#I was sick while writing this so I think it played out perfectly lol-

[chaosduckies]

Could we get a part 2 of Birds of a Feather?

Oh yeah of course! Can never have too much parental g/t! Decided to have a sick tiny because why not? (Also fluff) so I hope you like it! And I’m so sorry that it took so long to answer- I re-wrote this too many times to count but figured this was the best one!

Word Count: 3.6k

Cw: None!

Birds of a Feather (2)

It had only been a week since Gabriel found out about Lizzie and I. I would say that it’s been interesting. Lizzie goes out more often, and it seems like the house isn’t as quiet anymore. It did kind of help with the anxiety a little bit. I never really liked the silence. Just meant that I couldn’t tell where humans would be.

Now? When Gabriel is home Lizzie always tries to bother him with questions and if she could be held or picked up. She was still just a kid but I didn’t trust Gabriel. That’s why anytime he gave us food I still checked it for poison even though some part of me doubted that he would poison us. What were the chances of that ever happening? I also will never let him hold me. Never. Not even touch me. I always just ran away, hid, or grabbed my needle as fast as I could. That didn’t mean he stopped trying or asking, though he did say he would respect my personal space. It’s just… how was I supposed to trust a human after hiding from them my entire life? It didn’t seem easy to just blindly trust one after all of this time. Sure, he gives us food and all of that, but that doesn’t mean I’d just put my life in his hands! Literally! 

Today was a snowy day. It was cold in the house, meaning that the walls were even colder. Normally I would have just borrowed some cloth, but since Gabriel knew about us I couldn’t do that. I was too afraid he’d just be mad. There was no telling what he would do to me! I shuddered just at the thought. As long as it’s not my sister…

Lizzie couldn’t wait for Gabriel to wake up so she could go with him. She always tried to convince me to get out. To really do anything now that we were free to walk around without the fear of being noticed, but again, she didn’t know how terrifying it was to now be out in the open. How could she know? She was too young to ever go out borrowing so she didn’t know how scary it was. Though I should probably teach her sometime soon. Not today though. I felt sick all over. My head felt hot, I was coughing, my body felt weak, I could barely keep my eyes open. I haven’t been this sick in a few years. 

I still forced myself to go out and borrow a few things. Like at least try to get a few more “blankets” for us. Lizzie said she would ask but I told her no. I can take care of us on my own. I don’t need help from a human. Even if it hurts just to move. 

Lizzie hadn’t caught on that I was sick, or at least I think she hasn’t, which was good because then she would’ve definitely told Gabriel. The last thing I needed was for him to find out. Who knows what he might do? He might take his chance to finally kill me, or even just get rid of the both of us now that I could barely move. Not like he could do that already though. 

I cautiously watched as Lizzie ran over to the living room, where Gabriel was. Lizzie never seemed to be scared for some reason. What goes through her mind when she’s “playing” with him? Gabriel too! I was surprised that he hasn’t hurt her. Not even once. The entire situation was strange to me, but as I watched from afar, I kind of found myself wanting the same attention that Lizzie had. Gabriel actually seemed happy that she came to keep him company instead of annoyed. Every story I heard with humans always ended up with us dying, but this? It was entirely new. Even if Gabriel seemed like a murderer and was so intimidating, he hadn’t done anything to hurt either of us. It was so much more different here, and I had no idea why Gabriel was different, not that I was complaining. It actually made my borrowing trips easier. He left cabinets slightly open for me, left food out in case whatever he gave us wasn’t enough, or if we didn’t like it. Everything was so much easier, but I didn’t want to entirely rely on him for help. I can take care of both of us. I have been for a while now so what’s a few more years? 

I gripped the hook in my hand, weakly limping over to the side of the counter. I was craving crackers for some odd reason, and there was no way in heck that I was going to ask Gabriel to get me it. No matter how sick and weak I felt. I threw my hook up onto the side of the counter, my muscles already feeling strained. I know you’re supposed to rest when you’re sick, but I couldn't. I have my sister to care for and right now my main focus is getting something to keep her warm and maybe those crackers that I was craving. She was already complaining last night that it was cold and I couldn’t do anything about it at the time. 

With a few tugs to make sure that it was secure, I started climbing, my muscles straining under the pressure and my head spinning a little bit. When I reached the top, I took a few seconds to catch my breath. I rested a hand over my burning forehead. Of course I had a fever. A bad one by the looks of it. My eyes didn’t even want to stay open anymore. I didn’t know how I would get back down, but I’ll figure it out when I get there. 

I sniffled, rubbing my eyes before walking around the counter in search of an unused piece of cloth or just something until I could find an actual blanket. I would kill for a nap right now, but maybe whenever I get back. That seemed like the safer decision. This sickness will pass eventually. I just felt absolutely horrible right now. 

There wasn’t much to be offered on the counter today. Except for the extremely tempting crackers that were sitting in a basket like usual. Since Gabriel was home, I had to be extra quiet, but I could already tell that the plastic would give me a hard time. Just another borrowing trip… it’s not like you haven’t borrowed from him before. Of course I did get caught and the events that happened afterwards left me in complete shock, but that wouldn’t happen again. Hopefully. Maybe. 

I trudged over to the basket, struggling to pull one that was hanging off the side. I looked over to see that Gabriel was still busy entertaining my sister. I should have plenty of time to get this, right? Obviously he would know that it was me who stole it but I just had to keep thinking that he wouldn’t do anything to me. I mean, he probably does care about Lizzie more than me. Since she actually spends time with him… But I just can’t see how. He’s not our parent, and I couldn’t just accept the fact that he’s actually helping us. There has to be some trick right? He’s just building up to gain our trust and make our lives more miserable. Well I wasn’t going to let that happen. 

As I started to take out some pieces, feeling selfish for not being able to find something for Lizzie but I was hungry. I didn’t bother to eat last night since I had already felt bad before this morning, but I wasn’t expecting to feel so weak and sick when I woke up. I just sighed, coughing a little bit before sitting down and still struggling to take out a piece of the peanut butter crackers I usually don’t like to eat. 

Suddenly I heard someone getting up, and out of my instincts, I hurried to take out a piece and hid behind the basket, clutching the cracker to my chest and having trouble breathing. My head already felt dizzy and my arms weak but I could get out of this just fine, right? I could barely keep myself on my feet for any longer but it was only a few more minutes until I could go home. I could just use my hook to.. My hook. Where was it? I glanced back at where I came from and there it was, still hanging on the side of the counter. Panic surged through me as I stepped to go and grab it, but it was already too late. 

A shadow loomed overhead, observing my hook and turning directly towards the crackers I was stealing. He was going to get so mad at me. I was going to die. Where was Lizzie then if he was coming over here? I hadn’t heard for a while. Did he already… No. He wouldn’t, right? There was no way. I winced at the thoughts, struggling to stay as quiet as possible. 

“...Andrew? Is that you little guy?” I didn’t even have enough energy to be angry at the new nickname. But I was more mortified by the fact that he already knew it was me. Of course he did. I was the only one who could’ve been climbing up here if he was with Lizzie, not that she even knew how to climb yet. 

I sucked in a shaky breath, almost tripping over my own two feet when I came out of my hiding spot. I had no idea what he would do if I didn’t listen. I was trembling and tried to hide it but of course I did a terrible job at that. I looked down at my hands, quickly hiding the piece of food that I stole behind my back. I closed my eyes shut and hung my head in hopes that he wouldn’t hurt me. That all he would do is take my food away. I’d just have to try and find something else to eat then, but the fear crept slowly throughout my body. 

“Are you okay? You look sick, kid.”  He asked concernedly to my surprise, not even acknowledging the fact that I was very obviously borrowing things from him. I didn’t feel okay actually. Everything in my body just felt off. I could think straight but not at the same time? I somehow felt cold and hot all over and had coughing fits every now and then. I don’t think that’s okay but there was no way I’d be admitting that. 

I nodded my head, getting a little light-headed from the simple movement. He quirked an eyebrow up like he didn’t believe me and sighed, leaning against the counter. I took a few shaky steps back, eyes wide and ready for whatever punishment I was about to receive, “So you’re up here taking my food again?” A slight smile on his face but I just jumped and held out the piece I was hiding, “I-I’ll put it b-back. I’m sorry.” I apologized. 

I had expected him to say yes to putting it back, but to my shock he just shook his head, “No, you can have the entire thing if you want.” He started, moving the package closer to me. I flinched a little, cursing myself for showing that I was scared. Of course he already knew that though with how I reacted to him noticing that I was taking some food. Nothing would happen though, right? He’d just leave me alone now and go back to my sister, right? Just grab whatever he needed from here, and leave me the heck alone. I was practically pleading for that outcome at this point. 

Gabriel studied me for a bit longer, a suspicious look on his face, “Are you lying about not being sick kid?” He asked again. Could I even lie to a person like him? If I said yes, who knows what would happen? It was hard to tell if it would be a good or bad outcome. I couldn’t tell. I sucked in a sharp breath, nearly coughing from the air hitting the back of my throat. If I said no he’d just keep asking, but all I’d have to do was escape by then, right? I would feel better in a few days anyways. Maybe. 

 I shook my head, trying to calm my racing heart as he lifted himself off of his arms. I nervously started messing with my hands, trying not to show him just how terrifying he was looming over me. Everything just seemed so much more terrifying when you’re sick for some reason. I felt smaller, more insecure, vulnerable under his gaze. 

“You’re a terrible liar.” He sighed, hand slowly reaching for me. I didn’t even register that he was going to grab me before his fingers were nearly halfway wrapped around my skinny frame. I scrambled backwards, tripping over my own two hands several times while trying to grab my needle, but of course I forgot to grab it before I went borrowing. Great going me! Before I could get up and run, I was picked up in a fist. I kicked and pushed at the fingers, struggling so much and already feeling tired after just a tiny bit. I hate being sick. I was too weak to get myself out of this situation, I forgot my only weapon, and the worst part about this is that I quite literally sank into the warmth his hand provided. I mean, this was just because I was sick, right? I wouldn’t have done this if I were in my right mind. No way. I would’ve fought back and climbed back down to the safety of my cold… lonely home. 

I pushed and kicked as much as I could, trying my hardest not to stay comfy even though my eyes felt so heavy and my body was warmed up within seconds, “Let me go!” Tears started forming in my eyes, trying not to think about what could happen to me. Before I could kick away his fingers one last time, his thumb gently, yet firmly, was placed over my face. That’s all it took. Just one simple movement. I could be dead right now. I started crying softly, barely hearing the words that came out of his mouth, “Calm down little guy. You’re gonna make yourself even more sick.” And I obeyed. He practically already threatened me, and it’s not like I could speak either. I hated the new nickname, I hated being this helpless, and I hated just how much I wanted him to keep me in his hands so I could be warm. No! That’s so stupid. Why would I want that? It’s just the sickness talking… 

Soon enough we were moving, his thumb moved away from my face as I stared up at him with wide eyes, red and puffy from the tears that were still falling. I tried to wipe them away as much as I could until I felt myself being moved. I was no longer in a fist and I wasn’t moving anymore. I staggered backwards as much as I could before hitting his fingers and flinching, covering my head with my arms, “I-I’m s-s-sorry.” My voice barely came out as a whisper, and I doubt Gabriel even heard it. 

“Kid, I'm just trying to help you feel better. Here.” He handed me one of the crackers I was going to eat. I looked up, feeling a little too weak after all of that adrenaline to even move. It felt like my head was throbbing and my muscles screamed to stop moving. And honestly, after all of this, I wasn’t even hungry anymore despite the fact that I haven’t eaten for some time. I shook my head, getting light headed once again. Everything in my body begged me to just lay down and close my eyes, but there was no way that I would be doing that. I’m not trusting him even for one bit. Lizzie might- Wait. Lizzie? 

My eyes searched frantically for her, the extra adrenaline making it possible to move my limbs again as I looked over his hand, spotting her lying underneath a piece of cloth and asleep. She… fell asleep? Around him? Did she really trust him that much? Well, I guess it made sense. She’s spent more time with him than I have, but I still think that all of this is just a trick… Oh who am I kidding? He’s genuinely a nice person. I’m so sick and tired of always being on edge and barely being able to stay alive. I’m tired of struggling just to get basic living needs. Gabriel was offering all of that and so much more and I can’t just accept the fact that he’s just trying to help, no matter how afraid I was, I think I would just have to trust him in this. That none of this was a trick and that he’s genuinely trying to help us stay alive. 

“You have to eat something. You’re not going to get better otherwise.” He gestured to the food again. I shook my head again, wincing and holding my head from the throbbing pain. I nearly fell over hadn’t his fingers been there to support me. His eyes softened, slowly bringing me closer to him, but at this point I could care less. I felt so much worse than before even climbing up onto the countertop. To know all of this would happen in just one week. Getting found, then getting sick and being forced to be taken care of by a human. I didn’t even have enough energy to care anymore. 

“Okay, I’ll be right back, stay there.” He ordered before tilting his hand slowly onto the couch. I let out a yelp of surprise before hitting the cushiony surface right next to Lizzie. Stay here? Where was he going? Was he going to leave me alone? Just abandon me? I couldn’t stop the tears that formed. What did I care if he left me? I would be just fine on my own… Right? I could barely even move my limbs anymore from thinking I could just go borrow with barely any problems. Turns out all I ended up facing were problems. I didn’t want to be left alone either.

I turned back to my sister, wiping away the loose tears as I heard Gabriel coming back. For some odd reason I was actually happy that he came back, though I couldn’t help but struggle to move myself backwards. He just stared at me a little shocked, “I had really expected you to try and escape.” He sighed, slowly sitting back down and moving something in his hands. It looked to be some sort of cloth, though what could he need it for? 

“Well here, if you’re not going to eat then you could get some rest. I’m sure you're exhausted if you can barely even hold yourself up.” He dumped the cloth in front of me. For… me? I cautiously reached out, pulling the soft piece towards me. So warm… I snuggled close, but didn’t lay down. I could stay up… I didn’t need sleep. I needed to go home and rest. Even if it would  be so much colder there than staying out here. 

Gabriel sighed, his hands covering his face like he was frustrated with me, “If you needed help why not come to me?” I scrambled backwards, pulling the cloth over my entire body. Was he mad at me for it? Was he going to hurt me because I didn’t ask for help? My chest tightened at the thoughts, closing my eyes shut as I waited to be lifted off from the ground in one sweep, but when it didn’t come I sheepishly peeked my head out. 

“I didn’t mean to sound so angry, I promise I’m not,” He started, sighing, “Listen, you’re what? Thirteen, fourteen? You’re just a kid. You should be having fun and playing with your little sister. Not struggling to survive and get food everyday.” His eyes softened, turning towards me. I bit the bottom of my lip. But how else was I supposed to live? My sister and I would’ve died countless times had I not been the one struggling. Heck, there were even times when I thought I wouldn’t make it. Getting caught in a spider web, nearly getting trapped in a rat trap, tangled on my rope. I had to grow up if I was going to live. It’s not like I wanted to. 

“I-I had to if I was going to live. I d-didn’t want to die.” I looked down, hoping that he would get it. I wonder what life would’ve been like if our parents hadn’t died. They would’ve taught me so many more things before I was so abruptly forced to go borrowing. I could’ve still been a kid, maybe just barely moving out, but at least I’d know what I was doing! I’m terrible at borrowing! 

Gabriel nodded his head, “That’s understandable,” He turned his head and smiled down at me, “Now just get some rest. I’ll take care of you and your sister, don’t worry about it.” I nodded my head, wrapping the blanket even more around me as I coughed, groaning from how scratchy my throat felt. I forced myself to lay down, wincing from the simple movements. 

I really didn’t have any other choice. I was too tired to stay awake, too weak to move, too sick to do anything but hope that I was trusting the right person. He would take care of us. I wouldn’t have to fight for survival anymore. I could actually be happy again. That was all I could really ask for.  ——————

I had a lot of fun writing this and I’m hoping to get back to writing my main stories soon! Since I will be having a break soon and can finally edit all the things I’ve written-

I have no idea if I’ll be doing a part 3, but if you want one please let me know! Thank you for the ask anon!

Taglist: @da3dm

If you would like to be added please let me know!

[obsesssedblerd]

PLS PLS PLS DO A FIC WHERE GOJO AND Y/N ADOPT THE FIRST YEARS BASED ON THAT SMAU PLSSSSSSS

I GOT YOU ANON!!!! oh, i've been dying to write this one!

Filling the Empty Spaces 

Synopsis: You always thought that the house that you and your new husband, Satoru, lived in was way too big. One night after a rough mission, the both of you decide to keep an eye on Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara as they recover. You grow to love their company, and realize that they fit so perfectly not just in your house, but also your life.

Wc: 5.1k

Contains: teeth-rotting fluff, soft husband! gojo, yuuji no longer being sukuna’s vessel, gojo and reader are married, reader has a technique but it’s not explained, reader used to be a teacher but quit, gojo and reader adopting the first years, only a dash of angst, pregnancy (but only at the end), some suggestiveness but no smut, everyone is happy bc i said so. (gege don’t ever let me catch you)

a/n: this has to be the sweetest thing i’ve ever written in my life lol. also this is barely proof-read, so sorry for any mistakes!

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

Even with all of yours and Satoru’s belongings, the house that was left for him was still insanely huge. Your footsteps echo in the hallway as you mentally count the empty spaces. Three empty bedrooms, three empty bathrooms, another large room that could be considered a second living room. You knew it was big; Satoru said it was prior to you two getting married and moving in, but you wondered if you’d ever get used to having that much extra space. 

“Oh, wifeyyyy,” Satoru calls out to you in his usual, sing-songy tone, his voice echoing throughout the hallway. “Where are you?” 

“Near the kitchen!” You call back to him. 

Your tall and handsome husband appears not even a minute later. The corner of his mouth pulls upwards into a smirk as he sees you sitting on the counter of the kitchen island. “Well, hello there, Mrs. Gojo.” 

Your heart stutters in your chest, and you cast your eyes downward. “It’s gonna take a while before I get used to that.” You smile and lift up your left hand, allowing the gorgeous diamond on your fourth finger to glimmer in the sunlight that filled the space. “I still can’t believe it.” 

Satoru steps in front of you and grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth and placing a small kiss on your palm. “Believe it, pretty girl,” he says, his cerulean eyes meeting yours. He takes your other hand, then tugs upward so your arms are around his neck, his own hands settling on your hips. Your fingers brush against his undercut, then play with his soft white hair. “After all.” His voice dips to a sensual purr as his face inches closer. “I did tell you that I was going to make you my wife, didn’t I?” 

He kisses you, and you sigh blissfully into his mouth as your eyes shut. Despite being practically glued to him during your two-week honeymoon on a beautiful island, you still craved him. His hand barely slides underneath your shirt before his phone starts ringing. He groans, and you giggle as he pulls away and grabs his phone out of his pocket. ���Work?” You ask. 

“Work. However, it’s Yuuji, not Yaga.” Satoru answers and begins talking while you hop off of the counter and decide to make both of you some tea. It wouldn’t be long before the sun begins to set, so you start thinking about what to make for dinner. 

You look over to see Satoru’s brows furrowed. “Ah, I see,” he said to Yuuji on the other line. “Well, good to hear that you made it back to the school safely. Are you three alright? Megumi went to see Shoko for that injury?” 

That worries you. From the sound of it, the first years went on another dangerous mission this afternoon. You knew that Kento Nanami was watching them, but with three students and dangerous curses, anything could happen. “I think I’ve come across a curse like that before,” Satoru says. “You get sick only after it hits you with that goo. Since you and Nobara only got a bit of it on you, you won’t die. However, it still concerns me. One second, okay?” 

He tilts the phone away from him and turns to look at you. “Megumi got injured. Shoko healed him but needs to rest for at least a few days. Yuuji and Nobara might also become sick.”

Your heart sinks. Yuuji, Megumi and Nobara were just kids. You remember battling curses as a teen alongside Satoru and Suguru Geto before he became a curse-user, but becoming an adult and watching the next generation of students throw themselves into battle gave you an entirely different feeling. Around two months ago, Yuuji officially separated from Ryomen Sukuna and was freed from the burden of being his vessel; but you were getting a feeling that he still wanted to prove himself as a sorcerer by going on tough missions, all so he could stay around. 

“They’re gonna need someone to keep an eye on them for a while. Everyone else at the school is busy,” you say, and Satoru nods. You pause on making the tea, then make a decision. “Alright, have Ichiji bring them here. We have plenty of space, as you can see, and I can help them out while you’re at work over the next few days.” 

After all, the first years didn’t have anyone else. 

Satoru kisses your forehead, then tells Yuuji the plan. Meanwhile, you double-check the three empty rooms and bathrooms. Each of them had freshly made beds, clean bathrooms and some decorative furniture—thanks to the housekeeping that maintained this house before you and Satoru moved in. 

While you were thinking hard about some extra items that you didn’t have, Satoru comes up behind you and places his hands on your shoulders, which immediately slump under his touch. You sigh as he rubs the tension from them. “Baby, whatever we don’t have, and they need it, we can just buy it. Yuuji’s telling them to pack enough clothes for a while. Just relax. It’ll be okay.” 

Right. It’ll be fine. 

— — — — —

When Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara arrive, your face splits into a wide smile. You haven’t seen them since you and Satoru got married. A rush of movement, and the pink-haired teenager is hugging you tight, excitedly rambling about how much he missed you. The brown-haired girl is next, and Nobara literally squeals as she hugs you. Finally, the dark-haired teen, who is much calmer than his fellow first years. However, he doesn’t shy away when you hug him gently—being careful not to touch his side that was injured in battle—and he mumbles that it’s good to see you. 

“Wow, this house is huge!” Nobara exclaims as she wanders around the kitchen, then the living room. 

As always, Yuuji matches her high energy. “No kidding. There’s like a million rooms in this place!” 

Satoru chuckles. He was dressed in his usual uniform and blindfold, leaning against the wall of the living room with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I’m glad you like it. This place was left for me. I knew that I wanted to move in here only if I got married. For a while, I thought I’d never touch it. Then I met that lovely sorcerer over there.” 

Your cheeks heat, and the students ‘aw’ over his words. The oven dings, and you spring up. “Great, dinner’s done. Give me some time to set up.” 

Satoru and Nobara sit with Megumi on the couch in the living room to watch TV, and Yuuji follows you to help set the table in the dining room. “You don’t want to go sit down?” You ask, reaching over to ruffle the boy’s hair. “You’ve had a long day.” 

“It’s okay, I wanna help. Besides, it’s been so long since I’ve seen you. I missed talking with you.” 

Your heart swells. You pass him some plates and some silverware, and he stacks it so he can take it to the table. “How are you holding up?” You ask as you pull the food you prepared out of the oven. 

“Doing good. It definitely feels nice not having his voice in my head anymore,” he says from the dining room, neatly arranging the dishes. Five plates, five glasses, five sets of silverware. “Or worrying about him taking my body at any second. Just knowing that no one has to deal with him ever again brings me so much peace.” 

“I’m so proud of you.” You take off of your oven mitts and walk towards him. “So is Satoru and the rest of your teachers, and so is your grandfather. He’d be happy knowing that you’re still helping people by fighting curses.” 

That makes Yuuji pause. His smile is still there, but it wobbles at the corners. He turns away from you to hide his face, but the tremble in his shoulders is impossible for him to conceal. “Yuuji,” you call softly, and he sniffles, still turned around. Your heart aches, and you pull him to you. He immediately wraps his arms around you as his head settles onto your chest, his body shaking as he sobs quietly. You were thankful that the TV was on in the living room so he could have this moment privately. 

“It’s okay to cry,” you whisper as you stroke his hair. “Everything’s alright. You’re brave, but it’s okay to break down, too.” 

“Only reason I‘m alive is because you and Gojo-sensei fought against my execution.” He uses a sleeve of his jacket to wipe his tears. “I’ll be honest. There were so many times where I thought I wasn’t going to make it, or if it would be impossible to be separated from Sukuna without hurting anyone else. But you two had so much hope for me, and it pushed me to keep fighting.” 

Tears fill your eyes, and you blink them back. “I’ll always fight for you, you hear me?” Yuuji nods, and you let him hug you for as long as you like. 

Unbeknownst to you, Satoru watches you both from the living room with a gentle smile. 

— — — — — 

Dinner is filled with fun stories, jokes, and plenty of laughter. Once everyone has finished eating, Satoru and Yuuji do the dishes while you and Nobara help Megumi into one of the spare rooms after his shower. 

“The bed’s super comfortable,” Megumi says, not fighting a single bit when you cover him with the blanket. “Thank you.” 

“You better get some rest, Fushiguro,” Nobara says seriously as she crosses her arms. “Shoko said four days.” 

“She’s right,” Yuuji comments as he walks into the room, sitting next to her on the edge of Megumi’s bed. “Not a single hour before.” 

Megumi frowns. “You both are being dramatic.”

“Look, if Kugisaki and I have to lock you in here so you can rest, then that’s exactly what we’ll do.” 

“Yup!” Nobara agrees with her usual grin, popping the p for extra dramatics. “And if that doesn’t work, we’ll just call the Gojos. Do you really want to get lectured by them?” 

That makes you laugh. “Alright, you two, I think he gets it.” You gently fix Megumi’s hair—noting that his eyes were beginning to droop with exhaustion—then stand up. “Besides, you both might also be on bedrest. You did get hit by that curse earlier, and Satoru said that the effects won’t kick in until tomorrow. So it’s important that you two get plenty of sleep as well.” 

Yuuji and Nobara say goodnight to Megumi, then the three of you leave his room. You decide to take your shower, making a mental list of groceries to buy for tomorrow now that the first years were staying with you for a few days. When you exit the bathroom in some sleepwear, you hear quiet giggling and snickering coming from the kitchen. You scoff, put on your house slippers and go investigate. 

First, you see your husband’s white hair in the dimly-lit kitchen. You flip on the light switch, and burst out laughing at the sight. Satoru, Yuuji, and Nobara were stuffing their faces with cupcakes, all dressed in their pajamas. They were Satoru’s favorite, and he requested them from you every chance he got. “Now, what is going on here?” You ask. 

“His idea,” Nobara attempts to mumble with her mouth full as she points at Satoru. Yuuji immediately nods in agreement and also points at his teacher. Satoru only shrugs with his usual smile, using a thumb to wipe away the blue icing on his lips before licking it clean. Then he offers you one. “Here, have one. They’re delicious.” 

“No, silly, it’s late.” You put the cupcake back in its container, then hand the two teens a napkin. “And you two should be getting some rest. Megumi’s already fast asleep.” 

Surprisingly, they don’t put up a fight. You happily do skincare with Nobara in the bathroom of the bedroom that she was using, and you both make plans to go shopping for some face masks once they’re all feeling better. When she finishes moisturizing her face, she gives you another hug. “Missed you,” she mumbles into your shoulder. 

“Aw, sweetheart,” you sigh as you return the hug. “I’ve missed you as well. Was it a long few weeks for you?” 

“Well, kinda,” she says as she pulls away, then goes to sit on her bed. “I know you and Gojo-sensei were on your honeymoon, and we expected that, but we’re all just getting used to the fact that you’ve officially quit working at the school. We support it, but it sucks knowing that we’re not going to see you as much.” 

The thinly-veiled sadness in her eyes makes your gut twist. Of course they were going to miss you. You saw them and worked with them every single day. “Nobara, I’m always going to be here for you. Just because I no longer work there, that doesn’t mean I still can’t visit or even help out with you three.” 

Nobara rests her head on your shoulder, and you rub a comforting hand up and down her back. “Promise?” she asks quietly. 

“I promise.” 

When she goes to bed, you leave her room and shut the door behind you. Finally, you walk to Yuuji’s room, which is still lit up. You get to the doorway, and you hide a laugh when you see that he fell asleep almost immediately after laying down. More than likely got more comfortable than he thought when he tested the bed. You adjust the pillow so it’s under his head, pull the blanket over his body, mess with his hair once more, then switch the lamp off so he can rest. You leave, then shut the door. 

“They all fell asleep so quickly,” you say to Satoru once you walk into your spacious, shared bedroom. You climb into bed next to him, sighing when you feel the soft, silk sheets against your skin. Like every night, he tugs you into his large, muscular arms, and you rest your head against his chest. 

This was your favorite spot to be; in the arms of the strongest, most powerful man in the whole world. Satoru was protective in every sense of the word. Nothing would ever happen to you as long as you were with him. 

“I’m certain that those rooms are much more comfortable than the dorms at the school,” he says. You feel his hand rubbing soothing patterns against your arm. “So, what’s your plan for tomorrow?” 

“Keeping an eye on them. I’m almost one hundred percent positive that they’re all going to be sleeping most of the day.” You then press a kiss against Satoru’s jaw. “And when you get home from work tomorrow, I expect you to rest, too. I know you’re dealing with the higher-ups.” 

“Eh, who cares about them?” Satoru scoffs. “I tune them out.” 

“Yeah, you really gotta stop doing that.” 

— — — — — — — — 

Your morning starts early. You’re barely awake when you feel Satoru kiss your cheek, whispering in your ear that he loves you and that he’ll see you after work. You sleep for about another half-hour, then decide to get up. After brushing your teeth, you walk down the hallway leading to the kitchen. The sun is already shining through the large windows of the sunroom, and you pause in your tracks when you see Megumi, silently reading one of the many books you kept in there. 

He’s sitting on a bean bag chair towards the corner of the room, and you notice two more books on the ground next to him. When he sees you staring, he sits up and shuts the book. “Sorry.” The apology comes out in a faint, yet frantic rush. “I-I was just curious, and I’ve never seen a huge collection like this, and—” 

“Megumi.” Your soft voice stops him, and his shoulders slump in relief when he sees you smile and sit in the bean bag chair adjacent to his. “It’s alright. Books are meant to be read. I’m just happy you found this room. I thought you might like it.” 

“It’s so peaceful here,” he comments as he looks around slowly, taking in the beauty of your favorite room in the house. One wall is lined with books, neatly organized on floor-to-ceiling, wall-to-wall shelves. There is also a tall ladder that slides smoothly across the shelves, which aids you whenever a book is placed far too high. The rest of the room is filled with bean bag chairs, plants, and a few small, decorative statues. 

You tilt your head to get a closer look at the book in his hand. “What are you reading?” 

“A sci-fi,” he says, “I’ve kind of been interested in them since watching Human Earthworm with Itadori.” 

“Ah.” You stand up, drag the ladder towards the middle of the shelves, then climb up to retrieve a duology. “I think you’ll like this series, then. In addition to the books you also have with you.” 

Megumi rubs the back of his head bashfully. “I hope I’ll have enough time to get through these,” he says, then yawns. “And energy. Still tired even though I slept for a while.” 

“Your body needs rest, and it’s okay. You can keep the books until you’re finished. Take your time.” 

Megumi smiles at that. It’s small, but it’s there, and you love it. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” 

— — — — — — 

Like you expected, Yuuji and Nobara weren’t feeling good that morning. They had some body aches, chills and a light cough. Luckily, they had you to look after them. You prepared soup for the three of them, and you made sure they were comfortable and hydrated. When Satoru returned from work, he gave all three of them medicine to help with any pain. The both of you kept an eye on them as they slept. 

Over the next few days, they were all feeling better, however, both you and Satoru kept making excuses to keep them for another day. What if their cold comes back? Or, Maybe Shoko miscalculated and Megumi needed a few more days to fully recover?

Even when the first years were well enough to start going on missions again, Satoru had made it a habit to bring them back with him at the end of the day. You’ve also made new habits since the first years entered your home. Every morning, you would make breakfast for everyone to enjoy at the table. You loved seeing Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara’s smiles, or hearing them groan whenever Satoru made a joke that was just a little too cheesy. And their hugs. Oh, you loved their hugs. You hugged them before they went off to jujutsu high with Satoru each morning, and you hugged them each night before bed. 

After about six weeks, you were so used to them being over every night; so much to the point that you and Satoru stared at Yuuji in confusion when he asked if you were tired of them. Both of you had never said, “No,” so fast in your lives.

Not only were you used to it, you loved it. You loved sitting quietly in the sunroom with Megumi, enjoying each other’s company while reading your respective books. You loved listening to Yuuji’s wild stories about his epic adventures as a sorcerer, even better when Satoru joined in and helped him with the dramatics. You loved doing face masks and painting your nails with Nobara. You were pretty sure you spent up to a few hours each week in the bathroom with her, laughing joyfully and listening to music as you played around with cosmetics. 

You loved movie nights with the five of you sitting together on the couch, passing popcorn and other treats amongst each other. You loved it when each of the teens came to you about what was bothering them. By the second month, all of them had trusted you enough to cry around you. You loved comforting them—being a sorcerer is hard and gruesome, and anyone would need support. You loved holding them, wiping their tears, and feeling them settle when you reassure them that you and Satoru would keep them safe. You loved seeing them play silly games in the spacious backyard. Sometimes, you and Satoru joined them so you could have fun with them. 

Before any one of you knew it, five months of this had passed. 

At that point, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara’s dorms back at the school were practically deserted, and the once-empty guest bedrooms of yours and Satoru’s home were filled with their belongings. Clothes, shoes, books, posters, souvenirs, trinkets, and photographs. You and your husband never did hold back when it came to spoiling them, whether with materials or experiences. You had noticed that the three of them were glowing. Louder laughs, smiles that reach their eyes, sleeping better, feeling more comfortable, and overall, looking much happier. 

“They feel loved,” Nanami had told you once you explained it to him on a day you went to visit the school. “Everyone glows when they feel loved.” 

— — — — — 

“We should adopt them.” 

At Satoru’s words, you look up from your book to face him. He’s laying down in your shared bed, facing the ceiling with an arm tucked behind his head. It is nearly midnight, and you are the only ones awake in the house. “Really?” You ask, unable to hide your smile. You shut your book and put it on the bedside table. This was a conversation that you’ve been hoping to have for a while. Finally, you’re talking about adopting those three and officially having them as your kids.

“Yeah.” He sighs as he sits up. “I like having them here, and I can tell that you do, too. I can also tell that they like being here. They’re much more relaxed. Yuuji and Nobara are sleeping so much better, and plus, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Megumi smile so much.” 

“I love having them here,” you say. You reach for his hand, and he clasps it with yours, intertwining your fingers together. “I don’t want them to ever go back to that school. They’re so happy here. I want to keep them happy. Besides, if we adopt them, I’m pretty sure that would keep the higher-ups from deciding to toss them into reckless missions simply because they have no legal guardian. They’d have to go through us first, right?” 

“They’d have to go through us first regardless.” Satoru then chuckles. “Have you been wanting to talk about adopting them, pretty girl? You seem like you’ve put so much thought into this.”

“You have no idea.” 

“I wish you said something sooner. Honestly, we could’ve done this a few months ago.” 

You kiss his cheek, then rest your chin on his shoulder. “Well,” you start, “I remember you saying that you were hesitant about starting a family towards the beginning of our relationship a few years back. I didn’t know if your mind had changed or not. Adopting three teenagers falls into that category.” 

“Ah, so that’s why you never talked about it recently,” he says with a thoughtful hum. “Before we got together, I didn’t know how I felt about having a family, simply because I got to a point where I could never see myself having such a thing. But, then I fell in love with you, and in love with life with you. I’d love to start a family with you.” He kisses your hand, then continues, “And I’m not just talking about adopting Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara.”

You gasp lightly, and your heart begins to race in excitement. You lift your head, then turn your body so you’re directly in front of him. “Satoru.” Your voice comes out in a barely-audible whisper. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?” 

Gentleness glimmers in his blue eyes, and he uses a hand to stroke your cheek. You instinctively lean into the touch, and his thumb wipes away the tear that barely slides from the corner of your eye. “If you want to,” he starts, “and if you’re ready, I’d love to have a baby with you.” 

You think you’re dreaming. You feel like your body’s about to explode. It takes everything not to squeal loudly and wake up the teens. You smile and nod, wiping away the tears of joy before they blur your vision any further. “I’d love that, too.” 

Satoru leans in and kisses you. It’s slow, loving and so very gentle. He slightly trembles, and you open your eyes to see that he was also tearing up from the happiness. “I love you.” His voice is low, yet shaky. “I love you so fucking much.” He kisses you again, then moves from your mouth, slowly down your neck. “I’ll take care of you. All of you.” He gently pushes you back against the sheets, and you sigh as his hands trail down your body. You wrap your arms around his neck to pull him closer. 

“All five of you.” 

— — — — — 

“So, you wanted to talk with us?” Yuuji asks. 

You, Satoru, and the teens all sit on the luxurious couch in the living room the next morning. Since there’s no missions for them, they get to relax at home. All three of them were still cozy in their pajamas, and they finished eating their breakfast not too long ago. 

“Yes,” you say as you sit up. “So, it’s been five months of you all staying here.” 

At once, Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara stiffen, then share grim looks with each other. It confuses you, and before you can ask about it, Nobara sits up. She gulps hard, and you know from her staying with you for so long that it’s because she’s trying to choke back tears so they wouldn’t form in her eyes. “It’s okay,” she says, “we understand. We knew that this would be a temporary thing.” 

“Huh?” Satoru asks, also confused. You can tell that his brows are furrowed underneath his blindfold. “What’re you—” 

“I mean, five months is a lot. We get it. You didn’t have to keep us for this long, but you did. Thank you,” Megumi says. 

Yuuji nods with a smile, but you know it’s a fake one. It makes your heart ache. “Just know that we’re extremely grateful for everything.” 

“Every last bit of it. Thank you so much,” Nobara chimes in. 

“Okay, all of you, stop.” Your voice is firm, and it silences them all at once. Megumi is facing the ground to hide his face, Yuuji’s fake smile fades as he casts his eyes downward, and Nobara looks over at the wall, nervously chewing at her lip. “This isn’t what you think it is. Satoru and I don’t want you three to leave.” 

Now it’s their turn to look confused. However, they’re all finally looking directly at you, and that makes you feel a little bit better. “We were going to ask if you’d like to make it permanent, because we’d love to adopt you three.” 

They gasp, and their eyes widen in shock. It’s silent for a few beats, then Nobara faintly asks, “...What?” 

Satoru chuckles, then claps his hands together once. “Aw, c’mon, Nobara! Surely, you know what ‘permanent’ means!” You roll your eyes. Adding humor to make a situation less tense was such a Satoru Gojo thing to do.

The teens still look in shock. “So…” Megumi starts, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’d be our parents?” 

“Yes,” you reply with a smile. 

Nobara sniffles, and you look over at her to see that she’s no longer holding back her tears. “And- And we’d be your kids?” Her voice is also quiet. Yuuji, on the other hand, is much louder with his question. “And these two would be my siblings?!” 

You giggle, then nod again. “Yes, one hundred percent yes. I know it’s sudden, and if you all need time to think about it—” 

“Yes!!” Nobara practically screams, then runs over to hug you and Satoru as she begins sobbing. A split second later, Yuuji is there too, also hugging you tight. Megumi joins last, and the five of you remain there, embracing each other. Embracing your husband, your two new sons and your new daughter. Your eyes shut as you laugh with joy, unaware of your own tears. 

— — — — — — 

Six months later 

“So yeah, that’s the story of how Mom and Dad adopted us,” Yuuji concludes, then places his hand against your swollen tummy. “Pretty cool, right?” 

As if responding, ‘Yes,’ the baby within you gently kicks. “Ha!” Yuuji exclaims excitedly, then grins over at Megumi and Nobara. “I told you that they like my voice!” 

Nobara rolls her eyes. “Oh, please, Yuuji, they like all of our voices, but they like mine the most.” Now she puts her hand against your stomach, leaning close so the baby could hear her better. “Right, sweets? Isn’t your big sister your favorite sibling?” 

Two light kicks. Yuuji gasps in surprise while Nobara cackles victoriously. Megumi scoffs at their foolishness, and you laugh. 

“I won’t lie though,” Megumi says. “I’m curious about what technique they’re going to have.” 

“Yeah, will it be Mom’s or Dad’s?” Yuuji asks. 

You shrug. “We don’t know yet.” 

The front door opens, and you hear Satoru call out, “I’m home!” as he walks towards the living room where all of you were sitting. Like every day, he gives Yuuji, Megumi, and Nobara hugs as he asks about their days, then comes to you. He kisses your forehead, then your tummy. “Hey, little one,” he quietly coos. “Hope you didn’t give mama too much trouble today.” 

“No vomiting today, so, yeah, they did pretty good.” You gently stroke his cheek. “Missed you today. How was work?” 

“Yeah, how was work?” Nobara asks excitedly. “Any special grade curses?” 

“Eh, nothing like that today,” Satoru says as he sits in between you and Megumi, ruffling the boy’s hair. “However, the second years are starting to plan a surprise party for Okkotsu’s birthday. I passed the word to the rest of the staff, and now I’m letting you all know about it.” 

Megumi nods as he settles back into the comfortable couch cushion. “Inumaki did text me about that earlier.”

“This is going to be so fun!” Yuuji exclaims. 

“Yeah, as long as we don’t leave you in charge of handling the cake like we did for Nanamin’s birthday last year, since you like to drop them,” Nobara scoffs. 

“Oh, come on! That was one time!” 

Megumi tsks, and shakes his head. “One time is too many.” 

As they playfully squabble, you and Satoru watch them with soft smiles. His blindfold was lowered, so you got to see the pure love and happiness in his eyes. He finally has the family that he once dreamed of as a child. You lean on his shoulder, and he kisses your cheek. 

Finally, your house was full, and so was your heart.

[anoant-haikyuu-dump]

The hyperfixation demons are screeching at me to write a comprehensive list of all the reasons I like Fukutora, so today I present to you "Ant ignores their responsibilites and spends several paragraphs explaining why Fukutora is peak despite them having roughly 10 seconds of shared screen time"

1. Contrasting Personalities In general their personalities fit together really well— Fukunaga barely speaks while Tora exclusively shouts at max volume and can't stfu to save his life, Tora's overly-intense and takes everything way too seriously while Fukunaga's cracking jokes in the middle of important games, they're even literal opposites on the court as the two wing spikers. Their differences compliment each other perfectly and because of that I think they'd grow a lot being together, Fukunaga would learn to open up and Tora would mellow out. Another good contrast is how Tora's all about looking cool and standing out while Fukunaga tends to blend into the background, which leads into my next point...

2. MY ROMAN EMPIRE (aka chapter 309) I know it's only two pages out of a 33 chapter match but i dont care, this scene makes me feral. I read the manga after watching Dumpster Battle, so imagine my suprise when my two favorite losers had a moment THAT GOT CUT FROM THE FUCJIGN MOVIE (I'm still salty, it should've been a full season).

Anyways these pages rooted their way into my brain because they show that even though Fukunaga goes unnoticed by most people (both in-universe and by readers) Tora realizes how great he is, and not only respects his play style but views him as a rival on the same level as himself. One thing I appreciate about Tora is that despite him being the stereotypical "strong manly athlete" type he doesn't think his methods are the best or only way of doing things; Fukunaga scoring points without "big fanfare" is just as cool as the shit he and Tanaka pull off. The phrasing "that I hafta surpass" could even imply that Tora sees Fukunaga as more than an equal, as someone who's ahead of him since he doesn't need to be flashy or loud to do amazing stuff.

Look at his smile on page two, bro's just excited to have someone who motivates him to keep pushing himself. And as we've learned from Kagehina: what's gayer than a rivalry?? All in all I think it's sweet that Tora notcies his efforts and admires him when few others do. Side Note, I've seen a translation of these that call them "Nekoma's Wings" and I think that's a sick nickname.

3. Bi Tora and Internalized Homophobia I love a good internalized homophobia arc, and characters like Tora that center so much around girls and manliness are some of the most fun to explore them with imo. You could say he's one of the least likely characters in hq to be queer since he's THE woman-lover next to Tanaka and Noya (and Yachi) but that's what makes it interesting—his gay awakening would hit like a tsunami and send him into life-ruining bi panic for months, especially since he's already such a mess when it comes to romance. He gives me the vibes of someone who has no problem with other people being gay but struggles when it comes to himself since it clashes with his conception of what it means to "be a man" or whatever. My point is he'd have the most intense no homo phase to grace this earth and I think that's both super funny and compelling for his character.

Also as a bi person myself it's kind of frustrating how bisexuality is treated online sometimes. It's annoying when a person's queerness is negated the moment they show attraction for the opposite gender, so headcanoning a character like Tora as a bi while still being openly into women makes me happy.

4. The Stage Play They're so silly in the stageplay. Why is he dragging him around by the feet? Why are they screaming at Kenma? Why is he constantly bopping him on the head in the background? WHY IS HE SERVING FACE IN THE PROMO PICTURES? So silly.

(Ignore how blurry these are lol) 5. Ant's Little Sister Bias This is a me thing, I like ships where one party has an annoying little sister who bothers them, sue me. Its cute. Akane and Fukunaga could have the most adorable friendship if you believe.

6. They Match Each Others Energy My first post about them was me rambling about this so just read that, TDLR they're both energetic menaces who match each other's freak.

7. Kenma's Forced Third-Wheel Purgatory Putting Kenma in a situation where Kuroo's graduated and his closest remaining friends are dating and constantly forcing him to third-wheel is just about the evilest thing you could do to the guy. He may be one of my favorites but this is well-deserved punishment for his crimes.

8. Baffled x Baffling Another ship dynamic I like a lot is when one person is unabashedly weird and the other thinks they're a total freak... but likes them anyways. They don't know why they like them. They can't explain it to anyone. Whenever the person does more weird shit they're like "why tf do I like you." But even so they're whipped as hell. Anyways Tora barely understands a single thing Fukunaga does and I think that makes for a funny crush to have.

9. Fukunaga's "Current Concern" Don't have much to add here, it's just proof to me that they hang out idc. Like why are you concerned about what he wants?? Kinda gay dude. Big fan of Fukunaga whispering to him and Tora answering at full volume so other people hear a one-sided conversation.

10. These Fics Before I knew this ship was even a thing I stumbled on these fics while browsing the Fukunaga tag, that's what got the gears turning:

• My favorite one, third-year shenanigans • Peak, need to be signed in tho • College AU • This one is mostly gen Fukunaga but the few moments they have are perfect (also really fun Nekoma interactions overall)

11. Other Miscellaneous Thoughts • Both of them being public figures/lowkey famous in timeskip is cute, like imagine them being each others' biggest fan before they make it big.

• Chef x guy who eats a lot is peak fiction. In this case they both eat a lot. Their grocery bill is a horror story.

• I know it's because characters are usually grouped by year and Kenma ditches them to sit with Kuroo but they're always together in the stands, pretty gay if you ask me

• I hc Fukunaga as genderfluid so Tora still gets his chance to be a wife guy. Him and Tanaka ranting to each other while Kiyoko and Fukunaga drink tea in peaceful silence.

• I think Fukunaga's the type to enjoy people watching and Tora's always doing something dumb. Observing him like a little bug under a microscope

• They're both so silly looking, cartoony ahh designs. I just think they'd make a funny couple visually, they're so square and stick to me if that makes any sense lmaoo

If you got through this whole post you're a real one, thanks for reading to my brain dump. I think about them every day and need more people to understand the vision

[thewinchestah]

"Chega de Saudade" - Alastor X Reader fic

Pairing: Alastor x Fem!Reader.

Summary: When Alastor breaks into the V's building seven years later he expects to find a lot of things, lot of obnoxious, enraging, tacky things. He did not expect to find you. The Radio Demon does not take betrayl lightly and you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to his worst enemy. Better yet, you have to live with the consequences of selling your soul to Vox and Alastor finding out. The soul you sold because Alastor left you for 7 years. Safe to say, it's a mess. A pretty, angsty, dark and delicious mess.

Warnings: Alastor is in Hell for a reason,general hellish violence,general hellish creepiness,eventual smut, i carioca coded valentino bc i can and bc he is very carioca sorry everyone,blackmail, Soul Selling, author is really invested in politics and decided to micromanage hazbin hotel canon, Corruption, Extortion, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, but nothing too explicit,mature themes in general, canon divergence, Not Canon Compliant, Eventual Smut, Alastor gets insane in this one you've been warned, fear play, Possessive Behavior, posessive sex, big bad radio demon is gonna fuck up the guy who stole his girl and will make it everyone's problem, Reader-Insert,no y/n,no beta we die like men here, i feel bad for tagging vox in this fic cause i think it's a disservice i really hate him and i make it clear so vox stans be warned, it's hell i hope y'all remeber ethics are fluid, posessive!Alastor, unhinged!Alastor, Isane!Alastor

Taglist: honestly only my queen @jyoongim i have no credibility to tag anyone anymore after being away for so long. If you wanna be tagged on future updates just let me know!

A/N:HI HEY BUNNY ANON IF YOU ARE STILL HERE THIS ONE FOR YOU!! Hiii everyone guess who's back. I had this fic cooking for a while now, actually i had a lot of writing cooking but in a very Ao3 author fashion a lot happened. You see i was on this writing streak and then my 15yo dog died while i was out of state. I had to go back on anti depressants and take a sabbatical. I got a new puppy and she's the light of my life. Got super sick, won a horse show. My first plan for this fic was having the first 3 chapters done and ready for debuting together because i always feel i'm lacking when i show up with only one chapter lol. After a while i realised i needed to get this first chapter out too see the light of day if i wanted to write again so here it is. This fic is a bit different from my other Alastor fics and i have a rough outline of 5 chapters so i think this beast will be more than 20k words long for sure. I decided to get a little deeper into Hell's politics and all the "no one ever thought of using heavenly weapons against hell even tough Hell's ancient and the best worst of humanity and demonkind is here". I call that bullshit sorry i'm brazilian i'm well versed in shady politicians and shady politics and unfortunatly, dear reader, you are in for this ride too. This fic kicks off right after "Stayed Gone". Also did i mention i'm brazilian and that my works are heavily inspired by brazilian media. This entire fic was inspired by one of my favourite songs of all time "Chega de saudade". And let's be real, Alastor and bossa nova are the perfect match. So yeah, english is not my first language and this isn't beta'd so sorry for any confusion or mistakes. Thank you so so much for reading my fics and always leaving the most kind beautiful and heartwarming feedback. I hope i can still deliver a nice story to my darling readers.

Click here for my other fics.

CHAPTER ONE: chega de saudade a realidade é que sem ela não pode ser.

In the first year you were calm and collected. There’s a perfectly reasonable explanation to why he is gone. Is he even gone, gone? He’s coming home soon, you can feel it. 

In the second year you convinced yourself there were signs everyone explaining why he was gone and when he was coming back, you were just too oblivious to them before. But everything can be a sign when you are delusional.

In the third year you cried so much you felt you were constantly drowning. You barely left home and some thought you were gone too. Gone to him.

In the fourth year you finally gave in and took the deal. Lack of self-preservation and machiavellian schemes working together to create a trap for him. He would come home out of anger, ire. But you can't outfox the fox.

In the fifth year you decided to scour hell and beyond after him. You went to places just to taunt him. Paranoia became your best friend, blood sweat and tears as you repeat “This time it will work, I'm sure of it”. Can a lie be said so many times it becomes the truth?

In the sixth year you accept defeat. You buried him deep and went about like he never existed in the first place. Isn’t it mystifying how this city screams his name?

It’s the seventh year now. The alarm on your phone rings and rings and you feel like scratching your face off. It’s time to meet your damned executioner.

Rolling out of bed you open the curtains to let some light in. The penthouse from the V’s building has a great view of Pentagram City, looking down you get the feeling of dystopian sci-fi that is so characteristic of the technology district. Limelights, digital outdoors, and big opulent, oppressing screens greet you like a constellation of dead stars, long distorted from their original purpose and form. 

You follow processional routine as you get ready. Choose a beautiful dress, put on make-up, and do your hair. It all feels like preparation for a sacrifice. One thing you learned from Alastor is that appearances are the best strategy and you intend to greet your handmade battlefield like a roman legion. 

Alastor. Even thinking of his name hurts, especially today when you need to face the consequences of your actions, the consequences of his actions. He is gone, he left you. And now Vox owns your soul. You blame your fall from grace entirely on him, he forced your hand, he made you do it. Out of desperation, out of defiance, you sold your soul to Vox so he would come back and save you, so he would come back out of hatred, anger and ire to tell how foolish you were, how betrayed he felt.

Betrayal. Selling your soul to his sworn arch enemy should be treason worthy of him dropping anything he was doing to come and punish you, to address you. You just wanted to get a reaction out of him, proof that he still cared. That he didn’t just get bored of the empire of terror he fought so hard to build in Hell. That he didn’t, deep down, just disregard you like a shiny novelty, to be left when it got old. 

You dry the persistent tears that insist on falling with clinical coldness. You are past feeling sad now, you don’t even feel angry anymore. You are past any emotion really, you just want to get this over with and get back home.

You went about your deal with Vox in many different ways, sometimes you felt like it was a good alliance, a slap on Alastor’s face. A side quest to gather as much information from the V’s inner circle, a social experiment. The truth is, during these past almost four years you were a mental gymnastics pro to justify your new arrangements. The cognitive dissonance required to live with the decision of being forever tied to Vox was an herculean task and boy he didn’t make it any easier on you. He would never be as refined as Alastor when it came to torture but there’s something about the coldness and calculated reality of the television business that was it’s own type of Dante’s inferno.

As soon as he got word of Alastor’s disappearance the TV overlord was on your scent, and he wasn’t shy about it either. You dodged him and led him on for almost four full years before finally giving in, everything was more or less under control during the early years of Alastor’s disappearance. 

Until you saw the angel army leaving.

  Death and gore were all around you. The sky rained blood. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to take a step forward only to realize you were knee-deep in demon blood. Adam was particularly ruthless this time, he seemed to have realized the unbalance in Hell’s power structure with one of the most prolific demon overlord’s absence and took full advantage of it. You choked on the sulfur filled air while the portal closed and Adam threw a last middle finger at the Pride Ring. A clawed hand offered you support as you were about to fall, your heart skipped a beat, for a split second you felt elation. In that split second a thousand thoughts, four years of misery and confusion passed through your mind like a movie. You were sure this was Alastor, showing up after the unprecedented carnage of today’s reaping. With the next heartbeat came the delivery of the most cruel reminder: the hand reaching for you was Vox’s. Alastor doesn’t care about anything anymore, not even losing territory. 

The TV overlord was covered in thick, red blood and looked vindicated, a wide chesire’s cat grin on his face. Baptized in carnage, Vox had finally triumphed for the V’s.The V’s were now a force to be reckoned with in Hell, there’s no argument to be made.  A good chunk of Alastor’s territory was now under their control, and everything that came with it too. Including you. 

“My darling doe, be careful, we can’t have you hurt after the battle is won can we?” 

Darling doe.

You threw up at the casual cruelty of the name Alastor called you with such affection being desecrated by Vox. He still supported you as you spilled your guts, you’d blame it on the nerves, the adrenaline, the reeking smell of death. Not on the fact that you knew he finally won, that the thing that broke you was to hear your name like that, on your lover archenemy’s lips. After that it happened. You sold your soul to vox. Of course he coerced you into it, and you were so mad with grief and betrayal that you felt like betraying Alastor back was the just thing to do. Pettiness and paradoxical hope dripping from your lips as the whole thing was done. 

Every year this same flashback assaulted your mind as you got ready to meet Vox on the anniversary of your deal. It never went past the look you gave those pixelated eyes as he held you on that barren land, stopping right there when you made the decision that finalized your ruin. You still wouldn’t, couldn't face what really went down when you formalized your deal with Vox. Those memories were suppressed and tucked in under layers and layers of regret and self-hatred. 

You gave yourself a final look in the mirror. No makeup smudging this time, you were getting good at numbing your feelings. Just a few tears, no more sobbing.

The yearly meeting with the V’s after the extermination was the perfect cover actually, everything was done in a way that it seemed like you were all cooperating. After all, you did hold a very good knowledge of the inner workings of Alastor’s deals, subordinates and territory. You knew who the V’s could “call in favours” and how to keep the peace. Or as close to peace as peace came when an abrupt power transition happened in Hell. You were a valuable asset to anyone really. Articulated in politics, masterful at the art of persuasion, kind, soft, charismatic, assertive, all in perfect balance, and frankly, breathtakingly beautiful. It wasn’t without reason that Alastor fell for you and that you became his most trusted advisor. You and Rosie were able to conceal his absence and manage his affairs for good two years and the better part of the third without raising any suspicion. Of course, the bigger they are the harder they fall and now you were walking down the corridor of the V’s building carrying a bulk of important intel that would dictate the fate of the Overlord power structure for the next year, at least. 

The hallways of the building changed a lot since you first walked them. As the V’s grew in power, the building grew in grandeur. It was now an imposing beast, looming over Pentagram City. Modern corporate architecture that incorporated the savage capitalism of Vox Tech. Savage, cold, sterile, overbearing that’s how being inside the lair of Hell’s most up and coming trio felt. The tall ceilings and big glass windows were exactly what you would expect of a broadcasting network and silicon valley Big Tech company combined. As an esteemed guest, you got the privilege of staying in the coveted penthouses, with someone to attend to your every wish and demand. You also got an idea that Vox went a little extra with your treatment as a form of flirtation, he has been trying to convince you into moving in for a while, every time you stayed in, your usual penthouse had some shiny new thing that was  made just for you, as he repeatedly emphasized. 

This year’s token of affection was a makeup mirror-gadget-thingy, that looked out of a Totally Spies episode. You had to admit to yourself that this was way more thoughtful and useful than the gifts from the previous years. The thing was cute, practical and would come in handy, which was a big improvement. Vox had tried to sway you with all types of guns and high tech devices in vain. Well, there was also that embarrassing stance with the wire flowers with a hidden recording device. Needless to say that after that entire debacle Vox learned that he may own your soul but you weren’t a damsel in distress and you would reinforce your side of the bargain if he went too far. 

You reached the elevator and went in, pushing the button for your destination. 

The earlier you start this the earlier it is over, you remind yourself.

The panoramic elevator descended to the well guarded conference room, the guards didn’t bat an eye to you entering. You realized you were becoming a familiar face around here, that made you dread what’s ahead of you even more.

“There she is! Hello princesa, I missed that pretty face!” Valentino greets you. He’s the only one inside, sitting on the edge of the table.  Well, that’s unusual… you think. Vox was always the first to get to the post-extermination meetings, plus he always gave you a slightly early timetable so he could have some alone time with you. Something must be going on.

“Hey Valentino, it’s nice to see you too! What gossip do you have for me today?” you give your best chirpy tone to the love moth. Look, you know how bad Valentino is, he is despicable really, even to your standards. But ethics are fluid, to say the  least, in Hell. The acclaimed porn king was surprisingly engaging to talk to. He was fun and actually treated you like a person, which was paradoxical in itself, considering how infamous he is for exploiting and commodifying souls. You drove yourself mad with theories of possible agendas behind Valentino’s kindness towards you, but it was the simplest of answers really, for some reason Valentino liked you and he never denied himself of what he liked.

“You have no idea! We have a lot to catch up on, did I tell you about that bitch who was trying to spy on us?” a set arms gestures to you to sit down next to him. The next 10 minutes are spent talking frivolities with the moth. You’re not complaining, it's nice to get your mind off this dreadful day and you don’t get many. 

Valentino, as always, has a lot to say, little goes on in Hell without him knowing who, what, where and why. Information, gossip, rumors, facts, if a single out of context word can be weaponized  you better be aware that he knows. Pentagram city can be divided into districts and ruled by lots of different overlords, still, Valentino’s intricate web of influence and coercion stretches across all territories. Another poor soul manifests here and goes somewhere they should not be, talk to someone they should not talk to, discover something they should never know. All cases of “wrong place at the wrong time” are happily solved by a large sum of money from the moth and suddenly another thread is weaved into his web of knowledge, another secret  made his. Valentino doesn’t operate like most Overlords and that’s where his power  lies. He bribed and fucked his way into every major circle, every  overlord’s inner circle, Hell’s best kept secret. If you were anyone in the hellish afterlife Valentino either fucked you or fucked someone very close to you. 

Knowledge is power, and Hell’s gossip girl was proof of it.

You swallowed a lump you didn’t know existed, hearing the moth talk about how things changed in a matter of hours during the early post-war made you even more aware of the severity of the intel you were carrying. It was earth shattering (no pun intended) information. 

Angels can be hurt. Angels can be killed. That meant a completely different way of existing in the afterlife, if this information goes public, the consequences are unpredictable and dire.

You don’t feel excitement knowing you technically can fight back, you feel pure dread.

To be completely honest, you feel like these “news” are not really news. You were pretty acquainted with politics back on Earth and this whole “omg no one knew about this! even though this was staring us right on your faces! is total bullshit. Hell is ancient, the exterminations are not a new thing, and there are some pretty smart people down here. To think that millenia after millenia masters of torture and skilled killers never thought of using heaven’s own firepower against them is wishful thinking at best. Sure, maybe after a few generations most sinners, even those who have power, may have been kept out of the loop about the chick in the holy army’s armor… but not knowing this at all just feels like a pretty convenient case of collective amnesia. 

Convenient, that’s exactly what this is. It’s brutal, but that’s Hell. A scheduled massacre is a blessing to those who rule to maintain, reinforce and extend their power. And if you get lucky enough, empires will fall and you will make your move. 

Vini Vidi Vici, that’s all you need to know about how Hell's politics work. 

It’s true that with every massacre the Angel Army gets more and more brutal and unhinged. What was once justified as righteous mercy killings to stabilize the ever growing hellish population now is just a display of cruelty, these angels kill for sport. There have been rumors floating around of how the disproportional annihilation tactics are preparation for something bigger for a while now , and with the demonic royal families either operating totally off Pride Ring or being completely MIA, it is no wonder those influential enough are starting to get restless. 

And that ties back to your first point, the thing that got you picking the skin around your nails while Valentino gossips. There’s a reason why this is being revealed now, you know how creating a narrative works, a few smart words and ideas become beasts of its own. A beast of its own that will tear anything on its way with the right fuel. The V’s have fuel to spare. Whose interest is that this information stayed hidden? Whose interest is that this information was allowed to be shared now? 

Hell is constructed by layers and layers of complicated militias and parallel governance, each one a locked room of secrecy that is impossible to enter without a huge amount of connections and power. 

“In a world of locked rooms, the man with the key is king. And, honey, you should see me in a crown” Valentino wisely said to you once. He’s a man of many many keys, and right now you are holding the fucking master key under your arm. 

Speaking of Valentino, he notices that you dozed off and snaps his fingers, grounding you back to reality. 

“My, my. You must have extremely sensitive information today to keep you from hearing the nastiest, hottest gossip of the moment babe” He takes a hit from his cigarette, an elegant and sensual move straight from an Old Hollywood film. The heart shaped smoke rings caress your face and for an instant you feel hypnotized, nodding your head profusely. 

“But I already knew that” behind the rose coloured shades, you see a playful wink from his infamous red hot eyes. 

The porn overlord quickly snaps his head towards the huge automatic doors, that open and reveal Vox and Velvette walking side by side exchanging looks between them that scream conspiracy.

“Sorry about the wait, my darling” Vox purrs on your way, stopping behind your chair and placing his hands on top of it, fingers dangerously close to your neck and shoulder. He pushes your hair to the side and lingers there, on your neck. “but as they say ain’t no rest for the wicked, am I right?” Velvette takes her seat beside Vox’s empty chair, meticulously placed in front of you, polite pleasantries leaving her mouth. She’s still a mystery, you never know her true stance on you, she keeps you on your toes. Does she like you? Does she hate you? Does she even care? 

“If you say so, boss!” you give him your best pageant smile. “So, who’s climbing up the ladder of the food chain today?” You bat your eyelashes at him. Your performance begins.

“Aw baby, you know I love when you call me boss! keep talking dirty to me” Vox lands a wet kiss on your cheek and makes his way to his chair.

 Right in front of you, so he’s always staring at you, drinking in your every move. You cannot fail, you cannot falter. 

As much as you’ve gotten used to pretending, pretending you like the V’s, pretending you don’t feel disgusting inside for being here, pretending you don’t hate Alastor for putting you in this situation with a burning passion but still missing him so much you feel someday your heart will stop beating in protest to him absence, it’s still hard. Especially when Vox touches you. Your eyes focus on cybersharks swimming behind Vox’s seat and concentrate on keeping your awarding winning poker face. 

“This year looks really promising I will tell you that! The orders for both your weapons and tragedy porn cameras doubled since the last extermination! I will give credit where credit is due, that fuckboy Adam knows how to put on a show!” he snaps his fingers graphs, stats and footage appears on the various screens. But it’s all irrelevant, it won’t matter when you spill your secret. 

“Lot’s of veeeery interesting happenings but I thought this year we might… start differently. Let’s forget the profit talk for now, change things a little. Did you guys see anything out of the ordinary? Did something stand out?!” he spins around his Big Boss ™ chair and stops with his hand under his chin, leaning in to you like a schoolgirl with the hottest new gossip. 

“Oh! I heard things -” Val also leans in getting closer to the TV overlord face. 

Vox’s grin shrinks, lifting a finger in protest 

“We know, we know, you always hear things Val” he replies in a monotone tone

Velvette, who spent this entire time typing away on her phone, interjects 

“Look, don’t take this the wrong way girlypop” finally looking at you she asks, or rather, states the million dollar question “ but what Vox means is that we know you have something  big cooking inside those files, so let’s drop the bullshit and go straight to it” 

The doll puts her phone down, she knows how important this is, how this secret will probably dictate how things will go from now on. You can call Velvette many things, but she is clever and under all that attitude and posh accent lies a brilliant strategist. 

“Plus, we all know you are contractually obligated to tell anyway, so spill, and can make this quick and painless to everyone involved” 

Right, your cartesian, empirical proof that angels can be killed.  Caught on the scene of the crime with the gun in your hands. 

You don’t waste anymore time, the words leave your lips like you’re choking with the threat they present. You tell them everything: where the exorcist was killed, how he was killed, the golden ichor blood that oozed from the wound, where the body was hidden. Everyone is silent while you speak, even the mechanical sharks seem to have stopped swimming to listen. 

After that you don’t remember much more of the meeting, it felt like you took the backseat of your own mind, the overwhelming feeling of dread making you so out of breath. Something is coming, something fucking coming and you can’t breathe. Anxiety sets under your skin like a second skeleton begging to crawl its way out and you find yourself sitting in one of the lavish anterooms of the V’s building. 

“So, the cat’s out of the bag then” you recall hearing Vox saying when, as if on cue, a few moments before the meeting was being declared over, the emergency broadcast about the reduction of the extermination date from a year to six months was issued. You four watch the transmission and you wonder if that’s what it feels like to get the news of the end of the Cold War, the doomsday clock finally hits midnight and we are nuking each other out. 

Mutual destruction assured. 

Your mind wanders back to your life on earth, if life up there is better or worse these days. You died so young, everybody told you, your Untimely Demise a big topic of conversation that you yourself didn’t know much about. But nothing, nothing in all of your living years and your years from Hell to eternity could prepare you for what comes next.

“So the Radio Demon is back in town! Why is he hanging around? What does it mean for your family?” 

The news hit your ears like a tsunami and you feel dizzy. It’s easy to find a big screen here and you are running to the closest one before your brain can even compute the words. 

Alastor is back, Alastor is back, and he didn’t come find you.

The next sound wave is even worse, dragging you ashore to your feelings without any reprieve. 

“Salutations!

Good to be back on the air! Yes, I know it's been a while, since someone with style treated hell to a broadcast

Sinners, rejoice!”

This isn’t a prank, there are no cameras and a sadistic tv host waiting for your humiliating reaction, instead all pairs of eyes in Hell are glued to the screen watching as the two Overlords fight it out. 

Thus, no one notices how your entire body shakes and your vision goes black. It’s too much, and you grip the rails from the stairs that lead to the foyer for dear life. Your heart is beating out of your chest. No one notices how you cry, how you whimper Alastor’s name like a prayer, how the tears run down your face and you feel paralyzed. You want to run, a million thoughts per heartbeat making your head swim. The best you can do is collapse on the floor. So you do, you collapse trying to catch your breath as you plan your sweet escape, how you are going to Houdini yourself out of this situation right to his arms.

“Tune on in

 when I'm done, your status quo will know its race is run”

You want to kiss him, you want to slap him, you want to tell him how much you missed him, you much your fucking hate him. You want him to drag you to his rooms and make you pay for cursing him out. You want him, you want your Alastor back. You cannot breathe.

“Oh, this will be fun.”

and then all the lights go out.

There’s a beginning of an uproar happening, the electric building dies a quick and unforgiving death, demons run around and Vox is flying down the stairs trying to do damage control. But even he is failing to keep his composure, because he knows. Oh how you know too. 

Alastor is like a natural disaster, a shattering force that bends everything on its way with the sheer force of will. The inevitable reckoning that comes to your town, that judges and executes everyone that you love. 

And now he is here. 

You see the burning red hot pair of eyes first, their predatory gaze hold the entire room hostage, looking for his prey and then they land on you. 

The piercing intensity of Alastor’s eyes, the flickering reds of damnation itself, regard you with surprise, elation and something more. So overbearing those eyes are, they make you shiver, bearing the weight of his gaze that penetrates deep into your soul. Your soul that is not yours anymore, it belongs to the man he hates, the man he despises. 

The Radio Demon’s towering frame closes the distance between you two in five long strides, you do your best to keep yourself upright and not cower at the sight of him. He looks like Rapture and righteous torture, coming to deliver your setance. Vox knows his sentence is being delivered here and now too, so he runs, runs to you.  You feel static and an electrifying pull, metal clinking. A chain. A glowing blue chain on your neck and Vox’s pulling it tight.

“What? what the fuck is going on? what’s this?” snapping your neck quickly towards Vox you whimper, you beg. The few seconds you stopped looking into Alastor’s eyes causing seething rage inside the deer demon, ire that makes the room tremble. 

‘“Talk over the radio, that way everyone can hear, baby” Vox says straight at Alastor, like it is a shooting gun. The look on the TV Overlord is maniac, a sideway cocky smile that drips pettiness. Just because Vox clearly lost this battle, with all tvs and electricity on petagram city going dark, it doesn’t mean he can’t still forever tarnish this victory. 

Alastor’s demonform covers the already dark building in opaque, thick shadows, radio static picks up around the room like a tornado chocking the majority of the unfortunate demons that are still inside, in a desperate attempt to seek shelter. 

No words leave the radio host’s lips as he grows even taller, breaking the posh entrance of the building, debris flying down causing even more damage, the tall glass windows shatter in a million pieces courtesy of his tentacles tearing down everything on their way. The sounds of destruction and despair are loud but you haven’t been listening to the world outside you and your returned lover’s radio dial eye’s for a while. A doe caught in the headlight of his eyes the best you can do in brace for the inevitable impact that is coming your way.

In a flash of his scarlet eyes a fire ignites, the flames born from it are unnatural, behaving like a hive mind to kill and destroy.

 You always knew that facing Alastor after these 7 years would not be easy, but you never imagine your reunion like this, in the midst  of pomppeian fire, a wild raw power, the oncoming storm that is Alastor when he attacks. 

Vox knows this fight is over, his ego hurt and today’s accounts always written as a victorious comeback from the Radio Demon, nevertheless, between the three of you Vox will always know who really won, who drew the last card, had the last laugh. He did, holding Alastor’s girl on a leash because he owns her. The soul of the woman the Radio Demon dared to love is his, the man Alastor despises with a burning passion, and that’s enough for now. 

The raging flames circle the three of you and without much more flair Vox drops his act, your chain disappearing from your neck. You drop to the floor, branching yourself on all fours. You consider crawling your way to Alastor, so you can explain, so you can cry, so you can beg. You don’t know for what exactly you will be begging for: your life? his forgiveness? his punishment? you just know a lot of begging and pleading will be involved. 

But the decision is made for you.

“Run, run my little darling doe” Vox commands “Run and do whatever you need to do” 

You get up on your feet in a completely ungracious move and Alastor’s out of the room instantly. The flames never touch you on the way out, the outside world greets you: a cacophony of screams, sirens, burning sounds, the infernal orchestra that becomes the soundtrack of your life.  

“Oh, and by the way” Vox screams from the threshold of the decaying building “we just got news that your place on Cannibal Town got trashed by some wayward sinners during extermination. But don’t worry you can always come home here, come home to me!”

You do your best to ignore his taunting, and you pray to whoever is listening that Alastor didn’t hear it. But it’s futile, the pavement where he is stepping cracks a dark cloud of static and shadows trail after him. He definitely heard and felt the implications of these words. 

“Al.. Al!” you scream running after your lover. 

Fuck, you’re still in heels, and those aren’t your running heels.

Kicking the damned shoes off you run faster, you cry harder and plead faster.

When you lived, your life always felt a bit surreal, weird stuff happened to you that you couldn’t really explain. People always joked that screenwriters of your life were the most creative people alive, the thing that happened to you never happened to anyone else. You died young, with a big, full life ahead of you, but you took this as gospel to your afterlife, after all everything related to your death was a mystery to you. But the things that happened to you living or dead were a raw reality impossible to make up.

 The uncertainty of your death only fuels your resolve to fight for the life you found in the afterworld. 

“Al, wait!” you are starting to get truly desperate, you need to get to him otherwise you are pretty certain you will drop dead here and now.

 “Alastor please, please listen to me” your voice failing, you finally choking from the smoke, from the suppressed tears. If Alastor doesn’t hear you now you are not sure you can carry on after him, you’re too tired too scared. You him to save you like the damsel in distress you are right now so bad.

Alastor dramatically comes to a halt. 

“I. am. Not. Having. This. Conversation. Here.”  his voice is staggered, still. Filled with static and a murderous edge to it. His long arms catch your wrist and pull you close, flush against his chest, you almost stumble but a powerful arm around your waist locks you tight to him. 

It’s the first touch in seven years, your legs shake at the realization that he’s real, he’s here. You lock your arms around his neck, the familiar fabric of his overcoat, the soft strands of his hair, they all feel like coming home.  

Something inside Alastor snaps when he remembers, when he feels how small you are in comparison to him, only one arm securing you safely to him. Some paradoxical fight starts inside him, wild wild want, wild wild rage against tameness, the docile calm you bring whenever you are at his side. 

The world disappears for a few seconds as darkness engulfs both of you,  inside the black moving vacuum only the two of you exist, greeting each other in bloody homecoming. 

Alastor takes you back to the Hotel, landing with a low thump inside his room. For a second his hand supports the small of your back, preventing you from falling forward. After all it’s been 7 years since you shadowtravelled with him, he knows you are terribly out of practice. 

His consideration towards you only lasts this precious second thought, because he makes his way across the room, creating as much distance as he can between the two of you. Your touch disarms him, he is aware of that since the first time your hand brushed against his, the first time his lips ghosted on top of your knuckles. If Alastor is touching you he is extremely likely to get soft, to remember how much you mean to him, what you do to him, so he will be merciful. And right now the last thing the deer demon wants is to be disarmed, to show you mercy. He can feel your betrayal burning inside his veins, clouding his judgment with ire and jealousy.

Alastor doesn’t fight those feelings, on the contrary, he lets them take him by storm adding fuel to his already bad temper. That’s the only way he can face you now, that’s the only way he can make you understand. 

You don’t get any time to gather your bearings, from the corner of your eye you notice a forest. His room is bigger on the inside and has a fucking conservation area but that’s hardly the most pressing matter at the moment. The pressing matter at the moment is that you are getting whiplash from touching your demon lover for the first time in seven years and his subsequent refusal to touch you, stationing himself across the room to you.

Why isn’t he with you? by your side as you ride the shockwaves of today together? You are scared, but above all you feel overwhelming sadness. 

“How did it happen?” he finally snaps, breaking the deafening silence. It’s the first time Alastor regards you, directly, in 7 years and the weight his words bare is so heavy you wish for more of the silence. “Tell me, how did it happen?” his eyes are wild, dangerously close to radio dials. 

“How did it happen? You tell me Alastor! You left me, you fucking left me!” you wish you could be your usually articulated self, you rehearsed this conversation so many times in your mind and in none of them you started with such venom on your lips. But it has been too long, and maybe the poison from all those years alone and afraid beside Vox drips through. 

The Radio Demon sees the tears that fall profusely from your big doe eyes, and they sting more than an acclaimed torturer like him could have anticipated. Alastor finds himself still disarmed, because with every single glistening tear that falls he can see how hurt, how scared you are. He is the only one allowed to make you scared, he owns your fear.

But that’s the problem isn’t it? He owns nothing. Vox does. And that realization turns him back to feeling seething rage. 

“So my mere absence is enough to change your devotion? Is me being here the only thing that stopped you from falling into his arms?” more poison. By the end of the night you both will choke on it. 

“Al.. Al” you are sobbing now, your throat tightens and it’s hard to breath it’s hard to speak. “ I had to do it. You don’t get it, you don’t get it.” your voice breaks “hemademedoit, hemademedoit!!”. You swallow half the words, whimpering, as if you say it fast enough the action will quickly become the past, as if the memories won’t haunt you. And yet the memories flood your mind

A dim-lit room, the smell of blood and something burning.

“He is gone baby, and he isn’t coming back”

Electricity makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up. 

A stranger’s hand pushes the hair to the side of your face, dread creeps up inside of you.

“This is the only way my dear, the best decision you can make” 

The same stranger’s hand grab you by the waist 

“I’m the only one who can protect you now, you know that right?”

eyes that make you freeze, it’s hard to think. eyes that make it hard to say no.

“If this is hard for you, you can pretend that I’m him” 

a wrong type of static pricks your lips 

“This won’t hurt” 

a shockwave hits your body and it feels like you are being split open

You have to steady yourself on the closest piece of furniture. You cower as the repressed memories from the night you finally gave in to Vox assault your mind, trying to make yourself as small as possible, like he is coming back to do it all again. Cries and incoherent words leave your lips and you don’t know if you actually said what happened or if this entire time you have just been crying. You entire body hurts as you hyperventilate “Al, I’m so sorry” you whisper 

That’s what undoes Alastor, you curling yourself in a ball, defeated and scared at the ghost of the man he hates. You looking away from him like you are undeserving of him, of his punishment, of his love. Like you are tainted. Alastor can’t make the exact words of your confession about how it happened, but he heard enough. Vox would never make you come to him willingly, Alastor knows that. Whatever Vox did - and Alastor has a lot of ideas of what he did - he will pay double for it. 

 Alastor’s blackened heart shatters when he calls your name and you don’t look up to meet his eyes, like you always do. He was always your lantern for when you were drowning. He meant to break you, hurt you like that. He just wanted to make you come to him, beg for his forgiveness, beg him to soothe the pain. 

“Mon coeur, my sweet darling doe you are safe” Alastor voice goes so soft it hurts “Don’t fret, it’s in the past, it’s over, you are safe with me now as you are meant to be” he coos.

Still, you can’t read your lover’s mind. So you don’t know his heart is shattered, you don’t know how much he loathes himself for letting this get this far. You are so caught up on your own feelings, reeling the rage and the memories that you miss the softness of his voice and his outstretched hard and you inevitably choke on the poison. 

“No. No!” you snap “You don’t get to say that. You have no right to say that!” you scream as you get up “I’m not safe, I will never be safe because you weren’t there to protect me, you promised Alastor, you fucking promised” the poison is now inside you, heartstopping waves of hurt consume your body and sprit. Right now the same burning passion that makes you heart beat for Alastor makes you hate him too. You were never good with ugly feelings, you always pride yourself for being soft to be strong. Your kindness and act of rebellion during the hellish reality you lived. You were never good with bad feelings, so you do something you never thought you’d do.

You shove the Radio Demon, that man you love so much it drives you to insanity. You shove him because the shame is too much, all the ugly feelings ball up inside, convincing you that you don’t deserve him, that you already lost him. And you won’t survive his dismissal. 

You never talked back to him, you never raised your voice. Not because you were afraid to, but because you never had to, hence the reason why Alastor is so taken aback that your pitiful attempt of violence actually moves him from where he was standing. 

Alastor shoves you back, pushing you up against the wall with a searing kiss. He kisses you like you are his last chance at salvation, like he wants to be redeemed. He licks your lips as you struggle to catch your breath, pushing his hips hard against your core, making you straddle him. Alastor doesn’t grant you a moment of reprieve, his lips come crashing down on yours again, his tongue inside your mouth dancing to a madman’s tune. He does what he does best, he takes and takes and takes. He takes your breath away, he takes all the callous words that threaten to leave your lips, aimed at him. 

You succumb to your demon lover, your nails dig into his skin and he moans inside your mouth, he bites your lips enough to draw blood. In the end Alastor is still Alastor, and of course he gets all hot and bothered when fighting. You feel delirious with the taste of his lips, your blood and your salty tears mixing together, an unholy ambrosia. His hardness press just the right way to make you sing creating a current of desire after a seven year long drought. 

His hands are quick, ridding up your shirt making he grab your ass and then your hips, strong enough to bruise. His clawed finger is already tweaking your nipple that way he knows you love. Your bravado melts, in perfect synchrony to when he sinks his teeth deep into your neck, drinking everything: that wretched poison that tarnished your words, the sacred warmth of your blood. You moan his name like a prayer that he promptly answers, he’s kissing you like a drowning man again, your blood on his lips painting your lips red like you both just drank from the holy grail, his hand cups your other breast and you vow to never speak to him like that again, only if it’s gonna get you up against the wall like that with him. 

And then he stops. 

“I hope this kiss haunts you” he says, voice still drunk with desire, low and threatening. He swiftly moves you off him, walking away and creating the same distance from when this all started “haunts your every breath, finds its way inside your every waking moment until you are mad with regret” 

You are bewildered, eyes widening in disbelief. What is he doing? How can he go from 0 to a 100 so fast? 

“I hope this kiss haunts you, so you never forget that you were the only woman who ever had me at the palm of her hand and you decided to throw it all away with that calamitous cynicism of yours.” 

So that’s what’s happening. You can never expect to beat a master at his own game, Alastor is still cruel when he is merciful. When push comes to shove he will always win. There’s only so far you can get with taunting his repentance,  playing with his heart laid bare at your feet, filled with sorrow and begging for forgiveness. He was ready to apologize, to dry your tears and soothe your fears, worshiping your delicious body and the ground you walked on. He was ready to admit that this was half his fault until your venom stung him beyond the realm of spoken word. 

“I understand it now, it must be hard for you to cope with your own decisions, your own failings, so you take it all on me. I hope you remember this when you come back to beg, on your knees for my forgiveness. And trust me, you will.” Of course Alastor would torture you with the knowlodge of his guilt and despair, the loss of his benevolence, the promise of desire and carnality. He will always be a torturer at heart, and you forgot that’s the first rule you need to always remember when dealing with him. 

“You’ve got your demons darling” never was your precious pet name said with such disdain. Static starts to gather around you, and in a flash his hand is on your neck

“and they all, Look. Like. Me” his voice is distorted when he finishes cursing you, there’s a tempest behind his eyes that entraps you, the burning red of his irises condemn you. 

The Radio demon is a raging fire, an oncoming storm. But he is also meticulous, cruel and calculating, if you dared to question him, to step on the grace he gladly gave you, you clearly were aware of everything he did to lull his absence. All the plans and contingencies he made to hush your worrying thoughts about him and bathe your threshing heart on tranquiline waters.

And you decided to mock it. To mock him and his love for you. 

You are crying again, but this time Alastor is fucking glad he was the one to hurt you, to reduce you to a mess of regret and tears. 

Tonight in Hell, power shifts from one Overlord to another. Sinners plan and freak out accordingly.

 But their machinations are all meaningless. 

The 7 years you spent away from Alastor made you sad, the three years spent on Vox’s side made you bitter. The V’s operate on poison, it’s their fuel. And maybe the poison drips through.

Tonight you drank the poison and it broke you.

Tonight, for the first time, the poison broke Alastor too.

[jubileedeeznuts-posting]

ourple

gushing beneath read more lol

these two are my favourites their individual writing is fantastic beyond all means and their dynamic is so engaging but u didnt need me to tell u that so

now please bare with me while i take a moment to appreciate the hell out of their voice actors bc they are genuinely so fucking amazing it’s insane.

pancakeking's voice acting is absolutely phenomenal there is genuinely no better potential voice for hiroaki in the vocal chord out there, his voice is such an asset to hiroaki's charisma literally it is so endearing, even in the peak hiroaki obnxious moments and arcs i literally could not help but like him because of how god. damn. endearing. his. voice. was. every line is delivered perfectly from his comedic moments to the softening of his voice and the emotional range and changing between them is so god damn excellent

ryanplay provides such an emotional punch in every moment of takeshi he plays it's actually ungodly. like i think about how vulnerable and heartwrenching he sounded in [breathe] when takeshi says im just in a weird place right now every. damn. day. and don't even get me started on the now you're trying to get into my head line. OR ANYTHING IN [fractal] OR IN [sub-zero] it's actually insane how one man can portray such swaying emotion in one single line. genuinely haunting. the fucking life he brings into takeshi is just so inspiring it's crazy from the laughter behind lines to the actual devastation there's been so many times i've had to pause or replay one of his lines bc of how HARD it hits.

the voice acting and writing in tetro is just so good i have no stopped raving about it to my mate and i know damn well he is so sick of me. its fine ive convinced him to watch tetro with me this wednesday.

[celabi]

It's your local fungi with a horny thought. We had our sports fest at school today and I played badminton for my section. I went to the bathroom after my match and was all sweaty and shit (Tennis shorts and all that wink wonk.) But also secretly wishing Scara would see me and take me in one of the stalls. That was hours ago, I spent the whole time since, trying to not lose my shit over being sexually frustrated. Expound on this please I will kiss you if you do <3

Gym class with Scummy Scaramouche! ☆彡

Blublublublub hiiii I don’t think they do pe in college but take wtv this is *bites lip seductively* mwa (it’s short$) tbh this is kinda not what you asked but it’s also similar at the same time lol sorry!!

Scaramouche used to absolutely despise P.E class. Because no matter what sport the teacher made them participate in, almost everyone tried to target him some how, y’know, cause he’s a loser and stuff. People using all their strength to peg a dodge ball at him, going out of their way to trip him over him track, being the last one picked in group activities… yeah, it was kinda rough. So naturally, as he got older, he tried to put his past behind him as much as he could— wether that be lying to the professor and saying that he had a bad knee (sometimes he’d make Ei write him a sick note to make it more believable… this is a grown man everybody), or just skipping out on the lesson entirely (by cramming himself in a bathroom stall and playing on his phone). Basically just doing anything to get out of it— but that all stopping when you came in.

Coming in with that tight gym uniform that he thinks hugs your body figure just perfectly— watching as it slightly raises when you bend down to do all those different physical activities. The way the sweat that drips off your face and down your neck made you look almost if not angelic… and if he had a jar, he’d ask to take a little sample from you jfc I’m so sorry. How your tits bounce every time you jump up the catch the ball, you’d have to literally shake him back and forth for his attention to leave them (but even then he’s looking down and watching them jiggle lawl). The small shorts that let your cute little butt peak out from under them … he quickly grabs his bag and places it in his lap to hide his boner.

Um anyways, he scrambles up from the floor and slowly walks over towards you— momentarily stopping you and your friends conversation, which you smile and they groan about. “Hi Scara, need something?” So cute, he thinks, his feet padding across the ground until he’s finally, fully in front of you, while also trying to secretly scoot your friend further away. “Yes, you…’re help with something, can you cu— come with me? Please?” You smell even better then he thought. Scaramouche hums happily when you agree, and reaches out for your hand to pull you along and away from everyone else. Your friend tries to pull you back, but he shoots them a deathly stare over his shoulder and tightens his hold on your hand, a silent head shake in warning, they roll their eyes and let you leave.

Scaramouche thinks gym class is not that bad, as he locks the door to the stall and turns around, where you’re standing there, unaware (or aware, maybe who knows) of the effect you have on him, and looking at him questionably. “You… want me to help you pee, or something?” He blinks, and lets a little, amused chuckle fall from his mouth.

“… no I— i uh. Can you turn around really quick?” A strange request, but you comply nonetheless, and turn around until you’re facing the wall. There’s a quick shuffling sound coming from behind you, as well as Scaramouche letting out a few curses under his breath— before you feel his body pressing up behind you. “Thank you… you don’t know— know what you’re doing to me, do you?” His arms wrap around your torso, hands sneakily slipping under the fabric of your shirt and landing on your bare skin— which he shamelessly prods at. And when you look down, you can just barely see something poking through the gap of your thighs… it’s the tip of his cock, it’s angry red and leaking cum already :( “you look so beautiful wearing this, so— so perfect. I hate that everyone else can see you.”

Humming, you reach down and tease your fingers over the slit of his cock head, making him drop his head into the crook of your neck and whine pathetically— before he slowly starts to rut his hips into you. “So good, so good…” even through your clothing he can feel the way your pussy rubs against his cock.

“The lesson ends soon… we’ll have some fun, yeah?” (A threat not a question) your voice is so heavenly, he squeezes his eyes tight shut, and moans into your skin. “Yes… yes please.” He feels your hand leave his cock, and your arms raise up to pull off your shirt, and he gulps. ‘..finally.’

Err the end bye 🫡

[megamindsecretlair]

Room 1918

Cross posted on @megamindssecretlair

Pairing: Nomad Steve x Black!Fem!reader / Plus Size reader

Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI. Dominance, breeding kink, unprotective p in v, fingering fem receiving, biting, cum play, blow job, and dirty talk.

Word Count: 3,569k

Summary: After the troubling events of Civil War, Steve is constantly on the move. But even a super soldier has needs. He just so happened to fall for your charms and you promptly fell into an arrangement. At each hotel you meet at, you reserve Room 1918 and wait for him.

A/N: What can I say, I'm toasted and feral AF for Nomad Steve and just kept writing. Apologies in advance if I missed warnings or offend anyone.Not beta'd or proofread all that well, it's almost 5am for me. LOL. While likes are awesome, please consider commenting and reblogging to support writers!

He’s late. You pace back and forth in front of the window, peeking out every so often. You bite your lip as you think about all the reasons he could be late. The feds caught up to him, he was killed, or some emergency. You think about turning on the TV but the thought of seeing his face plastered on the news makes you sick. 

In between your worries, you’re also excited. Your skin iss sensitive already. You anticipate all the wicked things Steve will do to you tonight. You blow out a breath and look out of the window one more time. 

A knock on the door makes you jump. Your heart races as you cross the dark navy carpet towards the door. You look through the peephole and see a familiar bearded figure with a cap on his head. Still, per his instructions anyway, you call out, “Who’s there?” 

“It’s me,” his deep voice rumbles from the other side. You smile and open the door. Steve stands before you in dark jeans, gray shirt, and a black hoodie. His cap is pulled low over his brow and his beard is growing out. He has a full and proper beard this time, most likely to fool security cameras.

You lean your head on the hotel door and just drink him in. Even in casual clothes, he looks every inch the super soldier you know him to be. Your cheeks warm as you objectify him. His broad shoulders barely fit through the frame as he walks in. 

He pushes past you smelling like sandalwood and soap and man. He is at least a foot taller. He towers over you. He sniffs at you as he brushes past looking down and looking you over. 

You’re wearing a baby pink robe with black trimming. The bottom slightly flared to accommodate your wide hips and it was trimmed in faux mink. It contrasted perfectly with your russet skin. The dim hotel lights make your skin glow and you hope the glitter was showing. But the dark look in his blue eyes let you know that it didn’t matter. He is devouring you in one look. 

“You are a treasure,” he says. 

You giggle softly and close the door behind him. You lock the door and stand before him and let him look his fill.

He takes off his cap and throws it onto the mahogany dresser. His hair is darker, the blond more akin to brown now. His hair is longer too, runaway strands landing into his pretty face. 

“You broke our rule,” he grumbles. His brows draw down, scowling at you.

“Which one?” 

“I could see you from the parking lot, looking out of the window. You can’t do that. If someone catches you…”

“They won’t. No one knows about us. We’ve been careful,” you say. You approach him until you are chest to chest. 

“All the same. Don’t look out of the window. Someone could see, or someone could harm you. These windows aren’t that effective.”

You roll your eyes. You did not wait a whole fucking month to hear a lecture about safety and evasion tips. All you had were stolen moments. One day of being in his arms. The other days, there was no communication. Full and total blackout. You anxiously awaited news that he was captured or killed. Until the next time he hit up your email. 

You set up a joint email account and communicated via the draft folder. He’d send you a city and you’d book a flight. Since you worked for yourself, there was no one to answer to but yourself. Your friends and family just thought you liked to travel. They called you lucky.

You were dating a ghost. And every day he was on the run, was another day you could never be together. And it hurt. 

“Did you just roll your eyes at me?” He asks. 

“I promise I won’t look out of the window next time,” you say. 

“Did you roll your eyes at me?” His voice pitches lower and he scowls even further at you. He spoke slowly as if you hadn’t heard him the first time. A tingle shoots up your legs. 

“Yes, I did,” you say. You raise your eyebrow at him.

Steve sighs and rubs his beard. “I’m not in the mood,” he says. 

You coo and closed the remaining distance, rubbing your hands up and down his arms. “I can fix that,” you say. You trail your hands lower, moving your hands over his jeans. A noticeable bulge grows under your exploring hands and you rub him over his jeans.

Steve grabs your wandering hands in one hand and narrows his eyes at you. His blue eyes are scalding. You would’ve flinched if it didn’t just turn you on. The Steve that stayed hidden away was swimming to the surface. The side of him that he kept hidden was there. 

“I said I’m not in the mood. You’re taking dangerous risks. I won’t risk you,” he says. 

“It’s not dangerous, Steve. I promise. I just…I miss you so fuckin’ much,” you say. 

“That doesn’t mean you can put yourself at risk. You know you belong to me. What would I do without these days I get to see you?” He asks.

He’s right of course, the arrogant prick. “I won’t do anything to risk that, Steve,” you say. An attitude creeps into your tone and you know the moment you fucked up. His eyebrows shoot up at the same time his hands squeezes yours. 

“Just for that, you don’t get your treat tonight. You’ll have to wait another month,” he says.

“Oh come on,” you whine. You know you sound annoying and you hated it. 

“Keep it up, I’ll make it two months.”

“Steve, please,” you say. You pout, sticking out your bottom lip and rounding your eyes. 

“Three months,” he says. His jaw clenches as he stares you down.

“Please Steve, I won’t make it that long,” you plead. 

“I don’t care.” He grabbs your jaw, squeezing your rounded face until your lips pucker. “I told you that I’m not in the mood. Get your ass on the bed, now,” he growls so close to your face that his breath fans over it. He pushes you away until you stumble back a bit.

You manage to lick your lips. Something bad happened today. It was either a close call or he failed to help someone. That whole other side was begging to be pushed. He thought he needed total obedience, but he needed to get worked up more. To push past that barrier and consume you body and soul. 

“Let me make it up to you,” you say. You approach him and slid to the floor to get on your knees. You move closer on your knees. You reach up for his jeans and unbuckle his belt. You tug it through the metal loop. As you work to free him, you keep your eyes on him. He’s so tall, he might as well be a giant. Especially while you were on your knees.

The mink at the bottom of your robe tickles your legs and only works to make your skin hyperaware. The hold the man had on you was like being drunk. Total loss of your control. Your head is fuzzy and you sway. And you overall feel so damn horny, you were nearly combusting.

“Let me earn back my months,” you say.

You palm him and he sighs. His eyes flutter closed as you work him up and down softly. Your hand glides over his velvety soft dick. The serum really increased everything about him. His thick length intimidates you. You’ve sucked him off before but every time required a pep talk.

You lick the head of his dick, painting your tongue with his precum. You swallow the head and lick back and forth over the tip. A groan leaves Steve as he throws his head back. You take him in further, swallowing him down. His hips jerk forward and he digs his hands into your hair.

He places his palm on your scalp and grabs your hair at the roots. He soon takes over, fucking your mouth as if you were nothing more than a hole to be used. He sets the rhythm and the pace, bouncing you up and down. You look at him as you hollow out your cheeks. 

Steve’s dick hits the back of your throat, causing you to choke a bit. Steve groans hearing your whimpers and moans and quiet pleas. Still, he is relentless. Your jaw hurts and tears gather in your eyes.

“That’s my dirty fuckin’ girl,” he says. “Suck that dick, baby.” His whispered commands make your pussy clench with vicious need. His balls slap your chin. He reaches down with his other hand to pull on your dark left nipple. It was his favorite nipple for some reason. Probably because it was slightly bigger than the right and you swore it was more sensitive. Every time he pinched you, it sent a straight shot of desire to your pussy. 

Your whimpers increase, creating a sexy symphony of carnal sounds. His harsh breaths mingle with your crying and soon he’s groaning. “Fuck, this mouth is gorgeous,” he moans.

Steve abruptly pulls out of your mouth with a growl. He grabs your arms and lifts you to your feet. He leans in and licks the tears off your cheek. Then he’s kissing you, stroking his tongue against yours. He grabs your face and moves you backward until your legs are hitting the bed.

“You’re gonna take this cum inside of you,” he say.

“Yes, Steve,” you huff. You rotate your jaw to get some feeling back into it. 

“You only earned one month back,” he say.

You open your mouth to speak but Steve’s eyes burns holy retribution. He finally snaps. He pushes you onto the bed. You hop once. He stares down at you and rubs his beard. You got the sense that he was trying to figure out the best way to attack you. 

He glares at you as he strips. His shirt and hoodie are off in one fell swoop and flung onto the floor. He shucks off his shoes and socks and relieves himself of his jeans and underwear.

Fuck, he was beautiful. Tanned skin, a glory trail down to his impressive dick. It bounces under your gaze and you lick your lips. 

“You better be fuckin’ wet,” he says. He rips open your robe, the snaps releasing at once. You learned your lesson with the button and latch ones. Your robes kept getting shredded with his inhuman strength. And you really like this one. 

You don’t wear anything underneath. Somehow you knew that tonight would be different. Whether it was a hunch or intuition, it came in handy tonight. His gaze roams over your body, sighing and cooing in pleasure.

“You’re really fuckin’ perfect,” he croons. He kept eye contact as he leans forward and over you, licking your tummy. You whimpers. His rough tongue was divine. Surely it was a crime to be this addicted to somebody. His every touch set your nerves on fire. 

Fresh arousal drips out of your pussy and you keen forward trying to get his attention. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of that needy little cunt for you,” he says. Oh god, you whimper. 

He climbs onto the bed, forgoing your usual treat of him eating you out. You hoped that after he got that post-nut clarity, he’d be all too happy to oblige. But knowing him, he’d stick to it out of spite. By simply knowing that you needed his lips on your pussy. 

As he came over you, he kisses you so sweetly. Feathering his kisses over your full, luscious lips. He kisses the side of your mouth and then your jaw. He licks a hot trail on your neck. 

Your hands came up to rub his back. He’s on fire. He’s a living furnace under your fingertips. His muscles contract and flex beneath your touch. 

“I’m gonna fill that needy cunt with my seed. I want you so full,” he growls in your ear. The subtle gravel in his voice makes you tingle all over. “I need you so badly. Please,” you beg. 

You’re not too proud to beg. Your pussy aches and feels empty. You need him to fill you up now.  You had a very low tolerance for just about everything. Least of all this weird middle between pleasure and pain. 

Steve denies you further. He continues to rain kisses on your chest, sucking on your titty and biting you. He licks the sting away and then latches on to your nipple. He sucks and teases the little bead between his teeth. He uses one hand to dig under you and grab on to your fat ass. 

He squeezes and growls in satisfaction. He uses his other hand to roll your other nipple with his fingers. You moan and writhe. You sigh. “Please, please, please,” you cry.

He kneads your breast and pinches your nipple. Then he switches sides. His mouth came over his favorite nipple and gave it just as much attention. Freezing hotel air hit your wet nipple and you shivered. His free hand came up to warm your titty once more. 

“Steve,” you beg. You couldn’t speak anymore. It was too much.

“That’s my filthy girl,” he says. He lowers his left hand to dance over your damp curls. You suck in a breath. He digs his finger between your pussy lips and sighs. You’e so wet, the sounds of which echoed in the silent room. 

“You’re making a mess over here, sweetheart,” he chides. You whimper and your legs shake. Your nails dig into Steve’s shoulders. He rubs your clit in agonizingly slow circles. Your arousal ramps higher and higher until your body begins to jerk and twitch. 

“Cum for me, dirty girl. Cum on my fingers,” he croons. 

You’re stuttering breaths and shaking so much that he leans down further until he is right on top of you. The solid weight of him made you come undone. He curls his fingers inside of you and you come with a powerful force, waves of please washing over you. Your body seizes as you come. 

Steve talks you down from it, calling you a pretty girl and beautiful and gorgeous. Each new adjective soaked into your brown skin, lighting you up from the inside. You absently rub his head, letting his silky tresses slip through your fingers. 

Your skin’s overheated. If it wasn’t for his body laying on top of yours, you would’ve been shivering from how incredibly cold you were. You sniffle as runaway tears escaped your eyes. 

Steve kisses your cheek, once again licking up the tears. He makes his way back to your mouth. He kisses you lazily. As if you had all the time in the world. He bites your bottom lip hard enough to sting. Then he licks it away. He leans back and sucks on his fingers. The fingers that were inside of you.

You smell your arousal on his fingers. Your breathing starts to settle as Steve sticks his fingers into your mouth. You taste yourself on his fingers and whimper. 

He leans up until he’s kneeling on the bed. He grabs your thighs and moves them to his hips so that he’s lined up perfectly. He pitches forward and lets his smooth dick rub your clit. You’re still a bit sensitive from your orgasm so you twitch on every up-slide. 

Then, he shoves in one full thrust. You’re so slippery, he slides in without resistance. You both moan at the contact. You’re finally full and fuck, it burns so good. He stays like that for a few moments as you acclimate to his size and girth. 

“Fuck. Your pussy feels so damn good,” he says. 

You whimper beneath him and move up and down, trying to signal without words that he needed to move. He pants above you. His floppy hair falls over his brow and half in his eyes. He licks his lips as he stares at you.

Oh, right. You tap his arm twice to let him know that you were okay and he could keep going. You found out pretty quickly that he was capable of rendering you catatonic. You needed a system that communicated through taps to let him know that you were down for everything he was doing. 

He leans forward and kisses you before sliding out of you and then sliding back in. “Such a messy, filthy girl. You’re making a mess all over my dick,” he says.

“Oh god, Steve,” you cry. You clench around his dick and you both groan. You grab onto his forearms and wrap your thick legs around his waist. He starts to piston inside of you, going so deep and hard that he’s hitting the shit out of your G spot. 

You hold on, bouncing on his dick. His balls slap against your ass. 

“Fuck, I’m going to give you all this cum, sweetheart. Tell me you want it,” he says.

“I want it so badly. Please fill me up, please.” 

A desperate need takes hold of you. He feels so good sliding in and out of you with ease. You truly are making a mess. He takes your wrists in his one palm and lifts them above your head until your breasts are on full display. His other hand grips your knee and pushes it back to get a better angle. Somehow, he’s able to go deeper and you make all kinds of incoherent sounds.

You’re pretty sure you’re gonna bruise in the morning. His grip is punishing, locking you into place. Steve chases his own orgasm, giving you no more thought as he closes his eyes and groane. His stomach contracts from the effort of gliding into you. 

“Take this fuckin’ cum, sweetheart. I want your pussy full of my cum. Only mine. Help me fill you up,” he grunts.

He thrusts harder, his thighs slapping against yours. You clench and clench around him, your belly burning with the need to cum. 

“I’m going to put a baby in that pussy of yours. I want your belly to be swollen,” he growl. 

“Oh fuck,” you scream. An orgasm rips through you. Sparks fly behind your eyelids. Your body convulses and twists and turns. Steve lets go of your wrists to hold himself up. He pumps three more times before bursting inside of you with a long, guttural moan. 

His hot seed squirts inside of you, bathing your insides. He pumps a few more times before dropping on top of you. He shakes and you rub his back. You touch every inch of him you could get your hands on. 

He withdraws and you make embarrassing squelching noises as he pulls out. His cum leaks out. You groan from the sensation. He leans up and away, leaning back on his haunches so he can grab your legs and spread them apart.

He surveys his handy work and lord help, but you were getting aroused again. He grunted in between his huffs. 

“You keep that fuckin’ cum inside you,” he growls. He dips his hand down to gather up the cum that slips out. Then he pushes it back inside of you, massaging your overworked pussy. 

“That’s my fuckin’ pussy, that I can use however I want right?” He asks.

“Yes, Steve,” you whisper. You shiver from him fucking his cum back into you. 

“You gonna keep this cum inside you? You gonna grow my baby?” He asks.

“Oh god, yes Steve,” you whine. 

This orgasm sneaks up on you. One minute he is adding a third finger inside of you and the next, you’re huffing and whining and whimpering again. He fucks you through it, moving his fingers in and out as you cry out. Your sweet cries flow over the walls and hit you back.

“So needy and filthy,” he says. 

As you come down, he grins at you for the first time that night. He licks his fingers as he gives you a devilish grin. 

“The things I’m going to do to you tonight,” he says wistfully. His eyes look over your deep russet skin, your big tummy, and juicy breasts. 

You yawn and he chuckles. “Thank you, sweetheart. Get some sleep, we’ve got a long night to make up for.”

Steve untangles himself from you, crossing the room to the bathroom. You curl up on your side as sleep tugs heavily. Steve returns with a washcloth to clean you up. You feel the cold circle of your arousal on the bed. It’s huge. You groan. You can’t believe that all of that came out of you. 

Steve takes care of himself with his own washcloth before laying down and pulling you into him. His warm chest hits your back and your ass hits his dick. You both sigh as you wiggle a bit. Steve tells you to behave. 

He wraps a massive arm around your waist and pulls you closer, his fingers curling underneath you. You’re locked in and aren't about to go anywhere. 

You fall into a deep, deep sleep curled up with the literal man of your dreams.

There's more Steve to love! The Secret Nomad Steve Files

[sonicboomseason3]

Sonic Boom - Theft

NOTE: Here you guys are, a random excerpt from the larger Sonic Boom Season 3 project I've been working on! If people like this one, then I'm down to share more in the future as well (but only occasionally because I don't want to clog up any of the tags). But yeah, I'm not usually someone who's super confident in my writing, but I genuinely did like how this one ended up, and I want to test the waters with this so. lol.

Some context for this: Shadow has a part-time job at Meh Burger. and it's a running bit for Sonic to have a shitty time every time he tries ordering from him, but people who have been on my blog long enough already know about that particular lore. Also, sometime before this, Meh Burger replaced all of their menus with thin slabs of steel with words etched into them due to Reasons. Don't worry about it. Smiles.

--

“Uh…” Sonic faltered when he noticed that Shadow’s expression was visibly stormier than it usually was. “You… okay?”

“Where are my gloves.”

“Come again?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, hedgehog,” Shadow snapped. He pointed an accusatory finger right between Sonic’s eyes, causing him to go cross-eyed. “I haven’t been able to find them since this morning, and so I’ve had no other choice but to wear a backup pair provided by Meh Burger. Where are they.”

It took Sonic another moment to register the words coming out of Shadow’s mouth. Indeed, the latter was wearing the standard white gloves that everyone else wore instead of those weird gauntlet things. Aside from the golden rings clamped around his wrists, Shadow’s whole look was suddenly looking very, very plain.

“I… don’t know?” Sonic slowly replied, pushing Shadow’s finger back towards its owner. “What makes you think I have anything to do with that?”

Shadow scoffed and crossed his arms, clearly not believing him. “Because you are the one who would gain the most out of stealing from me. You want my gloves to enhance your own gear, which will in turn make your battles more efficient.”

“Are you serious, Shadow? I don’t even know where to begin with any of that,” Sonic said, beginning to get annoyed at all the hoops Shadow was jumping through just to blame him for his personal problems. “One, if I really felt like upgrading anything, I would’ve just asked Tails instead of going through all that trouble. Two, I have a perfectly good pair of gloves that I’ve been wearing for years, and I have zero problems with them. No holes, no chafing, no nothin’. I don’t even see what makes your gloves so special.”

“Of course they’re special. They’re the only pair in existence, unlike your inferior ones.”

Sonic’s eye twitched. “Yeah, well, at least mine don’t make me look like I’m wearing a couple of toilet plungers on my hands.”

“What?”

Honestly, Sonic didn’t really think that Shadow’s gloves were that bad, but he had his limits to how much he would take lying down before dishing right back. While he was definitely getting better at the whole ‘ordering Meh Burger when Shadow was on his shift’ thing, there were still times when he lost his patience. This was one of those times.

“Hey, can you exchange insults somewhere else?” Dave, showing up out of nowhere to stand next to Shadow, whined. “I’m sick of doing overtime cleaning up after your fights.”

Sonic supposed he should feel some semblance of gratitude towards Dave for preventing the fistfight that had definitely been about to happen, but he was still too irritated at being falsely accused. “Dave, tell Shadow it makes no sense for me to steal his gloves.”

Dave turned to Shadow with an eyebrow raised. “Your gloves are missing?”

“Since this morning. And if it truly wasn’t Sonic who took them—”

“Dude, for the millionth time, it wasn’t.”

“—then I will hunt down this unknown thief if it’s the last thing I do,” Shadow finished, completely ignoring Sonic. “And they will pay for daring to steal from me.”

“Wow, it’d sure suck to be them then,” Dave yawned, raising a hand to cover his mouth. The other two immediately took notice of the fact that he had on a very familiar red, black, and white gauntlet. “Too bad I don’t know anything.”

Sonic stared at Dave’s hand shielding his yawn, and then stared at his other hand hanging by his side. Sure enough, there was Shadow’s other glove. “Seriously?”

“David,” Shadow ground out through clenched teeth as he reached for one of Meh Burger’s steel menus.

To Dave’s credit, he didn’t even flinch at the realization that he had been found out. Instead, he closed his eyes in acceptance right as Shadow smacked him in the side of the head with the menu, the CLANG resounding throughout the entire restaurant. He fell to the floor, out cold.

“What’s wrong with you, Shadow?” Sonic asked in exasperation. “You’ve been here with him for hours at this point. How in the heck did you not notice until now?”

Shadow didn’t reply, only gazing down at Dave’s unconscious form with open disdain. Something else in the corner of his eye caught his attention, and his scowl deepened. “Sonic,” he snarled, his mood worsening even more. “My air shoes are missing.”

“Come again?”

Shadow, growling like a wild animal and possessing more flexibility than a limp pool noodle, kicked his leg high up in the air and slammed it down on the counter for Sonic to see.

Thankfully, he had socks on, but Sonic still could have gone on with his life without the increased proximity to Shadow’s unshod foot. “Oh my god, dude, don’t—”

“I said my air shoes are missing,” Shadow repeated dangerously, his leg still resting on the counter. The counter where food was supposed to be served. “If you have something to do with this, say so now.”

Sonic threw his hands up in the air. “We’ve already proven I didn’t steal your gloves, so why would I steal your stupid shoes?! And again, how do you go around not noticing this stuff?!”

Shadow opened his mouth say something, but the sound of an evil laugh coming from above cut him off. They both looked up at the sky and saw Eggman hovering in the air… with some newly acquired footwear and not his Eggmobile. Sonic slapped a palm to his forehead as Shadow’s eyes narrowed into slits.

“There you are, Sonic! Behold, my greatest plan yet!” Eggman announced smugly, descending to the ground and striking a pose in front of his foe. He was trying to look cool, but the effect was slightly dimmed by how he was clearly in pain despite all his gusto. Of course he was, given that Shadow’s shoes were a few sizes smaller than his own. “I’ve figured out a way to match your speed, and now I can finally defeat you, thanks to my new roller skates! Don’t even try to stop me—”

“Trust me, I don’t have to,” Sonic sighed, hand running down his face.

“Wait, what?”

“They’re air shoes,”came three menacing words from right behind Eggman. Eggman barely had the chance to realize that Shadow had teleported from his spot at the counter before another CLANG even louder than the last one rang out. Down the street, a few villagers in their homes opened their windows, poking their heads out in confusion.

“This pathetic island is populated by trash and trash only,” Shadow sniffed. He threw the menu off to the side and bent down to take his shoes back. When he couldn’t remove them so easily, he growled again and resorted to yanking on them with so much force that Sonic was surprised that Eggman’s feet didn’t pop off with them. Putting them under one of his arms, he stomped back over to Dave’s body to do the same with his gloves. With all his gear now back in his hands, he glanced over his shoulder at Sonic. “I’m out of here. You can go get your swill elsewhere. Or starve. It makes no difference to me.”

He teleported away to who even knew where, leaving Meh Burger completely unmanned by anyone still lucid.

Sonic stood quietly for a second before looking down at Eggman, who was face down on the floor with his butt in the air, his toes red from being crammed into ill-fitting shoes, and his hands covering the rapidly forming bruise on the back of his head. “You okay, Egghead?”

“Mombot…” Eggman whimpered, dazed. “I want Mombot…”

“Yeah, I dunno how you thought that could’ve ended any other way, to be honest.”

[foryoufics]

Fake Flowers ch8 pt2

Authors Note: I'm not sure if this will be the last chapter; I'm really enjoying writing this one 👀

Taglist: @livingformintyoongi

Warnings: alluding to adult activities having taken place, YN is sick, worried JK, big bro+dad! Namjoon, winter lol

"Gguk, will you relax?" Namjoon looks back at his brother. He had been a I tizzy all day today. "Gguk, here," he passed him the hot beverage he had just purchased for him. "Thankyou....," Jungkook reaches for it. "YN, is fine." He says sternly, trying to ease his younger brothers nerves. "She is going to be okay. I think," he holds back a chuckle, tries to anyway, "I think you're overreacting. Thankyou," he says to the salesman and takes his own drink. "Ah~, nice and warm, it's good, drink," he guides his brothers cup up to his mouth. "Are you actually panicking because the contract is over soon?" He waits a moment, "Jungguk, the girls are with her at the doctors, yeah?"

"She was so sick, Joon...."

"People get sick sometimes, and 'tis the season," he glances at the snow flakes falling down. "Jungguk....hey.... alright....let's finish our drinks and do something, come on, anything you want?" That still riles no reaction from the younger man. "How about we go to a movie? I'll see what's playing....," Namjoon says and gets his phone to check Google, "Aish.... nothing good right now," he looks to Jungguk who was still staring into space and unaware he was picking his cuticles. "Jungguk! Stop." Namjoon grabs his hands, "what is going on? YN probably just has a virus or something"

"Think so?"

"Ah, he speaks," Namjoon laughs, "Yes, LT just had a virus, she probably caught it from him or something. So chill okay? Here, see anything you might like?" He shows Jungguk the showings at the theater and Jungguk shakes his head

"We could go home and play games?"

"I don't....I don't feel like it?"

"You don't feel like playing games? Do I need to take you to the hospital?" He laughs, "Jungguk, seriously, what's going on? How about, uh....how about we go have a few drinks?"

"At 11am on a random ass Monday morning?" Jungkook raises his brow

"Yeah you're right, not a good luck. Are you hungry?"

Jungkook shakes his head, "I'm actually so nauseous," he holds his stomach

"See, it's probably a big going around, you good-?" He couldn't finish asking before his brother was leaned over a nearby trashcan puking his guts out

"Hey for real man, you want to go to th-"

"I'm fine, just....want to go home, want to be there when the girls get back. Have they said anything?"

"No, they're probably still waiting. It's only been a hour. Come on, let's go home...."

------

"Ah~, you guys have it nice and cozy in here," Namjoon revels in the perfectly balanced temperature you managed to cultivate for the apartment. Not too hot because you turned every heat source to mock Jesus for a desperate grasp at warmth, but, not too cold either, somehow just right. "You good man?"

"Yeah," Jungkook nods as he sees the kitchen counter, then his eyes find the couch, they follow a trail to your room and then his

"You hear me? Hello~," he snaps out of the beautiful trance his mind had drifted to many times over the past several weeks

"You zoned out, so?"

"So what?"

"Have you told her yet?"

"Uh....it's complicated"

"Well, I'm pretty smart, lay it on me," Namjoon leans on the fridge and nurses his drink while it's unfortunately starting to cool, he decided to pop it in the microwave, "Gguk, what's it's complicated? Did you tell her?"

"I started to....then I remembered I had to wait. But I think she knows though, I hope....," he chews his lip

"Alright? Maybe it is complicated, even with my big brain, I'm not comprehending," Namjoon laughs and turns back to him, "Have you told her about her mom?"

"I told her that I found her back before her birthday"

"I meant that she's here"

"N-Not yet...."

"How come?"

"I was waiting for the right time"

"The right time?"

"Yeah...."

"Alright fine....," Namjoon stops badgering him for a few seconds, "the tree is really pretty"

"YN and LT did it," Jungguk smiles over at the tree adorned in ornaments made out of his handprints with paint, and little animals you helped him and Jin's nephew make with your hands, little drawings by the elder boy, and his favorite were the little trees you showed them how to make with the glue stick and folding up assorted decorative pieces of cupcakes papers and used their fingers to make the ornaments on those trees

Namjoon swells with warmth, "LT made the drawings?" He raises a brow and laughs

"Oh, that was Taeha"

"Why are they just sticks?" Namjoon tilts his head to look at them

Jungkook laughs, "he said it was Christmas so the trees needed to change into their naked clothes"

"Ah~," Namjoon chuckles, "so.....you haven't told her? Are you going to?"

"I want to....," Jungkook nods, "Well, I sort of have but-," they both turn to the door opening and the girls bringing you in and sitting you down on the couch, two thirds of the trio repressing giggles as one of them comes to her husband to take his drink. Simply smirking at Jungkook

"What?" Jungkook asks confused, "what's funny? Why are you looking at me like that?" He asks, his brother now looking between his sister in law and him. "She okay?" He asks, and comes over to your sleeping form

"Should I tell him or should you?" The one sipping the hot coffee asks the one coming back and handing her former fiance a blanket for the one sleeping on the couch, "I think you should"

"No, I think you should ~," they're going back and forth

"Ladies, is she alright?" Namjoon asks in concern

"She's fine jagi, she's fine," his wife pecks his lips and taps his chest

"Is it a stomach bug?" He asks and she almost spits a little coffee on him and shakes her head, "Tell him~," she tells the other her again

"You tell him~," the other retorts laughing

"Somebody tell me!" Jungkook snaps and his brother tries not to laugh, failing miserably, "okay, what's so funny? Why are we laughing? What's going on?" He looks down asking just his wife and she stands on tippy toes to whisper in his ear. A grin covers his face ear to ear, except the dimples. "Tell him~" "Who should tell him?" "Well someone has to, he's going to find out," Namjoon laughs at how stinking cute this woman is

"Guys?" Jungkook asks but the other three are too wrapped up about who should tell him that no one tells him

"Guys? Hello?" He calls again, still they're going around and around amongst themselves

"Oh shit, sorry Gguk," Namjoon laughs and puts a finger to his lips, telling the girls not to say anything just yet and doing their hardest they cover their mouths and make sketchy eye contact. "so, I understand now, you said you tried to tell her and you think she knows huh? Yeah?" He asks, amused by his brothers antsy and bewildered reactions

"Yeah?"

"You feel any better? Still nauseous?" Namjoon rests his mouth in his palm and his elbow on his other folded arm

"A little?" Jungkook looked so adorable and lost as he could be so the other three wanted to mess with him

"Yeah? You're all acting weird. So is it a bug? Is she alright?" He looks at you and grabs his now cold coffee on the table in the living room, "excuse me? Can I heat this up?" He asks because they were all three standing and blocking the microwave, they step aside giggling and wait for the beep and the exact right moment. Namjoon nudges his wife with his elbow and she nods, having her phone already recording by her side where Jungkook can't see. The girls are about to burst, Namjoon uses his hand to gesture for them to 'wait for it' 'wait for it' and then after the few seconds that felt like forever there was that beep, he still gestures them to say 'not yet'. The cup slowly, or at least slowly to them, reaches his brothers lips.

"Coffee in the microwave, bun in the oven," Namjoon speaks and it's the perfect moment, Jungkook spits his coffee and it goes flying; accidentally hitting his ex. "Aish! Shit, I'm so sorry. Are you alright!? What!?" He asks, having found the nearest towel to try and assist her with his fumbling hands, frantically apologizing

"Gguk-?" He was down, he's knees had given in but his brother catches his arm. "Woe, woe, I've got'cha, I gotcha....there we go," he sits Jungkook down. "Now I see why you were so worried earlier," he chuckles as he sits his brother down

[chaosology]

condensing it all into one post, here’s my…

works in progress

i’d abbreviate it to WIP but that looks too close to WAP and unfortunately i have the maturity of a 12 year old boy

this is in no specific order and it’ll be updated as they come in :) if you want to navigate thru the blog, i’ve organised it here and the masterlist is here

request # 1: barbie girl

“Can you do a follow up from chills where Sam does actually wear the barbie hoodie to a training or something?”

request # 2

“cannot stop thinking about sam x popstar reader and having cheesy ass love songs written about her like taylor swift’s reputation and lover albums omggg like imagine sam blushing in the crowd while reader sings to her during her concert i’m literally going insane”

request # 3

"lol what about having to fly with sam? she said it’s like her worst fear. or her getting scared"

lurking p3

social media fic with actress!reader

request # 4

“could you write one where Sam plays through a game but she’s sick? and she’s really struggling so the reader is like super worried?”

request # 5

“writing for this prompt (when the other holds onto their waist briefly as they're passing by and it just send chills down their spine) with Sam Kerr (((:”

request # 6

“i was wondering if you would want to write something with sam kerr and the reader and like they have kids and they watch sam play soccer and cheer her on or something?”

request # 7

“could you write a sam kerr fic where the reader got REALLY badly injured and trampled on in the World Cup and she’s got a bad fear of blood, so when she sees that she’s bleeding she faints on the pitch and sam immediately runs over to her (u can write the rest)”

request # 8

“Could you do one when where Sam an reader are going with Ivf an reader has a miscarriage and then later she gets pregnant if you can’t that’s fine love your writing”

request # 9

“Ok so ik that I've already sent you a prompt but I just had the BEST idea. Close your eyes and imagine this: last 10 minutes of the final, you get subbed on, and the score is 1 all, you are awarded a penalty, after final whistle bc sUsPeNsE. You aim for the goal, line it up perfectly and score, the final goal, winning the match. (Sam x reader bc why not)”

request # 10

"have u considered the other height difference option… i am a 5’11 girlie and i find sam’s aerial shenanigans hilarious like. 😮‍💨 girl doing all that jumping just to get to wendie renard’s normal height.. if you were taller you’d be jumping 10 feet easily but alas. anyway um. consider this a prompt for a taller gf height difference (no pressure obv!! just an idea if u felt like it lol)"

request # 11

"Heyyy could I request a sam kerr x reader where the reader is prone to like anxiety and during a match they struggle to breathe because of anxiety and the stress of the game and Sam like takes notice and tells the ref and helps them calm down. 👍😊"

request # 12

"it’s just off the back of your “bad idea right” one shot (fan btw)- just cause i’m soft asl, could we have a follow up please where it’s maybe the morning after or even later and sam is being a bit cocky/teasing/flirty and suddenly reader gets genuinely upset bc it feels like this will never end and they’ll never get over sam and sam doesn’t feel the same way. and sam immediately snaps out of it and it becomes all soft and vulnerable and hopefully happy ending?"

request # 13

"oh shiz i need like a straight mans trying to flirt with reader at like a game or an event and sam just coming up and mans is shook"

request # 14

"what about a proposal? would she do it at a game or like would the other tillies get involved? also like wedding vibes? xx"

request # 15

"ok but what about sam dating a preschool/primary school teacher? like idk but like i just thought it"

benched pt 2

"Part 2 of benched where reader goes into labor and Sam is running around like a headless chicken"

[elftwink]

been learning to play ironsworn (gritty fantasy ttrpg which you can play with a gm but is mostly suited for solo or small group co-op gmless play) after having the rulebook pdf for several years (stars finally aligned to remove invisible thing blocking me from reading it idk) because i'm on another solo ttrpg kick & i don't know what took me so long to get around to this game because it genuinely is exactly what i was looking for. years ago when i was playing through solo 5e modules i should have just been playing ironsworn (believe it or not, 5e isn't very suited to solo play and is extremely clunky when you try lol).

also though i have dabbled in some other solo ttrpgs, a considerable amount of them are journaling games which is fun but imo considerably more work (usually by the time i'm a quarter of the way through the journal entry, i know how to entire scene played out and i want to move on to the next gameplay thing, so i get frustrated and bored quickly. it feels like when you solve a level in a video game but don't have the coordination to pull off the necessary move so you have to spend 20 extra minutes doing something you already figured out), so i really appreciate like not needing to write something for the game to progress (ive been taking notes for my own record since im playing solo and thus am not really out loud roleplaying the way you do in a group, but i definitely could do that instead and not take notes and the game would still function perfectly)

& ive been playing by myself but also in the past ive played a lot of ttrpgs in very small groups which has been other games but is mostly dnd and like. we also should have been playing ironsworn so that having a gm was not necessary. have definitely played games where we had to adapt the rules soooo much to do something that is just base game included in ironsworn. plus it's rules-light enough to do pretty complex moves that pose difficulties in bulkier games (ever introduced someone to dnd and they tell you they want to do a sick backflip and catch something and then attack and you have to tell them that will require several different consecutive rolls and some creative liberties with how the rules are 'supposed' to let you move? you can just Do That in ironsworn. use the strike move and describe it. done!)

the one thing is that although it's rules-light enough to theoretically play any setting or genre (some with more difficulty than others), ive found so far that like... the grittiness and sense of threat is very built into the mechanics so that would be sort of difficult to work around or change (but i think it's great from a game design perspective). what i mean is like, okay: you start with 5 max hp. there isn't really a way to raise this max hp, you just slowly gain abilities (assets) that make you less likely to have to lose the hp in the first place, or that make it easier to recover. when you encounter foes, you rank them on a scale of 1 -5, and enemies on the lowest side of this scale do one harm to you, while enemies on the highest side do five harm to you. so even though encountering an epic enemy won't always be deadly due to the assets you have, they are ALWAYS capable of taking you down to 0 hp with one good hit. so the feeling of threat is much more present compared to games where your character starts to be able to just tank and push through a failure or huge threat.

admittedly also i'm playing solo, im still learning how to balance combat, and also i built a character who has NO combat talents and iron (the close quarters fighting stat) is one of my lowest stats so i personally am under much more threat than if you built a character who knew how to fight or who could do deadly harm. but also the other thing about combat is it's extremely difficult to maintain control of the fight; you have to score a strong hit to do it on basically all moves, and there's a really limited pool of moves available when you don't have the initiative, and obviously none of them really favour you. i don't know that this makes combat genuinely more difficult, but it does make you feel like the fight is always about to spiral out of your control. every second you let it drag without decisive action feels like it brings you closer to dying. like i said, this is a feature of the game design and not a problem in any way. just thinking about it because when i was initially learning i was going to try to supplant it into a homebrew fantasy world of my own but the tone just wouldn't be right. and that it is somewhat difficult to replicate the kind of worlds that i typically play or run for dnd, which tend to lean somewhat sillier and definitely much higher fantasy

but i like to try new things and tbh especially in dnd i find that i very rarely feel that sense of threat and when i do feel it, it has nothing at all to do with the actual mechanics and reality of the combat and everything to do with how well the dm sells it to me and makes it sound and feel scary and dangerous. which is a testament to what a good gm can do for you but i do appreciate the threat feeling more built-in and also being actually real.

[waterlogged-detective]

Romance ask game! A, B, L/M! (you dont have to answer all of them if you dont want- im just curious about how these two disasters got together lol)

Couples asks because I love talking about my boys

I think I have M in another ask so Imma skip that one rn

A: How long did it take for them to get together?/L: When did they first start having feelings for each other?/B: Who asked who out? Who caused the first kiss? Who proposes? (Lumping these together because i sort of just started writing oops)

Things just sort of happened, honestly. Neither of them could pinpoint an exact time that they started having feelings for one another. It was one of those things that just sort of evolved. The thing you have to realize is that I just enjoy drawing silly comics more than I do drawing closer to Doe's actual personality because a whole lot of it is an *act*. Like sure, he's silly, and he's a nice guy, but he actively chooses to be those things. Because the world is kinda dark, isn't it? Kinda gloomy. And at the end of the day you're just a drop in the bucket of everyone's life, right?

So maybe their feelings developed when sitting on a rooftop bored and banished to the colonies again when Darcy asked Doe if it ever got to him, all this *acting*. Because he noticed. He absolutely did, he'd been the same way in college. Acting nice, like things mattered and he wasn't bored all the time with everything. And he got so sick of it. If nothing mattered why not have fun? Why not do what you want?

And maybe feelings developed when Doe asked him what he meant...because even if he *is* acting, even if nothing really matters...why not be kind? Why not let people think he's stupid if it helps someone at the end of the day? Maybe someday it will matter, just a bit. If not the world then it helps a person. And a person is a world. Each one of them.

And maybe that answer pierced a bit of the cynic's heart. Maybe a little.

And maybe they each found someone who understood the world the same, even if they had different opinions on it. And maybe that's a bit of a relief. And maybe understanding is the first step towards love.

As for who initiated things, they just happen, don't they? Naturally? No one asked the other out, they just started going places together, sitting at a table and sharing coffee. Playing cards, having conversations over days and weeks and they might as well just live together, right? Make things easier. Put things on paper because neither of them is really sure that anyone actually knows what they are (and neither do they if they're being honest. But it's love, they know it's love) so they might as well call it *something*. And maybe the roof of the Neath would fall in, maybe the sun would shine, so it might as well be *now* right? Might as well. Even if neither of them thought it would all end. Not really. It was silly, too silly. But it was an excuse. And now they have something to call each other, alone or in public. Something that doesn't quite fit what they are, but fits it perfectly all the same.

The Kiss as they don't refer to it as, was Doe. Not drunk. Not even pretending to be. Something he'd thought about for a long while. Considered. Not really planned, just something he realized he wanted. Something he knew Darcy wouldn't initiate, for fear of rejection.

Ah. But fear isn't the right word. Nor is suspicion.

Because Darcy was worried things would change.

And they did.

But change is nice.

And some things matter.

[shyswag]

Teen Titans rewatch episode 4

⭐️ When Beast Boy’s prank goes wrong and Starfire uses a Tamaranean term I appreciate how Cyborg and Raven adopt it into the conversation instead of glossing over a word they don’t know which acknowledges their friend. For a children’s show I think little details like that in dialogue are especially wonderful!!

⭐️ Robins smile while he uses a snapped bridge rope to fly through the air 👍

⭐️ Stars ice out of Beast Boy is the perfect way to deal with him lol. I also think having Beast Boys apology be more forced by having him assume Starfire is hurt also allows room for him to make similar mistakes again in later episodes.

⭐️ Beast Boy and Thunder dreamscape + Slade in disguise + rain sequence = one of the first instances of the villains influencing the style/art decisions. In episode one we have odd looking villains and the fighting happens in dark warehouse locations. Blackfire and The Hive dont do this but think of later episodes with Mad Mod, Mumbo, etc. In this episode our villains have obvious Japanese influence (as does much of the show) but it’s highlighted more heavily with Thunder, Lightning and Slades designs.

Episode 5

⭐️ “Just because I can’t have fun doesn’t mean y’all can’t” followed by meeting a young fan with a prosthetic hand/arm 👍 this is also a characteristic choice in terms of writing. Cyborg is black but his character themes in this show are often more parallel to that of the experience of a disabled person. Metaphors about race/ethnicity and storylines with lessons about cultural differences are most often given to Starfire, the alien. Still certain lines and scenes come to mind that allude to Cyborg’s experience with his race/ethnicity and highlight it. He’s the first to pick up on and understand Starfire’s discomfort with Val-Yor and while undercover as Stone his yearning for human community, etc.

⭐️ Mumbo

⭐️ Meeting the young fan again 🤧🤧 Cyborgs character is well documented in this episode. His insecurities and longing, his love and thankfulness for friends, his appreciation for simple human pleasures like food, playing games, listening to music, being outside and using his hands, perfectly tie to the resolution of the episode; while Cyborg has robotic limbs, his heart and mind are that of a human and his body helps make his personal human experience complete.

Episode 6

⭐️Starfire, Beast Boy, Cyborg, and now Raven! The most introverted of the group leaves Ravens character feeling more mysterious (aided by her cape and magical powers of course) During breakfast clean up Starfire says “there is much about her we are not meant to understand” and I find this estimation of Ravens character by her really nice. It’s not just that Raven is gothic and quiet, but Starfire is more well versed with unusual un-earthly creatures and perhaps recognizes this part of Raven.

⭐️ This mirror is maybe??? the first indication that Raven isn’t just a person who uses magic, but a magical being from another world. Of course Cyborg and Beast Boy are chosen to go into Ravens mind because 1. That’s the funniest combination but 2. Cyborg in episode 3 has a line about how Raven bottles up her emotions, and at breakfast his comment about leaving her alone is of good intentions but not as insightful as Robins “she’s our friend what else do we need to know” or Starfires “not meant to understand”. He’s more understanding than Beast Boy of course, but Cy would gain the most benefit from this venture vs Star or Robin development wise.

⭐️ “For the hundredth millionth time we forgive you!”

⭐️ “Now you’re a marine!?”

⭐️ This shits so crazy like wdym your dad is locked away inside your mind and also he’s a towering red demon. Also her becoming white Raven is so sick. I also like how the summation of her personality is represented as her usual blue. When Trigon transforms into a Raven and rejoins her, the white cloak goes away and our regular Raven is there. With her white cloak Raven is idealized, she is herself without the burden of her father. But he’s integral to her being, her past/family history deeply shapes who she is and that’s okay 👍

⭐️ Robin holding Starfire back is a good “bridge” moment for him. The whole teams exchange at the end is really sweet though

[velvetporcelain]

Why do I live life so detailed? 🤔

does our pace in life determine what details we pay attention too and what ones we do not?

is our mental health crisis due to the lack of knowledge one has about oneself?

or is it due to the complete lack of understanding we have for the human mind. is everything just a really good observation by trained human eyes?

what about spiritual details? is it hard for some people to believe that the spirit is what keeps us alive? more so than anything? I can see my spirit and it looks very much like the higher image that I have created of myself in my mind. Put together by random life experiences and feelings, thoughts all glued with ideology.

how do we pick and choose what is real? who studies how we behave? who watches our habits? do you think it is odd that the government regulates everything that kills humans? like tobacco and alcohol mostly. but I find it can present a number of rabbit holes for me to drop down. I love me some rabbit holes. It's like using your imagination all over again. I love improving in my rants. Really eccentric thinking.

I dont ever think I could write a movie though. My bits are short and impromptu. if I forced myself to think of an entire movie script I think I would die. Wow talk about writers deserve more money. LOL what stress they have. Nah, I want to remain free writing and free thinking while I can.

I consider a tray full of cookies and some weed foreplay and maybe this is why I live life so detailed. so wild. so deeply. I'm having flashbacks of my past life as a delicate, renaissance woman, one with very pale skin, and I hated the king. I hid in the spiraling brick stairs, wondering if I were to ever find something that could match me if life would zero out on me?

and you see-

that's a problem with me. well, because-

I always want to think of myself as someone impossible to match, because that is my go to comfort thought when I am feeling rejected. And I really believe this now that I have been carving it in the caves of my mind like hieroglyphics.

what if I'm actually abusing my feelings? what if I have never experienced anything truly detrimental to my psyche or emotions? these are the things I am terrified of. I don't want to feel spoiled in my emotions. I am afraid to love sometimes.

I was always confused how people could believe so deeply in go and in heaven, yet they are almost always afraid to die. Me? I am afraid of life. And it is something in my mind I rarely speak of. I can easily look at the enduring side of things. It makes me angry because I have learned enough of life to understand, or compute the questions I still have, or fears that hide within me. No one wants to learn the hard way.

--- so who is making it hard for us? anything that doesn't kill us, kills us slowly. you can see it in our thought patterns and the way we hold onto something so unimportant. we hold onto things and let it kill us, because it makes us feel something in a world that is numb.

we always did seemed to be most awake after death is involved. in any aspect. war is a good example. civilians have no fucking clue or give the slightest fuck what the military does to the mind. they are just asleep in their beds peacefully. sick. we didnt care about the severity year genocide in Israel until death was plastered all over the news. fuck dude. why is the media death hungry?

I bet any seasoned news watcher would tell my seven year old he shouldn't be playing games that involve death, but be perfectly okay to counteroffer with watching the news. but what about the modern day news watchers? do you think that they are faired that we will lose faith in the news? The newer the generation, the less the faith? how did we get here? LOL

I have been regulating the information my boys are receiving on their devices. As I think it should be. But then again, if we hid the information, how would they react to seeing it casually night after night on the evening news as they age? does there brain act in disgust and astonishment? Or if they were aware of death early, would it act in a more "shoulder shrugging" passive way? Now? death is completely normal. They fucking made a five nights at Freddie's and they made it PG 13. Kids are playing with murderous, animatronics and it's seems to be completely acceptable by society. I realized this when they started coming out with cool tees and stuffed animal pals of the killing machines. is this how capitalism works? haha- no seriously---

where is this invisible playbook for humans?

do you think our constitution is interpreted the same way we interpret the Bible because of it's age and word choices and meaning, and their ideology at the time it was written? Has anyone ever thought of this? like I'm impressed by this question, and I would consider it a very honest question. it's two thousand and twenty three. can it be misinterpreted with the modern advances in our ideology as an existing race? How could they have possibly planned or accounted for our intellectual advancements?

does it really stay the same? is this why history keeps repeating itself too?

My last cigarette of the night has been well enjoyed. I thought about a lot today. I look forward to thanksgiving and the break that comes with it.

You know-

Where I get to teach them the death of all the Indians and how we gathered together and killed a big turkey and wiped the blood off our hands and hand shook the terror away.

Okay I’m done. 🤘✨🕊️😆

-x

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary4

hi, i did go to melt banana today, and i just got done putting hydrogen peroxide (somehow, just forgot what that was for a few seconds, i guess because i'm so sore all over) on my knees cuz they got bashed on the stage, i was right up front the whole night in the middle.

there's a pic of me my gf took, where i basically was the whole time they were on except i sort of slid farther and farther and right over the duration of the show because of crowd currents but there were 3 other bands, one was a really good local crust duo called swamp brain, bass and drums only, they'd also get really sludgy which was sick, and the third band right before melt banana was another really good grindy hardcore band called life's torment, both of these were local, agata was in the crowd during life's torment's set (awkward thing to say/write). there's not a lot to say about them, i think as far as local bands i've seen around here beyond my friend's band, this is the most absorbed by the music i've been honestly, i didn't mosh or anything during their sets, there wasn't a pit anyways, i don't know how much that disappointed them or disappointed the people in the crowd. i stood there and just absorbed the music, cuz idk how long lived these acts have been/will be, and it's not unlikely that it'll be the case that they can't get much recorded.

during swamp brain i did have a funny thought, about how hipsters, because the drummer kind of was perfectly hipster looking, glasses beard hat, a specific sort of shorts + band shirt thing, love sludge metal. this is the case for myself, it's the kind of metal i tend to like the most, at least, so i wasn't judging the band really but it also felt mean, like i don't know, like i was imagining he didn't have cred. but who has cred. it's all spectacle anymore. cred is dumb mostly.

the 2nd band, as i am, were really baffling, it was like 4 father-aged men kind of just doing their own things each. the singer really wanted to do rap rock so he'd go for it, while the drummer, who had an absolutely huge kit that included windchimes and a triangle on their own weird sort of lovingly crafted stand, tried to drum as prog as possible. the guitarist played, i dunno, he just played i guess, and the bassist was wearing this mortally faded mayhem sleeveless shirt, an unbelievable thing to think about was how he and the guitarist probably played much weirder stuff together and tried to get other guys to join, and it sort of became a weird cock rock disaster. they didn't even seem to know who they were opening for, and also, a huge cluster of old people came up front for that band. really strange stuff, they must have some kind of following. i have no clue about whether or not that's local or not.

we did get a t-shirt, also, i'm excited to wear that. speaking of that yesterday i talked about how i planned/scheduled my getting ready period and a lot of today was spent languishing / waiting on showering/shaving so i could pluck (lol cuz when am i ever going to get laser hair removal) as much hair from my face as possible. and then i showered which was normal and stuff and then i tried to do my hair in a bouffant but i don't think i'm ever going to get my hair in a bouffant and that makes me a little sad or maybe horrifically sad because it would be perfect i think but i'm too dumb to figure it out or my head is just not good for that really. so my hair's got a bunch of spray and hair clay in it and it was big and fucked up, at least. then i tried like 3 outfits on in a kind of rush, the first two were way too pretty/nice and i was kind of cunt about that because i wanted badly to wear them but my gf told me it was a bad idea and i was resistant for whatever reason. i'm really annoying like that and i wish i weren't but being told not no but that's a bad idea is worse than just being told no i think, for me, which is dumb because someone's trying to save your feelings but it just feels worse/ gently condescending i guess. i should be less stupid. i settled on a really fun thing i think, at least, which is more fun cuz i was trying to do a 60s dress w/ a belt in the middle thing but w/ a tshirt and dress layered under. it's at least the thought process that went into that. the trying outfits on kind of sucked because the whole time i was worried about my gf's mom showing up to take us there early so we could eat before the show.

anyways here's the look pre show:

and here's one after the show:

look at how my sweat interacts w/ the hairspray, so grody!

and god my back hurts rn and my shoulders too.

also today i did not wake up early or work on music like i wanted to, which sucks, and i didn't really write and that sucks and makes me feel bad/lazy/whatever, kind of dumb i guess. i feel dumb and worry about feeling dumb and never want to feel dumb always, constantly, i want to get out of my own head so badly a lot but it sucks and i can't, i want to be perfect always too and that's making me crazy right now kind of, it's at the back of my heart, it's inching in and it'll take it over and i'll walk in circles a bunch some day soon but not now, so there's dread that makes it harder to approach all the things i am working on and want to do. i want to cry now talking about this, and lay down and curl up and stuff.

during the show i got so sweaty that my mascara leaked into my eyes and i had to wipe them on my bag but it kept burning and i was crying because of that, and that felt good/interesting, the fact i was suffering and the loudness of everything, in retrospect i'm really happy about experiencing that and all the people shoving me, and the moments where i got to dance in my little spot up front, communing as best i could with the total noise of the band, the only other show like that i've been to was the machine girl show in reno i went to 4-5 years ago. i think this one could have been better, as a show, the crowd experiences were a little different, i think machine girl's crowd felt so extremely positive, a narrow group showed up for that, all weird and mostly gay, in reno which is a miserable place, so the dispersal of energy was kind of total, everyone was aiming at excess and i guess we all met it together. w/ melt banana it was getting there with the band and my friends, but moshing/dancing felt like i had to weaponize myself sort of, to protect from these really dumb people trying to rush to the front and guys who just kind of, i dunno, threw themselves against me/anyone just cuz i guess. one guy was awful in particular because he was grabbing me/anyone who looked like a girl, he started getting his nails involved too i remember, and he'd get really close on my ass too somethimes, and just try and pull you away/push you out because he wanted to be up front so badly. he was some dumbass in a denim jacket, i had to sock him in the ribs at one point because he got too aggressive w/ me and everyone else up front that didn't look tough, i guess. he retaliated (obv) which isn't bruising or anything it seems but like i said he and a bunch of other people made my knees get all fucked and i spent myself so totally i can hardly walk straight. even typing sort of hurts. so you know that this is like a labor of love, i think, right.

anyways, i know it sounds like i really hated the crowd but i didn't, mostly, i just think crowds at these types of shows can get very annoying, and w/r/t weaponizing myself, i wore chelsea boots that have heels and i was jumping up and down and i know i was landing on people's feet. sorry but fuck you kind of, i guess, maybe i was as bad as anyone else, i also feel like that's just how you assert some claim over space i guess. i dunno. all i wanted and what i got was communication w/ the music, it really overpowered me and being made blind because of my makeup sometimes added to that, it felt really honestly religious, and it's silly music, i like that anything/everything can feel like that.

after the show i stumbled to sit in a big couch a little while, and then i had to go piss. when i go piss in public i use the men's room cuz idk what to do so i just go w/ whatever default i've had because since i have a penis i have always figured no one would argue with me, but tonight, after pissing, this bathroom attendant said: you can't be here. and i was washing my hands so i was like: okay. he handed me paper towels and i left. that was really funny. honestly i think i feel basically good about that because i honestly feel like after i dance a lot at a concert and am all sweaty i have to be pretty uggo and like, not fishy anymore. i guess he thought i was, or something.

i'm reminded now, i kept thinking, watching yasuko use her midi control pad thing to play the drums / do fills and things, that she was giving mother. i felt it really deeply, it is a conviction, it's a river that ran through me my whole life and i've found it, in the crust of the earth, people who dig under their houses and find subterranean pools and streams. it's been a long time since i'd really listened to melt banana, they were there since hs for me though, it had the dust of excavation about it, hearing lost parts stinging me so cold was really incredible, a perfectly simple riff just driven so hard it absorbs you into it, or something, that song is an ideal of music.

even her voice, it was faintly there, maybe that's cuz i was so close and the guitars were so loud, which was fine cuz i was wearing earplugs (obv) but seeing her saying things and not hearing added a lot, they were there somewhere, or the effort to communicate and the willingness to get lost in the mess was really perfect, it matched the music, both of them were so happy performing, when i got there i was worried they were both not happy, or something, i dunno. idk why, but agata was wearing his mask and yasuko was sitting at the merch table stonefaced. they seemed genuinely happy onstage though, the whole time i saw agata's eyes smiling.

such a violent joy, i want violent joy always and forever.

we did hang out with my friends after, my friend's gf got super wasted and had to sleep and i talked with my friend about his music, i read him this hilarious thing another friend wrote in his notes app that i read to everyone but i won't read to you probably ever, sorry. it's this insanely goofy rap he wrote, goofy isn't the right word but the right word is really cruel and i feel like i don't want to be cruel right now. i just want to feel like this always, a weight lifted from my back and a soreness in its place, the soreness an etching onto my body of having been somewhere and having done something.

[ackermental]

Hi! Hi! I hope you’ve been having a beautiful day or evening so far! How are you? :D I saw this post this morning, and I love how you dissect and go into detail with different accounts of stories or opinions and I was genuinely wondering, is it true that Daemon cheats on Rhaenyra with a mistress? Or was that another false claim from Mushroom/The Maester? Also there is that dreaded claim that Daemon is only after the throne and not after Rhaenyra’s heart! I wanted to know your honest take on this, I love open discussion a ton and it gives me further knowledge and insight truly! :D (Ps LOL am I a sick fuck for actually smiling about the Mysaria comment towards Daemon about Rhaenyra? I’m sorry, but Daemyra could cause me to go bankrupt, I’m absolutely addicted to them, I simply CANNOT. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🐉🐉 anyways! Thank you for taking the time to read all this if you find time, I appreciate it as always! :)) DAEMYRA FOR THE WINNNNN MFSSSS 🔥🔥🔥!!!

Please, don't feel like I'm dismissing you, but I've already answered the question about the ridiculous claim that Daemon didn't love Rhaenyra and only used her to get the throne in this post and I don't feel like repeating myself all over again.

And that post you sent me only proofs that people don't understand the Rogue Prince and the Princess and the Queen at all. My god, only a complete moron can write something like that, exposing their own stupidity for the whole world to see.

Maesters were the ones who used young girls for their own gain. They were the ones who told Viserys it would be perfectly fine to rape Aemma when she was eleven. They were the ones killing women and unborn children left and right. Oldtown Triad has so much blood on their hands, they are the ultimate creeps in this story, they are the ones who should make your skin crawl.

Here you have my take on F&B being a crooked mirror of historical sources in our own world.

How can you read those books and don't notice that Oldtown with it's Citadel, Sept and Hightowers is a reference to Vatican, only worse? Worse because in ASOIAF they are going to the Sept during the day, preaching to other people of Westeros about how they should live their lives while being assholes themselves, and then at night they go back to play with their creepy, dark magic. I shit you not, they are like some frickin’ Illuminati of the Seven Kingdoms. Like, Jesus, did any of those idiots even do some reasearch on Hightowers? Those fuckers are fanatic zealots!

And they are responsible for writing Westeros' history! They are the ones who control all letters aka communication system in that world.

When you hear the word 'maester' you're not supposed to think about some poor, educated fellows who were suffering under their masters' ignorance. You are supposed to think about priests, who were keeping all of the ancient knowledge to themselves, whispering lies to their lords, poisoning their minds and their bodies, while trying to control them.

I've never seen a 'history book' as biased as Gyldayn's. This man is contradicting himself not even every second page, but sometimes every second sentance. Maesters murdered Aemma and Laena in cold blood, at the least. You want to be a defender of women, take it out on some creeps grooming children or old men causing trauma for little girls? Oldtown Triad is right there for you.

And they hated the Blacks with a burning passion.

So you know what? I'm standing over there in the corner with those Black guys.

Here is me ranting to poor @ladyalianora about maesters being suss.

//Not to mention: this whole grooming shit? The brothel visits? Daemon teaching Rhaenyra how to suck dicks? Daemon having a lover? Even Gyldayn doesn't have the audacity to say those rumors are true.

Makes you wonder why did he put Mushroom's nonsense in his 'academic' work at all, doesn't it? (Not that the other sources, them being a septon and yet another maester, are any better). And the real reason he did it, was so the people would come to the same, idiotic conclusions as the person who wrote that post above.

It's insane, isn't it, how easy it is to manipulate history, if you only use the right tools. It's almost like GRRM was trying to make a point with F&B other than telling a story about 'huehue, incest, dragons, big fight'.

So what am I saying? That some of those things didn't even happen in the first place?

Yeah, that's exactly what I'm trying to say.

It's almost like Daemon and Rhaenyra could've become close, fall in love even, after his return, without him teaching her how to fuck dwarfs 🤔🙄😯. It's almost like Hightowers accused him of grooming the Princess of Dragonstone in order to get rid of him for a second time 😮. By lying. You know? Just like they did it all those years before, by providing false witnesses and lying 😱😵. Or they simply had an affair and some Hightower spy told the King everything. Mind-blowing stuff, huh?

By this point I know I'm like a broken record BUT IF YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE THAT DAEMON HAD ROMANCE WITH NETTLES, THEN I CHOOSE TO BELIEVE ALICENT WAS RIDING JAEHAERYS' DICK. IT'S THE SAME FUCKING SOURCE!

Two more asks about this, and I swear to god, I'll put those words above my bed.