#power to those who like it i just hate it the same way i hate pikachu

[mononijikayu]

wife — nanami kento.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him. “Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.” He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent.  “They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

GENRE: alternate universe - canon convergence;

WARNING/S: romance, marriage, nsfw, rated 18 and above, explicit content, kissing, making out, rough sex, p to v sex, toilet sex, orgasm, humor, profanity, pet names (baby, honey), possesiveness, jealousy, characters speaking in sexual innuendo, mention of sexual euphemisms, depiction of explicit sexual content, if your partner isn't nanami kento then don't have him ladies, gents and non-binary friends;

WORD COUNT: 6.6k words.

NOTE: nanami kento won the poll, so here we are!!! its relatively shorter than the current style i have, but i hope you still like it. and yes, i added a spoiler for shoko and geto's younger sister (since shoko won #2 in the poll, she also gets a fic!!!). they are still together cause god knows they need love and care after all they have been through. anyway, i hope you all enjoy this!!! i love you all and see you in the next one <3

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if you want to, tip! <3

THIS WAS A RARE OPPORTUNITY.  You don’t like going to these high social events at all, not even outside Jujutsu society. You were a homebody, you adored having time to yourself. But you can’t ignore Gojo Satoru’s invitation. Even if you want to.

He’s been so good to your Kento and he’s always making sure that none of the old farts are making his life miserable. So you felt inclined to go. You felt inclined to play a little bit with this world. 

The grand hall of Gojo manor was resplendent, a wash of gold and white with shimmering drapes that caught the light of the crystal chandeliers overhead. Gojo Satoru was not thrilled to host the gathering. But since it was his duty as the Gojo clan head and he had to play nice with all these people — he gave in and threw the party.

Of course, he refused to make it exclusively a sorcerer only gathering. He wanted to ensure that it was open to everyone, even yourself. That in itself breaks tradition. More often than not, it was only sorcerers, especially those in the higher echelons of Jujutsu society, who were allowed to come and enjoy such liberties. 

But of course, Gojo Satoru was not such a man of tradition. He hated it, as much as your Kento. So, of course, to enjoy you and Kento’s company and to spite all these snobs, he made sure to invite you and everyone else.

You find that you’re at least enjoying the building’s architecture. You were a fan of architecture, in all forms and culture. You and your husband Kento shared that passion, more so when you both were in Denmark or when you both were in the countryside. 

Still, Gojo manor was not too bad. You marvel at the intricate carvings on the walls depicting centuries of legendary battles and heroics of history gone by. Each one was a reminder that this was not just a gathering but a showcase of the Jujutsu world's most powerful and influential. 

Sorcerers mingled, their robes embroidered with clan symbols and sigils that spoke of generations of power and prestige. Conversations buzzed with a mix of guarded politeness and subtle rivalry.

The room alive with an undercurrent of competition disguised as small talk. The sound of polite laughter mixed with the clink of glasses filled with aged sake, its delicate aroma weaving through the air like a ghost.

You stood near the buffet table, the scent of delicacies. Gojo Satoru did well with getting everything together for this, especially the food, all high quality — only the best of the Gojo clan head’s tastes. You both think the same in that exquisite taste. 

That certainly is why you were excited to taste everything. From the perfectly grilled yakitori, dainty bowls of ikura don, to the plates piled with fresh sashimi and brilliantly wrapped hamachi. They were all wafting around you. They were all perfect for you.

“I regret wearing this dress.” You tell yourself in a small mumble. “It’s too tight and I forgot Gojo likes good food like me. I thought he would have left it to his goons to decide the food menu…”

You were dressed in an elegant but simple gown, a deep navy blue that skimmed your figure without the drama of glittering embellishments or the boldness of vibrant silks. Compared to the ostentatious displays around you, it felt almost understated, but it was you.

You could hardly care about the fashions of Jujutsu society. You liked your fashion. And your husband did too. That was all that mattered. You adjusted the silver cuff on your wrist, a small but meaningful gift from Nanami, its cool weight reassuring against your skin.

You glanced around, eyes catching a few familiar faces. There was Nitta Akari from administration and management, gesturing animatedly as she spoke with her colleagues, her face flushed with excitement. Mei Mei stood nearby, her icy beauty undiminished by the cool smirk she wore. 

She held court as always, eyes sharp as a hawk’s as she listened, spoke, and effortlessly commanded the attention of everyone within earshot. Hell, there was Usami too — but he was surrounded by those vultures from the conservative factions. 

But most of the women were like the wives of powerful clan leaders. They represented their husbands, who thought it too boring to join the gathering or rather were abandoned by their husbands to do other things. 

Yet they were powerful women in their own right and they wanted you to know it. They wanted for you to see it, so badly. Their outfits elaborate displays of status, from the gold-threaded kimonos to the jewels woven into their hair.  Their makeup was meticulous, brows arched and lips painted in deep shades of crimson or plum. 

Most of them were interesting to gawk at. But you were certain they thought the same about you. Especially those specific women. It was those more haughty women, clan women under the big three who glanced your way with subtle, evaluating eyes.

You could feel their scrutiny as tangibly as the satin ribbons brushing your wrists. A fan fluttered as a woman whispered behind it, her gaze cutting sideways toward you. She looked as haughty and dry as her entire face.

“Do you think she really fits in here?” one murmured, just loud enough for the question to reach your ears.

“I heard she’s not even a sorcerer.” came the response, this time with a touch of incredulity. “Yet they let her come near our children, to teach them about a world they don’t dwell in. Pathetic waste of time!” 

You pretended not to hear, reaching for a skewer of yakitori to busy your hands. But your pulse quickened, not with embarrassment, but with the awareness of the reason behind their thinly veiled curiosity. They must have been Zenin women, perhaps married to the higher ranked men in Zenin Naobito’s circle. You felt bad for them, yet you also hated them. 

But you knew that wasn’t the case for their hatred of you. Not exactly. It wasn’t the fact that you were an outsider, a non-sorcerer working as a window at Jujutsu High, who taught mundane subjects like history and literature to the students. 

Nor was it that the students often liked you better, seeking your lessons as a respite from their harsher training. It was the reason these women whispered behind jeweled fans and exchanged glances tinged with envy: you were the much beloved wife of Nanami Kento, the stalwart, handsome, and sought-after grade one sorcerer.

From across the room, you caught sight of him. He stood among a small circle of colleagues, the sharp lines of his tailored suit a contrast to the flowing robes around him. His expression was as stoic as ever, but there was a small shift when he saw you, a softening in his gaze that no one else would notice. 

To everyone else, he was the unapproachable, severe sorcerer who never let his guard down. But you knew the way his bright eyes would close just slightly when he was tired, the low chuckle he reserved for evenings spent at home, the way his voice lowered when he told you stories of his youth.

“Good evening.” came a familiar voice that broke through your wandering thoughts. You turned to find Ieiri Shoko standing beside you, her expression one of relaxed amusement. 

She was dressed in an elegant black ensemble that perfectly complemented her laid-back demeanor, a glass of sake dangling effortlessly from her fingers. Her sharp eyes glimmered with mischief as she surveyed the room.

“Evening.” You greeted back at her, your lips sharply echoing into a smile. “Why are you alone? Where’s your darling at?”

“Oh, surrounded by those pathetic vultures.” She pointed at the table where she was talking with the Kyoto women, smiling brightly. “Ugh, I hate those freaks. I can’t believe she’s around them. They’re not even worth an ounce of her giggles.”

“Geto–san has to make good with people somehow.” You pointed out to her, humming. “Connections are just connections. But you’re her lover. It’s been some years. Breathe, Sho.”

She rolls her eyes, before smiling. “Yeah, yeah.”

“How have you been?”

“Good, as always.” Shoko retorts back, humming at you. “I just wish I had cigarettes. But she said if I tried to smoke tonight, she wouldn’t let me hit.”

You laugh at her bluntness. “I do the same to Kento too, but with his alcohol. You both have to be kept on a leash.”

 “Oh the things we do for love.” She sighed heavily before looking at the ones glaring at you both. It wasn’t hard to notice those clusters of sorcerer wives eyeing you with thinly veiled intentions. “You’re doing well against their scrutiny, I see.”

“Barely. But I do find myself enjoying it.” you admitted, a small laugh escaping despite the tension. Shoko’s company was always welcome; her nonchalance had a way of making everything seem less dire.

Shoko took a slow sip from her glass, savoring it like she savored every moment. She shifted her gaze to one of the wives, a woman with a crimson kimono embroidered so elaborately it looked more like a tapestry than a garment. The woman was whispering behind her fan, eyes darting toward you and Shoko with a practiced side glance.

“Ah, her again. I thought she wouldn’t be here after she got exposed for her affair.” Shoko said, rolling her eyes with exaggerated flair. She leaned closer, voice low but biting. “Careful, she’s liable to sprain her neck with how much she’s been glaring. I heard last time she tried something that intense, she nearly fainted from holding her breath.”

You stifled a laugh, your shoulders shaking with barely contained mirth. Shoko’s dry humor was like a breath of fresh air, slicing through the tension with an effortless charm. The woman in the crimson kimono noticed your reaction and stiffened, her cheeks blooming with indignation.

“Let them look, let them whisper. Let them be jealous of you.” Shoko said, turning her eyes back to you. Her voice shifted to something more genuine, the mocking edge softening. “They’ll keep wondering because they can’t figure it out. You’re different, and they hate not understanding something. It’s their worst fear.”

You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you were holding, the knots in your chest loosening. Shoko’s words were more than just comfort; they were a reminder that your place here wasn’t defined by others’ perceptions but by your own truth and by the fact that Nanami stood beside you, unwavering.

“Thanks, Sho. I appreciate it a lot.” you said, voice steadying.

She gave a small shrug, the kind that said don’t make it a big deal. With another sip of sake, she nodded toward the buffet. “Now, let’s hope they restock the good tempura. If not, someone’s getting cursed tonight, and it won’t be me.”

She winked, then sauntered away, leaving you with a smile and the indelible impression that you weren’t as alone as you sometimes felt. Once she moved to the corner to see about the temperature, you could feel from the corner of your eye.

You saw the clan wives exchanging glances again. Their perfectly painted lips tightened just slightly as Nanami Kento, breaking from his group, made his way toward you, every step a quiet declaration.

“Is it true? She’s the one married to him?” another ignorant one whispered, leaning into a group of women whose gazes darted in your direction.

“Yes, the one with Nanami Kento, the number two of the first grade sorcerers.” another foolish one confirmed, unable to keep the hint of envy out of her voice. 

You turned slightly, pretending not to hear as you picked up a small plate of delicacies. You did not care for what they wanted to say about you. You were more focused on your desire to taste the dishes. The laughter and clinking glasses around you felt muted under the weight of the tension gathering nearby.

The whispers turned to sharp murmurs, punctuated by gasps and scandalized looks. But perhaps that bothered them even more, because they started making more comments.

“Who does she think she is, that no name wanna be?” The foolish one whispered, loud enough for people to hear her. But perhaps she does not realize she was not being discreet. 

The ignorant one scoffs in disbelief, shaking her head. “What a snob! How can Nanami-san be married to her?”

Shoko heard enough of it and turned around almost immediately from the dishes to the ladies. They jumped out of their seats. She rolls her eyes at them. It was as though she was just as annoyed as she was bored with them. 

“Honestly, get over yourselves. You all look like desperate idiots.” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at her lips as she leaned casually against a marble pillar. Everyone was now looking at them. Aren’t you at least going to have the gall to say it to our face, lady Kawami?”

The woman in the crimson kimono, lady Kawami, known for her sharp tongue and her greedy  ambition gasped, her painted lips parting in shock. Beside her, another woman with intricately styled hair and a pinched expression scowled deeply. 

“How dare you—”

“Isn’t that the truth?” Shoko’s laughter was light and mocking, yet the glint in her eyes held no softness. She tilted her head, pointing a perfectly manicured finger at Lady Kawami’s reddening face. “You think Nanami Kento would like an ugly face and a bad attitude like yours? Ha! You wish!”

The crowd that had gathered to eavesdrop was stunned into silence, eyes flicking between the women like spectators at a duel. The foolish one’s face turned a deep shade of red, while the ignorant one sputtered, looking moments away from summoning her husband and causing an uproar. 

“You cannot talk to us like that!” she shrieked, voice pitched high with indignation. “My husband will hear of this!”

“Now, now, lady Kawami, you shouldn’t treat my guests like that.” The familiar, light-hearted voice of Gojo Satoru interrupted the escalating tension. The two women felt their eyes widen. They quickly bow before him. “It’s so disrespectful, don’t you think?”

Heads turned as he approached, dressed in an exquisite black and silver kimono decorated with the Gojo clan crest. Even in traditional wear, he managed to exude a casual, almost irreverent charm. His dark, round glasses perched on his nose added to the effect as he lowered them just slightly, revealing eyes that shimmered with barely concealed amusement.

“Ah, Gojo-sama.” Lady Kawami said, trying to mask her fluster with a demure nod, but the tension in her posture betrayed her. “I didn’t mean any disrespect towards her, but surely you can understand that—”

“Oh, I understand completely, lady Kawami.” Gojo interrupted, a playful grin spreading across his face. He pushed his glasses back up, letting them catch the light so that the rest of the room was reflected in them. “I understand that you’re boring my dear friend Shoko, and frankly, I can’t have that. Her girlfriend wouldn't be so happy, either. And of course, I love my friend’s happiness.”

The subtle ripple of suppressed laughter ran through the more observant bystanders. Lady Kawami’s mouth snapped shut, her eyes narrowing dangerously. It was rare for someone to speak to her like that and get away with it, but this was Gojo Satoru. A man whose reputation as the most powerful sorcerer in the room and quite possibly the world would mean his words carried weight that no amount of social maneuvering could deflect.

Shoko’s smirk widened as she raised her glass in mock toast to Gojo, her eyes gleaming. “Well, look who decided to save the day. Dashing, really, Gojo.”

He winked at her. “Anything to make sure tonight stays interesting.”

The ignorant one, still seething but now cautious, looked between Gojo and Shoko before settling on silence. The power dynamics had shifted too sharply, and she knew better than to push further. No one can go against Gojo Satoru and not face repercussions. No one. And it would have ended up badly for their husbands and their families if they did. 

You exhaled, tension releasing from your shoulders as the spectacle unraveled. A small, knowing smile touched your lips as Kento's eyes found yours from across the room, his expression softening just a fraction, and you knew that you weren’t alone in facing these moments. You were surrounded by friends who would always have your back, in their own unique, if slightly chaotic, ways.

The room’s atmosphere gradually loosened, tension shifting back to its usual simmering undercurrent. Gojo’s playful banter had disarmed the scene, leaving only the embarrassed scowls of lady Kawami and her cohort. Shoko took another sip of her sake, the glint of satisfaction in her eyes clear as she watched the women bristle and disperse.

“Good job not throwing that plate, masterful control.” Shoko said to you, her voice carrying a hint of approval. She nodded at the untouched delicacies in your hand. “Would’ve been a waste of good food.”

You chuckled softly, appreciating her humor. “Shouldn’t you be saying that to yourself, Sho?”

“Well, I mean, that’s true.” 

Gojo laughs. “Shoko would have done worse than that and we both know it.”

“Hm, but I would have you carry my food to my table.”

“Oh? Then people would be surprised, how anyone can force the Gojo clan leader to do anything on a whim.”

Before you could respond, a presence behind you made the small hairs on your neck stand up in recognition. You turned, and there he was—Nanami Kento, striding toward you with the kind of quiet confidence that set him apart from the rest.

He looked ever so handsome, your husband. But when you get him even more up close? It’s a different story. He looked even more like a god when he stood before you this close.  

He took in the scene, eyes flicking over the lingering crowd, Gojo’s smirk, and Shoko’s knowing look. Then his attention settled on you, warm and steady. “I see I missed the entertainment.” he said, his voice deep and even, but with a trace of curiosity.

Gojo lifted a hand in a lazy wave. “Ah, Nanami, you missed Shoko here defending your lovely lady’s honor with an admirable lack of diplomacy.”

Kento’s brows lifted slightly, his gaze darting to Shoko, who shrugged, unbothered. “They deserved it.” she said, as if that were the most obvious fact in the world.

With a quiet exhale, Kento nodded, accepting the unspoken truth that you were protected by bonds deeper than mere duty. He reached out, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. The small gesture spoke volumes, his touch grounding and reassuring. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, eyes searching yours for any trace of discomfort.

You smiled up at him, your earlier tension melting away entirely under his gaze. “I am now.”

The corners of his mouth twitched in what might have been a smile, subdued as always but unmistakably there. The few remaining onlookers, who had hoped to catch a new drama unfolding, exchanged glances before deciding they had better places to be.

Gojo clapped his hands, shattering the delicate silence that had settled. “Well, now that we’ve cleared the air, what do you say we toast to another evening of society’s finest theatrics?” His grin was as wide as ever, his glasses reflecting the chandelier’s light like a pair of miniature suns.

Nanami shook his head, but there was a hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at you, then back at Gojo. “You never change, Gojo.” he muttered, the ghost of a smile touching his lips.

“And wouldn’t it be boring if I did?” Gojo countered, raising a brow.

Shoko raised her glass, smirking at Gojo before tipping it toward you and Nanami. “Unwavering loyalty and keeping things interesting!” she said.

You lifted your plate with a grin, and Kento, never one for dramatics, simply inclined his head. But the unspoken promise in his gaze, the silent support he offered, said more than any toast or witty comment ever could. In a hall filled with power, it was that quiet moment, surrounded by friends and the one who held your heart, that resonated most.

Soon enough, Shoko returned to her girlfriend with her plate stacked with food on one hand and the other holding a glass of wine. Her girlfriend, Geto Suguru’s younger sister, was waiting for her at one of the tables by the back.

Of course, Gojo Satoru returned to moving about and greeting everyone, but he seemed to have been halted by lord Kawami, probably trying to get things straight and settled. No one likes losing his favor after all. It was better that everything was smoothed out with him.

The incident however did not stop the women from continuing to look at your husband wantingly. One of the clan leader’s wives, her jeweled fan hiding half her face, whispered something to the woman beside her. They glanced over, eyes narrowing as if they could decipher what spell had ensnared someone like Nanami Kento.

“They’re watching again.” you murmured, feeling a twinge of jealousy and self-consciousness.

You immediately caught the glance of a woman adorned with a striking emerald necklace that glittered every time she turned. Her expression was polished and unreadable, but the pointed way she looked at you sent an old, familiar discomfort crawling up your spine.

Kento’s presence next to you was a calm in the storm, an anchor against the waves of whispers and stares. He tilted his head slightly, just enough that the room’s golden glow cast warm highlights across his sharp features. His eyes, serious and unwavering, met yours.

“I don’t like the way they’re looking at you.” You whisper to him.

“Let them, honey.” he said, his deep voice rich with certainty. “That’s all they can do.”

He took your hand, calloused but gentle, and squeezed it just enough to send a rush of comfort through you. His thumb traced the side of your hand in a subtle, soothing gesture. The cool metal of his ring finger brushes against your skin with intent. 

“They should know that I am exactly where I choose to be. I’m a married man, after all.”

A silence swept over the nearby crowd, as if Nanami Kento’s words, though spoken softly, carried through the hall like a sudden change in the wind. The clan leaders’ wives, women who could command a room with a flick of their eyes or a whisper laced with intent, shifted uncomfortably. For all their power, their meticulously curated reputations, and the alliances they upheld like prized heirlooms, they had never been the center of such unwavering devotion.

Akari from administration glanced over and offered a subtle nod of approval, a small smile playing on her lips as she resumed her conversation. Mei Mei, sharp-eyed and ever perceptive, caught the moment as well. She raised her glass, her smirk deepening as though to say, well played.

The subtle tension that once swirled around the room, woven through glances and whispers, began to dissipate. Some turned their attention back to their conversations, laughter resuming, but not without the occasional glance in your direction, this time tinged more with begrudging respect than judgment.

“Kento, baby.” you said softly, a small smile breaking through as your heart settled back into its natural rhythm. The weight of self-consciousness fell away, replaced by a warm sense of belonging that his presence always seemed to ignite.

“Hmm?” he replied, his gaze still watching you with an intensity that was rare for him, except when you were alone.

“Thank you, baby.” you whispered, squeezing his hand back.

His eyes softened, the smallest, barely-there curve of his lips showing just the hint of a smile meant only for you. “There’s nothing to thank me for, honey.” he replied, tilting his head as if to read your thoughts. “It’s simply the truth.”

══════════════════

IT HAPPENED AS QUICKLY AS ONE COULD BLINK. But you suppose you can’t help it. Your desire for pleasure was fast when it came to Nanami Kento. Much more so when you’re jealous. BUt you knew your husband liked that. More than he likes to admit to you.

You felt a delicious rush of power as you yanked him closer by his tie, leading him out of the crowded hall. Away from the watchful eyes and mingling strangers, it was just the two of you in the quiet, dim hallway, with only your quickened breaths filling the silence.

The door closed behind you, and before you could say another word, his hands were on you, strong and possessive, pressing you back against the cool tiles of the bathroom wall. His fingers traced over your hips and along your waist, leaving a tingling heat in their wake.

It was as if he was memorizing every inch of you all over again. You looked up at him, catching his gaze; his eyes were heavy with desire, and the way he looked at you made your knees feel weak. He was entirely yours in that moment, and you were entirely his.

Your hands slid up his chest, feeling the warmth beneath his shirt, his heartbeat echoing your own. His mouth was on yours again, the kiss deep and ravenous, filling the space with the sounds of quickened breath and desperate touches. The world beyond the bathroom faded, leaving only the two of you, tangled in each other.

When he pulled back to look at you, you could barely catch your breath. His hand found the curve of your neck, fingers tracing gently along your jawline, and your own hands gripped his shoulders, grounding you as your pulse raced.

“You’re so good….” you managed to whisper breathlessly, your voice trembling as you tried to form words. "Kento….." you murmured, the words spilling out between gasps, each syllable almost a sigh as you clung to him. 

The intensity of his gaze made you shiver, your own desire reflected in his eyes. He leaned closer, his breath warm against your cheek, and you felt a thrill ripple through you as he whispered your name. His breath felt hot, so tenderly warm against your skin. And even more so when he said your name in that breathy way. That made you feel even more excitement.

For a moment, you both paused, catching your breath as the heat of the moment washed over you. His fingers brushed along your cheek, his thumb tracing the corner of your mouth, as though savoring this quiet, charged moment before pulling you back in with the same raw, electric passion.

And in that hidden space, the two of you lost yourselves, caught in the perfect, unbreakable intimacy that felt like a world away from the bustling party. If you both had your way, both of you would have been locked away from the world. All you needed was each other.

His hands explored with a possessive tenderness, each touch leaving trails of fire across your skin. You let out a shaky breath, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as he pressed his lips along your jaw, down to the sensitive spot just below your ear. You shivered, feeling him smile against your skin, clearly pleased at the effect he was having on you.

You pulled him even closer, fingers moving from his shirt to his tie, loosening it slightly, just enough to slide it off his neck. Your breath hitched as he leaned in, his eyes fixed on you with a focused intensity that made you feel as though you were the only person in the world.

"Can’t believe you dragged me out here, honey." he murmured, his voice low and teasing, his words sending a thrill through you. "But I’d follow you anywhere. I’ll make love to you anywhere you want me to."

His words made your heart race, and you felt the butterflies from earlier stirring again as he leaned in, his mouth meeting yours with a new urgency. It was as if all the tension from the night poured into that kiss, building into something raw and unstoppable.

As he pulled you closer, his fingers gently brushed your hair back from your face, and you caught his gaze, breathless. You couldn’t help the small, breathless laugh that escaped as you looked at him, both of you a little dizzy, a little wild.

“This is dangerous, you know, baby.” you whispered, a playful smirk dancing on your lips as you tightened your hold on him. But he only raised an eyebrow, his own grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Good.” he replied, his voice a low murmur. "Wouldn’t have it any other way."

Soon enough, you were under his thumb. His movements grew rougher, each thrust deep and unrelenting, sending a surge of sensation through you that bordered on overwhelming. Every press of his body against yours was a heady mixture of strength and passion. 

And it was all you could do to cling to him, fingers digging into his shoulders as the intensity built. His pace quickened, and you felt your back arch instinctively, unable to control the way your body responded to him.

Your breaths came in sharp, shallow gasps, each one catching in your throat as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, his touch both possessive and tender. Your senses blurred; the world narrowed down to the feel of him, the heat between you, the way he whispered your name against your skin in a voice that was both rough and reverent.

Every movement, every thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, each one pushing you further until you were lost in the sheer intensity of it all. You gripped him tightly, almost desperately, as though grounding yourself against the delicious onslaught. 

His name left your lips in broken gasps, and as you met his gaze, the shared passion and vulnerability in his eyes were enough to undo you completely. Everything about your husband makes you feel alive. Especially at this moment. He was good at making you cry for life.

In that moment, you felt yourself surrender, giving in fully to the dizzying rush, to him, and to the warmth and bliss that consumed you both. You shifted slightly beneath him, the heat of your body still trapped in the shared intimacy of the moment. The words escaped you before you could stop them, your jealousy bubbling to the surface. 

"I saw the way they were looking at you tonight, baby." you whispered, your voice a blend of frustration and desire, your fingers gripping his shoulders tightly. "All those women... They were ogling you, making eyes at you, and I couldn’t—"

His breath hitched at the raw honesty in your voice. His eyes darkened, a flicker of something primal flashing across his face. Without breaking his rhythm, he leaned closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Don’t you dare think about them. You're the only one I want. I only want my wife. My little precious wife."

His words were a balm, but the way his body moved, the deep, relentless thrusts, were what truly silenced your insecurities. The force of each movement was almost punishing, his hips driving into you harder, making your head spin with pleasure. His hands gripped your hips, steadying you as he picked up speed, his breath ragged against your skin.

"You think I want them?" he asked, his voice a dark, velvety rasp. "No. It's you, only you. Always been you." His words came out in desperate gasps, the intensity of his thrusts growing, pushing you both to the edge. "You’re mine. No one else matters."

You moaned, feeling a thrill surge through your chest, his raw claim igniting something deeper within you. His pace never faltered, and as he rams into you harder.

Each movement seems to strip away the last remnants of your doubts. Your body responded, the tension in you winding tighter, tighter, until you were sure you'd break. You could barely speak, your voice hitching as you met his powerful thrusts with a soft whimper, your body rocking with the force of him.

"I’m jealous, baby. I always am." you admitted, your hands tracing down his chest, grasping at him desperately, the words slipping between gasps. "But you're mine too. Only mine."

"Always have been, honey. Only yours." he replied, his hands pressing you harder into the cold tile as he moved faster, pushing you further toward the edge with each heated thrust. 

His voice was a low growl, his rhythm unrelenting, and you could feel him losing himself as much as you were, both of you consumed by the need, the overwhelming desire to claim and be claimed.

The moment his lips crashed into yours, everything else seemed to melt away. The overwhelming intensity of the kiss mirrored the urgency of his movements, his body pressing deeper into yours, each thrust sending waves of heat through you. The kiss was possessive, his tongue claiming yours with the same hunger that burned between you both.

As he pushed deeper, his rhythm becoming relentless, you felt a broken cry escape from you, a mixture of pleasure and raw emotion that you couldn’t hold back. His eyes, dark with desire, caught yours, and for a moment, you saw something deeper than just lust—something primal and protective, something that made your heart race in a way you couldn’t explain.

"You’re so fucking beautiful, honey." he whispered against your lips, his voice rough with the same need he’d been building in both of you. “My wife is so fucking beautiful.” 

His hands moved to your hips, pulling you impossibly closer as he thrust deeper, pushing you to the brink, your cries turning into soft whimpers as your body was caught in the storm of sensation. It felt so good, it always has been.

The deeper he is, the deeper the pleasure fills you. The more you cry out and moan. The more he tries to defy the possibilities, thrusting deeper to fill you more and more.

The tears that pricked the corners of your eyes weren't from pain—no, it was something more complex, something that left you breathless. It was the weight of the connection, the force of his touch, and the emotional release that you hadn’t expected.

All combined into something that made your chest tighten with overwhelming feeling. You cried because he was inside you in every way, not just physically but emotionally, each thrust deeper, each kiss harder.

Kento pulled away slightly, his thumb brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek, his breath hot against your face. His eyes softened for a moment, but the hunger in them never dulled. 

"You’re mine, only mine, wife." he breathed, his voice low but full of meaning, before kissing you again, harder this time, as though proving to you what he’d just spoken.

The kiss deepened as he pulled you even closer, his body pressing against yours with a fervor that made your entire being hum with raw need. You could feel every inch of him, every movement of his muscles, and it was as if the world had disappeared entirely, leaving just the two of you tangled in this electric, consuming moment.

His thrusts became more forceful, each one driving deeper, pushing you to the edge of something wild and uncontrollable. Your nails dug into his back, clinging to him for support as his mouth moved from yours, trailing down your neck, biting and sucking as he marked you, claiming you completely.

"Don't hold back, honey." he murmured against your skin, his breath ragged. "Let go for me. I need you to feel this... all of it."

You couldn't hold back, not anymore. Not even if anyone was to hear outside. You didn’t feel bad about being this loud because it was your pleasure. About the pleasure he was giving you. He was making you feel good and you wanted him to know it. 

“Good baby, my good little wife. Take me. Take me whole.”

His words hit something deep inside, and you cried out, your voice a broken whisper as your body surrendered fully to him, to the pleasure, to the overwhelming emotions that swirled inside you. His name escaped your lips in a desperate, breathless moan, and the sound seemed to spur him on, his pace quickening as he met you with relentless urgency.

Each thrust pushed you further into a frenzy of sensation, and the pleasure that had once been distant now consumed you completely. The tears that had been building in your eyes spilled over, not from pain, but from the intensity, from the way his body moved with yours in perfect rhythm, from the way he made you feel so utterly seen, so completely his.

Kento’s hand moved to your face, his thumb gently swiping at the tears on your cheek, a tender touch amidst the feverish passion. His eyes softened for just a moment, but then they hardened with desire as he kissed you again, his tongue tasting your lips, your moans swallowed by the deep kiss.

"You're everything to me, honey." he growled, his voice barely audible between breaths. "And I’ll make sure you never forget that."

His words, the way his body pressed into yours, the way his hands held you so firmly. It all built up to something so deep, so visceral that you couldn’t tell where your body ended and his began. Everything inside you snapped, the waves of pleasure crashing over you in a rush, leaving you breathless and shaking in his arms. 

Your cries were mingled with his own as he lost himself in the moment, the sound of skin against skin filling the small space as you both gave in to the release, the powerful culmination of everything that had been building between you.

As the waves of pleasure slowly subsided, leaving both of you breathless and spent, the quiet hum of the room returned, only now it felt like a distant memory compared to the electric tension between you. You both lingered in the aftermath, bodies still pressed together, hearts racing in sync. 

Your breath was ragged, your fingers tracing the sweat-slick skin of his back, grounding yourself in the sensation of him still so close. The room was quiet, save for the soft rustling of your clothes and the echo of your breaths.

But just as you began to collect yourself, a sound broke the stillness—a soft thud of footsteps, followed by the faint murmur of voices. Your heart skipped a beat as the realization hit. Your boldness had gotten inflated by sanity. 

You both hadn’t noticed the soft creak of the door, hadn’t heard the hushed conversations approaching. And then, before either of you could react, the door was pushed open, revealing the clan wives, standing in the doorway, eyes wide with shock, mouths agape.

Kento’s gaze flickered to the doorway, but when he saw the surprised looks on their faces, he didn’t flinch, didn’t move away. He stayed right where he was, his hands still possessively on you, his lips curled into a confident, unbothered smirk. He looks at you, mesmerized by you. By his want for you. Nothing else mattered. Decency, rules, proportionality — they’re done when he makes love to you.

Yet when you looked at him. Nothing else mattered. You too also didn’t care now. A sense of defiance rose within you, the fire from before still burning strong. Without a second thought, you pulled Kento closer, your hands grasping his face as you tilted your head up to meet his lips. The kiss was fierce and unapologetic, claiming him fully in front of everyone who dared to look.

You pulled away slightly, just enough to look him in the eyes, your voice low but steady, a possessive edge coloring your words. "You're only mine, hm? Forever, baby." you whispered, your fingers gently tracing his jawline as you met his smirk.

His gaze softened for a moment, his lips curling into a grin that sent a shiver down your spine. "Always, honey." he replied, his voice a low rumble that held all the certainty in the world. “Forever.”

The clan wives stood frozen once again, caught between disbelief and curiosity, but neither of you acknowledged them again. You didn’t need to. Kento's words, and the way he held you, told them everything they needed to know.

You were his, and he was yours.

Forever.

[verdantwyrm]

On that topic though, I would like to touch more on the subject of Jimmy being also a victim to himself. I fear this might anger a lot of people, but Jimmy is an almost exact perfect example of someone with BPD (As someone with it myself) and how his spiralling is directly tied to Curly.

The game never once insinuates that Jimmy is like this because he's mentally ill, the line of him having it "hard" back on earth doesn't mean anything either, but it also means a lot coming from Curly. Curly is a representative of a Favorite person, and everything Jimmy did in the game, who he hurt, how he did it and the language he used, is very close to how real-life people with BPD sometimes treat their own FPs and the people around them.

They become erratic, jealous, driven by fear, apologetic, desperate and cling to everything and everything. Jimmy insults Curly, twists his words and makes him out the be the villain, he drives everyone away from him at the birthday party and spends months feeding lies to the others that Curly is the one that crashed the ship despite this lie not actually really benefitting Jimmy all that much in the long run.

Jimmy wanted to kill everyone on the ship, he could have lied and instead said that it was simply a fault of the ship, a miscalculation, an accident. Instead, he took every opportunity to make Curly out to be the one who ultimately decided that this was the best way to go about it, and then also blamed it on Curly's mental health dropping after being fired.

This is all extremely elaborate, and a very difficult lie to keep up with, as almost everyone on that ship has plenty of reasons to believe otherwise that Curly didn't crash the ship. What with Anya's psych eval of him being "the same as usual" and being sane enough to continue doing his job. Anya also trusted Curly enough to tell him about the pregnancy, and to also tell him about the gun. And even though it's not very well expressed in the game (possibly intentional since we are seeing through Jimmy's eyes.) She does trust Curly, and she probably continued to trust him even when all was wrong around her.

And Daisuke also has no real reason to distrust Curly, we don't know much about their relationship, but there was definitely a sense of trust and reliability between the both of them. This is also evident through Swansea and Curly, where Curly trusts him enough to hold onto the axe, despite being told to return it to the case as everything has to constantly run through him. He was taking risks, he was terrified of being abandoned, left behind in Curly's shadow. He was having fits of rage, outbursts of suicidal thoughts and harm to himself and to those around him.

Jimmy twisted and kept twisting that knife in an attempt to turn away everyone from Curly even when he was at his lowest to isolate and to make him cling to the only thing he had left; Jimmy.

This adds even more to Curly's eventual condition, being completely reliant on Jimmy, being completely subject to his will and power. And something that he even admitted to liking, he likes power. And he likes that the circumstances given, might not have turned out the best way, it gave Jimmy that power over Curly. Something he had been climbing for a long time, and something he so desperately wanted because he was sick and tired of hearing just how fantastic he was at something Jimmy wasn't.

And yet, despite all of this, Jimmy praised Curly. He hated how much he adored him, hated how much he idolised him. And even at the end of it all, his main focus was just Curly, making him out to be the hero of the story despite spending such a long time attempting to make him out to be the villain.

And then even further to make the situation out to be that he was also the hero of the story, that all of his actions were justified to some degree because it was all for Curly. He fixed it, he fixed everything for Curly. Because despite what he did to Anya, Swanse and Daisuke, his only real concern behind all of it was Curly.

Every hallucination leads to him, every goal, every path. He was so concerned with him, that even when it was directly in his face, the only apology he ever muttered was to Curly. Using Anya's words.

Our worst moments don't make us monsters.

Jimmy is a victim of only himself and the consequences of his own actions, and he is by far one of the better, unintentional examples of BPD.

[alarajrogers]

I feel we could get a lot of traction with billboards in red states saying "Learn the secrets they don't want you to know!" Include a web site. Then the web site, using conspiracy theory type language, explains to you that "dark forces" in bed with "enemy agents" and "wealthy elites" are trying to control the government, explain to them how they are doing it... and don't name names until you get to the end. Never say Republican, just name specific people who happen to be Republicans. Talk about how these forces control the media.

Also, specifically call out how these forces want you to blame the Jews rather than them. Ask them if they thought of Jews when they thought of wealthy elites, and explain that is exactly what the elites want you to think, so you pick on your Jewish dentist and not the actual billionnaires who secretly rule the world, who are of many different religions.

Similarly, do something similar with migrants. Migrants come to this country and take your job... because they'll do it for so little, because they can't come in legally so they can't protest being underpaid, and your bosses pocket the difference! When people have a way to come in legally, that doesn't happen. So instead of cracking down on migrants, crack down on the companies that employ them, and give them a means to legally enter the country -- so they'll be safe to report on gang activity and employers in food service using practices that contaminate the food, without fearing being deported. And so they won't be getting under-the-table wages that no American can or would want to beat.

But you present all this the same way the conspiracy theorists do. "It just makes sense." "Do the research, you'll see the truth!" And then you give them links to credible sources. And you have explanations of how the US government works and "how people who hate ordinary Americans exploit the system to get power and make sure it's used to make your life worse!" And everything is like fourth grade reading level.

A lot of people, once they get to the names, will snort and call it misinformation because you're calling out Their Tribe. But other people will go, huh, maybe there's something to this... And because everything you're saying is actually true, any independent research confirms it. And now you have a counter to QAnon, who don't know they are leftists, who think they are conservatives who believe in small government and low taxes, but you've just presented most of the Democrats' policy points as being palatable to those beliefs.

the lesson I'm taking away from this election is not that the Democrats need to become more left wing or more right wing but moreso that they need to find a way to cater their rhetoric towards people who genuinly have no idea what is going on. the target audience for every speech and political appearance should be someone who doesn't know what the three branches of government are because they were drawing a Cool S during high school civics

[vellichor-of-the-solivagant]

Like Birds on a Broken Branch | 5

Monster! Task Force 141 X F!Reader

Previous Chapter / Masterlist

Context Warning: NSFW! Mentions of Dub-con/ Non-con, Oral Sex, Author's Poor Attempt in Smut & Dark Fic, Mentions of Slavery, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Fingerfucking, Biting, Overstimulation (kinda), Edging (kinda)

What the fuck.

Those three words were the first thought of train that shot up to your brain as he finished his statement, his tone and his gaze both reeking of confidence and certainty, which made something flip in your stomach.

You had always liked confident men who knew about what they wanted and had the power to back up their actions and words. But that only applied to men in fiction you have read in books. In real life? Especially after the fucking blood-sucking leech who couldn’t keep his goddamn hands to himself and just buy women he could keep fucking by his side and leave you the fuck alone, captured you and sold you, your trust and belief that one day you would meet someone who actually wouldn’t force themselves into their females had broken down like stars in the sky.

Well . . . there was Graves, the same fucking leech you wanted to kick on the balls, but he wasn’t the fucking focus right now.

You stared at Simon, lips parted in disbelief. You blinked your eyes rapidly in repeat, his words echoing in your mind like a broken record, but his low laugh shattered it.

“I see why Price told me he loves watching your expressions,” he said, untying his cloak and letting it fall on the floor.

You frowned at him, face slightly warming at the memories of Price between your thighs, his tongue working on your clit whereas his fingers curled inside your hole. As much as you hated it, the fire-breathing lizard knew how to pleasure a woman . . . and torment you.

But if this was going to keep up, if this was how the rest of your life would play out, wouldn’t it be better to get used to it soon? It wouldn’t be a long while now for them to run out of patience and tie you up on bed all day and night to take their turns to fuck you mindless.

You felt like laughing at the thought, but in your situation, the best course of action to keep them pleased and not hurt you as much was to take their offers—or rather, ask them what you could offer them.

“How would you like to do it?” you questioned in a hushed tone.

Simon blinked, confused by the sudden query, but quickly understood what you meant, and huffed. “No, how would you like to do it?”

For fuck’s sake, this man got a way with words more than the fucking siren did.

You remained lying on the bed as he got up and leaned down on you, the balaclava hoisted up to the bridge of his nose. At first, he seemed hesitant, you both were, but when you flattered your eyes closed, and he was the first to dive down onto a kiss.

It started soft, patient—not any sign of aggression nor cruel hunger in his lips. And as thanks, you reached up to his head as he splayed his now ungloved hand on your stomach. Then, it began to travel down south, slightly tugging on the hem of your dress.

He broke the kiss, slightly pulling himself away from you, and you opened your eyes, meeting a pair of deep brown eyes, but quickly left the contact. You watched his hand disappear under your dress, going under the band of your undergarment. Somewhat, you did not feel any sense of disturbance or disgust being this close to him. The roughness of his calloused hands, instead, made your skin crawl with anticipation.

“Use your words, love,” he muttered the command to your ear.

You took a deep breath. “Go on.”

You shuddered at his touch as you felt his warm digit brush against your wetness, trying to keep yourself relaxed as he circled the small bud of nerves. You let out a pretty little noise, tilting your head back each time his finger dipped into your entrance, and felt your core tighten up and drip onto his hand. You sunk your teeth into your lower lip when Simon found your sensitive nub, running his fingers on it up and down.

A hum escaped his lips. “Here?” He pressed on your clit, eliciting a whine from you, and moved his hand down, letting his thumb do the work while his fingers dove into your entrance.

You grabbed onto his arm, knowing what it did to Price before, only to confirm it going with Simon as well.

He inserted another finger, which your cunt easily welcomed in, and continued his dirty work. His calloused thumb swirled constant maddening circles over your clit, his fingers dragging in and out of your slick walls. He knew you were close, clenching around his digits and your breathing growing quicker. Then, he stopped at the brink.

“Simon,” you cried, cursing in your mind. “Please.”

He quickly resumed his actions, his fingers pushing deeper into you, and his palm smacking against your clit. In return, you chanted his name, and pleasure shot throughout your body. But he didn't stop, still moving his fingers as they grew drenched in a languid pace, till he pulled out.

Simon moved south, pushing the dress up to your abdomen and quickly getting ahold of your panties, pulling them off. You found yourself swallowing as he fixed his mask over his nose and looked up at you. “Keep your eyes on me.”

Bare hands traveled along the skin of your outer thighs, keeping them spread, and using his hands, he pulled your hips closer, bringing your core against his mouth. Like a continuance, his thumb rolled your sensitive bud as his tongue buried deep into your.

Your hand slammed against the mattress, clenching on the sheets at the sensation of his tongue lapping up your fluids, and the feeling began to grow too quickly the moment he threw one of your legs over his shoulder.

Simon clamped his lips over your clit, sucking hard as he watched your back arch onto the bed, and in comparison to the way you held yourself back before, a song of moans and whines left your lips, and never in his life he had heard something so captivating.

You came quicker this time, your hips rolling against his mouth, your flavors flooding his tongue, and reluctantly he pulled away. You watched him crawl over you, tearing your nightgown apart like paper, completely exposing yourself to the monster once more.

However, this time, you didn't mind. You had brought this to yourself and you were willing to take the risk.

His hand traveled along your chest, his rough fingers brushing over your delicate nipple while he bent down, taking the other with his mouth. Without any words said, his free hand went to the buttons of his shirt, and he straightened up, jerking his clothes off, showing off what had been underneath.

Scars dusted his body, trailing like the tails of shooting stars. With how they scattered on his fair skin, it would seem that they were almost connected to form constellations themselves, adorning his muscles.

It was hard not to stare.

But it was harder not to think that he was this beautiful this whole time underneath those blasted layers of his.

“You're staring,” he remarked, and tilted his head, in a way that made something flip in your stomach. “Like what you see?”

“Yes.” You splayed a hand on his abdomen. You brushed your finger along his skin, nails scraping the bumps and craters of the scars as you slowly pulled yourself up to sit. As you reached his shoulder, trailing over his nape, you leaned in and pressed a kiss on his chest. “Quite well.”

Simon found himself smiling. He placed a hand on your lower back and pulled you onto him, your face on his chest, yours against his stomach. In swift yet careful movements, he flipped you over. With his guidance, you maneuvered on his lap, your wet sex pressing against the tent on his pants, and your hands resting on his chest whereas he settled on your ass. Following the movements of his hands, you ground back and forth, shivering, quiet moans leaving your lips, and your breath hitched as he bucked up.

You watched a smirk play on his lips, which you frowned at, and Heavens forbid your impulsive thoughts—you reached between your thighs, unbuckling his belt, leaving it just as that, and popped his button open. You pulled him out from the confines of his pants and swallowed at the feeling of his cock in your hand, precum leaking from its tip. It stood proud for a moment, before falling on his abdomen.

“Go on, I did ask you how you would like to do it,” he reminded and slowly, you began stroking his length, eliciting a groan from him. “Fuckin’ hell.”

You gave a few good tugs, before adjusting from his lap and slid your core against his cock. You gasped out at the sensation, clenching your core over nothing, just as he grunted, squeezing your ass and guiding you once again to grind onto him.

Your eyes flattered close and you let your head tilt back, rolling your hips faster with each passing second. Your thighs began to tremble, brows knitted as you whined his name, to which he responded with murmurs of your name, till strings of his cum shot out, painting his stomach white.

You slowed down and leaned down to him, not minding the stickiness that spread on your abdomen as your skin met his in a searing touch. You rested your head on his chest, listening to his heartbeat that seemed to be almost in the same rhythm as yours, whilst his hands traveled up to your waist.

“Come here,” he demanded. You tilted your head up and raised a brow in question. He smiled. “On my face.”

Your eyes widened. “You want me to—”

“Very much so,” he cut you off, swallowing hard, his chest rising and falling rapidly. “Just move how you would on my cock.”

You swallowed, and finally, after a few seconds, you gave him a nod. Rising from his chest, he picked you up and easily perched you above his face. Then, when he lied back down on the mattress, he lowered you to his mouth and began licking. You gripped the top of the headboard, throwing your head back with a trembling sigh, and just as he said, you ground on him as he devoured you once again.

Simon delved deep, tasting, teasing, and pushing you further and further until you writhed in his grip. He sucked on your clit, hard, bringing you close. Your knuckles had turned white, trying to come back down on the bed, when he let go of your sex to sink his teeth in your inner thigh. You sucked in a harsh breath, and fuck—turned on instead of pained. So close to your sensitive clit, the bite was wildly blissful, and finally, you came together with him.

He groaned, kissing the spot where he left his mark, while still moving you against his mouth and jerking himself off, albeit both slowing down.

When you came down next to him back on the bed, he immediately wrapped his arms around your naked flesh, pressing his lips on your hairline, and didn't seem to mind the sheet of sweat coating your skin.

“I . . .” You paused, catching your breath. “ I thought you were new to this.”

“I am.” He caressed your back, gently massaging your muscles. “But I've seen enough to know and learn.”

“Fucking hell.” You grumbled on his chest, to which he responded with a low chuckle.

“Let's get you cleaned up.”

You blinked away the sleepiness as you felt the warmth of the sun kissing your skin through the gap in the curtains. You shifted on the bed and groaned at the foreign weight over your waist.

“Morning.”

You jolted at the gravely deep voice that reverberated at your side and looked over to see Simon next to you.

He inched closer, burying his face in the crook of your neck, where his breath fanned your skin, his teeth grazing over a vein. “Surprised to see me beside you?”

“No,” you placed a hand on his arm over your waist. “Did you have a good sleep?”

“Best one yet.”

You found yourself staring at his eyes, reflecting the light like a pool of melted gold, and smiled. “I think I slept well.”

You flinched once again when the doors of your chamber slammed open, and the incubus, the freaking catalyst of the events of the night, sauntered in.

“I knew it!” Johnny yelled and joined you on the bed, taking your free side. “No wonder I couldnae tap into her head!”

Simon shook his head and pulled you closer to him. “Apologize first.”

“What, why?” Mactavish questioned, making you frown.

“Our wife couldn't sleep last night because of you.”

“Oh.” There was a short while of silence before he carefully took your hand. “I'm sorry, Bonnie.”

But you did not answer, annoyance filling your brain at the lack of sincereness in his voice. You pushed yourself further into the wraith's embrace.

“Bonnie? Love?”

You closed your eyes and heard Simon’s scoff.

You heaved out a sigh, staring at the white clouds blotting the blue sky. The wind brushed your skin, making your dress flatter against the grass that prickled your bare back and delivered the scent of the flowers surrounding you. You had never been in a garden before, barely even touched the grass or walked on a field without fearing for your life. But in this place, one you would and could call a cage, you found an unexpected warmth and comfort.

Well, except for the blasted incubus next to you, who hadn’t probably blinked for a few minutes now, eyes as blue as the sky never leaving your face. You still hadn’t answered him when he had been relentlessly apologizing to you, much to Simon’s amusement.

“Love, won’t ya talk to me?” he cooed, and you averted your gaze as he peered into your sight. “Please?”

“I’d be down on my knees if I were you,” the siren’s silvery voice made its way to your eyes, and from your peripheral, you noticed him walking toward you. He sat down next to you and extended a clenched fist to the wraith. “Good call stopping by her room, Ghost.”

“Consent is the key,” Simon remarked, making you roll your eyes, and adjust your head on his lap as he bumped his fist with the talking fish.

“Go to hell,” Johnny glowered at the both of them.

“I dunno ‘bout that,” Kyle leaned down on you and ran his fingers along your jaw. You leaned to his touch, watching his lips curve to a satisfied smile before you latched yours onto his. Quickly, he responded, tracing his tongue over your lips and you parted them, to let him in, but your attention was stolen by a thing hovering in the sky, slowly descending.

You pulled away from Kyle, squinting your eyes at the being, and raised your brow upon realization it was John. Ah, right, dragons can fly.

As he neared, the wind began to blow hard, and Kyle pulled you close to him, shielding you from the harsh breeze, which soon died down when the King touched down.

“Gained intel about the party,” Price fished out some papers from his pocket and handed them to his brothers, before dropping to his knees. He picked up your hand and brought your knuckles to his lips. “My Queen.”

“John,” you simply replied and looked over your shoulder, his words about the upcoming party catching your interest, only to watch Johnny frown upon the contents of the paper.

“That leech is coming?” questioned the incubus, raising a brow at the dragon.

“Graves?” you couldn’t help but wonder. As far as you knew, Graves was the only one who got called ‘Leech’ by his fellow monsters.

“A different kind,” Jonathan intervened. “That thing’s more like an octopus.”

Simon threw the paper away. “Fuckin’ tentacles.”

“Well, Graves is also coming,” Kyle answered on their behalves, making you turn your attention back to him. “But he is not who we are concerned about.”

You frowned. “Who, then?”

The siren sighed. “In the deep sea, there are two kingdoms that have always been in bad blood, and war could break out any minute with one wrong move. That’s my kingdom, the Sirens, and the Krakens.” He handed you the paper, letting you read what was written in it. “And their king, famously known as ‘Konig’ is going to attend the party, when he hadn’t been for as long as we didn’t.”

You found the name he mentioned on the paper. “What’s bad about that?”

“He was at your auction,” Johnny fessed and scoffed. “Why would he even go, he didn’t even buy a female this time.”

“Because of her,” Simon nodded at your way. “I have a feeling he got a word about her before we even laid our eyes on her. If Price wasn’t any faster, she would have been . . .” he trailed off.

You sighed and plopped back down on the grass. “What’s new about that? If he was the one with me now—”

“You would have been dead already,” Simon finished.

As though a bucket of cold water had been thrown at you, you froze in your place, his words repeating over and over again in your mind. You had heard of this Konig, before, from the news and Graves, and Simon’s statement wasn’t far off. The King of Krakens was infamous for killing every woman he was with for unknown reasons. As if that wasn’t enough, he was also known for murdering his own men.

He was the embodiment of monstrosity, the pinnacle of all mortals, the horror of every race.

To think that he was there in the crowd just as you were being sold, watching in the shadows, about to get his hands on you, before Price swept in, made your heart hammer against your ribs. And it only led your mind further down into the hole that maybe, you were lucky to be here, after all.

“One more thing,” John spoke, breaking into your reverie, fiddling with your fingers with his rough ones. “The females will have to perform something.”

“Perform?” You echoed in a meek voice, getting uncomfortable with how the conversation was going.

“Yes, it’s like a . . .” He smacked his lips. “Showcase, or to strike a deal, a trade. If a monster happens to like another female than the one he bought, he can trade with another monster. But if the monster is satisfied with the one he’s got, then nothing will—”

You sat up. “You’re not—” You gripped tight on his hand. “You’re not going to trade me, are you?” You gazed into his eyes, your vision slightly blurring at the welling tears, which you fought back by blinking. “I don’t know what kind of performance I can do, I’m not used to crowds, but I’m–I’m beginning to like it here—”

He cut you off, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that burned the air from your lungs.

Stalemate.

Someone will deserve an Oscar. Also, as stated, there will be "scenes" with Konig, and he will be an antagonist for better or worse, along with some other canon characters. If you don't like it, shoo--I mean, feel free to not read, because I don't intend to write him in the way that the readers will like him.

He may be good in my other fanfic, but here? If you are up to, uhm, real like for real real, dub-con/non-con things, then wait for Konig. I guess. But he won't be the end game.

Remember, This is a TF 141 fanfic!

Next Chapter / Archive of Our Own

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[shinedoitsulikeabright]

I love the idea of every god that agreed to free Ody helping him out during 600 strike

Because, let's be honest, as cool as the song is, there is no way in hell a mere mortal could ever do that to Poseidon. I mean, he's on the same power level as Zeus ffs.

So, I like the headcanon that he received divine help. Just imagine:

Zeus finds the whole thing hilarious so he provides thunder and lightning to set the mood and complete the aesthetic. Seriously, his brother is getting tortured with his own trident by a puny human who's taunting him with his own philosophy. It doesn't get any more ironic than that.

Apollo and Hades unknowingly have the same idea; Apollo provides a sick beat while Hades releases those 600 souls from the Underworld so they can be the chorus.

Ares is taking over since Athena is busy recovering. After all, she did promise him bloodshed (plus he already hated his uncle prior to this event due to the whole Alcippe incident).

Hera isn't super keen on Poseidon either (since he too is a serial cheater on his wife) so she just watches in amusement. After Ody says "next to my wife" she just sends Zeus a glare.

Aphrodite sparks that flame of love he feels for his family and comrades in Ody's heart, giving him additional strength.

Hermes and Aeolus are watching from the side, eating popcorn and probably filming it so they can show Athena (and so they can later have blackmail to taunt Poseidon with).

[tiredboogawwo]

Okay so- I know this might be canon inaccurate or may be sort of rewriting some stuff but who cares because the wiki said there were multiple previous elemental masters

I haven't figured out a name yet (allowing suggestions) but I created this guy! He's the elemental master of ice who comes two people before Zane

Basically I made a canon reason to explain more indepth what happened with the whole ice emperor thing. In this idea/au elemental masters often share similarities with those before them. It can be genetic, emotional, or even life-wise. Soooo story time:

This character was often alone most of his life until he was given his ice element and met the other elemental masters. Ninjago often tackles themes of fate or sees things as predestined (Lloyd being the green ninja, constant visions, ect.) 

This character was seen by fate to turn 'evil'. While their sensei tried to keep it hidden in order to protect him in due time it came to light. He was shocked and horrified that he would become like the very monsters he fought, and the other elementals were distained. How could their friend, their brother do something so horrible?? They casted him aside and told him to 'give you element to someone who's worthy.' 

Before their Sensei could talk to him, he left. No home and no family to turn to, he only had his element. He cursed fate, he cursed his powers, yet never was he able to hate those who he called a family. He trapped himself in his hate and self pity, creating a neverending blizzard. (Birchwood Forest) This inevitably caused people to have to move, or be inflicted with serious illness.

He surrounded himself with nothing but cold, hardly a ninja nor an emperor. Years he sustained himself in that way until a voice asked him "Why do you only blame yourself, is it not the others who pushed you to this?" Days would go by and he'd reply the same "I can only hold fate responsible" until he couldn't anymore. He didn't harbour rage torwards them, but it was an empty feeling. All consuming until there was nothing more of him. 

Left with nothing, left all alone in his self made blizzard, he asked himself one final thought as the man he used to be. "Why should I hold their opinions so dear, when my emotions mean so little?"

And so he left, his resolution iron and his will frozen, like the cold he had always known.

....and that's all I have right now! This is sort of my "fix it but also mess things up" this is meant to expand on a few things: 

1) Zane becoming the ice emperor, despite it being manipulation it all felt too easy for me, just because he lost his memories doesn't mean he'd instantly be okay with Vex's plans. I feel like this idea expands on it as more of a spiritual thing, like he was connecting with a past user.

2) Wu's kinda favoritism towards Zane, I get why but stilllll, dude definitely picks favorites. Maybe after what happened with the past ice master he learned to be more attentive to his students.

3) Not really an explanation but I thought the connection to Birchwood Forest would make it more interesting, plus it could explain those tree monsters

Some doods!

(context uhh idk if I want to add the scrolls into his lore because then I'll have to take some giant logic leaps)

These will prolly change in due time but yeah! That's the idea

[lethalbutterfly]

Several months before the election, my boss, a Trump supporter, was saying something about how the 2020 election was rigged, Trump only lost because "they" (presumably just a general sense of conspiratorial authoritarian democrats in government?) gave all the mail-in ballots to Biden.

And my response to this was something along the lines of "Even if that were true, what do you propose we do about it? I hate to say it, but if you can't trust the process by which votes are counted, then you don't actually believe in democracy. There's no place to go from there other than having you personally count the votes yourself, or to just not have elections altogether."

My position on this is that the make-or-break issue for me this election was weather or not Democracy should exist. There were plenty of other reasons why I voted for Kamala, but that one was the most important. Trump said during a rally he would "fix it so you don't have to vote anymore" he said during the debate that he still does not accept the results of the previous election. There was one party actively advertising themselves as disestablishing the checks and balances of our government as they have been done 2016, and going on to promise rigged elections, and they've laid plenty of groundwork for it:

Gerrymandering favors the republican party in most places. Statistically, the higher the voter turnout, the greater the margin democrats win by. In the entire >300 year history of our government, there have been only 3 times that the electoral vote has disagreed with the popular vote- ALL THREE times in favor of the republican party (granted their platform was drastically different back in 1876 when it benefited Hayes, they weren't the insane racist maniacs they are today, the fact that the other 2/3rds of this deeply anomalous occurrence happened within the most recent 25 years of our country's existence is another anomaly in and of itself). And last but not least, the same sentiment echoed by my boss in the wake of the 2020 election, the conspiracy that the votes themselves simply cannot be trusted, which is difficult to argue and disprove without intimate specialized knowledge of how votes are counted, and which makes it very easy for someone who lost the vote to forcibly claim the presidency, if there's widespread sentiment that he didn't REALLY lose despite what the numbers say.

What I'm trying to build up to here is that, since I positioned free elections as my #1 issue for this election, I cannot very well go around and claim that the election is wrong, can I? I wish it were a mistake. The world would be better off if it were a mistake, but there's no evidence for that, and trying to delegitimize the election is the strategy used by those who don't want there to be elections at all. Or at least don't want elections to be heeded. Was the election fair? No. There was voter suppression and disenfranchisement just like there always is, but it was out in the open, just like it always is, not in privately stuffed ballots or secretly hacked machines. We can fight against the unfairness of the election by trying to reduce or eliminate gerrymandering and the electoral college in favor of a popular vote, and by supporting ranked choice voting, but fighting for those goals is going to be extremely difficult when the presidency (and the Supreme Court for that matter) is held by the party whose power is cemented by those things.

Maybe it won't be for everyone, but it has been a small solace to me that this is the will of the American people, and not a miscarriage of justice carried out by a fully rigged system. It was not the decision of oligarchs that there should not be a democracy, but democratically elected that there should not be a democracy (ironic).

And before anyone reading this gives into Despair at the way I'm phrasing this, I would like to add something else:

I have several friends who are both more politically minded and just generally more intelligent than I, and they belive that, in spite of Trump's campaign promises to the contrary, there WILL still be an election in 2028. He will, most likely, not be able to get so far as fully abolishing elections in a single term. It will be an election less fair than what we just went through, more people are going to be disenfranchised depending on how much of Project2025/Agenda47 gets passed. And I know that the mere existence of voting in 4 years being considered a victory is setting the bar so low it's a tripping hazard in hell. But it is not unrecoverable. In 2020, we turned Georgia and Nevada blue. Trump voters are going to feel betrayed when their grocery prices are driven further up by deregulation and inflation. This election teaches us that regardless of who is really responsible for the hardships of Americans, most voters will simply blame whatever party is in charge at the time.

It's going to take a lot more work, but it's possible.

(I myself regret not doing more to send out calls and texts for the campaign, speak up against misinformation, and just monetarily donate tbh. I intend to do these things when 2028 rolls around, as well as look for other opportunities along the way.)

If your democrat friends start muttering about stolen election conspiracy theories, the time to have a sit down with them and express your concerns is NOW, while you still have a chance to reach them, not 6 months from now when they're fully conspiracy-pilled.

Here's some of the talking points and why they're bullshit:

'10 million votes don't just disappear!' -> Joe Biden's 81 million votes were a statistical outlier, sparked by the recent experience of the Trump presidency. The democrats failed to maintain that sense of urgency, but Harris still got more votes than Hillary Clinton, more than Obama and more than any previous democratic candidate. These numbers are not weird at all.

'The Republicans tried to infiltrate election- and vote counting organizations!' -> yeah, they did, and yet hundreds of independent legal observers didn't see anything go wrong enough to raise any alarms. Independent exit polls are also very consistently similar to the counted votes. Tons of international organizations specialized in this stuff observed the election and didn't see a reason to raise the alarm.

'But I know a dozen democrats whose mail-in votes were not counted!' -> In any election a certain number of votes are registered as invalid because something was wrong with the ballot. In a country the size of the US, that translates to many thousands of votes. The internet allows these people to find each other, creating the false impression that a suspiciously large group of voted was not valid.

'Musk used Star Link to mess with electronic voting!' -> Electronic voting machines are not connected to the internet and dozens of independent media have already debunked this myth. It is absolutely impossible to use Star Link to fake election results.

'There is voter disenfranchisement!' -> This is true. This has always been true, for every election. It's an issue worth talking about but it's not a special secret conspiracy that's unique to this election.

But just as importantly as the facts: sit down with your friend and talk about the anxiety that's behind their conspiracy leanings. Acknowledge their pain and fear. Help them find ways to feel less powerless and regain their sense of agency. Take them to a mutual aid event, involve them in a fundraising event for a marginalized group, invite them to a local community effort. If they spend more time feeling connection and empowerment and less time doom scrolling online, they're far more likely to stay in reality.

[unrelentingforse]

arcane is a political statement (ACT 1 S2 SPOILERS)

whether you like it or not - reality DOES AFFECT THE ART. the art depicts the reality. i will not debate this.

coming back to arcane - it is political. the whole story is based on the oppression of the poor and the corruption of the rich. many times it showed that the whole system is flawed. that it exploits vulnerable people despite their social and political status.

we've seen this with jayce and mel, caitlyn and ambessa, zaunites and shimmer, jinx and silco. all of them were manipulated to achieve certain goals by those who hold the real power. and the results are atrocious.

jayce has expelled the founder of piltover from the council and created hextech weapons, caitlyn has started a war against zaunites, zaunites have become disabled and addicted because of the production of shimmer, jinx has blown up the council.

none of those actions have led to something positive or beneficial for either of the cities. it only benefitted the individual people who hold the power and needed someone else to do their dirty work. (silco doesn't really apply here because right before this went down he died)

i want to talk about caitlyn kiramman specifically here.

in my previous post i talked about how cait never really deconstructed the way she thinks about those who are in a different class than her. she was TAUGHT to hate zaunites. to see them as less than. but she was a rebellious child and became fascinated with the IDEA of zaun. so she tried her hardest to talk to them, to get into zaun, to see how the live. later in life all she felt was pity for them.

she didn't suddenly become a progressive leftist that people are trying to paint her as - she simply was attracted to vi. yes, she was making an exception for her. she liked vi and that made her a little more accepting towards vi's hatred for enforcers. but she still saw her as someone who has lost their way and needs help from a strong and powerful piltover citizen who happens to be the heir of the most influential house of the city. white savior complex - i'm talking about it.

caitlyn asked vi to join the enforcers thinking about her as if she's a piltover citizen. someone who has NO reasons to hate the oppressive force of enforcers. and then was faced with the reality - vi "would rather die alone" than associate herself with people who have been poisoning, murdering, torturing and holding an apartheid. to people like her - poor people from zaun.

of course she would not get this desicion - why would she? she never had to experience the oppression so she doesn't have ANY idea why vi didn't agree to her proposition. to caitlyn - she was kind enough to ask a wretched poor person from zaun to leave her past behind and start oppressing people who she grew up with. because in her mind anyone would like this opportunity to have such tremendous amount of power.

caitlyn fundamentally doesn't comprehend the struggles of people below her status. and this is the reason why she agreed to become a fascist dictator. she thinks they're all the same - violent animals who need to be exterminated. and she is happy to do it herself. she abused the ventilation system her mother built to give fresh air to people of the undercity and gassed them with "the gray". she straight up commited a WAR CRIME. she was willing to take the chance of shooting isha just to kill jinx. she was not trying to stop the ongoing crisis between piltover and zaun, she was getting HER revenge.

yes, she is grieving the loss of her mother. yes, she has A TON of responsibilities now that her mother is dead. yes, she has never experienced a major loss in her life. i am not denying her right to be miserable and sad during this time. and i am not saying that she has no reasons to be angry at jinx. what i am saying is that her background is making her grief destructive to everyone around her. not a single person from zaun has done anything of this scale to people of piltover. not a single one of them will be protected if they do the same. jinx tried to - now she's on the run.

all of this - is a MAJOR parallel to our life. the way we treat Palestinians, Native Americans, Lebanese and Sudanese people on their own land is the exact same way caitlyn treats people from the undercity. apartheid, poisoning the water and food, killing innocents, invasion - this is happening right now on our planet. but we're supposed to get mad at an animated show and not in real life.

hope i made you think about something. thanks for reading it all the way through.

[al-luviec]

zane + nya parallels

[loveguts]

i’m not a transandrophobia truther in the slightest don’t get me wrong, but i think some people on here really need to realize and comprehend the fact that cis women, way WAY more often than not, hold extremely significant social and political power over trans men the vast majority of the time in our day to day lives

[downinsomanyfandoms]

Just a rant beneath the cut. I know what I type in some section cough brid cough looks slashy and maybe it does, but it’s very brief and mainly for studying the lizard with my lab coat. Mostly incoherent because it’s 2AM, running on 3 hours of sleep because my sleep cycle is fucked so it fizzled out toward the end

See this is why I have a love/hate relationship with how Ryuuga was portrayed in Fury. On one hand, by the time of Metal Masters he already achieved this status of being a goddamn force of nature. Like a tornado, forest fire, natural disasters that acts as the equalizer to all the things around him, and it aligned with the protagonists’ goals at the time because it also aligned with his personal goal of taking revenge/responsibilities for his past. He knew the fact that he was the strongest through arrogance because he worked his ass off for that strength and it’s absolutely deserved and isn’t bothered much to correct anyone about it or to prove it. Ryuuga is all revolved around strength and survival with a spec of fun dictating his course. The ultimate tool should it be used the in right hand if you will. And that’s why he’s seen as a weapon more than a human by literally everyone, Kenta (at least at first) included. Dangerous (brid), a force to be reckon with (Gingka’s group), extremely useful (Kenta), a stupid investment to pour on of it turned out to be a failed project (Doji). None of them can see the more gentle, quiet sides of his, both because internally they already put him on a pedestal away from humanity, and because he actively shed it away because those sides of his aren’t necessarily to show due to the solidarity lifestyle he led. The thing he values the most is the conviction you have to gains and maintain your power. And it’s, the trap, because you will be trapped into putting him on a god-like pedestal too, includes myself

Which is why his relapsed back into one power-hungry one dimensional jackass who would went out of his way to turn everyone’s day upside down instead of being just, a natural storm that obliterate everything in his path simply because it’s on his path, is so infuriating. Masters!Ryuuga would not give a shit about obtaining star fragments and boost his strength and effectively taking shortcuts like eating foods out of hand from the sky. Masters!Ryuuga would laugh at it in the face, maybe give a middle finger if he has any fuck left to give, and then destroy it just to prove a point. Because he’s incredibly drive by power that determined his survival with a spec of fun.

He relapsed anyway, because he’s not a prefect god who you anthropomorphized and project onto in your head, he’s human. And a human make dumb, stupid mistake such as being able to see the faults but wouldn’t be able to save oneself, and human makes stupid, dumb mistakes all the time despite how one is already aware and had gone through it before. And it’s humanizing. And from then on the show reminded you that Ryuuga is just one withered, dried up sponge of a human being that crave for connection just like any other human would like OP had put but with spikes as a bonus and that connection can only be established through strength. Big events such as traumas and abuses Doji put him through back in Fusion changed him and had him developed this antagonist side as self-defense mechanism, something that can only be filled down by a tiny bit and spoken through if you can actually be a hardheaded mtf who’s also a useless ray of goddamn sunshine that wants nothing more than to be able to communicate to him on the same level and prove its worth (love you Kenta).

And I eat that shit up, any human connection he has really, be it positive to hydrate his withered humanity where he learns to be tolerance and how to care once again(Kenta), or on neutral ground where he found solace and trust in the predictable through shared pain (Tsubasa), or antagonistic that flayed away at him and the scarred over wounds until it show all his ugliness out to the world (Doji), not objectively transactional like alliance with Gingka’s team. Because he speak through fights and power that earns and worth.

Ryuuga is the chicken that crossed the road because he wants to cross the road to get to the other side. Fuck you. Does he get hit by the car (Rago) and stayed there? Or did he successfully crossed it and continue on to another road? Who tf know. All I know is the arc that both Kenta and Ryuuga went through is brilliant, only second to Tsubasa’s dark power arc. On another hand, before encountering Doji and Rago, the Ryuuga I know would NOT act like that 😩

I think about that scene where kenta passes out and ryuga just kind of waits there for him to wake up a lot. As much shit as I talk about metal fury, I think it did a lot of justice to ryuga's character, and that scene is a pretty good example of how.

A lot of the reason ryuga is Like That is as a result of being constantly treated like a god by everyone around him (hell in the manga I'm pretty sure he was one). As the series goes on you can see him becoming more and more detached from humanity, and I get the vibe that's because he starts to consider himself less and less human. By metal fury he's practically become a totally asocial creature--but when this annoying little kid starts following around, he still can't bring himself to leave him for dead. Kenta's persistence in trying to overpower him was probably the most social interaction he'd had since Fusion, and I think that connection started to pry open the obscene amount of boundaries he'd set up by then. I think that little bit of prolonged and not-immedietly-hostile company restored a little bit of humanity in him. Just moisturized the fuck outta those dry humanity sponge capsules in his heart. Idk. Found family but instead of a wholesome loving dynamic it's an evil codependent hateful version of your older brother who shoots you with his bb gun.

[fagmegumi]

i know I should focus on writing and not poke hornets nests but. though saionji haters of the “i dont care about him & dont wanna hear about him” variety are completely valid . If you for real think saionji is a villain the way akio is a villain. you completely missed the point of the show

[musical-chick-13]

.

[leatherbookmark]

i had op blocked so ray’s rebloggathon was tragically Absent from my dash but now that i caught up, *hyeju voice* el oh el

[hollowflight-propaganda]

I agree with those points! The fandom (and let's be honest, just about every fandom at large) has a misogyny problem, you can see it with how Moon is said to be a "mary sue," but then Darkstalker, who has literally all the powers he possibly could, is agreed to be an interesting and complex villain. Or how people will jump at a chance to talk about how Glory and Tsunami have occasionally had mean streaks before, only to ignore how Starflight has also been kinda an asshole at times.

(I have no notes on how book 15 treated Sky because I don't remember anything about him in there)

And with the last point I get where you're coming from. As a nonbinary person I'm really sick of the way us and trans men are stereotyped. Ultimately, I think this topic at large requires some nuance, because on face value I see no issues with someone headcanoning Sky as either of these. But if I then saw that Sky is the only character in the whole series that this hypothetical person headcanons that way, then that'd feel kinda iffy. This is why I think it's best to ask yourself why you even want to headcanon a character that way in the first place. I headcanon Blue as nonbinary simply because I see myself in them and it makes me feel even more connected to their character, but I know somebody else could have the same headcanon because Blue is a more docile and sweet character. I think it all comes down to the person's intentions, of which there's some good and bad out there.

Anyway, I think those are pretty valid reasons for disliking him. I think people are allowed to not like him (hell, I really had no opinion on him until I started to see Those Takes), I just have problems with the people who say they hate him only because he's "too childish" or whatever the fuck.

I'm going to become the #1 Sky fan out of nothing but pure spite if I see even one more baseless take about how he's "an infantilizing stereotype" or "written like a toddler." Sorry guys, wof fandom says that if you're a generally cheerful person and/or you like little animals you're essentially a toddler 😔

I was ranting to a mutual about this yesterday, and I think that it hit the nail on the head by saying, "As someone who gets really excited about small things seeing that as childish is literally part of the problem."

Adults can and are able to like "childish" things. Adults can and are able to be optimists. Disabled people aren't "acting like toddlers" if they fall into either or both of these categories. People are allowed to enjoy life however they want, and it's not up to you to decide if they're acting like how they "should" be.

I think that even talking this way about a fictional character can have harmful consequences. It's already hard enough for people to feel like they can express themselves, but if we talk about things like this and immediately equate it to toddler behavior then it'll just make things harder.

I saw a cardinal outside when I got home today. I gasped in delight upon seeing it and talked to it for a moment, and that's because I just always enjoy seeing animals whenever I can. I'm also aroace and nonbinary, so if I was a fictional character would I be an infantilizing stereotype of those groups? Apparently a good chunk of the wof fandom thinks so, because it would be wrong to headcanon Sky as such according to them.

And honestly, I can relate to Sky on the basis of having had a sheltered upbringing. A lot of the time I feel like I'm a lot younger than I am and that I'm out of my depth due to it. Maybe it's not Tui's intention, but seeing Sky being allowed to be himself brings me some joy. And I'm sick and tired of people acting like the mere existence of this side character is a sin because he's touch too silly for them.

[the-13th-rose]

Yeah I was gonna reblog that post about how kids are a huge commitment and it shouldn't be seen as the default to make that decision because you can't just change your mind later

Then I looked and the blog was like "actually oppressed men are shit too and anyone who argues against gender essentialism is a patriarchy-supporting coward" and I ran so fast