#this is one of several pieces i wanna make but i decided to post this one by itself for now before i stall on sharing it indefinitely bc

[rottingraisins]

So I wade out into the very centre of the torrent, the water rushing about my feet as if it still longs to drag me down with him, bearing my brother before me-

-and then I let him go.

[subbmissivesuccubus]

No secrets around here ~

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Thank you all so much for 1K followers <3 <3 <3 I am undeserving but very appreciative. I am working on Bully Part 3 but please have this one shot as a token of my love.

It's a story suggested by my patron! If you'd like to suggest prompts for me to write, please consider checking out my patreon (link in bio) <3

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Summary : Satoru and Suguru find out that their sweet, seemingly innocent girlfriend writes smutty fanfiction. They decide to make her fantasies come true while also making sure to teach her that keeping secrets from them have consequences <3

Contains : Fem reader. Established relationship. Degradation. Threesome M/M/F. Gojo and Geto being mean but with love. A bit meta.

“Dude- Suguru- SUGURU!”

“Stop yelling, Satoru.” The raven-haired man whined, rubbing a hand over his face as he was barely awake, “You better be dying if you’re calling me at 3 in the morning.”

“Oh, trust me, you’ll wanna hear what I say.”

“Get to the point.”

“Ok, so you know how every time we visit our cutie, she’s super protective of her phone?”

“…Yeah.”

“And how she immediately shuts her laptop close if we walk in?”

“…Yeah.”

“I found out why. I just sent you a link.”

Satoru hung up and Suguru groaned, looking his phone annoyance before the ding of a message received rang out. He raised an eyebrow as he read the message, the link opening upto a website called…tumblr? He was aware of the site but it never interested him enough to truly put any effort into finding out more about it. He also knew of the concept of fanfiction (thanks to a certain someone) and knew that Tumblr had a lot of creators posting their fanmade content.

But he had no idea it was…something like this.

Reader is being a brat and gets put in her place – Fem Reader X Demon Slayer men.

Where the men of One-Piece love to cum <3

Dick headcannons, a.k.a. who among the Honkai men are packing~

Suguru scoffed as he scrolled down the posts, surprised at how lewd this author was. Their writing was filthy and degenerate yet written fairly well. If he wasn’t so sleepy, Suguru was sure he could jerk off to a story or two. The comments under the posts were just as feral, people going crazy over the fanfictions, often proclaiming their desire to be with these…fictional men? He didn’t quite understand it but who was he to judge.

He paused as he read the title of a post, letting out a hum as the title hit a bit close to home.

Reader gets pounded roughly by her two boyfriends.

It was a post with thousands of notes which got Suguru curious. He clicked on the tag labelled #two boyfriends and was surprised to see several stories written by the author of the reader having two lovers and their sexual escapades together:

Reader gets both her holes stuffed with cock. Or the two boyfriends compete to see who can get her to squirt first. Reader is spanked silly and can’t sit properly for days. As punishment, the two boyfriends overstimulate the reader for hours, making her cum over and over again even as she begged them to stop.

The list went on and on and on, making the blood rush to Suguru’s cheeks at how raw and filthy and…desperate these fanfictions were.

His phone dinged, a message from Satoru which reminded the black-haired man of how he wound up here to begin with. So there are some smutty fiction online, but what does it have to do with you? He could only come up with one conclusion but…that couldn’t be it. Right?

Satoru <3 : Did you see all the two boyfriends fics?

Me : Yeah. You’re not saying that…she wrote all of this, are you?

Suguru waited with bated breath as the three dots danced on his screen, Satoru typing out the answer. You were someone who refused to even curse in daily conversation! There was no way… He choked as he got a response, Satoru simply saying:

What do you say we show our baby how much better her real boyfriends are?

~~~~~

“Boys!” you whined as Suguru and Satoru stuck close to you, one on either side, “I’m trying to cook here!” “We’re not stopping you!” Satoru said with a pout as he placed his cheek on top of your hair, “We just wanna be close to our baby. Is that so bad?” “Exactly.” Suguru purred as a hand came up to wrap around your waist, pressing himself close to you, “Is loving you such a crime?”

You rolled your eyes at their theatrics. One thing worse than having one dramatic boyfriend would be having two. Not that you were complaining, of course. How on Earth could you be upset over having the two most powerful sorcerers be your lovers? It sometimes felt like a dream- that these two had fallen in love with you and were over by your place for a domestic night of homecooked food and movies. They were more clingy than usual, a hand or lips always on your body at all times. You caught them exchanging glances with each other once in awhile but you simply ignored it. It wasn’t the first time your men had this telepathic communication going on between them. As long as they weren’t planning on pranking you, you decided to simply focus on the meal you were cooking.

“So, babe,” Satoru purred as he placed a kiss to the crown of your head, “You’re on Tumblr a lot, right?”

You scoffed, “You know I am. Why’d you ask? You finally wanna join?”

“I sure do!” he responded, “And if you had told me about all the porn that was on that website, I would have joined sooner.”

“Porn?” you repeated, confused, “What are you talking about? It doesn’t allow-”

“All of that smutty fanfiction- I was up all night reading them!”

You froze, hoping that the two of them didn’t notice. “Oh, uh, yeah there’s a lot of that.”

“And, you know, we found this…writer.” Suguru said, his voice dripping like honey as his hand ran up and down your waist, “Who writes the most…filthy things. Degradation, spankings, brat taming, not to mention threesomes between two men and a woman. Kind of similar to us, right?”

You gulped, trying to focus on your food even though your mind was running a mile. Did they know? How did they find out? You were so careful of your things! You always made sure to have an eye on your phone and laptop so how did they…

“Well, only the threesome parts.” Satoru said, “We’re not nearly as kinky as the people in those stories. We could be, of course, but we wouldn’t want to scare our baby with how…intense we can be, right?”

“Of course.” Suguru purred, leaning forward to kiss your temple, his lips soft against your skin, “Our sweet princess is so innocent and vanilla. How on Earth can we treat her like the girls in those smutty, dirty stories? We have to make love to her like the Queen she is. There’s no way our baby would like to be punished or have her pussy filled until she’s bred.”

“Exactly.” Satoru said, noting the way your breathing was quickening, smiling as he saw your ears turn red, “Unless…there’s something she’s not telling us.” You gasped as his hand trailed down your back, making you shiver before it landed on your ass. You mewled as he grabbed a cheek harshly, his fingers digging into your plush skin, both of them so close to you that you could feel their hot breath against your burning face.

“So, sweetheart.” Suguru said, a twinkle in his eye as he turned off the heat of the stove, gently taking your utensils out of your hands, “Anything you’d like to share?”

You gulped, Satoru squeezing you greedily and making it difficult for you to form sentences, “H-How did you find out?”

“Well, I might have peeked at your phone when you left it unlocked yesterday.” Satoru confessed, “I wasn’t planning on looking but when I saw the notification of someone begging you to write more of your threesome content, well, curiosity got the better of me.”

“Our baby has such naughty fantasies,” Suguru said, not giving you a chance to respond “But she kept it all to herself like a bad little girl. Why didn’t you tell us?” he leaned down to nibble at your ear, loving the cute yelp you let out, “Did you think we’d judge you?”

“I- I don’t know…” you mumbled, face so red it felt like steam was coming out your ears, “It’s…embarrassing- ah!” Suguru moved downwards and kissed your neck, his teeth digging into the sensitive patch of your skin, making you cry out loud. Satoru pouted before he let go of your ass, only to swing his hand down and give your butt a sharp slap, making you yell loudly.

“We could have been fucking you like the dirty slut you are, but instead, we held ourselves back because we didn’t want to scare you off.” Satoru growled, his hand making its way to your hair, grabbing a handful before he pulled harshly. You gasped as your head was tossed back, your boyfriends face looking down on you as his grip on your hair continued to be tight and unforgiving.

“Every time we fuck you- we’ve wanted to go wild.” Suguru confessed, his large hand slipping into your shirt, making you shiver as he touched your bare skin, “So next time, just be honest and save us the trouble, hmm?”

“You’re going to make it up to us.” Satoru said, leaning down to kiss your lips, a quick peck before he pulled away, a dark look in his eyes, “Get ready. We’re making those fantasies come true.”

~~~~~

Your hands trembled, instinctively tugging at the handcuffs that held you tight against the headboard. The cool metal dug into your skin, showing no signs of letting up. Hands handcuffed above your bed, naked as the day you were born, you were at the mercy of your two men and they made sure of that.

Suguru giggled at your cute little yelp as he increased the speed of the vibrator, his grip of the wand tightening before he pressed it down harder on your clit. You screamed around Satoru’s cock, the man’s dick shoved down your throat, making you gag. He was practically straddling your head, knees on either side of your shoulders while Suguru sat between your spread legs, their eyes greedily taking in your nakedness.

“Yeah? You like that?” Satoru asked, looking down at you with a teasing grin on his face, sweat dripping down his brow. He was naked, veins throbbing in his arms as he gripped onto the headboard tightly, rolling his hips into your face, groaning at the sensation of you trying your best to take his fat dick. “You like that vibrator on your slutty little pussy, don’t you? Hmm? Like having my cock down your throat?” he asked, pausing his thrusting for a second to fully press his cock deep inside you, laughing as he felt you gag loudly around him.

“Oh, she loves it~” Suguru purred, dick aching in his boxers (wearing nothing but his underwear) as he ground the wand vibrator against you, mercilessly attacking your clit, “Her cunt is dripping~”

“Poor baby~ You must be so pent up since we’ve been making love to you like you were a princess. Guess we have to fuck you like a whore, hmm?” Satoru asked, biting his lower lip as he started thrusting into your mouth again. His muscles tensed, tossing his head back to moan as your sweet little tongue lapped at the underside of his cock, his heavy balls pressing against your chin every time he thrust.

“Stay. Still.” Suguru said with a click of his tongue as one arm gripped onto your knee tightly, the other still torturing you with the vibrator, “Keep moving your legs like that and I’ll punish you.”

You whined, your sounds taken by Satoru’s member, your body getting overstimulated. With a fat cock down your throat and Suguru playing with your pussy, you couldn’t help but start trembling, trying to push your legs together to give yourself a break from the onslaught on your cunt- but Suguru was having none of that.

He ignored your yelp as he pulled the vibrator away, taking away your pleasure so suddenly. But you barely had time to process that as he raised his hand and brought it down on your pussy, giving it a harsh, tight slap. You screamed from the pain, the vibrations of your mouth making Satoru moan as Suguru started spanking your pussy again and again. Slap after slap rained down on your cunt, the raven-haired man holding one leg tightly by the ankle while pushing away the other with his knee, truly keeping you spread as he spanked your pussy.

Your whole body writhed from the pain, the stinging sensation of Suguru marking your puffy pussy lips red. Your hands struggled against the handcuffs even more, your torso tossing and turning, Satoru giving you some mercy as he gently pulled his cock out of your mouth.

“Sorry! Fuck- I’m sorry- I’m sorry!” you pleaded through your gasps and coughs, and crying as Suguru slapped your cunt so hard it made you dizzy for a second, “Please- no more!”.

“No more what?”

“No more spankings- P-Please! Please don’t s-spank my p-pussy!” you begged, ears turning red from the embarrassment. You heard Satoru giggle above you, the man clearly more sadistic than you ever imagined as he tugged at his member, enjoying the scene of his best friend breaking you down perfectly. Even him touching himself right in front of you was torturous, your eyes homing in on the precum dripping out of his red tip, his cock covered in your saliva.

“I thought you liked it, baby.” Suguru said, taking some mercy on you as he gently rubbed your cunt, easing some of the burn, “Your characters get their pussy’s spanked so often. Don’t you feel bad for them if it hurts so much?”

“I didn’t- I didn’t know.” You sobbed, “It hurts- fuck- but it hurts so good!”

“Fuuuck Baby!” Satoru groaned, gripping the base of his cock tightly, his face red and excited, “Almost came from that~ I love seeing you look so pathetic for us.”

You whimpered, turning your face to feel Satoru’s warmth as he gently wiped a tear away from your eye. Suguru chuckled, leaning down to place a kiss to your cunt, your skin hot against his lips. Your back arched as he ran his tongue up your pussy, the man groaning as he tasted your slick, drinking you down like a drug.

“Oh~ I want a taste of that pussy too~” Satoru purred before he changed his position. Your eyes widened as he turned around, adjusting himself so his cock was once again over your face only now, he was facing your pussy in a classic 69. “Open up, princess.” He said, smirking as he pushed his cock into your mouth just as you opened your lips, “Suck my cock while we- oh yeah- play with this pussy~”

Satoru grabbed the back of your thighs, holding onto you tightly as he dipped his head between your legs, Suguru moving out of the way so his friend could mouth at your pussy. You squealed around his cock, the man already starting to thrust as he wrapped his lips around your clit before he sucked harshly. “Mmmph- fuck yes~” he moaned, lightly picking up the pace as he once again started fucking your throat, “This pussy is so fucking tasty~”

He opened his mouth wide and started flicking his tongue on your clit, letting out a lewd sound as he tortured your sensitive bud with his tongue. Not one to sit idly by, Suguru allowed his friend to tongue your cunt while he gently slid a finger inside you.

“Look at that. My finger went in so easily, baby.” Suguru said as he gently thrust the finger in and out of you, “This isn’t enough for you, is it?”

You whined around Satoru’s cock, unable to respond. But they understood. Suguru slid a second finger inside you, the slick sound of your cunt parting for him echoing through the air lewdly. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he curled his fingers inside you just right, pussy gushing from the sensation. Satoru was still licking at your clit, giving your bud the occasional nibble to keep you on edge.

“Oh, you like that, don’t you?” Suguru asked as he watched Satoru lick you up, his own fingers drenched, your juices dripping down, “Cock in your mouth as we play with your pussy like you’re our little toy~ Our sweet little fuck toy we can use?”

Your toes curled and your muscles tensed, opening your throat up as much as possible as Satoru mercilessly face fucked you, his balls slapping against you as he chased his pleasure. The metal of the handcuffs dug into your skin, your fingers clenching around nothing as you were driven closer and closer to your orgasm.

You were so close you could taste it, your mind descending into nothing but pleasure, the two men perfectly breaking you down into the slut they know you are. You fantasised about them as you wrote your fanfiction and for it to actually be coming true- you didn’t know how to handle it.

You were so close- so close! Your body tightened and your pussy clenched around Suguru’s fingers, the familiar sensation of an orgasm making itself known. You already knew this would be one of the strongest climaxes you’d experience and it almost scared you. But you were ready. You wanted this. You needed this. You needed them!

Your moans picked up the pace, getting louder and louder around Satoru’s cock, still obediently sucking him off as your body trembled. You were gonna cum! Cumming- cumming-

Only for them to stop.

You let out a scream as Satoru pulled his cock out of your mouth, both of them able to hear your shouts. You arched off the bed, your body trembling from the sudden absence of pleasure, your legs kicking at the mattress like a toddler as you writhed on the bed.

“Why? Why- I was so close- so close!” you sobbed, tugging at the handcuffs in a desperate attempt to touch yourself, only for it to be futile.

“Aww, poor princess.” Satoru cooed, kneeling over you still, his cock dripping your saliva back onto his face lewdly, “did you really think it would be that easy?”

“We’re going to edge you all night.” Suguru said, finally undoing his boxers before pushing it off, getting completely naked, “It’s your punishment for keeping your sluttiness a secret from us.”

You could barely muster up a protest as you were distracted by Suguru’s cock. His cock was just as beautiful as Satoru’s- long, thick and oh so delicious. He took your breath away everytime he got inside you, his skills rendering you a whining mess.

“If you try and cum without us knowing,” Suguru said, knowing your body like the back of your hand and well aware that you were close to your orgasm, “You’re going to be in a world of pain. Now come on. Beg for it.” He started teasingly slapping your pussy with his member, each strike making you twitch, “You know how to beg, right? Your characters beg so sweetly in your stories- I’m sure you can do it too~”

You gulped, mouth drooling and pussy trembling, their hard cocks right in front of you but refusing to get inside you. “P-Please.” You pleaded, feeling a rush of shame overcome you by uttering the word. “Do better than that.” Suguru said, his hand now on his member and lightly stroking it, showing you what you were missing out on. “I- Fuck- I need you! Both of you!” you said desperately. “Keep going~” Satoru purred, his tip just a hairs breath away from your lips, also close to orgasm, “what do you need?” “I need- fuck- I need your c-cocks!” you begged, tears in your eyes as you shamelessly conveyed your desires, “I need you inside me- I need you to fuck me!” “Good girl.” Suguru said, groaning as he finally- finally- started to push inside you, “And remember. No cumming.”

You tossed your head back, eyes rolling to the back of your head as Suguru started spreading you apart, inch after inch burying into your sopping cunt. It was a delicious sensation, his cock stretching you out wonderfully, his thick cock giving you a nice burn. Suguru hissed as his dick was enveloped in your tight wetness, the texture of your pussy walls hugging it perfectly. His balls clenched and he knew he wouldn’t last long- the feeling of finally being able to treat you like the kinky slut you were driving him to the edge. They don’t call him a pleasure dom for nothing.

Without even saying anything, Satoru took advantage of your open mouth to jam his dick back inside your mouth, laughing at the surprised yelp and loud gag you let out. “I’m close baby~” he moaned as he was surrounded by your addicting heat again, “Make sure you drink it all when I cum down this slutty mouth pussy~”

They both started to fuck you mercilessly at once. And all you could do was lie there and take it. Suguru made you wrap your legs against his waist, leaning into you as he started pounding your cunt, balls slapping against you each time he thrust into you. Your pussy was so wet and hot- the sensation like a drug as he pounded you, his cock slamming against your cervix with each thrust.

“Fuck- I love this fucking pussy!” he groaned, tossing his head back as he mercilessly pounded you, chasing his pleasure, “So perfect for us- so greedy and desperate- want to fucking ruin you!”

“Mmm~ I can’t wait to fuck this slutty cunt~” Satoru said between moans, fucking down on your mouth as a hand came up to spread apart your pussy lips, giving him a perfect view of Suguru fucking your hole. “Pass me the vibrator, will you?”

You yelped, knowing exactly what he had planned as Satoru got a hold of the vibrator, switched it on before he placed it against your clit. You screamed around his cock, body thrashing at the overstimulation. The toy rubbed against your clit, the speed on the highest setting, making your vision blurry as he assaulted your sensitive bud.

“Fuck- oh yeah- that’s fucking great!” Suguru moaned, the vibration of the toy giving him added pleasure as well, “she tightened around me so much- fuck- slutty little pussy!”

You were in heaven and hell. The two men were using you in such a filthy fashion, making your body tremble from the intense pleasure. Suguru was fucking you so perfectly, his cock hitting your g-spot every time he thrust into you, your pleasure heightened by Satoru playing with your clit. He’d use the toy or sometimes even lean down to lick at your clit again, his hair brushing against Suguru’s abdomen every time he thrust forward. They were both so desperate and horny for you and it was amazing.

But, every time you were close, they’d stop.

You didn’t even need to say it- your moans and your body language was enough for them to know when you were about to cum and every time, without fail, they’d ruin your orgasm. Suguru would pull out and Satoru would stop playing with your clit, opting to slap your pussy and call it a ‘bad cunt’ as he took your climax away from you. Suguru once pinched your clit so harshly you swore you blacked out. Once they thought you weren’t going to cum, they’d get back into it.

“Oh baby!” Satoru moaned, finally reaching his climax. He forgoed the toy and instead focused on fucking your face, wanting to cum, “I’m close! Yes! Yes! Oh you naughty little minx! We’re going to have so much fucking fun with you!”

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as you got pounded from both ends- your jaw beyond sore. With a few more thrusts, Satoru finally came. He tossed his head back and moaned loudly, his cock lodged as deep as it could go inside you. He started to cum down your throat, giving you no choice but to drink it all up. You could feel his balls clench against you as he came, his hot seed pouring down your throat, warming you up from the inside.

“Ohhh yesss!” Satoru moaned, his body shuddering as he gently thrust his hips, milking his balls of every drop, “That’s it- oh yes~ That’s a good slut~”

You gagged around him, struggling to breathe and to drink down his cum, happy to have given him pleasure but distracted by Suguru still pounding into you. You were waiting for Satoru to get off of you and give your jaw some peace but…

He once again got his face close to your pussy, resting his elbows on the mattress and his chin on his hands as he stared like a pervert as Suguru fucking your cunt.

“Enjoying the show?” Suguru asked with a laugh, his body running a bit hotter at Satoru staring.

“Mmhmm,” Satoru said with a smile before he addressed you, “Keep cockwarming me, baby. Get me hard again so I can fuck this pussy next~”

Oh. Oh God.

“Fuck- I’m close!” Suguru groaned through gritted teeth, “And she’s close too- I can feel it!”

“Yeah?” Satoru asked, rolling his hips in a circle as he leisurely enjoyed your mouth like it was a fleshlight, “Should we let her cum? She’s been such a good girl for us.”

You whined around him, feeling like this entire night was you whining, trying your best to beg around Satoru’s cock in your mouth. You could feel him grow harder inside you, the sadist loving the fact that he made you so pathetic.

“Nah.” Suguru said, sweating as he pounded you mercilessly, “Not yet.”

“You hear that, baby?” Satoru asked, “You better not cum~”

You sobbed, tears pouring down your cheeks as they decided to continue torturing you.

“You gonna cum inside her?” Satoru asked his friend, knowing him well enough to know he was about to cum. “Fuck- I want to so fucking badly but- I don’t think she deserves it yet!”  “Awww, the poor thing. She has such a huge breeding kink too!” “I know. Fuck- I’d love to dump inside this cunt and breed her but- fuck- I still think she needs to learn her lesson! Naughty little sluts who keep things from their boyfriends gets fucking punished! Oh fuck- yes- cumming- I’m cumming!”

With a shout, once again denying you your orgasm, Suguru quickly pulled out of you with the intention of finishing on you. “Fuck- Satoru!” Suguru moaned as the white haired man suddenly grabbed his member and started jerking him off. Satoru laughed at Suguru’s moans, his hand almost a blur as he jacked off his best friend, aiming the tip right at your pussy. In a matter of seconds, Suguru let out a loud moan as he came, tossing his head back as the pleasure hit him like a truck. He trembled as ropes and ropes of cum shot out of his cock, his balls clenching with each pump as he came all over your pussy. He stained your cunt white, making you whine as all of that cum wasn’t pumped inside you.

“Oh~ Look at all that cum on this pretty pussy~” Satoru moaned, letting go of Suguru to instead pet at your pussy, his fingers rubbing the cum into your skin before he collected a bit of it on his fingers to shove inside you. You gasped, body still on edge, your mind a mess of pleasure and humiliation as Satoru stuffed his friends cum into your pussy. He took some mercy on you and pulled his cock out of your mouth, enjoying your gasps and moans as you took in deep breaths, choking on your own spit as he got off of you.

“Please!” you begged, crying and you voice hoarse, “Please- Please let me cum! I need it! I’ll do anything!”

“Shhhh, relax, princess.” Suguru cooed as he and Satoru switched places, the white haired man settling between your legs with his cock hard once more, eager to fuck your cunt. You whimpered and cried as Suguru lied down next to you, his dick still hard and ready for more as he leaned down to kiss you, a sweet moment among all the depravity.

His hand gripped a breast, squeezing your boob as he kissed you, slipping his tongue into your mouth and making your body tingle from the sensation. He finally parted just as Satoru slipped his dick inside you, smiling as he watched your eyes water and your jaw drop from the sensation.

“Don’t start crying already, baby.” Suguru said, watching as your body started to bounce up and down from Satoru’s thrusts, Satoru immediately fucking you in a fast pace, “We’ve only just begun~”

[bao3bei4]

why zines? how zines?

i was on a panel at fanworks con 2023 about zines today. it was a lot of fun! i decided to turn my portion of the talk into a post for my friends who couldn’t make it to the panel. 

this post includes my thoughts on: 

why make a zine

how to generate ideas for zines

how to finish your zines

how to build an audience for your zines

so why zines? what are they? [ZEENS, rhymes with beans], pronounced that way because it’s a shortened form of the word magazine, are basically just that: self published magazines. but why make a zine over, say, a blog post? or any other piece of art. 

i have basically three reasons. the first is that making little books is cool. it’s genuinely awesome to make physical zines and have the product of your labor in your hand. it’s a great feeling to finish a project and feel a concrete reward, and a lot of times we don’t get that in our lives.

the second reason is that zines give you absolute editorial control. you can put anything you want on a page. whatever layout, whatever order, whatever fold, whatever content. you name it, you can do it. this is something other venues rarely give you. for artists, it’s phenomenal. and for the rest of us, it gives us the ability to become artists for a little bit, as we lay things out.

the third reason is that zines can be absolute shit. in fact, the more shit they are, the more diy and punk they are. they have an incredible lineage of stolen copy paper and anarchist politics. all that to say, is that there are no standards. the zine ethos is say what you wanna say. it’s tremendously freeing to go fuck polish and respectability, i’m making my project.

because of these three reasons, i want to encourage you to get started making zines by describing common challenges and worries and giving you several practical tips for each on working past them. so, in order, they’re “i don’t know what to make a zine about,” “i struggle to finish projects,” and “no one will read my zines.” let’s get into it.

first up, “i don’t know what to make a zine about.” i think this one is pretty common, even for experienced zine creators. sometimes you’re in the mood to make things but you have no clue what. a lot of people suggest to just go with random words or whatever pops into your head, but i’m picky! i find that unsatisfying! so here are some tips for people in the same boat. 

ONE: what’s distracting you? work with it. because anything can be a zine, let the things you’ve already done serve as inspiration. photos you’ve taken can be formatted into a zine. is there a game sucking up your attention? make a zine about it. the song stuck in your head can turn into a lyricbook, forgotten works in progress or sketches can be resurrected, cannibalized, or even published as incomplete zines. if you’ve been busy with real life, maybe the recipes you’ve been making—even if, especially if, they’re struggle meals, can turn into zines. interview your most interesting friend. summarize a book you read recently. even if you’ve just been doomscrolling, that’s a zine too! i got a zine last weekend called bay area newsreel which was collecting recent articles about local news from leftist perspectives gathered up into a handy volume. your attention is a gift, so look at what zine fodder it’s accumulated for you naturally. 

SECOND: add a twist. sometimes i have an idea but it isn’t quite right. it just seems too straightforward. so i try to develop along a single axis of content or form. what this means is basically go against your instincts, or rather, your first impulse. that first idea is very hard to walk away from, but doing so often gives you an idea that gets you unstuck. so for content, add a different perspective. for me this is often a theoretical approach. when i was stuck on my scum villain zine, turning it into freud zine let the words start flowing. next, on form: present it differently than your first instinct is to. if my first thought is “essay,” i try to figure out how to chunk out the information into modules or how to add interactivity or what kind of illustrations to add. if my first thought is “this could be a fic or comic,” i try turning it into an essay. saying things a different way often gives you a new perspective on the content as well. 

THIRD: copy! make your take on the same thing as someone else. it’s not stealing—well, ideally it isn’t. make your original take and give credit where credit is due and ask permission if necessary. but engage with the medium!!! making zines without reading zines is the same thing as trying to write a paper without citing sources, or a novel without reading your contemporaries. that is, you can do it, but it’s hard. zines are a genre into themselves so figure out how to situate yourself in their ongoing dialogue. an example of this from my own practice is that i own a zine about queer gods and mythological creatures from chinese history. reading it i was like. why don’t they talk about this. why don’t they talk about that. and that became the basis for my own zine, guaitai the strange and the queer which focused on queer chinese history and literature instead. different zine, same inspiration. 

all of my ideas suppose you have SOMETHING going on. what if you truly have nothing. my advice? adapted from my “how to write an essay” blog post, is to read a book. read an article. read something. and then post about it. and then turn your posts into a zine. don’t start entirely from scratch — give yourself a scaffolding. so first. read something and tell someone about it. i wasn’t lying about calling myself a consummate poster. it’s a big part of my thought process. 

second up, what if “i struggle to finish projects.” i’m no stranger to having a bunch of half finished half started projects lying around. but here are some zine-specific tips i have for addressing that.

FIRST! go smaller; go shittier. reduce the scope of your projects. make one pagers, lists. once when i was feeling stymied, i made a physical zine about movies i’d watched that month, just listing them with a couple bullet points on each film. i eventually turned it into a bigger digital zine where i listed movies i’d watched over the past several months with more thoughts on them, and nicely formatted. but that was something that came out of reducing my scope from “i need to write a manifesto on a movie i’ve watched recently” to “well i can just tell people about it” to “i can say two things about it.” and something actually got finished.

SECOND. your friends are a great tool for accountability. something i like to do is zine jams with my friends. nothing fancy, it’s just we’ll sit down for an hour and go we’re going to make something in this hour. or, for a bigger scope, we might work separately but commit to making a zine that weekend. it’s nice to have community and it’s nice to feel a little bit of a friendly deadline. i recommend this even if you DON’T have problems finishing zines. it’s a good time. 

THIRD. a lot of times if the words aren’t coming easily, it’s because i’m not trying to say the right thing. keep in mind that your zines don’t have to be “content.” this little paper zine i made about movies wasn’t made to share online; in fact, it’s not available online. i didn’t make it according to what other people would see or be interested in. you can and will burn out on making “marketable” content. corollary to this: sometimes what i have to say is something i DON’T want to share online. it might not be that it’s boring, it might be that it’s too personal. and i share a lot online, i write personal essays after all. but some projects i stall on because they’re really just for me, and i’m again, focused on making content. so this piece of advice is about rejecting the tyranny of the imaginary audience. 

and the next challenge is about embracing that audience! what if no one reads your zines, something that’s entirely possible. well there’s plenty you can do about that.

FIRST. cultivate zine community. read other people’s zines! talk to them about their zines! this greatly increases the chance that they will do the same for you. don’t go in expecting reciprocity; do it for its own sake, but it’s a great place to start. try asking people at zine fests if they’d be willing to trade with you, for instance. 

SECOND. write for yourself. it’s cheesy but it’s true. you really have to. if you’re not proud and happy with what you’re making on its own merits, what’s the point. now because this is a cop out tip, i’m not counting it as a tip on its own. 

so SECOND PART TWO. make your zines more accessible. if they’re not free, make them free—yes, you deserve to be compensated for your work, but it’s up to you to decide if you want a bigger audience first. if your zines aren’t short, make them shorter. make them short enough that you can post their entirety on social media or something else easy for your audience to consume. it’s a big ask sometimes to get someone to download your pdf! if they’re physical, hand them out to people you meet. remove all the barriers to entry.

THIRD. related to this, change medium. if you’re not making physical zines, try printing them out. if you’re not making digital zines, try digitizing them. both of these offer access to new audiences and new people who might be more interested in one form than another. 

i hope these thoughts encourage you to make a zine! if you do, please let me see it. i love reading zines. 

[g1rlr0b1n]

Look guys!!! It's G1rlR0b1n 💖💖💖 (bet you didn't know this is what my handle meant lol)

Yet another commission by the super talented @tamdrry!!! (this was done a while ago I just hadn't gotten around to posting it)

So, there was actually a fic that was supposed to go along with this but... I never got around to finishing it 😭

If you want to see what I had planned to write you can check it out under the cut. 👇

One of my personal headcanons is that Damian is nonbinary (or trans but for this particular story, just nonbinary for now)

Anyway, he starts to discover this after spending a lazy afternoon with Cass and Steph in Cass's room.

They're cleaning out her closet and think it'd be fun to play dress up with her little brother. He relents because he likes feeling included and he enjoys their company and doesn't 'want to mess this up'. They're several piece swaps and a whole makeover in when the girls finally settle on what they have decide is the perfect 'fit. Damian turns to see himself in the mirror, mini skirt, crop top, fish nets, combat boots, smoky cat-eye, glossy lips, and he just…freezes… doesn't react… until he does. He starts to cry and flees from the room. The girls don't know what to do but they run after him. He nearly knocks Bruce over in the hallway, then the girls come storming after and he stops them.

Bruce: what's going on?

Steph (she looks worried): we were just messing around, we didn't mean to make him cry!

Cass (also upset and crying herself): we didn't mean to hurt him.

Bruce: ok, let me talk to him. Go back to your room, we'll chat in a bit. Try to calm down, ok?

The girls nod reluctantly but turn and go back to Cass's room. Bruce had long suspected that Damian may be having a difficult time with self-discovery from little things he's picked up on and from when he was at that age himself. he had a feeling something like this would be coming sooner than later, after all, emotions and individuality were not traits looked highly upon by the League of Assassins… or (he admits) with the Batman. he knocks on his door and when there is no answer he peeks in. Damian is sitting on the carpet in front of his floor length mirror.

Bruce: hey chum

Damian:

Bruce: can I sit down?

He says nothing again but scootches over slightly

Bruce: you wanna talk about it?

Damian:

Bruce: Cass and Steph think they've upset you.

Damian shakes his head: I'm not mad at them. (He emphasizes the word 'them')

Bruce: are you mad at yourself?

Damian nods but says nothing else. Bruce pulls him into a hug and he allows it, buries his face into him, cries, and Bruce just holds him there. They say nothing else until Damian finally let's go an eternity later. Bruce tells him he won't make him talk about it and he won't make him explain himself to the girls but he is going to tell Cass and Steph that he isn't upset with them unless he would like to do it himself (he'll tell them nothing more than that, he emphasizes). Damian's not ready to face them, he tells his father he can relay the message, and he does, later once Damian has asked to be left alone. The girls are relieved, they don't ask questions, they respect Damian's privacy. It's one of the reasons why Damian loves them.

A week later Bruce takes Damian to go to a fashion show with him, he goes because his father has been nagging him to put more effort into him public persona long before this anyway. There he sees androgynous models wearing mashups of typically male and female clothing and something starts to click. He feels seen for the first time but the feeling is uncomfortable and he begins to sink into himself, Bruce pulls him into his side, and he doesn't pull away.

Another week goes by and Damian comes home to find a large box on his bed, tied up with a large red ribbon. There is a tag that just reads, "fighting evil by moonlight". He opens the box and there is a new Robin uniform inside reminiscent of one of his favorite characters, Sailor Moon. The tears he cries are from happiness this time.

[chxrrie-bxmb]

idk if this is something we've stated before and it's not something we've personally seen, more something we've heard talked about, but I still wanna say this to make it clear.

while we are anti-endo and will stand our ground on that for literally the rest of our life, we do not condone fakeclaiming or harassment. we don't condone threats, we don't condone violence, and we especially don't condone wishing bad things upon someone. while we don't believe that endos are systems in the way the term is defined, that doesn't mean we think (most of) their experiences aren't real. sure, some endos online probably are just acting for clout. that happens with every disorder in the book. but it's far more likely that a lot of them just don't know what's going on and jumped to the first label they saw and are sticking with it to avoid being wrong. it's also far more likely that there's a completely different disorder in the mix that either makes them think their symptoms are related to DID or straight up fabricates whatever symptoms they believe they have. no one will know unless they make the choice to go to therapy if they can.

no, endos are not and never will be accepted on our page because our space isn't made for them. our space is made for people who are suffering from this disorder because of severe trauma. we have every right to decide who we do and don't want interacting with our blog and, therefore, interacting with us. we can't interact with people who act like they understand our struggles when they really don't. it's uncomfortable and frustrating for us, which is why we avoid the endo community entirely.

bottom line is: just avoid the community. purposefully going after people is just dumb, in my opinion. all you're doing is bring them into your own spaces, fueling their fire, and giving them more reasons to harp on traumatized people for being "toxic".

that's our piece, and now we're gonna go back to not really posting anything about syscourse lol

[genericpuff]

The Extended Mishandling of LO's S3 Midseason Finale Premiere

Alright, so I had mentioned leading up to the release of the newest LO episode that my feelings regarding LO returning were pretty "meh". Not hyped, but not completely back of mind either. Just sort of a weird calm before the storm type feeling that could go either way.

I'm glad I got to have that moment of calmness because good god, this episode was an absolute shitshow. And honestly, I'm not surprised, for several reasons:

Rachel has never been good at maintaining a buffer, even back at the start of the series she only ever had 2-3 episodes ready ahead of her schedule which is NOT an ideal buffer for an originals series.

Rachel has never been good at writing, she's very "draw first write later" and has stated as such in interviews that when she gets 'stuck' on what she's writing, she'll just start drawing and fit the pieces in later.

Four months is NOT enough time to both rest, attend massive conventions, and work on improving a project while also getting buffer episodes ready.

Because of the FP episodes remaining locked over the hiatus, technically Rachel only needed to have ONE episode ready upon return for the newest FP release, not multiple like she'd usually need like in the past during the S2 midseason hiatus or the season finale episodes which would unlock those FP releases like normal - so for all we know, she could have drawn this episode literally last week, especially when the promo material was so last minute. Frankly I think it was REALLY stupid for whoever it was who decided to keep these FP episodes locked (whether it was her or WT, it was more likely WT) but you can read all I have to say about that in my review of the midseason finale episodes.

All that's to say, no, there was never any guarantee Rachel was going to somehow "turn around" the ride we're currently on. I know that many of the critics were hoping for that to happen, but with the circumstances of the hiatus mixed with Rachel's bad habits of putting her best efforts into the procrastination projects that aren't her actual comic (ex. the few original pieces and LO sketches she put out during the hiatus) it just wasn't in the cards. This is where the comic is at and this is where it will remain until it's over.

I want to also point something out about this episode that was... really glaring to me.

As with all of these hiatus returns, LO got priority advertising in the first two banner slots and push notifications AND a popup ad within the app. This is unsurprising, Webtoons is still trying to milk this thing for what it's worth.

I know a lot of people are gonna focus on the art, or the fact that WT is continuing to shill LO, but I wanna point out the part that WT implemented specifically - "NEW SEASON".

This is literally just false. At best I'd like to think some intern just messed up and thought this was a new season, but it's literally not, the episode designation still says "S3". Note that the creators only design the banner art, the actual labels on top are put there by Webtoons.

But at worst, this feels like blatant lying to continue to hide the fact that LO is ending. Mind you, Rachel and Webtoons have still not put out official posts stating that this is the final arc. There is NOTHING from either of them to communicate to the audience that the comic is ending next year. It feels like they're trying to avoid the topic altogether out of fear of losing the fanbase they still have, rather than hyping up the comic's end for those who have stuck around to see how it all wraps up. And honestly, I wouldn't be surprised if this was the case, considering they're now trying to funnel the fanbase into Penguin/Inklore with new marketing deals and the whole Rachel Smythe Presents thing. They're trying to make this seem like the beginning of something "new" when it's really just a quiet shifting of management (Penguin House).

But all that aside, let's actually get into the episode. It's one episode after 4 months, which is not standard for LO's hiatuses, typically FP episodes release on schedule (meaning free readers start hiatuses 3 weeks after FP readers do), the only time this has been an exception has been with the 2 week breaks because the whole point of those was to build a buffer (which you can't do if you're going ahead and releasing the FP episodes anyways). For extended hiatuses like these, usually free readers still get their FP episodes, but that wasn't the case here. That means Rachel technically only needed one episode ready for the comic's return, and it shows. It really fucking shows.

FROM HERE ON OUT THERE WILL BE FASTPASS SPOILERS REGARDING EPISODE 254. DO NOT CONTINUE IF YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE SPOILED !!!

As per tradition, we get a title that means nothing at all. It just says what we already know.

Our collective husband Zeus is dying, no thanks to the poison cupcake fed to him by Apollo. For those who don't remember, Apollo had tricked Zeus into eating the cupcake by making him believe it was from Hebe. We are fully aware that it was Apollo who poisoned him. Remember that for later in this review.

Right off the bat we're off to a hilarious start, both with a cryptid appearance from Apollo in the background (lmao) who is, for some reason, ALREADY returning to the scene of the crime he just committed because... who knows at this point. Apollo and Psyche know it was Apollo at this point, I might add, but I have no clue why Apollo is actually returning to the scene of the crime when he has no idea Eros and Psyche know.

Moving on from that, can we talk about this hilarious dialogue?

"We have to call a doctor! Let's call Asclepius!"

"No, we can't trust him! Gosh darn it, why are we only bothering to think of ONE doctor in this universe where we've seen more than one doctor?? Guess Zeus is just gonna die! What a horribly contrived situation this is!"

And that's literally how I can best describe most of this episode. Contrived. There is a LOT of manufactured drama in this that makes ZERO sense even on a surface level.

And what do you mean exactly, Eros? "What a terrible system!" Is this supposed to be a joke? Lampshading? We've seen Persephone go to the gynecologist. There are non-god doctors who tend to gods all the time here.

Eros just doesn't seem to be that pressed over this, he sounds like Ned Flanders and that's NOT a good way to open up a scene like this... let alone an episode people have been waiting four months for.

Anyways, after a few pointless reaction panels (again remember I have to cut a lot of what I show here for Tumblr image limitations but I promise you, I'm keeping as much important stuff as I can in this, there's just THAT MUCH filler at this point), Eros and Psyche confront Apollo and he is... good god.

There is... so much to unpack here.

First of all, remember those theories about how Rachel was clearly trying to write Apollo as this "secret twist villain" the whole time but it doesn't work because Apollo is simultaneously written as both a 'conniving villain' and a massive dumbass at the same time?

Well, I finally have a more appropriate term for him. He's your average red pill redditor - someone who thinks he's smarter than everyone else when really all he does is sit on reddit all day using big words incorrectly in arguments he gets himself into with a bunch of equally-air-headed dumbasses.

"You can't possibly understand the nuances of the Olympian political system," Apollo said proudly, a man who had, ironically and obliviously, run for president in a monarchy. The union of kettle and pot is eternal.

He's the Slappable Jerk but instead of it being a painfully hilarious impression, it's just painful and hilarious for all the wrong reasons.

this is so stupid because it's 1.) Eros pointing out how obvious Apollo's plan was, despite Apollo acting smart two seconds ago with a goddess who, mind you, has been a goddess for ten years, and 2.) patricide isn't even intrinsically linked to politics, there's nothing 'political' about a guy trying to kill his dad except in, idk, a monarchy, which again, Apollo has spent ten years trying to rise to power in as a president which is a completely different form of government.

If I wanted to be really granular with this, I'd like to think Apollo is making some kind of point about the critics who call out LO's whack as fuck political system (especially in the trial arc) - as if he's saying "well you're just a stupid reader and this is fantasy where you don't understand exactly what political system we're using, so shut the fuck up you stupid twig" - but I don't think it's meant to be that deep. I think it's just Rachel trying to write a smart character and then failing at it because she, herself, is not a smart writer. And I'm really inclined to believe that more than the theory about this being some kind of meta-narrative about the critics because this entire plotline is contrived and stupid down to its core.

I did not cut anything out here, that's the pacing. Leto literally just appears out of nowhere and uh oh spaghettio's, she has Kassandra! Remember Leto? The character we were led to believe was truly "pulling the strings" until she disappeared from the story completely after she realized that Apollo and Persephone weren't a thing, even going so far as to call out her own son for being a fucking dumbass? Well, she's back and once again she's being involved as some kind of "double agent" in this whole thing, even though we literally haven't seen her since halfway through S2.

"Mm yes, you're so stupid, falling into my trap! Even though you had no reason to remember Kassandra anyways because she's literally a mortal woman you just met and you yourself have committed acts of violence against mortals without a shred of care! I'm so smart! My plan is all coming together!"

We've never seen Apollo do anything except cry and poop his pants, the closest he got to being "powerful" was his attempts to murder Daphne (who he seems to have forgotten about in this "master plan" of his) but ultimately he's literally just a piss ant baby and there's no reason to believe that he could somehow outmatch the God of Love who can literally manipulate people's emotions and states of mind with his arrows. But yeah sure go off, you're so powerful and smart.

The worst part is, I can't even buy this as the narrative trying to be like "see how manipulative and conniving he is?" because it's just silly. We've SEEN this man cry with his victim complex, we've seen him say and do the DUMBEST things that don't lend to any amount of "intelligence" he may have, it comes across less as him being "smart the whole time" and more as him trying to sound smart but ultimately sounding incredibly stupid. And I can't even immerse myself into it and buy that maybe that's the point, because it doesn't feel like the point, it just feels like inconsistent writing, he doesn't feel like a 'threat', he's just monologuing.

Bad art and Apollo literally just repeating what Leto already implied so this is a waste of the audience's time.

This is the funniest panel in the whole episode because I can't tell if Apollo is supposed to be in the background (for some reason, despite him literally being in front of Eros and Psyche two seconds ago) or if he's in the foreground and just REALLY small for some reason. This is so off-putting. And of course, it's just Apollo explaining what we're ALREADY SEEING ONSCREEN.

You see, in addition to this episode being contrived, it also talks down to its audience a LOT by explaining exactly what we're seeing onscreen. It's like Rachel saw the criticisms about her not including enough to depict what's actually going on in her head and so she thought the solution was to spoon feed information over pictures that are already doing the job of explaining what's going on. Rachel really doesn't know how to write and even when she tries to implement changes that reflect criticisms that have been made of her writing, she somehow makes things worse because she completely misses the point of what those criticisms are trying to get across.

Anyways, without even trying to resist (for some reason) Eros and Psyche get sentenced to horny jail.

They're now trapped in a basement that Leto somehow has in her home. How do we know that?

HAHAHA FUNNY LAMPSHADING SO FUNNNYYYYYYY

Leto claims that they shouldn't try to escape because the dungeon is "enchanted", but she doesn't even bother to explain what that means. So they literally don't bother trying. They don't try to call her bluff, they don't try to teleport out of there, they literally just go "well shoot", shrug their shoulders, and accept their fate. Just like with the whole "we can't trust the only doctor we bothered to think of" situation, Eros and Psyche are turning out to be some of the stupidest, lowest-effort characters in this comic who literally can't be bothered to try because that would require too much brain power.

Notice how much time we've spent on this and we haven't gotten back to where the cliffhanger of the last episode left off? Well buckle up because there's still more to cover.

So it turns out Hebe was still inside with her dad, in FULL VIEW of what was going on through glass which is somehow COMPLETELY soundproof, and when Apollo steps inside, she just has no idea what happened. She never bothered to even look outside to see what was going on with Eros and Psyche, she's just been sitting on the floor staring at Zeus' dead face for what was likely several minutes, unless Rachel is seriously trying to convince us that conversation and hostage negotiation from earlier only took 2 seconds. The timeline is such a mess at this point that characters basically freeze in place as soon as they're not the focus of the scene.

Apollo rushes inside, acting shocked over the situation, and when Hebe asks where Eros and Psyche are (again, she could have just looked out the window at any time), he's just like "dur idk they just left lol" which Hebe just... buys, I guess.

That's just Persephone but yellow. She's even missing her beauty mark.

See how Apollo put his hand on Zeus' chest/shoulder by the way?

Apparently, despite Mr. Smarter Than Everyone Else trying to pretend it wasn't him, he's able to discern that Zeus is dying from a toxic and rare poison just from touching him. He doesn't even really seem to use his powers, he just touches him and goes "welp he's dead i guess lol don't bother asking me how I know that".

But oh nooo remember that note from before? Well gasp Apollo's gonna use it to frame Hebe! In front of no one else at all!

Hebe of course says she didn't write it, but Apollo continues to try and frame her anyways, even though, again, there's no one else present here, and so it effectively just becomes the most absurd form of gaslighting I've ever seen.

Again, THERE IS NO ONE ELSE HERE IN THE SCENE. He's just trying to claim she did it to absolutely no one at all, in the hopes of... what exactly? That she'll just take the fall for something she knows she didn't do? That she'll somehow be convinced? It's not like Hebe has the same thing going on as Persephone where she has a 'wrathful dark side' he could pin it on, this is just a criminal who just robbed a building pointing at the first person they see and yelling "YOU DID IT!"

All I'm saying is that Apollo would be really bad at Among Us. He'd be the type of player to kill someone, hit the report button, then claim yellow did it which, even if he DID convince the rest of the team, would still get kicked anyways as soon as yellow was proven through the eject to not be the imp and everyone would go "okay cool so yellow wasn't the imp, that means obviously it's purple self-reporting." It's a trick that doesn't even work anymore because of how old it is. Hebe isn't a child here, she's an 18 year old woman who should be fully capable of raising an eyebrow and wondering why Apollo is this quick to accuse her - almost like he's trying to hide the fact that he did it.

But Hebe can't catch onto this, just like Eros and Psyche, she has to act stupid for the sake of the plot.

At first I thought maybe Rachel was trying to do some "whodunit" scenario, but that doesn't work here because we already know who did it. And while there are stories that exist like that that pull it off (ex. Knives Out) the problem with trying to do this the way Rachel did is that the person being framed has to have this thing called motive. The reason why Knives Out and Glass Onion work so well is because the person who was murdered (or conspired against) is someone who is being targeted by multiple people who could all be the murderer. It's quite literally called out in Glass Onion as a form of smart lampshading. "It's like putting a loaded gun on the table, and turning off the lights."

But it doesn't work here because Hebe does not have motive. If you're going to attempt to frame a murder on someone, it has to be someone who would have reasonable motive to commit that murder, even if they didn't actually commit it.

And who among Zeus' children has motive?

What about the war-mongering bloodthirsty god of war who has been regularly sentenced to time in the Mortal Realm to fight in wars in which he's been regularly injured?

What about the chaos-seeking wrathful goddess who would do it to get revenge on the parental figure who cast her aside, or even just for the fun of saying she did it?

Why try and pin it on Hebe, the doting daughter of Zeus who's only had a collective of maybe 20 panels in the entire comic?

But then I realized... it's not Knives Out, it's the fucking Lion King.

Which is just as contrived - if not more - than the assumption this was gonna be some attempt to frame Hebe. It's not. He's literally just trying to keep her from assuming it was him. He could have just as easily played dumb without calling attention to the note but he intentionally went out of his way to try and be Scar from The Lion King , while completely missing the point of why that scene worked in the original movie.

Scar wasn't trying to 'frame' Simba for Mufasa's murder. He was trying to hide the murder, while also attempting to get the only heir to the throne out of the picture, so he passed the guilt of the death onto Simba - a child who, unlike Hebe, wouldn't have the ability to rationalize or realize his uncle his a scumbag - who then ran away from home because he was too terrified to face his family for what happened, assuming that it was all his fault when it wasn't.

That's not how this is panning out here. Hebe is the now 18 year old daughter of Zeus, and not one of his only children. She doesn't even fit into the whole "sons overthrowing their fathers" prophecy like Aries would. Apollo is literally just being a big idiot here by saying "well I'm gonna give you a headstart to run away, because if you stay, I might hurt you" (which btw, should be MORE of a smoking gun that Apollo did it??)

And again, it's all so contrived so that the plot can move forward. "Well I'm going to frame you for this murder, but y'know, you should just leave, I'm not gonna try and press it further lmao"

Again, Apollo is a fucking idiot here, because he just attempted to frame someone who has NO MOTIVE to harm Zeus, to absolutely NO ONE at all who would side with him, only to let her go which would leave her to question why Apollo would try to accuse and harm her in the first place before considering other options. And through ALL this he claims he's the smart one, which I can't even be bothered to "love to hate" because it's written so poorly.

And really it all comes down to how everyone else behaves in relation to Apollo that makes it so stupid and unbelievable. Apollo, you're not smart just because all the characters around you are intentionally being written to be as stupid and non-confrontation as possible. If you can only write a smart villain by making everyone else stupid, you haven't written a smart villain, you've written a dumbass whose victory only happens due to contrived plot convenience. It's not even done well like in Glass Onion, it's just bad writing, full stop.

And who does he call to report this emergency? The satyr police? His son the doctor?

No.

The media. Literally just "hello, the media?? I need your best journalist here stat!"

I need you to understand, even if he were calling a tabloid magazine like The Weekly Nark, you don't just... call a journalist to report a murder. These are not the actions of someone who's trying to absolve himself of guilt, these are the actions of a complete dumbass trying to get news coverage of his trophy kill who would be better off just playing dumb instead of trying to play smart. Even Walter White wasn't this fucking stupid despite all the times he fell on his own sword, Apollo is literally just instigating suspicion towards himself for no reason at all. He's self-reporting so hard and worst of all, you can't even take any of this seriously because of how corny it is. There's no dramatic tension, no stakes, it's just a bunch of characters performing in a really bad stage play and reducing every conflict to "well I guess Zeus is just dead now because no one's bothering to make an effort to stop Apollo or ask questions lmao"

It's truly the epitome of "this plot wouldn't exist if characters would just talk to each other."

But finally, FINALLY we mention the thing this episode is named after, the transition point to Persephone.

Just like with the midseason finale episode, there's a lot to cover here, so I'm gonna get more into it in a part two post.

That said, you can see already this is the messiest, most contrived bullshit to ever wind up in LO. It's trying so hard to be smart and it just comes across as a bunch of toddlers in the world's worst stage play rendition of Clue. None of what was done here was in any way dramatic or tense, it's just a bunch of characters infodumping shit we already know, trying to set up new plot threads that don't make any sense, and allowing one another to get away with what they're doing because they don't bother to even try.

It's completely manufactured, contrived nonsense. It's not "smart", it's not "so dumb it's brilliant", it's just dumb.

[undermine-the-instinct]

𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝑳𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝑮𝒐𝒐𝒅 𝑯𝒆𝒓𝒆 (Then I Intend)

Sesshoumaru x Reader {PART 1 OF Part III} Next part

Read on A03...

Masterlist.../ Previous.../ Part 2...

Summary: The Lord Daiyokai often shuts you up in an inn, every few days of the month, for the demons that are attracted to your bloodscent. It is one of the few graces he allows. You would think its for your safety, and truly it is. Because not only do you seem to forget that he is a demon, but also a man.

Rumors of a bloodhungry demon arise, one that prowls the edges of this ghost town, devouring its residents under the shroud of moonless nights; Of which steadily approaches. Under the dark viel of a new moon, all desires will be brought to light.

Content warnings: Intimidation tactics-Sessh gets pretty scary and domineering with some people in this chapter- a bold line like this will mark where this happens if you wanna skip.

A/N: Tumblr wouldnt allow me to post this in one piece, so part 2 to this particular chapter will be llinked. Also, Its been a while since I wrote, so when I was writing the reader, most people refer to them with mostly 'they' and some 'she/her' pronouns.

Length: 11K

Listen, plato of ancient greece wrote that the souls we each have now are only halves. That in a frenzy of blood, zues severed us from each other, so we rely in the blind tugging of our hearts.

He wakes up hours later, in the dead of night, with the wind blowing and the cicadas screaming.

There is a storm brewing. He can smell it.

The twins, Toyotamahime sleeps to his right and Tamayorihime to his left, breath soft and even, faces peaceful and identical. He hears his father, the stilted, uneven but deep breaths, and when he rises, head ringing, he sees his youngest sister, Ohatsuhime beside him. There is one missing.

He struggles up, ignoring the pain of his missing fingers, his ear. He tries to be quiet, but he stumbles into a wall, biting his tongue at the cry of pain. No one wakes, so he goes on.

Kushinadahime sits at a table, with tea ready, and mochi. She doesn't acknowledge him with more than a wave over to the table. He stumbles over, and sits.

“I knew you would be up at this time. You're always tense this close to the new moon.”

“Yes, well, what if a demon comes inside?”

If she were any less put together she’d roll her eyes. “You sound like Father. That's only happened once in a case of extremely bad luck, Takashi-kun.”

“That's how mother died.” Chased through these halls until a child with a ronin’s sword tried to play hero. 

He wasn't alone then. But he wasn't able to do much– his mother still died. The sword leans against the door leading outside, touched by age and use.

“...Mother led him outside the house, she protected us.”

“She still died.”

“She drowned. And the demon is dead now, drowned with her–”

“Just replaced–”

“And he is not as bold as the former. We’re all alive, aren't we? Now, drink your tea.” Takashi glares, and she sighs.

“I know, Takashi-kun, I was there and I'm old enough to remember what happened. But if a demon comes, If this demon decides to finish the job, there isn't much you can do now with a missing ear and finger on each hand.”

Takashi scowls harsher as he takes the mochi. It's fresh, as it always is, of course. A rice farmer should have something to show the bounty of his harvest.

Rice cakes, mochi, sake, they had it all. And while others didn't bother to put in the work, Takashi-s sisters labored to remove the bran from the rice, so they often dined on white rice like elite nobles.

“You don't need to worry, these will grow back soon enough,” he teases through a mouthful. She breaths a laugh. This too is quiet.

“If only! Tell Masaki-san your secret, I'm sure she’d enjoy having her left foot again.”

“Really? I’m not so sure, if she’d have to go back to working in the fields then.” They both go quiet again, and she urges the cup of tea towards him.

“With the storm, we have to make sure to work quickly.”

“We’ll do that tomorrow.”

“You will rest. We have enough people, and you need to heal.”

“I heal fast. Remember how I got my sword?”

“It isn't a wandering ronin this time Takashi-kun, it’s a high ranking demon. The Lord of the Western Lands. You’re lucky to even still be alive.”

“’Lucky?’”

Her shoulders curve inward at the tone of his voice.

But she sighs, sets her cup down. “Brother don’t-”

“Kushinada–”

Her voice rises, suddenly. “You attacked his servant! You know how territorial demons can be, for Kami’s sake Takashi you know–”

“His servant’? His bitch more like. There's only one way they could have inspired such dutiul care.”

Her face reddens, and she hides her hands in her sleeves.

“You speak so uncouthly. Nevertheless, you still insulted his pride by proxy. Just…stay low for now, heal.”

He rises. “I'm going outside.”

“For what?!” She whisper-screams, planting her hands on the table. “It's dangerous!”

“Exactly why I'm taking patrol. Isn't it almost time for you and the twins?” Her eyes narrow.

“You should be making preparations to leave.”

“We already have, we’ll be leaving tomorrow. We’ll be gone for five days. And no, there's no need to escort us this time.”

He frowns. “The blood attracts demons. It's dangerous for you all.”

“So imagine how much more dangerous it would be with an injured person on our hands.”

“I can still protect you all.”

“And we can protect ourselves. The twins need to learn how to get there on their own. They know the way, they just never gone by themselves.”

“No. As long as I'm here you won't go yourselves.”

She frowns. “You coddle them.”

He grins. “In the way you hardly allow me to for you. Ohatsuhime is the worst one though-just wait until she joins you.” He inclines his head towards the door, where the rest of the family sleeps, but his sister is quick to snap. “Don't jinx her. She won't be joining us, you know that. Ohatsuhime, she's the youngest. She's too young.”

There is a chill in the air that he sees her shiver by.  “...She is sixteen. You know she won't be young forever. It's a miracle she’s lasted this long.”

“No. But we still have time to worry about that. Maybe, maybe it will be different for her.” She turns away, and shadows hide her face from view, expression indistinguishable in the lily-seed dark. 

“Maybe…maybe she’s just late, is all…I don't mind her being a child for very much longer.” 

Takashi sighs. His head throbs. “Sorry…Sister, I do not mean to speak on these…feminine issues. It's not my place as a man. And you're right- I don't know what I was thinking, of course she is too young. Just go back to sleep, and please do not wait for me. And no–” he cuts her off, “You can’t convince me to stay.”

She frowns, lowers herself back down. “You could at least drink your tea.”

“You probably drugged it for me to fall asleep.”

“I did not.”

“You did.”

“Not–”

“You did,” he grins. “You’ve been using your apprenticeship with the apothecary for dubious reasons. Dont think I don't know what kinds of orders you've been taking out behind her back,” he teases. ”The women in town aren't very quiet about where they get their products from. I suspect the population will rise by a few numbers in the next few years, if you catch what I’m-”  Kushinadahime snatches his teacup on the table and takes a long drink of it–she holds it out to him.

“There. You know I wouldn't do that to you Takashi-kun. So drink.”

Instead, he goes forward, and takes her half cup, drains it in a single swallow.

“Don't follow me.”

He takes the sword leaning against the door in his mangled hand, and pitches around the cabin. When he finds nothing, he goes further, extending the patrol. The night is humming and teeming and calm. He walks, stumbles in the direction of the bamboo grove.

It's small, something his mother insisted on before the twins were born. It's far from the paddies, to ensure that the pests there don't eat away here. His father planted the stalks, hand dug the little pond and placed a few koi fish there, back when there was still silver circulating in this backwater town and they had their share. Besides then, his father never stepped foot in here, at his mother’s behest. Her alone time. Sometimes…sometimes she would bring one or more of her children here. Never all of them at the same time. But still only sometimes.

{In the days after his mother’s death, still ragged and raw from grief, Takashi would wake, surrounded by his infant sisters, father gone. He would wait until the sun just rose, safe and secure in the pale glow, to rise and look for him. Kushinadahime would rise too, to start cooking breakfast, and check on the babes. Takashi would always find the man, kneeling just in front of the grove, staring within. It looked like he was waiting.

If he took his hand and led him within, could he muster up the courage to tell him the truth?

“Father..I’m…Mother didn't want–”

…He’s not a child anymore.}

He takes his position, deep within the stalks, and raises his sword.

It's the sword of a dead man, a ronin killed when he had stopped by this town, when Takashi was a child. The demon killed him. It's his now. It's hard to hold, his grip shakes from pain, his remaining ear ringing. He can barely stand straight; he has to stop himself from leaning too far on the side of his missing ear.

If only it could grow back. Like a piece of liver, like scraped skin, like scales, like blood. But even that takes time. Time he doesn't have. That he can ill afford to waste.

He needs to get out of here. He needs to learn and train and grow and earn enough money and prestige to get out of here, get his family out of here. Work. Rise the rankings. Become a samurai, or a daimyo even.

Being the son of a rice farmer could mean stability, but he wants more than that. His sisters should be bathing in milk with pearls in their hair. Samurai and Lords should be clamoring for their hands in marriage. He should be wed already to some lovely, demure, dutiful thing. It's not his place. It's not fair.

What did you ever do to earn your place, your privilege? Despite what he told his sister, it has to be more than that. You are very pretty, beautiful enough. But pretty charms aren't enough to earn you a spot besides one of the greatest demon Lords of the past few centuries. 

Was he going to train that child as well? Even though she was just a runty little git? Did he not prove more capable than those two? What did you two have that he doesn't?!

It's not fair.

It never has been. So he pushes through and continues his sets. When the blood of his hands makes the blade too slick to hold, he wraps his hands in cloth and carries on.

Stars are slowly fading in the lightening sky, and the sky is brightening. He’s not alone.

He doesn't stop but he notices. The wind still blows, but neither that nor the blood pounding in his ears is enough to deafen the crickets and birds and bugs, who’ve gone silent. Something is here.

He’s being watched.

He knows it.

But he pretends he doesn't. There are the slightest imprints of sounds, and Takashi stumbles in his pain, leaning against the stalk of a bamboo. 

Hush.

He tries to breathe. “You know, it's not very good to stare. A bad habit of yours?”

Silence.

The grove goes silent, and in one spine tingling, breath stopping moment, he feels his heart drop.

He turns to take stance–

He doesn't see what gets him. The world flashes white–sharp and keen, laced with pain. It bleeds red, and fades to black.

__________

You wake up with a fever.

Tendrils of a dream cling to you. A voice calling out. Dark tunnels and the smell of sulfur. Somehow, you know not to strike a fire for light.

There is something else in the darkness with you. It slumbers, and you cannot wake it. You must be q u i e t , heartbeat rabbit quick.

There is a man with scales, and pale hair looking for you. You must stay low.

When you wake, it is with a shock, a jolt, a sound caught in your throat. You are fevered- Hot, and raging. Sweat makes your skin clammy, and your body is sore in odd places.

You drag yourself back into consciousness; Sesshoumaru is not here with you.

You are not content to wait, but you do. You wait and you wait, but he does not return. So you get up.

The floors are cool under your feet, as you make your way to the kitchen. It's dark, and clean, Numachi-san must have finished cleaning hours ago.

She’s very hardworking. She does everything here-the cooking, the cleaning, attending to you all. She’s not elderly, but she is an older woman. It must be hard for her.

Maybe there could be something you can do for her, instead of just the odd chore or so. Maybe you could ask Sesshoumaru to let her kids stay here, since you know he'd already be opposed to that idea.

Water slips down your throat, cool. You want a snack but you don't want to go digging in someone else's pantry, that's just rude. So you turn and–

You nearly throw yourself back. Sesshoumaru, your Lord, stands. But his pupils are tiny and sharp, and his jaw is tight. His hand is half out, reaching.

You stay, staring off while your heart tries to settle.

“...”

“...”

“...My Lord, again, you–”

“Why are you not resting?”

“Um,” You look about, set your cup down. He's still stuck in that half motion, reaching for you. “I was thirsty. I woke up and you weren't there?”

“I had business.”

“...Uh huh.” You're not buying it, and the movement of his eyes is unnerving. They follow your every move, from the way you are fidgeting to your blinking. 

What the hell. He finishes his motion, takes you by the wrist, when–

“Ow!?” A shock, jars your wrist out of his hold. It stings, sharper and stronger than an odd static jolt.

Sesshoumaru looks at you, as if to ask, what was that?

“Just, some static I guess,” You shake out your wrist. There's no burn, or sparks, but the sting feels fresh. “It's…normal?” He looks at you again, taking your wrist more gingerly this time. There's another shock! But it's weaker, so you just flinch before he tugs you along, back through the dark corridors and to his room. 

You pass by the room you share [shared] with Rin, and see her curled up in extra blankets, only the dark of her hair visibly against the sheets. You feel a soft pang of guilt and stop in your tracks to hear her soft snoring. Sesshoumaru stops with you, but after a moment you nod at him, and he shuts the door, and leads you back to his room.

He tucks you in the futon, pressing the blanket under you, like a swaddle. When you try to protest, he presses the palm of his hand to your collarbone, against the mark he left there. You hear the unspoken words, and you listen.

He undresses, down to the simple outer robe, and, unlike before he doesn't sit beside you to watch you sleep, he lays his weight on top of you and your breath leaves in a huff at the sudden weight.

“Is everything really alright?” you squeak.

It's a moment before he speaks, and it's gruff. “You have a fever. Symptoms of preheat.”

“I do feel hot…”

“What else?”

“I don't know, the usual…? I feel sore, though. And hungry.”

“It's too late to eat. It's not good for digestion.”

“It's just a craving.”

“Anything in particular?”

“I want fruit.”

“I will get it for you then.”

“Aw, you’re willing to indulge me?” You tease.

In answer, he pulls his ear from your breast, enough so that he could bury his face in the juncture between shoulder and neck. He licks a slow stripe there, hot then cold.

You try not to shiver. Words come to mind and you hope he can hear them over the thrum of your blood:

“Watching the moon at dawn, solitary, mid-sky, I knew myself completely, no part left out.”

He lets loose a long breath; exhaustion, or release?

“Dawn and dusk Is the time I see My darling: Yet seeing her is as if I’ve seen her not...”

‘...How much I do love her.’ You hold him a little closer to that strange flutter in your chest.

“...You're much more romantic than I thought you'd be.”

“I have my manners. You are more dense–clueless, than you have any right to be.”

“What.” A low rumble in his throat reverberates through his chest, through you. Your belly warms.

“So you like me then, don't you?”

“...I more than like, you simpleton.”

“Call me names but I know that you like me~.” You reach to slip your fingers through his hair, scratching. He smells like clear water, silk, a rich scent that's distinctively him. He tenses, but his rumble takes on a deeper pitch, then goes softer and what a marvel that is? You melt deeper into the sheets, him, into you.

“I like this.”

“Silence.”

“And I think you do too. If you're being this obvious you must be down bad–and have been for quite some time, am I right?” You laugh. “I'm so glad you’ve finally succumbed to my charms.”

“Go to sleep, or I will leave.”

“You won't.”

“I’ve done it before.”

“You just said that that was business,” you pout. “Did you lie to me?”

“...I did not.”

“You did.”

“Not. I do not lie.”

“That is a lie in and of itself–” He sits up, looms over you. His brow is stern, but you know he isn't upset. The seam of his mouth is too soft for that.

His hair falls around you, a silk curtain. “Go. To sleep.”

“...On one condition.”

“None.”

“Just one! Just one, please? Pretty pretty please?” 

“...” You bat your lashes and he frowns deeper.

“...What is it?” Oh wow, you actually got him. You grin. “Come here. I want a kiss.” And for all his stoic cold demeanor, you see the gleam alight in his eyes before he swoops down swift, to press his mouth to yours.

He's gentler than you'd think he'd be, with all his strength and eagerness. You should remember that. You should remember to not test him too far, even though you want to. Even though you imagine him pressing you into the sheets, smoothing his hands past the barriers of cloth to find where you're aching, hot and slick. You want him to kiss you harder.

That's why he's the one who pulls back first, laying back on top of you.

“There. I fulfilled your request. Fulfill mine. Rest. You need it.”

The warmth on your belly spreads, a migration of butterfly wings, your heart and your throat. 

“...If you so insist, my Lord.” With his weight a comfort, it isn't long before you fall back into a dark slumber, with no dreams.

__________

He has to keep swallowing back the drool that pools in his mouth.

Like this, buried in softness, your scent coats him, like he’s cavity deep in a cadaver; it sticks to his cheeks, smears across his mouth and chin and fingers and clogs his nose. A spark, short and sharp, prickles his skin, but it's harmless. He breathes through his mouth, tasting honey in the back of his throat, practically panting. He could get drunk on your scent, gods above and below be damned.

Damn you. Damn you and your eyes and hands every temptation and vice he can afford to indulge. A single glance from you, like looking through warbled glass, reflects every desire for you he’s ever had.

He sighs, sinking deeper in your warmth; He blinks back the slow haze your preheat brings. Hells, he feels like a glutton. It will only get worse when you're in proper heat.

It never lasts. A day or so almost. You're dizzy those days, scatterbrained. Doe-eyed. Atleast, that's what he can tell from the few moments he caught you in heat- he’s never been this close before. He  feels…Anticipatory. Eager. Possessive.

Another prick of static crawls over his skin with a hitch of your breath, and a noise, deep in his throat, comes out low and even as he buried his face in your belly.

Clothes, robes, sheets- He can smell you through them. Honey, him, the syrupy dampness left to cool between your thighs.  A part of him is angered at the thought-but there will be time to satisfy the both of you.

Sesshoumaru is not one to curb his desires–direct them, temper them,  indulge when demonic fancy tends. Discipline is a practice he’s only recently mastered. And only nearly. 

When It comes to you, it feels less like a discipline and more like a surveying, stalking. His desire has not been hinged, but cultivated. He will reap what he has sowed. 

It's only natural. You are his, and you are in need–should he not provide? 

The things you are not aware you need, protection from the dangers that have yet to present themselves. 

Sesshoumaru’s ire, his wrath, is the tension of a lightning strike, building, building–then a strike too swift to fathom, smoke and soot and ozone in the air.

So, you rest, lovely thing you are, and he rises, slips from your arms. He stalks out the room.

__________

Ayumi has not met many demons.

Ayumi has not met many demons, but the ones she has met she has spent much time with, so she would like to say that she is rather sensitive to certain…circumstances, or incidents, one could say. Encounters. Moments. Situations. 

She feels the ripple of chills down her spine, the added, silent presence in her room, and struggles to keep her breathing even and under control.

He already knows she is awake, her heartbeat probably gave it away. So she sits up, and goes to sit on her knees. She lowers herself in a perfect bow, but pushes up slightly, so that she could lift her eyes, her head still lowered.

Lord Sesshoumaru is a rather beautiful demon, but there appears nothing beautiful now. His eyes are pin pricked golden marbles, elongated fangs and claws, and a deep violet slashes something vicious across his face. He moves his jaw, side to side, human features ill fitted for the demon pressing outwards.

“...” She takes a moment to ensure her voice won't falter. “My…My lord, what might I do for you, at this late hour?” 

A second of lightning bolt terror–he is a man after all. She thought that the two of you were…but apparently not? But the anger on his face doesn't speak to the kind of violence one might expect.

He, too, takes a minute to speak. It is dark and rumbling when he does. “Your sons…. Twins. Hanyo’s?“ Her heart skips–sinks, a rock on water.

He leans down. “You must have been married to the previous demon of this town.”

‘Previous demon’…So he knows this one is not the one from before? Have they met?

“...The previous demon, yes–no. No, we were not…married. I had my sons out of wedlock.” He tilts his head, a twitch to his ear.

He moves forth, quickly, and before she could contemplate or process or think of what she is to do, he drags her up by the loose collar of her kimono. She holds his wrist, flesh like steel, to keep herself upright and not dangling, he maneuvers her in such a way that he has view to the pale skin beneath her collar. The patches she put there.

“You are hiding your presentation.”

“After my husband's passing, for…safety-!” He lifts her high–lets her go and catches her by the throat, to hold her better. She chokes, toes dangling above her futon.

“Of course, even at your age, even with children…I imagine you would still attract.”

He’s silent for a moment, and for a moment, he darkens. Ayumi thinks he is going to kill her, just because. He is going to snap her neck, just because. Demons have done more for less. Her lover has done more, for less. But he just makes an annoyed sound, drops her unceremoniously.

“Yes, I know of your presentation,” he says. “But what of your sons? The ones that are to be coming here, here. An Alpha and a beta, a fact I was not made aware of?” She doesn't dare lift her head to match his eyes, she has some self preservation. “Tell me about that, would you?”

“I…I had informed your vassal of their arrival and I had just assumed-”

“‘Assumed?’ That, what? I would allow it? Did you tell them the full truth? Or omit some details? Or, did you hold the hope perhaps that one of your sons could come to claim a bride?” And here his lip curls in a snarl, a sneer, teeth white and sharp like little knives.

”Which one? My vassal or the child?” 

“No!” She shakes her head, loose hair spilling down her shoulders.

“My sons would not…I wouldn't, they would never…I…”

“Do not waste my patience, woman. I have little to give.” Of course, of course. Her breath is shallow and quick, Ayumi has the sense to know that she is slowly panicking. The coldness of his words, the murderous drag of his eyes could not be mistaken. 

This isn't a demon to lash out in anger, no. This one needs reason, and he is calculated. That means his cruelty is calculated too.

But so too, should his mercy.

Ayumi prostrates herself. “My sons…One an Alpha, the other beta. The oldest was to be his father’s heir but he is…against the idea.

“My sons will be coming to town today, or tomorrow, but they will not be here, I swear! They hardly ever stay at the inn-”

“Where?”

“...The town, the other residents usually offer, so I do not know whose home they would–”

“Where.”

“...Taiga-san, the rice farmer, intends to house them for this visit.” And there, the death knell begins to toll. “They are on the other end of town.”

“The same rice paddies you sent my vassal to?” She tries not to flinch, but she does.

“The same house with that insolent boy… You saw what happened to him.”

“My sons will not be coming here. I’ll ensure it. And, anyways my sons… are much better mannered.”  A hint of pride, petty and spiteful. She slides her hands out from her forehead, arms laid flat and hands open, palm up.

“They will know to honor and defer to you as soon as they sense your presence in the village. They are smart boys. If you call for them they will come. If you do not wish to see them, they will not make themselves known to you.” 

“And if I want their heads?”

“...Then I will bargain for their lives.”

Again, he scoffs. But as he crouches down, the wood doesn't creak. “And what do you have to offer me?”

“...Whatever it is you can take.” She hesitates, but she reaches and pulls off the bandages on her neck. She can only smell the sharp tincture of herbal ointment. She can't smell it, her scent, but she can imagine he can.

Winter wind, salt, chestnut. A refreshing scent, her lover once told her.

All she could smell in the aftermath was the blood in the air. The old, darkened spark is just another ugly reminder.

“It was my negligence and ineptitude that I failed to inform you. I should have told you immediately,” she clasps her hands. “I am sorry my Lord, I am so sorry. Please forgive me-”

“Do you think I want you?” She doesn't respond, but he goes on. “Because you are an omega? Do you think that all demons are so tasteless?” 

Again, she doesn't respond, but he reaches out and grabs her face, lifts it so that she is looking at him. “Answer me.”

“No, no, you do not, but you could. No, you are not uncouth.”

“So because I could, you then make me the offer? Why? Do you think I will kill you? Your sons? They must take after you,” He says, shaking her face, and Ayumi almost bursts into tears, ripping her eyes away. Yes, yes, I do think so! You make it so obvious you will. You're all the same.

“I told you to look at me,” she whimpers, but does as he says.

When she looks, his head is tilted at an arrogant angle, and he scowls at her tears. “I will not sully my blade with your blood. I have not fallen so far as to spill omega blood.” He lets her go, but before she could sob in relief, he leans in, smooth and agile like the predator he is, so that his eyes are level with hers, his breath cold like a winter sea breeze.

“But you will give me what I desire. Speak.”

Something in her head goes silent, and while she still shivers, her voice comes out calm. Her vision sharpens, almost. She recognizes this-if she gets too caught up in the feeling, she’ll faint. She speaks.

“My father had driven me out after I had given birth, because I had…coupled with a demon. He then took me-us, here,” the words spill. “The owners of this inn were old, and he killed them, as well as the Daimyo and his samurai who stayed here. Then we came here.” The upper rooms have remained quiet and full of dust for over a decade, now. Ever since her sons left and they stopped playing with all the ghosts up there. Sometimes, she would swear she can hear noise up there. She’d go to check, but more often than not, there were only the ghosts of the past. 

“Why were they here?”

“F-For taxes. They were…leveraging taxes.”

“...And he killed them.”

She wasn't there for the slaughter. A small mercy, perhaps. “People were starving then, so they were thankful, and started leaving offerings in the forest. My lover had a human disguise, but people still assumed…so they treated us well. The people of this town believe that my sons took over the role of their father, when he passed.”

“How did they know your ‘husband’ had passed? He fought another demon and lost, devoured. Even if there was a body or remains, he would have reverted to his demonic form when he died, so you couldn't have held a funeral,” his voice, mocking.

Ayumi blinks, slow. Shingetsu must have told him. “...Yes, there was a great fire that broke out in the midst of a storm, years ago. During it, people saw–him fighting the other demon.”

“A white naga?” So they did meet.

“...No one died, for weeks after. Vagabonds and gangs started pilfering through here, again. We knew there was another demon when people started going missing again. Or we found remains.”

“Then?”

“Life went on. My husband had killed anyone who came for the rumors, the glory of killing a prominent demon. When they dwindled, he ate the residents. 

“But this new demon took mostly the wandering ronin, or whoever came through. They took people, but not as often as my husband did. Never those too young either. People here called it a kindness,” And the vitriol that comes out with the word shocks her. She covers her mouth as he speaks.

“So your husband killed whomever, and whenever, and then, a demon, who is not one of your sons, came and killed him to take his place. And this demon kills more sparingly, so the people here pool their pitiful offerings as thanks.”

And maybe it's the blood pounding in her ears, or the way his hair almost reflects the moonlight, familiar, but she opens her mouth and says, “No. No, I killed my husband.”

He raises an eyebrow, and draws back into her space. Panic rises in her throat again, a trapped bird. “Oh? You killed him?” 

“I…had poisoned him, before he fought the demon.”

“How? Why. Did you know this new demon would fight your husband?”

“I had a feeling…he was going to leave me. Us.” Her nails dig into her palm to quell the sudden heat in her eyes. “I didn't know the demon would attack. But I knew he would die that night.”

And he laughs, at her, just once, a breath, and that felt more derogatory than anything he had done so far in this night. Her face burns with unshed tears and shame, anger. She swallows it all, a burning in her belly.

“You killed your lover. “

“Yes.”

“Is that why your sons have left you? Their scents have long faded from the wood of this place, you know. It better stay that way. “ She nods, frantically.

“O-of course-”

“I won't kill you, you lucky thing. The same courtesy does not apply to your children. Your negligence in informing me of them has ensured this. Perhaps if you had been forthright, I could have lent some leniency…The chance is lost now.” He lets her go and rises, and Ayumi realizes she holds no breath.

“...I should rid myself of you, set your building ablaze. But we can ill afford to leave. There will be a storm soon.”

“Then why don't you leave now to beat it, and save us both some misery.” She blinks, then realizes the fear has numbed over her skin like rain in winter. She is disconnected from her body and her tongue is loose.

She moves, to try and salvage her life. “You, you obviously want to leave, and, well, well the darkness of the new moon will last two nights. Why not leave now while you still have the slightest light?”

“...They are all resting. Why should I disturb it and give myself unnecessary grief?”

Does he care…? No, no, he's a demon, why would he?

“...Your vassal does not have a mating mark.” She’s noticed the unmarked swathe of your flesh, and envied you horribly for it. At the same time, she pitied you—and the child. Rin.

She looks neither like yourself or the Lord, and Ayumi could guess her situation no better than she could yours. She looked happy–but most children are easily pleased. She is a child, but she would grow to be a woman, eventually. She dreads who she’ll grow in to be under the tutelage of you both. Someone should save her.

“I’ve noticed their symptoms, and their lack of notice. Is this their first fever?”

He pauses. “This will pass, as it always has before.”

So it was not. He did not answer her observation on your lack of notice….so perhaps you did not know. If you did…would you stay? Did you even have a choice?

Ayumi remembers those hazy days of fever. She did not enjoy the symptoms, rather, the alleviation of them, even if her skin crawled throughout. 

Before she could follow that stream of thought the demon turns on his heel, his long hair moving with him.

“Continue to serve as you have. We will leave once the worst of this storm is over, and perhaps you and your sons could remain with your lives.” His eyes flash. “Heed my words. I will not repeat them.”

Ayumi bows, head to the floor. When she rises, he’s gone.

Ayumi takes a moment–to breathe. She looks around the still little room, and clutches her loose collar close to her throat.

She breathes–Once, twice, thrice. Then she weeps.

__________

You dream of a memory.

It was before Rin joined. You’d settled deep into your situation, having spent the past few months already with your new companions, and a few more in this era in whole. It wasn't as hard as you thought it would be. At least you can semi make a fire now.

A fire that was now slowly dying. The embers crawled across the logs like fire ants, but you were mesmerized by what lay above. The sky, that is.

You never had seen anything quite this beautiful before. You dont think you’ll ever find anything better. You don’t gape, open mouthed anymore, but your eyes are wide and ravenous, drinking it all in. Your mouth curls in a smile.

“Go to sleep.” You jolt, but it's just the Lord. His arms are crossed and his eyes closed, he speaks low.

“Enough stargazing. Rest.”

“But it’s all so lovely.”

“We leave at dawn. I will not hear your complaints.” You laugh under your breath.

“Don’t worry, I won't!”

“Lies.” You laugh again, louder, and Jaken snorts in his sleep. A-un peels open an eye to look at you, before he too returns to rest.

It's quiet for a few moments before he speaks again.

“They are the same stars as always. They will not disappear if you stop looking.”

Mirth colors your voice. “I know that.”

“Then why stare in such awe?”

“Because I’m in love.” The way he goes silent and still so suddenly doesn't sit right with you. But you refuse to let the moment fall into something more awkward.

You stretch a hand out. “I just love the stars. Before I landed here I've never seen a sky like this. Remember that electricity thing I told you about? There's too much of that light pollution to really see the sky. At most, in the city you can see a scattered handful.”

“Typical of humans, to spread their dross even to the skies.” You frown.

“I think it's a shame too that not many people see it as a problem. There was a blackout in…San Francisco? Or Los Angeles? Anyways, there was an electricity blackout and so many people called the authorities to report those ‘strange lights in the sky’. It’s so sad that there are people who don't even know what stars are.”

A scoff. “Humans are simpler and better served when you are dealing with plagues and agriculture and demons. Convenience has made you all indolent.”

“‘Indolent?’”

“Complacent. Lazy.”

“I wasn't asking for a definition,” you frown. And then you pout. “...And I am not lazy.”

“You are. You have none of the skills needed to survive. None of the skills a human your age should have.”

You huff and sit yourself up. “And that's not laziness if it wasn't a necessity to know back when. Besides, I learned quick enough, didn't I? I don't expect anyone to pick up after my slack.”

“What person does not need to know how to search for water, or gather firewood, or to make a fire? Who does not know how to stitch cloth or tell time by sun, to identify poisonous plants?”

“All that is taken care of. We focus on other things, Like curing diseases, or exploring the mysteries and laws of the planet, even other planets. More people can afford an education, and industrial production has only boosted!”

“Produce what? Production for the sake of what? Simply because? That sounds great for your feudal Lords.”

“We dont have Lords-I mean, most of us dont–”

“So you produce for a lord that doesnt make any remedies or facilities available to you.”

You pause. Wher eis this going. “Look at you advocating for the lowly people.”

“I’m not,” he scoffs. “But the symptoms put in place work for a reason. Does your endless labor benefit your life in any meaningful way, or is it just for the sake of capital? Can you eat it what you produce, or use it in any real capacity, or do you endlessly produce for the sake of a possibility of consumption?”

…God damn. You dont need a reality check like this. “Okay mister, I know consumerism is no joke–” 

“No, it's not, its a preference, not a commodity. You are disconnected from the fruits of your labour. Even the poorest rice farmer is better rewarded than you are in your era. Has the human lifespan been extended just for you all to live in pointless work, pointless excess and vice? That sounds simply like gluttony.”

Your fingers dig into your sleeve. The tone of his voice is reprimanding, and cold. This feels like it's devolving into an argument, and you don’t like that.

“Well, I don't think you should judge a multitude, the culmination of generations, or even just one era by a singular person. One you don’t know all that much about.”

“...I know far more about you than I care for.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“I know that you are in love.” And you go quiet. “You’re a glutton for the privileges you once held. You act like a sheltered noble, as if the world is in your hands. You get drowsy and antsy before a storm breaks. Your first instinct is to debate and argue, as if you are a scholar-”

“I am–”

“--And you are seldom quiet, and lack proper mannerisms. It is appalling.”

“...Oh, well, please pardon me my esteemed Lord–”

“I do not. Also, you are weak and you have no fear.”

“Fear from what?”  

Finally, he opens his eyes, and you hope he’s far enough away to miss the skip of your heart. They are impassive, and alight, twin lanterns glinting off the top glaciers of a frosty mountain. 

Gods, you’re whipped.

{...behold, you are beautiful; your eyes are doves.}

“...” He stares at you, and you catch up to what you said.

“I mean–! You’re strong enough to deal with any demons we come across, and humans of course don't stand a chance. So… yeah, what do I have to fear?” You raise your hands and let them fall back to your sides, as you fall back to the grass. 

It’s as simple as that. You have protection, you are safe here. What have you to fear?

He doesn't have a response for you, and you think he is in agreement. Or at least tired of talking. Fine either way. 

You hum, and open your eyes to the stars again, only to flinch horribly when the Lord stands above you, outlined by starlight.

You didn't even hear him move. “And you have nothing to fear from me?”

He can probably hear the thumping of your blood, does he mistake that for fear? His eyes are just too…direct. His gaze was always sharp, but it's pointed now, like a knife tracing your throat.

You half sit up, leaning on your elbows, not sure to rise or remain. It brings you closer. “...No.”

“No?”

“As long as I don't do anything to earn your ire, right? Or your displeasure, then I’m fine.

“And…Have I displeased you, my Lord?”

You curse yourself as you stumble over his title, but he crept up on you so suddenly and you’re startled.

He leans in. You’re enthralled.

Hair slips down, like a curtain closing in on either side of you, and you’re captured by golden eyes, like the yellow crater pocketed-moon, like gold, like honey. You don't even notice you’ve sat up fully, until you notice you’re counting each individual lash of his eyes.

He speaks. “No.”

“No?” Fuck, your voice cracks.

He reaches, and your hair comes between his fingers. He has to cradle your head to do it, and it's like he’s holding you up for his purview, keeping you in place. If you let your weight fall, would he hold you up?

“....No. Unfortunately for you, I am not displeased.” 

“Hm? I-I don’t–” you stutter as his hand moves over your eyes. You have to wonder if he can feel the brush of your lashes with each blink, how lightly his hand rests. 

Now you can only hear his voice. “You will see the stars for years hereafter. Now, rest.”

__________

Jaken left right before dawn for the things his Lord needs him to get. He has been foraging from first light to the bright light of noon.

Of course, his Lord didn't give him an exact, precise list, or say, anything, really, but Jaken is also a demon, and he understands that his Lord can't just come out and say the things that you need, the plants he needs to forage, for whatever tinctures, teas, ointments. It's not like you’d know, or even ask, stubborn, pigheaded fool.

You're only human, so you do not understand the significance of what this all means. You will, eventually.

The day is gray as storm clouds gorge themselves with rainwater, soon to burst. This delays their plans–they’ll have to stay within this place for a day or two more, at least until the rains let up enough, for A-un to be able to fly without you two being at risk of a lightning bolt. 

But as of right now, rain hasn't yet broken, though the top soil is only slightly damp as he digs for roots. He has to hurry, before these too are weighed down by wet and storm.

…Imagine his lord, with his elegant, noble hand, digging through dirt for tangled roots? Ha!

But, he's done it before, hasn’t he?

{You and the child sleep into the night, set to rise early next morning. The area is wrought with demons, but you wouldn't know if not for the dying screams here and there-Your Lord slays all who dare to come too close to the dizzying trail you leave behind, though he himself stays out of sight.

At night, he returns, to check the state of you both, to brew teas from the plants he foraged himself. Jaken never speaks-too stunned by the display, its implications. You do not know how terrifying you are, to influence the Lord as such.

You don't know how damned you are, little human.}

“Where in the hells…” The foliage is so overgrown and tangled, and Jaken has to claw his way deeper into the forest to get the things needed. Everything is too strangled and dead closer to the village.

He has his staff with him. And with all the time spent under his lord, his scent signature is on him as well. The demon wouldn't dare to touch him, unless he wishes to die. Honestly, Jaken has no issue with drowning this town or setting the forest ablaze if it saves his life.

There's a scent that catches his nose. Faint, but so startingly familiar that it stops him in his tracks.

The rice boy, with his spiced musk. The scent of his blood.

“So, the naga demon dragged him out here then, hm? Pretty far from the paddies.” Jaken shakes his head, rearranging his basket like an old woman.

“...Did he taste well? Or was he as distasteful as his demeanor?”

There's no response. He doesn't know if it's because the demon is not here, or whether he smells the lord's signature and refuses to come out. Either way, it's safe.

He should be safe.

Under no impression is he that he is alone. The tracks are smooth and unbroken, fresh, and typical of reptilian demons. He knows he is a naga demon, in the few words his Lord shared with him before returning to his chambers. To you.

{“The demon of this town is a naga, white scales,” he pauses to think, remember. “Plain dark hair, brown reptilian eyes.”

“Is he a threat, my lord-” His nails sharpen and Jaken swallows his words.

“If he was, I would have killed him where he wriggled, the worm.” He growls, then sighs, pushing his hair away from his face. 

He sighs again, harsh and quick, and his fangs are elongated, knife sharp and milk white. Shivers ripple across Jaken’s skin.

He understands his Lord could be–is, agitated. You can always put him in that sort of mood, but your frequent heats, over and over and over and over for months on end would put any demon on the ropes. Surely, being so close to you now is having its toll.

Something will have to break–hunger or carnal. Jaken wonders if he’ll come back to a corpse, and he finds himself hoping that, despite…well, you’ll probably be alright. 

“We stay until the worst of the storm abates. They should be over the worst of it then; I will acquire some remedies when day breaks to ease them. There is an apothecary here, so I believe.”}

Jaken knows his Lord would only settle for the convenience of an apothecary, instead of the surety of his own skills and hands in such an inconvenient, meddlesome time. So, Jaken has taken the job, even if he doesn't really like you, even if he is a little late, and, a little lost.

He swats his staff around, trying to clear his way in the general direction of the town. If anything, he just needs to avoid where the ground slopes downwards. Although, those seem to be plenty in this near-untouched forest.

Like now. His foot trips on empty air, a sudden decline, and he stabs the staff into the ground to try and right himself as he falls.

“Why are there so many slopes!?” He screams as he slides. He tumbles down, and he scrambles with all his little might.

“It's a mountain range?! Why does it lead so far down-!” 

It's not uncommon for a terrain like this to be bumpy with hills and hidden crags. But the slope smooths further he goes. 

When he finally gets his footing, he stands to look past the plants that grow past his height, to see that the slope is far deeper than he thought, almost straight down. As he follows it with his eyes, Jaken sees why.

The opening of a mine, half boarded, stands before him. Its outside is black with ash and soot, blackened hand prints and claw marks. He smells the demon, and he smells more blood of the boy. The smell of sulfur, wafting from deep underground.

‘If it is sulfur I cannot light any fires here,’ he thinks. "It will make an explosion and I’ll die as well.”

Furthermore, just to the side of the opening lies a shrine-altar, of sorts.

Jaken isn't getting close to that thing just to get snatched inside. It's an abandoned mine, yet the wind that comes from it is warm, as if heated by body and breath. The altar has offerings on it, half burned incense, silver utensils, and, strangely, a bowl of rice with chopsticks placed vertically within the bowl.

The rice offering wasn't strange. What was strange was it was expensive white rice, and that there was still steam wafting from the bowl.

It's time to go.

This was definitely the demon's lair, an abandoned mine leading underground. Perhaps the offering was made by a foolish resident, praying for all the people who left handprints as they were dragged inside to their doom as they surely were.

He couldn't hear any screams from inside but he wasn't going to be next. Jaken squints more to see the hands that blacken the wood of the mine’s entrance, both big and small. A plethora of victims.

A rustle has him whirl around, staff at the ready. But he sees nothing, hears nothing. He doesn't drop his guard. Instead, he trudges slowly back onto high ground, looking around for the noise. He did not imagine it.

“Who is there? Come, now, if you value your life.” Nothing, except the wind. 

“Do you want me to come find you? Or, are you trying to lure me away from your lair?” 

If he uses fire, he risks an explosion with the sulfur in the air. Water is the safer bet, but if he ends up overdoing it, he might draw out whatever’s in the boarded up mine, or wash himself away. He doesn't exactly have the high ground to keep high and dry.

A voice, suddenly, high but male: “Not at all- You're very welcome.”

He doesnt recognize it. Neither does he doesn't get the chance to look. Hands come out from the grasses, grasping his clothes, his hands, covering his mouth–he is dragged into the mine with nary a sound.

__________

You sleep.

Not peacefully. You toss and turn and curl and uncurl. You go between a deep sleep into a half doze, and Sesshoumaru stays there through it all. It's a normal symptom of preheat behavior. You’ll either be completely asleep or awake for the day or two of your actual heat.

He keeps a pot of ginger tea at the ready for when you awake. It should help.

The child, Rin, is in the room as well, looking over you occasionally with the tug in her brow. He wants to keep her in sight, even though he knows she is capable with the tanto up her sleeve. Capable and willing.

When she glances at you in that worrying way for the nth time, Sesshoumaru beckons her over.

She shuffles on her knees till she is by his side.

“They are not sick.”

“...I know. It happens.”

“So you understand what this is?”

“Cycle. I’ll…get them. Too.”

“I am sure that they have explained to you their terms for their biological functions. But do you understand what cycle I mean?” She looks at him confusedly, and Sesshoumaru sighs. 

If only you were a bit more informed, and not so damn dense, you could’ve been the one having this conversation with the child. She’s practically your child already, with the way you dote on her.

[But she is his too, isn't he? He didn't bring her back to life because she wasn't.]

“Demons have higher senses, so we are more aware of our biology than humans are. There are the dynamics, and everyone fits into one of them. Alpha, beta, omega.” He looks the tiny girl in her eyes, darker than lily-seeds. “You and they–are omega.”

“...?” When she tilts her head he continues. “Alphas are dominant, protective and proactive. Often they are the heads of households, and providers. Betas are more mild, and depending on the individual, fall more towards either side of the spectrum. They typically have softer senses and milder temperaments. Most humans are beta.”

“And…omega?”

“...Sweeter smelling, with softer dispositions. By that I mean they are not as aggressive or forward as Alphas, though, that does not mean they are weak, or invalid. Within demon societies they just tend to be raised that way, so culture shapes perceptions. They are desired for their biology, their sweet scents attract.” Her eyes widen with understanding and he nods.

“That is why demons follow the two of you so often. They are attracted to the blood, yes, there is no doubt of that, but also the scents.”

“Is that why you leave? To not eat…”

“No. If I wanted to eat them I would have done so long before we took you in.” We, we, we. 

You shuffle and groan in your sleep, and her eyes flit towards you.

“Then why do you…”

“To kill the demons that are attracted to the scent of it all. As well as…” she turns to him, and Sesshoumaru wonders if she is too young, perhaps, for him to be as honest as he wants to be. Whether or not you are listening in your dreams.

“Omegas are also desired for mating. Procreation.”

“Pro…”

“To have children.’ her mouth makes an ‘oh’ shape.

“That is why Alphas could be triggered into ruts, when synced with their omega’s heats, which is another kind of cycle, the one they are in right now.”

“...And you are…”

She doesn't say anything else, but he knows the way her mind races, her voice caught behind. So he adds, “...An alpha. But I do not intend to father any bastards. Just because these are our biological functions does not mean we need to adhere to them.” Despite how difficult it feels to not breathe in your scent like a man risen from the depths. His nails dig into his palm and break skin, just to heal the next moment.

“So they are yours then? Your…omega?” How simple she makes it sound, as if that's all there is to this. But you are. He nods.

“So are you going to marry them then?” That question though, for whatever reason, is what jolts him.

…Why hasn't he ever thought of marriage with you before? He has only thought about having you, enjoying you and weathering your antics and quirks. And he’s always had little doubt of your reciprocation, only the quickness of it.

Blackened teeth do not suit you. He prefers the gleam of your smile under sunlight. Shorter sleeves however, would suit you well.

Rin, with her blatant, [and frankly rude] dead straight gaze, hums.

“It’s, okay. I always knew you liked them.”

“Since when?” It comes out more snide than he intended, but she just shrugs.

“The way you look. At each other.” 

That’s it? He wonders, as Rin moves to you. She pulls off his outer chinese robe that's already half off you. She twitches as he does so, and Sesshoumaru’s ears can pick up the soft pop of static that sparks between her hands and the cloth. Rin stands and lifts it, of course, it's much taller than her and pools on the floor. 

If it was anyone else they would have lost their hands. But he watches as she fumbles with the fabric, catching hint a beat too late as she turns the robe inside out, and covers you once more. You flinch before you settle back into comfort.

“There. Better.”  She grins, dusts her hands like she worked oh so hard, a quirk she's picked up from you.

“Rin.” She hums again in answer, looks at him.

And Sesshoumaru, he has to wonder if she understands the significance of what she did. She is a child yes, but a child under the care of demons and a Prophet. A child who's died once already.

“You will never have to worry about your future. Your physiology will have no bearing on what path you decide to take in your life.”

She pauses, and it seems like she wants to say something before she shakes her head, and smiles. She nods, and with a bounce in her step, she skips out the room.

You slumber on.

__________

The rice daughters are quite infamous within this town. And as the eldest of them, Kushinadahime is the least famous of them all.

‘What a strong, dutiful daughter. How hardworking.”

“As she should be. She takes after her mother.”

“No, the twins do moreso. They're so lovely in their performances.”

“Do you think Taiga-san will arrange marriages to get them out of town soon? You know, Kiyohime was married quite young. They’re above the age she was.”

“To whom will they marry? They have to marry outside the town, they’re beautiful enough.”

“Well, to the other twins of course. They're a bit late, aren't they?”

“Do you think Kushinadahime will marry one first? Or will the twins be paired with one another?

“She should provide an example and marry first. Or maybe she'll make sure they're safe first? Especially Ohatsuhime-chan.”

Especially Ohatsuhime, the youngest of them, and the loveliest. The most famous, the most pitied. 

When each daughter was born it was a day of fear. Because common tales will tell that a rice farmer blessed with daughters will have a bountiful harvest, but everyone knows demons love daughters. And they were all beautiful, but Ohatsuhime was beautiful from birth. Some damned, others condemned. Takashi always rejected that nonsense though. He got that from mother.

That's why each one of their names has a ‘Hime’, princess. Why mother washed their hair with white rice water and bathed them in water from the mountain streams. Quite presumptuous of her, and they've carried the tradition even to this day, sneers and looks of envy following after them all their lives.

After mother drowned, those words and looks hung over their heads from thereafter. Takashi was only six years of age, and she was four. The twins were barely over their first year, and Ohatsuhime was just born.

The ominous presence over them faded, as the years passed but now, with the death of the eldest son…

‘Poor Taiga-son, his only son…first his wife and then his son? How cruel. How unfair.”

“Then why didn’t they move like they were first told to? Even before Kiyohime-san…”

“Well, what are they to do now? Kushinadahime must step up now and secure marriages for herself and her sisters. Who else can support them and her father now?’

Yes, as though she has not been the primary caregiver of her family since mother passed and she learned how to work the stove.

[The only thing better than a daughter is an eldest son]. 

Takashi worked hard in the fields, and he could bargain for other supplies from other families if they needed. If a demon slithered into their home, he would take that discarded ronin sword and defend them. 

But beyond that, he never expected to do anything more demanding than some repair at home. As younger children, he almost burned the house down when Tamayorihime asked him to help with dinner once, as she was sick and their father was, frankly, helpless. The twins were too young and Ohatsuhime was an infant.

That's how she tells the twins apart now, by the burn on Tamayorihime’s wrist. She never let him near the stove again.

She made sure their father was cleaned and dressed and fed and took his medication. She and her sisters made the teas and meals, rice cakes, and the mochi and wine and the sake, with the abundance of rice they always had. They cleaned. They worked the fields. Kushinadahime worked with the apothecary, even if the older women told her not to follow her path lest she be single and die childless. The twins loved to dance. Ohatsuhime was still young and wanting to do everything.

Takashi offered protection, and less work among the paddies. He went past the mountain pass every few months to sell and procure things for them. An extra body of warmth in the winter. A voice to talk to in the night. Brother. With father as he was, Patriarch. All he wanted was the world. 

And now, he’s probably dead or being devoured and life has to go on anyways like he never existed, isn't that right? 

Why now? Why so close to the New moon? She knew she should have forced him back to bed; Even strong as he was, Kushinadahime was strong too, she had to be. And he was weak from pain, she could have forced him.

It's almost that time of month, when she and her sisters cycle syncs. Blood, of any kind, attracts. It's why they always left, huddled somewhere secluded and safe to wait the bleedings out. Most women of the town were older, and weaker, so they oft didn't need to hide, not like them. Not like Numchi-san, or the apothecary, in her golden days. Or, you.

The irony does not miss her. She has only seen an image of you, dizzy from a fall, the image of a perfect damsel that her brother just could not help but to help, a boost to his ego. You and Numachi-san are very similar in this regard. 

Who is going to safeguard them now? They are not some pampered vassal, or bride, hiding away in lavish inns with a mighty demon's protection, fostering and mothering children of his.

…She has to go tell her. She and her sisters still need to go. The twins already left much earlier and she must join them. Just until the bleedings stop. Until it's safe to come back. Safe for Ohatsuhime, who has not gotten her blessings despite her age, and safe for her withering, grieving father. For now.

Numachi-san’s twins would not come here now. They wouldn't dare.

Her twins, Toyotamahime and Tamayorihime, were silent as a tomb, despite their tears when she sent them off.

“The usual time, just a few days. You know we can't stay here right now, not…not with what happened. I’ll tell  father.”

“What about Ohatsuhime?”

“We can't send her to Numachi-san. Not with that demon there.”

“Then I'll send them both to the apothecary. I’ll force father if I have to. Just focus on getting there safely, okay?” With an embrace, she sent them on their way.

She’ll join them, after she makes sure that her sister and father will be taken care of. She’ll seclude herself with her sisters, until it's safer to be around them. 

She jumps as Ohatsuhime suddenly taps her shoulder. She whirls to meet her wide, dark eyes.

“-hime, it's very hot today. Everyone is tired even though it's not noon yet.”

“...Alright, we can stop for a break then and–”

“Kushinadahime,” They always use their full names, no honorifics with one another. “There's. Something else. Tamayorihime and Toyotamahime already left, right?” Something in her tone makes her pause, but Kushinadahime was speaking and cutting her off is just rude so just let her finish her sentence, please?

…She can feel her skin crawling, like it wants to get away from her body.

“In a minute. After the break lets gather what we’ve got-”

“No, Kushinadahime, it’s-”

“And it's almost time to give father his medicinal teas and did you pack the things you'll need–”

“Kushinada-hime,” Ohatsuhime raises her voice. Few of the workers who weren't already have turned to look.

“Father. Isn't. Resting right now.”

“...Well, I can understand why not.” Is a dead son still called prodigal, or just lost? “He'd be working with the rest of us if he could, I bet.” 

“No, sister, he…he left, he left.” It's only a moment of pause, before she's suddenly dragging her baby sister back to dry land.

“What do you mean? When?! Why didn't you tell me earlier? Where could he be? Where could he have gone?!”

“He took Takashi-kun’s blade with him. He found something when we went to check the spot again, oh, I told him not to, I told him to stop, he never goes inside the grove but he kept on and we found– I think he’s going to Numachi-san’s inn!”

“What did he find?” She could grip her hair out in frustration, anger, worry. But as Ohatsuhime holds open the fist she kept at her side, Kushinadahime sees the silver thread–no, strand of hair there, and her stomach drops.

And thats the end of part one! Part Two will be linked here if you wanna see what happens next!

Taglist: @tanspostsblog @xmenteria

Poetry: Izumi Shikibu / Otomo no Yakamochi

[lichenes]

Here again! Really the number one fan of those law school fics. Maybe a sequel to the original? Making up for lost time and whatnot 🤭🤭 if you’re not in the mood for that then maybe Vincent and a reader who he meets in a museum and then they just keep running into each other as if it were fate

hi ilo o/ glad to see you're enjoying the fics<33 I decided to mix the two (kinda :P) cuz museum date night!! cute asf... sorry for not posting btw!! i have a cold and my body isn't working as well as I would like sjdshdkdsjh CW: kissing, mentions of dirty thoughts SFW wc: 389

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿_____

"Wanna go on a date?" You looked at him questioningly. "Of course, is that even a question?" He chuckled slightly. "I was thinking of going to a museum. There aren't many in this town I admit but..." he turned his laptop towars you. "This one looks to be certainly interesting."

You skimmed through the museum's page and nodded. "Yeah this seems fun." He beamed. "I know we're gonna enjoy this trip ma chérie." You blushed slightly a slew of ideas running through your head. "Ah, you're so dirty minded!" He said with a giggle.

You were walking around the room looking at the art pieces enjoying the paintings, sculptures and eachother's company. Vincent was quite knowlegable when it came to art and had at least one fun fact per art piece for you whilst you were perusing the stock of the museum.

"Oh and this one, the creator admitted to have been severely inebriated when making this one." He said chuckling. "Clearly, not his best work." He added. You were admiring the copy of "The Ambassadors" and how faithfully it was recreated with all the details Holbein put onto the painting and most importantly, The Skull.

In the next room, a copy of "The Kiss" was being displayed and it both floored you how beautifull it was. You pointed towards it and said "look it's us!". He smiled at you, laughing at the silliness of the statement.

"Yes ma chérie, it is indeed us." He closed the gap between you and trapped you in a short but passionate kiss. You felt a little dizzy after it ended...

"Remember when we went to that park that one time?" He asked when you passed across a paiting of a truly stunning garden. "Yeah, you got sick from not wearing a jacket." Vincent looked at you with an accusatory gaze. "Oh I wonder whose body I had to protect from the unrelenting wind back then?"

"I told you you would get a cold ma chérie." You retorted. "I'd rather get a cold and protect you from the evil, evil weather." He said theatrically. "Oh my saviour..." You said with faux fawning, teasing him.

You continued perusing the museum, hand in hand, content with how life was going. You were glad you finally got the chance to make up for the lost time...

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿_____ masterlist

[nyarlathotep-thecrawlingchaos]

Masterpost

REQUESTS ARE OPEN! Ask away!! You can find the rules here.

Update 06 FEB 25 — I'm still here, I swear. And I'm sorry.

Ko-Fi link if you wanna support a starving artist who will undoubtedly sob like a child if you do

Update 24.08.24 art commissions may be a thing soon

My beautiful wonderful amazing incredible readers and fellow simpers. Whether you’re here to read or to laugh at the unending simpfest, this is for you, to make your navigation through this shitshow of a blog a little easier.

If you’re new here……………I’m so sorry, and good luck. I’m a mess.

But no anyway. You can call me Nyarla. Or Yo She-Bitch. I’ll also answer to dude, bro, chick, weirdo, dumbass, just toss any general noun in my direction and I’ll probably respond. As an unknowable horror, gender is relative.

Get to Know the Unknowable!! (Infrequently Asked Questions)

Current fandom(s):

One Piece Live Action/One Piece in general

October 2024: There will also be a lot of horror shit going on over the course of this month, possibly into November, because I am and always have been a horror junkie. I write horror too, but if and when I ever get back to my original work, it will be on a separate blog if I decide to post anything.

Ask Request Statuses 2 Dec 2023

Masterlist Links are located beneath the frightened Nu.

Fluffy Alphabet

Claimable headcanons that you can send me ask requests for, all absolute fluff.

Alphabet Headcanons

NSFW & Fluff

Multi-Headcanons

Headcanons that comprise multiple characters in each post.

Dialogue I Presently Have No Use For

(But might eventually)

Basically mini dialogue-centric fics that may make their way into something else later or might not.

ABCs of Kink

NSFW One-shot and multi-chapter fics, based around a top-secret Kink Alphabet that will only be revealed with each fic. You may request letters that haven’t already been done, the alphabet can be edited and has been several times already.

Mihawk

Sassy McSwordsman Masterlist

Shanks

Silly Redhead Masterlist

Sanji

Flirty Chef Masterlist

Zoro

Marimo Masterlist

Adoptable devil fruits because I needed them and it took me an hour to find this damned post

Old Masterlist for nostalgia or something

[elderscrollsconceptart]

I hope this isn't an unwelcome suggestion, but I think you could extend the lifespan of the remaining new art by posting a little slower. I appreciate all of the art no matter how often you post, but it throws me off to have periods of silence followed by every other post on my dashboard being yours.

LONG REPLY BUT PLZ READ 🫶❤️

So i suppose some transparency about how i try to post might be appreciated by the community here so ill try my best!

I have posted TES art daily since this past winter and plan to continue to do so for a long as i can.

As it stands im not actually short on TES art whatsoever!

For example i still have thousands of pieces of TES Legends and ESO art remaining in my archive.

BUT

From the beginning of this blog i was aware of one major fact...

The available art from ESO and Legends outnumbers art from ALL the other TES games by several magnitudes.

Honestly i could exclusively post ESO and Legends art and probably not run out for years.

Typically I post in the evenings and (usually?) its 10-15 posts per day. Unfortunately even if I spaced them out through through the day I'd be going through all the art just as quickly on a day to day basis.

"Running out" isn't a concern in terms of the overall archive BUT it IS a concern for the TES games which have FAR less publicly available art and known artist credits, such as Morrowind or Oblivion.

I've long struggled with the fact that I (personally) care about posting art from the mainline games more than I care about posting art from ESO or Legends. I love all TES games but I personally view some of the art as more important to see preserved ATM, ESPECIALLY art from games pre-ESO or Skyrim.

Why am I more concerned about older TES art? Simple. Those games existed in era before artists commonly had digital portfolios. As such most of the art is either behind some sort of NDA or has never been digitized.

ESO AND LEGENDS ARTISTS ACTUALLY UPLOAD ALOT OF THEIR WORK TO THEIR PORTFOLIOS ONLINE. THANK GOD. I wish I could say the same for the older games :(

Like FR it's EASY to find ESO artists. You know what's NOT easy? Finding artists and art for games like Daggerfall or Oblivion. I want to ensure the more obscure art and artists (especially from the pre-eso era) get archived on here ASAP.

I've long decided I want this blog to serve as a digital archive of its own so people in the future can more easily find TES art AND the artists credits (if we have them).

It's really important to me that places beyond UESP partake in TES art archiving. That's what I *try* to strive for at least through this blog.

For transparency sake I may not be around to post here in a year or two due to a possible career change I'm looking at.

It's nothing certain but the career I'm looking at would effectively remove the kind of free time I'd need to run this blog.

The career change may never happen!! But in the event it does I wanna make sure I post all the TES art I can, with art from the older games taking priority.

---

Sorry for the word wall folks, but I love your love for this blog and you deserve transparency from me! ❤️🩷🧡💛💚💙💙🩵💜🤎

Todd Bless 🙏🙏🙏

[sereg0re]

just wondering, do you think you might be interested in posting graphic tutorials for like promos or headers or icon borders or whatever? all your graphics are so cool!!

hello! and thank you very much! 😊 currently, the only full tutorials i have are these if you find them helpful !

recoloring icons/graphics to add skintone if it's washed out by one color. how to fix fried colors/color match fried effect on psd colorings. simple icon borders. * this is the main formula to all my borders, including the ones in my commission examples; once you're able to get yourself an icon and (if you'd like) blockquotes, you can just slap some pngs around ur icon however you see fit and add your psd and you've got the idea to make your own !

as for a tutorial, i'd have to put some thought into whether or not i could make a full fledged tutorial, since making graphics can be a little more complex than a step-by-step walk through...at least, for me. a lot of it depends on the images i use, the placement of those images && recoloring/balancing colors. it depends on what you're trying to accomplish. however, here are some quick tips i'd personally recommend. i will be referencing photopea tools, as i use photopea.

PSD/COLORING. if you plan to use a psd on your graphic, add it first so you can see your progress as you go forward with your edit. // to add a psd (file>open) // when your psd is open, right click on the psd layer, layer>duplicate into and you'll see 'destination' with a dropdown. select the tab that your edit is taking place in.

even if you don't use a psd, there are several ways you can color match or adjust images if they look out of place. i personally use image>adjustments>selective color because i find it to be a major help; other helpful adjustments are image>adjustments>color balance // image>adjustments>channel mixer // image>adjustments>hue/saturation // image>adjustments>brightness/contrast // image>adjustments>levels // image>adjustment>curves // image>adjustment>exposure. really, just play around with it, psd or no psd—you can always come back to this step if you decide to add more imagery or balance something out later.

SHARPNESS/QUALITY/NOISE FILTERS. adding sharpness to an image can improve the quality of an image; though, it's best to stray from images with too poor of quality. ways to adjust sharpness are filter>sharpen // filter>smart sharpen // filter>unsharp mask. noise && grain filters can also add a sort of 'coverage' to any quality issues && you can do this in two ways. filter>noise>add noise // as is or monochromatic or filter gallery>film grain—lower the intensity or mess with the toggles as you please. you can either do this directly to your image if you're not worried about undoing it, or you can add a layer; if you're only trying to apply the grain layer to one object/png, you can turn that layer into a clipping mask. layer>new>layer, fill your new layer with white or black(or a chosen color, if you wanna experiment) && pick a blending option from the dropdown(it should say normal by default) i usually add a white layer && choose multiply or soft light. make sure to adjust your opacity toggle as you see fit && add noise/film grain as you see fit.

OVERLAY IMAGES/BLENDING. to blend overlay images (this can be texture overlays or simply adding another image), play with the blending options && opacity of your layer like you did with the noise/grain layers. this one you'll have to play with because it all depends on the lighting of your images && whatnot. you can also erase pieces that you don't want in frame if you need. to erase a corner or part in a way that doesn't look too harsh, i'd recommend lowering the hardness of your eraser brush.

TEXT. there are a variety of free fonts out there; here are some sites i use: one. two. three. // to make your text more dynamic, click the 'warp' button at top right, and you'll encounter a popup. you will go to where it says: style && choose from the dropdown (default is set to none). you can just play with the text until you're satisfied. you can also use the blending options on your text, if you so see fit.

additionally, you can duplicate your text layer; under the opacity of your text is a option that says 'fill'. switch the 'fill' to 0% && once you've done that, you can now right click blending options && check 'stroke'. adjust the color and size of your stroke and move the stroke layer around to add dimension(i usually move it back && downwards slightly). you can click your original text layer, right click it, go to blending options and check '3d'. you can change the color && distance && adjust the "darken" toggle to 0%.

PNGS. THESE STROKE && 3D EFFECTS LISTED IN TEXT ALSO WORK ON PNGS TO ADD DEPTH. png/cutout sites i use: one. two.

CLIPPING MASKS. if you want to put an image(lets say a image of a fc you have) inside of a shape(like a heart or circle), you can use clipping masks. you can refer to this tutorial i've made to see how clipping masks work for borders/icons. to get your desired image inside of a shape, right click your image>clipping mask && your image will be within the confines of the layer beneath it—the layer beneath it should be whatever shape/png you have in place.

that's all i can think of on the spot ? hope this helps !

[shuckinbeanz]

warnings/notes: Tumblr decided to post this incomplete so I had to finagle it lmfao kudos to Google lens for copying the majority of this and saving me some grief. n don worry ur secrets w me nonny! 🥰 N E WAYZ 🥵 NSFW, I'm gonna say y'all are married here, Daddy kink, chubby gn reader, stretchmarks, squirting+overstim, standing full nelson, breeding kink if u squint, reader can get pregnant, Kats is so mean to you ab your insecurities (in a good way i promise) so degradation, dirty talk, teensy bit of thigh worship(partly me indulging myself bc i have thicc ones), some orgasm denial, praise kink with a little bit of humiliation kink if u squint, biting? soft nibbling more like, n mirror sex. Told in his POV kinda bc who doesn't love a King who's head over heels for his s/o--it gets wonky at some point im sorry 😭

I'M FINALLY DOONE 😭😭

~Masterlist~

MINORS 👏 DNI! 👏 AGE 👏 IN 👏 BIO 👏 OR 👏 DNI! 👏 Head on over to @candybowbeansies please for my SFW pieces, or be blocked if you interact here! 😇

Tags: @dynamightsdaydream

You were doing it again. Prodding at the dips of your stretch marks morosely. And quite frankly it was pissing him off. He knew that look from ten miles away. He knew what your deep sigh meant, and he'd be damned if you do it again. Having enough of glaring daggers your way because you stubbornly kept your current mindset-one insecurity after the other-he resorted to picking you up, princess style.

"Kats!" you gasp, your rambling about how heavy you were going in one ear and out the other as he carried you straight to the bedroom with one thing on his mind; dealing with your insecurities the best way he knows how, by fucking them out of you.

"I'm a Pro, sweetheart. Carrying ten of ya is an everyday thing for me, so nice try, dumbass." he throws you onto the comforters, making you squeal in surprise.

You huff and squint at him as you sit upright, glaring your cute little glare as he readies the mirror. "What are you doing?" you finally ask, offended he brought you into its reflection to the point of near tears. "I'm huge," you start as he makes the strides towards you, "I'm ugly, I don't wanna see m'smff--" cutting you off by firmly planting his palm under your chin and squishing your pretty cheeks. Your pretty hues go wide, your pupils dilating at his stern look, a flush painting your features.

You were gonna get punished.

"We'll see how long you keep this up. Stop being a fuckin' brat." he gives you a meaningful squeeze before releasing you. "Now strip." he commands, and you shake your head before opening your mouth to speak.

"Strip, or that's another one to the dumpster." he seethes, eyeing what you wore as he settled beside you. You wisely clamp your mouth shut, immediately springing into action, knowing his habit of ripping your favorite clothes to shreds. While the money he makes can fill your closet with new ones, you preferred the ones you've worn down.  "Not so hard, now, is it, sweetheart?" he rasps warmly, a stark contrast to his earlier demeanor. "Now, c'mere." he coos, beckoning you over when you've removed the last article of clothing, and you disobediently stay where you are. "Don't make Daddy say it twice, toots." he warns you, making your breath hitch as you squirm in place.

Katsuki is a patient man for his spouse. After several moments you eventually begin to cave, and you inch towards him. He pats his lap, watching you fiddle with your fingers apprehensively. "What did I say?" a growl escapes him, and you begin to stutter, your beautiful face much more lurid in hue; of embarrassment, shame, and arousal.

"Y-Yes, Daddy..." a meek affirmation escapes you as you turn around and hesitantly take your seat, gasping as he all but grabs them plump, pretty hips, and pulls them down onto his lap.

He purrs in satisfaction, his large hands engulfing your plush thighs. "There we go. Atta sweetheart." he praises, groping and massaging them. "I wouldn't've married ya if I didn't like everything you had to offer." he starts. "You know me, sweetheart, yeah?" giving them a particularly firm squeeze. "Yeah?" he repeats firmly when you hesitate, his voice making you nod.

"The juicier, the better." he says, pressing them together. "Press these babies t'gether after a li'l TLC, makes a mighty fine cocksleeve. Nice and slippery, drives me up the wall every damn time, never fuckin' fails." he rasps in your ear, making you squirm. "And here?" he lifts one of his hands to grope your stomach, making you jolt. "Here, I stake my fuckin' claim." "Kats--" "Would prefer t'do it inside, turn you into my pretty li'l cumdump, keep you stuffed full of my kids." he interrupts you, thumbing up your inner thigh, stopping just short of your sex.

He revels in your whimper, in the flush that grew to the tips of your ears and down your neck, creeping towards your shoulders. "Can turn 'em info earmuffs, too." he squeezes your thigh, the hand on your stomach traveling up to fondle your chest.

"These here are just the cherry on top, sweetheart." he says, flicking one of your nipples, making you gasp. He scoots back, holding onto you to keep you in his lap. "See that mirror? I'll have ya yellin' how pretty you are by the end of this, and that's a fuckin' promise. Daddy doesn't go back on his promises." he tells you as he manhandles you into a more comfortable position with ease, paying special attention to groping at your tummy and thighs-the areas you were most insecure about.

He'd have those thoughts long gone before he's done with you, your pretty little head filled only with him.

He takes your hands, first guiding them to your plump pretty rolls. "Remember what I tell ya?" he asks, as he guides your hands lovingly across your body. Incoherent sounds escape you, and he hums encouragingly. "Little louder, toots." he tells you. You're silent for several moments, shyly speaking up.

"...like cinnamon rolls..." your voice comes out small as you lift your gaze to yours and his reflection in the mirror, cheeks painted the prettiest color. "Mmhm, and?" he rasps coaxingly in your ear.

"Y'could...gobble 'em up..." you go redder as his crimson eyes meet yours in the reflection, your own hues darting downward. "Damn right." he chuckles, giving a playful nibble to your neck, eliciting a soft gasp and shudder from you. "Can't convince me that's not what those bastards are fantasizin' when they stare at'cha a little bit too fuckin' long. Really pisses me off." he growls, "I like watchin' 'em bounce, too. They're for my eyes, only, yeah?" he tells you.

It was true. The hungry gazes you'd get from thirsty passerby was far from being a rarity or occasional, not that you didn't like it though. Your guard dog of a husband's protectiveness always did set a fire in your belly.

"And these?" he inquires, his large hands moving to your thighs, guiding them apart-but you stubbornly keep quiet. He bends, chuckling darkly. "Take your time, baby." he tells you, mouthing at your neck, his crimson hues dark and knowing. You try to avert your gaze, but one of his big calloused hands grips your chin, making you look back at the reflection, his other toying with your pulsing sex.

You wouldn't be able to keep it up much longer.

"Earmuffs..." you mumble shyly, trying to remember through the haze. "Th'juicier--th'better--" you gasp, unable to keep from squirming anymore as his finger teases your entrance. "Mhmm, and?" he encourages you, his voice husky in your ear.

"Ahh--oohh, Daddy, m'sorry--" you barely contain your moans, wriggling your hips a little, wanting nothing more than those thick fingers to fill you up.

“Don't be.” he tells you, his voice clear through the pulsing heat, “Don't be, baby.” he soothes. “From the crown of your head, down to your pretty little toes. Every fuckin’ inch, gorgeous.” he tells you, inserting one finger.

“Ya like t’keep spoutin’ nonsense, about perfection, about who's deservin’ of what.” in goes another as he continues-really, he’s too perfect for you-curling his fingers only just a tad, not quite enough to quell the fire.

“This whole damn planet don't deserve you.” he moves his hand, fingers pulling out in a slow drag, curled up against your spongy spots, “You know damn well y'can't convince me otherwise, sweets.” he whispers in your ear. You moan at the sudden onslaught; large calloused fingers pumping in and out of your heat at a dizzying pace, his palm rubbing against your sex deliciously.

You find rhythm with him, bringing your hips up for more, wantonly humping his hand. It's not long before your husband's skillful fingers are coated with your slick, and your teetering on the brink of orgasm.

He knew exactly how to drive you crazy. His voice in your ear, the strong grip he had on your chin. His skillful fingers bringing you up, and up, and up-only to suddenly stop.

You whine and squirm, reaching down to get that high, only for your hands to be swat away, his large palm covering your pulsing heat. "What'd I say, baby?" he pants in your ear, voice husky. He was clearly enjoying this. You could feel his hard cock straining against his sweatpants, pressing up against the meat of your ass.

And if you were going to be honest, you were enjoying this, too.

"Daaaddddyyy~" you whine, high pitched and desperate, closing your legs. "Nuh-uh." he grunts, pulling one of your legs in the hook of his elbow. "What'd I say, toots?" he asks again.

"I'm big, an' ug-ghoooh!~" you try, with a hint of squirmy sass, quickly cut off by his fingers plunging into your needy heat again. "Nope. Wrong answer." he growls.

You keen his name, legs trembling as he ravages your spongy bits, knuckle deep. He slows to a drag just as you're about to reach your high. "Last time, what'd I say...?" he rasps in your ear. You squirm and hump his hand as best you can, face hot and head fogging over, frustrated tears starting to prick your eyes.

Adamantly, you try to shake your head with him holding your chin, squeezing your eyes shut so you wouldn't have to look at yourself in the mirror anymore.

Because he's convinced you, like all other times. You're perfect. At this point, you were only being stubborn, but you refused to admit it easily.

The moment his fingers leave your heat, though; all that crumbles. "Nooo!~" you release a high pitched whine. It crashes and burns, your sweet, sweet release seeming even further away.

" 'm pretty! 'm hot! 'm sexy, I--" your voice cuts off as he eases his thick fingers back in, where you needed them most. "What else, toots?" he asks, voice husky. "Got sexy curves!~ Thick n' warm n' jiggly!~ Oohh, yes, Daddy please, right there!~" you keen as his skillful fingers pick up the pace, scissoring you open. "Keep going." he commands you.

" 'm thighs!~ Stretchmarks, too, they--they look, oh fuck, Daddy, Daddy, 'm coming!~" you squirt all over his palm, shaking your hips against his hand as best you could, riding your high.

You go completely limp against him, panting harshly. Slowly, sensually, you feel that same hand travel around the curve of your ass and up your thigh.

When you feel him reach behind you, between your bodies, and pull down his sweats, you can't help the pleasant shudder that escapes you.

"Daddy, 'm legs're jelly, I can't--" you try weakly, but he shushes you. "There's positions for that, sweetheart." he pants softly in your ear as he manhandles you into position to take his throbbing, red-hot cock.

Your toes curl in delight at the stretch, his cock all but filling you up. He pulls you into a full nelson, "Daaadddyyyyyy!~" you squeal in surprise when he stands, impaling you just right, making your hole gush.

"Didn't tell ya t'stop, did I?" his hisses hotly in your ear. "Nhooh~" you moan. "Touch yourself." he commands, and this time, he doesn't have to tell you twice; you snake your hand in front of you and start stroking. "Wanna hear your pretty voice, c'mon." he grunts, his strong arms keeping you fully secure as he proceeds to use you like a pocket pussy.

"Dad~dy~ I'm!~"

You sing hot praise to yourself in the mirror, getting lost in your own little world as your husband bounces you on his fat cock, encouraged by his lewd praises. This goes on until you're fucked stupid-until he's made you cum at least twice all over the mirror.

Only then would he have mercy, cleaning you up and tucking you in.

The next time you'd wake up, he'd already have your favorites prepared. Really, he's such the perfect husband for you. <3

[kpchrs]

Kris on Crack! Before 2024 ends!

but this time treated seriously. I think. Maybe.

Kris:

Céline:

[Comments from "A Walk in Chiaroscuro" Chapter 26]

This is a fanfiction of AWIC, so it's loosely based on it, even though it sets in a Crack(?) Timeline. I teased this...project of mine months ago in this post lol People who haven't read AWIC, I'm sorry maybe this won't really make any sense. But I mostly just write it for Céline @celinou

Word Count is 4,065, so if you wanna read it in PDF format, click here!

Happy KRISmas, happy holidays, and happy CeliNOU year! 👁️👄👁️ This is not a Christmas present though, not even a late one, it's just long overdue.

(******)

Is this the place? Eyeing a small piece of paper slipped between my fingers, I re-read. ‘Caulfield-Prescott Detective Agency,’ the paper says, an address accompanied below it. I raise my head and find the exact words on the monochrome nameplate of a building in front of me, formed with flossy block letters in a bold font. The nameplate design reminds me of a photography studio instead of a P.I. agency, with all the classy and chic pretentiousness, but yes, I think I’m in the right place.

Fixing my tie, I let out a shaky breath.

You can do this, Sussy, I hype myself up, trying to swallow down my anxiety. Yes, I can do this. With a newer assurance, I step into the office.

“Hello?” I call inside, the door chimes ringing prettily over my head. “My associate called this morning? For your service?”

Silence. I frown my brows, then decide to scan the space. The office is — what can I say — peculiar? Vintage goods that, I think, belong to the 1980s period decorate the black furnishings of the office. It’s there on the walls (a dreamcatcher) or the table (lacy tablecloth). It’s a mix of noir and retro aesthetics and, at a second thought, I think it looks quite…charming and personable.

I blink. Can’t believe I just thought that.

I was going to call out again when —

FLASH!

Sudden whiteness attacks my eyes, blinding me and shocking my heart to jump. My reflex system automatically pulls my lids to close and I cover my poor eyes with my palms. “What in the god’s name?!”

I open my eyes and a feminine figure — bobbed hair, a gray blazer over a T-shirt and jeans, quite small relative to my stature — appears blurrily in front of me. She stares at her camera (vintage Polaroid?) for a second too long, before she blinks several times.

“Uh?” I let out a sound, confused.

“Oh, sorry,” she says, shaking the Polaroid photo that comes out. “It’s our procedure, everyone is told before coming here. I hope you don’t mind.”

Uh...they never told me that. She slips the photo in her blazer pocket and I miss the opportunity to ask. But it’s only a photo, despite it being an unflattering one. I probably would have to give my photo for their archiving and administration, anyway.

With that, I shrug off my thoughts and land my gaze at the detective.

The detective; she’s younger than I imagined. I almost think of her as the receptionist of the building at first with a curious greeting style, which I quickly wave off once I observe her closely. She has the air; the air of confidence, of sureness. She stands with a pair of strong feet on solid ground. She can even brace the...storm, you can say, with that steel foothold. When she looks into my eyes, however, hers bears into mine and it turns out the storm in question resides in her blue eyes. That gaze of hers may even be stronger than her footing, I think absentmindedly.

She introduces herself as Max Caulfield. I call her Miss Caulfield to be polite. She explains that her partner, Mr. Prescott, is out right now so we have to make do with just her while he finishes up with his business. Fine by me. If this agency is as competent as they told me, then I’m sure I’m in the right hands anyway. Half the two detectives in my presence, maybe it’s a good thing. It’s easier for my nerves to speak to one, instead of two. It’s a relief if I want to be honest with myself.

Miss Caulfield invites me to sit on the couch, facing her, and she offers me a cup of coffee, which I gladly accept as I am increasingly in need of some filling in my churning stomach.

“You’re — wowser,” Miss Caulfield breathes out an amazed laugh as I stir some sugar into my cup, “you’re Mr. Drusus de Murrer, aren’t you? An actor, am I right?”

“Oh,” I breathe. I haven’t even introduced myself yet. Excited blush can’t help to heat my cheeks. “You’ve heard of me? I thought I’m only a small actor.”

“Yes,” she says, eyes twinkling as if amused. “Yes, of course I have heard of you, Mr. De Murrer.”

“Thank you.” I relax at that. Weird as she is, hearing someone so far in the field have heard about my little career is flattering.

Suddenly Miss Caulfield pushes a crystal ashtray in front of me. “You can smoke, I don’t mind.”

I stare at the ashtray for a beat. “Pardon?”

“You are jittery.” She gestured a finger at my right foot — which is apparently bouncing like there’s no tomorrow and I don’t even realize it. Oh. I immediately cross my feet to make it stop.

“I don’t smoke. I’m fine.” I raise my cup. “This is enough, Miss. I thank you.”

“Really?” She pauses. “Okay.” Miss Caulfield nods and puts the ashtray away.

I bring the cup to my mouth and sip. The blend of fragrant bitter and sweet flows through so smooth and I hum appreciatively. “‘This is, excuse me, a damn fine cup of coffee,’” I say. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”

Miss Caulfield lights up, recognizing the reference to the quote. “Had I not known what my partner would yap to my ears, I would have given you the whole pot.” I beam at that. “And, that’s good, because he made sure it’s damn fine coffee beans and wouldn’t accept otherwise.”

She then tells me to speak whenever I want. At that, the flickery good mood I have dims instantly. My head droops and I set my eyes on my reflection on the coffee. Dark and brown, and I picture two pools of eyes I’m very familiar with because I’ve stared at them for 10 years.

“My fiancé...she’s missing,” I begin. It’s Lilly in my mind now; beautiful face, dark lush hair, brown skin, bright smile, and her grief-stricken expression as she hugged my dead, beloved cat last year. Not long, my eyes water. I try to hold them back. I shouldn't cry right now. Not the time. “It was three days ago. We had a fight. We slept separately that night. And the next day, I got this letter.”

I hand Miss Caulfield the letter left on our dining table. On it, I remember words like ‘need some time apart’ and ‘don’t contact me, I’ll be fine’ are written.

“I was waiting for her at first. But on the second day, I finally cracked and called the police. But they just told me to wait for her a bit longer,” I spit the last sentence bitterly, as if the black bitterness of the coffee I’ve swallowed has enveloped my words.

Miss Caulfield considers the letter in a literal second. “Sounds like she’s going away for a while? Maybe you should listen to the cops.”

“But it’s out of character for Lilly!” I snap. “She wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t just leave!”

It drives me insane, really, all the waiting. For seconds, minutes, hours, days. I’ve been restless like the fragile winter trees. Right at the moment when I couldn’t take all the waiting anymore, my colleague told me to consult the famous detective duo I’ve only heard in passing.

Miss Caulfield; I gaze at her in desperation. She is considering the letter longer right now, perhaps using her detective hawk blue eyes to puzzle out the details in the letter. For a moment, I feel my heart bump a ball into my throat that I swallow down instantly.

“Do you have more details?” she asks, and I do.

“Met in a small theater, she and I.” I smile, as I reminisce about the good, old days. “We are both actors, you know, Miss Caulfield? We hadn’t been anything back then. She was more fond of the theater than I and so she stayed there while I got the offer to further my career in cinema and television. I understood that. The instant feedback and intimacy we got from the audience is second to none, but I’d made a choice. However, later I saw her again.”

I just lost an audition that day and found myself wandering the streets. Not wanting to face the people I disappointed again and again. Instead, my feet brought me to the small theater, my origin that sheltered and nurtured me as an actor. As if while I felt lost, my body wasn’t. So I went inside. An original play was playing, with Lilly on the spot of the female lead, playing off the male lead on the stage.

She was radiant. Gleaming. She was happy. And I wasn’t.

I asked her how, when she spotted me at the end of the play later.

Because I’m happy enough broke, she answered, quite saucily. I had the feeling that she took a jab at me and my decision to leave the theater, but at that moment she was so charming in my view that I took no offense.

“We had more rendezvous after. The more we talked, the more I realized how different we became, but she said that it was I who became different, living in the wider world. Because she was sure she stayed the same,” I tell Miss Caulfield, who is only blinking at me. “But it’s the glue of our relationship, I suppose. Nothing was boring between the two of us. When I finally got my first role, I gathered my courage to ask her out and she said yes. And then that miraculously went long enough that she, embarrassingly, was the one who proposed marriage to me 3 years ago. She’s a weird woman.” I chuckle fondly.

“I won’t lie to you, Miss Caulfield,” I continue in a wry tone. “Of course we have our ups and downs. We are admittedly at our low period right now, which was what, I think, sparked our fight the other day.” I swallow and slowly exhale. “That day I got home late and she didn’t like that. So we fought.”

Drusus, she chastised, you are late again.

One would imagine her standing with hands on hips, eyes pointed angrily. But at that time Lilly just curled up at the corner of our couch, hugging her feet to her chest and sinking. 

It was raining. It was dangerous, I reasoned to her, irritated. What do you expect me to do?

Call me! she shouted, finally straightening upright and seeing me. It’s that easy!

The sudden change in tone shocked me, prompting me to slip a hand to grab my phone in my jacket. My phone died. I admit, it was wrong for me to neglect telling her for any reason. Even more when I realized that she had been trying to contact me all this time. So I began to say, I’m sor —

You changed, she cut my apologies. You have been changing further and further, away from me.

I was stunned, because that truly came out of nowhere. What on earth do you mean, woman? I just got home late once and that’s what you concluded? I changed? What even— I gritted my teeth. Everyone changes, Lilly! You are so irrational! Frustratedly, I threw my hands heavenward. God, what’s wrong with me choosing my own career path? I thought we were over this! Why are you always questioning everything I do?

You only took that path of yours for money! she retorted.

It’s that money that bought this house, I snapped. The house I bought after you wanted marriage. My money. The money you said you were happy without.

Her face turned blank, as if she just lost all her fire. You are right, she muttered. I’m happy enough broke.

And after that —

“— she left.” I exhale shakily. “She left. She’s gone. I woke up in our bed. The letter is on the table. Can’t call her. And she never calls.” Ghosts emerge in my eyes and I project them onto the woman in front of me when I look up to her. “I’m not a saint, Miss Caulfield. I’m not. You should know from my story. I have many regrets. The way I— I responded to her that night is one of the few…thousand.” I shot out a bitter laugh. “I shouldn’t have done that to her,” I choked out. I shouldn’t have done that to her.

Lilly, oh god, Lilly.

Finally, I let the waves overwhelm my being. I openly weep in front of this young woman. The tears which had been waiting in the queue burst through the dam and I snivel, blubber, and hiccup for god knows how long. As long as it needs. As much as whatever amount is inside me.

Miss Caulfield kindly gives me a box of Kleenex then and I take a generous amount. Such a nice person, she is. I wipe whatever gross liquid leaking on my face as politely as possible, sort of embarrassed breaking down before an audience of one.

After giving me a moment to compose myself, Miss Caulfield says, “I have one question.”

“Of—Of course, Miss,” I sniffle, dabbing a tissue paper on my wet cheek, shakily smiling, “anything.”

“Yes, so…” Miss Caulfield pauses, eyes narrowing and her lips pursing. “Why did you kill her, Mr. De Murrer?”

My smile stills. “I…I beg your pardon?”

“Why did you kill your fiancé, Mr. De Murrer?” she repeats casually.

“I, uh,” I blabber. Goddamnit, mouth. “I-I don’t understand. Wh-what do you mean ‘I killed her’? I told you: she’s missing. This— You are mistaken.” I breathe out a burst of laughter. “Why didn’t you tell me you’ve misheard all this time?”

“No, no, it’s not a mistake.” Miss Caulfield smiles and it sends shivers down my spine. “I know for a fact that you killed her.”

The remaining coffee sours in my mouth, nauseating. Water leaks again, not self-induced and not from my eyelids, but from the salivary glands in my mouth.

“Yes, yes, I can see it…” She stands up, circling the sofa, which at this point is the only thing preventing me from collapsing on the floor. “Miss Lilly Dade.” She—She knows her last name? “A week from today, she’ll be found in her hiking outfit in the mountains. Dead.”

Ice. It’s all ice and frost in my veins—

“But the forensics will find that she’s not murdered there, no.” She shakes her head. “Because, Mr. De Murrer, in her hair, a sample of dirt and soil not possibly from the mountains will be found. You know, minerals and chemistry stuff. And so, they will conclude that she’s dumped there, not killed in the location.”

And as if she’s reading from an invisible note, she continues, “Set like an accident, isn’t it? As if she gets into an accident while hiking and falls to her death. The forensics will analyze her estimated time of death, basing it on her decomposition state: over a week ago when she’ll be found. Cause of death: a fatal blunt force at the back of the skull, killed instantly. But the murder weapon, basing on the tool mark on the skull bone: a blunt object, but not a big rock you will typically find in the mountains, no. No chips of rocks or pebbles stuck in the mark. No rock around the area matches the mark either. However, there’s something there: one or two broken crystal chips.”

I automatically glance at the crystal ashtray on the table. Miss Caulfield notices and she smiles knowingly.

“Yes, just like that one, I suppose. Miss Dade didn’t smoke either, did she? If not you, then who regularly used the ‘murder weapon’ in your home? Well, we’ll talk about that later, I guess.”

Miss Caulfield stops, filling her cup with more coffee and sugar. She stirs it and the spoon hits the inside of the cup. Every clang pierces the air and she does it so slowly I almost suspect she does it to torture me. But the real torture is what comes next.

“Did you panic, Mr. De Murrer? After she fell like a marionette on her face, did you check her pulse on her neck? Did you find none? Did you flip her body on the floor? Disturbing the fresh wound? Did you miss the way her face was bruised into blue from the floor? Did the blood smear all over your hands, your arms, your sleeves? Did the blood seep through the floor gap? Did, in your panic daze, you perform CPR? Did you sing ‘Stay Alive’ to press on beat? Did you break her ribs trying to uselessly revive her? Because that’s another crack the autopsy will find other than the skull.”

Miss Caulfield grins widely, so menacingly.

“Did you give up finally? Did you lift up her body, trying to move her somewhere else? Did you change your mind and keep her on the floor? Did you glance outside of your house and see your yard, dirt soft from rain? Did you decide to bury her in your yard? Did you search for a shovel? Did you really try? Did you put her body in a shallow hole? Did you tremble before you covered her face with dirt? Did you change your mind again? Did you finally decide to dispose of her body in the mountains?”

The train halts for a spell.

“Your clumsiness left trails all over the body, did you know that? It’s obviously not a murder by a professional. It’s not premeditated either. Yet you still brave yourself to come here. I’m impressed.”

She takes a sip.

“So, I ask you again, why did you kill her? Or, better yet,” she says, “why do you come here and perform?”

A beat.

The last question has been uttered. All that leaves is a deafening silence.

It’s bizarre how your brain decided that this is the moment when — even beneath your hammering heart, your roaring icy blood in your veins, and your whirring breath in your ears — you can still hear every echo of her voice. It’s as if my brain completely forgot to protect me in the face of danger, choosing the freeze option from ‘flight or fight’, forcing me to stiffen and fixate on the weird way this detective is talking. As if she has seen things she couldn’t have seen. The future, and perhaps, the past.

The room spins.

I can’t breathe. Oh, I can’t breathe. I’m going to faint. What…what is happening here? 

I thought, they had made sure— they had made sure to fix everything thoroughly? My colleague…the—the organization makes sure to do that…no? My only role is to come here! They told me to. They—they told me to…

My body frantically searches for something to calm down. For some reason, my hand trembles towards my cup.

No, no. Sussy. None of this even makes any sense. Unless my colleague decided to prank me to participate in a mystery version of The Truman Show, absolutely nothing that has happened so far makes any sense. Like how she deduced to the small details I’m sure I don’t even remember.

I squeeze the coffee cup between my two hands, and freeze as the thought hits me.

“You put something in my coffee!”

She must have drugged me. I must have hallucinated all of this. Or, maybe I just told her the truth unknowingly and I blacked out and then she tortured me with truth when I didn’t know —

“Um, no, that’s a regular coffee.” She raises her eyebrows, looking scandalized. “And that’s fucked up! I’m not Jefferson! ...Or Nathan. Oh, god.”

Ignoring her denial and mention of someone I’ve never heard of, I throw the cup to the wall in panic. It shatters into pieces.

She gaped. “Are you cereal? That’s my favorite vintage cup set! And you stained the wallpaper!”

They…they tricked me! They want to trap me! I knew it was odd. I knew it was odd! Why would they send me here? Why should I expose myself to famous detectives in the first place? It doesn’t make sense!

Realization dawns on me.

The organization wants me to be the scapegoat.

I whip my head in the direction of…of her. Pointing my trembling finger, I quaver, “They are working with you!”

She stops glowering and instead looks thoughtful. “They who?”

I stare at her inquisitive face, totally unscrambled from my accusation, and I don’t believe her at all. Because there’s no other explanation. She is working with them.

I spin my head around the room, searching for…a group of assassins, or a team of cleanup, or whoever it is from them who will catch me with ropes, blindfolds, gags, and guns. Searching for the familiar face of my colleague who will smirk like a villain cartoon character and take his chance for his own evil monologue. That everything is just to trap me for the greater good of the organization. That the famous detective duo is under their thumbs all along. That this elaborative prank is designed to cut loose ends. And that I was chosen and trashed for the role to distract the masses because I’ve failed to keep what I do a secret from her— And I decided to not wait for it to happen.

I step back and I stumble on the couch— I almost yelp. Taking no regard to the detective’s calm expression, serenely observing, I collect myself, kick the floor, and grab my lifeline; the crystal ashtray.

“Don’t move!” I shout, raising the ashtray above my head in a shaky threat. Her eyes are huge, though absent of fear, but I can’t spare any second to consider what that means. I slowly move backwards, never taking my eyes off of her. After a moment, I push through the door, the chimes clanging chaotically over my ashtray, and bolt away.

For some reason, she lets me escape. The last thing I hear from that horrible place is:

“As expected of a theater actor…but you can never fool a time traveler.”

(***)

“I think I played around too much.”

“No shit, Sherlock! You were supposed to wait for me to come! Not do...whatever the hell that was!”

“I couldn’t help it! It sounded so funny in my head!”

“Yeah, it’s sooooo funny because now you can withhold anchoring for sooooo long and now you are wasting our GODDAMN time!”

“...”

“Don’t look at me like that. Time is relative. You know that more than anyone else, right, because now we have to wait for your power to come back, Max?!”

“Okay, okay, I’m sorry. Now what’s the plan?”

“We had the plan! I was gonna interrogate the shit out of the bastard with my power…but then you ruined my fun!”

“Ugh, Nathan, what?”

“Scaring bastards is fun, yeah? Don’t you fucking judge me when you just did it!”

“Geez, okay, I will wait for you next loop. Or maybe we can use this different photo I found.”

“Great.” He nods, satisfied. “At least we have confirmed that Mr. Whatsitsname is the murderer. And now that organization… But, for now, we can jumpstart the investigation in that direction. Oh, right, and preventing that mysterious organization ends him.”

“I guess.”

Nathan sighs. “Don’t waste time again, pixie. I’m overworked because the FBI is hopeless. I want all this to be over soon, pretty fucking please.”

Max can’t hold her chuckles in. “Okay, Nate, okay.”

(***)

FLASH!

“What in the god’s name?!”

White spots crowd my sight. Rubbing at my eyes, standing before me are two figures of a man and a woman. She holds a camera (vintage Polaroid?) towards me while he rests one of his arms on the nearest shoulder of hers to him.

“Welcome, sir. Been expecting you.” The wide grin he has sends shivers down my spine. “How about you take a seat?”

“Ungh?” I let out a pathetic sound which converts into a strangled one when his gloved hand hauls my collar to the sofa.

The man drags a crystal ashtray (what a coincidence) in front of him, pulling out a pack of menthols and a lighter. “You smoke? Oh, right, you don’t. Well, then…” He reaches for something else and offers with twinkling eyes and a grin that is now full of puffs:

“Coffee?”

[vulturesrottencorpse]

what do people have against closed fantribes??

i see lots of hate for closed fantribes and I honestly don't get it. Actually, I do, sort of, but I also don't.

I used to be one of those people who hated closed fantribes and would rant about them for ages until I found one really amazing one (won't be naming and less "popular" tribes BC I know someone's gonna go out of their way to harass them.) that switched my perspective completely

The main thing people have against them is that they are from an already existing piece of media (wings of fire) which hey that's actually true, that was my reason for hating them, however if you take that logic and apply it to any other thing like adopts, p2u bases, commission art, ect ect, then shouldn't everyone hate that too?

The second, and biggest reason is the prices I guess. People will rant about some certain poptribes (dewwings seem to be the main target) because they're expensive. I have some news for you. The artists who create drawing designs, or any designs from other fantribes, are all INCREDIBLY talented, and artists have the right to price their art how THEY think is fair. I thought everyone knew this but no, apparently not when it comes to this specific thing. Yes, dews can go for over 200$, but that's from auctions where people are actively choosing what they use their money on. You are not forced to buy a dewwing, or any closed fantribe. Me for example, I'm too young for a job or a bank account, yet I own a few, and several other closed fantribe characters, because more often than not there are alternative ways to get them!! I got my rare dewwing for FREE. completely free, through character trading. Some people also take art as payment!! What I'm saying is, 1, artists don't have to cater their prices to how YOU think is fair, they are the artist, they decide how they price. 2, said artists are super talented! Heartspark? WOW, absolutely stunning designs every single time! Honeybee st? GORGEOUS, genuinely makes the best designs I've ever seen (imo), eldragonis? IMMACULATE use of colour and anatomy, WOW. and that's just to name the most populous ones! Guys, they are popular for a reason! Their art is amazing, they spend their time creating these gorgeous pieces, just for people to attack them and tell them their prices are too high and not worth it? 3, you do not HAVE to pay money! There will always be ways to get characters from closed species for those who may not have the money to spend, if they didn't, let's be honest, they would fail as a community. Nobody is grabbing you by the throat and screaming at you to spend 200$ on this legendary trait dragon character! So then, why should you care if people who do have that money to spend use it on that? It's their money they can spend it however they want.

Instead of veiwing closed fantribe owners as scummy money hungry evil overlords, and start viewing them as they are, artists making a living by doing what they love!

(psssst, this post isn't an invitation to start drama, if U wanna share it opinion plz do it respectfully 😭 <3)

[yandere-isopod]

Making a new pinned post and I still have no eye for design so it is still not formatted all sexy. :(

Boring shit about myself first:

I’m Haru, (they/them) I don’t have a set theme here I just throw my impulsive thoughts out to make them everyone’s problem. I am delusional and obsessive with friends and my spouse so I post obsessive and sometimes toxic rants a lot. If you’re uncomfortable with yandere content you will be uncomfortable with this page. Everything I post about people is completely consensual. Somehow I ended up around people who are very insecure so my “I’ll kill you if you ever leave me” is usually met with blushing and a heartfelt thanks. But that’s just to say that anyone I’m talking about is fully aware of my behavior and feelings and actively encourages me being feral for some reason.

I don’t really have solid rules on asks except don’t sexualize me. You can sexualize any OCs or game characters, you can even send platonic yandere asks, I just absolutely do not want to be sexualized. Compliment me like you would a really neat piece of furniture and you wouldn’t fuck the furniture… right?

I’m making a game

And I’ll put that in big fucking letters cause I’m very excited about it. It’s called Nozomi and anything about it is tagged under that. I would describe it as a farming survival rpg. But most of the people following it are here cause they saw “yandere love interests” and are starved for content.

Nozomi is a love letter to my darling who loves yanderes so every marriageable character has the potential to be yandere. (There are also a couple platonic yanderes as well and at least one who is aromantic.) You have the power to either help them get help, or encourage their deranged behavior and enjoy the consequences of your actions.

You start the game taking over as the deity of an island that is loosely based off the town my grandma grew up in Japan. The island and its inhabitants are in a pretty bad way when you start and where you go from there depends entirely on what you want to do with it. Not just with the islanders, but with each quest there’s several ways you can complete it and things change in the world based on what you decide to do.

Nozomi is built to be diverse. There are different body types, races, disabilities, sexualities and gender identities. I’m not making this game to make money, I’m making it because I wanna make my spouse’s perfect game and I feel like I have a fun idea that a lot of people will enjoy. If you are homophobic, racist, fatphobic or transphobic: I DO NOT WANT YOU TO BUY MY GAME. You aren’t welcome here. I don’t care if there’s only one person who ever buys the game, I’m very loud about those opinions and while I can’t outright ban someone from purchasing something on Steam I can certainly make it impossible to miss my feelings on the subject.

By the end of the year (ideally by fall but definitely by December) I’ll have a steam page which I will post here, and I’ll be having people bug test it. Most of game development is when everything is “finished” so even though I’m pretty far in, I don’t expect to actually release it for another year and maybe two. A lot of it now is just writing and art but I have a much bigger team now, so I’m hoping that goes pretty quickly.

Current artists who have worked on the project are:

NaniWasabi - https://www.fiverr.com/naniwasabi/design-assets-or-sprites-for-any-digital-need

IncognitoAnkh - https://www.fiverr.com/ankhasmodeus

Piyan Apriyanto - https://www.fiverr.com/piyanapriyanto

Maia - @lacrymoria

Robin - @nepeta

Current writers who have worked on the project are:

Almond - @miodaisgay

Drops - @sleepingbirch

Beelzebutt

Drama Lama of the Alpaca Lips

I will add links and artist names as they join the project or give me their links.

[aj1dordinary]

GRWM to participate in a life or death brawl!

platonic!Johnny Cage x platonic!gen-z!reader; neutral!Kenshi Takahashi x neutral!reader; platonic!Raiden x platonic!reader; platonic!Kung Lao x platonic!reader; platonic!Lui Kang x platonic!reader

@one-green-frog @whore-of-many-hot-men xox

thank you guys for showing love to my very first piece! i look forward to providing you with as much content that i can pump out! now that i’ve essentially finished the general background info, I’m gonna try to follow the storyline as closely as possible while also developing the lore for !reader. bear with me pls! don't know about any relationships taking place, but that may change. anyway, enjoy! xox

“hey guys! welcome back to my channel! as you all know, johnny and i decided to take a little vacation in between some of his big projects. that doesn’t mean that you miss out on all the action though so here’s a quick little get ready with me in this rehab facility he checked us into!” you poke your tongue out and shoot a peace sign to the camera before turning it around and showing the beautiful scenery of the monk academy.

“y/n! check this shit out!” johnny wails, he began showing his improved skills by throwing punches at a wooden dummy and with an uppercut, knocked the head a good 5 yards away. 

you whistle and track the trajectory of the dummy head with your phone. you’d managed to ration out your battery life despite filming and posting an abundance of johnny’s new life of martial arts. 

johnny runs over after to see the video for himself and as you play it back for him, he notices someone looking on with great disdain. 

“kenshi, man! I’m telling you, if you wanna piece, all ya gotta do is ask.” he makes a show of it by flexing his arms and posing as if he was back on the red carpet. 

kenshi rolls his eyes and lets out a puff of air, “i dont want anything you have to offer, john.” he crossed his arms and turns his attention toward the other guys that lui kang recruited to be the power rangers of earthrealm. 

you learned that kung lao and raiden were their names. you had to stop johnny from getting himself cancelled as he tried to make references to Godzilla when the men clearly were not of that origin. but they were cool people, you’d have to make a mukbang with them one day for sure. you paused, realizing you were no better in terms of geography.

“oh really? not even sentō?” speaking of being an antagonistic asshole, johnny removed the sword from his back and waved it around, trying to perform swift and severe moves as a ninja would. he made it a goal to make the sounds as well. 

you just stood at the ready, phone already recording and the sound picking up the popping of bubblegum in the background. a week in and you traded in your black flats and pantsuit for the same training attire that the guys were wearing. you were by no means throwing any punches, but you’d be damned if you didn’t match for aesthetic purposes.

kenshi stopped in his tracks, “oh i think you done did it now, johnny baby…” you twirl a curl of hair between your fingers, lowkey focused more on the rippling muscles and raging testosterone that put itself on display for you.

“now, now. if there is gonna be a brawl of any sorts, its going to be the one that decides who our champion of earthrealm will be.” 

“ahhh, the all-knowing, all-powerful always has such perfect timing,” you coo. “what’s hopping kangaroo?” 

“ah, i’ve been managing the behind the scenes of the competition. making sure all is in order for whomever our champion will be.” he smiles genuinely before bowing before you out of kindness. you would be rude to not return it.

“which is totally going to be me.” kung lao says affirmatively before throwing his makeshift razor-hat. it passes just over your head before getting imbedding in the side of a building.

“watch were you throw that thing! you kill my assistant, you replace her!” johnny pokes at his shoulder.

“nice to know that you value and care for her…” raiden chips in. 

“word.” was all you said in agreement.

“right…” lui kang claps his hands together, looking over the lively bunch in front of him. part of you wonders if he was beginning to regret his choice in heroes.

“as I was saying, today is the day. whoever comes out victorious in the matches will be earthrealm’s champion and will go on to battle against outworld warriors to defend the title. we will start with johnny and kenshi.”

“y/n, watch me beat his ass real quick.” 

“best 2 out of 3?” you say as you join lui kang on the sidelines. he simply nods.

“round 1… fight!” you say before banging the gong.

“beat his ass, johnny! wooooo!” you jump and cheer from the sidelines. 

“finish me johnny cage~” a robotic voice chimed from your phone. the sideline goes silent before you mutter a quick “oops” to check what the fuck just happened. 

you’re accidentally livestreaming. the voice being someone who donated. well, gotta get paid someway. you turned the phone back on the action, watching as donors flooded the chat, saying how sexy johnny looked when he was fighting and the whole nine yards.

“chat thinks you’re so cool right now. don’t disappoint!”

and how could he? with a swift uppercut, kenshi called it quits for the first round while he regained his balance and strength. 

“you’re not done yet johnathan carlton!” you call. he runs over as you take a gatorade bottle and squeeze the contents into his mouth and a little bit on your hands before smacking the shit out of him. “you get out there and you finish it!” he nods without a word before bumping your fist. when he turns to get back in the ring, you deliver a swift slap to his ass for encouragement.

“does that actually help?” raiden comments. he wouldn’t lie, he was tickled by the nonchalant relationship you and Johnny exhibited.

“nah. he just has a really nice ass.” you say, body language unwavering.

it definitely wasn’t helping. he was getting his shit handed to him this round. so much so, he tagged you in.

“whyyyyy am I here! i’m so quitting after this!” you scream as you block many of kenshi’s attacks. johnny, who claims he is just taking a breather, now acted as cameraman as he and the chat giggled at your attempts to evade kenshi.

lui kang had a smirk on his face as he watched the growing potential in you. Despite your obvious fear, you were evading kenshi’s offensive moves quite diligently. He eventually spoke with the goal to guide you.

“compose yourself, y/n. you’re bouncing all over the place, use that momentum for something else.”

you were desperately running out of air from running around the ring, but you couldn’t let up or else kenshi would deploy his frustrations about johnny on you (mmmmm). despite your fear, you heard lui kang’s voice and man, does this god have a voice of reason. you had to obey. so you placed your trust in it and stopped before quickly ducking.

 In doing so, you felt a gust of wind fly over your head, surely a devastating blow from kenshi. you then turned and blindly threw a punch. surprisingly, you made contact, square in the middle of his chest. he gasped for air as the assault caused it all to exit his lungs and drop to his knees. he looked up at you with a fire burning in his eyes. you did not wait to continue and tagged johnny back in.

“now who’s the kangaroo?” lui kang smiled.

“you must think you’re so funny.” you respond, completely stale-faced.

johnny ended up losing the second round, before recovering and winning the final round. quickly though, he was thrust into battle with kung lao where he lost. 

“a brawl between old pals,” you start. “how you feeling kung fu panda?” you put the camera directly up to his eyebrows on a 0.5x setting, getting an insane shot of his forehead.

“first, you’re no better than johnny,” you gasp. “second, i’m feeling really confident.” he finishes. 

“and you ray ray?” you proceed to give him the same media coverage.

“i’ve been waiting for this day for a while.”

“oh he’s so gonna beat your ass”

and you should’ve bet money on it too as raiden came out victorious. 

“so these outworlders, they hot? mutated? what exactly should we be expecting God-Almighty?” johnny asks but not without you delivering a swift elbow to his side for his crudeness. 

“outworlders do have an enhanced strength compared to humans. some also have powers like me.” lui kang demonstrated with his possession of fire.

“so what’s raiden got that can go up against people like you.” kenshi spoke up, finally seeming over the bitterness of his loss earlier. 

“i am always prepared. raiden, i bestow upon you the element of lightning. i ensure that it will aid you tenaciously. i am certain earthrealm will remain in good hands with you.” He hands the amulet over and raiden immediately demonstrated his new abilities by electrocuting the shit out of some training dummies. 

“ok one, he just literally roasted the fuck outta y’all and two, can he charge my phone with this new ability.” 

“can you be serious for one moment?” kenshi grumbled.

“oh im sorry, i thought someone who’s ass i kicked earlier had something to say?” you retort.

he was ready to respond again, but lui kang redirected the conversation.

“it is time. we must depart. outworld is expecting us.” he begins to move his hands in the same circular motion as before and another portal beings to open up.

“y/n! y/n! Look!” johnny points as if he was kid asking his parent capture his performance.

“i got it johnny, damn! it’s not like this isn’t my whole ass job.” you roll you eyes as you break your slowly dying phone out again. before entering the portal, lui kang turned to you,

“i trust that you won’t be getting yourself in trouble?” he raised an eyebrow, his playful demeanor replaced with a serious one.

“don’t worry kangaroo, i’ll be doing the PR work for both johnny and i. count on me to clean up any mess these boys make. it’s all in the job description.”

his face screwed up in thought before he nodded.

“Let us show these outworlders what we are made of.” he led first through the portal.

-end-

I will update as much as I can but just know I am a college student with other commitments. bear with me!