#(definitely not because I miss read the ask hahaha)

[erroryeswifi]

I LOVE UR ART SMSMSMSMS IF I ATE IT IT'LL TATES LIKE GUMMY BEARSS ALSOSOSOSOSSO

can u draw mowdown from tawog in human in your style please

KEEP THE WORK UP <3333

[rosicheeks]

hey, i know covid sucks right now, but it’ll get better ok? maybe read a book you’ve been meaning to read, get plenty to eat and drink, and take care of yourself above all. i wish i could be there to hold you and take care of you while you’re sick, but you’re always in my thoughts. and i wish it was under better circumstances, but i hope you know: i’m happy to see you on my dash again. i missed you a lot.

-🌸

[he-calls-me-kitten]

Dirty Dozen (ft. +2)

GN! MC x Pervert! OM Characters

(Cause y'all seemed to love the first one omg. Also TW: I made everyone wayy more sleazy and nasty than before so read at your own risk. MInors DNI)

Pervert! Mammon who likes to ask you for something specifically when your hands are full. "MC, lend me a few Grimm could ya?" He asks when you're in the middle of cooking.

"My hands are covered in cake batter, just take some from my back pocket."

"Are you sure it's there? Let me check both pockets." He isn't so much searching for coins as much as he's feeling and practically groping your ass. Seriously you start to wonder how it's taking him 20 minutes to find something that's right there.

Pervert! Solomon who keeps his room colder than usual when you come over for magic lessons.

"Is it too cold for you MC? I apologise, I kept it this way because some of the potions have bad reactions to heat but if you'd like-"

"I'm absolutely fine, Solomon. You worry about me too much." You smile at him reassuringly, not noticing how his eyes are so eagerly trained at your nipples perking up through your thin t-shirt.

Boner Bonus points if you allow him to hug you for some warmth. His fingers will definitely brush against your chest more than once.

Pervert! Beel who seems to make a mess whenever he's trying to help you in the kitchen. "I'm so sorry, MC. I didn't mean to spill it on your hands!"

"It's okay Beel, it's just some cream and syrup. I can just wash it off right away."

"But it's such a waste. Please allow me." He starts to thoroughly lick your fingers and you shake your head and let him knowing his fixations on food.

But he can't help it - you taste so good. He secretly wonders what you might taste like down there, drooling at the thought.

Pervert! Levi who has taken to sitting on pillows Japanese style while gaming and offers you the same. Sure enough you don't even suspect an ulterior motive.

"Did you get inspired by some human world anime again? Careful though - your legs and butt will start to cramp after a while."

"MC you're too gracious! Caring so much for an otaku like me!"

After you leave, he promptly takes the pillow you were sitting on and puts it in his bathtub. He's going to sleep on it ofc. Your scent on it helps him jerk off better.

Pervert! Belphie who now asks you to rub his belly till he falls asleep. "What's so funny?" He asks as you giggle at his request.

"Since when do you need help falling asleep?"

"I care about the quality of my sleep. And I sleep better this way."

Fortunately you believe him and don't suspect that it's because it's the closest he can get you to fondling his dick. He has such a difficult time holding in his moans and hard ons, every time your hands go even a bit lower than usual.

Pervert! Barbatos who got into sewing clothes as a hobby and specifically likes making them for you now. But you never understand why he needs to take same measurements over and over again.

"Oh? This is a different kind of design, MC. So the measurements will vary from before."

"Always making new things aren't you? You never fail to suprise Barbatos." You smile at him admiring.

The tightening of the tape around your chest and crotch are subtle. He can hardly keep it together when you praise him after all. But he has to if he wants to skim his hands over your body like this again.

Pervert! Diavolo who takes you on such long drives that you always doze off in the front seat, waking up apologetic for missing so much of the journey.

"Hahaha, it's okay, MC. We've been on this same road lots of times. I assure you, you didn't miss anything. And I like that you feel safe to sleep in my presence."

"But still, I'm so sorry, it feels disrespectful..." You apologize, not even knowing how hard he is in his pants right now.

Afterall, he can keep squeezing your beautiful thighs, maybe let his hands wander between them and imagine himself fucking you in the back seat as much as he wants, when you're asleep.

Pervert! Simeon who will have noone except you as his muse for art classes. And the themes just keep getting more erotic each time.

"Are you sure you're okay with this, MC? You don't have to do it if you're not comfortable-"

"Nonsense, Simeon. I feel super comfortable if it's you. You're a true artist after all." You say as you lay on his bed wrapped up only in bedsheets, exposing your entire back and legs.

If only you knew, this angel has thoughts dirtier than most demons. How he's practically fucking you with his eyes. How he's definitely going to jerk off into those bedsheets, moaning your name.

Pervert! Satan who loves teaching you things - standing right behind you, guiding your hands to make latte-art, or trying a new style of painting.

"That's it, nice and slow. Look how much you've improved, MC." He beams at the cute kitty in the coffee cup.

"All thanks to you, Satan. I can't wait to learn more from you." You smile at him earnestly.

He almost feels guilty for tricking you this way, but the way your hands feel in his, and your ass feels against his groin is so addicting. One of these days, he wishes could teach you to be on all fours and take his length in your pretty little mouth.

Pervert! Asmo who loves keeping your eyes on him and noone else. From elaborate performances to petty staring contests, he cannot have enough of your gaze.

"Oh you're turning red in the face, Asmo. Did I manage to flutter the heart of the Avatar of Lust?" You lean forward smiling.

"You're my only weakness after all, MC. It's your fault for making me this way." He almost moans.

You laugh and mock apologize at his antics but you don't know he's been grinding like an animal on his seat, and creamed his pants under your innocent gaze. Your undivided attention just turns him on so much.

Pervert! Lucifer who makes his desires too obvious sometimes. He'll regret it in the morning and take you to dinner to apologize but not until he's already done something dirty.

"Lucifer, it's 2 am. You need to throw away that coffee and sleep." You're practically dragging him to bed.

"Fine. I'll go sleep if you'll stay in my room tonight." He says knowing you'll comply. You care too much for your own good. He's not even going to let you sleep on the couch, no you have to stay wrapped up in his arms.

You might wake upto him groaning your name in his sleep and you might mistake it for a nightmare - not knowing how he's balls deep inside you in his dreams.

Pervert! Thirteen who likes how excited you get over her newest inventions and keeps making more things to call you over.

"And this little baby and can throw pie at people's faces without ever missing. Guaranteed headshot." She smiles proud.

"This would be so useful in a cafeteria food fight and then get banned right after its glory. But I so wanna use it!" You whine.

She loves how much you appreciate her inventions. She is secretly working on a 'pleasure' device scented like her to give you - she hopes you'll like it just as much.

Pervert! Mephisto who is actually taken aback by your duality. You're such a mischievous little imp usually but turn so well-mannered in front of Diavolo's esteemed guests.

"So even you can be prim and proper sometimes? If only you could maintain this on the daily." He huffs.

You laugh and mock-bow in front of him. "Of course, anything for you my dearest lord. Would you like to dance with this proper human while you can?"

He blushes at the sudden offer. Why you little- how dare you tempt him like this. You can't complain about him gripping you somewhere improper or too tight. You deserve this for your attitude.

Pervert! Raphael who is still navigating new feelings of lust he's never felt before he met you. Why his heart skips every time you fall asleep on his shoulder or why he felt a sudden warmth at the pit of his stomach feeling you breath so softly into his neck.

"Thank you for helping me tidy the classroom, MC. I didn't even know where the cleaning supplies were."

"That's alright. It's more fun with two people anyway and wait Raphael there's a bucket over the-" The fresh bucket of water already spilled splashing all over both of you.

You immediately fetched a towel to help him dry up but he couldn't stop staring at you instead. With the uniform sticking to your body like and the water glistening on your exposed skin - why was he so enthralled? Why does he feel a strange pulsing between his legs as you hover over him?

[joelscoffeemachine]

Echoes Of Him

Joel Miller x f!reader

word count: around 6.6k

Summary: After weeks of avoiding Joel, Joel finds you drunk at the tipsy bison, finally able to get some explaining from you only to end up in your bed later that night.

Warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, slightly non-con, soft!Joel (in the end), grinding, language, unprotected piv, slight fingering, pet names, no use of y/n, reader uses feminine pronouns, jackson era!Joel, drinking, reader wears a dress and heels, possessiveness (if you squint), slight praise kink, fluff, kinda dom!Joel, aftercare, sorry if i missed anything.

A/N: so sorry this took so long, lately i’ve been going through a hard time, but i didn’t want to leave whoever is actually reading these, hanging. you should definitely read part one before this, but if you don’t want to, i won’t force you to. hahaha. not too much on the pictures, i was struggling. i hope this doesn’t make me hate my life any more than i already do, and i hope you enjoy this as much as i enjoyed writing it.

part one part three

It had been weeks since that awkward moment with Joel.

You tried your hardest to avoid him. He had to notice, because every time he’d walk into a room, and you’d walk out, you could feel his eyes boring into your skin.

You used every technique in the book to avoid him, but when you felt someone tap your shoulder as you sat at the bar at the Tipsy Bison, you knew you fucked up.

You slowly turned your head, eyes catching the man with the patchy beard, and flannel with the sleeves rolled up just above his elbow. The detail of his beard added an unexpected depth to his appearance, making the moment feel even more intense.

He let out a soft “hey,” sitting on the stool beside you.

You clutched your glass of neat whiskey, teeth biting away at your cheek as you glanced at him.

Joel’s gaze wandered over you, his eyebrows pressed together as that look of confusion took over his features. It’s been weeks and he hadn’t been able to get a word, hell, even a passing glance from you.

Now he was face to face with you, finally after trying to get you alone for so long and you wanted to ignore his presence.

The stool creaked as he sat down, adjusting how he sat. He cleared his throat, leaning forward in his seat.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Heat rose to your cheeks. You weren’t sure if it was because the man you were avoiding for what seemed like months was sitting next to you, or if it was because you were extremely drunk, swallowing multiple full glasses of whiskey like there’s no tomorrow. The scent of his cologne mixed with the sharp tang of whiskey created a heady cocktail that made your head spin even more.

It was an awkward pause, you looked away, his eyes stayed on you. You weren’t planning on saying anything, but the words just blurted out.

“How’d you know I was here? Or did you come for the same reason?” Your voice wavered slightly, betraying the circle of emotions churning inside you.

His eyes, intense and unwavering, made it hard to breathe, let alone think straight.

He could only give a shrug of his shoulders, tilting his head to the side.

“Tommy told me you’d be here,” he answers, his tone low.

The deep buzz of his voice reverberated through the silence, adding a layer of tension to the already charged atmosphere.

You quickly hum in response, furrowing your eyebrows in realization.

How the hell would Tommy know you’re here — Fucking Maria. You sighed sharply as the thought ran through your mind, taking a deep sip from your glass, the bartender coming from nowhere to fill it back up.

The whiskey burned less now, but the alcohol didn't seem to dull the sharp edge of your thoughts.

You figured that if you drank until your tongue fell out, you’d forget. You’d forget that you even went to the stables, you’d forget what your goddamn name was. The burn of the whiskey was a welcome distraction, a temporary escape from the disorder inside your mind.

But you still fucking remember.

The memories clung to you like the scent of his cologne, impossible to shake off no matter how hard you tried.

Joel could clearly see the redness of your cheeks, taking in the way you avoided looking at him, but he could assume that the alcohol played a major role in how you were acting right now. The flicker of confusion in his eyes softened into something almost tender, as if he understood the disarray, you were going through.

He watched as your gaze fell, hearing the way you let words fall from your lips, a little surprised by your question. The slight tremor in your voice didn't escape him, and he found himself leaning in slightly, almost involuntarily, drawn by the vulnerability in your tone.

You didn’t know what to say. Usually, if that night didn’t happen, you’d be yapping about Tommy and Maria’s wedding, and the way her bump was the most perfect shape or making inside jokes. But you couldn’t think of any at the moment. The words that used to flow so easily between you two now seemed stuck, lodged in your throat.

“So, what is it?” you murmur, gazing back at him.

His eyes only showed confusion, slight furrowed brows. The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes mirrored your own feelings, making the silence between you feel even heavier.

“What is it that you want?”

It irked him how you were acting, how you tried to ignore him, but he decided to brush it off, for now. He had more important things on his mind. The frustration simmered beneath the surface, but he kept it in check, focusing instead on the reason he was here.

He didn’t expect you to actually look at him, being given the chance to admire how your eyes seemed to shine in the low light, how your cheeks were tinged a light shade of pink. The sight made him pause, a moment of softness breaking through his resolve.

He leaned in closer, his voice just loud enough so only you could hear. “You’ve been avoiding me for weeks, darlin’.” His breath brushed against your ear, the intimacy of the moment heightening the tension between you two.

“Don’t—“ You flinched your body away, almost falling out of your chair as he moved closer.

“Don’t call me darling.” You demand, shaking your head.

You could see the look in his eyes change, he moved away, breathing the embarrassment away. The shift in his demeanor was palpable, the confidence faltering for just a moment.

Joel’s facial features hardened at your sudden outburst, his shoulders tensing at the way you recoiled back from him, his eyes widening just a bit. The shock was evident, but it quickly morphed into something more resolute.

“We need to talk about what the hell that—“

You cut him off, your neck breaking as you turned to look at him.

“There’s nothing to talk about.” You lift the glass up to your lips, tilting your head slightly as you continued your slurred speech.

“It was a mistake.” The words came out harsher than you intended, the alcohol loosening your tongue and sharpening your tone.

His lips pressed into a tight frown, watching as you turned and looked at him, the words leaving you. The intensity of his gaze bore into you, searching for any hint of truth in your denial.

“Bullshit.” He mutters, leaning against the counter, his arms crossing over his chest. “If that was a mistake, you wouldn’t be avoiding me like the damn plague.” His voice was low, but the frustration was clear, each word laced with the weight of unspoken emotions.

You smacked your lips as you tasted the strong whiskey, placing your cup down with a slight cough from your mouth. The burn of the alcohol was a stark contrast to the coldness in your voice. “Yeah, well, I don’t talk to taken men, especially if something happened between us before.” You share, shrugging your shoulders, trying to mask the hurt.

“What are you talkin’ about?” Joel's confusion was evident, his brows furrowing as he tried to piece together your words.

“I’m not fucking stupid, Miller. I heard you and Tommy. A nice girl who’s been ‘dropping her panties for you.’ You didn’t turn down the offer, so, therefore, it was a mistake, because the same night, you went off, and fucked some desperate whore.” The bitterness in your voice was unmistakable, each word dripping with the betrayal you felt.

Joel’s heart sank in his chest, a frown appearing on his face. He hadn’t realized how loud he and his brother had been talking, but he also didn’t think that you’d overhear the conversation. The guilt gnawed at him, knowing the misunderstanding had caused you pain.

The sound of his last name coming from you took the edge off, but the words you spoke set him off even more. His jaw tightened, and he took a step closer.

“I didn’t even touch her, I left before I even got the chance to buy her a drink.” He states, his voice now gruff, deep, his eyes narrowing at your form. The sincerity in his tone was unmistakable, each word a desperate attempt to bridge the chasm that had formed between you.

“Oh, yeah? Well, either way, I don’t give a shit.” You say, looking straight ahead at all the bottles on the shelves behind the counter, focusing on the bartender who was darting back and forth between customers. You could feel it. You were two fucking sips away from being able to ‘forget.’

Hell, it’s probably already working with the way you went off on Joel. You wanted to glance back at him, but the feeling of having his sad, puppy dog eyes on you just made something in your chest ache.

You were drunk, but that person who cared so deeply for Joel ever since that night, was still deep down in there. Somewhere. The alcohol might have been numbing the pain, but it couldn’t erase the memories or the emotions tied to them.

The way you were behaving pissed Joel off; he hated the way you spoke to him, how you acted, how you looked everywhere but at him.

It pissed him off, but at the same time, he knew the alcohol was taking control of you. The frustration boiled within him, mixing with a sense of helplessness.

He sat and watched you, his features hardening at the way you sat, your body leaning forward as the glass was in your hand, almost empty. Each sip you took felt like a blow to his patience, his concern for you battling with his anger.

He wanted to say something, anything, just to get you to look at him, but he let out a sigh instead, his voice low and strained. “You’ve had enough.”

You ignored him, taking more sips of your drink, but slowly, swishing it around in your warm mouth just to tease. He hated every damn second of it, snatching the glass from your hands, throwing it on the ground with the pieces shattering everywhere, repeating his words, “You’ve had enough,” with more aggression.

Everyone who stood in the bar snapped their heads at you two, eyebrows knitted, some had smiles, some had no care at all. You glared at Joel, jaw slightly open, the shock mingling with your defiance.

He turned his head at all the men and women staring so deeply into his soul, scooting off his chair, hand gripping onto your arm. “We’re leaving,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Joel grabbed onto your arm, wrapping his fingers around your skin with a firm grip, ignoring the way you attempted to pull away, dragging you out of the tavern.

Everyone in the crowd around them continued to stare as Joel stormed through, pushing past random people until the both of you were outside. The tension was palpable, the air thick with the weight of unspoken words and simmering anger.

He continued walking, still dragging you along, tossing you around like a rag doll, his hand gripping onto your arm even tighter, causing bruises. The pain shot through your skin, but the alcohol dulled it just enough for you to keep up with his relentless pace.

You finally manage to get yourself free from his grip, shoving him away with all the strength inside you. “Joel, what the hell is wrong with you?!” you shouted, your hand massaging the bruised area. He glared at you, no remorse shining through his eyes.

No response from him, just very quick breaths, the same grumpy face. You blinked, swallowed, then turned back around. Joel’s hand caught your wrist, forcing you to turn around.

You wanted to hit him, to call him filthy names, but you held back for some reason, because you did try, so why was your body rejecting you? Why were you giving in when you’re supposed to hate him? The conflicting emotions tangled inside you, leaving you feeling more confused and vulnerable than ever.

The sound of your voice echoed in his head as the words you spoke settled in. He looked at you with a hardened glare, panting softly from the adrenaline.

He ignored the way you attempted to turn, his hand gripping onto your shoulder to keep you in place, seeing the way you tried to shake him off or back away.

He took a step closer towards you, closing the space that separated you, the heat from both your bodies radiating off of you and onto him, your faces almost touching. You could feel his breath mingling with yours, the tension between you almost tangible.

“Honey, please. Let me take you home,”

Your face softened, lips pursing as you nodded. You were too worn out, the drinks finally kicking in and making your head swim. The lights from the streetlamps blurred into a hazy glow, and the sounds of the night seemed distant and muffled. But at the same time, you felt like the drinks kicked in at the wrong moment. You felt like you should be kicking and screaming, your emotions a chaotic storm inside you. But there he was, standing so close to you like that warm night, his presence both a comfort and a torment.

He practically begged you to let him take you home. His voice was low and urgent, filled with a mix of concern and something deeper, almost primal. He begged like he wanted to know you were safe. Safe under him. You stumbled beside him, your steps unsteady, walking up the hills that seemed steeper than ever, and falling up your porch stairs, your legs barely holding you up.

The sight of you stumbling was a sight to be seen. He had never seen you in this state, so drunk that you could barely walk straight, your normally graceful movements reduced to a clumsy shuffle. Your hair was disheveled, and your clothes were slightly askew, adding to the disarray of the moment.

You leaned on the wall near the door, the cool surface a stark contrast to the heat of your flushed skin. Joel was searching for the key in the small purse you brought, his fingers moving frantically, too drunk to bring up the fact that you didn’t take the key with you. The realization hit you like a wave, but you were too exhausted to care, your body heavy and your mind clouded.

He silently shook his head as he searched through your purse, his brow furrowing in concentration. The realization that you hadn’t brought your key with you hit Joel the moment his fingers grazed against the bottom of the bag, finding nothing but the smooth lining.

With a low sigh, he closed the bag, looking up at you, noticing the way you leaned on the wall, your eyes fluttering as you tried to stay awake. The streetlight casting a soft glow on your face, highlighting the exhaustion etched into your features.

“Where’s the key?” he asked, his voice gentle but strained, the weight of the night pressing heavily on both of you.

You couldn’t make out what he was saying, trying to make sense of it all when you watched him bend over to look underneath the mat in front of the door. His movements were deliberate, almost mechanical, as if he knew exactly what he was looking for.

He leaned up, sticking the gold key into the small hole, softly opening the door with a creak that echoed in the quiet night.

You stepped in first, the smell of home sweet home hitting you in the face. It was a blend of familiar scents—lavender, old wood, and a hint of something sweet, like vanilla. You inhaled deeply, closing your eyes as you staggered to the stairs, catching yourself on the railing, the cool wood grounding you for a moment.

Joel helped you, his arm wrapped securely across your back as he held you up, his touch firm yet gentle. You could feel his warmth seeping into you, a difference to the chill of the night air.

The soft glow of the hallway light put shadows that danced around you, making your journey seem even more precarious.

You sat on the bed, back slightly slouched, mellowing out as the room swayed around you. The soft sheets beneath you felt like a cloud, and you let out a sigh of relief, the tension of the night slowly melting away.

The room was dimly lit, the soft hum of the night settling in around you.

He kneeled in front of you, trying to look at your face as you were practically leaning forwards, eyes slightly closed, your breath coming in slow, heavy sighs.

“C’mon, pretty lady,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to your muddled senses.

He slid your black heels off with care, his fingers brushing against your ankles, sending a shiver up your spine. The relief was immediate, and you could feel the tension in your feet dissipate as he set the shoes aside.

After every foot he’d take out, it’d be followed with a small foot rub, his thumbs pressing into the tender arches of your feet, coaxing the tension away.

He stood with a grunt, his knees popping slightly, heading over to your worn-out dresser. He opened the drawers one by one, the old wood creaking as he rifled through the contents, searching for some comfortable clothes for you to shimmy into.

“Bottom drawer.” You yawn, eyes focused on your fidgeting hands in your lap, the weight of exhaustion pulling at your eyelids.

He made his way back over to you, pulling you off the bed to a stand as he lifted the dress off of you, the fabric slipping over your skin with a whisper.

His eyes explored your soft body, the scars from knives, or even bullets, each one a testament to the battles you’ve faced. He admired every part of you, his gaze lingering on the intricate tapestry of your skin, the stories carved into your flesh.

He just wished this didn’t happen. He wished he would’ve seen your perfect body another day. A day when you didn’t hate him, and when you weren’t drunk. This feels wrong. The regret gnawed at him, a bitter taste in his mouth as he helped you into the clothes, his hands trembling slightly with the weight of his own guilt.

Joel ran his thumb over the little nicks and scars that scattered over your body, the urge to kiss each one of them taking over, but he held himself back, instead, his eyes slowly exploring the rest of you. The way your skin was so soft, like silk under his touch, your curves in all the right places, how you looked so damn perfect, even in this vulnerable state.

He continued to slide the tank-top and small shorts over your body until it fit perfectly against your skin, his hands grabbing your hips, feeling the warmth radiate from you. His fingers traced the line of your waist, lingering for a moment as if trying to memorize the feel of you.

He didn’t want you to hate him, even if you were drunk. The thought of your anger cut deeper than any blade, and he wished he could turn back time, to a moment when things were simpler, when the world hadn’t yet driven a wedge between you.

You crawled under the sheets, his fingers gently pushing some hair behind your ears. He kissed your forehead, turning around to leave out the door, but your tired voice called out for him. He stopped in his tracks, his head looking over his shoulder.

“Stay.” You mumbled, slightly sitting up.

He nodded, just giving in even though he knew he shouldn’t, knowing that he should be at home, looking out the window as he sat at his single set table, waiting to see if Ellie got home safely. But he chose you.

He laid on top of the blankets, his hands resting on his stomach as his head turned to watch you. Your eyes stayed open, a small smile on your face as you two looked into each other’s eyes, the unspoken words hanging in the air, a silent understanding passing between you.

The room was filled with a tender stillness, the kind that only comes from shared moments and deep connections.

He hated the way you made him so damn soft, the way he melted whenever you asked him to stay, hell, even just the sound of your voice saying his name made his heartbeat quicken.

He watched as the smile stayed on your tired lips, his own lips curving a bit as he took in the sight of you. A warm halo around you from the bedside lamp, making the moment feel almost dreamlike.

He didn’t get this, but in this moment, he didn’t care to question it. He was just grateful that he was here, with you. The world outside seemed to fade away, leaving just the two of you in this intimate bubble where nothing else mattered.

“Kiss me.” You finally say, his eyes squinting slightly.

You moved closer, sitting up, him echoing your moves. You placed both clammy hands on his cheeks, eyes going doe.

“Kiss me.” You repeat, he obliged.

He kissed you gently, and then passionately, then aggressive. Like he’d missed this.

It was like that night, quick, rough, messy. His tongue found yours, roaming around in your mouth with free will. You moaned into the kiss, almost overwhelmed with the pace. The air around you seemed to thicken, charged with the electricity of your connection.

His hand went to your neck, pulling you closer, feeling as if he’d let go, you’d get mad again, pushing him away, telling him to leave. His other hand gripped your waist, anchoring you to him, as if grounding himself in the reality of your presence.

The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing and the soft rustle of the sheets, creating a symphony of intimacy.

A low groan rumbled within his chest, the ache within him taking over. He missed this, he missed the feeling of your lips on his, the way you tasted, how your moans filled the empty air around him, the way you grabbed him and held onto him. Every touch and sound from you seemed to ignite a fire within him that he could no longer contain.

He couldn’t deny you, he didn’t want to anymore. The walls he had built around his heart crumbled as he surrendered to the moment, letting his desires take control.

He pushed you back, roughly laying you down on the pillows, his body pressed against yours as his tongue tangled and explored your mouth. His hands roamed your body, memorizing every curve and contour, while his lips moved with a fervor that spoke of months of longing and pent-up desire. The intensity of his actions mirrored the desperation he felt, the need to be close to you, to be one with you.

You couldn’t help but fumble the button of his shirt, groaning out of frustration as each button slipped from your fingers. Finally getting them, you rip his shirt open, tossing it across the room. You run your fingers down his chest, down his chest hairs, and then the hair disappearing down into his jeans. The warmth of his skin under your fingertips sent shivers through your body, heightening the intensity of the moment.

His hands groping your tits, you pulling away from the kiss to let out little noises of appreciation. Your hands stretched out on his back, holding onto him like you did that night. The way his muscles flexed beneath your touch brought back memories of past passion, making the moment even more electric.

"Jesus, Joel..."

You prayed that Tommy wouldn’t randomly bust through the door, and interrupt this moment, but you start to think your intoxication is messing with your imagination. How would he even be able to get into the house - God, get it together.

The room seemed to spin slightly, but the only thing that felt real was his touch, his presence, grounding you in this whirlwind of emotions and sensations.

His eyes meeting yours, and the way you looked at him, like you were appreciating his body. The intensity in your gaze made his heart race, a mixture of desire and admiration that he hadn't felt in a long time.

A low gasp slipped past his parted lips when your hands wandered over his chest again, his muscles tensing slightly under your touch as he pressed his hips against yours. The heat between you two was noticeable, every movement and touch amplifying the connection you shared.

He pressed kisses down your jaw and down your neck. He wanted to mark you, make sure anyone who looked at your body knew what a fucking whore you were. His lips left a trail of possessive kisses, each one a silent claim, as his hands roamed your body, pulling you closer, deepening the bond of this passionate moment.

Your hands aggressively moved on Joel’s jeans, pulling on them, trying to even rip them, too dumb to even realize he had a belt on. And that you had to unzip the fly.

“T-Take these off,” you beg, squeezing your eyes shut at the pleasure from his hips pressing into yours, the friction driving you wild.

He slides his jeans off with ease, pushing them off to the side. You didn’t hesitate to yank your tank top off, tits bouncing as they were released. Joel groaned at the sight, placing a kiss to each one, his lips warm and soft against your skin, sending shivers down your spine.

You hummed, back arching off the squeaky bed. The sensation of his mouth on your breasts, combined with the pressure of his body against yours, made your mind spin. Every touch, every kiss, heightened the craziness of the moment, making you lose yourself in the passion that enveloped you both.

Joel’s tongue ran across your skin, trailing down your chest, peppering soft kisses across your stomach. He could already feel you squirming underneath him, your fingers buried in his hair, tugging on the strands as his lips went lower. The sensation of his tongue and lips left a heated trail, making your body shiver in anticipation.

His tongue glided over your hip and to your inner thigh, pulling down your shorts while he’s at it, nipping and biting at the sensitive skin, making sure to leave a mark. Each bite sent jolts of pleasure through you, the mix of pain and pleasure heightening your senses.

“Look at you,” he whispered, his eyes looking up at you, dark with desire. “All needy and desperate for me.” His words sent a thrill through you, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race even faster.

You were already a moaning mess and he had barely even touched you. You were left in your pretty pink panties, hands gliding up and down Joel’s shoulders, feeling the muscles tense beneath your fingertips.

His touch was gentle, but so rough as he slid your panties off with ease. He took a moment to just stare at you, mouthwatering at the delicious sight, his eyes darkening with desire as he drank in every inch of your exposed skin. His fingers ran through the flaps of your pussy, collecting the juices that came with it.

You noticed his desperate eyes, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him back up into a deep kiss. The kiss was intense, filled with longing and hunger, as if you both were trying to pour all your emotions into that single moment. His hands roamed your body, making you shiver with anticipation and need.

His tongue slipped past your lips, once again exploring your mouth, as if he’d never gotten the chance to before. The taste of the strong alcohol was still prominent on your tongue, but he didn’t pull away; it was still you, and that was all he wanted.

He pulled away from the kiss, only to nip and suck at the mark he’d left on your neck, the sound of you groaning filling the air. The sensation of his mouth on your skin sent shivers down your spine, each groan vibrating through you, heightening your arousal. His hands gripped your hips firmly, holding you in place as he continued to tease and torment your sensitive skin.

His hand went down low, his fingers playing with your sensitive clit. Your jaw dropped open, squirming around as your hand gripped tightly on Joel’s arm.

For some reason, it felt weird for you to be fucking your best friend’s husband’s brother, but at the same exact time, you didn’t give a damn. You’ve been craving that longing feeling for so long now, finally finding someone to give it to you.

Joel’s touch was both gentle and demanding, his fingers expertly working you over, making you gasp and moan with every movement. The forbidden nature of your connection only seemed to heighten the intensity, making every touch, every kiss, all the more electrifying. His groans mingled with your own, creating a symphony of desire that filled the room, leaving no room for second thoughts or regrets.

You knew he was just trying to prepare you, but you needed him so bad. You smacked his hand away, and he pulled away from your neck to look at your face. His eyes were dark, filled with a mix of concern and lust.

"N-Need your cock." You whisper.

Your fingers wrapped around the band of his boxers, pulling them down, his fat erection bouncing up to his stomach. You gasped at the sight, throwing your head back as a shiver of anticipation ran down your spine.

He knew what you wanted. He kicked his boxers off fully, jerking himself with quiet whimpers that sent a thrill through you before entering your pussy slowly. His gaze stayed on you, looking for any sign it hurt, his fingers gently caressing your thigh as if to soothe any discomfort.

You breathed out a ‘god,’ eyes slamming shut at the stretching feeling going on down below. He stopped immediately, brows knitting with worry, but you shook your head before he could speak.

“D-Don’t stop, Joel,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need. "Feels s-so, so, so good, baby."

"Don't worry, sweetheart, I ain't goin' nowhere. I just want to make sure your doin' alright," he replies, soothing your whines.

Joel’s movements were careful yet filled with a desperate need, each inch pushing deeper as he watched your reactions closely. The sensation of him stretching you was overwhelming, a mix of pain and pleasure that had you gripping the sheets tightly. His quiet whimpers turned into low groans, his breath hot against your skin as he continued to move, his pace slow and deliberate, ensuring you felt every bit of him. The room was filled with the sounds of your shared desire, the vigor of the moment making you feel more connected than ever before.

As Joel pushed deeper, your body instinctively arched towards him, seeking more of the delicious friction. His hands roamed your body, one gripping your hip to steady you while the other trailed up to cup your breast, thumb flicking over your nipple. The dual sensations sent shivers down your spine, making you moan louder, your nails digging into his back, leaving red trails in their wake.

Every thrust seemed to reach new depths, his rhythm gradually increasing as he found the perfect angle that made you see stars. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mingling with your breathless gasps and his guttural groans. The intensity built with each movement, the pressure inside you coiling tighter and tighter, ready to snap. You could feel the heat pooling in your lower belly, your body trembling with anticipation.

Joel’s eyes never left yours, his gaze filled with raw desire and an unspoken promise of more. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss that stole your breath away, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same fervor as his hips. The connection between you was too good to be true, every touch, every kiss, every thrust pushing you closer to the edge. The taste of him, the feel of his body against yours, it was all too much.

"C'mon, baby. C'mon." He praised; hands glued to your body.

Finally, the pressure became too much, and with a cry of his name, you shattered around him, your body convulsing with the force of your orgasm.

Joel's hips stuttered, his thrust losing rhythm as he asked, "Where?"

"Inside, please. Fill me up, Joel." your response quick, breathy.

Joel followed soon after, his release spilling into you as he buried his face in your neck, his own groans of pleasure vibrating against your skin. The two of you stayed like that, tangled together, riding out the waves of your shared ecstasy, completely lost in each other. The aftershocks of pleasure left you both breathless, hearts pounding in unison as you held each other close.

Joel pulled out with an over-exaggerated groan, plopping next to you. His chest heaved as he tried to catch his breath, eyes fixed on the ceiling, hand resting on his chest. You lay there, half-asleep, your mind a whirlpool of conflicting emotions. Did you still hate him? Did you still want to forget everything that had happened between you two?

Joel, sensing the fragile silence, got up without a word and headed to the bathroom just outside your room. You could hear him rummaging around, and you idly thought that he must be having trouble finding a rag or towel. Not that you cared; you were too tired to move, your eyelids growing heavier by the second.

Your eyes snapped open at the sound of your name being called softly. Joel had returned, a wet rag in hand. He sat at the end of the bed, gently spreading your legs to clean between your folds and inner thighs. His touch was tender, almost reverent, as he wiped away the remnants of your shared intimacy.

He held the rag under your leaking hole, rubbing your lower stomach to coax your droopy eyes open. “I know, baby. Just wait a minute. Push f’me.” You complied, feeling the mixture of his spend and yours rush out. He caught every drop, folding the rag and tossing it into the dirty hamper.

Joel then shimmied back into his boxers and gently pulled your panties over your hips. He walked around to the other side of the bed, slipping under the sheets beside you. He kissed your shoulder once, maybe twice, as you turned onto your side, your back facing him.

His chest pressed warmly against your back, his hand finding its way to your boob, grasping it for comfort. The steady rhythm of his breathing lulled you into a deep, dreamless sleep, the complexities of your feelings momentarily forgotten.

[facewithoutheart]

Five plus One, fic recs

A post is going around about fics you consider classics in the Snowbaz fandom. I’d like to take it a step further by asking …

What are five fics you consider your inspiration/influences for writing, plus one of your fics which you think best represents what you want to bring to the fandom?

5. Hang the Moon by @captain-aralias

@captain-aralias is, to me, the snowbaz fandom fic writer of our time. Her commitment to detail, to nailing Rainbow’s voice, while infusing every fic with a heart and purpose that will leave you changed. Every fic of hers is chef’s-kiss-perfection but I’m highlighting Hang the Moon specifically as a fic I often think about (Baz, wet tennis clothes, helping Simon fight the merwolves), and a fic that was my introduction to what fanfics could be/do. I think I finished this fic and just stared at the wall for an hour because I was just like, oh. Oh.

4. The Pitch by basic-bathsheba

Local Hero is one of my favorite fanfics but I wanted to highlight this fic because it’s just such a powerful and understated story. It’s love in the details. This Simon is the model for all of my Simon’s, just a complete simp for Baz haha but also a man who is comfortable and confident being the man who loves Baz even if he doesn’t get to claim it publicly.

3. Stay Up With Me by @sharkmartini

Not sure what to say about this that hasn’t been said a million times. It’ll break your heart; it’ll put you back together. The concept is brilliant and the exploration of two Simon’s will definitely put your emotions through a wringer. Time travel/what-if fics will always grab my attention but this one in particular makes the same case Rainbow posed in Carry On: what if the villain isn’t the villain? And takes it a step further, because Simon realizes he could be the villain, too. Absolutely beautiful.

2. Can’t Find My Way Home by @carryonsimoncarryonbaz

This is one of those fics that just has so much heart and sweetness. I love a good second chance AU, and this one has such Hallmark vibes in the best way. I just love the slow burn of it, and the amazing ending. A perfect holiday fic to snuggle up with. Reading this feels like being cozy up by the fire with someone you love. Actually writing this makes me wanna reread this so much; now that I live with actual Fall I wanna feel cozy like this again.

1. Basil Pitch’s Diary by @bookish-bogwitch

I know it’s a bit weird to rec a WIP as an influence, especially one that’s being written as we speak, but working with/beta-ing Em’s works have made me a sharper, smarter writer. I know this fic is a classic in the works and it’s something I think about on a weekly basis. The Baz Em gives us, to me, feels like canon Baz taken to the next level. What if Baz was the villain … but only to himself? Em’s writing really is just economical in the best way; every line hits, every paragraph teaches me something. And then the heart. It’s genuinely so hard to do what she does and I’m so lucky to get to see her work in realtime.

+1 This Will All Go Down In Flames

I think, at the end of my fandom career, I want this to be the snowbaz fic people associate with me (Spadey being a close second hahaha). But I do feel like it’s got a lot of fandom in-jokes, humor, and sweetness, plus the fun high-stakes of them being in the spotlight. I got to celebrate the Austin I love and miss, as well as poke fun at my own hipster upbringing. I put a lot of Me™ in this fic and it always feels so lovely when people like it. Besides, I got to work with the amazing @tea-brigade and their art just takes this fic to the next level. A dream collab.

(Throwing in the caveat that I started reading long before I got an ao3 account so it’s very likely I’ve missed some amazing fics from before 2021; I’m so sorry!)

Tagging everyone listed above and six more peeps to start: @cutestkilla, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @larkral, @ileadacharmedlife, @thewholelemon & @aristocratic-otter

[suzukiblu]

Parasite WIP is so good and I desperately want more of it! I voted for it in the poll and I’m so sad it didn’t win

Friend, I appreciate you asking after it because it really is one of my fucked-up faves that I really need to work on more, so uh . . . have all 4500 words of the prose so far all together, hahaha. Yes, yes I DID reformat this whole thing into Tumblr-friendliness all for you. THAT IS HOW MUCH I APPRECIATE YOUR APPRECIATION, FRIEND. ( so definitely we are gonna need that read-more down there, lol. )

Clark wakes up. 

Clark didn't even know he wasn't awake. 

"Superman," Bruce says with absolute neutrality. He's wearing the cowl. Standing in rubble. Clark is . . . not standing in rubble. 

Laying in rubble. That's what Clark is doing. 

Bruce is looking down at him very, very carefully, and seems . . . reserved. 

Reserved for Bruce, even. 

"What happened?" Clark asks, trying not to concentrate on the little seed of dread that the sight of that reservation invokes in him. He can hear the heartbeats of other League members, here and there in the wreckage of the street around them. Hear civilians and city noise. Hear Lois and Jon, distantly, and Ma and Pa, even more distant. And . . . Kara–both of her–and . . . 

"We'll go with 'electrocution', but I think we can safely say just about anyone else would've been virtually incinerated," Bruce informs him, distracting Clark from his mental rundown of people he's currently worried about. "Or just exploded."

"Ah," Clark says with a grimace. Well, that explains why his head hurts so damn bad, he guesses.

At least it was him, then, and not any "anyone else"s. 

He pushes himself up. Looks around. He . . . isn't sure where they are, exactly, except that it's probably somewhere on Earth and within the continental United States, judging by the architecture and signs he's seeing and the accents and languages he's hearing. 

He has absolutely no idea how they got here, though. The last thing he remembers is . . . 

. . . he's not actually sure what the last thing he remembers is. 

Not a great sign, that.  

Bruce is watching him. Like he's . . . expecting something, almost. Clark would ask, but there's an odd feeling distracting him. Something's . . . off, somehow. 

Missing. 

Bruce's utility belt is a new design, he notes absently. J'onn is down the street a bit and his costume looks a little different too. And Diana . . . 

Diana is over across the way, and her hair is a couple inches longer than he remembers it being. 

Clark would assume he was mistaken, except for the eidetic memory and all. 

"Hm," Clark says. 

"Hm?" Bruce says. He still sounds faultlessly neutral. 

"Trying to figure out if I'm in the right reality. Things look a little off," Clark replies, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes in concentration. No unexpected sounds or scents. No particular feeling of disorientation that can't be accounted for by being apparently electrocuted. No additional pains past the dull pressure in his head or any immediately obvious peculiarities beyond the minor little scattered differences here and there in his teammates. 

But something is–

"I can't hear Kon," Clark realizes abruptly. He doesn't usually especially keep an ear out for the kid, at least not deliberately, but . . . 

Bruce . . . pauses. 

"You can't," he says, very carefully. It doesn't sound like a question. 

It sounds like something, though. 

"I can't," Clark confirms anyway, glancing around again. He still doesn't know where this is. "Where are we, exactly?" 

"What's the date, Kal?" Bruce asks, and Clark's heart sinks. 

He answers the question. 

Bruce's mouth thins. 

Hell, Clark thinks. 

"We're currently in Keystone City," Bruce says, very carefully expressionless. "We've been here for three days. The date you just provided me was a full fourteen months ago. And Kon-El has been MIA for roughly thirteen and a half of those months." 

Hell, Clark thinks, and doesn't let himself process anything past that. 

"We need to get a scan of your brain," Bruce says. "For starters." 

"For starters," Clark agrees tightly. 

Bruce tells Diana they're leaving, then abandons the rubble and takes Clark up to the Watchtower. Clark goes. He doesn't ask what electrocuted him or who's died in the past fourteen months or if there's anything immediately urgent that he should know. Bruce would've already told him, if there was. 

And he thinks he'd choke on the question if he tried, anyway. 

They go to the med bay. There's a total stranger standing in it who smiles at them when they step through the door. 

"Haven't seen you in here in quite a while, Superman," the stranger observes in amusement, tapping a pen against the clipboard in their hands. "You still haven't been in for that checkup I owe you, you know." 

"He doesn't know you," Bruce informs them evenly. The stranger blinks. 

"Sorry?" they say. 

"He was electrocuted," Bruce says. "Now he thinks it's fourteen months ago. We need a brain scan. Immediately." 

"Hell," the stranger says, their eyes widening in alarm. 

Clark gets the brain scan. 

He and Bruce wait in a convenient exam room for the results, which seem to be taking a while. Bruce seems a bit more guarded than usual, which means Clark is standing next to goddamn Fort Knox right now. He sighs to himself. 

"Suppose at this rate I should call and tell Lois and Jon I'll be late for dinner," he jokes wryly as he folds his arms, no real humor in the comment, and Bruce goes very, very still beside him. 

. . . hell. 

They're not dead. He knows they're not dead, he heard their heartbeats before they left for the watchtower, Bruce would've already told him if either of them were–

"They aren't expecting you," Bruce says with absolutely no intonation whatsoever in his voice. "You moved out eight months ago. The divorce is already finalized." 

"Ah," Clark says, very slowly. He doesn't let himself process, again. Not–just, not yet. "What happened?" 

"You left them," Bruce says, and Clark . . . blinks. 

"I left them?!" he demands incredulously. Leaving Lois is one thing, horrible and impossible a thought as it is, but– "Not just–I left them both?!"

"As you explained it to me, you were no longer interested in maintaining the . . . 'persona' of Clark Kent," Bruce replies carefully, looking just past him. "You said you couldn't stand the screaming anymore. That you appreciated us . . . humoring you for so long, but you couldn't just keep walking around making excuses and lying to everyone while people were suffering and dying just because you had to pretend to be human for a while. So yes. You left them. Haven't visited since Lois finally signed the divorce papers. Haven't spoken to your parents either. You've been . . . erratic. Since Kon-El's disappearance. When we couldn't find him . . . when we couldn't even find out what happened to him . . ." 

"Oh," Clark says, and his heart sinks again. 

He doesn't understand, though. Kon is–he cares about the kid, obviously. Cares very deeply about him. He's pretty sure he even loves him, at this point. But he's not . . . 

It feels terrible to think it, but Clark doesn't understand why Kon disappearing like that would affect him enough to stop being Clark. It's awful, and he still hasn't let himself actually think about it happening at all because he really can't process it right now, but that awful? Really? Awful enough to abandon being any semblance of a normal person? Abandon Lois and his parents entirely? 

Abandon Jon entirely? 

Apparently, yes. 

"Technically you're on unpaid sabbatical from the Planet," Bruce tells him. "We thought you might . . . reconsider, once you'd grieved properly, so Lois pulled some strings with Perry White. He thinks you're having an early mid-life crisis and your co-workers think you're off finding yourself in South America with a bad cell phone plan." 

"I guess I don't believe in satellite phones?" Clark says, trying for wry again. It doesn't work, but he tries all the same. 

"This is unfair of me, but I'm going to take advantage of your current mental state," Bruce says. He's looking at the wall, though there's nothing there to actually be looking at. Not even anything on the other side, at least not according to X-ray vision. "Try to remember how you feel right now, when your memories of the past year return. Try to remember who you are right now, when those memories return."

"Why?" Clark asks, watching him carefully as he does. The corners of Bruce's mouth tighten. Just barely, but undeniably. 

"You've been . . . gone, Clark," Bruce says slowly. "You won't even answer to 'Clark' anymore. You aren't the same man that I . . . that we all . . ." 

The stranger comes back before Bruce has to admit to too many personal feelings or Clark can figure out what to say to any of that, which might be a mercy but might also be–

The stranger looks . . . strange, Clark notices. Nauseated, almost. And definitely distressed. 

"I haven't done brain scans on Superman before," they say, their grip on their clipboard concerningly close to white-knuckled. "And my predecessor apparently hadn't done any in a while either. Last ones in the system are over two years old." 

"What's wrong?" Bruce says, narrowing his eyes. Honestly at this point Clark figures a kryptonite brain tumor would really just be the icing on the cake, and frankly would probably explain some of his apparent behavioral changes and current memory loss. That genuinely makes more sense than anything else, really, even with grief and guilt to contend with.

More sense than abandoning his own damn kid does, at least. 

Although a tumor's the worst-case scenario, obviously. And it can't be any worse than that, really, or any worse than anything he's apparently done to his family this past year, so at least he's braced for–

"There's an . . . organism," the stranger says, swallowing uncomfortably. "In your brain." 

"What?" Clark says. 

"A dead organism, now," the stranger clarifies. "But it looks like it's been there for a while. There are . . . roots. And . . . lesions, too." 

"An organism," Bruce repeats very, very slowly. "In Superman's brain." 

"Yes," the stranger says. 

"I don't . . ." Clark trails off. 

"We need more scans," Bruce says. 

"I ran it four times on two different machines," the stranger says. "It's organic. It's not giving off any recognizable life signs. It seems like it might've been . . . you mentioned electrocution, before?" 

"You think the electricity killed it," Bruce realizes. "And then Superman forgot fourteen months?" 

"I'm not sure Superman ever experienced those fourteen months to begin with," the stranger says tightly, gripping their clipboard even harder. 

Clark was in no way whatsoever braced for this. 

"Fuck," Bruce says. 

More scans happen after all. A lot more scans, a lot of specialists, and a lot of arguing. Everything's a bit of a blur, in a sense. Clark absorbs very little of it, and mostly leaves things to Bruce unless he's asked a direct question about his medical history. His judgment might be compromised right now, after all, whether the . . . organism is dead or not. 

The emergency OR gets prepped. The red sun lamps get set up inside it. 

"Should we contact Lois?" Bruce asks as Clark's shrugging into an ill-fitting hospital gown and preparing himself to possibly die in pursuit of getting a dead who-knows-what out of his brain before it can start to rot there and potentially kill him that way. "Or your parents?" 

"No," Clark says. "Just get this damn thing out of my head." 

If he doesn't survive the removal process . . . 

They don't know what's been going on. What he let happen to himself, somehow.

He isn't going to tell them he's back just to immediately take himself away again. 

He records something for Jon, just in case. It's not enough, but it's–something, he tells himself. It's something. 

It's all he can bring himself to do. 

He leaves the disk with the recording on it with Bruce and asks him to have Dick deliver it, if it's necessary. 

Things proceed from there, and Clark wakes up again a week later in a private room in the med bay, connected to half a dozen machines and needles and tubes and directly facing the sun. Diana is dozing in the chair next to his bed. Bruce is pacing at the foot of it. They're both in costume. Clark feels weak and groggy, but he can hear half a dozen other heartbeats lingering in the hall, so presumably they were expecting him to wake up around now. 

"Mm," he says. Diana snaps awake. Bruce stops mid-step. 

They both look at him. 

"The operation was a success," Bruce informs him. "Textbook. Or as textbook as removing a mind-controlling parasite of unknown origins from a Kryptonian brain can get for mostly-human surgeons, anyway." 

"Do you need anything?" Diana asks. "Would you like us to call your family yet?" 

Clark shakes his head, then closes his eyes and sleeps for another week. 

"Sleep", he supposes, counts as something that he needs right now. 

The next time he wakes up, he's alone in his room and disconnected from the machines and just feels . . . normal, really. Like nothing was ever wrong at all and he didn't just have major surgery that was, essentially, the equivalent of multiple traumatic brain injuries. His hair is already starting to grow back from where it was buzzed down for the surgery, and there's not even any bandages on his head. 

There's no noticeable scarring, Clark observes when he makes it to the little ensuite bathroom to take a look in the mirror. The surgeons told him there probably wouldn't be, given both the methods they'd been intending to use and the nature of his own physiology, but seeing the total lack of proof of what happened to him is just . . . strange, somehow. 

It feels almost like a cheat. Like it should be obvious, in some way. 

There was a parasite in his head. Something controlling him. Pretending to be him. Passing for him. It could've done anything it wanted. 

It did do things that Clark still has no idea about. 

So many things. 

He couldn't even fight it. Wasn't conscious or aware enough to, or just not strong enough to, or just . . . 

He couldn't even fight it. 

And he doesn't know what it did. 

The door opens. Diana walks in. 

"Would you like us to call your family now?" she asks. 

"Yes," Clark says roughly, curling his fingers around the sides of the sink in front of him. "Please." 

"Of course," Diana says with a terrible and merciless gentleness. 

Clark sits down on the lid of the toilet and just . . . cries. Just for a minute. 

Or twenty. 

Diana kneels in front of him and holds his hands in her own. 

Fourteen months, Clark thinks, all twisted up with grief and pain and so, so much regret. He missed so much. He wasn't there for Jon or Lois or his parents. He wasn't there for Bruce or Diana or the League, for either of Kara, for . . . 

For Kon. He wasn't there for Kon. 

Wasn't there for Kon when the kid needed him. 

Kon completely vanished, and who knows if the damn parasite even pretended to help look for him? If it did anything at all for him? Who knows if Clark could've found him, could've saved him, if he'd still been himself at the time? 

. . . who knows if the parasite isn't what made Kon disappear to begin with? 

It took fourteen months of Clark's life, and Kon . . . Kon disappeared two weeks into those fourteen months. 

If nothing else, the timing is a screaming red flag. 

Clark abandoned his son and might've murdered a kid who only ever looked up to him, a kid who he was never really able to fully understand but literally named, and he can't do anything to bring Kon back or to make up for the year that he wasn't there for the rest of his family. 

Their family. 

God, what has he done? What has Clark done, and did Kon die feeling afraid or shocked or terrified? Did he die feeling betrayed? Did he think it was Clark doing it, however it happened? 

Did he die thinking Clark wanted him to die? 

Clark doesn't even know what happened to his body. 

There won't be another resurrection.  

Clark chokes. Diana squeezes his hands. He grips hers like a lifeline and shudders through it. The grief is a terrible, ugly thing. It's one of the worst things Clark's ever felt. 

The guilt is worse. 

"Lois," he murmurs finally, feeling like the weakest man alive. "Could you call . . . Lois, please, and just . . . ask if she'll come. I'll explain it all to her, just–could you call her, please." 

"Yes," Diana says, squeezing his hands again. "Of course." 

"Thank you," Clark says. 

He pulls himself together, more or less, and Diana goes to make the call. She comes back a few minutes later and tells him Lois agreed, but needs to find a babysitter first. Clark in no way blames her for not bringing Jon along and frankly is surprised she's willing to come at all. 

He's not sure what he could even say to Jon right now. 

What can he? 

Diana makes sure he eats something, then leaves for monitor duty. Clark tries not to overthink things. Tries not to think too much at all. 

He spent fourteen months not thinking at all, though, all of it lost in one oblivious blink, so that doesn't work out all that well for him. 

An hour later, he hears the Zeta platform activate on the opposite side of the base, and hears Lois's heartbeat appear inside the watchtower. 

Clark exhales, very slowly. 

He waits. 

Lois comes to the med bay. She doesn't stop to talk to anyone on the way. Doesn't talk to anyone except that stranger Clark still doesn't actually know the name of, who tells her where to find him. 

And then a minute or a millennium later she's standing in the open doorway of his room, and Clark is looking at her. Her expression is neutral, and her hair is shorter than it was the last time he remembers seeing her–the last time he was the one actually seeing her. An inverse bob, not shoulder-length anymore. He recognizes the blazer and heels that she's wearing, but not the blouse or the pants. Not the earrings or the necklace, either. 

And there's no wedding ring to recognize either way. 

Clark wonders what happened to his. 

God, but she's still the most amazing woman he's ever seen, and he's still never once deserved a single part of her. Not even a fraction of a part. 

Especially not now. 

"Kal," she greets, tone just as neutral as her expression, and Clark aches. 

"Clark," he says, just a little too abrupt, and Lois–pauses. 

"Clark," she amends casually as she tucks her hands into the pockets of her blazer, and if he didn't know her quite so well he wouldn't have even heard the crack in her voice around his name, super-hearing or not. "Never seen your hair this short. I kinda miss the curl, not gonna lie. It has charm, you know? Very boy scout next door." 

"I had emergency brain surgery," Clark says. Lois pauses again. Tilts her head. He keeps talking. "Two weeks ago, now. Just woke up again fully today." 

"What?" she says, just staring at him. "You–what happened?" 

"It's . . . unclear, still," Clark replies slowly. "But as far as we can tell, roughly fourteen months back an unidentified alien parasite moved into my brain and . . . took me over, essentially. I don't actually–I don't remember any of that time. At all. Then two weeks ago I got electrocuted in Keystone and the parasite died. The surgery was to remove its body so my brain could heal from the damage it did without it rotting in there." 

Lois keeps staring at him. 

"Fourteen months," she echoes very, very carefully. 

"I'm so sorry," Clark says tightly. "Bruce told me I left you. Left you and Jon. That I stopped being . . . myself. I can't imagine how difficult that was, or how it must've felt." 

"I can't imagine how waking up and hearing that none of us even noticed you were gone felt," Lois says. 

"You never do pull a punch, do you," Clark says with a weak attempt at a smile. 

"I'm sorry," Lois says evenly. "I should've known." 

"No one did," Clark says, then . . . hesitates. "Or . . . we think no one did." 

"You think that's what happened to Kon," Lois says, because of course she's already done the math, and of course she's already had the thought herself. Obviously she would've. 

"The timing is . . . likely, at least," Clark says. "And really, if anyone was going to see my face and notice that a different person was wearing it . . ."

"You have a point," Lois murmurs. She steps into the room. Clark wants to hold her. He also wants to bury himself in the coldest, darkest place that he can find and never, ever let himself see the sun again. 

He doesn't deserve it anymore. 

"I'm so angry that I want to cry," Lois says, her voice very distant and her eyes locked on his. Clark can see her hands fisting in her pockets. "I'm so . . . god. I should've known. You never would've left Jon. Not like that." 

"Bruce made it sound like the parasite was . . . very convincing," Clark says. It convinced Bruce, who may just be the most paranoid mind on the planet, so . . .

"It was," Lois agrees, still without taking her eyes off his. "But I still should've known." 

Clark blinks a little too quickly. Lois tightens her jaw. Takes her hands out of her pockets and leaves them at her sides instead. Clark never thought he'd see them without her wedding ring again. 

"It's been–months, I know," he says, hating himself for thinking he even deserves to say this. "For you. But I still . . ." 

"I love you," Lois says. "Come home." 

There is no possible world in which he could tell her "no". 

Med bay makes him wait for another two hours of observation and runs some scans, but then they let him go. Lois waits with him the whole time. She doesn't call anyone or send any texts. Doesn't leave the room. Barely says a word. Hardly even takes her eyes off him, like she thinks if she blinks he's going to disappear. 

Clark can hardly keep her heartbeat out of his ears, so he doesn't blame her. 

He doesn't blame her at all. 

They go to Smallville. Bruce had said he'd send Dick to pick up Jon from the babysitter's and get him to the farm, and as much as Clark had wanted to go straight to him himself . . . 

Ma and Pa first, he reminds himself. This is going to be upsetting for Jon–most likely traumatic, once it all sinks in. And definitely disorienting. It'll be best if as many of the adults in his life as possible know what's going on in advance, so he can go to whoever he needs to go to; get whatever comfort they can prepare themselves to offer. 

Clark doesn't know how to do this. 

He doesn't . . . 

They don't take two steps onto the farm before a familiar blur is crashing into him head-on. 

"Oh," Clark manages, and Krypto barks excitedly and flies up to lick his face, tail wagging wildly as he jumps all over him. Like he's missed him. Like he's been waiting for him. 

Clark nearly cries again.

"Good boy, Krypto," he tells him, quiet and rough. "I missed you too, boy." 

He scratches Krypto's ears. Strokes his back. Krypto nearly bowls him over in delight. 

Clark buries his face in his neck and cries a bit after all. 

Lois watches. 

Waits. 

Clark spends . . . maybe a little bit too long crying on his dog, and then they all head up to the house. Ma and Pa are both standing on the porch; presumably they heard Krypto barking. They both look a little bit startled and a little bit confused and a lot more pained at the sight of him, and Clark swallows painfully and stops just before the porch steps. 

He looks at them, and he loves them so desperately. Everything they ever did for him, and everything they've ever been to him, and . . . 

"I'm sorry," he says. "I just . . . there was . . ."

God, the way this hurts. 

"It was mind control," he says. "The past fourteen months or so. I was . . . I wasn't. Wasn't here. Or . . . anywhere." 

"Oh," Ma says, and her eyes are instantly wet with tears. Pa blinks very quickly, his hand curling against the porch railing. 

"I'm so, so sorry," Clark repeats tightly, his own hands in useless fists. "But I'm–back now. I'm home." 

"Oh, Clark," Ma chokes, and then they both throw themselves at him. Clark's been hugged by people with strength far past superhuman, but it's never felt . . . 

No. It's never once felt the same way as when his parents do it. 

They cling to him. He clings back. Krypto barks again and swoops around the knot of them, wagging his tail hard enough to nearly knock Lois over with the force of wind it stirs up. Definitely some of the porch furniture gets displaced. 

Clark feels so much. 

They sit together on the porch, Krypto sprawled contentedly across Clark's lap and Lois on the steps beside him. Clark gives Ma and Pa what explanation he can–tells them everything he knows about Keystone and the electrocution and the watchtower and the surgery and waking up. They watch him just as intently as Lois does the entire time. 

He doesn't . . . he doesn't mention his suspicions about what might've happened to Kon. Not . . . not yet. 

He doesn't know how to. Not to Ma and Pa. Not after he brought the kid here and left him on their doorstep with no real direction and . . . 

Just–he'll tell them. He'll tell them soon. 

Just . . . not yet. 

It's not a very long talk, in the end. Ma and Pa take in everything he says and just take it all in stride, just like they always have. Baby in a spaceship? Kid with superpowers? Son who thinks he can save the whole damn world? 

Of course they take it in stride. 

Clark loves them too much to even define. Too much to even wrap his own head around. They're the best people he knows. The best people he's ever known. 

They don't even think there's anything for him to be sorry for. 

It's . . . painful, a little, when Clark realizes that. 

Or a lot. 

So, so damn painful. 

Clark hears the definitely-not-a-Batmobile coming, far down the road. Three heartbeats inside it. Dick, Damian, and . . . 

Jon. 

Obviously. 

Clark strokes Krypto's ears one last time, then gets up. No one asks him why, but he supposes the look on his face must be answer enough right now. 

He steps off the porch and goes to wait by the driveway. 

It's not that long a wait, but it feels like the better part of eternity.

[six-eyed-samurai]

Hello ! (I’m not sure if your requests are open but I love your fics so I really wanted to try 😭) Could you maybe write a Genya x Male reader one ? Where like Genya deals with confusion and internalised homophobia after realising he fell in love with a guy ? IM SO SORRY IF YOU DONT DO MALE READERS OR SMTH LIKE THAT, HAVE A GOOD DAY !!

SUMMARY: Genya's emotionally constipated. It's the Shinazugawa genes - but even more so when it comes to...guys?!

A/N: KYAAH Ty anon glad you enjoyed, and DW my inbox is open anytime I'm just a little slow in writing rn because of exams and I'm moving house. I have done male reader before but I'm not too used to writing gay T-T so I'm sorry if this turned out the way you wanted

WARNINGS: Male reader in case you don't read the asks and only warnings/Minor swearing

Much romance happens at Kimetsu Academy.

There's Zenitsu and Nezuko, although Genya considers it more of an obsession on the blonde’s end seeing as Nezuko doesn't openly display any signs of liking him back romantically, whatever the delusional idiot thinks. There's also Tanjiro and Kanao, the perfect epitome of friends to lovers. And whatever Aoi and Inosuke have going on.

But none of that ever happened to Genya. Sure, he thought the occasional girl was pretty or nice, but aside from the fact he explodes into a tomato just from a simple “hello” he's never been actually interested. Of course that occasionally made him feel a bit left out amongst his friends, like he was missing something great, but hey, Muichiro and him would be single pringles forever and that was fine.

(Genya's very betrayed to find out Muichiro had received a confession…and was considering accepting it.)

But it was a little unbelievable to the Kamaboko Squad that in all of the sixteen years of his life he had never had a crush, hence the interrogation they were giving him that particular day during lunch.

“Have you never fallen in love? At all?!” Genya wants to snort; as if Zenitsu would ever notice anybody else's love life but his own.

“HAHAHAHAA! LOSER!”

Tanjiro calmly shoved Inosuke away from a fuming Genya, smiling brightly. “I'm sure Genya has one! And we'll be more than happy to help him confess!”

“Aren't crushes supposed to be secret-”

“Then we have to figure out who it is first!” Zenitsu hollers.

“No-”

“Is it Kocho?!”

Kanao, Tanjiro and Genya both look scandalised but Zenitsu barrels on. Aoi face palms. Inosuke steals everyone's food.

“Is it Kanrojii?!”

“Why is everyone you're listing so much older than me!”

“OKAY, OKAY! Uh…Koyuki-”

“SHE'S ENGAGED TO SOMEONE ELSE!”

“Sheesh, I got it, stop yelling! That Shabana girl?”

“Just why-”

“Maybe Genya does like someone but just doesn't realize it,” Kanao offers timidly.

“That's a good point, Kanao!” Tanjiro beams, causing Genya and Kanao to flush red but for entirely different reasons.

“How am I supposed to know if I like someone?”

“If you find them cute?”

“That seems really superficial,” Aoi says disapprovingly.

“You'll get really nervous around them, like your heart speeds up. You'll probably stare at them a lot too, and want to do lots of things for them, maybe hold open doors?” Tanjiro nods wisely.

“And they're the first person you look at to see if they're laughing at a joke,” Kanao agrees.

Genya considers. “Then none of the girls you just listed, honestly.”

“It's alright, you'll find the one for you one day. There's no rush now.”

“HAHAHA! TENYA IIDA IS GOING TO BE ALONE FOREVER! HAHAHHAA!”

“MY NAME IS GENYA!”

***

Truth be told Genya had lied.

It wasn't a lie exactly either. More of…an avoidance of the truth. He didn't feel that way about any girls Zenitsu had mentioned, or any of the girls at school.

But he did like someone, yes.

Or no. Definitely not. It couldn't possibly be.

“Oh, hey, Shinazugawa.” Your simple wave as you joined his side outside the classroom door was enough to get his heart pounding and slightly sweaty like he had just suffered an entire class with the gym teacher Tomioka.

“Thanks for holding the door!” You call out over your shoulder, flashing him a bright smile while entering the class and taking your seat. You immediately turn to start talking with your friends, something Genya's extreme thankfully for because then you can't see the tomato red that's painting his face as he's still stuck, frozen and speechless, by the door. Only Iguro-sensei’s cold “Do you plan to have the lesson by the door or something?” Shook him out of it.

You're so confusing, Genya thinks, averting his eyes when you catch his with a mouthed “oops” and raised eyebrows, because he wants to revel in your attention and hide in a hole from it at the same time.

It was a pleasant kind of confusion, though. The kind he wouldn't mind thinking about forever; it gave him an oddly warm, fidgety feeling inside like he had just drunk an entire thermos of hot chocolate and got marshmallows to top it off. Then he promptly slaps himself (mentally) because he shouldn't be thinking about this, that and you.

Not like it stopped him from staring at the back of your head all through class. He doesn't realize it until your friend turns their head around and makes a face at him, leaning closer to you to whisper something. Genya panics and ducks his head, burying it into his arms for a few minutes before he judges it's safe to look up.

And when he does you're smiling at him knowingly, as if the both of you knew something the rest don't. Oh good lord.

Your laughter is something Genya wishes he could make as well, when the whole class watches Iguro-sensei trying to tell Inosuke off, but the dumbass can't get the teacher’s name right at all. He finds himself laughing as well, a combination of that and because of you before it hits him.

“You'll get really nervous around them, like your heart speeds up. You'll probably stare at them a lot too, and want to do lots of things for them, maybe hold open doors?”

Oh shit. Check, check, check.

“And they're the first person you look at to see if they're laughing at a joke.”

And check?!

Shit shit shit shit shit-

Genya groans. He does like you after all.

But that's not right, it's got to be wrong.

You're a boy. Genya's not gay…at least he didn't think so…Then again he's never actually liked a girl. But he's never liked a boy either. Until you.

Forget it! You're not a crush, you're the reason why Genya is going to drive himself crazy right now! Hell, why did the idea feel so wrong but so right at the same time?

Genya rubbed his temples. If he was being honest the idea only seemed so wrong because…well, because he's just never considered that possibility before. It just hasn't really occured to him he might be attracted to the same gender. It's a new concept, yes, but…not really a terrible one. He got all red with girls yes but it wasn't because he like-liked them or thought they were cute.

Was crushing on a guy really going to be any different than a girl then? Genya groaned again. Judging by his behaviour these days…yeah, not really.

Okay, then if hypothetically he DID like you and he liked guys…how would Sanemi and his friends react? Would they still want to hang out with him? Would Sanemi still…consider him his brother? What would his mom think?

What a headache. What would…you think? It'd be pretty embarrassing to like you and you're straight, Genya thought. Then again was he even sure he was gay, even certain he had a big fat crush on you?

“Hey, you alright?” The voice startles Genya out of his thoughts. He lifts up his head and looks around, startled to see everyone's left. Shit, he hadn't even realized class was over. Idiot.

He glances to his left and nearly dies of fright.

You cock an eyebrow. “Um, seeing a ghost, Genya?”

“No!” He just about shouts, flailing his arms as he tries to stop himself from falling out of his chair. “I'm fine! Really! Sorry…just, just kinda out of it.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

Yeah, let's talk about how I've just realized I might be-

“It's fine, it's nothing important.” Genya notices your fidgeting however. “What about you?”

You hesitate. You're playing with your sleeves quite nervously. It's making him paranoid.

“I'm just…there's a new arcade that just opened up.”

“Sounds fun,” Genya offers. He's got barely enough brain cells still functioning from the close proximity between you both.

“I was wondering - um, do you wanna go with me? I can buy all the tokens,” you quickly blurted out and held your breath.

“Sure.”

“N-no. Just you and me. Like on a date.” You rub the back of your neck, looking away. “No - no pressure or anything! I know you might not be into guys, you might already like a girl-"

“You're gay.”

You wince at his tone. Genya wishes he hadn't sounded so accusing. “Last I checked, yeah.”

“Sounds fun,” Genya repeats dumbly, because holy shit, you like him you like guys too he likes guys he really wants to go to the arcade with you oh thank god-

You blink. “So that's a…yes?”

“Absolutely.” Genya waves his hands frantically. “If you're still up for it! Nothing’s awkward! I - I do want to go as a date, not as friends, and, uh-"

He snaps his head away, embarrassed, but he glances back long enough to see you grinning like you've won the lottery.

"Does 2 pm work for you?"

Shit. He really does like you after all. And with the way you're smiling at him like that maybe he can deal with whatever bullshit that's going to come next.

***

“Hey Genya, do you want to come over this weekend?”

“Muichiro wants to go to that pizza place again.”

The Tokito twins stare at him expectantly over the usual din of the Kamaboko Squad's usual shenanigans. Now or never.

“Sorry, I'm busy.”

“With what?” Muichiro looks out off; Yuichiro frowns in surprise.

“With someone.”

The silence was so thick you could've cut it with a knife - or Zenitsu's screaming.

“WHO?”

“HAR?!”

“Is it a date?” Tanjiro managed to slap a hand over the blonde's mouth while Aoi deals with Inosuke. The twins and Kanao's mouths hang open in surprise.

Genya picked at his food. “Yeah. At the new arcade.”

“Congratulations!”

“I thought you were planning to be single forever-”

“Shut up, Mui!”

“With who?"

He says your name and again the silence is thick.

Tanjiro's eyes light up in recognition and shock. “Isn't that the new boy?”

Genya nods stiffly.

“You're…gay?” Kanao asks tentatively.

Genya nods again.

“I had no idea! I never would've guessed either.” Tanjiro shakes his head, stunned. Much to Genya's relief…he's smiling? “But good for you, Genya, I'm sure you'll enjoy the date!”

This wasn't so bad after all. It's like a weight’s been lifted off his shoulders. Now it's just how well…Sanemi will take it and his family. Probably not as easy.

“I thought it was a little weird you rejected that cute girl the other day.” Muichiro looks excited. “Now I've got a gay best friend!”

“What are you, twelve?” Yuichiro grumbles, but turns to Genya. “Have a good time then.”

“THIS IS UNBELIEVABLE! DON'T SHOCK US LIKE THAT, GENYA!” Zenitsu finally squawks, clutching his heart.

“Wait, what's gay?” Inosuke's lost. “Is Genma happy or something?!”

Never mind.

***

“Damn, I knew you were good at shooting, but basketball too?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, pretending to throw an imaginary ball as Genya throws an actual one through the basket easily.

“Heh, this one's just easy since it's so near.” The machine flashes lights and beeps, displaying a new highest score. “And kinda short.”

“You are pretty tall,” you agreed, counting the leftover tokens. “Hey, we still have enough for that claw machine!”

“Seriously?”

So far the date's going pretty well. Genya hadn't made a fool of himself when you showed up dressed up in that letterman jacket and excitedly tackled him yelling about how you managed to get about an entire bag's worth of tokens. You both had spent your time mostly fooling around playing air hockey, shooting games (he had a moment of crisis before sitting next to you in the cramped space), he got forced to dance with you, you claimed he cheated at the racing, he won you a figurine as an apology for accidentally smacking your hand during Whack-A-Mole. Genya was kind of regretting that now, because you were now convinced Genya had amazing luck and could continue to win you more prizes. But as Sanemi said - a million times - those things were a scam, so Genya compromised by saying if only there was tokens leftover from the basketball game.

Alas and alack, he supposed, but you were already speeding towards the claw machine.

“Come on, come on, almost there, almost there!” Your chanting is barely heard over the obnoxious arcade music but you're practically breathing down his neck.

“Okay, okay, I got it, shut up for a sec.” Genya's grip on the controls is so tight he's actually afraid he might rip out the joystick by mistake like Sanemi last time…although Sanemi had done that on purpose during his rage quit and since had been banned from that particular arcade.

“Dear Kami-sama, please, please, please-”

“SHIT.”

“NOOO! So close!” Your head's tossed back in an exaggerated groan, flipping off the stupid claw that let go just a second too early. “I could've won that Hashira figurine!”

“I was the one playing!” Genya protested.

“I got the tokens!”

“I offered to pay you back! You said no!”

You punched his shoulder playfully. “Hey, this was supposed to be my treat. You can pay for the next date.”

“Next - next what-"

“Oh jeez, your face is so red now. Let's get some fresh air; I know a good dessert store.”

Genya's down bad alright.

***

“Where the hell have you been?”

It's already late by the time Genya lets himself into the house. His siblings should've been asleep, his mom too, so hopefully he could…uh, break the news the next day, when he's written and planned everything out, chewed off his nails and get that support you promised him earlier.

Luck had decided to abandon him since his second attempt at the claw machine however, since now he's been caught kicking off his shoes and smiling down at his phone, at the picture you've sent him of the figurine in your shelf.

>>Maybe I'll get more from you

You wi<<

He shuts off his phone quickly. Sanemi’s sitting on the sofa, arms crossed and does not look like a happy camper. Genya tries for an innocent smile. He probably looks like he has a stroke. If Sanemi were a cop, every criminal would be cracking in less than a minute under his interrogations.

“Out with a friend. Sorry I'm late, I was talking them back home.”

“Really? Saw all your friends - Tokito twins and that Kamado kid - earlier today. Try again."

“Someone else.”

“Cut to the chase, Genya, you were out on a date, weren't you?” Sanemi barks.

Genya's shoulders slump. “Yeah. Please don't be mad, I did tell Mom.”

“You should focus on studying. Your math grades are still too low.” Sanemi's expression softens, just slightly. "Who's the lucky girl?"

“Ah.”

“I swear to god, if it's that Shabana girl-”

“It's a guy.”

A very awkward beat of silence.

“WHO?!”

Genya almost expects to be attacked when he says your name. Or mauled after Sanemi demands every detail of what went down at the arcade. Maybe thrashed while finally confessing yes, he's not straight. But not stand there while Sanemi stares at him, strangely quiet.

“You two didn't do anything suspicious?”

Nope. You'd been quite understanding when he admitted he was still kind of getting used to the newness of…all this and offered to save a kiss for next time, causing him to explode into scarlet and try to poke you with his straw. “Aniki!”

“Is this a new thing or have you been…keeping this from me?” Unbelievable. His older brother almost looks hurt by that notion.

“A new thing, I swear, I wasn't planning on keeping anything from you, I was just waiting for the right time and right thing to say and I - I didn't know how you'd react.”

“Well…” Sanemi mutters something unintelligible, eyes moving away slightly.

“Um…what?”

“I SAID, AS LONG AS YOU'RE HAPPY WITH HIM, IT'S FINE BY ME! NOW GO TO SLEEP!”

Genya couldn't stop his grin. “Really? Thank - thank you, Aniki, and okay, I will.”

“And don't do anything too intimate before you're married!”

***

You spat out your straw. “He said what?”

Genya takes a long sip of his latte, slipping his hand into yours. “I didn't make that up.”

“No,” You say, shaking your head. “That sounds like Shinazugawa.”

[nicosraf]

Hello!! I hope this isn’t an odd/rude question to ask but it’s been on my mind a lot.

And forgive me if any of my assumptions about these characters are incorrect or if I’m just missing something, my media literacy isn’t always awesome hahaha

So anyways, we all know Rosier and Asmodeus’s relationship is pretty unhealthy, but if I’m remembering right I feel like I’ve seen some descriptions of their relationship that imply that they’re Both bad for each other.

Maybe I just wooby-ify Rosier too much because I love him lol, but I honestly have a bit of a hard time not seeing Asmodeus as the sole aggressor/one in the wrong regarding their relationship issues, and mostly only seeing Rosier as a victim of Asmodeus’s assault.

Perhaps Rosier’s wrongdoing just comes from his desire to stay with Asmodeus despite the pain and trauma it left him with? I’m not sure, but I was just wondering if there was something I may have missed that Rosier had done/currently does that would also hurt Asmodeus too?

I mean obviously other than cutting his head off but that was in self defense so I don’t count that haha. But then again, maybe that is what Rosier did wrong? I’m not sure lol

Hi! Not a rude question at all! I really like talking about Rosier (that's why he's getting his whole own novella (in case you didn't know, since I've only discussed this on my newsletter).

Rosier doesn't have... any wrongdoing, so to speak. In terms of his relationship with Asmodeus, he definitely hasn't done anything wrong. Asmo and Rosier are not a case of "they're both bad people so it's fine that they're toxic" (like Lucifer and Baal, for example, or even Lucifer and Michael in A&M). Rosier is a victim and there's not a lot of nuance about it. He was hurt and it wasn't his fault.

I'm not sure if you mean something I've said when you say "descriptions" but if you do, let me explain what I mean when I say that Rosier isn't that "good" of a person. (This isn't going to be "Rosier is toxic and evil too, and he's evil to Asmodeus" because he's not. He has (toxic) codependency issues with Asmodeus, but that doesn't make him evil. I mean, we can understand that as a result of the trauma of losing, you know, God.)

So to make it very clear, let me tell you about demon Rosier without bringing Asmodeus into the equation about Rosier's morality:

Rosier knows what Lucifer is up to all the time. He knows a lot of the awful things Lucifer is responsible for. Rosier might be out of place with the demons, but he's kind to them (see: Baal). He will clean up the blood of innocent people if Lucifer asked him to. He would do it if Baal asked him to. (Even if he's sad about it, he'd still do it). If Baal needed someone to comfort him after a mass murder, Rosier would hold him. If any horrible demon needed a shoulder to cry on, Rosier would offer his.

Rosier is a very kind person. He's actually what happens when you're too kind. He makes excuses and he allows bad people around him to do whatever they want. He's almost a complete bystander. He's not as trapped as he thinks himself to be. And (this is important in his novella) being a "good person" is about more than just smiling at people, it's about not letting bad things happen to innocent people. (Sometimes we read about horrible people irl and we're shocked by the family/friends around the perpetuators that just let them get away from it. We like to imagine they agreed with it, but the truth is that they probably just kept making excuses. They downplayed it because they loved them. (I used to know the son of a very bad man (a guy with a wiki page, so yeah it was bad), and though the man is locked up for life, the son loved his father. He loved him so much he just refused to think about the people his dad hurt. Does this make the son a bad person? Who knows, but it definitely puts his morality into question. I mean, are you really willing to forgive the worst crimes imaginable against innocent people just because you love someone or think that you do?))

This is also why demons can be annoyed with Rosier for acting so angelic. They think that Rosier is just as bad as everyone else just by virtue of never doing anything about the bad things. They think he just wants to feel better about himself.

So returning back to Asmo, yeah Rosier is not the aggressor here. Not even a little. Rosier's imperfect goodness exists even though he's a victim. (I feel like I say this a lot in relation to characters in the series but yeah — you can be a victim and do things of dubious morality). His imperfect goodness exists independent of Asmodeus (Lucifer, Baal, for example) but exists within the context of his love for Asmodeus, as well. Not that Asmodeus is hurt by it. Asmodeus is mostly hurt by his own actions and his own thoughts. If you asked Asmo, I think he would tell you that Rosier's never done anything wrong to him.

Anyway! This is really long! but Rosier's morality is very fun for me to talk about because of how complex it is. There's a line in his novella about how there are 2 kinds of demons: those that kill and those who knowingly welcome the killers home. And Rosier realizes that despite how kind and good he wants to be, despite his intent, he's become the latter.

In essence,

[darkfictionjude]

I have so many questions, observations, speculations, and theories. I will likely bother you with several of them over the coming days, but for now, I will try to limit myself to observations and theories concerning Lorcan.

Suck it, Imre. Jk jk kinda

I have only recently found this if, so forgive me if I cover things that have been broadly discussed.

I believe that Orla's locket originally belonged to Lorcan's mother. I wonder if when he says he has nothing of hers, he is referring to his mother as opposed to Orla. Lesson here being... Don't give away precious irreplaceable things to high-school sweethearts. This is a teaching moment for younger readers.

Moving on.

Arthur spoke of seeing Lorcan around town with Candace, despite Lorcan's claim of not knowing her. He made quite a show of not remembering her name. Candace's mother also mentions Lorcan in relation to her daughter. Why would Lorcan lie? Perhaps he was selling drugs to her? But no. That wouldn't be something he would feel the need to hide from Crownie and Co. I suspect shame is a motivation here. When grieving or depressed it is common to search for anything to make you feel any other way. Drugs is a common outlet. As is fighting... and sex. I read in another ask that Lorkin has had sex only once. I think that it was with Candace, not Orla. He would definitely hide this not only because of shame but because he would never want anyone to trivialize his feelings for Orla or imply that she was less important to him than she actually was. I do wonder why Crownie and Imre haven't rubbed the indescrepancy in his face? Can't wait to find out (I can. But I don’t want to).

As for Crownie and Lorcan... Crownie. Really. Never have thought of Lorcan sexually or romantically prior to the hospital? Truly? "Never forgot that water droplet over the years." "Added one thick one sliding down his pectorals." Very sus, Crownie. Very sus indeed.

Looking forward to finding out just why Lorcan hates Crownie so much.

Ah the young heart, truly Lorcan is a romantic

It’s funny because I actually was wondering why no one had asked me about this?? Like he’s named in connection with two of the girls already and I was surprised this is the first time someone has pointed it out 😭 but yeah, you see Crowny hasn’t picked up on it and I really liked the idea of readers knowing something before Crowny did. Why doesn’t Imre say anything….. I’ll let you speculate

Hahaha Crowny is so strange they might’ve thought everyone had those thoughts about people 💀 or it’s the shame factor weighing in along with it being contradicting to them to feel this way for someone they have a horrible relationship with

As for that….. hmmm should I say? The answer lies in one of the five episodes but I won’t tell you where. It’s there but it’s missing the piece for you to get it. Keeping thinking detective nonnie 🕵️

[nobody-is-here01]

back on my bullshit, (im here to spam you Marine Luffy stuff)

Thinking about Marine Luffy’s dynamic with the 7 warlords and it's one of the funniest things ever.

Boa Hancock is going to get her own post because I have SO MUCH to say about her and Canon! Luffy along with Marine Luffy’s dynamic with her.

Anyway, personal headcanons of what I think Marine Luffy and the Warlords dynamics are.

Doflamingo: Luffy is usually the one who during Warlord meetings has to deal with Doflamingo’s bullshit. This is partially because Luffy is the only thing that really puts the fear of god back into Doflamingo. Also, Marine luffy is absolutely feral, and terrifying, and does indeed bite. I think in some twisted ways Luffy in this AU reminds Doflamingo of when he's younger. In some fucked up way of trying to cope with trauma Doflamingo tries to simulate situations that he went through as a kid to see how Luffy reacts. To see if things had been a bit better, if things had been different, if Doflamingo could have been a better person. The Dressrosa Arc still happens in this AU except a bit later. As Doflamingo’s tyrant rein finally falls he realizes that “huh maybe we never were that similar…”

(I have no idea if this AU is a Crocomom AU or not but I’ll go ahead and write up how it would go in either situations.)

Crocodile: Dynamic is definitely more cold and distant than in an AU where Crocodile is Luffy’s other parent. Luffy is seen as a threat, and Crocodile has at least 15 different drawn-up plans on how to deal with him. (none of these plans would actually work in practice.) The dynamic is pretty much just business, you leave me be I’ll leave you be.

Crocomom: Similar to the first one. Except the first time he meets Luffy and he hears that he's Garp's grandkid he's freaking the fuck out. Because holyshit, that's his alive, grownup, kid. Crocodile has no idea how to explain to Luffy that like “hey im your biological mother, now a man, hahaha…” So Crocodile simply doesn't. (The two of them do have a heart-to-heart much later alone in Impel down during the breakout.)

Moria: Honestly I don't have much to say about him. Luffy absolutely hates Hogback and Absolom though. So Luffy has a dislike for Moria and what he does. But Moria out of all the warlords not including Kuma is the easiest to deal with, so that earns him some brownie points.

Kuma: Im not sure if you caught up with the latest chapters. (specifically his backstory chapters) so I will be staying silent for now as not to spoil anything for you.

Mihawk: Mihawk is both intrigued and concerned at the beginning. Because that is Shank’s hat, and Shank’s kid. Why is Shank’s brat in the Marines?? Mihawk also like all the other warlords tends to use Luffy as some form of a coping mechanism. It's not uncommon to hear about Luffy and Mihawk getting into another physical fight. But after a while, Mihawk does realize that he has been accidentally treating Luffy as if he is Shanks. Mihawk realizes that he can't force Luffy to become his new sparring partner. Luffy is not Shanks, and he can't fill that hole either. After Marine Ford Mihawk reads the news regularly, a rare grin on his face whenever he catches sight of a straw hat.

Jinbei: That is Luffy’s emotional support parental figure your honor! The only one who is normal, safe, and sane. Also, the only one to look at Luffy and go “Are you okay?? I don't think healthy humans are supposed to act like that.” Also, the one to get Luffy to open up and heal slowly after Marineford. Also Luffy definitely knows the full truth of what happened to Fisher Tiger in this AU, so yeah that's something.

(I am so sorry, this is a really long post 💀)

Aaaahhhhhh!!! I've missed you and your bullshit bombarding my asks!

I love how with each dynamic all of them are also like, 'alright this kid is fucked up, keep an eye on him' but for different reasons

So here are some of my thoughts on what Marine Luffy’s relationship is with the warlords (love yours so much)

Crocodile : so unfortunately not a coco-mom au, like you said their relationship is strictly business, Luffy doesn't really care for the warlords as long as they don't get in his way.

Domflamingo : Luffy finds him kinda annoying so he tries to avoid any situation where he would meet him, unfortunately he can't at warlord meetings, but he's tried, probably one of the only warlords Luffy wouldn't mind punching out of the blue, dude would punch him without reason (gets away with it too)

Kuma : (no sadly not that far yet but I know a bit of his background not much though) but Luffy likes him

Moria : almost the same relationship as Domflamingo, except he just straight up avoids him, unless he has to deal with Moria then he will and he'll do it quickly

Mihawk : one of the few warlords Luffy actually respects, he admires his fighting and his character, granted it annoyed him a bit to constantly be reminded of Shanks, like you said he also like the other warlords used luffy as some form of coping, but after he realized what he did he stopped and him and Luffy kinda became like gossip buddies, like they'd hang out whenever Mihawk was in the area, but Luffy wouldn't actively seek him out, Mihawk would have to come to him if he wanted someone to talk to or spar with,

Jimbe : only warlord and person that Luffy actually likes from the warlords, yes he likes Mihawk, but Jimbe is different, Luffy has a sort of awe for Jimbe and felt very honored to know about him and his past with Fisher Tiger, Jimbe is the only one who knows that Luffy secretly wishes he was a pirate instead of a Marine, when Jimbe asked why Luffy didn't just become a pirate now Luffy replied saying that he's made so many promises to the people he protects that he doesn't want to go back, not now at least, Jimbe is also the only one who knows about Ace and Sabo and how much Luffy misses them and how proud he is of them

absolutely love your asks 🩷

Have aa good day/night

[thelonelyshore-if]

Hiiii, I hope you have a nice day today. I just read the second chapter and woahhh, it was a mountain of emotions. I love the way you write and how you describe the atmosphere in tense situations.

That moment between the trees I can still imagine it and it gives me the chills. Hahaha

And by the way, a bit of a spoiler ahead: the choices we have during our near death experience will be relevant later in some way? I got the impression that we'll somehow return to a similar situation, a lot.

So ok, hear me out, my theory is that maybe we might have some "magic" in us, maybe even our mere intuition is much sharper than normal, like Willow.

This town reminds me a lot of the "other side" in the Stranger Things series, although somehow this place was "cut" off the map.

It wouldn't be too weird to think that both sides are connected (the real world and this side).

Willow is over there, and knowing our brother, he must already know what happened to us and must be on cloud nine because all his theories and stories turned out to be true. Maybe even the reason he called us right to the cabin was to tell us about this town, the Lake, the Woods and the Mist, maybe he even had proof.

I have an idea that the lake lured us in with a vision of Willow drowning, so, when we enter the water we see Willow safely on the shore because that IS the real Willow.

This kinda way is how the lake and the forest probably catch more people.

In fact, all the missing people in town are people who have tried to leave and escape...our lead is that one surviving girl who has returned, we need to talk to her.

I think we might be able to make a connection with Willow back and forth, or he might make it first. Seeing as Willow hasn't left the scene yet, aaaaand he's the only one who knows what happened to us and how to help us.

Another thing, I'm going for the romance with Ravi, but I swear on my life, I really want to punch him so hard that he wipes that smile off his face. Hahaha 😂

God I just wanted to yell at him to go to hell or shut up. 😭🙄 Like yeah dude, I know you have your reasons and probably a very traumatic experience with this, but that's not an excuse to be an arrogant idiot with us.

Hopefully we can say some things to him when we get back and give him a good smack. 😌

Anyway, sorry for babbling so much, I had to get all this out of me. Hahaha great story, lots of cheers and creepy hugs. 💀

(sorry if I say something weird, english is not my first lenguaje).

Good morning!! I hope you're having a lovely day as well!

First off omg thank you so much, I'm really glad you enjoyed it! Evoking strong emotions is a huge goal of mine so it makes me really happy to hear you enjoyed my writing and the atmosphere. The trees were definitely a scene I was super excited about, it was very vivid in my mind as I wrote it haha.

And I'm loving where your mind is at!! You're right in that the experience MC has during the crash won't be the last time it happens. Something inside the MC is already starting to change...

I loved reading the rest of your thoughts, thank you so so much for sharing. This ask brought a big smile to my face. In regards to Ravi... yeah, he can be a real ass lmao. I'm excited to write the scene where the MC can ask wtf his deal is. They've got a lot to work out already ^.^'

Thank you again <3

[lightlycareless]

https://www.tiktok.com/t/ZTLu3Bq6F/

I saw this and it made me think of Naoya trying to record something cute for Y/N while she’s out but this happens instead. I wonder which kid this would be since I don’t see Naomi doing this (It feels Naohime coded lol)

Hello!!!

What is up with these videos; seriously, is it just me or are they not appearing anymore? ANYWAYS the tiktok went on something like this: a dad lays down next to their child, trying to record them playing or so, the kid is not having it and smacks them on the face with their toy. hahahaha Poor guy.

But definitely Naohime coded. Naomi is such a sweetheart (when she doesn’t require attention, of course. Because if not… well, we all know what happens.) if anything she loves video calls with her parents, recording videos and such ☺️

warnings: none. just fluff. your youngest daughter is kind of a brat tho hahaha. also idk if it's necessary but naoya is like a happy and loving man/husband/father so YEAH I've redeemed him in my blog :)) just in case there's new readers around.

Happy reading!

But Naohime… oof, Naohime doesn’t like it when she’s interrupted, or doing anything that she doesn’t feel like. If she’s playing that’s the only thing she wants to do; if she’s watching cartoons, don’t even look at her, she doesn’t exist until the episode is over!

This was a well-known fact by everyone around, and yet… Naoya hoped that maybe this one time she wouldn’t react that way. Maybe she’ll go along with recording a small video for you when away, or even join a video call, just like his other children happily did so.

And yet… he’d be proved wrong the moment Naoya decides to lay down next to his youngest who was diligently playing with one of her newest toys, discreetly adding her into frame when video calling you. It was simply a matter of asking when she’d become aware of this happening, and how she’d react.

“—how is everything over there? Are my adorable babies and my handsome husband behaving well?”

“Were you expecting differently?” He teases with a smirk.

“No, of course not.” You giggle. “Mmm, well, maybe a bit from you.”

“Really? What for?” Naoya asks back, and when you give him silence, he just laughs. Oh, why must you tease him when he can’t do anything about it? If you weren’t so far away, that’d be another story. But until then… “My love, can you see who I’m with right now?”

“Oh, who is it—” you excitedly breathe, eager to see one of your kids after… well, 24 hours. You and Naoya call each other every single day, some of your children find it reasonably annoying.

Either way, it makes you grin as if it had been weeks since you last saw her—your cute Naohime nonchalantly playing, dressed up in that adorable light blue onesie one of your staff members got her a few days ago, which you’ve wanted to see on her for the longest! “Oh, Naohime! My sweet adorable little muffin, what are you doing cutie? Are you having fun with papa?”

She doesn’t respond nor look up to the phone, simply focused on the task at hand. She’s determined, all right... kind of reminds you of Naomi when she was younger.

Though slightly different in certain aspects as you soon remembered upon seeing Naoya beginning to “disturb” her.

“Wait, Naoya—”

“Come on, angel, say hi to mama.” Naoya lightly nudges her. “Don’t you miss her? She certainly misses you!”

“Naoya… she’s going to get angry…” you caution at the frown in her face already forming.

“It’s just a small hi, my love, it won’t be that bad—”

But to Naohime, it was; the gravest transgression yet! For the moment she catches wind of his intentions, she does not waste time to let him know of her disapproval, raising her hand, alongside her toy, to strike a loud smack! On his face, one that has him recoiling, hissing and whining at the burning, pulsating pain he didn’t think his daughter was capable of!

Well, at least she has a strong grip! He just hoped he hadn’t found out this way.

“Oh my god, Naoya, are you ok?!” You gasp, naturally concerned by your husband… as well as slightly amused by your daughter’s antics! You were out there dying trying your best to not laugh in front of him, but it was just so funny how quick she was to put him in his place! Thankfully, he didn’t seem too upset about the matter.

“Ye—yeah; I just—I was just caught off guard, that’s all.” Naoya says, rubbing his face just where he was hit. “I didn’t think our baby had that in her.”

“All of them have been like that, haven’t they? Strong I mean.”

“Yes, they have. Though Naohime has quite the punch…”

“Well, it’s not like our other babies went on smacking people when they weren’t happy.” You chuckled, Naoya joining you soon after. “We gotta do something about that though, can’t have her hitting her papa all the time… she’s going to ruin his handsome face!”

“Oh, and you would hate that, wouldn’t you?”

“Obviously, nothing but a nightmare!” You jest.

“I can’t wait to have you back.” Naoya murmurs. “When are you returning? I greatly miss you.”

“In a week or so.” You respond. “Will you still be able to pick me up from the airport?”

“I’ll go for you if you need me to.” At the thought of your husband and your babies flying over to Tokyo just to see you, like straight out of a movie, makes your heart swoon!

But as tempting as it was, it was better for them to wait for you at home. You have a small surprise for them, after all!

“It won’t be necessary—just you being there with our kids is enough for me.”

“You have something planned for us, don’t you?” you blush, startled by his quick wits.

“Don’t say anything! I want it to be a complete surprise!!”

“Alright, alright—I won’t check the bank statements either.”

“Haha… how funny…” you frown—it was only one time! “Well, I gotta go now, I just wanted to check in on you guys before it got too late.”

“Wait, do you want to see the rest before leaving?”

“Oh, yes please! If it’s possible!”

But the moment Naoya was to stand up from the bed, Naohime quickly grabs onto his sleeve, as if demanding he stay, or at least take her—a reaction that makes the two laugh at its irony: she might not like the attention, but that doesn’t mean she wants to be left alone!

“What is it, muffin? You want to go with me?” Naoya asked, and Naohime nodded. Ah, so she was ignoring the two… well, nothing they didn’t know already. “Alright, off we go to see your siblings.”

Naoya then swiftly picks her up, carefully holding her head against his chest as he made way towards the area he believed the rest of his kids to be—a loving sight that made you smile (would’ve thought that just moments ago Naohime had smacked him across the face?) as well as far more eager to return home, wanting to hug them tightly, never letting go, as you pepper their face with kisses, kisses, and more kisses!

Though cautiously with Naohime, for you wouldn’t want to meet a similar fate as Naoya—

But would you be able to control yourself? Probably not, there is no way you could with your adorable daughter. And that is a sacrifice you were willing to make.

The surprise is either you're pregnant again (unlikely, you got too many goddamn kids!!! Naoya needs to pull out) or you've got tickets to disneyland (courtesy of your dad) also, the bank statement thing is something I plan to write on about later on hahaha It's just something silly I think would happen between you and Naoya.

I hope you liked this little thing I wrote uwu I love the attention Naohime has been getting as of lately, we love our little gremlin 💖 jakhgjakshgjkashgjka I still can't believe she came from a dream haha.

Anyways, once again, thank you so much for sending in this ask!! Now, take care, and hope to see you soon 💖

[prince-liest]

The specific phrasing of “hurt very pretty” is. I knew before this series I was more into the soft sadism/dom thing but it’s soooo rare to find someone who does the exact flavor I’m into and I think that phrase in my head sooooo often

Ahaha, I'm so glad you're enjoying it! I've always really liked, as you describe it, soft sadism, where it's about the intimacy, the connection, and the sort of delightfully recursive loop you get when the suffering is enjoyed, and the enjoyment of the suffering also contributes to the suffering, whether it be via enthusiasm or humiliation. Funnily enough, despite the kind of stuff that I write, S&M that feels genuinely callous and miserable is fully capable of squicking me if it hits just wrong. I really like writing sadism that feels tender, even when it's violent.

Five more asks under the cut! If you sent something about 666 in the past 24-ish hours, it's probably there!

Your newest channel 666 fic had me so mixed on how to feel "Oh ok they're drunk and Al's on his lap... that wasn't in the tags oh no vox isn't advancing... nevermind he's electrocuting Al, i get it, a little something to get the blood pumping oh no wait he's actually electrocuting him oh good lord he's screaming in pain"

Hahaha, god, tagging this chapter was really a fucking nightmare - if there's anything you think I missed that's important to include, PLEASE let me know, because I tried to cover my bases but I really had to give up after a bit. It's just One Of Those Chapters and the first time I've used the Graphic Violence archive warning for something that was just fully consensual sexy times, haha. I hope it was at least enjoyable overall! Alastor certainly had a good time.

I've binged your 666 series and it irreversibly changed my brain chemistry It's more canon than everything that happened in the show itself to me - @grimfeywizard

Ahhhh, thank you so much! >:D I definitely tried to mimic the style of canon for the characters, especially for the first installments before they kinda went their own way character development wise, haha. I'm glad you like it!! <3

I was at a convention all weekend and when you updated BOTH times I snuck out of my group and into a corner to read them I am completely obsessed with this series 🙏🙏🙏 -@urlocal-cryptid7

Omg, glad to add the cherry on top of your con experience, hahaha. Thank you so much!!

hey there, just wanted to say i’m absolutely enraptured with the 666 series! it’s absolutely amazing and one of my favorite fics out there right now. i’m always looking forward to it and checking for updates, great work!!!!

Ahhhh, thank you for the kind words!! I'm really enjoying writing it in all of its weirdnesses, so it's always so nice to hear that people are enjoying the odd directions it goes!

Another fun radiostatic song: The Masochism Tango by Tom Lehrer - @butwhyaretheycalledstrawberries

This is 100% what I had playing in the car on repeat when I wrote one of the previous installments, hahaha. It's a fantastic radiostatic song, especially with the level of sadomasochism I write into 666.

(Anon who was awaiting the drunk Alastor shenanigans here) Me, pre-installment 8 of 666: Oh My God, it’s happening. Everybody STAY CALM- Me, post-installment 8 of 666: *ugly sobbing* it was everything i could ever hope for, your honor. The Prince(TM) is good and merciful. So yeah, expectations met as always 👍

Omg, ehehehe - drunk Alastor was honestly SO fun to write, because it's just... taking away a lot of his worries and inhibitions, and the behaviors that normally accompany them. I took what Mimzy said about him being a kitten when he's had a few drinks and lets loose and ran with it, and it turned out very enjoyable. I'm glad you also had a good time reading, hahaha!

[13eyond13]

Hey Bloz! How r u? I cannot even begin to express how fun it’s been to see ur Beatles posts on my dash. the minute I saw the Real Love demo I was like ok… she’s fallen down the rabbit hole XD I was fixated on them last year for a good few months. It was a lot of fun reading about them, watching their movies, and reading fan analyses online. There’s so much out there! And Beatles rpf is a whole world unto itself lol at first I was skeptical of it but then… I was intrigued haha

Do u have any fave songs or albums? :)

Omg hello Jess!! I miss you and it's so nice to hear from you 🫂

Hahaha YES I'm pretty deep into The Beatles lore rabbit hole already, it's been my main fixation for entertainment for the past month or so. You're right, there's just so much to dig into. Caught me totally by surprise, I feel like I'm so late to the game to just be having a Beatles phase now... I never felt extremely interested in learning about them before, but a randomly recommended YouTube video (x) about how it's reductive to blame the band's breakup solely on Yoko Ono drew me into this whole fascination a few weeks back.

😆 And hah, you must have sent this ask to me right before I deleted that "Real Love" demo reblog, because I thought I'd better delete it after I looked in the notes of the post and saw the OP wasn't taking kindly to anybody questioning if John was actually giggling instead of sobbing there (which is what I think he was doing, personally... but it still sounded like he was writing something about Paul? 🤷‍♀️ idk, doesn't need to be crying for it to still be a bit of an eyebrow raiser, imo)

I haven't actually really looked into any rpf yet, just digesting the "canon" material and whatnot (listening chronologically to their discography and not completely finished with that yet, up to halfway through the White album rn). Been watching their movies and behind the scenes stuff and documentaries (the Get Back one by Peter Jackson was fascinating even for a relatively new fan to watch, imo), reading a bigass biography about them (Tune In by Mark Lewisohn, it's like this great slowburn real-time mosey through the band's childhoods and earliest days together), and watching the occasional YouTube video deep dives (this one series in particular is p beautifully made and impressively researched and really got me in the feels regarding the shippy theories about J&P: [x])

As for my faves of their music, I haven't finished listening to 100% of their albums yet, BUT right now I'm actually very partial to some of their earliest records. I feel like some of their more normie stuff from the early 60s is actually the most fantastic fun to listen to, and Please Please Me and A Hard Day's Night might be the two albums with the most bangers that I never want to skip so far. Their more experimental and psychedelic and surreal later stuff is also interesting and arguably more unique and groundbreaking or creative or whatever, but I'm not as familiar with them outside of the main extremely famous tracks on them yet, and I'll need to finish listening and let them grow on me a bit before I can probably say for sure. However I think so far my faves from their later stuff would probs be Magical Mystery Tour, Abbey Road, and possibly the White Album (once I actually finish listening to it).

John is definitely my favourite Beatle, which was actually a complete surprise to me, I thought he'd be my least fave. And there are so many good bops that it's hard to narrow it down, but some of my personal faves so far are I Saw Her Standing There, I Should Have Known Better, I Want to Hold Your Hand, It Won't be Long, A Hard Day's Night, Do You Want to Know a Secret, Oh! Darling, I Want You (She's So Heavy) and If I Fell... hmm, I think maybe I'm just kinda a sucker for their simple and enthusiastic and joyful love songs the most, usually?

Thank you for sending me this sweet ask! I'd love to hear what some of your faves are too 🧡

[eff4freddie]

First of all, thank you so so much for not taking my ask in a rude way or anything. I was really worried that I was going to offend you or make you mad! But I definitely did not mean it in any negative way. I just really really love Teach and Joel so so much, this story was so amazing. One of the best Joel stories I’ve even read tbh. And I just felt like there was something missing with them in that last chapter. It felt like after everything, they deserved more closure.

Thank you thank you thank you for writing and posting an epilogue. I’m so glad you were already thinking about it too. It was absolutely perfect and I absolutely loved it. This truly did feel like a good ending (for now… hahaha!) for them. It feels good and hopeful and it made me smile to finally see them being honest with each other. Finally see Joel opening up and being honest! I think maybe that’s what’s been missing. Seeing Joel finally tell Teach all of that. So often he told her he cares but it always ended in hurt because of Shauna. And this time there was no hurt. Just honesty and openness and love and the feeling that things will finally be right and good between them. That was just absolutely perfect!

Thank you so much, I love it and I love you and I really appreciate you! It’s been wonderful to go on Joel and Teachs journey with you and I’m excited to see what comes next from you :) much much love to you! 💕

Lovely anon I completely understood what you meant and I valued your kind and considered feedback. I think I was actually feeling a bit the same, and what you said coupled with the fact I was already thinking about more for them made me see they didn’t have the closure they deserved.

So, thank YOU. For your support of the story and your love of Teach and this Joel. I’m so glad you’re happy with this ending. ❤️❤️

[rebelrayne]

Hi, I'd like to request something if that's okay. Which litg athletes do you see competing in olympics this year or maybe next four years? And which ones do you NOT see competing? I hate sports but I have a weakness for athletes, especially certain litg ones.

I can see Levi doing it this year, maybe Jamal (my baby daddy) this or next one. And I think Dylan and Arlo would be too cancelled to participate. What do you think?

Hi Anon! I'm not sure I'm the best person to answer this but I'll give it my best shot! I am not well-versed in sports so hahaha I kind of got a little unserious in some parts.

These are the Islanders that I came up with that are athletes (in some form or it is their job): Levi, Reese, Rahim, Henrik, Jakub, Jo, AJ, Tai, Dylan, Arlo, Pete, Jamal, Lewie, Chloe, Hazel, Logan, Jack, Sophie and Jude. Yes, Kat is a club dancer but I wasn't sure if I could count that with Chloe and Hazel, but I guess on a technicality she could be here, too.

Below the cut this is so long haha

Season 1

Levi - Would probably more likely be coaching at this point in his career. He'd be 32 and had made a name for himself, but ultimately stepped down to further himself in coaching. Could also see him being a commentator, too.

Reese - That mf isn't retiring until they say he's not allowed on the team anymore. Sadly, I don't think wrestling is too popular but I could be wrong. Like he'd pitch a fit and claim they were just against him or something. He'd be there (unfortunately for us).

Season 2

Rahim - Might be out of his prime now. I mean, we know he's good at what he does and all, but this is a pretty competitive sport and when newbies come in, they tend to take it by storm for a while. He's probably just playing the circuit.

Henrik - Yeah, he was a climbing instructor but there's sport climbing. I don't see him doing the Olympics though. He's pretty down to earth, probably not interested in making it his job in this way. He'd rather spread knowledge and love of climbing to others through teaching.

Jakub - lmao as if this big-headed buffoon would miss out on weightlifting or something. Like he's too stupid to be cut from the team anyway. Send him an email and he still flies to the Olympics because he can't read idk

Jo - She would qualify under Cycling BMX Racing and I think she would have done it before. I'm not sure if I'd believe that she's at this one though. She's older, probably settled down or at least doing something related and not racing as seriously anymore?

Season 3

AJ - Definitely there. Loves competition, a great team player. She's 100% playing Field Hockey at the Olympics and I love that for her.

Tai - So technically I think Tai is a rugby coach not a player? Maybe I'm not remembering that though. I think he would be more likely a coach than a player for this Olympics though personally. He has the personality to be tough but also inspirational.

Season 4

Dylan - Definitely did not make the roster after his S4 mishaps. They were so embarrassed that they ghosted him. Left him on read when he asked about how to put in an expense report to get money back for his flight and whatever because no one contacted him about flying with the team. His teammates all blocked him on social media except one, and they didn't only so they could see his profile and laugh about what a loser he is :)

Season 5

Arlo - I mean, I don't know if she got canceled sadly. She was doing what everyone on Love Island does and I can't really blame her. I think she was probably given the opportunity to try out for the team, but that doesn't exactly mean she made it. She was Semi Pro, which means she wasn't the best out there anyway.

Pete - Tried out to be on the sport climbing team, fell on his ass and still has a bruise on his tailbone eight months later. BYE.

Season 6

Jamal - Please, they probably invited him personally to be on the team. He's got such a great energy and he's funny. He'll be there for sure and is definitely medaling.

Lewie - I mean this is a big sport. Did he try out? Sure. Did he make it? Maybe. Football is a massive sport and you're going up against the best in the entire league. I'm going to stick him in the maybe but probably not.

Season 8

Logan - Does anyone even remember this guy? I mean, like, I picked him at the last recoupling and I still forget his ass exists. That's probably what happened if I'm honest. He tried out, the coaches forgot that he had and he never got a call. Aw, poor Logan. Maybe he should try being more memorable next time.

Jack - Oh, he tried. He tried and failed. They laughed and were like, no this is serious not just a hobby. But they invited him to be a Physio for the team so all in all, a win for Jack. (He fangirls over the cyclists when he sees them).

Sophie - I think she tried out and as annoying as she was, she may have made the cut for Acrobatic Gymnastics (is that a thing still? idk). Kinda hope she sprains her ankle as she walks up to the mat or whatever, but I'm kind of a terrible person so.

Season 9

Hamish - yes. If being annoying and obnoxious was a sport. I love him, but he would win the gold. No competition. Though he does play golf now......damn, is there anything he can't do????

Jude - Okay yeah he would be there but the last time it was held was 2021 so I guess it would be next year if it was every 4? Not sure on this but there is a Motor Sports category. You go, Jude! Even though you're kind of a dick and weirdly obsessed with Kat in my game.