#trying to uphold with constant content

[astralnymphh]

me and the rest of tloutopia if you even care…

AESTRABEAR new nickname acquired

[fawnindawn]

the line between thieves and healers (Luke Castellan x apollo fem! reader)

Summary: Luke Castellan returns from his quest as a ghost of his old self with a bleeding scar to prove it. With his golden boy exterior all but shattered, no one in camp has tried to approach him since his return. This changes when you stumble upon the son of Hermes when he decides to go back to his old roots, stealing from your infirmary at midnight.

pairing: luke castellan x apollo fem! reader

Content: forced proximity, tending to wounds, luke develops a little crush, set after Luke's failed quest in the Garden of Hesperides, mentions of injuries and scars, Luke tries and fails at being mean, hurt-comfort, fluff

masterlist for this series (everything in between) every part in this series can be read as a stand alone!

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"Come on." One of the campers prodded despite your obvious discomfort. "I'm sure you've squeezed something out of Castellan by now. He's been silent about what happened during his quest for days."

"I told you, I know nothing, and even if I did- patient confidentiality exists." You repeated for the ninth time in a week. Ever since people found out Luke had come personally to you to tend to his wounds, they had lost all decency over the hope of digging for some good gossip. If you were asked one more time, you were sure you would tell them to stick their noses right back up their asses and leave.

Even after his return, Luke Castellan remained a constant in word of mouth around camp over his sudden change in persona. His usual grin and charm was replaced with a dark gloom unfitting for the son of Hermes, who used to light up any room he entered. The scar that permanently rests on his face didn't make it easier for him to avoid watching eyes either. After refusing to play in Capture the Flag for the first time in history, whatever patience the camp was trying to uphold dissipated into chaos.

Sure, you could see why it was a big deal. If you're a person with a sane enough mind (of course, not guaranteed in the premises of Camp Half-Blood), you’d understand why the fellow camp counsellor of the Hermes Cabin was popular. With his constant presence around camp as the cool, attractive camp counsellor helping other campers with that small quirk up his lips, or through word of mouth of how talented and kind he was, it wasn't a huge surprise that he attracted as much attention as he did.

Once the ninth camper in a row finally gave up and left with a huff, your eyes lingered over the bed where you first tended to Luke.

_

It was the dead of night when you were woken by the sound of creaking wooden floorboards and the cold chill of the wind that had snuck into the infirmary. Somehow, you had overslept again on your shift and no one had bothered to wake you up or even check for your missing presence.

Groaning at the awkward shift of your bones from your horrible sleeping posture on the desk, you were halfway through your stretch to crack your stiff neck when you heard the sound of footsteps. Freezing in place, you paused to listen in once more only to heard the soft thud once again. Peering to the left side of the infirmary, your heart stopped.

"Hey, listen." You spoke with that awkward crack in your voice whenever you go too long without speaking, causing the large shadow to flinch, pausing in its pursuit through your medicine cabinet. "I may not seem like it, but I am the best in combat in my cabin so whoever you are, step away from the cabinet and put your hands up."

Gee, that's convincing, you sound like an unnamed extra from the first few minutes of a horror movie before they end up six feet under. Cursing yourself internally, you watched the shadow raise to full height from its bent position. Gulping at the height that seemed to be at least six feet, you wonder if you should have just left this cabinet thief be and go to sleep for the night.

Why would anyone even want to ransack an infirmary at midnight?

You quickly grabbed for your oil lamp situated beside you, still flickering with the smallest of flames and you stood from your chair, causing it to creak back and scratch at the wooden floors as you made your way around the table to approach the thief.

The light was dim, but you spotted the familiar outline of a broad back and curls before he even fully turned.

"Castellan?" You gasped in half-asleep shock, disbelief obvious in your tone as you moved the oil lamp nearer to prove your eyesight wasn't playing tricks on you.

He didn't respond verbally to the call of his name, but when he turned around, his eyes narrowed on you as if you were the intruder. You barely had the chance to form words, questions- before you spotted the dripping crimson liquid near his eye.

"Oh gods." You muttered, grabbing at his arm and tugging him towards the nearest bed. "Why didn't you wake me up? It's not like you could wrap this up yourself."

With some struggle, he finally gave in, plopping down the edge of the bed and watched you scour through the medicine cabinet for bandages and other supplies, muted and stiff.

"I seriously don't understand why you didn't wake me up. Would you rather bleed to death or get an infection?" You scolded, your inner concern bleeding through your usual sense of politeness for injured visitors.

"Maybe." You thought you heard him mumble, but when you turned to look at him, he was facing the window right beside the bed and staring out into the shadows of the forest, the glow of the moonlight illuminating his features like a haunted painting, blood dripping down his cheekbones like fallen tears. You waited longer for an elaboration but there was none. You assumed you heard wrong, or at least you hoped you did.

You got off your knees, splaying out the supplies on the surface of the bed beside him, and pulled up a stool for you to sit at. He was still facing away from you, and your irritation combined with your lack of sleep made you more reckless than you'd usually be with an injured patient.

You gripped at his chin, forcing him to look at you, watching with satisfaction as his eyes widened at the sudden force. He looked more alive when he was caught off guard, his face devoid of the usual disinterest and distance it had ever since he arrived back from his quest.

"How do you expect me to treat you if you keep looking away from me, Castellan?" You challenged, gazing back into his eyes with fire you hoped was fierce enough to break down the coldness in his gaze.

After seconds of nothing but two stubbornheads trying to win a useless battle of eye contact, he sighed. "..Fine."

You were more gentle after that, letting go of his chin and reaching for the cloth. Your hands remained delicate on his skin that seemed to have pulled at the edge of the scar, where it was now bleeding again through its previous stitches. You mumbled a warning before dapping a wet handkerchief on top of the wound to soak in the blood, and he unintentionally grabbed at your thigh as he tried not to hiss out in pain.

You froze at the sudden tight grip, moving the cloth away from his skin and he was quick to retract his hand, positioning it awkwardly on top of the bedsheets instead.

"It's okay if you grab me." You reassured. "It'd be easier for me to gauge if you need me to stop when it gets too painful. You could give me a squeeze if you need a breather?"

You waited, watching his thoughts flicker through his narrowed eyes before slowly, his hand went to rest around your thigh again.

Ignoring the warmth of his palm on your skin, you cleared your throat. "Ready?"

He nodded stiffly, and you went back to work. After the cut had stopped bleeding, you were quick to grab the gauze and bandages. Tenderly, you placed the gauze above his wound, then wrapped the bandages around his face, from the top of his head to below his chin. This was the closest you had ever been to him, and you could feel and hear both his and your breathing in the quiet silence of the infirmary, with no living signs of life aside from the two of you on the infirmary bed and the dim orange hue of the oil lamp.

You could feel his intense gaze on you from his one good eye, while you concentrated on tying a secure knot so it wouldn't fall loose. The moment felt oddly intimate, knowing how sensitive his temper had been ever since he arrived back at camp, scarred in ways not even ambrosia could heal fully.

His hand resting around your thigh felt hot, and you tried to ignore how your mind subconsciously kept track of every time his thumb would brush over the material of your pants.

"Next time.." You hinted, hopefully not crossing his boundaries. "If this happens again, you come straight here, got it? I don't care if I'm sleeping or attending someone else. You are not allowed to take care of a wound like this yourself, especially since I remember how reckless you can be."

Luke Castellan may be an excellent swordsman, but his cockiness was one weakness that he failed to keep controlled, and on days where it won over, he would always end up at the infirmary with a bashful smile as he tried to explain to you on how he ended up with a dislocated shoulder. That felt like eons ago, when that cheeky smile would always be present on his face, his signature move in getting away with any chaos he caused.

Staring at him now, you caught sight of that smile for such a split second you could've sworn you mistook it.

You couldn't stop the teasing smile that slipped past your stern attitude. "Was that a smile I saw, Castellan?"

He cleared his throat, his face falling back into practiced nonchalance, wearing a frown too forced to be real. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I may be sleep-deprived because a certain someone decided midnight was the best time to ransack an infirmary, but I'm not blind. For making me work overtime, I at least deserve to know what you found so amusing."

He made a face, and you were sure if his face wasn't tightly bandaged, he would roll his eyes in exasperation. "I wasn't amused. Just don't remember you being this.. unhospitable with someone that's injured. And I am not reckless."

You scoffed, causing him to look over at you. "I'd say trying to steal from an infirmary is pretty reckless. I thought Hermes kids were supposed to be good in stealing?"

You realised all too late that you may have touched on a sensitive topic, with the mention of his father, but he didn't seem to notice over the frank insult of being called a bad thief.

"I am excellent in stealing." He bit back so quickly, you choked on a snort. Hermes kids and their egos. "I was just going easy on you because you were knocked out at your desk. Oh, and you snore, you know that?"

"I do not."

"Do too."

"You're a liar and a thief. Don't get why your reputation is as marvelled upon as it is, Castellan. You don't live up to the hype at all."

"Oh, and what about you, Miss Sunshine?" He retorted. "Aren't you suppose to be the famous sweetheart who sings all injuries away with a smile on your face?"

"Don't call me that ever again." You must have looked extremely repulsed because he let out a laugh so genuine, it wiped any disgust off your face at the sound of pure heaven flooding into your ears. God, you forgot he could laugh like that.

"Yeah, I suppose it doesn't suit you, does it?" He murmured. "Maybe Apollo kids are only nice when others are around to see it."

"You've only come back meaner, Castellan." You scoffed. "I almost regret helping you. Would much rather see you stumble over trying to deal with this yourself if I knew you'd be so ungrateful."

"Sounds righteous of you." He nodded with a sarcastic hum. "Leaving me to bleed out to death while you watch. I understand why the camp has such high stakes when it comes to survival now. Never knew there was a sadist hiding in you, sunshine."

"I told you not to call me that." You reminded. "And I'm doing the best I can to keep everyone here alive so don't come to my infirmary talking about stakes when I've just saved your ass from blood loss."

Your response triggered something in him and he grew silent, his gaze locked on you as if analyzing you. That was when you're really reminded of how awful you must've looked. With your bed hair, sunken-in dark circles and sunken shoulders from the lack of sleep, you did not exactly feel the most confident. You didn't know what happened to make the casual atmosphere disappear as fast as it did, but you were anxious that somehow, you had shut him up again and you'd never get the chance to see him that way again, with his playful banter and light-heartedness of a teenage boy that he should have.

"You shouldn't have to." He muttered, almost to himself rather than to you. A seriousness unlike the previous few quips he'd thrown at you took ahold of him, and you had a feeling this was a slither of who he had really become through his rapid transformation, hidden under the jokes and sarcasm.

"What?"

"You shouldn't have to." He repeated a little louder, trying to get you to see his point. A point he'd been trying to tell Chiron, his friends even- ever since he came back here, only to be meet with pitying looks like he was a madman who spoke nonsense to try and make sense of his failure. "Lives should not be your responsibility. You're younger than me, and yet, you're dealing with kids that are near death's door every time they make it past that barrier. I barely made it back here. Some don't even.."

Luke tried to breathe, remembering how he got to camp in the first place. The unnecessary sacrifice that had to be made, the tree that now rests at the barrier of camp, the sound of thunder and pouring rain beating at his face.

"Now, I'm stuck with this disgusting scar on my face for the rest of my life, a stupid reminder every single time I look at myself, that I failed my only chance at proving I was something more than just wasted potential. Now I've gone and screwed it up for everyone because I couldn't do some easy quest someone else already accomplished-" He winced suddenly, grabbing onto the bandaged part of his face that seemed to grow more irritated and inflamed as he spoke.

You were quick to reach for his hand, knowing his aggression may harm the wound more. "It is not disgusting." You answered for him, and slowly, your hand rested over his, removing it from his face so he wouldn't accidentally cause the wound to start bleeding again. "You are not a failure, Luke."

"Don't take pity on me by saying words you don't mean." He muttered. "Everyone expected me to succeed, I could feel it in their gaze when they looked at me. I was supposed to be the best, and just because everyone told me that, I believed it. Now, I'm nothing but a disappointment to everyone."

He didn't know why he was saying all this to you. Maybe because you were the only person to treat him normally in the past two weeks, to really listen instead of trying to get him to move on, and maybe because his heart felt like it was growing too heavy to carry on his own. The insecurity and vulnerability made him feel sick, and he found himself trying to tear his hands away from you out of the need to run, which only made him feel more disgusted with himself. Like a coward, his mind taunted.

You remained stubborn, holding onto his cold palms because you know he has had no warmth, no real genuine words spoken to him since he returned. No one to see him when it was clear he was suffering, that he needed all the time in the world and more to heal, and that he deserved more than self-loathing and an absent father who sentenced him to this fate.

"I am not pitying you." You insisted, and you leaned closer so he couldn't look away from you. "Your scar does not make you ugly or less valuable to anyone. It is not pity, it is a fact. You are a person who has survived a fate so close to death, and any feat to survive death is strength. You are strong, and you made it back here alive with a scar to prove it. It is not a sign of weakness."

"Anyone who tells you different has no right or say in your situation because they did not go through what you did." You said with a stern voice, your anger not towards him, but for him. "Not your father, not anyone."

Luke finally looked at you, like looked. His eyes were scanning all over your face as if not quite believing you were real, but the fire in your eyes was so magnetic, he couldn't look away. The pinch between your brows, the addictive warmth of your hands in his, and the close distance between the two of you, and yet, it didn't make his skin itch with the need to pull away. To hide in his corner and wallow over the heavy weight of knowing his world had ended in the Garden of the Hesperides. Or had it?

Your eyes looked right through him, and for once, he felt like there was someone there for him.

"I suppose I can see where your reputation comes from now, sunshine." He responded weakly, and his heart gave a thump when you smiled back at him.

"Healing's what I understand best." You shrugged casually, as if you didn't just silence his thoughts for a moment of peace, or that you have somehow dulled the internal blades that bled with self-hatred and world-consuming anger pointed at himself, and at the injustice of the gods who could not give a damn about their children. “If I can help you even a little, why shouldn’t I?”

He could feel time ticking again in the back of his mind, the night slowly passing into a new one, and he thinks as he holds your gaze, that maybe this world wouldn't be so painful to live in if he had someone to look at him the way you did.

"I don't know how I'm going to go back to normal. Or if I'll ever be normal again." He admitted, softer in his voice now that his mind didn't deem you as a threat.

"Normal can be lots of things." You said with a comforting smile. "It's normal to have a breakdown when you've nearly faced death. Multiple even. It's normal to feel fine one moment then not in the next. Healing isn't linear, and when you come to terms that you have a right to feel upset and a right to exist without being held to any expectations of others or what you think others want from you, it'll feel easier to just allow yourself to exist throughout the day. Not the perfect camp counsellor or a hero with no faults. Just as yourself."

He let your words sink in, his thumbs subconsciously rubbing over your knuckles, feeling the healed scars of your own from what he assumed must be from previous combat training. "I'm not that great as myself. You might find me disappointing."

You quirked your lips at that, and shook your head. "I don't believe in that one bit. You're already great just as you are now."

He raised a brow. "Even after trying to steal from your infirmary and having a mental breakdown past curfew?"

"Well, just be glad I was around because I'm much more understanding than Will would be with four hours of sleep."

"I am glad." He insisted. "That it's you."

"I'm glad it was me too." You reassured. "It is midnight though and there's Capture the Flag tomorrow, meaning someone's going to end up whining and moping in here in about eight hours so why don't you let me close shop and come by tomorrow, Castellan?"

"Luke." He corrected, giving you a smile you're sure must be the one the other campers rave about all the time. The charming one that made your heart stutter, even with half his face bandaged and eyebags resting below his caramel eyes.

"Luke." You tested it on your tongue tentatively, and it only seemed to spark an electricity between the two of you that you were sure he must've felt too. In the dark corner of the infirmary, with nothing but crickets and your hushed voice, you spoke again with a heavy heart when you needed to tell him to leave. "I have to close this place up or someone else might try and steal from the medicine cabinet, not that I thought it was possible before but.."

"Fine." He complied, getting off the bed and rising to his full height, towering over you and blocking the moonlight from your view. "I'll wait outside and walk you back to your cabin. It's the least I could do."

You tried not to seem too elated over the idea that you could spend a little more time with Luke, though you're sure your glowing smile must've shown. "Sure you're not just trying to improve your image around me, thief?"

He smirked, following you out to the front door while you wrestled for the keys in your pocket to lock up for the night. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

_

"What are you smiling about?"

You looked up from your daze to see Luke leaning over the door frame, watching you with a smirk over his face.

"Can't a girl smile just for the sake of it?" You bit back, cheeks flushing at the idea that he could've possibly seen your focus lingering a little too long on the bed he had sat on. "Why'd you drop out of Capture the Flag? You know your cabin's going to lose their streak to Ares at this point."

"Wanted to see someone." He replied with a shrug, pushing off the door frame to walk towards where you sat, leaning over your desk and watching you compile the latest stock of ambrosia into a box. "Plus, Athena and Hermes are joining for today so Annabeth's got it handled."

He shuffled his fingers along the edge of the table, outlining the curve before clearing his throat. "I heard you covering up for me just now, and I wanted to say thank you."

You looked up at him then, and his eyes seemed to convey that he was thanking you for more than just that. He looked like he wanted to say more, but didn’t know how to.

"Eavesdropping on me now?” You teased. “Careful or you might end up becoming obsessed with a poor, overworked healer."

He scoffed exaggeratedly. "You wish. Just take the thank you. Should've known not to show my gratitude to an Apollo kid."

You stuck your tongue out at him before going on about how mind-blowing it can be that some kids really did not have emotional intelligence when it came to basic decency. Listening to you ramble on as you went on to arrange your first aid kits, Luke realised for all the disappointment he has experienced in his life, maybe there was one good thing his father led him to.

a/n: Couldn't resist writing how this duo met because I live and die for banter. inspired by 'my reputation's never been worse so you must like me for me' trope which is what i live and breathe for. His reputation as the perfect golden boy is in shambles, and sunshine couldn't care less.

taglist: @stars4birdie @elysiandumbash @kehlanislefttoe @mqg125 @madzlovez @0revna0 @auroraofthesun1 @idli-dosa @buubsii @kaylasficrecs @that-daughter-of-hephaestus @itsdragonius @moonlightfoxs-cantina

[redwinewhiteroses]

What are your future spouse's qualities? 🧡💛🧡👰🤵👼

Masterlist

Purple butterfly

First of all I'm seeing your fs is a social butterfly. Very very outgoing, radiant and lively. They might feel really content with themselves so they reflect this warm peaceful celebratory joy into the world. They might nurture and foster connections with people from a very genuine place in their hearts often times celebrating people and their loved ones.

Your fs might be a very strong and resilient person. They will put up a good fight to defend their loved ones. They might also be protective of you and your children and will defend you like a warrior. Your fs will face challenges head on and will be really courageous. They will always stand up for what they believe in.

Your fs might be highly skilled and a master manifestor. They get what they want and they possess the power to create what they want. They might be charismatic and will really stand out in a crowd. They might be skilled at multiple different things, could be a jack of all trades and will most definitely be good at all those things.

They are very well put together and will have a commanding presence. They must be super confident about themselves. They might value  and respect people and will demand to be treated the same way. Your fs could be a CEO or an entrepreneur.

Your fs might be very intellectual. They have a strong sense of self and not easily swayed by things. They might not be emotional as much, definitely more inclined to logical thinking. They might really value honest and clear communication. Honesty could be a priority to them. They might have a zest for life. A hardworker, creative and analytical could be some of their most prominent qualities. Your fs could be well accomplished in life and could be quite independent on their own. Could uphold positions of power and definitely commands a lot of respect from others.

Random messages : Enchanting, Ask and you will have it, I'm sorry, Wit and humor/Gemini/Sagittarius, Forest retreat, Soul's desire, Mystic, It's always you, Hope for something more, Going with the flow, Try again, Forgive and forget

Vibes they give off : Harvey Specter from Suits

Blue butterfly

Your fs could be a bit of a loner. They would fight for what they want even if they are the last one standing. Might have a win at all costs attitude. On the downside they will be quite cold and people could resent them sometimes. They might be a bit aggressive and get involved in conflicts easily. They could possess a sharp intellect and see things through. They might make enemies or get on the bad side of people. They could be a bit manipulative and will try to have the last word on anything and everything. Could be a fighter and a tough cookie. They could go by the motto 'Never back down, Never give up' .

Your fs is very introspective and will be on a constant journey of self discovery. They might seek a deeper meaning in life. They might be disatisfied with the circumstances of their life and will try to reinvent themselves and will desire to find more authentic experiences in life. They might not be driven by material rewards but rather value experiences and constant evolution beyond the material realm.

Your fs could be a bit restless and impatient. They might be facing delays and obstacles in creating their desired reality. They could face a few setbacks in life which will create a sense of disappointment in themselves.

Your fs might struggle to give and receive care and affection to some degree. They have this inner turmoil which restricts their nurturing side. They might be dealing with mental health struggles or stress might be a major theme in their life. They might be a bit possessive and act from a place of low self esteem. They could struggle with issues related to self worth and lack of purpose.

This might just be a major theme in their life during a significant time frame in their life. Nothing is set in stone. This is the current energies of your fs. This is not a final verdict. Remember life goes on constantly, redefining things and situations day by day. So have hope that things will get better eventually.

Random messages : Light hair, Yes, Sail the seas, I want to control/Mars/Aries/Charge, Love, Damsel in distress, Wait for me, Ill will, Love is light

Vibes they give off : Professor Snape from HP

Green butterfly

Your fs might have a difficulty of letting go of things that no longer serve them. They could hold on to the past and resist change. They might display feelings of nostalgia, regret and fear the uncertain. They could hold onto things for their emotional significance and memories. They could reminisce about their childhood often and may have an emotional attachment to their past due to some reason. Your fs can be someone who thinks they were born in the wrong generation. They might love vintage stuff and lifestyles from a different era. They could feel a bit out of place in the dynamics of the present world. They might have an interest in history, archaeology or philosophy. For some of you, your fs could be a librarian, anthropologist or a historian. They could be a bit restless and indecisive. They could be prone to overthinking and running in circles.

They could possess strong traditional values and beliefs. They could be a mentor, a teacher, professor, a guide or a coach. They can have some outdated beliefs as well. They could hold onto long-held traditions and practices to the point they will resist evolving. They could be a bit impractical and stubborn. They could be a conservative person, maybe religious, wise and emotionally stable. They might be well respected among people and seen as a dependable figure. They could even be a religious leader. They can be significantly older than you or very mature beyond their age. They have a love for traditions. They consider courting, marriage and commitment very seriously. They value stability, practicality and has a strong moral compass and will hold people accountable. They value morals, good intentions and values. They might have an ethnic background or might have some special cultural practices. They could be from generational wealth, true old money. They really do have some unique structure in their life kinda like old, refined, antique and of deep value. They might drive a vintage car. For some your fs could even be living in a mansion or has an estate.

Your fs might be recovering from a heartbreak, a past sorrow or pain. Maybe they lost someone who was quite influential in his life like a grandparent, a teacher or a parent figure. Maybe that's the reason of your fs looking back into the past. They have newfound strength and overcoming emotional pain. Your fs's emotional journey is marked by a gradual release of sorrow and an embrace of healing and growth. They could be a counselor, therapist or even a writer. People might be inspired by your fs's journey of overcoming pain and past hurts. Your fs could be inspiring people to be stronger by sharing their story or personal experiences. They may be guiding others to overcome emotional conflicts.

Your fs might have a zest for life. They can be incredibly passionate about life. They can be lively and active. They're passionate, optimistic and might take risks and have a thrill for life. They possess leadership qualities and a strong desire for actions. They are assertive and takes initiative. They might lead your relationship and I'm seeing wise leadership. They'll believe in traditional gender roles and will provide emotional security and material stability in the relationship. Your fs respects you and loves you in a gentle but passionate way.

Random messages : Cute romance, Sweet kiss, No way, Running with the wolves, Sour cream, Say something, You are on the right path, Aphrodite, I'm wondering why, Harmonious, Diabolical, Fruitfulness

Vibes they give off :

Thomas Shelby from Peaky Blinders

Edward Cullen from Twilight

Red butterfly

Your fs might be a really strong individual. Definitely good looking and charismatic. Will most likely have a commanding presence. We got two kings here and the magician. Your fs will defend their loved ones like a warrior. They will face challenges head on and won't fear fighting for what they truly believe in.

Your fs might be a bit closed off at first. They can have their guard up. They might also not see their truest potential. I think they underestimate themselves constantly and might feel trapped by their own mental chains. They tend to feed their own mental limitations. But I think they are capable of more, they just don't see that for themselves.

Your fs might motivate people around them. They will encourage you with words of affirmation all the time. They definitely have a strong sense of self assurance and will be in control. They can be tall and charismatic and extremely good looking. Might have a great sex appeal. They are very driven (might have high libido) courageous and passionate. They have a warm hearted nature. For some of you guys, your fs can be a CEO, entrepreneur, self-accomplished businessman, creative director or an authoritative figure.

Your fs might be fiercely competitive. They like to test their own limits. Might enjoy dangerous hobbies and martial arts. They might enjoy physical fights or activities that require strength and endurance. They might be really good in bed if you know what I mean. They can go for a few rounds at a time without getting tired. Extremely passionate and strong. They can be quite passionate in arguments as well so it's better to solve problems without delay. They might like competing with others and they thrive in competitive environments. Your fs will be in the spotlight and they stand out in any crowd. They could a sportsperson for some you guys.

Your fs is highly skilled in many things. They are really creative. Might be good with their hands. They will be a very well put together person. Will have a good sense of style and a knack for aesthetics.

Your fs can be mature and have a zest for life. They are passionate about living life you know. They might enjoy hiking, vacations and experiencing new things. Your fs is really really wealthy and abundant. They might be successful or even famous. They have a lot of achievements under their belt. They are incredibly protective of their loved ones and have a strong sense of responsibility towards them. They are secure in themselves and people can easily rely on them. They might build a lasting legacy with you. They could be working in finance or real estate.

You guys could have a lavish wedding and you also might live in a beautiful home. Your marriage will be stable and quite passionate.

Random messages : Christmas time, Haphazard, Miraculous, Count to three, Eat up, Love and care, Why do you avoid me?, What do you want?, It's easier when you sleep

Vibes they give off : Christian Grey from Fifty Shades

Nick from My fault

Thanks for joining me!

[captainthisshipinmyhead]

Terms of Agreement

Giyuu x Fem!Reader

You'd agreed to a friends with benefits type of situation with Tomioka, thinking that it would be easy to keep feelings out of it. How stupid of you.

Warnings: SMUT, slight angst, fluff, possibly basic and overdone plot, poorly written fight scenes, use of y/n if you don't like that, Giyuu is cold to you but not too mean bc he is a sweetie :(

WC: 5,262

!! This contains SMUT!!! DO NOT INTERACT if you are a minor!

A/N: Hi hi, as I said in my previous post this is my first fanfic in like 11ish years and only my second fanfic ever so I'm excited to post it. I've never written smut or combat scenes before, which... may be obvious lol. I'm open to feedback, but please be nice. I hope you enjoy. <3

“If you insist on this, it has to be without meaning.” 

Those were the words the Water Hashira spoke to you just before you agreed to a friends with benefits situation with him. Your attraction to each other upon meeting was practically palpable; something had to be done about it. It clearly wasn’t a one-sided attraction either, as the typically elusive Pillar never fled from a room you were in, seeking your eyes at corps meetings, and seemed to be content conversing with you when you decided to chat with him over meals. His eyes rested on your lips when you spoke, and when he thought you weren’t looking they dipped lower. This continued until you finally ran into him outside of a secluded onsen and, figuring bluntness would be the best way to approach this subject since it would pretty much be awkward either way, blurted out that you would like to sleep with him if he were interested. After a stunned silence, he nodded his head, wide eyed and pink-cheeked.

Tomioka’s original terms of this agreement were simply that no feelings were involved and that you kept this arrangement a secret from the other members of the demon slayer corps. Terms you agreed to without hesitation as you assumed that they would be easy to uphold, and the both of you were wound up tightly with need of an outlet. Unfortunately, it seems that any similar instances in the past that you were reflecting on when making this decision were not at all similar to the one you found yourself in with Tomioka. With Tomioka, your growing feelings for him became undeniable quickly. 

All it took was your first night together for you to become putty in his hands- his soft caresses, gentle words, and deep eye contact throughout the whole encounter had you breathless. You had never experienced such tenderness from any romantic partner in the past. You had to practically repeat a mantra to yourself the entire time- no feelings, no feelings, no feelings. It had been futile, proven the next morning when you roused from dreams of being lovingly held in Tomioka’s arms in front of a golden sunset. Ever since that night six months ago, you had been hooked. Try as you might, you couldn’t shake the near-constant thoughts of being more than a hookup with him. You blushed when he made eye contact with you at training sessions, and when he entered a room you had to excuse yourself for fear of him being able to hear how embarrassingly loud your heart was beating. At least in your nighttime trysts, that could be chalked up to the physicality you were experiencing...

You managed to keep your arrangement a secret from other demon slayer corps, though you had run into Shinobu a few times as you returned in the early morning to your room in her mansion to freshen up for the day. She sometimes questioned your whereabouts, sometimes just gave you a sly smirk, though she never asked too many intrusive questions, so you were able to remain tightlipped.

As you walked leisurely back toward your room at the butterfly mansion to retire for the evening you were confronted with Tomioka’s crow stopping short in front of you, flapping to stay upright while he delivered a simple message:

Please report to the Water Hashira residence. One hour.

As quickly as he had come, he flapped off into the direction of his master’s mansion, where you now knew you’d be heading to shortly as well. You continued you way to your room with a quickness to your gait that wasn’t present before. Once you’d had some time in your room to freshen up and gather a few essential items you wished to take with you, you hurried on your way to Tomioka’s mansion.

When you arrived, the front gate of Tomioka’s estate was unlocked and you let yourself in. He stood waiting to greet you on his engawa with a pursing of his lips (meant to be a smile) and a nod. You blushed and cast your eyes downward as you crossed his courtyard.

“You look pretty.” 

You raised your eyes to Tomioka as you heard his words, now only a few steps away from him. It wasn’t uncommon for him to compliment you when you were alone; after all, of course he found you attractive if you’d entered into such a situation with him.

“Thank you,” you practically whispered, a blush gracing your full cheeks.

Seeing your reaction, Tomioka’s smile that resembled more of a grimace relaxed into something genuine. He gently looped his pinky in yours and tugged you toward the direction of his bedroom.

As soon as you stepped through the doors and slid them shut behind you, his lips were on yours.. Your eyes fluttered closed, and he softly cupped one cheek as his other arm pulled you in tightly by the waist. Sweet pecks gave way to sensual kissing, as his tongue began to prod at the seam of your lips. You opened up for him without hesitation, just like usual.

He kissed you like he’d been waiting for you much longer than three days, when you’d last been a nighttime guest at his residence.

He kissed you sometimes as if he were making love to you—all your clothes were on but the sensuality of his lips and tongue pulled moans from your throat and goosebumps to the surface of your skin as if you were already naked beneath him.

You’d never get tired of this, not as long as the two of you had this arrangement. Kissing him was sometimes almost better than the sex itself. Almost.

He pulled back, breathless, and looked you in the eyes, giving you another shy smile. You returned his expression, unable to resist his kind face. You nodded toward his futon and began taking steps toward it.

Back hitting the mattress, Tomioka leaned down over you once again in search of your lips. As you made out, you hands pushed his haori off of his shoulders, and his fingers deftly pulled at the ties to your yukata. You both made quick work of each other’s clothing and soon enough his fingers were traveling down, down, down until they reached your sex and teasingly ran up your slit.

You gasped into his mouth as he circled your clit, and he ducked his head down to suck on the sensitive spot beneath your ear.

“To- Tomi-,” you tried to gasp out, but he quickly kissed you again, shutting you up.

“What did I tell you to call me?” He rasped, continuing to rub your clit.

“Giyuu, Giyuu please,” you corrected.

“Please what? What do you want baby, say it.”

“Y-your mouth. Please Giyuu, I need you there. Please,” you continued to beg, but he kissed down your neck between his responses, clearly not intending on granting your wish.

“C’mon sweetheart, you know you’ve gotta say it. Where do you want my mouth?”

You were practically whining; you were embarrassingly close already.

“Please eat my pussy Giyuu, please, I need your mouth.”

“Good girl.”

Then he was down at your core, mouth on you faster than you could blink. He pushed your thighs apart, devouring your wetness as if it were water and he’d been in the desert all day. His tongue expertly flicked between your clit and your entrance, and your eyes rolled back in your head at the sensation. There was a reason you’d beg for his mouth-- he knew how to please you this way. Your hips wriggled without any sort of rhythm, unknowing what it is they were in search of-- just wanting more more more… He pulled your legs on top of his shoulders, caging his head in, and pressed a palm flat and firm against your lower stomach to still your frantic movements. His other hand tickled its way up your sensitive stomach and pinched a nipple, rolling it between deft fingers.

“Giyuu I- I’m gonna-“

“Go on,” He mumbled against your clit, lips brushing against it with every word.

The timbre of his voice sent you over the edge. He continued to lap at your entrance through your release. As your shivers of pleasure subsided, you reached out to him, curling your fingers toward your upper half in an indication for him to come back up to your face. He complied, once again sealing your lips with his, now coated in your flavor. He sighed and you moaned into the kiss, both grinding your hips into one another, always aching for more.

You pressed your fingers tips onto his chest and dragged them downward, until you reached his belt. When you got it unbuckled he helped push his pants down his hips; just as eager to feel you as you were him. He positioned himself at your entrance and looked into your eyes as if asking if it was okay. You nodded and surged upward for another peck to his lips; you couldn’t help it. He pressed in- you didn’t feel any pain; only pleasure despite his girth. You’d long ago been carved out to the shape of him, as your nighttime visits never went longer than maybe 5 days between.

Your breath caught in your throat as he sank all the way in, cervix stopping his tip. His eyes squeezed shut as he muttered,

“Y/n….you’re s-so tight, so wet f’me.”

You didn’t try to hold back your moan at the praise, and his head sank into your shoulder as he began to move.

His thrusts were languid and deep, you were whimpering each time he bottomed out. Your legs wrapped around his waist and pulled him closer. Though missionary was basic, you both enjoyed being like this; faces buried into each other’s hair, chests touching as you both breathe heavily in each other’s ears. The intimacy of it all was something you both craved, though you don’t think either of you would admit it out loud.

Giyuu rose up briefly to hook the back of your knees with his arms, planting his hands on the bed and folding you up nearly in half. He got even deeper inside you this way, and you couldn’t help the pathetically loud moans at the new angle.

His groans next to your ear while he fucked you in this new position caused you to tighten around him, building you toward your second orgasm. He took notice of the way you clenched tighter than before, a dead giveaway you were going to finish soon. He increased his speed and worked a hand between your tightly pressed bodies to circle your clit again, just the way you like.

Your hands flew to his shoulders, gripping him tightly at the stimulation. You couldn’t help the way your nails dug into his skin, probably leaving marks; everything felt too good.

Your peak hit you, causing you to tighten your legs around his hips, though he didn’t slow the pace of his thrusts or his fingers. As you came, you could only make garbled noises of praise, whispers and whimpers combining his name with affirmations of so good sprinkled in.

Giyuu, who had been holding his own orgasm off with great effort on his part, began to nearly whine as he came deep inside you, giving a couple more thrusts before he went limp above you and nuzzled into your warmth.

You savored this: Giyuu breathing into your neck and your hearts beating against each other’s, both of you coming down from your high, arms and legs tangled…. It was routine to lay together like this as both of your breathing slowed back down, and though it was truly just a resting period meant for recovery it felt like love. Knowing that it wasn’t an embrace with real emotion behind it sucked, but you took it selfishly each time all the same.

After a few moments your breaths had slowed, and Giyuu removed himself from you and went to fetch a warm cloth to clean up the remnants of both of your releases from between your legs. He tossed it to the side when finished, returning again to your side as he pulled you into an embrace.

This part was what really made you feel like maybe there was some emotion behind what the two of you had. Surely if he didn’t harbor feelings for you as well he would send you on your way back to your residence, right? In your experience with guys before him, they didn’t care so much about aftercare once they finished. They made it clear that your shared night was a one night stand and that you were not to get comfortable enough to stay until morning. You pondered this as Giyuu nuzzled his face further into your neck, pressing kisses lightly to the skin there. His arm lay across your chest, and his hand tanlged in your hair on the other side of your head. He twirled strands lazily around his fingers—the picture of contentment.

Surely... surely this level of comfort is only achieved with someone who you feel romantic emotions toward, right? Since your directness is usually a trait of yours that your value, and what had gotten you into your current position, you made your mind up that it was once again the best course of action to speak up and say what was flitting across your brain.

“Giyuu...”

“Hmmmm?” He hums lazily in response, not loosening his grip on you.

“I... I think I, well... Um, I think I maybe have feelings for you. Like, romantic feelings. I mean like, I’m sure that’s kind of obvious, given.... y’know, but I mean I want-“

You’re cut off by Giyuu sitting up sharply, head turning away from you to face the small windows letting in moonlight from high on his bedroom wall. You immediately miss his warmth and your mind floods with worry, knowing that you said something wrong.

“We can’t do this anymore.” 

He said it with such finality, your heart sank low into the pit of your stomach. This is why you worried- Giyuu, such a hard person to get to know, hard person to read, can easily cut ties at a moment’s notice. You figured it’s probably for this reason that he kept himself at a distance from others; it makes everything having to do with emotions so much easier.

 “N-no, Giyuu- Giyuu why? I don’t- I don’t want to-“ you work on stammering out a reply, while he shakes his head and begins to turn back toward you, wearing a stern expression.

“We have to, y/n. This isn’t healthy for either of us. I think I may have given you the wrong idea about what this is and I.... For that I apologize. But this can’t continue any longer.”

His eyes never met your face as he said this. Your mouth opened in response, but no sound came out.

“Y/n... I think it’s best that I take you to my guest room. I won’t let you leave now in the middle of the night, but I don’t think it’s wise to share a bed tonight considering these circumstances.”

He stood, pulling his pants back on and folding the blankets back so that you could get up too. Your legs somehow felt like lead and like jelly at the same time so it took you a few seconds longer than it normally would have to stand and re-dress yourself. Giyuu stood by silently, facing the door to the room, waiting for you to follow him out.

You walked without speaking, without hardly breathing even, not wanting to make any noise for fear of upsetting him further and making him change his mind about letting you stay. Not like you couldn’t hold your own, but you’d prefer not to go toe-to-toe with any demons tonight given how fragile your emotional state is. Giyuu stopped in front of a door and slid it open, gesturing for you to step inside. You stepped past him, trying not to tear up as you looked at the floor.

“Please don’t hesitate to come get me if you need anything tonight, Y/n. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, or at least not any more than you probably are.” You could feel his eyes boring into your face.

“Y/n, please say something. Anything you want to say to me, I’ll take it. If you’re angry, I understand.”

You still stood silently, trying to regulate your breathing and formulate a response. You finally came up with something to say, but it wasn’t anywhere near all that you wanted to express to him.

“After tonight, please just leave me alone. I can’t be friends with you after this... after all of this. Thank you for letting me stay. I’m going to lay down now.”

“Y/n....” he trailed off, his expression having softened as you spoke.

“It’s probably best that you don’t address me that way anymore. We don’t know each other intimately anymore and we won’t be able to remain friends, so please address me accordingly.”

Giyuu’s eyes dropped before he nodded and turned his back to you, making toward the door. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think his eyes glistened with emotion. He paused briefly on his way out, to say once more to come get him if you needed anything tonight, then he slid the doors to your temporary residence shut.

As soon as you lay your head onto the pillow of the plain and neat futon you began to cry. You cried until you exhausted yourself and fell into a deep sleep.

It had been two weeks since you’d left Tomioka’s house in the early morning, holding back a fresh wave of tears. You hadn’t seen him except for a couple of brief sightings of him at group training sessions at the houses of other hashiras. You did well at avoiding his gaze, choosing instead to channel the anger and hurt you felt over how you had ended into maximizing the power of your attacks. You had received a few letters from his crow within the first week of your separation, but you tossed them into the fires needed by Aoi to cook dinners since you often helped her prepare the kitchen in the evening for meals.

Shinobu was the first to notice that you weren’t staying out all night at some mystery location anymore. “No midnight rendezvous tonight?” She questioned you cheekily after the first few days, an eyebrow raised teasingly. You had tried to respond with a short no, but you were so choked up at the wave of emotion that ensued that you could only look at your feet and shake your head. Shinobu became concerned as you stayed shut in your room night after night, sometimes skipping dinner with everyone. The other girls in the mansion noticed that you were not acting as your typical chipper self and tried to get you to confide in them in attempts at easing your sadness, but you refused to speak about the source of your heartbreak.

By the third week, the pain lingering in your heart had subsided to a dull ache that only turned stabbing at the sight of him, or the thought of him, or the mention of his name. You were relieved when you received word that you were being sent on a mission to a nearby village with reports of children being stolen from their beds at night. Your strength and agility had improved with the increase in your training intensity, so you felt more than ready to take on this task and save the lives of the innocent village children.

You had been on the mission for 2 days without finding any trace of the demon. This confused you; this was a low level demon and they often were clumsy and unable to disguise themselves cleverly from slayers. You strolled seemingly aimlessly, twisting and turning down paths between homes and shops that were all locked up for the night, seeing nothing with each survey of the streets. As you turned what felt like your thousandth corner, you froze.

There was a demon standing at the end of this alley, back turned to you. He was just standing, like he were waiting for someone. How hadn’t you sensed it? You knew it had to have heard you approaching, but you still took slow and quiet steps to close the distance between the two of you. Your body was tense as you prepared to launch into an attack, hand at the ready on your nichirin blade.

Just as you got within blade’s distance of the towering figure, it whipped around, long taloned hand stretched to you, and slammed your body into a nearby wall.

Ouch. You mentally scolded yourself for not being faster on your feet, but then again you’d never fought a demon with such speed before either. You couldn’t even take a breath as you stood up because it already had its claws wrapped around your torso, lifting you high above his head. You had somehow managed to hold onto your blade, so you slashed with all the force you could muster at the demon’s head and neck. You were able to inflict a deep wound in the creature’s face, though of course not fatal. Its grip on you loosed, and you were able to wriggle out of its grasp and drop back down on your feet to the ground below.

At this point, you locked in and began fighting the demon with a vigor you’d never had on missions before. Your recent heartbreak fueled a new passion in you that strengthened your grip on your sword and sharpened your mind to form battle strategies. You were able to slash wildly and accurately enough with your blade that you had backed the demon into a corner in its retreat, crouching as it reformed the arm you had slashed off seconds ago. It appeared you had the upper hand, so you raised your sword for the killing blow while the demon was looking at his new limb regrowth.

Suddenly, a scorching hot pain consumed your left side. The demon had scored large and deep cuts across your torso while you had been too focused on its other arm and hitting its neck. You muttered a curse—both at the demon and at yourself for your failure—and fell to the ground. Your ears rang and your eyes blurred, mouth filling with cotton as you lay on the ground. You thought you heard your name being called faintly, but as your eyes drifted closed, you couldn’t find the will to care.

Blinking against harsh light, you hissed at the brightness of the room you were currently lying in. You felt groggy and exposed at the same time, beginning to move your head side to side in search of someone else nearby who could answer some questions that were slowly populating in your mind. It looked like you were in the infirmary at the butterfly mansion, but why would you be here as a patient? Nothing had happened to you that you could remember....

To your left, you noticed that there was a pillow and blanket draped across a chair in the corner of the room nearest your bed. A book lay open on the side table, a half empty cup beside it; clearly someone had been sitting with you and hopefully they were coming back before too long to retrieve their things.

Movement caught your eye on the other side of the room, and looking over you saw Shinobu step through the doorway. Her eyes were already on you as she crossed the room’s threshold, and you noticed the falter in her step and the widening of her eyes as she registered that you were awake.

“Y/n! I’m so happy to see that you are awake. I was just about to re-check your vitals while you were asleep, and I’ll proceed to check them now that you’re awake. Once I get them, I will go fetch Tomioka and let him know that you’ve woken up.”

“T- Tomioka?” Your voice was rough as you questioned the mention of his name. Why would he come see you? He didn’t even like you really, he had cut things off with you with such detachment he surely didn’t care about your wellbeing too much. Bitterness flooded your mind at the memory of your secret relationship with him and how hurtful the end of it had been.

“Yes of course! He was the one who brought you in; he found you on your last mission greatly injured- it turns out the demon we had thought to be a lower level threat was a lower moon. He’s been sitting with you every day since you’ve been recovering here in the infirmary. He even denied a mission that he had been assigned so that he could remain here to watch over you.” Her eyes sparkled as she told you this, as if she knew something that you didn’t quite yet.

What? Surely you were still unconscious. There’s no way that this was true. Tomioka had never refused a mission for any reason, especially not a reason as trivial as a.... friend.... being injured.

Shinobu had already left the room before you could ask further questions, so you settled back against your pillow as your mind raced. Not even two minutes later, Tomioka rushed through the door with a quickness normally reserved for battle.

“Y/n, are you feeling alright? Do you hurt anywhere? I can ask Kocho to bring you something for pain...” He trailed off, looking back toward the door he had come through, already having kneeled by your bedside.

“T- Tomioka, I’m confused-“

“Giyuu. Call me Giyuu, y/n, please.”

Your brow furrowed further than it had been already, Giyuu’s eyes finally having reached your face and registering your expression.

“Okay, Giyuu. I greatly appreciate you saving my life of course, but I’m confused about why you are here. Shinobu said you’ve been here the entire time I’ve been unconscious also, which is... actually I’m not sure how long, but-“

“A month,” he answered matter of factly.

“A month?! You’ve been by my bedside for an entire month? Tomioka, you-“

“Giyuu.”

“Giyuu, you don’t even like me to my knowledge. Please don’t interrupt me anymore, by the way. You cut things off between us with hardly an explanation as to why. I was perfectly content with the arrangement we had but you cut me off, quite coldly. I was hurt by it, deeply.” You couldn’t help the way your expression arranged into a scowl at the memory of the pain you’d felt.

“And I saw that. I’m so sorry, y/n. I never meant to hurt you, I thought that by ending things with you I was doing you a favor. That last night with you, when you ........., I realized that the feelings on your end were real also and I didn’t want to hurt you further by denying you later on and leading you on.” He reached for your hand as he said this, grasping your cold one in his strong, calloused warmth.

“Wait, also? What do you mean by also?”

“I... Y/n, I thought it was obvious. I love you. I have loved you since the first time we spoke, and I’ve been terrified of you finding out when we would see each other in the night. But how could you not know? I called on you so much, I... I thought I was being transparent, but I couldn’t make myself resist you if you were willing to be with me that way. I’m sorry, Y/n, I’m so sorry to have ever hurt you.”

Your brows remained scrunched in confusion. He loves you? Then why...?

“But, that last night, you told me we couldn’t see each other anymore. I don’t understand why you did all that if you felt the same way.”

“Honestly, as scared as I was of losing you, I was more scared of truly being with you in a relationship. I didn’t think I could give you what you need, what you deserve....” He cast his eyes down. “Y/n, you deserve better than me, and I thought that by cutting you off before things got too real I could spare you.”

Your mouth hung open in disbelief at what you heard, a laugh without humor bursting forth from your lips before you answered.

“Spare me? The pain I felt was unbearable, Giyuu. I fell for you long before that night. It was way too late at that point. You should’ve talked to me.”

“I know that know. But when I found you with that demon, there was so much blood and you looked so hurt I... I didn’t know if you’d make it, and it scared me more than anything else I’ve ever gone through. And though I still think I’m undeserving of having the privilege of calling you mine, I can promise you that I will try every day to be the man you need me to be. I want to be worthy of you, I just.... I just want you, Y/n.”

His eyes met your gaze with an intensity that made your heart leap in your chest. Or maybe that was the weight of his words, or the warmth of his hand covering yours, or a million other tiny perfect aspects of this moment that you shared with him. You couldn’t fight the tears that flooded your eyes, your lips turning up into a watery smile. All you could muster was a nod, a confirmation that you wanted this with him, that you wanted him just as badly. Unable to refrain any longer, you reached your arms out and looped them around his neck, pulling him into an embrace that he was more than happy to return, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck. After a few moments of holding each other Giyuu pulled his face back slightly, a question in his gaze as he glanced between your eyes and your lips. Without hesitation, you brought your mouth to his and sank into his kiss. You could feel his lips turn up into a smile as they moved against yours, and your body relaxed further into his embrace as your fingers reached around to tangle in his hair. You’d missed this so much, and now you’d never have to be without it.

Someone cleared their throat and you both broke away, turning to look at who it was, though neither of you broke your embrace. Shinobu stood holding a tray of varying medicines along with some food and water. Her ever-present smile adorning her face held a genuine warmth looking at the two of you.

“I apologize for interrupting, but Y/n, I need to administer your medications. It won’t take very long. Tomioka, you can stay if you’d like.”

He backed from your bedside, though his fingers remained tangled in yours and his lips remained upturned. His hand stayed locked in yours through the administration of your medications, and after that, your meal and your nap was well, and when you woke up from it he was still at your side, brushing the hair back from your forehead and smiling down at you tenderly. He gave you a peck right above your eyebrow before pulling away.

“I love you, y/n. I’m here now, I always will be.”

[lilac-gold]

i know that this is just a part of how omori's fight system operates, but i find it very interesting that we are able to make memes like the one pictured below considering all we know about hero's character throughout omori, both in the real world and in headspace

this meme is made by using hero's "smile" skill as well as a rain cloud, sad poem or anything else that inflicts a sad emotion on him. hero's skills are primarily always either food-based healing (e.g. "cook", "fast food", "homemade jam", "snack time") or some form of charisma (e.g. "captivate", "mesmerise", "enchant", "dazzle"). it's hero's job to be the support of their team, and to use his pleasant demeanor and appearance as a distraction.

no matter which emotion hero has, he can still use every one of those skills. it is of no relevance how he feels as long as he can uphold his designated role as a charmer and a healer.

now, consider real world hero's way of dealing with things, which is that he simply doesn't. when he returns to faraway, he's there for everyone else, appearing on the surface to be completely fine and content, and simply not acknowledging his own trauma. he puts on a constant facade of normalcy and perfection. because to hero, it doesn't matter which emotion he has, he can still use every one of his skills. it is of no relevance how he feels as long as he can uphold his designated role as a charmer and a healer.

hero would bend over backwards to please others. he canonically has depression, but would much rather be someone else's shoulder to cry on than admit he's not okay. everyone puts him on a pedestal, viewing him as a sort of ideal to look up to. sunny does it. kel does it. his parents do it. even hero himself does.

i think that's part of the reason why he's so often overlooked by the fandom: hero's unrealistically perfect, but that's exactly the point. he forces those expectations on himself, forces himself to earn trophies and medals even while he struggles to even get out of bed. he smiles despite wanting to do the opposite, because he's not supposed to be depressed. he's hero.

his charm-based skills in headspace alternate between a) reducing foes' attack with a bonus happy effect and b) acting first with all foes targeting him for one turn. hero either dissolves the situation a little, acting like the mediator he always has been, or takes the blunt of the damage for his friends.

he's constantly in the spotlight, in every world.

headspace hero has done a ridiculous amount to help people, from stopping a wildfire to giving up all of his organs, has made such a profound impact on so many lives through his good deeds, and that's recognised. people in headspace adore him.

the conveyor belts at the junkyard are endeared to him. sweetheart falls in love with him. mr jawsum plans to essentially keep him trapped working at the last resort forever. medusa thinks he's "too pretty to sell". hero's worth something to so many people, even when he doesn't want to be.

and that applies to the real world too. he's the only older sibling left for his friends after mari's death. he has to be strong for them, to be that ideal, because they have no-one else to fill that role. he brings kel and aubrey together, rescues sunny and basil, says that they should have a sleepover like "old times". he's trying so hard for everyone else, he can't afford to let himself crumble.

hero's a performer. and we see canonically that he has at least some stage fright from sweetheart's quest for hearts.

sweetheart's an interesting case. i find it interesting that the image above would be found mostly in the fight against her. sweetheart is one of the bosses with a uniquely heightened emotional state, hers being that of happiness in "manic". due to the way the emotion system in battle works (explained to us, funnily enough, by hero himself), it makes sense to oppose sweetheart's mania with sadness, misery, and depression.

so that's what hero does! he has the depressed effect, he'd otherwise look incredibly morose, but as soon as time calls for it, he's got a smile back on his face. we see how uncomfortable he is about her advances, but he gives her a smile that sets into motion a whole separate stream of dialogue where sweetheart proclaims her that she would like to "make [his smile] mine".

hero's the group golden boy. the charmer, the healer, the protector, the older brother, the pillar for them to lean on when things get tough. he knows that he is, and upholds that image to the best of his ability.

that is, until mari dies.

then, he falls into a deep, serious state of depression in the real world, because he's failed. he and mari have strived for perfection their whole lives, only for her to apparently deem it all pointless and leave them behind. hero feels like he wasn't enough, like he never will be, no matter how much he's tried. the faked grins disappear alongside those which were genuine, for how is he supposed to smile when he's given up on the facade?

he stops talking to people. stops going outside. stops helping. he can't do anything but reflect on his perceived failures, and without his pillar of support, the group crumbles to pieces.

hero stays like that for a whole year, until he argues with kel and remembers the reason why he needs to stay alive. this is hurting his brother as much as it is hero, and kel's depending on him to get better. so he does, in a way.

he earns medals and trophies again, helps out again, lives up to expectations then exceeds them even more. he can't bring himself to do the things he enjoys anymore, or talk to the three kids he viewed as little siblings and he failed, but he's trying. then, he leaves, off to medical school like his parents wanted. it's a fresh start. it's a chance for him to start to move on.

he's been healing, a little, by the time he comes back to faraway. he can talk about what mari would have wanted without breaking down entirely. he can make kel and sunny breakfast. he can bring the group together like old times, and reminisce on all he used to have.

but he's still not better, and it shows. it shows in the tears he spills when alone beside mari's old piano. it shows in his refusal to visit her grave. it shows in all the little ways he can try to hide, can cover up with a smile too bright to be real. depression doesn't go away that easily, no matter how much hero tries to pretend he's fine.

all in all, i think this meme essentially sums up hero's character and arc in a single, otherwise funny image. am i overcomplicating things? oh, definitely yes. was this a blast to analyse nonetheless? absolutely! there are far too few takes on hero out there, and i hope this gave a little bit of insight as to why i adore him so much.

[dontforgetukraine]

A memorial service was held in Lviv for 7-year-old Emilia, 18-year-old Daria, 21-year-old Yaryna, and their mother Yevhenia, all killed in the Russian strike on September 4.

Meanwhile, Russian propaganda was at a film festival in Venice. The film "Russians at War" had funding from Canadian tax dollars. Unless something changes, it will also be shown at a film festival in Toronto on September 10th. It received $340,000 from the Canada Media Fund, which receives funding from the Government of Canada (Source). It also had support from France’s Centre National de Cinéma.

This is some of what the Ukrainian Canadian Congress had to say about it. You can find more of their statements on their website. They encourage everyone to contact the Canada Media Fund to share views on the funding and that the screening of the film should be cancelled. Contact information is in the link.

The Canadian Government says it is very concerned about the influence of Russian propaganda. Then why is the Canada Media Fund using taxpayer money to fund: —A movie – Russians at War – made by a filmmaker whose previous movies used to be broadcast by Russia Today, a Russian propaganda outlet sanctioned by the Government of Canada? —A filmmaker who entered sovereign Ukrainian territory together with invading Russian armies, thus violating Ukrainian law, Ukrainian sovereignty and possibly breaching Canadian sanctions? —Why did this film receive $340,000 from the Canada Media Fund, which is funded by the Government of Canada? —Why is the Toronto International Film Festival (TIFF) screening a movie that seeks to explain away Russia’s genocidal war of aggression against Ukraine? Why is TIFF showcasing a film which blames “propaganda” or “the fog of war” for the Russian armies who invaded Ukraine and who rape, torture, murder and dehumanize Ukrainians?

The TVO (Ontario's public educational media organization) had this to say on the matter of the film.

Russians at War is at its core an anti-war film. It is unauthorized by Russian officials and was made at great personal risk to the filmmaker, who was under constant threat of arrest and incarceration for trying to tell an unofficial story. This film shows the increasing disillusionment of Russian soldiers as their experience at the front doesn’t jive with the media lies their families are being told at home. The film was produced by an Academy Award nominee with the support of cultural agencies in France and Canada because it is a documentary made in the tradition of independent war correspondence. We encourage people to see the documentary for themselves when it is available. It will be screening at the Toronto International Film Festival next week and will be airing on TVO in the coming months. TVO is an education and public affairs-focused organization. Our priority is to provide our viewers with important stories from across Ontario and around the world. TVO remains firmly committed to delivering high-quality and ethical content. We value transparency and integrity in our work and continue to uphold these principles in all our operations.” – TVO Media Education Group

This is naivety at best. No matter what, it's being complicit to white washing Russian war crimes.

Anastasia Trofimova, the documentary's filmmaker, has at least 11 films funded by RT. And as the DOJ in America has shown us recently, RT has direct ties to the Kremlin. To think she could get access and just film anything without the approval of the FSB is laughable. Nothing happens without their approval, and at the very least it would be a breach of OpSec.

And what she says gets even worse.

Trofimova was asked at the Venice press conference on whether it was “ethical” to humanize Russian soldiers, in light of war crimes committed by Russia’s army during its ongoing invasion of Ukraine.   “I find it a little bit of a strange question, if we can humanize or not humanize someone. So, are there lists of people who we can humanize and people who we can’t? Of course, we have to humanize everyone. This is a huge tragedy for our region, first of all, and for the entire world,” replied Trofimova.  “If we don’t see each other as people…  these black and white stereotypes about each other, this will only make the war continue. This will only make the hatred grow… unfortunately, that’s sort of the route taken by politicians, but I don’t think that this is the route that regular people should take.”

Of course she frames it as a great tragedy for Russia. "Russia is always the victim and should never be held accountable" is the common narrative and attitude. She didn't mention Bucha, or Irpin, or any of the other cities that have been wiped off the map. She doesn't acknowledge the ethnic cleansing being done by her country or why Russians are being regarded as something other than human due to their actions and behavior. She keeps talking about seeing people as people, but doesn't acknowledge the perverse racism and dehumanization her fellow Russians do to Ukrainians and the ethnic minorities within Russia. The soldiers in the Russian army carry this attitude to the battlefield. It's not hard to find this behavior in all the videos on Telegram.

To that point and in answer to a second question by the same journalist on whether she had seen the Ukrainian films in Venice, Trofimova voiced her disquiet at the ending of Olha Zhurba’s documentary Songs of Slow Burning Earth which is also playing Out of Competition. The audiovisual diary captures the impact on Ukrainian people and society in the first two years of the ongoing Russian invasion, which began in February 2022. “I found it to be really good, especially the first 15, 20 minutes… when people just started to find out that the war is beginning… I found it to be really strong,” said Trofimova. “The ending, though, I wasn’t that much of a fan of because it sort of contrasted Ukrainian kids and Russian kids, with Ukrainian kids thinking about what they can do to build a better Ukraine for the future, and Russian kids were just shown as marching and singing war songs. “I found this to be playing into that whole narrative that Russians, by definition, are these aggressive and awful people… you know that it’s in their blood to be to be this way."

Look, if she has a problem with how Russian children are being portrayed in the ending of that other film, then maybe she should look around and wonder why the portrayal is there. Ukrainians aren't the ones filling Russian children's heads with propaganda and revanchism. Your fellow Russians are sending their kids to school with backpacks with the fucking Z on them, or making them wear tank costumes in parades. I've read articles of Russians sending their kids to some form of military camp. It's Russian society that creates and reinforces standards to be awful people, not Ukrainians. Examine your damn society first. Look at the war crimes Russian soldiers willingly commit and record to post on Telegram. Listen to what your fellow Russians say about Ukrainians. It's not hard.

This is all grotesque manipulation and propaganda.

If you want to read this article these excerpts are from, here. I'm so disgusted I'm getting a headache.

[wonderlandwalker]

To Love or To Lose| Finnick Odair X Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: Finnick wishes he could just simply make up his mind about you, but in reality he was in a constant rotation of emotions. He knows it could never be, but that doesn't mean it's easy to let go.

Content Warnings/Tags: Slight fluff but mostly angst, look I tried writing fluff but it's simply impossible, this is once again not proofread, no use of y/n, no character descriptions.

Word Count: 1.1k

A/n: Ask and you shall receive. Still recovering from the writing mush my thesis put me in but slowly trying to get back to it, hope this is good. Let me know if you guys have any requests! (Once again divider by @saradika-graphics who was sent to tumblr by the damn gods themselves)

He wanted to hate you, his life would be so much easier if he could just hate you. And every once in a while, he could convince himself that he did, that when you looked at him with that sparkle in your eyes the feeling in his stomach was disgust and not butterflies, that when he saw you all dressed up at a party the haze clouding his mind was annoyance instead of jealousy, but as soon as he would actually talk to you the masquerade fell down quicker than he cared for, and he would have to confront it time and time again.

If he was honest with himself he knew what this feeling was, he knew the fact he wanted to crumble to his knees and ravage you until the melody of you moaning his name graced his ears wasn't contempt, but actually facing reality was much harder than upholding the illusion. Because you were everything he stood against, you were everything he had devoted his life to destroy, you were part of the capitol. And yet he found himself wanting to devote himself to you, found himself desperate for your attention.

He fought the battle with himself for so long, but every time you had snuck away from a party to your apartment you would become so gentle, you would reassure him and care for him and it would make him question everything he thought he knew, because capital citizens weren't good people, he knew that, so why were you?

And tonight had been different, he had dreaded the event since he first heard of it, and tried everything he could to get out of it, but President Snow wasn't one to easily budge. It was a night in honour of something he could not remember, something he didn't care to remember either way. His stylist had dressed him up less provocatively than usual, a three-piece suit adorning his frame letting him know it was at least a high-profile occasion, therefore letting him know you would be here.  He was scanning the crowds of people he so desperately wanted to destroy, desperately seeking for you among them. And the moment he saw you he remembered why he put himself through all this turmoil, why he couldn't simply stay away. The blue dress you were wearing put the oceans at home to shame for daring to think they were beautiful, it made him wonder if the skies above knew they were being humbled by you tonight, and once again he couldn't help but walk over to you the second he caught someone else noticing the same thing. And he knew, logically he knew that it was his own doing, that if only he could get over himself and tell you the intricate rambles of his mind he would have no need to feel threatened. Because that's what this feeling was slowly creeping its way up to the surface, the threat of someone else realizing what he was taking so long to come to terms with, and he had no one but himself to blame.

And as he woke up the next morning he forced himself to forget everything he learned once more, just as he did every time he spent the night with you, because this sense of peace was nothing but a well-constructed time bomb. 

The way you would so perfectly fit into his arms as he lay beside you, as if someone had found the mould of his body and crafted you to complement it made him melt every single time. The soft tilt of your voice as you invited him in without fail made him wonder if perhaps it was possible because you did not ask what others did, you did not demand more than he was willing to freely offer, the only thing you wanted was to be with him. And maybe it was the fact that he wasn’t sure how to process the concept, but maybe he was still too scared to even try. 

And as he attentively removed your soft skin from his and got up to get dressed he knew he was creating his own destruction, that he was reconfirming his own fate. And if he truly let himself he knew he would love you, he knew he would love you until the world was cruel enough to rip you apart, but he also knew that he would convince you to join the cause without even meaning to. Because if loving you was what he would do, he wouldn’t hold back, he would share every part of himself with you, including the one that would lead to destruction. You were smart, you were smart enough to survive on your own in a world that was out to get you, bright enough to climb to the top and remain there, you were respected enough that he knew Coin would utilise it, she would be foolish not to. And no one would make it out of the war unscathed, but he wasn't about to contribute to the harm of it, not willing to risk it.

So stuck with the alternative it was, stuck pondering over the what ifs and the distant possibilities, wondering if he would be able to remember the feeling of your lips against his until the moment he died, wishing to forever recall your sweet whispers. He would come back to it as long as he could, as long as he could stand the guilt of exposing you to the exact same thing he would spend the rest of his life recovering from

They say it's better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, but what about the scenarios that run rampant in his head as he looks back at you, the internal screaming of doubt as he closes the door behind him to return home, careful not to wake you as the lock clicked in place, because if he knew he wouldn’t be able to look himself in the eyes if he had to see yours shimmer back at him. He would have to love without ever being able to lose, because you would always be in the back of his mind, receding with an infatuation that would be his undoing one of these days.

[stuiie]

Be My Redemption - Chapter 4

Summary:

Everything you had worked so hard for came true when you were recruited to the department dedicated to capturing the notorious serial killer haunting the country for over a decade. Eager and hopeful, you saw yourself solving the mystery and bringing the cold-blooded killer to justice. However, what you never foresaw was becoming the obsession of the the red-headed killer. As the line blurs between holding onto your principles and succumbing to the allure of her dangerous fixation, the question remains: will you uphold your beliefs or risk being consumed by the allure of everything she is?

What to expect in chapter 4

Still, the breakneck pace of S.H.I.E.L.D. was relentless, and after a grueling few days, you decided to take a breather. A quiet moment to yourself, away from the constant buzz of activity, was a luxury you couldn’t pass up. You found a small café on the way back to the modest hotel where the team was staying—a place that seemed worlds away from the chaos of your new job. You had chosen a spot on the terrace, content to take in the fresh air and the distant sound of traffic. A brief moment to be normal—or at least try to.

The only issue? The menu. It was entirely in French. You squinted at the list, trying to piece together what little you remembered from high school French class, but it felt like you were reading hieroglyphs. Not ready to admit defeat, you decided to give it a shot anyway. You glanced up at the waiter, clearing your throat.

You’d barely finished your poorly attempt to order, when you caught the look on the waiter’s face—a mix of confusion and barely concealed disdain, like you’d just butchered the language of his ancestors in the worst possible way. You felt the heat rising to your face, ready to scramble for some sort of recovery, when you were interrupted by a low, husky laugh from the table next to you.

Read it all at AO3 - Chapter 4

[quantifiableme]

KyoKao and saying I love you (pt 2/2)

YOU KNOW WHAT ELSE???

You know what else is really important to me about Kyoya Ootori?

Homie likes affection, but he doesn’t *ALLOW* himself too. He has to hate it, because what kind of fool is he to want a hug?

And before you aruge: No one who hates physical touch can be around Tamaki that long, and to the degree of what their friendship is. Tamaki is affectionate with everyone, but I would argue the most with Haruhi and Kyoya. Part of that is because 1.) Haruhi is used to it from her father and 2.) Kyoya has no choice.

And that’s why Kyoya loves the affection from Tamaki, because there is deniability in it. Like “Ugh, I hate physical affection, but I can’t stop him. Oh no, here he comes for another hug *so upsetting*”

Enter Karou, who has received constant physical affection from his brother since the womb. And once they start dating, Karou’s main love language is gonna be cuddling and physical touch so he’s gonna be all over Kyoya.

The line is that Kyoya doesn’t do PDA. He has a reputation to uphold, of course.

But just the two if them? Listen, Kyoya’s never going to initiate it, of course not. But Karou won’t stop. And at first, Karou thinks he’s restraining himself, but he still has some part of his person touching some part of Kyoya at all times.

And like on time they’re watching a movie, and Karou is draped over his boyfriend like a sheet over a ghost. And usually if the movie is boring, Karou will always loudly announce when he has to use the bathroom or get a snack or whatever. But they’re watching some Aaron Sorkin thung where the dialogue is fast and important, and Kyoya is completely invested (Karou can tell because Kyoya is looking at the screen like he does when he’s typing a business report that is going to ruin another company’s assets), and Karou doesn’t want to distrub him. But also he has to pee.

So he disentangles himself from Kyoya, but before he evens moves, Kyoya is holding him.

“Where are you going?” He asks, eyes finally torn from the screen.

Karou stops, caught. As if he was discovered putting rats in an air vent (deja vu) and not..trying to pee.

“Uh,” Karou starts., pointing to the hallway behind the couch where the toilet is. “The bathroom?”

“Oh,” Kyoya says. Karou can see his boyfriend processing the information, brain obviously still distracted from the hypothetical buisness merger going on in his head. Kyoya finally looses his grip on Karou, but rests his arms at his sides. As if already preparing for Karou yo come back.

“Wait,” Karou interrupts. He reaches behind him frantically for the remote. Once the movie is paused, he turns back giddily to Kyoya. “Do you like cuddling??”

Kyoya, to the average observer, is hard to read. Hikaru jokes his own three emotions are content, annoyed, and tiered, and they are only truly distinguishable through context. Rather than anything on Kyoya’s face.

Karou, however, has been a bit of a novice at knowing where to look. When he’s embarrassed, Kyoya may not turn beat red the way someone else would. Instead, his eyebrows tense, and his gaze focuses like he’s glaring. But even more than that-

“I don’t understand why you are asking.” Kyoya says sternly. “Isn’t this how we typically operate to watch these things?”

When embarrassed, Kyoya likes debate his way out of his embarrassment.

Karou grins, suspicion confirmed. “Yeah, but I figured you tolerated it bevause you knew I was going to do it anyway. I didn’t realize you actually *wanted* cuddles.”

“Do you want to stop?” Kyoya also liked to threaten when he was embarrassed.

“Awww,” Karou whined as he started nuzziling his boyfriend’s face. “Are you gonna miss me when I’m all the way down the hall? So cute!”

Kyoya pushed his boyfriend off of him. He then grabbed the remote and started playing to movie again.

From the floor, Karou cackled. The aggression, along with everything else, was the final confirmation for it. Karou felt bubbly inside. He loved Kyoya and his cool demeanor, and his vicious mentality. But in small moments, when Kyoya let his ever present guard down, Karou fell even more in love.

It was like seeing a side to Kyoya only he knew. It was information only Karou had. It made him, and their relationship, feel all the more real; like a string on a ballon, tying it to the ground.

From behubd the couch, Karou wrapoed his arms around his boyfriend’s shoulders and kissed the top of his head.

“Now you be brave for me, Kyoya,” snickers Karou. “I’ll be back from my shit soon.”

Kyoya turned up the volume on the movie.

[chickenkupo]

Just My Luck

Just My Luck

Summary: The lands are ruled by ruthless gods of various levels of power. Humanity is only a means to an end for their endless desires, if they happen to gain their attention. Many lay low, do what they can to appease the gods and try to live their lives out, as best they can, given the circumstances. Wriothesley is one such mortal. Having committed a great crime as a young boy, he’s constantly fleeing from his past. Little did he know; however, his constant misfortunes lead to his destiny, and it is most certainly not what he was expecting.

Recommendations: None, this is a purely AU work, so you’re good to go, reader.

Warnings: 18+ content, ya’ll. We’re going to get a little spicy here. Not my usual sort of Wriolette content. Neuv is going to be a little dark and demanding in this one, so if that sort of content (I’d guess you’d say it’s very close to yandere), then this isn’t for you. Religious hints/themes are also present in this. Consent really doesn’t exist here. I have been thinking of this sort of god x human trope for a while now, and I just needed to get it out of my brain. So, I guess this is a little self-indulgent work that I hope others out there will appreciate as well? Also, it’s putting me in a mental headspace to make a little follow-up chapter to Coming Home, since it’s looking like ya’ll are wanting that, hehe.

Also, one more warning. This is me trying to write a SHORT story and not have this as a full-blown novel. However, if this does receive a lot of love, I will 100% rewrite this to be a multi-chaptered work. This is me practicing self-restraint and tldr make a short story, you freaking gremlin sorta thing. OH, also, this isn’t beta-read, but will 100% be if this makes it to being AO3-post worthy.

AN: I AM TOO LAZY TO UPDATE MY WARNINGS BUT I MESSED UP AND THIS IS SO LONG BUT ENJOY IT AND IF YOU WANT AN EVEN LONGER VERSION WITH MORE LORE AND ACTION LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS PLZ AND I WILL POST ON AO3 I FAILED KEEPING THIS SHORT, I AM SOOOORRRY

Wriothesley grunted as he was pushed forward, his hands bound behind his back by a golden metallic rope that refused to give way, even in the slightest. The guards that stood beside him ensured that he continued walking down the extravagantly decorated hallway, figures lining each side wearing various elegant dresses and suits, some even in intricately designed armor that mortals were rarely blessed to see. They all watched as the bound man was ushered onward to a large set of doors, decorated with a carved design of a long, serpent-like dragon encompassing the entire outer border of both doors, as if it were protecting what was beyond them. Wriothesley tried to slow his pace, flexing his well-defined muscles, doing whatever he could to try to break the bonds that held him in place, but nothing worked. The guards beside him only stared at his pathetic attempts at breaking free, a few patrons from the sidelines murmuring to themselves, commenting on how he should give up and how silly mortals were, thinking that they could defy even the smallest demands of the gods.

He always found himself in the most unfortunate circumstances, but this was the worst fate that could have befallen a human. Most of his kind kept their heads bowed, living silent lives and avoiding the powerful gazes of the deities that ruled their lands. For mere mortals, the prime level of life that they could wish to live was providing high level sacrifices to appease their rulers, hoping that they would be blessed in return or even ignored, in hopes of being allowed to live their lives to the best of their abilities. If they failed to uphold to this standard and a god felt slighted, even in the smallest of ways, then they were bound to become cursed, and experience the worst luck imaginable, having them wishing for a swift death. No, the gods loved toying with their victims, extending their punishment for as long as possible, feeding upon their misfortune, until their victims took their very last breaths. It was a miserable existence, but as long as you dedicated yourself to providing sacrifices that satisfied their desires and obeying whatever they commanded, then you could potentially avoid their gazes and wraths.

However, Wriothesley didn’t feel as though that was an existence worth living. He was a man that was shaped by misfortune, and rarely feared it. Having been orphaned at a young age and shoved from one foster family to another, he knew exactly what misfortune was, without the direct punishment of the gods. Each family he was tossed to was worst than the last. From having one family relying on him to provide them with everything and having worked to the point of exhaustion to keep food on the table, only to endure harsh beatings regardless of the outcome every night, to being sent off to fighting rings to win boxing matches against young men his age and older, he had seen it all. He eventually had enough and turned on his last foster family, killing his adoptive parents in the middle of the night, fleeing the area and taking the other children that happened to have the same misfortune as him to wherever he was going to go. They did find refuge in small, abandoned buildings, and for once his luck did strike true as he was able to find families that would take his adoptive brothers and sisters in, and not expose them to the same fates that they had before. No, these people took true pity on them, bringing them in and giving them a proper home and a good foundation for raising them. The same families always offered Wriothesley the same conditions, but he would always deny them, saying that he was far too damaged and messed up to be worth anything, too far gone for any sort of redemption or happy ending. Before they could even try to convince him otherwise, he had already taken his leave and was moving onto his next venture.

The young boy grew into a young man, roaming from city and city, finding places to work manual labor that would provide him with just enough funds to survive off of. Whenever a place offered him a permanent position or abode, he would thank them, and then immediately leave, onto the next city, town or village. He didn’t know why, but there was a part of his soul that felt like he was always in constant danger, and needed to run from prying eyes, even if he had no enemies. Though he had murdered his foster parents in cold blood as a boy, there were no further investigations into this, almost as if the crime had never happened. He wished so desperately that this was the truth of the matter, but his suspicions never seemed to completely wane. Someone had to have known, whether it be a mortal or a god. He knew that he was going to have to face the consequences of his actions, however justified that they were. So, he vowed that he would continue moving onward, never stopping, always running.

So, that’s exactly what he did. He never stayed long enough for any human or deity to know him well, and he wanted to keep it that way. Discretion was key, and to be honest with himself, this type of living excited him and kept him feeling alive. For once, he thought that he had finally hit it lucky, this was the lifestyle meant for him and he was going to live it to the fullest. Though his suspicions and underlying fear ruled him deep down, there was an odd sense of freedom that he felt being out on his own like this, and he never wanted to lose this. For once in his life, he felt lucky to be in the position that he was in. He was afraid to feel happy, but he couldn’t help himself. His adoptive brothers and sisters were on their way to a better future, and maybe one day, so would he.

Well, as quick as luck had visited him, it was just as fast to leave. The young man was continuing his work assisting a local general store with helping them bring in heavy goods, a horribly weighted sack placed on his shoulder as he was able to transport it inside of the store before multiple guards, lesser deities by the look of them, all approached him at once. Wriothesley immediately dropped the sack and tried to take off, not even taking the time to question their motives, but he was easily detained. One deity grabbed him by the shoulder and twisting it, pushing him against the wall as another guard brought out a metallic, golden rope, that automatically tied his wrists together behind him. Wriothesley growled as he tried to resist, now finding the time to begin spouting questions as he realized the situation that he was currently in.

“The hell did I even do?! I just got here and haven’t broken any laws, let me go!”

“That’s not up for discussion. You’re to come with us, no questions asked. Any hesitation, and we’ll hunt down your adoptive family and have them suffer for the rest of their days.” one of the growls out, tightening the rope around his wrists ever so slightly, for emphasis. Immediately, Wriothesley shut his mouth and said no word and offered no resistance. So, his suspicions were correct, someone had been keeping tabs on his whereabouts and knew about his past, but what god or mortal alike would hold any sort of interest in him? Sure, he was handsome and had both women and men swooning for him, but that never held any sort of value to him. He also didn’t have any sort of money in savings to his name, using whatever little he earned from odd jobs to be able to afford housing and small, pitiful meals and other necessities.

His heart felt like it skipped a beat, as he immediately reminded himself about his biggest fear. Was this finally the retribution that he would be facing for his previous sins? Did the families of his abusive foster parents that he murdered finally send out their agents to find him, and a god had felt it was their time to shine to torture a mortal? There was no escaping it, even if it was the case. Wriothesley then opted to keep his mouth shut, hoping he was overthinking the situation. But, what else could this possibly be over, then? He needed answers, but he wasn’t about to try to fight against them for it.

Reluctantly, Wriothesley complied with their demands, and was ushered into a rather delicately designed carriage, one that clearly belonged to a higher-powered god, but which, he had no idea. The guards also remained silent on the manner, merely ushering him in and taking an odd interest in keeping him safe and comfortable, but still under their ever-watchful gazes. They continued onward with their journey, and eventually reached to where they were now, standing in front of those formidable doors, gods of various levels of power and renown surrounding them all, but their focus all centered on him and him alone. Wriothesley’s heart was racing in anticipation, knowing that he had no choice but to face whatever was beyond those doors, even if it ended up killing him, or worse.

A low, guttural growl was heard, seemingly originating from past the closed entryway in front of them, which had Wriothesley’s eyes widening in shock. Never in his life had he heard such a noise, no other god he had known or met personally held the sort of power that was radiating from such a sound. The others that were previously surrounding him were now shuffling away in fear, some were even shaking, staring straight ahead. A thought suddenly ran through Wriothesley’s head, he noticed that all of the deities were distracted, and he could easily flee from the scene. He tried to will his body to run, but instead it only stayed firmly planted in place, his body no longer under his control. His heart began to race in a sudden panic, and it wasn’t eased as the closed doors in front of him began to part, opening up to reveal a continuation of the current hallway that he was in, but a darkness was at the very end, hiding whatever it was that was awaiting him.

What happened next horrified the young man beyond measure, and by then he knew that he was doomed.

“Wriothesley, step forward, come to me, come to your destiny.” a regal voice called out, though the growl from before was also heard in the same voice, as if they were perfectly mixed together. Whoever was calling to him, this had to be one of the ancient gods of lore, mighty beasts that garnered so much power from its followers and victories of war, that it gained godhood. But, what would such a highly positioned god want with someone low and poor, as himself? Wriothesley wasn’t about to argue, however. Wriothesley tested his muscles, now being able to freely move them. He had regained control of his body, and along with that realization, the golden metallic rope that was previously wrapped around his wrists shattered, releasing their hold on him. Whoever this was wanted him to come willingly and freely, but also prevented him from having any other option. After taking a moment to mentally accept the situation for what it was and what it could possibly be, the man slowly but surely took step after step, inching his way forward, obeying the command that had been called out to him.

Once he was past the dual doors, they both slammed shut behind him, as if signaling there was no way to truly turn back now, the only way was forward. The young man jumped in response to the loud noise behind him, but didn’t bother looking back. Instead, the man glared as he looked forward, a figure now clearly standing where darkness once was, the hallway now oddly illuminated, as if showcasing the person directly in his path.

The god before him stood mighty and tall, long white hair with just as long blue streaks, decorated with golden ornaments, robes that matched the varying colors of the ocean’s brightest waters, swirling around his slim body in an ancient style of robes. His eyes were a sharp lilac color, and gave an odd feeling of being so similar to the eyes of a feline, slit pupils that were slightly dilated as his gaze was transfixed to Wriothesley.

“I see that time has done you well, Wriothesley. You certainly grew into a rather handsome man. I will forever consider myself fortunate to lay claim on you so many years ago, before the others could.” At this, Wriothesley gasped, anxiety beginning to rise within his chest. A god laying claim on him? Ages ago? He would have remembered such a thing, seeing as though the deities usually made a huge spectacle when they took a human as theirs. It wasn’t an uncommon act, but according to what Wriothesley remembered hearing, a god had to be completely enamored with a mortal to do such an act. A claim meant ownership of the mortal by the god, sure, but it also bound them together in a deep, intimate way. The god would always know the whereabouts of the mortal, their control over them being absolute. For the mortal, it meant having a power being provide and protect them, but gods tended to be jealous beings, and this often resulted in a rather lonely existence for the mortal. There were humans that found this to be an absolute obsession for themselves, dolling up their looks and doing what they believed would get the attention of some sort of god that would claim them, but many found that staying away from this sort of deep-rooted obsession was better for them.

“I’m sorry, but I think you’ve got the wrong guy. No one’s laid claim on me and- “

“Then how would you explain your horrible luck then, Wriothesley?”

The young man shuddered, every time the god in front of him said his name, an odd wave of feelings started to phase through him that he couldn’t quite explain. It was like it felt right, and a small part of him wanted to hear the figure continue to say his name, until he couldn’t handle it anymore. The hell was wrong with him? He has never had such thoughts about others like this, why now?

“I-I’m not following…”

“I saw you kill your foster parents. I knew what you did was justified, my dear. They were horrible and their sins innumerable. You did what you needed to do to protect yourself and the little ones. It’s not often that I find myself observing humans as closely as you, and I knew from that moment forward, you were someone I wanted. Someone with such a profound sense of justice, and the spirit to carry out punishment. So, I cursed you.” The man continued to explain, as if it were common knowledge.

“Why the fuck would you curse someone that you’re interested in? Are you fucking insane?!” Wriothesley shouted out, stomping forward to stand right in front of the mighty being. The ancient one’s brows furrowed, glaring at the young man in front of him.

“Wriothesley…” the god said, his tone demanding respect and issuing a single and final warning.

Wriothesley bared his teeth at the ancient one, issuing his own, small, pathetic growl, in comparison. However, he understood and heeded the silent warning, not taking any further action, allowing the omnipotent being before him to continue on with his explanation.

“Of course. I didn’t want to take you away, especially with you being so young. However, I wanted no other god to look upon you in favor and want you for themselves. So, I placed a curse on you, and took care of anyone being aware of you committing murder. You would always feel as though someone or something was chasing you. A home would never be one for long, your soul aching to keep searching for something. If a suitor tried to approach you, you would take no notice or interest. They, also, would disappear from your life. Luck would abandon you, forcing you to follow your true destiny with hardships that would test you, mold you for your potential to come alive. You were to keep living your life, until I was prepared to receive you, and you were of a proper age. Now, is the time, Wriothesley…”

The powerful being before him then snapped his fingers, the area around them turning pitch black for just a moment, before the it was illuminated once more, showing a marble decorated room with various different nautical decorations adorning every aspect of it. Blues, golds and silvers lined and adorned every aspect of it, treasures beyond measure lay everywhere, as if the room itself were a museum of the heavenly bodies. In the middle of the room, and directly behind the god, was a giant, circular bed with blankets of the finest silk with the same level of intricate designs on them as well. Wriothesley’s breath stuttered, as he took a small step back, his head tilting to the side in confusion.

“Now is the time to consummate our binding, wouldn’t you agree? It’s been many years, and my hunger for you is insufferable…” the being in front of him stared intensely into his own eyes, unable to avoid him. A million thoughts were running through Wriothesley’s mind, but only one question was able to come out.

“W-w-who are you…?”

“Ah, yes. Sincerest apologies, my love. You may know me by many names, and by many forms, though this is my true self, that I will never hesitate to show and share with you. The title you humans appear to have given me in my temples is Neuvillette, god of all that is hydro, the waters of all are mine, of the lakes, the sea…” Neuvillette purred as he began to approach Wriothesley.

“Of every human body, but especially yours…”

The young man hastily started taking steps backwards, never keeping his eyes off of the powerful being before him, but it was to no avail for his situation. Suddenly, behind him, he felt a sort of cushion that he was then pushed down onto, sheets wrapping up around him as he became entangled in them. It took a moment for him to realize that the god before him must have teleported the both of them straight to the circular bed he had observed before, and now both of them completely nude and exposed to each other. Wriothesley shrieked as realized the position that the two were in now, him being laid out on the bed like a meal on a decorated platter, while the god above was draped over him in pure possession and domination, but that wasn’t the only reason why he screamed out. The young man also observed the full body of the god in front of him, perfectly chiseled muscles but with a slim, elegant figure. White, creamy skin that was free from any blemish or imperfection, and perfectly smooth with little to no body hair, except for his lower body, where white pubic hair trailed from below his navel down towards his lower pelvic region, where instead of one perfectly thick and long member, he seemed to have…two…

Oh, fuck, he was truly not going to make it out of this alive, whether Neuvillette realized it or not.

“G-Get the fuck off of me, just kill me!” Wriothesley screamed out, trying his best to push the god off of him, but once more, to no avail. Though his muscles were much larger than the deity that was draped above him, it mattered little. Whatever claim the god had on him seemed to hold true, he could never overpower him.

“Never, Wriothesley, never, you’re staying with me for the rest of eternity. I will show you how a god truly appreciates his claimed…” Neuvillette growled out, as he lowered his head and nuzzled Wriothesley’s neck, licking it repeatedly in a sensual manner, as if he were handling an absolute treasure. Wriothesley shut his eyes as he moaned in pleasure, not able to prevent himself from doing so, as his hips started rutting upwards, his member starting to harden from just the simplest of touches from this being. He blushed in embarrassment, but no one had ever touched him in this way before, no one had ever said such words to him. Everything he ever wanted to hear and feel from someone, Neuvillette was serving it on a silver platter for him, and he was a starved mortal, ready to accept it all.

“Ah, ah, what are you doing to me, Neuvillette…” Wriothesley breathed out, in a husky voice, fully immersed in all of the emotions and sensations he was feeling. Neuvillette only smiled against the skin of his neck, as his hands began to roam the young man’s body. Soft, but powerful hands continued to caress him, touching Wriothesley in places he never dared imagine anyone else doing so. From his muscled pectorals, down the sides of his stone hard abdomen, and then finally down to his rear as Neuvillette grabbed his cheeks, giving them a nice, firm squeeze, sharp nails digging into the meat of them, but never breaking the skin.

“I’m showing you how much you mean to me, you’re my desire, my passion, my reason to hold firm to my rule, so that no other may touch you like this. Only me, only ever me…” Neuvillette mumbled, burying his head back into the crook of Wriothesley’s neck as he continued.

Wriothesley let out a dirty moan as Neuvillette’s fangs elongated, rooting themselves deep into his neck, and tasting of his blood. The god made sure that when he released and his fangs retracted, that the wound would heal, but leave behind a deep scar that none other would question. He made sure in the back of his mind, to order one of his underlings to immediately begin commissioning a necklace for Wriothesley, that would accentuate his looks but also have the marks forever on full display for the world to see.

At this point, Wriothesley was hard as a rock, his member leaking precum as it begged for attention, for a release, for pleasure, and Neuvillette was more than happy to oblige. Removing himself from the young man’s neck, Neuvillette moved over to Wriothesley’s lips, licking them lightly, biting at him just a smidge, before he invaded them completely, inserting his long tongue and exploring the depths within. Wriothesley greedily allowed him to do so, wrapping his arms around the neck of the god, pressing him further down so that the kiss could be deepened even further, if that was possible. Neuvillette could only smile as he continued his assault, a hand now trailing down Wriothesley’s body, feeling the differences between the two. Where Neuvillette’s body was smooth and perfect, Wriothesley’s had dark hair that covered his arms, some of his chest, and definitely trailed down to his lower regions, oozing manly features. His body, though littered with scars from the trials and tribulations of his life, only seemed to further decorate how in his own way, he was powerful and worthy to be the claimed of Neuvillette.

As the hand of the god reached Wriothesley’s member, the man groaned, still stuck in the deep and passionate kiss, continued to raise his hips up, a while leaving his lips as his member demanded any sort of friction against it. Neuvillette grabbed him, stroking up and down, thumb teasing the leaking head. The kiss finally broke as Neuvillette desired to see Wriothesley’s pleasure, as he continued to pump the member of his claimed, doing every action so perfectly and true to the wants and needs of the young man. It wasn’t long before Wriothesley was breathing hard, his body shaking as he released all over the god, thick ropes of cum shooting out and even coating Neuvillette’s chest, as if adding to the creamy skin of his claimer.

Neuvillette could only continue to smile as Wriothesley repeatedly began to apologize, ashamed of what he had done but enjoying feeling every effect his god was bestowing upon him.

“Shhh, my soul, hush now with that. I do not want your apologies for indulging in what I give freely to you. Now, roll over…” Neuvillette growled out, the animalistic side of him starting to show. Wriothesley trembled beneath Neuvillette for a moment, but the god only offered him an odd sense of assurance as he gently led Wriothesley to roll over onto his stomach, directing him to keep his chest lowered onto the bedsheets but his rear raised high, on full display to his god. The young man, still embarrassed, tried his best to hide his face within the lavish sheets of the bed, but didn’t fight back. A part of him wanted this, needed this, wanting this session they were sharing to never end.

Wriothesley felt a warmness spread throughout his core, as he assumed Neuvillette had summoned some sort of water to assist with what was about to happen. The liquid was spread along the crease of his bottom and hole, delicate and soft fingers of the god above him caressing him, touching every inch of him, as if he were savoring his very existence. It wasn’t much longer after this that he could feel an odd flesh shape being pressed against his hole, one of his dicks, Wriothesley surmised. His heart started to pick up it’s pace once more, worried that such a formidable size wouldn’t be able to fit and he would feel nothing but pain as he was tortured into the act. However, that was far from the truth.

The water continued to warm and relax the skin that it touched, his muscles feeling lose and somewhat stretched even before he knew he was being entered. Neuvillette lowered himself once more, kissing Wriothesley’s back and nibbling here and there with his fangs, building up Wriothesley’s desire for him, which he did. Once he heard the young boy beginning to pant, spreading his legs even further and raising his rear even higher, he knew he was ready. Slowly, the god started pressing the head of one of his cocks into the greedy hole of his claimed, and it accepted him with ease. Wriothesley continued to plant his head directly into the sheets of the bed, moaning so loudly and continued to pant like a dog, but he desperately wanted this, needed this. It was only a matter of time before the god was deeply planted inside of him, taking a moment to relish the feel of the warmth that his length was now experiencing. The god then started to pump into his claimed, clawed hands holding onto his waist for support.

The thrusts started out small, and careful, but the pace was quick to change. The more that Neuvillette was planted in Wriothesley, the more that he desired, so his thrusts began to continue with their assault, becoming deeper and rougher.

“Yes, yes! More, more-gah, FUCK!” Wriothesley yelled out as his thoughts started to lose all sense but being completely consumed by pleasure. Within seconds he lost the ability to form any coherent words, only feeling and appreciating the ecstasy that his god was providing for him. Time seemed to go on forever as the thrusts continued, and Wriothesley had begun grabbing onto the nearby sheets, twisting them until they were a complete mess from the perfect state that they were in before.

Another deep, animalistic growl was heard above him, which made him moan even harder, as he felt Neuvillette’s balls slap against his ass from how deep he was thrusting in, the second cock now also fully erect was also slapping against his ass, warm and thick. It seemed that the god did have some form of pity for him, as he had only inserted one of his members this time. But that didn’t stop the conquering of his mortal body. A few more grunts were heard as Wriothesley felt something spill inside of him, so very warm and copious amounts kept flooding in. The young man sighed in absolute bliss, eyes fluttering shut as his body fell down back to the bed, Neuvillette easing him back down, but keeping his member deeply planted as more cum continued to be released inside of his claimed one.

Little did Wriothesley know this was the final act to solidify their bond. The god of hydro had marked him with his essence, and it will never fade. Every god and mortal will instantly know who he belonged to, and Neuvillette will always know what he was feeling, where he was, his thoughts and feelings now completely forfeit to him.

Oh, how lucky this god truly was.

[minniiaa]

I AM FROTHING AT THE BARS OF MY ENCLOSURE!!!!11!!!!1!!!!!! YOU GOT ME BARKING

First of all, thank you ^-^ <333

You've not only satisfied my simp heart with bottom Law but also my yearn for and emotionally constipated Law being proven wrong

Second, I have more ideas or course :D

This is a gigantic leap from my previous… contributions, but I want to share my love for something I enjoy just as much as my little guys (grown ass men) getting railed in such a way it puts the trolley problem to shame. Sweet, sweet aftercare, I dunno what about it that enthralls me but just- like- I- jsbdudbskospaks-

It's an honest 50/50 whether the aftercare situations I think up actually comes after sex or if it's all I think of. It has me by the throat man.

Something about Law feeling safe enough to tell Luffy when he's had enough without feeling the need to force or threaten Luffy, or not holding out far past his limit so Luffy doesn't “get bored of him” makes my brain melt and mold back into the shape of a sea urchin.

OH, MORE THOUGHTS!!! >:0

Here me out, modern au, Law comes back to their apartment more tired than he's ever been after the longest shift he's pulled in a while. All he wants, more than anything, is their bed, screw the shower, he couldn't stand long enough to take one and he knows the moment his knee bends further than what's needed to walk his body will collapse. So he heads straight to bed, unsurprisingly, Luffy is awake and anticipating Law's return to give him his “goodnight kiss” that became the only constant thing Luffy upholds. Law tosses himself into bed as soon as he gets his pants off, leaving them on the floor along with his shirt, and Luffy is immediately on him. Not to Law's dismay, he knows he won't last long but the fact that Luffy still wants him when he's coated in sweat and deadweight kind of turns him on. He's right, he doesn't last when Luffy eats him out while running only the pad of his thumb up and down the base of Law's shaft, and GOD does everything *hurt. Law doesn't get that post-nut daze, instead he's hit with an ache deep in every muscle and bone from the souls of his feet to the back of his head that he has no choice but to succumb to. So badly does he want to feel Luffy all over him, all up in him, but he can't ignore his limit if he tries. He gets what he wants anyways, without having said a word Law's exhausted body is crushed by the concrete hold Luffy calls a hug, and Law couldn't be more grateful for Luffy's mysterious workout routine. It's the silent communication of Law's needs that relaxes him further, not needing to rely on his voice for Luffy to know, to understand, his pain makes it all the more easier to just let Luffy take care of him.

You got me out here writing paragraphs man, you've changed my chemical components on a spiritual level lol. Also, I stand by that my headcanon dumps are a bit much, so just know that I don't expect a masterpiece response every time. I MEAN THEY ARE ENCOURAGED CAUSE GYATT DAMN, would ABSOLUTELY eat your writing while dressed better than for a wedding and a napkin in my lap, but I dunno, I don't want you to think I'm trying to make you pump out tailored content for me. Definitely just like my own self-consciousness wanting me to make that clear sorry lol I think this might be the largest headcanon dump I've shared.

-💫💀💫

ANONNN I AM SO SORRY I JUST CHECKED MY INBOX AND SAW THIS BEAUTY!!

I am sooo glad you enjoyed my little oneshot I wrote and it scratched the itch of your last message. I just took that idea and RANNNNNN with it I have to admit.

I am also super happy that you came up with your own head canons omfg I'm frothing. I definitely can't write a whole story this time, but you inspired me to add some of my own little head canons because it was just too good!

You are hilarious and I am picturing you dressed for a wedding waiting for dinner but it's actually just my writing. Don't feel self-conscious, I live for this shit. You can leave headcanons whenever though I can't promise I'll be able to get back asap, I will always slurp it up and add my own thoughts if it's something that speaks to me. Maybe one day you'll decide to share your own stories and I will be the one who gets to leave my headcanons in there! :)

With that being said, here are my thoughts:

I loveee Lulaw aftercare (and just aftercare in general cause who doesn't like the sweet moments after getting your insides rearranged), especially your situation. I'm deceased at the thought of Luffy always waiting up for Law's goodnight kiss. Does he do it because he wants Law to be the last thing he sees every night before bed? Or because he wants to make sure that he's awake if Law needs him after his long hard days at work? Maybe both, Luffy is self-indulgent and also wants to do whatever he can to make Law feel loved and comfortable.

Sometimes Law needs Luffy to fuck him until he forgets about how shit his day was and how maybe he lost a patient and he just needs his mind and body filled with nothing but Luffy who can push him to the edge in unimaginable ways. Luffy never says no, he could eat Law for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. He just loves watching the way his normally tense and irritated lover falls apart underneath him. Other times, Law just needs his partner to give him a quick and much-needed release before pulling him into his arms and giving him the attention he craves when he can barely think straight after a stressful day, his body screaming at him to just shut off and let go.

Luffy knows Law so well that he never has to tell him what he wants which is great because Law is terrible about asking for things. He never wants to be a burden, never wants to feel like he's taking too much from Luffy when he's already given him everything he's ever wanted and more. Luffy feels Law's body going limp after he comes, how he sighs contently and buries his face into his chest. Law just needs him there to recharge him, to soothe his weary body and soul and Luffy loves him so much he would never think of doing anything different.

Luffy knows exactly what Law needs in those quiet moments in the dark. He runs his hands over Law's aching body, healing him with his soft touches. Soft kisses are pressed against his skin, no intent to go anywhere further behind them even though Luffy yearns to feel Law around him, to hear his pretty sounds echoing through his ears. That can wait for another time, right now he will just satisfy Law with his gentle caresses. He wraps his arms around Law, pulling his weary form into his arms, so close that he begins to forget where he ends and Law begins just the way he likes it.

Law usually gets so flustered and cranky when Luffy spills his feeling out but they've been doing this for so long now that Luffy knows Law will let him say whatever he wants when they're like this and he takes full advantage of it. He plays with Law's hair, telling him how much he loves him, how he's so lucky to have him in his life, how he wants to be with him forever. He lists all of the thing he loves about him-his compassion, dedication, strength, and beauty.

Law loves the way Luffy's voice sounds when he whispers these sweet nothings into his ear. He's so calm and quiet, so different from his normally loudmouthed self. Sometimes he responds, though usually only with a "thank you" or "I love you". Words are hard for him even though he feels just as strongly for Luffy. It brings him comfort knowing that Luffy never expects him to say anything back, that he does this simply because he wants to.

Once, in a fit of insecurity, Law asked Luffy if he feels neglected because Law is so terrible with words and even though he tries, he just can't express how he feels inside. Luffy simply smiled at him and said "I know how much you love me. You don't need to say it. I just like to tell you because sometimes you get in your head like you are right now and forget". Another time, he apologized to Luffy for being too exhausted to move a muscle after Luffy went down on him. Just like before, Luffy smiled and said "Making you feel good makes me feel good. Taking care of you makes me happy."

After that, Law realized he might just be the luckiest man in the world. He stopped worrying about if Luffy wanted or needed more from him on these days when he he couldn't give anymore. He graciously took all the affection he was given, allowing Luffy's calming voice to lull him to sleep, saying words Law would never be able to accept were all for him.

That's all for today, sorry if it was a little messy I am too tired to proofread any further. Thank you once again for the food for thought <3333

[teyvat-inks]

ocean in your soul

a/n: hi, it’s sia! the intervals of my writings are getting longer, i’m so sorry HAHAHAH i guess it’s really hard to get into the mood for writing.. i am currently on my summer break from uni and i originally planned to write a few ficlets before the semester starts but i ended up learning bass guitar instead :D i am not sure if i can write regularly but i’ll try heh anyway, this one’s inspired by impossible by nothing but thieves. see you next time!

content: nobleman!kamisato ayato x gn!reader. fluff. sinking and oceans but nothing extremely detailed. 1.5k wc.

kamisato ayato is an enigma despite being a man of prestige; he is known for his seldom public appearance, thus earning quite a reputation among the other nobles. he only attended events of utmost importance as he has been a constant subject of assassinations eversince and the few times he presented himself proved that he is capable of gathering crowds especially those who are intrigued by his persona. albeit his lack of presence, people sure love to bring up his name whenever and wherever they can. many speak of high praises and some whisper deceit, but the man himself could care any less about such trivial matters. regardless, those who worked with him already knew his diligence moreso his competence, and doing his job properly comes second to his priorities—the first one ensuring his family’s safety.

ayato can continue ignoring the speculations behind his back, or so he thinks.

many of his beliefs crumble down whenever he thinks of you. he wishes you would pay no mind to the rumors circulating around and would rather come directly to him for truth. he is a man of forthrightness except when you’re around. maybe, just maybe, he’s actually a lot more human than he thinks he is.

he used to believe that he would be devoting himself to his family and duties only, but you came to the scene unexpectedly. he thought that he could face anything that comes before him. he expected that he could easily swim out of the pool he was pushed into, instead, finding himself drowning in an ocean of you.

he loves the way your eyes glisten naturally like a pool of stars twinkling altogether. your smile makes his day a thousand times better. whenever he hears your laughter, he thinks that a year is added to his lifespan. he thinks that can spend a day on battle of wits and exchange ingenious banters with you. being the opposite and preferring to stay out of the public gaze—he is most fascinated by the way you uphold yourself everytime in public; being absent does not make him completely oblivious to you being the talk of the town. ayato is no match for the glory of your waves; crashing to the ship he hid himself away from the skies of observing eyes. and he thinks, how could a human be as deep and as dreamy as yourself?

he does not particularly enjoy small talks as he is often occupied with neverending duties as a public servant, but if it’s you, he can share a bit of a moment of the little time he has for himself. he also cherishes the tiny catch-ups when the two of you happen to bump into each other on a busy day.

ayato feels he can no longer handle the turbulence you caused in his life. he can no longer fight against the currents. he thinks that maybe he might just let the water enter his ship and let it sink. he does not mind anymore. not after hearing yet another marriage proposal turned down by you. ayato cannot allow any other noble to see how deep the ocean can be before he sees it for himself. he would rather keep you all to himself afterall. so he decides to get down on one knee before you and stop doubting himself.

he starts trembling the moment he arrives at your palace. he flashes a courteous smile to your servants and knights as if nothing, telling them not to announce his arrival. he continues to rehearse the lines he practiced last night as he take long strides toward your office. what is he going to do if you refuse? will his voice crack? unable to hide how scared he actually is? will he be unable to take a step to leave your office? will he get down on both knees and beg for your saccharine yes?

the thoughts immediately stop upon reaching the front of your office door. this is now or never. he takes a deep breath before knocking and exhales the moment he hears your voice.

“you may enter.”

ayato is welcomed by the most dazzling smile he’s ever seen in his life, he almost got blinded by how bright it was.

“oh. it’s you, lord kamisato.” you motion to him to take a seat as you finish signing one of the documents on your desk, “why must the great lord grace me with his presence in surprise? this ought to be something of utmost importance, am i right?”

“greetings, i apologize for coming unannounced. it is rather urgent, i believe that this is better discussed in person rather than in papers.” ayato chuckles. he carefully watches your every move—from putting the pen down to taking the seat in front of him.

“ah, pardon. let me call my butler first, my lord.” you are about to stand up but ayato’s hand grabs your arm hastily. you feel the warmth of his hand despite the gloves he is wearing. he is supposed to have his hands cold and sweaty but somehow it’s the opposite.

“no!” he mentally curses himself for being all over the place, “i meant, there is no need for tea. and for archon’s sake, drop the formalities.”

“is that so...”

“yes.” ayato is getting jittery as seconds pass.

he isn’t speaking, however his gaze is fixed on you. it’s making you nervous, as if he bears bad news. “ayato?” the way you speak his name is soft but enough to get him out of his trance.

“right. my apologies.” he chuckles dryly.

“are you alright? is this a heavy matter?” your brows furrow.

“yes. this is a heavy matter.” ayato breathes out. this is the first time you witness him this distressed. you do not make an effort to hide the worried expression creeping on your face upon hearing his words. your mind suddenly gets engulfed by questions you are unable to ask him.

“please proceed immediately ayato. i’m getting nervous.” you tell him impatiently.

ayato takes a deep breath to release some tension in his body. he cannot hide his pathetic side anymore but this must go on. he clears his throat and he feels the adrenaline rushing in his veins as he opens his mouth to speak.

“marry me.”

ayato jumps into the ocean.

no way he rehearsed over and over for him to completely go out of script. he flinches from the way his voice sounded, skin crawling from the tone he spoke. he watches your expression morphing into something he cannot decipher.

“i-” ayato is cut off by you.

you sigh in relief, “finally.”

“what?” he is caught completely off-guard. “did i hear that right?”

“i said, i am honored to have your offer, my lord,” you feign innocence, “despite making me all nervous as hell.”

“no, i think i heard you say something before that.”

“you definitely did not.” your eyes flash a hint of mischief, something ayato cannot ignore.

“were you truly waiting for my proposal? is that why you keep on refusing all this time?” ayato sounds genuinely curious it infuriates you.

“what makes you think that?” you utter with a firm voice.

he looks so dejected by your words, mouth agape. you cannot fathom how much power and effect you have on him right now. it is scary. ayato is not one to directly express displeasure through his face. he always keeps his composure and this situation makes you think that you are in a dream.

“forgive me for playing you like that, ayato. you’re never wrong anyway. truth is i was already preparing myself to grow stiff and stuttering alone, never thought this day will actually come.” ayato notices how your gaze softens, “i’m glad you asked.”

ayato feels the cold air slap his hands. he searches the carriage for his gloves to no avail. he realizes he must have forgotten it in your office. he sighs in disappointment. how can he forget his belongings just like that? he notices something glisten from his finger.

a piece of shiny metal sitting on his ring finger.

the rest of the talk is hazy, ayato is unable to recall how he wore the ring. his heightened emotions earlier caused him to lose focus on the situation, he knows one thing nevertheless.

you are now engaged. with him. that is all that matters. anything else can come after he gets home and rest for the day. he did not get a wink of sleep anyway.

ayato feels the water engulf him whole; he is slowly sinking to your ocean. he lets the water pull him down until he can no longer see the light from the midnight zone, sinking deeper and deeper down towards the abyss. and he does not mind any of it all.

ayato thinks he could drown himself in someone like you, he could dive so deep he can never come out.

he thought it was impossible, but you made it possible.

[scarlettatg]

The Handmaids Tale

A good man

Episode 402 Nightshade

Maybe there are no good men in Gilead.

I think there are good men everywhere. Even here. It's just complicated, you know? Gilead makes it really hard to be good.

Episode 409 Progress

Yeah, you've got a good man in Gilead who can help you now.

That's true.

Episode 510 Safe

If it was up to me, I'd take you at your word.

Not sure how much my word is worth right now.

I'd call you an honorable man.

Episode 510 Safe

You're a liar. You say that because you want to feel like you're a good man.

It’s interesting to me how by the end of the season, at first glance Rose doesn’t think Nick is a good man simply because he’s in love with somebody else. But by Gilead standards though he is a good man. He is a comander that appears to be up and rising and he has a pregnant wife, upholding those good ol’ Gilead values where love isn’t a priority.

Why did you pretend that you loved me? I do love you. (Just not the way Nick loves June which is pretty much the same situation June is in in terms of how she now feels about Luke-but that’s a topic for another post). The thing is Rose knew about June. She didn’t seem to mind him helping June, as long as her privileged position in Gilead wasn’t threatened. Maybe she assumed that after Fred, Nick would be done with June and because she knew he is a good man he would then focus on moving forward with life he had to make in Gilead in order to survive - just like June had to do in Canada (Hey june try to be happy. You too). This means that she was ok with Nick committing treason by helping June and by setting up a founding father (like her father) to be killed. That tells me that she was ok with being with a man she knew didn’t love her and that she was content with a Gilead marriage. Why? I think it was simply because it gave her what she wanted. Power and privilege acquired on her own and not because of who her father is. The moment Nick threatened that status for her, he stopped being a good man, and that began when he killed Putnam. Rose had a problem with Nick killing Putnam but she didn’t seem to have a problem with the fact that Putnam raped a young girl. Again that tells me that as long as she could keep the status that being a wife with child gave her she really didn’t mind Gilead and she believed she could acquire that with Nick. She had to make the appeal to her father to marry Nick and I always assumed that statement meant she had to plead with her father to be able to marry Nick since she’s the daughter of a high commander and Nick wasn’t in the same level as her. She wasn’t forced to marry him, she chose to marry him and if she chose him, it was because she believed he was a good man. For Rose, Nick was a good man as long as he could give her what she wanted. Once that fell apart he stopped being a good man for her.

Now in contrast June has never really doubted Nick. At first he was all she had. Even now with her being in Canada you can tell he’s the only person she fully trusts. During the first seasons she could’ve easily had him put on the wall, but instead by the end of Season 1 she chose to trust him and get in the van. Just like in season 4 she trusted him and she let herself be captured. Even after not seeing him and even after finding out he was part of the take over, for June he has always been a good man. Even with the constant ambiguity that surrounds his characters given to us by the show, if we put the pieces together we can easily see that Nick is a good man that has had to make questionable choices.

[mslanna]

The Clock Won't Stop

Chapter 26 of Be My Guest up on AO3

In which Tav suffers.

The steps out of the Devil's Fee were the heaviest Tav remembers. It doesn't get better on the city streets. Still they press on – away from the House of Hope. Away from Raphael. From the ruin of their life and hopes built on the ever-shifting ground of Avernus. They will be back soon enough.

The taste of blood is a constant companion in the first days, their lip in a perpetual state of distress. In contrast, the red marks on Tav's skin fade. One after the other, the reminders of what could have been recede into their skin, leaving nothing but empty yearning.

Astarion catches them that fateful night. But he is in no shape himself to care for the lethargic lump that is his friend. The seaside is a better place for recuperation, a cosy spot in a safe tower. Tav doesn't resist, and Gale did invite them. They part with one fresh mark on their skin. A reminder that friendship will hold true when love and hope do not.

Gale is a gracious host. He recognises Tav's state and with utmost understanding nurtures the tiny flames of wanting and healing. When the chance arises, he sends them back to Baldur's Gate as guard to one of his students. It is not the adventuring life Tav remembers but it is enough. The sense of being needed, having a purpose, fans their flames of wanting to live.

Tav takes up adventuring again. It keeps them on the move, on their toes, their mind occupied by things that are not Raphael, his war in the hells, - is he even still alive? The panicked pang in their chest stops Tav in their tracks. What if he dies? What if yet another devil decides to uphold their contract just to spite the uppity cambion?

Instead of an arch devil's call, Karlach comes. Tav can't believe their eyes, or their own body, pressed flush against their friend’s in a tight embrace. They can't believe the infernal engine is fixed just like that. They can't believe it was Raphael's doing. They can't believe the price he asked, or rather, did not.

"As if you didn't look out for me anyway!" Tav leans against the tiefling. "Couldn't stop you if I wanted to."

"Quite right. And I will have an easier time of it now. Wyll is talking to his father and we will stay in Baldur's Gate. Maybe he will be his father's successor. Maybe he will just keep protecting the city he loves." Karlach sighs contently. "Either way, we will be happy there."

"I'm so happy for both of you." If they didn't cling to each other already, Tav would have hugged their friend now. To see at least somebody find their happy ever after was soothing. It makes them feel less stupid for trying, for believing.

And hope keeps burning them. When the small things start adding up, almost deaths and near misses – somebody is keeping close tabs and ensuring their survival. Tav can't really oppose it – it keeps them alive and their soul out of Raphael's clutches. But the intention isn't clear. Is he flaunting his power? Trying to impress them? Trying to prove that his hands are a safe place for their soul to be? Tav can't parse it.

And instead of Raphael, explaining in his most condescending tone of voice what it is that Tav is missing, another devil comes to visit, their skin midnight blue and barely discernible against the night sky. But there is no way Tav wouldn't recognise that self-satisfied saunter approaching their little camp.

Magnificent horns curve up over a face even more boyish and mischievous than before, a second set curls around their ears. White teeth gleam in the light of the fire outlining a most predatory grin.

"Haarlep? What are you doing here?" Tav forgets to stand up and just stares. How did the incubus get around the traps guarding their camp? They littered them abundantly, due to recent developments in the ambush department.

"Gloat, what does it look like?" They sit down with the liquid grace of water running down a stick, close enough for Tav to feel the heat emanating from their infernal body. "The five hells are run with an iron fist and a lot less lenience than I expected. So of course I need to visit the adorable little blimp causing it all."

They stretch their legs and warp and arm and wing around Tav. "So tell me, little mouse, how have you been."

Tav's first impulse is to be honest. Even after everything, that light-hearted tone makes the world feel a little more alright. And their arm and wing are warm around Tav’s shoulders are familiar comforts from a time they miss dearly.

They’ll indulge, only for a moment, Tav tells themself, as they lean against the offered shoulder. A little nostalgia and a few white lies. Where is the hurt in that? "Better," they reply softly. "With every day."

"He's still quiet hung up on you, you know? I can tell, because I know him, the other devils – I think not." They nudge the human in their hold. "One day you have to tell me what went down."

"I don't think so, Haarps." Tav sighs. "I don't think any information is safe with you."

"I am wounded. Deeply hurt even. When I was thinking I could rely forever on the goodness of your little, squishy heart." The incubus chuckles. "Was it not in good hands where you put it, huh?"

Tav doesn't reply. It is comforting to be back in a devil's embrace even if it is the wrong devil. At least this one isn't after their soul. Because they can't have it. Tav presses their eyes shut. The very first thing Haarlep did was shoot for their soul. The only reason they don't own now it was because Tav sold their body instead.

Maybe all devils are the same after all. Maybe hoping Raphael's human side had some influence was a mistake. "How is he doing as arch devil?"

"Oh absolutely fantastic. Archdevil of Five Hells has quite a ring to it, does it not." Haarlep shakes them gently. "And he is so full of rage and anger and suppressed emotions that he is most strict with his rules. Order reigns supreme. And where is doesn't buckets of blood and vermilion entrails make up for it. It is delicious."

"The other devils didn't expect that?" Tav frowns.

"Absolutely not. They expected him to be soft and lenient. Didn't he indulge each day every day, having a tiny mortal at his side?" They lean in to whisper into Tav's ear. "He never once asked me to indulge with your form, you know? Whatever pent up emotions swirl through his silly head are definitely amplified by his lack of relief."

"Who mans the boudoir now?" Tav wonders.

"Some incubus or succubus or other. It has become quite a place of honour to host since our little brat turned so powerful. Not to mention every other devil is striving for a more – permanent position at his side."

"What about me?"

"What about you? You're not there are you? And before…" Haarlep trails off. "Well, you were seen at his side, were you not?"

I was, Tav thought immediately. But under what circumstance? After battle. Glued to his side on the way to their suite. Haustier, the word echoes. In what function were they visible in the House of Hope? A pet. An indulgence. A cheeky mortal fucking over their station.

Tav's hand moves to their throat unthinking, finding only smooth skin where scabs used to be.

"I see I gave you a lot to think about." Haarlep rises. "You'll excuse me. I have a lot of people to make happy. Ecstatically happy, I might add. So many juicy souls to feast on. Thanks to you." They lean down and snatch Tav's hand for a kiss on the knuckles. "Don't be a stranger, little mouse."

They vanish and Tav stares into their small fire, shivering in the sudden cold. The night is lonely and empty, even their thoughts dwell in far Avernus, grappling with who they thought they were and who they might have been. They didn't feel like a pet. But communication with Raphael went awry before.

Tav buries their head in their hands. Everything is a mess. They are grateful for being on their own, the chance to just shatter under the turmoil of feelings – burning hope, raging frustration, bitter yearning. They let the maelstrom carry them away, chasing the certainty that they were more than a kept plaything.

There isn't much time for despair, though. Tav picks up quiet noises approaching their camp from several sides. An unfortunate development that increased recently. People kept attacking them Not to kill – so far – but seemingly to capture.

Tav can't make sense of it. Surely Raphael wouldn't stoop to that. He knows he can just come and talk. Explain how he now understands what went wrong. If he managed to wrap his devil mind around it. One day. Tav hopes.

Still, that leaves some wannabe kidnappers to deal with. Tav sighs. They hate it. Still they ready a spell and their weapon, trusting the traps around the camp to work despite Haarlep’s ease getting around them.

Tav barely stands when the screaming starts. They raise a brow. None of the traps should cause such terrified noises. Or that much pain. They follow the sound that is abating into a whimper already and is drowned out by more shouting from all sides.

A short and frantic war breaks out and ends before Tav reaches the first victim. They reach a mangled body on the ground, close to one of their still intact traps. A young woman is deftly patting down the corpse, disregarding the wet sounds as she pilfers through the flesh for valuables.

"Nice traps." She stands and mock-salutes before she vanishes herself and he body in a surge of hellfire.

Similar puffs flash around the camp. How many people has Raphael sent? To protect them? To attack them? Both? Tav rubs their temples and turns back to their fire. They should stop travelling alone.

Tav stops in their tracks when they see the familiar figure in the shadows on the other side of their camp. Raphael looks so small in his human form. Tav almost forgot. Their eyes meet and memories wash over them – warm and unwelcome. A life they could have had.

Raphael crosses his arms and looks impatient as if he expects something. What does he want? Gloat? Drive home the point that they are at his mercy – one way or another?

No. They cannot let such thoughts win out. If Raphael is here – Tav shakes their head to clear their mind of such intrusive thoughts and find reason. When they look up again, he is gone.

Tav bites their lip. It doesn't help chase away the pain in their chest, not even when it starts tasting of blood. The night is cold and empty again with a fire that doesn't warm them.

"Maybe he's trying to tell you something." Karlach suggest when Tav tells them.

"Well, why doesn't he just tell me then?" Tav doesn't like the squeak in their words. But it is grinding them down. Each time Raphael interferes, there is the painful surge of hope that this time – this time – they'd talk.

But he doesn't appear in person again while the attempts on Tav's life increase in frequency and intensity. Maybe his appearance was a final warning? With each passing day, Tav fears they knew their devil even less than they thought. It hurts and doesn't stop.

[maningrey0204]

for character ask meme, emiya alter ^^

(based on this post)

thank you, anon :D I hope I'm not too late to this ask meme thing in the FGO fandom, because I will happily gush about Emiya Alter to anyone who asks. that man needs more love.

favorite thing about them just one? all right. Emiya Alter's gone through so much-to the point where it clearly had lasting & damaging effects on him-the nihilism, abysmally poor memory, self-destructive tendencies, etc etc. he's symbolic of the "Hero of Justice" role to its furthest ends, a "weapon" meant to be of service whilst his own identity is pretty much an afterthought. but he also dives for Melt, giving her the second chance he never had. he guides Ritsuka out of his own hellish mindscape, and gives them a tow cable-a lifeline-for a Valentine's gift. he assists Voyager in saving Erice, and there's at least one or two lines where he can relate to her being an agent of death. there's hope for him yet, even though he's reached his own tragic ending. his ideas of "help" can be messed up, obviously, but he's going out of his way to try if nothing else. moreover, he needs some peace of mind after basically going through hell and back.

least favorite thing about them his original JPN design, obviously. the racism surrounding it has become indelible and synonymous with his character. obviously we don't know for sure, but it would not surprise me to learn that the reason he's received little attention in Craft Essence art is because of the controversy surrounding his character.

favorite line "Don't apologize. Good intentions are like sandpaper." I've probably analyzed this line to death, but I believe it summarizes Emiya Alter perfectly: a man whose own charity and constant vigilance for justice has eaten away at him. at the same time, he tries to disregard his own state of being as if it's no big deal; however, since he does not perceive himself as human anymore, the outcome is a lot more distressing than perhaps he might expect.

brOTP maybe Assassin Kiritsugu? I know, I know, Kiritsugu's basically a father to Emiya, but Assassin diverged from his own path in Fate/Zero so I'm sure it's fine here. my other brOTP idea is of him secretly thinking Hijikata's swordmanship is cool, even if he can't understand why Hijikata's so hellbent on upholding the Shinsengumi all the time. I can also see Alter putting up with Tamamo Berserker's outrageous behaviour towards him in a "I can't stand this, but she won't stop and it'd be a waste of energy" kind of way, and it developing into a strange but heartwarming bond later on.

OTP Emiya Alter x Yan Qing. I've only seen one (1) piece of content about it on pixiv, but they've got enough similarities (being Shinjuku villain Servants and having identity issues) and differences (Alter's serious and to the point, forging weapons-while Yan Qing is more flippant in a laid-back manner, using his fists & feet as weapons) that I'd love to write a fic shipping the two of them.

nOTP apparently a few people have shipped Alter with Kiara, of all people. I'm also personally not very fond of the Emiya Alter x Jalter pairing.

random headcanon Emiya prefers to eat alone, but he'll tolerate it if other Alters sit at his table. he wishes Nitocris Alter would stop talking about death so evocatively, as if it were a service she were performing upon other people; he sees death as an aid to his toolkit, and nothing more.

unpopular opinion I love his edgelord behaviour. it's incredibly comical how cynical he gets (his brooding over board games in BGA comes too mind), which is part of the reason. but there's something that just hits in how played straight his character usually is, and how genuine the depths of his despair go.

song i associate with them No title by Reol. a fitting song name for someone who's wholly embraced being Nameless. the chorus' lyrics particularly come to mind: Slowly and gently, it crumbles and breaks Wrap it slowly around my neck til I can't breathe And the me from yesterday was killed Slowly and gently, our scattered ennui When I hear you speak so unethically It turns to a voice I don't know

favorite picture of them he doesn't have a lot of FGO art, but I've always loved Emiya Alter's Formal Dress CE. it's sleek, sharp and overall just...so cool-looking. the pinstripe suit brings his self-ascribed mercenary role to a focal point; such suits are typically worn in professional settings, natch. then there's the smaller details, like the gears on his tie and how the tie bar on it has a Chaldean symbol. I also appreciate how his grey polo shirt is strained, emphasizing his muscles and torso.

[themightykirin]

The Beautiful Little Dragon

Once upon a time, a princess gave birth to a beautiful little purple monster.

The princess was startled, though excited, and even captivated by the little creature, for it was surely her own, even though she had expected a normal human child.  She didn’t know she could have a dragon baby.  The princess’s primary concern was that she wouldn’t know how to properly care for her. The prince however was overjoyed and expressed this was exactly what he was hoping for.

The princess, glad to hear that news, embraced the little purple dragon, with yellow flowers growing out of its head like tiny horns, and rosy red cheeks, and named her Flora.

As Flora grew it was apparent that although she was very sweet, and did not have a malicious, contrary bone in her little dragon body, she was very emotional, passionate, sensitive, and curious.  She often climbed on things, broke things, spit fire, had trouble sleeping, and screamed and cried almost constantly if she wasn’t being actively distracted by her mother the princess.

Weary as the princess was, she loved her little dragon baby and did the best she could for her, knowing it was not the baby’s fault the situation was hard for all of them.  She kept constant vigil and extinguished the small flames wherever necessary.  During the day she would take the baby out for walks, exploring for hours and hours.  It was the only thing that seemed to make the baby happy.  And although the child was unique and a little volatile, people frequently paused to see the royal baby dragon and remarked on her little flower horns and her rosy pink cheeks, and expressed that she had the perfect name.  And it made the princess happy.

Only a year later, the princess found herself expecting another baby with her husband the prince.  This time however, the baby was quite normal, and looked very like the princess in terms of face, and fair skin, and hair color.  And he was a boy.  The second child of the royal couple was a son.

The son did not spit flames.  He did not scream and cry at all hours.  He slept well.  And he was generally a happy child, requiring little more than to be held close for a time during the day, and then he was content on his own or to play with his sister.

Unfortunately, being part of a royal line, the family had expectations to uphold.  Ceremonies were to be attended.  There were priests, and fine clothing, and many witnesses to things such as coronations, baptisms, funerals, and annual celebrations.  The princess found it difficult, if not impossible, to manage the little dragon princess and her brother.  By the time they arrived in the carriage, the baby princess began to fuss and cry again and the princess knew she could not take her into the cathedral. Beside herself and with tears in her eyes, she looked to her husband the prince, and said “I don’t know what to do.“ But instead of sharing her pain, appreciating how hard she was trying for them all, or even the smallest display of sympathy... Flames erupted from his mouth in anger. “Well then I don’t know how to help you!“  And he stormed off.

The baby dragon in her arms began to cry, and the princess stood in shock, processing what had just happened.  Her dress was scorched.  Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheek..

What just happened...?

Years went by, and the baby dragon and her brother got along surprisingly well.  They shared a love of music and adventure and all the animals that lived in the forest.   Accidents would happen sometimes, as they do in any family.  Small cuts and bruises from playing too recklessly with one another.  The baby prince ended up with a very small burn mark above his right eye from his sister, but for the most part, all was well with them, and the family grew and adapted together.  The baby princess dragon, over time, learned to accept her fire abilities, and honed them for good use, but it was not without its accidents.

These accidents and variations from normal babies angered the prince. Often,  the glint of sparks flashed behind his teeth as he spoke.  And sometimes, the fire spat out suddenly in big flames, and even singed the princess as before.  Each time left her heartbroken, confused, and feeling very alone, with the little prince in her arms, and the baby dragon at her side, both looking to her for comfort and support, and guidance..

There had been many times when the princess attempted to get her husband, the prince, help to manage his temper, and not have it affect their children the way it was.  But ultimately, he didn’t want help.  He didn’t even want to admit he was able to spit flames like a dragon.  He often outright denied the existence of the flames. And the conflict grew to a point that if she expressed any discontent, or concern, or tried to address the problem, it only made things worse.

Until one day,  By this point, she hardly said anything at all.  Not about problems, not about joy, not about sadness.  So much had fallen on deaf ears, and she was scared, and hurt, and worried for the future, and felt sorrow.  She wanted better than this for her children.. She hardly said anything at all, trying to keep her husband’s flame low.. and even that was too much.

The prince had gotten angry over discontent within the kingdom.  Upon meeting the princess, his wife, he accused her of the viewpoint he opposed without hearing a word she had to say, convinced she was against him.  He wouldn’t hear otherwise and shouted over her to silence her. He advanced on her and spat flames like he never had before, and the princess was burned.

When he stormed away, she found herself, again, in tears, confused, bewildered.. and deeply injured.  Her heart shattered into hundreds of thousands of pieces like an egg on the cobblestones.

It was clear, this was no place for her children, nor for herself.  She no longer had a voice to defend them, and none of them were safe.

So she quietly, patiently, began to gather up all that was necessary.. And she took her children out of their castle.. and back to her little cottage in the woods, with the animals; the rabbits, the deer, the little song birds and the chimpunks. And they toasted breads and sweets on the flames in the hearth, provided by her oldest child, the beautiful little dragon.