#thread: tied up in pretty young things;

[astrummorte-m]

TIED UP IN PRETTY YOUNG THINGS.

self rp, non canon.

"For what it's worth from a stranger, you don't seem the kind of person to wear a frown for long." comes the haunting refrain of a voice following the click of heavy boot heels against the all too normal cafe's wooden boards. hands rest behind his formal suit, finery hidden by an old and well loved coat, as rugged in its own complexion as he was in his own. "Munni for your thoughts, young man?"

[everythingseasoning]

love, forever?

vampire! Suguru Geto x reader x vampire! Satoru Gojo

Tags: Morality, and selfishness vs selflessness themes. // Vampire! Suguru and Satoru, who are vampire hunters that protect humans from evil ones. // Blooming rivalry between Satoru & reader for Suguru’s attention. // AU characters. Satoru is clingier and more emotional than his canon self. Suguru despises the strong (vampires) for hurting the weak (humans). // New vampire lore ;). // Angst. Suguru battling his inner demons, trying to do good despite his vampire nature and urges. // Reader has multiple targets on her back (Naoya appearance!) // Both Suguru and Satoru fall for reader. // Eventual smut in later chapters. //

Chapter Warnings: College party drinking, Reader slaps Satoru, Mentions of blood and feeding, Reader falls in a ditch (LOL), Suggestiveness, MDNI

Chapter Word Count: ~4.3k (it’s worth it!)

NOTE: even if you you saw the teaser already, or any edit of the teaser, please read this chapter, as I’ve edited it a lot, and added in more juicy dialogue & scenes ;)

Ch. 01 | Living Haunted

The drink is nothing short of young and dumb, the blend of tooth-rottingly sweet flavors hitting your taste buds as you stare holes into Suguru’s back. You can see the sculpture of his muscles and beautiful bones through his tight tee, your ex’s sculpted body turned away from you. He’s speaking to a girl you had heard about— the life of all parties, pretty, smart, and fun. You could see that she might be his type. Green jealousy explodes in your chest, along with a poisonous, deep sense of insecurity. The horrible feelings move through your body. Was he moving on already? Did you really mean so little to him? Would she be the one to make him stay?

You take another swig from the plastic blue cup, hoping the painful twisting motion of your heart would be soon dulled. Coca Cola, sherbet, and yakult alcohol would be your poison of the night, you think, swallowing down the concoction as tears prick your eyes. 

“Another one of those people who drinks their troubles away?” 

The voice amidst the bass and booming music causes you to turn, your eyes meeting striking blue ones. Snowy hair rests soft and thick on his head, your heart skipping a beat when you see such a beautiful stranger. 

If you were being honest, you weren’t in the mood to talk to somebody else— not when your heart was still tied right onto Suguru’s. You love Suguru, you really do. The recent past haunts your every waking moment. And even in your dreams, he’s there, chuckling as you braid his hair, the nonfiction book he’s been reading facedown in his lap as your fingers thread his silky locks; He’s watching you with a fond smile as you run ahead of him in the campus garden, jumping amongst the flowers; The warmth and sturdiness of his hands against your face as the two of you kiss— his soft, supple lips meeting yours in that familiar dance and tangle. In your dreams he’s still yours. You both made up. In your dreams, things are warm and right. 

When you wake up in an empty bed, with an aching heart, it just feels cruel. The light slipped away again. You thought you had it. You had your dream come true only to realize it was just that— a fleeting dream. There’s no respite from the memory of all his adoration, thoughtful gestures, all the times you’d stare mesmerized as he sat focused, his eyebrows pinched as he worked… The way he felt when you were wrapped in his embrace, your face buried in his sturdy chest— that feeling of being cared for— 

You missed him bad, with every fiber of your being. 

Suguru is still all you can think about. You’re at this damned college party because, even a month after he’d broken up with you, all you wanted was to be close to him, to see him. It’s pathetic. Knowing he’d be here, knowing you’d be tearing your heart open again, the wound freshly cut back open— and you still came here. How many times had you stalked his social media despite having been removed from his following? 

“Cat got your tongue?” The beautiful stranger breaks you out of your thoughts, forcing a reply. 

“No—” you start to say, raising your voice. It’s just barely audible over the clamor of the party. 

“Really?” He butts in, raising an eyebrow. “‘Cause it seems like there’s some hard evidence against your statement.” His small smile is as unconventional as it is disarming. 

“And you are?” 

“Satoru Gojo, if you haven’t heard about me already. I go here, don’t you know?”

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “And why would I know of you?” 

Satoru just tilts his head ever so slightly, his smile unwavering as he replies, “Your head is under a rock, is what I heard you say.”

Confusion flits across your face before your mouth falls open slightly, a feigned look of offense stretched on your features. You feel like ignoring this pesky person. You glance away for a second, in search of Suguru’s back— the spot he’d been standing in holds a different person, somebody you don’t know, somebody you’re not at all interested in. You frown, scanning the crowd.

Satoru waves a hand in front of your face. You look up at him, annoyed.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“What? Need a reason to talk to a pretty girl?” 

“That’s an overused line,” You shout back, the music so loud you can barely hear yourself. Your attention shifts away from the snowy haired man back to the sea of party goers. You desperately search the throng of buzzing chaos. No sign of Suguru. Just dancing, mingling, kissing, drinking, the typical activities going on under the strobe lights. Fuck.

Suguru, where did you go? Please… Your heart feels like it’s a rock in your stomach. Please don’t tell me you’re fucking her right now in somebody’s bedroom. It’s not my business— but I can’t stand the thought of it—

Satoru chuckles, and you look back at him, unable to hide your expression of pain. You’re about to excuse yourself to find a bathroom to cry in, when he speaks again.

“You’re right. How should I flirt, hm? Wanna coach me? It’ll lift your blues, too,” His smirk would’ve had you folding had you not ever met Suguru. But you did cross paths with the raven-haired man— collided and intertwined, more like— and now nobody compares to him. Nobody would ever be him. 

“Not really. Excuse me,” you begin to say, before turning slightly, about to slip away—

“Suguru is my best friend,” he says. 

You freeze, whipping around now to face Satoru.

“He told me about you— first time he ever told me about anyone, actually. Suguru said you were somebody he actually loved.” Satoru’s cheeky expression has been wiped off, replaced with one of aloof nonchalance and detachment. It’s almost eerie, but your focus isn’t on that.

You’re at a loss for words, eyes caught on Satoru’s, hanging onto everything he says like maybe, just maybe, it means that Suguru wants you back.

“He’s had his fair share of flings and hookups, after all.” Satoru teases, smirking again, bending down to your level.

“I thought I was losing my best friend to a weakling.” His breath is surprisingly chilly against your face. “Turns out you were never the one. Sucks that you couldn’t make him stay.” You feel everything shatter. “Sucks for you, I mean,” Satoru finishes. He leaves out the part where he gloats about being the one Suguru has always admired, and stuck with. 

You’re shocked, mouth hanging open. You’re hurt. You’re aching in confusion about what wasn’t good enough about you. You’re angry and betrayed— all the feelings clash like giant waves crashing against one another inside your heart. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

Satoru grins, shrugging. “It means what it means. But I’m curious,” he says, leaning closer, his pearly teeth glinting red under the strobe lights, “What is it about you that had Suguru caught up on ya?” His lips graze your cheek, his voice in your ear, “I don’t get it.”

You slap him before you can realize what you’re doing. Violence is not the answer, but this time, it sure as hell felt like it. Your fingers sting, your panicked thoughts a running train. Did I just? Oh my god! I didn’t— I fucking did—

“I— I’m sorry—” you stammer quickly, eyes wide in shock at your own actions. Satoru is eerily emotionless, staring down at you with those startling ocean eyes. You shiver despite the heat of the stuffy, overcrowded room. 

“Hm.” 

It’s all he says. You open your mouth to speak again, blinking— 

And he’s gone. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A swig of the liquor causes the liquid to slosh in the green bottle. 

“Thought you liked shy girls, Suguru?” Satoru pokes, a red handprint on his cheek. He’s kicked back on the couch outside the bathroom, grimacing when the alcohol hits his tongue. He’s spitting it out back into the bottle immediately. 

“I do,” Suguru replies calmly, a streak of lovely bare skin showing amidst the shaving cream on his face. He runs the razor back down, taking off more of the fluffy white foam. 

“Yeesh. Can’t believe we used to drink this shit,” Satoru sticks his tongue on dramatically, tossing the full glass of alcohol across the room. It lands right in the trash bin with a clang. “That’s where it belongs,” he huffs. 

“So?” Satoru prompts, kicking his feet up. “You realize she doesn’t fit your ideal type, right? Why’d you get with her for a whole year, then?”

“She was shy at first,” Suguru says softly, a glint of something like pain in his eyes. He catches Satoru’s gaze on him in the mirror and the glint disappears. Satoru notices, but says nothing, now peeling open a candy from its foil wrapper. 

“And I told you already, Satoru,” Suguru continues, sparing his friend an exasperated glance. “I love—d her.” A blip. A mistake so quickly covered that if it was anyone but Satoru, they’d have missed it.

Blue eyes pierce Suguru. 

“But it wasn’t going to work out. Love isn’t meant for us. You and I… We’re not meant to be with humans,” Suguru murmurs, looking at his face in the mirror. It was myth that vampires didn’t have reflections. They do. But there’s something the myths forgot. Some sort of change is written in a vampire’s eyes. There always has been, and always will be, some sort of difference from a person’s antecedent human form, and their new, evolved one, hidden in their eyes after they turn. Suguru touches his eyebags, dark and heavy. 

That’s not what changed. No. His warm, earthy brown eyes had turned purple the night Satoru turned him. He woke up with them, the day after everything changed. 

Suguru’s tired reflection stares back at him, rich amethyst irises shining like glossy, sharp stars in the mirror. He wishes he didn’t recognize them. Now he’s stuck dealing with people commenting on his “cool contacts,” for the rest of eternity. Suguru exhales deeply, softly, his still, dead heart aching.

“Being undead with a vital thirst for human blood will do that,” Satoru ho-hums, blissfully unaware of the insensitive nature of his obliviousness. 

Suguru is silent, continuing to shave. He grimaces at the knowing that his vampire instincts made him crave you dangerously, the one he loves, more than anything else. It was cursed, his very existence. He was turned into a walking, sentient, functioning monster. The blade knicks his skin. He curses quietly.

“So,” Satoru grunts with chocolate melting on his tongue, grateful that at least his cravings and delight in sweets didn’t change when they turned, “You don’t trust yourself to be around her without hurting her. But you were doing well for a year. What do you say changed?”

Suguru dabs at the blood dripping down his otherwise unmarked face. It would heal, his skin would be perfectly smooth again in a day, not a trace of his mistake, or scar, would remain. All wounds heal within 24 hours for vampires. It’s something Suguru was grateful for, considering his job of being a vampire slayer. 

“My urges got insatiable. Blood bags weren’t enough,” Suguru says curtly. Despite the battle of breaking up with you being long over, Suguru’s mind is a war zone. I couldn’t even look at her… without… needing to taste her blood. His fists clench on the marble sink. It got bad. I almost hurt her.

Satoru stares at his best friend, knowing that in this silence, his mind is a maelstrom. Suguru sees Satoru’s unflinching gaze, but remains quiet. He knows his friend won’t understand. 

But Satoru presses on anyway, nodding, looking bored. 

“Right. You can’t suppress your urges right now. That happened to me too. The second year is the hardest.” Satoru was the one who turned Suguru, after all, on that unwelcomed, fateful night. “It helps when you just feed on multiple pretty girls a night and compel them all to forget— You could’ve had both, you know. Her and human blood from others. You’re so mopey now.” Satoru’s callous remark piques Suguru’s irritation, a flame of anger burning in the raven-haired man’s chest.

“I won’t do that and be in a relationship.” 

“I saw you feeding on that random chick an hour ago. If you and I didn’t always ask for consent before feeding, I’d never have believed she would be okay with that,” Satoru’s eyes gleam playfully. Suguru doesn’t reply, and Satoru deflates. 

“You’re still grumpy. You move around like you’re actually dead, Suguru. You torture yourself by still caring about your ex. She’s nothing special. I don’t get it.” 

Ah. The truth comes out. Suguru’s eyebrows knit, his mouth pressed into a firm line as something dark flickers in his eyes. 

“Satoru, she has a name, and she’s worth something even if you can’t see it. Just shut up.”

“And what worth do you see in her?”

Suguru is silent for a moment. How could he convey the light and warmth that you were in his life? He’d died twice, once literally, once figuratively, and yet— you brought him back. “…She’s… good.”

“And?”

Suguru’s temper flares. “You just don’t get it, so will you just leave it?” He snarls, fangs involuntarily popping out. He curses silently in disgust at what he has become. 

“You’re such a grouch nowadays,” Satoru huffs, before popping another chocolate into his mouth. He gets up, stretching. 

“Well. I need to feed again.” 

“Be safe about it. And I’m not referring to your safety,” Suguru says sternly, his whole head turned to look at Satoru now, some white foam still on the man’s face. 

“Yeah, yeah, mom, I got it.” With that, Satoru pulls his black coat over his lean, muscled body, a wolfish grin on his face as he slips out the apartment door. Did he need the black coat? No. Not at all. Vampires don’t get cold. They’re already icy to the touch. But it helps him blend in, both with humans and the night. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You’re intoxicated. It’s two AM and you’re stumbling around campus like a fucking idiot. 

Well how about that? Satoru spies you from across the quad, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. 

He slips through the shadows. 

You nearly jump when a tall, dark figure appears before you, looming over you. 

Snowy hair shines in the lamplight, blue eyes flashing like glaciers, staring right at you. You swear they flash red for a second.

“You again?” You slur your words. You aren’t scared. He’s Suguru’s best friend, which means he by extension must be a good guy. Almost as if he hears your thoughts, Satoru grins. His teeth are brilliant, his canines shining ivory and glistening like expensive accessory jewels.

If Satoru was being honest, this was a chance to understand the enemy. The golden goal would be to get Suguru to forget about you and move on, so his best friend could finally look and be alive again, the two of them happily slaying the vampires that hurt humans— and this was the first step in his plan. 

“Hey,” he nearly purrs, slinking around you as you take a step forward— stumbling a bit— 

Cold fingers grip you firmly, holding you upright. Satoru: 1, gravity: 0. 

“You’re fucking making me freeze even more!” You retort, snapping at him as you yank your warm arm away from his cool grasp. You were more than tipsy, but you recalled his rudeness from earlier.

He lets you go and you teeter. “Just trying to help. You sure aren’t shy, huh?” Satoru remarks.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You spit out, the question giving you both Deja vu.

“It means what it means,” Satoru grins. Deja-fucking-vu. You’re getting fed up now, huffing and mumbling under your alcohol-tinged breath, an insult that Satoru’s super hearing picks up on. He stifles a laugh. You keep walking. 

“Wait,” Satoru calls out. You don’t turn around or slow your snail-like pace. He strides up to you in two quick, lengthy steps. He bends, entering your vision, his teeth sharp and protruding from his close lipped smile. Were they always that long?

“I’m great at reading people. And as much as you want to deny it, your heart is beating faster around me.” He suppresses his urge to poke your ribcage, directly over the beating muscle. 

“Shut up,” you growl. 

“You could make me, you know.”

“There you go again with that cliche flirting,” you snort. 

“And here I am again, asking if you’re offering lessons. Though the better question would be if you’re even qualified to give them,” Satoru grins.

He keeps up with your sluggish pace as you try to make your way back to the dorms.

“What do you want from me? Don’t you think it’s weird to be flirting with your best friend’s ex?” 

You think this will shut him up. That, or he’ll have a lame excuse. But for the first time in this second conversation you’re having with him, his answer changes.

“If I’m being honest,” he speaks in a rich, velvety, low voice, and you almost feel entranced, your feet stopping, your gaze resting on Satoru. “I’m doing this for him. And about what I want?” 

You sway in the chilly night breeze, barely registering anything but the sound of his voice. 

“I want to know you better,” he purrs. You’re breathless as he continues, his voice like a siren in your ear, “If you were sober, would you let me bite you?”

He pulls away, and you’re back to your senses in a second. You feel like slapping him again. You almost do, but your hand misses, causing you to stumble. 

“Too slow!” He cackles as you tumble onto the ground, your dress flying up.

You look absolutely humiliated, livid, and harmless from the ground, eyes narrowed in deep hatred for this weirdo. 

“Need a hand?” Satoru smirks, his tall, silhouetted form outlined in light from the lamp behind him. 

You push off the cold cement, ignoring him, fuming silently as you continue your drunken walk to the dorms. That typical pang of hunger hits Satoru out of the blue, impelling him to leave.

“I have to go now. See you around,” Satoru says, before disappearing, the need to find a sober person he can get consent from to feed on overpowering him. 

Suddenly the night is quiet again, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the wind. You keep walking, not realizing that there are no longer lamps to light the way until you’re surrounded by darkness. You aren’t familiar with this part of campus, squinting to see the road sign to your right. You barely make out the words ‘Under Construction’ written in bold black letters, and you shiver as the cool breeze swings through the area. A snapping twig sounds behind you and your eyes widen, fear running through your intoxicated bloodstream. 

“Hello?” You call out. You hate to admit it, but you regret letting Satoru leave. Nobody answers.

You take another step into the darkness, speeding up your pace. Another snap of a twig, and you’re breaking out into a full blown run now— blood rushes through your ears—

Something catches your foot, and you tumble forward, falling down into a ditch, knocking out.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Satoru sighs contentedly, his eyes crossing as he swallows his last gulp of blood for the night. The woman is staring at the ceiling with a lovestruck look, the pleasure from the toxin in his fangs acting like a drug. He releases his lips from her skin, licking at the two puncture marks on her neck. 

“Fuck…” She mewls, leaning in to kiss Satoru. He lets her kiss him.

“Look at me,” Satoru commands gently, his voice taking on a different tone now— and she’s under his spell in an instant. 

“Forget this entire interaction. Forget that you ever saw me. Forget that I fed on you. Don’t question the slight tenderness in your neck tomorrow morning. Associate it with sleeping weirdly,” he murmurs, and she’s caught on his every word, nodding when he stops talking. 

“Good.”

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Satoru retraces his steps, walking on the road he last saw you on. His teeth have retracted, going back to a normal length, as they always do after he’s fed. Yeah, he may be selfish, jealous, and dislike you— but he’s not a villain. It’s late, you are intoxicated, and he still wants to make sure you’re okay. 

“She’s probably fast asleep back at her dorm. I’m just wasting my time,” he grumbles in the dark. But he just has this funny feeling, like something happened, and now he’s acting like some lovesick fool that worries and checks in on their lover. 

Blood. Satoru smells it, that familiar, rich, sharp scent that sends a rush of electricity through his body. Because he just fed, his brain doesn’t light up as it usually would, and he realizes that somebody is hurt— and that somebody is probably you. 

Satoru’s legs are a blur as he races towards the source—

He stands over a dirt edge, a hole in the path made by the ongoing construction. You lay in the ditch looking like a broken doll, effectively knocked out. There’s a gash on your arm and knee. 

“Fuck,” Satoru curses, quickly climbing down to get to you. He’s by your side in a flash, checking your pulse. It’s normal. He feels the tension in his body drain. You’re probably just passed out from the combination of alcohol and falling in a ditch. Satoru rolls his eyes, huffing, “Idiot,” as he scoops you up into his arms. 

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

He didn’t know what to do. Leave you in the hallway of the coed dorm? Drop you off at the 24/hour care station? He figured he should do the latter, and so he went. 

He dings the bell at the front desk, shifting to readjust your relaxed body. Ten seconds go by. During that time, Satoru finds himself staring at your face, a few smears of dirt on your skin. You breathe in and out, because you have to. It’s not like him and Suguru, who breathe to fake their normalness and blend in. They have no need for oxygen. Your lips look so soft. Your chest rising and falling gently, you look totally at peace, and Satoru is mesmerized. He gets lost in the rhythm of your breaths for a moment— the steady beat of your heart bringing about a peace and longing ache in his own lifeless one. He snaps out of his daze, and rings the bell again, huffing impatiently. Another ten seconds go by, and he starts to spam the bell. 

“Where are they?” He grumbles. Satoru slips behind the desk, frowning and pissy, looking into the back room. Nobody is there. 

“Seriously?” 

He can’t just leave you here when the door is unlocked and the place is unattended. Satoru curses under his breath again, looking down at your sleeping face, your body curled against his frame in his arms. 

“Guess Suguru has to confront his demons tonight,” Satoru sighs, not realizing the weight of the statement he’s just uttered.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Sweet, mouth-watering, the scent of a dream— it wafts through the hallway, into his room, and Suguru wakes up with a growling stomach. 

Human blood. One that smells absolutely ravishing. Suguru sits up, alert and awake, wondering if Satoru brought back somebody to share, somebody who wanted to be fed on and possibly fucked by the two of them. The raven-haired man stands up and tears open his door—

Satoru is hunched over a body on the couch. Suguru makes his way over, his fangs protruding, his amethyst eyes glinting with hunger—

Satoru finishes wiping the blood off your arm, the sight of the red cloth in his hand making Suguru freeze when he realizes Satoru brought back a hurt person.

“Satoru–” 

Satoru turns, standing up, and Suguru finally catches a glimpse of who is on their couch. If his heart was beating, it would have skipped a beat. 

Suguru’s eyes are wide, his mouth agape. You?

“Hey,” the snowy-haired vampire says. “Before you get pissed—!”

Suguru is crossing the living room in a flash, shoving Satoru up against the wall. Suguru’s head is ringing, swirling with hunger, anger, fear, grief, and shame. Something as seemingly small as the sight of you did that to him. 

“Did you fucking hurt her? I swear to god, if you so much as touched a hair on her head—” Suguru hisses before Satoru shoves his best friend back, scowling.

“Listen for a second! She was in a ditch when I found her, okay? By the construction site. I may not like this little pest of a weakling, but I didn’t hurt her,” Satoru retorts. Suguru backs off, clenching his fists so hard that it draws red blood of his own. His eyes burn holes into the floorboards. 

Satoru watches, a beat of silence passing before he speaks up, “Hey, Suguru. Just… just take a moment to get a hold of yourself. If you have to take a walk…”

What Satoru didn’t understand was how absolutely feral Suguru was for you, down to a chemical level. Bringing you around was enough to make Suguru’s head pound with a dizzying need to feast on you— but bringing you when you were bleeding? Suguru is feeling white hot need pulse throughout his body.

“She— she’s not supposed to be here—” Suguru manages to say, his voice strained. 

“Why–”

“She can’t be by me!” Suguru roars, looking up from the ground to meet Satoru’s shocked gaze. Suguru’s purple eyes are filled with a storm of anger and pain, and Satoru opens his mouth to apologize—

But Suguru is gone in a blink, the door to their apartment creaking as yellow light from the hallway spills in, falling on your face, painting you in a soft glow. 

Feedback of Your Thoughts, Comments, and Reblogs, are highly appreciated and honestly do help me write faster :)

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[nyerus]

The Narrative Importantance of Hualian's Sexual Intimacy

This is a repost and minor edit of a thread I made on Twitter yesterday. This is a topic I have always wanted to talk about because of how often it comes up in TGCF fandom, time and time again.

‼️CW: mentions of sexual assault, self-harm, bodily injury‼️

⚠️Major spoilers for the entire novel ahead⚠️

---

Saw a question the other day on what relevance Hualian being sexually intimate by the end of the novel had to either the narrative or Xie Lian's character arc.

In short: it bears significant relevance, especially in context of other themes the novel explores like bodily autonomy.

Throughout the novel, we see time and time again that Xie Lian is often dehumanized by pretty much everyone—including himself—with the sole exception of Hua Cheng. I've talked more in depth about it in an old twt thread, for those interested. @/stalliondany on twt has also made an excellent recent analysis that goes deeper into the specific ways Xie Lian was used as a physical shield, martyr, or scapegoat for others without thought to his humanity or suffering. I highly recommend reading it first!

But to sum it all up: it's important to Xie Lian's character arc to keep in mind that he is used to seeing his own body as a tool to solve problems. And in crucial narrative moments, he is robbed of his bodily autonomy, and either brutalized or violated in service of others.

One of the plot points that ties together all these concepts is actually... Xie Lian's chastity vows. That will be the main focus of this post.

When he was a young teen (or possibly as a child), Xie Lian took an oath of chastity because such was the norm for cultivators seeking ascension in Xian Le. To Xie Lian, even as he grew older, he never had an issue with this because he just never felt sexual attraction to another person, or any desire to be intimate in that way. Even if he yearned for the concept of being loved. And indeed, at first glance, his chastity vows may seem like nothing more than a side note. Or even a funny gag when it comes to Hua Cheng (later).

In reality Xie Lian's chastity vows are not only used against him, but paint a very disturbing picture with regards to his repeated violation.

The Land of the Tender scene is the most obvious example of this. Xie Lian's vows are directly tied to his spiritual powers, and because it affects how his followers see him. They place a high value on his chastity as being vital to his moral character.

For reference, an excerpt from TGCF vol. 3 of the English print translation, page 135:

Xie Lian's method of cultivation required a pure body. Those who worshipped the ascended cultivators who practiced this path were firmly convinced of the transcendence of gods untouched by earthly desires. If they couldn't protect their purity, their following would no doubt collapse and their powers would be devastated. It wouldn't be as serious as plunging from godhood to back to mortality, and there was still the possibility of recovery after many more years of cultivation—but with things as they were now, there was no time for him to sit behind closed doors and cultivate for years!

As a reminder: it is Bai Wuxiang who orchestrated this whole thing. Him trying to compromise Xie Lian in this way is horrific on many levels, yet that's not the main point I want to make here. It's that to preserve his "pure body," the solution Xie Lian realizes is to severely harm himself. To impale himself with his sword through the abdomen.

The juxtaposition of having to maintain bodily purity versus the gruesome violence inflicted on his body is extremely stark.

This grim contrast is no more evident than in the 100 swords scene. Where Xie Lian's body is literally brutalized and defiled to an unthinkable degree. To the point where he, quote: "no longer looked human." Yet he emerges from that temple physically "pure" all the same. His chastity vows were not broken, his body healed without scars. As though he was untouched.... And yet, he was completely destroyed mentally. It left permanent effects on him as a person. It's even worse when the scene is read analogous to sexual assault, as many have talked about before. I think that interpretation actually hits the nail on the head, especially keeping in mind the Land of the Tender scene and all the similarities between them.

Following the 100 swords scene, Xie Lian of course has a complete disconnect between himself and his body. I believe this is part of why he doesn't really feel pain, except when he is with Hua Cheng, who treats him and his body as one. As a person who is cherished, and loved. Hua Cheng is adamant in his adoring treatment of Xie Lian. Small injuries are also something he cannot tolerate because he knows what horrors befell Xie Lian in the past. (He was present at both the terrible moments mentioned above.) He will not let any of that continue, regardless of what Xie Lian says, because he sees it as injustice.

Xie Lian is willing to use himself as a tool to help others no matter the personal cost. He even thinks of it as something he must do, or that he deserves as penance. But Hua Cheng is the one person who asks "what about you?" He's the one that insists "your happiness matters." And it is Hua Cheng that takes issue with Xie Lian's chastity vows as being unfair, unlike everyone else. Regardless of Hua Cheng's reasons for this diegetically, symbolically it means a lot that he is the one opposed to this.

Just thinking about the chastity vows on their own for a moment: Xie Lian can indulge a little bit in stuff like alcohol, which isn't great to begin with for him. But he absolutely cannot engage in "pleasures of the flesh." He can totally have his flesh ripped from his bones, literally, but actually experiencing any kind of sexual gratification? Now that would make him unclean, and lesser.... Why? Because unlike everything else, that's something Xie Lian would do simply for himself to feel good. And what greater crime is there than to ever dare put himself first?

So Hua Cheng—being the one person who puts Xie Lian first above all else—thinking that such a restriction doesn't make sense is important. Hua Cheng being the person who Xie Lian breaks those vows for in the end is important! (Especially because it seems to have been an easy choice for him.)

And of course, the scene with Jun Wu and the Virginity Detector Sword™ has to be mentioned. Again, there's symbolism to be had! The perpetrator of two of the most physically violating moments of Xie Lian's life (both of which were sexual in nature; one literally and one allegorically) being the one to "check" Xie Lian's virginity... oof. Yikes. It's dramatic irony. It's deeply uncomfortable. Especially because Jun Wu probably wanted to know if Xie Lian slept with Hua Cheng, as he already knew Xie Lian wasn't the ghost fetus' father.

So it's once again a stark juxtaposition: of Ghost King Hua Cheng disagreeing with the purity vows, wanting Xie Lian to break them for himself and his own freedom. Versus Heavenly Emperor Jun Wu wanting to weaponize those vows against Xie Lian in whatever way he can, intact or not, to keep control over him.

Naturally, there's something to be said for the real-world problem with such purity vows being used against people, to judge their moral character, societal expectations, etc. Elephant in the room. It's very on the nose, so there isn't even much to say about it that hasn't been said already.

In the end, it comes down to how horrible it is that when Xie Lian tries to help others, it results in immense harm to his body every time. Yet he is expected to continue to bear it, for centuries, by others and also himself. Until he meets Hua Cheng, who helps him rediscover what it means to be happy, and to be loved. So yes, it's absolutely relevant that in the end, Xie Lian decides to break his purity vows to be intimate with Hua Cheng. That he's able to put himself in Hua Cheng's hands, and let himself be treated with affection and desire. It's Xie Lian finally forgiving himself, and beginning to heal.

[eamour]

unfavourable concepts.

i've been meaning to address this for some time now. with social media becoming a platform with such a large number of people talking about different concepts in love, work, health and so on, there are concepts which i think need to be discussed, especially as they affect so many of us.

before we start, celest1albeing on twitter inspired me to write this post! make sure to check out their thread on there as well.

disclaimer.

these are concepts that don’t serve me personally. i don’t expect you to stop believing these concepts or make them apply to you and the world if you have no problems with them. if you can resonate and identify with these, that’s perfectly fine.

concepts of love.

information · these are all only examples which i seem to encounter frequently and which seem to be common.

young men cannot commit · men only treat pretty women with respect · all male friends of women just wanna hit · if he wanted to he would · they categorise you into sweet, sexy and pretty · he doesn’t love you if he does this · men always cheat and lie · they all only want one thing · they only like ass or tits · all men are the same · you can't change his type · you aren't his dream girl · men love quiet women · if a man doesn’t pay he isn't the one

you are just an option · once you are married your partner will become less romantic · after 3 months their true colours will show (honeymoon phase) · true love doesn’t exist · after the talking stage you either get into a situationship or go no contact · getting into a relationship is hard ·

women can’t be friends with men · women are complicated · they only want your money and wouldn’t want to date men who earn little · there is always another woman · they always look for someone better · you have to work on your divine feminine energy · you need to get out of your masculine energy · a woman needs to know her place

concepts of work.

money doesn’t grow on trees · it’s hard to get money · you have to work hard in order to afford your lifestyle · only if you do the work you can get a promotion · you could never be a ceo · you need to be privileged and born into richness for this position · this generation is lazy · no one wants to work · they are all going to end up jobless and poor · nowadays we are only evolving backwards

concepts of school.

you need to learn in order to get good grades · you cannot be smart without putting in the effort · teachers always have their favourite students · it's almost impossible to get good grades by teachers who can't stand you

concepts of health.

pasta makes you gain weight · you need to eat xyz and you cannot eat zyx · junk food is unhealthy · you need to workout in order to be fit · you can only lose weight by eating less · good skin requires an expensive skin care routine · t's hard to treat acne · you cannot get rid of scars on your face

self sabotage.

all in all, it all comes down to one thing: but is this what you want to believe in? do these beliefs serve you in any way? can you continue believing in them without worsening life for yourself? see, i am not the one shoving these concepts down your throat and expecting you to tweet "men ain’t shit". it’s all up to you if you want to claim these concepts as your truth or not. but if you keep believing in any undesirable concept that you KNOW does not help you in any way, you are only self sabotaging yourself IF you know that you can change these beliefs of yours.

evaluation.

the reason why i made this post is to emphasise that you can CHOOSE to believe in these concepts or not. you aren't tied to them. you don't depend on them. and you don't need to follow these concepts either.

i know we live in a society where even if you don’t initially believe that men suck or that you will get cheated on one way or another, we are still influenced by the experiences of others and may end up experiencing these things regardless. but you don’t have to!!! just because jessica had a man promise her the world and left her with nothing it doesn’t mean that it’s gonna happen to you as well. you are NOT her, you aren’t — and you don’t have to be — ANY of these people telling you about how awful people are, how sickening it is to date in this decade, etc. you don’t have to believe ANY of these things, in fact, you can change these concepts and the people around you.

in conclusion, you are your own person with your own individual beliefs. however, you have the CHOICE. no one's forcing you to believe any of these concepts, nor do they hold a universal truth to them. they come from the same awareness that can state the exact opposite.

with love, ella.

[propertyofkylar]

princess kylar thigh worship fic?

worshiping the princess - f!kylar x gn!pc

word count: 1827

tags: royalty au, thigh worship, cunnilingus, dubcon, bit of yandere nonsense, i cannot help but tease kylar whenever i see her it's a disease

“Seize them.”

That was the first and last thing you had heard the princess say, and now you were jailed in her castle. You were sure you hadn’t been behind bars too long, but it was nearly impossible to tell. It didn’t help that you were entirely alone here, too. It seemed this princess didn’t frequently imprison anyone. So why you?

In your travels, you had become somewhat familiar with this kingdom. Princess Kylar was the ruler, and there were many rumors floating around about what had happened to the king and queen, most seeming very unlikely to be true. But you weren’t sure. Anything was possible. 

You were mulling this over when the princess herself approached the bars. At first, she said nothing, merely looked at you. You figured you may as well look back, and so you studied Kylar. 

She was a pretty young woman and very small. She wore a dark gown that looked old and tattered and her long hair was tied back with a bow that was equally tattered. The princess’s face was so close to yours that you could count every freckle on her nose. Her green eyes bore into yours and her long eyelashes fluttered with every blink. 

Eventually, she gave a simple nod. And then, surprisingly, she unlocked her cell. 

Before you could react, her small hand wrapped around your wrist. It was soft and clammy. Feeling bewildered, you looked at her again. Kylar huffed. 

“Would you rather be locked in there forever?” She said, starting to walk and tugging you along with her. 

“Um…no,” you said, rather lamely. To be honest, you weren’t sure what you had done to justify being locked up in the first place. But this princess seemed temperamental, so you figured you better not risk anything by speaking out of line. 

“That’s what I thought,” she muttered, and you got the feeling that despite her demeanor, this entire interaction was making her quite nervous.

You opted to stay quiet as she led you through the large castle, which was rather empty and everything seemed to be covered in a thick layer of dust. Aside from the odd servant here and there, there didn’t seem to be anyone else in here. 

Kylar took you into what you realized were her quarters. Having never been inside the bedroom of royalty before, you were taken aback by how messy and disorganized it was. You had always pictured a princess’s bedroom to be neat and clean. But Kylar had random bits of clothing tossed all over and drawers that were slightly ajar. There were also various novels scattered about, and you idly recognized some as being steamy romances. Interesting. That didn’t seem befitting of royalty. 

The princess closed her door behind the two you of you and the air became thick with awkward tension. What the hell was going on here? You were so caught up in how odd this entire castle was that you only just now realized - what the fuck were you doing in the princess’s bedroom?!

Kylar uncomfortably cleared her throat, picking at a loose thread on her sleeve. “So,” she began. “You’re probably wondering what you’re doing here instead of being locked up.”

“Well, yes,” you replied hesitantly. 

Forcing her head up, Kylar looked directly in your eyes. “I have decided you seem useful. You have a handsome face. I think there are better ways for you to serve out your sentence.”

You said nothing, letting her continue. Kylar sucked in a deep breath before saying more. 

“You will stand by my side and assist me in…whatever ways I need,” Kylar’s face flushed as she spoke, and you quickly realized what exactly she mean. 

“What?” You couldn’t help but let your shock slip out. Was this princess really suggesting you be like some…some sort of prostitute?

Kylar clenched her fists and looked away. “You don’t have to. But if you decline I will make it known that you have committed many grievous crimes and should be locked away permanently. Or maybe you would rather be executed?”

Your blood ran cold at that. Was she serious? You didn’t know much about her, but she did seem a little scary. She might really be willing to kill you…

“No,” you said quietly, clearing your throat. “No, I don’t want that.”

“Good,” Kylar replied with a smirk. “Then you should kneel.”

You immediately dropped to your knees in front of the haughty princess. She wasn’t very tall, but looking up at her still invoked fear within you. She was quite intimidating.

“Excellent. You’re a good listener,” Kylar was acting tough, but her voice was shaking a little still. She moved over to her bed and sat down on the edge. You quickly realized she wanted you to follow her and so you awkwardly crawled over. Several beats passed before she hiked up her skirt, revealing her bare thighs and a thick bush of hair. Her face turned red as she struggled to remain composed. 

“Touch me.”

Her words, while unsteady, were commanding. You weren’t sure why she was making you do this, or how the hell you ended up kneeling before a now half-naked princess. But her thighs were rather mesmerizing. They were thick and even-toned, and looked very soft. And having lived the life of a bandit, you were aware there were many worse experiences out there than being forced to pleasure a beautiful princess.

So, tentatively, you reached your hands out to grip her thighs. Kylar whimpered as soon as there was skin-on-skin contact. Your initial thoughts were correct - her skin was incredibly soft and smooth. Befitting a princess, for sure. You began to lightly stroke her thighs, as gently as possible, and noticed how immediately her skin pricked with goosebumps. 

You looked up and made direct eye contact with Kylar. She was gazing at you almost adoringly, and you felt a sudden pang in her chest. She behaved somewhat oddly. Her castle was in disarray and empty. Princess Kylar must have been a very lonely girl. 

Sucking in a deep breath, you moved your head in and began to place light kisses on her thighs. Kylar twitched and her hands gripped her bedsheets. She cleared her throat and you looked up at her again. Her face was bright red.

“Worship me…” she whispered. “Please.”

You were in no position to reject a princess. Thus, your fingers went to work tracing random patterns across the smooth expanse of her thighs, while your kisses grew more fervent and occasionally you bit down, enjoying the way Kylar squeaked and squealed with every move. Honestly, it was pretty attractive, and you felt yourself begin to grow aroused. 

Kylar’s legs parted instinctively and the unmistakable scent of arousal hit your nose. Sure enough, when you looked you noticed her cunt was practically drooling onto the bed. You stifled a smirk - her getting so turned on by just some touching was pretty funny, but her volatile attitude kept you subdued in this regard. You still were a little afraid that she might decide to execute you, after all. 

Your teeth bit down into the plush skin of her inner thigh, and Kylar moaned. “Princess,” you breathed against her, casting your eyes up. She was looking away. 

“Y-you may speak,” Kylar stammered. You smiled.

“Your skin is so soft,” you murmured against her legs, pressing kisses all over. “It’s so nice. You must take very good care of yourself.”

“Oh,” Kylar replied, clearly not expecting you to say what you had just said. “Um. I don’t know. Not really. I took a bath in rosewater earlier, I guess.”

Mm. That’s what that smell was. “Very nice,” you said quietly, moved your head closer to her core, continuing to lick and suck all the way. Her whole body squirmed when your nose bumped her clit. Then, you pressed a kiss there, too.

“Oh!” Kylar unintentionally pulled back slightly, but quickly fixed herself. “S-sorry…I mean!” She cleared her throat, clearly flustered. “You m-may continue.”

Your hands teased and scratched her thighs as you began to lick at her wet cunt. The faint smell of roses tickled your nose and mingled with her own district flavor. As soon as your tongue made contact, Kylar’s hands flew to your hair, embedding her fingers in there. “Fuck,” she said quietly.

You lapped at her drooling juices before twisting your tongue into her hole, taking one hand off her thigh to rub at her clit. Kylar’s breaths were coming out in short, stuttered bursts at this point. She was enjoying this, and truthfully, so were you.

Your tongue explored inside of Kylar, as if you were trying to drink her juices directly from the source. You curled your tongue inside of her, and Kylar’s grip on your hair tightened. When you tugged your tongue out to flick her clit, she almost yelled.

“Feels so good,” she mumbled, wiggling back and forth as if she were trying to get more friction. “Your mouth feels so good…”

Again, you weren’t going to deny a princess what she wanted. So you dove in, licking her soaking folds even more fervently, taking the time to memorize how Kylar felt; how Kylar tasted. 

As you drank her up obediently, Kylar’s hips began to wiggle more and more and her breathing grew more heavy. “Oh–I think–I’m gonna–”

You didn’t stop. You simply kept at the same pace as Kylar ground her crotch against your face and moaned loudly. Her fluids soaked the sheets beneath her and your own face felt incredibly damp and sticky. 

As you pulled away, you licked your lips subconsciously, committing her taste to memory. You unceremoniously wiped your now-soaked face on your sleeve and looked up at Kylar again. Her face was redder than you had seen her and her chest was rising and falling heavily. She took a few moments before she began to speak again. “T-that was…it, um…” she cleared her throat. “Good work. I think this will work out…”

Unsure of what to do now, you simply offered her a smile. Upon seeing your face, Kylar suddenly looked like she might faint. It was like something had just snapped inside of her. She nodded several times in succession and then grabbed your wrists, pulling you up to the bed with her. And the way she looked at you was intense, to say the least. She had a crazy, lovesick look in her eyes, that sent a chill through your body. What had you just gotten yourself into?

Kylar grinned widely at you as she pushed you down so you were laying below her on the bed. She crawled over you with that same look in her eyes. “I knew I made the right choice when I saw you. Oh, this is great,” she giggled girlishly, laying her head down on your chest. “We’re going to be together forever and ever now!”

Maybe you should’ve stayed jailed…

[whalesforhands]

since dyf!mc has a staring problem, how much would she stare if she saw suguru with his hair down for the first time?

did u mean before or after she has a crush on him LOL. either way, her reaction is still the same

warnings: geto-centric post, ily geto and my apology for doing bad things to him

If Gojo Satoru was dazzlingly beautiful, Geto Suguru would be the definition of hypnotically captivating.

His narrowed, purple eyes that screamed mischief and trouble, his broad and toned form that boasted his strength. To simply his charming, affable demeanor. Anyone would be lucky to have him.

But your favourite part of him? The sheer beauty that encompassed him. His presence. The dark, mystifying beauty that shrouded him in mystery. An enigma that you want to slowly take apart piece of piece and just simply admire what he simply was.

And admire you will, for you were shamelessly looking at him right now.

Luscious, black locks that cascaded only slightly past his upper arms, smooth and slightly damp from the shower he just took.

Evidenced by the towel that hung low around his hips and his bare upper body.

You don’t think you can tear your eyes away from his head, despite the absolute feast for the eyes that was the rest of his body.

His hair. It’s gorgeous.

You’re gulping even as he tries to hurriedly tug his bathrobe on, back turned to you only to show off even more of his beautiful tresses that shined beneath the light of the bathroom, swaying with his movements as you are just entranced.

“I didn’t…” He coughs awkwardly as he ties the waist of his robe. “Hear you come in.”

You’re far too taken by his existence to think of anything else now. Your brain has been for too mesmerized.

“Suguru…” Your eyes are constantly acknowledging the way droplets of water are slowly sliding off the ends of his locks.

“Can I brush your hair?”

——

You’re seated upon the side of his bed, Suguru’s head resting on your knees, his back turned to you as you slowly comb through the smooth hair whilst he sat on the carpeted floor.

It’s stress relieving.

(And he’s too tall even when you’re both sitting down.)

“Suguru.” Your hand is threading itself inbetween his locks, gently massaging his scalp.

“You’re too pretty.”

You hear him let out a light chortle.

“Am I now?” You feel him shifting his body, front now facing you as his hands settle on your hips. Pulling you forward as he rests his cheek against one of your thighs.

You continue to brush through his hair with your fingers, satisfied with the silky smoothness of it. As you mindlessly let your mind wander.

“Shoko’s still prettier.”

You hear another handsome laugh again, and feel another nuzzle into your lap.

“My biggest competitor, it seems.”

You wordlessly continue to feel his head, tilting his head up to look at you, staring into his dark crevices.

You say nothing, simply smiling and reveling in his presence as you hold his face in your hands.

You feel happy.

“Yoooo!” Satoru bursts into the room, snacks in his hands as a waving Shoko trails after him.

“Unannounced sleepover time!” He plops down right next to you on the bed, causing Suguru’s head to bounce lightly as he rolls his eyes at his intruding partner.

Shoko is settling down onto Suguru’s pillow, laying down as she scans through the snacks Satoru brought along.

“You all can do as you please,” Suguru begins, his hands dragging you forward and tugging you towards him, arms now circling your waist and pressing his head into your navel.

“I’m staying right here.”

Notes:

“Hogger!”

“Dirty cheat!”

Shoko and Satoru eventually physically dragged him off of you since his hug was making you sleepy.

“You’re not going to sleep yet! The night is still young!”

You all sat in a little circle and did each other’s hair.

You -> Shoko -> Suguru -> Satoru

You gave Shoko little pigtails that caused Satoru and Suguru to lose their heads laughing at.

“WAHAHAH, IT DOESN’T SUIT HER AT ALL!”

“But she’s cute…!”

Suguru is desperate to hold back his laughter. “Very…” He snorts a little. “Cute…!”

“You all better watch yourselves tonight…!”

Shoko gave Suguru space buns.

Suguru tied Gojo’s hair into little bunches with several hairties.

“My little cactus.”

Satoru isn’t particularly skilled. Whatever he gave you ends up being a mess as the other 3 miserably try to stop themselves from laughing.

“You’re… So pretty!” Shoko holds your hands as she says it, her face red as she tries so hard to not lose it.

You’re glowing with happiness at her praise. You genuinely think Satoru is good with hairstyles now.

When everyone fell asleep, Shoko drew on Satoru and Suguru’s faces with permanent marker.

Suguru was given cat whiskers and other feline details.

Satoru was given the ugliest moustache she could draw with a messy beard and monocle.

You couldn’t stop laughing the entire morning.

[the-raven-lady]

Psychoanalyst anon here. ‘Why does every warhammer x reader fan have a breeding kink?’ ‘why do we keep writing about astartes nutting inside us??’ Look, and I’m metaphorically grabbing you by shoulders here, 99% of the x reader fics everyone writes are about the Horus Heresy narrative. The very famous 60-something book series called the Horus Heresy. The very famous book series about a family tragedy.

The entire premise of it is not only about daddy issues, but also about how extremist beliefs destroy families, and it’s also about how you can never leave a family, no matter how hard you try. 10,000 years in and every single space marine still carries a legion/chapter specific bit of trauma with them, I mean take a look at the blood angels, they straight up have their dad’s ptsd. It’s not something any of the marines or the primarchs or the custodes can’t run away from, a tapestry cannot run from the thread it’s weaved from, a person cannot run from the genetics that created them. And the genetics that created them are like, the literal worst, straight up coloniser dna.

In many books they refer to each other as ‘blood relations’, and in many books that blood is spilt over and over and over again. On first glance the space marines, primarchs, and custodes seem to be just a parody on that ‘manly macho man’ trope, but the closer you look at it you start to realise that it’s all about the cyclical nature of generational trauma.

So is it really that surprising that a lot of people who enjoy the ‘worst family ever’ book series would also have a breeding kink about it? I think that what we’re doing is just engaging with the source material in a meaningful and slightly kinky way.

The other reason for why most people here have a breeding kink about it is even more obvious. The entire kink is just a part of your brain that controls reproduction going a tiny bit overdrive sometimes. And how could it not? The characters in the HH series are always described as either being the most gorgeous, powerful, or intimidating people to ever appear in your pitiful baseline field of vision. So of course the ‘maybe I should have kids’ part of your brain would fixate on a big strong beautiful guy that could protect from all harm.

Especially so when it comes to the primarchs, because that’s literally how the Emperor intended them to work. ‘You see how hot this man is? Yes? You want your kids to be 50% him, don’t you? Well congrats because you can! All you have to do is just send any young children you already have to your nearest astartes initiate program-’

But again, I’m not a licensed anything so don’t take my word for it. I don’t know your brain.

Thank you for blessing my inbox. I'm sorry I fell asleep before you appeared.

I know for me personally, my breeding kink existed far before any interaction with 40k. I actually think the assessment of "Big man who is pretty" is closer to my side of things than the daddy issues side of 40k.

Now that I'm sober, I posit another explanation as an addition to what you've already given: It ties back into domination and devotion.

Being marked and claimed by someone large and powerful who can protect you definitely appeals to the lizard brain, but I think there's a little bit more to the consensual domination of being marked with someone's seed that appeals to me personally. And generally, the before, during, and after tend to be full of praises and devotionals and excitement from your opposite. "You're going to look so good carrying my children," etc. Getting doted on and taken care of by a devoted partner is probably the second largest appeal to me, but you've already eaten us alive over that and left no crumbs, so I digress.

I appreciate

[nekohime19]

Mini Mac # 28 : Snatchable lil guy

Macaque is getting kidnapped with Sanzang!

Perhaps they should have been more cautious. It's not as if Macaque wasn't aware that the journey was dangerous but he usually never participated in battles, staying in the back with the frightened monk. He left the fighting to the golden-furred monkey. He would never admit it but Wukong's fighting form was quite beautiful, he couldn't help but sneak a glance or two every time the sage wielded his staff. The wind made sure to remind him of his wandering eyes at every opportunity, it was becoming quite infuriating.

Macaque sighed as he looked up at the tied-up young monk. Sanzang looked terrified and it was quite understable, being snatched by demons wasn't a pleasant experience. The black-furred monkey was in the same predicament, tied up by a lil thread. He could get out rather easily. He was a master when it came to escapery. But the demons that caught them had a rather troublesome artifact that Macaque wanted to avoid at all cost.

The two demon brothers were parading in their lair, brimming with joy at their catches.

“Can you believe it, brother? We caught the monk!” Cheered the silver horned demon as he put his hand on his hips, Yin, if Macaque recalled right.

“It's all part of the plan!” Chuckled the golden horned demon, Jin. “What do we do next?”

Yin took out a book and flipped the pages, he narrowed his eyes and read very carefully.

“Now we eat him!”

“Excellent ! Let's roast him!”

“Actually, brother. I think steaming him would be better. Makes it tastier.” Intervened Yin as he closed the book. Jin narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, not happy with the interruption.

“I say we roast him.”

“And I say we steam him!”

Macaque couldn't believe those two idiotic demons managed to catch him off guard. His battle skills became rusty after months of letting Wukong do all the fighting, he needed to get back in shape soon. The black-furred monkey gazed at the calabash tied on Yin's slashes, if he managed to get this thing away from the troublesome brothers then escaping this place would be rather easy. Macaque looked up at the monk and quietly loosened the threads around his wrists. Sanzang squirmed in his spot, visibly worried.

“Hush, kiddo.” Shushed Macaque, hoping to come off as reassuring. Sanzang looked even more worried. “Just… keep quiet.” Mumbled Macaque as he crawled towards the brothers.

Macaque dived in the shadows and traveled silently while the brothers were bickering about cooking techniques. The lil guy almost managed to graze the calabash but he was interrupted by someone destroying the wall. Wukong looked absolutely feral, fur bristled, eyes shining like molten lava. His gaze swept off the place and narrowed on the two brothers who held into each other for dear life. He approached them with a razor sharp walk and leaned over the two horned demons.

“Where. Is. He?” He growled, fangs glinting in the dim-lighted cave.

“T-the monk is here!” Yelped Yin as he pointed to Sanzang, who was being rescued by Wujing. Wukong looked over Sanzang, his gaze softening a lil in reassurance (Macaque knew Wukong had a secret developing soft spot for the pilgrims!) but then he whipped his head towards the two brothers and growled once more :

“Where. Is. He?”

Macaque took the opportunity to kick the calabash away from the brothers, getting the dreadful artifact as far away as possible; how those idiots even stumbled upon this was questionable.

“Macaque!” Wukong ran over Macaque, grabbed him and brought him to his face. He then rubbed Macaque against his cheek. “Are you okay? Do you want me to kill those guys? I swear if they touched a single hair on your pretty head I’ll-”

“I'm okay, big guy.” Chuckled Macaque as he put one of his lil paws on Wukong's lips to shush him. “Let's just get out of here.”

“Yeah, sure! Anything.” Mumbled Wukong as he walked out of the cave, gripping on Macaque tightly, as if he was afraid of letting him go.

The same night, as the pilgrims were sitting around a campfire, Wukong wasn't letting go of Macaque.

“Come on, Monkey. Is he your teddy bear now?” Sighed Bajie as he dived in the bowl of soup he prepared. Macaque had to admit, despite the pig being insufferable at times, he was getting better at cooking.

“Shut it, Piglet. You know nothing of best friend bonds !” Growled Wukong.

“My, my, let's not get this heated, right?” Laughed Wujing as he passed a bowl of soup over the golden-furred monkey.

“I'm just glad it's over.” Sighed Sanzang as he rubbed his back, being tied up was not kind on his back.

“You know, when you were snatched up, Macaque, Wukong almost teared up.” Chuckled Ao Lie as he slurped his soup. Wukong looked at the dragon horse in betrayal.

“You when we talked about things that you should keep to yourself Ao Lie?” Sighed Wukong as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Yeah?” Answered the dragon horse.

“This was one of them.” Groaned Wukong. Macaque laughed quietly as he finished his thumb-size bowl of soup.

+ cut scenes

Wukong *after Macaque was snatched* : Nooooo, Bae!! 😭🥺

Wukong *one minute after* : I'm gonna commit murder 😡

 

Wukong : You know Ao Lie, sometimes you should...keep the tea to yourself, you get me ? 😔

Ao Lie : I don't drink tea? 🤔

Wukong : just stop spilling my feelings to my crush, please 😭🙏

 

Sanzang : today is gonna be a good day 😌

Sanzang *is being snatched* : here we go again 🥲

Ch1 / Previous / Next

[iwaoiness]

It happens on the fourth day of the second week of the VNL. Akane Yamamoto finally gets the chance to interview Iwaizumi in person, who is happy to speak with her again and compliments her about her new role as a sports journalist at the renowned television network.

The interview flows in an engaging and even fun manner. All the questions focus on JNT, the most problematic players he has encountered, his routines, and his professional future with the team. Iwaizumi laughs at a few responses, and Akane really enjoys the conversation.

Then, Hajime's smartwatch starts to vibrate remembering the meeting with the technical team and the coach.

Akane apologizes and asks for just five more minutes, which Iwaizumi happily grants, postponing the alarm. She quickly reviews her notebook, sighing in relief when there is only one last question left to ask. She then looks up at the athletic trainer again, her smile widening.

"Iwaizumi-sensei, there is one last thing all the viewers want to know before we say goodbye and wish you the best of luck for the match against Poland. Since today is your birthday, what would be the perfect gift for you?" she asks, directing the microphone towards Iwaizumi.

Akane hopes he will respond with something as cool as winning today's match or securing first place in the tournament. Or perhaps he will simply wish for health and a bright future for the JNT. Or maybe he'll ask for a raise for being the professional babysitter of the monster generation. Or he might just laugh, unsure of what to wish for.

What Akane doesn't expect is for Iwaizumi to smile warmly and soft, his gaze fixed beyond her, and then to gesture in that direction with his chin.

"That."

In a flash, both Akane and the camera held by her cameraman swiftly turn around.

Near the billboards, just a few meters away, Oikawa Tooru is kneeling in front of a little girl no older than ten, scribbling on a towel resting on his thigh. He looks radiant, his hair tousled from his recent victory over Germany, his blue shirt clinging to his broad torso like a second skin, his new compression sleeves wrapping around his chiseled muscles of his arms, and his knee pads now resting at his ankles.

He smiles genuinely at whatever the little girl is enthusiastically telling him, oblivious to the camera and Hajime's gaze. When he finishes signing the towel, he hands it to her, and she squeals with delight, proudly showing it to her mother before giving Oikawa a high five and saying goodbye.

As Tooru stands up, a shy young boy approaches him, holding a volleyball under his arm and a black marker in his hand. And Oikawa greets him with the same genuine happiness as before.

Both the cameraman and Akane return to Hajime. The journalist, cheeks flushed, closes her mouth, which she had unconsciously left open, and blinks at Iwaizumi like an owl. He looks at her, amused, with his hands in his pockets.

"Isn't my gift so pretty?"

That segment of the interview goes viral within days (just a few weeks before the All Star Match, for Kuroo's delight). Countless theories are published, the most popular being the true meaning of the ring Oikawa always ties to his shoelaces during every match—not a good luck charm, but a real engagement ring (Tooru didn't help by responding to the entire thread with a simple o(≧▽≦)o). A certain Hanamaki begins accepting interviews (with payment upfront, of course) only to answer ambiguously and send greetings to his mother from various networks. A certain Matsukawa gives away I <3 IwaOi shirts with the purchase of a coffin. And Oikawa finally re-uploads all the photos with Iwaizumi to his public account, from the selfie where Tooru playfully bites Hajime's cheek while he laughs, to the photo of his hand on Iwaizumi's solid, muscular, and broad back, his long fingers caressing the scratches at the height of his shoulder blades and the trail of hickeys on his neck.

...

every june day it's iwa's day

u can find me on my ao3 🍉

[dorka]

Most mar a garbage day is megirta (egybol ossze is omlott a site)

Over the weekend, the always-excellent John Burn-Murdoch, over at The Financial Times, posted an alarming bit of demographic analysis that has now gone very viral. It’s from a column Burn-Murdoch wrote titled, “A New Global Gender Divide Is Emerging,” which shows a tremendous political gap forming between young men and women around the world.

Burn-Murdoch followed up the column with a lengthy thread on X hypothesizing as to what may be causing this gap and thousands of other users have offered up their own diagnoses, as well: Smartphones, video games, economic inequality, lack of education, an over-correction post-#MeToo.

Interestingly enough, though, the bulk of Burn-Murdoch’s reporting focuses on South Korea, the US, Germany, the UK, Spain, Poland, China, and Tunisia. Which, aside from China and Tunisia, were all countries I worked in, covering elections and far-right radicalization, in and around the time period those countries’ respective political gender gaps began widening. I’m not saying I have a tremendously in-depth understanding of, say, Polish toxic masculinity, but I did spend several days there following around white nationalist rappers and Catholic fundamentalist football fans. And, in South Korea, I worked on a project about radical feminists and their activism against the country’s equivalent of 4chan, Ilbe Storehouse.

In fact, between 2015-2019, I visited over 20 countries, essentially asking the same question: Where do bad men here hangout online? Which has given me a near-encyclopedic directory in my head, unfortunately, of international 4chan knock-offs. In Spain, it’s a car forum that doxxes rape victims called ForoCoches. In France, it’s a gaming forum that organized rallies for Marine Le Pen called Jeux Video. In Japan, it’s 2channel. In Brazil, it’s Dogolachan. And most, if not all, of these spaces pre-date any sort of modern social movement like #MeToo — or even the invention of the smartphone.

But the mainstream acceptance of the culture from these sites is new. Though I don’t actually think the mystery of “why now?” is that much of a mystery. While working in Europe, I came to understand that these sites and their culture war campaigns like Gamergate were a sort of emerging form of digital hooliganism. Nothing they were doing was new, but their understanding how to network online was novel. And in places like the UK, it actually became more and more common in the late-2010s to see Pepe the Frog cosplayers marching alongside far-right football clubs. In the US, we don’t have the same sports culture, but the end result has been the same. The nerds and the jocks eventually aligned in the streets. The anime nazis were simply early adopters and the tough guys with guns and zip ties just needed time to adapt to new technology. And, unlike the pre-internet age, unmoderated large social platforms give them an infinitely-scalable recruitment radius. They don’t have to hide in backrooms anymore.

Much of the digital playbook fueling this recruitment for our new(ish) international masculinist movement was created by ISIS, the true early adopters for this sort of thing. Though it took about a decade for the West to really embrace it. But nowadays, it is not uncommon to see trad accounts sharing memes about “motherhood,” that are pretty much identical to the Disney Princess photoshops ISIS brides would post on Tumblr to advertise their new life in Syria. And, even more darkly, just this week, a Trump supporter in Pennsylvania beheaded his father and uploaded it to YouTube, in a video where he ranted about the woke left and President Biden. Online extremism is a flat circle.

The biggest similarity, though, is in what I can cultural encoding. For ISIS, this was about constantly labeling everything that threatened their influence as a symptom of the decadent, secular West.

(X.com/jeremykauffman)

Taylor Swift, an extremely affluent blonde, blue-eyed white woman who writes country-inflected pop music and is dating a football player headed for the Super Bowl. She should be a resounding victory for these guys. Doesn’t get more American than that. But due to an actually very funny glitch in how they see the world, she’s actually a huge threat.

Pop culture, according to the right wing, should be frivolous. Because before the internet, it was something sold to girls by corporations run by powerful men. Famous pop stars through the ages, like Frank Sinatra, America’s first Justin Bieber, or The Beatles, the One Direction of their time, would be canonized as Great by Serious Men after history had forgotten they rocketed to success as their generation’s Tumblr Sexymen. But from the 2000s onward, thanks to an increasingly powerful digital public square, young women and people of color were able to have more influence in mainstream culture and also accumulate more financial power from it. And after Barack Obama’s 2008 presidential campaign was able to connect this new form of pop influence to both liberal progressive politics and, also, social media, well, conservatives realized they had to catch up and fast. And the fastest way to do that is to try and smash the whole thing by dismissing it as feminine.

Pop music? It’s for girls. Social media? It’s for girls. Democrats? Girls. Taylor Swift? Girls and also a government psyop. But this line of thinking has no limit. It poisons everything. If Swift manages to make it to the Super Bowl, well, that has to become feminine too. And at a certain point, the whole thing falls apart because, honestly, you just sound like an insane loser.

[everythingseasoning]

Love, forever? (Updated Masterlist moved here)

vampire! suguru x reader x vampire! Satoru

vampire! Suguru x reader. includes: Morality, and selfishness vs selflessness themes. // Vampire! Suguru and Satoru, who are vampire hunters that protect humans from evil ones. // Blooming rivalry between Satoru & reader for Suguru’s attention. // AU characters. Satoru is clingier and more emotional than his canon self. Suguru despises the strong (vampires) for hurting the weak (humans). // New vampire lore ;). // Angst. Suguru battling his inner demons, trying to do good despite his vampire nature and urges. // Reader has multiple targets on her back (Naoya appearance!) // Both Suguru and Satoru fall for reader. // Eventual smut in later chapters. //

Ch. 01 Teaser // NOTE: if you saw the teaser already, I’ve edited it a lot and added in more juicy dialogue & scenes ;) feel free to read it again, I recommend that.

The drink is nothing short of young and dumb, the blend of tooth-rottingly sweet flavors hitting your taste buds as you stare holes into Suguru’s back. You can see the sculpture of his muscles and beautiful bones through his tight tee, your ex’s sculpted body turned away from you. He’s speaking to a girl you had heard about— the life of all parties, pretty, smart, and fun. Was he moving on already? Did you really mean so little to him? Would she be the one to make him stay? 

You take another swig from the plastic blue cup, hoping the painful twisting motion of your heart would be soon dulled. Coca Cola, sherbet, and yakult alcohol would be your poison of the night, you think, swallowing down the concoction as tears prick your eyes. 

“Another one of those people who drinks their troubles away?” 

The voice amidst the bass and booming music causes you to turn, your eyes meeting striking blue ones. Snowy hair rests soft and thick on his head, your heart skipping a beat when you see such a beautiful stranger. 

If you were being honest, you weren’t in the mood to talk to somebody else— not when your heart was still tied right onto Suguru’s. You love Suguru, you really do. The recent past haunts your every waking moment. And even in your dreams, he’s there, chuckling as you braid his hair, the nonfiction book he’s been reading facedown in his lap as your fingers thread his silky locks; He’s watching you with a fond smile as you run ahead of him in the campus garden, jumping amongst the flowers; The warmth and sturdiness of his hands against your face as the two of you kiss— his soft, supple lips meeting yours in that familiar dance and tangle. In your dreams he’s still yours. You both made up. In your dreams, things are warm and right. 

When you wake up in an empty bed, with an aching heart, it just feels cruel. The light slipped away again. You thought you had it. You had your dream come true only to realize it was just that— a fleeting dream. There’s no respite from the memory of all his adoration, thoughtful gestures, all the times you’d stare mesmerized as he sat focused, his eyebrows pinched as he worked… The way he felt when you were wrapped in his embrace, your face buried in his sturdy chest— that feeling of being cared for— 

You missed him bad, with every fiber of your being. 

Suguru is still all you can think about. You’re at this damned college party because, even a month after he’d broken up with you, all you wanted was to be close to him, to see him. It’s pathetic. Knowing he’d be here, knowing you’d be tearing your heart open again, the wound freshly cut back open— and you still came here. How many times had you stalked his social media despite having been removed from his following? 

“Cat got your tongue?” The beautiful stranger breaks you out of your thoughts, forcing a reply. 

“No—” you start to say, raising your voice. It’s just barely audible over the clamor of the party. 

“Really?” He butts in, raising an eyebrow. “‘Cause it seems like there’s some hard evidence against your statement.” His small smile is as unconventional as it is disarming. 

“And you are?” 

“Satoru Gojo, if you haven’t heard about me already. I go to a different university. A better one.” 

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “And why would I know of you?” 

Satoru just tilts his head ever so slightly, his smile unwavering as he replies, “Your head is under a rock, is what I heard you say.”

Confusion flits across your face before your mouth falls open slightly, a feigned look of offense stretched on your features. You feel like ignoring this pesky person. You glance away for a second, in search of Suguru’s back— the spot he’d been standing in holds a different person, somebody you don’t know, somebody you’re not at all interested in. You frown, scanning the crowd.

Satoru waves a hand in front of your face. You look up at him, annoyed.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“What? Need a reason to talk to a pretty girl?” 

“That’s an overused line,” You shout back, the music so loud you can barely hear yourself. Your attention shifts away from the snowy haired man back to the sea of party goers. You desperately search the throng of buzzing chaos. No sign of Suguru. Just dancing, mingling, kissing, drinking, the typical activities going on under the strobe lights. Fuck.

Suguru, where did you go? Please… Your heart feels like it’s a rock in your stomach. Please don’t tell me you’re fucking her right now in somebody’s bedroom. It’s not my business— but I can’t stand the thought of it—

Satoru chuckles, and you look back at him, unable to hide your expression of pain. You’re about to excuse yourself to find a bathroom to cry in, when he speaks again.

“You’re right. How should I flirt, hm? Wanna coach me? It’ll lift your blues, too,” His smirk would’ve had you folding had you not ever met Suguru. But you did cross paths with the raven-haired man— collided and intertwined, more like— and now nobody compares to him. Nobody would ever be him. 

“Not really. Excuse me,” you begin to say, before turning slightly, about to slip away—

“Suguru is my best friend,” he says. 

You freeze, whipping around now to face Satoru.

“He told me about you— first time he ever told me about anyone, actually. Suguru said you were somebody he actually loved.” Satoru’s cheeky expression has been wiped off, replaced with one of aloof nonchalance and detachment. It’s almost eerie, but your focus isn’t on that.

You’re at a loss for words, eyes caught on Satoru’s, hanging onto everything he says like maybe, just maybe, it means that Suguru wants you back.

“He’s had his fair share of flings and hookups, after all.” Satoru teases, smirking again, bending down to your level.

“I thought I was losing my best friend to a weakling.” His breath is surprisingly chilly against your face. “Turns out you were never the one. Sucks that you couldn’t make him stay.” You feel everything shatter. “Sucks for you, I mean,” Satoru finishes. He leaves out the part where he gloats about being the one Suguru has always admired, and stuck with. 

You’re shocked, mouth hanging open. You’re hurt. You’re aching in confusion about what wasn’t good enough about you. You’re angry and betrayed— all the feelings clash like giant waves crashing against one another inside your heart. 

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” 

Satoru grins, shrugging. “It means what it means. But I’m curious,” he says, leaning closer, his pearly teeth glinting red under the strobe lights, “What is it about you that had Suguru caught up on ya?” His lips graze your cheek, his voice in your ear, “I don’t get it.”

You slap him before you can realize what you’re doing. Violence is not the answer, but this time, it sure as hell felt like it. Your fingers sting, your panicked thoughts a running train. Did I just? Oh my god! I didn’t— I fucking did—

“I— I’m sorry—” you stammer quickly, eyes wide in shock at your own actions. Satoru is eerily emotionless, staring down at you with those startling ocean eyes. You shiver despite the heat of the stuffy, overcrowded room. 

“Hm.” 

It’s all he says. You open your mouth to speak again, blinking— 

And he’s gone. 

— — —

A swig of the liquor causes the liquid to slosh in the green bottle. 

“Thought you liked shy girls, Suguru?” Satoru pokes, a red handprint on his cheek. He’s kicked back on the couch outside the bathroom, grimacing when the alcohol hits his tongue. He’s spitting it out back into the bottle immediately. 

“I do,” Suguru replies calmly, a streak of lovely bare skin showing amidst the shaving cream on his face. He runs the razor back down, taking off more of the fluffy white foam. 

“Yeesh. Can’t believe we used to drink this shit,” Satoru sticks his tongue on dramatically, tossing the full glass of alcohol across the room. It lands right in the trash bin with a clang. “That’s where it belongs,” he huffs. 

“So?” Satoru prompts, kicking his feet up. “You realize she doesn’t fit your ideal type, right? Why’d you get with her for a whole year, then?”

“She was shy at first,” Suguru says softly, a glint of something like pain in his eyes. He catches Satoru’s gaze on him in the mirror and the glint disappears. Satoru notices, but says nothing, now peeling open a candy from its foil wrapper. 

“And I told you already, Satoru,” Suguru continues, sparing his friend an exasperated glance. “I love—d her.” A blip. A mistake so quickly covered that if it was anyone but Satoru, they’d have missed it.

Blue eyes pierce Suguru. 

“But it wasn’t going to work out. Love isn’t meant for us. You and I… We’re not meant to be with humans,” Suguru murmurs, looking at his face in the mirror. It was myth that vampires didn’t have reflections. They do. But there’s something the myths forgot. Some sort of change is written in a vampire’s eyes. There always has been, and always will be, some sort of difference from a person’s antecedent human form, and their new, evolved one, hidden in their eyes after they turn. Suguru touches his eyebags, dark and heavy. 

That’s not what changed. No. His warm, earthy brown eyes had turned purple the night Satoru turned him. He woke up with them, the day after everything changed. 

Suguru’s tired reflection stares back at him, rich amethyst irises shining like glossy, sharp stars in the mirror. He wishes he didn’t recognize them. Now he’s stuck dealing with people commenting on his “cool contacts,” for the rest of eternity. Suguru exhales deeply, softly, his still, dead heart aching.

“Being undead with a vital thirst for human blood will do that,” Satoru ho-hums, blissfully unaware of the insensitive nature of his obliviousness. 

Suguru is silent, continuing to shave, but the blade knicks his skin. He curses quietly. 

“So,” Satoru grunts with chocolate melting on his tongue, grateful that at least his cravings and delight in sweets didn’t change when they turned, “You don’t trust yourself to be around her without hurting her. But you were doing well for a year. What do you say changed?”

Suguru dabs at the blood dripping down his otherwise unmarked face. It would heal, his skin would be perfectly smooth again in a day, not a trace of his mistake, or scar, would remain. All wounds heal within 24 hours for vampires. It’s something Suguru was grateful for, considering his job of being a vampire slayer. 

“My urges got insatiable. Blood bags weren’t enough,” Suguru says curtly. Despite the battle of breaking up with you being long over, Suguru’s mind is a war zone. I couldn’t even look at her… without… needing to taste her blood. His fists clench on the marble sink. It got bad. I almost hurt her.

Satoru stares at his best friend, knowing that in this silence, his mind is a maelstrom. Suguru sees Satoru’s unflinching gaze, but remains quiet. He knows his friend won’t understand. 

But Satoru presses on anyway, nodding, looking bored. 

“Right. You can’t suppress your urges right now. That happened to me too. The second year is the hardest.” Satoru was the one who turned Suguru, after all, on that unwelcomed, fateful night. “It helps when you just feed on multiple pretty girls a night and compel them all to forget— You could’ve had both, you know. Her and human blood from others. You’re so mopey now.” Satoru’s callous remark piques Suguru’s irritation, a flame of anger burning in the raven-haired man’s chest.

“I won’t do that and be in a relationship.” 

“I saw you feeding on that random chick an hour ago. If you and I didn’t always ask for consent before feeding, I’d never have believed she would be okay with that,” Satoru’s eyes gleam playfully. Suguru doesn’t reply, and Satoru deflates. 

“You’re still grumpy. You move around like you’re actually dead, Suguru. You torture yourself by still caring about your ex. She’s nothing special. I don’t get it.” 

Ah. The truth comes out. Suguru’s eyebrows knit, his mouth pressed into a firm line as something dark flickers in his eyes. 

“Satoru, she has a name, and she’s worth something even if you can’t see it. Just shut up.”

“And what worth do you see in her?”

Suguru is silent for a moment. How could he convey the light and warmth that you were in his life? He’d died twice, once literally, once figuratively, and yet— you brought him back. “…She’s… good.”

“And?”

Suguru’s temper flares. “You just don’t get it, so will you just leave it?” He snarls, fangs involuntarily popping out. He curses silently in disgust at what he has become. 

“You’re such a grouch nowadays,” Satoru huffs, before popping another chocolate into his mouth. He gets up, stretching. 

“Well. I need to feed again.” 

“Be safe about it. And I’m not referring to your safety,” Suguru says sternly, his whole head turned to look at Satoru now, some white foam still on the man’s face. 

“Yeah, yeah, mom, I got it.” With that, Satoru pulls his black coat over his lean, muscled body, a wolfish grin on his face as he slips out the apartment door. Did he need the black coat? No. Not at all. Vampires don’t get cold. They’re already icy to the touch. But it helps him blend in, both with humans and the night. 

— — — 

You’re intoxicated. It’s two AM and you’re stumbling around campus like a fucking idiot. 

Well how about that? Satoru spies you from across the quad, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. 

He slips through the shadows. 

You nearly jump when a tall, dark figure appears before you, looming over you. 

Snowy hair shines in the lamplight, blue eyes flashing like glaciers, staring right at you. You swear they flash red for a second.

“You again?” You slur your words. You aren’t scared. He’s Suguru’s best friend, which means he by extension must be a good guy. Almost as if he hears your thoughts, Satoru grins. His teeth are brilliant, his canines shining ivory and glistening like expensive accessory jewels.

Do not plagiarize my writing in any way. Do not feed my writing to ai.

Comment to be on the taglist :)! Sharing your thoughts are appreciated!!!

[randomperson99sworld]

Hope

~ Chapter 14 ~

Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester save a young woman —Natalie Johnson, from a coven of witches who are after her deceased grandmothers spell book. At first Dean doesn’t trust her, will he ever? Natalie is just simply a woman who gets roped up in the supernatural world from a mistake her grandmother made.

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warning: Age gap, slow burn, smut (not until the later chapters), language, gore.

Word Count: 997

A/N: I may post one or two more chapters tonight. Happy reading! ♥️

The morning after the heated confrontation, the air in the motel room felt a bit lighter. Sam was still recovering from his injuries, but his color was better, and he was awake and alert. Dean was pacing the room, his mind already on the next hunt, and Natalie—sitting at the small table with her laptop—was focused on her own task.

Dean had suggested Natalie stay behind for this one. After the previous hunt went sideways, they agreed that it would be best for her to handle the research side of things this time, especially given her knack for hacking and digging up information. Sam needed rest, and they needed someone with skills to help them out remotely. So while the boys went off to investigate, Natalie had stayed behind to provide support.

As the day wore on, Dean and Sam were deep into their hunt—a string of strange deaths that pointed toward a revenant. But they had hit a dead end and needed more information. Specifically, they needed access to a secure database that could provide insight into the location of the revenant's burial site. That's where Natalie came in.

Sitting in the motel room, Natalie was in her element, typing furiously on her laptop. Her fingers flew over the keys as she accessed databases, searched for encrypted files, and hacked into restricted systems. The government security on the local archives wasn't anything she couldn't handle—she'd faced worse in her professional work—but this required finesse. The information they needed was buried deep in city records, and she had to bypass multiple layers of protection to get to it.

Dean's voice crackled through the phone as he and Sam stood outside a small graveyard, waiting for her to come through.

"Natalie, we need this info like... yesterday. You got anything for us?"

She rolled her eyes, smirking at the impatience in his tone. "Yeah, yeah, keep your pants on. I'm working on it. Whoever set up this system did a pretty decent job, but..."

Her voice trailed off as she clicked through a series of firewalls, each one falling as she bypassed their defenses. Within minutes, she was in. Her eyes lit up as she found the records they needed—burial records and land ownership that hadn't been touched in years.

"Got it!" she said, a note of triumph in her voice. "Looks like your revenant is buried in an old plot on the edge of the cemetery. I'm sending you the exact coordinates now. You'll want to be careful, though—there's mention of an unmarked grave, which means you're probably going to have to do a little digging."

Dean's sigh of relief was audible through the phone. "Good work, Nat. You just saved us hours of guesswork."

Natalie grinned, feeling the familiar rush of satisfaction. "You're welcome. Anything else you need?"

Sam's voice came on the line next, sounding tired but grateful. "Actually, yeah. There's some encrypted police files on the previous deaths that we couldn't access at the station. Think you can get into them and see if there's any common thread between the victims?"

"On it," Natalie replied, her fingers already flying over the keyboard as she worked on cracking the police database. This one was more challenging, but she was in the zone now, her mind focused and clear. After a few minutes, she let out a satisfied hum as the files unlocked.

"There we go," she said, scrolling through the records. "Looks like all the victims were buried with personal items—family heirlooms, jewelry, stuff like that. Could be what's keeping the revenant tied to them."

Dean grunted in approval. "That's what we needed. You're killing it, Nat."

Natalie smiled, her confidence growing. She hadn't just hacked a secure government database—she'd done it faster and more efficiently than she thought possible. The work was exhilarating, and even though she wasn't out in the field with the boys, she knew she was contributing in a big way.

"You guys owe me dinner for this," she teased, her voice light.

Dean chuckled. "Yeah, yeah, we'll get you something. Just keep that line open. We might need more help when we dig this thing up."

The hunt ended successfully, with Dean and Sam managing to locate and take down the revenant before it could claim any more lives. By the time they returned to the motel, covered in dirt and sweat but victorious, Natalie had compiled a detailed report on everything she had uncovered during her research.

As they walked in, Dean tossed his jacket onto the bed, nodding toward her with a smirk. "Gotta hand it to you, Nat. You pulled through again. That hack job you did on those city records? Impressive."

Natalie looked up from her laptop, raising an eyebrow. "Oh, was that an actual compliment?"

Dean shrugged, trying to downplay it. "Don't let it go to your head."

Sam, sitting on the edge of the bed, chuckled. "Seriously, though, you were great today. We wouldn't have been able to get this done without your help."

Natalie felt a swell of pride. "Thanks, guys. Honestly, it was kinda fun. You might want to leave all the tech stuff to me from now on."

Dean snorted, but there was no edge to it. "Yeah, yeah. Just don't go getting cocky."

Despite the banter, there was an unspoken understanding between them now. Natalie had proven herself, not just in the field but behind the scenes as well. She wasn't just along for the ride—she was part of the team. And that meant more to her than she could put into words.

As the three of them settled in for the night, with another hunt successfully completed, Natalie couldn't help but feel like she'd found her place. She might not be swinging machetes or firing silver bullets, but she was still in the fight. And for the first time in a long while, she felt like she truly belonged.

[husbandomail]

OKAYYY heres the request! Can we please get an venoct x reader (pref romantic but platonic is fine) oneshot where a powerful yokai like dame deadtime or smthn idk is plotting to do something terrible to reader because she is seen as a threat, so he has to help her. But when he meets up with reader, he has to double take because surely not?? Reader is girly, pretty and decked out in hot pink + zebra print combo. (If you catch my vibe) Bro was expecting a 45+ incredibly wise, gruff man to be this apparent yokai master not this random girl?? Thank you in advance 💕💕

I hope this is okay!! it made me want to replay the first game again dfghgfd

It’s not the kind of thing that can be explained to someone who’s never experienced it. A pull in Venoct’s chest— a thread that drags him forward, from the yokai world back into the midst of humanity. Some nights, it’s annoying; he has other things he could be doing. The inexplicable ties to the yokai watch are nothing but a distraction.

On nights like this, though, he should probably be glad it makes his job a little easier.

“This way, this way!” Springdale is covered in the thick, swirling fog that signals Terror Time— the air is split with the roar of an angry oni intent on eating whoever is walking through nightmares, and Venoct doesn’t have any time to assess the person he’s rescuing. All he can do is trust that ache in his chest brought him to the right person.

Keen eyes finally catch sight of the door that materializes in the dark; Venoct slides to a halt, nimble fingers catching on the ethereal frame and dragging the door open. There’s a flash of light, a pulse of energy, a sigh of relief from a voice he doesn’t know, and Terror Time dissipates.

All at once, the night is far too quiet. The air is crisp and clear as it invades his lungs, and the ringing roar of the nightmare oni has been replaced with the loud buzzing of cicadas in trees.

Even a seasoned yokai needs a moment to readjust after adrenaline-fueled escapes, so Venoct is caught up for a moment, chest heaving as he tries to catch his breath. A strange energy thrums through his body as well; he can’t usually say he’s nervous, but he also can’t remember the last time he interacted with a human. Besides, if Mckraken is scared of the person with the yokai watch, they must be very—

—pink? 

“You’re— not—”

“What you were expecting? Yeah, I’ve been getting that a lot lately.” Absently, you spin the dial on your yokai watch, the hands ticking rapidly as they spin. You don’t even sound winded, after that chase through the town, and Venoct tries to bury the baffled amusement that bubbles in his chest. The young man— well, the yokai— in front of you tilts his head and narrows his eyes. For yet another moment in his long unlife, Venoct is glad most people can’t see him. 

He doesn’t want to be seen next to you.

Venoct’s face scrunches up as his gaze travels your body. You’re very— well, pink, as he’d first noticed. And a lot shorter than he’d been expecting. And— a girl. Very much a girl. Mckraken is scared of this—?

“Are you going to keep staring, or did you actually need something?” Your voice bursts through his thoughts, and Venoct isn’t sure he likes the way his heart turns in his chest. He scoffs back at you, arms crossed, the serpentine heads on his scarf snapping vaguely at the air around him.

“You’re not the hero type,” he states plainly. His gaze pointedly narrows on your shoes— as bright as the rest of you, they glow whenever you take a step, and he can’t help but assume that might be what really set the oni off before the chase. “Just because you have the watch doesn’t mean you’re the kind of person I’ve been looking for.”

“Oh, shut up,” you snort back, planting your hands on your hips. “Yeah, you may’ve saved me this one time, but I seem to recall defeating Slimamander by myself.”

Venoct falls silent at that; no wonder the big, ugly yokai had come slinking back home the other day. And a girl did that—?

He must’ve taken too long to respond, because you’re turning on your heel and waving at him as you begin to walk. “Well, thanks for the help— I’m on a time limit, though.” You hold the yokai watch up in a way that almost seems like a challenge, the glass dome glinting in the moonlight. “I’m sure I’ll see you again. It looks like this thing attracts trouble.”

There it is again, that tug in his chest. Most yokai had assumed it was a big, important deal to feel such a draw to wherever the watch is on Earth; now that he knows it attaches him to you, though, Venoct isn’t sure how he feels about that “honor.” His heart hasn’t pounded this hard for centuries. “—I just saved you. Are you calling me trouble?”

“Only if it means I’ll see you again.”

[read-alert]

Soul Music by Terry Pratchett

One of my reading goals for 2025 is to start writing dedicated reviews, so here's my first one! Sorry that it's for a book in the middle of a giant series that I'm reading out of order.

This book follows two main plot threads. 1) Death has once again run off to try to emulate humanity and really feel something, and in his absence, the forces of the universe are pulling his granddaughter, Susan, into his role. New to the job and not yet fully grasping the rules, Susan decides that good people shouldn't die young and tries to save a young musician, which brings us to 2) Rock music comes to the city of Ankh-Morpork.

As is usual with Discworld, this book does an excellent job blending the humor, social commentary, and heartfelt earnestness that results in lovable characters. I absolutely understand why people love Susan so much, and I can't wait to see more of her. She's so much more charming and effective in her role than her father was, but speaking of her father, it's very noticeable just how similar this book was to Mort. I think it's an improvement, and I had way more fun with this one, but the fact remains that it does feel repetitive. And it doesn't help that this is third book in the Death subseries, and Death himself is still barely here. I love the character, but as I get further into his series, the more disappointed I get at how little of it he is in.

Also, the main theme of death being a fact of life and something that you have to both accept and yet still fight against to be human, is the third time we've done this. Again, I think it works better in this one, being tied both with Susan's personal grief over her parents and the concept of legacy in relation to art, but if this is all the Death series is going to be, I'm glad the next Discworld book I plan to read is a Witches book so I'm not just reading the same thing back to back to back. (Though of course, I do have to acknowledge that the actual publication order doesn't have the Death books one after another, so this element of my reading experience is my own fault.)

I don't have much to say about the music industry element. Yes, the anti-capitalist commentary mocking the industry itself for stripping away artistry to focus on money is well done, but that's not surprising for Pratchett. My main takeaway from it is how baffling I find the decision to write a satire about the music industry focused on rock music specifically, and not address the racism in the industry and how rock was pioneered by black and brown artists and whitewashed to hit the mainstream- especially with the heavy handed Elvis references when he's one of the main examples of that. Even more especially when this book was published in the mid 90s with all of the conversations about rap and hip hop "corrupting the youth."

There's a little bit there to work with, what with Buddy losing his accent and changing his name to fit the image of what the audience wants, but it's so much more subtle than Discworld usually does. Buddy's name is Buddy Holly for god's sake, subtly ain't the series' forte. And the band even has a dwarf and a troll, Pratchett's usual vehicle for Fantasy Racism. I'm not saying I want to hear a white, British man's takes on racism in the music industry, particularly given what I have heard about Interesting Times, but it's still unbelievable to me that you would choose to write about this topic and gloss over a huge element of it.

Some big ups and downs, but the ups were pretty great, and it's still Discworld, I'm gonna love it no matter what. 4⭐️

[skojukebox]

Stayed up really late last night and watched Noroi: The Curse (2005). It had to be done.

This is a found footage film, but not in the style of most you would find in America; it's not a video tape of people walking around a haunted house or the woods for an hour and a half. There's very little blood, violence, or gimmicky camera tricks. Instead, Noroi is a sort of compiled media collage. The primary section is a film shot by fictional horror/paranormal documentarian Masafumi Kobayashi who is slowly pulled into a web of strange happenings surrounding the disappearance of a young psychic child and the seeming haunting of actress Marika Matsumoto.

Interspersed with the documentary are various other programs spliced in which develop the story further. Very accurately recreated Japanese variety shows, news reports, a filming of a talk show... There's a bunch of little things that are very well done that keep the movie throwing curveballs at you. These segments, from what I've read, feature the actual hosts those shows would have which is pretty interesting. Similarly, the aformentioned Marika Matsumoto is an actress that's in a bunch of stuff (nerds may know her best as the japanese voice of Rikku) just playing herself which gives another weird meta-layer of reality to this.

The most difficult portion of Noroi is the beginning. There's some good stuff in there that is quite creepy, but it takes a good 30-40 minutes before threads start to begin to get tied together. Before that, it really does feel like a bunch of odd things are being thrown at you and it can be a little hard to follow. Out of curiosity I looked at others talking about this movie online and a pretty common criticism is "nothing happens." I believe a lot of people who say that just kind of just switched off during this portion of the film. I don't entirely blame them, but that's still a very disingenuous criticism.

Around the halfway point, Masafumi's investigations all begin to revolve around a flooded village and a demon called the Kagutabe. This is when it really starts to hit a stride and the mystery and intrigue are what carries it the rest of the way rather than raw in your face scares (though there are a few of those). This portion of the movie is one of, if not the best found footage stuff I've ever seen.

I am somewhat mixed on the ending. In a movie which is fairly low on the violence spectrum of things, stuff gets kinda spiked in the last five minutes and suddenly things get very raw and physical. Part of me doesn't entirely like that, but another part of me acknowledges it was the ending it needed and it does manage to be one of the most harrowing scenes in the whole thing.

Overall this was easily the best movie I've seen this year. The director went on to make a few other interesting-looking movies I want to poke my head into in the future. I'm on a bit of a j-horror kick at the moment, dunno if that will hold up or I'll switch it up next time...

[spellboundheartsaga]

Hearts of Bronze: Building Cultures

I like to think of myself as a creative person who can come up with completely new and fresh ideas that in no way real world things but that is honestly not accurate. Now that I'm no longer young and naive about where my ideas come from I have fully accepted and embraced using real world references.

It really started off with names. I don't like to use common everyday names in my fantasy worlds like John or Jane. There's nothing wrong with doing it. Sometimes a familiar name next to wildly unrealistic concepts is a really interesting juxtaposition and a lot of writers explore this relationship. It's just not my jam.

I wanted names that were unique to my worlds but I began to notice that all my names sounded the same. That's fine if all your characters are from the same country/region but I tend to write about things happening in big cities or empires, or journeys across continents. It's a ton of fun picking names out for major characters and reoccurring side characters but stories are filled with NPCs that are only mentioned in passing (I mean, I guess in a story they're all NPCs, but I do have a gaming and DnD background so in my head, that's how I refer to the minor characters that may only get a line or two. I often still name them because I think it helps me fill in the world and add dimension).

I now use things like fantasynamegenerator.com because it has the high fantasy names but it also has generators for real world names. Some of these are too commonplace to appeal to me but some are pretty unusual. I pick a real world culture and use that to inspire names for a specific country or culture in my story. This way characters of he same region have a subtle thread that ties them together and outsiders stand out.

In Hearts of Bronze, I have Khem and Carthago as two rival desert countries and the empty desert between them is the main location for the story. My refugees are from a Northern country called Aethel, that was defeated and absorbed by one of their rivals (haven't named the conquerors yet as they will not be a player in the story).

I am using ancient Egypt as an inspiration point for Khem, Phoenicia for Carthago, and Rome for Aethel. I call these inspiration points because while I pull references from them, I am not trying to set the story in these locations or be historically accurate to their cultures and traditions.

Having said that, there is a logical reason that the Egyptians dressed the way they dressed and built their homes in specific styles. Loose, linen clothing would be comfortable in the hot desert sun and mud brick buildings with thick walls and flat roofs make sense in an environment where the walls insulate and keep the inside of the home cool. There's no need for a steeply pitched roof if it never snows and hardly rains. At night, that becomes very pleasant additional living space if it's flat. You don't put your cooking oven inside your living space when your goal is to keep that area cool.

I'm also looking to historical references to add some realism to the technology of my world. Yes, there's magic and that will change significant parts of my cultures and their daily lives. But, it helps me to have a baseline and then consider how that changes society. In this story, I'm looking around 700-ish BCE. We're into the Iron Age but bronze is still commonly seen in weapons and tools. Steel is exceedingly rare. One of my mistakes already is thinking that archers would have been standard but as I research the Roman army of this time period, they actually had slings as their long range weapons. I hadn't at all considered dedicated spear men in addition to swordsmen but this was a staple for them. A massive part of my story is he founding of a whole new city, taking a dried up oasis and starting from scratch. I don't know how many fields a city needs to grow enough food or how the city would be laid out given that it is totally planned and not developing organically over time.

Which is why I'm now at my local library reviewing reference books on ancient Egypt and Rome. I'll use their traditional clothing to inspire my world's fashions. If the terms are obscure enough, I'll straight borrow them. I'm not ashamed of my references. I'm also looking at how their cities were laid out to add realism to my own. My Aethelians will try to build their new homes in the style of their homeland but that's not going to be livable in a new environment. Part of my story's drama is them making mistakes and learning to adapt. To do that, it helps to know how an Ancient Roman's home would look like and how that differs from those in Ancient Egypt.

How do you develop your cultures and countries?