#(not all of them because you can only take out 10 at a time)

[randombush3]

the winner takes it all

alexia putellas x reader

summary: an unexpected invitation throws your world off-kilter

words: 6276

content warnings: it's a bit unfaithful

notes: in this universe real madrid is a proper opponent and rival to barcelona, in the sense that funding and history is relatively equal (so it's basically more like the men's rivalry)

idk where this came from tbh

Amb gran alegria, 

Alexia i Olga

T’invitem a celebrar la nostra unió matrimonial. 

10 d’agost de 2025

Gran Hotel Mas d’en Bruno

You haven’t read Catalan in years. You squint at the details. 

You wish you had forgotten it. 

Only Alexia would do this to you, twisting the knife as though it’s a favour, a compliment. Make it seem psychotic for not wanting to go, make it seem like it’s not a big deal. 

The invitation isn’t personalised. You are not special in her eyes. You have been allowed onto the guest list, you have no mark in her life. Surely Olga would have objected if she’d known, if she’d been told. Maybe Alexia doesn’t talk about it. Maybe she has heard your name on match reports and team sheets, announcements for captaincy, interviews with Las 16 who called you traidora then and call you traidora now. 

As if she knew it was coming, your phone begins to light up with messages from Alba. Apologies, perhaps, in her own Alba way. Stuff like ‘are you coming’ and ‘you don’t have to’ and then more buzzing, vibrating the shitstorm into a phone call. 

You don’t speak often. Why would you? But you answer it, listless, really, and unsure what the correct approach to this even is. 

“Hola, traidorita,” she says with a nervous giggle, reclaiming your nickname in Barcelona but reminding you of how you are perceived nevertheless. “I don’t know why you are on the guest list.” 

Alba is like this: straight to the point, unafraid of her sister and unafraid to tell you what she thinks. They are very different, which is why she is the only one who has your current number in her contacts. 

“You told her where I live,” you respond. Your shock makes no room for manners. “Because no one there has my Madrid address, Albi.” 

“No one here has it, yeah. But she asked around. Well, Olga did.” She laughs again. Her nervousness is high-pitched and easily detected. “Told Ale that she has to have her childhood best friend at her wedding.” 

“Childhood best friend?” 

“Estranged childhood best friend?” she tries, and you can hear the smile and the teasing fucking smugness in it. You wonder if anyone else knows you have been invited. Alba because your address was squeezed out of her, sure, but… “And my mother thought it was a good idea too, before you try to murder a woman you have never met.” 

“I’ve met Olga before,” you say without thinking, because that’s far easier to focus on than the idea of Eli getting involved in this completely undesired reunion that is about two centuries too early. “When I was going out with, eh, I don’t remember her name. A model. You know what they’re like. Olga’s the one who works for… thingie.” 

There’s a sigh from the other end. “So many models yet not one name has been retained. Do you even ask them?” 

“We’re not usually doing much talking.” 

“Zorra.”

“Coming from you…” You smirk at the thought of all the little secrets Alba’s had you keep, a tradition that started young and became increasingly frequent when you removed yourself from everyone else’s lives. It’s like a journal, only you judge her. “You’re doing a good job of distracting me until I agree to go.” 

She hesitates, then. You’re not an idiot and you know why she called. Alba is supportive but she has her own agenda most of the time, and no one else knows the exact time you get back from training aside from your fellow teammates. Even then, most are too intimidated to contact you in general, let alone to ask about being invited to Alexia Putellas’ fucking wedding. 

Alba is also very manipulative, a professional puppeteer. And she knows exactly what to say. “It’s been fifteen years. Are you going to let her win?” It’s an infuriating provocation but it hits its target with ease. 

…

The first step of preparing for this wedding takes place in the form of the Euros: you’re going to win it and be happy enough to ignore the impending doom hanging over your off-season plans. Going into the competition with heavy medals round your necks makes cockiness the slippiest of slopes, and it is safe to say that most of your teammates are prepared to cruise through at least the group stages. 

An unexpected injury rips Jenni’s opportunity to play from her grasp (an echo of her ex-girlfriend, you briefly think), and she is flying back to Mexico before the tournament begins. Montse is a captain down – of course only this kind of disaster could happen to her – and before Patri can even open her mouth to volunteer for the role, you are dragged into a leadership meeting.

You’ve worn the armband before, though it seared and burned and blistered until you threw it in Jorge’s face and demanded someone else absorb the hatred it brought. He went ballistic as you’d said it, you remember, his face going red in the soft glow of your hotel room the night before the World Cup final. He’d leaned forwards, fist clenched, knuckles white and wanting to choke the life out of you.

“You have no respect!” he’d roared, voice splitting like thunder against the thin walls of your hotel room. “Not for me, not for your country, not for anything!” His breath was coming out in sharp ragged gasps. He spat. You’d wiped it off your body. “I thought you had scraped all the Catalan out of you, but here it is!” he’d screamed, loud enough to be heard but so comfortable in his power that it did not seem to frighten him. “Selfish and arrogant. You should have made it Seventeen.” 

He’d left in his rage, slamming his door. 

You regretted smiling in pictures with him, shaking his hand, kissing his cheek. You regretted the press conferences and interviews, the shaky defence you had constructed, the words of faith and trust you had professed and tried to believe. It had changed you, just a little bit, that incident. Made you think about who you are, where you come from. Made you remember someone you’d tried to forget. 

But Irene and Alexia, staring at you with both contempt and confusion as you take a seat at the conference table, don’t know any of this. Why would they? To them, this is the traidora. 

“Y/n is going to take Jenni’s place as third captain,” says Montse firmly, if she even knows how to do that. Irene and Alexia share a glance. Their roles have been restored for this competition and they are not prepared for an intruder to take that from them, although Irene will later remind Alexia that it is not your fault Jenni got injured. “I trust you three will come up with a suitable management plan. If you need me, you know where to find me.” 

None of you really do know where she lurks, but she is walking off before you can clarify. 

“We already have a strategy.” And she says it in Catalan, looking falsely apologetic when she is kicked underneath the table. 

“Good job, Alexia,” you tell her, so nauseatingly saccharine that you almost think of the nearest route to a toilet. She’s surprised you’ve granted her a reply though, which is satisfying enough. About to spit out another remark to divide yourselves further, you shift in your chair, stretching out your legs underneath the table. 

It is then that her ring catches your eye.

It’s delicate, shiny. A neatly cut diamond set in platinum with slight details that tell you someone thought about Alexia when they had this made and got it all wrong. Or maybe this is what she likes now. It’s not what you’d have given her.

She sees your eyes fall to her fingers, watching carefully as your gaze heats the metal and makes it almost too hot for her to keep on. You don’t really want her to know that you’ve seen it but you��ve made it bleeding obvious and so the predicament spirals and Irene wants, desperately, to leave you two alone – she knows shouldn’t, she’s aware of the health and safety risk. 

There is something about the way Alexia clenches her jaw, posture stiffening as she allows herself one flicker from your face to the ring, that tells you she is bracing herself for a bullet. She always did have an uncanny ability to read you, however unwanted it was. 

You lean back in your chair, aware of how the bystander is holding her breath, and decide to swallow the words burning on your tongue. You’ve accepted her invitation, and bitter manners are still manners. “Congratulations,” you say, words clipped and brittle, each syllable more venomous than the last. 

The chair makes a screeching sound as you stand. Irene flinches but Alexia does not move. She refuses to watch as you walk out of the room. 

…

Three hours later, Alexia is off the phone with Olga and knocking on Irene’s door with an embarrassed suppression of urgency. Shoulders hunched and lips downturned, the sight is enough for her to be ushered inside with only the quiet flap of Irene’s arms to beckon her forwards. With this part of the training camp being not quite tunnel-vision yet, Irene’s room is littered with toys and toddler stuff. Usually Alexia would be looking at them in quiet excitement. Right now, she is not so sure. 

“Second thoughts?” Irene asks, and Alexia half-jumps backwards in shock, about to furiously shake her head and profess her love for Olga– “I think the plan is good. I don’t think we need to worry about Y/n in the centre, seeing how she’s been playing there this season.” 

It slowly dawns on Alexia that Irene has assumed this is pre-tournament nerves, and that she is being shown such a vulnerable side of her co-captain because, well, who else can be? No one wants to see their commander gulp at the sight of the battlefield. 

“She still favours her left,” Alexia gets out. “She might drift, leaving a big gap for you to cover.” 

“She’s got offers from PSG, Chelsea, and Washington Spirit. It’s in her interest not to drift.” 

“She’s good at drifting.” 

Irene doesn’t respond to that. 

“Since when did you wear your ring to training?” is what she chooses to say instead, asking the question with a healthy fear of getting her head bitten off, taking a small step backwards to put her at a safer distance. 

Alexia doesn’t reply immediately, her fingers grazing the ring as she thinks. The weight of it seems heavier now, almost suffocating in the sterile air of the hotel room, as though this is everything she’s been trying to avoid. Her heart thuds against her ribcage. It feels like everyone is starting to notice. 

“I didn’t think it was an issue.” Her voice is tight, defensive, but with a subtle, betraying crack. She pulls her hand back from the air, letting it fall to her side. “We hardly did much more than pass the ball today so I kept it on.” 

It’s a poor excuse. It comes off for the cameras, not the contact of the game. Irene knows that. But, to her credit, she doesn’t push. She just watches Alexia, eyes narrowed slightly in an unreadable expression. “I just thought you guys were keeping it a bit more… private.” 

Alexia turns her gaze to the floor, staring at the scattered toys and items around the room. The simplicity of it all, the domestic innocence, makes her feel even more tangled. She feels an urge to lie, to say that Olga asked her to, worried that you’d misinterpret its absence, but Olga doesn’t even know she has reason to lose sleep. She hasn’t found the courage to explain. She hasn’t felt the need to. 

And, really, the truth is right here, echoing between them. Irene would have pieced together the story, as many of Alexia’s teammates have, hearing drunken retellings on nights out from whoever has known the two of you the longest that time. Maybe Alba has spoken to her, revealing everything after a round of tequila shots, as she tends to do. There are a few suggestions the older woman could make to her teammate, wounds she could open and then nurse, but she doesn’t and so she waits. 

Until, finally, Alexia admits, “it’s complicated. She has caught me off-guard.” It could mean many things, but it is either your captaincy or the acceptance of her wedding invitation that has done Alexia in. She wonders whether this feeling of dread and uncertainty is the game – or the life waiting for her after she comes back from Switzerland. “Look,” she says abruptly, “I’m not here for advice, Irene.”

“Then why are you in my room?” She doesn’t have an answer for that. Irene sweeps her outside, gently but firmly. “I’m not going to tell you what to do,” she treads lightly, “but when was the last time you had a conversation with her?” 

…

The training pitch in Switzerland is unseasonably hot, the kind of heat that clings to the air and makes tempers run shorter than usual. It’s almost a cure to homesickness but then the team look at each other and are back to hating every minute of this. There’s an undeniable divide. Montse either does not care or has not caught on. 

It’s about your twentieth rondo this session, the ball zipping across the wilting grass as it touches Barça foot to Barça foot, the girls obviously enjoying this. You’re only holding back because too much investment will lead to another injury, and you are getting somewhat tired of being called a traitor. The players surround you with a ruthless efficiency that is starting to fray your nerves, and you make a note to talk to your coach about training, knowing that it will be easy to manipulate her into following something akin to what the girls at Madrid are more accustomed to. 

Alexia is one of your taunters. Of course she is. 

“Just three more interceptions,” she calls out, false strain, false support, false encouragement. 

You bite back a retort, instead standing still as Aitana rolls a ball right past you. You wipe the sweat from your brow, feigning exhaustion, but the pretense is only that in name. Everyone knows you are one of the best defenders, the Barça girls especially, with their insane pride for La Masia. 

“Lazy,” Alexia mutters. 

You don’t respond, focusing instead on the fire in your chest as you forcibly break the circle and march towards Montse. She looks up from her clipboard as you approach. 

“We should split training.” She pauses and then nods. “Attack and defence, at least. And don’t let the press hear this, but, my god, Montse, I do not like how they’re all back.” 

“We’re a stronger team,” she says, but she’s smiling and you are definitely her favourite. Another deep breath and she is calling a water break. 

The girls retreat to the sidelines for ice and hydration, and you reunite with the people you like. Your club teammates prefer you at national camp, because there is something less reclusive about you. It’s as though you’re trying to prove that you get on. 

Olga hands you a water bottle, the contents of which you guzzle down in one go. She begins to comment on the absurdity of Alexia’s mandated rondos (“why do they have to keep reminding themselves how to pass a ball?”) and while you agree, your attention is diverted. Alexia is standing a few meters away with Mariona Caldentey. She’s listening to something the forward is telling her, face focused, finger twisting her ring around in circles. 

That fucking ring. 

You look away before you are caught in such a compromising position, wiping your forehead with your damp training shirt. 

“Oye,” Misa’s voice pulls you back, “are you paying attention?” You’re not even sure when she joined the conversation. Your relationship with the goalkeeper has always been overly complicated. You work very closely, what with you commanding the backline and her… also commanding the backline. But she’s friends with people who must have at least once wished you dead, so it’s hard to tell where you stand. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” you lie, screwing the cap back onto the water bottle and placing it in Olga’s held-out palm. 

“You’re never this spacey. You’ve been off since the meeting,” she presses, her voice gentle but insistent. “If this is about the captaincy–” 

“It’s not,” you snap, harsher than what was meant. Her eyes widen slightly and you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “Sorry. It’s not about that. I’m fine.” 

Misa doesn’t look convinced but she nods, letting it drop. Gratitude relaxes your shoulders but the uneasy silence that follows is punishing enough for you to be eager for training to resume. 

Now that the rondos have been left behind until tomorrow, you divide into teams for a scrimmage. The squad is split into four and you throw yourself into the exercise. Every touch, every pass, every run is perfect, and you are unrecognisable from your lackadaisical lull only ten minutes ago. You’re pushing your body and it flicks onto autopilot, driven by muscle memory and determination. 

Your head’s not in it. You can’t outrun her shadow. You can’t think when your teams are against each other. 

The ring must have come off now, and she is getting stuck in. She’s relentless and irritating, evading your teammates’ tackles and drawing you into her. It’s almost transportative: back you go to gardens after school or being barefoot on the beach, forced out of your relaxation and into an endless game of ‘tackle me like you mean it’. She has that same glint in her eye, that same goading gleam. You consider it, but crutches at a wedding is a low blow. 

And so you lay off. Just on her, and only just enough so that she knows you are not trying. You do not care for petty squabbles. You are not willing to go back to those memories, to that time. 

Or at least, that’s the message you hope she gets. 

The games slowly wind down, prompted by Montse’s whistle to signal the end of the session. You stay on the pitch longer than anyone else, taking you time to collect the stray balls scattered across the grass. It’s partly an excuse to delay walking into the locker room, where the tension will be thick (you were not the right choice for third captain in the eyes of your teammates), and partly because you need a moment to breathe. 

The others slowly disperse, peeling off to the showers or collapsing onto benches. Alexia lingers longer than most, wiping away her sweat with her shirt, abs exposed and tensed. She watches you as you move across the pitch, and though her gaze is subtle, you can feel it blazing hotter than the sun lashing down on you. But, despite her staring, she too is eventually coaxed away. You’re unsure whether she is thankful for the interruption. 

When you finally make your way to the changing rooms, most of your teammates are in the showers, and the sound of running water mingled with laughter echoes. You take a seat at the locker you were assigned and let out a slow breath, peeling off sweat-soaked socks with mild disgust. You turn to fling them into your laundry bag, but their flight path is blocked by a blonde who has clearly delayed her own shower to talk to you. 

She’s looking oddly pensive. You don’t like it. 

“We need to talk.” It’s uncomfortable for Alexia to say and it’s worse for you to hear. You’re not sure you’re okay with her decision to become reasonable and mature. It’s quite the compliment to always be the cause for stoic, rational Alexia Putellas going absolutely batshit crazy. 

Driving her up the wall is fun. 

“I’ll send you an invitation. No need to tell me which room is yours.” You give her a smile. And, like you always do, you walk away. 

…

There’s a charge to the air that is choking you by dinner time. The upgrade to captain allowed for your own room, and it is easy to blow off teammates who want to have plans with you with the simple excuse of needing to talk to your agent. You technically do, since you are going to leave Madrid during the transfer window, but you have no intention of dialling his number until he confirms the best and furthest team wants you. 

You’ve spent the evening avoiding the majority of the players, which Montse took advantage of, encouraging you to spend dinner discussing tactics with her and her staff. You feel like the teacher’s pet. You know how angry it is making Alexia.

Collapsing on the bed when you back into your room, you let out a loud groan, sinking into the mattress. Your phone buzzes on the bedside table and for a moment, you think it might be Alba, allowing you no peace and quiet despite her distance. Instead, it’s a message on the team group chat from the strength and conditioning coach about tomorrow’s gym session. A wave of relief washes over you; anything but her. 

Still, as you scroll, you catch yourself lingering on the names in the group chat, your thumb hovering near Alexia’s. Your stomach tightens and the memory of her tone, her expression, pulls at you like a tether. 

She’s not going to drop this. 

It’s no longer a matter of avoidance in the camp. You’ve said you will be present. She must want to ensure you will not make a scene. 

A knock at the door, so quiet you are almost convinced it was imagined, breaks you out of your brooding. Your eyes watch the wood as though it will be splintered in a moment, but when you make no move to get up, a more insistent knock sounds. You sigh as you pull yourself off your bed, dragging your feet towards the door. Opening it, you find Alexia standing there, arms crossed and wearing an expression you can’t quite decipher. It lacks her usual burning hatred. She looks exhausted. 

You struggle to feel any sympathy. 

“What?” you snap. It’s a bit harsher than intended but you don’t let on that that’s the case. 

“Can I come in?” You guess that she didn’t pick up the hint when you gave her no invitation. You do not want to talk. You don’t do that to people much anymore. 

She expects the door to slam in her face – and you consider it – but it’s your hesitation that tells her she can, and so she slowly moves inside, shoulder brushing yours because you refuse to move out of the way. And then she raises a deliberate hand towards the door, pushing it shut. You ignore the ring. 

You lean against the door once it’s shut, arms folded as she wanders further into your room. She looks out of place somewhere so personal to you, standing awkwardly in the centre and trying not to look at the explosion of clothes and books that has been detonated on the floor. 

She reads the titles of a few – classics that look dense and boring. Something hungry inside her dulls a bit, because you have not changed in this respect. 

“You’re quiet for someone who wants to talk,” you prompt, mostly because the silence is unbearable. 

She doesn’t respond immediately. Her arms drop to her sides, fingers twitching as if unsure what to do with themselves. She tries to meet your eyes, but falters when she sees the cold indifference staring back. You’re looking at her like she’s a stranger. It stings more than it should.

“I didn’t invite you to the wedding,” she says finally. “Olga doesn’t know about us.” 

“There’s no ‘us’,” you snap, sharper this time.

Her jaw tightens and for a second, she looks as though she’s been struck. “Don’t lie.” 

“There is no ‘us’,” you repeat, your tone icy now. “That disappeared the minute I–” 

“Left,” comes her interruption, her voice trembling just enough for you to notice. She steps closer, her shadow crossing yours, and her eyes narrow. “Which was your decision, not mine.”

You scoff, a bitter laugh escaping you. “Don’t act like you didn’t have a say in it.” 

“I didn’t!” she fires back, her voice rising. There is something raw beneath it – something fractured. “You didn’t give me one. You walked out, and you shut me out like I was nothing. Like we were nothing.” 

Her words hang in the air and for a moment, you don’t know whether to shoot or turn away. But her gaze pins you in place, fierce and unrelenting, as though daring you to deny it. 

You hold her stare, your throat tightening. “And you didn’t try to stop me.” 

The silence that follows feels deafening. Neither of you moves. Neither of you blinks. You’re both standing on landmines and have nowhere to go. 

Her jaw clenches, her hands balling into fists at her sides. Her voice, though low, crackles with the heat of restrained anger. 

“You didn’t give me a chance to stop you.” And she steps closer, ready to bite. The door presses against your back as you instinctively move away. “You made up your mind before I even knew what was happening.” 

“Don’t pretend you didn’t see it coming.” You shake your head. “I didn’t just wake up one day and decide to leave, Alexia.”

Her expression darkens, something in her eyes flickering dangerously. “That’s not the point. You didn’t just leave the club. You didn’t just leave me. You left everything. Our family. Our life. Do you have any idea what that felt like? Watching you walk away as if none of it mattered?” 

Your chest tightens but you refuse to let her words land. “You don’t get to make me the villain here.” 

“I don’t have to,” she snaps, her voice rising now, accent thickening with her anger. “You were part of my family, part of me. You were at every Christmas, every birthday. My mother adored you. Alba still loves you like you are her own sister! And you just disappeared like none of it meant anything. Like we didn’t mean anything.”

You flinch at the weight of her words but force yourself into steadiness. “I didn’t belong there. It wasn’t mine, it was yours.” 

Her face twists in disbelief, voice trembling as it rises again. “That’s bullshit and you know it! You were my family. My first everything. My first kiss. My first…” She pauses, her voice cracking. You swallow hard – you don’t want the fucking itemised list. “My first time. You think I just gave that to anyone? You think that it was just fun and games?” 

Your stomach churns as she stokes a fire you’ve tried to smother for years. “It wasn’t nothing,” you agree, although it sounds like you are contradicting her in a way that causes her to falter on her drive forwards. “It was everything. That’s why I left. Because I couldn’t be what was needed anymore. Because I knew if I stayed, I’d only–” 

“Only what?” 

You gulp. 

She’s back in your face, voice laced with venom. “Hurt me? Ruin me? Let us all done? Guess what, you did that anyway. Leaving made it easier? Made it hurt less?” 

“I didn’t know what else to do!” you shout, voice splitting. 

“You stay!” It echoes and it bruises your skin. Her eyes are blazing now, tears threatening to spill but held back by sheer force of will. “You stay, because that is what you do when you love someone. When you love a family. You don’t just walk away from them. You fight.” 

You open your mouth to respond, but the words stick in your throat, caught somewhere between guilt and pride. She sees it and it only seems to enrage her further. 

Her voice drops, anger so torrid she has to purposely cool her tone. “You know, I thought that my world was ending then. I thought you’d done your worst. But I was wrong. Because your betrayal wasn’t just personal, it was… political. To not see someone you love except for when they are sitting at the feet of this. Corruption’s pet. Pandering to an organisation you hated, while the rest of us fought for scraps.” 

Heat rises in your chest. How dare she– “I don’t pander to anyone.” 

“Don’t lie to me,” she spits. She’s too close. She’s too inescapable. And her anger is no longer fiery but icy, piercing through your skin. “I’ve seen the way you act around them, bowing your head and playing the loyal soldier while they tear us apart. You think I didn’t notice how he favoured you? Or how Montse magically replaces an irreplaceable member of–” 

“It’s not like that,” you counter, but the words feel hollow even to you.

“Then what is it?” she demands. “What is it that makes you stand there and let them walk all over us? Let them divide us? And don’t you dare say it is for the good of the team. The team hates you for it. We all do. You’ve earned every bit of it, traidora.” 

The word hits you like a whip, lacerating and making you bleed. Your hands curl into fists so tightly your nails dig into your palms, the sting barely enough to contain the fury surging through you. “Don’t you dare call me that!” The sentence tears out of your throat, rough and jagged. You take a step forwards, the air between you crackling with tension, your voice breaking as you spit, “you don’t get to say that to me. Not you.”

“Why not?” she challenges. “It’s what you are. You left, you betrayed everything we stood for, and then you came back just to make things worse. You made your choices.”

For a moment, all you can do is stare at her, the anger and heartbreak in her eyes, eviscerating and leaving you hollow. But then, something shifts in the air between you, and you find your voice again, souring from before.

“Is that why you’re here, Alexia? To throw all of this in my face? To let out fifteen years of harboured emotion? Or is it something else?” 

Her brow furrows in confusion. Surprise. And then her expression twists into anger. “What the fuck are you talking about?” 

You take a step forward now, and she is forced to retreat. “Do you not want to marry Olga, Alexia? Is that it? Is that why you’re here? Because you think you can come into my room, dredge all of this up, and make me the reason you’re unhappy?” 

Her face pales as she takes a deep breath, hands trembling at her sides. “Don’t,” she warns, firmly enough to signal you need to push.

So you do. 

“You came here because you’re scared.” She shakes her head but it’s rigid and forced. “Because you’re not sure you can go through with it and you want me to give you a reason to back out. Well, I’m not going to do that for you. This isn’t my mess. It’s yours.”

She says nothing and you feel sick. Her chest rises and falls with each gasping breath. She opens her mouth but again, you are left with silence, and the expression in her eyes flickers between defiance, confusion, and vulnerability. For a long moment, it feels like everything that could be said has been. 

The air between you is charged, but neither of you know which way it will go. 

You stare at her watching her waver. And it hits you: she doesn’t know what to do. 

All of this, all the anger and the pain, all the accusations and betrayals, has led her here, to this moment. She thought she had an answer, she thought she would be able to end this, but now? Now, Alexia is lost. There is too much here, too much to lose. And for the first time in a long while, you are feeling the same thing. You are both no longer sure if you want to fight. 

She takes a hesitant step closer and you freeze. But then, just as quickly, her hand moves – not to strike, not to harm, but to touch you. Her fingers brush lightly over the fabric of your sleeve, almost tenderly, before they fall away, and you don’t know if the motion was meant for comfort or something else.

Her breath is ragged, coming in slow, uneven gasps. Her eyes never leave yours. You don’t want them to. 

“I don’t know what to do with all of this,” she murmurs, the rawness in her tone shattering any remaining wall between you. “I don’t know what to do with you.”

How do you respond to that? You want her to leave but the thought is unbearable. You want space but she is not close enough. Something inside you stirs, something you can’t fight; a need to understand her and make her understand you. To make her see how tangled this, how impossible it has always been. 

Before you can form the word, before you can even think, she moves in closer, and there is no longer distance. She doesn’t ask for permission. She doesn’t hesitate. And then, without warning, her lips are on yours. 

It’s soft, tentative at first, as though testing the waters of something neither of you is sure of anymore. But then it shifts. Her body leans into yours, and the kiss deepens, more urgent now, as if this is everything that has not been said and has been at the same time. Your heart races, a million conflicting emotions crashing through you. Anger, betrayal, love ��� it is all here, you can taste it on her lips. It’s fierce, desperate, and it feels like an endless cycle of need and regret, pulling you both back to something raw, something irretrievable. 

Her hands find your waist, gripping tightly as though anchoring herself to something that could pull her under. You instinctively respond, pulling her closer, drawing in the heat of her touch, the scent of her skin, the pressure of her body against yours. For a fleeting second, everything else fades away. There’s no past, no future, only here and now. 

And then the fog clears. 

You pull back, breathless and worse off. You’ve fucked up again. Alexia is crying. 

“I’m not the person you think I am anymore,” you say, but it’s hard to meet her gaze. “I can’t be that person for you.”

Her eyes search yours desperately for lies, for deceit. She wants it to be wrong. She doesn’t know why. And she replies, “I don’t care what you think you’ve become,” because she doesn’t. It doesn’t matter to her.

You stare at her, heart pounding, and you want to feel like this will be worth it, but nothing comes except cold emptiness. You force yourself to stay upright. “I think the wedding will be good.” She swallows. “You’ll be happy with Olga. I’m sure of it.” 

It’s a death sentence. 

This time, it is Alexia who leaves. 

…

The wedding is beautiful. Blissful sunlight makes the venue seem to glow and it is hard not to be impressed with how they have set this up. 

The model at your side is also beautiful, but you remind yourself it is not a competition. You focus on the whispers of anticipation from the guests, the rustle of the dresses as people pass in merry groups, clinking their glasses and finishing their champagne as they take their seats. Everything looks perfect, plucked from magazines and tasteful brochures. This must be what Alexia wanted. 

Your date is occupying herself in conversation with the man seated next to you, who might be hitting on her, though you don’t care. She slides a hand over your thigh anyway. 

The ceremony begins, although you’re not really concentrating on it. You try to focus, listening as the officiant speaks, but the words have become a dull hum. It’s all so rehearsed, so expected, and it’s boring. You won’t be getting married anytime soon, that’s for sure. 

You know the flow of these things: the vows, the promises, the kiss, and the crowd’s applause. It’s a performance, though it’s not quite a farce. 

And then, it comes. The moment. The one that feels like a trap. 

The officiant pauses, glancing out over the gathering. “Si algú s'hi oposa, que parli ara o calli per sempre.”

For a heartbeat, time slows. The air thickens. Every muscle in your body tenses and the world around you goes still. You catch yourself holding your breath, gaze instinctively shifting to the woman standing at the front of the altar. 

Alexia. 

Her eyes flicker briefly in your direction – just a flicker, but it’s there, unmistakable. It’s her moment of hesitation, well masked but clear as day to you. But before you can make sense of it, she’s looking away, eyes fixed back onto Olga. Her expression hardens, more composed now, and you know that you are not going to break this silence. 

The officiant, oblivious to the storm passing between you both, waits for a beat longer before continuing, his voice echoing in the silence. 

And she’s married. 

You breathe out a sigh of relief. It’s over now. You’ve let her win. 

[funthingsosakafound]

The issue with microfluidics is they deliberately don't include a cleaning cycle so they clog when you don't use them for a few weeks -- which is exactly what printing companies want, because it means your memory of their usefulness is far back enough.

If only there were some sort of self-cleaning microfluidic printer.

Oh wait, that's every printer, you just don't get told this!

The companies bet on you not being smart enough or invested enough and they make their official gear really unreliable on purpose and don't tell you the procedures to fix it.

Most of the headache is up front and short lived and once the ball is rolling its very mindless "clean the cartridge, then put the cartridge in the doohicky after filling it then put it in the printer and its fine for like a month".

30 minutes once a month is all it takes.

Something manufacturers don't tell you is that you're meant to do is self-clean them over and over and over again (10-20+ times)

Alternatively, you can use 10/20 drops of isopropyl alcohol and let the print head sit in it, and then let it air dry and repeat this that number of times to clean without using any ink.

Same as a 3D printer, there is a proper print-cycle for 2D printers, and that cycle includes upkeep (same as you'd clean the bed or calibrate or remaster the motors in a 3D).

There are kits which are literally for this very thing.

No I don't get any kickback from this, and you can do this just as well with improvised materials around your home.

Epson and other sellers deliberately don't tell you any of this stuff, because they want you to get mad and throw out your device. Its an anticonsumer practice and some basic knowledge can save you this headache.

Likewise, you can buy generic refillable cartridges.

Behold, the forbidden cartridge:

Sometimes, you have to take the chip and ribbon from a used cartridge and use a chip resetter which looks like this: the forbidden "you're fine actually shut up and print" unit.

ebay and inkjetmail and many other retailers are phenomenal sources for these devices and new replacement ink.

Non-genuine dye inks perform far better than pigment ones. Dye inks are like tea and pigments are like coffee. Try to go for a printer which uses a dye based ink, rather than a pigment based ink for best results.

What the world really needs is a printer which can do this automatically from an iso resevoir, or ask for iso when its needed and then self-drain and dry it safely.

You know. The way industrial printers do?

Ask /r/printers if you want something specific. As crappy as Reddit can be, they are a genuinely great community with a lot of knowledge.

You can completely bypass the ink racket and buy generic which will completely crash the cost of your printer ink so you can spend it on something nicer like glossy photo paper for your prints, or sticker paper.

All it takes is a little bit of specialist knowledge, and if you're printing on a large scale with an inkjet some equipment on standby that's a big cost-saving and a procedure-list.

Source:

I have a TBI and covering my walls in prints to prompt me with things massively helps. The day AR is good enough I'll switch but until then, paper it is!

i feel like it says something about us as a species that somebody worked real hard to invent 3D printing when i think anyone who has ever used a printer would agree with me that we have not really gotten our arms around 2D printing yet. we’re getting ahead of ourselves.

[cripplecharacters]

Writing Profoundly Intellectually Disabled Characters

[Plain Text: Writing Profoundly Intellectually Disabled Characters]

While there is a glaring lack of intellectually disabled characters - except maybe big, physically strong, white men who can’t “tell right from wrong” or have a personality - in all sorts of media, specifically profoundly intellectually disabled characters are next to non-existent, with the existing ones being used more often as plot devices rather than portrayed as human beings.

This does make a degree (and not more) of sense considering that 85% of ID people have it mild, 10% moderate, 3.5% severe and only 1.5% has profound ID, the larger group inevitably gets more representation (which doesn’t make it good, but it does exist). However, it hopefully doesn’t need explaining that minorities deserve to be represented too (...and represented well), so this is what this post will be about.

Please don’t treat this as your only source on writing a character like this (even though I’m willing to bet it’s the only one like this, at least on tumblr), do your research and always check other sources.

Also, for clarity: intellectual disability isn't an umberalla term for "mental/brain disability". It's a specific, singular diagnosis that used to be known as "mental [r slur]". It's not the same as brain damage, autism, dementia, dyslexia, and anything else that's not specifically "intellectual disability". It's something that you are either born with or acquire early in life.

How do I Include Them in the Story?

[Plain Text: How do I include them in the story?]

A profoundly ID person will spend the majority of their time either at home or in some sort of care facility since they will require 24/7 help. The easiest role to put them in is probably a family member of another character. I've mentioned on this blog before that the "ID characters always end up as the annoying younger sibling" thing is overdone, but none of these necessarily have to be true for this suggestion to work (especially not the "annoying" part).

A non-ID character could have an intellectually disabled older sibling, twin, cousin, uncle/aunt, the sibling of a grandparent, etc. Seriously - a severely disabled person can be an adult, or even an elder. Just not as a parent, since a profoundly disabled person can't consent (a lot of ID people very much can, but this is the one disability where your level of functioning is baked into the exact diagnosis - profound ID comes with the inability to consent/understand the consequences enough to consent).

"They're a family member" is basically the easiest "excuse" to include a profoundly intellectually disabled in a story (and, as a bonus, you don't have to figure out how the other character would react to meeting them for the first time, since they probably knew each other for a long time already).

If your story isn't about the profoundly disabled character and instead just features them as a character, it would be much easier to not make the other character their primary caregiver. It's simply a ton of work and the character wouldn't have time for fighting dragons and whatnot - it'd be easier to have the abled character spend time with the disabled character at home (or care facility; you can very much visit someone in one) hanging out rather than actually doing the caregiving part.

Outside of a home and a care facility, there are also day care programs that some people might attend. This is the rarest solution out of the three mainly because of financial reasons, but also these resources aren’t as common for people who can’t walk, learn self-care, etc. Going to one takes time (the profoundly disabled person isn’t gonna walk there by themselves) and probably requires a specialized van (that you can bring a wheelchair in, which is incredibly expensive). Most day care programs are focused on people who are moderately or severely ID at most. One made for profoundly ID people would require 1:1 aides, which generally means the programs are much smaller for logistical reasons, but also even more expensive. For most people, too expensive without funding. Basically, this is an option, but you have to consider your character’s financial situation and/or what kind of financial support do disabled people get where they live.

Another way is having the disabled character in some sort of high position - in real life there were quite a few cases of profoundly and severely intellectually disabled royalty. Depending on the place and time there might have been pressure to not let the public see them, but this wasn't always the case. The biggest example of the latter was probably Emperor An of Jin (the first Jin, Eastern one) who was, as his title suggests, crowned at some point. He didn’t actually rule (his uncle did) but yes, you can have a severely disabled person as the head of a monarchy, it’s not without precedent.

In fiction you can do whatever you want anyway when it comes to ableism, you can have it be there, or you can have it not be there - and if it does exist then there are still different kinds of ableism you can portray that aren't the "literally killing-the-disabled-baby/hiding-them-in-some-dungeon level of eugenics" kind. Maybe a rich family who cares about their image would actually be unable to shut up about their kid to show how "saint-like" they are for caring for the disabled - it is unfortunately realistic, and can be a potential way to have the character exist in public, not ignore ableism, and also not go the aforementioned literally-just-murder route that writers usually do to show an ableist family.

Characterization

[Plain Text: Characterization]

Warning; the bar here is somewhere in the Earth's inner core. If your character has a single characteristic beyond aggressive/loud/unmanageable*, they're automatically at the top of most complex fictional representation of severely/profoundly ID characters. Congrats.

* - Some people are those things but, unsurprisingly, they're other things too. A lot of profoundly ID people can actually be completely quiet - you notice people who are loud because they're loud.

As with literally every character, you need to figure out what they like and not like. This can be quite literally anything, but try to think of the basic stuff. Do they have something they really enjoy eating (and conversely - something they refuse to eat)? Do they have some sort of comfort toy or object they don't want anyone touching (and maybe showing them playing with it with a different character could be a way to show how much they trust them)? In more modern settings, do they have a favorite show they always bug everyone to put on? Are they really clingy or do they hate physical contact (again, maybe they only enjoy it from a specific character)?

Another characterization could be comfort objects. A lot of profoundly ID people are autistic (which I'll touch on later) and will have an object that they bring everywhere the same way that non-ID autistic people might. There's nothing really specific here, just another layer of "this character is a Person". Maybe they have a blanket they really enjoy chewing because the texture feels good or some sort of plushie they like to throw around because it makes a sound they find funny. Lots of options. Maybe they have a personal “tell” to let others know they want their comfort object brought to them.

Keep in mind, you have to show this all in non-verbal manner. A profoundly ID person is probably not using any sort of AAC device (the most robust one I remember seeing right now was a low-tech one with "yes" and "no", but there are probably ones who operate on a larger amount of singular words). This is basically another opportunity for characterization - what do they do when they're happy - laugh, flap their arms, make sounds? - and when they're upset - scream, hit themselves, make different sounds? Obviously, you'd have to take other disabilities into account (e.g. many profoundly ID people won't move much, some might not be able to make much audible sound, etc.) but almost anything helps.

This brings us to…

Communication

[Plain Text: Communication]

An important thing (concept?) I'll throw here is "total communication", which can mean different things in different contexts, but here I'll use it to mean "using everything you can to communicate with someone who cannot do so in a ‘traditional’ way".

Communication can be categorized as having two sides; expressive and receptive. For most intellectually disabled people in general, receptive skills tend to be significantly higher than expressive ones, though there are specific disorders where it’s reversed or equal. As mentioned before, most profoundly ID people won’t speak orally, won’t use sign language, and won’t use AAC (though out of all three, AAC is the most likely one). Some might say single words, but that’s about it. It’s not a “physically mute but can write perfectly grammatically correct sentences” situation, it’s more of a “[single noun]” one, if anything. Receptive skills however are pretty decent (in comparison) and they would probably understand their name, the name/title of their carer(s), names of things they see every day, events they have some frame of reference to (e.g. if they grew up Christian, they would probably know what Christmas is), etc. Your other characters could (and should) talk to them like they can understand, even if they don’t catch everything or even most of it. I say a lot of “probably” there, but the people who can’t do so usually have other comorbidities, which I’ll mention later.

To go back to expressive communication, eye pointing can be used to figure out what the character wants. A change in breathing can be used to tell that a character got stressed. Throwing an object can be used as a hint that the character wants to play. Maybe them reaching towards person A means they want to eat, but reaching towards person B means they want them to sing a song for them. Maybe them making a particular face means they just had a seizure and need to be comforted. Whatever their "tells" like this might be, other characters who know them would probably be able to tell more-or-less what's going on - you don't have to go really in-depth, especially if it's a minor character, but figuring out the ways your character communicates with others will make it feel more like a person and not a Disabled Lamp (“if you can replace a disabled character with a lamp or a sick dog, they’re not a character”).

If you read some of these and go "that's a thing that a child would do" then you're not necessarily wrong. A profoundly ID adult might enjoy activities that primarily kids partake in. This is, I can't stress this enough, not the same as "mentally being a child". Otherwise, a whole bunch of adults on this very website would be "mental middle schoolers" based on the shows that they watch - but they're obviously not. A profoundly ID adult doesn't have the "mind of a baby" if their favorite game is throwing a toy, they have the mind of a profoundly intellectually disabled adult. Sometimes people assume that since ID people aren't mentally [incorrect age], they always "act their [actual] age" and essentially end up downplaying how much some people's ID affects them, when the point is that no matter what you do, you are your age. An ID character who is 26 years, incontinent, constantly puts their hand in their mouth, can't speak, whatever, is mentally 26 years old the same way that they would be if they had a wife and a mortgage.

For the last thing from this section I'll circle back to the assumption that all severely/profoundly ID people are loud, aggressive, etc. - as I said, some of them are (just like abled people). The thing is, this is not always an unreasonable response to being unable to communicate with the people who are caring for you. If you had a pressure sore but couldn't explain it to anyone you'd be pissed off and screaming too. That's an extreme example, but still applies. If someone is severely stressed out (for an abled person, this might be inheriting a ton of debt, for a profoundly ID person it can be a change in daily routine), they can lash out. It's an unpleasant but very much human reaction to have, even if what's behind the ID person's behavior is significantly different from what an average abled person might consider "a good reason".

So I guess my advice is, try to show some empathy to the character, even if they genuinely are loud and/or aggressive. Intellectually disabled people - including the profoundly disabled ones - aren't some alien species that is just mean and hates their caregivers for no reason, some just can't process their feelings the way an abled person might because of their disability. That's not to say that caregivers aren't allowed to feel frustrated - because they are - but that very severely disabled people aren't purposefully evil. As mentioned in the earlier parts, all behavior has a cause, just like for literally everyone. So if the character is being "unmanageable": maybe they aren't some cursed burden, maybe they're just stressed out of their mind and now someone they don't know that well is trying to do *something* to them, which they can't figure out because of their disability affecting their receptive language skills.

Resources and What to Keep in Mind

[Plain Text: Resources and What to Keep in Mind]

Some resources you might read about ID can be potentially misleading. Even if you specifically look for causes of the profound severity of intellectual disability, you will get results for mild ID. That's mainly because people with mild ID make up >85% of intellectually disabled people and those with profound ID make like 1%, so they're a minority in a minority.

Basically:

Down syndrome is a very unlikely cause. It's always listed as the main genetic cause of ID, but that's only true for mild and moderate severities. If you choose any of the common causes of ID make sure it actually has the symptoms you're looking for.

Most profoundly ID people will have either severe brain damage early in life (and this can come with cerebral palsy), cephalic disorders (e.g. microcephaly), genetic conditions that you've never heard of (e.g. Pallister-Killian or Emanuel syndromes, 3p deletion), genetic conditions that you've never heard of for a very understandable reason (e.g. X-linked intellectual disability-limb spasticity-retinal dystrophy-arginine vasopressin deficiency… there are hundreds named in this way), or just have it without a known cause. The last one happens much more often than people tend to assume.

For a reason I'll probably discover at some point, most disorders and syndromes that come with ID are said to have "autistic-like features" rather than being "comorbid with autism". In practice, it's the same thing. Your character is probably autistic.

In the same way, a lot of practical resources will assume that ID = moderate ID (since most mildly affected need no or minimal support, and severely/profoundly disabled ones are a small minority) so pay attention if you're looking at the right things. If it's talking about having a job, travelling alone, etc., then you got clickbaited.

Another subsection here will be comorbidities because there are a lot of them. I’ll mention the biggest ones.

Brain damage is the most common one (except autism) and can vary a lot. There is barely anything I can say about this one, it’s an enormous spectrum that for some people causes disability and for others barely affects their symptoms. Cerebral palsy, especially quadriplegic, is seen a lot and might affect the character’s mobility a lot. Some people might be unable to breathe or swallow and need a breathing or feeding tube.

Deafness and blindness are comorbid with a surprising amount of causes of ID. The thing is, you could take advice for deaf/blind characters as-in for a character that has both (e.g.) glaucoma and mild ID and not change much, but this doesn’t really work for a character who’s profoundly disabled like this. The situation that can happen here is that it’s not actually known if the person is or isn’t deaf or blind because they can’t tell you. As mentioned earlier, some people will have absent receptive communication skills. How do you verify if they’re deaf or just not reactive to language? Some people won’t react to even extremely loud sounds, even if they can hear them perfectly well (besides, a lot of deaf people can still hear some). Same for verifying if they are blind - obviously, sometimes there’s something visual going on, but often there isn’t. Especially since the main causes of both blindness and deafness will be brain-based, not ear- or eye-based. Another character not being sure if the disabled character is blind or just very uninterested in visual stimuli is a possibility, especially with less advanced medicine.  This is also why you might see those weird statistics of "between 5-90% of people with [condition] are deaf" kind.

Mobility is almost always severely affected. Some are fully mobile, but that’s simply not common. The average person will be unable to walk independently. It’s not always a muscle or nerve problem (though it absolutely can be), it’s mostly an issue of coordination. Because of this (and understanding physical space), operating a wheelchair (...successfully) might be impossible. This doesn’t mean you should just drop your character in a hospital wheelchair for them to get wheeled around because they will probably need a wheelchair that will actually support them - a headrest, ability to tilt, a harness, all that. This could be done with a powerchair (they can have controls on the back for a second person to operate), a manual wheelchair, or an adaptive stroller.

Now for resources;

One good resource I can recommend is SBSK (which I shared before), to my knowledge this is the only place that interviews severely and profoundly ID people (+their families) and the interviewer is great at actually interacting with many of them. 

Most resources on the practical things only ever talk about caregivers (who are very important) but completely ignore the actual person being cared for which IMO kinda defeats the point.

Good luck writing!

mod Sasza

[georgeweasleyslostearhq]

EDDIE MUNSON HCs Part 2 - nsfw

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18+

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you are not safe to bend over in front of this man, he'd grab your hips and hump you until you push him away

will not let you leave his trailer without at least 1 (10) hickey

he's the king of teasing

this man is into medieval roleplay, he likes being a knight saving a damsel in distress or brings dnd into it.

he loves being tied up/ tying you up. it just gives him such pleasure, escpeciialy if there is blindfolding, he loves the idea of you getting to touch him and not knowing what you'll do next, it also makes his other senses highten so he feels everything 100% better

edging, thats all i need to say.

he is big on praise

"that's it baby" "you're doing so well f'me" "take me so well" "atta girl"

he's very vocal, and LOUD. that man will be moaning and panting in your ear, stuffing his face in your neck just sloppily thrusting into you.

he will take so many polaroids, in every position, we're taking his fingers in your mouth, tasting yourself on him/ your tits coverd in his juices, your ass in the air, with bright red handprints decorating your skin.

^later on he'd ask if he can make one of them an album cover but you said no.

he's into worshipping. he'll treat you like the godess you are and make sure to give every bit of you attention

i said he was into praise, but he's also degradation, saying things like

"such a slut, aren't you?" "look at you, you're so pathetic" "get on your knees, whore, show me how much you want to taste my cock"

this mans dirty talk is elite, although he has his moments when he gets totally awkward and stammers, (in the beginning f your relationship) that would made you scrunch your nose and shake your head with a litte giggle,

^when this would happen he'd get really flustered and let you take over

hair pulling.

loves when he's told what to do

he'll deny you of orgasms so much until when he finally lets youvyou're just too weak to even scream, you'll just whimper, and he'll pout like a sadistic bitch.

"is that all you got f'me?"

he can go forever, until you're a crying mess begging to stop, and, the gentleman he is, immediatley stops until you pull him back on top of you

to say he loves watching you squirm and writhe underneath him is an understantement, he LIVES for it

his favourite position is reverse cowgirl with him sitting upright behind you, hearing your ass slap against his lap as his hands find their way to your breasts. he likes this position because he can have easy access to your neck and have you leaning against his chest. all while whispering in the shell of your ear.

mate's good with his tongue

rings stay on when he's fingering you

not a big fan of toys. he thinks he's enough to please you

he'd 100% pull out a joint as you ride his dick. and depending on the situation, you'd either share it with him or get really annoyed because that cocky smirk wants you to be irritated

"what are you doing?" you'd stutter as you pant "keeping myself occupied" he'd answer

after that, you'd ride him even harder, trying to get his attention- that's the only reason he does it. to watch you bounce on his cock so hard just for him

his aftercare is most of the time him just lying beside you lazily, yawning because he'd tired himself out, mumbling that you do a good job and just holding you close to him

but when he's not used his full potential on giving you at least 5 rounds (because you must have been tired) he'd take the best care of you

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

[windblume-wishes]

Obey Me Brothers - The Period Pain Simulator (HCs)

AFAB MC in this story!

TW: Mentions of periods, blood, and period pain.

𝕃𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕤𝕖𝕖 𝕟𝕠𝕨, 𝕀 𝕓𝕖𝕝𝕚𝕖𝕧𝕖 𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕥𝕒𝕝𝕖 𝕘𝕠𝕖𝕤 𝕒 𝕝𝕚𝕥𝕥𝕝𝕖 𝕤𝕠𝕞𝕖𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕝𝕚𝕜𝕖…

You decided to order a period pain simulator after seeing trends online of men giving them a try and suffering. As being the only AFAB individual in a house full of testosterone it only makes sense to see if it too works on demon men- after all, a man is a man regardless of species, right? Surely seven demons could withstand a mere period pain simulator…. Right….?

Lucifer

He knows about periods, yes, Lilith herself did go through them- however, as far as he was aware, they were not as excruciating. She just was a moody muffin who became overly blunt and would be extremely hungry. Yes, she did want to throw hands at times but he shrugged it off for the most part.

Yes female angels have periods too, he has been witness to some rather brutal ones where the female angels just get insanely emotional or start wanting heads to roll. Demon females too, he’s seen plenty at the local grocery store go bonkers over snacks and the hygiene products.

He had no idea exactly how painful these could get, oh boy would he find out.

Was hesitant at first, after all, you seem to be in agony during your monthly visitor but he decides to give this a go just to see how you truly feel. He’s seen plenty of females, angel, human or demon, go through them and each have their own unique emotional range and pains.

What can possibly go wrong? It’s just a silly human device that is made to simulate period pain. How could this ever hurt the great Lucifer himself?

How bad can it REALLY be? Sir, prepare to feel some agony.

“Is this even on? Hmph, this is easier than I thought.”

Sir, that is because it’s only at setting 1, be ready for worse.

Immediately eats his words the second you crank it up to about three, he refuses to admit it hurts and simply says he’s a demon, this is nothing.

Crank it up to about five and he is already sweating, he still refuses to throw in the towel and admit defeat. He must hold out for as long as possible.

“Y/N… you really feel this?! Every month?!”

“Yes, but imagine more pain and blood gushing out of your southern hemisphere- oh and tender breasts, followed by a fever, bloating, nausea, and insane cravings.”

“Remind me to curse Father out more for this- ahem- design flaw…”

You crank it up to seven and he caves. He is done. He has unshed tears in his eyes and is on the bed writhing in agony.

“Honey, want to try levels nine and ten? That’s how it usually feels for me on the first two days.”

He literally looks you in the eyes and says he will never do that again, however… he just discovered an interesting punishment device in this thing.

I feel bad for the sorry chap who has to suffer the simulator by the hands of Lucifer himself.

After experiencing the period pain simulation he will go even more above and beyond for you during your period.

He runs to the store faster than Mammon when he hears the word “money” to buy you snacks, pads, and anything really.

“You know, level 10 is the equivalent to early labor pains.”

Oh absolutely not, nope, and he thought level 6 was labor pain.

You are hereby exempt from taking classes in-person while on your period. You will become an online student those days and you will be required to relax and take it easy.

If his grudge for his Father wasn’t already big enough that grudge just skyrocketed so high it’s practically a missile to the Celestial Realm.

Mammon

He’s mildly familiar with periods, despite having a little sister he’s still an idiot as to how biology works in that sense.

He has an F (32.60%) in biology currently

He understands the b*tchy attitude and the craving part but the blood part…? Not really. Tell him about bleeding for a week straight and watch this man dial 666 (Devildom’s 911) for immediate assistance in getting his human to the hospital because of Father above you are obviously dy*ng and you need help.

The minute you tell him about this simulator and how it’s supposedly painful and can simulate a period he gets curious and thinks this is a great way to show he’s manly enough for you.

Mammon, you will suffer worse than any of the punishment Lucifer has put you through.

“Can’t hurt worse than any kick to the balls! Ha! This is simple! I’m the GREAT Mammon, I got this!”

Mammon, sweetie, a kick to the balls is nothing to this. It’s scientifically proven that period pains are equally as painful as a heart attack.

He whimpers as the simulator is strapped on

“Y-yo what gives?! It hurts!”

“Mammon, it’s not even on…”

You turn the dial onto the lowest setting, one, so far Mammon is holding strong, nothing too serious.

“Just feels like I gotta fart- like, not a big one but a good sized one.”

Turn it up to about three and he is already clutching his gut and whimpering.

“O-ok! N-now I feel like I gotta sh*t! But there ain’t any sh*t to sh*t! Y/N THE HELL IS THIS?!”

You crank it up to about six and he gives up. He is on the ground crying like a baby.

He swears that Lucifer gives less painful punishments than THIS.

“TURN IT OFF!! YO Y/N TURN IT OFF!! THIS IS WORSE THAN ANYTHIN’!! GETTIN’ KICKED IN THE NUTS IS NOTHIN’ TO THIS!!”

He will also swear that getting “the cut” was less painful than this simulator and will wholeheartedly d*e on that hill.

“This is like… my third lightest day in terms of flow, so yeah- this is painful but just uncomfortable.”

“TF YOU MEAN JUST UNCOMFORTABLE?!”

Man is ready to throw hands with your uterus and demand it stops hurting you.

Mammon feels even worse knowing he picked on his little sister when she was on her period and vows to never anger a lady on her monthly ever again.

“I-is it true ya don’t get this when yer pregnant…? If so, uh….”

Leviathan

He’s heard of periods of course, mainly from anime and manga. He knew of them a bit back when Lilith was around but never really thought much of it.

He is legit scared of them though because Lilith would bite and would get extremely moody on hers and he only ever was aware of the emotional aspect of periods.

Little girl chased him into his room and became very chihuahua like when on her monthly.

He thought the blood part was something only in anime and manga but…. Shh, Y/N, let him figure that out himself.

He’s familiar with the trend, he spends his time scrolling through FabSnap for trends or other things.

“LMAO what normie stuff! Putting themselves through pain from some measly human machine ROTFL!”

“Levi, that measly human machine hurts worse than getting kicked in the balls and is as painful as a literal heart attack.”

“Y/N, PLZ, that’s gotta be some normie rumor and they’re acting in front of the camera- that thing is so small that it totally can’t do something like THAT! LOOOOOOOLLL!! So yeah, my balls are fine, I’m fine, and I’m NOT gonna look like a normie whining on the floor!”

He lifts his shirt and puts the stickers on where they belong he sits in his beanbag chair and waits for whatever you have to throw at him.

How bad can this normie thing be?

He feels a small ounce of discomfort when it’s at one, just brushes it off and is slightly unfazed.

“Just feels like I ate something weird- lmao like that really awful Ruri-Chan collab I went to in-”

To shut him up you crank it to three.

“Ooofff! W-why does it feel like I really gotta sh*t? Is that all a period is? Feeling like you gotta run to the bathroom all the time?!”

Oh Levi, if only you REALLY knew….

You crank the simulator up to six and he screams like a baby, his scream is so high pitched it may have almost broke Henry’s fish tank….

You crank up one more level and oh goodness is he screaming even louder.

“TURN IT OFF!! TURN THE DAMN THING OFF OMG!! THIS HURTS!! OMG THIS HURTS!!!”

“That’s like- my second or third heaviest day, give or take. Sometimes it feels worse. That’s still doable but hurts.”

He will legit look at you with the face of ‘what the absolute f*ck’ while crying.

Like Mammon, will wholeheartedly d*e on the hill of “the cut” hurting less than this simulator- hell, that was wimp level compared to a period pain! Level uno!

Totally the tutorial for the game called pain.

Leviathan will want to throw hands with your uterus and will feel immense guilt realizing how he didn’t do enough for Lilith when she was still around.

“I-if anime has taught me anything t-then I um… t-then I’m gonna treat you m-much better, y/n…! W-wanna watch some anime now…?”

Please give him hugs after that simulator! He needs that desperately!

Satan

Oh he knows, he’s very well aware of how periods are painful, sometimes even more painful depending on the person.

Satan has heard of the simulator and is aware it’s supposed to be excruciating for men, however, that will probably not have any effect on him- he’s a demon. Demon males are stronger than human males-

What? Lucifer was in agony?! Lucifer caved from a mere period pain simulator?! Mammon and Levi too?! Challenge accepted.

You’ve never seen this man rip his shirt off so fast and strap on the simulator in your life. He was eager to prove he is stronger than that stupid Lucifer.

Level one? Really? Is that thing even on? This is NOTHING!

“This is easy, nothing, if this is what a period truly feels like then it’s not too unbearable. Perhaps the books were wrong.”

He eats those words immediately when you crank the simulator up to four.

“O-okay, this is uncomfortable. I feel like I seriously have to run to the men’s room… there’s nothing to release yet it feels like I have food poisoning… hhhnnnggg!!!”

You crank it up to six and he is in tears and gritting his teeth. Agony is setting in and he is digging his nails into his pillow.

“MOTHER F——”

A lot of swearing, not just modern swears, oh no, he will let out swears from the first ever civilizations and ancient peoples. If there was ever a swear word dictionary you best believe this man would have written it.

“SON OF A MOTHER [insert any swears you so wish here]”

Ok, please get one of those TV censored buttons in here. The bleep button will be going nonstop at this point…

“HOW THE [censored] CAN YOU [censored] EVEN [censored] TAKE THIS?!”

If you could tally every swear this man has said you may have filled an entire notepad by now and then some…

Please see your nearest Purgatory Hall for an angel’s blessing to your ears once this has concluded, thank you!

At seven he is still trying his absolute hardest not to break, he absolutely has to beat Lucifer, he needs to be better than him! He refuses to fail!

Please insert any swears from the 14th century here please and thank you! :3

You crank it up to eight and that is it, he is immediately caving, he yells in absolute agony into his pillow. He is sweaty and in tears.

“W-what the absolute f*ck was that?! That… the books never said it would hurt that terribly! How are you even alive, Y/N?! If it’s truly as painful as a heart attack you seriously need to take the week off!”

“Hm? A week off? Well, about that, we usually just suffer silently as we go about our days. Chocolate is a game changer truly.”

His jaw drops, he cannot begin to comprehend how the hell you are even able to walk after going through such a painful experience. Let alone how it even feels to have a full crimson waterfall for 24 hours seven days a week or less depending on the person.

“Oh and I’m also moody, nauseous, bloated, crave weird things and purposely read sad books or watch crime shows. In the mornings for some people it can mimic that of morning sickness and really make it unbearable. Fevers included.”

Watch this man begin to go through all his books to find ways to curse your uterus into never harming you again.

“Y/N…? Did I beat Lucifer? What level did he cave at?!”

You tell him he caved at seven and this man’s ego has skyrocketed. He is the most cocky man in the Devildom.

Congratulations, Y/N, you just literally made this man so full of himself he will probably not go back to normal for at least another 666 years at the least….

Asmodeus

Oh hon, he KNOWS about periods, he knows all the dirty details that come with it and literally everything about them. It’s kinda his thing.

Oh you didn’t know he tracks your cycle too? Oh hon, PLEASE, this man knows what’s up! Did you honestly think he did not know how to track these things? He helped his own little sister track hers and understand how to track them.

He’s heard of this trend going around and he can’t help but feel bad for every AFAB person who suffers period pains for real and without a simulation machine.

“Hon, you want me to try this out? Alright then~ a little pain can be fun you know~” *insert little winks and smirk*

Asmo, no, not THAT kind of pain…. *sigh*

Please don’t bonk him, he will make that hornkee jail worthy too…

He gets into some cute and comfy shorts from Victoria’s Secret and takes off his shirt. He makes sure to get on his bed so he feels at least some comfort.

Asmo is actually legitimately scared, he knows they are painful, he has seen you in agony and understands that there is undoubtedly pain in the package, he just does not know how much pain.

Can it be worse than the pain of getting his jewels busted? Definitely. Is it as painful as a heart attack? Science says yes.

He straps the stickers to his lower abdomen and braces for what happens next, he gets even more prepared by putting a pink fluffy headband on to pull his hair back in case he starts sweating… eew! Hon, no, sweat is totes gross and he cannot sweat and ruin his hair!

You turn it on and he winces, it’s not too painful, just uncomfortable. He understands this will only get worse and oh Diavolo is he bracing for impact.

“Y/N, hon, would you be a dear and hold my hand~?”

You comply hold his hand, he’s already squeezing it a little but not too tightly.

You crank it up to three and he is already wincing more and doing breathing exercises like he is a woman in labor. Admittedly, it is rather entertaining to witness…

“Oh goodness, hon, this… HHHNNNGGGGG…!!!! Oh this is certainly getting uncomfortable…”

You crank the device up to about five and he squeezes your hand tightly and lets out some swears. Sweat drips from his brow and he legit looks like he is a woman giving birth.

“Y/N, OH MY GOSH- OH F—! HHHHNNNGGGGG!!!! IT HURTS SO MUCH AND NOT THE FUN KINDA PAIN!!”

“You can do this, Asmo! You made it to level five and that’s incredible!”

“SHUSH!! OH DIAVOLO IT FEELS LIKE ITS AT TEN! AAAHHHH!!”

However….. RIP your hand and your ears as this man screams. A LOT.

The device goes to seven and he squeezes your hand even harder, honestly, you’re surprised it’s not broken.

“I FEEL LIKE I HAVE TO PUSH!! OH DIAVOLO THIS IS- AAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!!!!”

Push what? Nothing. Sir, you have nothing to push. You are definitely holding back your laughter as this is almost as good as the top Hollywood acting you see in films. Get this demon an award!

Breathing exercises continue and he continues to unintentionally look like he is having serious contractions and about to pop out a child- he’s not but… the simulator is doing a number on him for sure.

Don’t worry, he won’t spawn a random demon like a certain brother of his. Won’t mention any names… but… Lucifer…

You turn the device to about eight and that is it… he is done for.

His poor face is a mess with tears, some snot, and all red… give him a hug, a blanket, some chocolate, some skincare products, and a ton of kisses!!

“H-hon… how in the realms do you survive that agony?! How does anyone survive that?! Are we sure you didn’t strap a labor simulator on me?! Because if you hurt that much you are staying right here with me and I will make sure you feel incredible during your monthly visitor~”

“I feel all that along with the bloating, crimson waterfall of doom, the bizarre cravings, the mood swings, and the need to- ahem… fill in the blank…”

Say no more. This man is READY to go! Hon, you need only say the word and he is all set and ready to pounce!

“Before we do all that, hon, perhaps we can have a quick cuddle session~? I could use that after what you did to me~ and since you had your turn being in control…. Fufu~ you’ll be on the receiving end when we have our fun, love~”

Hello? 666 (Devildom’s 911)? Yes, I’d like to call an ambulance for Y/N when Asmo has finished his… yeah… Y/N may need a wheelchair…

Beelzebub

Oh? Periods? Like in Writing Class…..? No, Beel, sweetie… like the week of blood and agony.

He knows about them a little bit, he understands that there’s a super painful time for AFAB people but never knew it meant blood.

Beel remembers Lilith being very moody and hungry when she was on hers, he remembered how mad she would get if anyone touched her sweets.

He may have almost suffered a broken nose because she was really upset he ate her chocolate cupcakes and now understands that you need sugar to feel better.

Is it medicine…? Sort of, Beel, sort of like medicine, sweetie.

You have to hold his hand and explain the whole process and why it happens, he does get a bit confused but now understands why you smelled like iron those times- he just thought you are a big juicy steak and got all the juices on you somewhere.

“So you bleed for a week or a few days…? And you don’t… you know…. Go…?”

“Yes, for a a few days to a week, no biggie, it’s all part of the process. See? I’m alive, don’t look so scared, Beeley Bear!”

Give him some head pats and make sure he knows you won’t be d*ing anytime soon because of a period.

After promising to take him to a buffet for lunch he agrees to try the simulator, it truly did not take much convincing as he truly wanted to understand and also…. Food.

Beel will take off his shirt and get comfortable in a pair of workout shorts before putting the pads on his lower abdomen.

He is actually very nervous, while he can take pain and all he does actually get scared.

You switch it on to level one and he is confused, wheres the pain?

“Is this even on, Y/N…? Did I break it…? I’m sorry…”

“No you didn’t break it, Beel, this is just level one of ten.”

You crank it up to three and he is starting to feel something. Not much, but something.

“Feels like… hmm… feels like I may need to run to the little demons’ room but not too bad. Is this normal…?”

You nod and crank it up to about five and he has a hand over his belly wincing a little, he truly feels like he needs to run to he little demons’ room but knows there is nothing there.

“So all this is just the feeling of seriously needing to run to the little demons’ room…? So far so good I guess… just feels very uncomfortable. Like a tummy ache…”

“Yeah, it feels like that at times, I get it, but there is obviously more to it than feeling like you need to make a mad dash to the nearest available ‘little demons’ room’ as you put it.”

Crank it up to eight and he is legit starting to feel the pain.

“Y-Y/N… Y/N this r-really hurts now…. feels like when I ate a can of expired tomatoes from 400AD….”

Y/N, you made Beel start to cry, I truly hope you feel terrible now… he has tears in his eyes and is whimpering like a puppy.

You immediately turn it off because quite frankly seeing Beel upset was what truly did it for you.

“I’m sorry for eating your snacks during that time of the month, Y/N, for now on, you can have my custard and as many of my snacks as you want. Oh, and if you wanna go to a restaurant for lunch or something let me know! You’ll get anything!”

Beel is literally the sweetest guy ever, he will literally make sure that you get everything and more during that time of the month because you deserve it.

Belphegor

He knows a bit, not much but definitely enough, he understands that hormones play a huge part and make you an emotional mess, he also understands that there’s blood involved and that there’s weird cravings but the rest? Fill in the blanks.

He remembers Lilith being extra clingy with him when she was on her period, yes she would threaten to bite if he so much as moved the wrong way when she would hop into his bed at night.

One time Belphie made the stupid mistake of saying Lilith looked like she was ran over by a stampede one morning when she had a rude awakening with the crimson flow of doom and got slapped for it.

Like Lilith, you seem to have inherited the same attitude along with a plethora of others… lovely.

“So that’s why you’re always extra b*tchy- hormones and pain, huh? I get it, I’d be just as b*tchy if I were in your shoes- oh I can be in your shoes…?”

Belphie is a bit confused at first at what you mean, he first thought you meant a trip to Solomon to make a potion that would give him the sensation of a period but apparently not.

Oh thank goodness, gives him an excuse not to get out of bed and to remain in his pyjamas and cuddle you and his favourite pillow.

“So is it supposed to hurt or anything? If so this is weak as f—k.”

“Belphie, it’s not even on.”

“Oh… then turn it on before I consider forfeiting and taking a nap, nap time is about now- O-oh…”

Turning it on shuts him up immediately and he sits there a bit confused.

He looks mildly uncomfortable, still a bit confused as to why it’s not that bad- after all, you make it sound as if your insides are literally becoming outsides.

“That’s it? Y/N, not gonna lie, this is boring. I thought this was supposed to be painful.”

Turn the dial up to about four and he’s wincing a bit.

“O-oh sh*t… Y-Y/N I really feel like I need to run to the little demons’ room…! Hhnngg….!”

“It feels like that, doesn’t it? That feeling lasts about two to three days for me depending on flow and length of period.”

He just glares at you as you turn it up to six, he is clutching his pillow and swears just as much as Satan… he also breaks out the 14th century swears along with the first ever swear words of early civilizations.

“SON OF A [censored]! THIS [censored] [censored] HURTS LIKE A [censored]!!

That’s cute, Y/N, you thought Satan was the swear word machine. No, it’s Belphie. This boy can swear! And this little sh*t can get away with it too because he’s the youngest…

“Want to cave in, sweetie?”

“F—K NO! I WANNA BEAT LUCIFER…!”

Turn the dial up to seven and he’s starts crying loudly, this honestly hurts too much for him and it is not pleasant in the slightest.

“TURN IT OFF DAMNIT!! TURN IT OFF…!!”

He has sweat pouring from his brow and tears streaming down his face and looks like a hot mess, you immediately take the stickers off his belly and give him a huge hug.

“Y-you go through that…? Every month or so…?”

“Yes, but of course there’s blood, mood swings, cravings, waking up nauseous sometimes with a small fever, and even being bloated. Sore breasts too on occasion.”

“How the absolute f—k are you even allowed to leave the house and go about life with all that?! No, you are gonna stay with me and cuddle. No way you should have to go through that.”

Belphie will literally buy you any and all products you need from Akuzon while you cuddle because there is no way you should be made to move- well unless you need a new pad or tampon or something or to go…. But food? He will ask his twin to be the delivery guy with snacks and drinks.

“What the f—k was Father thinking when he made this? I mean- I know why it happens and all but what the f—k was his overall logic?!”

Like Lucifer, has plans of giving Father the what for with this “design flaw”.

“New prank idea- make a potion to use on Lucifer than makes him feel this pain for a week straight!”

Belphie…. No….

Belphie yes 😈

———

- Windblume

[heartbeat-eras]

Changing Gears

I was chatting to buddy about how they feel when their meds kick in and if they notice the change in their heart as they start to work. When mine kick in I rarely notice the physiological changes and only the cognitive ones when tasks become easier to just do. They commented about the moment that they notice their heart "changes gears". Switches from cruising to "it's time to work now", like an automatic car dropping to a lower gear to take off faster. The thing is I never notice it because I'm usually doing something and my focus is elsewhere.

I commented on how I've really wanted a moment where she's monitored through the whole med process - from resting to actively working. When you take extended release meds however, that can be anywhere up to 1 - 2 hours for them to hit. I kinda imagined a morning laying on the couch, a buddy using my chest as pillow as we lazily watch tv.. them commenting on the changes in her beats and rhythm as the meds started to work more and more (because who can handle a steth in their ears for that long?).

While I was thinking about this I noticed that I could feel my heart beating a bit faster... pounding a bit harder.... So I pulled out the steth to check. She was definitely a lot more forceful, throwing harder beats here and there as she tried to work out her rhythm. I decided to record her too.. first 10 mins.. then 20... and all of sudden she had been beating away for almost 30 mins.. well at that point we just needed to keep going right?

So here we are.. The recording was started 30 mins after my meds were taken up the 1 hour mark. Can you hear her as she changes gears for the day?

Steth - Champagne Classic

Location - Erbs

[winterchestnut]

My opinion of you based on your main love interest, but this time, it's personal. (Post Jan. 10 live stream)

Xavier mains: Hello, my neurodivergent pookie. Have you taken your meds today? You have dyslexia, autism, ADHD, or some mixture of the three. You have niche interests, which not a lot of people can understand or get into. And it all makes you feel alone. You are kind and friendly to everyone, but does anyone reciprocate?¿ 🤨

Zayne mains: The burnt out gifted kid. You're tired of taking care of everyone else and just want someone else to take care of you now. Possibly the oldest daughter of the family.

Rafayel mains: Also burnt out gifted kid. But you don't want to be taken care of. It's the rest of the world that needs to be taken care of after you've stormed through it. You were deeply hurt by something in the past, leading you to be the rebellious, chaotic bitch you are today. You want someone to burn the world to the ground with you.

Sylus mains: I'm going to hold your hand when I say this, "Cut them out of your life. Family gets on your nerves sometimes, but they're not supposed to treat you like that." Also applies if you've had an abusive ex. You've been treated so badly by others that you feel undeserving of love and that your existence is "wrong." So to feel valued, you want someone "worse" than you who will love you unconditionally. You want someone to burn the world to the ground for you.

Future Caleb mains: Welcome back, WINTER SOLDIER. (You guys are the only ones to get a photo.)

Patient. And I highly respect that. You saw him on Day 1 and have been waiting a whole ass year for him to become date-able. With all the heavy hinting and implications of him arriving, how does it feel to finally get your wish? You also have an easier time embracing the "childhood friends living together" theme than the rest of the fandom. And, honestly, pop off, girlie. Congratulations are in order, which you probably like considering your man is in uniform. Also, will you show me your savings? It can be Deepspace wishes, Exp bottles, or protocores. I'm just curious because I know people esp. F2P will SAVE and stock up on materials for their favorite characters in other gacha games. The most saved pulls I'd ever seen was ~900 for Eula in Genshin Impact.

From a Rafayel main

[faghubby]

True Story, I am always asked about real life so here is one un embellished

John is my Key master, a few weeks ago he put me back in chastity after my recovery from cancer. He choose 24 months as the time. ( I have done 10 months before) he will have to remove it in six months for cat scans to make sure the cancer is gone. But he knows that.

I work as a plumber so physically I don't have a soft small frame of a girl. But John likes me to be as girlie as possible when with him. He likes the domination so me not passing turns him on. He has rules

Rule one. Only femine under things.

Rule two smell like a woman

Rule three if I agree to it I can not undo it

These are his rules for always. So even when not with him. There are more rules when with him. Usually not allowed to wear anything masculine at all.

Anyway he is one night

"Paulina!' I heard John call thru the house. He had let himself in. He does have a key after all. I rushed down the stairs. My 3 inch heels clicking on the hardwood. I wore a new black dress. It clung to me. It only covered half my ass as I walked I jumped into John's arms kissing him his hands on my ass. My dress completely up now and my thong buried between my cheeks.

"Have you made a decision?" He asked me setting me down. He had wanted me to get my navel and nipples pierced for him. When I was reluctant to do it. He offered me a necklace I would have to wear ALL the time.

"The necklace" I told him. He pulled out of his pocket and put it on me. The chain was alot shorter then I had thought it would be. A gold chain with SISSY in bold bright pink letters. It would show in even a simple tee shirt I thought.

"Thank you I love it" I told him. As I dropped to the floor and unbuttoned his pants. I finished out hid lovely cock and had it down my throat in minutes. I sucked his cock and balls. My hands running over his thighs and ass. But he didn't let me finish. Instead he stood me up and pushed me over the back of my couch. He tore my lace thong off of me, and applied lube. Before he drove his cock into me. There was no tenderness or compassion just animal lust. He fucked me smacking my ass for good measure as he did. He is like a machine my legs cramped before he pumped his load deep inside me.

He stripped often does and sat in my living room naked. I got him a drink and snacks before I joined him. I sat on a pillow on the floor. My head on his leg. We watched some sports highlights. I went and refilled his drink then came back with wet wipes and washed his cock.

"Go ahead" he told me softly as I sucked his soft cock hard again, I focused on pleasing him as he watchedTV. He was rock hard again and he stopped me.

"Go get some nipple clamps, the ones with the chain, and the big plug you don't like" John told me. I rushed upstairs to get them. I returned wearing the nipple clamps.

"Sit onnthe toy. While you finish sucking my cock" He told me.

I winced as I sat on the thick toy. I rocked back and forth on it as I sucked John's cock, he pulled on the chain if he thought I didn't sit for back enough.

"You know why don't you?" He asked

"Because I didn't get the piercings" I told him. He nodded.

"If you take that toy all the way, I will spend the night" he told me I leaned back and bottomed out. My locked little pee pee leaked all over me. John took my head and face fucked me. Until he came pumping every drop into my stomach.

It was already late and John led me to my bedroom. He had me strip to my bra and put on fresh panties. Then he had me lay over the bed. Taking out our paddle he gave me 12 smacks on the ass.

"Next time I want you to do something you will agree" he told me then held me as we fell asleep.

I wo,e him early busy sucking his cock agsin. He pushed me over and pulled my panties downnand fucked me again. Before he showered and headed out .

[reginalusus]

I am impressed with your work! I'm still on my way to explore Bruharvey. Maybe you have some headcanons for them, maybe something from a previous life when both were in college?

Aweee, thank you... <3

My Bruharvey headcanon: Harvey is taller than Bruce and Bruce is a whimpering, pining mess for him. Harvey is an oblivious dumbass. Scarvey knows and weaponizes it. That is all. Goodbye.

Ok, fine. <3

But oh, God, my Bruharvey is kinda rusty but here I go. I don't have many headcanons around the college era of their lives because it's not a particular era that kind of... interests me? Except for a few things which I will indulge in down the list. You know what? I'll be fair and do five for each.

Childhood

Harvey was the curser of the two. Bruce would always try to get him to stop using such language, but it made him laugh, and is there anything more addictive to a sad child than laughing?

Bruce always knew he liked Harvey, even as a child. He couldn't quite explain it yet obviously, this odd feeling of puppy love, but there was always something about his friendship that felt different from others.

Bruce would buy makeup/supplies for Harvey to help cover/hide his bruises and wounds. People at school talk. It's the least he could do.

Harvey would take advantage of his father's drunken comas to sneak out of the house and play with Bruce until the street lights came on. I DO imagine Chris disapproved of Harvey's relationship with Bruce, but that's EXTREME HC territory with no real canon to help me explain.

Scarv was beginning to rear his head as Harvey approached his tweens. It came with headaches, bad nausea, frightening voices, fatigue, so much so that Bruce's worry for Harvey only worsened when Harvey suddenly wouldn't show up at their meeting place to play and hang out.

College

Harvey's crush on Bruce starts to bloom. But it's shattered to pieces frequently because Bruce is a man that seems to get around. He always seems to be talking about a girl he thinks likes him or a boy he's thinking of asking out.

When Harvey gets drunk, Bruce would engage/prompt him into some silly courtroom roleplay. He'd claim it was 'practice'. Sometimes, when the verdict was reached, there was a kiss. Or two. Maybe more.

Bruce begins to notice that a stressed Harvey seems to own an odd rasp to his speech. He becomes snappy out of apparently nowehere, and he doesn't seem to recall what they talked about moments prior. Bruce's search history suddenly becomes less focused on his studies and more of symptom checking.

Bruce has joked about Harvey gaining some extra cash by being a nude model for art students. Little does he know the impact this will have later.

Harvey will show coin tricks to people at parties as a conversation starter. Bruce doesn't have the heart to tell him how dorkish it makes him look - mainly because he loves it.

Adulthood

Bruce would frequently come around to Harvey's DA office when he could, normally with flowers and a proposal to try and get him off work. 9/10 times he failed.

People seem to forget that Harvey is also good at detective work. So I bring upon you this (which I have mentioned before): Harvey sometimes gets a whiff of faint aftershave on Batman that's... oddly familiar. The practicing grips of CQC are... vaguely familiar also. When he's with Bruce, what's with the odd calluses on his palms?

Bruce is a strong man; he can cope with a lot of horrible, mental images. He can power through almost anything. But Harvey's various suicide attempts are one of the few things that haunt him.

Bruce uses himself as a grounding mechanism for Harvey's bad derealization/dissociation episodes. He'll guide Harvey's hands over him, asking him what he feels, how it feels.

Harvey and Scarvey are fascinated with Bruce's duality. Harvey, in canon, has said that he finds Bruce's duality beautiful. Harvey takes particular interest in the Bruce Wayne persona, Scarvey takes interest in the Batman persona. For both philosophical AND romantic reasons.

And a cheeky sixth one: Harvey will always be the gorgeous Apollo to Bruce, even with the scars, the stressed aging, the sins on his back. One day, he will utter it in Harvey's ear. He will not be prepared for how this backfires.

I have been thinking about them a little lately. A lot of people talk about them in an AU sense or when they were younger and before the Canon Event which is fine and sweet and all, and still interesting in its own right. But, personally, these two interest me most when they are at their most seasoned. Two aging men with the world on their backs and their worldview changed by a city that refuses to change. When said city has completely digested them. How two men burdened by duality can make each other feel like one. That's my interest. But anyway, headcanons!

[tortillamastersblog]

Back To You - Part 10 | Sam Carpenter

Pairing: Sam Carpenter x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, death, blood, injuries, and swearing

Summary: When Sam left after turning eighteen, you were devastated. You’d been in love with her since you were kids and her leaving meant you never got to tell her how you truly felt.

Fast forward a couple of years, Tara gets attacked and Sam returns. . .

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

_______________________________________________

9 months later. . .

“Look who finally made it,” Liam teases when he opens his door.

I scoff playfully and hug him after being ushered into the apartment. “I’m sorry. I know I said I’d be here earlier, but traffic was a bitch.”

“It’s okay. I know.” He waves me off and runs a hand down his dress shirt, smoothing it out. “But I have to get going, or I’m going to be late.”

I nod and accept the spare key he hands me while slipping into his dress shoes. “Have fun!” I tease when he shrugs on his jacket.

“It’s a business dinner, not a date, Y/N.” He deadpans which makes me laugh and slap his shoulder before he leaves with a final wave and smile.

It’s the end of September and I’m visiting New York for a couple of days since I have some time off before the hockey season begins again.

I’m here to visit Liam— obviously, since I’m staying with him— but also Tara and Sam, who agreed it would be better if I stayed with Liam since they’re apartment is fairly small and their roommate, Quinn, doesn’t know me.

Since Christmas, we’ve only seen each other once, three months ago, at one of my hockey games which Sam, Tara, Mindy and Chad came to see after they all collectively moved to New York.

I was happy to see them again, and glad we were once again living in the same time zone, but there was an underlying tension the whole time we hung out because things between Sam and I haven’t been the same ever since Christmas.

While Tara and I are in contact almost daily, Sam and I barely even talk once a week. It’s not for her lack of trying though, it’s because I’ve distanced myself ever since I realized it was hopeless to think the two of us could ever be a thing.

I gave up on her, doing exactly what Tara told me not to do, and I even tried to move on, but that didn’t work out as planned.

I went on a couple of dates here and there, and hooked up with several people, but I just can’t get over Sam even though nowadays we’re barely even friends.

The only reason we could still be considered friends is because of our backstory and because Tara connects us. Other than that, we’re back to the way things were when Sam first returned to Woodsboro, and being like this hurts even more than when she was simply gone.

Those five years were undoubtedly the most painful years of my life, but now everything is so much worse. I thought I’d gotten Sam back, I thought we could finally be something, but all of that hope shattered as soon as she said she’d never do long distance. She also never acknowledged how Richie exposed my feelings for her, which makes it abundantly clear that she’d rather just forget about it and move on as friends.

I know she doesn’t owe me anything and she’s been trying to stay in contact as best as she can, but I’m just too hurt to let her back in and accept her as just a friend.

I know how stupid that sounds and it’s not my intention to hurt her by keeping my distance, but it’s just how I cope with everything.

With a sigh I enter Liam’s apartment properly and let out an impressed whistle when I realize just how big and luxurious it actually is. When he sent me his address and I saw that it was on the upper west side, I was surprised because living here is usually reserved for the rich and famous, but he explained that his company owns the building and rents its apartments to their employees for a reasonable price.

That doesn’t make it any less luxurious though, and when I take a look in the bathroom and see a rain shower with a view of the twinkling city outside I make a mental note to use it as soon as possible.

Right now, I’m hungry though, so I raid Liam’s fridge, helping myself to a smoothie and some leftover chocolate cake that he has for some reason.

The dinner he’s at right now wasn’t planned, it was a last minute thing his boss organized, but I’m not complaining. Yes, we were supposed to do something together tonight, but I’ll just check and see if Sam and Tara are free instead.

We’re supposed to meet up tomorrow for lunch, but I don’t see why I can’t stop by their place tonight, too.

I pull out my phone and call Tara after gulping down some of my smoothie. She doesn’t answer, so I reluctantly call Sam next.

Tara’s probably in the shower or something. . . God knows she loves to take long ass showers. When she lived with me my water bill almost doubled.

Sam picks up after two rings which is not surprising since I can’t remember the last time I called her instead of the other way around.

“Hey, Y/N. You okay?” Her concerned voice makes my stomach twist and I hate how she thinks something’s wrong because I’m calling her instead of Tara.

“Hey. Yeah, I’m okay. Just got into the city and was wondering if I could stop by your place for some dinner since Liam was called into work,” I say.

The sound of traffic on Sam’s end of the line makes me realize she’s not home and I think calling might have been a mistake, but she immediately agrees. “Of course. I’ll text you the address again. I’m not home yet because I just got out of therapy, but Tara and Quinn should be home.“

“Okay. Thanks.”

There’s an awkward silence, but Sam is quick to break it by saying, “Alright then. See you soon.”

“Yeah. See you.” I hang up and exhale slowly.

It’s just Sam, Y/N. Pull yourself together. You’re going to go see Tara and Sam, and their roommate, not just Sam.

The two of us haven’t been alone since Christmas eve and I’m not planning on changing that anytime soon.

I finish the piece of cake and throw away the empty smoothie bottle before grabbing a zip up hoodie from my bag and heading out of the apartment.

Sam and Tara’s apartment is quite far away, and because I’m not in the mood to call an Uber or take the subway, I take one of the public e scooters standing around, unlocking it with my phone before heading off.

It’s nice getting some fresh air after being cooped up in my car for hours and not even fifteen minutes later I’m in front of the building Sam sent me the address of.

I get off the scooter and park it around the corner, making my way inside the building after getting buzzed in by some random person.

Compared to Liam’s building, this place is a dump, but it seems relatively safe and affordable, so who am I to judge. This is New York after all.

I head up the stairs and knock on the door of Sam and Tara’s apartment, my heart rate picking up with each second that passes until the door finally opens.

Having expected Sam or Tara, I’m surprised when a stranger greets me. It’s a red haired girl, around Tara’s age, with a round face and gray eyes. She’s dressed in only a robe and I momentarily avert my eyes when she reties it around her waist.

“Hi, you must be Quinn,” I say, raising my hand in greeting.

Quinn’s eyes rake over me and she smirks before her eyes snap back up to mine. “Yeah, and you’re Y/N, right?”

I nod, feeling slightly uncomfortable under her hungry gaze. “The one and only,” I joke, trying to lighten the mood.

Quinn’s face softens ever so slightly and her smirk turns into a genuine smile. “So I heard. . . You’re here to see Sam and Tara?” she guesses and when I nod again, she opens the door properly and invites me inside.

“Sam should be here any minute, but Tara is out,” she says.

I frown. “She’s out? Sam said she’d be here.”

Quinn smiles apologetically and goes to say something but then a man’s voice from a nearby room calls for her. “Babe? You coming back or what?”

My eyes widen and I feel heat rushing into my cheeks. That’s why she’s only wearing a robe. “Shit, I’m sorry I didn’t mean to. . . interrupt you and your boyfriend.”

“My boyfriend?” Quinn laughs as if the idea is ridiculous and waves me off. “Oh don’t worry. He’s not my boyfriend. We’re just hooking up.” She eyes me once again with that lustful look in her eyes and bites her lip seductively, squeezing my biceps. “You could join us if you want. The more the merrier, am I right?”

I squirm and pull my arm out of her grasp with an uncomfortable smile. “Uh, no thanks. I’m good.”

God, what’s up with her?

I want to ask about Tara’s whereabouts again when the door behind us opens.

My eyes instantly lock with Sam’s and even though I’m nervous to see her again, I’m also relieved she’s here to distract Quinn from making a move on me again.

“Y/N. . .” She hugs me after a moment’s hesitation before shrugging off her jacket and hanging it up on the hook next to the door. “I see you’ve already met Quinn.”

I rub the back of my neck awkwardly and avoid looking at the aforementioned roommate. “Mhmm.”

Quinn, having absolutely no shame whatsoever, touches my arm again. “Yeah. Why didn’t you tell me Y/N was such a snack, Sam?”

Oh lord. . .

My face heats up again, but Sam is quick to come to my rescue. She raises an unimpressed eyebrow before stepping in between Quinn and me which forces the redhead to let go of me.

“Right. I forgot you don’t like to share.” Quinn laughs, unbothered and turns to head into the kitchen.

“Sorry about that. I know she can be a bit much sometimes.” Sam glances at me over her shoulder, and I wave her off nervously.

“It’s okay.“

She turns as soon as Quinn is out of sight and I hold my breath at how close she is.

She looks as beautiful as ever even though she looks tired and I curse my heart for flipping in my chest when she picks a piece of lint off my shoulder.

The white off-shoulder top she’s wearing over her tank top looks incredible on her and I have to force myself not to look at her exposed neck and collar bones too much, a task that is incredibly hard because she’s wearing the necklace I gave her for Christmas.

It glints in the low light and even though the knowledge that she still wears it makes my insides melt, it also serves as a reminder why I’ve been keeping my distance.

Don’t get hurt again, Y/N.

I swallow thickly and lean back a little, not missing the way confusion and hurt flashes across Sam’s face before she clears her throat and steps back.

She looks anywhere but at me before asking Quinn, “Have you seen Tara?”

Quinn, who was just about to open a bottle of wine in the kitchen turns with a sheepish smile. “Uh, don’t be mad. . .”

I frown and follow Sam into the kitchen.

“Why would I be mad?” Sam asks and the way Quinn winces slightly at her tone makes my lips twitch with amusement.

“Because you get mad,” she says and I can’t help but agree silently.

Sam does have a temper, however I’m not sure why she’d be mad when Quinn tells her where Tara is as long as she’s not alone.

“Babe?” The guy from what I’m assuming is Quinn’s bedroom calls for her again which makes Sam’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise, the question of Tara’s whereabouts momentarily forgotten.

“Is that Paul?” she asks and Quinn cringes when the guy shouts, “Who the fuck is Paul?”

“Life, I have found,” she says quietly with an innocent shrug, “is all about variety.”

This time I can’t help but smile properly, and Sam chuckles softly, too.

“So, uh, where’s Tara?” she asks after a moment which makes Quinn sigh helplessly, the wine on the counter forgotten as she toys with the bottle opener in her hands.

“She went to the Omega Kappa Beta party.”

Huh. I didn’t think Tara’d be one to enjoy frat parties but I guess she’s young and wants to try everything now that she’s in a new city and in college.

Sam doesn’t seem to agree though and it’s clear why Quinn was scared of her getting mad when she exclaims, “What? I begged her not to go to that!”

I want to tell her that it’s just a party, but she seems to haver her reasons why she doesn’t want Tara there, so I stay quiet.

Quinn sighs again. “And we’ve now arrived at mad. . .”

I try my best not to smile— Quinn’s actually pretty funny now that she’s not trying to sleep with me— and focus on Sam instead.

She seems ready to explode, but gathers herself by taking a deep breath and closes her eyes momentarily. Then she deflates and when she asks, “Do you know if she at least took her taser?” she sounds more worried than mad.

A taser?

Quinn grabs the wine off the counter and pushes the cork screw into the cork before twisting it and opening the bottle. “I cannot speak to how heavily armed Tara is at this fraternity party,” she says hesitantly which makes Sam huff in frustration and brush past me back to the front door where she grabs a taser from a dresser.

I follow her, knowing she’s going to go back out to look for Tara, and Quinn follows me with the now open bottle of wine in hand, ready to return to her not-boyfriend.

Sam eyes the taser for a moment, her jaw working and I move around her to grab her jacket off the hook for her.

Right as I reach for it though, Quinn says something that makes me freeze. “Oohh. Is cute boy shirtless again?”

My head snaps around so fast, it’s a miracle it doesn’t snap, and my eyes instantly land on what, or rather who, Quinn and Sam are looking at through the window. There’s a shirtless guy, seemingly my age or a couple years older in the apartment right across from us.

I have to admit, he is cute with his neatly trimmed beard and muscular upper body, and I even smile when Quinn’s not-boyfriend asks, “Who’s cute boy, babe?” and Quinn cringes, replying, “Always you. . . sweetie.” But that smile is quickly wiped off my face when I see the way Sam is looking at him.

Her eyes are soft and there’s something like longing written all over her face which feels like a sucker punch to the stomach.

This is why I keep my distance. . . She’s not mine and if she likes this cute boy, there’s nothing I can do about it. It’s not that I’m jealous, I’m just hurt and I’m once again reminded to keep my heart guarded.

But then Sam’s eyes snap to me and her face instantly falls and something like guilt flickers across her eyes, but I don’t dwell on it and avert my own eyes, staring at my shoes and fidgeting with Liam’s key in the pocket of my hoodie.

“You guys have been checking each other out for months, why don’t you just talk to him?” Quinn asks softly, and once again, it feels like I’ve been punched in the stomach.

Sam turns away from the window and I feel her eyes on me, but I don’t look up. “Because. . .” Her voice falters ever so slightly before going on. “That right there is all the romantic interaction I’m ready for.”

Once again a reminder that she’s not over Richie, and definitely not into me. . .

Out of the corner of my eye I see Quinn shrug and when Sam says, “I’m going to find Tara, you coming with me, Y/N?” I nod wordlessly without meeting her eye, and follow her out of the apartment after returning Quinn’s awkward wave.

I’m doing exactly what I planned on avoiding, which is being alone with Sam, but my worry for her going out alone outweighs my need to keep my distance, so I silently follow her down the stairs and outside where she pulls out her phone to look up the directions to the frat house.

I forgot you don’t like to share. . .

Quinn’s words suddenly echo through my mind and I frown because Sam and I obviously aren’t a thing, but before I can dwell on it too long, Sam nudges me and starts walking. “Come on, let’s go. The frat house isn’t too far from here, so we can walk.”

I wordlessly fall into step beside her, intent on not talking about what just happened, but she seems to have other plans because after we cross the street she turns to me with furrowed eyebrows and says, “You know, Danny and I aren’t a thing or anything. . .”

“What?” I know she probably means cute boy, but I wasn’t expecting her to say that. I thought they only knew each other because they live across from each other, but it seems as though they know each other better than that. Also, the fact that Sam is trying to deny that something is going on between them makes me believe there actually is something going.

Which is fine. . . Totally fine. She’s an adult and she can make her own choices.

“Y-you know,” she stutters. “The guy, Cute Boy, he and I, we’re not a thing. Not really— I mean we’re just—“

I stop dead in my tracks and raise a hand which makes her shut up and stop walking as well. “Why are you telling me this?”

She seems taken aback by the harshness of my tone and frowns, so I sigh and add, “I mean, I don’t tell you anything about my love life, so why are you telling me about yours?”

Sam’s frown deepens. “I just— I thought you should know— I mean. . . You’re my best friend.”

I scoff and before I can stop myself I say, “Am I though?”

“What?”

“Your best friend?” I clarify, ignoring how crushed she looks at the implication of my words. “We’ve barely spoken in nine months.”

“And whose fault is that?” she snaps back defensively. She crosses her arms over her chest and eyes me with a challenging glare.

I know she’s not actually mad, she’s just hurt and she’s put up her guard, so I deflate a little.

She’s right, it’s my fault we haven’t really talked since Christmas, but I’m not about to spill the beans and tell her why.

“Look,” I say softly. “Let’s not get into this now.”

“Why not?” she asks harshly. “Because you can’t just hang up if it gets too much?”

I cringe at that because lately every time she calls and asks what’s wrong I usually come up with an excuse to hang up or ignore her texts.

I shake my head and let out a deep breath. “Let’s just find Tara okay, we can get into this tomorrow.”

Sam bites the inside of her cheek and the storm of emotions in her eyes makes me believe she’s about to disagree, but then she huffs and turns around to continue leading our way to the frat house.

Long story short, at the party, Sam ends up tasing a guy who tried to drag Tara upstairs in the balls which in turn leads to Tara storming out with the rest of us— Mindy, her girlfriend Anika, Chad, Chad’s roommate Ethan, Sam, and me— hot on her heels.

“Tara, will you stop?” Sam says, sounding irritated as Tara continues to dash ahead. She’s short and has asthma, so she’s not going all too fast, but still. . .

She has yet to realize I’m also here, but I don’t want to get in the middle of what’s about to go down between her and Sam, so I stay back with the others, the twins having greeted me with quick hugs a moment ago before officially introducing me to Anika and Ethan.

“I cannot believe you did that! You embarrassed me!” Tara shouts over her shoulder.

“That guy was a dick. He was going to take advantage of you,” Sam argues and even though she’s right, that guy was really sleazy, she didn’t actually have to tase him. Also it looked like Chad had it covered, but I’m not about to get in the middle of this.

“So?” Tara stops abruptly and turns on her heels to face Sam.

The rest of us come to a halt a safe distance away, but I raise my eyebrows at what Tara just said.

“So?” Sam echoes incredulously, voicing my exact thoughts, but Tara is not having it.

“If I want to hook up with an asshole that’s my decision!” she shouts and even though she’s right, it is her decision, I don’t like the way she’s talking to Sam like she did something wrong by trying to protect her.

Sam tenses and I know what Tara just said hit a nerve, but she stays calm and simply nods dismissively. “Okay. . .”

Tara doesn’t seem to be done just yet though because she goes on, “I mean, you’re out of my life for five years and then you can’t leave me alone for five minutes.”

Yikes. She’s right, but. . . yikes.

“Because you’re not dealing with what happened to us,” Sam shoots back, her voice relatively calm. “Have you even gone to see the counselor once?”

“No, I’m not going to.”

“Why not?”

I sigh and share at look with Chad and Mindy who seem to be hating this just as much as me, if not even more because it sounds like this isn’t the first time the two sisters have been at each other’s throats.

Anika and Ethan just look uncomfortable and if it weren’t for the fight I’d laugh at how ridiculous they look, what with Ethan wearing Anika’s pumpkin hat and Anika wearing Ethan’s ridiculous cardboard helmet that matches his handcrafted chest plate.

“Hey, guys, come on,” Chad tries to step in at one point when Tara accuses Sam of living in the past, but he’s straight up ignored and I shoot him a pitiful look when our eyes meet.

They continue bickering, and even though I agree with Tara that we shouldn’t let something that happened to us for three days define the rest of our lives, I don’t like how she puts Sam on the spot in front of everyone by asking why she’s in New York with the rest of them.

After what feels like hours, they finally stop which is when, out of nowhere, a girl walking by yells, “Murderer!” and throws her drink at Sam.

Sam recoils and chaos erupts. There’s shouting and cursing, and a bunch of accusations thrown at Sam about God knows what, and I’m barely fast enough to rush forward and wrap my arms around her stomach from behind to prevent her from lunging at the girl who threw her drink at her.

Everything is over in a blur and before we know it the grill and her friends have left and the people who stopped and stood around to watch are moving on as though nothing happened.

I let go of Sam as soon as I’m sure she won’t do anything reckless again and step back, seeing out of the corner of my eye that Chad is also holding back Tara.

“What the fuck was that?” I ask, but no one answers and Sam even looks away as though she’s ashamed of something.

“Let’s just go.” Tara sighs and turns to leave, grabbing Anika’s and Chad’s arm.

Mindy frowns but agrees and is quick to follow them, leaving Ethan behind with me and Sam, who is currently trying to wring out her shirt.

“Hey, I. . . I have tissues if you want tissues,” Ethan offers kindly, pulling some tissues out of his pocket and handing them to Sam.

She wordlessly takes them and Ethan awkwardly looks between the two of us for a moment, obviously not knowing what else to do before hurrying after the others.

What an odd kid.

Sam dabs at her neck and hair where most of the drink hit her and she’s about to brush past me to follow the others as well, but I step in front of her and gently touch her forearm.

“Wait.”

Defeated brown eyes find mine, and the way she deflates when looking at me breaks my heart.

I have no idea what that girl and her friends meant when they called her a murderer and when they said she “knows what she did”, but now’s not the time to ask about it.

I take the used tissues from Sam and momentarily stuff them into the back pocket of my jeans so I have my hands free to unzip and take off my hoodie.

“Here, take this.” I hold it out to Sam, who simply eyes it with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Take off your shirt and put this on. I know how you hate it when clothes stick to you.” I wiggled the hoodie a little and raise an eyebrow until she sighs and takes it.

When we were kids I found out how she hates wearing wet clothes after pushing her into our pool after school once.

She wasn’t mad at first because it was summer and we both really needed to cool off, but then she got out of the water and her mood immediately turned sour.

She never explained why, but I knew it was because of her clothes clinging to her, so I never pushed her into the water again unless she was wearing a bikini or swimsuit.

“Thank you.” Sam’s small voice brings me back to reality and when I look up again I see she’s already changed into my hoodie. Her shirt is clutched between her fingers to the point where her knuckles are turning white, but I don’t comment on it.

She’s humiliated, sad, angry, and embarrassed, so all I say is, “You’re welcome,” before gesturing for her to lead the way and follow the others.

She lowers her chin in silent thanks again and starts walking, and I follow her after quickly darting over to one of the nearby trash cans and disposing of the tissues.

What a night. . . Maybe I should have stayed at Liam’s and watched some TV.

_______________________________________________

We’re in New York, people! And Ghostface is right around the corner. . .

Poor Sam, getting a drink thrown on her, but the way she clapped back at reader on their way to the party? Damn. . .

And Tara hasn’t even acknowledged reader yet hahah but it’s okay, they’ll talk in the next part.

Tag list: @bella423 @artrizzler19 @btay3115 @canyonyodeler @quadofthec @pussyydestroyer @rqizzu @pithod @morganismspam23 @idontliketoread2137

[obeymeshallwedateaddict]

Hello everyone!! This is the first lesson of the long awaited unofficial season 4 of Obey me Nightbringer written by yours truly <3

I will post lessons every 10 days.

I hope you enjoy it (it came out a little long but I hope it's not a problem)

Please make sure this finds other obey me lovers and people who don't want the series to end.

You can find more of my work here: Masterlist

@arie2faced wanted to be tagged so there you go!

Lesson 61: “Echoes of Change”

Preparations for the Grand Gala

The story begins with you and the brothers preparing for a grand event in the Devildom—the Infernal Gala, a highly anticipated celebration hosted by Diavolo to showcase unity and strength among the three realms. The brothers are busy with their individual tasks, and you help them throughout the day, making sure none of them are slacking off and checking the quality of their work.

Morning with Mammon

You find Mammon frantically trying to pick an outfit in his room, clothes scattered everywhere. He groans as he holds up a jacket, glaring at it like it personally offended him.

Mammon: “This stupid thing doesn’t fit right! What if I don’t look good enough? Diavolo’ll never let me hear the end of it!”

You: “You’re overthinking it, Mammon. You look great in anything.”

You pick up a sleek black jacket with gold trim from the pile and hold it up to him.

You: “Here, try this one. It suits you.”

Mammon grumbles but puts it on. When he turns to the mirror, his expression softens.

Mammon: “Huh. Guess it ain’t too bad… But y’know, it’s only ‘cause you picked it. You’ve got good taste.”

He pauses, scratching the back of his neck as he glances at you.

Mammon: “I dunno what I’d do without ya. Don’t tell the others, but… you’re my good luck charm, so stick close, alright?”

Afternoon with Leviathan

Levi is in his room, staring nervously at a stack of invitation cards. You peek in and see him pacing.

You: “Levi, what’s wrong?”

Leviathan: “It’s the Gala! There’s gonna be so many people there. What if I mess up? What if someone tries to talk to me and I freeze up?!”

You gently take his hands, grounding him.

You: “You’ll do great, Levi. And I’ll be there if you need me. We’re a team, remember?”

Levi calms down a little, a faint blush creeping up his cheeks.

Leviathan: “Y-Yeah, I guess you’re right. I mean, with you around, I don’t have to worry as much. You’re like my Player Two in this crazy multiplayer game called life.”

He hesitates, then smiles shyly.

Leviathan: “Thanks. I mean it. You’re, like… my favorite rare find.”

Library with Satan

Satan is in the library, scanning a shelf filled with ancient tomes. He looks up when you enter, a small smile playing on his lips.

Satan: “Perfect timing. I was looking for this.”

He hands you a book bound in emerald green, the title in golden script: "The Legends of the Infernal Gala."

Satan: “I thought you might like to know more about the Gala’s history. It’s fascinating, really—did you know it started as a peace treaty celebration?”

You sit together, flipping through the pages. At one point, your fingers brush, and Satan pauses.

Satan: “You always surprise me. You’re curious, thoughtful, and unafraid to stand by us—even when things get complicated.”

He leans closer, his voice softer.

Satan: “I hope you know how much that means to me."

Dressing Room with Asmodeus

Asmo is in his room, surrounded by a dizzying array of outfits. He twirls in front of the mirror, striking a pose.

Asmodeus: “Tell me, which one screams ‘absolutely irresistible’? This one, or…”

He switches to another outfit, beaming at you.

You: “They’re both amazing, Asmo. You always look stunning.”

Asmodeus: (grinning) “Oh, you always know just what to say. But you know what? I think I’ll wear something that complements you. After all, we’ll be the center of attention together.”

He steps closer, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

Asmodeus: “You have this way of making me feel… special. Like I don’t need to try so hard, because I’m enough just as I am. Thank you for that."

Kitchen with Beelzebub

Beel is in the kitchen, preparing snacks for the event. You help him arrange platters of food, the smell of freshly baked bread filling the air.

Beelzebub: “Thanks for helping. I usually just eat everything, but it feels nice to make something for others.”

As you finish, Beel offers you a piece of chocolate from the tray, his expression soft.

Beelzebub: “You’re always looking out for us. It makes me want to do the same for you.”

He smiles, his usual straightforward honesty shining through.

Beelzebub: “You’re like family to me… but also more than that. I’m glad you’re here.”

Attic with Belphegor

Belphie is lying on a pile of blankets in the attic, staring at the ceiling. You join him, and he shifts to make room.

Belphegor: “The Gala’s gonna be exhausting. Too many people, too much noise. But at least you’ll be there.”

He closes his eyes, his voice soft.

Belphegor: “You’re the only one who makes all this bearable, you know. Stay with me a while. Just you and me, away from everything else.”

You rest beside him, and for a moment, the world feels quiet.

Study with Lucifer

Lucifer is in his study, reviewing event schedules and security measures. He looks up as you enter, his expression softening.

Lucifer: “Ah, I was just going over the final details. It’s a relief to see you—you have a calming effect, even on someone like me.”

You share a quiet moment, the crackling of the fireplace filling the silence. Lucifer pours you a glass of Demonus, his movements elegant.

Lucifer: “The Infernal Gala represents unity, strength, and peace. But for me… it’s also a reminder of how far we’ve come.”

He gazes at you, his eyes filled with warmth.

Lucifer: “You’ve been a part of that journey. More than you realize.”

The calm shatteres

The next morning, you are in the gardens of the House of Lamentation, enjoying a rare moment of peace. The sky is a deep, rich purple, with faint stars twinkling above. Beelzebub joins you, carrying a tray of snacks.

Beelzebub: “You’ve been quiet today. Something on your mind?”

You: (smiling softly) “Not really. Just thinking about how calm everything feels right now. It’s… nice.”

Beelzebub: (sitting beside you) “Yeah. Feels like it’s been a while since things were this peaceful. Lucifer hasn’t yelled at anyone today, and Mammon hasn’t set anything on fire… yet.”

You both share a laugh, but before the moment can last, a faint tremor shakes the ground. Beel jumps to his feet.

Beelzebub: “What was that?”

A ripple of energy passes through the garden, and several flowers wilt instantly. The air feels charged, heavy. You feel a faint pulse from your pact mark, though you don’t fully understand it yet.

You and Beel rush inside the House of Lamentation, where chaos has already begun. Furniture is floating, magical items are malfunctioning, and the brothers are in disarray.

Mammon: (running around) “Somebody fix this! My wallet turned into a bat and flew off! That’s my life savings in there!”

Leviathan: (clutching his D.D.D.) “Do you know how many hours of gameplay I just lost?! This is worse than the Great Reset of Akuzon Prime!”

Lucifer: (trying to remain composed) “Everyone, calm down. Panicking will accomplish nothing.”

Belphegor: (yawning) “Wake me when this is over. Or don’t. I’m fine either way.”

You notice your pact mark faintly glowing whenever the chaos intensifies. Asmodeus steps in, looking alarmed.

Asmodeus: “Is it just me, or does the energy in the house feel… weird? It’s like something’s out of sync.”

Before anyone can respond, the chandelier shatters with a loud crash. Lucifer’s patience snaps.

Lucifer: “Enough! Everyone, to the Demon Lord’s Castle—now. Diavolo needs to hear about this immediately.”

Emergency Meeting with Diavolo

The group arrives at the Demon Lord’s Castle. Diavolo greets you all with a worried expression, his usual jovial demeanor replaced by a more serious air. Barbatos stands quietly by his side, his gaze sharp and observant.

Diavolo: “Ah, you’ve arrived. I trust you’ve noticed the disturbances, then?”

Lucifer: “Noticed is an understatement. The House of Lamentation is in complete disarray. What’s causing this?”

Diavolo’s expression tightens, and he motions for you all to take a seat.

Diavolo: “It’s more than just your house, Lucifer. The magical ley lines that run through the Devildom are experiencing unusual fluctuations. Spells are failing, spells are overloading… and the environment itself is becoming unstable.”

Diavolo remains silent for a short while before speaking again.

Diavolo: "Remember when a few months ago the Devildom moon begun moving closer to us? And how MC stopped it with the help of (name of the brother you chose in lesson 60)? I think it might be somehow related to all this.

Barbatos: (nodding gravely) “We’ve been monitoring the situation for the past few weeks, but the source remains elusive. The ley lines should remain stable, but we are seeing powerful surges in energy that we cannot explain.”

Simeon: (calmly interjecting) “It’s a troubling situation, indeed. I’ve been sensing something off as well, but I can’t make sense of it.”

Solomon: (looking up from his scrolls) “The balance between the realms is delicate. It’s entirely possible this disturbance has something to do with the convergence of magical energies—perhaps even beyond our realm’s control.”

Luke: (clutching his little angel staff nervously) “So... we’re all in danger?”

Mephistopheles: (snickering from the corner) “Well, that depends on what you call ‘danger.’ There’s always a way to spin these things to our favor, you know.”

Raphael: (stoically) “We need to investigate this matter thoroughly. If there’s a threat, we’ll need to handle it swiftly, for the sake of everyone’s safety.”

Thirteen: (suddenly appearing with a slight chuckle) “It’s always so serious when you guys talk like this. How about we enjoy the chaos a little bit?”

The group’s attention is drawn back to Diavolo, who remains focused despite the tension.

Diavolo: “We’ve heard your concerns. But I must ask, how does this all relate to the Infernal Gala? If these disturbances continue, it could be catastrophic.”

Lucifer: “The Gala is already under heavy scrutiny. If the realm’s stability is at risk, Diavolo, this could be a catastrophic blow to the reputation of the Devildom.”

Asmodeus: “Oh, I can’t imagine the disaster. The Gala’s atmosphere would be ruined if the magical energies continue to fluctuate like this. People will notice, and chaos would break out if they suspect anything is wrong.”

Beelzebub: (his voice low and serious) “If things continue like this, there’s a real danger of even the food and drinks being affected. Imagine the mess if everything starts malfunctioning at the event.”

Lucifer: “Exactly. And with all the high-profile guests we’re expecting… We must act swiftly.”

Diavolo stands up, his usual warmth replaced by a rare intensity.

Diavolo: “For now, I ask all of you to stay vigilant. If you notice anything unusual—anything at all—report it immediately. The Gala must go off without a hitch, for the sake of maintaining peace and stability. But we must also prepare for the possibility that something more sinister is at play.”

Barbatos: (calmly) “We will continue investigating, but please, if you feel anything strange—if there’s any oddity you experience—don’t hesitate to tell us. The more information we have, the better.”

Lucifer: (looking directly at you) “You, especially. I’m sure you’ve felt it, too. These disturbances seem… connected to you.”

The room falls silent again as all eyes shift toward you. You feel a weight settling on your shoulders, the pressure building.

Diavolo: (smiling reassuringly) “You’ve done well so far. But now, we must prepare for whatever comes next. The Gala is crucial, but our first priority must be understanding the root cause of these events. If there’s a connection between you and this instability… we’ll need to address it quickly.”

As you nod in response, a sense of foreboding fills the air. The once-bustling preparations for the Gala seem like a distant memory now, overshadowed by the uncertainty surrounding the disruptions.

A talk with Solomon

After the emergency meeting, you wander through the halls of the House of Lamentation, the weight of the situation pressing on you. The magical disturbances, the instability in the Devildom... you feel like you're on the edge of something bigger, but you can't quite grasp it.

A soft voice interrupts your thoughts.

Solomon: "You're still awake, huh? I figured you might be here."

You turn and see Solomon leaning against the doorframe, his usual playful expression replaced by one of concern. He steps into the hallway, his gaze never leaving you.

You: “I don’t understand any of this… It feels like everything’s connected, but I don’t know how or why.”

Solomon walks up to you, his footsteps slow and deliberate. He looks at you with a knowing look, as though he’s been waiting for this conversation.

Solomon: “I can see why you’re confused. The fluctuations... the disruptions in the ley lines, they’re not random. They’re a result of your presence here.”

You: (frowning) “My presence?”

Solomon: (nodding) “It’s complicated. There’s something about your connection to the brothers, your dual pacts, that’s causing the instability. It’s as if the power between you and them is... too much for the realms to handle.”

You feel a jolt of realization. The dual pacts. You hadn’t thought about the significance of them, but it makes sense now. Solomon's words seem to echo in your mind, each one a small revelation.

You: “So... you think the dual pacts are the reason this is happening?”

Solomon hesitates for a moment, then nods, his eyes serious.

Solomon: “I’m beginning to suspect that’s the case. The way your power interacts with theirs... it’s creating more energy than the ley lines can accommodate. It’s like a pressure building up, and when too much energy is focused in one place, the balance of the realms starts to break down.”

You swallow, trying to process it all. Your mind races through everything you’ve experienced—the strange pull of the pact mark, the disruptions, the growing tension. It all leads back to the pacts.

You: “But why now? Why is this only happening now?”

Solomon: (with a sigh) “It didn't start now. Actually it's been going on for a while now. Remember how the moon was getting progressively closer and closer a few months ago? I suspect that's also due to your magic. But for all I know the dual pacts were never meant to be this powerful. They’re an anomaly.”

You: “So, everything that’s happening... it’s my fault?”

Solomon: (softly) “Not your fault. But your presence, your bond with the brothers—it’s a key factor. I should’ve been more cautious. I knew the pacts were risky, but I didn’t expect something like this would happen.”

You feel your heart race as you try to understand the magnitude of what Solomon is telling you. The chaos, the disruptions... you feel like you’re at the center of it all, and it’s terrifying.

You: “How do we fix this?”

Solomon takes a step closer, his gaze softening. His hand gently rests on your shoulder, and you feel a comforting warmth from his touch.

Solomon: “We’ll figure it out. Together. The brothers... they’re linked to this too, and we’ll need their help. But we can’t do it alone. The dual pacts are too unpredictable.”

For a moment, you both stand in silence, the weight of his words settling in. The chaos, the stakes... it feels like everything is changing too fast. Yet, with Solomon’s presence, there’s a sense of calm. You find comfort in his understanding.

You: “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Solomon smiles, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes your heart flutter, though he doesn't say anything for a moment. He simply pulls you into a gentle embrace, holding you close, offering a silent promise.

Solomon: “You’ll never have to find out.”

You lean into his chest, the tension in your body slowly melting away. His heartbeat is steady against your ear, and for the briefest moment, the world outside feels a little more bearable.

Solomon: “We’ll fix this. We’ll make sure the Gala goes off without a hitch, and we’ll find the cause of all this. But until then... just know that I’m here.”

You look up at him, your voice quiet but firm.

You: “Thank you, Solomon. I don’t know how to explain it, but I feel like I’m... not alone in this anymore.”

Solomon’s smile deepens, and he leans in, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead.

Solomon: “You’re never alone, MC. Not with me by your side.”

The Pact’s Secret Emerges

Later that evening, while the brothers are asleep, you are drawn to the library by an inexplicable force. You find an old book glowing faintly on the shelf and open it. The pages are filled with ancient symbols you can’t understand. Suddenly, a familiar voice interrupts you.

Barbatos: (appearing silently behind you) “Curious, isn’t it? That book is one of the oldest records in the castle. It documents the nature of pacts and their potential… consequences.”

You jump in surprise, quickly closing the book.

You: “Barbatos! You scared me. I didn’t mean to—”

Barbatos: (smiling slightly) “You needn’t apologize. It’s no coincidence that you were drawn to this book.”

Barbatos steps closer, his gaze calm but piercing.

Barbatos: “Tell me, since your return from the past, have you noticed anything… unusual? A change in your magic, perhaps? Or a resonance with the brothers’ powers?”

You stiffen.

You: “What do you mean by ‘return from the past’? How do you know about that?”

Barbatos: (tilting his head slightly) “I am the steward of time. There are few events that escape my notice.”

Your eyes widen. You clutch the book tightly, unsure of how to respond.

You: “I… I haven’t told anyone except Solomon. How much do you know?”

Barbatos: “Enough to understand that your journey was no mere coincidence. It was necessary, though its ripple effects are only now beginning to manifest.”

You: “Ripple effects…? Are you saying all of this—the disturbances in the Devildom—are my fault?”

Barbatos: (softly) “Fault is a strong word. Responsibility, perhaps. But do not misunderstand—your presence here is essential. You hold the key to stabilizing the realm.”

Barbatos’ gaze sharpens as he steps closer, his voice lowering to a near whisper.

Barbatos: “However, I must warn you: secrets have a way of surfacing when the time is right. The truth will not remain hidden forever—not from the brothers, nor from yourself.”

He gestures toward the glowing book.

Barbatos: “Keep this between us for now. But be vigilant. The bonds you share with the brothers are deeper and more intricate than even you realize.”

After the encounter, Barbatos is in his room, standing over a magical map of the Devildom. Glowing lines represent the ley lines, which are flickering and unstable. He traces his fingers over the map, frowning as he notices a disturbing pattern.

Barbatos: (to himself) “The fluctuations are growing stronger, converging toward a single point. If this trajectory continues…”

He pauses, his expression darkening.

Barbatos: “…even the combined power of the brothers may not be enough to stop what’s coming.”

The map reveals the convergence point glowing ominously—a location deep within the Devildom that remains unidentified.

[yeonjunsvape]

vampire date: hoshi pt. 1

genre: angst (smut in pt. 2)

w/c: 2k

pairings: vampire!hoshi, female!reader

warnings: drinking, softporn

summary: vampire!hoshi meets someone for the first time who is disobedient to his orders and he wants to know her secret.

"i know i'm an hour late, my day hasn't gone great, i'll be there in 30." you hang up on your (with all the best intentions) overbearing, best friend.

not only did you wake up with a huge pimple on your face, but at work 2 people dine and dashed and you had to pay their bill. when your best friend suggested going to a new club in the city, all you wanted to do was deny and go to sleep, but then she started talking about getting plastered, which sounds amazing right now.

after finishing the final touches on your makeup, you grab your purse, and call an uber to the new club. (dont drink and drive 🔫).

"you're going to Le Chamber? i've been there once... bad energy." the uber driver spoke as he drove the car and you notice a crucifix around his neck. "bad energy?" you usually don't interact with strangers but since it's your first time going to the club, it peaked your interest.

"yeah, as soon as i stepped inside i felt something off, like an evil vibe." you end the conversation with a 'hum' and stare out the window to the mysterious club.

when you finally arrive, you pay the uber then head inside to meet your best friend, who is on the dance floor and already drunk.

she yells your name over the music and you run over, giving her a big hug. "here drink," she demands and hands you two shots of god knows what.

without hesitation you throw your head back, taking both of them down with a scrunched up face and start dancing with your best friend.

there was a cluster of rooms on the second floor of the club that people rented out for parties and as soon as you turn to get more shots, you see 4 strikingly handsome men walk down the spiral staircase.

you call out your order to the bartender but your eyes never leave the men as they walk with a synchronized stride, almost like they're floating. when they get closer, you can see their gothic attire and tattoos all over their bodies.

"8 shots of straight vodka." one of them with bleached blonde hair, says to the bartender who was currently making your drinks.

the bartender looks him in the eyes and without a word, drops your drink, making the mysterious man his instead. you scoff loudly, "hey, what about my drink?" you yell over the music and the bartender ignores you, eyes still fixed on making the 8 shots.

"thanks to this asshole, i guess chivalry really is dead." you mutter to yourself and the mystery man chuckles. "chivalry isn't dead, i can just be quite convincing when i want to be."

your eyebrow raised when him and his friends laugh at his stupid comeback but you were not only confused on how he heard you, but also on how you heard him so clearly over the music.

after a few hours and 10 shots in, you were on the dance floor with your best friend, dancing with random men you will never see again, yet you were having a blast.

the mans hands on your waist suddenly left and before you turn around to see what happened, you felt them back on your hips, moving your body to the music.

your eyes go to your best friend and see her now dancing with one of the guys from earlier and your head turns behind your shoulder to see the bleach blonde hair man.

"what are you doing here? where's the other guy?" you ask and pull away from his grasp. "well, you claim that i'm not chivalrous, but here i am, having a dance with you." you roll your eyes and cross your arms, "i'm done dancing, let's go [Y/B/F]."

the mysterious man grabs your arm in his big hand, staring straight into your eyes. "you will dance with me, then go upstairs later with my friends and i."

his eyes were a deep wine color which you thought was tacky and when he spoke you had a bored look on your face. "oh will i? because i don't think so."

he was stunned by your words and when you go to grab your friend she was clinging onto the other man. "[Y/N], i'm dancing with him, then going upstairs later."

your fight or flight kicked in and you grab her wrist so you could drag her away but the man held her tightly. "you will let her go with me, and you'll accompany hoshi later." again with the demanding with these guys, who do they think they are? at least you have a name to the bleach blonde hair man.

"i'm not accompanying anyone, and neither is she, we're leaving." your friend fights you off and gets closer to the man. "go home if you're going to be a downer [Y/N]."

you were offended your best friend trusted a stranger more than you, not knowing she was under a spell. "fine, i will, wear a condom perverts." (srsly guys, wear condoms: safe sex)

you storm out of the club, the music beat can only be heard from the outside and your steps were wobbly considering you were still drunk. "uber." you yell out to the air as if anyone could hear you.

hoshi follows close behind you and presses his lips together so he didn't laugh. "that's not how uber works, you actually have to use your phone." he reminds you and you nod, taking out the device in your pocket but everything was blurry.

"need a ride?" he finally asks after watching you struggle with your phone. "ew no, i know enough about you to know not to get in a vehicle with you." you were already a blunt person but it amplifies when you're drunk.

hoshi ignores your rudeness and steps infront of you, "can i see your eyes?" he asks and you look up at his wine eyes again. "let me take you home." he says in a serious manner and you start drunkingly giggling. "let me take you home." you mock then start walking down the street.

"why aren't you doing what i say?" hoshi was confused, no one in his many years on earth has ever disobeyed his commands. "because i'm a person with my own free will, sorry i don't fall for a handsome face like everyone else does."

he ponders scenarios in his head on how it could be possible for you to be immune to his orders, not realizing he's walking behind you. "can you stop following me?" you turn around, stopping him in his tracks.

"where do you live? you can't walk home this drunk." hoshi presses a button on his keys and a car alarm starts ringing. "my car is right there, let me take you."

you hum as you think and agree only because you lived 20 minutes away by car so if you walked it would take you about 7 hours to make it home.

his car looked like the batmobile from batman and when you got inside it, he drove off fast. it was such a thrill, especially with the windows down, "i feel like im flying." you yell and put your arms up. hoshi just laughed when he watched and his speed was so fast he made it to your home in 10 minutes.

you open the car door and hoshi grabs your wrist before you could get out. "i'm going to see you again, i hope." he gives you a smirk and you think about it. "perhaps... put your number in."

he does as you say, then let's go of your wrist. "see you around [Y/N], oh and i'll make sure your friend gets home safe."

"[Y/N], you're the most beautiful woman in this world." hoshi whispers in your ear, kissing your neck tenderly while he massages your breasts in his hands. "you're the most handsome man. i usually don't fall for men with faces like yours but there's something about you." you whisper back, unbuckling his belt buckle, and twirling your finger around his hard member under his boxers.

"fuck [Y/N]..." his moan sent electricity to your core, making your hips jolt up on him. "want me to fuck you?" he asks with a laugh and you nod, "yes please..."

your eyes shoot open when you hear a knock on your apartment door and realize hoshi in your bed was just a dream. "what a weird dream...." you whisper and fling yourself off the bed, opening your door to see your best friend standing there.

"you got home okay?" you ask and welcome her inside. "yes, minghao is so romantic, we spent the night together at my place last night." you cringe at the thought and put your hand up, "no details please. how are you up at 7 am with no hangover?" you raise an eyebrow, your head beating from drinking so much last night.

"minghao woke me up at 6 am and we got breakfast, i feel energized actually." you nod and plop on the couch, "i feel the opposite." she joins you and hands you a bag of donuts. "i brought you some."

you take it, grateful she thought of you, "i think i'm going to sleep more, i'll eat them later." your friend sits up and looks in your eyes, "come with me to minghao's house." she squints her eyes the same way hoshi did last night and you furrow your eyebrows. "i'm too tired, maybe later."

she sighed and pursed her lips, "he said that would work..."

"what would work?"

"oh-nothing, i can't say."

of course this enticed you more, knowing she was keeping a secret from you. "what would work?" you ask again and sit up, noticing her eyes darting away from you. "did you get contacts? they're the same shade as minghao and hoshi." you mumble and your friend bites her lip.

"can you keep a secret?" you scoff and take one of her hands, "of course you're my best friend.."

"they didn't say much... but minghao told me i was going to change from now on. also, he taught me a trick to get people to do whatever i want by looking into their eyes, but since it didn't work on you, i guess i cant do it."

you listen to her intently and stand, going to your bedroom to grab your phone.

[Y/N]: "come over... NOW!!"

you walk back in the livingroom and grab your friends hands, "we'll figure out what they did to you." you assure, giving her a hug.

5 minutes after you sent the text, hoshi knocks at the door and you answer with a hand on your hip. "you got here fast." he rubs the back of his neck and nervously laughs, "i was in the neighborhood."

you close the door after he walks in and lead him

to the couch, pushing him on it. "did minghao drug her last night?" hoshi looks at your friend and notices her eyes, putting his face in hands. "he's an idiot."

"either you tell me or i call the police." you threaten and hoshi stands up quickly, grabbing your phone. "the police won't help with this... we kind of control them."

"okay, then i'll call N.C.I.S." hoshi looks at you dumbfounded, "like the american tv show?" you clear your throat and nod, "i didn't think you knew that... i was trying to scare you."

"i'll talk to him about it, keep her inside, seriously, she can hurt someone." he mumbles and you scoff, "hurt someone???"

"fine... since she's changed, i might as well just tell you. she's a vampire." hoshi bluntly spills the truth and your jaw was on the floor. "i'm also a vampire."

[luvo27]

just so we're clear: the reason i used so many words to describe the steph &/ cass relationship in the fic that does not exist is because the theme of that nonexistent fic is about the wonderfully complex nature of aspec relationships and how language serves and also fails to accurately describe them and the way that the world can try to impose a type of relationship in an attempt to either understand or make more palatable what is not something that can be easily understood, and so boiling it down to steph/cass or queerplatonic steph/cass or steph&cass would go against what i'm trying to do, even if the fic in question literally does not even exist. so why am i still talking about this nonexistent fic?

this is an excuse to talk about my feelings regarding aromantic and asexual representation on ao3. (note that i say on ao3, and not in fandom in general because this is me talking about my specific personal experiences, which mostly take place through ao3)

BIG DISCLAIMER THAT I WENT BACK AND ADDED IN BECUASE THIS WENT OFF THE RAILS: this is based on PERSONAL EXPERIENCE and FILLED WITH MY BIASES and was written IN A HAZE. (that being said this is something i've thought a lot about over months if not years.)

that tiny disclaimer aside, it goes without saying that fandom as a whole is primarily motivated by shipping, and so fanfiction on ao3 is primarily focused on shipping as well. shout out to this one time i was in high school and reading fic and someone asked (with good intentions) what ship i was reading for, and when i answered none, they asked (again, with good intentions,) what the point of doing that was. this, as you might imagine, made me feel weird to say the least! anyways, go on ao3 and the majority of fandoms will have an m/m pairing in the top most written. go into a small number of fandoms, and an f/m or f/f ship will hold the top spot. (femslash in fandom is a completely different topic) how many fandoms have platonic relationships at the top?

anyways i got curious so working off the knowledge that i have i did some quick looks at a handful of different fandom tags. fandoms which had platonic relationships at the most popular that i expected: dream smp and teenage mutant ninja turtles (all media types). honestly i was a little surprised to see that platonic relationships were at the top for both batman (all media types) and batman (comics), and I was expecting umbrella academy to have a platonic relationship at the top, but it was actually Dave/Klaus! in dr who and related fandoms, there aren't any platonic tags that break the top 10. and ohoho, here's where we get into it: dimension 20's top written relationship was fig/ayda, followed by riz/fabian in second place.

luvo, why did you say here's where we get into it? well, i just talked about the way that fandom focuses on shipping over platonic relationships, but i'm here to talk about aro/ace characters! in ao3's advanced search, if you look for fics with 'asexual' in any category, there are as of 1/7/2025 a total of 67,515 works. looking up 'aromantic' in any category whittles it down to 26,845 works. out of the over 14 million works posted on ao3? (number pulled from wikipedia) these are small numbers, but IT GETS BETTER. if you click on the AROMANTIC TAG, the top written relationship in the AROMANTIC TAG is a SLASH SHIP. (Alastor/Vox, Hazbin Hotel at 533 works.) sort fics under the aromantic tag by kudos, and the first fic under the gen category instead of m/m or multi is the 6th work down, and overall, gen works account for 6,950 out of 18,413 works under the aromantic tag.

my point being, only a small number of fics written with platonic relationships add to aro/ace rep in fic, and following that, when aro/ace characters ARE represented, it seems to be...how do i put this...typically with a shipping lens?

let's take a step back. I want to ask the question of how many canonically aromantic and/or characters exist. just. exist. wikipedia has a decently respectable list of asexual characters in fiction, as well as a much shorter list of aromantic characters in fiction. quick disclaimer that some medias are not represented such as podcasts (jon magnus archives?) or ttrpg shows (riz gukgak?)

what i will point your attention to is: how many of these characters are made explicitly aromantic or asexual within the text of their media? answer: not a lot of them. the majority of these characters have their sexualities confirmed in behind the scenes type things, such as Victor's (Arcane) voice actor saying he's asexual in an interview, Lilith (Owl House) confirmed asexual? or aromantic? over a charity livestream and twitter, Max (Miraculous Ladybug) confirmed asexual in a tweet, etc etc. kudos to Todd and Yolanda (Bojack Horseman) for being confirmed asexual in the media they're portrayed in! these all taken from the asexual characters page, the trend follows in the page about aromantic characters: namely, that if characters are aro/ace, typically explicit confirmation of these identities takes place outside of the media they're portrayed in.

why is that important? because without an explicit confirmation, it makes it a lot easier for denial of these identities to occur. yes, maybe it was the intention of the creators, but look. once a story leaves the author's hands, it belongs to the audience and intentions often have little to no bearing. additionally, if you're reading this then you probably understand that people will also deny coding characters as being gay or bisexual without an explicit onscreen kiss or declaration or some such. and why is this important?

putting the pieces together: characters can be confirmed as allo lgbtq+ through physical acts portrayed explicitly in their stories. characters who are aro/ace, well. more often than not, they can't. they're relegated to being coded as such, and confirmation, no matter how strong the coding, can often be easily ignored or possibly never even heard of.

do not get me wrong, I GET IT. Characters exist in settings where they don't have the word aromantic, or maybe it wouldn't be in character for them to say it as such. I UNDERSTAND COMPLETELY. one of my most popular fics i've posted is about Riz Gukgak and his struggle with internalized aphobia. the words aromantic or asexual do not appear ONCE in the fic. In the sequel, A COMPLETELY DIFFERENT CHARACTER has to say the words, and RIZ NEVER ACTUALLY CONFIRMS HIS IDENTITY. I UNDERSTAND THE STRUGGLE.

let's continue down the riz gukgak train. here are the facts: a sizable number of fans of dimension 20's fantasy high would say that riz gukgak is heavily aro/ace coded, with scenes such as:

making up a fake partner ("Clearly you haven't been kissed yet." ... "Actually, I'm dating somebody in the Baronies." Fantasy High Sophomore Year, Sophomore Start, 1:26:55)

being told that he is afraid of his friends leaving him for romantic relationships, (“The years will go by, and everyone will find someone that matters more to them than you do.” - Fantasy High Sophomore Year: Fearful Symmetry, 46:24)

telling his dad that he doesn't want to have sex ("yeah, I don't know... it just isn't happening yet? Like, not even just the act is not happening yet, like me wanting to do it." "It's not happening?" "It's not happening yet. And my friends are all like, [whispered] super horny." - Fantasy High Sophomore year, My Green Heaven, taken from a conversation around the 33 minute arc)

additionally, in an adventuring party episode of a spinoff series, the seven, Brennan Lee Mulligan says that Riz is asexual. ("...in a scene, Murph's character lies about having a partner, like a romantic partner, because Riz is ace, is asexual." - Adventuring party, season six episode eleven at 31:22 )

with all the love to my friends over in the d20 fic server for hunting these quotes down for me. truly my life is made all the better by the d20 fic community in a way that i will never know how to describe

here are some more facts! late march of 2024, with the release of the episode Baron's Game, I was lurking around the fhjy tag on tumblr. given the nature of the internet, there was discourse about riz and his identity, or his lack thereof. apologies to my d20 friends reading this who i love a lot, my rendition of a summary of said discourse follows below:

"if he's only coded to be aro/ace, that doesn't make him actually so. Brennan Lee Mulligan isn't the person who plays Riz, and him saying that he's ace is in behind the scenes content for a different show. Additionally, he only says that Riz is asexual, not aromantic. And even if Riz is aroace, aroace people can still be in romantic and sexual relationships, or a queerplatonic one!"

"why does it seem like everyone is ignoring the fact that riz is aroace? Kristen Applebee's sexuality (lesbian) would never be erased to ship her with a guy, so why are so many people doing it to Riz? Writing Riz in queerplatonic relationships is inaccurate because he's shown to be uninterested in relationships resembling anything like romantic ones, it seems like people are only interested in writing queerplatonic relationships as an excuse to write aromantic characters in the ship dynamic they want to," etc, etc. you get the gist.

let's get something straight about my stance on what people can and can't do with fictional characters: you can do literally whatever you want forever. ship riz in a romantic and sexual relationship. don't. whatever. i do not care. i do not care. he's not real. he's a fake character. he is a character. he exists for the audience to do literally whatever they want with him forever. i'll argue for someone's right to ship this character in whatever way they want. if they go down i go down with them-

ahem. sorry. my overall stance on fan creation crept into this thing that's supposed to be about how aro/ace characters are represented in fandom. whoops.

no, but let's talk about that. so, my personal interpretation of riz gukgak is that he's aroace and both romantically and sexually repulsed. i'm fairly confident in saying that my interpretation is supported by canon. some of my friends interpret riz and fabian seacaster's relationship as a queerplatonic one and they write fic about it, and i've read some it it, and i enjoyed it a lot!! and their interpretation is also supported by canon!! some people will interpret riz as simply being a late bloomer! or demi! or whatever! and guess what!!!! this will also have basis in canon!!!! gasp. shock. it's almost like stories exist for a wide variety of people to interpret them however they want to and i'm back to my philosophy on how we interpret stories in general stay on task luvo this is already too long.

so. recap. there aren't a lot of aro/ace characters who exist. often, their sexualities are reliant on coding due to the nature of the identity, and confirmation if it exists is often found behind the scenes instead of in the media. relatively, there isn't a lot of aro/ace fic on ao3. within that aro/ace fic, there's often relationships tagged with the typically romantic and/or sexual slash.

let's talk about aro/ace characters written in relationships of the romantic, sexual, and queerplatonic variety. mostly the queerplatonic variety. look, the thing is that sometimes it's easier to write a good story explicitly about being aro/ace if it's also a story about finding a queerplatonic relationship. sometimes it's easier to write a good story about being aro/ace if it's a story about finding a romantic and/or sexual relationship. writing the story comes down to the same reason so many aro/ace people struggle to find their identities in the first place: how do you find something that isn't there? sometimes, you do that by focusing on what is there.

let's keep going down this train. there aren't a lot of aro/ace characters. there are a hundred million different unique and complicated ways to have a romantic, sexual, queerplatonic, or straight up platonic relationship. Every single story written about aro/ace characters in relationships of any kind will resonate with someone, whether that's the person who wrote it, or someone who will read it. people write fic about characters in queerplatonic relationships that are exactly like what would generally be considered a conventional romantic relationship, and the only difference is that the characters refer to it as a queerplatonic relationship. thinking ungenerously, maybe this fic was written by an allo writer who just wanted to write a ship. The thing about fanfiction and its growing popularity, is that i would put money on the fact that this has happened, and at least one aspec reader stumbled upon it and their mind was blown and they felt seen.

the first fic i ever wrote with an aroace character tag was 1.8k words, posted over a year ago, and quite honestly i don't think it's very good. i wrote a second fic with the same character tagged as aroace again almost half a year ago, and again, not one of my personal favorites. but I got comments on those fics where someone felt seen, and were happy that they got to see this character be aroace, and were happy to see that this character got a happy ending, if a nontraditional one.

and remember when i brought up the slash fic under the aromantic tag? if you look under the tag Queerplatonic relationships, at the time i'm writing this there are 14,400 works. 5,941 of those are gen, the rest fall into m/m, f/f, m/f, multi, and other. the thing is, there isn't a signifier for queerplatonic relationships. a lot of the time to indicate one, authors on ao3 will use &, /, or a combination, or whatever. the fact of the matter is that the words romantic, platonic, and queerplatonic are doing so much work to carry such a wide variety of how a relationship is expressed, and even if there was a symbol to indicate queerplatonic relationships, (which there are in some places. the comic fan fiction author archive uses ~ to indicate qprs,) there are a hundred thousand different ways for qprs to look like.

um so. i started writing this like maybe 2 or 3 or more hours ago and i don't even know if i have or have ever had a point and this is extremely rambly and not organized in the slightest, but if i do have a point, it's something like:

there aren't a lot of aromantic characters. there aren't a lot of asexual characters. there aren't a lot of aro/ace coded characters. there definitely aren't enough to encompass the incomprehensible number of ways that people can experience or express their identities, and there are never going to be. the human experience is too wonderfully diverse for that, and it's too difficult to distill into the pitifully small vocabulary we have. my point might be to touch grass. by which i mean, don't like don't read, and remember that people are just that: people, with lives and worlds and perspectives of their own, and some of them you will never be able to understand, and sometimes you're not meant to understand them, and they are deserving of love regardless.

[4klovver]

barista!matt walking cute!reader home after a long day at work

fluff, mentions of taking someone back to their apartment??, this is really cute and I had alot of fun writing it.

Late Nights

Its late. Later than usual. You’ve barely come in this week only once or twice. You can’t even remember all the days are blurring into each other, between meetings and deadlines and a whole sort of things you are beat. You walk into the cafe, oh how you have missed the smell and the table s. Of and of course Matt, you hoped he’d be in this late and just as you suspected you were greeted with that same grin you always gave you. You could see all his teeth paired with the thin toothpick poking out of his mouth. 

“Where have you been all week doll, I was worried you’d stop comin’ round.” Matt said to you already anticipating your order. 

But instead of your usual happy and cheery demeanor all you can get out is “Coffee please..” You pout at him so beat up and tired from the past week. He looks worried at your expressions his mouth slightly agape looking like he wants to say something. “M’sorry I’m just so tired this week has been insa-“ you are cut off but Matt turning on the coffee machine breaking the sound of the quiet cafe. 

“Well then we better get something hot in ya, can’t having you get sick on us ma.” hes making some hot beverage that you can’t recognize. His little ‘nickname’ he’s given you is leaving your cheeks a darker shade of red. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 

Eventually making your way over to your usual table slumping down into your chair instinctively takin out your laptop just to try to finish some things off. 

“Here I got you a nice hot chocolate and a nice warm croissant.” He takes a beat then sighs “You need to take breaks, if you get sick ill start to miss seein your pretty face everyday” He runs his tongue across his teeth and rubs his hand behind his neck. “I’ll leave it here, ok? Please you need to eat” 

As he walks back your met with the smell of a hot chocolate with marshmallows accompanying the top “Thanks..” Is the only thing that’s comes out before the warm liquid is met with your lips. 

You lose track of time as you reply to an endless sea of emails they start blurring into each other…. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 

“Hey, are you awake? Doll?” You are abruptly awoken by someone shaking your arm. The strong smell of chocolate gone and it seems like there’s some new chill in the air. 

“Uh, what? mmm yea.” You say sitting up and rubbing your eyes awake. “m’sorry, I didn’t mean to fall asleep I’m sure you have things too do” You shake off the rest of your sleepiness and start gathering your things shoving them into your bag as your face starts to flush from the accidental nap. 

“Woah, Woah slow down its okay, I only woke you up because I kinda have to close honey..I would’ve let you rest if it was up to me” You check your watch “10:01” damnit its really late, you wanted to finish more work. You see a strong arm come down and take away your cup and plate, a half eaten croissant on it and about a third of a hot chocolate, well at this point a cold chocolate left. 

“Just give me five minutes to stack the chairs and I’ll walk you home. Sound good?” He runs a tattooed hand through his hair as he tidied up. Before you could even protest he was already in the back room gathering his things.

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

You walked side by side down the street in comfortable silence slightly shivering under your huge winter coat arms folded over each other to try to trap the last bit of warmth you have. 

“You okay? Cold?” He looks down and you one arm grasping his bag the other in his coat pocket. His gaze doesn’t falter as he waits for your answer. 

“Oh no…noimokay” Said through chattered teeth as you rub your arms together. 

You weren’t even looking at him but you can feel his eye roll from a mile away. “Yea, you’re totally fine” with one swift motion he moves his pocketed hand over to your shoulder pulling you in close like it was the easiest things in the world. 

“Matt s’okay you don’t need to do this I’m fine” As if Matt were the space heater in the corner of your room you already started to warm up by his touch. 

“I couldn’t just let you freeze to death on the side of the road. Can’t lose my favorite customer can I?” Your heart swells at his comment not knowing how to interpret it. 

You look up at him to see him already looking at you, when you meet his gaze it doesn’t falter in the slightest only becoming stronger.  “I guess If I mean that much to you I can’t argue..” Flashing him a grin at the ridiculousness of your statement. In return Matt flashes you an identical one. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

After some chit chat walking in toe leaned into Matts warm chest you make it to your apartment. 

“This is me.” You stand outside the lobby door waiting to say your goodbyes and goodnights but Matt just looks at you confused.

“You really thought I wasn’t at least walking you up to your apartment. Im a gentleman after all” He rests a hand on his chest pretending to be offended. 

“Well, okay I’m on the 5 the floor so it is a bit of a trek” He rolls his eyes and looks off to the side. “Don’t say I didn’t warn ya” 

You two walk into the building, Matt trailing behind you as you lead him unto your apartment. Through the lobby and up the traitorous 5 flights of of stairs huffing by the end of it only to turn to Matt who is unfazed.

“It’s a shame they make such a pretty girl like you walk up all these stairs. My apartment is only on the second floor.” Was he insinuating that you should go to his apartment instead? You turn away getting your keys out of your bag fumbling with them to find the right one. “At least a pretty girl like me gets a good view.” 

You unlock your door and turn to face him immediately meeting his eye contact. You stay there for what feels like forever just gazing into his light eyes that reflect the moonlight casting in from the window outside. His eyes falter down to your lips and back up to your eyes then back to your lips again. He looks deep in thought until a car passing outside pulls your gaze off of him. 

“So I should let you get goin’ gotta get your beauty rest.” You look back to him as he nervously adjusts his coat getting ready to leave. 

You smile at him, Stepping closer to him hands behind your back you press a small peck to his cheek leaving a small lipgloss shine on him. 

“Thank you for walking me home Matt.” He took a second to respond looking shocked then his lips curved into a grin. 

“Goodnight get some rest pretty girl.” He smiles at you then starts to walk down the stairs “I better see you tomorrow!” He yells as he walks down the stairs leaving you leaning on your door smiling to yourself. 

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･. Thanks for reading bye byebye °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･.

more barista!matt x cute!reader

[apeninastory]

ivan as a tragic-love character (pt.4a?)

DISCLAIMER: doing this for fun + because i love ivan + because my brain needs to. nothing abt it is carved in stone and i'm open to discuss abt it like adults do - i just excitedly wanted to share my take on ivan in a more articulated way.

OF COURSE i have to. of course. i managed to listen to nowhere a couple of times on the 31st and i won't shut up abt the new song anytime soon - especially since it's coming out AGAIN in a couple of hours!!!!! sit tight, this is gonna be a long ride.

let's break things down a bit, because i need to process the entire thing and this means i have to make lists and explain and ponder on what i write then fix it and keep writing and whatever

1] ivan's past 2] ivan's adoption by unsha + wife [or, a symbol of love for a character who deems himself unlovable] 3] ivan at anakt, with other characters 4] mimetic strategy 5] ivan and till [cheer up?] 6] the making of ivan's character - by ivan himself 7] meteor shower [or, the turning point of the narrative] 8] sua, hypocrisy and how it may not have been totally intended on ivan's part - until it was 9] nowhere 10] black sorrow 11] ivan, love and his shallow emotion 12] cure

i'll start here with the first 4-5 points

let me say i have no access to the patreon stuff, so what i know is based on: twt, original material on yt, twt again, ppl's fan arts and talking and my own delulu brain. also, i love ivan, so i may be not-totally-reliable on certain things, but you got the idea.

1] ivan's past.

what i know is that he lived in the slums - so filth, violence, a life dominated by a perpatual sense of insecurity (and with this i mean a lack of stability related to survivability, not strictly personality-wise), poor health and poverty was probably ivan's dailiness.

he wasn't alone - there were other kids, they probably lived all clustered togehter - for warmth, protection, complicity, company? also maybe, just like till and his provider/mother, they belonged to some sort of human factory, only this was probably illegal, given the differences in conditions. what we can infer is that life for him was far from violence-free; that ivan knows how to light a fire with rocks from his life in the slums, probably to fend off the cold; that he got used to insults, denigration, mistreatments as something that is part of his daily life.

this routine shapes his view of the world - as something dangerous, where one needs to be practical if they won't to survive, where misbehaving leads to death. it also shapes the way he sees himself, highlighting flaws more than his value and merits.

that being said, did he know abt the "cries"? abt how precious human singing is to aliens? i am honestly not quite sure abt this, but i guess he didn't. if he was "produced" in an illegal factory, it was probably only for the sake of becoming an anonymous pet-human - we know not all of them can sing in alien stage.

what we identify as an abusive, brutal, cruel treatment (objectively speaking) was ivan's daily life. his perception of it is inevitably different from ours/how it would be perceived from an external pov - or to be more exact, from an unaltered (?) pov.

[no wonder the song sounds so laidback, resigned - he is used to it.]

once deemed ready/aged enough (?), the kids are taken away, ready for auction - i guess. they probably tried to run away together, helping each other out

[though i wonder: i'd say they can identify other kids as good/comrades and aliens as bad/captors, but from various illustrations, they seems to live in the streets, albeit possibly controlled by aliens all the same. do they have enough food for everyone? is it evenly distributed? i guess not. so not all kids maybe saw each other positively. maybe they even betrayed each other for the sake of survival. poor babies...]

i was saying. they probably tried to run away. we see it in r3, glimpses of pre-anakt ivan. we know ivan is good at escaping/evading alien guards, and he must have picked it up somewhere (the hard way, since he was clearly captured here). here, they are taken away from the slums (?) to the auctions place (?), where ivan then gets adopted by unsha.

i'm guessing the alien here is threatening him to behave - they shouldn't rough the kids up too much, or else they'd be hard to sell, right?

what i find heartbreaking here is how ivan looks tired and resigned. he is so little and he must have experience so many negative inputs. he is so used to it that he is not even watching the alien - his eyes are focused on the sky. i guess it wasn't much visible from the slums, so it may be the first time? and he sees meteors.

now, for someone living in such a dark environment (both figuratively and concretely), falling stars must have been so touching, so beautiful, yet so painful - for being so far and so gorgeous and making him feel moved.

it's like when we listen to a beautiful song or see a wonderful painting or read a book that touches our souls - art does that to you. it's a selfless form of love, something left by someone else, a gift. of course there are tears in his eyes, falling stars are a wonderful sight for everyone, so i can understand ivan being awestruck by it.

[he sees the stars and maybe his little kid heart starts hoping? but then aliens treat him like an object, like an either-you-behave-or-it-won't-end-well and he starts to believe that an existence like his is destined to violence/negative things]

he must have partly feel frustrated, right? different emotions at play, all at once, can be overwhelming. he has tears in his eyes while he his held by the alien and suspended on empty air, he must also be scared, but in a very resigned way. no wonder he numbed is heart down.

2] this leads us to his adoption and unsha.

i guess ivan's demeanour fit unsha's plan - calm, smart, self-sufficient, not demanding in terms of attentions. the fact that he can sing must be a plus, and unsha is nothing but a business-alien, so he invests in ivan.

ivan's commodification starts right at his adoption.

as far as i know, he is adopted as a gift to unsha's wife for valentine's day, which "becomes" his birthday. we don't even know when he is actually born, which is so sad i wanna bang my head somewhere.

he becomes the object of someone else's marriage, a symbol of love without being at the receiving end of that form of affection. he probably doesn't know what love is, nor has he supposedly heard of it, so again, what he doesn't know remains far from his knowledge (but not from ours).

ivan represents love but does not benefit from it, emotionally. what he gains from it, is a "better" or more stable living environment. ivan has learned to be practical, we said, so he sees how having a roof on his head, food in his stomach and better sanitary conditions are all logical reasons to keep playing to unsha's tune despite him being an alien. we see him behaving - a party is thrown for him (fan meeting info: we know parties are thrown for his birthdays by unsha), he wins some sort of award (?), he practises singing.

all with the same, numb-like expression. he does how he is told and he survives. that's the end of the deal.

3] here comes anakt, friendship and love.

now. what forms of affection could ivan have come to know up to this point? a comradery-like sort of family in the slums? if that's the case, it should be a co-dependent/independent type of relation, where all the kids depended on each other to survive but were aware of being ultimately on their own - until someone either died or betrayed or got taken away. so it was born out of desperation and to fend off loneliness.

ivan doesn't know what healthy love is. doesn't know how it is to rely on someone completely and then slowly learn to stand on your own feet and become a person upon whom others can rely. doesn't know how to balance his need for someone's closeness while respecting the other person's indipendence. no such things have been taught to him in the slums - no adult, healthy humans were probably in his life (long enough?) to pose as models.

teachers at anakt were worried about him not being able to form relationships with others (i think this info is in the public diaries from anakt garden?), and there are comments of anakt kids not having many info abt him or not knowing how to approach him.

4] so what changes? ivan starts to imitate his peers' way of socially interacting with each other

kids in anakt are not like the kids in the slums. they live "healthily", they study and develop skills, they create bonds, they play in the garden - it seems like the perfect receipt for a "normal" childhood, though we know what hides beyond the system. but it is the first time ivan experiences all this, and with his life-baggage? seeing how carefree many children are there (mizi, for example), how can he not notice how different him and them are? what comes natural to others is foreign to him.

he is not the only one to notice. aliens probably criticized this of him, forcing him to train how to smile to appear more friendly and child-like. ivan was not used to kids his age being carefree, so it must have been hard for him to approach them and appear approachable. he inevitably links his ability to make himself liked to how friendly and natural his smile looks, so he practices alone. what else? i already said this in my analysis of black sorrow, but i think that in order to fit in, ivan observed other kids and tried to imitate them.

the problem was that while they behaved spontaneously, ivan's reaction must have seemed forced, especially in the beginning. he sees everyone doing this funny thing stretching their lips that lightens their faces, as he is "taught" during medical experimentation. he tries, he trains, and slowly, he integrates. he becomes good at studying, he obeys and notices positive results in himself, adult aliens like him, his values as a commodity in his business relationship with unsha increases.

he is usefull, skilled, liked. eyes are on him, but he has grown numb to it all - out of survival instict. in the slums, he probably tried not to attract too much attention, so studying to be a performer and be good at it must require a certain effort to adapt. what helps is probably the fact that all the other children were going through similar things, so by observing them, just like he does with his smiling exercises, he knows he can learn. he can become better, become more useful, ensure himself good chances of survival.

5] and then, his heart stirs.

i don't think it was love at first sight - let's not reduce this to love, for ivan and alnst characters offer us a whole spectrum of emotions.

ivan is too pragmatic for that, and his love - his obsession - for till seems to spark and then grow the more he observes him. at the beginning, it is not even abt affection, imo. no, it's that all children have rules to follow and routines to abide to, even the painful ones, but there is this cute boy with fiery teal eyes raging against the darkness, shining the brightest when he lets emotions consume him, and ivan can't stop looking because he is gathering data observing others and trying to be like them. and he can't understand till.

i feel like crying if i think abt how much till must have affected little ivan, to the point that we know he associates till with the most beautiful thing he saw right after coming out of the slums - falling stars. there is something painfully romantic abt it, which also enforces the narrative of ivan self-assigning the role of the tragic-love character to himself.

[after all, none of them knows love. no, none of them knows how articulate and complex love is, they probably only know scattered definitions coming from books aliens have abt humans behaviours and traditions. ivan likes literature. he probably read abt love there, and lacking the direct experience of family-love or other healthy forms of love, he can only research what love may be about from there and from what surrounds him]

so till comes into his life and, like ivan does with everyone else, he observes him. till behaves in ways that go against the norm ivan had come to know, accept and adopt as line guide. ivan has all the reasons to categorize till as annoying; despite that, despite being aware of what makes till different and a stranger to the model ivan built in his head, he finds himself drawn to him. we could say that till is one of the most important sparks of humanity lighting up inside ivan.

[i think people whose emotions are numbed/strictly controlled by rationality tend to be interested/attracted (not romantically or sexually, or not only) by those who are fiery and open abt them, like puzzle pieces that fit together.

what we see in black sorrow speaks abt the inevitable attraction ivan comes to feel for till. that this emotion, for ivan, becomes love, is another matter, because not everything needs to be read as romantic. but before that, we see kid-ivan finding in kid-till something that is worth his attention and devotion - something that easily becomes ivan's light in the dark.]

i think one of the reasons he liked orbiting around till is that till doesn't care abt him pretending, abt his perfect smiles, abt the things he has to fix in order to be approachable to other kids' eyes. no matter what ivan does to rile till up, till doesn't let ivan fool him.

i imagine getting till's attention must have been hard, for ivan. till feels to me like a love-at-first-sight character, so he may have fallen in love with mizi the moment he saw her, not perceiving ivan's gaze on him. when till watches mizi and sua playing with flowers and wants to do the same, ivan probably didn't think much abt trumpling on the flower crown - he just wanted to attract till's attention. he suceeded. violence + riling till up seems a good receipt to achieve what ivan wants.

he keeps doing that, and with time, he understands when he can push and when he has to stop. he realizes how much more sensible than him till is, and i think he learns to cherish this side of till, as well as make it a part of himself. ivan becomes gentler. that is probably why he offered a truce at a certain point (thank you vivimeng fan meeting drawings!!), saying to till that he found it annoying to always have to measure his force to avoid hurting him too much.

loving till starts by trying to imitate him. ivan observes him, knows he can't be like him, reacts to till in unexpected and hard-to-control ways, and feels emotions that are entirely his own. for someone who had grown numb to his surrounding, how strange and terrifying and exciting must have been!

he cheers flower up fully knowing it is useless, imitating and humoring till - and then does the same, spontaneously i'd say, during the interview preceeding his doom and in the room where he finds till before r6, nuzzling till's face tenderly, trying to cheer him up. ivan imitates, absorbs and delivers - but only with till, it seems, he finds himself doing things more spontaneously, uncalculated, things that are not much logical or beneficial to him.

[growing up, maybe he thinks that's love, tries to label it as much, but feels like his emotions lacks the pureness and intensity of mizi and sua's love, so he thinks he can't call it that - instead, he goes for "shallow emotion"]

PART 2

[themagicoolcat]

sorry for my lateness in responding to this but thank you so much for the contributions oh my gosh!!

i love your labelled diagram of all the actors i definetily was going to struggle with finding those odd ensemble kitties trying to dig around for the names. it's also nice to see that we do actually have a cat that's cassandra which does obliterate my jellicle theory of jordy's cat being cass but i don't mind because at least i was aiming in the right direction and the production still has a) cass and b) a really cool design for cass. i'll try and see if i can dig a name up for gus' actor considering that featuring gus the theatre cat the song seemed to appear frequently in the promotional descriptions for the production i don't doubt they've said gus' actors name somewhere!

it's nice to see the great rumpus cat in the production! despite having an image from the show featuring rumpus i completely forgot about him. with this confirmation of rumpus cat's existence it actually explains some images which i had initially deemed to be part of the gumbie cat number due to the use of some props (i'm not exactly sure if the production featured the cats doing the beetles tattoo or the cats cleaning the junkyard under the instruction of jenny) that i know realise are probably from the battle of the pekes and the pollicles! also having an unmasked appearance of the rumpus cat as one of the ensemble cats there are four possibilities as to who this cat could be outside of playing the great rumpus cat during the battle of the peakes and the pollicles. most often it's the tall ensemble cats who are cast to double as the rumpus cat and depending on the production it could be alonzo, plato (unlikely in this case because of tori-cat) or george! there could also be the possibility that the perth/mandurah production took the shiki cats initiative and has an ensemble cast member called rumpus cat. whatever that case may be it's a win for the few males in the show!

i would like to give a personal thank you for solving my victoria confusion because it never would've dawned on me that that could be avie's drag persona. it makes absolute complete sense that it's the same person!

i am so incredibly intrigued by this tori-cat to plato transition. femme!platoria is so real to me now i absolutely love this information and will be drawing fanart of the pair. this also makes a whole lot of sense to the facebook comment i quoted, it was not in fact a piece of social context that i was missing it was a piece of the show lore. it makes a lot of sense why they'd have assigned the roles of the tom ensemble cats to the mollies of the ensemble because well, it's a female dominant cast, and just knowing of tori-cat plato fills me with joy. as much as i love calling her tori-cat (which i will still most likely do out of affection for her character) it's nice knowing she has true name!

i don't know a whole lot about the art of aerial performance arts but a quick search and video or too of what an aerial cube is has made me come to the conclusion that that's cool as hell and perth/mandurah bomba is even cooler for doing that as well silks. no idea where in the show she's preforming this by the way (the leading theory is the jellicle ball now that taking over the platoria dance is out of the question because tori-cat is plato) but she's cool as hell!!!

oh sick we love a transition!!!

i love the fluffy coats of this production but i can only just begin to imagine what a nightmare they would be to preform in during any time of the year. preforming in the jellicle ball for 10 minutes straight in coats like those doesn't sound very fun. i can also see them being removed as a safety precaution as the long coats could become a hazard while dancing as an actor could trip or fall or get seriously injured or again overheat. it's the same reason why when misto changes from his ensemble costume in productions to his costume for his number his tail becomes shorter (notably loosing the white tip also) as it could be a hazard for the preformer during the number with the amount of tricks and spinning misto does during his number. it's much like how they wouldn't get old duet to preform any form of heavy dancing during the show because of his massive coat that he wears and also because he's really old, kind of irrelevant to my point, if they were to get the performer for old duet do dance he wouldn't be wearing the big coat he'd be in his ensemble outfit seen at the start of the show.

the promotional material for cats perth/mandurah is odd because even after they had started preforming and had their professional photos shot for the show they were still using the shots from their early promotional materials with the early costume designs. i'm really not sure why they continued to use the beta designs after the fact but they did and i love the early costume jemi and jenny they're very silly. that's also a neat thing to know for future reference that it was joanna appearing as jenny in the promo materials! i love the jemima design the most out of any design in the production so i'm very glad she got to keep her coat!

thank you thank you thank you for the misto telethon link!!! i hadn't scene the clip before it's a shame they were adamant on showing everybody but misto but i love it nonetheless!! another one for the collection!

hi i know you had posted about perth cats back way back in march but i was wondering if you knew anything more about the production? i’ve went down a rabbit hole trying to figure out who is what cat and who plays who using your list as a base to go off of and several hours and a good little stockpile of images later i still haven’t found anything more.

what i have found though is jemima’s actor’s full name is charlotte louise, victoria’s actor was an actor called avie grey (though i don’t know what cat is victoria) and other actors of unnamed cats include: lisa williams, tori brown, ella tweedle, rebekah wilson, lavina monk, caitlin atherton, jordy andrews and jaxon coke (all found through tagged images and birthdays posts by platinum productions on facebook) i can provide images of each of these unnamed actors so there is a cat face to attach to them just not any names still - @themagicoolcat

Not weird! I haven't looked much into Perth lately but I took another peek around with the names you listed. I didn't find much (but I did stumble upon some of those birthday posts you mentioned, I don't know how I didn't find them the first time).

It looks like Avie Grey played the clown cat, so if she's Victoria that means Vicky is the clown?

Plus Tori Brown would then be straight-haired pink cat, but I didn't see any names for that character.

I did find some of costume pictures of Sooz Bennet/Bennett? who plays Skimble, so based off of my (poor) sense of facial recognition, I think the orange long-haired one is Skimble

(Ignore the crazy person pin board vibe of my notes lmao)

Only other thing I really came up with is that I think (think) Tara Lynette Elliot mightve been on the production. Specifically and only bc she's been employed by the same company for other musicals + she looks a hell of a lot like the half pink-half orange jacket cat, which could mean nothing but I'm choosing to believe.

Given that it seems like none of the ensemble characters have ever had their names posted (by official or cast accounts) I honestly wonder if theyre just not named characters. Notably this cast skews heavily female, and quite a few of the usual Cats ensemble characters are male. So it's very possible that they just weren't named if their role wasn't 1-1 to some replica character's role (Demeter, Bomba, Victoria, etc).

I feel like the cast members would say something in the caption alongside a picture of their role ('had fun playing Alonzo in Cats this year!' or whatever) if they did have names and yet I have yet to come across anything of the like. Which is the lame disappointing answer unfortunately, but this production wouldnt be the only nonrep (or rep honestly) with a handful of unnamed ensemble or swing characters.