#something that i DID resonate with and then i went from there. so i guess what im trying to say its one thing to share what i learned

[minervadashwood]

i watched a movie tonight called i saw the tv glow, and it was a movie about trans identity.

I especially resonated with the theme of wanting to stay in your comfort place. But when you begin realizing you are different, you also realize that your comfort place cannot contain the new you. so, you have to decide whether to block out the new you and continue to live the life that comforts you. Or to acknowledge and become your new self, while potentially giving up your home and family (both literally and metaphorically.)

*

I didn't realize I was nonbinary until my 30s. That is when I discovered the concept existed. Of course, I always felt left out, "off", or forced to play a role.

In my adulthood, after going through therapy for childhood emotional and physical abuse, I maintain the semblance of a normal relationship with my family. I've come out to them all. My parents either did not understand or pretended not to. My brothers said they understood, but afterwards acted like it didn't happen.

I'm reminded of the concept of the "unsayable" in literature and in life. Sometimes language fails us--or we know the words to say but cannot speak them. Fortunately, this is rarely a problem for me.

However, it is a problem for most people I was close to before I came out. My family cannot talk about any LGBTQIA topic without my parents clamming up, or later saying "I just think something went bad in the way those people were raised."

Ironically enough, I could be evidence of that erroneous claim. My gender was policed frequently when I was growing up, even well into adulthood. I know now it's because they were afraid of me being a lesbian. Jokes on them, I don't have a gender and don't care all that much about sex with anyone.

Every time they plan a "girls" night, or mom buys gifts for her "daughters" (my sisters in law and me). Or I am excluded from activities my brothers plan because it's a guy thing." I get left out 2-fold, relegated to socializing with my SILs and not my siblings, and dismissing my gender completely. Probably one of the most hurtful conversations recently is how joyous my entire family was upon learning my SIL's upcoming baby is a boy. Finally someone else to carry on the family name. Guess my family is carrying on another tradition: making a lifetime's worth of assumption assumptions about a child based on what's between their legs.

*

I turn 40 this month. My parents will likely pass away before I turn 50. I will miss them. I cry thinking of it. But I also wonder if it won't be freeing, too. I have in many ways outgrown the person they think I am, the person the subtly try to make me with underhanded comments or--even worse--their silence.

"I love you," they will say. But can they? Can they love the person I have become? The person I am now? Perhaps they are limited to loving me conceptually. Daily, I try to make my peace with that.

I don't have a replacement or "found" family. At least not yet. I have friends and a partner who accept me. But there is not that sense of acceptance and belonging to a group, the surety of unconditional love among more than two people.

Many of us are familiar with stories of outright rejection. Of parents disowning their children, of banishing them from home. It's heartbreaking, and those stories need to be told. I'll listen raptly every time someone shares one with me.

But perhaps there are other stories we can pay attention to. The less overt rejections, the conditional acknowledgements, the subtle erasure of our identities in favor of conformity and feigned ignorance.

I'd like to hear those more. This one was mine.

[puppyeared]

whenever someone asks me for help or advice i want to beam all my lived experience and advice that helped me through it directly into their mind to try and spare them as much pain and stress as possible, but because i cant actually do that what ends up happening is i dump everything i know related to that topic hoping something helps them like

[dadbots]

Had a pretty fun weekend. :)

[cosmictheo]

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓𝐒 | feyd-rautha

( gif credits to @wondrousashes )

—summary: on a calm day back at your home, you shattered away the serenity as you decide to confront feyd about his alleged concubines and the little secrets he seemed so cautious to hide, pushing him further and further to the edge. —pairing: feyd-rautha harkonnen x female!atreides!reader —word count: 4k —warnings: arranged marriage, jealousy, a bit of implied smut (the actual smut is coming up in the next and last chapter !!!), mentions of sex, mentions of cannibalism, feyd being a slut for the reader (as he should), mentions of killing and death, hot and very passionate love confessions, definitely ooc!feyd.

writer’s note: english is not my mother tongue, so please forgive me if there is a grammatical error. hope you like it!

ᯓ★ part one ── part two ── part three (coming soon)

The week at Giedi Prime went by so fast that you hardly noticed any of it. The first day had been a bit slow and tedious, but the ones that followed turned out to be more than agreeable and enjoyable, Feyd-Rautha had been very concerned about keeping you entertained and as comfortable as possible, showing you every corner of the palace and walking you around the city.

But for now, you were back at your home for the last visit you would have there before becoming a Harkonnen. Feyd was staying close to you through all the reunion, naturally, diplomatically greeting your family.

“You met his cannibal lovers yet?” Paul's voice echoed inside your head between Feyd's conversations with Duke Leto, your gaze drifting to your brother in absolute alarm, horrified at the question and relieved that, so far, the answer was negative.

“There are rumors that tell how his concubines feed on the hearts of his dead opponents.” Your brother propelled you with the oh-so-cute information about your future husband. “The bastard has not one, but three. I guess you'll have to battle it out with them for his love, that was Duncan said.”

“Stop it, don't be an idiot.” You snapped back at him, averting your gaze from him to Feyd-Rautha, who was conversing ever so formally with Lady Jessica now.

You couldn't imagine him eating of human flesh, nor fucking three different women at the same time. Although, rumors always started from something and during the few times you had been able to get inside Feyd's head, you hadn't seen anything that was remotely pretty or light.

Paul's words managed to resonate in your head, lingering between the walls with a sense of suspicion.

Maybe that was why he never showed you the intimacy of his chambers... because on his bed lay three women compliantly awaiting for his attention and lust.

For some reason, the false image of him fucking them, bodies intertwined and interlinked, voices whimpering and moaning, made you feel respulsive, your guts twisting like a serpent.

You didn't want to believe it was jealousy, but again, your mind never wanted you to believe anything at all.

The palace of the Atreides stood majestically between rocky mountains, with the golden sunlight falling beautifully on the grayish stone walls, bringing in a warm afternoon. Rising magnificently behind your back, standing like a rocky guardian.

Your gaze was on Feyd-Rautha as you walked together along the outskirts balconies of the castle, your greenish dress swaying in the sea breeze, as did your hair, which you wore unusually loose that day, the sweet smell of it had him crazy.

“Do you like it?” You asked him after a few moments of silence, with a hint of a smile that Feyd noticed as he turned to look at you, noticing as well how you waited expectantly for his opinion of your home, which he knew you always held close to your heart.

After a second, he nodded his head, looking at you intently. “I do.”

His blue eyes, which looked as clear as ever under the natural glow of the place followed you as you walked beside him, keeping himself close to you, he could feel the natural warmth of your body and the sweet smell of your scent.

It was the first time you saw his eyes showing their true color, for back in his home, they rarely reflected so much brightness and his orbs glowed so beautifully in the sunlight. They possessed the most beautiful shade of blue, reminding you of the ocean, of home.

“It's nothing like my home.” Feyd-Rautha added in a more amused, lighter tone of voice, with a tiny smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, lowering his gaze to the ground, noting how the grass softened each of his steps on it.

“Obviously. Caladan is everything that Giedi Prime and Arrakis are not.” You answered him, snorting the words out with a soft chuckle that was carried away by the wind, turning your head to look at him once you stopped at the edge of a greenish cliff after descending one of the many rocky staircases that rose up through the hills.

The sea stretched into the immensity of the horizon and the water was uncommonly calm, waves lapping the shore relentlessly. It was a calm and peaceful scene out there, quite the opposite of what you felt inside, as you felt a tempest of emotions raging in your soul.

“Have you been with someone else like this?”

There was another one of your little questions again.

And he pondered the answer, dragging his eyes as blue as the ocean itself in front of them, back to you.

But Feyd-Rautha was rather certain that you already knew the answer, that you already had it, you could tell by the way he looked at you and the way he addressed you. Because it was enough to be clear that he had never been this way with anyone before, he had never spoken to anyone like this and he had never been so pleased to be in someone's company, basically in his entire life.

“The only people I've ever had this close to me are my family or my enemies, neither of whom I think entertain my presence very much.” Was his reply, honest and respectful. His husky voice, in contrast to the graceful sea breeze was a pleasant and comforting noise to you.

His words were masked with a touch of amusement, as he used to do in the last days when he spoke to you, it seemed as if you brought back that inner child he had, a stranger who felt increasingly closer.

But even using that tone, his eyes told you that he was not lying, that he was giving you the pure truth.

Yet, somehow you were not satisfied with his response. And he knew it.

“Have you been with other women?”

Feyd drew in a breath, half-opening his lips, air hissing between his teeth.

“So I'm assuming you've heard about the rumors about me?”

And there he was, answering you with another question to challenge you back, to play with your head as he had grown to love to do during the short time you had been in each other's company. Your conversations always ended up being a game of back and forth, a game of a tension that would be cut with the least sharp blade.

“My future wife likes to guide what she believes by mere rumors?” He pressed further.

And as always, you exhaled the air held inside you, twisting your head slightly, looking at him with incredulous eyes. “These are not rumors, Feyd —I've seen it.”

His blue eyes narrowed as he walked closer to you, expression both intrigued and yet defiant. “What do you mean you've seen it? Don't play games with me now, woman.”

“Don't threaten me, man,” You squinted your eyes as you pronounced the word like poison, almost coming out like an insult. “I'm not afraid of you.” With your own response to his defiance, this immediately silenced him, stopping him in his tracks right in front of you, as you stepped closer to him, your presence growing menacing now. You were really upset. “Do you think that when I marry you I will allow you to go on screwing around with them?”

“You met them and they threatened you?” Feyd asked in a low tone, maintaining a calm demeanor, though he wanted to know if any of his concubines had dared to even glance at you during your stay at Giedi Prime. His orbs reflected a sensation that ranged to a murderous, bloodthirsty urge, not at you, but at anyone who was stupid enough to threaten you. “Tell me, did they say anything to you?”

You crooked your head very slightly, looking genuinely offended by his questioning.

“Do you think I would allow any of your concubines —anyone at all— to threaten me and go on with their lives?” You replied instantly, looking him up and holding his gaze, as brave as ever. You seemed to be the only one in the whole universe who dared to answer him and put him in his place. And he was loving it, he felt the desire to be broken by you, to let you destroy all his walls and reach his soul. “They'd already be dead if they did.”

An amused grimace twisted his lips, gaze darkening with pride, desire even, approving of your words, feeling suddenly small under the vastness of your aura, dark and menacing now.

“Don't worry about them.” His words sounded humorous this time, just as his fingers laced between yours, he gave your hand a gentle squeeze, an attempt to reassure you. “Soon I'll be all yours, sweet girl.”

You frowned your brow slightly, as did your lips, still looking offended. He squinted his eyes, hissing as he realized he had said the wrong thing, yet again.

“I'm not sweet.” Your hand released his, your annoyance rising with the seconds. “I'm not one of your pets you can treat as sweet, Feyd-Rautha.”

He raised his brow, following you with his gaze, puzzled, as you turned around and began to walk back to the palace, turning your back on him and leaving him to talk alone.

“One of my pets?” He questioned, with that amused grimace plastered on his mouth again, as he began to follow your hurried footsteps, his pale face reflected a blend of frustration and irritation. “Do you think I would treat you like one of my pets?”

His voice sounded so husky and frustrated and delicious that you felt like just stopping and jumping on him right there. But your own self-respect and pride were more important, you wanted to believe.

Seeing that you weren't planning to stop, Feyd tried to stop you by grabbing your arm, but his hand remained over your smooth skin, with no major result in trying to calm you down, so he cleared his voice, making the attempt to be as cautious and reassuring with his words.

“I think you must understand that desire and lust is something we all possess, my lady, not just men.”

He was physically relieved when you stopped to be able to look at him, with his hand lingering on your forearm.

But your eyes were still dark with discomfort when they met his once again. “I won't be one of your girls, Feyd-Rautha.”

His lips parted, brow furrowing slightly, his voice kept low. “(Y/N)—”

He stood right there, utterly speechless, with his voice caught in his throat, watching you walk away from him, striding with steps that exuded pure anger up to your rocky palace. His hand dropped from your arm and returned to his side, now far from your warmth and heartbeat.

It took Feyd-Rautha a couple of minutes to pull himself together, sighing heavily, a small smirk curving his lips as he began to walk the path back to the Atreides' palace.

He was absolutely thrilled to discover this side of you that he hadn't previously seen. You were truly frightening and he was loving it.

By the time the moon was bright in the center of the dark sky, shining through the thickness of black, a pair of soft knocks sounded against your chamber door and you didn't have to use any hint of your skills to know who it was.

He looked at you with those now dark blue eyes from across the threshold, arm resting lightly against the grayish stone. He looked strangely troubled, look shadowed.

“Have you always been such a perfect seductress?”Feyd asked you just as you made a questioning gesture with your head. “How many men have you seduced like this?”

You looked him up with doubting eyes, frown slightly furrowed. “What are you talking about—”

He interrupted you in a scratchy voice, fearing somehow, that someone else might hear him, that someone else might witness how desperately vulnerable he was being, for you.

“You've broken me. All I can think about is you.”

Feyd took one step forward and you one step back, so you two moved as if you were in a kind of dance until he eventually entered your chambers, pulling the door shut behind him.

“I can't handle not touching you. It's a rule I'm on the brink of breaking for you.” He whispered and your breath caught in your throat, exhaling air in a stuttering gasp. “And I should— I'm expected to be a gentleman. I'm supposed to behave myself, keep my composure. But you… you are driving me crazy, woman, you play with my head, you've bewitched me.”

You could really see that he was trying to explain himself for you, attempting to articulate everything that was going through his head and you knew that it was very unusual for him to speak out loud about his feelings. And now, you were the one who couldn't say anything at all.

It was true, the most important rule your mother had emphasized to you was that you were not to get involved sexually, or in any way with your betrothed, until the very day of the actual wedding, as that particular night was meant to be consumed.

“Y—you shouldn't be here, my lord.” You managed to utter out after a few hesitant stutters, feeling your back brush against the wall and having him in front of you, trapping you against his body. He seemed to be struggling against his body, against his desire and instinct, hesitant hands twitching at his sides, nearly reaching out instinctively for your body.

“You were so bold back there talking back to me, what happened now? Aw, what happened, pretty?” He asked in a more teasing tone of voice, holding your gaze. “We could put that mouth of yours to good use then, hm?”

“My lord—”

“Call me by name.” He demanded, he begged you, whispering.

“Feyd...” You named him so obediently that it made him smile darkly to himself. “Someone might listen.”

“Are you afraid that someone will find out that two people who are getting married desired each other?” Feyd asked, half-closing his eyes and breathing out through his nose, as if trying to compose himself, trying to convince himself more than you. “There is nothing wrong for a husband to crave for his wife, right?”

You gulped, and his eyes instantly landed on your throat, watching as bone and muscle moved beneath the flesh, his tongue twitched, aching with all his will to be able to just lick the skin of your neck.

“I guess not.” Your voice trembled even when you were trying extra hard to sound confident and certain. “But we are not yet husband and wife.”

“Soon...” Feyd muttered, almost as if he was making a promise, uttering a vow.

His eyes closed as he finally rested his forehead against yours and suddenly, you were breathing from the same air. His trembling breath was warm against your lips and his scent was everything you could have ever craved... and it felt so familiar that your soul seemed to shudder, like something you had smelled all your life, something that had haunted you even in dreams, forever present but yet always so far distant.

“Can I touch you?” Feyd breathed out against your mouth after a few moments.

You didn't answer him verbally, instead you slowly took his hands between yours, fingers placing them in parallel against his, allowing you to feel every inch of the imprint drawn on his fingertips as you dragged yours across his palm, both feeling the size difference.

Then, you rested his big, calloused hands on your waist, allowing him to touch and hold you as much as he wanted and to permit him to do so, a single sight on your eyes was all it took.

He hissed as his hands molded the curve of your waist and instantly afterward drew you into his body, pulling you fully against the wall behind you. Your back arched instinctively and you gasped too, so softly, your chest pressed against his with the motion.

“Touch me.” Feyd-Rautha pleaded, he had never pleaded so... desperately for anything ever in his life.

That was your allowance for your hands reaching for his body, out of control, one making a slow path up through his strong arms while the other rested against his chest, feeling the beat of his heart under your palm, beating echoing your own. Your fingertips gently patted his muscles, recognizing his skin and his body. You got the abrupt urge to claim it as yours. To claim him.

You felt yourself blushing at all the overly imaginative and lustful images of him invading your head.

His nose brushed against yours, nuzzling it affectionately, still without opening his eyes, as if he were in some kind of dream from which he didn't want to wake up. His fingers caressed your belly, tracing a slow caress across your entire abdomen upward, while his other hand gripped your waist, holding you against him.

His touch triggered an immediate reaction across your flesh, skin shivering under his fingers.

Feyd whispered your name like a prayer, like a thirsty man, crawling and screaming for water.

“I'm trying to be good...”

“Don't be.” You whispered back, almost begging, looking up at him, gaze meeting his once he opened his eyes. “Please, Feyd—”

Then finally his lips landed on yours, initiating a kiss that you both craved so much, maybe he more than you for the way he brought you close to him, almost possessively, like a mad man, almost as if he was imprinting his mark on you, marking you for whoever had the courage to look at you.

He let himself sink in the way your lips fit against yours, in the warmth your body offered him, in the all too familiar sensation he could sense in every single fiber of his core from the kiss, your kiss.

Feyd-Rautha felt like a roaring beast just unleashed, ruthless and insatiable, just like when he walked into the arena, eager to kill, rooting against his opponents —and now he was rooting for you, to be near you, to intertwine his soul with yours, to claim you as his own.

And claiming you he was, his scent covered you all over now, making you feel a burning sensation in the pit of your stomach, throbbing crotch, blood seething like an infernal flare. Anyone who came near you would not only smell you, but him too, on every inch of your body. His hands roamed just under your breasts, rubbing across your ribcage and sliding down your back, fingers just barely grazing your ass, pressing you tightly against him in desperation, grasping and squeezing as much of your tender flesh as they could.

Your own palms roamed up his chest, caressing his broad shoulders, all the way up to his neck, tugging him closer to you in desperate motions, impossibly close.

When your bodies begged for oxygen, you broke the passionate kiss, leaving you both breathless. He kissed you once more, allowing you to breathe just for a few seconds before all you breathed was him. He wanted to become your oxygen, something indispensable to you, something you needed to live with, a necessity.

“You're the only one.” Feyd-Rautha mumbled out as his hot and soft lips trailed down a wet path all the way to your neck, tracing the line of your jaw with sloppy kisses, each time his lips pulled back from your skin a wet noise echoed and filled the room, making you gasp.

You could feel the way his lips were modulating each word against your skin, as if using a language so intimate and so tight that it took your breath away. A language known and used just between the two of you.

With desirous eyes he looked at the dark crimson mark he'd left on your throat before raising them across your flushed face, his hands cradling your jaw, thumbs caressing your skin tenderly.

“When my uncle gave me the announcement that I was to marry you, I kicked them all out.” He continued to explain, pecking your lips a couple of times before kissing each cheek, your forehead, your eyelids, your nose, every single feature of your entire face, with the utmost care and adoration.

No one had ever looked at you the way he was looking at you right now.

Feyd rasped out a small chuckle, breath warm tickling against your nose. “And by kicking them out I mean I killed them.”

His comment didn't surprise you at all, in fact, it didn't even provoke a reaction in you. During the week you had been in his company, you had already gotten used to Feyd-Rautha's -almost cruel- honesty and sassy remarks, you were just starting to get used to his very eccentric and unique attitude. Because the na-Baron's personality was something that was most captivating to you, he was so different yet so similar to you.

“Of course.” You replied, trying to hold back that dark grin on your lips, an action that caused him to kiss you once more, his attention was on your mouth the whole time as you spoke to him in that tone of voice. “I would expect nothing less from the Feyd-Rautha and for my future husband.”

Again he rested his forehead against yours and you were the one who kissed his lips this time. It had become a reassuring habit in a span of less than five minutes for both of you.

“I can't do anything to you until we get married, my uncle would find out otherwise. I have —we have— to behave, my love.”

He seemed to read your mind this time, or maybe it was the way you were looking at him, biting your lower lip gently, eyes darkened with desire, silently begging him to just take you right there against the wall when he called like that.

Perhaps Feyd-Rautha was a hopeless romantic just like you or he simply desired you in ways that went beyond mere sex or plain lust.

“Are you afraid of him?” You softly asked him, your fingers stroking the back of his neck, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Your fingertips followed the trail of one of his veins marked on his neck, making him gasp lightly.

“Have you seen him?” Feyd responded with another question, a curved little smile on his lips, his tone of voice directed pure sarcasm. “I don't think I'm in such a position as to challenge the Baron.”

You nodded your head, fingers stroking his cheekbones now, tapping the moles that spread across his face affectionately. “He's terrifying.”

Your heart seemed to melt as you watched him close his eyes and lean against your hand, kissing the palm in action.

“Mhm...” Feyd hummed, watching you attentively, as if he was memorizing every inch of your face. Suddenly, his expression changed to one of amusement.

“Were you seriously jealous of my darlings?”

Your heart seemed to drop to your stomach and burn with your guts as you heard the nickname fall from his mouth.

“Call them that again and I'll cut your throat.” You murmured against his lips, kissing them slowly before pulling away from his body, looking up at him with dark, yet playful eyes, your hand roaming across his chest until it fell to your side as you stepped away. Then you made your way towards your bed with a very slow pace, under the attentive gaze of his azure eyes following every movement of your hips.

His heart —apparently non-existent until then— was pounding like crazy inside his chest as his lips parted, for once again you had left him speechless.

That was living proof that you were simply made for him. And he for you.

And maybe that just meant you were each other's weakness, people would say so.

But he felt just invincible in your presence, as if your company made him behold the whole universe, gave him the power of the all galaxy at hand, making him feel like the only man in existence. Your man.

Feyd-Rautha had never felt so desperate to make you his wife and finally call you his.

[oddinary4bts]

To Give a Helping Hand | ch 3 (jjk)

☆summary: when you finally come over to his place, Jungkook realizes he'll need more of you.

☆pairing: idol!Jungkook x female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI)

☆genre: smut, idol!au

☆warnings: unedited, curses, alcohol, an NDA (brief mention), explicit content: grinding, fingering, oral sex (female receiving), edging, begging/praise kink, spitting, jerking off, unprotected sex (don't be stupid), creampie

☆word count: 3.7k

☆a/n: i was horny i guess lmao hope you enjoy! this is unedited so beware for typos and stuff that doesn't make sense haha love y'all <3

☆☆☆☆☆

There’s something about you that Jungkook can’t quite figure out.

Maybe it’s the way you signed the NDA when you got to his place, cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with playfulness. Maybe it’s the way you teased him, threatening to spill his secrets with a wink that went straight to his dick. Or maybe it’s the way you told him he can’t tell anyone about you either.

It can be our secret, mmh?

Your words have been resonating through him since he made you dinner And he only did so because he wants to spend some time with you, to get to know a little before he actually fucks you, and all that shit. He’s just trying to be decent. But ever since you walked into his apartment with that skirt of yours - showing your indecent, strong legs, and thighs he wants to be crushed by - Jungkook has known he’ll get his dick wet tonight.

Hell, he knew it even before that, but the sight of you has been making him feel feral. It’s nothing new - he’s been feral for you ever since the first time he saw you at the gym, with that stupid Cooky keychain he hated then.

He doesn’t hate it anymore. In truth, he doesn’t even give a shit anymore. Maybe it’s because you have him wrapped around a finger, and he’s ready to make you see stars.

“Thank you for the food,” you say as you sit back in your chair, toying with the glass of the wine you brought. 

He tilts his head to the side, offers a small smirk and says, “Anytime.”

Your eyes glint. They glint like jewels in the sun, and it strikes him deep. “Does that mean it’s time for me to repay you?”

Fuck. His blood shoots down to his dick, and Jungkook stirs in his chair.

“I think we’re on uneven grounds, mmh?” he lets out.

You cock an eyebrow. “How so?”

“I haven’t seen you come yet.”

You smile a small, secretive smile, looking at your wine. “Does that bother you?”

“It does.” He shifts in his chair, leaning closer to you. He suddenly hates that you’re sitting on the other side of the table, but he’ll be patient tonight.

He wants to savour you until the sun comes up.

“So tonight is all about me?” you tease.

He can’t help the small laugh he lets out. “Oh, I think we’ll both find our pleasure.”

It doesn’t take you long after that to get up, walking around the table. Jungkook pushes his chair away from the table, and you straddle his lap with the quiet confidence he likes about you, lowering yourself on him until he’s sure you can feel his dick on you.

And he feels you, feels the warmth radiating off of you, and he already knows his climax will hit harder than it ever has.

“So,” you purr, circling your hips. “What do you want to start with?”

His hands find your waist, and he gently rubs you with his thumbs. “Why don’t you take your shirt off?”

You’re a brat. You’re a fucking brat, because you pout, saying, “Can’t do it for me?”

He’ll go insane tonight. Thoroughly, completely insane.

What will be left of him in the morning?

“You want to play this game?” he says, voice low.

You blink innocently. “What game?”

Jungkook gets up, carrying you with him. Your eyes widen in surprise, but you recover quickly, wrapping your legs around him. And he meant to carry you to his room, but your lips find the side of his neck, and you suck hard.

“Fuck,” he hisses, and he immediately directs himself towards the wall, pinning you against it. “You’re impatient.”

You lean your head back against the wall, looking at him through your lashes. “Maybe a little.”

It spurs him into action - Jungkook captures your mouth in a languid kiss, parting your lips with his tongue to taste you. He can taste the food and the wine on you, but also a taste that is so distinctly you that he sighs in relief.

He’s a man starved when it comes to you, and he doesn’t know what to make of it.

Jungkook grinds his hips, rubbing his length on you. You whimper in his mouth, your hands pulling on handfuls of his hair, and he hisses in pain, though it only turns him on more. Still, he kisses you, sucking on your lower lip and teasing it with his teeth. He doesn’t bite down too hard, doesn’t want to hurt you, but when your tongue toys with his piercings, he knows he needs to have you now. So he makes sure he’s holding you up with one hand, and then slides the other one between your bodies. 

He makes quick work of pulling your skirt up, and then his fingers deftly push your underwear aside. One digit parts your folds, tests your wetness, and his dick twitches in his pants at just how slick you already are.

“Who’s impatient now?” you purr.

He feels an inherent need to shut you up, and so he dips his finger inside of you up to the first knuckle, swallowing the needy moan you let out. And then he’s pulling his hand away, bringing it up to your face, and he pulls away from the kiss to push his finger in your mouth.

Your lips wrap around the digit, your eyes blazing bright, and you suck on it, your tongue teasing the pad. It reminds him of how your mouth felt on his dick the last time he saw you, and he grinds into you again, loving the way your eyebrows bunch together with pleasure.

He can’t wait to hear you moan his name. That, more than anything, pushes him to pull his finger out of your mouth, and to then carry you to his room. You busy yourself on the skin of his neck as he does so, and he grunts when your tongue teases the earring he’s wearing.

“No hickey,” he reminds you when you go back to sucking on his neck.

You stop, pulling away just enough to meet his gaze. “Don’t worry, I’ll be nice.”

He’s reached the bedroom by then, and Jungkook puts you down on his bed. He takes his shirt off while you make yourself comfortable on the bed, and he throws the piece of clothing on the floor before climbing on the mattress. You immediately spread your legs for him, and he pushes your skirt up to reveal the black lacy thong you’re wearing.

It barely even hides anything, and he can already tell that you’re slowly soaking the fabric.

Jungkook doesn’t miss the way you’re eyeing his chest, lust and desire swirling in the depths of your gaze. Your eyes, glistening earlier, have turned darker, and he can’t help but admire you for it.

You’re beautiful. Beautiful in a savage, strong way that he can’t even describe. Maybe it’s your muscles, or that quiet confidence you carry yourself around with. Or maybe it’s just the way his body reacts to you - his lust for you is wild, feral, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Jungkook bends down to kiss you, hand sliding to your wrist when you run your hand through his hair. He pulls your hand over your head, pressing it into the mattress right as you wrap your legs around his waist again. 

“Be nice and don’t touch me, mmh?” he tells you.

He doesn’t wait for your answer. He’s already sliding down between your legs, readying himself to finally get the taste of you that he’s been craving. And there’s something sinful about your skirt, about your black lacy thong, so he decides to keep your clothes on, hooking one finger in your thong to pull it aside.

You’re gleaming with your slick juices, your pussy flushed red with arousal. Jungkook just knows you’ll feel divine on his dick, but first he wants to lap you up.

And so he does, leaning forward to push his tongue between your folds. Your taste is heady, inebriating, and he grunts as one of your hands shoots to his head as if you’re trying to push him closer.

“Nu-uh,” he tuts, kneeling between your legs. He grabs your hands, puts them over your head, and then says, “Don’t move.”

He doesn’t break eye contact as he slowly unbuckles his belt, and then takes it off. Doesn’t break eye contact as he ties you up with it, making sure to not make it tight enough to hurt, but still tight enough to restrain your motions. 

Your breath is ragged when he sits back on his heels, tilting his head to the side as he smirks. “Now, if you move again, I’ll tie you up to the bed too, m’kay?”

You flash a lustful smile. “Maybe I’d like that.”

It turns him on far too much, his dick rock hard in his pants. He rubs himself, watches with manly contentment as you look down at him and bite at your bottom lip.

“Careful, baby,” he says. “If you’re too much of a brat, you’re not getting anything tonight.”

“As if you can resist me.”

He can’t. He knows he can’t, so he abstains from replying, instead choosing to make you regret your words. Indeed, he goes back to your pussy, pushing your underwear aside once more to blow a breath on your clit that makes you squirm slightly. He loves it, loves everything about how your body responds to his. Even more so as he dives in, circling your clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking on it lightly. You moan, somehow shy, and he looks up at you to see your jaw as your head is thrown back.

But you’re obeying, hands gripping at the pillow over your head, and Jungkook knows he’s got you right where he wants you to be. So he unleashes himself, feasts on you until your moans grow louder, his name intertwined with your pleasure. His dick hurts in his pants from lack of stimulation, and he starts palming himself as he eats you out, as your juices cover his chin.

Circles after circles around your clit lead to it growing sensitive, flushed with so much arousal he knows you’re teetering close to your orgasm. But he won’t give in yet, won’t let you come even though he thinks the sight will entrance him, will make him worship you like a goddess.

So instead, Jungkook pulls away, blowing another breath on your clit as you whine.

“Fuck, why’d you stop?” you complain.

He smirks, waiting for you to look down at him. 

“You think I’m just going to let you come like this?”

You clench your jaw, chest going up and down rapidly as if you’ve just sprinted down the street. “You’re a little shit, aren’t you?”

He bends down, bites at your clit lightly yet it makes you cry out in pleasure, and your hands shoot to his head. 

“What did I say about touching me?” he warns.

“Jungkook…”

“Hands up, baby,” he tells you, kneeling between your legs. “I think we have to tie you to the bed.”

You obey, yet Jungkook resists from restraining your movements further. Hell, he might want to edge you, but he also wants you to be a brat, to tell him how much you want it.

So he kisses you wild instead, lets you taste yourself on his lips as his hand lets go of your wrists where he’s pinned them over your head again. He trails his way down your side, lifting your shirt so that he can graze the skin of your stomach lightly, and you let out a breathy sound that he thinks might have been his name.

“What?” he asks.

“Touch me,” you say, eyes fluttering open to meet his. 

Your gaze is sex-crazed, a clear indication that he indeed denied you an orgasm, and Jungkook sits back on his heels. 

“Where?”

“Are you always like this?” you ask.

He nods. “Only with pretty girls like you.”

He doesn’t think you like the mention of other girls - he’s been with plenty of them, but evidently that’s not something you’d want to hear. So he decides to stop teasing, to finally let you ride the wave of your climax.

If only so that you stop looking disappointed. And so Jungkook brings his hand between your thighs, collecting your juices on two fingers before slipping them inside of you. 

You’re tight. Or maybe your walls just fight against him for a moment, relaxing the second he starts rubbing on your velvety spot. Your hips raise from the bed, your back arching as you moan loudly.

“Fuck, Jungkook,” you cry out.

“Feels good?”

“Yes.” You wet your lips, gaze meeting his. “Eat me out at the same time?”

He tilts his head to the side, the predator and you its prey. “Why should I?”

“I’ll suck your dick after.”

His dick twitches in his pants at your crude words, but Jungkook ignores it. “What makes you think I want that?”

“The fact that -” Your words are interrupted by a loud moan, your walls momentarily clenching around his fingers as he pushes them in and out of you quickly, his thumb rubbing on your clit. “That you came down my throat last time.”

He bends down to whisper against your lips. “Open your mouth, baby.”

You look like you want to fight him, but he knows you’re nearing your high. Indeed, your gaze has lost its focus, your cheeks are flushed red, and your breathing is ragged, so much so that he wonders if he should give you a break before fucking you.

When your lips part, Jungkook doesn’t hesitate before he spits in your mouth. You moan in answer, your walls fluttering on his digits.

“Fuck,” you curse. “I’m so close.”

He knows it. He knows it, because you’re growing impossibly tighter, and your eyes are screwed shut now, your eyebrows almost touching. So he gives in to your earlier desire, going back between your legs to wrap his lips around your clit.

He only has to suck on it once, teasing it with his tongue, for you to crash into your high, and you moan as you come, your walls pulsing on his fingers. You taste divine, like the ambrosia of the gods, and Jungkook laps you up, guides you through your orgasm. And it lasts a while, wave after wave after wave crashing into you until your thighs are shaking, instinctively closing around his head.

Only then does Jungkook pull away, looking down at your ruined panties as he slips his fingers out of you.

“Holy shit,” you let out, and the breathy laugh that follows makes Jungkook pause, eyes widening as he looks at you.

“Yeah?”

You nod. “Fuck. Yeah. That was…”

He toys on his piercing, everything in him waiting for the praise. But it doesn’t come, and his dick hurts in his pants, and all he wants is to bury himself deep in your hot wetness. So he moves away enough to remove his pants, and then he fists his cock, stroking himself as he waits for you to look at him. When you do so, he slowly takes off your underwear, never breaking eye contact, before kneeling between your legs again. 

“You think you can take me now?” he asks.

You look down at him, and your hands reach for him. As much as he wants you to touch him, he thinks he’s already close - if you were to suck him or jerk him off right now, he reckons he might come on the spot. So, once again, Jungkook pushes your hands over your head, but this time, he holds them in place before gently nudging your clit with the tip of his cock.

“Can you?” he asks.

“Can I?”

You sound confused, which he assumes might be because you’re fucked out from coming hard. So he kisses you once, pushing his tongue in your mouth lightly before he pulls away.

“Can I fuck you?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” you purr, and he loves that the brat is back.

Even more so as he rubs his dick between your folds, collecting your juices.

“You’re dripping wet, baby,” he says. “You always get this wet?”

You meet his gaze, biting at your lower lip. “What if I do?”

He starts pushing in, and you surprisingly hold onto the defiance, your smirk never fading. His, on the other hand, melts as he feels you for the first time, and you’re even better than anything he could have imagined.

“Then,” he lets out, pushing in inch by inch. He pulls back out for a second, and then pushes in again. “I better fuck you good until all you want is my dick, mmh?”

“Please.”

It’s the begging. It unravels the last of his restraint, and Jungkook pushes all the way in, grunting as he hits your cervix. He pulls out slightly as he surveys your features, aware that he might have hurt you, but you don’t look like you care.

No, your hips lift from the bed, trying to meet his, and so he starts pushing in and out, slowly at first if only to make sure you’re adjusted to his size. And when you moan his name for what might be the hundredth time but feels like the first, Jungkook increases his pace, increases the strength of his thrust until his headboard is banging into the wall.

He takes you in, takes the sight of you as you mewl from your pleasure, your walls sucking him in so good he thinks he sees stars. You’re heaven personified, his own nirvana, at least for the time that he’s fucking you.

Everything else fades away - his life, his fame, the NDA you signed that’s still on the counter. All there is is you and him, and the way that your bodies move like one. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way while having sex. Hell, he reckons twenty years from now, he’ll still be thinking about this moment while he’s fisting his cock.

But for now, Jungkook tries to focus on the present. Tries to focus on the way you respond to his every motion, your walls clenching around him. His balls grow tight, a knot forming in his lower back as he tries not to come. It’s hard, but he manages to refrain from coming by slowing down, establishing a deeper rhythm that makes your eyes flutter open.

“I really want to touch you a bit,” you whisper.

It’s not said out of lust. There’s something else in your eyes, and Jungkook wonders if you feel like he does.

If you, too, will be thinking back on this moment twenty years down the line.

“Let me…” he trails off as he stops moving, and then he unties your wrists. 

Your arms immediately wrap around him, holding him close, and Jungkook likes it. Likes the way you lightly trace his back with your nails, and he winces as you slightly dig into his shoulders as he starts fucking you again.

“No marks,” he reminds you.

You whine, yet it morphs into a moan as he starts pounding into you again. His balls are tight, heavy, and he knows he’ll have to let himself go soon, yet he wants the moment to last just a little longer. Maybe that’s why he pulls out, flipping you on your belly. Why he takes a moment to massage your ass cheeks as you glance at him over your shoulder. Your hair is a mess, but it’s beautiful, in such a simple, feminine way that it stabs Jungkook in the chest.

Or that might be the way you’re looking at him - it’s hard to tell, and Jungkook decides to chase the vulnerability away by pushing inside of you, up until he feels your ass against him. And then he’s fucking you again, relentlessly, sweat dripping from his forehead. It falls on you, but you don’t look like you mind, and though it’s burning his eyes, he doesn’t care either.

All he cares about is the way is dick grows infinitely hard, and soon his motions grow sloppy. He focuses for a time, tries to hold it in, but then you say, “You’re so good, Jungkook”, and the praise sends him over the edge.

Jungkook slams all the way in, holding your waist tightly, and he comes deep inside of you, painting your insides white as your pussy clenches around him. He sees stars - galaxies and nebulas - and his body folds on itself until he’s got his forehead pressed to the side of your face. He thinks he might have moaned your name, moaned a silent prayer to your beauty, and the orgasm washes through him, erasing everything until he’s just a blank canvas.

It takes a long time for him to come down from his high. For his breathing to return to normal, for his blood to stop singing the song of you. Meanwhile, you’re just breathing in sync with him, your hand on his cheek - when did it get there? - as your thumb strokes idle lines on the side of his face. It’s intimate, and oh too vulnerable considering that you’re a fan, so Jungkook straightens, finally pulling out.

He watches his cum dripping out of you, the sight nearly enough to make him go feral again, but he takes a deep breath, reminding himself that, as much as he wants you, you’re still just a fan.

He’s never going to date you, is he?

But he can’t deny the attraction, or the way your body answers to his perfectly. So when you get ready to leave, later, Jungkook pulls you into a short embrace, kissing you slow as your hands rest flat on his chest. And then he pulls away so that he can meet your gaze as you look up at him.

His heart feels warm - he thinks his whole chest might slowly be catching fire. So, even though you’re just a fan, even though you probably shouldn’t, he whispers, “Can I see you again next week?”

Prev

☆☆☆☆☆

hope you guys enjoyed this... horny chapter haha jungkook finally got what he wanted with her... but he already wants more hehe let me know what you think of this chapter!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

Taglist:

@pamzn | @chimchimmarie | @llallaaa | @backseatana | @xmspurple7x

@jadestonedaeho7

[mygnolia]

MYGNOLIA'S 2024 “FIC OR TREAT!”

୨୧ -› as the new girl in a small town, you don't settle in the same way everyone else does. a group of boys with a bit more than what meets the eye is ecstatic to make you feel just at home, all on the night of the biggest party of the year; halloween.

CONTAINS: HORROR, MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH, FRENZY, MANIPULATION, VIOLENCE, SUPERNATURAL ELEMENTS .

walk through the woods with caution. all works are fiction.

if you read more than one installment, read jungwon's last.

THE TALE GOES...heeseung is invisible to everyone, robbed of recognition as people pass through and never acknowledge him. to live as a shadow who observes is hard—heeseung sinks into corners and simply wishes for a chance to be a part of something. but when you finally come to the biggest halloween party of the year and see him, he can’t help but be attached. 

lee heeseung wants you to know, he’s really sorry for what he did. 

THE TALE GOES...park jongseong sees himself as monster crafted from mistake all days of the year except for one. and when you’ve come to like him with and without his disguise, he puts a little too much trust into your newfound friendship. only problem is, jay has plans to stay in this town—even if he’s not human. even if it means removing you from it. 

park jongseong wants you to know, you need to keep quiet next time. 

THE TALE GOES...jake lives for the chase, and when there’s no one around in the quiet of your town, he roams free. the unfortunate problem is, you start rumors of horrible accusations towards him and his kind, and he’s bothered beyond belief. and what happens when you dress up as red riding hood, boasting about how you won’t get eaten on halloween night? 

sim jaeyun wants you to know, you should’ve kept your mouth shut. 

THE TALE GOES...sunghoon’s gone years without a drop of blood on his tongue, and even the last time was an accident—he swears. when he meets you at the one and only party on halloween night, there’s something about your attempt to run away that makes him snap, wanting to try everything from a pierce in your jugular.

park sunghoon wants you to know, at least one of you went home smiling that night. 

THE TALE GOES...sunoo can’t stay away from the pier, and apparently, neither can you. while you’ve always been drawn to the water, sunoo’s reliant on it, observing from afar and striking when the urge resonates within his vocal chords. he just couldn’t help himself—after all, you told him you wanted to take a dive that halloween night.

kim sunoo wants you to know, he only did what you asked him to.

THE TALE GOES...riki claws through the inevitable for the search of vigor that's spurred him. something about him sets you off, and although you both know you're planning for escape through the trees, for someone so...undead, riki's not as brainless as you think.

nishimura riki wants you to know, he came back because you were worth it.

THE TALE GOES...jungwon’s clever, but there’s someone who uncovers his tracks one at a time. you’re a newcomer at his party, and he always notices when someone digs a little too closely into his life. as both a blessing and a curse, your presence around his house leaves him with no choice but to take what’s precious to you.

yang jungwon wants you to know, don't stick your nose where it doesn't belong.

REN SPOOKS...WE'RE SO BACK WITH A HORROR HALLOWEEN EVENT????? also!! debating on not telling you what the supernatural figure each member is to see if you can guess, obviously some more easy than others, but i hope this is fun!!!

FIC OR TREAT TAGLIST -› OPEN. IF YOU ARE TAGGED IN THIS MASTERLIST, YOU WILL BE TAGGED IN ALL INSTALLMENTS.

[nanaloveswo-men]

pairing: nanami x reader (sfw) summary: you and nanami take a few days off work. oh! yuuji is there too! wc: 2.3k

the wind hitting your face was great, even though your hair was getting a little messy. the music playing on the radio was slightly different from what you used to listen, but it was also good. somehow, you even caught yourself humming along the music.

you looked at kento, his usually tense shoulders, now a bit more relaxed. some strands of his blond hair rocking according to the breeze. his dark sunglasses falling a bit on the bridge of his pretty nose. he looked really good while driving.

you almost forgot where you were.

"can we make a quick stop, please? i need to go to the bathroom" itadori shyly asked, raising his hand like he always did in classroom.

kento sighed, looking at the boy through the car mirror "didn't i told you to go back there at the jujutsu school?"

just two hours had passed since you three had left the jujutsu grounds, nanami didn't plan to make any stop at all. he was aching to get to your destination.

"yeah, but i didn't want to go back there" itadori pouted, and you giggled "i can't control" he tried to reson with your husband.

"a little stop won't hurt anyone, i guess. let's strach our legs a bit, kento" you were quick to get on yuji's side.

nanami glanced at you for a moment before changing the route.

"thanks nanamin!" itadori said happily "thank you mrs. nanami!" he quickly added.

you send him a smile before whispering a soft 'thanks' to your husband.

you weren't planning to take yuji to your little vacation, but things just happened before you could control them.

after a day full of work at the jujutsu school, you just wanted to go home back to your husband, but where you were leaving your office, you had encountered itadori quietly sitting on a banch. and you couldn't ignore the ache in your heart seeing him all alone.

against your desire to see kento, you went to know what had happened to the boy.

"hey yuji!" you greeted sitting in the space near him. just seeing someone else already made his eyes fill with happiness. "what are you doing here?" you asked smiling.

"hello mrs. nanami!" the sparkle in his eyes faded a bit thinking about your question "everyone is on mission, and i didn't want to go the dorms, so i decided to come here".

the realization made you sad. besides his friends, he had no one else to be with.

against your better judgment, you invited yuji to have dinner with you and kento. well, you were sure nanami wouldn't mind having one more person at your house. at least you expected that.

"really?" he asked surprised. "i don't want to bother" he looked down playing with the sleeve of his sweater.

your smile only got bigger "nah, don't worry, i'm sure kento will be pleased with your company" you reassured.

that night you, nanami and, yuji had a really enjoyable dinner together, the time wich was usually filled with a low talk, was actually full of laughs, itadori stories, and a grumpy kento trying to act composed in front of his student (he was still a bit mad that you didn't warn him about your guest. he could have made something nicer!).

"we can't leave him all alone, love!" you tried to reson with your husband, but he looked unreasable.

on the other night, yuji let slip from his lips that he was going to be alone the following week, because everyone had missions to go and he was the only one who couldn't go.

right on the next morning you were trying to convince kento to bring his student on your little vacation. you just couldn't bear the idea of leaving the happy yuji at that empty and sad school.

'what if someone from kyoto tries to attack him?' you were playing with all your carts, but kento wasn't having it.

"let me see if i got it, my love. you really want to bring one student from the school you teach at, to the vacation you're taking because you wanted to be away from school business?" he said trying to get you to your right nerves.

but you weren't having it either. "yes, this is what i want, please kento" you claped your hands in front of your face "he's a good boy and i know you like him too. it will be fun!"

nanami sighned. he would regret his decision. "alright, if this is what you want, love."

well, this explained your currently situation. even though kento wasn't a hundred percent sure about this, you knew that he was happy. deep down, he liked yuji just as much as you did. maybe more.

"itadori, while you go to the bathroom, we'll be at the convenience store" nanami parked the car in front of some ramdom store "do you want something from there?" he asked, but the boy was desperate to go to the bathroom, so he quickly dismissed his tutor before running out of the car.

"we better grab a snack for him" nanami agreed with you.

already at the convenience store, you were looking around searching for something yuuji would like to eat, é hile kento was grabing something for him too.

"you know that for him anything you get will be good right?" kento said behind your back, scaring you in the process.

"but i want him to eat because he likes, not because 'anything will be good' you mimicked your husband's, trying to get on his nerves.

kento sighed at your behavior, giving you a quick pinch on the tight "i don't talk like that" he defended himself.

"of course you don't, husband" you weren't paying attention to him anymore, only focusing on guessing which of the snacks yuji would like the most.

after a couple of minutes you finally picked one. or more than one, just in case. now you were judging kento's choice of snack. really, he made the same choice a lady in her 50's would make.

"i'm ready!" yuuji appeared from nowhere.

"itadori, get something for you to drink and go to the checkout" nanami said leaving you two behind, tired of your judgmental stare at his bred. couldn't a man only eat his bred in peace?

you patted yuji's shoulder before running after kento. even though he was in a grumpy mood, he slowed down so you could catch him up.

smiling at him, you said "you're such a father material" your comment made him stop, looking at you with a confused face "you act all serious and composed, but you're just a softie."

"and you are a tease material" he whispered when you got closer to the cashier.

you were happy to just admire your husband paying the things and lightly scolding itadori when he took to long to choose his drink. but you were defintly not happy to watch the cashier shamelessly flirt with your husband.

even someone like itadori had notice the cashier trying to get kento's attention. if looks could kill, the woman would be dead by now. the same way she was staring your hasband's arms and hands, you were glaring at her, but you were trying to send her an warning.

"do you want anything more, wife?" nanami asked looking directly at you, and nothing made you happier than the cashier’s reaction. 'you should close your mouth dear' you thought eyeing the woman.

"thank you husband, i'm satisfied."

after some minutes, the three of you were back to the car, finally heading to the final destination.

you stared at nanami, admiring your man.

"her hair definitely needs hydration, maybe she should get some tips from you mrs. nanami" itadori knew how to get on your best side.

"you're right yuuji" kento agreed giving you a nod.

a new music started and you immediately recognized the song playing on the radio. a band you used to love when you were younger.

"damn, yuuji, can't believe you're into music like this!" you exclaimed turning your body to face the boy. a childsh smile spreading on your face.

itadori got surprised by your sudden reaction "yeah, i've been listening for the past few weeks" you could see in his eyes that he was getting as excited as you "do you like?"

"you have no ideia!" the car now was full of your giggles "when i was your age, i was a freak for this band!" you remembered you old days as a student at the jujustsu school. "do you remember kento? you hated their music cause' it was the only thing i used to listen to."

nanami smiled. of course he remembered. he was so jeaulous of that band because they had all your attention. he never said that out loud though, he just pretended to be sick of their music.

"of course i do love. even though i don't think their songs are that great."

you and itadori frowed at your husband statement. "what do you used to listen to, nanamin?" kento went silent, but you started to laugh.

"oh, yuuji, your dear nanamin was into something different, something more emo" your laugh only got louder at itadori and kento reaction.

"what do you mean?" the boy asked curious.

"this isn't necessary love" your husband tried to restrain you. now, he was regretting all the decisions his young self had made. just like he was regretting his decision to bring itadori to your vacation. maybe he didn't change that much like he used to brag so much.

you were already picking you phone to show yuuji some photos "nah, i think it is" you pick one of your favorites. the first picture of you and kento. you both were standing awkwardly close to each other, while gojo was in the middle, putting you two in a hug.

you were kind of weird too, your hair with a weird cut, and your clothes were definitely the wrong size, but nothing was more different than nanami and his emo phase.

handing the phone for itadori, you looked to your husband, catching the red in his face that he was trying his best to hide. but you were also looking for his permission to show the photo. he concieve in a quick nod.

"this is you nanamin?" yuuji were almost screaming in pure shock "what happened to your hair?"

kento tried to explain that the haircut was trendy ten years ago, but itadori was still in denial. you got the opportunity to show more pictures of your old days.

"gojo sensei looked like a leek" in the photo, satoru was standing with his arms glued to his body, you didn't remember the context in which the photo was taken, but gojo seemed akward.

one more time your giggles filled the car "yeah, he was really skinny and tall, and his hair was like, totally spike. i'm glad that we all changed" you said glancing between nanami and yuji.

after one hour, your little group finally hit the destination. your parents' beach house. it was a small house, but it was really close to a reserved beach. everything was so comfy, ir almost brought back some childhood memories of yours. perfect destination for you and kento. and now, for itadori too.

"let's get inside" you guided the two men inside. they did all the hard work to bring your things inside and settle up.

you made a house tour for itadori, making sure he was feeling welcome. the last spot was his bedroom. your own childhood bedroom.

"make it your home, yuji" you decided to let him alone to adjust his things, also, you needed some alone time with kento "we'll call when the dinner is ready"

itadori seemed like he had something to say, but you wouldn't press him to talk.

"i'm really grateful for everything you and nanami are doing for me, i don't know how to repay you" even tough he was talking, his eyes stayed glue to his feet on the floor.

your heart warmed. "just have fun, it's enough for us" you closed the door.

approaching your husband, he was already starting dinner. you could see cutting some vegetables when you walked down the aisle.

"is everything already my love?" kento asked hearing your footsteps "we have to go to the supermarket, but tonight i'm improvising with what we packed"

you didn't answer him, happy to just hug him from behind. "thanks. for bringing yuji." you hugged him harder.

with little effort he turned to face you. one of his hands on your waist while the other was firmly on your face, keeping your eyes on him.

"i like him too. he's a good boy and deserves to be a child" he was being sincere, spilling what was inside his heart. "and i love you even more because you are so good with him. i should be the one thanking you here"

you caressed the hand on your face, tears almost spilling from your eyes "you are such a good man, kento. i'm luck for marrying you."

you were so close to him. you wanted to kiss his glossy lips.

"let's continue dinner, itadori must be hungry" nanami said pulling away from you. now, a pout in your face, and a smirk on nanami's face. that bastard, he knew what he was doing.

"you know, if i didn't know better, i would ssy that you and yuji were actually son and father" you said from you stop in the small kitchen.

"you wish we were.”

yeah, you kind of wished that.

[pinkanonwrites]

The Immensity of Vacancy

Energon Universe Jetfire/Human Reader, +1200 words

Just a little bittersweet something I wrote after the last issue of the Skybound comics came out. Jetfire my sweet, you did not deserve your fate.

ENERGON UNIVERSE COMIC SPOILERS AHEAD.

It was curious how even the most harrowing of circumstance could, with enough time and enough patience, shear down its jagged edges until it became something nearly palatable. 

Not comfortable. Primus, no, never comfortable. But palatable.

Stars no longer graced Jetfire’s curious optics, all light snuffed in favor of an inky nothingness soothed only by memory. There could be no ache of stasis lock when the freedom of movement had been ripped from his frame entirely, left to the whims of his fellow Cybertronians. The breems of silence would stretch into cycles, tuning his remaining audials ever finer upon the low thrum of Teletraan, the rattle-step of Autobots passing through corridors below. 

Perhaps that was why he could always hear you coming.

Your footsteps didn't boom or echo like those of Optimus Prime, never accompanied with the screech of tires like Arcee or Cliffjumper. Instead came the soft tink tink tink of tiny, booted feet against the resonant floor, the jangle of metallic jibbitz swinging from a clip on your belt. ‘Keys’ you had called them, though they were nothing like the data-keys or passcodes more familiar to him. ‘One for my car, one for my house, one for the back door at work.’ Primitive, but undeniably clever. 

You always paused in the doorway of the hangar when you approached, a brief instance of silence. Perhaps you were waiting for a transformation from him, a flourish of panels shifting and plates fluttering into place to reveal his root mode, his towering form compared to your own tiny one. You knew as well as he did that idea was an impossibility, but you paused nonetheless.

“Hey. Are you awake?”

Jetfire spent much time in recharge nowadays, the only respite from the insurmountable emptiness that surrounded him that remained in his control. It was another consistency from you, willing to let him rest for untold lengths of time, as if your own presence was not wildly preferred.

“Yes. For quite a while now.”

You let out a soft, sad sounding hum. “I’m sorry I couldn't get here earlier.”

“That's alright. I’m sure you have much of your own work to attend to.”

“Maybe, but it's not really anything exciting.” He could hear the shuffle and thunk of your backpack hitting the metal landing bay, the pull of the zipper. When you settled in your spot on the floor and leaned back against his landing gear, heat radiated through the space where your back pressed to his cool plating. “Work, mostly. Had a late shift last night, so I ran to the library this morning instead. The librarian actually recognized me.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No, I just didn't expect it. I never went there until recently, anyway. Guess now that I’m going in a couple days a week I’m becoming a regular. Imagine that.”

Jetfire let out a soft hum. “We’ll never be wanting for reading material then.”

You seemed to hesitate for a moment as you removed something from your bag, the flutter of paper against your fingertips tickling his audials.

“I brought a new book. ‘The War Of The Worlds’. It’s an old sci-fi classic.” You softly fanned through the pages again. “It’s about, um… It’s about aliens. That come to take over Earth. It was probably a stupid choice, we can read something different if you want.”

He could understand your hesitation. Though Jetfire had not spent long interacting with the local lifeforms of your planet, he’d heard more than enough from the other Autobots about the occurrences at the power plant; The terror, the violence. The story of a hostile occupation from beings infinitely more powerful and dangerous than the planet’s inhabitants could strike offensive if presented in the wrong way, to the wrong bot. And yet…

“I would like to hear it.”

He couldn’t help that part of himself that yearned to understand. To learn. How often would he get the chance to hear the perspective of another species, better yet from the species themselves? Considering his current state, likely never again.

“Are you sure? It doesn’t have to be this, I brought other books. To Kill A Mockingbird, Treasure Island, maybe some Shakespeare-?”

“No, I… I want to hear it. I’d like to understand.”

You hesitated further still, as if you were waiting for Jetfire to change his mind. Then you let out a small, huffy noise, like you were trying to clear your vents. Jetfire recognized the sound to be what you’d called a “sniffle”. Paper shuffled, you let out a low, steadying sigh, and began to read.

“No one would have believed in the last years of the nineteenth century that this world was being watched keenly and closely by intelligences greater than man’s and yet as mortal as his own…”

You were a delightful narrator, though you’d often brush off Jetfire’s compliments as to the former. ‘You should hear David Attenborough!’ you’d reply, though Jetfire had no idea who this apparent man was. Your cadence and accent would adjust slightly when switching characters, like you were putting on a play. The first descriptions of the alien conquerors were read with a faux suspense, as if you could scare the Cybertronian with narration alone. And yet, when you came upon the paragraph describing the first human deaths, there did your energy began to falter. You shifted against his landing gear, swallowing thickly as you described the heat ray that jumped from man to man, ‘...as if each man were suddenly and momentarily turned to fire.’ Your hesitance didn’t seem to stem from the words themselves, but the context in who you were reading them to. Did the recent Decepticon attack on the hospital strike as close to home mentally as it did physically?

You paused again at the end of the chapter. Usually here Jetfire would have rattled off the questions he’d saved while you were reading, foreign concepts and names of unknown locations and the intricacies of human interaction that he didn’t quite comprehend. But he found himself in silence here as well. Not stunned, not scared, merely… contemplative.

“Sorry. It’s not too late to read something else, you know. Treasure Island’s still on the docket.” You murmured, fingers tapping absentmindedly along the book’s spine. 

“There’s no need to apologize. Already it’s a fascinating tale.” He paused for a moment, mulling over his words. The question he was about to ask seemed painfully obvious. Yet, he couldn’t find it in himself to leave it unsaid. “Are all humans this afraid of… aliens?”

‘Will all humans be this afraid of us?’ He did not ask.

“I think…” You hummed, head thunking back against his landing gear plating. “I think that most humans are afraid of the unknown. The idea that there’s something out there we can’t understand. We don’t like being reminded that we aren’t actually in control. That at any point in time we could die.”

Jetfire thought back to Cybertron- the expeditions failed, the cities razed, the lives lost- and he understood the sentiment exactly. 

“Would it comfort you to know that the experience isn’t uniquely human?” 

You barked out a short laugh. “A little, actually.”

Jetfire had spent so much of his life in the cold. The cold of space. The cold of the ice. The cold of the silent, empty hangar. But here, in this moment, with your body pressed to his plating, your voice filling the blackness, he felt inexplicably warm. 

“I’d still like to hear more, if you would continue.”

Though Jetfire could not see your smile, it was more than enough to hear it in your voice.

“Sure thing, big guy.”

[kuamiru]

The Golden Child Part IV

SAGAU & Impostor AU where the reader is the child of the actual creator.

Warnings: Blood, crying blood, mention of abduction and terrorism.

If you haven't read part 3 yet, you can find it here.

Please understand that I won't add new people to the taglist as it has become way too large now. I'm sorry if this causes any inconvenience.

The acting Grand Sage was having a very, very busy week.

With his resignation coming soon, he wanted to finish every document that needed his immediate attention; somehow, his shift was never enough to finish everything on time.

Piles of documents that never seemed to end. Countless people needed his help that went from the most mundane things to twisted crimes that needed the immediate intervention from the Matra. In any case, once he started his working hours, there was no time to waste.

So, that was why the presence of the man in front of him managed to irk him greatly. There was enough time to be a nuisance at home, why did Kaveh feel the need to come bother him at work?

"But I'm telling you!" The blonde exclaimed. "There's definitely something weird about it!"

He sighed. "Well then, did it look like that child was being held against their will?"

"Well, no, but—"

"Then there's nothing I can do. The most I can offer is to send a Matra to investigate and/or interrogate that Lord. For all you know, they could simply be an Eremite's child."

Kaveh wanted to tell him that no, that wasn't the case, but in reality he didn't know that. There was just a feeling, a strange sensation that made him think that there must be something more about them. Kidnapped, an Eremite's child, the illegitimate Lord's child... No option sat well with him.

If Alhaitham saw that child, would he share Kaveh's thoughts?

Fuck it. If Alhaitham didn't want to help him, then he would investigate this matter himself.

Just as he was about to curse his roommate and storm away, the grand doors opened with a loud bang. Before seeing who intruded like that, they first heard the loud gasps and whispers of the scholars outside his office.

"Alhaitham!" The voice of a particular forest watcher resonated around the room. Both him and Kaveh were taken aback at the sight of the newcomers. They were bloody, beaten up, with bandages loosely covering certain areas of their bodies as if they only did it to stop the bleeding and not for properly treating the wounds. Collei was supporting both her weight and Tighnari's, as she was helping him stand and walk. "We need your help!"

The fact that Tighnari didn't refer to him as 'acting Grand Sage' denoted alarming urgency. He quickly rose from his seat and called for immediate medical help. Kaveh ran to his friend's side, gently removing him from Collei and letting him use his own body as support, earning a thankful glance from the girl. The wounds in his body started to bleed again, soaking the bandages and some of Kaveh's clothes in the process.

"What happened to you?!" The blonde asked in a panic.

Collei was still taking deep breaths, exhausted for having to carry her mentor all the way to Sumeru City. "The Ville! We were attacked!"

Alhaitham opened his eyes all the way thanks to his surprise. How come the Gandharva Ville had been attacked and he was only finding out now? By the look of the injuries, he guessed it must've happened yesterday.

"Wow, calm down! Breathe first." Kaveh said. "Explain what happened."

As the medic of the Akademiya arrived and started to treat Tighnari, Collei composed herself and started to explain everything from the beginning.

She told them about the child in the forest that was attacked by Eremites, with their family presumably dead by the Eremite's hands. How Tighnari heard them and immediately appeared to help the kid, safely escorting them to the Gandharva Ville so they could decide what to do next. She also explained how those mercenaries came back for revenge, attacking their Ville and abducting the child once every fighter was down.

Her words shocked the blonde. He looked at his roommate, half in disbelief that his own suspicions turned out to be true.

"You say they took them? Grabbed them and disappeared into the forest?"

"Yes, yes... I was knocked out and they managed to get to them...!" Collei cried. "You have to do something! Those Eremites killed their family and now have kidnapped them!"

The grand doors opened once again, and Tighnari and Kaveh both breathed a sigh of relief at the figure standing in the doorway.

The general Mahamatra had arrived.

"I heard there was a commotion here." Cyno spoke. Tighnari greeted him by saying his name, which made the newcomer turn his attention to him. When he laid his eyes upon the wounded fox hybrid and saw how beaten up he was, his blood boiled with deep rage. "What happened?"

Sensing danger from the short man, Alhaitham quickly composed himself and started to explain the situation. This didn't seem to help Cyno calm down. In fact, every word he spoke only served to fuel his anger.

"We must do something then. That child must be in danger." The general said. "We must rescue them. I'll also arrange for the other matras to track down and hunt those Eremites that raided the Ville."

Tighnari nodded. "Let's go."

"YOU won't go. The 'we' I was talking about is composed of Alhaitham, the Matra and I."

"What?!" Kaveh, Tighnari and Collei cried in unison.

"Regarding the seriousness of the situation, it's only natural that this matter is solved within members of the Matra and Akademiya." Alhaitham explained. "It could be extended to inhabitants of the Gandharva Ville, but the only thing they need now is a good doctor and a lot of rest."

"No way!" Tighnari shouted. "I have to get them back! I have to, I have to..."

His voice faded into intelligible mumbles, repeating again and again the same words. This was the first time Cyno had seen his best friend like this. What could have happened to make him act this way? Those damned Eremites... He would make sure they paid for what they've done.

Alhaitham and the grand general were quick to exit the office and start gathering people to accompany them to Alcazarzaray.

This matter had to be settled right now.

One of the people present also made his way to the exit, only that she did in the complete opposite way.

.

You were feeling very, very warm.

It was as if a giant marshmallow was enveloping you, gently offering a comfortable space to rest while you dozed off with a sense of security.

Suddenly, hand rested on your head, carefully caressing your hair in a loving manner. You opened your eyes, only to find a silhouette cradling you and watching you with hearts on their eyes.

"Keep sleeping, stardust." A soothing voice came out of their lips. "Once you wake, I won't get to hold you like this again."

The sadness in their tone made your heart ache. You gently raised your hand and rested it on their cheek, smiling when they wore a surprised expression.

"Tata..." You whispered. "Papa said they took you..."

You tried to keep smiling, you were seeing your parent again! But the thought of everything that happened only fueled the pain in your chest, making you let a sob out before starting to fully crying.

Your parent stopped the caressing to instead hug you tightly. Whispered sweet words in your ear. "You're too young for everything's that happening. How I wish I could still be hugging you in reality, and not just in this dream."

So this was a dream. Well, it didn't matter. This was the place your parent was, where you could touch them once again.

"Why did they do it...?" You could only ask between sobs.

You could hear your tata let a sigh. Both them and your father had tried to explain everything to you, at least the best they could to a little child. But maybe all you needed right now was the truth.

"I'm the one who created this world." They spoke. With a wave of their hand, something akin to stardust was born from it. It made you giggle a little. "And as such, I also wanted to live here as a mortal like everyone. Like your father, like you."

You looked into their eyes and saw all the love they had for you.

"I descended in a new body, with no powers and no memory. But the mortals and gods... Over time, they became obsessed with the idea of me. Of a being of pure love, power, and divinity. Being in a mortal body, I possessed none of that, so it was only natural that they thought I was an impostor trying to deceive them."

With each word, their tone became more and more solemn. "They... killed my body, so I now return to be a deity unapproachable by any of them. Any, except for you."

They kissed your nose gently.

"You are my child, my flesh and blood, and though I had a mortal body when you were conceived, my divinity still flows in you."

Their fingers brushed the cut in your arm, the one you got when you protected your father back in the Chasm. You averted your eyes from it. It only served to remind you what you lost that day.

"I want nothing more than destroy this world and the people in it for everything they've done to their own creator. But..."

Strangely enough, those words filled with hatred did not worry you in the slightest. Was it because it was your parent who said them? "But...?" You trailed on.

"But you and him still live here. And I do not wish for you both to feel anything remotely close to what I've experienced."

The hug enveloping you became a little tighter, as if your tata was trying to heal all their pain by embracing you.

It was a silent promise. One that said that as long as you both were alive, then the world would remain untouched.

"I miss you." You whispered, hiding your face in their chest.

"I miss you too, stardust. I hope you both live your life to the fullest before finally being reunited again. I love you."

You felt a warm and gentle kiss on your forehead and raised your head to see your parent one last time only to find a pillow resting above you, right where your tata had been. You let a sad sigh at the sight of an unknown bedroom and strange bed.

So, it really was just a dream. But it felt so real... you could still feel the tenderness of their touch and the tingle their lips left on your skin. How you missed your family...

Looking at the window in front of the bed, you noticed that the sun was already starting to set. It seemed that you fell asleep crying in your aunt's arms, how embarrassing. But to sleep all day? It really showed how your situation was exhausting your little body.

There was a small table at your right side with a plate of food on it. There was a note attached to it, with your name written on the upside. You took it and tried to read it, but the handwriting was very different from your parent's. You recognized some letters, but the words were pretty confusing.

Still, even if you couldn't read it, it left a warm feeling in your chest knowing that Dori cared enough to leave you some food and a little note for the moment you woke up.

With the piece of paper in your hand, you rushed to your backpack and took the stuffed animal from the inside, putting both items on the bed. They were your treasures now.

If only you had something from your father as well...

Opting to occupy your mind to not get sad, you tried to approach the table with the snack before a loud bang resonated around the entire palace. It seemed that someone was knocking on the front door, really hard.

As you tried to peek outside the room to see what was going on, you were surprised when Dori quickly came in and pushed you inside, closing the door behind her.

"Auntie? What's happening?" You asked with a slight tremble on your voice. Had trouble come again? Could those people from Liyue have finally found you?

"Ah, that? It's nothing. Probably the Matra trying to arrest me again for 'alleged' scams." She laugh, clearly unbothered by the whole situation. "What do you have there?"

You looked where she was pointing, right at your stuffed animal. "Oh! That's my favorite plush. Tata made it for me for my last birthday."

She smiled and picked it up in her hands. "Look at this cute thing! Handmade goods tend to sell pretty well."

Dori put the plush back where it was and turned to face you.

"Well, I see that you still haven't eaten. What do you say we have dinner together? The chef prepares the best dishes in all Teyvat!"

You giggled. "Okay!"

"Sweet! Then we—"

She stopped in the middle of the sentence as the sound of the main doors opening filled the mansion. This set her right on edge, as the butler had strict orders to not open the door to anybody, not even for the Matra or Grand Sage himself. She pressed herself to the door of the room to hear what was happening in the main hall.

"Aunt Dori?" You were confused by the sudden change of demeanor. You grabbed the stuffed animal and held it to your chest, trying to get some sense of comfort.

"Shh." She motioned for you to remain silent, so you did. Voices could be heard, and even the distressed wails of the butler resonated around the halls. Whatever was happening, it was undoubtedly bad.

Dori looked at you, which made you startle a little. "Did something happen back with the Eremites?" She asked.

"Um, well..." You trailed off, nervous. "Back in the forest, a boy from a place called Gandharva Ville found me first. He brought me back with him, and those mercenaries had to attack the city because of that misunderstanding."

She pushed her head back as the voices got louder, undoubtedly investigating the mansion in the search of something. Someone.

"Fuck, those idiots didn't even bother to tell me anything. No wonder even the Grand Sage is here." The woman mumbled under her breath. She sighed and looked back at you. "Change of plans. We have to hide, or else I'll be imprisoned for terrorism and kidnapping. Those are things I don't plan to add to my record. "

Oh no, was this your fault? Was now your aunt in trouble because you didn't go with the Eremites right away? First, the nice people in the Ville were attacked, and now Dori was going to be blamed for it.

"Quick! Let's go through the secret passage!"

She locked the door behind her and rushed to the bed, pushing it to separate the furniture from the wall. You quickly gathered the plush and the letter and put them in the backpack before helping Dori move the bed. There was a different color right where the headboard rested, and the merchant wasted no time in tearing the wallpaper to reveal a small door beneath.

The Matra was getting closer, so Dori was in a hurry to get you both out of the house. She motioned for you to go first, so you crossed the small passage while she stayed behind temporarily to move back the bed to where it was.

You found yourself back at the gardens, just at the back of the manor away from the people that were surrounding the perimeter. Nobody seemed to have spotted you yet, so you waited for Dori to crawl from the secret passage before running away.

"Stay low. These guys are the real deal here." She whispered before taking your hand in hers and guiding you through the less visible parts of the lot.

You were almost at the entrance of the forest when a member of the Matra spotted you two and quickly gave the signal to his associates.

"There! They're trying to escape using the southern exit!"

It wasn't long before the rest of the Matra started to mobilize in your direction. Dori opted to stop hiding and run as fast as you could, as a last attempt to lose the officials.

You almost managed to reach the edge of the forest when the ground rose in front of you, forming a pillar made of dirt and stones that blocked the path ahead.

"Stop! Lord Sangemah Bay, you are under arrest!"

Turning around, a member of the Matra with a Geo vision was the culprit of your dead end. He was concentrating on maintaining the pillar as the General Mahamatra made his way towards you. Dori put you behind her, which didn't really help to cover you as your heights were not so far away.

"Lord Sangemah Bay." Greeted Cyno, though his voice was filled with nothing but disdain. "I knew you were a scammer, but I'd have never thought of you a terrorist. Have anything to say about this?"

She furrowed her brows but otherwise remained silent. So, he instead looked at you.

"So this is the kid that made you even attack Gandharva Ville to capture. Who is this? Why are you keeping them?"

You wanted to answer him, but the hold Dori had on your hand suddenly felt tighter as if she was silently telling you to keep quiet. Cyno sighed, knowing that he would not get anything out of the pair.

"I see how it is. You both will have to come with the Matra then."

The breeze picked up strongly.

A powerful burst of wind almost knocked Cyno off his feet; he even had to summon his polearm and nail it to the ground to remain in his place. Dirt and leaves started floating from everywhere, and you had to cover your eyes to avoid hurting them.

Only when everything calmed down you ventured to open them once again. You were now facing the back of a small man, with black and green hair and light green tattoos in the visible skin in his arms.

You had a very, very bad feeling about this guy; for the clothing he bore told everyone present that he was foreign to their nation.

"I'm afraid I can't allow to take this child with you."

The stranged summoned his own weapon; a jade colored polearm materialized in his hand as he took a more defensive stance.

"I know you." Cyno spoke. He regained his balance and also held his spear in his hands. "Liyue seems to be pretty far away from here, don't you think?"

Liyue.

This man was here to take you back. Because you were your parent's child, wasn't it? They wanted the child born from the divinity they were obsessed with.

Oh no, no, no, no...

You took one step backward but instantly froze when the boy turned his head to look at you the moment your foot touched the ground. His golden eyes bore right into yours, as if he was nothing more than a predator waiting for the best chance to strike.

However, he promptly returned his attention to the general when he saw that you were no longer moving.

"Heed my words, for this is the only warning I'll offer, mortal. Forget everything about this child, for they are now under the eternal custody of Liyue and the Geo Archon."

Cyno frowned. He still didn't understand the situation that well, but something about you was so special that even the Rex Lapis himself was sending his own acolytes to fetch them. Now, the attack on the Ville made more sense.

He didn't know who you could possibly be, but from the looks of it, you were terrified at the sight of the adeptus. Was this another kidnapping? For a god to step so low...

If anything, he only knew that you didn't want to go with him. So, you should stay here. Right where the Matra could protect you.

He took one step in the adeptus' direction, but the same strong wind from before returned and threatened to send him flying. He could only discern a green stream quickly making his way to where you were standing before vanishing, with the wind closely behind.

When he was able to get the dirt out of his eyes, only the sight of his fellow matra remained. Xiao was gone; you were too. He didn't see the Lord either, but he stopped paying them attention early on. Maybe they took this chance to escape the Matra and avoid any questioning.

His coworkers were quick to offer a hand; two of them helped him stand while the rest immediately started a search party for both Dori and the missing child.

Liyue, huh?

He had to report this to the acting Grand Sage.

There is no justice in letting a handful of people have his way with a kid. He would rescue them, even if he had to cross the whole land to get there.

.

"Isn't the weather beautiful today?"

The Fatui soldier didn't voice her answer, only nodded to maintain her silence. She had her head hanging low, for she was paying respect to the man in front of her.

You had to be always careful when in the presence of Dottore, after all.

"A little bird told me something funny today." His deep tone made chills run down her spine. His silhouette in front of the window gave an ominous feeling, the weather displaying a colorful battle of blue, purple, and yellow thanks to the storm outside. "It appears that the Creator themself descended a few years ago!"

"H-huh?!" She could not help the gasp of surprise that left her mouth but quickly returned to her position of submission when the mad man turned to see her.

Instead of getting angry, he smiled creepily. "Just as you hear. Our Divine Grace finally returned to this world, only that they did in a mortal body. That impostor that every soul on Teyvat made their goal to catch? It turned out to be the real and mighty Overlord!"

The Fatui raised her head in disbelief, watching him as he laughed like a maniac.

"But Liyue was the lucky winner; they managed to grab them and display their headless body for every habitant to see!" He took one step closer to the glass, smiling every time lightning illuminated the scenery. "It's just now that the other nations are finding this out... Inazuma might've been the first, as the only thing covering the skies are the mournful thunder and lightning from the lady that holds their power. Ah, she truly must feel like her heart is being ripped out at these news!"

As if agreeing with him, the sky roared a few times.

"She can grieve all she wants. Morax could've been the executioner, but the rest of them also raised their weapons and didn't hesitate to hurt the Divine One even when they claimed innocence asked for mercy."

She didn't know what to say. Was this true? Their almighty god, their benevolent and loving one... Had already descended and was killed because people simply didn't believe it?

"This is going to be fun." Dottore hummed. "I almost can't wait for when the other archons discover what transpired. Will they unleash their fury and sorrow upon Liyue? Hehe, I sure hope this storm marks the beginning of the end."

He turned around and started to exit the room, but not before giving the soldier under him his last command.

"Wait for the next ship to Snezhnaya to deliver a letter. Inform the Tsaritsa that even though her efforts to reach our Divine One to aid them were hindered by the other archons, this time we can all protect the most precious gift they've left for us."

She looked at him quizzically but made no comment to refuse him.

"That's right." He laughed. "We'll take care of them while the rest of the world crumbles and destroys itself..."

——————————

Hello! This is a taglist. Should you wish for me to remove you, you can ask for it.

I can only tag up to 50 people in each post, so the rest will be tagged in the reblog!

Due to the overwhelming support you've given me, I fear I might have forgotten some people who kindly asked to be tagged. If you do not find yourself here, please do tell me. I've saved every username but there's a possibility that I've missed yours when I made the list.

However, I don't know why I can't tag some blogs. I hope this reaches you well.

@cryastre • @someone-with-wild-imagination • @esthelily • @ursinaw • @shizunxie • @meep13r • @clayallor • @yuyuzi-ling • @atsukawolfcat • @yandere-city • @teethmunchertimes • @shinydrakeon15 • @d4ff0d1l14 • @thelonelyarchon • @shadowfoxey • @lunarianillusion • @sarah-saystuff • @scarletttcroww • @insomniackae • @mochicurls21 • @him3ru • @elernity • @d3sperate-enuf • @devils-blackrose • @heather-hutchcroft • @internet-4ngel • @crueldinasty • @yourlocaldrugdealerbutfancy • @almighty-raiden-shogunate • @itz-luna • @kaveh-is-pretty • @yuumaofc • @ratorose • @justlostintheinternet • @angelkazusstuff • @jellidecoffee • @deadflycomputerlogs • @valeriele3 • @no-regrets-just-confusion • @chidouna • @hikaru-exe • @leafanonsforest • @formacoon • @chuuya-brainrot • @fantsyland • @red1sg0n3 • @m3q3kic • @toodledoodl3 • @juuuuuj101010 • @fancyhawk45

@yuus3n • @bre99 • @sucker-for-angst-and-fluff • @nervouseaglelover • @kaoyamamegami • @nightmare-taco • @penguinbabeez • @tartarsaucechi1de • @randomnatics

[savagewildnerness]

O Earthly Lestat, I see now the trouble I’m going to have with S3 is I may have to defend Nicolas a lot…. And I don’t even know how he’ll be written for TV. But I know he means too much to me, and that’s just that. In a way Nicolas means the most to me. Not that he means more to me than Lestat. But that the elements of Nicolas that I relate to (& importantly as you can never get over this feeling - that I related to as a 12-year-old) I cannot think of any other instance in literature or any other fictional character I could relate to or who so exactly articulated something about me. And so I cannot help but always fight for Nicki 100% (even though I am not like Nicki in all ways.)

I want to CLARIFY! This is not some “Nicolas was Lestat’s actual great love” point of view in ANY WAY! LOUIS, is Lestat’s great love!

But this is: Nicolas loved Lestat. It wasn’t only Lestat who loved Nicki. And Nicolas loving Lestat enabled Lestat to love Louis.

I find it beautiful. YES, Nickistat ended AWFULLY! (And that there was mutual love makes it all the more tragic and beautiful to me!) But I just need to say here…

People acknowledge how much of Louis’ words in IWTV are shaded by his own struggles…. So I can’t understand why so many people seem to take Nicolas’ words in his final argument with Lestat (by which point, with whatever nuance you cut it, Nicolas is as described by EVERYONE as a mad vampire, his mind lost!) as 100% his always-truth!!!?! I just cannot comprehend it!!!?! I’d love if anyone would like to explain how you can see it that way, especially after reading the actual way Nicolas was pre-Paris, in Paris, when Lestat was stolen away… all until the moment he witnesses Lestat be shot. THEN it shifts for Nicki!

I’m also not one for blaming Armand for Nicki’s demise. The tragedy of Nicolas is, Lestat is very responsible for Nicolas’ demise, and simultaneously all Lestat did, he did through love. There are a thousand ways Nicki’s tragic demise is Shakespearean inevitable resonance… and yet…

But yeah, it’s actually primarily because of his music & things around his music that Nicki matters so much to me. But nevertheless, he matters & I shall fight for him!!! Lestat and Nicki's conversation matters deeply to me too, and what Nicki is for Lestat in that conversation. But where I connect with Nicki is in his music and how he feels about his music. I personally connect with Lestat's worldview on the other hand. Although in my personality, I am my self, of course, I also relate to some elements of each of them.

The thing with Nicolas I suppose for me though is there are various aspects of his self I relate to that I have never felt anywhere else except in my own self. Not in fiction & not in anyone I have ever known in reality either. And I guess that’s why I will always fight for him. Also, because most people should understand Lestat - we’re so in his heart & head 💛. But we don’t hear the story from Nicolas’ point of view, yet for me, at times it is like he is absolutely in my own mind & heart or I am in his, or it’s the same thing in some odd way I can’t quite articulate. I feel seen by him, and I see him. I understand some parts of him, reflecting how by existing in fiction, he has understood me.

Back to Nicolas. He kept Lestat’s dressing room at Renaud’s as a literal shrine to Lestat. He fought with his friends over Lestat’s moral integrity after Lestat went missing. Even when Lestat was gone, Nicki was still loving him, fighting for him, staying at Renaud’s, wearing rings Lestat sent him. If he felt as he said in his final argument, why did Nicolas even stay working at Renaud's at all? Why was Nicolas so distressed when Lestat sent him lots of money and gifts but didn't ever contact him?

I just list these things, which are just a few ways we see Nicki's feelings through his concrete actions. Nicolas truly did resent Lestat in the end. Just as Lestat couldn’t stand the sight of vampire Nicolas. But even that doesn’t negate love.

Mortal Nicolas DESPERATELY needed Lestat’s light. Vampire Nicki doesn’t. And I see his cruelty in the final argument (while not being entirely absent of truth) as being partly founded in love…. Nicki knows the dark thing he now is & he knows, even in his addled mind Lestat won’t leave him… and he knows Lestat. He knows Lestat must leave him or he’ll take Lestat to his death with him.

It’s ok that love was once & isn’t eternal. It’s ok that Nicki’s love for Lestat did exist, but turned to hate & yet was never entirely lost. It’s ok that Lestat’s love for Nicki never diminished even though he couldn’t stand the sight of him as a vampire. These things don’t negate love. Hate can be part of love. It’s ok that their worldviews were fundamentally different. It’s ok they were not each other’s eternal loves. There was love. Deep and mutual love.

As I see it, we can accept & enjoy that they BOTH loved each other, and that fact only deepens Loustat.

By which time, Nicolas is long dead.

But I genuinely believe when they were mortal, Nicolas’ love for all of Lestat (even when envying him too!) meant Lestat could later love the all of Louis so unconditionally, as he had been loved that way before.

It’s an unpopular opinion, I know. But it’s mine. I express it with acknowledgment I can’t be objective about Nicolas. But that doesn’t lessen the strength of my truth!

In all honesty… we are all subjective humans. Can we be objective about any fictional character we have an emotional connection with?

And that’s the crux of it: when you CARE so much, ultimately it’s about whatever truth you need.

Maybe we ought to think on this on all of our favourite characters & imagine how it might apply to others for any character we love less unconditionally ourselves…?

[clockwayswrites]

Like Betta Fish Do - Part 4

Masterpost of ao3 link and all parts.

wc: 1372

“Hey Dora?” Danny asked from where he was sprawled out on the ground, exhausted from the training session with the other ghost. There was no denying that he was learning a lot from his sessions with her, but she did not hold back. His bruises would have bruises if he didn’t heal so fast.

“Yes Danny?”

“So, awhile back in one of my etiquette sessions with Princess Dorothea, we went over something, but I want to get your take on it too.”

“You mean you did not pay attention and now need me to fill in what you missed?” Pandora asked.

Danny was pretty sure she was smirking.

“No! I paid attention. I just— it doesn’t make sense with what I’ve experienced and I don’t want to messed this up.”

The other halfa’s haunt had felt horrible. While in it, Danny couldn’t wait to get out of there and as soon as he was out of the airspace the relief was instant. But the whole flight back to Amity Park that sadness he had felt at the center of the haunt weighed on Danny. It seemed so at odds with everything the haunt felt like.

It made him wonder what the other halfa was really like under that anger.

It made him think that maybe…

“Very well,” Pandora said, interrupting Danny’s thoughts. He was pretty sure her willingness was less that she believed him about paying attention and more that she was humoring him. He’d take what he could get. “What was this lesson about?”

“Entering another ghost’s haunts. Princess said you were supposed to introduce yourself, ask for permission to enter, and present a gift to the other ghost.”

She nodded along. “Yes, that is the polite way to go about it. Not doing so can be seen as a declaration of battle for many ghosts.”

“Right, that’s great,” Danny grumbled. He really, really hoped that the other halfa had liked the bathbombs. “If that’s the case, why does no one treat me that way? Like, none of the other ghosts asked for permission to enter my haunt or gave me gifts. I mean, I guess some of them introduce themselves. You know, ‘Oooooo I am the Box Ghost!’ and all.”

Pandora smiled at him. Yep, she was amused by all this. “Little King, why would they when you invited them?”

“What? No!” Danny sat up with a jolt. Every bit of his non-corporeal self protested the motion, but he was too thrown by the implication to care. “No I fucking did not invite them! Why would I invite them to wreck my home?”

Pandora raised a brow at him. “What do you believe the portal to be? It is a beacon of welcome.”

“I- what. No! I didn’t even— okay, I mean, yes, I was technically the one who turned the portal on, but I didn’t mean to and it’s my p—” Danny fumbled, swallowing back the hurt. “—Jack and Maddie were the ones who made the portal.”

“But you turned it on, as you said,” Pandora said. “Your very essence is linked to it. It resonates with your power.”

Danny groaned and fell forward to bury his face in his hands. His words of despair were muffled as he continued. “Okay, sure. That’s great. So I, what, declared to the whole ghost realm I was open for a war or something?”

Pandora’s laughter rang out at that, making Danny pry his head out of his hands to look at her incredulously. “No little one! Not to war, but to brawl!”

“What.”

“Brawling! A friendly clash of power and obsession and cores!” Pandora said enthusiastically, her hair flaring brighter for a moment in passion. Danny would swear she struck a pose. (Ghosts, they always found a way to be extra dramatic.) “Brawling is how many ghosts bond with each other. It is very invigorating and satisfies many’s cores.”

“So you’re saying,” Danny started, speaking slowly as he tried to gather his thoughts. His words sped up and got louder till he was almost yelling, “that, what, ghosts are just overgrown beta fish or something? That all of those times I’ve been attacked, all those times Amity Park has been attacked, was just another ghost having fun? Even Skulker? He wants to mount my skin to his wall!”

Pandora paused at that, considering it. “Well, perhaps not Skulker. All ghosts are not the same in motivation or kindness. Though now I am sure that he does not wish to truly harm you. If that is not the case than I will be having a talk with him.”

Her one hand tightened around her sword and her eyes flashed dangerously.

For a small, brief— super brief— moment Danny actually felt sorry for Skulker. The mood passed quickly.

“Right, okay,” Danny said, trying to control both his volume and temper. It wasn’t fair to snap at Pandora like that when she was just trying to explain things. “So a few ghosts like Skulker and Specter and the fruit loop aside, the other ghosts are just… play fighting?”

“Yes, for the most part I believe that to be true. Sometimes it is an attempt to fuel their obsession, but to brawl with you directly is an act of bonding. They are your friends, Danny,” Pandora said, her tone softening, “surely you know this?”

“I—”

Danny stopped to really think about that question. Johnny, Kitty, and Ember were like annoying siblings these days. Boxy the weird uncle someone had put up with over the holidays. Even Skulker wasn’t the worst anymore. Fright Knight he was getting along surprisingly well with in a sort of coworker way. And of course he liked all the Ancients.

“I… guess?”

Pandora came and knelt next to him, resting one of her hands on his shoulder. “What makes you doubt that, little king?”

He frowned and looked away from her with a little shrug. “I guess it’s just, you know, you almost get killed— you know, like, fully killed— by someone a few times and it’s a little hard to move them into the friend box.”

“Their drive in the brawls were not to kill you,” Pandora reminded him. She paused before adding, “Except perhaps Skulker. Whom I will be speaking with.”

“Sure, maybe, like, it’s not that I don’t believe you, Pandora, but it does change that they almost did? I…” He pulled his knees up to his chest, resting his head on them. It sucked to have to admit this to someone he really respected like Pandora. She was so strong and he was… “I know I’m the king to be now and I’ve fought a lot of really tough enemies, but when I was first starting out I wasn’t strong like this. I was really hurt in some of those fights. They may have been playing, but I was fighting for my life. Or I thought I was. I was so sure a few times that I might lose. And even if I beat them, I still had to escape being hunted by… anyways. Some battles were really close.”

“Little king, Danny,” Pandora said. She reached out and gently turned Danny’s face to look at her. “I cannot believe that they knew that. You have always fought with such vigor and life in all the fights that I have known you for. Perhaps with your skill and quips it was too easy to forget that you are still a very young ghost with a great deal of growing left to do. I will speak with them.”

Danny scrambled to stand as Pandora did, protesting, “No, I don’t want anyone to feel badly or—”

“Perhaps not, but it is something they deserve to know. And you deserve to have answers about their intentions. So I will speak with them, my King.”

“Not your King yet,” Danny said, grumbling to cover up how overwhelmed he felt by Pandora’s care.

“No, but one day you will be and my loyalty is already yours. Come though, for now we eat and go over our training from today to see how else we can improve.”

“Yes, Dora,” Danny said, letting himself be pulled along and putting the discussion behind him for now.

-----

AN: Aaaaand the beta fish part comes in! Hopefully this was decently cohesive! The artic front is doing me in and I sometimes lose words with bad headaches. This brings us to the end of chapter 2. I'd like to get at least one more done and everything rewritten before I start putting it up on Ao3. That might take a little because while I know where I want to get to (and have written some of it) I'm not sure the exact steps I want to take to get there. But it will get figured out I'm sure!

As always, stay delightful my darlings and if you've been caught up in the artic front, stay warm!

NOTE: if your tag isn't work, maybe sure you do not have your blog set to be excluded from searches (settings, visibility, hide "blog name" from search results needs to be off). And if I somehow missed you elsewise, let me know!

@fisticuffsatapplebees | @thegatorsgoose | @wolfeyedwitch | @lazy-bouqet | @confusedandghostly | @glomsk | @kailithiel | @bahfev | @d4ydr34min9 | @claudiashq | @someonebored0100 | @pastalavistamf | @samgirl98 | @angelheartgamer | @lehana37 | @spiteismymiddlename | @rosecinnamonbun | @demon-cat-goes-woof | @violet-catsarelife | @trickerdi | @avelnfear | @undead-essence | @basilf1res | @amillionandonefandoms | @stealingyourbones | @sarcastic-yami | @bun-fish | @aconitewolfsbane | @dontfightmecauseillcry | @omgnectarina | @vehan-tikkun-olam-and-stuff | @the-blind-one-speaks | @mimilikey | @wolfe-marvin | @learning-to-fly-on-my-own | @multplelifes | @yurijay | @trickerdi | @bae-graphomaniac | @dragonsrequiem | @jeffeniney | @fan4rt1st | @weirdestarrow | @wolfjackle | @allulily | @onyxlightdragon | @zotinha456 | @wwwwyamd | @wispwishes | @river9noble | @starscreamlover | @may-rbi | @michealawithana | @robinmedea | @spideypoolalways | @jesus-camp-the-sequel | @mysticalcomputerdetective | @persephoneblackrose | @clorophorm-frog | @crystalizedirongoblin | @f4nd0m-fun | @ashleysmshly | @mady-is-ace-trash | @ascetic-orange | @renwilson

[genericpuff]

re: your tags on the rowling / musk post, specifically villains on saturday morning cartoons > wondering why we hate those who emulate it

idk if you ever played toontown, but i’ll always find it hilarious that disney released a game all about fighting big corporations from taking over small businesses, where the enemies (aka cogs (in the machine)) are all named after idioms / insults for types of corp employees (i.e. pencil pusher, ambulance chaser, big wig, loan shark, cold caller); esp considering disney is the Perfect example of the types of corporations that the game teaches you are evil and soulless. honestly, it’s a game i hold near and dear to my heart, and i recommend trying out toontown rewritten if you ever feel like it

i have NOT played toontown but i remember seeing the commercials for it all the time at like, the end of DVD's n junk and REALLY WANTING TO PLAY IT but ofc we didn't have a computer most of the time growing up and when we did it was hooked up with dial-up that my parents always got really clutchy over (idk if this was just a circumstance of the time period but like. did anyone else have a parent who acted like it was a life-or-death scenario if they missed even a single phone call ??? because my folks definitely did LOL) so something like toontown was just not in the cards LOL but I didn't know Toontown Rewritten was a thing so... maybe it's time for me to make another one of my childhood self's dreams come true (´｡• ᵕ •｡`) ♡

but that is really ironic, it's wild (and sad honestly) how so many accomplished writers and creators can become disconnected from what they originally represented and wrote about through... the disillusionment of fame and wealth i guess ??? or maybe it was just mold on the walls the whole time ?? 💀😆 i mean shit even rowling herself told a story about a boy literally living in the closet who finally escaped and went on to fight against an organization of literal fucking wizard nazi's, and yet now she seemingly missed the entire point of why kids resonated with her books so much and why they saw it as an inspiring message of hope and acceptance and love and persevering and standing up against literal fucking fascism ??? hello ???

actually there was a great video i watched a while ago about how despite the messages we took away from those books growing up, the HP books were also completely manufactured through the lens of capitalism, like not just as a franchise but on a narrative level. def give it a watch because it really kinda blew my mind and opened up a whole new perspective on the series for me LOL

[lyssasdrafts]

— AFTERGLOW (azriel x reader)

015: “ just wanna lift you up, not let you go. ”

masterlist previous next

‼️‼️ written portion below the cut ‼️‼️

you’d never felt more at peace.

you’re holding onto azriel’s back, your head laying on his shoulder as he starts up the motorcycle. he drives slowly at first, your heart beat suddenly beginning to race as he starts going at a faster speed, causing you to grip onto him tighter.

a smile passed your lips, though no one could see it since he’d insisted on you wearing his helmet. although the view goes by fast, you try to enjoy the scenery you pass by. nothing but the sound of his cycle and the wind, the lighting below the sunset, and that feeling of gratification within you. you could get used to this, you think to yourself.

he stops at a spot near the mountains, it’s a quiet place with no one else nearby. he helps you off his bike and the two of you find a bench to sit down on. it starts to get darker outside and you talk until the stars start to show themselves.

“so,” he smiles, “was the ride worth the hype?”

you admire the way his eyelashes fluttered in the moonlight. how the shine in his eyes reflects the stars above you. he’s beautiful, you think.

“yes! definitely,” you laugh, “thank you.” and maybe you were starting to fall in love with him, too.

the atmosphere is calm, so relaxing that you find yourself yawning and resting your head on his shoulder.

in your haze, you blurt out a question.

“azriel,” you say, no longer sounding as sleepy. he turns his head at you.

“why did you drop out?”

he stays quiet for a moment, was there something deeper there? you wait until he throws the question back at you, “well, i could ask why you chose to stay at velaris,” he chuckles.

you know that he was joking, but recently you’ve learnt that trust is a two way street. if you wanted him to talk to you about these things, he would appreciate you doing the same.

“honestly, i wouldn’t know where else to go,” you begin. “i’m mostly chose to go to velaris because that’s where nesta went. she’s basically my sister from another mother…”

“did you have anyone else?”

“other than her sisters and maybe lucien, no.” you shake your head. “we grew up together and they were all i had, i was… mostly alone as a kid.” you saw the way his demeanor shifted, something sparked in his eyes, signaling that the same thing resonated with him too. it was on the tip of his tongue, but he respectfully let you continue.

“i know that my mom loved me, but she was too focused on work. i was always over at the archeron household instead,” you smile, thinking of your childhood memories. “i admire her though, it probably wasn’t easy since… you know, my dad wasn’t there.” you chuckle thinking of the trouble you probably caused both your famillies.

“it must’ve been hard raising me while she worked on her corporate business. maybe people at school thought i was probably stuck up and well… i’m not really the easiest person to get closer with.” you lift your gaze from the ground to look at azriel, listening attentively. you give him a smile and a content look, telling him that it’s okay now.

it’s okay because i have you now.

“anyways, it’s your turn,” you chuckle, “what about you?”

azriel hesitates before he looks you in the eyes and realizes it’s okay. “i had a single mom too, y/n. and i didn’t really have any siblings either, i’m an only child. i guess we have that in common.” he tries to force a smile at the thought.

you nod, “you have step-siblings, right?”

“yes, but they’re—” azriel is interrupted by his phone ringing, the bright lockscreen causing a strain to your eyes under this lighting. you don’t see the contact name, but you see him visibly tense up after reading it. though he’s still at a loss for words, he picks up the call, getting up to be a few feet away from you, just out of your earshot.

you’d never seen him as upset as he was during that entire phone call, he mutters a “i’ll get back to you,” before putting it on hold and walking over to you.

“i’m sorry, y/n.”

— NOTES

hearing more about y/n’s backstory and perspective… hopefully we’ll get azriel’s too

spoiler: i think y/n might be in love too 🫶

who do you think called azriel?? 👀👀 you and cassian both tried reaching him before cassian got rhys to call him

— TAGLIST

@ithan-holstroms-girl @strangelycami @fell-in-luvs @goldenmagnolias @glam-targaryen @acourtofdreamsandshadows @bloombb @mp-littlebit @gamarancianne @stqrgirlies-blog @peachcontour-blog @azriels-shadowsinger @awkward-d3rs3-dr3amer @chessebookgirl @fairywriter-oracle @thelov3lybookworm @corvusmorte @evergreenlark @marina468 @405rry @azrielsmate3 taglist is open!! lmk if you want to be added

[kacievvbbbb]

God what even do I do with this chapter 😭 but here are some of my thoughts.

SPOILERS FOR CH. 268

- what the fuck

-“Maybe it’s time to try living for someone else” okay the itafushi shippers really won with that one, I can’t lie. But at the same time it feels like Megumi’s always been living his life for someone else specifically Tsumiki. so it kind of feels like the stronger message would have been to decide to live for himself? Kind of how yuuji’s journey went from finding this greater purpose to live and fight to simply just living is okay as well. But that’s just me. Im interested in hearing other people’s take on the situation

- this is from last chapter but I so really like the parallel of yuuji in this fight for his life with Sukuna and Mahito and being so weighed down by everything that he has lost and everything he is still trying to save and then Kugasaki hits that resonance and Yuuji sees that he’s not alone and god something about it always being Nobara and her insanity breaking him from that sorrow and giving him that last push to fight like he's not alone.

- also I do think seeing Nobara’s resonance after having to be the one to break it to itadori that she wasn’t recovering, really solidified that there where things still worth living for.

- I don’t know something about Sukuna finally after all these chapters acknowledging itadori by finally saying his name is so very Sukuna off him. It’s like the inverse of him going into Jogo’s flashing life and telling him he’s strong. This time he’s the one dying and he’s finally acknowledging the boy that killed him. Say what you want about Sukuna but he ain’t no sore fucking loser.

- God how fucking Yuuji Itadori of the whole thing to after everything all the terror and the torture and the pain to still offer Sukuna a chance to live and live better. A chance to not be a slave to his nature to this curse in their blood. God Yuuji what do I even do with you.

- okay so not even a fucking frame of the Hakari/Uraume showdown. Really 😭😭. It looked like things were happening too. With that final parting it looked like they’d reached some kind of understanding and not even a fucking frame. Gege the way your mind works.

- really not even one punch? Not even one gambling shot. I’d have payed good fucking money to see Hakari explaining how a pachinko machine works to a 1000 year old curse servant.

- the little “you’re just lucky is the best compliment for a guy like me” and the “yeah I guess it is” was a great exchange tho. Which is is why I wonder. Really not one fucking frame😭. I wonder if mappa will just ignore this and give them a fight scene anyway like they elongated the Sukuna vs Mahagora fight.

- and now finally, some good fucking food.

- Gojo’s little I killed your daddy note is so funny. What the fuck is wrong with him

- again. What the fuck.

- Nobara being as rude as fucking always god I love her. She is taking no prisoners. Fuck you mean you aren’t weeping at her feet at her return.

-Them trying to do the whole box suprise for Megumi and him catching them in the act is so stupid I actually can’t 😭. They really only have one braincell

- Nobara not giving a single fuck about her mom like what. Also what did she mean by “Special grade authority”

- crazy that they all got face scars now. They’re a matching set.

- I wonder what Yuuji’s talk with gojo was. I wonder what parental figure gojo exposed for him.

- I dunno this chapter making me feel like he might come back. Gojo Satoru just might make a come back.

- I’m glad that atleast after everything it’s gunna end with the three of them. Maybe a little damaged and worse for wear but together and that counts for something.

-lastly…..what the fuck m.

[sixth-light]

ok ok slightly feral post as promised.

first, some context setting: I think it's really interesting to analyse texts in terms of both what the author was trying to do (and whether they succeeded) and what they ended up doing (intentionally or not) and I think their cultural/historical context is vital if you want to do this. I'm not interested in whether Robert Jordan or the Wheel of Time are, like, morally correct in their politics or whatever. I'm interested in what the art is trying to do.

and the thing about Jordan, see, is that he projected this image during his lifetime of a Genial Older Man (see: beard and pipe) but he...wasn't actually that old! He was 42 when EoTW was published. He died at 58. He was a Baby Boomer publishing books at a time when Baby Boomers were the hip young generation taking over from stodgy WWII veterans (Gen Z: It Will Happen To You Too).

What this means is that he was a child and adolescent during the Civil Rights movement, in a then-majority Black city in the Jim Crow South*. He would have gone to segregated schools. The tertiary institutions he attended had only started to desegregate a year or two before he attended each of them. I think his war trauma in Vietnam gets a lot of attention because he did talk about it and also because that's a narrative we understand for white men, but I think we...skim over the impact on white men of growing up at this time because? Civil Rights only happened to Black Americans I guess? but it's his context too. Similarly, he was an adolescent and young man at the time the (white) feminist movement was really kicking off in the US. he was in his mid-20s when banks were first legally *required* to allow women to open accounts and have credit cards in their own names. he went on to marry a woman a decade older than him, who had left her husband to raise her son as a single mother while continuing a professional career in the early 70s; these were issues that must have been incredibly relevant for her.

and what we see in his writing is attempts to grapple with gender and race that are self-evidently of mixed success, but I think have to be contextualised in light of this period of immense change he grew up in. Think about the predominance of women as merchants and bankers in WoT, in the context of how recent their rights to even control their own money were in the US. The...everything...he was trying to do with the Seanchan, making them extra-canonically Southern American-coded. The Whitecloaks as the KKK (among other things, of course).

As an example, I think there's also something probably unintentional but fascinating in the way he presents the pre-Breaking Aiel: bluntly, they are a distinct ethnic group in hereditary servitude (always thinking about how that ancestor of Rand's in the Rhuidean sequence had to get permission from Mierin Sedai to switch to someone else's service so he could marry his girlfriend, this is...uh...super cognate to issues enslaved Black people faced). They're associated with agriculture through the Song sequence. And they're pretty much the ideal of what slave-owning Southern American culture WANTED enslaved Black people to be: completely happy to serve. Then, as the post-breaking Aiel, they become feared as a source of violence, which resonates with the way that enslaved people were feared by their slavers.

I don't think for a second that the intention here was to depict the AoL as a Secret Slavery Dystopia, I think we're meant to take the Rhuidean flashback sections pretty much as they read on the page. But I also think putting Jordan in his historical and cultural context does pose the comparison. Similarly, I find it really interesting that he positions Seanchan as riven by constant revolts and uprisings (because it's a fascist slaver regime) but he never ever goes so far as to link enslaved people in Seanchan (damane and da'covale) to those revolts and uprisings, even though that is fundamentally the deep fear *for real and obvious reasons* of all slavery-based societies.

Or then there's the changes to the Two Rivers in the books - like, both then and now I think it's actually pretty radical to present an influx of Muslim-coded refugees of colour as a thing that enriches the Two Rivers both socially and economically. Various characters are wistful that it's changed, but they don't think it's bad. The text here is really clear that welcoming the Domani and Almoth Plain refugees is both morally right and beneficial. And this is in a book being written and published shortly after the first Gulf War.

There's so many more things like this where I just have no real idea what he was trying to do on purpose and what was accidental and what was fun for him in fiction but did not necessarily link at all to his real-world political beliefs. but gosh it's interesting to turn over and poke at.

[oftenwantedafton]

begin again | springtrap x female reader

words | 2.6k

cw | mature rating, body horror

ao3 link

You enter the barn with a mixture of trepidation and excitement.

The owner of the property you’re invited to leads you through the clouds of dust stirred up as you enter the building, the disturbed particles flickering like chips of mica in the slanting rays of the afternoon sun filtering through the doorway of the rotting structure. The entire farm has the same feeling of neglect, of demands that can no longer be met, as wilted as the elderly man that lumbers along in an arthritic kind of manner, joints undoubtedly aching as badly as the support beams of the building you’re now standing inside. He’s weathered, his body clearly failing, but his eyes are sharp and his voice is still strong and resonant as he gestures to something large covered with a tarp just ahead of you. To a casual onlooker their guess might have been an automobile or a piece of farm equipment tucked beneath that material, but you’re no casual onlooker. You know exactly what you’re looking for, and you think maybe, just maybe, this man has somehow stumbled upon it through some random happenstance, some chance encounter.

“It’s there. Go on, have a look, missy.”

You stiffen at this term of address but choose to ignore it, stepping forward and letting your fingers grasp the edge of the blue covering. It’s as battered and filthy as everything else around here, and you wonder if the item it’s shielding can really be in much better condition.

You hold your breath and pull. Pull and pull and pull, because there is a lot to expose, thrusting the tarp aside and finally exhaling when you catch sight of the seven foot long object. Yes, it is what you’ve been seeking and yes, it is in terrible condition. But it can be fixed. You know how.

“Uglier than sin, that,” the man mutters, pacing around a little to ease up his stiffening joints. “Grandson was proud as anything lugging that here. Tried to tell him it wasn’t worth—” He abruptly clamps his mouth shut. He’s not about to admit what he has in storage has little monetary value.

“It’s an original. One of the actual originals,” you murmur appreciatively, taking in the sight of it from all angles. A lot of damage on the left side. It will take months to repair. Your favorite type of project.

“‘Told ya. Came from that accursed restaurant, just like I said on the phone.”

You finish surveying the object and turn to face the farmer. “How much are you asking?”

The elderly man’s bushy white eyebrows lower as his eyes narrow shrewdly, trying to estimate how much he can price gouge. His gaze flicks down to your shoes, then over to your handbag. Designer originals, or knockoffs? He’s looking into your eyes now, sucking in a whistling rasp of air. “It’s going to cost a bit, missy. Being so rare and all. An original, like you said.”

Perhaps you should have omitted voicing that information out loud. Too late now, though, isn’t it? You’re about to find out just how much that slip up will cost you. “How much?” You repeat again.

“Ten grand.”

You bark a laugh. “Extortion. No deal.”

“Eight,” he counters.

“Seven and a half. Cash. Final offer.”

The man scowls but nods.

“How did you get it in here, anyway?”

“Grandson and his buddies used the tractor.”

“I’ll tip them an extra five hundred if they help load it onto the truck. I can call for help, but it will save me some time.”

“I’m sure he’ll oblige. He’s up at the house.” The man begins to turn away, then pauses, glancing back at you. “I went to that place, you know. The pizzeria. Years ago, back when it was open. Met the owner. Had that same look in his eye as you. That raw hunger. He didn’t come to a good end, as I understand. You might want to take caution before you end up the same as him.”

“Noted,” you say, digging a paper envelope out of your purse and counting out the bills. There are still plenty leftover. $10k wouldn’t have been a bad amount to pay in all honesty. But why not barter? The repairs will be costly.

The man scowls and then turns away again, beginning the painful journey back to the farmhouse.

You think you’ve gotten the better end of the deal.

***

Thirty years have passed.

He doesn’t know this number, precisely, because that stretch of years has altered his composition. He is neither dead nor alive, neither human nor machine. There is no name for what he has evolved into because nothing like him has ever existed before. He is new, yet old. Eternal.

Over time the joints have become locked in place, rusted and frozen. The stagnant air of the abandoned pizzeria permeates the holes in the ripped costume, but cannot inflate the withered lungs within. Back when he had been closer to human, there had still been a sense of taste, a bitter metallic mixture of his own blood and the internal components of the suit combining where they had pierced his jaw. He cannot speak; has not made a sound for a long time. Punctured airways, slipping past his trachea and dipping between ribs, have made this feat impossible. His imprisoned body has been folded in on itself in the most unnatural of ways, shoved inside a vent, trapping him in what could be considered part of the building’s circulatory system, if such a thing could exist, not unlike a clot trapped inside a blood vessel, comprised not of clotting particles and protein threads but steel and plastic, wiring and circuitry, fur and felt and the unsavory desicated corpse of the establishment’s owner deep within, entombed, mummy-like.

This is how he is when he is found, pored over like an old, broken toy rediscovered, temporarily reigniting a sense of wonder that had once existed. For a moment, the yellow rabbit has meaning again. He is extracted and shipped to a barn, then covered with a tarpaulin, waiting for the highest bidder, for someone to make use of him again.

Waiting, perhaps, for you.

The giant rabbit has no way of knowing that he’s been purchased by someone who is expert on animatronic engineering, someone intent on keeping him, allowing him to narrowly avoid the fate of being put on display in a gruesome sort of museum commemorating not the memories of a place meant to bring happiness, but the secret terror that has instead endured. That place will still undoubtedly become a reality but he will never be a part of it, thanks to your intervention.

He does not feel the first sets of hands that manipulate him, roughly dragging him from his confinement; has no conscious awareness he has even shifted locations immediately. It is not until weeks later when he begins to return to himself, slowly drip feeding alertness into whatever this new creature he has become is. These hands on him now—your hands—are gentle and careful. They card carefully though the rotting fur and dance softly over the gaping holes, cautious about touching the exposed alloys and electronics within.

His restoration begins with a passive range of motion performed on his still locked up joints not so unlike the farmer who had sold him. You test each extremity, deciding what can be salvaged and what rusted parts must be replaced. You have apparently decided to work from the bottom up, beginning with the overly large, almost comical feet before reaching his legs.

You speak to him as you perform each task, your voice soothing like water moving over pebbles in a brook, a gentle murmuring sort of sound. He finds himself missing that noise when you are not present, forced to wait on the work table until you return each day.

Once you’ve finished with his lower extremities, your path diverts from his torso to manage his arms, repeating the same process as before. He is curious who you are; how you come to be so intimately acquainted with the workings of an animatronic suit. Grudgingly impressed with how brave you are when encountering the bits of decayed flesh plastered on bone during the excavation process, leaving these parts as intact and unscathed as possible, carefully continuing to focus on the synthetic pieces of the mascot.

Now that all four of his limbs are accounted for, it is time to shift attention to the large chest piece. This process alone takes a great deal of time. The bulk of the suit, and the failed springlocks that had doomed the human within, lie in this cavity. It is a tricky business to move those unrelenting claws that resemble human ribs, extracting damaged components and replacing them with new technology. The safety devices that should have protected his comparatively fragile body had not kept it from injury, but instead done quite the opposite, the dangerous internal workings of the mascot lodging in and merging with their victim.

When this job is finally completed, days or weeks or months later—he still cannot accurately say, his sense of time still distorted in this odd sort of half reality he occupies now—it is time for the work on the headpiece to begin.

His own eyes have been destroyed, but the animatronic’s have not, and it is on these you devote yourself to next. It is a startling thing for you both when they flare to life again, a dull silver glow that becomes brighter and brighter, like the headlights of an oncoming vehicle approaching on a lonely stretch of road at night. He can see your face, peering at him as you lean over, pupils following the surprised flutter of lashes as if they are a penlight being shown during a physical exam in a physician’s office. He tracks your movements and they become smoother beats, the delays imperceptible now. You smile and he feels something in that gesture. He’s pleased you, the science project you’ve been working on proving to be a success.

A memory stirs. His eldest with a school project for the science fair. Seventh or eighth grade. Struggling for a topic. He’s inherited none of his father’s penchance for engineering. Harbors no passion for the sciences. Perhaps this has evolved from his father’s growing lack of time and interest invested in his own family, his attention increasingly focused on the business he manages, the mechanical creations taking precedent over his own flesh and blood ones. It would have, perhaps, been a chance for him to bond more with the boy, but instead he’d been ignored, the rift between them widening further still. It would be much, much worse later, when he’d inadvertently caused the death of his baby brother.

But that was all in the past now. All of his children are gone, and he is gone, too, but not quite in the same manner. He shuts the memories away again, sliding the drawer of that mental filing cabinet closed and locking it tight.

***

You do not return the next day, or the one after that. You are gone for a long while, and it is alarming. He is still immobile, still unable to move at will, save for his eyes, which cannot see much more than the ceiling tiles above him. He rages internally against his body, but it is futile. He has no control, until he is given it; until you restore it to him. There is renewed anger, an emotion he’d felt so often as a human.

There are new visitors to the room he dwells in, and they are not kind like you.

They do not handle him with care like you do. There is no reverence, no respect. He is manipulated to the point of being broken, both the remains of his human body and the recently repaired animatronic one. There is pain, when limbs are twisted backwards and he’s heaved onto the floor, and this sensation, while unpleasant, means that he is, in some manner, becoming more alive. He holds onto that feeling, mentally envisioning gritting teeth, fingers tightening. He will not let go.

You finally return, discovering him like this, a crumpled, broken mess on the floor. Your delicate surgeries undone, your progress trampled. You do not speak, remaining silent, like he is. You have to find others to help you move him back into position, lying supine on the work surface. He hears mutters about time wasted, mockery over your dedication, comparing you to Frankenstein with his freakish creation. The anger flares anew and he is glad when they are gone.

Tears begin dropping between the rabbit’s teeth, sliding past his own. It is likely only his imagination that he can taste that salted liquid, but he savors that moisture, the first he’s known in so long. Finally you speak, asking forgiveness for being away. He has never been one to forgive or forget, but he finds it in himself to grant you mercy.

You begin again.

You work long hours. So long that eventually one evening you fall asleep right there beside him, head pillowed on one arm, the circuit board you’d finished soldering waiting to be placed resting on his torso. He listens to the sound of your breathing, the steady in and out, and he wonders if you are dreaming.

***

Your attention is now directed to his throat, to the severed vocal chords and collapsed cartilage. Even after the voice box is installed, there is still the matter of his jaw to be addressed. This is where the man trapped within is most visible, through the gaps of the teeth in the headpiece, to the human set fixed inside, gaping in some silent eternal torment.

“How do I…” you wonder aloud, and indeed, how do you solve this problem? You cannot remove the headpiece because of the way it is attached, mascot welded to skeleton. Yet you cannot access the interior through such a narrow gap in the character’s mouth. Elsewhere you had been able to work around such fusions. But here, you have no such space. Your fingers rest along the rabbit’s jaw. So close. You’re so close to completing the restoration process.

***

You have no way of knowing how it feels, to have your fingers rake across the new golden fur you’ve gifted. He shouldn’t be able to feel that, and yet he is, and it shocks him how vibrantly pleasurable it is. As adoring as a lover’s caress. Pride in what you’ve achieved, affection for what you’ve salvaged. He’s baffled by it, unable to fathom why you would ever find something as wretched as himself deserving of such feelings, and yet here you are, lavishing it upon him. He feels your hand resting somewhere above where his human heart resides, cold, unfeeling thing though it had been, and he wills that dried husk of an organ to beat once again. When you rest your face against it, he imagines his lungs inflating once more, lifting your head gently. He longs to settle one steel encased hand in your hair, but he still cannot move of his own free will. There is something lacking. Some final, missing piece of the puzzle that eludes you both.

“I tried. I’m sorry. I don’t know how,” you whisper. Your nose touches his. Your breath creeps in through the rabbit’s mouth, easing past the trapped man’s stretched maw. There is no blue fairy to make the artificial creature come to life. There is just you, this woman, working so diligently, so desperately.

Who are you? The yellow rabbit wonders, again, and again.

Your lips brush the corner of the mascot’s mouth before you straighten. A spark of heat. The sluggish flutter of dried valves. The creature gasps and a fresh burst of air fills it. A series of taps as the fingers of one hand move against the metal work surface. Your eyes, wide and full of wonder, as he reaches for you.