#yes this is somewhat inspired by the happy fits

[baby-foxes-and-frens]

Kevin Andrew and Robin as rock band but Kevin gets a fancy ass electric violin

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader

W/C: 6.9K (oh god lol) #NSFW, fingering, implied fucking, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, angst, fluff, smut, happy ending, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is an actor, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), Gojo is an actor, Getou is a manager/agent, Toji is a stunt coordinator, Jin is a teacher tags: @kamote-kuneho @better-imagination-9 @flowersatwork @watyousayin 

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. The fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised with a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

Truth is out–Ryoumen Sukuna is the father, (Name) tells fans on social media!

Sukuna hated seeing that shit. The circus celebrities had to dance through used to be funny until he somehow got swept up into it. Until he suddenly had a baby boy that looked so much like him and so much like you. 

He spent too much time on your socials, scrolling through promotion posts and photos of you at red carpet events and premieres–and then he remembered you had a private account. One that you said he could follow. One that he never followed.

Sukuna rolled onto his back and stared at the ceiling as he sulked in bed. Was he really about to sacrifice his pride for this? Was he seriously gonna request to follow your personal account just moments after articles dropped and tweets were sent about him being the baby daddy? Could his pride take it? 

Fuck me. This shit is highschool. 

He requested to follow, and not even a minute later, you approved it. 

That had him interested. Did you want him to follow? Did you want him to be part of his little guy's life? Were you feeling a rush of anxiety and excitement like he was right now? 

“Get over it, you fucking idiot,” he mumbled to himself before scrolling through your photos. 

There was so much more here. So many photos of you pregnant, of Touma when he was so ridiculously itty bitty, of when you were recovering in the hospital, looking worn out and exhausted, but still beaming as you held your little boy. 

There were photos of his first birthday and the cute…rustic cake you'd apparently made yourself. Your agent, Getou, was there, as was one of your fellow agency mates, Gojo, along with some other folks Sukuna did and didn't recognize. 

Of course, his boy–your boy lit up the centre, eyes glittering with the reflection of sparklers and the warmth of a good, safe home. He was happy. The boy–his boy–your boy was happy. 

Then he called you. He couldn't help it, not anymore.

Sukuna paced around his penthouse, sipping on his spiked coffee and trying to desperately control his…nerves? Alpha instincts? Excitement? Fuck, he didn't know. But he was full of whatever it was, and it drove him nuts.

“Hi!” You answered as you picked up, so full of life as usual. “Been a while. How're you? What's up?” 

Sukuna felt so, so old suddenly. Why were you so awake in the morning? 

“Think you can spare some of that pep in your step for me?” Sukuna asked. He smiled when he heard you laugh on the other line. “Dunno how the hell you're so awake in the morning.”

“Well, I don't party or work on cars until the crack of dawn,” you purred back, so sweet and teasing. Sukuna almost got hard. Ugh. Ugh. What the fuck was wrong with him? 

“Hah? What, you sayin’ I'm irresponsible ‘n make shitty choices, babe?” 

“Absolutely.” 

“Tch. Omegas.” 

You snickered again before cutting to the chase: “So, you're calling about my Touma?”

Sukuna swallowed. “Yeah. Gotta say I'm pretty fucking confused.”

“Yeah, I get it.” He heard you shift in bed, triggering a rumble of grumpy noises from your little one. You hushed him gently and apologized before the small, crackly purring resumed faintly in the background. The thought made Sukuna's heart ache.

“What do you wanna know?” 

Sukuna inhaled deeply. “Why'd you keep it?” 

“I wanted him,” you said. “Next question.”

“...When did you know?” 

“Mmh…I guess about a week or two after we stopped hooking up.”

“And you didn't say shit?” 

You went silent for a moment, and Sukuna felt his nerves tingle and prick. He wasn't anxious. He wasn't feeling betrayed. It wasn't any of that. Absolutely not. 

“I guess I got cold feet,” you admitted. “I don't--I know how many baby daddy accusations you get, y'know? I didn't want you to think I was just trying to get you to pay me out or something.” 

Oh. Okay. That made sense, actually. 

Too many omegas and women Sukuna fucked around with pointed the finger at him if they caught some sort of STI or fell pregnant; even if it was months after fucking, Sukuna would be suspected of fathering the pregnancy of a newly-pregnant, ex-partner he hadn't seen in eternities, and the media would run to the ends of the earth with it. He was the infamous bad boy the media circuit loved to prey on. And Sukuna didn't really care for it–not until now. Not until those fucks ruined his opportunity to be a dad. 

“Fucking–” Sukuna sighed and put his mug down to rub his face. “Shit. Shit. Fucking media bastards. Fuck.”

“I need to get my car tuned,” you said.

Sukuna deadpanned. “Read the fucking room, babe, we're not–”

“Do you want me to bring Touma?” You finished, undeterred by the alpha's grouchiness. “So you can meet him? I think he'd like that.”

Oh. Oh. Ouch. His heart–was Sukuna about to die? Why'd his chest hurt so much? What the fuck? 

Sukuna cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair. “I–yeah? Yeah. Alright.” 

“Okay, cool. When's your next–” 

“Tomorrow.” He cleared his throat again and scratched at the back of his neck. “Any time.” 

You stifled a laugh poorly. “Don’t be nervous, Sukuna.” 

“M'not. Fuck you.” 

“I can do tomorrow. Let's saaay…1pm?” 

“Yeah, sure. 1pm.”

You rolled up at 12:59pm. 

Sukuna had the garage open, everything tidy and ready to go like he actually gave a fuck about tuning your car when his literal fucking son was about to be in his presence. But he was so not nervous. Definitely not fucking nervous. Nope. Nuh-uh. Never. 

You stepped out of the car and Sukuna felt his heart jump; you looked the same as you did last time he saw you. You were dressed more casually, though, done up in joggers and runners with a university hoodie to top it all off. Clearly, you didn't care to impress today. 

You threw Sukuna an easy smile before pulling open the back door and taking care in plucking your chubby bunny from his car seat. All the while, Sukuna wandered closer and closer, but maintained a respectful distance just in case your momma bear came out to bite. He knew you had an impressive temper when your easy-going self got pushed too far, and he would rather not bring that out right now. 

“Pa!” Your son yipped as soon as he got up into your arms. “Puh Pa!” 

You melted immediately, punching Sukuna in the gut with your happy scent of maple syrup and cardamom as the little one nuzzled up to you, repeating variants of “pa!” as he rubbed his chubby cheeks and snotty nose against your neck and face to get that perfect scent onto him. 

“You're so sweet, bunny,” you cooed and adjusted him in your arms as you met Sukuna the rest of the way. “Hey, hey! So, did you want to meet him first, or–?” 

Sukuna didn't know what the fuck to do, honestly. 

“I, uh. Car shit first. What needs tuning?” He drawled, watching the pup clinging to you with rapt attention. 

Admittedly, Sukuna didn't really pay attention to what you were saying and what you were gesturing to; he was too captivated by the faint wisps of scent he caught from your little one. He smelled of smoke and syrup–a perfect combination of his parents’ scents. 

And he just looked so much like the both of you. Touma's skin tone tilted more your direction, but the glowy, bronzey quality that Sukuna brought to the table still shone through in its own weird way. His eyes were almond-shaped like his own, but bore the same, welcoming colour of yours. And, fuck, his hair was just a perfect match to Sukuna's. If the little shit got Maori tattoos too, he'd be a tiny carbon copy. 

Damn. Speaking of–would his mom wanna meet the little shit? Her grandson? Would she ever bother leaving Hawaii to–

“You get all that?” You asked. 

Sukuna stared at you. “Get what?” 

You pursed your lips like you so often did and turned to the big, bad alpha. 

“Maybe we should do the meet ‘n greet first, huh?” You swayed a little and kissed Touma awake. “Baby, you wanna meet a friend?” 

“Buh!” Touma exclaimed. You gently guided his little face to look at Sukuna, and the boy looked star struck staring up at the absolute unit that was Ryoumen Sukuna. 

“Touma, this is Sukuna.” You closed the gap between the two of you a little more, and Sukuna leaned down to look at the little one. His little one. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as he looked over the little thing. “You sure this thing’s mine? Looks a little small.” 

You laughed. “If you were born as big as you are, I’m so, so sorry for your mother.” You nuzzled Touma’s little cheek and bounced him a little. 

“Wuh!” Touma’s little arms flew up towards Sukuna, and the towering man looked a little more than nervous, looking at the tiny pudgy hands like they were deadly weapons. 

“Come on, don’t look at him like that.” You took Sukuna’s hand and delivered it to Touma. “He’s curious. He hasn’t met anyone as big and tall as you, y’know?” 

Sukuna huffed, but let the little one grab at his fingers and hold his hand. “What, you don’t have another alpha looking after you? Hard to believe that. You're the neediest little bitch I know.” 

“Stop. I'm not Yorozu,” you huffed, and Sukuna cringed at the name. “He has alphas around, sure. But not big ones like you–security excluded. It's not like other men want to play nice with another alpha's pup.” 

Sukuna caught the hint of a frown on your face, and his hackles started to rise. 

“Some dumbfuck giving you grief?” Sukuna asked, voice rolling with thunderous promise. He'd kill whatever moron fucked with you and his pup. You just had to drop the name.

You sighed, light-hearted. “You know what the rich and famous are like--we're the worst.” 

Sukuna growled, and Touma mimicked the noise as best as he could with his pathetically teeny tiny crackled voice. Fuckin’ cute as shit. 

“Tch. Don't sell yourself short.” 

“I'm just trying to say I don't need that around my boy, and I sure as hell don't want it around me, either.” You nodded and stepped closer as Touma reached up for Sukuna again. Apparently just holding his hand wasn't doing it for the boy anymore. 

“Good. Don't need those pathetic fucks around the runt–oi, wait, what the fuck're you–” 

“Wup, wup!” Your son shrieked as you helped bully Sukuna into holding him.

“He wants uppies.” 

“Uppies,” Sukuna balked.

“He wants you to–okay, you're bad at this–don't hold him like that! Here, do it like–” you cut off as you helped Sukuna get a comfortable hold on Touma while the littlest one squirmed and squeaked in delight, trying to climb up onto Sukuna's shoulder but failing miserably. 

Sukuna twitched a smile as you sighed, exasperated by the ball of energy trying to scale the mountainous man. But he got a hold of him, tucking his arm under his butt and holding his back to make sure the little shit didn't go plummeting to the floor. 

“You give your ma hell, huh? I can get behind that,” Sukuna hummed. His son's little hands papped at his face, grabbing at his nose and jaw–specifically over the dark tattoos streaking along the curves and cut of his features. 

And you smiled the entire time. You pursed your lips tightly to hide it, but you did it so poorly. You always did. Maybe it was on purpose. 

“So, can I tell you about my car problems now?” 

Sukuna held onto his runt while you explained what flaws, either cosmetically or mechanically, were bothering you. It mostly consisted of slight dents from other assholes not knowing how to park, paint scratches, and more of that sort. As a fellow car guy, Sukuna could understand the anguish of having a favourite baby get all dinged up. 

“Not hard to fix,” Sukuna decided. He held the hood up with one hand and looked over the motor–everything looked clean and well-maintained. He was almost impressed. “But, well, it'll cost ya. Uraume can send the details.” 

You nodded. “Sure, sure, sounds good. I'm never taking this thing on the road again after it's fixed. Too many fucking idiots out there with piss poor driving skills.” 

The mechanic smirked. “Ho? So beating up your car is what makes you start cussin’, huh? Noted.” He let the hood fall closed and adjusted his hold on the now-sleeping tot. “Couldn't even get you to do that in bed.” 

“Psht, don't say that in front of the baby, Sukuna, jeeze,” you sighed and rubbed your face. “Babies remember more than you'd like to know.” 

“Huh. You think he'll remember when he got–” 

“No, he won't remember his inception.” You laughed and shook your head, but paused when you saw smears of concealer on your fingers and tutted. 

“How long's the car gonna take? Should I get a rental?” You asked before the man could comment.

“Probably, if you want me to detail this thing right,” Sukuna mumbled. He reached out and turned your chin back to him, looking at the spots concealer missing, hinting at dark circles under your eyes. 

Your face grew hot, but you nodded and cleared your throat. “Yeah, okay. I'll, uh. I'll call someone to pick us up–” 

“I'll take you home.” 

You brightened the slightest bit. “Yeah? I–okay.” You pulled his hand from your face and smiled. “I'll grab the car seat.” 

Sukuna liked your house. It was a nice mix of traditional and modern with large stretches of woodgrain and bamboo. A neat outdoor garden and pond decorated the front, but a bigger, more lush collection of tropical plants greeted guests. It was beautiful, if one was desperate to be in nature. 

“I'm just gonna get him to bed, be one second.” 

Sukuna nodded and pocketed his hands as he pretended to not watch you trot upstairs with the sleepy cub melting in your arms. You still had a nice ass even after popping that little melon out. Huh. 

He looked around your space more, wandering with slow, lumbering steps. The house wasn't huge by any means, but it was cozy and warm, quiet and hidden away from the city's gaze. That was probably why you chose it–here, you could be honest with yourself. You could shield your babe from the brutality of your career and keep him safe from leering eyes. Honestly, one of the leaves on your giant monstera could hide him from the whole universe. 

Guy's too obsessed with growing shit. It ticked him off, but he didn't know why. 

Maybe it was all the photos of you and Touma. Maybe it was because he wasn't in them and too many other men were in his place, lining your walls in the protection of cheap IKEA frames–but Sukuna didn't want you. No, no, Ryoumen Sukuna did not want anyone. He didn't want you. He didn't need to settle down and–

“You want a glass of wine?” You asked when you came back down the stairs. “It's plum wine. Don't really have any scotch or anything, but I–” 

Sukuna scoffed before a mocking laugh slipped out of him. You paused, looking at him with bleak attention as he shook his head and pocketed his hands. Your request for him to stay pissed him off; clearly, you expected something more from him.

“Whaddaya think is gonna happen here, huh? You think we're gonna fall in love, pick up where we left off, have a happy little fuckin’ family to tell the tabloids about?” 

“What?” You asked. “I never–”

“Didn't have to. Gotta admit, you did a better job than the rest of the whores that tried wrangling me in to–”

“All I asked,” you cut him off, voice quiet but firm, “Is if you wanted wine. I’m not proposing, Sukuna.” 

Sukuna didn’t like that. The whole…not-being-into-him and not wanting him to stick around after he just shut you down. He sucked his teeth and took a breath, about to say something, but you spoke first. 

“I know this is a PR thing. I know how the whole media circus works–you want your ex to stop bothering you, and I want people to stop asking questions about who the fucking father of my son is.” You paused, staring Sukuna dead in his eyes, a quiet, simmering rage boiling just beneath the surface of placid control. 

“Call my manager when the car’s done,” you decided, sounding beaten down and exhausted. “I’ll send someone for it. Thanks for the ride home.”

Next thing the man knew, he was ushered toward the door and stood in the doorway, stuck on the idea of being kicked out of his omega’s–no, no, out of an omega’s house like he was trash. 

“Fucking–wait, just–” 

“What?” You snapped.

“I could–glass of wine doesn’t sound too bad–”

You shoved the bottle into his hands and slammed the door. 

Sukuna tried to sleep it off–as in, he slept around to forget about the crushing weight of rejection collapsing down on him, shattering his chest, spearing his heart with shattered bone. 

You still kept being so fucking nice to him, too. You never slandered him, never spoke ill whenever he was asked about in interviews–you spared his reputation with a kind smile every time you had to talk about him or to him. 

And he was grateful for it, even if he didn't return the favor. It's not like he was on a smear campaign, no, but anytime a hook up would ask about you, he wouldn't give a glowing review, per se. But it wouldn't be scalding either. Just sheer indifference tainted with drops of bitterness stemming from unripe guilt.

It went on like that for months–until you did your parental duties, and set aside your feelings about Sukuna for the sake of your son.

“Uraume, get that,” Sukuna called as his phone rang. He was too busy fucking around under the hood of his latest project to wipe his hands free of grease and pick up himself, obviously.

But Uraume was there for a reason. They picked up the phone with a polite hello before their sharp frigidity melted into rounded edges. 

“(Name)-san,” they hummed. “It's good to hear from you. Do you need to talk to Sukuna-san?” 

Sukuna started wiping his hands off so unbelievably fast. 

“He's working on a car right now. You know how he can be when he's focused.”

“Fucking–piece of shit–what the fuck–” somehow, he got even more grease and oil on his hands thanks to that stupid fucking rag. God, what a nightmare.

“Sure, I can take a message.” 

“Fuckin’ shit fuck, fuck.” He wiped his hands on his designer jeans before running to Uraume and gesturing for the phone.

Uraume's brows raised, and they actually smiled. 

“Ah, hold on, Sukuna-san's here.” 

Sukuna snatched up the phone, ignoring the knowing look glimmering in Uraume’s eyes. Ugh. Ugh. Betas.

“Hey,” Sukuna said after clearing his throat. 

“Hey! Ume said you were working on a car? You didn't have to stop to talk.” 

“Yeah, well.” Sukuna shrugged to himself and kicked a scrapped car part, sending it skittering across the ground and clanking into other parts. Jesus, when did his shop get so messy? “Needed a break anyway.” 

“Ah. You work too hard, you need to take breaks more often,” you laughed sweetly. “So, listen, Touma's birthday's coming up–”

“Shit, seriously?” Sukuna grinned and kicked another chopped part. “Fuck. How old's the little shit turning?” 

“Two! He's growing up so fast, I wish I could slow down time and–” you paused and laughed, suddenly sounding unsure and a bit nervous. “Sorry, sorry, was about to go on a tangent. Anyway, there is a little get-together, but you don't have to come. Satoru and Toji'll be there. But your brother and his son'll be there, too, so it won't suck completely.

“Otherwise, if you want to come see him earlier or something, that's fine, and–and you're not cutting me off and I didn't think I'd get this far so I'm losing the plot.” 

Sukuna huffed. “What, you don't want me to fuckin’ listen, huh?” 

“I know you will since I have such a pretty voice, but I'm surprised you're being a good boy for once.” 

The mechanic rolled his eyes and rubbed his face. Who knows if it was to wipe away embarrassment or fatigue. 

“You’re exhausting.” 

“And you’re a dick.” There was a special brand of teasing bitterness behind those words, but the vibes were balanced perfectly; seemed you were still cranky about what he said, but you were willing to let it slide.

Sukuna chuckled, relaxing the slightest bit. “Alright. I don't know what the fuck kids like at that age, but I'll figure somethin’ out. I can at least show up Jin.” 

“Wow.” 

“Text me time and place. I'll be there.” After a moment, he added, “I’ll bring some plum wine. Fancy shit.”

The hidden rumble of a purr snuck its way out from your side, and Sukuna did everything he could to suppress his alpha's reciprocation.

“Sounds good. See you then, Sukuna.”

Toji answered the door. 

“Hah. Why the hell are you here?” The fuckhead ex-Zenin asked with a stupid, shitty smirk on his dumbass face. 

Sukuna strained not to throw the first punch. He really shouldn't murder someone at his--your son's birthday party. Murder is bad. Murder is bad. 

“Fuck you.” Hey, at least it wasn't murder. “‘M here for my fucking kid.” 

Toji crossed his arms and suddenly looked beyond bored as he leaned against the doorframe. 

“Your kid? You mean (Name)’s kid?” He wondered, putting on a show of thinking. “Weird.”

“You're one to talk. You forgetting what you did to your own brat? You fuckin’--”

“Sukuna!” Your sweet voice called, instantly changing the atmosphere. “Glad you came. Do you–oi, Toji, move, stop bodyguarding. You're not a bouncer.”

“Eh?” Toji stayed in his spot as you smacked at his arm and tried to push him away. “I'm just standing here. Not bodyguarding. Minding my business.” 

“You’re so full of shit.” You wheezed and squeaked as the man suddenly gave way, nearly making you crash into him and plummet to the floor. But you caught yourself and hissed at the dark-haired menace until he whistled innocently and waltzed away. 

“Fucking--why’s he here again?” Sukuna grumbled as you let him in. He leaned down to nose at your cheek with a grumpy, quiet grunt--typical greeting procedures for an interested individual or bonded pair. But the way you choked on whatever you were about to say meant he must've caught you off guard. 

“He's uh–we work together. We've worked together? He was the stunt coordinator for some movies I've been in.” You cleared your throat and took the present bag from Sukuna to place with the others. “And I babysit Gumi sometimes.” 

“Gumi? What the fuck is a Gumi?” 

“Megumi? His son?” Oh. Oh. “I babysit Yuuji too, so. Thick as thieves, y'know?” 

Sukuna nodded a little, thinking hard on the lore. He liked that Yuuji was taken care of by you, but surely that wretched Gumi could go somewhere else. Toji was probably just leeching off of you. 

“Oi, Momma, get in here,” Toji crowed from wherever all the baby giggles and excitement bubbled from in the house. “Your boys need some maternal guidance–” 

“Toji, don't make it weird!” Jin whisper-yelled before going on a long-winded rant about this and that, about proper behaviour and attitudes in front of children (not that the kids were paying attention to anything Toji did). 

You gave Sukuna a tired smile. “Come on. It won’t be that bad, I promise.”

Sukuna sighed, but let you drag him to his demise, bottle of wine in-hand.

But it wasn’t that bad. Not really. 

Your other boys, Gojo Satoru and Getou Suguru, showed up and showered tiny Touma with way too much praise and far too many gifts, but the little shit looked so pleased that Sukuna couldn’t get too annoyed. Shoko and Uraume came by, too, much to Sukuna’s surprise. Uraume brought with them a whole fucking confectionary cake they’d crafted themselves at home. Gojo obsessed over it and Getou tried to reign him in to no avail. 

And the night went on. No one talked shit, not unless it was in good fun, no one got fucking hammered, no one talked about work–it was all about the kids. Nothing else. No one else. 

Sukuna could never guess just how far that truth went.

When everyone left for the night, the alpha could start to see the edges of your smile fraying. But you held on, thanking everyone for the gifts and for showing up for Touma, and especially thanking Jin for offering to let all the little ones spend the night at his place (you and Toji would forever be in his debt). 

Then, when the door closed and all fell silent, he heard you cry. 

Sukuna didn't know what to do about people crying. He never had. Even when he was a kid, he had a hard time trying to comfort people with hugs and words of reassurance–he just couldn't do it. 

“It's okay,” he heard you whisper. “It's okay. It's okay. You're okay. It's okay. I'm okay.” 

Sukuna got up and leaned against the doorway to the kitchen. “Sure about that?”

You jumped and clasped a hand over your mouth to stifle your scream. Sukuna barked out an ugly, reedy laugh while he defended himself from your petty smacks and pinches. 

“You scared the fuck out of me–why're you still even here? Go home! Shoo!” You wiped your eyes once you were done harassing him and turned away, busying yourself with cleaning up dishes and wrapping paper left in the aftermath. 

Sukuna followed you idly, a shit-eating grin still plastered on his face. What could he say? He loved seeing you get all petty and riled up. But he didn't love seeing you cry. He didn't love seeing you try to stealthily wipe tears away, to try and steady your shaky breathing. 

“What’s going on with you, babe?” Sukuna asked as he settled beside you at the sink. 

“It's nothing,” you said with a snuffle. “It's seriously nothing. Sorry, I--you don't need to stay. Or anything.” You sighed and rubbed at your eyes with your sleeve. “You've done your fatherly duties. You're free to leave.” 

“Yeah? ‘N what about my baby daddy duties?” He wondered, voice so horribly low and comforting, like the buzzing crackle of a campfire. 

You laughed, watery and shaky. “You already did everything you needed to, Sukuna.” 

“Come on, don't cockblock me like that.” He gently tilted your Chin his way to catch your eyes just like he had back at the shop all those months ago. “Look at me.” 

You did. Your eyes were red and irritated, whatever pretty boy make up you wore was wiped off and smudged, and those heavy, dark bags met the light in front of someone else for the first time in a long time. 

You still had the gall to laugh it off and pull Sukuna's hand from your face with a small, “I'm fine,” though. 

“Then why the hell are you crying?” He asked. 

You squeezed his hand with both of yours. “Things are just…hard. Overwhelming.”

Sukuna nodded a bit. “That why Jin took the runts tonight?” 

“Yeah. Needed some time, I guess.” You snuffled and wiped your face with both hands before finishing up with cleaning. “Makes me sound like a shit parent, I know.” 

Sukuna couldn’t disagree more. “Least you're not flipping out on the kid. That'd be way shittier, yeah?” 

“I don't know. I guess, but–yeah. I don't know.” 

Sukuna sighed and scooped you up like a new bride. “You're driving me fucking mental.”

“Sukuna–!”

“Quiet.” Your omega indeed piped down at the grouchy command, and you shyly let the man carry you up the steps to find your bedroom. “You're getting some damn rest. You look like shit.” 

You grumbled something Sukuna elected to ignore in favour of tossing you onto a bed the way one might lob a stone into a pond. You landed with a warbled squawk and looked at Sukuna with horribly accusatory, baffled eyes. 

Sukuna quirked a brow as he looked down on you, gladly using his broad build and tall stature to secure your submission. And it worked; the aggravated spark in your eyes curled up and fell silent after a few long seconds. Your head lowered just the slightest bit, too, but your passive gaze remained stuck on him, waiting for his next move. 

“Fine,” you grumbled. 

Sukuna raised his brows and eased onto the bed, caging you underneath him with his solid frame. Your scent flickered with shy playfulness, and Sukuna relished in it. 

“How do I know you're gonna obey, omega?” 

“I guess you don't. Not for certain,” you admitted begrudgingly. 

“Tch. Someone's gotta keep you accountable then, huh?” He nosed at your neck, nearly letting his lips touch your neck but refusing to do so in the same instance. “Make sure you're doing the right thing, make sure you're behaving.” 

One of his hands squeezed at your soft thigh before inching up little by little. Your hands found themselves in his hair as he teased at your joggers’ waistband, pulling the elastic taut before letting it go. 

“Sukuna,” you laughed, sounding a little breathless. “I, uh–I thought you said–”

“Changed my mind.”

“But–”

“Forget what I said and let me make you cum on my fingers, brat.” 

Oh. Well, hard to argue against that. 

You swallowed but gave a meek nod. He ripped your bottoms off and felt up your blazing skin with rough, calloused hands, groping and grabbing in the same spots he liked back when you were hooking up: your thighs, your hip bones, the squish of your stomach. As much as the man harped on about not wanting “damaged goods,” he sure worshiped your body like it was brand new, untouched. 

Sukuna brought his fingers to your mouth, and you took them with utmost compliance. Your tongue worked against his digits thoughtfully and thoroughly for your own sake–a lack of starter lube wouldn't end well, after all. And Sukuna was not the most patient man in the sack.

“See?” Sukuna crowed into your ear as his hand traveled south and a finger sunk into you. “It's not so bad to just behave, now is it?” 

You already felt like you were about to explode, and Sukuna savoured It. He liked being the one to do this to you–the only one for a while, considering how tight and sensitive you were. Any little push or prod inside you brought sweet sighs and soft moans to the surface–and a second and third finger had your hips bucking and your nails digging into his shoulder and back as he finger-fucked you to oblivion while still caging you in. 

“Good omega,” he cooed. “Gonna cum already, huh? Tch, you shoulda said no one’s been taking care of you; I would’ve taken my parental responsibilities more seriously.” His lips and teeth landed on your neck, as you curled up into him, body tensing, heels digging into the mattress, panting and gasping getting louder and faster. The sound made his pants strain even more. 

“Fuck, you smell fucking good. Better than when I fucked you the first time.” 

“I-I forgot you talked so much in bed,” you managed out. “Could you just–shut up?”

Sukuna growled, and you whined. “You want me to shut up, huh? You wanna listen to your slick fucking hole getting spread open, plowed into? You miss me that much, omega?”

“No.” You hissed and clung to his upper arm as he somehow managed to take it up a notch, slipping his fourth finger in and spreading you obscenely wide. 

“I think you did. Think you were hopin’ I’d come around, plow you into the bed again, stuff you full like no one else can.” 

“Sukuna–”

“I’ll fill this hole up all you want, baby–I’ll even stuff another pup in you. Twins. You want that, huh? You gonna be my omega from now on? Creaming on my cock ‘n fingers the way you shoulda been the day you walked your perfect, little ass into my life?” 

“Shut up, shut up, shut up–” you choked on a gasp and bit into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with drool and shuddered mewls while your body tightened and ecstasy hit like the weight of Sukuna’s words–brutal, fast, honest. 

Sukuna moaned in sympathy, ignoring the way his hand and arm cramped and ached to keep pistoning into you and draw out your high. He couldn't help it–something about you drove him mad in that moment. It could have been how you made his ego swell, it might've been the way his greed needed your slick staining his and only his skin, perhaps it could have been a quiet yearning coming from his lonely, hollow alpha. He didn't know. But he didn't question it. 

Your body started to relax with the death grip you had on his shoulder as you came down from the sudden, electric high. Your hips still jolted with every slow, lazy push into your soft hole, though a haze of purring and cooing filled the spot where gasps and moans once did. Eventually, you melted off of him and collapsed onto your back, looking as content as a cat lounging in the sun. 

“Oi, oi, you're not done yet, sweetheart.” But if you said you were done, he might've listened. Just that once. 

You hummed something as you looked up at him, eyes doey and so egregiously lovey-dovey. 

“That's a nice face. Make sure you save it just for me,” Sukuna gently commanded, and you laughed. 

“Demanding. I thought you didn't like used goods.” 

Sukuna scowled. “Shut up.” His free hand traced the stripes of stretched skin left in the wake of bearing his baby boy. “I like ‘em when they're used by me.”

“Does that really make them ‘used goods,’ then?” You murmured as if speaking logic too loud would break Sukuna's entranced obsession of you. 

But maybe, maybe, you had a point. 

“Guess I'll have to think on that.” His fingers slipped out of you and he gave you a wet slap on the ass to wake you up. Your subsequent squeak sure as hell woke Sukuna up. 

“Ow. Gross.” 

“I'm not finished with you, brat. Don't get too fuckin’ content, yeah?” He smirked when you glanced at his crotch expectantly. “You want me to fuck you?”

“Please.”

Sukuna sighed and settled between your legs as he futzed with his belt and button. “Could put up a bit of a fight.” 

“Too tired.” You yawned and stretched with a pleased sigh. “No will to argue.” 

The alpha leaned down to bite at your knee, and you pulled your legs together to avoid his chunky, rude fangs. You knew he'd delight in making you bleed or leaving dark bruises. He was the worst. 

“Still got a little fight left in ya,” Sukuna said with a grin. “Let's see how much more we can find, hm?”

[rin-sith]

Finally, I am happy to present to you my ...

EPIC: THE MUSICAL | ACT I [Character Design project]

I have been working on these for a long time and I am very happy with how these turned out. I am a huge fan of visual character design and I simply needed to do a full lineup.

Act II will follow shortly (it is all done except for Ithaca Saga, which I will add as soon as it drops.) Please enjoy, and read below for some thoughts and background on some of my design choices!

TROY | CYCLOPS ft. Odysseus, Athena, Eurylochus, and Polites

With Odysseus, I really wanted to emphasize his free spirit in this era and mark him as Athena's warrior, so I gave him a special belt and some armbands that represent her (this was inspired by some of @mircsy's work). He also has heterochromia; his left eye is green, representing his cunning, wisdom, and spirit; his right eye is gray, representing his ruthlessness and warrior side.

I simply love Athena in purple/gold. Her mask is a symbol of her invulnerability and comes off only during "My Goodbye" when Odysseus tells her that she's alone. Her cape can also transform into wings, and her eyes are actually golden without the mask.

I had to give Eurylochus his large anime sword (it's just as heavy as it looks but he likes it that way because that means no one besides him is strong enough to wield it ... I imagine Eurylochus can bench press at least Odysseus' and Polites' weights combined. He and Polites are also wearing variants of Odysseus' armor, indicating that they belong to the same army.

Listen, I can vibe with Eurylochus' giant sword but I draw the line at Polites with glasses, sorry. He still gets the hairband, of course. He's also dressed more casually, and without a weapon, because of his pacifistic outlook. He's the physically weakest among the trio by far but also still an inch taller than Odysseus (it's fine, Odysseus is still like 5'10, his friends are just all so freaking tall...)

OCEAN ft. Aeolus, Poseidon, and Odysseus

Not gonna lie, I LOVED designing Aeolus' outfit. She's playful and mischievous and loves to hang out in the clouds all day; her outfit is probably made out of clouds let's be real. Also yes, her image on the windbag moves to make cheeky faces.

Poseidon I cannot imagine without tentacles anymore thanks to @gigizetz's "Ruthlessness", idk it just fits him so well. He definitely got all dressed up to go and sink Odysseus' fleet that day, he has a reputation, you know? And he just likes the shiny gold and accessories; the ocean is full of them so why wouldn't he?

Edit: I actually updated this design somewhat significantly; if you're interested in the current one, check here! He still has a tentacle/monster form, but it's not his only one.

Since breaking up with Athena, Odysseus lost her belt and armbands. He's still wearing her brooch because he couldn't bring himself to fully throw that away as well yet. Polites' hairband around his wrist reminds him of what he's fighting for and what to live by ... for now (Poseidon is about to ruin this man's whole career...)

CIRCE | UNDERWORLD ft. Circe, Hermes, and Tiresias

I wanted to give Circe the "witch" vibe while putting a Greek spin on it and I actually adore her design. She seems both immortally youthful (something I aim for with all my god designs) and motherly. There she was, gathering some herbs when a bunch of strangers crash onto her island ... Oh well, at least this man was a good man this time.

Hermes is kind of just Hermes. I wanted to keep him shaded, a bit impish, and definitely up to no good. He's wearing the contrasting colors on purpose, by the way. And yes, his hat can fly on its own ... But for it to do that he'd have to actually be willing to show his face which he seldom does unless he really trusts you.

Tiresias is a soul, so he has the same kind of ageless youth as all my gods (something that goes for souls of dead people too, since I like to think they get to appear at whatever age they want after death.) He's looking a bit regal since he's a prophet, so I imagine regarded highly, even in the Underworld. Instead of the blindfold, his hood covers his face, adorned with a symbolic eye to identify him and his skill.

***

Well, that's it for ACT I, friends, I hope you liked these! I will upload ACT II asap. Please comment and/or tell me your thoughts about my designs! And feel free to ask any questions you may have! I would love to talk more about these.

[enemiestolovershoe]

I just found your blog now and holy crap am I glad I did !!! Your JJ fics are seriously so AMAZING 🤩.

Could I pls request JJ x fem where she convinces her parents to let her boyfriend come with them on their annual lake house vacation, Her mom is a sweetie pie and instantly gives approval but her dad very reluctantly agrees hoping their relationship is a just a brief summer love fling because God forbid her daughter is in love with a pogue. He tries to break them up one night and she’s (reader) is not having it all… Angsty with some smut cause it’s JJ 😜 happy ending perhaps with him proposing to her as a nice touch🩵.

Somewhat inspired by the movie “Endless Love”

Tysm hope it’s not too long/confusing explanation 🫣.

Summer Heat

JJ Maybank x fem!reader

Summary: The request explains it.

Words: 1k

Warnings: some fighting between y/n and her dad.

A/N: I haven’t seen Endless Love but I read a few summaries and tried to capture what you were looking for. I didn’t include any smut bc I wasn’t in the mood to write it that day. I’m sorry about that, but I still hope you enjoy it! :)

The morning sun filtered through the blinds of your bedroom as you packed the last of your bags for the annual lake house vacation. You were practically buzzing with excitement, knowing that this year was different. For the first time, JJ Maybank—your boyfriend of the past year—would be joining you and your family.

You had spent weeks convincing your parents to let him come along. Your mom was on board from the beginning, always quick to support you and, in her words, “happy to meet the boy who makes my daughter glow.” Your dad, on the other hand, wasn’t as easily swayed. His protective nature amplified when it came to your relationship with JJ, whom he viewed as reckless and irresponsible—a “pogue,” in his words, who wasn’t good enough for you.

Despite his reluctance, you finally got him to agree after promising JJ would sleep in the guest cabin and be on his best behavior. But you knew that was only half the battle. You were determined to show your dad how wrong he was about JJ.

“Are you sure about this?” JJ asked as he carried your suitcase to the back of your car. His trademark smirk softened into a more nervous expression.

“Yes,” you said firmly, reaching up to cup his face. “I want you there with me. Don’t let my dad get in your head, okay?”

JJ exhaled and nodded. “Alright, but if he challenges me to a duel or something, you’re stepping in.”

You laughed, leaning up to kiss him briefly. “Deal.”

The lake house was as picturesque as ever, surrounded by towering pines and a crystal-clear lake that sparkled under the afternoon sun. Your mom greeted JJ with open arms the moment he stepped out of the car, pulling him into a hug and exclaiming, “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you, JJ! Y/N talks about you all the time.”

“Good things, I hope,” JJ said, his easy charm shining through.

“Of course, sweetie!” your mom said, giving you a knowing smile.

Your dad stood off to the side, arms crossed as he surveyed JJ with a critical eye. “Let’s get the bags inside,” he said gruffly, brushing past without offering a greeting.

JJ’s shoulders tensed, but he covered it with a grin directed at you. “Fun times already,” he muttered under his breath.

You sighed, silently vowing to make this trip work.

The first few days went smoothly. JJ fit in effortlessly with your mom, helping her cook dinner and making her laugh with his endless stories. He spent hours swimming and kayaking with you on the lake, his carefree energy infectious.

But your dad remained distant, watching JJ like a hawk and making snide comments whenever he got the chance. “So, JJ,” your dad said one evening during dinner. “What’s your plan for the future? Or do you just plan to drift through life?”

JJ set his fork down and met your dad’s gaze. “I’m working at the marina right now, saving up for a boat of my own. I’d like to start a charter business someday.”

Your dad raised an eyebrow. “A charter business? Sounds...ambitious.”

“Dad,” you interjected, your tone sharp.

“It’s alright, Y/N,” JJ said, squeezing your hand under the table. “It’s not easy, but I’m willing to put in the work. I’ve got goals, even if they don’t look like the ones you might expect.”

Your mom quickly changed the subject, but the tension lingered.

It all came to a head on the fourth night. You were sitting on the dock with JJ, your feet dangling in the water as the sun set. It was peaceful, just the two of you laughing and talking in the warm evening air.

But when you returned to the house, your dad was waiting in the living room. “Y/N, can I talk to you for a minute?” he said, his voice clipped.

JJ started to follow, but your dad held up a hand. “Alone.”

You exchanged a glance with JJ, who nodded reluctantly.

“What is it, Dad?” you asked once you were in the kitchen.

“I’ve been patient,” he began, pacing the room. “I’ve given JJ a chance, even though I don’t think he’s right for you. But this...this thing between you two—it’s a summer fling, Y/N. It’s not real.”

Your jaw dropped. “Not real? Are you serious? JJ and I have been together for a year.”

“He’s not good enough for you,” your dad said bluntly. “He doesn’t have a stable job or a secure future. What happens when this little romance fizzles out, and you’re left picking up the pieces?”

“Wow,” you said, your voice shaking with anger. “You don’t even know him, Dad. You’ve already decided he’s not worth anything because he doesn’t fit into your perfect little box.”

“I just want what’s best for you,” he said, his tone softening.

“No,” you snapped. “You want what you think is best for me. But guess what? I’m an adult. I get to choose who I love, and I choose JJ.”

Your dad’s face hardened. “You’re making a mistake.”

“Then it’s my mistake to make,” you said fiercely, tears stinging your eyes.

You turned on your heel and stormed out, finding JJ waiting on the porch. His expression was a mix of concern and determination. “I heard yelling. Are you okay?”

“Not really,” you admitted, throwing your arms around him. “But I don’t care what he says. I love you, JJ. I’m not letting him come between us.”

JJ pulled back to look at you, his blue eyes searching yours. “You mean that?”

“Of course I mean that,” you said.

He smiled, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a small box. “Because I was hoping you’d say that.”

Your heart skipped a beat as he dropped to one knee. “Y/N, I know this isn’t the most romantic timing, but I’ve been carrying this around for weeks, waiting for the right moment. I love you more than anything, and I want to spend the rest of my life with you. Will you marry me?”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you nodded. “Yes! A thousand times yes!”

JJ slipped the ring onto your finger and stood, pulling you into a deep kiss.

Inside the house, your mom was watching through the window, a wide smile on her face. Your dad stood behind her, his expression unreadable. But for the first time, he didn’t say a word.

A/N: This will be my last JJ fic for a while. I’m just not feeling the same connection to him and Rafe as I used to. I’m sorry, and I hope you understand.

Taglist: @courta13

[sketch-shepherd-art]

So I’ve been getting a lot of inspiration from Discord so here’s an AU + rewrite for Brother Bear 2, a Disney sequel that (possible unpopular opinion) I’m not a fan of. So I’ve come up with a rewrite that fits the themes of the first movie more

First off I completely removed the childhood friends story between Nita and Kenai, because in this AU Nita and Atka are bears. Yes, born as bears (I still hate how Brother Bear 2 completely undid Kenai’s meaningful karmic transformation and made it so that characters can just transform if they ask the spirits nicely enough), and are siblings instead of an engaged couple. 

My bear version of Atka somewhat mirrors Kenai’s arc from the first movie where he hates humans for killing their bear friends. Atka’s increasing anger and resentment eventually drove a wedge between his and Nita’s siblinghood, and it only got worse when Atka decided to abandon Nita for a revenge quest to slaughter humans. 

This is where Kenai and Koda come in. With Kenai now acting as sort of a bridge between humans and animals after living as both forms, he goes on a journey to help Nita find Atka and restore her relationship with her brother, and in turn Kenai and Nita grow closer and gain feelings for each other. And meanwhile of course Koda is happy to have an older sister in law

[perseephoneee]

kinktober 5 (rebekah mikaelson x f!reader)

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist ↳ kinktober masterlist

content warnings: oral (f. receiving), blood drinking, slightly inexperienced reader, willa's has yet to have gay sex :(

a/n: happy halloween! life has been tough for me so tonight you get FOUR mikaelson imagines as i'm literally in the process of writing them. all of these are inspired by this post by @moremaybank

The first time you saw Rebekah Mikaelson, you thought she might be lost.

That was the only reasonable explanation for why this tall, blonde, gorgeous girl would possibly be at Mystic Falls High School. She walked into your history class on the first day after winter break, her heels clicking on the tiled ground, and you couldn't take your eyes off her. Not that she ever noticed you, not for a while. Not until several months later when she dropped her bag on your table at the local coffee shop and sat down across from you.

"I'm told that you're the best in Chemistry, and apparently, I'm failing the class," Rebekah sighed, leaning back in the seat. "Perhaps you can give me a hand?"

You stared at her blankly. "I didn't even realize you were in my Chemistry class."

"Yes, I never attend, probably why I'm failing," she shrugged. For someone about to potentially flunk, she was distinctly nonchalant. "So, can you help me or not?"

You closed your laptop, pushing it to the side to look at her. Offhandedly, you wondered what shade of lipgloss she was wearing. "No offense, but you don't seem like the type to care about studying."

"I don't," Rebekah pursed her lips. "But… I don't like being perceived as unintelligent either."

"I… don't think you're unintelligent."

"You hardly know me," Rebekah crossed her arms, leaning forward on the table.

"No, but maybe I'll get to know you."

That's how you entered a tenuous friendship with Rebekah Mikaelson. It wasn't till later that you realized you yearned for more. All the times you'd look at her lips or long to have her laugh at something you said were all indicators that maybe you cared more than you let on. But she was a vampire; you were a stupid human, and nothing would ever happen.

The Saturday before Halloween involved a large party at the Lockwood house. You rarely ever attended events like these, but one of your friends convinced you to go, so you decided to throw caution to the wind and attend. You had thrown together a Red Riding Hood costume, finding a red dress and cloak in your attic that you paired with combat boots. It wasn't anything spectacular, but you felt somewhat cute. Unfortunately, the party ended up being a bust, especially when your friend left almost immediately because her crush showed up. So, instead of dancing like you planned to, you were sitting on a couch nursing a drink you were too nervous to have, watching other people have much more fun than you.

"I'm shocked to see you here." You turned, seeing Rebekah had come to stand right next to the couch. She was dressed in all white, with fuzzy wings and a halo. Her lips quirked in a smile at your admiration.

"I was kinda dragged along," you shrugged.

"Have you danced yet?"

"With who?" you scoffed, tapping your fingers against the cup.

"Now that, we'll have to fix," Rebekah smirked, taking the cup from your hands and setting it aside as she pulled you to your feet. She was taller than you with her heels, and you felt like you were staring into the heavens when you looked at her. She pulled you towards where a group of teenagers were dancing, a Bluetooth speaker acting as a DJ. Rebekah fit in easily, her movements fluid. You were too insecure to do anything but sway slightly. The blonde was having none of that though, and she pulled you closer, hands on your waist. "Just follow me," she whispered in your ear, taking your hand and twirling you. You let her move you, feeling your heart rate skyrocket as she held your waist or wrapped her arms around your neck. It was easy to get lost in Rebekah, the angel sent from Hell.

The lights were so dim that you only saw faces when the LEDs allowed you to. Still, you could make out Rebekah with no issue. You hoped the darkness would hide any hint of nervousness, but you were a fool to think Rebekah didn't know you better. You were basically flush against her at this point, and she cupped your face, brushing her thumb over your cheekbone. You felt your breath hitch in your throat as she smiled, leaning in and kissing you.

You felt your brain short circuit, not remembering how to act like a person until you felt her other hand moving across your hip and lower back, putting feeling back into you. You kissed her back, moaning as she deepened the kiss. You weren't the only couple making out on the dance floor, but Rebekah was the only one that mattered to you. She pulled away, pupils dilated as she brushed her thumb over your lips. "Let's go," she murmured, taking your hand and escorting you away.

You had no idea where she was leading you, but you didn't care. She ushered you into the first open space, one of the many bathrooms, and locked the door behind her. Your heart was doing somersaults as she turned back to face you, beckoning you with a crooked finger. You didn't need any pushing as you surged forward, kissing her again. She held you closer than anyone ever had, and you let your fingers run through her silky hair, softer than you could've imagined. Your fingers brushed over the top part of her dress, desperate to feel the soft skin underneath. Rebekah reached behind, unzipping her dress and kicking it off in one fell swoop. Of course she was wearing pretty white lingerie with it, why wouldn't she. You kissed her collarbone, enjoying the sounds you were pulling out of her.

"Bex," you whispered. "Can I taste you?" you asked hesitantly. She nodded, and you sank to your knees, kissing over the tops of her thighs. She leaned against the door as you pulled her panties down. You hadn't actually done this before, but you were desperate to make her feel like how she made you feel. You licked hesitantly, and when her body trembled under your touch, you continued with more confidence. Your hands held her thighs as you lost yourself in her. When she came, you took every bit of it like it was your last meal. Her fingers tangled in your hair, pulling your head back. "Was that okay?"

"Darling, you were stunning," Rebekah breathed, pulling you to your feet and kissing you with a new intensity. She pushed you against the bathroom counter, pulling your dress over your head. You wished you could've spent more time on your undergarments, but Rebekah didn't care. She thought you were beautiful either way. She kissed over the tops of your breasts, her hand dipping into your panties and rubbing over your clit. You moaned, gripping the counter like your life depended on it as she expertly pulled you closer and closer to your end. She bit your breasts right as she pushed in a finger, the sensations causing you to yelp. She chuckled, licking the blood that beaded up on your chest. You never thought you'd be into blood drinking, but you found yourself aroused. The things you discover when you're with a vampire. "Do you trust me?" Rebekah asked, kissing you on the lips.

"Yes," you sighed with no hesitation. She smirked, kissing you again before going back to your chest. She bit down on the tops of your breasts right as her palm applied pressure to your clit, and she added a second finger. The sensation of her drinking from you and finding every ounce of you that was desperate for her touch was enough to send you over the edge. You cried out her name as you came, and she eased you through it. She licked her fingers clean when you relaxed. Her thumb brushed over the blood on your chest, licking that clean as well.

"Bex?" you asked. "Yes, love?" "Would you be my girlfriend?" She grinned, brushing your hair away from your face. "I thought you'd never ask."

[ryuichirou]

RE: Ortho (+Shroudcest) post replies

Phew, alright, I think I didn’t skip anyone. If I did, I’m sorry, I’ll reply to you next time then!

Thank you so much for your wonderful messages of support and for your takes. I really appreciate it! I say it all the time but it saying it again feels appropriate: we had no idea we would ever see so many people who share our point of view despite not shipping Ortho with Idia or any other character. The fact that we can have this conversation really makes me happy.

You are welcome to share more of your thoughts if you want, but unfortunately I might not be able to reply to everyone. I will do my best though.

All of the asks in this blog are related to this post.

Anonymous asked:

Different anon, I think Ortho is in this nebulous situation like superboy in young justice who is physically 16 years old but chronologically 16 weeks old. I genuinely hate the uwu babying of characters. The dwarfs are all second years(so theoretically 17 at the youngest) but no one makes anything with them. Heck the characters I see get lewded the most are the octo trio who are the same age.

Heck, even Grim gets the baby mascot treatment by fans when he's also lumpedwiththefirst years. Like yes, he's a whiny brat but he's also grown up all alone as far as he can remember. I can't help but compare him to Puppycat who acts similarly and is a grown ass man.

Yeah, this probably plays a role too! Ironically, we were just having this conversation about Stitch the other day lol Being new to the world you exist in (and to existing in general) and being a baby aren’t necessarily the same thing.

And even in that case Ortho doesn’t fully fit into the trope because he was created quite a while ago and is already pretty well adjusted. But since he is still learning and doesn’t always understand people + doesn’t always get things like sarcasm, people consider it to be a proof that he is a toddler lol Who am I kidding, their reasoning doesn’t even go that far. They say “he died when he was a baby therefore he is a baby forever” and call it a day.

I feel bad for people who love Grim, I haven’t even thought about it… The Puppycat comparison is so spot-on lol

Grim is inexperienced and doesn’t know much about the world, but yes, he is one of the freshmen + just as he at times acts like a whiny brat, there are also times when he tells Ace that he should be more considerate of Deuce’s feelings, like wtf was that? That was Grim. Because Grim also isn’t a baby, he is a furry gremlin…

Anonymous asked:

As one of the most avid Ortho stans, it really is a pet peeve that people act like he's a little kid

You're so right that it's people that want to write him like Idia's little convenient plot device

I do want to note that it's also sometimes just the infantilization of an autistic coded character

God forbid he be somewhat optimistic, this must mean he's just an innocent baby /s

One small thing that gets me: Ortho can and has made his own gears!! Idia doesn't need to and maybe this is inspired by a post I saw that used the fact that Idia has made his stuff to take away Ortho's agency in what is supposed to be him having a tattoo analog. Not having a character be the architect of their own body mod equivalent is wild and I just.

He's a silly little guy, but he's not a fucking baby!

Indeed, Anon. I feel like people either completely ignore Ortho or see him as Idia’s appendix. I absolutely love them together, and of course I am biased towards scenarios that focus on their deep codependence, but I also really love how they get to have their own adventures, their own relationship, their own experiences separate from each other. Because they are wow, different characters, and Ortho has his own agency. He had it even before ch6, but after that he fully and officially became his own person. Being with Idia is his choice, not his only option. And just like you mentioned, he makes his own gears pretty much all the time now… even though I don’t agree that Idia making his gears has anything to do with Ortho’s agency.

I don’t even think Ortho is that optimistic. He is a little sunshine, but not even close to people like Kalim for example. Ortho even has his own cynical moments and douchy moments that people also tend to ignore. But even if he was 100% optimistic and naïve, it still would not be a valid reason to infantilise him. And you are absolutely right, people do that a lot. With Kalim too, actually, now that I think about it.

Anonymous asked:

Aaaaah, Ryuichi, after reading your post (rant) about Ortho, made me very happy! I'm glad there's someone else who shares the same opinion. The number of fans who infantilizes Ortho is beyond me. I absolutely hate the argument Ortho's mentally "8 years old" it's like they completely forget his storyline.

I'm guessing that the people who genuinely believe the theory that he's "8 years old" are younger fans with no media literacy so no hate towards them but it's frustrating when fans pretend it's Canon when it's not.

Not only that but it’s so sad to see how he's also so mischaracterized by the fandom. He's always seen just as Idia's little brother but never himself despite the fact that Ortho's life doesn't revolve around Idia. He has his own interest and hobbies different from Idia AND he is NOT innocent! Fans tend to forget this is a game about a school full of villains and that includes Ortho too! If I remember correctly Ortho has multiple times tried to blow up the school with his laser! He's violent! He's not a kid.

Unfortunately, I've seen this kind of stuff happening across all fandoms this isn't exclusive to Twisted wonderland. Heck a few months ago I've seen fans in the black butler genuinely believe that Ciel's in fact 9 years old instead of 13 year old!? And then they call us weird? The SebaCiel shippers? Like why do YOU want him to be younger?? I'm getting too old for this.

Thank you so much, Anon! I am happy you also agree.

I don’t hate younger fans, and I know that some people might be genuinely confused; but I also believe that there are a lot of people that simply do not care about Ortho’s actual story and any arguments one could make about this case. The actual issue isn’t Ortho being a certain age, it’s a pretext, an excuse, an invitation to harass. If Ortho didn’t exist, they would still do it with other characters, and even if all the characters were adults, they would still find a reason to do so, like, for example, their appearance. There is no winning in this game, this is why factual arguments won’t work even if Ortho Shroud himself looks in the camera and says “hi, I don’t care if people ship me with my niisan, I am also in fact not 8 years old”.

I am also very glad you mentioned Ortho being his own person! I mentioned it in a previous reply, so I won’t talk about it, but yes, you are absolutely right. Ortho is a menace, and all of his disappointed “come ooon, niisan, don’t do that” moments come from his desire for Idia to have more friends, not because he genuinely cares for other people. He clearly doesn’t – hence his multiple attempts to blow up the school lol

I love it when characters just keep getting younger with every single wave of this shitstorm. Didn’t you know he is 13? How dare you post something like that about a 9 years old! He is a toddler who is only 3 months old! That’s one powerful fountain of youth right there. Antis in Kuroshitsuji fandom do that a lot, just as antis in TWST fandom.

Anonymous asked:

I really feel bad for people who have Ortho as their oshi. It's not like fans of other characters don't get shit on too, apparently pretty much everyone is an immoral heathen these days, but I feel like Ortho gets often excluded in fan content, especially when it features any mature theme.

Also, if you a problem with people liking Ortho in the same way as they do with the rest of the guys, you should take your issues to the creators, since that was definitely their intention when they put him in the pretty boy gacha. Or maybe just play another game.

Anyway Ryu and Katsu, keep doing your thing, cause you guys are awesome!

What I love about it is that Ortho himself would be so pissed if he learned that all the other guys get to do fun mature stuff and he doesn’t lol That’s so not fair, he’s charging his lasers as we speak!

Also yes, it was absolutely the creators’ intention. He is supposed to look like that, just like Lilia is supposed to look like that – both caused confusion in the game story with how young they look, and yet both are a big part of the cast (+ As we know, even Idia was supposed to be younger looking…). Ortho has one of the biggest amounts of cards, he is clearly a popular character, not just a lovely addition or a mascot. 

Thank you so much for your support, Anon <3 It means a lot. This shit might be upsetting, but it will never stop us from creating.

Anonymous asked:

While I am not an Ortho/Idia shipper, I do like your art pieces because your art style is straight-up gorgeous. So when I do see your Shroudcest art Im like: not my cup of tea but I respect the time and effort made into this. (And here is my rant siding with you bc they are fictional characters)

The babyfication of Ortho is something I do not understand. As much as Idia made RoBro in trauma, rn I doubt he wants RoBro to remain stagnant in mind and hardware. With Ortho's ability to learn, he is practically a teenager like the rest. He displays more emotional maturity than most ppl despite his killer laser beam. Kindness, hope, and optimism are traits not limited to children. Shortness is also not limited to children. If we treat other characters by traits often shared by children, then Neige's fellow dwarf classmates are also children. What they don't count bc they are not human? Ortho is not human either. Similarly, Kalim and Silver display positive internal traits of kindness, hope, and optimism. Shortness? Well, we got Grandpa Lilia and the Napoleon complex twins Riddle and Epel. They are all teenagers (minus Lilia) and no one is babying them.

...And are we ignoring all the shit he has seen on the internet. The amount of porn (from adult sites and even the soft-core types you can even find by watching some twitch/yt streamers) that can be seen. Videos of violence, crimes, and ppl doing their best to win the Darwainism Award. Ortho could access and go through like 5 terebytes by the time I reach page two of Google.

As for the Shroudcest, they are fictional characters! You can go straight to phub and have incest type (the sheer amount of the step family porn troupe) porn being acted out by actual breathing people. Do you want to metaphorically die on this hill of ppl shipping fictional 2D characters? Are we just going to ignore you targeting this harmless ship? At least go for a larger target like Game of Thrones or House of Dragons. So much incest in those media that it has it's own fan wiki page, but you don't see ppl go for George R. R. Martin's throat for writing about characters willing or unknowingly committing incest.

It is like people reading/watching media of horror movie killers. It's something you can enjoy or have a preference for because you, as a sane person, will not become a serial killer. AND, as a productive member of society, you condemn actual, real-life serial killers. You read horror stories or watch scary movies for entertainment value not for a guide to be one. Similar logic to furries. Furries consider anthropomorphic creatures as hot, but those same furries are against beastilaity.

TL;DR: While I am not personally a fan of incest or shota type of media, I do not mind they exist (or go after creators who use FICTIONALLY characters to enhance their form of FICTIONAL media), bc they are FICTIONAL CHARACTERS from a FICTIONAL MEDIA. Stop with the performative activism. Use that effort and go after people who do it for real in real life. If you prevent/stop an actual crime from happening, I will applaud and thank you! AND I DOUBT I WILL BE THE ONLY ONE.

Thank you so much, Anon! I am happy that you like my stuff despite not shipping some of our ships. I am very grateful for the respect, and also for your message! I really like your points and I’ll go through them briefly.

The entire part about all those traits not being exclusive to children + about other characters having those traits but still not being babied – YES, thank you so much for that. Like I already mentioned, the game clearly plays with those tropes, and even though the characters are young-looking, they are still of high school age (other than Lilia). Ortho is weird, Ortho is different from some of the other boys, but all of them are weird in their own way, Ortho is just a robot. If we can make “not a human” excuse for the dwarves, why can’t we look at Ortho that way? And yes, Ortho absolutely knows stuff a kid wouldn’t be able to digest lol All of his difficulties come from him being an AI – he doesn’t always get sarcasm, he doesn’t fully understand why people do certain things and doesn’t understand some limitations of human’s body and mind; none of it is tied to him being childish or too innocent.

Incest in media is very popular indeed, and it’s SUPER popular in porn! You are right. If any kind of media ends up “normalising” this kind of relationship, it definitely won’t be shippers of incest. But also that won’t happen because wow, it doesn’t work that way. People love to say that fiction affects reality, and while in a way it does, it’s never a “everyone is going to start shooting people because the videogames brainwashed them” type of deal, and this is exactly what they’re doing with their arguments. It’s fear-mongering, moralism and ignoring the fact that people do in fact know how to separate fiction from reality. And the key to making sure no one is going to jump out the window because their favourite character did so isn’t in censorship, but in people learning this difference and always keeping in it mind. Ironically, that would mean that people who harass others over cartoons can’t make this separation very well because of their lack of critical consumption of media; but then again, they can’t even see (and don’t care, which makes it worse and my point stronger) how their own reckless actions seriously affect real people in real life, and I think this is a more important issue to resolve lol

Unfortunately, people who prefer performative activism very rarely end up becoming real activists, but I do hope that they will at least find some other hobby, something that doesn’t cause so much harm to both innocent people and the cause they claim to be fighting for.

I got a bit carried away there, but yeah, I totally agree with your point, and once again grateful for your understanding. There will always be media that makes you uncomfortable – and that’s the beauty of it. Creativity is a boundless ocean and no amount of bricks can contain it.

Anonymous asked:

I was just scrolling through and saw your explanation of ortho and shroudcest the other day. As tiring as I’m sure it is, it always gives me hope to see people who remember what shipping is really about. I mean problematic content has existed all through human mythos and history, and society still survives! According to the studies the “art morality” argument is roughly the same as “but da violent games!!” Argument, or metal music, or clothes, or any other form of media deemed ‘new’ or ‘too different’.

Anyway, I don’t ship cest stuff myself but your art is lovely and it’s become one of the things I can view without feeling uncomfy despite how my head usually responds to such content (woohoo free therapy??? /j)

I ship ortho with an OC who’s also 16. Said oc’s mother said she would never treat her child differently for who they choose to love, and while she definitely wasn’t expecting a robot, she’s not going back on her word.

Thank you so much, Anon!! YES, this is exactly what shipping is all about! It feels like “umm but they’re not even canon” type of people are suddenly the majority in fandom spaces ahhh lol

As long as art exists, there will always be people who are against it, especially if it’s something niche, and despite how popular fandoms are, all of the fandom activity is a niche, ESPECIALLY shipping, ESPECIALLY this kind of shipping. So unfortunately it’s unavoidable, but it’s so useless and annoying!

I am very happy that you like our stuff. Thank you for enjoying it. Your OC’s mother is amazing and very supportive lol I am sure she and Ortho will get along swimmingly.

[linksthoughtbrambles]

The Seeds of Love, Well Worn

A gift for @newtsnaturethings for Midna's Merry Mixup! I'm sorry this is so late!!! I am officially saying Newt is also a coauthor of this fic because it is based on a very old, very silly conversation we had that was so much fun! This fic was also inspired by "The Calamity of Link's Cargo Shorts" by @zeldaseyebrows! It is excellent and should be read!! A big thank-you to @bellecream for beta-reading! This fic is also available to read here on ao3. Post-TotK Zelink, Canon-Compliant, Rated T, ~9,400 words

At first, Zelda thought nothing of it.  After all, Link was entitled to some eccentricities.  He couldn’t be the legendary hero if he were ordinary, could he?

Certainly, his renewed desire to play hide-and-seek with the koroks struck her as odd.

And yes, his sudden willingness to spend time away from her also seemed odd, especially as he’d clung to her so fervently since her fall from the sky—why insist on leaving her behind now?

Perhaps he wished to give her uninterrupted time to pursue her studies.  She’d shooed him from her well and atrium often enough, though always with a smile.  And yes, she’d been busy with concerns in all corners of Hyrule, leaving her less time to attend to her new garden, and she’d been frustrated with her efforts to populate the lovely pond Link had built into their plateau—had she been short with him?  Had she seemed distant?  Perhaps she’d hurt his feelings.

“I apologize sincerely, Link,” she blurted that night over dinner.

He blinked at her, all blue-eyed owl.  “Huh?”

Apparently not.

His spectacular grin an hour later as he tossed her on their new bed confirmed it.

Definitely not.

--

Her concern grew as Link traveled further and further afield.

“Link- must you find them all?” she asked.  “Surely that’s unnecessary.”

“I need more Korok seeds,” he said.

Her eyes flew wide.  “S- eeds?”

“Yeah!”

“Ah.  And… how many of these have you collected?”

Link shrugged and jammed his hand in his korok pouch.  It emerged overflowing with tiny, golden nuggets.  A few fell to the floor as the distinctive scent invaded Zelda’s nostrils.

“Link-“

He deposited them on the table-

“Link-”

-and reached back in, his fist again brimming with the deceptive little pellets.  Zelda’s nose wrinkled as she waved her open palms in the direction of his belt.

“Link, this is our dining table!”

“So?”

“What are you doing?”

“Don’t you want to count them?”

“Well- not here.”

Link blinked at her.  “Why not?”

She stared at her erstwhile knight, helpless to shut her jaw.

He didn’t know, did he?

She supposed it had never come up.

To be fair, they did look somewhat like seeds.

“How many fistfuls of these would you estimate you have in there?” she asked quietly.

“Oh, fistfuls?  Maybe…” he scratched the back of his head with a squint toward the ceiling.  “Maybe about twenty?”

Zelda blanched.  “And… that’s not enough.”

He snorted.  “Noooooo.”

His obsession struck her all the more strangely.

--

Link would stop at nothing.  In short… he would create a mountain out of a molehill, right there on their dining room table, a tribute fit only for a king.

Or so Link seemed to believe.

She began to wonder if he was unwell.

The Rasitakiwak Shrine activated up the hill just before sunset.  Link bounded into her garden at an unreasonable pace.

“Hahaaa!” he kissed her cheek with an intentionally long, wet smack and a shoulder-squeeze.

Zelda couldn’t help but giggle.  “Link!”  She then wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his shoulder.  “I’m glad you’re home.”

“Me too,” he said.  “I got sixteen today.”

Zelda’s smile became quizzical as she wondered if he’d washed his hands.

--

“I’ll be on Hebra peak all day!” Link announced with a sideways smile and two fists proud on his hips.

Zelda tried to appear as though she were not at all worried, and that she was, in fact, happy for him to be so excited about visiting an incredibly dangerous high-altitude frozen wasteland on a whim.  “The peak, specifically?” she asked, voice bright, though the slight curl of her lip may have given her away.

“My korok sense is tingling,” he said.

Zelda’s cheek twitched.  “I wasn’t aware you had one.”

Link pulled a leaf-shaped mask from his pouch and donned it with a ya-ha-ha.  It explained nothing.

She clasped her hands before her with a deep breath.  “Will you allow me to accompany you this time?”

“Nope!”

She sighed.  “Why ever not?”

“You have things to do!  I know you want to-“ he began to count on his fingers- “jam a Zonai charge in that guardian-claw-contraption with Robbie, zip to Lookout Landing and see if Purah’s gotten any Zonai abilities working with the purah pads, weed and water your garden, do your measuring and extracting stuff there, see if any of those frogs you caught are still anywhere near our pond, go to Hateno and check how our critters are doing there, check in with Symin about the school… I mean- you have a lot going on.”

Zelda shook her head.  “You’re not wrong, Link, but perhaps you might stay with me today?  Can the koroks wait until tomorrow?”

He hesitated.  He removed the mask to scratch his nose.  “Well- I mean, will they still be there?  Yeah! They’re shockingly dedicated to their game, which… is weird considering Hestu stopped playing with them seven years ago.”  Link squinted, his eyes defocusing a bit.  Zelda kept her laugh silent—a mere flurry of quivers of her diaphragm.

“Huh,” Link finally said, shaking his head, his eyes forcibly wide.  “That is really weird, isn’t it?  But… I kind of have to hurry.  Even if the koroks are… insane.  Or messing with me.”

That struck Zelda as disturbingly likely.

Link nodded, apparently resolute despite his targets’ nebulous motivations.  “I should go today.”

She couldn’t help her falling face.

“Aw,” he said.  He stuffed the mask back in his pouch, took her in his arms, and curled himself around her, pressing a kiss to her hair.  “You miss me?”

“Yes,” she said, a little sheepish.

He held her tighter.

Then he bear-hugged her.

“Heh- Link!” she smiled, pushing at him playfully.

“It’ll be worth it,” he said.  “Really.  Please trust me?  I promise there’s a good reason.”

“Can you tell me?” she asked.

He loosened his hold and kissed her forehead with the softness of a cloud.  “If I could, I would.”

She studied his eyes a long moment.

He certainly appeared to be his usual self.  His eyes sparkled with mischief, with his ever-present love for her, and with that shadow she’d seen in him ever since she’d fallen into the depths, whisked into another time.

The shadow- it worried her, kept her worrying beyond what would otherwise be reasonable.  He’d never been the same.

She could even feel it in the cadence of his breath—shortened without apparent cause, always a twinge on the end of each, a restlessness in his fingers as he held her.  They just kept moving, even when his hands were still.

Why this would drive him to scour the countryside for korok droppings, she didn’t know.

She ought to enlighten him about that at some point.

--

It ended on an unremarkable day in late spring, as suddenly as it began.

Zelda had no explanation.

Link said nothing of it.

His korok-seed fever simply ceased.

She wondered if someone else had revealed their nature to him.

He spent two entire days never leaving her side.  The most accurate word she could think of to describe his mood was ‘barnacle.’

Zelda-barnacle.  Yes, that was it, she thought as she clipped a sample off one of her more mature sundelions, his chin on her shoulder, his nose in her hair, his eyes on her work, and both his arms wrapped securely about her middle.  Even his legs were flush to hers a good measure of the way down.

That night, the sound of the shrine’s transport platform reached her in her sleep.  She opened her eyes to find Link gone, his place in bed beside her cold.  She heard him enter the house soon afterward.

He returned to bed and wrapped his arms around her as though he’d never gone.

“Where were you?” she asked quietly.

He kissed the crown of her head.  “Kakariko.”

“Why?”

He chuckled.  “Can’t tell you.”

--

He made several more clandestine journeys, each time unsuccessful in the sense Zelda knew he’d gone.  He always returned to bed, and she always asked where he’d been.

“Kakariko.”

“Kakariko.”

“Hateno.”

“Hateno.”

“The korok forest.”

That one made her sit up.  “Oh?!”

He laughed.

She squinted down at him, his bare stomach shaking with mirth.

She squinted hard.  “So many koroks…” she said.

“Hm.  True,” he answered, mock-seriously.

“…Are you collecting seeds again?”

“Nah.”

She eyed him suspiciously.

Then she tackled his abdomen, tickling hard with all ten fingers.

It hadn’t been wise, truly.  He overpowered and tickled her easily, his utter lack of mercy keeping her breathless for the following five minutes.

She learned nothing more from him that night—and he made no more secret journeys after that, as far as she could tell.

--

The summer solstice arrived.

Zelda opened her eyes to the sight of Link’s lovestruck gaze, the dimple deep in his left cheek.  He pushed her hair behind her ear.  “Happy Birthday,” he said softly.

His first gift to her arrived immediately, with no need even to leave their bed.

The second waited, a centerpiece on the dining table: a large box tied with a wide, royal blue bow, every bit as obvious as Link’s excitement for her to open it.  He’d adopted barnacle-stance once again, using his legs to walk hers toward the table.

She laughed, shifting off-balance as the odd gait forcibly waddled her.  He stopped them directly in front of the box, though he didn’t let go.

“I take it you’d like me to open this before breakfast.”

“Yes please,” he said, his laugh higher than normal, burying his eyes in the nape of her neck.  “I’ve been keeping it secret soooooooo long.”

She chuckled, her arms and hands covering his, warm, around her waist.  “My poor knight,” she said, a habit from days long gone.

He hummed a breath into her, nuzzling her nape and ending with as much of his face as he could tuck into her hair as possible.

She patted his arms and tilted forward.  He slid his hands to her waist and leaned around her, watching.

The ribbon fell open easily.  She lifted the top off the box and folded back the protective paper to see- “Pants?”

“Take them out!” Link urged.

She lifted them by the waistband.  Her head cocked in confusion as they unfolded.

“Shorts!” she said, amazed at the array of large pockets all over them.  They were otherwise simple, black, as though to replace her riding pants.  Their shorter length would be welcome in summer, and she absolutely could do with pockets.  The pouch at her hip wasn’t enough, though Link, of course, would allow her to put anything she wished in his.

“Look inside,” Link whispered, bouncing a little on his toes.

Zelda gave him an amused look.  She then held the waistband open and peered downward.  As predicted, she saw black fabric.  She also saw her own feet on the floor through the leg holes.

“No, no no no no,” Link said.  “Look in the pockets.”

“Ah,” she said.  Thinking he’d secreted something within one for her, she slipped one strap from its loop, lifted the flap, and rummaged inside.

“Goodness,” she said.  “This pocket is quite deep.”

Link produced a snigger.

She eyed him suspiciously once more as she slid her arm further and further into the pocket… still contacting nothing.   She withdrew, confused.

“I-“ she lifted the garment above her head.  Then she examined the pocket’s outer seam.  She pressed her hands on either side of it.  It appeared to be utterly ordinary – larger than her hand, certainly, but…

She shook her head and inserted her hand once more.  She watched, fascinated, as more and more of her arm disappeared into it, until the pocket’s edge reached her shoulder.   She wrapped her other arm around it to feel where her arm had gone inside the cloth.

The answer, it turned out, was nowhere.  The fabric pressed flat to her torso.

She gasped, a slow smile spreading across her face as she turned to see one of the biggest grins Link had ever given her.

“It’s like your pouch!” she cried.

“YA HA HA!” Link yelled as she tackled him. “Oof-“

“Oh my goodness- oh- Link- Link think of what I could do with this!”

“I did,” he chuckled.

“Are all the pockets this way?”

He nodded; then he looked up and to the left for a moment, a half-squint on.  “Well- yeah they’re all enchanted, but it’s not quiiiite the same.”

“Oh?”

“I had- requests for these pockets.  Special ones.”

“Such as?”

“Well…” He opened a larger pocket lower down.  “Check this out!”

She did.

And she gasped.

She was peering into a space, perhaps the size of the main room of their new house, with a lush, grassy floor, a medium-sized dogwood tree, and a pond.

With lily pads.

She stared.

She stared more.

She goggled at Link, dully noting his arms supporting her, his eyes positively twinkling.

“is this…. for… frogs?” she asked, her tongue extremely dry.

“Well,” he said waggling his head.  “It doesn’t have to be. But I thought-“

She kissed him.

--

Link examined his work as a myriad of frogs hopped, croaked, and plain-old-chilled out around him, quite proud of himself.   The ruby rod was definitely staying put—and unlike one of the old flame blades (damn, he missed those), it wasn’t going to cook every frog that touched it. “I think I got it!” he yelled.

The sound of cloth-on-cloth preceded Zelda’s face appearing in what seemed to be a slit on a dark wall about even with Link’s head.

“Oh!” Zelda said.  “You’ve embedded it!”

“I figured it’d work best if it was actually in the water,” he said, trying but failing to see any steam visibly rising from the little pond’s surface.

“Indeed!”

Link wondered if there’d be clouds—like rain—or if droplets would just condense on that nebulous, sky-blue ceiling above.  Verrrrrry slowly.

“I’m still concerned about the lack of sunlight,” Zelda said.

Link smiled, pulling his eyes from the unsky to make his way toward her.  He stuck his face right up to the opening.  “It’s magic, Zelda.  Don’t worry too much.  It was like this in the sword-trials.”

“It’s unclear whether those were physically real, Link.”

 “True, but there were loads of plants inside the Zonai shrines.”

“Hmm.  There still are,” she said.  “I suppose that suggests whatever the light source is, it’s sufficient for them.”

“Yup.  So don’t worry.”  He pointed up.  “I bet it’s sky blue up there for a reason.”

She huffed a laugh.  “I suppose I agree with you, for my instinct is not to take that bet.”

Link raised his chin, proud of himself for the third time that day.  “Nice!  So… is it testing time?”

“If you’re ready, Link, then certainly.  I shall be gentle, but I suspect the fact the pond has remained intact means this will be entirely uneventful.”

The sound of shuffling cloth accompanied the strange sight of her hands, the wall, a painting, and then the ceiling moving beyond the opening followed by a wild motion of the wood, glimpses of Zelda’s armpit, her hair, her nose, and a single green eye as she pulled the garment on.  He heard her fasten it.

“Link?” she called.

“Nothing happened down here!”

“Excellent.”  She peered down at him.  “Link?  You are officially in my pocket.”

He snorted.  “I’m in your pants.”

“As is typical for you,” she said with a mischievous glint.

--

Being in Zelda’s pants (literally) turned out to be less interesting than Link thought it would.

She’d warped to Hateno rather than hike or paraglide down to Tarrey Town.

“What if the shorts fall off?”

“Do your pants usually fall off when you paraglide?”

“Of course not, but if they do, you are in them, and you shall hit the water, and if it comes pouring in, what will happen to you?”

Link shrugged.  “I’ll swim out.”

“Perhaps, but what if the entry fails to expand?”

“Why would it?!”

“No- we must be scientific about this.  Nothing risky is to be done without proof of concept.” Her spine straightened suddenly as though shocked.  “Goodness.  What if I fall?  Same potential result—possibly worse, for we do not know how taking on water affects the weight of the pants-“

Link started laughing.  “Zelda, they have a tree and a pond and- DIRT and things.  They don’t weigh anything.”

“Yet what if they do, Link?!  Perhaps a fraction of their weight is transferred.  We don’t know.  We cannot test it without removing the material, and frankly I have no wish to ruin that lovely environment in order to haul a tree out.  No, the only way would be to add material and weigh the shorts afterward.”

“Ze-“

“Of course, I would do that with the similar pocket on the left rather than disturb the pond...”

He’d been about to suggest he just… paraglide down with her and hop in the pocket in town.  They could be discrete about it—ask to use the bathroom at the Hudson Construction office or something—but he liked to hear Zelda talk, and she’d clearly started one of her long thinking-out-loud rolls.  So, he’d listened while making mental note of the locations of niiiice, big, heavy boulders he could shove in the bottom left pocket.

And now, here he was, chilling with the frogs, listening to Zelda’s footsteps and chatter with the townsfolk, making yet more mental notes of any jostling (which was… really easy since there’d been none so far), and trying to think of how else he could kick the frog habitat up a level.  Luckily, he could hear Zelda even with the flap closed, so he had some entertainment other than the sticky frog that had decided his back was comfortable.

His head shot up.

Neither of them had thought to test whether he could leave with the flap shut.  That, to him, seemed a much bigger deal than anything else.  What if she was hurt and he couldn’t get out to help her?  What if something attacked her?  Zelda could defend herself, sure, but he couldn’t be stuck in here, helpless, if someone or something meant her harm.  Bokoblins.  Moblins!  One of the remaining gleeoks he hadn’t yet purged from the depths.   He can’t possibly have found them all, and those things could fly like anything, come out of nowhere.  He’d never seen one leave a chasm but there was absolutely no reason he could see why it couldn’t, and chasms—dear Hylia, they probably hadn’t found them all and what if she was walking somewhere and she didn’t see it and she slipped and she was falling and falling and falling and he couldn’t catch her again-

“Link?” Zelda called.

Link’s pulse rushed fully tactile in the left side of his neck, audible especially in that ear.  Sweat had begun to seep into his clothing.

“Yeah!” he yelled.

“Any motion?”

He laughed a little, rubbing the back of his neck.  He’d stopped paying attention—but he hadn’t noticed anything.  “I don’t think so!”

He could practically hear her mind whir on that one.

“Alright!” she said.

He shook his head and rolled his eyes at himself.  He’d done it again.  He really, really, really needed to stop doing that.  Hadn’t that been part of the point of this gift to her?  Yeah, she loved the pockets, but also he’d had to get used to letting her be alone.  He must’ve been driving her crazy.  He’d barely been able to let her garden for five minutes without checking on her.

Better that she missed him than got unbearably sick of him hovering around her all the time.  It’d happened before, all those… very many long years ago.  It could happen again.

He scrubbed his face.

He had to think about something else.

He eyed a particularly quick hot-footed frog.

His nose wrinkled.  He wished he didn’t know what its secretions tasted like.  He wouldn’t enjoy being stuck in here with nothing but those things to eat.  He didn’t expect sticky frogs to be any better, or ordinary tree frogs for that matter.

Not that he planned on eating them.  But if it was him or the frogs-

The frog on his back made a soft ‘ribbit.’

Link craned his neck.  He could see the moist, blue tippy tip of his stowaway’s nose.

…Eh. Okay, the frog was cute.  He could eat other things first.

Grass!  There was grass. And flowers.

Could you eat dogwood trees? 

He’d have to dig himself a latrine.

…

It would be really gross.

Not as bad as Zelda being hurt.  By a lot.

But still… disgusting.

And she’d never let that happen to him unless she was hurt, so it was a moot point.

… Or unless the shorts fell in the lake.

He smacked his forehead.  He should know by now that Zelda was always right.  Because if lake water started pouring in here and he couldn’t get out because the flap was closed?

He was effed with a capital f.

Much better that he was in here than her.  He wouldn’t make it five minutes if their roles were reversed.  He’d be hauling her out of here forcibly.  Once they knew how it worked, sure.

Hestu hadn’t seemed to know much about it, either.  Magic, inventory-expanding dances?  He had those in the bag.  The mechanics of the bag?  Nope.

“No, thank you, Manny.”

Link’s eyes shot to the closed flap.

“It’s a spectacular collection of crickets, to be sure.”

“Turns out Lasli didn’t want them, either.”

Link groaned.

“Eh he.  Yes, I heard you telling Link last time.”

He was still on this?

“She didn’t like the frogs, either.  But you do, right, Princess?”

Link would not tell Manny Lasli loved fireflies.  Because she actually did, and he wouldn’t inflict Manny on anyone for real.

“I know you like them.”

…Link didn’t appreciate that tone in Manny’s voice.  Not that he knew what it was, exactly.

He just didn’t like it.

He didn’t like Zelda’s silence either.

He stood and padded barefoot over the grass to try and peek out the flap.

“W- eh- ll.  I- suppose I- do like frogs-“

“I have a hundred for you, Princess.  Do you want them?”

Link really didn’t like that tone of voice.

“U- ahem.  Do you mean the frogs?”

NOT ONE BIT.

Link shoved at the flap, too high-alert to be happy it didn’t resist him.  He grabbed the edge with both hands and stuck his head out.

He found himself looking at Zelda’s midriff.

“AaaaaAAAAAAHHHH!” Manny screamed, and he wasn’t the only one.

Several things happened in quick succession.

People and cuccos scattered (Link could hear them), something hit the ground hard and rattled, and several doors slammed open against their stops.

“ARE THOSE DAMN SKELETONS BACK?!”

“It’s daytime, dad!”

“Heavens, Princess, what are you wearing?!”

“MY LAUNDRY!”

“Princess!!! There’s an animal in your pocket!!”

Zelda’s arms shot out above Link’s head.  “Oh!  No, it’s—" a number of crickets landed on her midsection.  “Oh, my,” she said, hers the calmest voice in earshot as Link tried to figure out how to turn his head the right way.

“MANNY WHAT THE HELL, MAN?!”

“BLEHHHHGHGHGHHHH BUGS!”  (A door slammed shut).

Someone was shrieking high on the letter ‘E’ as Link, with a great deal of confusion, managed to twist around and see the street.

It didn’t help.

Manny was trying to scoop crickets out of the air and fling them back in the wood-and-mesh cage he’d kept them in, its latch flopping around.  The appearance of Link’s eyeballs knocked him back onto his hindquarters with a strange cry, almost as hard as if Link had punched him physically.  The cage landed lopsided—which was probably what happened a few seconds ago, too—and crickets streamed outward.

Ivee seemed every bit as terrified of Link’s disembodied head as she’d been of the potential pocket-critter and then some.  One of her knees rose and crossed her body as she squealed, dropping her broom.

Her father managed to make a wide-eyed scowl at Link.  “What in Hylia’s green hills?!  Link?!”

Manny panted, gulped, and leaned forward.  “L- Link, man.  It is you.”  He then looked from Link to the pocket below him, and up to Zelda’s face, an idea clearly forming.

“You-“ Link said, waggling a finger at him- “and me- we’re having a talk.  Soon.  Got it?”

For some reason Manny grinned wide.  “Got it,” he said with a wink.

Link was confused, but he’d take it for now.  “Good!” He twisted up to see Zelda.  “Hi,” he said.  A cricket landed on his forehead.

Zelda shook with laughter.  “Hello, Link.  Any jostling?”

“Not a thing!”

“Excellent.  Well.  Shall we continue?” she asked, shooing his cricket away.

“Depends,” Link said.  “Do you actually want those frogs?”

Zelda shook her head.  “It is far too many frogs.  Manny?”

“Y- yes, Princess?”

“You ought to return those hot-footed frogs to the wild where you found them, though keeping a few would be alright.  I have enough in here already.”

“E-enough?” Manny stuttered as Link leaned out to see just how many frogs there were and where the heck he was keeping them.

The sticky frog on Link’s back made its bid for freedom.

It launched through the air with a loud croak and landed on Ivee’s hip.

She shrieked, flapping her shirt wildly in attempt to fling it off.  Link moved reflexively to yank himself out and recover the frog. Instead, Zelda toppled as Link simply appeared, connected to her leg.  They landed in a heap, Zelda on top, with her face in Link’s hair and Link’s legs still dangling in the other-dimensional space.

“I got heavy again, didn’t I?” Link said to the dirt.

Zelda nodded in his hair.

“I’ll get you a new frog,” Link offered.

“No need,” she said, having turned her head to rest it on Link, watching Ivee quiver in fear as the blue terror slowly scaled her torso.  “It’s not going anywhere.”

Link rotated his face to look Manny in the eye.  “Seriously.  You’re still trying this?  What do you do, wait by the village entrance and offer critters to everyone who passes you?”

Manny leaned forward conspiratorially.  “Only the hot babes,” he whispered.

Link groaned and put his face back into the dirt.

It was better.

--

“Here you are, Link,” Zelda said, passing him yet another apple.

Not that he wouldn’t take it, but wow, she wanted him to eat today, didn’t she?

“Thanks, Zel!” He grabbed it and made extremely short work of it.  He tried to shove the core in his own pouch again, wrinkling his nose when it just hit bottom and got his hand sticky.  “Aw.  I keep forgetting.”

Her hand reappeared in the opening as she chuckled.  “It must feel strange to suddenly have an ordinary pouch.”

“You bet.  Don’t know how I managed before.”

“Well, fret not.  You shall have access to your many thousands of odds and ends once you emerge.”

Good thing, too.  He’d’ve had some kind of breakdown if bringing his pouch inside THIS pouch had broken his pouch forever.

He had over a dozen omelets in there, to say nothing of a now exceedingly rare undecayed eightfold blade.

It struck him real suddenly why she was feeding him so much.  He couldn’t just reach in and pull out a snack like he usually could.

He found himself very warm and fuzzy.  He turned his eyes on Zelda, still peering curiously at him.  “Thanks, Zelda.  You’re… really thoughtful.  You know that?”

She blinked at him slowly.  “You’re… welcome, Link.”

--

Link now understood his disembodied appearance in Zelda’s pocket was both an asset and a curse.

Sticking his head out among adults, unexpected?  Chaos.

Sticking his head out in the Hateno schoolyard?  Also chaos.  But the screams were fun-kid-play screams, not screams of abject, world-view-upending terror.

The schoolbell rang.

“Awwww,” Azu said.  “We just got started!”

They had, in fact, just started chucking insects, sticks, and chunks of bark into the pocket and watching, fascinated, as they fell sideways upon entering the magical space.

Zelda gave an indulgent chuckle.  “I’m sure the frogs will be appreciative of your efforts, and It’s not as though we won’t be back.  Go to class!”

The children grumbled a little as they traipsed inside.  So did Link’s stomach.

“You know, they fed the frogs, but did I get anything?  Nope.”

“Hmm.  I imagine that’s because they’d eaten their lunches already.”

“Aww.  I wouldn’t take the kids’ lunch.”

Zelda hummed a laugh, her forehead wrinkling slightly. “Are you hungry already?”

“Oh yeah.”

“Truly?  It’s not as though we didn’t have our own lunch… and quite a few snacks for you.”

Link shrugged.  “Hungry anyway.”  She was still… looking at him, but not in the ‘oh look it’s Link, he’s so attractive and I’d like to be back at home in bed right now’ way or the ‘look at Link, he’s so silly, he makes me laugh, he might do something else funny if I keep watching’ way.

He could usually de-code if he studied her hard enough—but right now he had to look partway up her nostrils to do it.  “You… have your thoughtful-face on,” he said.

“I’m always thinking,” she said with a smile.

A suspicious smile.  “Yeaaaaaah, but sometimes you’re thinking harder.”

She cocked her head, still watching him.

He cocked his, too, with half a grimace on.

Maybe it was the ‘he might do something funny’ face.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

Link spun around, spotting a stick Karin had tossed inside.  He snatched it up, looked Zelda right in the eye, and took a nice, hearty chomp.

Her head reared.

“Mmm,” Link said.  “Sassafras!”

It tasted like skunky-root-beer-meets-a-whole-box-worth-of-matchheads, but the look on Zelda’s face was worth it.

She only laughed a little, though.

He’d have to up his game.

Either that, or he’d just have to be attractive later.

He chuckled to himself.  Why not both?

In the meantime, he had a bunch of items to arrange.  Now that Zelda had this pocket, and now that it had frogs in it, and the kids had not only seen it but put stuff in it, they were absolutely going to want to visit the frogs and see all their stuff in use in the frog habitat.

Link sighed, looking at the feeble collection of dead tree matter near the opening.

As if on cue, Zelda reached in, a long, curled section of papery bark in her hand.  “Would… you like this, Link?”

“Sure—thanks!” he said.  He grabbed it and snatched up the rest, intent on turning the kids’ offerings into a tiny frog village in the corner.

--

“Link,” Zelda said, her voice carefully nonchalant.  “Here’s some oak wood.”

Link arrived at the flap and took it from her.  “Oh great, yeah, thanks!”  He gave her a huge, excited grin and an eyebrow flash.  Then he raised it to his wide-open mouth and stuck it right in.

Zelda swallowed, wide-eyed.

He disappeared to the left again with some small shuffling sounds.

She then heard a crack, and a happy sound from Link.

Zelda began to think frantically.

--

“H- here you are, Link,” Zelda said.

Link turned from his task to see her hand dangling a scrap of leather into the opening.

He bounded over to her, reaching for the offering.  Zelda seemed a bit less happy than he’d have liked, her lips pressed together and held there by her teeth.  He looked her over.  Then he looked the leather over.  Not terrible leather.  Not great.  Nothing special.  Big enough to be a blanket for a frog.  He snorted.

He’d stuck a few different kinds of wood in his mouth since the stick made her laugh at least a little, but when she got serious he did, too, going about his construction efforts.  A bunch more bark, several sticks, chunks of wood, and a sheet of slate later, here she was handing him leather.

What was he supposed to do with it?

She was watching him so closely!

…Maybe she got serious because he got boring?  His mouth pulled in deep on the left.  He studied Zelda’s downturned face.  Maybe he hadn’t gone big enough.  “Look.  Do you want to see me eat this?  Because I can totally eat the whole thing.”  He could, too.  He’d eaten way worse.

Her eyes flicked elsewhere, then back to him with a little shimmy of her head.

It was cute.

He smiled.

“No, Link,” she said.

He blew a puff of air out.  He’d hoped so.  “Just checking.”

She looked so expectant.

What was he missing?

“…Thanks, Zel!  Be back in a minute.”  He jogged past the tree and out of Zelda’s direct line of vision.

What to do with the leather?  Zelda didn’t just do things for no reason.  Maybe he should just ask her.  But she wasn’t saying anything, so she must think he already knew, so it must be something for the habitat and he must be being dense, and-

Oh.

OH.

He was… really thick sometimes.  He smiled to himself.

Of course.  He’d even thought it was about big enough to cover a whole frog!  It could be a little frog blanket.  Or a mat.  Or frog armor for a teeny tiny little frog army.

Link’s entire form lit up.

No, no.  Zelda was studying the frogs, not playing with them.  The kids would play with them.

…It would be so cute.

He sighed.  He would resist.  Little mats?  For the cute little frog houses he’d already made with the sticks and stuff?  Sure.  He could make frog-tents, too.  It was always light in the habitat.  They probably needed someplace dark they could go hide in sometimes.  Yes!

Link got to work, realizing pretty quickly he didn’t have all the tools he needed.  He wandered back to the flap.

“Hey, Zelda?”

“Yes, Link!”

“I need some thread and some long, thin lengths of leather.  And more rectangles of leather.  Maybe…” he thought for a moment.  “Thirty-six pieces.”

She stared at him.  “Thirty-six?”

“Yep.  Just to be safe.”

--

I am extremely concerned that Hylian mental status is negatively affected by enclosure within my cargo shorts’ lower-right pocket, Zelda wrote in her research journal.

As Link expressed his hunger despite his frankly gargantuan intake of food, I recalled that items retrieved from Link’s pouch emerge exactly as they went in.  Food does not spoil.  Vegetation does not wither.  Animals do not perish.  And indeed, nothing has occurred to harm the frogs we’ve placed in the habitat for study.  Yet one would think if time stood still, they would not hop (etc.).  Clearly, whatever magic occurs is complex.

I would be merely curious rather than concerned had Link not proceeded to eat sassafras wood (notably unhealthy).  Indeed, for each piece of wood I passed to him after that, he thanked me profusely.  He then appeared to develop an insatiable craving for soft leather!  Is he unable to appease his hunger if he enters in a hungry state?  And was Link willing to eat these items because he was truly that hungry, or has the space had an effect on his thinking?

I oughtn’t allow him to go back in.  It took a good deal of convincing to get him to come out.  He insisted he ‘wasn’t finished.’  I had to lower a rope in and ask him to climb it to test the effect of our gravity vs. that of the gravity within the pocket as he climbed.  I was quite relieved when he agreed.

--

“Morning, Zel!” Link chimed from the kitchen—Zelda had made her way partially down the steps to the alluring aroma of honeyed flapjacks.

“Good morning, Link,” she said, her smile a little more tired than it should have been considering her large amount of sleep.  She breathed deep.  “That smells delic…ious.”

Zelda stared at the low table along the far wall.  “Link?”

“Yep?”

“What are those?”

Link followed her gaze.  “Oh!  Yeah, the leather was a really good idea.  I’ll bring those ones in with me today.”

She blinked, shaking her head.  “You… what?”

“Into the pocket today,” Link said, flipping one of the pancakes.  A few dark spots revealed wildberries embedded in it.  “I’ll bring them in with me.”

“Link- I… was thinking perhaps you shouldn’t go in there today.”

“Huh?  Why not?”

“Well, for one thing we’ve other concerns.  We are overdue for our visit to Rito Village.  I know Tulin has been anxious to discuss his Zonai stone, and we shouldn’t put that off for any of our modern-day sages.  There ought to be- some manner of succession, or-“

“Zel,” Link said, a quizzical look on his face as he slid the honey and blackberry flatcake onto a plate.  “This… is nothing new, and none of them are…” he shrugged, waving his pan and his spatula- “old, or… sick, or anything.  It can totally wait.”

“It’s not as though the pockets can’t wait.”

“Zel, you literally just started testing them out yesterday.”  He squinted at her.  “You were worried about just keeping frogs in there without understanding how the fake environment would affect them.  Right?”  He waited.

“Well… yes.”

“And they just plain old don’t like our little L-shaped pond thing.  Right?”

“…They do not seem to particularly enjoy it, no.”

“Because they leave.”

“Yes.”

“So you can’t just take the little guys out and put them in our pond.”

“Not if I expect to see them again.”

“And you like frogs.”

“They are fascinating,” she said.  “Not that other creatures aren’t – they certainly are – but, at least in our time, their effects on speed, strength, and stamina were poorly understood, though of course we can make some elixirs from them, and now with these sticky frogs having sprung from the caverns opened in the upheaval, there is so much more to learn.  It’s not even just the frogs, it’s-“

She stopped at the huge, dimpled smile on his face.

“What is it?”

“You,” he said.  He replaced the pan on the wood stove and dolloped some batter in it—then he circled the table and wrapped her up in his arms.  “I love how curious you are,” he said.

“Even after all that time,” he said, far more quietly.

She’d snuggled into him, but his tone had her pulling back, examining his face; his smile had vanished.  She traced his lips with an unthinking fingertip.  “Link…”

He tried and failed to smile under her touch.

She stroked the subtle hollow of his cheek.  It disturbed her a little that he even had a hollow of his cheek, with all the food he took in.  He never used to.  He’d had rounded cheeks, always.

“Sorry,” he said.  “It hits me sometimes… how long you waited.  For me.  Because I-“  he swallowed.  “Because I missed.”

She shook her head and crushed him to her, pressed his face to her shoulder.  “No, Link.  No.  Truly.  It wasn’t like that.  It was as though…. a long dream.”

He nodded against her.  She’d told him before—many times—yet it continued to haunt him, evidenced by moments like this.  Sometimes she thought he didn’t believe her.

Sometimes she suspected hethought about it far more than he let on—wondered if the occasions on which he acted strangely were fueled, somehow, by that fall of hers into blackness and its consequences.

Not for Hyrule.  He’d saved that.

But she’d spent eons and eons so very far not only from him, but from her own consciousness—and self-recrimination kept surfacing within him for it.

Zelda thought of his months-long korok obsession.  Of his need to have hundreds upon hundreds of ‘seeds,’ and that need utterly overriding his usual (over)protectiveness of her, even to the point of him going when she specifically requested he stay.

There had been no pocket to affect his thinking, then.  Perhaps an oddity of the flow of time had nothing to do with his behavior.

She worried at her lip and thought of the scraps of leather lined up on the table partway behind her.  “…Link?” she asked.

“Yeah, Zel?”

His voice sounded thick.

She stroked his hair and took a deep breath.  “What is the leather for?”

His eyelashes fluttered against her skin.  He lifted his head to look at her.  “Frog tents.”

“…Frog tents?”

“And mats and blankets, and I was thinking of making cute little sets of leather frog armor, but I figured that was just me being a little bored and not actually something that would spruce up the habitat, though the kids would sure enjoy it.  Maybe we should get them to make some.”

Zelda breathed a sigh of relief.  “You-“ she shut her mouth.  Should she say something?

“Zelda?”

She smiled, her thoughts turning.  “Link- you… you worried me yesterday.  Considerably.”

He looked nonplussed.  “I did?  How?”

She gave him a look, then patted his shoulders—he released her.  She walked over to her hung shorts.  She reached into one of the storage pockets and removed a birch branch.

She returned to Link and held it out to him expectantly.

He just stared at her.  He flicked his eyes to the branch once.  Then he stared some more.  “Uh.”

“What… would you do with this if I gave it to you?” she asked.

Link scratched the back of his head.  “I mean… usually I’d whack a bokoblin with it- ONLY if it was red, mind you.  But now with the pond, I could give it to the frogs like all the other stuff.”

She blinked at him. “You could… what?”

“Yeah, I can arrange it around the pond- well… it’s really in the corner, I didn’t want to put it right next to the water.   It looks pretty neat already but it’s not even close to finished yet.  It’ll be like a little frog village.  Little log seats and tents, and an itty bitty frog campfire for them to sit at, and little mats for them to sleep on, and…” he trailed off at the look on her face.  “What?”

“You haven’t been eating these?”

He stared at her.

Then he burst out laughing.  “What?!”

She spread her arms wide.  “You have been- taking bites of wood, and bark, and even rocks—though granted this is not the first time I’ve seen you eat rock-“

“Salt’s a rock.”

“That is beside the point, Link, the darling, obtuse love of my life.”  She gripped his shirt with two fists and put some of her weight on them.  It made him lean over with a bit of a droll smile on his face.  “You were displaying- extraordinarily odd behavior once more.  Please, please, explain your actions if not to sate your seemingly inexhaustible hunger while inside the pocket?”

“You thought I was eating wood because I was too hungry?”

“Of course!”

He huffed a laugh.  “Why wouldn’t I just ask you for actual food?”

“I wondered the same thing!”

“You could’ve asked me why.”

She blinked, drawn up short.

His thumbs drew gentle shapes on her biceps.  His eyes wandered all over her features.  One eyelid twitched just slightly more shut.  “Why didn’t you ask?” His voice had softened so much.

Her mouth opened and shut, her fingertips on his face again.  She made a study of his features with them, moving from place to place.

Link’s nostrils flared a second before she noticed the burning smell.

“Sh-!” he leapt almost comically over the table (comically except that he was Link, so the leap itself was graceful and perfectly executed to place him directly in front of the stove).  “Ahhh, this happens so much…” He flipped the offending flapjack with a flick of his wrist.  The underside was, indeed, rather burnt, but she knew he’d finish cooking it anyway.

He didn’t turn around.

His shoulder blades shifted as he jiggled the pan.

Zelda circled the table, arriving at his side, his nearer hand still on the pan’s handle.  “Link?”

His face turned toward her, and while he showed no outward sign of tears, she knew that face on him.  They weren’t far off.

She caressed his bicep, his hairline where his head and neck met.  “What is it?”

He half-laughed, shutting his eyes and leaning into the hand at his neck, just for a moment.  “You tell me.  You… didn’t answer my question.”

Her cheek came to a slow rest at his shoulder, her eyes on his, at a loss to explain.  She didn’t know where to start.

Her silence seemed to hurt him, almost bodily.  He winced.  He moved the pan onto a thick potholder.  He pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut.  He took a few deep breaths before returning his eyes to hers.

“Well, you wanted to know what I was doing, so… I was just trying to make you laugh.  At first, I mean.”  His smile was very, very weak.  “The joke didn’t land, huh?”

Her eyes had widened a little.  “I.. thought-“

“It’s okay,” he said.  A small smirk touched his face.  “I’m funnier when I’m not trying.”

A small laugh puffed out her nose.

“Oh ho!  Yeah, see?  I thought so.”

“I am sorry, Link.  I thought it was hunger because you were simply insatiable all morning.”

He flashed his eyebrows twice.

She giggled. “That is not what I meant.”

He smiled anyway.

“You devoured breakfast, lunch, and every other piece of food I passed to you while you were in there!”

He shook a little in a laugh, though his face remained far less than jovial.  “How is this unusual?”

“Do you realize how much food it was?”

“OH yeah.”

“And you were still hungry?”

“I’m always hungry.  I can literally always eat.”

“You say that, but your stomach must be of limited size.”

Link shrugged.

“I’d begun to wonder if I the space you were in was affecting you.”

“Well, again… I don’t understand why you didn’t just ask me.”

The shadow she’d been seeing in him became all the more obvious.

“Link… you always say you’re alright.”

He shrugged.  “I always am.”

“No, you are not,” she blurted, surprising even herself.  “Link… I see it in you.”  She pressed her hands to his face, cradling him.  “You’ve not been- you’ve never been the same since I came back,” she said, almost whispering.  “I see it there, in your eyes- and more than that.  It’s a change in your entire body, your full self.  Yet you always insist you’re alright.  I do not ask because-“ she just realized it herself- “you would not tell me truthfully.”

She could see him floundering, but her mouth would not stop.  “You have been acting strangely.  For months, you were collecting korok- seeds- with such fervor, willing to leave me for long stretches of time, which had up to that point been quite unusual for you—and you refused to tell me what that was about, too. And then-“ she snapped her fingers- “nothing.  No more.”  She softened at the odd twitching which appeared in his left cheek—she’d no wish to come across as harsh—she simply could not contain it any longer.  “Your night excursions worried me at first, too, and then especially when you mentioned the forest.”

“But,” he cut in, “you know what it was about now, right?”

“Yes, obviously now I know,” she said.

He shook his head, then cocked it strangely at her.  More quizzical than she’d ever seen him be—there was another word for it.  She couldn’t quite place it, perhaps because she’d never seen it on his face.

“So… why are you… still worried?” he asked.

She ducked, seeking his eyes from below.  “How can you not know?”

He splayed his hands wide, face up, shaking his head.  “I- don’t!”

“Link.  You spent months feverishly collecting pellets of korok dung!”

He blinked.  A lot.

Then he looked somewhere straight above Zelda’s head.

“Oh,” she sighed, her face in her hands.  “I- I am sorry, Link, it was obvious you didn’t know, and that in and of itself wasn’t my concern.  Why- why collect them in the first place?  Even if they were seeds in the literal sense?”

Link groaned.  Then he grabbed her biceps and rested his forehead on hers with a flabbergasted smile.  “Wow.  Wow.  Okay, so, yeah, I didn’t know they were turds.  Holy Hylia, I could kill Hestu.”

“Who is Hestu?”

Link shook his head.  “Tell you later.  No, you know what?  I’ll introduce you later.  We can shake the maraca tree together.”

Zelda opened her mouth, but Link shushed her with his fingerpad on her lips.  “I get it.  Why you thought I was nuts.  Because that’s what this is about, right?  You thought I was losing it, so you didn’t want to ask me, because of course if I was really insane I wouldn’t know anyway, so the answer doesn’t matter.  Does that about sum it up?”

Her eyes welled with tears.

“Hey- hey- no, no no no, please.  Don’t cry.” He kissed both her eyelids with a loving smile.  “Yeah, I’d’ve thought you were losing it if you were collecting feces without it being some kind of study.”

She burst into a tearful giggle.  “But not if it were a study.”

“No, pff!  Of course not.  You’ve studied nastier things.  But that’s kind of my point.  Like- I really thought I had given the game totally away when I told you I didn’t have enough seeds.”

“I… don’t understand.”

“Did I never tell you this??  Hestu- who you will meet- is the guy who does the magic to expand the pockets.  And you have to pay him in korok seeds to do it.”

“What?!”

“Yeah!”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“That’s absurd!”

“He’s a trickster.  Now I know!”

“What would he possibly want them for?”

“His maracas.”

“His what?!”

“His maracas!  He sticks them inside and shakes them around and does this ridiculous dance and BOOM—expanded pockets!  He can even make spaces within the spaces which is how I can keep all my swords separate, and my bows, and… and…”

He must have seen the look on her face.

“So…” she said, “if anyone is mad, it is this Hestu.”

Link snorted.  “I sure hope so.  Because if not, then it’s still me who’s lost his hold on reality.”

Zelda smiled at him.  “I would love you anyway.”

He took his time folding her into his arms.  “I know.”

“I… am still surprised you were willing to leave me for such long stretches of time.  I was becoming lonely.  At least, now, I know the entire ordeal was with the aim of creating a truly spectacular pair of shorts.”

He shook with silent laughter against her.  “Yeah.  Though… I was also trying to leave you alone.”

Her arms pressed him extra-tightly for a beat of her pulse.  “Why?”

Two puffs of air exited him quick, fluttering the hair near her temple.  “Because it’s been so hard to.”

The shadow in his eyes had risen to the surface, bared for her.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, soft, her lips near his, her eyes treating each of his to touch after touch of her sincerity.

Link cupped her face and kissed her, his lips a bare brush, a gift of pure emotion, nothing taken.  “It was.  Shhh- I know.  I know what you’d say, but it was my fault.  I dropped.  And it wasn’t because I couldn’t stand.  It was because-“ a disgusted laugh left him- “it hurt.”

“Link,” she said, aghast.  “The gloom killed your arm while still upon your body!  It took even your shoulder.  You were in agony-“

“But I could have stayed standing.”  The loathing in his unfocused stare found her shrinking, though she knew it directed toward himself.  “It would’ve saved me about half a second.  When you fell.  And I’d have caught you.  As it was, I felt the air from your fingers as I missed.”

She couldn’t stop shaking her head, touching his face, his hair.  “Please.  Please, my love, do not do this to yourself.  Do you not see…?“ She straightened.  “You do.  You do see.  For if you didn’t, you would never be willing to leave me alone for a single instant of the rest of my life, ever.  Yet you already have.  You’ve intentionally forced yourself to do so.  And why?”

His eyes shut under her hands’ ministrations.  “Because I don’t want to drive you nuts.”

She nodded, her forehead against his so he could feel it despite his shuttered eyelids.  “Which means you recognize constant, incessant vigilance is unreasonable.  And if it is unreasonable under normal circumstances, it is certainly unreasonable in the case of an agonizing injury—one single moment in relation to it, and that is all.”  She kissed his cheek.  “It is not. Your.  Fault.”

A tear met the bow of her lip.

“Oh, Link,” she said, kissing it away.

“It feels like it is,” he said on nearly no air, his diaphragm having already crushed the rest from him.

She took him against her shoulder as he shook.  Saltwater jumped in fits and starts between the peach fuzz at the nape of her neck.  She stroked his hair.  “I know,” she said.  “I know it does.  We will work on this together, Link.  Alright?  When you feel this way, please speak to me.”

He nodded against her, the movement slowed by a nuzzle.

“And also… I do not at all mind you being my barnacle.”

A laugh burst from his mouth, cooling the freshly laid tracks of moisture on her.

“Please,” she chuckled.  “Do so as much as you wish.  In fact, do so even more, for I enjoy the unique sensation of my strides riding entirely upon yours.”

“You got it,” he said, his hand running warm over her back, as though he were the one comforting her.

She returned the gesture.

When Link recovered enough for his stomach to rumble, she insisted he sit.  She served him the one flapjack he’d successfully cooked.  She made the rest, and she did quite a good job of it, too (though in fairness, Link had already prepared the batter—by far the trickier part of the task).

They ate on the same side of the table, always touching. While Link had been right—she did want to study the pond-pocket carefully, and sooner rather than later—the day's priorities had changed. She decided to forego her investigation in favor of bed, where Link enthusiastically joined her.

--

Late at night, Link burst to wakefulness, shooting upright with a cry.

“Whhhhfauuha?” Zelda said, bleary.

“They’re all in on it!” Link said in horror.  “Every last one of them.  Every single korok.”  The look he turned on Zelda might’ve been lucid.

Or he might’ve been sitting up in his sleep.

She just laid the flat of her forearm on his chest and pushed him down, snuggling back up to sleep.  He didn’t resist.

--

“Hi, Hestu,” Link said, his smile completely relaxed.

“Link!  It’s good to see you.  Did you bring any more seeds for me?”

Link’s smile widened.  “Actually, today I brought the Princess to see you.”

“The PRINCESS?! Shakala!!!” Hestu waved his maracas in a ponderous mockery of semaphore.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Hestu,” Zelda said.  “Now please, in no uncertain terms, explain precisely why you manipulated Link into delivering thousands upon thousands of korok droppings to you in exchange for your inventory expansion services.”

The maracas went utterly still.

Zelda’s smile remained pleasant.

“Mmmm?” rumbled the Deku Tree’s voice.  “What has my grandson been doing?”

Hestu remained balanced on a single, awkward, stubby leg, maracas-out, his only movement a slight shivering of the leaves in his branches.  Then something hit the ground with a deep thump.

“I- I’ll be right back!” Hestu said, his wood-moustache shivering as he scampered with all the grace of a land-manatee down the path toward Mido Swamp.

Link stepped forward, feet shoulder-width apart, eyes groundward.  He nodded with a sniff.

“What is it?” Zelda asked.

Link tilted his head.  “Well.  You know that saying about shitting bricks?”

Zelda peered curiously past him.  “Oh.  My.”

“Yeah.”

“Well.”  She clasped her hands.  “Perhaps we should collect it.”

Link took an extremely long moment to turn and look at her.

The corner of her mouth twitched.

Link burst into relieved laughter.

“I couldn’t resist,” Zelda said.

[cosmicwolfboy]

crutchie - akb vs matthew duckett !!!!

alternatively titled - cast disabled people jesus christ

listen i am having so many thoughts and feelings about crutchie and at the risk of annoying the fuck out of my partner i am putting them on here instead!

prefacing this by saying:

i do not speak for all cripples

matthew’s duckett was my first real introduction to crutch and yes i am probably biased because of it (because matthew was an absolute sweetie when i met him)

i do not actually hate AKB as much as i dislike his crutchie

★

i think the main problem i have with his crutchie (and i understand that it is not entirely his fault at all!!!!) is that it’s so sanitised in so many ways. it is so of its time and not really in a good way, it came about in a period where representation wasn’t a big focus and i very much understand that, but i also hate it.

it’s so easy for disabled characters to fall into this weird ,sanitised, almost infantilising position, where their struggles are shown (abuse from the delanceys that was directly because of his disability, the fact he’s more likely to be put in the refuge because he’s seen as ‘weak’), but they’re bound by this kind of happy-go-lucky persona where they don’t show any real anger or upset. it’s fuelled by the abled need to see disabled characters as some sort of inspiration porn. “he’s crippled but look how happy he is despite that!!!!!! if he can do it i can too!!” he has this air of innocence and can-do-no-wrong that kinda falls a little flat compared to all his friends of the same age, and whilst this wouldn’t be a problem in itself, it fits a repeating pattern of the innocent, docile physically disabled person that is shown so much.

i loved matthew’s crutchie so much because he was so much more than that. he was happy, he was kind and an big laugh, but he didn’t shy away from being truly angry or scared (in the finale when he is brought back and cuffs snyder) and he was still a bit of a dick, he felt a lot more like he truly belonged. one of my favourite examples is at the start of the show the first time we see katherine, he helps one of the boys (i can’t remember which one) steal something from darcy and keeps it on him through the rest of the show. he’s as playful and annoying as the rest of them, shooting paper balls at them with his slingshot (especially during the finale, i love him so much for that). he has an attitude. he has the energy of a boy who was raised on the streets and knows what the fuck is what.

and thats what i think changes him the most for me. it’s all the same script (?) but it’s all so different when you think about how smart crutch actually is. i think the biggest change is my idea of him specifically when he’s being so nice to weasel at the beginning, when all the boys are being annoying and dicks, crutchie is so sweet. i don’t believe he’s doing that because he’s just such a nice guy who can look past weisel and the delancey’s being assholes to them, i think he realised quickly how to play the game. he’s gonna get sympathy, he knows that, and he knows if he acts all innocent and is overly kind, that they’ll somewhat pity him and he can use that to his advantage.

i hate being pitied by most people, i hate being looked at differently, like i’m almost helpless. but i also know how to use it to help myself, i know when i can play the poor little cripple card to my advantage. and i fully believe crutch does the same.

edited to add because i forgot to add this entire section in sorry!!

when i say sanitised i also mean literally. as in they made him cleaner. specifically in the finale again when he’s brought back from the refuge, broadway crutch looks way too clean. he’s a little bashed up but he’s not dirty. he doesn’t look like he’s been battered and then subjected to awful conditions. it takes away the impact of his time at the refuge. when he got back in the uk production they actively were disgusted by how much he smelled, because he’d just got out of a place where he couldn’t look after himself for a multitude of reasons. he suffered in there, mentally and physically, and in more ways than one. he was not given nice clean clothes and a pat on the back, he was taken out and put right back into the mess without much time to check himself over, without any time to process or heal.

i just think it has a much bigger impact when you can see, from his actual appearance and the other guys’ reactions, how much he actually struggled in there. they were glad to have him back of course, but it really drove home the point of how badly it affected him.

and once again in that scene, you could see the fear on his face and the anger when he faced snyder and when he made a move at him. he was fucking scared of the man that had subjected him to all of that. even when he was being a little goofy and put on the hat to handcuff him, there was still that fear, and there was evidence to why.

(end of edit)

but like i said, i don’t think it is entirely akb’s fault or his intention, he almost definitely wasn’t aware of the way it came off and how it perpetuates stereotypes. but it’s just another reason why giving disabled roles to disabled people is so important. plus we know how to use mobility aids properly

★

shoutout to my beloved partner who proof reads my shit and also is the reason i am into newsies . thank u babie @fizzloves-blog <3

[hanavesinauttija]

Inspired by @txttletale 's post, I decided to try my hand at making a custom V1 magic card.

Card Transcription

V1, Marksmachine 2UBR Legendary Artifact Creature - Construct Coin Toss - Whenever V1 attacks, defending player creates four tapped Treasure tokens. Untap them at end of combat. Marksman - You may choose Treasures as targets as though they were creatures or players. Ricoshot - Whenever you cast a spell that targets a single Treasure, destroy all Treasures, then change the target of that spell. Copy that spell for each Treasure destroyed this way. You may choose new targets for the copies. 3/3

End Transcription

Art Link

Here are some design notes:

This is a top-down design meant to translate the Marksman weapon from Ultrakill. It allows you to toss up to four coins, which ricochet bullets shot at them.

This is meant as a combat-trick focused commander, allowing you to clear the way for V1 by copying removal spells. That said, there is an alternate approach in making your own Treasure tokens and copying more powerful spells at sorcery speed.

Yes, you can use this to take extra turns.

The flavor words match with in-game terms and are meant to help in parsing which parts of the card do what.

Coin Toss: V1 can toss up to four coins at a time in-game and they deactivate upon hitting the ground, which is translated as untapping them. The opponent can use the Treasures as they wish after that.

Marksman: I'm somewhat unhappy with this flavor word, but I couldn't find an in-game term that fit this better. The wording and effect of this ability is novel, and I had to extrapolate the wording from [[Know Evil]] (fantastic card, that)

Ricoshot: This is the in-game term for ricocheted bullets. I had to refer to a whole bunch of different cards to make this ability parse well, but I'm happy with it.

Overall this card is very wordy, but has one less word than [[Tom Bombadil]] so I'm in the clear :)

[phyrestartr]

PR Stunt (Only, Right?) | Sukuna/M!Reader | Teaser!

#NSFW in full, bottom!reader, top!sukuna, Sukuna owns a body shop, reader is a performer, kinda meet cute, ABO dynamics, mpreg, yes there are always babies involved because i love dad sukuna, surprise baby, sukuna is a dickhead (what else is new), teaser not edited lmao

Note: This is just going to be a one-shot since it's already pretty much completed, just need to finish off the tail end and then go back and edit. Wanted a break from writing the other stories for a bit, so I hope you'll enjoy the full story when it's out

tags: @better-imagination-9 @better-imagination-9

“Did you sleep with (L. Name) (F. Name)?” 

The question caught Sukuna off guard; normally, Uraume didn't inquire into his personal life in regards to who he had and hadn't slept with. They were a friend, yes, but moreover they were the bookkeeper and helped with securing clients and arranging meetings–celebrities and their managers were fucks that Sukuna didn't like negotiating with. Best to leave the yapping to someone with a cooler head.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Sukuna asked as he rolled out from under the newest commissioned vehicle. 

Uraume walked to him, iPad in hand, and turned it to him, stone cold. 

Sukuna sat up straighter and squinted at the screen, annoyed. You’d probably just made up some salacious rumour and spread it throughout your friend circles; or worse, you wanted revenge on him for something he probably definitely did. In that case, Sukuna could somewhat understand. But still–

(Name) putting on weight? What’s happening to the former bombshell babe of Japan?!

Pregnant with a baby boy?! The secret's out!

(Name) returns to the stage after giving birth to a baby boy–but who is the father?

(Name) driving a Ryoumen Sukuna rescue vehicle?! Could he be the deadbeat dad we've been looking for?

Sukuna sucked his teeth after skimming over the article titles presented to him. 

“...No proof.” 

“Ah. Then please explain this,” Uraume requested, still polite as ever, as they flicked to an additional few images the scumbag paparazzi had caught of you. 

One was the car mentioned. Sukuna remembered it like it was yesterday–the joy of restoring a Porsche 911 back into its former glory was unmatched. You happily paid for all the parts and too often swung by to see the progress being made on the old thing. Obviously, Sukuna was more than happy to oblige. 

The next was of you holding a little nugget of a baby against your chest as you walked down a street in Shibuya. Nothing too damning, nothing too inspirational. 

But the last one–

“The fuck?” Sukuna mumbled as he snatched the iPad from Uraume’s hands and zoomed in on the now-toddler sitting with you in that damn Porsche, grinning brightly beside his mum while you ruffled his hair. His very, very pink hair. 

Sukuna took a breath while he thought. He didn't have to think too hard, though, not when he still dreamed about you and the short-lived fling between the two of you. 

“A Porsche 911, huh?” Sukuna grinned as he looked over the beat up, rusted beater of a car. He could still see scraps of its former glory, of the beautiful thing she used to be. Heaven knows she would've become an irreparable hunk of junk if you hadn't bought it from a scrapyard. 

“Yep.” You beamed. “So you think you can make her pretty again?” 

“You kidding? I'd pay you to let me fix this thing, baby.” Sukuna caught sight of your security stepping forward, but you waved them off without a second thought. 

Sukuna smirked. “But it’s not gonna be cheap.” 

You nodded. “Well, do what you have to. I'll pay whatever you need, handsome.” 

“Yeah?” Sukuna asked, looking your neatly-manicured appearance up and down; you were dressed like you were meeting someone of great importance (and  you were, obviously), with your hair groomed perfectly, outfit fit for a premiere, skin flawless. 

“Mhm. And I tip well.” you looked him up and down in kind, grinning as you bit at the nub of your sunglasses.

“Done.” 

Every time you came to check on his progress, genuine excitement flooding in your motormouthed Words, you'd go home with him and fuck him silly. 

And now, you were the momma to his baby. Allegedly. 

“I–so what the fuck does this have to do with anything?” Sukuna ran a frustrated hand through his hair after Uraume took the tablet back. “Bitch isn't asking for anything, he's not asking me to be his public fucking baby daddy, not asking me to pay for nothing?” 

“No,” Uraume conceded, “But he and his PR managers have reached out concerning this.” 

The man groaned and stood. “Fucking hell. Can't stand fucking PR teams. Thw fuck did they want?” 

“They want to make a statement about Touma's father.” 

Sukuna froze.

“Touma's a good name for a boy, right?” 

You asked the question so suddenly, so out of nowhere in the quiet of the afterglow. The city lights sparkled and winked at you both through the towering windows keeping you safe from the outside world. In hindsight, Sukuna would wonder if the city was excited for him. For you. 

“What, for a mutt?” Sukuna drawled, puffing on a blunt while he played with your hair and drowned in the tingles left in the wake of fingers drawing circles on his bare chest. 

“For a kid,” you chastised With a laugh. “I like Touma. Or Touka for a girl. Ayato's nice, too. Maybe Kazue.” 

“You better not be pregnant.”

“I'm not, I'm not. I'm just getting baby fever, I guess.” You hummed and left a sweet kiss against his tan skin. “I guess being around a big, bad boy like you's got me feeling domestic.” 

Sukuna laughed, dazed and happy. “You wanna ruin this pretty lil’ body for a fucking kid? Be my guest. Just don't come looking for a booty call after you've ruined yourself like that.” 

“Oh, don't worry,” you cooed. “I won't.” 

Man. Man. 

“A statement.” 

“In other words–”

“I'm not the fucking father.” 

“This might be a good way to get Yorozu off your case,” Uraume suggested, and Sukuna perked up. 

“Right. She fuckin’ hates kids.” 

“So, if you were to have a son, and it's revealed you've been quietly trying to make things work behind the scenes with (Name), then hypothetically–”

“I'll take the runt.”

[thequeenofthedisneyverse]

Dragonoid's - Encanto Au

Ok I know there already has been a dragon au, but I was listening to the HTTYD soundtrack and when inspiration strikes, I have to take it-

So, in the world, there are two types of dragons. Normal ones you see flying around with "violent" tendencies. And the second kinds are called dragonoid's. Dragonoid's are a sub type of dragons. With every different type of dragon there's a dragonoid to follow.

As a dragon-oid you are either looked at as a Zoo animal, bad omen, or something to kill for money. Dragon scales and just skin in general is very valuable. Just one scale or slither of skin could have you set for life. 

Eggs are even more valuable because the shell is like a crystal. For example:

Plus, dragon eggs have children in them. If you have one, you can have a constant supply of money. (I'll let you figure that entails on your own)

Dragonoid characteristics. 

So, the obvious, scales! 

Scales start from the fingers and slightly pass the cubital fossa in a gradient like fashion. Same for the legs. The scales Start from the tip of the toes and slightly pass the knee. Claws are retractable but are still sharp and noticeable. 

Their skin is also bioluminescent so they have tons of beautiful spots and patterns that light up in the dark. 

Sclera can be a variety of different colors and so can the iris. So when a dragon needs to hide out in the open they need to wear a cloak, as well as gloves. 

If you have horns it’s best to shave them down or find a group to stay with. When you live in a group others can bring in much needed necessities for you. Also, horns can be a variety of sizes and can stretch far. So it’s usually mandatory to shave them down so you can lay down properly.

Alma has smaller horns that are about three inches tall so she doesn’t need to worry about shaving them down. 

Tails are always gonna be long, about five feet in length  for an average adult. But thankfully they are somewhat thin (only 4-five inches thick) and can easily wrap around a dragon's leg as a way to hide it. 

Some have wings, some don't. So, others have to rely on climbing or running/walking. Some can breathe fire, spit out lightning, acid, and some can’t at all. Those that can’t usually rely on their claws and strength. 

And yes, every single dragon has a fondness for shiny things and are semi-hoarders of anything shiny and glittery. 

Typical places for dragon groups to live are far away areas in forests or crystal caves. Crystal caves are the most common places to live and other dragons will fight other dragon groups for it.  (Dragonoid's are smart resourceful people with astounding intelligence, but I didn’t say they weren’t feral, especially when they need safety.)

-

Alma lived in a pleasant little dragonoid village. She was happy, which is an oddity when you are considered poaching material. It was hidden within the mountains and WAS a safe haven for dragonoid's AND regular dragons.

The story starts out the same, and you know how it ends.

-

The encanto is one big underground crystal cave mixed with a jungle..sort of? Kind of like this for reference (Yes, it's from HTTYD, BITE ME!)

There’s even a water part for more aquatic dragons. Speaking of which, the underground sanctuary has smaller caves inside fit for families to live in. These smaller caves have large holes in them that work like bedrooms. 

However, as an egg and even a baby, you sleep inside your parents' room until you're at least five years old.

I need worldbuilding ideas for this au soooo

@miracles-and-butterflies

@glowing-celesticpetals

@gamerbearmira

@evostar

@thefourchimes

(You are definitely NOT obligated to give my ideas. I'm just tagging y'all in case you might be interested in helping)

[versegm]

There are few things in this world that can genuinely surprise Morgan. It comes with living for so long, she supposes; when you’ve seen so many things, it’s hard not to feel a deja vue about everything. Even her own death, while unfortunate, had not been surprising. Morgan had always known that passing away peacefully was not an option for her.

Still, it seems that she has not grown fully immune to bafflement. “Come again?”

Sir Kyrielight swallows hard. She’s beet-red, wringing her hands nervously. Still, she does not break eye contact. “I said I love you.”

The sentence does not make any more sense the second time around. Morgan rotates it in her brain, tears it apart. I. This one is easy; it refers to Mash, the speaker. Love. An action and an emotion all at once- the thing Mash is presumably doing, or feeling. You. Morgan is the only one in the room. It can only refer to her.

I love you. Three words that do not fit together. One of them has to be wrong, surely. Misheard or misunderstood. If Mash loves someone, it certainly cannot be Morgan- cannot be this wretched witch willing to burn the world down for her goals. If Morgan is loved, it certainly cannot be by Mash- this knight of virtue and courage who stands by the human order. And if Mash and Morgan have anything between the two of them, it certainly cannot be love. Hate, perhaps. Comfort, if one is generous. But love? Love. Love. L, o, v, e. Barely even a word. Just four letters stacked together. A simple sound with no meaning. 

“As a… friend?” While still odd, this would make more sense than what Morgan initially interpreted. Yes, this must be what Sir Kyrielight had meant; that she held fondness for Morgan, and wanted to make it known.

Except, no. The knight shakes her head. “No. Romantically.”

And now Morgan is back to square one. “... Sir Kyrielight, are you certain you are not mistaken? Emotions can be hard to tell apart. You could not be blamed for mixing them up.”

She meant for her words to be comforting, but Sir Kyrielight’s gaze turns into a glare. While Morgan is not unaccustomed to the knight’s anger, she doesn’t recall ever seeing it directed towards her.

“ Queen of Winter, ” Morgan always takes care to use proper titles when addressing others. It’s only polite. Yet, somehow, having Mash refer to her by her title feels… uncomfortable. “You can reject me. You can ignore me. You can pretend I never said anything. But I will not allow you to deny my feelings.”

She walks up to Morgan. Sir Kyrielight is a full head shorter than her; but right now, back straight, fury in her eyes, that does not make her any less imposing. “I love you. Deal with it however you want, but that, that’s a fact.”

*****

“You told her what?! ”

Slowly, Morgan sets down her teacup. “It seemed like a logical conclusion at the time.”

“You and your logic.” Habetrot rolls her eyes, crossing her arms. “Morgan, listen to me. Love is an emotion. By definition, it is not rational. If Mash loves you, it’s not for something as simple as the sum of your parts. It’s because you’re you.”

Nonsense. Emotions may not be rational, but they’re still somewhat grounded in reality. What could there possibly be in Morgan that could inspire love? “I know not what to do with her love.”

“You don’t have to do anything with it.”Habetrot sighs. “It’s easy. If you love her back, tell her so, and the two of you can become merry brides together. If you don’t, tell her so, and she will nurse her broken heart on her own. You only really got two options here.”

Fair enough. “How do I know if I love her, then?”

Slowly, very slowly, Habetrot blinks.

“... Love,” she articulates carefully, as if talking to a child, “is an emotion. It’s something close to joy. When a bride gets close to her chosen groom, she gets so happy there are stars in her eyes. It’s a fire inside the soul, fluttering like birds inside one’s belly.”

… That seems a bit dramatic. Can emotions truly be so intense? Morgan has her doubts.

“So. Do you love her?”

Morgan thinks. She thinks hard. “... She makes me very happy.” She doesn’t know if this is love- but if nothing else, that part, she’s sure of.

Habetrot pinches the bridge of her nose. “Okay, this isn’t working. Let’s try something else.”

*****

“- and she sent me to you.”

Sir Barghest pauses, midway through stirring her stew. “To… explain love to you?”

Morgan nods. “Indeed. You are the most knowledgeable on that subject.”

“Your faith in me flatters me, your majesty.” The knight turns back to her stew. “Love is… a want. A hunger, of sorts. When you love someone, you want to be with them. The want can be more specific- wanting to kiss them, or make love to them- but generally speaking you just… want them.”

She reaches out to grab some spices. She does not look at Morgan. “It can be a terrible thing. Sometimes you want someone so badly you want to devour them. Sometimes love reduces you to something lower than an animal.”

She sprinkles some ginger in the broth. “But sometimes… love is what prompts you to become a better person. You want to be worthy of the person you love. You want to be good enough for them. And that part is wonderful, I believe.”

Hm. An interesting perspective. “Is it worth it? To love someone when you know you can very well be their doom?”

“Yes.” Sir Barghest does not hesitate even a second. “It is worth it. It has to be worth it. What would be, otherwise?”

If Sir Gawain of Many Lovers is saying it- then there must be some wisdom in that statement, even if Morgan doubts it.

Sir Barghest pauses once more, for a couple seconds. Then she turns to look at Morgan. “Your majesty,” she asks carefully, “what do you want?”

What does she want? She wants to spend more time with Sir Kyrielight, that much is undeniable. If she thinks more about it- she would be amenable to physical affection, even. Sir Kyrielight had hugged her a couple times, it had left her skin tingly all over for hours. Morgan can’t imagine what a kiss would do to her.

But… for all the things Morgan can and will do, she does not believe she is capable of change. She’d tried, she really did- tried to be a savior, tried to be the kind one, tried to be the helpful one. She couldn’t. Her role is that of a witch, and nothing, no one- not herself, not Totrot, not (Ma-) (Fairy knight Ga-) (her frien-) Uther could change that. Morgan’s desires weigh little in the matter. Sir Kyrielight can not make Morgan better than she is. Remains the question of whether Morgan is capable of becoming worse.

*****

“So, Mash is in love with you, and you’re in love with her, but you’re worried about dragging her down?”

Morgan quirks up an eyebrow. “I did not say that. I am unsure as to whether I love her or not.”

Her spouse makes a strange face. Whatever emotion this is meant to convey, she cannot figure it out. “... Anyways. I don’t really see why you worry so much. Mash wouldn’t have confessed to you if she didn’t think she could handle you.”

“Sir Kyrielight is a virtuous person. She would offer a second chance to anyone claiming to want one. It is possible she has not yet realized that I am not a person who can be saved.”

Fujimaru frowns. “You think her naive.”

“I did not say that.”

“Kind of the vibe you’re giving off here though.”

“ I did not say that. ” Ah, now is a feeling Morgan recognizes- she’s irritated. “I, more than anyone else,know the things Sir Kyrielight has endured. I am well aware that she’s witnessed humane horrors the likes of which can never be put into words. I am merely worried that she might not realize these awful things can apply to me as well.”

Her spouse doesn’t reply immediately. For a few seconds, they only stare, before folding their hands under their chin. “What is love to you?”

Morgan has no idea. Her love for Britain overpowered everything else. She does not know what it means to love a person- if that’s something she has ever experienced in the first place. “I am told it’s a feeling, or a desire.”

Fujimaru makes a noncommittal noise. “That is true. However, I would like to offer you another point of view: love is an action.”

That is a widely different definition indeed. “Elaborate.”

“ Love is a verb, first and foremost. It’s the act of looking at someone. I don’t mean with your eyes. I mean truly looking at someone. Seeing them for everything they are- the good and the bad, the flaws and the virtues, the beautiful bits and the ugly ones. It’s the act of acknowledging someone’s whole self, including the parts that are inconvenient to you, and refusing to flinch.”

“You believe love to be the act of unconditional acceptance?”

“Essentially.” Huh. How very in character of them. “When Mash says she loves you, I don’t think she believes you to be pristine clean. I think she believes you worthy of staining her hands.”

“This seems mildly worrying.”

“And who are you to dictate her choices? You’re not her queen.” That statement hurts more than Morgan thought it would, though she would be incapable to spell out why it does. “She made her choice. She chose you. You can’t deny her that. All you can do is make your own choice: do you want to take her hand?”

“There is little risk in doing so.” If Morgan is everything that is evil in this world, then Sir Kyrielight is easily all that is good in this world. If such a thing as a savior can truly exist, then this is what Sir Kyrielight is.

“You think so? She makes mistakes too, you know. She’s quite soft-hearted. She hates fighting. That makes some decisions very difficult for her. Can you accept that? And if you do: can you accept that you will see her getting hurt over this, and you will not be able to help her?”

“Obviously.” The words tumble out of Morgan’s mouth by themselves. “None of these are flaws. Why wouldn’t I be willing to smear her blood on my hands?”

Her spouse smiles. “And you say you’re unsure if you love her back.”

… Ah.

“Apologies.” Morgan gets up suddenly, straightening her dress. “It seems like I need to have a conversation with Sir Kyrielight, and it cannot wait.”

The last thing she hears as she crosses the doorstep is “sweep her off her feet!”

*****

Morgan finds Sir Kyrielight inside her room. Rather predictably, in fact- and it’s a wonder that it took Morgan so long to realize that most people do not have her schedule memorized.

“Sir Kyrielight.” She says, standing in the doorway. “Mash. We need to talk.”

She startles when Morgan uses her first name. How cute. Still, Morgan cannot let herself be distracted now. She walks through the room to sit next to Mash. “I have done a lot of thinking.”

“Ah.” Sir Ky- Mash casts her gaze down. “Come to reject me, then?”

Morgan allows herself a huff of irritation. “Do not put words inside my mouth. When I am done, you may take back your confession, you may chase me out of your room, but I will not allow you to misinterpret my words.”

She extends a hand to set it on top of Mash’s. The knight jolts, but does not take her hand away. Hopefully, this is a good sign.

“I am somewhat… disconnected, from my emotions.” She brings Mash’s hand to her chest. “My heart is that of a witch. It curses panhuman history. It is cold as the winters of my long-gone Britain.”

Her free hand reaches out to cup Mash’s face. “But it’s yours, shall you accept it.”

There is a single second of silence following her statement, Mash staring at her with wide eyes- and then the knight suddenly collides with her chest, wrapping both arms around her. “Of course I’ll take it. I’ll take everything you are willing to give me.”

Warmth spreads under Morgan’s skin. Softly, she returns the embrace. “It is most unwise of you… but most welcome, nonetheless.”

“I don’t care. I’ve been wise for too long. This is me being selfish. I want you, all of you. I don’t care if it’s rotten in here. I want you down to the marrow.”

With that phrasing, it almost sounds like cannibalism. Is this what Sir Barghest meant? When she said love could turn one into an animal? (Did her lovers feel as flattered as Morgan is? To know that there is someone out there who would rather cram her inside their ribcage than letting her go?)

“There is much I am willing to give.” With no Britain left to protect, no duty to uphold- Morgan now belongs to the stranger that is herself. She can afford to give things away. “But for now… perhaps your hand in mine?”

Mash tilts her head up, staring straight at Morgan. She’s crying, Morgan realizes. She’s smiling too, though. “Yes… yes, that would be nice.”

[flufftober]

I can’t wait for flufftober! Thank you so much for doing this 💛

My question: Is a bit of whump and maybe even angst allowed if it ends on a fluffy note? Maybe somewhat like hurt/comfort? Thanks in advance!

Hey there 😊 thanks for your ask and happy to hear that you're excited 💚

And yes, absolutely! Hurt/comfort, emotional hurt/comfort, angst, horror - it's all allowed. Whatever these prompts inspire in you, go for it, even if your characters have to suffer for a while. If you personally think it fits, if you're happy with your idea and the story, please go for it 😊

Happy Creating 💚

[mimikoolover]

So I watched the Minimoni video just now, and 2 things:

1. I am sad that Namjoon prefers MUSE over Face. Mostly because imo Face is more interesting in concept, execution and lyrics. Oh well. Personal preference.

2. The concept for MUSE is, if I understood correctly, that all the emotions of happiness and excitement JM feels are somewhat temporary. Like a crush that just goes nowhere, it's built more on how your brain romanticises a person and less on who that person actually is. We get crushes on people based on a few minutes of interactions, but at some point that feeling fades. And to Jimin, that's kinda what his entire life feels like. As a GenZ (98), I relate soooooo hard to that. There's these moments of elation, when you do something fun, but soon enough real life kinda drags you down again. The future isn't that exciting to look at and hope kinda flies out the window. To be fair, for most of my generation that's based a lot in feelings of economic fear - sth Jimin doesn't experience- but I think he experiences a lot of other emotions that equate to sth similar. Especially since SK, like many other countries tbh, kind of seems to not take enough steps forward socially to combat all the issues created by the ruling classes of the last decades (aka Baepsae). Anyway.

These feelings of good moments and happiness being fleeting doesn't mean the moments or emotions in that moment were faked. But since it comes and goes, and the lows tend to get very low (also mental illness is a big part that doesn't get mentioned directly in MMM though Jimin has touched on it before), you tend to catastrophise a lot. It's like imposter syndrome for feelings of happiness.

As a separate closing thought: a lot has been made about Who as a song and how you'd fit it into Jikook. Or how it disproves Jimin being in a happy potentially queer relationship, but imo the MMM really highlights how the whole love and crush narrative of MUSE is just a big metaphor. It's not even about JK specifically, but I think it would do Jimin a huge disservice to assume that this album he has worked on for over a year just contains very surface level songs. Yeah, they are about love and yearning, but just like "Fake Love" or any song on the Love Yourself trilogy are about loving someone else on the surface, it essentially is an album about self-reflection. It can be both. Similarly, I find it insulting of people that they assume the "she" was forced on Jimin because he isn't in the credits of the song. As if they wouldn't have re-written the whole thing if it didn't fit Jimin's vision. Don't infantilize him just because it doesn't fit with our (yes, I'm a shipper) view of who Jimin loves.

"She" is a concept, a dream and not real. In that sense, "she" reminds me of Marlena - a female stand-in for inspiration and music as used by the Italian band Maneskin. But that's a reach. And I don't want to discount the literal layer of the song either. I personally don't believe Who is this big red stamp of "hey, I'm here, I'm not queer and looking for a woman to love, please call hit me up" others see it as. But that doesn't mean that it doesn't actually reflect how much Jimin is yearning for someone to love him how he wants to be loved.

I think Jikook is real because of how they behave around each other, and from how they talk about each other. Even the latest mention in MMM, how they (and Yoongi, poor 3rd wheel) spend hours talking about music and singing screams "and they spend the rest of their lives living together, historians call them very good friends" to me. But I won't be upset if it turns out, they did have relationships for years with other people. I won't make up theories and stories to invalidate whoever they end up spending the rest of their life with - we're not larries. Even if I find GCF Tokyo and Saipan, Rosebowl, the regular carrying and the 7000 other instances very hard to contextualise in a hetero way.

Sorry for the essay but I was kind of getting sick of all the sides currently out and about, both the antis and shippers need to chill out.

I really enjoyed reading your thoughts so thank you for sharing!

see I think for jimin muse as an album perhaps was more about his journey going through creating it, it was a labour of love and something he made from scratch with a team of people. it was probably a real challenge too and it seems like he went through a lot of growth creating this album. I think it's quite hard to judge the 'real' meaning of songs to jimin and everyone having their opinions is valid but as you said we would all do well chilling out😂for me this time it almost seems like the 'concepts' behind the songs are not as deep as maybe face was but the entire process of creating muse was more meaningful to jimin.

[eliyips]

HI HELLO

First of all

*eating your X design for breakfast*

Amazing, beautiful, perfectly dork shaped, love it. (and I did not go though your blog and read every single post you made about him and his design and why you draw him the way you draw, you are imagining things surely/sarcasm)

Secondly AMMA STEAL IT. And Use It. And maybe add some of mine, but DEMN you did sooo good, that's like canon in my head now!

And third thing... You rebuild a part of the dungeon. For a drawing?? And Then painted over it??????? That's insane!!! You are insane??? I mean huge respect, That kind of dedication.... woah

And last thing: *om nom noms all of your art, why so tasty*

HELLO HI :D

Ahhh thank you for the very kind message!!! always makes me so happy to hear that people like my Xisuma design <3 absolutely feel free to steal him, I'm flattered to have people taking inspiration from my designs!

YES, I did rebuild a tiny piece of Decked Out for my drawing! It may sound a little off the walls, but i promise you, it was 100% necessary. /sarcasm

Seriously though, even if it was a bit extra, it was actually pretty easy to build the set, all considered - only took maybe an hour? I wasn't stressed about getting every detail right, so it was honestly pretty relaxing! And I think it was totally worth it for the result I got :D Here's a couple other angles of the set, to give you an idea of what all I did (ft. me, cosplaying as Xisuma)

Honestly, the most difficult part about this was figuring out the lighting! I ended up breaking a hole in the wall I had built around it, to allow the moonlight to illuminate the set, and get that nice blue glow. I had originally planned to use soul lanterns for the blue light, but soul lanterns / campfires glow orange instead of blue in all the shaders I found and liked :')

I took these screenshots with Sidurs Vibrant Shaders. I tried Kappa as well, for the colored lighting, but was pretty dissatisfied with it, besides the colored lights. I usually use BSL Shaders when playing, but I felt like the more saturated look of Sidurs was more appropriate here! :)

Here's something I didn't mention about the screenshots in the original post: something which was super helpful while drawing was having these screenshots of Tango and Xisuma's skins, taken in the same spot on the set where I planned to draw them. It gave me a really good reference point for the base colors, though of course, i had to adjust somewhat to better fit my designs for them :) Makes me curious what I could do if made versions of these skins that better matched my designs. Could be super useful for color reference in future drawings!

Anyways, thanks again for your very kind message!!! <3 hope that my rambling about Minecraft screenshots was of interest :D