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mythblossoms · 2 months ago

Text

cherry wine

pairing: sylus x gn!reader

content: mutual pining, slight angst, music used as metaphor (poorly), pre-relationship, hand holding and dancing

a/n: sometimes a specific scene sticks in your head and you have to write something around that only. i also just love the sound of a cello ;-;

wc: ~1.4k

Music was honest. It spoke plainly about its desires and was vulnerable. The melodies openly conveyed emotions and stories, imploring those who heard to succumb to their passions. There is a beauty in patterns and themes laced between the harmonies.

At the least, that’s what Sylus told himself as he leaned casually against the gilded pillars decorating the gala floor.

Your invitation to some musicians gala hadn’t been unexpected - the connections and intel privy to him had become a bonus to your missions, and Sylus was happy to oblige. But your openness, that was new. Your willingness to reach out and discuss tactics and invite him as something more, more than a source of knowledge at least.

He was happy to watch you work, your acting skills so finely honed now as you smiled coyly at other guests perched at the bar - your eyes, in contrast, sharply focused on your surroundings. You were an unknown force in your element, poised to strike.

The musicians began their arrangement, the opening notes notifying the guests of the story they aimed to tell.

The aching thrum of the cello, the pining glide of the violin - woven together to create a song of want, grounded by a repetition of keys played softly on the piano. Sylus knows the story that inspired the peaks and valleys of this piece - the undying devotion of some underworld god to his spring bride, the names long forgotten but the sentiments still clinging to the notes. For you, I will wait. For you, I will suffer time and space.

His eyes find your form across the gala floor. You, so warmly illuminated by the overhead chandeliers, cherry wine in hand and the pomegranate stain of your lips. Would you also eat the seeds — if offered? Would you stay — if asked? Your eyes flicked to his, offering a near imperceptible nod in his direction. For you, he would ask again and again.

The low lament of the cello hums through the room as your eyes leave his, searching the faces of each passerby as you swirl the untouched wine. Reasonably, Sylus knows that once you’ve completed your mission, you’ll be gone again. And he will wait again, until he is needed, until you are ready. The constant refrain his own frustrating internal melody - wait, wait, wait — again, again, again. He did not have the patience of some ancient god, and the yearning notes of the song left a sour taste in his mouth.

As the music swells, melodic and mournful, Sylus finds himself pulled to you. He moves across the floor slowly, yet purposefully, eyes never leaving your face.

“Dance with me.” Sylus offers his open palm to you, an open invitation, the corner of his mouth lifting into a slight smirk.

You swirl the wine again in your glass, watching as the dark red liquid briefly coats the glass before settling. “Do you always ask people to dance to tragic love songs?” you mused, placing the glass on the bar. It’s easy, like this, pretending to be two strangers drawn together by the fervor of the strings. The hunger of their pitch echoing the feeling in your chest.

“There’s a - sincerity to tragedy that makes it more memorable.” And for a moment, he seems far away, some distant memory clinging to the edge of his vision before he’s raising an eyebrow at you again.

“People will think you’re some sort of brooding crow.” You tease and gently take his hand, letting him guide you to the near empty floor.

“Do you think I care what people think, sweetheart?” Sylus smirks again, lightly holding your hand in one and splaying his other across your lower back. He pulls you in closer, chests nearly touching as he leans in closely. “I’m more interested in what your eyes see.” His warm breath sends a jolt of electricity down your spine.

Logically, you think he means finding your target. Your vantage point from the center of the room certainly allows you to see more faces than you could from your singular place at the bar. And yet - the gentle way he holds your hand, the warm touch on your lower back, the softness in his eyes as he searches yours - you consider the outcomes of being bold, of being honest.

Your hand flattens against the base of his neck, a thrum of energy flowing between the closeness of your bodies - your eyes fixed solely on his. “I’m not sure I’ve seen enough to make an informed decision.” The air stills around you, time seemingly frozen in this moment as the energy between you intensifies, the magnification of something bigger than both of you. “I’ll keep looking though.”

The far away look returns to his eyes, his brow furrowing slightly - unexpressed sentiments hanging in the air. The instruments die down, the lack of sound somehow deafening in your ears, and Sylus slowly releases your waist - breaking the chord that hummed so loudly between you.

Before you can step away, he captures your hand in both of his. Delicately, he lifts your palm to his lips and presses a light kiss in the center, holding your gaze before fully releasing you. Your palm tingles with warmth as you squeeze your hand shut, tucking it at your side. “Careful - don’t look too far or you may lose sight of what you're searching for.” His words feel ambiguous, leaving you sifting through context and emotion, the two swirling together as he steps closer. “On your right,” he murmurs before casually walking towards the exit.

This is why pretending is easier, why leaving is easier - even when you knew you would come back. Staying meant confronting whatever ambiguity grasped onto each look or word between you and Sylus. Leaving granted space, a moment to breathe. Exhaling, you locked onto the man on your right, surrounded by others clinging onto whatever syrupy words he spun. Leaving meant gaining some control of this situation.

Sylus did not have the patience of long forgotten gods, but he did have their petulance. Standing at the end of the long hallway, shrouded in the shadow of a pillar - surely this is the type of brooding expected of a deity.

Twice you managed to catch him in a moment. Twice, a fleeting sense of clarity that was quickly broken once he realized his surroundings and the scenario you both were in. You had truly looked at him this time, as if you could see each miniscule crack that deepened each moment spent together then apart. He felt a seismic shift beneath layers of protection he had spent so many years building up. The notes of the cello reverberated through Sylus’s mind, blending with his internal symphony - wait, wait, wait, for you. He had no clear path forward to you, no seeds to offer you - only the notes of song urging patience.

Footsteps interrupted his ruminations, the sound resonating down the hall moving closer to him. He doesn’t need to look up to know it’s you, the familiar determination underneath the light sound - letting you come to him. “Caught what you needed, kitten?” The teasing nickname falls easily from his lips, but he’s searching your face again - looking for something, anything to flicker across your face. Your determined mask remains in place and you’re barely slowing down as you pass him — leaving again.

“His notes were…off-key,” you state plainly, stepping out into the cool night air. Sylus huffs a laugh in response, bad intel. “But not a total loss, he had some interesting friends. Guess I’ll have to look closer.” There’s a subtle curtness to your voice, dismissive even, as you navigate the city street - Sylus still trailing behind.

“Be patient,” he almost bites out, the irony not lost on him. “True motives always reveal themselves, in the end.”

You stopped abruptly in front of him, turning to face him with a boldness he’d grown fond of. “And if I’m not patient?” Your words are clear, daring to hold his gaze. “What if I’m impulsive?”

“The power is in your hands then - you have to decide how you want to proceed.” Another dance, another song — laced with hidden meanings. Your eyes soften slightly - were you playing the same tune? Did you understand the notes played under his words? Sylus extends his hand to you again, palm open and still. “For now, let’s get you home.”

You smile lightly, the corners of your lips slightly turned up. “It’s early for you - isn’t it?” You take his hand, gently lacing your fingers with his. “Why don’t you take me on the scenic route?”

#love & deepspace x reader #love & deepspace sylus #l&ds sylus #sylus x reader #sylus x you #love and deepspace x reader #lnds x reader #l&ds x reader #love and deepspace #love & deepspace #love and deepspace sylus #lnds sylus #i've had the scene about cherry wine and pomegranate stains in my head for like two weeks #also thank you francesca by hozier and the great longing of an unquiet heart by luke howard for fueling this #ᯓ✧#kai𓂃🖊#⋆ ˚｡𓅨⋆｡°#m: l&ds

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wangxianficfinder · 4 months ago

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In the mood for...

Oct 13th

~*~

1. hi i want to read fanfics in which lwj saves wwx and wens. thank you!

IF by Remma3760 (Not Rated, 94k, WangXian, QingJue, Aftermath of Violence, Canon Divergence, Everybody Lives, Fix-It of Sorts, BAMF LWJ, Golden Core Reveal) LWJ immediately goes to the Jin camp, gets there first, & chooses to act to save the Wens

🔒 Sick Bed Reserved In Gusu Lan by scifigeek14 (T, 14k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Sick fic, Hurt/Comfort, Happy Ending, Golden Core Reveal, Fix-It) WWX & the Wens get sick & go to Gusu for help, & LWJ lets them in

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2. Hello! Thank you for the amazing recs! Loving it! For the next In the mood for (hehehe I'm greedy), does anyone know any fics with Sect Leader Lan Zhan? Thank you! @lostandmessedup

🔒The Straightest Path by meyari (T, 30k, WangXian, NieLan, MingLi, ChengSang, war and death Grief/Mourning, Politics, plotting for neuroatypicals, Autistic LWJ, WWX Has ADHD, Non-Canon Relationship, I killed Lan Zhan's family, No Yīn Iron, Sect Leader LWJ)

golden when the day met the night by glitteringmoonlight (Not rated, 95k, slow burn, sugar daddy LWJ, light, angst, fluff, developing relationship, eventual smut, WIP)

Discarded by teawater (E, 187k, WIP, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dying Lan children, Hurt/Comfort, YL WWX, Golden Core Reveal, Case Fic, Depression, Family Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Self Confidence Issues, Self-Worth Issues, Angst with a Happy Ending, and it’s not always dark, POV Multiple, BAMF WWX, dubious morals in the Lan sect Feels, Pining, Grief, Fix-It, BAMF LWJ)

Temptation by Karmiya (E, 23k, WangXian, JYL & WWX, WIP, Sect Leader LWJ, domestic abuse)

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3. ITMF a) video game crossovers and b) fics where the boys playing video games is a big part of the story. 🎮 (Side note if a Stardew AU doesn't exist yet, someone really needs to get on that) @linderel

No A/B/O / Omegaverse, thank you

3A)

🔒 Season of Resurrection by Pyrrti (G, 1k, WangXian, Sky: Children of the Light Fusion, POV Multiple, Pre-Relationship, Reunions, POV LSZ, POV LWJ, POV WWX)

To Let It Bloom by Broken_Synchronicity (T, 2k, WangXian, WWX & Everyone, WIP, Modern with Magic, Stardew Valley Fusion, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, WCZ & CSSR are still dead sorry, Family Bonding, WCZ & JFM are related, Farmer WWX, Librarian LWJ, Genius WWX, MXY Lives, Grief/Mourning, WWX is gonna solve world hunger or die trying, Slow Burn, Getting to Know Each Other, Tall WWX) Omg I can't believe I didn't pay attention to 3 because HEY I STARTED WRITING A STARDEW AU FIC NOT A WEEK BEFORE THIS POST 🤣

Yearning for a Star by The_Gourmet_Gamer (M, 18k, WangXian, WIP, Modern, Inspired by Stardew Valley, Omega Verse, Alpha LWJ, Omega WWX, Misunderstandings, First Kiss, First Time, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Forbidden Love, Jealous LWJ, Possessive LWJ, Magic)

3B)

Dreams of Cultivation by mortuus_lingua (M, 97k, WangXian, XiCheng, SongXiao, Themes, LWJ Uses Actual Words, Nonbinary NHS, Nonbinary XXC, BAMF WQ, Modern AU, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Oblivious WWX, Protective JC, Cinnamon Roll WN, Developing Relationship)

5000 IQ hanguangjun gameplay scores him a boyfriend by orphan_account (Not rated, 5k, wangxian, streamer au, among us, getting together, identity reveal)

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4. Hello, Itmf please 🤗

Want to read a scene where wq says to WY that jc won't be a good leader if lack of core breaks his will to leave. And blaming wy for lotus pier fall shows his lack of common sense and clear judgement. And maybe about choking and who will protect him afterwards? Like how can you trust this person as a leader and family member

Maybe about some ethics in wq.

Never Again by Hauntcats (T, 67k, WWX & WN & WQ, JC & WWX, wangxian, graphic depictions of violence, major character death, Canon Divergence, Angst, Golden Core Transfer Fix-It, Time Travel Fix-It, Not JC Friendly, Dark, BAMF WWX, mentions of abuse, Not Everyone Dies au, XY doesn’t have a happy ending)

The Core Issue by Hauntcats (T, 21k, WangXian, Angst with a Happy Ending, Not JC Friendly, Canon Divergence)

Lay my body down by tawaen (M, 48k, WWX & WQ, WWX & WN, wangxian, WWX & JYL, Canon Divergence, Time Travel, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Eventual WangXian, No Golden Core Transfer, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, What if WWX saw the first siege of the burial mounds and said Nope to the war, OCs, OC point-of-view for one chapter for plot reasons) Bonus: a core transfer doesn't happen but Wen Ning helps Wei Ying see how poorly he's been treated by Jiang Cheng in the second chapter

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5. Hellour! This is for the next imtf,

Any fics where lwj's personalities just like flips? Maybe he gets hit with a curse or a talisman and suddenly those repressed lonely teenage boy is out in the open. It can be post-canon or in the cloud recess arc i dont mind. Any au works. (but no wip please! Or any time travel fics)

beneath six layers of silk by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 12k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon Compliant, Getting Together, Confessions, Curses, Embarrassment, Vulnerability, Swearing, Dirty Talk, Hand Jobs, Angst, Fluff, Smut, Honesty, Communication, beneath six layers of silk by darkredloveknot [podfic] by Rhea314 (Rhea) )

old wounds, like hidden ghosts by wordsonpage (T, 2k, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Dark LWJ, but like accidentally, Angst and Feels, Happy Ending)

Rarely Pure and Never Simple by thunderwear (Not Rated, 3k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Truth Spells, Curses, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Post CQL, Getting Together)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, wangxian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining)

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6. Hello, I wonder if there is some fic where Nie Huaisang is sect leader for some time. And I don't mean post canon or post Mingjue's death. I mean mostly when Nie Mingjue is alive and well but Nie Huaisang was made to be acting sect leader for whatever reason or temporary reason.

Wandering Eyes (That Nie Mingjue will gouge out if he notices, Father, STOP) by AstaraelWeeps (M, 14k, 3zun, NHS & JGY, time travel, fix it, scheming)

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7. Looking for fic that treat Jiang Cheng as the complex character he is - Lynchpin is a fave because he's not "all good" just doing his best after learning some hard lessons. More of that kind of story? Happy ending and of course no JC bashing. @kimboo-york

Jiang Cheng Friendly / Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation

❤️ Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste for williedustice (T, 36k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Adoption, Family Fluff, Kid fic, Family drama, Fluff, 🔒[PODFIC] Attempting the Impossible by Ariaste by lunatique)

The worth of a life with no regrets by SnowdropsAndDreams (Not Rated, 43k, WIP, WangXian, Time Travel Fix-It, Canon Divergence, Self-Indulgent, Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, Yúnmèng Siblings Feels, JC & WWX Reconciliation, Post-Canon Fix-It)

The crow, the owl and the dove by GoschateWabn (T, 39k, WIP, WangXian, JC & WWX, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Sunshot Campaign, JC Needs a Hug, Twin Prides of Yunmeng Dynamics, Fluff and Humor, Protective JC, BAMF JC, BAMF WWX, Sect Leader WWX, Canon Divergence, Oblivious WWX, JC is So Done, No Golden Core Transfer, JC Has No Golden Core)

Drowning in the Sun by Zelos (T, 8k, JC & WWX, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Transfer, Canon-Typical Violence, Brotherly Love, Sunshot Campaign, Family Dynamics, Grief/Mourning, Angst, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Dynamics, 🔒 [Podfic] Drowning in the Sun by flamingwell)

❤️ whipstitch by curiositykilled (M, 131k, WangXian, Canon Divergence, Dysfunctional Family, Torture, WWX Lives, but basically no one else, Case Fic, Cultivation Sect Politics, Past Abuse, WWX Whump, YLLZ WWX, JL Needs a Hug, JL Tries, Yunmeng Bro Reconciliation, Past Character Death, Body Horror, Non-Consensual Body Modification, POV Alternating, Flashbacks, Eventual Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Suicide Attempt, PTSD, Depression, Not A Fix-It, Mouth Sewn Shut)

basically anything by Lise that has Jiang Cheng as a character but especially With Absolute Splendor by Lise (T, 43k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Post-Canon, Wedding planning, Yunmeng Bros Reconciliation, Complicated Relationships, Angst with a happy ending)

some good mistakes by Lise (T, 18k, WangXian, JC & WWX, JC & LWJ, Road Trips, (terrible road trips), Post-Canon, Rescue Missions, Hurt/Comfort, ish, Awkward Conversations, POV JC, JC & WWX Reconciliation, (ish they’re working on it), [Podfic] some good mistakes by kisahawklin)

Listen to the Ocean (Hear it Break) by TheQueen (T, 3k, ChengQing, JC & WWX, WQ & WN, Canon Divergence, Golden Core Reveal, Character Study, Unreliable Narrator, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Angry Grape Boy hurts everyone around him and himself, Twin Prides of Yúnmèng Feels, Family Dynamics)

From Yunmeng, Unsent by isozyme (T, 5k, JC & WWX, epistolary, angst, canonical character death, nightmares, canon compliant)

JC and WWX’s Get Along Sweater series by newamsterdam (T, 29k, JC & WWX, Trapped In A Closet, Cultivation as Plot Device, Reconciliation, Miscommunication, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Panic Attacks, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Novel Spoilers, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence, Night Hunting, Ghosts, Action/Adventure, Brotherly Love, Complicated Relationships, Yunmeng Shuangjie)

~*~

8. For ITMF, I would like to read a post-canon fic where Jin Ling renounces his claim on the Sect Leadership of the Jin and instead becomes the Sect Heir for the Jiang. A focus on the politics and personal feelings/consequences at some point would be lovely. Preferably non-wangxian-centric and no JC bashing. Thanks! @jensownzoo

~*~

9. In the mood for fics where the juniors love WWX and he is a fun/good senior they love and look up to alot. Thank you! @stormblessed95

🔒❤️ Joy In the Midst of These Things Series by Glitterbombshell (T/G, 53k, WangXian, Angst with Happy Ending, Post-Canon, Teacher WWX, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff)

Glow by Quiet_crash (G, 2k, WangXian, LSZ & WWX, Junior Quartet, JC & WWX)

Linger in the Sun by etymologyplayground (T, 39k, wangxian, JC & WWX, Case Fic, Intimacy, Curses, Canon Compliant, Post-Canon, Cuddling & Snuggling, Getting Together, Romance, Sexual Tension, Scent Kink, WWX Loves To Teach, wangxian are married, Fluff, nonsexual intimacy, Scars, Sharing a Bed, Nonverbal Communication, this is HEAVY on the symbolism, Translation in Russian)

爱不释手; never let me go by yiqie (E, 68k, WangXian, Case Fic, Blood and Injury, Demons, Body Horror)

Proximity To Knowledge by ChilianXianzi (T, 7k, wangxian, Post-Canon, Married Wangxian, Chief Cultivator LWJ, Teacher WWX, Inventor WWX, And his research assistant Lan ducklings, LQR is not a good educator, the kids are alright, WWX did online learning before it was cool)

Trust by FlyingMachine1 (G, 8k, WWX & the Junior Ensemble, Junior Quartet Dynamics, Junior Ensemble Shenanigans, background wangxian, BAMF WWX, Humor)

your words upon my lips by uchiuchi (T, 17k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Fluff, Curses, no sad times only good times, Canon Compliant, Romance, they are married!!, Let LWJ Say Fuck, Case Fic)

~*~

10. hi this is a itmf!!

hi fellow wangxian fic lovers at this point in the fandom i feel like ive read every good written wangxian fic out there im looking for any hidden gems you guys have im talking 10k hits beautiful plot or story anything that just immediately makes u kudos or bookmark it, it can be any au tags whatever im not picky i just ask for atleast over 10k words :))) @yesibest

i guess i'll have to change my plan by darjeelinh (E, 35k, WangXian, Modern, Meet-Cute, Falling In Love, Love at First Sight, First Kiss, First Time, Inspired by Before Sunrise (1995) and Before Sunset (2004), soft rom-com vibes, One Night Stands, but not really, Light Angst with a Happy Ending, they both have demi vibes in this fight me about it, Loss of Virginity, Misunderstandings, Separations, Reunions, wangxian canon Elopement™️ shenanigans, now with art) absolute love in first read

swallowing rocks, swallowing peach skins by AvoOwO (M, 24k, WangXian, Cloud Recesses Study Arc, Angst, Hurt WWX, Hurt LWJ, Canon-Typical Violence, Drowning, Torture, Threats of Violence, Death Threats, Choking, Stabbing, Major Character Injury, POV LWJ, Smart LWJ, Smart WWX, Murder, Kidnapping, Gags, Protective LWJ, Pining LWJ, Drugs, Vomiting, Literal Sleeping Together, WWX Has PTSD, Food Issues, Sharing Clothes, Hair Brushing, Hair Braiding, Angst with a Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, Soft WangXian, Angry WWX, Caretaking, Food as a Metaphor for Love, the mortifying idea of being known, Suicidal Thoughts, Angry LWJ)

who cares when you're gone by camellialice (M, 22k, WangXian, background SongXiao, Hades (Video Game) Fusion, Canon-Typical Levels of Self-Sacrifice, Canon-Typical Levels of Spitting Up Blood, Canon-Typical Levels of Pining)

‘Let’s go home.’ by Crowgirl (E, 27k, WangXian, Coffee Shops & Cafés, LQR's Excellent Parenting, Meet-Cute, First Kiss, First Time, First Meetings, Pining, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Angst with a Happy Ending, Modern AU, Past XiYao, past emotional abuse, Past Emotional Manipulation)

Rebirth of a Wretched Mayfly by marikazz (M, 15k, WangXian, Time Loop, Time Travel, Groundhog Day, Suicidal Thoughts, Violence, Not Really Character Death, Panic Attacks, Self-Harm, Mental Health Issues, Trust Issues, Hurt WWX, Miscommunication, Heavy Angst, It Gets Worse Before It Gets Better, Whump, Feelings Realization, WWX is Not Okay, Mental Breakdown, Canon-Typical Violence, Existential Angst, Dissociation, Suicide, Angst with a Happy Ending, Misunderstandings, POV WWX)

🔒take me home (where i belong) by scarletwanlian (E, 153k, WangXian, Slice of Life, Modern, College/University, PTSD, Trauma, Dissociation, Music, Strangers to Lovers, Friends to Lovers, Depression, Running, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Injury Recovery, mental recovery, Mental Health Issues, Non-Sexual Intimacy, AND sexual intimacy, Literal Sleeping Together, and sleeping together, First Time, ace characters, also aro characters, and aroace character, Families of Choice, Car Accidents, Found Family, Flashbacks, Nightmares, gore elements somewhat, descriptions can get a bit gorey at times, Eventual Happy Ending, Sad with a Happy Ending, Healing, Character Study, Grief/Mourning, Survivor Guilt, Whump)

Who You Gonna Call? by Beltenebra (E, 15k, WangXian, Ghost Hunters, Modern with Magic, Minor ChengSong, Anal Sex, Paranormal Investigators, Mild Blood, Mild Horror, Ghosts, Demons, Fluff and Humor, Case Fic)

Légèreté by perkynurples (T, 65k, WangXian, Modern au, Horse riding, Swords as horses, Crack treated seriously, Friends to Lovers)

From the Ashes by mostlynonsense (travelingpsycho) (E, 83k, WangXian, Hurt/Comfort, Science Fiction, Slow Burn, Found Family, Happy Ending, Angst with a Happy Ending, IN SPACE!, Space)

🔒我拿青春赌明天 / I’ll wager my youth against tomorrow by tombenough_and_continent (T, 37k, WangXian, Science Fiction, Historical, Time Travel, ...they're time-travelling enemy agents writing each other love letters, Purple Prose, Enemies to Lovers)

A Wish I Can't Stop Making by Tirielle (T, 51k, XuanLi, WangXian, Memory Loss, Slow Burn, Mystery, Secret Identity, Wishes, Magic, Canon, JYL Lives, JZX Lives, JGY Redemption, Character Death, Canon-Typical Violence, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Hairpins as a metaphor for love, Idiots in Love)

transmuter by WithLoweredVoices (Not rated, 113k, wangxian, Modern with Magic, Magical Realism, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending)

Lovesong of the Square Root of Negative One by honeydrip (lmeden) (M, 55k, WangXian, JC & LWJ, JC & WWX, Modern, Blood and Gore, Elements of Horror, Elements of magical realism, Layered Narratives, A Story Within a Story, POV Multiple, Slow Burn, Not Everyone Dies)

Scapegoat by FinallyGotTheInvitation (E, 276k, WangXian, Modern, Trials, Lawyer LWJ, Defendant WWX, Courtroom Drama, False Accusations, Criminal Investigation, Threats of Violence, Death penalty, well not actually but there's threats of it, Hurt WWX, Protective LWJ, Childhood Trauma, Murder Mystery, Pining, Soft WangXian, Fluff and Angst, Slow Burn-ish they have a trial to get through, Domestic Bliss, Happy Ending, Found Family, Bad Parent YZY, neutral JC, Good Sibling JYL, Neutral LXC, Bad Uncle LQR, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, POV Alternating, Pining while fucking, Belly Bulge, Gentle Sex, Smut, languid sex, Angst, Kissing, Neck Kissing, all other ways to say 'emotionally horny sex' ok, Eventual Smut, porn in chapter 15, Praise Kink, Homophobia, chapter specific TWs will be in top notes, Power Play, Power Imbalance, Wet Dream, porn in chapter 27, blowjob, slight breathplay, Size Kink, porn in chapter 29, Breeding Kink, sex wrestling, Tickling, WWX is a Brat, porn in chapter 30, Illustrations)

after hours by mellowflicker (E, 10k, WangXian, Modern AU Slice of Life, Age Difference, Older LWJ, Hurt/Comfort, Father-Son Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, Top/Bottom Versatile | Switch LWJ)

~*~

11. I’m in the mood for fics with bodily possession. Just any fic where lwj or wwx are possessed or under control of someone or something. Thank you!

Mud on Your Feet by AvoOwO (Not Rated, 59k, WangXian, JC & WWX, Nightmares, Sentient Burial Mounds, Burial Mounds, Possession, Panic Attacks, Night Terrors, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Good Sibling JC, Hurt WWX, Soft WangXian, Feels, Blood and Injury, Hallucinations, Delusions, JC Loves WWX, Insomnia, Good Sibling WWX, Sleepwalking, Sleeptalking, LWJ just wants to sleep with his husband, Protective JC, WWX Sees Dead People, LJY pulls through, POV LWJ, Cloud Recesses, PTSD, Post-Canon, YLLZ WWX, resentful energy, Fluff, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Thirteen Years of WWX’s Death, WWX’s Three Months in the Burial Mounds, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, WWX is tired, LWJ literally just wants to sleep with WWX again is that too much to ask for??, Soft JC, Yunmeng Siblings Feels) in this wwx IS possessed by smth, I can't say what cuz it's a spoiler, just mentioning that it is almost like possession even tho the summary doesnt seem like it :)) enjoy

in your skin by darkredloveknot (enheduane) (E, 10k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pre-Relationship, Getting Together, Horror, Body Horror, Blood and Gore, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Love Confessions, Non-Consensual Body Modification, kinda??, Reflections over death and self-worth, mentions of canon suicide, Near Death Experiences, 🔒 [Podfic] in your skin by flamingwell)

old wounds, like hidden ghosts by wordsonpage (T, 2k, WangXian, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Dark LWJ, but like accidentally, Angst and Feels, Happy Ending) link in #5

Obedient and Bellicoseby thunderwear (T, 20k, Wangxian, Ella Enchanted AU, Canon Divergence, Fix-It, cursed LWJ, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Good brother LXC, LQR loves his nephews you cant change my mind, LWJ crying, Protective LXC, Pining, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Brief Depictions of Violence, meaning at least one of the people you really want to get stabbed does in fact get stabbed)

The Meaning of Silence by The Silverfish (ZephyrAndTheSilverfish) (T, 14k, wangxian, Mind Manipulation, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Pining) link in #5

🔒 between the shadow and the soul by Reverie (cl410) (M, 22k, WangXian, JYL/WQ, JC/NHS, Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Family, Dark WWX, Feral WWX, Memory Loss, Magic, Magical Realism, Protective LWJ, Protective JC, Protective JYL, Grief, BAMF WWX, POV Alternating)

~*~

12. I'm asking for canon era fics with lots and lots of hugs between the juniors and Wei Ying. I don't care if the ducklings are grown ups or just little babies. Probably please both types. Just nothing below 40k please. @constellationdks

~*~

13. Can you find me fics where cultivation sects gets punished for their unfairness. All sects gets punished not even Lan and Nie are left out.

~*~

14. Hey, itmf for fic post Wei's supposed death scene where Lan Zhan is punished (those beatings from cql) and then spends his solitary confinement in the cold cave. I am mostly interested in fics with depressed Lan Zhan who refuses to speak to anyone and/or gives up on his duties afterwards and just wastes away in that cave (instead of whatever he was supposed to be doing during those three years). It can even have suicide attempt or running away attempt. Thank you.

A Life Without Regrets by naqaashi (M, 163k, WangXian, JFM & WWX, JC & WWX, WRH & WWX, LXC & LWJ, LQR & LWJ, LWJ & NHS, Canon Divergence, Time Travel Fix-It, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Crack Treated Seriously, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Rogue Cultivator WWX, Murder Husbands, PTSD, BAMF WWX, Cultivation Sect Politics, Genius WWX, Cultivation Theory, Sentient Burial Mounds, Dysfunctional Family, Grief/Mourning, Angry WWX, No Golden Core Transfer, BAMF LWJ, Angry LWJ, One-Braincell WangXian, Idiots in Love, Requited Love, Requited Unrequited Love, Soft WangXian, Married WangXian, Soulmates, Not Cultivation World Friendly, Immortal WWX, Canon-Typical Violence, Not JC Friendly, Not Yunmeng Jiang friendly, not gusu lan friendly, Immortal LWJ) ARGH! I know I've read several fics that fit for 14 but cannot find them for the life of me! The only one I found that comes close is chapter 5 in A Life Without Regrets where Lan Wangji reflects on choosing to live for A-Yuan after his punishment in his first life (it's a time travel fic).

~*~

15. hi! this is for itmf. do you perhaps know any fics that focus around lwj's insecurity or fear that he's becoming like his father or something of the like? :") thanks!

the year of drought by idrilka (E, 24k, WangXian, Post-Canon, Pining, Getting Together, Wedding Planning, Letters, Instructional Use of Gay Porn)

how do i forgive myself (for losing so much time) by thunderwear (M, 26k, WangXian, Age Regression/De-Aging, Kid Fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition, of sorts, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Love Confessions, First Kiss, Sharing a Bed, yunmeng bros reconciliation, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Pining, read end notes for warnings, Post-Canon) Lan Wangji's fears about being like his father are also a small part at the end

~*~

16. Hello! For the next ITMF does anyone knows fics where Wangxian adopts Lan Jingyi? @lostandmessedup

if i had the strength by agloeian (M, 16k, wangxian, Canon Divergence, Post-Sunshot Campaign, Hurt/Comfort, Getting Together, Fix-It, somewhat of a case fic, Heaven Official’s Blessing inspired gods & ghosts, No Spoilers for Heaven Official’s Blessing, Mild Alcohol Abuse, Mental Health Issues, WWX is not in a great place for a lot of this fic, He Gets Better Though!, this fic is all about learning to give yourself the help you give others tbh, Baby LJY, recovery fic, Accidental Baby Acquisition)

~*~

17. For ITMF, I'm interested in what people's favorite Lan Jingyi-centric fics are. Doesn't have to be from his POV, but he should be the focus. Any ships or no ships are fine. Thanks! @jensownzoo

anyway, here’s wuji by kakikaeru (T, 18k, ZhuiYi, WangXian, Post-Canon, Canon-Typical Violence)

Important Distinctions by nagi_blue (T, 5k, gen, Fluff and Crack, [Podfic] Important Distinctions by semperfiona_podfic (semperfiona)

you are my chosen family by jinyinhua (T, 14k, LSZ & LJY, wangxian, LJY & LSZ & LWJ & WWX, 5+1 Things, Good Kid LJY, Good Kid LSZ, Blood and Injury, Night Hunts, Drinking, Age Regression/De-Aging, Married Wangxian, Fluff and Humor, Found Family, Gūsū Lán Juniors Dynamics)

Why Not Me? by Eleanor_Fenyx (G, 26k, LJY & LQR, LQR & LWJ, LJY & LSZ, LJY & LWJ, good uncle LQR, LJY pov, war orphan LJY, character study, LJY has ADHD, found family, rejection sensitivity dysphoria)

❤️ The One-Body Problem by metisket (T, 29k, LJY & WWX, LJY & LSZ, wangxian, possession, cohabitation, Podfic by SeaNoodle) LJY gets possessed by the Yiling Patriarch

The Special Hell by MedeaWasRight (E, 73k, JC/LJY, Hurt/Comfort, Fluff, Angst with a Happy Ending, Grief, implied eating disorder, Implied Bulimia, Vomiting, Drowning, JC runs a water park, Developing Relationship, Adopted Sibling Relationship, Sibling Rivalry, Mourning, LJY is the best Lan, peril in water, Reconciliation, Hospitals, physical assault, references to children in hospital) For a Jingyi-important fic, modern au, try this one from MedeaWasRight. It’s a 2nd part of a series, but it can be read as a standalone.

~*~

If you didn’t get an answer to your ask here, don’t forget to make use of @mdzs-kinkmeme and MDZS KINK MEME on Dreamwidth. Authors actually do use them for ideas. You may get what you order!***Your prompt doesn’t have to be kink! Fluff, crack, whatever - it’s all good!***

#wangxian #mdzs #wangxian fic recs #i'm in the mood for a fic #the untamed #wangxian fic search #wangxianficfinder #long post

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fanaticsnail · 4 months ago

Text

Mommy: Charlotte Cracker

Birthday Celebration Masterlist

Word count: 2,200+

Themes: Cracker x f!reader, gendered terms used, mdni, NSFW, 18+, smut, kink, Mommy x Baby (not related, just a kink), breast sucking, male masturbation, pre-established relationship, not much plot, feelings if you squint.

Notes: Just a 40+yo man needing some TLC from his partner.

Thump, thump, thump.

Heavy were the footfalls of the brass-buckled boots that stomped throughout the lengthy corridor. Each rhythmic clunk impacting the floor began to arrive all the nearer to your office door, prompting you to lull your head back on your shoulders and draw up your thumb and index fingers to massage your temples.

The energy radiating from beyond the door was already chock full of anxiety and agitation, hints of rage and anger simmering within their giant body. Fumes would be seeping from his ears if it could, that you were sure of. As soon as your door swung wide, you were greeted to the sight you had come to expect at least once a week within your office: an office not suited for the purpose you utilized it for.

Anger and rage weeped from his every pore, his face contorted in a gruff grimace and curling his scar up to a tight coil. Immediately as you made eye contact with him, he slammed the office door shut behind him with his lips curled back to bare his teeth at you.

Waiting in that thick silence, fury radiating from the crown of his purple hair and almost weeping smoke from his ears as he continued to bear his eyes into your own. All was halted at the extension of your arms stretched either side of your body and a single word spoken from your lips.

“Baby.”

His shoulders immediately dropped, head hung low as he dredged over to you like a man in mourning. Meeting your smaller frame with his thick thighs, he slunk to the ground on his knees and curled inwards of himself while burying his head against your stomach.

“Mommy.”

As your hand drew up to card through his purple locks, you reflected on how this relationship truly occurred between you and the larger man. Unsure of whether it truly began while you brought him an itinerary from your office regarding where his persons was to be required, or the way he sought out your touch while you served the Charlotte generals and children their evening meals, or some fantasy come to life when he whispered that name while expressing his gratitude for you aiding him in removing his armor and laying down his arms: that was your title to him.

No longer an au pair or an aid for Charlotte Linlin in caring for her many children in this situation, you were Charlotte Cracker’s mommy. Not mother, not mom, simply a larger man feeling comfortable enough in himself to need your nurture and care to shepherd him through his rage.

“What happened, baby?” you ask him softly, soothing his larger head as he nestled himself further into your embrace. “Want to tell mommy about it?” He shook his head, sniffling against your waist and whimpering into your touch. You clicked your tongue, backing away towards the corner of the room closest to the hexagonal bay window.

Several large pillows littered this space, often a corner of the room you made available for you to peer over the edge of the grounds while working away at scheduling education. As you slumped back onto the ground, Cracker draped himself over your body and buried his head in the chasms of your breasts.

“Alright, baby. Why don’t you just put your head in my lap, hm?” you cooed down at the ten foot giant. He nodded his head and leaned into your touch as you turned him to face upwards on your lap. As he turned, the large belt of biscuits rolled with several crumbs falling onto the plush pillows below him. This had you click your tongue in disappointment, which prompted Cracker’s eyes to follow your gaze.

“Sorry, mommy,” he whispered hurriedly, sheepishly removing his belt and brushing down the pillows to scatter the crumbs beside the pillows. You hummed at him, slowly sitting back with your legs flat in front of you. Patting your thighs once more, you couldn’t help as Cracker eagerly placed his head and the tops of his shoulders within your lap.

Your hands immediately went back to soothe over his purple hair, rolling it back to reveal his forehead. Gently soothing over his scar, you felt him wince at your touch. His oversensitivity upon receiving such a gentle expression never ceased to amaze you, no matter how often you and he would enjoy time together.

“Want me to stop, baby?” Your question caused his eyes to round innocently up at you while tilting his head back to meet your gaze further. His pouty protest had you purse your lips in empathetic sorrow.

Leaning down and pressing your lips to his forehead, you felt him whimper and shudder beneath your touch. Humming down at him, you remove your lips and un-arch yourself while gazing down at him.

“C-Can I-...? Can we-...?” Cracker stuttered, attempting to catch himself as he hoped you would fill in the rest of his statement. You smile down at him, nodding as you raised your hands and reached for your shirt.

As your hands began to unclasp each of the front buttons on your shirt, he unbuttoned the waistband of his pants and began shimmying them down to reveal his half-mast cock. As soon as you popped the remaining clasp, you reached into your shirt and cupped your breasts, rolling them over the front of the uniform to spill out in front of him.

With a small bounce to the mounds of flesh, you chuckled as Cracker’s cock immediately sprung completely to life. Shimmying up a little further, he looked up through his lengthy eyelashes and asked permission with his gaze to touch your breasts. With no more than a soft smile and a nod, he slowly reached with one hand towards your breast as the other reached down to stroke his cock.

Starting at the tip, he rolled the velvety skin back and forth while applying more pressure as he raised it back to his tip. His cock twitched and pulsed in his hand, the pink tip leaking with precum as he molded the flesh of your breasts beneath his palm.

“So pretty, baby,” you coo down at him, moving down to cradle his head on your lap and draw him closer to your chest. “Doing so good for me. Open your mouth?”

Cracker maintained eye contact and parted his lips, lulling out his tongue and moving his lips closer to your areola. Giving a tentative flick of his tongue over your pebbled bud, he moved to fully latch his lips against your breast while molding the other in his hand.

“Oh, good boy,” you praised him, holding his head firmer against your chest and pushing more of your breast into his mouth. “I didn't even have to ask, and you just knew what to do. So good, baby.”

He whimpered into your embrace, closing his eyes and furrowing his brows while bucking up into his hand. Moving from long and languid strokes to heavier pumps, he whined and groaned into your breasts while swirling his tongue over your nipple.

Your breath caught in your throat as he flattened his tongue and ground the porous surface against the center of your nipple. He released your nipple from his firm latch with a pop, spreading his saliva over your bud by flicking and kissing the pert bud.

“Oh, so good, baby,” you whine at him as you feel the pleasure electrify from your nipple straight to your abdomen. “Doing so good for Mommy. Keep stroking that cock for me?”

“Yes, Mommy,” Cracker whined, thumbing over the cock head and collecting his precum on the pad of his digit. You reached down, clasping his forearm and aiding him in setting the pace to pump his shaft.

“Little bit slower, baby. We don't want you to make a mess too quickly, do we?” Your warm voice poured from your lips like honey, Cracker whining into your chest before relatching against your nipple while rolling the other in your nipple in his thumb and forefingers.

His voice choked out a groan, feeling closer to the edge than he truly wanted to be in your arms presently. He always wanted to make you proud. He couldn't truly put a reason as to why.

Charlotte Cracker always felt in control. He used his ability to make his sweet biscuits fight for him, wore armor to protect his body from harm, and learned battle prowess from his older siblings. With you, the au pair for his younger siblings and the aid in daily routine for him and the others, he felt safe enough to relinquish that control over to you.

He felt safe with you.

He felt secure with you.

He felt loved with you.

Each time he spoke his woes onto you, your ear and smile would always be warm and welcoming for him. You were that nurture he never felt from his mother, his father, his step parents, and his advisors. You were that security blanket engulfing him in a secure embrace of ultimate care.

Your love is what had him fucking his fist to your memory. Your love was what had him muffling his moans with the back of his hand while he reached that pinnacle of abandon and threw himself off of it. Your love was what had him sheepishly approach you for the first time and had him seek out this arrangement, should you find yourself willing.

Your love is what had him beginning to hone in on that precipice of pleasure as you guided his fist up and down on his cock. The first bubbles of cum began falling from the slit at the tip of his cock. Everything was so warm, so caring, and so extremely filled with love, Cracker couldn't hold himself back from that edge any longer.

Moaning freely on your breast, he choked back a hefty mewl as his belly tensed in a clenched ball. His heavy balls sucked up into his abdomen as he began to feel the first waves of his bliss crash over him.

“M-Mommy-!” he shouted out as he fully succumbed to that edge.

“-I’m right here, baby,” you reassured him, aiding him in continuing the tempo he set as he pushed past that edge and toppled over. “You're safe, you're good, and you're doing so well, baby. Cum for me?”

“Mgnhmnm-! F-fuck-... Aaah-, cumming-!” Cracker whimpered out. Hot bursts of his release sprouted from his slit and coated his stomach with his bliss. His muscles tensed and his fist clenched around his cock, but his lips were only always soft and gentle against your breasts.

Hot coils of bliss shot over his dewy skin, staining his bare abs and the top of his shirt with his seed. His back arched as he rode through that high to the end, almost forcing himself through that painted overstimulation if not to do you proud. He moaned out each soft moan to coincide with his release, unclenching his eyes to seek out your own as he championed his way through it.

Stilling his hips and his motions, he flopped his body lazily within your cradle and panted up at you. You smiled down, leaning over and pressing your lips to his brow in a sweet gesture of acceptance and support.

“Baby,” you whisper down at him, prompting him to whimper in response, “Let's get you cleaned up, and I'll brush your hair for you while you tell me about your day.”

In his vulnerable state, Cracker felt like he could cry at that thought. Stiffing his upper lip, he forced back that sob that bubbled in his throat while nodding his head.

“That sounds good, right, baby?” you reaffirmed down at him, gently moving your hand from his forearm to cup his cheek. He furrowed his brows and leaned into your touch, closing his eyes as his lip quivered.

“You…” he began, his words catching behind his lips as he struggled with the boiling emotions ever growing, “...You’d do that for me?”

“Baby, of course I will,” you hummed at him with all of the emotion you could muster for him, “Consider my schedule clear, and my entire attention yours. Whatever you need of me, from me, or with me,” you raise his head up to you and cradle his face within your palms.

“I'm yours,” you affirm him, pressing your head against his and closing your eyes, “You can use me for anything you need.”

“Even if I just want to sit with you?” Cracker asked, turning to lean on his side and searching your eyes with his own. “Even to just hear about your day and listen to your voice.”

“Of course, baby,” you hum towards Cracker and gently brush your nose against his. “Anything you need, I'm yours.”

After cleaning up his former release and redressing yourselves, Cracker continued to sit and half doze off the longer you spoke. He was so comfortable with you, he could barely tolerate the prospect of fleeing from your side and returning to his duties.

For now, he could hear the hum in your tone, the warmth in your fable, and your heart carved in the corner of the universe meant just for him.

Tag list: @mfreedomstuff @daydreamer-in-training @since-im-already-here @gingernut1314 @writingmysanity @i-am-vita @indydonuts @feral-artistry @the-light-of-star @empirenowmp3 @racfoam @sunflowersatori @carrotsunshine @skullfacedlady @jintaka-hane @thenotsofantasticlifestory @jadeddangel @ane5e

🎶Happy Birthday to Me 🎶

If you would like to celebrate by indulging my caffeine and bubble tea addiction, my Kofi link is here.

#one piece #x reader #x f!reader #charlotte cracker #cracker x reader #op cracker #one piece smut #2024 birthday party #charlotte cracker x reader #op x reader

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arcielee · 1 year ago

Text

Insatiable

Summary: Osferth finally has a moment with the barmaid he has been pining for. Paring: Osferth x Plus Size Reader Word Count: 1575 Warnings: AFAB Reader, kissing, titty sucking, grinding, pre ejaculation because baby monk is thrumming with life being tucked between your thighs, implied sexual themes. Author's Note: This was requested by the lovely, the wonderful @helaelaemond 💜 I hope this does justice to your request. Thank you @aemondsbabe for being my beloved beta reader for this hot mess I wrote at 1 in the morning and thank you @myfandomprompts for the title! 🥰 Dividers by @saradika

They prefer your tavern and its reputation, your wit and your hired help–always the loveliest of girls you gave sanctuary too. In return, you enjoyed both their coin and their company, which was something all encompassing whenever they would enter your establishment.

On this night, it was the tittering of your barmaids that alerts you before the bawdy Irishman announces their arrival. He fills the door frame, his dark eyes settling onto you and you returning his cheeky grin.

“Lord Uhtred and his pretty boys,” you greet and he guffaws. You begin to pull empty tankards from the shelves behind. “To what do we owe the honor?”

Finan pushes up towards the bar, his teeth bright beneath his dark beard. “My lady, tonight we are celebrating!”

“What are we celebrating?” You fill up a mug and pass it over to his wide grasp.

He begins to gulp it down, ale spilling the corners of his mouth before setting it down, his smile roguish when he says: “First bloodshed.”

Osferth had slain the great Dane, Sigefrid Thurgilson, and its tale was already webbing throughout the cities that settled along the river bank of the Temes, rising from the ashes of Beamfleot.

Your brow raises with your surprise. The warrior monk was a recent addition to the motley swart of men that shadowed Lord Uhtred’s steps. Osferth was a solemn addition, tall and lean, with piercing blue eyes that would cut through the crowd, searching for you whenever they visited.

You could not help but favor him out of all the men that served Lord Uhtred. He was handsome with his sharp features, but you noticed how they softened with your voice whenever you spoke with him. You relish his reaction, the soft pink hues that stained his cheeks, his soft timbre to answer you, and you actually began to mourn him, assuming his inevitable demise at the end of a blade.

But instead, Osferth showed himself to be so much more.

The wooden walls begin to vibrate with the jubilation of surviving another day as the locals pour through the doors, adding to the cheers of their heroism. Lord Uhtred and his men preen under the attention, always adoring your pretty help, your girls flutter throughout to refill mugs or fall into an empty lap.

You were watching, sipping at your own cup, dressed to complement your curves, the low neckline of your blouse to draw the eye to your heavy bust, aglow with the umpteenth retelling of baby monk’s bravery. Only then did you notice that Finan was trying to call your attention.

“Please,” his lilt was thick as he began to beg, his ruddy cheeks burning and his dark eyes finally pulling away from your cleavage to meet with your own. “Osferth has been so hopelessly besotted with you. I was thinking you should give him a kiss to congratulate that he is now truly a man.”

His words, partnered with the ale, warm your blood with the realization, flushing your cheeks and your cleavage. It propels your feet forward, pushing through the crowd towards Osferth, whose eyes were already trained to you. They widen, bright and beautiful and blue, to drink in the sight when you lean over, his skin prickling with your whisper to his ear, “Come with me,” and he is quick to stand and follow after you.

The cheers of his comrades are drowned out with the call for another round, and you leave it to your help to tend and to fawn over the rest of the men as you pull Osferth away.

The oak door shuts out the noise and you look back to see his lithe frame leaning against the wood. In the intimacy of the room, you could smell the musk of the battle won, lining his angular features, his sandy locks disheveled with the uneven new growth of his old religious style.

You reach for his hand, pulling him towards the bed, and he follows, towering over you, watching as your hands pull at the collar of his alb; he helps you peel it off, showing the pale planes of his chest beneath.

Even as he sinks to sit on the edge of the bed, he is still so very tall, and you blush, turning to grab a clean cloth from the basin, coming back to touch his jaw and to wipe away the ash smeared across his face.

Osferth hums with your touch, leaning into your palm, and your blood thickens beneath your skin with his close proximity. Your eyes watch the rise and fall of his chest as he tries to steady his breath, and when he finally looks back up at you, you can see the lustful black swallowing the cerulean coloring of his eyes; they wash over you, drinking in your curves, and a bashfulness stricken your bones with his heady gaze.

You take a step back to return the cloth, and only then does Osferth dare to push up, towering over you. His large palm catches your elbow and pulls you back towards him. “May I–?” but his question stops on his tongue, your hands already moving to pull him close enough to kiss.

The taste of ale is present, but not overwhelming, his mouth pleasantly warm and his lips soft to press against your own. You melt against his chest and a soft sigh escapes, allowing his clever tongue to curl, to deepen the kiss and find its tandem with your own. His large hands move, respectful but appreciative of the tactile nature of your figure, touching your soft waist, moving to settle on your hips with a firm hold as he continues to draw the very breath from your lungs.

You break away for air, for who knew he would kiss like a man starved? You see his lips still pursed, kiss swollen, the hue now darkening to a red stain on his cheeks and on the tip of his nose.

“Forgive me,” he says after a movement with the same sweet diction you were always fond of, and he grows shy with his admittance, “but I have thought often of how you would taste and I now find myself insatiable.”

You close the space between, finding his mouth once again, and his palms roam, his stance staggering as he follows the pull backwards, until you both fall onto the bed.

His arms cage you against the mattress and he dips forward for another desperate kiss; your blouse laces are pulled to allow the natural slope of your breasts, your hands rutting your skirt up so he can slot his slender waist between your plush thighs. You softly whine with the pressure of his length against your clothed cunt, and his deft fingers travel to remove your smallclothes. Osferth then pulls back with a pause, a moment of admiration with the enticing way of how you now spill from your clothes.

You burn under his gaze, your fingers bold to loosen his ties, his length straining against the crotch of his slacks, now flush and upright towards his bellybutton. Osferth melts against you with his soft groan, your own soft sighs echoing with the delicious pressure of him against your slick folds. Your fingertips move to dig into the divots of his lower back, pulling him to rock against you with the genial glide of the underside of his cock against your warmth, rubbing your clit, and a pleasure begins to lick at the base of your spine.

He is lost in the rhythm, the now crimson flush spilling from his face to his neck to his chest, panting and trembling against you; his eyes search for your face and you pull him in for another quick kiss. Osferth groans into your mouth, breaking away to return his attention to the tops of your breasts, his hot mouth leaving blooms of color as he suckles and savors every bit of your skin now showing.

You squirm beneath him, your soft moans spurring his motion, and his brows knit with a focus on your pleasure, your sweet sounds, but it shatters so easily with your breathless whisper of his name that tickles his ear, “Oh, Osferth…”

With a strangled cry, you can feel the hot pulse of his spend between your thighs. You tighten them around his waist, supporting him as he lowers his weight on top of you. “Forgive me,” he is panting against your flush skin, the ripple of gooseflesh in the wake of his exhale. “Forgive me, my lady, it is no excuse but I…have been thinking about this, about you, for so long…”

You press a finger against his lips and Osferth is quick to kiss the pad. You smile with his gesture, your hand moving to curl the back of his neck, bringing his lips to your own for another sweet kiss. “Would you like to make it up to me?” Your voice is sultry, velvet, and you can feel the twitch of his cock in response.

His eyes are soulful and wide, with the returning blue a stark contrast to the flush of red that remains on his face. “More than anything,” he vows, “I will spend all night right here, if you wish it.”

And you kiss him again, unable to help the giggle that spills from your lips. “I wish it,” you whisper and you can feel his smile in return.

Taglist (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @black-dread @fan-goddess @httpsdoll @theromanticegoist @assortedseaglass @amiraisgoingthruit @theoneeyedprince @babyblue711 @itbmojojoejo @girlwith-thepearlearring @lauraneedstochill @theobjectofyourire @troublesomesnitch

#osferth x you #osferth x reader #osferth x plus size reader #plus size reader #tlk fanfic #tlk fanfiction #insatiable

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mononijikayu · 9 months ago

Text

good luck, babe! — ieiri shoko.

Tears well up in your eyes as you recall that particular day. It was as though you were both bathed in sunlight, her brown eyes shimmering with happiness. But as you both confronted the reality of a future you could not share, tears poured from those beautiful eyes. There was only hurt—a hurt you had forced upon her. Her hands, strong yet gentle, had held yours with a desperate sorrow, promising a love that could not be confined by the world’s expectations, yet ultimately falling victim to them.

Genre: Hidden Inventory Arc to Pre-JJK 0, 2006 - 2015;

Warning/s: First Love, Emotional Turmoil, Breakup, Heartbreak, Angst, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Mature Themes, Cultural/Familial Expectations, Internal Conflict, Cultural Challenges, Mental and Emotional Stress, Angst with Happy Ending, Slow Burn, Romance, Love and Heartbreak, Healing, Growth, Reconciliation, WLW, Second Chances, Relationship Dynamics, Supportive Siblings, Breaking Traditions, Depiction of Implied Homophobia, Depiction of Comphet, Depiction of Smoking, Depiction of Alcohol Use, Mention of Divorce;

masterlist

listen: good luck babe by chappell roan

note: this is the au of let you break my heart again and magnetic. this is if gojo! sister lived and managed to not suffer from a curse. i think this happy ending is well deserved for the two of them. live long and prosper, shoko and gojo! sister!!! :']

2007

SHOKO THINKS IT’S FINE, THAT IT’S COOL. But as she takes another swing from lip and cigarette, to smoke and blow, she knows it's not fine, it's not cool. In the quiet confines of her office, Ieiri Shoko sat hunched over her desk, her usual composed demeanor replaced by a visible layer of distress. Papers lay scattered around, untouched, as her mind replayed the painful moment of your breakup over and over again. The clinical cleanliness of the room couldn't sterilize the heartache she felt. The memory of your words, the finality in your voice, pressed heavily on her, and yet, deep down, she understood the reasons but couldn't accept them.

Shoko had always known the weight of the expectations placed upon you as being Gojo Satoru's sister and a high-ranking lady of your clan. You had always lived in a world bounded by strict traditions and rigid rules—constraints that you, unlike Satoru, never rebelled against openly. Your compliance with these traditions was out of a sense of duty, perhaps even a desire to shield your family from scandal of Satoru’s dislike for tradition, and to maintain the facade of propriety expected of you.

It’s not like Shoko blames Satoru. He himself deals with the pressure of existing just by having his cursed technique. He’s stuck in a hard and a rock place with clan politics and just as much, loving Suguru and mourning his loss from his life — how he’s still protecting him even after all this time, There’s so much that the higher ups think they don’t like about him. You didn’t have to break up with Shoko about it. You can have a choice about it, as Satoru has. But you were too good, a goodie little two shoes. You felt like you had to make up for the mistakes, to correct yourself because the clan says so. And Shoko hates it, she hates that about you. But she hates how she can’t hate you. She hates how much she loves you.

For you, loving Shoko was a truth you buried deep under layers of obligation and appearances. Each stolen moment with her had felt like a breath of freedom, but also like stepping closer to the edge of a precipice. You knew the consequences of a life lived openly with her, how it would be seen as a defiance of your family’s values, a betrayal of the lineage you were born into. The love you felt for Shoko was real, potent, and transformative, but it was also a danger to the life you were conditioned to lead.

Shoko, with her sharp mind and gentle heart, had seen the struggle within you. She knew the love wasn’t one-sided; it was palpable, vibrant, and life-affirming. That was what made the break–up so excruciating. She didn’t feel like a fool for loving you, but she was a fool for hoping that love would overcome it all. She was hoping that love might be enough to inspire you to choose a different path. And somehow, with that hope, she just ended up disappointed.

The moment lingered between you, heavy and dense, the air thick with unsaid words and stifled emotions. Despite the pain that was evident in your eyes—a mixture of regret and sorrow—there was an undeniable firmness, a resolve that spoke volumes about the decision you had made. It was a painful choice, undeniably, but it came from a place deep within you, where truth outweighs comfort and where integrity demands sacrifices.

You stood there, your stance solid yet somber, reflecting the inner turmoil that had been a constant companion in the days leading up to this moment. The decision to end things hadn't come lightly. It was the culmination of countless sleepless nights, of endless internal debates, and of painful reflections on what it meant to truly love someone—not just in the joyful moments but also in letting go when the paths diverged too greatly.

As you spoke the words, your voice was steady but not without emotion. Each syllable seemed to carry a weight, each pause filled with the echoes of shared memories and dreams that would remain unfulfilled. "This is the hardest thing I've ever had to do," you admitted, the honesty in your voice cutting through the tension. "But it's necessary—for both of us.”

“Does what I have to say matter in this?” Shoko asks, her voice shaking as she looks at you, her face the epitome of grief. The break–up hasn’t even happened. And yet, she just felt like the world fell apart. “How…why? At least tell me why?”

“I can’t do this, Shoko. It isn’t just about us,” you had said, your voice trembling despite the firmness of your words. “I have responsibilities, expectations... I cannot be truly yours without losing everything else.”

Shoko had tried to argue, her own heart breaking as she spoke. “But what about what you want? What about love? I thought you loved me.”

You felt tears prickle your eyes. “I do. I do love you.”

“Then why are you leaving me?”

Your answer had been a quiet, devastating whisper. “Sometimes, it's not enough to just love. I’m not good enough to be strong, Shoko. I….I’m sorry.”

She huffs the air as though she was choking on it. Shoko starts laughing like a mad woman, which only made you feel as though tears would never end. Shaking her head at you, you looked at her almost pleadingly, as though to say, ‘please, i love you. I’m sorry.’ It was cruel of you, Shoko thinks, how you could easily pull her heart strings with your tears. Oh she hates it. She hates how she loves you.

“Then, good luck babe.” She retorts back at you, as though she was cursing you. As if she was releasing all the pain in one tsunami wave. “Really, good luck. Good luck. Good luck.”

“Shoko—”

She shakes her head again, raising a hand to stop you. “Leave. Please. I don’t want you here.”

Now, alone, Shoko allowed herself to grieve not just for the relationship lost, but for you as well. She grieved for the person who had to hide their true self, who had to mask their desires and dreams in the shadow of duty. She grieved for herself, too, for the future she had allowed herself to imagine, however briefly.

In her solitude, Shoko couldn't help but feel abandoned, yet she couldn’t truly resent you for your choice. She understood all too well the cultural and familial shackles that bound you. This understanding didn’t alleviate her pain; it compounded it, knowing you were out there somewhere, continuing to deny the essential parts of yourself.

As the night deepened and the lights in her office flickered softly, Shoko realized this might be her own crossroads: could she move on, knowing you were still in the world, just out of reach, yet forever distant? Her heart still ached with love for you, a love she feared might never find its resolution in her lifetime.

The door to Shoko Ieiri's office swung open with a soft creak, and there stood Satoru Gojo, his usual carefree demeanor slightly muted as he stepped inside. His arrival was unannounced, as was his style, but the timing couldn't have been more intrusive. Shoko, still engulfed in her storm of emotions, looked up sharply, her face a mix of surprise and annoyance.

"Not now, Gojo," she snapped, her voice brittle with barely contained anger. "I'm really not in the mood for your jokes or whatever you're planning to pull."

Gojo seemed to understand easily. For the first time in his life, he closed the door quietly behind him, his usual grin replaced by a more serious expression. He hadn’t looked this serious since that day. But Shoko thinks it doesn’t suit him. He was meant to be a foolish little boy in a grown man’s body. He ignored her request for solitude and instead, walked over and sat down across from her, with his long legs criss–crossed and his bright blue eyes meeting hers with an unusually heavy gravity. Shoko can only surmise that infinity is closed.

"I'm not here to joke, Sho," He said gently as he looked at her. "I heard about what happened between you and my sister. It’s just….. I'm really sorry."

Shoko's demeanor faltered for a moment, the hardness in her doe-like eyes giving way to a more wounded vulnerability. She looked down at her desk, her fingers playing with a pen, her guard slowly coming down in the face of Gojo's sincerity—a rarity that she knew meant he was genuinely concerned. She’s tried not to think about it. It was hard to think about it. But now that he’d brought it up, all she could remember was your tear–stricken face as you tried to turn around and run away, sobbing as you left her all alone.

"Sorry doesn't change things, Gojo. It doesn’t fix anything," she muttered, her voice thick with emotion. “She still broke up with me. And now she’s damn…she’s left me, to uphold some bullshit lie about herself."

"I know," Gojo replied softly, sighing shortly after. Shoko thinks that Gojo understands best. After all, the love of his life left him too. And he doesn't know if he'll ever see him again. "Listen, she's hurting too. and I just..."

Shoko sighed heavily, allowing herself to meet his gaze. "I know she's hurting. But I’m hurting too, okay? She’s hurt me. She's keeping up with the lie she's been told, that loving me is going to be a taint on you and your family."

“I know. And it's not your fault. It’s none of your fault. It’s….” He lets a breath pass through his lips. “It’s just, she hasn’t seen it through yet.”

"Gojo, I just feel like a fool," She admitted, her voice a whisper of defeat. "I allowed myself to believe that things could be different, that love might be enough to overcome everything else. I love her so damn much, Gojo. I love her too much, I’m willing to go through this. But I should have known better."

Gojo leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Hey, you're not a fool for believing in love and hoping it would work out" he said earnestly. "It's one of the few things worth being foolish for. And you’re not alone in hoping things can change. I think…I think she wishes things would change too.”

Shoko looked away for a moment, gathering her thoughts. When she spoke again, her voice was steadier, but the hurt was still palpable. "It's like we're being punished for something that should be celebrated. Our love wasn't a rebellion, Gojo. It was just... love."

Gojo's eyes held a deep understanding, tinged with a hint of sadness. He knew too well the pain that came with having love tangled grievous prejudice. His response was a whisper, meant as much for himself as for Shoko. "The world can be cruel to those who dare to live authentically, who dare to defy what it deems normal."

Shoko's eyes filled with tears that threatened to spill over. The intensity of her feelings, the struggle to maintain her composure, painted a vivid picture of the emotional toll the situation had exacted. "Why is it," she choked out, the words barely a breath, "that what feels so right to us, so fundamentally pure, is what they seek to destroy? Why must love come with such high costs?"

Gojo reached out, his touch tentative, not wanting to presume but needing to offer some comfort. His hand found her arm, a gentle reassurance that she was not alone. "Because, Sho," he said softly, "Fear drives people to oppression. They fear what they cannot understand, cannot control. And nothing is less controllable than genuine human emotions, genuine love. It threatens them. It’s that powerful.”

Shoko turned to face him now, her gaze fierce despite the tears that streaked her cheeks. "And what if she can't see that, Gojo? What if she's too caught up in the fear, too wary of the repercussions to take a stand with me?"

The question hung between them, heavy and suffocating. Gojo Satoru felt the weight of her despair, mirroring his own past hurts, reflecting the battles he had fought to keep love winning—some won, some lost, but all leaving scars. But he hoped that Shoko wouldn’t give up. That you wouldn’t give up. He’d at least be happy to know that both of you got the happy ending that Suguru and him would never find in this lifetime. He gives a small smile at her direction.

"Then, Shoko," Gojo said, his voice steady despite the turmoil he felt, "You fight enough for both of you until she can find the strength. You live your truth so boldly, so unapologetically, that it becomes a beacon for her... for anyone who’s lost in the shadows of their fears. You become the light that not only guides but also inspires."

"But what if that's not enough?" Shoko's voice broke on the words, a whisper of desperation lacing through. "What if my fight only drives her further away, into the safety of shadows, where I can't reach her?"

Gojo had no easy answers, no promises that the path they chose would lead to the outcomes they hoped for. "Then you love her from afar," he murmured, his own experiences lending pain to his words. "You love her, and you let her go, hoping that someday, the world you're fighting for—a world where love is celebrated in all its forms—will be the world she walks back into."

The silence that followed was filled with shared sorrow, a mutual recognition of the love and loss that had colored both their lives. Shoko nodded slowly, a quiet acceptance of the hard truths they'd laid bare. She wiped away her tears, straightening her shoulders as if physically bracing herself against the pain.

"Thank you, Gojo," she said finally, her voice firmer now, tempered in the fires of their conversation. "For understanding, for being here."

Gojo offered a small, sad smile. "Always, Sho. You’re almost like family — no, you’re family to me. No matter how dark it gets, you're not alone. Remember that."

As they parted ways, the resolve hardened in Shoko—a resolve not just to fight, but to endure, to hope, and to continue loving, no matter the cost. And in that resolve, she found a sliver of peace amid the turmoil.

As long as you’ll be waiting for her on the other side,

It would be worth it, being in all this pain and grief.

Shoko thinks about your smile, your kisses on her skin.

Maybe one day, she’ll see you in her arms again.

2013

YOU DON’T SLEEP VERY WELL. You fear that you’d sleep and see Shoko again. You fear that you’ll continue to be haunted. But you suppose, you already have too much that haunts you when it comes to Ieiri Shoko. Her judging eyes, the eyes you have so loved, piercing through over and over the lies behind your eyes — it hurts. It scares you. Because you had loved, still do love, her. And she continues to be your grief. A grief that perseveres in absolute devotion within the tenants of your truest heart.

In the quiet of the night, the world around you is silent and still, you find yourself once again caught in the grip of what-ifs and memories that refuse to fade. You turn slowly, your gaze falling upon the man beside you—your husband, chosen not by the whims of the heart but by the cold calculations of tradition. He breathes softly, peacefully unaware of the turmoil that keeps you awake, night after night.

He has been nothing but kind and considerate, a good man who respects the vows you both shared under the watchful eyes of the elders and your families. Satoru seems to like him enough, but your brother knows just as much as you that you wouldn’t love this man. And if you do, never truly with all your heart. Still, in these many years of marriage, he has upheld every promise he made to you, providing support, stability, and respect. Yet, as you watch him sleep, you feel a pang of guilt for the lack of love you feel, for the hollow space inside your heart that he has never been able to fill.

Your mind drifts, unbidden, to Ieiri Shoko—the love of your life, the blue spring of your eternal summers, your white nights in the winter mornings. It was her laughter echoing in your memories, her eyes bright with the promise of a life less ordinary. You remember the warmth of her touch, the way her presence seemed to make everything brighter, more real. You had loved her, truly and deeply, in a way that you had never managed to love him. She was everything that made life worth living. And you get reminded as you think about a memory.

The balcony was bathed in the soft glow of twilight, the fading sun casting long shadows that danced across the floor. Shoko stood against the railing, her silhouette outlined by the gentle light, a lit cigarette held casually between her fingers. As you entered the room, your gaze fixed on her, a subtle frown forming on your brow as you watched her with a mixture of concern and affection.

"Shoko, you know I hate that you smoke," you finally spoke up, your voice soft yet filled with genuine worry.

She turned to face you, her eyes meeting yours with a playful glint, a thin wisp of smoke curling upwards from her lips. Despite the seriousness of your words, her expression held a hint of amusement, as though she anticipated your next move. "And what, my dear, do you plan to do about it?" she replied, her tone teasing, a challenge in her voice.

Closing the distance between you, you reached out and gently took the cigarette from her hand, extinguishing it in the nearby ashtray with a simple flick of your wrist. The tension between you crackled in the air, charged with unspoken emotion and the weight of unspoken desires.

"I have a few ideas," you murmured, your voice low, filled with a mixture of determination and longing.

Without hesitation, you leaned in, capturing her lips with yours in a kiss that spoke volumes, a silent declaration of your feelings. In that moment, the world fell away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the intensity of your shared passion. Shoko responded eagerly, her arms wrapping around your neck, pulling you closer as she melted into your embrace.

When you finally pulled away, both of you were breathless, the air heavy with the heady rush of desire. Shoko's eyes sparkled with surprise and delight, a smile playing at the corners of her lips. "I love this idea," she laughed, her voice husky from the kiss.

Your heart swelled with hope and affection, a warmth spreading through you at her words. "Maybe we can make it a regular treatment," you suggested, a hint of playfulness in your tone.

"Sounds like the perfect remedy," Shoko agreed, her smile infectious as she leaned in for another quick kiss. As she whispered against your lips, her words carried a promise of a future filled with love and possibility. "Who needs cigarettes when I have you?"

Sitting up in bed, you stifle a sob with the back of your hand. The weight of your choices presses down on you, a burden you’ve carried through the years, growing heavier with each passing day. You had chosen this life, chosen duty and tradition over the desires of your heart, and with each choice, a piece of you had withered, lost to the shadows of regret.

You look at your husband again, his face innocent in sleep, undeserving of the resentment that sometimes brews within you. You know this is not his fault—it is the result of decisions made by others, choices rooted in outdated customs and rigid family expectations. But knowing this does nothing to ease the longing in your heart, the yearning for a path not taken, for a life lived in the full color of love rather than the grayscale of obligation.

Quietly, you slip out of bed, moving to the window where moonlight spills into the room, casting long shadows across the floor. As you gaze out at the world bathed in a silvery glow, you wonder about the life you might have had with Shoko. Would it have been easier? Would the love you shared have been enough to overcome the challenges you would have faced together?

But these questions offer no comfort, only a deepening of the ache that sits permanently in your chest. In this life, you are a wife, a role defined by others, your identity shaped by expectations you never asked for. In your heart, you mourn the woman you could have been, the life you could have led.

As the night deepens, you stand alone, lost in your thoughts, the silence of the house echoing the emptiness you feel inside. The realization that regret has become your constant companion is bitter, and you know that come morning, you will wear your mask again, the façade of the contented wife. But in the darkness, you allow yourself to grieve, to mourn a love lost to time and tradition, a reminder of all that could have been.

As you wandered through the dimly lit streets, your footsteps unsteady and your vision blurred, the city seemed to mirror your inner turmoil. The night was quiet, too quiet, and every soft echo of distant traffic or the rare passersby felt like an intrusion into your private world of sorrow. The weight of your decisions, the weight of a life lived in the shadow of what could have been, pressed down on you with every step you took.

The cold air bit at your skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of tears that streamed down your face, but it was a sobering reminder of the reality you were living. The whiskey had promised escape, a brief respite from your pain, but it had betrayed you, leaving you more exposed, more raw than before. The stark truth was unavoidable now: no amount of alcohol could fill the void left by Shoko, could smother the flames of what you still felt for her.

You paused under a streetlight, the light flickering above you as if struggling to maintain its own existence. You leaned against the cool metal of the lamppost, feeling as though it was the only thing keeping you upright. Thoughts of Shoko swirled in your head—her smile, the sound of her laughter, the way she looked at you with so much love and understanding. It hurt, remembering her like this, as though she was just out of reach, separated from you by more than just time and decisions, but by the very course of life you had chosen.

The voice in your head, her voice whispering, "I told you so," wasn't one of condemnation but of a heartbreaking foresight. She had known, perhaps even before you had allowed yourself to admit it, that the path you were choosing would lead to regret. Shoko had always seen the parts of you that you had tried to hide from the world, the parts that yearned for freedom and authenticity.

And now, standing alone under the flickering light, you allowed yourself to truly feel the magnitude of your loss. Not just Shoko, but the part of yourself that you had silenced for the sake of conformity, for the sake of a peace that now tasted bitter. You drive yourself mad at the memory of day after day of your youth together. You huffed against the cold night air as you thought about how lonely it has been, how truly upsetting it is that you chose wrong.

Eventually, you knew you had to move, had to keep walking back to the life waiting for you at home—a life that, tonight, felt like a prison. But with each step, a resolve began to form amidst the chaos of your emotions. This pain, this profound sorrow, could not be the end of your story. You couldn't allow your fears and the expectations of others to dictate the rest of your life. You owed it to yourself, and to the memory of what you and Shoko once shared, to find a way forward, to find happiness not just for your sake, but as a testament to the love that had once dared to challenge the world.

As you reached your door, a silent vow formed in your heart: you would find a way to live truly, to honor the love you still carried, and perhaps, one day, to heal. Tonight, you mourned. But tomorrow, you would begin to fight for a future where your heart no longer had to hide in the shadows.

You want to call Shoko tomorrow.

You want to hear her voice again.

You want to see her face again.

You want to love her better this time.

2014

IT WAS HARD TO HAVE A NEW START. After the tumultuous end of your marriage, returning to Tokyo felt both like a defeat and a fresh start. The ink barely dried on the divorce papers, you carried not just physical luggage but a heavy burden of emotional baggage. The dissolution of what was meant to be a lifelong commitment had left you feeling raw and exposed, but also strangely liberated, ready to reclaim the pieces of yourself that had been lost in the shadows of an unfulfilling union.

The Gojo clan, however, had its own views on your situation. Tradition and reputation were pillars of their standing in the jujutsu community, and your divorce was seen not just as a personal failure, but as a stain on the clan's honor. The elders' threats to expel you loomed large, casting a dark cloud over your return. But amidst the storm of disapproval and gossip, there was Satoru.

Satoru, with his unwavering loyalty and irreverent disdain for outdated conventions, stood by you like a beacon of support. When you voiced your fears about the elders' threats, he dismissed them with a wave of his hand and that confident smile that seemed capable of warding off any darkness.

The simplicity of Satoru's statement, "Happy together," carried with it a profound depth, echoing in the space between the two of you. It was a direct command, a plea, and a gentle piece of wisdom all at once. His eyes, usually so playful and mischievous, now bore the weight of genuine concern and a trace of personal regret, highlighting the seriousness of his intentions for you.

His words will always hit you with the force of a revelation. Satoru, despite his outward appearance of boundless confidence and joy, carried his own regrets—regrets about paths not taken, words not said, and choices made in the shadows of duty and expectation. His relationship with Suguru, whatever its depth and complications, had not led to the happiness that perhaps it could have, had circumstances been different.

In that moment, you understood that Satoru’s advice was not just about defying the elders or the clan. It was about seizing the chance for happiness that he, for all his power and freedom, felt he had missed. It was about living openly and without regrets, about choosing love over fear and societal expectations.

"Happy together," you repeated softly, the idea resonating deep within you. It was a simple concept, yet one that felt revolutionary given everything you had been through.

"Yes," Satoru confirmed, nodding emphatically. "You and Shoko have a chance to build something beautiful, something real. Don’t let fear or tradition stand in the way of that. Learn from our mistakes."

“Brother….” You whisper at your brother tenderly.

Seeing your hesitation, Satoru reached out, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "I know it's a lot to take in," he continued, his tone softening. "And I know you're worried about what fighting this battle might mean—not just for you, but for me as well. But you need to understand, I've been dealing with the clan's rigidness my whole life. I know how they think and how they operate."

He paused, ensuring he had your full attention. "What happened with Suguru... it taught me a lot. Life is too short, and the path of solitude and sacrifice for the wrong reasons—it's not worth it. I don't want you to look back one day, full of regrets, wishing you'd chosen differently."

The mention of Suguru brought a pang of sadness, a reminder of lost friendships and love that had once promised so much more. Satoru's voice was filled with a rare vulnerability as he shared these reflections, giving you a glimpse into the personal cost of his own experiences.

"And I don't want to see the clan's outdated prejudices destroy more lives, especially not the lives of people I care about," he added, his voice gaining strength. "You and Shoko have a chance at real happiness, a chance to live openly and love freely. That's what you should be fighting for, not the approval of some dusty old elders who cling to outdated traditions."

Your mind raced as you absorbed his words, the weight of your own fears battling with the burgeoning hope that Satoru's support ignited within you. It was daunting, the idea of standing up against the formidable structure of clan traditions and expectations. Yet, the thought of being with Shoko, of potentially creating a life filled with the kind of love and companionship you truly desired, offered a compelling counterpoint.

"Satoru, are you sure?" you finally asked, the concern clear in your voice. "Taking on the elders... it won’t be easy. They could retaliate."

Satoru smiled, a slight curve of his lips that carried both defiance and assurance. "Let them try," he said with a chuckle. "I’ve faced worse. And besides, it’s about time someone shook up the Gojo clan a bit. If not us, then who?"

His confidence was infectious, and despite the risks, you felt a surge of courage, bolstered by the support of someone who had become more than just a family member or a fellow sorcerer, but a true ally in your pursuit of happiness.

"Okay," you said, a newfound determination steadying your voice. "Let’s do this. For us, for Shoko, and for everyone else who’s ever been told they have to choose between love and tradition."

Satoru nodded, pleased. "That's the spirit. Now, go be happy. And remember, I've got your back."

With that assurance, you felt ready to face whatever challenges might come, knowing that whatever happened, you wouldn't be facing them alone. The path ahead was uncertain, possibly fraught with confrontation and challenges, but the promise of a life lived true to your heart made it a path worth taking.

As you walked through the familiar gates of Jujutsu High, your heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and nervousness. The school grounds were bathed in the golden hues of the setting sun, casting long shadows and bathing everything in a soft, forgiving light. It had been years since you last set foot here, years filled with longing and regret, but today you carried a new sense of purpose.

You scanned the area, looking for any sign of Shoko. As you approached the faculty parking lot, you saw her. She was just about to get into her car, her back to you, unaware of your presence. You paused for a moment, just watching her. Time had changed her, just as it had changed you. She seemed more confident, more assured in her movements, yet there was still that unmistakable grace about her that had first drawn you in.

"Shoko!" you called out, unable to keep the emotion from coloring your voice.

At the sound of her name, she froze. Slowly, she turned around, and when her eyes met yours, they widened in disbelief. For a moment, she stood there, stunned, as if she truly had seen a ghost.

You took a few tentative steps toward her, your heart in your throat. "Shoko, it’s me," you said softly, almost afraid that any louder voice might shatter the fragile moment.

Shoko blinked, as if to clear her vision, before a myriad of emotions played across her face—surprise, confusion, and then, a dawning joy. "I can't believe it's really you," she managed to say, her voice a whisper.

As you closed the remaining distance, Shoko's initial shock softened into a vulnerable hesitance. Her eyes, once brimming with an uncomplicated joy whenever she saw you, now held a guarded wariness—a shield forged from the years of pain and separation. Yet, despite the shield, there was an unmistakable flicker of the old affection, a tug at her heart that she seemed to fight.

"I—how long has it been?" Shoko asked, her voice shaking slightly, betraying the turmoil inside her.

"Too long," you replied earnestly, stopping just a breath away from her. You could feel the warmth of her, so close yet still so far, held at bay by the invisible walls she had built around herself.

Shoko swallowed hard, her gaze dropping to the ground before forcing herself to meet your eyes again. "Why now? Why come back after all this time?" Her voice was a mix of hope and hurt, needing to understand your sudden reappearance, fearing the reopening of old wounds.

You reached out, your hand hovering in the air, hesitating before gently tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear—an intimate gesture that once would have been second nature. Now, it felt like a relearning of the language of her soul. "I realized something," you began, your voice thick with emotion.

She looks at your eyes, as though she was searching for life, for truth. “What was it?”

"I realized I've been living half a life without you. And no matter how hard I tried to move on, to forget, you were always there—in the back of my mind, in every quiet moment. I came back because I need to know if there's a chance, any chance at all, that we could be something again."

Shoko's breath hitched at your words, her defenses wavering as the earnestness in your voice called to her. "You left," she whispered, a single tear escaping down her cheek. "You left when I needed you most. How do I trust that you won’t do it again?"

The pain in her words stung, a harsh reminder of the consequences of your past choices. "I know I hurt you, more than I can ever make right," you admitted, your own voice cracking with regret. "But I'm here now, Shoko, and I’m not going anywhere. I want to make things right between us, no matter how long it takes. I'm not asking for immediate forgiveness or for everything to go back to how it was. I just want the chance to show you, every day, that I'm here for you."

Shoko looked at you, her eyes searching yours for the sincerity she so desperately needed to see. The conflict was palpable as she struggled between the safety of her guarded heart and the dangerous hope your return offered. Slowly, imperceptibly at first, she nodded, the smallest agreement, but enough to flood your heart with a tumult of relief and determination.

"Okay," she said, her voice barely a whisper, laden with cautious optimism. "We can try. Slowly."

Hearing those words, feeling the tentative acceptance in her tone, you knew the road ahead would be fraught with challenges. But as you stood there, under the fading light of the setting sun, with Shoko's tentative permission to re-enter her life, you felt ready to face those challenges. Whatever it took, however long it took, you were prepared to spend every day proving that the love that had once bound you together was worth fighting for—a second time around.

You searched her face, looking for signs of the love you once shared, hoping it wasn't too late. "I've missed you, Shoko. More than I can say. I've thought about you every day. About us. I left so much unsaid, so much undone..."

Shoko smiled, a gentle, forgiving smile that melted any remaining fears. "I've missed you too," she admitted. "It's been hard, but I always hoped... somehow, I always hoped you’d come back. That we’d get some happily ever after like those cheesy fairy tales, you know?”

“We can have that now,” You whisper to her in a soft tone, her eyes bearing against your own. “Our own happily ever after, like those cheesy fairy tales.”

“Then give it to me.” She laughs softly as you let your fingers trace her cheeks. “Give me that cheesy fairy tale. I’ve waited long enough for it.”

The sun dipped lower, casting a warm glow that enveloped you both, making the moment feel almost magical. "Can we start over?" you asked, heart pounding with hope. "Can we give us another chance?"

"Yes," Shoko answered without hesitation, her voice firm and sure. "Yes, we can start over. Whatever it takes, however long it takes. We're worth another chance. We’ve always been.”

You beamed at her, taking a breath as tears of joy poured. “I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, you idiot.” She retorts back, tears of joy equally pouring.

As you stood there, holding each other in the fading light, the years of separation seemed to melt away, replaced by the promise of a new beginning. You knew there would be challenges ahead, but with Shoko by your side, you felt like you could face anything. This was your second chance—a chance to make things right, a chance to build a future together, founded not just on love, but on understanding, forgiveness, and renewed commitment. And this time, you were determined to make it last.

“Good luck to us, babe.”

You blushed at her words.

You reached out for her hands.

“Good luck to us, babe.”

She smiles and leans in towards you.

A new chapter finally begins together.

It was like blue summer all over again.

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abraxo-official · 1 year ago

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Positive rant!!

I love far harbor. I love the fog and the green and the pine trees. I love the creatures and how beautiful they are. I love all of the lakes and rivers and weird boundaries in the middle of the map. I love DiMA and faraday and they are in love and it makes me happy. I love the blind faith of the children of atom and the glow of the bottles and the comforting sound of the Geiger counter. I love the music, fearful and optimistic and real. I love the people of far harbor, stubborn and cold, yet also close knitted and caring . I love the campsites and the pre war remains

I love the themes of it all, the struggle between preserving nature and using it as a tourist attraction. I love the motif of loss, appearing in the very first scene all the way to the last. I love the way it adds a level of depth to everything in the commonwealth. Nick mourns for the life he had but can’t remember, yet also is afraid of not finding the answers. The sole survivor learns that, no matter how hard you try, no good deed goes unpunished. That they can’t save everyone. That hope is a blessing for the masses but a grave for the few. That the world is unpredictable and cruel, yet that is what makes it so lovely to being with. it plays out like a noir novella, well written and painfully, heartbreakingly tragic. What is a add-on to a video game franchise re-evaluates what it means to be alive, and who we are in our own stories.

I love this world so, so much.

#fallout 4 #fallout #shitpost #fo4 #fallout 4 companions #paladin danse #diamond city #nick valentine #acadia national park #far harbour dlc #death shroud #children of atom

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delphi-shield · 5 months ago

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Variations on a Theme

Claire Redfield x Leon Kennedy wc: ~2.6k post-vendetta, pre-death island. short fic that wouldnt leave me alone so i had to write it down. might write a continuation. happy sept. 30th, i miss my babies. dividers from @/adornedwithlight

summary: Sherry organizes a memorial service; Claire and Leon try to put aside their grief to mourn the way she does.

The call comes through at 11 PM the night before. Leon ignores most calls to his personal cell after nine, but for Claire, he makes an exception.

She never calls without purpose. Not anymore. There had been nights in the past when it had been anything and everything and the nothing in between that had kept them up until early hours of the morning. Calls crammed between operations and meetings, voicemails that still haunted his inbox. They had been better at this once.

The small talk hadn't been so stilted and forced like it was now. No ‘hey, I saw that report on Bali - was that you?’ because Claire would have known. He would have told her everything – or mostly everything. Leon would have redacted the parts that could get her into trouble. He'd leave out hostage scenarios gone wrong, spare her the inequity of his work even though she's sure to find out on her own.

Somewhere along the way, he'd started redacting so many details that his recountings had boiled down to ‘I'm glad to be back’. Somewhere along the way, Claire had stopped pressing for more.

Claire doesn't bother feigning interest in his last operation this time. She doesn't need to - TerraSave already put out a statement condemning the outcome.

She's good at small talk, always has been better at people than him. Conversation flows from her, connections come easy. He'd always admired that about her. Now, though, she's floundering. His short, to the point answers have her at a loss. That's new. Usually it just pisses her off.

“What’s going on, Claire?” he asks for the second time in their short conversation.

She lapses into silence. Redfield family trait - they love to go quiet on you when they've been found out. Like they're waiting for you to move on - like you'll forget if they just don't acknowledge it.

“Sherry's organized this memorial service,” Claire finally broaches. “For - y'know. I think it would mean a lot to her if you were there.”

Dread weighs heavy in his stomach. Of course he knows. He's been dreading this kind of thing since Terragrigia, since the gritty details of bioterrorism had been shoved in the average American's home. It's not hard to put two and two together, to realize what the Raccoon City incident had been. Maybe the public would never know the full extent, the involvement of the government, but there's footage of a hunter on LiveLeak, for fuck's sake. You could cover this shit up in the 90's, but they hadn't been on top of things when the century had turned, when more information than ever had been pumped to the general populace. Now it was like sticking a bandaid on a hemorrhaging wound.

He didn't think it would be one of their own who did this, who dredged up Raccoon City's bloated corpse and put it on display. He thought some well-meaning intern, some politician looking for a bump in numbers, trying to seem empathetic might pull this stunt – but one of their own?

He can't tell if it's a dim sense of betrayal that's twisting his gut into knots or if it's anger. He's carefully curated his life to avoid this. The month of September is his memorial. He doesn't need the cameras, the spotlight - he doesn't need other people sobbing out their grief right next to him, not when he keeps his tight to his chest.

Jesus. Sherry couldn't have asked him herself? Not in person, God no – but sent him a calendar invite or emailed him a flier - something that would give him plausible deniability. Something he could ignore, slide into the recycle bin, claim he never received and curse technology. Sorry, Sherry. All this new technology is just tough for me to keep up with. As if he's not got the latest and greatest in hand at all times.

“Are you going?”

Claire is quiet on the other end of the line.

“It would mean a lot to her.”

Leon snorts. “That's a ‘no’.”

Claire's huff is almost lost through the phone, but he can picture her pout well enough. Lord knows he's the cause more often than not.

It's not just that he hates this kind of thing, or that he's still hot off the heels of Benson's death, that the media could have a field day with him showing up to an event like this. If the wrong people hear about this, they'll all be lambasted as nutjob conspiracy theorists. If the wrong people have found out about this, it could get dangerous fast.

Leon does the only thing he can think to. Deflect.

“She shouldn't be doing this shit,” Leon points out. “Raccoon City is still classified.”

He can feel Claire roll her eyes from the other side of the phone. He bites his tongue. Improvement, he thinks. A month ago he would have cut loose, blown this whole conversation up.

“She's not releasing classified info, Leon. It's a memorial.”

“Brass is gonna have a problem with this, and I don't know if I can bail her out.”

“She got it cleared months ago. You'd know if–” Claire stops herself. She's trying, too, he realizes when she swerves around the giant crater that was the way he'd spent a year drinking himself into oblivion. “You’d know if you actually checked your email.”

Damn. She's got him there. Maybe Sherry already tried the calendar invite and the flier. In his mind's eye, she's still 12 years old, ruddy cheeked and gap toothed - clicking clumsily around a computer to make a flier, sending it to him, waiting–

He stops that train of thought, pins the ache in his chest on a recently cracked rib.

“Nobody asks Valentine to go to this shit.”

“Jill's busy.”

“And I'm not?”

“Can you just show up for Sherry?”

“Can't we just take her out for ice cream after or something?”

“She's not–”

Claire pauses on the other end of the line. Leon's not as good at this as he used to be, can't tell if she stopped herself so she doesn't laugh or so she doesn't snap at him.

Inhale. Shaky exhale. He can hear her struggling not to smile.

“She's not a kid anymore.”

He knows that. Of course he knows that. He's seen her in the field. She’s a powerhouse, full-grown and owning it.

Man up, Kennedy, he thinks. Do it for your girls.

The thought sends a jolt skittering across his skin, raises the hair on his arms. He hasn't thought of them like that in years - not sober, at least.

“I'm not sitting on the stage,” he says firmly.

“Me either.”

“And I’m not giving a speech.”

“I don't think it's a media thing,” Claire says, the way one might try to calm a spooked horse. “She just wanted to do something for people like us. It's gonna be low-key.”

Claire has a very different definition of ‘low-key’ than he does, but he hums all the same.

“All right,” he relents. “Send me the details.”

It doesn't take more than a few seconds for his phone to vibrate. She was ready for that, probably planned on sending it to him whether he said yes or no.

She sounds cheerful, reveling in her victory, when she winds up the call with the promise to see him next week. He can count the times Claire has been happy to see him lately on one hand; when he tosses his phone back to his nightstand, he counts that as a win.

The week flies by as if September 30th couldn't get there quick enough. Usually, the week of the 30th dragged - every hour of every day dedicated to a remembrance of the last normal hours of his life. Mourning is on hold for now - he’s saving it all up for Sherry's big event.

Claire texts him a reminder two days before. He types and retypes a response over and over, and somewhere in the revisions he realizes it's not just about him. She doesn't want to do this either. Not alone.

See you there. Ice cream after.

Leon’s locked in now. He prays for work to run long, for an emergency to crop up that sends him across the country - but the office is quiet. He's grateful not to run into Sherry, grateful that he won't have the chance to open his mouth and ruin things. There will plenty of time for that later.

You promised, he tells himself the morning of, phone in hand, debating on calling in sick. His feet are leaden when he dresses, hands heavy at the wheel of his car. He's in a daze the whole day, barely remembers driving to work. If anyone notices, they don't call him on it. He’s ghosting through another September unseen.

But the end of the day forces him back into his body. He'll be late if he sits in his car any longer. The engine turns over despite his prayers. He promised, he tells himself. He can't make them do this alone.

The park Sherry picked out for the memorial service is close to the office. He could walk, but he's not going to limit his options in case things go south, wants the ability to get in his car and bail. Halfway there, he realizes he's been followed. He stays in his car, watching the suburban in the rearview when they pull in a few spots down. Leon only relaxes when a gaggle of kids burst from the sliding door, run off ahead of their mother.

Claire's waiting for him when he hops out. She leans against her bike. Her hair is down - shorter than he remembers. Her thick jacket thrown over the seat of her bike, leaving her in a black turtleneck and a pair of orange corduroys.

“You know it's not formal, right?”

“I'm coming from work. Cut me some slack.”

Claire laughs, ducking her head. She pushes off of her bike and waves for him to follow. She swishes into the park ahead of him, her steps only faltering until he catches up to her side with a handful of long strides. Side by side like this, there’s enough room to slot Sherry in between them. Wherever she is - probably off playing party planner.

He always thought she’d be good at that. Sherry’s good at making sure people are taken care of, making sure they have what they need. She’s got a quiet sort of intensity that can spook people, sure, but she’s fun and exuberant - she could have had a shot at a real life, if things had been different.

She reserved a little gazebo for the event. White chairs in a handful of neat lines, a little charcoal grill off to the side, picnic table lined with candles and framed photos. It’s sweet, the way she’s done everything up. Probably put hours into this, getting things just so. She’s done a good job, honest.

Leon just can't stop checking every angle. He's braced for the sight of a flash - camera or muzzle, he's not sure which would be worse. Couldn't Sherry have picked somewhere more private? Couldn't she have rented out the basement of some bar, given him an excuse not to show? Sorry, Sherry, I'm working on myself - can't put myself through the temptation.

No. Of course not. She'd probably considered that already. The kid is too considerate for her own good. Rented out a gazebo just so no one had to face their demons.

Claire pauses at a row of chairs, gesturing for Leon to sit. He forgets to smile when he tears his eyes away from a suspicious copse of bushes. His hand ghosts against the small of her back, urging her to go first. He needs to be on the end, needs to be able to get to his feet quick when something happens.

If, he reminds himself. If something happens.

Claire slips into her seat without protest. Maybe the occasion has her feeling off, too. He tries not to read into it.

Leon lets out a low whistle as he sinks into his chair. “There's more people than I thought there'd be.”

“I know,” Claire hums. “Sometimes it feels like we're the only ones.”

How many people had been there? How many had been on the streets, had escaped by the skin of their teeth? How many of these people were here to mourn someone who had wasted away before their time?

His eyes lock onto hands and mouths, tries to match them to ones he sees in his dreams. Teeth snapping, hands teasing at him, pulling him under a writhing mass of rot, ichor spilling into his mouth, choking him.

Claire nudges him, leans closer. Her shampoo wafts across him, the stench of decades old decay that stings his eyes soothed by cherries. Her fingers light on his wrist.

“Still doing ice cream after? I know a place.”

If they were here for anyone else, he'd have grabbed Claire's hand and pulled her out to the parking lot. They'd cut the shit, go get ice cream and pretend things weren't complicated. He'd get butter pecan and Claire would tease him for being basic. Ice cream is a fifteen minute treat, but they'd linger until the parlor closed, until the workers were shooting them dirty looks.

But they're here for Sherry. Leon makes himself smile, mouth thinning.

“Yeah. After.”

People file in, some alone, the same haunted look that he wears well, others with whole families. There's maybe thirty people - small number on paper, but packed in like this makes it feel claustrophobic. He scans the crowd for Sherry again and again, searching for a glimpse of her. Claire’s hand stays on his wrist, heavier now. He wishes he could turn his hand and capture hers. He doesn’t know how to.

“She still comin’?” He murmurs to Claire.

“She better. This is her thing,” she grumbles back. The corner of his mouth lifts in a smirk. He knew she wasn’t all-in on this whole thing.

Before he can call her on it, Sherry beats down the center aisle, clambering up the steps of the gazebo. Leon clicks his tongue, sits a little straighter. There she is, digging Claire out of a moment of weakness once again.

“Thank you all so much for coming,” Sherry starts, shuffling note cards in her hands.

Claire lets out a coo under her breath. She leans closer, presses against Leon’s arm to whisper, “she’s so nervous. Look.”

Leon doesn’t need to be directed to see the tremble of Sherry’s fingers, but he looks anyway. Public speaking isn’t the issue, he knows that much - it’s got to be the topic.

Leon sits a little taller. He nudges Claire’s knee with his own, a silent ‘watch this’. He coughs into his fist, louder and longer than necessary.

Sherry tracks the sound instinctively. Her eyes light on them in the crowd. The apples of her cheeks bunch up, smile so wide that she's transformed right back into that little girl he knew, that clung to his hand and swung his arm as they walked down the road. Her words trail off, pause long enough to be noticeable but not to be awkward.

“I’m so grateful that each and every one of you have taken the time to come here tonight,” she continues, her eyes lingering on Leon, flitting back to Claire.

There. That’s his good deed for the month.

“You’re buying,” he whispers to Claire once Sherry’s eyes have finally drifted away.

Claire snorts. She pats his arm. He can see it all over her face - yeah, right.

Yeah, right. His girls are gonna burn an ice cream-shaped hole in his wallet by the end of the night.

#cleon #claire redfield x leon kennedy #resident evil fanfic #cleon fic #claire x leon

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hp-fanfic-archive · 1 year ago

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Make Me Smile (Come Up and See Me) by busaikko Pairing: Remus/Severus/Sirius, Raising Harry AU Rating: E Word Count: 26k Podfic available here Read by: randomicicle Length: 3-4 hours AU. In the aftermath of October 31st, 1981, Severus Snape, Remus Lupin, and Sirius Black try to set their differences aside to keep Harry safe.

find the full podfic library here

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235uranium · 11 months ago

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like the scene sucks otherwise bc its way too quick, in the game its all tension and building dread, but this Single Fucking Frame is so much better than just showing joker bleeding

so fucked up that the p5 anime sucks ass bc the way they did joker's murder is SO good

#☢️.txt #tbqh i honestly forgot it was only in the animation bc its become such a typical way to show the interrogation room scene #but theres something about it thats just so impactful. the slow motion. the only sound being the silenced gunshot #p5a is bad except for when akechi is there #somehow they got akechi so fucking right despite taking Ls everywhere else #tbqh i genuinely wonder if p5a ended up using parts of akechis og scrapped confidant #since the royal confidant plays out pretty differently but maintains the same themes and concepts #akechi giving joker a token to promise a rematch (that joker then holds onto as a sign that he hopes for akechis survival)#the ray gun and akechis lost dream of being a hero #(proof of justice being joker mourning + trying to figure out more about who akechi is beyond the whole revenge driven hitman thing)#(vs rank 5 with akechi vaguely threatening joker via gun about and mentioning that he played hero with a ray gun as a kid)#ik the writers mentioned pre-royal that they were unsatisfied with akechis writing due to waffling about how to handle him #which would explain why p5a portrays it as between vanilla and royal

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sebs-raging-with-testosterone · 25 days ago

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this is my little corner of the internet, yes, and even if it’s tiny, and will stay that way for a while, i still will say what needs to be said and what is probably being thought about by millions of my fellows.

i’m a transdude. i’m pre-everything, and have an appointment set up with an endocrinologist next week that will probably help me get on testosterone. i’m 17-years-old. i’ve been out as a transguy, as anything queer for that matter, for a little over a year now.

i’m terrified. i did not plan on being another part of the vast majority of history that has come to exist in this country when i had first discovered myself and come out. i did not plan fearing for my life, my identity, literally every single second of the day. i know some already have to deal with that, and i know i already have to be careful, but this is a whole new level of fear.

and i’m currently in the depths of recovery from both SH and the beginning stages of an ED, both of which are constantly on my mind, same with SI, and now i have this. this was not a good timing at all. i’m terrified i might lose my internal battle before they can come for me, because of the fear that they will. (i’ll keep living, if purely in rebellion of them and in the intention to give my fellows hope and strength.)

but do i go stealth? i don’t pass, people will misgender me. should i not correct them when they do?

or should i wear my pronoun pin? should i do trans themed makeup when i go out? should i patch up some pants of mine, covered in patches that are speaking about the rights to my very existence?

or should i detransition for the time being? should i, to the outside world, become a girl?

should i just simply exist as i always have?

i don’t know what to do. i’m terrified. i want to help, help make some random queer stranger feel not so alone when they see my pronoun pin, help trans kids who are still in the closet know that we are still living when they see me out and about, help rebel against those who hate my every breath on this earth. but i don’t want to be killed. i don’t want my boyfriend, my sibling, (both of which are as equally queer as i am, only one is “visibly” so), my mom, to have to mourn someone, and see their loved one go down with history.

i have a life i want to live. what do i have to do to have it? what do i have to do in order to breathe anymore?

i’m terrified. i am. i really, truly am. and i’m unsure of what to do next, but i think my mind is pretty made up.

i’ll wear my pronoun pin. i’ll patch up some pants of mine. i’ll paint my face with trans themed makeup. i’ll live visibly queer and transgender. i’ll get on Testosterone. i’ll grow facial hair and i’ll speak deeply, as my chest is still visible.

i have every right to live my life as who i am, and to shout that from the treetops if i have to.

and i want all my queer, trans fellows to remember, and keep in mind, you are not alone. we have been here before, our community has been here before. we survived it ten million times before, now we have to survive it again and i’m unfortunately sure this is not the last time we’ll have to.

my advice: stick together. i know we’re all a bunch of socially awkward people, but this is your time to make connections. any trans or queer person, you two are now buddies, best friends, you have each other’s backs, and are always there for one another when they come to you randomly about anything under the sun. if you need someone like that right now, i’m your new buddy, i’m your new best friend, come to me any time of the day. if you aren’t in a situation where you can safely be out and the danger of your outness is pretty much entirely confirmed, don’t be out to those people/the public. if you can pass, pass. if you are visibly trans or queer, and you do have a safe/r place to do so, do so if you want to. but most of all, don’t give up on yourselves. it’s gonna be a rough 4 years, but i can promise you, we’re gonna survive, and that means you have to live. it’s hard, no one said it would be easy, but we got this. you are worthy of love, of acceptance, of support, of everything they say we aren’t. there is nothing wrong with you, and you don’t deserve death of any kind. if i keep living, you keep living. we can do this together, too.

we’re gonna get through this, together. STICK TO EACH OTHER LIKE GLUE, THEY WANT US SEPARATED SO WE HAVE LESS POWER!!!

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theresattrpgforthat · 11 months ago

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Two player world building games?

THEME: Two-Player Worldbuilders

Hello there! Almost everything I found for this request required a deck of cards of some kind, so I hope you like card games!

Strata, by Vincenzo Ferriero.

A Mythopoeia Micro-RPG

Welcome fine archaeologist to your new digging ground! Strata is a tabletop role-playing game where you dig to uncover the history hidden under the many layers of rock that have formed over the millennia. Hope you brought along your Equipment!

A fairly simple one-page game, Strata mostly consists of rolling for random discoveries as you dig through each layer of rock. You’re also responsible for naming each age, usually after something you discover there. While this game looks like it could be played solo, with two people you’d be able to bounce ideas off of each-other as to what each discovery means about the age you’re digging through.

HOME, by Deep Dark Games.

HOME is a roleplaying and mapmaking game for 1 to 4 players.

You are a Mech pilot who must protect their home from Kaiju. Explore and map an alien realm as you search for the source of the Kaiju. Prepare for battle by gearing up, building bases, and uniting the world against the terrifying monster. And when the moment of truth arrives, clash against increasingly dangerous Kaiju that will destroy your home if you fail.

Important relationships keep you going in your darkest hour, veteran pilots make sacrifices for the greater good, and you must decide whether to protect important military locations or cherished cities.

This game is much more focused on action, moving your characters through a battlefield using d6’s to determine what boons and banes will help or hinder you in your battle across an alien space. While you’re going to be spending a considerable amount of time in battle, the game’s map is meant to be added to and elaborated upon as you play.

The link above is for the Kickstarter page, but the Quickstart is available now on Itch if you’re interested.

The Whimsy Collectors, by Stori_Lundi.

The Whimsy Collectors is a cooperative game for two people about exploring a fantastical universe together, finding unique items, and selling them to their special customers. You'll need a tarot deck, 2 tokens, and 2d6.

Using a tarot deck, this game uses the cards as locations where your characters can search for items and add them to their bag. You’ll also use the cards to represent customers and their wants; but be careful, your characters can only carry so much. As a result you’ll have to manage your resources carefully. You’ll tally up points according to how well your finds are suited to your customers.

The game comes with a chart to help you determine what members of the Major Arcana are like as customers, as well as a worksheet where you can record what you find where. The game also comes with two pre-generated characters with special abilities, which you can use to move strategically across the map. If you like a game that the two of you can huddle over while drawing cards, this might be your game.

This Old House, by CarrionComfort.

This Old House is a GMless game for 1 to 4 players that uses the act of building a House of Cards to tell the story of just that, a house. You will use a standard deck of playing cards, a 4-sided die, and prompts to tell the story of a home, the family and things that inhabit it, and the land it sits on.

These stories will be crafted by you, even with some friends, as a way for you to create land, give it life, and then tell the full history of a single home. From the first piece of lumber laid, through its first family celebrating new life, mourning death, and dealing with heartbreak. Then that story ends with the house being consumed by fire, lost in foreclosure, or just left vacant depending on whether the House of Cards tumbles or if a Joker is pulled.

This game looks like a good option for games that zoom in on the personal and intimate. You will focus on a house throughout its life, using playing cards as a construction material as well as a game oracle. If you want a game with an unexpected ending, this might be the game for you.

The Ground Itself, by Everest Pipkin.

The Ground Itself is a one-session storytelling game for 2-5 players, played with household materials (a coin, a six-sided die, and a deck of cards).

Focusing on place- one specific place, chosen by the group - The Ground Itself unfolds over radically disparate time periods that may range from 4 days to 18,000 years. By casting wildly into time, it considers how places both change and remember themselves. Fundamentally, The Ground Itself is about the echoes and traces we leave for others after we are gone.

This game is a reflection on a place that 2 or more people create together, using playing cards to generate questions about the location. Time may pass by as days, years, or even millennia. Players can choose when to zoom in onto what the game describes as a “focused situation”, allowing them to add an omen, a party, or some other narrative element to the story.

The game is meant to be played in a single session, so at the end you should find yourself with a location that bears the meaning of a number of events. The designer has also added a number of ways to change the game, such as using tarot cards instead of playing cards, playing places that have no inhabitants, or changing how much time passes in between each round of play.

A Traveller in the City, by Palleon Press.

A Traveller in the City is a collaborative map-drawing game in which you (& any friends you bring along) visit a CITY from your own imagination, drawing it out step-by-step! All you need is a deck of standard playing cards, a single six-sided die, & some stuff to draw with.

Work together to guide the solitary TRAVELLER thru their stroll. Picture the sights they see, the people they meet. Gradually, sketch a map– not of the place itself, but of your own memory of it. For you are not its creator, nor any kind of expert. You are a visitor. How well will you know this place, when it’s already time to leave?

This is based on the Carta system, which involves using a series of cards to represent a map that your character will explore. In this game, both players will control the same traveller, and draw on a grid to represent what this traveller discovers while exploring the city.

The game itself is rather small, and can be printed as a pocket zine for easy of transport - great for just carrying in a pocket for a spur-of-the-moment game.

Aurora, by World Champ Game Co.

Aurora is a tabletop roleplaying game for 2-6 players. This game is deliberately designed to be played comfortably while practicing social distancing or together around a communal table when the necessity for distancing has ceased. Aurora uses 3 phases or modes of play, each of which can be used or removed from the entirety of the game, depending on how the group wants to play. In the first phase, players mail blank cards to another, which will be turned into a custom deck using the zip codes and other numbers. I can see using 5d10 as another way to generate random numbers to help create your custom cards.

In the second phase, city creation begins. Regardless of the setting you decide to create, the city is going to be torn between a Darkness and a Light. Your cards will help determine both of these, as well as the map of the city and the people who live there. If you don’t use the first phase, a deck of tarot cards might work as a good substitute for the oracle.

The final phase uses the map and the cards to generate a story inside the city that you’ve just created. Each player may be responsible for their own character, or they might take ownership of a faction or a number of characters - which might be a good option if there’s just two of you.

If what you want is a lot of room for creativity, this might be for you.

You Might Also Want To Check Out...

My Map-Making Games Post

My Town-Builders Post

My Worldbuilding Post

#tabletop games #indie ttrpgs #game recommendations #dnd #asks #indie ttrpg #worldbuilding

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