#Now I don’t have to carry anyone and I care about everyone in my community

[cyarsk52-20]

They think he won’t deport them because they aren’t committing crimes. Don’t call us when they do because imma be at home eating popcorn while they do it. my outrage is dead. I’m just laughing at you’re suffering like ha ha

Poor, uneducated whites are about to get fucked around come January 2025. Lmao that complexion isn’t going to save you. Y’all about to literally be in the fucking trenches because of this election, and I honestly can’t wait to see it.

[seireiteihellbutterfly]

Second Chance Sorcerer Chapter 2 - A Message

Summary: After surviving Mahito's Idle Transfiguration in the Shibuya Incident, Nanami finds himself in an unknown realm between life and death. Will he escape?

Pairing: Nanami Kento x Fem! reader

A/N: Chapter 2 is here! So we come to the world of the living where reader is grieving Nanami's death. Reader-centric chapter, but Nanami is brought up heavily. Originally made with my OC, to read that version, check out my AO3 account, but it's in Y/n format here.

Banner by the lovely @actuallysaiyan

Search/follow along using #secondchancesorcerer

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Nanami masterlist

There’s an incessant knocking at the door and it takes all of your energy to not scream at whoever it is to go away. You felt like someone had hit you with a sledgehammer, your sleep disturbed and restless. Why was everyone so determined to give you company when all you wanted to do was be left alone?

No one understood the hollow feeling in your chest, how you woke up every night screaming, remembering Mahito’s disgusting grin of triumph as he had murdered Nanami in cold blood. How you had begged Nanami to let you take him out of Shibuya station along with Maki, the burns on his body looking so raw and painful. He had fixed you with the same look he would give you when you were hesitating to take a shot at him during hand-to-hand combat training sessions. That stern expression of disapproval, despite his own pain and exhaustion.

“Take Maki-san and leave. I’ll be fine Y/n-san. I can’t leave. Not yet.” And you had been helpless to argue against him. You never could. There was a hypnotic quality to the way Nanami instructed you, said with a finality that you could never disobey. The man had a death wish, you knew that, and you had foolishly believed securing him with a protective charm would drive away the shadow of demise that seemed to hover over him all the time. You should have knocked him unconscious and dragged his ass out with Maki. Shoko was on site. She could have healed him, and he would be here, grieving their other losses instead of…

Your heart constricted painfully, remembering how you had held onto Yuji as hard as you could, your ears bleeding from his hysterical screaming as he swore his revenge on Mahito. Nanami’s loss hung heavily in the air. Although most of the Jujutsu community was more invested in Gojo being sealed, it was Nanami’s death that affected you the most. Nanami your mentor, your dour, unwilling mission partner, your whole heart…now gone. Like he had never existed, no trace of him left. 

“Y/n-san?” The knocking continues and with a snarl, you roll off the bed, your hair a dreadful mess, not caring that you’re still in pajamas, and yank open the door, only to see Ino and Yuji standing there, Yuji carrying a takeout container. Your ire washes away only to be replaced by a dull ache as you see them. “Oh. it’s you two.” You slink back to the bed and disappear under the covers.

“We haven’t seen you for two days now Y/n-san.” Ino shuts the door as Yuji sets the takeout container on the table. “You can’t just lock yourself away. We’re a team. Team Nanami, remember?” Ino gives you a wan smile which you don’t have the energy to return. Yuji settles down on a chair and says nothing.

Your heart aches for the boy, so young, a teenager, looking so weary and serious, shouldering the weight of a much older man. “I haven’t been in a mood to see anyone. Everything that happened at Shibuya…I can’t.”

Your voice trembles, threatening to spill out all the unspent grief you’re carrying. You hadn't explicitly told anyone about your feelings for Nanami, believing it was pointless. You were his apprentice after all, a title almost similar to being his student, and it was a boundary you hadn’t been willing to cross. Nanami had helped craft your abilities after all, abilities you had been terrified of using, abilities that had plagued your entire life, that you wished you hadn’t been born with; until he had shown you how to use them for a higher purpose. 

It was an astonishing experience, developing a cursed technique, needing much hands-on instruction. Literally. Nanami would constantly adjust your hands, your stance, and your combat positions, tutting at you impatiently. You had felt like you were in a ballet academy under the care of a rigorous instructor, the type that would raise their student’s arms and chin and adjust their posture using the end of a cane.

He had started you off the same way that Gojo had done for Yuji, by channeling cursed energy into one of Principal Yaga’s creepy cursed dolls. The doll had given you a black eye that day, but you secretly blamed Nanami for that; you had been watching movies as instructed, the doll in your lap when he had come down to check on you. His deep gravelly voice cutting through the room unexpectedly had caused you to yelp, grip loosening on the doll, which had wasted no time in delivering a blow to your eye. 

It was humiliating, feeling like you had failed him on this simple task but he made you nervous. He always gave off an aura of needing perfection and his short, clipped way of giving instruction made you feel inadequate. Everything had been a blur of confusion as you leaned against the sofa, covering your eye and moaning in pain, hearing rapid shuffling footsteps, before Nanami had caught hold of the doll and shoved it into a containment box.

“Let me see.” With your good eye, you saw him leaning over you to check your face. You knew you were blushing but hoped it came off as embarrassment for being punched by the doll rather than the fact that your mentor - your unbelievably attractive mentor- was peering into your face at such close proximity. 

You had slowly removed your hand, the area around the eye swollen and tender. Nanami’s expression was strange, almost like he was trying not to laugh as he delicately laid his fingers at the edges of the starting bruise. “I did warn you not to lose concentration,” he said in an even tone, although it betrayed a wisp of amusement. “Go see Ieiri-San. I’m afraid you’ll be sporting a bruise for a while, but her reverse curse technique will take away the pain so at least you won’t feel it.” 

Your good eye had glared at him reproachfully. “I was doing fine until you startled me. I didn’t even hear you come in. We should put a bell around your neck.”

You thought you saw the corners of his mouth twitch slightly, almost like he was biting back the urge to smile. “Are you under the impression that curses wear bells around their necks, Y/n-San? Because if this is all it takes to startle you…you wouldn’t last a minute on a solo mission.”

His words had brought you back to the reality of the situation, the fuzzy feeling of being near him vanishing in an instant. Always teaching survival tactics, always telling you to run, always putting himself in the line of fire. It had driven you insane, how little self-preservation he had for himself. 

“Isn’t there anything that you would like to live for?” You had asked him one morning as you ate breakfast together before catching the train home, having finished a mission the previous night. He fixed you with a scrutinizing stare, whiskey-colored eyes narrowing as though puzzled by your question. 

“Like what?”

His response left you stumped. Did the man have no aspirations, no dreams, or wishes he wanted to be fulfilled? 

“Like what?” You had parroted back to him, an incredulous look on your face. “There are so many wonderful things about life! Don’t you have a survival bucket list?”

His lip was definitely curling now. Nanami never smiled completely, but the corners of his eyes would crinkle when something amused him, and you could see the lines deepening as he regarded your question, but his tone felt like an adult indulging a child. It was maddeningly patronizing, considering he was just three years older than you, yet he assumed himself to be too mature and aged for such whimsical questions. 

“A survival bucket list?” he practically scoffed. 

“Yes,” you said trying not to lose your patience with him, crossing your arms over your chest. “You know, a list of things you’d like to do if you ever had the time.”

“Do you have one?”

“Of course I have one! Most of us have one! Something to keep us going when all we see is death and destruction on a daily basis.”

The thought seemed to intrigue him but you couldn’t shake off the feeling like you were being snubbed. Which was why you were taken aback when he asked, “What’s on your survival bucket list?”

“Oh ah…” you tried to gather your thoughts as you spoke, not expecting that he would ask you. “Take a tour of Europe. Go on an African safari. Take scuba diving lessons. Try different pastries and sweets from all over the world.” You lists some of your top activities, then frown as Nanami in a rare moment, flashes you a grin, his teeth showing for a brief second before his face returns to its usual stoic state. 

“What?” You had asked almost impatiently. “Is my bucket list funny in some way?”

The blond man shakes his head no before speaking. “It’s not funny at all Y/n-san. I think it’s nice that you have these personal goals.” He says calmly, his voice carrying an unfamiliar lilt you had never heard before. 

Your irritation died down when you realized he hadn’t answered you yet. “Do you have one or not?” 

He looked thoughtfully at you before replying. “I used to. But it’s not as great as wanting to learn how to scuba dive or trying all the sweets in the world.” His tone changed into something wistful and nostalgic and it played with your heartstrings as you waited for him to continue. “My survival bucket list, if I can call it that, has only one goal. And that is to live long enough to retire.”

Your breath had caught and you waited for him to say more, hoping he wouldn’t shut off. Nanami rarely ever spoke more than what was necessary, but you longed to see more of this side of him, the parts of him that had nothing to do with sorcery. 

“Retirement isn’t something a lot of sorcerers get to experience. Most of them die young, and the ones that do survive have so many disabilities that doing anything later in life becomes impossible. If life is favorable to me, and I have all my limbs and mental health by that age, I would love to retire and spend the rest of my days in peace.”

“What does peace look like to you?” you had asked him in a hushed voice, feeling ecstatic about finding out these little details about him. 

“A beach, in a country with a low cost of living. Perhaps I’ll live right on the sand, a book in hand, and just take in all the sunshine.” His eyes had taken on a faraway quality, the whiskey color becoming more honeyed, little flecks of gold visible in his irises as though whatever he was thinking of had lit a candle inside him, illuminating his whole being. You could only stare, unable to comprehend how beautiful, how vulnerably human, he looked in that fleeting moment before it vanished behind an impenetrable curtain of indifference. “But that future is a very slim possibility. I don’t like building castles of air.”

The warmth that had settled in your chest dissipated, and you were left with the man you had grown used to; contained, jaded, pessimistic. 

“But what if it does happen?” You couldn’t stop yourself from asking. 

He let out a sound that could have been interpreted as a disbelieving chuckle. “Then I’d better think about using something more solid than air to build my castle.”

“Y/n-san?”

You’re jolted back to reality as Yuji hands you a tissue. You hadn’t even been aware that you were crying, tears rolling down your cheeks, eyes puffy and red.

“I’m sorry guys.” You dabbed at the tears. “Got lost in thought.”

“We all miss him, Y/n-san,” Yuji says comfortingly, but his voice trembles. “He was more than a teacher to all of us.” 

“And we’re still a team despite him being gone,” Ino says assertively and presses the takeout container into your hands. “Eat. You need to.”

You open it to reveal a breakfast sandwich, and although you don’t have much of an appetite, the thoughtfulness of the boys is so sweet that you don’t feel like setting it aside for later. Taking a bite, you try to distract yourself from your own feelings.

“So they weren’t able to recover Gojo from the prison realm?” you ask, trying to get off the topic of their deceased mentor. 

Ino shakes his head no, and you are relieved to see that most of his wounds from his fight with Ogami have healed, almost imperceptible to the eyes of a non-sorcerer, although there was a scar running down the left side of his face now.

“They’re doing a recovery throughout Shibuya station, but it’s mostly to pull items belonging to the people who died. You know, to return to their families.” Ino sighs and rests against the wall of your room. “They haven’t found Nanami-san’s blade yet.”

This bit of information is unexpected, and you look at him, then at Yuji who is also listening intently. 

“I mean…it probably got lost underneath all the rubble, right? It’ll turn up eventually.” You swallow, hoping the weapon wasn’t lost to the destruction of Shibuya Station. 

“I hope so. I’d imagine Nanami-san would want me to have it.” Ino sits down on the edge of your bed. Yuji however, gives him a look of disapproval. 

“Why do you get Nanamin’s weapon? I was his student too.”

“Yeah, but I trained under him the longest. By that right, it should come to me.”

“What if he has family? Wouldn’t it go them?” Yuji countered, trying to think of a reasonable argument for why Ino couldn’t simply lay claim to the blade.

“He didn’t have any family,” you say quietly, not really invested in the conversation. Ino and Yuji continued to debate, their conversation becoming indistinct buzzing to you as you finished your sandwich. 

“He was your teacher too Y/n-san,” Ino interjects suddenly, with a touch of surprise. “Why aren’t you more interested in who his blade goes to?”

“Because I knew how much he hated using it.”

Your words carry an intensity that makes them both quiet down instantly. As powerful and wonderful as his blade was, you knew your mentor’s distaste for using it. To him, it was a means to an end, no different than using a rifle or an axe. He used it for the sake of exorcising curses, but the blade itself carried no personal meaning to him. 

“Nanamin hated his blade?” Yuji asks in a small voice. The disappointment in his eyes had you quickly backpedaling.

“Not the blade itself. I think more so, what it represented for him. A life as a sorcerer. Of facing death every day, knowing this was his duty and he couldn’t escape it.”

Silence follows your words and you wish you hadn’t spoken. You hadn’t meant to put a damper on the boys’ spirits but you couldn't keep quiet either. They were young, in awe of their late teacher who must’ve seemed like a much older man, dispensing wisdom. But knowing how small your age gap was, and how much he hated this line of work, you found yourself compelled to make sure they knew what you knew; that Nanami Kento was a hard-working man, but he never found any joy in using his now legendary weapon at all. 

And unknown to them, you had already scavenged Shibuya Station after the emergency evacuation orders were put through. You hadn’t expected to find much, but somehow, through a stroke of luck, had found his tie, the obnoxiously yellow, polka-dotted tie, peeking through the broken cement and glass, stained with blood. His blood. 

You had yanked it out quickly and stuffed it into your pocket, a little secret you had been carrying around the last few days. It now lay under your pillow; you worried people would judge you for keeping it, for not washing it but somehow, you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. At night, you’d run the tie through your fingers, feeling the material slip smoothly through, the faint scent of his cologne still on it. You knew you would never be able to wash it until the last vestiges of that scent faded away. It was the only thing that brought you comfort, that and remembering the day you found out the history of the odd color and print of the tie.

The 4 four of you had been out at the amusement park, Ino and Yuji energetically running around from one ride to the next while you and Nanami had waited in line to grab food for everyone. As you sat waiting for the boys to come back, you had gathered courage and asked him a question that had been in the back of your mind since you became his apprentice.

“Nanami-san?”

“Hmm?” He had turned his focus towards you and you hoped he wouldn’t see the rising color in your cheeks. 

“Why do you wear that tie? It just doesn’t match the rest of your outfit.” You held you breath hoping the question wasn’t too personal. But the tie somehow paradoxically brought his outfit together and also threw it out of style. 

His expression had changed almost imperceptibly. If you hadn’t spent as much time as you did with him, you might not have noticed it. He rested his elbows on the picnic table, as though conflicted to admit what was going through his mind. Then with a sigh, he said, “It’s to remember an old friend.”

“An old friend?”

“A late friend, to be precise.”

Your heart tightened in your chest. A late friend? He had lost someone close to him? 

“It’s a funny story.” Nanami paused as though considering if he should tell you more, then continued. “My favorite show growing up as a child was The Flintstones.” 

You stared at him, but you couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped you which you suppressed immediately. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to say something like that.”

“Well, it was.” Nanami’s lips had twitched. “And my friend knew this. As a joke, he got me a tie that matched Fred Flintstone’s outfit.” Another pause, another sigh, as though the next part was difficult for him to say. “I never wore it until after his death. Now I always do, in remembrance.”

“I’m so sorry,” you had said in a low voice. “I didn’t mean to bring up such a sad memory for you.”

Nanami shook his head and looked away towards the Ferris wheel, where the boys had disappeared off to. “It was a while ago. I try not to dwell on it for too long.”

“Thank you for telling me,” you’d murmured. His face had softened as he looked at you, the rest of the world blurring from your vision until all that remained in focus was him, the sharp eyes, the high cheekbones, the straight nose, and the chiseled jawline. Barely 30, yet looking like even a few years of sleep wouldn’t wash away the exhaustion that emanated from his bones. 

“Even if Nanami-san disliked his weapon, it’s still useful to have.” Ino and Yuji were back to debating about the blade. 

You were about to reiterate that you wouldn’t fight them over the blade when suddenly a pale sea foam green light began to glow from underneath your pillow. Both the boys stop bickering, awestruck at the sight. With a trembling hand, you move the pillow, revealing the tie, and making Ino and Yuji draw closer in curiosity. The polka dots on the blood-stained tie were glowing, emanating a warm aura accompanied by a curious scent of lingering coffee.

“What…” You watch with fascination, then look up at Yuji and Ino, who are watching the scene unfold, wide-eyed and filled with wonderment.

“Is that Nanamin’s tie?” Yuji gets closer to the bed, unable to take his eyes away.

“Yeah…I’ve been holding onto it.”

“Is it cursed? Did Nanami-san leave some residual cursed energy when he…?” Ino eyes the tie warily but also speaks in a hushed tone of disbelief. 

You shake your head, the aura not feeling sinister to you. Rather, it felt familiar, like you had experienced it before, in those brief moments when Nanami’s eyes would crinkle from amusement…

You gasp and scramble off the bed as the dots begin to lift off the tie, a vignette of sea foam green surrounding each one. They float ethereally in the air, then, one by one start floating out of your room. 

“Wait!” Not caring that you’re in pajamas or that you’d been in bed for nearly two days, you chase after the dots, bolting out of the room barefoot, Ino and Yuji hot on your heels. People stared at you as you ran. You knew the group must look quite eccentric, the two boys fully clothed and decent looking, while you looked ratty and deranged, hair flying everywhere as you tracked the dots barefoot, not wanting to lose sight of them. 

Finally, the dots make their way into the large courtyard where Nanami would brief you about upcoming missions. They slow down and the trio halts, panting and out of breath. The light surrounding the polka dots brightens before they start arranging themselves into a fixed pattern, you, Ino, and Yuji watching perplexedly.

“Fred Flintstone”

“What?” Yuji looks bewildered. “Who’s that?”

“Isn’t that a cartoon character?” Ino asks, his generation just shy of the classic cartoons millennials had grown up on. 

You cover your mouth, trying not to jump to conclusions. “The Flintstones…”

Could it be? Was he…? You let out a strangled laugh of disbelief but yet, what else could it be?

“It’s Nanami-san!” you whisper, and as you do, the energy signature from the polka dots seems to envelop you, and you feel every small little detail you have ever memorized about him; the little marks that formed on the bridge of his nose when he took his glasses off after a mission, how he enjoyed a fresh pot of coffee in the morning, that little sigh of satisfaction he’d make after completing his daily crossword puzzle. 

Yuji and Ino look at you incredulously, but you have never been more sure of anything in your life. You look at them in the face, tears in your eyes, not from grief, but at how achingly comforting it was to be bathed in the glow of those polka dots. 

“Nanami-san is alive!” 

Animated lines and support banner by @cafekitsune

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@pernesophe

[danikamariewrites]

Hi! I’m in LOVE with your blog! Would you be able to write something with nessian x reader where the reader has just an awful no good day/week and maybe something small sets her off and they comfort her and calm her down? I have had a very bad week and I had a whole breakdown over dropping a pen lol and I wish they had been there to comfort me. Anyways, I hope you have an amazing day!!!

Just A Bad Day

Nessian x reader

a/n: They would be so sweet and caring, especially Cass my fav gentle giant☺️ also I’m so sorry this feels very boring/typical. I might take a break for a few days bc this slump is killing me.

warnings: slight angst

Slamming the front door an angry sigh escapes your lips. You head staright to your personal bedroom wanting space from your mates. If you saw anyone right now you might yell at them.

Not even bothering to take your boots off you flop on the bed face down. Grabbing your pillow you stuff your face into the feathery soft fabric letting out a blood curdling scream.

You screamed and screamed and screamed until there was no air left in your lungs. Until your throat burned. Throwing the pillow as hard as you could against the headboard you flop back down on the bed.

Why are people so difficult to deal with? Today made you never want to speak with the governors or the general public ever again. You don't know if you just weren't communicating properly or what. But everyone was stupid and deserves to have a bad day. Not you.

After an hour of laying in bed you decided your throat was tortured enough and that cold water was necessary. Making your way down the stairs Nesta and Cassian's mixed scents hit you. It didn't calm you or anger you. You felt nothing but the exhaustion slowly creeping into your bones.

Another sigh leaves your lips as you open the cup cabinet. Frowning, you realize the glass you want is on a higher than usual self. Not feeling like asking Cassian to get it for you you strech up on your tip toes, grasping at the edge of the shelf. As your mind wandered to Cassian's usual teasing remarks about your height you get angrier.

The glass was just out of reach. Just a hair's breadth away from your finger tip. Your nail finally catches on the glass, bringing it forward. You finally grasp it with between your fingers and pull it down.

The glass slips from between your pointer finger and thumb. Your other hand reacts thanks to your fae reflexes, landing safely in your palm. You turn on your heel a little too quickly, sending the glass flying out of your grasp. It hits the wall shattering far too loudly.

Your hands go to cover your ears instantly. Tears pricking your eyes. You try to tune out the muffled sounds of Cassian and Nesta’s worried voices followed by their footsteps. Your face quickly contorted in anger. Angry at yourself. At the fucking glass. At your mates.

Your fingers tug at your hair in frustration. Your eyes are so clouded by tears you don’t even see Cassian in front of you. He gently takes your hands in his large ones. Slightly pressing his thumbs into your palms to lessen the death grip on the roots of your hair.

“Hey,” he coos, “what’s going on sweet pea?” You don’t look at him. Keeping your eyes down so you don’t break at the look of pity on their faces. Nesta hooks a finger under your chin, pulling your face up to look at them. The sad frowns on their lips broke you. The last thing you wanted to do today was upset or disappoint your mates.

Nesta took in a sharp breath at the projection of your feelings through the bond. “Oh, sweetheart. We’re not upset with you at all.” She wraps her arms tightly around your shoulders, swaying you gently. At Nesta’s loving embrace you break down. Sobs shaking your body.

Cassian smoothed your hair talking you through your tears. “I’m sorry.” You choked out repeatedly through your sobs. After hearing enough Cassian pulls you into his arms to carry you upstairs. Sitting you in his lap you continue to cry into his chest.

Nesta finally joins she has the glass of ice water you’ve been dying for. Just like Cassian taught her Nesta began massaging the pressure point on the back of your neck. She wanted to do everything to prevent your eventual headache.

When your tears finally stopped you took deep shaky breaths. They were coming too fast making the simple task difficult. Cassian laid you flat on the sheets to give you space. “Slow down, y/n. In for five and out for five.” He began to breathe with you until you finally calmed down. “Thank you,” you whisper.

You grabbed their hands so they can hold you up. Nesta hands you the water which you immediately gulp down. The cool liquid soothing your throat. Once it was empty Nesta took it from your hand. You lean into Cassian, resting your hand against his chest. Your fingers toy with the old fabric of his shirt to ground you.

“What’s wrong, baby?” Nesta coos. You shake your head mumbling, “Just a bad day.” “Do you want to talk about it?” You sniffle and shake your head. “No. That cry was good enough, honestly.” A short humorless laugh escapes your lips. Cassian kisses the top of your head letting out a small hum in answer. “Let’s get you some dinner and relax, yeah?” You nod again. Cassian lifts you again, carrying you downstairs.

[kel-lance]

JJK Mafia Au (JJK x Reader) PART 3

Warnings:

- TW: Dead dove dont read (DDDR) Minors do not interact (MDNI): SA, Physical Assault, DubCon, NonCon, Mindbreak, Public Humiliation, Breeding, Ownership, Gaslighting, Multiple manipulation, RWORD, PTSD, a lot more toxic sh.

Premise:

Reader lives in a city where the two biggest gangs keep things line until the third gang showed up. That had nothing to do with you though, until dumb luck just happened to favor you one day. Basically You’re picked up and used by every dangerous criminal within the clans due to some alliances they had to create due to some members messing up the previous alliances. ((Almost everyone’s gonna have a turn 🤗)) ( i have 12 chapters planned out right now meaning after i write those ill still be writing more.)

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AN: Sorry for the long update im trying not to get evicted bc i was fired a while ago bc of a protest (surprise surprise big companies dont like or care about palestine or other places like it.) but i had to give away my cats and am still struggling i have my socials in my masterpost if you could help if not its okay ily

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You weren’t even conscious when you realized that you were still full of him. “Now he just thinks he can do as he pleases, oh my god, what a prick.” You were about to tell him off until he put his hand on your back. Stirring awake, Sukuna can feel as you tighten yourself around him. You realize you’re being stretched while laying upright on his chest. 

You don’t think opening your eyes right now would be a good idea. Mostly because you could hear other people nearby? Sukuna laughs as he feels your realization. You could only pray that this phone call ends soon, and glad no one could see how red you thought you were, as your skin was glowing hot.

The base of your spine and neck  were sore, like the rest of your body. Your back started to hurt, you needed more support. Sukuna caught this and moves you off of him, making a fwopping noise, and putting you back onto him with your back to him, like you wanted. But now you were facing his table, and he wasn’t on a phone call, you two were in a meeting. He was sat at the head, and quickly you catch a few pairs of eyes on you, your left hand grabs onto him and your right hides, your face.

“No way no way no way no way, oh my god,” You shook as Sukuna pushes himself into you. It was a lot, you could only throw your head down and cringe your face as this angle put pressure on another part of your sore body. 

You stifle your yelps, trying not to look at anyone sitting in front of you.  No one else is trying to look, most were red and blushing while the rest tried to ignore it. You didn’t need to be saved in this situation, but this was a worse way to wake up than not waking up at all. Your squirming had the leader release into you like it was nothing, his body and breathing stayed the same as he twitched violently inside of you. “He’s got to have done this before.” —————————————————————

“I couldn’t just leave you in that room. I needed all my men this morning, it was important.” Sukuna was talking out loud as he carried you to the infirmary. Now that everyone was free to go back to their posts, he wanted to bring you back to the twins to be able to go back to work. 

“So I’m left to guess, you’re really just a random citizen that I met in an alley way?” He asks as he approaches the doors. He looks down at your pouting self, embarrassed to hell and back about what he just did to you infront of 20+ people. 

Taking that as a yes, he heads in and instructs the girls to take care of you again. There are still no words spoken between you 3, not even the twins talked to each other, they can just telepathically communicate, adding to the creepiness they were embodying. You almost wanted to close your eyes and let them do what they needed to but this wasn’t a spa, and they weren’t happy with where they were currently. All you knew was that Sukuna was holding someone important to them hostage, and they were good nurses too so it seemed to be in Sukuna’s favor to have them all. After they finished, they gave you a few napkins w different pills on them, about 2-3 pills on each napkin. They finally spoke, explaining that each one would be for the next day in the morning and at night. You needed to rest and they would be busy, yet back to care for you randomly as they’re needed for the upcoming missions. 

After they leave, you’re left to just lay there and thing about last night. Was it really worth it? You acted out due to desperation, in your head you didn’t feel bad because he did it to you first, and worse things after that. You just wanted some relief and god you got more than 7 times worth last night. You added 2 more this morning as Sukuna fucked you in front of his people. 

You were briefly given time to think before the door opened suddenly, and a new man came in. It was one of your guards from the first few nights, you think he might be the one who fell asleep outside your door last night. You were still sat upright from what Nanako showed you to be the morning and nightly pills you were supposed to take. 

The strange man comes up to you with urgent speed, his hand finds itself around your face as he pushes you into the wall, your head pounding from the collision. “Why would you do that? Why did you do that? What the fuck is wrong with you?” His voice was high in dismay, eyes wild and pink hair like Sukuna’s. Speaking of which he looked so similar to him, the man in front of you had a kinder face, his eyes glowed red but his features were younger, softer. 

His fingers squeezed your face together like he was trying to ball it up. You could only raise your hands enough to try and push him away but your aching body was barely letting you move. His grasp spoke volumes, you just wished you knew what you did. Was he mad because you broke out? He didn’t look hurt or punished in anyway, so what was his problem?

“You fucking idiot.” He spat out, letting go of your face, he sits at the end of your bed with his head in his hands. Youre left to check on the bruises his fingers left on the sides of your face, not scared but apart of this new man who barged in, not knowing if Sukuna knew if he was with you currently. 

“What did I do?” 

“WHAT DO YOU THINK?!” The younger man was so upset you’d even ask. “Another few days and you would’ve been set free, I talked to him and we made a bet,” What was he taking about? “If you aren’t part of the other two gangs, that we’d let you go and he’d never bother you again, but if you were part of them, and especially if you broke out to do something stupid, we’d send your head back as a message.”

He throws his head back up to look at you. “I already know you’re not part of this, but why the fuck did you do that last night?” 

He could be anybody, it didn’t matter if they looked similar. You weren’t about to make more trouble so you decided you weren’t going to tell him anything. You could only trust the people he assigned to you. “Listen dude, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about-“ 

“Of course you don’t!” He slammed his fist into the bed. “You could at least play along to get out of this! Ughhhh.” He groans further into his hands. “At this rate everything could go to shit.” He grabs your hands from your face and holds them in his, looking you square in the face. He stares at you for a second, examining your expression and the bruises his older brother inflicted on you. “What you did could have trapped you here forever, but you deserve a life of freedom, especially since you were dragged in this by accident.” He squeezed your hands tightly. “But seeing how you acted last night… Seriously do u want to die?”

You were pissed, how was it your fault? Why did you have to explain yourself in this situation? “He started it.” You huffed. The man’s hands let you go, reeled back, and backhanded you across the face, having you hit the wall behind you. “This isn’t a game. I’m gonna have to set you free myself.” He rips the blanket off from you and climbs on top. His large body has you immobile, and he wasted no time. He pulled apart your robes, flipped you around, and spat in-between your legs, taking his already hard on and smearing the spit around with his head before stuffing himself in, not caring if he covered himself fully or not. 

The sudden entered had you scream into the pillow, writhing as the dry skin hooked at you from the inside. What was going on, is this allowed? You had so many questions. Living through another rape was nothing, living through another beating, just to still end up alive, you couldn’t be worried, you were more bothered that everyone was just doing what they wanted to you. Much to your surprise, this man who invaded your body, he stopped moving once he was fully in you, and he started to whimper. 

The noises he was making weren’t something that should be coming out of a violent gang member, you would’ve never thought you’d witness something like that, much less actually feeling him start to slowly sob as he lets himself go, coating your walls inside, pressing himself deeper in, his dick twitching consecutively as his chest caved in and his voice wavered, trying to break out of the choke in his throat. 

You were more confused than anything. Being used as an object, okay whatever, but why is he crying?? You hated people like that, it’s not up to them in this situation to feel that way, but whatever, he was done right? What was his deal? Now you were going to need another shower. 

Sighing and shuttering, you were still regaining yourself from hitting the wall and the injuries his hands inflicted just minutes before, the shock of it all just put fear on the back burner. No, you couldn’t be scared of men, you were only angry. 

“I- I’m sorry.” He managed. “I’m so sorry.” It wasn’t like he had realized what he did was wrongs but that he had to do that. “My brother, he doesn’t like to share, rather, he hates me so if I touch anything of his-“ 

Once again the door swings open. The man still inside of you is frozen, and youre still facedown into the bed, but you can only guess who it was. “You’re wrong, Yuuji.” 

Yuuji slides out of and covers himself while sitting beside you. Raising your head, you watch to see how this new situation was going to play out. You only got that this brat was throwing a tantrum over his older relative, and he was trying to act equally as cruel, but the truth was surprising. 

“You really thought they wanted to leave? I told you about them, and you asked yourself to guard them bc you believed they wouldn’t try anything…” He walks in further to taunt his sibling. 

All you could do was watch. Yuuji, being the big guy he was, looked like he shrank in size as his brothers footsteps led him closer to your bed. Sukuna had reeled his fist back and sent Yuuji flying back, knocking into the next bed around. 

“You see Yuuji, I was starting to like this one, but you’re right, sharing isn’t really my thing.” He walks closer to you now, his aura would be enough to choke anyone up, and his eyes glowed, not like anything you’ve seen before. “That’s why I’m going to surprise you all today. I’ll share. I’ll be as generous a guy as you couldn’t believe… COME IN!” 

His words were instructed as a group of people walked in the door. It was a few men, and one woman. Only two paid Yuuji’s back hand some mind while the rest stood at the end of your bed. Sukuna’s at your side now, trying to figure out how to be gentle and play with your hair, but only managed to pick it up and toss it out of your face. 

Someone from the group groaned, he was a taller man but around the same age as Yuuji. He was huge, buff and with a wild ponytail, to be honest he looked as equally scary as Yuuji and Sukuna combine if that made sense. Sukuna points him out, “Ever since Todo brought you to our attention, Yuuji just couldn’t help himself. He actually wanted you first.” He looked back at his glaring relative, “And I would have let him have it too if you didn’t break into my room last night.” He pulls you to him, his eyes eating up the sight of you before the feast. “Was it worth it Yuuji?”

Yuuji tries to get up and lunge at Sukuna but Todo and someone else hold him back. “Keep holding him, I’m gonna show him how badly he failed.” The large man picks you up, flip you around and splay you legs out, exposing you to the rest of the room. You can’t fight much, letting them see Yuuji’s remnants leak out of you.

“Yuuji, we’re not gonna stop until you finish, too.” That’s when you really looked up, there were six other people in the room with you, and what sucked was that you knew he was serious. “You might even be the dad, that’s the only way how I’ll let you have her.” Though you were in his arms just hours before, even had spent the night with him, yet now you’re squirming away. He grabs your bruised cheeks and shows you the line.

“Who wants to go first?” What do you even think in this situation? Were you scared? Were you ready? Were you angry? Would you adapt? Or would you freeze? It all didn’t matter, you didn’t get any time to think about how you were feeling for even a minute after they started.

A man with messy dark hair stepped forward. His dead eyes and face tattoo made him look so pretty, along with all the jewelry, brought out by his cool yet mean look. “Choso! Not a surprise; Hurrying to not hurt Yuuji?”

“I have shit to do.” He growled back to Sukuna. Coming forward he takes you away from the older man, pushing him adjacent the crowd. Driving right in, he kisses you roughly and climbs on top of you. His hands find their way up your torso, pulling your body closer to his, you’re basically a toy to him.

Because it was so sudden, you couldn’t really respond quick enough to hold him off. At this point there was really no fighting it. You sure did try, and you could but you thought with this group, they’d just get off on it. Knowing Sukuna, just meeting his brother, and now their other “brothers” are just here to try you out, especially remembering that they’re the new gang that pushed the Kamos out.

The large man has pushed you back into the bed, putting his weight on your legs as he completely buries you. Remembering that you’re fully naked now, your body goes into flight mode, all you can try to do is flail or move your face away but Choso has more control of your body than you did.

“Choso, you’re doing it wrong.” The woman chimes in. Walking over to critique his abrasive actions, the blonde comes from across the room to the side of the bed next to you two.

Choso parts his face from yours to groan into your chest. “We gotta hurry up…”

“I get that, but this is a break! And a great one at that,” she turns around and gives Sukuna a thumbs up.

“What the fuck? Why is she in on this?” The blonde lady was scaring you more than the men, it was like she was having fun just being invited.

“Here Choso, like this.” She nudges him off of you, and picks you up by the arms to sit you on her lap. Her muscles bulged, she made it look so easy picking you up like that. Your legs wrapped around her waist, as there was no other way to position yourself comfortably. She places her hand on your back as she brings you closer. “Good girl.”

You could only blush as her other hand found its way across your hip, caressing you up and down that sends a shiver down your spine. She kisses at your beck and teases your ear lobe so much your hips start to move on their own. She catches you with her fingers, plunging two deeply in you. “See? She’ll come right to you if you do it right.”

She has you sitting back pressed up against her, her changing movements kept you excited from her unpredictability. Digging her fingers deeper, she twirls them around to spread around Yuuji’s kids within you, not letting anything spill out. The only reaction you were strong enough to let go was just uncontrollable moaning. She has you in such a mess that you could only be vocal.

She takes out her fingers and uses the wet to flick at your clit, holding you down with each jolt and spasm the lady got out of you. “Kamo Jr.~ come ‘ere.” She calls to someone across the room.

“Stop fucking calling me that.” Finally, the last man you hadn’t observed yet started to make his way towards you, his hair was cut short and neat, but his face was stone cold. That comment riled him up enough to have him start unbuckling his pants.

“You act like you hate it~.” The woman caresses your body, making a display for the upcoming man. “I got her all ready for ya, so give us a show..”

You lol your head up and hold onto her forearm for support, looking up at ‘Kamo Jr.’ who was standing between your legs. This was the closet you’ve come to regain control in this situation, just being conscious enough to know who was next, you could only hope your mind erases and forgets it all.

“C’mon Kamo, you need to let your anger out…” She spreads your lips apart while her other hand moves your head enough to expose your neck. “And Sukuna’s given us a treat.”

Kamo stood there silently, upset wasn’t even the word for it. It looked like he was holding himself back for a while, considering that they broke up his family with recent discoveries. He was the promised heir, that idea was now thrown out the window the second sukuna killed his father.

He just learned that Choso was alive too, another rogue from the family who was stronger, smarter, older, etc. His future fell apart in seconds, and he hadn’t a moment to take it all in as they started bossing him around as one of the heirs of the top three gangs in the area. He just couldn’t catch a break really.

When he got to the bed, he gripped your thigh so hard he moved your entire body towards him in one movement. Your thoughts of his fingertips leaving bruises was quickly dropped to your stomach as he pressed himself onto you.

“Jesus fuck, what’s in their DNA why are all these dudes so hung?” Your poor mind and pussy, you really couldn’t continue this session if you wanted to keep the last peace of mind you had. You couldn’t lie though, the blonde lady’s tactics really did help to relax you, but knowing she’s just there to help them get off makes you still anxious about her.

This new guy though, as cold as Choso, was quick about it. He pulled himself out of his pants, only exposing what he needed as to say “Let’s get this over with.” Finally peering down at you, his eyes were almost dead until the lady brought up his anger. His remaining family was taken hostage and was released when Kamo offered to help Sukuna in exchange for their lives.

This was probably the last thing he could have wanted. Given his situation, with no other options, literally commanded to do something morally and ethically wrong, there was just so much going on in Kamo's head while he roughly repositioned you. To be honest it didn't seem like he was paying much attention until he realized he had pushed himself inside.

His mind was engulfed by only things he couldn't control, to now groaning due to the sudden change of overstimulation. Obviously you couldn't do much, but being on your back, spread out and being quickly devoured by the crowd invited, you had just a moment, a quick second to regain your senses and be in control. The last thing you remembered was Kamo starting to pick up speed, making your whole body involuntarily start to shake from each stroke, while the blonde woman brought her lips to yours and told you to eat.

The sequence of events went like this, Kamo fucked the shit out of you, basically blacked out when it started to really take off. As you struggled to stay focused on helping Yuki, Choso came to join, while all you could offer him was a hand, he pushed Yuki out of your face and shoved himself down your throat.

As Choso roughly played with you as he facefucked you, tugging your hair back and slapping your cheeks to feel the vibrations inside, Yuki snaked her way down to help pleasure/torture you more as Kamo was getting all his allowed frustration out. If you could get a glance at Sukuna, he would be smiling proud, you didn't know if it was because he was proud of his family, maybe even you for being good enough to satiate them, or maybe it was even just the thought of being in control once again.

If you got a glance at Yuuji, he would be looking away or have some weird look on his face. Was it pity? Was it sorrow? Regret? What was with this guy? "He called dibs." What is that supposed to mean, there's literally no common factor between us, so why would he really be feeling this way?

Choso started to bruise you throat, Kamo and Choso both ramming into you from opposite ends, basically using you for their anger, it was honestly becoming the best fuck of your life. It almost couldn't matter anymore, you were already getting fucked crazy with another man's cum lubricating the next man's round. Seriously if they didn't get you pregnant by now, the next set of people surely would.

[harrywavycurly]

Does Gareth know we are seeing Eddie on the side?? Does he care?? I don’t wanna hurt him🥺🥺😢

Hiii lovey!! So to answer this I figured I’d just give you a little conversation between you and Gareth when y’all first meet! I hope you enjoy💖

- find all things Secret Rendezvous here✨

“Is someone sitting here?” “Huh?…ohh uhm uh…no…no one is uh sitting-” “so it’s okay if I sit here?” “Yeah that’s fine…uh welcome to…detention.” “Thanks…I’m not here for detention this is part of my community service requirement for cheer.” “Sitting in detention is…considered community service?” “I wish I’d have all my time done by now but no…I’m technically here to help Mrs. Thomas cut out her lamination but this is the only room a teacher is supervising in and I’m gonna need a signature when I’m done so..here I am.” “Oh that…makes more sense…do you bring those everywhere with you?” “Bring what?” “Your uh stringy…things.” “My Pom Poms? No I just have practice after this and they get all squished in my backpack so it’s easier to just carry them.” “Oh right…yeah that…also makes sense.” “You know I’m glad someone around here thinks I make sense…what’s your name?” “Sorry I’m Gareth.” “Nice to meet you…I like your vest.” “Thanks…uh do you need help with…cutting stuff up?” “I’d love some but then I’d feel guilty about taking the credit….but thanks for offering.” “No problem.” “You’re friends with Eddie aren’t you?” “Eddie? You…you know Eddie? I mean not shocking I feel like everyone kinda knows-” “can I let you in on a little secret?” “Sure….yeah that…would be fine.” “I know Eddie really…reallyyyyy well.” “Oh…ohhhh okay…uh…wow.” “But he doesn’t wanna be friends or seen with me.” “What? That…doesn’t make sense why wouldn’t he want to be seen with you?” “I’ll cause rumors and stuff or at least that’s what he says…even though he causes enough rumors about himself without any help from me…oh you can’t tell him I told you okay? Or anyone for that matter or I’ll have to kick your ass or something equally as painful.” “Don’t worry your secret is safe with me…I’m sorry though…he kinda has this thing where he knows people assume the worst from him so he just kinda puts on this act that makes everyone feel like their assumptions about him are right…when in reality he’s a huge softy and isn’t scary.” “He’s a softy? Really?” “Oh uh don’t…tell him I said that.” “Don’t worry…your secret is safe with me…thanks for letting me spill my secrets out to you.” “Uh yeah no…no problem…uhm I know this is like…weird but would you wanna…hang out sometime?” “Sure.” “Yeah?…cool…not like the same kinda hanging out that you and Eddie do though I’m just…uh meaning like…friends.” “I understand don’t worry…here take my number and text me sometime.” “Okay…I’ll do…that.”

[ihavewierdobsessions]

HxH dating head canons multi character💪

Featuring Kurapika, leorio and chrollo

I an severely dyslexic guys so stfu😝

My friends r bullying me for writing these but the day i let mean comments get to me is the day i die.

Kurapika

let’s be honest guys he would not have time for a relationship.

I bet hé tell himself that but ends up falling for you anyway.

He is the most gentle person and so caring that you would question if he’s even real (lol)

He’s reaching out a hand to help you when you step down from a high place.

or he’s carrying you when your feet gets tired after a long date night with him out in the city.

But y’all let’s face it.

The whole thing with the phantom troupe would take up so much of his time that you would think that he forgotten all about you.

and he had on multiple occasions but then snapped back to reality with a “Oh no i forgot to text them back again.”

He feels really bad that you have to live through his issues and he has tried to end things because of that.

“It isn’t you…it’s me” aah guy.

But here, he cares for you very deeply and would want anything to happen to you. when things gets rough and he disappears for a while just be patient and he’ll come back.

It’s not easy but hey we all got fucked up problems we don’t like to face. he just happens to have a lot of it.

Leorio

I’ll hold your hand when i say this. He’s perfect! Get married now and get HIM pregnant. i’m sorry.

I’m normal abt him.

He’s a great guy to be with.

he’s not very experienced but nether am I

Y’all probably met in med school and hit it off from there.

When he falls he falls hard.

He will fight anyone that says anything slightly mean to you (he’ll prolly loose but it’s the thought that counts)

He loves physical touch and can not sleep without holding you in some way.

When y’all have sleepovers (before you move in together) You always fall sleep holding onto his waist as he reads a book before eventually going to bed.

Study dates all the time.

Breakfast on bed.

Y’all are gonna be thing 1 and thing 2 because he will only shut up if you tell him too.

Chrollo

Wow uhm

I wanna bite ahold of him and not let go.

He’s surprisingly gentle when it comes to you.

He treats you like some delicate flower.

Soft smiles and gentle touches.

He keeps you far away from the troupe.

But if you’re in the troupe with him then your relationship is secret when everyone’s there.

He can grow distant sometimes and it’s hard to communicate with him but y’all figure it out.

I dont havé much in him cuz i’m just sure he’ll be manipulative but hey no one’s perfect.

[baileylockheart]

Stuck.

Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I feel like I'm in a weird spot. I wish that I wanted to fall in love, but I don’t truly want that. I mean, it's still the fastest way to verbalize it, but what I think I really want is just... Emotional closeness and physical but non-sexual touch. I don't want to be in a romantic relationship with someone. I want deep trust and communication and understanding without guilt or anxiety or fear of being abandoned, and I struggle to picture any of those things in a romantic way. But I've never really been close enough to my friends to see it platonically either, so I'm just stuck.

I feel the want to want someone, and I feel it strongly, but it's more like wanting a piece of a stranger’s soul and hoping they'll take mine, because I know full well I can't imagine anyone in my life that way, and I can't imagine myself being physically near anyone without feeling uncomfortable. It makes me sick to even try to picture myself in love, especially since I realized that I have never once loved a person (in that way). When I think about what I want, I can’t imagine any one person, so all I end up wanting is a stranger who, for all intents and purposes, doesn’t exist. I don’t want a perfect person by any means, that’s not what I mean when I say this. Rather, even if this person does exist, I don’t know them yet, but already knowing them is a vital part of how I picture them.

I call myself aego-demiromantic because it joins a truth and a hope. I mean, if I’m being honest, I’m probably just aego with a dash of cupio, but I'll deny it as long as I can. The truth, aego, is that I can't picture myself in anything romantic, and any attempts to make me uncomfortable, but looking at fiction and using OCs is easy. The hope, demi, is that the reason I don’t feel romantically pulled to anyone is because I haven’t met them yet, but I'll eventually meet someone and make friends with them. Actual, close friends, who are there for each other and aren’t afraid to talk to or even annoy each other. And after that, then maybe, just maybe, I might get a chance at really loving someone in the way that people mean when they say the word “love”. And maybe that's the point. I don't want to fall in love, but I want to love someone. I want someone to mean enough to me that I'm willing to actually let them see me. I want to be able to care about someone enough that I trust them to stay. I want to feel loved and fulfilled because they're in my life - not because they check boxes or because they carry out tasks, but because their presence in my life really means something.

The problem with that is, people who want to date? They want to date. From what I can see, especially in early stages, there is no hanging out at each other's houses and playing video games, there is no sitting in comfortable silence and knowing it's okay not to talk, there is no taking turns rambling about the things you’re passionate about, there is no getting to just exist together and feel good because you add to each other's lives intrinsically. People want outings, active social interaction, maybe something to brag about. And sure. Outings can be nice. But even then, from what I've observed, people aren't looking for a trip to an amusement park where you take turns picking out what to do and enjoy every minute, or going to Dave & Buster's and playing all the games as many times as you can manage, or hanging out at an empty playground while you blast music and pretend to know the names of the stars you're gazing at. No, people want an expensive dinner that you have to dress up for, maybe sex, and then a kiss goodnight as you walk away from each other because the interaction is now complete. A good morning text would be appreciated, but while no one wants to listen to long-winded rambles, everyone will be mad if you don’t text first.

I know that I’m oversimplifying this in a terrible sort of way - I’m framing romantic relationships extremely negatively, and even if I wasn’t, queerplatonic relationships exist. But the problem is that I don’t think that covers it for me. A non-romantic relationship that has a stronger bond than the best of friends? I would do anything for that, don’t get me wrong. I want that. But the non-romantic part doesn't always sit right with me. I think I want to love someone romantically - but I know that the obsessive nature of new romantic love, how quickly romantic relationships crumble, how deeply it seems to tie in with sex, the way people tie their entire identities to their romantic partner, and the way that it’s so easily exploited by everyone from said partner to their families to even the government, that I’d never be able to maintain it. I want to love someone romantically, but I can’t bear the thought of it because of all the strings that are attached to it.

Still, that seems simple enough, yes? “I want to love someone romantically, but I can’t bear the thought of it because of all the strings that are attached to it.” And yet, if you asked me five months ago, I would’ve gagged at the thought.

For as long as I can remember, I have had “crushes” from time to time, and by “crushes”, I mean hyperfixations on how people present themselves, but no deeper interest in any part of them that didn’t fit that image. Once I became aware of this, I realized that I’d never actually been romantically interested in a person before, I just didn’t know how else I could surround myself with my hyperfixation. The more I looked at love and relationships, the more I realized that I would absolutely hate being in one. The more love songs I listened to to try to counteract this, the more I felt like romantic love was damaging because clearly, if people feel this strongly, they must be so reliant on their partner that they can’t imagine existing as an individual. The general sentiment was, “why would I subject myself to this sort of mental anguish on purpose?” I couldn’t figure out why people would want to flood their brains with stress hormones and lose rational thought for someone who wouldn’t even treat them well. In my head, the relationships that worked out with all parties happy were a severe minority. Of course, if those involved were happy, I’d be ecstatic for them - it just wasn’t something I typically imagined happening. As much as I thought it was fun to pair up fictional characters, as much as I had reformed my ability to enjoy love songs, and as much I supported those around me who were happy in their relationships, I was genuinely disgusted by the idea of falling in love for myself.

That is, until about five months ago, when an argument with a parent led to the simple idea that I can’t express my thoughts on something that I haven’t experienced. That led to probably the most emotional week of my life, and the general consensus was that I’ll never be able to understand love or heartache unless I go through them firsthand. I hated that intensely. What do you mean? Are you trying to tell me I can’t empathize with my friend who’s trying to recover from a breakup? Are you saying I can’t get chills when I see someone tear up while singing about wanting to be in love again? How does that work?

Ever since then, I’ve been constantly in this loop of wanting to love someone more than anything but not wanting to touch romance in its current state with a ten foot pole. I wish it was as simple as “I want to love someone romantically, but I can’t bear the thought of it because of all the strings that are attached to it”, but the truth is that I can’t even tell if this yearning for the ability to yearn is really me, or just a fabrication borne out of spite. It hurts enough that I think it’s real, but I have no solid way to check. Do I want to want to fall in love, or am I pretending in an attempt to understand the world? I can’t tell, and that scares me.

If a stranger asked me if I want to fall in love someday and framed it as a yes or no question, I’d probably say yes. It’s the easy answer to cling to because it feels so much better and so right in comparison to just saying no, and it would also be far easier to deflect judgement that way. It seems like the default answer, right? And yet, I don’t think it’s true. I want to care about someone. I want to be close to someone. I want to love someone. Somehow, despite all of that, I feel like it would be disingenuous to claim that it’s because I want to fall in love, and even more so if I say it's because I have a lot of love to give. I have the capacity for it, I have to believe I do, but the amount of love sitting there and waiting for someone to find it is shallow at best because I don’t even know if it’s meant for a person or an idea that I made up to make myself feel better. Still, I think that how I phrased it in an old Threads comment actually explained it far more succinctly than this entire explanation of said comment ever could’ve.

“I wish I wanted to fall in love because as much as it would hurt, everything would make so much more sense that way”.

[tvlipsandbread]

Today I read Song of the Magdalene, thanks to my friend (ily Lee <3), anyways, it’s a “Christian novel” but it’s a fictional piece. It entails of the adventures, love and tragedy of Mary Magdalene before she met Jesus. Obviously we have no clue what her life was like, but the book was interesting nonetheless and a good read. So if you already planned to read it at some point here’s a spoiler alert.

So basically the part of the book that consumes my thoughts is the relationship between Miriam ( Mary) and her love interest Abraham. Abraham is cripple, unfortunately the religious people of those times did not view it as an illness or disability, instead they dubbed him an idiot ( he was very intelligent) and cursed, or plagued by evil. Miriam also discovered and hid the fact that she experienced “fits” (she had epilepsy, I think). Anyways they fell in love, and religious or not I think it’s a type of love anyone would want.

Bear with me as I try to get to my point. Her father is rather wealthy, she’s of “age”(she was fifteen💀) and she needs to get married, she’s expected to get married to a proper Jewish man. She’s very independent and unlike the other women in her village, she also has the seizures which she keeps a secret from the majority (which makes her undesirable and not a proper fit,her words not mine). She wants to marry Abraham, but he’s cripple, it would look bad, they aren’t even sure if it was possible to conceive children in the union. So she decides she’ll never marry. Her relationship with Abraham blossoms despite this. In the latter part of the book he gets sick, and everyone in the household can tell that he’ll die. They kiss, sleep side by side, she takes care of him, she’s washed his body, oiled his feet yadda yadda, and it’s suggested that they had sex because she does end up carrying his child. He ends up dying, and her father is on edge about the pregnancy, he didn’t want his grandchild to be a “bastard”. He wished more than anything that Abraham pulled out the ring before he died, that they made their union official and public, forcing the community to accept them, it never happened. I don’t know the exact quote word for word, but Miriam says something kinda like this “married in the eyes of the creator” and calls him her husband.

Now, if anyone even sees this, I know some members of the faith might have something to say about it. It put the whole meaning of marriage in a new perspective for me. Can two people be married before they’ve actually gotten married?. I’ve never been in love so what do I know, but let’s say two people are in love, it’s a pure, honest love that’s pleasing to God. Is it possible (both partners are of faith) that God could bless the union, and accept it as a marriage, even without the ring, or the vows, or the ceremony. I would like to think so. Based on my knowledge, marriage in a spiritual point of view is not about any of those things, isn’t it the joining of two souls under the watchful eye of the Creator?. I’m sure this has been said or discussed before, I just wanted to type my thoughts.

Edit: their relationship kinda reminds me of the song fragile by laufey

[lets-talk-spirituality]

Belonging

I have my Chiron (astrological element that indicates where there is a strong chance to heal wounds in this life) in 11th house Virgo and throughout my life I have had wounding around community and group belonging. When I moved to Hawai’i, this changed. It’s a cliche here that people move here and feel at home and part of community, but it truly does feel that way to me. Over the past few months, I have been going through relationship boot camp, learning basic relating skills and what friendship and showing up consistently looks like. I have healthier friends now and it’s requiring me to confront my lack of capacity for relationships, teaching me how to grow and expand and allow myself to care deeply about more people, to allow others to care and know me. It’s challenging at times trusting and confronting how I am perpetuating my own separateness and I have to fight through discomfort to reach the intimacy I want.

Lately I’ve been reflecting on belonging as it was always something I’ve craved. I feel I have it now but it still feels like it’s illusive and I’m reflecting on why that is.

Where does the feeling of not belonging come from?

Part of my lack of belonging is rooted in my inability to actually ground myself fully in the present, to take up space, to bring energy to the table and to connect. It takes energy to be present and I found myself being on my phone when I was with my friends. I’d crave having people around to be around them and checked out.

Why? Socializing feels very intense and scary to me because of these feelings I carry about not belonging. Every time I felt slightly awkward or rejected I retreated to the comfort and acceptance of my phone instead of sitting with the reality of relating (it is a weaving not a continuous stream). My friends weren’t rejecting me when they don’t respond. I only felt that because I already felt a lack of belonging inside. No one can make you feel what you don’t already have within you. Because in more confident moments when I do feel I belong, I see it for what it is. Just a moment in conversation.

Belonging and Enmeshment

I’m starting to reflect on what parts of me are parts I’m meant to save for myself and parts I can safely share with others. Because those pauses don’t always show rejection— they may show where I should create a boundary. When you grow up enmeshed you think people need to know everything, that everyone can and should be able to be everything to you. As you heal and understand capacity you learn that you can get your needs met with more people and that you don’t always need them met so deeply. You only craved that deepness to that level because you were taught to give everything of yourself. That is where the loop began. Your parents learned that same suffering. You were never meant to give everything to anyone. So when people didn’t toxically give all of themselves to you, you didn’t see it as them showing you boundaries you needed for yourself, you saw it as a rejection of your desire for closeness. You saw it as unequal give and take. You wondered why can’t they get as deep and close as I can, not why do I feel I have to get so deep to be loved, why do I feel I have to get so deep to feel safe. You didn’t see their ability to meter out intimacy so it can grow healthily as a strength, but as a painful proof that there were never seeds to begin with. What I’ve learned here is that so many of us mourn illusions we hold because we live in a world of mirrors. To be within a group and feel alone, it’s not because you are depressed and fucked up, it’s not because the group doesn’t like you or want you there unless they specifically said so, often it is because you are still learning the lines between self and other, and that’s okay. To feel alone can feel safe because you feel like a self, to feel fully one with a group can be scary and you can become lost to group think. There’s a balance. Isolation to stay a self and enmeshment to belong are two halves of the same coin, a lack of boundaries surrounding what makes you a separate self. Those boundaries are made of core beliefs, things you’ve made for yourself and grown for yourself. When you’re young you lack boundaries so often because your walls are so short you can’t see them. There’s still so much your building for yourself you can’t even see the reason to protect it. Can’t even see it’s worth yet.

Misdirection

What I’ve also realized is that the concept of belonging is misleading. Belonging doesn’t exist without “I”. Belonging refers to the container of connection and energy that comes about when many loved ones are gathered together. If you are somewhere it is because you belong there and you belong there until you feel it is time to leave. My friends here, island living has shown me this. When the group dissipates, that connection dissipates, because belonging is a feeling that the group creates together. Connecting isn’t effortless, it takes showing up. We act as if connecting should always be effortless but to connect deeply is effort. I’ve had beautiful camping experiences but they didnt miraculously happen. Each of us brought something to make the party memorable even if it ended up just being ourselves. To be inside of a group and feel you don’t belong is an illusion of separation.

My one friend will always ask “feeling the pull?” When we’re both kinda feeling like it’s time to leave somewhere and I love that idea. It’s not leaving as much as being pulled somewhere else. Leaving isn’t as much about not wanting to be somewhere as much as it’s about wanting to be somewhere else more or being needed somewhere else. Life is all about preferences and choices and none of it is personal. It’s taken me a long time to feel these things and understand these things.

Things only exist because they exist

The energy of feeling a lack of belonging within a group only exists because someone feels a lack of belonging. That’s what people mean by your energy creates your reality. I live in a magical place and have the privilege to see these things so clearly because I’m around highly sensitive people all the time and I can watch them react to energy. When you feel you don’t belong people pick up on that. They don’t “avoid” you because of it, they give you space because they know it’s intuitively part of your process and job to know you already belong and they are there waiting for you to join in with them. Your feeling of lack of belonging is your emotion to manage. They are allowing you to see where you are blocking your own self from fully showing up with them. This space to reflect is actually a gift and not a rejection. The idea of gate keeping doesn’t actually exist. That’s why I’ve been in “dangerous” places and been fine. I belonged there and no one messed with me. Why? Because I brought the energy of belonging with me

What we mistake as our own lack of belonging is really just the collective pieces of energy from each person in that group. Our rejected, lower vibrational things that we work to clear out come to groups with us. We come together to clear our collective wounds, we all bring it and lay it down and what you feel not belonging isn’t you, but the pieces of all of us we’ve outgrown. They don’t belong anymore which is why you feel relieved and good a lot of the times after you let loose with friends.

How could you ever need to belong when we are all one? To be is to be a part of

[hush-writes-preg]

i’ve been wanting to say this for a while, and im still not sure i’m gonna say it right, but i really appreciate your blog. i’ve been having issues with my ovaries for a while and it’s still not clear if i’m fertile or even gonna get to Keep my ovaries much longer. it’s been really stressful, because i really want to be able to get pregnant, and i might never be able to. but one of the worst parts is that i’m transmasc, and a lot of people- including my own family- can’t wrap their heads around being a man and wanting to be pregnant. even other transmascs seem to think i can’t actually be trans and genuinely want this. people pity me cus they think Society is what made me feel this way, and they have to “help” by convincing me this is something i don’t actually want.

you and all your followers have been the opposite of that. seeing so many other transmascs who openly (and sometimes desperately) want to experience pregnancy has made me feel like so much less of an other. seeing people who aren’t transmasc but have transmasc friends/partners being so encouraging and supportive when this is something they want has felt so validating. it’s such a positive and welcoming environment here, and it’s so comforting.

so i guess the main takeaway is everyone should keep being horny, because there’s at least one person who really appreciates it.

Hey there, Aster! Thanks for hopping into my inbox with your kind words! 💖

I've said it before, and I'll continue saying it long into the future for old and new followers alike-- this blog exists because I believe that everyone deserves the opportunity to feel appreciated, validated, and seen in regard to this kink. I don't care what parts anyone was born with, what parts anyone has now, or what anyone's age(18+)/gender/sexuality is. Anyone can feel the desire to be pregnant or to impregnate someone else, and that feeling should be celebrated.

I'm sorry to hear that you've had so much trouble with your original plumbing, Aster, and that you aren't sure if you'll be able to conceive. That's a really shitty situation to be in when you actually want to get pregnant. I've known a few people on Tumblr who are in similar health-related situations, and I just wish I could give all of you a big hug (if it's wanted). It's really not fair. The universe is pretty shit for allowing that to happen in the first place. But you're not alone, okay? I don't know how much comfort that offers you, but there are folks out there who commiserate, understand what you're struggling with, and hope that you'll be able to eventually find happiness regardless of what happens.

And yeah... family and society can suck big time sometimes. OFC you can't be male and want to carry a child, right? /s In my opinion, those people are nothing more than gatekeepers who have no business being involved in your body and business. The knowledge that these kinds of opinions are so commonplace really pisses me off. The desire to procreate is a ridiculously ordinary (though not universal) part of being human, so why shouldn't anyone be allowed to use the parts they have to make a baby if they want to? Or be allowed to find other reasonable ways to make it happen? :throws-table.gif:

Ugh. I'll get off of my soapbox now.

All that said, if the space I'm nurturing and the community we're all building is one of support, encouragement, and affirmation, then that's a dream fulfilled for me. We may be stuck feeling like an Other elsewhere thanks to societal stupidity, but not here. Here we're all as incredible and sexy and fertile as we wish to be, and I refuse to hear otherwise.

You're awesome, Aster. Try to stay positive, do what you can to take care of your troublesome bits, and love yourself the way you are. And if you ever need to vent about this stuff, my DMs are open, okay?

I adore all of you horny, breedable fuckers. 💖 Don't any of you forget it.

[porloquevivoyo]

I was told by a distant (and I meant diiiistant) family member “wow that’s far from family” about my move to the Netherlands.

And I was so INCREDIBLY activated by that.

I got defensive really defensive as my first reaction.

I know I carry around feelings of insecurity despite how confident I am in my actions because I hear comments like that ALOT. “I could never live away from family. Why do you live so far from family. Family is everything to me. I believe family is important.” And from anyone and everyone. Family, friends, strangers. I believe all of those things too. I also have a different definition of family. I also don’t believe proximity to people I care about matters to me as an individual. I also understand everything people say is a direct reflection of what they know and feel inside and their small bubble of life, a projection. Not at all aimed at me and never personal. Still I feel shamed by the (mostly asleep) society I live in. As if I’m supposed to value “being closer to family” more than feeling where my soul just wants to be at any given moment.

It was easier when Jeff was in the military. Even though I absolutely loved being in Arizona - at least somehow it wasn’t “my fault” at least we still always dreamed of “ being home” and somehow our distance was so noble. And everyone in the military community also dreamed of home.

But no, now these are very conscious choices we are making. Very much on purpose. And after so much wrestling I’ve realized every single con to living away from family is not even an ounce worth every pro I see for myself.

Here I am explaining myself. As if I owe anyone an explanation for why my soul feels as it does. For why I actually don’t feel sad about my lack of proximity to family. For why I would consider places with no family my home.

I think of my kids. And I would want them to stretch their wings as far as it could take them and soar. Whatever that means and however that looks. And to give two shits about what anyone thinks and just follow their soul, divine purpose because it’s the only way. The only way to support the collective is to wake up from this trance and do what YOU are meant to do for this planet.

Ugh. All because of one silly comment I hear all the time from people who- either are asleep, or it’s their divine calling and purpose to be physically close to familial or deep connections.

Sigh. These feelings too shall pass. I suppose it was just a full moon . And in Scorpio. And I’m practically all water.

And, this is just what happens as humans, society pulls us with her illusions and then I have to remind myself my truth.

Carry on if you made it this far. Follow your souls purpose ❤️

[nashdoesstuff]

okay more detailed undertale appreciation post

tw for depression, suicidal ideation

four years ago, the pandemic happened. not great, isolation, whatever. i remember feeling really empty when i saw the news in march declaring a lockdown. that meant i wouldn’t be able to go to school and see my friends.

even when we called virtually, i was sad that i couldn’t hug them, that i couldn’t have that connection. there was something about it that made me really upset to the point where it was a daily occurrence for me to not eat and sit in my room to think about too many not-so-positive things.

i was mindlessly going through youtube a few days later, and i saw this video from 5 years ago. it was by jacksepticeye, and it had interested me because he was playing this game that i had heard of the september before, by the name of undertale.

i watched that first video. then the next. then the next thing i knew i was binging it in its entirety. after i watched it, i started doing research on the game itself. i went on pinterest to find fanart of everything i had seen. i played roblox games cosplaying as sans, and i had fun. fun, even with the suffering i endured and everyone else i knew endured.

there, i made friends. great friends, actually. we all cosplayed and roleplayed the silliest of fanon content. i learned about the utmv and soon after i had it was the only thing i knew. learning about ink’s creativity, about dream’s positivity, about nightmare’s moving on, about killer and color, about characters that suffered worse than i was suffering carrying on from their past and trauma made me think that “maybe i could do that too.”

every time i would open my laptop, i would be so excited to roleplay and meet new people with my interest. to pull that next all nighter. to finish where we had left off. to come up with the next idea, the next plotpoint, the next story.

even with all of the sadness in the world, even with feeling so disconnected and depressed and feeling like nobody would care if i died because so many people were already dying, i had something to look forward to. and it all started thanks to a project created by toby fox.

now, undertale and its aus are my special interest. part of it could have been because it was my saving grace. part of it could have been toby’s genius. part of it could have been the community’s creativity. whatever it is, i love it now. and if it weren’t for this game, i don’t think this account would have even existed to begin with.

with that, i say happy birthday undertale. thank you for what you have done for me and for countless others. thank you for providing me with a community that understands me better than anyone i have met does. thank you for SAVING my life.

[noodlegodforfun]

Introduction

I haven't been on the server for a long time. but now I’m back and I want to raise activity like before, the guys are still often active there and communicate with each other, but I feel like the server is fading away, so I decided to again advertise for my server, so to speak.

Therefore, everyone who wants is welcome.

All rules on the server~☆

We have channels for artists, ordinary people, writers (fan fiction), screenshotters, etc.

But most of the information is about our favorite fandom! However, we do not forget that we are all people too, and in the chat we can discuss various topics, and if we get carried away, we begin to develop the topic in other channels, but still strictly by discussing the work of the participant or him as an artist, writer, meme maker and etc.

Be friendly and live happily ☆

What about channels?

Channel theme "It's our chat"

Includes:

Rules chat

Two chats

Two RP chats

A chat for hugs

A chat for discussing animals (for those who want to share the life of their pet)

A chat for a bot with music (yes!)

Channel theme "SRMTHFG stuff"

Includes:

The first channel for important events in the SRMTHFG community

OC characters (your description of their universe, etc.)

Au people (who themselves share them in this chat or send links)

Headcanons

References

Screenshots and resources( These are templates that anyone can use, for example in their work, mentioning the author)

Channel theme "Other stuff":

Includes:

Rules for commissions from people who themselves leave their sheets for this

Chat for ordering commissions (this is necessary if you want to leave a request of commission, but are afraid to immediately write a private message to the author)

Chat for birthdays (of course, I don’t ask server participants for a year)

Chat for the bot

Chat with a jokes

Special chat upon request with cat girls (I don’t blame )

An honorary chat to the deceased Antauri, with all the art mentioning his death and possible rebirth

Channel theme "ART" channels:

Includes:

WIPS — work in progress

OC art — art with your characters

Fanart — arts ONLY for the SRMTHFG fandom

Artofftopic — art for ANY fandom (posted by participants who want to share)

Memes

Cosplays

Fanfiction

Merch

Videos, amv and editing

And a channel with 18+ (yes, yes, there is such a thing, but I only let in those who are 16-18, how do I check? I believe in words, because I believe in people, although one out of every ten may be a liar in life, this will remain on his conscience, although honestly I don’t care, because there’s a lot of this in the public domain on the Internet).

And two voice channels:

A first voice channel if you want to talk to someone

A second voice channel if you listen to music

Here is a short excursion. All the best and positive ♡

[thedreamworldlibrary]

Sour Flavored

Got another Welcome to Dreamworld Fanfic up and ready!

So I had this idea for a while and I’m surprised no one in the WTDW community brought this up. So for those who watched the webseries, you all know that Pop is the one who gets infected by the virus, but what if the roles were switched where Loli got infected by the virus instead of Pop!

Figured I have fun with this fanfic and showcase my idea for Virus!Loli.

Also, I have a few more WTDW fanfic ideas after this one! Can’t wait to share them with you all!

Big thanks to @gigilefache and @mun-auroralore for being my beta readers!

Enjoy!

~~~~~~~~~

Lolli and Pop quickly ran out of the Madhouse as they felt the ground rumble. They were confused about what was going on, thinking it was the triplets running around the Rollerink again and asking the older kids to race them and getting a crowd going. However, once they heard the cracking on the ceiling it went from the triplets asking for a race to Ribbondancer asking for one. Then a part of the ceiling collapsed. That's when Lolli and Pop realized they were in danger and had to leave the MadHouse ASAP.

“You okay Loli?” Pop asked.

“I’m fine,” Loli replied.

Pop sighed and gave a small smile, but he and his sister weren't out of the woods yet. They needed to make sure everyone else was okay.

As they walked through the halls of the facility, Lolli started to feel a headache- which was weird as she never had one before.

Pop saw how much his sister was in pain and felt concern for her. “You okay?” Pop asked.

Lolli slowly nodded. “Y-Yeah it’s probably the tremor making me feel dizzy,” she replied.

“O-Oh like that time we went on the Cyclone ten times at the local amusement park?” Pop asked.

Lolli chuckled. She was glad Pop still remembered everything even after what Sara put them through. She missed those times and wished she could continue those memories.

Suddenly, Lolli’s eyes turned red as she screamed in pain. “MY HEAD! IT HURTS! MY HEAD!” she screamed.

“Lolli! Lolli!” Pop yelled. 

Lolli’s brother looked for someone- anyone- to help his poor sister. The screams hurt his heart- if he still had- one knowing he couldn’t just leave Lolli while he looked for help. They were stuck like glue, literally.

Suddenly, Lolli’s screams stopped as Pop turned to see his sister had calmed down- but now, her eyes were glowing red.

“L-Lolli?” Pop asked. “Are you okay now?”

“Yeah. I’m fine,” Lolli replied, however, her voice sounded sinister.

Pop sighed. “I’m glad. However, we should find Wiatt and get you checked out. Your voice sounds different,” he explained.

“Yeah, we should,” Lolli replied. “But first we need to find Sara and kill her.” She glared.

Pop gulped, knowing something was wrong with Lolli. “Lolli. I-I don’t think you're well. We need to find Wiatt!”

“No!” Lolli yelled, making Pop flinch. “I remember as clear as day what she did to you, and now it’s time for some payback.”

Near the Starlight Theater, Wiatt and Starlight were trying to make their way out of the rubble. Wiatt said he was strong enough to push some of the debris out of the way as they tried to escape the theater.

“Darling, be careful!” Starlight exclaimed. “You're gonna throw your back out!”

“It’s fine. I’m a mechanic. I have to carry and move all this heavy stuff around,” Wiatt replied.

“While holding a camera?” Starlight asked, shocked.

Wiatt nodded in reply as he pushed the last of the junk away.

Starlight sighed, and if he could, he’d roll his eyes right about now. 

If this situation wasn’t bad, he’d be smiling seeing Wiatt hadn’t changed a bit since the last time he saw him.

“Ah, I see you're finding a way out.”

Wiatt and Starlight’s eyes widened as they looked around who was just spoken.

“Wiatt! Wiatt!”

Starlight and Wiatt looked up after hearing Pop’s voice, and saw up on the balcony was Lollipop- but the male of the twin animatronics looked worried and scared while the female twin had a malicious smirk on her face.

“Pop, what’s going on?” Starlight asked.

“Nothing, Starlight. Nothing at all,” Lolli replied.

“Y-Your eyes!” Wiatt exclaimed. “Pop, what happened?”

“I-I don’t know,” Pop replied. “We were trying to escape the facility when it was collapsing and Lolli’s eyes turned red.”

“And I’m perfectly fine,” Lolli interrupted.

“No, you're not!” Pop shouted back. “You need to get help, you’ve never acted like this!”

“Shut up!” Lolli shouted.

Pop, Starlight, and Wiatt flinched at Lolli’s yelling. 

Never in Starlight’s or Pop’s years had they thought that Lolli would yell at them in such a matter.

Lolli chuckled. “Oh, sorry for my outburst,” she apologized.

“I think I know what’s going on,” Wiatt spoke up.

The two animatronics looked at the young mechanic.

“Whatever made the facility collapse is probably what caused Lolli’s eyes to turn red,” Wiatt ventured. “If that’s the case, the other animatronics might be going through the same thing.”

“Wiatt, Starlight! You two must get help!” Pop yelled.

“On it!” Wiatt replied. He then went ahead of Starlight before the star animatronic followed after him.

“And Star!” Pop yelled.

Starlight stopped, looking at his friend.

“Please be careful! I don’t want you to be next!” Pop told him.

“Don’t worry, darling. I’ll be fine,” Starlight reassured his friend.

Lolli chuckled. “You can run, but you can’t hide,” she sang.

Wiatt and Starlight made it out of the Starlight Theatre towards the Arcadescape. During the walk, Starlight decided to lighten the mood by talking about live streams and videos that he’d been watching.

Wiatt was confused as to why Starlight would be talking about live-streaming at a time like this. They were trapped here. Then again, it did remind Wiatt of an old friend of his who would talk about videos when Wiatt was stressed.

“So what kinds of streams or videos have you been watching, darling?” Starlight asked.

“I don’t watch many live streams,” Wiatt replied.

“What?!” Starlight exclaimed. “Darling, the future is now! There has to be someone you like to watch?”

Wiatt sighed. “Well there is one person,” he replied.

Just as Wiatt was about to reveal who he was, a large mechanical claw came out of nowhere and grabbed Starlight as he shut down.

“Star!” Wiatt shouted.

“Aww, sorry, I didn’t know you two were still talking,” Lolli said, appearing from the shadows.

“Lolli! Let Star go!” Wiatt demanded.

Lolli frowned. “Why should I? I’m protecting him from you,” she stated. “After all, he was your first victim.”

Wiatt blinked in confusion. “What are you talking about?” he asked, confused.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Sara!” Lolli growled.

Wiatt then realized that the virus not only made the animatronics run haywire, but also made him think -he or any human- was Sara Covetman, one of the three founders of Dreamworld Entertainment.

“What? Lolli, that's not Sara, that's Wiatt!” Pop yelled.

“Oh dear brother, so blind to the situation. Don’t you remember what she did to you?” Lolli asked.

“O-Of course, but-” 

Pop was cut off when Lolli continued.

“But what?” Lolli shouted. “Should we spare her? No! I saw what she did to us!” 

Lolli smirked as she reached to grab Wiatt. “Now we should do the same for her.” 

Pop then used his hand to block Lolli’s sensors.

“H-Hey! Pop!” Lolli yelled.

“Wiatt! You need to run and get help! There has to be something in the facility that could snap Lolli and the rest of the animatronics back to normal!” Pop explained.

“What about you and Star?” Wiatt asked.

“Star I know will be fine, I’ll keep Lolli distracted, but you, you need to run and find help as fast as you can!” Pop yelled. “Now run!”

Wiatt nodded and quickly ran heading out of Arcadescape.

“Not on my watch! Mimic, Melody, and Masquerade! Get her!” Lolli commanded.

Wiatt skidded to a halt, seeing three pairs of glowing red eyes and hearing evil chuckles as three smaller animatronics started to appear. This caused Wiatt to run the other way as he was chased by the triplets.

—————

Lollipop was keeping their eyes on Wiatt- but for different reasons. 

Pop was making sure Wiatt was alright, and was proud he found the code to save the animatronics. The code was “quixotic.” It made Pop smile, as the word was something Oliver would say.

However, Lolli wasn’t having it. Seeing “Sara '' awaken the other animatronics using Oliver’s code. Hopefully that Starlight would’ve been the one to destroy “Sara” as they were such good friends.

“Lolli, I miss the old you. The one that was sweet as sugar,” Pop said.

“That old me was weak,” Lolli growled. “I love this new me, better!”

“The new one that loves to hurt people?” Pop asked.

“I don’t want to hurt others, just Sara,” Lolli replied.

The twin lollipop animatronics sat in silence, before Pop broke it once again. “I’m just scared that you’ll hurt someone important- like Oliver.”

Lolli gave a low growl. She and Pop hadn’t heard from Oliver for quite a while, and knew if everyone else was killed because of Sara, then he was too.

“I’m not a monster, Pop. I will not kill Oliver. If we see him,” Lolli replied.

Pop sighed and turned his gaze away from his sister.

Later, LolliPop, Cheer, and Rex met up at the Rollerink area to discuss what they should do about Wiatt. From Rex’s statement, Wiatt somehow fell from Trampoland down to Seaventure and was able to escape.

Rex hoped Glory grabbed Wiatt, but found out that someone saved Wiatt after temporarily disabling Glory.

“Great!” Rex growled as he slammed his hand onto the wall. “Looks like Sara has gotten some help in case she gets captured!” 

“Well, that’s just great! How are we gonna stop her now?” Lolli asked.

“Allow us to introduce ourselves.”

Everyone froze and turned, facing three mysterious figures. One was a Pegasus animatronic named Winnie, another was a man with a TV head wearing a purple suit- who Pop recognized as his brother, and the last one was the real Sara Covetman hiding her face with a mask.

“Who are you?” Rex asked.

“Oh, just some survivors from Sara’s plot,” Sara replied. “We’ve been hiding from her because she’s been interested in us for quite some time.” 

“Really, and why are you hiding in a mask?” Cheer asked, skeptical of the real Sara.

“Because Sara badly damaged my friend’s face here,” Winnie spoke up.

Sara nodded to back up Winnie’s story.

“Oh, well, glad you were the lucky one,” Rex said. “However, that doesn’t mean we trust you, yet.”

“We completely understand!” Winnie exclaimed in reply. “However, we have someone here to provide you answers to what is going on.”

Winnie pushed Oliver to the ground as the timid man groaned in response.

“And who is this?” Rex asked.

“This is Oliver Acrimony. One of the three founders alongside Lewis Bright and Sara Covetman,” Sara explained, introducing her former co-worker. “If you want answers about Sara, he’s your guy.”

The virus animatronics smirked as they chuckled, slowly turning to Oliver. 

Pop was the only one who felt concern for his brother, and was even horrified seeing him in this condition.

“N-Now guys, let’s go easy on him,” Pop requested the animatronics, hoping not to harm him.

“You know, my brother’s right, guys,” Lolli spoke up.

Pop gave a small smile, knowing that a bit of Lolli’s goodness existed despite the virus.

“Because he may know where Sara is, and if he doesn’t speak about it we can force it out of him,” Lolli said.

Oliver shivered in fear as he sank deeper to the ground, scared for a multitude of reasons: the animatronics, and the fact his own sister was willing to hurt him for answers of Sara.

It was decided that Rex would hunt for Wiatt, Cheer would stay with Sara, while LolliPop would stay with Oliver, hoping he could explain what happened to him.

“Oliver, what happened to you?” Pop asked.

“A lot has happened to me, Ben,” Oliver weakly replied. “When looking for Lewis I found out what happened to him, and then suddenly I felt something hit my head,” Oliver groaned, pausing a bit as the pain he got from Winnie started to hurt. “I thought I was knocked out, but it wasn’t until I realized my point of view was different that my head became this.”

“I-I can’t believe she did this to you,” Pop said in a low voice.

“I-It’s alright Ben. I’m just glad to be with you and Liz again,” Oliver coughed out.

Lolli growled and lifted Oliver by his shirt. “You can’t be Oliver! YOU CAN’T BE!” Lolli screamed.

“Lolli, stop!” Pop yelled.

“Y-You’re working for Sara! T-This is all part of her silly plan!” Lolli cried.

Oliver coughed more. “I-I can prove I’m Oliver. I really can!”

“Prove it, then!”

Oliver slowly nodded. “Remember the county fair I took you two?” he asked.

Pop nodded, remembering that fun night.

“You guys loved the haunted house, and took me there five times even though I was scared,” Oliver spoke up.

Pop chuckled. “I remember that.”

Lolli glared, knowing that anyone could know about that. “Not enough!” she yelled.

“I know you're the one who taught me how to tie my own tie, and heck, I was the first one who comforted you after you got rejected by that one girl you had a crush on,” Oliver explained.

Lolli’s eyes widened, remembering that night. 

She had a crush on a girl at school who was also her best friend. Nervous, she told her best friend she had a crush on her, but her best friend already had a crush on a boy and asked him out. Lolli was hurt by the matter, not even Ben could cheer her up.

It wasn’t until Oliver came by and stayed with her, and let her cry on him while he sang to her and told her funny stories, which made her laugh. 

Oliver had to miss out on a movie night with Lewis and Sara, but he’d rather stay and care for Liz than watch an action movie with his friends- even though Sara would chew him out on it the following day and demand she and Lewis would watch the movie a second time so Oliver could watch it with them.

Lolli slowly put Oliver down, and as she did, Pop took notice of a red chip on the back of her head. Realizing Wiatt wasn’t around, he quickly grabbed it and removed it from Lolli.

Letting out a gasp, Lolli’s eyes returned to normal as she saw Oliver was still in her grasp. She quickly let go and covered her mouth, seeing what she’d been doing since being controlled by the virus.

“I-I’m sorry,” Lolli cried, “I-I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay Lolli. I’m glad you're back,” Pop whispered.

Oliver smiled and sighed, now able to relax as he watched his siblings comfort each other.

[makima-s-most-smile]

Trigun Maximum 1 (Part 2)

*me rushing after the bookclub timeline* My brain does not work in summer heat!

*continues to waffle about the smallest details* And I will only get worse, nyehehehe

Trigun Ultimate: 1.1, 1.2, 2.1, 2.2, 2.3, 2.4 Trigun Maximum: 1.1, 1.2, 2.1, 2.2, 3.1, 3.2, 4.1, 4.2, 5.1, 5.2, 6.1, 6.2, 7.1, 7.2, 8.1, 8.2, 8.3, 9.1, 9.2, 10.1, 10.2, 10.3, 10.4, 10.5

Chapter 03: Bravo Girls!

Meryl!

Uh… Neither can a man?!? Karen, what kind of sexist logic do you have there? 

Everyone should be capable and independent, that’s how you avoid landing in abusive situations. (It also does not mean that you shouldn’t rely on people. That’s how communities work.) Knowing your worth and loving yourself is the key here.

Those who know, know -_-

This is the first time that Meryl got any lifesign from Vash for about 2,5 years. She must have thought he died until now. No wonder she is near tears. Her friend is alive! She must feel so relieved! Boyo survived whatever the fifth moon incident has been!

Oh, I immediately dislike Mr. Keele. Keele = Kill, did anyone else zoom in on the phonetic similarities?

Again! Mr. Keele is a tradesman! An Assassin! I didn’t imagine it! Somebody tell me that I didn’t imagine it when I said that Wolfwood literally advertises he’s a trained killer in Ultimate 2! Karen gives Meryl all the hints! “Yeah, I would not want to be there, even if I was you, with Mr. Keele being a killer. Y’know, the ex-elite-military-dude.” We see the penny drop on Meryl’s face!

This has to be one of the bigger cities, since it was build around a ship. But it looks so small. Like 1.000 people, maybe 2000 max. I read somewhere that like 20 Million humans of 100 Million survived the fall (correct me if I remember that incorrectly). But with such small settlements… I cannot believe that. There was surely a second Great Dying in the aftermath, but this… this is so small. And it is a big, well-established city. If Vash is able to run around without people realising who he is, there need to be more people for that anonymity. Big cities offer anonymity, small communities do not!

I like this shot of Vash. He looks like he is Batman, all brooding and watchful. Through that establishing shot, we, as readers, aren’t really surprised when Keele is busted immediately. How exactly, besides Vash being careful, I don’t know. Is it the body language? The way he carries himself and his weapons? Does he hear them talking at the reception desk?

I like this whole scene. Vash is not naive. He knows of the dangers, he knows he is still hunted down, even without the bounty.

Keele is ruthless! To get to his target, he is willing to kill innocents. The woman in the car is an innocent bystander. Vash needs to shield her with his body. While the other assassins until now also killed people, they didn’t use them to get to Vash. That’s a key difference and makes Keele so much more coldblooded.

How much pain tolerance has he? He is smiling and joking after it. Yes, he is showing pain, but he is more obsessed with making everything seem less dire. Of course, Wolfwood sees through it and gets help. I am not sure, he may even carry Vash, since it is highly stupid to let Vash lay there in the open with a fucking hitman on the lose. I wonder how Wolfwood feels when being confronted with that kind of hit man. While we know that Wolfwood is able to “easily” kill, he does not seem like a person who would use innocents to get to his target. He is too direct and honest for that. You could also use the word too ethical, but that is… *looks at the killer for hire part* Well, even professionals have standards?

I love Meryl’s cool speech, but… Keele was hired by her boss. Her boss would have known that Keele is a hit man. Even Karen commented on it. What does that say about her organisation as a whole? I want consequences for it! Be it structural changes or anything, but we never get any. Please, if you have something like this in the story, Nightow, please, do something with it. What are the consequences about this for Meryl and her job, what are the consequences for Milly? Do they report this? It would be in character for both of them! And if they don’t… SHOW IT TO US! PLEASE! What is their reasoning then!

I’d say, Keele is not without logic, but it is not insurance logic. It is the logic that the state works with in “The minority-report”. The idea of a self fulfilling prophecy is also present here, too. Though, it is unethical from the perspective that it infringes on the human’s agency. Another little thing that is important for me (and most likely for Meryl, too) is that Vash is not the disaster! Things happen to and around Vash, but he is not the one who decides to go bat-shit crazy, he runs, he flees and most importantly, he keeps the casualties low! There is no intent there! She would have put that in her reports! Keele didn’t care, her boss didn’t care. 

Can you punish someone for something he doesn’t do? It would be punishing his existence. 

Keele goes to threaten Meryl with a gun, intending to kill her. He is not only a hit man, he is a murderer. His reasoning is greed and covering his own tracks. You could say, in this chapter, he is somewhat the antithesis to Vash. Vash brings destruction without intent and does his best to avoid it. Keele kills for personal gain without care for anyone other than himself. Who is worse? The answer is easy, but somehow from a purely capitalistic view the insurance agency came to another result.

Meryl thinking back to what Karen said, but I don’t think she thinks about herself in that position. She thinks about Vash and how he is thrown into life threatening situations again and again (at least that is my interpretation) and how he cannot be happy like that. His smiling picture contrasts what they have been through together. Yes, it is a shitty position that Meryl finds herself in, but she chooses to stay at Vash’s side. And damn, that’s fucking nice of her. She is his friend. She is brave. And she has ethics!

Milly to the rescue! I love the whole framing of that pic. Her smile and then the close up that shows it is an angry one!

It’s subtle, but does Meryl help Keele to fly by tripping him? Her position changes so much from the former page. She looks so completely unimpressed by Keele. Also, isn’t it nice that people other than Vash get panty shots, too?

WHY?! You smoked Vash out! You followed him! You literally got into a life threatening situation! Why don’t you go to him? AHHHHHHHHHH

Gosh, Wolfwood is so petty. Yes, he keeps Vash’s ethical standground and does not kill his fellow hitman, but Vash never said something against torture… And I didn't get why his face is so bloody, I thought that was the sauce, but no, he skitted on his face due to Milly's hit. Dayumm.

Meryl’s reasoning reads so weird. She used the vacation to look for him, but now she says that they will deal with him through work… Is it her being shy? And Keele never got busted… Nothing changed at her workplace even though it did something so unethical. I… really don’t like this plotpoint.

Chapter 04: Hero returns

Knives! My second best worstie! New readers still don’t get to know his face! Though, this is a memory from Vash. His brother is distorted to a monstrous being, inhuman with crazy eyes and a smile with so many teeth, it is a threat. Knives is not human, but Vash, his brother, is not human, too. 

“Forgetting brings too much sorrow, remembering brings everlasting pain.” That’s grief and it makes Vash's whole being. Sure, if you forget the person you lost, your pain may be gone, but you also lose what made you you. But now, every memory is tainted with the loss. Time should heal those wounds, pain becomes bearable and now painful memories become bittersweet. But I don’t think Vash ever reached that point. Rem is still a sore spot for him, he can’t even talk about her, but she haunts every step. Every scar on his body is a sacrifice to her godhood. Vash is less his own person and more a priest to her existence. While I am sad for Vash, I also feel for Rem. If she was able to know how her son idolises her to his own detriment, she would despair.

Vash having nightmares due to trauma, confirmed.

Damn, that contrast. Wolfwood, the black smudge, between all that white space and all the coffins hanging over his head. We already know that he deals with death at this point, being a gun ho gun and all that shebang, but it also evokes something claustrophobic in me. Wolfwood watching as more and more coffins -corpses- pile up, ready to crush him under their weight. And he just stands and stares.

Wolfwood, the town gossip. “Thank heaven you asked! It’s a long story, though it is kinda a short one! Anyway-” 

Eh, the town going all Montaque and Capulet, just without the lovers and more sexual assault. Kinda sad, but that is greed working. The planet truly brings out the worst of humanity. And Vash is still able to be sad about it. Because he knows humanity can be better. And Wolfwood is his bitter, contemptuous self, not without reason. I don’t see him saying that as misanthropy, though. Wolfwood said in his introduction chapter that he has an orphanage to care about. While Vash cares about the whole of humanity, Wolfwood cares for his smaller circle and he needs to stay alive to do so. He cannot allow himself the risk. 

And damn, Vash just plainly calling him out for having secrets and Wolfwood again, not denying it and just falling silent. They know. And it hurts.

Brad!

He is 17. Why do 17 year olds in manga either look kawaii or like the worst Jojo-delinquents

His hair reminds me so much of Ryu (or Josuke mixed with Jotaro)

Damn, Brad, you are such an arrogant arsehole here. Oh, yes, the people who are trying their best to survive daily on a planet that is unable to really accommodate their needs are not the nicest around… Dude, you are living at a place that guarantees that your basic needs are taken care of. Brad lived with a priviledge that other people literally would die for. I know Brad will grow on me, but damn, his introduction is always… I wanna kick him! At least you are not as bad as ‘98 Brad.

What conversation? The one about plants? The one about having to kill to protect your close ones? Are you trying to make him understand that you, Wolfwood, need to stay alive to keep the orphanage going? Or the one about you hiding stuff? Are you going to confess? Why you are here, Wolfwood? What is it? It is open to interpretation.

But I love this! This shows what a truly honest and open dude Wolfwood truly is. Yes, he goes so easily on the defensive and, damn, he speaks in absolutes and thus can be seen as condescending. But he reaches out to Vash again and again. He literally runs after him to talk! He tries to go by Vash’s rules. He didn’t kill anyone with his fucking machine gun cross, because Vash asked him to, and that is a feat in on itself.

Oh! There is a new coat in the suitcase, too! Didn’t see that in the first readthrough.

Brad: “I don’t think we have a choice, do we? Lost technology for lost technology.” I read this in my first readthrough as Vash trading stuff with the colony, most likely because I still had the scene with Kaite in my head, where Vash just pulls out a radio in the form of a pen. But now it reads as Brad putting Vash down as a plant and dehumanising him.

No! Vash, you are the fucking gun! Yes, you have dangerous powers, but you did not pull the trigger! I know it feels like it! And damn, your body must feel foreign and hostile to you, but you did not chose this, the responsibility lies not on you, however much you put it onto yourself.

“We have no choice but to depend on him”

“The only one who cannot flee or surrender, who will even return from the dead is that nice man right there.”

Damn, that hurts. I know the doctor has a better relationship with Vash than Brad has, but it reads like they are only using him and that only because there is no other option. It mirrors how Vash treats himself.

Brad struggles with Vash seemingly being immortal and inhuman. His hissy fit kinda fits what is brewing in Wolfwood. But with the Docs explanation of Brad being a fucking brat that has a temper trantrum because his age mate Jessica has a puppy crush on Vash... He is just a fucking hormonal teenager. Brad the brat. And that makes Vash’s bout of hating his plantness immediately less dire. I love Doc. (I wanted to write like, but my hands wrote love, so love it is.)

Wolfwood can never eat in peace part two electric boogaloo. He looks so cute, squatting down and just eating XD. It is one of my favourite Wolfwood panels. He just looks so innocent and curious. Annnnd… the softness is immediately gone with his scowl returning. Interesting, how Wolfwood takes the police/army force intervening as something that can go either way and not something purely positive. We don’t see much of them in the manga anyway, so how much power do they truly have? Not enough, considering Knives is scheming in the background with the whole of the gun-ho-guns.

Also, Brad, just go away with your prejudice. I’d like to see how you would have come out living not in a safe space but a world in which you can be shot just for looking stupid.

Kinda hypocritical of Wolfwood. He wants to go away and not interfere. While that is a choice, it is a passive one. His action is nonaction. But nonaction is also an action. He wants to avoid having to make this decision of life and death. But that also tells us, the readers, that while Wolfwood is capable of doing so, he hates taking a life, he hates this part of life and himself. 

And his decision is to decide which conflict he interferes with, because his main goal is to keep the orphanage afloat. Wolfwood has to decide for himself who is worth saving and who is not. No wonder he calls himself a demon. But it is also very human.

He does not have the capacity to help everyone and if he dies here, the orphanage would suffer. His life is worth something for that very cause. While Wolfwood is right that you cannot not make a choice, he doesn’t seem to completely understand it, either. Surely, he breaks the choice down to kill or let live, but there are myriads of other choices that have to be decided before it comes to this. His choice right here is not to kill or to kill, but avoid interfering so he does not risk his own life at the detriment of the orphanage.

And Vash is… Not understanding Wolfwood or humanity. From Vash’s perspective every life is important. He cannot fathom that for some people some lives are more important than others and that alienates him from humanity. From his position it seems unimaginable for him that he does not jump into the fray to rescue the hostages. And it reads a bit patronising or judgemental that other people are unable to do so. It reads like: I can do it, why can't you? Wolfwood has a point, but Vash slaps it away by telling him it is just talk. Vash is not human here, he is far from it.

For me, this also opens up another question. Is Vash using this unconsciously to avoid Knives? By concentrating on helping the locals, he gets distracted again and again from their real goal, smoking out Knives. While Vash said that he wants to kill Knives, it goes against his ideals. Rem also died for Knives, not only humanity. And Vash still loves him, even though Knives did something unmentionable to him. Considering that Vash is also latently suicidal… is there an unconscious hope that he could die before having to meet Knives? It also makes his position of I can do it, why can't humanity do it, kinda sad. He can't imagine people wanting to live and considering staying alive a priority. 

I… just love this very interaction. It feels a bit jarring that they had such an intense argument just a page ago and now they are back to silly nillies.

Chapter 05: Dancing revolvers

Hehehehe, Baby Vash immediately wanting to eat the geranium. Geraniums are also used to repel mosquitos. How does Zazie feel about them? Do the plants smell of geraniums? Imagine Zazie meeting Knives and having to retch.

Interestingly, I mostly found geranium meaning protection and warding off evil, even as a promise to meet at a specific place. Only after a deeper search did I find the meaning of determination. Rem’s face in that scene. She takes strength from that meaning, her own determination to leave behind something or start anew. The woman has a deeply seated regret or two.

We learn later what this exactly means, but Luraude not losing a drop of sweat… HINTS! It looks like he was controlled somehow.

Vash, that can kill a person… A pacifist, you are…

Then why are you bleeding from the mouth?!

I love the framing of Vash’s shooting scene and the aftermath. How his training comes to fruition and how much of his fighting is like high level mathematics. We also don’t know why the storage is shown in the aftermath until we get the resolution of them having been shot open. 

Chapter 06: Sin

I love that framing. It shows the sin and the grief that follows it. It doesn’t show the act, it shows the victims! That makes it much more poignant for me. It is about how innocent people are forced into such situations, how much loss there is from ONE wrong act. 

And while it makes a full circle back to Wolfwood’s words and gives them much needed human context, it also opens up the idea of Wolfwood being a victim that had to take up arms, too. His expression is also important. There is no: “Gotcha! Spikey! There is not his angry stubbornness or this neutral, stoic facade that normally accompanies him trying to make Vash understand. It is just absolute sadness and, maybe (I am really bad with faces) apathy by helplessness. I like that we get a callback to the scene a few chapters beforehand, because this close up tells us a whole different story and frames Wolfwood’s position much more as a position made by need and not by want. As much as Vash cried in that scene, Wolfwood looks like someone who wants to cry, too, but has no tears left.

Wolfwood says that Vash is foolish and stubborn. He looks kinda like a devil, enjoying Vash’s plightful situation. Could it be misguided care for Vash’s survival, because Wolfwood himself had to learn the hard way how to survive? Or does he want confirmation that Vash is someone who reacts and thus is in the end human? There is the hint that there is more to Wolfwood joining Vash’s travels. Our man is sus.

There are other questions that I have as a reader. How often does Vash regret the outcome of these situations? Does he only regret those where he couldn’t save everyone? Or in which people choose to be greedy? How does he keep up his hope towards humanity after those situations? Every life is holy for him, so the life of the murderer and the life of the daughter has to be on the same level. Doesn’t how we fill our life’s make a difference? Vash needs to say no to this due to all encompassing love for humanity. And that makes him inhuman. 

I love how the panelling kinda says two completely different things. By lowering his gun, Vash takes a step back and lets the father decide how to punish his daughter’s murderer. Framing Knives in the middle could be read as Vash’s own acceptance of his hypocrisy. If he is willing to kill Knives for what he did, why should he stop the father. But it also shows Vash’s inner fight for me. He lowers the gun, while we are presented with Knives’s portrait. Vash is unsure if he even can kill Knives.

You can’t save everyone, but you should at least try. And Vash acts upon it. Not putting the father in danger by using his gun, but by trying to save the rapist with only his hands. It is about not burdening the father with being a killer. And… it is an end that makes Vash keep up his promise, but it also feels hollow. The girl was tortured to death and her killer lives. It is unfair. The father’s grief won’t lessen, he may even feel like a failure. And everything about this is just sad.

Another point for Vash being decidedly inhuman and separated from humanity. How would I feel if I saw my family that I put under my protection tear themselves apart. I look down from far above and their scuffles would seem so menial to me and I still lose family members to it, other grief and take more lives in revenge. But also, if everyone is your family, no one is. Family is that important because it is our in-group. But an in-group automatically has an out-group. Vash is ripping himself apart with his point of view.

Yeah, I would also yawn if my boo bombs up my holding cell and gets me with his cool bike. As if Vash expected Wolfwood to come to his rescue.

I like this little tidbit of Wolfwood showing empathy to the father and offering him an escape. Our boy is a softie! Even though he immediately grows defensive when Vash calls him out on it.

I also like Wolfwood stressing to Vash that Vash’s luck will someday run out. And Vash knows it. Vash knows he has been lucky til now. Wolfwood means it in a Vash’s life or the other person’s. Wolfwood wants Vash to chose his own life.

Annnnd Luraude was a puppet and no one knew. Even Vash with his supersenses didn’t sniff or hear him out. 

And I lov…hate… love… Legato. I mean, it is a planet full of bdsm-gear-wearing cowboys shooting each other up and he walks up like from a HIM concert all in a fucking iron maiden. Damn.

[nellyofthevalley]

truths, ch.8

astarion x fem!tav rating: explicit

content: piv sex, fingering, biting/blood drinking, emotionally repressed losers who can't communicate, angst, hurt/comfort, extended sickfic?

summary: this fic started as an excuse to write a bunch of dialogue bouncing around in my head. astarion is a sad little idiot who never learned how to love. tav is kind of emotionally repressed and a bad communicator too, and he has to learn how to deal with this. with her, and her … affliction.

He can’t even remember the last time someone asked him what he wanted. In centuries of service, even the warmest victims were there for nothing more than midnight fun, unknowingly biting off far more than they could chew. It’s better that way, though. It’s always easier when he can’t remember their names or faces after, and he only ever remembered the ones that were sweet.

chapters: ch.1 | ch.2 | ch.3 | ch.4 | ch.5 | ch.6 | ch.7 | ch.8

read it on ao3 or below the cut I totally posted this on ao3 forever ago and forgot to post it here

His mind swims while his fingers mend her clothes, re-stitching torn seams and mending rips he’d been staring at for weeks wanting to fix but refusing to be caught doing it. Astarion ponders over everything he said and did yesterday and how he could’ve done it all better; he thinks if he had another chance, he could’ve said something better than ‘I don’t know’, but it’s a foolish thought—even as he actively tries to convince himself, no other words bubble up and he knows damn well that’s the best he has.

He’s floundering thinking of what he’d say to her, but his mind just keeps fucking swimming and he’s so, so sure that if he’d had one more moment with her, he’d somehow manage to finish sentences cut short or have difficult conversations with her he hadn’t yet learned how to have with himself.

As he watches her body rise and fall with her breaths, it’s all he can think about.

Maybe he should’ve said the truth, he thinks: that he had it beaten into him to never care for another, that he’s bitter with her for saving everyone except him when the Gods never answered any of his prayers, and that he doesn’t know how to dig out of this grave of resentment he’s buried himself in despite how hopelessly charmed by her he is.

Every conversation they ever had starts to feel like it wasn’t enough, going all the way back to the night in the Underdark when he’d given her his coat. Though the truth of it is that he had plenty of time every time, and he chose to squander it.

It hurts to see her like this, with her body battered and bruised and too exhausted to wake…

It’s his own fault, he’s decided. He accepted an offer from Raphael and now she pays the price for it. Oddly, that’s all he ever thought he wanted: for someone to suffer in his stead, but he didn’t mean it like this! Not her. 

Even worse, he pushed her into this—he questioned her when she tried to talk their way out of the fight (if only he’d ever learned how to have trust or faith in anyone) and he felt so off-balance during the fight he picked, allowing his mind to be clouded by a daft eagerness to get the shit over with and reap his reward.

Merregons got the better of her, crowding her and beating her bloody. He shouted when he noticed, calling for Karlach, Lae’zel, Gale, anyone—but they were all surrounded and by the time anyone made it to her, she was already down and out. None of them came out the other side entirely unscathed, but she was the only one who couldn’t carry themselves back to camp.

They remained settled at the Last Light Inn, trapped with nowhere else to go, and he fucking hates it here. Despite their efforts to clean up, every direction held some reminder of what used to be: blood stains they couldn’t get out, strewn about possessions, and an eerie emptiness that forced you to picture how it’d been when it was bustling and happy. Astarion doesn’t grieve for their lives, but he can’t push out the image of how distraught she was that night it all happened; how she wept and begged him to give her purpose will be burned into his brain for eternity.

Already, two full days have passed with her in this bed and Shadowheart and Halsin taking turns caring for her and breathing life back into her body little by little, while Astarion sits in his chair and simply waits.

Raphael came and went, fulfilling his end of the deal promptly. He paid Astarion a visit the same evening the orthon appeared in his humble abode and told him everything he’d asked for: details of Cazador’s deal with Mephistopheles and the tale of how poems carved into their backs bound them to a vile ritual that would sacrifice their souls for a higher power never seen by his kind before.

Ascension. 

Astarion received his reward, but he couldn’t find any satisfaction in it. Not like this—not standing outside the inn alone, and even though only a thin wall sat between him and the room Tav lay unconscious in, he felt halfway across the world from her. Raphael left him there and it all felt like a cruel mockery: the price to be paid for his deal wasn’t even paid by him. He dragged Tav along for this and forced her hand and he never thought twice about it.

Until she couldn’t walk anymore. 

He remembers it so clearly, hauntingly vivid—how he tore apart his foe and ran to her bloodied body, how he held her and shook her and she didn't wake, how he was nothing more than a useless bystander, watching hopelessly while Karlach carried her and Halsin tended to her…

He needs to be by her side, he needs to be in that chair when she wakes, and he hasn’t moved since Raphael left him here. 

He’s deep in trance when she wakes, startled into consciousness by her tugging weakly at the fabric of his shirt; he jumps in his chair and looks over to her, pausing for a moment as he fully comes back to the present and processes it.

“Gods, you’re awake,” he says, relief washing over him as he sits up and starts to stand. “Let me get—”

“No!” she protests in a low mumble, slowly sitting up and leaning against the headboard. “Tell me what happened first.”

Astarion stops in his seat and starts to speak, “You—you were surrounded…”

“Not that,” she scoffs. “The deal!”

“Oh, don’t talk to me in that voice of yours,” he retorts. “You should be mad at me, you should chastise me! I took the devil’s deal all on my own, without even giving you a choice in the matter.”

“You’re wrong,” she says. “Just tell me what Raphael said.”

Astarion hesitates, taken by surprise; even after being bloodied and bruised and bedridden, she insists on hearing about his deal, first thing…

But he tells her everything, powerless to resist her demands.

“What do you think?” he asks. 

“I think it’s time for you to get Shadowheart,” she says with a cheeky smile.

He’s obviously miffed by her dodge but he does it regardless, returning Tav’s grin with an annoyed sigh as he gets up from his seat and fetches Shadowheart.

When he walks out, Tav eyes her clothes by his chair, neatly folded and washed clean.

The door creaks as Shadowheart enters, carrying a tray of food; stew and bread, the standard fare lately. The shadowlands have so little to offer for fresh food, but Tav feels her mouth watering the moment she lays eyes on it, stomach growling, and lights up as Shadowheart takes Astarion’s chair.

“How are you faring?”

“Sore, but well enough for poking the fire,” Tav answers.

“You know,” Shadowheart starts once Tav’s stuffed her mouth, “outside of talking with Raphael, he hasn’t left this room for a moment.”

Tav swallows hard. 

Shadowheart picks up the mended shirt by the chair and turns it in her hands, looking it over. “Skilled with his hands,” she notes with a hearty laugh. 

“Gods, stop it,” Tav chokes out, quickly swallowing the last of her food and laughing, too, and it aches her body but hells, a real laugh is what she needs right now. “I don’t know what’s happening with us.”

“You’re softening his cold heart, and dare I say he needs it.”

“No,” she replies. “His heart’s already soft… in some places, anyway. He just doesn’t know it. Or maybe he doesn’t want to believe it.”

When Shadowheart opens the door and leaves, it’s made very clear to both of them that Astarion was standing right outside, arms crossed and waiting to trade places. He picks her shirt back up when he sits, feeling a bit antsy and in dire need of something to occupy his hands, but he’s already mended every hole; now, he’s started carefully stitching her name in curved script into it, much like he did for his own shirts on long days and nights spent in the Szarr palace.

“So—”

“I think walking in the sun is very important to you.”

“And the power!” Astarion’s face livens instantly as he talks, giddy at the prospect of seizing the Ascension for himself. “I’d never have to fear anyone… and I could walk in the sun without fear of turning into a mind flayer.”

She can relate to that more than he knows. She chased power once too, and it cost her a sibling. The worst part of it all is that she’d do it all over again given the choice. Her patron bestowed her with great, elder powers after living as a street urchin, spit on and ignored by society for so long—and even with an illithid tadpole shoved into her brain, even after being surrounded and taken down in battle, even after questioning it that night in the cemetery, she remembers what it was like before and she wouldn’t give it up for nearly anything. 

Besides, if she hadn’t chased the deal, it would’ve been something else. He would’ve left either way, whether it be the stealing or the pact or the souls she slaughtered in the name of revenge. He’d always been too gentle-hearted, and every time Astarion spits on her for being ‘too generous’, she thinks of how much she always hated her brother for the very same.

But even Raphael called the ritual diabolical, and he’d have to kill his brothers and sisters to do it… the brothers and sisters who endured the same punishments and torture as he had. Astarion pretends to care only for himself, but when he told her he pitied them with him gone, it was beyond evident how much he cares—he just wishes he doesn’t.

Astarion seems to be well-trained in confidently presenting himself as how he wishes he feels. 

Tav would support him in completing the ritual himself in a heartbeat if she wasn’t so certain he does care and that he would regret it later. It would change him, she thinks, and not for the better. 

But now’s not the time to dwell on that. They don’t even know what the ritual entails. Not yet. 

She shifts over to the very edge of the bed and rests her palm on his forearm, prompting him to drop the needle and thread and set her shirt back aside. As he does, she spots the start of her name on it, in lovely gold thread on navy fabric.

“Will you kiss me?” she asks, hopeful to drag him away from dwelling on the ritual now. “It’ll make me feel better.”

“Oh, will it now?” Astarion gives her a half-smile and holds her face in one palm with a gentle—thoughtful—touch. “Then who am I to deny you?”

Tav lightly grasps at his upper arm as he closes his eyes and captures her mouth in his; this time, his kiss is sweet and tender and deliberate, not wary, not heated, not anything but what feels like a true labor of…

…love?

“The other night when you asked me what’s between us,” Astarion starts as they part, eyes fixated on her mouth as he speaks, “What would you like it to be?” 

“What do you want it to be, Astarion?”

“I-I don’t know,” he says, taken aback. “It’s never mattered what I want. No one ’s ever asked.”

He can’t even remember the last time someone asked him what he wanted. In centuries of service, even the warmest victims were there for nothing more than midnight fun, unknowingly biting off far more than they could chew.

It’s better that way, though. It’s always easier when he can’t remember their names or faces after, and he only ever remembered the ones that were sweet.

“I’m asking you now,” she replies.

“It’s complicated.”

“Well, it appears I have plenty of time to sit and listen. So please, go on.”

Astarion brushes off her hand as he folds his arms, turning his gaze away from her and towards the ceiling, and they sit in silence for a moment as he considers what to say. Part of him hopes she’ll say something else and move on, but the rest of him knows that it’s finally time to have this conversation that he’s been neglecting.

Especially after spending the days and nights in this same fucking chair thinking about how he should’ve said it all months ago.

“I wasn’t just a slave to Cazador,” he says with a notable lack of confidence. He shuffles nervously and takes a long pause, inhaling deeply before continuing. “For two centuries, my purpose”—he practically hisses as he begins to recount it—“was to bring back pretty things for the master. Seduce them, lure them to the palace and leave them for Cazador to dine on… It never mattered what I wanted. if I didn’t obey, he’d have me beaten, impaled, or worse.”

His eyes pace around the room, gnawing for anywhere else he can look and digging for what to say. He doesn’t feel like himself, he almost feels sick. It’s too much, but he has to say it all now or he’ll never say it and it’ll loom over his head and the next time she takes so much as a single scrape in battle he’ll be distracted by it all over again.

“It was instinctual for me… to fall back into old habits and charm you, gain your trust, manipulate your feelings and ensure your loyalty. I needed you on my side to fight him, and I did that the only way I—”

“I am on your side. No matter what.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’ll be as ridiculous as I like.”

“Gods, you’re stubborn. Look,” he continues, “I must’ve gotten on my back ten thousand times or more, and none of them meant anything at all; most didn’t even grant me a temporary bliss. But you…

“It was different with you. I’ll never forget the time I spent with you. I want—fuck, what I want is for this to be something real.”

Manipulating someone, getting them in bed, using them for his own benefit—all things he can do, things he is very well-versed in doing, at that. Losing himself in her was a complication. He is not so well-versed in complications. 

“I do, too,” she says quietly.

“Truth is, you make me feel alive again,” he admits, anxiously wiping his brow. “But I don’t know what real looks like, and I can’t give you what you deserve,” Astarion says, turning to face her; and whatever she may have expected to see, it wasn’t this—this awful, gloomy look he wears, like he’s in pain just thinking about this and admitting to it all. “Even though I know things between us are different, it still brings up all these feelings of hatred and self-loathing…”

“We don’t have to sleep together, for as long as you need. For forever, if thats what you’d prefer,” she says. “You’re important to me—however you are, whatever you’re dealing with.”

A small relief, but Astarion hopes for it to somehow come and fix it all like magic, and it never happens. Relief doesn’t make it any easier to get through this this. Relief doesn’t organize his thoughts or teach him how make someone happy. Without sex, what does he have left to offer? He never did figure that one out.

“I never learned how to care for anyone but myself. Cazador always made sure I knew that,” Astarion rebuts, as if he’s searching for any reason to send her away—get her to set her sights elsewhere, maybe back on Gale…

He can’t help but do it; much as he’d like this to be something real with her, he’s certain it’ll end in nothing but disappointment and he knows that’ll hurt worse than not having her at all.

“Oh, fuck Cazador! It’s not true, you know,” Tav protests. “If it were, you wouldn’t be in this room right now. Gods know I don’t know what the fuck real looks like, either, but it doesn’t matter. We—we can figure it out together, can’t we?”

Astarion’s brows lower and he looks at her in disbelief for a moment; ‘figure it out together’ is… beyond what he could’ve anticipated coming from her mouth.

Oh, she is stubborn, but perhaps that’s what he needs in a partner. Maybe he’s not even ready for this, he doesn’t know, but he does know that he’s in it too deep to back out. Not having her at all is a path impossible to take now, no matter how hard he could keep trying to shove her out.

“We—we can try?” he questions with an indecisive tone, though it’s really more of a surprised agreement. “If that’s truly what you want.”

The freedom to choose your own path is a foreign concept—fuck, is that really what he’s doing? Choosing his own path? He always thought it would feel different from this, that it would be more controlled and comprehensible; like he’d have a plan, some sort of routine to reference for his life, as with how he’d memorized and carried out the plans for his conquests, just… a little different.

“It’s what I want. More than anything,” she says, sniffling. “Fuck, sorry.”

“What’s…” Astarion’s voice trails off as he considers what to say next. Navigating this is beyond any of his expertise, and he almost feels like he did in the early days of Cazador sending him out to find victims when he was still learning how to just—just be fucking normal. It was decades before the master let him out, and after so many years stuck inside and subjected to punishment after punishment, he’d nearly forgotten how to speak. “What’s troubling you?”

“I’m fine. Gods, I’m more than fine,” she says, giggling as she wipes the tears from her cheek. “Will you lay with me? I understand if—”

“Move over,” he orders with a shooing hand gesture. 

His heart would beat out of his chest if it could; there’s something about lying together in a bed in an inn, however decrepit and dreadful to reside in, that’s far more intimate than the nights she slept in his tent. Trepidation pumps through his body like blood.

And then, after he lifts the covers and settles in beside her, it simply dries up. 

Tav starts to reach out for his hand, but stops short of it. “Can I touch you?”

“You don’t have to ask,” he answers, though truthfully, he loves that she does. It’s sweet. It’s unusual. 

“I want to,” she says, prying apart his fingers with hers and interlocking them.

He could live in this moment forever. When she looks at him, there’s a special, heavenly look in her eyes that he never wants to lose. A pity for the lives lived without ever experiencing it. No one would ever look at someone like Cazador the way she’s looking at him now.

It’s hypnotizing and makes him want to give her the fucking world—and ascend, for more than himself, because this is so, so much bigger than him.