#Mass casually incident

[reasoningdaily]

BBC: Baltimore: 'Mass casualty event' as bridge hit by ship collapses into river

There are divers being dispatched In hopes of saving some of those who are trapped in their vehicles from the bridge collapse.

[critterbitter]

Anville town’s host to a train festival every half decade, where trains of all sorts are displayed to the masses. Not just your casual Unovan trains, but the ancient behemoths from as far as Kanto, lugged by a team of conkeldurr, lovingly dismantled and reassembled by klinklangs and rotoms.

Ingo and Emmet love it.

(The twins drag Elesa out to see the trains a full week before the official festival. They had prior experience being stuck in traffic and do not intend to repeat that incident.)

Elesa is referring to This Incident

Masterpost for more pokemon adventures!

[buttercupblu]

Satoru's Psyche|Surfacing

"Power dynamics, they're fluid."

Session 1 of 10|Next Session

🗂️Patient Chart Update: Routine patient visit and care performed. Patient is stable, mostly corporative, and only mildly rowdy today. Vitals are clear, appetite is normal, nothing of interest to report other than slightly abnormal behavior resulting in the [REDACTED] incident, pending Nurse deliberation on how to proceed with patient disciplinary action. 📋 Length of Session (w.c): 5.2k out of "we will cross that bridge when we get to it 🤠" 💊Intake Chart (tags): this is a full-blown AU with a slowww build-up, yandere-ish behavior, pet names, angst, compulsive flirter Gojo (he literally cannot help it), mentally unstable Gojo, Nurse!Reader ✏️doctor's angel’s note: there’s something very, very special about how this story was born. extended author’s note at the end of this chapter if you’re curious|kk I'm done talking - enjoy Satoru’s Psyche. 🎼 Waiting room music: Child's Play|SZA

They all worshipped the strongest. 

But no one saw the man; no one noticed the cracks until it was too late.

The first appeared after the Star Plasma Vessel mission—Gojo's near-death experience and first awakening. 

Then, it was his best friend, Suguru Geto. His betrayal, death. Murder. 

The blood on Gojo's hands left such a deep mark.

Devastation. Irreparable damage.

No matter what Gojo did after that, death followed him like a loyal dog. 

And when the final crack happened in the Prison Realm, with no distraction from his own thoughts and burdens and painstakingly harsh reality, Satoru Gojo bent..then snapped.

He can't remember what happened after being unsealed. 

All he knew was the blood that came afterward.

Apparently, he went on a rampage, but in his psyche, it didn't matter.

Nothing mattered.

And he didn't feel guilt—not in the slightest. 

They must have gotten what they deserved, right? 

The thoughts were deafening.

But Gojo’s natural tendency to play the hero was even louder and got the best of him. The realization of what he’d done was haunting—plaguing and persuading him like a Devil in his ear until he turned himself in to shut the voices the fuck up. 

Once again, good ruled over evil and the world was safe.

In Gojo's own sick and twisted way, he had once more saved the day.

And as a thank you? He's here, in a fucking straitjacket, seals all around to make his cursed energy dormant. At least, that's what those old fools believe…

Gojo can't help but scoff, recalling all their nonsense. 

“You're unstable. The mind needs to be healed.”

Blah fucking blah. What a load of bullshit. 

However, society never took too kindly to a little mass murder, so fine.

Gojo will play nice... for now.

And for the most unexpected reason why.

His grin only deepens, a borderline predatory look as he hears those familiar footsteps. 

Ah...how wonderful.

“There you are.”

The man waits by the door, shoulder framing your entrance and leaning on the wall. Welcoming, warm and expectantly, before the locks can disengage. 

Like many times before, your eyes meet through the window pane. A dull blue under snowy white lashes, heavy and following yours, but barely piercing the plastic—small and artificial—only a thin layer of careful separation, but you both see right through it. Neutrality on your face but wavering sharpness in your eyes. And a glint in his as the familiar buzz! ushers you into his world.

“How’s my favorite nurse?” he asks like a broken record. All casual-like, as if his arms aren’t meticulously tucked into tight restraints that work hard against his muscled frame. “Missed your favorite psychopath?”

He couldn’t sound more arrogant, but still has to smirk watching you brush past him—expecting nothing less—but feels a different air.

There’s a pep in your step, carrying you into the stark white room and making it impossible to miss the subtle sway of your hips and dangling supply bag on your arm. Naturally fluid as if you’re oblivious to its sensual nature.

Gojo rarely saw you wear any emotion on your sleeve, let alone what he thought was hints of joy, but something was slipping through the cracks.  

And what’s that? A slight grin on your face? 

What exactly do we have here?

This attitude is foreign. Better than the blank slate or frequent exhaustion you usually walk in with, but this was a side of you that was unfamiliar. 

What’s got you in such a mood, he wonders? And what else could it be, if not him? 

It’s all because today is an “okay day”. And in places like your ward, “okay” is as good as gold.

Rounds have been fairly simple in the usually chaotic hospital—a small win if you put things in perspective, but it’s enough for you to feel good about it. 

Hell, with the way things usually go around here, it feels like Christmas came early and you got just what you wanted. 

A big, whopping present called “all of your co-workers showing up to work”. The standard for most workplaces but here, such miracles only exist in your daydreams to get through your usually fucked schedule.

But not today. Today, the angels personally visited your ward to carry your burdens and lighten your load. For the first time in months, you didn’t groan the second you saw your patient roster for the day and instead had to do a doubletake because the list was surprisingly short. Only your regulars sat on it and that could only happen if the ward was fully-staffed.

You thought it was a mistake when you checked the schedule this morning, but no, everyone’s name sat prettily on the sign-in sheet at the front desk—a sight you hadn’t seen since orientation and was confirmed with every familiar and slightly foreign face you passed in the halls. 

There were no call-outs, no extra work, and the best part, no unexpected shift changes. 

Overtime would not get its hands on you today and the thought alone made you feel lighter because enough time is spent in these melancholy walls as is. 

With thoughts on the week’s end, you found yourself drifting through the day on autopilot. Wondering if you should make plans—doubtful you’ll see them through—and time seemed to be flying by with your thoughts. Following the rarely-seen routine you know like the back of your hand helped you blaze through the morning and grow closer to sweet rest for your already aching feet. 

Miracles were coming in left and right, proof that today just might be your day. It’s still early, but no one had broken out of their room or flung any property around yet. Guards sit comfy and reclined at their posts, lounging around more than they’re being called, and you haven’t even had to run off to the lockers to change your scrubs that are usually ruined by now. Luck is keeping you high and dry—free from accidents or patient tantrums, both of which are all too common. And always seem to have your name on them.

But the cherry on top, second to none, pièce de résistance.

Is a possibility.

Just the teeniest, tiniest, sliver of a chance…to walk out of these doors early. 

Be still your beating heart.

Early release?? Unheard of. You almost skipped through the halls thinking about it. Dreaming of the reclaimed time—the deliciously healthy heap of rest. 

With no signs of trouble, aside from forcing yourself to chug a wildly unhealthy energy drink to fight off tendrils of sleep, you just may be in the clear.

Things seem steady in the sleepy ward today. So sure, you’re in a relatively good mood. 

But is it good enough to deal with Gojo? 

It puzzles you, how he always knows you’re coming before he sees you. How he sort of announces your presence before you get the chance. Like the honor belongs to him.

The psychopath. 

Your head tilts at the diagnosis, hearing it come from his lips for the first time. Even if unseriously. 

He’s self-aware, at least. Not that the confession makes your visits any easier. 

Over time, after working so closely with a personality like Gojo’s, you’ve learned to take everything he says with a grain of salt. Especially when it comes from such shameless lips.

Answering his question with an eye-roll, you set your supplies down to pull out your clipboard and check his vitals. Something that once upon a time made your palms sweat and throat dry, but never showed on your face. You knew what the role required, what it would need for you to survive—intimidation and cowardice were not a part of it—and eventually, after you banged that into your head enough, even if you had to fake it til you made it, you became used to the routine.

As has Gojo, complying with each step on the checklist like it was second nature. Walking over to his favorite spot to be taken care of, the bed. Lifting his tongue to take his temperature. Offering his arm to check his blood pressure. Noting that his eyes aren’t bad today—not needing to wear his blindfold due to the security system. Doing it all without needing you to say a word. All within his control.

But the one thing he can’t get a grip on is how his heart begins to beat. Every time like clockwork the moment you lay a hand on his back to listen to it. Racing in his chest—thumping through your stethoscope—while he wears the calmest face. 

Curiosity called you after noticing it a few times once you determined it wasn’t a condition. Guaranteed to start up with the gentlest touch that he was surely used to. 

So, what exactly goes on in his mind in these moments? Despite hiding it so well? 

What could possibly be making Tokyo’s most unhinged, mass-murderer, so flustered? 

You never have much time to think about it because it won’t matter in the next few seconds anyway. Sitting still enough to get through vitals was as serious as Gojo gets, making the quickest part of your visits with him the easiest. 

Everything that follows the second you put your kit away is pure…surprise. 

“So…are you gonna undo the straps this time, sweet nurse? My arms are sore.”

He pouts. Sweetly. So devilishly charming. As he did so often with a flash of those cerulean, blue eyes that could make and break hearts.

You sigh. One could almost forget that by society’s standards, he’s a “dangerously unstable individual.” 

Something you’re acutely aware of. And trained for. Which is why you don’t mind the coquettish jabs he throws your way—and why he keeps on throwing them.

You aren’t aware but these hourly visits, along with his agreement to stay put, are the only reasons why he’s still here despite being Satoru fucking Gojo and simply walking out. It’s not like anyone could stop him if they really wanted to, and he knew that. 

Truth is—it pissed Gojo off, being stuck here. Cooperative. It was fucking irritating, to say the least. 

He’d rather be tortured than bored and might’ve second-guessed his decision to surrender if he knew the punishment would be…this. 

But lo and behold, here you are. Relief in the flesh while he bides his time. One that he wasn’t expecting.

“You sure are possessive today.” You hide a smirk, draping the stethoscope around your neck, his heartbeat returning to normal after losing your touch. “Am I really your favorite?” The leather straps hug his pale skin a bit tightly, but his mobility is good enough to ignore his request to loosen them. That would be suicide. 

He tsks, eyes sparkling at your words—a warning glimmer hidden beneath the icy gaze. 

Chilling. But the least bit surprising. 

Gojo and cattiness go together like love and war—and he wears it with his whole chest. 

Even when unprovoked, he’s known for being….testy. Trying his hand again and again until he gets some kind of reaction. Waiting to see what makes someone bite. 

But there was something disingenuous about this petty quirk. The repetition and how it seemed to lack a goal. How he seemed almost…desperate for interaction—attention—any attention.

Eventually, once you sat in his face long enough to learn how to disassociate with a straight face, you figured out that he just loves to hear himself talk. Like that one kid in class who’s always inserted themselves into every conversation and made it about them. 

He rarely gives you a hard time though—less than most of your other patients in fact—and usually sends more kisses than cuts. Occasionally, when you find them…okay, or tolerable enough, you indulge him and this charade between you two—like the high school crush it resembled. Strict. But harmless. 

And you’re only entertaining him now because he’s one of your last patients for the day. A fact not lost on him, but disregarded nonetheless. Even if you were just playing along, he knew there had to be more depth. All the masks in the world couldn’t hide that smile on your face.

His laugh breaks the tension. “I'm a yapper, not a liar...Am I yours?” He raises a brow. “You didn’t answer me earlier.”

His low tone carries an unspoken weight. Cryptic. Eerie. Needy. Almost calling you like a possession more frequently than ever.

It isn’t lost on you that his affections have blossomed as you’ve spent more time together. Visits are supposed to be 10, 15 minutes tops—collect vitals, serve meals, give meds, and avoid accidents. But Gojo? He drinks up your time. Going on 30, sometimes 45 minutes of routine maintenance and “extra care”. This wasn’t standard practice, but they didn’t tell you that, among other things when you accepted the position.

Every time you cross Gojo’s threshold, you’re reminded that you’re not actually supposed to be here. You’re just a nurse after all, not a therapist, and lacked the credentials to even begin to handle a patient like Gojo. But in the end, qualifications don’t matter when his staff has a famous history of running away. 

A fate shared by his previous nurse and therapist. Both fell victim to Gojo’s whimsical and relentless personality and suffered a mental breakdown from hell before quitting the ward. Capacity for hospitality completely shot, they nailed the coffin shut by ditching the healthcare industry altogether. 

And that was after only a few hours. 

In the beginning, you had absolutely no faith in yourself. Swore it was a sick joke as you couldn’t begin to fathom why they would even consider you for the job. 

You??

Gojo the Psycho’s nurse? It would’ve been easier to turn in your resignation right then to avoid living in hell.

You wondered how your life would change as you got to know the world’s most hated man. 

How long you would last—if he would let you. 

Anxiety and nausea gnawed at the back of your throat as time grew closer to meeting him. But eventually, after running the scenario in your head a million times over and trying to come up with some sort of plan or plea for your life, the day came, and you stood before the unpredictable man who looked like he saw right through you. 

Just the idea of being in Gojo’s presence is enough to let you know it’ll be unnerving. 

But the moment was…odd. 

Naturally, you wanted rely on book smarts and previous patient experiences to get you through what you knew would be a short and traumatic failed attempt at connection. But then you took a second to really look at Gojo, not study, but a kind of look that catches something…a conflict in his eyes—and instantly knew he was no ordinary patient. 

He was something you’d never met before, and any attempts to use a cookie-cutter facade would quickly be chewed up and spat out. 

So, you went with your gut—hoping to escape with some remnants of your sanity at least. 

Who knew you’d end up surprising not only yourself but also the Director and all the other staff in the ward who watched with held breaths? 

Gojo practically welcomed you with open arms. Flashing his pearly whites and dimples in a closed-eyed smile. You could hear a pin drop.

He didn’t bark, he didn’t bite. Only teased, feeding you sultry words with cunning lips until your face visibly flushed with blush. They didn’t warn you about charm. Debatibly the “worst” part about working with the blue-eyed lady-killer. Or that his devilishly handsome face would make you second-guess his sanity and guilt.

But you knew what this was. Or at least what it wasn’t and quickly put on blinders to every distraction he threw. Holding your breath the whole way through and surprising yourself every time you walked out his room. After your trial period had run for a few days with no mishaps—the opposite, really— you were promoted. And given a big, fat new check (certainly not for collateral). 

You didn’t know whether to breathe a sigh of relief or concern.

Congratulations! You were now in charge of Gojo’s physical AND mental health. 

Which meant longer, more thorough visits.

The idea was nerve-racking for weeks, to say the least. And because he has the nerve to be a karate-chopping ‘sorcerer’ or whatever it is that makes the man so dangerous, he needs careful safeguarding. Which means having his very own wing and accommodations in the ward. The only barriers between Gojo and doing whatever the hell he wants is one guard stationed near the entrance and some type of security system they can’t disclose to you. It’s supposed to suppress his abilities or something, you don’t quite understand itself yourself, but most importantly, it keeps him tame.

Still, choosing to grace his space almost daily always feels like tempting a snake. 

But somebody has to do it. 

And in a way, by his own means, offering a satisfied grin and all, Gojo had chosen you. 

Even in the confines of a cell, with seemingly nothing left to live for and no room for emotions, you, this wonder, have managed to catch his eye. In a way that made him want to sink his teeth in and soak up your attention. For reasons you couldn’t be more unsure of. 

“It would break my heart if it weren’t true,” he continues, sitting in the only chair in the room, “You’re my entertainment, you know? My doll to play with.”

You scoff, arms folding. The word doll echos in your ear like a chamber. That was a new one. 

“You sure talk a lot of game for someone in your situation.” 

“I love games.” He leans, eyes drinking in his favorite powdery blue scrubs that hug your frame in an all too professional manner. “Play with me, Nurse.”

Time belonged to Gojo, and he chooses to bide it with a little fun until release—or escape. His ever-changing mind hasn’t decided yet but it was far from a concern. Because the truth of this truce was painfully obvious. He knew he wouldn’t be here forever. And is quick to mention that he’d love to take you with him.

“If you can handle me.” He licks his lip. “Unless I’m too much for you.”

And there it is. That cool smile that sends shivers down spines. Irresistibly stirring your core every time he parts his lips. 

You hated it—no one could deny his charm or his intimidating presence. Even in chains, shackled and restrained, he maintains some kind of control: crumbling walls with his charisma, waving around his amorous, overassertive reputation like a big red flag.

But you’ve already proven to not be like the rest, easily swayed or reduced to puddles. Your wall is firm. Solid. He baits you time and time again—a smile here, a sinful gaze there—only to be met with dismissive yawns. Rousing something inside of him that deemed you a challenge. Something worth exploring. You were…difficult.

You’re the one who laughed this time, shaking your head and tucking a hair behind your ear. He oozes confidence from every fiber of his being—and bores you.

“Are you going to tell me what you’d like to lunch today or just keep bothering me?” 

And goddammit he has the audacity to grin. To tuck his lip under his teeth slow enough to make you catch it. 

Your insolence is adorable, yet maddening; a cocktail he drinks with delight before realizing how much he loves the taste. 

You were becoming really good at it, beating up his ego and turning a blind eye to his silly little flirts, but interest never faded from his gaze no matter how careless you seemed. Or were trying to. 

He tsks. “C’mon, Nurse. If I can’t have fun here, where can I? Besides,” Sunlight streams in from his barred window as if on cue. “You’re the only thing here worth talking about.”

Butterflies? Knots? Maybe both fill your stomach.

Neither can be good for you in a situation like this.

The dreamy words whisper sweet nothings into your ear, and stroke your ego with a delicate thumb. Soft and gentle—and from a shell of a man. 

A good turned evil. 

And you don’t have to look too far to remember how he got here—to remember why the enchanting man before you is dressed in heavy white restraints and public enemy number one. 

Guilt tugs at you for even joking around with him sometimes. You picture his victims. The lives forever changed. And how he didn’t seem sorry for it. 

Besides, even if Gojo wasn’t a basket-case, it’s hard to look past how childish he is anyway—something you heard has always been a part of him. Something you couldn’t imagine dealing with for too long, even casually. It certainly wasn’t your taste, and under different circumstances, you’d no sooner fall for him outside of these walls than you would now.

But above all of the boundaries, restrictions, and pep-talks you give yourself, is the simple fact that you aren’t the day-one nurse he once knew. Now, you have a backbone and don’t hesitate to remind him.

“You’re such a flirt, Patient Gojo.” You make sure to catch his eye when you say it, “But compliments only get you so far.”

Patient. 

It hangs in the air. Brisk and stale. A bit sour on the tip of your tongue. And acid in his ears.

With that, Gojo sits back, resting his cheek on a propped-up arm, gaze long and longing. Breathing slow as he thinks and nerves buzz between you two. Then his request comes, simple and direct.

“How about sushi? Raw and fresh.” And a psych ward delicacy.

He’s the only patient in the entire facility with such privilege—envy-worthy and used to his heart’s content. With full-scale unlimited access to all the gourmet treats and fine dining he could ever want, his meals are often better than the ones you bring to work. Gojo is above common hospital dishes, of course, and his indulgent appetite would accept nothing less. 

But it wasn’t just about the food, no, negotiating that was too easy and barely worth mentioning.

This is a conveniently constant reminder that he is still capable of influencing things and making decisions with ease, from those he’s allowed to have access to him, down to his choice of meal.

It intrigues you. How he subdues himself to the masses but finds meaning in smaller wins. What he finds significant.

But none of that mattered right now, you’d finally been given an order and another win, even if it felt like pulling teeth. For now, it’s time to feed him and let him believe whatever he wants.

You pick up his tray from this morning, scanning the room to make sure no cutlery or dishes are missing. “Sushi it is,” you wink and call to be let out.

None of his staff are allowed the room key as a preventative measure to keep his chances of escaping to a minimum. As if a door would stop him but a key does exist and you’ve only seen it on the day the Director introduced you two, and it looked nothing like the keys used for other rooms. 

When you come back with lunch, Gojo grows curious. Noticing how your body has relaxed over time, getting used to his presence every time you come in. Little nuisances like how you breathe a little easier in his space and sometimes smile with your eyes when he tells a stupid joke. The air is…changing. He wonders just how comfortable have you gotten?

“Finally back? I started to miss you.” It’s light but he can’t possibly resist testing the waters. “Would you like to eat with me, pet?” And it takes everything in you to suppress a visceral reaction.

He’s on a roll with the names today and you wonder what his affections might have been like in his life before. Sure, he’s a talker and a flirt, that much is obvious, but you wonder what his actual love was like? How did he show it if he ever got to? And if so, if he ever left anybody behind?

“You know the procedure, Gojo.” You wait with the tray in hand, brushing the thoughts away. Though the temptation savor what you knew would be premium cuisine begs you to do it, you know better than to start breaking boundaries now.

He deflates, brows furrowing. “Is it…really so necessary?” He knows the answer, of course.

You gesture for him to turn around but he holds your gaze, having a little stare down like he enjoys the silent confrontation. You raise an annoyed brow. “The food’s getting cold,” and tap the tray.

“It’s sushi.”

 You huff.

He smirks before finally facing the wall, stilling his body in the tight jacket. When you’re sure he won't move, you set his food to the side and slowly approach to attach him to the latch on the wall. 

Skilled fingers reach across his waist and you have to crouch a little to glide the heavy chain towards the loop at his hip. His skin flushes at your warmth, your proximity, as he can’t help but enjoy the intimacy of the routine power shift. Even if it was a sham, it was still one he reluctantly agreed to. To play nice. To be weak. 

But this exchange, giving himself over to your authority, was oddly invigorating—like placing himself in his victim’s shoes to get a minuscule taste of his own medicine.

“Well, don’t look so happy about it,” he chuckles. Relief finds your face as you gently tug on the chain to make sure it’s secure, amusing the man towering over you.

The thoroughness is cute, all a part of a job well done and strict boundaries that drive a heavy wedge between you two. But it doesn’t bother Gojo. Because he’s certain, he knows, that your guarded walls will crumble sooner than later. All it takes is patience.

“Remember, Nurse,” he doesn’t turn around, “Power dynamics….they’re fluid.” 

And you can almost hear the wink—the implied warning living on his slick tongue that pokes and prods with every interaction and sends heat to your rosy cheeks. 

“You have a way with words, Gojo.” Again your eyes roll as you reach for the key to his restraints. The shackles fall to the ground, shrilling in the mostly empty room to allow him to feed himself.

A mix of groans and relief escapes his lips as he relishes the freedom from the stiff leather. He sighs, “Thank you, Nurse.” and rubs his tender wrists before abruptly filling your space. Nearly knocking you off your feet, but stopping just shy of your face. The monstrous chains strain against the wall, playing tug of war with the beast of a man and the florescent lights cast a spotlight on the sudden distance between you two. 

You had never been this close. 

“But don’t forget, I can turn these roles around. Anytime.”

Twinkles play in his eyes, dazzling you with a shine so bright you can see your reflection. But you also see the unhinged nature behind them just as easily as he sees the quiver of your lip feeling his breath graze the curve of your neck and raise goosebumps on your skin.

This isn’t just idle banter. It’s a stark reminder of Gojo’s capabilities that you had grown comfortable enough to forget. That you thought maybe you had become the exception to. 

As he steps back and leans against the wall he could’ve torn down, there’s an unmistakable silence filling with tension. Hot and sharp like pins and needles. But instead of pushing you to run for the hills, to quit while you’re ahead and savor what’s left of the life you know, for once, your unrelenting mind dares to wonder where this twisted ballet will go.  

It kills you to admit that their is something interesting about cat-and-mouse game he thinks you’re playing. Just as his affections have grown, your thoughts push you to imagine what could happen if you were actually…caught..

It’s idiotic, you know. You don’t need a sign telling you not to play with your life.

This is Satoru fucking Gojo, for Godsake. The murderer. The villain. A literal stain on the face of humanity. 

Forget about what he may have been before. You never saw that Gojo, and he’ll never be seen again. 

Your motto has always been that everyone is redeemable—but these types, Gojo’s type, are so beyond saving that it feels more like babysitting than redeeming a mentally unstable murderous toddler who could destroy a city in seconds.

Even for a man who speaks so carelessly, but teases a sugary-sweet tongue, it’s easy to see how and why he ended up here. Life had made him an example.

Proving that too much of a good thing will always spoil.

And as you watch him turn a wink and begin to casually snack on his meal, completely unconcerned with you or your reaction or response, it’s plain to see that his “affections” spare no one. Not even you. 

You clear your throat and steady a breath. With the lightest voice you can muster, you remind him, “Empty threats are the best you can do, patient.” And turn to leave.

“I’ll be back later for your bath. Or maybe send someone else. Since you’re so excitable today.”  

He pauses. “Oh?”

Is that a challenge?

His laugh echoes around the room like something out of a cartoon, fading away just as quickly as it came. He leans back, hair blending into the wall as he licks bits of rice off his thumbs—gaze sharp despite the jest. 

Because the stakes are clear and you’re both aware. 

But in case you don’t know the consequences he asks, “Do I seem threatened to you?” 

You shift your weight. If Gojo is anything, he’s always playful. The man does not have a serious bone in his body, which makes him damn near intolerable sometimes, but it’s something you’re used to it. But not this tone. This tone has rocks in it, hard and heavy as he calls your bluff. 

“Because my threats—,” he continues eating, “—are never empty.” He pops the last roll into his mouth. “You sure you wanna do this?” 

There’s no denying the chill running up your spine at those words—playing out like casual banter over lunch instead of the battle royale it was.

As if the question were rhetorical, he adds, “Okay but like,” and coughs up another laugh, as if finding the entire idea ridiculous. “Who’d be dumb enough to replace you?”

To feed or not to feed? Now was a chance to bail out.

“Don’t worry about that.” And you don’t as you call to the guard, hoping to catch your break on time. “Just behave yourself.” Gojo would keep you here playing 20 questions all day if he could.    

A bemused smile settles on his face and he shakes his head at your antics. 

You were becoming increasingly enjoyable to interact with. And steadily digging yourself into a hole. You’ve been sitting front-row to the darkness within him enough times to be sure it is, in fact, very real, but still it’s impossible to ignore that there’s something driving you to pick up the shovel. 

It isn’t just his pretty face and boyish charm. No.

It’s like he wants to get under your skin. In the best way.

Yeahhhh, this death wish is turning you every way but loose.

It’s silly, so stupid to even think about. Giving Gojo a smidge of an inch just because you feel there may be something more. Like there’s depth to his pretty words and clashing ways. Who's to say any of it is “real” anyway? He is insane after all. 

Your mind and the door shut behind you, and you turn to peer at him through the small window. A mischievous yet bored look rests on his face. 

You think you actually will send someone else. Just to show him what happens when he crosses the line. To reinforce business and boundaries. 

You could also use a break yourself—Gojo is starting to feel… claustrophobic these days and if you aren’t careful who knows what could happen. 

“Choose wisely,” came his voice from within the room,. “Every move you make counts. And cheating has consequences.” Footsteps approach the door. “You may think tagging out is all it takes to avoid our game, but let me tell you something…” He stops. “...you underestimate how quickly I can escape confinement before I’m noticed.”

And suddenly, this isn’t just a game anymore. And Gojo isn’t just some harmless tease.

Your throat is too tight to swallow and you fidget with your lanyard as if responding to his words. 

Of course, he’s capable of breaking free. That’s not what’s worrying. But if it was because of you poking the bear, you trying to get on even ground with him and have the upper hand, would you be responsible if he did?

“No matter where they send you or who they send instead—” And Gojo’s comment makes it crystal clear. 

“—I promise you, you’ll end up right back here.”

extended angel's note: first and foremost, just to give credit where credit is due, this is a chatbot i turned into a short story🧍🏾‍♀️. it was actually my first time dicking around with janitor a.i. back in like...april? and i came across this gojo bot with a suuuuper interesting prompt. [all of the prompt idea and calibration credit goes to the original creator.] i didn’t decide to actually get serious and start creating a story until around the end of part 2 - i realized i was having too much fun and was in too deep 🙇🏾‍♀️. SO after my decision to indulge madness, i didn't want to run up 10000 messages on janitor a.i. and decided to create the rest of the story on my own from there.  everything after the prompt are my own words and i've had to weave every last bit of part 1 and 2 into a coherent story but everything afterwards is all me.

you can find the chatbot and play around with it yourself here but i strongly recomment doing so after finishing this short - think of it as a choose your own adventure afterwards in case you want my head on a stick after the ending 🤠.

tags list p.1: @reddiamondjazz @blkkizzat @kiwismoother @rune1920 @suguwife

@xerroe @enthyn @gloomuri671 @startatdawn @heijihatsutori

@inluvkai @ixqiix @strawnanamilk @rosso-seta @05-simply-06-simping

@sims-4lifers @bratidol @hyunsuks-beanie @luna-v-roiya @neteyamsluvr111

@supsiii @natadecoco30 @chiyokoemilia @ririoutspoken @kyoxko

@strawberrymilkshakes-posts @nen-nyy @cinnamorochiroll @kazeniya @maybe7tommorow

[angxlofvenus]

hi, hi, hi! could I request the brothers + diavolo during a meeting together when their s/o (the mc) starts to doze off and then suddenly faint? Turns out, the MC forgot to drink water that day-

That happened to mr a few days ago, it wasn't fun - so here's a reminder for you to drink some water too :')

Thank you so much for the request!!! I am so so sorry to hear that happened, I hope you're doing better <3 If anything in this post seems insensitive please let me know! Have a wonderful rest of your day/night

Genre: Mostly fluff, Some Hurt/Comfort Ship: Demon Brother+Diavolo x reader (individual) TW: Minimal cussing, mentions of fainting, mass panic, yelling, second person pov for reader (If I missed anything please tell me!!)

When You Faint

You watched as the clock slowly ticked by the minutes as the Demons around you spoke amongst themselves, Your talking had slowly come to a stop as the room started to spin, Some of the men looked at you strangely but nobody expected you to fall out of your chair and onto the council room floor...

Lucifer

He's immediately up out of his chair

Oh lord, he’s now fully in mother mode-

Barking orders at everyone, Yes this includes Dia

As soon as he gets over to you his wings are out, shielding you from everyone else

Once you come to, He isn’t letting you out of his sight

And once he finds out you fainted because of dehydration? 

He would so buy you one of those big ass waterbottles 

One of these mfs

Mammon

Freaking out pt. 1

Definitely hootin’ and hollering

He is indeed making a scene

Won’t really be on you until after you wake up because he knows Lucifer and Diavolo can do more for you then he can

After you have awoken though? He isn’t letting you out of his sight

You don’t have to worry about remembering to drink water, He’s there to remind you now!

Humans are such fragile creatures and now that he's seen that firsthand, He will barely let you do anything

He will make sure you are healthy whether you like it or not dammit

Levi

Freaks out pt. 2

Somehow freaking out even more then Mammon

He doesn’t know what to do! He leaves his room one time and this is what happens!

Will kind of just stand there in shock as everyone erupts into chaos

He isn’t the best example of someone who looks after their body lets be honest

But when ya’ll are gaming You’ll start to see some more healthy options popping up in the mix of chips and soda

He will beat himself up over not noticing, Please comfort this man before he decides you resent him

He won’t ever really bring it up but rest assured, It will never happen again

Satan

Would also run to your aid

He has read a lot of medical books in his time, He knows what to do

Would take you to a doctor afterwards, just in case

Kind of beats himself up for being unaware of your condition

I don’t think he’d freak out as badly after the incident, He knows it was probably a one time thing

Will bring up in conversation casually if you’ve eaten and drank water today, just to be sure

Asmo

Screams

Freaks out pt. 3

Yelling at Lucifer/Satan to do something!

Will be all over you as soon as you’re awake

Don’t scare him like that! 

Will get extra pouty when he learns why you passed out

Has Ya’lls self-care sessions meant nothing to you?!

No more of that, not on his watch

He will offer you water at random times throughout the day

Studying? Water! Watching Tv? Water! Sleeping? Water! no, no, Beauty sleep is important

Beel

Doesn’t knows what's happening, Why are you on the floor?

Will stand on the sidelines concerningly as he watches Lucifer take over, He trusts his brother to help you

Will also feel immense guilt he didn’t see the signs, He just wants to keep everyone safe 🙁

When he thinks Ya’ll are doing something too straining for a human, He’ll stop to ask if you’re okay/ need a break

Will start carrying around a water bottle specifically for you 

Belphie

He totally wasn’t sleeping when it happened, nope

Woke up to his brothers and the Prince of the Devildom freaking out around you

I don’t think he’d really get too involved with helping since he doesn’t actually know wtf just happened

If you don’t immediately perk back up, He’s gonna cuss out Lucifer and maybe try to fight him

Gets a little snappy at everyone (except you ofc) after the incident

He even started to set alarms on your DDD as reminders to drink water

Will tease you just a teeny bit, But you can tell how worried the entire thing actually makes him

Diavolo

Was over to you in record time

Commands everyone to step back from you while he calls Barbatos and a royal doctor

You will be given the best treatment don't worry

He thinks he's being very sneaky about making you drink more water He is so obvious about it, it hurts

You will definitely notice how Barbatos now almost immediately refills your glass as soon as it’s half full

Another one to openly ask if you’ve drank enough water that day

[balrogballs]

Finding Celebrían

For Tolkien Meta Week — an essay on autofiction, archives, healing, and why I moved across the country after finding out Elrond Peredhel had a wife. Being an essayist irl, believe me when I say I was thrilled to see @silmarillionwritersguild have the personal essay form as a format for Tolkien Meta Week! Here's something from the heart - warning for discussion of cPTSD and (non explicit) references to violence.

When I first found Celebrían in a footnote, I wrapped up warm and followed, certain she'd lead me to where she truly lived in the text.

By that point, it had been a good decade or so since I first read Tolkien – I had been aware that Elrond had a wife, and assumed she was dead or hung up in some other cold meat locker alongside a procession of wives spanning literary history.

It was only years later that I properly came across her, and blinked, realising she was a cursory line which led to a footnote in Appendix A of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, one which referred to her torment in passing, meant to explain why the sons of Elrond and to an extent Elrond himself, were the way they were. 

Fridging was one thing, but torment was another entirely, I thought — and so casually! Tea and torment in the Third Age, tra-la-lally traumatised into "losing all joy" in Middle-Earth and leaving the year after, taking ship to Valinor and leaving behind a grieving family. It was simple curiosity, really, until it turned into a cold, familiar grasp: the clear-cut knowledge of exactly what sort of torment it would have been, that drove away the wife of a noble lord living in what was very clearly described as being one of the last great sanctuaries in a ravaged realm. 

But to understand why The Footnote stopped me in my tracks, I need to tell you about The Fields. 

When I speak of The Fields (which are of course not really fields and neither are they called The Fields anywhere but here), I refer to one of the most beautiful spots in the country. The Fields combined the peaceful pastoral with quaint urban charm, rustic without being remote, safe without being detached. I lived in The Fields for several years, and made a little life for myself that grew into something bigger. 

I had been an activist in The Fields — moved from scrappy student to card-carrying revolutionary — and I did it because I loved where I lived very, very much, enough to think I could kiss it better. And I was good, I was! I belonged on the stage in that sense, I was invited to panel after panel, talk after talk, and I stood on little podiums that grew alongside me. I knew how to carry myself, present myself, leveraged my palatability and conventionality in return for rights and bare-minimum environmental reparations. 

Such wonders, of course, came with a cost I hadn’t foreseen — an incident, a couple really, that tossed a diagnosis of cPTSD into my lap and turned my lovely home into The Fields. And because I had been so good at presenting myself and clambering on podiums with shiny hair, the incidents became the talk of the town, and I in turn very quickly became a subject, the walking, talking cost of resistance. 

A feature of cPTSD, one that sets it apart from PTSD, is the overarching dullness with which the emotional flashbacks grasp you. Not like being plucked off the surface of the earth by a monstrous thing, but rather drowning quietly in sludge you never realised was beneath your feet in the first place. There was never a thing that terrified me about The Fields, it was only ever a quiet, creeping mass taking over everything, and in being so — easy to ignore and disguise. 

I love The Fields, I told myself, even after. I loved The Fields, even though life had turned into air and static, and I had turned into an unfeeling thing. I lived in the middle of that little city but felt as though I was in a small hut on no-man's land, or a joint security area, suspended between towers. I couldn't stand the wonderful hills and valleys, so I tried my hardest to cling onto the reasons I loved them, tried to medicate them back into my heart with the forcefulness of a pacemaker. I shoved things down throats and up noses, walked back onto all those stages, turned myself into an electric hearse chasing a long-dead dragon. I would walk around The Fields on some nights, very cold and very young, the bleached bones left behind by something very promising. 

Can you see why I stopped still at Appendix A, at Celebrían? I tried to follow her, and see where her story began, and what wonders it would end in, because if Celebrían's story ended in wonder then maybe, there might be a chance, perhaps….. 

It would be easy, I thought, I was a writer, a journalist, a researcher - I trained in asking questions and knowing things, even sticky, stunted, back-of-the-throat things that you'd rather not catch sight of in a mirror. The History of Middle Earth book sets were ordered, fresh copies of all the old texts, magnifying glasses held over Unfinished Tales. 

I’d been so certain I would find her. That Celebrían would ramble across page after page, legs dangling over the edge and an indolent expression fizzing on her face. She would be stubborn and glorious and righteous in her fervor to change the world. I would find her in the flesh, and then no longer would I stand in The Fields each night, hollow-eyed, self-haunting spectre holding myself thrall to a single series of events in what has been, objectively, a lovely, loving life.

But a full month went by, and all I found was footnote after endnote after cursory mention, almost all of them clothing her in torment, growing stiff and sharp against the tooth of the page: vicious, like a blade angled backwards. For Celebrían and I, the richest text in the world turned into a landscape of loss. 

What a wonderful, rich, textured world you have!

All the better to swallow you whole, my dear. 

I couldn't find her in the story. I spent weeks and weeks on her, and I couldn't find her in the story and by then I had already fancied myself and Celebrían to be counterparts, like if she laughed, I would laugh too, like if she ran, then I would run too, and if she was lost, then… well. I suppose it shows the power of an enduring text. I had a PhD, at that point I had just gotten my publishing deal through, I'd spoken on all those podiums and done all those real-world, adult things, and still I was not immune to the indulgent tether of a good old self-insert. And then it turned out we were not counterparts but rather more akin to co-morbidities, that The Footnote and its friends were all I would ever know of Celebrían. 

It was summer, I remember, but my hands were cold — autopsy-fingers, my partner called them. Archive-fingers, autopsy-fingers, scrabbling around to find nothing, no indication as to how Celebrían's story truly ended and why I was the person I was. The texts shifted uneasily under my hands, like the Professor himself was turning out his pockets and shrugging, reminding me that it was neither Celebrían's nor my story, not really. Pointed me back to The Footnote like it was a pacifier, and still I turned in circles like a dog chasing its tail, looking for other instances of her name. I found nothing. I began to fear that I had wasted my life.

The Footnote started to blur across weeks, and soon it turned itself into My Footnote. The one I had found, a year or so before the hunt, in a fantastic, recently published book that spoke about activism in The Fields, where I came face to face with myself. But there, I hadn't been standing on a podium or being interviewed or writing pressure pieces or anything I had really, truly done, but I was instead a single footnote — condensed into the things that had happened to me, as opposed to the things I had made happen. As the months went on, I looked for references to myself in new books, newspapers, magazines — and I would find myself, but in the same scrap of footnote, wearing the same costume of torment, tragic poster children of a violent world. 

I sat there looking at the thousands and thousands of pages in the legendarium, the stack of books on things I had worked upon, statutes I had pulled down and little laws I had changed. And then at the scraps of Celebrían and I, reduced to scribbles and crossing outs in the margins. It was like we never lived at all. It seems a rather childish reaction, perhaps, to not finding the story you want in a book you bought. Still, that afternoon, when I put down the last page of HoME I had access to, I crawled into bed and stayed there for a very long time, trying very hard to not touch even the bedclothes around me.

But I think that was always what drew me to her, that absence. I didn't find myself in Celebrían, but in the footnote that gestured to her presence. It wasn't that I understood her so much as I knew how to decrypt the desperate scratches left behind by someone who drowned on dry land. That was how she and I were truly alike: people who wanted to change the world, or a little part of it, and did, did something good — and had all of it forgotten, crammed into a footnote read with a tender, pitying fret. 

But that's not canonical, is it? Yes, her absence shaped the story of the Ring War in certain regards. But who said Celebrían, Celebrían the Person, not Celebrían the Footnote — had ever changed anything, let alone the world in which she lived?

Simple – I did.

My Celebrían was a complete nutcase. I wrote her as a daughter born to a borderline-squirrel of a wood elf, who herself hated small creatures with a passion. I had her take off her shoe and beat earwigs to death, had her talk the ear off a perpetually grieving mother, irritate a kinslayer into planting a pine forest, and threaten the High King with a shovel. She would shove cotton in her ears to block out her husband's snoring, and put four teaspoons of sugar in her tea. She bribed her sons to dispose of a snake, and demanded magical healing for a little scrape on her forehead. 

I cut her into familiar shapes: the shape of someone who spent months unable to bear the slightest touch, whose loved one slept on the floor beside the bed, clinging to a listless hand dangled off the side. The shape of a small house in a forest, and the shape of a wonderful ending, in which she truly did change the world in all the ways she could. I don't know, if I'm being honest, whether Celebrían changed me, or if I changed her. Whether change was an instant or a process, whether this version of almost-Celebrían mattered to anyone but myself. I knew one thing though — my Celebrían is a thousand footnotes long, and counting. 

Footnotes, like most things in the archive, are of course caging things: keeping unpalatable violence in the past, or at least elsewhere, keeping the here and now good and quiet. It's easier to outsource healing and rediscovery to other places, to archives and museums and books and Valinor. Was being a footnote a punishment? What’s worse, being pickled wrongly or never being pickled at all? Was this yet another installment of the cautionary tale stretching all the way through time and reality from Celebrían to me; footnotes about women who held themselves thrall to the memory of violence, who lived as well as they could, till they couldn’t? Would it have been better if she never existed at all?

I don't know. All I know for certain is this: at some point between finding Celebrían and writing her, I moved out of The Fields and across the country.

It had been a long time coming. But for years, I had thought I would weather living in The Fields because even after the Torment, the Footnote, the Diagnosis, I never felt a disconnect from the place, because I was still extroverted and irritating and fizzing with the desire to stay in the Fields and love it, as I had always done. And then suddenly, I wanted to run.

It wasn't as if Celebrían burned The Fields down, leaving me there to watch flames eating its flat, starless sky. But what she did was this: carefully take off my rose-tinted glasses, and say run —- this earth has swallowed you whole. 

I had assumed it was my fault, my attachment to The Fields, that I was looking at things wrong, that I was maintaining unhealthy attachments to sites of trauma, prioritising the wrong perspectives, the body keeps an atlas and all that. But Celebrían did not call me crazy. Celebrían was not the kind of person who would ever call you crazy. She was the kind of person who would lay in a wide-open field beside you and ask you what you were looking at. 

And when you say "oh, just up at the big sky", she wouldn't probe. She would know exactly what you mean when you didn't say "-- because there is nothing ahead of me", and she wouldn't say a word about how the ground around you was soft with decay, reeking like a corpse, that you were caught in the straggling grass of its hair. 

She would instead shrug, wink, and point you towards Gollum, because of course she would. She would tell you that Tolkien, ever the Catholic, had drawn out a perfect depiction of what might have happened if Lazarus was left in that cave. And then she would say, run, for god's sake, girl, run, and you would. I did!

How stubbornly we all cling to the idea of staying fixed until being fixed, to the idea of a ready-made Valinor to sail to if we do well enough at life, stay still enough in the margins! How faithfully we believe that if you spend enough time being a very, very good cracked vessel, maybe one day you might feel the quiet triumph of bearing water again. Celebrían, not the Celebrían of The Footnote but my Cel, the manic pixie freakshow of Imladris, said shut the fuck up and run. That it was no use hungering for the impossible and thumbing listlessly though footnotes, and to instead run, and run, and start digging a garden at the ground you come to a stop at because it is only in new soil that something gentle could unfold unbidden. That as time passes, you will belong less and less to the ground you left behind and more and more to the ground you walk upon, to the new trees and new hills around you, to those who love you still.

Run! she said. How alive you looked, hunting for me. How badly you craved my story. See? There are still stories you crave. You are still human enough to crave. Run! 

I think many of us who love this brief, inexorable footnote of a Celebrían, whether we read her or write her, are bound by a similar truth: that in her we caught sight of something within ourselves. All around the world, these tiny, unflinching mirrors in Appendix A and the rest, tie together and create a hundred different Celebríans, all part of the same thread, each version carrying its own burden, though rarely do we ever acknowledge it in each other. It's a quiet nod, an unspoken connection, a reminder that we are all more alike and less alone than a cursory footnote might imply.

To find Celebrían, I had to write her. And in turn, she wrote me in her image. I look at her now, as she is in my head, and there Celebrían is neither alive nor dead. No, what is most clear in my mind is a girl in a dusty wing mirror, a life packed into boxes, sunglasses sliding down her nose. One hand sandwiched in an ordnance map, prying the pages open, hurtling at a perfectly legal speed down an M-road, The Fields growing smaller, and smaller, and smaller in the rearview mirror. Not gone, not truly, but invisible to the naked eye, unless you know exactly where to look. A grain of sand in a bucket of water, a single, sad-looking fish half-buried on a tropical beach. A finger to the past, a wave from a window, a footnote in an appendix. 

[devourable]

☾ the monster

sfw | tws : teratophilia, yandere behavior/thoughts, kidnapping?

yandere monster x gn reader! only pronoun for reader used is 'you'

the last of my male yanderes from the poll,, finally <3 tysm to my friend for helping me w this :,) this one goes out to all my monster lovers out there (aka me). his name isn't used in this fic but hes named mykolas!

also!! after this fic i'll be going on a short hiatus! i have to work a lot this week and won't have time/energy to write or draw. but i will still respond to messages and will answer asks when i return (or during the down time i do have if i can). i'll see you all soon! <3

the beast was lonely. he always had been, and figured he always would be.

he learned long ago that he wasn't something that people cared for. every attempt to interact with civilization was met with fear and vitriol, harsh reminders that he wasn't allowed to enjoy the company of others. every strange happening, every fool that went missing, every incident that the townsfolk couldn't explain was always blamed on him.

even the sign outside of his forest said it ; "keep away! the beast of rochshire wood lurks!". no one would dare to step foot in his domain.

so the day he discovered you in his woods, things changed.

what were you doing there, he wondered? you looked so content, so unafraid to be in his forest as you traveled from bush to bush, picking berries and uprooting a few edible plants to tuck them away in the basket you were carrying. did you not see the signs? weren’t you afraid?

despite his questions about your presence there, something drew the beast to you. he didn't feel the urge to hide himself away like he usually would when a human stumbled into his home. you… he felt you were different. you must’ve been unlike the others if you could just come along so casually like this.

the foliage he stood in rustled as he slowly approached you. somehow, you didn’t notice or feel his eyes on you despite how intensely he was observing you and continued with your activities at first. it wasn't until a stick loudly snapped under his step thay your head snapped in his direction.

your eyes widened as you locked them with the glowing white gaze of the hulking beast before you. he was massive! so big that the large antlers atop his head brushed against the branches above him. and the pitch black fur that the... thing was covered in did nothing but make it almost seem like an amorphous mass of muscle. he was unlike anything you'd ever seen before.

you wanted to be scared. you wanted to scream and run away, get out of the forest and return to the safety of your home. the rumors, the signs — they were all true! they weren't a joke like you assumed! but despite your brain screaming at you to get out of there, you just didn't. you were frozen in place, unable to move or even react as the creature slowly leaned down to you and...

sniffed you?

the strange chuffing sound caught you off guard, baffling you out of your frozen state. you blinked a few times and realized — it was definitely sniffing you. and it pulled away right after, taking a step or two back.

the monster was so desperate to not look like a threat to you. you were so lovely, you seemed so sweet, and you smelled nice! he didn't want to scare you away! with a sort of chirping noise, he laid his head to the ground in a bid to show you that he was harmless.

curiosity got the better of you. possibly against your better judgement, you took a step toward the beast. he lifted his head slightly as you slowly pressed your hand to what you could only assume was the creature's forehead. and sure enough, this earned a small trill from him.

you couldn't help the small laugh falling from your lips, which promptly got his massive tail wagging. you weren't scared! you were touching him! and it wasn't to hurt him! his heart was pounding so much that he practically vibrated with excitement. he sat back — unintentionally startling you, but thankfully not driving you away.

you tilted your head, slowly, to the left. the creature did the same, its massive antlers brushing against the branches over its head. you tilted your head to the right, and it followed suit. you raised a hand and sheepishly waved to the creature, and to your surprise, it waved back!

that was all he need to fall completely head over heels for you.

you were oblivious to his adoration for you, but you definitely weren't hating your time with him. he wasn't nearly as bad as the village made him out to be! so you didn't notice the time flying by as the monster herded you deeper into the forest (away from the way out), guiding you to the bushes with the best berries and the biggest patches of edible foliage. he seemed so happy to have company, it was so easy to convince yourself to stay longer.

every time you tried to go into a direction he didn't want you going in, he'd pick you up and set you back down in the way he wanted you to go. and you let him. you didn't have very much of a choice in the matter, but it was okay! so what if the sun was starting to set? he was filling your basket — you wouldn't have to shop for days after this. and every time you made even the slightest suggestion of having to go, he gave you those big, glowing puppy eyes that you just couldn't disappoint.

just a few more minutes and you'd leave, you told yourself. you said it even after your basket and pockets were well beyond their capacity. you said it when the shadows started growing and the sky grew even darker. you said it until the moon was overhead, and the path out of the forest was too obscured for you to find it again...

when you looked at the beast again, he offered you his hand. and again, possibly against your better judgement, you took it.

it was dangerous to be alone in the forest, didn't you know? but there was nothing to worry about. the monster would make sure nothing — no one — took you from the safety of his presence.

you weren't safe anywhere that wasn't by his side.

please reblog to support me!

[obsessivevoidkitten]

I don't bring up politics and world events up on here very much, that isn't what this blog is about. This blog is for escapism from reality, but those who are not willing to speak out against brutality are complicit. And this is my largest platform.

Don't continue reading if you don't want to read about war and violence.

Regarding Israel and Palestine I have seen many inaccurate assumptions and outright lies.

1ST CLAIM: One claim I hear ad nauseum is that Gaza elected Hamas and therefore they deserve punishment.

Let's break this down.

A. Hamas was elected around 2006. 17 years ago. They have not allowed elections since.

B. Roughly half of the Gazan population are under 18. This means half the population wasn't born during the last election. This means that of the Gazans who were alive many were too young to vote.

C. Hamas won by a 45 percent plurality, not a majority. This means that less than half of the Gazan who did vote did so for Hamas.

So taking these facts together we can conclude that only a fraction of a fraction of Gazans alive today elected Hamas.

In fact Netanyahu was happy to fund and prop up Hamas because doing so meant dividing Palestinians between the Palestinian Authority in the West Bank and Hamas in Gaza. So Netanyahu is more to blame for Hamas than Palestinians are.

2ND CLAIM: Another thing I hear a lot is that this conflict and all of the casualties are the fault of Hamas. Let me be clear, I do not support Hamas or the October 7th attack that ended up with a civilian casualty rate of around 50 percent, but that one attack doesn't exist alone or without context and nuance as many on the pro-Israel side would have people believe.

No, that attack was one incident in a line of many. Starting with the brutal apartheid, displacement, and ethnic cleansing of Palestinians by Israel.

A slow motion genocide taking place over the course of many decades.

Let's look at some events leading up to and then following Oct. 7th.

It starts with the beginning of Israel. Even the often recited phrase "a land without people for a people without land" erases the existence of native people who had lived there for centuries.

In 1948 you have The Nakba. A mass displacement of Palestinians as Israel took their land. This flew in the face of the UN partition plan, after The Nakba Israel controlled 78 percent of the land, 25 percent more than the UN plan.

This trend of land theft has only continued.

Let's fast forward to more recent events.

2018-2019 The Great March of Return: For over a year there were peaceful marches protesting the Gaza border, this resulted in Israeli forces killing over 220 peaceful Palestinian protesters.

In 2019 Netanyahu admitted support for Hamas to prevent a 2 state solution.

In 2022 journalist Shireen Abu Akleh was targeted and killed by Israeli forces. Israeli forces also attacked her funeral.

Note that during this entire time Palestinians are arrested, even children, and kept in indefinite detention without trial.

In 2023 we then have the October 7th attack. But as you are now aware this isn't where the conflict started.

And clearly not where it has ended.

3RD CLAIM: And that brings us to the 3rd and most blatantly bullshit lie you will here on repeat. The notion that Israel only targets Hamas.

More UN workers have been killed in a 2 month period than have died in any other war since the UN's formation. Over 130.

If they were targeting Hamas then why have so many UN buildings, refugee camps, and hospitals been bombed?

If there goal wasn't civilians then why do civilians make up the majority of the casualities?

Why the medieval style siege/blockade that has caused hospitals to lose fuel and medicine and civilians to go hungry and thirsty?

Why parade civilians around in their underwear? Why laugh and cheer as a UN school is exploded?

Why leave babies in the NICU and force the hospital staff to leave with the promise an ambulance would be provided for the babies only for people to return once the IDF left and find the baby corpses rotting because the ambulance was never provided?

We can even leave Gaza to prove this is not about Hamas. Hamas does not lead the West Bank. And yet Palestinians there are being murdered and arrested at increased rates, their homes stolen by illegal settlers.

Israel officials have called this the Gaza Nakba, they have claimed they will make Gaza inhospitable, they have claimed there are no civilians in Gaza.

Netanyahu has said to remember Amalek.

What is Amalek? Amalek refers to Israels enemy in the bible. This phrase specifically, "Now go, attack the Amalekites and totally destroy all that belongs to them. Do not spare them; put to death men and women, children and infants, cattle and sheep, camels and donkeys"

Israel wants to steal the little land the Palestinians have left. Even now they are herded and concentrated into ever smaller camps with no resources.

Idk what we can do about the situation. This post seems silly for all the good it will do. But maybe it will open the eyes of a couple people. I think that would make it worth it.

[valyrfia]

Carlos fans trying to say Carlos experience racism and xenophobia are literally insane…… He is a white Spaniard, that’s why sometimes I can’t stand f1 fans honestly

Not to continue my "fandom on twitter is batshit" hate campaign but this is COMPLETELY a twitter fandom type of problem and becuase it's specifically such a twitter fandom type trait it so clearly marks who is an F1 fan and who is just into F1 because it's the 'thing to be into' and 'content to consume' after the DSMP collapse or one's favourite kpop idol having to do military service....

But it remains batshit. As someone who did the entire DSMP experience on twitter I can speak from experience when I say that fandom on there is this writhing mass of angry echo chambers that are so far removed from reality it's staggering. I would be willing to bet my savings that NONE of these accounts have said a single word about the way Yuki is treated by his team or the literal incident at border security the other day–you know–ACTUAL racism and xenophobia.

Also all Europeans hate all other Europeans. It's in our nature. Every European country has derogatory terms for every other European country because of wars fought centuries ago. It's part of our charm. "Maybe try asking him in Spanish" is hilarious actually, and one I'm definitely going to steal for casual ribbing.

[mouse-fantoms]

Thinking about… Julie just casually wearing her Sunset Curve bedazzled shirt and the boys just seeing it like “…huh?¿? Hey… where’d you get that…”

Julie saying that she found it in her mom’s stuff but didn’t think too much about it since her mom probably got it second hand from somewhere and then bedazzled it. “She probably got it from eBay and then customized it. It’s just kind of funny that it’s your guy’s.”

And they’re all looking at each other bc they know that the white with the black lettering shirts were the ones that they handed out whereas maybe the black with white lettering were more “mass produced” so the three know “we handed out that shirt to someone 👁️👁️”

There’s a moment where Julie has to throughly explain to the three that eBay is not a location but just a website. And that is it just one site and there’s no ‘a Bay’ or like a ‘b Bay’ or ‘c Bay’ (it took an embarrassing amount of time to explain the concept to the three)

They explain that yeah it could be possible that it’s second hand but is also possible that the boys personally gave the shirt to her mom so now they’re trying rack their brain and think. They are just thinking out loud like Luke saying,

“The night we died there was that girl who was cleaning tables that Reggie gave a shirt to. And then those girls in line….”

Julie shrugs and says that her mom was in a couple bands so probably acquired it during one of those incidents.

As Alex thinks about it he asks,

“…didn’t that girl who was cleaning tables say she was in a couple bands?”

Julie has never seen them think so much about one thing and focus this much on something and it’s just a little weird since the chances of them actually interacting with her mom is real low. Nonetheless she shrugs as she says, “My mom’s name is Rose if that helps you guys any.”

And the three just instantly realize at the same time. Luke and Alex just look at Reggie,

“YOU HIT ON JULIE’S MOM!”

“I was being nice 😭”

[miaoqing]

(some of) the times Shen Jiu was an asshole to Binghe

(these are excerpts from chapters 1, 19, and the SQQ&YQY extra ONLY. There's definitely more but I feel like this amount gets the points across lol + addresses some of the things people most often "forget")

chapter 1

pg 2

“Shen Qingqiu was jealous of Luo Binghe’s unparalleled and exceptional talent, and he secretly feared his disciple, whose cultivation improved by leaps and bounds every day. He always found new ways to demean Luo Binghe, even enlisting the boy’s peers to belittle him. Throughout these years of studying, Luo Binghe endured every humiliation.”

pg 11

“Where is Luo Binghe?”

(...)

Yue Qingyuan sighed. “I know you don’t like him. But that child’s already worked hard enough, and he hasn’t made any significant mistakes. Don’t punish him any further, all right?”

(...)

“Whenever you finish stringing him up and beating him, haven’t you always shut him in the woodshed?”

pg 12

“Why was he so unable to tolerate the main character no matter how innocuous his behavior, and why did he spend day in and day out scheming up new torments for him, even getting others to do so in his place?”

pg 13

“Whenever Shen Qingqiu had called for Luo Binghe in the past, he’d always referred to him as “that little beast,” “ungrateful brat," "this wretch,” or “whelp”.”

pg 20

"It meant they had also passed the incident where Luo Binghe’s fellow Qing Jing Peak disciples had pummeled him en masse, as well as the incident where he’d “backtalked” Shizun and been strung up and beaten, in addition to the incident where he’s ruined the peak’s talismans and been punished with hard labor…”

chapter 19

“What the original flavor cared about more than anything else in life was his cultivation. (...) Otherwise he wouldn’t have hated and envied Luo Binghe to the point of insanity.”

---

“Shen Qingqiu saw three things on the original flavor’s face: envy, envy, and more envy. Envy that Luo Binghe had a mother who was “the kindest in all the world to him,” envy of Luo Binghe’s talent, envy that Luo Binghe would enter Cang Qiong Mountain Sect at the best age for cultivating. He was indeed the kind of person to brim with envy and resentment toward a young child. Shen Jiu stood and walked over to Luo Binghe, his steps measured. (...) Shen Jiu casually tossed the tea in his hand, cup and lid and all, onto Luo Binghe.

The tea wasn’t freshly boiled, the temperature only hot instead of scalding, but Luo Binghe’s entire person still froze, stunned.

Ming Fan’s footsteps padded after Shen Jiu, who’d walked out of the Bamboo House without a second word, hands behind his back. But before the former stepped out the door, he yelled behind him, “Kneel! Shizun hasn’t allowed you to get up. If you dare get up, be warned that you’ll be strung up and beaten, and after the beating, you’ll be shut in the woodshed for three days!”

SQQ&YQY extra:

“Luo Binghe was using the incorrect cultivation manual that Shen Qingqiu had handed him*; he should have long since died bleeding from the seven apertures, his body rupturing down to his bones, skin, meridians, tendons, and flesh.”

*ch. 1 vol 1: "The cultivation manual Ming Fan had given Luo Binghe was a fake"

ETA: ch. 2 vol 1: "Shen Qingqiu had inspired Ming Fan to give Luo Binghe a fake cultivation manual"

[judeiscariot]

Look I know all the girlies want FTWWW but there would truly be an international incident if she rocked up in her business casual skirts and sheer stockings and sang "lick this battery" okay like the Red Cross would have to be deployed for a mass dick explosion worldwide and I don't think any of us are prepared for that

no you’re right it’s the type of thing where i’ve been begging for them to do it since the beginning of the NA leg but if they actually did my body would literally start melting from the inside out

[sophieinwonderland]

Today is the day I make one lucky cringizen's dream come true!

I've had this screenshot saved for over a month, knowing this day would come! So congrats little cringizen, your wish is finally granted!

Because I'm going to talk about Aspen's bullying of Custom-Emojis, and recount my two minutes in Aspen's server!

So let's see if I can sum this up. Aspen, an anti-endo TikToker, goes into the Custom-Emojis server. She barely says or does anything there. She gets banned for conduct in other places. Rather than moving on, Aspen plays victim while mocking people's triggers, and says she was banned for saying hi.

You can find the story from Custom-Emojis here:

Aspen escalated and is now allegedly openly admitting to bullying Custom-Emojis.

I do say allegedly because these screenshots are from r/systemscringe and I don't actually know what the context is for that second one. But if it's legit, yikes!

Now, I normally wouldn't get involved in this drama. Mostly because I think both parties behaved pretty poorly. Aspen blew a ban out of proportion instead of just moving on, and chose to mock people's triggers in retaliation for banning her. Obviously terrible. But... I also don't support Custom-Emojis following up by telling people to mass report her TikTok. Both seem like massive overreactions that only furthered the conflict.

There are no mature adults in the room.

So why am I talking about this?

Well you see, I have a funny story to share!

See, a while back, when r/systemscringe added Aspen to their hit list, I wanted to see what the deal with her server was. Was it really as bad as r/systemscringe claimed?

So... I joined it... just to see.

I never actually got to find out!

While casually scanning, before posting anything at all, I read people talking about me just joining. They recognized my name. A few were explaining to the mods who I was and that I was an endogenic systems. I think they mentioned I was a tulpa too.

One of them even mentioned following this blogs for the laughs. Which, if you're here now, hi! 🙋‍♀️

And then, everything went black. Well, gray. Point is, I was kicked from the server! Instantly! In what was probably less than 5 minutes having said absolutely nothing!

All for the crime of being an endogenic system.

And at the time, I didn't comment on it. It seemed... disadvantageous. r/systemscringe was focused on Aspen. Aspen and her server was focused on r/systemscringe. Why interrupt that? Why get in the way of ableist anti-endo factions tearing each other apart?

But with this latest incident, I had to talk about the sheer hypocrisy of Aspen's community at being outraged over Aspen getting banned while doing the same exact things!

It's just too funny to not point out the hypocrisy of Aspen and her followers!

Wait... Aspen's Here?

Okay, so everything above I wrote Thursday or Friday. I didn't post then because other things were going on and I wasn't quite ready to get dragged into the drama. Then surprise, Aspen made a new Tumblr! And one of her first acts was invading inclusive tags.

Expanding on what this anon says, the pluralgang tag isn't merely where endogenic systems hang out. It's a tag that was made explicitly for the inclusive plural community.

As a reminder, the "plural" label originated from non-disordered system, and has always been inclusive to all plurals for nearly 30 years. The plural community is our community. And hate isn't welcome here.

Oh, did I mention she tosses around ableist slurs?

Putting aside the blatant ableism against people with schizophrenia with that slur, let's reiterate that the existence of non-disordered and endogenic plurality is back by actual psychiatrists. This is not schizophrenia. It is not a mental disorder.

Transgender Mental Health by Eric Yarbrough explicitly states that you can be plural without trauma or a disorder.

This is a book that was peer reviewed and published by the American Psychiatric Association.

The ICD-11 states you can experience the presence of multiple "distinct personality states" (the same term it uses for alters) without a disorder in their entry on DID.

The existence of non-disordered and endogenic plurality is FACT!

And anyone who says otherwise is either ignorant or lying.

...

...

...

Oh, and since I'm sure this post will get around to r/systemscringe and one or both of its servers, be sure to check out my debunk of r/systemscringe's lies while you're here. 😉

Also, as always when an anti-endo invades inclusive and pro-endo tags, my response is going into anti-endo tags. If any anti-endos don't like this, please take it up with Aspen. I'll respect boundaries as long as the boundaries of our community is respected. Otherwise... 🤷‍♀️

[thekinkyleopard]

SnzFire of Hostility

Part 4 of 6

A Snzfic series

⚠️Content Warning⚠️

Public Humilitation/Degradation, Force Allergen,

SnzFucking, Mess M

Description: Draeko is the fresh meat at College, new in town, and at first the jocks Alistar and Kanai, don’t find much interest in him. Until they find out he’s rather a little factory of entertainment and fetish gold. What will become of them all?

Author’s Notes: 😀 I thought this was gonna win in the poll, guess not. CONSUME THIS CONTENT ANYWAY ITS DELICIOUS. 😤 Sorry it took me so long to update this series, I have depression. 😗 @aller-geez did the art and owns both Draeko & Kanai.

Draeko sat at the edge of his bed, his eyes glued to the text on his screen, a mass message that had been sent out to the entirety of the college. There was a party being held at Al and Kanai’s frat house, but Draeko was feeling especially nervous to attend. He’d been actively avoiding their invitations to hang out for a few days after the incident in the gym. However, despite doing what’s best for himself, which is staying away from hypersexul men that use him like a play thing….the devil on his shoulder cried out for the attention. “Get it together, Drae…” he sighed to himself setting his phone to the empty spot on the bed next to him.

Despite his inner turmoil, Dreako found himself drawn to the idea of letting loose at the party. He had been keeping to himself for too long, buried in his textbooks and avoiding any social interaction that might lead him into a similar situation as the one at the gym. But something about the invitation from Al and Kanai sparked a flicker of desire within him. Maybe it was the need to prove to himself that he couldn't be pushed around or taken advantage of so easily.

With a deep breath, Draeko stood up from his bed and made a decision. He was going to the party. As he changed into more casual clothes, he could feel the nerves fluttering in his stomach, but he pushed them aside. This was his chance to show those bullies that he was in control of his own choices and body, no matter what temptations or dangers were presented to him.

Adjusting his shirt in the mirror, Draeko met his own gaze and saw a determination shining back at him. With one last deep breath, he nodded and headed out the door. It was already an hour past the time scheduled for the party, which made Draeko feel a bit less nervous, shows he isn’t desperate since he didnt appear early. The frat house was alive with music and laughter as Draeko approached, the sound spilling out onto the street and mingling with the cool night air. He could see shadows moving behind the curtains, silhouettes of people dancing and chatting inside. As he climbed the steps to the entrance, his heart pounded in his chest, but he welcomed the feeling as a sign that he was taking back control of his own narrative.

Pushing open the door, Draeko was hit by a wave of warm air scented with sweat and alcohol. The familiar buzz of a party surrounded him, and for a moment, he hesitated at the threshold. But then he remembered why he was here – not to cower or hide, but to stand tall and reclaim his own power.

Taking a step forward, Draeko entered the fray. The music pulsed through him, setting his nerves alight with a different kind of energy. He scanned the room, recognizing some faces from class, receiving a few loose waves of acknowledgment. “Drinks….where are the drinks…” Draeko thought to himself, some alcohol in his system would bring forth a bit more confidence as he scoped out the kitchen. Making his way through the crowded party, Drae finally spotted his target at the end of the hallway. Bottles of various liquors lined the counters, and groups of people were gathered around makeshift bars, mixing drinks and laughing. The hybrid felt a surge of determination as he headed towards the kitchen, ignoring the curious glances from some of the partygoers.

He poured himself a shot of whiskey, the burn of it down his throat giving him a jolt of courage. As he turned to leave the kitchen, he bumped straight into another person, almost knocking the wind from himself and spilling a bit of his drink on their shirt. "Oh, I'm so sorry," Drae stammered, looking up to meet the gaze of the person he had accidentally collided with. Alistar. With the world’s largest, shit eating smile spread across his face.

Draeko's heart skipped a beat as he locked eyes with the red eyed delinquent. “Hey there Squeaks, Glad to see you could make it,” winking a glossy ruby orb in his direction. The mutt swallowed hard and tried to muster up the fake confidence he was trying to receive from his beverage to act unbothered and un-phased.

“Oh you know, had nothing else to do so I figured why not, right?” shrugging his shoulders, rolling his two toned eyes and swishing his drink in hand.

“Yeah? Well, ain’t it just a peach to see you spare some time for little ol’ me….” The red head stepped closer, his breath could be felt from the closeness of his body and the hybrid found himself feeling weak at the knees, so he stepped back a pace. Draeko forced a smile, trying to maintain his composure despite the lingering unease in his chest. He could feel Alistar's gaze on him, assessing, probing for any vulnerability to exploit. But Drae refused to let himself be intimidated.

"Well, I wouldn't want you to feel lonely in your own house," he replied, his tone light but laced with a hint of defiance. Alistar chuckled, the sound sending shivers down Draeko's spine.

"Oh, I never get lonely, Squeaks," Alistar purred, leaning in even closer until Drae could practically feel the heat radiating off him. "Especially not with such intriguing company around." Draeko's grip on his drink tightened as he tried to edge past Alistar, but the redhead moved with him, blocking his path effortlessly. The hybrid's heart hammered in his chest as he searched for an escape route, his mind racing with adrenaline. “Ahh, come on, don’t run away from me, remember how my fingers felt ins-…” suddenly a hand clasped around Al’s mouth as Drae silenced him with reddened cheeks.

“SHH! What if someone HEARS YOU?” The hybrid blushed brightly, his heart racing as he chugged the rest of his drink now out of sheer nervousness. Alistar's muffled laughter vibrated against Draeko's palm, causing the hybrid to roll his eyes and avoid the other’s heated gaze. The larger reached up to pull the mutt’s hand off his face with a playful look still plastered upon him.

“Oh come on, don’t be a stick in the mud now, Pup,” wiggling his brows a bit, teasingly. Alistar then stepped around Draeko and plucked a beer from the ice bucket on the counter. “Why not get a few more of these in ya, hm? Then I’m sure the tune will change,” biting his lower lip just barely enough to be noticeable, but Drae noticed it.

The smaller's heart raced as he watched Alistar's every move, the conflicting emotions within him like a storm threatening to break loose. Part of him wanted to run, to flee from this dangerous dance they seemed to be caught in, but another part, a darker and more primal part, was enticed by the danger, by the challenge of facing Alistar head-on. With a shaky breath, Drae took the beer that he was offered and raised it to his lips, the cool liquid washing away some of his nerves but not the wariness that lingered in his mind.

He could feel Alistar's gaze on him, like a physical touch trailing over his skin, igniting a fire that burned with equal parts desire and trepidation. Yet still, Draeko promised himself to not be ensnared by those ruby eyes again. Steeling himself, he straightened his posture and let a sly grin curl at the corner of his lips.

"Fine, but you need to watch yourself there, demon,” narrowing his mint and grey eyes in the other’s direction, almost scanning his entire body to make sure the man wasn’t about to try him. Alistar instead chuckled, grabbing one for himself and popping the cap off with a swift motion.

“Hmm, we’ll see,” was the only words the red head could muster before bringing the liquid to his lips, and once he swallowed he pulled the bottle away thoughtfully. “Though, I’ve already had a few of these so…can’t make any promises,” winking cheekily at the blushing mutt. The tension could be cut with a spoon it was so thick, Drae finding it harder to focus the more alcohol he put in his system. It was but a few seconds of silence before they were interrupted by Alistar’s right hand, Kanai.

“Oh, Hello Draeko, good to see you could make it,” he spoke cordially, almost like the incident in the gym never happened and he was breaming with self confidence. Draeko's eyes flickered briefly to Kanai, the more composed and controlled of the two friends, before returning his attention to Alistar. His heart still raced from the intensity of their interaction, but there was a flicker of relief at the interruption. Taking a step back, he inclined his head in greeting to the hound.

"Hey, Kanai. Thanks for having me over," he replied, his voice steady despite the lingering adrenaline coursing through him. Kanai offered a polite smile and a nod of his head in return, his clear blue eyes assessing Draeko with an unreadable expression. "Of course, you're always welcome here," he said smoothly, his voice a stark contrast to Alistar's more teasing tone. The larger men shared a brief look that held unspoken communication before Alistar broke the silence with a casual grin.

"Come on, we should get to the dance floor," he suggested, slinging an arm around Draeko's shoulders as if they were old friends. Drae quickly downed his drink and grabbed another before allowing the red-headed student to lead him back to the main area where most of the others were socializing. The hybrid was starting to feel woozy as the effects of the alcohol kicked in and the nerves of being within Al’s presence started to shift to that of excitement. He silently cursed himself. ‘Stop acting like a love sick puppy, this dude is using you,’ he chastised himself but unable to pull away from the other’s embrace.

His train of thought was broken down when he reached the middle of the living space with the two men. Something wasn’t right. His nose was starting to tickle unexplainably, itching and tingling with a sudden urgency. What the fuck? Alistar took note of the way Drae’s face started to scrunch and twist, he smirked. “Oh, yeah, slightly forgot to mention…see that fog machine over there,” he pointed at it with a slender index finger.

“Yeah I thought it was broken why is there a fog machine with uh….” he swallowed hard trying to keep the pipe from bursting. “No fog,” finally finishing his sentence with a hard gulp.

“Cause it’s not a fog machine tonight….just hooked it up…it’s a surprise gift, for you, pup,” Al and Kanai both locked eyes, those of the red head sparkling with menacing intentions.

“F-For….H’Hih…AHh..Uh..” he cleared his tightening throat, not quite catching on despite how obvious it was made for him. Practically spelled out. “Me? SnDFF,” he snuffled loudly, trying whatever best he could to swallow it down, what was in the air tonight? It was familiar, but all the stimulus around him, and the alcohol starting to settle in, it took the mutt longer to come to the realization of what was happening.

“Yup, filled it with my cologne,” Draeko's eyes widened in horror as the realization dawned on him. Alistar had perfectly orchestrated his downfall for the night. Genuinely, he should have guessed. Panic surged through him as he felt his sinuses swell and his chest tighten. The scent filled the room, enveloping him in a cloud of irritation and discomfort. With every breath, he could feel the sensation intensify, like tiny needles pricking at his nose and throat.

Desperation clawed at him as he tried to hold back the inevitable sneeze that threatened to burst forth. He could sense Kanai standing nearby, amusement dancing in his eyes as he watched the scene unfold. Drae's head was spinning from the alcohol, making it even harder for him to focus on fighting off the sneeze that was building up inside him like a tempest ready to unleash its fury. This was exactly the opposite of what he wanted for himself when it came to indulging within the party.

As he struggled to maintain control, Alistar's voice rang out mockingly, "Come on, pup, let it out, don’t be shy now, we’re amongst our peers,” the red head gestured to those around them, chatting and drinking.

Draeko's nostrils flared as he tried to fight against the overwhelming urge to sneeze, his mint and grey eyes watering from the potent scent that enveloped him. His chest heaved while he tried to stifle the sneeze, but it was a losing battle. With a sudden and explosive force, it tore through him, loud and unrestrained. "ihh’gxxnt’iiew! K’GNSH’iiew! Huh'GDTS'iiew!!! H’GKNSH!” Drae's body convulsed with the force of it, at first he did what he could to try and constrict the kitten like sounds, his hand flying up instinctively to cover his nose and mouth. Yet, it was to his great horror that the sounds had already echoed in the room, over the music, drawing the attention of everyone around them.

Alistar's laughter cut through the air like a sharpened knife, lethal and biting. "Oh my! What a display, you know, I think you can do better than that though," he taunted, a triumphant gleam in his eyes. Draeko felt his face burn with humiliation as he lowered his hand slowly, meeting Kanai’s ever so cold, and distance stare. Yet no matter how far the hound seemed, he was always present, the silent watcher, it was almost more intimidating that Al’s direct approaches.

The red head’s laughter continued to ring in Drae's pink tip dusted ears as he tried to compose himself, cheeks aflame with embarrassment. The party around them seemed to have paused, all eyes on him as he stood there, caught in the grip of his own body's betrayal. He could feel the weight of their stares like physical pressure against his skin, suffocating him in a bubble of mortification. The red head’s sudden words cutting off the inner defeat the mutt felt in this current situation. “Hey Nai, fetch us a round of vodka shots, eh?” his ruby orbs danced in his friend’s direction.

Kanai, the ever silent observer, finally stirred at Alistar's prompting. With a knowing nod, he sauntered over to the bar to fetch the round of shots as requested. His movements were smooth and deliberate, a stark contrast to the chaos swirling within Draeko. The hound's icy gaze bore into Drae's soul, a silent reminder of his constant vigilance.

Meanwhile, Alistar leaned in closer, his voice dripping with malicious amusement. "You should really be more careful with your secrets, hm pup?" he teased, relishing in the other’s submission. Draeko couldnt press upon how deeply seduced he felt in the palm of the other’s hand. This slick bastard just knew how to get under his skin, irritatingly and sexually. The mutt unable to process, felt his whole body was a blaze as the scent caused his chest to tighten uncomfortably once more. This was never ending, he had never been triggered so many times in the last few years of his life than he had been lately since meeting these two demons. The mutt’s nose tickled with urgency, his throat tingling like sparkling water.

Draeko's head spun from the overpowering scent of the allergen, his chest constricting as he struggled to draw in a full breath. The sneezes had left him feeling exposed and vulnerable, his defenses shattered before the amused gazes of those around him. He could almost taste the humiliation in the air, thick and suffocating.

As Kanai returned with the shots, a sense of relief washed over Draeko. The hound's presence was a grounding force amidst the chaos, a reminder that he was not completely alone in this torment. So he thought. Forgetting just how often the navy haired man would join and assist. Yet, in this moment, Kanai's cool demeanor and calculated movements were like a lifeline for Drae amongst all the guests whispering and gossiping, it offered a sense of stability in the midst of Alistar’s taunts and his own physical discomfort. “Good lookin, bud,” Al winked at his friend, who dispersed two shot glasses to each of them from the tray he had brought them on.

Alistar's voice seemed to echo in Draeko's ears, a constant reminder of his own powerlessness in this twisted game they constantly played. The way the red-head reveled in Draeko's embarrassment sent a shiver down his spine, a mixture of lustfueled submission and absolute humiliation. Before the hybrid could succumb to anymore of it, they each all shot back their drinks, letting the glasses clink loudly against the tray they returned them to. Despite the mutt knowing he shouldnt add anymore alcohol to his already full system, he couldn’t confidently face the rest of the night, without it. Kanai turning to bring the tray back to the kitchen.

As the hound disappeared into the kitchen, Alistar's smirk widened whilst he casually flicked a small remote hidden in his pocket. Unbeknownst to Draeko, he had been surreptitiously turning up the fog machine's dispensing rate all this while. The scent thickened around them, enveloping Drae in a haze that seemed to amplify the smell of cologne hanging in the air.

Draeko's eyes shifted with realization as the smell grew more potent, his sinuses flaring up in protest. He struggled to maintain his composure, but each inhale brought forth a wave of discomfort that threatened to break through his carefully constructed facade. Like a fat elephant sitting directly on his chest. Alistar watched with glee as Drae's reddened and moist nostrils flared, while his eyes watered so hard small tears began to trickle at the corner of his orbs, a cruel smile playing on Al’s lips.

"You know, pup," Alistar taunted, leaning in closer as if sharing a secret, "There's no use trying to hide it. Your reactions are written all over your face…just release, I promise, you’ll feel sooo much better,” his breath ghosting over the other’s skin as he moved to nip at the mutt’s sensitive ear tip.

Draeko's heart pounded in his chest as Alistar's words sank in, a mixture of lust and desire swirling within him. His body was betraying him, reacting to the humiliation and degradation in a way that both repulsed and excited him. The cologne thickened around them, a physical manifestation of the suffocating control Alistar held over him. It was getting to be too much as he tried to swallow a golf ball sized weight down his already tight throat. His sinuses, full, overflowing with need.

As Alistar leaned in, Draeko could feel his warm breath against his ear, sending shivers down his spine. The mutt's body tensed involuntarily as he fought against the conflicting urges warring within him. He wanted to push Alistar away, to escape the torment and degradation he was being subjected to. No one should have the power to dominate him like this. But at the same time, a twisted part of him craved the humiliation, the helplessness that came with surrendering to it as he listened to the whispers and snickers of on lookers from the party.

Alistar's fingers brushed lightly against Draeko's cheek, tracing a path down to his quivering lips. The red-head's touch almost solidifying his undying needs but it was the simplest, and lightest of touches that wound up sending him over the edge. He blew. “Hh..-” It started, he tried to swallow it but it barreled out of him like a ton of bricks being dumped out of a wheel barrow. “Hh’NDKT’ih! A-Ahh…K’GNSH’iiew! hihh’KXXtsh’chhu! HNn-..’GNSH!”

The force of Draeko's sneezes were unexpected, violent even. His body lurched forward in a spasm of movement, the motion ripping through him like a storm tearing through a forest. He staggered, nearly losing his balance as the sounds echoed through the room, drowning out the laughter of the students around him. “Huh’GDTS’iieW!” The never ending onslaught continued. Draeko's entire frame trembled with the force of his sneezes, his muscles tensing and releasing in rapid succession around the red head’s grip at his waist. “ehh’Gxxtchh’iew!”

Alistar's smirk faltered for a split second, turning into something dark before he recovered, amusement dancing in his eyes at Draeko's expense. The other students erupted into fresh peals of laughter, their gazes fixed on the mutt who had become the unwitting center of attention. “Look at all this attention you’re drawing in pup, a pathetic little mess at my disposal..you’re such a good dog,” Drae could feel their eyes on him, mocking and judgmental, their amusement cutting into him like a thousand tiny blades, but the words dripping off Al’s lips were the fire to his loins, the power behind this man’s reactions over him, igniting that nymph under the surface.

As Kanai reentered the room, a frown creased his brow as he took in the scene before him. His gaze flickering between those around them and the two being highlighted at this current stage. He almost felt the need to step in and stop it. Yet, he watched as Drae’s body hitch, and gasp.

“Ehh’Gxxtch’iew! H’GXNT! Hiihh’NGnxxt’iiew! Huh'GDTS'iiew!! ” the mutt did his best to hold them back, stifled behind his choking and gasping throat. The room fell almost silent, the music seeming to fade at the intensity. Every eye fixed on Draeko as he succumbed to a fit of powerful kitten like explosions. Each unstable sound reverberated through the space, a physical manifestation of his vulnerability and public humiliation. Alistar's grin widened at the sight before him, relishing in the control he had over the mutt and the attention he was able to draw. As Kanai stepped forward, a flicker of concern in his eyes, it was as if a cold wind had blown through the room, chilling the atmosphere that had been thick with tension and amusement just moments before.

Draeko's body shook with each sneeze, his chest heaving as he struggled to find his breath amidst the onslaught. The scent of cologne and allergens mingled in the air, creating a suffocating cloud around him, the red head reached down to grip the hybrid’s trembling jaw, forcing his gaze upward into that of lust-filled ruby gems. The mutt's eyes darted between Alistar and Kanai, though a struggle to make out the second body with his face forcibly held up, a mix of anxiety and longing evident in his depths. He felt exposed, stripped bare, it was all for one, horrifying but also, incredibly, undeniably, erotic. Draeko cursed himself inwardly, god damn him and his insatiable libido.

As Alistar continued to hold Draeko's face, he leaned in closer, his lips brushing against the hybrid's ear. His voice low and seductive, he whispered, "You're a sight to behold, Draeko,” He paused, a lingering darkness to the use of the mutt’s government name. “So vulnerable, yet so undeniably alluring… A real sight for our guests tonight," the end of his statement garnished with a side smirk so devious, it caused the hybrid to shiver. Draeko couldn't help the thrill that came from receiving the sudden praise, despite the humiliation that still lingered in the air.

“Al…” Kanai interjected almost quietly, and when his friend dismissed the sound, he cleared his throat with more confidence and stood up straight. “Alistar, enough,” feeling finally that this whole display had gone on long enough. The red eyed male looked up and squinted, narrowing his eyebrows with defiance.

“Don’t be a party pooper, Nai,” sticking out his tongue before the other reached out to take Drae’s hand and pulled him square out of the demons arms.

“Hiiiii’NGnxxt’iew!” another escaped the mutt surprisingly as he was yoinked from the position he had once been in, trapped within the red head’s grasp. The force of wind that had splashed across his face with the velocity, was just another kick in his already tightened and weakened sinuses. Though it was slightly stunted due to the surprise, it still caused the other’s cheeks to burn bright red, his nose trickling as he quickly reached up to wipe it. “I-I-….excuse me…” the mutt muttered, pushing passed Kanai, and the other onlooking students who simply shrugged and went back to their previous chatting. Drae headed straight to the bathroom.

“Hey man, not cool,” Alistar scoffed and folded his arms over his chest, clearly cheesed at his fun ruining bestie.

“He seemed uncomfortable, I didn’t like it,” The navy haired man adjusted his wrist watch, making sure it was still ticking as a means to avoid eye contact with the red head who was going to try and gaslight him.

“He’s always uncomfortable! But you interject NOW?” Al scoffed throwing his hands up into the air, unbelieving that out of all the times to grow a conscious, he’d choose the time he’s having the most fun.

“Yes,” Kanai looked up now making dead eyed contact with the other’s irritated ruby orbs.

“That’s cold, Nai, that’s cold….I thought we had something special,” he shook his head, his gaze averting to the ground before shoveling his hands timidly in his pockets to put on an even grander display.

“We do, now, go apologize,” Kanai stood confidently, one foot rooted in business while his heterochromatic eyes casually rolled at the other's dramatic gestures. He remained unfazed by the theatrics.

“What?? Apologize!? Why would I do that? Im not sorry!” A small burst of air escaped from the red head's mouth, as if laughing at the very concept. He shook his head, his hands gesturing emphatically to match his dismissive tone.

“Because, he seemed really upset, if it were me, you’d apologize,” delivering a logical argument that would hit closer to home for him. Not always did he like to use the tactics he had up his sleeves that could bend Alistar to his own will, but he knew how to use it with confidence and stealth.

“No I fuckin’ wouldn’t I’d tell you to suck it up!” Doubling down, but Kanai gave Alistar a knowing look after he said what he did, and the red head rolled his ruby orbs, aggressively shoveling his arms at his side out of their folded position. “FINE,” he conceded. “I’ll apologize,” and followed up with a less than enthused tone of voice this time.

“Good, I’ll see you when you return,” Kanai nodded, inwardly impressed his friend was willing to take his advice and smooth things over.

Meanwhile, in the bathroom Draeko was splashing mass amounts of water across his blushing red, swollen and leaking face. Desperate to clear himself of the horrendous scent still haunting his sinuses. “HGXNT! K’GNSH!” small, rapid fire sneezes still escaping him every few seconds as he tried to clear himself of the misery. “hiih’…” he hitched and hicked while he hovered over the sink, his hands gripping the edges like his life absolutely depended on it. “hihh’KXXtsh’chhuu! K’GNSH’iiew!! Ihh’gxxnt’iiew! K’GNSH!!” it sprayed across the mirror, too quick to stop it, decorating it in tiny droplets of spittle.

It was in the exact moment Drae was trying to compose himself that he heard a knock on the bathroom door, it was heavy handed. “Drae, Yo, can we talk?” The red head cleared his throat. “I wanted to uh…talk to you about what happened…” he muttered a bit loosely now, looking down toward the ground, he was uncomfortable. He didnt apologize. It wasnt his thing, he was an asshole through and through. However, Kanai asked him to do it…so he was gonna do it.

Draeko groaned inwardly not wanting the other to see him in this state, his head woozy from alcohol and sneezing his absolute brains out of his skull wasn’t exactly the pinnacle of sexy. Not to mention the conflicting feelings he had after that entire display of control. “I- ….Uh….it’s fine…just go away…” he stutters loosely, trying to shoo the other from seeing him like this.

“Look, I get it, you’re upset could you just plea-…” cut off suddenly by the hybrid opening the door and dragging him inside.

“Alright! God..I’m a mess right now, what?” Draeko huffed with slight annoyance but his face reddened when he looked up and locked eyes with the other. Like he was suddenly taken under by a strong wave in the ocean, memories started to flush of his hand on his jaw, the sound of his voice and the feeling of a steady heart beat against his back. So controlled. So Calm. He tried to keep his ambitions down at bay but the alcohol was making him more impulsive by the minute, his sinuses still throbbing despite it. Alistar was starting to feel an overwhelming sense of irritation and took a deep breath in.

“Dude! I’m just trying to apologize for upsetting you, fuck!” he threw his hands up, and the lighting caught his flexing arms tastefully, the hybrid swallowed loosely as his eyes flashed between checking him out and keeping eye contact.

“Wh-….I’m only upset that you made me sneeze! Asshole!” which, the usage of every word caught the red head’s attention. Only…upset…sneeze…so…then…? He cocked a thin red brow and looked the other up and down quizzically before Drae rolled his eyes and finally couldn’t handle it any longer. The courage running through his veins and the way he was starved of the other’s touch for so long…the hybrid reached up with both his fists closing around the collar of Alistar’s tshirt, and slammed their lips together with a furious heat.

Alistar was caught off guard by the sudden, intense kiss, but he couldn't deny the thrill that surged through him. Draeko's lips were firm and demanding, his tongue parting Alistar's lips as he explored the other man's mouth. Al’s hands gripped the mutt’s hips, pushing him against the edge of the sink before pressing their bodies together, their clothes stuck to their skin from sweat and alcohol. “Fuck me…” the mutt whimpered behind their passionate entanglement.

Draeko's hands traveled up Alistar's back, his fingers curling into the dense red hair at the nape of his neck. He groaned into the kiss, his erection straining against the denim of his jeans, desperate for friction. Alistar moaned into the kiss, his own arousal matching the hybrid's “Say less,” he returned with a voice equally matched of breathlessness.

The sounds of their passionate lips and their ragged breathing filled the air, creating a cacophony of intense lust. They were both lost in the moment, all their differences and arguments temporarily forgotten.

As they continued to kiss, Draeko's hands moved lower, sliding under the waistband of Alistar's jeans, feeling the heat and hardness of his arousal. Alistar let out a low growl, his hands tightening on Draeko's hips, pulling their hips closer together.

The room spun around them, mostly due to the intensity of their movements mixed with a heavy consumption of booze, but none the less that passion burned hot as they began to tear shirts over heads, and shovel pants down ankles. Their skin met in a rush of wet, electric sensation, naked bodies collided against the cold, porcelain surface of the sink. Draeko's deep-set eyes locked onto Alistar's gaze, a mixture of unbridled lust and long-suppressed desire burning in their depths. He leaned in and whispered huskily, "I want you so bad…please..” he whimpered, biting his lower lip while pleading reddened, wet, eyes gazed up at the other. Al could only reply with an animalistic, approving grunt before finally finding the words he needed.

“Yeah? Then you can have me….but I want you to watch,” he gripped the other’s hips tightly before spinning him around to face the slightly speckled mirror, rubbing his harded cock against the crack between Drae’s welcoming cheeks. “I want you to see yourself get absolutely fucking claimed by me, this is what you’ve been wanting…and you’re going to face it,” he smirked with a cocky resolve, spitting in his hand, and mulling it lazily over his thick length.

Draeko shuddered, overwhelmed by the sudden turn of events but his eyes never left the reflection as Alistar’s cockhead teased his entrance. “Y-Yes Sir….” he whimpered in response. Unable to resist the raw desire that radiated off the other man, he arched his back, pressing his ass against the invading tip. Alistar's smirk deepened, his fingers tightened around the mutt’s slender hips, and he slowly forced his way into the hybrid, the heat of their bodies radiating off each other.

Alistar's pace was slow and deliberate, savoring the moment as he finally felt Draeko's body gripped around him. The red-head's groans echoed in the bathroom, a testament to the pleasure he was enduring. The hybrid's hips bucked back, meeting each thrust with a determined ferocity. His emotions ran the gamut – from frustration to desire, from pleasure to pain, all tangled into a mess of raw sensations. He was finally getting his way and Draeko didnt even feel an ounce of guilt for giving in. They both needed this.

Their bodies moved together, synchronized by the rhythm of their breaths and the slap of skin against skin. A sheen of sweat glistened over their skin, making their bodies glisten in the reflection. Draeko's eyes never left the mirror, both proud and ashamed of the sight of his body being claimed by the red head, the way his mouth hung open with each pathetic mewl and whimper that spilled out.

Alistar's hands moved with purpose, running down Draeko's back and across his spine with a purpose to leave long deep lines of marks that were sure to stain. As they moved, the echoes of the jock’s words reverberated through Draeko's mind - watch, be claimed, face it. It was a shameful thought, but also an intensely pleasurable one. The mirror serving as a testament to his shame and yet his deepest desires.

Alistar's pace increased, his thrusts deep and hard, and Draeko moaned in response, his head dropping back and his eyes rolling upward. The pleasure was intense, and though the embarrassment and longing were still there, it was drowned out by the raw, primal feeling of being taken. “Who do you belong to?” he heard the words suddenly cut through his mindless pleasure, the hybrid sucked in a stiff breath of air.

“Y-You..” he gasped, his eyes half lidded as he tried to keep eye contact with the other.

“Say my name,” Al ordered, his lips twisting into a satisfied smirk.

“Al…istar” Draeko managed to whisper, his voice breaking in a mix of yearning and vulnerability.

Alistar's eyes glimmered with triumph as he continued to thrust, his hands gripping Draeko's hips with a vice-like grip.

“Good boy, Now, look at yourself,” He nodded towards the dirty mirror, and Draeko forced his eyes open, staring at the reflection of his body being ravaged by the other man. In a quick motion, Al leaned over to snag his tshirt laying beside them, bringing it up to Drae’s face and smothering it into his calmed nostrils. "Go on, inhale,”

Hesitantly, the hybrid inhaled deeply, expecting to maybe get a whiff of the red head’s natural musk but instead met with the terribly invasive scent of his cologne instead. Shit. “N-No-…”

“Aht, Be my good boy, come on, watch,” he pointed at the mirror ahead, his hips still snapping relentlessly, slowing down every third measure just to torment him.

“Hnn…A-Ahh…H’KGNT! Hh’NDKT’ih! Hihh’GXXTsh’iiew! ” unable to deny or hold back he watched himself twist in agony before his eyes squeezed shut in the moment he blew his top and with his hands busy keeping himself steady against the sink, he painted the mirror once more. Almost unable to see himself clearly through the reflection now as he stammered and moaned. His one mint colored eye locked with its reverse image, seeing how reddened his whites were and the tears that stained his flushed cheek. He whimpered again, snuffling pathetically as he pushed his hips back to meet every thrust.

Alistar groaned low, and slow, it was almost unearthly the way it sounded. His ruby eyes glared down and consumed the sight before him, the delightfulness of watching his target become so needy for him, only to succumb to a convulsing mess. “You’re a fuckin’ work of art, pup…fuck….you feel so good when you tighten around me….” he grunted between a clenched jaw and working hips. “How your greedy fuckin’ hole flexes when you can’t cont-..Hng..ain your silly little mess…” pushing the words out as he continued his way through the smaller male, feeling the rolling bubble of his climax approaching.

The room was echoed with the sound of Al’s demeaning voice, and the slap of skin colliding amongst their throes. The mutt’s head fell downward, unable to keep his gaze but Al gripped him by his bangs in one hand, and forced it back up. “Don’t, look…away,” he commanded forcefully, and between the residual cologne still trickling up and down the inner cavities of his sinuses, with the sudden exposure to the light above him as well, another set of sneezes came spilling out of him.

“Hh’NDKT’ih! HUH’GDTS’iiew! KGNSh! H’GXTSh’ue!” His body lurched forward, and a plume of saliva misted from his open maw. Draeko's breaths now ragged, throat sore and eyes reddened, his mind a whirlwind of shameful pleasure and submission, his nose running mildly down his lip. The mirror, a disaster from top to bottom, no space unspeckled. He knew he was being conquered, but that thought only fueled him further, he’d been wanting this. Not exactly this…prehaps could do without sneezing consistently, but he wanted to please Al. He was so desperately working for that praise. Driven by it.

“That’s right, pup, you sound so delicious when you’re sneezing all over for me ….” The demon hissed allowing the T-shirt to fall from his hand. Alistar's thrusts grew more frenzied, Draeko's whimpers and moans grew more intense as he was given clearer air to breathe. He felt his own budding release building within him, a fiery wave of ecstasy ready to explode. "Yesss, that's it…" Alistar hissed, his voice low and rough, "Make yourself cum for me…Nghh” jaw clenching tightly before he finished his sentence “…Let me see you enjoy every last second of this,"

The words were like a catalyst, igniting the lust frenzied fire within Drae. He arched his back, writhing against Al's snapping hips, every stroke bringing them closer to their shared release. Sniffling, moaning, trying to twist his nose in circles to avoid another sneeze, he just wanted to cum, he wanted to feel the other cum. He didn’t want to be over taken by another dreadfully earth shaking sneeze. The hybrid's mind was a haze, his body trembling persistently while he was plowed relentlessly. “Cum for me…let yourself go..let me see…” Alistar spoke behind gritted teeth.

The climax was upon them, the room filled with the wet slap of skin and the gasping breaths of two men lost in their primal dance. Draeko's whimpers and moans grew more desperate, his body shuddering with each stroke while his nose and head throbbed from the intensity of his allergies. Alistar's thrusts became more urgent, the hybrid's tight hole squeezing him like a vice. The room was a whirlwind of sweat and musk, the scent of their arousal mingling with the lingering cologne.

Drae's mind was a blur of guilt, pressure and pleasure, his body a live wire charging rapidly towards its climax. He could feel his orgasm building, a furious wave ready to crash over the rocks while Al struck his prostate, and began a series of attacks against it.

"Agh! Ahh! Oh, fuck!" the hybrid cried as he spilled over, his body racked and shaken by the overwhelming sensation of his orgasm. Alistar's gaze locked onto Draeko's through a spot in the mirror, his eyes burning with intensity as he watched the hybrid lose all control. His own arousal peaked, and he could feel himself nearing his own climax. One final surge, and with a primal grunt, he thrust into Draeko one last time, filling him completely.

“FUUUUUCking…SHIT!” he cursed through his orgasm. Their bodies trembled in sync, coated in a sheen of sweat and the remnants of their crimes committed. For a moment, all was still. Only the labored breathing of the two men filled the air, their hearts pounding in the aftermath of their shared release. Draeko slumped against the sink, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. The guilt and shame of the moment intertwined with the raw pleasure they had both experienced.

Alistar stumbled back eventually and steadied himself up against the wall, grabbing his pants and pulling them slowly up to fasten them back on. “That’s gonna get fucking addictive, Bravo, such a good boy…” the messy red haired man scoffed, and pulled out a pack of cigarettes, carefully pulling one out of the box, and up to his lips. He lit it.

Draeko's eyes met Alistar's in the mirror, a mixture of emotions swirled in his gaze. The culpability, the pleasure, the vulnerability. A newfound realization dawned upon him – he too, was addicted, and he craved more. His throat still sore as he tried to clear it with a cough; and then, the only sound he could hear was his own heavy breathing. He watched as Alistar's eyes burned with the same desire, the same hunger that Draeko himself felt.

Al's lips quirked up into a devilish grin as he took a drag of his cigarette, the smoke curling up into the air. "You know what they say about addiction, Squeaks?" he chuckled, his voice low and husky. "Once you get a taste of it, you can't get enough." Drae swallowed a hard large lump down his throat, biting his lower lip.

“You sound like an expert,” he chuckled nervously while he then stood straight and with the best of his ability, cleaned himself up. He was leaking from his nose still, and various other holes…he sighed inwardly, not wanting to show too many emotions off to the red head enjoying his aftermath stoge. Yet, the longer they stood around in this bathroom, the more nervous Draeko began to feel. The hybrid’s thoughts started to race, the post nut clarity was hitting him hard as he realized he was also sobering up. He quickly got dressed now. “Hey, you in a rush? You don’t want another round? Maybe ride me on the toilet?” Al wiggled his eyebrows cheekily, and Drae froze for a moment.

“I-…uh…” he cleared his throat and shook his head. “I gotta get back to my dorm…” was all he said before pushing past the red head, out the door and out of the house completely. Alistar simply stood there shirtless, slightly shocked but mostly content. He got what he needed out of the night, no need to pretend to be Prince Charming. Yet as he finished his cigarette he was met with a silent, stealthy Kanai by the door.

“FUCK! Dude! Don’t do that shit…scared the fuck outta me,” trembling outwardly as if he was covered in bugs and trying to shake them off. The hound was unimpressed, his expression, emotionless.

“Why did Draeko leave?” A simple thin brow perked up and he tilted his head ever so curiously.

“Said something bout needing to go home…he wasnt upset by the way,” The red head chuckled and stepped closer. “Just really fuckin’ horny….we smashed,” holding his hand up for a high five. He was met with a blank stare and several blinks.

“So then why’d he leave?”

“Dude, I told you, he just wanted to go home, he got his nut and wanted to dip,” shrugging his shoulders, throwing his hands up Alistar was being genuine in his response and Kanai was still deeply confused but wound up trusting his friend’s word.

“If you say so…Also someone threw up in the kitchen..you said you’d clean up any messes….” Al sighed with a mixture of frustration and annoyance.

“Uncle Fuckin…fine alright, I’ll be right there,” the jock grabbed his tshirt off the ground and slid it back over his head. “Lets get this over with…”

…..

Finally at home, Drae collapses on his back across the bed. Staring directly up at the ceiling he isn’t entirely sure what to do with what had happened tonight, and frankly, he wasnt ready to face it. With a deep, long sigh, he closes his eyes, and drifts off to sleep.

To be continued…

Author’s Notes: OoOoOoOo StEaMy 🥵🥵🥵 I enjoyed writing this one I’m not gonna lie. Draeko being tormented in front of everyone 😍? Secretly enjoying the power Al has over him! 😍 Al?! Anyway! Kisses! Hope yall enjoyed 🫶🏻

[lost-girl-2021]

Hello there mate!

Can I please request more Adopted!Spider Human AU hc?

I really enjoyed the first part you write btw!

It's hella amazing!

Thanks so much! Here're some random ass ideas I had last night, lol. (Also, because I legit forgot that I decided this, he's twelve).

Back to the whole 'confrontation on the sinking boat thing', I think that it would be one of the hardest moments of Spider's life. Because, he has this family— a father —who raised him his entire life. Taught him to hunt, watched his first steps, kept track of his height. They'd done everything for him. Beyond a few wayward thoughts when it came to genetics, he'd barely even thought about his birth father before he was taken.

With Quaritch (and the recoms), he was treated differently. Sure, he still slept next to his birth father at night and the man prepared all of his MRE's using the little water-activated heater so Spider didn't burn himself. And he wasn't allowed any weapons, because he was still technically a prisoner.

But, he wasn't babied. With the Sully's, he was always the little brother, the fragile child. Everyone got worried when he got the tiniest scrapes or bruises. Anytime he climbed the big trees to get fruit like his siblings, someone was waiting at the bottom with a nervously lashing tail. It didn't matter how many times he proved he was capable, he was treated like he was Tuk's age, even though he was already twelve. At twelve, Neteyam was allowed to go into the forest by himself until sunset every day. Spider was barely allowed to use a knife (after an incident with almost losing a thumb).

He loved his family, but it was nice to be treated like he was capable. Sometimes, he was scared that he'd never be treated like an adult in the clan, since he'd be unable to bond with an Ikran, unable to prove he'd become a man.

It was kind of like a Na'vi equivalent of summer camp, at first. When they were making their way through the forest, away from the RDA and the mean general (and the truth). When they got their Ikrans, Spider watched it with a jealous pang. And then, he was sat in front of Quaritch, flying through the air.

And all he could think about was his mama. Taking him for long flights, just the two of them, whenever Spider was feeling down. When he had a nightmare that night, he woke up crying. Because, all he wanted was to be squished between his parents, safe and warm.

I think that after the whole village burnings, Spider would probably feel even worse. Because, he had started to actually believe Quaritch when he said he didn't want to hurt anyone, that he wouldn't hurt Spider.

In this version, Quaritch works to try and mend the sudden rift (caused by him being a complete asshole and trying to mass murder and shit). He lets Spider watch old Earth cartoons on his tablet until the battery is completely drained, he gives him candy for dinner (more than once) and even goes so far as to let Spider play in the sand of one of the empty beaches they fly past.

And, because Spider is twelve, it kind of works for a while. Until the next awful thing, the Tulkun hunt. This time, Quaritch actually makes an effort to keep Spider oblivious to it all. He lets Spider stay up late the night before they go hunting, then leaves him to sleep in. Of course, Spider wakes up and goes looking for someone he knows and finds his way above ground just as the chaos starts.

He sees two of his siblings and a Metkayina girl cuffed to the railing, sees Quaritch as the one leading the charge. I think instead of a casual conversation, Lo'ak would probably flip out. In this, that's not his friend, that's his younger brother,

"Spider? Spider! Are you hurt?" Lo'ak screamed, thrashing around even pinned to the ground.

Was Spider hurt? "I'm fine, bro. What— "

He tried to take a step forward, but two human soldiers grabbed him as Quaritch waved a hand. "Take him to the bridge."

"No, no— Lo'ak!" He yelped, straining as he was lifted up by the duo, dragged up the stairs.

Blah, blah, blah

Instead of Neteyam and Lo'ak rescuing Spider, they leave with out him. Ik they normally wouldn't, so maybe Neteyam did get shot, or Lo'ak did, just not fatally. So, they had to leave. The Sully family (minus Spider) meet up again and Lo'ak tells Jake that Spider's on board the ship.

Cue Neytiri and Jake going all 'crazy fight scene' intense and leaving to rescue Spider from the sinking ship. Neytiri goes one way, Jake goes the other, because they have no clue where he could be and limited time to search.

Jake ends up tracking down Spider just as Quaritch finds him too. This is where we get that little scene I wrote before, Imma clip it in rn and then add onto it.

“Spider, baby, it’s okay. It’s okay, just take a breath.” Dad soothed, reaching towards him. Spider had missed his dad so much, had missed his voice and his hugs and—

“He said you lied.” Spider cried, all of the confusion of the past few months rushing to the surface. “He— he said Paz was a part of the RDA. That you killed her! He . . . he said he’s my real dad.”

“I’m your dad. I’m the one who taught you to walk and hunt and fish— “

“Because I never got the chance!” Quaritch shouted from Spider’s other side. Both of them were a mere arms length away, but neither made a move. “Your mother never got the chance.”

“Spider, we can talk about everything tomorrow, I promise. But, ‘Teyam’s hurt and your Mama needs you— I need you. You need to come home.”

“You left me.” He whimpered. “You left the forest.”

“We were always going to come for you— “

“They didn’t.” Quaritch snapped. “I was the one who protected you from the general. I was the one who took care of you— “

“He stole you. Tuk and your mama haven’t stopped crying since that day.” He insisted. "Your brother have been making you new arrows and we brought all of your things with. Norm and Max have barely even slept, they've been searching nonstop."

"I— " Spider blinked away tears, cheeks itchy and hot. "I don't know what to do."

"Come with me, Spider. We— we can ride the Ikrans as much as you want and you can have your own tablet— whatever you want, son."

"Baby, Spider-baby, come to me. Come to Dad, please." Dad's voice was gruff, but his eyes were wide the same way they were when Spider broke his arm two years ago. He was scared.

He lunged towards his dad, latching onto his leg. Quaritch roared behind them and suddenly his mama was there, pulling him from Dad and into the water. She pressed on the back of his head, making him hide his masked face in her shoulder as she latched onto a sea creature he had only seen in passing. She was whispering a million things in his ear, but none of it was loud enough to drown out the fighting behind them.

Spider is taken to safety, reunites (properly) with his siblings and meets Tsireya, who Lo'ak swears he does not like when Spider asks him later. And it's so good to be back with his family that it takes him a couple days to realize that Quaritch is dead. That his dad killed his father.

[dinogoose]

the way he shows me that i’m his (and he’s mine)

“Pythagorean's are actually the ones who coined the term ‘mathematics’,” He rambles when suddenly Eddie’s calloused hand is cupping his face, his thumb brushing Buck’s cheek as Eddie stares at him with an intense focus.

Buck stops talking- stops breathing -for fear of ruining this moment.

Then Eddie pulls back, clearing his throat, “You- uh- had an eyelash.” The older man says, his ears going a little pink.

(or, eddie keeps finding reasons to touch buck.)

The first time it happens Buck thinks nothing of it.

Okay well, that’s a lie, he has a slight freak out and panic texts Maddie until she threatens to block him, but afterward he decides it was no big deal.

It’s the middle of a q- uneventful shift, and everyone’s strewn across the loft. Buck and Eddie both find themselves on the couch, side by side as usual.

Buck’s on a long-winded rant about the history of math (he can’t help it, he’s read everything he can after obtaining his mathematical ‘powers’),

“Pythagorean’s are actually the ones who coined the term ‘mathematics’,” He rambles when suddenly Eddie’s calloused hand is cupping his face, his thumb brushing Buck’s cheek as Eddie stares at him with an intense focus.

Buck stops talking- stops breathing -for fear of ruining this moment.

Then Eddie pulls back, clearing his throat, “You- uh- had an eyelash.” The older man says, his ears going a little pink.

Buck thinks he might be having an aneurysm.

“…Thank you,” Buck says, mind reeling from such a simple touch. Friends don’t tenderly remove an eyelash from your face… Do they?

He shakes his head, clearing his thoughts.

“Anyways…” He starts, a little awkwardly, his face still on fire, “The word comes from the ancient Greek and it means ‘subject of instruction’-“

—

Eddie continues to give out these casual touches more and more often with each passing moment. Each time Buck convinces himself that they don’t mean anything. They’re friendly gestures from Eddie, ones he’s been dishing out for years.

Except these feel different. More… intimate. The way Eddie looks at him, intense and raw, makes Buck think something may have changed.

But, unfortunately, because he’s him, he doesn’t believe it. He’s convinced he’s looking too deep into things.

That is until an unassuming Friday night.

He and Eddie are sitting on the couch, drinking beers, and enjoying some shitty Tom Cruise action movie. The movie is about halfway through when Eddie begins to obnoxiously yawn.

As Buck’s about to call him out on the blatantly faked yawn Eddie stretches his arms up slowly, fully extending them before lowering his right one to lay on the back of the couch. Directly behind Buck. So direct in fact that Eddie’s arm is pretty much embracing him, the warmth of it seeping into his neck.

And Buck… Well, Buck has to bite his cheek to keep from laughing because Eddie, Edmundo Diaz, just laid the moves on him, using one of the oldest tricks in the book.

Part of Buck wants to say something, maybe even turn his head slightly and just kiss this ridiculous man, but he’s waited this long, so he can wait a little longer. Patience is a virtue or whatever.

Plus, he’s loving this.

So instead he sinks back, subsequently pushing himself into Eddie’s arms, and lets himself enjoy this.

Neither move for the rest of the movie.

—

After this incident, there’s a shift between them. Not one they address, but one they both know has occurred.

Eddie continues to grow bolder with his ‘moves’ and Buck indulges a need he has had for years, which is needing to relentlessly flirt with Eddie.

He gets another opportunity to indulge himself on a cold afternoon (Well cold is relative, to be honest, Buck’s always cold so when the AC is on he’s freezing.)

His shift is nearing the end, so he’s sat at the station's table, idly reading, while also wishing his muscle mass would be more of use.

Chim’s in the kitchen talking with Bobby, the latter enthusiastically discussing wedding plans, while Chimney looks a little overwhelmed.

Buck hears Eddie slide into the chair next to him, but pays him zero mind, trying to figure out how to warm up.

He begins rubbing his hands together, attempting to get any sort of friction so he can hold onto that heat, or maybe start a fire between his palms (though logically he knows that’s impossible-). He silently curses the universe for giving him the most god-awful circulation.

But as he’s sending that silent curse, his hands are being grabbed softly, now held between Eddie’s hands. Eddie’s very warm hands.

He lets out a relieved sigh.

“We need to get you those chemical hand warmers Chris was talking about, because this is becoming a problem, Buckley. It’s not even remotely cold right now.” Eddie teases, still holding Buck’s hands.

“Or maybe I can bring you with me everywhere as a personal heater,” Buck says playfully, leaning into his touch.

Eddie looks up at him through his eyelashes, a smirk on his lips, “Is that all I’m good for?” He challenges Buck scoffs letting a smile of his own play on his lips.

“I’m sure you’re good for plenty.” He’s feeling a lot warmer than he was before, heat running through his veins.

One of Eddie’s brows quirks, “High praise.” He comments sarcastically, Buck rolls his eyes at him.

Eddie keeps his hold on Buck’s hands and uses his thumbs to rub his joints, the movement soothing.

Eddie looks up at him, catching his gaze, and they start an intense staring contest. Buck is searching his eyes and finds the same love and devotion he feels being reflected back to him. He knows, and he knows Eddie knows.

So now all they need to do is talk about it. Which isn’t exactly either of their specialties. Although recently they’ve been getting better at being more honest with each other, his recent striking accident allowed them both to open up about how they were feeling.

He opens his mouth to say something, confront what’s been brewing between them head-on when he’s interrupted by Chimney loudly shouting across the room,

“Hey! Not where we eat!”

Which causes them to break apart, a blush high on Buck’s cheeks.

—

Everything finally comes to an end the next day in Buck’s loft.

He and Eddie both had the day off, and Chris was over at a friend’s house, leaving them alone with one another.

If you asked anyone in his life, they’d tell you Buck was oblivious, and often unaware of his surroundings, making him clueless and clumsy most days. Buck resents this notion but understands where it comes from.

However, with Eddie, and with the relationship they’ve been cultivating, he knows. He knows how he feels, and knows exactly how deep his love runs for Eddie. How Eddie is his home, he’s his person. He’s not helplessly unaware, and though it’s taken them a while to get there, they both know it’s going to happen.

He and Eddie find themselves inside his kitchen, the island separating them.

“So…” He begins, not quite knowing how to breach this. (Confessing to your best friend you’ve been in love with him for years is shockingly not familiar territory for him.)

“So…” Eddie repeats, a small smile gracing his lips, letting Buck know he knows exactly where this is headed.

“I’m about ninety percent sure we’ve been flirting with each other these past few weeks,” Buck states, holding eye contact with the older man.

Eddie tilts his head, “Ninety percent?” he questions cheekily, Buck shoots him a look, “Okay fine, yes, I’ve been flirting with you. What are you going to do about it?”

Buck steps around the counter walking until he’s inches from Eddie’s face, his breath ghosting the brunette's face.

“I want you, Eddie. I’ve wanted you for years, but you already knew that” He pauses, licking his lips. He watches Eddie follow that movement.

“What do you want, Eddie?” Buck asks, breathlessly.

Eddie looks away for a moment, collecting his thoughts, before he turns back to Buck, his gaze powerful and burning, “You. I want you.”

Buck closes the gap between them, using his hands to lift Eddie’s jaw to meet his own. The kiss immediately deepens, years of pent-up emotion spilling out into this one action.

He pushes Eddie back into his counter crowding over him, tongue pushing into his mouth. Eddie tastes like spearmint and something purely him, and Buck is pretty sure he could get drunk off of him.

Eventually, regrettably, they need to breathe, so they break apart panting.

Buck doesn’t let go of his face, instead, he begins to stroke Eddie’s cheekbones with his thumbs. Eddie hums in confusion,

“What are you doing?”

Buck smiles mischievously, “You had an eyelash.”

Eddied glares at him, but the blush creeping up his neck gives him away. Buck can’t stop himself from laughing.

“I’m sorry!”

“See if I ever flirt with you again,” Eddie says, turning trying to step out of Buck’s hold. Buck doesn’t let him.

“I think you will…”

“Oh really?” He asks incredulously.

“Yeah… ‘cause you love me.” Buck drawls. The eye-roll he receives is so powerful Buck is sure it had to have hurt.

“Possibly,” Eddie grumbles, and Buck beams at him.

“I love you too, Eddie.”

Eddie's face softens, and he slumps forward in Buck's arms. Buck kisses the top of his head, still reeling from their confession.

They did it, they got there.

(here it is, the silly ‘making up excuses to touch you’ fic. hope you enjoyed!)

[undeadsourpatchkid]

assorted papa headcanons

Secondo and Copia are two different types of theater kids: anti-Hamilton theater purist vs. gleek

Primo was really into DnD when it got popular in the 80s (he always played as a wizard)

Terzo loves helping new ghouls adjust to the human realm - he was the first papa to become fluent in ghoulish (thanks to Omega)

They didn't need to learn, as "Papa" is lead singer and band/church figurehead, but each has a preferred instrument they like to play: drums for Primo, bass guitar for Secondo, guitar for Terzo, and piano for Copia

fuck their canon ages, Primo and Secondo were born mid-to-late 50s (i feel like them having the same mom would make sense, maybe irish twins?), Terzo between '62 and '65, and Copia somewhere in '69 or '70 (shortly after the release of seven inches)

Terzo for sure would be addicted to shopping on etsy

Secondo and Primo did a double drag routine for a short stint in their 20s - Secondo learned how to strut in pleasers when they gained popularity in the late 90s because of this

Copia is the resident history nerd - loves talking about the Roman empire, triangle shirtwaist factory incident, the radium girls, etc

Copia has his rats and Secondo has his snakes, but the closest Primo got to a pet was a huge, black, furry "dog" that would only visit him in the gardens after the sun set. Terzo nearly pissed his pants when he saw it for the first time and the ghouls said it was a hellhound, but to Primo that's just Beelzebubba (who eats anything but is particularly fond of the carbonara leftovers from dinner)

Primo smokes weed, not much of a drinker. Copia is the opposite (he greened out during a midnight mass when he was a bishop) and loves red wine. Terzo uses a bowl that looks like a kitty paw and Secondo drinks vodka like water/is very fond of cuban cigars

Primo would have the most insane dad lore. he's the type of guy to casually drop the fact that he got arrested in '78 for running from the cops in a foreign country and pretend like it isn't a big deal

Primo, Secondo, Terzo, and Copia are the names they received when they ascended to cardinal - I think their names would be something like Basilio, Fausto, Antonio, and Remigio

Copia didn't want to get plastic surgery after becoming Papa - Sister Imp. was only able to convince him of it after killing his brothers the others died because he saw too much of them when he looked in the mirror :(

and one more thing about that -> Copia had nothing to do with the killings of the previous Papas. Sister orchestrated it herself and passed it off as something beneficial to the new papacy, which he couldn't stop due to him being a mama's boy