#sickly ff | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

skiiyoomin · 8 months

Note

I feel like there isn't enough for Newt from The Maze Runner Series. Could you please write for him?

I´m sooo sorry I took so long to answer but it´s finally here!! (ive been having huge writers block so i hope this is good enough) I totally think there's not enough tmr ff!! we have to revive the fandom 🥹

my friends helped think of the story so props to them!! :D

warnings: slight violence? swearing, gn reader! oblivious reader

RULES !!

DO NOT COPY OR REPOST MY WORK PLEASE

REQUESTS: OPEN

NAVIGATION

WHO DO I WRITE FOR?

Summary: You were a Runner who had the unfortunate luck of getting bitten by a Griever. You had assumed your death, but when you woke up, you were in a completely different Glade, surrounded by completely different people, by boys.

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

From afar | Newt

Your feet pounded on the hard ground, your heavy pants echoing through the hard rock walls. You turned your head back every so often, the sound of screeching of metal on rock not much further behind you, forcing you to quicken your pace.

A mere few minutes ago, you were peacefully resting on one of the many walls inside the maze, you were unaware of the Griever close by until it was too late. You could have run straight back to the Glade, but you couldn't risk letting the Griever close to the doors and putting in danger the rest of the girls.

Your lungs burned, terribly so, but you didn't stop. You couldn't. It all backfired when you turned the corner and found yourself in a dead end. You heard the roar of the Griever too close for comfort and without thinking, you ran straight to the end wall, grabbing onto one of the many vines and pulling yourself upward.

You looked down when you deemed yourself to be high enough, a mistake really, because in a flash, the Griever snapped the vine you were holding onto. The fall felt like it went by in slow motion, and in those few seconds, you quickly assumed your death. You felt a sharp sting on your side. Did the Griever sting you? Well, you were a goner anyway, what did it matter. Your vision began to blur, black spots engulfing your sight until all you saw was pitch black, and then, unconsciousness.

Minho ran around the maze, seeing nothing out of the ordinary, as per usual. When he turned a corner, his feet abruptly stopped.

"What the..."

A few steps in front of him laid a body, a female body. As he slowly stepped closer, he immediately took note of your sickly looking skin. His eyes landed on a spot on your arm, or rather a bite. There were dark protruding veins going up your arm, the sight bad enough to make anyone grimace.

That's when Minho snapped out of it and came to a quick realizations. You were stung by a Griever. But how did you get here? Where did you come from? Who are you?

Despite the thousands of questions flying through his mind, he knew if he didn't take you back to the Glade you'd be a goner. He gently lifted you in his arms and raced back as fast as he could.

As expected, he got a lot of stares and was asked many questions he simply could not answer.

"For the last time Alby, I don't know. I found her laying on the ground, what was i supposed to do, leave her there?"

Under all the sudden chaos, Newt, a natural diplomat in these situations, was uncharacteristically quiet. He simply did not know how to feel about any of it.

Eventually you recovered, gave your side of the story to Alby and began your new life in a new place. Undoubtedly it was hard. Recovering from the sting was a process filled with agony and confusing thoughts. Settling down in a place full of boys whose horomones skyrocketed was just as hard. Despite the uncomfortableness of it all, you began to befriend the right people and soon enough you had gained your place as a Runner.

Through all of this, Newt had made sure to stay far far away from you, watching you without making a move.

"You're gonna scare her off if you keep looking at her so much"

Frypans voice had startled him out of his daze, his eyes moving from you to him in bewilderment.

"What are you on about"

Frypan shrugs at this "You keep staring at her, if you like her that much you should just talk to her"

Now he was bewildered for sure, like you?? How is that even possible. He debated in his mind, Frypans words leaving him in a confused state. He was sure he didn't like you, yet why is your smile so heart warming, your hair looks especially nice today too.

Crap, maybe he does like you after all.

Little did he know, you were having a similar conversation in one of the many tables.

"He totally makes eyes at you, I don't know what you're talking about!"

Minho exclaims, rather loudly at that, making you slap your hands over his mouth to shut him up.

"Shut it you slinthead, he's gonna hear if you talk so loud"

Minho simply rolls his eyes before saying "Good, maybe that'll have you make a move"

You scoff "He probably doesn't even like me, he barely talks to me!!

And just like that, you were both in a never ending spiral of confusion and overthinking thoughts. And obviously, everyone noticed, with how obvious you two were how could they not?

And obviously Minho decided the best thing to do was to set up a plan.....for everyones sake.

Your days had started off normal. You got to work, went out to the Maze, came back and jotted down what you had seen. Nothing out of the ordinary.

As you were finishing up in the Map Room, Minho had bursted in, making you jump and look at him in surprise.

"I need you to help me, come quick"

Without much of a question, you followed him until you reached the Homestead. As you walked up the stairs, you stopped in front of a small unfamiliar room. Minho pushed open the door, holding on to the door knob and waving his hand, motioning you to walk inside. Before you even realized what was going on, he had slammed the door shut, locking you inside the room.

You whirled around to face the door, a look of perplexion on your face. You heard Minhos loud voice boom from the other side

"I´m not letting you out until you talk to each other!!"

If possible, your confusion only grew as you mumbled "Each other?"

"He means us"

You heard a voice from behind, the British accent all too familiar. Turning around, you were met with the sight of Newt sitting on the floor with an unimpressed look on his face. You felt the all too familiar feeling of your heart hammering in your chest. Taking a deep breathe, you sigh shakily as you sit down beside him.

You rest your head on the wall behind you, your thoughts wandering and your brows furrowing more and more.

"What do you think he meant by talking to each other?"

Newt glanced at you for a second, then, unexpectedly, he leaned forward and placed his thumb between your brows, gently rubbing the area until your frown completely disappeared.

"I don´t know but what I do know is that you´re gonna get wrinkles if you frown so much"

In a dazed like motion, he traced his thumb over your brow and down your temple until his entire hand was cupping your cheek. Your cheeks flushed under his hand, wide eyes staring deep into his brown ones.

However, as soon as the moment was there it was gone just as quickly as Newt backed away, apologies flying his mouth.

Your hands moved before you could even process what you were doing. You cupped his face in your hands, forcing him to look at you.

"Stop apologizing you idiot! I don´t mind..."

You mumbled the last part in embarrasement, your eyes trained on the floor underneath you. The feeling of his rough calloused hands pulling yours away from his cheeks made your eyes shoot back up at him in surprise. You thought he would push you away, instead, he pulled you close until your head was resting on his shoulder, his long arms wrapping around your waist.

"Then...do you mind if I do this?"

When he felt you shake your head, he breathed out a sigh of relief, his tense muscles relaxing, letting you nuzzle your face deeper against the crook of his neck. You were in that position for what felt like ages when Newt called out your name. Moving your head so you could look at him better, he took this as a sign to continue.

"I- I don´t know how to say this without making it awkward, but...well I always get this feeling around you, like my hearts going to fly out of my chest...or how I get all jittery"

As he rambles, you push your head back to fully look at him, your cheeks flaring up at his words.

"What I´m trying to say is I really really like you"

In a flash, you had cupped his face with your hands and slammed your lips to his. Whatever words he had were gone once he felt your soft lips on his. When air called, you pulled away, breathing deeply.

"I like you too Newt"

You´ve never seen someone smile as much as he did in that moment, dazzling smile taking your breath away. This time it was him who leaned in for a kiss, deeper this time and full of passion.

If you had known it would be like this you would have kissed him long long ago. Guess you have Minho to thank now.

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

BONUS!!

"You think he asked her out already?" Asked Minho.

"They´ve been in there for a while that´s for sure" Was Albys reply.

"Do you think they´re-"

"DON´T finish that sentence Minho"

"I don´t think I would´ve wanted to know anyway" He says with a grimace.

137 notes · View notes

moonbreezes · 2 months

Text

Things they would have made Mary and George infinitely better (or funnier) in my humble opinion

- historically accurate pet names (oh come on you’ve had access to those letters and speeches shame on you), literally why there is no my wife my child my steenie my husband my dad my gossip your dog your wife your child ETCETERA

- SWEAR BOX SWEAR BOX SWEAR BOX

- “my little beagle” *wink wonk*

- james moping around on a horseback

- any of James’s bestsellers being mentioned

-sickly Georgie (literally trauma bonding through sickness and period accurate “medicine”) he was ill every other month why not use it

- CARRIAGE INCIDENT

- gunpowder plot mention?????

- selling land and titles in Ireland (literally you have sandy why not make her slap George for selling pieces of her homeland ffs)

- letters??????????

- one singular mention of 30 years war / princess Elizabeth (rip liz)

- at least one impeachment oh come onnnnn it would be so much fun to see George sweat

- Robbie telling George to fuck off when he asked for *guidance*

- Robbie and Frances pardoned by yours truly james

(and less Mary - this too would make this show infinitely better)

- looking for the pot of gold (mention) and the subsequent assassination attempt

- witch trials (I really don’t count the Somerset trial in the show)

#mary & george #george villiers #king james vi and i #king charles i #mary villiers #Robert Carr #prince Henry Frederick #Elizabeth Stuart #the lack of swear box hurts most #and mopey james #why did james not mention ANY of his works #it’s just my silly little opinion for the laugh #please don’t eat me alive

21 notes · View notes

universalwhoreofthesouth · 1 year

Text

Cave In - H.HJ

Pairing: non idol!Hyunjin X gn sorceress!reader

Genre: very light smut

Warning(s): potion/syrup drinking, consensual drugging (aphrodisiacs usage), mentions of magic, mentions of pet names (prince, baby, master, etc.), mentions the color system, sub! Hyunjin, dom! reader

A/N: this is my first ff I posted on here 🤡

You tapped the bottle against his plump lips, his mouth opened obediently. You lightly pour the syrup in his mouth, watching the rosy liquid fill his mouth deliciously.

You were in your private study, where you kept all your magical artifacts and potions stored safely. You were doing your monthly check up until you felt two familiar arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Prince, what did I tell you about coming into my study without my permission?” you lightly scold, knowing that you can’t be mad at Hyunjin for long.

“I’m sorry y/n~. I wanted to see you and maybe try out the thing today?”your eyebrow quirked up, back still facing him.

“What thing? I may be a sorceress but I can’t read your mind baby”

“The box” he mumbles, burying his face into your neck out of shyness, you giggle.

“The what?” you tease, earning a whine out of the red head.

“The box with the heart lock” You knew exactly which one he was referring to.

It was the last time Hyunjin came into your study (you invited him that time). He began asking you questions about your “nick nacks” and “weird drinks” with curious eyes. He stopped talking, which surprised you a bit until you looked at him, seeing his eyes glow at the sight of a shiny silver box with a pink heart as the lock (that you forgot to store away). You quickly turned his attention away but of course Hyunjin being the curious man he is, started bombarding you with questions about the box. You kept your answer vague and simple, stating whenever he’s ready he can see what’s inside but just not today.

“Ah yes, that one. I didn’t expect you to come to me about it today. I am quite busy” you didn’t have to face him to know that he was pouting. He hated when you were busy and you hated that you spoiled him so much. Ever since Hyunjin met you, he felt as if he unlocked heaven’s gates himself. You always kept him afloat, giving him love that he has never seen and could possibly grant any wish he asked for without a second thought, that’s what he loved about you. That’s why he needed you.

“I know you’re busy but pleaseee. I’ll be good for you, master” as if the devil came down and wrapped his wing around you, tempting you to give into your lust, you caved in. You placed your clipboard down on the shelf in front of you.

“Grab it for me” like an obedient puppy, he springs into action. He walks over and easily grabs the box, handing it to you with a sickly sweet smile. You walk over to your coffee table, knowing that he was following you, and sit down on your Victorian styled dining chair that was a gift to you many moons ago before snapping the key into existence.

You placed the key into the lock, enjoying the sound of the gear twisting before the box lid pops open, showing the contents inside. It was a small heart shaped glass that held a glowing pink liquid, accompanied by flakes of gold glitter. You turn to Hyunjin and without saying a word, he kneels before you elegantly without fail.

“Are you sure you want to do this angel? We’re still going to use the color system so I know you’re ok, alright?” Hyunjin smiles, he knew he wanted this as soon as he walked into your study but he never got tired of how caring you were in and out of scene.

“Yes master, I want it please” Hyunjin squirms at how quickly your eyes darkened once he gave the okay.

“Come here” you order, popping the bottle cork, the scent of strawberry and roses fill the air. You snap out of your thoughts when you feel Hyunjin place his hands on your knees, a mentioned requirement in case he goes nonverbal (it happens).

“Open” You tapped the bottle against his plump lips, his mouth opened obediently. You lightly pour the syrup in his mouth, watching the rosy liquid fill his mouth deliciously. Your obsession with his mouth drove you crazy and he knew it too, always putting on a show for you. You place your other hand on his Adam's apple, feeling him swallow every drop as you keep pouring until the bottle is empty.

“Good boy” you praise, wiping the excess syrup that missed his lips, tracing the shape of them with your thumb.

“How do you feel baby?” you ask and Hyunjin giggles as a response. You immediately notice how large his pupils grew, meaning that it was working.

“I feel great” he sounded almost drunk (maybe you added too much alcohol in the recipe).

“What’s your color, prince?”

“Green” he giggles once more, putting his head in your lap. You were about to say something until you felt his hands slide up to your covered legs.

“You feel so warm y/n~” he purrs, hands traveling to your inner thighs but you didn’t budge, you both knowing that he can’t do anything without your permission. You sit back and watch his lust start to unfold as if he’s the test subject and you’re the scientist.

“My master is so gorgeous. All mine” he mumbles happily to himself while admiring you from head to toe, making you laugh in amusement. He must be out of it. That was until he blurted: “I want to taste you”.

If you were drinking, you would have choked but yet again he’s under the influence of the lustful drug.

“Is that so?” you rush your fingers through his long red hair, already thinking about how good it’ll be to pull on it.

“Yes please. I wan’ to make you feel good so fucking bad y/n please” He sounded as if he was going to cry if he didn’t pleasure you in the next three minutes so you decided to have pity on the horny boy.

“Ok then, be my guest”

#sub!stray kids #sub!skz #sub!hyunjin #sub!kpop #dom!reader #magic au #first post #Spotify

136 notes · View notes

markantonys · 7 months

Note

for 2 seasons now mat has been barely able to do stuff and has gotten beaten, kidnapped, manipulated & coerced into doing a lot of stuff. i say that, as a reward, he should be allowed to commit some war crimes. especifically against the seanchan. maybe make up for that godawful book thing and change course for it. preferably if it's to make up to walk away from egwene back at the Tower too or smt. LET MY MAN DO SOMETHING, FFS. He's not ONLY some wet cat and I am tired that they don't let him be badass.

readers when the emond's fielders don't already have 14 books' worth of character development and combat skills under their belts after 1 and 7/8 seasons:

how quickly we forget that mat spent the entire first 2 books as a non-badass wet cat who was barely able to do stuff! he spent the whole hunt being dragged around like a sickly victorian child on his deathbed, contributing nothing but dramatic coughs! show!mat has already been given much more emotional depth, competence, and story relevance than his book counterpart had *at this stage of the story*, and they have been pulling him down to his lowest point specifically so that it will be all the sweeter when he has his big shining moment at falme in the finale. we will get ~badass~ mat in due time. relax.

#anonymous #answered #wot show spoilers #wot book spoilers

43 notes · View notes

azureashes · 2 years

Text

A Goddess for the King of Curses

ISTG MINORS DNI FFS PLS

TW: Noncon, double penetration, size kink, corruption kink, group noncon, gaslighting, mindbreaking, torture, DEAD DOVE: DO NOT EAT.

And without further ado, enjoy... if you’re the same kind of crazy as me.

Part two: here.

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

There are syrupy rose petals spreading their sweetness on your tongue as your feet soak in wild honey. White silk is draped loosely over your frame. Baby’s breath is braided into your hair along with golden threads. Looking out from your raised velvet dais, you see rows and rows of villagers, paying obeisance to you.

One by one, the villagers step forward and dip small pieces of bread into the clay pot of honey at your feet. They believe the honey has gained healing properties and your mouth is too full of syrup and roses to tell them otherwise. And who knows, maybe it did have healing properties. Otherwise, what were they bowing and thanking you for? You watch them scoop up the amber liquid and listen to their supplications as they go.

“Please, my Lady,” a tearful old woman begged, her voice raspy with – what? Age, sickness, thirst? You had read of these terms in books but did not quite know what they meant, what they felt like. “My daughter, please let her be healthy again.”

You nod, because speech is reserved only for the most momentous occasions, and hope it’s enough for her. The monthly assembly was nearing its end and only a few stragglers remained. The day was nearly done with, and you were inclined to return to your chambers as soon as possible.

Your gaze had already slipped towards the next supplicant approaching when it happened. The woman reached out and touched the pale skin of your feet. An entreaty that transgressed sacred bounds. “Please, my lady!” the woman wept.

Before you could so much as respond, guards had already dragged the woman away from you. You didn’t know what she was thinking. She had to know that touching you was strictly forbidden, that it would mar your purity, ultimately affecting your ability to protect all of them with your sanctity as Priestess of the Goddess Terra.

The uniformed men showed no mercy, they raised their weapons and beat down on the old woman mercilessly. Your heart twinged with pain. You could understand their concern that the woman’s actions might have endangered the sacred temple and all who resided in its protection. But what was done was done and you abhorred violence.

“Enough!” the word was out of your mouth before you knew it and you were on your feet. Your fiery gaze narrowed at the men, and they hesitated nervously, realizing they had displeased you. Most of the residents of the temple had never even heard you speak and so, when your clear, commanding voice rang out throughout the temple hall everything ground to a halt. Time seemed to stand still.

“Tut, tut,” a sickly sweet voice rang out from behind you. The thick, velvet curtains parted, and the High Chamberlain stepped into view. He wore a tall, cylindrical hat that was inlaid with diamonds, and fashioned out of rich, mulberry velvet brocade. His spindly fingers were adorned with so many golden rings it was a wonder he could lift them at all. In fact, the platinum-haired man with the aquiline nose was so heavily weighed down by gold from head to toe it was a wonder he didn’t melt into a yellow puddle when passing by the kitchens. Only the ornate medallion on his chest, the mark of one anointed by the temple, was of burnished silver.

“You have displeased the Goddess.” His voice was deceptively soft, as was the usual manner for men who knew that they bore the kind of power that did not require them to raise their voices.

The men stood back at once, abashed. They brought their hands stiffly to their sides and bowed their heads in silent apology. The High Chamberlain stepped down the marble stairs with slow, measured steps. He approached them with disdain and gently helped the old woman to her feet.

“The goddess does not condone violence!” the chamberlain called out to the people at large, before turning to the two soldiers. “Do you intend to disgrace the temple by angering the goddess?” His voice was sharp and weighted with cold fury.

“Go. Take your families and leave this place. You are dismissed from your posts.” He turned away from them with a scowl, “Lest you bring damnation upon us all.”

He turned to the assembly with outstretched hands next. “Worshippers, please leave the temple now! The goddess must take her rest after the trying ordeal she has witnessed.” The men and women shouted praises to the goddess who had chosen to defend the common people over her own temple guards as four handsome young eunuchs approached with a palanquin. You were helped to your feet by your handmaidens, young girls who were sworn into your service from an early age and swore never to marry. As they carried you off, you could not help but glance at the two ashen-faced soldiers who looked like they had been sentenced to death. Your stomach twisted uncomfortably. You weren’t sure whether justice had been served. But the High Chamberlain had spoken, and what did you know about the affairs of the people?

“I’m not a goddess.”

The words were out almost as soon as you had reentered your chambers. You meant to sound indignant, but it came out petulant – childish, almost.

The High Chamberlain turned to you with a gentle smile. “I’m a priestess, Sig,” you insisted, “I worship the Goddess."

“Ah, and so you do.” He folded his hands over his staff, gold rings clinking as he did so. “I chose you myself so many years ago, because I saw the light of the goddess within you and knew you to be the next priestess.”

You frowned. You couldn’t help but feel that he was skirting the topic somehow, but you weren’t sure where he was leading. You settled deeper into your cushions and pulled the many silks around you closer. Your chambers were your favorite place in the temple, here you could be at ease, away from watchful eyes. Golden flowerpots littered the floors and tables, each with all sorts of fresh flowers picked from the gardens this morning. You liked to lie back on your silks, close your eyes, and pretend you were among them, on the grass, in the sunshine. Their bouquet’s sweet fragrance washed over you and you could almost believe it to be true.

“But through your worship, dear one, you have entered unto the goddess,” he smiled softly, and lowered his voice as if they were sharing a secret. “And the goddess has entered unto you.”

You pressed a palm to your chest where your heart thumped against your ribcage. Was it true?

“I strongly believe that you are the Chosen Priestess, who will save us all when the Great Evil arises.”

You frowned, unconvinced, “I’m sure you said that to my predecessor as well. And you’ll say it to my successor, too.”

Siegfried burst into amused laughter that ended in a cough. “You never cease to surprise me,” he shook his head. The two of you fell silent for a moment before he continued, “Do you know that your parents did not want to give you into the service of the temple?”

Wide-eyed, you turned to him now, perplexed, “why?”

The old priest shrugged, “Who knows? In their limited knowledge, they didn’t realize what a great honor the Calling that you had received was.”

He rose to his feet and made to leave, “Sometimes we cannot foresee the great glory that fate has yet to bestow upon us.” He winked at you, as if there was some riddle in his words for you to solve. You mulled over his meaning as he headed towards the door. You bit your lip when something puzzled you.

“Master Sig,” you called after him, causing him to stop in the doorway and turn towards you. “How did you change their minds? My parents, I mean?”

“Come now,” the High Chamberlain dismissed with a smile, “that is quite enough of the past.” He nodded at you and was gone.

The Great Evil was coming.

You knew it. You could feel it in your bones.

You spent day and night at the sacred tree begging the goddess for protection. You supplicated unto the pearled staff that only the priestess of the age was ever allowed access to. You told the chamberlain about your worries whenever you had a chance, but he was far more concerned with running the temple than with taking your premonitions seriously. When nearby cities and kingdoms fell, when the sorcerers who were meant to stop the evil were crushed under its feet, when the monsters were only days away, all hell broke loose.

The temples treasures were packed up, the servants and monks rushed to and fro, the chamberlain himself was seen running from place to place, barking orders, his hat askew. Among all the chaos, you merely stood there, lost and confused.

It was as if they had forgotten all about you.

“Sig!” you called out to the chamberlain’s retreating back. He almost stumbled at the sound of your voice and whirled around with a glare in his eyes. It was almost as if he were angry with you, but that wasn’t possible… was it?

“Wh- what am I to do?” your voice came out smaller than intended. You had been preparing for this moment your whole life – you, and generations of priestesses before you. Now that it had come, were they all going to run away?

Siegfried sighed and the anger evaporated from his face, he cooed your name and walked towards you, righting his hat as he did so. “Listen to me carefully now,” he said sternly, and you could almost hear the old, collected Chamberlain in his voice. “You are the chosen priestess. You will face this evil, and you will defeat it by your virtue. The goddess is within you – no, you ARE the goddess. You must take the Sacred Staff and protect this country.” His gaze bore into you, compelling you to understand. He was the closest thing you had to a parent, he had raised you all your life. He was the only one you were given leave to speak to. And he was entrusting you with all of their fates.

You blinked, your eyes welling up with tears at the enormity of your task, but you nodded solemnly. This was your due. For all the years of worship that the countrymen had paid to you and your ancestors. It was time to fight the evil with the collected power of those prayers.

“I – “ he was already stumbling away again, now that he had placated you, “I will take the people away – somewhere safe!” He opened and closed his mouth a few times as sweat rolled down his temples. “I’d much rather be by your side to see your glorious victory, but - but the people need to be evacuated.” He nodded firmly to himself. “I will bring them back when you have vanquished the Great Evil.”

You watched his retreating back as he turned slowly away from you and then bolted for the temple’s exit. You took a soft, deep breath and looked around.

The temple was abandoned. It seemed all the others had fled while you were talking to Sig.

No matter, you shook your head. It was time.

You dressed in the white silks that had been prepared for the month’s assembly, they were of better use for the upcoming battle. Seven gold belts you clasped around your waist, each with a divine significance. Power, Wisdom, Eloquence, Generosity, Chastity, Divinity, and Judgment.

You knelt at the sacred tree a final time and bade the goddess Terra watch over you, before rising to your feet and turning to a side room. Here, was the Wreath of the Goddess and the Staff of Sanctity. The two tools you would use to vanquish the approaching evil. The Staff was a pearly white, and the Wreath was made of delicate golden flowers and leaves that were as soft to the touch as real flowers. You placed the wreath atop your head and lifted the staff gingerly in your hands.

The uppermost floor of the tower was your destination. Here, you would face the oncoming horde of evil. Here, you would take your stand and protect the people of this land who had worshipped you all your life.

You saw them approaching from afar. A mass of growling, burly demonic incarnations approaching like a thick plague. The very stench of their evil made your skin crawl, but you set your teeth and stood firm. The closer they drew, the weaker you felt, their demonic aura infringing upon your divine power. You closed your eyes and whispered a prayer for strength, replenishing the shield of divinity.

When the horde of demons drew within earshot, you breathed deep and called out, “Halt, accursed spirits! I am the Priestess of the Goddess Terra, and I forbid you entry within our borders! Heed my words, lest I sentence you to your deaths!”

The monsters turned towards one another, muttering to themselves before bursting into raucous laughter. Their jeers made your stomach turn. As if you had not spoken at all, they lurched back into action and continued approaching the temple walls. With a quiet incantation, you lifted the sacred staff and struck the ground with it. Immediately, a luminous, incandescent wall sprung to life between the temple and the evil beasts. They snarled at you and the first of them lifted a mace before bolting towards the barrier – only to disintegrate into nothingness as soon as he touched it.

You smirked to yourself, you were the chosen priestess, and you would protect your countrymen. A furious roar lifted from the monsters as they shuffled back and forth, wondering what to do. You watched them, hoping they would retreat peacefully, putting an end to the chaos when a pair of crimson eyes caught yours. Your breath caught in your throat, because there, among the disgruntled goblins was a man standing well over them, he had black markings on his face and four muscular arms, two of which were folded across his broad chest, but most shocking of all was the fact that he was looking straight at you with a wide, unhinged smirk, fangs gleaming in the sunlight.

Before you could blink, he had launched himself up through the air towards you, and as he approached the divine barrier, the last shield between you and the evil beyond - it shattered into a million pieces like the thinnest of glass. He squatted on the balcony’s railing, his nose millimeters from yours, his scarlet eyes flecked with gold and glowing with bloodlust.

“Boo,” he taunted, his smirk unfaltering. You could hear the cheers of victory behind and far below him as the demons breached the temple walls, but you could not tear your eyes from the murderous smile of the man before you. Instantly, you knew without a shadow of a doubt, that this man was the Great Evil you had been taught about all your life.

“I am the Priestess of Terra,” you murmured quietly, your breath ghosting over his lips. You furrowed your brows, trying your best to look imposing, trying your best to stand your ground, “and I will vanquish you.”

His nose twitched and his eyes gleamed, there was something of genuine delight in his response and you fought the shiver that went down your spine.

“Oh, yeah?” he sneered, stepping forward off the balcony railing. His sheer size forced you to take a step back. “Says who?”

“The goddess Terra has ordained me to –“ you begin, glancing backwards so you don’t fall to the floor.

“Goddess, shmoddess,” Sukuna dismissed with a cruel laugh. Like a strike of lightning his hand shot out, and closed around your face, his fingers reached to the tips of your ears and his palms smelled of blood and sweat.

He was touching you - touching you. And his touch was warm and foreign and – and bruising. Your head spun with fear. When the demon applied pressure, you could hear the bones of your jaw creaking in protest as he lifted you off of the ground. He swung you left and right like a ragdoll, “I’m asking you, who left you here to stand against me on your own?”

“Th- The people of Terrania, I –“ your voice was muffled against his palm and you could scarcely breathe. “I will protect them!” you choked out, before striking out with your staff, hoping the mere touch of such a divine instrument would be enough to take him down.

You held the point of the staff against his chest, and Sukuna glanced down at it, taken aback briefly. He blinked, then broke into a chuckle, as the pearly white spear took on a gray, and then an inky black hue spilling down from the point of contact with Sukuna’s chest towards the handle in your hand. You gasped in horror, watching the ominous display through the gaps in Sukuna’s fingers.

“That’s all well and good, brat…” he chuckled sinisterly, “but who is going to protect you?”

And in that moment, you lost all hope that anyone would.

“Sukuna-sama,” a voice called from beyond your vision. “The place is abandoned, there’s no one else here. The townspeople, too,” the gruff voice continued. “All gone.”

“Well, well, well…” Sukuna sneered. “Looks like it’s just you and me then, priestess.”

He released his hold on you and you crumpled to the ground like a used towel, coughing for breath. You glanced up at the mountain of a man and began to realize, for the very first time, that you were entirely out of your depth. You stumbled to your feet gingerly, unwilling to give up despite the overwhelming odds. “I am the incarnation of the Goddess Terra,” you rasped, “and I will bring you to your knees.”

“Ho?” Sukuna sneered, almost delighted by your stupidity. “My knees, huh?”

He stepped closer and grabbed you by your hair, sending the Wreath of the Goddess tumbling to the ground, you yelped in pain, but squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to let him see your fear.

“Oi,” Sukuna snapped gruffly, “eyes up here.”

You glared at him through the tears in your eyes. He tugged on your hair some more. “Does this hurt?” He grinned in mock-concern, “I’m only getting started. I thought you were gonna bring me down, you’ll have to do better than that.”

Your scalp burned with pain. You thought of roses in syrup, of clay pots of honey, of cool silks and soft velvets. Anything but the present moment.

“Don’t you hate them?” Sukuna jerked you closer towards himself, “The assholes who left a nobody like you alone with me?”

You bit back tears. “I will protect my worshippers,” you whispered thickly, muted by sobs stuck in your throat.

“You think they didn’t know what was going to happen to you?” Sukuna barked a laugh, “You really don’t see what’s happening here?”

With his free hand he grabbed your face again, squeezing your cheeks in until they hurt. “Don’t tell me you actually believe all that crap about being a goddess?!” A disbelieving laugh echoed against the abandoned temple walls.

“I was going to kill you,” Sukuna mused piercing your cheek with a sharp, black fingernail. You whimpered despite yourself as blood trickled towards your chin. “Impale you and use you as a flag, you know?” He snorted in amusement, as if the idea was a clever joke.

“But I think I have a better idea…”

You yelped in alarm as you felt yet another hand at your waist, you tried to jerk away from him, trembling at his touch – as foreign to you as the pain you were feeling for the first time in your life. You tried to swat his hands away, but he was quick to catch your hands in one of his own, and then twisting them until they hurt.

“Now don’t be such a prude,” Sukuna taunted as his other hands sliced through the seven golden belts one at a time. “Let’s see what’s under here, shall we?”

“Stop, please…” you whimpered, eyes brimming with tears.

“You’re not a goddess,” Sukuna tutted, throwing two belts to the ground.

Power. Wisdom.

“Not a priestess,”

Judgment. Eloquence. Generosity.

“Not the savior of these stinking humans,”

Divinity.

The last of the golden belts clattered to the floor and his hands reached between the folds of silk and cupped the mound between your legs. A shuddering sob escaped your throat.

“You’re just a woman.”

Chastity.

He rubbed at your clothed sex, observing the conflicting emotions of horror, pleasure and fear splayed openly across your face. “Looks like the goddess likes it,” Sukuna sneered.

The tears you held at bay came bubbling over. The sounds of the temple - your childhood home, your only home - being ransacked by the many cursed spirits that had stormed in echoed through the halls and instead of protecting your shrine, here you were being touched, touched, by the great evil himself in ways you didn’t understand.

“They steal little girls like you from their parents,” Sukuna continued gruffly, adjusting his grip so that two hands held you up by your thighs, pressing your legs apart and pinning you against a large, marble pillar, while the other two ventured up your abdomen and over your breasts each inch that his hands wandered over you caused cold dread to creep up your spine, when suddenly – without warning – his sharp nails came down, tearing your silk robes to shreds.

You gasped in horror and sheer humiliation. You had never been exposed to anyone, not even your handmaidens, and here you were spread open like a gutted pig. And beyond that, the eyes of the great evil were feasting on you as if you were no more than a morsel for him to devour.

You winced when he reached out towards you. You had spent your life untouched, and when Sukuna’s hands closed in on you, his touch was never less than punishing. He squeezed, he pinched, he scraped your flesh, as if he could only feel you when you were in pain. He grabbed your breasts and squeezed mercilessly, his sharp black nails digging into your skin. For reasons, you could not comprehend, you moaned through your hiccupping sobs.

This couldn’t be happening. This wasn’t happening.

“They look for the most gullible ones, unsuspecting idiots like you,” he twisted your nipple cruelly as he went on. “And use you to fill their own koffers, to bring in the fools who are willing to part with their gold. And you know what the best part is?” He lowered his head towards your ear to reveal it, but broke off laughing. The idea was so ridiculous to him, it didn’t look like he could help but laugh. He leaned against you, crushing you into the pillar as he continued laughing hysterically. You watched him helplessly, suspended against the pillar spread-eagle with your most intimate area pressed up against him, your eyebrows knitted in confusion, your cheeks damp with tears.

When the roar of laughter abated, Sukuna wiped at his eyes and brought his lips to your ears, “When those bastards left you here, do you really think they thought you would fight me?” He waited a beat for you to think it over. You hesitated, hadn’t Sig expected her to fight? “They must have thought you’d have the good sense to run away.” Sukuna burst out laughing again and pressed one hand to his stomach as if it hurt from laughter.

“You see? You see what an absolute fool you are?”

You could not respond and simply stared at him blankly. “Th-that’s not true…”

But you weren’t sure. You thought about how Sig had fled without another glance backwards. How the monks and handmaidens had run from the temple without once asking after you. How they had left you behind as if you were no more human than the temple’s paintings or statues.

“Everyone knew it was a lie,” Sukuna hissed sadistically into your ear, as he tore the simple, remaining scrap of fabric from between your legs.

“Everyone but you.”

And then his fingers were inside of you.

You cried out in shock. “No, no, no…” You fought against him with what little strength you had. You didn’t know what this was, but it was wrong, it was so, so wrong. “Stop!” You pounded against his chest hoping to catch him off guard so he would release you, but those long, thick fingers only kept exploring the hole between your legs.

“Stop it! Please! I’ll do whatever you want!”

“Oh yes, you will,” Sukuna smirked. Catching both of your wrists in one of his hands he pinned them above your head, leaving you utterly defenseless. You looked on in horror as he reached for the sacred staff and held it in his bare hand. The Sacred Staff. The divine gift that no one but the priestesses had touched for over a hundred years. In the hands of the Great Evil. And whose fault was that? No one’s but yours. The onyx marble glistened in the sunlight and a salacious sneer spread across the monster’s lips.

“Be honest with yourself, goddess,” he teased, bringing the staff between your legs. He pressed the cold marble against your womanhood and slid it slowly up and down, enjoying your look of despair at his manhandling your divine weapon. The cool marble slipped between your folds and touched something between your legs that caused you to jerk in response.

“Stop it,” you whimpered, letting your head hang in shame, even as your legs trembled against his hold with the strange, unfamiliar sensation. You could feel something coiling within your stomach, something you had first attributed to fear, but now you weren’t so sure anymore.

“What? You don’t like it?” Sukuna hummed with sadistic pleasure, “Don’t lie, brat.”

“I don’t!” you denied vehemently, even as your cheeks burned. But what could you do? With your legs pressed open and your hands pinned over your head, struggle as you might, there was no overpowering the great demon before you. Your eyes burned with guilt at what you had allowed to become of the sacred staff. If only a more powerful priestess had been in your place.

The thought was cut short by another entirely. Sukuna had said the temple kidnapped young, naïve girls. And what was it that Siegfried had said? That your parents had been unwilling to give you up? Maybe there were no priestesses more powerful. Maybe there was only a string of ignorant young women preyed upon by powerful men who made their fortunes off of them.

No, the idea was blasphemous!

Your thoughts were cut short as something cool and round demanded entrance and you shivered despite yourself. “Wh- what are you doing?”

“Think it’ll fit?” Sukuna mused, pressing the bulbous head of the staff against your opening. He prodded the hole carelessly once, twice, and each time a jolt passed through your body. “Stop!” you demanded, anxious sweat beading on your forehead, you opened your mouth to say more but nothing came out as a searing pain tore through you like fire.

A scream erupted from your throat as your untouched inner walls were forced to give way to the cold stone. Distantly, as if a world away, you could hear Sukuna laughing, enjoying your pain. Before your scream had even abated, he began shoving the staff deeper. Your cries broke off into sobs of pain, but the more you suffered, the more he seemed to be enjoying himself.

He pulled the staff out, only to ram it back into you, and smirked each time you jolted at the intrusion. You sobbed messily, tears and snot streaming down your face. Sukuna showed no signs of stopping, or even slowing, his punishing pace continued mercilessly until blood streamed between your legs.

“Pl- please…” you sniffled.

“Please what?” Sukuna asked, but rammed the ancient relic back into you as you opened your mouth to reply. “Come now, goddess, full sentences, please.”

Something awful was building and you didn’t know what it was - you hoped it was a swift death - but your breath shortened, and your body felt wound like a spring, and just as a dozen cursed spirits streamed into the room to give their report to Sukuna, you cried out in confusion as your body spasmed, your nerve ends tingling like grains of sand.

Sukuna pulled your staff from between your legs, and it hurt as if your insides themselves were clenching onto the stone instrument. You fell forward like a dead weight, hanging limply from where Sukuna held your wrists.

“Step forward men,” Sukuna all but purred, gesturing towards you magnanimously, “meet your goddess.”

Your face burned with shame and tears dripped down from your lashes onto the temple floor where they mingled with your blood. You trembled still with the force of whatever it was that had happened to you and closed your eyes from the humiliating experience.

“Oi,” Sukuna gripped your chin and raised your face towards him. “Don’t be a bore, goddess. Look at them.” He turned your face towards the creatures that had entered. A few bore a resemblance to men, others were half-beast, and others still were what could only be described as monsters with tentacles, fangs, and all manner of bodily deformities.

“See that look in their eyes?” Sukuna murmured into your ear, his fangs brushing your earlobe. “They want a turn, too. What do you say, should I hand you over?”

You turned your head towards him in horror, your eyes imploring him not to, as a cheer broke out among the cursed spirits.

You shook your head desperately as Sukuna finally released you, giving you a shove towards the gathering. They caught hold of you before you had even caught your footing, dragging you into the center of their circle. Their eyes were almost worse than their hands, the hunger with which those fearsome eyes raked over you was nauseating. You cried and screamed and begged them to stop, but your voice was drowned out by theirs. Nothing could stop them fighting over every inch of your flesh. You were groped and prodded at, licked in more places than you could count at once. It was as if you were drowning in hands and tongues.

But as bad as it was when they fought over you, it was worse still when they cooperated with one another. Bruising hands pinned you down while the others explored your body freely, taking turns mouthing your breasts and fondling you. There were so many voices, so much warm breath on your skin, so many faces, you shut your eyes and sobbed miserably.

You prayed that Sig would pull you away. That your guards would beat them down. That the goddess Terra would come to save you, but you knew it was all in vain. Deep down, you were beginning to realize. You were nothing more than a girl who had been stolen from her parents. After all, a true goddess could never find herself in such a situation, could she? Being raped to death in her own temple?

It was when an overeager cursed spirit positioned his member between your legs that you realized with startling clarity, that there was one person who could save you.

“Sukuna-sama!” you screamed, pulling your face away from another spirit seeking entrance at your mouth. They hesitated, confirming your suspicions. There was one person who could call them off, who might call them off still. “Sukuna…” you called again, but your voice was weaker this time. You squeezed your eyes shut and gave yourself up to the only true power you had yet to witness.

“Please, I’ll do anything! Please!”

When you opened your eyes again, Sukuna was standing beside you staring down at where you were held spread-eagle on the floor.

The mirth was gone from his face. He was regarding you seriously. A cocked brow, a challenge. “Anything?”

You nodded, tears still flowing from your eyes. He jerked his chin at the spirits, signaling for them to leave off and they scrambled backwards, not daring to challenge him. You rose to sit before him, your legs tucked beneath you as you used to sit in the temple library. Your shoulders shook still, and you wiped your face with the back of your arm, trying to regain a sense of decorum even as you could not stop yourself from trembling. You glanced down at your blood-stained legs and your tear-streaked arms, waiting for Sukuna’s verdict.

“You could be my mascot, like I said. I could string you up nicely,” Sukuna mused, leaning back against a pillar as he rested one booted foot on your shoulder. “What else could you possibly be good for? Apart from your leather, maybe.”

What were you good for? Nothing, clearly. You didn’t even know a single thing about yourself. But… you knew everything about the goddess.

“Do you want me to die a martyr?” you asked, meeting his eyes clearly, the faintest spark of hope coming to life within you. “Or do you want them to see that I’ve recognized the power of a true god?” It might work, appeal to his ego, he was the type, wasn’t he?

Sukuna’s lips split into a broad smile. “Clever little thing, aren’t you?” He pushed at your shoulder with his booted foot, sending you sprawling onto your back on the tiled floor. He then took hold of your wrist and lifted you up from the floor until you were eye level. You swallowed thickly and did your best to meet his gaze, there was a dangerous spark in those glowing red irises. “But I don’t like the look in your eyes,” he decided. “Should I take them out?”

Your breath caught in your throat. Did he mean that?

“Break in the goddess, huh?” He smirked, “Well, let’s get started, then.” As he pulls you towards the balcony you begin to understand what he has in store for you.

“I’ll be obedient!” You cry, realizing you’re in for more pain as you struggle to keep up with his steps. “I’ll do everything you say! Please, no more!”

“And how on earth are you going to be obedient?” He sneered, “When you’re arguing with me already?”

He throws you towards a wooden table.

The monks used to eat dinner here, you remember. They would thank you for the meal and eat humbly with gentle smiles. Your back slams against the surface of the wooden table and the candlesticks clatter across the temple floor. You scamper backwards, as if seeking to escape over the table, but Sukuna takes hold of your shoulder and flips you onto your chest, the rough wood scraping at your skin. In one fluid movement, Sukuna catches your wrists in his hand and slams your staff against the nearest wall, sending the marble bulb sailing through the air for him to catch in a third hand. He stabs the jagged edge of your now-broken staff through the backs of your hands, held one over the other, and clear through the wooden table.

You don’t even realize you are screaming until the pain in your throat becomes unbearable. You sob against the unfinished wood and Sukuna shakes his head behind you. “Tsk, tsk, tsk… What was that about being obedient?”

“I’ll be good, I promise…” you mutter nonsensically, your words slurred with pain. “You can trust me.”

“I’ll trust you when I break you,” Sukuna answers automatically. His attention caught by the marble, stone ball in his hand, still covered with your blood and your juices.

“Say ahh~” he grins, holding the orb of your broken staff to your lips. You’re about to protest, when your gaze catches on the cursed spirits still watching, waiting only a few feet away for you to screw up and be thrown back into their midst.

If you were going to be violated, wouldn’t it be better for Sukuna to be the one? He was just one demon, he had to wear out eventually, right? You opened your mouth, and Sukuna shoved the ball inside, scraping past your teeth. It was too big. It hurt. You couldn’t swallow. You could already feel saliva pooling in your mouth.

“Good girl,” Sukuna purred, “how’s that?” You couldn’t answer but you tried anyway, hoping the garbled sound would somehow please him. It seemed to do the job, because he asked no further questions as he moved back behind you.

It was awful. Your hands were burning, you almost wished he would have just cut them off instead. Every ever so tiny movement only widened your wounds, worsening your pain. The discomfort of the rough, wooden table almost didn’t register in comparison, but the burning embarrassment of your exposed backside hurt almost more than your hands. You tried to blend it all out, to disappear into some safe space in your mind as Sukuna slowly marched towards the end of the table trailing a sharp, black fingernail along your spine as he did so.

Sukuna didn’t like to give you any sort of pleasure without also giving you pain, you were starting to realize, and you grit your teeth for what you knew would be a humiliating experience, even more so with the other spirits looking on.

What you didn’t expect was for the palm of his hand to strike your backside with such force that the table splintered beneath you. Your hoarse throat cried out in pain. You could feel the bits of wood digging into your thighs, but could do nothing at all as he repeated the motion, again, and again, and again. Each strike seemed to travel up through your whole body, each strike seemed like it would split your skin. It was an endless, raw pain. You had no idea how long it went on for, but it continued until you gave up screaming, and your face lay limp in a puddle of your own drool.

When your body went slack and you were teetering on the edge of consciousness, and he could no longer provoke a reaction out of you, he finally stilled his hand. He pulled your face up by your hair, and your eyes rolled weakly up towards him, a string of spittle stretching from your chin to the table.

“You’re not finished already, are you?” he taunted, bright-eyed and sadistic. He rubbed gently at your backside now, almost as if easing away the pain and you blinked in weak confusion. What… what was he doing?

“That’s just the thing, goddess,” he slipped his hand between your cheeks, sliding up and down, spreading a strange slick liquid between your legs. “Don’t pass out on me now, if I wanted to fuck a corpse, I would have just killed you in the first place.” You moaned weakly. You had no idea what was going on, but it felt good, and you were so desperate to feel good. When his fingers slipped inside of you this time, there was nothing awful about it, you sighed against the table and closed your eyes in relief. Sure, there were still chips of wood in your thighs and the blood on your hands had crusted around your staff, and your jaw ached so terribly you did not believe there was a way to remove the ball of marble from your mouth. You were starting to hate the staff, and the wreath, and the temple, and everything about this place.

You relaxed into his touch, hoping that the more pliant you were, the less inclined he would be to cause you more pain. You felt thick, hard flesh prodding at your entrance, sliding up and down, just as his hand had a minute ago, to part your folds and slip inside. But something was wrong, whatever it was he wanted to violate you with now, it was too big, it would never fit. You glanced over your shoulder, trying to make sense of what was happening to you and your eyes widened in alarm as you saw not one, but two, erect members protruding from between his legs, each of them bigger than a man’s fist. He was going to literally tear you apart. He had no intention of letting you live.

All lethargy forgotten, you whimpered in fear and struggled to pull away from him, but two firm hands gripped your hips firmly, keeping you in place. “Now, now… don’t be that way,” he scolded with a cruel smirk. “Open wide.”

He forced himself inside of you with a thrust that should have split you clean in two. The sound that escaped from your mouth was something between a groan and a scream. You gasped, panting against the obstruction in your mouth as your inner walls burned with pain. You squeezed your eyes shut and whimpered against the table trying to spread your feet further apart, anything to ease the agonizing stretch.

But Sukuna cared little for your comfort. He continued ramming into you, aiming to push deeper and deeper inside of you, not having nearly had his fill. Each thrust makes you dizzy, each time he shoves further inside of you, you’re sure he’ll tear you apart.

It’s all together too much. Another orgasm crashes over you, despite the pain, causing your walls to squeeze down on him. You shiver uncontrollably against the table, wondering – hoping – if you could just black out until he’s done.

You feel the flat of his palm against your bare back and your eyes fall to half-mast as he shoves into you – again – again – again. You loll forward with each thrust, widening the wounds on your hands. When Sukuna finally gives pause with a groan, one hand on each side of you, leaning over you on the table, you turn your head weakly to look up at him.

It’s strange, to meet his eyes this way. It’s almost intimate. Being shadowed by him this way, covered by him. It’s strange how in the course of just a few hours, his touch had gone from horrid and strange to familiar. Strange. Perhaps it was simply her addled, exhausted mind.

You could not look away from him, and he did not seem to be inclined to do so either. He began rocking into you, eating up your expressions, each wince of pain, each moan of pleasure, each jolt of overstimulation. Did it make him feel powerful, you wondered, to be able to give you agony or ecstasy at his leisure, to switch them up at a whim, always leaving you guessing?

Just when you thought you had reached the point of no return, you felt him position his second member behind you. But what did he intend to do? You were stretched to your limit, there was no way he could fit another where he had forced the first – but the question answered itself almost as soon as it crossed your mind.

You turned wide eyes towards Sukuna, who smirked, feasting off your fear. You tried to say something, some protest about how wrong that was, but all that reached his ears around the ball in your mouth was helpless, desperate whines.

“Look at you,” Sukuna chided, lifting your chin from the table where you had made a mess, the wood softening from your pooled saliva. “Disgusting.” Your stomach did some odd flip at the word. It was an insult. So, why did it feel…

All thoughts were banished from your mind as his second member began squeezing into your narrow entrance. It hurt. It hurt so, so, so much. It hurt more than your jaw and more than your hands and more than losing your maidenhood to your own staff had. You sobbed against the table, your tears mixing with your saliva, and still Sukuna pushed on.

You didn’t know when the pain faded. Maybe it hadn’t faded at all, but it was now accompanied by another sensation. Something filthy, something animalistic, something intoxicating.

There was a type of urgency to his movements now, and you could hear the wooden table legs skidding over the stone floor with each thrust quickening in pace. Your breaths were starting to come fast and short again, and to your immense surprise, so did his. There was that coil tightening in your belly again, the tension throughout your body that you realized would be released shortly, and then it hit you – he was feeling the same thing.

The feeling of fullness drove you nearly out of your mind. Each thrust seemed to kill off a little of your sanity. Did it hurt? Was it torture? Or was it divine? Did you wish he would leave you alone or did you wish he would never stop? You didn’t rightly know.

Feeling both members slick in and out of you at the same time, perfectly in sync, filling you so perfectly you thought you could almost feel him in your throat. Your eyes crossed over as you gave yourself up to him. It was okay. It had to be. Everyone was gone. They had left you with him. It had to be okay to let him have you. To let him ravage you however he liked. It had to be okay if it felt this good.

He was also this close to reaching that strange, indescribable height that you knew you ought not to feel, being bared and violated in your own temple like this. But it was all a lie anyway, wasn’t it? And as opposed to always sitting still, and being silent, you felt more alive like this, on the precipice of agony and pleasure at the same time, waiting for someone as awful as Sukuna to push you over.

It tore out of you with a scream of pleasure, you all but convulsed against the table with the sheer impact of the climax that washed over you. Sukuna came shortly after, his pace stuttering, and then you could feel something warm and pleasant gushing into you. What could that be? Copious amounts of it, it felt like, pumping into you and flowing back out, dripping onto the floor between your legs. Sukuna lowered himself for a fraction of a moment, his chest almost grazing your back.

Panting, losing consciousness, your eyes met his. He made a sound that was something between a scoff and a chuckle, “That’s the thing sweetheart, you can’t pretend to be broken.”

“Mmm..” you answered, your eyes fluttering closed. Darkness was closing in. Were you dying? Or falling asleep? You had no idea. Sukuna had spoken so softly his minions couldn’t possibly have heard him. But as you drifted off, you held onto a single word… sweetheart.

Days and nights passed. Some with torture, some with starvation, some with agonizing ecstasy to drive you out of your mind. Some days he left you alone in a dark room until there was no way to know whether or not he had left you to your death. Others he whispered sweet, meaningless nothings into your ear just to see how it made you shiver. Some days he called you disgusting trash not worth his time. Others he called you goddess.

Both were starting to feel the same.

It was exhilarating just to have his attention. Just to have him look at you. Just to not be alone. It felt good to be struck by him. Almost as good as it felt to have him jerk your head back by your hair so he could fuck you harder. And when all was said and done, you were broken in every sense of the word, but that was okay, because you had never felt so whole.

When he marched on your townspeople it was with you on his shoulder, draped in skimpy, barely-there red silks and gold chains. You wore the Wreath of the Goddess around your neck like a collar, and your arms were wrapped around Sukuna’s neck. He didn’t even need to put you down to kill the few rebels that took up arms. And when the rest of them surrendered to his might, you felt giddy watching Sig and the others kneel before Master Sukuna. The burning villages, the ruined fields, didn’t it serve them right?

And just to prove a point, he’d dragged you onto his lap and fucked his goddess in front of the entire assembly. Bouncing you up and down until your eyes crossed in delirious pleasure. With the townspeople looking on in equal measures of shock and concern, with Sukuna’s big, warm hands on your hips, guiding you -

You’d never felt so pure.

#Sukuna #tw noncon #sukuna reader #writing #dark #dead dove do not eat

370 notes · View notes

bringcal · 4 months

Note

most shameful ask of my life. i would love to hear your analysis of nagito komaeda. you don't have to actually rant about him but know that there's people interested in hearing that

So, I do have an entire google document of my feelings about Nagito I wrote a few years ago, I never edited it, so maybe my feelings have changed, but I'm too lazy to research and think about it again. I made this because I feel like Nagito is never understood by the fandom, and most people just think hes a selfish asshole or completely hypocritical. Just a warning: this is 2k+ words long, and I will not provide screenshots of what i'm referencing ( Because again, i wrote this ramble years ago and am not in the fandom much anymore, so i can't be assed to do it). Anyways, have fun reading! (MAJOR SPOILERS)

NAGITO KOMAEDA, CONTROLLER OF SITUATIONS

Nagito consistently encourages the ultimates around him to create hope and talks about how useless he is but then acts like he is a crucial part to make hope. In the 5th trial, he attempts to kill everyone because he feels like he's the only person there who could create hope.. which in a way is technically true and I will talk about why later, and to many people this can be written off at a one time thing. ... but it keeps happening. As Servant, he manipulates the situation continuously and manipulates the kids into thinking he will be a help just so hope can get created, and he promises to make Monaca even worse than Junko just for hope. Even through his life as a student, he literally attempted to bomb the gymnasium because he didn't think a good hope could get created. He also tries to kill Junko to create hope because he feels like he can stop her. He takes control of every hope-creating situation that's accessible to him to the point that the people he's encouraging to create hope barely even have the option to be without him, which I don't even think he FULLY notices it's what he does. He brute forces his way into controlling every hope-making situation while saying it depends on everyone else.

I mean, I think even if he's full of hatred for himself, he tends to wish he wasn't, and these cravings of self importance leak through. I think he openly states this to Hajime. In his final message, he says " I should have never made fun of Hajime. Deep down, I always wanted to be a protagonist myself too. " Though lots of people took this as a final way to make fun of Hajime's yearning to be special, people tend to forget that even though Nagito can say very rude things, it is how he's communicating his feelings. His emotional communication often comes out in inappropriate ways, especially in a snarky attitude; and there's no doubt that Nagito sarcastically tormented Hajime in chapter 4, there's always some kind of truth hidden underneath his remarks and undoubtedly he's expressing his true feelings. So when speaking about how he wished he was a protagonist, It's not a complete "final kick" at Hajime.

Nagito is being sincere. He feels as though he wishes he felt like he's more important in his life, which is the hope and despair cycle. I mean, he literally asks them to call him the " Ultimate hope " right after ffs.

NAGITOS PERCIEVED ENDLESS LIFE CYCLE, AND CONNECTION TO HIS SELF ESTEEM

Though, I'm not done with that yet. I think that's only his feelings on how he wished he was like in his current time, struggling with his hope and despair cycle. Deeper down, He feels like he wished he didn't hate himself or overly love himself, and instead lived a normal life with no hope and despair cycle to bother him and full of people giving their love to him while he gives that love back.

We know this because of the anime episode dedicated to exploring his deepest desires and wants. World Destroyer AI tells him that he was on the deepest level of consciousness they went to, and everyone's deepest desires were higher up and they were already awake. Though I think this could be a reference to Nagito's sickly state of having cancer + dementia, I think it's more of a comment on how far he's pushed his truest desires down into himself.

Nagito crushed his OWN hopes, because he believes he's stuck the way he currently is. Supporting evidence would be both his monologues about hope among the common people, and also in the same episode he denies that what World destroyer AI saw in his consciousness is not what he wishes for at all, which is almost immediately confirmed to be a lie by AI. Backtracking on what I just said and expanding, we also see what Nagito's true desires are. He wants to have positive social connections with others, and he's tired of being by himself and not accepted for having out-there views. Even outside of this episode, this gets mentioned a LOT.. when Nagito gets the despair disease, and in his free time events. When he gets the despair disease Monokuma calls what he's having " liar disease " which though a very basic conclusion I dont think is completely accurate. Many of the things he says in his state weren't even lies, they were just outright gibberish that made no sense. I think it's a way of showing how Nagito feels when talking to people. No one has ever understood him his whole life, and it's extremely despairing to him. With his free time events, he admits that now that he's slowly dying he realized what he truly wants is someone's love. He quickly covers it up ( speculated it's because he saw Hajime started to empathize with him and wanted him not to, because anyone that gets close to him ends up having bad things happen to them due to his luck cycle ) and claims he just quoted a book.

Soo.. Why does Nagito hate himself? Why does he feel like no one likes him or no one should currently like him? His misfortune and traumatic past. Nagito's entire life, bad things happen to the ones he cares about, including himself. His dog died, his parents died, and he was kidnapped. He had absolutely no one. He says his mother never complimented him and the kidnapper realized he was useless so he threw him in a garbage bag. Everyone in his life saw him as useless growing up, and he feels like if someone did care about him, he'd cause them to die like the others. He can only fly on private jets because of this, because no one he's close to has a chance of dying on a plane like how his parents did.

WHAT HOPE AND DESPAIR MEANS IN DANGANRONPA

Okay now i wanna talk about Hope and despair in the Danganronpa universe and Nagito's relationship to it! So first of all we're going to have to define key descriptors of what hope and despair is in the danganronpa universe.

Hope: Absolute good, The future, the truth, talent, belief, and luck.

Despair: Absolute evil, Grief, hatred, anger, nihilism, unluck, also the truth, in some cases

Nagito's relationship with talent is actually very unique and directly linked to his view of true hope. Nagito believes people are born with their talents, you don't just develop them over time. I used to actually agree with him ( about talent within the danganronpa universe ) but Nagisa's backstory I think actually disproves this. Nagisa is the ultimate scholar, but that isn't because he's just naturally good. His father forced him to study almost 24 hours a day, lots of the time to study and see how much you can force such a child to study and excel until they break. This is not a natural development of talent at all, so talent is not something you're born with. I think he just thinks this because his talent is pretty supernatural with how it works and also a little self hatred over the fact he has a talent.

Nagitos talent is SO fucking weird. He's the 2nd ultimate luck we've gotten and his luck works in a way different way than how Makotos does. Nagito's luck happens in a cycle, meaning if he's lucky one time there will be something unlucky following it, with luck following after and so on. For example, when he was a child he went on a plane with his parents and someone hijacked the plane. That's unlucky. but then, a VERY asteroid conveniently showed up and hit their plane, killing the hijacker, which is pretty lucky. However, later his parents died because the asteroid sent them into a plane crash, which is unlucky. but AGAIN, he inherited tons of money because his parents were rich, which he considers to be pretty lucky.

Growing up, this cycle has led him into lots of traumatic situations, which made him more dependent on his good luck and hope. He constantly pieced luck + good together, with his personal experiences as reinforcements, which means luck and hope are together because hope is absolute good. This is a trauma response for Nagito, he's become so obsessed with hope that he will take any opportunity to try and create the most powerful hope everyone has ever seen. He thinks hope will save everyone, just like how it "saved" him every time he had a bad situation. He pretty much equates having bad luck to the common people , evident by his episode dedicated to himself. I don't really know why TBH with you. I just know he does by a bunch of examples in the games and episodes.

He has no control over his luck UNLESS he believes in it. Believing was how he pulled off most of the 5th trial and the final dead room. However, we know he does win games like rock paper scissors and tic tac toe every single time haha, even if he doesn't want to. He apologizes when he does. So the extent of control over his luck is believing in it. He has no control over his misfortune though, and it usually manifests in it hurting the people he loves sadly. So, it's safe to say Nagito's luck and misfortune cycle is linked to hope and despair . Believing in anything linked to hope makes it stronger as well.

Now here's where we get into Nagito's moral fucked up-ness. Nagito is extremely morally fucked, he will literally not hesitate to bomb a fucking school if it means stronger hope will arise. To him, hope is naturally stronger than despair, so any despair you create will be weaker than the hope that overcomes it. This is why he appears almost not brainwashed at all by Junko and has ulterior motives against everyone else when coming apart from the ultimate despair.

Nagito still LOVES hope, and hes willing to literally help with genocide because hes so convinced that an even more powerful hope will overcome it. He's never afraid to offer himself up to die for hope. He pretty much controls every room he's in and purposely makes it harder for everyone because he either 1. is testing to see how hopeful they all are and/or 2. making the situation more despairing for hopes sake.

Because he values talent so strongly, he thinks that since talented people are born that way, anyone who is not talented only purpose is to submit themselves as a target for despair so every ultimate can use it as a stepping stone for a bigger hope. To him, someone with no talent's natural level of hope in them is very small and weak compared to someone with talent. A group of common folks hope just will not suffice to create a future filled with absolute good. Though Nagito only considers his talent an actual talent depending on when he actually needs it. He thinks luck is pretty worthless, but when it's for hope, it's worth a lot. He never thinks that ultimate luck is as low as non-talented people on the ‘hope scale’ though.

I’d also like to add there’s like multiple ways you can achieve the label of ultimate hope. Makoto, who has ultimate luck defeated Junko who's the ultimate despair, so he's now considered the ultimate hope. In the dr universe the ultimate hope is like the highest rank of ultimate you could EVER be. Izuru Kamukura is also the ultimate hope, but this is because he has every single talent in existence and he's considered a godlike entity.

Random add on, Difference n samesies between Nagito and Hajime

I was just thinking of sames n differences between nagito n hajime n i just think its very interesting their like... characters are showcasing the same thing but different versions of it. they both know very well the harshness of the concept of talent in the danganronpa universe n find different ways to cope with it, yet they still fall under the same category of "losing yourself entirely" ... Hajime does this in a Very obvious way, since he literally signs himself up for a life altering surgery that he knew very well would completely get rid of himself. He knew he would disappear, but he did not like himself so much that he would rather have disappeared for talent. However, with Nagito, he does this in another way... he is absolutely obsessed with talent, but except for feeling bad about himself for not being " as talented” ( even though ultimate luck is arguably the most interesting talent in the whole franchise ) he accepts this. He accepts he is seen as worthless unlike Hajime, and he uses this to help bring more hope. he Tries to get people to kill him for hope ALL THE FUCKING TIME, until he eventually decides to do it himself when he finds out everyone is despair. he decides to become the savior for hope and talent. Hajime submits to talent and hope, while Nagito completely dominates the concept.

In conclusion, Nagito Komaeda is a character who hates the cycle he believes he’s been subjected to, but also thinks it is the most useful tool. He hates his life and wants a different one, but doesn’t think it is possible, so he attempts to find self-worth and satisfaction in something that is possible: helping to create hope for the future of humankind.

What if I said that Nagito's luck cycle isn't even real? In a way, because his belief is such a strong force to his luck's effectiveness, maybe the only reason this cycle hes in exists is because he believes its true. Maybe he could have a normal life if he believed in it, but his life long misfortune has cemented this outlook in his mind too much. This is why I think Makoto x Nagito is the healthiest choice for Nagito but that's a rant for another time. ;3

#nagito komaeda #askies

13 notes · View notes

robinruns · 2 months

Text

Nearly three years on, and I'm still realizing new ways my dad's passing has impacted things.

My mom's CONSTANTLY anxious about Shandy. "The other two goldens we had weren't this sickly at this age." Or maybe you weren't paying attention the same way? Maybe you were distracted by things going on with dad or me? Now it's just those two alone together. I hate to say it, but all she has is the dog to dwell on. And she only has me to talk to about it.

I'm tired of her making me anxious. I hate situations where I can't help, and she just dumps all this on me and then fucks off and I'm left to deal with it. I'm already so tired from it being the end of the week and now she's starting this shit.

"I just feel like there's more going on." Don't tell me, tell the vet!! You were literally there today FFS! "She's seemed under the weather and I've been trying to blow it off." Well then don't!!! "I brought it up to the vet." AND?!?! Like my god you can't fix something if you don't address it!!

Oh my god I'm just so tired. She has been since Day 1 treating Shandy different than she's treated any other dog and it's pissed me off the whole time. She was almost ready to get rid of her when she was a puppy because she didn't know how to play with her!!! UGH.

I swear to God she's gonna use this as an excuse to not go to the FOB show. I just know it. Fucking hell.

9 notes · View notes

grailfinders · 8 months

Text

Grailfinders #317: Okita Souji Saber Alter

congratulations on surviving to summer, everyone! today on Grailfinders we’re starting off our summer right with Okita Souji Alter (Saber)! is she even really an alter at this point? whatever! she’s still a Horizon Walker Ranger to cut through space and time, but we also have to pick up Rengoku from daycare! Echo Knight was tempting, though they don’t really fight separately, and while he is a sentient sword, I feel a little warlock’d out… let’s go Strength Cleric instead. I promise this will make sense as we go. probably.

check out their build breakdown below the cut, or their character sheet here!

next up: GODDAMN HOT

Race and Background

second time, same stuff. Okita is still a Custom Race, custom designed to fight in a single battle. and to hang out on the beach, I guess. she’s also still a Far Traveler. all that together gives her +2 Dexterity, some Darkvision to nae-nae on her regular saber self, and proficiency with Insight and Perception. she also gets the Mobile feat for free, giving you an extra 10 of movement per turn, the ability to ignore difficult terrain while dashing, and you prevent opportunity attacks from creatures you’ve tried to attack this turn. this Okita actually wears armor this go around, so we couldn’t really get the monk speed boost again- that makes every inch of extra movement we get all the more important.

Ability Scores

your highest score should be in Wisdom. counter guardians have usually spent a little time in the future, so you have more information than most servants. normally that would be high intelligence, but really the difference between intelligence and wisdom are negligible and we need the latter wayyy more. after that, Dexterity. even though you wear “armor” now, it only covers half your body, so dodging is always in vogue. third is Charisma. you’re like three different flavors of warlock, even if we’re not getting levels from it. plus, you have a kid now, kids are cute. after that is Constitution. you’re mostly here to be a looper, but you’re less sickly than Okita. not that that’s saying much. that means our Strength isn’t great- don’t worry, we’ll get something to make it worthwhile later- and we’re dumping Intelligence. you’re pretty spacey, and while that would normally be wisdom, we need that for more than multiclassing this time around.

Class Levels

1. Ranger 1: starting as a ranger gets you proficiency in two saves as well as three skills, one more than usual. your Strength and Dexterity saves are great, as are your Athletics checks to run faster, Stealth Checks to move invisibly, and your Investigation checks to figure out who the hell you’re fighting. most times FGO characters are pretty forthright with their true names, but that’s no reason to rest on your laurels.

first level rangers can also pick out a Favored Foe when you attack them, marking the enemy for a minute and dealing extra damage once a turn when you attack them. you can do this proficiency times per day, and the damage increases as you level up. I’d call this “worse hunter’s mark”, but it does free up spell slots. and is worse.

you’re also Canny with Athletics now, so that’s a double proficiency bonus on all your checks. at least you won’t fall on your face while running at mach 10.

2. Ranger 2:second level rangers pick their Fighting Style, and Dueling will improve your shortsword’s damage so it’s more Rengoku-y. we’re not going for a longsword this time since we can’t monk it into a finesse weapon, and also because we need our hand free for Rengoku. who is also holding a sword in their hand. Honestly two weapon fighting wouldn’t be a bad pick either.

anyways, you also get Spells this level, which you cast using your Wisdom. Hunter’s Mark adds extra damage to all your weapon attacks against a specific target, and hits harder than FF, and can be swapped to another enemy if the first dies before the spell does. the downside is it will eat up your bonus action a lot of the time. if you’d rather only worry about hitting once and still getting that d6 of damage every turn, you can use a Searing Smite, spicing up your sword and dealing fire damage on a hit, plus an additional d6 of fire each turn the target fails a constitution save or doesn’t use its action to put itself out.

3. Ranger 3: at third level your Primeval Awareness gives you knowledge about whether or not there are any weird creatures nearby by spending a spell slot. it doesn’t tell you where they are, so it’s not that great, but Okita can’t talk to dogs, I think.

on the plus side, she also becomes a Horizon Walker, giving her a bunch of extra spells to make up for it thanks to her Horizon Walker Magic. right now you get Protection from Evil and Good for free to defend against higher-tier servants, but more will come as we go.

you can also Detect Portal once per short rest, telling you exactly where the nearest portal is in a mile around you. I guess a hole in reality is a lot easier to find than a dragon.

you’re also a Planar Warrior once again, letting you spend a bonus action to call your shot, turning your next attack against a specific creature into force damage, and dealing an extra d8 of damage to boot.

you also get one more first-level spell this level, so pick up Longstrider to stride even longer. it doesn’t even use concentration, so you that’s a worry-free extra 10 feet of movement for up to an hour.

4. Ranger 4: use your first Ability Score Improvement to round up your Wisdom score with the Resilient feat. this also makes you proficient with wisdom saves. that’s magic resistance, baby!

5. Ranger 5: speaking of magic, fifth level rangers learn second level spells. Misty Step is free, and it lets you move so fast it’s like you’re teleporting! (it’s because mechanically, you are) you can also turn Rengoku into a Magic Weapon now, adding +1 to their attack and damage rolls, plus sidestepping all those pesky resistances to nonmagical attacks.

but uh, we still haven’t gotten Rengoku yet, have we? the baby, I mean. let’s deal with that.

6. Cleric 1: calling the amassed survival instinct of humanity a god is probably a stretch, but Alaya’s cool enough that I’ll let it slide. after all, that’s where you get your Strength from, right?

as an Acolyte of Strength you have proficiency with heavy armor, as well as a free proficiency (Survival) and a free druid cantrip (Thunderclap). that’s all well and good, but we’re here more for the spell list. oh right, you get another Spell list, it still uses your Wisdom, check the PHB to see how many slots you have at a given point.

Guidance and Resistance will make you a little better than everyone else in either your skill checks or saves, while Light helps us get the special effects on your flashier attacks.

you also get some free first level spells. Divine Favor adds radiant damage to all your weapon attacks for a minute- it’s weaker than hunter’s mark, but if you’re fighting undead or just like, a ton of weak guys, this is easier to swap enemies on. if you’re going on defense, Shield of Faith can give you +2 AC for up to ten minutes, and you can even use it on allies. it’s hard to hit someone when a swaby (sword baby) is in the way.

you can also prepare spells of your choosing each time you wake up- Inflict Wounds is one of the fastest and simplest ways to turn spell slots into damage, especially at low levels.

7. Cleric 2: at level two, clerics can Channel Divinity once per short rest, picking between two different flavors- Turn Undead forces a wisdom save on undead creatures, making them run away. the real selling point here is your Feat of Strength, however. with this, you can add a +10 bonus to not only an Attack Roll, but any strength check or save as part of the roll. it’s a straight upgrade from the War cleric, though I admit war’s bonus action attack does admittedly map to rengoku better. if your DM doesn’t like Amonkhet or you just want a more vanilla d&d experience, war is a good substitute for strength.

8. Cleric 3: at third level you gain second level cleric spells, including your freebies Enhance Ability and Protection from Poison, two spells clerics already had. again, we’re here for the spells you can choose, like Augury to use some future info to your advantage, or Spiritual Weapon to let Rengoku run wild.

9. Cleric 4: use this next ASI to bump up your Dexterity for more defense and more accurate swordings. you can also use another cleric cantrip now, like Toll the Dead. I don’t particularly care for the flavor on this one, but you’re pretty offensively oriented, and tolling someone who is already injured deals damage, and that’s the name of your game. actually it’s Fate, but hush.

10. Cleric 5: at fifth level your turn undead turns into Destroy Undead, instantly killing any zombe of CR ½ or lower who gets got by your channel divinity. I haven’t seen Okita fight a zombie before, but maybe that’s why she wasn’t invited to the horror movie camp.

we also get third level spells this level including the ultimate mobility tool Haste. it doubles your movement speed, increases your AC, and buffs your dex saves, plus it gives you an extra action to smack stuff or dash. it’s good shit. sure, you need to take a turn off when it drops, but it’s summer! you should be relaxing anyway. you also get Protection from Energy for free, it’s not quite invincibility, but we’re working on it. you can also summon Spirit Guardians around you, dealing damage when its not your turn and slowing down foes. letting Rengoku off the leash is fun, but it’s probably a good idea to keep them close, yknow?

11. Ranger 6: at sixth level, your favored foe becomes stronger, so now it’s half as good as hunter’s mark! you’re also Roving, giving you another five feet of movement speed plus a climbing and swimming speed, perfect for summer!

12. Ranger 7: seventh level horizon walkers have an Ethereal Step, giving you one turn of Etherealness. for this turn you can move without worrying about the bounds of gravity, or anything else really. on the ethereal plane, only other ethereal things and people can affect you, allowing you to pass through walls for a turn. just be careful where you land, if you end your turn inside an object, you will take damage.

if you’d rather just make it look like you teleported, you can Pass Without Trace. this gives your whole party a massive boost to their stealth checks, and you don’t leave footprints anymore! it won’t help you move faster, but you’ll definitely be light on your feet!

13. Ranger 8: at eighth level you get another ASI, so become a War Caster. rangers don’t get a lot of spells, so getting advantage on concentration saves to keep your damage buffs up is huge. also, if you go the two-handed rengoku path you can now cast spells with both hands full of sword. on top of that, you can cast spells instead of making an attack of opportunity, as long as it only targets the triggering creature.

you also have Land’s Stride. now you can… ignore plants! and their difficult terrain. base ranger is so bad y’all I s2g

14. Ranger 9: moving on from that travesty, third level spells again! you get Haste for free yet again, but you can also cast Water Walk now. it’s a shame you can’t have both of these up at a time, but even with haste you can’t monk your way over water. it’s coolness vs. practicality, a tale as old as time.

15. Ranger 10: tenth level rangers are Tireless, so proficiency times a day you can gain temporary HP as an action, plus you heal from exhaustion on short rests now too! that’s nice, summer’s too short to sleep. so is Fall and winter tbh, and I have my doubts about spring… I am so tired.

anyway! you can also hide in Nature’s Veil as a bonus action, making you invisible for a round. it’s kind of like your skill 3, right? you can do this proficiency times per day, and it wont break when you attack, so I guess this is your noble phantasm! well, not quite yet, we still need…

16. Ranger 11: Distant Strike is your penultimate power from your subclass, allowing you to teleport before each attack you make as part of your attack action. additionally, if you attack two different creatures with your attack action, you get a third attack against a third creature.

you can also Conjure Barrage now. I don’t know why you can summon magic attacks in your third ascension, but dammit if it doesn’t look cool.

17. Ranger 12: use your final ASI to max out your Dexterity for the most ac and the most stabby stabbings you can stab.

18. Ranger 13: thirteenth level rangers get fourth level spells. Banishment is neat, it kind of fits in with the planet protector vibe you’ve got going, but the prize here is Guardian of Nature. with this spell, you can turn into one of two natural monsters. the great tree is nice, but we’re here entirely for the Primal Beast, which gives you a faster walking speed, increased darkvision, advantage on strength-based attacks so… whoops on that one, and you deal extra force damage on each melee hit, no marks required. it’s not a huge improvement over other spells you have, but it is all those spells put together.

19. Ranger 14: as a fourteenth level ranger your favored foes take a d8 of extra damage, and you can Vanish as a bonus action. it’s hiding, it’s just hiding. you also can’t be tracked by nonmagical means, but if your enemies are still using nonmagical means by level 19 your DM is doing something wrong.

20. Ranger 15: our final level comes with our final horizon walker goody, the Spectral Defense. whenever you take damage, you can react to gain resistance to that attack’s damage this turn. that’s how you can wear armor and still only have it cover your legs.

you also have Freedom of Movement now. I know you can already teleport, but that’s a once per day thing! with freedom of movement you can break through shackles easily while saving your big guns for later.

Pros and Cons

Pros:

much like the… can we really call Okita Alter the original here? the “original but not quite completely”, I guess, you’re pretty hard to hit, being able to teleport all over the place. add in your myriad of teleportations and invisibility, and just keeping a bead on you is near-impossible. you also have more ways to gain resistance to damage this time around, though missing out on evasion is pretty rough.

while you’re not a kensei monk anymore, you do still have access to some accurate attacks, thanks in part to your maxed out dexterity as well as your Feat of Strength. sure it only works on one hit, but so do most of your ranger damage will be in that one anyway- the extra attack is really there for consistency.

Rangers tend to do best when focusing on a single target, but you specialize in dealing damage in crowds, especially with cleric providing you Divine Favor to deal extra damage to everything instead of your chosen target. Moving from person to person also gives you even greater mobility than you already had!

Cons:

part of the reason we went cleric was to get your clunkier armor, but you don’t really have the strength to pull off anything that isn’t completely out-classed by your own dexterity. Cleric has plenty of other goodies to make up for it, but not being able to properly enter one of your ascensions is rough.

your spells are also middling at best, especially if you’re playing to character and mostly using the ranger ones. seriously, Conjure Barrage is entirely there to fill a quota. Cleric has an amazing spell list, but it doesn’t get used much here. if you’re playing at home, definitely feel free to branch out.

you’re a lot slower than the previous okitalter, and while more than sixty feet a turn is a little excessive in most situations, horizon walkers actually have a chance to use that speed effectively- Ethereal Step gives you a chance to fly for a turn, but every foot up or down costs two feet of movement. you’re still going to be faster than most of the party, but just barely.

#fgo #fate grand order #D&D 5e #DND #Okita Souji Alter

23 notes · View notes

iwant-fuitgummi · 10 months

Text

Mondstadt character headcanons! Also I'm giving them all surnames. Mond characters are the only ones I'll be doing this for since I'm not sure how Asian surnames work (I am white) and don't want to do them wrong.

this is part 1 of mondstadt due to the image limit

(FF = Found Family)

pt. 2 here

kaeya hc here

Amber Hasenkamp

she/they

Trans Woman, Asexual, Biromantic

Dating Eula

Family: Collei (FF Sister), Barbara (FF Sister)

Best Friend: Traveler

Has ADHD

Both legs are amputated at the shin. She was in a gliding accident which resulted in her feet being crushed.

She wears braces on each wrist.

Occasionally has bouts of amnesia. She had a few too many concussions as a kid, and they still affect her to this day.

The surname I picked out for her, Hasenkamp, is German and means a field of bunnies.

Lisa Minci

she/her

Cisgender Woman, Pansexual

Engaged to Jean

Family: Klee (FF Sister), Razor (Adopted Son), Cyno (FF Brother)

Best Friend: Kaeya Alberich-Ragnvindr

Due to her curse, she is very pale and sickly looking. She also has white hairs and deep eyebags.

She is developing arthritis in her right hand. She's ambidextrous, though, so she doesn't have to worry about writing.

She suffers from chronic back pain and insomnia. She also has severe anxiety, but she hides it pretty well. She buries herself in books as a distraction.

She takes care of Mondstadt's strays when they aren't at the Cat's Tail. She even adopted one to keep in the library. Her name is Puppy (Razor named her) and she is the most chill and affectionate cat you'll ever meet.

Lisa drinks a LOT of tea. She infuses some of it with magic to help with the curse.

Kaeya will have his own post, I have a lot of thoughts about him.

Jean Gunnhildr

she/her

Cisgender Woman, Lesbian

Engaged to Lisa

Family: Federica Gunnhildr (Mother), Seamus Pegg (Father), Barbara Pegg (Sister), Klee Babler (FF Sister), Kaeya (FF Brother), Razor Minci (Soon to be stepson)

Best Friend: Eula Lawrence

Has tea with Lisa daily. She tries out new foreign teas that Lisa has shipped in from other nations.

Insomniac. She never gets enough sleep. Lisa gives her melatonin pills and chamomile tea at night when she thinks it's getting too late. When Jean eventually falls asleep at her desk, Lisa gently moves a pillow under her face and drapes a blanket over her shoulders.

Jean tries to be a good sister and spend time with Barbara, but she's so overwhelmed with work that she has no time to do so. She sends letters to the Cathedral with mora and even little coupons for peppers from Liyue and Sumeru.

Barbara Pegg

she/her

Transgender Girl, Aroace Lesbian

Family: Federica Gunnhildr (Mother), Seamus Pegg (Father), Jean Gunnhildr (Sister), Rosaria Nacht (FF Sister), Amber Hasenkamp (FF Sister), Kaeya Alberich-Ragnvindr (FF Brother)

Best Friend: Noelle Degenhardt

Barbara has an eating disorder that has left her with severe body image issues.

She's incredibly paranoid, and has been since she was a little kid. Albert made it much worse.

She has severe panic attacks when she's alone as she's afraid she's being watched. Noelle, Amber, and Rosaria spend a lot of time with her to help her feel safe.

Rosaria and Kaeya taught her how to use a polearm and a sword. She's not the best, but she can defend herself.

She carries one of Rosaria's knives concealed in her book at all times.

Noelle Degenhardt

she/he

Bigender, Asexual, Biromantic

Family: Knights of Favonius (Found Family)

Best Friend: Barbara Pegg

Has a huge crush on Barbara, but is too afraid to say anything.

Acts as Barbara's personal knight when she's not doing maid stuff.

He has self worth issues due to the amount of times he's been rejected by the KOF.

Loves listening to Barbara's music. It helps calm her down when she's stressed.

The surname I gave her, Degenhardt, means young warrior.

Bennett Faust

he/him

Cisgender Boy, Asexual, Biromantic, Polyamorous

Currently Dating Razor and Fischl

Family: Adventurer's guild (Dads), Kaeya Alberich-Ragnvindr (FF Brother), Mika Schmidt (FF Brother)

Best Friend: Razor Minci

Bennett is partially blind and hard of hearing.

He has POTS (Extreme dizziness, fatigue, and increased heart rate when standing up from laying down. Often causes fainting.)

He has a border collie service dog named Keyes that goes on adventures with him. She carries small bags. One carries water bottles, and the other carries salty snacks and medication for his POTS. Her collar has an alarm button that sends a signal to Fischl, Razor, Mika, and Kaeya that lets them know that he's in trouble.

He has VERY severe ADHD. It's honestly impressive.

The surname I gave him, Faust, means lucky. Ironic, I know.

Razor Minci

they/he

Agender, Aroace, Polyamorous

Currently Dating (QPR) Bennett and Fischl

Family: Wolvendom Wolves, Andrius, Lisa Minci (Adoptive Mom), Jean Gunnhildr (Soon to be stepmom), Klee Babler (FF Sister), Rosaria Nacht (FF Sister)

Best Friend: Bennett Faust

Has selective mutism. Lisa taught him sign language so that he can still communicate when this happens. She also taught Bennett and Fischl so they can understand them and help them get out of the situation that's causing them stress

Since they're aroace, they are in a QPR with Bennett and Fischl. Bennett and Fischl are in a romantic relationship, while their relationship with Razor is platonic, if that makes sense.

Klee Babler

she/her

Family: Alice Babler (Mom), Jean Gunnhildr (FF Sister), Albedo Kreideprinz (FF Brother), Sucrose Hertz (FF Sister), Kaeya Alberich-Ragnvindr (FF Brother), Lisa Minci (FF Sister), Razor Minci (FF Brother)

Best Friend: Diona Katzlein

Always covered in soot and ashes.

She's almost completely Deaf because of her bombs. She wears hearing aids that Albedo and Sucrose designed specifically for her ears. She also knows sign language in case she forgets to wear them.

She often communicates with Razor in sign language. Diona also knows sign, so they sign to each other in secret so the people in the Cat's Tail can't understand them.

Speaking of Diona, the two of them go "fishing" together. They also go searching for yucky ingredients. Klee scares them out of their hiding spots, and Diona grabs them! Perfect teamwork.

She has a matching friendship bracelet with Diona.

The surname I gave her, Babler, means small.

Venti Konig

Any pronouns

~22 (physically), 2600+

Genderfluid, Biromantic, Androsexual

Family: None

In an unlabeled relationship with Diluc

Best Friend: Zhongli

Although the Nameless Bard was a teenager when they died, Venti made sure to alter the form so that he was still an adult. After all, it'd be a shame if he wasn't allowed to drink and date, right? Venti would be miserable without alcohol!

He flirts with Xiao a lot, even though they're not a couple. Don't worry, Diluc doesn't mind.

She teaches the kids of Mondstadt how to play the lyre, among other various instruments.

They spend a lot of time on the roof of Dawn Winery playing music. Adelinde has to get them down with a broom.

He lives in one of Diluc's spare bedrooms at the winery.

They often take trips to Liyue to visit Zhongli and Xiao. They play the flute for Xiao and drink wine with Zhongli. They also bring cecelias over and bring back glaze lilies.

LOVES flowers btw.

Knows how to play every instrument perfectly

The surname I chose for him, Konig, means king.

22 notes · View notes

bethanydelleman · 1 year

Text

Asks about my OTPs

Pick your top 10 OTPs without reading the questions, then answer the questions after you've made your list (I will do my top 10 Austen OTPs)

Catherine Morland & Henry Tilney

Fanny Price & Henry Crawford

Elizabeth Bennet & Fitzwilliam Darcy

Harriet Smith & Robert Martin

Caroline Bingley & Sir Walter Elliot

Elinor Dashwood & Edward Ferrars

Marianne Dashwood & Colonel Brandon

Emma Woodhouse & Jane Fairfax

Eleanor Tilney & her laundry Viscount

Sir Walter & Himself

1. Do you remember the episode/scene/chapter that you first started shipping 6? – When Edward comes to Barton and makes fun of Marianne's love of dead trees.

2. Have you ever read a fanfic about 2? – Yes, my favourite is Fanny: A Mansfield Park Story by Amelia Marie Logan, and I've written severa, including one full length novel.

3. Has a picture of 4 ever been your screen saver/profile picture/tumblr screen saver? – Nope! Always my kids these days.

4. If 7 were to suddenly break up today, what would your reaction be? – This actually happens in FF quite a lot, people are always killing off Brandon early into the marriage and leaving Marianne with a baby. It makes me sad, let Brandon be happy! He's only 37 when they marry he probably has another 20 years at least! (Honestly, since Brandon has survived to his age, Marianne actually has a higher chance of passing away since she's the one making babies).

5. Why is 1 so important? – Because they are so uncomplicated and happy. Just two very cute people making a cute marriage and I would defend their ship to the ends of the earth.

6. Is 9 a funny ship or a serious ship? – Um, it's a whole joke that Austen didn't reveal a new character because the new viscount made a laundry list that Catherine found. But I love Eleanor so much that I do seriously want her to be happy.

7. Out of all the ships listed, which ship has the most chemistry? – Henry & Catherine, Harriet & Robert I think? I may be a bad judge of "chemistry".

8. Out of all your ships listed, which ship has the strongest bond? – Elinor & Edward, I'm always surprised how sure they are of the other's love in spite of of all the obstacles.

9. How many times have you read/watched the 10’s fandom? - I honestly don't know at this point, I read Persuasion once as a teenager and I didn't like it but I LOVED Sir Walter. I've watched all the adaptations (including 1971) and I've read/listened to the book multiple times now.

10. Which ship has lasted the longest? – Sir Walter & himself obviously, that's been going strong for 54 years. I hope it continues until his death at 93. All the others are new pairings.

11. How many times, if ever, has 6 broken up? – The only Austen couple to break up and get back together is Anne & Wentworth, so zero for Elinor & Edward.

12. If the world was suddenly thrust into a zombie apocalypse, which ship would make it out alive, 2 or 8? – Huh, Fanny & Henry or Emma & Jane? They both have a sickly member, which is not great for their odds... Emma is smart but often distracted which would be really bad but Jane is a devoted learner.... Henry would "improve" his estate with zombie moats... I'm voting for both Fanny and Emma don't make it and Henry Crawford & Jane Fairfax find their second true pairing together.

13. Did 7 ever have to hide their relationship for any reason? – Colonel Brandon is attempting to hide his regard out of respect for Marianne and that's why I love him so much.

14. Is 4 still together? – Yes, eating walnuts and petting "her" little cow. Man they are cute!

15. Is 10 canon? – Yep! Though a bunch of the others aren't

16. If all 10 ships were put into a couple’s Hunger Games, which couple would win? – I'm going to put my money on Colonel Brandon, who will do anything to save Marianne. He would be the Katniss and she is the Peeta.

17. Has anybody ever tried to sabotage 5’s ship? – Yes, Mr. Elliot has been trying to prevent Sir Walter from marrying again so he can inherit the baronetcy. He almost succeeds!

18. Which ship would you defend to the death and beyond? – Catherine Morland and Henry Tilney, they are the only couple I can't bring myself to break up in fan fiction.

19. Do you spend hours a day going through 3’s tumblr page? – Um, none? I end up seeing Elizabeth & Darcy stuff no matter what, I have tags on the lesser known Austen characters.

20. If an evil witch descended from the sky and told you that you had to pick one of the ten ships to break up forever or else she’d break them all forever, which ship would you sink? – That is hard because these are my favourite, but I guess Emma can marry boring Knightley instead of having a torrid enemies-to-lovers affair with Jane Fairfax...

I'm not big on chain letters. Thank you @firawren for the tag, if anyone wants to try go ahead!

#otp #jane austen #jane austen fan fiction #and before you yell at me about leaving off canon hero/heroine pairings #They aren't my favourite #I get to pick my own OTPs!#I ship Henry and Fanny starting at Ch 30 #I love elinor and edward #I'm not wild about some of the others #Henry tilney supremacy #Henry & Catherine make me die of cuteness

21 notes · View notes

totallyexhausted · 9 months

Text

Sick Sasaki with caring Miyano (Aged-up fic) with Flashbacks...

Just small notes on one of the ff’s in case my computer deletes the files again (so I have like a triple backup)...

(Just random-ass notes for right now to have a back-up back-up for myself) - feel free to comment or motivate me lol jk brb crying....

Title: You’re So Cool (Yeah, You Are)

It started with a dull ache behind his eyes as he helped his mother knead dough for whatever the daily pastry was. The familiar action digging into his knuckles as his fingers cramped, and he winced as the dull ache traveled up his arms; and over the course of the morning, through the rest of his body.

His mother had told him to go home several times; his sister even threatening to shove him out the door if he didn’t at least take off early. Towards the end of his shift however, the threats were no longer empty-handed nor needed because Sasaki left willingly. He’d tried to power through the rest of his shift, but the smell of bread, cookies, and other sickly-sweet pastries he normally loved, was overpowering, nauseating; and he was pretty sure Satoko was going to punch him if he stayed longer…

The walk home had been a blur for the most part. A quick train ride that resulted in him jolting awake as the doors dinged open, his stop echoing over the loudspeaker, and whispered chatter from too many people, from too much noise. Sasaki never really registered he’d made it home until he pushed past the threshold of his and Miyano’s one-bedroom apartment, tripping over the white-haired cat as she tangled herself under his feet with a loud meow.

The 21-year-old exhaled loudly as he collapsed face-down against the couch. He pressed his cheek against the crappy blue material, hoping the rough fabric would provide the same cool relief the train window had; his left hand ghosting the wooden ground as the cat nipped at his fingers gently. He shifted, his left leg falling from the couch; his right foot knocking some BL books from the end table.

The couch was way too small- or he was too tall, or both. Miyano could barely stretch out on the discounted furniture, but Sasaki? Sasaki was 6’2… so finding something he didn’t have to curl up on, something he could fully lounge on, was difficult. Being 6’2 was difficult. He was always ducking down, hitting his head, towering over people his age. Intimidating. That’s what Hirano had said once; tall people could be intimidating. A sentiment Sasaki had found ironically hilarious as Kagiura was quite a few inches taller than he; towering over Hirano more than Sasaki did.

The cat meowed again, pawing at the 21-year-old’s fingers before biting his hand, and Sasaki ran his fingers through her white hair tiredly. He inhaled softly, “Hi, Wasabi.”

The cat had been his boyfriend’s idea. A lost kitten found wondering aimlessly outside their university. Needless to say, a stormy night and one look into Miyano’s big brown eyes, and the cat had wormed her way into a loving home. It wasn’t that Sasaki wasn’t a cat person because he was- he just preferred dogs more. He’d been surprised when Miyano brought home the small white ball of fluff, both him and the cat shivering from the rain pelting down outside because it was either carry the kitten or an umbrella. A few days later Sasaki couldn’t imagine their apartment without a cat; just like he couldn’t imagine his life without Miyano.

Sasaki groaned loudly as his phone vibrated in his pocket, and he shifted again, his foot knocking something else from the end table. He needed to stop moving, or at the very least, pick up the objects he’d knocked down. But he was so tired, and the idea of moving from the couch, of sitting up, bending down to pick up manga left out or papers disregarded, seemed like too much of a task. Too exhausting. Too much effort. I’m so lame…

Wasabi meowled, jumping onto his back, rubbing her face in his orange hair and purring loudly. She was probably hungry. She was always hungry… but she’d have to wait because there was no way Sasaki was getting up right now. His head hurt too much; the sun filtering through blinds halfway shut, the cool Autumn air wafting through windows left open, and the noise of children playing outside was enough to make everything feel somewhat wrong and off-kilter. Everything seemed off-kilter. Distant, and yet, so very close; so very loud, and hot.

The 21-year-old’s phone vibrated again, and Sasaki wondered if Miyano was texting him. He’d be in-between classes now, and Sasaki knew his sister had probably texted his boyfriend the second he left the bakery, if not before. Satoko probably had the 20-year-old on speed dial, ready to call his boyfriend to come pick up her giant mess of a brother if he hadn’t left when he did. She’d always been that way; overprotective, and so goddamn stubborn.

Sasaki cleared his throat, pulling his arm back on the couch, tucking it under his chest as he shivered. Something clattered to the ground as he tried pulling his leg back on the tiny futon, and Wasabi scattered from the room as the 21-year-old cursed softly. He really really needed to stop moving before he broke everything in the living room. Sasaki huffed as he let his foot slam against the floor again and closed his eyes.

He probably could have crashed in the bedroom; at least there was less stuff for him to knock on the ground there, and it was darker. But it was too far away, and he needed to get up soon; he needed to cook dinner. It was Tuesday which meant he was in charge of making food. It was one of his boyfriend’s busiest days, just like Thursdays and Saturdays were his; besides, Miyano cooked every Thursday; hell, he cooked most of the time since they started living together last year, so the 21-year-old could at least take care of Tuesdays. He could at least do that for him because it felt like Miyano did everything else. Sasaki was just so useless sometimes. So damn useless.

…His fingers were so cold; fingertips tracing the warm flesh painted on Sasaki’s chest, and the 19-year-old held Miyano’s gaze. He couldn’t look away- he didn’t want to… Miyano, I love…

He opened his eyes and shifted to his back, grimacing at the small action as nausea coursed through him. He put a hand on his stomach slowly as the ceiling above him spun. He’d barely eaten anything today, but with how he was feeling now, he’d probably forgo dinner. Maybe he’d make something simple; something easy; something he didn’t have to put a lot of effort into, so Miyano could at least eat. As long as Miyano was okay, as long as he was taken care of, then the rest didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

Wasabi reappeared, jumping up on the futon again as Sasaki let his right arm dangle off the couch, smacking it against the leg of the coffee table. He pulled his legs up so his feet rested against the end of the couch instead of the now free end table. It was cramped. He was cramped, but at least the room stopped moving; and the nausea subsided.

The 21-year-old groaned, swallowing as children screamed in the alley below. He closed his eyes again, sighing as the white cat cuddled between the crook of his neck and the back of the couch, licking at his piercings. Sasaki turned his head away from her, hoping she’d get the message and stop, but Wasabi was a cat- so what was he really expecting?

She meowed noisily in his ear before licking at the piercings again. They were shiny. Small. Distracting. And Wasabi was either trying to be affectionate or trying to eat them; her two moods; either cute and cuddly or the devil disguised as a 4-pound ball of fluff.

He just needed to rest his eyes for a few minutes…

………………………………

The second time he’d gotten drunk, he’d been 19. The first on his 16th birthday which was an accident on his mother’s part, unaware of the percentage of alcohol in some foreign sweet drink she’d gifted him… But the second time? The second time had been all him.

It started as a misunderstanding on Sasaki’s part. His stupid impulses and selfish attitude. His lameness. He’d thought Miyano was breaking up with him; after all, they’d gotten into an argument. Something stupid and unimportant. But an argument, nonetheless. And Sasaki had told him he loved him. For the first time. Out loud.

Hirano and Ogasawara had tried to help; had tried to cheer him up, but they didn’t help much. Neither did the alcohol, despite there being a lot of it. Honestly, he hadn’t meant to get as drunk as he did- after all, he hated the taste of alcohol… but, Hirano and Ogasawara had Sake, which was sweeter; and the easiest way to get over his own stupidity, was, in the 19-year-old’s mind, to get drunk.

Whatever he and his friends had done that night, Sasaki couldn’t remember. Well, most of it, he couldn’t. He did, however, remember fireworks. Ordering enough Sake to satisfy a small village. A convenience store with way too many snack choices. Several drinks with names too serious for its size. An old man threatening them. Ogasawara arguing on the phone with his girlfriend while him and Hirano made fun of him. Vomiting. Hirano drunk dialing Kagiura. More fireworks. Cheap beer. Some guys shoving him against a wall before Hirano tackled them. A window breaking. Running from the cops. Falling off some swings. Taking way too many train rides to God knows where. And finally, Hanzawa basically carrying him to his apartment which was weird because he hadn’t been with them to begin with. But everything else in-between or figuring out how those events connected together or in what order, was anyone’s guess.

He’d woken up the next morning in his sister’s room when she threw a bottle of water his direction demanding he drink it since the 19-year-old had apparently stumbled through the door, puking up bitter-tasting Sake and cheap beer on her floor, before passing out on her bed, crying over Miyano.

That’d honestly been the first time he’d ever sought his sister for comfort, and the first time she’d openly known about him and Miyano. It wasn’t like Sasaki had hidden it, but it wasn’t like she’d asked either. Or maybe she didn’t really care; or figured her brother would tell her when he was ready. And evidently, at 3am, drunk off his ass, he was ready.

It wasn’t a fond experience in Sasaki’s book, mainly because he spent the day after powering through a shift with a headache from hell and stopping every half hour so he could step into the alley to vomit, but it was nice to see his sister cared enough to be there for him; after calling him the biggest idiot she’d ever known. She’d called Miyano when his shift ended as the younger had been texting non-stop since Sasaki had stormed out of his room the day before; but the older teenager had been too afraid to glance at the messages scribbled across his phone.

Sasaki hadn’t known Satoko had called Miyano until he slid down the side of the concrete building of the bakery after taking the trash out and throwing up the last of the foul-tasting alcohol souring his stomach. He held his head between his knees as someone nudged his foot, and Sasaki glanced up, squinting against the sun hanging high in the sky towards Miyano standing over him, holding out one of the sweet peach drinks he liked. Honestly seeing him, the older thought he was going to puke again, but he accepted the cold beverage.

Miyano slid down next to him, sighing loudly as Sasaki felt his breathing catch, his heart racing. He didn’t really want to see the younger teen, mainly because he was too afraid of his answer; too afraid he’d reject him. Too afraid he’d end it. Just like Hanzawa and-

“What are you doing here, Mya-chan?” He asked softly, opening the drink, taking a few tentative sips before wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. He swallowed loudly as the younger sighed again, “You weren’t answering. I was worried about you… and your sister called me.”

Sasaki clicked his tongue; he told her he didn’t want to see Miyano, that he couldn’t talk to him right now, but she called anyway. Typical. Brat.

The 19-year-old smacked the back of his head against the wall, glaring towards the sun as he took another slow sip. He clenched his other hand against his thigh as the thought of running invaded his mind. He wanted to leave because that’s what he did. When things got too difficult. Or too upsetting. Or too much. When his emotions felt like too much, and he didn’t know how to deal; he left. He always left. Because he was more afraid of what would happen if he stayed. If he hurt someone. Again. Like he’d hurt his sister a few years ago… Perhaps that’s why Satoko called Miyano when she did, because he was trapped; he was forced to talk to the 18-year-old; forced to deal with his emotions…

“Look, Miya,” Sasaki whispered, his voice low and shaky, “I’m sorry about yesterday. It was selfish when I-”

“Wait. Sasaki, I think you misunderstood. Sometimes it’s hard to find the words- to get the point across…” Miyano cut in softly, “I wasn’t telling you I didn’t- I wasn’t saying we should break-up. Honestly, I’d hate that. I mean, I don’t know- that would suck. It’d be horrible because…”

Sasaki swallowed again, his breath hitching as he took another drink, drowning the anxiety sitting in his stomach, the sick taste of sake haunting his throat. Every movement Miyano made, every breath he took, every syllable, becoming the older teenager’s only sounding board as cold fingers intertwined with his shaking ones pressed against his thigh. Sasaki felt like he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t think. He didn’t want to do or say anything that would fuck this up; he didn’t want to move the wrong way, say the wrong thing, express anything wrong, impulsive, selfish… and yet…

“I-I, yesterday, I was trying to,” Miyano paused momentarily, glancing towards Sasaki, “I want us to move in together- if you want to, and if you need some time to think about it, that’s okay. I love you, and I don’t want to pressure you; I mean you waited so long for me to-”

Sasaki choked on his drink, coughing loudly as the words hit him, and he put the bottle on the ground, wiping away the sweet liquid dribbling from his chin before turning towards Miyano. He felt his heart lurch as he pressed his hand against the 18-year-old’s cheek, cold fingers meeting warm flesh, and he pulled the younger boy towards him; his lips ghosting over Miyano’s before Sasaki breathed and pulled away sharply. He lingered before dropping his hand, letting it rest against the younger teenager’s chest, his heartbeat strong and fast. Matching the fast-paced breath leaving Sasaki’s lips, matching his heart pounding against his ribs.

“S-sorry,” he muttered, looking around sheepishly as the impulsive action left him, “I didn’t mean to do that- I- my mouth probably tastes disgusting right now.”

Miyano hummed, his fingers grasping harder at Sasaki’s still pressed against his thigh. He shifted as Sasaki dropped his hand from his chest and snaked his own fingers up the older teenager’s neck, his hand stopping at Sasaki’s jaw line as the 19-year-old glanced in his direction. Miyano moved closer, pulling the older towards him as the sweet smell of bread that clung to Sasaki’s clothes everyday reached his nose, and he smiled.

“I don’t care. I love you,” Miya whispered as Sasaki hesitated, his lips hovering over Miyano’s before the younger teenager pulled him the rest of the way towards him…

He didn’t need to open his eyes to know it was dark now. The sun that had pierced through his clenched eyelids a few mere hours beforehand, no longer present; the soft chirping of crickets hidden in patches of grass littered along the alley, and the soft breeze of an imminent rainstorm blowing through the open windows, made everything clear. So no, Sasaki didn’t need to open his eyes to know a significant amount of time had passed. Nor did he need someone to tell him that the reason Wasabi was angrily attacking his foot as his right leg hung off the couch, pulling his body dangerously towards the floor, was due to the fact that he’d missed feeding her. Her loud mewling and harsh bites were more than enough to get the message across. He’d fucked up in his fatherly duties towards her.

He did, however, flinch when he felt cool fingers press against his forehead, and cheek, before running through his sweaty hair. He groaned loudly, leaning into the soft touch as he tried to think of who else would have a key to his and Miyano’s apartment. His sister? His mother… She wouldn’t care enough to come over. Hirano? Ogasawara? Although Ogasawara had never once been this gentle towards him even when he was feeling off or had broken bones; and Hirano coming to their apartment without knocking a million times would be weird. Hanzawa would come over, but Sasaki was pretty sure he didn’t have a key… he was resourceful though…

The 21-year-old groaned as he pried his eyes open, wincing as the dusky moonlight hit his eyes, making the room spin in a multitude of greys, blues, and pale browns. He swallowed as he tried moving his arm over his head, to shield his eyes despite forcing them open, but his movements were weak and feeble. Clumsy and stupid. He felt clumsy and stupid. It was annoying.

Fingers paused at his hairline, brushing away bangs matted to his forehead, and Sasaki blinked. He turned his head slightly, his hand pressing against his stomach, and he yelped as sharp teeth bit into one of his toes, jerking his leg away as it slammed against the end table, and something shattered to the ground. There was a shushing sound before a cold hand pressed against his cheek gently, turning his head, and Sasaki blinked again as his eyes slowly met the blurry image of his boyfriend.

…soft material pulled over his orange hair and thrown against the wooden floor. Sasaki held his breath as Miyano pushed him back against the comforter… No one’s going to be home for at least another hour, you know, we could test that theory… His fingers were so cold, and yet so… Miya, are you nervous?

“Hey, Mya-chan,” Sasaki slurred softly, a smile toying on his lips as cool fingers continued to thread through his hair. He sounded drunk. Maybe he was. He’d only been drunk twice in his short existence on this planet, and neither time felt like this, but then again… Words were too hard to form. Exhaustion hung heavy in his eyes, making the world hard to see; a dull ache deep in his bones, riding the piercing headache throbbing through his temples and up his neck. Everything was too warm right now, so nauseatingly warm, and the thought of having to move from his semi-comfortable spot on their too short couch, made Sasaki’s head spin.

“Hey,” Miyano whispered, running his fingers through his boyfriend’s soft strands, “Are you not feeling well, Sasaki? I think you have a fever.”

A fever? The 21-year-old closed his eyes as he tried to process the information. A fever didn’t sound right. He was too cold for that. The night air that pricked against his skin, eating away at the cold sweat plastered beneath his red t-shirt, and tan cardigan he had haphazardly draped over himself in order to keep Wasabi from gnawing at the black bracelets wrapped around his wrist, told him he was cold. Not hot. Besides, he just had a headache… and he was nauseous. And tired… maybe sore from work. But a fever? No, that didn’t sound right.

“I’m fine,” Sasaki hummed, twisting to his side, bringing his knees to his chest slowly as Miya shifted and the couch dipped slightly as the 20-year-old moved to sit on the edge. Sasaki turned further, burying his head against his boyfriend’s thigh as Miyano pressed a steady hand against his back, brushing some sweat-soaked hair away from the latter’s neck. He bit his bottom lip, carding his slender fingers through the older’s hair again before placing a firm hand between his shoulder blades, his fingers cold and worried against warm sticky fabric.

Silence evaded the small living space as thunder clapped in the distance. Outside leaves dragged across the street as wind bustled through the open window, the curtains dancing freely against the breeze. The distant smell of rain lingering on the air, chilling the breath wisping past Sasaki’s dry lips as he pressed his face further against Miya’s thigh. You have to be more mindful, Shuumei, otherwise, if you’re not careful, you’re going to hurt someone you really care about...

“Well, why don’t we check,” The 20-year-old cooed, “I’ll be right back, okay?”

Wasabi meowled loudly as Miyano exited the small living room, and Sasaki ran a hand over his face, trying to rub away some of the exhaustion plaguing his body, trying to will himself to feel better. It was a useless task. And the fact that he had slept so long when he was supposed to make dinner before his boyfriend came home, wasn’t helping his current situation.

He really needed to get up. This was so lame. He was so lame. Sasaki groaned loudly as he uncurled himself, grasping at the arm of the small futon as he forced his body to sit up. The room shifted violently, and the 21-year-old let his head flop against the back of the cushions, sweat trailing lazily past his temple. He grit his teeth, closing his eyes as nausea washed over him, and he put a firm hand against his stomach as he concentrated on the rain beginning to fall. It hit the windowsill softly, clinking against the metal frame before sliding down the rest of the open glass, soaking against the wooden ledge.

Sasaki swallowed. His breathing noisy and congested as he held onto the sound of the rain, the thunder looming in the distance, and Wasabi weaving between his legs. The room around him felt thick. And cold. And any movement he made or tried to make, made his headache worse; made the blood rush to his head, the air dizzy and light. It sucked. He sucked. Great, he was feeling sorry for himself now… How pathetic.

“Hey! Sasaki! Are you okay? Is it worse?”

Nervous footsteps followed by a soft smack against his side, and Sasaki opened his eyes against the warning nauseatingly coursing through his veins, the black dots eating away at his vision, and the headache crawling up his neck, pulsating behind his eyes. He smiled slowly as Miyano pressed his hand against his chest; his mind drifting to the first time. His first. Theirs…

…Miyano’s fingers sliding over his bare chest, sliding down… down… down… He’d been so gentle, and yet, so clear about what he wanted… so dominant- Miya had been surprisingly assertive… it was nice… His cold fingers warming against Sasaki’s back, pressed against his spine, feeling his heart pounding through his chest… fingers…

“Shuumei?”

“I’m fine,” The 21-year-old breathed, or at least, tried breathing through his nose as he ran a shaky hand through his sweaty orange hair. He really needed to get a handle of his current situation because this was weak. He was cooler than this. He wished he was cooler than this. He swallowed again, meeting his boyfriend’s gaze, “I’m sorry about dinner, Mya-chan…”

A small smirk crossed Miyano’s face as he laughed softly, “I’m not worried about it. Your sister said you didn’t look well, so I grabbed something after my 3rd. I just wanted to see you; I was worried about you.”

Sasaki felt his breathing catch, his hand unconsciously moving from his stomach towards Miyano’s pressed against his chest, over his pounding heartbeat. His warm fingers ghosting over the back of the 20-year-old’s hand before he caught himself, recoiling carefully and let his hand drop to his side. He exhaled slowly, forcing himself up further, his whole body protesting the action. He didn’t go to his evening classes… Why. Why would he do that…

“Why? Why wouldn’t you go to your evening classes? They’re important,” Sasaki whispered, blinking several times, clearing the dizziness washing over him as he tried focusing on the emotion present on his boyfriend’s face versus the sick feeling aching in his stomach. Miyano ran a gentle hand through Sasaki’s hair, his hand trailing to his cheek. He grimaced as his fingers met the uncomfortable warmth sitting under the older’s flesh. He cleared his throat, “Well, isn’t it obvious? You don’t feel well. And I wanted to take care of you… I wanted to see you. You’re more important than missing a few classes.”

The 21-year-old let his head gradually drop against Miyano’s shoulder, hoping that the heat he felt crawling up his neck, flushed against his cheeks and ears was due to the fever he supposedly had. His orange hair falling over his face as he tried so damn hard to keep it together. Everything was getting to him right now. Miyano’s touches, his concern, his love; his own emotions washing through him in uncontrollable waves as he fought to keep himself together. But everything was starting to feel like too much. Again. His anxiety, his depression, his weak-willed mind threatening to break against the love he felt for Miyano and the love he was willing to return. Too much… it happened; more so when he felt like shit… when he had a harder time keeping himself in line… Man, Miyano. What you’ve done for me- What you do for me. I like it all, and I-I’m so anxious, so nervous I’m going to fuck it up. I’m going to mess this up… I’m so scared I’m going to ruin it… ruin you… I’m terrified I’m going to hurt you…

Cool fingers against his cheek again, dusting under his chin, pulling his head up, and Sasaki found himself blinking towards his boyfriend; concern etched into his big brown eyes. Miyano cocked his head slightly; thunder echoing outside as the curtains whipped past the open window, rain pelting harder against the sill. Wasabi scattered from the room as lightning hit the roof across the street and a car alarm blared in the distance.

“Let’s see if you have a fever, hm?” Miyano said softly, his hand steadily tracing over Sasaki’s shoulder blades as the older leaned against him, his head returning to the younger’s shoulder. Silence evaded them, filing the small room in an uncomfortable stillness.

that was usually foreign- even Wasabi’s soft pitter patter or purring….

“38.6… You do have a fever,” The 20-year-old confirmed, his voice wavering under a sad tone that hadn’t been there a few minutes before. Sasaki exhaled loudly, turning his head further against Miyano’s shoulder. Sitting up was getting to him. The rain beating against the windowsill was getting to him… he was getting to himself. Everything. Was. Becoming. Too. Much. You’re a big guy… You have to be more mindful, Shuumei… otherwise…

Sorry about that

Sasaki wasn’t really sure what else to say. Hell, he wasn’t even sure if that was the right thing to say, but words were getting difficult to process.

….

You’re a big guy. You’re stronger than you think. You have to be more mindful, Shuumei, otherwise…

“We should get you to bed,” Miya whispered…

A month after they’d moved in, Miyano had suggested a 4-day trip to the coast to celebrate the end of his first term in university. A small vacation since they’d both been stressed, both dealing with the strain of exams, late-night studying, and their hectic schedules they could never seem to sync-up despite living together. It had been a nice idea considering neither one of them had ever been to the beach; and relaxing in the water, discussing the types of BL fantasies Miyano could come up with while laying in the sand together, their fingers intertwined, sounded nice.

The problem was, Sasaki got motion sickness easily, and meds didn’t always help. The train ride to and from university (like in high school), he could usually handle; but taking one that lasted several hours, was torture. He didn’t remember much about the ride except he tried sleeping through most of it; his head leaning against his boyfriend’s shoulder, his fingers intertwined tightly with Miyano’s, and Miyano running his thumb over the outside of his hand in order to offer a small comfort as Sasaki tried keeping down the constant wave of nausea through passing countryside. For the most part, he did well- only vomiting the second he stumbled from the train, and the constant dull ache of sickness pitted in his stomach a few hours after. The ride back had been a completely different story though.

Despite the meds Sasaki had crammed down his throat before the train left the station; a majority of the scenery passed by in a nauseating blur of apologies, and Miyano’s soft touches grounding him in the hellish reality he was trying so hard to black out. Five hours. Five hours pitted against a cool glass window of greens, blues and tans; five hours where every 10 minutes, Sasaki was trying to puke up his stomach lining; five hours with no relief, no form of exhaustion strong enough to rip him from the motion of the giant steam engine powering down unfamiliar tracks. By the time they’d reached their apartment, Sasaki was nothing more than a towering mess of apologies and fatigue. Honestly, it broke Miyano’s heart, and made Sasaki feel weak and lame.

They had barely made it over the threshold before Sasaki collapsed, and Miyano could no longer support his boyfriend’s weight. Despite Miyano standing at a comfortable 5’9, Sasaki was taller and bigger than he was; that made it harder for the younger to help the way he wanted- to care for him the way Sasaki could for him. Needless to say, they’d spent the next few hours sitting in the cramped hallway; Sasaki leaning against Miyano, nodding off between quiet conversations and desperate attempts to stretch his lanky form against a confined space.

I love you, Yoshikazu. I-

This can’t happen, Sasaki.

What?

I mean, I’m graduating next month, and then we’ll both be in university, and I don’t know how much time we’ll have to see each other outside of-

Stop it. … Uh, Sorry. I should go. (leaves)

Miyano.

His voice. Echoes whispered around him in a confusing fashion; hard to grasp as words he couldn’t really make out, a conversation he couldn’t follow, pushed around him.

“…really sick…”

“…can’t keep anything down…yeah, A&E…”

“…40.9…”

“He’s… scaring me…”

He’s scaring me.

“Yoshi…ka…zu…”

Sasaki’s pretty sure the name didn’t make it past his lips; dry heat shoved against aching flesh, pain nauseatingly eating against his cheekbones, running behind his ears, his eyes, down his neck- making every movement, every thought so damn difficult to process. Something was wrong- something felt wrong, off… so very off. He felt-

Cold fingers running through his orange hair softly as he tried repeating the name; hoping, praying that somehow the syllables crawled past his chapped lips; his mouth heavy and dry, moisture sucked through air that was hard to breathe. He groaned loudly as he opened his eyes, biting back the wince that rose up his throat as the dim light hit him; the room spinning in a multitude of sickening colors, his body wavering against stilled sheets, dizzy and nauseating. And. So. Fucking. Hot.

Miyano’s face filled his vision, concerned alarm plastered on pale features, and Sasaki swallowed slowly. He clenched his eyes shut again, the bedroom twirling in a mess of dimly lit pounding, and hot breaths shakily panting past his lips. His breathing was sporadic, harsh, hard to fully take in as air burned against his throat, his lungs, his heart racing, matching a pitch he couldn’t breathe, and he tried to move his hand only to find the task difficult and useless. He was useless. Sometimes. So damn useless. He’s scaring me… I’m afraid of you, Sasaki…

…Fingers pulling his shirt from his body, pulling it over his orange hair before throwing it against the floor, and Sasaki glanced at Miyano as the younger pressed his hand against his bare chest, shoving him back against the older boy’s comforter. The 19-year-old held his breath, letting the younger have control… letting him control the situation, too afraid he’d ruin it, too afraid he’d mess it up.

Miyano fumbled with Sasaki’s belt, his legs on either side of the older boy, and the 19-year-old let his fingers hover before he gripped the 18-year-old’s thighs; his fingertips cold and nervous as he trailed up his body, resting at the hem of Miyano’s white shirt…

Something gripped behind his shoulders, pulling him up, and the 21-year-old whined pitifully as the world shifted, his body forced into a sitting position. He opened his eyes before shutting them as the room moved violently, and he gagged harshly as he let his head fall against someone’s chest; their heartbeat echoing around him, aching against the migraine embedded in his temples. Gentle fingers gripping again at his shoulder; words- words he couldn’t make out, and someone gripping again, trying to move him, trying to get him to move despite Sasaki’s pathetic attempts to curl in on himself.

“Sasaki, please, you need to get up!”

Miyano’s voice reaching his ears, and the older whimpered…

He was so weak and lame. He was lame… Miyano was always so cool… Sasaki never understood why the younger boy felt the need to hide himself because to him, there was no one more cool than Miyano. Nothing the younger ever did, or could ever do, would embarrass Sasaki.

Sasaki is not subtle.

Sasaki liked sweet things, and Miyano was by far the sweetest. His favorite.

Sasaki was panting. The breath forced past dry lips and rough mouth as he tried licking his lips, but no moisture …

Miyano was talking but Sasaki didn’t think it was to him. The conversation, well the bits he could grasp, seemed one-sided at best.

Bed

Puking

nightmare

Shower

Fight scene?

Waking up next to Miya…

Sasaki sees bruise on Miyano, and it triggers him because he thinks he hurt him- he didn’t- crying…

Talks with Hirano because he’s dealt with Kagiura being ill a lot, and he knew he’s been to the A&E several times…

Miyano had called Hirano in a panic.

“Look, here’s what you’re going to do. You’re going to get him up. I don’t care if he doesn’t want to. Get him up, throw him in the shower or the bath- it doesn’t matter. You need to try and cool him off. He might struggle- Kagiura always does with high fevers, but you need to keep him in the water- he’ll stop fighting you after a few minutes. Check his temperature in 10 minutes- if it hasn’t started to drop, even a little bit- take him to A&E or call for an ambulance. You got that, Miyano? 10 minutes.”

“If it looks like his fever’s starting to drop, keep checking every fifteen minutes or so until you feel comfortable with the change. Keep pushing fluids but try to do it slow enough that he doesn’t puke it back up… if he does, it’s not the end of the world. But if his fever starts dropping, and he still can’t keep anything down or his mood hasn’t changed like he’s still lethargic and stuff, call me back or take him to A&E. Clear?”

Water washed over him and for a ---- leaning his head against Miyano’s chest in the shower, his shirt gone, Miya’s heartbeat strong against his spine…. Water-

Sasaki is terrified of hurting Miyano--- sisters words echoed in his head. You’re stronger than you think. You have to be mindful, otherwise if you’re not careful, you’re going to hurt someone you really care about.

“Yoshik-”

“Shh, shut up, Sasaki. Just relax…”

“We need to check your temperature,”

40.6. It was going down. Not significantly… but it was still going down, nonetheless.

“You need to drink,” Miya said softly, pressing the bottle to Sasaki’s lips again, tipping it slightly, hoping the older boy would accept it this time. The older boy groaned, his head lolling against Miyano’s shoulder weakly before the 20-year-old tried again….

“Shuumei, please, drink,”

“I’m sorry, Miya. I’m really sorry.”

“Let me help you- I want to help you.” You don’t feel well. And I want to take care of you. To make you feel better.

Miya dominating was always surprising… but then again, Sasaki wasn’t exactly dominant.

Although Miyano never reached Sasaki’s height, he still rested at a comfortable 5’8…

Sasaki wouldn’t let him help him…

Please, let me help you. I want to help you!

Don’t w-worry, Mya-chan; I got it.

“Hey, you’re shivering. Are you cold?”

Sasaki flinches when Miyano goes to touch him, and M pulls back. Instead he goes over the other side of the bed, sitting next to him…

“Can I touch you, Sasaki?”

“Is this okay?”

“Isn’t it obvious…”

Sasaki wasn’t as cautious or self-conscious as Miyano was. He was braver… cooler… Sasaki was protective over Miyano, so it was nice that Miyano could return the favor despite their current situation. Truth was, Miyano was better at caretaking than Sasaki was; the older boy tried, sure- and for the most part, Sasaki always went out of his way to make the younger feel better, but with Miyano- it just came naturally. He didn’t overthink it. But his mother was more nurturing than Sasaki’s was… his parents were more involved than Sasaki’s…

Shuumei ()

Sasaki stumbles, basically falling on top of Miyano

“Miyano!” Sasaki thrws himself against the wall, the pics against his weight, “Did I hurt you?”

“No! Sasaki! It’s okay, it just surprised me- It’s okay!”

“I might be smaller than you and a little shorter than you, but I’m not fragile. I’m not made of glass… and I’m not going to break –

I love you, Shuumei.

Again. Please…

It caught me off guard.

Man, I wish I were cooler….

His last month in high school, Sasaki had gotten into some trouble. Some serious trouble that almost cost him his graduation. Some trouble that made others in class, especially the younger classmen, afraid to approach the 18-year-old… because of Miyano. Because Miyano had done something stupid. Because he had acted stupidly.

Miyano had gotten into a fight; or at least, tried to break one up between four younger classmen. He hadn’t meant to get involved, honestly; but he’d been waiting for his boyfriend when he saw the fight break out. Three pitted against one. Against someone smaller than them, someone Miyano knew from one of his classes; quiet, reserved, kind. Someone that reminded him of himself… it wasn’t a fair fight. And the 17-year-old had tried to stop it. Had tried to help.

Maybe he thought that if he showed his face as their superior, their upperclassman, the bullies would fear disciplinary action and take off running. Or maybe he thought that because he was bigger than he’d been the previous year, taller, broader, he could help; step in line, shove the other kid away and tell him to run… something. But that’d been stupid. Idiotic.

He didn’t remember getting punched. Nor did he remember blacking out. But he remembered waking up on the ground, ringing in his ears as he fought to turn his head against the black dots eating away at his vision. Everything blurry, slow, out of focus; hard to piece together in one confusing fashion. His head hurt, the sharp ache lining his jaw, crawling up his cheekbone and landing, harshly, against his eye.

He had tried sitting up, only to be pushed back down gently, someone telling him to stay down; the sharp ringing echoed through his head as he slumped against the wall, bringing a slow hand to his face. The movement was numb. Alien. Disorienting. He felt disconnected from himself, like his brain was lagging, taking longer to process what his body wanted.

Red coated his fingers as he pulled his hand away, and he remembered throwing up. The harsh sound piercing through any blackness trying to pull him under, and Miyano winced as he dragged a dazed hand across his chin, smearing blood across his fingers and wrist. He felt strong hands pressed against his shoulders, yelling around him, screaming; slow movements of people crowding before him... and then…

His mind had caught up.

Everything hitting him with an overpowering realization as Ogasawara’s yelling reached his ears; Hirano’s panicked voice as he urged Miyano to stay down, saying something to Kagiura a few feet away. A blurry mass of upperclassmen; Ogasawara running behind Hirano, pulling someone up, shoving them away harshly; shouting something that Miyano couldn’t grasp yet.

It took him a few seconds to register that Ogasawara was yelling Sasaki’s name; that he was telling him to stop…

Sasaki had the boy by the collar, pinned on the ground, his knuckles bloody and busted as the older boy continued to beat the underclassman; Ogasawara wrapping his arms around the 18-year-old trying to pry him away from the barely conscious teenager, trying to pull the red-haired off him but Sasaki shoved him off, Ogasawara stumbling back, smacking against the wall.

Sasaki wasn’t one to pick fights often; according to Ogasawara and Hirano, he wasn’t great in one. He could hold his own, sure, but he wasn’t great… and when he saw Miyano go down from across the yard, he just… lost it.

He shouted something towards Hirano who turned, flying to his feet as Kagiura put a steady hand against Miyano’s shoulder. Hirano …. Pulling Sasaki away from him.

Ogasawara

Apparently when Miyano had gotten punched, he smacked against the brick wall, hitting his head, splitting it open. 17 stitches and a mild concussion.

That’d been the only time Miyano had seen Sasaki lose control; had seen him as impulsive, selfish----

Nightmare-

I-I’m scared of you, Sasaki. You scare me…

Please, Mya-chan… don’t go…

You could never scare me, Shuumei.

#sasaki to miyano #sasaki and miyano #sick sasaki #sasaki shuumei #miyano yoshikazu #hirano and kagiura #hirano to kagiura #hirano taiga #kagiura akira

13 notes · View notes