Day 17 -- bone-deep chill
Harvest time in Stag's Run was already well into the cold season in Galeswept to the north, where nights grew long and biting.
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thank you @sarahlizziewrites for the 9 lines tag! i'll share a spooky lil snippet of our first introduction to the beast.
The sound of it is an awful, visceral thing, rising out of the dark like something has torn it from his chest, stretching the sound until it snaps and falls silent in the dark. The Gravedigger, curled tight behind the frozen tomb, tries not to look. They don’t want to know what could make a man like Deighton make that sound.
They find themselves turning all the same.
The compulsion of it is familiar to them; as a child, they had once seen a hunting dog in the deep woods worry at the broken body of a rabbit in snarling, bloodied jaws. Terrified, the Gravedigger had wanted to look away; had wanted to turn from the horror of its teeth snapping fragile bones; to close their eyes against the limp, torn mess of fur and splinters. They had not been able to.
i'm tagging @dyrewrites, @starbuds-and-rosedust, @autumnalwalker, @deanwax, @sparrow-orion-writes, @scribbling-stardust, @ryns-ramblings, @isabellebissonrouthier, and @pb-dot with absolutely no pressure at all <3
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Hey boss, being online too much isn’t good. Incest is bad particularly because of the power imbalance. Now let’s say it’s two people of the same age. Consang in of itself is a bond that requires prior trauma to even achieve.
Traumatizing people isn’t good. And even if that’s still not a good enough reason for you personally, giving birth to a child who will most likely have a hard time growing and learning due to a disability that you could have personally prevented them from giving should be reason enough.
Imagine going to a newborn nursery at some random hospital and just disabling more than half the children in there because it won’t kill them but hey, at least you get to fuck your brother now. Why on earth would you willingly be so selfish and argue this point for some weird narrative?
You wouldn’t say “it’s my body, I do what I want” and drink/smoke while pregnant, would you?
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Sukuna Dyes His Hair
You were just teasing him.
"Pink like a petite little rose."
"Shut it."
They were just play-fighting words. Part of an attempt to poke the bear that never seemed to bite at you.
"Pink like a sweet strawberry."
"Strawberries are red."
Sukuna had had you in his lap, lazy with a long day of work weighing on his bones. He watched you dote on him with a tired smile, too exhausted to mind your fingers lovingly brushing at tufts of his hair. Usually he'd swat at a touch as careful as the one you were giving him, but there were moments, like this one, where he seemed to soak up your tenderness.
"Pink like a baby kitten's nose." You cooed.
"Jesus." He groaned, rolling his eyes.
Maybe it was the ending boop to his own nose that made him finally snatch you up and tackle you to the mattress.
Maybe that's why one day later, you're staring at him standing outside of a restaurant, leaning against his motorcycle with stark black hair.
He's grinning at you, knowing that he's won the little game as he always does, with overkill.
It was a promised date night, one you had been planning for a few weeks now. Sukuna never had the same days off that you did, but the stars happened to align for you to go out to dinner together and you leapt at his invitation.
After he spots you from across the parking lot, Sukuna stubs his cigarette beneath his boot and starts over to you. You can tell in the way his eyes devilishly glimmer that he's excited to see your expression.
You're in too much shock not to give him exactly what he wants.
"Hi~" He purrs when he nears you, reaching a hand out for one of your own. You offer it subconsciously, moving automatically since your brain seemed to be sputtering. His rings are cold against your fingers, but even their icy bite is not enough to stir you back to the present. He tugs you into his embrace, looping an arm around your lower waist and pressing you into him. He’s warm despite the chill on his fingertips. When he's got you secured to him, he tilts his head at you, waiting for your response.
"Hi." You whisper, blinking up at him.
You know he thinks you're going to hate it. You know he thinks you're going to give him a pout- tell him how heartbroken you are to see his natural hair go. That was undoubtedly the punchline of his stupid joke. You've told him numerous times how much you loved his hair and every part of him that made him Sukuna... So why is your mouth suddenly watering?
“What d'ya think?” He runs his fingers through it, showing it off to you as if your eyes aren’t already glued to the newly darkened locks.
It suits him just as well as his natural hair color does, but the black brings out the deep, rich color of his eyes and makes prominent the tattoos framing his face. People always tell you that Sukuna’s stare intimidated them, and you never felt it yourself until then.
You swallow past your heartbeat, which you can suddenly feel in your throat. Sukuna notices, and his mischievous grin turns wolfish.
"Oh, you like it. Don't you?" He murmurs. Reaching up, he presses your slightly agape mouth closed so that he can place a chaste kiss to your shell-shocked lips. The smell of tobacco and expensive cologne has you in an even more intoxicated daze, rendering you boneless in his hold. His next words are a heated whisper, for your ears only.
"I usually only manage to take the words out of your mouth when you're strapped to my bed. This gotcha that good, little doe?"
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