#I might as well at least let him have a bastard hour as a treat

[doberbutts]

Thank you for making the schindler post, it perfectly illustrates why I hate the way people will act like people who hurt others (like active nazis and racists) aren't capable of regular emotion and thought. Second chances are often seen as bad when it comes to violence and crime, but if you never give someone the chance to change, form different opinions, or see the damage they or their associates have caused, they'll just keep taking the path of least resistance, keep following orders. I just want people to take a serious look at a nazi who changed his mind. There is nothing inherently evil about anyone, there are only moral and immoral choices.

It helps, I think, to understand that he did not join the nazi party because he hated Jews. Even what research I did on the real man said that for the most part his reasons for siding with Hitler were purely economical. And, as I've said before, Hitler did not start with "I hate Jews let's kill them all" but with "look how bad the economy sucks! And who is doing well while the economy sucks? The Jews. That means they're the ones behind making the economy suck!" to get people on his side.

I think Schindler did have some internalized antisemitism. How could he not? He thought of the plan to use almost exclusively Jewish slave labor as good business sense. Cheaper than Poles, more desperate for the work and thus less likely to complain about conditions or quit, can't fuss about wanting wages or better hours, what's not to like? Supposedly his workers were treated well. I don't know if that makes it particularly better. I wonder how his workers felt, staring at the emblem proudly pinned to his jacket, knowing it stood for the extermination of their entire people.

I wonder if any of them ever considered it might be a trick. An elaborate long game to get them to trust and slip up. To get them to reveal the hiding places and secret messages and the others striving to find or make a way out.

I think the movie played with that concept a little bit, when the character of Stern (who apparently was 3 different real guys rolled into 1) is portrayed as always being a little standoffish and cold to Schindler until close to the very end. He was afraid of him. Schindler held not only his life but the lives of all of the people working there (plus more, irl) in his hands. He rubbed shoulders with high ranked officials and knew personally more than one known sadistic bastard that actively got off on murdering Jews. All it would take is a single word and it would be more than just those in the factory who died.

But then the ghetto was cleansed. In history, Schindler had advance warning and made his workers lock themselves in the factory overnight to spare them. In the movie, Schindler did not have warning, and saw the chaos from atop a vantage point as he'd meant to pass by.

Either way, both in life and in film, that was the line. He was, at minimum, willfully blind and passive to the evidence of what was happening up to that point. Once he couldn't deny it, he put his foot down and said, no more. I'm not doing this. I can't save everybody but you aren't getting your hands on anyone in my charge. Put me in jail if you have to. This is wrong.

He had everything to gain by continuing to look away. In the movie, Stern says something to the tune of "you'll have to hire Hungarians and Poles. They cost a little more but you'll still be rich" when they're both faced with Hitler's final solution. No more cheap Jewish labor when they're all dead, after all. It is at that point that they come up with the list- to get as many Jews as possible out of Germany before they're all sent to their deaths. He could have just said "yeah, sorry. I tried". Stern even more or less gave him permission to do so, like he was expecting it.

But he didn't. He said no fuck that, it's bullshit. It's not happening. I'm not letting it happen. They can arrest me or kill me if they want but if I'm alive for it I'm not just going to stand back and watch.

But I think it is difficult for people to grapple with that level of complexity. Not everyone he saved thinks he was overall a good person. His motives were not always pure. In fact many times his motives were just about lining his own pockets. But when he saw atrocities happen, he put his foot down and refused to participate. Even at his own cost- he had the equivalent amount of money back then as would be needed to retire early nowadays from his factory labor. He spent it on bribes and rations to keep them safe. He went to jail several times for refusing to back down. He risked his own neck by networking with other factory owners to get them to do the same. He could have been executed for this at any point. Nazis loved public spectacle executions for traitors and for collusion with Jews.

He wasn't a perfect ally. But I think I'd rather an imperfect ally do whatever they can to help, than no allies at all.

[cuddlyscribe]

Hello! I hope you don't mind but may I request fem or gn dating headcanons (sfw & nsfw) of Hwoarang, Steve Fox, and Forest Law from Tekken please? - 🌱

🌱 anon??? you are speaking my language!! some of my fave tekken characters here and so underrated! hope you enjoy! ❤️

[TEKKEN MASTERLIST]

sfw

Dating Steve Fox is very similar to what it would be like to date a celebrity. He's been in more than his fair share of Iron Fist tournaments, and was well known for being a boxing prodigy well before that.

You get to enjoy all the trappings of dating a famous athlete, all of which is enhanced by the fact that Steve just naturally wants to spoil you rotten.

And if you knew Steve before he became a boxing champion, you know that that's always how he's been; doesn't matter if he had two million dollars or two dollars, he is treating you like a queen.

Plus he's just such a gentleman. You will have people turning heads with the way he treats you.

Steve will literally carry you over a puddle because he doesn't want you to worry about messing up your shoes, or encourage you to talk about things you're passionate about in public so he can show off to other people how amazing you are.

If you want a man that's gonna be obsessed with you and everything you do, Steve is the one you want.

nsfw

Despite how intimidating he might look on the outside to everyone else, Steve is such the ultimate softie. Like the kind to pour his soul out to you while he's hitting it from the back.

It might be an unpopular opinion, but I think Steve is a bit of a sub. And if not a full-blown one, then at the very least he's got to be a switch.

Steve has been on his own for most of his life and hasn't ever gotten the chance to fully relinquish himself to anyone, to let himself release his control and his fear.

Being submissive with you means not being afraid anymore, and he trusts you so much to show such a side of himself.

He also is a NOISY guy... Like all my people that love a man that moans in their ear? Steve does that and then some.

Steve is also the master of begging; good luck holding out for even a fraction of a second against this hunk of a man on his hands and knees, desperate to taste you at any cost.

sfw

Arrogant, snarky Hwoarang. The bastard is irresistible, really, once you really get to know him. Chances are you'll hate each other before that happens, though.

He loves to annoy you with his constant flirting, always standing just close enough to watch you squirm and blush. And being as tall and broad-shouldered as he is, he figures it's easy to get you flustered.

For my friends that are masters of banter, you're in luck. Hwoarang can take as much as he gives, so go all out. He loves seeing you get fired up, especially if it's directed at him.

When you're dating, Hwoarang just soaks up your attention. When you're talking to him, spending time with him, he simply cannot get enough of it. It's like an addiction.

Expect him to get a bit pouty if he's not the center of your attention for a bit. He won't be toxic about it, of course, but he will give you puppy dog eyes for as long as you can stand it, which he bets will not be long at all.

nsfw

Hwoarang being cocky translates perfectly to the bedroom. The man is a dom through and through and he loves it. But particularly being the caring, loving dom that emphasizes aftercare.

He will fuck you for hours and hours, until you feel like your legs are jelly and your thighs burn, and Hwoarang will have energy to spare. What with his kind of stamina and enthusiasm, he knows you're sure to be tuckered out.

Let this man pull your hair because you will love what he does. It's a gentle but firm tug, one that burns ever so slightly but adds an extra layer of feeling. It will have your eyes rolling into the back of your head.

He also loves giving you the illusion of control. You can ride him and let him eat you out, boss him around even, but Hwoarang knows that he can instantly be the one in charge because he knows your weaknesses so well.

But cleanup, getting water, all the kisses and cuddles, Hwoarang has got it covered. He knows he can be rough, and the least he can do is take care of you with all his heart afterwards.

sfw

The polar opposite of the initial Hwoarang Experience™️, getting to know Forest Law is literally the most pleasant experience ever.

He is very energetic and friendly, and when he sees you for the first time (and falls head over heels) he doesn't hesitate to come up to you and introduce himself. Please prepare for his attempts at impressing you.

And dating him is just as exciting and wholesome. Like you can imagine the kinds of crazy adventures you two get up to; it's never a dull moment in the Law house.

It's also a must that you know his dad. Forest and Marshall are super close and train together a lot, so chances are you will see his father a ton. But don't worry, as long as you treat his son right then he will be a big fan of you.

Forest is not very rich and thus doesn't have the means to take you on fancy dates. But that doesn't matter much; it's the thought that counts!

His favorite places to take you are on long walks in the city at night to admire the lights and people watch. Then afterwards you can watch him beat up street criminals and get ice cream after.

nsfw

Forest is extremely gentle, perhaps to an extreme. Because he's so ripped and possesses the ability to break nearly any solid object in half, the last thing he wants to do is hurt you.

Now he won't treat you like a glass figurine or anything, but he naturally just wants to not be aggressive or rough. It's kind of just how he is.

This man will fuck you slow and with so much feeling behind every little movement. And being as enormous as he is, he will make sure you can take every inch of his cock comfortably before he starts to move.

Will shower you with pet names and chant your name over and over because you make him feeling incredible. Like this man adores you so much and you are his world! He can't fathom how he got so lucky.

Forest also just loves when you tell him how good he's making you feel. That way he can just make you cum over and over again, which is quite possibly what heaven would look like for him.

[em1e]

⠀ ⠀ ༝ i believe in the slow ride, so i drag your heart through the sand and snow

ハジメ // EVEN WHEN I'M NOT WITH YOU ⠀ ༝ ༝ timeskip!iwaizumi hajime ⠀ ༝ ༝ 1.1k words ⠀ ⚠︎ hbd iwa !! mutual pining, drinking, breakups ⠀— iwa’s never really been one to tell you no

iwaizumi hajime liked you. 

well, liked is a relative term, he thinks. he’s enamored by you - all heart eyed and mush in your palms when you touch him. 

and he thinks you might share his sentiment, from the way you’ve danced around him since high school. lingering touches, shared gazes when oikawa says something particularly annoying, small smiles and laughter reserved for him and only him when you’re alone. 

but neither of you seem bold enough in your feelings to make a move. 

so, instead of breaking the tension that seems to grow with each passing year between the two of you, you end up with other people. short relationships that never last longer than a few months, that end with you crying in each other’s arms because i really think i loved them. 

it leaves either of you clenching your jaw as you console the other, the numbing thought of i could treat you so much better lingering in the forefront of your minds. 

but it’s never the right time, never the right place, never the right day to bring it up, and neither of you do. 

it’s iwaizumi’s turn to hold you tonight. a break up with brad or blake or brandon really doing a number on you. 

“he just left, iwa! i caught him cheating and he didn’t even say anything.” 

you’ve always been like this after breakups - going through the motions like a changing mood ring. sadness, then anger, then sadness again, a sprinkle of vengeance if you’re feeling particularly upset. 

“that bastard’s gonna wish he never met me.” you’re frowning, glaring at nothing and iwaizumi can almost feel sorry for benjamin if not for the fact that he quite literally cheated on you. 

“let’s go out, iwa.” you say finally, shaking his shoulder, “i don’t wanna be home right now” 

you glance around your living room, scrunching your nose in distaste from the things braydon’s decided to leave in his haste to get away from your yelling. iwa’s never really been one to tell you no. 

“okay, let me message the guys.” 

you hop up with a small cheer, and it’s enough to leave iwa smiling as you leave to your room to get dressed while he pulls out his phone. 

iwa: You guys down to go out tonight? makki: sure what time mattsun: 👍 oikawa: have 2 check my schedule 

iwa: Like… in an hour? (y/n)’s getting ready. 

mattsun: so we have two hours. got it.

oikawa: i can make it then. tell them to wear something sexy ;) 

makki: don’t they have a bf lol 

oikawa: not anymore if we’re going out on a friday night

makki: good point. 

iwa: We’ll meet you guys at the club? 

mattsun: 👍

makki: 👍

oikawa: what is wrong with u guys oikawa: 👍

true to mattsun’s word, you come out two hours later all styled and pretty. any remnants of a broken heart were left in your bedroom, and iwaizumi can appreciate the fact that you look nice. you give him a small spin with a laugh when he’s been staring for too long and he clears his throat and prays his voice doesn’t crack as he speaks. 

“you look good.” 

“thanks,” you grin, grabbing your wallet and keys,“what did they say?” you nod towards the phone in his hand as you pat yourself down for your own phone. 

he shakes the device slightly as he stands, passing yours since you left it on the couch with him, “meeting us at the club.” 

“perfect! you ready?” 

he looks down at what he’s wearing, compares it to what you have on, and shrugs. his jeans and t-shirt will have to do, “sure.” 

༝ ༝

you’re probably four drinks down when you notice him. 

your now ex. brody? iwaizumi should really work on learning other people’s names. he noticed him when he walked in, even nudged oikawa’s side as if to say look what the cats dragged in, and word spread between the four boys quick - all realizing without you noticing. 

until now, at least. 

“iwaa. . .” you’re pressing into his side in the booth they’d laid claim to, fingers digging into his arm with a frown on your face, “went’a go get a drink ‘nd you won’t believe who bought it for me!” 

he knows who. he’s been watching you like a hawk since he walked in, arms crossed over his chest with a scowl that had oikawa say something about people will think you’re stalkin’ ‘em if you keep starin’ like that. 

still, he asks with a tilted head, “who?” 

“dylan.” you say the name with such venom, it almost makes him laugh, completely disregarding the fact that he was way off on what his name could’ve been. 

oikawa, ever the instigator beside him gasps, “no!” 

“yes!” you groan, leaning into iwaizumi’s bicep, and he’s glad he’s three drinks in - he can blame the flush on his cheeks on that, surely, “will one of you come dance with me?” 

iwa’s not the dancer of the group. in fact, anyone else would have been a better choice, but mattsun’s outside vaping, makki’s at the bar flirting with some chick who he claimed has big honkers (whatever that means), and oikawa . . . knows about iwaizumi’s growing love for you. 

the brunette practically shoves the both of you out of the booth, offering a grin when you giggle and iwaizumi glares. he props his legs up in the seat, leaning back against the wall with his arms behind his head, making himself comfortable and just as iwaizumi is about to tell him off, your fingers are wrapping around his wrist and pulling him to the center of the room. 

you arms wrap around his neck, and his own hands find themselves at your waist naturally. 

the world around you seemed to melt away as the two of you dance to the beat of your own music, swaying back and forth. iwa thinks he could die tomorrow and be happy just from the way you hold him, from the way you’re looking at him now. 

and then you smile at him, something small and cute, and iwa thinks then surely he has died and this is his own personal form of heaven. 

“you’re so pretty iwa.” you mumble out, words barely caught by him from the noise surrounding you. 

“ya think so?” 

you nod, one hand removing itself from his shoulders to cup his cheek, “very much so.” you confirm, eyes softening when he leans into your touch. 

that’s really all it takes to break any resolve he has left, fueled on by the few shots flowing in his system to lean down and press a kiss to your lips that holds the desperation of five years on his tongue. 

when he pulls away, you’re almost gasping, fingers tangled in the front of his shirt trying to pull him back in for more - 

and iwa’s never really been one to tell you no.

[kafus]

okay now that that nightmare is over (ticketmaster) i finished the main story of the teal mask DLC! this was my team by the end :]

i take a lot of pictures while playing here's my voyeuristic shots of these bastards and also me taking the W against all of them with carmine

and of course i caught ogerpon!! i absolutely fucking love this cutie i can't believe SV has not one, but TWO friendly legendaries you form a bond with over the course of the game now. this DLC plot was leagues better than SWSH's in that regard. it wasn't over in an hour and i actually felt a connection with the little guy. or well girl they're 100% femaleASJDKASD

anyways my more in depth thoughts... i already talked about this some in my prior post but i love kitakami! i love the geography and the culture and i feel like this small "region" got to be more fleshed out because of the smaller scope which is great. overall i have mostly positive things to say! i did not like carmine at first but i ended up warming up to her a lot by the end and enjoying her as a character, i loved the presentation of kitakami's history and traditions, and i haven't played much of it but the ogre oustin minigame was fun on the first go at least LOL

that being said i have a lot more complicated feelings about kieran specifically

i thought that maybe when we apologized to each other earlier on all would be well but then he just... kept getting the short end of the stick. i mean i'm glad that the game let me verbally apologize to him but i think it's fucked up that after all of that, no comfort was offered to this child and his feelings kept getting shrugged off. i felt bad defeating him at the end, i mean yeah i'm not gonna tell ogerpon no to staying with me if she likes me and wants to go with me, but the fact that we weren't able to have a conversation with kieran about it?? yeah he runs back home and tries to be alone but i feel like at that point it would be meaningful to try and go talk to him and make amends. tell him he's a good trainer and just has to keep working. idk

maybe i'm just too empathetic to younger characters but it just really sucked and i was kinda miffed with like. them implying that kieran might be a villain in the next DLC or something, like dude i'd be pretty pissed too if my sister and only friend were treating me like garbage (at some point their grandfather chastises carmen and she literally says "it's not like i hit him" like dude THAT'S your bar for mistreatment?) and lying to me and then even after all of that i still couldn't achieve something i've been dreaming about since childhood. like dude must be fucking shattered. why do we have to portray him as "evil" idk, i just really hope in the next DLC there is a proper resolution to all of this because i feel terrible for him and he deserves better. is he perfect? no. does he deserve some level of consequence for some of his actions? yeah. but man throw the kid a bone good lord

anyways i'm not actually opposed to kieran doing some fucked up shit or losing his cool, i'm reserving being pissed for if there is no proper resolution to this story or if he isn't redeemed by the end of the next DLC LOL

but yeah DLC was very good despite my complicated feelings on one of the main characters, certainly much better than SWSH's, i am going to do the side question with Camera Woman i forget her name atm and complete the dex soon

[essayofthoughts]

You know what I'm going to say: Delia AU. Please?

It's getting cromchyyyyy

--

“You’re from up north, aren’t you?” Vax asks, one evening when they’re keeping watch on a place. 

Well - he’s keeping a watch on it, Cass is keeping an eye out for Vex and Trinket, who’d promised to return with some kind of dinner a whole half hour ago and Cass has been praying for those fish pasties they’d had the other week. The unexpectedness of Vax’s question has her turning to look at him with such force it almost makes her stumble out of her carefully wedged position.

“We’re not gonna tell anyone, Cass.” His voice is soft and his expression earnest even as his eyes stay fixed on the house. “Whatever you’re running from - you’re a good person and a tricky customer in a fight. We like you. You don’t want us to tell, we won’t - but we need to know what you don’t want told, so we don’t let anything slip.”

That’s… fair, and Cass hates that it’s fair and feels kind of nostalgic at the same time because this is the exact kind of wheedling reasoning that Percy learned from Julius and used to absolute death. Vax is using it much more like Julius did - simply and plainly and letting the sentence stand without adding on five more arguments.

“Yes,” she says.

“Further than Drynna, right? Vex and I spent a summer there once and your accent is crisper.”

There are, Cass admits, worse people she could admit this to than Vax. Vax who treats her as much like a little sister as Julius ever did. Vax who’s taken a dagger for her not once now but twice, Vax who’s taught her how to lockpick those tricky new bastard locks the Myriad have brought in and where Trinket likes best to be scratched and has twice given her the pouch of looted money to give to Vex.

Vax won’t turn her in. For Vax, family is worth more than money. (Vex… she isn’t entirely sure on Vex yet.)

“Whitestone,” she says eventually.

“Oh,” Vax says. “That’s where that rock comes from, right? Everyone’s been going mad trying to get it after trade was cut off the other year.”

“Yeah,” she says. She swallows; her throat feels dry.

“Know anything about that?” he asks. “Anyway we could get ahold of some? That’d be damn useful-”

“You won’t,” she says. “You won’t get any. And if you try, you’ll just die.”

Vax does tear his eyes away from the building at that: she sees his face turn to look at her out of the corner of her eye but she can’t face him right now because she thinks she might break down entirely if she does and someone has to keep watch.

“Oh,” he says. “Shit, Cass-”

She shakes her head before he can ask anything else.

“Shit,” he repeats. “I knew it was something bad got you down here, with your accent but- shit, Cass.” There’s a pause; politely, he turns to face the manor. “People hunting you?” he asks. Cass can only shrug.

“They didn’t catch me,” she says. “I wasn’t with everyone. I don’t- I don’t know if they know I’m alive. But if they find out-”

“Yeah.” Vax’s shoulders shift and it’s the exact way they do before he does something stupid like threaten a gang’s biggest bruiser. “Right. ‘F you spot anyone-”

“I pickpocketed you because I used all my funds trying to kill one of their people,” she blurts. “And- she saw my face. I didn’t manage it.”

Vax’s eyes snap right back to her.

“... You think she’s gonna tell them?”

Cass can shake her head for that at least. Ripley’s a bitch but she’s a predictable bitch: she loves nothing more than knowledge to lord over other people, knowledge that advantages her over everyone else. Percy’d always been blind to it, but it was one of the reasons Mother had always been a bit sceptical of the Doctor’s advice.

“She’s under their thumbs too,” she says eventually. “She won’t like that.”

Vax understands immediately. “Right-”

He stops dead and it takes Cass a moment to realise why: Vex is walking down the street, Trinket ambling along beside her.

“What a surprise seeing you here,” she says, when she reaches the little alley they’ve tucked themselves into, Vax perched on top of some crates and Cass wedged between some. “Still cosy as cats in a colony?”

“Absolutely,” Vax says, already making grabby-hands at the steaming, wax-paper-wrapped parcels in Vex’s hands. “We’ll be cosier if-”

“Yes yes, food first,” Vex says.

If it wasn’t for her upbringing, Cass could hug Vex. It is the pasties. The manor across the street remains as dull as anything and they all settle in with their food.

“Having fun chatting?” Vex asks, leaning back against the street-facing wall, her hood pulled low in a way that makes her look astoundingly cool if not for the flaky pastry crumbs caught on her leathers.

“Absolutely riveting,” Vax asks, before taking a bite and heedlessly talking around the mouthful. “What took you so long?”

Oh. Cass doesn’t think she’s ever seen Vax keep something from Vex before.

[legrandefungus]

Fungus writes more of his EoS AU.

After this, I might wind up posting a bit out of order. But! This is where a few things get set up! This is also where I introduce some music! It's just something I think fits the scene.

It's been a few weeks! Bidoof, expectedly, is trying to be as friendly and helpful as possible.

Yes, weeks. Looks like the timeline's going a bit slower. Thank goodness for that. I'd hate having a month, give or take, to prepare for the dark future.

Shalvy, too. Does having someone who treats him like a normal person is surprising? I guess my brand of baseline respect for all people is effective. It's too bad I have to hide so much from you.

Though... Something's concerning. I bumped into Drowzee and nothing happened. Was it because I already know about i-

"Ah! Sorry, Mr. Chatot!"

He was annoyed. First off, how casually the vulpix acted! But at the same time, the child was running himself ragged. One expedition a day? Sometimes two if they line up? The exploration notice board's been seeing a lot of use from the little one! But... that pace wasn't enthusiasm. Ennil looked horrified at the very concept of a break.

"Ack! Please watch yourself, Ennil! It would reflect badly on us if..."

I didn't hear what he said after that, I was instead thrust into something.

"You... Never trusted me?"

It was cold. Damnably cold. I could see the heartbreak all over him. What happened?

"..."

I couldn't make out the other voice. The blowing wind obscured it from me.

"But I-"

"..."

"!"

Who are you? What's going to change? I should warn Chatot, but he doesn't see me as someone to acknowledge yet. Blast, the future's already going to be screwed up, what's ne-

"ENNIL!"

"Wh-huh!?"

"Are you alright? You fell over."

"Oh, sorry! I did some training with Bidoof earlier today. I must be more tired than I thought!"

"Well, glad to see you're so enthusiastic! But don't overdo yourself, either! You have to know your limits."

If only. If something's going to change, I have to prepare as much as I can. Me reaching the end of my endurance is the baseline of where I need to be.

"Apologies, I need to do as much as I can. Then the other members won't have to worry as much!"

Preparation is key, I need to learn this desperation to survive the future.

That's a lie. He spoke very rigidly, and what kid uses the word 'apologies!?' Still, it looks like how he's acting has lined up roughly with Chatot's first impression.

"Still, you should leave some low-ranked missions for the others. And your partner's been looking exhausted lately, too!"

"A-ah, right. Sorry, Mr. Chatot."

This kid's not sorry at all! He should be taught a lesson before he hurts himself!

"No! For the rest of today and tomorrow, you're to be barred from taking any missions or going on expeditions! You can clean and help around the town in the meantime. Shalvy will be reassigned to do some expeditions with Bidoof."

For a single moment, Chatot saw it. Terror, plain and simple. Not the look of a chastised kid, or one scared of punishment, that's for sure.

"...Yes sir." Well. That puts a bit of a wrench in my plans. How annoying.

What are you running from, Ennil? If anyone, he should at least be able to tell the vice-guildmaster. Everyone's willing to help, if only he opened up.

...

Turns out, doing work for the Kecleon Brothers was pretty easy! And a bit relaxing, too. It was nice getting to let loose and actually use some of my old skills.

They kept an eye on him just a bit to start. Give the kid some simple jobs for the shop, make him happier, maybe a slight discount on their next purchase over 1000 poke too! Then the little bastard went and started doing things that were definitely not childlike.

That's another Gravelyrock. A few quick jots here and there cleared that up.

"What's the tax rate again?"

...

"I think there might be an error in the pricing here. Are you doing a markdown?"

"Oh, that's a sale we're doing! Draws in the thrifty types."

"Makes sense! Gotta have some way to get the stingy folks to make a purchase."

...

"Hey, you think we could hire this one in the future?"

"He's strange, that's for sure."

Strange was an understatement. He was already on par with some of the newer Kecleons in the business, and it still looked like he was holding something back.

Still, the brothers were quite happy to have him working for the day. Most ADULT pokemon would have gotten a headache by noon with all the numbers floating around. The vulpix hardly complained and stayed even to the closing times.

"Say, Ennil. What might be your thoughts on working with us?"

"Oh! I could do some work from ti-"

"Genuine thoughts, please. You're good, but we can smell a performance from a mile away."

"..."

"Blight, am I really that obvious?"

"Pfft-!"

The whiplash going from hopeful, somewhat happy kid to the tone of someone who tripped and lost newly bought reviver seeds proved too much for the younger brother, who burst into laughter.

"Keheh! No, we're just good at sniffing out con artists and folks putting on a show. Too many of them try to get discounts for some reason or another."

"Oh, that makes sense."

"Children also aren't supposed to know about the concept of a tax well. Especially not the one involved with merchants."

"...Right. Forgot about that."

"So, thoughts?"

"I'd have to ask Chatot, but that sounds good."

"Khhheeh... Ahem, sorry, sorry! Please do! It's wonderful to have someone who knows enough to keep up."

"Oh, and before you go..."

They kept an eye on him a bit earlier, too. So, a bit of an investment now might mean a much bigger payoff later!

"WHA-AKC-"

I'm a bit glad my voice brought me into a coughing fit. A lot more talking today than I was used to. Definitely terrified that they knew I was wanting a stronger fire move. But Flamethrower? That might just be what I'll be needing.

...

"I force you to take a break, and you find a way to do more work."

"..."

"I already heard it from them earlier in the day. The two were very enthusiastic about your help. Just-" Chatot sighs. By Arceus, this kid's going to make him retire early. "We'll figure something out. Klefki should almost be done with dinner."

"Alright!"

Strange Journal, page 2.

𝑊𝑒𝑙𝑙, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑏𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑢𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙/𝑑𝑖𝑎𝑟𝑦 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝐴 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑒𝑙𝑑𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑐ℎ 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑒𝑑𝑔𝑒 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑡, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙. 𝐼𝑡𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑝𝑟𝑖𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑙𝑦 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑤𝑠, 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦'𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜𝑜𝑙𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝐼'𝑣𝑒 𝑔𝑜𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑖𝑛𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑦 𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑒𝑠, 𝑠𝑜 𝑖𝑡'𝑠 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒 𝑎𝑠𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒.

𝑆𝑜, 𝐼'𝑚 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒, 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝐼 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑜 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐶𝑢𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑎𝑙𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑟𝑜𝑤 𝑎𝑠 𝑠𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐴𝑝𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑊𝑜𝑜𝑑𝑠 𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑎𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑒𝑛𝑐ℎ𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑘. 𝐼𝑓 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑢𝑐𝑘𝑒𝑟𝑝𝑢𝑛𝑐ℎ 𝑆𝑘𝑢𝑙𝑙 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑎 𝑝𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑓𝑢𝑙 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑓𝑖𝑟𝑒-𝑡𝑦𝑝𝑒 𝑚𝑜𝑣𝑒, 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑖𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑏𝑜 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚! ℎ𝑖𝑔ℎ 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 𝑏𝑒𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑏𝑜𝑑𝑖𝑒𝑑, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑜𝑟𝑒𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑤𝑖𝑛. 𝐴𝑠 𝑙𝑜𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑑𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑙𝑜𝑠𝑒 ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑜𝑢𝑠𝑙𝑦, 𝑖𝑡 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑙𝑖𝑣𝑒 𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑒𝑛𝑑. 𝐷𝑒𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑛 ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑖𝑡 𝑔𝑜𝑒𝑠, 𝐼 𝑚𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑝𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠, 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑍𝐼 𝑜𝑟 𝐷𝑇. 𝑆𝑜𝑟𝑟𝑦, 𝑗𝑜𝑢𝑟𝑛𝑎𝑙, 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑤𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑓𝑓-𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑎ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒.

𝐼𝑡'𝑠 𝑏𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑓𝑢𝑛 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑜𝑐𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦, 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝑊ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑘𝑒𝑒𝑝 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑟𝑑 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛, 100% 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒; 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒'𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝐼 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒 170%. 𝐼𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑚𝑒𝑙𝑖𝑛𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑔𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝐼 𝑒𝑥𝑝𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝐴𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑜𝑐𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒 𝑏𝑜𝑛𝑢𝑠𝑒𝑠, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑏𝑒 𝑝ℎ𝑦𝑠𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑔𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑎𝑐𝑡𝑠. 𝐼 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑔𝑒𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑦, 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ. 𝑆𝑜 𝐼 𝑐𝑎𝑛'𝑡 𝑠𝑙𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑜𝑓𝑓.

𝑆ℎ𝑎𝑙𝑣𝑦 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝐼 𝑠𝑝𝑙𝑖𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑡-𝑏𝑢𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑡𝑒𝑚𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑆𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦. 𝐼𝑡 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑦 𝑒𝑛𝑜𝑢𝑔ℎ 𝑡𝑜 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑡𝑜 𝑎𝑖𝑚 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑎 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑣𝑦-ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑛, 𝑤ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝐼 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 ℎ𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑎𝑙 𝑝𝑜𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑏𝑎𝑐𝑘. 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑡𝑜𝑡 𝑔𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛 𝑜𝑑𝑑 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡. 𝐻𝑒 𝑔𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑜𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑛𝑜𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑟𝑎𝑡𝑒, 𝑡𝑜𝑜. 𝑆𝑡𝑖𝑙𝑙, 𝐼'𝑚 𝑜𝑛-𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑐𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑠𝑢𝑟𝑣𝑖𝑣𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑎𝑟. 𝐻𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑠𝑡𝑖𝑐𝑘𝑠.

[sollucets]

ocean eyes, vii

previous parts

in which ocean eyes begins to earn a sam/david tag; the trials and tribulations of touch-based healing magic.

usual caveats for ocean eyes; named and described characters all around (including the bois) including ivy (they/them) & aster (he/they/she).

on ao3, or full chapter under the cut

💜

"Work giving you trouble?"

That's an invitation if David's ever heard one, but still...

David would sigh if it wouldn't look deranged to Sam. This doesn't suit him. "Yeah," he says decisively. "It's a pain in the ass."

Sam snorts out a little laugh, then gets out of his chair and circles the desk to stand behind David. This kind of behavior usually pisses him off -- he's gotten used to Aster constantly snooping on his screens because it's them, but it's not something he forgives from other people. He's about to just explain it to Sam when the other man leans down, close to David's left shoulder, to peer at the worksheet.

And somehow, with that rustle of fabric loud in the sudden closeness, David forgets to say anything at all.

"Oh, hey, I recognize that," Sam says with a little laugh. "I think we used the same diagrams back in freshman year. Your textbook’s probably newer than mine was, though. How's it treating you?"

David is very close to nodding off into his laptop when the knock comes. He's up and moving before his brain catches up, body on full alert. If he'd been a little more lucid, he would've tried to move slower, for the sake of Ivy and his mate asleep just feet away.

As it is, though, the sun's been down for hours and he isn't expecting company. David stalks to the door, quiet as he can, and waits in the hallway. Listens.

For a second, there's nothing, not even a breath. David holds his own, listening closer.

People move more than that; little shuffling steps, breathing. From here, through a door, he wouldn't be able to hear a heartbeat anyway, but that's the point. If someone's there, they're silent as the dead. David squares his jaw, considers his options.

Then -- the sound of fabric shifting, the little tap-tappy noises of a phone keyboard. A familiar voice humming in thought.

David pulls the door open. "Sam," he says, doing his best to keep his tone at least neutral. It isn't the other man's fault he's a paranoid bastard. "I wasn't expecting you."

Sam stands in his doorway with a surprised expression. He's dressed more formally than David's used to for him, in a black button-up and pants that aren't jeans, and he does indeed have his phone in his left hand. "I wasn't expecting to come either," he says apologetically. "I just got done early and thought I might could catch Ivy. I did text ahead. Aster didn't get the message?"

That'd probably explain it. He did hear their phone vibrating from its place trapped under their ass about an hour ago and had elected to ignore it in favor of letting them sleep. "They didn't," he says aloud, shrugging. "Come in."

Sam's mouth twists. "Don't feel obliged. I'd've usually waited to get a response, but I was already in the car over. If you don't want extra company I can take off."

David levels him with one of his best glares, and says, pointedly, "Come in. Just keep your voice down."

Raising both eyebrows, Sam nevertheless follows him inside. David watches him close the door, unlace his dress shoes and set them on the rack all with barely a sound. Vampires.

When they go into the living room and Sam spots their mates, David also watches his expression go the kind of gooey that Aster's does watching cat videos. He'd make fun, but it'd be hypocritical.

After all, when he'd come home to find Ivy sleeping shifted, their giant black wolf form stretched across 75% of the couch and 100% of Aster's lap, he's sure his face had done something embarrassing too. David can count on one hand the number of times he's seen Ivy's wolf form; he knows full well it wasn't for him that they'd shifted, but the honor had hit him anyway.

(And Aster always looks cute when they sleep, fucked up hair and mouth open and all.)

Sam catches David's eye once he's mastered his face, and David tilts his chin in the direction of his office. As quietly as he can, he grabs his laptop from where he'd dropped it and leads Sam into the other room.

When the door closes, Sam gives him a crooked little smile. It exposes a hint of white, flashing fang. "Sorry again for imposing."

"Shut up," David says, on reflex. "You're fine."

"Ivy's been on that job," Sam continues, head cocked. "I haven't seen them since last week, and I wasn't meant to today, but Vincent's apparently back now, and he took the meeting off my hands." There's a small sigh. "Bastard might've given me some advance warning, but I'm grateful enough."

David knows, mostly via Ivy telling Aster who told him, that Vincent's been gone for some time to care for his newly-Turned partner, with Sam picking up the extra work his absence made for the Clan. As a result of that double workload, Sam's schedule for the last month or so has been brutal. David's barely seen him, not that he's been particularly expecting to or anything. "They've both been knocked out since I got home," David explains, leaning his hip against his desk and setting his laptop down. "You could probably wake them. I'm sure they'd be glad to see you."

"I'd never," says Sam, that mouth pulling down into a frown on one side. "Ivy barely has a sleep schedule as is. I'm sure they'll be up soon, anyway."

"Suit yourself," David tells him, shrugging one shoulder. "You're welcome to hang around until they wake. You can have anything you want out of the kitchen."

The Vampire is about the only person David knows who he'd actually make that offer to, now that he thinks about it. No one else in his immediate circle of acquaintances can be trusted in there, but Sam doesn't need to eat anyway and is both polite enough and possessed of enough common sense to know that the offer is genuine but has limits. It's refreshing.

Predictably, Sam shakes his head. "Thank you kindly, but I'm alright." That frown deepens for a moment. "If you're sure, then--"

Well, there is such a thing as too much politeness. David leans forward a little; not quite into Sam's space, they're not standing close enough, but enough to equalize their heights and make pointed, direct eye contact. "I said you're welcome here. Stop second-guessing it."

Sam blinks a couple times, those odd silver eyes round, then laughs softly. "Alright, alright, message received."

David nods at him in acknowledgement, then moves behind his desk and takes a seat. His office is the only room in the house he'd flat refused to let Aster participate in decorating; as a result, it's all shades of black and white and clean lines that help David focus. There is one other chair, but it doesn't get a ton of use. Aster usually sits with or on him when they're in here. "I'm gonna get some work done," he tells Sam. "Let me know if you need something."

No, it's not good host behavior, but David has never been a good host. He just successfully pretends to be, now and again.

Sam shrugs, pulls out his phone, and sits down in the other office chair. "I'll keep it down."

Turning his attention back to his laptop, David pulls up his self-assigned homework again. Maybe he'll have an easier time with it in here, without the distraction of the TV screen or Aster or Ivy. It's from the textbook most of the posts on Healing had recommended, an anatomical cross-section of the arm that he's meant to label from memory.

He's read the section multiple times, and took handwritten notes, but the actual knowledge keeps flying out of his head whenever he looks at the diagram, the order of the names scrambling each time. It's painfully frustrating.

It's already occurred to him to ask Sam, of course. It had the second he'd put his laptop down. But Sam's busy enough as is, and David's sure he's probably sick of teaching even Vincent, who's his best friend. He won't want to deal with David's even clumsier attempts as well, surely.

"Did I do anything in particular to deserve that look?" asks Sam wryly, and with a jolt David realizes that he's been staring past the laptop and directly at the Vampire for the last few minutes.

"No," David says immediately, and then, "Sorry."

"Your face'll get stuck like that,'' Sam tells him, with the cadence of someone in on a joke. He must say it a lot. After a moment, he adds, more tentative, "Work giving you trouble?"

That's an invitation if David's ever heard one, but still...

David would sigh if it wouldn't look deranged to Sam. This doesn't suit him. "Yeah," he says decisively. "It's a pain in the ass."

Sam snorts out a little laugh, then gets out of his chair and circles the desk to stand behind David. This kind of behavior usually pisses him off -- he's gotten used to Aster constantly snooping on his screens because it's them, but it's not something he forgives from other people. He's about to just explain it to Sam when the other man leans down, close to David's left shoulder, to peer at the worksheet.

And somehow, with that rustle of fabric loud in the sudden closeness, David forgets to say anything at all.

"Oh, hey, I recognize that," Sam says with a little laugh. "I think we used the same diagrams back in freshman year. Your textbook’s probably newer than mine was, though. How's it treating you?" His voice is low still, in deference to the sleeping wolf in the living room, and also very close to David's ear. David is unsure why he needs to notice that.

"Like shit."

Sam moves a bit further away, but only to brace a hand on the desk to David's side and keep looking. They're still awfully close. "I always thought the illustrations were pretty clear."

David scowls. "The illustration is fine."

"Memorization, then?" asks Sam. He sounds far too knowing for David's tastes. "That's usually how they have them do the theory part."

"That's how it says to do it, yeah."

Humming the way he'd done outside the door, Sam stares down at David's screen a little longer. "It is important to learn anatomy," he says, sounding a little distracted. "And I get you're doing it on your own, so you mostly don't have a choice. But you're not gonna get too far like this."

"I'm doing fine," snaps David, before he can stop himself.

Sam raises an unimpressed eyebrow. "How many carpals in your wrist?"

"Eight," David tells him, increasingly irritated with that knowing tone.

"Right," says Sam, "and if you were an unempowered doctor, you'd need to have all their shapes and arrangements memorized so you didn't fuck up the whole thing, and the medical textbooks that Healers model after don't bother to change it 'cause it is true it's useful to know." His voice, still soft, has taken on a sort of cadence David usually associates with public speaking. "But we have an unfair advantage on that front, y'know."

Despite himself, David asks, "What do you mean?"

Sam holds out the hand he's not using to lean on the desk to David, wrist up. "Make with your magic like you're gonna heal it."

Ever since starting his probably-ill-fated attempt at learning Healing, David has been thinking increasingly frequently of the first time he'd done it. Sam's bloodied hands over his, both of them shaking, Ash heavy and warm and barely clinging to consciousness in his lap. The way it'd felt like he was tearing something alive out of his own heart, passing it through his blood and out through his fingers into Ash's blood. He tries to remember it every time he passes a particularly dry description of Healing; thinks of the visceral, jagged way the magic had torn out of him as he'd trusted entirely in Sam's word and instincts he hadn't known he had to save his best friend's life.

David hasn't tried to reach for that since then. He knows it was a miracle. He knows there is a proper process to this sort of thing, for the safety of his would-be patients and himself. It's not something he wants to try again without being sure, without having made every possible preparation first. And yet here Sam is, looking at him with guileless silver eyes and offering up his wrist.

"I can't," says David sharply. "You're not even fucking injured, what are you talking about?"

"Sure you can," Sam says easily, breezing past being sworn at without even a blink. Then again, he's Ivy's mate. "You're magicborn; do that exercise they teach you before you learned to shift. Look for your core."

David jerks his head up to stare Sam in the eye, disgruntled. "That is in no way the same thing."

"Oh, and you're so smart now you've learned a whole entire month?" Sam grins at him, still way too smug. "Try it. Just feel for your magic for a second."

Back at age 12, David had been one of the first kids in his age group to successfully shift, and he hasn't done this since. He'd been so proud back then to leave behind a process he'd considered to be both irritating and difficult, too like meditation for twitchy little preteen David's sensibilities.

He glares at Sam, for emphasis, then reaches for the spark. It's different for everyone, apparently, but David's shift has always been a quick burn, an explosion. It's hard to hang onto the moment just before it, to exist in that tiny little space.

But he can do it. It's been a long time since he was twelve.

David catches that spark, holds it in his chest, holds it back. Lets himself get just that close to shifting, then doesn't.

"There you go," says Sam, and David's faintly alarmed to realize it kindles a little proud warmth next to the spark. "Now take that feeling and send it out to me. It's not urgent, don't you go gettin' ahead of yourself, just reach for me."

"What do you mean," grits out David, unable to regulate his tone with most of his attention gone to keeping the shift at bay.

"Like before." Sam's tone loses a bit of its smugness when he references the Inversion. "Just feel for it. Don't picture anything if it's confusing."

David does not resist the urge to roll his eyes at the utter nonspecificity of those instructions, but -- he thinks he gets it. He takes Sam's wrist in his hand, and lets the spark expand and expand and expand till it's a charge all the way down his arm and right up to where they're touching.

Meeting him there is Sam's aura, which he hadn't known he'd recognize until he does, a sort of cool frisson along the edges of his own, enveloping and steady.

"Good," says Sam. "Alright. Focus there, on my wrist, and bear with me a moment."

It's something to do with shifting being so physical, David thinks, that he barely has words to describe how magic untethered from that feels. This is no different. He dutifully focuses all of his attention on where his fingers are circled around Sam’s wrist, lets that charge go with his attention, but without that desperate intention from before, David doesn’t feel like it’s working.

And then Sam gets involved.

It feels like Sam is pulling on him, tugging where they're connected, but nothing is moving, just David's awareness and the criss-cross, cold static of their mixed auras until it's laser-focused on Sam's wrist.

"How many carpals in the wrist?" asks Sam again.

"What are you -- eight," snaps David, and then, without his conscious permission, he feels it. There under his hand, inside the millions of pieces that make up Sam, are the connecting blocks of his wrist, not visible but felt. The shape of them enveloped in David's magic is impossible to describe, like touch but without any physical input, like sight but without anything to relate it to, like and unlike all of the senses he has to compare.

Or maybe not. The diagram, he thinks, and superimposes that image onto the little bundle of bones cradled within the stream of his magic. He can feel their shapes, the ligaments connecting them, can imagine the way he might easily let his own magic flow into those pathways, the way he might just as easily redirect them and mess it up.

David doesn't know what his face is doing, too focused on holding this state, but it must be something, because Sam laughs softly at him, enough to break his concentration. "Y'see?"

"Fuck," says David in faint surprise as that strange, electric awareness falls away. He feels a little drained, like he’s gone on a decent run or spent some time landscaping. "Yeah, actually."

"It's harder to do on yourself," Sam says, still in that lecture tone of voice, "but so long as you're just looking and not actually trying to heal, you can. You oughta be careful about it, though. A test subject helps. My old roommate used to put up with this kinda shit from me all the time. It really helps to actually put it together and remember how they connect."

"That's so fucking weird," says David.

Sam laughs outright this time, his eyes nearly closing. His teeth are so white. "Ain't it just."

David becomes abruptly aware that he is still sitting there in his desk chair with Sam's wrist in his hand. Aside from those screaming moments on the arena ground, he's never touched Sam. He runs cooler than David's, significantly so, and the veins stick out under his dark skin. David can feel the rise under his thumb, the heartbeat that thuds through it. It's a little fast, he thinks.

He should answer, right?

David's still thinking of a response when Sam's head jerks suddenly to the side, like he's heard something, and a few seconds later David also picks up on footsteps nearing their room. He drops Sam's wrist like it's burned him.

"Sam?" says Ivy, sounding both sleepy and confused outside the door. "Is that you? Are you here?"

"Yeah, darlin'," Sam calls, glancing sidelong at David. David nods his permission, and Sam adds, "Come in."

The door opens, revealing a now-human Ivy in dark sweatpants and a t-shirt, face a little puffy from sleep. "You're here," they say slowly, blinking.

Oh, so they were tired tired.

"Yeah," says Sam, his expression going transparently soft and gentle again.

Ivy crosses the room to him barefoot, completely ignoring David, and holds out both hands towards Sam's face.

Sam, for his part, does not ignore David, sending him another glance that looks a bit closer to nervous.

Ivy wiggles their fingers impatiently.

Apparently unable to resist, Sam leans down enough for Ivy to take his face in their hands and go on tiptoe to kiss his forehead. It's the single most tender thing David has ever seen them do, just a brief press of lips. He feels, suddenly and intensely, like an intruder in his own house.

"Why are you here?" asks Ivy, apparently now content to just stand near Sam and look at him suspiciously. "You weren't supposed to be."

"Change of plans," Sam tells them. His eyes are curled up at the corners still, pinning them with a look of blatant adoration as he reaches out to curl an arm around their waist. "Came to visit."

"Oh." Ivy bumps their head into Sam's side, nuzzling against him. Finally, their eyes catch on David where he's still sitting behind his desk. He waits for the moment of realization, for them to remember who he is and stiffen, or say something to deflect from their obvious display of affection.

They don't do any of that. All they do is stare at him for a long moment in that way they have, where you feel like they're pinning you to a board for dissection.

Usually, David might make a casual remark to dissolve the tension that being caught in Ivy's stare always brings. Something about PDA, maybe. But he keeps it back, the way he has been recently, and just meets their gaze the best he can.

This grows awkward almost immediately, and to David's shock Ivy is the first to look away with a sleepy little frown.

"Should we head home, then?" Sam asks them. "How's Aster?"

Ivy shakes their head. "Still out."

They slept through your giant wolf ass getting up? David thinks wryly, but doesn't say. It would break the gentle, sleepy atmosphere, he tells himself.

"I'll text again to say thank you," Sam says, shrugging. Turning to look at David, he adds, "And thank you, for your time and hospitality."

"Stop that," David says, flatly. "I don't have to repeat myself, do I?"

"I'm being polite, Mr. Shaw," says Sam, with a little quirk of his mouth. "Some of us still do that."

David considers this, then flips him off.

Ivy watches this from Sam's side, quiet, then turns to David and flips him off in return. "Since he won't do it," they say, before dragging Sam out of the room.

"Good night," calls Sam, with a laugh, and doesn't resist.

David stays sitting in his desk chair until Aster appears, sleep-warm and affectionate, and sits on his lap.

The worksheet doesn't get done that night. But it does get done.

[mamamittens]

My looooooove this is so fun, I am hype. Can I please have my OC x Marco and Ace? oooor if I can just have one boy.. Marco? thank you <3 I hope I filled this out right.. [what I asked for might just suit Marco but if your up for a challange..]

Cream Poprocks Alcohol Mind eraser/motor oil/Jager Bomb/Pink Schnapps[OC is sub]/ Mochi Ice Cream coffee

Man big list -sweating-

I love you <3

Well, I hope you enjoy your date!

Date Night Event!

Warnings: (Background/implied yandere behavior). Car sex, sex as a tool for manipulation, slight voyer/exhibitionism kink, rough sex, dom/sub behavior, degradation (whore and slut used), and spit roast (simultaneous sexual intercourse on both ends).

Word count: 2,468

The atmosphere was cheerful, gaudy Valentine’s day decorations decorating the venue in a somewhat restricted array of white, pink, and red hues. Chocolate candies at every table and an excessive amount of food with food dye in them offered at a buffet table. Ray nibbled on a small sandwich, having removed a heart-and-arrow pick out of it for his own safety. He didn’t strictly… mind the holiday. Free candy is free candy, even if it had cheesy phrases plastered everywhere. At least this free candy didn’t have a one-in-five chance of secretly being a set up for a scare.

Well, unless you were really terrified of commitment.

Ray leaned against the wall, tilting his head to rest against Marco’s arm as he enjoyed a pineapple drink with pink food dye. Ace was prowling the food table as he stacked an increasing amount onto his plate. Ray snorted as Ace snapped his teeth at someone for trying to swipe from his plate. Ray suspected that he was raised by wild animals sometimes and Ace rarely did anything to prove otherwise. What was worse—he was cute enough to get away with being a feral bastard.

Marco and Ray had to act civilized if they wanted to get anything done while Ace ran wild, confident that his cute freckles will get him out of trouble. Truly, the real tragedy of their tri-relationship was that it wasn’t that far off from being the truth.

“At least he’s getting his fill now.” Ray mused, munching on another sandwich slice. Marco snorted, Ray’s lip twitching as he already knew what his partner was going to say.

“So confident this will even make a dent? I don’t know where the fuck he puts it…” Marco complained with a playful glare in Ray’s direction. Seems he was still put out that he lost a bet and had to cover groceries for the rest of the year… fair enough.

“Well, some days all I have is hopes and dreams. Let me believe in a lie for a few hours, alright?” Ray snarked, stealing Marco’s drink for a sip. Marco amicably allowed the theft before giving Ray a soft peck. “Why are we here anyway? I know you’re a sap, but this is a bit much, even for you.”

“Well, I thought the atmosphere would help.” Marco shrugged. Ray paused.

“Help what? Cause as much as I want to believe, we both know Ace will eat his bodyweight in food tonight no matter how tall his plate gets.” Ray eyed Ace as he made his way back to them.

Ace beamed, practically skipping as he effortlessly balanced his food. To Ray’s surprise, he handed a few choice items over without any fuss.

Marco accepted the pineapple jelly with a fond smile as Ray took a cup of chocolate mousse.

“A treat for my future husbands!” Ace crowed proudly. Marco scowled, tsking at Ace.

“I didn’t get to tell him yet.” Ray glanced between the two in confusion.

“Uh… what? Was the food spiked with something, Ace? You’re not normally this bold.” Ray distracted himself from the chastised expression the younger man had. He grimaced and shrugged.

“Sorry. Got too excited.” He excused. Marco sighed, swallowing the pineapple jelly in a single toss of his head. Marco looked down at Ray apologetically.

“There was a business deal with Ace’s bio family. It was sealed with an ‘arranged marriage’. Really, I think Roger just wanted to argue with Pops for a few weeks.” Ray frowned.

“An arranged marriage? In this day and age? With who?! Do we need to sneak you out of the country, baby?” Ray asked in concern. Ace looked pleased as he shook his head.

“No, Ray. It’s with us. Since Roger kept arguing about Ace keeping his family name, Pops decided to force the issue. Now, we’ll all have the same last name.” Marco said, quite pleased with himself. Ray wrinkled his nose in displeasure.

“Why is our relationship being used as a bartering tool?” Ray sneered. He wasn’t against marriage, particularly to Ace or Marco, but being told he had to… irked him. Ace grimaced again mid-bite.

“It’s not! This is just for convenience! Uhm! Legal convenience!” Ace stammered, quickly correcting himself as Marco gave him a look. “Ah… I hope you’re not mad at us. I… I thought it was a nice idea.” Ace sighed, nibbling at a chocolate bar. He looked like a sad puppy being left at a kennel.

Ray scowled anyway, though his heart twisted uncomfortably as Ace visibly shrunk into himself. Marco, usually the more mature and laid back on between them, also seemed to be folding in on himself. Seemingly upset to have put Ray in this awkward position.

Really, it was more about the principal of the matter. If he was going to get married to anyone, he wanted to be involved from the start! Not told that it was practically a done deal! Who the hell wants that? Frustrated at being surprised like this and guilty that his partners were upset, Ray sighed.

“I’m not mad… I just… need to go for a walk.” Ray hissed, certain that the fresh air would soothe his nerves so he could properly address this new issue.

“Ah! Ray! Wait!”

“Don’t… let him walk. We’ll catch up in a minute.” Marco soothed Ace as Ray exited the venue. He was glad they didn’t make a reservation at a restaurant or something. It would be harder to casually shoot the breeze outside if he had to worry about finding his seat again later.

The chilly late-winter air settled heavy in Ray’s lungs as he paced. Muttering angrily to himself. Rapidly flipping through his many issues with the situation.

First off, he wanted to know where Roger and Pops got off deciding their sons’ relationships like that! All of them were too old to be corralled into ‘proper’ relationships. Though at the very least they had enough sense to not break them apart.

He also wanted to know why he was the last one to know. Ace seemed fine with it—likely a combination of legally getting to change his name and not seeing the issue with it. But Marco and himself were independent adults and have been for years. How was he just finding out about this? And not even from them.

A massive part of his life just… just… written off as a trade deal?! What the fuck?!

Marco and himself had never really needed to fancy papers to determine their relationship. Adding Ace into that, while quite an eventful time, didn’t take away the legitimacy of their bond either. So to imply that they needed it after all these years was insulting. And weird. Why now? What changed?

Roger and Pops had been arguing about Ace for years now… seems odd that it was suddenly resolved and Ray didn’t hear about it until now. And with such a weird solution too…

“Babe, get in. You’ll catch a cold out here.” Ray jerked, looking towards the street next to him where Marco was pulled up beside him in a bright blue bug. Ace looked at him from the window with a despondent expression.

He only realized then that his nose was frozen. Tips of his fingers numb with he venue quite a ways behind him.

Huffing, Ray clambered into the backseat. The front occupied with boxed up leftovers that Ace was sure to clear out by the end of the day.

Ace leaned against the door, giving Ray space as he kept his chin tucked into his clavicle.

“I’m not mad at you guys.” Ray sighed, rubbing his cold nose. “Just frustrated with the surprise.” Ace looked at him with hopeful eyes as Marco smiled.

“Yeah. We could have broken the news better. I’m sorry, yoi.” Marco apologized as he started driving. Ace reached over slowly and pulled Ray into a blissfully warm embrace.

“I’m sorry you have to get married because of me.” Ace whispered into his chest. Ray felt his heart break a little at that.

“What? No, baby that’s not what I’m upset about!” Ray wrapped his arms around Ace’s back, rubbing up and down his spine as Ace squeezed him tightly. “This is just something I would have preferred to be included in deciding! Just between the three of us.” Ray clarified softly.

Ace pressed his lips against Ray’s throat.

“You promise?” Ace sighed, sucking a harsh mark on his skin. Ray shuddered, squirming in the seat while Marco kept his eyes on the road, smirking.

“C-Course I do! S-Sssshit Ace, easy~!” Ray whined, feeling his lover’s teeth sink in deeper. His seat belt clicked open audibly as Ace pulled his hips closer. “M-Marco has to pay attention to the ro—ahn~!” Ray squeezed his eyes shut as Ace slipped his hand under Ray’s pants. Curling his fingers over his clit and teasing him.

“Oh, I’m perfectly capable of driving like this, babe. Ace? Keep your clothes on. We can punish him for hurting your feelings at the house.” Marco said dryly as Ace sank another finger into Ray’s cunt. “Try not to make a mess back there. I know it’s hard for you sometimes being soaked for us.”

Ace grinned down at him hungrily as Ray steadily sank into the seat. Sliding beneath Ace as Marco kept driving.

“What? Can’t drive straight if I fuck him in the backseat?” Ace asked with a sly glance. Ray could barely see Marco, his upper body now flat as his legs twisted with mounting pleasure. Ace shoved up his shirt, peppering bite marks around his binder. “He does get wet awful fast for a slut, I’ll give you that. I like that about him though.”

“We’re on the highway, Ace. I can’t exactly pull over to join you two.” Marco reminded him as Ray gasped, his binder unclipped and allowing Ace to continue his assault on his bare breasts. Ace’s hand still toying with his cunt as he did so.

“All that fuss about getting married. Tsk. Bet if we were on the backroads Marco could pull over for a spit roast. You’d like that, right? Can’t complain with your mouth full.” Ace snarked against Ray’s bruised tit. “He’s so wet, Marco. I think he really likes getting toyed with in the backseat.”

“…”

“A-Ace! Oh fuck hnn~!” Ray threw his head back, nails digging into the arm rest above him as Ace bit the other side of his neck, thumb heavy on his clit. He shuddered, gasping and trembling as he came.

“What pretty sounds you make, Ray.” Marco mused, turning the car somewhere. “Is it really any wonder we want to make you ours forever? Bet he’s making a mess back there, isn’t he Ace?”

Ace chuckled against Ray’s throat.

“Course he is. You know how much of a slut he is.” Ace agreed, much to Ray’s dizzy surprise.

“You’re right… we’re off the highway now. You have fifteen minutes before I join you two. Better make it count, babe.” Marco warned lowly. “And if you get seen you have to wear a cock ring for a month.”

Ace’s head shot up before ducking down below the window line as he cursed. Yanking a blanket over them both as he pulled down Ray’s pants.

“Fine. You won’t be a fucking tease for me, right Ray? Going to make you scream like a whore.” Ace laid down over Ray, knocking the air from his lungs as he thrust in balls deep. Ray couldn’t help but gasp in shock as Ace held him down into the seat as he set to beating Marco’s time limit. “Let’s make Marco jealous he has to drive. C’mon. Say his name for me.” Ace panted, fucking Ray into the seat with considerable force.

Ray’s every breath being jackhammered out of him as Ace pulled his hair, forcing him to expose his neck for more hickeys and bites. His cunt burning from the fast pace. In spite of this—or maybe because of it—Ray could feel himself begin to tremble. Gasping and moaning as asked while Ace kept mocking him for it.

“Marc—oh~! Ah! M-Ma—ah—co~!” Ace laughed, forcing his thighs to spread out on the backseat. Ray wasn’t sure if it was the rapidly approaching climax or if he could feel Marco speeding up.

“Just like that! What a slut! Begging for someone else while I make you scream. Is this not good enough for you?” Ace smirked. The wet sound of him driving Ray mad audible over the dull hum of the engine.

“Yes! Y-Yes! A-Aceee~!” Ray cried out, shuddering as he clamped down on Ace so hard his cunt ached. Ray distantly heard Marco clear his throat but if anything, the sound motivated Ace to start moving faster.

The car door was yanked from Ray’s grip, dull garage lights visible suddenly as a blurry figure leaned over him. Hands held his head back as Marco leaned in close enough to accommodate Ray’s lack of vision. His glasses nowhere to be seen.

“You worried us, you know.” Marco said softly into Ray’s ear over the sound of wet sex and Ray’s own pitiful moans. “Running out into the cold like that, yoi. But you’ll make it up to us, won’t you slut?”

Ray whined as his thighs began to ache but Marco kept staring down at him with a dark smile. He kissed Ray once, a lingering soft kiss against Ace’s harsh thrusts.

There was the sound of a zipper as he stood up again. Ray squeezed his eyes shut as Marco’s hard cock pressed against his lips. Dazed and rapidly becoming overstimulated, Ray allowed Marco access. Ace’s hand pressed firmly over his throat as Marco slid inside. He struggled to breathe past the thick obstruction but managed. Barely.

“Fuck that’s hot. Think you can still say his name? You’re such a talented whore, I’m pretty sure you can. Go on. Show us.” Ace gripped Ray’s hips, tilting them up to reach deeper as he licked along Ray’s throat. Biting firmly for a long moment, forcing Ray to moan hard on Marco’s cock. “Our slut.” Ace sneered.

Ray moaned around Marco’s cock as hands gently cradled his face, holding him in place. Balls coming to rest firmly against his nose as he pressed in deep. Marco groaned and chuckled.

“Yeah, babe. Show us what our little slut can do, yoi.”

Ray barely had the presence of mind to cry out at this point. Sore and bruised, he took everything they gave him. Even though his thighs trembled and cunt ached from Ace’s abuse. And his throat burned around Marco’s relentless cock.

Because regardless of the future, he was theirs.

“Our slut.”

[munsontm]

DRUG & ALCOHOL ADDICTION: REVISED.

sb: so, you say eddie has an alcohol and drug addiction, huh?

me: oh yes, absolutely.

sb: golly, well, what the heck does alcohol and drug addiction mean?

me: well, in the case of edward munson. it goes a little something like this...

Addiction is marked by a change in behavior caused by the biochemical changes in the brain after continued substance abuse. Substance use becomes the main priority of the addict, regardless of the harm they may cause to themselves or others. An addiction causes people to act irrationally when they don’t have the substance they are addicted to in their system.

sb: i see, i see. but how did this all start?

me: let me tell you the tale of the bard...

Eddie had his first drink around the age of 9/10 courtesy of his father claiming that it would make him a man. Shocker, It did nothing. After that first time, Eddie sometimes drank just to please his father, not that it ever really made the asshole pleased at all. Eddie didn’t drink a lot, but it was enough, you know? No little kid should be consuming alcohol.

It was actually once Eddie was placed into Wayne’s care around 12 that things became worse. And not because of anything Wayne did, because Wayne was the first adult to treat Eddie well. But Eddie was traumatised by his childhood up till then. His mother had died when he was 10 in a car accident that Eddie concluded was suicide because she could no longer stand her situation with Eddie’s father, and would rather die than have to spend her life with him. She was only 19 when Eddie was born, and the Munson’s effectively ruined her life. She didn’t not love Eddie, but she wasn’t particularly present in his life. So, Eddie is likely right that his mother killed herself. And when it came to Eddie’s father, he tried so very hard in those 12 years to earn his father’s love and respect, which included stealing for him---hence the hotwiring ability he has. But it was never enough. No matter what Eddie did he was never given an ounce of love from his father.

And when Eddie’s dad finally went away for 20+ years on a number of charges. The bastard tried to place at least some of the blame on Eddie in hopes of knocking off some years. It was then that Eddie realised his father had never loved him in the slightest, and had only used him for personal gain. And this is where Eddie’s cynicism of love begins because of his father. 

Back to the trauma! Eddie’s way to deal with all these realisations, as well as the sudden shift in his life was to suppress them. He went back to drinking, but on a more regular basis. He started smoking both nicotine and weed. Now, I hate to push the whole weed as a gateway drug bs because it did wonders for myself. But for Eddie, who was under such emotional turmoil. Weed did end up becoming his gateway drug, and it remains his favourite drug. But it led him to trying hallucinogens, cocaine, pills of all sorts, opioids included, ketamine. The list just kinda grew over the years.

Post series when Eddie finally gets to leave Hawkins, one of the larger sources for his trauma. You might think that he could leave his old coping mechanisms behind. Wrong! Now he's living in big cities and living it up on the club scene where drugs are handed out like candy. And having been a drug dealer for some years, it's all too easy for Eddie to get ahold of whatever he wants whenever he needs. It's not so bad in those first few years, he mostly gets messy when he's out for the night. But he will drink and take drugs all night until the early morning hours, and that does eventually spill over into every day life as the years go by. It's a slow change.

Eddie's addictions heat up when CC hits the big time. Eddie is thrust into a world where drugs and booze are handed out like candy on a silver platter this time by producers, managers, other musicians, and even record labels! It's everywhere Eddie looks, and given the slippery slope he was already on. It's pretty much impossible for him to not end up spiralling deeper into addiction. Plus, it's expected of him by the music industry culture at the time, and Eddie doesn't want to let CC down by not playing the game after they tried for so long to enter the but leagues. It's probably the only time in Eddie's life where he conformed to peer pressure (not from the band tho!). Yikes.

Over the next few years, Eddie drastically changes. He becomes less reliable, more argumentative, more unpredictable and prone to sudden emotional outbursts. He always seems like he's on the verge of a mental breakdown; especially when on tour. Eddie becomes reckless with himself and irrational in his thoughts and actions. Yet, Eddie doesn't notice any of these changes. He thinks he's being the same old Eddie because the constant flow of drugs is altering his brain chemistry, so he doesn't notice the changes, which leads to arguments etc.

*The next entries pertain mostly to my main verse with harringtontm, but is also open to other muses ofc.

The only time Eddie seems remotely normal is when with his kids and Steve. But even that is strained due to him being away often while working. Things with Steve during this time aren't great as Steve has made himself aware of how bad things are in Eddieland. He's known longer than anyone else tbh, but didn't know how to address it like he wanted to. And now he's so focused on being a dad that he's even more distracted.

Unfortunately, Steve is forced to confront the problem when Eddie accidentally overdoses one afternoon on the bathroom floor and Steve has to save his life. It serves as an alarming wake up call for both of them and prompts a series of serious conversations that end with Eddie convinced about getting into rehab.

Ultimately, rehab is a game changer for Eddie. He leaves with an understanding of why he is an addict. Surprise, it's trauma! But also leaves with less understanding of who he is as a person. He spent so many years under the influence of drugs and alcohol that he has to question if that person was really Eddie, or part of the disease of addiction. It's a whole journey of self-discovery as well as one of recovery both physically and mentally. He'll always be an addict. That's just fact. It's incurable. He can be sober for many years and still have a relapse at any time. But he has a good support system, which is the most powerful tool an addict can have to stop that from happening.

[starswornoaths]

Prompt 20: Jailbird

I’m a bad at math gay, I have one more after this one, and THEN I’ll have my masterpost up ajsdfkdgl

Set post 2.5, prior to the start of 3.0. Uthengentle manages to escape the Braves, but he refuses to leave without a certain companion.

or: Uthen can’t save Raubahn but he can save a chicken, and that’s what he’s gonna do, by god

content warning: mention of use of restraints on a chocobo, but no injuries take place

Word count: 2,450

In the sennight following his revelation about what really happened to the Sultana, Uthengentle did his level best to keep up appearances—though he had begun to lay out what he hoped was a good enough plan to get out while protecting those who would still be trapped in the snare the Crystal Braves had become. In front of Ilberd— and Yuyuhase, who he suspected had far less noble intentions behind his particular brand of villainy— Uthengentle appeared as he had for months, as nothing more than a bitter brother who had made the ‘correct’ choice.

In his dealings with those who he was closest to, those who had given him a cold shoulder, however…he spoke softly. He reached out, for the first time, and nearly wept every time he was met with a relieved, “I’d hoped you’d come around,” every time he did. Suddenly he was warmed by their company again—and they were eager to help him break up the Braves to boot. So long as no one did anything reckless, and nothing suddenly broke out within the ranks…Uthengentle might actually pull this off while sparing as many innocents as possible.

And if something did blow up, as it was wont to do, well. He had thought of that, too.

The morning had been unseasonably cool, with crisp, cloudless skies and a gentle breeze on the wind. That was not to say that it was cold in Thanalan—could it truly ever be, he idly wondered—just that the weather could be described as pleasantly below boiling. As he walked the streets, he averted his eyes to those who looked upon him with disdain, who had spat at him— and worse— when he had worn the Braves uniform. At least now, he fully and truly understood why. He was not there to tarry, however; Ilberd was expecting him, and he would do well to keep up appearances.

Instinctual dread had settled in the pit of his stomach when Ilberd had instructed him to meet at the Royal Stables, where her Grace’s most prized birds were stalled. As if that were not enough cause for concern, he remembered who else’s chocobo was still there, unmoving and belligerent to all who approached him.

Sure enough, he only barely rounded the bend before he heard a muffled commotion, the percussion of a struggle against stall walls only interrupted by a panicked, angry wark!

Swallowing his heart, Uthengentle entered the stables.

The sight before him made him nauseated. Ilberd stood, flanked by Yuyuhase and Laurentius observing a mix of soldiers from both the Brass Blades and the Crystal Braves— but not the Flames­, Uthengentle noted bitterly— struggling to hold down a horrifically familiar snow white chocobo. The poor bird thrashed against the ropes they had tried to leverage to pin his torso down from jumping, his beak gnashing against the muzzle they struggled to put on it.

“Ullr,” Uthengentle said under his breath without thinking.

Ilberd turned toward his wayward protégé, alerted to his presence.

“There you are,” the newfound Braves Commander hailed him, his mouth set in a grim line.

Eyeing Uthengentle’s armor, Yuyuhase pursed his lips. “And not in uniform, I see,” he said in a snide voice.

“Local threw a piss jug at me.” Uthengentle lied easily. “Figured it’d be less disrespectful showing up in something clean.”

Really, he just felt dirty wearing the damned thing.

“You’d be right, Uthen.” Ilberd said, easing his frown into an almost sympathetic smile. Uthengentle ignored the rage that flickered in his chest at the nickname. “Good of you to come regardless. I have a task I would entrust to you.”

Already, Uthengentle could see where this was going. His stomach churned as he fought the urge to fidget.

“I could entrust this to no other, if I’m being honest.” Ilberd continued, oblivious— or uncaring— of Uthengentle’s growing unease. “I’ve been attempting to return this feathered fiend to the Maelstrom—we’ve no use for him, ornery bastard as he is.”

“I could calm him down, sir.” Uthengentle volunteered, hoping it would be enough and he wouldn’t be asked to do what he knew he would be asked to do. “I could even ride him to Vylbrand—“

“T’would be a waste of time and effort, I’m afraid.” Yuyuhase groused, and Uthengentle saw the way his lip curled into a snarl. “The Admiral does not acknowledge your sister’s treachery—“ Ullr let out a shrill wail and bucked his head against a Brave who had managed to secure the muzzle around him. “—and has declared that her crime is not permitted to be released to the public without an investigation.”

No fucking wonder, Uthengentle thought but did not say. Ullr’s cries of anger were muffled by the muzzle now, but they seemed louder than ever to his ears.

“Which leaves us with the unfortunate task of dealing with the bitch’s bird.” Ilberd said gruffly. Uthengentle hid his wince with a cough. “We’ve tried calming it down enough for transport to the Maelstrom, but in the ensuing struggle, one of my men was severely injured.”

Uthengentle highly doubted that was the case, but a part of him hoped it was true. He bit his tongue and nodded gravely.

Ilberd continued, “Now, ordinarily I would be fine with just letting the damnable thing out free, but with such wild antics, we wouldn’t want to put the public at risk of injury, now would we?”

“They’ve got a muzzle on him, sir.” Uthengentle said helplessly. “I can just walk him out to—“

“I would not unduly put any more of my men,” Ilberd emphasized with a pointed look to his lalafell companion. “At risk. Nor the Blades.” He turned to look back at his sister’s beloved companion, who was beginning to thrash harder as the panic well and fully set in. Uthengentle’s heart squeezed. “So I would entrust you to put that axe of yours to good use.” He clucked his tongue. “Waste of a perfectly good bird, but if it’s too imprinted on the Warrior of Light to be repurposed, then it needs to be disposed of.”

“Commander, I could—“ Laurentius spoke up, eager to prove himself.

“Uthengentle has already been assigned the task.” Ilberd said, turning away from the struggling chocobo to face the Arcbane Warrior fully. “Surely this is simple enough, no?” He pursed his lips. “Atonement for your failure at capturing the Sultana’s murderer.”

Uthengentle clenched his hands into fists, reminding himself to be calm because this was the kind of implosion he had planned for— he was only sorry Ullr got caught in the crosshairs.

“I won’t let you down—“ he tried to say.

“Again.” Ilberd cut him off sharply. “You won’t let me down again.”

“…No,” Uthengentle agreed slowly as he breathed out his rage. “I won’t.”

“Good.” Ilberd answered with a nod. He turned his attention to the men who were now pulling the ropes taut to force Ullr to be still. “Tie them off and step outside. No sense in getting your uniforms dirty.” With an almost bored flick of his gaze to Laurentius he ordered, “you, stay behind and help dispose of the body. And you,” he looked back at Uthengentle. “Make it a clean kill, eh? Don’t make the poor bird suffer.”

“Yessir.” Uthengentle ground out.

Satisfied that such unpleasant business was concluded, Yuyuhase was the first to dash off, clearly uncomfortable with witnessing the violence he was complicit in. Such cowards in power could rarely stomach the evidence of their own villainy, after all.

Ilberd stepped languidly back toward the door Uthengentle entered, but stopped long enough to place a hand upon his shoulder. Where that had once been a showing of brotherly companionship, Uthengentle could only liken it to the weight of his mistakes pressing down upon him.

“I know this must be hard.” Ilberd said— and perhaps he meant it, perhaps there was a spark of the man he once was in him that lamented what he had become. It didn’t matter. Uthengentle didn’t care. “But sometimes we have to do terrible things for the good of those lesser than us. For our home.” He squeezed his shoulder—in affection or in warning, Uthengentle couldn’t say. That didn’t matter either. “We know that well, don’t we?”

Uthengentle refused to tear his gaze away from Ullr, watching as the fight was worn out of him. As if he accepted his fate. Quietly, he replied, “I do. More than most.”

“That you do, my boy.” Ilberd said, removing his hand, leaving. “That you do.”

The doors closed, and it was just him and Laurentius, staring at the snow white chocobo in front of them. Ullr let out a low, crooning wark, defeated.

“This…this doesn’t feel like something we should be doing…” Laurentius admitted in a trembling voice. Slowly, he reached for his spear, clearly intent on helping carry out the deed. “But…but it’s just like Ilberd said, isn’t it? We do bad so good people don’t have to?”

“That’s what he said.” Uthengentle said, pausing long enough to give the fool one last chance to make the right decision for once.

“Still…” Laurentius lowered his head. “It’s hard…but we’ll carry it out.”

The disgraced Wood Wailer looked up when Uthegentle clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“Yeah,” the Warrior agreed with him. “Yeah, it’s hard. Damn hard.”

Without preamble, Uthengentle forcibly pulled Laurentius toward him as he pushed his own head forward—just hard enough that the lancer’s forehead met his helmet with a loud, dull clang. Laurentius crumpled to the floor, unconscious but alive.

“My ‘elm’s harder, though.” Uthengentle said conversationally to no one, and stepped over the slumped twofold traitor.

Wark? Ullr looked up, surprised.

“Easy, boy,” Uthengentle cooed, carefully but quickly using a dagger from his boot to cut the ropes holding him in place. “Easy, almost gotcha.” The ropes fell in messy piles much the same as Laurentius had, and once the last of them had been pulled from Ullr’s feathers, he unclasped the muzzle from his beak. “Atta boy.”

Ullr trilled and gave Uthengentle’s face a nuzzle, pleased that he was free and with someone he trusted.

“Now then,” Uthengentle said conspiratorially as he held Ullr’s face. “What say you we track down Ellie, eh?”

Wark! Ullr agreed with an enthused nod and a fluttering of his wings.

The doors had been shut, for a mercy, so he had just enough time to saddle Ullr up before anyone caught wise. He spared a moment of thanks to Buscarron as he mounted the bird— having smelled trouble on the horizon, the barkeep had insisted he stable his chocobo in Gridania for safekeeping. Easy enough to go through there on the way to Coerthas, leash Ullr to his own bird, and make for colder climes.  

Assuming, of course, they made it out of Ul’Dah.

Quick but muffled footfalls were approaching the front. They were running out of time. 

“Alright boy,” Uthengentle leaned over to speak gently into Ullr’s head feathers. “They’ll try to attack us, but we just keep runnin’, alright? We don’t stop until we find Ellie.” 

Wark! Ullr agreed, and Uthengentle guided them out of the back door. 

The sound of the heavy front doors of the stables bursting open alerted Uthengentle to the return of the guard. There was shouting— someone was barking an order to contact Ilberd. He bit back a grin as he spurred Ullr into a sprint down the alley. The shouting rapidly fell away, distantly echoing off the walls of the tightly cramped buildings…

...Only for a new chorus of voices to rise up ahead of him. In a wave of blue uniforms, they flooded the alleyway— with Ilberd spearheading their charge. 

But Uthengentle was prepared for this. Dragoon as he was, he channeled every second of training under Alberic and Estinien he’d gotten— and all of Estinien’s bastard energy he had absorbed— into leveling the sharpened lance at the tip of his axe’s handle, just above its head. He spurred Ullr into a faster sprint.

Ilberd intended to play chicken, it seemed, and doubled down, charging ahead, shield up and sword poised to slash.

But Uthengentle wasn’t willing to endanger Ullr for his own personal vendetta— and he had to get out of Ul’Dah besides. Biding his time until the absolute last second, with a tap of his heel and an order of, “ULLR, UP!” The chocobo leapt onto Ilberd’s shield and, using him as a leaping off point, soared delicately over the crowd of Braves behind him.

Uthengentle spared a glance over his shoulder once Ullr had landed back on solid brick and cackled at the sight of Ilberd knocked to the ground. When the Braves Commander rolled to look at his disappearing protégé, Uthengentle made a point of settling his axe on his back and slowly raising his arm, middle finger up, and held it there as he returned his attention to the road ahead of him.

More shouting— someone called for the gates to be closed to trap him in. Brass Blades began to shoulder past ordinary folk on the path to try and get to the gate lever. Uthengentle refocused and returned both his hands to the reigns. As he saw the gate of Thal descending ahead of him, he leaned further into Ullr’s feathers.

It’d be close, but he had no choice.

“I’ll keep you safe, Ullr, just don’t stop for anything!” He rallied the bird. “Let’s go find Ellie!”

Ullr let out a valiant cry and bent his neck low, pushing himself to run all the harder. The gate loomed overhead like a guillotine as they ran under it— they wouldn’t make it.

It didn’t matter. They had to.

It was a near miss, but with a well-timed swing of his axe, Uthengentle managed to use the momentum from swinging it from his back and use a strong enough fell cleave on the jagged gate spike that it stuttered against the mechanisms controlling it. Sparks showered all around them as they managed to push through, raining down from both the point where his axe blade met the gate, and from the now ground down gears in the pulley system above. With a roar, Uthengentle used that Fell Cleave to push the gate up some fulm above them, high enough they could safely sprint through, and smoothly remounted his axe on his back as they slipped away.

The gate slammed behind them so hard Uthengentle felt the ground shake beneath their feet. Indignant roars reached his ears, but if they were a distant worry before, they were music to his ears now as he eased Ullr into a marathon jog.

They had some ways to go before they made it to Coerthas, after all.

[the-iceni-bitch]

I Long to Be

Pairing: Mr Freezy x hit woman!reader (kitten), Officer Bill x hit woman!reader (PG only for now)

Words: ~2.1k

Summary: Your new dynamic has Bobby ready to explode.

Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (fingering, over the pants hand job, dry humping, mentions of oral and penetrative sex), emotional manipulation, reader is a massive bitch, slightly subby Bobby (what?!?!), cheating adjacent, domestic violence as foreplay, inappropriate behavior at a funeral, gossipy neighbors, SMUT!!!! 18+ ONLY!!!

A/N: This is mostly just setting the stage for the next arc I’m gonna do with our murderers but whoo boy are you sluts in for a treat! Sorry for inflicting the stache on you, but I’m just gonna lean into it.

I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!!!

You moaned softly when Bobby pulled you back against his chest, the hand that wasn’t digging into your tit buried knuckle deep in your cunt from behind as he stroked your walls slowly.

“No marks.” You ordered when you felt his teeth scrape over your pulse, ignoring the snarl he shot you through the mirror before settling for licking a thick stripe up the side of your neck. “Don’t fucking pout at me, pretty sure even those dumb fucks out there would notice if I walked out there with a hickey. Control yourself.”

“You need to quit being a fucking bitch.” He growled when you squeezed his cock before starting to stroke it through his slacks again. “It’s been five days, if I don’t feel that warm snatch wrapped around me soon, I’m gonna fucking kill someone.”

“Then you’ll just have to wait even longer, Bobby. I told you, we’re gonna drill some fucking self control into you.” You rolled your hips into his hand when his palm ground into your clit, dropping your head back against his shoulder and purring when you felt his cock throbbing under your palm. “Plus, I’m still pissed at you for the unbelievable pile of bull shit I had to dig you out of.”

“But… fuck, kitten.” He buried his face in your hair to cover his groan when you squeezed him again, bucking his hips into your grip and tugging softly at your nipple as you brought him towards his peak. “I fucking need it. You can just suck on the tip a little, just tide me over, I’m fucking dying.”

“You’re fucking dramatic, I’m still letting you come, so quit being a bitch.” You felt warmth bloom under your hand and smirked at him, your pussy sucking on his fingers as he started fucking them into you harder until you came with a broken sob.

“You goddamn cunt.” He looked furious when you pulled away from him, growling when you wrenched out of his grip to straighten your dress out. “I swear to god, you keep fucking holding out on me and I’m gonna split you in half in front of those cunts until you’re bleeding and begging me to stop.”

“No you’re not.” You shoved your tits back into your dress and did up the buttons. “You’re gonna play the grieving husband and father for as long as I tell you, and once I feel like the fucking heat has died down enough, maybe then you can get your dick wet. But until that happens, you’ll just have to settle for hands and dry humping. Now shut up and try to look wrecked.”

He didn’t have to try, he was wrecked. Dealing with your constant teasing without being able to actually fuck you had him feeling like his nerves were frayed to the limit, and topping that off with having to play the tormented widower was testing the self control you were adamant he exercise. There hadn’t even been any jobs for him to redirect his pent up rage, so he was stuck settling for furiously jerking himself every night as he longed for your perfect, warm cunt.

You gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder before opening the door and heading back out to the wake, not bothering to fix your face as it fit the narrative that Bobby had been comforting you while you cried yourself out. With how haggard he was, your stupid cunt neighbors had no problem accepting when you told them that you and Bobby had been supporting each other through this tough time. 

Bobby’s jaw was clenched tight as he stood at the edge of his living room, barely paying attention to the twats who kept coming up to him to tell him how sorry they were for his loss while he watched you act like the perfect grieving friend. You shot him a glare when he tried to move closer to you, hiding your smirk behind your drink and leaning against the wall when he accepted another unwanted embrace like a good little widower.

“Hi, Suzy?” You had to act quick to school your face when you turned and found the fucking cop who had flirted with you at the damn crime scene standing there, you had not expected to see him again.

“Officer Bill!” You caught Bobby start out of the corner of your eye, shooting him a glance to settle him before turning back to your surprising visitor. “Robert’s just over there, did you need to talk to him about something? I thought everything was closed.”

“It is, and please just call me Bill.” He gave you a nervous smile and stepped a little closer to you, fidgeting with his hands as he struggled with what to say to you. “I just… I couldn’t stop thinking about you and I know these things tend to put all the focus on the family but I wanted to make sure you were ok? Since she was your best friend, I’m sure things are hard.”

Oh shit. Your flirting had worked a little too well, this boy was sweet on you. It took some doing for you to fight the pleased smile that tried to spread across your face, especially when you caught Bobby glaring at you over the cop’s shoulder when the man reached and gave your arm a reassuring squeeze. 

“It’s been so hard.” You gave a small sob and could have laughed when he drew you into his chest, burying your face in the warm planes of muscle as he did his best to comfort you. “I feel so alone now. I’d usually talk to Mary about this, but now I have no one. Maybe I could talk to Robert but he’s suffering so much worse than me, I don’t want to burden him any more.”

“God, you’re so sweet, honey.” You managed to disguise your snort as another sob, pressing your body close to his and trying not to grin when he settled his hands at the small of your back, “You can talk to me, Suzy.”

“Bill, you just met me.” This was working out great for you; a dumb cop who was already wrapped around your finger and a new way to piss off Bobby, what could be better? “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Baby, no, never.” He gave you a soft smile when you lifted your head to meet his gaze, cupping your face in one massive palm and gently brushing his thumb over the curve of your cheek in an effort to soothe you. “I just wanna help, but we don’t have to do anything you don’t want, ok?”

“Okay.” You leaned into his cheek and sighed softly as you batted your eyelashes at him, it had been a while since you had played this game, but seems like you were still a fucking pro. “Thank you.”

“It’s my pleasure, darlin’.” You let him give your waist a squeeze before stepping back, your eyes finding Bobby’s and narrowing at the look of unbridled rage you found there until he was cowed. “There’s a little bakery near here if you wanna have some privacy.”

He nodded towards the gaggle of housewives that was watching you with interest while the rest of your neighbors started filtering home and you sighed, accepting his hand and letting him lead you towards the front door while you gave Bobby one more warning glance to keep him from doing something stupid. As soon as the door closed behind you the busybodies went crazy, whisper shouting at each other as they tried to keep some semblance of decorum while they packed up all the leftovers and helped Bobby clean up, or rather, did all the cleaning while Bobby started downing scorch like it was his job.

Thirty minutes later and he was finally alone, exhausted from all the unwanted hugs and sympathies he had to endure and wanting nothing more than to lose himself in you. But he couldn’t because you were still out with that fucking cop. He sulked in the chair at the front window, watching your house as he slowly drained the bottle of scotch and tried to keep himself from imagining what you might be doing with that fucker.

By the time the bastard’s car finally pulled up in front of your house an hour later, the bottle was empty, Bobby wallowing in a pool of self pity that he never would have admitted to and growling when he watched the officer help you out of the car and lead you to your front door with an arm around your waist. When he watched him give you a peck on the cheek he almost lost it, dropping the bottle and cursing when he heard it smash against the floor. At least you didn’t invite him inside, sending him on his way with a little wave before strolling into your house without a second glance. 

Bobby waited a few minutes after the cocksucker pulled away before storming over to your place, barely keeping himself together until he was able to knock on your front door. 

“Hey there, Bobby.” You gave him a wicked grin when you opened the door, stepping aside and letting him in. 

“The fucking cop?” He was itching to slap you, or maybe choke you, he was absolutely furious.

“Bobby, Bobby, Bobby.” You shoved him a little and snorted when he stumbled slightly. “Drunk again. What the fuck am I gonna do with you?”

“Fuck me.” He was so drunk he didn’t even care anymore, grabbing you by the back of your neck and dragging your face to his until his lips were devouring yours.

“Jesus, did I fucking break you, Bobby?” You chuckled when he growled in response and shoved you against the wall, grinding his hardened cock into your hip as he tried to wrap his hands around your throat. “No fucking marks! God, still haven’t learned, have you?”

Your slap sent him reeling, the only thing that kept him upright being your tight grip on his collar as you watched him with mock concern. He tried to snarl at you when you gripped his jaw in one hand, shaking his head with a demeaning tut before leaning forward to bite at his lips.

“You need to dump that fucking cop, kitten.” He purred into your mouth when you wound one leg around his hip and dragged him into you, letting him rock against you slowly with a low moan as his dick twitched in his pants.

“And you still need to fucking control yourself, instead of charging over to your single neighbor’s house like a bat out of hell right after your wife’s funeral when you know every fucking busybody in the neighborhood is gonna be watching us like a bunch of hawks.” You let him lift your other leg to wrap around him, pressing you into the wall and moaning into your neck as he ground right against your clit. “I’ll make you a deal Bobby; you manage to keep that temper of yours reined in and the neighbors off our backs for a whole month while I make that sweet, dumb cop fall in love with me, and I’ll let you do whatever he does to me, so you don’t combust.”

“You’re such a bitch.” His breath against your neck was desperate, the rhythm of his hips writhing against you growing frantic as you both neared your ends. “You let him fuck you and I don’t care, kitten, I’ll fucking kill him.”

“Aww, don’t worry baby, it’ll just be the tip.” You laughed when he snarled into your throat, forcing himself to pull back before he sank his teeth into you so you didn’t decide to torture him even more. “Look at you being so good, and I didn’t even mention your reward.”

“What is it?” Christ, you were just whipping men left and right today.

“Once I get that moron to give me his whole heart, I’ll let you help me break it.” He hit you at the perfect angle and you shuddered with bliss, your release soaking the front of his slacks as his own filled his briefs. “But in a way that keeps him wrapped around my little finger so we can use him if we need to.”

“Ugh, fuck. Fine.” He sighed defeatedly into your neck. “But if I haven’t had my dick sucked once by this time in two weeks, I’m getting a fucking toy.”

[patt-writes-stuff]

Beach Days with The Genshin Characters!

Wc: 1.7k+

Type: Headcanons

CW: umm nothing except mentions of alcohol and maybe people being creeps? (None of the chars or you tho it’s very brief)

A/N: HI IM BACK FROM THE DEAD! These were supposed to be a lot shorter but I got too excited. If you by any chance wanna see some for your fav character lmk! I know it says request are closed in my bio but since it’s just hcs it’s a lot less (and I really enjoyed writing these so ajdhdhdk)

🔥Diluc:

This man cannot swim. Tell me otherwise, I dare you.

Kaeya tried to jokingly push him off a lil diving cliff area when they were kids.

He almost drowned. Kaeya was in a lot of trouble.

So, good luck getting this man to actually get in the water. The most he’ll do is sit on the shore where it’s very shallow.

He usually prefers to just stay under an umbrella on the sand and keep an eye on you.

Calls you every two hours in advance and helps you reapply sunscreen.

He’s very pale so I feel like he burns pretty easily, meaning he needs to reapply super frequently otherwise he will become a tomato. He brings like three bottles of the good shit. Tch, rich boy.

If you ask him to build a sandcastle, he will pretend to be annoyed but do it anyways. Ends up finding it kind of enjoyable.

He has the maids prepare a nice picnic basket for the two of you!! It’s got all your favorite foods plus grape juice cuz y’know.

If any creepy peeps approach you, don’t worry. He brought his vision and his claymore.

Of course, he won’t have to resort to such violent lengths. Everyone in Mondstadt knows who Diluc is and they probably know you’re his s/o, so they’re usually smart enough to mind their own business.

If they don’t, don’t worry. Diluc’s glare is more than enough to scare them away.

All in all I definitely recommend a beach day with him! I’ll give it a solid 8/10 (-2 for not wearing floaties and getting in the water with you or letting you teach him how to swim.

🖌Albedo:

You guys definitely 100% take Klee out with you on a beach day.

You guys bring snacks, beach toys like buckets and shovels for optimal sandcastle building, a picnic blanket, etc.

Jean definitely packs a lot more stuff for you guys to take with you than you actually need.

It’s only cuz she’s worried for Klee and is nervous about not being able to go with you guys though! It’s very sweet really.

Klee tries to bomb the fish and cause havoc at the beach 😭

I think Albedo is a good swimmer and gets in with you and Klee so that he can help her (which is very cute omfg)

He’s set total workaholic, as we know, so it took a lot of convincing to get him to put down his experiments and accompany you to the beach (however, he’s particularly weak to yours and klee’s puppy dog eyes so he caved eventually)

Though, looking at you and Klee happily building sandcastles and decorating them with pretty seashells of all shapes and colors, he can’t really find it in himself to complain.

He, of course, takes this opportunity to take out his sketchbook and draw the waves, seagulls, you… Of course he won’t let you see the sketch book no sir. He’s a bit embarrassed to be honest, but an artist such as himself recognizes beauty when he sees it so he simply had to draw you. (God I love him so much)

If a creepy person approaches you,- well don’t worry. The sight of a small arsonist child blowing up fish is enough to scare them away 🥰

At the end of the day, all three of you are all ticketed out. Albedo has to carry Klee back to Mondstadt because the poor baby fell asleep the moment you started drying her hair with the beach towel. You’re, of course, carrying back Dodoco and your bags. (You also manage to sneak a peak at Albedo’s sketchbook and find some very pretty drawings of you and Klee with your sandcastle)

At the end of the day, you guys tuck Klee in and read her a bedtime story (she woke up and insisted). Afterwards Albedo takes you back home and thanks you for coming with you and Klee (which you ofc say wasn’t a problem because how could you not???)

All in all? I’ll give it a solid 10/10. You’ve got tasty food, fun times, your boyfriend and his cute kid adoptive sister (yes I am very biased idc)

🦋Xiao:

I think it would take a lot of convincing to get Xiao to go out on a beach date with you.

He’ll probably see it as a distraction getting in the way of his slaying of monsters and demons.

However, he also worships the grounds you walk on (hehe, simp XD), so I don’t think it’ll take that much convincing on your part (especially because it’s is self appointed duty to keep you safe so if you insist on going with or without him, he supposes he’ll have to go)

Is definitely a bit tense at first. He doesn’t know how to let loose and chill so while you’re sun tanning on a beach chair he’s like 🧍‍♂️ahdgshjsjd

Eventually calms down a bit though! You get him to relax and eat some almond tofu you brought along with you. It definitely gets him to perk up.

I don’t think he would mind getting into the water but I do think he’d rather walk along the shore and collect pretty seashells and sea glass.

He later gives the ones he deems pretties to you (he hands them over to you with a blush on his face and pretends it’s not a big deal and he definitely gets all pouty and grouchy when you coo at how adorable he is)

As for creeps, Xiao is both intimidating and well known in Liyue. No one is brave enough (or, let’s be honest, dumb enough) to approach you with any bad intentions.

Sure, Xiao has sworn never to harm a human/citizen of Liyue but that doesn’t mean he can’t scare the absolute shit out of them.

I think Xiao would definitely enjoy a beach day 🥺🥺. He’d find it very relaxing to go out with you and just hear the sound of waves and feel the sand under his feet.

He’d definitely hint at wanting to do it again later. Of course, he won’t tell you. No, that’s a foolish mortal activity and he has much better things to do.

Wait no, don't turn around, yes he will go with you next month.

All in all, I give Xiao a 9/10. It’s a very relaxing day (which he deserves 😤). And you get to see a whole new side of him.

💎Ningguang:

OK SO ORIGINALLY I WASN'T GONNA WRITE ONE FOR HER (at least not in this post) BUT THEN I THOUGHT OF LADY NINGGUANG TAKING YOU TO A WHOLE ASS PRIVATE BEACH

She knows you don’t care about how exclusive the beach you go to is (in fact, the fact that you don’t care about where you are or what you do is one of the things that make her fall more and more madly in love with you) but you deserve the best so she’s gonna go all out.

She’s a busy lady so days like this where the two of you get to go somewhere and be together are few and far between.

She knows it’s hard to be in a relationship with someone who is busy 24/7, so she appreciates how you remain by her side despite all hardships. (Y’all are a whole ass power couple istg)

The two of you spend your day relaxing. Sun bathing, drinking piña coladas, maybe taking a dip in the ocean. It’s all very pleasant!

Ningguang doesn’t quite feel like the type of person who would sit in the sand and make sandcastle, however you’re more than welcome to make some yourself. She finds it endearing <3

If you insist on her helping, she’ll eventually comply. She loves you too much to say no. I feel like she’ll either be terrible at it or like a total architect.

Sand is technically like tiny rocks right? So maybe she can use her vision to help her? If that’s the case, she’s making a replica of the Jade chamber out of sand.

If any creepy person comes up to you don’t worry. Ningguang will buy the whole beach and then use her right of admission as owner to permanently ban them from the beach you’re at.

The only downside to a day at the beach with Ningguang might be that there’s a big chance she’ll be called to tend urgent matters, seeing as she is the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing and all.

If that does happen, she’ll be sure to make it up to you somehow, whether it be rescheduling or taking care of the matter as soon as possible so that the two of you can get back to your day of relaxation and fun.

All in all?? Lady Ningguang will treat you like total royalty and the two of you will have an amazing time! I give her an 11/10 (she would literally buy a whole beach for you to be comfortable I mean c’mon)

🍃Venti:

BEACH DAYS WITH HIM ARE SO FUN!!

Swimming? Yeah, he’d love to! Sunbathing? Sure! He’ll ever conjure up a light breeze for the two of you. Sandcastle building? WELL OF COURSE WHY DO YOU THING HE BROUGHT ALL THESE BUCKETS AND SHOVELS?

No but seriously, he might be the best person out of everyone here to go to the beach with. He’s fun, free spirited, and he’s a traveling bard who’s been alive long enough to know where all the best beaches in Teyvat are. (He also knows a guy- er, well, dragon I suppose- who is willing to fly them to any place).

He’ll play some soft tunes while you doze under the sun.

HE PICKS PRETTY SHELLS AND GIFTS THEM TO YOU!!!

He will bring booze. I’m pretty sure this is a necessity. If you’re a little upset about it, he’ll probably “eheh~” his way out of it. That slick bastard.

If you really insist on him not drinking, he won’t consume much alcohol.

If some creepy person approaches you and tries to ruin you your day of beach time fun, all of their stuff will suddenly be blown away, causing them to scramble back to their spot and (almost embarrassingly) flail around trying to catch everything. What a shame…

At the end of the day, he’d be a little sad to leave. Definitely makes plans about tbe two of you going back soon.

I gotta give him a 10/10 he’s just so fun omg.

[luxaofhesperides]

stealing clothes

college au ft. domestic joongdok. i am so predictable.

also on ao3.

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Kim Dokja is extremely lucky to have Yoo Joonghyuk as his roommate. Not just because Yoo Joonghyuk is the campus heartthrob and Kim Dokja is the one who gets to see him everyday, and not because Yoo Joonghyuk is the perfect house husband, cleaning and cooking because he banned Kim Dokja from doing both. 

While both those things are nice, the best part about having Yoo Joonghyuk as his roommate is stealing his shirts. 

Not to do anything weird! They’re just… comfortable.

He even got permission! For the first few, at least. 

It all starts because Yoo Joonghyuk was going to throw out perfectly good shirts that have been worn and washed enough to become soft, the type of softness that even the most high quality shirts can’t capture. They weren’t dirty, or torn, just old. So Kim Dokja protests this and tries to get Yoo Joonghyuk to keep them, only for him to scowl and throw the shirts at him.

“You keep them then,” he said, then left. And Kim Dokja did. 

He’s well aware that wearing his hot roommate’s shirts might be (is) weird, so he only wears them on long nights when he needs some extra comfort to get him through his last assignments, or when Yoo Joonghyuk isn’t home. He never wears them when Yoo Joonghyuk might see. He’d rather die. 

And because his wonderful roommate is out for the night, no doubt at a party celebrating his latest gaming tournament win, Kim Dokja is settled in for a long night of reading, curled up on the couch in one of Yoo Joonghyuk’s old shirts. It’s long enough to reach down past his thighs, so he doesn’t bother wearing pants, and a blanket over his shoulders helps with the chill his exposed collarbones bring. 

The apartment is quiet, most people out or sleeping, and the latest update of his favorite web novel is a long one. And should he get hungry, there’s dinner in the fridge, courtesy of Yoo Joonghyuk who is very determined to get Kim Dokja eating more regularly. 

It’s been too long since he was able to be so relaxed and comfortable. No urgent deadlines, no projects to stress about, no tests in the near future hanging over his head like a guillotine. 

He’s so comfortable that halfway through the chapter he’s reading, Kim Dokja begins nodding off. The living room is gradually getting darker as the sun begins to set, and he sees no reason why he shouldn’t take a nap; his sleep schedule is fucked anyways, a little rest won’t hurt him at all.

The sound of the door opening rouses him. 

Distantly, Kim Dokja hears a lock click and a heavy sigh, but half-awake, he can’t be sure if it’s real or part of a dream. 

He opens sleep-heavy eyes to a dark living room; he must have been sleeping for a few hours, long enough for the sun to fully set and the moon to shine brightly. His entire body feels heavy and slow. 

Slowly, Kim Dokja sits up, the blanket falling off his shoulders to pool around his hips. He stretches his arms up above his head, arching his spine a bit, drawing out the stretch as he shakes off the last of his nap. 

Behind him, someone chokes. 

Startled, Kim Dokja drops his arms and turns to see Yoo Joonghyuk standing in front of the hallway, staring at him with wide eyes. He’s… shirtless. Kim Dokja quickly looks away. 

“When did you get back?” he asks, trying to break the strange tension that suddenly fills the apartment.

Yoo Joonghyuk is silent for a few moments before Kim Dokja hears him step closer. “Just a few minutes ago. I thought you were asleep.”

“I was. Is it late?”

The light turns on suddenly and Kim Dokja winces, blinking to clear the spots from his vision. 

“It’s only nine.” 

Huh. He wasn’t asleep for too long then. He feels the couch dip and looks up to see Yoo Joonghyuk sitting right next to him instead of anywhere else on their rather large couch. He’s staring at Kim Dokja’s chest, which makes him shift uncomfortably. 

He glances down to see what has Yoo Joonghyuk’s attention. There’s no stains or anything…

Then his heart stops for a solid minute. He’s wearing Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirt. And Yoo Joonghyuk knows it’s his old shirt because it’s way too big for Kim Dokja! 

Please don’t bring it up, Kim Dokja mentally begs, trying to send the plea into Yoo Joonghyuk’s head. 

“Isn’t that one of my old shirts?” he asks. Telepathy has failed. Kim Dokja changes to Plan B which is Fake His Death And Start A New Life. 

“Uh. Yeah. You gave it to me,” Kim Dokja answers, hoping Yoo Joonghyuk won’t think he’s weird and kick him out. He’s not willing to give up the best roommate he’s ever had! He just can’t go back to living with the worst people in existence, who treat him horribly and steal his things. He just can’t. 

“I’ve never seen you wear them,” Yoo Joonghyuk says instead of demanding that Kim Dokja move out. 

“I don’t wear them often.”

Yoo Joonghyuk’s eyes dart farther down. “You’re also not wearing pants.”

Kim Dokja pulls the blanket over his legs and tries to pretend Yoo Joonghyuk didn’t just say that. “Well, you’re not wearing a shirt! You’re only wearing…” he trails off, finally letting himself look at Yoo Joonghyuk. Those sweatpants look familiar. They look just like the ones he thought he lost months ago. “...Isn’t that mine?”

“...Our laundry must have gotten mixed up.”

That’s a lie. Yoo Joonghyuk is not one to mix up their laundry. They’ve never accidentally taken each other’s clothes. 

Kim Dokja smiles and Yoo Joonghyuk looks away, his ears turning red. “Joonghyuk-ah,” he says sweetly in a way that Yoo Joonghyuk knows is a threat.

“I don’t see why I can’t have some of your clothes if you have mine.”

“My clothes don’t fit you! And besides, isn’t it strange for us to be sharing clothes?”

“No. You should wear my clothes more often. You look good in them.”

Kim Dokja has no response to that. He freezes, then ducks his head, trying to hide his quickly warming cheeks. 

Yoo Joonghyuk, the bastard that he is, doesn’t let Kim Dokja hide. He wraps an arm around Kim Dokja’s waist and pulls him closer, hard enough to send him falling against his side. “Stop being so shy and wear my shirts while I’m around.”

“Shut up. Aren’t you supposed to be at a party?”

“I got bored and left early. I prefer being here with you.”

“Don’t think sweet talking is going to make me forget about you stealing my sweatpants.”

“Oh?” Yoo Joonghyuk runs a large hand down Kim Dokja’s spine, making him shiver. “What should I do then?”

“Nothing!” Kim Dokja hits his chest, but makes no moves to put any space between them. He is not going to be thinking about why. “Anyways, aren’t you tired? You should go to sleep since you spent hours at that tournament. Congratulations on another win, by the way.”

Smiling, Yoo Joonghyuk leans closer, forcing Kim Dokja to bend back a bit, putting more of his weight on Yoo Joonghyuk’s arm. “You were watching?”

“I always watch when you compete. What’s the point of having a popular gamer for a roommate if I can’t brag about him?”

Without another word, Yoo Joonghyuk collapses on top of him, crushing him against the couch.

“Hey!” Kim Dokja flails, then smacks Yoo Joonghyuk’s shoulder. “What’s that for!”

“You’re right, I am tired.”

“Then go to bed!” 

Yoo Joonghyuk tightens his grip on Kim Dokja’s waist, then nuzzles into his neck. The feeling of his hair brushing against his neck makes Kim Dokja shiver, not quite tickling him but just enough to have the sensation send sparks down his spine. 

He sighs softly, and feeling it against his skin brings a deep blush to Kim Dokja’s cheeks. “I’d prefer to stay here for the night,” Yoo Joonghyuk says. Kim Dokja grumbles about being squished beneath the heavy weight of his body, but ultimately decides to indulge himself and stay. 

They stay like that, sleeping on the couch, all through the night. They both wake with stiff necks in the morning, but Kim Dokja doesn’t mind at all when it lets him stay in Yoo Joonghyuk’s embrace a little longer.

Things change after that. 

Kim Dokja wouldn’t call them friends, per se. Not before That Night. Roommates, yes. Acquaintances who get along well, yes. Friends? No. 

But now, he’s not too sure what to call their relationship. They live together so they have to spend some time together, but school keeps them both busy and Kim Dokja often spends his time at the library with Han Sooyoung and Yoo Sangah while Yoo Joonghyuk streams and goes to tournaments. 

It’s more accurate to say they exist in the same space, than to say that they spend time together. 

They get along well enough, which is why they’ve renewed their lease together for another year, but somehow, after That Night Yoo Joonghyuk is suddenly… sticky.

He’s constantly making food for them. More so than before. He asks for Kim Dokja’s preferences instead of just silently handing him a plate?

Kim Dokja stares at the box of pasta in his hands. He doesn’t understand why he’s grocery shopping with Yoo Joonghyuk, but he’s gone with it for too long and can’t ask any questions now.

“Did you want pasta?” Yoo Joonghyuk asks, appearing behind him without warning. Kim Dokja jumps a little, then glares at him, annoyed by how amused he looks.

“I don’t know. Maybe. I can just buy instant noodles.”

Scowling, Yoo Joonghyuk grabs the box of pasta from his hands and adds it to the cart. “Absolutely not. I’ll make noodles for you later.”

“You can make noodles from scratch?”

“It’s not hard.”

Kim Dokja would marry Yoo Joonghyuk right that very second if asked. He also doesn’t understand why Yoo Joonghyuk is suddenly spoiling him, but he’s not going to question a good thing. He’s going to get as much as he can out of this, because who knows when it will end?

So he bumps his hip against Yoo Joonghyuk’s with a smile as they walk down the aisle, and asks, “Can we get ice cream?”

Yoo Joonghyuk does not answer for a long minute, then glances at Kim Dokja’s hopeful expression and sighs. “Fine.”

He really is getting spoiled.

Kim Dokja fully intends to use this knowledge for evil.

Another thing that’s changed: clothes. 

Since Kim Dokja didn’t complain enough about his sweatpants being stolen before he fell asleep, Yoo Joonghyuk decided he could just take Kim Dokja’s most comfortable sweatpants and wear them whenever he wants. So what if he looks really good! They’re still Kim Dokja’s and he will hold this grudge for as long as he needs to. 

He intends to steal more of Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirts as revenge, except he doesn’t need to steal anything. Because Yoo Joonghyuk just leaves his shirts in Kim Dokja’s room. So he wears them and tries not to get flustered when Yoo Joonghyuk stares at him each time he walks out of his room wearing something Yoo Joonghyuk left him. 

It’s a losing battle.

On the bright side, he no longer has to hide it. It’s still embarrassing, but he’s getting more and more used to lounging in the living room in Yoo Joonghyuk’s shirts. 

The hungry look Yoo Joonghyuk gives him is also nice to see. 

Kim Dokja may be the king of denial, but even he can’t lie to himself with how obvious Yoo Joonghyuk is being. Nor can he pretend that he isn’t doing this for that exact reason, or spending more time at the apartment to be with him. 

They’re both pushing in little ways, but it’s not enough for him to be willing to push their relationship out of the cloud of ambiguity its currently in. 

Before he knows it, half his closet is Yoo Joonghyuk’s clothes, and he has to go to Yoo Joonghyuk’s room to grab a pair of sweatpants to study in because all of them got stolen. The rude bastard really has no shame. 

“Why don’t we just keep our clothes in the same room?” Yoo Joonghyuk suggests after Kim Dokja complains to him about this. 

“Whose room?”

“Mine. Just take all your things into my room. I’ll make space for you.”

And so Kim Dokja suddenly finds himself sharing a room with Yoo Joonghyuk. And then sharing a bed. And then waking up with him to his absurdly early alarm. 

They’re not dating, and he says as much to Han Sooyoung when talking about this; she just rolls her eyes and calls him and idiot for not realizing what’s going on. 

She has absolutely no room to talk, being in a friends-with-benefits relationship with Yoo Sangah instead of just asking her out on a date like normal people would. 

They’re not dating, but Kim Dokja leans into him when they watch a movie together after rejecting a party invite. They’re not dating, but Yoo Joonghyuk kisses his cheek each morning before he gets up to make breakfast. They’re not dating, but Kim Dokja will settle into Yoo Joonghyuk’s lap while wearing nothing but one of his shirts to finish a reading for one of his classes. 

They’re not dating, but he certainly wants to. 

However, Kim Dokja would sooner pass away then actually talk about his feelings, so he bottles it up, greedily hoards all the affection he gets from Yoo Joonghyuk, and hopes he makes his move soon because Kim Dokja is starting to get impatient.

In the meantime, he’ll steal another shirt and pretend he didn’t do it on purpose just to get Yoo Joonghyuk to look at him. 

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC’s half Demon, and they look AWFULLY familiar...

‘Kay guys, I got a different kind of stupid Headcanon to throw at you. Get ready!

Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Part 2.5 Group Retreat Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

*ahem* picture if you will, it’s the day the exchange program is set to start. The student council (nix Mr. Kill All Humans, Weeb-supreme, and our Scummy Sweetheart) have assembled to welcome the new human student. All is going according to schedule, the portal opens up at eight am sharp, they hear the pitiful screams of the selected human who was not given a heads up about the whole thing, and the poor little human falls straight onto the marble floor.

There’s something a tad... off about this human don’t you think? After they’ve peeled their sorry ass off the floor they observed the assembled student council with an air of sophistication and self importance that no one expected. Their posture was perfect, their eyes sharp and calculating... they bared a striking resemblance to-

“Lucifer,” Diavolo looked to his right hand man, then back to the human. “The human kind of looks like you!”

And out popped four pitch black wings from the human’s back and two small horns out of the sides of their head, one horn was a bit bigger than the other. They even still had some of their down feathers! How cute!

((Content warning: Swearing (I have a potty mouth, forgive me), but that’s it.))

Luci-dad

So, the MC is Lucifer’s kid! Of course Mr. Prideypants immediately tries to recall exactly what little romp in the human world uh... spawned this half-human half-demon child of his. Good thing MC’s got the other parent on speed-dial.

“Please note, MC,” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose upon hearing Asmo take even more pictures of his newly discovered hellspawn. “I was not aware of your existence, if I was I’d-”

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not upset.”

Lucifer blinked a few times in surprise. “P...pardon? You aren’t upset?”

“No, my parent told me that my father was a high ranking demon, and they bare no ill will against you. Though, I am looking forward to this whole... exchange program thing.”

Oh wow, that was easier than Lucifer thought. Damn. Well, he was a father... (let’s be real, he’s been parenting his brothers for thousands of years, and a good chunk of you sinners call him daddy)

MC is probably the most protected student at RAD, despite the fact that they have no visible security detail whatsoever. They didn’t want to be seen as... weak and pathetic.

Something about this human just... set the lesser demons on edge. Any talk of eating them was stamped out on the first day when they walked by. It’s like Lucifer himself was staring at them, daring the demons to try and bother the human. MC’s powerful presence kept them protected and feared.

...at least until dear uncle Asmo decided to do their hair one morning. All those ribbons may have looked adorable but they kind of ruined the intimidation factor.

MC loved to mess with the other students, keeping their lineage a secret for the first little while just made it so much funnier when the other demons tried to scramble out of MC’s way without looking like they were running from the ‘weak little human exchange student’.

Oh wow, what a sadist. Like father like child

Flying lessons are a must. Poor MC isn’t terribly good at controlling their wings, and their horns are still growing in so when they pop into their demon form the first thing they get is a sore skull. Ow... it sucks that Lucifer isn’t outwardly very sympathetic.

“Ow!” MC crashed face first into the grass in the backyard of the House of Lamentation. “Father! My wings are cramping! Can’t we practice this tomorrow?”

The sight of seeing his dear child crash face first into the ground had lost its hilarity after the first three times. Lucifer slowly lowered himself to the ground and crossed his arms as he stood over his incredibly grass-stained kid.

“MC, we’ve been ‘practicing this tomorrow’ for the past month. If you want to learn to fly you’re going to have to actually manage to stay in the air for more than three minutes.”

MC shot Lucifer a withering glare that only preteens were capable of, Lucifer matched it with his own much more sophisticated glare.

“You’ve been flying for over a thousand years! Don’t you have any tips that can actually help other than ‘don’t panic, you’ll look ridiculous’?”

Lucifer dragged a gloved hand down his face and looked around, the two were alone as far as he could see.

“MC,” Lucifer began. “When I was a young angel, I needed to learn how to fly with someone else.”

MC perked up. “Who?”

“Michael. The smug bastard picked up flying quicker than I did.”

“What’d you do?!”

Lucifer smiled at his child’s intense investment. “I practiced flying every day for five extra hours until I could do everything that Michael could do, just better.”

MC’s starry eyed interest died almost instantly upon hearing about the extra five hours of practice. “Humph, I bet I could outfly younger you and Michael with only two hours of practice a day.”

“Really now?”

“Yes! Watch!” MC shook off their wings and took off in a running start before shakily making it into the air. Their form was decent enough, and they weren’t shaking as much as the previous attempts. “SEE?!”

“Yes MC,” Lucifer smiled. “I can see.”

You know what else Lucifer could see? MC crashing right into a tree.

“Ouch...”

Okay... maybe they could halt practice a little early and order a treat from Madame Scream’s. A little sugar to refuel is needed when the end goal is crushing a mutual rival beneath their heels. Just some good old fashioned father/child bonding time!

MC has a smaller seat right next to Lucifer’s seat in the Assembly Hall. I will not compromise on this one.

For all your fluff needs, I give you: Lucifer teaching MC how to play the piano. He has a proud little smile on his face when his kid finally starts getting it. That’s all. Enjoy the image.

That one Uncle who gives you Alcohol at Family Gatherings (Mammon)

Yeah, when Mammon burst in late to the party and whining about everyone’s spamming him with texts to haul his scummy ass to the Assembly Hall, the last thing he expected was to see a mini-Lucifer.

“What the fuck am I lookin’ at?!”

The glare the two Lucifers gave the poor Avatar of Greed was enough to make him want to turn tail (uh, wing) and book it down the hall.

“Mammon, this is MC. They’re my child.”

“Hello.”

“...whaaaa..?” Mammon looked between the two, same glare, same intimidating aura, same annoyingly good posture.

Mammon scratched the back of his neck and looked over at his older brother. “Do I uh... still gotta babysit em’ if they’re not human?”

“The lake of Cocytus will melt the day I let you babysit without supervision.” Lucifer grumbled.

“I don’t need a babysitter!”

Despite Lucifer’s initial denial, Mammon and MC ended up spending a lot of time hanging out when Lucifer was busy with paperwork. Of course Mammon’s first thought was ‘how do I profit off this situation?’

MC is now Mammon’s designated babysitter after they caught him picking up their feathers that had fallen off with the intention of painting them white and claiming they were Lucifer’s from back in the Celestial Realm.

Mammon does end up spoiling MC a little. Just a smidge. They’re the kid of his totally not his favourite brother after all! How could he not? Whether or not these gifts are obtained legally or are legal at all is subject to scrutiny.

“Mammon, I can’t drink this!” MC placed the bottle of Demonus back on the counter of the kitchen.

“Why not? That’s a bottle of the good stuff! We gotta celebrate you gettin’ an A on that test somehow!”

“I’m underage! Incredibly underage. I’m not legally allowed to drink.”

Mammon wordlessly plopped a silly straw into the bottle. “...does that help?”

“No.” MC then inclined their head to the bottle. “And I don’t want to get hung from the ceiling, that bottle was in my father’s study yesterday, I’m above theft.”

“How old are you s’posed to be anyway? Never mind... uh...” Mammon wracked his brain for something else he could do for MC that didn’t cost anything (don’t judge him, the poor bastard was flat broke!). “I could... teach you to drive!”

“Driving?”

“Yeah! Drivin’ is awesome! We can take my car!”

The bills for the damages done to the car and the Devildom were mailed to Lucifer the next day, and MC and Mammon got to keep each other company as they hung from the ceiling. Ah well! At least MC wasn’t upside down!

Mammon wasn’t that good of a flight teacher either, he also crashed into a tree (the same tree MC crashed into, actually) when he was cheering for MC. They were finally able to do a loopdy loop! He was proud and distracted! Okay?! Lucifer! Stop smirkin’ at him! It’s not that funny!

At least the vantage point from the tree was decent and the branches didn’t scratch him up too badly. Oh hey... that person walking by was wearing a very nice watch... he’d be right back-

That Uncle That is Always Absent From Family Gatherings and When He is Present He Leaves Early (Levi)

He missed everything. That is not an exaggeration. He was in the middle of an online raid battle and couldn’t look at his phone! No Lucifer he can’t pause an online game! That’s not how it works!

Okay, the human exchange student is half demon? WOAH! THAT’S JUST LIKE THAT ONE ANIME- W A I T. THE LITTLE NORMIE IS LUCIFER’S KID?!

Okie doke, he was fully convinced that MC just had to be an anime protagonist.

They binged every series that Levi compared them to. Sure MC might have missed a few assignments because of late night anime binges, but they were too good for this school crap anyway, right?

Nope. Lucifer put a ban on the two watching anime until both their grades improved. Surviving that hell brought the two together.

“Ugh!”

The sound of a pencil case being haphazardly thrown across the room made Levi peek out of his bed-tub. If his figurines got knocked over so HELP HIM-

“This is stupid!!I shouldn’t have to catch up with this!” MC crossed their arms and gave their Demonology textbook their best disapproving glare.

Lucifer Lite (tm) was having a hell of a time trying to claw through their missed work, and Levi sympathized, he really did, it’s just... he was playing Animal Crossing-

Levi paused the game to placate his anime-buddy when their wings popped out and he feared for his rare merch’s safety.

“H-hey, MC? Do you need help?” Levi’s offer was met with a bone chilling glare that lived rent free in his nightmares ever since. He had pulled a Mammon and forgotten he was talking to Lucifer’s child. Lucifer’s allergy to help must have passed down to MC.

“No! I don’t! It’s just... dumb!” MC hissed, she turned and looked over at the fish tank. “Right Henry 2.0?”

Henry 2.0 did not respond.

“MC, you need to finish your homework or we can’t watch anything together,” Levi sighed, he had finished his work over an hour earlier. He had mastered the art of all night anime binges and managing to do most of his work in the fifteen minutes between the time he woke up and the time school was supposed to begin. “We haven’t even binged all of volume 4 of TSL yet!”

“Mmm...” MC grumbled. “Fine...”

MC picked up their pencil case and began continued their work. Levi breathed a sigh of relief and went back to Animal Crossing.

The tiny normie did in fact finish their work, only after they caved and asked Levi for help. Swore him to secrecy, they did... very intimidating, they were.

Just saying, he most definitely sent that one Keanu Reeves meme with big Keanu and little Keanu but with Lucifer and MC to the wrong group chat. Poor bastard.

Flying lessons? No. Levi hadn’t flown since his time in the Celestial Realm, he had no advice to give other than: “Flap your wings!”

“THAT’S WHAT I’M DOING YOU-”

MC didn’t get to finish that thought, they lost their balance and fell right into RAD’s fountain. Ah well, Levi had a head start on running for his life that he squandered by laughing at MC. RIP.

The Uncle/brother/whatever the fuck that Starts a Fight With Your Dad at the Family Reunion. (Satan)

Oh... another Lucifer? Eugh. Gross.

Satan gave the kid a wide berth when they first met. Everything the kid said or did ticked him off. “Tsk. Look at MC. Making an omelette. So annoying.” “Oh wow, MC vacuumed? Roll out the red carpet, we need to celebrate their existence!” “Look at them. Breathing. Disgusting.”

MC’s pride wouldn’t ever let them admit it but... they knew Satan didn’t like them, and it hurt their feelings.

“Shhhh,” Satan whispered into his backpack.

“Meow.” The backpack replied.

“I said shhhhh.”

The backpack did not reply after that, which was a good thing considering the little princet of the HOL was nearby.

“Satan?” They asked. “Who are you talking to?”

Satan coldly brushed past them as he made his way to his room. “No one you need to concern yourself with.”

When the little calico kitten was safe in his room, Satan quickly realized a mistake in his foolproof ‘sneak a cat into the house’ plan. He didn’t have any toys for the kitten, and he didn’t want his books getting scratched...

It was alright, he’d just rush out to the a store that sold cat things and rush back! Five minute trip tops!

Well when Satan got back the cat was no longer in the room. Oh dear. He discreetly tore apart the house looking for the poor little thing until he ended up finding it in the library, happily chasing around a loose feather being held up by MC.

“Oh, hello Satan.” MC chirped as the kitten batted it’s adorable little paws at the feather.

“My... my door was closed. Did you let the cat out?”

MC shrugged. “I heard meowing.”

Satan ran a hand through his hair and grumbled. Stupid smaller Lucifer. Stupid original Lucifer. Everyone sucked.

“Let me guess, you’re going to run to Lucifer and tell him all about the meowing and the rule breaking.”

MC shook their head and glared at Satan. “Of course not. I’ve already gotten way too attached to this little guy anyway. We’re co-parenting this kitten like mature adults.”

With some coaxing, Satan did sit down and play with the kitten, maybe MC wasn’t... so terrible.

The two watch Unsolved Mysteries together, that’s their show. “This guy did it.” “Satan, we’re two minutes into the episode-” “Trust me.”

Thirty minutes later.

“He did it.” “See MC, what’d I tell you?”

Lucifer did find out about the cat, but with enough pleading, MC and Satan managed to warm up the cold spot in Lucifer’s chest where his heart should have been. The cat’s name is Detective Toe Beans (or just Bean).

Satan can’t fly, he has a tail, but he did read up on wing anatomy and how flight actually works in demons, his advice would be good in theory, but it’s full of so much technical jargon that MC can’t understand it.

At least MC didn’t crash into something, they barrel rolled through one of the HOL’s windows. Good thing it was the window to their room. The broken arm still hurt like hell.

The Best Dressed Bitch Who Brings The Booze to The Reunion. (Asmo)

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Lucifer’s kid was SO CUTE! A thousand pictures commemorating that adorable moment needed to be taken! Wait- Lucifer- GIVE BACK THE PHONE-

Asmo, surprise surprise, absolutely adores little MC! So cute! So small! He was just so excited to announce to all his Devilgram followers that Lucifer was finally a certified DILF.

That post disappeared five minutes after it was made but the damage had already been done.

Asmo made sure MC looked their best at all times, if they needed help talking to anyone? Asmo’s got their back!

Sure, maybe he’s a little pushy, but pushy’s a good thing sometimes, right?

“Asmodeus-”

“No, these shoes wouldn’t fit you...”

“Asmo-”

“No, not these ones either...”

“ASMODEUS.”

Asmo squeaked and jumped upwards, Geez Louise... little MC’s voice could sure be scary when they wanted it to be...

“I don’t need any fancy new shoes.” MC huffed, sitting up straighter in one of the chairs in Asmo’s room. “I thought this was supposed to be a sleepover.”

“Hmmm...” Asmo pouted. “Makeovers are an essential part of sleepovers... what’d you do with your human friends up in the human world that could possibly be better than a make-over?!”

MC began to list things off. “Ordered junk food, talked about people we hated, watched movies,”

“Greasy food is so bad for your skin...” Asmo cringed and shook his head violently. “But I’m totally down to watch a movie and bitch about people I hate!”

“Ah yes, human sleepovers, a tradition I never quite had the chance to enjoy.” Solomon said from Asmo’s bed. “Who are we bitching about?”

“Remind me what Solomon is doing here.” MC muttered as they sat down in front of Asmo’s TV.

“Because, I wanted to hang out with my two favourite humans.” Asmo cooed, reaching over and trying to pinch MC’s cheek, which they awkwardly dodged.

“Can we watch The Exorcist?” Solomon asked, propping his head up with his hands.

“Ew, no.” Asmo made a face at him. “That scene with the vomit? Hell NO.”

“Mm.” MC mumbled. Asmo turned to look at them.

“MC? Are you doing okay? You don’t look like you’re having any fun...”

“I’m fine.” MC grumbled.

Asmo pursed his lips, as much as it made his little narcissistic heart break, he nudged MC. “Why don’t you pick the movie, sweetie. I’m sure Solomon and I will like anything you pick!”

MC noticeably brightened. “Let’s watch Scream!”

The strangled noise that came from Asmo was... concerning, but to his credit, The Avatar of Lust held his tongue about his distaste for the movie, and the three slumber-party goers had quite the lovely time.

After the movie ended, MC went back to their room, sure it was a sleepover but their bed was right down the hall.

Good for Asmo and Solomon. Horny fuckers. We stan.

Asmo just claps and tries to cheer MC on when it comes to their flying lessons. (The idea that Asmo came up with to wear his cheerleader costume from the previous Halloween was immediately shot down by Lucifer)

“You’re doing wonderful, MC- WATCH OUT FOR THE POWER LINE!”

MC didn’t hit the power line, but Asmo’s scream of terror caused them to fall butt-first into a dumpster. Their injured tailbone served as a tragic memory of the incident.

Oh well, good thing Asmo had nice smelling soap to give that could mask dumpster-stink.

The Uncle that eats everything and tells you to eat your veggies while you angrily pick at your broccoli at the kid’s table. (Beel)

Lucifer... has a kid?! Beel choked on the cheetos he had snuck into the Assembly Hall when the kid’s wings popped out.

Oh wow, that’s nice :) maybe they can eat together. Belphie would probably like them.

Wait what is the gender neutral term for Niece or Nephew?

...Nibling? Uh... let’s not say that around Beel. We don’t need him to get hungrier and begin associating MC with nibbling on things.

The Underground Tomb incident probably went a little differently, but after all that nonsense, the two are closer than two peas in a pod!

Mmm... peas...

“Beel?” MC stepped into the Avatar of Gluttony’s room.

“Hi MC.” Beel was doing push-ups in the middle of the room, on the ground right beneath his head was a massive bowl of spaghetti that he bit into every time he completed a push-up. “Can you come stand on my back? I need the extra weight.”

“On your back?” MC padded closer. “Are you sure? It’s not going to hurt?”

“No, it’ll be okay.” Beel assured them. “Belphie and I did this all the time. Except Belphie is normally asleep.”

MC tentatively stepped onto Beel’s back. It was a balancing act to say the least, they eventually gave up on standing and ended up sitting cross legged between Beel’s shoulder blades.

“You did this with Belphegor?” MC asked.

“Yeah,” Beel sighed. “He was always too tired to exercise, but he’d let me bench press him sometimes...”

MC frowned and hugged their knees to their chest. Knowing full well that Beel’s twin wasn’t in the human world like Lucifer said was absolutely ripping them apart from the inside. Guilt felt just as rotten as their pride did when they were being belittled...

“Maybe you’ll see him again sometime soon.” MC whispered. “Maybe my father’ll come to his senses and let him come back down to the Devildom.”

Beel paused his push-ups for a brief moment, then nodded and went back to his eating exercising combo. “I hope so. He’ll like you, MC. I’m sure of it.”

MC nodded. “I... hope so.”

Beel’s a pretty decent flight teacher, but his wings are just so different from MC’s that it renders any tips he had next to useless.

“MC, maybe your wings aren’t flapping fast enough.”

“Beel, I appreciate the thought, but I’m not a hummingbird. Or a fly. I don’t need to flap my wings a million times a minute to stay afloat.”

Ah well, MC tried to take some of Beel’s advice, but their lower right wing cramped up and they ended up flying in circles until Beel was able to catch them. Ah well, better than the dumpster incident the previous week.

The Uncle That Passes Out in The Basement and You’re Not Allowed to Wake Him Up Even Though All Your Toys and Video Games Are Down There. He Also Picks a Fight With Your Dad’s New S/O Before He Passes Out. (Belphie)

Sitting in the attic was quite a drag, and this supposedly weak little human was quite the annoyance to try and call out to. It took a lot longer than expected, but when he heard little footsteps coming towards his prison, Belphegor nearly jumped with joy.

Oh... it... looked like Lucifer. Smelled like Lucifer. Stood like Lucifer. Quacked like Lucifer. Or... trilled..? Whatever sound a peacock made, this brat sounded an awful lot like Lucifer.

A... half-demon. Hmph. Belphie honestly thought Lucifer had actual standards. Not anymore, he guessed.

(Man I could fill a whole-ass fic with the Belphie betrayal thing, but for now let’s skip to post attic nonsense)

Okay so maybe MC wasn’t disgusting. They made a good nap buddy. It was cute when their wings came out when they were sleeping sometimes. Well... it was cute when they didn’t hit him in the face and make him wake up with his mouth full of feathers.

What Beel said had been true, Belphie made a good substitute when weights weren’t available, but Beel didn’t want MC to feel left out, so Belphie and MC ended up sitting on his back while he did push ups. MC once got bored and started playing Go Fish with Belphie on Beel’s back while he exercised.

Yes. MC is still a member of the Formerly-Anti-Lucifer League.

“Are you sure he’s not going to be too mad at us?” MC asked for the dozenth time that day. Detective Toe Beans was wrapped around their neck like a scarf (he had gotten so big!!!) while MC nervously sat in one of the Library chairs.

“Positive.” Belphie said with a toothy grin. “Besides, he’s like putty when it comes to you. Just give him your best puppy eyes and we’re not guilty on all charges.”

Putty..? Really..? Lucifer..? How strict was he before MC got there... they wondered.

“Sh! He’s coming!” Satan stuck his nose into a random book, it was the Oxford English Dictionary... and it was upside down.

Belphie pretended to pass out and MC decided that the best course of action was to stare deeply into their cat’s eyes. Yeah... that looked casual and not weird.

“Satan, MC, Belphie.” Lucifer nodded to the three of them as he walked towards the entrance to his study.

“Lucifer.”

“Afternoon, father.”

Belphie let out a cartoonishly loud fake snore that nearly caused both MC and Satan to break cover and start laughing.

Side note, Bean had adorable widdle eyes! That cute little face was just to die for-

“You three..!”

Belphie, Satan, and MC peeked their heads into Lucifer’s study, their handiwork was perfect. Everything was covered in red post it notes. Perfectly not harmful, but SO inconvenient!

“You’re all cleaning this up or so help me-”

“GO!” Belphie and Satan each grabbed one of MC’s arms (Satan also grabbed Bean) and sprinted out of the House of Lamentation. Maybe they’d move back there in twenty years... they hoped that Solomon and The Angels would let them crash at Purgatory Hall...

Belphie had used up his physical energy supply for the next four years. He passed out the moment they stepped into sanctuary. Time for a nap...

Flight practice? Ha. Belphie’s napping. Though, he was suspiciously awake and filming whenever MC did something stupid.

“Try not to suck so bad.”

“GO TO HELL BELPHIE!”

“I’m already there. Hell is every second I’m stuck here watching you fail.”

“YOU’RE GOING TO GET IT FOR THAT!”

Well... MC mastered the dive bomb that day. Lucifer bought them a cake.

Bonus! Your Dad’s New Husband! That Has Managed to Somehow Make Everyone Hate Him Despite the Fact That He’s A Cinnamon Roll. (Diavolo)

A mini Lucifer? A mini Lucifer!

Diavolo dotes on MC like he’d dote on his own kid. MC wants a crown? They’re getting a crown! A damn nice one too! MC wants a title? Here! MC is now... idk Ruler of the area between Majolish and Hell’s Kitchen.

Poor Uncle Mammon’s got some financial insecurity, he’s still the cool uncle... right?!

He is very much that ‘how do you do fellow kids?’ Meme.

He tries to do stereotypical ‘dad’ things but he’s not very good at them. Once he tried to host a barbecue...

Barbatos saved the day, but Mammon’s hair was still singed, Solomon’s cooking still gave Beel food poisoning (SOLOMON EATS TOXIC WASTE I SWEAR-), Luke still got hit in the face with a frisbee, and Simeon got an unhealthy dose of DAD NERVES and got so stressed everyone was almost blinded by the holy light he suddenly started blasting. We do not mention the water guns.

(Seriously whose bright idea was it to give Belphie and Satan water guns while they were in Lucifer’s presence?)

Praise Barbie. He’s too good for them.

“Um...” MC awkwardly held up the baseball, trying to look at it from all angles like it was a completely alien object. “Lord Diavolo... are you sure you want to play catch?”

Diavolo clapped his hands and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Yes! It’s a thing human fathers do with their children, correct? We must make up for lost time between you and Lucifer, right?”

Lucifer massaged his temples and nodded. “If you two would like to play catch...” Lucifer grimaced. “I will too.”

“Okay! MC, throw the ball to Lucifer!” Diavolo instructed.

Lucifer half heartedly held up his baseball glove as MC tossed him the ball. He caught it, and looked over at Diavolo, who was applauding like he just witnessed the greatest feat in sports history.

“Okay! Throw it to me!” Diavolo waved his glove in the air, Lucifer rolled his eyes and smiled. He threw the ball at Diavolo with... a lot of force. Enough force to probably dent steel... Diavolo caught it like it was nothing.

MC suddenly feared for their safety.

“Okay MC, catch!”

Diavolo threw the ball with enough force to break the god damn sound barrier. Well, maybe that was an exaggeration, but the ball sailed way over MC’s head and crashed right through a window.

“Oh my...” Diavolo put a hand on his hip and surveyed the damage to the window. “This isn’t so bad, I believe in human world TV shows this happens quite often. Look! The glass broke in a perfect circle!”

“Yay... property damage...” MC murmured.

Lucifer sighed and pulled out his DDD. “I’ll phone someone to replace the win-”

“Lucifer no! Now according to human world customs we must,” Diavolo took a deep breath, rushed forward, grabbed both Lucifer and MC’s hands and started sprinting away from the Demon Lord’s Castle. “RUN FOR IT!”

“Di- Diavolo!” Lucifer gasped.

“Who are we running from?! That’s your castle!” MC squeaked.

“I don’t know! Just run! That’s what the human TV show says to do!”

Weirdly enough, Diavolo was the best flight instructor. MC’s ability to fly increased tenfold after Diavolo found out that MC was learning to fly.

“You’re doing amazing MC! That was a perfect turn!”

“Thanks Lord Diavolo, I’m surprised I haven’t crashed into anyone or fallen yet!”

“Well, I highly doubt you’ll be crashing into anyone anymore, your flying is practically perfect now!”

Mammon proceeded to fly past them holding what looked like Lucifer’s wallet.

“M-mammon?!”

“Oh... I wonder what he’s doing. Look, MC! It’s Lucifer! Hello Lucifer dea-”

Lucifer ended up colliding with the two of them and sending them all crashing to the floor.

That was the last time MC fell during flying practice.

(We currently have a Go Fund Me set up for Mammon to get the funds necessary to flee the Devildom after that incident. Please donate to save- oh shit hi Lucifer-)

[kiridarling]

[a/n: is this a week late? yes. happy belated-valentine's day angels <3]

—ᴛʜɪs ɪs ᴀɴ 𝟷𝟾+ ʙʟᴏɢ. ᴍɪɴᴏʀs ���ɴɪ

𝐊𝐚𝐭𝐬𝐮𝐤𝐢 𝐁𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐠𝐨𝐮; 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐇𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐥

→ Definitely went to work that day

→ Not a huge romantic but wake up to find a hot breakfast with a note left on the counter.

Happy Valentines Day, dumbass. Love you.

— k.b

→ When he returns from work, Katsuki buys you roses and shoves them into your chest with an eye roll. You thank him and he responds with a grunt before insisting you put on something nice because he’s taking you out on a dinner date whether you like it or not.

→ Katsuki takes you to the fanciest restaurant—so fancy you feel a little bad that he has to pay, even despite his Pro Hero status. But you’re his, and spoiling you might as well be his love language.

→ Halfway through dinner, Katsuki starts getting a little frisky. Sliding the rough leather of his oxfords up the inside of your thigh, winking and biting his lip. You tell him to stop but you only half-mean it, and the knowing grin on his face lets you know he knows.

"Careful, baby. You don't want the waitress to know how much of a dirty slut you are, do you?”

→ He’s condescending as fuck but you’re totally here for it, and the second he pays for the meal you two are speeding down the highway to a love hotel (per Katsuki’s plan, apparently). You barely make it to the bedroom before you’re all over each other, and if it weren’t for that family of four in the elevator, you definitely wouldn’t have.

→ He tells you to get on the bed and strip, and who are you to deny him of such a luxury? He pulls a plastic black bag out of a different bag—it’s clearly full. With what, you may ask?

→ Sex toys!

→ Katsuki’s endgame is simple—make you cum until you can’t anymore. Not that he’s told you explicitly, but he’s got a Hitachi pressed to your sex and two fingers slamming into you just the way you like it. With your wrists comfortably tied above your head, it doesn’t take him long to bring you to your climax, cheeks burning and thighs shaking.

→ Peering at you under the sweaty mess of ash-blond hair, the fire in Katsuki's eyes only adds fuel to the burning of your gut as the vibrator continues whirr. The realization settles in with a shiver. Oh. Oh fuck, he's not stopping.

“Again.”

→ So, you cum again. And again, and again, and by the time you’re on the fifth it gets a bit hard to feel your toes and you’re so sensitive your thighs burn. All you want is his cock, but for some reason, it’s fucking impossible for him to give it to you.

→ Upon voicing your concerns, Katsuki’s devilish smile only grows wider.

“You want this cock that bad, slut? Yeah? Fine then, fuckin’ choke on it.”

→ It’s basically cannon that one of Katsuki’s favorite things to do is watch you struggle to take all of him, but in this position, all you can do is lay back with bound hands as he fucks your face. It’s sloppy and your eyes and throat burn, but it's totally worth it to hear Katsuki fall apart in your mouth.

“S-So good—fuck—such a good whore, taking all of me, aren’t you?”

→ Katsuki pulls out before he cums in your throat in favor of flipping your limp body into downward dog and stuffing you full of cock in one swift move, the bastard.

→ Katsuki’s never been one to take things slow in bed—to him, it’s all hard and fast and now. You’re scrambling for purchase in the sheets as he pounds into that sweet spot he knows you love, and you feel your fully spent sex twitching back to life anyway. Fuck, fuck. Are you going to cum again?

→ Katsuki seems to catch onto this as well, sweaty chest dropping against your back and the cool of his dog tag tickling your neck as his hand rubs between your legs, muttering dirty nothings in your ear.

“You gonna cum for me, baby? Yeah? Gonna make a fuckin’ mess all over yourself like the slut you are? Fuckin’ do it. Fuckin—fuck—”

→ You two cum at the same time, toes curling and ribcage shuddering, and then—

→ Darkness.

→ You wake up in a few hours, properly clean in fresh sheets. Turns out baby boy fucked you so hard you passed out, but it's okay because he’s found reruns of your favorite show on and is fully prepared with water and snacks.

→ (And he’ll never tell you, but he fully panicked and called Eijirou. Obviously, he knew you were alive, but…what if you passed out because of a problem? A concussion? Internal bleeding, maybe?)

→ (Eijirou ensures him that though this should NOT happen every time, it can happen from exhaustion. To say Katsuki relaxes after that is an understatement.)

(Stay safe angels <3)

And speaking of Eijirou...

𝐄𝐢𝐣𝐢𝐫𝐨𝐮 𝐊𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐦𝐚; 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐋𝐚𝐤𝐞

→ Definitely did not go to work that day.

→ Today, Eijirou plans to treat you like the princess you are. Cooks you breakfast in bed (after almost burning down the kitchen trying to make bacon but shhh we don’t talk about that) books you a full day spa and has Mina take you shopping for a new outfit for your "fancy date" that night.

→ The location? A surprise.

→ It’s dark by the time you and Mina pull up, but the moment you hop out the car she speeds away. Um. She could’ve at least said bye.

"[Y/N?]"

→ Looks like Eijirou brought you to a lake. You wonder who helped him bundle the fairy lights in the trees and set up the picnic because knowing your man and his coordination, it would’ve taken a forever for him to set this up.

→ But all those thoughts shatter the second you see that he’s on his knees, clutching a velvet box with a gorgeous diamond ring sat in the center. Not too flashy, but not too dull.

“U-Uh.”

→ Eijirou swallows then blinks, the only sign that he’s the least bit nervous for this.

“See…I swear I had planned something to say, but you look…holy shit, um—stunning, you look stunning.”

→ His compliment goes over your head though. Of course it does, he’s holding an engagement ring. He chuckles, averting his eyes to the ground.

“Listen, um, you can say no...B-But uh, I love you a lot—obviously—and I’ve been thinking about this a lot, kind of, because you’re like…the love of my life, ya know? I mean, I know everyone says that and everything but like, I really mean it? But if I’m going too fast o-or you just don’t wanna get married or something, I totally get it because obviously this is outta the blue and everything b-but um…yeah.”

→ You let him stutter through the whole thing because, well. It’s cute.

→ ...And then you tackle Eijirou to the ground with renewed passion and slam your lips onto his. His “babe! The ring!” is muffled but you snort anyway, blindly groping for it through the grass. The moment you find it, you shove it into his palm and stick your hand in his face, and with a (very sexy) chuckle, the redhead slides it onto your ring finger.

“I’ll take that as a yes then?”

→ No shit, Sherlock.

→ Either way, the picnic in the dark is abandoned in favor of yanking Eijirou's pants off and giving him the best head of his life. Because goddammit, you love this man so much and he needs to feel it.

→ Afterward, he insists on returning the favor. A wild Gentle Dom Kiri appears and as he eats you out, he mutters a deadly combination of the sweetest and dirtiest things you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck, you feel so good. So tight and wet. And it’s all for me, isn’t it, baby?"

“You’re gonna cum, angel? Do it. Cum all over Daddy’s face.”

→ Once you semi-recover from your orgasm, he flips you on your hands and knees and slowly pushes inside of you (though not without putting on a condom because safety first, angels). You tell him to speed up, but he denies your request. This time around, Eijirou's going to take the time to love you.

→ As he slowly fucks you under the stars, he dips his chin into your neck as his bigger hands encompass your own. As he starts to play with the ring on your finger, you watch something wet hit the picnic blanket, followed by a sniffle.

“Gosh, fuck—I love you so much. A-And I’m really happy you said yes. I…”

→ You cum first and Eijirou isn’t far behind, shuddering against your spine. Your fiancé unceremoniously rolls onto the picnic blanket next to you, his temple kissing the crest of your skull as the two of you use the comfortable silence to cool down, half-naked under the milky way.

→ In your comfortable silence, you lift your left hand to the stars, fingers splayed to reveal the twinkling diamond solidifying the bond between the two of you. Eijirou hums, hooking his chin on your shoulder.

"Pretty, isn't it?"

𝐃𝐞𝐧𝐤𝐢 𝐊𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐫𝐢; 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐥𝐞𝐬 𝐀𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐃𝐚𝐲

→ Both of you are painfully single and most importantly, strangers. Strangers who think alike and had the glorious forethought to drown your sorrows at a nightclub with a lot of alcohol.

→ Denki, as he does, accidentally knocks over his liquor-filled cup, completely drenching your bottoms. He apologizes and insists on helping you clean up though getting awfully close to your crotch, but both of you are too tipsy to notice.

→ After the liquor spill, you swap embarrassing love stories and lament over the “hardships of being single.” (Denki’s words.)

→ A few hours pass. You’re tired and ready to go home and Denki requests to walk you home to make sure you get back safely. Not that you live far, maybe ten minutes, but by the time you reach your door, you feel like you've known the electric blond your whole life. After saying goodbye and almost closing the door, Denki blurts out a half-drunken confession...or something like that:

“I—uh, y-you are—uhm, no…this is—“

→ You give him a look, a half-smile at best, and it seems to churn the gears in his brain again.

“This was uhm, really fun and uh, I think you’re really cool.”

→ So naturally, when you invite him inside, he squeals.

→ After a few more drinks and a few more spillages (Denki’s never been a deft drunk), you two finally get over your inner thoughts and start kissing on the couch. It’s hot and messy, and the alcohol in your veins makes it oh, so hot.

→ Denki doesn’t expect you to offer head but when you do he nearly cries, scrambling to pull his pants off while you make space for yourself between his thighs.  Due to the fact that there’s alcohol pumping in Denki’s veins and he hasn't been touched by someone else in at least a year, he’s extra-sensitive. And vocal. 

"F-Fuck gorgeous, you're so good at this...o-oh shit, do that again—yeah, yeah just like that."

→ His hips quiver, and he bucks into your mouth on accident. It earns him a glare and a light slap on the thigh, and you make a mental note to unpack the broken moan that interrupts his apology later. 

→ It doesn't take Denki a long time to cum—five minutes max. He plans to give you a warning but his orgasm runs up on the electric blond so quickly he doesn't even get a warning. When Denki orgasms in your mouth with a choked moan, it's only natural that you pull away in alarm, ribbons of semi-translucent cum flying just about everywhere.

→ To say you're pissed is an understatement (because your poor, poor carpet), but Denki feels terrible and is already reaching for the roll of paper towels you left on the coffee table from your cleaning spree this morning, apologies flying out of his mouth like an auctioneer.

→ Obviously, he's going to make it up to you. Not only for making an absolute mess in your living room (seriously, Denki doesn't know if he's ever come that much in his life) but for the bomb head, and he wants to make you feel just as good as you made him feel.

→ Both of you stumble to your room, the mood miraculously rekindled, and you're not sure what to make of Denki's desperation as he claws at your bottoms, pupils blown to the size of dinner plates. And though it's cheesy, you can't help but shiver when he finally gets eyes on your sex, wetting his bottom lip and the grip around your thigh tightening as he catcalls the apex between your thighs before diving in.

"Hello pretty~"

→ Like any pervert with a vivid imagination, Denki's got a mental warehouse of sex tips and tricks and burns to watch you squirm from his touch. He wants you red-faced and breathless and isn’t shy about it, actively paying attention to your reactions when he curls his fingers or uses his tongue just right.

"Oh, you taste so good sweet thing. So pretty and wet...did I do all this, gorgeous?”

→ Also, electro-stimulation? Yes please.

→ Denki's tentative about it at first because he’s not sure how you’ll react, but once you give him that pretty little moan you've been holding back all evening, you two are going nowhere but hell.

→ His dick hurts from being hard for so long and the second you cum, he’s practically begging to fuck you.

“Please? Please gorgeous? Shit, you felt so good in my mouth I just wanna—I need to—please?”

→ Like you needed any convincing in the first place.

→ You ride him per his request—and will definitely make you repeat things back to him, just because he likes how embarrassed and blushy you get. If you refuse? He’ll be an absolute tease about it. (But only for a bit, because we all know his patience isn’t that great.)

"Yeah? You like this cock? Tell me. Tell me how good my cock makes you feel, gorgeous."

→ There's no way Denki lasts very long (again)—definitely with you in his lap. When he cums, it’s cute and breathless, and his nose scrunches into his eyes. But if he came twice, you should too right?

→ The next morning, Denki's gone. But in his place, there’s a note with his number and an explanation:

had to go to work! lol i have the fattest hangover kill me now ty. either way, you should text me. i wasn't kidding when i said i thought you were cool lol.

(xxx)-xxx-xxxx

— kaminari

[a/n: gah XD my brain melted from writing that um-

also don’t worry about the family of four at the love hotel...they were...um...forced to stay there due to an emergency...lol :) see you soon, angels <3]

[narumi-gens]

Okay but would Naoya have a secret breeding kink when blue ball queen was dirty talking him about “filling her up” or would he just be infuriated 👁 👄 👁

note: even a broken computer isn't enough to keep me from digging in the trash 😣 warnings: smut, impreg kink, misogyny (naoya, duh) words: 1.7k (because I’m the trash queen) related drabbles

As Naoya watches you underneath him, practically folded in half from the way he's pushing your knees to your chest with his hands on the backs of your thighs, he finds himself angrier than usual.

But for once, he can't blame it on you despite how much he wants to. He can't blame it on your disrespectful mouth that never shuts up or your inability to recognize him as your better.

No, he's angry at himself. Because instead of focusing on the way your tits bounce with every brutal thrust or how your fingers are furiously rubbing at your swollen clit or the string of moans escaping you, all he can pay attention to is your stomach.

Or more precisely, all he can pay attention to is the thought of what it would look like if he didn't pull out like he usually does.

The last thing he wants is for you to end up pregnant with his kid. He doesn't need any bastard kids running around, especially not ones that would tie him to you for the rest of his life.

But the thought pumping you so full of his cum that your pussy is overflowing is too tempting for him to ignore. He imagines your stomach swelling, your tits getting big, your body changing like nature intended because of him. 

In spite of himself, he finds his hips pounding into your ass even harder as his grip on your thighs tightens.

He wants to be the one to show you that all you're good for besides fucking is getting pregnant and having kids. He wants to force you to accept that you are truly the weaker sex by design. He’ll make you see that any notions you have about "self-worth" and "agency" are nothing more than misconceptions.

He’ll turn you from a foul-mouthed, ill-tempered, disrespectful jujutsu sorcerer into a wife and mother who bows her head when she talks to him and knows her place. 

The thought of breaking you in is so tantalizing that it almost has him coming on the spot.

"Gonna show ya," he pants, his eyes squeezing shut as his mind paints the image of you so fucking big with his kid on the backs of his eyelids. "Ya ain't good fer anything else."

"Shut up," you're quick to reply between moans, but it only urges him on. You won't be so mouthy when you're taking care of his kids, when you're cleaning up after them, when you're breastfeeding them.

He lets out a low groan as he pictures how big your tits will get when they’re full of milk for his kid. It's enough to push him over the edge and before he knows what he's doing, his burying himself as deep as he can inside of you and coming with an almost animalistic growl.

His hips give a few jerks as he fills you with his cum, his hold now so tight on your thighs that finger-shaped bruises are a guarantee. His shoulders rise and fall rapidly as tries to catch his breath.

When he lets his cock slip from you, he can't tear his eyes away from the way his cum slowly leaks out of your messy cunt and trails down the crack of your ass. He continues to hold you in place for a few moments longer before collapsing onto his back beside you in bed with a self-satisfied smirk on his lips.

He runs a hand through his sweaty hair, already reflecting back on how that may have been the hardest he's ever come before. He pointedly ignores the fact that imagining you pregnant with his kid was the cause.

But while he's busy luxuriating in the aftermath of his orgasm, he's completely ignorant to the storm brewing beside him.

"You fucking came inside me!" you shout, sitting up in bed and hitting him hard in the face with the pillow that you had been using.

He recovers quickly and grabs it from you so that he can place it behind his own head with a smirk.

"Yeah? And?" he asks, his tone bored. He watches you from the corner of his eye as you angrily get out of bed and pick a discarded shirt up from the floor that you slip over your head.

"You're so fucking lucky I'm on the pill," you hiss as you storm off to the bathroom, loudly slamming the door shut behind you.

"Good! That means I don't gotta keep pulling outta ya anymore!" he yells after you with a sadistic grin. He wonders what you're more upset over -- that he came inside of you or that you didn't get to come.

You're only gone for a few minutes. He hears the toilet flushing and the water running before the door opens and you come back into the bedroom.

"You're fucking useless," you mutter and he closes his eyes as he stretches with a loud yawn. "I should've just gone with my vibrator. It doesn't have a mouth and doesn't make a mess. And it also makes me come every time."

"That ain't my job," he scoffs, a truly amused smirk playing at his lips at the idea that he's here for your pleasure.

He cracks an eye open when he hears you sliding opening the door to the balcony just off your bedroom. He catches just a glimpse of you holding something in your arms before you disappear onto the balcony for a few moments. When you return, your arms are empty.

He watches you as you pick up his boxer briefs before slinging them at his face. His reflexes are quick enough that catching them before they hit him is an easy feat.

"Get the fuck out," you say without sparing him a second glance on your way out of the bedroom and he chuckles to himself. Frustrating you is almost as gratifying as sex. 

His amusement persists even as he sits up and slides on his boxer briefs. But it doesn’t last much longer because he’s quick to see that your bedroom floor is now empty, his clothes nowhere in sight.

He glances at the sliding glass door that’s still open and his eyes widen when he suddenly remembers that you had carried something onto the balcony, only to come back without it. 

No. 

You couldn’t possibly have.

No.

In the blink of an eye and with the speed he’s known for, he’s on your balcony and tightly gripping onto the railing as he searches the mostly-empty street below. When he sees his shirt, kimono, and hakama scattered on the sidewalk, pure rage explodes in his gut.

“Fucking BITCH!” he yells with no care for your neighbors or the late hour. 

He’s moving so quickly that in the back of his mind he wonders if it’s the fastest he’s ever been. One moment he’s on your balcony and a millisecond later, he has you pinned on your back on the couch where you were sitting. 

He straddles your hips as he wraps a hand around your throat, his grip growing tighter when he sees how your eyes are dancing with mirth.

“You already up for another round?” you ask, a slight wheeze to your voice from how hard he’s squeezing your throat. His fury is so all-consuming that he doesn’t even notice the way his cock twitches.

“You fucking bitch,” he seethes. “I’m going to fucking kill you.”

You raise an eyebrow at how his anger actually has his Kansai accent easing, like his ire is great enough that it’s actually able to override any pronunciations and verbal ticks.  

“Well, before you do that, you might wanna go get your clothes,” you point out, sounding almost bored. “The bars are getting ready to close and all it takes is one person who can’t hold their alcohol before they’re throwing it all up.”

He wants to argue with you, call you a bitch some more, and punish you for thinking you have the right to talk to him like this and treat him this way. But he  also knows you’re right. He needs to recover his clothing or else all he’ll have to wear on his way home is a tight pair of boxer briefs. 

“It shouldn’t be too hard to get them back for the world's fastest sorcerer," you mock with a rasp and he lets his hand close even tighter for a few moments, wanting you to think your life is truly in danger, before he releases you. 

He’s gone before you even know what’s happening and he’s already halfway through getting dressed by the time you make it out onto the balcony to watch him struggle. He ignores the heat of your gaze on him, as well as the stares of the few passersby who stumble upon the bizarre scene playing out in the middle of the street.

“Oi! Zen’in-sama!” you shout down to him as ties his hakama. He refuses to acknowledge that he’s heard you, although how could not have with how loud your voice carries. It’s enough to catch the attention of everyone down below. The mocking tone is gone with your next words, your voice as cold as ice. “I know my cunt’s so sweet that it’s hard to resist, but the next time you come inside of me without permission, I’ll cut your balls off so that you can’t make that mistake again.”

He looks up at your balcony, but you’re already gone. He growls to himself, seething that despite everything, you’ve still somehow managed to not only end up with the last word, but also to have humiliated him.

Now that he’s no longer buried ball deep inside of you, he can think with a clearer head and even through his anger, there’s an irritating note of relief that you’re on the pill.

It’s already bad enough that he can’t seem to give up your pussy, but that’s at least a habit he hopes to one day break. A kid would keep you in his life permanently. 

A chill runs down his spine at the idea, disgust curling in his stomach. He tries to ignore the hint of arousal that lurks just underneath it.