#this has all happened in the past like three days

[madamechrissy]

Silent Serenades

♔ An arranged Marriage with Duke Gojo ♔

♔ Pairings: Satoru Gojo x you - in this chap it's Satoru Gojo x mistress, Nanami x you It's messy and will get messier :)

♔ Warnings: Sex, infidelity, mentions of past self harm, panic attacks, cheating on both ends, cruelty from Duke Gojo. OOC. ANGST. Say hello to Mr. Nanami hehe. Gojo is TERRIBLE still, you're warned

♔ Word count this chap: 7.8k

♔ Summary: you are the diamond of the season, he is the charming Duke, it’s the marriage of the decade. Prominent families joining, and it so happens that Duke Gojo is gorgeous. But, he doesn't want you, and now you're trapped in a loveless arranged marriage. Royal AU, dark bridgerton vibes, Cruel Gojo x reader. OOC Set in 1800s England. Gojo is awful at first, HEAVY angst Basically- Gojo is a royal dick and doesn't wanna marry you

♔Part Two - ♔ Playlist ♔ Masterlist

Part Three

The next day, you had your Nanny help you dress into a simple blue dress that hugged your curves just right, but wasn’t too revealing. You had your hair up in a neat bun, with little ringlets framing your face, along with a little bonnet that has a pretty blue ribbon wrapped around under your chin.

“You look stunning, Lady Gojo.” She says softly, and you smile at her in the mirror.

“Thank you, Nan. I feel more… determined this morning. I shall have a good day, no matter what.” You say with a little smile, and she hugs you tight, you hesitantly head down the grand, winding staircase, and when you turn toward the door you bump right into Satoru’s hard body.

“Oof!” You nearly fall, but for some reason he catches you, his arm wrapping your waist before you careen on your backside. You gasp, looking up at him then, and his face is soft for just a moment as he holds you, as he looks at your face carefully, then lower. “I’m so clumsy. I’m sorry.”

He eases you to stand, adjusting his own blue suit that he is wearing, along with a brocade vest and elegantly tied cravat. His trousers are clinging to his well formed thighs, along with a glimmering pair of hessian boots. You may despise him but the man clearly dresses impeccably, something you also do, though he’d likely never admit such things.

“You are quite clumsy indeed. Off to town?” He asks, he’s brushing himself off as if to get the touch of you away. You nod nervously, looking down a bit, fiddling with the lace on your dress.

“I am indeed, do you need anything while I am out? The modiste is right by all sorts of shops.” You ask, earning a raised brow, pursed full lips… his eyes raking over you cruelly. You tense.

“I need nothing from you but for you to not exist, perhaps.” You gasp then, stepping back at the insanely harsh words, from nothing. He sighs, blinking a bit, running a hand through silky white hair before looking at you, then when he sees your tears, his haughty expression changes.

You say nothing, as you feel your chest pounding with your heart’s rhythm, your throat constricting. Composed and perfect, how!? How when you try so hard to be kind and he so casually destroys you, destroys that positivity you’d cultivated this morning. You tremble as you fight your tears, but soon they’ve overtaken you, and you’ve turned away, clutching your throat as it wracks through you.

You’re damn near hyperventilating when he has a hand on your shoulder, that burns you and fills you with disgust. “I shouldn’t have said that, are you…” You turn to glare up at him through your tears, and it’s the first time you see emotion in his face, his eyes swirling with a thin film of moisture. “I shouldn’t have.”

“I try so hard… every day… to just… to just…” You can’t breathe now, and you can feel the blood pressure rising, you can feel your fingertips go numb as your lungs refuse to work.

“Please, let’s sit, you’re-”

“Hands… off…” You’re practically wheezing now, but Gojo doesn’t remove his damn hands, he’s trying to lead you to sit down on the steps, and you’re smacking at him through the blurry vision of your tears.

“Can I get you something, you don’t look good. You-”

“You… don’t… care. Let me… not breathe…” You feel like you’ll faint then and there, as your hands press on your throat, and Gojo is gripping your shoulders, turning you around then, before you know it he’s yanked at your corset strings, loosening them, and you finally get a breath, leaned over the rail, shaking.

He’s rubbing you right between your shoulder blades as you sit on the step in front of him, trembling as oxygen comes back. You hate his touch, you hate him, you hate him so much. “Breathe.”

You want to laugh, but you can’t manage to.

Breathe as if it’s so simple.

It’s quiet as he’s rubbing your back, and it feels… calming, and you hate it, hate his touch, with his long, elegant fingers brushing bare skin. “I’m quite alright now, you may go. Do not let me ruin your day.”

His hand pauses its gentle brushes, now one is sliding down to your shoulder, and his exhale makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. “You lace your corset far too tightly, it’s digging into your back.” He makes you tremble as he runs his touch down the red criss cross marks left on your delicate skin.

“I have to make sure I don’t look bigger to you than I already do to you.” You whisper harshly, and he laughs, dark and husky.

“I already said that wasn’t true. Don’t expect me to repeat that.”

“Yes, well. Why not let me stop breathing, it would solve your problems, wouldn’t it?” You turn then, chest heaving as your body greedily sucks in breaths. “You wouldn’t have to look upon my face again.”

He blinks a bit, lips setting in a terse line as his jaw clenches, hands falling down to his sides. “I shouldn’t have said it that way.”

“Is that one of your half ass apologies again? What have I done to deserve any of this, I ask again. Any of this.”

“You need to calm down, you’re all red again.” He’s touching an overheated cheek, so you smack his hand away, earning a more typical glare from him.

“There were times I wished I didn’t exist.” You rub that scar then, looking away in the distance, your heart starts to slow down finally. His eyes dart to the action and he takes your hand in his, looking down in confusion, you yank it back quickly.

He gulps now, eyes locked there, looking visibly more pale. “I did not mean I wished you dead. I meant… not in my life.”

You blink back that emotion, wishing you could fully hide your reactions, but he pushes you until you’ll break. “I also wish I wasn’t in your life, Duke.”

You both sit there, hatred and anger lingering between you, forcing you to stand then, swiping at your face. “You cried.”

“Imagine that. Even I have a breaking point.” You adjust your dress then, as he stands, tall and looming over you.

“Turn, I’ll fix them looser.” You want to argue, but you cannot tie your own corset, so you oblige, and he begins to tie them, firm but not too tightly, deft fingers working each ribbon. “Corsets are nonsense. I don’t enjoy them. Too much work to make a woman naked.” You laugh humorlessly at that, as he keeps lacing you up.

“Well good news for you, you’ll never have to take one off me.” You quip, making him pause, stepping just a little closer, sending shivers down your spine.

He clears his throat, continuing on now. “That’s true. Thank God for that.”

You blink in anger, struggling to hold it in. “Indeed. I’m sure I’m quite hideous to you, aren’t I?”

He says nothing for a moment, hands on the ribbons of your corset just paused there, as you both breathe heavily in the entryway of the Manor. “I have not seen your body to make such judgments.”

“I’d never show you, fret not. Imagine, the first man that sees me naked tells me how disgusting I am. I’ll make sure the one who does finds me beautiful. Ah!”

He ties it tight finally, and just stays there behind you. “So eager for another man to see you naked?”

“No, I’m not, but I know the one I choose will find me beautiful. Not passable, or adequate.” You turn now, looking up at him, seeing the anger in his gaze. “Imagine if every time I saw you shirtless I said ‘unattractive’.”

He scoffs at that. “Tch, you wouldn’t, who would?”

You scoff then, smiling a bit. “Who would say that to me if they saw me topless? I assure you, nobody would.”

His eyes dart back down then, to your breasts, pushed high and full, tantalizing his gaze, but they then trail back to your pretty face. “You’re awfully confident about such things.”

“Yes well, you won’t ruin that for me too. You already have ruined my life. You will not take the confidence I built, hard as you try.”

“An abundance of it.”

“So men can have it, but women cannot? You wish for a simpering little chit to beg ‘oh Satoru, please call me pretty!’ That must be why you enjoy Miss Catherine so bloody much, and why you hate me.” You’re putting the back of your hand to your head, simpering, and earning a sharp laugh and a scowl.

“You expect men to fawn over you, as they always have, just like Lord Geto did last night, hmm?” You smile as you remember just how much Geto did think you were beautiful, and Satoru’s eyes narrow at that.

“No, I expect kindness and not cruelty. I expect to have a morning where I’m not told to not exist.” Gojo looks down, his broad shoulders hunched. “All I asked was if you needed something. You’re the cruelest person I’ve met, and you thrive in it.”

His cheeks turn red, as he looks down at your lips, eyes lingering where you've left teeth indentations from biting so hard. “You don’t even know me.”

“You don’t know me. And you never will, by your own choice.” You push past him then, and he stops you with a hand on your wrist. “What!?”

“Do you have the money I left for you in your room?” You laugh at that, a bark of laughter really, why does he insist on lingering and hurting you more and more!?

“Yes, I do.”

“You may also put anything you want on my credit. Jewelry, or shoes, ribbon, whatever you require.”

“I won’t use your money for more than necessary.”

“I’ll not have my wife with a bare neck, and there’s a masquerade coming. Purchase a mask and jewelry accordingly.”

You sigh, looking down at where he still holds your wrist, big hand taking the delicate thing over. “Fine, then, I shall do so.”

“Very well.” He lets you go slowly, but he lingers there, like the pest he’s becoming “Are you fine to go out in this warm weather after nearly fainting?”

“What do you care, it could eliminate your problem. You’d get my insanely high dowry and I’ll be gone.” You smile coldly back at him, his mouth is open, his pretty eyes sorrowful.

“I-”

“Goodbye, your grace. Tell Catherine hello when you fuck her for me.” You walk out then, slamming the manor doors behind you, pressing your back against them and struggling to come to.

Just when you think he cannot get more cruel, he does, and he’s forcing this dark part of you that you don’t know what to think of.

It’s a bit of a drive into town in the grand carriage, but the air is crisp and the horses are moving swiftly. You see the little shops as you pull up, the horses clipped and clopped on the cobblestone streets. The numerous people are all dressed in their Sunday best, couples holding hands, and it’s quite the sight.

The modiste is a charming little shop with a bell that tinkles when you walk in, and immediately a flurry of activity starts. The women inside all look up at you, gasping. “Your Grace! What brings you to us?”

You blink, as the woman who had called out is a beautiful woman with a pretty accent, she has light blue braids that decorate her pretty face, making her look mysterious. “Hello Miss Mei! I wish to pick out some new dresses for the season, it’s been a while since I’ve had any new ones made, also we have the masquerade soon which is the priority. Would you mind helping me?”

“Oh, of course, of course!” She says, bustling over, she’s tall and curved and so elegant. “Let’s get you into the back so we can have a proper look, shall we?” She grabs your hand and pulls you back into the back, as you realize the woman’s quite strong.

“Your Grace, we are so honored to be of service to you!” Her assistant, Utahime, is a delicate and pretty brunette, who cheerfully greets you. You smile over at her.

“Please, just call me Lady Gojo for now. I am not feeling so formal today, and I’d like to enjoy your company without the title weighing on us, if that’s okay?” They both nod eagerly, and they get to work, pulling out fabrics and dresses, asking your opinions.

It’s refreshing to be around such genuine cheer, such pure love for their craft, and you find yourself smiling more and more as you look over the fabrics, for a beautiful moment your cruel husband isn’t in your mind. Utahime holds up a deep blue that matches his eyes, though, but it’s beautiful. You sigh.

“Oh, yes, that’s lovely!”

“It’s perfect, Lady Gojo! And it’ll compliment your husband so nicely!” She says, as Mei Mei agrees, holding up a silver one. “This would be for a masquerade?”

“I’d like to think so, yes. I’ve not been to one in so long!”

The girls giggle a bit, as they start pulling out designs, and your mind drifts off to a past you’ve pushed aside. You’d gone to a masquerade once, before you’d met Gojo, and you’d felt so alive, dancing with a mysterious stranger, feeling his hands on you, feeling so desired. He was blond, wasn’t he!?

You’d been so young then, you still were but twenty one, but you were perhaps seventeen when you’d danced in his arms, and you can remember those glimmering hazel eyes drinking you in, a lazy smile on his face. You’d fancied yourself in love then and there, just a teenager of course, and you two had almost kissed on one of the balconies.

He’d cupped your face so delicately, and your eyes had fluttered shut. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve seen, darling.”

“You’re the most handsome man I’ve seen, Sir.” You’d tip toed, finger lifting at his mask teasingly, making him laugh. “Even more handsome I imagine without this.”

“I should say the same.” He begins to lift your mask then, off your face so gently, then he had sucked in a breath, running rough but gentle fingers down your face. “Stopped my heart.”

“Oh, you go on, Sir.” You look down shyly, but he’s tilting your chin up, his breath warm and sweet against your lips.

“An angel amongst mere mortals. Should I have such an honor?” He’s leaning further, and your heart is hammering in your chest, then you hear it, your mother.

“Shit!” You back off, putting your mask back on, earning his chuckle.

“The angel has a mouth.” You giggle then, leaning up and kissing his cheek, before backing away. He reaches for you, but you’re running off. “Perhaps we’ll meet again, Sir!”

“Let’s try this one on!” Utahime says, holding up a gorgeous gown, and you nod eagerly, shaking out of your reverie. Ah, to have been young and hopeful.

You allow them to help you out of your day dress and into this beautiful creation, and as you look in the mirror, you can’t help but feel like that girl again, the one who felt alive, the one who felt desired. The one before Satoru Gojo in just a week or so had been absolutely destroyed. You see it in your eyes, she is still there.

“You’re positively glowing, Lady Gojo!” Mei Mei says, and Utahime nods in agreement.

“Thank you, thank you both so much. This is just what I needed!” And it truly was, as you spun in the gown, watching the fabric flutter around you like a storm of silk, it’s the prettiest silver you’ve ever seen.

“We can have this adjusted before the masquerade, Is there anything else we can do for you?” Utahime asks, and you look over to the side, seeing a few accessories. “Oh, a necklace perhaps?”

“Yes I believe so. Perhaps silver to match?” Mei Mei grabs a few to show you, as you try them on, looking into the mirror.

“This one!” Utahime says, holding up a necklace with glittering sapphires. “It’s so beautiful on you!”

You agree, and they put it around your neck, the cool stone resting against your collarbone. “How much?”

It’s an insane amount but…

Fuck Gojo, you can at least get pretty things, yes?

“Thank you, so much. You’ve made my day.” They both smile broadly, and you realize how much you’ve missed this, the simple kindness of others. Leaving the manor is like a huge breath of fresh air.

As you leave the modiste, feeling so much lighter, clinging to your bag with some of your purchases, most will be delivered as they’re still being made. Then you see him, a man in the distance, watching you, and your heart stops. He's tall and blond, just like this dream of yours, just like that night…

It can’t be, can it?

He looks right at you across the bustling street, and his face lights up in recognition, a small tired smile on his handsome face. He comes across the way, stopping in front of you now, and your heart thuds in your chest. Oh but if you’d met him again, could everything have changed? But who was he?

“It’s the mysterious masquerade angel.” He teases, and you giggle a bit, as he takes your hand and kisses the back of it with warm lips.

Your eyes take in his every feature, from his sharp cheekbones, to his thin upper lip and full lower, a conundrum that begged for kisses. His hand that holds yours is so strong, rough, not like the gentlemen you’re used to, and it serves to make your heart flutter.

His hazel eyes that you remember vividly are tilted up like a cat, and he has dark circles under them, serving to show along with rough hands how hard he must work. His sandy blond hair makes you remember that dream, and suddenly you feel even more flustered, as you put it together. He’s nearly as tall as Geto and Gojo, but he’s much broader, shoulders massive under a sleek tan suit.

“How rude of me, just staring.” You give him your name, and it sounds far too good on his lips, with his deep, sultry voice, emanating so much warmth and kindness when his lips quirk. You realize he’s still holding your hand.

“Kento Nanami. It’s a pleasure to meet you again.” His thumb brushes your ring then, and he frowns down at it. “Ah, and met you too late?”

“It’s quite a long story I’m afraid, Mr. Nanami.” You say softly, he looks at you curiously, studying your face.

“Forgive me for saying this, but you look so very… forlorn. Have things been rough in this… marriage?”

“Oh…” You’re nearly about to cry in front of a near stranger, but he makes you feel so comfortable, you ache for him to hold you in his arms. “It’s been rough, yes. I should not go on here…” You notice people looking, so you ease back your hand reluctantly. “I’m afraid as Duchess I’m highly watched, and don’t get the luxury of parading mistresses.”

“What? Mistresses… oh. Fuck.” He huffs those words then, and tilts his head, and you begin to join his walk. “I know some areas that are not so busy, I live just a block from here.”

“That would be nice, thank you Sir.” His arm brushes against yours as you all walk, and you remember dancing in his arms that night. “I’m so surprised you remember me.”

“I’m more so surprised, my Lady. Or… your Grace now is it?”

“You don’t need to call me all that, please.” He hears the pain in your voice, his hazel gaze taking you in seriously as you continue to walk together, the gentle breeze blowing your bonnet nearly off. It starts to fly and you catch it, giggling breathlessly, and Nanami pauses, taking it fully off.

“I cannot even say how beautiful you are, even moreso than before. Surely the Duke would have me whipped, hmm?”

“No, actually, it’s an odd situation. He cares nothing for me.”

“Even if you…”

“No, even then. You know, I was seventeen then, Sir.” You tease, gently pushing his hard chest with two fingers, making him flush even more on those high cheekbones.

He grimaces at that. “Oh gods, were you?”

“I turned eighteen the next week, but yes I was just a girl then. How old are you, Mr. Nanami?”

“Twenty seven. I am a tired twenty seven.”

You roll your eyes. “Just six years, silly man.” He is still holding your bonnet, and he awkwardly hands it back to you, smiling apologetically. Your fingers brush, and you both pause then, it’s like little shocks run through you, you gasp a bit as you gently take it from him. “I hear daily I’m intolerable, so you have free range to speak. It’s quite nice to hear.

“Noble men seem to think they can do whatever they wish, I'm afraid. How are you not enough?”

Mr. Nanami’s words make your palms sweat, as you feel his nearness, the heat from his body as you walk next to him, to where the crowds were more dispersed. It was a little warm out as well, the sun shining on his golden skin, making it glow, as you all stand far too close, and you enjoy it so much you’d feel bad, if your husband wasn’t Satoru Gojo.

“He does not… we do nothing. It’s simply only his mistresses. So it’s not that I’m not enough, it’s that I don’t exist in that way at all.”

“What!?” He pauses again, raising a light brow, and you hesitate, looking down, where he has the most ludicrous tie on. You briefly imagine pulling it, pulling him down… what is wrong with you?

“I’m disgusting to him. So.” You hate the emotion choking your throat, he’s scowling down now, and you’re far too close. “It’s a long story, but it was arranged, and he did not want me.”

“So he doesn’t want the most beautiful woman in London?” You blush furiously, shaking your head a bit. “So who does he expect? There’s no lovelier.”

“Thank you, Mr. Nanami, but… it matters naught. It’s lonely, loveless, and I am stuck in it. I do wish we met sooner, but my parents…”

“Surely there are things to be done, even with a Duke. If you’ve done nothing, an annulment is possible. My good friend is a lawyer, perhaps I could ask discreetly?”

You tilt your head to look up at him curiously. “Why would you help me? You don’t know me.”

“Why wouldn’t I help a pretty damsel in distress, hmm?” You smile up at him, with watery eyes, and watch him suck in a breath as he studies you.

“Are you a knight in shining armor, Mr. Nanami?” You whisper, he bows then at the waist, peeking up at you and making you melt.

“For you, darling, anything.”

Fuck.

“Anything, hmm?” You both walk down the trail to the park, where it’s quiet this time of day, grassy knolls and beautiful lush flowers bloom. It fills you with an odd peace your soul has been so lacking.

“I imagine any man would offer the same. Except for your…” He trails off, as if he does not want to say his name, to say you’re married.

“The Duke.” You say softly. He sighs.

“Mmm. I’ve heard he’s a rather immature, foolish man. But to be so… such an imbecile. Is mind boggling.”

“He’s cruel to me.” You both keep walking, you’re walking with a stranger practically, but you feel more comfortable than you have since you’ve been stuck with your husband. His words still make your heart ache.

Wish you didn’t exist.

“Has he… hurt you?” Nanami pauses you, in a field surrounded by willow trees, casting blissful shadows across you both, shade from the warm sun. You lick your lower lip when he caresses your cheek gently, before pausing. “I’m sorry I should not be so bold…”

“No, please don’t stop, it feels good.” You put his hand back, your breasts rising and falling with each breath in your bodice, drawing his gaze for just a moment, before he respectfully looks back into your eyes. You’re holding his hand on your face, falling apart inside. “Not physically really. His words are the knives that twist in my chest.”

“You don’t deserve that. This sadness in your eyes… It's heartbreaking when I think of you a few years ago, glittering eyes and a beautiful grin.” You gulp a bit, stepping closer, inhaling the scent of him, like warm sandalwood.

“I wanted so badly to see you again.” You admit, lashes fluttering as you study his strong chest in this light blue dress shirt, it looks so broad and strong, your fingers itch to touch it.

“I’m not in your social circle, I’m a mere businessman. Who partakes in boxing at times.” You brush your thumb across his knuckles, calloused and scarred.

“I can tell you know how to use your hands.” He blushes then, and you blink a bit. “Was that bad to say?”

“Forgive me but… how much have you done?”

“Oh… nothing. A kiss. The duke said he will not lay with me.” Nanami takes a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair now.

“Using hands… it made me think about things I should not. Touching you.” His husky whisper makes your tummy clench with… is this desire?

“Oh.” Your voice is a breathy whisper. “I’ve seen him with his mistress, um her… riding him. So I've seen sex.”

His hazel eyes widen. “You’ve seen it!? Him with her?”

“Well yes, he doesn’t hide it. She’s always around.”

His jaw clenches, and you watch a vein popping out of his strong neck, you errantly trail a fingertip down it, making him tense even more, his free hand now on the nip of your waist. “I hate this for you. I’ll try to help, if I can.”

“For now, I will be stuck in this, and all I can think of is how good I’d feel in your arms. It’s very scandalous of me. Isn’t it?” He blinks then, lowering his face until you’re so close.

“No, it’s not scandalous to want affection. I’d say that makes you human. But would this hurt you? Would he hurt you for it?” He’s pressing you back gently, until your back is against a thick oak tree. You can’t stop the little whine that escapes the back of your throat as your own hands slide around his thick waist.

“I would not reveal who you are. But I’ve told him I will have someone find me beautiful, the first person to see me, not grotesque or… passable.”

He scoffs then, his hand sliding up the side of your breast, pressing just so, and your head falls back, as you can taste coffee on his breath. “He should not get to see your beauty. So does my darling simply want a hug from me, or does she wish for something else?”

“Your darling, hmm?” He smirks a bit, his eyes growing lidded with desire, as his hard body pressed against yours.

“Do you know how many dreams you’ve occupied? Running away from me and cursing like a man.” You giggle, brightly, and he laughs with you softly, your breaths intermingling together. Would you truly kiss two men in two days, and neither of them are your husband? “That was the grin.”

“It’s easy to forget the world with you, it was that night as well. You have no clue the awful week I’d had before we danced.” You run your hand up and down his chest, over the silky tie, fingers itching to pull him in.

“I’m glad to look upon this face again. I thought you were a dream.”

“I may have… seen you in my dream too.”

“I’m not so worthy.” You shake your head, eyes drinking him in slowly.

“You’re a very handsome man, Nanami Kento. Would it hurt you to… to kiss someone that can’t fully be yours though?”

“I’d suffer any sort of pain for a chance at you.”

“You go on too much.” You tiptoe then, pulling his tie, and one hand braces by your head on the tree, the other sliding down your back, making your nipples go taut against your bodice.

“So use your words, darling, let me know what you want?” You bite your lip at his sultry words, as you feel yourself back at that night, in his arms.

“A kiss, mysterious man. You owed me one.” He exhales then, pressing you further against the hard wood of the tree, and his lips descending on yours, so gentle and sweet, a featherlight touch that ignites something inside of you.

You whimper into his lips, and he moans, opening them then, and sliding his tongue inside, you press yours against his, in a back and forth dance, swirling around each other. Your teeth click as the kiss deepens, and now his hands are both on your little waist, overtaking it, burning through your corset, through your dress, fuck his touch feels so good, you’re leaning up for more.

Your hands enwrap in his silky hair, messing the perfect set of it up, then he shocks you, picking you up, just dangling you off the ground, you squeak a bit and he pulls back, hungry eyes, his face stark with hunger, mirroring your own. He eases you down, sliding on his hard body, and you cling tightly, trying to catch your breath.

“Imagine this pretty face cumming.” He whispers, and you are blushing as you don’t fully understand.

“Um… what is that, Mr. Nanami?” He pales a bit, sighing and cupping your face now, his free hand sliding down your hip now, leaving goosebumps in its trail.

“I’ll surely go to hell for not just you being married, but so innocent. Corrupting one as such seems a one way ticket to hell.” You giggle again, though he’s serious, glaring a bit at you. You kiss him once more, enjoying the sigh he makes.

“Explain, Sir. An order from your Duchess.” You tease, and he rolls his eyes a bit, stepping back to look at you.

“Cumming… or climaxing, it’s pleasure. For you.” He murmurs, his gaze glinting green in this light now, licking that glossy lower lip now. Your tummy clenches again, and now you feel heat… between your thighs, making you look down nervously. “Am I saying too much?”

“It’s having an odd effect. Um. Here.” You take his hand, gliding it down to your lower tummy, watching his eyes dilate, so dark as his cheeks hollow with him sucking in a breath.

“That would be desire. Is this a… first?” You nod nervously, furiously blushing now.

“To this extent yes. It’s spreading lower.”

“Going to hell for this.” You are curious but he’s back to kissing you again, and now his hand is sliding to your breasts, and he yanks your bodice down, making you gasp as he peers at the breasts that have spilled. “Fuck you’re so beautiful.”

“I… um… Nanami?” He’s cupping them, and your eyes flutter shut at how good it feels, him squishing them so gently in big hands. “Nanami!”

“Perfect. May I?” You look down curiously, as he’s sitting now, pulling you onto his lap, straddling him obscenely. You’re a mess of emotions and desire, as he kisses down your collarbone. “May I kiss them, darling?”

“Oh, you want to?”

“I’m dying to.”

“Yes, you may. Ah!” You gasp in pleasure then, as you’re feeling something hard against where you’re so eager, that apex of your thighs. You grind on it, moaning at the friction, and he’s sucking your nipple into his mouth, it feels so good you get wet down there. “Oh no!”

“What, darling?” He asks softly, and you feel so embarrassed, looking down. “You’re so hot there.”

“It’s wet. Is that…”

“Fuck you are killing me.” He’s pressing your hips down further, and you whine out in pleasure at the friction, as he’s sucking another nipple in his hot mouth. Your body is reacting so hard to it all, your head falling back, and you’re moaning loudly now. “Wet is very good, darling. But… you’re quite loud.”

“Is that bad?” He chuckles, pulling your top up, shaking his head.

“Not if we weren’t outside. Perhaps… alone.”

“Let’s do that?”

“You’re so eager for that, hmm?” You nod, and he is kissing you again, leaning up and moaning, hands trembling against your hips. “Are you sure? Do you have so much time?”

“Does it last long?”

“Pleasuring you yes. I am thinking of too many ways currently.” You take a shaky breath, trying to compose yourself.

“What are the ways? Mmh.”

“Those noises you make, gods.” He kisses down your throat, wrapping arms around you. “I’m dreaming.”

“I am.” He chuckles against your collarbone, tickling it, your hands cling to his broad shoulders. “It’s like my woes faded for a few moments.” You say sadly then, as you come to the realization of just what you’re doing. It hits hard, how easily you fall into this man’s arms.

“I could please you with my fingers, with my mouth, or both. To start.” You bite your lower lip, as you grow impossibly wetter against him. “But we’ve done a lot, and I don’t want to overwhelm you, when you’re so upset already.”

He is correct, you’re acting on instinct, there is no… thoughts here.

You were Gojo’s wife.

Would you be as bad as him if you go further?

“I’ll let you know where my apartments are, then you decide what you want. And darling, I’ll give it to you.” You feel tears flowing then, and he swipes them away, kissing on your cheeks.

“You mean make love?”

“I’m not sure you’re ready for that. No, I would please you.”

“What if I ask so sweetly?” He chuckles, and taps your nose, shaking his head at you as he eases you up to stand, holding your hands.

“You cuss and are so wanton, hmm?”

“I suppose I’m not so ladylike.”

“You’re very much a Lady.” He kisses you again, gently once more, brushing his lips over yours. “I will make some inquiries quietly, if you so decide to try.”

“I’m afraid it will be no option but it surely won't hurt. I am so very glad we met again. You’ve made me so happy.”

“I didn’t make you cum though.” You are a mess at that, and he’s smirking at you. “You’re too adorable to tease.”

“Sir!” He kisses you again and again, until you both get heated again. “What if I stay so quiet?”

“Can you even? If you’re so loud from kissing?”

“Hush, Sir.” You stick your tongue out, making him chuckle, then you hastily get yourself together, as you all head back to town. When you’re by your carriage you dread what awaits you at home. “I hope to see you again, Sir.”

“I ache to see you again, darling.” He kisses your hand once more, helping you up into the carriage, and your heart is still pounding as you ride off, covering your face and struggling to not rip your damn corset off. You’re so wet between your thighs you reach your finger down scandolously, up your skirts, finding sticky wetness glistening on your fingers.

Fuck.

You’ve never felt like this, Suguru’s kiss and unfortunately Satoru’s touches had felt a bit of that pressure, but Nanami has wrecked you. The way he touched you, kissed you, the way he looked at you. With adoration, the whispers of his sweet words tickle your ears still. You run your finger down your lips of your sex, shivering at how sensitive you are.

You’ve never touched yourself.

You’ve kissed two men in two days, now you play with yourself in a carriage, you don’t even know yourself… but fuck if it didn’t feel good, to lose yourself in his arms, and fuck if you weren’t tempted to see him again. He’d seen your breasts, which were now firmly back in your bodice, but you can see the little red marks left from his bites, from him sucking on them.

Your heart is going to burst from your chest, as you walk into your home then, and Satoru is moaning, you hear it clear as day. You tense a bit, because it sounds too loud to be far away, then he’s right there, bending over some other mistress, right on the dining room table. When he hears you he pauses, looking back and you’re getting a view of his entire ass, and someone’s thighs.

“Really, on the table?” You demand then, and he rolls his eyes, as the mistress squeals, pulling back and covering up. “Where’s Catherine?”

“She said she couldn’t any longer because you’re too nice and she feels horrible.” He adjusts himself, but not before you get an eye full of his… very large cock, huge and curved with a pink tip. You feel an odd hit again in your tummy, but it mixes with disgust as you realize where it had just been.

“I’m sorry. I won’t be as nice.” You say, and he scoffs, as you walk past now, yanking off the table cloth, not moving a single thing on it with the movement. Satoru’s blue eyes get wide in shock when you shove it into the mistress’ arms, a little brunette girl. “Have those cleaned you little chit, understood? I’ll not have you soiling such fine linen.”

She sputters, then runs off, nodding. Satoru smirks, surprising you then, you figured he’d be irritated, but he saunters to you, his dress shirt wide open, tie hanging loose now. You feel such disgust from him, clearly covered in her, red lipstick all over his throat.

“Do it in your chambers. Could you at least give me that kindness?”

“You don’t enjoy to watch? You don’t picture yourself there?” He presses you against the table now and you smirk up at him.

“Oh, not with you I don’t.”

His thin white brows lower, as he takes you in now. Your hair is loose and flowing, and you have red marks all over your breasts, earning a full fucking scowl. “What on earth have you been doing?”

“Just kissing, don’t worry. But… I got so wet, now I know what you meant that night, Duke.” You put a hand on his chest, and feel his heart race under your palm, his chest heaving as his blue eyes bore into your face.

“Wet?”

“Mmhmm. Soaking wet.” He shuts his eyes, sucking in a breath and looking away, hands clenching the table on either side of you so tightly you would think he’d break the wood. “I wasn’t that night. How could I be? Smacking doesn’t have that effect.”

“Yes well you would have been if I’d touched you.” He leans in closer, a breath away, and you just continue to smile, batting your eyelashes.

“You never will, so no matter. But I don’t think so. I think I enjoy…” You shove at him, making him step back. “Rougher hands.”

“Rougher hands!?” You giggle now, and he glares. “You’re in a good fucking mood. Ice princess can laugh?”

“I can when not being told not to exist. When not walking in on some whore screaming your name.”

“Oh whores are they, and you?”

“I’m a lady who has a terrible fucking husband. For now.”

“For now!?” You walk away now as he stumbles back, but he follows you, as you glide up the stairs, humming. “What does that mean?”

“No sex, no marriage really. So we’ll have an annulment. But we’ll give it some time for now, perhaps a year, so that you can keep ahold of that dowry.” He’s following you up each step, until he’s pinning you against the wall, but he doesn’t scare you, you see him losing it.

“So what we have sex? Is that what you’re getting at?”

“Oh no, I’m glad we don’t. I can’t wait for my first time to be special. Oh I hear my breasts are beautiful by the way.” You tap his chin with a finger, grinning, and he is huffing now, one hand entangling in your hair, the other sliding to your bodice.

“Men say anything to get under a lady’s skirts.”

“Mmm, maybe so. But it was nice to hear. Don’t worry, I won’t ask your opinion, I see who you fuck and… it’s nothing like me, is it?”

“You assume they’re that nice? Show me then. All talk.” You raise a brow, and he is fingering the lace of your bodice.

“I’m unnatractive to you, what’s it matter? But sure, Duke, you can untie my corset and let me know your nasty opinion.” You rush into your room and he’s following you, overheated as he unties you at a stupidly fast pace.

“Let me guess, he sucked on those perky nipples?” He whispers, yanking your corset off harshly, and you tilt your head curiously, feeling the chill of the room when he’s yanked it off fully. You take off your bodice, turning in just your shift then, hands on your strips as his gaze is…

Hungry?

No.

Psychotic.

“Perky hmm? Yes, he did, and it felt so good. Well, here…” You slide your shift down to your waist, looking down as you wait for his nasty comments. He says nothing, but you hear him bump into your nightstand. You look at him curiously, as his mouth is slack open, staring at them openly. “Go on, make your insults.”

He just stares, and it’s… odd, your nipples are hard from the chill of the room, as your lush breasts sway slightly when you shift from one leg to the other. You sigh, rolling your eyes then, and covering yourself back up, as he’s still sputtering, and he comes to grip your wrists now, in a tight, bruising grip, bringing your attention to his face once more.

“Say it, your Grace. Passable? Or grotesque?” You whisper, and he leans down now, until his lips are far too close, making you want to simultaneously recoil and lean closer.

You hate this man.

“They’re perfect.” He says softly, and you do back away then, with shocked eyes, as he gulps, clearing his throat, blue eyes lingering down to where your breasts nearly hang out in your shift.

“You jest with me, of course. I know you don’t-”

“They’re fucking perfect.” He says again, then he lets you go, and you feel the very room close in on you.

“As nice as the little slut you’re fucking now?” You quip, angrily, and he rakes a hand through his hair, looking down, his abdomen flexing as he moves back. “Catherine was prettier.”

“Jesus fucking…” You look down then, and notice it… the huge bulge in his pants, and you blink a bit in confusion, looking back up at him again. His face looks tortured.

“Well thanks for saying one nice thing about me. That is… surprising.” You mumble then. “It looks like you’re wanting to finish fucking that girl though.”

“Blasted you’re stupid.”

“Me stupid?”

“Stupid.” He pulls you against him then, so you shove at him now, glaring up at him. “What, I cannot touch you?”

“We don’t do that. And thank you for that, because I get to have true pleasure, and not some forced formality.”

He searches your face then. “Did you cum?”

“Did I… no… what’s it your business!?” You demand heatedly.

“You’re my wife.” Those words are so meaningless, where you once hoped to have meaning, it makes you laugh then, losing it, there was no longer composure.

“You wanted this, to do nothing with me, and guess what, I want that too. You smell like her cheap perfume, you’re covered in her wetness, you think I want you?” You ask, and he grips tighter, scowling at you.

“You think I said I wanted you? For nice tits?” Ah, there it is.

“No, I don’t, that’s why I found someone who does. Works out, doesn’t it, dear husband. Now go on, you have whores to fuck. Hop to it Duke.”

“Hop to it… you insolent little…” You’re just giggling, and he’s not glaring, it’s like he’s confused who you are.

“I see why you’re always fucking, even kissing does put me in quite a happy little mood.” You tap his cheek now, earning another grip on your wrists. “Not kissing you though, that was horrible.”

“I didn’t try to kiss you.” He whispers, lingering close once more. You ignore the flutter of your pulse at your throat. “I never wanted to kiss you.”

“That’s for the best. I’ve lost my appetite after seeing her on that table, so I won’t eat tonight. Best for you I imagine.” He glares now.

“I will have it sent to your room.”

“No need.”

“You’ll eat.” He commands through gritted teeth, and you just blink at him in confusion.

“If you wish, dear husband.” He stomps away then, slamming your door, and you can’t help but smile. You’d gotten under his fucking skin, and you got to kiss sweet Nanami Kento.

Gojo does send up food for you, he’s very confusing, isn’t he? You nibble carefully, hearing him louder than ever in the room next to you. You sigh in annoyance, but when Nanami enters your mind, you smile, you feel warmth radiating through you. It could be hopeless, but it was such a beautiful feeling you were thriving from it.

Unfortunately, instead of Nanami, it’s your rather horrid husband that is under that tree with you, that’s sucking under your breasts, with his blue eyes looking lustfully up at you, his perfect cheeks hollowed as he grinds his length against where you’re so wet. You hate it, that even in your dreams you cannot escape him, and you hate it more when he’s bending you over that table.

That Goddamn Duke.

You hate him.

[lightseoul]

cw. gn!reader, worker!reader, prohero!katsuki, aged-up (25), pining (again, if you look extra closely), a lot of cussing (are we still surprised)

part 1 (although ig this makes sense on its own)

“What.”

It’s less of a question and more of a statement—a statement sputtered in the typically demanding way characteristic of the one and only Bakugou Katsuki.

The Bakugou Katsuki who happens to be your boss for a good (debatable) three and a half years now, who you also have to spend overtime with until who knows what time to discuss what’s become rocky employee relations in the Dynamight agency.

Your eyebrows furrow in confusion or irrational annoyance—both, really—before you quickly school your expression into a neutral one. You riffle through the documents rather absentmindedly, avoiding his gaze before shooting back with: “What do you mean what?”

“I meant,” he leans back on his office chair that you know he singlehandedly picked out for its superior ergonomic design because he’s meticulous like that, “what the fuck is wrong with your face.”

“Excuse me?”

Your retort is laced with more indignant anger than intended, but at this point in the night, you cannot for the life of you bring yourself to care about your tone. It’s been a long day, and you weren’t about to let your stupid boss make fun of your appearance, of all things.

Bakugou probably senses the significant change in your demeanor, because his eyes widen in surprise ever so slightly before he sits up and opens his mouth to explain himself.

“You’ve been looking like you accidentally drank spoiled milk for the past hour and the shit aftertaste isn’t going away.” He haughtily shakes his head, and it takes everything in you not to jump him and choke your boss.

To your disdain, however, he continues.

“It’s either you spit it out or I’m going to have to force you to tell me what’s wrong.”

You gape at him. Whatever you expected him to say, it wasn’t that.

As quickly as you can, however, you attempt to regain your bearings and at least try to seem nonchalant, clearing your throat as unbothered as possible to top it all off. “Well, working overtime to iron out office squabbles isn’t exactly my idea of a relaxing Friday night, thank you very much.”

He scoffs. “Bullshit.”

You almost get whiplash from how quickly you look at him. His brazen rudeness—which, right now, is worse than usual which is saying something, mind you—renders you incapable of saying anything aside from another winded: “Excuse me?”

He rolls his eyes. “Miss me with that bullshit, dumbass.”

You feel yourself heat up in irritation. “I thought I told you to stop calling me dumbass.”

“You’d rather I call you princess?”

At that, you break eye contact despite yourself, choosing to stare at his forehead instead. It’s still unnerving—looking at any part of his body, really—but it’s better than looking at him squarely and witnessing the smirk you know has taken over his unfairly handsome features.

Your voice is small, to your chagrin, when you reply. “That’s actually a lot worse.”

The man dares to bark out a laugh.

You continue to metaphorically choke him in your head.

“Okay then, dumbass,” he emphasizes the nickname and you are about 99% sure a pained expression is dancing across your face because Bakugou is observing you with even more amusement before his features settle into a look of seriousness.

“As I was saying before you missed the point entirely—I highly doubt you’re this bothered because of fucking overtime,” he eyes you cautiously before pressing on. “Something’s wrong.”

You don’t know if it’s the exhaustion of the week filled with workplace conflict, or the crushing news you received this morning in the mail, or the very fact that Bakugou, despite his roughness and the annoyingly persistent way he’s been poking at your mood like it’s an itchy scab, is looking at you with genuine concern—but you end up doing it.

You give in.

You feel the tears welling up in your eyes before you even get the chance to deny them permission to, and at the sight of them Bakugou sits up even straighter in alarm—and you don’t know what comes over you because you start laughing so hard, your hand shoots up to your stomach in an attempt to keep it from cramping.

“Oi.”

The expression on his face is so unbelievably baffled that you only end up cackling to yourself more.

It takes a few more minutes before the sillies are fully flushed out of your system and really, it only took you a glance at Bakugou to realize you probably looked demented just now.

Feeling self-conscious all of a sudden, you quickly wipe away the tears in your eyes and muster enough courage to flash him a genuine smile.

To your delight, he flashes you one right back, albeit tentatively—one that is boyish and charming under the rather dim lights of his corner office.

Although he seemingly reboots to his default state because it’s immediately replaced by a frown and followed by: “You’re so weird, you know that?”

You snort and, before you can stop yourself: “Not as weird as my ex.”

At that, Bakugou’s entire countenance changes—he visibly stiffens in his seat and his eyebrows furrow in what you believe is confusion at the sudden mention of your past lover.

Bakugou says nothing, however, and so you take that as a sign to continue.

“Remember that meeting we had last March with Chef Asahi about our collaboration with his restaurant where I was late and you gave me shit for it? And when you asked I told you it was because I just got dumped over the phone?”

He gives you a curt nod, lips tight.

“Well,” you chuckle nervously, feeling embarrassed at your upcoming revelation, “I just found out that that ex is getting married in two months, and I’m invited.”

Neither of you says anything for the next—what feels like—hour.

Until Bakugou takes a sharp inhale, leans forward on his desk, and stares you down straight in the eyes: “I’ll do it.”

“What?”

He scowls at you like you’ve got a pea for a brain. “Don’t make me say it twice, dumbass.”

You frown at his hostility, your own bewilderment chipping away at your already thinning patience. “You’re not saying anything.”

Bakugou sighs, and he looks like what he is about to say next physically pains him.

“I’ll be your fucking date to the wedding.”

tagging. @kitthepurplepotato @chelbyisbord @lovra974 @katsukis1wife @brunnetteiwik

special shoutout to @he3v4n for reading the prequel to this and following thereafter--inadvertently making me check out past writing and get inspired to write this <3

[respectthepetty]

In the context of Happy of the End's seventh and eighth episode, it makes sense that Chihiro is being lit up by the car's headlights as he awaits whatever punishment Maya has in store for him, but narratively, it's a beautiful reminder that even in the darkest moment, Chihiro is still light.

When he gets out of the situation thanks to some stray, but persistent, observers, he is still bright in the hospital bed although he is bruised, beaten, and rattled.

Because the one who is truly bothered by all of this is Black Brooder Haoran.

He blames himself for what has happened, and no matter how light Chihiro is, Haoran believes that his dark past will hurt Chihiro, and this incident has not only escalated his fears, but proven that the darkness has already gotten to Chihiro.

Chihiro's cracked arm is a constant reminder of this. It's nestled safely in its black sling, but that black is a visual indicator that Haoran's dark life is no longer in the past, but is alive in the present and harming Chihiro.

So while Chihiro stands in the light unaware of what's taking shape in Haoran,

Haoran isolates and moves back into the darkness.

Because to him, Chihiro will always be light.

And he and his dark past are the problem.

Chihiro continues to prove that he has never seen Haoran this way, and even when confronted with Haoran's troubles, time and time again, Chihiro has embraced them with love and light.

So they run away together. They venture around the beach on a sunny day. They align their colors in the best way they know how with Chihiro still light, and Haoran still dark.

But, that's the point. Haoran is still dark. He still thinks he is the problem. He is the one tainting Chihiro. He is the one who brings darkness wherever he goes and Chihiro would be light and bright without him. So he walks into the dark water, yet Chihiro drags him back.

And that's when Haoran makes one final attempt to rid Chihiro of his darkness. It's not that he tells Chihiro to leave him. It's that Haoran tells him that he is turning himself in. Since Chihiro won't stay away from Haoran, Haoran will do what he does best. Isolate, lock himself away, and cage himself up just like he was taught to do with a piece of luggage all those years ago.

Because Chihiro will be much lighter without him. He will be bright and happy. And we see that three years, Haoran was right.

But it's not because Haoran is no longer in Chihiro's life. Haoran is still very much part of Chihiro's life in the friends Chihiro still has and the people who help him. Chihiro never had this before. His family disowned him. He had no friends. But, now, because of Haoran, he has people he can depend on.

When Haoran is released from prison, he is lighter, but immediately walks into the darkness. Unlike the other times, we clearly see the light at the end. He won't stay in this darkness for long.

The black and darkness will always be there, but he will sit in the sun, and he will be lighter.

He will go for walks. He will be the light he needs.

So when he sees Chihiro and breaks down, he will believe the decision he made was right because Chihiro is fulfilling all his dreams without the darkness that was Haoran's life.

Which is why I loved that the shirt Chihiro wears is grey.

Which, once again, shows that Chihiro carries Haoran with him in everything he does.

Chihiro has accomplished his goals, but it's not because he doesn't have Haoran with him. It's because he always has Haoran with him. In the places they have gone together.

And the places they lived together. There are little glimpses of their life together in Chihiro's photography because without Haoran, Chihiro wouldn't be alive. Chihiro wouldn't have a reason to live. Chihiro wouldn't have a life filled with people who care about him and a job he once believed he was never meant for.

So it's important that Haoran comes face-to-(covered) face with himself before he sees Chihiro because it's important that he sees himself in Chihiro's life, and that he sees himself in Chihiro. Because there in the white frame is the light of Chihiro's life.

So even though Chihiro is in a white jacket with a blue shirt,

And Haoran is in black, he proudly wears the blue scarf Chihiro gave him to match him just like their last day together.

And he allows his picture to be taken.

Because Haoran finally understands that he never darkened Chihiro's world, and Chihiro's huge smile when he sees him proves it.

Haoran, even with all his darkness, was the happiest part of Chihiro's miserable existence. Haoran was the bright spot in Chihiro's life when he needed it most. Haoran is light, and when he picked Chihiro out of the trash, he changed Chihiro's entire life.

These color-coded boys in love get a happy ending because they showed that no matter how much darkness exists, there is always light.

And they were each other's light.

[scintillyyy]

wait. people do realize that tim took one of dick's old robin suits that was on display, not the jason one. right.

in year three batman #436, the pelude to a lonely place of dying, written by the man who wrote a lonely palce of dying, dick specifically goes into the batcave trophy and sees that it's been removed of any trace of jason:

(his bedroom has also been cleared out but this is about the trophy room in particular)

as it is, the jason case *does not yet exist* at this point in time & in his grief bruce has removed all traces of jason, leaving only dick's trophies.

when dick brings tim down to the batcave in batman #441, he stands in front of a case that has a robin costume, yes. this is in the trophy room, which was previously established as having no trace of jason at his time. the fact that dick stands in front of it to talk about how he can't go back to being robin with his reflection shown as him wearing the costume also implies this was a costume of dick's specifically.

dick is in trophy room, discussing how he can't return to being robin, thinking about the good old days surrounded by his past trophies he got with bruce. this is clearly cataloged to be an old uniform of his, especially given he's reflected to be wearing this specific one.

and then in the new titans #61, tim specifically says he got the costume from the case in the *trophy* room.

now you can argue that suit in a case = jason, especially given dick's anger, but this is specifically a suit in a trophy room case in. trophy room that is established as not currently contain any jason memorabilia & i was definitely implied to be dick's costume in particular. and ik dick & jason's costumes were basically the same but tim's robin costume in alpod also happens to be a dead on match dick's very first original robin costume in year three, the prelude story (batmam #437).

and *that* costume is far more likely to be in amongst dick's trophies. so no, tim didn't steal the costume of a dead kid from the memorial case. he did steal dick's very first original costume which was likely in a case on display with the rest of dick's adventure trophies, which would also probably give a reason for dick to be a little peeved.

and listen, retcons aside putting a memorial case in there (retcons aside bruce has destroyed the costume jason actually died in), it still doesn't make sense to have tim wearing a costume other than one of dick's because the whole point of tim's origin is wrapped up in dick's. tim becoming robin is linked to that night in the circus, tim's first robin costume has to be a costume that dick specifically wore. it's in the taking the picture together, janet telling tim he could be just like dick someday, in dick bringing tim down to look at his old robin costume while he says he can't go back to those times, looking at a reflection of him wearing the costume.

[vangbelsing]

Just gonna throw out my thoughts on spoilers below the cut in reference to THAT Veilguard news today

I genuinely believe this is actually a good thing. Hot take, I know. But you know what? I don't think Bioware could ever satisfy the desires of every player. I would much rather have my headcanons for my Hero of Fereldan than to watch them appear in another game COMPLETELY different than how they were in DAO. And, I don't mean from how I headcanon them, I mean from the way they were literally portrayed in that game.

Take a look at Hawke. Not how I played them in DA2. Now look and the Inquisitor. Bioware is already forcing them to have a certain outlook that could be completely opposed to how they were played. Again, not how they were headcanoned, but literally portrayed in game. With the choices Bioware gave.

Do y'all genuinely think that "did you vow to save or stop Solas?" is gonna cover the NUMEROUS ways you could build a relationship with him in DAI? Those personal bits that you were given to rp and shape your character, those things that were literally IN THAT GAME, will be treated as if they didn't matter in order for the team to write your character how they think is most interesting. And it might just be me, but having your character the way you want them is one of the most important parts of these games, so watching them be taken and made to be something unrecognizable even from the choices you had them make in the game itself is... Unappealing to me.

Am I happy the reactivity from past games has been chopped down to three choices? No. Do I wish there was more? Yes. But if condensed reactivity to choices made in the other games means there can be more reactivity for the choices I make in this one? Fine. It is 100% a compromise, but it's a compromise I'm personally willing to make.

So yes, ultimately, I can work with this. Baldurs Gate 3 canonized a great deal from the first two games, and for the people that started with BG3, that means nothing. But for me? Someone who played the first two games that spent hours shaping the narrative of the game and building my character? Watching none of that matter as they parade around Abel fucking Adrian as the Bhaalspawn was the single most enraging thing I've experienced in a game. So Dragon Age not referencing stuff out of respect for my choices feels like a win, even if I wish there was more reactivity to old choices. I promise you all, this could be so, so much worse. I've literally seen it happen. Baldurs Gate was the original Dragon Age. I can tell you right now that if you were presented with the options of having Bioware not referencing your choices or a canon white male Cousland hero of Fereldan, you would take the former.

And this definitely is not intended to tell you you can't be upset about this or to act as a shield between you and a corporation. I'll take this because I genuinely do not trust Bioware to handle the Hero of Fereldan. But I got to have the alternative in bg3, and this may not be great, but oh my god it is so much better by comparison. After the way that game handled the Bhaalspawn, Jaheira, Viconia, and God forbid Sarevok... Yah. I'll take this any day. Seriously. Google any of those characters and look what Larian did to them in bg3. I will take this over that any day.

[doveywovy]

tobiizu modern au in which the uchiha are a wealthy family that vacations every summer at a family beachhouse on a (Relatively) small island- and Tobirama drives the water taxi they hire to take them out to it every year.

the first time it happens, they're both only about 16. Izuna immediately hates it- and hates tobirama- because it makes him feel childish. Here he is, out on vacation with his family (lame) to go play in the sand (lame!) and maybe play in the waves (SOOOO lame, totally childish). and heres this teen the same age as him, not just spending the summer break working but specifically working alone, doing a difficult and responsible job like driving a boat! Izuna takes this as a personal affront to his manhood and spends the whole ride there and the whole ride back being absolutely insufferable to Tobirama and the rest of the family.

he spends the next summer working his own summer job (But something much fancier, like interning somewhere impressive) and the summer after that he spends at an intense sports camp. So the next time they see eachother, Izuna's 19 and- okay, well, he hasn't really matured. but his stance has changed to the viewpoint that HE'S clearly the winner here. Here he is, out on vacation with his family (Wealthy and impressive) to go relax in the sand (so wealthy and mature) and maybe swim in the waves (sooooo cool, totally mature and adult). Meanwhile Tobirama has to spend his summer working in a dingey boat serving the Uchiha and family like them! Since Izuna's won the competition they totally had going on, he can afford to be nicer to Tobirama. especially since hormones have kicked in and tobirama is unbearably fucking attractive to izuna. He spends the whole vacation having ridiculous daydreams about them running away together (fucking on the boat) living a life at sea together (fucking on a boat) and him showing off his better lifestyle to Tobirama (fucking on the beach.) He does exactly nothing about any of this except being mildly more polite to tobirama for the 47 total minutes they spend interacting.

The next three summers, however, he gets proactive. The Uchiha are a big family with a ton of stuff they need, and they always run through it quickly or realize they forgot something after they left. Someone has to go back to the mainland and get The Only Cereal Kagami Will Eat, or Shishui's Special Sunscreen (he has allergies to the rest), etc etc. In past years it's been one of the odd aunts or uncles, but now Izuna's taken it up as his personal mantel.

If anyone needs anything from the mainland, of course Izuna will make the trip out! No need to worry! He'll call up Tobirama's company and have the ride out within the hour, and he'll be back two hours after that. Sometimes he runs right out without bothering to change- Mikoto needs fresh lettuce for the dinner salad, there's no time for him to change out of his trunks or put a shirt on! Everyone's glad he's willing to make the sacrifice for the family, nobody wants to do it themselves- and so nobody points out that unlike past triptakers, Izuna never double checks if anyone else needs anything before he goes. It means he has to make a lot more trips, individual ones for Sasuke's fresh tomatoes and Itachi's eyecream and Obito's glasses cleaner, instead of all at once like he could if he just asked before going. But they're a wealthy family, they can afford it, and he's getting it all in the end, isn't he?

Now that izuna's upped his time with Tobirama from 24-ish minutes to the island and 24-ish minutes back home (shared with his entire family), to around an hour one-on-one every other day the entire two months he's out there...things change.

For one, the crush gets more genuine. He's talking to Tobirama constantly and gets to know him as a person and unfortunately he really likes him as a person. The fantasies get more focused on getting to actually date Tobirama in a normal person way, not whisking a mermaid tobirama off for beach-sex.

Tobirama, meanwhile, is finally starting to like this guy. He hasn't thought about izuna nearly as much as Izuna's thought about him. He hated him as a teen for being annoying and bratty, thought he was hot and annoying a few years ago, and now he's a nice sociable guy who lets him talk about boats for twenty minutes straight. Who's extremely hot and constantly shirtless, for some reason? Which Tobirama's not mad at.

so- izuna's fumbling his way towards something, but cautious not to fuck it up because he genuinely wants something serious with Tobirama and that makes him much more worried about ruining it. and then one day madara- well, the thing is.

To madara, izuna will always be somewhat five years old. He can't imagine him any other way. So he assumes, when Izuna constantly spends his summer vacations on the water taxi with tobirama- he doesn't consider it could be about tobirama. He thinks it's about the boat! Especially since Izuna can hold full conversations about boats with people now (Because of his conversations with tobirama about them, but Madara doesn't know that) and takes photos of boats (For tobirama)....All of this to say, Madara decides Izuna must want a boat.

So madara offers to help him buy one. Nothing too fancy (to the Uchiha perspective), but something nice.

Izuna immediately remembers the conversations he's had with Tobirama about his dream boat. He remembers his ridiculous fantasies at 18 years old about whisking Tobirama away for a life on the open sea. and he imagines, for half a second, trying to explain to madara that he doesn't want a boat despite seeming to be obsessed with them because he's obsessed with a guy instead. He is not having that conversation.

He's buying a boat. He's buying Tobirama a boat. Then he just....has to figure out how to give it to him.

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hiii! Do you think Harry stopped growing at 17? If he was as tall as James in DH I would imagine he was taller than his father. I have three brothers and my family is full of male cousins and they all had growth spurts after 17. I could see him growing another couple of inches after the war. His mind and body is finally at peace after 16 years. I always hc him to be 6’0-6’2 at the age of 21.

As far as Harry being scrawny… aren’t most teenage boys? My brothers were into sports and didn’t get into the gym until they were done with high school. With the profession he’s in I would assume fitness would be a requirement for the role. Yeah, you have a wand but what if it breaks or you lose it? He has a huge target on his back having defeated the darkest wizard of all time, and I can’t imagine him not learning how to physically defend himself and his loved ones. I don’t see him a huge buff gym junky, but I do see him as someone who has a lean athletic figure and someone who concentrates more on leg day than arm day. I think going to the gym would be an escape for him and help him decompress. I know the hp world prefer a shorter skinny hero (probably because of Daniel Radcliffe) who looks like an underdog, however every underdog grows up and barely anyone has the same physique as their teenage self.

Honestly, all this differs a lot with genetics. Harry's growth spurts in the books reminds me of my younger brother. Like, my brother was like 5'2 at 15, then, in like, one month near his 16th birthday, he grew to 5'10 and when he was around 19 he grew again by two inches. So, Harry could definitely still grow taller, but we don't really have a way to know.

Like, men can still grow in height until their late 20s, and it's possible James didn't even finish his growth since he died at 21, so he might've grown even taller if he survived to 25. Like, that's possible. I just don't really have evidence for or against besides saying, yes, it's possible, but I wouldn't call it likely since it's highly individual and based on genes. Like, I know guys who stopped growing at 16 and have been stuck at the same height since then. I also know guys who are 25 and still grow taller. It's the magic of genetics.

Muscle mass, physique, and the ability to gain weight are also heavily dependent on genetics and age. Men in their teens and early 20s usually have a much higher metabolic rate, which keeps them lean regardless of how much they eat (again, genetics play a big role here and this isn't true for everyone). Physical activity like Quidditch, would make the already fast metabolism faster. This naturally fast metabolism, combined with certain genetic makeup, can leave you looking lean regardless of how much you go to the gym as well. Some men need to reach their mid-20s before they can actually start gaining the weight necessary to appear buff.

I think Harry would look less lean as he got older. Like, I can hardly imagine a Harry in his mid to late 30s being as lean as 16-year-old Harry. I think his physique will change as he grows, as happens to most people. But I agree with you I don't see him as a super buff gym dude at any point in his life. He's always on the leaner side in my head, but this is all in headcanon territory since it isn't covered by the books.

I would like to add that all the super short and scrawny descriptions of Harry come from the first 4 books when these descriptions are correct. In book 6 Harry is thin, but no one describes him as a scrawny boy with knobbly knees past book 4. Not even he himself. So I definitely see Harry of the final 3 books as more lean than scrawny.

And yeah, you're right about Radcliffe messing up everyone's mental image of Harry, both in looks and personality. It's one of the things that bother me most about the movies. And, everyone can headcanon whatever they want, but I personally don't like short Harry (when he's older, when he's 14, make him short). It's not his canon character and when writers write him short, it's sometimes accompanied by him being written as too passive and meek for my liking because Harry James Potter is not passive or meek. (Radcliffe Harry in the movies is much more passive, hence the skewed mental image I mentioned, but I digress).

Besides, while malnourishment and food intake could affect one's growth, people tend to overlook the 6 years of Hogwarts and Molly's food which would be a huge boost during his puberty years in which he's having most of his growth. Additionally, some people's food intake matters less to their physical development than others — again, I can't stress enough how specific genetic makeup is super important in all this discussion.

TL;DR

Harry might grow taller to be 6' or 6'2. We don't have any evidence for or against really, so it's up to your preference on what you want to headcanon. But it's definitely super possible. If Lily was taller than the average it would even be likley (but I couldn't find any notes on Lily's or Petunia's height). In the books, he is very lean, and it's a combination of a lot of different factors working together: his lifestyle, genetic makeup, and yes, being a teenage boy with the fast metabolism that comes with it. As Harry grows up, he'd probably want to stay fit, but to what degree is also in personal headcanon territory (I personally don't like him becoming an Auror, but that's my preferred headcanon. I still see him staying pretty fit out of paranoia, sort of. I mean, he spent all his teenage years with a Damocles sword over his head. He literally died. I think he's allowed to be a little hypervigilant after that. I mean, he already is, but you get the point).

[authorautumnbanks]

Accidentally Dating (14)

Summary: A series of accidental dates and meetings between Kagome and Satoru over the years.

Pairing: KagomexGojo

Series Master list

Kagome frowns as she looks down at Satoru. He's still sleeping? She nudges him with her foot. "Get up already." It's a little past 9 a.m. and it's not like Satoru to sleep in at all.

For whatever reason, he didn't want to sleep in her room last night, so they watched movies and fell asleep in the living room.

Satoru groans and spikes a hand through his white hair as he sits up. The cover falls and pools around his lap. "How long was I out?"

Has his eyes always been that blue?

"Long enough. Yesterday must have really taken a toll." She holds out the coffee mug for him, made just how he likes it. A lot of sugar and a dash of coffee. "I can make breakfast."

"Nah, let's go somewhere." Satoru's fingers brush against hers as he takes the mug. He peers at her as he takes a sip. "Spend the whole day together."

Her stomach flutters. "Well, come on then."

Satoru grimaces. "I can't, right now. Give me a moment."

Kagome rolls her eyes. "Stop being so dramatic."

"No, I can't." Satoru's cheeks flush pink and he's no longer making eye contact with her.

Okay, now he's worrying her. Why can't he get up? Kagomescrutinizes him and then bites back the gasp.

Oh. OH!

"Uhhh, just get up when you can. I'm gonna finish getting ready." She backs away. "Glad you can get it up. I mean—" she squeezes her eyes shut and then runs out of the living room. Oh Kami, she did not just say that! When she gets to her room, she slams the door shut and slides down on the floor with her back to the door. "I actually said that," she says, voice muffled by her palms.

Knock. Knock.

"You good?" Satoru asks.

"Peachy! I'll be ready in a bit." Kagome worries her bottom lip between her teeth. Her face is burning up. Nope. Nope. Nope. She is not going to think about Satoru's morning—Kagome slaps her forehead.

This isn't happening.

Three hours later, and she's still thinking about it. At this rate, her face is going to burst into a ball of flames because every time she looks at him, she thinks of this morning, and thinking about this morning means thinking about how the cover pooled around his waist and the tent was so large.

"Are you too hot?" Satoru leans over and presses his forehead to hers. "We can go back."

"I'm fine!" She takes a step back, but Satoru wraps an arm around her waist. Get a grip, Kagome! It's just Satoru. "I'm fine," she reiterates. "We don't need to go back. Besides, we came all this way. I want to know what's in Enoshima."

Satoru presses his lips together, but he gives her a little space. "The Ryuren Bell of Love is here." His cheeks stain pink. "It's a... legend has it if we ring the bell and put a padlock on the fence, then we'll be bonded together forever."

"Oh." Kagome ducks her head. Great, now she's flustered. "So how did the legend come to be?" She swallows as she looks up. His arm is still around her waist and his touch is hot. He smells nice, too.

"A five-headed dragon fell in love with a maiden on this island and reformed his ways to be with her, so I guess the legend is if an evil dragon can change his ways forever for a maiden, then everyone else who stands on the hill will be blessed too." He bites his lip. "When we were younger, I always referred to you as my maiden, at least to myself, since you grew up on a shrine..."

"Spit it out." She pokes him in the side.

"Well, they said I was a god, and I figured every god needs their own maiden." He smiles so hard, his dimples show. His white button-down shirt is freshly pressed. Paired with his shades and the bracelet she got him years ago, Satoru could pass for a model. The only casualness of his outfit is his jeans.

"You thought of me as yours even back then?" She palms her throat, lightly flexing her fingers over the pulse. Despite wearing a simple brown fitted dress with straps, her body is burning up. The denim jacket wrapped around her waist may have been overkill. If Satoru keeps being sweet like this, she will combust.

"I..." Satoru turns his head. The tips of his ears are as pink as his cheeks. "Yeah, I guess I did." They stand there for a moment, neither saying a word, but his fingers brushing her side say what they can't say.

"Let's go ring this bell," Kagome says, taking charge of the situation. She is the oldest one after all, and she swears steam is coming from his head. Guess she isn't the only one overheating. He should have worn short sleeves. "Thanks for breakfast."

"You thanked me already," Satoru says with a huff. "And that was a while ago."

"Yeah, well, I'm grateful for the food."

"After this, we're going shopping, or we could do something else."

"I don't need any more clothes, but we could do an arcade and then dinner." She wraps her arms around him as they head up the steps. "I like this. The scenery." Kagome gasps.

"What?" Satoru stiffens and looks around.

"We have to go to fox island sometime."

Satoru sighs. "I thought something happened. Not today since we don't have time, but I will take you." His lips curve up. "You're already planning our next date."

"I'm about to perform a ceremony that will bind us together forever."

"That's—this is different!" He splutters. "And I mean, it's not like it will actually do that, not that I'm against it, because there is no one but you for me, and I'm not trying to—"

Kagome presses her fingers to his lips. "Breathe. It's fine. Really." She moves her fingers, but he grabs her hand and places it back on his lips.

Oh boy.

"Well, aren't you two a pair of lovebirds," a woman says. Her dark brown eyes are old, much older than how she looks. Her hair is just as dark and goes all the way to her knees. She looks eternal like with the pink kimono and the pattern white flowers. "Come with me. I have just the padlock for you two." She turns with an expectation they will follow.

There's a stiffness to Satoru that wasn't there before. An uneasiness. Kagome reaches for his hand and pulls him along. He must still be shaken up about his near death the other day.

Truthfully, she wakes sometimes in the middle of the night with a scream stuck in her throat and her hands clawing at her chest, trying to keep her soul contained. A secret she's never told him and probably never will because then Satoru will try to fix it somehow when there is no fixing it.

Not really.

"Come on, Toru."

"I don't trust her," he whispers, giving her hand a squeeze. "Something is iffy with her energy."

"It's warm," Kagome says simply because that's all that matters to her. The woman's energy is warm and friendly. "Besides, we came all this way. Let's make it official."

"Kagome!"

"What?"

"You can't say things like that."

Oh, this is rich. He can go around yelling that they are married for years, but the moment she alludes to it, he gets flustered? Kagome rolls her eyes, making a big show of it just to mess with him.

The pretty lady leads them to a shop, a little off from the others where the other citizens are gathered. Satoru is tense as they wait near the door. If the lady notices, she doesn't comment. Instead, she walks around the counter and pulls a box from underneath.

"Here we are." She smiles at them as she removes the top. "The padlocks in the main shop are far too simple for you, too." She pulls out the padlock that is huge in her hands and places it down on the counter.

"What is this?" Satoru questions as he moves closer.

"A padlock," the woman says slowly.

Kagome squints at Satoru and sighs. "I'm sorry. It's just this padlock is special." She gives the lady a meaningful look.

"Are you matchmaking again?" A gruff voice asks, followed by heavy footsteps. The man is tall with dark hair pulled into a high ponytail and tanned skin. His eyes are a light brown, almost honey in color. His kimono is dark blue and simple.

"No, they are already together." The lady sniffs. "But the six eyes is wary."

Kagome places a hand on Satoru's chest before he picks a fight. "Excuse me, but who are you?"

"Oh! Benzaiten." She holds out an arm to the man. "And this is Ryuren."

"You're named after the dragon and the maiden?" Satoru's tone seeps with skepticism.

"No," Kagome answers. "He is the dragon." She looks at the woman. "So that's why your energy is so warm. You're the real deal. Not like Kaguya."

"Who?"

"The Shikon priestess is astute. Naturally, as you have my blessing." Benzaiten laughs, and the sound is like bells ringing on a crisp fall day. "Here, take this. Engrave your names on the padlock and ring the bell."

"You want to give that one to them?" Ryuren scratches his head and yawns.

"One lifetime is not enough. May your love transcend time and space itself."

Satoru picks up the padlock and curls his fingers around it. "What do we owe you?"

"Nothing. Seeing you two is enough for me." She shoos them away.

"W-wait," Kagome says. "Do you mind taking a picture of us?"

"Of course!" Benzaiten pulls Ryuren behind her. The sight of the tall man... demon with broad shoulders and a permanent scowl on his face is something. "Oh! Grab the camera. The one with the instant film."

"Fine," Ryuren sighs. "But if you try anything..." his nostrils flare and puffs of fire blow out.

"Don't start it and it won't be none," Satoru says flippantly. Kagome rolls her eyes and pulls Satoru along before the island becomes a battle zone. He's picking fights when they should be making allies. There's so much she wants to ask them.

How is he here?

Are there other demons?

What about maidens? Are there other celestial maidens?

"Kagome," Satoru says, pulling her out of her musings. "Ya gonna write your name?"

Oh. They're at the fence already?

She takes the sharpie and writes her name just under his and just to mess with him, she draws a heart in between their names.

"How's that?"

Satoru's face is as red as the padlock. Seriously, she's never going to stop teasing him now.

"Let's go ring the bell now!" He chokes out.

"We have to attach it to the fence first," Kagome teases.

"I know that." Satoru pouts as he attaches the padlock to the fence. He pulls out his phone and snaps a picture of it. "Okay, now let's go make it official."

Something tugs on Kagome. On her soul. She turns back to the fence. "Sorry, hold on." The pull is more incessant now. Pleading. In front of the padlock, she clasps her hands together and prays.

A happy life for her and Satoru. She prays that neither time nor space separates them. No matter if she is in the past and he in the present, they will always find their way back to one another. That not even space, and all its convoluted mess, can keep them apart. In this life and in the next, they are bound.

"Ready now," she says, opening her eyes.

When they get to the bell, Benzaiten and Ryuren are already there. The line is nonexistent and Kagome suspects Ryuren has something to do with that. Satoru holds out his phone to Ryuren and takes a step back.

Guess that's some kind of truce?

Kagome bites her lip and rubs her hands down her sides. Her palms are sweaty and her heart rate is not cooperating. It's just Satoru! It's just ringing a bell.

And yet.

This feels like the start of forever and with the prayer she just prayed replaying in the back of her mind, this feels like something bigger than them.

"Let's do it together," Satoru says, placing his hand over hers. The bell rings out. Kagome stares at it and then laughs. The nervousness fades away as the bell slows down. "Hey Kagome," Satoru says, dropping his hand to cup her face. "Can I kiss you?"

Her laugh dies in her throat as the nervousness seeps back in with a vengeance. A kiss? She nods, not trusting her vocal cords to cooperate. Satoru hesitates for a brief moment. He's just as nervous as her. He brushes his lips against hers and maybe it is because it is her first kiss or maybe it is because it is simply Satoru, but she swears it is the kiss to end all others. She throws her arms around his neck and leans forward on the tip of her toes, desperate to get closer.

Distantly she hears Ryuren groaning about why he has to take a picture of this.

When Satoru pulls away and flicks his gaze back to her lips as if he can't get enough, Kagome's legs wobble.

Oh... her eyes widen. She's in love with him.

***

A/N: Where did September go? Swear the month just started. Didn't initially plan to bring Ryuren and Benzaiten into the story, but they insisted and here we are.

"Is Syouma delegating his work to Ryu?" - Yep, and Ryu loves the trust that Syouma has in him. Though he is a bit gruff about it.

"What if Kagome is a compatible star vessel replacement?" - Higher-ups can't demand that of Kagome if she were (she isn't) Yuki was never forced to do it. My mind is blanking but I think you also have to be invited by Tengen to reach her.

Next update will be the Multiverse chapter. No date in mind because I think I'm getting sick, but hoping to update later this week. And then working on Thousand Days. The chapter I was working on didn't feel right, which means the guys are going to be stuck together for a while longer lol. They haven't suffered enough.

Take care! Get plenty of rest and make sure to drink plenty of water. Stock up on some soups too (though chicken noodle soup from scratch is the best). Have an awesome week!

[lost-estradiographer]

I

know that voting for the status quo sucks.

To say it "sucks" massively understates the exact amount of suffering that exists under the status quo, an amount that I acknowledge I am too privileged to ever fully grasp.

I cannot magically provide some viable third-party candidate just barely a month before the election. I cannot solve Israel/Palestine Conflict that has haunted the world for over 70 years. I am a 29-year old transgender woman working her way through her own mental illnesses, trauma, and an undergraduate degree. I was never going to be the one to solve anything here.

All I can tell you is that regardless of whether you vote or not, there will be a presidential election. It's going to be a shitshow, regardless. Whether you vote or not, there will be a different president in January. Voting for the status quo may not be directly in your interests.

We had four years of Trump and we are still trying to unfuck ourselves from that. The beginning of my antagonistic relationship with the government was protesting in the streets of DC under his administration. I've fled from the Metro PD. I've put on a change of clothes and slipped out the back door of a gay sports bar.

Fucking vote.

Fucking vote.

Fucking vote.

Honestly, I

I don't want to see this voter apathy shit anymore.

People are going to keep dying under any president. Any president can, and probably wil, be morally culpable for the deaths of innocent people, both in the country and abroad. Carter might be the last president we had that wasn't overtly a war criminal and we still had foreign civilians killed by U.S. military involvement under the Carter admin.

I'm torn between asking you to block me, or asking you to message me, if you're taking the route of voter apathy. I'll tell you right away, here and now, that I probably don't have a solution to whatever problem is keeping you from voting for Harris. I can't even solve my own problems right, tbh. The government isn't really here for me, either.

But there isn't going to be some sort of miraculous revolution that results in The Ending Where Everyone Lives. If there's a revolution, then supply chains will falter and children and the infirm will die of preventable diseases and infections and complications in hospitals that would have otherwise been able to easily deal with such things. That's what happens in a revolution. I'm after the long-term idea where Humanity as a species lives. I'm after the route where we don't have an ending, we keep going.

Fucking vote, because exactly one of the two leading presidential candidates believes climate change is real, and it is the single greatest threat to all life on earth. We have spent the past 250 years, not just playing God with the environment, but actively creating an ecological niche in which future generations of humanity must continue to play God with the environment, dragging it back to a healthy place drop by drop, inch by inch, a degree at a time.

Or, I mean, don't vote. Either way, we'll all die at some point. Perhaps some of us will be lucky enough to die standing by our principles.

Those lucky few will become soil one day, just like I will.

I am begging you on my hands and knees to fucking vote, though, because our options are The Status Quo vs. Worse. That's

That's it.

There is no door number three right now. Our system, our flawed and broken and imbalanced and unjust system, does not accommodate for a third door. Whether you vote or not, you will be dragged through either Door 1 or Door 2 with all of humanity, as we whirl through the cosmos upon our tiny little speck of dust. The only other legitimate option is to allow oneself to become trampled; to become soil early. I don't say legitimate to give this option legitimacy, but to make clear that again, there is no door three. Door three is a casket. A one-way bed.

I didn't vote in 2016, and I'm hoping that you'll vote for the status quo this time, because that's the route that gives me the best odds of having a long and healthy life to regret my failure through inaction.

Just please

Fucking vote.

Or again, if you're taking the apathy route, probably just save me the time of blocking you, because you're not going to magically pull a viable third-party candidate out of your pocket less than six weeks before the election.

[fictionadventurer]

Top five time travel movies/books! :D

See, the trouble is that while I love time travel as a concept, I haven't actually explored the genre that much. I haven't watched/read most of the time travel stories out there, sometimes because I just haven't gotten to it, other times because I'm very picky about content, other times because most of the time travel stories I run across are either "we're a bureaucratic agency dedicated to policing time travel" or "oh, no, what if we change history?" or "I fell in love with a hunky Highlander", none of which are the parts of time travel stories that interest me.

The most accurate version of this list would be a list of Doctor Who episodes (and maybe some Star Trek ones), but you specified movies and books, which is going to make this a much more difficult list to create.

The Day of the Doctor: Haha, I cheated, because Day of the Doctor was released in theaters, which makes it a movie! (So I can use it as a stand-in for all the Doctor Who episodes that are my favorite time travel stories). Thankfully, it's a fantastic time travel story and one of my favorites. It's a genius blend of both "stable timeline" and "changeable timeline" mechanics. Three different interweaving timelines. References to A Christmas Carol. Changing major events in the show's past without changing the timeline that resulted from them at all. A rejection once and for all of the "ends justify the means" mindset that had lingered over the reboot for too long. A masterpiece.

A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens: It's the classic Christmas story for a reason--and one of those reasons is the time travel. Going with Scrooge across decades of his own life and watching him undergo character development from that is a great use of time travel. (And there happens to be a great Doctor Who version, too!)

Star Trek: First Contact: It's fun when you get characters traveling from the future to a different time that's also in the future. Love all the worldbuilding details of these characters interacting with their past/our fictional future, and it's a pretty good story.

Shadowhand by Anne Elisabeth Stengl: The Tales of Goldstone Wood series has a structure unlike any I've ever seen in fantasy, and this book is the reason. The first three books in the series are in chronological order. The next two books are prequels that take place like a thousand years earlier. This book, the sixth, involves characters from the later time period time-traveling to meet characters from the earlier time period, and getting swept up in a legend that they've known since childhood. I remember very little about the book beyond that, but it's such a cool concept (with an unforgettable ending moment) that I have to put it on the list.

Love Strikes Twice: It's one of the very rare Hallmark movies that's actually a decent movie by normal movie standards, so I have to give it credit. Instead of the usual boring time travel plot of "oh no, what if we change history?", we get someone who's trying to change history, who does change history, and it's a good thing. The time travel mechanics surrounding that make no sense, but who cares? It's a fun story with an engaging cast, legitimately funny jokes, a sweet romance, and a solid plot.

[audzss]

Thin Line ~4~ Finale.

Summary: After waking up to an empty bed, Y/n has had enough. If Rafe wants to act like nothing had ever happened, two can play that game.

Thin Line Masterlist

Word Count: 1,727

Warnings: explicit nsfw, p in v, oral (fem receiving), technically dacryphilia?? idk, use of mama (non-sexual).

Thin Line

When Y/n wakes up to an empty bed, she feels more confused than hurt. The last few nights Rafe had been staying until she had woken up, or even waking her up before he left. It was odd, but she brushed it off, getting out of bed to get ready for the school day.

-

When she walked through the halls after her third period, she had finally spotted him. He was leaning against a wall, his friends gathered around him. Her smile widened as she let out a breath of relief, almost thinking that he hadn't gone to school today.

She approached him happily, ignoring the nervousness she felt from being around his friends. "Hi Raf-"

"Why are you talking to me?"

Her smile drops immediately, eyes widening as she stared into his eyes. He was just smirking at her, his eyebrows furrowed, almost looking confused. Y/n took a few moments to gather herself enough to speak, "Are you fucking serious?" She spat out, watching his eyes widen.

He was scared, she noticed, scared that she would blurt out what had been going on in front of his friends. Was he embarrassed of her? Y/n's heart panged, her eyes glossing over with tears.

"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone." She mumbles, finally ripping her gaze off of him. She walked away slowly, tears streaming down her red cheeks. She didn't know how to feel, embarrassed? Used? Heartbroken? She came to the conclusion that she felt all three.

She walked past her fourth period to the exit of the school, she couldn't stand being in the same building as him for another moment.

-

It took her hours to finally stop crying, to finally decide that she just needed to get over him. It was over, there was nothing she could do about it, and there was no use to cry over it.

She didn't bother making herself look good this night, putting on a hoodie and some sweatpants instead of her satin pajamas, leaving her hair in a messy bun. She didn't expect him to show up, after all that.

But when she heard that knock on her window, her heart started to race. She snapped her head over at the glass, seeing his hair that was so unmistakably him. She got out of her bed, slamming her pint of ice-cream down onto her bedside table.

Marching over to the window, she ripped it open, not even bothering being quiet tonight.

He had the audacity to smile at her.

She snarled at him, "What the fuck are you doing here?"

And he looked confused! She could almost laugh at him, watching the gears turn in his head. "What are you talking about, Y/n?" She scoffed, smiling but without the usual softness that she once carried. "You have to be joking, Rafe, you cannot be serious." She scoffed, watching him put his fingers on the windowsill.

In that moment, the only thing she could think about was slamming the window back down onto his fingers.

"Is this about what happened at school? It's really not that big of a deal-" She couldn't believe the words coming out of his mouth, not that big of a deal?

"We fucked Rafe! What do you mean not that big of a deal?!" She yelled, watching his face turn red, his face softening. "I'm sorry.. I didn't know it meant that much too you.." He mumbled, his hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck.

"Are you kidding me? You said you liked me, how could it not mean that much too me." Tears started to flood her eyes again, she really didn't want to start crying again, but Rafe just had to go and ruin everything she had going for her.

He stayed silent, looking everywhere but at her, nervously biting at his nails all at the same time. Y/n just scoffed, watching him. "Yeah, that's what I thought." She mumbled, moving the window down to close it.

"Wait!" Rafe yelled, catching the bottom of the glass before she could fully shut it. "Please I.. I'm sorry.. look, let's just talk and-" Y/n rolled her eyes, quickly interrupting him.

"You've done enough talking Rafe, just leave." She mumbles, hurt etching her voice. She watches Rafe's eyes widen, almost looking like he was about go into a full blown panic.

"No- No, please.." He hushes out, his gorgeous blue eyes beginning to water, he reaches through the window to grab Y/n's hand, only for her to yank it out of his grasp. "Go home Rafe." She says quietly.

"Please- Please Mama, I'll do anything.." He says, his voice cracking as tears flow freely down his cheeks, his hands clasp together at the back of his head as he paces, but Y/n doesn't say anything, just watching him break down.

He lets out a choked sob, before setting his head down onto the hard concrete of the windowsill, hiding his face from watching eyes. Y/n can feel her resolve cracking by the minute.

"I swear.. I'll do anything- I- I'll tell everyone everything if I have to I just.. I can't lose you.. I'm s-sorry.." He mumbles with his head down in between choked out sobs. Y/n doesn't know if she'll regret this or not.

"Just.. come in.." She mumbles, moving out of the way to allow room for Rafe to climb in. He snaps his head up, his cheeks wet with tears. He nods, sniffling as he climbs his way up through the window.

Once he gets his feet on the carpeted ground, Y/n shuts the window behind him, not daring to look at him. He's still crying, just watching her, trying to get a read on what he could do to make things better instead of fucking everything up again.

He wipes his face with his jacket sleeve, before taking a step closer to her. He places his hand under her chin, gently guiding her head up to look at him. She complies, but still keeps her eyes off of him, looking at the wall to her side.

"Look at me.. please.." He asks shyly. Y/n sighs, closing her eyes, before decidedly giving in, looking deeply into his eyes. He swallows, bringing his free hand up to wipe the tears off of her cheek.

"I'm sorry Mama.." He mumbles, noticing the way her face softens. He gently smiles, before leaning down and pressing his lips against hers in a soft kiss. He holds it there before a second, before parting them, relishing the way her lips stay parted.

He leans down once again, but this time to press a kiss to her cheek, then her jawline, then her neck. "Lemme make it up too you.." He whispers into her ear.

-

Y/n doesn't really know how she ended up with the man who she was trying to get over just a few hours ago in between her legs, eating her out like a man starved.

She whined softly, bucking her hips up into his face. "Faster.." She whispered, relishing in the way he immediately complied, his thumb rubbing circles into her clit picking up its pace, his tongue inside her following suit.

She moaned a little louder, her hand that was in his hair tightening and pulling, the groan he lets out just increasing her pleasure. His one free hand is entangled with hers, squeezing her tightly.

"M' sorry.." He mumbles into her pussy, making her moan a little louder. He's grinding his hips into the mattress, aching in his sweatpants, but he couldn't be bothered by his own pleasure right now, his focus was on her, he wanted her to see stars.

"Rafe- C'mere.." She panted out, and Rafe was immediately hovering above her, his chin dripping with her arousal as he licked his lips, acting as if she was the best tasting desert in the world.

"What do you want, Mama?" He mumbles, his thumb still rubbing circles into her clit, making it hard for her to get the words out. "Want you- Want you to fuck me.." She says in between pants, looking at him with wanting eyes.

"Course'.." He says, sitting up to pull his sweatpants and boxers down. She whines at the loss of contact, but continues to watch him. He spits in his hand, stroking himself a few times before lining himself up, looking back at her.

She nods, both of them gasping as he pushes into her. "Fuck.. y'feel so good.." He all but whines, his eyes fluttering shut as he bottoms out. Once he starts to move, neither of them can find it in themselves to keep quiet, Y/n's nails drawing angry red lines on Rafe's back.

Rafe whimpers, dropping his head into the crook of her neck as she moans into his ear, "M' so sorry Mama.." He whispers, his eyes shutting as he continues his rough thrusts. She takes one of her hands off of his back to roughly grab at his hair, listening to him hiss and whine at the pain.

He finally picks up his head to look at her, tears flowing down his cheeks in either pleasure or guilt, Y/n doesn't know, but what she does know, is that he looks so fucking good when he cry's, his tears only driving her closer to her climax.

"M'close.. are you..?" He mumbles out between low groans and moans. She nods her head, causing him to lower a hand down in between them, pressing two fingers against her clit, moving them in circles to help her along.

His thrusts start to get sloppier, her moans getting louder, until they both reach their finish. Rafe letting out a low, drawn out groan, Y/n letting out a gasp, then going silent for a second, before a loud Moan that Rafe has to cover her mouth for.

And as they both sit there, soaking up the after shocks, Rafe only has one last question to ask her.

"D'you forgive me?"

Y/n lets out a deep sigh, her hand coming up to play with his hair.

"I don't know, you might have to prove to me that your sorry a few more times."

They both burst out laughing, hands wrapping around each other in a loving embrace.

End Note: Anddd thats it, hope you guys enjoyed it, im working on a few more projects atm :) also some man called me mama the other day now i cant stop thinking about rafe saying it so thats where that came from, anyways hopefully my try at actual nsfw wasn't too bad, also sorry for any typos or grammar mistakes!! again, was super late when i wrote this and again, i don't feel like really reading it over

[luckydicekirby]

would love any director's commentary you may have on The Only True Thing if slightly older fics are on the table here bc lowkey it changed my brain chemistry forever. I read it on a whim like four years ago at 1 in the morning and ever since then I've been hooked on making all my fav pairings miserable for no reason. this sounds like sarcasm but I'm being completely sincere the schadenfreude is exquisite

okay first of all I’m SO glad to hear this because making your favs miserable is I think one of the most rewarding activities on this earth so I’m really glad I could help share that joy. thanks also to sylvain for just making it so easy. anyway, here’s some assorted thoughts, hopefully some of which are edifying!

(the only true thing for reference for anyone playing along at home.)

this fic affectionately named the darkling au due to this tweet which I feel like I should put in a hall of fame someday. anyway this entire thread showcases the origin of this fic which was me catie and lily bullying each other on twitter about sylvix, a pastime left behind in 2019 which i really miss.

the thing that really first made me Crazy Cuckoo about sylvain is his B support with Byleth--I'm obsessed with that moment where he very coldly threatens to kill you and then laughs it off, and that was pretty much the jumping off point for Sylvain's characterization in this au--what if he was like that all the time? answer: it would be bad, but also pretty sexy!

One thing I miss about writing for fe3h is the hero’s relics were sooo nice as like. shortcut symbolism. the lance of ruin comes preloaded for you! It’s familial cycles of violence! Easy! and there's a mechanic for it breaking ALSO preloaded into the game mechanics! I wrote like three versions of the ending and the lance getting busted moved around a bit--it originally happened a little earlier.

For a while when I was still femblempilled I was idly thinking about two sequels to this—a sylvain pov sequel about the war, which would have been fun but also Yikes, and then epistolary dorothea/ingrid ideological divorce fic. sorry to dorothea and ingrid who really get the short end of the stick in this universe.

oh there's a playlist. I can’t claim to have put a ton of thought into it it’s just all my fav bad ya boyfriend songs <3 actually dead girl walking reprise is like. yeah that's the fic.

ANYWAY. I feel like a lot of my commentary on this has been washed away by the sea (the passage of time) so a few extras. I apparently wrote like 400 words of sylvain POV of the training yard scene also? Last edited September 26th 2019, here you go:

Felix has always been smaller him, ever since they were kids. Still is these days, to Sylvain’s delight. He wondered about it plenty, these past two years--maybe Felix had a growth spurt. Maybe he caught up to Dimitri. Maybe Sylvain would meet him at the monastery and they’d see eye to eye. Of course they don’t. Felix is a head shorter than him, and he’ll never see things the way Sylvain does. Still. Sylvain thought about it. He’s had a lot of time to think about Felix since the last time he saw him, since Felix ran away. Still a crybaby at heart, no matter how sure he was he’d grown out of it. Not much has changed, Sylvain figures. Felix might have everyone else fooled with that delightfully sharp-edged exterior of his--a pretty decent feint, Sylvian should know--but Felix can’t hide from him. Sylvain sees him down to the bone. The two of them are a matched set: liars at heart.  Like right now. Felix is trying so hard not to cry, his back to the wall of the training yard, his grip tight around the wood of his training sword like he’s actually going to use it. Sylvain hopes he will. He hasn’t gotten to see Felix fight yet, really fight. He bets he’s gotten better. He bets he’s elegant and controlled—maybe less so with Sylvain, and wouldn’t that be nice? That’s how it goes sometimes, when Sylvain dreams about their last day together. Felix’s sword at his throat, biting and cold, ending all this before it began. It would have saved everyone a lot of trouble. Sylvain wouldn’t have had to spend such an awfully long time missing him.  He bets Felix could make him hurt. Nothing seems to do that anymore, except for thoughts of Felix, the ones he can never stop worrying at like a bruise.  Sylvain doesn’t want much these days, and maybe that’s why it’s so hard: he wants Felix in a way that aches, delirious and unstoppable. It doesn’t matter so much how. Felix is welcome to cut him open or kiss him quiet or anything in between. As long as he never stops looking at Sylvain like he is now, hateful and just on the edge of tears, so clearly focused on nothing else. As long as Sylvain can have that, the rest doesn’t matter.  That’s love, Sylvain figures; the cheerful facade he gives the girls is nothing. He forgets about a new one every week. But Felix? He’ll be dead someday, and Felix will still have a grip on his heart, as tight as he’s holding his sword and just as dangerous.

and what exists of the sylvain POV sequel I never wrote:

Felix looks like shit. Of course he’s also beautiful. He’s radiant, for all that his hair’s a mess and his face is drawn and he’s got the kind of dark circles that only come from weeks and weeks of exhaustion. He’s Felix, right? He can’t be anything else. “You look like shit,” Sylvain tells him, because honesty is what Felix thinks he wants from him. He hasn’t seen Felix in six moons, but that probably hasn’t changed. “What are you doing here?” Felix asks. His horse stamps her feet and shakes her head, moving uneasily under him. Felix has never been a good rider. It’s clear he doesn’t appreciate his mare, and she doesn’t appreciate him. Sylvain wonders how long Felix has been making his way across Faerghus like this. He wonders if he stole the horse. It’s awful not to know. “Looking for you,” Sylvain says. “They say you’re searching for the king.” Felix never could stop himself from chasing ghosts. Sylvain hates that about him. It’s just as unfair as everything else: it’s the only reason Sylvain is still here, after all.  “I am. And you should be defending Gautier territory.” “Got a message from your father,” Sylvain lies. He slides off his horse, patting her flank. Felix, clumsily, does the same. “He wants you to come home.” That part’s probably true.  Felix scoffs. “My old man can send all the messages he wants. I’m going to find the boar.” He means it. Sylvain can see that he means it, in the flinty look in his eyes, the fold of his arms, the jut of his chin as he looks up at Sylvain. It’s the saddest thing Sylvain’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot of shit. “Felix,” he says. He reaches out. He can never help it, not when Felix is like this, not when he believes. Felix doesn’t flinch from Sylvain’s hand on his cheek anymore. “Sweetheart. You know he’s dead.” “Don’t call me that,” Felix says. But when he swings himself back in the saddle and Sylvain does the same, he doesn’t tell Sylvain not to follow. That’s more than good enough. 

[iknewiwouldregretthis]

living alone has its dangers. for instance, what if one day you make a jacket out of an old blanket, but it turns out more like a robe and you model it for your friends and they say you look like you're a blanket wizard so then you start referring to the blanket robe itself as the Blanket Wizard as in i'm knitting pockets for the Blanket Wizard but also whomever wears the robe is also the Blanket Wizard and you tell your coworkers about the Blanket Wizard and they're confused but also intrigued and you end up spending all your time thinking about how you can make the Blanket Wizard even greater

[lotus-pear]

what is childe doing in bungou gay dogs😟

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 18: Balls (Bullet Train)

Sometimes (oftentimes) it's true that all you need are Balls. I personally absolutely love Balls. I'm a big fan! Ekhem. Today I'm using the help of (I mean, copying most of the passages from it) my earlier Balls rant that I have written down after my first listen of it back in January. I really love this album and I don't want to completely skip over saying a couple words on it at least but I really don't think I have the headspace to write anything very good for it today. I'll still try though!

So yeah, Balls. It's a great album, fun and chill (in my sense of what I call and consider chill anyway), consistent, as Sparks albums tend to be, and as I suspected / hoped it does fit this specific vibe of driving around at night somewhere city-like and illuminated. Or being on a train deep at night and looking at the world zooming by (if you'd even see much of it on a train at night anyway.....). And I do think that it's not so dissimilar to Gratsax (I'd say now that it's definitely darker and moodier than its predecessor...). So it's interesting to think about how it's considered to be one of the "weak" ones (by music reviewers at least) while Gratsax is so beloved in comparision.

I will admit, I don't really know what the big problem with this album could be. As I said, it's fun, it has the melodies, it has the energy, it has the theatricality (I like seeing how more and more orchestral instruments such as strings are being incorporated into the music, in a way the jump into Lil' Beethoven two years later doesn't come of as THAT much of a shock because of this. The evolution of sound here is fascinating!) I really like the intense beats, just as much as the more laid-back and moodier pieces. And there's lots of gold to be found in the lyrics department as always.

One more thing I wanna say is that at some point I wondered if this music sounds older than it is. Maybe it does? But then I remembered that this was 2000 and honestly when I think about it, there just IS something about this album that fits so well with the Y2K image and vibe and all. Sparks 2000 and all that.

Favourite songs (and other highlights):

Balls: I mean. It's Balls.

Scheherazade: absolutely LOVE this one and I had the strangest impression of it sounding very familiar when I first heard it. Months later I found out that it was just briefly featured in TSB so I think that explains it (I will talk more about my TSB viewings on TSB day. EVERYTHING has to be explained in excruciating detail, lmao)

The Calm Before The Storm: bugsonas 4ever. Song itself is amazing too

How To Get Your Ass Kicked: how can a song about getting your ass kicked be so pleasant and relaxing, it always keeps cracking me up, how perfect that is actually

Bullet Train: I love it how introducing the topic of the song with a "It's the [topic of the song]" is a reoccurring theme on this album. Thank you Sparks for this ode to technology and art (these lyrics always have me giggling). And also it just goes hard as heck

It's Educational: a perfect fusion of / sequel to I Thought I Told You To Wait In The Car and Progress (it's mostly the vocal delivery that reminds me of the latter)

The Angels: such an odd one here but I still like it a lot, I apparently said that it sounds "surprisingly mainstream for Sparks but somehow in a positive way". It's very sweet and I absolutely love how Russell sings here, it's so different from what we're used to but that only makes it hit you even more in the feels, lol. And I actually prefer the alternative version of this song that's featured as a bonus track, and I do think that's in big part because you can hear Russell better on it (or that was my first impression of it at least and it kind of stuck)

[citricacidprince]

Thinking about Psychonauts and how much I love the Aquato family once again

They mean the world to me your honor