#only just occurred to me that that bothers me
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MY BOY ONLY BREAKS
HIS FAVORITE TOYS — R. CAMERON
synopsis — in which rafe cameron and his girlfriend led a fairytale relationship, until he got bored.
❝HE SAW FOREVER SO HE SMASHED IT UP.❞
It started off with infatuation.
Even though you’ve known Rafe since birth, he’s never acknowledged your existence. Not until your senior year.
Suddenly, he bothered to bat his eyes in your direction. He would glare when you laughed with a boy at the country club, for whatever reason you couldn’t seem to understand.
You had no idea why he suddenly became interested in you, why he would suddenly turn up at the most random places you were at.
At the grocery store, he would appear in random aisles, giving you a quick wave that he would’ve never done a few years prior. You reciprocated, not thinking about it a second later.
Rafe would think about that wave as he fell asleep that same night.
The idea of you clouded his mind most the time, his thoughts wandering as he pondered what having you would feel like.
His friends would call it an obsession, the way his eyes followed you and your sundress as you walked across the deck of the country club to your parents.
“She’s gotta watch out, Rafe’s gonna pounce on her any second.” His friends would laugh, forgetting about you two a second later.
He watched you at parties, the way you declined every drink and had fun, sober. It was like a foreign thought for Rafe.
So, he crept closer. He started to inhale you, like a drug better than the cocaine he’d sniff daily. When he’d talk to you, it was like being lifted off the ground and twirled around so much that you’d fall out of dizziness into his arms.
He’d hold you, of course. Get a good whiff of your shampoo, smell your perfume that lingered onto your sweaty body, and caress your leg as you would sit on his lap at parties.
Rafe was high on love. So much so that he didn’t do cocaine for a full week, but in return wanted you by his side for almost that whole duration. He would be a gentlemen to you, opening doors, paying for everything, and taking you wherever you wanted.
“You’re so beautiful.” He would say at a bonfire, away from everyone so they couldn’t see the make out session that was about to occur, but close enough to still hear the muffled music and sounds of people talking.
“You’re so whipped.” You would reply, a sly smile on your face as you leaned in to give him that messy top lip kiss he loves, which would make him lust for you and your touch even more.
The peak of your relationship was the summertime, as Rafe could have you all to himself. Without the distractions of your guy friends as school, you were almost always either at his house or on his boat while he was fishing. Either way, he loved seeing you in a skimpy bikini. But only for him.
You stood between his legs as he sat on the anchored ledge of the Druthers, planting kisses on his neck and he rubbed his hands up and down your body.
A frown landed on your face as you pulled away from him, “Rafe, why are we always on the Druthers?”
“What do you mean?” He asked, looking up at you with a concerned face.
You pouted, crossing your arms and taking a seat on his lap. “It just feels like you’re stealing me away from everyone. Not stealing—I just mean that we’re always… Isolated.”
He sighed, tightening his grip around your waist. “I know princess, but how would we enjoy the sunset every night if we have drunk teenagers in our ears? Besides, does anyone else need to know the things we do? We can do whatever we want on here,” he smirked, his finger running up your bikini strap, “it’s all up to you.”
With that same seductive smile, you were convinced that he was a romantic for whisking you away from your friends each night, but it turned out just be a way to get you all to himself.
You saw a future—a life with him. You two had been dating for almost a year, and there was no way he didn’t think so either. It might’ve been a bit too early, but at some point he saw forever.
It was fine until July Ninth.
You had begged to stay on the island for one night to go to a party with Rafe, and he was still not on board even entering the house. He made you promise to stay by him the whole night, to which you did.
His eyes floated around the whole night, his death grip on your hand getting looser and looser and the night continued. “I’m gonna go to the bathroom, yeah? Go talk to your friends.” He said, dropping your hand and disappearing into the crowd before you could even get a word in.
You had no choice but to mingle around with people you hadn’t talked to in months, the awkwardness steaming though each conversation.
After thirty minutes with no signs of Rafe, you decided to go looking for him around the alcohol and weed smelling house.
To your surprise, Rafe was snorting a line of cocaine. As he looked up, you realized that another girl dared him to do it. Her giggle as he did so was contagious, wrapping her hands around his neck and embracing him as he finished. He mumbled something in her ear, but you couldn’t quite read his lips. As she turned around, a smirk was wide on her face and her cheeks were flaming red.
It was too late when Rafe spotted you staring directly as him, your plastic cup filled with Sprite dented from the tight grip you held on it watching their interaction.
You ran through the crowd as fast as you could, pushing and shoving your way through the sweaty and drunk people as Rafe was close behind you. Or so you thought.
By the time you were hyperventilating outside, Rafe gave up on you halfway through the house and went back to his original place with the other girl.
You felt sick to your stomach. The way Rafe had told you he saw a future with you a week prior to today and decided to throw it all away the second he was going to commit was a classic Rafe move.
“I should’ve fucking known it was a matter of time.” You whispered, collapsing on the grass as you threw your now empty cup onto the porch behind you.
A figure popped out behind you, catching the cup you threw. “Woah. You okay?” Topper Thornton asked, a smile plastered on his face.
“Do I look okay?” You replied, ripping out some grass from the perfectly cut lawn.
“You look… Nevermind. I saw Rafe in there with some girl. Did you guys break up?”
“No. No, Topper! Isn’t that the fucking funny part? We didn’t fucking break up! Last week he was like, all over me. I was all over him. He said that he saw forever with me. Now he wants to smash it all up?” You almost screamed, over exaggerating your hand motions.
“He’s known for this. It’s not your fault, really.” Topper replied in a much calmer voice, most likely in an attempt to calm you down too from causing a scene.
A loud scoff erupted from your angry voice, “You should’ve seen him when he first saw me, like really saw me. It was like he was obsessed with me. I liked it too, is that so bad?”
“No, no. Actually, I don’t fuckin’ know. This is all crazy. I’m gonna go get Rafe, and I’ll tell you if he’s doing anything else insane. ‘kay? Stay here, and don’t do anything stupid.” Topper said frantically, then running back into the house in an effort to search for Rafe.
You plopped back onto the grass, tears swelling at your waterline as you looked at the freshly cut grass. You wanted to rip out more, but you might as well wait to pull out Rafe’s hair.
A few minutes later came a disheveled Rafe and a worried Topper, “He’s here.” Topper sighed behind you.
“Bring him here. I don’t want to turn around.” You said, refusing to look behind yourself.
Topper rolled his eyes and pushed Rafe in front of you. His hair was messy, his cheeks were red, and his nose hairs were layered with a white powder.
“I’m sorry.” Was all he said before sitting down beside you. As he sat, you stood up.
“I can’t even fucking look at you. You destroyed me, Rafe. Everything I have is gone because of you. I don’t wanna know what happened with you and that girl or what you whispered in her ear to make her blush like that, but I can’t be the person you just throw away once you get sick of them. I’m not a toy, Rafe. But clearly I was your favorite one.”
He was silent after that. He couldn’t even look at you.
“Once I fix me and everything you destroyed, you’re gonna miss me.” Was your final words before walking away from him.
After you left, he went back inside.
❝THERE WAS DANGER
IN THE HEAT OF MY TOUCH.❞
#taylor swift#rafecameron#rafe x y/n#rafe angst#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron#rafe x you#rafe imagine#rafe obx#rafe fic#rafe smut#rafe x reader#rafe fanfiction#outerbanks rafe#taylornation#ts ttpd#ttpd#obx fic#outer banks#jj mayback imagine#jj maybank#Spotify
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you called - b.s.
Brennan Sorrengail x reader
You're captured by gryphon fliers while out alone on patrol, but Brennan comes to your rescue. [request]
words: 1.7k
🏷: no book spoilers, as this occurs years before Fourth Wing, soon after Bren graduated from Basgiath. gender neutral reader in an established romantic relationship with Brennan. brief / vague descriptions of interrogation, torture, and inhumane treatment of reader by fliers, but Bren mends you and takes care of you (lots of cuddles). your dragon is mated to Marbh. her name is Fuir, a shortened form of the word for "alive" since Marbh means "dead". you sleep in Bren's shirt but there's no description of how it fits on you. wrote this in an hour and didn't edit so be nice pls
It’s easy enough to find the cell block. You’re the only prisoner there, with just one guard posted outside that Brennan makes quick work of, taking the keys from his belt to unlock the door.
He kneels down by your side, comforted by the rise and fall of your chest -- he’d known that you were still alive, because he is, as are Fuir and Marbh, but the visual confirmation is soothing.
He wraps a hand around your wrist to block the pain, using the other to start mending your wounds. Whoever had been interrogating you must have had a very short temper; your temples are bloodied, a few of your ribs bruised or broken, several small cuts dotting the exposed skin of your arms -- they’d taken your flight jacket, as a trophy.
He burns with anger, but forces himself to focus on the good, the fact that you’re still alive in front of him, that he’d found you before it was too late.
You finally open those pretty eyes, struggling to focus your gaze on him, but you put it together quickly enough. “Bren,” you murmur, delirious, “you came.”
“You called,” he answers simply, still working on mending your wounds.
It takes you a moment to work through the thick fog of what is definitely a concussion, but you realize he must have heard your desperate cries for help down the bond and came to find you; your plan worked.
You’d wanted to give up hope after the first day, but accepting your death meant accepting Brennan’s as well, and you couldn’t let him die like that, so you persevered. You’d forced yourself to eat what meager portions of food they’d given you, to drink the foul-tasting water and sleep as much as you could, to keep yourself alive.
Whenever they left you alone, you’d tried to reach for Fuir, for Brennan and Marbh, for your magic, getting no responses. After two days, you realized that they must have put a power-dampener in that water, like the one the professors had dosed you with before RSC to disconnect you from your dragons. So you’d stopped drinking it, pouring it out instead to make it look like you had -- and that night, you’d finally felt that little red string connecting you to Fuir, and the shimmering orange one that leads you to Brennan and Marbh.
You’d cried in relief, trying to reach out to them, but your words had quickly turned to screams of pain as the officer returned to try to get information out of you again. They must have figured out your scheme, because the beating was the worst that day -- they’d hardly ever left you alone, giving you less than an hour between rounds of questioning.
You close your eyes again, realizing that this is probably a dream, a hallucination brought on by days of isolation in this dark room with only enough food and water to keep you alive. You aren’t really aware of how long it’s been. There’s no sunlight down here, and they haven’t been feeding you on a regular schedule, so you couldn’t keep track by counting the meals, either.
“I thought Navarre didn’t bother with extractions,” you mumble.
“They don’t. So I might be court-martialed when we get back, but I don’t care. I couldn’t leave you here.”
“M’sorry,” you murmur. “Shouldn’t have gone off on my own. Thank you for finding me.”
“Don’t apologize, love. And I’ll always find you,” he promises, stroking your hair. “We’re tied together, aren’t we?”
You manage a soft laugh that quickly turns into a cough, your throat dry and raw from the screaming and from days without much water.
He decides he’s mended you enough for now -- you should be able to move now without injuring yourself further, and you really need to get out of here. “Up you get,” he coaxes, hooking an arm around your waist and helping you up from the floor.
Someone is waiting for you in the hallway -- someone dressed in black. A rider. “Nao?” you ask, blinking at him. You really must be hallucinating.
The older rider smiles at you. “Hi, kid. Good to see you in one piece.” He turns to Brennan. “There’s two guards at each exit. We can take them, but they’ll probably sound an alarm.”
The two men continue to strategize, and you try to follow along, but most of the words go in one ear and out the other. You settle for leaning against Brennan and trying to stay awake.
“Hello, sweet one,” Fuir says gently, and you nearly cry at the familiar voice back in your head after days of isolation.
“Hi,” you respond in a whisper.
Brennan and Naolin have agreed on a plan, and you follow them closely, staying by Brennan’s side as they lead you out of the compound. Naolin makes quick work of both of the guards, knocking them out easily, and you slip past the treeline into the forest.
It’s freezing outside, literally -- your boots make tracks through the half-inch of snow on the ground that continues to fall gently, tiny flakes drifting through the air and coating everything in a thin layer of white.
You rub your hands over your arms, trying to keep warm. Brennan drapes his cloak over your shoulders, and you burrow into it, happy to be wrapped in the warmth and softness of the fur-collared fabric and the comforting smell of your partner.
You finally spot Fuir -- she looks a little worse for wear, too, cuddled up with Marbh, who is licking her wounds like an oversized cat. Cute.
“Can you still make it home?” you ask, concerned.
She sounds slightly offended. “Of course I can. It’s you I’m worried about.”
She lays down, making it easier for you to climb up her leg. As you settle into your seat, you can feel invisible bands of magic keeping you in place -- you breathe a sigh of relief that you won’t have to worry about keeping your seat as you pass over the mountain range. You have no idea how long of a flight it’s going to be, but you don’t think you could handle more than a few minutes in the saddle.
“Now would be an excellent time to leave!” Naolin shouts from his perch on the back of Tairn’s neck.
You turn your head, seeing three gryphons closing in from your right. Shit.
“We’ll be fine,” she soothes. “If we get high enough, they won’t be able to follow us.”
You shut your eyes tightly as the cold wind hits your cheeks, making your eyes water -- they’d taken your goggles too, and all your knives, everything except your base layer of clothing. She raises her head, blocking the worst of it, tightening up her formation with Tairn and Marbh, letting each of them protect you from one side.
“I think we lost them,” Brennan tells you through the bond, and you breathe a sigh of relief.
Fuir adjusts the invisible ties keeping you seated, guiding you forward to lean against the back of her neck. “Rest. It’s another hour to get home.”
You hum in reply, pulling Brennan’s cloak tighter around your shoulders and relaxing into her. She feels warmer than usual, likely because you’re freezing cold.
You wake to the feeling of the wind dying down, and her wings stilling as she lands.
She settles down into the snowy grass, letting you climb down slowly.
Brennan is waiting on the ground to help you, gathering you into his arms. “Let’s get you to the infirmary,” he coaxes.
You shake your head no. “Want you to do it,” you say quietly.
He caves easily, leading you to his room, keeping you tucked into his side with a strong arm around your waist. Nobody questions it or stops you on the way up, your bloodied appearance perfectly normal for a rider.
He settles you into his desk chair, starting to mend the smaller cuts and bruises that he hadn’t gotten to earlier. The warmth of his hands and the feeling of the aching pain subsiding relaxes you, your eyes falling shut.
“You think you can shower?” he asks gently.
You nod. You don’t want to get up, but you do feel absolutely disgusting after the last four days, and a shower is definitely in order. Two showers, probably.
You follow him into the en-suite bathroom, going through the motions without thought -- washing the blood from your skin, scrubbing off the dirt and making an attempt at washing your hair. Brennan stands by your side, showering himself in near-silence, washing off the day.
He wraps you in a warm towel, letting you rest against him for a moment. “You should eat something,” he says gently.
You burrow deeper into him in protest. “Later,” you murmur. You just want to sleep. It’s late, nearing lights-out anyway, and you need to rest up for the inevitable scolding you’re going to get tomorrow morning.
“Do you want one of your shirts, or mine?” he asks.
“Yours, please,” you answer quietly; his clothes are always more comfortable, more comforting to you, and you could use that extra layer of his presence right now. You finish drying yourself off, letting him slip one of his black tunics over your head and wiggling your arms into the sleeves.
He pulls the covers back, motioning for you to climb into bed with him. The softness of the mattress underneath you and the feel of warm, clean blankets against your skin after three days of sleeping on a dirty stone floor is overwhelming. You finally start to cry, tears slipping down your cheeks.
“You’re safe, my love,” he soothes, holding you close. “You’re home, with me.”
“I know,” you whisper, trying to steady your breathing. “I know, I just…”
He shushes you softly. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. Just know that I love you, and that I will never let anything like that happen to you again.”
You nod against his shoulder. “Love you too,” you sniff. “Thank you for finding me.”
He presses a kiss to your temple. “I will always find you.”
You relax into him, comforted by the warmth of his body against yours, the muscled arms wrapped around you and the smell of his cologne that lingers on the sheets. This is the safest place in the world, right here -- not Navarre, not the fortress, but this room, this bed, because Brennan is in it, holding you.
“Get some sleep,” he encourages. “I’ll be right here with you.”
You hum in reply, nuzzling your cheek into his chest and letting the steady beat of his heart lull you to sleep.
#brennan sorrengail#brennan sorrengail x reader#fourth wing#fourth wing x reader#fourth wing fanfic#mine
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Jade + Aventurine analysis bc you guys can't read
A somewhat pretentious analysis of Jade and Aventurine by your friendly local neuroscience major (with receipts) (I am putting my academic knowledge to good uses obviously)
Let’s recap what we know about Aventurine
He is, insofar as he’s aware, the last surviving member of the Avgin people of Sigonia
Is he actually the last member? It’s unclear, but the IPC seems to think so (which will become relevant later)
The genocide of his people occured on the day of the Kakava festival, his birthday, by the Katicans, an opposing clan of the Avgins. Both the Katicans and the Avgins were exiled to the desert because of the fighting. The assorted clans of Sigonia were not willing to protect the Avgin people, and they knew that if they were to be let inside the city, the Katicans would follow
The origin of their fighting is uncertain. It is implied that none of the clans got along well. (Aventurine’s second character stor)
Why did the genocide happen? Because of the Katicans and the IPC
But wait!! I hear you yell, didn’t you just say the Katicans are the ones who killed the Avgins?
And to that I say, yes! I did! But the IPC is still the reason they died. During the 2.1 story, All the Sad Tales, during the cutscene with Kakavasha and his sister right before the massacre.
“Little do the katicans know, this time we will fight back! The men in black that descend from the skies are on our side. The Katicans stand no chance against them…” (Kakavasha’s Sister)
This means that the Avgin people only decided to fight back because the IPC told them that they’d protect them, which they clearly did not do
The IPC also had a financial motive for getting rid of the Avgin people (and the Katicans, though that’s not relevant to the discussion)
We can see in Aventurine’s character story I, “And let’s not forget the letters from the councilors of the Sigonian Sovereignty. They denounce his tribe for once breaking arrangements and sowing discord… resulting in repeated delays in the signing of agreements between Sigonia and IPC.”
The IPC therefore had a very clear motive for deceiving the Avgin people and allowing them to enter a fight unprepared
To make matters worse, the IPC, the hub for technological advancement, medical discoveries, etc, could not save a single person? Not a single man, woman, or child could be saved? Forgive me if I find that unbelievable
“The clan launched a massive attack on the Avgin… who were under the protection of the IPC, resulting in 6,728 deaths and 3,452 missing.”
So… around 4,000 people were missing…? This brings me to my second concern:
The Katicans do not particularly strike me as the type of people who take prisoners - their goal is clearly to exterminate the Avgins
4,000 missing individuals implies that either
1) The IPC did not give a single fuck and simply decided not to search for them (didn’t bother collecting their bodies, tracking down the Katicans who took them, giving them proper burials, etc), or,
2) The IPC DOES know where they are, and decided to mark them as missing persons
As far as real-world tragedies go, I am not inclined in the slightest to give the IPC any benefits of the doubt. These are the same guys who nuked Boothill’s planet. And are currently extorting Belobog. And canonically forced Topaz’s planet into indentured servitude (and were likely going to try the same with Belobog). We don’t even know the full extent of the damage they’ve caused, honestly, and I don’t think we ever will.
After the genocide, there is an unspecified period of time between Kakavasha’s escape and his enslavement. The ‘indifferent man’ in his quest calls him a “scrawny brat”, so he was probably a teenager/young adult at that time. It’s unclear what his history was prior to that point, however we do know:
Indifferent male: “The guys in black didn’t say much…”
…the guys in black? As in, the IPC? Those are the EXACT WORDS that Kakavasha calls the IPC workers multiple times throughout the quest
It also means that he bought him from the IPC
So, at the VERY LEAST one department of the IPC was involved in human trafficking
It would make sense if the IPC had somehow captured him at some point, as he would’ve been like. An unsupervised 7yo in the desert. And of course, upon realizing someone survived the massacre, decides to ‘maximize profit’, for lack of a better word
It’s unclear to me currently why the case of Kakavasha tricking the IPC and the Intelligentsia guild is called the “Eghazyo Aventurine case” because this would have happened before Kakavasha became Aventurine, unless this is a mistake or mistranslation. The voiceover seemed to imply that the name of the case was aired during the time that Kakavasha was testifying, so I doubt that it’s called the Aventurine case because Kakavasha became Aventurine
Another option I’ve seen is that ‘indifferent male’ is the previous Aventurine, which I can’t confirm or deny, though it seems likely
Only thing that doesn’t make sense to me is that if he was the previous Aventurine, why would he call his fellow IPC workers “men in black?” Does anyone know if there are other instances of IPC workers calling each other this?
Aventurine is forced, by ‘indifferent male’ to kill 34 other slaves. He essentially Hunger Games’d 35 people. It’s also implied that it was broadcasted, because other people were betting on it and were making comments about he “looked good”.
At some point, Aventurine manages to trick the IPC and Intelligentsia guild into believing that the remains of Tazzyronth (or the Sand King) are buried in the unclaimed Sigonian desert, costing the IPC billions of dollars and eventually killing the man who bought him (rightfully so)
After that point, he’s taken to trial before Jade, where he strikes a deal: he gets off death row if he proves to be a good investment
Now, let me make myself clear: Jade did not save Aventurine from shit. Aventurine got himself out of a horrible situation by any means he had available to him, and those means happened to involve leveraging his situation and putting his life on the line to prove to Jade he was a worthy investment. I’ve seen people try to argue that ‘joining the IPC is what Aventurine wanted’ but I think this is a shallow and disingenuous argument because it removes the context of his decision entirely. He did that because he felt cornered, and then, presumably, because he hoped he could use the power within the IPC to protect other Avgin people (which is why he asks after them in his character story). I also saw people saying that Aventurine deserved to be on trial…. Which is certainly an interesting opinion. Mind you, the man who Aventurine killed was responsible for the deaths of 34+ people and was actively buying human beings on the black market, so as far as I’m concerned killing him was an act of public good.
A few more things to clear up about this situation:
In the IPC broadcast about the Eghazyo Aventurine case, it conveniently leaves out that Aventurine was enslaved, probably because that could influence public opinion; additionally, I think the erasure of the whole ‘slave’ thing was just to cover their own ass because they knew that shit wouldn’t fly
Aventurine was not ‘in control’ of this situation; too many of you don’t understand what coercion is and that scares the hell out of me. He killed that man because that was the only way he could be free, and after that the IPC sentenced him to death. It isn’t a choice when your only other option is death. It baffles me that people think this.
Jade does not give a single fuck about Aventurine beyond what he provides to the IPC because she cannot conceptualize relationships or the value of human life outside of a transactional purpose, which tracks with her being a debt collector…
Jade literally says, and I quote, “A servant should obey his master”. For the people in the back, A SERVANT SHOULD OBEY HIS MASTER. Who the fuck says that. Even if she isn’t personally involved with whatever human trafficking the IPC has going on (which I seriously doubt she isn’t at least aware of, given her rank), she sympathizes with a literal slave owner over his victim which is genuinely insane.
Something also incredibly important: Aventurine had no legal defense
Like… none at all? I’m not overly familiar with the US legal system, but even in this case I feel like there would be some kind of self-defense justification. Like. He bought people. On the black market. And then made them kill each other. I don’t think killing him warrants a death sentence for Kakavasha (especially one that holds over once he’s a Stoneheart)
This extreme overreaction on behalf of the IPC probably also has something to do with him not having an ‘interastral refugee travel permit’ (mentioned in the first broadcast message during All the Sad Tales) which also begs the question what in the godamn fuck is an interastral refugee travel permit. I can only assume that the IPC is handing out these ‘travel permits’.... Which also means that they are directly responsible (for the sole survivor of a genocide THEY caused) not having one
The fact that the legal system is structured like this does not surprise me at all. It was stacked against him from the beginning and we need to stop pretending this was a power play on Aventurine’s part rather than a desperate last ditch attempt at some form of freedom
Additionally, Aventurine’s banner is literally called “gilded imprisonment” and his light cone is called “inherently unjust destiny” like they literally could not make it more obvious. He just exchanged his old shackles for shinier ones :/
Something else I’d like to point out: Penacony has a grand overarching theme of “a cage is still a cage”; in fact, Himeko says that verbatim in 2.2! I think that’s also important to consider when looking at this situation.
Also, Aventurine also feels so little autonomy that he was literally willing to kill himself to escape. Like full stop kill himself. His future self tells him that “death” is the only real freedom he will ever experience, and I think that alone demonstrates that the IPC has done nothing more but lengthened his leash. I don’t think it’s fair at all to claim that any of this is what he “wanted” or that he’s like. Enjoying himself. Because 2.1 makes it so abundantly clear that he’s fucking miserable. Like you’re aware that this is still coercion right. What do you think happens if he stops performing well? What do you think the IPC will do to him if he is no longer producing money for them? Quickly. Look me in my eyes
Now onto the elephant in the room: Jade herself
Personally I find her character design gross fetish-bait, but to each their own I guess. It’s not really my business if you like her character for whatever reason. I’m not saying that you can’t enjoy her character, but I do think people should be examining their reasons for liking her a little more closely. Or at the very least not making jokes about slavery. That is very strange.
I’ve seen a lot of people say that we should reserve judgment for what her character is like until after she’s out; I disagree. I think we have everything we need. (This is coming from someone who could see Aventurine’s backstory from a mile away and predicted it in 2.0. So far my track record is unblemished but if you don’t want to take my word for it I have evidence).
Let’s take a look at her eidolons:
E1: Altruism? Nevertheless Tradable
E2: Morality? Herein Authenticated
E3: Honesty? Soon Mortgaged
E4: Sincerity? Put Option Only
E5: Hope? Hitherto Forfeited
E6: Equity? Pending Sponsorship
That’s a mouthful, right?
Eidolons are supposed to be the truest reflection of one’s soul and provide us information on the character themself. All of her eidolons reference a kind of transactional relationship - in which she evaluates concepts like altruism, morality, and honesty on a scale of how much worth she can drag out of them. This is consistent with what we’ve seen from her character so far. I find the specific statements ‘Hope? Hitherto Forfeited’ and ‘Equity? Pending Sponsorship’ to be… so sinister lmao. Like she is straight up saying the quiet part out loud. Now let’s compare her eidolons to Aventurine’s:
Aventurine’s E1: Prisoner’s Dilemma.
The Prisoner’s Dilemma game theory wherein two people, separated, must cooperate for mutual benefit, or betray their partner for an individual reward. This perfectly reflects Aventurine and Ratio’s plan in 2.1, and goes to emphasize the importance of trust that Aventurine has.
Aventurine’s E4: The Unexpected Hanging Paradox
At first inspection, the ‘unexpected hanging paradox’ appears to be a regular thought experiment, but actually has to do heavily with probability. The Unexpected Hanging Paradox entails a situation where a criminal is sent to death, however the Judge does not tell the prisoner which day he will be executed on, only that the executioner should ‘surprise him’ over the course of the next week. The prisoner therefore concludes that he will not be executed because it will be impossible to surprise him based on a game of probability. This directly references Aventurine’s experience in court both as Kakavasha, on trial for murder, and when he confronts Sunday.
We can see here that eidolons are absolutely reflective of character goals, intentions, and thoughts. Jade’s eidolons are based entirely on a manipulative, exploitative worldview. Whether or not her worldviews include herself are up for interpretation at this point, but it’s obvious to me that she sees Aventurine as an investment and not a person. The first thing she comments when she sees Aventurine is how pretty his eyes are - immediately assigning material value to his body, which is especially gross considering she is well aware that he was enslaved.
Then, at the end of 2.2, she makes another cameo - and Aventurine does not seem to receive her well. Understandably so. He mentions wanting to “escape her” during his phone call, providing us with insight into his framework and how he perceives her. He literally uses the word ‘escape’. He does NOT like her. Jade proceeds to call him “child”, which I interpret as at least partially demeaning. She also didn’t seem to care at all when she thought he died in 2.1, so I’m not really sure where anyone got the idea that they were close.
As another note on Jade’s character design before I wrap up, I personally find it extremely uncomfortable that she has a whip. Again, I’m not going to tell anyone that you can’t enjoy her character, but there are definitely some extremely strange undertones that hyv is leaning into that I really don’t appreciate. I also think the greater reception of Jade’s character deserves its own post because I don’t even know where to start with that.
So, giving Jade EVERY benefit of the doubt, we can conclude that she: she ONLY knows about the enslavement - but has no personal ties - and does not care, does not appear to care that her colleagues were participating in human trafficking (specifically seemed more put-off about the lack of revenue than the various human rights violations, which makes sense because she doesn’t seem to care about any of the other human rights violations, such as nuking planets, either), would have had no problem sentencing him to death had he not been a company asset, implied that slavery is good, claimed that she didn’t know why Aventurine would kill the person who owned him because it ‘didn’t benefit him’, is participating in the repossession of Penacony by the IPC, is a debt collector (derogatory), did not gaf that her colleague was going on a suicide mission, and did not gaf when her colleague presumably died.
Footnote: Before you start, no disliking Jade but liking Aventurine is not misogynistic (and that accusation is, in itself, misogynistic), yes, it is disingenuous to claim that Aventurine was not coerced, it is also disingenuous to claim that the IPC had no knowledge of the human trafficking, yes you can still like her. Idgaf. And stop making jokes about racism and slavery, it’s weird and I think your brain should be studied in a lab so that doctors can determine what is wrong with you
In conclusion:
Media literacy is dead and the hsr fandom killed it.
#hsr#hsr jade#hsr aventurine#i hate it here#i should've known better than to get into another hyv fandom
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for the 500 followers fest
23:54
the brownstone
henry
melt by kehlani
are y'all tired of me being like "wow this song is a banger i can't believe i haven't listened to it before" ??? no?
wow this song is a banger i can't believe i haven't listened to it before!
anyway please enjoy possibly the sappiest, softest thing i've ever written
read the rest of the ficlets here
❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙
11:54pm, the brownstone
Henry tries to enter quietly, on the off-chance that Alex is already asleep—doesn’t want David’s habitual greeting to pull Alex out of mutually much-needed slumber. The muffled strains of Alex’s elle woods my beloved playlist coming down the hall let him know he needn’t have bothered. So he lets his keys clang in the bowl, lets David jump on him with rattling tags, lets his voice carry more than he usually would at almost midnight as he greets his dog.
Henry loves the shelter, loves meeting all the kids, and giving them a space free from unreasonable and unrealistic and unsafe expectations, but even Pez would be running on fumes alone after hour sixteen of an eight hour shift. Unfortunately for Henry, housing emergencies are rarely so obliging as to occur in a respectable nine-to-five window. But Starr is safe now, settled into a room, and even tentatively bonding with her roommate, so Henry can be home.
He makes his way to the second floor den that Alex prefers to study in, huffing out a soft laugh when he hears heavy books closing and the abrupt change of playlists to soft boy hours (gender neutral). He slides open the pocket door and leans against the frame and can’t help the soft smile that takes over his face. At least sixty percent of his tension seems to vanish at the sight of Alex turning towards him, face lighting up with love.
“Weren’t you supposed to stop studying at nine tonight?”
“Well, I was going to stop, but then a certain someone texted to say they didn’t know when they were going to be home and so I had to take drastic measures,” Alex says, finishing packing away his things for class tomorrow.
“David has been spending an inordinate amount of time out on the town,” Henry teases, moving into the room properly, drawn like a magnet toward his boyfriend.
Alex chuckles. “He used to be such a fine, upstanding gentleman, too. Such a shame his behavior’s gone to the dogs.”
“Seems he’s had a bad influence, hanging around with you so often,” Henry says. He steps into Alex’s space and Alex’s arms come up without hesitation. “Hello, love.”
Alex kisses him softly, sweetly. “Glad you’re home, H.” He pulls Henry down onto the couch and Henry wastes no time laying on top of him and curling up on Alex’s chest. He smells like coffee and a hint of cinnamon and the rest of the tension Henry’s been carrying around fades away as Alex strokes along his back.
Right here, surrounded by Alex on all sides, is Henry’s favorite place in the world. Right here, the public can’t get to him. Right here, he doesn’t have to be a prince, or even a youth shelter director.
Right here, he can just be Henry.
People always think that Alex never stops talking, but that’s categorically untrue. He talks a lot, certainly, but only when he knows Henry is ready to hear it. The reality is that Alex cares so much and so deeply for Henry, that he’s learned to read Henry’s varied and ever-shifting moods with the smallest cues. Henry’s never been more grateful for Alex’s personalized superpower than tonight, when all he wants to do is rest here with Alex, listening to smooth voices over acoustic guitar and Alex’s heartbeat thudding in time with his own.
Henry sinks into the moment, letting his eyes fall shut in utter contentment. He cherishes every moment he gets with Alex; the novelty of just getting to be with him hasn’t even begun to wear off. Every brush of their fingers sends a spark down his spine. Every time Alex kisses the back of his neck before hip-checking him out of the way in the kitchen is thrilling. Every time he and Alex stroll through Brooklyn with David, hands entwined or around waists or even once in each other’s back pockets, Henry’s hit with a surge of pride.
But he loves these moments the best—the ones where he can’t tell where he stops and Alex begins. The moments, during or outside of sex, where being this close isn’t close enough for Henry. He wants to invent new ways to be close to someone, just to do them with Alex; wants to be able to crawl inside of Alex and set his watch to the beat of Alex’s heart. Henry wants to share not only his space with Alex, but his breath, his very soul—wants to knit them together so tightly that nothing and no one can unravel the threads connecting their hearts.
Luckily, unbelievingly for Henry—Alex wants the same things.
#cricket writes#hyunwonns#ficlet fest 500#rwrb#firstprince#warning sappiness ahoy#yall there's only 3 more ficlets after this#holy cow i'm almost done
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oh my god ive lost so much art because i left avgn
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someone cold emailed me to ask if i was going to a writer's conference in los angeles and was putting together a panel or caucus for queer poets or if i knew anyone who was...buddy you are severely overestimating how much i network with other poets (i don't) and how often i attend writer's conferences (never) 😭
#''do you know of any other poets going'' no?? bc i hate networking with other poets????#LIKE ARE THEY LESS ANNOYING THAN WHEN I WAS 23? IDK? MAYBE?#i feel like most things these days are less annoying than when i was 23#or maybe i'm just better equipped to deal with annoying things than when i was 23#yesterday i was talking to someone about my ethos wrt a class i ran last fall and he stopped me in the middle and was like#you're amazing. that class was a hot mess and you still had fun and found the good in it#like no i'm not amazing. i'm just in my thirties and it takes a lot more than other people's mental health crises to throw me off my game#he was pretty ticked off in the fall when i told him the like depth of crisis multiple students were in bc he thought i should have told hi#i was like idk it did not occur to me to ask for help. he was like you're doing daily check ins to make sure your students are eating??#idk!! it didn't bother ME my job was just to make sure they were still alive! i mean my job was actually to teach liberation theology but#like i was not good at that. but i DO know how to be annoying until people feel less like killing themselves and more like killing me#anyway all that to say i can't wait to see how much less bothered i am in my 40s#i hope i have reached such a state of zen by age 50 that my spirit is unruffled by anything and anyone#i hope i float through life in a fine mist of okayness#someone says ''oh my god kasper my life is falling to pieces'' and i say ok 👍 we can get through this together👍#what was this post about??? oh right networking#good networking: librarians bc you just go ''is your manager batshit insane'' and they go THIS PLACE MAKES ME SUICIDAL#and then you're friends for life#bad networking: poets (when i was 23) because all they do is name drop (when i was 23) and expect you to have opinions (i don't)#this post is wildly overconfident in my zen considering i'm so bored of being unemployed that i keep looking at teamworkonline#bhawks are hiring for a social media manager btw. imagine having that kind of access to mr 🥺. i'd literally only do paid advertising#to gay men#i'm not applying bc social media management would actually break my sobriety i am pretty sure#but imagine having connor bedard at your disposal and being like ok kid. we r gonna catfish some gays into caring about the bhawks#basically what i do with the cuda blog lol#ok ok ok i'm done. posting. goodbye. livejournal mode de-activate#fresno oilers.txt
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The way this has literally applied to every member of the batfam at some point and still does for most of them el oh el
#only difference is patrol during the day#and ‘oracle wannabe friends’#which a lot of batfam members have always had contacts and info brokers outside the oracle#but also woooow Duke doesn’t trust the cop or his daughter 😨#which I don’t want Duke having cop contacts at all but maybe that’s too black of me#like all the batfam members were teammates/mentees to Batman#even Steph who’s not rlly part of it is still included when u say batfam and seen as a main member#when tims parents were alive he was absolutely still batfam#and no that abandonment shit was made up#and even tho he patrols at day he very much still shows up for a bunch of night shit bc dc doesn’t wanna explore day Gotham lmaoooo#anyways maybe I’m terrible but I always thought smth terrible Is supposed to happen to Jay to fuel his story#SORRDY when I look at Jay all I see is anime mom with the side ponytail#It didn’t occur to me that maybe they just wanna slowly phase Duke out till someone on here said it 😭#uhm the fic is good tho no hate#like this authors note bothers me bc it exemplifies the double standards between Duke and literally everyone else#and how the issue of everyone being well established and years into their journey with Batman#is never taken into consideration. like Duke has been working with Bruce for awhile but he’s not at the yelling fights fuck u dad I’m runnin#away point yet lmaooo it’s just been 2-3 years yall#bc nobody wants to fucking write for him but I digress#anyways I do appreciate the fic again no hate#just nobody said this when tim was first starting out el oh el
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I downloaded an app that I think is meant to be used for like, detailed food tracking or something, but I instead really just wanted something with this format (color coded calendar days) so I could put in one single simple entry a day to kind of rate my day overall (based on physical health symptoms).. which..... looking back over it for the new year since when I first started tracking.. 9 "good" days in about 9 months, so roughly one good day a month LOL...
#A neutral/yellow day is if I felt sick or had any symptoms (nausea. joint pains. headahces. etc.)#to a distracting degree for at least an hour or more at any point in the day - YET it was not so severe or so distracting#that i was completely unable to get anything done. An orange day is if I was so sick or felt so bad#that I completed absolutely nothing that day because my primary focus was basically spending the entire day on whatever#was wrong with me or recovering from that. And a green day is a day that - even if maybe i had a few aches or pains - I was never any#noticable or distracting amount of sick - PLUS - i also got a reasonable amount of things done.#If I don't feel very sick yet I also lack the energy or mental wellness to complete daily tasks then it still counts as a yellow day.#So I guess like.. Yellow is if health was ok but focus was bad OR focus was okay but health was distracting. Green is BOTH focus and#health were mostly okay for a majority of the day with no major setbacks. And Orange is zero focus whatsoever because health is too bad.#There are also 5 categories. the worst is a super dark red and then best is a super bright green but I don't like using them#You have to select a bright red (x_x) emoji face to classify your day as dark red. and I dont like the implication of a 'dead' person face#because of my ocd lmao... it makes me afraid it's some habringer of death (if I select it for that day then somehting terrible will happen#the next day or whatever lol) *** *** *** - so I never use that one. I also feel like the MOST extreme categories should be reserved for#super extreme circumstance like.. I would only do a dark red day if I was literally hospitlaized or something. And same with the bright#green days like.. that would imply I guess that i was both suuuuper productive ANd had basically no symptoms at all all day. like a#Very Very Good day. and I just think that's not even possible. no day ever goes by without me feeling at least a little sick or achey at#SOME point lol... A day with NO headahces or issues or etc would be.... wow... mythical occurence..#I have definitely gotten worse as I got older but even at like 15 or 16 years old I used to take ibuprophen a ton (I dont anymore of course#for stomach reasons lol) and remember having various minor problems here and there I was bothered by a lot#AAANYWAY.. also I count 44 'bad' days ghb... that's losing like.. at least one entire month of time a year.. maybe this is why I have so mu#much trouble getting things done and finishing my projects. BUT thats the point and why I wanted to track that. to like.. see it all laid#out at the end of the year. Maybe I could even compare years. Even though I started late in 2023. It'd be interesting to have a#yearly record of how many good vs. bad vs. neutral days I had in any given year.#(app is called 'Moodflow' on android phones. in case anyone sees this and asks. though I cant vouch for it or any of the features or anythi#ng since.. again. i literally ONLY use the one single feature of rating calendar days. I look at nothing else on there. And I keep my data#off and phone in airplane mode basically at all times so I never get ads on apps. Sometimes i'll mention liking some puzzle game or somethi#and then someone else is like 'yeah i love it but OMG so many ads' and I'm just like.. yeagh.... not for me lol.. but sorry to you. that#sounds annoying certainly..) ANYWAY.. auuugh... a sea of yellow neutrality. better than a sea of orange though. so :'3c
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teeny little study for that thing with @chiropteracupola :)
shining on the inside
Despite the fact that he was thousands of miles from a home he felt quite certain he was never to return to, Daniel was always his most comfortable sat round a fire, turning a skewer with a quiet satisfaction.
Golden sparks leapt into the sky, ferocious, yet fizzling out before they could touch the sun-scorched leaves looming over their encampment. The last dregs of the summer evening hung thick and heavy in the air. Sighing, Daniel shrugged his shoulder and wiped at the sweat coagulating in his beard; it was a pointless gesture, really, it was sure to return in but a moment, but neither could he resist it. He was far, far from Georgia, and the heat still clung to him, a specter of the swamps, the mansion, the family he left behind.
On this summer night, Daniel and a small collection of his compatriots were rather rudely stationed deep in the woods of New Jersey, pitching tents and keeping watch while a strike force of their remaining team hobnobbed with the high society folks he had done his best to avoid for the rest of his earthly existence. He was content with that arrangement, of course, but a part of him longed for a mattress and the privacy of four sturdy walls, both of which were decidedly scarce in the wilderness.
Daniel’s spectacles were beginning to escape down his sweat-slicked nose.
Hand occupied with what was to be their dinner, he had no real way to coerce them back to their proper place, and could do very little else beyond contorting his face into all manner of expressions, before gloved fingers grasped the end of the spit and freed him of his duty. He mumbled a quick thanks, scrambling to replace his specs before he lost them again. When he looked up, Prometheus sat cross legged on the ground next to him, flames glimmering in the dark glasses they wore as they stared into the embers.
“Thank you kindly,” Daniel said, gently taking the spit from them to continue turning the cuts of venison Mundy had secured for them earlier in the day. Grease popped and spit, and Prometheus continued to examine it with what Daniel presumed to be detached curiosity. They clasped their hands in their lap, wiggling their boots and leaving small tracks in the dust. While they watched, their focus never broke, not even when an uproarious guffaw echoed from somewhere near the edge of camp.
Smiling softly, Daniel lightly tapped Prometheus on the shoulder.
“Y’like fires, don’t you?”
Prometheus seemed to brighten, straightening up and nodding enthusiastically. Their hood bounced with the gesture, loose curls of dark hair escaping from under its frayed edge.
“Thought so.” There was something horribly endearing about the way their silent firebrand, so capable of carnage on a level previously unknown to most, could find genuine moments of peace in the breathing space between battles, even if it was to be found in gazing longingly at smoldering logs with the reverence of a congregation for its priest. Of course, Daniel was familiar with Prometheus’s work—had been a rather vocal proponent of recruiting them to the team in the first place—but the figure behind the pamphlets was a far different one than he could have ever expected. Now, he was being allowed a peek through the curtain, to view their adoration of fire on a personal level, not just a political one.
Nudging Prometheus with his toe, Daniel said, “I do too.”
And it was true. Fire had been one of Daniel’s lone comforts when he had burned his final bridge, funnily enough; it had kept him warm, guided him to welcoming homes, and most of all, been printed in the pages of the writings he kept tucked in a pocket close to his chest. He propelled himself forward with the flames under his heels, wielding it to create, and build, and forge. Even here, roasting dinner over a meager blaze and sweltering in his woolen coat, the warmth was a touch of reassurance, careful hands cradling his face. It was nice to share the company with someone of a similar mind.
“You know,” he mused, bouncing his heel against the ground, “you’re a right fine fellow, lightning bug.”
Prometheus shimmied in their seat, knocking their head into Daniel’s knee with a muffled, “Mmmmph!” Toes tapping the stone circle that contained the fire, this was the most engaged Daniel had ever seen them, cheerful and alive.
Laughing, Daniel looked at the patch of empty dirt next to them. “Y’all got any room down there?”
Within seconds, Prometheus was shuffling aside, patting the ground and sending up little plumes of fine dust. The invitation was clear.
Daniel braced the spit under his upper arm, while Prometheus took his hand and guided him to his seat, settling hip to hip, knee to knee, shoulder to shoulder.
When Daniel looked at them once more, now level with their masked face, he could swear he saw the glint of soft, dark eyes behind the sparkling tinted glass.
#FIRST ENGIE FICLET. I'M LOVE HIM.#he is so fun to write :)#weather in the story brought to you by me Sweating My Ass Off even though it's only like 70 degrees#ANYWAY who hasn't stared at a fire absolutely hypnotized for like an hour#but also they're Bonding#i really wanna write more about pyro also since they're just. ough they <3#this one's a little less Smooth in terms of integrating source with prose but truly i cannot be bothered to course correct#so it is how it is!! hallelujah!!!#also i couldn't figure out how to put this in without Shoehorning it but daniel is missing part of his arm in this au#everything under the right elbow is gone#so. now you Know. hopefully this will come up with more substance later but it is important that everyone be Aware of this#disabled-to-disabled communication occurring with these two for real#but. yeah#title from incandescent ruins by the mountain goats :)#flintlock fortress#team fortress 2#the engineer: daniel conagher#the pyro: prometheus#radio free junebug#my writing
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never ask a man his salary a woman her age or a discord mod what age he and his girlfriend were when they first started “talking”
#every once in a while it occurs to me out of the blue#that he probably feels so full of himself#since I just didn’t respond to his harassment#and I abandoned this blog#he loves having the last word#he thinks he ruined my life and that I’m miserable and alone now#and it makes me feel guilty that I didn’t lay into him more#I do plan to vent my frustrations at some point#but I will do it in my leisure in my own time#I’m not an ugly jobless discord mod who makes my full-time working gf clean up five cats’ litter boxes and fix my food for me etc etc ^_^#I guess I don’t have as much time as you do to dedicate to bothering others! ^_^#not that posting on my own personal blog— that quite frankly you wouldn’t be reading if you weren’t obsessed w me— is bothering anyone! ^_^#also I am not in the habit of bickering with every single person I ever meet#I prefer to focus my attention on the people and things that give me joy#if there’s anything I’ve learned from this it’s to yeet toxic people out of my life immediately. no second chances. I have no regrets.#my standards actually were never too high. plenty of ppl can meet them. I’m not the only person like me in the world. go figure.#it’s actually not normal to be as sick and incapable of getting along w others as you and the rest of your ‘community’#still. I would like to speak on what happened because I regret that I held my tongue for those two years.#I don’t think it’s healthy to bottle up all of your negativity.#but I’ve realized now it may literally be years before I will have half the mind to think back on that time in my life and talk abt it#so Idk. I just wanted to say.#I genuinely hope he kills himself#I do not say that lightly#I am not someone who throws that phrase around like it’s nothing.#I genuinely mean it with every inch of my heart. he deserves to die horribly.#I just find solace in the fact that he is so miserable. not because he wants for anything material.#he is spoiled and lazy. but still he does not enjoy his life. how could he? all he does is badger ppl online all day.#it just blows my mind that someone that looks like THAT wld talk to me that way 🤣 you’d think being the ultimate loser wld humble him a bit#just wanted 2 get that out of the way#oviposting
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im pretending i dont shop on shein cause i dont want to support fast fashion but the real reason is their desktop site is completely unnavigatable and every time i try i give up within ten minutes
#literally just occured to me those sites are probably app based and dont bother much with optimizing their desktop sites#thats the only explination i can come up with for why a company in this day and age would have such a ba website
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I'm gonna ruin this because I don't know how to be normal about having a crush unless I'm high apparently
#carmina posting#lover posting#i want to text her so bad right now and i KNOW what a bad idea that is#bc im gonna look clingy#and apparently one of my friends briefly dated her and like shes skittish about affection and like#idk i feel like our bantery dynamic is really great and straddles the line between affection and just annoying each other well#but like what if she feels differently#her life is falling apart a bit and i dont wanna add stress#but i actually legitimately really like her and like#honestly im definitely spiraling a bit rn and i know that#but idk when I'll see her again#and im like... having this awful sinking feeling that thats bc im not going to#bc she's not actually into me and like she is just annoyed by me#so all i wanna do rn is text her and invite her over for tomorrow night but like.#i am forcing myself not to text until she texts first#and BEFORE we did shit she was often texting first so i have to hope she will again#but i feel very scared and broken and alone rn#and i also am afraid of driving away ny friends by bothering them too much#so like im just alone about this#im crying in the dark in my room listening to music and it occurs to me that i should probably only be listening to music#that already is crying music for me tbh#so i dont ruin something else i love for myself#what the fuck is wrong with me
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Ok now that my rage is mostly past i am in more lalaland. Glad to put my energy towards being happy and improving my life with my friends that i love and trust
#i am still miffed that this was public but#it occurred to me it might also be bothering me so intensely because#it seemed we both agreed to move past each other and let go for now#n sure maybe this is what he needed to do to let go#it just feels kinda inflammatory.#but its only as much as i engage it with. which i dont plan to do#i hope my silence helps him reflect#and theres also just#a certain irony to the whole thing that i spent many many years trying to give advice on their relationship trying to help only for nothing#and now this very fresh very new issue suddenly is relationship breaking and hes already given up trying to help#lol#i guess he knows how i feel now though#idk#if anything better for him i guess to cut it off now rather than try repeatedly like i did (unless this already is repeat)#it also just feels like#he really doesnt even know who i am as a person#even after all this time#i dont want to say hes just wrong about everything because i definitely did say some dumb shit in the last few months#but it just feels like hes not even trying#or there are things hes not telling me#i keep telling my side explaining myself explaining what i mean and he just keeps. dare i use this word. Assuming things about me#anytime i have a conversation with him i just feel like im running in a circle i dont understand and i never know how to feel about anythin#and i dont understand what hes talking about what he wants what hes really feeling whats going wrong#and... comparing that to the friends i have now#its just even more obvious they're a lot better for me#i dont think friends are supposed to make you feel like this
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could you do a batfam x oblivious reader who’s so close to finding out they’re a vigilante, but she doesn’t even know if that makes sense? like nightwing crawling in through the window when he thought she was asleep, only for her to be awake and go “wrong house?” not realizing it’s her boyfriend.. who thought she was asleep
this made me laugh. very good thinking brains y'all have
Masterlist
Oblivious
Dick Grayson
The sound of your window sliding open prompts you to look up from where you lie your head on the pillow. You can't seem to get to sleep and maybe it's a good thing— you grab for the lamp on the bedside table and raise it high over your head.
Climbing through the window, however, is not a common thief. It's Nightwing.
"What are you doing here?"
The vigilante freezes, slowly looking up to meet your eyes. "I was told there was domestic abuse occurring in this apartment," he says smoothly. "You have a boyfriend?"
"Yeah, why?"
"Where is he?"
You look over to Dick's spot on the bed and only just now do you realise it's empty. There's a note written on paper that reads, OUT TO GET FOOD.
"He's grocery shopping."
"Ah, wrong apartment, then. Sorry to bother you." The vigilante then ducks outside.
Jason Todd
A loud crash prompts you to wake up— far earlier than you're used to. The sun isn't even up yet. Glancing to the side of your bed, you forget Jason's out on a business trip, what ever his business is.
You carefully climb out of bed, creeping to the bedroom door and slowly pushing it open. In your living stands Red Hood himself, dismantling an assault rifle.
"What are you doing in my house?"
The vigilante whips his head around, frozen like a deer in headlights. There's a long few minutes of silence where the two of you stare at each other.
"Gun's not working. I'll be out in a minute, just need to fix it. My apologies."
"Oh," you say, shrugging your shoulders. "Stay safe, then."
Red Hood nods, watching you return to your bed with a quiet sigh.
Tim Drake
Waking up at your usual time and kissing Tim gently on the forehead, almost as a reward for sleeping.
After eating breakfast as quickly as you could, you were surprised to see Tim still asleep and give him another gentle kiss, this time on the nose.
You've only got half an hour until you have to go to work, so you rush to the bathroom to get ready.
The Red Robin suit is draped over the shower wall, unmistakeable.
In your bathroom.
"Tim?" You shout, forgetting your boyfriend's need to sleep. "Tim!"
"What?" he replies groggily, slowly getting out of bed.
"The Red Robin suit is in my bathroom."
"Oh, uh, he asked me to clean it for him. We're sort of like, friends. I guess. It's weird."
"You never told me that," you say.
"It's a recent thing. Sorry."
You shrug and get ready for work, ignoring the suit at is it hangs in your bathroom.
Damian Wayne
"Emergency at work," your boyfriend had said. He gets a lot of those, you think. "Be back in the morning. Maybe later."
Now, going to sleep late— towards midnight, where Damian would have already dragged you into bed— you realised you didn't have on of his shirts to sleep in.
When he wasn't with you to sleep, you always sleep in one of his shirts.
You begin scrummaging through his wardrobe— which you never do— only for a shirt. You find one, your favourite black one, and pull it out.
Underneath the shirt, revealed as you yank it from the drawer, is a katanna.
"Oh. Oh."
It's late. You're tired. You've got the shirt.
It's probably just an antique piece anyway. Rich people have all sorts of things.
#batfamily x reader#damian wayne x reader#batfam#jason todd x reader#dick grayson x reader#tim drake x reader
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Medieval Scorpions Effortpost
So yesterday I reblogged this post featuring an 11th-century depiction of the Apocalypse Locusts from Revelations, noting the following incongruity as another medieval scorpion issue:
The artist, as you can see, has interpreted "tails like scorpions" as meaning "glue cheerful-looking snakes to their butts".
Anyway, it occurred to me that the medieval scorpion thing might not be as widely known as I think it is, and that Tumblr would probably enjoy knowing about it if it isn't known already. So, finding myself unable to focus on the research I'm supposed to be doing, I decided to write about this instead. I'll just go ahead and put a cut here.
As we can see in the image above, at least one artist out there thought a "scorpion" was a type of snake. Which makes it difficult to draw "tails like scorpions", because a snake's tail is not that distinctive or menacing (maybe rattlesnakes, but they don't have those outside the Americas). So they interpreted "tails like scorpions" as "the tail looks like a whole snake complete with head".
Let me tell you. This is not a problem unique to this illustration.
See, people throughout medieval Europe were aware of scorpions. As just alluded to, they are mentioned in the Bible, and if the people producing manuscripts in medieval Europe knew one thing, it was Stuff In Bible. They're also in the Zodiac, which medieval Europe had inherited through classical sources. However, let's take a look at this map:
That's Wikipedia's map of the native range of the Scorpiones order, i.e., all scorpion species. You may notice something -- the range just stops at a certain northern latitude. Pretty much all of northern Europe is scorpion-free. If you lived in the north half of Europe, odds were good you had never seen a scorpion in your life. But if you were literate or educated at all, or you knew they were a thing, because you'd almost certainly run across them being mentioned in texts from farther south. And those texts wouldn't bother to explain what a scorpion was, of course -- everyone knows scorpions, right? When was the last time you stopped to explain What Is Spiders?
So medieval writers and artists in northern Europe were kind of stuck. There was all this scorpion imagery and metaphor in the texts they liked to work from, but they didn't really know what a scorpion was. Writers could kind of work around it (there's a lot of "oh, it's a venomous creature, moving on"), but sometimes they felt the need to break it down better. For this, of course, they'd have to refer to a bestiary -- but due to Bestiary Telephone and the persistent need of bestiary authors to turn animals into allegories, one of the only visual details you got on scorpions was that they... had a beautiful face, which they used to distract people in order to sting them.
And look. I'm not here to yuck anyone's yum, but I would say that a scorpion's face has significant aesthetic appeal only for a fairly small segment of the population. I'm sure you could get an entomologist to rhapsodize about it a bit, but your average person on the street will not be entranced by the face of a scorpion. So this did not help the medieval Europeans in figuring out how to depict scorpions. There was also some semantic confusion -- see, in some languages (such as Old and Middle English), "worm" could be a general term for very small animals of any kind. But it also could mean "serpent".* So there were some, like our artist at the top of the post, who were pretty sure a scorpion was a snake. This was probably helped along by the fact that "venomous" was one of the only things everyone knew about them, and hey, snakes are venomous. Also, Pliny the Elder had floated the idea that there were scorpions in Africa that could fly, and at least one author (13th-century monk Bartholomaeus Anglicus) therefore suggested that they had feathers. I don't see that last one coming up much, I just share it because it's funny to me.
*English eventually resolved this by borrowing the Latin vermin for very small animals, using the specialized spelling wyrm for big impressive mythical-type serpents, and sticking with the more specific snake for normal serpents.
Some authors, like the anonymous author of the Ancrene Wisse, therefore suggested that a scorpion was a snake with a woman's face and a stinging tail. (Everyone seemed to be on the same page with regards to the fact that the sting was in the tail, which is in fact probably the most recognizable aspect of scorpions, so good job there.) However, while authors could avoid this problem, visual artists could not. And if you were illustrating a bestiary or a calendar, including a scorpion was not optional. So they had to take a shot at what this thing looked like.
And so, after this way-too-long explanation, the thing you're probably here for: inaccurate medieval drawings of scorpions. (There are of course accurate medieval drawings of scorpions, from artists who lived in the southern part of Europe and/or visited places where scorpions lived; I'm just not showing you those.) And if you find yourself wondering, "how sure are you that that's meant to be a scorpion?" -- all of these are either from bestiaries or from calendars that include zodiac illustrations.
11th-century England, MS Arundel 60. (Be honest, without the rest of this post, if I had asked you to guess what animal this was supposed to be, would you have ever guessed “scorpion”?)
12th-century Germany, "Psalter of Henry the Lion". (Looks a bit undercooked. Kind of fetal.)
12th-century France, Peter Lombard's Sententiae. (Very colorful, itsy bitsy claws, what is happening with that tail?)
12th-century England, "The Shaftesbury Psalter". (So a scorpion is some sort of wyvern with a face like a duck, correct?)
13th-century France, Thomas de Cantimpré's Liber de natura rerum. (I’d give them credit for the silhouette not being that far off, but there’s a certain bestiary style where all the animals kind of look like that. Also note how few of these have claws.)
13th-century England, "The Bodley Bestiary". (Mischievous flying squirrel impales local man’s hand, local man fails to notice.)
13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (A scorpion is definitely either a mouse or a fish. Either way it has six legs.)
13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Wait, no, it’s a baby theropod, and it has two legs. (Yes, this is the same manuscript, that’s not an error, this artist did four scorpions and no two are the same.))
13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Actually it’s a lizard with tiny ears and it has four legs.)
13th-century England, Harley MS 3244. (Now that we’re at the big fancy illustration, I think I’ve got it — it’s like that last one, but two legs, longer ears, and a less goofy face. Also I’ve decided it’s not pink anymore, I think that was the main problem.)
13th-century England, MS Kk.4.25. (A scorpion is a flat crocodile with a bear’s head.)
13th-century England, "The Huth Psalter". (Wyvern but baby! Does not seem to be enjoying biting its own tail.)
13th-century England, MS Royal 1 D X. (This triangular-headed gentlecreature gets the award for “closest guess at correct limb configuration”. If two of those were claws, I might actually believe this artist had seen a scorpion before, or at least a picture of one.)
13th-century England, "The Westminster Psalter". (A scorpion is the offspring of a wyvern and a fawn.)
13th-century England, "The Rutland Psalter". (Too many legs! Pull back! Pull back!)
13th or 14th-century France, Bestiaire d'amour rimé. (This is very similar to the fawn-wyvern, but putting it in an actual Scene makes it even more obvious that you’re just guessing.)
14th-century Netherlands, Jacob van Maerlant's Der Naturen Bloeme. (More top-down six-legged guys that look too furry to be arthropods.)
14th-century Germany, MS Additional 22413. (That is clearly a turtle.)
14th-century France, Matfres Eymengau de Beziers's Breviari d'amor. (Who came up with that head shape and what was their deal?)
15th-century England, "Bestiary of Ann Walsh". (Screw it, a scorpion is a big lizard that glares at you for trying to make me draw things I don’t know about.)
I've spent way too much time on this now. End of post, thank you to anyone who got all the way down here.
#medieval#medieval creatures#medieval art#scorpions#medieval scorpions#manuscript#medieval manuscripts#illuminated manuscript
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can you pls write something about reader being sick and like not the cough and cold kind of sick- like really really sick, and sukuna realising how much he doesn't want to lose her to this sickness and how if she dies, he'll be alone again..🥺
You have NO idea how much I love this idea!!! I did go a bit overboard with it cause I love suffering though 👍 Still, this was SO much fun to write and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!
Vows
Sukuna x Reader
Word count: 4.5k
Tags/warnings: gn! reader, true form! sukuna, master/pet dynamic, fluff but most importantly ANGST, mentions of weight loss, mentions of violence, implied nsfw, reader dies in the end :( (sorry)
It's not the first time Sukuna has been made aware of your mortality. He recalls many instances when he's been reminded that you are human. Finite. The first time he wrapped his hand around your throat and squeezed with calculation while you were laying under him, and you looked up at him in fear for your life. Your little hand couldn't even wrap around his wrist, much less provide resistance. Or when he'd pull your hair a little too roughly, and hear a crack in your delicate spine. When you'd get sick, and humbly refuse his healing. So little as a tummy ache had you writhing on your bed.
You are so weak, so small, clinging to life like there was anything for you in it, beyond Sukuna. By all means he hates all of these things. So what witchery is this, and why does he care about you so much? Why does he keep you for years, and why does your company bring him comfort he hasn't ever known in his lifetime?
Still, as much as he cares, he doesn't notice when it starts. He's trained you to tolerate pain, after all. It's no wonder you hesitate to tell him. Little things like tummyaches and colds occur to you all the time anyways, and you never complain. Sure, you've grown closer to Sukuna, but he was still your master, and the rules he instilled in you from the start were always fresh in your mind, not to be crossed. Bothering him with everything that feels off always seemed inappropriate.
And Sukuna is just like that. If you're not screaming or crying, he won't know you're in pain. But he notices that you're acting off. And how he reacts really doesn't help your case, or encourage you to speak up about your condition. ''I don't have all day. What is wrong with you?'', he sneers when he catches you pacing too far behind him.
So you just sleep longer and preserve energy for when you are with him. You don't skip around as much anymore, or spend time doing your hobbies. Food doesn't taste so great anymore. You have a cough that gives you sleepless nights because it just won't calm down. And the time you owe Sukuna starts to feel like an obligation. You start to dread it. Dread slipping up, dread annoying him or failing to satisfy him. Dread being disposable.
When things start getting worse, it's hard to hide it even from him. He was taking you from behind one night, and you were grateful he couldn't see the look on your face. You thought you could do it. Sukuna was always demanding, but he would never force you to do anything. If only you told him before you felt yourself struggling for air, and your chest closing in on itself in tightness. You reached one hand back, frantically grabbing his wrist.
''Feathers, feathers!'', words came out as gasps, and you slumped forward when he let you go. You were panicked and crying by then, this kind of discomfort being foreign even to you, even after weeks of pain behind you. He hovered next to you with a puzzled look on his face. He wasn't even being that rough.
''What's wrong? Tell me.'', he said, and reached his hand to feel the warmth of your tears streaming down your face. He swiped your cheek gently. He didn't seem mad at all. Why didn't you say anything from the start?
''I just feel so sick.'', you muster up in between sobs, and shut your eyes. You were too embarrassed to even look at him.
''I see.''. His hand leaves your face, and he traces it from your neck down your spine. The pain subsided slowly, allowing you to relax and find comfort in his arms.
But the effects of his healing were short lived. Just a week later the feeling of fatigue creeps back into your life. Manageable, but lingering. And the cough persists. And it gets on Sukuna's nerves too. He's been quite patient with you, but his patience was reaching it's limit.
You're sitting by his throne as you often do, and as hard as you try to hold the cough in, you just can't help it. His hand finds the back of your neck and squeezes, turning you to him. And he looks at you with all four, terrifying eyes. ''Can you shut up?''
''I'm sorry, I'm trying -'', you stutter, but just end up coughing more. He doesn't wait for you to stop.
''Get out of here.'', and pushes you away. You stumble down the pile of bones and fall, landing on your hands and knees. You don't remember him being this cruel to you in a long time. You look back at him with teary eyes, and he looks back like the merciless monster he is. The villagers awaiting him moved to make space for your fall, taking note of the tense situation.
That day, Sukuna sends word that he doesn't want to see you until you get better. You're forbidden from going outside again, in fear that that is making your 'cold' worse. It's a lonely week in your room, until Sukuna starts to crave you again. It didn't take him a while, counting the couple days he spent convincing himself he doesn't miss you. He does. So when he sends word for you again, and the servants come back to him saying you're still not feeling well... he's worried. So worried he comes to see it for himself.
Sukuna rarely comes to your room. It's the only space you have for yourself, and he doesn't want to take that away from you. Your room is modest. You have a bed, a carpet, and a couple shelves to house the books he's gifted you. There's a desk where you can eat and read, and a doorway to the garden. There's an empty glass of water and a napkin next to your bed. You're still sleeping, but the door shutting behind him wakes you up, so he doesn't get to enjoy observing you in your natural habitat for long.
It's not the first time doors opening and closing woke you up. But you know this time is different. The servants are always quickly shuffling around the room, cleaning up and moving around. Uraume clanks with plates. There is no noise now, other than your strained breathing and a cough brewing in the back of your throat. Besides, the aura that Sukuna brings with him everywhere he goes is recognizable. Especially to you. Heavy.
You turn around, and meet the gaze of his four eyes. ''Master...'', you struggle to sit up, and even a little action like that has spots forming in your vision. Then a coughing fit hits you. You pick up the napkin and put it to your mouth.
Sukuna sees your whole body strain with the effort of coughing. And when you call him master, even your voice sounds different. He knows your morning voice. He missed hearing it, but this... this is not it. You sit with your head hung low, staring at the napkin between your hands. There's a fresh splatter of blood on it. But Sukuna scares you more than the progression of your illness.
''Are you mad at me?'', you ask timidly, meeting his gaze.
''I'm concerned.", he says and sits next to you. You curl up to make space for him. "Two weeks is a long time for a frail human like you to be sick.", he looks at you, scanning your form up and down.
"I rested and drank every tea Uraume told me to!", your defense mechanism kicks in, and you start babbling.
Sukuna dismisses you with a hand and a pained facial expression. "I know.", he says. His brows are furrowed now, and he's looking at the ground, lost in thought.
You feel guilty for annoying him again. You feel guilty for the whole thing, getting sick, draining the energy it takes him to heal you, robbing him of the time with you that he deserves. Owns. He is very generous with the way he treats you, having all that in mind.
You tug on his sleeve. "I'm sorry, Master... You deserve better.", and you're sobbing again. Sukuna gives you a pathetic look, but smiles as he pulls you into his embrace.
"Silly pet. I can survive a couple weeks without your assistance.", he says, rubbing your shoulder.
You run your fingers against the back of his hand mindlessly, not knowing how to respond. Caressing his knuckles, bones, veins... feeling his nails and their sharp tips against your sensitive skin. When you bring his palm up to your lips, your kiss stains it red with blood.
-
You still sleep with Sukuna sometimes. Less frequently, only on days when you feel well enough, and those are rare. You've lost weight by now, sickness making itself visible on your body. You're sitting on his lap and clinging to your robes, scared that he won't like you as much, that you won't live up to his standards. But Sukuna's demeanor about your illness has changed, as he seemed to sense something unusual about it. He flips you over so gently, like you're made of glass, and peppers kisses from your neck downwards, slowly undressing you as much as you allow him. When he takes you, he's so careful. Constantly checking you're comfortable and enjoying yourself. You feel so loved and relaxed, and pleasure comes so easy when you're in this state. It's not the first time Sukuna is this caring with you in bed, but this time is different. This time you can't help but feel like he's saying goodbye.
He holds you afterwards, tracing his fingers over the ridges of your spine and your shoulders. You were always little in his grasp, but now that he feels your protruding bones under his fingertips, you seem all the more vulnerable.
"Will you kill me?", you ask, breaking the silence.
Sukuna frowns. "Nonsense. Why would I do that?"
There's a gulp in your throat. "It won't be long before I can't even do this. I won't be of any use to you then...", you say.
"Stop.", he says sternly. "There's a lot more to you than what you provide me with in bed."
You smile to yourself, but there's still a hole in your chest. Your statement is still true, and you aren't comforted. But this is Sukuna, and you know that he's offered you quite a lot even with that little bit of reassurance. To your surprise, he speaks again.
"Don't upset yourself. It's been a long time since killing you crossed my mind.", he says. "Save the energy for something else."
You nod and thank him. Just moments later, you're asleep. Quicker than ever before, he notes. You usually love it when he lets you cuddle and talk to him. You would force your eyes open when you were sleepy, just to enjoy it longer.
He feels guilty. He's your master, he's responsible for your well being. Yet nothing he does seems to help you long term. Healing you is temporary and he knows that without accessing the source, it will never work. If he could, he would find what was making you sick and rip it out of you with his bare hands, crush it with the force of his palm. He would have to look deeper, open you, and for once, he thinks he can't open a human being. He thinks of you trashing, screaming, and worst of all, looking into his eyes. Just the thought of you like that makes his chest feel like a gaping cavity. Worst of all, he's sure you would let him. He's sure you would forgive him for spilling your blood, and find comfort in his arms again. If you survived, that is. What has he done to you? And to himself?
Now, your head rests on his chest, and you're snoring lightly. For once, a repetitive noise like that doesn't annoy him. For once, he wishes he could listen to it every night. One day, that noise will be the only thing audibly confirming you're still alive.
-
Months pass and you're only getting worse. You barely leave your room now, too weak to even do so. You eat little, and it's showing in your sunken cheeks and eyes. You feel yourself withering away, loosing color, drying like a dying flower. Sukuna is in grief. He struggles to look at you, and visiting you falls heavy on him every time. He always finds himself thinking afterwards. Regretting that he let himself get this attached, wishing that he could simply forget you. But it doesn't work that way.
He goes to see you, after avoiding you for a week. He's Sukuna, he doesn't have any shame. You're sleeping, like you usually are when he comes to visit you. Your snoring is laboured, and it sounds painful. This time, the doors and the silence don't wake you up. He watches you, curled up under a stack of blankets, rising and falling with your struggles to breathe. How foolish he was, to think forgetting you would be as easy as avoiding you for days. How evil he was, trying to forget you while you are still alive under his wing, still his responsibility. Still his.
He sits next to you and leans over you, fingertips ghosting over your face. The snoring stops and you flutter your eyes open, turning in bed and feeling his body next to yours. You smirk at him, eyes adjusting to the light, and smile when you recognize him. ''Master.'', your arms wrap around his neck as you welcome him, your voice dry, but lively as you beckon him closer. ''I missed you.''.
He comes down to plant a kiss to your forehead. ''I missed you too, darling.''. Oh, the things that escape his mouth when he's alone with you. He cups your face, enjoying how much healthier you look with a smile on your face. ''Feeling any better?'', he rubs your cheek, lingering closely above your face.
You nod, but both of you know you only feel better because you saw him. Still, the little surge of happiness that brings you gives you more energy than you've had the whole week. You wiggle to the edge of the bed, making space and inviting him to join you. Sukuna lies down, hooking one arm underneath your neck and pulling you flush against him.
You wrap your arm around him and lean your head against his shoulder. He's still as big as you remember him, unfaltering in the face of your illness. It's comforting. ''You didn't visit in a while. Were you busy?'', you ask, stroking his back. ''How were your days?''
''Monotone.'', he says. ''The villagers bring remedies for you every day, and wish for you to get well.'' It's no wonder. So many times, Sukuna found himself hesitating to kill just because you were sitting on his knee, dressed in something too pretty to be splattered with blood. In the local villages, word spread that you have ''domesticated'' Sukuna. As if such a thing was possible. Or was it?
''Oh?'', you smile. ''I didn't think they would notice my absence.''. You always were supposed to be Sukuna's accessory and nothing more. Remedies and good wishes make it sound like you're more important than just a pet. So it really is that obvious...
''They did.'', he says, and lowers his head, brushing his nose against your face. ''Some took that as an opportunity to gift me new pets.''
You blink at him, a bit taken aback by his honesty. You keep smiling anyways. ''Did you take any?'', you ask, and he sees nothing but genuine curiosity in your eyes. The truth is, you've had a lot of time to think about your place in Sukuna's mansion. You knew, especially in sickness, that you were never entitled to exclusivity with him. You knew that at some point you would have to be replaced, just by the virtue of being a mortal. A human, who would age and become ugly, wrinkled and useless. You were just unlucky enough to meet this fate sooner than you should've.
Sukuna sighs, the weight of the conversation shifting to him. ''Not to bed, no.'', he says.
You're quiet while you think of what to say. You still have a habit of picking words when you're with Sukuna, but the times when he would punish you for improper formulation are far behind you. "Why not?", you settle. You hope the implication is there, that you wouldn't be so mad even if he did.
Why not? Because he thinks it might break him. Because the image of someone else in your place, under him, feels unnatural and wrong. He thinks the guilt might eat him alive. For once in centuries, someone else's needs come before Sukuna's. He is gone, so far gone. You've raised his standards, and he's not sure anyone he takes now will be able to live up to them. Besides, training a new pet to fit your mold would take years, and even then... He couldn't train someone to love him. Not like you do.
''I wouldn't want you to hold back because of me.'', you say, and he realizes he's been quiet for too long. Years ago, if you dared to imply that Sukuna would do such a thing as hold back because of you, that he cared, you would've been minced meat ready for dinner. Now, he looks down at you tenderly when you say it. Well, a tender look from Sukuna is a docile one. You've gotten used to the way that Sukuna communicates love. Subtly, innocuously.
''Worry about getting well, pet.'', he shuts down the conversation, and moves away from you, sitting back on the bed. ''Any wishes? Food? Activities?'', he asks, and feels your forehead with the back of his hand.
Food? No, but... ''I'd like you to stay, please.'', you say, and take his hand with the two of yours, feeling it up with your thumbs.
Sukuna resists the urge to roll his eyes, knowing the thought of annoying him would upset you greatly. ''That's a given. Anything else?''
You pretend to think, then just babble your favorite food. Sukuna takes your order to Uraume. But when he comes back, you're already asleep again. He waits by your side, but you don't wake, so eventually he leaves. By the evening, the plate of your favorite food remains untouched.
-
You can't leave the bed on your own anymore. Sukuna carries you outside when you're feeling good enough. You barely have the strength to latch onto him securely. Still, it's hard to slip out of the grasp of his four arms. He says you've gotten pale. You lay in his lap and bask in the sun, while he tells you about his day or reads a book out loud for you to enjoy. You wish you could talk to him more, but your voice leaves you as days of endless coughing wreck your throat. No herbs and teas ease your condition anymore. You wait for your final day.
And Sukuna doesn't know when he's given up on the idea that you might get better. But he starts spending whole days with you, leaving your side only to sleep in his bed. He tends to almost all your needs personally. You think that if you asked him to get on his knees for you, he would. He is not familiar with this ache that brews in his chest when he looks to his side and doesn't see you there. It feels violating. To be as powerful as he is, and yet completely helpless in the face of the sickness that drains you in front of his very eyes.
He plays with your thinning hair one morning, and you look at him from his lap, as adoringly as always. ''Isn't it funny?.'', you say, and he snaps out of his thoughts to look at you. ''I always imagined dying by your hand.'', you kiss his hand again, planting your dry, blue lips against his knuckles. ''Who would have thought?''.
You, you little human. You made him feel like a fool, like a coward. You made him feel powerless. Who could ever get away unscathed with making Sukuna feel like this? The thought of killing you now, even out of mercy, fills him with horror. He thinks he couldn't live carrying the burden of your death on his back. It's already hard for him as is.
When he's not with you, he withers away in his room, waiting. And when the servants finally come, and tell him you're at your last strengths, he feels as tense as he feels relieved. The servants shake in fear of his reaction, and he simply dismisses them. In a thousand years of his existence, he doesn't remember having to prepare to enter a room. His hand trembles as he brings it up to push the door open. He dreads what awaits him inside.
He expected blood, hysteria, chaos, yet there's none of it when he walks in. Just the pained noises of your breathing. A servant, your favorite, sits by your side and wipes sweat off your forehead. She talks to you in a comforting tone and pats your head gently. When he walks in the room, she lowers her head and moves to leave. It's only a second, but he sees the sad look on your face. ''Stay.'', he orders, and the servant bows and thanks him.
You move your attention to him, raising your hand to greet him weakly. He picks it up and bends down to kiss it. There's tears in your eyes as he settles into a seat next to you, and you open your mouth in an attempt to say something.
''Easy now.'', he shushes you, and helps you into his lap. You lean back, looking at him through a blur. His features appear even more doubled through the tears, and you still find his beauty mesmerizing. Your master. Your own little god and protector. Although he regrets it, you've never claimed the title of his spouse. Yet, he still stuck by your side, until parted by death. In sickness and in health.
He wipes your tears, and the mouth he conjures onto his hand kisses your forehead. One set of his hands caresses your face, the other massages the tension out of your bony shoulders. Sukuna knows how important it is for you to pass in peace. He doesn't want to curse you, or have despair turn you into a curse. "Relax now.", his voice is so soothing, as if lulling you to sleep. "It won't be long". You weep. What did an ordinary human like you do to deserve this honor? To be comforted on their death bed by a god. To be guided to death by him.
"Master.", you sob. "I'm so scared..."
Delicate touch against your skin. Sharp nails grazing your cheek ever so slightly, just barely enough to make their presence known. "Have no fear.", Sukuna looms over you like a snowdrop. "Where you go now, pain won't follow.". You speak to him a little longer. Tell him all the things you always wanted to tell him, but were scared of the consequences. Dangerous words, ones that were rarely associated with Sukuna. Love. And Sukuna is attentive, so human. Your blinking slows and you find comfort in his voice, as he returns every loving word back to you. Your pained breathing follows, and your eyelids are so heavy. But the sight of him is so hypnotizing, you wish you never had to look away. "You are so brave, my little dove. Go now, be free.". You were too good for this wretched palace anyways. The sight of him is etched in your memory as you close your eyes. "It was a pleasure to have you by my side.", you listen, feeling control over your body slip through your fingers. When you can't move, or feel his touch, you still hear his calm voice. "When you're ready, come back to me. I'll be waiting for your return.". Then everything is quiet, for you and for him. The servants cries are muffled by the sheets, where she has her head pressed by your side.
The hallways, silent except for the busy tapping of feet. Outside, the wind blows petals off of blooming flowers, leaving them bare and stranded. Autumn is here to carry you away.
Servants hold their breath when Sukuna walks by. One wrong look at him and the walls would be painted red. Just like before. Before you. And it's not long before Sukuna looks like a monster again - red eyes and a permanent frown etched on his face. Villagers bring bouquets, and lay them to the right of his throne, where you used to sit. He stares them all down, and only for a moment thinks that maybe, humans are not the scum he thought they were. But then he remembers, they only mourn you because you held him back from his destructive tendencies. Scum.
And he kills again. The first is a villager from afar, where news of your passing hasn't reached. Ripped to shreds for mentioning you. The women who screamed, their blood soaks the carpets and seeps through the wooden floor, dripping down to the cellars. He feels like himself again, unhinged, unbeatable.
Until the day is over, and he goes back to his empty room. His cold, empty bed, and the old habit of reaching for you in his sleep, only to grab nothing instead. And the crocheted figures of the two of you on his nightstand, watching him as he struggles to sleep alone. He can't bear it. So he leaves, and doesn't come back for days, weeks, months.
Smoke clouds the skies on the horizon once again, after years and years of peace and clarity. As far as the eye stretches, the world will know of Sukuna's wrath. But as thrilling as it feels to conquer again, when the village is burned and ash covers the grass on the ground, the thought of you still lingers. Your devastated eyes the first time he's killed before you. The first time he's felt guilty about his monstrous nature. When he comes back, no one's warm embrace awaits him. No one's there to brighten up his day. No amount of blood shed and villages burned replace the emptiness you left behind in his heart.
The grief settles, and sits heavy in Sukuna's chest, as he assumes position in his lonely throne again, and gazes at the row of people waiting to beg, talk, offer... bore him. Another eternity of boredom. An eternity of picking through thousands of humans, in vain hopes of finding you again. In vain hopes of recognizing you, even if it's lifetimes from now, when the last memory of your face has already faded from his mind. When generations change, and the thought of a monster like Sukuna being capable of tenderness vanishes. When the fire in his chest, ignited by love, is already a memory so distant, that recalling it feels surreal.
Maybe he will forget you by then. Maybe times will harden him again, and the idea of a pet becoming his lover will make him laugh. But for now, the thought of finding you in a crowd, taking you in his arms and never letting go, is his comfort and safe place. For now, he will wait for you. As long as it takes, like a stone, unyielding against the passing of time.
#sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna x reader#ryomen sukuna#jjk#jjk x reader#jjk angst#jjk fluff#sukuna fluff#sukuna angst#sukuna#soft sukuna#i love bastardizing sukuna in my fics#also this is totally leading me into a part 2 w reincarnated reader#yes weve heard it a thousand times#idc it makes me happy
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