#and force you to use a shaky foundation instead

[essekknits]

It’s so interesting to me that Kingsley Tealeaf, unlike any of the previous people in charge of that body, does actually take interest in the past and those who came before him.

Molly used to run away from any mention of the person who had his body before hand. Nothing good ever came out of it, and every interaction with that past was intimidating and unpleasant to him. A reminder of the shaky foundation and loneliness his life started in. The only thing he knows, and needs to know, about that person, is that they died, and got buried in a lonely shallow grave from which he had to crawl, empty and alone.

Lucien, when he came back, didn’t want anything to do with Molly either. He didn’t care for “the speck”, he wanted nothing to do with the full life he lived, with the person he was. That person was nothing. There is only Lucien. Even as he yearned for the things Molly left behind, the warmth and love that the Nein had for this thing he saw as insignificant (yearning enough to consume, to try and pull them into himself and devour them to maybe feel their warmth), he never bothered trying to understand why. He didn’t have to crawl out of the grave probably, he had Cree to help him out, but he was still the man buried once before, not too far from this grave.

But Kingsley? Kingsley Tealeaf was born in the open, surrounded by people he barely recognised, but immediately showed him care and love. He was covered, warmed, held. Even when he found words again (with help and meddling from these people, who had been there for his entire life), even when he tells them “I am not the person you wanted”, they love him anyway. They don’t leave him. They tell him about the past, and he listens. This isn’t him, this person they’re describing with so much love, but… it’s not a stranger. Not an adversary. A brother. Someone he shares some things with, someone he can pay homage to, who came before him and paved some of the way. Who, in death, gave him the gift of a stable foundation, of people he can come back home to, who can tell him about what the world used to be for this body he’s in, and who the person who came before him was, when he’s ready.

And maybe sometimes they get sad. Maybe sometimes they look at him weird, like they are grieving. They are! They are grieving a friend they lost, but they’re not trying to force him to be that person. They help him find out who he is instead. And with that security, the knowledge that he can forge a future without expectation to repeat the past, he can look back and find out who these people who came before him were. Because when he’s confident he’s his own full person, these other people aren’t a risk to his identity, just a facet of the past he gets to explore.

He called his ship the Mollymauk. The vessel that carries him into the future named after the brother who in death left him the foundation of one.

[notapradagurl7]

The Return.

Black Fem! Reader x Unique!husband.

Summary: After six months of his recovery from the brutal beating from his brother, Ronnie and finally getting everything back, the first thing Unique does is return home to you. You almost couldn't believe it but your husband was alive.

A/N: Here’s something cute about Unique, enjoy! ❤️ don’t forget to reblog, comment and like to support, remember don’t be afraid to send in a request they’re always open.

Warnings: angst, praise, rough sex, biting, spanking, consensual intimacy, use of AAVE, mention of violence, established marriage, hair pulling.

Taglist: @megamindsecretlair @satoruya @planetblaque

@playgurlxoxo @dabratzchronicles

@becauseimswagman1

@cocooned-butterfly @beenathembo @brattyfics

@hxneyclouds @henneseyhoe

@nahimjustfeelingit-writes @nayaesworld @ovohanna24

@novahreign @siqueth @avoidthings @kimuzostar @slippinninque @keyera-jackson @theblacklewinsky

@euphorichappiness10 @life-in-the-slut-house @jazziejax @ranikyani @naj-ay444

@uniqueoutlierblog @mama-2001

@fakxmbj @kaylalb @theereina @uzumaki-rebellion @blyffe @kumkaniudaku @ranikyani @luckydaye777 @foxybrownsugababe @caashmoneynae

————

Southside, Jamaica Queens. ‘93

His snow-white polished Beamer gently rolled onto the driveway of your house, with his deep brown eyes locked onto the familiar beige interior of it, the small windows covered by black curtains spanned across it, and small green bushes cornered the sides of the house.

Beloved memories of you and him remained in his mind, choosing to keep them as close as possible.

He killed the engine, the low rumble fading into an unsettling silence as he reached for the door handle. Outside, Unique stepped out cautiously, a tight grip around his emotions in the forceful slam of the door.

There he was in the flesh, Kadeem “Unique” Mathis. The man came from the dead, the man took over the corners of Queens. Asserting his control over the streets, putting the fear back in people who looked his way, or even walked the same street as him.

The soles of his beige timberlands clicked sharply against the uneven cobblestones, each step echoing into the night as he made his way toward the front door of the black lumber, its dark facade looming like a shadow.

Unique paused before the door, drawing in a shaky breath that felt heavy in his lungs. He exhaled softly, feeling the anxiety creeping around him like a tightening fog, his mind a frantic whirlpool of anxious thoughts.

His thoughts, distorted and fragmented, raced to piece together the chaotic reality surrounding him. He focused, forcing himself to latch onto the crucial details of the moment, and despite the turmoil, he found clarity.

He had severed Raquel’s connect to her drug supply, dismantling the very foundation of her business. The gravity of his actions settled heavily upon him and in the heart of Queens, intertwining with the sharpness of his thoughts.

His hand reached out, and hovering over the doorknob.

Why was he so nervous?

Unique suffered a brutal beating from his brother, Ronnie who bashed his head in with a steel pipe. After that, Unique crawled himself out of the woods, and called Early Tyler to save him that looming night.

The scars were still on the right of his head, but he didn't let it break him. Unique wanted to those scars to be a reminder of how resilient he was, and how he fought to survive.

But still, Unique wished a thousand times for it to only be him to kill Ronnie instead of Kanan, to be the one to end the madness on his own.

Ever since that night, Unique made it his mission to recover, and worked his way up. Ronnie was dead, and his enemy Raquel was still fighting hard and strong to get her spot back.

For the first time, Unique was nervous about revealing himself to you. He imagined the scenario in his head so many times, knowing that you would cry, possibly scream as if you saw a ghost. Or you would just hug him.

Words couldn't even explain how much he missed your presence, your laugh, your smile and everything else about you.

He missed you so much.

Without hesitation, he knocked on the door twice. He heard the footsteps approaching the door, Unique exhaled softly, relishing to still feel the oxygen in his lungs.

“Who the fuck is it—” You yelled but the moment you opened the door, your breath caught in your throat.

There he was, the man you thought you’d lost forever. He sported a black and red

Unique stood there, looking just as handsome as ever, with that charming smirk playing on his lips, those familiar top-row gold grills glistened, but the wear of battle lingered in his eyes.

“What’s up Y/N?” he breathed, his voice low and rough, the sound washing over you like a warm wave.

“Kadeem? Baby, is that really you?” You stepped back, disbelief coloring your voice.

“Yeah, baby, it’s me. I'm home,” He took a step forward, and the way his eyes locked onto yours made your heart race.

You stepped aside, as he walked inside the house and he closed the door behind himself, his eyes scanning the familiar surroundings. The scent of lavender and peppermint filled his nostrils.

Unique sported a red and black satin bomber jacket, underneath a crisp white tee shirt that hugged his toned chest. His dark pants tapered down to the fresh white sneakers, you could see the gleam of gold chains layered around his neck and his right ear was adorned with a gold hoop earring.

You noticed the way his hair was freshly styled, the curls cropped close but still showing off the texture.

“Home?” You whispered, shaking your head, tears falling from your eyes. Your husband wiped your tears away.

“Damn right I am, missed you like crazy, baby girl,” he said, a playful glint in his gaze.

You didn’t waste a second; you flung yourself into his arms, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you. “I thought I lost you for good, the police told me that your body was gone,” you sobbed, holding onto him tightly, as if you were afraid he would disappear again.

“Never, I ain’t goin’ nowhere, and I promise I’m here to stay. You know that?” Unique murmured into your locs, pressing a kiss to your forehead and lips.

You pulled back to look into his eyes, the scars on his head made your eyes flick toward it. “Ronnie did this to you? I heard he was dead but you look different…I mean, the scars…”

“Yeah, they remind me of where I been, but Ronnie ain’t break me,” he said, brushing your fingers over the scar on his head.

You nodded, feeling a swell of pride for the man in front of you. “I’m just glad you’re alive, Unique. I missed you so much.”

“Missed you too, baby,” he said, his voice softening. “Now, come here.” He pulled you close again, holding you tightly, as if he never wanted to let go.

“Let’s get you something to eat, I made dinner, but you can get some sleep and you must be tired,” you replied, trying to regain your composure.

“I ain’t tired, but I’m hungry for you,” he teased, a mischievous smirk on his face. “But I’ll take your love too, that’s my favorite dish.”

You laughed, a light sound that felt foreign after all the worry and dread of the past months. “You always know how to lighten the mood, huh?”

“Only for you, baby. I got time today and I got a lotta love to give, and I’m ready to show you just how much I love you,” he smirked, he leaned closer.

You felt your cheeks heat up, the emotion in the room shifting filled the air. “Unique. I want you.”

“Good,” he smirked, pulling back to look you in the eyes.

He leaned down, smashing your lips. You melted into his lips by kissing him back, your hands gripped his arms as he deepened the kiss, pouring all of his pent-up longing into that moment.

“Damn, I missed you,” he murmured against your lips, his hands roaming your waist, pulling you closer.

“Can I ask you something Kadeem?”

He nodded in response, waiting for you to speak. “Of course you can, beautiful,” he said. You exhaled before looking up at his eyes, your hand rested against his cheek.

“Were you giving me money in my mailbox in those past months?”

“Yes, it was me. I wanted to provide you while I was layin’ low, it killed me that I wasn't there for you, Y/N,” Unique confessed to you.

“I knew that I wasn't losin’ my mind, because I knew that it wasn't Raquel sending me that shit, it was you, baby,” You smirked with light chuckle.

“Baby,” you breathed, feeling the heat between you. “You have no idea how scared I was. I couldn’t—”

“Shh,” he interrupted, placing a finger over your lips. “Ain’t no need to dwell on the past, baby. We here now, and I’m makin’ sure you know how much I love you.”

With quickness, he swept you off your feet, carrying you into the room, the door slamming shut behind you. You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck as he kicked off his boots, the warmth of his body against yours.

“Now, let’s make up for lost time, yeah?” he said, setting you down on the bed. His lips ghosting over yours, peppering kisses along your lips.

“Yeah, let’s do that,” you replied, pulling him down for another kiss, taking off your clothes as he did the same.

The two of you were laid against each other naked, he hovered you and your melanated skin was kissed tenderly as he gently spread your legs apart. He looked down at you, and kissed you again but it was passionately.

With a gentle thrust, he filled you up completely and you moaned wildly, you immediately broke the kiss as he began thrusting at a faster pace, Unique still remembered how you liked it in the bedroom with him, the thickness of his dick pulsed inside you. He felt so good, “Oh..fuck!” you mewled, nails scratching at his back.

Burying his face into the warmth of your neck, sinking his teeth into your skin. Leaving hickeys in his path, Unique wanted you to feel every inch of him as if it was the first time, not the last time. “I missed you so fuckin’ much, I'm sorry, I love you,” he groaned, pulling away to look away.

“Kadeem, don't be sorry…i love you too,” You gasped sharply, your nails digging into his shoulder. Unique brought his body closer to yours to feel more of that heat, each thrust made your body quiver and twitch.

Your wetness created a pool in his lap. “Damn girl,” he grunted lowly, reaching out for your breasts and fondling them, It felt like a dream come true to him, to be finally reunited with you.

The bed creaked underneath both of you adding to the intensity of the sound of your ass clapping against his thighs, “So fucking..good,” You panted, eyelids closing shut, the cold metal of his rings made your nipples erect, and you let out a unrecognizable moan.

He fisted your locs in his hand and pulled you back in a sloppy kiss, deepening the kiss again as you responded by tangling your tongue with his, “Good girl,” he murmured against your lips, thrusting more forcefully.

The way your pussy made his dick disappear ever so perfectly elicited low groans from him, He continued to thrust into you forcefully causing your essence to pour out, each stroke fast and filled with passion. “Look at you, that pussy cummin’ already?” he teased, His hand wrapped around your neck, forcing you to look at him, grinning evilly at your reaction.

He loved the way you responded to him, the way your hips moved in rhythm with his. Unique had missed this—missed you—more than he could ever put into words. His hand delivered a rough smack onto your ass, “Y-yes! I'm cumming!”

You felt the wave of pleasure crash over you, your body trembling beneath him, your essence pouring onto his dick as you cried out his name. Unique followed suit, his warm cun spilling into you as he groaned your name. He kissed the side of your face, before he kissed your lips again.

“Damn, baby,” he panted, collapsing onto the bed beside you, both of you gasping for breath. You turned to face him, a soft smile gracing your lips as you traced the outline of his jaw with your fingers. “I missed you.”

Unique turned to you, his eyes softening as he pulled you close. “I missed you too.”

“I don’t want to ever lose you again, Unique. Promise me you’ll always come back to me,” you murmured, your heart aching at the thought of being separated again.

“I promise, baby,” he replied, his voice steady and filled with sincerity.

As you nestled into his side, feeling the warmth of his body against yours, the pain of losing him was finally gone, he was here. “Now, let’s get some sleep, and in the morning,” he said, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead.

You nodded, feeling safe and content as you drifted off to sleep in the arms of the man you loved. He brought the blanket close to your bodies before falling asleep next to you.

————-

[rs-hawk]

*cough cough*...i cant help but imagine the duchess making sure everyone gets out during a disaster, only for her to get trapped in the rubble. And the orc is the first to notice the duchess isnt anywhere in sight and goes to find her, getting her unconscious body out.

Orc Slave: Part Three

Dianthus woke you up, panic on his ethereal face. “Duchess! There’s a cave in coming!”

You try to blink away the sleepiness, your vision still hazy with sleep. “What?” You mutter, pushing yourself into a sitting position, rubbing your eyes.

The Fey quickly explains that he can feel the foundation under the manor shifting. The Dwarves from the nearby village obviously went too far west, compromising the the foundation, and with all those hollowed out tunnels underneath the manor, when it starts to fail, it will hit like an earthquake.

The blood drains from your face. Your fingers feel like they feel asleep whit the tingles in them. You try to take a breath, but your chest is tight. After a moment, you nod slowly. You can’t panic. If you do, no one will think clearly. Everyone looks to you.

“Okay,” you almost whisper the word, forcing air into your lungs. “We have to evacuate the servants first since they in the under stories, and there’s no way if the manor collapses they’ll survive. I’ll go tell my guests while you go tell the servants, okay?”

Dianthus hesitates. He’s so anxious his wings are flitting faster than you’ve ever seen them. It seems like it’s taking everything in him to not be fluttering to the ceiling. “But Duchess, I can’t just leave you,” he protests quietly.

“We don’t have time for this,” you say sternly. He hesitates for a moment longer before fluttering out of the room.

You smooth down your hair and get out of bed, pulling on your glove to cover the Orc bite and tusk marks on your arms from the attack you suffered as a child. For a moment, your mind flits to the Orc slave you recently acquired and worry pricks your brain, but you force it down. He should be in the servants quarters as well. He’ll be fine.

Then, the floor under you starts to shake. Your blood runs cold when you hear Dianthus scream. “Dia!” You shout, stumbling out of your room. He had been caught in a doorway, his wings pinned under a wooden beam.

“I’m okay, Duchess,” he lies, wincing as he turns to help you lift the beam off of his wings. He stands up on shaky feet.

You know that he’s not used to walking, so you make a quick decision. “Go get the Viscount and his wife. I’ll go get the servants.”

“You can’t! You need to get out now. The manor is already coming down,” Dianthus protests, wincing again as he tries to fold his wings against his back.

“That is a direct order, Dianthus. You get those two out and I’ll be right behind you, okay?” You feel the fear balling into a lump in your throat, but you can’t let everyone else die. The fear and panic makes your limbs feel numb. “Dianthus, did you hear me?”

“Yes ma’am,” he says quietly. He grabs your face, pressing his forehead against yours for a moment before running to the stairs. The gesture reminds you of when you were little. Tears prick your eyes, He’s always been there for you, always tried to take care of you. He’s the closest thing to family you have left.

After a moment you wipe your eyes and start hurrying down the stairs. No shoes, no outer clothes. Just your gloves and a night gown that is arguably scandalous. The servants have already begun trying to get everyone out, and most are horrified to see that you’ve come to check on them instead of getting out.

“Alright everyone, make sure you have your partner you decided on after the fire last year,” you call, trying to do a headcount, but you can’t remember everyone’s name or face.

“Mistress, you need to get outside,” the Housekeeper says worriedly. “This is everyone, and I’ll make sure they all get out.”

Your eyes flit this way and that, your shoulders relaxing slightly. The floor shifts, and there’s a few panicked cries, not no one seems to really get hurt. You nod for a moment, then do another quick scan.

“Where’s the Orc?” You ask, the lump in your throat returning.

The Housekeeper follows your gaze, shaking her head slowly. “I don’t… I don’t know, and there’s no way he could have gotten out without me seeing.”

“Get everyone out. I’m going to find him,” you say, lifting your nightgown to rush down the stairs, ignoring her shouting for you to wait.

Dust and derby are already settling this close to the cracking and crumbling foundation. You cough, pulling the collar of your dress up to cover your nose and mouth to try to be able to breathe. Now you’re kicking yourself, wishing that you had never taken this stupid position. Surely besides a title there is something else you could have gotten for saving the Prince. Now you have people’s lives in your hand, and every move you make affects them.

Outside, the Orc walks over to Dianthus. He had fallen asleep in the forge. “What is going on?” He asks gruffly, watching the other servants file out of the manor. Another quad rocks his feet, making him fall to one knee for a moment as he braces himself.

Dianthus explains the tunnels are collapsing, fussing over the Viscount and his wife, his injured wing tucked protectively against his back. The Orc huffs in acknowledgement. Then, after a moment, he asks, “And where’s the lady?”

“What?” Dianthus says, looking over at the Housekeeper and Butler, who are both doing a headcount. “She, she said that she was going to get the servants out…”

“I do not see her,” he mutters, scanning the crowd again.

The Housekeeper spots him and says something to the Butler before walking over to the Orc. “There you are! The Mistress was worried sick wondering where you went. Where did she find you?”

The Orc’s eyes dart to the entrance of the manor. “She didn’t.”

Before anyone else can process his words, he’s darting towards the manor. Easily he tosses the debris out of the way. Another quake makes the ground under his feet move, but he doesn’t stop. He’s cursing under his breath, covering his head as the upstairs start to cave in, narrowly missing collapsing on his head. He finds his way down to the servant quarters and starts shouting “Duchess!”. There’s no response.

He curses loudly again. “Why am I doing this for a stupid human? She probably realized I was not down here and got out already. Why am I risking himself for her?’

But despite his angry words, he makes his way down the stairs, having to squint his eyes to see through the dust. As he starts looking from room to room, he’s about to leave. He can’t see you anywhere. However, he hears a soft coughing from down the hall.

His loud footsteps sound like shotgun blasts as he runs down the hall, slamming his bare feet against the cobblestone. Under a small pile of stone and wood is your unconscious body.

“Y/N!” He shouts, forgetting formalities. He starts shoving it off of you, clawing at it like a wild animal. When he picks up your body, it’s with more care than he thought he was capable of. “You are alright. Everything is alright,” he murmurs agaisnt your hair, cradling you to his chest in one arm.

Using his free arm to shield your head, he manages to make his way to a servant’s entrance and get out the back of the manor. He can hear Dainthus now worriedly calling for you, and he can hear the flitting of wings, signalling the Fey is injuring himself further to look through the crowd.

“Over here!” the Orc shouts, getting you further from the manor before laying you down.

Your face is covered in soot and dust, and your clothes are torn. His eyes fall to your hands and arms- skin he’s never seen since you always keep them covered in those pristine white gloves that are now torn to shreds.

“Y/N, you fool,” Dianthus wails when he rushes over, a mix of a stumbling fall and a falling fly. He drops to your side, pressing his ear to your chest. His shoulders are rising and falling rapidly before he starts to calm down. He looks up at the Orc, tears now pouring down his angelic face, his ears twitching back. “She’s alive. She’ll be okay.”

The Orc is still staring at the obvious Orc bite and tusk marks on your arms. He blinks slowly, finally looking up at Dianthus. “Good… That is good.”

[etherfabric]

How to grow from your roots

Choose a pile by which picture you resonate with the most.

If your mind is too busy to clearly decide, take a few deep breaths, and use the finger of your non-dominant hand to hover over the images. One will give off the most subtle yet prominent signals, like tingles, a magnetic pull, or temperature. This is your pile. Multiples are also possible.

You are the ultimate authority over your life. I merely provide my perspective. Sometimes the Universe lines you up with something that doesn’t resonate with your truth, so you have contrast to find out what does. Never give away your power.

Pile 1

Judgment, The Devil

Be honest about what you really need - not what you could make do with if forced to by your fear of causing a commotion. You need to speak up about what makes your heart sing, what makes your belly full, your day a bright one instead of a dull one, your relationships something you cherish instead of feeling suffocated by them. No matter how big. But you can start small. "You want something to drink with that?" No, actually, I don't. Thank you. "Need anything from the store?" Yes, actually, this kind of tea, last time you brought the wrong one. I like the chamomile, not the nettle one. "Can I call you back?" Yes, but after 8PM I won't answer. I want to watch the new episode. "Can I borrow that?" No, I get scared when other people have it. Sorry.

It might feel like being a diva the first times around, and the anxiety about what people might think will tank the emotional gain initially - but wait until the smoke settles, and nothing dreadful actually happened. Plus - you got your thing! Yay! That's the stuff. Whoever shames you for that is just too accustomed to your placation, and will surely find another comfort soon enough.

Pile 2

The Sun, 6 of Swords

Believe that you deserve what you already have, then you will have no qualms expecting the next blessings. What seemed presumptuous in your old mindset is suddenly the only logical turn of events. Of course I will meet someone. Of course they will like me. Of course I will get what I need. Of course I will accomplish my version of health. If you feel comfortable with the idea, imagine roots or lightbeams shooting down from you into the core of the Earth. You belong here. Life gave you what you have. Of course you deserve it. You are part of all of us, and we want you to be content and fulfilled. It's safe to continue. It's safe to want more. Because there IS more for you. Just like you got everything you already have. It's yours to enjoy. Not your foundation is shaky - your knees are trembling. Find comfort, find relief, and see how it carries you like it always has.

Pile 3

7 of Wands, 6 of Swords

You have forgotten what you are actually capable of. The last season asked different things of you than what you need to bring to the table now. But it's nothing new, or necessarily complicated - you already got it in you. It's like you are not even looking in your closet for something appropriate to wear, because you just decided it's all shit anyways, so don't bother opening it. You got your defenses up, because being small was safe so far. But now, the old skin starts itching. Tear it apart! It's not as fragile as the fresh pink one you had to grow tenderly after the wound. This one is dry and flaky, and begs to be shed by movements you didn't dare to do for a long time. Find a situation where you can prove yourself to yourself. See it with your own eyes that you are a new version of your old self, and capable of everything former and beyond.

Pile 4

5 of Pentacles, Ace of Pentacles

Your darkest times are begging to be included in your story. Not to drag you down - to elevate you! Look at what you survived! What you came back from! You don't celebrate this enough. You live the life of someone else, someone ordinary, someone with only happy days. You should carry yourself like the force you are. You should command the respect you always had for yourself to keep fighting, trying again, getting up sooner or later, and be it just to go to the toilet. You don't know the weight of your life because you always carry it, but it would crush others. That is something to be proud of. That is something giving you the vigor you are looking for to get what you want, become who you see before your inner eye, and live the life that calls to you. You are not daydreaming - you are finally coming to your senses.

■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■■

[exquisink]

Make That Double, Ch8 - Yan!SatoSugu x Fem!Reader [AO3]

Word Count: ~7K

Warnings: non-con, exhibitionism, double penetration (in one hole and in both), mommy kink (geto calls you mamma), sex toys like dildos and nipple clamps mentioned

For more reasons you can’t wrap your head around, Geto has become far, far kinder to you.

And you know what that means.

You can’t fuck this up again.

Yes, while men can be easy to manipulate… Geto seems to be smarter than you give him credit for, as well. That’s YOUR mistake. You realize that, and now you have to conjure a new way out but that doesn’t mean you can’t poke and prod at what seems to be a shaky foundation between Gojo and Geto. You can still play it up to your advantage. It’s gotten you out of some high-time embarrassing scenarios, like the other night when Gojo wanted to test out a pair of nipple clamps he’s found while online shopping. One glance at your horrified expression and Geto refuses to entertain the possibility, even after Gojo profusely begged him to let him try it out.

“We can try it on you, Satoru,” Geto offers with a hum. Geto settles the argument with that when Gojo seems more than pleased by the idea. Tweedledum glances at you with that irritating smirk on his face as he waves the package of nipple clamps over your face.

“Just let Princess take the wheel from here, Suguru~! But then you have to let me put them on her!”

That may have been the first time the two of them allow you agency.

Well, not the only time.

When it’s just you and Geto, he doesn’t initiate all that much. Instead, he seems to allow you a bit more room to breathe after any sessions with Tweedledum there. You can’t call sweet, because that’s one word you can’t use to describe either of those two men, but it’s…considerate enough.

It’s still not enough to sway you into a certain direction, though. Because for as much as Geto insists he doesn’t expect you to return his affections, he’s let down each time you don’t acknowledge his own perceived ‘selfless’ acts.

Again, many definitions seem to have changed over the years. Apparently ‘principled’ means not killing off people without a reason (and by people, he really means young sorcerers, non-sorcerers are ‘free for alls’). ‘Selflessness’ means not forcing himself upon you when you decline his advances, and you have made a point to decline each and every one of them if he gives you the ‘illusion of choice.’

Which, again, isn’t an illusion this time around. He really does keep his hands to himself now.

More than Gojo does, at least, which is…good enough.

On your way back to the bedroom for another agonizing evening to spend with your ‘new beau,’ you stumble across a note with a bouquet of freshly picked roses resting on the foot of the bed. Your brows knit together as you pick up the note, reading its contents.

‘Meet me out in the back. We’ll have a picnic. Just us.

-Geto, S.’

You have half a mind to rip it to shreds, but you remind yourself you can’t screw this shit up again. You have to play along.

Groaning to yourself, you slip back on your robe and step back out of the room, meeting Geto in the extravagant, botanical gardens his servants maintain to perfection. If not for the circumstances, you may have taken the time to admire the beauty and the effort put into keeping up the temple’s pristine appearances.

But this temple isn’t a paradise for you. It’s your chamber of sheer torment.

You find him near the smaller, stone koi pond and fountain, where he’s rested his picnic blanket and basket. Upon sensing your presence, he glances up and smiles at you, patting the vacant spot next to him.

You don’t say a word as you accept his invitation. This is better than everything else he’s forced you into, and you keep reminding yourself not to fuck this up like a mantra.

“I figured you wanted to get some fresh air after some time,” Geto states as he sets the utensils and plates onto the blanket. You glance over at the contents of the basket—you catch some sweets from a bakery the twins like to go to nearby. Some finger sandwiches and other interesting food items you haven’t tried before. He’s even picked up some of your usual orders, perhaps for good measure.

This can’t be good news.

“That’s nice of you, Suguru,” you reply, attempting a smile as he hands you a plate.

“Did you have a good time with the twins?” he asks, tilting his head as a fond smile plays on his lips. You’re taken aback, stumbling over your answer as he places some food items onto your plate before helping himself.

“We had a great time,” you answer, “Mimiko and Nanako can’t seem to agree on a theme for their Animal Crossing home, ,though. They kept trying to get me to gang up on the other. It’s kind of adorable.”

Geto rolls his eyes at the mention of Animal Crossing.

“They probably should have gotten their own copy instead of one,” Geto murmurs, “that would have settled some issues, but I thought it was a waste of money. I can’t remember how much money Satoru wasted on Digimon games, and I don’t want them to become ungrateful for how much money I spend on them for such a dull hobby.”

“It’s not that dull,” you laugh like it’s a nervous tick for you, at this point. “Video games are a great way for a family to bond. That’s how my family and I did.”

Why are you even trying to have small talk with him?

It feels so…weird. Like there’s this barrier. You feel like you’re trying to reach some untouchable deity when you speak to him. And in some ways that’s not all that far off. Your worlds are so different from each other.

“You never talk about them,” he remarks, “Your family.”

“Oh. Well, it’s just me now. My parents died when I was a teenager and I was an only child. I don’t really know about any other family,” you shrug, nibbling mindlessly on the finger sandwich. “But I do miss them all the time. My dad was the biggest Mario nerd, so we played all of those classic games together.”

“What was your mother like?” he asks, eyes twinkling in curiosity as he inches closer to you.

“She was like any other mom I guess,” you say, “She was a lot softer though. Like, not as strict as some of my friend’s moms…”

“I see,” he hums, “I never had a close relationship with my parents. As you can imagine, I was born into a family who didn’t have sorcerers. They didn’t try to understand what was happening to me.”

That’s kind of sad…

“You’re making quite an effort for the twins to have a normal family.”

Yeah. Yet another definition which has changed…

“My girls deserve everything I never had,” Geto replies, smiling. “I can’t change my or their past, but we have a future to look forward to together.”

Maybe in another world, you may have found this truly admirable.

But this isn’t that world.

“How’s the food?” he asks quickly to change the subject, and perhaps to alleviate the tension growing between you both.

You glance at the crumbs in your hand.

“Good,” you murmur, “Fantastic. Like gourmet.”

Geto’s smile widens.

“I had the chefs prepare it special,” he explains, “But while I was out with the girls I picked up some of your orders. So help yourself.”

He gestures to all of the items laid out on the blanket.

“Of course,” you reply finally, ignoring the twist in your gut. “Thank you.”

Awkward, you muse to yourself, your lips forming a thine line.

“I really want you to be happy here,” Geto speaks up again.

Your head snaps up at that, eyes widening.

“Huh?”

A calloused hand rests on your cheek.

“It’s true,” he goes on, the hand sliding to your shoulder. He squeezes gently. Reassuringly. “While it’s best you don’t disobey me, I don’t want you to be afraid of me, either. You’re part of the family.”

What a joke. He should petition for the greatest comedian of the year if he actually expects this…

“That will take time,” you manage to bite out, your words sharper than intended but does he expect anything different? Does he honestly believe that you, after everything he has done to you, may accept this with open arms without a single complaint?

He must be out of his mind.

He pouts at that, retracting his hand (smart move, you were tempted to bite it off).

“I understand,” he sighs in defeat. For now. “It’s like I told you, I don’t need you to return my affections.” Liar. “Your cooperation is more necessary than that.”

“I know.”

He leans in to press a chaste kiss on your lips. Every time he does he tastes of fire and brimstone. Of toxins seeping deep into your skin, contaminating your body. You aren’t in love with him, and you never will be; that much you are certain. You have been dragged into this nonsense by some rotten stroke of luck, and yes, you can’t change the past, but you can see to the future.

And you don’t want a future with him.

“My little dove,” he purrs as he pulls slightly away, eyes half-mast as he takes in your features. “I wish you could let me in your world.”

There’s no chance for that.

“But I suppose I have to settle with this for now,” he continues, hovering his lips to the crook of your neck.

You flush, furtive eyes darting to either side. Out here in the open?

Why are you even surprised?

“Suguru,” you start, resting a hand on the back of his head. “Not now.”

“But no one will see,” he mutters into your skin, inhaling your scent. He smiles upon recognizing something—notes of caramel and marshmallow and amber. “You used one of the perfumes I bought you.”

Well, yeah! Of course you do. No one likes to stink. And you don’t have many options here.

“Suguru please,” you try again, and Geto makes a sound, before retracting himself from you. He still hovers close while reaching for a pastry to present to you.

“Very well,” he concedes, cutting a piece of a strawberry crepe and bringing it to your lips. “We can settle on this.”

You open your mouth and let him feed you. The rush of strawberry filling overwhelms your taste buds, but you like this better than his lips on yours. But you speak too soon, his lips finding yours again as soon as you gulp down that bite. His tongue chases remnants of that lingering taste and he hums, pulling away with a little playful nip with his canines.

“You make these sweets tolerable,” he chuckles, darting his tongue between his lips to catch any remnants of your taste.

Nasty, you think, your face falling at he sight. Ugh. Maybe it helps a little that he’s objectively gorgeous, but since he’s the kind of man he is, you can’t give him the satisfaction of even entertaining the idea that he’s objectively attractive. You try to ignore the way your heart kind of flutters whenever he glances at you with those little jewels of amethyst for eyes or whenever he draws near you to steal a kiss. It’s only because objectively, yeah, he’s attractive. That makes this a bit more bearable. Nothing more than that, right?

This is kind of pissing you off a little… what the HELL is going on in your head now? What kind of bullshit is it trying to spew at you!? Have you lost your goddamn mind?

“I need more, Mamma,” he drawls, as he sets aside the plate, digging his fingers into either side of your waist.

“Suguru…” you whimper, as his face draws close to yours and you try to crawl away. That’s asking for a death penalty here but you can’t help it. “Not out here.”

“I’ve been patient with you, Mamma. Let me touch. Satoru’s been getting all the fun, and you know how I feel about that. We came to an understanding about that, did we not?” he trails kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, and your fists clench tightly, resting on your knees.

“Ah-hem, Geto,” Suda’s voice interrupts and saves you from certain torture. She approaches the both of you, clipboard in her arms as she focuses more on the text on the page rather than what’s transpiring in front of her. Perhaps she’s witnessed more than she wanted to. “I hate to disrupt your private time, but your presence is needed. We have acquired the scammer who tried to keep money from you.”

“Ah, I’m sorry, my dear,” he sighs as he pulls away, rising to his feet. “Duty calls, but we can continue this later.” He turns to his secretary. “Suda, you can remain with her until I return.”

“Yes, Geto,” she replies, straightening her posture as he brushes past her with a displeased look on his face. Nothing grinds his gears more than conman, speaking as if he isn’t a conman himself.

He’s such a fucking hypocrite; you’ve definitely noticed.

When it looks like Geto is gone, you glance up at Suda with curiosity twinkling in your eyes—and a touch of wariness as you feel with the rest of Geto’s goons. Her wavy pink hair cascades around her heart-shaped face and her dark green eyes stun you, resembling little jewels. She stands tall and proud like a runway model, and can probably give one a run for their entire career and salary if she ever decides to go that route. You can’t help but admire another woman’s beauty—even if she probably wants nothing to do with you like everyone else around here seems to. They seem to share similar ideas when it comes to non-sorcerers: they’re scum and are better off eradicated.

She huffs, scrunching her nose in distaste as she finally addresses the likes of you. “I don’t understand what Geto’s doing with you, but as much as I don’t like it, I’m here to help a sister.”

Your ears perk up at that. That’s something you don’t expect, but it’s a welcome surprise, indeed.

“Men abusing their power over us is nothing new,” Suda remarks in a rather snide tone, but you expect nothing less when it comes to such subject matter. And of course Geto is involved. “I’d have liked to believe Geto was different in at least that regard.”

It’s a sad, but cold, hard, truth: men may swing their swords around and pound their chest like gigantic gorillas, but in reality, they’re as frail, weak, and vulnerable as chimps out in the wild. Geto isn’t removed from this fact; neither is Gojo. Neither is any other sorcerer who happens to have male anatomy.

In the end, it’s their most fatal flaw.

At least Suda understands that as well as you do.

“Why work for him, then?” you ask, your curiosity piqued.

She shrugs, staring off into the distance. “Good living, I guess. Better than the dump I came from where guys would harass me all the time. He doesn’t come near me. Not like that. Just expects me to organize this circus of his.”

She gestures to the general area of the temple. Well, she’s not entirely wrong in that department—it’s decent living. Never mind the fact that her boss is a raging lunatic which apparently she’s more than aware of herself.

You tilt your head, processing the newfound information like it’s a software update. Interesting.

So even Geto’s goons know he’s not all that, either? Then what the hell are people doing here, other than for the good pay? Just for the shits and giggles? Maybe there’s got to be some other things they might benefit from in aiding a maniac like him…

“And I guess some things, I owe to Geto,” she finishes while adjusting flyaways in her hair after a gush of wind rushes by. Ah. There it is—a sense of obligation then. “But this can be between us. Even if you’re not like me, you’re still a woman.”

She doesn’t need to finish that statement. You fill in the blanks yourself. Women protect other women, and that’s that.

Even if Suda is ultimately loyal to Geto and whatever this vision of his is—it still doesn’t really add up to you, but then again, as Geto and Gojo love to preach to you, these are matters far above your scope of understanding.

“Thank you,” you murmur as a little smile plays on your lips. This is the most hopeful you’ve been since this whole thing went down, and knowing someone has your back is good enough for you for that very moment.

“Besides,” she adds, resting her clenched fists on her hips. “You being here just isn’t right, anyway. Whatever Geto wants with you, it’s for his personal gain, ultimately. I probably shouldn’t question him, but he does make a lot of questionable choices.”

Your mind flashes to when Miguel tells you something similar.

You flash her another smile. She manages a small one herself before her mask comes back full force. She strolls over to one of the benches and takes a seat, crossing one leg over the other as you both wait for Geto to return. This time, the silence is a little comforting. You fiddle with some of the remaining food on your plate, finally feeling some semblance of relief wash over you because maybe, maybe, you have fnially found your ticket out of there.

Geto finally returns, moments later, that displeased look still etched on his face as he tuts at the current situation to Suda.

“Rich men can be so foul,” he scoffs, shaking his head. “Not including certain people, of course.”

You know who he means.

“What did you do with him, Master Geto?” Suda dares to ask as she rises to her feet, hugging her clipboard to her chest as she maintains an air of a professional secretary. She can flip that on and off; it reminds you much of yourself when you were still working at that bakery that had since gone out of business for obvious reasons. All workers and customers mysteriously dead, you going missing as a result. You are also presumed dead or missing to the public. That can’t look good for someone’s business if they want it to skyrocket.

“I let his curse do away with him,” he answers smoothly with a dismissive wave of his hand over his head. “If that’s all, Suda, I’d like to be alone with her now.”

Suda gives a curt nod before twisting on her heel and sauntering off. Thus far, Geto has no suspicions with you or her, but you stay on your guard nevertheless. Geto always has something up his sleeve.

Once you’re left alone with him, Geto glances down at you with a mysterious smile. You ignore the fear pricking at your insides like toxic barbs. Your hand rests on your stomach as you will yourself to relax. You have backup. You have an ally. That should have you rejoicing and dancing in glee but instead you’re still coiling every time Geto so much as glances at you?

Yet you can’t find yourself faulting yourself for that either. The man is goddamn terrifying in his own right, and he has full control over you.

But not for much longer. You just need to hold on, for just a little longer. You have already settled on having to play the long game here. Don’t get discouraged.

“Now with that interruption out of the way…” He returns to his spot next to you. “Where were we?”

“Watching the sunset,” you reply as he tries to inch himself closer to you.

Fight back. Any way you can. You remind yourself. You force down any and all emotions combating against each other in your head. They quiet down the moment you try. You try to imagine something more peaceful and serene than something like this—anything else sounds good right then. A nice trip to Paris, far away from a country where Geto and Gojo resides, enjoying a baguette and hot chocolate while someone serenades you with a violin performance.

Anything is better than this. Anything. You can’t believe how your life has gotten to this point.

Frowning, Geto glances up at the sky. The sun has just begun to set, just a blinding, shining gold glob amid a pink and blue sky.

“It is a lovely sight,” he muses, before his gaze flits back to you. “But nothing beats the sight I have right here, beside me. You truly are a work of art, my dear.”

Ah. More pretty lies. That seems to come as natural as breathing to him.

You know better than to fall for anything he says or does. They never align.

The picnic continues in a tense silence. You do appreciate the pastries he picked up for you, helping yourself to that brookie you’ve been eying for a while. Geto just watches you, content just being next to you. He doesn’t try to touch you again, which you thank the stars above for, but that’s going to be short-lived the moment you go back to the bedroom with him. He can’t control himself for all that long.

After the sun fully sets beyond the horizon, Geto gathers the items and retires with you back to bed. Instead of his servants attending to you in the restroom, he decided to take their place, preparing the shower while attending to his own business. He ties his hair long, flowy hair up in a bun as he changes into a pair of silk indigo pajamas.

You slip out of the shower, wrapping a towel around your frame and he approaches you with a bottle of lotion.

“May I?” he requests with that same, dangerous smile that you know it best not to anger.

You’re not allowed to refuse.

You settle onto the edge of the tub connecting to the shower, removing your towel and allowing it to slip to the marble tiled floor. Geto starts massaging the lotion into your shoulders, slowly and softly moving down your back.

“Soft,” he praises in a little whisper, pinching a little area. You wince.

“Am I doing a good job, Mamma?” he purrs into your ear as he moves to your arms and to your breasts and stomach.

“Yes, darling, you’re doing so good, taking care of me.”

Such lies feel like toxic barbs piercing your skin.

“Does that mean I get a reward?” he asks, swirling his tongue around a nipple. Your breath hitches.

“No,” you bite your lip, grimacing at what you’re about to say next: “Good boys are supposed to do what they’re told.”

“Then what else must I do, Mamma?”

He flicks the tip of his tongue around the stiff bud, making your throat tighten. Your hands grip the edge of the tub. His hands snake up your meaty inner thighs as they stretch apart, his palms resting just before your intimates. Slender, calloused fingers brush against your skin, inching closer and closer to your nethers where he has already lubed up. Two fingers tease your outer lips, pressing them together and from the corner of your eye you see his toothy, pleased smirk as he pries your lower lips apart. The cold air hits your sensitive skin and you hiss, tightening your grip on the edge of the tub until your knuckled whiten. Your legs begin to tremble, and he gasps in delight, falling to his knees on the ground and marveling at the sight of your flushed pussy glistening in a light coat of your arousal.

He licks his lips, leaving his tongue sticking out at the corner of his mouth as a finger easily slides into your entrance. A shaky gasp leaves your parted lips.

His finger sucks itself inside your pussy up to its knuckle. He coos as you wriggle a bit in your place.

“Shall we take this somewhere else more comfortable, Mamma?” he grunts, dipping another finger inside with a purr. “Let me get you to come once and then we can take it back to the bedroom.”

He steadies you, using his free arm snaking around your waist as he picks up a faster pace. Gentle pumps but his speed picks up each time. He groans at the feeling of your walls closing around his fingers, desperate to suck him in further, and you clench your teeth, failing to conceal your desperate whines and gasps as you can feel something inside rising, rising, rising…

“Come for me, Mamma,” he grunts, “Aren’t I being so good for you? I can always be this good. I want my Mamma to be happy with me.”

Your orgasm comes like a tight thunder clap, seeing setars behind your eyes, and you gasp out, panting as your body comes down from that high. He lets out a satisfied, arrogant little huff at his handiwork before scooping up your naked form into his arms, carrying you back to the bedroom and resting you on the plush mattress.

“Good,” he praises with a low, sultry purr as he gazes at you with that smoldering look in his eyes. His violet eyes glint with mischief and ulterior motives as he pries your legs apart, keeping them spread for him as his fingers toy with your soaked, flushed folds. “So good for me, Mamma. I just want to make you feel good.”

You shut your eyes, wishing this would end but it doesn’t seem like the torment ever does for you anymore. The minute you feel his lips kiss up either of your thighs and it’s over. He takes and takes and takes; it doesn’t matter.

You just need to hold on. Just for a little longer.

Just hold on for a little longer.

In the following few days, Geto tries to be a little more considerate of your needs. You know it’s not going to last long like all of the other times he let his desires take over, but you still are going to take advantage of the time he allows you to breathe. You’re found in the common room with the twins as they engage in a handful of classic board games. It’s a rainy day and they find they’ve grown tired of video games and want to give themselves a little detox from electronics (apart from some special condition for Nanako, which you’re a little confused about). Geto is more than happy to entertain this and watches with fondness in his eyes as Nanako bests Mimiko in another Chess match.

You are seated on the couch next to him, observing the sight yourself. You don’t have much to do in these situations—you have tired the magazines stacked under the low coffee table, and you haven’t the attention span to try out one of Geto’s long-spanning epic fantasy series. You’re running out of things that might stimulate your mind for the better, and you don’t like the sound of it. There’s only so much you can do in a situation where much of your agency has been taken away from you.

You have come to realize the longer you’re here the more time no longer matters. All that matters is just trying to find that opening, which you already have some semblance of when Suda dropped that bomb on you the other day. You just have to find another opening.

Geto calls your name and you’re ripped out of your thoughts. Somewhere you’d rather be than in the present moment.

“Mimiko was asking if you wanted to play a round of Chess with her,” he tells you, “You look a little bored.”

Yeah. Painfully, you think to yourself. It does kind of get old being your sex doll when it’s just us and then some weird nanny for your girls.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll be a challenging opponent, but sure,” you reply as you take a seat by Nanako, who peers at you with a gleeful smile on her face.

“I can always sneak ya a few hints,” she giggles, “Mimiko kind of sucks at Chess anyway…”

“Nanako, that’s rude,” Mimiko chides, her face etching an expression of irritation that oddly mirrors Geto’s. Guess they do pick up a bit after their adoptive father…

“Sorryyyyy but you know I’m right!” Nanako quips while clapping excitedly. Mimiko rolls her eyes as she resets the Chess board for a new game. You can’t help the little smile on your lips while watching the interaction.

Oh, they’re definitely sisters.

Geto has no problem watching over the three of you as you entertain them with a few rounds of Chess. The first time you play against Mimiko, you lose, more on purpose because you realize you remember how to play the game better than you thought. Then you alternate, going up against Nanako, who beats you fair and square. She is a natural at this game, for sure. Rinse, lather, repeat. You win some rounds (mostly against Mimiko). You lose a lot of rounds.

Getting back into classic board games does help alleviate the boredom a little. Afterward, Nanako and Mimiko switch to Jenga, a game you haven’t touched since your own childhood. It brings so many memories flooding back to you and suddenly you wonder why all of your dreams have been taken from you. As much as these girls deserve a functioning family, you want a functioning family of your own, not manufactured like this. Not when you have been taken away against your will. You try to silence these thoughts threatening to bubble forth, focusing on building the tower and not letting it topple over.

You shouldn’t let yourself topple over with your own raging thoughts, either.

“Mom?” Mimiko addresses you with a concerned look on her face.

You freeze. She…she really calls you that now, doesn’t she? How long has it been since you have been here now? You have lost track of time. After all, time here doesn’t matter for you. Not when you have gone through the same routine again and again and again. It’s madness.

“Yes, love?” you ask, trying to sound as motherly as you can because you can feel Geto’s cold stare searing into the back of your skull. You don’t want to anger him, and you don’t want to make them feel like they’re wrong in addressing you that way. It does feel wrong, to you, but that doesn’t matter. They don’t deserve to be in the middle of this.

“Are you happy with us?”

Your jaw drops for a moment but you close it immediately.

“What has you thinking about that?”

“We’re just wondering,” Nanako pipes in while nudging your shoulder. “You’ve been with us for over a year now! Crazy, right? So… does this mean you’re really going to stay with us? That you like Mr. Geto?”

“Do you like being here with us?” Mimiko adds onto the myriad of questions Nanako is bombarding you with and you don’t know how else to respond.

“I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” you lie with a smile. “I’m so happy to call you girls my daughters.”

“We love you, Mom,” Nanako says, pulling you in for a hug. Mimiko follows after.

“We love you,” Mimiko parrots.

“I love you both too.”

It’s another lie.

But one that won’t get you killed in the end.

The next time Satoru visits, they don’t go all that easy on you. As if they ever do regardless of what promises they spew out of their assholes for mouths.

Satoru’s handsy as usual, roughing up your breasts and biting everywhere on the sensitive skin and laughing every time you yelp or shriek from the sharpness of each bite. Geto wastes no time entering your pussy while Gojo explores every inch of your body, licking and kissing every area of exposed skin. Geto makes you come three timed before pulling himself out and disposing of that last condom while Gojo adjusts you, leading you to sit on his lap. You don’t even bother to try to wriggle or squirm because you’re no match for two grown men. Two grown men who possess abilities beyond your own comprehension. If you dare try, they may not hesitate to be meaner. Crueler.

“Ooooh, Princess, my pretty baby,” Tweedledum purrs into your ear. “You’re being so good today.”

Tweedledee behind you just hums as he approaches the two of you, vibrator in hand. “She knows we only want to take care of her, Satoru. She understands.”

This time, they still don’t insert both their dicks at once like they have entertained before, even teased and terrified you with before, but Satoru manages to squeeze a dildo alongside his cock while taking you in the ass and Geto rests a vibrator on your pussy at a moderate setting. It’s all to get you stretched out and perfect and ready to take them both in that damn hole or even in your pussy. Someday sometime soon but likely not today. They can’t stop thinking about it.

Even if Geto recognized your hesitation at first, he eventually caves to his own desires like he always does.

You cling onto Gojo’s shoulders, biting down hard on your lip because the stretch feels so wide with that mild burn yet it somehow doesn’t compare to the stretch you feel from Geto’s size by itself.

“Satoru,” you squawk like a bird and he just laughs, hand coming down to smack your ass before fondling one of those fatty cheeks of yours and making you whine again.

Geto pumps the dildo inside of you and Gojo pumps his cock in tandem. The vibrator on your pussy grinds against your clit and folds and you’re not sure you can take much more.

“Fuck, Suguru, she’s so tight,” he growls, low and guttural as he kisses into your neck, increasing his erratic pace and waiting for you to come so hard on his cock that your pussy splatters everywhere. His eyes roll back as he reclines his head onto the back of the couch; his grip around you tightens. Geto hasn’t stopped with his dextrous hands working both your dripping cunt and ass. Your juices splatter onto the ground and leave behind a large puddle beneath you. Geto slides the vibrator close to your entrance and you shout, your ass walls clenching around Gojo’s cock and the large pink dildo pumping inside you. It hurts, fuck it hurts, your head is spinning.

It’s too much. It’s too much. It’s too much. And they don’t care!

“You’re being so good for us, little dove,” Suguru purrs in approval. “Not making a fuss, letting us take care of you, because you know we’re only doing this so you can handle us, hm?”

“Y-yes,” you wheeze out, “I-I want to be good for you, Suguru…”

“Good,” he says as he switches off the vibrator. You’re relieved at first until he lines the tip of his protected cock to your entrance. He presses a kiss to the crown of your head. “Then you’re ready for us both now.”

He chuckles darkly as he slips the head into your entrance, and you hide your face into Satoru’s chest, panting heavily. Geto has enough of a conscience to remove the dildo moving alongside Gojo’s still fully rigid, stiff cock as he fucks into your ass again.

Geto kisses into your shoulder and moans.

“You’re taking me better and better each time,” he drawls, taking his thumb to draw circles around your stiff clit as he keeps a gentler pace than Satoru does when entering you. While he still doesn’t shy away from taking what he wants, he still finds it in him to be a little kinder. Just a little. If you can call any of this kind.

“Satoru,” he calls, bringing the dildo that was just in your ass to Satoru’s lips. He opens up willingly, allowing Geto to fuck it into his mouth and get remnants of your taste off of that piece of silicone. Your heart twists in disgust from the act. You shouldn’t even be surprised anymore but they do everything to get each other off with you.

Gojo slobbers over that dildo like he probably does over Geto’s cock whenever it’s just them. Some of it even splatters onto your shoulder and Geto is ‘considerate’ enough to swipe it off with his thumb. When it’s the three of you, it seems more like a competitive game between them—see who can make you come more times, see who can make you come faster, see who can make you beg or scream or cry for mercy, etc. They’re not as interested in getting all over each other (though they still do, doting on each other to the point it makes your whole body shudder, riling each other up in any way they can).

The two come practically in unison but they don’t stop until you find yourself coming two, three more times.

But apparently, the torture is not ending there today after they slip their spent cocks out of you.

“Those nipple clamps last time sure were fun,” Gojo suggests while smacking his lips at the thought. “Your nipples were so hard. So perky and perfect. Just like the rest of you.”

As if to rub salt in the wound, Gojo traces his finger around one of your nipples before pinching it, making your breath hitch. You’re too tired to try to fight them off; it’s not like you ever win anyway.

“Satoru, what did I say about picking on her?” Geto scolds but his tone sounds more amused than ever angry. But you know later those fits of jealousy or rage come out at the most random of moments, and though you have known better than to try to initiate anything with Gojo again, Geto can easily twist any situation in his favor if it means he can justify his punishments. However he chooses to exact them on you.

But he never really hurts you. Not really, no.

Geto always just finds a way to repurpose his cruelty.

Gojo huddles you close to him, flashing yhou that irritating grin of his you wish you could rip straight off his face but you can’t fight two grown men. You’re helpless in these settings. And you’re so tired of being helpless.

But that doesn’t mean you still can’t find other ways to bend and shape this all to your advantage, however small.

“Suguru,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him. “Need you.”

Satoru quirks an eyebrow at that. “What’s the matter, Princess? You tired of me?”

He can’t help but snuggle you closer into his bare chest and you drag out an impressed sigh. This is your chance; this is the only way you can get under their skin at all because you just have to remember their one fatal flaw.

“Satoru,” you murmur, “I thought you were nice. Suguru can be so much nicer than you.”

Satoru’s eyes flash at that and he almost looks pained by your rejection. “What? But baby…”

“You heard her, Satoru, so respect her wishes,” Suguru interjects with an icy stare as he scoops you up into his arms instead, casting a genuine smile at you, like he’s pleased with your submission. “She knows who best takes care of her. Don’t you think?”

You wish you could smirk yourself. No way are you ever going to truly submit to either of these pieces of shit.

Gojo scowls at his lover, before flashing a worried look at you. For some reason, he’s not buying this sudden shift, the sudden shift in preferences, but if he had half a working brain cell he’d understand that you favored neither.

“You can’t honestly expect me to believe Suguru’s actually been treating you better than I have, Princess,” he pouts while crossing his arms over his chest. “Don’t we have something special, too?”

“Of course you both do,” Suguru interrupts again, then coos at you while you tuck your head into his shoulder with a faux look of love in your eyes. “But you remember the initial arrangement. She belongs to me, first and foremost, Satoru. All you are is part of the package.”

Gojo huffs at that. “Ugh, fine, you’re right about that, but come on, Princess, don’t you like me more?”

“I like you both just fine,” you mumble, “But right now Suguru’s being nice. You have been kind of mean lately Satoru.”

Suguru’s smile widens at that, nuzzling his face into yours before his lips smack against your cheek, and it’s an unsettling sight, indeed. You almost wonder if what you might encounter following this might be worse than if he decides to punish you for appearing to favor Satoru over him. The tension between the three of you builds with each passing second and you wonder if you should attempt to diffuse the situation but you have already dug your hole. You might as well keep digging until you find what you’re looking for.

Gojo lets out another petulant sound like the manchild he’s proven himself to be, far more so than Geto.

“I’m sorry about that, Princess. I’ll…I’ll work on it,” he replies, his lips still curled into that pathetic little pout as if he thinks that might do something for you.

However, it seems to for Geto, and that’s enough for you. Geto reaches over to Satoru and sympathetically pats him on the cheek.

“You promise to be a good boy next time you come back, Satoru, and she’ll warm up to you again,” he chucklse as he adjusts you in his arms. “You should probably head back now. Don’t you have to be in the countryside for your next mission?”

“Yeah, yeah,” he grumbles, standing up and grabbing his clothes. He presses a kiss to the corner of Geto’s mouth. “Stop fucking hogging her.”

“I’m doing absolutely no such thing,” Geto counters with his lips quirking into a smirk.

Gojo only shakes his head as he disappears to clean himself up before leaving for that day. Geto mentions something in pasing about that mission likely lasting longer than usual, but you don’t really listen, shutting your eyes as Geto escorts you back to the main area of the temple.

[multi-fandom-lunatic]

booktok is odd because white women so badly want books where white people lead revolutions/save the world/make society more progressive and yet they only see this as an escapist fantasy. Like, they don't seem to actually want to change things in real life. It's really strange. Trying to change the world for the better doesn't have to be a fantasy! You can read up about things, listen to marginalised groups and put in the work!

It's because when POC lead revolutions it hits too close to home for them and forces them to confront the reality that they are benefitting from a system they should be against.

They understand that the Capitol from Hunger Games are the villains; greedy people who use the system to keep up their lifestyle while stepping on a lot of people to get there. They want to be like Katniss who's not had that privilege but had the courage to lead a revolution. But they realise that they benefit from the system like the Capitol do, and it draws uncomfortable parallels.

(Side note - I haven't read the Hunger Games, just done a little bit of Google search, and I also know that the Capitol benefit from the system by being wealthy, not nessesarily white. But. I think the comparisons are easiest to draw from HG, because they make it so absolutely clear that the Capitol is in the wrong and Katniss is right. , Also. I'm not hugely a reader of the dystopian genre, so I haven't read enough books to find a better one to use for parallels.)

They (white women) tend to find that mentioning race at all, especially to have a nuanced discussion on where racism is present and how it affects even the smallest part of their lives, is uncomfortable. It's often rooted in the (incorrect) understanding of racism being equality despite differences, instead of while embracing differences. Bringing up race brings up those differences, and that reminds them of the differences they (usually subconciously) would like to bury. It upsets their balance. And that's why bringing up race at all (even in the BookTok and similar) rocks this teetering tower of equality. But it's foundations are shaky. And it will fall.

Anyways, got a little tangent-y at the end there. And I'm writing this while quite sleep so my points might not be super coherent, and I apologise for that. I also haven't really touched on the facet of white feminism that benefits upper middle class white women, but you know. There's always next time. Still, this was very refreshing to talk about. I just find this whole concept very interesting to discuss. Thank you so much for the ask!

(Side side note: Yes! Absolutely, supporting POC should be the next course of action after this. I'm not from the US, but I hear that there's a lot of Black owned bookstores being shut down. The best way we can support POC authors is to buy their books and hear their voices.

Books with POC protags, Books by Black, Brown and Women of Colour and Queer POC books are some good places to start (these are books by POC with POC protags). I'd personally like to spotlight the Momo Arashima series by Misa Sugiura, a middle grade fantasy series with Shinto gods, much like Percy Jackson, and is also very queer. Check it out!

[maths-screaming]

Screaming at Children's Math Books

This is a page from "Maths - No Problem" Textbook 1A, part of the 2014 UK national maths curriculum. I screamed at it so hard I scared the cat.

As the name implies, "1A" is the first in the series. It begins with how to count to ten. Yeah, that's where I decided to re-start my middle-aged attempt to learn math: with the very first maths book, the one for five to six year olds. The one my own six year old niece has already mastered. That's how shaky my foundational relationship with numbers is.

Onto the screaming.

I screamed at this example in particular because I HAVE TRAUMA Y'ALL.

In second grade, our teacher subjected us to a particularly awful timed worksheet. 30 questions. 90 seconds. Every question was one of the following:

5 + 8 =

8 + 5 =

6 + 8 =

8 + 6 =

7 + 8 =

8 + 7 =

The point of this exercise was not to compute. The point was to train us to memorize the respective answers to each of these.

We did this worksheet several times over the year. We also did its subtraction counterpart (14-6, 14-8, 15-8, etc). To this day I get anxiety when I see any of these questions.

(Yes, we got graded.)

So when the little cartoon dude on this page of Maths-No Problem 1A informed me I could just BORROW TWO FROM THE 6 TO MAKE 8 AND ADD 10 + 4, I screamed.

Not because we were never taught this.

Not because I never figured it out myself.

I screamed because WE WERE EXPLICITLY TAUGHT NOT TO DO THIS. We were explicitly forced to rote memorize chunks of nonsense rather than how to see number relationships.

Do I understand why we got the timed "memorize random crap" worksheet instead? Actually, yeah. The reasoning is bad, but I get it: When you "borrow a ten" in multi-digit subtraction and get, say, 14-6, there are no more tens to borrow. You'd better know what 14-6 is.

Except there are so many ways to know what 14-6 is that ALSO let you have a friendly relationship with numbers! That are just plain EASIER and LESS PRONE TO ERROR!

I assume eventually we will get to the stuff that is hard for me because dyscalculia. So far, though, nearly all my screaming has been because it turns out my math education sucked.

[animeloverskylarmoon]

Byakuya Kuchiki (Bleach) - Noble Series 1: Our Love - Chapter 11

The whole situation was exhausting.

Yamamoto had thankfully caught wind of the chaos before too much damage was done and both captains were forced to stand down. 

Kenpachi wasn’t too happy, and you could tell Byakuya wanted to keep going.

You’d somehow managed to come out unscathed, but because of the incident, you were tasked with cleaning up the buildings they did wreck.

“They are the ones who made the mess, why do I have to clean up? That bastard.”

You were grumbling for the rest of the day. By the time the sun had gone down, you were spent and you hadn’t even done a quarter of the work.

Dropping onto your futon that night, you were certain you might actually get a full night of sleep. Between running for your life and cleaning the mess from the divisions, you were ready for sleep.

Looking up at your ceiling, you can’t help but play back your time in the academy. Kenpachi’s obsession with trying to fight you had stemmed from the rumors of your recruitment into the squad guards. Everything was so different then.

Even at that time, Byakuya was there.

He was the one who noticed, who spotted your potential, even when you were still learning your own strength.

~250 Years Ago~

“Did you hear, apparently some of the captains are actually coming to watch!”

“Are you kidding me, now I have to do well.”

The whispers among your peers were hard to miss. Pulling at your white robes, you lower your head. It took all of fifty years to get to this position and now it looks like you were barely going to scrape by, if even. While your flash step and kido’s were reasonable, the one thing you couldn’t fully grasp was-

“Next up!”

The yell made you jolt as the two trainees stepped forward, facing off each other. With their wooden swords lifted, he clapped and they started.

The sounds of their grunts and the weapons clashing was hard to miss, and you found yourself once again shifting in place.

The battle between both guys lasted maybe a few minutes before one was declared a winner. You watched anxiously as you were called to the front.

The moment you were faced against your opponent, you could see his grin. You reached for the wooden sword that was offered and just like that you could hear it.

The murmurs.

“I feel so bad for her. I heard she can’t even use a blade.”

“Are you serious? How does she intend to become a reaper?”

“She’ll be lucky if she even makes it past this round.”

It was crippling, those words, but they were true. Every training session you’d end up at the bottom. Despite the many hours of painful training that you’d put in, the very foundation of this institution was the one skill you couldn’t grasp.

The arrival of a few more guests broke your focus and the moment you saw the captain’s cloak, you could practically feel the anticipation in the room. Your grip on your sword was shaky, and your opponent looked more driven than before.

“Begin.”

He charged at you and you lifted the sword to defend, but the moment he struck, you were down. Not that you expected any different. You grunted when your back hit the floor, and he came at you again, but you flash stepped, moving behind him to strike, but your uncalculated swing had made you drop the sword and he laughed, countering with an attack of his own.

This time it connected with your stomach and you rolled to the floor. You meant to get back up, but he pointed it at your throat and you froze.

“Stay down.”

He was glaring, and you swallowed. Looking on, all you could see was looks of pity. None of them believed that you would even win.

“I’m doing you a favor. You don’t belong here, you’re weak.”

Your gaze wavered, and instead of retaliating, you just lowered your hand in defeat.

The instructor called the match, and your opponent walked away triumphantly, gaining praises from some of the others.

When you finally picked yourself off the ground, you just moved over to the other side of trainees who’d lost their matches as well.

As the minutes carried on, the matches continued. You faced and lost to six more opponents before the session was coming to an end. You hated it, the fact that you’d worked so hard only to fail right at the finish line.

It wasn’t completely hopeless, you could always apply again. But the thought of losing when you were so close, it was disheartening.

“Next up!”

The call made you flinch, and when you saw the many eyes on you, you slowly moved to the center. The guy before you was smirking.

“This will be a piece of cake.”

His words were expected. He’s already written you off. You couldn’t truly blame him. Lifting your training sword, you squared your feet, ready for instruction. Your instructor stepped forward, but before he could get a word in, he was interrupted.

“Stop.”

The calm and authoritative tone caught everyone’s attention. Even the instructor seemed surprised.

It was him.

Byakuya Kuchiki.

Captain of the Sixth Division.

“K-Kuchiki-sama.”

He bowed and when the noble made his way across the floor, you felt a bit frozen. You’d only ever seen him once before and even then you thought it was somewhat of a dream.

If you were nervous before, you’re almost petrified now. He stopped right before you and your opponent moved away.

The other two captains seemed curious.

“Your swordsmanship is terrible.”

The blunt statement caused your eyes to waver, and you could almost feel the pity from the onlookers. Maybe if you’d stood up for yourself, stood your ground, at least then he would have respected you.

All you could do was lower your head.

“Yes, I-I apologize.”

It’s all you could say.

“Put down your weapon.”

His tone was definite and without another word, you dropped it. The wood clattered to the ground. Somehow it felt like a reflection of your dreams.

“Good. Now strike that dummy with your hands.”

His eyes directed to the training dummy tucked to the side of the room.

Your head lifted in surprise, and confusion seemed to run across the room.

“K-Kuchiki-sama we really shouldn’t-” Byakuya’s eyes moved in your instructor’s direction.

“Are you questioning me?”

He shook his head vigorously.

“O-Of course not! Please continue.”

He moved back hurriedly, and Byakuya turned back to you expectantly. All you could do was obey.

“H-Hai!”

You rushed over to the dummy and anyone in the general area moved to the back of you. Clenching your fist, you couldn’t help but wonder why he made such a strange request.

You’d never really been able to land a punch on anything that was significant. There was that one face off with the hollow, but despite your intense training regiment, you’ve never really been able to repeat it. You’d coughed it up to adrenaline.

Given the fact that you were currently at the bottom of the barrel, you didn’t really see any harm in trying.

“Here goes nothing.”

You pulled your right leg back, planting your feet. When you retracted your fist and clenched it, firing at the dummy, you tried to put everything into the punch. With a yell you fired a punch, and to your surprise, the wooden dummy had shattered on impact.

The pieces of wood looked as though they had almost combusted, and gasps were released around the room when the air shifted and the force of your delivery had actually shattered the concrete foundation behind.

You gaped at the rush of air that hit your face as the rubble crumbled and a hole the size of a whale was now present. Your hair settled and the room fell silent.

The other two captains looked startled and everyone else in the room seemed almost afraid now.

“Impossible..”

You were trying to process what had just happened. Surely you hadn’t created that hole with nothing but the residual effects from a punch.

Byakuya looked back at your instructor, unimpressed.

“You are inadequate as a teacher. Her swordsmanship is lacking because her learning style is different. You should have known.”

The instructor looked frantic.

“I-I deeply apologize! It was my mistake. I-I will ensure that I fully evaluate the strengths of all my trainees from here on out!!”

“Ensure that you do.”

Byakuya’s chilling gaze drifted back to the other captains.

“There’s nothing else for us to see here, we can leave.”

The one with the pink floral robes just laughed and his partner was rubbing his neck awkwardly.

They didn’t put up much of a fight.

“Good luck kid!”

The pink cloaked captain spoke. Just like that they were walking through the gigantic hole that you’d made. Byakuya was the last to leave and you took a step forward.

“W-When I become a reaper, I-I would like to work under you Kuckiki-taicho!!”

He paused, glancing at you from the side.

All your worries, all those doubts, they felt like they had just vanished. He’d given you insight on what you needed to do. This whole time you thought all those years of training had been useless, but you’d merely been working the wrong angle.

“Do as you wish.”

That was all he said, leaving without another word. All you could do was grin. When you turned around, you pumped your fists.

“Who’s next!”

You could see the pale expressions in the room.

“NO WAY AM I FIGHTING THAT MONSTER!!”

Someone called.

All you could do was laugh.

You chuckle at the memory.

“I guess I’ve been chasing him for some time now.”

It’s a funny thought. 

[river-in-the-woods]

Do you personally believe in Asian superstitions surrounding lucky and unlucky numbers? As somebody trying to make something but unsure of how much these beliefs have an influence on me it highkey drives me insane 😭

Hi there!

I did have this same struggle once with superstitions in general. Like you, I had the thought of "Should start believing in all these things now that I'm a spiritual person?"

Superstitions are held by laypeople who have an indirect and watered-down understanding of the world of spirit. There is undoubtedly some truth in them, yes, but it is often over-simplified, incomplete or misinterpreted. Think of Plato's allegory of the cave, where the prisoners see only the shadows on the wall and not the objects that cast those shadows.

What we do as spiritual practitioners is to ponder and investigate why and how, and base our craft and cultivation on that.

Just as a layperson can tell you that aspirin reduces the sensation of pain, but a scientist can explain the chemistry of why and how it happens.

You've probably heard of iron being used as a protective metal to repel Faery Folk, right? It's a natural assumption to make that iron is somehow fundamentally harmful to fae. This fascinating post by Lailoken proposes instead that iron is in fact sacred to the Folk, and the perversion of this metal through smithing is what repels them.

Remember, that spiritual practitioners, occultists, witches, magicians, sorcerer/esses (etc) are beings that laypeople have superstitions about.

I suspect you have visited my blog because you consider yourself to fall into this general category 🙂 So ask yourself, on what basis do you believe in the superstitions of your ancestors?

Onto the topic of numerology...

If I may: what you are really asking me is, where do things get their power from?

Laypeople believe that 4 (四) is unlucky simply because it is a homophone for death (死), or that 6 (六) and 8 (八) are lucky because they are homophones for the flow of fortune (溜, and 发 as in 发财).

Is there power in this? Perhaps, from the collective psyche of innumerable people making this connection. Whether it is powerful depends on how well you can tap into that current of psychological power. I personally find the idea of homophones creating in/auspicious numbers to be shaky, so I struggle to invest much belief in it.

I do believe that there is power and meaning in numerology, though. In magic, numbers are symbols, in the same way that colours, shapes, plants, animals, and celestial bodies are.

These things have power from how they naturally express themselves in reality. Allow me to expand on this:

1 is the number of beginnings, individuality, single-pointed focus. It can be used to express both the entirety of existence or the tiniest piece of it.

2 is duality, polarity, cycles and opposite or/yet complementary forces. Day and night, yin and yang, heat and cold, mother and father. It is attraction, passion and pursuit, such as that between predator and prey, or between lovers. Hence it begins to generate movement and force.

Where 1 lacks motion because it has nothing to be moved by, 2 creates a dynamism as it strives to find balance and union.

3 is the number of innovation and creativity, born of the attraction and movement of 2. Between fire-hot and ice-cold, between Heaven and Earth, 3 is the sweet spot in between that creates life, drawing on powers from contrasting forces.

3 is the first number where stability and balance can be found (a chair cannot stand on 2 legs, but it can on 3; pyramid structures are highly stable). 3 is the number that brings a sense of space and time: length/width/height, past/present/future. Triangles are used in magic for conjuration as well as for trapping spirits.

4 creates foundations upon which all else is built. The four elements, cardinal directions, seasons, DNA nucleotides. Therefore it is a number of solidity, consistency and endurance, yet it can also mean stagnancy and obstinance. You could argue that 4 is unlucky because it can be used as a symbol of imprisonment; after all, death is a fate none of us can escape.

5 is often the number of transformation, as our five-fingered hands create and destroy. 5 brings conflict because it is attempting to break out of the solid confines of 4 (incidentally, 5 is also associated with Mars, the planet of aggression).

In East Asia, we have 5 elements instead of 4. Hence our elements work differently; they are not building blocks or foundations, instead they represent the ever-changing and dynamic forces of reality that are constantly overpowering or being subdued by each other.

Conclusion

I'm vaguely aware that numerology features heavily in Daoist magic, but I have no idea how much of what I said above overlaps with Daoist numerology and how it is used in ritual. Even so, like any esoteric tradition, it is a study of the nature of reality, and anyone can attempt to reach these revelations through their own studies and meditations.

I hope I have demonstrated that it is not so simple as 'lucky' and 'unlucky', 'good' or 'bad'. Just as it is with all things. The water that nourishes and brings life, can also destroy everything in a mighty flood.

I also hope I have been able to inspire some clarity in you on this matter 😊 good luck on the path.

[wheelstandracing]

Redefine Realism: The Steering Wheel Stand for Gaming That Feels Like the Real Deal

The Core of Any Sim Setup: A Solid Steering Wheel Stand

A high-quality steering wheel mount is more than just a place to rest your wheel. It’s the foundation of your racing rig. I used to think a racing wheel with stand was overkill until I tried drifting through tight turns with a shaky table setup. Stability, immersion, and long-term comfort come only when your sim racing stand is built for performance.

When I switched to a professional-grade race wheel stand, the difference was immediate. My lap times improved, the force feedback felt more natural, and I no longer had to constantly readjust my gear mid-race. Whether you’re running laps in Forza, Gran Turismo, or F1 24, a dedicated gaming stand for steering wheel adds that realism and edge you didn’t know you were missing.

Built for Gamers, Designed for Realism

The best xbox steering wheel stand or PlayStation-compatible rig is designed with both casual and pro gamers in mind. I’ve used mine for everything from 20-minute races to full endurance runs, and it holds up incredibly well. Features like height adjustability, angle customization, and cable management make a massive difference in gameplay.

And for those using Logitech steering wheels, compatibility is never an issue. The right steering wheel stand will come pre-drilled for models like the Logitech G29 and G920, offering secure mounting without the DIY stress.

Elevating the Full Sim Racing Experience

Let’s talk realism. A great racing wheel with stand is only part of the setup. To complete the cockpit feel, many gamers invest in a dedicated race sim monitor stand or even a wheel stand for TV. This puts your display at the perfect eye level, minimizing neck strain and maximizing that “driver’s seat” sensation.

The modular nature of many sim racing stand systems means you can expand as you go. Start with a basic steering wheel mount, then add pedal platforms, shifter mounts, and eventually, even motion systems. It’s a journey, and the best part is customizing your setup to fit your unique space and play style.

Why a Stand Beats a Table Setup Every Time

At one point, I tried bolting my racing wheel with stand setup onto a desk, thinking I’d save money. Bad idea. Tables wobble, pedals slip, and over time, the immersion breaks. A true steering wheel stand for gaming locks everything into place. That stability lets you actually feel the force feedback instead of fighting with your furniture.

It’s not just about gameplay — it’s about longevity too. Repeated strain on your desk or table can damage both your gear and your furniture. A professional steering wheel stand is engineered to support the weight and force of racing equipment, giving you peace of mind during every lap.

Designed to Grow with You

That’s the beauty of investing in quality. A modular race wheel stand grows with you, adapting to your needs whether you’re playing on Xbox, PlayStation, or PC.

The Verdict: Is It Worth It?

Absolutely. If you’re even slightly serious about racing games, a steering wheel stand is a no-brainer. From the immersive feedback to the stability under pressure, the right stand is a total game-changer. Whether you’re using Logitech steering wheels or other major brands, a proper steering wheel mount unlocks the full potential of your gear.

From someone who made the leap — from clunky desk setups to a sleek, ergonomic sim racing stand — I can tell you firsthand: it’s worth every penny. When you’re strapped in, racing down a virtual track, and everything just feels right, you’ll know you’ve found the real deal.

So, what are you waiting for? Take your place on the virtual grid with a premium video game steering wheel stand and feel the rush like never before.

FAQ

1: What should I look for when choosing a steering wheel stand for gaming?

Answer:- When selecting a steering wheel stand for gaming, focus on three main factors: stability, compatibility, and adjustability. Look for stands made from high-quality steel or aluminum that won’t wobble during intense gameplay. Make sure it’s compatible with your specific wheel model (like Logitech steering wheels or a Thrustmaster wheel), and supports your platform — whether that’s Xbox, PlayStation, or PC. Lastly, features like foldability, height and angle adjustments, and pre-drilled mounting holes make a huge difference in comfort and performance.

2: Is a racing wheel with stand better than mounting it on a desk or table?

Answer:- Absolutely. A racing wheel with stand offers far more stability and immersion compared to mounting on a regular desk. Desks often shake or slide under pressure, especially when you’re using strong force feedback settings. A dedicated video game steering wheel stand is built specifically to handle the torque and stress of racing gear. It also keeps your pedals from slipping and aligns everything ergonomically, making long sessions much more comfortable and realistic. Plus, many sim racing stand models are foldable and compact — perfect for gamers with limited space.

[unchronicles]

Rethinking Education: Are We Failing Our Students?

"Education is not the filling of a pail, but the lighting of a fire." — William Butler Yeats

When Albert Einstein observed that "education is what remains after one has forgotten what one has learned in school," he illuminated a profound truth that still resonates today. The gap between formal education and meaningful learning continues to widen, leaving us with a critical question: Are we truly educating our students, or merely processing them through a system?

🔘The Broken Promise of Holistic Education

Schools proudly claim to offer "holistic education" in their mission statements and brochures. They promise to nurture the physical, mental, social, emotional, and spiritual development of children. Yet walk into most classrooms today, and what do you see?

Students hunched over desks, memorizing information they'll soon forget. Teachers racing through curriculum to meet arbitrary deadlines. Administrators are obsessed with test scores and rankings rather than genuine learning outcomes.

The evidence of our failure is painfully clear: graduates who lack critical thinking skills, struggle with emotional intelligence, and remain unprepared for the workforce. The unemployment crisis among young people isn't just an economic problem—it's an indictment of our educational approach.

🔘Where We're Failing: Hard Truths for Educators

▪️The Illusion of Equity

We comfort ourselves with the notion that all students are treated equally in our classrooms, but look closer. The quiet student in the back row, struggling with concepts but too intimidated to speak up. The gifted child, bored and disengaged because the pace is too slow. The student from a disadvantaged background who lacks the resources to complete assignments requiring technology.

In a truly equitable classroom, a teacher might notice that Mia thrives with visual learning while James needs hands-on experience. Instead of teaching one way, they would adapt their approach to reach every student where they are.

▪️The Assembly Line Approach

When Henry Ford pioneered the assembly line, he revolutionized manufacturing—not education. Yet our schools often operate on this outdated model: standardized curriculum, standardized assessments, standardized expectations.

Consider the music teacher who tells a student, "You're just not musical," instead of discovering that this student might excel with a different instrument or musical style. Or the math teacher who fails to recognize that the student struggling with algebra might have exceptional spatial reasoning skills that could be channelled into geometry or architecture.

▪️The Syllabus-Completion Obsession

"We must finish chapter 7 by Friday!" This familiar refrain echoes through faculty meetings nationwide. But what happens when students haven't mastered chapter 6? We move forward anyway, building on shaky foundations, then wonder why structures collapse.

Imagine a science classroom where students are fascinated by an unexpected chemical reaction. Rather than seizing this moment of genuine curiosity, the teacher cuts the discussion short: "We need to move on; we're behind schedule." Learning opportunities sacrificed at the altar of curriculum completion.

🔘Reimagining Educational Practices

▪️From Compartmentalized to Connected Learning

Students move from history class, where they study the Renaissance, to science class, where they learn about force and motion, to literature, where they read Shakespeare—never realizing these subjects emerged from the same historical context and influenced each other profoundly.

What if, instead, teachers collaborated to create learning experiences that crossed traditional boundaries? Imagine students studying Leonardo da Vinci's notebooks as scientific documents, engineering models based on his designs, and writing creative pieces inspired by his approach to observation.

▪️Embracing Failure as Learning

When a student receives a paper marked with red pen corrections and a disappointing grade, what message do they internalize? Too often, it's "I'm not good at this" rather than "Here's where I can improve."

Consider the transformative potential of a classroom where a teacher responds to an incorrect answer with: "That's an interesting approach. Walk me through your thinking process." This simple shift acknowledges the value in the attempt and positions mistakes as stepping stones rather than stumbling blocks.

▪️Technology as Tool, Not Master

We've rushed to fill classrooms with tablets and smart boards, often without clear pedagogical purpose. In many schools, technology has become an expensive distraction rather than a meaningful learning enhancement.

Effective technology integration looks like the history teacher who has students create digital timelines that incorporate primary source documents they've analyzed, or the science teacher who uses simulation software to explore concepts that would be impossible to demonstrate physically.

🔘A Call for Reflection and Action

As educators, we must ask ourselves uncomfortable questions:

▪️Do we recognize and nurture the unique capabilities of each student, or do we teach to an imaginary "average" learner?

▪️Are we fostering independent thinking, or training compliance?

▪️Have we created learning environments where constitutional values are lived experiences, not just concepts in textbooks?

▪️Are we building resilience by allowing students to struggle productively, or creating dependency through over-scaffolding?

The coaching culture proliferating outside our schools exists because we've failed to meet student needs within them. The rising dependence on external tutoring centers is not the disease but a symptom of educational institutions that have lost sight of their purpose.

🔘The Path Forward

True educational transformation requires more than policy revisions or curriculum updates. It demands a fundamental shift in how we conceptualize teaching and learning.

Schools must become genuine learning organizations, where teachers regularly engage in action research, examining their practices and their impact. This means creating time and space for educators to observe each other, collect and analyze data on student learning, and experiment with new approaches.

It means elevating student voice in educational decisions, asking them regularly: What helps you learn? What gets in the way? How could this be better?

Most importantly, it requires courage—the courage to acknowledge when traditional approaches aren't working, to try new methods that might initially feel uncomfortable, and to prioritize deep learning over superficial metrics.

As you read this, consider: Where do you see yourself in these critiques? What one change could you implement tomorrow that would move your classroom or school closer to authentic education?

If we continue with our current approach, we risk failing another generation of students. The time for educational transformation isn't tomorrow—it's today. Our children's futures depend on the choices we make now.

[linkspooky]

Yuji, Alone. 

I have been saying in my past few meta that Yuji has a really unhealthy way of viewing both himself, and his relationships with others. Yuji is excellent at reading the feelings of others and empathizing with them, and at the same time terrible at processing his own emotions, a trait he shares with Geto who he is once again paralleling this chapter by choosing to stew in isolation rather than reach out for support. 

Chapter 138 does an excellent job of showing how deep these issues run, which I will explain under the cut. 

1. Yuji and Geto

If I were to explain the unhealthy mindset Yuji has by simplifying it down to one sentenence, simply stated it would be “I want to help others, but I don’t want to accept help from other people.” 

Both Yuji and Geto are so motivated by empathy they feel like they are responsible for solving other people’s problems, and they often use other people rather than themselves as a reason to move. They’re actually selfless to a fault. In that, it’s a problem in their behavior. They do everything they do for other peope, so they have no idea what they themselves want. If Gojo is someone who has a strong self image, a strong set of beliefs, an idea of what he wants to do to the world, Geto and Yuji are people who try not to think about themselves at all. 

Not only does Yuji almost never critically exam his own motivations, but he also doesn’t think of his relationships with other people. 

This is something Yaga pointed out as a danger with Yuji’s way of going about things, all the way at the beginning of his arc. If you’re doing it because your grandpa told you so, then is it really something you want to do? When you die, is it going to be your grandpa’s fault too?

Yuji is someone who seems selfless on the surface, and to an extent he is, but just like Geto that’s not all there is to him. It’s something Gojo called out early on, Geto presented himself as someone selfless, motivated entirely by using his powers to protect others, but he was also doing so self righteously. 

To clarify what I mean by self righteous, Geto believed that he was doing something because it was the objective right thing to do, but actually it was just his own personal feelings. That’s why after Riko’s death forced him to critically examine himself, he realized he didn’t want to follow the rules of Jujutsu Society. 

Both Yuji and Geto pay attention to others, but also have the blinders on in regards to themselves, and that’s the parallel right there. Yuji says he is doing these things for other people, that his number one priority is to save them but that motivation is even deconstructed in the third chapter.

Yuji’s not actually doing this for purely altruistic reasons, but for selfish ones. He wanted to do something that nobody else could do. Yuji’s life was like a vaccuum before this point. He didn’t have any real friends, or anything he wanted to do. Suddenly he had a purpose basically gift wrapped and handed to him on his lap. 

Basically, Yuji and Geto both have this schewed way of seeing other people. They thing other people exist to validate their own existences. 

To put it simply. If Hidden Inventory Geto helps weak people than he’s valid. If Yuji helps people, then he’s valid. 

Not only is the way they view themselves built around how they help other people, but at the same time all of their relationships are built up on this as well. Relationships that are built upon shaky foundations will crumble apart easily when tested. 

Geto’s most important relationship was with Gojo, they had an intense chemistry and interaction with one another like they were made for each other. They were both good at naturally balancing each other out, Geto was the one who stood up to Gojo and acted like a tether, and Gojo ackonwledged Geto as his one and only. 

However, the relationship was also built on the idea that Gojo needed Geto. Geto was only able to view his relationships with other people in that way. Geto, wants to take care of people, wants to help people. However, eventually, he was left behind by Gojo who no longer needed him as a partner in combat. On top of that, Geto awoke to a higher purpose in ridding the world of cursed energy. Geto wants to be needed by somebody in the same sense that Yuji does, so for Geto at least being needed to save the whole world in his eyes, was just more important than maintaining his relationship with Gojo. 

Which is why both Geto and Yuji’s relationships fall apart. They are great at making relationshisps, but not at maintaining them. Attention is drawn to the fact that the trio has great chemistry with each other and get along well, but they’re also terrible at communicating with each other. 

"The seats... in my life... How should I put this? I don't want my heart to be affected by people who don't have a place there. Does that sound cold? Well, I guess there are also guys like you who brings their own chair and takes a seat." Translation by Miho.

Almost literally, I don’t want anyone who’s not a part of my life to try to talk to me or tell me what to do. Also the reference that Yuji is kind of different because Yuji just kind of walked into her life unannounced and invited himself there (this is how Yuji forms relationships with everyone.)

All three of them go behind each other’s backs and keep secrets from one another. All three of them avoid direct confrontation, Nobara even says she doesn’t really want anyone else even trying to tell her how to live her life. The Origin of Obedience arc shows that Nobara, Yuji and Megumi are all good at fighting together as a team, but also questioning if they have a healthy friendship outside of that?

Any relationship takes work, confrontation, arguments and even just plain old talking about things. However, someone who is primarily insecure in their relationships will not be able to do things.  Couples shouldn’t only argue, but couples who never argue is just as unhealthy. If you are so afraid that one argument is going to end a relationship, then your relationship was fragile to begin with. 

Yuji and Geto experience conditional relatinoships. In the sense that, they are only allowed to have friends, if they are helpful to those friends. They themselves are never allowed to ask for help. It’s true that Gojo was kind of blind to Geto’s faults, but also Geto would have never asked for help. Gojo could not see, and Geto deliberately hid things from them. 

Geto always makes his relationships on the condition that he is needed. When Gojo grew more independent, Geto took that as a sign that Gojo didn’t need him anymore and deliberately started to pull away.

Because, Geto isn’t ever allowed to be the one who needs someone else. 

2. Avoidant Attachment

This is just a personal theory of mine, but I think Yuji’s issues might even center around the psychological idea of attachment theory. Especially it’s since deliberately mentioned to Junpei, that Yuji never met his mother. 

Attachment theory is a complex idea, but basically it states that attachment to other people, that is the idea to form healthy relationships with family members, friends, romantic partners is learned instead of naturally present in us. It’s a skill people develop in their formative years. 

Those who show patterns of problematic attachment in childhood will continue the behavior into adulthood unless it’s corrected, because attachment is a skill that’s developed the same as anything else. Of the four categories, Yuji and Geto most resemble this one. 

Avoidant attachment: Children with an avoidant attachment tend to avoid parents or caregivers, showing no preference between a caregiver and a complete stranger. This attachment style might be a result of abusive or neglectful caregivers. Children who are punished for relying on a caregiver will learn to avoid seeking help in the future.

Which goes further to explain how they can be so empathic towards other people, and yet the same time completely unable to maintain close relationships with them. It’s because, they avoid people at the same time. They don’t seek out help when they need it, because, deep down they view themselves as unworthy of the help. 

Geto did not immediately break after the trauma of losing Riko, it was the year of isolation after that where he slowly was consumed by his regrets. Geto got worse and worse over a period of time because he couldn’t handle his trauma in any healthy way, until he just completely snapped. 

During that time he asked himself the same questions over and over again, but Geto wasn’t able to find any kind of healthy answer to his questions because, he didn’t reach out for anybody. It wasn’t just the trauma, it was the behavior after the trauma, the decision to isolate himself for over a year. No one does well in isolation. You need other people to grow or develop. If anything Geto stagnated. Geto’s central flaw was his self-righteousness. Rather than realizing he was wrong and trying to change this flaw of his, he just doubles down and becomes even more self righteous. He goes from believing he’s responsible for protecting all the weak people, to believing he’s a superior being tasked with eliminating all the weak people in the world. So, it’s not really that Geto changed, moreso that he stagnated because he cut off all his relationships with other people. 

And isn’t Yuji doing the exact same thing right now? Yaga even points out this similaritiy between Geto and Yuji, that they try to carry every regret and burden they have on their own. 

It’s not out of selflessness that they do this though, but rather insecurity. Geto didn’t come to Gojo with his problems, because he wanted to be the strongest alongside Gojo he didn’t want to be weak. He was deliberately avoiding Gojo. 

I think it’s important to establish that Yuji wasn’t abandoned by his friends this chapter. Yuji is alone, because he chose to be alone. He’s alone because he’s avoiding both of his friends, because he’s so, so afraid the friendship will end because it’s based entirely on the condition that he be a helpful, good person.

It’s true that Yuji is genuinely worried about his friends getting hurt because of him, but look at his choices. He’s not really tackling the problem in a healthy way. He’s doing everything he can to avoid the problem, isolating himself, and just trying not to think about things. He could try to talk with Megumi and find a solution, but he’s not doing that because he’s insecure in his attachment to others. 

I think his reaction to Choso pretty clearly illustrates this too. Yuji isn’t around his friends because he doesn’t want to be around them. Which is tragic, because Yuji is holding himself responsible for the mass murder which isn’t really his fault. However, Yuji saw his relationship with both Nobara and Megumi as conditional to begin with. He can only be friends with people he can help, and he can never receive help from them. It’s unhealthy to start with because relationships go both ways. Yuji is also, completely unresponsive to Choso.

Yes. Choso suddenly walking to him and delcaring them brothers is really weird.  I don’t expect Yuji to just suddenly start getting along with him right away.

At the same time, Choso explains what the unconditional love between family is between Yuji, and Yuji just doesn’t get it, because he either hasn’t experienced enough of it, or his grandpa the only person that ever unconditionally loved him is gone. Yuji can’t understand Megumi’s love for him is unconditional,. because from the beginning he sees all relationships as conditional. 

Yuji and Choso are facing opposite direcitons because they’re opposites. Choso is willing to hurt complete strangers too, but his love for his family is unconditional and he will do anything for them. Yuji will help complete strangers, but, he doesn’t really understand unconditional love, and even his love with his closest friends has a few conditions. 

Which is why someone who appears on the surface as such a friendly guy who makes friends everywhere he goes, can call himself “a loner” because in Yuji’s mind he is. He doesn’t have friends, he has people who need him. 

Which is just incredibly sad because Yuji doesn’t understand this. Yuji isolates himself thinking he’s doing it for the sake of his friends, but neither Megumi nor Nobara would want him to be alone. 

[binghelovebot]

The Absurdly Long Jason Comics Post

This is all personal! I’m not claiming what’s canon or not and I’m not the final judge for anything - this is just what I like and what I don’t! Also this generally isn’t talking about the overall quality of the comics and the writing unless I specifically mention it, just how I feel about Jason in them. So....recs and unrecs, I guess, under the cut! I mostly just cover the well known ones, maybe one day I’ll do the less well known or really short ones.

Foundations:

These are what I personally view as the base of Jason characterization, this is the basics of what I’m going to use to gauge future characterization and where I get some fundamental character characteristics from. 

Robin Years (Detective Comics #568-#582, Batman #408-#426, The Cult) 

Robin Jason is the bedrock foundation of all Jason for me. When I think about post-resurrection characterizations of him, my primary concern is “Does this make sense as a progression from Robin Jason? Is this a person he could concievably become after x event?” If the answer is no? I’m out! 

Important character takeaways for me here are: Violently upset by abuse, strong desire to punish people who hurt women, experience with an addict mother, a father who turned to crime, and himself turning to theft to survive, very empathetic.

Under the Red Hood

🎵the boy is back in town 🎵

Bruce’s characterization here is shaky

narratively, this story is gorgeous. this is a greek tragedy in a comic.

the scene where he beats the joker is the most pure and cathartic expression of a victim’s rage i’ve ever seen. this is a comic about coming back from trauma screaming and vicious and demanding blood.

that said? the things he does here can be rough to square with his later character developments and i do think parts of this are best just accepted as a thing that happened that won’t ever be addressed because they decided they didn’t want to go with that character direction.

A-Listers

These are things outside of what I consider foundational that I think are Excellent.

Lost Days

This doesn't get put in foundational because it actually came out 5 years after UTRH but it's one of my favorite Jason comics. I wrote a whole post on how I think this tackles the subject of Jason & killing better than any other comic.

Task Force Z:

I went into TFZ knowing nothing about it except the concept and expected it to be awful and instead it became my favorite Jason characterization of recent comics.

I'm really grateful that Rosenberg is pushing back against the narrative that Jason died being reckless and is presenting Jason as competent and highly skilled - which he should be! The idea that *any* former Robin wouldn't be an excellent detective and fighter is just absurd, even if we don't take Jason's own history into account.

That I said really strongly dislike having Jason say he wants to do better than just street vigilante work. I think I don't mind the idea they were going for here? Like I think they were trying to echo Jason's frustration at how cyclical and futile all their work is? But it's worded So poorly and I think Jason should always fiercely love Gotham, the city that made him and killed him and brought him back.

Jason as a smart fighter! Built like a tank but agile as a gymnast and smart as hell, that's my man.

He chokes someone with his thighs, what more do you want?

Robin 80th Anniversary Special

Fun fact this is actually my hands down favorite thing written about Jason ever.

The way Robin Jay and current Jason are tied together. The melancholy fondness, Bruce and Jason loving each other but there still being a gulf between them.

It's very short, I don't have a lot to say, it's just quiet and fragile snapshot of two people who love each other deeply, even after all this time and all this pain and a distance that seems insurmountable.

RHATO Rebirth 1-11ish

Look. Lobdell is an awful writer and horrible person. He is a sexual predator and it does show in his writing of women.

Most of RHATO is garbage and not even the fun kind. The early issues of rebirth are, somehow, genuinely good despite all that.

Jason showing his love for Gotham! Jason being caring and gentle with Bizzaro! Jason's immediate ride or die loyalty (some fatal flaws continue even after death, huh, Jay?). Jason having severe and vivid flashbacks and hallucinations of his death and himself as Robin!

Also the premise of the initial arc of this one makes more sense to me as something Jason might do than most other outlaw plots, like Jason knows Black Mask is planning something and is worried about it - that makes sense for Red Hood to investigate. Jason is actually showing....concern for his city, which is a good thing. 

B-listers:

WFA

The thing about WFA, for me, is you cannot go into it expecting normal comics characterization.

I view WFA as like the comics where everyone gets turned into kids. You know going in this is meant to be lighthearted and will remain so even at the cost of characterization.

And honestly? I don't think it does that bad of a job. This isn't my Jason but this is a person I could see Jason becoming if the world had been kinder to him and the other bats.

C-listers:

Titan Tower

My view of this issue is very negatively influenced by how it has Raven trash Robin Jason as “always wanting to be the best” in the same issue after the attack, when Jason’s time in the Titans in canon was him being incredibly empathetic and mature for his age, and actually admitting that he was too young to lead them when Donna tried to make him. 

The thing about it is I don't think "Jason being an ass to Tim" is ooc it's just this specific bizarre situation? Why does Jason suddenly care about Tim, specifically, when all his anger has been at Bruce before this? 

The most out of character thing here though is that they gave his Robin costume pants. I know my man is brave enough to rock the scaly panties again.

Brothers in Blood

I think my hottest take in this post is putting this one higher than "no" but like hear me out!

I really like that this shows Jason and Dick both saving each other and despite everything genuinely have some? Strange bond? And it think it's cute.

I also appreciate how differently Dick reacts to Jason killing and I think this is one of the more realistic reactions he could have. He doesn't try to engage Jason about the actual killing as much as it's effects - Jason killed a kidnapper in front of a child, probably traumatizing her, and he's damaged Nightwing's reputation and Dick is rightfully pissed about it.

Speaking of. Why is he dressed as Nightwing. Did he get a two for one costume deal when he was commissioning his adult sized robin one? There's never a good answer given for this one. Even if he didn't want to bring back Red Hood as his persona at the time, surely they don't expect us to believe he's so uncreative he can't think up a temporary identity. If he was actually shown to *want* to ruin Dick's reputation, that might be a reason. But he doesn't seem to hold any ill will towards Dick here so it's just ????

Even worse, though, is that he makes some creepy comments to Cheyenne. That's something I find unforgivable in a Jason characterization. Make him mean, make him cruel, make him a callous asshole - but nothing about his Robin years shows us a boy who would grow up to be disrespectful of women. Robin Jason would punch this Jason.

Seriously though why the tentacles.

RHATO (nu52)

Kori we're gonna get you out of there

I do like the little flashback of sick Jason staying home with Bruce. That’s it.

RHATO rebirth 12ish-end

I know everyone focuses on how brutal Bruce is with his son in #25, and that's absolutely fair, but frankly I think this is just beyond the pale for what Bruce should or would do to *anyone* in this situation like I think even movie and game Bruces would look at him here and say he's being a bit much.

We aren't touching that weird abuse apologism Willis storyline with a 10ft pole.

Urban Legends: Cheer

I would honestly take a villainous and his own code of ethics breaking but competent Jason over this dumb brute shit Zdarsky feeds us.

Jason killing while emotional I can believe. Jason "took over a crime empire and bought out part of WE at 18 and fresh from the grave" Todd suddenly unable to track down a drug without harassing addicts I cannot.

Jason is a good detective. Jason is someone who plans things meticulously. This is not Jason.

What is with the Robin Jason and guns flashback. Does Zdarsky think guns operate using some sort of psychological curse upon their user, and Jason was infected and became obsessed? I can only assume that because otherwise there's no reason for this section.

10 year old Jason apparently murdering someone? Does Zdarsky walk around poor areas worrying about getting merced by traumatized grade schoolers?

Jason works as an interesting character because he should be presenting and embodying an actual moral conundrum but the morals in this storyline are so vapid and shallow that Zdarsky can't actually have a well written Jason.

The plot makes no sense because the kid couldn't have gone home with his father either way so making it into "but now he's Jason's responsibility" is SILLY okay okay deep breaths I'm done

NO:

These are comics I will under no circumstance consider as in character. I don't count them as canon. I don't take them into account when I write meta. They may as well not exist to me.

Battle for the Cowl

This is a just travesty for everyone involved, not only Jason. Jason going on a murderous rampage. Jason shoots Damian. Bad for everyone, bad for Jason, terrible story, let's all pretend this was a fever dream.

Hey at least Jason is presented as relatively skilled though.

Robin Vol. 2 

Jason "no selling to kids or you go in the duffel bag" "killed his teacher for using child soldiers" Todd is going to condone using the "child gangs" of Gotham? No. Absolutely not. Go sit in the corner and think about what you've done.

Batman & Robin (Morrison)

Why is his hair red. Why would he try to kill Dick or Damian. Why would he poison the prison's food supply. What's with the helmet. Why does he strip Dick & Damian. Winnick tries to salvage the last two issues with him in this run but there was nothing to save in this hideous ooc mess. If I thought this was what Jason was like, I wouldn't like him either.

The idea of Bruce making Jason dye his hair just to get a blonde and a girl Robin later is a hilarious concept though like maybe I’d become a mass murdering maniac too if I found out I did all that and he just let it drop later. 

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2022 | Day 16 | Miscommunication & Misunderstandings

Lectures in Grace | RogueTranslator (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,735 Main Tags/Warnings: Angelic Grace Kink, Background Case, Canon Universe, Established Relationship, Happy Ending, Outdoor Sex, Post-Canon, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester Summary: There’s nothing Dean enjoys more in bed than Castiel’s grace coming out to play. Lately, though, Castiel’s been holding back, lecturing Dean on the nature of his angelic grace instead of pleasuring him with it. It’s getting to the point where it’s affecting their sex life, and Dean finally bites the bullet and forces him to use his words. Tomorrow, Castiel says. They’ll talk about it tomorrow. Unfortunately, the “semi-” in their semi-retirement rears its head the next day, and they end up on the road to Oklahoma, following the trail of a rogue angel. When they catch up to their quarry, he says something that gives Dean an inkling of what might be bothering Castiel. Now, he just has to find a way to talk to him about it, the motel room they’re sharing with Sam and Eileen be damned.

How to Woo a Guy in Six Days | @ersatzangel

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 11,427 Main Tags/Warnings: pining, getting together, miscommunication, fluff Summary: Released from the Empty deal with no repercussions, Castiel has time to think about happiness. Specifically, his own. He’s thought about it before, about what could have triggered the deal when the one thing he wants is something that could never be his. Because it’s Dean, of course it is. Dean is his happiness. Castiel could never believe Dean would love him back and yet the small chance he might was enough to still his tongue. And so he loved secretly, quietly. But now, there is time. There’s little evil left to fight, the world is as at peace as it will ever be, and Castiel wonders if, maybe, he might have his happiness after all.

Innuendo | @AlleiraDayne

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 15,009 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff, angst, smut, innuendos, euphamisms, mutual pining, mutual masturbation, temporary minor character death, psychological horror, Lovecraftian monsters, angel castiel, human castiel, anal sex, frottage Summary: If you asked Castiel, something was definitely wrong with Dean. Of that, he had no doubt. Whatever bothered him, Castiel also knew that if he were to get to the bottom of it, he must tread lightly. Press too hard on Dean Winchester and he'd bottle up tighter than the lid on a pickle jar. But when the possibility of a hunt distracts them, Castiel is forced to put his concerns aside and focus on the task at hand. Unfortunately for them both, the case reveals far more about themselves than they ever anticipated.

Tag, you're it! (WIP) | @kitmistry

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23,334 Main Tags/Warnings: FBI AU, Friends with Benefits, Miscommunication, PTSD Summary: Five months after the case that almost claimed their lives, what started as blowing off some steam during a high-pressure situation and continued as a mutually-beneficial arrangement is getting out of Special Agent Castiel Novak’s control. Falling in love with his partner is doomed to end in disaster, especially when said partner is Special Agent Dean Winchester—cocky, infuriating, and the biggest playboy Castiel has ever met. Still on medical leave, Dean is bored out of his mind, and worst of all - once Castiel gets sucked into the investigation of a new case - without enough distractions from his inner demons. When he stumbles upon a small, seemingly risk-free case, Dean jumps at the chance to get involved, but the lies he has to tell could be catastrophic for the already shaky foundations of his relationship with Castiel. With a new threat trying to take over the underworld of DC, Castiel and Dean have to find a way to work past their problems or risk losing each other forever.

Picture Perfect | @perlukafarinn

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 24,757 Main Tags/Warnings: Modern AU, Bar Owner Dean, Professor Castiel, Gay Bar, Queer History, Masturbation, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings Summary: While collecting research material for his dissertation on queer aesthetics and desire in the pre-Stonewall era - in a word, old nudes - Castiel comes across a set of photographs irrelevant to his research but very relevant to his own desires. The last thing he expects is to run into the model in those photographs or to find him even more captivating in real life.

The Waltz of Shilly-Shallying | @thefandomsinhalor

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 36,395 Main Tags/Warnings: Veterinarian and Pet Groomer AU, Miscommunications, Mutual Pining, Fluff, Single Dad Castiel, Belphegor is Jack Kline's Imaginary Friend, Christmas Summary: Crushing on each other for quite some time, Dean and Castiel both hesitate to make a move. One thinks the feeling isn’t mutual while the other figures it’s best to focus on his familial duties and remain friends. That is until they find themselves under the mistletoe.

Mr. Fix It | @mittensmorgul

Rating: Mature Word Count: 54,383 Main Tags/Warnings: Busybody Minimall AU, Repair Shop Owner Dean Winchester, Bartender Castiel (Supernatural), Castiel in Witness Protection, Fluff, POV Alternating, Gabriel's healing cookies, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Strangers to Lovers Summary: When Dean opened up shop as Mr. Fix It, he never expected his biggest, slowest, and possibly most important project would be the quietly beguiling owner of the bar at the other end of the strip mall. Getting Steve to open up to him would prove tougher than hacking into the NSA. Five years after fleeing his corrupt family and starting life over as an unassuming bartender named Steve, Cas still regretfully maintained his policy of keeping everyone at arm's length-- most regretfully of all, Dean. It seems like a sound strategy for survival until his old life comes crashing through his front door. Are there any problems too big for Mr. Fix It to solve?

The Evil that Men do (WIP) | @MalicMalic

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 67,518 Main Tags/Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Rape/Non con, Kidnaping, Hurt, Guilt, Child Death, Homophobia, Abuse - Sexual, physical and verbal, Extremely dubious consent Summary: When Dean learns his girlfriend found the man that raped her all those years ago, he is ready to make him feel the exact formation of Dean's knuckles, but Bela had some other ideas in mind. Dean is not what you might call a good guy, but even some things are too much for him. And then the worst thing happens - Dean learns they made a mistake. The guilt will consume him, making him change his foul path, but nothing will ever seem enough, even when he gets a chance for redemption.

The Birds and the Ts | @doctorprofessorsong & you-can't-spell-subtext-without

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 130,425 Main Tags/Warnings: AU our world without COVID, Angst with a Happy Ending, Crack Treated Seriously, References to Drugs, Alcohol, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Eating Disorder not otherwise Specified, Anxiety, Destiel is canon, Metafiction, post finale fan reaction, ex sex, Team Switch, Exhibitionism Summary: Dean Smith is a workaholic, buried alive in his career as a high-ranking corporate executive at Twitter. Cas Novak largely avoids his obligations at tumblr, preferring instead to focus on his own carnal and chemical pursuits. When Destiel goes canon and throws both sites into disarray, Dean’s intern, Reese, and Cas's assistant, Harper, find themselves fed up trying to balance the chaos with their two bosses' inconvenient lifestyles. But a conversation with Cas's bestie, Meg, gives them an idea. What if they set their bosses up? Maybe their opposing worldviews will balance out and there will finally be peace. What they don't know is that the men are such a mess because they are both mourning a break-up. With each other. Will these two dumbasses use their words and realize they are the perfect endgame? And what of the budding relationship between Harper and Reese? Two love stories in one, all signed, sealed, and delivered as a love letter to the fans riding out this unparalleled media experience.

[emperor-palpaminty]

CAN WE PLEASE GET A PT 2 FOR THE 41 KISS PROMPT W REX OML I CANNOT IT WAS GETTING SO GOOOOODD 😭😭😭😭

ISKSKS I AM SO GLAD YOU LIKE IT

i will most defs do that for you love! am glad you've enjoyed it! I don't remember the exact dialogue so I just... Made it up???? Whoops

Part one is here!

You felt Rex's attention shift to you but you stood your ground, eyes pinned on Krell, the brilliant green shifting against the ever-present darkness rolling around your former master. You could feel it now- the haze of evil, the fog of the Dark Side rolling around him like a mist in a wood.

The captian's blasters were out in his hands and he stood even with you, voice calm but authoritative. "General Krell," He said, calmly. "You're under arrest."

Krell took in the sight of it all- you with your saber resting easily in your hands, Rex standing next to you with his guns drawn, the soldiers moving around you. "Under what charges?"

"Treason against the Republic." Rex moved closer to you, and you shifted your saber, feeling the comforting hum in your fingers.

The men closed in, eyes only on the traitor. Krell's lips pressed into a sneer, and his fingers flexed. "I feared you would say that-" You heard the Force stir before you felt it. "Clone."

The men tumbled back, Krell's sabers whipping out, pushing troopers away. The clone closest to the window crashed through, shattering the glass, and tumbled out, screaming.

You grounded yourself, skidding backwards as the pressure of the force pushed you back. Your head lifted long enough to catch Krell jumping out the shattered window. You stood, running to the ledge and glancing down, Rex behind you. "Kriff," You breathed, starting down. "I'll go directly after him. You take the elevator-"

"Hey," Rex reached out, bumping your arm with his fingers. You turned at looked at his visor, trying to discern some expression, some emotion from that emotionless helmet.

Instead, he drew his hand back, nodding. "Turn on your comm. The second you see him, tell me and wait-"

"No more of your brothers are dying today, Rex." You exhaled, moving back towards the ledge. "Not under my watch." Your breath caught, and you jumped back, tumbling, feeling the air whiz past your ears. You landed heavy, ankles screaming, the impact absorbed by the Force that dwelled around you.

You stood and ran, activating your lightsaber. "Men!" You yelled at a group of 212th troopers. "With me! Don't leave my sights."

You led them into the forest, thick with fog, the plants casting a dim glow on the breath of the twilight. You led the mem, stepping slow, your senses muffled by ringlets of the force around you. "Rex," You said, softly to your comm. "He's close. I can feel him."

"Hang on, General. We're close to you."

You exhaled, softening your voice. "I'll take care of your men. Just get here quick." You tugged your wrist away, saber humming with life.

A man screamed in the distance. You turned, eyes scanning for the familiar haze of blue and green. The sabers moved in violent arcs, aggressive, just as terribly powerful as you remembered him being when you were his padawan.

You ran ahead of the men, who were close to your tail, and you lept upwards, feet planting against foreign fauna, saber swinging. You struck down, just as violent as you had been taught, and two blades rose to meet you.

He swung, the duo of blades moving brilliantly, and you danced between them, twisting and rolling. The clones were yelling at one another in the comms, debating to fire or not, to shoot or not, in lieu of hitting the Jedi that they didn't want to hit.

You tumbled back, your blade still humming, and you glanced up at him, the grey dirt coating your vision. You stood, shakey, hands readjusting.

"My Padawan," Krell sighed, moving towards you. The words suffocated you, and you exhaled, feeling in the force for him- that betrayal earlier, your Captain, was replaced with worry. "You could have been a great service to the dark side." He walked towards you in an arc, and you mimicked it, circling each other slowly. "Instead, you chose some lab-created flesh droid with a hive mind. Does he even feel? Does he know the... Love?" Krell laughed, the sound grating your ribs. "You love him? My padawan is stupid. How unfortunate."

You spun the saber, stopping mid-circle. You began approaching him, head-on, each step a pump of your heart for him, his brothers- Rex. Fives. Jesse. Hardcase. Tup.

You sprinted, hearing Rex's voice in your comms, but the wind rushed past you and blocked his words. Your sabers clashed, and you snarled. "And my master has forgotten one thing-" The presence of Rex closened, pulsed, the fear filling as he heard your blades, your voices.

"And what is that?" Krell leaned in, his blades locked against yours.

You smiled as Rex and his men pushed into the clearing, their voices talking about the many aggressive living plants around the two of you. Your boot hit the rubbery root, and you stepped on it harder, feeling the hiss of the plant under you. "You taught me everything I know."

You shut off your saber and ducked, rolling away from him, and the vines rushing to meet you caught Krell's leg and yanked him up.

The men shot, firing, as you moved back, watching the Krell seeing wildly. You moved back towards Rex, watching him especially, and you get the fear transition to pride, admiration, even, as the General's sabers fell and he hit the ground, unconscious.

"Brilliant, General," Rex exhaled to you, watching his men hurry to cuff Krell.

You nodded, knees shaking, and you deactivated your saber, hand pressing to your thigh. A slow groan escaped your throat, a subtle burn spreading. "Rex-" You hissed, collapsing.

Rex turned instantly, body stiffening as you fell. He ran to you, rolling you over and looking at your thigh. "Kriff." He hissed. "Medic!" The pain in his voice was physical, wet, thick, more so than the pain in your body.

You felt him tug your head onto his arm. "Rex," You mumbled, the pain coursing rapidly in your muscles. "I think- when I-"

"Shh. You're going to be okay- Medic!" Rex stood, tucking you to him, and running to the straggling group of clones. "She's been hit."

Your leg stung, and your head lulled back, eyes catching the blue blurs of Rex's helmet before darkness consumed you.

___

When you came to, you had a very strong craving for tea. Your body felt sticky, thick, and you groaned and sat up. You glanced around at the pristine setting- the medical ward, you presumed, still on Umbara.

You kicked your legs over the aide of the bed and grimaced, knees popping at the use. Your upper leg felt mended, but the sutures were bruising your skin. You settled weight on it and emitted a hiss, shuffling towards the shower.

"You're up," Kix called. You turned, glancing back at the irritated medic. "If the Captain knew you were up-"

"Kix," you whined, leaning heavily on the closest bed frame. "I'm fine."

He gave an irritable grunt, holding out a folded pile of clothes. "You'd better be. Go shower. Do not-" He tugged the fabrics from your hands and you hummed, reaching for them. "I repeat, do not pull at the bacta pad or get it soaked. Damp is fine. Wet is not. Good?"

"Loud and clear." You snatched the clothes away.

"I'd better tell the boys you're up. They've been anxious. Especially-" The medic stopped, stumbling on his words

Your feet bumped into the doorframe of the refresher. "Especially... Who?"

Kid glanced up at you, eyes almost mirroring the Captian you hoped for, and he said, gently, with a grin on his lips, "I think you already know who."

___

When you emerged from the refresher, toweling off your hair, you heard a sharp intake of breath. "You're awake."

Your eyes snapped up, towel abandoned in your hands. "I am." Rex's voice held the same tenderness that had planted in your heard since the most recent tea ritual, rubbing your heart raw with the coarse affection that was running you over, again and again. "Are you alright?

Rex started towards you, eyes blazing with a compassionate intensity. "You need to be in bed."

You smiled gently, raising your hands in mock surrender, fighting to keep the searing pain of your wound at bay. "I'm getting there."

Rex met you halfway. He stooped and scooped you up, gently, far in less of a rush than he had been when you were openly injured and walked you towards your bed. "You know better, general." He scolded, softly. You didn't complain, opting to wind your fingers behind the nape of his neck and press your face softly against his jaw.

The captain exhaled a shaky breath. His hold tightened momentarily as he stopped by your cramped cot, turning his head and lowering his cheek against your skin. Your fingers intertwined and you pulled back, looking up at his face. The rolling surprise spread on his lips, his eyes, as he turned his head more against you, sitting down on the cot, simply cradling you.

You threw your arms around him entirely and allowed Rex to hold you- you shook, quietly, sobbing softly. "I'm so sorry, Rex, if I had sensed Krell-"

"No, no," Rex squeezed you gently, rocking now, smoothing a hand in your still-damp hair. "The Jedi Council didn't sense it. General Skywalker or General Kenobi didn't sense it, either. You can't blame yourself." The hand in your tendrils of hair moved to your cheek, the gloved fingers smoothing over the war-roughened skin. "You have done-" A crack in the foundation of his words, and his shoulders heaved. "More. More than I could ever ask anyone."

You bumped your forehead to him, holding his jaw in both your hands. "And I would do more." Especially for you.

Rex nodded, his hold tightening as he pulled you in again. The two of you sobbed- perhaps because of the losses, the shame of that responsibility, or perhaps you realized the unconditional depths of your love for the other, and it was something- even worse, someone- you could never truly have.

[mrsgiovanna]

Crimson (Dhampir! Don Giorno x Wife! Reader)

Those of you who have been here for a while would have suffered through my intermittent constant ramblings about scenarios in which Giorno's vampiric tendencies start to awaken. To the nonnies who requested this, here you go my loves.

TW: Blood mentions

Word Count: 2.4k

The sunshine felt glorious on your skin as you lounged next to the pool while Giorno completed a few more laps in the water before he was set to join you. Something felt amiss as you watched him aggressively swim in the huge body of water like a caged shark, but you attributed it to him needing to work off some of the stress of leading Passione. Finally satisfied with his efforts, he emerged from the pool, water clinging to his body and dripping from his hair, he would have looked like Neptune incarnate if it wasn’t for the angry red sunburn marring his otherwise flawless form.

“Gio, your skin looks so inflamed, let me help you,” he walked right past you, prompting you to follow him into the house. “My love, are you alright? Let me at least put something on you to…”

“Stop faffing, I’ll be fine, I think I just need some rest, you can go back to what you were doing,” snapped Giorno, in a harsher tone than he intended, in fact, he didn’t mean to be as short with you at all, and grimaced at his words, but he needed to get away from there as soon as he possibly could to not alarm you as this isn’t the first time he has experienced this, although, it is the first time it has happened in front of you.

You tried to hide your dejection at his behavior, you pulled on an oversized shirt, went inside and decided to work on some of your reports in the sunroom instead. Upstairs, in the bathroom of the master bedroom, stood Giorno in front of the golden-framed mirror. Before his ruby-tainted eyes, his burns had healed without him consciously summoning his stand… was it done subconsciously? His question remained unanswered, looking himself in the eyes, he realized that they still bore a crimson tinge to them. Dismissing it to simple chemical irritation, he took a cool shower and mulled over his exchange with you, growing ever more remorseful of how he dismissed your concern. Getting rid of the last bit remnants of water from his hair, he set out to find you to and apologize for his behavior.

Finding you bundled in the corner of the sunroom, musing over a few documents, Giorno just stood at the entrance admiring your beauty. You looked so cute wearing his shirt, the concentration furrowing your delicate brows and placing a pout on your lips.

“Tesoro? May I speak to you?” his voice was gentle, a far cry from the way he sounded before. You looked up from the documents you were working on and offered him a strained smile.

“Gio, I thought you wanted to rest for a bit…”

“I did bella, but that’s not important right now… I’m sorry… for the way I acted before, you were just showing your concern and I behaved like an idiot. Please forgive me…” walking towards you, he seated himself next to you.

“Well, you were very mean to me, but I’ll forgive you just this once… only because you asked so nicely, next time it won’t be so easy for you Don Giovanna,” you said with a smirk, breaking into a small giggle when he grimaced at the epithet.

“Come here bella- nice shirt by the way, it looks very familiar…”

“Oh, it’s just something I found lying around… you know what they say, finders’ keepers,” with a gentle smile at your remark, he peppered your face with soft kisses and made sure you got comfortable on his lap, so he could hold you while you worked, his mind though, was preoccupied with the events that occurred of late.

In the next few days both you and Giorno were busy with your respective tasks, and as much as you wanted to dismiss his distant demeanor on how busy you both were, you knew that he was uncharacteristically withdrawn from you. Giving him the space he needed, you met his aloofness with your usual calm kindness. Needing to discuss a few work-related issues with Giorno, you decided to go see him rather than wait for him to come home.

“(y/n)- bella, this is a nice surprise. To what do I owe this pleasure?” he still had that charming velvety quality to his voice that made you feel, for a split second, like things were back to normal, but the strained way in which he kissed your cheek told you otherwise. He considered you for a moment, staring at you with his slightly reddened eyes.

“Are you wearing a new perfume?” inhaling the air around you sharply, he posed his question to you.

“No my love, it’s the same scent you like, the one I wear most often”

“Oh? You just smell so sweet, it’s wonderful,” Giorno’s words are muffled as he buries his nose into your neck and places a small kiss there, rigidly pulling away almost instantly, the red sheen becoming more pronounced in his eyes. Guarded, he stepped away from you and with a tense smile he completed what you needed from him.

“I’ll see you at home then,”

“Of course tesoro…” distracted, Giorno kissed your forehead and you left, determined to get to the bottom of what was plaguing him. You knew that his origins were obscure. He didn’t have much of a relationship with his mother and you both learned the truth about his father after meeting with Dr. Kujo to resolve a few matters which required Giorno’s assistance. Recalling the conversation, you remembered the sordid business with Dio and the stone mask. Your blood ran cold when you considered the idea that Giorno could be going through a transition of sorts… it wasn’t a pleasant thought to entertain, however, you couldn’t think of another reason for his odd behavior and changes in his features.

You knew it was a risky idea… you knew that if he overheard your conversations he’d be furious… but you had to seek help from the one man who had encountered the type of being that Giorno shared his DNA with. Hating having to hide this from the man you had previously shared every mundane detail of your day with, you pressed on, and within the week that had passed you had learned all there was to know about his condition without actually having an expert examine him. You had unfortunately hit a wall, all the while, despite your best efforts, the rift between you and Giorno had continued to widen.

You sat up in bed engaging in a long distance call with a tired-sounding Jotaro, at that ungodly hour-alone- confident that you would be falling asleep beside a cold pillow, just as you had for the past 3 nights. “Is there anything that can be done from where I am? Dr. Kujo, please… I know you may be apprehensive given the history, I can assure you that, if by some stroke of misfortune, anything were to go awry I have enough faith in my abilities to contain him, I…”

“It’s not that, I trust that he isn’t a threat, despite what he’s experiencing. The thing is, we have already shared every bit of information we have in our possession with you. Anything else will require you to come here, the foundation has experts and the technology available to at least assess Giorno to determine a way forward from there,”

“I’ll try to get…”

“Who are you talking to?” the temperature in the room suddenly dropped when you heard the cold manner in which your husband addressed you.

“Oh! Giorno… I can explain… Dr. Kujo, please forgive my rudeness, but may we continue this later, at a suitable time for you?”

“Of course,”

“Thank you, I’ll be in touch…” moving from one impossibly difficult conversation to another, you turned your attention to Giorno who was seething at the doorway across from you.

“Care to explain?” the expression on your husband’s face was so cold it forced you to silently avert your gaze to gather your composure.

“(y/n), I’m waiting…” his footsteps resounded with a sharp clatter as he walked into the room.

“Gio… I’m worried about you. You think I haven’t noticed but I can see that you’ve changed. I see you agonizing over this… transition… you’re going through. Please don’t shut me out,” weeks of unexpressed feelings pooled in the corners of your eyes, threatening to spill out.

“(y/n) … this is something I have to do on my own, I… I don’t want to hurt you,” it was clear that Giorno did not want to have this conversation with you from his shaky disposition and the manner in which he spoke.

“What you’re doing right now is more hurtful than anything else! Watching you struggle like this, being so close to you, yet so far removed from each other,” emotions swirling uncontrolled, you choked out the words despite wanting to protect Giorno’s feelings.

“You don’t understand cara”

“Then make me understand, damn it Giorno!”

“Ahh! you think I don’t know what’s happening to me? I’ve been doing my own research as well. I know what my father was… I knowwhat I’m turning into! We both know… and you… the scent of you drives me insane. Rather than hurting you, I chose to stay away from you!” For a moment after his outburst, all you heard was silence save for the sound of Giorno’s breathing and your own heart pounding in your ears.

“You’re not him Gio, you never will be like him. and if your bloodlust is doing this to you, then please just let me help you… I’m your wife, if I can’t do this for you, who will?!”

“No! I won’t allow it. Will I even be human if I did? No… I can’t, and if I hurt you I’ll never forgive myself,”

“Gio, caro, I trust you entirely, I know you wouldn’t go too far, and if by some stroke of bad luck, you do, you can always use your stand ability to replace what was lost. I can’t stand seeing you like this… I love you so much… so please, if you need to… then do it, I’ll be okay,”

You saw the doubt flicker in his glossy eyes as he considered your argument. Inching closer towards him, you extend your hand to cup his cheek, cherishing the feeling of his faintly stubbled skin against your soft hand. He puts his hand over yours, leaning into your touch, he places a soft kiss into your palm. After craving your touch for so long, this felt heavenly to him, and he wasn’t sure if he would be able to let you go again after this. You picked up on his yearning, as it matched your own, and gently coaxed his face towards yours, kissing him gently at first, and then surrendering to your urges as Giorno hungrily deepened the kiss, burying his fingers into your hair. When he broke away, his gaze was intense, but marred by doubt. He flicked your hair over your shoulder and gingerly traced the vein on your neck, his thumb gently caressing your silken skin.

Sensing his trepidation, you try to allay his fears, “It’s alright my love, I’m ready… I’ll be okay.” Your hands wrap around his back while his lips find your neck, small kisses were placed in the prime spot, turning into little licks and laps, until finally you felt the sharp sting of Giorno’s teeth sinking into the supple flesh with a low hum from him. After the initial pain, the sensation was unlike anything you have ever experienced before, a newfound intimacy that came from knowing you were helping him through something so intense.

After a few moments, his hunger was satiated- at last, the feral intensity disappearing from his eyes, his teeth retracting to the same level as the others, Giorno cradled you in his arms.

“Tesoro, are you alright?” his voice was tender, and it seemed that he had finally returned to his old self.

“I’m alright my love,” you replied softly, your voice barely above a whisper. Giorno was overcome by a new wave of affection for you, watching you carefully, he lifted you up, despite your protests and carried you to bed.

“This will only hurt for second amore, but you will feel much better afterwards,” he explained as a familiar golden glow enveloped both you and him, slightly smarting the area that it healed until all evidence of the encounter had vanished. Clear eyes peered curiously into your own and were met with a relieved gaze- finally the crimson haze had cleared.

“How are you feeling my love? You look… different… calmer?” pushing yourself up on one arm, you sat up to face Giorno.

“I do feel calm, I feel like a spell has been lifted and I’m finally myself again…” anguish contorted the young don’s features as he thought back on the events that built up to that moment. “I’m so sorry, tesoro… I’ve treated you horribly over the past few weeks, there are no excuses, regardless of what was happening, I shouldn’t have taken it out on you… please forgive me,” unable to hold your gaze he just looked away dejectedly.

“Giorno… look at me…” you extended your arms towards him, gripping the sides of his face, gently turning him towards you. “We’re a team, we’ve fought against unimaginable things together, built an entire empire together, even changed the course of fate together… my point is that regardless of what you’re going through, it will never best us if handle it together,” offering you a tired smile, he grasped your hands in his and kissed them gently.

“You always know what to say… You’re pretty amazing, you know that?”

“Well, of course I’m amazing! Doesn’t hurt to hear it every once in a while though…” your laughter lightened the mood and tugged at the corners of Giorno’s full lips. Wordlessly, he climbed onto his side of the bed and motioned for you to take your place in his arms. It was the embrace that you both craved after the painful period of time you were estranged from each other. Hair still adorned with his triad of curls and still in his suit, Giorno fell asleep almost instantly after wrapping his arms around you and tucking your head under his chin.

Feeling as safe as you did, your exhaustion also weighed down your eyelids. You knew that the road would be a long one, but for now, the only thing that mattered was the fact that he was safe and happy, and you were in his embrace where you belonged. Relishing the warmth he radiated, you allowed yourself to drift into a peaceful slumber.