#that’s been fact checked. by me. and it is

[caughtthedarkness93]

Wikipedia it. TV Tropes it. Watch a YouTube review. Seriously. Anything else.

I remember being in a discussion on Reddit about Joseph Campbell's Hero's Journey and I argued that it's not really relevant to most writers and a lot of the stories that Campbell would've been studying don't exactly follow it. I used Beowulf as an example and some guy comes along and asks ChatGPT to give a reading of Beowulf through the lens of the hero's journey.

Except there were two problems with this.

One, the arguments it spat out were flat wrong. They somewhat accurately summarized Beowulf's events, but completely butchered the story's structure, and slotted multiple events and characters into places they don't fit on the Hero's Journey. Hrothgar as Beowulf's mentor, for example, when he's just a guy who has a problem that Beowulf shows up to solve. By no narrative metric is he a mentor.

Two, the person who did this hadn't actually read Beowulf. They had no way of actually fact-checking the statement the AI spat out. They just...trusted it to deliver an accurate answer. It did not. When I called them on this, they responded by saying they had likely read more books than me.

I know it feels like some kind of cheat code, but it's just going to lie to you with extreme confidence because essentially what it's doing is putting words together in an order that they seem like they should go together. And it's kind of like a horse doing math in that way - it's impressive that it can do it, but only because it's a horse.

So please, as someone else with an English degree, do not do this. You have no way of telling whether anything it's giving you is actually true.

what is HAPPENING

[wtfaniii]

I can do it alone, but he can also save me

Fem reader x Hwang In-ho / Fem reader x Hwang Jun-ho

Part 1 // Part 2

•Summary: Jun-ho's girlfriend was a decorated policegirl, strong and brave, she, along with Gi-hun were taken to the games to stop them, however, there was a setback in between

•Note: Thanks for the support! Here I bring you the second part of this one shot that is personally one of my favorites.

•Warning: Maybe some drama, Some violence and attempted abuse, ¡Don't worry! this man arrives on time like a prince on a white horse

N/A: I haven't checked this yet, sorry if it has spelling mistakes

Gi-hun had told some participants that the next game would be dalgona, but it was not so and now they were upset with him, surrounding him and complaining about his mistake, calling him a "liar."

—You guys decided to play these games —the girl said standing in front of Gi-hun —Face the consequences and don't expect someone to come and save us.

—He's a fraud! —Player 100 shouted at him, pointing at accusingly and with contempt.

—ibelieve in him word —001 interrupted, standing next to her.

Due to the first impression that the two made on all the players, the complaints immediately stopped and retreated.

—It's nothing, I really believe you —Young-il said with a friendly expression

—And if you allow me... I would like to be on your team.

The next game would be in teams of five players, counting the girl, Gi-hun, Jung-bae, Dae-ho and now Young-il, they were full, however, when they were talking to get to know each other a little, a woman with the number 222 on his uniform approached them cautiously.

—¿Can I be on your team? Please —Jung-bae was going to interrupt her to tell that they were full but the young woman finished his sentence first —I'm pregnant.

The five pairs of eyes fell on the small bulge of her belly and noticed that it was true. Immediately, the woman spoke. —I'll look for another team.

—¿Are you sure you'll do it?— In-ho asked, looking at her carefully. A person who looked out for someone else's well-being in these games was rare to see, but considering the situation, it was quite understandable. He wouldn't give up his place if he wasn't so interested in his enemy.

She nodded confidently and left to find another team, it didn't take long, after all, most people took advantage of having someone like her on their team just by considering the word "police" in their introduction.

Once the teams were formed and they were told what had to do, they sat on the floor to wait the turn.

As time passed and gunshots mixed with screams sounded in the background, the young woman thought silently.

¿Will Jun-ho be okay? She really hoped so, she had known him for four years and knew that there were times when he could go to extremes to get what wanted.

It was something she loved about him but right now just worried about.

—¿What game are you going to play? —246 asked sitting next to her, momentarily taking her out of his thoughts.

—Gonggi —answered immediately, she was very good at that game, it had been his favorite since she was a child.

The others nodded and continued talking, she didn't go there with the intention of socializing too much.

For starters.

She was only there because Jun-ho had asked her to.

Jun-ho...

She just hoped him could find her and Gi-hun in time.

The policeman had no intention of stopping now, even without having the tracker active and with the fact that apparently someone was sabotaging them from inside, he was not going to stop searching.

The woman he loved was in those games, that wasn't going to be the plan, she was only supposed to be Gi-hun's bodyguard but things didn't go as planned.

—I think we should stop, it's almost time to eat and we're a bit far from the shore.

—We can't be so close now —he said, somewhat irritated and helpless. —Every minute they spend on that island is a danger.

He felt guilty for having dragged her into his own problems.

He remembered the last conversation he had with her before he lost sight of her.

[...]

—We are police officers —Jun-ho said, showing his badge to the guard who was guarding the entrance of the place

—Just like everyone else tonight —the man said with a mocking laugh, pointing at the long line waiting to get into the Halloween party.

Jun-ho didn't have enough patience to tolerate this, so with no other choice he went up to the man and took his gun out of his pocket.

—¿Do you want to see if this is a toy?

The guard stepped back in fear, giving them free passage.

The girl smiled proudly and waved her hand as if it were hot while sighed.

—That's my man —she boasted to the guard as they crossed the entrance. Jun-ho managed to hear her and inevitably a sly smile appeared on his lips.

—We have to find him before they do —he said, referring to Gi-hun searching the crowd but no masked pink guard was visible.

—It will be faster if we separate —she added, taking out her weapon and pointing it at the ground just to be ready in case used it —When we leave here it will be fondue night —she said without losing her charming touch.

It was something they both shared, despite being in tense situations like this, comments like that were never lacking, especially from the girl and that was something Jun-ho adored, her daring was part of what made the policeman fall in love with her.

—Maybe I should drag you into my problems more often —He replied with a smile and separated from her.

The girl was the first to find Gi-hun and surprisingly they let her get into the limo with him.

Jun-ho was unhappy about that but he couldn't change her mind and just when they thought they could intercept the front man of those suicide games they were forced to make a last-minute decision by shooting at the tires of the cars.

[...]

His stomach turned just remembering what people go through inside those games, he trusted that she could survive but the odds of not making him tremble and want to vomit.

—Okay... we'll call off the search —He relented after a few minutes.

He looked up at the sky and asked whoever would listen him to keep the woman he loves alive.

Meanwhile on the island, they had managed to get through the second game alive, she was sitting with Gi-hun's team silently watching around them when 001 sat next to her.

—Hi... —he greeted her with a soft smile, hoping that the mask being Young-il was convincing enough to fool her —I'm curious... if you're a police officer, ¿how did you end up here?

—¿Debts? —She replied with a false smile —My job was to take care of Mr. Seong but it didn't turn out the way I had in mind —she admitted, looking away again but feeling Young-il's intense gaze on her.

—So... ¿you're here as an undercover agent? —he asked, feigning surprise and curiosity.

He himself was the one who gave the order to allow her to also get into the limousine to accompany Gi-hun.

In-ho knew his brother would be worried about her, searching for her relentlessly, but it was inevitable, he needed to meet her in person and be sure how good of an influence she was on Jun-ho.

Or at least he thought it was a good excuse.

—Yeah... —She looked at him silently and attentively when she noticed a certain peculiarity in him appearance —¿Do I know you from somewhere? I feel like I've seen you before...

Him face seemed familiar but she couldn't figure out why. In-ho kept eye contact with her, waiting for her answer.

It was a pity, if she recognize it him had no other option to let her die in the next games but luckily for the girl she denied it.

—Forget it, I'm just stressed ¿And why are you here?

—My wife is sick and pregnant.

She looked at him with pity as he told her his story, it wasn't a lie, it was just that it happened years ago and he couldn't do anything to keep her alive.

—I'm sorry —The girl said after he finished his words.—I promise we'll get out of here and I'll help you as much as I can with the expenses.

The police had money, not to say that she was a millionaire but she lived in a good social status, she was willing to help him only because her heart was softened by him story.

–You barely know me, ¿why would you do that?

—My boyfriend has also had a somewhat hard life and I took this job for a reason, to help others.

She did not consider herself a saint, but if she had the opportunity to do something good for other people, she would do it regardless of the consequences.

—Also... I think I'm pregnant —She said with a small smile.

How chaotic and unfair could fate be that just one night before she was to go to the medical laboratory for her results, she was taken to those games against will.

On the other hand, she could also feel a slight connection with this stranger, which was why she revealed that to him so naturally, but she still didn't know exactly why.

—I have to go to the bathroom, I'll be right back.

He nodded and watched her leave but his eyes also noticed three other suspicious looking players who followed her into the bathroom.

Without thinking twice he also stood up.

Not even two minutes had passed since she entered the bathroom when a woman grabbed her by the collar of the jacket and threw her backwards, making her fall on back.

–¿You remember me? —the woman demanded, looking at her with disdain and annoyance

—No —She answered standing up.

—You threw my husband into prison and won't be out for another twenty years —The woman pulled out a small pocket knife and another woman stood behind the police girl to hold her —I thought about how to kill you for days.

—Very cute, I still don't know who you are.

Those words only made the woman even more furious as lunged at her and tried to stab her,

Her hard training served her well in this unarmed fight.

But she was counting on another man to come in to help the two players who were trying to kill the young policewoman.

—Three against one unarmed is not fair... —she gasped for air as saw that he had a small opening in his head, her had hit himself on the sink at one point during the fight.

—¡It was also not fair that my husband was sentenced to twenty years in prison for attempted abuse!

—Oh, believe me, I tried to make it forty.

A kick to the face from one of them managed to stun her long enough to give them time to pin her down on the cold, damp bathroom floor.

She couldn't hear clearly what they were saying but when she saw how the man placed himself on top of her, their intentions were quite clear.

She didn't have enough strength to continue defending himself, her felt bleeding from his leg from the knife and the cut on his head hurt, but like a hero coming to save the day, Young-il walked through the door and shouted "Hey!"

That small interruption was enough for her to hit the man in the genitals with her knee, making him move away and moan in pain.

She was too stunned to see what was happening, but before she knew it, he had her in him arms and walked out of the bathroom leaving the two women unconscious on the floor and the man with a bleeding nose.

—¡You should do a better job as guards! —he yelled at the two pink soldiers guarding the door, she didn't know it but that scolding was enough to fire those two.

He carefully led her to the men's room where, due to his front man advantages, he was able to have a guard deny another player access until he said so.

—Thanks... —Her murmured as he dropped her on the ground—But I had it under control.

She let out a giggle that made his ribs hurt, In-ho refrained from laughing, now he had to focus on fixing her wounds.

—Being a police officer you made many enemies —He said while using his jacket with some water to clean her.

—You have no idea.

In-ho continued to clean her wounds and after a few minutes everything was better for her, the girl stood up cautiously because of the wound on her leg and thanked Young-il with a small bow.

—Thanks for helping me, for the second time.

—I hope it doesn't become routine —he said with a soft smile, looking her up and down unconsciously.

When they came out of the bathroom there were suspicious glances but neither of them cared.

It was cute, she liked the way this man treated whenever her found himself in trouble, in a way he reminded her of Jun-ho,

She liked that even though she could defend herself, there was still a knight in shining armor who would arrive in the worst situations.

Young-il, the gentleman who arrived just in time and the only one who knew about her suspected pregnancy.

tag list:

@raya4643 @lvspedri @iloveoldermen0204 @ravenslocked

[spiderfunkz]

I'M SORRY, SWEETIE, PLEASE, DON'T GO

pairings. cho hyun-ju x f!reader

cw. heavy angst, death, canon violence, sad themes, the use of y/n once.

author's note: my requests for hyun-ju are still open! also this doesn't really match up to the canon events during the mingle game, but i tried my best to make it make sense. reader is sort of young-mi in this position, lowkey..

everything felt so suffocating recently. aside from the bills that are continuously pilling up, you are thinking about every possible outcome that could happen.

see, you thought you would be dead meat by the first game. but growing up in tough environments helped you to be still, quiet, frozen. you still hid behind someone the entire time though. a very tall, at least from your angle, woman. she seemed very brave, and that was fact checked when she went out to help somebody. she didn't seem much older than you, that was noted in your head.

later on, you would introduce yourself to her. keeping your calm, you kept your posture straight whilst talking to her. she was looking around for a team, everybody was bickering about what this game could be. so far, from your observation, men were keeping to themselves, rejecting the women offering help. even when they are sometimes bigger than them.

"excuse me, um, would you like to team up with me?" you looked at her, she looked really pretty, you noticed how her hair was very well kept, even in situations like this. her name is cho hyun-ju, you will forever remember her name.

after a while, you made it through the game. you two managed to find three more people. a mother with her son, and a very shy girl named young-mi. you all formed a bond since then.

you got to know hyun-ju better. why she was here, why she wanted to continue the games, she opened up, and you reassured her that she was beautiful, twice.

hyun-ju brought a sense of comfort, it made you feel at ease. she was equally as curious with you. you opened up as well. by the end of it, smiles were exchanged, jokes were tossed around, she was nice.

she wanted to go to thailand. it made sense, people were more accepting there than in korea. you knew some places in thailand, well you heard from close neighbors that went there once.

"i know a spot. in thailand. it's a hidden gem, that's what they told me. they say they have the best food. the place is surrounded by cats and they say the atmosphere is great!"

she smiles, "we should go. when this is all over."

"like a date?" you joked, she seemed serious, "yes. like a date."

you knew your chances of surviving was low. but you made the pinky promise anyway.

"hyun-ju!" you yelled, the lights were burning your sight. the platform you were standing on wasn't stable, you already tripped a few times.

you tried looking around, trying to spot anyone you knew. but it felt hopeless for you. the time was ticking, the screen glowed the number 4. unlucky bastard, you whisper.

that's when your hand was grabbed, it was hyun-ju. you felt safe with her touch. she ran towards a door, the mother and son you teamed up with earlier was ahead of her, where was young-mi?

stepping into the door made you feel secure. but it wasn't right, that's when you heard young-mi's voice pleading for help.

"unnie!" the door was closing, you have to think quick.

without much hesitation, you let go of hyun-ju's hand. pushing young-mi into the room just in time. you were out.

your forehead was pressed against the door, the small opening letting you see hyun-ju just one last time. she banged loudly, it was too late however. the timer went out.

you didn't regret what you just did. you knew young-mi wanted to go home more than you, she was younger. you would feel worse if you let her be the one in your position.

"hyun-ju," your voice croaked, the shots were loud.

"y/n!" she was inches away from you. the door blocking what could've been. her eyes seemed glossy, she was on the verge of tears.

"i guess that date to thailand has to wait, yeah?" you give her a sad smile—

thud.

[elcias-diary]

Isn't that kinda exactly why Aragorn decides to show himself in the Palantir? To make sure Sauron is too busy pissing his metaphorical pants to notice a .... (What's a group of hobbits called?) walking up to his back door?

...

Actually it's kinda funny to think that the barely corporeal jerk was sweating over Elrond's boys, while already cursing out Glorfindel for coming back after he'd been killed, first off, and second, keeping Frodo from the Nine. But then out pops Aragorn being a cheeky bastard. Next thing Sauron knows a very white, totally not corrupted and quietly coming over to his side of the argument, wizard is just zigzaging across the map at speeds not known to man since the Horse Lord days.....

In fact!

This has me wondering if Sauron wet his incorporeal self the afternoon a boot licking underling turns up in his throne room from the ass end of Mordor with a small mithril shirt and a convoluted report of *checks notes* "a great grey shadow, most certainly an Elf Warrior, with a shining blade" got passed the Watchers of Cirith Ungol and definitely "singlehandedly killed a tower full of orcs" (yep, totally not them murdering eachother over a promotion), before escaping to no one knows where with a small spider bit humanoid in tow!

Like... Immediately after Elrond's adopted "son", who is none other than Isildur's Heir!!, who is engaged to said daughter!!!, takes back Gondor.

...A battle where the Witch King, who is supposed to be unkillable, totally died!!!!

The day Sauron dragged himself back into corporeality and discovered Elrond and Celebrian had kids while he was MIA was one of the worst days of his life.

He’s not scared of Galadriel is a mantra he mutters to himself sometimes when things feel tough. She’s just… a lot. And Elrond has been a thorn in his side for ages, with his stupid Numenor connections and tendency to show up with an army at exactly the wrong time. Sure, he doesn’t seem to take after Luthien much, but Luthien didn’t seem to take after Luthien much until one day she showed up out of nowhere and just started destroying evil fortresses and ripping people’s throats out. 

Now these losers are just throwing their genetic information together and seeing what pops out? Incredibly rude. The chances of a Luthien 2.0 (With Even More Menacing Prophesy) is not 0. 

Fortunately news trickles out of Rivendell that the twins are just very intense jocks, but the best intelligence he can find on Arwen is “grandma’s favorite” and “kind of quiet” and that concerns him. 

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

P*rn ☆  Chapter 2, Moving noises?

Masterlist Word count: 1.9 k Sylus x Fem!Reader

Summary: You have been following a spicy content creator by the name of Red Crow for some time now. Nothing could’ve prepared you for what would happen when he moves into the apartment next door.

Warning! This story is meant for mature audiences. It contains sex, swear words, porn, smoking, intimate piercings, mentions of drugs, and other mature themes. Do not engage if you are under 18.

Author's note: Haha, take this! 2 chapters in one day! Also, every time I write another chapter to this story I have to update the warnings and it isn't even that spicy yet.

Mature content under the cut.

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'Are you alright? You look tired.' Tara sounds awfully concerned and you can imagine why. The bags under your eyes might as well be down to your knees by now. Turns out your new neighbor is nocturnal. You couldn't care less about the moving noises, but the fact that they only happen past ten pm is killing you. 

'No kidding,' you sass at her. Quickly, you smack your hands in front of your face. Sure, you're known to have an attitude but never to Tara. She's too sweet. 'I'm sorry, I'm just so tired.' 

Tara frowns: 'Is it that new neighbor of yours? Kieran told me he has a tendency to stay up late.' 

'That's an understatement. He's nocturnal.' Tara lets out an annoyed groan in solidarity, but it just sounds cute coming from her. 'It's fine. I'm sure he's almost done. I mean, how much stuff can you fit into one of those units? You've seen mine, the one next door isn't much bigger.' 

'Must be a big change, considering you and Zayne were so close.' 

'We still are,' you tell her, 'we just see each other a little less now. I do miss him a lot.' She nods but her eyes have a little twinkle in them and you know where this is going. 'No, stop that. Zayne and I are just friends.' 

'Never even... you know,' she questions with a cheeky smile and a wiggle of her brow. 

'No, never,' you laugh, 'as I said, just friends. I don't know, he just feels like a brother. I mean, I've teased him before as a joke and nothing “physical” happened on his end. So I don't think he likes me either.' 

'He goes through an awful lot of effort to be “just friends,” just saying.' 

'Yeah, yeah, sure. You have a very filthy mind for the way you look.' 

'It's been said,' she responds with a gleaming smile. You lean back in your chair and cross your arms, looking her up and down. 

'About that.' Her body tenses up every so slightly. 'Your boyfriend is not what I expected at all. I mean, I've seen him pick you up before and he looks quite tough, but he seemed just as awkward as you are.' Tara's eyes flicker around the room a while, seemingly not wanting to explain anything to you, until her phone lights up. She quickly checks the notification and gasps with excitement. 

'Hold that thought, so Kieran just told me they're doing drinks to celebrate Sylus’ move. That means they must be done,' she states in a chipper tone. You raise an eyebrow at the strange change of topic. There's a freaky side to that woman, you're sure of it. 

'So?' 

'So, I'm dropping Kieran off so he can have some drinks but maybe we can have a girls' night,' she suggests. Considering Red Crow isn't posting anything today for once, your evening is completely open. Could be fun to have a quiet night in with Tara. 

'Sure, sounds fun. What are you thinking? Movie, face masks, board game?' 

'All of the above,' she squeals in excitement, 'I'll bring some snacks.' 

'Great, just let me know when you and Kieran are driving over.' 

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To be a good neighbor, you decided to get this Sylus guy a little something as a housewarming gift. Considering they'll be drinking; a bottle of whiskey can never go wrong. Lucky for you, you were gifted a bottle of whiskey a few weeks ago but you know that one is not quite your style. The Writer's Tears single pot still. It's a very nice whiskey and you've had different whiskeys from Writer's Tears before, but you're just not the biggest whiskey drinker. It's expensive too, so it might give a good impression. 

Tara just texted you she's on her way, which means you've got about fifteen minutes before she gets here. You considered waiting for her and Kieran to hand over the gift so it could be in the spirit of "oh, just dropping my friend's boyfriend off" but that’s just weird. Feels like you're a parent dropping your kid off at school and you're not about that. 

So now you're here, in front of the oh-so familiar door that you used to have a key to. Part of you is really curious how the place looks now, another part of you wants to keep the memory of how it used to be in a time capsule. Either way, you've got a present for your neighbor and this interaction could be done within a minute if you do it right. 

You press the doorbell and hear something fall followed by a string of curses. The door opens fast and the person on the other side, who you think is probably Sylus, towers over you. You look up at him with wide eyes and recognize him right away. That man right there is the reason for most of your pleasure and orgasms. Red Crow. 

'What,' he barks. Rude , and not at all what you would've expected. Still, it takes you a second to take all of him in. He’s even taller than you imagined, eyes even more piercing, face even sharper. It's like a fucking God leaning over you and staring down like you're no more than a puny peasant. 

And a switch flicks in your head. 

'Fix your tone,' you huff, 'I'm your neighbor. I thought I'd bring you a housewarming present.' His eyes widen ever so slightly. How you managed to muster up such a bratty tone in the face of who's talked you over the edge more times than you can count is a mystery to you, but it feels kind of nice to see him stunned like this. You hold out the box the whiskey is packaged in towards him. 

His shoulders relax and he does actually fix his face. His features soften a little and his eyes no longer stare at you like you're an intruder. Your heart starts racing, as if your body just now realizes who is in front of you. You beg to the Gods above that your cheeks don't get bright red. A cold shiver goes down your spine when he takes the box from you with a flicker of an amused smile, the box suddenly seeming much smaller in his hands. 'Thank you, that's nice.' 

'No worries. Tara told me you're having a party, so I thought that wouldn't hurt,' you say, trying to sound as casual as possible. He studies your face for a second, searching for the answers to a question he doesn't ask you. 

'You know Tara?' You nod. 

'She's my coworker.' Shit, your voice isn't as steady as it was at the start anymore. You've got this man on a fucking pedestal and he's here, in reach. It's a weird feeling. Your panties are soaked but you're highly put off by the way he greeted you. Still... there are very little appropriate thoughts going on in your head right now. If this was your last day on earth, you'd have this man bend you like a pretzel right here right now in the hallway. 

He nods, amused like a cat playing with its prey. 'Is that right?’ 

'Yes. Whelp, nice meeting you. I'm gonna go back to my place,' you ramble awkwardly and quickly turn to slip back into your own apartment, accidentally slamming the door. How the hell are you going to face Tara now? Your body is going into overdrive. You bet you could cum just hearing your vibrator turn on. However, you can't risk it. Tara has told you Kieran drives like a maniac and always drives if he's sober, which is now. She could be in front of your door any second. 

"Just breathe," you tell yourself, "it's just a man." Yeah, just a man, a man that could fuck you like there's no tomorrow. Shit, your thoughts aren't your friends right now. A cold shower ought to work. Hopefully. 

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The bottle of whiskey from his neighbor was put on display on his bar cart. He knows the kind and that type of whiskey isn't for parties. Not even small parties like this. He figures it might be a regift or something. No sane person would give a total stranger an expensive whiskey like this. Never mind a stranger who has been a disturbance from the start. 

Then again, they're not really strangers. He saw the look in her eyes. He's seen it before and hasn't been wrong about it yet. It's that "I've seen you naked" look. To be fair, Sylus would've preferred to stay anonymous in this building for a little longer but considering his neighbor is friends with Tara, she probably won't tell anyone what he does. That is, if she knows what her boyfriend Kieran does since he wears a mask in his content. 

But there was more in her eyes. More than just scandal or embarrassment. There was lust. A lot of it. So much so that Sylus feared he might've caused his pants to tent if she would've bit her lip. Best for both of them that she left when she did. 

He runs his hands through his hair in frustration. Normally, he's not one to obsess like this but there was just something about her. Something about how she looked at him, about the way she commanded him to fix his tone. It's been a long damn time since a woman showed that kind of dominance to him and, shit, it turns him on like crazy. 

Maybe, just maybe, he can rub one out real quick. He sits down on his bed and looks down at the bulge in his pants. He truly hopes he didn't look like that before. He hadn't seen her look at it. Besides, would that be so bad? It looked like she wanted him to take her right then and there, and he would have if she asked. Or demanded, he isn't picky. 

A devious thought pops up in his head. He promised his followers he'd record himself getting off if they begged and beg they did. Maybe he could tease her with this as well if she really does watch him. If it wasn't just a look of attraction and intimidation, but recognition. 

He whips out his phone, puts it on his dresser across from the bed pointed at his crotch and upper body with his thighs still visible. His face is just out of frame, not on purpose but he doesn't mind his followers not seeing how flustered one small interaction got him. Not that they'd ever know why, but she would. 

He sits down on the edge of the bed once more to check if everything's in frame when he hears it. The shower. Her shower. So, her bathroom and his are next to each other, which means their bedrooms are probably also next to each other.  

“Good to know,” he thinks to himself, and that's when he hears it. The softest, most muffled of moans coming through the air extractor fan followed by a string of whimpers. Those must be connected to each other. He feels his dick twitch against his pants like it's being chocked, his ears feel like they're burning while a wicked grin plays on his lips. 

And then he presses record. 

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[skipper1331]

Crash // Alessia Russo

Request: hey, could you please write some angst for alessia if possible.

a/n: hope u like it :))

warnings: car crash

"Where are you taking me?" Alessia grumbled with her arms crossed as she sat in the passengers seat, not amused by the fact that she sat in the passenger seat.

"You know, I don‘t like it when you drive" she added, her frown only deepening.

Playfully offended, you gasped, "are you saying I’m not a good driver?"

She turned to you, answering dead serious, "yes!" she crumbled under the glare she got in return, your raised eyebrow never a good sign "no" she mumbled, her fingers slowly interviewing with yours. "It‘s my job to drive you around, not the other way around" the striker continued to ramble about the situation while you just smiled to yourself.

Usually, Alessia was always sat behind the steering wheel, driving you to your destinations. And though, you were able to drive yourself (license in your wallet since years) the blonde insisted on driving you every time. She even drove you to appointments that didn't involve her, such as coffee dates with your friends or else. She loved driving and especially driving you around or you just seated in the passenger seat.

"But I’ve a surprise for you, so relax" you smiled, "you‘re even allowed to be dj" you grinned, the blonde always complaining that you wouldn’t even play one song of her choice.

"You‘ve got the passenger princess privileges, use them, love"

Alessia grumbled something before she connected her phone, her playlist starting to play. "You‘re lucky you‘re cute"

You had something really nice planned which she would definitely enjoy. Lately, everything has been stressful with your studies and all the exams that were coming up. And Lessi had shown nothing but love and support during this time, which is why you wanted to do something special as a thank you.

Everything was perfect so far, the blonde slowly accepting the fact that you sat behind the steering wheel instead of her, the conversation flowing easily as always until suddenly a car appeared out of nowhere, hitting your side with a force.

That’s the last thing you remember.

-

"Is she okay?" Alessia asked the medic with a raspy shaky voice, panic radiating of her body. She didn‘t know where you were. The ambulance left immediately with you, everything happening so fast. One second, she was telling you about the derby and in the other second, the car left the road and hit a tree.

"Ma‘am, you need to sit." The medic ordered as Alessia attempted to get up, hissing in pain. Her arm and shoulder hurt awfully, her face slightly bloody as it trickled down her forehead and nose.

"No! I need to know! She wasn‘t speaking, her eyes were closed! I- i don’t know"

The medics tried to calm her down the best they could, but it didn‘t help much.

After a short examination of her, the second ambulance left for the hospital.

-

In the hospital, Alessia went through several checks. Her arm was broken but thankfully it was a straight and simple fraction and nothing splintered. Her cuts were taken care of, only the large one on her forehead needing stitches. "You were very lucky" the doctor explained, also explaining the rest of her treatment and more. But Alessia couldn’t listen, all she could think about was you.

Are you alright? Are you alive? Where are you? What was happening?

"What about my wife? Is she alright? Please tell me she‘s alright" Alessia begged, tears streaming down her face.

-

Alessia sat next to your bed, holding your hand, praying that you would open your eyes. Just anything.

She sat there for hours, not leaving your side at all. Each time a nurse came in, the blonde wanted to know everything. What were they doing? What meant this sound or that? Are you getting better? Anything. The thought of you not waking up was terrifying her.

"Lessi, i think you should go for a walk. Grab a coffee and some fresh air" her mother ordered, sensing that her daughter was thinking too much, holding your hand tightly.

"I can’t" she replied, her eyes not leaving your face.

"Less, she‘s right. As soon as something happens, we‘ll tell you immediately. I promise" your mother joined the conversation now.

"Ok-ay" in trance she stood up, walking backwards to the door, her eyes not leaving yours until she was out of the room.

When Alessia came back, nothing had happened (she hadn‘t even been gone for 5 minutes) yet she was disappointed. This was her worst nightmare.

She wasn’t able to protect you.

You looked so vulnerable in the hospital bed, so fragile. It broke her heart.

In the evening, her mum and your mum said their good bye to the girl, promising to come back in the morning, Alessia still refusing to leave your side and to sleep at home. She couldn’t.

You needed her.

-

You woke up in a bright room, groaning in pain. Looking around, you saw Carol sitting on a chair, reading a magazine. "Hey, you’re up" the magazine was long forgotten as she was at your side, offering you some water.

"Less" you rasped. You fiddled with the duvet, memories flashing in front of your eyes.

Car.

Tree.

Blood.

Less.

"Stay" her mother ordered, already calling the nurse.

"Where‘s Lessi?" you cried in pain, scared and terrified.

"Love!" Alessia‘s eyes widened as she re-entered your room, only gone for a minute to use the bathroom. "You‘re awake" she was at your side in an instant, holding your hand and rapidly kissing it. The other hand trying her best to cradle your head with the cast, "how are you feeling?"

"I‘m so sorry" you cried, "your car" you sobbed.

"I don’t care about the car right now" she stated firmly, wiping away the tears.

"You love your Mercedes"

"I don’t care about that stupid car. You‘re awake!" her voice slightly raised by all the emotions she was feeling.

In that moment a nurse came in, checking all things before the doctor joined, explaining everything and the following steps.

Carol left after the medical team had gone out of the room, sensing that both of you needed a minute alone, calling your mother to let her know what the doctor said.

"I‘ll pay you back, i promise" you refused to look at her, ashamed that the one time you were driving of course something had to happen.

"Look at me, please" she pleaded, her voice breaking slightly. She hadn’t seen your open eyes in days and now you refused to look at her. She couldn’t handle it. The lack of you in the last few days had been awful for her and not knowing if you would ever wake up, had been more than terrifying. It was a feeling she wouldn’t want anybody to feel. This fear, the feeling of not being able to breathe, as if her chest was constricting with every movement. And then the thoughts. Mentally she couldn't find rest because she hoped, prayed and mourned. There were too many emotions at once and the strongest of them was the most unpredictable - love. What would you do out of love?

When you looked at her, you realized how scared she must have been the last few days.

"Please don‘t cry" you whispered as you saw the tears, the exhaustion on her face and her injuries, "i thought-" she hiccuped, all feelings bubbling to the surface.

"I love you, i don‘t care about the Mercedes, okay? All i care about is you and that you‘re alive. That‘s all that ever matters to me" her hands cupped your cheeks, crying even more.

"Come here" groaning in pain, you scooted to the side, "stop moving. what are you doing!" Lessi asked with wide eyes, panic in her expression.

"Come here, please" with the pout on your face, she just couldn’t say no. She needed this just as much as you did. You leaned against her, head resting on her shoulder as your hand held her shirt, seeking comfort in her touch.

"I‘m sorry for driving, i just wanted to do something special" you whispered, "i never wanted to get you hurt" you mumbled, scared, exhausted and still in pain after everything.

"No more of that. We can worry about everything later, right now i just need you close" she replied, her tightening her grip around you (not even to hurt you), slowly calming down.

You were alive.

You were in her arms.

You were alive.

She couldn’t care less about her car or about your surprise or literally anything else in this world.

All that mattered was you.

"I love you so so much."

Everything was going to be okay.

It was you and her against the world.

And she would support you on every step of the way of your recovery because that‘s what wives do. In sickness and in health just like she had promised.

Like the doctor said, "it‘s going to take its time but you‘ll fully recover" and that’s what Alessia held onto. Because sometimes the only thing that helps is hope. Alessia’s hopes and believes were stronger than her fears. Hope was stronger than any fear, especially when it came to the life of a loved one. Someone that was you. Someone who’s loved so deeply by Alessia and everyone around you. Your wife never gave up, never lost her hope and faith in you and your strength. Because if she had done so, she might had lost herself at the same time.

Love was unconditional and unpredictable - that‘s what made it special.

And Alessia truly did love you, more than anything in this world (and definitely more than her Mercedes)

[yolothh]

Viktor really meant the "in all timelines, in all possibilities" line BECAUSE IT'S OUR TIMELINE TOO! THEY EXISTED!

Please take a moment and let me introduce you to: Giacomo Leopardi and Antonio Ranieri's partnership.

Leopardi was an italian poet, author, philosopher and philologist. He is an important figure in Romantic literature (albeit, he did criticize the Romantic worldviews).

All throughout his life he suffered from a debilitating chronic illness (juvanile ankylosing spondylitis) that had him suffer horrendously from a young age, until it eventually took his life in 1837, when he was 39 years old.

He dedicated most of his life to studies, translating old tomes, writing poems and treaties diverting on humanity's degeneration from our glorious past to our suffering present. He exhorted modern folks to take action against the unjust present, aiming to a revolution of our pitiful condition.

In 1827 Leopardi meets Antonio Ranieri a young man that is described (verbatim) as a "very young and handsome in person and spirit".

Ranieri had been exiled from his city during his youth, because of his excessively liberal views in regards to politics.

The two become very close friends, but it's in 1830 that their "partnership" (literally, not making this up, Ranieri himself wrote a book about it if you care to check it out "Seven years of partnership with Giacomo Leopardi") starts. They move together from Firenze to Naples and Ranieri attends to Leopardi's every wish (noted that this man was a fanatic for sweets) paying with money from his own pocket.

Now, friendship at the time was different than what it is now, and they might’ve been very close friends, yes. But I'll give you some words from their letters and what Ranieri wrote down in his book and leave it to your judgment.

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

Ranieri, Naples, 1833:

"I- left my own bed- used to sleep in a room that was not mine (scandalous at the time) to sleep by his side"

Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, from when they got separated because Ranieri needed to tend to some family issues:

"My Ranieri, you will never abandon my side, nor will your love for me grow colder. I don't wish for you to sacrifice yourself for me. In fact, before anything else, I strongly wish for you to take care of yourself first: whatever you choose to do, you will do it so because we live for one another, or I know that I do for you; my last and only hope. Farewell, my soul. I keep you close to my heart, which in both possible and impossible occurrences, will forever be yours"

Leopardi, Florence, 1832-33, on someone making a joke out of Ranieri for staying by Leopardi's side:

" [...] Oh, my Ranieri! When will I get you back? I won't stop trambling until I'll recover this immeasurable love, until I know it's true. Farewell, my soul, with all my spirit's strength. Don't get bored of loving me"

And more:

"Ranieri of mine, I need not say that in every way you wish, I will be there with you (...). My resolution has been so for a great time now: that I will never be parted from you. Farewell"

In 1833, Ranieri sends a letter where he says he intends to set off to get Leopardi and go live together in Naples, to which Leopardi answers:

"My Ranieri, will this [letter] reach you in Naples still? I must warn you, I cannot live without you no longer, I'm overtaken by a morbid impatience to see you again, and that I am sure that if you will be late, I will die from the malencholy of not having you still. Farewell, Farewell"

Ranieri, on the landlady that took them in in Naples:

"She revealed this: that I had introduced a consumptive in the house: that, loving him so much as to stay up at night by his side, there could be no reason I could not do that as well in mine own house"

--

So now, take it as you will- because maybe I am way too much of a nerd about this stuff- but I can't read ANYTHING Leopardi and Ranieri related without seeing Viktor and Jayce. I will gladely add more in the future.

--

Addition! If you want to watch/read on them (but mostly Leopardi, which is a catch) I STRONGLY advice you:

Leopardi. Il poeta dell'infinito - I don't personally love it but if you want more on them, thats the place

Il giovane favoloso - AMAZING movie

Canti - by Leopardi, it is a collection of poems he wrote and I think it is absolutely useful to understand his marvelous mind and character

Sette anni di Sodalizio con Giacomo Leopardi - the one I mentioned before, written by Ranieri on his time with Leopardi

[astral-tracer]

Devil's advocate argument: I am very gullible (like legit did think this was real until I saw the reblogs, not mad about it just mentioning) and with how the US handles education about other countries' events, it was COMPLETELY BELIEVABLE to me that I had legitimately never heard of a skull-eating mushroom endemic to France.

Yes, in hindsight, it was really ridiculous of me. Again, I'm not upset about being fooled.

*However,* I think in *these specific cases* (where it is a completely original piece that is a 'realistic' horror artwork) it would be nice to have a parenthetical, or an art tag, or some indication that it is, in fact, not real. Especially because I am so brain fried all the time that I physically cannot handle fact checking every post that fools me for a second if it is not directly relevant to me.

Again, nothing wrong with OP presenting it how they want. However, it would have been nice for me to have the indication in the moment.

Dr. Heller inspects the skull of a victim of the 1806 Mycelium infections, an epidemic that decimated a village in the south of France. The fungus grew into the bone, creating ossified structures that broke out of the skin to spread spores.

[thewertsearch]

@typhoontroubadour asked: Lord English appearing OUT OF Doc Scratch sure is surprising the first time through! But, to be fair, we've known since the beginning that he's an excellent HOST ;) @askcharlierobinson asked: Scratch has said it before, but he is indeed an excellent host. HA HA HEE HEE HOO HOO @elkian asked: We can finally say that Scratch has been warning us all along - he's always been an excellent host. (Sidenote: check what Tavros uses when he plays Troll-kemon in his intro sequence.) @acappellacantabile asked: What is it that Doc Scratch always says, again? Oh, yes. "I am an excellent host." Suckers. Anonymous asked: THE CHORUS REPEATS IT, AS MY LEAL SERVANT DID: HE WAS AN EXCELLENT HOST. @ben-guy asked: I wouldn't be surprised if a few people have already pointed this out, but Doc Scratch repeatedly referred to himself as a Host. Consider the other definitions of that word, and the manner in which Lord English emerged from within him :]

I cannot get over this fucking pun. God.

@manorinthewoods asked: What an excellent host. Why do you think Callish is so green and skeletonny? ~LOSS (31/12/24)

I suppose the default answer is that English is the same species as the rest of the Felt. They are all time manipulators, so maybe he started his career as simply a particularly powerful member of their race - an overpowered mutant, perhaps, like Sollux or Equius.

The fact that the God Tier Clock is tied to his summoning makes me think he might be a Sburb Player. Now, if both of those things are true, then maybe his native Felt powers are synergizing with his Sburb-granted Aspect abilities, creating a monster greater than the sum of their parts.

That theory's completely off-the-cuff, but I like it. It's got legs!

[thepersonperson]

Sukuna’s Loneliness Part 5 (Sukuna Did Nothing Wrong in the Heian Era, Probably)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Some notes before we start.

1) Big content warning for in depth discussion of historical slavery and the exploitation of minority groups.

2) I will be mainly using the TCB scans for the manga because of their accessibility. 

3) Raws are from Mangareader(.)to.

(Click images for captions/citations.)

Preface

This is another case of me making everyone suffer the consequences of my fic research. I finally got my hands on 100+ page THESIS on the lives of the lower class in ancient Japan that references multiple peer-reviewed sources. This is my holy grail. Please read all of it. (Thank you Mr. Breann M Goosmann!) Whenever I quote something, I am quoting this source. Most of what I'm summarizing is directly from this source.

Gege may have failed to write a proper backstory for Sukuna, but one was clearly set up using the actual history of that time. So I'm here to infer what's in those gaps using this document.

The Class System in Ancient Japan

During the Heian Era (794–1185) a social caste system called Ritsuryō (you can read more about its application here). The upper class was called 良民 or Ryōmin (good people) and the lower class was called 賤民 Senmin (low people).

The kanji 民 (Min) used for both of these classes can be translated as citizen instead of person. The Wiki page I linked uses the citizen translation. I have decided to change that to people because of 3rd group of people excluded from this system: The 非人 or Hinin (non-people).

Ryōmin included court nobility, citizens, professions that served the court, and tradesmen.

Senmin included servants and slaves.

Hinin included criminals, the deformed/disabled, and those working professions considered "unclean."

The most notable thing about this class system is the mobility between Ryōmin and Senmin. Committing crimes, selling oneself into slavery, aging, paying off debts, and doing good work allowed people to rise or fall from the ranks accordingly. Hinin, however, were confined to their class for the most part because many were viewed as innately "unclean".

Ironically, the best way to understand how this class system functioned is to understand what being "unclean" meant to it.

Uncleanliness (Kegare)

穢れ (Kegare) is a term that can be translated as the following: uncleanliness, defilement, pollution, impure.

晴れ (Hare) is a term considered the opposite for Kegare and can be translated as the following: to clear up, clear skies/sunny, renew, dispel, sacred, pure.

Both of these terms largely inform of how ancient Japan functioned and evolved over time. And though not a black and white dichotomy, it can be generally understood that society was organized in a way to minimize Kegare.

What's interesting about Kegare specifically is its complexity and its impermanence. Rather than being something only bad people have, anyone could acquire and dispel it through the proper rituals.

From the Kojiki, a Shinto document compiled before the introduction of Buddhism, and therefore before the Heian, separates Kegare into 2 categories:

1) Touch Kegare: Defilement through the physical contact with something unclean such as bodily fluids and the dead.

2) Transgression Kegare: Defilement through sinful actions.

"These versions of pollution appear as transient, exorcised relatively simply through misogi (cleansing ritual), seclusion from society, or expulsion of disorder causing elements."

This understanding of Kegare then evolved with the introduction of Buddhism to Japan. (This began in the Nara Era and extended well into the Heian.)

"As Jacqueline Stone explains in her study of deathbed rites and rituals, someone who had become enlightened was considered to have a “pure” mind, while those with a deluded mind were said to have a “defiled” mind. Monastic Buddhists also followed their own codes of “pure” conduct such as refraining from the eating of meat and killing of animals."

The old Shinto understandings of Kegare still carried over with the physical avoidment of unclean things such as dead bodies and blood. However, Buddhism introduced the idea that certain groups of people were innately impure. This includes the Hinin who were uniquely ostracized by this system.

"Hinin, like all outcast groups were bound to their “defiled” status. However, unlike other outcasts, they were also cast as blasphemers of Buddhist doctrine afflicted with karmic illness."

But despite being seen as this innately impure, the religious institutions were closest to them. Of the few places in society willing to tolerate and deal with Kegare, they offered outcasts "positions" where they could beg, display themselves as what happens to people who don't follow religious doctrine, and help with jobs considered "unclean". Since outcasts were considered permanently defiled for the duration of that life, they could touch impure things such as the dead, the sick, and blood on behalf of those avoiding temporary Kegare.

This is exploitation point blank. And though this suggests outcasts had some agency when it came to their survival, it doesn't remove the systemic coercion driving their situation.

Please keep this in mind as I explain why Sukuna did nothing wrong.

Sukuna is Hinin

Though there is plenty of debate on what makes someone Hinin, the general consensus is the following:

"All agree that hinin were considered defiled by others in society and looked at with some contempt. One medieval reference book called the Chiribukuro explains that hinin and other outcast groups “are alike in that they are shunned by human society.”"

But when trying to define Hinin more narrowly, this is the result:

"the term hinin indicated a very specific group of social outcasts isolated from the community and cast aside due to disease or deformation. In his description of hinin, Nagahara explains that those referred to as “kojiki-hinin” were of the lowest social class, physically isolated from their families and communities and therefore excluded from society and economic activities in the medieval period."

Sounds like Sukuna, right?

Sukuna does not refer to himself as Hinin of course, but he does call himself 忌み子 (Imigo).

To quote myself from Part 1, Imigo can be translated as "Abominable Child", "Unwanted Child", or "Shunned Child." None of these translations in my opinion get across how severe Imigo is. It's closer to meaning "child who should've never been born". Like the child's very existence is an affront to god. (If you play Elden Ring the Omen are called Imigo in Japanese for this reason.)

And since we know that Sukuna is canonically a conjoined twin, aka someone with a visible deformity, this all indicates he was considered afflicted with a "karmic illness" that would classify him as Hinin.

This means that from birth, Sukuna was designated as fundamentally unclean and non-human. Within that society, there was no route he could take to remove himself from this uncleanliness and be seen as human.

The following views of Hinin were considered controversial for their time (during the Kamakura Era aka right after the Heian):

"Although Nichiren believed in the karmic nature of certain diseases, he also understood that this kind of disease was not a hindrance to salvation."

"Undoubtedly, Eison envisioned hinin as the physical representation of the Bodhisattva Monju and advocated that compassion and charity were the appropriate response to karmic illness."

And since these controversial views of *checks notes* considering Hinin worthy of compassion and salvation were documented after the Heian, I don't think it's unreasonable to assume Hinin had less advocates during the Heian.

In other words, Sukuna could not exist within human society without being shunned or exploited. The manga itself suggests this has always been the case.

As you can see Sukuna is absolutely miserable performing a ritual someone of this lower class would be responsible for overseeing. All while the people he is helping regard him with disgust. (By the way there is a purification ritual in Nara called Yamayaki that involves burning an entire mountainside. Something Sukuna's flames would be very good at.)

This is also from the same chapter where he's assaulted by Yorozu who assumes he's lonely because he's strong. She's wrong about this. Just like Kashimo who assumes Sukuna cares little for love for the same reasons he does.

Love from one person is worthless when compared to the nonstop ostracization that comes from institutional discrimination. At most, love can offer relief from that pain. It does not eliminate it. I'm saying this as a minority myself. I love my friends dearly and they love me as well, but I still wake up and go about my day with the soul-crushing knowledge that most wish for me to not exist.

Sukuna is not lonely because he's not loved. Uraume clearly does. It's that for circumstances beyond his control, he has been excluded from human society and forced to constantly be around people who exploit him for the very traits they scorn.

Sukuna pretty much confirms this himself when he talks to Mahito.

And you know what? Sukuna deciding to kill all the people exploiting him is completely justified. (Imo, he can even kill the non-sorcerers that discriminate against him as a treat.)

The Cannibalism was Justified too, for the most part.

Another thing to note about Sukuna. He was born starving and he died starving.

Famines and natural disaster were frequent and extremely hard on the commoner population during the Heian. The fact Sukuna was born starving indicates he was of lower birth to begin with since nobility hoarded the resources to avoid starvation for themselves.

One way for commoners dealt with famine was via foraging. We actually see Sukuna doing that when he meets Uraume.

Now there are several very interesting things we learn from this.

1) Sukuna hunts and eats elk/deer. Something massively taboo for the time. Especially since deer were considered sacred animals back then and even to this day.

2) He appears to wander around and owns very little. This is further in line with him being Hinin per the following:

"Clearly, welcome could be revoked at any time, which meant that hinin had to be prepared to leave any location at any given moment. This mobile lifestyle also meant that hinin could only afford to carry essential daily items, such as cooking utensils and begging bowls. The image also reveals that the hinin were never officially invited to stay in that particular area. Instead, they sought out their own locations to set up communities."

3) Despite Uraume being alive and fresh human meat, Sukuna does not immediately see them as food. Nor does he attack them. This, combined with him not taking the dead villagers for eating and preparing deer/elk instead, suggests that cannibalism is not the default for him.

Back to famines, it's also not unheard of for people to resort to cannibalism during them. The logic is simple: An outcast with no support network eats humans to survive.

And given the frequency of death from natural disasters of this time, there’s a real chance he never had to hunt humans in the first place. As Hinin, handling the dead is one of the few jobs he’s allowed to do. So it’s possible the worst thing he did was desecrate corpses in the name of scavenging.

Furthermore, if Sukuna is considered a non-human, is it even cannibalism to begin with? Is a hungry animal evil for eating a human?

I may consider Sukuna human because I refuse to partake in his dehumanization, but it needs to be understood that in the context of the JJK's story, there is not a single character that refers to Sukuna as a human. He's not even referred to as a man. He's either a curse, a monster, or at the very end, a sorcerer. Sukuna has been so dehumanized by others that he himself identifies as a "curse". This is also separate from "cursed spirit", leaving him in his own unique category of non-human.

Sukuna may not see eating other people as acts of cannibalism. After all, they are the ones who decided he was non-human at birth. (And since he is taboo, eating the deer/elk can’t make him more taboo than he already is.)

The following is an excerpt discussing the dehumanization of the starving:

"This strange image is from the Scroll of Hungry Ghosts and the huge emaciated creature depicted is just one of many of the numerous depictions of hungry ghosts or gaki. Invisible to humans, the gaki depicted are the spirits of greedy or jealous individuals karmically punished for their covetous thoughts with perpetual hunger for bodily excretions such as urine or feces."

"The protrusions of the stomach, the red-tinted hair, as well as the greying of the skin, are all genuine symptoms of starvation. In this light, our image appears significantly different. Instead of an invisible monster attacking a man, we have a disfigured and suffering human reaching out for humanity."

The phenomenon of hair during red or blond from starvation is called Kwashiorkor. Gege may be color blind, but Sukuna being depicted with pink or blond hair appears to be deliberate and in line with Kwashiorkor.

Sukuna was probably framed.

The only crimes Sukuna is accused of by Jujutsu Society is murder and cannibalism. As demonstrated by the previous section, there could be a pretty good reason for the cannibalism. But what about the murder?

Another thing that should be noted about Sukuna is how his destruction is largely retaliatory in the modern era. Every kill or kill attempt is made as a response to a challenge that was directed at him first.

When Sukuna first incarnates, Megumi says this to him:

Yuji may be Megumi's target, but remember that Kegare spreads through touch. Sukuna coming into contact with Yuji has made them both unclean. In other words, Sukuna has been informed that in this life, 1,000 years later, where he has yet to do any harm (Those comments about the women, children, and massacre are still sus, but they could've been about the Merger.), he will be attacked by sorcerers no matter what. It's not unreasonable for him to then attack them on sight.

But even when he does that, most of them survive until Shinjuku. During the culling games, Sukuna kills only 2 sorcerers—Ryu and Yorozu. Ryu is given a chance to walk away, but he doesn't. Uro flees and is spared. Yorozu is the sole person Sukuna seeks out to kill and that’s just for his Gojo plans.

And in that month Sukuna has before the showdown with Gojo? Nothing happens. He kills no one and just lounges around. Eating his own corpse is the only cannibalism. He absolutely could have eaten Tsumiki’s body to further crush Megumi’s soul, but he doesn’t.

Then when it comes to the actual showdown, Sukuna kills 3 sorcerers total. It's also very telling that after Sukuna is dead...no one blames him for what happened. They blame Kenjaku, hell even Gojo, but Sukuna isn't mentioned once. Higuruma is convinced that Sukuna was playing around. Kusakabe agrees that Sukuna’s manner of play isn't what they’re super worried about, it's Kenjaku.

The worst thing Sukuna does is Shibuya and that too has nuance to it. The twins aren't killed for fun. Sukuna punishes them for making demands of him. The citizens of Shibuya? Collateral from dealing with Jogo and Mahoraga. (He only really kills Haruta for the sake of it. And let's be real, he deserved that.)

And though the Shibuya civilian deaths are an objectively bad thing Sukuna has done, the fact they are not intentional gives credence to the idea that Sukuna didn't really target them in the past either. This suggests that the "murders" Sukuna did in the Heian were likely retaliation against people challenging him or trying to subjugate him. In other words, self defense.

And if he did wipe out a village, it was probably collateral. But that's kind of the thing. Did Sukuna even kill innocents by accident? The only confirmed kills of the Heian are those of the Subjugation and Military Squads. You know, people who may have attacked him for simply being "unclean".

Who am I kidding he absolutely was attacked for being “unclean”. This is how Angel talks about Sukuna and the incarnated.

She doesn’t care about saving the lives of innocents, all that matters to her are things that she deems evil are purged. Sukuna to Angel is ontologically evil and doesn’t deserve to exist. She targets him more than other incarnated players while ignoring Kenjaku who is responsible for this mess in the first place. She also quite literally did something she deemed wrong and evil so she could follow him into the future and make sure he died. (Move over Gojo Satoru we've got a new minority hunter.)

But it’s not like her attitude is new. Jujutsu Society is notorious for trying to kill things they deem "bad" such as Yuji and Yuta. The striking thing about the wanted executions of these literal children is that the higher ups giving the command make other sorcerers do it for them. Going back to the ideas of Kegare—spilling blood and touching corpses makes one impure so the outcasts are to deal with it. This is the logic driving their decision to coerce Yuta into a binding vow to kill Yuji.

("No matter how many cursed spirits you kill, it's proof of nothing!" <Please take note of how Yuta's good deeds do nothing to earn the higher ups' favor because he's seen as inherently evil.)

Yuta is essentially scapegoated through this manipulation and Yuji initially treats him like an enemy. In the same way characters like Kusakabe blame Gojo for refusing to execute Yuji. Despite the higher ups being responsible for the system functioning this way, the people they’re manipulating bear the brunt of responsibility to other characters.

Who's to say Sukuna isn't also a victim of this scapegoating? His power is comparable to a natural disaster. It would be very easy to blame one on him. After all, the higher ups of the Heian, the Fujiwaras, did exactly that to Uro.

Uro’s situation is much worse than Yuta’s however. She is a military slave. This distinction of military slave is important because unlike domestic slaves, they were allowed to rise through the ranks and be given awards despite their status.

And since Uro is a Sukuna parallel, there is a pretty good chance he was a slave at some point during the Heian.

Slavery in the Heian

A little detail I left out when discussing famine in the Heian. The asymmetrical wealth distribution was so severe during this time that commoners would sell themselves into slavery in hopes of not starving to death.

An example from the Kamakura Era (after the Heian):

"As the article shows, during the three years of the Kangi famine (1229-1232) and several recovery years following, various common people sold themselves, their relatives, and their retainers into slavery in exchange for sustenance. Not only would an amount be given to the seller, but also presumably whoever now owned the sold individual would be responsible for feeding and providing shelter for that individual. In this way, the common populations of Japan created a strategy for survival. There was no certainty that a new owner would fulfill this obligation, but the promise of reprieve from daily struggles was impetus enough for the sale."

Another example from the same era:

"A didactic tale from 1283 tells the story of a small family consisting of a mother and son, who after experiencing severe famine, came to the realization they would soon starve to death. In the hope of saving his mother, the young boy offers to sell himself into bondage, and although the mother disagrees, he goes ahead with the plan."

Yes this is as bad as it sounds, but there is one thing I would like to get out of the way—this slave system did not function anything like the chattel slavery during colonialism. Strangely enough, these slaves had some rights they could fight their owners in court over. They could pay off debts and be set free. They were allowed to be married and have children with those outside of their class. They were not kept in cages or in chains like animals. (Silver linings! /s)

The term used for these slaves was 奴婢 (Nuhi) which roughly translates to “bonded person”. This is more in the contractual sense rather than the physical sense since most were slaves by contract or debt.

This kind of sounds like something binding vows could do, right? Well binding vows share no kanji with Nuhi using 縛り(Shibari) instead. However, Sukuna introduces the concept of binding vows with chains and a handshake.

Sukuna was also born unwanted to a starving mother during a time when starving people sold themselves or their relatives into slavery to survive. This can mean a lot of things for his upbringing and none of them are pleasant.

Here is a summary of what jobs Nuhi did:

"As stated previously, wealthy households frequently obtained slaves and assigned them to various domestic tasks. However, sources further illuminate trafficking of women into the sex trade of Kamakura Japan."

If you noticed, Sukuna's Cursed Technique is perfect for this. He can chop up veggies, butcher fish, till farmland, slash and burn farmland, light fires, and every other non-violent thing a knife and fire can be used for. If he wasn't exploited for exorcising curses, he absolutely would've been exploited for domestic tasks.

And to get to much more depressing line of work Sukuna could've been subjected to as a child, I'd like to discuss why someone as masculine as him would be associated with women's work in the first place.

The Treatment of Women in Ancient Japan

"In Japan prior to the Heian and Kamakura periods, women played prominent roles in religious activities as miko, which was akin to a female medium or female shaman...Since miko functioned as a sacred and integral part in religious communities, issues of impurity did not appear to be an issue. Instead, it was Buddhist ideas that linked the female form to impurity."

With the introduction of Buddhism, women began to be seen as innately impure due to the blood and fluids associated with childbirth and mensuration.

"In the Heian period, Buddhist temples such as such as Enryakuji and Tōdaiji, began barring women from entering the premises due to their defiled nature."

"prominent Buddhist discourse painted women as innately defiled and therefore unable to achieve enlightenment in their own female bodies."

"To be born as an innately defiled female was considered a karmic punishment for past actions."

Though not ostracized as much as outcasts, women were seen as innately unclean in a similar vein to Sukuna. Women were expelled from religious institutions but not the courts, while outcasts were tolerated by religious institutions and barred from the courts. (The courts and temples operated independently of each other, which is why it was possible for noble women to hold power despite being designated as unclean.)

A few months ago I made a joke about this panel:

"Sukuna’s two options were helping Uraume transition or becoming a girl himself."

This is still mostly a joke, but I do think Sukuna identifies more with women than with men. Not that Sukuna is a girl, but that he relates to them and their struggles better. (Keep in mind he does wear a women's yukata and a men's obi at the same time as Yujikuna.)

It's important to note is that this mystery woman here wears the clothes of a Miko or Shrine Maiden/Priestess—the main group of women that was displaced and persecuted because of the new religious doctrine. And like every other group without a proper social safety net, selling themselves into slavery became a survival strategy. They did have other options of course. In the case of Asobi, the Priestess that used to serve the courts, turned to entertainment and sex work after their exclusion.

"Either riding in boats or setting up shop on busy routes to the capital and religious sites, Goodwin argues that these performers were part of independent, possibly female-run organizations, which were not stigmatized until the later part of the Kamakura period. However, as Wakita Haruko has examined, at least some women involved in sexual entertainment were female indentured servants, serving as security on a loan issued by their parents."

In this way, the exact identity of the Miko in Sukuna's path may not matter. She might be a representation of those who accepted their exclusion and did their best to survive on society's terms. If the South choice is meant to represent returning to who Sukuna used to be, then it can also mean the types of struggles Mikos faced are his as well.

However, there was a temple that continued to accept women as followers—the Muroji Temple in Nara. Interestingly enough, this temple contains an inner sanctuary devoted to the founder of Shingon Buddhism, the type of Buddhism Tengen brought over. The mountain this temple is located on is also associated with a dragon spirit. Since there is historical precedent of at least one temple accepting a group of people seen as innately impure, a place like this may have also been a sanctuary for Sukuna.

With the information we have, it's not really possible to know exactly what awful thing happened to Sukuna. The most important takeaway from this is that the suffering he experienced was systemic. He didn't get unlucky with a few ignorant and bad people. This was the direct result of the Heian class system dehumanizing people. In other words, his choices were severely limited.

Sukuna's Other Choice

Going North with Uraume appears to be very similar what he did back in the Heian—taking in an abandoned child and looking after them. What makes this choice slightly different this time around is that the class system that oppressed him no longer exists in the modern era. Yes, he’ll absolutely face discrimination for being deformed, but the complete denial of his humanity at every turn for his appearance is gone. He won’t be treated as untouchable and inherently evil. Legally speaking, he has drastically more rights. Violence won’t be his only option moving up in the world.

I will always loathe that Sukuna had to die to obtain this. And that the “reformed” modern Jujutsu Society refuses to acknowledge the systemic failures of their institution. Kusakabe makes it very clear he still believes the immediate extermination of anything deemed “evil” is a valid way to go about things, even if it means the death of a child…as long as he doesn’t have to do it. (Hence him blaming Gojo for it, just like the higher ups.) After the fight, everyone passes blame around, absolves themselves of any wrongdoing, and decides no one is really at fault.

There were people at fault for this. There are institutions at fault for this. But their failure to confront those things directly is probably why Sukuna rejected Yuji’s offer so viciously. Instead of trying to understand Sukuna on his own terms, Yuji showed him the value of a simple life he was never allowed to have, then told him to die or go back into the cage.

Yuji offered Sukuna pity but no autonomy, which is exactly the way Hinin were treated by the religious institutions of old.

"However, Hosokawa argues that even in veneration of hinin as representations of Manjusri, Buddhist monks continue to discriminate against this outcast group and further perpetuate their low position in society. Hosokawa explains that although activity involved in charitable works towards hinin, Eison cared little about the salvation of hinin because he saw outcasts as divine only within the context of the ritual of assembly. Therefore, all charitable works directed at hinin were merely ceremonial. Hosokawa advocates the view that Eison believed hinin lacked ‘nature,’ meaning they were unable to study or practice Buddhism. Essentially, without nature, they had no ability to escape the cycle of re-birth through the study of Buddhism."

Sukuna even thinks of modern sorcerers like the ones of old. Why would he ever want to return to that?

His goals are simple; eat, play, and pass time until his dies. That’s not really evil now is it? But the people attacking him don’t know that. None of them ever stopped to asked because they assume him existing freely will bring evil.

But what does Sukuna do when he’s given a month-long truce a body he completely controls? He does what every minority group does when they are no longer being actively oppresed—he rests. He doesn’t go around killing or tormenting for fun. With his newfound freedom he secludes himself and lounges.

The fight in Shinjuku is essentially a group of well-meaning people from a corrupt institution beating an outcast that was ostracized by it into submission. Albeit for very good reasons.

Why did this fight change his mind?

If Sukuna is basically reliving past trauma via the Shinjuku fight, why did he decide this group of sorcerers was worth listening to? The simple answer of course is he lost to them. Sukuna believes the strong impose their will and the weak follow suit.

I don’t think that’s quite right. Sukuna used to be weak too. He was a child once. He used to controlled by others stronger than him. By his own logic he should’ve stayed like that, but he trained to get stronger and eventually rebelled.

Since Sukuna is a known liar and hides his feelings under several layers of repression, I’m inclined to believe this statement is also smokescreen. And after reading the Uraume Epilogue I am certain of this. But for now let’s revisit the Shinjuku fight, starting from the battle that made me realize Sukuna is indeed a pathetic sopping wet cat underneath it all—Sukuna vs Gojo.

Sukuna vs Gojo

Something fans picked up on during this fight was how Gojo dogwalked Sukuna when it came to Hand to Hand (H2H) combat. During their fight, Sukuna fails to land a single punch on Gojo’s face. It takes Yuta possessing Gojo’s body and fumbling around in it for Sukuna to finally punch that face. But it’s not just Gojo he sucks at with H2H combat. It’s everyone. Here is a compilation of Sukuna getting hit in the head or face.

This seems to conflict with Sukuna’s ability to learn anything visually. He sees someone do something and he can copy it immediately. This contradiction can be explained by him being Hinin.

Sukuna was considered an untouchable. Educated people were of a higher class and believed unclean things like him were to be avoided at all costs. This means that whatever education Sukuna obtained for himself was always at a distance. Aka watch and copy. And since H2H is mostly taught through body to body contact, Sukuna wasn’t allowed a proper sparing partner outside of the attempts to kill him.

In Part 2, I go over Sukuna’s fraud allegations for his copying of Gojo in particular. This is what lead me to realize that Sukuna spent 6 months plotting to kill a guy he met for 10 seconds. This insane level of pre-planning is also shaped by him being Hinin.

We know for a fact that Sukuna hunts deer/elk and that it’s safe to assume he driven to this because of his Hinin status. If you know anything about hunting, it’s that most of it is playing psychological mind games with creatures that are somehow complete geniuses despite having 2 brain cells. You don’t chase after a deer with a gun, you become obsessed with them. You study every little habit of theirs; when they hunger, what they eat, and where they defecate. Using this information, you set up the bait and wait in hiding for the perfect opportunity to kill them.

This is pretty much what Sukuna does to Gojo. He’s got a hunter’s obsession with him. In Part 4, I explain how this obsession might actually be unhinged courtship, but I don’t lay out why Gojo of all people seemingly means this much to Sukuna. This too can be explained by him being Hinin.

I’ve said it over and over, Gojo and Sukuna are twin flames. They are the strongest, isolated, dehumanized, exploited, self-taught, and really bad at showing affection. Part of this obsession is driven by Sukuna seeing himself in Gojo. He's being ordered around by others weaker than him in the same way Sukuna used to be.

But take note of this “I owe you a debt.” It’s easy to assume he means payback for punching him in the face. However…Gojo did actually do Sukuna a massive favor. He suspended his execution, even if it was primarily to save Yuji.

As I discussed before, Kegare was infectious. You touch something unclean and you become unclean yourself. By laws of Jujutsu Society and by social stigma around Kegare, Sukuna made Yuji equally as impure as himself. And Gojo went screw that, I’m going to look after you. He gave Yuji direct lessons, made sure all his basic needs were met, and treated him like a human. Behind everyone’s backs he hid the final finger, intending to let Yuji live for the duration of his natural life.

To Sukuna, Gojo is someone who would have taken him in and advocated for his humanity under different circumstances. Gojo is someone Sukuna would’ve loved to have as a teacher. And so he copies him. He learns and improves his own sorcery as if Gojo had intentionally taught him.

Through the Shinjuku fight, his experiences within Yuji, and Megumi’s memories, Sukuna gets a taste of what could’ve been. With Megumi in particular, he also gets to see what it’s like to be raised by someone who actually cares. Though not intentional, this is how Gojo teaches Sukuna love. This is why when Sukuna looks at Gojo, he thinks about love.

Sukuna choosing to go with Uraume is him copying Gojo one last time. After seeing that even if you’re isolated, exploited, and miserable, there’s still fulfillment in using your power to make sure someone else doesn’t go through what you did. It may not remove all that pain, but it makes it easier.

And bringing back Kegare’s opposite Hare (晴れ). The kanji used are in the Appare Da (天晴れだ) when Sukuna tells Gojo, “You cleared my skies.” (The Da at the end of this statement means it was pretty heartfelt too.) With this additional context, I think it can be taken to also mean that Gojo made Sukuna feel like he wasn’t impure.

Sukuna vs Yuji

Yuji and Megumi are the ones who ultimately make Sukuna realize that it's worth pursing guardianship regardless of marital status or blood relation. They are the two of Gojo’s students/children that are directly compared to Uraume.

Yuji who is also the same as Sukuna, fills the role of Gojo when he first chooses to look after Megumi. When he prevents Megumi from being sold by his father. Sukuna has seen both versions of this memory.

Since Sukuna is a twin to Wasuke and they are also the same, JJK 265 is Yuji showing Sukuna an entire alternate universe of the normal life he could've lived if he had been seen as human.

And even if he can’t ever be seen as human or live normally, Megumi tells him it’s ok to be improper and cherish someone anyways.

None of these 3 realize how greatly they’ve affected Sukuna. He barely admits to it even in death. But Sukuna had secretly wanted this from the start. The cracks started showing when he first tried to teach Megumi in his special little tsundere shark way.

There's also something to be said about Uraume making it to adulthood in a time where famine was rampant and parents would sell their children into slavery just to eat. Their cursed technique manifested around the age of 6, just like Megumi. The fact they survived means Sukuna was already doing a pretty good job as their guardian.

Other Things this Changes

I'm also looking at Sukuna's fondness towards Jogo in a whole new light. I thought that Jogo wanting nothing of him was the main reason he was favored. But there's more to it that that. It’s that he regards Sukuna’s life as inherently valuable. Jogo believes in a world where Sukuna has the right to exist as he is and how he wants. No one will try to control him or condemn him for something he had no say in.

He also stands out in his devotion to curses of any background. Mahito basically looks like a human, Choso and his brothers are half human, Sukuna is fully human, and Jogo accepts them all no questions asked. He’s willing to fight for people who exist differently than himself.

There's also that added “wanting to be seen as human” element. Jogo’s world is one where Sukuna would finally be seen as human. It’s the same logic that drove Choso to side with the Disaster Curses. He knew how difficult human society would make the lives of his brothers (both of which have 2 faces like conjoined twins), so he chose to fight for a world where that kind of discrimination no longer existed. (Which is why it's really sad he died and no one mourned him properly.)

And yes we can condemn the mass slaughter of humans as the wrong way to go about this. But the core problem is that Jujutsu Society branded them as taboo and in need of extermination or containment. They were driven into a corner and believed violence was the only way out. The only reason Choso was able to change was other sorcerers giving him a chance despite the hurt he caused. Something Sukuna didn't get outside of the offer to be caged.

Am I being too lenient with Sukuna here?

Absolutely. I am extremely biased.

To me at least, the type of "evil" Sukuna is has a lot nuance. It is very significant that someone as strong as him, who could basically do whatever he wanted (theoretically), took one willing servant in a time where slavery was widely practiced. (If you read the linked document, it's kind of up for debate how legal slavery was at the time.) It's also significant that the Heian crimes he was accused of were limited to cannibalism and murder. He's clearly got rules about his evilness and I really like that about him. I wanted to find the logic driving them and I think I've finally struck gold.

This didn't fit anywhere nicely. But consider the following:

"Earthly sins, on the other hand, were those that only affected individuals or forbidden actions, such as rape or cutting living flesh."

Sukuna's CT cuts living flesh. His very CT was considered impure in the Heian. The flames however, are more aligned with purification. It's just a neat little thing that shows Sukuna's duality imo.

He's also really good at archery. And though this is likely because his flame CT is a bow, he probably got good at it to hunt deer/elk on top of temple duties. (Just another way he enjoys corrupting the divine.)

But please remember, the only reason I've done all of this is because of Umineko's...

Without love, it cannot be seen.

[damnfeelings09]

The way I loved you - Shadow's version

*A.N: sorry, I got lost reading some ff

"He is sensible and so incredible And all my single friends are jealous."

"Look at these beautiful flowers!" said Amy. "You have to tell me your secret, Sonic isn't the most romantic guy, ya' know" You were sitting in the living room of your apartment; it was small but cozy. There were plants in every corner, and despite the little time you had to settle in, you felt comfortable in this new house.

"And it's like, I couldn't ask for anything better," you said with a shy smile.

"That's fabulous! I'm so happy you gave yourself this chance... you know, since..."

"I know, I feel good, but I want to take it slow."

"And I feel perfectly fine."

When Amy left, you let yourself fall back onto your bed, in fact you didn't really feel fine. You missed him, you missed every moment. You couldn't blame Amy, you were too good at hiding your feelings. Only someone who knew you perfectly would notice you weren’t... happy. Actually, you didn't feel anything at all.

"... And it's 2 a.m., and I'm cursing your name. So in love that you act insane, and that's the way I loved you."

Every night, just before closing your eyes to sleep, you could feel his breath, his presence hadn't left you for a second in the last three months. Even though you didn't see him anymore, it was as if his memory was buried in your mind, like his image was tattooed on your heart, a mark you couldn't erase, one you didn’t want to erase. It hadn't been long since you met Dylan. He was actually nice, you'd bumped into him at the cafeteria, and he accidentally spilled your latte. After a thousand apologies, he offered to buy you a new one. You’d been hanging out three times, counting today, but when you told your friends about it, they were more than happy to see you back in the game.

"He respects my space, and never makes me wait, and he calls exactly when he says he will."

You checked your latest messages. Dylan had written "Goodnight and have fun, beautiful," after you mentioned you wouldn’t see him and would instead spend time with the girls.

"He's charming and endearing, and I'm comfortable."

"I'm comfortable," you said aloud, but when you were alone, hundreds of memories haunted you. Memories of when you had been so happy, loved like you never thought possible, cried, and suffered, but you did it all by his side. There he was again, always occupying your thoughts. At 2 p.m., when you had lunch, and again at 2 a.m., when you woke up startled by nightmares where you lost him over and over. You turned your phone back on, scrolling down to the bottom of your messages, and found his conversation. You read again the last message he had sent you: "I'll be late," with the date on the day you decided to move on with your life without him.

"He caused all of this. So… why do I feel like this?" you thought. You couldn't stop looking at the screen, hoping, wishing there was something more, that he had done something more. Suddenly, his status changed, he was online, and dots began to appear on the screen. He was typing. After three months of silence, he had finally reached out to you… your heart raced so fast you felt like it would burst out of your chest. The excitement, anxiety, fear, and anger were trying to take control of your body all at once. But when the dots disappeared, and his status went offline again, everything collapsed.

"Breaking down and coming undone, it's a rollercoaster kind of rush. And I never knew I could feel that much, and that's the way I loved you."

The next morning, you bumped into Dylan on your way to work. You talked about the weather, your outing with the girls, and his job. Dylan loved his job as an IT agent for GUN and loved to talk endlessly, something you weren’t used to. You limited yourself to nodding and smiling while he told you about the latest update he'd made to the criminal profiles platform at GUN.

"He can´t see the smile I'm faking and my heart's not breaking 'cause I'm not feeling anything at all."

As you walked through the GUN facilities and passed by the training center, memories flooded your mind. This time, you both had fought, but you didn't quite remember why...

You walked out of the training center, both fists clenched until your claws dug into your palms. You were upset, he hadn't respected the agreement to let you work, and his only defense had been, "You're not strong enough for this task, sorry." Once again, underestimating your abilities, even though, thanks to your effort, the last two missions you'd worked on together had gone wonderfully, and your colleagues praised your persistence. Of course, he was the team captain, and you didn’t expect different treatment just because you were his girlfriend; you simply expected him to start noticing your potential.

"And you were wild and crazy. Just so frustrating, intoxicating, complicated. Got away by some mistake and now..."

"Stupid hedgehog," you muttered under your breath as the raindrops began to soak your body. The wind soon picked up, and what started as a small breeze had turned into a storm. You had to turn back, or you'd end up sick, and they'd send you home. Just as you were about to go back, you heard someone calling your name. It was him, standing a few meters away, his dark fur soaked, and every quill dripping. His chest fur, once fluffy, now seemed flat due to the water.

"If you're here to scold me again, keep it to yourself. I was about to go back." In a second, the hedgehog was right in front of you.

"I'm sorry," you heard him murmur. "Don’t disappear like that again." Something in his voice made your wall of anger break. There, in the rain, with his face drenched and his red eyes, now dimmed, just inches from yours, made him look so... vulnerable. "No… I didn’t mean that you can’t do it, it’s just that… thinking of you, alone, out there… no, no..." he stammered, looking away. You had never seen him like this. You were so used to his strong, disciplined personality. Worry was not a word you associated with him, but now you realized he was worried about you.

"Hey," you said, gently caressing his face. "It's okay, I’m here, and I’ll be fine because I’ll have the best captain to guide me" you smiled at him.

"The best captain?" he asked, his crimson eyes regaining their sparkle as he raised an eyebrow.

"Of course! Sonic doesn’t do things as badly as you think, and... we have you too," you joked, earning a snort from him. You smiled as he closed the distance between you, pulling you into an embrace. The surprise was evident in your eyes. You knew he hated public displays of affection, especially at work. He didn't want people thinking there was favoritism towards you. He tightened his embrace as he felt your body shivering because of the cold, moving his face close to yours placing a soft kiss that contained everything he couldn't express.

"I miss screaming and fighting and kissing in the rain and It's 2 a.m., and I'm cursing your name. I'm so in love that I acted insane, and that's the way I loved you."

"Hey! Moon!" someone called, snapping you out of your thoughts. As you returned to the present, you found yourself staring at the training center. Dylan had his hand in front of your face, trying to get your attention. "Where did you go?"

"Ah... it's nothing," you said, scratching the back of your head, your cheeks still flushed from the memory. "See you later, Dylan." You walked towards the main offices, trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone else and trying to avoid running into him. When you reached the elevator, you heard a ring—a new notification. You quickly pulled out your phone and found a message. It was a simple interaction, just 3 words put together, but it was enoght to make your heart begin to beat again, as if waking up from a deep sleep.

Shadow: Hey

"Never knew I could feel that much and that's the way I loved you."

[booksinstacks]

I was thinking of deleting social media anyway, but the news about Mark Zuckerberg getting rid of fact-checking was the push I needed to delete Instagram at last. I deleted Tiktok as well because I waste too much time on it. Tumblr, my beloved, never leave me. The only social media I have left. (I've been off Facebook and Twitter for a while.)

twitter is owned by a tech bro supervillain, facebook is getting rid of FACT checking bc it’s “biased” and moving all moderators to texas, tik tok is getting banned (I’ll b using a vpn but still), insta is owned by the dude getting rid of fact checking……but tumblr? good old tumblr? here she remains, vastly unchanged but for the few updates we usually bully staff into undoing. a true stronghold of democracy and free speech. waiting for those who abandoned her to come crawling back. bc yah. we’re still here

[yeahspider]

luther ❄️

Spider’s note - SO ITS MY BIRTHDAYYYYYYYY (finally 21 woohoo!) and i made this as a lil gift to myself . also first post of the new year are we excited ? ot8!skz x reader . just a fluffy piece of self indulgence ive decided to share . thx for enjoying ! stay happy and healthy <33

Counting the amount of candles in the cake Chan was starting to realize this was a bad idea. With so many candles, 21 to be exact, and a small cake, this was a recipe for disaster. Or at the very least a fire hazard. This reminded him he needed to check the batteries in the smoke alarm soon.

“Why does nobody in this house have a lighter?” asked a very frustrated Seungmin. Poor boy has been searching the apartment from top to bottom for ten minutes. Yet no lighter has been found

“did you try Hyunjin’s room? He has incense so he must have a way to light it,” suggested Han from his spot on the couch. Felix banned him from the kitchen after failing to help with the cake. Preferring to lick the frosting and sneak sprinkles into his mouth.

“they’ll be back from the mall any second now.” minho voiced after checking your location. Jeongin and Hyunjin have taken you on a mini shopping spree. To give the boys more time to set up and to appease their need to spoil you, seldom letting them.

Keys at the door sent the whole house into a frenzy. You weren’t supposed to return yet. Nothing was in place. Ballons still need to be blown, streamers need to be hung.

“is the cake done yet?” Changbin asked stepping into the house. Oblivious to the panic his arrival caused moments prior. Causing a collective groan to be heard from the house members . “so I’ll take that as a no then.”

“found it !” Seungmin shouted . just as Felix put the final candle in place.

“Are you guys sure they’re gonna like it?” Felix asked, letting his insecurity seep into his voice. Everything had to be perfect for you in his mind. He wouldn’t settle for anything less.

“it’s pink with sparkles I’m sure they’ll like it just fine,” Seungmin stated. Not before receiving a glare from Chan. Although he didn’t understand why. Nothing he said wasn’t true. You did like pink and sparkles.

“It’s perfect lix they’ll love it.” Chan comforted. Causing Felix to smile and clap his hands in excitement.

With the familiar sound of your keys at the door the boys ran into places as the trio returned.

You stumbled into the darkness. Confused as to why it was like that. The boys were home when you left and you all had the day off. Were they called into work? Sadness seeps into you at the thought of all your boys not being together for your birthday.

You feel Hyunjin put a hand on your back.

“turn on the lights love” he whispers in your ear.

With a flick light floods the room. Standing in front of you are all your boys with the prettiest cake you’ve ever seen.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” they all shout in unison. Lightly laughing at your shocked expression.

“Is this for me? You didn’t have to guys,” you say as joy fills your heart. Veins warming at the fact they went out of their way to surprise you.

“you know we’d do anything for you. Chan said with a kiss on your forehead. You watch as everyone gathers around the table. Cake in the center. Seungmin takes the lighter he worked hard for and lights the candles. Soon the cake is ablaze. Looking around the room at all the faces singing Happy Birthday is as hard not to smile. You were truly so happy.

“All right now make a wish.” jeongin says beside you. His hand on top of yours.

You close your eyes and make your wish. Silently of course. Taking a deep breath you exhale. Hoping you’ll be blessed with many more birthdays with your boys.

[starlemons]

Coffee and Crime ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ PART THREE

Pairing ✦ mafia!bucky x reader

Word Count ✦ 1.2K

Warnings ✦ overall story has a 18+ content warning, MDNI, mention of hospitals/emergency rooms, honestly pretty fluffy, cussing

A/N ✦ i've been on a writing streak the last few days, i'm already working on part four, hopefully should post it by tomorrow :)

PART TWO »»» Series Masterlist

I will update the series every 1-4 days depending on my schedule

You felt like absolute shit. Your whole body ached and waves of nausea flowed through you. Slowly you lifted your heavy eyelids and looked around. Nat, Clint, Thor, and Wanda all sat around you as you laid in a hospital bed. 

“Y/N’s awake.”, Wanda said to the others. 

Everyone looked towards you. 

“How you feeling?”, Clint asked.

“Awful.”, you groaned, “What the fuck even happened?”

Your memories of the previous night were a blur. The group looked around to each other silently debating who would fill you in.

“Do you remember anything?”, Nat questioned.

“I remember up to when we were on the dance floor but after that, nothing.”

Nat relayed the previous night's events to you, adding details of what happened after you blacked out. Like the fact that Bucky had personally driven you and Nat to the emergency room, and slipped one of the nurses a couple hundred to make sure you got the best treatment possible. 

“He also had me give him your phone number so he could check up on you.”

Internally you lit up, thrilled at the thought of the handsome man caring about your wellbeing. However, something cut through your mind, temporarily interrupting your joy.

“Did he get in trouble for fighting that guy?”

“There was no way in hell that guy was going to be calling the cops after what he tried to do to you so no trouble there and Bucky can’t get in trouble with the club seeing as he owns it.”, Nat said, “I found that out on our drive to the hospital because I had the same thought as you.”

Your brain was trying to process all of the information you had just been given, almost feeling overwhelmed by it.

A soft knock on the door turned all of your attention that way. A blonde nurse in baby blue scrubs was leaning her shoulder against the door as she opened it, a large vase of pink roses and tulips clutched in her hands.

“Miss (Y/L/N), these just got delivered for you.”, she smiled at you.

Thor stood and retrieved the flowers from her. Setting them down on the thick window ledge, he plucked the card from the stand it sat on, and handed it to you. You opened the envelope shakily, your body was still not fully recovered from last night. 

Hey Sweetheart, Let me know when you get out of the hospital, I sent you a text so you have my number. Hope you’re okay. I’m here if you need anything ━ Bucky

Your face blossomed with a blush.

“Who are they from?”, Clint asked.

With a wide grin you responded, “Bucky.”

A few hours later and the emergency room doctors finally cleared you to go home. Your friends helped you gather your belongings, Clint and Wanda telling you goodbye as you guys reached the parking lot. Thor kindly gave you and Nat a ride back home to your apartment.

After dropping you guys off he yelled from his car window, "Bye guys! Love you both!"

"Bye Thor, we love you too!", you and Nat yelled back to him as you continued up the sidewalk and into your apartment building.

After you crossed the threshold of your home, you immediately headed to your bedroom.

“I’m going to go shower and get this hospital smell off of me.”, you told Nat.

“Okay, let me know if you need anything, I’ll be out here watching TV.”

Entering your room, you immediately shed your dress from the previous night, tossing it into your dirty clothes hamper. You dug through your dresser selecting a pair of baggy grey sweats and one of your favorite oversized shirts.

After grabbing your clothes you head to your bathroom. Entering, you set your outfit and phone down on the sink, going to turn your shower on. You twist the hot water knob to the on position, the sound of trickling water filling the room.

You moved back to the counter grabbing your phone. As you unlocked it you saw a text from a number you didn’t have saved.

UNKOWN: Let me know when you’re back home, I’ve been worried about you. 

UNKOWN: This is Bucky btw. 

You smiled, saving his name in your phone, and shot him back a text.

Y/N: I’m back home, still not feeling amazing, but I’ll survive. Thank you for the flowers, they’re beautiful.

Bucky quickly sent you a response. 

BUCKY: I hoped they might cheer you up a bit.  Y/N: They definitely did. Also thank you for last night, I appreciate it more than you know. 

The typing bubble popped up and disappeared several times. You closed out of your messages, opening your music streaming app and turning on your favorite playlist. Locking your phone you set it back down on the counter and stepped into the shower. 

You felt some of the tension in your back slowly fade as warm water trickled down your body. After relaxing in the hot water for what you deemed long enough, you began to wash yourself, scrubbing a little too hard, trying to get the smell of the hospital off of you as well as the metaphorical feeling of Caleb's hands.

Once you felt that you were sufficiently clean, you grabbed a light green towel off the wall, wrapping it around your body. 

You reached for your phone again.

BUCKY: I’m just glad you're safe.

You saw that several minutes had passed in between that text and the following ones he sent.

BUCKY: Go to dinner with me? BUCKY: Only if you want to of course. I don’t want you to think you have to say yes just because I helped you yesterday. 

‘Men that respect boundaries are so hot’, you thought to yourself.

Y/N: Of course, I would really like that. 

You set your phone down again. Drying your hair and doing your skincare. After you finished, you exited the bathroom and flopped down onto your fluffy pink comforter. Exhaustion started taking over you and you crawled under your blankets, snuggling into your pillows.

Your phone buzzed beside your head.

BUCKY: Let me know when you’re free next, I have the perfect place we can go. Y/N: I’m going to take a nap, but when I wake up I’ll check my schedule and see what days I’m not doing anything.  Bucky: Perfect, sleep well sweetheart, ttyl.

You smiled softly, butterflies forming in your stomach. 

You reached for your TV remote, turning on a show to play as background noise while you slept. Your eyes closed, feeling very heavy and within minutes you were asleep.

Nat eventually came into your room and woke you up, letting you get a five hour nap in. She had made the two of you dinner, spaghetti and garlic toast. Your stomach grumbled loudly at the thought of food. Laughing, you followed her into the kitchen.

You pulled up your calendar on your phone, seeing when your next day off was, and texting the information to Bucky.  

Y/N: Just looked and my next day off is Tuesday. BUCKY: I’ll pick you up at 7? Y/N: That works for me :) I’ll send you my address.

After texting him your address you put your phone away, enjoying your dinner with your roommate as you guys watched TV. The two of you made it through several episodes of your show, before Nat started yawning, saying she was going to head to bed. You both went to the kitchen, rising your dishes and headed down the hall into your respective rooms.

You fell asleep, bubbling with excitement over your upcoming date with Bucky.

PART FOUR

I AM OPENING A TAGLIST FOR THIS STORY LET ME KNOW IF YOU WANT ADDED!

[fictionalmenxyn]

𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐞? 𝐍𝐨 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞

Pairing: tutor!rafe x student!reader

Replying to this ask

(Reader is 18 and Rafe is 23. Consensual. Also if your name is Lilly think of a different name for the ‘goody two shoes’ sos 😭)

Warnings: language, light degradation.

꥟꥟꥟

Once again, the clock strikes two pm. Meaning you have your final two hour class of the day. 2 till 4, simple yet challenging. It was math. Although you were a great student with great grades. Your math grades had somewhat dropped recently. Due to the lack of focus and the annoying boys or the good two shoes in your class. Along with the fact you have started to be more laid back and your humour getting to you and your friends.

So here you were. Sat towards the middle back, up by the windows. You sat on the inside part of your desk, resting your back against the wall. Your friends sat around you as the class started to slightly fill. There were about fifteen people in this class. Due to the misbehaved teens who’d skip this class knowing Rafe wasn’t one to mess with.

He sat at his desk, typing away at some emails as he waited for the class to everyone to arrive and for everyone to settle down.

You chatted and laughed with your friends. Then soon enough, Rafe had kicked the door wedge away from the door and closed it. He clasped his hands together “right everyone, focusing now!” Everyone had grown quiet. You turn a little in your seat facing the front a little more.

Rafe started to go through the basic steps of how to do probability. Easy and simple to finish off the day.

He had gotten Lilly to hand the books out. Everyone knowing, including Rafe, that she was the teachers pet. Always correcting people’s answers or calling out on bad behaviour. As he go to hand yours and your friends books she faced the front. “Mr. Cameron?? Y/n and the girls have drawn all over their books…” you and the girls shoot daggers at Lilly. It was the smallest of doodles at the bottom on the cover. Which Rafe had actually said to do if your pen had ran out or broke. Hence the continuous circles at the bottom.

Rafe waved it off “it’s fine, Lilly, just hand them their books…” he sat at his desk and leaned back a little. His polo doing justice for his lean muscular shoulders and his nicely round biceps. He was one of the few male teachers who’d work out. He was also the youngest teacher at your school. He definitely caught your eyes. And probably more girls in the school too.

You watched as his eyes would flicker over to the ‘popular’ girls in the class. For no reason at all, you felt almost, jealous?… could you even say that about your own teacher?… guess so, right?…

You had noticed how those girls, who were also in many of your other classes, would catch people’s attention. So that’s another reason you’ve become the way you have been for the past two weeks.

You did a few questions, knowing you wouldn’t be in detention for the lack of work you would’ve had. So as you do about ten questions. You turn to your friends, chatting away and quietly messing around.

Rafe would glance over the class every so often. Checking if anyone had their hands up or needed help. He then looked over to you and your friends. He saw the way you weren’t writing away as you usually would. He also noticed your lack of concentration and focus this past couple of weeks. He cleared his throat “Y/n, girls… focusing please.” He said in a soft but firm voice.

You and the girls went quiet, chuckling and giggling to yourself as you all do a few more questions then go back to what you were doing with each other. Lilly, however, must’ve had a thing against you today. She wasn’t happy. She raised her hand. Rafe looked up and nodded his head up “yeah, Lilly?” Lilly lowered her hand and replied “sir, Y/n is distracting me! I can’t focus…”

You scoffed and threw your arms up and let them drop down. Your friends rolling their eyes at Lilly. But also shocked as how she just called you out too. Even though they knew they were chatting just as much as you.

Rafe looked over to you “Y/n, I told you to focus on your work… c’mon, back to it.” You and the girls go back to working.

After three more times Lilly has specifically picked out you to complain about.

Rafe got up from his desk. Walking over to you and the girls. He had told two of your friends to split up and sit else where. The three of you being separated. Lilly had a smug yet stupid grin on her face. You glared at her and spoke “I’ll smack that stupid smile-” Rafe cut you off “don’t even finish that sentence, young lady… now..” he leaned back in the empty desk opposite you. Crossing his muscular arms. He continued “listen, you’re gonna finish your work and I’m gonna stay right here so I know you’re not causing any trouble. Get, to, it.”

You felt his eyes bore into you. You could feel his gaze. You were struggling. And not academically… he noticed that quickly. So he grinned slightly to himself. He grabbed a spear chair and sat in front of you at your desk. “Need help, sweetheart?” You looked to his eyes. Locking eyes as you nod a little. Your palms feeling slightly sweaty at the hottest teacher in your school.

He leaned closer, his legs spread under the desk due to his long legs. He reached into your pencil case and grabbed a pen. Even if he had his own pen in his pocket. He couldn’t lie when he said he’d been eyeing your pens. They looked nice to write with. A strange thing to say but it was true.

He started to talking you through it, how to probability. He’d lean closer to you as he would turn the paper so you could both see what he’d write. He’d use your stationary.

Soon enough he’d let you be, both of you slightly disappointed at the loss of closeness. But another teen in class needed his help. So he left you to it to finish in your own.

Soon enough, the bell rang. He called out “right everyone! Pack away, have a good day all…” he watched you closely as you put your pencil case into your bag and tug your backpack onto your shoulder. As you walk over to your friends. He called out “everyone’s dismissed, but Y/n! Stay behind, please” You whipped your head around “what?!”

He nodded “yes, you, stay behind..” he clicked his fingers and pointed to the desk right in front of his. You huffed and wave your friends bye as you sit on the desk.

Once everyone had left. He turned to look at you. He crossed his arms and leg one on front of the other. As he leaned his hip against his desk, he spoke “now, you and I know why I asked you to stay back.” He added “so why’re you being like this, hm?”

You crossed your leg over the other “like what?” He looked to your legs for a brief moment. Wondering what his hand would be like on them. Or his what his head would look like bet- Rafe, no, don’t start.

He reminded the setting of the moment. He spoke “like you had today, what’s with all the chatting and the lack of work getting done? Where’s that high scoring gone, hm? I’ve noticed the slight drop in your grades, sweetheart. Y’know if you keep this up I’m gonna have to call home..” you shake your head “don’t, please, it’s fine… it’s not even that bad.” He shook his head “darlin’… you went from a B to a D… and I know you do well in all of your classes so there must be something going on..”

After going back and forth, Rafe was slowly loosing his patience. God how could a pretty girl like you make him want to shout at you?… you’re to gorgeous for him to do that.

He spoke “Y/n, Y/n, darlin’… listen.. I’m not here for your bullshit excuses… I’m here to support and teach you…” you snapped back “I pay attention! I do the work! It’s fucking-” “language, sweetheart.” You huffed “I bet this is all cause of the teachers pet, Lilly..” you cross your arms. Rolling your eyes.

He had enough, you needed to be taught a lesson. And not in math either. Rafe didn’t teach naughty girls. Not at all.

He yanked your arms to uncross themselves and grabbed your jaw. He stepped closer and gently yanked your face closer to his. He spoke lowly “you listen here… I don’t give a shit about Lilly… yeah she may be a teachers pet, but that isn’t the discussion I’m trying to have here. You’re being naughty… and you know I don’t teach naughty kids. So tell me, what’s up with you?!”

You gasp softly as he had gently yanked your face closer to his. His eyes darting between your eyes and lips. His lips parted ever so slightly. Looking as hot as ever. God you didn’t expect this to turn you on so much. You feel your knees going weak and your lower stomach fluttering.

You remarked.

“I’m trying my best! Doesn’t that matter?!” He replied “Yea! I see that! But you’ve done so much more, Y/n… I know you can do more than that… I’ve seen the way you interact with people, how well you do in other lessons, the way other teachers talk highly of you… c’mon, what’s the issue? Why’re you falling back in just my lessons, eh? You were a smart girl, sweetheart… where did that go?” You mumbled “I- I thought you’d be into popular girl more…” you looked to the floor as Rafe continued to stare into your eyes. His breathing hitched ever so slightly.His eyes on you as he clicked his tongue…

꥟꥟꥟

[marshmellin]

What’s the Elvish Word for “Fine”?

Rated I for (angry) Idiots in Love: 5.8K words, Thranduil x unnamed/undescribed mortal woman, 2nd person POV, no use of y/n Rated mature for language only, "arranged marriage" in a political sense with consent between willing adults, they’re big mad but is it anger or just being stupid?

No beta, we die like Thranduil's first wife who is not mentioned

You rounded the corner and stopped suddenly. Thranduil was sitting on Carasta’s desk. Sitting was the wrong term. Lounging.  “Hello, wife.”  He was in dark, silvery robes without his crown, his long legs propped up against a chair. With a far-too-broad smile on his face.  Something stupid was happening. 

If you enjoy this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.

//

“It is infuriating that you keep putting up this long –” – slam – “ – infuriating – ” – slam – “ – show – ” – slam —. “I can not want you in the way you want me.” Cold blue eyes stared at you, waiting for the outburst, the anger he so desperately wanted to bloom across your face. 

When Thranduil started to feel something – anything – stirring in his chest, he started a fight. You noticed the two of you fought often. More so now than at the beginning of your not-quite-a-marriage two years ago. You did not think it a coincidence, but what the hell did you know?

You’d thought you’d entered a partnership with someone civil. 

Nodding almost imperceptibly, you kept your face still. “And what, exactly, makes you think I want you, Thranduil?” You let just a little sarcasm creep in. 

He narrowed his cold eyes, evaluating you. 

The issue was, however: You did want him. 

In the last two years, you had come to want him very much, though you admit you are unsure how it started given his general demeanor. 

Well, that’s a lie. He’s an elf. And he is particularly attractive for an elf, at that. His face alone gives his behavior a pass for the first three, maybe four encounters. 

But this behavior was not one of his better looks and you’d have no issue turning this version of the Elvenking down for the rest of your very mortal life. 

White hot fury flashed across his face. “You know what I mean. Constantly, you show it. And I can not — will not — respond the way you want!”

You leaned back in your chair. “I do not know what you mean, Thranduil” you said firmly, shaking your head exaggeratedly. “What is it that I show you?”  --You weren’t showing him sex or physical affection, certainly so – “What is it that you claim to see from me that you can not respond to, Thranduil?”

The more you said his name, the angrier he would get, which is why you kept doing it. Thranduil all but snaked his way to gripping the desk across from you, leaning over your papers. Curtains of snow-white hair hanging between you as he glared down at you. Not exactly giving you "the high ground” so to speak, but the fact that he came this close to you meant he was already on his back foot. 

“You…are….constantly…HERE. You ask after me, you bring me food, you manage to interrupt me during every letter I’ve written in the last four weeks. You bring me books you think I might like, you leave me letters about your work. I do not know how to respond to you. I have been alone in these chambers for centuries and yet you are HERE. I do not want this and I do not want you. And I do not know why you continue to make this arrangement so difficult by pretending.”

You blinked at that, tilting your head. Slowly. You were giving him time to suss it out on his own. 

But his rage was icy, bathed in wine from dinner, and he didn’t seem to know how to do math in the cold. 

You set the quill down and steepled your fingers, elbows resting on the desk as you looked up at him looming above you. 

Fine. 

“Everything you have just ‘accused’ me of is what spouses do, Thranduil. Husbands and wives. Partners. Bluntly, you bought yourself a wife, ThranduilI, through an even exchange: you have a skilled negotiator and queen, my uncle’s people have food and protection.”

Muscles in his jaw worked and he opened his mouth, “That is not–”

You held up a hand, cutting him off. “Ah-aht, no, Thranduil. No. You said what you wanted to say both tonight and many other nights. And now you will let me do the same.” 

The look on his face didn’t change, but his mouth snapped shut. 

It might do him some good to shut up for a moment, even if it gave you heartburn to demand it.

“It weighs on my heart that someone asking after your wellbeing startles you so,” you said steadily, fingers tapping against the desk as if making an observation that it was raining outside – but the truth of it stung you. 

It did hurt that he was so…that he thought someone making sure he ate was…

It was heartbreaking. 

But, it was becoming increasingly clear, his heart was not yours to mend. 

You sighed again. At this point you were sighing more often than breathing. “Thank you for this final, clear message that you take no pleasure in our” — marriage? Partnership? It had never been one — “contract. I will make my thoughts equally as plain: I have one job in Greenwood. It is to be your wife and queen. And in truth, it’s a shitty job, but I’m going to do it as best as I can, Thranduil. I agree, our quarters are not ideal and I will leave for another part of the palace within the week.”

Thranduil held your gaze. You cocked an eyebrow. You thought you saw another muscle in his jaw twitch, but you weren’t sure. 

When he finally spoke, his tone was softer, which you had not expected. “I do not want to…put on a show….”

Your eyebrows shot up at that. You were done being lectured. “You purchased a fucking show, Thranduil. Now you are angry when it’s performed for you? Fine. That is your choice, and I am happy to stop acting like this is a working partnership.” You snorted and broke eye contact, reaching down to pick up your quill. 

Head down, squinting at the parchment, you did your best to dismiss him. It had taken you an extraordinary amount of effort to say all of this to him, for several reasons, and you could not look him in the eye any longer. 

Firstly, fuck him for coming in to your study, knocking books around and talking too loudly after you both just sat through an entrant for Arda’s Most Boring Banquet award and smiled as his queen was supposed to. King Amdír’s son Amroth wasn’t exactly the best conversationalist and yet, converse you had with the obnoxious Silvan. 

And you were feeling quite unappreciated at this moment, considering you’d also negotiated an agreement for open trade of leather goods from Amroth’s father during the dinner. While Thranduil drank — a reminder that he is, at least, two glasses in — and muttered every time you stood near him at a respectful distance. 

Secondly, this was the only time you had ever thought about your relationship with Thranduil as a contract that he did not seem to understand. 

You knew what was being exchanged. The elven-ness of it all had been jarring at first, yes, but you knew from a young age you would enter a political marriage and you had been raised for one. Binding your family and your people to the largest local realm ruled by a nearly-immortal being was a solid strategy to ensure your great, great, great-grandchildren would be protected and fed -- and it was the equivalent of a 10-year contract to someone like Thranduil. You had no qualms about this, and you entered the agreement with him with open eyes, as equals. 

Yet, you had not probed deeply into his understanding of it until today. Of what partnership meant to him. In any way. 

Leaving behind a book he may find interesting? About a topic, if you recalled correctly — and you know you did — he discussed during dinner once and noted he wished to understand better. 

That was too much after two years of knowing each other? Of knowing each other in any capacity? Even just as a member of his court, much less his wife? 

If so, he had a very weak understanding of any kind of partnership, marriage or otherwise, and you truly had expected more from him. 

Thirdly, you did not want to leave his chambers or stop asking how he was or stop bringing him books he may like or leaving notes about your day. As irritable and obnoxious and, honestly, unpleasant as Thranduil could be…. 

You found him endearing in those milliseconds he allowed himself to feel anything but anger. All together, he was many negative things, yes. But he was also protective of his family and his people, wise in how he negotiated relationships with neighboring kingdoms and the High Elves. He was well-read and, when he allowed himself to show it, he had this wonderful wit and charm that was…well, he was charming. 

You had been charmed. 

And over the last two years of this arrangement, you learned you wanted to be his wife in more than just contractual terms. You think you’ve fallen in love with him. And you know you want him to want you in return. 

But. 

He just said plainly that he did not want that. That he did not want you. 

And if this is where you were, then this is where you were. Your options were limited, your contract signed, and your choices made. 

You had not expected to find love here. Confirming it was absent didn’t change a damn thing, and at this point it did not sting. Your job was to negotiate contracts on behalf of Thranduil Oropherion, the Elvenking and to attend events as his Queen. 

That was it.

Leaving him books or being pleasant was not part of the contract you signed. 

Your thoughts drifted aimlessly, landing on the question of how you would like your new chambers laid out — since a large takeaway from this conversation was that spending time in the same room — palace — realm — continent — with you angered him. 

The conjoined study layout here was not ideal. Thranduil had a tendency to shout profanities at his correspondence before replying in a more civil manner. You had grown accustomed to it — even smiling on occasion when he invented new ways to swear at Thorin or Celeborn — but perhaps it was best to avoid that distraction now that you were.... 

Well, if Thranduil is not near me, it doesn’t matter if the rooms are conjoined or not. 

With a small sigh, you noted that request with an asterisk to return to later. 

You were halfway through the next line when you realized he had. not. moved. At all. Not even an inch. He was still staring at the top of your head as you wrote, long hair falling into the space between you. 

Why? This conversation, much like your illusions of ever having a civil working relationship, was over. 

You set the quill aside gently as you looked up to meet his eyes. "Yes, Thranduil?"

“So, that is what it was, then?”

Furrowing your brow, you shook your head in confusion. “I don’t ... wait, what?” Your gaze met his. All the ice in his eyes had melted, but the rest of him moved stiffly as he leaned back, letting go of the desk. 

“Fine.”

He spun on his heel, hair flaring around him, and walked out. 

“Fine!” you shouted after him, half rising from the desk to make sure it carried to the next room. 

You weren’t sure why you were shouting at him, but you’d make sure you’d be the one to shout last. 

//

The next morning, you asked a courier to take your note to Thranduil requesting new chambers on the far side of the Halls. 'Note' was a generous term: it was a list of items for him to approve, signed with the first initial of your name. 

Warm, it was not. 

But the courier said he had been instructed “not to deliver messages to King Thranduil at this time, my lady. His majesty requests your presence in the throne room.”

You arched an eyebrow at that. 

“Very well, thank you for letting me know.” You waved your hand to dismiss the courier. 

“Ah,” he said softly, shifting uncomfortably. 

Thranduil. Are you familiar with an old saying from the lowlands? Bite my ass? If not, then it is unlikely you’re familiar with that phrase’s cousin, Go fuck yourself. I am happy to teach you both.

“Your majesty, I would be honored to, um, guard you as you travel to the throne room,” he ended weakly, because guarding a queen while she walked in her own halls was a ridiculous thing to suggest. 

Thranduil was doing something very stupid. You weren’t sure what, exactly, but you could sense it. 

“I appreciate the offer, Lieutenant, but I am not going to the throne room today.” Thranduil had, at least, taught you a few tricks for leadership. Or, more accurately, intimidation. 

The young ellon looked very torn, as if repeating hierarchy structures in his head and continually arriving at the conclusion that Thranduil was at the top. “Your maj—“ 

“You’re dismissed, Lieutenant.” Yes, the Elvenking was at the top of all of those hierarchies, but you rested just beneath him. 

…Well…

The guard left. 

So you used this opportunity to take the scroll he would not deliver to Thranduil, and went to look for Carasta, Thranduil’s private secretary. Walking from your section of your chambers through Thranduil’s, your goal was getting to Carsasta’s work table on the far side of the suite. You would provide him with the list of your requests. If Thranduil didn’t want to accept your request from Carasta, that was fine. You would find the nearest builder and take the walls down yourself, but you were not spending one more minute sharing your chambers with Thranduil than either of you wished to. 

You rounded the corner and stopped suddenly. Thranduil was sitting on Carasta’s desk. Sitting was the wrong term. Lounging. 

“Hello, wife.” 

He was in dark, silvery robes without his crown, his long legs propped up against a chair. With a far-too-broad smile on his face. 

Something stupid was happening. 

“King Thranduil,” you said, inclining your head. 

“Melethnín,” he said softly, his eyes going wide. “What brings you here? I hoped you would join me in the main hall.” 

My love? You cocked an eyebrow. “I am simply leaving a note for Carasta regarding my chambers,” you said evenly, reaching around Thranduil’s long form to place the scroll on Carasta’s desk. You didn’t even want to guess how he made it from the throne room to Carasta’s desk that fast. 

Was he even in the throne room or did he know you’d ignore him?

“Ah, I am eager to read this,” Thranduil said happily, picking up the scroll and opening it. 

It took everything in you not to snatch it from him. Even though he had been the original recipient. 

Icy eyes skimming your notes, he tsked loudly. “Ah, melethnín, this is not sufficient. Not at all! I would not have you move so far from our shared quarters. Mmm, no, we shall draft a new plan together. It is only right for a queen to have a full suite for her study and work, verinya.”

My love. My wife. 

So, something very stupid. 

You sighed. “Thranduil. I am moving my chambers to the other side of the Halls.”

He shook his head, his face the picture of innocence as he rolled up the scroll and hid it away in his robes — where, you didn’t know, because his robes were almost skintight. “I do not want you to leave our chambers.”

“I’ll write another request, king.”

“I’ll intercept it, queen.”

“Thranduil.”

“Melethnín.”

 A long pause. 

“You asked me to leave you alone.”

He shook his head firmly. “No, I said you were always here.”

“You shouted that you wanted space.”

He cocked his head, arrogance on his face, as silver hair cascaded over his shoulder. “I did not. I acknowledge I raised my voice in a very unrefined way, for which I do truly apologize. But I did not demand space apart from you. And on either account, I find I have changed my mind, verinya.”

My wife. 

“You will find I have not, veronya.” You spun on your heel and walked out. 

You heard him raise his voice mockingly, calling, “I haven’t interrupted your day, have I, my love?” at your back as you left. 

“No. You’re fine,” you gritted out loudly as you stomped out. 

“Fine,” came the muted reply from three rooms away. 

// 

Two months later, and Thranduil had not stopped yet, though his tone had grown less mocking, at least. 

He came to you for every meal — and he managed to carry on many thoughtful conversations despite the one-word replies you often gave. He brought you books — frustratingly, the titles were interesting, and he had clearly listened to you at some point to pick them out. He came to ask you questions while you wrote letters and arranged new trade agreements — his comments were obnoxiously helpful and pertinent. 

Thranduil seemed to think that acting pleasant toward you was a punishment of some kind. 

And it was, because it felt like a perverse game. He was showing you what you could have if you…if he….

Well, you weren’t sure what. Something you could not have? He had been very clear. And, you knew, he could be very petty. 

Thranduil also seemed to be playing more than one game, particularly by calling you every pet name devised by Elves or Men — and you think you caught a Dwarven term of endearment or two in there as well, so clearly he was not aware of the origins of the term or he never would have uttered it in his halls.  

And yet you did not know why he continued this game for so long. But you suspected the other shoe would drop at some point. 

It was the second time that evening he had scooted his chair closer to yours, the two of you practically sharing a desk. 

“May I suggest you add another clause here — we can’t be held responsible for orc raids. Transfer of ownership occurs when the wine leaves our barges, even if within our borders. I have spoken with Celeborn on this point already, and told him it was not up for discussion.” He tapped a long finger on the side of your paper and looked down, eyes crinkling as he smiled. “Don’t let him go around us, melethnín.”

He kept breaking your heart with this game, and you were done. 

“Thranduil, stop.”

The smile slipped from his face. “Ah. Of course. I’ll leave you to it,” he murmured gently, turning back to his side of the desk. 

When did we pick sides of the same desk?

You sighed and stood, creating some distance between the two of you. 

You were done. It was done now. 

“You have made your point. I understand. You think it’s suffocating. That I am suffocating. I understand. I understood this two months ago when you told me that you would remain married to me —  unwillingly — if I left you alone. And I have moved to limit our interactions since then. I understand what you want.“

You held back a scream, but did not manage to stop a snarl from escaping somewhere deep in your chest. “I will never send you a book ever again, on my oath to Varda and Manwë, I will never speak to you outside a royal function ever again. Please, just stop.”

Thranduil stood as well, rising fluidly and pausing to gently place his chair under his half of the — under the desk. He was, well, patient as he turned to face you, a surprising softness in his eyes. 

“I changed my—“

“— yes, Thranduil, you changed your damn mind about the damn rooms. I heard you. I have not changed mine. I am not asking you to alter our marriage contract here, okay, this is a small thing. I want to move to my own study — per your request — and I cannot understand why you have fixated on this so strongly.”

He did not want you to leave this space. Yet he did not want you to stay in this space. 

No option was good enough for him.  

You crossed your arms. You had seen him be petulant before but two months? You finally met his gaze and it was exactly what you were expecting. Anger blossoming across his face, that one small muscle in his cheek that always twitched. 

“Contract.”

“Fine. Contract.” You threw your hands up in frustration and started rummaging through the desk. “If you want to read the damn thing to ensure I’m following it, I’ll tell you right now there are exactly zero requirements around—”

“Carasta’s files are much more organized,” Thranduil said icily. 

You looked up, letting the papers in your hands scatter to the desktop. “Marry Carasta then, goddamnit. I don’t care.” You were so tired it came out as a flat statement. 

Taking a deep breath, Thranduil seemed to try again, looking for patience in himself you had never seen him find. 

“I don’t want to be married to Carasta,” he said simply, managing to keep his voice steady. “I want to understand.”

You furrowed your brow even more. He wasn’t making sense.

“You aren’t making sense.” 

A small growl escaped him. “What is it that you want? You…I didn’t understand what you meant by…” he huffed and managed to do so haughtily. “Was it a show or not?”

“Was what a show?” You looked around the room, as if expecting to spot the audience, and let your hands drop to your legs in a clapping sound. “The only person complicating this is you. I have stopped reaching out, as you have asked. Why are you fighting—“

“So it was.” He spun on his heel again. 

Oh, I think the fuck not. You were absolutely not doing this for another two months. You were a patient woman but you had limits. Honestly, one limit. And you had reached it. 

You snatched at his arm, grabbing a layer of his cape, which allowed him to walk several more feet before feeling any resistance. 

“Stop. Oh, for fuck’s sake, just stop.”

“I am stopping,” he replied through gritted teeth, hair swinging as he jerked his head to look at you. “I am done.”

You imagined you heard the sound of the other shoe dropping on a marble floor somewhere far away.

You both stood still for a long moment, your hand holding the edge of his cape like an awkward flag between the two of you. His eyes were still white flame, staring into the distance, not meeting yours. The set of his shoulders and the jut of his chin said he wanted to argue again. 

That he was feeling something. 

Why? Done with what? 

“What are you done with?”

Thranduil shrugged your hand off his cape and swept it dramatically behind him. “This. Because you...I thought you did not and then I thought you did, and now it is clear my first impression was correct and you do not. I have approached this incorrectly twice now. I will not attempt it a third. You have been clear.”

You cocked your head at him. The two of you hadn’t used a meaningful noun in quite some time during this argument. You knew that was the type of risk that had to be corrected immediately. 

No one was ever on the same page the first time. 

But you had a suspicion. 

“Define ‘this,’” you all but whispered. 

“Absolutely not. I am done speaking of it. I will not allow you to mock me.”

Your eyes narrowed. “I’m not mocking you, I’m asking you a question. We have strayed so far from the start of this conversation that I fear we are saying the same thing and don’t know it.”

He glared at you. “That can’t—“

“Why has your behavior been so different the last two months?”

Thranduil shifted almost uncomfortably, but managed to keep venom in his tone. “You indicated this is the behavior of those who are partners.” A small pause, his voice turning sullen. “Of husbands and wives.”

It took all your focus not to move a single muscle in your face. “You indicated several times that you did not care for me to be your partner or your wife.”

“Yes,” he hissed, “But I changed my mind because I thought I had misunderstood before, and I do not know how to show that to you properly now.”

Thranduil started pacing, his long legs turning the study into two, maybe three steps at most before he spun again. His robes barely fit the space.  

No. This— No. You felt a laugh somewhere deep in your chest, but you forced it down in case he misunderstood. 

Which you both seemed to be doing often lately. 

“Tell me, specifically, what you are trying to show me,” you asked cautiously. 

This was not a time for miscommunication. You would stay here the rest of your mortal life if needed, but you would walk out of this room knowing what the fuck he meant. 

Because you thought you already knew. 

He shook his head, silver hair glinting in the firelight. 

“Thranduil.”

He was still shaking his head, glaring at the hearth, nearly shaking in anger. But he hadn’t left or slammed any doors, which was a good sign. 

One of the first things you had learned about negotiating, years ago when you first followed your uncle to his council meetings as a child, was that the party who named an honest, earnest number first was on their back foot. Yes, it was possible to put out an offer first and still make more from it than expected or hoped for — and sometimes, offering first was both a wise and generous way to proceed — but generally speaking, it took extraordinary skill or luck to argue for more after naming the first number. 

So generally speaking, the party who moved first was not in the strong position. 

Generally speaking. 

But, you had an extraordinary amount of skill — that’s why you were in this room. At the same time, you hadn’t felt particularly lucky lately, but…you would still name a number first. 

Fine. 

“Melethnín.”

That got him to turn with inhuman speed, his face a mask of rage. “I said do not mock me.” His icy eyes locked with yours. 

“I am not mocking you.”

His brow furrowed. “Then why,” he said quickly, crossing the study in two large steps to loom over you, “did you call me that?”

“Why,” you challenged back, “have you called me that for the past two months?”

Thranduil's pale eyes had not yet left your face, inches away now, searching you for any hint that you were lying or mocking him. His gaze did not waver and he finally leaned back, satisfied. “You do not know what it means. You are mocking me.”

A harsh chuckle at that. “I know exactly what it means and I am not mocking you.” You put a hand on your hip at the implied insult that you, the goddamn Queen of the Silvan Elves of the Greenwood, wife of the Elvenking, did not know the most basic endearment your people use to address their spouses and children. “Well, correction, now I am mocking you….you’re questioning my understanding of vocabulary? Well, how good is your Khuzdul, again, Thranduil? Zigil’ûl is a Dwarven term of endearment; I’m surprised you deigned to use it.” 

He hadn’t noticed “silver stream” was not in Quenya? Even with the accents? 

His eyes softened, but still anger flashed across his face as he stared down at you. “You have not answered why you are using an elven term of endearment to refer to me right now.”

You thought about pushing back. But something very fragile in his eyes made you pause. It felt like a risk but…you were willing to name a second number. 

Fine. 

A sigh. “I used this Sindarin term because it’s how I refer to you in my head.”

Thranduil cocked his head, looking at you curiously now, some of his rage fading. “How good is —“

“— I am fluent in Sindarin. We speak it fifty percent of the time we are together instead of Westron. Stop it, Thranduil.”

He did stop at that, at least for a moment, as thoughts started churning in his head. His pale eyes flicked around the room, looking at everything but you. 

A surprising sign of vulnerability from a king who would lock eyes with Manwë himself and never blink, if given the chance. If able to take that chance by force. 

“No.” Thranduil shook his head again, still refusing to meet your gaze, speaking to your bookshelf. “No, I will not stop until I understand. You said I had purchased a performance and that you would stop performing it. You just looked for the contract to show me what you were required to do as my wife.”

A pause as he turned his head toward you, but stayed facing the other direction — ready to run. 

“But, if your past behavior was a performance, then…I do not understand why you would call me melethnín in the privacy of your own mind, especially now,” he ended with a noise between a sigh and an irritated groan, still not meeting your eyes. 

You saw the issue now. He thought you showed care for him in the last two years because it was what was expected of you. 

A performance. 

Not because you actually gave a damn about him as a partner or as a husband. 

And then, you pulled back from him. Because he asked you to. Because he did not understand that caring about him was something you genuinely wanted to do. Enjoyed doing. Thranduil had not wanted to be part of a show because he…. 

He thought you were being cruel to him. As you thought he had been to you for the last two months. 

He was that wrong for two years? 

You looked up to meet his gaze. Thranduil hesitated, seeming to have the same revelation, but finding himself much less confident in the outcome. “So, please explain it. Why would you call me your love today?” he asked again, his voice so soft you barely heard him. 

Naming the third number in a row was too large of a request to concede, even for him. Even now that you understood. You needed an assurance of some kind first. 

“A counter-question, first. Have the last two months been a performance on your part, Thranduil?” Some vulnerability entered your tone, too, though you wished it had not. “I will not allow you to mock me, either.”

A pause. “The first two days were, yes.”

You raised an eyebrow at that, but he met your gaze unflinchingly. “And then I found I…I preferred it. I enjoyed being closer to you and hearing your thoughts. And I noticed the quality of your contracts improved.”

You crossed your arms. “Mmhmm,” you grunted at that.  

Thranduil cocked his head, his eyes soft now, his tone surprisingly sweet and earnest. “So if you’ll forgive those first few days, melethnín, then no, I have not been false to you once in these past months.” A brief hesitation. “Was it…Before. How you showed that you cared for me. Was that an act for you?”

You paused, considering carefully. “For the last two months, any modicum of patience I’ve shown in your presence has been an act. But no, nothing before the night…we last fought,” you ended simply. 

“Oh.” A faint blush rose to his cheeks.

You both stood there, staring dumbly at each other. 

Thranduil dipped his head in embarrassment. “It is rare, but I find even I need time to learn.”

You nodded slowly. He was telling you that he had misunderstood. Maybe he was telling you he loved you. But he remained frustratingly vague. 

You were struggling between the urge to kiss him or punch him. You tried to calculate your odds at both and concluded you’d need to do it in a specific order for it to work. Kiss first, then punch. 

A knee to the groin was the only way he won’t see it coming until it’s too late. But you also had a growing interest in that area…

No matter what you chose, you weren’t going to be fast enough. Maybe while he slept. 

“So, to summarize,” you started slowly. And then your mouth shut gently. You opened it a few more times to speak but nothing came out, so you stood there with your hand on your hip, moving your mouth like a fish. 

The politician and jackass in Thranduil got there first. “To summarize, you have been in love with me since the day we met, and over the last two months I’ve learned that there are certain merits to being the recipient of that love.”

You felt your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, and your mouth did open at that. 

The arrogance. 

“The arrogance. Absolutely not. Revise it.” 

A small smile played at the corners of his mouth but he remained silent. This was him teasing you. You’d enjoy it thoroughly in any other context. “No, you do not get to be this way with me after all of that, Thranduil…”

The smirk grew as he leaned closer to you. “I will no longer answer to that name when you use it. You’ll have to try another, melethnín.”

Fine. 

“Heconna.” Bastard. 

He raised an eyebrow at that one. “Fluent, indeed. But I have time and I can wait for you to find the correct term.”

“Pellopë.” Jackass. 

The smirk never left his face. “Yes, we’ve established that you know and use words in both Sindarin and Quenya that most Eldar would blush to hear. I’m sure this vocabulary is useful when you swear at local merchants and drink in their bars — a very queenly activity.” 

He was still teasing you. He finally had come close enough to snake his hands low around your hips, craning down at you, nothing but a blend of absolute mischief and arrogance in his pale eyes. “Mmm, I’m happy to give you a hint, wife.”

This was the most surprising day you had experienced since coming to Greenwood. And you were going to use it to your advantage as much as you could. 

Too many things were still unspoken. 

You shook your head and pulled back — gently, you still wanted him badly and your resolve was weakening the more he leaned into you. Gods, he smelled good. “Absolutely not. Not until you revise it.”

He sighed, his long fingers splayed across your lower back as he nudged you closer to his chest in return. “To summarize: Your caring behavior toward me was never an act or obligation on your part, and neither was mine. We seem to," he hesitated a beat, "Love each other, though we are quite ineffectual at speaking plainly with each other.” 

Thranduil reached out to tuck back a strand of your hair, his finger gently tracing the rounded shell of your ear as you fought to repress a shiver. “With this new understanding in mind, our marriage no longer needs to remain contractual alone, if you wish to become closer. As I do.” His fingers brushed against your face, trailing down your neck softly to trace your collarbone. His other hand kept you close against him. “Is this revision more to your liking, melethnín?”

You frowned, hands coming to rest on his chest. “Yes. But you owe me an apology for more than the last two months.”

“Yes,” he agreed softly, his forehead coming to rest against yours. “Would you like me to begin reciting my long list of sins now? Or would you prefer we kissed instead? I have a rather clear preference, but,” he shrugged over-casually. “I will make time for both.” 

You hesitated. “Both.” 

“Fine, verinya,” he murmured, gently tilting your head up towards his.

“Fine, veronya,” you whispered back against his lips. 

// AN: I'd have to leave you on a cliffhanger, so:

Túra in Quenya means "big, or great," which would capture "fine!" well enough.

Dail in Sindarin means "lovely," which I imagine can be sarcastic af coming from Thranduil, the petty bastard.

The difference in these two languages, for purpose of these idiots in love, is snobbery. Quenya is high-brow, Sindarin is what all normal people speak. He says he loves her in common tongue but calls her wife as high-brow as possible to be a jackass. Mission accomplished, Thran-daddy.

// If you enjoyed this, check out ✨The Director's Cut✨ masterlist with quick links to all my TROP/LOTR content and AO3 profile.