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astrids-blog333 · 3 months ago

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A Ruin of His Making

Emperor!Lucius Verus Aurelius x Reader

Fandom: Gladiator II

Summary: You’re engaged to an emperor you hate. One night, in the palace halls, hatred turns to something much louder, and far more public.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, enemies to lovers, hate sex vibes, power imbalance, semi-public, possessiveness, manhandling, dirty talk, ref to past trauma.

A/N: Set post Gladiator II, deviates from the original plot (help sorry I can't resist). All physical interactions are consensual within the story's context, despite emotional intensity and imbalance. The reader is not weak or passive; she is angry and complicated and chooses to stay. That being said, if you are triggered by cnc situations, maybe skip this one <3

MASTERLIST - REQUESTS (OPEN)

WC: 5.6k

The city smells of sweat and heat and gold-painted victory. You stand at the far end of the atrium, among garlands and silks, your fellow nobles and senators are fawning and chattering like carrion birds circling a lion.

They say Lucius Verus has returned from war.

They say he’s changed, but you never knew him well enough to tell the difference anyway.

The guards enter first, tight-faced and too tense for a triumphal return. Then comes the man himself. He's taller than you remember, broader, somehow. His cloak hangs from one shoulder, dirt-streaked and travel-worn, and there’s blood at the corner of his cuff that no one dares mention.

He does not smile. He does not bow. He does not stop. The crowd parts for him like wheat under a scythe. His eyes scan the room once and find you.

You don’t move. You don’t flinch.

Not even when he walks directly toward you, ignoring the extended hands, the simpering greetings, the half-kneeling senators who hold out rings for him to kiss.

You stand with your back straight, chin lifted. You are not some doe-eyed virgin waiting to be gifted into this marriage like a prize pig. You were someone’s wife once. And though that man is rotting beneath the stones of a family crypt, he left you with a name. And scars.

Lucius stops a foot too close.

You feel the heat rolling off him, the stench of sweat and leather and rage barely held at bay. His jaw is dark with stubble, his mouth a tight line, unsmiling.

"You didn’t bow," he says, voice rough with the weight of months spent shouting over battlefields.

You arch an eyebrow. "I am not yet your wife."

He smiles at that. Crooked. Wolfish. “Not yet. But soon.”

You hate the way his voice drags over those words, like he’s already tasted them and has decided to spit them back out.

"Did the Senate send for you?" you ask. "Or did you run back early for your wedding night?"

Laughter dances in the crowd, polite and forced. But Lucius doesn’t join in. "I came because Rome grows soft in my absence," he replies. "And because I don’t trust them to protect what’s mine."

The air between you pulls taut.

"Is that what I am?" you ask, voice flat. "A possession?"

He leans forward. Close enough that you can see the smudge of dried blood at the collar of his tunic. You don’t know if it’s his.

"No," he murmurs. "You’re a puzzle. A provocation. And they promised you to me without ever asking whether I could stomach the taste of something so bitter."

Something ugly curls in your chest, a kind of fury that never burned out properly.

"And I suppose you think I’ll be grateful to be claimed by a monster?"

Lucius tilts his head, studying you. "Gratitude isn’t required. But you will belong to me."

He says it so plainly, so calmly, as though the matter were already settled in blood and ink. Perhaps it is. You never had much say in it to begin with.

"You don’t know me," you snap.

"I know enough."

A beat. The space between you closes, breath to breath. His voice drops lower. "I know you didn’t cry at your husband’s funeral. I know he hit you. I know you learned to lie still and quiet and pretend that was love. I know that scares you more than I do."

It hits you like a thrown gauntlet, because it’s true. There is no pity in his words. No sympathy. Just knowing. You hate that he’s read your history like some battlefield report. That he’s looked at your wounds and seen something useful.

"Then you’re a fool," you whisper, throat tight. "Because I’d sooner die than lie beneath another man who thinks he owns me."

Lucius doesn’t flinch, instead, he steps closer. A breath between you. You don’t step back. Not even when his voice curls behind your ear like smoke.

"What a shame, I happen to need you alive."

You slap him.

The sound cracks across the chamber like lightning. Every eye turns. Every whisper hushes.

His head turns with the blow, but he doesn’t strike back. Doesn’t even lift a hand.

He turns back slowly, a smile blooming like blood across his face.

There’s something almost unholy in his expression, a delight and fury which you cannot decipher for the life of you.

"Careful," he says softly. "You’re starting to excite me."

You stare at him, chest rising, blood roaring in your ears. You don't know if you want to scream, cry or push him away. Instead, you step back. Only one step.

Enough to remind yourself that you still can.

The feast had barely begun to die down, but already, the guests have begun to trickle out. The heavy scent of wine lingers in the air, mixing with the distant traces of roasting meats and sweet spices. You’ve stepped away from it all, retreating into the quiet of the balcony that overlooks the garden.

Lucius had left the feast earlier, his back straight, face unreadable, no parting words to anyone but the occasional curt nod. You watched him go, and for a moment, something like relief flickered within you.

But you hadn’t expected him to come find you.

The silence on the balcony is deafening as the shadows stretch across the marble. The cool air bites at your skin, tension now gathering between you and the man who’s just stepped into the frame of the door behind you. Lucius.

You don’t turn. The weight of his presence alone makes you stiffen, your back rigid. You can feel his eyes on you, watching, waiting.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low, a whisper that still manages to echo in the stillness of the night. “Enjoying the peace?”

“I thought you’d be too busy being the hero to notice,” you say, a sharpness to your words, though you refuse to turn to face him.

“You think so little of me?” he asks, the amusement in his voice somehow making it even more infuriating. He’s close now, so close that you feel the heat of him behind you. Every inch of space seems too small for the way his presence presses against you.

“I think you’re entitled,” you mutter, fingers tightening against the stone railing in front of you. “And I think you act like you're entitled. To everything. To the power. The land. The people. And whatever part of me you can claim.”

He steps closer, his boots soft against the marble as his hand rests on the stone next to yours. His voice drops lower. “You think you’re the only one who’s been forced into this?”

You scoff, unable to hold back a short, mocking laugh. “Please. You live for this. For control. For dominance.”

His face is inches from yours now. You don’t flinch when he leans in, his breath a whisper against your ear. His voice low and venomous. “You think I enjoy this, do you? Do you really believe I enjoy being forced into a marriage I don’t want? To a woman who can’t even look me in the eye without thinking herself superior?”

The words sting, but you don’t show it. Instead, you match his venom with your own.

“If you’re so miserable, why don’t you find a way out?” The challenge is clear in your tone, daring him to try, to do anything that might make him leave you be. “But you won’t, will you?”

Lucius steps in even closer, so close now that his chest nearly brushes against your back. You can feel the heat of him, the power he exudes, and yet you still refuse to give him the satisfaction of turning to face him.

His fingers trail dangerously close to your neck, and you can’t help but shiver at his touch. “You want to make me angry, don’t you?” he says, his voice thick with something darker. “You want me to lose control.”

Then, with a suddenness that has you gasping for breath, his hand shifts, gripping your chin and tilting your head just enough to meet his gaze. The coldness in his eyes sends a chill down your spine, but there’s also something dangerous flickering there, a hunger.

For a moment, the world is silent. He holds you in place, staring at you. You barely breathe. You can feel the weight of his stare, the storm building in his chest.

“You have a sharp tongue,” Lucius murmurs, his grip tightening around your chin, his thumb brushing lightly over your lips. “But I’m starting to wonder if you really want to use it.”

You feel his thumb trace the shape of your mouth.

Without thinking, you jerk away, snapping, “I don’t want this.”

Lucius steps back, giving you space, but you can feel the tension in his movements, the anger bubbling just beneath the surface. The air is thick between you and Lucius, and the moment feels like a ticking time bomb.

The silence stretches, suffocating, but somehow neither of you seems willing to let it end. The distance between you feels impossibly small, yet you can’t quite bring yourself to move.

He looks at you like a predator eyeing its prey, and you feel it in the pit of your stomach, an unsettling pull.

“Like I said, you want to make me lose my temper, don’t you?” he murmurs, his voice dark, but laced with a wicked, almost amused edge.

You want to hate him, to despise every part of this situation. But it’s getting harder to ignore the way his eyes burn through you, the way he looks at you as though you’re the only thing in the room worth noticing.

“You think you can scare me?” You bite back, stepping forward, though the words come out sharper than you intended. Lucius watches you carefully, the smallest smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

“No,” he says, voice dropping lower, just enough for you to catch every word. “I don’t want to scare you, but I know I could.”

You’re both too proud to back down. You hate him. He doesn’t like you, either. But there’s something else there, something neither of you can ignore.

Lucius takes a step forward, his eyes never leaving yours, and in a single movement, his hand reaches for your arm, pulling you toward him. The movement is swift, like a coiled spring finally snapping, and before you can react, you’re pressed against the cold railing of the balcony, his body a solid wall in front of you.

Your breath catches, not from fear, but from the intensity, the rawness of it. You’re angry, so fucking angry, but that anger isn’t enough to push him away.

You manage to fight through the fog of emotion, trying to spit out something sharp, something to cut him down to size. But the words die in your throat when he presses his thumb to your chin, tilting your face up to meet his.

“I thought you were supposed to be strong,” he murmurs, the challenge in his eyes matching the taunting tone of his voice. “Or is that just a front?”

The words cut into you like shards of glass. You try to turn your face away, but he doesn’t let you. Instead, his fingers tighten on your chin, forcing you to look at him.

“You want me to hurt you, don’t you?” he asks, his voice low, almost too soft for the sharpness of the question. “I can see it in your eyes. You want me to make you feel something, anything. Don’t lie.”

You want to scream, want to tell him to go to hell. But something in you won’t let it. You hate him for it. You hate the fact that you don’t want to pull away, don’t want to run.

You press your lips together, jaw tight with defiance, and finally you speak. “I’m not afraid of you.”

Lucius chuckles, a low, dark sound that sends a shiver down your spine. “No,” he says, his voice a mockery of sympathy, “you’re not. But that’s the problem, isn’t it?”

Before you can respond, before you can even think of another insult to throw his way, Lucius closes the distance between you. His lips crash against yours in a searing kiss, ruthless, punishing. It’s not gentle, not at all.

It’s a kiss that takes, that demands.

You can’t help but gasp, the shock of it flooding through you. You don’t want to respond. You don’t want to let him win. But as his hands move to your hips, gripping you tighter, pulling you closer, something inside you unravels.

The kiss deepens, and you’re lost in it, overwhelmed by the heat of his body pressing against yours, the way his tongue demands entrance, the way he doesn’t give you the space to breathe.

“You’re a fool,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice low and dark, laced with satisfaction. “You think you can control this. But you can’t.”

You're drowning in him, and you despise that your body is reacting to him before your mind can stop it.

You push against him, trying to break free. But he only pulls you tighter, his hands sliding down your back, pressing you harder against him.

For a moment, you forget where you are. Forget that you’re supposed to be angry. Forget that this is supposed to be a confrontation.

You barely register the first sound of tearing fabric.

Your back is pressed to the balustrade, the cold stone biting through the thin silk of your gown, but Lucius doesn’t give you the chance to think. His hands are already on the fastenings at your waist, tugging hard enough to make the seams strain.

You gasp, a noise laced with fury and arousal, and push at his chest. “Is this how Roman emperors take what isn’t theirs? In gardens, like dogs?”

Lucius breaks the kiss to laugh, a laugh so low, rough, and amused in the most infuriating way. “If I were a dog, darling, I’d have taken you by now. But I’m patient. And you’re very, very close to begging.”

Your palm cracks across his cheek before you even realise what you’re doing. The sound is obscene in the quiet night, but it only seems to deepen that look in his eyes, hunger laced with something wild.

He catches your wrist before you can drop it, pinning it to the stone behind you, and leans in close enough that you feel the scrape of his breath against your jaw.

“That's the second time you've slapped me, do it again,” he growls, eyes blazing. “I dare you.”

“You’re disgusting,” you breathe, trying to twist free. “I’d rather sleep with a beast.”

His mouth finds your throat. Biting. Sucking. “Liar,” he mutters. “You’d rather sleep with this beast.”

And then his other hand rips through the neckline of your dress, fabric tearing, your breath hitching, and suddenly you’re half-bared to the open air, marble halls echoing behind you, columns offering far too little cover.

You try to cover yourself with your free hand, but he shoves it aside easily. “Oh no, don’t be modest now,” he says, voice syrup-thick with mockery. “Not when you’re standing there like a goddess meant to be ruined.”

“You arrogant bastard-”

“You like this,” he cuts in, tone taunting. “You like being manhandled. You like me doing it.”

You want to shout. Want to slap him again. Want to deny everything.

But the heat between your legs betrays you. The way your hips press forward into him, your legs shifting restlessly, you can feel how wet you already are, and you hate it.

“I hate you,” you hiss, even as he hooks a finger under the torn edge of your bodice and yanks again, exposing you further.

“I know, you keep saying that,” he breathes. “You hate me, and yet here you are, letting me touch you like this. Moaning into my mouth. Parting your legs. Do you know how sweet you sound when you're angry?”

He kisses you again, more teeth than tongue, and your wrists are pinned again before you can react, your body arched and open to him, your gown falling in tatters around your ankles.

“I should scream,” you pant when he moves to your jaw, biting there too, as though claiming.

“Do it. Let them hear. Let them see.” His voice is low, wicked. “Let the whole palace know that you're mine.”

You hate how that word coils low in your belly, how it makes something flutter in your chest.

With one arm, he lifts you like you weigh nothing, and you gasp as your back slams into the stone column behind you, your feet no longer anchoring you down. You can feel him hard against you, thick and hot even through his tunic. He grinds into you, just once, and it forces a sound out of you that doesn’t sound like hate at all.

His mouth brushes your ear. “There’s the real you,” he whispers. “You’re dripping. I could take you right here. Against the stone. Would you stop me?”

You should. You don’t.

“Coward,” you hiss, trying to reclaim the moment. “You think I’m impressed? You’re nothing but-”

He lets go of you so suddenly you stumble, but only for a moment. He catches you again, strong arms around your waist, and then he’s carrying you, half-naked, down the colonnade.

You wriggle against him, fists pounding his chest. “Put me down-”

“I will,” he snaps. “When we reach my bed. And not a moment before.”

You bury your face in his shoulder, but all he does is laugh, cruel and triumphant.

The doors of his chamber slam open under the force of his boot. He doesn’t even pause; he strides through the room and drops you onto his bed like a prize. Like a victory.

You scramble back, shaking, hair wild, lips swollen.

He unfastens his belt, watching you all the while with that same awful, smug amusement. “Still planning to insult me, or are you going to lie back and spread those pretty legs for me?”

You launch a pillow at him. “You’re the most arrogant bastard I’ve ever met!”

“And you’re the loudest little whore in Rome.”

You gasp, half outrage, half heat, and he’s on you again before you can draw breath. He's laughing low in his throat as you claw at his tunic.

“You’re still fighting me,” he says, dragging your ruined gown off the rest of the way, “but you’re wetter than any Roman virgin. Were you always this easy to break?”

“You haven’t broken me-”

“Haven’t I?”

He’s between your legs now, and the teasing stops being verbal. His fingers slide through your slick folds, slow and deliberate, and you whine when he draws one circle around your clit, just enough to make you twitch.

“You’re trembling,” he murmurs, lips brushing your ear. “You hate me so much you can’t stop shaking.”

You try to push him again, but this time he catches your hand, kisses the palm, and presses it against his chest.

“Go on. Keep hating me.” His eyes gleam. “But don’t you dare stop moaning.”

You don’t. You can’t.

Because his fingers are slipping lower, slow, deliberate, two of them curling inside you, and the sound you make is more like a sob than a gasp. You want to turn your face away, but he’s already watching too closely, already smirking like he knows.

“You feel that?” he says low, pushing deeper, twisting his wrist. “How wet you are? It’s obscene.”

“Stop-” you manage, but it’s pathetic. Your thighs are shaking.

“No,” he breathes. “You don’t want me to stop. Say it. Say you want it.”

You grit your teeth. “I want you to choke on your own ego.” He laughs again, lips brushing yours, still fucking you slow with his fingers. “Admit it, little bride. You’d rather choke on me.”

“Fuck. You.”

His grin widens. “Believe it or not, love, but that's the idea.”

Then he slams into you with his fingers, harder now, and you arch off the bed with a strangled sound. Your nails dig into his shoulders, seeking something to hold onto that isn’t your dignity.

“You’re soaked,” he mutters. “You’d let me take you anywhere, wouldn’t you? Against the column, the floor, right in front of the Senate. You like being ruined.”

“You’re disgusting,” you pant.

“And yet you’re dripping for me.”

Every roll of his fingers is pushing you closer, making it harder to breathe, to speak, to hate. You try to close your legs, to regain even the smallest control.

“Don’t,” he snaps, pushing your thighs apart. “Don’t you dare hide from me.”

“I’m not-”

“You are.” His voice dips. “But I want to see the moment you break. I want to feel it.”

You growl, but your hips are still grinding down against his hand. You’re trying to win a war on a battlefield he’s already set aflame.

Then he pulls his fingers free, wet and glistening, and holds them up between you.

“Look at that,” he says darkly. “And still pretending you don’t want me.”

You slap them away.

He grabs your wrists again, pins them above your head, and grinds his cock against you through the thin barrier of his clothes. You moan despite yourself.

“Say it,” he breathes, teeth gritted now. “Say you want me.”

“I don’t-”

He lets go. Just long enough to shove his tunic over his head, exposing the scarred stretch of his chest, the line of muscle down his stomach. You don’t mean to stare, but you do.

“Oh,” he purrs. “You’re staring. That’s new.”

You lunge up to push him, but he grabs your thigh and flips you onto your stomach like a rag doll. You yelp, trying to twist back.

He presses your chest to the bed with one hand, pulls your hips up with the other, and drags the head of his cock through your folds.

You go still.

The moment stretches.

“Ready to beg now?” he asks, tone silken.

“I will bite your fucking throat out.”

“Then I’ll fuck you while you try.”

And with no more warning, he drives into you.

You scream. Not in pain, not entirely. The stretch is sharp, unforgiving, but it’s the invasion that overwhelms you. He doesn't ease in, doesn’t wait. He sinks all the way to the hilt in one brutal thrust and stays there, one hand locked on your hip, the other on the back of your neck.

“You feel that?” he growls. “That’s mine. All of it. All of you.”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you hiss, voice trembling.

But you clench around him.

He groans, deep and unrestrained, and begins to thrust. Rough, relentless. The bed slams into the wall, your moans torn from you against your will.

“You sound like a whore,” he mutters, reaching forward to grab your throat, pulling you up against his chest.

You gasp, back arching, hair falling in wild tangles as he fucks into you from behind. Your legs tremble.

“Say it,” he growls again. “Say you want me.”

“No.”

He slides one hand between your thighs again, fingers rubbing your clit in tight, relentless circles.

You break.

Your body clamps down on him so violently that it makes him stutter. He thrusts through it, snarling, riding it out as you tremble and shake, breathless and wrung out.

“Liar,” he hisses in your ear. “You wanted this. You needed this.”

You’re still spasming around him when he flips you onto your back, fast and rough, before he plunges in again. This time you cry out with every movement, overstimulated and gasping.

“You should see yourself,” he pants, rutting into you. “Hair a mess, mouth open, legs shaking. Ruined.”

“Fuck… fuck you-”

“I am.”

He leans down, bites your lower lip, and slams into you harder. You moan into his mouth.

“You’re done pretending,” he whispers. “You can’t lie anymore.”

You claw at his shoulders. “You’re a monster.”

“Then why do you keep pulling me closer?”

You hate how right he is. Hate how good he feels. Hate the second orgasm building already, tighter, fiercer.

“You’re going to come again, aren’t you?” he says, tone mocking. “My poor little bride, soaking and speechless.”

He slams into you again. Your mouth drops open, but no sound comes out.

“Thought so.”

Your eyes roll back.

He fucks you like he’s trying to prove something, not just that he owns your body, but your pride, your defiance, every last bit of control.

When the second climax hits, you cry out so loudly he has to smother your mouth with his palm.

“Too loud,” he growls. “Don’t want the whole palace hearing how well I fuck my bride-”

But he doesn’t really care. You can see it in his eyes. He wants them to know.

You collapse beneath him, breathless, soaked, undone.

He comes not long after, hips snapping, voice raw as he spills inside you with a shudder and a growl of your name.

Silence, for a breath.

Then he shifts and leans over you, bracing himself on shaking arms.

Lucius moves slowly. And when he withdraws, you feel the thick, wet ache of it. You shift, a low hiss escaping your throat.

“Too much for you?” he drawls, brushing your hair from your cheek. “Pity. You took it well enough while I was ruining you.”

You manage a scowl, though your body’s trembling with aftershocks. “I should kill you.”

“You’d miss me.” He grins. “So would your cunt.”

He rises from the bed in a single motion, his body shadowed by the low lanterns, and you don’t expect it when he leans down, hooking his arm beneath your knees and lifting you from the sheets.

“Put me-”

“No.”

Your fists beat weakly at his chest, but you’re too sore to mean it. His seed still slicks your thighs. You’re marked, ruined, utterly dishevelled. And now you’re being paraded.

He strides from the bedchamber and out into the marble corridor of his private suite, bare, flushed, and grinning like a wolf. His bathchamber lies across the hall.

The door is open.

So is your mouth when a figure, a servant, pale and wide-eyed, turns at the end of the corridor. Sees everything.

Lucius does not flinch.

In fact, he smirks.

“Get out,” he says, not even glancing their way. The command is casual, but lethal.

They flee.

You burn.

“Scandalous bastard,” you hiss.

“Shall I drop you in the corridor then?” he offers, eyes glinting.

You don’t answer.

Steam curls from the bronze basin sunk into the floor, warm and waiting. The scent of oils hangs thick in the air, clinging to your skin even before it’s wet.

Lucius doesn’t stop. Doesn’t ask. He steps straight into the bath, water clinging to the muscle beneath as he lowers himself, and you, into the heat.

You hiss when it touches the rawest places. Bruises. Scrapes. You still feel where he stretched you.

His hold on you tightens, not to restrain, but to shield.

“I was going to warn you,” he murmurs near your temple, voice silked with cruel satisfaction. “But you just had to be difficult.”

You half turn in his arms, scowling, exhausted. “You enjoyed it.”

His teeth flash. “Of course I did.”

He reaches for a cloth, dips it into the steaming water, and wrings it out with a lazy flick of his wrist. The motion is slow, like the way a man sharpens a blade, not because he needs to, but because he enjoys the ritual of it.

Then he touches you.

The cloth slides up your thigh. Gentle. Unreasonably gentle.

You flinch. He feels it.

“I’m not him,” he says, low and close behind your ear.

The cloth moves higher, over the place where his fingers left bruises. It’s tender, the touch. Not apologetic, but… reverent.

You close your eyes. “I know.”

He doesn’t reply.

Just continues, slow, precise. Cleaning you as though you belong to him and no one else may touch. The cloth traces your waist, your belly, your breasts. Over the angry red marks blooming on your throat.

“Filthy little thing,” he says, almost absently, as if it’s a compliment. “Look what I’ve done to you.”

You shift against him, half-hearted. “Is this what passes for aftercare in the palace?”

“I could leave you filthy, if you prefer,” he offers, mock-casual, dragging the cloth up between your legs now with unbearable slowness.

Your breath catches.

He smirks against your neck. “Didn’t think so.”

His free hand is splayed across your stomach, keeping you against his chest. You’re in his lap, flushed and quiet.

When he finishes, he doesn’t speak. Just leans forward, pushing your wet hair aside to press his mouth once to your shoulder, unhurried, like claiming land he already owns.

Then he reaches for a towel, presses it into your hands.

“You can walk,” he says. “Or I can carry you back.”

“I can walk,” you mutter again, clutching the towel.

He raises an eyebrow. “You’re bleeding a little.”

You pause. Then glare.

“From me,” he adds, calm as marble. “You’ll forgive my pride.”

You turn away before he can see your face twist with fury, and shame, and something deeper, quieter, that gnaws at your ribs.

But you only make it a step before he steps into your space and lifts you again, without asking, without effort, arms locked tight beneath your knees and back. The towel shifts, slipping down one shoulder.

“Lucius-”

“I’ll carry what’s mine.”

You tense, heart pounding, as he strides from the bathchamber bare-chested and unbothered, with you cradled like a spoil of war.

And then, the worst.

Not a servant.

A senator.

A senior one, older, important. His brows lift, his jaw tightens, and for a long moment he simply stares.

You freeze in Lucius’ arms.

Mortified.

Bare legs, damp collarbone, bitten lips.

You try to twist, to cover your face in his chest, but the towel shifts again, and Lucius doesn’t even slow his pace.

“Domitius,” he says, cool and smooth as ever.

“Emperor,” the man replies after a beat, eyes still sharp with thinly veiled judgement.

Lucius only smiles.

Then shifts his grip around you, just enough to make it clear you’re not just some fleeting mistress. No, he’s holding you like a bride.

“You’re not dismissing him?” you whisper furiously as they pass.

“Why would I?” he murmurs. “Let him tell the court how you looked when I was carrying you home.”

He chuckles low in his throat. “Shall I walk slower?”

“You’re disgusting.”

“And you’re trembling. Again.”

He carries you back into his bedchamber like nothing happened.

Deposits you on the rumpled sheets with the same hands that had bruised your thighs and cupped your face like glass.

Lucius lies beside you. He doesn’t reach for you. Just watches.

The fire’s down to embers now, and for a moment, it’s quiet.

“You’ll hate me again tomorrow,” he murmurs, eyes on the ceiling.

You turn your head toward him. His hair’s a mess. A dark curl falls over his forehead. He doesn’t brush it away.

“I already do.”

There’s no heat in the words anymore. Just a strange, exhausted ache. Like you’ve both burned through something and don’t know what’s left.

You lie in silence.

Until, after a long while, you feel his arm shift and settle across your waist. Not tight. Not demanding.

Just there.

You don’t move.

He breathes, slow and steady, and just before you drift, you feel him press his forehead into your shoulder.

Almost like he’s praying.

You wake to sunlight cutting sharp across the marble floor.

The bed is warm. Too warm. Your legs are tangled in silken sheets, and your mouth tastes of salt and heat and something darker still. You shift and wince.

Everything aches.

Your thighs. Your hips. Your throat.

You drag the cover up as you sit, slowly, wincing again when the bruises sing beneath your skin. There are fresh marks on your wrists. On your collarbone. Teeth, fingers, his name written across your body in touches no one will dare speak of aloud, but everyone will know.

The door creaks.

Lucius enters fully clothed.

Hair swept back. Tunic dark and rich, imperial red. There’s a goblet in his hand and a parchment tucked under one arm.

He looks at you like a man admiring the aftermath of war.

“Sleep well, betrothed?”

You glare. “Barely.”

A slow smirk.

He steps forward, sets the goblet down beside the bed and takes the seat across from you like you’re in court again.

“I expect the palace has already heard.”

“I expect the city has.”

He tilts his head. “Let them. What can they do?”

You stare at him, this man who had torn you open with teeth and hands and never once begged forgiveness. He’s not softened in daylight.

You pull the covers tighter.

He watches.

“Say it,” you snap, before you can stop yourself.

“Say what?”

Whatever insult he’s been sitting on. Whatever cruel line he’s crafted for the moment he saw you like this, rumpled, silent, aching from him.

Instead, he leans forward, rests his elbows on his knees.

“I like you better ruined.”

Your breath catches.

And he smiles, slow and hungry, like he already knows that when he touches you again, you won’t fight quite as hard.

I'm so tempted to write a part two to this, but I have another Lucius fic idea I want to write first. If anyone would be interested in a part two to this, lemme know and I can bump it up in my priorities 🤗

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vamptarotscam · 3 months ago

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@vamptarot IS A SCAMMER.

You seriously thought you could get away with this a second time? Not a chance. SHE ALSO DELETED HER SCAMMY POST.

PART TWO: https://www.tumblr.com/vamptarotscam/782090594830991360/i-got-more-proof-that-vamptarot-is-scamming?source=share

I will provide PROOF AND SCREENSHOTS.

DO NOT DONATE TO THIS PERSON UNDER NO CIRCUMSTANCES.

Yes, this is the second time @vamptarot plays this game with her followers, instigating fake symptoms, lying and scamming. The first scam attempt is documented here: https://www.tumblr.com/vamptarot/771257380903288832/hello-i-am-sorry-for-the-mis-use-of-tags-i-will?source=share.

This is simply disgusting behaviour. Lying about injuries, illnesses, symptoms so that people could buy her readings or donate out of sympathy (and she KNOWS people on Tumblr are more susceptible to this, they will donate to the right cause). She always does this, she invents a fake sob story and then she says she's not asking for donations or that she's too ashamed to do so, yet asks people to help her without any proof whatsoever (because there is obviously no proof).

It’s funny how @vamptarot always claims she doesn't share links publicly because she "feels uncomfortable," yet the only thing that’s uncomfortable here is her blatant scam. If you don’t want to be caught scamming, then maybe don’t request money through DMs, where you can hide behind the anonymity of your naive followers' trust. And let’s not forget how she always magically “needs” large sums of money (1200 pounds last time) where healthcare is FREE. Especially emergency healthcare that she claims to be in need of. Do you really think people will buy the sob story about needing 1200 pounds for "treatment" that’s apparently so urgent it can’t wait for any sort of proof? If it was so dire, why are you pulling random numbers out of thin air to manipulate followers? It doesn’t add up. You know why? Because it’s all an act. You can see this from her blog's activity too, she comes back only when she needs money from her unfortunately very young and gullible followers. And she makes numbers only when she comes up with fake stories and illnesses, how interesting. Maybe it's because she's willingly manipulating young impressionable users to donate to a fake cause? Absolutely reprehensible. Proof:

These aren’t just "unfortunate circumstances", this is a pattern. It is a known scam tactic that's been around years and years before smarty pants could do it on Tumblr.

She's done this before, and she's trying to do it again. She knows that many people on Tumblr are empathetic, and she'll exploit that kindness for her own gain. Don’t fall for it. Trust your gut and stay far away from anyone who tries to manipulate you with extreme emotional circumstances like this.

ALSO, she deleted her latest scam post because she finally got exposed by my account but I will share screenshots that a very kind individual has sent me about their interaction with this disgusting scammer. The individual's name is censored as per their request. RESPECT THEIR PRIVACY.

In her latest post our beloved scammer @vamptarot tried to claim a mysterious illness with fainting symptoms that would make her "slip in and out of consciousness". Extremely vague, perfect for naive Tumblr users (who are mostly minors by the way, just mentioning that). She also claimed that she needed URGENTLY 3400 pounds in the next 10 hours (a very famous scam tactic) or that she might "die".

Then she suddenly claimed that she needed ONLY 450 pounds, 10 hours after she made that post. Interesting. I DO NOT have the original post's screenshot but we have @spiritstalking ask to rely upon:

Nice try sweetheart. Unfortunately some users fell for this. It is extremely depressing to see young kids fall for those scams, because they do not know better.

As you can see, she also claimed that she needed donations in less than ten hours or it might be "too late" for her. Poor soul. Again, emergency healthcare such as in this case (slipping in and out of consciousness🤣🤣🤣) is free. Yet another emotional manipulation tactic. As I said, it's disgusting.

Also, she claimed that she was on the verge of dying, being extremely ill but she also had time to think about PACS? AND INTERACT ON TUMBLR TOO? She tried to make it all seem so real that she even stayed online 24/7 to talk to the users she scammed.

And wow, now she’s acting all innocent, saying that people gossiping about her is "inhumane." Sweetie, we’re not gossiping, we’re exposing a scam you decided to do.

If you’re really that innocent, why do you keep changing the narrative? You’ve been caught making excuses and pulling out random sob stories for cash, guess that’s just the reality of running a fake blog.

HERE'S THE SCREENSHOTS PROOF:

It’s honestly wild how chronically online @vamptarot is while claiming to be slipping in and out of consciousness, barely able to function due to “illness.” I mean, a person who’s supposedly fighting for their life can barely send a message, let alone respond instantly on Tumblr??????? But guess what? She’s ALWAYS there to reply to her donors within minutes. truly the epitome of someone “dying” from their condition. 🧐

Oh, and then the classic scam move: telling the user to send money to her “friend’s” PayPal... except her “friend” has the exact same name as her. What a coincidence! 🥴 That’s not even a red flag, it’s a burning tower. For real, how dumb does she think people are? A friend’s PayPal? More like her PayPal, dressed up in a bad disguise.

Let’s not forget the emotional manipulation here. She messed up, said it was her PayPal, and when caught, instantly tried to backpedal with the excuse of having “brain fog” because of anxiety and pain. But apparently, that anxiety and pain don’t stop her from begging for donations? Come on. If you’re so “stricken” with these issues, how are you managing to twist your words so perfectly to squeeze money out of people? INTERESTING.

And then, to top it off, offering to give out her friends' bank details for even more donations? Classic scam. Get as many ways as possible to extract money from people’s wallets. But here's the kicker: she can’t even access the money the user sent for the next three days? THIS IS A HUGE ORGANIZED SCAM.

This whole situation is a mess, and honestly, it’s getting tiresome. Be careful who you trust, because this is as shady as it gets.

Also, @vamptarot tell everyone how you were planning to delete your disgusting scamming post from the start because you didn't want to "STAIN" your account. You knew what you were doing from the start. You knew you were scamming people and that somebody would eventually catch on.

You are a reprehensible human being and I strongly suggest you to refund the money you stole from users. Can we just talk about how conveniently her post was deleted once people started catching on? A classic move when you know you've been called out for your scam. If everything was so “legit,” why is the post suddenly gone? Again you knew what you were doing and you know you're wrong as hell for this.

PLEASE REBLOG TO SPREAD AWARENESS AND TO KEEP SCAMMERS OUT OF THE TAROT COMMUNITY. THIS IS VILE STUFF.

Once again, shame on you @vamptarot. Do better.

It's honestly disgusting to see someone manipulate and extort vulnerable users into donating for a fake illness. Preying on people’s empathy for personal gain is nothing short of reprehensible. Don’t let yourself be fooled.

PLEASE HELP US SPREAD AWARENESS. PLEASE DO NOT DONATE TO THIS USER. DO NOT GET SCAMMED.

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cynthiav06 · 6 months ago

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Respectfully, did Percy Jackson even have any character development throughout the original series?

He doesn't have any flaws. He chose to take the prophecy from Nico, but he was always going to be the prophecy child.

He's good at the start and good at the end with no development unless you count being traumatised and depressed from a war as development, which it's not.

Not trying to be rude, sorry if I seem rude.

Worry not. It's a perfectly reasonable question and should usually be applied to most character studies. Also, buckle up. This is going to be long. Very long. It took me a while to get the time to post this and even more time to actually get my thoughts together. Like a lot of time. (To anyone who doesn't want to read the horrid mess of a post this is there's a partition at the end, after which all the most important points are summarized. ) Just skip to that, but hopefully, someone reads this whole thing because it took me eons to write.

I can see why you think that way, and it is contributed more so by Rick's absolute incapability of not recycling the dead horse that is the original pjo dynamics. He has inhibited character growth from almost every single character where all their epiphanies and character change in the end amounts to nothing, and they regress back to how they used to be, and any and all deviations their personality had are either dismissed or suppressed.

Percy is the victim of the latter. In the first book, he was a child, not particularly concerned with saving the world or being a halfblood. His life had been worse enough, and the halfblood situation had made it abysmal. Percy was living goal by goal. He wanted to get through the field trip, then through the semester, then through the Gabe interactions all so he could finally see his Mom, the one good thing about his life. Then that upends completely, and his only reprieve, the trip to Montauk, his safe place becomes the start of a series of grand tragedies in his life.

Sure, he stayed at the Camp, not willingly but for safety. He had nowhere to go, his life had been turned upside down, his mother was dead, and he wanted to go home, to have his mother back. He couldn't have cared less about the Gods and the world ending, but as soon as Chiron mentions Underworld, Percy is back on solid ground. He has a goal again. Get Sally back. He does everything to reach that goal. He fights monsters, prays to a godly father he refused to acknowledge beforehand, manipulate the press and the Gabe situation, bargain with immortal deities and such, and negotiate his way out of most of those bargains. All the while keeping in mind that he has a traitor to deal with, but Percy is the definition of "deal with one thing at a time. If it's not an immediate concern, it can wait." He does all that and is rewarded for it by being able to live, getting his mother back, and a taste of the life he has doomed himself to, and he almost seems to accept it. He even wonders if Camp Half Blood could be his home.

We see Percy do this throughout all the books. He is constantly changing his intentions, his goals, and his opinions on everything. He is also caught in his internal conflict of being with or against the Gods. The thing is, Percy has very little time for reflection as he is jumping from one existential threat to another, and yet he still manages to grow in the small ways. You need to see it individually book wise rather than over the whole series as Rick messes up terribly with character arcs and developments of literally every other character.

He begins by not caring about Poseidon's existence or his proximity, but in the end, he, too, is beholden to the intrinsic need of having a father. He, too, wants Poseidon to care for him like a father and is therefore hurt by being called a mistake. He knows Poseidon claimed him as a weapon against Zeus so he could rectify someone else's mistakes and restore Poseidon's reputation; who if not Percy would understand this manipulation the best? But the best lies are the ones you want to believe in, and so Percy keeps his silence because, of course, he wants to believe his father genuinely cares for him and loves him. Who doesn't?

He didn't want to be the hero, but by the end of the first book, when he is called one, he doesn't dislike the feeling. He accepts if only a little that this is to be his life now, and as the series progresses, he adds to the pros and cons.

In the Sea of Monsters he is very happy that Gabe is gone and it's just him and his mother again but by the end of it he has gained a new family member in Tyson and is very happy of the fact. He even manages to get over his initial hostility of Clarisse somewhat when he understands her situation.

Titan's Curse is all about Percy learning about the number of forces at play in the world of demigods. He tries to get along with the Hunters and Thalia; it doesn't work. He ends up almost losing Annabeth, someone who he considers a close friend by now. And so we see Percy spiral a little, show more of his anger issues as he interacts with Thalia or even Young Nico just after Annabeth falls from the cliff. Angry and impatient, he goes on his own quest.

I know most readers remember it as Percy, Annabeth, and Grover or the main cast always working together, but it's almost never like that. Somewhere along the way, Percy always ends up doing his own thing, which works because he best works on improvisations. It's Percy's plans that always end up working the most more so than Annabeth's. Just putting it out there.

Then it's just Percy having the worst month of his life. Annabeth is in mortal danger. No one seems to be hearing his opinions between Thalia and the Hunters. Then Bianca dies and Percy because he is Percy is completely and utterly guilty over it.

Note that Percy says he will do his best to keep Biancs safe and not outright promise to keep Bianca safe. But his non-existent self-esteem and other factors withstanding he blamed himself for it completely. Then Zoe dies, and Percy has lost yet another person he thought he needed to keep safe.

Percy is angry at the gods, but he is not surprised by their actions. But he is Percy, and he is determined to change the ways of Olympus, so he pressures the Council and his father to keep the Ophiptaurus, the very creature that threatens to topple their rule. It's his small was of rebelling, and Percy is always rebelling against the gods in his own way, almost never playing into their hands because as much as he despises Luke, he agrees with Luke too and unless he finds a better way to deal with the situation than what Luke is employing he too would have to one day follow in Luke's footsteps.

Now Percy, who trusts Chiron, even thinks of him as a secondary father figure realizes that Chiron for all his compassion for mortals and demigods will always in the end do the bidding of the Gods'. So he makes the snap decision to hide Nico's parentage from Chiron and from everyone else because Percy realizes no matter how much he loves or cares for certain people in his life, they are beholden to answer to a higher power he cannot gainsay, so he will have to take some secrets to the grave. He learns that in the end, some things he needs to shoulder himself.

And of course, the guilt of Bianca's death is no lesser, so he does the only thing he thinks can give him some relief from it. He takes the prophecy for himself, saving Nico and hoping it's enough to alleviate himself of this bile inducing sensation in his gut called guilt that is swallowing him whole.

Now, the Battle of Labyrinth is the most crucial. This is the book with maximum stress on Percy from all ends. From Sally dating Paul and Percy having to prove he is worth Paul's confidence in him in Goode, from Annabeth who is quite literally snippy and passive aggressive through the whole book either due to Rachel or due to her own prophecy even though Rachel and Percy are the two people who got them all out. Then there's the Nico situation. He knows Nico is spiraling, which is making Percy spiral and further strengthening his own guilt. And on top of all this, the Luke situation. Percy is literally caught between an enclosed space, with all four sides closing in on him rapidly while he is fending off mortal danger.

All this repressed tension is fully let loose when he explodes Mt. Helen's. And this is the tipping point. Percy wants to take the choice of Calypso's Island if only briefly and not because he loves her or anything of the sort but because it's his one escape. From everything from his own doomed prophecy. Yet again, Percy is trapped by his own fatal flaw. Personal Loyalty. So he chooses to carry out his responsibility because he has given himself no other choice.

If that wasn't enough of self-realization, he is faced with the horrifying realization of the devastation his power has wrought. His loss of control has single handedly released the greatest threat to Olympus. Hephaestus tells Percy he doesn't know the limits of his own, and by the gods, does that terrify Percy. Up until now, Percy knew his powers were dangerous, but now he knows that he is also dangerous; that he is the real danger. And it's not a reality he wants to ever confront, so he coils his power and holds it tight in a leash. (It's why Percy's burts of power always begin with an unraveling sensation in his gut or something breaking inside himself)

He is somewhat soothed by Poseidon's reassurance because not only does Poseidon not blame him, he also solidifies Percy's faith that he is doing the right thing. And if Poseidon sprinkles in the fact that Percy is the favorite child then who is he to deny himself the comfort of such sweet lies because, of course, Percy thinks it's a lie and of course Percy basks in it. He knows better than to trust gods, he knows better than to trust even his own allies because at the times like this, they will do and say anything to appease him, after all the fate of Olympus depends on him, does it not? And neither the Gods nor the demigods will risk a falling out with him at times like this.

He asks his father if he can help but is denied because he is needed here. Then he does his job as told, and Charlie dies. It's on him. He is struck with twice as much guilt. Over Beckendorf, and then over the state of Atlantis. He asks again if he can help his father and is denied again yet scorned by his father's family, for he can't even help them with the mess he started (or so he believes).

This is why Percy goes with Nico's plan of using the Styx. Because he assumes Nico of all people who already hated him has no reason to curry for his favor. But he makes a mistake. After all, Nico needs his father's favor, and Hades needs Percy gone. Percy can't really blame the kid, but he does anyway because why not? He is angry, he is furious, and everything is slipping from his fingers. He is going to die. Everyone is going to die, and it's all on him. It's all his fault, AGAIN. So he rages at Nico because for at least one single moment, he wishes this were someone else's burden, especially Nico's, but Percy's taken it for himself, and it's too late to back out now.

So he fights and manipulates and negotiates. Titans, River gods, his own demigods. Because don't forget Percy knows there's a mole and that's also his problem. Everything is his problem. All that work and so many dead. Silena, Michael, Ethan, and many more on both sides, and he is trying everything he can to make it better to fix things because, again, he thinks it's his fault. Imagine doing all that, and Rachel tells him he is not the hero, and Percy bristles because no, he doesn't want to be a hero, but of course, it offends him. Because, if he's not the hero, then it's not his burden, and then what the hell is he doing all this for if, in the end, he is not the hero that can save Olympus? Does that mean he read the prophecy wrong, and now he is going to get everyone killed because he wrongly assumed he isn't the hero. He is angry and impulsive, and he snaps at even Hermes. Because now HE is spiraling.

And somehow, it's all over with Luke killing himself, and it dawns on Percy, the truth. So despite all the hate because why wouldn't there be hate, Luke has singlehandedly tried to kill Percy more than Percy can count, and he calls Luke the Hero. Makes the choice because he believes in Annabeth's faith and Hermes's faith in Luke. It pays off and that's all that matters.

Finally finally it is all over. the Gods owe him, and finally, he has an answer on the path he wants to take to change the gods. He denies immortality because he is Percy Jackson, he is Sally Jackson's son and he knows better than to let others dictate the flow of his life, because he has better plans than wasting away inside for eternity, dancing on someone else's tune. He fights for the demigods, the non-Olympian gods and their children who Olympus has failed to do justice to, for Nico, and in some way for himself.

Then it's not over at all because Rachel has taken Blackjack and Percy knows the truth of the Oracle and he loves Rachel far too much to let her even try. But it works and she is okay; he can't be with her but she is alive and she is okay and Percy is extremely grateful for that.

But then there's a new prophecy, and even though he tries to find some peace with Annabeth, he knows it's not over. It's never over for him. But he can forget about it until he can no longer afford to ignore it.

___________________________________________

Of course, Percy repressed his trauma. The last time he let it out, he released the literal bane of the gods out. Do you think Percy could live with something like that happening again? What choice does he have? There's no one who can understand him. NO ONE. Not even Annabeth.

You can see him accept his role as a leader and grow more into it. In son of Sobek or even in Son of Neptune. He is more serious and more authoritative because he has so many people depending on him, so many expectations hanging on him. We can also see Percy's anger issues get out of hand. He is spiraling, the readers know he is spiraling, and Percy knows, but he can't do ANYTHING. HE IS LITETALLY DYING OR BEING ATTACKED, HE CAN'T, HE JUST CAN'T.

BUT WE KNOW IT'S THERE BECAUSE WE CAN SEE HOW MUCH PERCY HAS GROWN INTO SUICIDAL TENDENCIES. AND HE CAN'T ACT ON THEM MOST OF THE TIME BECAUSE OTHER PEOPLE ARE DEPENDENT ON HIM AND HIS FATAL FLAW WON'T ALLOW HIM TO PUT HIMSELF OUT OF HIS MISERY.

BUT WHEN HE HAS DONE EVERYTHING HE POSSIBLY COULD, AFTER HOUSE OF HADES, HE LETS POLYBOTES'S POISON CHOKE HIM, ALMOST KILLING HIM IF JASON HADN'T INTERVENED. THANK GOD FOR JASON GRACE.

Percy was this sassy, heavily independent, "I do my own thing" kid and now he is someone with more responsibilities than anyone with most of his free will stripped and most of his hopes ruined or deemed impossible. IT'S TRAGIC AND IT'S EXCRUCIATING AND HE CAN'T DO ANYTHING BECAUSE HE THINKS IT'S MAKING OTHERS HAPPY. IT'S SUCH A HORRIBLE SITUATION. IMAGINE BOOK 1 PERCY? HE WOULD HAVE LET IT BLOW UP IN EVERYONE ELSE'S FACE BEFORE HE EVER LET HIMSELF BE SO BROKEN.

I have seen so many people say how Percy is the standard hero who is always good and never makes bad choices, and I wonder which books they read. Percy always makes the supposed "right" choices at the cost of himself. His fatal flaw enabling his moral compass and the sheer guilt of the lives lost. He can't escape. He hates the gods, he hates the quests but he loves his family and friends so dearly, there's nothing he wouldn't do for them which means Percy is suffocating, drowning, choking in his own misery, his repressed trauma,his self loathing and being crushed to death by the weight of lives, responsibilities and expectations only he can hope to fulfil.

And one day Percy won't be able to take it. His lapses of control will increase in magnitudes so great, his inner rage will level the world. Destroyer, like Athena predicted, Destroyer like Kronos wanted and Destroyer like his name means.

Not every hero needs a villain arc. Percy is inspiring because after all this shit and all these horrors. He is still good, but WE NEED TO UNDERSTAND THE TOLL OF IT. PERCY IS STILL GOOD BUT AT WHAT COST? LOOK WHAT IT'S DONE TO HIM.

Rick has such a great potential for an arc like that but he is going to fuck it up, I know he is but I hope readers realize where it's all leading to and how much Percy has changed and how much he has sacrificed. Also, @hermesmyplatonicbeloved , @ogjacksonsimp , @cynicalclairvoyantcadaver , @helenofsparta2, @fourcornersofcreation thoughts? Did I stray too far from the canon, or am I getting it right at least a little? Because this post took days, I have no idea what it has devolved into.

#percy jackson character study #i am no longer sane after this post #i am taking a break after this. it turned out to be so long #pjo headcanons #rr crit #percy jackson #percy and rachel #percy jackson and annabeth chase #hoo #percy jackson and the olympians #the seven pjo #jason grace #luke castellan #percy jackson supremacy

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daily-usopp-doodles · 2 months ago

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Hi again! Can I please request mermaid ‘Sopp? Thank you and thanks for the great daily Usopps!!! <3

Daily usopp doodles - day 31

[Image ID in alt text]

Happy one month of Usopp!!!!!!!

I have a few things to say here so I’m putting it under the cut for those who are more interested in the art!

First off, thank you all so much for the support I’ve been getting so far! Any tags and comments y’all leave always make me smile :-]

Next, I’m sorry that this mer design is a little basic! Truly I was running out of time today so it was a touch rushed.

I do have a mermaid one piece au, but it doesn’t necessarily involve usopp as a merman which is why I went for this instead. I may make more thought out designs for the strawhats as mermaids if y’all would like that

Also happy mermay!

Alright, NOW! First I just wanna encourage y’all to send asks because I really do love them and they help me make y’all a unique usopp daily.

They can be simple (like a certain outfit / arc, or usopp with another character) or more complex (usopp with several characters, an usopp design for an AU, or even a comic idea!)

I’d also just love to see usopp content! Art you’ve drawn that you’d like me to feature as the daily sopp, for instance!

Also headcannons, memes, or even fic recommendations!

Basically what I’m saying is: I don’t bite! I’d love to interact with any of you more here or on my main! So always feel free to send an ask or a comment on either account

And next, id also love to know if theres any particular kinds of sopps you’d be more interested in? I can’t make any promises of course but im curious what y’all would like to see.

(Examples: more traditional art, more meme redraws / funny posts, canon outfits, original outfits)

Anyways, I think that’s all I have to say. Thanks again so much and happy 31 days of usopping!!!!!

#daily sopp #pre timeskip #described #god usopp #one piece #one piece fanart #usopp #image description in alt #one piece usopp #op usopp #usopp fanart #sniper king usopp #op fanart #mermaid au #mer au #mermaid

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merbear25 · 1 year ago

Text

Can you do Law, Zoro, and Ace x their beautiful S/O who is really really shy, but she gets a lot of attention because of her beauty and she gets really stressed and overwhelmed. ~ requested by anon

I’m so sorry that I deleted the original ask!! There was a weird glitch when I posted a different one yesterday where I accidentally posted that request to this one. Anyway, glad I copied it to another doc! I hope you like what I’ve written for you. 💜💜

CW: fluff, headcanons, fem!reader in mind but nothing specific mentioned

With a beautiful and bashful reader (Law, Zoro, Ace)

Law

He was incredibly observant—noticing reactions you’d make without you yourself realizing there was a pattern.

With your beauty attracting (mostly) unwanted attention, he did his best to steer others away from you, preferably without you noticing them at all.

Since you weren’t the confrontational type, shying away from the ones who got a bit too familiar with you, he made sure to step in to handle the situation. From his intimidation alone, they scampered away.

He’d be fairly protective over you, meaning he’d tend to stay close to your side or nearby. However, there were bound to be times he wouldn’t be able to be next to you.

Wanting to be sure you could work your way out of a nerve-wracking predicament, you’d spend a long time going over what you should do if x, y, or z happened.

Though it was far from ideal for either of you, it him some peace of mind that you could manage without him.

Zoro

It was obvious that you were shy and that it only became more difficult for you when others gave you that attention. It was more unfortunate for those who couldn’t take the hint than it was for you—being swatted away by Zoro wasn’t the most pleasant thing after all.

He was always the protective type—knowing you and his friends were safe was of high priority to him, as it would be for anyone.

That being said, he wasn’t going to suffocate you. He wanted you to have that independence to explore and experience things, so he wasn’t necessarily going to be hanging around you all throughout the day.

In saying that, he still kept an eye on you, especially when in crowded areas. Staying by your side, practically acting as a guard dog, his presence warded off any who so much as thought of flirting with you.

His temper wasn’t one that could easily be ignited. When it came to keeping you and others safe, remaining level-headed in the heat of the moment came naturally.

He didn’t even realize how much you needed someone like that, though. The rock that wouldn’t budge, even when you were being shaken to your core—it did more than he could ever understand.

Ace

As much as he thought your shyness was endearing and sweet, he wasn’t too fond of others giving you that same type of attention. Knowing that you didn’t like it either only gave him more of a reason to shield you from it.

Whenever you got stressed from the amount of attention you attracted, he was good at keeping you from spiraling.

Giving you stability that also came with a light-hearted smile helped ease your nerves, keeping that whirlwind of emotions from swooping you up in the storm.

Although he didn’t look extremely intimidating, he had his ways of getting people off your back.

He had charm and was good with people and when those mixed with his dash of mischief, he could easily trick them or distract them. It never took long after he swooped in to send them away practically forgetting the main reason why they’d come up to you.

Even if he was deeply bothered by how much those interactions weighed on you, his bright smile and laid back demeanor didn’t falter when he turned his attention back to you—just wanting to show you that everything would be okay.

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that-ghosts-art · 7 months ago

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Happy 10 Year Anniversary @transcendence-au ! It is with great pleasure that I present the culmination of about 2 months worth of work with this lil comic o mine ^-^

The full thing is below the read more, as safe to say, this got a little longer than I initially anticipated haha (also tumblr did what tumblr does best and destroyed the quality so please click the images for better quality :3)

Thank you so much for reading my comic, I worked really hard on this, pretty much since the competition was announced and I am so happy with how it turned out ^-^

I still can't believe the Transcendence AU is Ten years old, or that I've been a part of this wonderful community for eight of those years!

Some quick shout outs, while I had this idea before this was shared This post on the blog did influence the direction I went at the end, I just love the idea on Alcor and the Axolotl interacting, especially during the God-cor story arc (speaking of I place this comic as being near the beginning of this phase of his life).

I also heavily worked off of Dipper and Mabel and the Cure of the Time Pirates Treasure (A Select Your Own Choose-venture) as I felt that was a good starting point for these two getting to know each other (Also disclaimer I did initially trace the image of the shack before breaking it apart, feel like I should mention that).

Quick list of TAU characters featured (In order of appearance) we have:

Torako and a little Bentley by @skia-oura

Maria, Brad, Thomas (using This design by @justarestlessspirit), and Eddie, AKA the Demonology Gang by Dementor_ssc

Willow, Acacia, Hank and Henry by @seiya234

Maddie and Toby

Lucy-Ann

Al-V

and Miscellaneous members of The Flock (sorry not actually sure who to credit for these last few, please let me know if you know!)

Finally one last thank you to everyone who have made this AU what it it, thank you to the people who made the characters above, thank you to the people who wrote the most incredible stories I've ever ready, made the most amazing art I've ever been, and just thank you to everyone for making this such a wonderful little slice of the internet <3

And of course Thank you to @zillychu for sharing the original idea that started this all <3

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softlypaintedseafoam · 5 months ago

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the summer moon was born from the waves to be loved pt 2

synopsis. you got pregnant and satoru has to put together the pieces five years later.

pairing. gojou satoru x f!reader (afab)

word count. 7k | masterlist

content warning. 18+ (smut with feelings), college au, friends to friends with benefits to co-parents to lovers (what a pipeline), mild angst with a happy ending, use of y/n

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

and finally, part 2 is here! if you'd like to read part 1, click here if you already haven't since you will need the context to build off this one. this series is very near and dear to my heart and it's nice to have it here on this blog as well. fun fact this originally had a co-parent only ending but after writing satoru's pov, i felt so bad i couldn't commit. sorry nanami, better luck next time

o. buoy

If Satoru was forced to use some sort of ocean-related terminology to describe you, he’d say you’re a buoy.

You were the marine biology major. (What was the difference between that and oceanography? Satoru had no idea. You explained it to him at least twice though). Because of that, Satoru heard his fair share of marine terminology from you.

Buoys were those floating things at sea, the ones from Finding Nemo that had all the seagulls on it. You said they were guiding posts, gave heads up for reefs or they could be warnings for hazardous zones.

To Satoru, you were like an anchorless buoy that ー no matter how far he sailed ー he could never reach.

i. halocline

You’ve never felt permanent; not to Satoru.

You sooner felt like one of those quickly formed friendships you thought would last forever only for it to dwindle out as fast as it started. Then that person was just a forgotten name in your contacts list until you’re scrolling down and going ‘Who the hell is this? Delete’ without a second thought.

It was strange.

An oxymoron of the highest degree.

How did someone who was such a constant in his life from the moment you set foot in it simultaneously feel as impermanent as foam on the waves? One minute you were there, the next you weren’t. Satoru wasn’t sure when the fear of you disappearing entirely crept in.

When those looks started appearing on your face.

All he knew was that it started long before he started sleeping with you and it started long before you left.

One moment you’re hanging out ー undoubtedly doing something stupid. Singing the wrong lyrics to a song on the radio, putting Suguru’s hair in pigtails, watching María la del Barrio with Utahime who took one Spanish class and made telenovelas her entire personality for a month ー then you’d grow quiet and this far away look would be in your eyes. Satoru never knew where you went in those moments, but it wasn’t there.

So he’d do something to anchor you back to land. It didn’t have to be much.

A poke to the cheek,

a tickle to your side,

calling out to you,

sometimes he’d even play with your fingers.

It didn’t matter what he did as long as you’d blink and grin and go “what’s up?” and everything would feel right in the world.

It never would feel right long enough though; the look always came back and the feeling would persist.

When you sang songs in the car.

(“I can do it fast or slow, it really doesn’t matter, though. ‘Cause I’m a pro, what you say? You wanna take me toe to toe? Uh no, dude, I think so,” you’d rap Kel’s verse flawlessly like you’d rehearsed it for hours. “My style is phat and Immature’s got my back on this funky trackー” you pointed at Satoru enthusiastically.

“You want fries with that?” Satoru would point back with way too much passion for a line that went way too hard for what he was actually saying. “Coo coo ca-choo whatcha gonna do?”

Shoko would roll her eyes but she’d still be smiling when Suguru softly brought in the chorus with rhythmic bumps of his head, “watch me do my thing, I like to do my thing, watch me do my thing, everybody sayー”

Your head continued to bump along but you stopped singing along and looked out the window. Satoru remembered he threw his arm around your shoulders loudly belting the rest of the lyrics until you laughed and joined back in.)

When you indulged Utahime’s telenovela personality change.

(“[First], quit zoning out. I’m bored.”

“Hey, unlike you, I’m actually paying attention.”

“Oh yeah, then what’s been going on?”

“Soraya Montenegro is gasping in Spanish right now.”

“Can you both shut u- OH MY GODー”

“IS NO ONE GONNA STOP THIS BITCH?”)

And at parties.

(Satoru always knew you were about to leave when you made that face. Things could start perfectly at the beginning of the night. You’d finally skulk out of your cave like you were Gollum from Lord of the Rings and wave him over. The next moment? You were in deep thought while your friends made joke after joke, rip after rip.

“Sorry gang, but my lips don’t touch anything but Don Equis and Asahi,” you’d say with an air of regality not suited for a party of college students. “Maybe Corona if there’s nothing else. I’m not drinking… whatever this is. So I’m gonna head out, there’s a 24 hour liquor store around here somewhere.”

“You coming back?” Satoru didn’t know why he asked, he already knew what your answer would be.

“Nah, I think I’m done for the night. I’ll catch you guys later though.”

“I’ll walk you back to your place then.”)

He doesn’t know why he looked at your lips that night at the park.

You were friends, he liked being your friend. That’s all there was to it. It had always annoyed him up until that point when Suguru and Shoko joked the two of you were more like a couple than anything else. That he chased after you like a lovesick puppy, the pathetic but funny kind. He wasn’t sure why it annoyed him so much.

Maybe it was because it felt like it reduced everything about his friendship with you into that shit take that the opposite sex couldn’t just be friends.

Maybe it was something else entirely. He doesn’t know.

You weren’t permanent.

Not while you sat beside him in a park at who knows when in the morning and not even when you reassured him his life would work out the way he wanted and you touched him like he was something precious to you.

“Be careful I don’t disappear for months, spirited away by the sea folk on my Children of the Sea shit. I’ll come back to shore occasionally, mysterious as the sea itself.” You already were as mysterious as the sea itself.

“Even if you got spirited away, I’d just go and bring you right back.” Satoru meant it. Even if, more than anything, it felt more like he was making that promise to reassure himself. It didn’t matter how far off to the sea you went as long as Satoru could bring you back to the shore. “You’ve doomed yourself.” More specifically you said that to him. Maybe he should have taken it more of a warning than a light-hearted nudge.

“You said it first, remember?” You did. He remembered it as clear as day. He’d stumbled onto an unstable boat and you were a buoy far off in the distance.

“There’s no ditching me now, not even at sea.” So stay. That’s all Satoru needed you to do.

The sprinklers that decided to join in on the moment must have been a sign that he was in the middle of a prophecy that was going to be fulfilled whether he wanted it to or not. That’s why he kissed you first in the doorway of your bathroom when you just came to ask if he wanted tea.

Buoys are supposed to have anchors, right?

Maybe he could be yours.

When Satoru woke up the day after the first time you slept together, he woke up alone.

It wasn’t until he reached out an arm lazily to your side of the bed and he patted the mattress several times that he realized no one was there. The bed had long since gone cold so you had to have been gone for a while. Yes, you called five minutes later from McDonald’s cheerily going “Yooo, Satoru, I’m at Mickey D’s, what do you want?” Still it cemented your impermanence and that was only the first of many times he woke up by himself.

You could be out the house or in; Satoru preferred when you were in. Sometimes you’d be in the kitchen humming some unknown tune, other times you’d be watching TV on the couch. Either way, he could drape himself over you with a tired ‘morning’ and hold you close.

(“What are you wa- is that the new episode of Love is Blind?”

“Um… I only just started it two minutes ago?”

“[First], what the hell!? While I was asleep?!”)

From then on when Satoru saw those far away looks, he’d kiss you since it was on the table now. Satoru put everything into those kisses and you’d kiss him back just as hard.

Don’t go anywhere. He’d thread one hand into your hair and the other would pull your waist closer to his. Satoru didn’t want or need anything else. Stay.

You kissed him like you would.

It’s crazy how easily you could just slip away from everything like a ghost that hadn’t been there at all. It was shockingly apparent that impromptu trip you took to the beach in the middle of the semester.

Everyone had been together in awe of the bioluminescent dots in the sea and it donned on him you hadn’t said anything in a while. You were gone.

He’d painted his panic in his usual bravadoー nonchalant and grinning, claiming he was gonna go bother you for a bit.

It was a relief when he found you.

It was dreadful when he found you.

Satoru couldn’t see your face clearly but he could tell your look was intent on the sea and how it shined with the glow of a billion bright lights. If there was a ghost ship calling you out to the depths, Satoru knew you’d leave in a heartbeat.

You slowly became more noticeably distant from your group of mutual friends after that trip. It didn’t start immediately, you’d acted the same as usual at first. You still sang songs in the car, Utahime had grown out of her novela phase in favor of all of you losing your shit at the editing of Indian serial dramas and in between those moments Satoru found himself in your bed again.

It was around that time you started kissing his forehead; when the kisses started, that’s when you started drifting away from his orbit. You said it was homework, your profs telepathically communicating to increase your workload.

You alright?

What kind of sadists are your professors if you’re this busy?

Just let me know if you need me to come over some kind of distraction. Sorry for coming over earlier unannounced, I shouldn’t have assumed. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.

“Do you think she thinks I’m being clingy?” Satoru mumbled as he stared at your text that you were fine just dying from homework. You definitely thought he’s being clingy. He’d always been a bit clingy with his friends. He was probably more overbearing than usual though.

“Yes,” Kenjaku replied without missing a beat. “You’re gonna get dumped if you keep this up.”

God what does Suguru see in this guy? He’s like a fucking parasite. “I wasn’t asking you,” Satoru glared. “And she isn’t my girlfriend.”

Suguru snorted, running his hands through his boyfriend’s hair, “play nice both of you,” he said lightly and Satoru rolled his eyes. “But if [First] is saying she’s fine, then just trust that she’s fine. She’ll come back around when her workload decreases.”

Satoru glared with a pout, “you’re worried too, don’t act like it’s just me.”

“I never said it was, it’s just that between the two of us I’m handling it better. I sent her a surprise uber eats delivery yesterday.” Asshole, that was a brilliant idea. Satoru wished he thought of it first. Instead he asked Shoko to check on you; maybe you’d be more receptive if it wasn’t him bothering you for the tenth text in a row.

Shoko went to check on you. Apparently you were fine and Satoru was worrying for nothing. She even said that you would come and hang out with them soon. Some people might say it’s a bit petty to celebrate the failures of others. In another universe, Satoru might even agree with them. But in this universe, Satoru was a hater first and foremost. So if he and his friends wanted to go out to eat to celebrate the fact Zenin Naoya was bitching about a failing grade on an essay, he and his friends were going to go out and eat to celebrate Zenin Naoya failing his essay.

Apparently, you were all haters.

It was also just nice seeing you again. If Satoru was more poetic, he’d probably add a bunch of other things to that statement. It was just nice to have you back.

“Karma is probably gonna come back to clap us in the ass for celebrating someone getting a bad grade,” you snickered.

“Sounds like a problem for future us,” Suguru grinned with a twinkle in his eyes.

“We go to school with the Japanese version of Ben Shapiro,” Satoru choked on his strawberry smoothie when Shoko said that. “I think we’re covered on karma.”

“Y’all are terrible people,” Satoru clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disbelief and shame.

“Hey, good neighbor, this dinner was your idea,” you nudged him with a dry tone and a smile.

Satoru nudged back with a grin of his own.

Dinner was fun, lots of drinks and jokes. It was a non-alcoholic beverage sort of night. Shoko said it was because they’d clearly been drinking too much if Satoru of all people had gotten better with holding his liquor. Her point was fair but rude nonetheless yet when Satoru turned to whine for you to come to his defense, the distant glaze was over your eyes and your smile was smaller than it had been the last time he looked at it.

“[First],” your motion to close your apartment door stopped and you hummed with a raised eyebrow. Satoru felt more dread than usual that night. Something about the air had been different. The face you made felt different than it normally did. It was always distant, you were always far away, but tonight was the worst it had ever been. “We’re good, right?”

You look at him like he grew an extra four eyes. “Why wouldn’t we be?”

Satoru couldn’t meet your eyes as he shrugged wordlessly. You’d probably say he was being ridiculous and clingy if he mentioned anything but he couldn’t find anything else to say to make himself seem unbothered either.

You rolled your eyes with a grin before stretching your arms out wide. “You’re being overdramatic, you big baby. Come here, big guy,” Satoru pulled you in close, burying his nose in the corner of his neck. Despite welcoming your embrace, it did nothing to soothe Satoru’s anxieties.

“I’ll see you later, yeah?” Satoru asked without pulling away from you completely.

The way you smiled at him was warm but it still somehow felt unreadable. Satoru knew all of your smiles. Your happy ones,

the sad ones,

the one you made when Sora finally got into Smash.

The ones you made when you were mad that he was successfully charming his way out of you being mad at him.

Satoru didn’t know this one.

Despite that fact, Satoru let you cup his face in your hands and he let you stand on the tip of your toes to place a kiss on his forehead. “See you, Satoru.“

ii. undertow

Sleep didn’t come to Satoru after he laid in bed.

His head was too full as he kept running back through what you told him after he took you home.

You didn’t say you’d see him later.

You’re just being overdramatic, Satoru forced his eyes to close. You’re always overdramatic. It’s my best trait 30% of the time.

No one else said anything that night, it was just him who felt like this, right? It was always just him. If everyone else felt like something was off all night, someone would have mentioned it by now. With that, Satoru forced his eyes closed for all of five minutes before he decided to send, at the very least, a dumb meme. Something that’d make you laugh when you saw it and would make you reply “I’m wheezing” or “that’s so us!”

A quick stroll through his photos was all it took to find something suitable. He can’t remember exactly what it was, only that it was stupid.

It was stupid and didn’t go through to your phone.

A disconnect and reconnect dance to his wifi later and it still didn’t go through.

Satoru’s feet was on the pavement before not even a heartbeat after he calmly made sure his apartment was locked.

He just had to be sure you were okay. It was just him being an overdramatic, big baby. Your phone died or something and that’s why nothing was going through. Or maybe this was like the time you put your phone in airplane mode to narrowly avoid sending Shoko the wrong meme and then forgot to switch it back off.

You don’t answer the door when he knocks and he goes back and forth between knocking and trying to reach you on your other socials.

Twitter? Blocked.

He can’t find you anywhere else.

Instagram.

LINE.

Discord.

It’s like you were never there, gone from all the group chats and servers you once shared.

Satoru stayed outside of your apartment for the better part of an hour before one of your neighbors opened her door tired and annoyed.

“Dude, do you know what time it is?” Your neighbor asked groggily. She’s a nice girl, the reason rent was low enough in the area you could afford an apartment on your own. Apparently she wrecked shit in the neighborhood on the low to keep the rent down. Even better was the fact she was the landlord’s daughter. Not all heroes wore capes.

“Sorry,” Satoru knew he must look like a maniac with his messy hair and wide eyes. “have you seen [First]? I’m having a hard time reaching her.”

The neighbor gave him a funny look, “she moved out tonight,” she told him like that was the fifth time she told him that her favorite color was orange. “I thought it was weird you didn’t help with moving her stuff out a few days ago. She gave me the key to give it to my dad tomorrow. Didn’t she tell you she was leaving?”

iii. la niña

Satoru didn’t know which was worse sometimesー the fact Shoko kept the fact he had a daughter a secret for five years or how he found out.

It wasn’t like Shoko approached him one gloomy night when memories of the most prominent ghost in his life began bubbling to the surface. She didn’t grimly say that she needed to tell him something and he should sit down for it. She didn’t start off with apologies, saying she felt she had no choice or that if things had gone different she would have told him.

None of that happened.

Satoru found out by accident.

Accident.

All because Shoko didn’t hear him approach her when she was on her phone scrolling through instagram. She was so focused on whatever she was looking at, she didn’t even notice how Satoru quietly snickered to himself and snuck behind her to give her spook. He was just about to say something, ready for swears and ‘you’re so annoying, what are you 12?!’s when he took an instinctual glance at her phone and he saw you.

Thoughts of scaring Shoko went out the window in a matter of milliseconds. He didn’t even feel his body move when he snatched her phone out of her hand.

“Heyー” Shoko started with an offended hiss but when she looked over her shoulder, she looked like she saw an impending storm and her jaw clamped shut.

Satoru took in the photo like it was the last thing he’d ever see. You were dressed in a blue t-shirt and cream colored shorts, some aquarium’s logo stitched into your clothes. You were holding a kid, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek while the girl was caught mid-giggle. And when Satoru looked at the little girl in your arms, it was his eyes that looked back.

“I- she told me not to say anything,” Shoko murmured, brown eyes looking anywhere but at him. Then the secrets came rolling out one after the other.

“If I didn’t see this picture,” Satoru’s grip tightened on Shoko’s phone to ground himself to the present. “Were you still going to keep this a secret from me?”

Her answer was silence.

iv. el niño

“I have to be honest,” from the corner of your eye, you see Satoru chasing after Itsuki, Nanako and Mimiko. Suguru is watching next to you on the bench, your respective care bags for accidents and playground injuries at the ready between you. “I thought I’d be more surprised you’re a dad now. But it kinda just makes sense. You always had ‘single mom’ energy in school.”

Brown eyes flash with recognition, “you had a dream about me adopting kids once, right?”

“No, I had a dream where you were off a perk and calling people without powers ‘monkeys’,” you correct your old friend petulantly. As if he should have remembered after all these years without contact. “You just happened to adopt children in the process of all that.”

Suguru snorts, “my apologies for getting the details wrong. So you had a dream that I adopted kids once and that I was off a perk.”

“Exactly, thank you.”

A silence somewhere between comfortable and awkward settles over the two of you, save for the squeals of little girls and Satoru’s manic laughter as the evil sorcerer king.

Suguru looks nice.

He’s still rocking the man bun but he’s opted to let some of his hair hang loose and he’s a couple hundred pounds down a shitty, parasitic boyfriend. Suguru and Kenjaku broke up halfway through the semester after you transferred. “Before you ask, yes, we had dinner to celebrate,” Suguru told you when you saw him for the first time in years a few days ago.

You’ve had your fair share of private updates on the lives of your old friends you didn’t keep in contact with. Shoko kept you up to date on everything. A surprising number of your old friends had gone into the field of educationー Utahime, Suguru and Satoru. You wonder how Satoru’s parents reacted to that information. You have yet to ask; it seemed like too much of a mood killer when Satoru happily recounted stories about his students a few weeks ago.

When Itsuki almost trips you make to stand but Satoru catches her before you can blink.

“He’s pretty good with her,” Suguru says like he’s a mind reader. “There was this kid we used to babysit, Riko, when we were younger. He said he hated it but he’s always been pretty good with kids.”

You can believe it. There’s plenty of things you remember Satoru complaining about despite his inherent talents in them. It makes you want to cry sometimes seeing how good he is with Itsuki. Your daughter is smart enough to play neutral when he asks but you’re pretty sure your daughter has a favorite parent. Adorable little traitor, you laugh softly to yourself. You’d think five years would give someone an edge.

Five years.

“Are you… mad?” You look at your old friend from the corner of your eye.

Suguru takes his time answering, mulling over unknown thoughts in his head. Playful as you remember Suguru being, he’s always been introspective. He thinks before he acts, lets things slowly come to a boil before turning off the stovetop. “I was more worried than mad to start,” he finally speaks. “It’s not everyday an entire group of people gets ghosted. I’m a little mad you didn’t open up though.”

Your smile is small and your eyebrows knit apologetically.

“But at the end of the day, this is nothing compared to what went down between Satoru and me in high school. So I guess I can forgive you.” You never did get the story about Satoru and Suguru’s mysterious high school turning point. The itch to know all the details is minor compared to the way your shoulders relax when Suguru shoots you a familiar smile. I missed you too. “Just don’t do anymore disappearing acts.” Smooth as they come, Suguru raises a closed fist just above your care bags.

Smile a bit more grand, you bump the side of your fist to his. “I can happily vouch that it won’t be happening again.”

“Good. It’s nice to have you back.”

“It’s nice being back.”

v. sea state

“Did you get an undercut?”

“Yeah, a while ago,” Satoru grins. “I look nice, right?”

“Please accept the compliment normally so your arrogance doesn’t rub off on our daughter,” you shake your head but a good-natured grin is plastered on your face. “Itsuki, make sure Daddy behaves. You’re in charge as the honorary aquarist.”

Itsuki’s eyes fill with delight at the duty bestowed upon her. “I will,” she promises, chest puffed with as much pride as a five year old can produce. It’s a rare day off in the middle of the week for Satoru. Normally he’s confined to his school during these hours, but thanks to some school holiday you scheduled in advance for him to take Itsuki around your aquarium. It isn’t the first time Itsuki’s been, you’d taken her there before she could even walk. It might as well be her first visit though from how she’s beaming. “Daddy, you have to be good so Mommy doesn’t get mad.”

“As you command, general,” Satoru salutes playfully, picking Itsuki up in his arms. “Now then, if you excuse us, this father-daughter duo is gonna enjoy the aquarium while you work.”

“Bup bup bup,” you tut before the man can take off. “At least let me get my goodbye kiss before you run off to have fun without me,” you peck Itsuki’s cheek once, twice before blowing a raspberry and she squeals. “Alright,” you place your hands on your hips. “You two go have fun. Tell Daddy all the names you gave the whale sharks, okay?”

You think that’s that until Itsuki innocently asks, “where’s Daddy’s kiss, Mommy?” You blink once. Maybe you misheard- “You’re supposed to give both of us goodbye kisses, aren’t you?” Apparently you haven’t.

“I think Daddy’s too old for goodbye kisses, Itsuki.”

Itsuki squints, unsatisfied with your answer, “but Grandma always kisses Granny and they’re ancient.”

Why do your parents have to have a long lasting and fulfilling love life?

You and Satoru share an awkward smile as you both wonder what either of you can do to get out of this situation. Kissing Satoru used to be as easy as breathing. He’s always been the more affectionate of the two of you and it rubbed off on you some time during your university days. But you’re not in university anymore and your relationship has most definitely changed since then.

Still with bated breath, you gesture for Satoru to bring his head low enough for you to kiss his forehead, “there. Now both of you go have fun.”

If you think you see Satoru’s expression dim, he’s all smiles the moment you blink. “Try not to be jealous when you see us feeding the stingrays, [First].” He’s gone before you can tease you’re the one of the employees that help with that.

Once a maelstrom, always a maelstrom.

You love your place of work, it always has a familiar noisy sort of peaceful bathed in the light of blue decorated in corals, pinks and purples. Aquariums have a special magic to them. You fell in love with the sea when you were young and never fell out. The magic somehow is renewed every time you clock in, even on the most trying days.

How can you not when you see the dozens of people that stop by with the same love?

How can you not when you see dozens of people that stop by and fall in love with it for the first time?

“Hi, Mommy!” You hear Itsuki call from a distance. You wonder how she can even see you when you look up and see she’s on Satoru’s shoulders. It’s so natural, the two of them together. She’s wearing his sunglasses, if you can really say that. They keep sliding off her face but she holds onto them resolutely and Satoru is smiling widely in front of the tank full of black tip reef sharks, whale sharks and dozens of other fish in between.

You don’t know how your heart can fill with even more affection than you thought possible but it does. “Hi, baby,” you wave back. “I love you!”

“I love you too!” I have to enjoy that before she gets old enough to start thinking she’s too cool to tell her mom I love you. You know Satoru should too when you see her lean over to plant her father an awkward kiss on his head. You can’t hear what she tells him but you can guess she must be saying she loves him. Even from his profile, you can tell Satoru is saying he loves her back from how adoringly he looks up at her.

You see Itsuki giggling and saying something else you can’t hear, looking down at her father in earnest.

Whatever it is she says, Satoru looks over at you with eyes that are wide and somehow reflect all of the blue from tank lights. Despite how it makes your heart twist, you give him another small wave. When he doesn’t wave back, you wonder what it is your daughter could have said that had him in such a stupor.

Whatever he says to Itsuki, his eyes stay on you while he says it.

vi. nearshore

“Do you still like the same brand of honey or no?” You call over your shoulder from the kitchen.

It’s unusually quiet in your apartment since Itsuki is at your parents’ house for the weekend. You only realized you’d forgotten to tell your co-parent when he showed up at your house with sweets in hand. “What Itsuki doesn’t know won’t hurt her,” you told him with a snicker when you invited him inside to eat them.

“Satoru?” You call out again.

No response.

You turn off the eye your kettle is on and look out into the living room. He’s right where you left him. “Hey,” you sit on the ottoman in front of him. He blinks in surprise when he sees your hand waving in front of face. “Are you alright?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Satoru smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Let me rephrase that question,” you start anew. “What’s wrong? Come on now,” you grin crookedly. “You’ve always sucked at pretending to be okay in front of me.”

Satoru’s smile falters for a heartbeat, “yeah?”

“Yes, Mr. Bravado,” Satoru might have been an expert at fooling others, but you know him. He was the guy who never took notes but passed every test because he worked his ass off in the background. The type who’d act oblivious but you realize halfway through a meal that the reason he took you is because he noticed you’d been feeling down lately. It’s one of the things you love about him. “So come out with it, fess up.”

One, two, three seconds pass before Satoru finally cracks.

“I’m mad. More at myself than anything.” Before you can reply, Satoru opens his mouth again but it feels more like he’s talking to himself. “I shouldn’t be upset anymore, right? We made up.” Satoru runs his fingers through his hair in frustration. “We made up,” he says again. “I shouldn’t still be mad about anything. Things have been going great.”

Satoru finally falls silent and he looks tired. You hate you’re the reason for it. “It’s okay to still be mad about Itsuki. I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I… I’d take it back if I could. I know that doesn’t mean anything after five years but I mean it. Even if I was scared I should have told you. I just- I don’t know, it had gotten into me. I was thinking how you couldn’t commitー”

“You thought I was non-committal?” Satoru raises an eyebrow and he looks hurt by your revelation.

“Satoru, you have never been in a relationship with anyone throughout the time I’ve known you,” you rub your finger and thumb together nervously. Five years later is as good as any time to have a conversation you should have had long ago. “You were scared when I asked what our relationship was, remember?”

“I didn’t know what the right answer was,” Satoru argues with his hands raised. “I thought you were tired of our friends always talking about us being a couple.”

“You were relieved when I said that-” you stammer over your words thoughts going much faster than your mouth could. You remember the tormented days of unrequited affection quite clearly. If there was someone who avoided romantic relationships like the plague, it was Satoru. He was a flirt, relished in the attention he received for his well-known good looks. Regardless, he’d never committed to anyone. “You said fucking someone else was a non-issue! For all I knew you were sleeping with someone else, it wasn’t like we were-”

“It was a non-issue if it meant you weren’t going to take off and start avoiding me!” Satoru snaps like you’ve grown a second head. Maybe you did judging by how he looks at you incredulously. Your mouth closes, unsure what to say next and Satoru looks away with a scoff. “It’s the other way around,” he mutters so soft you almost didn’t catch it. “you were the non-committal one.”

“Excuse me?” It’s your turn to look at Satoru like his body has magically sprung additional body parts. When he doesn’t immediately say anything, you double down. “Satoru, you don’t get to say that and then turn around and not elaborate on it.”

“You know, the first day we met, Suguru told me that I acted like the sun shined out of your ass,” Satoru says much to your confusion. But he went on, lost in his memories, “it might as well have, I thought you were so cool. I wanted you in my life so bad from pretty much the moment you said I doomed myself. I didn’t care what happened next in my life as long as you were there for it.

“But you left me,” Satoru croaks with a smile, crystal blue eyes dark and empty. “You left me.” The way he says it breaks your heart. “I’m so gone for you. I’ve always been gone for you. I just didn’t want to see it. Somehow I always knew you’d leave.” He laughs, cold and humorless and completely lost. “And you did.

“You could be right there with me and then suddenly be so far away. It always felt like you would just up and leave one day. You and Utahime always talked about intuition and trusting it. I guess mine was saying from early on ‘this girl is gonna break your heart one day, don’t fall in love with her.’”

“I knew it when you got those far away looks in your eyes. I knew it when I woke up that first morning alone. I knew it when you didn’t say you’d see me later. And just like that you were gone on that ghost ship. You left and didn’t even tell me you were going. Do you know how much that fucking hurt? I wait outside for hours and your neighbor’s the one who tells me you’re gone. I may have purposely lied to myself about how I felt but I never slept with anyone else. I didn’t want anyone else. I was the one who kept reaching out, you never reached back.

Itsuki’s the second tier on the cake and the rest of the frosting. You’ve been gone on that ghost ship for five years and when I finally catch up, I still feel like I’m drowning.”

“… I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I didn’t know.”

“I know. That’s almost the worst part. Guess I didn’t wear my heart on my sleeve as much as you thought.”

“It was the week after our second year midterms,” you recall when you were six years younger and the biggest problem you had in life was a professor was out to get you. Midterms had finally passed and you were on a victorious emotional high after finishing your last exam. At least until some asshole who should have covered their mouth coughed and you were coughing by the end of the day. “I got a cold and just so I could breathe better when I slept, you let me lay on you on the couch the whole time even though you ended up getting sick afterwards.”

You’d felt so bad, coughing all the while but Satoru hadn’t let you budge an inch, proudly claiming ‘I don’t get sick, I’m built different so cough away.’ When he got sick days later, he said over coughs, ‘This has nothing to do with when you were sick. This is from Suguru.’ “That was when I realized that I’d been stupidly in love with you ever since I met you.”

Gojou Satoru has been called many things throughout your years of knowing him. But for you, the fall child has always been easy to love. He was made for it. “You were a pain in the ass but you were my pain in the ass. I never wanted it any other way.”

“Stop being mean to me,” Satoru leans forward to rest his head on your shoulder just as you wrap your arms around his back. “Don’t you know who you’re being mean to when you’re being an ass?”

You laugh weakly, “the guy I’m still gone for?” When you hear a sniffle in the corner of your neck, you tighten your grip.

“Don’t go away this time,” Satoru hugs back.

vii. ocean deep, seafoam soft

Satoru finds himself in your bed again for the first time in years.

“I confess my love to you and you try to kill me, I’m hurt.”

“Oh don’t be such a baby, I didn’t even know it was there,” you chuckle fondly after the two of you stumble into your bed after nearly tripping on a stray toy on your floor. Satoru loves that laugh. He loves how you look up at him with all the adoration in the world. “Remember that time we forgot that textbook was on your bed?”

“Please don’t remind me, my back hurts just remembering it,” Satoru whines but laughter escapes him despite his apparent trauma. It wasn’t one of your best moments during your shared years of sexual escapades in college. You pull him down kiss his lips tenderly and he practically moans, relishing the feeling. No more forehead kisses, he wants to tell you. You did that a lot before you left.

“I love you,” Satoru whispers in awe at the words falling out of his own mouth. In awe at the fact you’re even there with him at that moment. “I love you.”

Your hands cup his face like he’s something precious and you thumbs away the tears pooling in his eyes despite the ones in your own, “I love you too.”

Satoru’s had sex with you more times than he can count.

He memorized everything, refused to forget a single detail. It feels like the first time all over again.

The way one set of your fingernails dig into his back while he envelopes your other hand with one of his own. How your fingers intertwined tightly. How amazing you feel squeezing around him tightly. The speed of your pulse as he peppers your throat with kisses and soft nips. The ache between his legs as he rolls his hips into you gently yet persistently, chasing his high but wanting it to last long beyond the confines of this singular moment.

It’s not just this one moment anymore though. “[First],” Satoru squeezes your hand tighter. “[First].”

I love you.

Don’t leave me this time, Satoru gasps like a man starved for air before kissing you again desperately. Stay.

(When Satoru wakes up the next morning to you in his arms and playing with his hair at the base of his neck, he feels like could cry. He nestles into your chest with a tired grin, “morning.”)

viii. anchor

Gojou Itsuki, that’s the name staring back at him.

Satoru loves when it’s his birthday. Until Itsuki was born it was arguably the best day in the universe. The importance of birthdays tends to titter on the rope of priorities, but it’s the one day of the year when the people important to him would pop up to say ‘hi’. Even people from the past. An old teacher he used to drive crazy but always said he thought Satoru had a lot of potential.

His mom still sent him a birthday text even if most of their exchanges are dry the rest of the year.

Even his students will tip in to get him a card and some sort of celebratory gift on December 7th.

December 7th lost a bit of its shine when you exited from his life. With you and Itsuki both in it, it shines tenfold.

It’s just the light is too blinding when Satoru takes out his last present of a plain envelope and he sees Gojou Itsuki written in bold and clear text.

Gojou Itsuki

Father: Gojou Satoru

v. sea state private ver.

"Daddy, do you love Mommy too?”

“Yeah. Daddy loves Mommy.”

#romance dawn ー 🌅#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojou x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x black!reader #jjk x black!reader

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wotay27166 · 2 months ago

Text

The (crappy) art of Freakycare

Much like I did in my initial 'final farewell' post (which turned out to not be final post at all because so much shit happened afterwards), I want to focus this post on an aspect that other people have not talked about - the art itself on the new freakycare blog. A lot of other people have talked about how KC refuses to take any accountability and trying to shed culpability, her refusal to acknowledge or apologize to any victims (Emsody being the only one who received so much as a 'sorry' from KC, has since been redacted with the removal of the post from the main blog), or the fact that she has very openly gone all in to publicly post her secret canon material (and pathetically begging proshippers to interact with every post, hungry for attention).

Before we continue I would like to link the donation/commission links of some of the affected victims of KC and her associates: Commission Jeremy Donate to Chaosblast Donate to Toynbeck Donate to Aobasgirlfriend

As well as the response of people KC directly groomed/victimized in light of the new blog (more may be added in the future):

Chaosblast's response (archive) Imani's response (archive) Maddie's response (archive) Fink's response (archive)

And, to any KC bootlicker supporters being like 'errm you wouldn't have found the freakycare blog unless you were looking for it, checkmate antis' I'll copy/paste what I replied to one who was harassing an anticare poster:

Related accounts get recommended to people due to tumblr's algorithm, don't be stupid now. If people follow interact with sparklecare and related tags/blogs, freakycare will come up too because a lot of you goons who post with freakycare tags also have posts on your blogs tagged with sparklecare AND cometcare (some even posting freakycare with those two aforementioned tags in the same post). If the same person is posting with the same art style and the same characters no shit the algorithm will show people. If people had to go out of there way to find it, it is unlikely it would've been found instantly by people. Also peep you, this supposedly anti harassment pro shipper going out of their way to harass and bother this person who's explicitly tagged their post as anticare. Hm! Curious! Maybe you should heed your own mantra and block/move on and curate your own experience by muting tags! But you guys are all hypocrites so who's shocked.

Without further ado, let's talk about how the quality of KC's art has taken a significant dip, especially comparing it to the initial Cometcare, which Freakycare directly parallels. I will not be going for the content itself, I'm sure I would be a broken record saying 'sexual harassment and covert incest is not cute or funny at all, and 'the way it's framed as a normal light hearted thing is abhorrent' over and over. Considering the first 'arc' is also called 'coming out' I think directly comparing being incestual to coming out as queer is quite frankly incredibly insulting.

Rushed art

We'll start with the most basic observation - the art is very rushed. There a distinct lack of care when comes to various aspects of the art that is most evidently seen in the inconsistency in how the frills on Ally's dress lines up between panels, nor how the bow does not connect properly. They are inconsistent and change wildly between panels that are right next to each other. It looks terrible.

Missing features

In various panels very basic assets of the character's design are just not there, such as Ally missing a star on her cheek so she has 3 instead of 4, the sleeves missing their frill lines, and Sly constantly missing the glasses' temples. Below you will also see Ally's whiskers disappearing periodically.

Copy/Paste job

It is actually not uncommon for artists to use the same panel with minor altercations between panels. HOWEVER, this is something that was not in the original Cometcare, as KC used to redraw the same pose entirely between asks. In Freakycare, however, this copy/pasting of panels is used extensively. Much less effort and in some cases, the erasing of the previous panel hasn't been done properly so there's distinct leftovers between them in the lineart.

Imprecise lineart

The lineart often doesn't connect properly or overshoots where it should stop. This also leads to things like weird dents in Ally's facial stars patterns.

Bad anatomy

Anatomy is of course subjective depending on style, but at the very least one would hope for consistency, or things making sense connecting to the body wise.

Cometcare VS Freakycare

Cometcare first, and then Freakycare second. I don't think it's controversial to say I think the art in Freakycare is worse in every single way. The shapes are much wobblier looking, the anatomy is worse, the character figures look stiffer, the speech bubble placement is less cohesive, etc.

In conclusion, this is quite literally slop. It is sloppy, rushed, and little care has been put into the art. I feel even if you are a proshipper incest lover, your standards should 100% be higher - this is the garbage you settle for? I guess quality doesn't matter when to someone who enjoys this content, the mere notion of incest being present is like having keys jangled in front of one's face to entertain them. It is no exaggeration to say not a single panel has any care put into it. KC is capable of better art, she just doesn't have a reason to try anymore. KC thoroughly rinsed money out of her former fanbase through patreon, and the merch drops - anyone left doesn't care.

KC gave up working on Sparklecare, and turned her back on the people who loyally enjoyed what came before for this. It is sad that the instant gratification from people who clap like seals for anything 'problematic' has caused KC's art and writing to degrade significantly. KC does not care what people think or believe, and that 100% extends to the victims of her and her associates. KC feels no remorse for doing things such as retraumatizing a fellow victim of incest in Imani, or triggering her partner so bad new alters of a traumagenic system were created to cope in Chaos, or willfully ignoring those who have reached out about her groomer pals. To KC, her fictional animals matter more than the real people she has hurt.

In addition I would argue this outright unsafe for KC to be doing, considering her family home living situation. Being back publicly to do so has further put a spotlight on her, and her actions.

Look who's in the likes, Woofles who groomed a 15 year old and is a self admitted pedophile/zoophile. Jk-tech too, who you may remember actively defended Oddballs, the real CSEM trafficking site. This is the type of person KC wants to cater to now.

And the greatest irony of all of course, is how page 161 from Sparklecare V2 directly calls out behaviour like KC's.

If you want something like Sparklecare or Cometcare to fill the void and not support KC, there's always the various projects by former fans.

In the future a few month down the line when more former fan projects are out I may make a second/continuation post promoting them.

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thuesdaynightdykelife · 11 months ago

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Topping w long nails wouldn’t that hurt her we should always clip before top unless u want her to have dirt in her pussy

Dirt in her pussy? Clipping your nails does not replace the power of soap and a nail brush! We should always prep our nails before topping, but that doesn't necessarily mean clipping them.

If there is one lesson I'll take from my ex, it's that filed nails are so much more important than clipped nails. You can clip your nails as short as humanly possible, but if you don't file those sharp corners down, you are going to injure someone (I can tell you this from experience, I'm so sorry lmao).

Long nails do not hurt if you take the appropriate precautions and adjustments. Cleaning underneath the nails, nail shapes that dont have sharp edges, softer nail extention materials (any of y'all who know more about nails than I do, feel free to add your reccomendations) doing less of a beckoning motion and more of a simple up and down, or latex gloves and cotton balls, finger sleeves. Where there is a will, there is a way y'all, and everyones body and preferences are different. Plus, there are plenty of ways to top beyond fingering. You can have the sharpest strongest stilleto nails and exclusively top. You just may default to toys over fingers.

The interaction I heard that inspired the original post was someone making a comment towards a top, implying that they couldn't be due to their acrylic nails. Completely inappropriate to be making those sorts of comments about the details of other people's sex lives and appearance, but also not true either! There are so many ways to have sex, expand your minds, you'll thank yourselves for it!

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fujii-draws · 5 months ago

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Been meaning to ask, what /did/ inspire your reading of dadnoir?

I like it a lot, i even use it, but i got it from you and i want to know more about what inspired you to write it?

Hihi!! I am more than happy to explain it :3

Admittedly at first I really wasn’t thinking too much about Ribbons/Aimilios’s relationship with him. I was also originally of the opinion “Oh those three would just hate eachother like some sitcom but tolerate the other’s existence for Grovyle/Celebi’s sakes” But that was before I made this art piece.

(Ironically the first one I did of those three before the madness deadass consumed me)

I was originally drawing with my feelings towards Dusknoir in mind (Which was absolutely trusting and loving the guy before he did the whole betrayal thing. And hating his ass) but something about it legitimately made something click. There was such an interesting, complicated, and tragic relationship to be had with those three. That had so much god damn potential for interactions/dynamics/angst that I saw equal to the whole Grovyle/Dusknoir’s uneasy truce in EP5.

“What if Aimilios(partner) wasn’t the only Pokémon who looked up to Dusknoir, but Ribbons did, too. And even more unfortunately, Dusknoir going from playing the role of their “friend”, only then get attached to them, too. Causing a whole mess of internal conflict while those two are snuggling up to him.”

Now, before I get into this next segment, I’d like to preface that I’m aware that it was never the writers intention to imply or insinuate a relationship between those three. This is just a veryyy fun what-if scenario that is unintentionally backed with some context if you squint at certain segments. I frolick in the field of headcannons and different interpretations because it’s fun, and I don’t like trying to justify the dadnoir Au’s existence over and over again with ‘ahhh sorry guys I know this is ooc :(((((‘ and am very much past that phase. I have nothing to apologize for, and neither should you if you enjoy the hc! and will now unapologetically enter my joker arc 👍

(I am also okay with people not liking /enjoying it! We can still be chill :3 so long as you don’t actively try to put the hc down out of sheer disdain. Other than that!! Cheers to the folks who don’t understand or even like Dadnoir, who are still willing to hear me out! (And even the ones who don’t and respectfully click off this post!)

Long Dadnoir Tangent undercut

—

Worrying over Hero/Partner genuinely even though there’s virtually nothing to gain from saving two random Pokémon who you’re gonna leave in a world of ruin regardless.

Defending those two while showcasing both sides of Dusknoir (where he’s willing to be merciful to the Manectric, but fight on behalf of Hero/Partner after what Team Skull pulled.)(if he was just an overly cynical, unbearable asshole why is he even bothering with this)

While this is absolutely leaning more towards him making sure they’re alright so he can prepare to officially and personally execute them, I think it’d be more sweet if this was more of a slip of the tongue on his part. “Hoho! Farewell little, vulnerable Pokémon I’ve gained a small attachment to. Wait what.” (WHILE I DONT HAVE THE SS, if you talk to him again, he tells them to be careful. Again.)

I remember a post from @defendglobe that was equivalent to “did he seem more uncomfortable with praises now that he knew he was basically deceiving everyone” and I love that take so much that I’m putting it here.

Ohhh Crystal Lake. How I love you.

Another instance. Where Dusknoir absolutely could have let everything play out. Get rid of 1/3 of his targets while incriminating Grovyle even further as a villain. He knew who partner and hero were at that point. He knew his mission. And yet he acted. It’s so hilarious how similar this and Dusknoir pushing Grovyle out of the way of the stalactite in EP5. My ghost in Christ you could have gotten rid of them so much sooner.

I fucking loooove this little scene so much. How Mespirit and Uxie go over to Azelf in pure worry. How close they get near them. How Dusknoir Hero Partner have the same interaction, yet the renowned explorer keeping physical(emotional) distance away from them. How it’s exactly three Pokémon checking up on eachother in back-to-back scenes.

I Don’t think I Need a Screenshot for the elusive “Well… this is… good-bye… Or is it? Scene; BUT. Something I never considered was him stalling bc I thought he was being a theatrical asshole and pausing for dramatic effect during his betrayal. But i remember a post of someone saying the “…”‘s in his dailouge almost felt like he was hesitating and. Shit. that makes me so insane.

And now, onto the angsty future bits.

Again, Dusknoir absolutely did the shit he did to those two. And I don’t want to take away from it by softening the blow or woobifying him. If anything, the previous explanations/Dusknoir enjoying his time with them(and Vice versa) adds onto the tragedy and angst so much more and I love it. From this point on he is as cold and calculating as he is in game. I only hc the moments of hesitation during the Stoneship fight.

There is something so genuinely heartbreaking about partner’s denial throughout the entirety of the Paralyzed future segments. The refusal to admit that Dusknoir was a horrible Pokémon, and clinging onto hope that he was still good.

AND THE GOD DAMN TEARY EYED SPRITE. YOU CANNOT MAKE THIS UP. HE LOOKED UP TO DUSKNOIR SO MUCH AND FELT SO BETRAYED.

And the implications Hero gave up too from Partner’s words alone. The fact Hero has no dialogue after Dusknoir revealed just how cruelly and easy it was to manipulate them.

And just. Partner’s teary-to-determined sprite pipeline after *finally* getting their shit together and realizing the truth. That they need to stop defending him and be there for Hero. I am going to die. Badly.

And even after all that Dusknoir put them through. Partner doesn’t just go “yeah lmao pretty much” and reels back on calling him heinous and wicked even though that was absolutely justified. (Oh and don’t get me STARTED on the Drowzee/Dusknoir parallels)

Like. God there’s so many crumbs that made me realize on rewatches that the concept had actual merit and potential. And I love it so so dearly. There’s so much potential oozing and fun to be had with Dusknoir being close to those two (or any other Pokémon you see fit.) regardless of Celebi and Grovyle that can work. I still think futuretrio is an amazing dynamic and trio of Pokémon.

And i am also of the opinion of him only rarely showing devotion and care for Pokémon he loves. But still is fairly respectful to randoms he doesn’t know as well. And I think it not being solely restricted to Grovyle/Celebi can can make for some really sweet dynamics. Again, I love Grovyle/Celebi/Dusknoir so much. And Ribbons/Aimilios/Dusknoir’s relationship makes me equally as insane if not more.

It’s why I adore it when I see Dusknoir x oc or Dusknoir x sona’s in the fandom that are unapologetically lovey. I hold hands and continue to love whatever new future trio art my mutuals/friends have in store. I appreciate majority of this fandom for it’s open mindedness and kindness.

And on one last note, the reason why the concept of Dadnoir appeals to me so much, is explained so masterfully by one of my good friend’s @gaydiation-poisoning that I will now share with you all

^^^ they’ve been on the dadnoir train for the longest out of anyone I’ve ever met (EVEN ME.) and they put it. So well. (Without even mentioning the pure drama and bittersweet tension upon his return to Treasure town.)(Like fuck man. The idea of Hero/Partner slowly learning to retrust him after… everything. Emotionally and Physically. The time it’d take. The conflict and continued back-and-forth dynamics between them. and the one ghost who desperately wanted to live in retribution for their lives; trying genuinely, no stings attached this time, to try and reconnect with those two.) [not even mentioning the fun switch up of famous explorer + two recruits trying to impress and get close to him, vs famous explorer(s) + fallen from grace explorer trying to get close and rekindle a tainted relationship.] take these three away from me they make me sickkk

And I really hope I, alongside the many others who’ve adapted this hc, can inspire u to keep loving whatever you want anon. Regardless of how in-character or out it may seem. Don’t be afraid to make what you love.

#asks #pmd eos #Dusknoir #dadnoir #I WANTED TO DO ONE EVER SINCE I JOINED THE FANDOM but never had the time #ALSO TY FOR GIVING ME THE MOTIVATION TO FINALLY MAKE THIS #may pin this or redirect it to ppl if they ever get curious about the concept :3

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