#because of how they change in different lights

[mononijikayu]

marry you — ryomen sukuna.

Sukuna stared at him for a long moment, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "You want me to propose... during a football practice?" Yuji nodded enthusiastically, as if it were the best idea in the world. "Yeah! It’s unexpected, and you’ll have the whole team there! Megs and Norbs can help out too! Everyone will be pumped, and the atmosphere will be amazing!" Sukuna groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "That’s... quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

GENRE: alternate universe - modern au!;

WARNING/S: safe for work (sfw), fluff, family, slice of life, family dynamic, light hearted, domestic, romance, banter, humour, physical touch, happy ending, hurt/comfort, depictions of family dynamic, depiction of anxiety, depiction of slice of life, boyfriend! sukuna, amnesiac! girlfriend! reader, domestic uncle sukuna!, nephew!yuji, i love you nephew!yuji;

WORD COUNT: 7.4k words

NOTE: the people have spoken and ryomen sukuna won my poll (again!!!)~ this is the final (maybe) installment of amnesia and a day in a life . reader and sukuna have been together for a while after this. they're much happier and healthy here. yuji loves his unckuna and auntie!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy it. i had a ball writing this because i just, this was fun. seeing sukuna be silly. anyway i love you all!!! see you in the next one <3 also @midnight-138, this is for you, im sorry for my angsty writing <3

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── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

THERE WAS NEVER A TIME IN HIS LIFE THAT ANYTHING WAS NOT MEASURED. Ryomen Sukuna had always lived by the belief that precision and decisiveness were the cornerstones of strength. His brother, Jin, was the opposite in that regard.

Jin was easygoing, someone who flowed through life with a relaxed confidence. That’s how he had ended up casually taking his wife Kaori’s name without a second thought after marriage, something that had never sat well with Sukuna. 

It wasn’t that Sukuna found it disrespectful; rather, he simply couldn't understand how someone could relinquish a piece of themselves so easily. To Sukuna, names held power, identity, and control. They were not to be changed on a whim.

And most of all, it was who he was. If his brother was going to let the name die, who would continue it? Yet maybe, that’s besides the point. Because it wasn’t the point.

The point was this — Ryomen Sukuna found himself in an unusual position, plagued by doubt. Unlike his brother, who easily adapted and made decisions without looking back, Sukuna was being dragged through an internal war, and this was uncharted territory for him.

He had always been sure—sure of his choices, sure of his actions, sure of his strength. Whether in battle or in the mundane aspects of life, he operated with an unshakable conviction. It had defined him for so long.

Except now, with the ring in his hand, everything felt different. 

For months, Sukuna had been reduced to a more fragile version of himself, struggling with emotions he thought he had long buried, emotions he used to scoff at as weakness.

But this—this wasn’t a trivial matter, not something he could merely slice through with a sharp blade or dismiss with his usual unyielding demeanor. This wasn’t about power or domination. It was about vulnerability, commitment, and the gravity of the choice he was about to make.

The ring wasn’t just a symbol; it was a testament to something far deeper. Sukuna had never hesitated before. But for the first time, he was wrestling with fear—the fear of being vulnerable, of giving a piece of himself away, just as his brother had done so easily. But was it really a weakness? Or had he, all this time, misunderstood the strength it took to let someone in?

He had bought it months ago. A shimmering band, simple yet unmistakably meaningful, one that carried the weight of everything he had come to feel for you. Every glance, every brush of your hand, every laugh—each moment had woven itself into the threads of his existence. And now, here he was, staring at this small, ridiculous piece of jewelry like it was the most dangerous object in the world.

He wanted to propose.

He had never wanted anything so badly in his life. He wanted to tell you, to kneel (a position he never imagined himself in) and offer you the promise of forever. The thought was absurd, wasn’t it? Him kneeling before someone?

Yet for you, the idea seemed... right. He didn’t just want you; he wanted to spend the rest of his days making you happy, something he had never imagined himself capable of until you.

And that’s what drove him mad.

He didn’t know how to do it. How was a man like him supposed to express something so fragile? Words weren’t his strong suit, and even if he could gather them, they always seemed to fall short when it came to you. How could he ever explain the storm of emotions, the way you’d carved a place for yourself in his blackened heart? The very thought of it made his fingers clenched into fists.

The timing, too—it was never right. Every time he thought he might do it, something held him back. What if he wasn’t enough? What if, despite everything, you said no? The ring burned in his pocket like a curse of its own, a reminder of everything he wasn’t sure he deserved.

Ryomen Sukuna who’s been in delinquent clubs, who’s been the most fearsome wrestler and now undefeated weightlifter — who has done anything, and yet never been frightened. Not at all. But proposing to you? That terrified him.

Sukuna wasn’t used to nerves, but ever since he bought that ring, they seemed to follow him everywhere. And as much as he hated to admit it, Sukuna was struggling. So, he decided he was going to get this over with—no more overthinking. How hard could it be, really? It was just a proposal. 

Attempt one: At dinner.

The scene was set. A quiet, candlelit dinner at your favorite restaurant. It was your birthday. No perfect day, right? It was everything that you could ever want. It was intimate, it was heartfelt and it was just completely perfect.

Ryomen Sukuna had been uncharacteristically calm the whole night, which should have tipped you off that something was up. Between bites of your meal, you saw him fiddling with something in his pocket. Your face scrunches at the sight of him. And then your boyfriend cleared his throat—a sound that, for someone as confident as him, felt almost foreign.

“So, baby….” he began, trying to sound casual, but his voice cracked just a bit. “How would you feel about spending the rest of your life—”

Suddenly, the waiter appeared with a massive tray of dessert samples.

“Would you like to try our seasonal—”

Sukuna glared at the waiter, his red eye twitching as the moment slipped through his fingers. You tried to stifle your laugh as the waiter, completely oblivious, kept talking about tiramisu. Sukuna nearly cursed the man on the spot, but instead, he dropped the conversation. That’s just as one would say — strike one.

Attempt two: Movie night.

Alright, he thought, a more relaxed setting would be better. Just you, him, and some stupid romantic movie you insisted on watching. This was just as intimate as the first one, but maybe a little bit more animated. Still, it was just between you two.

He thinks you would love it like this. The ring was ready in his hoodie pocket, and halfway through the movie, as the cheesy proposal scene played out on the screen, he thought, This is it. This is the moment.

But just as he leaned closer to you, reaching for the ring, the actor on screen dropped to one knee in front of the actress, who acted stunned. Everyone around the actors gasped and started freaking out and clapping. You groaned, rolling your eyes at the absurdity of it.

“Oh my god, if anyone ever proposed to me like that!” you laughed, shaking your head. “I’m sorry baby, but I ain’t that gal. I’d die of second-hand embarrassment.”

Your boyfriend Sukuna froze, hand halfway to his pocket, and quickly pretended he was just stretching. He slumped back on the couch, gritting his teeth.

Not like that, got it.

Attempt three: At the gym.

This was it. No more romantic crap—just you and him doing something you both enjoyed. He’d taken you to the gym, your regular workout routine in full swing. He figured the casual vibe would work, that maybe he could just slip the proposal into conversation like it was no big deal. Everything about this was perfect. Everything was going to go the way he wanted. Yup, that’s how it will go.

The problem? Sukuna wasn’t built for “casual.” 

He spotted you while you were doing squats, casually throwing out, “You know… we should, uh, work on something long-term together, baby.”

“Huh? A long term plan?” You huffed back at him, your brows furrowed.

“I mean….something concrete. Like….like, something for us, you know? A long time.”

You blinked up at him, catching your breath. “Like a couple’s fitness plan?”

“Or... you know... life. Forever. Together.”

You squinted at him. “Are you feeling okay, baby? You sound delirious.”

He muttered something about “too many reps” and practically sprinted to the other side of the gym, leaving you utterly confused. Everyone was just as confused. You looked at the store clerk, Uraume but they just shrugged at you. You guess it was just one of those days.

Attempt four: The kitchen.

Ryomen Sukuna had woken up that morning and decided today’s the day. He was done failing, and he wasn’t going to overthink it anymore. He could do this. He knows he can. It wasn’t rocket science. People proposed all the time, and somehow they survived. And it happens, it ends up happening. Everything after that always ends up in a wedding. Yeah, he can do this. 

You were making breakfast, humming to yourself, when Sukuna casually strolled into the kitchen, the ring in his pocket yet again. He leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching you. You were the only person who could make something as mundane as cracking eggs look beautiful. 

You looked up to him and smiled, greeting him sweetly. God, you were so beautiful. You looked like you were made from heaven. A genuine angel, as you asked him if he wanted coffee. He mumbled back and cleared his throat. You moved over to the other counter and started the coffee machine.

“Hey, babe.” he began, trying to sound nonchalant, but there was an odd edge to his voice. “How do you feel about... I don’t know... spending the rest of your life with me?”

Without looking up, you shrugged. “Sounds good. Can you pass me the salt?”

He blinked, caught off guard. “Wait—what?”

You finally glanced over, raising an eyebrow. “I said, yeah, sounds good. Now the salt, please?”

Sukuna stood there, frozen. Was that a yes? Did you even know he was proposing?

You stared at him, still waiting for the salt shaker. When he didn’t move, you walked over and grabbed it yourself. “Thanks, big guy.” you said with a playful smile, clearly unaware that Sukuna had just (sort of) proposed.  “Now, do you want some avocado on your toast today or nah?”

He groaned and dragged a hand over his face. It was hard for him to be angry with you either. You were too cute. Another failure.

Attempt five: The supermarket.

The ring still in his pocket, Ryomen Sukuna was now truly desperate. At this point, he was just winging it. You were both running errands, and as you reached for a carton of eggs in the store, he thought, Screw it. There were no romantic backdrops, no candles, no cheesy movie scenes—just the fluorescent lights of the grocery store. Your day to day. Nothing too much. This was now or never.

“Listen, baby.” he said, his tone more urgent than usual. “What if we just—”

At that moment, a kid ran by with a cart, ramming it right into Sukuna’s leg. A light groan came out of Sukuna as the kid’s eyes grew wide. Sukuna’s eyes turned dark as he glared at the kid. The kid swallowed the bile down his throat. As he was about to move, you called Sukuna. The kid let out a yelp and started pushing his cart. 

The child screamed, “Sorry, mister!” and ran off, leaving your boyfriend in a state of pandemonium.

You, still holding the eggs, glanced at him for a moment and burst out laughing.

He sighed, slumping against the shelf. “I’m never going to get this right, am I?”

You smiled, stepping closer and poking his chest. “Get what right, baby?”

Sukuna glanced at the ring still burning in his pocket and grumbled, “Nothing. Just... forget it.”

You didn’t push him, but your knowing smile told him you weren’t entirely clueless. Maybe you had been waiting all along. Maybe, despite all his ridiculous failed attempts, you already knew what was coming. 

Maybe, the next time he tried, you’d say yes before he even finished his sentence.

And maybe, that was exactly what he needed to hear.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

HIS MOTHER USED TO SAY THAT OLDER BROTHERS KNEW BEST. But in all his life, Ryomen Sukuna liked to pride himself never needing to end up asking his elder brother for advice. Or any help at all, if he was being honest. The scarlet eyed man never liked having his brother do things for him. He doesn’t like owing anyone anything. 

Because Sukuna wasn’t exactly known for asking anyone for advice—especially not about matters of the heart. 

But after months of failed attempts, Sukuna could only find himself sitting in his brother Jin’s living room, slouched on the couch with his hands pressed against his face. He had to give in and concede to what his mother said. His brother knew best. And he should ask him. The ring still weighed heavy in his pocket, mocking him at every turn. His mother’s nagging words came to him, almost as though she would still be pinching his ear. Maybe if you asked your brother, you wouldn’t be suffering like this!

“I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, bro.” Sukuna muttered, his voice low, clearly frustrated. “I’ve been trying for months, bro. Months. Every time I think I’ve got it right, something goes wrong. I’ve got the ring. I’ve got the words. But I don’t know... it’s like nothing’s perfect enough. I don’t want to screw this up.”

Jin, ever calm and collected compared to his fiery younger brother, chuckled from across the room. He sat in his armchair, reading glasses perched on his nose, looking up from the book he had been reading. “You’re overthinking it, Kuna.”

“Overthinking?” Sukuna scoffed, sitting up and glaring at his brother. “I can’t just walk up and throw the ring at the love of my life, you know? They deserve something... more from me. I want it to be perfect.”

Jin set his book down and leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth turning up in a nostalgic smile. “You know, I went through something similar when I proposed to Kaori.”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “You? Really? You seem so... calm about all of this.”

Jin laughed, shaking his head. “Calm? Hardly. I was a wreck. I had all these elaborate plans I worked really hard on. I thought I’d propose on a sunset beach or during some elegant dinner. But none of it worked out the way I thought.”

Sukuna frowned, curious despite himself. “So what did you do?”

Jin scratched the back of his head, clearly amused by the memory. “We were on a road trip—just a spontaneous one. I think that’s when we decided to go north. We got lost. The car broke down multiple times in the middle of nowhere, and it started pouring rain. Hard. We were soaked, stuck under a leaky gas station awning, of all places. There was nothing romantic about all of it. And yet…..well, it was what it was.”

Sukuna stared at him, baffled. “That sounds terrible.”

“It was, little brother.” Jin agreed, grinning. “But Kaori laughed through the whole thing. She thought it was hilarious. And that’s when I realized—there wasn’t going to be a perfect moment. So, I just asked her. Right there, soaking wet, covered in mud and all the dirt in the world. I didn’t even have the ring on me because I’d left it in the car. But I asked anyway.”

“And she said yes?” Sukuna asked, still trying to wrap his mind around how his brother had managed to pull that off.

Jin nodded with a wide smile. “Without hesitation. Because, little brother, it didn’t matter where we were or how it looked. What mattered was that I was asking her to spend her life with me. She didn’t care about the setting or the way I asked. She just cared about me. And wanting to continue loving me. So, she just said yes. Damn the world or what was good. She just…wanted me.”

Sukuna exhaled, leaning back again and letting that sink in. “I just... I don’t know if I can be that casual about it. I want the love of my life to love it. I want it to be... memorable.”

Jin leaned forward, his voice gentle. “It doesn’t have to be perfect, Kuna. It just has to be you. And about your love together. If sis in law does love you, it’ll be great no matter what. It will just happen. Trust me.”

Sukuna sighed, resting his head against the back of the couch. “I hope you���re right. I just—” 

Before he could finish, the door to the room burst open, and Yuji bounced in, grinning from ear to ear. He was still dressed in his football uniform. “Uncle Sukuna! I heard you’re going to propose! Let me help!”

Sukuna groaned. The kid had such good ears, damn him. “Oi, brat! This is... it’s not something I need help with.’specially not from you! It’s—”

“Oh, come on! I’ve got great ideas, unc! We can do fireworks, or... or maybe we can surprise auntie with, like, a whole flash mob at the mall!” Yuji’s excitement was contagious, but Sukuna could feel a headache forming at the thought of any of those ideas. “I think auntie will love it, you know?”

“No flash mobs, Yuji.”

Yuji pouted for a moment, but then his face brightened again. “Okay, okay, what about a treasure hunt? Like, you leave little clues everywhere, and the final clue leads to you with the ring! I mean, auntie would love that! Auntie’s always been someone who likes puzzles!”

Sukuna raised an eyebrow, glancing at Jin, who was barely hiding his laughter behind his hand. His brother was enjoying this little misery of his. His nephew’s barely thirteen and yet he’s got the idealistic mind. Too much like his brother, Sukuna thinks. But then again, his mother’s the same sort of human being. 

“Hey brat, I don’t think your auntie appreciates getting dragged across the city just to find me with a ring at the end.” Sukuna said, though there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes now. “Auntie would get tired really fast then ask where’s the nearest soda shop.”

Yuji shrugged. “Well, whatever you do, it’ll be awesome. You’re awesome! Auntie will totally say yes.” He gave Sukuna a thumbs up, his usual boundless optimism shining through. “I mean, auntie’s been with you too long, so it's just bound to settle like that.”

“Wait, what do you mean settle—”

“Hey, hey! I didn’t mean anything mean about it.” Yuji pouted at his uncle defensively. “You know that much, unc! I love seeing you and auntie together.”

Sukuna shook his head at his nephew, though a small, begrudging smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “Thanks, brat.”

Jin, watching the exchange, nodded in agreement. “See, Kuna? It doesn’t matter how you do it. It’ll be great, because it’s coming from you.”

Sukuna sighed, feeling the weight of the ring in his pocket one more time. “I guess... I’ll just have to stop thinking so much and go for it.”

Yuji’s grin stretched even wider. “That’s the spirit now, unc! And if you change your mind about the flash mob, I’m totally in.”

Sukuna chuckled despite himself. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll keep that in mind.”

Yuji, still bouncing with excitement, suddenly lit up with an idea. "Oh! I know! Why don’t you come and coach my football team for a day? You can do it there!" 

Sukuna blinked, utterly baffled by the suggestion. "Coach... football? What are you talking about, brat?"

Yuji was practically vibrating with energy now. "It’s perfect! You can come to practice, and we’ll, I don’t know, pretend something happened—like, I could pretend I twisted my ankle or something—and then, boom! You step in, gather everyone around, and propose! Auntie will be there all excited to be there and cheer us and you on."

Sukuna stared at him for a long moment, his face a mix of confusion and disbelief. "You want me to propose... during a football practice?"

Yuji nodded enthusiastically, as if it were the best idea in the world. "Yeah! It’s unexpected, and you’ll have the whole team there! Megs and Norbs can help out too! Everyone will be pumped, and the atmosphere will be amazing!"

Sukuna groaned, leaning his head back against the couch. "That’s... quite possibly the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard."

But before he could properly dismiss the idea, Jin let out a hearty laugh from his chair. “Why not, little brother? It’s certainly different. Do you have any better ideas?” 

Sukuna shot him a look, but Jin just grinned. He could see his brother’s frustration boiling over, but there was also something else—maybe Sukuna was finally realizing that no moment was ever going to feel perfect. Not in the way he imagined.

“Come on, come on.” Jin said, still chuckling. “I mean, think about it. It’s so out of character for you that it might actually work. A little spontaneity never hurts anyone.”

Sukuna rubbed his face, feeling the beginnings of a headache. “You really think I should just... go to a football practice and pop the question in front of a bunch of sweaty teenagers?”

Yuji jumped in again, totally on board with his own wild idea. “Yeah! And I’ll totally sell it—I’ll limp off the field, everyone will be worried, and then you step up like a hero. I can already picture it!” He waved his arms dramatically, trying to sell the scene. "It’ll be epic."

Jin crossed his arms, his grin still plastered on his face. "It’s unconventional, sure. But it’s definitely memorable. And isn’t that what you wanted?"

Sukuna sighed, the absurdity of it all weighing on him. Coaching Yuji’s football team, of all things, to propose? He couldn’t believe this was even a conversation. Yet, as ridiculous as it sounded, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that it might actually work.

Not because it was perfect—but because it was so wildly unexpected that it would leave you speechless. Maybe, after all these failed attempts, that was what he needed.

Still, he grumbled, "If this goes wrong, I’m cursing both of you."

Yuji laughed, slinging an arm over Sukuna’s shoulder, clearly unfazed by the threat. "It’s going to be great, Unc Sukuna! Trust me!"

Jin, still leaning back in his chair, raised an eyebrow. "So, is that a yes? You’re actually going to do this, little brother? No more backing out?”

Sukuna slumped back on the couch, rubbing his temples. "I can’t believe I’m saying this, but... yeah. Fine. Let’s try it your way, Yuji."

Yuji fist-pumped the air, grinning ear to ear. "Yes! This is going to be amazing. I can’t wait to see their faces when you finally propose!"

Sukuna let out a deep sigh, glancing at Jin one last time. His older brother gave him an encouraging nod. What does he have left to lose? If anything, if it works — maybe you’ll laugh it off. And he…he likes seeing you smile anyway. What does he have left to lose?

“You’re overthinking it again, little brother.” Jin reminded him. “Just do it, hm? It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

Sukuna could only hope his brother was right.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

THE NEXT DAY, YOU DIDN’T FEEL LIKE GOING TO WORK. So, you had decided to stay lazily at home with Sukuna and just enjoy his day off together. Well, it worked out better considering that Sukuna informed your office you’ll be out for a while anyway. You happily hummed as you started making your cup of matcha milk for yourself. So far everything was well. In fact, the day had been going pretty normally. 

But then you could only blink at him when Sukuna, of all people, approached you in the kitchen, casually leaning against the counter. He looked... slightly awkward, which was unusual for him. His scarlet eyes darted away for a moment before landing back on you.

“Hey, baby….” he said, almost too casually. “You wanna come to Yuji’s football game tomorrow?”

You blinked in surprise. Sukuna wasn’t exactly the type to invite you to these things. Usually, Yuji was the one who asked, and then Sukuna would begrudgingly tag along, acting like he was too cool to care. But now, he was asking you directly?

“You’re asking me to go?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. “And also….you wanna go?”

He scratched the back of his neck, clearly a little embarrassed. “Yeah. Is that... a problem or something?”

You shook your head quickly, trying to hide your smile. “No, not at all. I’d love to go. It’s just... surprising coming from you. Usually, you wait until Yuji begs you to show up.”

Sukuna shifted uncomfortably, his face flushing just a bit. “Yeah, well... I’m gonna be more involved this time.”

Your curiosity piqued, you leaned forward. “What do you mean? Like, are you finally going to cheer from the sidelines instead of pretending not to care?”

He looked away again, mumbling under his breath, “I’m coaching the team.”

You stared at him, wide-eyed. “Wait, what?”

Sukuna shot you a look, already regretting this conversation. “You heard me. I’m gonna be their coach... for the game. Just a trial…..It’s just…. Maybe a one time thing.”

The shock only lasted a second before you burst out laughing, unable to help yourself. The image of Sukuna, towering and intimidating, trying to coach a bunch of high school kids was just too much. It was all too much for you to think about your boyfriend. He crossed his arms on his chest like a little kid.

“Stop laughing.” he grumbled, clearly annoyed but also embarrassed.

You waved a hand, trying to catch your breath. “I’m not laughing at you, I swear. I’m just... I’m just imagining you barking orders at those poor kids like you do with your clients at the gym.”

Sukuna narrowed his eyes at you, crossing his arms. “That’s not how I coach at the gym.”

“Oh really?” you teased, still giggling. “You’re not going to stand on the sidelines, yelling ‘Run faster, you idiot!’ and ‘Stop slacking off, sweat it off!’ like you do with your trainees?”

“Of course not, babe.” he muttered, though there was a hint of a smirk on his lips now. “Those brats won’t know what hit them.”

Your laughter continued, but now it was filled with genuine amusement. “I can’t wait to see this. You, coaching a bunch of teenagers, pretending to know anything about football. Oh, this will be gold, baby. I’m in!”

Sukuna groaned, running a hand down his face. “You’re really not helping, you know.”

“I’m sorry baby.” you said, still grinning as you put a thumb up. “I just can’t picture it without laughing. But hey, I’m sure you’ll do great.”

He grumbled under his breath again, but you could see the faintest trace of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “You’d better not laugh when you see me out there.”

“No promises here, baby.” you teased, stepping closer and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “But I’ll be there, front and center, cheering you on.”

Ryomen Sukuna rolled his eyes, but the blush creeping up his neck told you everything you needed to know. Despite his gruff demeanor, he was secretly pleased. And maybe—just maybe—this ridiculous plan wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

You know Yuji loves some good orange juice, so you brought cold packs of that in the cooler too. You supposed you could say that you were more excited than most. You had the full gear from their team and everything. It was something you requested from Sukuna and he got it for you before yesterday, when he got his own uniform. 

YOU DIDN’T SLEEP A WINK. But you couldn’t help it. You were too excited. The practices wee nice but each time you had to leave earlier for work. But this time, you got to have a full day just being there. These past few days, Sukuna's been in a gloom but he reassured you that its nothing. You wanted to press, but you knew your boyfriend too well to pry.

You were just one excited soul to be here. It was the tournament league now. And Yuji's team made it through the finals. You brought packs of snacks for you and Sukuna, some for the kids too in case their moms didn’t have anything on them. Some cold drinks too.

And now, you found yourself standing by the field, watching as Sukuna walked out with the team. The sun was brilliantly bright, and there was a decent crowd, mostly parents and students, filling the bleachers.

But your beaming eyes were glued to the unlikely sight before you: Ryomen Sukuna, your intimidating, tough-as-nails partner, now wearing a whistle around his neck and a deeply annoyed expression as he dealt with a bunch of teenage boys.

You could see precious Itadori Yuji bouncing around excitedly, clearly thrilled that Sukuna had agreed to coach. The rest of the team, however, seemed slightly nervous under Sukuna’s intense gaze.

Yuji’s two close friends, Fushiguro Megumi and Kugisaki Nobara, didn’t seem to care and were just playing with the balls and gloves, tossing to each other. But their nonchalant behavior was a stark contrast from everyone else. Some of them glanced back at you, probably wondering why this mountain of a man was suddenly in charge. But you don’t blame any of them. Your boyfriend did look imposing. 

Sukuna blew the whistle sharply, and you had to bite your lip to keep from laughing again. He barked out orders like a drill sergeant, his deep voice carrying across the field. “You—stop dragging your feet! Move it! You think this is a joke? Pick up the pace!”

You couldn’t help but lean against the fence, shaking your head with a smile. Well, you were right. It was exactly as you had imagined—Sukuna treating this football practice like a high-intensity training session at the gym. The kids were all scrambling around, trying their best not to get on his bad side.

After a particularly harsh instruction, you caught his scarlet eye from across the field. He gave you a look, clearly daring you to laugh, and you had to press your lips together to keep from cracking up. When you got it together, you started clapping and cheering for him. And for a moment, you could see a scarlet tint flush on your boyfriend’s cheek. That had made you smile.

During a water break, Yuji came jogging over, grinning from ear to ear. “How’s Unc Sukuna doing, Auntie? He’s totally killing it, right?”

You smiled and raised an eyebrow. “He’s certainly... in charge. The team looks a little terrified, though. Well, except Nobara and Megumi.”

Yuji chuckled, not even a little bit phased. “Yeah, but they’ll respect him. He’s making them work harder than our regular coach.”

You glanced back at Sukuna, who was currently standing with his arms crossed, scowling as one of the players asked him a question. He looked like he belonged in a weightlifting competition, not on a football field. Your boyfriend could have done so many things, you knew. But he said he got bored of it all, since people keep telling him what to do. But either way, your boyfriend would have ended up looking like this. This hunk of muscular muscle. 

“Well, as long as no one cries, I think it’ll be a success, Yuji!” you teased.

Yuji laughed and then leaned in closer. “So, do you think they suspect anything yet?”

You raised an eyebrow. You were confused. “About what?”

He gave you a mischievous look, a grin playing at the corners of his lips. “You know... Uncle Sukuna’s plan. The proposal.”

You blinked, your smile fading as confusion washed over you. Wait, hold on. Was Yuji talking about Sukuna’s proposal to expand the gym? He’d been telling you about that for months now, outlining every detail, every plan. Surely Sukuna hadn’t forgotten.

“Wait. That’s today?” you asked, half-expecting to hear more about Sukuna's latest gym renovation idea. 

But something in Yuji’s expression didn’t quite fit the usual conversation. His grin widened, almost teasing. You suddenly had the sinking feeling you might not be on the same page at all. But just as you were going to go and talk to him about it, the whistle blew again, and the game began. Yuji saluted you and ran off to the field once again.

You tried to keep your eyes on the match, the sounds of cheers and the smack of fists hitting against gloves filling the air, but your mind was elsewhere. Sukuna’s plan. It kept creeping into your thoughts, pulling your focus away from the fight.

He had been working tirelessly on the gym expansion for months, meticulously coordinating every detail. The proposal with the contractor was a major step, one he had been looking forward to with a mix of excitement and that quiet intensity he always had when he wanted something done perfectly.

But now, you couldn’t shake the worry creeping up your spine. If Yuji’s casual comment about the proposal meant what you thought it did, then something had gone wrong. Sukuna must have missed the meeting with the contractor. Your boyfriend never missed important business meetings, especially not one like this, which was practically the culmination of weeks of hard work and planning. 

You bit your lip, your gaze flickering back to the field, but all you could think about was Sukuna. His sense of control, of always being on top of things—what could have possibly distracted him? And why hadn’t he told you? Maybe you could’ve reminded him or helped him juggle things better. 

Your stomach tightened with unease. Sukuna wasn’t the type to slip up like this, not unless something bigger was weighing on him. You’d seen the way he had been acting recently—distracted, quieter than usual, though he would shrug it off if you ever asked. Was this just about the proposal, or was there something else, something deeper he hadn’t shared yet?

As the game continued, it became even more intense, but not nearly as intense as the look Sukuna had on his face as he barked orders from the sidelines. You could see him glancing your way every now and then, his jaw set, his eyes determined. This was insane, even for a league of teenagers in middle school. But you suppose that’s what happens when you put your boyfriend to coach on the field.

As the game drew to a close, with Yuji’s team pulling off a narrow victory, you noticed Sukuna’s posture shift. He was still his usual composed self, but there was something nervous about the way he kept adjusting the whistle around his neck. He takes a moment for a breath. 

When the final whistle blew and the players began congratulating each other, Ryomen Sukuna called out to them. “Alright, listen up! Get over here. I’ve got something to say.”

The entire team gathered around him, and you stood at the edge of the field, your heart pounding as you watched the scene unfold. You could see Yuji trying (and failing) to hide his excitement as he joined the group. Everything about was making you feel like you were going to lose it.

Sukuna cleared his throat, looking oddly serious. “There’s someone here today who’s... important to me.”

The players exchanged confused glances, and you felt your cheeks heat up as you realized he was talking about you.

Sukuna continued, his voice a little gruffer than usual. “I’ve been thinking about this for a long time, and I’ve been trying really hard to make this happen. I really have been. And I just…I’ve been thinking, to hell with it. We might as well go through with it. Even if it's going to be too much and lame.” He shot a pointed look at Yuji, who gave him an encouraging thumbs up.

Your heart was racing now, and you could feel the eyes of the team turning toward you. Sukuna reached into his pocket, pulling out a velvet box from his pockets. He opened it and you could clearly see it. There was something small and shiny inside of it. 

“This…..” he said, holding up the ring for everyone to see. “ This is what I’ve been working up the nerve to do for months.”

The entire field went dead silent. The team, the parents in the stands—everyone was watching.

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes finally met yours, and in that moment, all the tough, intimidating layers seemed to peel away. He stepped toward you in the bleachers, his beautiful face softening as he held the ring in his hand.

“I’m not good at speeches. Or, apparently, proposals.” He smirked, and you couldn’t help but smile through the nerves. “But I know one thing. I want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The world seemed to blur around you as Sukuna knelt down, holding out the ring. “So, what do you say?”

Your heart swelled as you took in the sight of him—this fierce, stubborn man who had somehow, in his own awkward way, found the perfect moment. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes as you whispered the only answer you could give.

“Yes.”

The crowd erupted into cheers, with Yuji practically jumping up and down as the team whooped and clapped. Sukuna stood, slipping the ring onto your finger, and pulled you into a tight embrace, his breath warm against your ear as he murmured, “Told you it didn’t have to be perfect.”

You laughed softly, wiping away a tear. “It was more than perfect.”

Ryomen Sukuna grinned, leaning down to kiss you as the noise of the crowd faded into the background. Everything about the past? That didn’t matter at all now. Because all this, this is what mattered. After all that you both went through, after all that happens — everything was well. Because he was going to marry you. 

── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ──

epilogue

As Sukuna pulled you close, his lips brushing against yours, the cheers and whistles from the crowd surrounded you both. Yuji, of course, was the loudest, pumping his fists in the air and hyping up the team, who were now clapping and laughing at the unexpected turn of events.

“Unc Sukuna’s engaged!” Yuji shouted, jumping onto the field. “Best day ever!”

You pulled back slightly from the kiss, your face flushed and your heart still racing, meeting Sukuna’s gaze. His scarlet eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like it was just the two of you, standing in the middle of a whirlwind of noise and celebration. He took your hand, where the ring sat on your finger and placed a small kiss upon it. You grew even more flustered.

Sukuna sighed, his lips curving into a rare, genuine smile. “I can’t believe I just did that.”

You chuckled, brushing a hand against his cheek. “Believe it. You just proposed in front of an entire football team.”

He groaned slightly, though there was a hint of amusement in his voice. “I’m never living this down, am I?”

You leaned in, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Nope. But I love that you did it.”

His arms tightened around you for a moment before he pulled back, glancing at the team who were still buzzing with excitement. He gave them a half-hearted glare. “Alright, enough gawking. Get off the field. We still have a game to win.”

The boys quickly scattered, though you could see the smirks and murmurs they exchanged as they left. Megumi and Nobara were snickering at how soft their coach Sukuna was looking at you. Your nephew Yuji, of course, was the last one standing there, grinning like an idiot.

“So, Unc Sukuna,” Yuji said, nudging his uncle’s arm. “How’d it feel to propose in front of an audience? Pretty cool, huh?”

Sukuna shot him a deadpan look. “Brat, don’t think I’ve forgotten this was your idea.”

Yuji only grinned wider, completely unfazed. “But it worked! Look at that ring! And look at auntie’s face!” He pointed to you, beaming. “You guys are the cutest engaged couple ever!”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yuji, stop embarrassing your uncle.”

Sukuna crossed his arms, shaking his head in exasperation. “You’ve been spending too much time around Gojo, I swear to god.” he muttered under his breath, glancing at Yuji with mock annoyance. “I better tell your dad to never let you back in Fushiguro’s house.”

Yuji just shrugged. “Hey, I’m just a romantic at heart. I love seeing love win!”

Before Sukuna could retaliate, his elder brother Jin appeared from the sidelines, clapping his younger brother on the shoulder. “See? I told you it didn’t have to be perfect.”

Sukuna let out a long sigh, shooting Jin a look. “Yeah, yeah. I guess you were right.”

Jin raised an amused brow. “Guess?”

“Fine, fine.” Sukuna grumbled, a reluctant smirk forming. “You were right.”

Jin grinned. “That’s more like it. And for what it’s worth, little brother, you pulled it off pretty damn well. Look at that, you’re getting married. I’m so proud of you, hm?”

Sukuna grunted, still not entirely comfortable with the praise, but you could see the tension slowly leave his body. He wasn’t one to bask in sentimental moments, but for this one, he was letting himself enjoy it. 

“Thanks….big brother.”

“Alright, I’m gonna go back to the bleachers. Kaori’s gonna get lonely.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s meet down here so we can have dinner together.”

Jin grinned. “Oh, you’re paying tonight?”

“Oh, don’t think too far like that, big brother.”

Yuji, still full of energy, suddenly clapped his hands together. “Alright! Since you two are officially engaged, I think it’s time we celebrate!”

You glanced at Sukuna, who rolled his eyes but didn’t object. “Sure, why not?” he said with a shrug. “But I’m picking the place. No weird restaurants.”

Yuji pouted. “But there’s this ramen shop Gojo–sensei recommended—”

“No.” Sukuna said flatly, his tone brooking no argument.

You smiled, leaning into Sukuna’s side. “Wherever you want to go, we’ll go.”

Sukuna looked down at you, a rare warmth softening the usual intensity of his gaze. His voice, normally edged with authority, held a surprising tenderness. “I’ll think of something. Now go on. Go finish the game.”

You turned toward Yuji, who was standing there, clearly wanting to argue. “But unc—” he started, but Sukuna cut him off before he could finish.

“I said go!” Sukuna’s voice, firm but not unkind, sent Yuji running back to the field, his frustration bubbling over as he shouted, “It’s not fair!”

You watched Yuji dash off, his protests lost in the sound of his feet pounding the grass, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the situation. He had always been full of energy, bouncing between enthusiasm and impatience, and Sukuna loved to tease him for it—though Yuji never seemed to take it lightly.

Turning back to your fiancé, you shot him a playful pout. “Must you tease him so much? He did help you propose, you know?”

Sukuna exhaled, a faint sigh escaping him as his hand found its way to your waist, pulling you closer. “Eh, He can handle a little teasing.”

You tilted your head, studying Sukuna’s face. Even though his words were casual, there was a deeper affection in them, one that wasn’t always so visible. Yuji, in his own way, had been a part of your lives, and you knew Sukuna cared for him more than he’d ever let on. But Sukuna’s way of showing love was always layered with a bit of roughness, teasing, and challenges—he never made things too easy, even for those closest to him.

“He’s just a kid,” you murmured, leaning into him, your pout softening as you placed your hands on his chest. “He looks up to you, you know.”

Sukuna’s lips curled into a smirk, his eyes flickering with amusement. “Yeah, well, he should know by now I’m not gonna go easy on him.”

You rolled your eyes, but a smile broke through your pout. “Maybe try cutting him some slack next time. You can’t torment him every time he tries to help.”

“Torment?” Sukuna raised an eyebrow. “Come on, he loves it.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he glanced toward the field, where Yuji was back in action, still muttering something under his breath. “Besides, if I didn’t push him, who would?”

You couldn’t help but laugh, giving his chest a playful shove. “Alright, alright. But don’t be too hard on him. He really did come through for us.”

Sukuna’s expression softened again, and he gave you a knowing look. “I know. I’ll make it up to him.”

As you both watch Jin go back to the bleachers with Kaori, you feel your fiance's arms wrap around you. Your hands intertwined and on top of his hand, was your own. You couldn’t help but glance down at the ring on your finger, your heart swelling with happiness. 

Ryomen Sukuna had surprised you—more than you ever thought he would. And while it hadn’t been a grand, romantic gesture in a traditional sense, it had been perfect in the most Sukuna way possible. Unconventional, slightly chaotic, but undeniably heartfelt.

And you wouldn’t have had it any other way.

[briseroyawritingsblog]

𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒎𝒑𝒂𝒈𝒏𝒆 𝒅𝒓𝒐𝒑𝒔 — 🥂

𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒙 𝒂𝒄𝒕𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

• +18 minors do not interact. unprotected sex, mutual feelings, mutual pinning, public sex, kissing, etc.

divider by the talented @anitalenia 🎀

𝒉𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒋𝒂𝒄𝒌𝒎𝒂𝒏 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 / 𝒎𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

This was your first official movie. You’ve been filming for it non stop, the scenes needed to be redone and you just couldn’t keep up anymore. The stress has gotten to you, and you needed to rewind. Hugh has been nothing but supportive, always praising how good of a job you did on the day and how proud he was of you. Today… it’s been different. It’s been only you and hugh and the filming crew. It was a bathroom scene where your character has been crying and Hugh’s character as your ‘boyfriend’ he was going to come in and comfort you. Hugh improvised on the scene, offering that the characters could get closer. The script originally said that the intimate parts should’ve happened at the beginning of the movie but you two changed it a little bit. As your character started to break down in the bathroom, your official feelings and emotions came to the surface and those tears which streamed down your cheeks were not only because of the camera in your face. It was real… you needed a break from the shooting. Crying out loud, heavily you wiped your tears away letting the tap run so the water could cover up your sobbing. The director was so happy with your acting that he even showed you thumbs up— you saw that in the mirror in front of you but you didn’t care. Hugh’s character entered the bathroom shortly and his strong arms coiled around you– you couldn’t help but that hug was needed. You were saying your scripted lines looking at each other in the mirror as he wiped your tears away with his thumb, the look on your face softened and you couldn’t lie. The hug felt like heaven.. the way his towering body brought you close and held you from behind meant everything. God knew you needed the hug so much. Suddenly he turned you to face him, cupped your cheeks and his mouth was on yours. The kiss was nothing but consuming your very soul. You moaned into the kiss cupping his face in your hands not caring you were in front of the rolling camera. Hugh’s tongue slipped past your lips, and you accepted it and it was like you forgot everything around you. When the director shouted ‘cut’ you pulled away and you could see the longing gaze on Hugh’s face. Your gazes lingered a moment more before breaking away and this time you both didn’t burst into laughter. You both separated away from each other, part of you already missed him but you needed a real break. So you spoke to your boss and he gave you a day off. You quickly grabbed your stuff and sped off to your trailer to change and leave the set. Your manager booked you a room in the city in the sunset plaza, and you informed your girlfriends about a night out. You were applying makeup after shower when a knock on your trailer distracted you.

“Yeah? Come in!” You called still turned around guessing it’s your stylist but you didn’t tell her about your day off. “You leaving?” Hugh’s voice surprised you, he never stepped in your trailer in 8 weeks of shooting. Now he was here?

“Yeah, I’m just going out with my girlfriends. How about you? It’s our day off.” You smiled applying a light blush to your cheeks and crossing your legs. You were still in your pink robe, and part of your thigh revealed making hugh told his head and moisten his lips. “I- well, I was just going to tell you that.. I really loved your scene today. It’s, phenomenal. You nailed it, kid.” You chuckled. “Thanks, I can say the same about you. Our characters look great together” you nodded. “Who’s joining you again?” He asked again innocently observing the way you applied your lipstick. Your dress hung on your wardrobe, it was a small dress and matching stilettos. “My girlfriends.” You smiled noticing the look on his face you almost found it too cute. “Wearing that?” He arched a brow. You scoffed “Yes Sir, that. Don’t you like it?” He nodded “I do– it’s just.. it’s almost see through. And it’s short. Oh what the fuck am I saying– have a good time” he sighed getting out of your trailer almost annoyed with himself. “Hugh wait!” You called but he was long gone. You sighed heavily taking your phone, it was almost time to leave and your limo was waiting.

The night was a progress. You drank champagne, flirted with handsome men and had a good time. Your girlfriends were nothing but happy for you and your new upcoming movie so it deserved to be celebrated. You tried having a good time, you tried not to think about Hugh but it was almost impossible. The look on his face was almost disappointed when you told him you were going out. You’ve spend so much time together lately and you missed him. You became great friends, close friends. Right now he was nowhere to be seen, and you couldn’t help but think of him. “You owe me a dance.” A handsome man approached your vip section offering you his hand and you gladly accepted it, the music blasted and the bar quickly became overfilled with people after midnight. You drunk away your worries on a third glass of champagne. You danced, closing your eyes biting your lips when the man hand his hands all over your body feeling the stress leaving your body.

He was nothing but worried about you, he wanted to know where you went so he dressed and left. He couldn’t help it, he fell hard. After all of those years– he felt desire, want, real feelings to someone and it was you. It wasn’t just your friendship and the amounts of times you two spend together filming and hanging out. It was the way you both shared a meal from one plate, your late night walks and your shopping together, you attending stuff together. Even simple things like going to gym together. The shape of you caused his heart to pound faster, your smile, your pouts, your talent. That pulled him in. He wanted you so badly. But what he found.. was not to his liking at all. Standing in the doorway, he saw you on the dance floor grinding yourself against a certain man who had his hands on your waist tearing anger in Hugh’s chest. He snapped. He didn’t have to drink at all, he saw what you were after. “Fuck..” he sighed pushing past the grinding bodies to get to you. He yanked you by your arm away from the crowd, to the bathrooms. “What the fuck!” You groaned narrowing your eyes at him. “What are you doing?!” You adjusted your dress. “Saving you.” His nostrils flared as he gazed at you certainly annoyed. “You were getting into a situation there and I fucking saved you.” He added breathless locking the door on the bathroom. “What?! What situation! I’m an adult, I can do whatever I want.” You shot back angrily. “You can’t. Not like this.” He whispered under his breath “you gonna take your fucking things, I’m taking you away from here.” You scoffed crossing your arms. “I fucking won’t.” He arched a brow. “Excuse me?” You nodded “you heard me. You’re not my father. You’re just someone who I work with.” You boldly answered looking away. You then noticed what he wore, he wore a suit. Black dress pants with a white dress shirt. Fuck.. he had no idea how much you wanted him. Your pussy pulsated, hidden in your panties. His sleeves were rolled to his elbows, his strong cologne hit you in your face. He let out a laugh “Excuse me the fuck.” You shook your head “What do you want?” Sighing backing yourself against the wall. His hands momentarily caged you in, he was giving you that look again. “I thought of you all day..” he whispered kissing your forehead. Even with your high heels on you were exactly to his chest. “Seeing him touch your body like that, I fucking lost it” he admitted breathing in your sweet scent. “Hugh..” you whispered your walls melting away slowly as he scooped you to his arms leaning down only to seek your lips. You kissed, no— you were not that drunk to dream this. It was happening. Your friend.. he was kissing you without cameras around. “Can’t stop thinking about you” you breathed on his lips letting him kiss your cheek, your jawline slowly biting the juncture of your neck and shoulder. You arms swung around his neck and you willingly grinded your pussy against his thigh. Hugh groaned grabbing your thigh. “Can’t forget your behaviour princess..” whispering softly on your ear you moaned running your fingers over his bearded cheeks kissing his lips tenderly. “Can’t be friends with you” you sighed “You know my answer to that..” he huskily replied groping your butt in his large hand. Where did the goofy man disappear? Who was this, making you feel this way. He was someone completely different- man driven by lust and love.

Three more kisses later he held you over the sinks and pounded into you. Eyes locked on yours in the mirror watching the fucked out expression “Couldn’t look at your slutty dress anymore..” he breathed holding your shoulder as he thrusts in and out of your slick heat. “You looked so fucking hot on the dance floor and here you’re, too fucked out on my cock.” You bit your lip eyes watering when his thrusts sped up, the squelching and claps of your bodies working as one could be heard in the empty bathroom. Your fingers grew white as you gripped the sinks watching him as he pounds you “wanted you, wanted you the moment we kissed in the bathroom” you whined pushing back against his groin fucking your self on his cock before he grabbed the back of your neck pulling you up. His arms snaked around your front as he started to pound you even faster “yeah? Now you got me sweetheart.” A breathless smile appeared on his face as he nuzzled your hair groping your bouncing breasts in his hands groaning and moaning under his breath “fuck.. you gonna cum sweetie? Lookatcha all whiny being filled with cock has you ruined” you reached behind to touching his pumping hips feeling his cock twitch in you and you let out a heavy cry “yess.. fuck.. yes..” biting your lower lip as your pussy pulsed and milked his cock, tipping him over the edge he snapped his hips twice and trice– before cumming unloading in you. His hand locked around your neck tilting your face towards him to kiss you with a smile “you’re good to do princess.. my limo. Not yours.” You smiled sated, kissing him back with a little tongue “I’d love to.”

-

[fruitjoos]

do you trust me?

bully!patrick x reader

summary: bully patrick…. leads to [redacted] 18+

warnings friendly banter, light smut + i’m a little rusty so… be gentle

you met patrick when you were ten. he lived next door, just a skinny kid with dirty sneakers who always wanted to ride bikes. you didn’t mind. the two of you were inseparable then, tethered by boredom and proximity. you got older, though. things shift. kids don’t stay innocent, not for long.

by high school, patrick had drifted, caught up with the boys who reeked of arrogance and cigarettes, the ones who slammed lockers too hard and swaggered through the halls like they owned them. you were still you. quiet, stubborn. not the kind of person who backed down, but never loud about it either. when patrick started cracking jokes at your expense, you told yourself it didn’t matter. it shouldn’t, but god, did it sting. the way he laughed too loud, punched your shoulder too hard, joined his new friends in making you the punchline.

the first time he called you "freak" it landed like a rock to the chest. right there in the middle of a crowd, his voice sharp, eyes avoiding yours. you tried to brush it off, tried to pretend that the patrick from years ago was still buried somewhere under the snide smirks and dirty jokes. but when he started pulling your hair, burping in your face, it was harder to believe.

then there was the history project. the one that felt like a joke before it even started. partners, the teacher said, and you hoped, quietly, fiercely, that patrick wouldn’t be assigned to you. but life has a cruel sense of humor, doesn’t it? your name with his, as if the universe couldn’t resist rubbing salt in the wound. his groan reached your ears before yours even escaped your throat, and when he asked to switch partners, the heat rose to your cheeks. it was like you were something to be ashamed of, something small and pitiful.

after school, he found you at your locker, the same locker he used to stand next to, back when he wasn’t so... different. "what's up, loser," he muttered, shoulder checking you as if it were nothing, like you hadn’t spent summers kicking soccer balls in the backyard, sharing popsicles and trading comic books. now, all he had for you was sarcasm and a half hearted, "i’ll be over at six to work on the project."

he didn’t even wait for a reply. just walked off, hands shoved in his pockets like the conversation was already forgotten. his friends watched him go, smirking, like you were just another part of their cruel little game.

you got home, trying to shake off the sour taste the day left in your mouth. your dad asked how school was, but it was a formality. he wasn’t really listening, not past your shoulder, at least. "good," you lied, because the truth wasn’t worth the effort.

then the doorbell rang. you knew it was him before you even checked. he used to come over without knocking, back when things were simpler. now, it felt wrong, like he didn’t belong here anymore, yet he walked in like he still did, brushing past you without so much as a glance. the strap of his bag almost hit your face. typical.

your mom lit up like it was some reunion, like she didn’t notice the shift between you. “patrick, sweetheart,” she cooed, pulling him into a hug, her hand smoothing over his curls like she used to. it made your stomach twist, hearing her treat him like he hadn’t changed. but he had, hadn’t he?

you didn’t wait around for their small talk. upstairs felt safer, quieter. patrick followed, like he always had a right to, like he didn’t need to ask permission. he knew the way. he’d been in your room a hundred times. back then, when he was your friend. now, though, he was just the guy who sat behind you in class, yanked your ponytail when he wanted answers, and whispered insults under his breath.

funny how things turn out.

time dragged, the minutes between words heavy, like even the clock didn’t want to be there. patrick sat slouched at your desk, picking at his fingernails, bored already. he mentioned he only had an hour. just enough time before he had to meet his friends at the dump. a dive bar downtown, the kind of place that smelled like sweat and stale beer. you raised an eyebrow, asking if he was even old enough to get in, knowing full well he wasn’t. he pulled out a fake ID with a flourish, like it was something to be proud of. 23. five years older than his real age. you shook your head, a bitter scoff escaping before you could stop it.

"what?" he snapped, catching the edge in your voice. "stop being such a goody two shoes, will you?" he leaned in, voice dropping low, sharp. "no one likes a prude." his words, hissed in your own room, your space, hit harder than you thought they would. this wasn’t the boy who used to make you laugh until you cried. this wasn’t the patrick who snuck out to the park with you at midnight, just to talk about stupid dreams and shared your secrets with.

you could feel the tears gathering, uninvited, in the corners of your eyes. you didn’t want to cry. not in front of him. not when he’d see it as some kind of victory. but it was like he could sense it, the moment your breath hitched. he sighed, like the weight of your sadness was too much for him to carry. “don’t,” he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. “don’t cry, okay?”

but it was too late, and the first tear slipped down your cheek. you sniffled, wiping at your face quickly, trying to pretend it wasn’t happening, but his tone changed. "i’m sorry," he said, almost too soft to believe. he said it again, as if repetition might make it real. “i’m sorry. i didn’t mean it.”

for a few long moments, neither of you said anything. you sat there, on the edge of your bed, while he fidgeted with the zipper on his jacket, the silence growing thicker, heavier.

then he spoke, too casually, too easily. “i know how to make you feel better.”

“lay back,” he said, his voice firmer than you expected, almost a command. you blinked, caught off guard. “what?” you asked, still wiping the tears from your cheeks, not sure if you heard him right.

“do you trust me?” he asked, and his eyes had that look again, the one that used to be familiar, the one that always dared you to go along with whatever half baked idea he had.

“no,” you scoffed, voice thick, still bitter from his words earlier. you didn’t even hesitate, but your chest tightened a little, because there was a time when that question wouldn’t have needed to be asked.

he tilted his head, the silent gesture pressing the question again, almost like a challenge. you sighed, exhaling the fight from your lungs. “fine,” you muttered, lying back from the edge of the bed. you didn’t know why you were giving in. maybe a part of you still believed that under all the rough edges, he was still the patrick you used to know.

his eyes scanned over your room for a second before grabbing something. “put this on,” he said, handing it to you.

you looked down at it, blinking in confusion. a pink sleeping mask, silky and soft to the touch. ridiculous, absurd. you stared at it, then at him, trying to make sense of the moment. “what... are you doing?” you asked, more to yourself than him.

he didn’t answer, just nodded toward the mask. you could tell he was waiting, watching, like the whole thing was some inside joke you weren’t in on yet. for reasons you couldn’t explain, you did as he said, slipping the mask over your head. maybe you were tired. maybe you just didn’t want to argue anymore. or maybe, somewhere deep down, you did still trust him, even if you hated admitting it.

you blinked, confused, the world blurring slightly behind the mask. there was no sound, no movement from patrick, just this heavy stillness. the quiet stretched on, unsettling, until suddenly, you felt his hands lifting up your skirt—firm, steady, grasping your thighs. he pulled them forward, guiding your legs around his shoulders.

“patrick?” your voice came out small, the confusion clear, but you couldn’t see his face, couldn’t read whatever expression he wore. just as his name left your lips, you felt him move, closing the space between you. and then, unexpectedly, a cold, slimy glob landed with a wet splat on your cunt. his lips met your soft, surprisingly already soaked pussy. soft, warmer than you imagined, pressing gently but with a certainty that made your heart lurch.

it was so sudden, so out of place in the middle of this strange, awkward moment that your mind couldn’t catch up to your body. for a second, you froze, not sure what to do or think. this was patrick. the same boy who had spent the past year mocking you, pulling at your hair, calling you names. but now, here he was, lapping up your juices, his breath mingling with the heat radiating from your core, like none of that had happened. like this was the only thing that mattered.

his velvety tongue swirled around your pink, swollen nub. your body jolted as his teeth nipped at it. your mouth hung open as you gripped onto the sheets, trying to ground yourself. the slurping sounds he made sent shivers up your spine, “fuck.” you gasped, almost uncontrollably. “i’m sorry,” he whispered, pressing gentle kisses against your clit. almost like he was in love with it. in love with you. “i didn’t mean to make you cry.” he added, his warm breath adding to your pleasure. he asked if you forgive him and all you could do was nod, whimpering a small, “yes.” your eyebrows knitting together in satisfaction. his tongue flicked over your clit vigorously, making you come within seconds.

your hole clenched rapidly as you tried to catch your breath. your fingers tangled in a few of his curls. “when did you learn how to do that?” you panted, eyes still covered. he shrugged as if you could see him before pulling the mask from over your eyes. your cheeks instantly flushing when reality hit you. your ex best friend, bully or whatever just sucked an orgasm out of you. for fun. to please you. to make you forgive him. because he still cares, clearly.

he pressed his lips that were smothered in your liquids against your own. the taste of yourself soaking into your tongue. “you were my first experiment,” he murmured, his voice low. before you could process the weight of his words, he leaned in again, pressing another soft, almost calculated peck against your trembling lips.

[astrofhobia]

Post-Mortem AU

It would be amazing to have a Tsams AU based on mexican culture, where real moments from the history of that country are interpreted... WAIT

PUM 💥💥 I'm here.

I started designing these guys again a bit, I didn't really like their first designs that much, but I definitely like these ones.

For now, we have three, the most important ones, within this messy story.

The Sun, The Moon and The Eclipse

I want to give a little information about these silly guys, also some fun facts.

Sunrise

Sunrise. Called "Life" in this AU. Life is the third child of the "Creator" and the youngest. His older siblings are Lunar and Earth. He was born when a star appeared in the universe, the brightest and largest star the universe had ever seen, for this reason, he is considered the god of light, the god of the sun.

His purity caught the attention of "Creator" and he proclaimed him as his son.

Life's arrival brought many changes to the universe. And thanks to him, he convinced the other gods to create things that would worship them, based on the perfection of his father. Life called them "humans" tiny humans who lived on a balanced planet, the Earth.

Sun brought mankind. And mankind called him "The god of the creation" "The god of the Sun" "The god of the life".

Sun used to rule the earth. That was for a long time... Until things started to go wrong, very very wrong.

Moondrop. They used to call her "Death" in this universe.

She was born when the first human died. The bones of that human had joined together into a sticky mass which had formed a body and finally, a consciousness. "Creator" didn't consider her a daughter of purity. But "Killcode" did, he proclaimed her his daughter, his little daughter.

She didn't usually communicate much with the other gods, she always, always kept her distance, in her own bubble.

She used to have a kingdom, "Mictlán", where the souls of humans could rest for eternity. The place used to be quite... Depressing. Souls rested... But the place was completely alone, filled with the bones of humans and only Death there...

Something you really should know. She's not here anymore.

Eclipse. Called "Death" in this AU.

War. It was his first name. He was born from Killcode's blood, the drops of red blood fell. They formed a large puddle. And from that puddle, War appeared.

Creator considered him a god... different. He really repudiated his existence. But Killcode didn't, he called him his son. His first son.

Nobody knows that. He just appeared one day with the other gods.

His arrival was controversial. The gods called him "A mad god"...

Actually, Death has forgotten most of his past. He doesn't really know how he existed, or why he is the "god of death".

Fun facts

Death has the same personality as Eclipse (EAPS).

Death (Eclipse) often has constant nightmares. Surrounded by fire as his metallic body slowly burns until he wakes up, locked in a room without light until darkness consumes him completely, bloodcurdling screams of children, etc.

Death's body parts constantly fail, they just stop working for no reason. It's something... really annoying.

Death feels nauseous at the sight of blood, he really can't stand it.

Death is uncomfortable being around a lot of children, he doesn't really know why. He is not bothered by noise, if they are dirty or naughty, he simply cannot be with children for a long time.

Death is the current prince/god of Mictlán.

Death doesn't like the rain.

Death and Life live together on Earth. They live like normal humans, in a lower-middle class house, they pay taxes and are afraid of the SAT.

Life maintains the same personality as Dark Sun (SAMS) but here it is a little calmer and much more depressing.

Life has a place to sleep. He literally has a bed that he shares with Death but the idiot can end up sleeping in a shower if he wants because he's a weirdo.

Life, ironically enough, hates humanity. No one knows why.

Life can't stand loud noise, make some noise when he's upset and you probably have a ticket to Mictlán.

If Life really had to work in the human world he would be a doctor. An emergency doctor, he practically created anatomy, he can work with this.

Life used to run a daycare alongside Death (Moon). It burned down.

Death really likes music with movement, salsa, cumbia, she's really good at that.

Death's clothing is inspired by the catrina and the traditional clothing of Nuevo Leon, Mexico.

Death hates fire.

Death really wants to stab Life.

The skull on Death and Death's chest isn't just decoration. It's practically their exposed cores. Rip that off their chest and they'll probably pass out immediately.

Death and Life are Pro-PRI. Life is ignorant. Death is evil.

Death is Pro-PAN. She really is a evil girl.

If you want to know more about these fools, you can ask, my inbox¿ is open

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Annatar/Sauron x reader

-> in which Annatar tries to convince you that your father, Lord Celebrimbor, is the darkness you saw in the Unseen World

Warnings: manipulation (I mean, it’s Sauron)

“Are you well?”

You are not. That is why you left the forge to seek solace on the balcony, hoping that the sight of Eregion’s lights at night would help soothe your frayed nerves. But when Annatar asks the question, breaking your contemplation, you don’t quite want to admit it so plainly.

“I will be,” you tell him as he joins you at your side, standing with his hands on the edge of the balcony as you have been doing for the past few minutes. “I believe. Only that... I cannot put it out of my mind. What I saw.” You hesitate, your voice growing dimmer. “What I felt.”

Silence settles. You have yet to meet his gaze. Part of you feels guilty, even if it was an accident—putting on the Ring that carried you into the strange shadow realm for those few, terrifying moments. You feel as though you brought it upon yourself, and helped bring the darkness you had seen upon everyone else. After all, Lord Celebrimbor had insisted you do not join Annatar’s efforts to make any further Rings. But even as your father, he could not forbid you from doing so, and you wanted to believe that Men could be saved despite their shortcomings. The fact that Annatar shared your belief had only strengthened it. You knew you were right to try.

Now, you are not so sure.

“You are very brave,” Annatar says. Now, you do look at him. You find that his gaze is as soft as his voice, and his praise sincere. Your brow furrows in silent question, because you cannot fathom of what he speaks. Your experience with the Ring had left you trembling in fear, and you had not stopped until Annatar had stepped to your side, reassuring you that all was well.

“Some who behold the Unseen World are never quite at home in this one again.” He looks out at the city as he speaks, words laced with the deep wisdom you have come to recognize in him. “In its light, things appear as they truly are. Beings of different shades of light... and its darkness.”

“They looked very much the same,” you say softly. “The darkest presence appeared to me engulfed in the brightest light. I fear...” You trail off, the weight already in your heart doubling as you admit out loud, “I fear there might come a time when I’m not able to tell the difference.”

There is a sort of sadness in the smile Annatar gives you, but also understanding. “It is no easy thing, discerning truth from deceit.” He pauses, gaze drifting to his hands uncertainly. As if he’s not sure he should speak the words he does next. “Especially when we look upon those who are closest to us.”

“Of what do you speak?” you ask, sensing a deeper meaning to his words. Annatar turns more fully towards you, meeting your eyes with a grave look in his own.

“It pains me to say, for what you saw I did not wish for any of you to see. You, most of all, I had hoped to protect from this. Until I had helped him heal.”

At first, you are confused. But as his eyes bore into yours, willing you to understand, there is only one possible meaning to his words that you can think of. An erroneous one, surely.

“You cannot mean... My father?”

Annatar nods once. Your lips part to protest, but he speaks first. “I wish it were not so. The toll that creation has exacted from him in crafting the Three and the Seven has left him diminished. Vulnerable to the shadow.”

“Annatar, please,” you insist, driven by disbelief. “My father has his flaws, as do we all. And yes, the creation of the Rings is no doubt strenuous, but how could it make him capable of such evil as I saw?”

Annatar smiles, gently. “You love him a great deal.”

“We do not always see eye to eye,” you murmur, feeling suddenly shy under his tender gaze. “But yes.”

“And you are most precious to him as well, as is only natural,” Annatar reassures in earnest. “That has not changed, nor will it. But, surely, you have noticed yourself that... he is not now as kind to you as he once was.” He hesitates once more. “When you suggested that you go to Lindon and confess to your king that he had lied so that we may continue with our work, free of deceit...”

You remember, of course. Shaken by your previous experience with one of the Rings of Men, when Annatar had suggested that the Dwarves’ Rings had been corrupted by your father’s lie to Gil-galad, your first thought had been, naturally, to put it right. Your father had been furious. “He would never permit me to forge anything again!” he had said in horror. “You cannot possibly consider doing such a thing to your own kin.”

He had dismissed you, then, more harshly than he ever had. And you must admit it hurt. But that was only because he was afraid of losing the one thing he loves as much as he does you—his craft.

You tell Annatar as much.

“But there is something you don’t know,” he confesses. “After you left... Lord Celebrimbor ordered his guards to see to it that you were spied upon. And should you make any attempt at leaving Eregion... that you were to be brought back by any means necessary, and locked within your chambers.”

“Locked?” you say, frowning deeply. “No, he would never.”

“I wish it were not so. Alas, I was there to hear it myself. And it was a lucky thing, for I prevailed upon him to withdraw his word. On that occasion, it was but a moment of weakness. But I fear the sickness may spread, if left untended.”

His eyes never leave yours as he speaks, though it is plain how difficult he finds it to say such things to you. Despite how much you wish you could deny it, you find that the more you listen to his voice, the more you believe him. And it feels as though the floor is slipping from underneath your feet. This unease you’ve been feeling for weeks, the feeling that something isn’t quite right which you cannot escape inside the forge as you work side by side with your father... he is the very source of it. The being you most trust and cherish is what you saw in the Unseen World, pitiless and terrible.

No, not yet. But, as Annatar said, if the sickness spreads...

“What is there to be done?” you ask him, almost pleadingly. It’s clearer to you now than ever that he is your only hope.

“I shall do everything in my power to see him well again,” Annatar says. “As for you... I believe it would be best if, perhaps, you kept your distance from him.”

“You would have me abandon him at a time like this?”

“Not abandon, no. It would be for his sake, as much as yours. Whilst the Nine are still being crafted, his state might lead him to say or... do certain things that he might later regret. Which in turn might fuel the darkness, in a vicious circle. It is a terrible thing, I know,” he says, meaning to soothe as you shut your eyes tightly, tormented by his words.

“And you are sure the others know nothing of this?” you ask. Selfish as it may be, you don’t want them to judge that which they do not understand.

“Yes,” Annatar says, “and we must ensure this remains a secret. Even from your father himself. The beast within him shall be more easily defeated, if it does not know it is being fought.”

You nod in understanding. Now that the truth has been revealed, a tired numbness begins to settle over you. You had meant to save the Dwarves and Men as you had the Elves, for your gifts to help restore their light. Yet the dark seems to grow heavier with each passing second, and your father has been succumbing to it day by day without you even noticing. Have you condemned him to this, you wonder? Was there something you could have done differently?

“I have given you much to ponder,” Annatar says regretfully. “I shall leave you to your thoughts.”

And so he does. Or at least makes to. The moment he turns away, even when he is not yet quite gone from your side, the air seems to chill in anticipation of his leaving. Leaving you alone on the balcony, more alone that you remember feeling in all your years of life. It feels as though a sharp stone has sunk into your chest, and you cannot bear its weight upon your heart on your own.

“Annatar!”

Before you think it through, your hand is on his arm, causing him to hold still. You know he prefers not to be touched—you’ve seen him stiffen lightly when your father or some other smith pats him on the shoulder, however friendly the gesture. That is why you withdraw your hand as soon as you realize what you have done, even though he does not seem as bothered now. All you find in his gaze as he turns back towards you is the question of what drove you to hold onto him as you did. In truth, you are not sure what you need from him. Only that you want him there, with you, because...

“I am afraid.”

The words are but a whisper, and they sound like a plea as much as a trembling confession. You cannot see your way through the darkness anymore, and you feel as though the only light you can hope to find is him.

This time, it is he who touches you—reaching for your hand, cradling it in both of his as if he were protecting something precious.

“You need not be,” he vows softly. “Not whilst I am here.”

The words wash over you in soothing waves. His touch is already a wonderful balm, but then he lifts your hand to his lips, pressing the most delicate kiss against your knuckles, and... all is well. All will be well. The shadows cannot touch you, or that which you love, so long as there is such luminous beauty in your life to keep them at bay. And beautiful he is, as your eyes remain locked, the moonlight catching in his hair ethereally and making your heart tremble pleasantly instead of rattle with fear.

“Stay with me a little longer, would you?” you ask then, unable to help yourself.

“Of course,” he smiles that gentle smile of his. “For as long as you like.”

After that, your hand remains in his. Whereas the thought of touching him felt forbidden before, nothing feels more natural now that he has welcomed it. You hope for more—and, in time, you shall have it.

If only you knew it is the darkness itself that you are touching all along.

[literary-motif]

In All My Dreams I Drown

Asirel Cain x Reader

Asirel experiences sleep paralysis.

Warnings: Insomnia, sleep paralysis

Asirel was not afraid of the dark. He had never been. The inky blackness of night had a way of soothing him. It seemed almost like the only escape from the crushing responsibility he carried during the day — almost because although the US slept, there were plenty of places around the world that were bussing with life and plenty of phone calls and e-mails he received during the dark hours. 

Still, it felt different. Breathing was easier during the night. He had always enjoyed being awake while the world around him slept. 

He had stretched this indulgence a little too far, it seemed. 

When he first started he had finished business at perhaps one in the morning, going off to bed soon after. One had turned to two over the years, two to three. Now when he looked up from his computer screen, it was usual to see the blue tint of the early morning light, just before the sunrise. He went to bed when the sun rose, but his daily responsibilities never lessened. 

Somehow, there was always more to do — more to plan, more to think about,  more to work out. He was always busy, and although his hours of sleep had been steadily reduced over many years, the time he tried to wake up rarely varied. 

It was becoming an issue. Asirel was very much aware of that. He had fought long and hard to reduce his hours, choosing to slip into bed as early as eleven at night, only to lie awake until the early hours anyway. 

What had started as simply an unconventional sleeping schedule had developed into a more serious issue. 

“Mr. Cain,” the blonde woman before him had said, giving him a sympathetic smile he thought she must flash to every patient. The sterile whiteness of her office nearly outshone the brightness of her coat, the stethoscope practically gleaming under the harsh artificial lights. “I am afraid there is not much I can do. Plainly speaking, it seems to me that you are under a lot of stress — if you reduce the stress, I am sure your insomnia will disappear.”

He had wanted to scoff but returned her smile with his own. It was polite, although a bit sardonic. “How do you suppose I do that, Doctor?”

She blinked as if nobody had ever asked her that question. “Well, it depends on what causes the stress, but either way I’d suggest—”

Physical activity. This time he did scoff, hiding it behind a cough. 

Working out seemed the cure for everything, just like water. Asirel, have you tried going outside more? His mother’s words had felt mocking, and hearing the same advice from this professional who did not take his ailment seriously made a bitter taste appear in his mouth. 

Headache? Drink some water. Back pain? Have you tried losing weight? Insomnia? Why, do some sports! 

Pathetic. He took the prescription for sleeping pills without another word. 

Sleeplessness in adults was very common, stress from work being mostly the cause of it, and although he supposed everyone experienced a bad night of sleep every once in a while — where they tossed and turned endlessly, without getting their mind to shut up as thoughts and worries swirled around until night turned to day and it felt like they had not slept at all — if these issues persisted for over half a month, things were no longer casual. 

Reduce the stress she had said. How exactly could he do that, when his very existence came with a relentless pressure pushing down on his shoulders? His life was heavy. He did important things, and although he loved the responsibility and influence he had — the power. He loved the power of his job — he was the first to admit that his work had cost him many sleepless nights and hours pouring over papers at his desk with seemingly no end in sight. 

The world was draining him of his strength, the love for his work — and the determination to change things according to his vision for it — faded under the relentless strain he had been under. He was at the end of his rope.

Much like a broken arm or sprained ankle, his insomnia hurt. It had causes, it had consequences. His mind felt like mush on some days, his thoughts dragging along until it took too much energy to direct their stream. His memory worsened, and the days blended — he remembered only little bursts of something, the important bits of meetings and conversations while all the rest faded to black. 

How long since he had last seen his mother? A day? A week? When had his sister called? This morning? The day before yesterday? It was all a big lump of gray. 

When had he last fed you? It must not have been that long ago, or else you would have complained.

Asirel was exhausted. He needed the world to stop for a day until he had his mind back together and ceased fraying at the edges. He took two sleeping pills, downing them with a large gulp of water.

They did not work as he had wished. He lay on his back, listening to the clock ticking on the other side of the room until his eyelids dropped, but he did not sleep. He lay awake for hours — still hours — until he slipped into oblivion, but his sleep was far from restful. 

It felt like he did not sleep at all.

He thought he opened his eyes in the morning, looking at the rays of sun streaming in through his window. He found he could not move. His heart skipped a beat, his mind slipping into a spiral of panic that the rational part of his brain sliced through with two words: sleep paralysis.

Where were the hallucinations? 

As the thought crossed his mind, he heard it. Loud banging came from the hallway, stomping that came closer and closer. His heart sped up, fear pulling him under despite knowing this was not real. He knew it, but the bangs approaching, getting louder and louder in tandem with his racing heartbeat made it hard to believe it. 

He tried to close his eyes, not wanting to see what his mind would come up with to torment him, but he could not. The room would not disappear before him, and he still could not move. 

Terror seized him, and he tried fighting the unshakable pressure pinning him down. The world around him felt like dough, his body limp around it as it was pushed into the mattress. There was a weight on his chest, heavy, unlike anything he had ever experienced before as it crushed him, keeping his lungs trapped. 

Something moved at the edge of his vision. The stomping approached closer and closer. Asirel wanted to scream. He tried, but his mouth did not comply, there was no air in his lungs. The only thing escaping him was a low whimper. The stomping came from right beside his bed.

A figure walked into his line of vision. It vaguely looked like him, but as he stared into its pale face — too pale — he saw blood trickling from its mouth. Its hair was dirty, a dark shade of blonde with specks of deep red in it. Its black eyes stared at him as it approached. 

He had never been as scared as he was now, helplessly trapped in his mind while this shadow version of himself reached out a bloodied hand towards his face. It leaned closer, hovering inches from him. 

“They’re coming to make you pay,” it said, "make you pay. Pay. For all you have done, they’ll make you pay. Pay. Pay. I’ll kill you if you don’t pay. Make you pay. They’re coming. They’re coming! Hide!”

The door flung open. Asirel felt himself resurfacing. The apparition vanished, the banging stopped and he blinked his eyes open. His brain felt numb, slowly awakening with pins and needles as he turned around. He still felt heavy, barely awake as reality slowly clicked back into place.

You stood in the doorway, surveying the room with a stance that told him you were ready to lunge at an attacker. Once you realized the room was empty, your eyebrows furrowed. “I heard your heart beating out of your chest not twenty seconds ago, Asirel. What’s going on?”

The pressure on his chest had lifted, and he let out a deep sigh as he moved a hand — relief flooding when he realized he could — to rest against his forehead. What an experience. Something still felt off, and there was a creeping terror at the edge of his mind that he could not shake. 

“Had,” he cleared his throat, closing his eyes to escape your puzzled expression, “had a— a nightmare, I suppose.” It was not the truth, but he did not feel like explaining sleep paralysis to you. The experience was still too fresh on his mind, and he feared talking about it might make it more real, turning this into a permanent curse. “Thanks for— for waking me.” Thanks for watching out for me.

You stared at him, the trembling in his voice and his still accelerated heartbeat telling you that something had shaken him to his core. “No problem,” you said, approaching him to sit on the edge of the bed. 

Asirel gave you an uncertain look. Hesitatingly, he lifted the edge of the covers. 

You chuckled, slipping in beside him. He snuggled into your arms immediately, resting his head on your shoulder and breathing in your scent. 

It grounded him, having you close. Your strong arms around him made him feel secure like nothing else could, certain that you would protect him. Despite it all, he knew he could trust you — and you knew he did as you heard his heartbeat even out and his breathing deepen. “Do you mind if I—?” he mumbled, eyelids drooping.

“Go ahead. I’ll be here when you wake up,” you said, fastening your hold on him. Asirel drifted off to sleep in your arms, catching a few hours of the most restful sleep he had had in a long time. 

[bluetoes-andstuff]

Ape and Flow

Caesar x Human!Reader

Summary: You’re moody. Caesar’s not sure what to do to fix it.

Word Count: 5k

Rating: General

Warning: PMS stuff

***You guys voted, so here ya go. Honestly wasn’t expecting to have to do it from Caesars perspective, but I accepted the challenge, trying not to make the reader seem too insane lol. This one got away from me so Enjoy***

The sun peeked through the dense fog, reflecting a soft hue of the early morning light across the forest floor. Caesar stood at the edge of his home, scanning the horizon. The morning was serene, the air crisp and filled with the sounds of nature waking up. It was his favorite time of day; a moment of serenity before the day's responsibilities swept him up with unending activity.

His thoughts drifted to you, as they usually do in these quiet moments. Things between the two of you were slowly beginning to develop. Caesar has been more than forward with his intentions, and he feels like you were finally beginning to reciprocate his feelings. Though sometimes he wonders if you realize how serious he is with his intent on courtship. The treasures he leaves outside your home seem to bring no more satisfaction or attachment than the sentiments Rocket or Tinker would bestow on you through the day. And his efforts to provide you with companionship and comfort seem no more appreciated than Maurice’s same platonic attempts.

Of course, with his duties to the colony he can’t exactly dedicate every moment of his day to spending with you, but he most definitely makes an effort to spend every spare moment he can at your side, claiming you in the eyes of the other apes, that you were his for the taking. You spend most of your time with the other females or with Maurice and the young ones, but most every male knew who you belonged to even if you yourself were not quite aware yet.

That in itself brought Caesar enough satisfaction and contentment, knowing no one else had their eyes on you. Not that they would, considering most every ape thought it absurd his attraction to you.

And despite both of your differing responsibilities, Caesar found himself drawn to your side more and more each passing day. He kept finding excuses to accompany you on your scavenging adventures, and your gardening chores when he had nothing else pressing to do.

So because of your growing closeness and physical proximity… the past few days, Caesar had noticed a slight change in your interactions. The usual exuberance and chattering has been replaced with a more withdrawn moodiness. Your usual bright demeanor clouded by something he couldn’t quite identify. You laughed less, your smiles were more fleeting, and there was a tension in your movements that hadn’t been there before. He had tried to ask you about it, but you brushed off his concerns with a forced smile and a quick change of subject almost every time he branched the subject.

He considers himself to be quite an observant and considerate ape… so he knows this change in attitude is not something of his own thinking. It is a legitimate concern that keeps coming back to mind.

This only proves true later in the morning where the change becomes more pronounced. As Caesar prepares to join the hunting party, he glanced over at you sitting by the fire, staring into the flames with an abject frown. Your shoulders hunched and a tightness around your eyes screaming discomfort.

He hoots gently as he approaches on all fours, slowly coming into your line of sight as he signs slowly “Are you alright?”

You looked at him, your eyes meeting his for a brief moment before looking away. “I’m fine, Caesar. Just tired.”

He frowned, not convinced. “Something is bothering you,” he insists.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “It’s really nothing. Just… one of those days.”

Caesar nods slowly, though he wasn’t quite satisfied with that answer. Even though he wasn’t as close to you as he wished he was, he still had a good understanding of who you were and how you acted day to day, and you were most definitely not yourself. He knew there was more to it, but he also knew better than to push you when you weren't ready to talk.

“If you're sure….” He speaks slowly, reaching out to gently grasp one of your hands in his.

You give him a small, grateful smile. “I’m sure. Don’t worry about me.”

Both Koba and Spear call out for his attention and it forces him to withdraw from you with one last small exchange. He reaches forward for you to caress his arm and face as you usually do upon his departure, but you simply grab onto his fingers and force a smile before letting go with a simple squeeze. It may seem insignificant to anyone else there to witness it, but it was a drastic change in your usual exchange and Caesar can’t help but feel the craving for your usual affection and sentiment.

He slowly withdrew to join the hunting party, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. There had to be! He replayed your recent interactions in his mind, trying to piece together the puzzle. Your mood had been slowly shifting, and today it seemed to have reached a tipping point. He resolved to keep a closer eye on you, hoping to understand what was troubling you and how he could help, even if he had to force it out.

He got drawn into his usual duties, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you at every spare moment. His distractions through the morning almost cost the colony a kill or two, so he decided with a finality that he would seek you out as soon as he returned to end this contemplation…

Caesar returns to the camp after a successful hunt, carrying a bundle of fresh game on the back of his horse. He spotted you near the edge of the colony, outside the home you’ve been residing in the past few months. You sat on a wide stump, slumped forward, attempting to start a fire while muttering under your breath. Your movements were jerky and uncoordinated, your entire body clinging to a weird stiffness he had never seen you with before.

“Need help?” Caesar called slowly. He jumps down from his horse, handing it off to another ape to bring to the stables.

You look up when you hear him, your expression a mix of frustration and exhaustion. “No, I’ve got it,” you snap, striking the flint with a little more force than necessary.

Caesar raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his eyes. Your stubbornness was always a subject of amusement for him. “The fire… might disagree.”

You glare at him, but there was a flicker of a smile creeping along your face. “Very funny, Caesar. Maybe you should stick to hunting.”

He chuckled, kneeling beside you, reverting back to sign. “And maybe you should let me help before you set the whole colony on fire.”

You sigh, handing him the flint. “Fine. But if you can’t get it started, I’m gonna laugh.”

Caesar took the flint, his fingers brushing yours briefly. He struck it a few times with practiced hands, and soon a small flame flickered to life. He glanced at you, a triumphant smile on his face. “See? No forest fires today.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help but chuckle. “Whatever Caesar.”

Caesar sat himself beside you, enjoying the companionable silence as the two of you sat around the fire. Caesar noticed the tension in your shoulders begin to worsen as you stared silently into the flames. He hoped that whatever was bothering you would pass soon, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something deeper was at play. For now, he decided to focus on the moment, enjoying the rare chance to have a moment of shared serenity with you.

The sun was high in the sky when you and Caesar made your way back to the center of the colony. The morning’s tension still lingered between you even after your quiet moments together, but Caesar tried to push it aside as you two approached the town center. The colony was alive with activity—apes working together to construct new shelters, children playing, and the sounds of laughter and conversation filling the air.

Caesar spotted Maurice near the center of the camp, surrounded by a group of young apes who were eagerly listening to one of his stories. You usually enjoyed these moments, often joining Maurice and the young ones, cuddling them in your lap and stroking their soft baby fur, but today you did not show any interest in joining. Some of the young apes watch as the two of you pass by, eyes fixated on you in anticipation of you joining them, but you never look their way.

Caesar had plans to bring you to the communal fire where you could linger in your reflections while still being surrounded by the camaraderie of others so you might not be left so lonely, but as soon as you came close, you were immediately approached by Leaf. “Can you help me with the herbs? I need to sort them for tonight’s meal.”

You nod, forcing a smile. “Sure, Leaf. I'll help you out.”

Caesar watched as you walked away with Leaf, your shoulders still tense even in the presence of one of your good friends. He sighed, turning his attention to the hunting party dispersed around the fire. Koba and Rocket sat together, discussing the success of the morning’s hunt, the distribution of the game, and plans for the next outing as they usually did. More often than not he made an effort to involve himself in those discussions, but lately, you had taken priority.

He took a seat amongst the others to join their discussions, but his thoughts kept drifting back to you just as it had prior that day. Koba of course noticed his distracted state, and more than once bumped him in the shoulder with a disapproving look. Although he does not verbally discuss his disapproval for his relationship with you, he makes it very clear in other ways.

It took far longer than usual. At least it felt like it did, but after finishing his discussions with the hunting party, Caesar decided to check on you. He found you and Leaf near the storage area, sorting through bundles of herbs. Your movements were quick and precise, but there was an edge to your actions that hadn’t been there that spoke volumes to anyone paying attention.

Caesar hooted gently as he approached, gaining both ladies’ attention. He places a careful hand on the small of your back as he signs, pressing his body close to yours. “How’s it going?” Caesar asked..

Leaf looked towards you both with a smile. “We’re almost done. Thanks to your help, of course.” She looks towards you with the final statement but you weren’t even looking at her to see her signs.

Leaf frowns then directs her gaze to Caesar. “What happened? She has been off all day.”

Caesar shares a look with her. “I know.” The emphasis and dramatization of his sign spoke enough for him… this has been an ongoing battle with you for days now. It just seems to finally becoming more obvious to the others.

You still didn’t look up, your focus entirely on the herbs.

Caesar frowned, the hand he had rested on your back inching to grasp your hip, encircling you in his arm. “Can we… talk?”

You finally looked up, your eyes flashing with irritation, like just his presence beside you was infuriating. You push his hand away roughly, taking a step to the side to face him head on with your glare. “What is it, Caesar? I’m busy.”

The tone shocks him. You had never spoken to him in that way… In fact, no one has ever spoken to him like that. Leaf seems to share in his shock, staring between the two of them like she was expecting Caesar to throw you to the ground in some dominant display.

He would never, of course, simply because you had no concept of what your actions or tone were implying. There was no need to assert his dominance to you when he knew you were not seeking to challenge him.

He takes a deep breath and tries to keep his tone calm. Because even though his mind reasons that you do not mean to imply what you are, the instinct in him is sparking the flame of his anger.. “I’m concerned… You’ve seemed… off lately.”

Your expression softened for a moment, almost apologetic in a way, but then you shook your head and dismissed him with a wave. “I’m fine, really. Just tired.”

Before Caesar could say much more. You place the last of the herbs from your bundle on the table. You spin around to fix him with a forced grin. “I’m going down to the river for some alone time. I’ll see you later.”

And with that, you were gone.

Caesar knew a dismissal when he heard one. No matter how badly he wished to follow you and force you to tell him what was wrong, he did not.

He wasn’t really sure what to do now… for the past few months every free moment he’s had he’s spent with you. So, now, with no further responsibilities today, he had no idea what to do with himself. It was embarrassing how lost he felt with your absence. Before your arrival he was a self-sustainable, confident leader, now here he is resorted to an insecure mess.

He watches you go. He and Leaf exchange one last glance before he huffs and turns around, heading back to the communal fire on all fours. He takes the seat he had just vacated and both Koba and Rocket give him curious looks.

“What’s wrong?” Rocket signs

Caesar sighs, gives one meaningful look towards Rocket then signs your name. Rocket, of all the apes in the colony, had the most experience with females, even over Caesar himself. It was possible the chimp may have some advice.

“What did she do?” Koba questions, his interest peaked.

“It is what I did.” Caesar emphasizes.

“What did you do?” Rocket presses.

Caesar shakes his head, hands firmly clasped together in his lap as he speaks. A far away look in his eyes, “ I do not know.”

Both apes exchange a glance about Caesar's cryptic answer, unsure if they should wait for their king to expound or question him further.

“She does not want me around her,” He signs. “She avoids me, and whenever I try to speak with her she is short and terse. And when I touch her, she pulls away. She is not herself. ”

Koba shakes his head with a scowl. “How disrespectful.” He turns away from Caesar as he signs. “You must correct her.”

“No,” Rocket disagrees, “she is upset. You have no idea what you might have done?” He turns his question into Caesar.

“No,” he insists with a grunt. “I make sure to leave her a treasure every morning, and when she awakes, I bring her her favorite berries for breakfast and a fur to keep her warm. She had even mentioned her human drink, tea, and I have managed to find the best herbs to make her one every evening. I’ve even brought her to the human places to find clothing and human things. And I’ve made sure she never has to worry about being lonesome. I’ve been trying very hard to show her my intention.”

Koba scoffs, but Rocket sits to contemplate. “Maybe…” he begins, “she is smothered.”

Caesar hoots at him in offense. “Smothered?!”

“Some females panic when a male moves too quickly with them.”

Caesar pauses in shock. That was it! That had to be it! He didn’t know why he hadn’t consulted Rocket sooner.

“You are right. Thank you Rocket.” He taps Rocket on the shoulder in thanks, pulling him forward to brush their foreheads together.

“Anytime my friend.”

***

The sun had begun to set, casting long shadows across the camp as the apes gathered for their evening meal around the communal fire. The air was filled with the sounds of chatter and laughter, a sense of camaraderie that usually brought comfort to Caesar. But tonight, his mind was elsewhere. His eyes scoured the crowd for your familiar head of hair, but you’ve yet to return from the river. He’s kept a watchful eye on the entrance to the colony and you’ve been gone all afternoon. You knew his rule about being out after dark, and you’d be cutting it close. If you weren’t back by the time supper was over, he’d go out to find you himself.

You’d be pissed about it… but it was for your own safety.

He ate his fruit rather aggressively— he was well aware— as he stared towards the entrance. In actuality his worry was slowly morphing into irritation. The complete and total disregard for his rules was an insult to his authority, whether you were romantically entangled or not.

And just when Caesar about had enough of waiting, there you were. You shuffle into the colony with a deep frown on your face and your arms wrapped tight around your body. Obviously you were not quite over your mood, but you had more than enough time to yourself and Caesar had some things to discuss with you.

He waits for you to find your seat among a group of females. One of them hands you a bowl of food and you force a smile before slowly beginning to pick at your food. Caesar watches you from a distance for a few moments before he decides to approach, hoping to bring some sort of resolution before the day ends. This had gone on long enough.

He approached you, his presence commanding attention. Before he is able to even utter a word you look up at him with a scowl.

“What now, Caesar? Can’t you see I’m trying to eat?”

The camp fell silent, all eyes turning to the unexpected confrontation. Caesar felt a surge of anger and embarrassment. It was one thing for you to voice your upset in private, but challenging him in front of the entire colony was another matter entirely. And it was completely uncalled for no matter how smothered you felt.

He growls low and deep as he says your name with a snap, his voice low and controlled to match his slowly declining mood. “I think we need to talk. Now.”

You stand up abruptly, your frustration finally boiling over. “Why? So you can tell me how off I’ve been lately? You think I don’t know I’ve been a total bitch?! Even if I didn’t know, you’ve made sure I was well aware, haven’t you?.”

The murmurs around the camp grew louder, the apes exchanging uneasy glances between each other. Caesar’s jaw tightens, his instinct to assert his dominance beginning to kick in. He straightens to his full height, his posture imposing as his nostrils flare dangerously.

His voice carries a warning as he says your name once more. “This is not the time or place.”

But you were beyond reasoning at this point, your anger had boiled over and there was not much anyone could do about it. “No, Caesar! I’m done with this! I’ve got some shit going on you don’t know about. So, I don’t need you breathing down my neck at every waking second.”

The camp was deathly silent now, every ape watching the scene unfold. Caesar’s anger flared, his authority being challenged in a way that couldn’t be ignored. He took a step forward, his eyes blazing with his pent up fury. This was not a feeling he enjoyed having directed towards you, and if you were anyone else you’d be pinned to the ground by now with an eye full of his fangs.

He growls your name once more, like it was a final warning, rumbling with suppressed fury. “Enough.”

The dominance in his stance was unmistakable, a clear signal to everyone present. And you seem to finally come to realize the gravity of your actions. You had crossed a line, and the consequences would be immediate. Sometimes you forget Caesar was not human like you, despite his human qualities, he was an animal driven by instinct. A very powerful, very dominant alpha male.

You take a step back, your anger quickly giving way to fear and regret. “Caesar, I—”

He doesn’t move, his gaze locked on yours, a silent command for submission. You’ve never seen him look so intense before, and you had never ever expected to see that look directed towards you. Not from your sweet, attentive Caesar.

The other apes watched, their respect for Caesar’s authority palpable. It was clear who was in the wrong in this altercation, there was no question.

Your shoulders slump, your defiance crumbling. You held out your hand, palm up, a final plea of submission. “I’m sorry,” you whisper, your voice barely audible. Your shame sent a rippling shiver through your body, the anticipation of his potential rejection almost unbearable.

Caesar’s expression softened slightly, but he had to remain firm. He reached out, swiping your hand gently. Your body racks with an obvious sigh of relief before you turn and flee, your face flushed with shame and tears.

The camp remains silent in your absence, the tension thick in the air. Caesar takes a deep breath, his anger slowly ebbing away. He knew that this confrontation had been necessary, but it pained him to see you in so much distress with the inability to comfort you, knowing he was the cause.

As the evening continued, the apes resumed their activities, though the atmosphere was noticeably subdued. Caesar retreated to a quiet spot, a secluded area near the edge of the forest. He needed a moment to himself, away from the prying eyes and the weight of leadership. Sitting on a fallen log, he let his thoughts drift back to the beginning of his relationship with you.

He remembered the first time you met, the cautious curiosity in your eyes, and the way you had slowly opened up to him. Your bond had grown quickly, fueled by shared human experiences and mutual respect. He recalled the laughter you two shared during your explorations of the forest and into the human city, the quiet moments by the river, and the way your presence had brought a new kind of warmth to his life.

Caesar smiled as he thought about how quickly he had fallen and how desperate he was to express that to you when he first came to the realization. It took you some time to take notice of the little things he did to show his care for you. The fresh berries he’d bring by each morning, knowing they were your favorite. The abundant number of furs he left outside your home every time they came available to him. He knew how susceptible you’d be to the cold in the coming months. Then the times he’d steer away from his usual group of apes to sit with you by the fire and listen to your stories about the human world. The way he would gently brush the hair out of your face when you were deep in thought. He treasured the way you’d blush at him as his fingers brushed against the soft skin of your cheek. Each gesture was a silent promise of his affection and commitment.

But as he reflected on these moments, a nagging doubt began to creep in. Had he done something to cause this rift between you? Had he been too forward as Rocket suggested? He was under the impression that you felt the same as him by the way you gravitated towards him and touched him. Maybe he had misread your actions because what else would justify your sudden anger and animosity.

He thought about the past few days, the subtle changes in your behavior, and the way you became more withdrawn. He had tried to be patient, to give you space, but it seemed the space he gave was not enough. The more he thought about it, the more frustrated he became. He had done everything he could to show his love and support, and yet, it felt like you were pushing him away. All he wanted from you was a straight answer.

Caesar clenched his fists, his frustration bubbling to the surface. It wasn’t just about his authority being challenged in front of the colony; it was about the hurt and confusion it brought on. He had always prided himself on being a fair and understanding leader, but this situation with you was testing his patience in ways he hadn’t anticipated.

He took a deep breath, trying to calm the storm of emotions inside him. He knew that getting angry wouldn’t solve anything. He needed to find a way to reach you, to understand what was really going on. If you did not want him the way he wanted you… it might devastate him in the moment but he would respect your wishes. For now, all he could do was wait and hope that you would come to him when you were ready.

As the night grew darker, Caesar’s thoughts remained with you. He headed back to the colony to find the camp quiet, the only sounds being the gentle rustling of leaves and the occasional call of a nocturnal creature. He gave a nod to Luca and the other guard standing watch then ascended to his home high above the trees. The glow of the fire still burning in his hut lit the path leading to his home and he paused at the entrance to glance out into the dark forest, hoping that when you retreated you did not leave the safety of colony grounds.

He did not have to worry for long though. When he stepped into his home, he took one glance towards his nest to find a mess of furs he did not remember leaving there… as he approached he noticed the soft quivering of the lump hidden beneath them

He rushes to slip into his nest, reaching out a hand towards what he knew for fact had to be you.

The whisper of your name cuts through the silence, his voice laced with shock and concern. “Are you ok?”

The furs go flying, followed by a mess of limbs as you scramble towards him, quite literally attaching yourself to his front like a babe.

“I’m so so sorry, Caesar,” you bawl, your voice muffled against his chest. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean it.”

Caesar’s heart aches at the sound of your distress, his earlier frustration melting away. He wrapped his arms around you, holding you close. He tips back slowly, bringing you with him until you’re both lying together in the comfort of his nest as he holds you in his arms “Shh, it’s alright,” he murmurs, stroking your hair gently, holding your head close to his chest as your tears soak through his fur. “All is forgiven.”

He could feel your pain and regret, and it pained him to see you so distressed like this. He wanted to demand an explanation, to understand what had driven you to such a drastic state, but he knew that now was not the time. You needed his support, not his questions— as you had so kindly pointed out earlier that evening.

As your sobs begin to subside, Caesar continues to hold you, his touch gentle and reassuring as his hands skate up and down your back. When you finally seemed more composed, you pulled back slightly, and he got a full look at your tear-streaked face.

His voice rumbles gently with the sound of your name, and you cling to him once more, shoving your face against his warm collar. “What's wrong? Please tell me.”

You take a shaky breath, keeping your face hidden against his neck. “It’s stupid,” You whine.

“Not stupid if it… bothers you.” He speaks as soft as he can muster, and you cling tighter to him in your distress.

“It’s… it’s— I’m on my period.” you pause as if expecting him to question what it is, but before he can inquire you keep going, rapidly trying to justify and explain. “Every month I bleed really bad and I cramp. My stomach feels like it’s being stabbed over and over, and this time it feels so much worse for some reason! And then on top of it all it makes me so irrationally angry and irritated at everyone and everything. Most of the time it’s for no reason, but I-I just can’t help it sometimes. So I’m sorry Caesar! It’s my fault.”

“Your cycle?” Caesar confirms with an inquisitive scrunch to his brows. Female chimps had a cycle as well, but growing up he had heard the jokes about the horrors of the human female's cycle… human media often highlighted the bad side effects. The same ones you had just told him.

You nod, all pitiful like. “I didn’t want to bother you.”

Caesar scoffed Into your hair, then drifted his hand to your abdomen, gently pressing down. “It hurts here?” he asked.

You nod again, nuzzling closer with a quiet whine. “Real bad.”

Caesar purrs, a soothing sound that rumbled deep in his chest. He tucks you in closer, his hand rubbing gentle circles on your belly. “You should’ve told me... I would have held you all day.”

You managed a small, grateful smile, your body relaxing against his. “I wanted to be tough.”

“Why be tough… when I am here… to take care of you?” He reaches over you to grab one of the loose furs, then pulls it closer to drape over the both of you. You two had yet to share a nest for the night, but now was as good a time as any to start.

You close your eyes as you finally allow yourself to relax completely in his arms. “I don’t deserve you ”

He held you close, his heart filled with a renewed sense of commitment. The relief he felt knowing it wasn’t his forwardness to be causing your bad mood was a weight off his shoulders.

You fell asleep in his arms, face still tucked away. He continues his gentle massage on your abdomen. This he could manage… he is more than happy to take care of you.

[downbaddetective]

I'm finally coming back to one of my previous posts. (Thank you to @m-eowdy for the reminder to finish the thought. I'm sorry if it's a little disappointing after the wait.)

Specifically these two shots of Edwin being completely covered in our two most important colors, because the symbolism here is significant to me.

I lost the original thoughts that I had (unfortunately migraines make me forget things) and by the time I was feeling kind of okay I knew that there were things I wanted to say but couldn't remember how. So, instead, I sat and rewatched the show, taking notes so that I could make sure that I wasn't making anything up.

So, color symbolism in this show is so stupidly important, and it's called out by characters in universe (thank you, Niko). We obviously see our characters in their colors, Edwin in blue, Charles in red, Crystal in purple, and Niko in pink. But it's also not that cut and dry. Edwin, in all reality, is very grey, Crystal wears a lot of different colors, and so does Niko. Obviously, part of that is because the girls aren't dead and have to change their clothes, but the colors that are worn are still significant to their state of mind and the events happening around them. With Edwin and Charles, it's very similar, though a little different. Charles' red gets darker as he is more and more affected by what happens at the Devlin house. Edwin, though, barely shows his blues most of the time, but when he becomes vulnerable, he sheds his grey layers, and we see it a lot more.

Now, I think that it's worth mentioning that Edwin and Charles swap their afterlife colors, so when they look at each other, they see their afterlife. The red and blue also give us clues as to things that they're hiding. Red being often associated with anger and blue with sadness. That being said, I'm now getting to the symbolism in the fact that Edwin is one of two* characters to be washed in both hell's red and death's (heaven's?) blue like this.

Edwin's entire journey is kind of impeded by the fear of getting caught by the afterlife and being sent back to hell. Red is his constant source of fear, hell being the biggest example, but Charles in his red is also the cause of Edwin's issues. Charles is the reason why both the Cat King and Monty have some type of red associated with them during interactions with Edwin. These colors are omens for Edwin. Charles essentially shared his blue afterlife light with him. They were meant to be detectives together, and that's where it all starts, right there in that attic. The red, on the other hand, is indicative of the bullshitery that is incoming, including the worst-case scenario, aka BEING DRAGGED BACK TO HELL. RIGHT THERE. IN THE APARTMENT THAT THEY GO LOOK AT RIGHT AFTER THIS. (Even though it is definitely at least partially his own darn fault.) The fact that we see these two scenes out of order also indicates that by the end of it all Edwin has overcome the previously stated bullshitery. We see Edwin interact with these two colors as a collective much more in the show, and it's seems it's because this was Edwin's time to learn and grow, and I suspect that if we get a season two at some point, we will see that flip so that Charles can have his turn.

All in all, I am absolutely in love with the colors in this show and I will probably have more to say later but I wanted to finish at least this part of the color analysis so that I could have a resolution to the previous post. I don't think I was able to recover all of my original thoughts about the significance of these two, but I think I got a pretty good chunk of it. I do want to say that I've seen the other color analyses floating around. I will be taking a look at some point, but before doing my own, I will be avoiding them for now because I want to write about my own perception rather than accidentally just stealing other peoples work.

(* Ngl, a little worried about Jenny if we ever see a season two)

[moonsandmobilityaids]

Honest Conversations

Pairings: Poly!marauders x disabled!reader Summary: The boys want to talk about sex. Warnings: Chronic pain and mentions of sexual dysfunction Series Masterlist

The bedroom is alive with the soft crackle of the fireplace, its warm light dancing across familiar faces. The armchairs are pushed aside, making room for a nest of blankets and cushions on the floor where you're settled in for the evening. Low chatter fills the space, punctuated by quiet laughter—a symphony of shared history between you and the Marauders.

But tonight, an undercurrent of something more serious tugs at the edges of your awareness. It's an unspoken question that has lingered in the air for some time now, growing heavier with each passing moment.

You shift slightly, your back resting against Remus's chest as he leans against the headboard. His arm is draped around your middle, a comforting presence despite the gravity of what lies ahead. James sits to your right, his hand resting on your thigh, while Sirius occupies the foot of the bed.

There's no awkwardness in the way you all fit together. This closeness is as much a part of you as the magic coursing through your veins.

But tonight, there's a palpable tension threading through the comfort, a silent acknowledgment that the conversation soon to unfold might change everything.

Your kisses with the boys have grown more fervent, their touches lingering, over the past few weeks. It's in the way Sirius's hand brushes against your lower back, how James's eyes linger on your lips, and the subtle shift in Remus's gaze when you're close. Something has changed, deepened. You can feel it, a thrumming undercurrent of desire and longing that threatens to pull you under. And you know they feel it too.

But something holds you back, a nagging thought at the edge of your consciousness. It's not because you don't want this—Merlin, every fibre of your being yearns for them—but because of everything else.

You've played this conversation out in your head a hundred times before, but now it feels different, real. You can't avoid it any longer; you need to talk about it—with them. They deserve to know.

It's Sirius who breaks the silence first.

"So..." He leans forward, elbows braced against his knees. A ghost of a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, but it never reaches his eyes, clouded as they are with something akin to regret. "Seems we've all been skirting around the same issue, doesn't it?"

James, ever the pragmatist, quirks an eyebrow, his gaze steady and unyielding. "What Padfoot's trying to say is..." He pauses, choosing his words with care. "Perhaps it's time we addressed the fact that things are escalating."

His voice is light, almost conversational, but there's an undertone that speaks volumes. It's in the tight set of his shoulders, the way his fingers drum a silent tattoo against the his thigh. His eyes meet yours, reflecting both concern and conviction.

You feel Remus shift behind you, an almost imperceptible movement, yet so familiar that your body responds instinctively, leaning back into the warmth he offers.

"There's no need to rush into anything, love," he murmurs, his breath a soft caress against your ear. "We're here for you, whatever you decide."

A nod of understanding passes between you and Remus, and your eyes fall to your hands, picking at an imaginary loose thread on your jeans. "I know," you whisper, the words barely escaping your lips. "It's just..."

You trail off, gathering your thoughts as tension coils in the pit of your stomach. This is it—the tipping point that could either strengthen your bond or shatter the fragile peace you've found with each other. "I want to move forward with this—with all of you. But there are some things you need to understand about me first."

James leans forward, his brows knitting together in concern. "What do you mean, sweetheart?"

You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. Your fingers dance anxiously over the fabric of your jeans, seeking solace in the familiar rhythm. "Because of my medical issues—my conditions, the chronic pain—sex will be different for me."

Sirius, typically the embodiment of reckless abandon, stills at your words. His brow furrows, not in confusion, but in concentration, as if trying to decipher a particularly tricky piece of parchment. "Just tell us what you need," he says, his voice low and steady. "Whatever it is, we'll handle it. There's no pressure."

A wave of relief washes over you as Sirius's words, genuine and warm, ease some of the tension in your body. You glance at Remus, who gives your hand a comforting squeeze, before turning back to face James and Sirius.

"I've never been able to finish by myself," you confess, your cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "It feels like hitting a wall that you just can't get through." You swallow hard, forcing yourself to continue. "And I rarely get wet, even when I'm aroused, because of the medication I take."

The room falls into silence as they absorb your confession, but there's no judgment in their eyes, no hint of discomfort. Only love, concern, and a deep understanding that makes your heart ache with gratitude.

James reaches out to gently take your other hand, his fingers intertwining with yours in a show of support. "That's okay, love, we'll work it out. And if it never happens, that's fine too. We just want to be here with you, no matter what."

Remus is the next to speak, his voice steady despite the gravity of the conversation. "We can use lube. There are ways to make things easier for you. And we'll always check in, make sure you're comfortable."

You nod, appreciating his patience. "The thing is, physically... I should be able to have sex. Most positions shouldn't cause any problems in theory. But I've never... well, you know. So I can't say for certain how it'll feel in practice. And I don't know if the things I'm worried about will become bigger obstacles when faced with the reality of the situation."

He moves closer, not touching but present, a comforting solidity. "What are you worried about?"

You glance at him, feeling exposed yet compelled to continue. This isn't easy, laying bare your fears and vulnerabilities, but you know it's necessary. "The pain," you admit, your voice hardly above a whisper. "Sometimes it's so bad I can't even move, and I don't know how that would translate into... well, sex." You pause, your fingers absentmindedly twisting the hem of your shirt. "And then there's the worry that I won't... enjoy it as much as I could. That I might need to stop or that something will go wrong."

James's hand comes up to gently cradle your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. His voice is steady, a grounding force amidst the whirlwind of uncertainties. "We'll go as slow as you need," he assures you, thumb brushing tenderly against your skin. "The last thing we want is to hurt you. If you need to stop, we stop. No questions asked. You set the pace."

Sirius nods, his usual playful demeanour replaced by a seriousness that underscores the gravity of the situation. "And it's not just about sex," he adds, his grey eyes locking with yours, "it's about being close to you, sharing this part of ourselves with you. If some days we do more, and some days we do less, that's okay. As long as we're in it together."

Remus, ever the voice of reason, leans down and presses a soft kiss to your temple. "You've been open with us about everything so far, and that's all we ask. If something feels wrong, if something hurts, you just tell us. We'll figure it out together."

The knots in your shoulders start to unravel, the conversation not as daunting as you feared it might be. Their responses are everything you need—understanding, patient, loving.

"I don't want to disappoint you," you murmur, the words barely more than a breath.

James's arms encircle you then, pulling you into his chest. His hug is firm but gentle, as if he fears you'll shatter at any moment. "You could never disappoint us," he whispers back, lips brushing against your hair. "We love you, all of you. This isn't about reaching some finish line. It's about being here with you, whatever that looks like."

Sirius edges nearer, his fingers resting lightly on your knee, grounding you in their shared resolve. "And we're not the sort to leave a job half-done, are we?" His voice carries a playful note, attempting to cut through the tension that has woven itself into the air. "We'll figure it out, love."

A small smile tugs at the corners of your mouth, and you lean into them, warmed by their unwavering support. "I know."

Remus's hand moves in soothing circles on your arm, a steady rhythm amidst the storm of uncertainty. "It'll be a learning curve for us all," he admits, his gaze never leaving yours. "But we'll take it one step at a time. And we'll be here—every step of the way."

You study their expressions, finding only warmth and acceptance there, and something inside you unclenches. You'd been dreading this conversation, fearing it might create discomfort or distance, but instead, it seems to have drawn you closer.

"Thank you," you whisper, your voice thick with the emotion of the moment. "For understanding. For being... you."

James's smile is soft as he leans in to press a chaste kiss to your forehead. "No need for thanks. We're the lucky ones, having you."

Sirius shifts, lying down beside you, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your thigh. It's a comforting presence, grounding you when everything else feels like it's spinning out of control. "We'll figure out what works best for you, together. And believe me, we're going to make sure it feels good."

Remus catches your eye, his own so full of understanding that it's almost overwhelming. He leans in, pressing a gentle kiss to the curve of your shoulder. "You're safe with us," he murmurs against your skin, his breath warm and comforting. "We'll take care of you."

A smile tugs at the corners of your lips, warmth spreading through you. It's strange and wonderful, this sense of belonging that has blossomed between you and these three men.

James' gaze softens as he watches you, but there's a flicker of something else—curiosity, perhaps, or concern. "This might be a bit presumptuous," he begins, his tone cautious, "but have you thought about contraception? There's a potion for witches, and I know the Muggle world has options."

Your nod is slow, thoughtful. "I'm actually on a Muggle method. An implant. It's more reliable than potions or the pill, and easier to manage. I haven't had a period in... I can't even remember when, but it runs out in summer because it lasts three years."

A hint of a smile tugs at the corner of Sirius's mouth, his grey eyes sparkling with mischief. "That's certainly convenient," he murmurs, a lightness in his voice that attempts to lift the heaviness in the air. "One less thing to concern ourselves with."

His hand slides further up your thigh, and you can't help the sharp intake of breath as a jolt of electricity arcs between you both. Remus shoots Sirius a warning look—part admonishment, part protectiveness—but you merely laugh, feeling more liberated and accepted than ever before.

Remus returns his attention to you, his own hand finding yours atop the table. His thumb traces gentle circles on the back of your hand, each stroke a silent promise of understanding and patience. "We'll move at your pace, love," he assures you, and you hear the sincerity ringing clear and true in his voice. "Whatever you're comfortable with, whatever you need—we're here for you."

Your heart swells with gratitude for these three remarkable men who have somehow become an integral part of your life. The future remains uncertain, but one thing is clear: Whatever comes next, you'll face it together.

[coffee-kitty4090]

DC What if??

In this alternated universe, what if MAZAHS was a form William (Billy) Batson could be able to transform into?? Not just a form that belongs to Alexander (Lex) Luther from Earth Three. Who is that universe SHAZAM counterpart, all thanks to the Power of MAZAHS.

However, I’ll be twisting a few things to make this work.

Firstly, Billy Batson will still be able to transform into SHAZAM, but MAZAHS is a secondary transformation he can undergo. This allows Billy to possess two immensely powerful and distinct forms, and each is capable of tapping into different facets of power, either magically or godly. Only having to utter the magical word, either SHAZAM or MAZAHS, for their respective transformations.

Secondly, these forms were either gifted or forced upon to by the magical Wizard from a rock.

Originally in this universe, the Wizard was going to gift two people, one for each role. One of those chosen individuals will have the title and powers of SHAZAM, the Champion of the Gods (who are the same). Then the other chosen individual will have the title and powers of MAZAHS, the Champion of Magic.

However, the Wizard hadn’t much time left since he was already pretty old. So, he gave Billy both of the titles and powers, because one, Billy passed the test, and two, he couldn’t find another champion. Then like most mentors (if you want to call him that), the Wizard then shortly died after transferring the titles and responsibilities over to Billy, with a brief explanation for how they work.

Thirdly, I made it so that SHAZAM and MAZAHS are each other opposites (since their names are literally the same but backwards). I made them to be from the same coin, but each with their own side. Certain things about them are the same, yet they’re not, and have their own differences.

Fourthly, SHAZAM is fundamentally the same in this universe, both in appearance and personality wise, while I have changed MAZAHS entirely. Because it’s not Alexander Luther who is in this form, it’s Billy Batson.

As MAZAHS, Billy will retain his true appearance that, by magic, is in a way altered to be less recognizable. And because I can, the outfit is more child-like and arcane, reflecting his unparalleled command over magic. Yet, in this form is still similar to SHAZAM’s in terms of colours, and their iconic lighting symbol.

I also have it that SHAZAM embodies Billy’s ambitions, mirroring the qualities that he sees from his deceased father, CC Batson, as well as other heroes. SHAZAM brings forth a peaceful personality, aligning with Billy’s innate kindness and what he thinks a hero is and should be. On the flip side, MAZAHS represents the reverse. MAZAHS embodies Billy’s natural personality, complete with a mischievous nature. Like SHAZAM, MAZAHS is still Billy, but he displays and exudes a more feral and untamed demeanor, acting more like a trickster.

Fifthly, I think that their powers and skills have been divided, yet not.

I have it that SHAZAM does still possess proficiencies for using magic. They’re, however, not anywhere near the same level as MAZAHS, whose mastery over magic is unparalleled. Similarly, the same applies to MAZAHS, who also acquired and connected to the powers of the Gods, but not to the extent of SHAZAM.

I think of it being split around 20/80 in terms of how Magically or Godly their abilities and roles are.

Sixthly, I want and need miscommunication.

SHAZAM is known and written about in a lot of cultures in the DC universes, but now that there’s also a MAZAHS in this universe. I think that SHAZAM and MAZAHS would be confused as the same being and there, because when they were spoken or written about, their names are interchangeable.

It either because, neither of them would be around each other outside. Or because there have been many individuals that have been gifted those titles. It also plays in with that now they are the same being. So, that is where the title SHAZAM, the Champion of Magic, probably comes from.

Finally, I think that Billy would likely stick to only one form. He uses SHAZAM’s form the most (obviously), and only tends to use the MAZAHS form if it’s needed. Reserving it for situations that demand a different kind of and an immense magical prowess. Where SHAZAM cannot win with brute force.

It's mainly because he doesn't want to be seen and treated like a kid, or because SHAZAM and amazing muscles.

I haven't thought much about this idea, but I thinks a fun concept.

[glisten-inthedark]

You wanna know what gives me confidence for Byler? The show.

That's it.

Because I promise you, if you watch the show objectively everything is there. You don't even have to look at camera angles, lighting, or signs that point towards closets, the information you need is there.

And it isn't even shit people made up (****** I'm looking at you, even though I ship it). It's there, I fucking saw it before even shipping it.

And at first, I assumed I was seeing shit. To be honest I mostly brushed it off, but when we found out that Will was gay and in love with Mike, it clicked.

My favorite mental exercise is: If Will was a girl, how would you perceive their scenes? All you have to do it's switch up their genders and it's not even up for debate because we all know everyone would eat that shit up.

I mean, a boy relentlessly looks for a girl in the woods, stays by this girl' side, tells her they'll go crazy together while touching her hand, tells her that asking her to be his his friend was the best thing he's ever done, fights with her but actually tries to apologize, then we find that said girl has been in love with her friend but it's lying so that this friend could be happy. Tell me that if this was the case there wouldn't be like 30000 fics of that couple on Ao3 and millions of people begging the showrunners to make them canon? Tell me, I fucking dare you.

And at this point I'm like a broken record but I am going to repeat myself.

WILL BYERS BEING IN LOVE WITH MIKE WHEELER does not make a difference to the plot. It doesn't.

He could have been gay and not be in love. If the life lesson was: "Will has to learn to accept himself as gay, and to love himself and understand he isn't a mistake" they could've done without the love. They could've given him exploring that part of himself in California, they could've presented another gay character that taught him that.

They could've fixed El and Mike's relationship without Will's love. We've seen them doing it before. Will could've helped by just being Mike's friend.

So can we ask ourselves this itsy bitsy question: Why make Will in love with Mike in the first place? Why make him say not once, but twice, that he and Mike could play DnD together for the rest of their lives which, if you're not good at subtext, means he sees himself with Mike by his side as long as he lives if all they're going to do is bring him more misery?

Because I'm going to be honest, with the way they wrote this love Will has, they literally didn't gave themselves a easy way out. They made sure we knew it was real, it was unconditional and that it would never change. We didn't make it up, they gave us that information with their writing.

So again, ask yourselves why that is.

Because whatever non Byler explanation I try to come up with doesn't make sense.

Queerbaiting? More like Bylerbaiting at this point considering Will is gay and again, he could've been in love with anyone else or not be a queer character experiencing love at all.

Make Mil*even stronger? It literally did the opposite, the ship is going down in flames and we all know it. Their relationship isn't healthy, El's arc isn't about romantic love and the painting which was the only reason Mike proclaimed the romantic love he doesn't feel literally came from Will.

So... Again. Why?

[fuck-customers]

I love you I love you I love you I love you. I understand you are in constant pain. I understand recovery is not linear. I understand that some days you will not be as capable as others. and I am ok with that. I will never be upset because you are unable to help as much as before. there's no shame in that and I never want to make you feel bad about inhabiting your body. I know a body can be a difficult thing to have. but. if I come in to help. and you don't WARN ME about needing to put more effort into helping you move. it will actually physically hurt me. so I'm trained in how to help other bodies move, right. I could hypothetically get you into bed and/or into dry/clean clothes with you as dead-weight. I have done this before with people who are fully paralyzed (or heck I have given literal post-mortem care if you want to know what actual dead weight is like) but the way I hold MY WEIGHT and move my body CHANGES depending on how much weight I'm going to actually move. if I already know you. and I know that 90% of the time I can provide light support to help you roll to the wall so I can change your brief. I'm less likely to do things like: get the bed up to a height that lets me stand with my back straight (because it takes too long and there are literally 20 other people I have to help within the next 2 hours or I can be tried for neglect). and if I'm already bending down and expecting to just give you a push as you do most of the rolling, and then I realize (halfway through the roll) that you are not just not helping BUT ACTIVELY RESITING because you're in pain. it will ruin my back for the rest of the day if not the rest of the week. and there's no reason not to just tell me it's a day you need more help. That's a decent part of WHY I asked how your day was. yes, it's mostly because I'm polite and I genuinely care about how you feel, but ALSO it would be a great time for you to be like "Oh, actually my hip's really been bad, and everyone keeps making me roll on it". then I can change my approach, I can ask what exactly hurts and try to come up with a way to help avoid more pain. I'm not going to belittle or question or shame you for having an off day, I promise. I might even have a different technique that keeps you off your hip altogether. I want to help you. I'm not working this job because it's the easiest way to make money. I find genuine joy in being a part of your life and helping people in the way ive been trained. I enjoy your stories and insights. I consider you a "work" friend more than my actual co-workers. but this job is wearing on my body, and when you don't warn me about how much I'm going to need to use my body. I hurt myself AND I run the risk of hurting you more. please just let me know before, please.

Posted by admin Rodney

[vickyvicarious]

Quincey Morris said nothing about his intention, but I knew that all night long he patrolled round and round the house.

Joining the ranks of the blood- and sleep-deprived, Quincey Morris!

As always, I love the way he jumps right into taking action. He's reminded of vampire bats, he thinks the blood must go somewhere... so he patrols to keep an eye out for vampires, bats, people who are taking blood, whatever. Doing his best to guard her.

I do wonder about how much blood each man has given, though. It kind of feels like increasingly less, at least based on their activity levels afterward. Part of that may be due to circumstance; Arthur could afford to give more because he didn't have any urgent need to be doing anything else. Both Jack and Van Helsing had to be able to stay awake afterwards. And it's possible they are just getting more reckless with their own behavior as we go down the line. But still, Quincey being able to patrol around all night is a step up from resting first here and then at home (Art), resting for a while then going back to more sedentary work (Jack), resting for a bit then staying up at night sitting still (Van Helsing). He still gets some rest first, but then he is up and about and sleep-deprived. I don't feel like we can put all of that down to his manliness, royal lot of it or no.

A part of me wonders if Van Helsing saw that it wasn't going to be enough to save her, and cut off the flow a little earlier. Like, Quincey definitely still gave a lot, but maybe not as much as they'd otherwise have taken? Thinking of this line in particular: "Lucy had got a terrible shock and it told on her more than before, for though plenty of blood went into her veins, her body did not respond to the treatment as well as on the other occasions."

Perhaps Van Helsing just wanted to ensure that she didn't die right then of blood loss, because he believed that would mean she'd turn into a vampire. He's clearly doing his utmost to save her when he can, of course... but also, earlier that day, he told Jack ""If [death] were all, I would stop here where we are now, and let her fade away into peace, for I see no light in life over her horizon.""

So it's possible that at this point he expected her to die no matter what, and just took the minimum amount of blood to hopefully ensure it is a human death. The possibility that one type of death will lead to vampirisim and another will simply be a human death certainly could be supported in today's entry:

At times she slept, and both Van Helsing and I noticed the difference in her, between sleeping and waking. Whilst asleep she looked stronger, although more haggard, and her breathing was softer; her open mouth showed the pale gums drawn back from the teeth, which thus looked positively longer and sharper than usual; when she woke the softness of her eyes evidently changed the expression, for she looked her own self, although a dying one.

The difference seems to be between sleeping and waking here. But maybe that's only possible thanks to Quincey's blood in her. Or maybe it always would have been, but without Quincey's blood, she wouldn't have regained the strength necessary to wake up in the first place, let alone die awake/in a more human state.

[diyasgarden]

sleep 💕

Art is a light sleeper. This is canon adjacent too. Noises and movement will wake him up. You could get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom and he will wake up. He also shifts a lot in his sleep. Probably goes through 5-6 different positions each night. Sometimes he'll like to cuddle in his sleep but not always. He gets super warm during the night, so sometimes he will sleep on the edge of the bed with the blanket off to cool off. He has a strict sleep routine as an adult because of his career, but as a teen he'd go to sleep pretty late. It would depend on the day. Back then he never really thought about his sleep schedule. If he got enough sleep to not feel tired, than he was fine. And of course, he pretty much always wears those little panties to sleep...yeah x10.

Tashi is a still sleeper. Majority of the time she sleeps throughout the night in whatever position she went to bed in. At most she changes her position once. She isn't a heavy sleeper, but she isn't a light sleeper either. If you make a loud noise in the room she will wake up, but not if you walk around quietly. She also has pretty much always had a sleep schedule. Always sure to get at least eight hours of sleep. After her injury she was a sleep walker for some time. It was one of the ways her anxiety and sadness regarding her lost career manifested. Whenever you saw her do so, she'd really just walk over pick up her racket, and then just walk around. Eventually she'd walk back to bed with the racket in her hand. If she ever mentioned waking up with her racket next to her, you knew it was her way of saying she sleep walked again. As an adult, when she feels nervous or anxious, she is just unable to sleep. Sometimes to help you spoon her and softly ask what's wrong, and that usually works.

Patrick is a HEAVY sleeper. When he is out, he is dead to the world. You could make the loudest noises and he would only shift around a bit. He also takes up so much space on the bed. You love laying down with him but does he really have to be sprawled out like that? He gets cold easily when he sleeps so he pulls the blanket a lot (you guys end up choosing to have two sperate blankets for this reason). Not to mention, regardless of how he sleeps he always ends up in a position that allows him to cuddle you. If you wake up before to Patrick, you're just going to have to lay there for some time or find some way to wiggle out because he is holding you close and probably has a leg draped over you too.

[mysteryanimator]

ANIMATION BREAKDOWN PROCESS OF THIS LETS GO (Sorry for any grammatical errors!)

SCRIPT/STORYBOARD: (you can watch here)

Now THIS. The script was very weak because I wanted to board immediately, so it started strong then fell off at the end (also generally I'm not a stronger writer, which haha fics my beloved). Now I know this, spending more time simmering with the script will genuinely only 1) stronger compositions for storyboards 2) it will be so much faster to board. Like I can board fast, but I can board fast AND well if I sit with the idea a bit longer. This will be a massive running theme how I like my shots earlier rather than further in.

side note I LIKE PANEL 11 A LOT, I just feeI didn't translate it well enough into animation which sucks because its a pretty panel and you get a softer moment from Olrox which I found was important to get across.

Also at some point, the 180 rule (which keeps characters on like one line behind the camera... not sure if I worded that right) gets broken and it bugged me for AGES but decided I had to just move on LOL.

These are my thumbnails b4 I go to animatic/cleaned storyboards which are SO MESSY (I'm a lot better at annotating my thumbs now LOL). The original prompt was top service blood bag x powerbottom vampire and i don't think i portrayed that well enough throughout BUT i think the intro did a good establishment. Which fun fact, this was scrapped but there was actually 20 seconds of Mizrak eyeing Olrox "What is it like? Blood?" Then Olrox leans down and commences the thigh glide.

These backgrounds are a mix of texture-bashing (walls/floors) along with some good ol' painting materials from scratch. Also, these are olddd and I can do a lot better yay, but was a good test to see how to make a consistent-ish scene.

ANIMATION: (You can watch the rough anim here)

I'll be super upfront how I don't like most of it AHHA. From starting this in July to posting this in September, I've improved a lot since then.

Since this was a bit ago, I don't remember too much but I remember going ham onto learning material from Dong Chang and animation servers. However in all honesty I think this was only really applied to the earlier shots. I got super frustrated with my "slow speed" so I tried to jump ship and do cleans super early on, which like lets be honest- pumping out two rough anims a day with uni on top is not slow idk what I was on about. This ended up giving me MORE work during the line/colour stage PFFT because I would end up correcting my mistakes in my roughs. Like Myst stop, this is for fun and you're learning, please take it easy LOLOL.

COMPOSITING:

Working on compositing this time around was slightly different, and I'll also admit it is not my favorite composite I've done (and again, I like my earlier shots then my later shots). My after-effects layers looked insane keeping track of the highlight glows on their clothes BUT it definitely paid off. Skin tones however were SO DIFFICULT (mostly in part to the fact I decided to experiment with how I approached it, so it definitely skewed how I worked with this)

I also definitely struggled between the dreamy look and keeping it clean and crisp, and while the dreamy blurred aesthetic does work in some cases, I opted out for the sake of clarity.

Beloved edge light my friend. It's making me learn SUPER late into it how I probably should have planned out a third shadow pass since edge light at the point is a crutch and I think planning it out ahead would get nicer more precise shadows LOL.

Because I brain rotted so hard for this animation I actually commissioned two people to help me work on this! I'll briefly talk about their stuff but please check out their work!

MUSIC: Astralbardkeep

Due the fact I don't have voiceactors, and I had a very specific vision in mind, I decided to go "you know what, let me be super self-indulgent". I had a lot of notes and inspirations for the music, BUT i wanted to have Olrox's theme from the original games peek through, which you will notice happens at the bite AND at the end.

TITLE CARD: Hataui0

This might've seemed overkill, but this friend of mine is very talented at making graphics/typography to suit the requirements of each individual project. (Also a secret ploy to make him make nocturne fanart /lh). So that entire end bit, he illustrated it along with that title, in which the themes I bestowed him were Mucha and Gothic art.

Thank you for reading if you got this far! Suffice to say this was supposed to be a compare and contrast between the animation I did in February, and while I may not quite find this body of work up to my normal standards, it substantial amount of improvement, which is the most important thing here! With the ten billion other things in my life going on, I can only be happy with the progress thus far :D

February on the left/September on the right

[itsnotbird]

Orphic ~ File 1

Orphic (adj.); mysterious and entrancing beyond ordinary understanding

Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader

Non-Canon

Summary: The last thing he needs is for his mundane life to get more complicated when something- you -seemingly fall out of the sky and change everything.

Warning: Grumpy Bucky, language, talks of powers

“You need to start putting yourself out there.”

She had no clue what she was talking about. Weeks and weeks of going to sessions and Bucky was still convinced that Dr. Raynor was crazy.

He disects her former statement, like he’s done ever since she said it, and he makes his way down the street.

Usually, he’d be on his way to his apartment, the one that he moved in to after he started this whole ‘healing journey’ thing. Dr. Raynor suggested it, she suggests everything in his life now it seems. And because he is mandated to attend the therapy sessions, he does the bare minimum just to please her. That’s why he has an almost empty apartment, away from the upstate Avengers compound. Tonight though, he has someone to meet up with.

In the sushi bar, he greets the old man that has become somewhat of a friend to him. Yori orders the same thing he always does, then asks Bucky if he’s ever going to ask the pretty waitress out or if he’s still scared.

Bucky sighs. “Always so hard on me.” He jokes.

The man chuckles. “You’re wasting time, you’ll understand when you get old like me.”

Bucky smiles. “Technically, I’m older than you but that’s a different conversation.”

And the two bicker back and forth in a light hearted manner until Bucky pays for the meal and they leave the restaurant.

“I’m taking the long way back.” Bucky says to the man. “You alright to get home?”

Yori grumbles and waves him off. “Don’t worry about me.” He says, complaining that Bucky was over bearing.

Chuckling to himself, Bucky cuts down an alley and takes the long way back to his apartment. Fresh rain starts to hit the pavement so he tends to stick to the sidewalk that is covered by awnings. The mist gets caught in the street lights, making everything have a certain glow. There’s only a bit of chatter from shop owners closing up, but it’s rather deserted as he goes.

In his pocket, his phone rings. He knows it’s Steve, he chooses to ignore it as he gets caught in his thoughts. In truth, he’s been avoiding everyone’s calls. If his shrink knew, she’d scold him and tell him he’s self sabotaging again. That’s why he doesn’t tell her.

The rain comes down harder now, it hits the black street and splashes onto his boots that lay against the sidewalk.

Some sort of eery feeling chills his spine. Looking over his shoulder, he scans the buildings around him, looks at windows and in the air. Continuing to walk as he searches for potential threats, he turns the corner.

His gaze flicks down.

Feet away from him, there’s a shape in the street.

It isn’t fully illuminated, just a collapsed form.

He proceeds further with caution until he can make out what his eyes see.

You lay there on your side, soaked to the bone.

“Shit.” He exclaims, rushing into the heavy drizzle.

There’s no one around, no cars, no sign of why you’re there. On his knees now, he rolls your limp form over, laying you on your back.

“Can you hear me? Wake up.” He gently shakes you.

Scanning your body for any visible injuries, he finds none. His two fingers pressed to your neck, he feels the very faint thump of your pulse.

More panicked now, he calls out, trying to get your eyes to snap open.

Were you hit by a car?

Did you have internal injuries?

He gently cradles the back of your head with one hand, and the other peels an eyelid open, hoping to check how dilated your pupils are. Your thick lashes separate, what greets him isn’t a sign of a concussion, it’s the bright glow of blue, something abnormal that scares him.

“Jesus!” He gasps and pulls back swiftly, seeing the almost un-human eye looking at him.

Your eyes shut again, he picks up the arm that rested on your stomach and the bundle of veins in your wrist are the same strobing glow of blue.

This was something different than a pedestrian crisis.

He scans the area carefully once more, making sure there are no onlookers as he decides what to do next.

He should call an ambulance.

But this isn’t a civilian medical issue, it seems.

Gently, he scoops your frame into his arms.

Both completely drenched now, he carries you back to his dry apartment. The whole time, he’s cursing himself. This is going to be a mess, he just knew it would. Maybe he should drop you off in front of a fire department and leave it at that?

He doesn’t. Of course he doesn’t.

Instead, he manages to get you inside without raising any suspicion.

He lays you on the kitchen counter, not caring about the puddles of water the two of you have made on the floor.

The heels of his palms dig into his eyes and he groans.

This was so stupid.

So, so, stupid.

Looking down at the screen of his cellphone, he debates just who to call. Steve can’t keep a secret, Tony was a definite no.

Sam Wilson.

Bucky huffs, then places the call. Maybe he can just pin this issue onto him and move on with life? Yeah, that was a good idea.

He’s very vague when Sam answers.

“There’s something you need to see, it might be important.”

Sam groans. “Oh, great. I got scared you accidentally made me your booty call.” He says with dry sarcasm.

“A what?” Bucky asks in confusion.

“Nothing, the joke’s only funny if you’re competent.” Sam states. “I’ll be over in ten minutes.”

And just like that, Bucky’s left in silence.

He watches you with a cocked head, curious. You don’t move, your chest barely rises and falls as you take shallow breaths.

Once he’s sure you’re not going to move, he changed out of his soaked clothes and grabs a towel. Coming back to you, he cautiously dries your face, staring down at you, seeing if you flinch at all. Softly, he reaches for your hand that dangles off the counter.

As his fingers make contact with your palm, a jolt of what feels like electricity shoots through him. He teeth grit and he lets out a strangled shout, he can pin point every nerve that gets shot.

He jerks himself away, panting hard as he shakes for a moment.

“Well, you have a defense mechanism.” He says to you.

A knock comes from the door.

“I swear, don’t be wasting my time, Barnes.” Sam warns right as the door is opened, letting him into the space.

“Would you stop being a pain before I regret calling you?” Bucky snaps, shutting the door.

“Care to show me why you called me? I paused Law&Order for this shit.”

Pushing past the urge to make fun of him, Bucky just wordlessly points to the kitchen.

It takes entirely too long for Sam to go in and notice, but when he does, he isn’t calm about it.

“What the hell?!” He shouts. “Who is this?”

Bucky shrugs. “No clue.”

“No clue? Where’d you find her? Why is she here? …Did you kill her?”

He shoots Sam a sharp look. “No! I didn’t kill her, she’s alive, asshat. I found her in the street, unconscious.”

The man turns from your body to look at Bucky.

“So you just…kidnapped her? Didn’t call the authorities or anything, just took her?” He asks, face etched with disbelief.

Once again, Bucky shrugs. “Finders keepers.”

“Finders keepers!? Bucky you can’t just-”

Fed up with his talking, he strides forward, grabbing your relaxed wrist and showing the discovery to him.

“That look normal to you?” He ask with an angry tone. Sam pauses at the power running through your veins.

“Or this?” Bucky continues. He opens your eyes, revealing the strobe blue that glows wildly, masking your vision.

“…Okay that’s a little strange.” Sam admits, now curious. He scans you with his eyes. “Any idea where she came from?”

Bucky shakes his head. “No one was around, no cars or anything. It’s like she just appeared.”

Cautiously, he feels your pulse just like Bucky had done, then reaches for your hand out of some impulse to comfort.

“Hey don’t-”

Bucky’s words are stopped by the strangled groan that Sam lets rip from his throat. He drops your hand and hot power courses through him.

“I tried to tell you.” Bucky sighs.

As Sam tries to pull himself together, shaking his hands out. “Yeah, that’s not normal.”

“And this is why I called you.” Bucky says.

After a moment of processing, Sam speaks. “We have to take her into the compound.”

“Stark’s gonna be pissed if we bring a strange woman into the compound while everyone is asleep.” Bucky expresses, watching as Sam looks through his kitchen drawers.

“We need to figure out what’s wrong with her. The MedBay is where she needs to be.” He says, finding a pair of oven mitts that Bucky wasn’t aware he had.

Sam carefully slides them onto your hands, then grabs a roll of duct tape and tapes them securely around your wrists, assuring they don’t come off. He nods at his work, happy at his genius idea and then turns to Bucky with a smile. He motions to you with a ‘huh, you like?’ expression, expecting praise.

All he gets is a blank stare.

“Okay, super soldier, grab her and let’s go.” Sam says in a disappointed tone.

There was no reason to argue, so with a sigh, Bucky picks you up once more and lays you over his shoulder. Your wet hair hangs and sways as he leaves the apartment, following Sam to the parking garage where his car was. Like a rag doll, you’re easily laid in the back seat. Sam makes sure your feet aren’t caught as he shuts the door.

The ride over was mostly silent, and in the rearview mirror, Bucky stares at your limp frame.

“Which of the big three do you think she is?” Sam asks, breaking up the silence.

“The what?” Bucky finally looks away.

“You know, the big three. Androids, aliens and wizards…it’s what we always end up fighting.” He explains like it was just a common thing to say.

Bucky pinches the bridge of his nose. “God, I hate when you talk.”

Sam glares. “Oh I’m sorry, I forgot I was just supposed to drive in awkward silence while there’s an unconscious girl in my backseat. You called me to help and I’m not allowed to ask questions?” He says with a raised tone, aggravating Bucky.

“Why ask me the questions? I don’t know what she is- something obviously serious enough to electrocute us.” He states, looking out the rainy window.

Sam grumbles. “She might be all three.” He says more to himself.

“How can she be an android and an alien?” Bucky questions.

“It’s possible!”

The two argue about the possibility, that’s before Sam hits his breaks at a red light and your body rolls off the seat and onto the floor. It makes a thud sound, causing them both to look back.

“Great, now you gave her head trauma.” Bucky throws his hands up.

- - - -

They thought that sneaking into the compound would be easy, given that they have unlimited clearance. But as they enter the silent environment, you still laid over Bucky’s shoulder, they space the fact that the entire compound is run by an AI who’s far too smart.

“Welcome, Mr. Wilson and Mr. Barnes.” FRIDAY greets as they sneak into the MedBay.

They jump at the voice.

“Should I wake Mr. Stark?” It asks, making them both protest and claim that wasn’t necessary.

Bucky lays you on the medical bed.

“It appears there is a guest without clearance to be in here, this is a serious security breach.” FRIDAY continues.

“No, we give her permission.” Sam says, going to strap you down, just in case.

“I’m afraid Mr. Stark can only give permission. I will wake him.”

“No! Don’t wake him.” Bucky grunts, wheeling a monitor over. “Do. Not. Wake. Him.”

The two of them do their best to hook you up to it, but eventually they get confused about wires and what goes where.

“We can’t clip it to her finger, she has mitts on for a reason.” Sam says, attaching wires to all the wrong places.

The MedBay doors slide open, making them jump away from you. An angry looking Tony walks in. Robe and slippers, he’s obviously been stirred moments before.

“I’m only going to ask you idiots this one time, so don’t waste your chance. Why is FRIDAY telling me there’s unauthorized personnel in my building?” He asks, stopping in his tracks as he sees you. Immediately, his face changes into one of confusion and curiosity, he approaches you with an almost unsure pace. His eyes soften, seeing your cold skin and wet clothes.

“Barnes, start talking.” He says, coming to undo all the mistakes that were previously done and correctly hooking you up to the machine.

“Why do you assume it’s my fault?” He says, defensively.

“Because it usually is, now start talking.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hi! Welcome to part one of the series! Stick around for more.

File 2

~ Eve