#this is a blog for my thoughts it’s not about being a messenger

[ohnoitsnuance]

As someone who thinks voting in the US elections is you can is important to do, I think shaming people who decide not to vote due to moral reasons isn’t a good idea for the following:

1. Shame is a shit motivator. It’s not effective and it doesn’t work.

2. People choosing not to vote for moral reasons are doing so because they feel the Democratic Party has let them down or ignored their concerns (and often it has done both of these things, it’s not JUST a feeling) aren’t going to change their mind because people continue to ignore their concerns and perspective.

3. It’s not productive. There are plenty of people who A. Aren’t sure if they want to vote and are open to hearing multiple perspectives and B. Want to vote but don’t know how to get there/register/vote by mail. The time people spend here yelling at one non-voter would be far better spent addressing dozens of group A or B.

4. Unless someone is actively spreading disinformation on how to vote (like saying you can vote by phone), leaving these folks alone is frankly a better call strategically (and I think morally. A lot of the time the disagreement here comes down among other things to strategy, and I don’t think limiting ourselves to one strategy is wise unless that strategy actively hurts people).

Anyway I’m sure few will like this take, but hey that’s why it’s the nuance blog.

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

taglist (dm me or send an ask to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina, @keiva1000

please consider leaving a comment, sending an ask, or reblogging! interacting with authors is the best way to support them! thanks for reading ♡

[chaotic-birds]

hi!! i saw you wanted to write fluff and i love your work! i was wondering if you could write a jasonxfem!reader on their wedding day, like getting ready and just being sweet and dopey.

(i tried to send this in earlier but it said it didn’t work so if you already got an ask like this is was from me 🙏🏼)

im so sorry about how late this is but tysm for sending something in! and ty for loving my work 🥺

TW reader has she/her pronouns, one rated r joke (tho its tame aha) | WC 1.5k | G fluff

this blog is 18+. minors do not interact. plz & ty!

masterlist

Jason is usually not one for superstitions, so you were surprised at how adamant he was about not seeing each other until the altar. Nevertheless, that didn’t stop him from designating Dick as his messenger.

“Dude, seriously? This is your seventh note to her,” Dick scoffs at the folded paper in his hand.

Jason looks at his brother through the mirror while fixing his tie for the tenth time.

“And there’ll be an eighth, so stop bitching and go give it to her.”

Dick grumbles, mumbling curses as he huffs out of the room.

“You know, you could just wait and tell her whatever it is in person,” Tim comments.

“And you could just mind your business,” Jason replies.

Jason notices Tim pursing his lips; he’s no doubt repressing his snarky comeback due to it being Jason’s big day.

The sound of the door opening makes Jason snap his head in that direction. Is Dick already back with your note?

Stephanie walks in, a big smile on her face.

“I thought wedding days were supposed to be filled with happiness. What’s up, grouch?” Stephanie questions.

Jason releases a big sigh and turns to face her.

With a pout, he answers, “My tie keeps looking weird.”

She laughs. “You really are nervous, huh?”

Stephanie comes to stand in front of him, undoing his tie.

“Can you blame me? Things don’t exactly go well for us, and I need this day to go well.”

“Is that why there’s a gun in your jacket?” Damian pipes in.

Jason shrugs. He’d feel naked without it.

Stephanie flattens the tie against his chest then taps him to confirm she’s done. Jason turns to the mirror again, overanalyzing the article of clothing. It still doesn’t feel right, but he guesses it never will.

“Thanks,” Jason mutters.

Dick walks back into the room, holding up a small piece of paper.

Jason eagerly meets him halfway and snatches the item from his hand.

You’re unbelievable, Jay. Ditching is not an option! I’ll see you soon xoxo (:

Jason grins at your scribbling. He can tell you’re in a rush and wonders if you’re as nervous as him.

There’s less than an hour to go, and he can’t tell if time is moving too fast or too slow. He just knows he’s ready to say I do.

There was a time when Jason believed a day like this would just be a fantasy. He never thought he’d wear a ring on his left hand. Never thought he’d find a home in a person.

But he’s so glad he did.

Jason stares at you with a smile so large it makes his cheeks hurt. However, he feels it can’t be helped. He’s buzzing with overwhelming joy.

Though, despite that, there’s the ever-present dark cloud above his head, threatening to shower him with self-deprecating thoughts. Thoughts that he wishes he could overcome, but somehow they keep sprouting. The most consistent out of them all is that he’s not deserving of—

“Jay?”

He turns his face and his gaze finds yours. They’re analyzing his features.

“What’s going on up there?” you whisper, sitting at their table at the front of the room. Everyone around them is eating.

It’s then he realizes his smile has faded, leaving behind a dejected expression.

You raise a hand to rub at one of his temples, not wanting to mess up his hair.

“Sorry,” he sighs. His eyes close briefly. When he opens them, you’re still staring at him.

“I love you,” he blurts. “I love you so much.”

You grin widely, hand dropping to grab his.

“I know.” You steal a kiss and squeeze his hand.

Jason opens his mouth to ask if you love him but stops. Out of all the places, all the events, this one should be a clear beacon of how much you love him.

As if reading his thoughts, you lean in and hug him.

It takes everything in him not to pull you into his lap and cuddle you like a stuffed animal.

“You’re the best man I know,” you say close to his ear. “You’re caring, thoughtful, funny, a little bit of a smartass,” you pause to chuckle, “and deserving.”

You pull away but keep a hand on his shoulder blade.

“And not only do I love you, but so does everyone in this room,” you continue. “I couldn’t have married a better man. You’re mine, Jason Todd. You know that?”

Jason hates crying. He hates it even more when it happens in public. But for fucks sake, he can’t stop the two tears that glide down his cheeks.

You kiss one and wipe the other.

“There’s darkness in us all, but focus on the light. Focus on us.”

Jason nods. His heart is beating rapidly from your sweet words.

“I was only supposed to cry at the altar,” he mutters, trying to bring some humor—some light—back into the atmosphere.

You smile. He can tell you’re recalling his tears as he watched you descend the aisle.

“Guess it means you’re a bigger crybaby than me,” you tease. Sure, you’ve shed a tear or fifteen, but not as much as Jason.

“We’ll see about that,” he huffs but there’s a smile on his lips. “The night’s not over.”

“No, it is not, little bro,” a voice joins the conversation as a hand slaps down on Jason’s other shoulder roughly.

Dick grins down at Jason. There’s something in it that’s wicked.

Dick turns, retrieves the microphone from the DJ booth, then walks back. The music lowers.

“Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, it’s time to start the fun,” Dick announces into the mic.

The room quiets as people’s attention shifts.

“I’d like to congratulate the lovely couple and share a few words,” he pauses to glance at Jason. “And you bet your zombie ass, I’ll be telling embarrassing stories too.”

Jason narrows his eyes at Dick, but one simple kiss from you on his cheek has him wilting in his chair.

He’s so done for.

Jason is perfectly content watching you on the dance floor from afar. But oh, that won’t do.

From being tossed from Stephanie to Dick, to Duke, to even Damian, he’s had his fair share of time away from his chair. A chair that his feet desperately miss.

“Woah, hey there, handsome,” you smile when you catch him. He sends Cass a glare as he stumbles after she made him spin.

“How are you still standing?” he groans, his hands finding their rightful place on your waist.

You shrug. “I’m surprised you’ve been dancing for so long.”

“I didn’t really have a choice,” he grumbles.

He watches you peep over his shoulder and giggle–no doubt seeing his family laugh.

Jason loves your giggles.

“I’m glad you didn’t. I liked watching you shake your little hips,” you joke and wiggle him as if to reenact his moves.

Jason groans louder and grips your waist tighter.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” he almost whines.

You pull him closer, whispering, “I rather be under you.”

Jason stops breathing for a moment. A bunch of thoughts fill his head, none of which are appropriate for a public setting.

You pull away, sending him a wink before scurrying off to who knows where. Jason watches you go. He wants to go after you, but truthfully, it’s better if he doesn’t. Or else, he might just find a secluded spot and turn his thoughts into reality.

Jason lets out a deep sigh and runs his fingers through his hair.

“Already can’t keep up?”

Jason turns to see Bruce at his side, eyeing you as you stop at your friends’ table. You throw your head back, laughing loudly as if no one can ruin your mood. You catch Bruce’s stare and smile sweetly—as if you didn’t just whisper something vulgar to Jason a second ago.

Bruce laughs softly, then directs his focus on Jason. He gives him a pat on the back like he’s done so many times before.

“I’m happy for you,” he says. “You’ve done well for yourself, son.”

Bruce gives Jason a genuine, big smile. It’s not one he sees much from him.

Jason nods. He may still have unresolved issues with the man, but there’s no mistaking the care and pride in his eyes.

“Thanks,” Jason says. He would say more, but he’s never been much of a talker… well, a sappy talker.

Bruce understands and gives him one more pat before he walks back to his table.

Jason takes one long sweep across the room. He takes in the pretty decorations and the smiling faces. He sees people who have been by his side through rough times and, now, one of his happiest.

His eyes land on you last.

You’re so beautiful that his heart churns.

Jason can feel the dark cloud forming above his head. He can hear the faint sound of thunder.

He shakes his head.

No.

Not today.

He won’t stand in the storm. He won’t be showered in doubt. If he were to be showered, he wanted it to be with your love.

Ignoring the thunder and drizzle, he moves away from the storm and makes a beeline for you.

Here, with his hand around your waist, there is sunshine and chirping birds. Here, there is happiness.

Here, there is love.

©️chaotic-birds // DO NOT REPOST OR MODIFY Please consider reblogging if you liked this work to show your support. Feedback/commentary is always welcomed.

Dividers by @strangergraphics (ty!)

[bluecollarmcandtf]

Ask me Anything...

Today seems just like any other boring day, slaving away in the office, but something different is about to happen. The steady hum of fluorescent lights is broken by the squeaky sound of wheels rolling up behind you. Someone is visiting your cubicle...

"Dude, you ok?" you ask, startled by the sorry state of your coworker.

His name is John. He started working here a month before you did, but he's always labeled you as "the new guy." He's really annoying about it, but you've never complained. It's hard to get mad when you've got a crush on him. It just sucks that he's straight and always teasing you in front of the boss

"Seriously, John," you wave a hand in front of his unresponsive face, "Are you alive? You're drooling all over your shirt!"

His blank expression is unsettling, but seeing him slumped over in his seat like a lifeless sex doll is turning you on. You can't help but stare at the parted lips or the limp body. With a shudder of excitement, you notice the outline of his thick package as his slacks ride up his waist.

His prolonged silence is making you more nervous, "John? I'm starting to get worried..."

Suddenly his head jerks up! His glassy eyes stare blankly in your direction as his lips mechanically form the words, "Do not worry about this man's health. Your colleague will be returned to normal with no memory of this."

His robotic response only puts you more on edge, "John, why are you talking in the third-person?"

Before you get an answer, the man springs out of his chair and drops to the floor, sitting on his knees in front of you without a thought in his head. This can't be the John you know!

Everything about this feels unnatural and wrong. His words sound rehearsed, like they're coming from a machine in his throat. His movements are limp and uncoordinated, like they're being pulled by invisible strings. Someone has taken over your coworker!

"This body is being used as a messenger," he explains from his knees, "He is being used to announce that the Bluecollarmcandtf is now open for Asks. For a short time, you can use the Ask feature to request a story..."

"What!" you gasp and glance around the office nervously. You can't believe that a silly blog you follow has somehow taken over your hot coworker! What if your boss comes out and sees John on his knees in front of you? How is this even possible?

"...you can ask for anything, and Bluecollarmcandtf will bring your fantasy to life. Maybe you want someone in your life transformed. Maybe you want them controlled. Maybe you want them humiliated. Bluecollarmcandtf will take care of it for you as long as you follow him..."

Your mind is racing, and you can barely grasp what John is telling you. Mostly, you're just worried someone is going to catch sight of your coworker kneeling in front of you!

"Ok, thanks for letting me know," you grit your teeth anxiously, "Please put John back to normal now."

"...John won't go back to normal just yet," John answers numbly, "Give him commands to obey. His body is yours to boss around for the next twenty-four hours..."

"Boss John around?" you gasp, wondering what to make him do.

"You have ten seconds to give John a command. If you don't, he's going to start braying like a donkey at the top of his lungs. 10. 9. 8. 7. 6..."

"Ok! Just shut up and kiss my feet!" you blurt it out a little louder than you mean to, but at least John won't start drawing any more attention to you by acting like an animal.

John stops his countdown and lowers his face to the floor, planting a kiss on each of your fancy loafers. The funny thing is that he doesn't stop. I suppose you weren't specific enough with your command because he just keeps mindlessly switching between each shoe, making out with them like it's the most normal thing in the world.

Your mind is racing with what to do next. Already, ideas of how to humiliate him and use him are swimming through your head, but remember what he told you. Asks are open!

Don't be afraid to request taking someone else under your control. Maybe Bluecollarmcandtf could do something about that boss of yours? You'll obviously have to be careful about what you ask. Fantasies can always be misinterpreted...

[artist-issues]

You're my new favorite blog! You have no idea how I wish I could peck inside your brain like a chicken. 😭😂😂 I am a Catholic and a recovering agnostic. I struggle with letting go of my old way of life and philosophy constantly, I have been struggling with it since the day I decided to revert - that was back in 2017. (I think you would like to know my journey back to the Faith started after watching HBO's The Young Pope! 👌🏼) At this point I don't know if I'll ever be the person the Lord wants me to be, oh well, I'll die trying and I know that will mean something.

I just know I can't go back to being a non-believer, because as Carl Young said, now I don't just believe, I know. The irony is my struggle to believe in something I know to be objectively the Truth.

I have a question for you though, actually I hope for some advice from you. How do I reconcile with the reality that I haven't become who I dreamed to become (like career wise), but now that a new career has been shoved upon me (a career my parents wanted for me - and they valued safety and stability over "following my dreams" I suppose)? ...which isn't necessarily a bad thing, because it is an extremely noble profession and it pays quite well.

The thing is, as much as I try to accept my new career, I keep telling myself and to others that I'm doing this for my parents and not because I want to be here. I feel terrible about it. But, again, it's not like I am unfulfilled (I am unhappy though, but that comes with the work culture/environment, I feel like I am surrounded by 40+ year old teenagers); as a matter of fact, I do think I know - objectively - in my heart that this is exactly where the Lord wants me to be? But I keep fighting against it, keep struggling against this sense of vocational calling that I'm feeling towards my new job, instead I desperately wanna give into my want to go "live the life I want." Like throw this all away, get new training and start all over with the career I wanted all those years ago.

I want to be better, to be sacrificial like Christ on the Cross. I've always known I had a little depression (comes with my disability from a young age and this whole dream thing); I have been suicidal over this, I actually used to joke with myself that I'd kill myself if I don't achieve my professional goals by the time I turned 25. I will turn 30 this September and even though I haven't been literally dead, I feel like I've been in a vegetative state - mentally - ever since the day I turned 25. I hope that makes sense.

I started seeing a therapist 2 weeks ago since my mental health started affecting my new job - she did say I have depression and is trying to help me but I just don't know if I want to be helped at all, because I am unable to do the exercises she tells me (like create a routine, exercise well, write down good thoughts, etc.) I feel like I'm failing myself, my parents and, most importantly, my Heavenly Father.

I apologise if this is nonsensical, I apologise for dumping all of this on you - random stranger on the internet - but idk I felt like maybe you'd have something wise to tell me to knock some sense into me (without a bump to prove it hehe).

Thank you and God bless! 🥰

You’re very kind, and I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to share all this with me! I really never have anything good of my own to say, or any wisdom to offer, except what I “steal” from God…and I guess what I mean is, if I ever say anything helpful or good or true, I’m just the messenger. I didn’t come up with it. On my own I have zero wisdom or good things to offer.

Anyway, I was surprised reading this because I have gone through (been going through) a similar sort of mindset. I went to school for the career I dreamed about (still dream about) and I worked hard and I wanted it more than anybody around me (very Mike Wasowski in MU of me) and it hasn’t happened the way I planned, or in my timetable.

I mean, in all humility: I work with a studio making a tv show, but it hasn’t got off the ground yet, and I work for a company that writes movie reviews, but neither of those things pay my bills. I have a third job, working with therapists, that’s nothing like what I always wanted to do. That’s my “career,” but it’s not the career I’m passionate about and working toward. And I wonder if I’ll ever do anything “major” in the line of work I love and went to school for. And when I do, I have gotten into some really dark mental places.

Forgive me for not using the words “depression” or “suicidal.” I hate using those words because they’re overused and romanticized and flooding the culture. But more importantly I hate using them because the only thing I identify with is Christ, not any mental struggle I try to slither back into, like a snake trying to put back on old skin. I’m not my overthinking—I’m not my depression—I’m not my suicidal thoughts or emotions—I am one with Christ. Those are things inside me that are defeated and dead—the teeth have been knocked out of them. They just gum me from time to time. So I want you to know I empathize with you, but that’s my point and that’s how I want to answer you:

The only thing about you that really matters is Christ.

Who He says you are, what He has done and how He lived, which is applied to you because He said it is, by grace alone, through faith alone. No matter how you feel.

And I say that to you, as the answer, because I think you and I focus too much on what could be and what “should be” as if God has a set path for us, and if we don’t figure out what it is and walk it, we’ll have a less-fulfilling life. “If I stay at my therapy job and just work with teenagers and write on my blog for the rest of my life, I’ll be fine, but I won’t be as good as I could be.” Or for you. “If I stay in this career I’m in, the one my parents backed me into, I’ll make it, I’ll be fine, but I’ll never be as happy as I want to be.” We’re both thinking, every once in a while, “This is career is what God wants for me, and all my misery is coming from not submitting to it, and if I could just wrestle my contentment into place and give up the thing I want, and submit to what God wants, I’d be fulfilled.”

But how do we know any of those thoughts are true? How do we know God wants us in these boring old careers we wouldn’t have chosen—didn’t choose? Or, how do we know these boring old careers are what we’re stuck in because we didn’t take the plunge and work harder for our “dreams,” which were what He really wanted us to do? How do we know either of those things?

We don’t. We don’t get to know. That’s the point.

Because that’s not how God works. Not from what I can tell in the Bible.

“And whatever you do, whether in word or deed, do it all in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him.”. Colossians 3:17.

Whatever you do. Not “the one specific thing you figure out He wants you to do.”

My mom described it to me once when I was in a really dark place trying to figure out what He wanted me to do, paralyzed with indecision, afraid He wanted me to do something I just didn’t want to do, like this: “God doesn’t hold out one flower and say, ‘this is the one I want you to have, so you can either take it or take something worse.’ God makes a field of flowers, and He says, ‘Which one do you want? Pick one, and do it with excellence for Me.’ Then just trust Him to make it good.”

It sounds like you’re in a career, but you are wrestling with whether or not to pick it, now that you have some autonomy as an adult, or to pick starting over. Well. Pick one. Just pick one. And trust God to take care of you. Trusting God looks like thinking it through with excellence, then making the decision—and making the decision means letting go of worrying about the thing you didn’t pick. “Take every thought captive in obedience to Christ.” Once you make a choice, make it all the way, and don’t let your mind wander anymore to “what if this blows up in my face? What if I should’ve stayed back there at the crossroads, or gone down the other path?” It’s going to be hard and God is going to take care of you, no matter what you pick. So don’t let your mind go to those places where you worry; acknowledge the worry, and every time, ask God to help you remember that He’s got you.

Because here’s the point, here’s the thing: He does have you. Because ultimately, your career really doesn’t matter. It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t. Neither does your dream. Not ultimately. And now I’ll say “our” because I need to hear it too. Our dreams and careers are not the point of us, and our dreams and careers are not what God means when He says “I’ll take care of you.”

What He means is, “I’ve already taken care of you.” Because the most important thing isn’t our job or our dream. The most important thing is, we’ve been rescued out of eternally being trapped in our broken desires, and now we get to live for Christ, Who is the Way, the Truth, and the Life. That’s the major. And that truth is where our fulfillment is supposed to come from, what our lives are meant for, our purpose. As long as we pick one, and do it with excellence to make the name of Jesus famous, with that goal in mind, we’ll be emotionally fulfilled. We’ll be satisfied. Because that’s the goal. Not making movies, or whatever it is you want to do. Not having secure means of living. Just…living our lives to make who Jesus is famous. We can do that wherever.

So then the choice? It becomes a minor, not a major, and the pressure of “will I be happy?” is off, because happiness isn’t found in that stuff. And whenever I forget, and start looking for happiness in my dreams, goals, career, that’s when it all starts to feel dark and stressful and hard and crushing. Because it was never meant to give me happiness or fulfillment—that’s a need only Christ can fulfill.

Don’t misunderstand me. He cares what you do. He cared about every decision you make, and He does have a plan. But that’s going to happen anyway. So just pray, consider which option is a) wise to go for and takes care of the responsibilities God has entrusted you with, b) which option you genuinely want, when your wants are not influenced by fears, and then c) step out and do it in faith. And do it with the mindset of, “I’m doing this, and I’m not thinking about the alternative if I can help it, and I’m also not putting all my happiness-eggs in this basket, because even if it crashes and burns, hey, I’m still one with Christ and I can still make Him famous no matter what road my career goes down.”

I hope this helps. It’s a subject I’m hamster-wheeling around in my mind right now a lot—but when I just fix my eyes on Christ and think about how the most important things, the things that give real joy and happiness, are already and forever taken care of and I can’t mess them up—then can get off the hamster wheel and enjoy the life He’s given me, right now, today, without worrying about the future.

[thebrookesnook]

Here's the discussion for Umemiya's deity representation as seen in the latest chapter. If you haven't seen my thoughts on Takiishi's yet then I've provided a link to that post as well.

(I hope you appreciate the better quality & organization of the post from my well-rested brain cells)

Part 1: Takiishi Chika and the Karura

Spoilers for Chapter 150!

In my last post, I discussed my theory that the bird-like deity depicted for Takiishi was a karura. With Umemiya, I believe the deity to be Fudō Myō-ō (不動明王, ふどうみょうおう) who is also known as the Immovable Wisdom King (Skt. Ācalanātha).

[Fudō Mask was sourced from the Japanese Buddhist Statuary: A to Z Phot Dictionary; (Wooden) Seated Fudō Myō-ō Statue by Kaikei created in 1203 sourced from Isumu (360° view available)]

Fudō Myō-ō is THE central deity among all of the Myō-ō (warlike or wrathful gods) groupings, but is most prominently featured among the Godai Myō-ō (五大明王, Five Great Kings) who are manifestations of the Five Transcendental Buddha. He was given the title as the Immovable One due to his unwaivering commitment to the protection of Buddhist teachings.

Orginating as a pagan deity from India, Fudō's conversion to Buddhism began with humble beginnings. He was assigned as a servant and messenger of Buddha himself and later achieving higher positions—becoming a manifestation of the power and virtues of Dainichi Buddha, one of the 5 Transcendental Buddha I mentioned previously. (Source: MetMuseum)

In regards to their appearances, Fudō shares a remarkable resemblance to the deity depicted in Chapter 150. From his adornments, eyebrows, hair style, the prominent scowl etched into their faces and the long side braid (?) to the left of the face.

Aside from looks, let's talk about the prominent parallels between Umemiya and Fudō Myō-ō:

Origins. Both Ume and Fudō had to start over with their lives, with Ume losing his family due to a car accident and Fudō being stripped of his former godhood after converting to Buddhism. Despite these, they were able to work their way up so they'll be strong enough to protect what they valued the most.

Their roles. According to Schumacher in his page about Fudō,

"Fudō converts anger into salvation..."

- Schumacher, M., "Fudō Myō-ō"

"converts anger into salvation", that seems familiar- Oh wait.

Fudō and Ume are guides to enlightenment AND protectors. They themselves are symbols of safety in the eyes of those under their care.

Connections. While the Godai Myō-ō (Five Great Kings) aren't closely related to the Shitennō (Four Heavenly Kings) as the former rank far above the latter, there are similarities to be found. One is that both groups are in charge of the five directions, and yes five. The Shitennō is commanded by Taishakuten (帝釈天) who is the Lord of the Center. Relating this back to Ume and his Four Kings, it's interesting to note that the mangaka choose a higher ranking god to represent Ume rather than use Taishakuten. Perhaps to differentiate the power gap between Umemiya and his Four Kings?

Conclusion: I'm confident that Fudō Myō-ō is definitely the god representing Umemiya with the evidence I have gathered as well as several others have come to similar conclusions to the fact. It was really fun deep diving into this research for both Takiishi and Umemiya and with a clear head than the previous post, perhaps I'd like to make another one but of Tomiyama and Togame (The Hare & The Tortoise) or Sakura and Sugshita (The Tiger & The Dragon). No promises though.

(P.S. I am not Japanese but I have been deeply interested in the culture and history. I do my best to use credible sources (both ENG and JPN) and give credit accordingly. However, I'm prone to slip ups so if there is anything that requires correction, notify me throught the post via reply/reblog.)

(P.S.S. I have a blog specifically made for wbk content for further post like this so feel free to visit me there @transient-winds )

[bookwyrminspiration]

if i may ask, who the fuck is fitz vacker?

This is a delightful ask to receive as someone known for being vocally unwell about and obsessed with Fitz

For those new/following for other things, a fair chunk of my blog is dedicated to the Keeper of the Lost Cities series by Shannon Messenger, a middle grade sparkly elf dystopia series that crawled into my head when I was 12 and still holds me hostage. I've literally been called a walking kotlc encyclopedia on multiple occasions

One of the main characters is Fitzroy Avery Vacker (official art linked), a teenage telepath from the secret elven world's most prominent (but not royal, that's not a thing) family. He's known for having teal eyes and the MCs undying ardor, which she conceals not at all.

He's the golden boy--top of his class, incredibly rare ability (the telepathy), charming, handsome, prestigious family, the works. But! He's also been sent on illegal missions to the human world by his father since childhood, looking for the MC.

Throughout the series he's drawn further into rebellion, following the MC as she uncovers the dirt under the shine of their "utopia." But even amongst friends, that Wonderboy status continues, creating this tension between the prestige he's been showered and burdened with his whole life and its slow unraveling. What worth does being golden have if the whole system's rigged? But how can he let go of all he's ever been?

And how the hell do you process that? He's got an incredibly strong sense of justice, values trust above all else--and his world and the people close to him are breaking it. How can he do anything but lash out, desperate to recenter himself?

To the point the Golden Boy, who bakes for his friends and has a sparkly red stuffed dragon he can't sleep without, nearly kills his traitorous brother with a knife to the throat. To the point when his traitorous brother is trapped behind glass, suffocating liquid pouring in from Fitz's frantic smashing at the control panel, Fitz deliberately steps away. Because he knows one of the buttons probably opens a drain, and he's choosing to let him die by his doing. Even though it wasn't on purpose. even though elves cannot abide violence, and risk shattering their sanity even witnessing it

GOD I love him. he's everything everyone else wants to be, he's deeply jealous and constantly fighting it, he's sweet and thoughtful, he's full of a rage so profound he can't think straight, he's putting his life on the line to better the world, he can't quite let go of what he thought it was, he's everything 2 me.

[r0semultiverse]

From Season 3 Ep9 Revelations Chapter One Live Blog

“The baby was hungry”

“Please you helped me so much since I first got here.”

BOY SHES GONNA EAT YOU ALIVE IF YOU DON’T CUT THIS SHIT OUT 👀

JIM I STG YOU ARE BEING SUCH AN ASS BRO I MEAN RANDALL WAS A DOUCHE BUT STOP PLAYING COP, WE ALREADY GOT THE YT LADY DOING THAT! 😭

Oh thank fuck he’s listening for a change instead of charging in guns blazing.

Oh shit she’s gonna go for the jugular isn’t she?

Please no one shoot the messenger, Sara has done fucked up shit, but she’s helpful.

Weird how Fromville is basically playing them all like chess pieces or one big show or something.

Oh gods please keep cop lady away from Victor. I don’t trust like that.

DONNA IS GAY I KNEW IT (or that’s her sister but listen... VIBESSS)

THATS WHY BOYD IS THE GOAT!!! 🔥

Ellis is hot. I think that a lot, but just wanted to say it. He’s cute.

Someones gonna die today and Elgin's got the final sayyyyy (epic the musical thunder bringer reference yeah)

“I’m a good cop!” For the crowd who usually jokes about participation trophies you sure are giving yourself one. Bruh I wish the monsters got you on the night you arrived. Someone get this pig out of here.

Hey Victor buddyy... hey maybe don't... do that.

Woah kid hi wtf?

You an angry spirit or something boy in white? "because I tried" WELL, TRY AGAIN THEN! If you're gonna stick around fucking help!

Wait no Victor is right, this kid does look different, sounds older too like preteen or teen. wtf is happening?

ELGIN IS GONNA GET CAUGHT IM CALLING IT NOW

Are they gonna do a time skip of some sort before season 5? Idk how I'd feel about that, but i randomly thought of it.

ELGIN SELF REPORT!?!?

ah nvm

oh shit oh fuck

I stg if this shit somehow teleports them I'm gonna be so annoyed

NO, GO IN TOGETHER PLEASE HOLY FUCK

NO NOPE NOPE NOPE FUCK YOU I HATE THAT. GET YOUR BLAIR WITCH PROJECT ASS OUT THE WAY PLEASE

oH THANK FUCK. bruh stg I'm always turning my volume down for shit like this, I hate getting jumpscared.

oh no :((( she saw Victor's mom get eaten by jerma

[spartanseagoat]

Chiron Gemini-your words hold more power than you realize

Hey y’all! Here’s the 3rd part of my Chiron series. This series is to help you understand your Chiron a bit better.

If you need a reminder…

Chiron is considered “the wounded healer” which means this is the internal wound you will constantly need to heal this lifetime. Your Chiron will never fully “heal” but it is a good method to start your healing journey for growth.

Gemini rules over communication, transportation, your thought process, education, your lungs and hands, journals and blogs, your siblings and cousins

So…

In Past lives- you could’ve been a teacher who got in trouble for teaching. You could’ve been a writer or a record keeper. You were a messenger of some sorts. You could’ve been killed/hurt from a car or transportation accident. You could’ve been betrayed by a sibling(real or sibling figure) or a colleague. You could’ve struggled with education in some way.

Now…

In this Life- you struggle with communicating your thoughts due to people early in your life making you feel stupid. People probably have a hard time trusting what you say and don’t take you seriously. You could’ve struggled in school with learning, you could have a learning disability. It wouldn’t surprise me if you’re fearful of driving or is cautious while being in a car. You probably been in a few accidents as well. Sibling issues? Close Friend issues?

How to learn to Heal those Wounds

-So your words due hold more power than you realize. Chiron is a healer as well. Your words leaves a deep impact on people whether you realize this or not. So, be mindful of your words and be more self aware of what you say.

-buy a Journal, Diary, use Voice Notes on your phone if you prefer. You need to write out your thoughts because seeing and reading them can offer more clarity into your thought process.

-if you feel anxious about cars and driving then do research on which car brands are known for safety. Obviously, you can’t prevent accidents from happening but at least being in a brand YOU feel safe in can help. Then again, there’s nothing wrong public transportation as well if that helps too.

- Keep a close group of friends that you can communicate freely too. Your past friends were probably gossipers which caused your wounds.

- regarding siblings, you can’t choose family but you can choose who’s you allow in your space.

I hope you enjoyed reading this blog and gave you a bit of better understanding of yourself. I’ll be continuing this series so follow me or click the hashtag “Chiron series by Spartanseagoat”

[obsessedwithgale]

Why Gale's tale resonates so deeply

I've been pondering this for quite some time, even before I set up this blog, and I've finally mustered the words to share my thoughts. Although this blog primarily serves as a haven for fangirling over Gale, I've decided to open up about something more personal.

So, what's the crux of the matter? This is my take on why the Wizard resonates so deeply with me. Many players connect with characters, whether it's Astarion or others, and for me, Gale is especially relatable. The irony lies in the fact that the criticism surrounding this character actually enhances my experience.

Gale endured a romantic relationship with a significant power imbalance. He loved a woman idolized by many, feeling special to be her chosen partner. Although the dynamics of their relationship may have been non-monogamous, that's beside the point. What's crucial is the portrayal of a man with an immense heart yearning for love, tethered to a partner who prioritized obedience over genuine affection. The overwhelming feeling of inadequacy led him to make a risky decision for someone he believed loved him back. The result was heartbreak, and instead of love and support, his partner treated him callously, leaving him alone and devastated, with her followers aware of the betrayal.

Gale's heart shattered, and his health prevented him from healing. Consequently, he frequently mentions her at the start of our journey. She burned and destroyed him, leaving scars on his heart and psyche. When he reveals he dated a goddess, companions are amazed but fail to see the broken man beneath the surface. Only Mystra's intervention, sending Elminster as a messenger, makes them realize he was the victim.

Not everyone receives the grace of being recognized as the true victim; some remain perceived as the villain in many memories.

Following Gale's personal story, delving into his suicidal thoughts and discovering the untainted pieces of himself, was cathartic for me. Witnessing a man who couldn't recognize his worth find someone who loved him, scars and all, was beautiful.

Now, the Baldur's Gate 3 fandom seems to miss this message. They only pay attention when he mentions Mystra and find him annoying when he passionately shares his thoughts. They overlook the chronic pain, depression, and the harrowing message from his omnipotent lover. Sometimes I wonder if we're playing the same game or if they choose what to see. The community reduce to the way he handles his depression (deflecting and humour), and not for the horror he clearly hasn't processed.

While other characters accept their pasts and trauma bomb you, Gale is still in denial. Facing the truth is challenging; it's easier to blame oneself, right?

TL;DR: Gale resonates with me due to his trauma denial, coping mechanisms for depression and suicidal thoughts, and how he, despite being the clear victim in a relationship, is portrayed as the villain due to the overwhelming power and influence of the other person.

I adore this man, and learning the Leadwriter didn't get the message about Gale is disheartening.

[bestworstcase]

Not to be weird or anything but...there was admittedly a time where I've doubted a lot of your takes on Salem, the direction of the story, etc. Scoffed at them, even. But V9 has really led me to reevaluate RWBY in more ways than one with unreliable narration literally being a core function of it's narrative, and reading your analysis and meta has helped deepen my own appreciation towards the show than ever before. And dare I say it, I think I'm a Salem Truther now jsshjshjshshj So all of this to say I'm glad you're a part of this community, genuinely. And I'm always eager to hear your thoughts on the show and on storytelling as a fic writer. I'm not entirely sure what possessed me to write this ask now, but it's something I've been meaning to say for a good while, lol

<3

jrhdfgj the salem truther situation has been really kind of wild because frankly i spent like two years going “no… there’s no way… i am reading into small details and hanging MASSIVE assumptions on a grammatical quibble… there’s no fucking way.” i was so prepared to be let down by volume nine.

’cause the thing is, like, this is what i do. right. points at my blog header. that little gremlin has all the characterization of a soggy scrap of tissue paper in canon and i made a salem out of her. give me an evil witch and i will invent a salem out of whole cloth if i have to, every time. like. i won’t argue it’s textual when it isn’t but i will write the elaborate au about her in my head if nothing else.

this is My Thing.

salem’s the first time i’ve ever felt like. i hadn’t gotten any further than “oh yeah i’m going to be so normal about her once i finish digesting i can tell” before the lost fable slapped me with the richly interesting emotionally complicated tragic backstory i normally have to make up myself and i was like… excuse me?? and then the next episode was the bait-and-switch “villain mauls the messenger except no she doesn’t and when she loses her temper she sends everyone out of the room before exploding the windows” scene and i was like IS THAT ALLOWED.

this has never happened to me before!!!

so it has been. uh. WHACK to get v9 going okay here’s every expectation you had met and surpassed. grbfxhk there was one point when v9 was first airing while i watched an episode—can’t remember which—and pulled the gf over to go “i am right. about everything?!” because it was so shocking to me.

i was so ready to be like [sighs] ah well, there’s always time does this. and then enjoy the rest of the story for what it was. jrhfhfjdks what do you MEAN they’re writing it for ME

thrilling!! still shocking!! the salem screeds will continue until morale improves 😊 

[routeunlocked]

Mobile Otome Recommendations

Hi, everyone! I've gotten into otome in the recent years. I got my start with mobile games, so I thought it'd be fun to talk about some of my favorites as my first recommendations post on this blog. If you have questions or other recommendations, let me know.

MYSTIC MESSENGER

Mystic Messenger has a chatroom setting with many beloved characters of the RFA (Rika's Fundraising Association). MC finds a phone with the RFA app installed, ultimately leading to MC's position as party coordinator. There's more than meets the eye with the organization and the founder's history, however.

Unsurprisingly, this is the game that sparked my interest in otome. I felt the chatroom playstyle was very unique and a relatable way of getting to know the characters. It's fun to get calls from them occasionally too. The characterization and plot are so enjoyable, it's almost heartbreaking each route ends after 11 days. I could easily spend months on each of these character's routes.

As much as I love that it works in real time, it can be difficult to play with a busy schedule. It's also heavy with the triggering/dark content the more you play, so make sure that's something you're comfortable with before picking it up.

Features: Chatroom, routes, calls, real time, dark content.

WANNABE CHALLENGE

MC is a model who has always faced misfortune in her life. She never expects anything good to happen. Some of her memories are also missing, including her history with the goblins, but they're there to protect her. Will her luck turn around as she suddenly finds herself living with four men and competing in the Wannabe Challenge?

I started playing this one more recently and I am in love with it. My only regret is not starting sooner. The blend of historical, modern, and fantasy is well done. The characters are so lovable, I'm not sure I can pick a favorite. The MC is pretty sassy too, which I'm fond of. The Wannabe Challenge itself is based on Instagram, so it's cool to see what characters post while having the opportunity to respond and make your own posts. There's also a dress up and gacha aspect to the game, if you're a fan of that.

The only downside I think is the difficulty of the photoshoot challenges, requiring you to have specific stats. You'll want to upgrade your cameras and cards wisely. On the bright side, the game is generous with free gems and occasionally allowing you to use a random SSR to help succeed.

Features: Instagram, text messaging, gacha, optional ads for free resources, dress up, challenges, affection levels, unlockable stories.

ARCANA TWILIGHT

The Summoner enters an unfamiliar world, filled with sorcery. Their presence seems to bring more chaos and mystery than ever expected. Why do they have a special ability? What is it they see in their mind's eye? What about them attracts danger?

I feel like Arcana Twilight is a very underrated game. I've thoroughly enjoyed the story and getting to know the cast of characters. Their dynamics never fail to entertain. I also appreciate that the cast is 19+ despite this being a magic school setting. Constellations, magic, and monsters are all my taste.

The challenges can be difficult in this game as well. You have to battle between chapters which gets increasingly challenging as you go. Pay attention to elements and leveling your cards.

Features: Gacha, challenges, affection levels, ads for resources, text messaging, unlockable stories.

LOVEBRUSH CHRONICLES

The MC is an artist during her first year at a university. She has special skills, resulting in her finding herself in different worlds. There are some familiar faces there too...

I was very excited to hear about an English release for this game. I thought the art was gorgeous when I first stumbled across it, and I still feel that way. They have an amazing voice cast too. I like the idea of being able to explore different worlds/universes and seeing the roles each of the love interests play. I'm looking forward to diving deeper and seeing what other worlds get released.

Much like the others listed above, there is a combat feature in the game requiring you to focus on your cards/leveling. Thankfully, you can bring support from other players into battle which may be the difference between success and failure.

Features: Routes, social media posts, affection points, gacha, combat, alternate universes, friend support.

THE SSUM

MC uses a dating app to find their "special someone." Based on initial answers, MC is paired with one of the love interests on the app. A relationship is built up over a long period of time. But is there more to the app than meets the eye?

I feel like it comes full circle to have a Cheritz game on my phone again. I'm a sucker for their games (Dandelion and Nameless included), so I had to check this one out too. I've only done June's route at the moment, but I adored every moment of it. I like that I can set it up based on my real life schedule and there aren't consequences for missing chats. I also like the ties to Mystic Messenger. If you're missing the charm of Mystic Messenger, you may want to check this one out to satisfy the nostalgia.

There are some other features on the app, but I'm mostly focused on the story. It is still fun to check out planets and posts by other players though. This game will require a lot of patience as the other routes span 200+ days. Parts of spoken conversations and some photos will also be hidden unless you pay a monthly fee, but it will not prevent you from enjoying the story if you choose to play for free.

Features: Chatroom, dating app profiles, planet exploration, community posts, optional monthly fees, real time, calls, routes (that can all be played at the same time).

[littleoanh]

Helloo! I just wanna say that your blog is super pretty. I don't have a request, but if you don't mind can you please give me your thoughts on this brainrot with fem!Bonten Executive!reader?

Bonten hearing the news from their supposedly allied gang that the reader's dead due to poisoning and she's killed by someone from their gang. The gang intended to fight Bonten in the first place and they're just playing nice before revealing their true colors after having you killed. However, right after the messenger said that while laughing at Bonten, Sanzu received a call from your number. He immediately answered it and he's greeted by your voice.

"Hey Sanzu! I caught the leader of (gang's name) and he's all tied up! Do you want me to do anything?"

In reality, you already find the other gang sus and you decided to fake your death so that the gang will show their true colors in front of Bonten, and you also did that so that you can infiltrate the gang to find out their intentions and get their leader. Even better that you suddenly hang up and Bonten heard a knock on the door before it opened, revealing you and one of the lower ranking Bonten members carrying the unconscious body of the other gang leader.

A/N: Hello darling! Aww, you are too sweet (∩´͈ ᵕ `͈∩). Thank you so much! And of course I don’t mind giving my thoughts (ᗒᗜᗕ).

Man oh man, you best believe the other Bonten Executives are beyond help when they received the phone call of the tragic news. Being in Bonten, there will always be a risk of death, especially being an executive. But it never crossed their minds that you would be the first to be taken out. If Mikey is Bonten’s King, then you are Bonten’s Queen. Deadly and Fierce. The supposed allied gang (A/N: I am bad at coming up with names so no name gang for them lol) are in deep shit and this will end in a bloodbath. No mercy and no survivors.

Mikey 

He will handle the gang leader himself. Normally his executives are the ones who dirty their hands but this is personal. If wiping out the gang isn’t enough, he will order to go after their families too. 

Sanzu 

Serious Sanzu = they’re fucked, so they better leave the country and change their appearance and identity. Leave no traces behind because HE WILL find them. He’s not called the Mad Dog for no reason.

Kakucho

 Emotionless and empty, he is completely numb. He is always the rational one between Sanzu and him. He will blindly follow his murderous instincts and there’s nothing they can do to stop him.

Takeomi 

He won’t show it on his face but he is broken by this news. Though he doesn’t get his hands dirty anymore, he will be working behind the scenes. If he catches them getting away, he will bring them back to their executioner (*cough* Sanzu *cough*).

Ran 

Normally he takes care of business quickly, no need to drag things out. However, he wants them to toy with them and make them suffer. He wants them to feel the pain they have inflicted upon him.

Rindou 

In complete denial at first, Ran had to be the one to snap him out of it. Then it turns into rage, how dare they take you away from him? Just like Ran, he will make them suffer by crippling them before ending them in a gruesome way.

Kokonoi 

The only one who shows emotion on his face. He already lost Akane, now he has to lose you too? Like Takeomi, he will be working behind the scenes and will financially ruin all of them and including their families. 

Mochi 

They woke the beast. If they thought Kakucho’s brute strength was terrifying … they never saw Mochi’s true strength. His fists are scarier than guns and it’s strong enough to take them out.  

The one thing they all have in common is deep down, they are grieving and remorseful for not having your back. They should’ve known there was something suspicious about that gang. Blinded by rage as the messenger laughed at their pride and hung up. Sanzu receives a phone call, his eyes widened and immediately answers. It’s your phone number. The moment he hears your voice, his breath is taken away. Is this truly you talking or is someone impersonating you? 

They are dumbfounded when they find you coming into Bonten with your lower subordinates carrying the unconscious body of the gang leader. With a confident and bright smile on your face, the room no longer felt dark and empty. Kakucho orders your subordinates to take the leader to the torture room. You best believe they all run towards you and hug the hell out of you. Their Bonten’s Queen is home, safe and sound. 

Albie ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

[periwinkle-the-11th]

Intro post!

i'm Peri!

I spend my time writing, reading, crocheting, embroidering, drawing, sewing, procrastinating my school work, and complaining about everything under the sun.

Heres my pronoun page!

I post all my writing and various creations over on @pericreatesstuff and my ao3 is Peri_Writes

Sidenote: Guess who's officially a college student!!!!

my writing blog is mostly unedited snippets, and my ao3 is either fully plotted and finished beta'd works... or smth i thought up at 3am wrote in one sitting and only proofread once.

I'm in way way way to many fandoms so heres an incomplete list:

Keep It Steady Podcast

Juno Steel (i just started season 4 no spoilers PLS )

pjo/hoo (I haven't read toa yet but its on my list)

kotlc

Kaleidotrope Podcast

Voltron (ik, i'm judging me too.)

bridge to terabithea

Atla

Daylight Shooting Star (if you know dss I am begging you to be my friend I have literally never met anyone else who's read it)

Marauders

Sk8 the infinity

Ohshc

The Sky Fall Trilogy by shannon messenger (once again if you've read it (and liked it) I am begging you to be my friend its so so underrated)

The Lost Books: Scroll of Kings (SO SO SO UNDERRATED)

I listen to way to much music way to often, heres some artists/bands i like: Set it off, pierce the veil, taylor swift, Fin (steffan argus), conan gray, PEGGY, olivia rodrigo, alec benjamin, one direction, Natalie jane, sadie jean, my chemical romance, fall out boy, NF, MARINA, Maren Morris, girl in red, melanie martinez, Avril Lavigne, Madonna, Ke$ha, little mix, Queen, Billy joel, Zara Larsson, Maisie Peters, Lauren spencer smith, ABBA, Jorge Rivera-Herrans, Sam Hunt, and literally so many more

and my tags:

#peri personal - just about everything not fandom related/interactions w people/my life

#peri complains - self explanatory really

#music rambles - rambling about music, mostly when new songs/albums come out

#allis adventures - various stuff about my sourdough! her full name is Allison Breadorthy and she is ALIVE

#baking Breadorthy - actually baking her ^

#peri crafts - self explanatory

#my memes - crappy memes i make, mostly reblogged from my writing blog

#writing related - self explanatory but its mostly me complaining about my fics, plot holes i find, and polls bc i'm indecisive

#friends <3 - my actual conversation style interaction with my mutuals

#lena and tim - my self indulgent au where Lena Luthor adopts Tim Drake after his parents die, the fic is being plotted currently. THE FIC IS CANCELED!!! LEX IS LENA'S BROTHER! LENA IS KON'S AUNT!! THE PLANNED TIMKON IS LEGAL INCEST! (why does this keep happening??? TvT)

#bravery points game - I've started playing a points game with my anxiety, where every time I do something that scares me/my anxiety told me would end in disaster I get a point! It's stupid but it's motivating, I'm being brave! (Even tho it's terrifying) I don't really have a points goal but I wanna try to get to 100 before the end of the year!

Thats all for now!! I'll probably update this once i realize i forgot smth tho

[eileenslibrary]

A/N: I need a small break from writing about Krall, so how about Thranduil x reader just a one shot. But let me know if you want more of him or something, btw I'm working on one of those plot / topic boards people have on their blogs. Race or gender is not said in this.

Rude but right

Thranduil was someone you just couldn't seem to read, or understand, because of his hate towards the dwarves that were trying to reclaim their home.

Or that he seemed to always be so confident and thick headed that he ignored everything you had just said. Instead nodding you off and telling you were wrong.

Why were you working for this man.

"My king I don't see it as wise to hold the King Under The Mountain under siege, don't you think that's a bit pett-"

"Do not tell me how to run my Kingdom" he interrupts standing from his throne. You send a frosty glare to the floor in anger, he was just as stubborn as any of the dwarves you've seen, you grit your teeth as he dismisses you. You stand turn and leave, you were tired of his grumpy attitude and the glares he'd send you when you opened your mouth to explain why his actions may cause harm to the Kingdom and its people. But you let it go every time, reminding yourself that you could not change someone but only change yourself, you walked to your chambers. Opening the door, saying hello to your messenger bird throwing him a bit of corn meal as a treat, then changing into your training attire, grabbing your short sword and journal. You leave your chambers, grab your horse, and ride to a nice clearing you have found recently.

You tie your horse to a tree with the halter you always brought anywhere you went when on horseback, as your horse begins to graze you sit down to relax as well, working on the notes you had started taking to bring down stress levels.

But you weren't alone by any means, someone had followed you from the woodland kingdom.

"For someone who is constantly trying to tell me how to protect my Kingdom, you don't seem to protect yourself as well as you think" a silky voice speaks behind you. Your eyes widen before relaxing again, "I felt no danger so I did not find it fit to be on edge if no relative danger was nearby" you reply "Plus I always keep a sword on me" you say raising the sword you had brought "and I don't rule your kingdom I simply give you advice, plus I think keeping thirteen dwarves in the dungeons from completing their quest will bite us in the back later" you say unamused, you write down what was currently happening at the moment in your journal. He steps closer looking over your shoulder, you snap your book shut. "You always tell me to mind my own business but you can't seem to mind yours," you say smirking up at your king. He shakes his head "your always so rude" he points out, "but it seems I'm always right" you grumble he rolls his eyes at your statement, sitting down next to you "If you're so sure why don't you try ruling a whole kingdom" he says with an amused tone "you and I both know it would be the most safe place in the world" you chuckle he joins in "I'd pay to see you try" you roll your eyes "you know, your enjoyable when your not being a stubborn pain in the neck" you say sarcastically. He frowns "How have I been a pain in the neck? I know you think strongly of my actions but I don't think I've been that bad," he asks, concern slightly bleeding into his tone. You sigh before dropping your journal in his lap, "read that, it explains my feelings better than I can express" You sigh laying on your back, a sliver of warm sunlight shining on your skin warming you up. He reads a few pages before placing it down, lying down next to you "I didn't know I was putting so much pressure on you and interrupting you and your thoughts so much" he says gently, he places his hand on your cheek guiding your gaze to his eyes, "I also think your right sometimes even when you're rude" he props up on his elbow, you raise a brow at his actions but before you could speak he leans down gently kissing you, "I love you too Mel nìn" he mumbles against your lips. You blush before pulling him down to your lips again.

You forgot about that part. But oh well.

[natasha-in-space]

'Why do you love rika. I love rika myself as well. Tbh for me its like, the more I stay in mysme fandom the more my love and appreciation for rika grows. It initially started as me being angry at the double standards of the most asian media fandoms in general cuz i realised that rika would have been more well loved if she was a man, people would use the male!rika's trauma to justify his actions and this thought has made me angry and made me "appreciate" rika out of spite. But it eventually has grown into a genuine appreciation for her. Idk how to explain but something inside me makes me want to protect her and save her from everything happened to her leading upto the current situation. And more hate she gets more i feel the desire to defend her.

Actually my no 1 is another character and he has a place of his own which no one could take (its yoosung btw) but rika...i think she might be a close second fave i guess - anon'

I accidentally messed up your ask, so I'll be replying in this way instead!

Thank you for the question, dear anon! I'm always giddy to chitchat about these things. I do want to prelude this by saying that this is not really a proper analysis, but more of me just writing out my personal feelings. I might try my hand at actual analysis one day, but, for now, I'm just sharing my own interpretations!

Mystic Messenger is probably the only fandom I have been in since... well, since it has formed, basically. It's wild to think about sometimes. Things are very different in our little space now, compared to how it was before. Public perception of Rika is one of those things. I can totally resonate with your frustrations on that front, unfortunately. I know many folks miss the time when the fandom was bigger, but... personally, I don't. Especially as a Rika fan. It was borderline exhausting trying to curate your fandom space as a Rika fan at the time. Hell, we had full blogs dedicated to solely hating on her, a fictional character, and people who expressed their love for her. And that's just here on Tumblr. People used to full on write hate comments under every single seasonal CG with Rika in it. It was terrible, and very, very disheartening to see. Especially since most Rika fans I've met over the years are the sweetest people. Granted, there is a case to be made for practically every mm character, and how the fandom may have misinterpreted them in one way or another, so it's not just a Rika problem. Just that she was majorly disliked.

If anything, I'm very happy Cheritz still continued to include Rika in the seasonal events despite it all. Props to them on that front.

Right now, thankfully, things are much more peaceful and respectful. Rika is definitely not the more popular character, but now you can openly express your love for her in the fandom space, without fear of being harassed. I'd say that's a great win for us!

That being said, as to why I love Rika... Hm, it's interesting to put it into words. I didn't have a strong opinion on her until V's route came out. I never really shared the collective hatred of her, but I didn't love her either, you know? V's route came out during a pretty rough patch in my life, and I think that helped me get personally invested in what it had to tell. Rika actually feels like a fleshed out character with many nuances, and that instantly made me interested in paying close attention to what they wanted to do with her.

Rika is complicated, to say the least. She always was, but, with all the added content to her story that Cheritz have put out over the years, her complexity only evolved further. I love that about her. I love morally dubious characters who's mind you have to carefully study and pick apart piece by piece in order to understand them. I love how she is not really a villain in a traditional sense. She is not actively pursuing harm on anybody, not in her eyes. It is fascinating to me how different her view point is, compared to those around her. How skewed her perception of the world around her grows over the years. It's both scary and captivating.

So, it started with fascination. Appreciation for her character and a desire to delve deeper into what makes her who she is today. I think... my appreciation has grown into love when her Behind Story came out. I know many folks have very complicated feelings towards it, especially since it came out alongside V's After End and its unfortunate push for forgiveness, but I never really viewed Cheritz establishing Rika's past as an attempt to wash her of her sins. It just came out at a very bad timing is all. If her Behind Story came out a bit later, I think public opinion of it would have been different. It's a shame that their huge mess up with the message in V's After Ending sabotaged it like that.

Thing is, Rika wouldn't be as compelling and interesting as she is, if she was truly innocent. That being said, I... relate to her struggles on a deeply personal level. Not as deeply as I do with Saeran, but her story and her struggles do make me choke up to this day. Because, in a way, I see my past self in her. Being able to read through her story, her thoughts, and her feelings have really made me form a genuine fondness to her. Her religious trauma, her painful path of learning to survive in an environment that actively tries to harm you at every possibility, her fears of being the devil everyone says she is, her inability to accept and love herself, because all she has ever known is pain, danger and hatred... It hurts. I think, everyone has that little voice inside their head. Telling them that they are bad and undeserving of the love people close to them are expressing. That everyone actually hates them. That there is something inherently wrong with them. It's heartbreaking that, in Rika's case, this voice has eventually consumed her to the point of no return.

When you are an abused child, who knows nothing but the hostile world they have at home, it will follow you into every crook and cranny of your life. Even when you're not home, even when you're 'safe', your mind and body will still be on high alert, as it's natural to try and keep yourself safe from harm. Rika's fear of the world around her, her deep inner self-hatred is something I have experienced as an abused child/young teen. It's debilitating, and it's heartwrenching to think that so many people have to suffer like this.

I think the beauty of her story to me is the sheer tragedy of it. It's a tough pill to swallow, but people are not born evil. She has done horrible, immoral and unforgivable things, and yet, in some twisted sense, her heart was not filled with malice as she did so. She believed she was saving Saeran, she believed she was providing her believers the safety and love they couldn't get elsewhere, she believed she was trying to show her old friends the truth by taking them to her side. Of course, none of those things are actually true. Her real intentions were selfish, albeit not evil. A desperation to be loved and not abandoned. That dichotomy is both beautiful and tragic to me. (Some of these are very bad quality bc I can't screenshot stuff right now)

Of course, there's also the whole V/Rika debacle. Personally, I never put all of the responsibility onto either one of them. That takes away the beautiful tragedy of their shared bond. V - or, Jihyun - genuinely cares deeply for her. He is heartbroken at all the suffering he sees her go through during his route. Of course, it's not just his care for Rika at play, but we're not talking about him right now. While, for Rika, he was her only anchor, her light, the one person who saw the real her and accepted her instead of forsaking her. At least that's what she thought. Rika and V are two very hurt and troubled individuals who have met each other at the worst possible time. And that makes it so sad to me. Neither him nor Rika truly wanted to harm one another. Whether there was any romantic love between them or not, they did care for one another deeply. Too deeply, even. Clinging to one another in order to satiate the emptiness they had inside, each in their own toxic way. It was not healthy. But it was genuine.

And I love tragic bonds, be it romantic or not. There is something compelling about two people who do want the best for one another just causing more harm than good. It's also painfully truthful. Not to such an extreme, but the struggle of doing what's best with no direction is one many can relate to.

I guess, to conclude this all, I'd say I love Rika for her complexity most of all. There are so many layers to her, and her story is truly a heartbreaking one to behold. But, God, is it beautiful, too.

Also, may I just add, her voice actress is absolutely amazing? She puts her all into playing Rika, and her story wouldn't be as moving if it wasn't for her breathtaking work. Her voice acting made me cry a whole lot of times.