#and he does acknowledge different kinds of strength

[ikemenomegas]

loss is a condition acquired to bury our pity

pairing: Uchiha Madara x Reader a/n: I should be working on something else, but it's like dragging rocks to do that one, and this one emerged somehow; title from the unnatural apologie of shadows; morning glories sometimes stand for short-lived love, yes red ones do exist c/w: omegaverse (alpha reader), grief turning into anger, nihilism, reader and madara both have post-warring states trauma, hints of characters experiencing war-crimes, madara's terrible plans, 18+ below the cut - reminder that alphas of all sexes have cocks

There is no kind love between you and he. Madara lays on his side, watching you wake slowly. He can feel the sun, low and heavy on the horizon.

It feels as he does, autumn reluctant.

He shifts on the futon, relishing the ache between his thighs and the sharper pain of new wounds on his body. He never knew how to love without a fight - brothers, father, friend, and now lover.

But his hands knew precision, they knew gentleness, they had known surrender.

He watched your chest rise and fall in a great sigh, your face turning towards him. With the red blush of dawn starting to peak through the window and splashing across your skin, you reminded him of asagao, morning glory, blooming with the dawn.

This was how you had met: the first two dark-eyed travelers awake in a dusty inn as far away from other people as you could get. He had been alone for too long, the day he had given into speaking with a stranger, seeking news from across the nations.

And then it had amused him to travel alongside you for awhile, as you were going the same direction as he was.

Until one day had stretched into two, and on into many, and you laughingly admitted to his late inquiry into your destination that you had none in mind. So you had been following one another, in an odd roundabout way.

It was the laugh that had done it, he recalls as you stir and wriggle beneath the covers, the heat of your body beginning to rise. It was bitter and biting, aching, like the empty places punched into his own heart.

He'd made you take him that evening, made himself open up to you like he had not done in years to anyone who was not an enemy. He had needed to, to find the right way to get what he wanted.

And what he wanted was not kind. He knew you were capable of it. He had seen your hands too, precise, capable of gentleness, capable of surrender, capable of a fight.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"Does it matter, anymore?" you had asked, heavy and ironic, lighting the fire with a look that told him you knew he could do it as well and was shoving the duty onto someone else.

It was rather Uchiha of him, although you didn't know that. Fire was new life of all kinds. Maybe he should have given into this sooner. You've built one up more nights than he had on these near-nonexistent roads. In the old ways, it was one of many forms of courtship.

But he knew what you meant. Boundaries were shifting, alliances with it. Loyalty. You were clearly not one of those who bent yours easily.

But he needed to be sure.

"Not making one of the new villages your home then? I've heard they offer safety, negotiating power so we're not all used up against each other."

You gaze at him, long and wearied, as you stir a pot over the bright, flickering flames.

You don't fear exposure on the road, which tells him your are strong enough to do something about it. You are also clearly old enough to have survived many battles, which tells him more.

"It may be misguided of me, but I think you also know that the wars do not end so easily. Peace happens only too late, when both sides have lost too much. It won't last."

There again, that hopeful flicker of something familiar when you said It won't last.

"What will you do, when it starts again?"

You are quiet a long time, long enough for the soup to be done to your satisfaction, the game he caught so easily before this simmering and tender. You have salt carefully stored in a battered wooden container which you have sprinkled over it. The taste of it is, as always, divine.

Salt is still a coveted commodity, but he has seen you pay only with coin, never offering anything more valuable.

You ladle up a healthy portion for him and pass it over before serving yourself and expertly scraping the embers around the pit so the leftovers won't burn while you feed strips of dry wood to the live fire.

Your eyes flicker right to his and it's thrilling. No one wants to look an Uchiha in the eyes.

It feels like being in a time long ago, neither of you have given the other your family name all this time, as is shinobi custom. He wondered if you would look at him so dead on the same way if you knew what he was. He wondered if somehow you didn't know already. He wondered if you knew what it meant to share words and food like this across a living fire.

He cannot call the look in your eyes haunted. There must be some out-of-time out-of-place spirit inside for such a thing. This was the hole in his own heart, the place where regret and sorrow should live.

It blinked away when you found whatever you were looking for.

"Fight if I must, and die in whatever way I should."

It was an oddly unsatisfying answer.

"Why should you die?" he demanded.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "You're oddly inquisitive today. What will you do?"

He shrugged and smugly observed the irritated twitch of your eye.

It was all the opening he needed to goad you into further snipping at one another. It felt good, to feel the fire of another mind set against his.

Complaining of the repetitive movement of the road drew you to your feet and although only one person could match him blow for blow, it felt good to spar, to flex those muscles, to see the admiration in your eyes at the smoothness of his movements, to see the vital ferocity in yours.

He did not let you get him down in the dirt, only limited his power so that when he went down it was for real, but when you did, he kissed you, lips pressed full to yours.

You pulled back, full of surprise and questions. He glared at you, full of challenge and accusation until you glared right back and got to work seeing how far you could push him.

It was an alpha thing to do, but not done the way he knew most alphas did things. It was rough, but you were so in tune to every shift of his body, learning him.

It amused him to see you spread out a bedroll. The ground was soft sand and rough, but cushioning grass. It would not have bothered him to do this on the bare earth, but he felt a flash of affection as you ran a hand through his hair and undid the tie before laying him down again, combing out what dust had gathered in his thick, coarse hair, careful, never tugging hard enough for pain.

Tugging at your clothes irritated you. He knew this already because he'd seen the flash of ire as an irritable horse had caught your shoulder when bargaining with some farmer, and then the farmer's children had brushed too close and the reaction had been shinobi-muted, but you'd been in a terrible mood for hours.

He did it now because he refused to be the only one bared. You let him because you understood as much, and Madara relished the first warning nip of teeth against his collarbones as a certain galling heat in your scent spiked. You tugged your arms free of your sleeve with a defiant flash of movement, dragging your teeth over the same spot in a way that made him twist into you, hissing.

You pulled back, pausing. "I hate this world," you said. "It can be nothing but hateful when it has none of what I once loved or protected left in it."

"That is not what you want to tell me," Madara said, his breath hot on your ear as he bit the lobe. Your breath hitched in response.

The ties closing his coat had come apart easily but you could not bring your hands to go any further.

"How did you lose?"

"Slowly," Madara growled, yanking on your other sleeve and relishing the dark bleed into your eyes. "And too much."

"Did you watch it happen?" You shivered beneath his calloused hands, tracing over your shoulders and down, catching on the low edge of your sarashi when he skimmed your hip.

"Oh yes," he groaned as you leaned down and sucked a mark at the hollow of his throat. "I watched him die by inches, for days, while his mate fought to save him."

"Who was it?"

All at once it was too much and it was with an easy surge of strength that Madara flipped the two of you so he was leaning over you, teeth bared.

"Who was yours?"

Your hands were clasped with his, and you turned your head, pressed your lips to his fingers as you answered.

"They held me by my robes while they gutted her slowly, right in front of me. It was not fast enough."

You tilted your head to look at him and he saw that same detached absence in your eyes that he knew filled him whenever he spoke of his own last, worst loss. He was also certain that the full story of the event was worse than your abbreviated explanation.

He let you go slowly, untangling his fingers from the bunched fabric pulled down from your shoulders and pooling around your ribs on the bedroll. He sat back and you lifted yourself on an elbow.

He knew you were watching his hands when he shed his jacket. The high collar caught scent and held it close to his skin and he could see the way your pupils blew out as it released and wafted over you.

The scent of your own arousal pleased him. He'd been told before that he was handsome, and it was nice to be admired, thought beautiful.

There was no one else for miles and miles. Without shame, Madara reached down, slid his hand under his waistband and cupped himself. He was slicked-wet.

When he withdrew his hand, he caressed your cheek, felt how you shuddered and turned toward that concentrated portion of his essence.

You did not care that he smelled like blood and the sweet bite of rice grain alcohol. Maybe he would find more like you if he spoke to more people, but he had found you.

You tried to trade places with him once more, but he resisted you, his teeth bared and expression wild. You attempted to lean back and he snarled, deep and feral.

That sound called out to something in you, and you snarled back. He tugged on the exposed mesh armor that covered your chest and arms, and you made an ugly sound in the back of your throat.

"Take it off," Madara commanded.

And suddenly you were angry. He wanted so badly to see what the world had done to you?

He was alight with some kind of victory as you pulled the disarranged top over your head and extricated yourself from the mesh.

He finally did the same as you finished, pulling off his own thin layer, baring scars that spoke of survival.

You came together in a bruising collide, upright like wrestlers, nails scratching at one another as though to mark the moment as different from a state of blind existence.

It was a different kind of violence, but one that he thought perhaps he could get used to. He had already learned there was no replacing what was lost, but here was someone who understood as no one else had.

He pulled his pants off only enough to expose himself, impatient suddenly for something more. You bit his lip when he did the same to you, pulling at the ties on your pants until he could get your cock to spring free.

He was at such an angle where the tip immediately bumped up against his slick opening and the sensation surprised him, invigorated him.

But you were watching him ever so warily.

He moved his hand so that it was beneath him and shivered as he began stretching himself open, the slick sounds of his fingers in his own opening goading you into biting hard on his chest, your fingers digging into his shoulder blade hard enough to bruise.

His scent was a riot around you, heady and clean somehow. He did not smell like the sick, dead tang of a battlefield, but like new iron, ready for steel.

You licked a stripe up his sternum and he shivered, back arching.

His fingers were cooling and wet when he gripped onto your shoulder, nails grasping like claws. The flash of pain spurred you onward and you guided his hip with one hand and yourself with the other until you were pushing up and inside of his hot, wet heat.

The sharp spike in his scent, like the exhale of breath over a clear cup of rice wine, spilled over.

Madara ground down on you, pulling you deeper.

"It's all a farce," he murmured into your ear finally.

You were breathing hard against his chest, buried to the hilt inside of him. You didn't know if it had hurt, to take you all at once, but you knew if it had that he would not care.

"What is this reality worth?" He showed you for only a few seconds the type of pace he wanted you to set, and then urged you on, scoring a line of red marks over your ribs.

You bucked up into him, hitting deep places that put stars across his vision, better even than being dashed over the head or bled near dry.

He straddled your hips. Your legs were braced against the ground to give you more leverage. Yes, his intuition had never truly failed him, and he could feel the strength of your body pressed against his, inside of him.

If he were the type for children, you would have made a good enough sire.

You took him with a warrior's precision and knowledge that time was never on your side, but you also held him in your warrior's perception. He let himself shiver at the intensity of that focus.

You took advantage of the way every shift of his body made his insides tighten around you and heighten his own sensation. You played the remaining soft points on his body like an expert at the koto.

It had been so long since there was time for music, he had not thought to check your callouses for the kind of wire that didn't mean to draw blood and kill breath.

He should ask you to play, he decided as you dragged a shiver from him like a run from the instrument, your nails dragging a pattern across his back and down to his hips and thighs.

He came when you drew blood on him, your teeth digging hard enough into the muscle of his breast to mark him for days.

As ever, once the pulsing shocks had calmed enough to make him want it, he gave as good as he got and reared back, leveraging himself enough to bite down on your shoulder. Hard.

You bared your teeth, some of them outlined in his blood, but locked the roar away in your chest, well practiced in keeping essential silence.

You felt the force of Madara's will lock down against your own, pushing you towards your own completion. Because that wasn't just a retaliation bite, which would have been welcome and well-deserved.

That was an omega's bite, placed over a scent-gland with the intent to own.

Madara did not bite down in a normal way either, sinking his teeth in carefully to leave an elegant scar. He bit like you were enemies, twisting his head as he did, as if daring you to watch him, to stop him, to stop pressing up into him, coaxing his finish long.

It was a very, very old way to do things, a fire way to do things, in more ways that one. The Sarutobi had regimented ways of doing this, now, involving agreed upon combat, and a certain amount of posturing. Some of the other close-fire clans told old tales of mates courting by fighting, long and hard until someone gave in.

You placed your fingers in a loose ring on the nape of his neck, the only moment you would give him to change his mind. He could feel the swelling of your knot at his opening.

Uchiha Madara did not easily change his mind.

You bite was cleaner than his but broke the skin all the same, shredding down until you could taste him, blood and blood and that sharp fragrant note underneath of it.

You bucked up into him, harder, faster, abandoning the normal course of seduction, and lighting his nerves on fire instead of easing them.

He groaned, hard and euphoric, with blood still in his own mouth. Your knot, filling him full, pushed him back over the edge, easy enough, and he let it go, felt the pulse of it behind his eyes. He felt your warmth fill him and it felt right, satisfying. He had been his own fire for so long.

"Madara," you groaned in turn. You did not stop moving, even as he pulsed and fluttered around you, even though it must be causing you your own discomfort.

You laved your tongue over the mark you had left behind, which both eased the ache of it and made it sting as you disturbed the fresh wounds.

It was enough to remind him that all the pain in the world was just a moment, bright like sparks.

All will be as it should, better even, someday.

He had not quite meant to bond with you the first time, but it seemed fitting, after. You had stayed knotted within him long enough to send him into a third, near painful finish, and there were many more bites across both of your shoulders.

He touched one of those now, which had scarred fainter than the bondmark, but still showed evidence of that first, true encounter.

You started, suddenly perfectly alert, half-sitting. Alert to the world around him, around you.

"Wha'sit?"

He smirked a bit at the stumbling stiffness of your tongue. A low, rumbling purr coaxed out from him, filling the room. You spared a brief brush of awareness over him, which was wise of you, but otherwise flopped back down among the cushions.

He curled up against your back so that you own chest cavity was filled with the echoes of him, your senses vibrating with it.

It was not comforting and was not meant to be.

"It's today?" you asked, after you knew the words would not slur and your heartbeat was back to rock-steady.

"Mhm," Madara hummed through the purring.

It wasn't really the right answer. It could have been any day, but if you said so -- well, you had a sense for these things, a nose for disaster that he'd seen develop among some of his own clansmen.

You certainly had a nose for the restlessness that took him, that demanded satisfaction the way his heart had once demanded escape to the riverbank. And despite what Hashirama thought, he did plan their little competitions. Around his own whims, certainly, but they were not entirely random.

"I'll find you, after" he promised. The purring faded, but the warmth of sunlight filling the little room took its place.

It invigorated him, warmed his muscles. You were not so in tune with such things, but he felt the quiet flex and extension of your hands and feet and then your wrists and ankles as you shifted beneath the covers.

He leaned over you, pressing his lips to one of those old scars, fingers finding one of the new marks he left on you.

He will want a bath, before he goes. This is his. He's not interested in Hashirama accusing him of an accomplice. Although he of all people should forgive Madara of no longer being so alone.

You stroked over his knuckles, scarred and toughened with over two decades of battle. "You always do."

With him here, you could believe that the lonely, aching emptiness was just a dream.

With him, it was not kindness, not like the closer, comforting love he had observed between other mates, but you knew his dream, knew his loss and did not deny it.

He thought again of his plan, and looked forward to what would likely be the last time he met his once and only friend. He no longer had the Nine-tails but for a final feint he himself would be enough.

Just as this was. He would not be alone on the other side.

For now, that would be enough.

[atqh16]

Hua Cheng absolutely destroying the 33 gods that hurt Xie Lian is one of the sexiest thing I’ve ever read. I get so tired of stories preaching restraint in regards to revenge. I think it tends to invalidate the suffering that many of the characters seeking revenge faced.

BUT at the same time I think it’s also important to acknowledge that it wasn’t just a romantic gesture. To Hua Cheng these gods were no different than the bullies that cruelly tormented him all his life simply for being different and weak. His condemnation of their actions was also for himself. A statement of how power and strength should be used. That the way these gods treated someone they considered beneath them wasn’t acceptable.

It’s important to note that Hua Cheng has no contempt for those who are powerless. An important example being Yin Yu. He had no responsibility to take him in but he does. He gives him a purpose. Protects him from the cruel fate he might have faced similar to the kind Xie Lian dealt with after his first banishment. He treats people according to the actions they make. Not the position they are in.

You can also see this in his love for Xie Lian. It isn’t just based on a simple infatuation or rooted in a childish crush. He reveres Xie Lian as his god but loves him for being the human he is. It’s why he can accept Xie Lians flaws and mistakes easily. He loves him for them and not in spite of them. It is the most sincere and genuine form of love a person can have and I think the reason so many readers love him is because it’s also what we yearn ourselves. To be loved for who we are. Flaws and all.

[beth-march]

A list of things I adored about the new Little Mermaid movie:

The Hans Christian Andersen quote about mermaids having to suffer without tears in the beginning sequence

Ariel saving Max by pushing him towards the boat

The clarification on Ursula’s backstory regarding her “when I lived at the palace” comment

Ariel noticing Eric’s compassion before his beauty

Ariel being such an open-minded free thinker that she holds a different opinion from everybody she knows about humans, despite the fact that a human was responsible for her mother’s death

Ariel being more conflicted about Ursula’s deal, acknowledging that it’s wrong

The fact that Eric has a collection just like Ariel does, the fact that they’re both explorers

Eric and Ariel finding ways to connect without her speaking! Pouring over maps together, communicating with gestures and smiles.

Eric stopping the carriage to move the goats, and Ariel disappearing while he has his back turned, because she’s so intrigued by the market that she can’t help herself

Ariel constantly discarding her shoes and eventually trading in her boots for sandals

Eric showing Ariel star constellations and her telling him her name by pointing out Aries. The line “That’s a beautiful name,” replacing “That’s kind of pretty.” Eric saying her name is written in the stars.

When Ariel and Eric are saying goodbye after their day together and she hops down the stairs to put his hat on his head and give him an earnest, sweet, open smile

Grimsby kicking the wedding ring out of sight so Eric couldn’t give it to Vanessa

Ariel being the one to defeat Ursula! Ariel, as a mermaid, unable to stand, slipping and sliding down the deck, hefting herself up to spin the wheel with all her strength.

Ariel having a tea length wedding dress! I love her gaudy puffy 1989 dress but this felt more in tune for her character, light, airy, free, youthful.

The union of Ariel and Eric representing an alliance between mermaids and humans, and an appeasement to the sea gods, so that the port will be successful again

The nuance in Ariel’s relationship with the ocean. She acknowledges that leaving is a sacrifice and a loss, even while understanding that it’s the right thing to do for herself. The balance of feelings made it very emotional when her family came to the surface to tell her that they would always be there for her. A poignant depiction of growing up, really.

[hyperactively-me]

regency era!ghost x reader au (part 1)

oops my fingers slipped oh nooo. I just watched Pride and Prejudice (2005 of course) and finished the first half of Bridgerton season 3, and this just fell out of my head sooo here ya go

In the heart of debutante season, the grand halls of the manor glittered with an optimistic opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung in every room, and the laughter of the ton mingled with the notes of lively waltzes and invigorating English country dances. Simon Riley, the newly titled Duke, stood at the edge of the ballroom, a stern figure amidst the merrymaking. His eyes scanned the room, but they held no warmth; they were as cold and unyielding as the battles he had once fought in wars. 

Duke Simon Riley had gained his title through his distinguished military service, a feat that made him both revered and feared. His demeanor was hardened, his interactions brusque, and he regarded social gathering and balls with a thinly veiled disdain. He considered balls and galas a different kind of battle, one he navigated with nearly the same stoic resolve as he had the warfront.

Across the room, you move with effortless grace, the hem of your gown bustling around your feet. You are the embodiment of elegance and propriety, your every movement reflecting your strict upbringing. You were popular amongst the ton, your dance card nearly always full. You didn’t really mind, to a certain extent; yet, you’ve never had a dance partner who went past superficial conversation. It was something that irked you, but you had resigned yourself to it a long time ago.

Your father, a Lord, had made it a point earlier in the night to introduce you to the Duke. You glide through the sea of silk and satin, approaching your father’s proud smile in the corner of the ballroom. Next to him was the Duke; a tall, broad man. Quite handsome, you thought to yourself.

“Ah, here she is,” your father said warmly, taking your hand and leading you towards the Duke. “Allow me to introduce Duke Simon Riley. Your Grace, may I present my daughter.” 

You curtsy deeply as your father announces your title and name, your eyes fluttering open to meet the Duke as you offer a polite smile. 

Simon turns his steely gaze upon you, dipping his head slightly in acknowledgement. “My lady,” he said, his voice as cold and formal as his expression.  

“Your Grace, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. I have heard much about your service.”

“Indeed,” Simon replies, his tone clipped. “I hope the reality does not disappoint.” 

You tilt your head slightly, maintaining your composure at his bluntness. “On the contrary, Your Grace, I find the tales of your exploits quite fascinating. It must have required immense strength and courage.” 

“It required duty,” he said forthrightly, his eyes narrowing slightly. “And an ability to see through distractions.” 

Something in his tone struck you, a subtle but clear implication that left you momentarily speechless. You clear your throat, smoothing out of the front of your dress. “Well, we are all very fortunate that you were not distracted, Your Grace. Otherwise, who knows where we might be?”

Simon’s lips twitched, standing straighter than ever, but his eyes remained hard. “Yes, distractions can be dangerous. Such as a ballroom, where idle chatter and trivial pursuits often mask the true nature of one’s character.”

He eyed you up and down as he spoke, and you feel as though the wind has been knocked out of your lungs. You feel your cheeks heat up with anger at his veiled insult. 

“Your Grace, I must respectfully disagree. A ballroom is where one’s true character is often revealed; most often through grace, kindness, and the ability to navigate society with dignity.”

Simon raises an eyebrow, his expression unmoved. “It is easy to speak of ‘grace and kindness’ when one has never faced true adversity, my Lady. Perhaps your perspective would be different if you had seen the world as it truly is.”

Your temper flares at his condescension, your grip tightening on the skirts of your dress as you step closer. “And perhaps, Your Grace,” you hiss, “if you had ever taken the time to understand the world beyond the battlefield, you might see that strength and bravery comes in many forms. It doesn’t give you the right to belittle the lives and joys of others.” 

Your father steps forward, sensing the need to intervene. “Now, now,” he says, his tone conciliator. “Let not a misunderstanding spoil the evening.”

But the damage had already been done. Simon’s eyes remained fixed on you, eyebrows pinched and eyes cold. He had offended you greatly, swiping at your character even though he knows nothing of you. 

With a final cursory glance at him, you excuse yourself with as much dignity as you could muster, your heart pounding with anger and hurt.

As you walk away, you could feel Simon’s gaze boring into your back. You do your best to shake off your emotions, trying to regain your composure. An evening that had started with hope and lightness had turned bitter. And while the Duke might have won many wars, he would find that you were not one to back down easily. You were determined to show him that in the realm of society, you were just as formidable an opponent as he was in war.

> part 2

[moronkombat]

HELLO.

I was just wondering if you could do some hcs of what the mk1 men's ideal types would be.

Reiko is interested in a partner who is strong and capable. Someone who can handle themselves and continue to grow in personal and physical strength

He wants someone who knows their way around the battlefield and loyal to their personal goals

Kenshi is attracted to his partner's wit and intelligence. He wants someone who he can have long and deep conversations with

Prefers someone who can be playful but not overly so. He needs a calming influence but not one so compliant. He is a man who carries a lot of weight so someone to take that weigh off with small jokes can make a big difference for him

Syzoth is drawn towards someone who is patient, calm and understanding. Someone who can not just hear him but truly listen to him

He a man full of emotion so someone who tends to have a calmer demeanor helps soothe him when he becomes anxious. Of course, he also loves a partner who enjoys frequent physical contact

Prefers someone wild and brazen. Someone who cannot be completely contained even though he so desperately wants to

Enjoys a partner that seeks thrills and chills. Don't worry though, he will mold his partner into the perfect chaos if they seem restrained

Rain needs someone who acknowledges his ambitions and desires. A partner that encourages him and supports his efforts goes a long way for him

Though he does find himself seeking competition so, naturally, he seeks out a partner who can handle and enjoy these rivalries

Shang Tsung is drawn to people who interest him. Someone that catches his eye because of their abilities, wit and/or appearance

Prefers a partner who can be clever but also softer than the average person. He will enjoy matching their wit while also taking comfort in their kindness

Quan Chi appreciates loyalty and acknowledgment. He wants a partner to stay by his side while also seeing all the wonders he can do

Prefers someone who can handle themselves and not completely rely on him. Not to say he isn't a comforting partner, he is, but he values mental fortitude as well

Tomas prefers someone he can have fun with. He wants to go out with his partner, take them places and have adventures with him

His partner needn't be shy nor outgoing, just someone who is open to his ideas and plans. Over everything, he needs someone who is unconditionally supportive but not blindly so

Raiden enjoys a partner who values kindness and the treatment of others. He himself a very caring individual so he is drawn to those who show similar characteristics

Also enjoys someone with a sense of humor. Raiden wants to laugh with his partner, truly and loudly laugh to the silly things they talk about

Kung Lao really likes when his partner can match his sass and swagger. He likes the little playful rivalry that he and his partner create

While he has fun with his partner's attitude, he does need a partner that knows when to humble him

Bi-Han has an intense temper so a partner who is calm, collected and sweet really helps level him out. Someone who is kind yet witty to bring him down from those raging highs

He needs a partner who completes him and compliments him. Too be too brash around him will frustrate him and isolate him. A partner to love him completely and truly, to hold him and tell him it will be alright, means the world to him

Johnny craves someone who loves to live life and live it fast. He is exceptionally extraverted and wants to go out and see the world with his partner

Someone who believes in his ambitions is a big deal for him. Johnny may appear exceptionally confident but he is deeply insecure. He needs a partner that can recognize that and provide him comfort

General Shao prefers a partner who is smaller than he is. He wants to impress his partner and show them his prowess

It is not that he wants someone weak, Shao enjoys a partner that welcomes him when he returns from battle with excitement and pride. He wants to scoop his partner up and parade them on his shoulder as he marches through the city

Geras is a simple man but incredibly busy and needs a partner who understands this. There will be much time spent apart from each other so he requires a partner with great patience

He prefers someone who is level-headed and logical, someone who can analyze a situation with him and offer a new perspective

Liu Kang fancies someone who can be witty and playful just as he is. A partner who can make him smile and laugh will capture his heart quickly

He does not have preferences in terms of their physical strength but their mental fortitude. Not to say he will not comfort his partner, he will, but Liu Kang needs that comfort too.

Kaui Liang has no preference for appearances. His desire in a partner is all related to who they are. He prefers a partner who shows kindness and restraint in moments of frustrations

Additionally, he wants a partner who is family oriented. Family is huge for him and so he seeks out a partner who also values the concept of family and loyalty to them

Baraka needs a partner who is understanding of his worries and someone willing to listen to him. He's lost everything and someone to validate that will help soothe him

He is touch starved, desperately so. Baraka would love a partner who can touch him softly, unafraid of his deformed skin and bones

[yandere-writer-momo]

Yandere Baki Head Canons:

Struck By Cupid

Yandere Various Baki Men x Fem Fighter Reader

TW: Reverse Harem/ aged up AU, uncomfortable themes, yandere behavior, drugging, creepy love letters, stalking, Kiyosumi Katou, and non consensual touching (hugs and kisses)

You’re a female mma fighter who was personally invited by Tokugawa to fight in the tournament. A shame most of the competition has taken a little too much interest in you…

Jack Hanma

You became his acquaintance in the ring just like the others. At first he didn’t think much of you until you gave him some advice for strength and technique after you defeated him. He had never felt such warmth in his life. To not only be seen and acknowledged, but to receive praise and advice rather than insults for his loss. For the first time in a long time, he blushed.

Jack doesn’t like the way his heart pounded in his chest when he sees you or how his palms sweat. It’s so strange… he’s never felt like this before.

You’re very polite and you have a welcoming aura to you. People are automatically drawn to you since you look trustworthy and friendly. Even if you aren’t, people adore you. It honestly annoyed you, but you did your best to try to be nice to everyone (a huge mistake).

Jack insults you all the time. This man has no idea how to flirt so he’s extremely rude to you. He truly means well but he’s not a man of many words. His actions will show you his true feelings but you’re quite clueless on those matters since you’d rather focus on martial arts than a relationship of any kind

“Your hair is down today… it makes you look strange. (Your hair is different today, I like it).” Or “You look pale and malnourished. How are you so incapable of taking care of yourself? (Have you eaten today? Why are you not taking care of yourself properly?)”

“Your outfit is unflattering and inappropriate for this weather. (You look cold).”

Jack will throw his jacket or shirt over you if you shiver, but the garments usually reek of his sweat and musk (and the stench of urine). He acts unphased by your refusal to wear his clothes but it actually deeply upsets him. He’s trying, okay?

Jack is painfully awkward. It’s so sad for Baki to watch his brother try to woe you and you turn him down (since you don’t speak ‘Jack’ nor look past his nagging).

Baki is the one to tell him that he smells and Jack is mortified. No wonder you constantly turned down his clothes… Hygiene after training was never on his mind but he made sure to bathe more often and to no longer reek of sweat and incontinence. He now smelled of pine and musk, a scent you didn’t seem to mind as much.

Jack is even more insistent on you wearing his clothes since the colder season still isn’t over and you still turn him down from time to time. He’s just a bit too overbearing for your taste and extremely difficult to talk to (he’s terrifying)

Jack often inserts his awkward presence between you and the other fighters. In his eyes, he’s keeping you safe from those weirdos. In yours, he’s rudely interrupting conversations you’re trying to have. But in all actuality, he is protecting you. Jack has kept you safe and you’re completely unaware of just how dangerous the others are…

Jack just wished he was able to explain his muddled feelings for you. He’s never had a crush nor has he ever touched someone intimately, he was new to all of this. He just wanted you to understand him.

Jack will eventually tire of your rejection and may become more aggressive with his advances. Especially if you’re more receptive to other’s advances. What does Katsumi have that he doesn’t? Jack is much bigger than him in every way. Just look at him… please look at him. Pick him. Love him.

You’ll eventually be cornered by him once you’re finally alone.

His large arms wrapped around your smaller frame as he pulled you close to his body. You could feel Jack’s heart hammer in his chest, his nose buried into the top of your head. You shivered when Jack deeply inhaled your scent.

“Oh um… can I help you-“ Jack suddenly flipped you around. His cinnamon eyes were wild and his palms were covered in a light sheen of sweat. Was he okay? “Jack.. are you alright?”

“I don’t mind your presence.” Jack furrowed his brows and sighed in agitation. “I… I can’t explain how I feel with words.”

“What do you mean-“ you words were caught in your throat when he leaned down to your level, his hot breath mingled with yours. He then pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head, his entire body trembled like a leaf from the touch.

“I like you, no.” Jack shook his head. “I love you.”

You can’t even utter a word before he placed his hands on either side of your shoulders. His cinnamon eyes brewed a powerful storm of emotion behind him. He meant it, this rude man was madly in love with you. “So pick me. You don’t need anyone other than me in this world. Only I can keep you safe.”

Katsumi Orochi

Katsumi was frustrated with his loss at first. He couldn’t believe he lost to you, an individual who appeared out of literally nowhere. He’s trained most of his life! His entire life was karate and you easily defeated him like he was some sort of beginner!

Yet you didn’t boast to him when he laid in the bloody sand. No, you helped him up and gave him a smile so sweet, his teeth could rot. And you told him that if you hadn’t reacted fast enough, he probably would have defeated you.

“I think you’re really talented. I think you’ll go far in life with your work ethic!” How could someone openly admit that? Most opponents would gloat in his face and yet you didn’t. Your optimism and kindness made his heart flutter. Congratulations! You’re Katsumi’s first crush.

Katsumi invited you to train at Shinshinkai where you often interacted with him, the karatekas, and Retsu. He often found himself admiring you whenever he thought you weren’t looking, which caused him to be teased by the karatekas. Everyone in that dojo knew he had a crush on you… except you.

Katsumi is incredibly sweet. He often compliments you or asks you for a demonstration. Katsumi is eager to learn anything you’d love to teach him.

It’s when you express an interest in learning karate that truly sets his heart ablaze. He gives you a uniform and offered you private lessons. He truly didn’t want any teasing from his students. Plus the two of you could spar to your heart’s content.

But seeing you in a karate uniform really made his mind wander to filthy places. The way the uniform stuck to your sweaty body and how he could almost see into your shirt when you pinned him to the mat. It was entirely too much.

Katsumi will start to ask you out to eat after every training/ sparring session. And how could you ever turn down free food? Your clueless self had no idea that these were dates since the two do you were in casual wear as you explored the town for little treats.

The two of you got along swimmingly. Katsumi found you incredibly easy to talk to… your relationship with him reminded him of Doppo and Natsue’s which made him believe the two of you were romantically interested in one another.

Katsumi never got around to dating due to his devotion to karate. He was inexperienced in every aspect of love other than what he’s seen between his adoptive parents. And he knew that he loved you. Katsumi has never felt this way before in his entire life.

His cheeks flush cherry red when you wipe some crumbs off his face. His words shaky when you give him your utmost attention. Your eyes never left his as he spoke, which only made him all the more nervous. Katsumi believed you were made for him. You’re his soul mate. You were interested in martial arts too and you always made him feel important. Katsumi had to tell you how he felt… he didn’t want to lose his chance.

And it was even worse when he noticed that he wasn’t the only one who held a torch for you. It made him even more competitive to have your hand. Katsumi swore he would be the one to be your lover and eventually, your husband!

So Katsumi began to hog as much of your time as he could at the dojo. He’d ask for more demonstrations and even for your help with his kindergartner class. Katsumi constantly had to adjust his pants whenever you’d affectionately lend a hand to one of the kids. You looked so natural with them… would you want to have kids? Katsumi would love to be the one to father them if you did.

Katsumi’s mind often wandered to fatherhood and marriage with you. You’d look so perfect all plump and round… he had no doubt that your children would be prodigies in martial arts as well. Katsumi looked forward to those blissful, idyllic days. It was guaranteed if you married him!

A shame Katsumi failed to realize that you only saw him as a friend and nothing more…

You jumped when Katsumi’s hand held yours at the dinner table. Your brow quirked at his red cheeks as you slowly chewed your ramen.

“I have something to tell you…” Katsumi blushed while his hands gave yourselves a firm squeeze.

You give him a smile and swallow, your head tilted off to the side. “Of course, Katsumi. You know you can talk to me about anything.”

Katsumi felt his heart flutter and his palms start to sweat a bit. He sucked in a deep breath and gave you the sweetest at you..

“I love you. I’ve loved you from the moment I met you.” Katsumi told you, his eyes searched yours for a reaction. His cheeks remained hot when you didn’t move away from the grip he had on your hand so he took the opportunity to run his thumb over the back of your hand. “Please… I need to know if you feel the same. My love for you keeps me up at night, I can’t help but imagine a life with you.”

You’re at a loss for words as you hesitatingly try to pull away from his grip. Sadly, Katsumi only held onto your hand tighter. “Oh Katsumi, I-“

Your eyes nearly blow out of your head when he pressed a hesitant kiss to your lips. A few tears fell down his face as one of his hands tenderly held your cheek.

“It’s okay, you don’t have to say anything…” Katsumi gave you a loving smile. “I know you love me too.”

Hanayama Kaoru

Hanayama suffered a surprising defeat by your hands, one that would have been shameful… if you had let him lay on his back. Imagine his surprise to hear that you didn’t let him fall over when you knocked him out with a roundhouse kick to the head? That you helped him stand up… he was flattered.

And so, Hanayama bought you a bouquet of roses as thanks. The crimson petals looked flattering against you as you curiously tilted your head off to the side at him.

“You didn’t have to get me anything... I just had a lot of respect for you as an opponent! I can’t believe you were able to tank so many blows from me… you’re really strong.” You gave him a bright smile which made Hanayama shrink back a bit in shock. Did you just compliment him?

Hanayama wasn’t quite used to genuine praise. Sure he’d be praised by his peers, but not from his opponents. Especially not an attractive opponent of the opposite gender.

Hanayama has had his fair share of flings. Most women approached him for superficial reasons, but not you. You were a shining star that shared its warmth with the moon. Someone unattainable yet within reach.

Hanayama simply gave you a bow before he left. He was a man of few words, fewer than the other… but his actions were the loudest.

Hanayama doesn’t actively seek you out, quite the opposite. At first at least. The two of you occasionally bump into one another, which made the gears turn in his head. Perhaps this was a fated meeting. Yes… this was the work of the red string of fate.

And so began his fascination towards you. A small crush that slowly grew into a full blown obsession. One that became overwhelming to him.

It started off with small gifts (at least to him). Jewelry and bouquets of roses. Hanayama adored the flower of love that his mother once loved. He bought dainty jewelry with elegant designs so he had the excuse to see you be adorned with accessories he personally picked out (Kizaki actually picked them out)

Hanayama wasn’t much of a romantic but he was willing to try if it meant he’d earn your affection. He’d wear better cologne and make sure his suit was always clean. He genuinely wanted to impress you, by any means necessary. No cost was too great if it meant you’d belong to him.

He began to write you love letters with surprisingly neat, tiny characters. Poor Kizaki had to help him with the right words at first, the right hand man now officially a wingman. Kizaki would do anything to ensure Hanayama’s happiness.

At first you were flattered, it was so cute to watch Hanayama hang you the letters with rosy cheeks. Who knew he had such a cute side to him? He’d even gift you small clothing articles if he noticed your clothes were too baggy/tight.

But then they began to get darker. The clothing became more revealing and were your exact measurements. You never told him your size! His fantasies began to take hold of him since he wasn’t getting through to you at the same pace he was falling for you. And it was especially worse since the other fighters all hovered around you like flies to honey. It upset him. You were his. You belonged to Hanayama.

Sweet words of innocent love soon turned to the ramblings of an obsessive madman. A fact that even someone as clueless as you understood. You were terrified. Hanayama was now using any means necessary to get you into his arms. It didn’t matter what extremes he had to go to, he has loudly staked his claim on you. What the boss wanted, the boss got.

You nervously smiled at Hanayama who placed a bouquet of ruby roses in your hands. The bouquet nearly swallow you whole with its sheer size. Yet another loud declaration of his love for you. A love you were terrified of.

“Thank you, Hanayama… you don’t have to give me so much.” You shrunk back at the stern look he gave you, you hoped you didn’t come off as ungrateful.

“I can buy you grander gifts if you don’t like them. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do-“

You shook your head and tugged on his sleeve, an action that made his face explode in scarlet. “No, I just feel bad since you’re always going above and beyond. I do appreciate your gifts, I think you’re incredibly sweet.”

Hanayama bowed his head as he adjusted his steam filled glasses. You willingly touched him… did this mean you felt the same way he did? That you had a love for him that burned as much as his? God, he wanted to kiss you so badly… but he had another gift for you.

Hanayama reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a neatly wrapped black box. His obsidian eyes expectantly flitted to your face to see your reaction to his gift. It wasn’t difficult to size you in your sleep since you were such a heavy sleeper, but he needed to ensure this would fit!

You felt your blood run cold when Hanayama got down on one knee. What was he doing? The two of you weren’t even dating!!!

“Be my wife… or I can’t guarantee the safety of your friends and family.” Hanayama gave you the smallest of smiles as he revealed the dazzling diamond ring in the box. His predatory gaze never left your form for a second. “What do you say? Yes or yes?”

Baki Hanma

Baki and you were tied in the finals, a fact that blew his mind. The two of you were even in strength? How was that possible? This was thrilling to him!

Baki began to harp you in public to challenge you to a fight. It didn’t matter where you were. In a restaurant, at a cafe, or at a hot spring, it was on sight!

It was when you mopped him on the floor at a hot spring that he realized how inappropriate he was being. Your eyes filled with a fire he’s never seen before while you put your hands on your towel-clad hips. The towel tied firmly in place over your chest.

“Look, I know you’re still not over the tournament results but I have a lift outside of fighting.” You ran a hand through your hair in annoyance. “We could schedule a fight, but I can’t keep brawling with you on the street. I’m not trying to get arrested for fighting some… kid.”

Baki probably looked like a fish out of water. “I’m not a kid! I’m twenty!” His cheeks flushed pink when you giggled at him. What was so funny?

“Well, you’re a kid to me.” You laugh as you ruffle the short man’s hair. “You have a lot of heart, I think you’ll go far, kid!”

“I am not a kid!” Baki blushed when you just waved him off and walked away. A kid… you thought he was a kid! Baki would show you… he’d show you he was a man… but why did his cheeks feel so hot from your teasing?

You often bump into the red head whose cheeks would always flush red when your eyes would meet. It was really adorable. You always made sure to wave and smile at the younger man. There was something about him that seemed incredibly lonely to you…

And so began a friendship with Baki. You’d go out to eat with him and keep him company. Baki wasn’t used to someone asking him about his day or making sure he ate. He wasn’t used to such genuine care that he melted into a puddle from it.

You were welcoming and bright like a ray of sunshine. You’d listen to his woes and offer him your guidance. It was a stark contrast to the last relationship he had once it had fizzled out. Except there was no nagging on your end, you understood his rigorous training.

The first time you hugged him, Baki nearly cried. You were so soft and warm… like a mother.

It took another month for Baki to realize he had a crush on you. He began to seek out your touch more and would try to spend the night in your home. Baki adored being little spoon and he adored how you took care of him. Baki wanted so much more than this friendship

And as time went on, he noticed how the other fighters hovered around you. Each one of them made attempts to get you to be theirs but Baki began to interfere. He didn’t want to be alone again! He didn’t want to live without your loving warmth.

Baki would insert himself between you and the others. He’d interrupt your food outings with Katsumi, he’d stand between you and Jack (or Hanayama), he’d interrupt Retsu before Retsu could talk to you, etc. Look at Baki and only Baki!

So Baki began to cling to you even more. You couldn’t go a day without the redhead by your side. His arms wrapped tightly around your waist as he clutched onto you like a tick.

The more you tried to avoid him, the worse Baki became. You didn’t want to abandon him, right? He’ll be good to you, he’s just as eligible of a bachelor as the others. He’s also a man despite being younger than you!

“I love you.” Baki whispered into your shoulder before he pressed a soft kiss to the soft skin. His crimson eyes filled with adoration for you. “And I know you’re being hounded by the others, but don’t you think I’d be a better choice?”

You tried to shimmy out of his arms but his muscular arms only tightened around you. It was useless to try to escape the hold of this crimson anaconda. You sighed and placed your hand on his forearm. “Baki, I only see you as a little brother-“

You’re suddenly spun around to face the younger man, his eyes a bit teary. His hands tightly held your arms to your side as he shook. “Is this because I’m younger? I… I can prove to you that I’m a man-“

You reached forward and held his cheeks in your hand. “Baki, it’s just the way I see you. But that doesn’t mean I don’t care about you. Sometimes you just get to be a bit too much.”

Baki melted into your touch, his hands hold yours while your thumbs stroked his beautiful face. Couldn’t you see that this was meant to be? That this relationship could be so much more than platonic?

Baki leaned forward and brushed his lips against yours. His eyes fluttered shut as he softly peppered your lips until he was out of breath. “I love you… I love you so much. I’m willing to fight for you.”

Kaioh Retsu

Retsu had seen you defeat Katsumi with ease. He didn’t get to face off with you, but he was impressed. Especially when he saw that you knew a bit of Kenpo. He didn’t think an mma fighter would incorporate the ancient Chinese martial art, but you had proven him wrong.

The first official meeting with him was at the Shinshinkai dojo. Polite exchanges of one another’s names turned into a deep conversation of martial arts.

“You’re a practitioner of Chinese Kenpo, right?” Your eyes are filled with stars when Retsu nods. “Wow! That’s amazing. I envy your dedication to the craft, you must have been in a temple for years…”

He couldn’t help the butterflies that stirred in his stomach when you express an interest in Kenpo (and an interest in him). You wanted to learn Kenpo over karate? How could he say no?

Retsu taught you the basics of Kenpo and he was amazed with your natural talent for it. It made the butterflies explode in his chest whenever you gave him a bright grin once you caught onto the demonstration he showed you.

Retsu has no experience with women due to being n a temple for so long… so it’s the first time he’s ever been particularly excited. Retsu is so terrified of these new feelings that began to develop for you. But he’s too afraid to ask anyone about what he’s feeling so he does his best to mask the blush on his cheeks.

Retsu found himself making you meals and talking with you about anything and everything. He genuinely enjoyed your company… more than anyone he’s met before.

And so Retsu was in a constant battle with the overwhelming feelings that started to bubble over to the surface. And you trusted him.

“I just feel so safe with you, Retsu. Like nothing bad would ever happen to me if I’m by your side.” You give him a big grin while the two of you sat side by side in a botanical garden. “Thanks for always being so kind to me.”

You’d vent to him about the strange happenings of your peers. Retsu hadn’t realized how troubled you were so he made sure to brew you tea to calm your nerves.

It’s when your hand accidentally brushed against his that made his mind wander to places it never had before. There was no denying how attracted he was to you. How he wanted to pull you into his arms and never let go. How he wanted to keep you safe and far away from all the other fighters who made you uncomfortable. Would you like China? He’d be willing to take you to his home county- no! What on earth was he thinking…

But he refused to succumb to it! He didn’t want to lose you… he didn’t want you to be scared of him or uncomfortable in his presence because he became some animal like the others. Retsu was better than them… because you trusted him.

You lean your head on Retsu’s shoulder, your eyes felt heavier than usual after you drank the tea he brewed you.

“I’m sorry, Retsu.” Your words are a bit slurred but Retsu pet the top of your head in a comforting manner. “I don’t know why I’m so tired…”

“It’s perfectly okay. I can carry you to my room, you can have my futon.” You’re too sleepy to protest when Retsu scooped you up into his arms like some sort of fairytale princess. “I’ll keep you safe, okay?”

You give him a dopey smile and nuzzle your head into his shoulder. Your breathing now steady once you finally succumbed to sleep.

Retsu felt a bit guilty that he had slipped sleeping pills in your tea, but you had such heavy bags under your eyes… which was unacceptable! He could not believe the others never took your health into consideration. What if you fell ill? This was all for your own good.

Retsu brought you into his room and laid you in his futon. His thumb brushed a few hairs from your face in thought. One kiss wouldn’t hurt, right?

Retsu bent down and pressed a shy peck to your lips. His breathing ragged and his cheeks a bright red. That was enough to satiate him for now… he just wanted to keep you safe and healthy.

“I love you more than they ever could.” Retsu whispered while he tucked you in. “I’ll always take care of you. Sweet dreams, Bǎobèi.”

Kiyosumi Katou

Katou was not pleased about your arrival to the dojo. He was humiliated when he lost to you in the first round at the tournament and he hated how everyone crowded around you like you were some gift sent from the heavens. You were just some woman, nothing more.

Katou usually ignored you when you’d train with Retsu or spar with Katsumi. He’d ignore the way the karatekas teased Katsumi or how Retsu’s eyes lingered on you for too many seconds. Katou didn’t understand what was so special about you.

So Katou did what he did best, he insulted you. At first it started behind your back but eventually he grew enough confidence to say it to your face… a mistake on his part.

“How about we settle this with a spar?”

You ended up mopping the floor with him. His arms flailed as he tried to free himself from your rear naked choke. Your feet were way too close to his most sensitive areas than he would have liked and there was no doubt in his mind that if your feet came any closer, he’d cream his pants.

Katou eventually admitted defeat and gasped for air like a fish out of water. Drool and snot fell down his face. He couldn’t believe how pathetic he was- Katou was shocked when you used your sleeve to wipe his mouth and nose off. He didn’t understand why you took the time to clean him up and check on him when he had been horrible to you

“You should really focus more on your karate. You have so much potential.” You offer him your hand which he hesitantly took. Katou marveled at how soft your palms were compared to his… how small your hand was. “Perhaps we’ve gotten on the wrong foot, but I’m willing to start over.”

Since that day, Katou now understood why the other men flocked to you like sheep. You were strong and yet you were kind. You were confident yet humble. You were everything he wasn’t and rather than be envious of you, Katou now desired you. He yearned for you more than anything.

Thanks to you, he took his karate more seriously. Katou sought out your praise. His eyes filled with greed when he gazed upon your sweaty form. He felt his pants tighten and his palms sweat whenever you led give him a smile and a few words of praise.

“You’re doing amazing. You’ve improved so much, Katou.”

Katou’s heart flutters whenever you say his name and he just can’t get enough of you. He has to have you. Even if not fully, he’s happy with crumbs… which is why he began to steal your soiled undergarments from your gym bag. He needed this… he needed a piece of you. Katou needed more than what the dojo provided him.

Katou began to stalk you. In his mind, he knew he didn’t stand a chance to work his way into your heart so he followed you in the shadows. He was voyeur to how all the other fighters fought for your attention. Katou wished you would look his way more… he may not have been as strong as the others, but he was willing to be completely devoted to you

He began to write you notes (that he kept to himself), he took pictures of you when you weren’t paying attention, pictures of you sleeping, and he’d even dig through your trash. Which was only when he’s been without your attention for a few days. Katou knew he was sick. That the way he felt wasn’t normal, but he had no intention to stop. A part of him even wanted you to catch him in the act so you could call him every name in the book.

Yet the more rational part of him was sickened with himself so he’d drown himself in booze once a week. A vulnerable time where you finally ran into him outside the dojo…

“Katou? Are you alright?” You furrowed your brow at Katou who sat on the side of the road. His cheeks were a rosy red and he reeked of cheap cigarettes and beer. There was not a doubt in you that he was drunk out of his mind.

“D-don’t look at me…” Katou slurred his words as he pulled his jacket up to try cover his face. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”

You frown and bent down to hold his cheeks, which made more color bloom to his face. Katou’s breath hitched when you checked his temperature. “Katou, I’m a bit worried about you. Have you been eating properly? Please tell me you didn’t drink on an empty stomach…”

Katou sighed dreamily as he leaned into your hands. He felt as if he was on cloud nine since you finally paid him some attention. “You always worry for me and care for me even though I don’t deserve it.”

“Everyone deserves care-“ You’re shocked when Katou began to pepper your palms with kisses. You could smell the alcohol on his breath and feel his heartbeat through each featherlight peck. “Katou? What are you?”

“I love you.” Katou’s eyes studied your face for a reaction, his heart hopeful that you wouldn’t reject him like you had the others. “I know I’m not the strongest or the best looking, but I love you. I’m willing to do whatever it takes for your eyes to be on me.”

“Katou-“ You gasped when he glided his tongue across your palm. You tried to recoil your hands but Katou firmly held them in place.

“Please, just indulge me once.” Katou begged as his body shook like a leaf. “Please... You don’t even have to do anything other than let me adore you.”

Part 2 coming soon…

I’d love to write more and tips would be appreciated. Please buy me a coffee?

[ozzgin]

May I ask, what are each of the yokai harems love languages?

Featuring the six demons and their ways of showing love! Content: gender neutral reader, fluff

[Main Story] | [Character Guide] | [More Headcanons]

Murasaki will mostly show his love through acts of service. He may seem standoffish and cold, but he will always take care of you. If you get sick, he’ll huff and puff about humans being weak and pathetic, all while spoon feeding you some intricate soup he carefully cooked for hours to make sure you get back on your feet; then he'll adjust your pillow with a frustrated sigh, and occasionally check that you’re properly tucked in (with a frown).

In return, I think he’d greatly appreciate words of affirmation. He’d never show it, but he will absolutely blush to himself hours later because you brought up how helpful or smart he is. W-well, obviously. Who else is going to look after you as well as him? Hmph.

Kiritsubo is all about physical touch. He loves feeling your warmth and hearing your heartbeat, to the point you sometimes have to physically remove him off of you. Forget asking for a jacket if it’s cold, he’ll just attach himself to you.

Besides returning his affections, he will absolutely adore the occasional praise. Watch him power up in real time just because you told him he’s doing a good job. He’ll turn to you in the middle of the fight just to ask, “did you really mean it?”, and then continue slaying his foes with a goofy smile on his face. You really did mean it, huh.

Suma enjoys hanging out with you. In fact, it's the highlight of his day. There's nothing better than returning from his training and seeing your little human face. Even better if you happened to join him for a quick practice. Additionally, he's a very touchy demon, but he is painfully aware of the colossal difference in strength and size. Just one brief moment of him getting too comfortable, and you may end up with a broken bone. Sorry, he was really looking forward to that hug.

Unlike the other yokai, Suma doesn't care much for praise. On the other hand, he'll be extremely grateful if you're the one initiating intimacy. This way he doesn't have to worry about accidentally hurting you, and - something he'd never openly admit - he finds your struggles quite endearing. Having to stand on your toes to reach for a mere hug, holding his finger with your entire hand...precious.

Yuugiri has two ways of showing he cares: physical touch and words of affirmation. He's painfully observant and thus particularly skilled at saying the right thing. If you're having a bad day, he will immediately know the cause of your troubles. Within moments, he'll have you on his lap, stroking your hair and soothing you with compliments. "Of course I'm right, (Y/N). No one knows you better than me."

When it comes to himself - you guessed it - Yuugiri will never say no to some praise. Normally he's rather indifferent to sweet words, finding them plain and boring. Anyone else complimenting his looks in ample detail, and he'll grimace in irritation. But it's enough for you to casually remark his kimono has a nice pattern, and he'll be twirling his hair like a maiden all day long. "My, you think so? Maybe I should wear this style more often, huh?"

Sekiya does his best to be useful: bringing you a cup of tea after a long day of exorcising spirits, or massaging your shoulders to release some tension. You sometimes have to remind the anxious demon that he doesn't need to be a servant to earn your affections. Ideally, there would be a lot of physical touch involved, but he often hesitates, clouded by the fear of annoying you too much.

Therefore, any kind of intimate gesture is enough to get his tail wagging. Pair it up with a little praise, and he'll be dizzy with delight. Sekiya loves being acknowledged by you. He'd probably risk his life in a heartbeat just for a headpat from his one and only Master. The poor yokai worships the ground you walk on.

Sakaki loves spending quality time with you, especially if it’s away from everyone else. Whether you’re painting together, or taking a quiet stroll through some graveyard, know he will be having a blast - despite his gloomy expression. Additionally, he enjoys bringing you little gifts that remind him of you. Although his tokens of adoration can be a little…unconventional. Last time it was a polished rodent skull he found in the forest, because it reminded him of your fragile, yet eternal bond.

One quick way to soften him up is by praising his art and poetry; he will immediately crumble into theatrical confessions, declaring that no one else truly understands him like you do. You're his forever muse, his reason to await the next coming day.

[ranticore]

so what exactly is a 'crawling beast of the earth' and why did harpies have to develop such extreme modifications just to defend against them?

nobody really knows what the crawling beasts are except the wyrms, and they're not telling anyone. the beasts take many forms but commonly they are eyeless and worm-like with large jaws but no mouths. they do not eat, they show no signs of intelligence, and it seems that all they do is crawl and bite. their bodies have a high heavy metal content and by their very presence they leach toxic waste into the earth around their burrows that destroys organic life. although nobody really knows what they are or where they came from, it's universally acknowledged that crawling beasts are not monsters or natural animals. monsters - not animals - are able to physically touch a crawling beast without being poisoned and you can kill one by ripping it to shreds, but the easiest way to kill one is to throw their bodies on a pyre.

in terms of behaviour they seem to show no response to injury or environmental stimulus but always crawl or burrow towards the highest concentration of large living creatures they can sense (through means unknown). if one gets within biting distance they will bite.. even if there's a layer of topsoil between you and them. they do not notice others of their own kind and can mindlessly form huge aggregations underneath villages or settlements, fouling one another until eventually the sheer volume and mass of the pile-up spills onto the surface.

the purpose of the beasties, in this setting, is to provide a common enemy that can be a catalyst for human and monster cooperation. they're kind of a macguffin that makes everything else happen, but i like them because they're undefined and terrifying for everybody. one big crawler will destroy a field of crops in one night and make the soil barren, and that can be the difference between making it through the winter and starving, in a small village. crawlers are the reason flighted harpies fear touching the ground. the whole land is infested with them (the sea, too) and their numbers are only growing.

for most harpies, attaining the size and strength (and talons) necessary to fight a crawling beast would reduce their ability to neatly and accurately forage or hunt their normal animal prey. so instead of everyone developing this weaponry, instead only one guy in a flock does, and thereafter he's the flock's bodyguard. kings suck at hunting and foraging. because even regular eagle harpies are naturally pretty big and pointy, they are the first choice for human falconers who want a partner who can swoop down, snatch up a crawling beast, and drop it on a fire. solitary monsters fare the best here since they usually don't attract any crawling beasties, except when they're pressganged by humans (or other monsters) into helping the general pest control effort.

only wyrms are known to hunt and eat crawling beasts.

[stonegoldsxcrxt]

Ah, Star Wars fans. Once again perpetuating the Draco in Leather Pants trope to the point where we're all sick of it. Do I have to beat someone with the 'He's-Supposed-To-Be-Evil' Stick or something?

yeah. the acolyte itself as a show is straddling a line right now that, I'm sorry, I kind of don't think the Star Wars fandom at large is media literate enough to understand.

I've already seen a number of tiktoks and tumblr posts saying, "omg now I understand reylos," which besides being exhausting and annoying, immediately proves my point. There's obviously some differences between reylo and whatever osha/qimir is called within both production and the narrative, but overall what I'm baffled by every. single. time. is how weirdly everyone in the star wars fandom reacts to an attractive male villain blatantly manipulating a young woman.

I think the acolyte is clearly aiming for us to see and understand that Qimir is manipulating Osha. We know Qimir is clever. We saw him successfully worm his way out of being caught by the Jedi by playing up the "quirky sidekick" shtick. What I don't think a lot of the audience picks up on is just how smart he is. During one of his and Osha's conversations, he lets her suggest things and make assumptions, ie:

Osha: Where’d you get that scar?

Qimir: How do you think I got it?

Osha: Looks like someone stabbed you in the back.

Qimir: Someone who threw me away.

Osha: Your Jedi Master?

And then he doesn't correct her or elaborate. He lets her assume the worst. He lets her imagination wander. He's not interested in explaining because he knows the real story, whatever it may be, doesn't make him look as favorable as her idea. It's exchanges like that that are subtle examples of his manipulation, less obvious than the outright goading he uses against her when he gets her to admit she thinks of herself as a failure and that's why she left the Jedi.

There's also the earlier exchange:

Osha: He’s found me before, and his strength in the Force is very powerful.

Qimir: You think that’s his strength? That’s your strength in the Force, Osha. Someone ought to teach you that.

To a lot of people, that sounds like a compliment. But it isn't. Qimir makes a statement vague enough that successfully implies the Jedi have been lying to Osha about her own strength in the Force while also keeping just enough information to himself that he knows Osha will stick around to find out what he meant, instead of swimming to the ship he points out to her right after. And she does exactly that, continues to follow and engage in argument and conversation with him.

In fact, Qimir knows the more Osha talks to him, the more Osha even entertains the idea of talking to him instead of leaving, the more he can get inside her head. His naked swimming jaunt isn't him flaunting or showing off for Osha in some genuinely romantic way– it's yet another manipulation tactic. Though, if she is seduced, that helps him too.

Qimir purposefully makes himself into a vulnerable state in front of her to lull her into a false sense of security. He leaves his weapon with his clothes so she has the opportunity to take it; he is signalling to her that he is "completely" disarmed, though that is not true, since we know he is far stronger in the Force and in combat, and, perhaps, more cunning than Osha. His nudity forces Osha to acknowledge he is human, and Qimir benefits from Osha thinking of him as just a quirky, charming loner who's the victim of the Jedi, who offers her soup and disrobes in front of her.

The reason I know that none of this is genuine is simple. He goes back and forth between flat out acting as if he pities Osha ("Why do you love people who can only go so far?") but that doesn't get him the reaction he's looking for, so he bounces back to antagonizing her ("Why aren’t you a Jedi, Osha?) to finally, convincing her that she is similar to him ("I understand.") None of these things are actually Qimir trying to get to know Osha. Sure, he needs to understand her to manipulate her, but he'd do or say anything to get her to stick around and allow him to corrupt her further.

to me, Qimir is kind of the Star Wars equivalent to like a mimic species in the animal world. He's smart enough to know that in order to get what he wants, he has to act a certain way that isn't necessarily his real personality, and he can exploit Osha's (and anyone else's, for that matter) feelings by molding his personality and actions to achieve his goals so his victims are less likely to notice that he's using them.

The problem is that a big portion of the audience doesn't appear to recognize it, either. We know the rules of the Star Wars universe very well by now. Force Users this deep in the Dark Side cannot actually love someone. Sure, they can be obsessed with someone, but they cannot actually reciprocate feelings as the Dark Side corrupts them.

I've come to the conclusion that the majority of people watching Star Wars are not watching with the intention of picking up on any of this, despite the fact that the acolyte is actually doing it quite masterfully. They are paying attention to Manny Jacinto's muscles, and little else. You cannot argue or convince people who do not want to listen. They did not want to listen in 2017, when the reddest of red flags "You're nothing, but not to me," line was delivered, which had all the subtlety of being hit over the head with an anvil, and they are not listening now. If people are able to be gaslit by Kylo Ren into believing his victim card was validated, they will certainly and inevitably be gaslit by Qimir, who, so far, is much more cunning.

the acolyte even *plans* for this though, deliberately and suddenly cutting to the scene of Jecki's lifeless body, reminding the audience that Qimir is not the quirky, charming, harmless loner who he presents himself to be, but actually a man who we know to be capable of unspeakable acts of violence towards even children. at this point, I can't actually see any reason why the fandom continues to act like he is in love with Osha in any kind of genuine manner when it's so mind-blowingly obvious that he is male manipulator #1.

I think does a huge disservice to the story the acolyte seems to be trying to present at this point to be so blind with lust or whatever it is the fandom feels towards this guy that his own tactics have begun to work on them. it's actually so incredible that it makes me a bit ill. they may find him hot all they want, but for the love of Leia Organa's Star Wars at least recognize his tactics for what they are instead of also allowing yourself to be fooled!!

[bairdthereader]

Charlie Spring, An Appreciation: Part 1, Courage

Nick Nelson gets a lot of love, and justifiably so; I'll be the first to admit that he's amazing (see my many Nick-related posts as evidence). But I hear all too often that Charlie is leveling up by being with Nick, or that Nick is too good for Charlie. I beg to differ—vehemently—and here's why, part 1 (of 3, maybe?).

I often find myself in awe of Charlie during some of the quietest and least dramatic parts of the Heartstopper show and comics, because his bravery, resilience, and tenacity are displayed in ways that seem inconsequential, but are actually incredibly meaningful and telling. This boy has a thread of steel running through him, whether it's obvious at first glance or not.

We see this almost from the very beginning, when Charlie is assigned to a new form and told that he'll be sitting next to Nick, "one of the rugby boys," and, "I'm sure you'll get along swimmingly." Here is not only Charlie's worst personal nightmare, but also a teacher who is blithely unaware of the terrible position he's just put Charlie in--being placed in close, daily proximity to the type of person Charlie associates with the darkest time of his life. But we don't see fear on his face, or even that much dread—this tells us so much about him in just a nanosecond. There's resignation and bitterness, yes, but Charlie knows he can withstand this, because he's been there before and survived. This is borne out in later conversations with Nick where Charlie assures him that "I'm used to it." This is a horrifying injustice, one Nick rightly calls out, and it shows Charlie's resilience in the face of a degree of cruelty that many people never experience.

This little moment outside of the changing room is another revealing scene. Charlie knows exactly what he's walking into, exactly the kinds of comments and sly bullying he's going to experience in that room. He knows he will have to have his guard up every second, that he will have to prove himself to this group, even though he shouldn't have to. He also knows he'll be fighting his own self-doubt, and so this experience will be a battle on two fronts. (Three fronts, if you include trying to hide his feelings for Nick.) But he does it anyway. Sure, you could argue he's doing it solely to be near Nick, but I think this is also his way of making sure that those boys don't dictate his actions or his life. This is Charlie taking a stand. And this is just one example—he does this over and over and over again, in many different settings and situations.

Case in point, calling it off with Ben. Charlie has been the victim of what is essentially brainwashing and abuse from Ben for months. Ben has told Charlie verbally and shown him physically that Charlie means less than nothing to Ben, and that Charlie can never expect anyone to ever want him or care for him. And Charlie often, tragically, believes him. That Charlie is able to break free of this vicious cycle and take the steps to distance himself from Ben shows his immense inner strength. You can see on Charlie's face (thanks to Joe Locke's inimitable talent) that he can't even believe he's done it. And we have to keep in mind that this happens long before Nick is a real possibility, so we can't say Charlie does this for Nick. He does it for himself.

I do have to include one of the more iconic scenes, because this ⬇️is Charlie's clarion call, his hope, his banner, for the rest of this story. He knows he has a lot of problems to work through, that he's complicated and sometimes hard to interpret, so it's easy to see this scene and think Charlie's words come from a place of insecurity (and of course that is some of what's happening here). But he's strong enough to both acknowledge it and ask honestly that Nick not let those parts of Charlie become the focus of their relationship. He requests, even during this moment of almost brutal honesty and vulnerability, that Nick see him completely, as the whole person he can be, because Charlie knows that person is there inside himself. The self awareness and bravery this takes is enormous.

There are a million other moments like this that I could write about, both big and small:

But I'll end this already lengthy post with this: When one considers the amount of sheer courage Charlie has to exert just to live his daily life, it almost defies understanding. Charlie Spring is a gladiator of the mind and heart, completely worthy of any good thing.

[audisive]

♪ LET THE LIGHT IN.

౨ৎ simon 'ghost' riley | reader

synopsis: the mixture of love and hate is a dangerous, but ghost is no stranger to danger.

tags: angst, little bit of comfort, enemies to lovers (?), ghost is a blind bastard as well as stupid, mention of being suicidal (but not really), hate is mistaken for love, mention of unconsented touching

     Hate is a familiar word, ever the old friend. Strong and heavy. It's what fuels him and keeps him going – his strength, both a blessing and a curse. Hate, hate, hate. Ghost hates you; you drive him to hell and back with your word until the thin line between hospitality and hostility blurs and he steps over the other.

There's an old red monster that constantly crawls under his skin, corrupting his brain and his heart. Hatred consumes him at the sight of you. Ghost hates you. At least that's what he thinks.

Fleeting gazes are mistaken for heated glares, tensed jaw an unbreakable habit. There's a fire in his loins when your eye catches his at the right time. Ghost's heart speeds up because you make his blood pressure rise. His guts are twisted and turned to your accommodation without knowing, you're in his thoughts constantly because you're so awful.

Love and hate is black and white, color him blind. There's a fine line between the opposites, and he's ambivalent about you.

Of course he respects you; you're his teammate, – a remarkable one, at that – and he will trust you with his life and his heart in your hands, but as much as possible, he would prefer not having to.

Maybe ye're just no' inta women, LT. It's not that he hasn't considered it; can't help that he stares a little too long at anyone with bright blue eyes as engrossing as— Fuckin' 'ell, Johnny. Or perhaps his own were too dull, too icy, too bland. He lacked his sergeant's passion for nearly everything. A'm just pullin' yer leg.

Oh, but how Simon loves you.

Simon is familiar to you the same way the desert is familiar with the scorching heat of the sun, and despite how it warms you, kisses and burns and scars you, you miss every bit of it – the way he hurts you comfortingly. Loving him feels like snow meeting sand, – unfamiliar and impossible – but if snow can fall on the hottest desert, then who are you to be exempt?

Acknowledging the difference between love and hate is one, admitting that he doesn't feel the other way for you is another. It's not love; you're just part of the team. He repeats the mantra when his fist collides with the face of a man who made the mistake of touching you despite your lack of consent.

Your knuckles are split, sir. He repeats it to himself again when he's forced to sit with his thigh pressed to yours and feels the warmth of your skin against his. I can take care of m'self next time, Ghost.

I know, kid. It's not love. Not when he hushes you instead of yelling and barking orders at you as you bleed out on the floor of the warehouse. "Ghost," you plead for your life, weeping and gasping for air. Your voice breaks. His heart does, too. "I know, lovie. I know." It's not love. Not when he carries you singlehandedly in and out of the chopper, rushing to the medical ward before you can even lose consciousness. Not when he tends to the knife on your side before the bullet in his.

"Sure, the lieutenant isn't much for words, but the way he looks at you..." The knowledgeable (or maybe she just likes gossip) nurse trails off, searching for the right words in the back of her mind. "It's like there's no one else in the world but you – no, actually, he looks at you as if you're the world itself – he looks at you like a god, his. In a way that guarantees anyone that he'd live and repeat the horrors of this life in his next, just for you. And I've never seen him look at anyone like.. that. But now, I see him looking at you. Everyday."

She smiles at you, kind enough to continue. "Don't you think you deserve that kind of dedication? The kind that makes you feel like you're the center of someone's universe?"

You find yourself stunned by her words, your lips parting in the slightest manner. Speechless. She finds more words in your silence. "'Cause I think you do. You do deserve that," she smiles at you knowingly, as if she'd read your fate – as if the stars had told her all there is to know, "and something tells me he could give you exactly that." She's sure of it. 

But Simon is only the ghost of a Ghost. He's fleeting, a glance, a graze, and a kiss.

Too early, too much, not enough, too late. He'd used up every excuse like a box of tissues until he had none, until he'd been left high and dry, until he had no choice but to admit it: he's in love with you in a way that is looked down upon. Desperately, longingly, and horribly so.

If your love was a noose, then Simon is a suicidal man. He wants your love to dig into the skin of his neck, and please take his breath away.

The image of you leaving was embedded into his brain, the same way he had burned the image of you into his mind long ago. His tongue dries with the words and pleads of love, but he thinks he doesn't. So he doesn't. He wants to call out to you – say something that might cause you to pause and turn around, maybe take him with you – but the words don't come, and you leave, taking his heart with you. 

There's a longing that aches beneath his chest, an empty space.

All of the words in the world will not change the reality that he pushed himself into. Life has moved on without the two of you. He has so many things to tell you, but now is not the time.

He calls for your name.

Your breath hitches at his voice before you speak, "good night, lieutenant." You open a barrier between you and him just as you open the door, taking a step out of the seemingly unlived small apartment. His chest is unmoving as an unfamiliar feeling shoots through his veins. He should say something, anything. Say something, bastard.

With lowered pride, his mouth opens just a second too late. He hears the door click shut.

It never will be.

  divider by @cafekitsune !

[burr-ell]

On the subject of Vex's flaws, I think it's interesting to compare and contrast the conversations she has first with Vax and then with Percy in 1x63. Right before the episode break, Vax goes to Vex to talk to her about the title Percy gave her and tells her that while he appreciates that it made her happy, to him it's like "gilding a lily" and that she's "already perfect" to him. She insists her strength is an act and he immediately replies "bullshit".

Immediately after the break, Vex seeks out Percy, and thanks him for the title and tells him how much it meant to her that he took up for her that way. Percy says a title is "mostly there to remind you you don't really need it" and "it doesn't change anything", and they have a brief discussion about the logistics of what her title means. He teases her that "I imagine you're eventually going to become very insufferable" but then adds that "you have to be".

Now on its face it seems like Percy's saying the same thing Vax is! But there are a couple of crucial differences. For one thing, the comments Percy makes about her becoming "insufferable" (and then that actually she should be) are clearly playful, but it's also an acknowledgment that she can be exasperating. Lighthearted it may be, but it tells Vex that Percy's not afraid of her flaws or put off by the ways she could potentially be annoying. For another, he openly admits that she doesn't actually have any land—the land isn't his to give; it's Cassandra's, as the actual ruler of the city. Percy's promising her what he CAN give her, with an honest explanation of what that is. Like with the come-from-money conversation, he's being both kind and objective. It's at this point where he says a title "doesn't change anything", and I think that allows Vex to see his gesture for the totality of what it is and make her own choice about what she does with it. It's like the arrows; he's giving her the tools to forge her own path, trusting her judgment.

Now I'm not at all hating on Vax here, but I do think Vex's conversation with him revealed some flaws in their relationship. Vax only emphasizes how Vex is cool and strong, and when Vex directly states that it's an act, Vax dismisses this and says he needs her to keep being strong. And he clearly means well! But it's a fascinating choice from Laura to go from that conversation and then talk to Percy the first chance she gets, and one of the things that says is that Vex does not trust Vax's judgment of her in that moment. He's her brother, and he just explicitly said she's perfect! Vex has, by this point, started to see her own flaws clearly enough that just telling her how amazing she is doesn't address the issue, and she's less inclined to trust the opinion of someone who does it. She wants to know that someone can see her flaws, assess her honestly, and still love her.

And the conversation with Percy shows Vex someone who looks at her and sees through her, who has seen and done terrible things and is clever and pragmatic and ruthless, someone who does his best to evaluate a situation as objectively as possible and someone who's striving every day to become better. And that person trusts her, wants to see her succeed, and gives her everything he can to make that happen.

[moodymelanist]

Loads of Fun

happy day 3 of @cassianappreciationweek everyone! we were having a very silly convo in the gc one day about whether illyrians could use their wings for assorted things, and somehow using their wings to dry their own laundry came up and here we are LOL. hope y'all enjoy and see you tomorrow for lover day!!

Summary: Cassian spends the morning training with his daughters.

Word Count: 1,535

Read on AO3 here!

⚔⚔⚔⚔⚔ Cassian

“Papa, how much longer!”

“My back hurts!”

“Papa!”

“I hate this! I’m telling Mama!”

“And Uncle Azriel!”

Cassian just grinned from where he was standing a few feet away, completely unfazed at his daughters’ outbursts. “Does all this complaining make your wings beat faster? I’ll have to try it sometime.”

Although Azriel tended to handle the girls’ flying training – on account of Cassian being unable to stand the thought of one of them getting hurt, no matter how necessary it was for them to learn – Cassian liked stepping in from time to time, especially when it meant spending more time with his daughters. He could train them right here at home, using the large clearing behind their modest home in Illyria instead of relying on someone to winnow the girls back and forth to wherever Azriel had deemed an acceptable training spot for the season.

Besides, maybe if he tired Seraphina and Nasima out enough today, he and Nesta would finally have more than a measly quarter of an hour alone for the first time in a long time. It was a win for everyone involved, as far as Cassian was concerned; the girls might have different views on the matter, but he wasn’t asking them.

Sera and Nasima continued their grumbling, but they did their best to keep up with the task Cassian had set for them: using their wings to dry some freshly washed clothes. It was a task that would’ve taken the space of a breath if they were using their magic, but that was cheating where building their strength was concerned. Cassian didn’t expect all the clothes hanging on the line to be dry by the time they were finished, but he was keeping his eye out for at least a few of their shirts to be dry to the touch before he let them off for the rest of the day.

“But Papa,” Sera whined, pouting in a way that reminded Cassian of himself at that age. She looked so much like him that it was like staring in a mirror, although she had enough of Nesta’s bone structure that it was a much prettier version. “This isn’t fun!”

“Who said it was supposed to be fun?” Cassian asked with a grin. He was having fun, but that wasn’t the point. “And keep your voice down, Sera. Your mother’s sleeping.”

Nesta had spent the evening before with Emerie and Gwyn, a much-needed reprieve from all the running around she typically did. She’d been so tired the last few days that instead of waking her up with the sun to train as usual, Cassian had let her sleep undisturbed, only waking their daughters this time instead of the entire family. Nesta might pretend to grumble about it later, but they’d both know the truth.

“Maybe if we wake her up, she’d come save us,” Sera muttered to Nasima. Cassian decided not to even acknowledge the comment, not wanting to egg her on even further and risk Nesta’s wrath. 

“Not worth it,” Nasima replied, wise beyond her years at an adorable eight years old. She and Sera were closer in age than most fae children – only four years apart – and it had given them the kind of bond that made Cassian fiercely proud of his family. “Mama’s not as nice in the mornings.”

Cassian had to hold back his laugh; that was putting it mildly. Nesta was adorably grumpy most mornings, though she mostly reserved that for him and not for their children. She was so gentle with them that it made him wonder just how hellish those early years with her own parents had been, but mostly it made him stand around and smile like a lovesick youngling every time she so much as brushed a curl out of Sera’s face or bent down to press a kiss to Nasima’s temple.

“Come on, keep your wings up,” Cassian told his daughters, not missing a beat. “My trousers aren’t going to dry themselves!”

“They would if you let Mama help,” Sera retorted. 

“He won’t,” Nasima said, her little face all screwed up from the physical exertion. 

“If I let her help all the time, you won’t learn anything useful,” Cassian pointed out. Deciding to go in a different direction, he added, “And your wings will be so scared they’ll hide all the time. Like Uncle Rhys.”

Almost on cue, Cassian felt Rhys’ dark talons tap gently against his mind. Cassian opened the gates just enough for Rhys to tell him, I heard that, Cass.

Lighten up, brother, Cassian answered. I was just kidding!

We’ll see who’s kidding in a few minutes.

Rhys disappeared from Cassian’s mind, his presence instead replaced by the feeling of Nesta stirring to consciousness, a bit of confusion coming through the bond as she woke up alone and with the sun higher in the sky than she was used to. He figured it was only a matter of time before she came outside to investigate what was going on, and he silently cursed Rhys for waking her up before Cassian had gotten the chance to make her morning tea.

“Cassian,” Nesta said once she came outside, her eyebrows slowly inching closer to her hairline as she took in the scene before her. She hadn’t even bothered changing out of her nightclothes, but she’d at least grabbed her thick robe and some slippers before making her way outside. “What in the Mother’s name are you doing?”

“Good morning to you too, sweetheart,” Cassian said back with a wide grin. He waited until she’d taken a few more steps so he could snap out one of his wings to gently nudge her closer, his happiness only growing at the feeling of having his mate at his side. 

“Well?” she questioned, snaking an arm around his waist and leaning into his side. 

“I’m so glad you asked,” he responded. He ignored the girls’ audible eye rolls as he leaned down and pressed a kiss to her cheek, right where there was an adorable little line from the way she’d leaned against the pillow in her sleep. “We’re working on stamina today.”

“Are you now,” she replied with a tone that showed just how little she believed him. 

“We are,” he told her with a barely-concealed chuckle. “They’re loving it.”

“No we’re not!” Sera yelled, though the effect was lost with how out of breath she sounded. “This is terrible, Mama!”

“It’s what I had to do,” Cassian retorted without missing a beat. “And look how strong I am now!” 

Nesta snorted. “If you insist, Cassian.”

“I do insist,” Cassian replied, lowering his voice so only Nesta could hear. Sera and Nasima wouldn’t hear them between the sounds of their wings flapping and Sera’s nearly nonstop string of complaints and minor Illyrian swear words. “I’d throw you over my shoulder right now if I could.”

“Not in front of the girls, you insatiable old bat,” Nesta grumbled, her cheeks turning a delightful shade of pink. She fixed him with a look, silently threatening him to behave before she refocused her energy on their daughters. “Seraphina! I heard that!”

Cassian had been so absorbed with his mate that he hadn’t even noticed Sera’s switch from minor to more serious Illyrian swears, though of course Nesta had. Sera’s hazel eyes went wide at being called out, and she threw a sheepish look at Nesta.

“Sorry, Mama,” Sera replied, still sheepish. Nothing got past Nesta, whether it was in Illyrian or the common tongue, and almost nothing pleased Cassian more than hearing Nesta speak his mother tongue. “I didn’t mean to.”

“That’s alright, Sera,” Nesta answered with a reassuring smile. She looked back to Cassian and asked, “How much longer do they need to do this? Feyre wants to take them to her studio later.”

“Until my trousers are dry,” Cassian told her, already suspecting that she was up to something. 

“Would you look at that,” Nesta said with a wry smile. Her fingers barely twitched and all the clothes on the line magically dried out and began folding themselves. “All the laundry is dry!”

Both of the girls cheered and immediately stopped flapping their wings, Sera dramatically dropping to the ground and laying on her stomach to give herself a break. Nasima was much more dignified about it, sitting down slowly and sliding onto her stomach to let her smaller wings spread out. They were undoubtedly getting grass and mud and Enalius knew what else in their dark hair and all over their adorable little faces, but neither of them seemed to mind.

“Mama saved you this time,” Cassian warned them, holding back a laugh at how funny they looked on the hard-packed earth, “but don’t always count on that.”

“We’ll see,” Nesta countered. She slipped out from under Cassian’s wing and started walking back to the house, tossing over her shoulder, “Can I count on you to make some breakfast?”

“We’ll see,” Cassian repeated, teasing. He didn’t need to look at his mate to know she was rolling her eyes, and he grinned at her retreating figure before turning back to their daughters. “Come on, little ones. Let’s not keep Mama waiting.”

tag list: @perseusannabeth | @bookstantrash | @fieldofdaisiies | @goddess-aelin | @c-e-d-dreamer | @talkfantasytome | @whyisaravenlike-awritingdesk | @sv0430 | @talibunny30 | @unlikelypersonalknight1 | @champanheandluxxury | @lilah-asteria | @burningsnowleopard | @sayosdreams | @readskk | @simpingfornestaarcheron | @bellaful08 | @readergalaxy | @podemechamardek | @pearlfortears | @nerdperson524 | @jmoonjones | @kale-theteaqueen | @autumnbabylon | @hiimheresworld | @illyrianshadowhunter | @dustjacketmusings | @live-the-fangirl-life | @that-little-red-head | @sweet-pea1 | @brieq | @queercontrarian | @jsmelodies | @afflicted-with-wanderlust

[epickiya722]

The way I'm seeing this so far (because the chapter ain't officially out and the manga isn't done) when it comes to Sukuna's "conclusion" is this...

It reflects how he is.

True, we haven't gotten much about his backstory. Some of it we did through the little flashbacks and whatever else other characters had said about him.

And when he does go out, we don't get any inner thoughts of his.

But to me, just me now, it reflects that Sukuna is a person that doesn't care to reveal much about himself. He states in 265 that he "doesn't feel anything". We know that's not true but that what Sukuna wants to be believed. He's closing himself off, but he isn't just closing himself off.

He's closing himself off to Yuji.

Look, Sukuna is an arrogant guy and he will not admit to being human, especially to Yuji. Even though Yuji has been the one person to at least try to understand him.

Us not knowing much about Sukuna till the "end" is just another one of those instances where he's being closed off. If we knew his inner thoughts, it's knowing a vulnerable piece of him. Sukuna doesn't want to show his vulnerability. He doesn't want to admit to his humanity. It's just how he is.

I'll admit, I do think something did happen in Sukuna's life that made him that way but I also think it doesn't exempt him from the actions he takes. If Gege was going to give us a backstory, I do feel like some may have used it to excuse his actions, not understand them.

Going back through this translation, he didn't seem like Sukuna even rejected Yuji here. At least not outwardly.

Instead, it's just him rejecting the idea of him being human and claiming he's a "curse". Maybe not literally, before any of you "Sukuna isn't a curse" jump me. It's him stating "I'm a misfortune on your life".

Which is true. Even before Yuji was born, Sukuna was already a curse in his life. He was made to be his vessel. This is something that Sukuna does know (chapter 257).

His final words here isn't him rejecting Yuji's offer to still coexist, even if no one accepts him (Sukuna). Sukuna acknowledges that offer in his own Sukuna way. He knows he and Yuji will always be one in the same while. Even in death, Sukuna is still part of Yuji and vice versa.

The "don't underestimate me" part just feels... like he's going "Alright, but don't expect me to make this easy on you".

I do have some thoughts about Yuji's side on this, but I'm leaving that for a separate post.

I'm not done.

In another post, I did agree that Sukuna's ending feels underwhelming and I still don't think it's a bad thing.

Going back to the curse thing. Sukuna isn't technically a curse, but the way the others treats him makes him feel like he is a curse. He's a human who happen to behave like one.

While Gojo went in fighting Sukuna for a challenge, just he was another opponent that he (Gojo) did aim to kill and Kashimo after, the others went to take down Sukuna because...

THAT'S THE JOB OF A JUJUTSU SORCERER!!

Sukuna was a Special Grade curse they all had to plan and work together to take down.

This was just another day on the job for them, of course the ending was going to be "lackluster". It was no different than Shibuya!

Once Yuji and the others jumped in to fight Sukuna, it became a job. Yuji will probably be the only person to think over this and find more meaning to it because it's who is he. The others? They didn't have any kind of attachment to Sukuna. Megumi was just his hostage and temporary vessel, nothing else. Megumi feels nothing for Sukuna, but anything negative.

Nobara? Nope.

Toge, Maki and Panda? Nuh uh.

Kinji? He was fighting Sukuna's right hand, but I bet he doesn't like Sukuna.

How about Kirara? Nope! Kusakabe? Nah. Higurama? Sukuna acknowledges his strength but Higurama acknowledged his role he had to play, Sukuna wasn't anything to him.

Choso? Sukuna definitely had some vendetta against him and Choso damn sure didn't like him.

Anyone else? Nope.

And Kashimo and Gojo (and Higurama, but it wasn't mutual) were just opponents Sukuna took pleasure in fighting.

Other than that, just a job. Killing Sukuna was just a job.

So, of course, the end was "underwhelming". This may be a story in the shonen genre, but not all stories will follow the usual formula of any genre in clean cut fashion. Jujutsu Kaisen just happen to be one of those stories because in this story, being a jujutsu sorcerer isn't about being a Hero or "righteous" or "I'm the best". It's an ever-going cycle of fighting curses (and sometimes there is other meanings to it) and Sukuna just happened to have been one of those curses.

[blueskittlesart]

can we talk about how rauru is literally like. just zelda’s dad. like in that one scene where zelda looks like she’s gravely contemplating turning into a dragon and then rauru goes “i believe the answer lies in more research and understanding your power!” and she looks at him with such shock and awe. zelda’s adventures in the past are literally like her life but with a better dad. the queen promises her to help her figure out her power but dies before they can figure out a way how to use that power to safely save everyone. zelda desperately wants to help everyone and is clearly feeling the pressure of it all and the king is the one to tell her “hey i understand how hard you’re trying and how much you want to save everyone and we’re thankful for what you’re doing”. rauru actually acknowledges zelda’s dedication and the importance of research and technology, he is kind to her and never blames her for any of the bad things happening. he also never pushes zelda to make sacrifices and is the one sacrificing himself in the end - in botw, all the champions and zelda have to choose to make sacrifices to save the kingdom, but in totk rauru doesn’t ask that of any of the sages, instead recognizing his own responsibility as king and basically dying to save his kingdom. he’s literally zelda’s better dad.

same anon as the one raving about rauru also the differences between how the two kings treat link. they’re both tutorial figures but the way they guide is SO different. pretty much the first thing rhoam does is lie and pretend to be a random old man, being quite annoying as he sends link to do a bunch of challenges for a paraglider. the framing is so fundamentally different, rauru freely offers the information he has to link upfront, he apologises for the body modification, acknowledging link’s potential distress. rhoam basically keeps link on the plateau arbitrarily, presenting giving items and teaching link about things as challenges for link to overcome. rauru on the other hand aids link as best he can, tells him what he needs to do from the beginning (tells him to open the door which is pretty much the last thing he’ll need to do in the tutorial, telling him about the ultimate goal from the beginning), proposes solutions when it doesn’t work out (directs him to the shrines as a way to help him gain the strength he needs, as opposed to making him complete challenges to get a paraglider that in the moment seems like literally arbitrary conditions). rhoam telling link how much responsibility and pressure he has on him all of a sudden and how much he needs to do vs rauru telling link that it was wonderful to meet him and zelda’s accounts of him were all true. like. the framing. the difference in character. the deterioration of knowledge within hyrule falls parallel to the deterioration of its king’s kindness and virtue.

the differences between rauru and roham are crazy to me because one of them was so fundamentally good and one was so fundamentally flawed and yet. neither of them were able to save their kingdom. no matter how good a king of hyrule is, no matter what he gets right or wrong, he is still doomed to die. rhoam tried to sacrifice his daughter to keep hyrule alive. rauru did everything in his power to make sure she DIDNT have to be sacrificed. and in the end the outcome was the same. but the KINGS were not the same, and that difference in framing you mentioned i think is fundamentally a difference in legacy. rhoams legacy is to forever be the king who sacrificed children to save himself and died anyway. rhoam died a loser through and through, a king atop a throne of nothing but failure. i think that’s partially why he appears as an old man at first, because he KNOWS what being the king of hyrule means and he’s EMBARRASSED that his legacy is what it is. but rauru. in complete contrast, rauru was so GOOD. rauru died with his sages and his DAUGHTER alive to see another day. rauru ENSURED they’d live no matter what. he wouldn’t LET them sacrifice themselves for him. rauru put everyone else before himself. he didn’t expect or even tolerate self-sacrifice and yet when the time came he sacrificed HIMSELF selflessly despite knowing that it wouldn’t even WORK. rauru’s legacy is something to be proud of. he’s open to link because he has nothing TO hide. no regrets or stupid decisions. and he is remembered so much more favorably because of it.

[hanhonymous]

The Trainee’s workplace authenticity

One of my favorite things about workplace TV shows is when the characters actually do work. AND when the details of such work are not only relatively accurate, but also essential to how the characters relate to themselves, the world and each other. So far, "The Trainee" is giving that to me in the first two episodes.

Having interned/been an assistant at a TV production company and later moving to entertainment journalism and managing interns/junior writers there, I can appreciate both Ryan's and Jane's POVs. Here's what I liked so far:

Good Pick's pink tube slide and movie theater seats in the lobby - A lot of these entertainment-adjacent companies take a cue from Silicon Valley and have this frivolous, frat-boy design aesthetic -- bean bag chairs, foosball tables, etc. I worked in an office that had a ping-pong table. The idea is to make it fun enough that people want to stay in the office and work longer, which isn't really all that great. You stop seeing that fun stuff after a while and just want to get home. That said, I'd love to work in a company with a fire pole in it, but that would be too much of a liability.

Ryan's fluke hiring - Baimon totally hearing what he wants to hear from Ryan in that sham interview is hilarious but sadly not all that unusual. What sucks is that this is unfair to the manager who then must work with the unqualified person, and unfair to that person hired also, who isn't the best fit for the position. I've been the person saddled by the unfortunate hire and have had to make do … and sometimes you can figure it out, but often you're left doing extra work to make up for their deficits. If it's just an intern, no problem -- they'll be gone in a few months. I felt Jane's pain!

Ryan's uncertainty & silence - That said, Ryan clearly wants to do well but is out of his depth since this was not even what he was learning in school. I remember the first day as a journalist for a small company where I kind of was on my own, and nobody told me what to do. I was like, "WTF??" Part of you doesn't want to ask questions lest you expose your imposter identity, but you're also wondering just how long you can do nothing before someone notices.

The printer always breaks down -- always. You get pretty good at troubleshooting everything until resorting to calling a technician

Jane's prickly demeanor - The fact is that in any company, people who are competent can move up, but that doesn't automatically infuse them with good managerial skills. I think workshops, etc. are a must for anyone who gets promoted and suddenly have people reporting to them. Everyone can get frustrated when they're overwhelmed, so I do have some sympathy for Jane. He does have one skill that I think is essential to be a good manager: identifying and acknowledging the strengths of an employee. It really makes all the difference that he finally sees Ryan as an asset, not a hindrance.

Ryan's skills aren't that bad at all - As soon as Ryan tells his family that he's no help to anyone at work, he immediately shows five different ways how much he's relied on by his family. Yes, people who are competent, reliable and can anticipate needs (like how his sister needs to be reminded to charge the battery after using the camera) will be able to apply those skills to other situations and can go far. Ryan just needs to familiarize himself with the industry first in order to know how he can fill in the gaps. (I believe in being able to change careers and taking big pivots in life.)

The interns banding together - OMG I remember sometimes just being unsupervised while trying to get a project together, and there is a strange bond you have being the youngest and least experienced. And you do have the most stupid conversations.

Being one cog in a bigger machine - I really appreciate how they show all the different departments that have to come together to make one project work -- especially when last-minute changes need to be implemented or a persnickety client has opinions. You complain, you worry, you put in extra late hours and have to make 11th-hour fixes -- but it's so satisfying to see it all come together. Shit goes down, and you fix it.

Hiring extras - The hiring of extras at Good Pick was different from what I've experienced. I actually have been an extra, and what I'm used to is being part of a company or agency that has you in their database, and then you get picked or cast by that company and sent to your gig. But that's in Hollywood and for TV shows & movies. It's probably different for ad houses or in Thailand, but I did like how they showed that it is still a casting process. There are deliberate decisions made, and certain looks sought out. I thought it was hilarious that Ryan's first thought for hiring the salaryman was to get an uncle from the same restaurant as the auntie. If he had his way, everyone in that restaurant would be hired for some gig or another.

Ryan getting scammed by the extra - I was screaming at Ryan as soon as he offered to pay that scammer extra. Just … no, boy. You had to have known that was shady. BUT despite being duped, he was willing to think on his feet and try to solve a problem by being proactive, and that does happen. And so do mistakes. He just needs to calibrate his radar for what is OK. (I'm glad Jane saw that.) Ryan is lucky that it only cost him 1,000 baht for that lesson.

Extras must be on hand and wait - OK this is a scene in the preview for Episode 3, but I was so happy to see it: Extras in Hollywood actually cannot just spend 5 minutes or whatever to do their job, even if that's how much you see them onscreen. There's a ton of hurry up and wait on film sets, and so extras have to stay in Holding -- usually just a designated area with some chairs (sometimes you get tables) -- until you're needed. And production schedules never run on time, so it can be hours or even days. You're lucky if you're there long enough to get a meal, if the temperature is nice, if you're able to make friends with the others and if there's wifi. Sometimes you bring your own clothes for wardrobe based on what you're told, and sometimes the wardrobe department supplements your wardrobe with extra pieces to help complete a specific look. And yeah, you're not able to leave except for the bathroom, so Ryan definitely shouldn't have let that one extra wander off.

"Ryan After Work" - I like these post-credit sequences that give extra insights into the job. And while the first one was more instructional, explaining how the production house differed from an agency, the second was more about the cohort camaraderie (and hinting at Ryan's positive feelings toward Jane). I hope the romance aspect of the show doesn't overshadow the work specificity going forward!