you approached the faculty parking lot, you saw her. She was just about to get into her car, her back to you, unaware of your presence. You paused for a moment, just watching her. Time had changed her, just as it had changed you. She seemed more confident, more assured in her movements, yet there was still that unmistakable grace about her that had first drawn you in.

"Shoko!" you called out, unable to keep the emotion from coloring your voice.

At the sound of her name, she froze. Slowly, she turned around, and when her eyes met yours, they widened in disbelief. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, as if she truly had seen a ghost.

You took a few tentative steps toward her, your heart in your throat. "Shoko, it’s me," you said softly, almost afraid that any louder voice might shatter the fragile moment.

Shoko blinked, as if to clear her vision, before a myriad of emotions played across her face—surprise, confusion, and then, a dawning joy. "I can't believe it's really you," she managed to say, her voice a whisper.

As you closed the remaining distance, Shoko's initial shock softened into a vulnerable hesitance. Her eyes, once brimming with an uncomplicated joy whenever she saw you, now held a guarded wariness—a shield forged from the years of pain and separation. Yet, despite the shield, there was an unmistakable flicker of the old affection, a tug at her heart that she seemed to fight.

"I—how long has it been?" Shoko asked, her voice shaking slightly, betraying the turmoil inside her.

"Too long," you replied earnestly, stopping just a breath away from her. You could feel the warmth of her, so close yet still so far, held at bay by the invisible walls she had built around herself.

Shoko swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the ground before forcing herself to meet your eyes again. "Why now? Why come back after all this time?" Her voice was a mix of hope and hurt, needing to understand your sudden reappearance, fearing the reopening of old wounds.

You reached out, your hand hovering in the air, hesitating before gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear—an intimate gesture that once would have been second nature. Now, it felt like a relearning of the language of her soul. "I realized something," you began, your voice thick with emotion.

She looks at your eyes, as though she was searching for life, for truth. “What was it?”

"I realized I've been living half a life without you. And no matter how hard I tried to move on, to forget, you were always there—in the back of my mind, in every quiet moment. I came back because I need to know if there's a chance, any chance at all, that we could be something again."

Shoko's breath hitched at your words, her defenses wavering as the earnestness in your voice called to her. "You left," she whispered, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "You left when I needed you most. How do I trust that you won’t do it again?"

The pain in her words stung, a harsh reminder of the consequences of your past choices. "I know I hurt you, more than I can ever make right," you admitted, your own voice cracking with regret. "But I'm here now, Shoko, and I’m not going anywhere. I want to make things right between us, no matter how long it takes. I'm not asking for immediate forgiveness or for everything to go back to how it was. I just want the chance to show you, every day, that I'm here for you."

Shoko looked at you, her eyes searching yours for the sincerity she so desperately needed to see. The conflict was palpable as she struggled between the safety of her guarded heart and the dangerous hope your return offered. Slowly, imperceptibly at first, she nodded, the smallest agreement, but enough to flood your heart with a tumult of relief and determination.

"Okay," she said, her voice barely a whisper, laden with cautious optimism. "We can try. Slowly."

Hearing those words, feeling the tentative acceptance in her tone, you knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. But as you stood there, under the fading light of the setting sun, with Shoko's tentative permission to re-enter her life, you felt ready to face those challenges. Whatever it took, however long it took, you were prepared to spend every day proving that the love that had once bound you together was worth fighting for—a second time around.

You searched her face, looking for signs of the love you once shared, hoping it wasn't too late. "I've missed you, Shoko. More than I can say. I've thought about you every day. About us. I left so much unsaid, so much undone..."

Shoko smiled, a gentle, forgiving smile that melted any remaining fears. "I've missed you too," she admitted. "It's been hard, but I always hoped... somehow, I always hoped you’d come back. That we’d get some happily ever after like those cheesy fairy tales, you know?”

“We can have that now,” You whisper to her in a soft tone, her eyes bearing against your own. “Our own happily ever after, like those cheesy fairy tales.”

“Then give it to me.” She laughs softly as you let your fingers trace her cheeks. “Give me that cheesy fairy tale. I’ve waited long enough for it.”

The sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow that enveloped you both, making the moment feel almost magical. "Can we start over?" you asked, heart pounding with hope. "Can we give us another chance?"

"Yes," Shoko answered without hesitation, her voice firm and sure. "Yes, we can start over. Whatever it takes, however long it takes. We're worth another chance. We’ve always been.”

You beamed at her, taking a breath as tears of joy poured. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, you idiot.” She retorts back, tears of joy equally pouring.

As you stood there, holding each other in the fading light, the years of separation seemed to melt away, replaced by the promise of a new beginning. You knew there would be challenges ahead, but with Shoko by your side, you felt like you could face anything. This was your second chance—a chance to make things right, a chance to build a future together, founded not just on love, but on understanding, forgiveness, and renewed commitment. And this time, you were determined to make it last.

“Good luck to us, babe.”

You blushed at her words.

You reached out for her hands.

“Good luck to us, babe.”

She smiles and leans in towards you.

A new chapter finally begins together.

It was like blue summer all over again.

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bethanydelleman · 4 months ago

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Anne was right to break the engagement with captain Wentworth; he had no money,he spends it as fast as he gains it, engaged in a dangerous profession, clearly reckless and overconfident, his success was based on luck and Anne was even thinking about his interest more than her own. Lady Russell is a snob but she was right to warn her and gave Anne facts that objectively make sense. Anne considered it and made her decision. Darcy, on the other hand, claimed to Bingley that after observing a girl, whom he barely knows, for one evening that she was not in love with him, Darcy told him before that he did not have any interest in anyone there, so anyone with common sense would at least wonder how would he know sometime so personnel. Dude did not even question him. Why? Because Darcy is always right. Anne listenned to Lady Russell because what she said made sense, Bingley did simply because he thinks that there's no need to doubt what Darcy says because it's Darcy. Bingley is a good, generous and charming man but sadly Austen neglected his arc; whenever or not he improved in his judgment is left to our imagination

Hello again. You seem to be throwing Charles Bingley in the same bin as Harriet Smith, but I don't think you should. Here:

There is a sliding scale of how much you should listen to your mentor, with Anne Elliot on the far left and Harriet Smith on the far right and Charles is in the middle. This scale also works if you consider how long and strong the friendship between the mentor and mentee has been (Anne for life, Charles for a while, Harriet for a hot second).

Because no, Charles had good reasons to listen to Darcy too, Darcy just happened to be wrong (and biased) about the love part. But Darcy is right that the Bennets are vulgar, right that the connection is below what Bingley could get, and right that he's doing nothing for his family by marrying Jane Bennet (No, Bingley didn't "marry up" as many people claim). Charles could do WAY BETTER, which is exactly what Lady Russell thinks about Anne, so Darcy was right in exactly the same way as Lady Russell and even wrong in the same way, because the decision did not make the other person happy.

Also, Bingley doesn't need an arc because we know he doesn't blindly listen to Darcy, Charles even mocks Darcy at one point, observe:

“By all means,” cried Bingley; “let us hear all the particulars, not forgetting their comparative height and size, for that will have more weight in the argument, Miss Bennet, than you may be aware of. I assure you that if Darcy were not such a great tall fellow, in comparison with myself, I should not pay him half so much deference. I declare I do not know a more awful object than Darcy on particular occasions, and in particular places; at his own house especially, and of a Sunday evening, when he has nothing to do.”

He can stand up for himself, he does. He's not some hapless Darcy lapdog. He's fine. Him and Jane will be perfectly fine together.

Also, in a book that's all about people being so utterly sure that their own judgment is right and failing hard, I find Charles listening to advice refreshing.

#question response #charles bingley #pride and prejudice

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quitealotofsodapop · 17 days ago

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I’m loving your courtnapping posts and lore. Question tho, who is Sai Tai Sui and what’s his story in JTTW and your aus? Trying to remember if you already made a post but just can’t find it.

tw in advance for discussion of SA.

Sai Tai Sui aka "Jupiter's Rival" is the villain of the Scarlet-Purple Kingdom Arc.

Roughly; Chapters 68-71 in the unabridged version of Journey to the West. Just before the Spider Demons arc.

Sai Tai Sui fell in lust with the King's wife "Lady of the Golden-Sage Palace", and kidnapped her while her and the king were enjoying the Dragon Boat Festival. The King the fell terribly ill/almost comatose from grief for the next three years.

Luckily, Dr Sun Wukong answered the call for an experienced doctor to cure the king! Well more specifically he tricked Zhu Bajie into answering it to punish him for falling asleep when he was supposed to be grocery shopping. Wukong then offers to take the heat off Bajie and treat the King instead.

Wukong spends literally the next whole chapter nerding out about traditional Chinese medical procedures and treatments.

Wukong accurately identifies that the King's illness was from emotional distress... and constipation. He goofs on the palace retainers a bit to hide what his medicine actually is (both out cunning and cus they were keeping Tripitaka hostage as collateral in case the monkey accidentally killed the king through medical malpractice).

The medicine gives the King a colon clean-out big enough to snap him out of his depression, and get him able to recount what happened the night his wife got courtnapped.

The only reason Sai Tai Sui hadn't forced himself upon the stolen Queen by that point was because a Daoist Immortal named Zhang Ziyang saw her being kidnapped, and sneaked her a garment that would make any physical contact upon her extremely painful.

So what does the celestial horn-dog do now that he can't SA his target of affection?

Over the next three years Sai Tai Sui extorts the kingdom to give him women and girls under the guise of providing servants for the Queen. The text sort of tip-toes what he actually does to the women he steals; but one of his demon lackeys mutters that the stolen women are "substitutes" for the Queen. And that the women are "driven to death" by the abuse they suffer.

Bruh.

Cut to Wukong sneaking in disguised as a minion to offer a rescue to the Queen. But the Queen warns him that Sai Tai Sui possesses weaponized bells called Purple-Gold Bells; that with a single shake they can release poison, fire, and sand able to harm even Wukong of all people.

We know she ain't lying cus when Wukong tries to swap out the bell with fakes the first time - he accidentally activates them, hurting him and alerting Sai Tai Sui to his presence.

Wukong is forced to disguise himself as one of the unfortunate servant girls as part of Rescue Plan B. Curiously, the servants/slaves in the fiend's compound include fox and deer demons, making it likely that Sai Tai Sui's crimes extend beyond what he's done to humans.

Wukong forms a plan with the Queen to seduce Sai Tai Sui into dropping his guard so Wukong can steal the real bells. Wukong even blasts off a bunch of tiny hair clones to act as fleas and lice to force Sai Tai Sui to take a bath.

Sai Tai Sui gives the disguised Wukong ("Spring Grace/Beauty) the real bells to clean (note: he be creeping on him too). But the horndog is so embarrassed by the sudden infestation of lice that he's not in the mood for pushing his luck with the Queen and instead goes to "retire with a palace maiden".

Note: In some adaptations (like the 1999/2000s cartoon) Wukong disguises himself as the Queen/the unfortunate palace maiden and does the seducing himself, albeit while wearing the same "don't fcking touch me"-dress as a precaution.

Wukong then goes outside to call Sai Tai Sui for a one-on-one fight.

When the fiend's fails to activate the fake bells' powers, Wukong pulls out the real ones, and jokes "Well clearly your male bells fail to preform in front of my female ones." (it's a erectile dysfunction joke)

Guanyin shows up, subdues Sai Tai Sui with the real Purple-Gold Bells (like a dog collar), and explains the Lore of what went down.

Lore:

Turns out that when the King of Scaret-Purple Kingdom was a young man, he shot and killed two peachicks while hunting. The peachick's mom? Oh you know, Mahāmāyūrī. The same primordial peacock-phoenix who's the Buddha's mom?

So yeah, Mahāmāyūrī (Peng's sister btw) cursed the then-Prince to be separated from his true love, as he'd separated her from her children. Guanyin was witness to this sentence, as was her current steed; The Golden Haired Hou. The unicorn-wolf decided "why the heck not?" and steal the future king's love for himself - breaking through his chain leash when the watch-disciple in charge was asleep.

Golden Haired Hou = Sai Tai Sui.

In other words he's another Celestial animal giving demons a bad name.

End of Lore.

Wukong: "I'm gonna kill this guy." Guanyin: "No. No killing." Wukong: "Seriously!?" Guanyin: "Killing him would be merciful. I'm going to strap his own weapon to his body and trap him in the South Sea so that he can't walk the mortal plane ever again. If he ever defies this sentence, then you can kill him" Wukong: "Ok! That punishment is more like it!"

Sai Tai Sui is a curious case in that; unlikely many threats faced by the PIlgrims, he did not try to hide his actions behind "Well you got 80-something trials to face, and I was available" rather he was a genuinely evil creature who exploited Mahāmāyūrī's sentence to chase his dark desires. And unlike the earlier Kui Mulang - who courtnapped out of genuine, misguided love for a woman who did not remember her past life with him - Sai Tai Sui was motivated by sexual sadism.

Also though Guanyin doesn't want their steed killed, they do not forgive Sai Tai Sui - instead condemning him to an eternal imprisonment in the South Seas, unable to leave less he invokes a bounty on his head from all the Buddhist and Taoist pantheon.

You know it bad when the embodiment of Mercy and Forgiveness is like;

It's really dark story arc in that it deals with some nasty stuff done to women. Stuff that Wukong himself is in danger of since Sai Tai Sui has powers exceeding his, and has no qualms SA-ing his servants/captives.

You can imagine why Sai Tai Sui isn't explored in adaptations much. Amongst all the murder, monk-eating, and treasons; this guy takes it a step farther.

Also rare occurrence; Tripitaka didn't get kidnapped this time. Though considering what Sai Tai Sui does to his captives that's probably for the best.

I'm using the Yu and Jenner translations of Jttw as reference, with help from this cool Chapter-by-Chapter Summary of Jttw to break down the info.

#jttw #journey to the west #sa tw #sun wukong #sai tai sui #jupiter's rival #guanyin #i dont even know how to tag this tbh

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basu-shokikita · 1 year ago

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

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

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

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

Analysis under the cut ⬇️

Season 1

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

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

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

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

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

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

Season 2

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

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

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

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

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

Season 3

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

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

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

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

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

Season 4

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

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

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

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

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

Doomstar Requiem

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

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

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

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

Army of the Doomstar

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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