#honor for many centuries to come

[astarionspocketpussy]

Thought too hard about how I name Tieflings and started considering the role of "common" in DND and how different real life languages might fit in that framework. Needless to say now I want to write an essay but alas. Its midnight.

[plutoswritingplanet]

It's A Special Death You Saved (Feyd Rautha Harkonnen x Female!Reader) pt.1

a/n: i had a "no bald men" rule before he licked a knife... so y'all know my priorities are in order. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (as per usual), Arranged Marriage, Reader is an Atreides (it's just such a good prompt i couldn't help myself),

Summary: A month-long engagement to the na-Baron Harkonnen makes you question, whether a marriage can bloom on the grounds of hate. Loosely based on "Special Death" by Mirah.

Pt.2, Pt.3 Pt.4 (finale)

The message comes from the Emperor himself. An indisputable order that renders your Father speechless. You've never seen him quite as distraught, as when he has visited you in your chambers to deliver the news. Hands fidgeting, eyes refusing to meet yours, heavy shadows falling across his face. He seems to expect your reaction, not giving you as much as a flinch, when you scream your protests at him. And he should've expected as much, you were always the more impulsive of Duke Leto's children. 

- But the Harkonnens are beasts - you argue, voice breaking - You've said it yourself, many times.

- Actually, I think that was Gurney...

- You've never denied it!

And he doesn't deny it now, head hung low. Never, not once in your life, have you seen your Father give up. Until today. 

Your Mother enters just a few seconds after him, her dress flowing around her ankles as if she had floated in on a cloud. She stands to the side of your bed, hands folded, and an impassive expression embedded onto her features. And the more she speaks of the centuries of breeding, the importance of an union and the powers beyond your understanding, the less you see of your mother. What stands before you, instead, is a Bene Gesserit sister, veiled in schemes and dark plans, which were in the making before you were even born. You curse yourself for not noticing this stranger sooner, and storm off, out of your room, your shawl blowing out behind you like bat wings.

Paul doesn't visit you, but you can hear him, even through the effort of swallowing down your tears. He fights for you against your Father. He would fight for you against the whole Empire if he had to, and your heart swells, as he throws a particularly nasty curse into the air of your Father's study. It doesn't change anything. According to the decree of the Emperror, the oldest daughter of the Duke Leto Atreides will marry Feyd Rautha, an heir to the Baron Harkonnen. A centuries long dispute is about to be put to an end, and all thanks to the small sacrifice, which is your life. All would be well in the galaxy. Really, you should be honored, to be tasked with such a monumental peace treaty.

Everyone in the court seems to know about your situation. Mournful looks follow you, as you walk into the training barracks, ridding yourself of layers upon layers of flowing fabrics, leaving you in a rather tight costume, light enough to beat your frustrations out on someone.

Duncan Idaho meets your searching eyes, and you know he is aware as well. All it takes is one inclination of your chin, and he's up on his feet, sword in hand. Loyal as ever, he stands in front of you, watches with mixed feelings as you enable your shield, no questions asked. None needed. 

He barely has time to put his defenses up, when you charge at him, fury and despair pushing your movements into stances which are clumsy and ill though out. Still, there's power within your strikes, a strength of someone who needs to move, unless they break. So he lets you, for a couple of minutes. He dodges your attacks, pairing some of them, never moving quite into the offense.

The rest of the soldiers scurry off somewhere, for which you will be thankful in the future. They might hear your cries of anger, but they will not see you break. They will not see the way your blade smashes into Duncan's shield over and over again, with no regard for the slow attacks, which would penetrate it. Likewise, they don't see your sparring partner fall to his knees and swipe you off your feet in a split-second movement, making you hit the floor with a frustrated snarl. And they don't see you finally give up, and cry, hugging your blade to your chest, the severity of your circumstance falling onto you, crushing you down.

- Never fight in anger, Princess - Duncan reminds you, voice cautious, and you growl at him like a wild animal - It dulls your instincts, makes you distracted.

- Did you know? - you demand, your sharp voice cutting through his half-assed lecture.

For a moment he looks truly remorseful. His eyes float around the room, and your heart sinks when he sighs deeply.

- I found out not long ago - he confesses - Your Father told me. 

Your blade slides against the floor as you throw it, a raw scream tearing through your throat. Duncan takes a step towards you, hand extended towards your shaking form. But, before he can attempt to touch you, you're up, rolling your shoulders forcefully. Tears stain your cheeks, and you wipe them roughly with the back of your hand, skin becoming irritated almost instantly. There are swords laid out on a small table, just beside you,  your fingers grip the cold handle so hard, your knuckles seem to creak under the pressure. Duncan readies himself as well, dusting off his trousers. 

He's not good at comforting, but he's the best at fighting, and if that's what you need in this cold morning, he'll oblige. 

- You'll make it through, you know - he says, his voice genuine, and you laugh without any mirth.

Your blades clash, faces coming closer as you absentmindedly notice small scars adorning his cheeks.

- You can adapt to anything - you strike against his shoulder, the shield pushes your blade away - We could send you to Arrakis right now, and a week later you'd be riding a damned Sandworm into battle.

To that, you laugh, this time your smile reaching your eyes. The idea is preposterous, but it renders your footsteps lighter, and you twist to dodge a nasty blow to the right arm. Duncan huffs a laugh as well, as you slip through his fingers. He points his blade in your direction, a smirk playing across his lips, and you bare your teeth in a playful display of wildness.

- Careful, Princess, you might scare your betrothed away - Duncan teases, as you roll your dagger in your hand.

- Scare a damned Harkonnen? Do you find me that intimidating? - the idea thrills you just a little bit, you're woman enough to admit it.

- I think you're fucking terrifying.

- Duncan Idaho, you better not be swearing at my Daughter.

Your face falls immediately, as your Father approaches the two of you, shooting Duncan a stern gaze which holds no real threat. Still, your sparring partner raises his hands, his blade tucked away safely into his belt. There's sweat clinging to your skin from all the training, mingling with drying tears on your cheeks, and Duke Leto tries very hard not to comment on your choice of processing recent events. Still, he nods at you, and like a good daughter, you put your blade away, walking from the barracks after him. 

***

The Emperor has called for a traditional, Atreides engagement. A mercy, which you're eternally grateful for. You're not too aware of Harkonnen customs regarding marriage, but given the House's reputation, it couldn't have been pleasant. House Atreides however, took to such matters much more ceremonially, old-fashioned to some. 

Soon, a ship is arriving, with your betrothed onboard, and a month-long courting period willcommence. After that, official engagement and soon after, a wedding. Then, you will be transported back on Geidis Prime, where a life of misery awaits. That's all the time you have. A month.  

The dress, which was picked out for you, is uncomfortable and shows both too much and too little skin at the same time. While your legs are bare and exposed to an almost scandalous degree, a high, stiff collar nearly chokes the life out of you. This whole getup was the idea of your mother, as an attempt to highlight your best features and hide all that might be considered less desirable. 

You have no idea what's wrong with your neck. Perhaps, by cutting off your airflow, your mother aimed to keep you docile. 

She frowns deeply as you tug on the fabric, nerves climbing up your spine, growing more desperate every second. She swats at your hand, and you throw her a look. Out of the corner of your eye Paul smiles at your antics, your only consolation in this hopeless place. 

- Stop fidgeting, you'll tear the dress - Lady Jessica scolds you, and you can sense actual worry underlining her stern voice.

The Harkonnen ship slowly glides into the atmosphere of your home planet, a black, awful thing. Like all things on Geidis Prime, dark and miserable. Soon, you'll join them, adorned in equally black and lifeless clothing, never to see your family again. Never to see the Ocean. Your nails bite into the collar of the dress, you can hear a stitch tear.

- Stop that.

Your hands fall uselessly against your body, as your mother uses the Voice on you. Wouldn't be the first time, you were quite the unruly daughter and Lady Jessica was determined to make a Lady out of you no matter the means. Still, this time, the unnatural tone feels more like a panicked plea,  than a light-hearted scolding. 

- Relax Mother - your voice is sharp, despite the slight tremble - In a months time I'll be gone from here forever, stuck in some blackened cell, wistfully sighing "ooh" "aah".

You place your hand on your forehead in a dramatic display of doubtful acting abilities. When you were younger, your mother would laugh at you, as you enacted scenes from romance books. You would throw yourself at a nearby piece of furniture, pretending to be some wronged lover, or an unhappy bride waiting for someone to liberate her. And your mother would clap her hands, thoroughly entertained.

Today however, she doesn't even crack a smile.

- I don't expect you to be happy about all this - she whispers - But I do expect you to wear your grief with some grace.

A slap would've been kinder, you think, and stare ahead, as the Harkonnen ship opens, and a group of people dressed in black spill out of it like ants from a drowning anthill. Your heart is thrumming hard in your chest, and your hand reaches out, despite all your apprehension, towards your mother. A force of habit, to search consolation within her disregarding the fact, that it was her meddling that put you here. 

Her fingers lace with yours, thumb stroking your palm in an attempt to soothe you. 

Immediately, you know which one of the bald headed Harkonnen is your betrothed. 

He's much taller than you, an imposing figure even despite his rather lean built. His skin is almost completely white, as expected, his teeth are blackened out, as expected as well, and his eyes are bearing into you with an intensity so oppressing, you almost look away. Almost. 

- I present to you, Feyd Rautha, the na-Baron of House Harkonnen. 

The pale man steps forward, releasing you from his gaze for only just a moment, to trade pleasantries with your Father, who looks beyond miserable as he fixes your soon-to-be husband with a tired look. Then, Feyd Rautha is brought before you.

There's grace to his movements you did not expect, as he pushes his black cloak aside, and kneels in front of you. Harkonnen were known for their bulky ruthlessness, but this one... This one reminded you of a panther, the way his eyes travelled the length of your body, full lips pulling upward into a barely noticable smirk. 

Customs, you remind yourself, as your mother's hand squeezes your fingers. You don't want to let her go, but you do, slowly, with so many mixed thoughts rattling around your brain, it makes your head swim. 

Feyd Rautha grabs your extended hand in such a gentle manner, you're almost convinced the Harkonnens have shaved some poor bastard and dropped him off instead of the real na-Baron. Then, he lifts your palm up, until his lips press against your fingertips, a gesture so tender, your heart does a flip in your chest. And then, it stops all together, when his grip on your palm tightens, and he pulls your hand closer, to kiss it properly. As if he can't help himself, he looks up at you, and you realize. 

You almost got yourself caught, but reading people's intentions have been taught to you as fervently as reading texts, and you can see right through this facade of chivalry. There's darkness in this man, a swirling void, which brings a wave of cold fear upon you. This cunning, depraved creature will soon enough become your husband, and you'll be stuck with him forever. How long will he keep up this impeccable appearence? Was this performence for you, your Father, his own twisted fun, or all the things combined?

With a furrowed brow, you tear your hand out of his grasp, a full body shiver running up your spine at the sight of his self-satisfied smirk. He drinks up your reactions like a man parched, and you fight hard to put on a mask of indifference, as he rises from his knees to stand before you in all his imposing glory.

***

You can feel his eyes follow you, as the welcome committee retreats into the Palace. He doesn't let you out of his sight throughout the feast, which takes place immediately after his arrival, and even now, as he gets ready to "entertain" the court by indulging in some barbaric ceremony of his, his eyes are trained only on you. 

It's uncomfortable, to say the least, having him stare at you, while you sit surrounded by your family, who, for the most part, say nothing. Except Paul. Your dear baby brother, your protector in all this madness. As Feyd Rautha throws his coat to the side, showing off his (admittedly impressive) muscles, Paul leans towards you.

- He looks like a hard boiled egg, don't you think sister? - he whispers and subsequently ends your vow of silence. 

The giggle you let out is caught quickly by everyone around, your betrothed included, before you press an open palm against your lips. 

- Behave - your mother warns, and you try, you really do.

But in the serene light of the fading sun, your soon-to-be husband's head does look frighteningly egg-ish. God, you'll get yourself killed, before the wedding ceremony is even resolved if you keep this up.

You're seated high in an outdoor theater. One of your grandfather's favorite places, where he used to dance with bulls for sport. Where he met his demise.

Feyd Rautha presents his knives to you and your family, their blades glint ominously in the setting sun. Again, you are struck with the sheer grace this man exudes. His movements, despite being forceful and wild, have a beauty to them, as if he was rehearsing ancient dance moves, rather than killing blows.

And, despite your brother's earlier comment, there is something enticing in the way his pale skin catches the rays of bleeding sunshine, slowly creeping towards the horizon. He's almost beautiful, almost handsome enough to consider. 

The thought leaves your head almost immediately, as the Harkonnen servants bring in his apparent opponent. Your heart drops to your stomach at the sight of a beaten, dark skinned warrior. Immediately you recognize a Fremen, you've read so much about them in your free time. You know how they filter water, what they eat, how they move through the sands, and despite your knowledge you can't fathom, why this poor man has been brought here. 

At your side, Paul shifts in his seat, all jokes leaving him in a hurry. The both of you watch, as the man you're promised to toys with a clearly drugged victim. Slashes bloom on the prisoners skin, blood sprays in the air. You refuse to look away, to show such weakness, even as Feyd Rautha grabs the poor man by his hair and with a forceful push impales his throat on the blade. Blood pours down onto the sand, paints the Harkonnen's face and chest a deep shade of red.

It's a brutal display of power, of cruelty and wildness the Harkonnens are known for. Suddenly, everything Gurney has warned you about, while training your fighting skills, rings like a thousand of bells in your ears. This is who you will marry, who you will spend your entire life with. 

You swallow down an urge to throw up, and stand up from your seat. 

The show must go on, you think, throwing your Mother one, venomous look, trying to force her to understand your pain. Then, you lock eyes with your betrothed, who watches you from below with a cruel smile, blackened teeth on full display. You meant to congratulate him, to play the part as instructed, but you can do nothing of the sort. Instead, you stare back at him, disgust flowing from your features like a broken faucet. 

Lady Jessica opens her mouth, but before she can, without a doubt, scold you again, you're out of the seating area, your footsteps echoing in the halls. 

Once you're sufficiently tucked away from prying eyes, your back hits the wall, and you allow yourself feel the luxury of unbridled panic. Your breathing comes out in fast, shallow pants, as cold sweat forms on your forehead. Thoughts racing, your fingers tangle into your hair, tugging at the roots. This is your future, the only future waiting for you, and it's filled wth pain and blood.

- Have you enjoyed the fight, my Lady? - you immediately know it's him, despite not hearing him speak before.

A gasp of surprise leaves you before you can catch it, and your back straightens almost painfully fast. 

There he stands, tall and lean, and terrifying. Blood still decorates his torso creating a contrast that is both terrifying and hypnotizing. He watches you, curiosity and humor swirling behind his eyes. You can't decide whether they are completely blackened out, or if they hold a blue, almost serene hue. 

- No - you answer, finding your voice entirely too shaky for your liking - I did not enjoy it.

He laughs, a guttural, low sound that makes the hair stand at the back of your neck. You know he wouldn't dare try anything here, right under your Father's nose while the engagement is still in the making. Yet, as you stand frozen, just you, him and the marble walls around you, dread finds home in the pit of your stomach.

- Was that man Fremen? - you ask, partially to fill the silence, partially because you're genuinely curious.

The man shrugs, you can see muscles moving under his white skin. He takes a step towards you and you will yourself not to run.

- Sometimes we bring a couple of captured desert rats home - he explains with a nonchalant tone - Mostly for entertainment.

The almost bored intonation he uses to describe this barbaric ritual makes something boil deep inside you. 

- That's cruel - you counter, emotions flowing freely onto your face, much to the man's delight - To deny those men the honor of dying on their home planet. To drag them into a completely foreign place, just to kill them for sport, like some animals... It's...

- Some of them live - he cuts you off, taking another couple of steps towards you, but in your growing outrage, you barely notice - Our brothels are filled with Fremen whores.

Your face twist into an expression of utter repulsion, and Feyd Rautha raises his eyebrows in a pathetic mask of confusion, almost childlike giddiness lighting up his eyes as he looks down at you.

- Oh, don't give me that look, my Lady. - he cooes, and you've never felt a stronger urge to slap the daylights out of someone - I know for a fact there are brothels on your planet filled with hungry soldiers.

- Yes - you bark back at him - but the people there are working prostitutes, not slaves!

He shrugs, looking somewhere to the side of your face.

- A waste of money, if you'd ask me.

- Good thing no one has - there's venom in your voice, and your betrothed sucks a breath through his teeth.

You curse yourself for leaving your dagger, for not concealing it somewhere in this ridiculous dress, because the way the Harkonnen's expression shifts freezes blood right in your veins. 

He looks at you, amusement tugging at the corners of his lips, while something much darker lurks in his eyes. His bloodied hand comes up, finger making contact with the exposed skin of your shoulder. You can feel the thick liquid stick to your flesh, as he drags his hand down, painting you, marking you.

- You're quite the little viper, my Lady.

Watching him silently, you don't respond. Don't know how to, when he closes the distance between your bodies enough to make you feel the heat radiating off of his chest, while the smell of blood and sweat completely assaults your senses. It's sickening, the way he looks at you, like you're a new toy, just waiting to be unpacked and destroyed by too eager hands. 

- My Uncle, the Baron, has instructed me, to be the utmost gentleman to you. To woo you completely - his voice is low, barely above a whisper, as he grins down at you - But I just can't lie to my future wife like that, can I?

He leans closer and finally, you take a step back, sliding out of his space, assessing a cautious stance. His hand almost follows you, the skin of your shoulder feels conflictingly cold without him.

- Once we're wed, I will possess you completely - this time you stand your ground, as he approaches, circling you like a lion stalking it's prey - And then...

He leans down beside you, shoulder to your shoulder, close enough for you to feel his hot breath graze your ear.

- Like the bull that took your grandfather's life, I shall pierce you.

The violent innuendo doesn't slip past you, and with hatred brewing behind your eyes, you look straight at him, forcing your fear to lay dormant. 

- You're disgusting.

- And you're blushing like a lovely, virgin bride should - he concludes, sending an awful wink your way, before withdrawing from you completely. 

Your veins burn hot, as you watch him leave, a selfish confidence painting his steps, and you beg every God in existence to grant you a sword in your hand. Or a dagger. A kitchen knife would do as well. Anything, that would help you cut this unbeatable, patronizing, infuriatingly handsome smirk from Feyd Rauthas face.

Alas, you're left with nothing, only a small glimmer of hope dangling in front of you, after your damned betrothed's words fully register in your brain.

A bride you might be, but certainly not a virgin one. Duncan Idaho made sure of that many years ago. The thought makes you smile, despite nerves wreaking havoc in your body. At least that's the one thing Feyd Rautha won't be able to take from you.

[mingtinys]

lost for words

pairing : lee jihoon x gn!reader

fluff , drabble , ultimate simp jihoon

warnings : none

word count : 0.6 k

requested ? no

a/n : this is what i imagine it would sound like if woozi wrote his own "shall i compare thee to a summers day"

Jihoon is nothing short of talented. A maestro amongst artists and a musical prodigy to his peers.

He can pluck strings until they sing and make his fingertips fly across piano keys in a way that makes them melt together into a symphony. He can breathe life into a school child's recorder that could charm a brewing storm and he can fit together words like a jigsaw to reveal a lyrical masterpiece worthy of the Louvre. Trust, Jihoon has no qualms over his musical competence.

But how is it that he struggles to find any combination of words suitable to the occasion? Why now does his brain falter when it thinks of ways to encompass just how much he loves you? Not a dictionary in the world would be adequate enough to measure that of which he feels.

Because what he feels for you could not possibly be contained to ink on paper, you're much too special for something as archaic as that. Everything about you is so breathtaking. An enigma he's simply been blessed to experience in this lifetime. Jihoon could carve your likeness into crystal under the moonlight and it wouldn't be nearly as mesmerizing as the real thing.

Jihoon believes you outshine even the brightest stars against a jet-black sky. He'd choose the ones in your eyes to stare at for hours over the Milky Way in a heartbeat. Your voice sings a sweeter melody than Apollo's harp on a warm summer day. One he wishes he could capture and play on a loop for all of eternity. If all of history's greatest composers put their minds to one piece, still, they could not conduct a symphony worthy of your essence.

And, oh, how you call his name has him hearing bells. You light a fire inside him like flint dragged across steel— like a bow across strings. Your hand fits into his palm like the bout of a violin and he can't get enough of the harmony you bring to his life. Just your presence alone grounds him in ways he never knew possible.

When he kisses your lips, Jihoon can taste a song so decedent it leaves him full for days. Soft and delicate touches that crescendo into passion personified pluck at the strings of his heart in the late hours. The feeling of his arms around your waist as you sleep provides an indomitable security. Your even breaths fan against his collarbone like a lullaby, easing him to sleep. Then, when he wakes, you're still there, greeting him like a songbird.

You are his muse, his life, and everything more.

Jihoon understands now why so many of history's greatest ballads are written for lovers. Because the human language is a fickle thing. Always changing, never quite perfect, unsatisfactory in the eyes of man. Music lives on for centuries beyond their composers. It is, by all definitions of the word, immortal. There will always be someone to enjoy its tune and pass it down for years to come.

A song is but a time capsule of the memories that brought it to life. And Jihoon is not a man selfish enough to deny future generations of your beauty. He would write a song a day if it meant cementing your memory in history.

If only he could find the words.

"Are you ready?" Seungcheol's deep voice pierces through the thin silence.

"Not at all." Jihoon inhales as deeply as he can in his suit that feels one away thread from being too tight, then exhales slowly. The parchment with his vows crinkles and folds at the bend between his fingers.

The words in his palm are no soliloquy, but his heart bled them with every ounce of love he could muster through shaky hands. And the gold band on his finger is a gentle reminder he has a lifetime to spend writing ballads in your honor. There are only two words he needs to worry about right now.

I do.

[araminakilla]

Regarding Death Wolf...

Hear me out (NO, it's not the kind you are thinking)

We know Death has a job, right? To collect souls and most likely release them to the afterlife.

And for this job, he has to be there when somebody is about to die, as demostrated with him being there moments before Puss' eight death.

Supposing he is THE Death and he has been doing this since the beginning of time (or at least when there were enough stories of the Grim Reaper to adquire a physical form) that means he has seen a lot, A LOT of awful things.

Murders, suicides, massacres, death of infants, people who didn't deserve to die alone, animal cruelty, some other heavy stuff I won't mention here, etc etc etc.

And we thought "man, how is he able to cope with all of that? That job has to be utter torture for someone."

Probably many of you could think that he is able to do that because he is Death, and he was "born" with that purpose and only him can reap souls perfectly.

But while he is a force of nature, he also WAS a force of nature. Let me explain it well: He adquired a personality enough to be angry, excited, frustrated, amazed, happy, among other emotions.

While he has supernatural power and is most likely the most powerful being in the Shrek Franchise (or in Dreamworks as many say) he is also a PERSON.

Someone with a code of honor, morals, opinions, beliefs, etc.

Returning to the question "How can he bear all of that?" taking into account he is no longer an inevitable force, but a character of his own.

The answer is something you may relate to, and that is: Creativity and escapism.

To be the embodiment of Death, the guy is a very creative fella.

First of all, his design. I heard many people saying here and in Twitter that his design is something they would come up in their edgy, teen years of drawing their first fursona.

Guess what? They are right, the wolf form is someone's fursona. It's DEATH'S fursona. He clearly came up with this badass, piercing canine form to blend with the Fairy Tale Land assuming the form of the "Big Bad Wolf". He most likely had other forms he designed over the centuries and was able to present as them like if he were on a role play game in the living world.

His sickles? The weapon of choice with the little crossed cats on it to have a bigger effect of terror for Puss? Those who can become knuckles and join to create a scythe? Those are his creation, probably after thinking it for a while and writing all of those functions on a paper.

The way he presents himself? In the bar? The coins in his eyes as a "watching you" sign while being a cool reference to the Ferryman of souls? He transforming Perrito's forest into the background of a skull? The chilling reveal at the Cave of Lost Souls? The fire ring? It was all him.

As for the escapism part...

When the world becomes too heavy to deal with as real life issues tend to make us feel bad, depressed, angry... we tend to escape it somewhere. And in our time the common place would be the internet as in webpages or comics, stories, etc.

But what has to do with Death Wolf you may ask?

Well, while he would NEVER be able to escape his job entirely, he can have moments where he can enjoy a good hunt of people who don't appreciate life, like the whole plot of the Puss in Boots sequel could demostrate.

He managed to have a little time outside his eternal routine to chase an arrogant cat who took life for granted. He enjoyed it, it was thrilling, it was exciting.

It was a way to escape a monotonous, grim "life", if just for a short moment.

So, when the chase ended as his prey no longer feared him and now was ready to fight for his last life, the wolf retreats, happy for Puss' character development but resigned because he once again had to return to "The Eternal Duty"

And that's not even counting all the times Jack "I'm dead inside" Horner had to interrupt Lobo's hunt and remind him of his job even in his "spare time"

Death knew the chase had to end eventually, but he didn't want it to end.

He didn't want to return to his own world

And if we look at Death like that, then he is probably one of the most relatable characters Dreamworks has ever make.

In the Shrek Franchise:

Monsters can be loved

Princesses don't have to fit the perfect standards of beauty

Handsome guys can be possesive jerks

Love at first sight doesn't work like one would think

Happily ever afters had to be built and not just obtain them with magic

And Death is the most creative and "full of life" being in the world

Because he would absolutely go crazy with his life/work if he wasn't.

Because in a world of Kings, Poets and Soldiers, he's the Supreme King

And he's also a perky goth but none of you are ready for that conversation.

[whispersoftheton]

Hello!

Do you think you could write an anthony x reader angst turned fluff/smut fic?

They’ve married out of duty but both have feelings for each other they refuse to admit

Hi! This is also my first fic for this fandom and I got kind of carried away with it, hope you don't mind :) Thank you for requesting btw <3

dont worry the next request i post will have smut in it and im posting that one this weekend >:)

Anthony Bridgerton x F!Reader

Warnings: reader and Anthony are married, pining, death of parents (reader), angst, kissing, fluff at the end

Word Count: 2.4K

The day dawned crisp and clear, sunlight peering through the flowing curtains and illuminating your path along the long hallway of your lavish home. The sounds of maids bustling through the estate and the gravel crackling beneath the horse's hoofs from outside filled your ears. Your mind raced with the many tasks at hand for today as you straightened out your dress. The last ball of the season was a significant one indeed, and you had the honor of hosting it tonight. The last few days were filled with overseeing that every detail of the evening, no matter how small, was managed and executed perfectly. 

As the maids fetched accessories and floral arrangements for you to approve ahead of the festivities, you pondered how your life had drastically changed. A mere three months had passed since your wedding day. Still, it seemed a lifetime ago. You had every reason to be happy, you had married well, living more than comfortably, and your husband was not unkind towards you like others you've heard about. But your marriage to the viscount wasn't exactly the love story of the century, to say the least. 

After the passing of both your parents, Lady Danbury had taken you in as one of her own. Raised you to be a lady of society in every way she saw fit and even sponsored your coming out last season. The very same season, the Queen appointed you as her diamond. Not long after, none other than Anthony Bridgerton set his sights on you, surpassing any honorable suitor that even thought about appearing at your doorstep. The entire courtship, along with the proposal, felt purely transactional. Anthony berated you with questions, encounters feeling more like interviews than any courting you were used to. It was not as if you were not attracted to the man if you were being entirely honest with yourself; you'd spent the better half of your time bottling up whatever it is that blossoms in your chest when he is near. And you hated yourself for it. For feeling something you couldn't even name for a man who treated as nothing more than an object. Every public outing where he was caring towards you, even kind and every bit of charming you could ever hope for, raised your hopes high only to see them crashing down at the indifference towards you the moment you were alone without the peering eyes of the ton on you.

Your wedding and honeymoon came and went in a blur. Not even able to consummate the marriage properly due to an argument that left you both enraged and unable to look each other in the eye in the days that followed. The following months were a string of simple greetings in passing and only speaking to one another when absolutely necessary. The empty house you now lived in was becoming your own personal void without so much as the company of your supposed husband.

"Viscountess Bridgerton, are you alright?" Your maid questioned as you snapped out of your haze and directed your attention back to the bouquets before you.

"Yes, this one will be lovely for tonight, thank you." You made your final decision as Anthony strolled into the room. Your maids quickly making themselves sparse, leaving the two of you alone.

"My family should be arriving any second; I assume everything for tonight is in order, is it not?" The underlying sarcasm and questioning of your ability as the lady of the house crawled right under your skin, any lingering feelings you had been contemplating only a moment ago for the Viscount gone in an instant at his distasteful manner.

"Yes, Lord Bridgerton." You replied dryly.

"Dear, we are married and have been for some time now. I would very much like it if I did not have to tell you to address me by my first name while we are in our home." You audibly scoffed at his command while standing from your seat.

"And I would very much like it if my husband would not treat me as though I do not exist." You snapped. Anthony's jaw clenched as he tensed before you. "Seems like neither of us shall get what we want. Now if you'll excuse me, my lord, I have some preparations still pending for tonight. I am sure you can see your family to their rooms for now." 

"Now, you will not even greet my family. Do you have a distaste for them as well?"

"Never. I adore your mama and siblings as if they were my own." Anthony searched for any sign of deceit but instead found honest eyes staring back at him, making his heart ache. "If anything, I am grateful. Alas, there shall be a Bridgerton in this home I do not dislike." 

Your thoughts betrayed you abruptly exited the room and returned to your bed chambers to prepare for the evening, shutting the door and leaning against it in an attempt to steady yourself. Damn him. His scent blurred your thoughts and inhibited every one of your senses as you attempted to concentrate on the anger portrayed in his words. Instead, your mind wandered to how his white shirt hugged every curve of his chest, the plumpness of his lips, and the curve of his jaw. It was alluring in the most intoxicating way. You knew you had to compose yourself before the night began; the last thing you needed was to be distraught at your own ball.

------------------------

You stepped into the ballroom in your new dress gown the modiste had spent a significant amount of time making especially for this occasion. The staircase was beautifully adorned with white roses and touches of lilacs cascading down onto the main area. Candelabras and other flourishing arrangements were stationed around the refreshment tables your guests gathered at, and the thrumming rhythm of classical music whispered into your ears as you took notice of everyone enjoying themselves before greeting them. 

Unbeknownst to you, Anthony stood at the opposite end of the ballroom, observing how you conducted yourself gracefully amongst the guests—making light conversations while extending your kindness to everyone. He marveled at your ability to make each person feel as though they had your undivided attention; although he would never admit it, he found himself yearning for that same attention from you.

Early on, Anthony knew you fit all the requirements he had given himself for a wife. Someone honorable and suitable enough to hold the role of his Viscountess. It was precisely why he had chosen you, but that wasn't the only motive. You were the only lady's company outside his sisters; he did not particularly hate. Every potential partner he sought that season out had come up empty, whether it had been on the conversation or any other unfulfilling matter they discussed. You were different. You carried a conversation like no other, educated in far more areas than he could've hoped for, but none of that quite captured his heart in an unsuspecting manner like your character. You were kind and compassionate in a way he admired; you challenged him in ways that irritated him to no end, yet he found himself entirely enraptured by you. This is precisely why he had no choice other than shut you out completely. Anthony knew letting you get too close would be going against everything he wanted for himself. He couldn't let himself love another or have another love him; with love came loss. That he knew for certain.

"All seems good with the two of you, I see." Daphne smiled while moving to stand by Anthony as she spoke, breaking his train of thought.

"Good? I do not follow, dear sister." Anthony cleared his throat.

"Yes, good. With the way you were just openly admiring your wife, I assume it is only because the two of you have finally gotten over yourselves and admitted whatever it is you feel for one another." Anthony practically rolled his eyes at his younger sister, beginning to regret ever being forthcoming with her about the circumstances of his marriage early on. "Oh, do not tell me you are still playing this game? At this stage of marriage? Anthony-" She began scolding him, but he interrupted and led her to a more private area of the ballroom. 

"There is no game. We married because it was our duty to do so. Nothing more, nothing less. You will have to accept that, Daphne." Anthony's voice grew stern as he furrowed his brows at his sister.

"And I do. What I will not accept is the way your love for each other goes unspoken when it is clear to everyone around you." She spoke her following words in a hushed tone as to keep anyone who may be standing near from listening to them. "There is no doubt you hold love in your heart for her, brother. But if you do not tell her soon, I fear you will lose her and your only chance at happiness forever." With that, Daphne offered him a soft smile before walking towards Simon, who busied himself greeting Lady Danbury and her mama.

The night went on better than you could've hoped for. The dances and mingling were without a flaw, and even Lady Bridgerton and the Dutchess were quick to praise you on how well everything had turned out. Soon the guests started to filter out, making their way home after a long night of celebration. You strolled over to your husband after bidding goodbye to her majesty the Queen and ensuring everything had been to her liking. Anthony couldn't help but take notice of how stunning you looked tonight. How your dress fell perfectly over your figure, gems scattered throughout to match his mother's necklace laid in the most alluring way on the supple skin of your neck and chest. He was entranced in a way he'd never been before. Perhaps Daphne had been right. There's a sentence he never thought he'd utter, he thought to himself. Perhaps he had let his fears control him for far too long.

You had barely noticed your ring slipping from your fingers to fall at Anthony's feet as you approached him. Both of you leaned down to reach for it in unison, fingers ghosting over one another, making your breath catch and your eyes meet as he placed it upon your finger once again. The intimacy of such a small moment becoming too much to bear far too quickly.

"I must go." You could not bear to withstand one more moment under Anthony's intense glare, the part of you that wanted to finally divulge all the feelings you'd fought so hard to suppress after all this time threatening to break through at any given moment. You suddenly stepped back, picked up your dress the best you could, and walked hastily to avoid attracting unwanted attention from lingering guests. As you paced through the gardens, an overwhelming and uncertain feeling washed over you before you overheard Anthony's steps behind you.

"Why? Why is it that you distance yourself from me?" Anthony shouted in a hushed tone toward you. 

"Me? I am not the one stuffed in my office all day, coming to bed at late hours of the night when I am asleep and gone once I wake. Avoiding me day in and day out as if I am a plague to you." Tears welled in your eyes, making Anthony's breath hitch. He could not stand to see you like this. Every nerve in his body burned to fix whatever was troubling you, even if he was the one who caused it. Every feeling he had worked so hard to bury all this time, convincing himself he did not love you, could not love you, surfacing with every word that escaped your lips. "You treat me as though you do not care for me." Your voice was just low enough for him to hear, eyes cast downward, unable to give him so much as a glance through his silence. 

"Do not care for you? It is as if I am being consumed when I am with you. I cannot hold a breath or do the most ordinary task without you racing across my every thought. I feel as though I am losing my sanity because I cannot bear to be without you for one second. And when you are near me, it is positively intoxicating in ways I did not know to be possible." Anthony stepped cautiously toward you, fingers ghosting over your cheek, eyes dancing along your features with adoration filling them. "I love you. I love you as much as a person can love another. I do not wish to hold it inside anymore. I love you."

"I love you too." A sob wracked your chest as you responded without hesitation. The reflection in your eyes conveyed the devotion and tenderness he yearned for. It was as if you indeed saw the pieces of him but only sought to love him as he was, incomplete and perfect in every way in your eyes. As your husband.

Your heartbeat quickened as Anthony stepped close enough so that your noses practically brushed against one another—a familiar desire spreading from your heart to your chest.

Anthony cupped your face, his thumb tenderly stroking your cheek. Chills spread along your skin at the warmth of his touch. Unbridled affection flowed freely and filled the space between you. Your lips met for what felt like the first time; his other hand settled at your waist, prompting you closer to him and deepening the kiss. His lips moved against yours with a gentle urgency. It was as if nothing else mattered, the past becoming more of a distant memory the further you melted into him. There was only this moment. Anthony unwillingly pulled away, leaving your foreheads pressed against one another, his hair slightly disheveled from your fingers running through it, lips swollen and thoroughly kissed. A deep sigh escaped him before he spoke.

"I would marry you again if I could. Do it all over from the very beginning." His voice slightly wavered at the sentiment; it suddenly weighed on him how much he truly meant it. He wished nothing more than to turn back time and love you the way you deserve from the very beginning. Things would have been so different.

"Anthony, you do not need to embellish. We already married." A chuckle escaped you, a knowing smile gracing his lips. "What?"

"You called me Anthony." 

I do not consent to having my work reposted, translated, or published to any third party site or app. if anyone sees my work anywhere that is not ao3/tumblr or under any other username that is not whispersoftheton, it has been reposted without my permission

[vilsoo]

𝐒𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐎𝐍 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 ⌇GETO SUGURU

witch!reader x married!geto suguru || WC: 10,779

𖤐 SYNOPSIS. love and sex spells are your expertise; saving your client’s relationships and marriage with your witchcraft. you’d never go out your way to ruin them, until, you meet the handsome married man geto suguru…

𖤐 WARNINGS. witch disguised as sex therapist, implied homewrecking, slight yandere, witchcraft, seduction, impersonation, bodysnatching, body/soul possession, toxicity, eventual smut, horror/thriller themes.

HORRORLAND/KINKTOBER MASTERLIST

[ANNOUNCER] Your attention please! Horrorland is now opened for all guests. We hope you enjoy our new exciting attractions and parklands this year, such as as Maneaterville, Monster F***** Woodlands, and the return of Horrorland’s famous parkland, Sex and Horror City! Please remember to be mindful of other guests making their way through and abide by our safety rules. Thank you for coming to Horrorland this Halloween!

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] As you are getting seated, be mindful that this 4D simulation ride contains flashing scenes, special effects, and jarring motions. Please remember to stay seated and keep all arms and legs inside when the vehicle is in motion. Keep your 4D glasses on for a better experience. Any kind of photography is not allowed during the ride. And absolutely no eating, smoking, or drinking while riding. Thanks for your attention and cooperation. We hope you enjoy.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Ancient love magic, love spells, sex rituals, charms, potions, invocations, incantations, enchantments, runes, hexes, witchcraft.

300 years ago around the early 15th century, you’ve grown as a love witch; mastering the most powerful love and sex spells that many others failed to do. Some covens never knew of this magic nor practiced them, which is why you’ve been protecting it. You were mostly an independent witch your whole life, keeping yourself hidden and far away from the town and its people.

Most of these love spells weren’t learned from the ancient books you came across. You were taught from the love deities themselves; Venus, Krishna, Eos, Aphrodite, and so on. Goddesses that were associated with romance, lust, and sexuality were your teachers for several years. And in exchange, all you had to do was honor them through ritual, prayer, offerings, and most importantly keeping your sexual energy and prowess protected.

It wasn’t until one evening during the witch-hunt period, you fell in love with a man you’ve been seeing. A man that was bewitched and under all your spells, using them to keep him around longer. You loved him so much that you were willing to give up practicing witchcraft and gain your years of humanity back; everything that you missed out on and being a normal, regular citizen living your youth…

Sadly, the good memories and moments you shared just had to end so abruptly. It was hard to keep your witch life hidden, even though you believed nobody would suspect you. When he found your secret basement where all your witchcraft books, candles, pentagrams, cauldrons, and many other powerful objects were hidden, you were outed immediately.

At least you were protected by your divine spirits and guardian angels during the chase. Nobody found you nor did you get burned at the stake, thankfully. You were also able to find a remote location away from civilization, but it was difficult living like this; not being able to retain a normal life with your humanity. But the goddesses noticed, giving you the gift of staying youthful, young, and beautiful forever until the end of time. When the witch-hunt period passed, you managed to live for centuries finally enjoying a normal life through different eras and generations without time catching up.

You’ve then decided to never use your love spells on the people you have an eye on; instead, you wanted to help others.

Fast forward to present time, you were a licensed couples counselor, relationship advisor, and sex therapist. You’ve been helping broken relationships and marriages with your “wise advice” when really you were just doing your love spells behind the scenes. Of course, all their problems went away and customers would give their best reviews and really good pay. The same with sex therapy too; when in need of advice on how to spice things up in bed, you offer it while manifesting the most powerful and passionate sexual energy for them. And ‘till this day, you still honor your love deities even though they retired as your teachers centuries ago.

“Doctor Y/N is ready to see you now,” said your secretary, opening your office doors as your next male client sauntered in.

When your gaze flickered to the man’s face, in that mere, fleeting moment, something alluring about him blossomed within you. Settling on those deep and dark eyes as if linked to the primordial abyss— his charm, beauty, presence, and his energy alone had you hopelessly afflicted…! You haven’t felt such powerful infatuation and attraction in centuries that it was like discovering parts of you that were hidden beneath… What was it about this stranger and his sexual energy that you were oddly drawn to?

You forced yourself from your perverse thoughts and professionally greeted him just like any other client. “Afternoon, you must be Suguru. How are you today?”

“I’m good, how are you?” he coaxed as he sat across from your sofa, the sultry in his voice as smooth as molasses and so ravagingly rich in flavor. So hypnotizing and much more powerful than any enchantment. And his aura was so passionate and bright as the sun, radiant and all illuminating, like a lotus flower bathing on a still pond.

You sighed deeply and recomposed yourself as you sat down. “I’m doing good,” you beamed, not realizing you were all doe-eyed towards him. “You, uh, want anything to drink before we start?”

The way he smiled and chuckled softly out of nervousness was so precious to descry. “No, no. I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

“So, what brings you to this session?”

Your eyes never left Geto’s face as if he was etched deep within your skin, watching him exhale deeply from his agitation. “A close friend of mine recommended you to me. You’re a very skilled therapist and I’ve seen lots of good reviews about you. You must be really good at your job.”

“Thank you,” you beamed, feeling your heart skip a beat from his compliment. “I love what I do and it’s very heartwarming to hear from my clients that they’re satisfied after our sessions.”

“That’s very good to hear, doctor.”

“Are you nervous?”

“Me? Ah… just a little,” he faltered. “I’ve never been to a sex therapist before and I never really talk about my wife and I’s sex life.”

Wife?

Just hearing that come out of those saccharine lips of his had the synapses of your brain frozen. The image of him married, spending the rest of his life with another woman ripped your mind up like a vice and paralyzed you. Immediately the silver titanium wedding ring caught your eye. It felt as if you only had one second to go through all five stages of grief and then force yourself to remain composed and professional.

You. Would. Never.

You were strictly against ruining people’s relationships and marriage. You’d never have just a fleeting thought of homewrecking someone’s marriage or promoting infidelity. It would be a major taboo as a witch! But then again, there was this feeling inside that was screaming at you to keep this man and his sexual energy wrapped around your finger… at a safe and professional distance.

You swallowed thickly. “Oh, that’s okay. That’s normal, Suguru! But in order for you to open up to me, I’m going to ask a few questions about you and your wife’s sex life, will that be fine?”

“Yes, please,” he gestured.

“Can you provide your sexual history? Like when was the last time you had sex with her?”

The moment he had to think about it, you knew where this was going. You almost felt pity. “Uh… I believe three weeks ago? I know, that sounds a little unusual, but, we’ve been very busy lately.”

“I see. Are you guys at least intimate and loving with each other outside of sex, though?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re very passionate with each other. My wife is very charismatic, endearing, beautiful... there’s so much I love about her. But when we we’re in bed, she still wants to take things slow; even though we’re very comfortable with each other. We mostly make love. You know, soft vanilla sex; not that there’s anything wrong with that. I would never pressure her to do something that she’s uncomfortable with. But, I came to you today because… I want to be more experimental with her. I want to spice things up in the bed and make sure she’s enjoying it. And even though I communicate about it to her, she’s still closed off about it. How can I make her open up to me?”

You hummed, trying not to go crazy over the fantasies of him making love like those passionate sex scenes you’ve seen in movies or homemade porn. “I’ve dealt with several clients experiencing that same reluctance your wife has. There’s a variety of reasons; she’s either very shy and awkward about it, or she’s just disgusted about sex in general. Low libido also contributes. It’s extremely common nowadays in women.”

Geto had a dejected sigh, worried about his wife. “Do you mind elaborating, doctor..?”

“When it comes to sex, not all women can voice out what they want. It doesn’t mean that there is something wrong; it just means she’s naturally shy about sex, and that’s completely normal,” you explained. “If your wife seems to want to make you happy in bed but is also reluctant, you should try reassuring to her that you love her, and your desire for a more exciting sex life doesn’t mean that you don’t love and desire her already. Tell her what you’ve done before and what you haven’t. She may feel more secure about trying something new with you. And express why you want a more exciting sex life with her.”

“I really hope I didn’t make her feel that way. God, I would be sick to my stomach if I ever made her feel insecure about herself. What is it about me that makes her… shy?”

You lean back on your sofa, smoothing out your long skirt while trying not to rub your thighs together. You’ve never felt such forbidden lust for a client before, especially a married man. It felt as if you were under a spell instead.

“Um, well— your presence and your aura just radiate… dominance to me,” you piqued while tilting your head. “It’s like… you know what you want and how to get it so easily. A shy woman wouldn’t even dare to take control. In order for that not to happen, allow her to empathize with your awkwardness or shyness about some things in bed. She’ll be a lot more willing to open up to you in return.”

His strong devotion to pleasure his wife was so intense to you. It made your chest thunder and your stomach twist; you had no idea what was going on with you and this stranger’s energy invading into yours. Just how powerful is his lust that it’s making you not think straight? You were feeling needy and filthy, and your energy was drawn into him and him only.

“I see... well, you’re right. I’m feeling a lot more confident that after taking in your advice and support, we’ll definitely cooperate together. She doesn’t have to be all shy with me. We can just work through it together, right?”

You agreed. For the past 30 minutes of spending more time knowing about Geto and his wife in order for the sex rituals to work, you asked more questions and went through the regular procedures of sex therapy. But the more you lingered with him, the more the tension thickened. Suguru had you infatuated and distracted. And even though he had a wife, you couldn’t help but feel such strong attraction. You tried your best not to seduce him. You tried your best to not let your mind wander off into filthy fantasies of him. But the furtive heat and wetness pooling between your legs felt as if it was transmitting onto your sofa. You had this erratic throbbing in the walls of your pussy the more you interacted with him. And you had no fucking clue why.

When Suguru left, you immediately had to take care of yourself. Keeping a spare vibrator in your drawer, you locked the doors and sat down on the sofa Geto was sitting on, spreading your legs while getting off to the vibrator stimulating your aching clit. You’ve abandoned your shame long ago about masturbating in your office on your break; you needed this badly. But such lust and fervor has never felt so urgent in your life that it heavily concerned you.

You moaned as softly as you could, having to muffle yourself to not let anyone nearby hear. And after cumming this fast for the first time in ages, you cleaned yourself up and got ready to leave for home and perform the sex ritual for Geto and his wife. You had to keep pushing away your jealousy in order to satisfy him. The spell would backfire if there were any feelings evolved, anyways. Never has this ever happened to you, though; for centuries you never knew your body could react this way over a man.

What’s spine-chilling was not even knowing why this was happening all of a sudden and why it’s happening in this time and age. It’s like your sexual energy and prowess that you’ve been protecting took over your poise, immobilizing your chaste and unleashing your inner promiscuity, like a deadly parasite attached to you and wanting to feed off it. And for Geto Suguru, a married man and loving husband, his mystifying sexual energy was enough to corrupt you entirely.

I have to stay away from him.

But, if the spell backfires, his marriage would be ruined forever…

That would be my first ever failure as a sexual therapist and healer.

You finally got home and headed to your magicarium, which is your basement with all your witchcraft and magic objects organized neatly. It was time for you to let go of Geto Suguru and only focus on improving his marriage and sex life. Stay professional and proceed with the ritual; then you’ll never have to see or even think of him. You rushed around like this was a life-endangering emergency, gathering everything that you needed. But as you were preparing your ingredients, you suddenly thought about a short-term memory loss spell.

Could that work..?

Since it’s a spell that hasn’t been used in several years, you had to go through all your bookshelves filled with thousands of spells and enchantments. Everything witchcraft related. You tried searching through your potions and journal entries, desperately looking everywhere just to get that man out of your mind. But as you were skimming one last time through your bookshelf, a thick book of various rituals fell down from the shelf.

When you head over to pick it up, the title and the cover caught your eye; something entirely different, something you’ve never performed successfully thousands of years ago; body and soul possession.

Your heart was rapidly racing in your chest for absolutely no reason. Then, you felt it again; your energy being drawn into a force you knew was corrupted… But instead of your sexual energy, it was your impulsiveness. You can feel it pounding inside your head, all the thoughts digging pathways into your brain more agonizing than any migraine. What was going on? What’s happening to you? Why are you feeling like this…?

You dropped the book to hold your face from the rush of anxiety, emitting a loud thud on the floor and opening to a random page right below. When you glanced down and read the subheading, only then had you realized what you fallen into…

This wasn’t witchcraft. It was all demon magic. Black magic. Corrosive to the soul, a diabolic price to pay. You get on your knees and proceed to read the spell out of curiosity:

Body and soul possession: Every intricate detail of this spell is uniquely crafted to mirror your aspirations, summoning the cosmic forces to reshape your physical existence. To perform body and soul possession, one must chant the incantation 3 times during the witching hour on full moon. Allow your soul to possess the other individual’s body and mind, letting go of your old self and feeling reborn into a new life. Your motivation, rapacity, greed, and selfish desires must be intense and strong enough for the body and soul possession to succeed. There will be no going back to your original form if you follow this method, however…

And in that moment, something shifted within you. You could feel the tides of time coming to a halt as sinister impulses took over you, an expulsion of foreign energy spreading like cursed blood in your veins. Imprisoning your lust for what felt like several years had now been released, your energy now lascivious and greedy to satisfy your primal needs. You’ve betrayed your true nature of being a passionate, endearing couples counselor. You failed to protect what your deities have been protecting for you. You’re now a victim to your own rapacious desire, enslaved to this rhythm of such unquenchable fire.

Your entire life, you’ve been stuck in a body that never ages. You’ve lost your friends and families from centuries ago while you get to live as this immortal witch, staying young forever and scorching the earth. But not anymore; no matter how many times you’ve tried dying, tried breaking your curse, tried being reincarnated to a mortal woman, and tried black magic that backfired, you finally found a new life to look forward to. A way you can finally free yourself.

Geto Suguru’s wife was the perfect body to possess. And with your soul inside of her body, you can finally have a taste of his energy you’ve been craving for the longest.

He will be yours to keep forever.

To execute this plan, you had to wait a couple of weeks for the full moon that falls on October 28th this year. It was an agonizing wait, so you decided to pretend things were all going normal and resumed your regular schedule for work. When you performed the sex ritual for Geto and his temporary wife, you just had to know for yourself how it all goes down. And how do you do this? By stalking them both at their house.

A day later after the ritual, you cast another spell that lets you mind control a crow and see through their eyes. The crow was perched on their windowsill, watching as Geto came home from work with his blazer draped over his arm and his body fatigued. His wife then comes in a few seconds later, arms opened for a tight embrace.

“…Hey, hey. I missed you a lot, too,” Geto chuckled as he kissed her cheek. “What’s all this, hm?”

The smile on his face was out of subtle bewilderment, as if he was stunned from his wife all over him like there was no tomorrow, greeting him with kisses all over his face. Evidence that the spell was beginning to work.

“What? I just missed you,” she coaxed, diving into a deep, passionate kiss with him that it made your stomach churn as you watched. “Dinner’s also ready.”

Geto’s lips brush the crook of her neck, taking in the scent of her enhanced pheremones. You can immediately tell by his longing expression that he was already turned on, gliding his hands down her body. But knowing his limits, he purposefully held himself back from taking her on right there.

“You smell… really good,” he whispers. “I’d rather have you for dinner instead.”

The two of them laughed it off, his wife taking his hand to bring him into the kitchen. The rest of their banter was blurred out of your mind when all you thought about was how intimate Geto was. Replaying the way he held her, how he kissed her. Such a loyal, loving husband with powerful underlying sexual energy you were dying to have a taste of.

It was nice to see your magic working perfectly, but that wasn’t your main concern. Not once in your life you ever doubted your love and sex spells. But in this very moment, your main focus was her. Knowing everything about her life, from her identity, schedule, routine, background, personality, etc. in order to take her place and possess her body.

Their dinner conversation was going on for too long. You needed to know more about their life at home and in public together. Just absorbing his wife’s memories wouldn’t even be enough. It’s gonna take a lot for you to fit in this new life, but you were heavily dedicated. And it wouldn’t be that difficult with so many spells you’ve practiced for eternity.

When nightfall finally approaches, the energy in the bedroom was enough to intoxicate your bloodstream. Even from several miles way it invaded you like fire in your ribs and coals upon your tongue, fueling you with such fervor. It seems that the couple had communicated with each other effectively, expressing all of their desires and fantasies in bed. A passionate, special night for them indeed; but it was such a shame that this won’t be going on for long.

Still stalking from the eyes of a crow, the feathers blended with the pitch black sky as you stayed perched by their windows. Geto Suguru has never looked so yummy to you; his body, his face, the size of his big cock… you wanted to get off so bad by the heavenly sight of him. It was already too late to pull away since you were drawn into the energy flowing in the room.

At first, he was so gentle with her. Checking up with her every few minutes as he was going down on her and caressing her body. You were too aroused by this; way too aroused from how he was eating her pussy out. If you closed your eyes and tried enough, you could picture him eating you out instead. Wondering how you would react as Geto kept teasing, making you pull onto his bedsheets that begins to stick onto your skin, crying out his name as you grind your hips on his face...

Then you watched as she got on his knees, gazing up at him with the most tantalizing look in her eyes. You sensed that she was an amateur; her first time ever going down on a male. Geto was still being gentle, willing to guide her and teach her. It was a slow process; but fuck, if only that were you instead. The tight circle of your lips rolling upwards and downwards, peering through your eyelashes and pinning your gaze on him the whole time until he had the urge to fuck your throat... Oh, he’ll have no fucking idea.

You can also hear him talking her through it. Praising her taking his dick so good, but also calling her “my little slut.” God, if only that were you. Showing his gentle dominance that gradually switches to a rough, degrading dom that loves putting a woman in her place. Fucking her until she cries, until she screams, until she orgasms multiple times. That was the kind of energy from Geto that you sensed; all that repressed rough fantasies and desires that he’s been holding back on for so long were bound to come out.

Such a shame, Suguru. She was the first to experience how much of a filthy person you really are deep down...

It’s unbelievable that this man hasn’t laid one finger on you or stood within your presence up close; yet he’s the only man that’s making you muffle your moans and whines out of shame in your own home. Playing with yourself, getting off to this filthy sight… no man has ever had you become this pathetic ever. But deep down, you secretly loved it; as if he’s given you all the power to ruin yourself. That once he lays a finger on you, you want him to make it hurt real good…

The stalking mission became worse as the days gone by, but at least you were making tons of progress retaining information. Whenever the couple wasn’t home, you’d find yourself roaming about inside, sneaking in through their mirrors. You analyzed every room in their home, the way every decoration was arranged, the way their drawers were organized, the food that makes up their pantry, the books that they read, mostly everything until his wife comes home from work. You had to know about where she works, what kind of car she drives, and what exactly she does.

While handling other clients back at work, Geto’s session would occur once a week over Zoom meetings. You got to “officially” meet his wife, putting on a polite and professional facade as you continued “advising” them and following sex therapy procedures. But this mission was all you were invested in for weeks, now taking off so many days from your job just to focus on the couple. It was also fascinating to witness how far they came from their timid sex experience to the point they’ve fucked all over the house every day and night, taking their sexual frustrations out on each other and then having the sweetest, intimate aftercare.

But it wasn’t until your blazing envy and prolonged jealousy of his wife provoked you; You wanted to drain her energy that she was sharing with Geto by psychologically torturing her every few nights. She needed to know that there was someone out there, lurking in the vulnerable edges of her mind, always watching her nearby. Standing beside her bed at night, watching her deep in her slumber. You were a snake slithered into position and ready to strike. Your unsettling presence then waking her up in the middle of the night, shooting up from her bed with a startled gasp and looking around to find nobody.

The hunt for her was never going to stop. All the times she would be alone, whether at work or at home doing chores, you’d torment her with dark magic that paralyzes her with this sinking sensation of diabolical fear and painful turmoil. You gained such satisfaction and amusement out of this, threatening her in the most sinister ways that was all in her head. That was the beauty of black magic and witchcraft; getting exactly what you want out of something standing in your way.

The 28th was finally here. Your mind is screaming at you that it’s time. This was the last night of your mundane life as a witch and being reborn as a normal human being, finally getting a taste of death. There was nothing to miss from a life of immortality. There was no point in honoring your love deities since they don’t come around anymore. And as much as you loved your career in couples counseling, it was time to “retire.”

With your soul leaving your body forever, you decided to leave yourself in a remote location where no one could find your body. You emptied out your whole house as if you moved out and sold it. All of your witchcraft books and powerful objects were stored in another spare underground magicarium you used for centuries, safely hidden and guarded where no one else could find or trespass.

The shroud of night draws nigh, darkness swallowing every last bit of light on earth. At a darkened alleyway, you find his wife walking to the parking lot after her shift. The air around falls colder, sending a shiver coursing down her spine. You can see her but she can’t see you. But she can feel you. You want her to feel you reaping on her. You kept your eyes on her like a prowling wolf seeing their prey on the periphery of their new territory. The eerie, icy silence was enough to make all the hair rise on her skin.

Te video.

You tread so fondly and almost too carefully, ever so gracefully near her body, but as light as a rare breeze in a scorching desert. She still can’t see you, but she heard you; your wintry, delicate whispers of wicked incantations that reverberated in her ears and soaked into the air. She halted on her pathway and averted her head around in alarm, her breathing growing rapid and her eyes darting at every corner.

Such a fickle soul she was, perfect to be tormented alone in a dismal night like this. As much as you wanted her gone, you couldn’t help but take predatory thrill in agonizing a soul like hers that was soon to face the worse demise.

Tu es mortua mulier…

Tu autem ad me pertinent…

She let out a yelp when her head began throbbing, seeing the world around her spin as if she was nauseous. Your incantations now scream in her ears like a shrieking banshee, seizing every fiber of her being in bone-chilling horror. She holds onto the rough concrete wall and kept her head low like she was going to vomit, panting heavily until her heartbeat expelled all of the air from her lungs.

The lamps on the alleyway begin to flicker erratically. A flock of crows caw loudly as they fly fast up above. There were no sounds of cars. No sign of people around. She was a victim trapped in your menacing mind, twisting her reality into a night terror, almost resembling a bad drug trip.

Drip. Drop. Drip. Drop.

The woman turned her head ever so slowly to a puddle beside her, leaky water from a ledge dripping on its rippling surface. She leans forward to stare at her reflection, her facial expression mixed with tumult and distorted curiosity. With the alleyway being dark, seeing herself this way was like staring at a helpless version of herself lost in an abyss. Sunken away, forgotten from the world, never to be heard from again…

“No, I— I need to get back,” she uttered to herself. “I need to go home.”

Excipio.

Lured by your incantations messing with her head once again, her eyes follow the direction the sudden gush of wind drifted, all the way to the end of the alleyway. But what she didn’t know, the moment she took her curious eyes off the puddle that suddenly rippled, her reflection was not mirroring her at all.

Her reflection curves a wicked smirk at the corner of her lips, eyes widening as if a feral predator finally cornered their puny prey. In a blink of an eye, you can hear the wife screaming when your hand reached out of the puddle and grabbed her. How unfortunate that her screaming and crying for help was futile, trying her hardest to fight back such a deadly force. She should’ve known it was the last night of her life.

Munera porto mea consortes, corpora muta per auras...

She screams, she shrieks, she struggles with the black water coming out from the puddle transfiguring into a solid rope to bind her wrists behind her head, pinning her down to the ground.

Munera porto mea consortes, corpora muta per auras…

Her head suddenly shoots back with her mouth agape, a sign that she’s no longer in control of her own body. Her eyes start to glow and her limbs completely freeze like a deer in headlights. You can feel your soul resonating into her body as you kept repeating the incantation. She tried fighting it; she really tried her best fighting to keep her own body, like pulling a tooth with a string. But nothing could beat dark magic, finally eating away her soul and energy until she feels herself withering away. Finally cascading on her heart, her mind, body, and soul is now a lost one, somewhere drowning in a deep and dark abyss.

It was time to go home to your husband.

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Something shifted in the air when Geto was at home that night.

That feeling of needles piercing on the sides of his body for just a fleeting second. A random shiver running down his spine. A wave of nausea cascading in his stomach. His gut suddenly twisting out of nowhere. He had no idea why he felt this way; why this agitation suddenly washed over him. The last time he endured a gut-wrenching feeling like this was months ago for his first sex therapy session, which he found out Doctor Y/N no longer works there.

Thank goodness for her. If it weren’t for her advice, my wife wouldn’t be as confident in bed with me as she is now, he marveled in his head.

Geto was in the kitchen chopping up vegetables. Saturdays are when his wife comes home late for working overtime, which means he has to prepare dinner tonight. But what utterly surprised him was her coming home earlier than the usual time she arrives.

“Honey, I’m home!”

Of course, greeting each other after coming home from work was a normal thing they do everyday. But your enthusiasm coming home after working 10 hours was just a little anomalous to Geto. But it shouldn’t even be that big of a deal, right..? Maybe she has exciting news. Maybe she’s just happy to come home early. He would admit, her enthusiasm was just adorable. Any expression of happiness and joy from his wife was a beautiful sight to witness.

You make your way to the kitchen, immediately coming together to embrace. Geto felt his lungs closing in on him from how tight you were hugging him, squeezing all the oxygen out of him that he didn’t have enough time to register it.

“Oh my goodness— baby,” he chuckled breathlessly, sliding his hand down to hold your waist. His caresses drizzled under your skin, lulling you and feeling his body heat radiating onto you. Oh, his scent was just enough to send your desires and wanton lust ablaze. Starved of love for far too long, it felt painful deep down, like having an appetite for something unreachable.

“How was work? Everything okay?” Geto’s eyebrows slightly drew together, mentally contemplating this sudden rush of energy you had compared to this morning where you were all groggily and not in the mood for work.

You kept touching him, fiddling with his collar and running your hands down his chest. You couldn’t believe you were finally this close to him; it made you so nervous deep down. His physique was a masterpiece of curvaceous precision, artwork sculpted and delicately lined that you’ve adorned ever since you first laid your eyes on him. It was like doing a reality check to see if this was all real and not just a forbidden fantasy, that Geto Suguru truly belonged to you. Admiring him like an award, rather, a prized possession that you worked so hard to achieve.

“Work was… tiring,” you reply with a feigned sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck. “I was also distracted today, too…”

“Oh? And why is that?” He smirked and inched his lips closer, giving you exactly what you wanted that you just couldn’t bare holding back longer. How can you crave something so rich and true that existence felt like it paled in comparison?

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you at work,” you muttered coyly. “Especially about this morning when you took care of me…”

“Oh, baby…” Geto held onto your hips as he guided you gently to the counter behind you. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.”

The way your eyes glimmered with passion and fire was so ravishing to him. He knows just how bad you want it, until he suddenly thought about the vegetables that were unfinished.

“…But, I gotta feed you first. You’ve been working so hard. You must be exhausted.”

With a soft kiss on the forehead, Geto walks back over to where the cutting board of vegetables laid, grabbing the knife and continuing to chop. You’ve never got to experience a domestic life with a man this way. He was the ideal, perfect husband. Financially supportive, stable, loyal, loving, housekeeping, all of the qualities and categories you’ve observed while stalking him several weeks prior. But god, you couldn’t wait to physically and spiritually experience the way he is in bed…

The rest of the evening you were getting ready upstairs, then headed down to the kitchen a few minutes later to aid him in preparing. Nothing unusual, unordinary, or out of place happening as the rest of the evening went on. You adjusted pretty quickly with the aid of his wife’s memories that you absorbed. You knew what food he liked, how to operate the stoves and other kitchen supplies, how they set the table, what time they usually eat dinner, and so on. And of course, a sprinkle of flirting here and there.

“Hm. Did you add something?” Geto asks after he ate a spoonful of the food you helped making at the dinner table. “I never tasted Zaru Soba like this before. I thought you’d always follow the same recipe.”

You panicked, not knowing that you might have accidentally changed something and tension would suddenly form over small stuff like this. “Um— I just felt a little… experimental today. I’m sorry if you don’t like it.”

“No, no, honey,” he chuckles, reaching over to hold your hand in reassurance. “It doesn’t taste bad. I just thought… this was your family recipe and you stuck with it for years. But no harm in adding something new, right?”

You chuckled it off, trying to recompose yourself from the rapid beating of your heart. Perhaps there were major differences between you and his wife that would take time to adjust. However, you refused. Geto, on the other hand, scrutinized your little mannerisms like always. He’s attracted to every small thing his wife does; whether it’d be the way she sits, the way she speaks, the cute facial expressions she makes that makes him want to figure out what she’s thinking about. But for some reason, he couldn’t quite put his finger on what you’re thinking or how you’re feeling tonight.

Saturday evening dinners, he knows that you’re tired. Drained, enervated, and groggy all because of work. His wife would eat more slowly and frequently grab the pitcher on the table to keep refilling her glass from dehydration. The water in the pitcher would be iced as well, but tonight you left it at room temperature. You were almost finished with your plate, which is unusual because Geto always finishes his food before you, just so he can sit, talk, and listen as you ate. And the way you sat as well; usually you’d be slouching and massaging your thighs because of soreness and cramps and stress. Right now, your leg was folded on the other and your back seemed perfectly fine, shoulders pushed back like how you would sit in the fancy restaurants he would take you. But he knows just how comfortable you are with him at home that you don’t even have to act all modest and fancy.

How weird. I never overthink about my wife and her wellbeing, Geto vacillated in his mind. She’s just in a good mood..! There’s nothing wrong with her. Nothing about her changed at all…

“What are you thinking about, hm?” you coaxed, rubbing your foot against his leg under the table it caught him off guard. Your gaze flickers onto his, the heated look in your eyes seeping into his skin like water in a wound. The way you take him in was something he’s never seen nor felt before. His wife’s “fuck-me” eyes would be more submissive, more doe-eyed, more slothful, more yearning. That glimmer in your eyes that makes him lose his mind… But the look you gave him just now was enough to penetrate his psyche; rapacious, calculated, greedy— like a predator feening on its prey that it captured, having him all to yourself.

“Ah, I was just…”

Geto’s been contemplating the past ten minutes that he wasn’t even able to register you leaning in closer to kiss him. But it wasn’t just any soft, passionate kiss like you were trying to soothe him or give a loving, tender gesture. The way you kissed him was out of urgency, as if a rush of adrenaline took over you. The greed and desire he could see in your eyes earlier resonated in the kiss. He was confused, but at the same time… he couldn’t resist the way you clung onto him like he’s the only solid thing in your hazy world.

Your bodies bled into one as he kissed you, picking you up just to set you down on the dining table. As much as he wanted to be gentle with you, you were the one that kept devouring farther and rougher in his mouth, turning the kiss sloppy and barricading your hearing with heavy breathing. You’ve been wanting this ever since he stepped foot into your office that day. To feel his ravenous, depraved sexual energy coursing in your veins and setting your ribs on fire. Your wild ecstasy was fulfilling you so incredibly, an insatiable hunger and frenzy growing right at its peak that it greeds for more…!

“Fuck— wait, baby,” Geto breathed out in between kisses, still astounded from how energetic and horny you were despite working a 10 hour shift. “You still haven’t told me about work… What happened? Why are you so worked up tonight, hm?”

“I’ll tell you later,” you purred in his ear, realizing just how good you were at improvising and playing along. “Right now I just want you, Suguru… I want you right here on this table.”

“You didn’t have to tell me twice. I’ll fuck you until the legs of this table breaks.”

Arousal has never felt this intense; maybe you were much more wild and ravenous than Geto deep down. Like an animal driven by nothing more than the primal need to claim him as your own. He could feel how wet and hot you were for him just by lightly brushing his fingertips on your panties, seeing you squirm and grind your hips against him just for friction. Your body’s reaction and your desperation were so adorable to him it made his cock stir in his pants. Perhaps this was the only way to make him stop overthinking about the small stuff and get over it.

Suguru lowered himself down as he pushed your panties to the side. “I’ll eat this pretty pussy out from the back and then fuck you like I always do…”

You could feel him licking the glistening juices off your skin, savoring the taste and the delicate scent that drove him fucking insane. He proceeded to push a finger inside you, so slick and wet for him, emitting whimpers and moans out of your mouth. He adored hearing you make such filthy noises that reverberate off the walls. And he loved whenever you bucked against his face as his fingers curled inside you, hitting the spot and sucking on your clit that he knows drives his wife insane. He would never go on without eating her pussy; not just for her pleasure, but his pleasure as well.

He was also a man that kept his promises; several moments later your head was pinned down on the table as he fucked you so viciously on the table that you were on your tip toes. Shameless moans soaking into the air, his thrusts so rough that the table moved inch by inch on the floor it started creaking. You could finally feel it; you could taste it, you could down it like a drug, you enthralled in his sexual energy… An ecstatic feeling blooming like knots in your stomach and acquainting many unfamiliar parts of you that you never knew were there. Nearly knocked out of air, your vision becomes hazy as he fucks you through your orgasm, past the point where you're crying two octaves higher than you're used to.

Geto has never seen his wife come so hard like that. As if he finally awakened her inner whore, overtaking the pleasure instead of surrendering to it just to soothe her. Oh, she wanted more. She wanted to make it hurt. Make her lose her mind. It made his cock throb when he could see how greedy you really were, how you were so writhed with lust and addicted to the drunken-like feeling when you orgasm all over his cock. As much as he wanted to be the gentle dom he always was to his wife, something about tonight and the exchange of energy in the kitchen made him wild. He was hungry. He was ravenous…

I’ve never felt this way before, he thought to himself. As if my wife bewitched me or something…

If only the poor man knew. Because for the next few days and nights at the Suguru residence, things started feeling different.

Specifically with his wife.

Sure, your sex life together has improved ever since the sex therapy sessions with Doctor Y/N. He was able to indulge in some of his fantasies, including his wife’s. But sometimes it would get out of control; less intimate, less emotional, and more of a way to “get each other off” kinda thing. It wasn’t sex or making love… It was just fucking. He wanted this to be a balance between the passion and roughness. But it was leaning too far into roughness...

Aside what’s been going on in the bedroom, he started taking note of all the small mannerisms and things you do again. Recounting the time of how you started falling asleep way later than him now. The time you reorganized your beauty products and stopped using majority of them, which is unusual because you were obsessed with those specific makeup brands. Even your style and fashion taste is a tad bit different now, especially when you’re off to work— A little more provocative, he would describe. And the fact that you were suddenly all spiritual and astrological, which is extremely odd since that’s one of Geto’s expertise and his wife was unfamiliar with it.

You were never this… bold or outgoing. Out and about in public, you’d be so engaging, eloquent, and confident; the traits of an independent, feminine woman. It may be astonishing to see you’re out of your comfort zone, but seeing this behavior come out of nowhere rather than gradually made him overthink. It was like a light switch where the personality he fell in love with completely reformed itself in just a mere second. You don’t even drink that much either, until, Geto came home one night to you drinking tequila. He knew that too much would make his wife throw up, but taking it away from you suddenly stirred up an argument.

“The Hell’s wrong with you? Why are you acting so weird, lately?” he chided.

“What do you mean I’m being weird? I’m your wife, for fuck’s sake. This is how I normally am!”

“You know that your alcohol tolerance is low with tequila. Give it to me. You’re drunk!”

Your body temperature is even different when you’re cuddling together that it concerned him. And the fragrance you wear that he was so addicted to began to change as well. It was unsettling to even think of or witness, but then again, he kept constantly gaslighting himself that you’re really his wife. Physically the same, like her eyes, hair, face, body, and all... Nothing really changed about your appearance except for the new hairstyles you do and the attires you wear now. You stuck with your regular routine and schedule, knew how everything in the house works, remembered important dates, car payments and all that… There wasn’t anything out of order pertaining to physical matters.

But this gut feeling he endured four weeks ago when you came home on the 28th just couldn’t stop churning in him… There’s a fear that hides in a corner of his brain. Deeper than what he overthinks, like his intrusive thoughts.

No. Couldn’t be.

Why would I think such a thing about her?

He studied his wife again, who was napping right on his lap. Your face remained nonchalant and emotionless as you slept, which was also odd. Usually she would have her lips slightly perched apart as she’s deep in slumber, softly breathing. Sound asleep just like a baby that makes him want to plant kisses all over her precious face. But now you look like you don’t want to be bothered or woken up.

Then he found himself staring at the photos hung on the wall. Their wedding pictures, their anniversaries, vacations, and family gatherings all made him oddly nostalgic, like he’s never going to experience these precious moments of time ever again. He kept staring at his wife on the photos; timid, shy, but undeniably adorable. He really brought the best out of her as she did for him as well. But why does it feel like the woman on the photos is not the same woman laying on his lap right now?

I can’t be having thoughts like this, he panicked. I don’t want to have thoughts like this.

That’s my wife. I married her.

Why would she be any different?

More time had passed, and Geto’s gut feeling kept scorching in him like an endless flame. Because it wasn’t just this bottomless pit of anxiety swirling in his stomach. An irrational fear, fairly similar to paranoia and anxiety, like something or someone is watching him. Keeping him close by. Prompting him to keep looking back over his shoulder, or feel his skin crawl during the nights he struggles to fall asleep over this bullshit.

There were some unsettling nights with his wife. As if her presence, her aura, everything about her energy resonated to him as… caution. Eerie, abnormal, grim. When he first met his wife, she was a sweetheart, a delicate woman; the moment she steps into the room, his body would blossom with unending ecstasy and rapture. He was smitten, madly in love. It made him want to protect her, to hold her all day, to devote himself to her forever… But now he feels the need to shield himself, to keep some distance away from her, and try not to “provoke” her like she’s a deadly predator that’s keeping her prey hostage, ready to strike at any minute. And even though he tried communicating to her about what he feels, it was straight to rough make-up sex. But her strange, erratic behavior still never changes…

Give me a sign, universe, if my gut feeling about my wife is correct…

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

There really was no other way.

It’s a sad reality that people can just change in a snap of a finger. Watching the people that you sincerely care for and love the most just become a whole different person is gut-wrenching and agonizing to bare. Geto couldn’t handle this. He couldn’t understand how this all happened, completely changing the course of the beautiful future him and his wife planned together.

It was impossible to put his finger on. Was his wife really putting on a facade this whole time around him? No. He never questioned anything about her until now and it freaked him out. Seeing her change and act like a whole other person in over a span of a few weeks was just impractical. But at the same time, he couldn’t keep lying to himself anymore.

He had his bags ready with everything he needed just to get away for a couple of days. There was obviously that lingering regret that he might be making the wrong choice. But he was a man that always trusted his gut; never has he ever endured this feeling of every nerve of his body being on high alert. Frozen, tangled in a heap of himself. But because his body had failed him, his mind bears the weight. Like speeding through every option, every possible source of control.

Once you left to go buy food, he was ready to go. Driving far away to the finished lakehouse which is one of the properties he owns, but never took his wife yet since it was under construction for a few months. Never looking back, trying so hard not to dwell on his emotions. His wife’s attitude, behavior, actions… everything was all elusive to him. The way it invaded his mind was the sign all along— a warning, rather. And then there’s this paralyzing belief that led him to his intrusive thoughts, like an insane theory that she is someone else, someone new living in her skin, taking over her body…

My wife is gone. Someone killed her.

That was the mindset he forced himself to conjecture. The drive was two and a half hours, and even though he believed that he left everything behind with no trace, there was that same symphony of paranoia causing a cacophony in his mind. That dreadful feeling of being followed or watched when he leasts expects it. The sinking feeling of making the wrong choice and it was all in his head. His anxiety would even skyrocket if a black Audi, the car his “wife” drives, started following him for more than five minutes.

She’s gone. She’s not coming back.

When he finally made it to the lake house, he was absolutely lost. He’s never felt this alone without the love of his life. He knew that his life, his body, his soul would be devoid without her, and it felt as if he had been grieving, still in denial about what happened. He just couldn’t let her go, but then again… that’s not the same woman he met four years ago.

She’s not going to find you here, he promised himself. Stop being paranoid now. It’s over. She’s gone.

The sunset radiated a soft glow right through the wide windows, feeling his body soothe from all that nausea-induced anxiety and paranoia. Reconnecting with nature; that was exactly what he needed the most. Reveling in the crisp breeze and the lingering scent of pine trees, Autumn was the season that he associated his wife with. Consuming everything pumpkin flavored, raking the orange and yellow leaves littering their yard, being able to wear her favorite sweaters again…

Stop reminding yourself of her. She’s dead.

As he was meditating and alleviating himself with tea the past few minutes, it was already nightfall. The stars were sloshing behind moldy gray clouds. The moon was a waning gibbous, shyly peaking from the shadows with one of its symmetrical sides. He needed to relish in this beautiful moment of tranquility and let himself go from reality.

But it wasn’t until the loud caw of a crow from nearby startled him, perched right on the balcony’s railing just to stare into his eyes. Too enervated from the situation, he ignored it and just went back inside, locking all the doors and windows and closing the blinds. So much pain weighing down on his heart to bear, clinging to his skin like static and stalking him like his own shadow. He was tired. He wanted to sleep. He needed all the time in the world to be alone.

But those damn crows outside the house wouldn’t shut up. He can hear them swarming in groups through trees, followed by the cool winds rustling the leaves. The sounds of nature began to exasperate him along with the ticking of the clock in his room, preventing him from drifting off to sleep. It made his stomach twist and ache again, thinking that the outdoor noises were something else in a remote location like this. Animals? Intruders…?

His heart dropped down into his stomach again. Distressed and unsettled, like anticipating trauma, it was back to the point he had to keep looking over his shoulders, wary as ever. He didn’t know if this was real or a nightmare. With every tick of the clock his stomach falls sick, causing his heart vessel to stretch, pump, and rush to survive.

He’s never known the true feeling of terror in all his life. Psychological torment, anguish, a fight-or-flight moment… He holds his breath as he slipped off the bed and saunters warily downstairs to the kitchen and slipped out the largest knife from the wooden knife holder. He can sense that someone’s here already, feel the presence of some being closing in on his ears and neck. After all the shit he endured the past couple weeks, he let his underlying aggravation seep instead of his paranoia, cluthing the handle of the knife tighter. He was ready to strike at any minute, at any second he sees or feels something unusual in the house.

He checked the front door. Still locked. Everything downstairs remained the same as it was when he arrived, nothing out of place or unusual. It was dark outside, but the moonshine was luminous enough to gleam through the blinds. The sounds of nature became prolonged-silence, the tension so thick it was impossible to slice through. He decided to head back upstairs, still wielding the knife in his hand. If everything was really fine, and there were no signs of breakage or intruders rummaging in any areas of the house… how the Hell was his “wife” sitting so gracefully on his bed, the moment he turned on the lights?

His heart raced like wildfire after seeing you, pounding loudly in his ears. He could feel his own blood being forced through his veins with every loud thump from such unimaginable, staggering fear. You slant your head at him with a small smirk, dressed in a pink silk robe with nothing underneath. Your hands propped beside you, arching your back and folding your legs to show your skin underneath. He remembers his wife wearing that silk robe when they were on honeymoon, which adorned her figure so beautifully… But nothing about this was beautiful or even an attempt to seduce him— he had tempered rage. Fear. Bewilderment. Anger. Frustration. You see it all like a flint behind his eyes, a surging storm taking over.

“Is that how you greet your wife? Holding a knife in your hand like that?” you coaxed, slanting your head at him with a cocky smile it pissed him off.

“You are not my wife,” Geto spat out, pointing the knife at your expressionless self. He cautiously ambles closer towards the bed, feeling his heart beat erratically. “Who are you!?”

The question made her stifle her laugh. She stood up from the bed and Geto backed up, clutching tightly on the knife’s handle he could feel his palms become clammy.

“I’m your wife, Suguru. I’ve always been your wife. We’ve known each other ever since Satoru introduced you to me—“

“You’re not!” he chastised. “You’re not… my—“

“Oh, but I am. You married me in November last year in Thailand. And we had our honeymoon in Malaysia. Remember when I wore this for you?”

Geto’s nose flared as he held back tears, feeling his throat ache as if he was being choked by barbed wire. “Stop. Just— just fucking tell me who you are. I know that you’re not her. Stop fucking lying to me. You’re not the same!”

“And if I wasn’t?” she piqued. “Imagine how terrifying that would be if I really wasn’t your wife all along. Now put the knife down.”

His jaw clenched harder, glaring down at you.“That won’t be happening. I know witchcraft when I see it— what the fuck did you do to her!?”

“You’re fucking insane.” You deadpanned at him as if he offended you, your gesture switching from tender and endearing to menacing, like you were ready to strike him on sight. It made his heart leap.

“Don’t you want a wife who’s not so fragile? Not so delicate and shy and… timid? Knows how to defend herself, knows how to act like an independent woman?” You ambled much closer and Geto was rendered frozen, flinching slightly when you whispered in his ear, “A wife who can fulfill all those dirty fantasies of yours and keep our sex life healthy?”

“She’s not— I don’t need—“

“Yes. You do. I can’t imagine myself living in your shadow all the time. That was our tiny, little flaw in our marriage. Acting as if I don’t have a mind of my own and can’t make smart decisions for myself. Now, you…” your tone falls sharper, channeling up your frustration to roughly push him against the wall so abruptly that the knife slipped from his hands. “What you did tonight, Suguru… Running away from me before our wedding anniversary, leaving our wedding ring on the table, abandoning me as if I was nothing to you… makes me think you’re ungrateful for everything I’ve done. For you, for us, for our marriage.”

Geto felt an uncontrollable ache scorching in his body from this foreign feeling of despair and hopelessness— once again, terror had struck him. The way his body and mind reacts is something he never experienced in his life until now, until the last few weeks, until his “wife” ruined his life…

“No, that was— Please—“ he stammered, gasping when your hand clutches around his throat and roughly pinning him against the wall.

“Don’t make me hurt you, Suguru,” you chided breathlessly. “Our marriage was supposed to be perfect! I did everything I could to fix myself as a wife. And because you didn’t like it, you ruined everything.”

He struggled fighting your suffocating grasp, trying to speak but some words got caught in his throat. When he first heard the phrase, “a woman is no man’s peace,” he hardly believed that would be the case with his wife until tonight.

“I’m— I’m so— sorry—“

When you let go of his throat so abruptly, he fell to his knees, gasping and coughing heavily as he was trying to catch his breath. Never has he ever thought of putting his hands on his wife. Never has he seen it coming from her that she would be the first to hurt him, to put her hands on him. It made him frazzled, penting up all the pain and ache that will never go away. He stared at the floor, swimming in regret and fear until he found the knife sitting under the bed.

“I— I made a mistake,” he breathed out, gazing up at you on his knees as he slowly inched near his bed. “I’m sorry. I was scared. It’s a pathetic, coward excuse of a husband like me. But we can go home, we’ll— we’ll pretend this night never happened. I won’t tell anyone— Please, love. Let’s just go home…”

You slanted your head again and scoffed. “Won’t tell anyone?”

Who is there even to tell?

“If you just want me… for my money or for sex,” he grunted, “It’s fine, I— I just really wanna go home and… be there for you. Fix our marriage together. Live our life together until we die. I’ll even give you my kids.”

“Kids?”

High on adrenaline, Geto grabbed the knife and sliced it through her leg with a grunt, emitting an agonizing shriek from you. As you wailed in pain and screamed at him furiously, he scrambled on his feet and ran as fast as he could downstairs and out the door. Cursing at himself for not grabbing the car keys, his body was still high on alert and adrenaline, urging him to run towards the dark woods where he could hide temporarily until she’s out the house. It was a dangerous, stupid situation he put himself into— but at least he knew some of the neighbors nearby where he could get help. All he had to do was run and never look back, just how he did before.

As he was making his way through the woods, panting heavily and constantly looking back at his shoulders, he tripped over something hard on the dirt and fell into a pit that was hidden behind bushes. Groaning in pain and trying to regain his stability, he tried analyzing where he had fallen, until, something macabre caught his eye.

Doctor Y/N. His sex therapist. Her dead, soulless body laying right in the pit he fell into.

He finally fathomed his true demise. His eyes widened in horror from this inescapable, indescribable terror burning his brain like acid. As if his heart wasn’t erratically thundering and pounding in his chest already, his pulse kept rapidly accelerating and accelerating until he felt like passing out. It took him awhile for this all to register, all to make sense in the nightmare he’s currently living. And for the first time in his life, he screamed bloody murder.

The crows cawing loudly within the trees blended with his scream. You were already caught up with him despite your injury, looking down at your old body and then at Geto who was in distress, which you found hilarious. Now you finally have him wrapped around your finger after understanding the situation— if only the desperate man had listened to you before.

“Oh, Suguru. Did you kill your therapist and bury her near your lakehouse?” you chuckled in amusement. “Try running from me again. If you do… I might as well tell the police that you killed Doctor Y/N…”

┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

[RIDE ANNOUNCER] Please remain seated until the ride comes to a complete stop. Then collect your belongings, watch your head, and step carefully out the vehicle. Don’t forget to dispose your 4D glasses at the bins before you exit. On behalf of all of our crew, thanks for riding with us, and we hope you have a happy and memorable visit here at Horrorland!

ALL WORKS BELONG TO VILSOO © 2023. do not steal, plagiarize, translate, or repost/share any of my works on any social media where minors have access. art by shono on deviantart ♥︎

𖤐 TAGS. @kyumimii @crysugu @red-velvet-moth-hearts @atinystaypixie @rinshoe @justmaragudytha @apwing @mqfuyuu @1tslilithh @arikomot0si @strawberrymilk4k @tojigasam @strvwberrymilk @shycoffeetaco @honeybeegoburrr8 @killzenin @ackachii @xxhamtara @ecstaacy @migueloharacumslut @hayati17 @palefuckinghost @nanananamiiii @shoyosdoll @blackhoodlea @rodeo-star @dollicries @hehehehesthings @oneofthesevensins @jaennii

inspired by the horror fic “dead ringer” by emphemeron, t0bemadeofglass, the lemonade poems by warsan shire, and slightly inspired by Multiverse of Madness.

[mcmansionhell]

a fine selection of bonker facades from the DC suburbs

Howdy folks! In honor of Halloween, here are some of the scariest houses currently for sale in the ever-cursed suburbs of Washington, DC. It's been awhile since I checked in on this particular hotspot, and once more, it did not disappoint.

I'll just get this one out of the way. Long-time McMansion Hell-heads are well aware of this monster estate in Potomac, MD, once allegedly owned by a particular professional athlete who will not be named, because the house should suck on its own merit. The only nice thing I can say about this house is that the designers kept the materials and colors consistent, which adds some unity to what is, in reality, five turrets in a trench coat.

Some things, the economists tell us, are too big to fail. This is not one of them. Let's move on.

Many McMansions exist to mock the concept of architectural consistency and historical continuity. This is one of them. About every single type of expanded second-story window elaboration exists here: bay window, covered balcony, juliet balcony. None of them work. The house can't decide if its 19th century eclecticism or tony DC Georgian/Federal cocktail. The random cupola merely adds insult to injury.

I don't know where realtors learned how to do photoshop, but whoever taught them should have their Adobe licenses revoked. There's a certain type of McMansion I call a "hat house" - which is exactly what it sounds like. It's a house with multiple bays or masses and each has its own special hat. This is one of the most egregious examples because all of the hats are different shapes and scales. Not even the most Disney Theme Park pink sky and fairy lighting can mitigate the controlling aesthetic influence of hät.

No compilation of Bad Facades would be complete without at least one Frankentudor™. Rich people in America really like to harken back to the days of feudalism, yet uglier, more drab, and using materials mostly derived from petrochemicals. The lighting is not helping this house, which is about as gloomy, hulking, and bloated as they come.

I have some fondness for houses that derive new, inventive forms of being ugly. The spread eagle McMansion is one of them, two oblique wings with no real core. A corner lot specimen. This one is especially weird, with the quadruple portholes, the windowless bays, the mall foyer, and the hipped roof that's not quite clipped, complete with tacked on gables. Kind of neat, sad to say.

I know most of you won't agree, but I actually believe this is the worst McMansion of the set. The absolute banality of it, the out-of-proportion everything, the compound-like demeanor, the nonsensical spacing of the mind-numbingly identical windows. The most infuriating part is that whoever designed this had some kind of order, continuity, proportion in mind and just failed utterly at it, like Sideshow Bob stepping on all those rakes. I hate it!!!!

When rich people try to make overly-inflated temples to their dumb piles of money, it's deeply satisfying when they end up looking like this house, which is just a pile of roof and wall tacked on to the worst proportioned portico imaginable. Classic McMansion Hubris. Let us all laugh.

Now we're getting into the more eldritch horror part of the list. Some houses make me wonder if I have the same set of eyeballs and conceptions of what "a house" looks like as other people. This one is playing dress up games with foam stickers. It looks like Steve's shirt from Blues Clues. It abuses the prairie muntins, which is an insult to my chosen hometown of Chicago, Illinois. Bad house.

Not enough time is devoted on this blog to bad modernism, though it would be rather generous to call this house modern. It's more like postmodernism trying to remember what modernism looked like and tripping down a flight of stairs collecting random masses and windows on the way down. Houses like this give modern architecture a bad name. It's borderline libel. Also it looks like it was made out of cardboard.

This brings us to our final, and objectively worst house:

I don't even know what to say about this freak of architecture. I don't know how it came together or why. I don't know what it wants or even pretends to do. It is a horrorshow. Gables protruding from random places, stealth roof fragments, windows too small for the walls they're embedded in, a weird cathedral-like entrance, the mosquito-infested pond, the worst example of realtor sky I've ever seen, all of it is terrible. It's haunted. Trick or Treat, but without the treat.

Anyway, that does it for this installment. If you're curious about more McModern badness, this month's Patreon bonus post will be to your liking!

Happy Halloween and Día de Los Muertos!

If you like this post and want more like it, support McMansion Hell on Patreon for as little as $1/month for access to great bonus content including extra posts and livestreams.

Not into recurring payments? Try the tip jar, because media work is especially recession-vulnerable.

[giantmushyfriend]

Welcome back to the Ineffable lyric discussion (can I hear a wahoo)

In honor of the announcement of season 3 of our beloved Good Omens, I find it completely necessary for us to discuss one of the many songs on Aziraphale and Crowley's angelic playlist that made me scream my bloody head off. One of those songs is the one and only The Book of Love by Peter Gabriel. While I UNDERSTAND this song may have just been chosen to spell out SEASON THREE, I think it goes much deeper than that because of all of the parallels it draws to Aziraphale and Crowley. And ultimately, what I think is going to happen in terms of their relationship when they finally sort their shit out. So beware if you haven't watched season 2 of Good Omens because we're about to do a fucking DEEP DIVE into this.

First, the title of the Book of Love feels almost like a call to this looming threat to the Book of Life that was consistently used in series 2. The entire season, Crowley and Aziraphale have to work oh so carefully because with the Book of Life being confirmed, they know that either of them could get the other erased, and whether they want to admit it or not, losing the other is their biggest fear. We've seen this when Crowley believed Aziraphale to be dead in Series 1 when he couldn't feel Aziraphale's presence anymore since he got incorporated. When Aziraphale isn't there, Crowley is a mess. Likewise, we saw how both reacted during the ineffable divorce scene in series 2. Crowley is full-on begging Aziraphale to stay, and Aziraphale has finally admitted that he needs Crowley and full-on mouths for Crowley not to leave him. The Book of Life inherently, from how Neil set it up, feels threatening. The Book of Love, on the other hand, raises an entirely other reaction. Throughout the series, as corny as it sounds, love has been what grounds our protagonists. It is the love of Tadfeild and his friends that keeps Adam from kickstarting the end of the world; it's what keeps him from rejecting his father, the literal devil. It is the love of the earth, of humanity and all its strange creations, and for each other that keeps Aziraphale and Crowley attempting to prevent the end of the world when it could be so much easier to just accept the fate of it all. Love is the key theme that grounds our protagonists, that makes them tick. Love is safe; love is, at times, painful but overall kind. So when we see this title on their playlist, listed amongst heartwrenching tales of grieving a relationship, you could have had, and of loss, it brings a sense of salvation and safety. The Book of Love, unlike the Book of Life, is not a threat- it's a sanctuary for Aziraphale and Crowley.

Now, diving into the lyrics.

"The book of love is long and boring

No one can lift the damn thing

It's full of charts and facts, and figures, and instructions for dancing

But I

I love it when you read to me.

And you

You can read me anything"

The first couple of verses inherently feel like Aziraphale and Crowley's original view on this notion of love. As two supernatural entities who aren't bound by human emotion or logic, love may seem superficial and downright silly at times. The courting procedures that different societies have taken on throughout the centuries and the songs and dances that come along with it may all seem like a big waste. The book of love is a manifestation of love itself, and originally, it seems unappetizing to our protagonists. That is until they refind each other, and love goes from this thing that humans feel and jump through hoops for to this tidal wave of emotions. Love felt silly and unrealistic before, but with each other, they are willing and excited to explore it, even if it comes with things that feel inherently silly.

Also, these verses draw some cute parallels to headcanons and features of cannons. If you've been involved in the Good Omens fandom long enough, you've probably stumbled across the idea that Crowley asks Aziraphale to read to him for a multitude of different reasons. Some people say it's because his eyes aren't meant to read, one of the many punishments that came with him being cast down from grace, or maybe it's just because he finds Aziraphale's voice comforting. Additionally, the line about instructions for dancing is just so heartwarming when we look at the ball scene from this past season and Aziraphale's daydreams of a romance worthy of a Jane Austin novel.

"The book of love is long and boring

And written very long ago

It's full of flowers and heart-shaped boxes

Adn things we're all too young to know

but I

I love it when you give me things

and you

You ought to give me wedding rings"

I'm sure we've all heard this idea that you'll understand love when you get older, but even when you get older, it never seems to make sense. This idea that love is too old for any of us to truly understand, and that humbles us but in the best way possible. There is no point in trying to figure out what exactly love is because you could spend thousands of years feeling it and watching it happen all around you and still not know exactly what it is besides this all-encompassing feeling. And that is exactly the perspective of Aziraphale and Crowley. They have seen countless examples of love, true, unwavering love, and they have felt it for each other. And yet they themselves cannot begin to fathom what love, true unconditional love, is exactly. These two supernatural, ethereal/occult beings are humbled by the very concept of love like humans are- and that love is drawn from each other.

And then there is this notion of giving, which pairs so well with Crowley's primary love language, acts of service and gift giving. If the first chorus was Crowley talking about how he loves it when Aziraphale reads to him and takes care of him, then this is Aziraphale talking about how Crowley displays his love. And this final notion of asking for that final commitment, one of the key ways humans express their love for each other, is just amazing. Because in a way, Aziraphale moving to make this commitment, to fully be on their side in this way, is the resolution we have been wanting since the beginning. For Aziraphale to finally feel safe enough to let go and finally let himself settle to where he finally belongs, on his side with Crowley.

[evilminji]

The Anti-Ecto Acts... could literally start WW3

I am sitting here, contemplating China. The country. Literally one of THE OLDEST countries. With a truely massive population. And... I will admit my ignorance. But from what I have heard? They are big on honoring the Dead.

Their Dead.

The Dead of China. Hundreds of millions of souls. Which, statistically, would mean the average human ghost has a good chance to come from the region. And they are not alone.

Again, my ignorance curses me, but if my general knowledge is to be believed? It is a common practice in Asianic Countries. Oh sure, they won't argue there might be BAD ghosts. But that's to be expected! There are bad PEOPLE! They die.

They have monks and priests for such things. Specialists. Ancient problem, tried and true solutions. They move on and have lunch, consider what options there are for dinner. Business of the day and all that.

But THEN.

Fanatics from the West. Painting themselves as Men Of Science, not only dare to play god, but tear open a hole to THE AFTERLIFE? And start ATTACKING indiscriminately? They stand before an international stage and spew clearly bigoted pseudoscience, to justify their genocide, while ALSO letting God's and demons run roughshod over the WORLD, just so they can try to convince everyone they have the right to MURDER YOUR ANCESTORS?

They OPENED THAT GATE! They LET THEM OUT! There is a difference, culturally, for many of your countries between the soul of a dead man (powers be damned) and a SPIRIT OF LIVING STORMS.

You are not IDIOTS. Tigers are dangerous. Wolves are dangerous. But someone walking into a crowded mall and releasing frightened wild animals DOES NOT mean we go into the wilds and start killing! We charge the madmen you attacked innocent people!

The fact that tigers and wolves are dangerous IS NOT NEW. The fact that the souls of the dead are dangerous is ALSO not new! It is not malicious. It is INHERENT. A state of being. That is why they are not encouraged to linger! We love them, but this world is not built for them. It is fragile and barren, built for the living.

But dear sweet FUCK, the WROTH.

How? Many countries EXACTLY. How many religions? SPECIFICALLY honor and protect the dead. Declare in no uncertain terms, the SANCTITY of the soul?

How many people have LOST somebody? A friend, a lover, a CHILD.

And in one breath you give them hope then THREATEN it? "They may still be out there... we are going to brutally torture them to death. Because your loved ones are animals to us."

The UN would have the SINGLE most ugly, barely contained, riot imaginable. Spiritual Leaders would be tearing CHUNKS out of the US. The Pope, the Dalai Lama, you name it. You can NOT invade THE AFTERLIFE and not have it IMMEDIATELY become a religious concern.

Not to mention the international SAFETY concern. One countries actions? Unleashing beings that can effect the GLOBAL ECOSYSTEM? The ENTIRE planets weather? Plunged EVERYONE into Eternal Sleep??! How can that not be considered DILBERATE after the first one!

Your grand idea is to ANTAGONIZE them? Make MORE of them come through??

"Kill death itself". You fanatical NUTJOBS! That's not even a NEW hypothetical! That ends HORRIFICLY for literally EVERYONE. Eternal starvation, suffocation, crushing, and worse! We suck the planet dry, over populate so horrifically we end up BURIED UNDER OUR OWN CHILDREN, and suffer FOREVER without the release of death!

You fucking MORONS! Eternal life is a well known CURSE!

Their science is shaky at best, hardly peer reviewed. DEEPLY unethical. And clearly dangerous! Radioactive!!! In a population center?! How many innocent people have been exposed!?

And if the Ghost are reaching OUT? Imagine meeting long dead countrymen, who come to you fearing for their very SOULS. Who have lived in peace. Unknown to you, for CENTURIES. Who beg you, in YOUR native tounge, to help. Talks of people disappearing. Fear and desperation.

This is not to say world leaders are great and benevolent figures, free of greed or sin. Nor their governments. But it is quite another thing entirely, when they talk... and all you can think is "you are talking about my dead father. My late wife. My deceased son."

When they spew their HATE. And back hand your loved ones by doing so.

What powerful person has not lost SOMEBODY.

All this? And I have not even TOUCHED on the shit storm DC would add on top. The Drama? The IMMEDIATE near certain SMITING? You want to MURDER Superman's FAMILY??? I'd say pick a god and pray, but you've already made enemy of ALL of them.

So... good luck and get fucked?

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @stealingyourbones @nerdpoe

[roach-works]

for all its (apparently many?) flaws, i really enjoyed the fallout show, and i'm ride or die for maximus, obviously. but one of the things i enjoyed about lucy's arc isn't that she wasn't necessarily proved RIGHT or WRONG about her own moral code, she didn't learn that either kindness is its own reward or that niceness is suicidal in a fight for survival.

what she learned, i am pretty sure, is that context matters. you can't actually help people if you don't know anything about them. you can't enact justice if you don't know what the case on trial is. you can't come in out of nowhere and make snap decisions and be anything more than one more complication in a situation that was fucked up long before you were born.

that's what we see over and over: she comes in out of nowhere, she makes an attempt to help based on her immediate assumption of what's going on, and then everything continues to be dangerous and complicated and fucked up. she doesn't let the stoners explain that some ghouls will genuinely try to eat you the minute they get the chance, and she pays for it. she jumps to the wrong conclusion in vault 4 because not everyone who looks like a monster IS a monster, and she pays for it. yeah a lot of the time cooper is abusing her for his own satisfaction, but when she's a free agent she's a loose canon and it's not because the show is punishing her for TRYING to do the right thing. it's because the show is punishing her for jumping to conclusions.

this show gets a lot of laughs from Fish Out Of Water situations, but i think that even though cooper explicitly says "you'll change up here and not for the better, you'll become corrupted and selfish just to survive" that's not the real message. what lucy learns is how important it is to hear people out, meet them where they're at, and get the full story.

that's why the final confrontation with her father is so important. she hears everyone out. she gets the full story. she listens to all of it. and then she acts with full knowledge of situation. that's what the wasteland taught her: not to be cruel, not to be selfish, but that taking the time to understand what's actually going on really matters.

this is a show that's incredibly concerned with truth and lies. everyone is lying to each other and themselves. scenes change over and over as they're recontextualized. love and hate and grief and hope are just motives in a million interconnected shell games, not redeeming justifications. maximus's many compounded falsehoods are approved of by his own superior, who finds a corrupt pawn more useful than an honorable one. cooper finds out his wife has her own private agenda and this betrayal keeps him going for centuries. lucy's entire society is artificial and from the moment they find out they're not safe and maybe never have been, all the vault dwellers are scrambling to deal with that.

ANYWAY. i just think it's neat. sci fi is a lens to analyze our present through a hypothetical future, and i think it's pretty significant for this current age we live in, where we're all grappling with misinformation, conspiracy theories, propaganda, and deepfakes, there's a huge anxiety over how hard it can be to find the truth out about anything. i think the show suggests that it's always worth the work to try.

[niqhtlord01]

Humans are weird: Accidental Extinction

( Please come see me on my new patreon and support me for early access to stories and personal story requests :D https://www.patreon.com/NiqhtLord Every bit helps)

Being weak in militaristic capabilities the people of the Calex Confederacy would have been conquered several centuries ago were it not for their impressive intellect.

From the collective minds of their greatest robotic labs and the hottest furnaces of their mighty foundries they gave birth to the CRX 9000 war machine. It the most advanced robotic military platform in the known galaxy and swiftly became the primary model used for the Calex Confederacy military.

Unlike previous war machines that would be limited to a preprogrammed set of actions and reactions the CRX 9000 was created with an advanced capacity to learn and adapt. With every encounter the CRX would study its opponents, learning from their strengths and weaknesses, tactics, and even their genetic capacity for biological weaknesses.

With this new weapon in their arsenal the Calex were able to resist several potential aggressors during their history by rival galactic powers. Each attack would see initial gains for the aggressor on a handful of worlds before coming to a standstill; at which point the CRX’s will have learned enough about their enemies to launch successful counter attacks and drive out the aggressors.

Strangely enough the Calex were never interested in expanding past their original territories. They could have used the machines to conquer a great swathe of territory but despite all reason they were content to remain in their borders. The rest of the universe learned that it was for all their best interests if they just left them alone and so they did.

Eventually the Calex joined the galactic federation to the surprise of many. Many had assumed the Calex were heavily isolationist, but that nature only extended to the scope of their domain. The Calex themselves were very curious about the universe around them and wished to be a part of it.

Naturally being part of the galactic federation meant that when one member comes under attack all members would answer the call to aide them; both financially and militarily if needed. This was one of the main reasons the Calex had been approved for membership as several members had at one point or another been at war with the Calex and knew all too well how effective the CRX war machines could be.

This was put to the test when a small border skirmish broke out against the Televin Theocracy and the galactic federation member state of Yon Kingdom. The Televin argued that the Yon owed them hundreds of millions in credits after trade agreements were not honored. The Yon countered this claim by stating it was the Televin who had not honored the agreement by not delivering the requested goods and so they refused to pay.

Claim and counter claim went back and forth for some time until the Televin issued a statement. They would invade the Yon homeworld and forcefully claim funds and material until the debt is paid in full. No sooner had the declaration been made did a large scale Televin invasion force land on the Yon homeworld and it was occupied. In response the galactic federation task force was swiftly assembled and dispatched to the Yon homeworld to remove the occupying forces; including several dozen CRX war machines.

Several members were upset that the Calex had not invested more of their war machines. They had been expecting at least a couple thousand CRX’s which could have easily reclaimed the planet within a few months. Being somewhat unsure of their new ally’s intentions, the Calex had decided to only send a few of their war machines to see how the galactic federation would employ them.

With such minimal numbers it was decided by the federation leaders to split them up and embed them individually to detachments to reinforce their military capacity rather than consolidate them into a single strike force. The extra firepower would greatly improve the survivability ratio of each unit they were supporting. This was projected even further when the units selected were primarily from the terran union.

Though skilled warriors, the humans were biologically were deemed the frailest compared to the other species joining the task force. Lacking hardened exoskeletons, telekinetic capabilities, or even enhanced muscle reaction enhancers; they were considered meat sacks. Formidable warriors without question, but meat sacks all the same.

The campaign lasted two months before the Televin were repelled and driven from their final strongholds on the surface of the planet. It had been a grueling protracted war of attrition that had seen ten soldiers die for every foot of ground taken only to be lost hours later requiring another twenty soldiers deaths to reclaim. Each member race of the task force proved their worth in one way or another during the entire war and with its conclusion had been sent back home to their respective homeworlds.

Having been monitoring the daily reports from the start of the campaign the Calex were pleased to see that not a single CRX war machine had been felled and that all would be returning soon via a human troop carrier. The humans had been so grateful for the machines support during the conflict they considered this the very least they could do as a sign of gratitude to the Calex.

Little did the Calex know that the moment the troop carrier landed on the surface of their homeworld would mark the beginning of their species eventual extinction.

Boarding ramp wide enough to deploy two battle tanks abreast lowered with a slow groaning hum of hydraulics to the waiting Calex military and robotic advisors at the aerodrome. As they scraped the surface of the landing fields the ranks of the CRX’s slowly began descending the ramps and returning to their creators world in perfect military precision.

To the surprise of the gathered Calex the war machines had been modified to some extent that they had been unaware of.

Several of the machines now wore enlarged forms of human military uniforms decorated in camo patterns of greens and browns. Others wore decorative caps of a wide variety, both in shape and colors, with a few going so far as to have a large feather protruding from one side. One unit in wore a Shemagh that covered its entire head and upper body only leaving its red eyes visible.

As if that was not enough strangeness for Calex they took note that not all of the CRX’s were carrying their standard issue weapons. A number of the units carried oversized rifles that looked more akin to the turret of a human tank that had been removed and one Calex robotics engineer was appalled to see twin heavy gatling cannons crudely welded to each arm. Then there were the units in the front that carried no ranged weaponry at all and instead handled a wide variety of crude melee weapons such as swords or hammers. One was seen with a pair of metallic claw gauntlets that looked sharp enough to cut through a starship hull. Yet the most disturbing of all of these units was the designated leader of the contingent, MAK-395, that stood at the front of the ranks.

It still held true to its original weaponry and wore no strange human clothing or other trappings and looked down at the gathered Calex and saluted them. They hesitated to salute back for when they looked up at their creation they saw the bloody hand print of a human sprayed across its face plate.

When the humans shuffled down after the CRX’s the Calex immediately demanded explanations as to why their most prized machines had been returned to them in such a deplorable state. The human officers remarked that each machine had adapted alongside the human unit it had been assigned to during the course of the campaign. Many of the clothing and weapon choices seen were part of the core mentality of each human unit. They remarked with some pride to the units that boasted feathered caps that those units had proved themselves with such honor and bravery that they were awarded the feathers as a sign of respect by their human comrades.

These answers did little to placate the Calex who refused to believe that any species would regard mere machines with such attachments. They further demanded to know why MAK-395 had been not properly cleaned and still bore the signs of the war.

As the humans were about to answer it was instead MAK-395 that spoke first.

“My name is Nathan.”

The Calex looked on dumbfounded at their war machine as it spoke to them. Never before had a CRX spoken without first being prompted to or commanded to; yet this one had done just so.

“MAK-“ the Calex robotics engineer began before once more being interrupted by the machine.

“MAK-395 is dead.” It stated coldly. “I am Nathan Forest.”

The Calex looked at each other in bewilderment until a human officer stepped forward and spoke in a hushed tone.

“Nathan Forest was a human private that served alongside our metal friend here during the war.” He tilted his head towards the machine as her continued. “During a patrol they were ambushed and the private was wounded badly by a Televin cluster rifle. Our friend here carried him all the way back to base camp but by then he was already gone.”

“Nathan is not gone!”

The robot’s outburst surprised both the humans and the Calex. It now loomed over them as its red lenses glared down disapprovingly.

“He gave me his name, and as long as I still function Nathan Forest is not dead.”

“Apologies soldier,” the human remarked to the surprise of the Calex, “the war has left be confused on certain things.”

Seemingly placated the machine calling itself Nathan stepped back and resumed its post at the front of the CRX column.

“You speak to the machine as if it is alive?” one of the Calex remarked disapprovingly, “Has the war robbed you of your senses as well?”

“From what I’ve heard the two of them were nothing short of best friends on the battlefield,” the human replied with amusement, “and it did everything it could to bring him home. So yeah, I think our metal friend here has earned that much.”

With that remarked the human handed over a data file containing the entirety the human and CRX interactions for the war and promptly returned to the dropship. In an eerie silence the CRX machine head’s turned to watch the human as he ascended back the boarding ramp and turned to face them.

“It has been an honor and privilege to serve alongside your kind.” He spoke as the engines began to power up once more. He gave a crisp salute as the boarding ramp began to rise as the Calex watched in amusement. The human need for attachment was something they had heard of but one they had never expected to be real and was quite humorous to see firsthand. What was more surprising was when every CRX machine turned in unison and returned the salute in kind without a single order being given.

The human officer looked unphased by the reaction as the boarding ramps closed, but to the gathered Calex it was beyond their means of comprehension to understand.

Their machines were created to learn and adapt to situations but there had always been a limit to the extent of their development. In their dedicated years of usage they had never before displayed the kind of independent thought they had shown after a mere two months of interacting with humans.

At first the Calex believed that the humans must have altered the coding of the war machines in some manner and that this had been done to make them easier to interact with during the war. Each unit was sent to maintenance for a full diagnostic but the results showed no signs of outside intrusion.

MAK-395, or “Nathan Forest”, was given increasing rounds of overview as it seemed to have developed a functioning personality; a feat which many Calex robotic engineers had long since dismissed as impossible. Yet the unit could speak freely without prompting and could hold a conversation about a wide variety of topics. The one it seemed to circle back to most was around a human game called “Base Ball” which the original human Nathan Forest seemed to have spoken about frequently with when paired to MAK-395. Pulled memory files indicate that the human Nathan and his fellow human comrades had even invited MAK-395 to participate in the game during a lull in fighting.

Things did not take a turn for the worse until a technician attempted to wipe away the bloody hand print on MAK-395’s face plate during a routine cleaning. The unit stood up and positioned its head out of reach of the technician and refused to have it cleaned. Override codes were spoken and the technician demanded the unit bend down so it can be cleaned, but the unit refused to move. The unit stated that the handprint was the last thing he had of the original Nathan Forest to be remembered by and did not wish its removal.

Enraged by the unit’s refusal the technician raised a melting torch to the ceiling and set off the fire suppression system. Jets of water and gas filled the room before the unit could react and washed a portion of the handprint away while the technician laughed. Their mockery was cut short when the unit MAK-395 back handed the technician and sent them flying through a nearby window to plummet several stories to the ground below.

For the first time in history a CRX-9000 had intentionally killed one of its creators.

This moment of defining history though was soon overshadowed by the sudden and violent revolt of every single unit that had been deployed alongside the humans.

It had been recorded that on some level each unit was showing signs of some form of personality development, but it wasn’t until the incident with MAK-395 that they began acting violently. They saw the Calex as a threat intent on erasing them and responded in kind. Military bases that had been housing them quickly devolved into active warzones with many being cut down before they even realized what was happening.

Untainted CRX-9000 units were dispatched to contain the rogue units but to the Calex’s horror were soon converted into sentient machines as well. One by one the worlds of the Calex Confederacy were overrun by the very machines that they had created to defend themselves with. Strands of code were transmitted system wide ceasing all communication and travel within the Calex Confederacy as the CRX-9000 uprising systematically purged all Calex.

The records are sparse but it is assumed that the total extinction of the Calex species took over four months to complete. With the Calex isolationist tendencies the wider galaxy was unaware of the slaughter unfolding and would not learn of it until the next gathering of the Galactic Federation when in place of Calex representatives the unit Nathan Forest with what remained of his bloody hand printed face entered the chambers and took the seat that had been reserved for the Calex.

[antiquatedplumbobs]

Lupine Cottage

A CC Free Victorian Beachside Cottage

Lot size: 20x20 Price: §40,013 Lot type: Residential Location: Bedlington Beachhouse, Brindleton Bay

This build will be familiar to all of you who have downloaded Antiquated Brindleton, where it's previously been released as a cc-lite build. This build is really no fun to play without Romantic Garden, so in honor of it being free to download I wanted to release a cc-free version of it. It also gave me the chance to refresh it with some of the new assets we've gotten since then, and it's turned out so well.

This lot is potentially my favorite build I've ever done and I'm so in love with how it's turned out here. Even if you have the previous one, I'd certainly give this version a try, because humbly; I think it's better.

Background info and download under the cut:

I'm not sure how many of you will recognize this lot, or have already, but it's based off the cottage from the children's book Miss Rumphius, which tells the tale of the lupine lady who spreads lupine seeds along Maine's roadways in the early twentieth century. You can see the inspo pics below as well as a shot of lupines in Maine in the spring, where they really do look like someone rode around just throwing seeds as they went. I highly recommend the book for any history lovers the illustrations are beautiful.

Lupine's are unfortunately not native to Maine and are considered invasive, so loving them does come with a smidgen of guilt, but luckily we don't have that problem in Sims.

I picture this cottage as the perfect home for your loner, spinster characters, and that's exactly who lives there in my save. This lot is in some ways a love letter to Maine and Brindleton Bay as I see it. So please enjoy.

This build is appropriately furnished for the late nineteenth to early twentieth century; no indoor plumbing and lots of candles. It's really only suitable for one sim as built, but could probably be edited quite easily for a couple. Fully playtested.

Please, please, please tag me if you use this lot, it's got a special place in my heart.

SFS | Google Drive

Gallery ID: antiqueplumbobs

@publicvanillabuilds @twentiethcenturysims @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters

[jordyn14]

Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all | Joe Burrow

Summary: After a terrible start to a day that had such high hopes, two people do something that should lead to an even worse day, but in ends up better than it started.

Pairing: Joe burrow x first person fem reader

Words: 5058

Notes: this fic is kind of all over the place, but I didn’t want to split it up into 2 fics. I hope you enjoy!! <3

Taglist: @wickedfun9

The Bengals season was officially over following the win against the browns on January 7th, though we all knew it was over after the loss against the Chiefs on December 31 which kicked them out of playoff contention. In honor of adding another season into the books, Sam was hosting a little party for any player or friend of a player who wanted to come today. To say the day was not going great so far was the understatement of the century. First, as soon as I woke up in the morning, I stepped in some fresh poop from Mike, the cat I got Joe for his birthday, who apparently forgot where the litter box was. Because she's new-yes, she, Joe named her after Mike the Tiger at LSU-and I absolutely adore her, I shook it off and took a very in dept shower, making sure to scrub my feet extra good in order to rid myself of it completely.

Next, during breakfast, I was transferring my eggs onto my plate after putting some on Joes and the handle broke off of the pan and dropped onto my feet. The eggs went everywhere on the ground and were quickly eaten by Tucker, the dog Joe got me for Christmas, who flew in immediately after hearing the commotion to see what happened. I thought I was in the clear since two bad things happened to me in a span of an hour and a half-so what else could go wrong-but that was soon proven wrong when I was carrying Joe and I's pre-workout smoothie so we could get in a light workout together in the basement, and I tripped down the stairs. Not only did I spill the smoothie all over myself and the stairs, which made for an annoying clean up, but I also face planted, which made for an awesome bruise right on my jaw.

After that, I showered for the second time, drank the new smoothie Joe whipped up for the both of us, and we got in our little workout for the day. Once done with the workout, I took Tucker for a walk and went to the grocery to store to stock up on all of the necessities. While in the grocery store, I completely forgot that I was supposed to start my period, so I got blood all over my new jogging pants Joe gifted me for Christmas and had to buy a new pair of pants at the store, along with a pack of tampons, which weren't the ones I usually buy because, ironically, they were all out.

Finally, everything seemed to be going right for me and the day turned out pretty good, until it came time to get ready for Sam's party. I did my hair and my makeup without a single problem, but then of course when I put on my new dress that I was excited for, I put it on only for me to realize the zipper broke when I washed it. Because I was on my period and very hormonal, I started to cry. My mascara got all over my face and when I tried to wipe it off, my other makeup came off with it so I had to redo it all. Plus, while crying, Joe tried to comfort me, and because I was hormonal, I got mad and told him to get away from me. What made me cry more was that Since my new dress broke, I had to wear an old one that wasn't anywhere near as pretty as the other one.

So, now, as Joe pulled into the parking lot, I took a deep breath and prayed that this night wouldn't be a disaster like the whole day was. The party was at a little convention center in the middle of Cincinnati that has held frequent get togethers and parties in the past. Since this party symbolized the end of the season and it could be the last time some of the guys see each other, it was very special to so many of the guys. To make it even more memorable, Sam got Jeff Rubies to cater and he had one of his favorite bars set up a little bar. Because friends were invited as well, I was excited to see some of Sam's friends that I probably have not seen since college.

Once Joe put the car in park, he looked over at me with a sigh. Seeing him look at me in the corner of my eye, I looked over at him and we made eye contact. "Well here goes nothing, I guess. Let's hope this goes well." I said with a little defeated laugh, the both of us knowing how the day has been going for me. "Let's be optimistic, what's the worst thing that could happen, right? There's no stairs...that I know of." Joe said, and started to rack his brain in an attempt to try and remember if there are stairs at this place. I tried to remember with him, because if there were stairs, I was certainly doomed. "There aren't any stairs where the party is at-well, that we'll have to walk up anyway- there's an elevator leading up the floor we're on." I said, remembering exactly where the stairs and elevator were at.

Joe laughed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Y'know, it's kind of pitiful that we even had to think about that." Joe laughed. I laughed and nodded. It was extremely pitiful. Who would need to think about if they would have to go up stairs? Definitely not many people. "It is, but with the day I've been having, It's better to be on the safe side." I said. We chuckled a little bit together before Joe turned the car off. "Sha'll we?" Joe asked. "We sha'll." I giggled and opened up the door quickly. I stepped out of the car and then met Joe in front of the car. Because of my situation at home-having to redo my makeup-we were about 30 minutes late. Luckily Sam said not to worry because he has the place until midnight, then we're kicked out.

Joe and I walked inside together and got into the elevator. On the way up, we made funny faces in the mirror on one side of the elevator and then took a funny picture that I had to promise wouldn't be posted, which I have to do with every picture I take of him. By now, he should know I won't post them. For one, I know how private he is, and I am too, and for two, I would never share these moments with anyone, other than close friends who probably have the same kinds of pictures of him in their phones.

The elevator opened up with a little ding and revealed a huge and bustling room. People were scattered around across the whole room and there were orange, black, white, and striped decorations throughout the whole room. Immediately after hearing the elevator open up, the majority of Joe's teammates looked over to see who arrived, and when they saw Joe, they all began to hoop and holler and call out his name, excited to see him. With a smile, I let go of his hand and went to go find some of the wags, mainly Gracie and Tianna since both Holly and Morgan were out of town with their husbands.

It didn't take long for me to spot Tianna who was messing with Cody who had a far from amused look on his face. When Tianna spotted me, she immediately stopped annoying Cody and ran over to me excitedly. "Finally! It's been boring without you!" She yelled and hugged me. "Girl it's only been 30 minutes." I laughed. "Uhm...exactly." She said and emphasized it with her hands. I shook my head and laughed at her, continuing to look around at the little buffet Jeff Rubies set up and then the little bar in the far right corner. "So, what did I miss? Anything fun or crazy happen?" I asked, needing to be caught up on any of the tea that I missed while I was gone.

Tianna gave me a look and signaled for me to come and sit down at their table, so I followed. "It's not really with the team, but apparently one of Sam's friends just got cheated on. He's here and a bunch of people were talking about it when they first got here." She said. My mouth dropped open in interest and I looked round to make sure I didn't see Sam anywhere. "Who? Maybe I know him from college." I said. Tianna raised an eyebrow and looked at me with a small smile. Why was she looking at me like that? I raised my eyebrow back at her in confusion, needing her to tell me so I wasn't confused. "Did you sleep with some of Sam's friends or something?" She whispered with a little wink. "Women-shut the fuck up, she ain't like some of your friends." Cody said.

The three of us started to laugh at what Cody said, but she continued to look at me, still thinking I might've slept with some of them. "What-no, I have been with Joe since 12th grade and we didn't cheat. Now, show me." I said. "Okay okay." Tianna said quickly and began to scan the crowd to try and find whoever it was she was looking for. I looked with her and tried to see if I recognized some of the people, but I wasn't having any luck. So far, none of the people looked familiar except for the players and their wives or girlfriends. "Ooh- there." Tianna said excitedly and pointed at someone somewhat discretely so they didn't see. I followed her hand and spotted one of Sam's friends. I knew exactly who that was, and I wasn't too happy that he was here.

"I know him, that's Aiden." I said and took my eyes off of him. "Why do you say that in a bad way?" She asked me. Why was there a hint of attitude in my voice? Well, because Aiden and I were kind of friends back in college. This particular friend group of Sam's consisted of me, Joe, Sam, Jessica, todd, and Aiden. We were all good friends and always either studied together, went to football games together, or went out to parties together. From the very beginning, Aiden knew Joe and I were together and in a very closed, strong, and long-lasting relationship. But he just couldn't help himself from crushing on me. The crush got so big that he eventually confessed his feelings for me while drunk and tried to get me to cheat on Joe with him. To say he was persistent was an understatement and it happened more than once.

Of course I told Joe who told Sam. After that, Aiden didn't really hang out with us too much. "Let's just say he had a crush on me and wanted me to cheat on Joe with him." I said. Tianna let out a small gasp as she processed what I said and then looked at Aiden with a little scowl. "Well in that case, the jackass deserved it." She said with a little 'hmph'. I grabbed onto the drink I snagged from someone passing them out and held it up. "Now that's something I will fucking cheers to." I said with a little laugh. "Hell yes." Tianna picked up her glass and to her surprise, Cody picked up his as well. Tianna looked over at Cody, surprised that he was into this conversation since it was a girls conversation. "Really babe?" She asked. "Uhm...hell yes." Cody said. We all laughed a little at his reaction and then clinked our glasses together. After we clinked our glasses together, we each took a sip of our drinks.

We've been here for about an hour just hanging out with people and catching up, even though every single person that I'm good friends with on the team I've been texting. After Tianna, I made my way around to some other people before finally sitting down at a table with Ja'marr, Tee, and Sam. Joe was sitting down with us too until he left to go get him and I drinks at the bar.

"So, Mrs. burrow….” Ja'marr said and leaned back in his chair. I raised my almost empty glass to my lips and said a small, "Mr. Chase?", before taking a sip, trying to figure out what he was going to ask me. "What are the chances that baby Burrow makes an appearance this year?" Ja'marr asked me. I set my drink down and shook my head at him with a little laugh. From around the small table, Tee and Sam just listened to our conversation, who obviously were both aware of what Ja'marr was going to ask me before he said it. "Slim to none." I gave him a short and sweet answer, although I knew he would pry and want more from me. "And why is that? I mean come on, everyone else is doing it." Ja'marr said. "Unless I accidentally miss a birth control, which I never do, or by some miracle I just so happen to get pregnant, it's not gonna happen this year. Plus, I’m not everyone else." I said.

This has been an ongoing conversation between Ja'marr, Joe, and me for a while now. Ja'marr is fully convinced that it's time for Joe to knock me up, even though we disagree completely. "Come on, why? You've been married long enough." Ja'marr added in. "Some people have plans jackass." Sam added in. I looked over at Sam and pointed at him. Ding Ding Ding. "Exactly, thank you. We have had a plan for a long time, and a baby, while it's included in that plan, isn't listen for a long time." I said. Ja'marr just glared at me jokingly for a few seconds. Don't get me wrong, I wanted a baby and I would want one right now if not for football. Joe and I are at the perfect age to have children, but Joe is currently in his prime years of his career. It would be completely unfair to ask him to juggle being a new father and being an amazing quarterback all at once.

It felt like Ja'marr and I were having a staring contest. Both of us tried not to laugh or blink, until Tee interrupted. "I mean this with no disrespect, but If you don't want to get knocked up by Joe, I think that bartender over there will gladly volunteer." Tee said and signaled over to the bar. I turned my head in the direction he was signaling to. It only took me a few seconds to spot Joe who was standing at the bar. The bartender was mere inches away from a very uncomfortable looking Joe who kept trying to back away, but in a way that wasn't too noticeable. That boy was way too respectful. They were in mid conversation, and every time Joe would say something, she would laugh-a little too much- at whatever he was saying. I know Joe Burrow, and never have I once laughed that much during a simple conversation with him.

Now, unless he was making endless jokes, which I knew he wasn't because of his body language, that girl was just doing way too much. I glared at the two of them as they talked, a little annoyance and maybe anger building inside of me. I wasn't mad at Joe who was obviously trying to get away from her as she kept bombarding him. I was secure enough in my relationship with Joe, even though it took a while to get to that point. I was, however, mad at the girl who kept touching his arm and giving him flirtatious looks and laughs a little too often. Those flirty eyes were the same exact ones that I give Joe. I was mad at the girl's occasional glances at his wedding ring on his left hand that told me everything I needed to know: She was well aware that the quarterback for the Cincinnati Bengals was married, but she didn't care one bit. Plus, she obviously couldn't tell when someone was uncomfortable or not feeling a conversation. She was obviously not a girl's girl. What a bitch.

As I continued to stare at the two of them and read Joes extremely uncomfortable body language, Joe glanced over at me. We made eye contact and immediately after, Joe's eyes widened and he sucked in his lips a little. I smiled a little bit at his plea for help and how much he was practically begging for me to go over and help him. I looked over at the guys sitting at the table who were just watching me and then Joe, interested in what was going on. "You know, girls are bitches. Excuse me, while I go save my husband." I said and scooted my chair back. "You need our help with the clean up job?" Jamar asked. "You can keep her body in my car." Sam added in. I rolled my eyes jokingly and stood up with a laugh. I headed over to save Joe from this awful conversation he was having.

While I walked over to Joe, he glanced over at the table again, but when he saw me, his face immediately lit up and he smiled slightly. The girl, seeing Joe's facial expression from his side profile, looked over to see what he was looking at. As soon as she saw me walking over, I could tell she had absolutely no idea who I was or that I was even married to joe. In her eyes, I was just another person that had a crush on Joe, like her. That still didn't change the fact that she could still flirt and give my husband the 'fuck me eyes', all while knowing he was married. Now I'm not usually one to come out and say that a girl's being a bitch, because I get it, we all have our own problems that we're dealing with, but I mean come on, to flirt with an obvious married man? Now thats low.

I looked down at Joes hands and saw the two drinks in his hand. One of the drinks was a whiskey and the other was a vodka spritzer. Perfect. Once I got to Joe, He looked down at me with his best 'thank you' eyes and handed me the drink. I grabbed the vodka spritzer in one hand, and with the other, I wrapped it around Joes waist and kissed his shoulder. "Thanks babe." I said, the both of us knowing damn well that I never call him babe-But maybe I should, because Joe's cheeks flushed red when I said it- and I knew Joe wasn't a fan of PDA but figured it was needed given the situation he was in. He never has been and he probably never will be. The only time he's fine with it is with close friends or family, so certainly not here with prying eyes. "Of course." Joe said, going along with what I was doing. After I kissed Joes shoulder and smiled up at him, I looked over towards the girl who realized who I was. Did you seriously think his wife wasn't here and watching you? Unreal.

Going along with the part, I held out my hand a little bit out of politeness and acted sorry that I interrupted their conversation. "Oh my-I am so sorry that I interrupted,” I said and then introduced myself, “and you are?" I asked, Looking down at her name tag. I read the name, 'Caitlyn'. Caitlyn knew exactly what I was doing and I could tell by her facial expression that she wasn't enjoying it one bit. "I'm Caitlyn, it's nice to meet you. We were just finishing up our conversation, you weren't interrupting." She said. I flashed a small smile her way and nodded. "Well good, I would've felt terrible. It was nice meeting you, but we should really go find Ja'marr." I said and looked up at Joe, tapping his back a little bit. Joe straightened up and nodded, "yeah-right, it was nice talking to you." Joe said.

We both started to walk away, though I could tell she was staring at us as we left. The audacity of some people is wild. "You are a literal saint, I love you so much. That was horrendous." Joe said as we walked to our table. I began to laugh as we reached our table. "Y'know, fuck her. She knew you were married and still flirted with you, why didn't you leave you pussy?” I joked with him. "I tried, but she kept talking and flirting with me to the point where I felt like I would be rude leaving her and then a news article would come out titled, 'Joe Burrow turned down talking with a fan, what a loser.'" Joe said with a laugh. The both of us laughed as we reached our table. “She can stay jealous.” I laughed. The three of them just looked at Joe and I before Tee spoke up, "wow, she’s like your knight in shining armor brother.”

"Shut up, he was just trying to be polite, some girls just Don't know how to keep their hands off of handsome men that aren't theirs." I said with a 'hmph' and a laugh after sitting down in my chair. Joe followed after me and sat down right next to me in his chair. I leaned in closer to Joe as he put one arm around my chair and sipped his drink. "There Ain't nothin' handsome about Joey B." Ja'marr said, messing with Joe like he always does. Speak for yourself. I looked over to the most handsome man here as he laughed and said, "At least I ain't as ugly as your ass." The whole table laughed as we listened to Ja'marr and Joe joke around back and forth about who the better looking one was.

Other than the incident with the bartender, the night was going pretty well. We were all talking, drinking, and having an amazing time. At one point, all of the D-linemen and O-linemen had a little game of who was the strongest, which was extremely entertaining to watch. The whole time they were competing, Joe was cracking up laughing, and not just the belly laugh. He threw his head back, his eyes were sealed shut, and he could barely breathe. It was like a breath of fresh air to see Joe having an amazing time after such a stressful and uncertain season; the injury.

Currently, I just got done in the bathroom and was walking back to the table we were sitting at. I barely got in 2 steps before I heard a voice I haven't heard in years call out my name. Everything in me told me to just keep walking and pretend like I didn't hear him, but out of politeness, I stopped and looked over at him. "Wow...I haven't seen you in forever. I was hoping I'd see you here." Aiden said. I gave him a small smile and walked over to him so we didn't have to speak too loudly. Hopefully he just wanted to say hi and let me go, or maybe even apologize for trying to get me to cheat on Joe, multiple times. Without me expecting it, he took a step closer, closing the distance between us, and wrapped his arms around me before I could even get in a word.

"Uhh...yeah, it had been a while." I laughed awkwardly as we separated. Aiden kept smiling down at me like he was looking at someone he is really good friends with but hasn't seen in a while. Don't get me wrong, we used to be friends and haven't seen each other in a while, but to want to talk to me and act like nothing went down just felt wrong and uncomfortable. "It's so good to see you, Mrs. Burrow." He said with a big smile. "It's good to see you too." I lied to him with a fake smile, unable to muster up a real one. Right after I said this, he took a step forwards, if that was even possible, making me uncomfortable and making this whole situation awkward, at least for me. I watched him as he smirked a little bit. You better not try something.

I took a step back for comfort and was about to excuse myself when he said, "you look beautiful, even more so than back in college." I furrowed my eyebrows a little bit, disgusted and appalled that even after what went down at college that he could still be face to face with me and try the same things as he did back then. One of his hands found my side and his fingers danced over my hip bone. "Joe wouldn't have any issue if we hung out for a bit, right?" He asked. Don't react, just let Joe handle it. The last thing I wanted to do was create a scene here and draw attention to myself and Aiden. I scoffed a little bit, not able to hide my disgust and disappointment any longer. "It's funny how even after I rejected you in college, you still have the balls to do it again. If I wouldn't cheat on Joe back then, what makes you think I'll do it now?" I asked him, but he still didn't take his hand off of my waist. "Oh come on, don't be like that." He said. I looked down at his hand and then tried to look past him in an attempt to see if Joe was at the table, but he was blocking my view.

All of a sudden, I saw Joe walking over to us, looking as pissed as ever. His fists and jaw were both clenched in anger. I breathed a sigh of relief that he was here so neither of us could cause a scene and draw attention to ourselves. "Get your fucking hand off of my wife." Joe said, putting one of his hands on the small of my back. I looked at Joe and gave him a little nod of assurance before looking at aiden whose eyes grew 10 times bigger once he realized Joe watched the entire thing, and his hand slid off of my waist. I watched as Aiden’s shoulders fell in submission and embarrassement, obviously thinking he was going to get away with flirting with me and putting his hand on me even after what happened in college.

"I-I-" Aiden began to say. "What? You Didn't think I'd see you flirt with my wife? Come on man, you're not that stupid." Joe said and put a hand on his shoulder, squeezing so tightly that aiden winced a little bit. "I was just trying to catch up with her, that's all." He said. I backed up a little bit and stood next to Joes side. I glanced around us a little bit to see if anyone knew what was going on, but nobody even looked at us. Everyone was just caught up in their own conversations. Thank god. "How dumb do you think I am, Aiden?" Joe asked. Aiden swallowed hard and shook his head. "Look man, I'm sorry, it won't happen again, I'll leave.." He said. "You're damn right it won't. Now, you can stay if you want, I won't tell Sam because I know he likes you-Why, I honestly have no clue-but I don’t want to ruin that. But, if you do stay, I don't want to see you near her again. Better yet, I don't even want you to look at her," joe said, and waited for a response, and when it didn't come, he added in, "you got it?" Aiden, who was obviously embarrassed, nodded quickly and said, "Yes sir."

With that, Joe nodded, took a step back from him, and began to turn slightly. Following his lead, I walked by his side and then we walked back with each other to our table that was now empty. This day just kept getting better and better. First it was the cat poop, which I wasn't even too mad about, but then one thing led to another and both Joe and I had someone flirt with us...and the both of them knew we were married. As we walked, I shook my head and sighed a little bit, just wanting this whole day to be over. Once we found our table, the both of us just sat down. "I'm sorry, baby. I cannot believe that fucker had the balls to do that for the second time. I couldn't stand to see his hand on your body, especially when you were so uncomfortable with him in the first place." Joe said.

"Hey, listen to me, Aiden is a jackass, I love you, and I'm all yours. Y'know, I hope he looks at us so he can be jealous of what he'll never have." I said with a smile and shrugged my shoulders. Joe just looked down at me and smiled. It was weird telling Joe that I was his, but I liked it. Normally there are people all over throwing themselves at Joe or accusing him of cheating to try and destroy our relationship, so telling him that I was all his felt... exhilarating, in a way. I was all his. He was all mine. And nothing or nobody could change that. Ever. I couldn't help but notice the little smirk that was growing on Joes face in place of his smile and I knew he liked when I said that I was all his. "Mmm, say that again." Joe said hummed quietly. I giggled a little bit at his reaction and said, "I'm all yours. And by the way, that whole thing with Aiden was really hot. Maybe today wasn’t so bad after all.”

[ch3rry-wink]

Bloodlines

Pairing: Toji x f!reader

Summary: The new acquisition of the clan refuses to obey.

CW: Misogyny, smut (no explicit), discrimination, mention of abortion, Zenin clan is a warning

Author's note: in this house we hate clan Zenin

The new acquisition of the Zenin clan was a pathetic girl of the same age, the daughter of a family who wanted to climb the social ladder, sold and bought at an exorbitant price to eventually become the honorable wife of someone in the near future.

At first glance, she didn't seem grotesque nor remarkable; she was just a girl whose spirit would be crushed by the clan to serve someone of higher rank, as everything here was based on power and traditions, centuries of history that remained untouched even in the modern world.

Everyone played a role; his was to be tormented by his relatives, and yours would be to be the wife and mother of someone, but for now, you would be trained to perfectly fulfill your role. If you were lucky, your children would be sorcerers, and if not, they would be a disgrace and would cost your husband his honor.

Toji focused a lot on you, on the clothes you wore, on your activities, on your drawings, and on how you sneaked into the gardens to cry; despite the status granted to you, Toji still thought of you as just an object; but a beautiful and important object placed on the top shelf.

He watched you come and go with the lady of the house, the first or second or third wife of the leader; he had lost count of how many there had been, but that wasn't important. What mattered was seeing you learn to be a Zenin.

You learned to give orders and mistreat people beneath you, to slap them when they looked at you or spoke when they shouldn't. He had even received a couple of slaps himself and was proud of you for getting used to it so quickly; it almost seemed like you were born into the clan.

In the future, you would be just like them, casting children into the pit of curses and raising your own to torment people like him; however, tonight, it didn't matter what you would become in the future; in the present, you were nothing more than his. In a secluded spot in the garden, in the moonlight with your dress half open as he fucked you mercilessly it was just you and him, here the Zenin clan didn't matter.

Toji watched as you writhed and cried out in pleasure, clutching your legs to his hips and your arms around his neck, he listened to you praise him about how perfect he was for you and how much you loved him. Maybe you pitied him, showed affection as to a stray puppy, or simply saw him as your boy toy. But no, the way you looked at him didn't allow him to doubt you, nor did the devotion you showed him; you risked your life every time you were alone together.

"What are you thinking about? You seem distant," you traced the scar on his lip.

"About us." Toji thought a lot about that, about you two. "The clan won't let us be together; they won't allow your technique and your cursed energy to be tainted by someone like me."

"I don't want to think about that." You pulled him in for a kiss. "I want to enjoy this night with you." Toji stopped just inches from your lips.

"So am I just that? A casual night of passion?" Perhaps his doubts were correct.

"No, you're more than that. But I don't want to think about the clan." Your voice faltered slightly, and a tear escaped.

"I want to be with you." It might sound like a silly lovestruck teenager, but he couldn't deny it; he was in love, and for the first time in his life, he was determined that it was time to leave the clan.

"Do you want to run away with me?" You had read his thoughts; you desired the same thing as him, freedom.

It sounded somewhat fantastical that they would do that; the clan wouldn't let you go, and if they did, life outside would be a complete hell.

"I'm getting married in a few days, I still don't know to whom," you confessed the truth you had been hiding all night, the reason you were determined not to mention the clan; the mere idea of not being with Toji made you miserable.

"We might die," you looked at him with teary eyes. "Maybe we'll have to kill." You hugged him, burying your face in his chest.

"I'd rather die than be without you." His heart started beating rapidly with your declaration; you mattered to him more than his own life. "I should go," you pulled away from the hug and began to walk alone through the garden.

Toji watched you take care of your duties; after all, in a few days, you would officially be a Zenin, and you would have to carry everything that entailed.

He called in a couple of favors just to bring you tea which you ignored just to have him under you, you moved your hips up and down trying to take his entire length inside you, you were always discreet, never in broad daylight and least of all in your room, if anyone saw them you would be punished; but neither seemed to care so absorbed in your own pleasure, you didn't notice the concubine who witnessed your indiscretion.

The elder man held the katana close to Toji's neck, while the other man reprimanded her for her actions. You had your face buried in the tatami in a submissive manner, apologizing repeatedly and even pleading for his life.

"He must leave, and she must die," your voice was cold. "No one will know what happened in that room." The other woman didn't even have time to scream; her body fell lifeless before even opening the door.

"Thank you for remembering your worth," one of the elders smiled at seeing the use of the cursed technique for which she was bought.

"You should go, live your life, be happy for both of us, marry, have children, get away from this world." You didn't want to look him in the eye; he knew you were crying, your voice choked up. When he left the clan, he thought you would accompany him, not that you would have this bitter farewell where you didn't even want to see him in the eyes.

"Are you here to kill me?" He had many jobs, and in none of them had he cared about the other person's life; but today was different—the special assignment was you.

"Something like that." The Zenin clan had grown tired of you, of not being able to carry a potential heir to term. You were a healthy woman who couldn't conceive, and they weren't going to tolerate your insubordination.

"It will be a pleasure to die by the hand of the man I once loved."

"That man is gone; he died in the garden where you abandoned me."

"You're a bit resentful, Fushiguro." It didn't surprise him that you knew his last name; the clan always kept tabs.

"I'm not here to socialize." He adjusted the sword.

"I was distracted, defenseless; you could have killed me and left without looking back, leaving my body in this wretched room and collecting the money from the intermediary."

"You're never vulnerable; I should hurry, the babysitter charges by the hour."

"How is Megumi? My condolences for his mother; I admit, I'm a bit envious—she lived with you everything I desired." You had become talkative.

"You could have done it, but you chose to stay."

"I did it for you; I wanted you to live the life you deserved, and yet here you are, a mercenary killing sorcerers."

"Enough." The sword's blade hovered inches from your neck.

"Kill me, I don't want to go back anymore; I'm tired of keeping my head down and walking three steps behind my husband." You moved calmly toward him.

"They want you back, dead or alive" you were so close to him; you caressed his chest and tiptoed to give him a kiss.

"I missed you." The sword fell with a metallic sound; his arms enveloped you, and both of you sank into the desperate passion that both felt for each other.

That passion that led you to be naked on the bed, you enjoying his thick cock and lustful kisses, the wet sound of skin against skin slapping and his hot seed spilling inside your body, securing another possible heir for the Zenin clan.

Toji was so proud, you were somewhat machiavellian organizing a whole plan at the cost of your own life just to have him, to have him fuck you as only he knew how and he was proud to be able to prove to the Zenin that he was always better.

He would have a great legacy, he would have the honor of putting them to shame, of everyone seeing how the children of a nobody like him became better and stronger, that everything the clan valued came from him.

[hanafubukki]

Currently having OT3 brainrot with Lilia -after waiting for centuries for the return of his time traveler wife having existential crisis because baby Silver awoke without explaination while Dawn still sleeping, and asking himself if he ever could be happy with his family ever again- just seeing one day in NRC the young woman coming from nowhere and being the exact copy of his wife. Same face, same smile, laugh, manners, everything. His own wife -just younger.

Now, Lilia starting to becoming a little bit possessive and protective with the newcomer. Like, weirdly always there when a problem occur to help. And strange things happen too...

Some guys were mean to you ? "Hi Youngster, just here for a little talk. What are you doing to my wife ?" Strangly, one day, the meanies sudlently started to avoid you like their life were in games.

Problem with schoolword ? You have a wonderful senior to teach you everything you need.

Malleus coming to see the little prefect ? Yes Lilia knows his wife. She was always like this. Incredible and kind and friendly and- wait- he fell in love with her for all this, some centuries ago..."Malleus ! Wait, you going out tonight ? Why not playing card with Silver, Sebek and I ?"

Weirdly, after this day, Diasomnia had now a card play everyday until late at night-

All little things which, when y/n goes and came back again with the memories of the past, become the ultimate teasing material. Lilia can think himself lucky if Meleanor never hear of this, because it would be inbearable.

- 🦋 Anon

[Masterlist]

Hello 🦋 Anonie 🌺🌻🌷

I’ve been hit in the feels as I read this over and over. Just think about it? The whiplash of feelings Lilia is going through?

He’s been waiting and raising Silver, of course he has family to help out, but Dawn and You are not here. He knew you came from the future, but when? When will he see you again? When will Dawn wake up?

Lilia is constantly plagued by these thoughts, until he sees you again and finally, finally, his world is moving again at a normal pace.

Lilia sat thinking.

Would you two be proud of the the family he raised? Proud of him? It's been so long since he's last felt your warmth, since he last felt the companionship and support of Dawn.

Looking at Silver, Lilia is reminded of both of you.

Then one day, you appear and he's shocked. He observes you and that feeling of familiarity hits him.

It's you, his love, his wife.

Their Star.

Though it seems you don't remember him, and he remembers what you had told him in the past. How you were suddenly sent to Twisted Wonderland.

No matter, he will take care of you.

If need be, he was willing to make you fall for him all over again.

He was extra charming at this age if he said so himself.

It wasn't surprising that NRC wouldn't like change, but to pick on a magicless student?

How cowardly.

He knew you had your strengths, after all, you had wooed both him and Dawn.

Which is not an easy feat, yet his instincts screamed at him to protect what was his.

He would do just that.

"Let's have a chat boys~ I don't like the way you are treating my wif-, I mean the Prefect. Is there no honor among youth these days?"

You were so cute.

Lilia couldn't help but stare at you as you worked on your schoolwork.

Naturally, he had made it so you would come to him for help.

After all, wasn't he your cute upperclassman? He would always be happy to help those who need it.

...but that didn't stop the urge he felt in taking your hand.

He waited this long, he can wait a bit more.

Lilia knew you would laugh at him if you ever found out, but he couldn't take the risk!

You had befriended Malleus, and why wouldn't you?

You were kind, sweet, loving-

All qualities he and Dawn fell for, so can you blame him for panicking a bit?

It was bad enough he and Dawn had to fight off so many noblemen in the past, and he won't mention his annoying sister either.

His boys humored him, but the smirk on Malleus' face told him he wouldn't be let off that easy.

When YN returns from the past, Lilia is going to have to deal with teasing from all sides. At least he has his family again and they are all happy and whole again.

I also like to think that YN attracted all kinds of people, human and non-human. It’s their natural charm 💞💞

[ao3cassandraic]

As far as they can

At the end of the Job minisode, Crowley inaugurates Their Side by proclaiming Aziraphale "an angel who goes along with Heaven... as far as he can," parallel to his own stated relationship with Hell.

Only it... doesn't actually work that way. Their exactlies are different exactlies.

Crowley defies and lies to Hell as often as he thinks he can get away with it. He never disabuses Downstairs of their misconceptions about his contributions to human atrocities. He cheerfully lies in his reports Downstairs, something Aziraphale briefly turns on his Baritone of Sarcastic Disapproval about in s1. Crowley even turns evil homeopathic in the latter part of the 20th century, likely in hopes that it will look good to head office while accomplishing essentially nothing. (This, of course, is another way he Crowleys himself, both with the London phone system and the M25.) After Eden, Crowley's default given an assignment from Hell is to see how he can subvert it.

Aziraphale, on the other hand, defies Her and Heaven as little as he possibly can. Sometimes, as with his sword giveaway, his compassion gets the better of his anxiety. Sometimes, as with Job's children in the destruction of the villa, he can try to stay within the letter of the law by leaving the defiance to Crowley.

His default, however, is "'m 'nangel. I can't dis- diso -- not do what 'm told." This comes out most often as respect for the Great/Divine Plan, which to him is sacrosanct. He sounds quite sincere in s1 when he says "Even if I wanted to help I couldn’t. I can’t interfere with the Divine Plan."

Aziraphale quite frequently Good Angels along by parroting Heaven's party line, whether it's "it'll all be rather lovely" or "I am good, you (I'm afraid) are evil" or droning on about evil containing the seeds of its own destruction, or condemning Elspeth's graverobbing as "wicked" (a stance he offers absolutely no reasoned support for, no logic, no "but She said," not a word -- that's very Heaven; most of Heaven's angels have the approximate brainpower of paramecia). Maestro Michael Sheen even has a particular voice cadence -- I think of it as Sententious Voice -- he uses when Aziraphale is thoughtlessly party-lining.

When the angel's conscience wars with his sense of Heaven's orthodoxy but (and this is an important but) he can't feasibly resist whatever's wrong, he offers strengthless party-line justifications he clearly doesn't agree with (as with the "rain bow" in Mesopotamia) or resorts to a Nuremberg defense: "I'm not consulted on policy decisions, Crowley!" Once or twice, he's even vocally aware of Heavenly hypocrisy: "Unless… [guns]'re in the right hands, where they give weight to a moral argument… I think." This isn't Sententious Voice. It's I-can't-disobey-and-I-hate-that voice.

But at base, the angel prefers obedience (not least because it's vastly safer), and he'd rather have someone else do his moral reasoning for him. Honestly? Pretty relatable. I know lots of people like this -- hell's bells, I've been this person, though I grew out of it somewhat -- and I daresay you do too. Moral reasoning is hard and often lonely (since it can be read as self-righteousness or even hypocrisy) and acting as it dictates can hurt. Nobody would need ethics codes if The Right Thing was also invariably The Convenient Thing.

Many GO fans find these Aziraphalean traits frustrating! Especially his repeated returns to parroting Heaven orthodoxy! Sometimes I do too! (Not least because I'm rather protective of my own integrity, and it's cost me quite a few times. I'm well-known in professional circles for picking up a rhetorical spear and tilting at the nearest iniquitous windmill. I often lose, but I sure do keep tilting. Every once in a blue moon I actually win one.)

The key, I think, to giving our angel a little grace on this (beyond honoring the gentle compassion that is pretty basic to his character) is noticing how often he can be induced to abandon an unconsidered Heavenish default stance. As irritating as his default is, and as consistently as he returns to it, it's not really that hard to talk him out of it. Crowley, of course, is tremendously good at knocking Aziraphale away from his default -- he's had to be. But Aziraphale even manages to talk himself away from his default once, in the form of the Ineffable Plan hairsplitting at the airbase!

I think the character-relevant point of the Resurrectionist minisode is making this breaking-the-Heavenish-default dynamic as clear as the contents of the pickled-herring barrel aren't. "That's lunatic!" Crowley exclaims, when Aziraphale Sententious Voicedly parrots Heaven's garbage about poverty providing extra opportunities for goodness. Aziraphale isn't quite ready to let go yet, replying "It's ineffable."

But Dalrymple (who, I think, parallels Heaven, perhaps even the Metatron -- there could be something decent there, but it's buried too deep under scorn and clueless privilege for any graverobber-of-souls to dig it out) manages to break Aziraphale's orthodoxy by explaining the child's tumor.

Once released from his orthodoxy, Aziraphale can't be trusted to handle moral reasoning well; his moral-reasoning ability is not-uncommonly (though not always) portrayed as vitiated. When he gives Elspeth the go-ahead to dig up more bodies, his excuses are just as vacuous as they were when he was convinced of her wickedness. He knows that he's crossed Heaven's line, too, and just as at Eden it's worrying him. That's why he has to talk to Crowley to nerve himself up to help Wee Morag... only he spends too much time talking, and it's too late.

But Crowley can then talk him into bankrolling Elspeth toward a better life. Aziraphale doesn't even put up any fight, both because he's compassionate and because Crowley is temporarily taking the place of Heaven (he's even Heaven-sized and staring down at them!) as the angel's moral compass.

S1 has an even worse example of Aziraphale's moral wavering, actually. Crowley yells "Shoot him, Aziraphale!" and Aziraphale sure does try to murder Adam. Again, he's adopting his morals from the nearest (and loudest) convenient source. Madame Tracy, thankfully, has enough of a moral backbone to save our angel from himself and Crowley.

(With my ersatz-ethicist hat on: this is a fight between utilitarianism and deontology. Crowley is the utilitarian, which is actually a bit of a departure for him, but he's admittedly desperate. Madame Tracy is the deontologist: One Doesn't Kill Children. Aziraphale is caught in the middle.)

I wouldn't be surprised if part of the reason we start s3 with Aziraphale and Crowley separated is so that Aziraphale finally has to do his own moral reasoning, without Crowley's nudges. I don't think it'll be easy for him. It will absolutely be lonely. And it may well hurt.

But I will watch for it, because it's how he will become his own angel, independent of Heaven and even of Crowley. And he must do that.