#the Lidless Eye

[madcat-world]

the Lidless Eye - D8P

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Lord of the Rings: The Card Game - The Lidless Eye by D8P

[almostlookedhuman]

[supreme-leader-stoat]

Lookin' more like Sauron in this picture.

Me: *trying to take a cute picture of Morgoth* Morgoth:

[ariadne-mouse]

It is a lovely day in the deep Fold and you are an unlucky big face

(or, UNEND episode 11)

[xelitzenith]

Something I've seen but never heard anyone talk about is how wally mimics a person/possessing their demeanor sure it's not 1 to 1 Because it's wally but it's there.

[hauntedfalcon]

*slides fandom $20 the potential for my respect* before we get too far into this chapter, learn to spell Rajan Savarimuthu and Noshir Dalal

[ark081]

I don't super understand the hate towards Chains of Harrow... It was not necessarily a magnificent quest, but I enjoyed it. :-(

[madcat-world]

Sauron, the Lidless Eye - YigitKoroglu

[marsyas-brainweasels]

So anyone else ever find themselves walking along trying to suppress the Blood Screams, and suddenly you flash back to that time you and a group of friends got lost in the forest and there were little trinkets hanging from the trees like little dolls made out of twigs, and you could feel something watching you, and then you woke up at 3 AM to the screams of your friends and there were trails of blood leading off into the underbrush, and you can hear a voice whispering in your mind, calling you to follow the blood-streaked trail, but you turn and run and run and run and now the Blood Screams keep coming back and your flesh is not your own and you know it's only a matter of time before whatever was in those woods comes back to claim you forever?

Or is it just me?

[maenefa]

Why does Eowyn want to die?

Because Aragorn won’t love her? Because she feels trapped in her feminine gender role?

These are the explanations we get in the text. However, none of the characters really acknowledge Eowyn’s darkest fear: being taken alive by the enemy.

There are some bad takes on Eowyn that boil down to patronizing her and downplaying the seriousness of her problems. People say that she had a naive desire for glory and Faramir teaches her that war isn’t actually fun. Then there’s the whole “Eowyn was a deserter who selfishly ran away from her duty” argument.

You can only say these things if you ignore how dire the situation was, how close Sauron was to winning, and how gruesome Eowyn’s fate would have been if he won. She knew that death or capture likely awaited her, and she knew that dying in battle was the least bad option. (She also knew her own worth and believed that she was too useful a warrior to be left behind with the civilians. And she was right.)

Eowyn’s actions are ruthlessly practical! She wants to die fighting because that’s better than waiting around for The Horrors. Let’s be real, Eowyn is too sensible to be suicidal over an unrequited crush.

Here are some of her most revealing quotes:

“All your words are but to say: you are a woman, and your part is in the house. But when the men have died in battle and honor, you have leave to be burned in the house, for the men will need it no more.”

“And those who have not swords can still die upon them.”

“Nor is it always evil to die in battle, even in bitter pain. Were I permitted, in this dark hour I would choose the latter.”

“But I do not desire healing…. I wish to ride to war like my brother Éomer, or better like Théoden the king, for he died and has both honour and peace.”

In the end, Eowyn only stops wanting to die after Sauron is defeated. Just before the Ring is destroyed, she tells Faramir:

“I stand upon some dreadful brink, and it is utterly dark in the abyss before my feet, but whether there is any light behind me I cannot tell. For I cannot turn yet. I wait for some stroke of doom.”

Eowyn can’t turn to light and life until the war is over. Hope is too painful; death at least offers “honor and peace.” This passage is so important because it EXPLICITLY links Eowyn’s despair to the outcome of the war and makes it clear that she is not simply having a meltdown because Aragorn rejected her.

There are two important moments where Eowyn is threatened with violence. The very first time we meet her, we are told by Gandalf that Wormtongue planned to turn her into a sex slave after Saruman conquered Rohan. Even though this threat is dismissed quickly, it’s a disturbing reminder of what could happen to Eowyn if Sauron wins.

Then we have the most triumphant moment of Eowyn’s story: her battle with the Witch King. Once again, Eowyn is not threatened with death, but with captivity and torment:

“Come not between the Nazgûl and his prey! Or he will not slay thee in thy turn. He will bear thee away to the houses of lamentation, beyond all darkness, where thy flesh shall be devoured, and thy shrivelled mind be left naked to the Lidless Eye.”

Eowyn laughs at him and makes sure to announce that she is a woman before killing him. Her victory is all the more satisfying because the Witch King has just threatened her with captivity, loss of agency, the violation of her body and mind—all threats that Eowyn has faced before. But the Witch King’s words continue to haunt Eowyn and us. He threatens to withhold death; and death is therefore framed as an escape, a gift. Eowyn is taken to the Houses of Healing, but she is obsessed with returning to battle and fighting until she dies.

When Eowyn says that she fears “a cage,” this is a brilliantly simple metaphor for the entire spectrum of oppression she has faced: from the well-meaning restrictions of her culture to the horrifying enslavement threatened by Wormtongue.

Once the war is over, Eowyn is able to laugh at her fears. She teases Faramir: “And would you have your proud folk say of you: there goes a lord who tamed a wild shieldmaiden of the North!” Her fear of being caged has been turned into a bit of flirtatious banter. She feels completely safe with Faramir, and the idea that he “tamed” her is nothing but a joke between them.

[ariazou]

The lidless eye 🧿✨

[aluhnim]

Iguin, the Lidless Eye.

[scribblestatic]

Since this is now the third post of Spider Shen Yuan, I'll make a masterpost for it. It'll be linked at the end.

Also, fun fact I just found out, but the word for spider in Chinese is 蜘蛛 (Zhī zhū), and, as you know, Shen Yuan's title (given to him) is Lulin Zhizhu (绿林之主 - lǜlín zhī zhǔ - Lord of the Green Forest).

And, like, I know they're two different words because zhū and zhǔ aren't the same. But also, I chose to use Zhīzhǔ because it's close to Shizun (师尊 - Shī zūn), both of which mean master, though Shizun is teacher-master and Zhizhu is lord-master, the latter of which, when using a different word, is also Zhizhu (spider).

FUCK I'm good. Coincidences are on my side on this one.

...Also, if they were to mispronounce his title, he could also be Pearl/Bead of the Green Forest (綠林之珠 - Lùlín Zhīzhū), which I think is cute.

---

The demoness does not take kindly to one of her guards being killed.

In retaliation, she demands that the demon guards use their full power to capture and imprison him.

However, Shen Yuan has not been living and growing for...who knows how many years...without preparing for eventually finding himself in a battle with more intelligent beings than the typical monster.

Using his legs as toothpicks, he stabs each little morsel she sends his way, setting some aside as his little minion spiders wrapped them up to eat later and eating others immediately.

His carapace is quite strong, and his eyes, though lidless, aren't mere weak points some game character could mash until he was destroyed. He has near 360 degree vision with almost blind spots unless he just really isn't paying attention. And since he's paying attention, he makes sure that, even if they haven't hit him yet, he sprays webs to disable the more spiritually-inclined demons staying further back.

When a stronger one approaches, he scuttles out of range, large but extremely mobile. After all, he's covered his entire neck of the woods in his webs, whether visible or nearly imperceivable to the naked human (or demon) eye.

He started as an orb weaver, but over the years, he's adapted to different styles of webs. It's a requirement of the strong to adapt to their surroundings, after all.

Eventually, most of the guards are reduced to little web-covered bags, wriggling futilely to escape, and the demoness, with a few remaining soldiers, cowers as her continued orders start to sputter out.

With a few calculated maneuvers, he causes the presence of the humans to slip from their minds, eventually concealing them in a corner with protective webs. So, even if it occurred to any of them to attempt to use human hostages, they were now out of sight. And taking their eyes off the very real threat in front of them was incredibly unwise, anyway.

Webs thicken. Bodies hang in strong, thick, grey sacks. Little spiders with even smaller legs team together, following under a single spider's orders.

Shen Yuan strategically spins something between a funnel and a sheet web, trapping the remaining demons within. Fire-retardant as his webs are, even trying to burn them proves futile.

The demoness, her guard captain, and the last three demon guards watch in visible terror, squirming deliciously. He's used quite a bit of silk, so he's feeling hungry. Watching them twitch tickles a little part in his brain that says he should bundle them up, nice and tight...

Would he eat them now? Or, perhaps, he should save them for later. Little morsels, qi and blood thrumming through their veins, physical and spiritual.

He lowers himself into the funnel he made, his limbs stretching out, reaching for them.

Surely, they will be—

"...T...There once was a demon..."

Shen Yuan stops suddenly, his legs twitching.

The guard general clears his throat.

"There once was a demon, long ago, who fell in love with a human. A cultivator."

Oh. A story.

Yes.

Yes, Shen Yuan likes stories.

Clearing the hungering fog from his mind, he pulls back, limbs curling in as he watches intently. Listening.

The demon general tells the story of the ill-fated demon and their love for a cultivator. By all intents and purposes, it seemed it was destined to be one-sided.

However, when the cultivator discovers the demon, it turns out she recognizes him. The demon in the story had once saved the human cultivator, and, desiring power, she pursued cultivation so she could stand side-by-side with the demon one day.

They spent many centuries together. But then, the cultivator was made into a god. Drawn up to the celestial realm, the cultivator left the demon behind, and the demon cried out in anguish.

Hatred stewed in the demon's heart over the cultivator's broken promise, and he shot up toward the heavens, ripping into the celestial realm, even as the spiritual qi poisoned him. He ripped and tore through heavenly beings and gods alike, finally coming face-to-face with the goddess that abandoned him.

However, the demon, who still loved the goddess despite it all, could not bring himself to kill her. So, he jumped down from the celestial realm, returning to the demon realm.

Having spent so much time killing gods and spiritual creatures, he was forever altered by the experience. Spiritual qi polluted his body, but he adapted to it, having spent so much time with the cultivator and learning her ways. Determined to not die from qi poisoning, he circulated the spiritual qi and demonic qi, meshing them until it became his own.

Thus, he became the first Heavenly Demon. A demon not even the gods could deny.

That phrase...ah.

Ah, yes. He's heard that term before. From the story he couldn't forget.

Something about this story, about the origin of heavenly demons, didn't sound quite right. A little nigging at the back of his mind. But now wasn't the time to ponder on that too much.

"Hmm... A very interesting story. Of promises broken and power gained. From where did you hear such a tale?"

"My...mother. Used to tell this one of the story," the general stiltedly replies.

"Is it accurate?"

"As far as he knows."

"Very good. This spider very much liked it."

He crawls up higher and begins tearing into the makeshift funnel. Other smaller spiders also begin to tear it apart, unraveling it enough in one spot that something of a door split open in the thick weaving.

"He shall let this group of demons go as thanks for the quality and depth of the story."

But, as the guard captain begins to bow, the little demon princess speaks up, her voice shaking.

"Wait! You! You said you'd make a dress for Li-er!"

Shen Yuan tilts his body, much like one would tilt their head.

"The miss seems to misunderstand. This spider has decided to show her and the remainder of her entourage grace for the quality of the story told to him. However, the story was not only told by the guard captain, but it served as repayment. The story was an expense owed, not one given in return for something else."

He lowers himself closer to the ground, hanging lazily by a single gleaming thread, what little wounds he had already closed and scarred over. The other spiders move around, once again revealing the sky, which has grown naturally dark. The moonlight shines off his round, focused eyes.

"The miss told a story when she arrived. A hateful little tale. About how I, the one recognized as lord of the forest he helped grow, had committed a slight against a nameless little demoness for bestowing gifts upon those who asked for them appropriately. This little miss threatened me, in my domain, with slavery and servitude, to be treated as little more than a slavering beast good only for the produce of its body."

His fangs flex, and she steps back.

"And so, this spider was slighted. Severely. And in return, this spider began to take. And take. And take some more. To take what was owed to me, with due interest."

The withered body of Shen Yuan's first victim lies crumpled on the ground.

"This spider was merely rectifying your sin."

The guard captain extends an arm in front of the lady, but he keeps his gaze low, not daring to look him directly in the eyes.

"...But this guard was wise. He paid this spider with a marvelous story that appeased this one very much. And so, not only has this one decided to let him live, but he's decided to let the little miss and the rest of her guards live as well. A steal, one could say. Five, for the price of one."

He chuckles, light, airy, and rumbling all the same.

"Tell this lord, guard captain. Has this one not been quite magnanimous?"

The captain swallowed thickly, then he lowered himself to one knee. The remaining guards, the ones not bleeding out or cocooned, swiftly followed suit, smelling deliciously of tears, sweat, fear, and salt.

"The Great Spider has been most gracious to us. We thank him for his mercy."

"See," Shen Yuan says, fangs flexing in a poor mockery of a smile. "He understands well."

The little demon princess looks around her, seeming to finally get out of her head and understand what she was dealing with. Her fingers then clutch into her dress, nearly ripping it with her nails... But she slowly lets go, then tucks her hands into her sleeves as she gives a slight bow.

"...Li-er...understands. Thanking this...the Great Spider...for his guidance."

"Hmmh."

Shen Yuan starts losing interest quite quickly. Ruoxing and Miyun are still hiding behind the web he made for them, and with it being dark, they need to head home soon. It's past time to wrap this up.

"This one is a bit surprised this has all turned out the way it has. No demon has been so disrespectful toward me in quite some time. Though, this one supposes, if he knows not your name or title, he shan't expect you to know his. But worry not, worry not. Tis now water under the bridge.

"Though, it is quite late now... Since you no longer owe this spider your lives, perhaps we can barter on much better terms now."

"What would you ask of us, Great Spider?" the guard captain asks.

"The humans you brought with you. Return them to their village. They've garnered this spider's favor, so he shan't tolerate any harm coming to them. This forest can be quite thick and treacherous at night."

"And...in return?"

"The miss shall have her dress."

See? Isn't he so kind?

Miyun won't have to go back home, being led by spiders she's clearly terrified of judging by how she's kept her eyes quite firmly shut for the last few minutes. Ruoxing can show his superiority by helping her get home, even after being attacked by demons. And the little demon princess can have the dress she wanted! Everyone ends up happy.

"...How long should we wait for the dress, if this lowly one may ask?"

"Oh, it should be done by the time you return tonight. This spider wouldn't imagine you all being welcome to rest amongst the humans after such a debacle."

The guard captain doesn't reply, instead looking toward the demon princess. She purses her lips, but eventually, she responds.

"Then, Li-er shall guide the humans home and return. Does the Great Spider need this one's measurements?"

"No. This one has had quite enough time looking at you to acquire them."

Her lip twitch as some indignation returns to her expression. "Should Li-er take this as an expression of lechery?"

"Not at all. Doesn't the young miss also marvel at her food before consuming it?"

As though remembering she was, indeed, almost eaten, she finally shuts right up.

--

The demons do, indeed, return Miyun and Ruoxing home without incident. Perhaps it was because he had his little helpers trail them the entire time, waiting for even a single slip-up or twitch toward taking their anger out on them. Thankfully, they've lost enough lives that day and don't intend to lose any more.

When they return, as promised, Shen Yuan presents the demon princess with a qixiong ruqun, using yellow and other pastels to complement her pink skin (he's been getting into dyes more recently, and he has the fruit to do it). She is immediately enamored by it, but her gaze trails to the webs and the splatters of blood on the ground, and any overt excitement is immediately quenched.

Shen Yuan doesn't feel bad for her, not really. He does feel some sympathy, but lacks any empathy for her situation. If she'd simply come and told a story for her dress, no blood would've had to been spilled, and no lives would've had to be lost.

The dress, which could've simply been paid for with a story, was paid for in blood that wasn't her own. And she would have to face any ire from demons whose family members failed to return due to her own foolishness.

After showing them to the other route, the one that doesn't pass by the village (the one where he's greeted the occasional passing demon), he sends them on their way.

He doesn't expect to see them again, but the little demon princess comes back to commission more clothing, approaching the demon route entrance to his general domain. And this time, she comes with stories.

He comes to learn her name, Xu Meili (许 美丽 - Xǔ Měilì). She's the fourth daughter of some demon general serving a higher lord, but she's basically the equivalent of some human noble, not that Shen Yuan would say that.

Apparently, upon seeing him, they were under the impression he really was just some beast, unaware he was Lulin Zhizhu.

Demons were generally seen as more respectable if they had a more bipedal, humanoid appearance. After all, many weaker demons would cultivate for centuries just to acquire a human form, from huli jing to demonic plants. The fact Shen Yuan still wore a quite monstrous appearance would fool most supposedly decent demons into thinking him a mindless creature.

It also didn't help that, although Lulin Zhizhu was known in little whispers around certain demon communities, for him to be worshiped as a god by humans, they thought he would surely have a human form.

Though, as Xu Meili explained with trepidation, she wasn't using that as an excuse, but merely explaining what she'd thought. That, Shen Yuan could appreciate. As long as she learned her lesson and didn't waste anyone else's lives with her misunderstandings.

Speaking with her, the demon guard general, and other visiting demons helped him immensely. Their stories, while often more bloody and teeming with resentment, were just as pleasing, if not sometimes more so. When he was in a particularly vindictive mood, a demon's story often settled better than something lighter, more forgiving, and human.

He also gained better insight into demon culture... And the fact demons weren't exactly sure how to categorize him. His qi wasn't exactly spiritual, but it wasn't exactly demonic either. In fact, it was that strange mixture of qi that led the demon guard captain to tell the story about heavenly demons.

He was under the impression the spider perhaps was one.

Unsure whether to confirm or deny, Shen Yuan didn't do either. After all, he was pretty sure he wasn't a heavenly demon, but honestly? He didn't know.

So, he'd let the rumor mill roll on that one. Not that he left his forest anyway. Never really saw a reason to get out much when the spiritual and demonic beasts trailing through the forest were plenty enough to fill his stomach. He also had visiting villagers and demons to sate his desire for knowledge. Being a homebody suited him just fine.

--

Han Miyun (韩 蜜韫 - Hán Mìyùn) couldn't quite shake her fear of spiders, so she didn't come back to see him. That being said, it wasn't as though she wasn't grateful. Ruoxing came to visit several times after, seeming even more chummy with Shen Yuan than before, carrying baskets full of mantou and a scroll with a story she wanted to tell him.

When he asked what she wanted of him, Ruoxing said she wanted nothing, and it was simply a gift.

Feeling uncomfortable receiving something without giving in return, he sent Ruoxing back with fruit and qi-infused grass.

This apparently set off a give-a-thon, as Ruoxing swiftly became a willing pack mule between Miyun and Shen Yuan.

"You know, Zhizhu, perhaps you could come out of the forest and visit," Ruoxing hums one day.

Although Shen Yuan's cephalothorax doesn't lend well to expressions, apparently, he had a *look* in his eyes that made the young man fall over laughing.

"You don't have to reject it so strongly! I understand, I understand!"

"This one didn't say anything."

"Forgive me for being impudent, but, Zhizhu, you looked like a cat facing the sea just now."

Listen, it wasn't that Shen Yuan hated the idea of leaving the forest, okay? He simply liked where he was, surrounded by little spider servants that benefited from the fruits of his prior labor and served him in return. He had food, shelter, and visitors. What more could he want?

Traveling to new places...did kinda sound nice But then who would be there to exchange food for storieeessss the spiders could do that. They could. The little ones could possibly take written works and exchange them for other items, like silk, clothes, leather, or whatever else was available.

But still, he could've very well trudge around in his big spider body. That was just begging for every cultivator under the Sun to try to exorcise him or something. He'd have to cultivate a humanoid form. And he...

Did not...really want to?

Mmh.

For some reason, whenever he thinks of a humanoid body... More accurately, of himself within a humanoid body, he thinks of a compressed chest. Of weak limbs. Of heavy breathing, white walls, and monotonous beeping.

He thinks of breaking out in rashes from poor air conditions. Of laying on the floor in a porcelain room, trying to absorb the coolness to combat the heat ravaging his body. Of using some sort of device to support a weakened left leg because his heart wouldn't work right...

Yes. A humanoid body would surely be uncomfortable.

If that meant he had to stay right where he was, so be it.

--

Time passes like that, with demons becoming more frequent visitors on their side and the humans doing what they've always done.

The spiders, although still smaller and with lesser power than he has, seem to be developing more thoughts of their own. Although utterly loyal to him, they also begin acting on their on imperative if he hasn't given them any orders.

One of his older servants, a jumping spider, seemed to take on something of a managerial role. After molting several times, growing larger, and gaining more intelligence, she began collecting stories and making exchanges based on previous examples of his habits.

As it turned out, she had developed a demon core already? Well, it wasn't quite a demon core. She had mostly spiritual qi instead of demonic qi, so she was more suitable for communing with humans.

It seemed that, due to the very instinctual drives they had, coupled with typically being reviled by humans, developing to such an extent was a rarity (of course, that meant Shen Yuan was an outright cryptid).

Through some quiet understanding between them, Shen Yuan ended up naming her. She seemed to accept the name Zhuzi (珠子 - Zhūzǐ - Little Pearl) well enough.

She's rather helpful, especially when someone arrives with a story but he's already occupied with someone else. It doesn't happen often, but with both humans and demons now associating with him more frequently, as infrequently as that can be, having someone else help does wonders.

Fan Zhenzhen visits from time to time, sometimes to tell stories, other times to simply be around him. Sometimes, she'll ask questions about a plant, animal, or some other thing she's seen or heard of.

Of course, Shen Yuan doesn't mind simply sharing knowledge. With all the fantastical creatures in the world, he's quite charmed by them, so talking about them is time well spent. Especially for someone like him, who is simply a spider and doesn't have a job.

As she grows older, she comes to visit a bit less. A little disheartening, yes, but he understands. It makes the times he does see her all the more meaningful.

Fan Ruoxing grows older, and eventually, he marries Han Miyun. He arrives the day before his wedding and gives him a cup of sweetened black tea. It's so small, it's barely anything to him. It tastes fantastic regardless. Shen Yuan sends him off with a wedding gift basket of fresh vegetables, spices, and a poncho shawl to match Miyun's.

On the day-of, Shen Yuan sits in his cave, feeling a bit unsettled.

It's not like he really wants to be down in the village. He likes his quiet, relative solitude. Moreover, what human would want a huge spider at their wedding with their arachnophobic wife? He'd be nothing but a disturbance.

Zhuzi, who ventured out with her smaller, less conspicuous body, watched the wedding from the nearby tree line. He silently gave her more Thrice-Bloomed Yuzu after she relayed the festivities to him.

She did the same thing when Fan Ruoxing's first daughter came into the world.

100 days later, he, Miyun, and Meixiu (美宿 - Měixiù) came to visit, although Miyun was never once able to look up. Even still, after telling him a story, Shen Yuan blesses their child, hoping that her life is as bright and plentiful as the 'beautiful constellations' in the night sky.

He also gives them some of the same yuzu he would give Zhuzi, though he directs them to dilute it. After all, it's very qi-rich and could be a bit much for her developing spiritual veins. Fan Meixiu had the spiritual strength and potential to become a cultivator, after all.

A year and a few months later, and they visit with their second and third children, twins. Qinglian (轻莲 - Qīnglián) and Jiahao (家豪 - Jiāháo) didn't quite have the same spiritual potential, but Shen Yuan wished they would lead meaningful, fruitful lives nevertheless.

With more mouths to feed and more care to give, visits to him become less frequent. Again, quite disappointing, but to be expected.

The same goes for the little demon princess, Xu Meili. Some demon politics and intrigue take up more of her time, and despite being one of nine children, the fourth daughter, eighth out of the nine, she was the one who apparently found the most auspicious husband. This was, according to her, partially due to her many spider silk clothes.

Since she was going quite far away to be with her husband, future correspondence would dwindle. But she does, in that rough tone of hers that she could never quite get rid of, tell him that he would be welcome if he ever decided to step out of his "resplendent hovel".

And so, for the first time in years, Shen Yuan finds himself without his typical visitors.

And he feels alone.

...hmmh.

Maybe cultivating a humanoid body wouldn't be the worst thing to do.

----

For future parts, see the Masterpost (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

Masterpost

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3: here

[yandere-daydreams]

file #2: the amputation fic.

part of the FREAK SHIT MARCH evidence packet.

pairing: yandere!gojo satoru x reader (jjk).

length: 2.9k.

warnings: non/con, amputation, unhealthy relationships, abusive relationships, obsessive behavior, amputation (no injury to reader in fic), handjobs, masturbation, and unbalanced power dynamics.

“Babydoll? You wanna let me in?”

A beat of silence, a light knock. You stayed where you were, crumpled on the bathroom floor, and Satoru sighed.

“C’mon, angel. I can’t help from all the way out here.”

You clenched your bloody arm closer, pulling your knees up to your chest. An orange-tinted, half-emptied pill container sat lidless and on its side next to you. Shoko’s pills took care of the worst of the pain, but a steady, persistent throbbing had lodged itself in the knob that used to be your wrist and refused to let-up. It probably wouldn’t for the next hour, if not the next day.

“I can’t take you to see Shoko if you keep me locked out.”

At that, you relented, uncurling with from your self-made bundle. It took a second to shift yourself onto your knees, another to find the doorknob with your remaining hand, but Satoru himself in as soon as the lock clicked out of place. Thankfully, mercifully, he gave you time to skitter back to your corner before crossing the threshold, but that didn’t stop you from withering as his eyes raked over you, as he evaluated the damage. Eventually, he collapsed against the adjacent wall and sunk to the floor, letting out a raspy groan before tossing you a familiar, crooked smile. You didn’t return it. “That mad at me, huh?” You didn’t respond, gaze dropping to your decimated hand – or, rather, the mangled stump that used to be your hand. His smile wavered, but didn’t fall away. “Yeah, no, I probably deserve that. Does it hurt?”

You didn’t indulge him with an answer. “Did you call Shoko?”

“On a mission,” he said with a slight shrug, a strong note of ‘what can you do?’ in his tone. Like this was some minor inconvenience, annoying but ultimately trivial. Like like you weren’t missing an essential part of yourself. “She said she’d swing by as soon as she’s done, but I’d give it another hour. I think she’ll kill me if I keep asking her to make house calls.”

Another beat of silence, another deafening failure to respond on your part. Finally, he turned to face you properly, leaning forward. “…can I?”

He always did this – paused like that, smiled like that, tried to make himself seem so gentle, so loving, so considerate. It might’ve been well-meaning, an attempt to let you know he was sorry without having to swallow enough of his pride to actually apologize, but all it ever seemed to make you feel was cold and alone, stuck in a shell of an apartment with a shell of a man. It was always the same. It was always going to be the fucking same.

And, like always, you relented, looking away as you nodded stiltedly. Satoru’s smile brightened as he closed the distance between you, his thigh pressing into yours as he settled against your side.

When you’d first gotten into a relationship with Gojo Satoru, you told yourself that if things ever so much as seemed like they might be going south, you were gone. You hadn’t known anything about cursed energy or sorcerer hierarchies or malevolent spirits, but you didn’t have to – even if you hadn’t watched him obliterate monsters the size of apartment buildings with a snap of his fingers, he still would’ve been the strongest person you’d ever met, a man capable of shattering bones with his bare hands and breaking open skulls with all the effort it would’ve taken you to swat a fly out of the air. He was dangerous to be around, even if you doubted Satoru could ever intentionally hurt another living, breathing person. He was rich, and pretty, and strong, and used to getting his way. You loved him, but you needed to be able to leave if it ever seemed like that love was going to put you in danger.

And you did leave. The first time you argued, the first time he lost control of his temper and you were left sobbing on the floor with nothing below your left knee, you’d gotten as far as you could as quickly as you could. It’d taken him a full week to track you down, another to convince you that one of his bizarre friends could heal you, and roughly half a minute of Satoru sobbing and clinging to your (newly restored) leg for you to forgive him, to write it off as an accident – just the kind of risk you took when you got into a relationship with someone who could deadlift armored tanks. The second, you’d stayed at a friend’s place for a few days before coming back on your own, as desperate for his miracle-cure as you were for the pet comforts that came with Satoru’s bottomless fortune. The fourth, you’d barricaded yourself in his bedroom for sixteen hours and only come out for Shoko, who’d muttered about your ‘wreck of a boyfriend’ as she rebuilt the three missing fingers on your right hand.

Now, on the ninth, you’d barely managed to keep him locked out of a bathroom for all of five minutes. It was embarrassing, more than anything. You wanted to be able to hate him, you wanted to be scared of him, but it was hard to be scared of someone you loved. Someone you loved as much as Satoru, especially.

You shook your head, dragging yourself out of your own spiraling thoughts. Your attention, instead, moved to Satoru – still slumped against the tiled wall, his head lulled back and his attention focused pointedly on the ceiling. You were dressed to go out, uncomfortable jeans and all, but Satoru looked like he just rolled out of bed – a plain white shirt pulled tight over his broad chest, a pair of pitch-black sweatpants falling low on his waist, the lights dim enough to mean his piercing blue eyes didn’t have to be locked behind tinted glass or thick fabric. That was what you’d been arguing about, even if it was hard to remember why it’d seemed like such a big deal. He had the day off, no class and no cursed spirits to slaughter, and wanted to waste his morning in bed, with you wrapped in his arms. You’d tried to tell him, as slowly and as tenderly as you could, that you couldn’t, that you had an important early-morning lecture, that you’d be back by the time he actually wanted to get up, but he’d whined and pouted and you’d lost your patience when he reminded you that you could ‘always drop out’. You tried to leave, and he tried to catch your hand, to make you stay for that much longer, and—

“Can I see it?” You were almost thankful to hear his voice, if only for the distraction. “Your hand, I mean. If you’re comfortable with showing me.”

You weren’t, but you were desperate not to sink back into your own head, either. Slowly, cautiously, you shuffled that much closer to him, folding your legs underneath you as you gingerly held out the arm you’d spent the better part of the last few minutes cradling. It made you sick to look at a part of your own body so violently distorted, so violently wrong, so you didn’t – keeping your focus trained on your knees as Satoru took up your shortened limb. His own healing abilities had taken care of the worst of the gore, but even with the open, gaping wound at the end of your arm closed, there was still a ring of bruising around your wrist, streaks of dried blood running down the length of your forearm, a raw quality to the skin where his hap-hazard repairs hadn’t quite taken. His touch was feather-light, skirting around the worst of the remaining damage and lingering near your elbow, then your bicep. Acknowledgement came in the form of a low whistle, an airy sigh. You tried not to let his casualness get to you. Sorcerers must’ve seen injuries like this all the time. This was the end of the world for you, but Satoru would be just fine. “I’m not going to let you lift a finger after this. You know that, right? I’ve gotta make sure my pretty baby’s still nice n’ spoiled, even when I go and fuck everything up.”

It wasn’t an apology, but it was as close as he’d ever get. You grit your teeth and nodded, taking a second to find your voice. Even with the delay, it came out as a croak; almost too low and too ragged to be coherent. “This can’t keep happening, ‘toru. I love you, but this can’t keep happening.”

“I know, baby, I know.” One of his hands remained wrapped around your arm while the other, unoccupied, fell between his open legs. “I don’t mean to. If I had it my way, nobody would be able to touch you, but…” A pause, a laugh. “I just get so stressed out when we start fighting, like that. All I can think about is someone hurting you when I’m not there to keep you safe, and I forget how delicate I’ve gotta be with you. It feels like I’m not in control of myself.”

Despite your better judgement, you felt a deep, churning well of guilt open up inside of you. It was your turn to sigh, now, to slump, to let your eyes fall shut. “I love you,” you repeated, like it was the only thing you knew how to say. “It’s just— It scares me, when you get like that. I know you’re just trying to be protective, but it hurts.”

You heard his breathing pick-up, his grip tighten ever so slightly. Not enough to hurt, but enough to feel. “I know, sweetheart. I’m just trying to take care of you.”

“You do take care of me, but—” You were cut off by a breathy swear, a throat groan. Momentarily, your fear and self-loathing gave way to irritation, a frown tugging at the corner of your lips as you opened your eyes and snapped towards Satoru. He was still focused on your arm – what was left of it, at least – but his gaze was glazed over, far away, and his hand was moving between his—

You put it together too quickly, the force of the realization leaving no time for numbing shock or dampening confusion. He was touching himself, grinding the heel of his palm into the base of his cock. You could see the outline of his shaft against the dark material – already half-hard, if not worse.

If you’d been able to feel anything, you might’ve felt sick.

Reflexively, you tried to pull away from him, but his hold on your arm only tightened, fingertips digging into your bicep as Satoru laughed, the sound strained and airy. “Sorry, sorry, my bad. I know you like a head’s up, but…” Now, he looked at you, but it was too late, too much, too sudden. All you could seem to think to do was gape back at him, unmoving and unthinking. “Guess it’s just what you do to me. I’ll try to make it quick – all you’ve gotta do is sit there and look pretty.”

It was a familiar line, a familiar excuse. You’d heard it a thousand times – mumbled into your neck as draped himself over you in the early hours of the morning, spouted off as he dragged you back to his car halfway through dinner at a restaurant you’d been looking forward to visiting for months – but it didn’t seem to make sense, this time, didn’t fit with the image of your missing hand hovering a few inches above your loving boyfriend’s erection. The dissonance only seemed to get worse, more dizzying as he shrugged the waistband of his sweats past his hips and down to his thighs, freeing his stiff cock. You’d been too generous, before; he was already hard, his tip flushed a dark pink and leaking thick beads of arousal. Again, you tried to get away, and again, he only pulled you closer, until your side was flush against his. There was a deep grunt, a hazy grin as he wrapped a fist around the shaft of his cock, his grip almost painfully tight. His eyes never left the dull stump on the end of your left arm, his raspy breathing soon turning to a deep, heady panting as you watched him pump his fist over his cock, his pace slow and methodical – a far cry from the spontaneous, erratic Satoru you were used to. A soft voice in the back of your mind, awful and treacherous, suggested that he might be trying to savor it, and a dozen more screamed loudly enough to drown it out.

“Satoru,” you said, nearly surprising yourself with how distant you sounded, how detached. You didn’t feel detached. If anything, you almost felt too grounded in the feeling of cool tile against your back, the heat of his body where it pressed into yours. “Please, stop.”

“I don’t really have a choice, babe.” He shot you a playful grin, and for a second, you could almost imagine hating him. “It’d go a lot faster if you helped me out, though.”

You didn’t answer, but he didn’t need you to. His hand was already groping for yours, already forcing your reluctant participation. The position was awkward, your body half-bent over his, but when you shifted, Satoru’s thumb dug into the bone of your wrist and instantly, you went still. This was bad. Not having control of your only remaining hand was bad. But having your only remaining hand taken away from you would be worse.

Satoru didn’t seem to see it that way. Sounds of aching pleasure bubbled past his lips shamelessly, turning the abruptly claustrophobic bathroom into an echo chamber of pitchy whines and raspy groans and the slick, wet clicks of his cock fucking into your balled fist. It was terrible – being able to feel how his cock pulsed against your palm, being forced to acknowledge the little, stilted movements of his hips whenever he decided your (admittedly lackluster) pace left something to be desired. In less than a minute, his head had lulled onto your shoulder, his voice muffled by the proximity as he struggled to speak in spite of his own unabashed moaning. “Love you so much,” he half-mumbled, half-panted. You could feel his breath against your shoulder, his drool starting to pool just above your collarbone. “W-wanna take care of you when you can’t take care of yourself, make sure nobody else ever gets to put their hands on you. I’d be good – cook for you, n’ shower with you, ‘n dress you up all nice n’ pretty,” He paused, nuzzled into the crook of your neck. “You… You wouldn’t hate me that much if we left it that way, right?”

You felt something drop into the pit of your stomach. “Satoru, you’re—”

“Please, baby.” It was the same tone he used when he was begging you to make a late-night snack run with him, or when he wanted to finish inside of you without protection. “Just—Just tell me that you’d let me take care of you. Just say that you’d still love me.”

It felt like your throat was swollen shut, your chest stuffed to bursting with shattered glass and razor blades and spiny needles only just beginning to poke through your skin. You didn’t want to say anything, you didn’t think you could say anything, and yet, when your mouth fell open, you found a voice that was not your own seeping out by means beyond your control. “It’s alright,” you muttered, distantly, as his cock throbbed in your hand. “I’d still love you, ‘toru.”

Although, you were starting to wish you wouldn’t.

You heard him groan, felt something thick and searing spill over the back of your hand. Satoru’s hand, cupped snuggly over yours, kept you moving until every last drop had been milked out of him, until the final ember of his climax had burnt itself out. He went limp against you, his vice-grip finally falling away, but rather than run, you only straightened, wiping your hand on your jeans before tucking it into your lap. How you looked didn’t matter, anymore.  There couldn’t have been more than a few minutes left in your lecture, if you hadn’t already missed it entirely.

Silence interrupted only by panting breaths and the beating, drowning drum playing in your ears reigned over the confined space, keeping you in a state of bleary stasis until the sound of a sharp knock, shortly followed by a distant door opening broke through the fog. “That’s Shoko,” Satoru murmured, almost disappointed. He started to separate himself from you, only to relapse – burying his face in the crook of your neck and letting out a deep, contented sigh. “You know that I love you, right?”

“I know.”

“And you know that all I wanna do is keep you happy?”

“I know, ‘toru.”

“Good.” He pulled back, grinning. “’cause all I ever wanna do is take care of my angel. Don’t let anything ‘side from that get into your pretty little head.”

You only nodded as he pushed himself to his feet, as he slipped out of the bathroom to meet Shoko, to explain what vital part of yourself he’d torn away this time. You wanted to get up, to wash the cum off of your hand, to pump feeling back into your numb legs, but your remaining limbs were uncooperative, heavy and awkward and useless. It was all you could do to pull your knees up to your chest, wrap your arms around your legs, and hold yourself as you started to cry.

At least, next time Satoru decided to tear you apart, you might not find it so hard to hate him for it.

[xelitzenith]

So I'm pretty sure wally has Albrecht and Albrecht is currently being assimilated.

Ffffuck.