#so i guess that was when he was supposed to live with me

[kateschi]

back in action

synopsis: being the wife of bakugou katsuki comes with multiple benefits, one of which is a front-row seat to his scrumptious back.

pairing: timeskip!bakugou katsuki x f!reader

⊹ ࣪ ˖ notes: i know at least 2/3 of you have seen that figurine

you swear there’s no better sight in this world than katsuki bakugou’s back.

not the view from your honeymoon suite in santorini, not the sparkling ocean from your vacation in okinawa—hell, not even the perfect strawberry shortcake you baked last weekend.

no, none of that compares to the sheer beauty that is your husband’s ridiculously broad, wonderfully sculpted, unfairly muscular back.

the way his muscles shift under his skin when he moves? art.

the ripple of strength as he stretches? divine.

the faint sheen of sweat glistening on his shoulders after an intense workout? a masterpiece.

and, as if the gods of attractiveness hadn’t blessed him enough, the scars that mark his skin only add to his allure.

each one tells a story of battles fought and won, of heroism that the world praises but he humbly shrugs off. to you, those scars aren’t just symbols of strength—they’re proof of his resilience, his dedication, his heart.

so, yes. you are absolutely obsessed with your husband’s back, and no, you don’t care how shameless that makes you.

“katsuki,” you call from the couch, chin propped up on your hands as you shamelessly watch him rummage through the fridge.

he’s in nothing but a pair of loose sweatpants, the waistband hanging dangerously low on his hips, and his shirt? nowhere to be found.

a completely intentional choice on his part, because he knows exactly how weak you are for him like this. “did anyone ever tell you that you’ve got the best back in the entire universe?”

he pauses, a carton of orange juice in one hand and an eyebrow raised in your direction. “you tell me that every damn day.”

“well, I mean it every damn day.”

he rolls his eyes but doesn’t bother hiding the faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “you’re such a weirdo.”

“damn right,” you shoot back, grinning when he snorts. “come here. let me look at it properly.”

“what, my back?” his expression is one part exasperation, two parts amusement as he shuts the fridge and leans against the counter, arms crossed. “the hell do you need to ‘look’ at it for?”

“because it’s a work of art, obviously,” you say, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “and I haven’t had my daily dose of admiring you yet.”

he groans, dragging a hand down his face like you’re the most exhausting person on the planet, but he still walks over to you without another word. you can tell he’s secretly enjoying this, though.

“alright, idiot. knock yourself out.” he turns around, presenting you with the full, glorious view of his back.

your eyes immediately light up. “oh my god, it’s perfect.”

“it’s a back,” he deadpans.

“no, no, no. it’s the back,” you insist, reaching out to lightly trace your fingers along the curve of his shoulder blades.

he tenses slightly under your touch—his body always reacts before his mind can catch up—but quickly relaxes as you continue your impromptu “admiration session.”

“you’ve got no idea how unfair this is,” you mumble, running your hands down the defined lines of his lats. “how am I supposed to focus on anything when you look like this?”

“you’re ridiculous.” he’s shaking his head, but you can hear the way his voice softens, the way the edges of his usual gruffness smooth out when he talks to you like this.

it’s a few days later, and you're lounging on the couch, flicking through your phone when you hear him coming from the hallway, the sound of his footsteps heavy and deliberate.

katuski’s been in the gym for a couple of hours, and you can already hear the deep exhale he lets out as he moves closer, his breath still heavy from the workout.

"guess who's back," you say, looking up just in time to see him walking into the living room, wearing only a towel around his waist, his body glistening with sweat from his workout.

he pauses for a moment when he sees your face—wide-eyed and full of admiration, already zeroing in on that perfect, chiseled back. his muscles tense as he moves, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

"really?" he says, voice dripping with disbelief. "you still on about this?"

“can’t help it,” you say, setting your phone aside and leaning back against the cushions, fully prepared to watch him, unashamed. "I’m just amazed that someone like you exists in the world."

katuski rolls his eyes, but there's a soft chuckle that escapes him, betraying his indifference. "yeah, well, quit starin'."

"I can’t help it," you reply, your voice a playful purr as you look him up and down. "I mean, who else looks this good after a workout?"

he tilts his head to the side, his signature scowl starting to form, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

“quit actin’ like I’m some kinda showpiece, alright?” he grumbles, though you can hear the lighthearted edge to his voice.

you laugh, clearly enjoying yourself too much. "sorry, can’t help it.”

later that week, you and katuski are out on patrol, both suited up in your respective hero uniforms.

it's business as usual—rescuing civilians, stopping some petty criminals, and making sure the city is safe.

the sun’s setting, painting the skyline in beautiful oranges and purples, but you're still laser-focused on one thing: his back.

it's a total accident—really, it is—but when you're standing next to him after you’ve just subdued a villain, you can't help but sneak a glance at the broad expanse of his back.

you feel that familiar pull to reach out, to trace the powerful lines of his shoulder blades again.

“don’t even think about it,” he warns, his voice low and gruff as he catches the glint of mischief in your eyes.

you smile innocently, taking a step closer. "what? I was just going to—"

"not here. we’re in the damn public," katuski growls, his sharp gaze snapping to yours as his fingers tighten around his gauntlet. "you really think I’m gonna let you paw at me in front of everyone?"

you laugh, unbothered by his obvious annoyance. "I’m not pawing at you, I’m admiring you. there's a difference, katsuki."

his jaw tightens as he glares at you, his usual frown deepening. "that’s the same damn thing."

you can’t help but grin, even though he’s clearly not having it.

but, deep down, you know that katuski secretly loves it. sure, he’s tough and grumpy in front of the public, but you both know how soft he gets when you're alone, how he indulges you without hesitation.

so, you take one last daring step forward, placing a hand on his shoulder, letting your fingers brush along the fabric of his uniform.

he’s about to bark at you to stop, but you just flash him a quick, mischievous grin, and that’s all it takes for him to roll his eyes, muttering under his breath, "unbelievable."

and katsuki was right in his reprimand cause you were breaking the headlines the very next day.

for all the wrong reasons.

kofi — navigation — masterlist

do not copy, translate, or plagarize

[makismei]

❝ ALL YOU EVER WANTED FROM ME WAS SWEET NOTHING!

⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪ geto x f!reader

cw: fwb to lovers, college!au suggestive content, modern! au, fluff, minor angst, MEN YEARNING, failing out of college, reader needs academic validation to live apparently

synopsis: he’ll love you, just as you are— even if you’re too soft for the world, he’ll gladly be your shield

suguru’s in love with you. it’s no secret.

as you lay on his chest, sweat slicked skin on skin, suguru wishes this pre arranged arrangement was more— he wishes you’d let him in, so he could love you more.

he tries, really. he wants to know you. anything about you.

at this point, he knows your body like the back of his hand. but your favourite colour? no idea. he would guess pink, but that’s only because you own a lot of pink tops.

you like sweets. recently, you’ve garnered a fascination for mochi donuts.

but all this information has come from his observant nature— you’ve never opened up to him, except for that one time, when you cried in his arms, seeking connection, another person’s warmth.

that was also the day you became friends with benefits.

whenever he tries to conduct a mini interview on you, you shut him out, telling him he doesn’t need to know those things.

he knows that you know he loves you.

he’s said it one too many times, when he’s most vulnerable, buried in you. but not once has he heard it back.

but it’s okay. he has a feeling that you’re starting to fall in love with him too.

you’ve started telling him about your day, as well as extremely vague plans for the next. suguru know he’s grasping at air, but he swears he can feel it in his hands.

“can we try?” he whispers, uncertain. to tell you the truth— suguru, as suave and handsome and perfect as he is, isn’t immune to insecurity. girls throw themselves at his feet, but he couldn’t care less because they’re not you.

you sit up. your warmth leaving him shatters his heart.

his room, air humid with sweat and sex, suddenly feels icy. but he gazes longingly at your back, at the scars on your elbows that probably have stories behind them— stories he craves so desperately to know.

“what’s so bad about it?” he continues, “is it me?”

“don’t ask stupid questions,” you retort. but he hears a shaky breath leave your lips, quiet cries filling the room.

he sits up, hand on your back. “look at me.”

he’s got you.

you shake your head, mindlessly bringing a finger to your lips, picking at the dead skin— a nervous tick.

“don’t do that,” suguru says, fingers cupping your jaw, gently turning your head so he can see your face. his thumb runs along your poor bottom lip, catching blood on his finger.

“i get overwhelmed easily,” you mutter, eyes glancing down in shame, “i shut people out when i feel too vulnerable and i’m mean.”

he huffs a laugh, thumb brushing against your cheekbone. “you’re protecting yourself and that’s okay.”

“i’m a shut-in, i don’t like leaving the house and i’m not romantic at all.” you continue and he nods, gaze never faltering.

“you like shoujo anime. especially the episodes with trips or big events.” he whispers, watching you pout. how cute, he thinks, like a petulant child who just wants to be noticed.

a tear streams down your cheek, wetting his thumb as he tries to wipe them away, but it’s like rainfall, so he lets you feel it out.

“i failed out of college,” you voice breaks, “the only thing i was supposed to be good at.”

you’re sobbing, head down in shame and suguru just pulls you into his arms. he rubs a hand soothingly up and down your back, heart absolutely shattering at the sounds of your cries.

“your failures don’t define you,” he mutters, “you’re still smart, capable and hard working. that doesn’t change.”

you pull away, staring him in the face and suguru thinks you’re so beautiful, so vulnerable in a way he hasn’t seen before.

“how do you know?” you sniffle, “you don’t know anything about me.”

he smiles, nodding. suguru wipes your tears, “i wonder why.”

you click your tongue, mustering a glare that holds absolutely no malice. he breathes a quiet laugh, “you’d bend over backwards for your so-called friends, even though none of them realize what you’re going through right now.”

“i don’t want them to know.” you refute.

“i bet you didn’t want me to know either,” he chastises, but it’s soft and his hands are so warm. “but i know now, because you’re important to me. i don’t want you to go through it all alone.”

you’re still glaring, but the crease between your brows have softened. “do you have a saviour complex?”

he shakes his head, “just a thing for damsels in distress, i guess.”

you pinch his arm. he takes your hand and it brings it to his lips. you feel warmth flood your body, but you don’t know if you deserve it.

“what if this ends up being the worst decision you’ll ever make?” you whisper and it’s the first time he’s heard you sound so insecure.

suguru cups your face in his hands, long black hair framing his face. his hair is so long that it tickles your skin, what would your parents say, when you bring home a guy with hair this long?

you can’t find it in you to care, because you know this guy loves you wholeheartedly. you don’t even know what you did to deserve it.

“it won’t be.” and it’s resolute, “haven’t i told you enough? that i love you?”

you nod slowly, tears finally drying.

he leans in, lips brushing against yours. “i’ll put in the work to make you believe me, to trust me.”

you laugh, “you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into.”

you realize here and now, that out of everyone in your life so far, suguru is the only one who doesn’t ask anything of you. he just loves you and it feels unbelievable.

suguru laughs, his forehead touching yours. “i should be telling you that.”

manga panel from my love story with yamada-kun at lv999 ^.^

[astracora]

Turning Point - Part 3

Characters: Poly!LADs x gn!mc

Warnings: Hurt/Comfort, Injuries, Angst, Loss of Arm, Lots of emotional struggle with disability.

Word Count: 3811

Written: 5th January 2025

Notes: Pre-relationship with gn!MC with all LADs, with my personal pov of the game and lil headcanons littered in. Unnamed MC, but using my personal MC's basic appearance and adjusted backstory. I take some liberties with what the game offers me. I'm not going to go into every detail of adapting to a prosthetic, there's a lot of stages. For anyone curious, MC uses a multi-grip prosthetic, that relies on electric signals from their residual limb to help communicate movement, using a specialised (fantasy) metal because it's adapted for their job. Also the general adaptive time for one can be up to a year, (even longer depending on how much it needs adjusting and how much active support you have). I'm cutting it down to six months overall (though they continue to learn better ways to use it going forwards). On account of the LADs world having stuff like... AI Robots that can have a conversation with you in the streets, and magic powers. I don't know how long this will be, or how many parts. I have a horrifying number of notes... I guess we'll see how long I can go before my brain shuts down.

Now Playing: The Line, by Twenty One Pilots

Masterlist AO3

<- Previous Next ->

You spend the next few days going through the motions.

You exist where you should be striving, and you breathe where you know you're supposed to laugh.

It's empty, but the angry beast in your heart doesn't snap and growl and howl. Demanding blood as recompense for an existence you cannot justify.

Looking in a mirror has become… difficult, so when you brush your teeth, or wash your face, too stubborn to let anyone help when your hand trembles, and you spill your things on the floor. You stare down. At the floor, as you go through motions you know like the back of your scarred hand.

There are moments when life bubbles up, but it is short and it is tired and you only feel it when you have others around you to bring it out. To ease life back into a hand that's become a claw. Smoothing the stretching torn skin, and tending to broken nails.

You go through the motions, because they wait for you on the other side of the door. If you cannot live for you, you will always live for others.

Sometimes it is all you can do, to motivate your broken heart to beat one more day.

Zayne comes with you to the hospital, to check in with your specialist. A warm older woman, who reminds you too much of Gran to not make you feel like you're seeing ghosts. It's a feeling mixed with guilt, and a small amount of fear. Unbidden but lurking. Everytime she, Meredith, touches you, an ache sparks in your heart.

A memory like static hits you, and you have to steady your breath and your heart with a firm hand before you can resume listening.

If you can even be said to be listening.

You're checked over, made sure that your injuries haven't been made worse by your isolation and lack of care. You're lucky, you're told. That someone found you, that they came to you, brought you back to the hospital.

You want to snap back that luck doesn't tear your arm from your shoulder.

That you're not lucky. You're not brave.

You're not anything.

Zayne is commended for his sutures, and his quick care, he barely responds, hand firmly in your one. Squeezing, loosening his grip, squeezing. Self comforting himself as much as he is comforting you. You return the gesture, staring out the window. Trying to take yourself somewhere else. Somewhere without white walls, and terrible motivational posters.

Somewhere where this ghost of your grandma isn't hovering over you. Where you're not hearing talk about next steps.

Somewhere warm maybe.

His hand grounds you, keeps you tethered. Part of you wants to release and let yourself float, the other is scared to disappear into the clouds without him. So you stay, and you hold on. Like you're a balloon he keeps around his wrist.

"Let's check your prosthetic fit. It will need adjustments going forwards as you learn to use it."

Static.

You're somewhere in the room, staring at yourself as you nod, a hand on your shoulder as your shirt buttons are loosened. As straps are pulled and tightened around skin. Even half aware they feel raw. Itching and burning against you.

Unwanted. Unwelcome.

It's a distant pair of eyes that gaze at the limb fitted into place, staring at the metal. You blink finally. Clearing your head to look. Just… look.

"Comfortable?"

You think back to the bathroom with Rafayel. His gentle hands soothing dirt from your skin, and his eyes glowing as they look at you. You think to a gentle hand stroking your head as you fall into sleep, starry blue eyes watching you carefully. You think about a crow bringing you snacks, of red eyes watching you warmly over a bowl. You think about a doctor's hand in yours, easing the scars over, like you've done to his.

You think about the pieces of you twisted and bunched and stuffed under skin that fits too tight. You think about the pain of waking up every morning now. Of avoiding your own gaze in the mirror.

You think of a limb you can still see the metal piercing through.

You aren't sure how to answer her. Too many things bundled up in your head, struggling to filter and file and understand which is which.

Zayne gives a gentle tug, looks down at you, forest eyes glimmering. Absently you think you see fear, like you're going to disappear, if he lets you go. Float away on a weak breeze.

It should shame you. Feeling this weak.

You're just so tired.

When he speaks, he soothes with his thumb, pressing into skin and drawing the infinity sign against you, "Is it rubbing painfully anywhere?" He clarifies the question.

The noise filters back a little, giving you a direct pathway to your answer, "The straps. They hurt."

The doctor nods to herself, she writes notes down and adjusts them. "They'll soften over use, you'll need to clean them weekly at least, leather conditioner can help ease the initial discomfort."

The raw rubbing softens a little, still too hyper aware of the feeling, you twitch away from her when she adjusts where the metal and sheath touches your skin. "Does it hurt?"

"No. Your hands are cold."

Her laugh reminds you of Gran too, and you can feel the walls getting closer. You have to hold it together. You have to keep it together.

You can't break down here. You can't. You have to be stronger than this.

It's like there's a lump in your throat. A feeling like you're going to be sick, maybe cry. Maybe both.

You can't be weak here.

"Can we take a minute, Doctor Rin?" Zayne asks, voice calm but cool. Like he isn't really asking, like it's a formality. Respect for someone who knows how to help you.

She leans back and nods, "Of course." She looks over at you and smiles, and it's too warm and kind to not make you flinch back, "Take a few minutes outside."

You can't respond because the lump in your throat is rising.

Don't cry.

With a steady hand on your back, Zayne leads you away from the room, steering you through the corridors of Akso. Out into the courtyards. Where it's quiet. Where no one can watch as you finally crack.

As you gulp, and cover your mouth. Trying to force it down as you hiccup and gasp.

There's a burning in your shoulder, everytime you feel the brush of metal, the chill through the sheath. You feel the cool straps, refusing to take your body heat. You reach up with your hand to pull them off but a hand takes yours. Holds it, as another releases the buckles. Removes the offending thing.

Gently. Carefully. Reverently.

He places it down on a bench, then pulls you closer. Rubbing warm circles into your shoulder and skin through your shirt. You cling to his, trembling until the feeling eases out. Relieved from your confines.

From the woman who brings ghosts to your door.

From the memories of ice cold pain and scorching blood.

"What do you need?"

You shake your head. Too much. You want this nightmare to be over. You want to wake up and things be easier. You want things you can't have.

You want to feel strong. Brave. Complete.

A hand, cool to the touch but accompanied by a warm gaze, turns your head. Looking up, as he wipes tears that have escaped against your will. "Do you want another doctor?"

Yes. No.

Maybe?

The ghost of Gran scares you as much as she comforts you.

Meredith Rin is top of her field. You know that. Logically it makes no sense, to turn down the woman who can have your back, get you through this.

If you want to move forward, you have to try. You have to.

"No." You choke out, shaking your head in his grasp, leaning into his palm, "No."

He seems relieved, face relaxing a little, "Very well, I've read her recommendations, testimonies from patients. I trust her abilities."

If he trusts her, you think you can too. You trust him right now, more than you can ever hope to trust yourself. Scared of ghosts and monsters lurking in the shadows.

Scared of yourself.

"Do you want to go home?"

Yes. You do. You do. You want to be anywhere but the hospital. You're so very tired of hospitals.

It is the feeling of fatigue. The feeling of knowing the corridors better than you want to. Of knowing the faces of the doctors. Of knowing the other patients who visit frequently.

It is not just Zayne that tethers you to the hospital, it is the heart in your chest, the illness in your life, the injuries from your job, and now the prosthetic on the bench.

"Darling." His thumb eases, soothes, wipes at fresh tears, "I'm here."

You think about hospital appointments that Caleb had joined you for. How he'd written notes and focused so you didn't have to. Keeping you tethered.

Zayne looks at you with warm, beautiful eyes, and offers you his stability and his brain to keep you standing. Where you waver.

So you shake your head, "I can do it." You can. You can do it. You're not alone, you can do it.

"If you need to leave, tap my hand twice, alright?" It's an offer to escape, but it's spoken with pride in his voice, as you stand a little taller.

Your nod is firmer than before, and this time when he picks up the prosthetic, you can look at it a little longer. Maybe soon you'll look at it and look forwards.

—-

Rafayel is trying to focus on his work. He has an exhibition coming up, that he would cancel if he didn't have some degree of guilt for the stress it would cause Thomas. He doesn't mind tormenting the man occasionally, but breaking promises… it's not something he can bring himself to do. He's not a hypocrite.

If he waited every year for you to return to that beach, he'll carry out the promises he's made to finish his art.

He's only half paying attention to his canvas, though. Paint on his brush drying in the air, because he keeps looking over at you.

You're sat with Xavier, as you work through exercises to help with balance. He can see the strain in your back. A loose vest worn so you don't rub at the shoulder. You wince, but push.

Rafayel's paintbrush is set to the side, sketchbook picked up, and he works.

You are a vision in charcoal, when you finish an exercise you exhale in relief, before moving on. Every hurdle cleared no matter how tall, has you stabilise. Visibly relaxing, flinching less when Xavier's hands touch you. The prince is careful, gentle and observant.

There's life to his page again, he isn't sure he'll ever show you the sketches of you like this. Scars on your skin, hurting, but he keeps it in case there is a day you ask. So he can show you that you live and you move. That stumbling and hurting is ok.

Rafayel records you in sketches because he values every version of you, and he hopes one day you see that, and believe it.

As you finish for the day, falling to the floor, lying down. Breathing heavily, and worn out fully. He hears a soft laugh, "I'll get some water." The prince heads off to the kitchen, while Rafayel puts his work down, closing the sketchbook carefully, and approaching you. So that he can look at you, upside down, nose inches from yours.

"Hey cutie. Nice work."

You hesitate before smiling. It's not the smile you've worn before, but it's not a fake one. It's just tired. He might not understand the feeling fully, but he knows how hard struggling is. How it drains you. He also knows that no matter how proud you can be, stubborn and biting at the bit to be strong, that he should commend every action.

Even if you huff that it should be a simple achievement. It is not, not some days. Some days, he watches you give in. Some days, you power through better than others.

Today you almost gave up, before getting fiery and angry at yourself. Growling and forging on.

So he will commend you, because he wants you to value the effort.

"You're cute upside down too."

This time you do exhale a laugh, hand reaching up to poke his forehead. You miss, frown, and try again. "You're silly."

He joins you on the floor, lying with his head at yours, his legs up on your sofa. Face turned to you. Neither of you make a move to sit up, it is comfortable to simply lie, and stare up at the dimmed lights. "You're doing well."

A shaky exhale is his immediate answer, but you nod, "I'm trying."

He wants to say that trying is enough, he doesn't know if that's the right thing to say, but instead he reaches over towards your hand, and takes it in his. He can watch as the furrow in your brow eases, frown easing a little. He thinks you're finally trying to rely on them. To find comfort in their presence.

To not feel alone.

"It's hard," You speak, guilt in your voice, like you're confessing a sin. He squeezes, so you continue, "I feel pathetic, and sometimes I feel angry. So angry." You look at him, eyes glistening and he nods, "I want to give up."

"But you don't." He offers, watching your eyes waver, you can't hold his gaze for long, but he knows you're still keeping focus on him. Grounding yourself. "I'm glad that you're working through it."

Your exercises exhaust you, movement is harder now so he watches you fray. You let them handle things, food, cleaning, so you can focus on recovery. Rafayel is pleased, smug almost, that his presence here allows for that. It's a warm heat in his chest, like he's watching the tides, because if he can help you stand up tall again, he'll do anything for you.

You don't speak for a while, simply breathing through, relaxing and calming yourself. He reaches his other hand over to brush hair from where it sticks to your skin, revelling in the small shudder he gets from the sensitivity.

He will always be too sensitive to everything you do.

Xavier sits then, on your other side, and he looks up as you look at the glass in the prince's hand.

You release Rafayel's hand, pushing yourself up, shaking your head at the offer of help, and lean over a little to take the glass. Xavier's hand stabilising your back.

As he watches you, Rafayel thinks about your impatience, to be useful again. Back in the field. To overcome the hurdles despite the fact you wish to give up, he returns to his sketchbook.

With a quick pen, a dagger takes pride of place in the centre of his page.

—---

"We are not eating fish every night."

"Who made you the boss?"

"Variation is important in a diet."

"Fish is good for you!"

"Except for one big one."

You leave your bedroom after a nap, to find Sylus, Rafayel and Zayne in the kitchen.

Sylus has instructions on his phone, as he chops vegetables, while Rafayel is sat on the counter, trying to… you assume sabotage his efforts.

Zayne has his head in his hands, trying to read what you can tell is your treatment schedule. "Can the both of you act your age?"

"Tell that to the fish."

"I have a name, crow!"

You feel the laugh bubble out of you unbidden. The image is so out of sorts, and so ridiculous. Sylus of the N109 Zone, and Rafayel the lemurian artist. Arguing in your kitchen. That's far smaller than either of them are probably used to.

While your doctor sits and grumbles at them, barely trying to keep them from killing each other.

They turn at the sound, three pairs of stunning eyes, focusing on you as you try to cover your mouth to keep the laugh from escaping.

It doesn't work though. You laugh, and you laugh, and you laugh.

It's almost hysteric. Like a collapse, like walls crumbling down, and foundations falling.

It's euphoric. A release of pent up feelings you keep struggling to let out.

It's relieving. Tears flowing with it. Hiccups starting, laughter into sobs, then laughter again.

It's stupid but it throws something off of you. A beast of a burden, clinging to your back. Trying to pull you down.

It settles at your ankles, clinging to you, but you can stand up a little taller.

The monster that lurks, that angers, that demands blood. The creature that tells you to give up. It silences itself, curling up, and slumbers. Not forever. It never leaves forever, but for a little while… it is chased away by the realisation that you have something still to see.

These foolish men, living their lives alongside you.

Sylus' eyes are molten pools of affection as he watches you, lips quirking into that small smile you know intimately. "What do you want, kitten?"

"Cutie will make the right choice!"

As you approach, sitting beside Zayne at the counter who wipes your face as you do so, you smile softly, "I want salmon."

Rafayel lets out a whoop, way too close to Sylus' head, who winces and glares at him.

"You truly are a cat, kitten." He tuts, but moves to the fridge to grab it from the groceries Xavier had picked up earlier before heading off for a mission.

Zayne had given him a strict list of food that are good to eat when you are in recovery… even if some cookies had snuck their way into the list.

You try not to think about how you should be out there with him.

Zayne lets out an exhale next to you, "Finally, that argument is over."

"The doctor was very unhelpful." Sylus inputs, raising a brow at the man.

"As long as it's healthy, I don't mind what you prepare." He pushes the schedule close to you, so you don't have to lean over to watch, "I've been making notes for what we can do at home to help alleviate the time spent in the hospital."

You blink at him, and he pushes his glasses up to smile, "Is that alright?" It's a small nod, you're not sure how to explain to him how seen you feel with them.

It's been a long time since there was security in your life. You wish it had come at a time where you also didn't feel like you're standing over the edge of the abyss… but the safety net you can see below you finally… well… going through the motions is looking less like a chore.

"When do you start your prosthetic training?" Raffy asks, swinging his legs.

You check the documents, because you truly can't remember much of what was said to you verbally, and you'd been avoiding reading them since you received them. "A week."

"I'll send a copy around to everyone, if you're alright with it?"

You nod, it's an easy thing to agree to. You think about them finding you curled up in the blanket. It can't get much worse than that…

"Is your exhibit going well, Raffy?"

The man in question jumps, and you think he looks a little guilty, "I have one more thing to finish, it's giving me trouble, but I'll get there. Promise you'll come see it?"

It's hard to promise anything, caught in jewel eyes, watching them like a shimmering luminescent sea. You don't want to let Rafayel down, if you can't go. If you're too tired. If you're sick. If you just can't bear to be out.

What do you want to do? Plays in a loop in your head. If you can, what do you want?

You think about how Rafayel holds to promises like they mean everything. You think about the feeling you have sometimes like you've broken one without meaning to. You think about how warm his voice is when he forgives you if you can't go out with him because you hurt too much or are too tired, long before now. In a way you can't fake your way through, despite how much you hate letting your body pull you down.

It's easy then. What you want… the picture is clearer.

"I promise Raffy." Because as long as you can, you will. Because he'll understand if you can't. If your body hurts too much, if your fatigue is too great, if you're drowning.

His smile is so relieved, so bright, you almost look away from him.

An artist could try to capture him, and fail a million times over. He is too beautiful, and too kind, to ever be recorded on paper or canvas.

"How come the invite wasn't extended to all of us, fish?" Sylus teases, flicking some water off his hands at Rafayel's face. Who instantly looks like a startled cat in response.

"Why would anyone want you there crow?"

"You doubt my eye for beautiful things?"

"I doubt your taste in anything but cutie."

The man laughs, amused and unbothered by the insult, "Perhaps you should paint them, I'll definitely appreciate the art then."

Despite your nap, as you watch them, as the room is warm, you find yourself leaning into Zayne. Eyes drooping, he adjusts himself to place an arm around your waist, "You should go to bed if you're still tired."

The disgruntled mumble makes him huff a soft laugh, but he allows you to stay leaning into his side, as he turns paper, and reads. "Your specialist's work is very clear." He hums in approval.

"Approval from Doctor Li." You manage to tease, "I'm in good hands."

"You are. Though it took a little while to convince Sylus of that."

The man in question half shrugs as he stirs a pot, "There is no compromise with your health Kitten, I'd drag a doctor from halfway across the world if I had to."

This time Raffy nods, as though it's an obvious thing. To have the money to do that. Or, you think in Sylus' case, the power to do that. You'd be a little worried about the doctor's state of mind though. Kidnapped by a criminal and dragged to Linkon.

"It'll be ok." You manage, though sleep is pulling you under yet again. The net is there, ready to catch you. You feel a kiss pressed against your head, but it is dim and it is far away, and you fall before you can respond.

[thebaldursmouthgazette]

Okay so I’ve been thinking lately about spirits and the concept of change, specifically in the context of personal growth. And forgive me if this is a little disjointed, because there’s a lot of various topics that come together.

Because spirits in the fade are very rigid. They represent one feeling or concept, and they represent it rigidly. It is their being, and their purpose, and if they stray from it they become corrupted into demons, they are no longer their original purpose. Justice is no longer just. Compassion is no longer compassionate. Wisdom is no longer wise. Changing in this way is not a good change for spirits.

But people as we know them do change and grow. It is a part of life. And we don’t lose who we were, we just move on from it. The old versions of ourselves remain part of us and we build onto them. And I wonder if taking physical form to be like humans allowed spirits to change and grow the way that regular people do (and I say regular people to mean people as we know them, as actually exist in the real world, since DA spirits are sort of a thought experiment in many ways, and not actually real). And I’m wondering about how the sudden ability to do that would affect spirit society. I’d imagine it would be very taboo to change in that way, because previously, before taking form, change to a spirit is tantamount to death. They may not recognise that personal growth is not a bad thing. It’s not a corruption, it is a part of life.

Sidestep for a moment. When Bellara confronts Solas for killing the fragment of Mythal in Flemeth, he replies that that was not Mythal. He doesn’t consider her advice. He has no qualms about killing her. Yet when the fragment of Mythal we get from the crossroads talks to him, he sees her as Mythal. Listens to what she says. They are both fragments, yet one is considered Mythal and one is not. What is the difference?

The Mythal who we meet as flemeth has lived in the world and among people for a very long time. She has lived as an elf, as a human. She’s lived in a swamp. She’s fallen in love with an alamarri chieftain (most likely Tyrdda Bright Axe). She’s had lots of direct experience with people, and has allowed that experience to change her. She has allowed herself to grow. She now sees modern people of all races as people whose lives have meaning. There is no test of how well we can grovel in front of her to get her help with the blight in origins. In dragon age 2 she accepts a simple exchange of one favour for another, even with a Hawke who shows her no respect. She tells Merrill she bows too easily.

If we take the fragment we meet in Veilguard as a representation of who she was in ancient times, she is very different. She’s changed, but in ways that make sense given the new experiences she has. But solas claims that is not her, and I think it’s because she has changed. She has grown as a person when spirits should remain stagnant, and therefore she is no longer Mythal to him. She is a corruption of Mythal.

She’s also not easily recognisable as a spirit. She doesn’t represent one single concept anymore, and certainly not the one she started as. I’d figured out that the ancient elves were spirits before veilguard came out and I’d have put her down as justice/vengeance and said it wasn’t a very good fit but the closest I could find. Meanwhile the other fragment is definitely retribution and a very condescending brand of benevolence.

I bring this up because there’s another ancient elf that isn’t recognisable as a spirit and that’s Felassan. I could not begin to guess what sort of spirit he is, but he definitely was one. And I think it’s because he has grown and changed too. He has, as people do, allowed his experiences to shape him, change his opinions on things, learned and grown. And while it is not stated, I think this is part of why Solas kills him. He has changed when spirits are supposed to remain stagnant, and thus, in Solas’ eyes, he is no longer Felassan.

So I do think that that sort of change and personal growth, for good or ill, is something that the ancient elves gained the ability to do when they took physical form. And I think it’s one they rejected as taboo, because change is something they considered a corruption of your true self, even though that is not what this personal growth was. Which brings me on to my next point: fragments.

We know spirits can fragment themselves or be fragmented. We know Dirthamen and Falon’Din are fragments of the same original spirit. We know Mythal split into different fragments, with a theory being that she split down different facets of herself (so the fragment that became Flemeth Mythal was a part of her already moving away from benevolence/retribution). I’m wondering if it might have been the custom, after taking physical form and gaining this ability to grow and change in a constructive way as people do and rejecting it out of fear, to fragment yourself if you noticed such a change coming upon yourself, to keep yourself strictly within your purpose and being.

This ties in to my theorising about the cave “Prides End” on the peak of “Sundermount” where a pride demon named “audacity” with an in depth understanding of the blight has been trapped sundered from the fade for an unimaginably long time, and how that might be a part of Solas he fragmented from himself when he sundered the titans.

And a while ago I briefly saw a post about how the wolf statuettes are made from the same material as the Mythal statue we obtain, which IS her. And I can’t remember what the post said beyond that, but I wonder if those regrets are something Solas removed from himself so he couldn’t learn and grow from them. So he would remain stagnant and true to his purpose (even though he changed to pride a long time ago, and learning from these would allow him to move on from that).

It would also add further context to Cole’s quest. Because Cole’s quest is NOT about becoming more human or more spirit. That is a choice he comes to himself. What Cole’s quest is about is whether he should show this Templar unconditional compassion (his purpose), or allow himself to feel anger towards him for what he did to the original Cole (the thing that brought him into physical form, and something outside of his spirit/demon dichotomy. His demon form mercy kills, he doesn’t seek revenge).

Solas is projecting on Cole, but it’s not just about having a physical body, it’s about changing and growing as a person. Cole is fine with changing and growing, he’s fine either way. But if spirits are supposed to remain stagnant and rigidly true to their purpose, then Cole shouldn’t let himself grow. He should deny that growth and cut parts of himself away if necessary. And, of course, Solas does not consider that Cole is fine either way because Solas is rigidly remaining as Pride, and therefore he must be right by virtue of being the one who thought it.

The kicker, of course, is that while Solas is rejecting any and all opportunities for growth, and cutting out the parts of himself that seem to be changing and learning, he has changed, more than he realises. Not for the better, as he could have done had he allowed old friends and new experiences to teach him that sometimes he is wrong. But despite all his active and determined resistance to any change at all, it has happened anyway. It’s just happened in a twisted and gnarled way instead. He’s not changed for the better and learned from the people of the world, he’s twisted in in himself and isolated himself from everything and everyone.

[airybcby]

Hi there!! I absolutely adore your more than a married couple event!! Could I maybe ask one for Otoya eita with 🍓 and 🍰?? Good day to you!!

hi!! ofc!

an eita otoya strawberry shortcake :)

જ⁀♡⊹｡° when i look into your eyes

♡ a/n — for my more than a married couple event :)

♡ content — eita otoya x gn! reader, gn! reader, oblivious reader, flirty! otoya , readers feelings are so obvious it's insane, slight teasing, unrequited love kinda?, set in a high school

♡ synopsis — everyone loves otoya eita, you included. Unlike everyone else, though, you wanted something more serious.

When you first saw Otoya’s name next to yours on the partner list, your heart stopped for a moment.

It wasn’t a surprise—he was the kind of person people gravitated toward. His easygoing personality and playful smirk made him a magnet for attention.

But for you, Otoya had always been more than that.

For years, you’d watched him from the sidelines, quietly nursing feelings that you knew would never be returned.

He dated casually, laughing about it in the group chat or in person, but it never lasted long. Commitment didn’t seem to suit him, and you told yourself that was why you never confessed.

Not because you were scared, not because you were certain of rejection—but because someone like Otoya wasn’t built for love the way you wanted it.

Living with him for the simulation, however, meant the walls you’d carefully built around yourself started to crumble.

“Yo, roomie,” he said with a grin as he carried his bags into your shared apartment. “Guess we’re married now, huh?”

You rolled your eyes, trying to ignore the way his voice sent a shiver down your spine. “It’s just a simulation, Eita.”

“Right,” he said, dropping his bags dramatically. “But if you start falling for me, just let me know, okay? I’ll let you down easy.”

You forced a laugh, brushing past him to unpack. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Despite his usual teasing, Otoya was surprisingly thoughtful.

He cooked dinner on nights when you were too tired, insisted on watching your favorite movies even if he hated them, and always managed to bring you snacks when you were working late on assignments for the program.

But those moments—those soft, fleeting moments—only made things harder.

Because every time he smiled at you, every time he made some offhanded comment about how easy it was to live with you, you couldn’t stop your heart from twisting painfully.

He didn’t mean it the way you wanted him to.

One evening, the two of you sat on the couch, scrolling through the program’s task list.

“Couples photo shoot tomorrow,” Otoya read aloud, leaning back lazily. “Think they’ll let me wear sunglasses? I have a reputation to protect.”

You snorted. “What reputation? Being the most annoying guy here?”

He smirked, nudging you with his shoulder. “Admit it, you’d miss me if I wasn’t around.”

You didn’t respond.

Because it was true.

And because you couldn’t admit it without giving too much away.

The photo shoot was a blur of awkward poses and forced smiles—at least for you.

Otoya, on the other hand, seemed perfectly at ease, slinging an arm around your shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Relax,” he whispered as the photographer adjusted the lighting. “You look like you’re being held hostage.”

“I’m trying,” you muttered, your face burning.

“Here,” he said, turning toward you. “Focus on me.”

You looked up at him, startled, and for a moment, everything else faded away.

The teasing glint in his eyes was replaced with something softer, something deeper, and you felt your heart skip a beat.

“There,” he said, his voice quieter now. “Much better.”

The rest of the program passed in a blur of shared meals, late-night conversations, and moments that felt far too real for something that was supposed to be fake.

And yet, you still told yourself that none of it meant anything.

Because Otoya wasn’t the kind of person who fell in love—not the way you wanted him to.

On the final night of the simulation, the two of you sat on the balcony, a bottle of wine between you.

“To surviving this thing without killing each other,” he said, raising his glass.

You clinked your glass against his, smiling faintly. “Cheers to that.”

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the city lights stretching out before you.

“Hey,” Otoya said suddenly, breaking the quiet. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure,” you said, turning to face him.

“Why didn’t you ever tell me?” he asked, his voice uncharacteristically serious.

Your heart stopped.

“Tell you what?” you said, feigning ignorance.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “You’re not that good at hiding it, you know. The way you look at me, the way you act around me—it’s pretty obvious.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out.

“I’m not saying this to mess with you,” he said, his tone softer now. “I just...I want to know why.”

You looked away, your chest tightening. “Because it wouldn’t have mattered. You don’t feel the same way, Eita. And that’s okay.”

He was silent for a long moment, and you braced yourself for whatever he was going to say next.

“You’re wrong,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper.

Your head snapped up, your eyes meeting his.

“What?”

“I didn’t realize it at first,” he admitted, his gaze steady. “But spending all this time with you—seeing the way you care, the way you make everything feel a little less heavy—I think I’ve been an idiot for not noticing sooner.”

For the first time in years, hope bloomed in your chest.

Maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as one-sided as you’d thought.

very not used to giving otoya a happy ending lol this was strange

i hope you liked it!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[pompomchihuahua]

So, I've seen a Twitter thread making the rounds about Yuichirou being in the right for not trusting Amane which you can read here. Overall, I think it nicely covered why Yuichirou was so "mean" to her: a strange woman shows up at their home trying to recruit two vulnerable 11-year-old boys who just lost their parents. She starts talking about demons and them being descended from swordsmen and being able to save people and in Muichirou's hopeful little heart it strikes a chord.

But Yuichirou says that he's certain she's just going to use them, that she's plotting something, which, from a story telling perspective, is an interesting seed to plant in the viewers mind.

What I mainly want to focus on in this thread is Kagaya Ubuyashiki, as he is the one who ultimately sends Amane to recruit the Tokitou twins (though, yes, she is complicit in the recruitment of child soldiers. The average age of soldiers in 1912 Japan was 17-20 not 11).

Putting aside that he ends up recruiting Muichirou anyway after he's made almost impossibly more vulnerable (just lost his last remaining family, critically injured, just lost his memories and also, once again, an 11 year old CHILD being coerced by an adult into fighting mythical monsters) Kagaya has a way of appearing to the Hashira at their most vulnerable moments to recruit them (aside from Rengoku who was basically born and raised into the role which is a whole other can of worms).

Another thing I'd like to point out is the cruelty and impracticality of final selection, something that is exemplified perfectly with Sabito. How many slayers with the potential to do something great's lives were wasted in final selection? Considering the sheer amount that goes in and how few come out and the lack of any kind of age limit, I'm going to guess quite a few. Why exactly is the system set up like this?

They essentially set up a demon buffet featuring children as the main course. Did they know about the demon growing out of control on the final selection grounds? Most likely, and if not that's highly irresponsible to not at least monitor your supposed testing grounds.

Why not have them fight against other, higher-level slayers? If they fail the test, they'd be sent back into training or dismissed entirely instead of just... killed. And Ubuyashiki seems fine with this! And I'm truly curious- he mentions memorizing the names of every slayer that dies in the line of duty, but does that include the dozens of people that don't even get to become official slayers because they die in the very baffling final selection meat grinder?

I'm getting off track.

What I mean is that Ubuyashiki is shown to have questionable moral decision-making when it comes to the pursuit of defeating Muzan: it seems his goal is to kill Muzan at all costs.

Later, Muzan says this: "That schemer! Like a viper, his rage and hatred toward me... was coiling inside his pitch-black heart!"

As the viewer we're, of course, meant to take this with a grain of salt. We know Ubuyashiki didn't have a "pitch-black heart," but I think there's a grain of truth to be found in Ubuyashiki harboring rage and hatred toward Muzan.

We know the reason the Ubuyashiki clan started to hunt Muzan in the first place was to save themselves from the curse (and along the way I think they genuinely believed it was for the greater good as well).

But I think it sets Ubuyashiki up as the perfect morally ambiguous foil to Muzan. Yes, he is supposed to represent humanity, but what is more human than the endless moral struggle between the greater good and what's right for the individual? Ubuyashiki points out that in the thousands of years of Muzan's existence, the corps has never been wiped out but this is because the corps inherently preys on those who are at their most vulnerable. It is built on the back of tragedy.

Everything down to even just their life span is meant to be equal but opposite from Muzan's immortality to the Ubuyashiki's ephemeral life spans. Even their clothing choice, with Muzan picking darker colors and Ubuyashiki clad in white. Muzan is beautiful and unmarred while Kagaya is consumed by the curse of their bloodline yet their appearance is described as "twin-like" in the Kimetsu extras. Yet they are also equal, once again returning to their supposedly identical features, they both have a tendency to appear to those that serve them at their most vulnerable.

This is not a "Kagaya is evil" post at the end of the day. This is a "Kagaya is not a morally pure character and that's a good thing" post. And, I think, had the author had more time, they would have explored this fully. We all know the ending was a tad bit rushed due to the author having a family emergency and I will never blame them for that, but just looking at the story they built even on that time crunch I can only imagine they narrative they could have built given unlimited time.

I feel like they could have explored Kagaya's character more which they set up as being Muzan's equal but opposite: equally scheming but thankfully on humanity's side. He had empathy for the children, yes, but he still, at the end of the day, used people at their most vulnerable to do what he couldn't on his own.

And I didn't even get to START on the implications of his magical "voice" and foresight powers, but this post is already so long that I'm gonna end it here.

TLDR: Ubuyashiki is so much more complex than your stock "Greater good" character. He's Muzan's equal but opposite force, conniving but empathetic, morally ambiguous. Had the author had more time, I feel this would have been explored in more depth.

[lavellansvh3nan]

A Letter From Dorian Pavus to Inquisitor Lavellan

//OOC//: First and foremost, thank you so much to everyone who has read and engaged with the first two letters! It’s a blast to write these two, so stay tuned. Creativity willing, I’d love to write more than just letters, maybe something long form. But one step at a time haha. For now, enjoy!

Foolish Elliana,

If you think for even one moment I’m going to just let all this go, you’ve clearly been damaged in your trip through the Fade. I suppose it was bound to happen, between the Anchor, the first trip through the Fade, and declaring your love for a half-mad asshole. So disappointing, truly. Here I’d hoped all our years together would provide the chance for my greatness to rub off on you.

You’ve been in contact with Morrigan, then. You know how quickly things are moving here in the real world while you play pretend with the spirits. Minrathos is receiving reinforcements from Treviso and Rivain. Josephine has written as well, she believes she can convince Ferelden to send aid as well, though I’ll believe it when I see it.

The powers that be are scrambling, but the defeat of their so-called god has scattered the majority of occupying forces. If the Shadow Dragons push the offensive, there is a chance they might be free from occupation. Another day in the fabulously exciting life of yours truly.

You repeated several times in your previous letter that you love me, and dear, I know. I’m a rare breed, literally. It’s only natural. But that being said, apparently not loved enough for you to stay. Not that I need you around anyways.

Though, you guess correctly. I am most curious about your little love triangle. Don’t deny it— I heard from Rook that Mythal was of precious importance to that prick. Morrigan says she lives on in her: can we expect a jealous duel to the death between you and the Witch of the Wood? Please tell me I can, liberating a country and saving the world really isn’t as interesting as that sounds.

*there are several attempts to start a new sentence, all scribbled over in frustration*

You are alright, aren’t you? He did choose you, right? I know you’ve waited ten years but no love is worth being the other woman for. Especially to a millennia old spirit queen. Or whatever she was. As cross with you as I am, you have better features than her. Hopefully your “vhenan” sees that. For all his self-proclaimed wisdom, he is fucking blind.

By the by, where are you in the Fade? Just…wandering around? Camping with welcoming spirits? Sleeping under the stars? I am curious where a pair of recently reunited lovers goes to, fuck reunite, so to speak, in the Fade. Please tell me you aren’t sleeping in Fade dust.

Not to make this about me, though we both know it should be, Iron Bull has been acting…strange. Or, stranger than usual. Don’t jest, I can practically hear you snorting.

He gave me something the other day. Half a dragon tooth. Just came up to me while I had a rare moment of peace and slammed it on the table I was eating at. Insisted he wanted me to start wearing it and now wherever I go, he goes.

What have I gotten myself in to? Is he moving in? Is this a marriage proposal? If you were here I could navigate all of my questions to you. You owe me after eight years of your longing babble.

I will expect your prompt reply. If you’re going to abandon me with all these problems, you might as well attempt to provide me some entertainment.

*several more sentences are hastily scribbled out*

I miss you. You fucking fool. Write soon.

With continued disappointment and love,

Dorian

[aishangotome]

Azel Radwan: Romantic Ending Ch. 24

Chapter 23 Letter

Thank you @shatcey for providing the video for this chapter!

♡———♡

I don't know what to call this heart-wrenching pain, but morning comes nonetheless.

My feet are heavy as I tread the dry earth leading to the city, and the scorching sunlight makes it harder to breathe than usual.

Emma: This is terrible...

The city in the Land of Illusion has completely changed since the other day.

Things are scattered about as if a war had taken place, and exhausted people are busy cleaning up.

The soldiers patrolling the city are filled with tension, and small disputes are breaking out here and there.

Man: Are you saying God has abandoned us?

Woman: What else could it be!? We've been forsaken!

Woman: The sanctuary has been taken over by traitors, and the worst criminals are still roaming the streets!

Woman: Even in this state, God doesn't show himself. The God who was supposed to protect us...!

Man: Surely something has happened to the Living God!

Woman: There's no way anyone could do anything to the Living God!

(...Kamal is still on the run, and the sanctuary, the symbol of the sacred, remains captured.)

(Distrust of Azel is growing, and the people who don't know a world without God are divided in their opinions.)

(Unaware that all of this is going according to God's plan.)

I make my way to the back of the city, passing by the small squabbles.

As rumored, the sanctuary seems to have been taken over by the forces that rebelled against God. I can't see inside the sanctuary, which is surrounded by a high wall, but I can see the red moon flag standing at the gate.

What does this flag, which defiles the beautiful moon, mean? – The breath I inhaled felt like it was burning my chest.

Soldier: You there, wait!

I am called out to by one of the soldiers surrounding the sanctuary, and I show my face.

Soldier: ...You are Miss Emma, aren't you?

Emma: Were you looking for me?

Soldier: The apostle has ordered us to "protect" you.

(It's a hostage situation under the guise of protection.)

The soldier calls out to his nearby comrades, cutting off my escape route.

Soldier: Will you please come with us?

It was a situation where I had no say in the matter.

I lower my eyes and hide my loosening lips with my hair.

Emma: Gladly.

(...I've been placed under house arrest.)

It's not quite like being treated as a criminal, but there are soldiers stationed outside my guest room, and I can't come and go freely.

I heard the Owner protesting outside, and a short while ago I passed a note to the soldier that said, "Don't worry."

Perhaps everyone is sensing the end somewhere, because the castle, like the city, is filled with tension.

I opened the window, wanting to let the heavy air escape outside.

(...When that sun turns to moon, it's goodbye.)

(...Really... was there no other way?)

There's a gentle knock on the door, and I answer.

Even before I see them, I can guess who the visitors are.

Apostle: Miss Emma, I'm so glad you're safe. I noticed you were missing after that and was worried, but...

Enis: What happened to your arm?

Both the apostle and Enis stare at the bandages covering half of my body.

Emma: I was slightly injured... Please don't worry.

Apostle: How dreadful. Enis, please arrange for a doctor later.

(...But the apostle is the cause.)

The frightening thing about the apostle is that his words of "dreadful" feel genuine.

Emma: By the way, you two came to ask about the Living God, right?

I push aside my complicated feelings and bring it up myself. Enis gasps audibly, and the apostle hides all emotion with a benevolent smile.

Apostle: So you did meet the Living God, Miss Emma.

Emma: It was Prince Azel who treated this injury.

Emma: He entrusted me with a "divine oracle" to be conveyed to the The Reverend Apostle and King Enis without fail.

(...I was the one who said I was a priestess, not a slave, but...)

(I never thought I'd actually be doing a priest's job at the very end.)

*flashback*

Azel: A priest is a public servant who serves God.

Azel: Their duties are varied, but the most excellent priests are given the right to become God's spokesperson.

Emma: So, you mean like the apostle?

Azel: He's more of a phony scammer than a spokesperson, a scammer.

Azel: In the first place, my generation didn't establish the position of priest. It's just a hassle.

Azel: Therefore, as the one and only priest, I grant you the right to become my spokesperson.

Azel: Tell everyone what I'm about to say... and tell that dreamy old man.

*flashback over*

Emma: "The last moon rises in the sky, and the people awaken from their long dream."

Emma: "The incarnation of the moon departs from the mundane world, and a new moon is born."

Emma: "The newborn moon pierces through nothingness, and the promised reality also returns to nothingness."

Emma: "When the moon reaches its zenith, the final oracle will be given."

Emma: "Tonight, gather at the stage of offering."

Emma: "May you all awaken from your dreams and tread upon the earth of reality."

As I convey every single word entrusted to me by Azel, a dry wind enters the room.

My hair is whipped up, and the unicorn earrings sway.

Emma: Please tell the people.

Emma: That is the Living God's final wish for the apostle and Enis.

The silence continues for a long time.

Next to Enis, who has a gloomy expression, the apostle may be calculating all sorts of things.

Apostle: Thank you, Miss Emma. If those are the words of the Living God, we must make them public.

Apostle: However, I find it very distressing to convey the words of the Living God to the people in this current situation.

Apostle: If we convey the divine oracle of the Living God to the people in the midst of chaos, it will only incite further fear.

Apostle: Even if it is the will of the Living God, I cannot condone words that would lead to disorder.

Apostle: I pray that you will understand.

(...This is all unfolding exactly as Azel predicted.)

(He reads the opponent's moves like the back of his hand and makes the next move with certainty.)

(Now that I'm his ally, I can feel the full extent of Azel's fearfulness.)

He's reassuring as an ally, but as an enemy, I can't see any chance of winning.

The more God's script progresses, the less likely it is that unexpected variables will occur.

Emma: Do you feel the same way, King Enis?

Enis: ...Yes. The apostle's judgment is also my judgment.

Emma: Then, it's fine if you pretend you didn't hear the oracle just now.

Emma: However, you can't stop people from talking... I hope it hasn't spread.

*flashback*

Aisha: To put Miss Emma under house arrest, I will protest strongly!

Nadia: To subject Miss Emma to such injustice is unforgivable, even for the king or the apostle!

Emma: Thank you. It's reassuring that you two came to my aid immediately, even in this situation.

Aisha/Nadia: "Miss Emma..."

Emma: Actually... there's something I'd like to ask of you two. Would you listen?

Aisha: Of course! We are Miss Emma's caretakers.

Nadia: Is it about meals? Baths? Or...

Aisha: Is it a secret you can't tell the king or the apostle?

Emma: ...Hehe, you see right through me.

Emma: I want you to spread what I'm about to tell you throughout the city.

*flashback over*

Apostle: ...This is troubling. To think you had already made arrangements.

Apostle: The Living God has always been wise; a mere mortal like me is no match for him.

(He says that, but the apostle isn't very surprised. He must have had some idea.)

Judging from the fact that the maids were able to meet with me, it seems he isn't seriously trying to stop the oracle from spreading.

(Even if he stopped me, someone else would spread it, so perhaps he decided it was a bad move to allocate personnel here.)

Apostle: Miss Emma, at this rate, we may truly lose the Living God.

Emma: That's why you gathered King Enis and me here, isn't it?

Emma: The Living God is watching this commotion from somewhere. It's because the apostle is certain of that...

Emma: ...that you intend to publicly execute us as accomplices of the great criminal, aren't you?

When I present the next development in advance, the apostle's benevolence deepens.

Enis, who is next to him, only makes a bitter face.

Perhaps he had anticipated this from the beginning.

Apostle: Is "that" also a prophecy from the Living God?

Emma: It is.

*flashback*

Azel: When that old man is cornered, he tends to resort to simplistic ideas.

Azel: He's probably confident that if he crucifies you and Enis, I'll definitely show up.

Emma: ...Am I going to be subjected to such a terrible fate?

Azel: You're going to be my ally, right?

Emma: ......... I-I'll do my best.

Azel: Don't agree! It was a joke! That's not the part you should be trying hard at!

Azel: Besides, if you're crucified, Akatsuki will turn into a weapon of mass destruction.

Emma: That's no good...!

Azel: ...If that really happens, I might end up killing the old man too.

Emma: .....?

Azel: Anyway, to prevent you from being humiliated, we need to take action first.

Azel: This is the time to use our trump card––

*flashback over*

Apostle: ––The Living God must have bestowed his protection upon you, hasn't he?

Apostle: It's been strangely quiet outside for a while now.

(Now that he mentions it, I can't hear anything.)

(It's not like there's a ban on passing in front of the guest room, so there should be the sound of people coming and going...)

Perhaps realizing that we are standing on the stage of a script written by God, the apostle tilts his head sorrowfully.

As if I were the villain and he the victim.

Apostle: Miss Emma, do you truly have no regrets?

Apostle: What you are trying to do is the grave sin of killing God.

Apostle: Even if you are not directly responsible...

Apostle: If you are indirectly involved, it is the same as you killing the Living God.

Apostle: If you cooperated with me now, we might be able to stop it.

Emma: .........

Emma: ...Once, I asked Prince Azel a question.

Emma: "What is true love?"

Emma: Prince Azel, the Living God, is loved by more people than anyone else.

Emma: But to me, that love didn't seem real.

Apostle: ...That's a very interesting story.

Apostle: If your feelings towards our God are not love, then what is love by your definition?

(...I love that unscrupulous God.)

(Because I came to love him, I hope my current choice is the answer to that question.)

I gently cup the unicorn earring swaying by my ear with my fingers.

Emma: To wish for what is best for that person, not for yourself...

Emma: Even if it means getting hurt, wouldn't continuing to think about what's best for the other person be love?

Apostle: ......

Apostle: ...I cannot agree. How can one wish for the best for another without being happy themselves?

(Perhaps the apostle has a point.)

(But he doesn't know how much that "own happiness" has caused Azel pain...)

???: ...Did you hear that? That's truly a Big Love.

???: Hey, read the room.

(.....!)

The voices coming from beyond the door were not something I had been informed of beforehand.

???: That's why I didn't want to use you guys. It's a hassle.

(!?)

Taken aback even further, I rush to the door and throw it open with all my might.

Immediately, the two people who seem to have been eavesdropping outside lose their balance and fall into the room.

Clavis, who has fallen on top of Luke, raises his hand in greeting as soon as he sees me.

Clavis: Long time no see, Emma... wait, what happened to your arm?

Luke: That's a serious injury. Who did that, that old geezer?

Clavis: What has he done to my daughter?

Luke: It's okay to do him in, right?

Emma: This was kind of an accident! I'm glad you're both alright, Prince Clavis and Prince Luke.

(I was worried when I heard you were missing...)

Clavis: I was caught up in the schemes of a certain noble. I was enjoying a super fun captive life, but...

Clavis: I heard you were in danger, so I kicked aside the soldiers and rushed here.

Luke: I mean, if you just said "move aside," they'd all move aside.

The "you" that Luke addressed was not Clavis.

???: No. The soldiers are on the apostle's side. Because no one wants God to die.

???: I can't move freely without hiring private soldiers like you.

A figure with their face deeply hidden by a sand-shielding mantle enters the room and closes the door.

The face that emerged as they removed their hood sent a wave of tension through the room from behind me.

Enis: ...The Living God.

Azel: If you hide a tree, hide it in the forest; if you hide sand, hide it in the desert; if you hide a prince, hide him in the castle... right?

(I wasn't told Azel was coming.)

(He said he was going to stay hidden until the time came.)

Apostle: I never expected the Living God himself to come all this way.

Azel: Oh, I didn't come here to see you, old man.

Azel: My business is with...

The mystical eyes turn towards Enis, who stands frozen in place.

Azel: Your Majesty. Have you heard about Kamal?

Enis: ...Yes. That he is a traitor who deceived the Living God.

Azel: What do you really think?

Enis: ......

Azel: You're a grown man now. It's time to let go of the past and move on to the future.

Azel: The old man is not someone you, as king, should fear.

Azel strides forward leisurely and holds out something in front of Enis.

(It's the unicorn clasp.)

Azel: From now on, you must lead the country with you at its center.

Azel: If you're afraid of such a small fry, the future looks bleak.

Enis: ........

Azel: It's alright. I guarantee it.

Azel: You are a capable king, and once faith falls, you will be in a more advantageous position than the apostle.

Azel: I will surely shatter the false faith and give you your rightful authority, so...

Azel: Would you grant me my request, "brother"?

Enis has an old, unhealed wound in his heart.

Now, being glared at by the apostle who has lost his smile, it must take courage to make that decision.

Enis slowly opens his tightly clenched fist.

And––he takes the offered clasp.

Enis: I will stop the search for Kamal by the soldiers.

Enis: He is not a traitor, but a brother to be welcomed.

Apostle: Enis....

Enis: Apostle, I, like you... do not wish for the Living God to choose death.

Enis: But, looking him in the eye and speaking with him like this, I realize that this end is what God strongly desires.

Enis: If Kamal is cooperating, then surely this end has meaning.

Enis: If that's the case... I, too, want to be a brother who can consider "what's best."

(Enis... must be hurting just as much as I am, or even more.)

As if accepting that pain, he attaches the unicorn clasp to his clothes.

Enis: Guests of Rhodolite, I apologize, but would you be willing to be hired?

Enis: I want to confine this old man for a while...

Enis: In this country, only those of a different faith can do that.

Clavis: I don't mind, but you're not going to make this an international issue later, are you?

Enis: Certainly not. I want to build a friendly relationship with Rhodolite.

Enis: How about we have a meeting about trade privileges later?

Enis: Tanzanite's economy has been developing rapidly lately. I'm sure I can make a proposal that would be beneficial to your country as well.

Clavis: Hmm... well, that's fine then. We wouldn't want to do it for nothing, would we?

Clavis: Come on, Luke, it's time to work. What kind of traps do you think an old man can withstand?

Luke: Don't do anything unnecessary. We might have to lock you up first.

(What Azel asked me to do was spread the oracle and rescue Enis who was "taken hostage"...)

(With this, I have nothing left to do.)

Azel: Miss Emma, please come with me.

Azel: It would be helpful if you could find a place with me where we can hide until nightfall.

-

A place close to the stage of the end, where there are no people at all––

As we searched for the place Azel desired, the sun began to set.

While dodging the eyes of the people, we finally arrived at a place where we could take a breather. Azel removed the hood that he had been wearing deeply and looked up at the sky.

I finally calmed down and breathed in the air that had cooled with the setting sun.

Emma: I can finally ask you.

Emma: Why did you give me a "different script"?

(I don't understand why you didn't tell me you were coming to the castle.)

Azel: There's nothing wrong with the script I gave you.

Azel: The words I just said to Enis, I was originally going to ask someone else to say them.

Azel: If we're found by the crowd now, the plan will be ruined.

Emma: Then why...

After a silence that made me wonder whether I should speak or not, those mystical eyes look away.

Azel: ...It was you who was looking for a job where we could be together until the very end, wasn't it?

(...!)

Azel never tries to look at me.

My chest felt like it was going to burst.

Emma: Prince Azel... can I say something conceited at the end?

Azel: No.

Emma: Well, listen.

Azel: I can't hear you, I don't know anything.

Not wanting the end to be in a somber atmosphere, I forced the corners of my mouth up.

Emma: Prince Azel, you said at first that being loved was abhorrent...

Emma: But I think you loved me.

Azel: .....

Azel: ...That's really conceited.

Emma: Forgive me, it's the end.

Azel: I won't forgive you. You have given me the greatest humiliation.

Emma: You don't have to be so shy–– Ow!

As expected, he pinched my cheek strongly.

(But I'm confident.)

(It's true that I'm being conceited, but there are many things that can't be explained otherwise.)

Azel: What are you going to do about this awkward atmosphere?

Emma: It's just Prince Azel who's feeling awkward... The cheek pinching really hurts!

Azel: In the first place, what's your basis?

Emma: You gave me what's best for me now, didn't you?

(You used your precious last moments on me.)

Emma: No, not just now, but from before...

Emma: Maybe you were head over heels for me.

("Last night" too... if that's not love, I don't know what else to call love.)

Azel: You're really being too conceited today, aren't you?

Emma: It's the suggestive God's fault.

The unrepentant Prince Azel furrowed his brows with a grumpy look and glared at me.

When I glared back in defiance, he awkwardly averted his eyes again—and I embraced him.

Even when I put my arms around his back, he didn't push me away.

Taking advantage of that, I pressed my ear against his heart.

Azel: –...I don't love you.

Azel: I don't like you or anything, you're more of a nuisance.

Azel: To think that I'm parting with you now, it's rather refreshing.

(...Doesn't he notice that his heartbeat is going crazy?)

(Or...)

(Maybe this is also the "best" for me, in Prince Azel's mind.)

Emma: If that's Prince Azel's answer...

Emma: I'll accept it as that.

In this fleeting time, like an illusion where the sun and moon switch places—

I burned the sound of his racing heartbeat into my ears and pushed my blurring vision to the back of my eyelids.

-

—The divine moon rose in the night sky, and the people gathered at the stage as prophesied.

Unable to contain the crowd, who were trampling the Al flowers, they overflowed from the stage and filled the main street of the market.

Azel: Thank you all for gathering here today.

The raging clamor returned to nothingness at the God's single word.

Without using any special loudspeaker, Prince Azel's voice resonated to every corner, capturing the attention of the people.

Even without any barriers, no one tried to step onto the stage.

The sacred air that Prince Azel wore was different from the one I knew.

This is the God that exists on the continent—I looked down on the stage from the best seat in the house.

Azel: Right now, anxiety must be swirling in your hearts.

Azel: The prophecy left by the first Living God is a "guaranteed reality" and also a trial he left for you.

Azel: You will eventually drift on the open sea without a star to guide you.

Azel: But there is no need to despair.

Azel: Sailors navigating the sea invented the compass to indicate direction in place of the stars.

Azel: You have wisdom. You have the talent to live without relying on the heavens.

Azel: In fact, you have already experienced a world without divination.

Azel: When you realized that relying on inaccurate divination would ruin your lives, what did you do next?

Azel: That's right, you used your own minds to carve out your own path without relying on God's guidance.

Azel: ...Once, there was nothing in this wasteland.

Azel: It was too harsh for people to live in, and without God's protection, you couldn't even build a civilization.

Azel: But that era is over.

Azel: Tanzanite has water, food, a rich culture, and you have come to live out your natural lifespans.

Azel: And the country that stood in the wasteland has now grown to become one of the major countries on the continent.

Azel: I am proud of you all, who built a great nation in the desert.

Azel: And that was probably the first dream that the first Living God saw.

Azel: Now that the dream has been fulfilled, you no longer need God.

Azel: But please don't grieve.

Azel: I believe that the prophecy of the end is also the prophecy of a new beginning.

Azel: ......

Azel: Now, it is time to awaken from the dream that God has shown you.

The God looked up at the sky.

The people also looked up at the sky.

I looked up at the sky too—and my breath caught in my throat.

The divine moon that illuminated Tanzanite was being dyed a reddish-black.

As if eroding the God, it gradually stole away his divinity.

Azel: "The incarnation of the moon departs from the mundane world, and a new moon is born."

Azel: "The newborn moon pierces through nothingness, and the guaranteed reality also returns to nothingness."

Azel: "May you all awaken from the dream and tread upon the earth of reality."

Azel: From the next dawn, you will build your future with your own feet.

Azel: I look forward to seeing what kind of future the "country of man," free from God's hands, will build.

Everyone's eyes were glued to the disappearing moon, and screams and cries erupted before the end—

A sharp sound pierced through it all, drowning out everything else.

(This sound... it's the gunshot I heard when I was a Belle...)

When I looked back at the stage, the God was no longer there.

Just like the reddened moon, the Living God was also dyed red and lying on the ground.

One by one, the people who noticed were losing their words.

Emma: ...Ah...

My voiceless scream dissolved into the noise of the end.

.

.

.

Romantic Ending Ch. 24 Premium Story

If you’d like to support my translations, feel free to buy me a coffee here! :)

[love-takes-work]

coworker apparently thinks Garnet is Harley Quinn

A very old funny interaction with clueless coworker (whose name is blacked out in the blue rectangles), in screencaps from my social media when it happened.

And just for context, this dude just could not talk his way out of a wet paper bag. I'm sure it's partially just awkwardness (which I have never minded at all), but a lot of it was this really gross disrespectful PROMPTING that he would do in all of his interactions with me. He'd say something with no context, something we'd never spoken about, and expect me to "catch on." (Examples: "So! Any news?" "About what?" "Well weren't we waiting for an ANSWER on that?" "On what?" [scoffing, snuffling, shaking his head exaggeratedly, sighing and walking away]. Or he'd drop a paper on my desk. I'd ask him what it was. He'd wordlessly POINT at it. I'd ask him again what it is. He'd pick it up, sighing aggressively, rattle it around, and say "YOU left this in the COPIER!!" I had not left it in the copier and it was not mine. He would then holler about how is HE supposed to know that and stomp away, and then someone else would come looking for their papers in the copier and they'd be confused why I had them.) He did NOT do this with my boss or most of the other people we worked with. Just me. I guess because I'm the office blonde and usually the only woman in the room.

Anyway, he was in the top 10 of annoying people I've worked with and here is an irritating story.

And then another one a long-ass time later:

Transcript:

Pic 1:

There's no way he's a real person. C'mon, life, quit foolin' around here.

[Redacted] came up to my desk and said he wanted to ask me a question, and then hesitantly hemmed and hawed his way through false starts that sounded like "I was wondering . . . um last night . . . I was thinking . . . there was this thing. . . . So, do you know Amy . . . Quinn?"

I do not know Amy Quinn.

He seemed surprised.

Then he begins explaining that she's in some movie and he thought I liked her.

Sorry, no.

Pic 2:

But then he elaborates. "Amy" is one of the characters in a movie he's just seen and he thought I was a fan of the character and wanted me to know that he liked the movie. And further elaboration made it clear that he . . . was actually talking about Harley Quinn.

(I haven't seen any movies with her in them, but yeah, I know who she is.)

I asked why he thought I had a connection with her and he was like "isn't that her on your cup?"

****Fuuuuuuuuuuck I am so offended****

[Image of Harley Quinn next to coffee mug featuring Garnet of Steven Universe. They do not at all resemble one another, but both wear bodysuits featuring a red leg and a black leg.]

Pic 3:

You gotta be kidding me!!

[redacted] just came over and told me he saw something that he'd been meaning to tell me regarding my cartoon stuff. He fumbled verbally repeating himself and then concluded he didn't remember what it was and would come back.

Then he came back with "I remembered!!" and explained to me that he gets comic book-related events bulletins in his email and a comic store I live nowhere near is having a signing with a comic book writer I've never heard of. He was baffled that I didn't recognize the name because he thought I was "into comics." When I told him I have very niche interests in comics, he elaborated that it was something he thought I was specifically into. Several trips round and round the blunder wheel yielded the information that it was a writer for Harley Quinn comics.

This shit again.

He thinks I like Harley Quinn even though I have never read or watched a single thing about this character. He believes Garnet is Harley Quinn and I can't get him to stop misunderstanding.

[sinnabarmoth]

Tribute for the Dragon (14/18)

(A/N: Sorry about the late update but I was running a fever of 103 and puking a lot so I couldn't finish writing. But I live and so does this story! We're finally at the chapter that prompted this entire fic!)

Pairing: Dragon|Sylus x Fem|Reader

Summary: With Sylus back home you learn exactly how much he has missed you.

Content Warnings: Adult language. Dragon rut. Breeding sex. Breeding kink. P in V. Cunnilingus. Rough sex. Overstimulation. Multiple creampies. Sex on the dais.

Length: 4k

Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13)

Read on AO3

After having a moment to embrace Sylus and take in that he was truly home you grabbed him and took him next door to the workshop. “There’s something I want to show you. Think of it as a welcome home present.”

You led him over to the sculpture you had spent days crafting. It was a tall twisting sculpture meant to look like rising flames. From the base it was a soft blue and melted into colors of red, orange, and yellow as they went up. When on the ground it came up to about your hip. In the flames were hidden figures and shapes like a dragon wing and a wreath of flowers. Tiny moments from your life melted into the flames.

“I was inspired by the sculptures we saw when you took me to see that dragon tradition. I know that you don’t have one and I know it isn’t the same culture wise but I thought you might appreciate it.”

His hand hovered over the sculpture and the fine twisting tendrils that created the dancing flames. “It’s remarkable. You really did this?”

“Mmhmm.” you smiled wide. “Does that mean you like it?”

“I love it.” Sylus gathered you in his arms and kissed you. “You don’t know what this means to me. Thank you.”

“Only question is how to get it home.” you laughed. “I probably should have made it smaller so it was easier to transport.”

“No. I love it exactly as it is and I’ll come back for it later. But first, you said we had to get married?”

“Yes, let’s go get that over with so we can go home.” You grabbed Sylus again and found your father before heading for the church.

It was meant to be a quick affair, just with family and a few close friends but by the time you had grabbed Tara and were on your way back to the church it had been filled with people. You could only guess they were excited to see a dragon get married.

Upon seeing that there was a ton of people waiting your friends grabbed you and hauled you away again to get dressed in something better. You tried to tell them it was just a formality to make your father happy and that you didn’t need the whole ado but they weren’t listening. They had dug out your mother’s old wedding dress for you to put on and spent what felt like an eternity on your hair and make up. You didn’t tell them all this effort was for naught considering that Sylus was going to undo it all the moment you got back to the mountain.

It was strange, last time you had been pampered over like this it was to send you to be killed by a dragon. Now you were marrying one. Funny how life turns out.

When they deemed you ready they let you return to the church. Sylus stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of the church, shuffling his feet as he waited for you to return. You really wished there were less people here. It was awkward enough showing up in an entire wedding dress when he was still in his normal attire but to have the majority of the town seated to watch was not helping. Made you wish you had a bouquet if only for something to grip.

But you made it to the front and had the excuse of holding Sylus’s hands as the ceremony began. “Sorry about all the theatrics. This was supposed to be quick.” you whispered to him.

“It’s fine. Made for a fine excuse to see you in something so pretty.” he whispered back. “Although the virginal white is less than truthful.”

“Sylus!” you hissed at him.

The ceremony continued and you made your vows. “You may now kiss your bride.” the officiant said.

You hesitated for a moment, not wanting to kiss Sylus in front of so many people. Sylus had no such preoccupations and had taken the opportunity to pull you flush against him and kiss you hard. You staggered for a moment as he dipped you slightly. When he pulled back you noticed that he had blocked everyone’s view with his wings.

“Now,” he whispered, “I get to take you home?”

“Yes you do.”

Sylus scooped you up off your feet and strode out of the church before anyone could say any words of congratulations. You were back up in the biting winter air, the village shrinking beneath you as you soared through the grey sky. You looked out over the world and the blanket of snow that covered every inch of it. You knew that it would look amazing from high up.

You snuggled into Sylus’s chest, leeching whatever warmth you could get off of him. You were finally going home.

~~~

In the coming weeks more news came to the village about how the tide of the war was finally turning in the kingdom’s favor. They were expecting a defeat of the enemy soon enough. It was a relief to know that this would hopefully all be over soon. Apparently a lot of troops had fled and abandoned their posts when they had thought that the enemy had dragons to help fight for them. They only had Sylus for a couple weeks but it had done a great deal to help.

Speaking of Sylus he had been especially clingy since returning. Now, Sylus being clingy of you was nothing new. The man loved having you within arms length at any given time. But since coming back he had barely left your side at all. Wherever he was, you had to be. It did not matter what you were doing or what he was doing, you needed to be with him. You’d call it cute but knew how your precious dragon felt about being called cute.

You could practically hear his voice already in that deep baritone. “What is cute about me, little bird? The horns? The claws? Your idea of what is adorable must be horribly skewed if that word fits me.”

He had also been spoiling you rotten. Pampering you like you had never been before. He was doing everything for you and giving you gifts every single day. You figured he was just making up for all the time he was gone. You didn’t want to complain but it started annoying you when he tried to insist on carrying you everywhere. That’s where you finally had to draw a line.

You had finally gotten a moment to yourself when Sylus suddenly disappeared to some other part of the cave. You didn’t know for what reason he had decided to now leave you alone but you were taking advantage of the alone time by taking a relaxing hot bath. Being a dragon’s mate had some great perks, the hot springs were one of them. It always left your skin so warm and extra soft afterwards.

After you were done you redressed and started poking around looking for Sylus. You liked your alone time but now you were curious as to where he had gone. He wasn’t in the bedroom or the kitchen. You decided to try the hoard room next and that was where you finally found him. He was arranging the treasure around the dais in the center.

“Sylus?” your voice rung with an echo in the vast room. “What are you doing?”

He had gone ramrod straight, his tail flicking out and straightening at the sound of your voice. He snapped his gaze up at you and even from across the room you could tell there was a fire in his eyes. A literal fire. You usually only saw his already crimson eyes alight like that when he was angry or…possessive.

He vaulted over the dais, wings erupting from his back as he dove towards you like a hawk chasing its prey. His tail was actually what got you first, looping around your waist and pulling you towards him while he was still midair. He landed, trapping you against the wall. His mouth landed on your neck, biting hard into the soft flesh over your pulse.

“Ah, Sylus,” your voice came out as a gasp.

His tail curled tighter around you, plastering you to him. One hand cradled the back of your head, partly to protect it from hitting the wall and partly to pull it back so he could have better access to your neck. His wings were still out and they cocooned inward, encasing you entirely in his presence and his scent.

“So soft…” he muttered as he lathed the bite mark on your neck with his tongue.

“Not that I’m complaining,” you sighed as he moved to the other side of your neck and began to bite and suck a matching bruise onto your skin. “But can I know why we’re doing this now?”

He pulled back just enough to look in your eyes. The glaze of lust had abated just a bit as he fought for clarity. “It’s nature,” he said. You watched his throat bob as he swallowed, eyes roaming over your face. “Need you. Need all of you to reek of me.”

You were starting to understand. “Mark.” his fingers brushed the bruises on your neck. “Claim. My most precious treasure.”

Oh fuck. Was he in rut?

This was something you had read about during your research. Dragon mating was already intense but nothing about it was that much different from human mating. One glaring and obvious biological difference was a dragon rut.

Dragon ruts had their own quirks that had similarities to other animal mating practices. One factor was that dragons have the impulse to exercise their rut surrounded by their treasure. It’s a way of centering their mate and making them feel safe. The other large part of a rut was the, well, sex part. They needed to make sure their mate was thoroughly marked as their own, and that meant overloading them with their scent and pheromones so no one could mistake that they were already claimed. That also usually meant impregnating them, no better way to claim your mate than that.

“Sylus…” You knew this was something you were going to have to deal with one day but you hadn’t realized it was so soon. Dragons didn’t have regular mating seasons, it was random for each. If you had been paying more attention you would have realized his was upon him. The signs were there. The clingingness, the pampering, the gifts. They were all behaviors dragons exhibited before rut to earn the approval of their mate and let them know they wanted to breed.

“Sylus, I need you to slow down a second.” you managed to get out.

Pulling away from you looked as if it physically pained him. He was breathing hard as he stared at you. “Yes?”

“Are you in rut right now?” you asked, wanting to make sure this is what was absolutely happening.

He nodded. “Meant to talk to you…” his grip on you tightened. “Hard to think straight.”

“Are you…” you swallowed back the nervousness in your voice. “Are you trying to breed me?”

Hearing the word breed he pressed himself closer to your body. You could feel his hard cock pressing against you. “Yes.” he put his mouth back on your neck. “Fucking hells…want to fuck you. Want to breed you. I can’t stop thinking about it.”

“I see…” a rush of warmth spread through you getting the confirmation.

“If you don’t want to you have to tell me now.” he muttered against your skin. “Because when I start I’m not going to be able to stop.” he kept grinding against you. “Need you so bad. Need to have you reeking of me.”

You wrapped your arms around him. “I want to. It’s alright.” you pulled his head back up to look you in the eyes. His gaze was intense and desperate but he was still him behind those glazed eyes. Probably not for long though. “I love you and I want to have a baby with you. Fuck me. Fill me up until you get me pregnant. Please. Please Sylus, I want you to breed me.”

That snapped the last thread of control he had. He crushed his mouth to yours and dragged you over to the dais. His claws dug into the fabric of your clothes and raked them down your back, shredding what you wore to rags. You gave a small squeak of surprise as you felt the ribbons of fabric fall off you. He picked you off your feet and sat your naked ass on the cold smooth stone.

He was wasting no time. But either out of desperation or a humane part of him that was still in control, instead of immediately sinking himself into you he took a knee, threw your legs over his shoulders and started devouring your pussy. He was at least attempting to ready your cunt before he started fucking you. It really was not needed though. The moment you had realized he was in rut you had felt yourself getting excited.

He lapped up what arousal was already staining your thighs and when you were even wetter than you were he shrugged your legs off and stood. He hovered over you, hastily undoing his pants to free his cock. He hadn’t bothered taking them off entirely and instead spread your legs wide and pushed on your chest so you were laying flat on the dais.

Sylus paused, his hand drifting lower to your stomach. “Gonna put a baby in here. Gonna see you swell with my seed. Want to see it so bad.”

He shoved himself into your heat, moaning loudly as he filled and stretched you. “Want to look in your eyes when I get you pregnant.” he began thrusting, holding your hips down as he pistoned in and out of you. “Ah fuck! Gonna fuck a baby into you. Gonna breed you over and over--ah!”

“Sylus!” your whole body was being jostled by the force of his thrusts. If it wasn’t for him holding you in place you were sure you would have slid off the other end of the dais. “Fuck Sylus! Please!”

“Say it!” he growled. “Fucking say it! Need to hear you say it again!”

“Oh gods! Please Sylus! Please! Fuck a baby into me! Breed me! Please!” you begged. Your cunt squeezed down tight around him as the filthy damning words came out of your mouth. You wanted it! You wanted it so damn bad!

He bent close to kiss you hungrily, his thrusts getting faster as he chased his own release. “Gonna do it. Gonna fill you up so much, little bird.” he muttered in a harsh whisper against your lips. “Fill my mate up so much it’ll be leaking out of you for days. Gonna fucking breed this pussy. Fuck!”

He grabbed your hand and pushed it between your bodies so you were touching your clit. “Play with yourself. I want you to come when I breed you.”

You swiped at your clit, pushing your body headfirst into your orgasm. Your cunt clenched and spasmed around his cock and it was enough to finally undo him as well. A hot warmth spread through your cunt as he came deep inside you. He didn’t stop thrusting as he was coming, his com coating his own cock as he kept pushing into you until finally his body slowed and he stopped.

Your legs were shaking but otherwise you were fine. That wasn’t as bad as you thought it would have been. It was definitely intense. When you imagined a dragon rut you were expecting more of a--

Before you could finish the thought Sylus pulled out and flipped you onto your stomach, bending you over the dais. He kicked your legs out so you were spread wide and slammed back into you. Oh gods, you were still going?

His hips bounced off your ass as he railed into you from behind. “Gotta put more in you.” he stressed through clenched teeth. “Need to fill you up.”

“Sy--Sylus, I--ah!” your body was still sensitive from the last orgasm and the way he was pounding you was driving you towards another at a frightening pace.

“Wanna plug up this pussy with my cock. Keep you sat on it all day and just come in you constantly until you’re bred.” he was panting hard. His hands were around your hips to keep you in place and you didn’t know if what you felt trickling down the outside of your thighs was sweat or blood from where his claws broke past your skin. You knew what was sliding down the inside of your thighs at least.

The combination of his cum and your arousal made it so he could glide in and out easily. Your pussy had been stretched to a raw red hole leaking with cum and you knew all he could think about was adding more. Overloading you until you were pregnant. Until he had bred you.

You tried to find some purchase but your feet were slipping on the gold coins scattered around the dais. Fuck you were going to come again! A ripple shot up your spine and left your mouth as a loud cry as you came again. “Sylus!”

“Fuck yes!” he lifted your hips up a bit to meet you at a deeper angle. “Ah fuck yes! Feel so fucking good! Gonna cum in you again. Gonna breed you so good so no one can take you!”

Tears leaked from your eyes as the overstimulation started to fray at your nerves. Your body felt like it was vibrating. You were tripping between pain and pleasure as every thrust, every little touch sent a jolt of electricity across your skin.

“Sylus…” your voice was weak, only able to moan and whine. “Please. Please. Please!”

You weren’t even sure what you were begging for. You wanted something but your brain was nothing but mush. All you could focus on was the tingling along your skin, the burning friction between your legs, the wet slapping sounds of your bodies, and Sylus moaning as he fucked you.

“I’ll give you anything you want.” his voice had deepened, dropping into a growl, “Just get pregnant. Fuck! Please! Get pregnant! Get pregnant! Get pregnant! Get pregnant! Get fucking pregnant!”

He shot into you again, his body stilling as he pumped more of his seed into your already spent and coated cunt. You turned your head to look at him and saw his eyes screwed shut tight, face pinched with concentration, and his body glistening with sweat. When his eyes opened and looked at you they were still glowing red. Oh gods above was he not done?

His eyes roamed over your body lazily before locking in on where you were still joined. There was a deep rumble in his chest that sounded like a growl. He grabbed your ass and parted your cheeks to get a better look. Whatever shreds of Sylus had been there while he was fucking you before had evaporated and you saw a feral animal staring back at you. And his cock was still rock hard and hot in your pussy.

In an instant, without pulling out he pushed your body further up the dais so your feet left the ground. His arms bracketed on either side of you, claws digging into the stone as he laid planked against your back. Then he started rutting against you. No large thrusts, just rutting shallowly over and over.

His breath was hot in your ear as he panted, no longer even speaking. Your hands found the lip of the dais and held on for dear life, nails scratching at the stone. Short keening whines fell from your lips.

Too much! Too sensitive! Sylus wasn’t giving you any break between orgasms, if he even noticed them at all. He was too far gone in his own world. You tried to breath, to squirm away to give yourself a second to breathe but you were thoroughly pinned underneath him.

You whimpered and moaned, unable to stop the orgasm from drawing steadily closer again. Hot tears were streaming down your face. It felt good! It felt too good! You’d never been driven this far into pleasure before and that was saying something considering how often you and Sylus had sex.

You cried out and it must have sounded enough like you were in pain that Sylus stopped. Maybe you were in pain. You couldn’t fucking tell anymore!

“Need to stop?” he asked, his voice quiet and tense with control. He brushed the tears away from your eyes. “Hurting you?”

You shook your head. “Good…feels good…” you took a second to breathe until the worst of your trembling had abated. “I’m good now. Keep going.”

“Certain?” he asked. You could feel his cock twitching inside you. His body was shaking with the need to move. Yet he was still checking on you.

“I’m certain. Keep fucking me.” you said, taking in a shaky breath. “Breed me. Please Sylus. Breed my pussy!”

His hands stretched and covered yours where you were holding onto the edge of the dias. Then he began fucking you again, rutting even faster.

The top of the mountain must have broken off because you swore you were seeing stars. You had no idea that sex could feel this good! “Ah yes! Yes! Yes! Fucking hell yes! Sylus!” you chanted his name over and over. “Come with me! Please!” your voice slurred. “Want you to come with me Sylus!”

His hands gripped yours tighter.  Your toes curled, your eyes shut, and you screamed in pleasure as you came again. Your brain had fully left your body and you were floating in the heavens. The only thing you could hear was the deafening roar that left Sylus as he came in you a third and final time.

You were shaking violently, your body still hyper-sensitive and crashing through wave after wave of arousal. Sylus was shuddering on top of you. You could feel his forehead pressing against the back of your skull, his breath tickling your damp neck as he came back to reality with you. The warmth between your legs was red hot but you finally felt his dick going soft again.

As gently as he was capable he rolled to his side, taking you with him. “Are you alright?” he asked, his voice hoarse.

“Yeah…I think so…shit…” your body was limp and useless now.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “You were crying awfully hard.”

“Felt too good.” you told him. “But I’m alright. I promise.”

“I’m going to pull out now. Deep breath.” he said, pressing a reassuring kiss to the back of your neck. He pulled you off his dick and you cried out again. A flood of warmth spilled out of your cunt, no longer plugged up by Sylus’s cock. “It’s alright, I’m right here. You’re alright.” he spoke soothingly.

His hands rubbed up and down your arms. Like massaging out a sore muscle he was simultaneously activating and banishing the sensitivity lingering over your body. “Sorry for being so rough with you.” he said, kissing your temples. “It was hard to keep cognizant during it. It wasn’t until you reeked of me that I started to come back to my senses.”

“It was vigorous, I will say that much.” your body had melted against him and you turned in his arms so you could look at him. It was hard to do considering how sore your body still was and Sylus helped move you. He wrapped his arms around you, and even his tail had curled around your leg.

“I had meant to talk to you about ruts before this happened. I thought I had more time.” he said. “How did you know I was in rut?”

“Found a book in the village that detailed a lot about dragon mating practices, including ruts.” you nestled into his chest, “I would have liked a little more warning but you live and you learn.”

“You did so well. Love you so much.” he kissed you gently. “Do you think you’ll be alright for the rest of the rut?”

Your eyes went wide. “What do you mean the ‘rest of the rut?’ Did we not just finish?”

“Guess that book you found didn’t tell you everything.” he smirked. “Dragon ruts don’t end after getting off one time--”

“I think you got off like three times.”

Sylus rolled his eyes. “Dragon ruts can last over a week, sometimes even an entire month.”

Your jaw dropped. “A month? Are you saying that you are going to fuck me like that everyday for a month?”

“A month is an extreme case, most likely I’ll only be like this for a week.”

“Still! Why is it so long? I think you more than got me pregnant today!”

“And the rut doesn’t stop until I know for sure. I’ll be able to smell the change.” his hand drifted down to rest against your stomach. “Usually takes a week to be able to tell so that’s why it lasts that long.”

“I see.” you took in a deep breath. Your rested your hand over his. “This…this is really happening, isn’t it? We’re going to have a baby.”

The smile nearly split his face. “Yes. I know that you said yes when we started but is this truly what you want? To have and carry my children? There’s every chance that you didn’t get pregnant so if you want to wait we can wait. The rut will pass on its own.”

“I want this. I can’t wait to start a family with you.” you kissed him again, joyful tears brimming in your eyes.

“Neither can I.” he pulled your thigh over his hip. “Good thing too cause I’m ready to take you again.”

“Oh dear gods above.”

[phossiii]

｡𖦹°‧⭑ monsters: chapter seven

synopsis: you get into some shenanigans while on the run, reminders of your past coming back to haunt you in the process. and phosphorus comes to a life changing conclusion about you.

cw: reader is a monster, mature themes, violence, profanity, innuendos, phosphorus is phosphorus, this one's a doozy, reader deserves the world, mahalat is just... mahalat.

The sound of soft panting forced you to slowly come to, a faint groan leaving your lips as your eyes fluttered open, greeted by the sight of an irradiated back and the visible spine underneath.

'Phos...'

You attempted to move, but winced, your entire body aching from head to toe, and your strength not yet returned to break free from his hold.

Not to mention your mind was exhausted from the mental battle you fought to regain control over your body.

Healing be damned, you felt like you'd been hit by an eighteen-wheeler...

"Morning, sleepyhead," Phosphorus sang, looking both ways before quickly running across a back-alley street, just barely avoiding a Pokolistani jeep. "Sweet dreams?"

"Where the hell are we?" you grumbled, weakly lifting your head and turning to face him.

"A town, I think," he answered, making a sharp right turn. "If I had to guess, I'd say it's the last one before we reach the castle."

"Where are the others?"

"Couldn't tell ya. After we got split up, and you decided to drop by, I high-tailed it. The police were on my ass."

"Still are," you scoffed with a chuckle, nodding to the faint sirens in the background. "This your first time dodging the cops, princess?"

"I wouldn't be so quick to complain, snoozy. I'm still waiting for when it's time for us to switch."

"Like hell I'm carrying you. By the time I get back to prison, I'll be on chemo for the rest of my life."

"Demons don't get cancer."

"Skeletons don't have dicks."

"You gonna keep bringing that up?"

"I—" "Shush."

Sliding between two houses, he effortlessly hopped a brick wall, dropping the both of you into a bush just as two more jeeps drove past.

Using his hands, he put you down and pulled apart a few branches, peeking to see if the coast was clear.

You, on the other hand, were starting to really wake up, realizing that you seemed to have a fresher injury on your backside.

"Fuck, why does my ass hurt, too?" you groaned, rubbing it in an attempt to soothe the pain.

"Well... I may have smacked it once," Phosphorus admitted, suspiciously. "Or twice... possibly three times... a little over four? Honestly, I lost count after tenth or twelfth time."

SMACK!

"You keep doing that. It turns me on more than you think," he chuckled, adjusting his jaw.

"Pervert!" you whisper-yelled, pissed. "We talked about this! Hooker rules!"

"No kissing on the mouth?"

"Stripper rules."

"What was I supposed to do? You've seen your ass, you should be proud I held out as long as I did," he defended, the two of you standing up and pressing against the side of the house, using the roof as cover from the helicopters.

"Oh, yeah? And how long was that?"

"Five minutes."

"You're impossible."

Managing to reach the front door, Phosphorus melted the handle, unlocking it and allowing you both to slip inside before the search-light could catch you.

Panting, the two of you finally took a moment to breathe, looking around to familiarize yourselves with your surroundings.

"Here," you sighed, pulling off his lab coat and tossing it to him as you headed toward the living room. "I'm changing."

'Fuckin' Christ...'

He could practically feel his pants tightening at the sight of you, naked as the day you were born—save for your boots.

You looked so sexy in the moonlight, and your unabashed confidence only added to the appeal.

"Y'know..." he cleared his throat, shoving his arms through the sleeves before rolling them up. "I think now's a good a time as any to take a nice break. Relax... kick up your feet... let off a little steam..."

"Save it," you scoffed, opening the hallway closet and rummaging around until you found a black trash bag. "We've got enough to worry about."

In the bag was a secret stash of clothes, ranging on a scale of scandalous to downright slutty.

'Perfect.'

Fishing around, you managed to pull out a pair of black, open-stitch, boot-cut jeans, a matching jean jacket, and a black, leather bikini top.

"And just my size," you grinned, quickly tugging them on.

"How'd you know that stuff was there?" Phosphorus asked, confused.

"She's a pretty woman in a European country. Nine times out of ten, she was a party girl at some point," you explained, nodding to the photos on the wall as you tied up the pants. "But she grew up. Got a husband... bought a house... had a kid. They can't see this filth, but she doesn't have the heart to throw away the memories along with it. So she shoves it in a garbage bag and stuffs it in the back of the closet."

The man turned, examining the pictures, quite surprised to see that your educated guess was correct.

She was pretty, and she had a husband and daughter.

A daughter... whose face reminded him so much of his son.

"M'catchin a few more Zs before we move on," you announced, adjusting the jacket as you plopped yourself down on the couch, closing your eyes.

"Uh huh," he answered, mindlessly, as he continued to stare at the photo.

A daughter... whose face reminded him so much of his son.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"Please! Have mercy!" your mother wailed, frantically struggling against her binds as she looked around the room, searching for a kindred face past the velvet hoods. "I'll do anything!... Oh, God! I'll give you anything you want!"

But not a single one of them stopped, the entire room of cultists pressing on like she wasn't even there, continuing to bow in sync around the altar she rested upon.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat! Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"M-Money! I have money! Say whatever number, I'll give it to you!" she begged, gasping and choking for air as she attempted to get her words out, tears rolling down her cheeks in rivulets. "My house! Take my house! It's all yours! Please!"

Out from the darkness, the Grand Master emerged—along with his two attendants—a silver tray in hand.

On it were only two things:

A wooden bowl... and a ceremonial dagger.

"Oh, God!" your mother sobbed, pulling violently against the ropes that strapped her pregnant self to the table. "Please! Have mercy!... I haven't done anything wrong!"

But he drew nearer still, one of the attendants taking the tray as they reached the table, the Grand Master taking the dagger.

The handle was made entirely out of human bone, its carvings depicting the souls of the damned and their infinite torture in Hell.

Reverently, he grasped it with both hands, carrying it over until the dagger's pointed tip was aimed directly for your mother's heart.

"Please..." she pleaded for the final time, unable to stop the second wave of tears from flowing down her cheeks. "Not my baby."

But her pleas fell on deaf ears, the Master's face stone cold as he plunged the knife into her heart, her screams of pain muffled by the raging thunder and lightning outside.

Quickly taking the bowl, the Master used it to catch her blood as it spilled from her chest, waiting until the woman lost consciousness before pulling away.

"Tekchau ma'at tu na ekk bay pavak!" he bellowed, dipping his two fingers in the blood before drawing an intricate symbol over your mother's pregnant belly.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

Suddenly, the satanic markings on the wall began to glow dark red, illuminating the room with a presence that would make any sane person turn tail and run.

"Sunuk zetam ma'ak kula baa nat su da Mahalat!"

"TEKCHAU MA'AT TU NA EKK BAY PAVAK!"

"SUNUK ZETAM MA'AK KULA BAA NAT SU DA MAHALAT!"

Roaring with passion, the Master stabbed your mother in the stomach, violently tearing it open as the followers mimicked the sound.

And with a deafening, other-worldly shriek, a malevolent shadow burst from the wound, instantly slashing the Master's throat before moving on to the others.

Blood-curdling creams of panic and terror echoed throughout the room as the followers were murdered left and right, unable to escape as the being had locked all the doors and windows.

Amidst the chaos, one of the attendants rushed to your mother's side, dodging flying limbs and splattering blood.

Sadly, your mother was long dead, but the attendant was quick to reach her hands inside her stomach, quickly fishing around before grasping onto the reason for this whole ritual.

You.

Carefully, she pulled your tiny body out, a smile breaking out onto her face at the sight of your reddened skin, pointed ears, and tail.

You were beautiful...

But her happiness was short lived, the shadow-being finishing off the last follower before zooming over to you, entering your body through your nostrils and successfully possessing your infant self.

Instantly, your tail whipped up and stabbed the attendant in the neck, forcing her eyes wide.

With a sickening slice, you slashed her throat, dropping her to the ground.

She died almost immediately... but not without uttering two final words.

"Praise Mahalat."

"Ladies and Gentlemen! It is my pleasure tonight to show you an act that had never been performed in the history of the world!" the ringmaster announced, his proud statement met with the starry eyes of hundreds of children and parents.

"Tonight... I debut the newest headliner of my show! A marvel by which the likes of you have never seen!"

Nervously, a six year-old you shifted on your feet, waiting patiently on the riser for your cue.

This was going to be your first time performing in front of an audience...

"We've pulled out all the stops tonight! Of course, for the audience, but also for a very special guest we have this evening! Everyone! Please give a big, warm welcome to Mr. Vice President [REDACTED]! And his lovely wife!"

The crowd roared with applause as the spotlight moved to him, the Vice President giving a proud smile and a strong wave before the ringmaster returned to his introduction.

"Now without further ado, I present to you the Hellish Wonder! The Monstrous Spectacle! The Flying Demon of Gotham! (y/n)!"

Quickly, you grabbed your bar, pushing off and swinging directly into the spotlight, earning loud gasps of surprise and wild roars of applause.

Using your momentum, you dismounted, performing three forward flips before Greta—a fellow trapeze artist—caught you by your ankles, swinging in the other direction.

The crowd ooed and ahhed at your display, watching intently as you performed moves that had never been done before—with about as much effort as wiggling your pinky toe.

"You are doing wonderful, (y/n)!" Greta encouraged as she swung over, catching you by your ankles before gravity took her back the way she came.

"Really?!" you asked, eagerly, relieved to hear that you were doing well, and that the crowd was loving the show.

"Ja!" she laughed, warmed by your excitement. "A few more moves and you'll be done! Make me proud!"

As she swung forward again, you let go, doing five backflips in a row before grabbing onto a rope, using it to swing yourself around to the audience.

There, you leaned over, giving high-fives to all the kids as you flew past.

"Cool!"

"Awesome tail!"

"Look at her horns!"

You were over the moon, baffled by all the overwhelming positivity you were greeted with.

In fact, you were so over the moon that you'd failed to pay attention to the last kid, your nail grazing his palm a little too harshly and drawing blood.

"Ouchie!"

The instant you got a whiff... it was all over.

"Time to feed!" Mahalat's voice cackled in your mind, forcing you to gasp and lose focus.

She took over in an instant, launching you at the boy and clamping your fangs down on his arm, tearing it from his socket.

The surrounding crowd let out screams of horror as you began to feast right then and there, tearing into the limb like a feral animal.

But the demon wasn't one to let food go to waste.

Opening your mouth, she flew into the air, spinning around as she blew blazing hellfire in all directions.

The crowds of hundreds trying to escape the big top were immediately set aflame, shrieks of agony and torture bounding through the air.

"(y/n)!" Greta shouted, swinging over and landing on your back, throwing an arm around your neck. "Stop this! You are hurting them!"

But it all went in one ear and out the other, Mahalat grabbing her by her face before effortlessly tearing her head off her shoulders, preventing her from saying anything else.

In a bout of irony, the demon bit her lips off, taking the head as she flew through the roof of the tent, leaving the countless families to burn to death as she soared through the night sky.

Enjoying her midnight snack.

"What the—? Where am—AAAAAAAAAH!" you shrieked, eyes shooting wide as they landed on the sight before you.

An absolute massacre...

Viscera flooded the closed off street, slowly sinking into the city sewers as the rain attempted to wash it away.

Half-eaten, dismembered limbs were strewn everywhere—in the punch bowl, on the buffet table, hell, you had someone's leg in your arms.

Your mouth and hands were covered with blood, the taste of human meat fresh on your tongue.

And all you had done was leave to go to the store...

"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!" you frantically threw away the leg, trembling violently as your hands moved to tightly grasp your hair.

Even the children weren't safe, a tiny hand with a Dora the Explorer watch sitting not too far away.

"These are the consequences of your rebellion, (y/n)..." Mahalat stated, coldly. "You forget your place."

Horrified, you turned around, utterly hysterical as you barfed up a bloody mess.

Eventually, though, you caved, racked with sobs as you crumpled into yourself, wanting nothing more than to be arrested and put to death.

But fate had other plans, the Dark Knight himself swooping in as your angel of mercy.

As he stood over you, surveying the scene, his expression dropped slightly in an uncharacteristic bout of pity.

Especially when you weakly grabbed onto his cape.

"Please..." you begged, voice barely above a whisper. "Kill me."

"Yana!" a voice shouted, snapping you out of your sleep.

Abruptly, you sat up, eyes frantically scanning over the room in search of Phosphorus.

But he was nowhere to be found.

'Shit.'

Jumping off the couch, you used your sense of smell, following his scent all the way to backyard.

The backyard... where he was playing with a little girl.

And the backyard... where her mother and father were less than pleased.

"I'm sorry," he apologized, carefully putting the girl down and letting her run back to her parents. "We were just... pretending to fly."

Sensing the sincerity in his voice, you saved the scolding, deciding not to ask questions.

'We gotta get moving.'

"C'mon," you sighed, grabbing his arm and dragging him toward the fence as you turned to the parents. "Thank you for the clothes!"

You let him hop over first before following, waiting until you both got a good distance away from the house before you spoke up.

For the very first time since you'd known him, he was completely silent, not saying a word as you trudged over a grassy hill.

Not one pun.

Not one sex joke.

Not even a single pass at you.

Just... nothing.

It worried you, making an odd string to tug at your heart and force you to get to the bottom of it.

"Phos?" you started, softly, resting a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

Lifting his head, he turned to you, eyes widening as—for a split second—your expression morphed into that of his late wife.

Right then and there, it felt as if his whole paradigm shifted, the jigsaw pieces of his life seeming to fall into place right before him.

Taking the shape of you.

Your laugh... your smile... your warmth—they were things he wanted to be in the presence of well-past the end of the mission.

He wanted you, past a friend or a fuck, but as someone to stay by his side, someone to hold.

Someone to care about again...

"Alex..." he blurted, unable to take his eyes away from your face. "Call me Alex."

Surprised, your eyes widened slightly, a familiar burn rising to your cheeks at his intense stare.

But the shock was quick to subside, replaced with understanding as you stopped in your tracks, smoothly taking his hand in yours.

Intently, he watched, your touch singeing his skin as you held his hand, flashing him a coy smile.

"Alright, Alex... let's go kill a princess.

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

i almost bailed on new year’s because i was sleepy and the weather was horrendous, but it was three short blocks from my apartment and i’d said i’d go so i really had no excuse; when i got there for a moment i was worried it was populated exclusively by Fashionable Gay People, but then i peered into another room and found the mutual aid contingent and was relieved even as i remembered with amusement a few parties ago, back in october, someone remarking, not harshly, on our collective habit of going to parties to talk to the same 10-20 people we already know. the first thing i did in 2025 was go see no, the gael garcia bernal movie about the campaign to vote no on the 1988 plebiscite on pinochet; the second was family brunch; the third was watching the shop around the corner and confirming i am truly jimmy stewart pilled now. thursday i got a great haircut and hung out in the mulberry street library reading js&mn (i have most recently arrived at the portion after strange comes home from the war) and met a friend for dinner before seeing teeth, my second time getting around to a michael r. jackson musical just in time for closing week; not a perfect show but a wild time and i’m very glad he gets to be out there doing his thing. friday i got pleasantly fucked up and went out dancing until 3:30 in the morning with like ten people all of whom once again know each other because we like making it possible for people to get free stuff, which i guess one day i will accept is just my life now but on some level has not yet sunk in. i thought a lot as i have been thinking a lot about how for my entire twenties and then some loneliness was the defining color in my emotional landscape and i am still awkward and neurotic and shy but that just isn’t true anymore, when i thought it would be true forever. an absurdly cool trans girl i know told me she loved my hair and i went to sleep having achieved my step count for friday and saturday mostly in the span of about four hours. saturday i thought was to be for laundry and sleep but n. said a movie was playing he remembered loving so i made it into the city (after laundry) to watch todo mudo, a 1976 political thriller with a somewhat inscrutable plot (to me, knowing nothing about italian politics after the fall of rome other than that mussolini happened) and impeccable vibes, and back at home i managed to muster up the will for full body day to hit my fifth workout of the week, because i am very tough and brave.

today i tutored for the first time in two weeks and screwed up what was supposed to by my second by forgetting my own schedule, but it’s fine. i reviewed & resolutioned & brought my mom a change of clothes at the hospital and made a little page i can duplicate in my planning app that looks just like my little notebook weekly log pages except it lives in my ipad :) i have had an extremely good staycation and already have a series of nice things to look forward to in the days ahead. i feel very lucky here at the dawn of 2025. i keep thinking that, over and over.

[quirekey]

HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! You don’t have to do this request right now since it’s probably new years where you live rn and you’re probably celebrating! You can do this whenever you’re free!

I just wanted to ask if you could do pt 2 of Chase and the singing reader fic?? I really loved it 😿🩵

Ty!! And once again, happy new years!!!🫶🫶🫶

LOL I’m glad you loved it! Also mb for the late one, mootie :[

[ CHASE ] x [ FEMME!READER ]

[ chase x human!femme!singer!reader ] [ part 2 ]

Part 1

“Well done, (Y/N), you have gained my trust and admiration.”

You turned to see Chase beside the Chief, he’s stoic and blushing… You knew Chase a little, how liked to sing but he wasn’t good at it or that he memorised all of the laws and rules on both Cybertron and Griffin Rock.

”Thank you, Chase. You're not bad yourself.”

START OF PART 2

The Chief looked up at Chase with a suspicious expression, now knowing Chase’s little secret. Chase looked back with his solid face, to everyone it seemed normal but Charlie knew Chase better than anybody else.

”Hey, wanna celebrate your attempt at the firehouse? I bet Blades would love to hear your voice too!”

”Hm… Sure, I got no food at home since I forgot to buy some so why not?”

Dani then grabbed your hand and started dragging you back to the firehouse while laughing. I guess you're walking today. Kade followed from behind while Graham, Boulder, Charlie and Chase stayed back to make sure the rest of the auditions went smoothly. Chase was urging to transform and follow you and the other two back, both worried that he couldn’t spend time with you and that you could be unsafe. Charlie placed a hand on Chase’s leg and gave him a nod of reassurance, this did sooth Chase somewhat.

When the auditions ended, the 4 made their way back. They came into the firehouse and expected a massive party, but they were wrong. It was just you and Dani feasting on snacks while watching a show with Kade standing behind taking handfuls of popcorn into his mouth. Blades watched too and Heatwave just leaned on the wall and observed the celebration. It was pretty humorous in a way. Chase immediately went to stand beside you as you sat on the couch and watched the show with you.

Sure, it looked like he was watching the movie too but in his head, it was different from reality. He wanted to make a move and maybe ask if you enjoyed detective analogs and how the law worked since everybody else enjoyed it (they didn’t, they just didn’t want to tell him the truth).

Days pass and finally, a quiet day in Griffin Rock comes by and blesses the poor fella. Chase had a chance to have a long and casual conversation with you without any interruptions. You were hanging out at the Firehouse to celebrate your role in the play by having dinner with the Burns. He went up to you and-

“(Y/N), do you perhaps have any song suggestions? Cody said it’s more enjoyable to have sound to accompany you when you are driving alone.”

”Hm? I don’t have many, no… I usually listen to Vocaloids or generally Japanese songs. I don’t think there’s anything that I like that would interest you.”

”Oh. May I listen to these ‘vocaloid’ songs then?”

“Well an iconic one I know is The Vampire, I think it’s pretty!”

You cleared your neck and started to softly sing said song. You were pretty shy so you kept your voice down but to a point where Chase could hear you. Your voice was so calming and automatically made his spark melt. You looked stunning in his optics and he wouldn’t trade you for anything.

”So, did you like it?”

”… Yes, it was enjoyable.”

Chase’s reply lingered for a bit in the air as you waited for the rest of his reply.

”(Y/N), is it possible for you to give me singing lessons? I do wish to try singing on my own but seemingly Heatwave dislikes it. I suppose you could help me since you have perfected your skills in music and tone.”

”Oh? Well, I’d be honored!”

The end :)

Unless there's a few that want a part 3

[somefishycat]

WIP Wednesday 1/1/2025

Staying caught up so far, possibly because the WIPs I got the most requests for (particularly 5 Years, which I started publishing this weekend!) are also the ones my brain wants to write right now. Sentences and Bead Flapjack under cut:

marble wall 2 for @balthazarusrex @skarabrae-stone

Hunter points to something in a large box. Luz picks a dark piece of cloth out of it, holding it pinched between two fingers like something gross. She says something Gus can't hear, and Hunter responds. Gus leaves them to whatever that's about. They'll tell him later, if it's important. He needs to shop for himself!

marble wall 3 for @oriharaizayadividesintoslytherin

She leads the way back to the living room, looking behind her several times to see that everyone is following. She stops at the body lying on the floor, staring down at it for a long moment. “Okay, so, I know you said you wanted to go directly in the ground, and I respect that, but can I make a suggestion?”

ones left behind for @eriquin @catboy-jupiter @zyrafowe-sny @sweetbeanma @aparticularbandit

@tamsinswriting

Eber crawls forward, trying to reach the beast's face without being torn to shreds. It's flatter than most avians; Eda does not have a beak like many feathered demons do. She does, quite clearly, have a full set of teeth. Several sets of teeth? Sharp. He hooks an arm around her neck. The feathers are long and thick here, nearly as long as flight feathers. Pulling them out would hurt her. Eber tries to be gentle, but, well. Holding a beast’s head still when they're trying to kill you is difficult to do gently. “You're okay,” Raine says. “Just drink this. We're trying to help you.” The beast jerks her head away again, and several long feathers fall out, some of them still ending in tiny droplets of blood. Shit. This isn't going to work. Eber tries to back away from the sharp teeth, and— Her eyes. Her eyes catch the light and reflect it back at him, pupils huge like a nocturnal creature in the dark.

5 Years for @wizisbored @kalira @whimsicalmeerkat @sarosthewizarddude @twyrewolf

@auburnlaughter @asha10100101010 @nonbinary-octopus

JUICE: hi dr cass i have questions … CASS: You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. What do you want to know? JUICE: uh you said i'm supposed to explore how will i know what to do i don't think i know very much … CASS: Maybe you're not aware of it yet, but I promise you, everything you need to know is all in your brain already. Thousands of people worked very hard for more than a decade to make sure you were fully prepared for this mission. We’ll still be here to help as much as we can, of course, but you’ve noticed how long it takes to communicate with Earth. At some point you'll have to make decisions on your own. You’ll do fine. You passed all the tests years ago. [Article: Juice aces Callisto flyby test] JUICE: huh i don't really remember that very well like the information is there if i think about it. like part of me remembers zoomin through space past callisto but its like fragmented and weird like i was there and i didn't know why and i didn't think anything was wrong even though i knew it was impossible i wasn't awake then is that what dreaming is like? i guess if i could literally do it in my sleep it'll be fine next question: why? why jupiter … [Cass infodumps about icy moons and their potential for life] JUICE: holy SHIT you're a nerd

Bead Flapjack for @tildeathiwillwrite @stonemaskedtaliesin

Before and after photos, as usual. I... should probably have been using some sort of form to work around this whole time, I don't know how I feel about the shape of that crest now, but oh well. I think I just need a few more rows before I can split it into two points.

[unsen]

someone did some fucked up shit like real fucked up shit then stopped responding and when i realized they weren’t gonna respond i told them “i’ll haunt you like your dead grandma” and apparently that’s the worst thing anyone has ever said to this person and im sorry girl but i hope someone who isn’t a nice person is mean to you one of these days

[brofightiscancelled]

okay ill bite why do u hate kaoru sakuraba sidem aside from the fact that they went from hokuto as a main blue to downgrade to kaoru. to make it less awkward that I’m asking abt sidem on ur osomatsu side blog, what sidem idols would u assign to each matsu ?

i think sideM should collab w osomatsu-san and put them all in Beit so they can all get JOBS!!!!!!

anyways i hate kaoru from idolmaster sideM. i need all my osomatsu-san side blog followers to know that i hate this man. "i need a lot of money fast to pursue an extremely niche medical research track, which is why i quit my stable and high paying job as a surgeon to become an idol while having no soft skills, physical strength or stamina, or interest in getting along with people" are you Stupid??

he's not even using his idol clout to spread awareness of the rare disease he's trying to cure (like SEM does) so it can secure funding, he sees it 100% as a job and refuses to have fun, he is actively unpleasant and uncooperative in every interaction with his coworkers because he's trying to "rise to the top". it seems like the only thing he has going for him are his looks and that he kind of liked to sing when he was a kid. why not become a model at that point when you have the personality of a wet tree trunk. or better yet why not STAY A FUCKING DOCTOR!!!!!

also, i don't like meganes, so write that down.