#a very sad lack of mary

[akuma-tenshi]

i got access to transparent versions of these designs so now i'm unstoppable. if i make an ashes of memory shitpost expect me to use these banger costumes instead of their boring-ass regular designs /hj

[inkdrinkerworld]

Terrified

Cw: idiots in love, remus being scared of fucking up, maybe some swear words, angst to fluff

Wc: 2.6k

You never want to see Remus again.

Your chest burns as you watch him dance in James’ back garden with a girl who looks nothing like you and all you can feel is bile climbing your throat.

Sure you hadn’t believed him when he’d first asked you out, but his persistence, his kind words and the way he would constantly flirt with you had gotten you to agree to one date.

You’d hoped he was being honest, that he had feelings for you too. Maybe not as strong as yours were, but at least enough.

Now you see you’d been a fool.

One Week Earlier:

Remus and you have been dancing around your feelings for each other for as long as you’ve been friends. You always flirt and tease each other, but nothing ever comes of it. Remus likes you- it sometimes feels a bit more than like, especially when he smells your chamomile conditioner, or when you offer him his favourite sea salt and caramel chocolates.

You feel the same. Remus always wants to buddy read with you, or hear you talk about your day and over the years, you’ve both gotten into a steady routine of either calling or messaging the other before you go to sleep.

It feels very much like the two of you are together already even though you’re not.

Your friends have become annoyed with you both for the amount of teasing banter that’s tossed back and forth that yields nothing.

“Just ask her out, Moony. Bloody fucking ‘ell, you’d swear you didn’t know the girl was tripping up about you.” Sirius moans, sipping his beer as Remus watches you talk with Lily and Mary at the other side of the long table.

You’re all at a pub to celebrate the end of the week, needing drinks after the way work has shafted you all in some way or the other.

You hair’s out tonight, a rare occurrence, and Remus swears that he can smell your shampoo from where he’s sat.

You’ve got on your work pants still, just with a different top- a softer looking top to your usual scrub tops. Even though you’re tired, and the lighting is shit in the pub, Remus’ breath is stolen by you.

“S’not like it would hurt anything.” James chimes in, Remus keeping his eyes on you as he tries to distract himself from acting on his friends’ goading. “C’mon Moony, you’d both be happy together.”

James would never root for you both if he thought there would be any major falling outs and a lack of chemistry, still Remus is hesitant.

It’s a bit different to liking you from the safe title of, ‘just friends,’ to liking you and doing something to turn the title into something else- something more.

You turn in his direction, a wide smile on your face when you find his hazel green eyes across the room.

“You’re far away tonight, Remus.” There’s no real sadness in your voice, but something about your eyes has Remus readying himself to change positions with Mary.

Sirius snickers, “He’s fighting your love, poppet. Doesn’t want to sit too near, lest he embarrass himself.” You frown, twisting a strand of hair around your finger as you examine Remus.

“You don’t actually have to come over.” you say, your mouth curving into a soft pout. Remus doesn’t hesitate in slamming the heel of his shoe into Sirius’ shin.

“Why don’t you come sit with me here, dove? Sirius can go sit with Mary.” you shake your head, turning back to Lily and Mary who glare at Sirius and shake their heads at Remus.

He sighs, sitting back into his chair. Remus’ mood doesn’t brighten till you’re all leaving. James and Sirius have gone to the till to settle up, Mary and Marlene have hitched a taxi, Lily is already in the car per James’ request with the doors locked and you’re standing at the door waiting for Sirius because he’s yours and Remus’ ride home.

“Sirius didn’t mean what he said earlier as anything more than a joke. You know that right dove?” Remus asks gently, scuffing his shoe against the pavement as he takes a drag of his cigarette.

“Mhm.” You pull your arms around you before letting them fall and then reach for the cigarette hanging from Remus’ lips. “Is this the strawberry menthol one?” You ask, looking up at Remus with eyes that seem to ensnare him like a siren ensnares its prey.

“Yeah,” it’s breathy and wispy, unlike Remus in all ways. It isn’t the first time you’ve shared a smoke- you don’t do it half as often as Remus, but every now and then, it’s a nice feeling between your teeth and fingers.

“You also don’t have to just do things to prove them wrong, which is why I gave you the out.” You turn your head to blow the smoke behind you, shoulders dropping just a little more as the smoke curls around your face.

Remus is enraptured. This close he can definitely smell the chamomile shampoo, though it also smells like sterility and sanitizer.

“I don’t need an out when it comes to you,” his hand reaches your lips, thumb dragging against your bottom lip just a second longer than it should before he plucks the cigarette from your mouth.

“You don’t have to keep the flirting up when it’s just Remus.” Your heart is pounding in your chest when Remus doesn’t look away. He tilts his head down towards you just as he takes a drag. It’s a little hypnotic to watch him inhale a little and then breathe out, blowing his smoke just over your shoulder.

Maybe it’s two pints he’d had, loosening his lips, but his words wash over you slowly. “I don’t flirt with you for their benefit, pretty girl. It’s not a farce.”

You feel your palms sweat against your thighs. “Oh really?”

He nods, a small grin spreading on his lips and making him look even hotter with the cigarette hanging from his mouth. “Yes really,” He throws the butt to the floor, stamping it out with the toe of his shoes. “I’ll prove it to you too. How abouts next Saturday, you and I go on a date.”

You shiver when his hand reaches for your elbow, drawing you a tad closer to him and out of the way of the opening door. “Just the two of us?”

Remus chuckles, “That’s how dates usually go, pretty girl.”

You hum, mulling it over in your head. You’re really only dragging it out like this so you don’t seem desperate, just in case this is a joke. “Sure, I’d love to go out with you Remus.”

You’d been excited about the date all week, not telling anyone about it lest you jinx the whole thing. When Friday rolled around you’d been practically bouncing off the walls.

Remus had texted you during the day, a little reminder of the date and the dress code for the fancy restaurant.

Your mind had been reeling with all the outfit options.

In the end, you’d chosen a pretty green dress with silver kitten heels. You’d curled your hair and told Remus you’d meet him at the restaurant.

You’d looked perfect and despite the trepidation over this all being one elaborate joke, you’d been hopeful. So, so hopeful.

Only when you got to the restaurant and texted Remus that you’d been there, he’d not responded.

Twenty minutes passed, then forty five, and you’d almost cried when the pretty waitress came in to ask if you were still waiting or if they could give the table away.

You’d at least ordered a slice of caramel cheesecake and then texted Sirius if you could come over to wallow.

That’s when you’d found out.

“Wallow? Poppet, I’m at a party.”He’s a little hard to hear, but you make him out fine and you frown.

“What party? Is everyone there?” you’re trying to be covert, but with Sirius there is anything but.

“Yeah, Moony’s here too. How come’s you’re not here, poppet?”

You won’t cry on the phone in the middle of the street.

“I’m coming over now.”

And that’s how you find Remus with his hand over your direct opposite’s bum, a flirty smile on his face and where you hear the splinter then shatter of your heart as you watch him kiss her neck.

“Hey poppet, you look like a stunner!” you blush a little, leaning into Sirius just a little. He shoves a red cup into your hand and you hardly even sniff it before knocking the entire thing back without flinching. Sirius laughs, fully impressed. “Okay, I assume you’ve had a rough night?”

“Yeah, but I just came to give this to Remus. When you find him will you give it to him?” Sirius nods, turning to find Remus but you’ve already shoved the box into his hands and making your way to the door.

You spend the entire night in your pyjamas eating the last of your caramel ice cream while you try to remind yourself that you and Remus aren’t a thing. You’re just friends, you just flirt with each other. It wasn’t that serious.

Nothing works, not even when Sirius messages you to tell you he’s never seen cheesecake make someone sad.

You feel a little numb, all through the weekend, avoiding your friends and their invites to bars and brunch.

You last a total of four days, then someone is banging on your door and you have to drag yourself out of bed with messy hair and stained Christmas pyjamas and open the door.

Sirius and James stand on the other side of the door. James is sympathetic, frowning when he spots your red rimmed eyes. Sirius opens his arms to you and the tears are back again.

“Oh poppet. He's a total idiot.” he mumbles, rubbing your back as you sniffle.

“We sent the girls on him,” James says soothingly, squeezing your shoulder.

“He won’t survive them.” you say wetly, stepping back to let the boys in.

Sirius smirks, “Moony’s a fucking twat, he shouldn’t survive them.”

You laugh and so does James. “Isn’t he your best friend?”

James nods, “Yeah, but he can still be a twat, angel girl.” You don’t feel comfortable telling them everything that had happened or everything you felt, but the boys use their tendency of imbuing you with confidence to get you to take a long hot shower, do your hair and find your sexiest outfit. Then, they drive you over to Remus’ apartment. .

Lily, Marlene and Mary are all leaving his apartment when you get there, smirks on their face when they see you.

“Make him work for it.” Mary whispers and you nod, letting Lily kiss your forehead just before sending you to Remus’ door.

“Open your door Remus.” The door opens almost immediately, Remus looks as horrible as you had been before your intervention.

Your friends don’t linger, they all pile into their cars and leave and you’re grateful that for once their nosiness hasn’t overridden their regular senses.

“Fuck,” he mutters, head hung low like he can’t stand to look at you. “Dove.”

“Can I come inside?” you ask and he nods, stepping out of the way so you could walk into his place.

Before you can say anything, Remus tugs your hand to pull you close to him. “Just for a minute.” he mumbles, his arms wrapping around you. Remus can’t stop the deep inhale, all he can smell is you and all he wants to smell is your chamomile shampoo. Maybe even some of your vanilla perfume.

You smell him too, his citrus and mint body wash. His clean cotton laundry detergent and something else that’s distinctly Remus. It feels good to hug him like this, but also you worry about the girl from the other night. You worry about your friendship and what’s going on.

When his hand cups the back of your head and his nose drags along your cheek you feel your breath hitch and your heart speed up. Your legs wobble, knees knocking slightly.

“I don’t know why you stood me up, or why you were dancing with that girl but I suspect she may not be happy to know you get this close to all the women in your life.”

You try for a joke, but it falls flat and Remus pulls away from you like you’ve burnt him.

He sighs, “I’ve been an idiot.” You nod, not wanting to lie.

“It would’ve been nicer if you just said you didn’t want to go anymore.” You’re trying hard not to let your voice crack, the last thing you want is Remus and you to make up just because you’re crying.

Remus bites his lip, the pretty scar slicing through it pulling tight as you watch his teeth sink into it.

“Dove,” you take a step back from him then. You don’t know what’s going to happen but you need a clearer head than the one you have right now.

“I did want to go.” He sounds sincere but you remember being at the restaurant for nearly an hour all alone.

“Then why didn’t you? I stayed for an hour waiting for you.”

Remus flinches. His chest burns with shame, guilt swirls his stomach. “I don’t have a good reason, other than I was scared it was just a joke. Just another thing we say and don’t do.”

You shake your head, “I texted you telling you I was there. Then I called Sirius and he said you were at a party with him and when I came you were dancing with a girl.” You take a deep breath to dispel the emotion clogging your throat. “This isn’t going to go anywhere if you’re not going to be honest Remus.”

His hand is rough against his face as he leans against his kitchen island.

“I wanted to get over you. I knew if I went on the date I’d just fall for you even more and I didn’t want to fuck up our friendship- I haven’t had the best track record when it comes to being in relationships. I’d have rather been friends than be your boyfriend and potentially lose everything.”

You shrug your shoulders, “I’d have rather you said that and cancelled the date. I’d have told you, you have nothing to be worried about and that we’d work through it together. Now, I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”

Remus nods. “I’m sorry dove. If it’s worth anything, it didn’t help. I was thinking of you the entire night and when Sirius gave me the cheesecake I almost ran over to your place. He and James stopped me and made me tell them everything. They told me I was being rash and stupid, said I was going to lose you now for sure.”

You sigh, tears pooling in your eyes finally. “I wish you just told me.”

Remus reaches for you, not being able to stomach the way your chin wobbles. “Darling,” he pulls you to his chest again, letting you cry. “I’ve been such a fucking twat.” You laugh through your tears.

“Yeah,” you say quietly, Remus chuckles. “You have been.”

“You’re really making me work for your forgiveness, precious girl. I don’t mind,” he kisses the crown of your head. “Would it be too much if I asked if you still wanted to go out on a date?”

You pull away, teary eyes looking into his. “Why?”

“I’m still head over heels but I need to prove I’m not a complete and utter knobhead.”

Remus is putting the ball in your court, knows it’s the best thing he’s ever done.

Still, his nerves are on fire. His chest constricts like you’ve already rejected him.

“Now?” He nods.

“You’re already all dolled up, don’t see a point in wasting this outfit in my dusty apartment.”

You nibble on your lip, “Maybe in a few days, Remus. I think we need to let this all settle.”

His smile dims a little but he nods, “I understand, dove. Just let me know when you’re ready.”

You leave his apartment and for the next couple of weeks you and Remus take it slow, slow to hang out, slow in speaking to each other one on one.

When you end up going out, he picks you up at home flowers in hand and a small box of your favourite chocolates.

“Let me do it right this time.”

[katiemccabeswife]

It's Not Your Fault.

Matildas x Fem!Reader

After losing against England in the semis, not only do you feel guilty but people are blaming you.

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Vomiting, crying, threats (breifly mentioned), death (very breifly mentioned), self depricating thoughts, sad reader :(

You were one of the youngest players on the team, technically speaking you were the youngest being a few months younger than Mary. Despite your age, and compared to the other girls -your lack of experience, you were still a part of the starting lineup for the semi-finals against England.

You had played in all of the other games, if only for a few minutes at the end of a game, including the game against France. You participated in the penalty shoot-out and managed to get the ball past the keeper which brought you and your team to this point.

You were more nervous than excited but you wouldn’t admit that to any of the girls. The Matilda’s had made history for Australia and women’s soccer and that’s exactly what the girls would tell you for you expressed your worries about the game. They’d tell you that they along with the rest of Australia would have your back and no matter the outcome, everything would be ok. You didn’t want to listen to the girls lie to you, so you said that you were fine and excited.

It didn’t help that some of the girls apart of the Lionesses squad were your teammates from Arsenal. You were still kind of new to the club and were still building relationships with the girls and you didn’t want tension between the group if your team beat theirs or vice versa. Steph and Caitlin would be in the same position as you but they were already well settled into the team and you doubted a loss could ruin the relationships already built.

To sum it up you were shitting bricks and your stomach hurt from stress and worry. You smiled and chatted to the little girl you walked out with, sang the national anthem and smiled for the team picture but once the camera went down and you were in place, ready to start the game, you almost started crying and throwing up.

~

You didn't get any goals. Sam got one, but so did Ella. And Lauren. And so did Alessia.

You did however have almost the perfect shot but your anxiousness washed over you like a hot shower and you passed it off to Mary who missed. You know you should have taken it, everyone does. No one would blame Mary for missing but they would blame you for not taking the shot. Whilst the goal may not have made you win, it could have boosted morale and encouraged one of the others to get another goal that could have won it for Australia.

You passed the ball to Mary but you didn’t run towards an open space to give her options, you stood there with a blank face before bending over and clutching onto your stomach. You heard a few people boo when you chipped the ball and you knew they were booing you. You were booing you as well.

You walked up to Mary and pat her on the back, “I’m so sorry Mary, I should have taken the shot. I’m sorry, I panicked.” Your eyes had filled with tears and your free hand was still clutching your stomach.

“It’s ok, don’t worry about it,” Mary smiled at you in reassurance but you knew she was upset.

“I’m sorry,” You nodded to her before running back to position.

You lost the game for Australia and you felt worse than when you started. You barely held on when the final whistle sounded. You say yourself onto the floor before rolling onto your stomach and crying into your arms, trying to block out the lionesses celebrating. You tried to keep your shoulders still as you sobbed and held your breath when someone came and tapped you on the back or whispered to you that you played well.

You slowed your tears as you did the walk around and again when you and the whole team stood in a heart shape and listened to what Tony had to say, but you didn’t stop them when you walked through the tunnel. You didn’t say ‘Hi’ to any fans nor signed anything, you were sure no one would want to even look at you.

You walked right into the bathrooms and threw up everything you had in your stomach. You were dry-heaving when you felt someone rubbing your back. You leaned your forehead onto your arm and sobbed. The hand stayed there.

You weren’t sure whose hand it was as you stayed in the bathroom cubicle until Sam came and helped you stand before wrapping you into a hug.

“I’m so sorry, Sammy. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” You repeated over and over as new tears began to fall.

"It’s ok, chick. It’s ok,” She reassured with tears in her own eyes.

“Everyone’s gotta hate me, I lost the game for us. I’m so sorry Sammy,” You sobbed loudly.

She pulled you away for the crook of her neck and held onto the sides of your face, “Chick, this is a team sport. You didn’t lose the game, we lost the game. It’s not your fault, no one hates you,”

“Maybe you guys don’t but everyone else will,”

“Well they can go fuck themselves, I’d like to see them play professional football,” You laughed lightly through sobs, “C’mon let’s get goin',” She kissed you on the forehead and guided you towards the bus.

~

Sam was right, but so were you. The girls didn't hate you or blame you, that you knew of, but the rest of Australia did. You were messaged horrible things, threats, death wishes and they were also commented on all of your socials even going back to your earliest posts.

Hayley caught you scrolling through the gate messages, turned off your comments and blocked everyone that DMed you. You were rooming with her so she heard you crying under your duvet and in the shower and tried to cheer you up.

You were grateful for her efforts but if anything, it made you feel more guilty. Yes, not only were you mourning the loss but also fighting against the immense hate you were getting but Hayley was also mourning the loss and you felt guilty that she was trying to take care of you when she should have been taking care of herself.

You ended up spending a lot of time in bed over the next few days, opting out of team bonding time, either sleeping or crying. When it came to training, as you had the match for 3rd place coming up, you were pushing yourself to a new limit and staying afterwards to continue practising.

After dinner with the girls, Hayley came into your room and sat you up against the headrest before turning the TV on. After flicking through a few channels, a familiar face popped onto the screen.

"The good thing about playing a team sport," Sam's voice filled the room, "Is that it's never one person's fault, or it's never one person that made the team win. And I think that without Y/N the whole team, I mean Tony will probably tell you, that our whole team plan changes. She's such a...an amazing player, and being so young she holds so much potential"

You had tears in your eyes as you continued watching the news. Chloe Logarzo also spoke on the matter which made your heart warm as you had never even spoken to the girl and she was defending your honour. Hayley let the news continue playing as she pulled out her phone and wrapped her arm around you.

She pulled up Instagram and clicked on various stories. All of your fellow Australians had posted pictures of you and them saying how proud they were of you, Ellie's kindly saying, "My superstar, leave her alone <3". Some of the girls from Arsenal even posted similar things that Hayley showed you before going into her camera roll and showing you pictures of fans with signs for you, those who also posted for you and those who had DMed you expressing gratitude for you and congratulating you.

You were crying again, but tears of happiness. Hayley hugged you before bringing you down to the girls who hugged you 'til you were scared their arms would fall off.

[heartofstanding]

I feel a lot of historical fiction and pop history makes the mistake of confusing a lack of evidence with a lack of personality, even down to a lack of personhood. People who die young, then and now, were real people. They had personalities. They got angry, they could be happy and sad, they wanted things, they cracked jokes, they loved people. Even if this doesn't appear on the historical record, this is true. They didn't spend their entire lives tucked up in chairs or beds and doing nothing but fainting or coughing blood into handkerchiefs like a tragic saint as violins softly played and angels wept. Those who died as a result of long-term illness weren't husks of human beings, they were still people. And that makes the assumption that death at a young age was the result of a chronic, long-term illness when it could just as easily be a sudden death.

I think this fact is particularly lost when it comes to women or girls, particularly those who died from complications in childbirth. I wish we spent a bit of time seeing them as people who, despite the lack of evidence, would have had a distinct personality, instead of seeing them passively tragic victims who were always doomed to die and so never developed a personality.

It's one of the reasons that I really appreciate the survival of two literary memorials to Blanche of Lancaster that showed the impact of her existence on those around her or attempts to build up a sense of what a woman was like outside of her death (Chris-Given-Wilson's discussion on Mary de Bohun was very much the basis for this post of mine). Even if the evidence can't bring give a sense of these people in same breadth as long-lived contemporaries it does tell us something about them. In the case of Blanche, we may never know what she was like beyond the heavily idealised memorial but we know she was valued and missed when she died. That must have been because of who she was.

[aedesluminis]

On Anne-Marie Robinot, Saint-Just's mother

What follows is a personal translation I did of an excerpt taken from the historian Stefania Di Pasquale's book Storie di Madri (A History of mothers) which includes a chapter on Louis-Antoine's mother. The notes at the end are included in the original work.

Marie-Anne Robinot was born in Décize on the 16th of January 1734, the daughter of Jeanne Philiberte Houdry (1712-1745) and Léonard Robinot (1701-1776), king’s counsel, royal notary and procurator in the bourg of Décize.

There are no contemporary pictures of this woman, but that doesn’t mean she was less important than others; the lack of any representation is probably due to the centuries that have passed since her death and to the destruction of personal belongings which occurred right after Robespierre’s fall and also, in particular, during the Restoration of the old European monarchies starting with the Congress of Vienna of 1815.

We don’t know much about her early years, except that she grew up among the Décize haute bourgeoisie of the 18th century and that she received a good education.

The French historian Ernest Hamel, who had met Saint-Just’s nephews for his grandfather was an intimate of the latter, wrote the following in his biography Histoire de Saint-Just:  «Madame de Saint-Just was a charming and charitable woman, who outlived her son by a few years, she was sad by nature; she had loved with excessive love this predestined son, who until the last day returned her motherly tenderness with filial adoration. » (1)

Marie-Anne was a very religious woman, attached to her family, but compared to her contemporaries, who submitted to paternal will on certain matters such as those concerning arranged marriages, and, although she loved and respected her father, she believed it was unfair that parents could decide the future of their children, especially when they were already sentimentally attached to another person. This is what eventually happened to Marie-Anne.

Mademoiselle Robinot fell in love with Monsieur Louis-Jean Saint-Just de Richebourg, knight of the royal and military order of Saint-Louis, marshal of the gendarme company under the title of Berry, son of Marie-Françoise Adam and Charles de Saint-Just.

The age gap between the two was of twenty years: he, a mature man, and she, a young thirty years old woman still unmarried.

Marie-Anne had already the occasion to show her obstinacy just a couple of months after meeting captain Saint-Just.

Unfortunately their union would have been opposed by her father, who didn’t approve their relationship since he considered Louis-Jean as a simple peasant son of humble origins. Monsieur Robinot didn’t consider his future brother-in-law equal to his rank. But perhaps was it just an excuse? At the time the Robinot family was composed of men only and a female figure, who knew how to handle domestic servants, was much needed. The young woman wasn’t evidently of the same opinion and, on the suggestion of some notary friends of her, she resorted to the only means available at the time to counter paternal authority: les sommations respectueuses.

During the Ancien Régime the law required the father’s consent to celebrate a marriage, but in case it was denied, people over 25 could counter the refusal through a process called sommations respectueuses. To accomplish that, one had to rely on a notary and ask the family members three times for the written consent. After that, if the request kept being denied, the person could still proceed with the marriage.

Determined to fulfill her dream, Marie-Anne took courage against her paternal authority and on 21 March 1766 she appeared before her father together with notary Grenot and two other witnesses both belonging to the nobility.

Outraged by such audacity, Léonard Robinot pretended to be absent. The same occurred on 22 March. The following day, the 23, the day of the last visit, Robinot left the house defeated, without uttering a single word. Happy and contented, the next day Marie-Anne signed the marriage contract and the ceremony was set for 30 May 1766.

The two married in Verneuil with a quick ritual, celebrated by the uncle of the spouse, Antoine Robinot, and among the wedding witnesses there were a carpenter, a merchant and a cabaret comedian (two of them couldn’t either read or write).

In a rage, the rest of the Robinot Family didn’t even want to go out of their house to see the spouses, especially the disobedient daughter. Surely the intimacy of the ceremony was thought necessary to avoid their reprimand.

Marie-Anne got pregnant a few months after the marriage and on the 25th of August 1767 a child was born, who one day would have made history, who would have fought and died for the freedom of his country.

The chosen name was that of Louis-Antoine, Louis like his father and Antoine like his uncle and godfather, the abbot Antoine Robinot.

The little Saint-Just was baptized the same day he was born in the church of Saint-Aré (Décize) and, according to the customs of the time, he was placed in the care of a wet nurse in Verneuil who lived in a house next to his uncle's. A few years later his sisters were born as well: Loise-Marie-Antoine in 1768 and Marie-Françoise-Victoire in 1769.

In 1771, however, Antoine Robinot died, the Saint-Just family was forced to take their son back and move to Nampcel, to the house which once belonged to Charles de Saint-Just (1676-1766), Anoine’s paternal grandfather. Marie Madeleine, sister of Louis-Jean, was there to welcome them.

They lived together peacefully for some time, then the family moved again to Marie-Anne’s paternal household in Décize.

According to the French historian Bernard Vinot, Léonard Robinot was a good grandfather, who doted on little Louis-Antoine. However the joy of that peaceful life was short-lived.

In 1776 Robinot died and the Saint-Just family moved one last time to the rural village of Blérancourt. It was a graceful and tranquil place. There, thanks to his military merits, Louis-Jean obtained consideration and privileges, usually reserved to the lower nobility.

Léonhard’s inheritance was split among his children and on 18 July 1776 the heirs sold the house in Décize to Claude Leblanc: that was the last time one could find the Saint-Just spouses’ signature in the town of Décize.

And so Louis-Antoine left in July 1776 the place where he had spent the first four years of his life forever, but he would have never forgotten the mountains and the river Loire, from where the fairies and myths of his work Organt would have come out. (2)

[...] Unfortunately a large part of the familial correspondence [between Saint-Just and his family] was destroyed both during the persecutions the family endured after the death by decapitation of Louis-Antoine and after the dreadful Restauration which started with the Congress of Vienna of 1815.

[...] Other than the pain caused by the death of her beloved son, Madame Saint-Just had to endure the humiliations of the Directory political police.

A mother who until the very end kept like relics those few belongings of her son, saving them from the thermidorian fury; today one can see those mementos in a display case placed in Saint-Just’s house, now a museum, in Blérancourt. In these cases it’s possible to admire a book of the young revolutionary man still with the violet he had put inside as a bookmark; a bronze plaque with an angel on it (once it used to be in Louis-Antoine’s bedroom) and a quill. That was all the poor mother could save, since even the young man’s clothes had been sold to the authorities.

Marie-Anne didn’t even have a grave to mourn her son, buried without clothes to prevent someone from reclaiming those tortured bodies. For Louis-Antoine’s remains were thrown into a mass grave in the Parisian Errancis cemetery, close to Parc Monceau.

Today this cemetery doesn’t exist anymore and the 119 human remains were moved to the catacombs in Paris.

From a missive by Madame Saint-Just sent to the prefecture of the Aisne Department, we know that the authorities still refused to give her back some of the belongings, despite the fact that fifteen years had passed since her son’s death:

To the Prefect of the Department of Aisne, member of the Legion of Honour. Marie-Anne Robinot, widow of the defunct Monsieur Louis de Saint-Just, former cavalry captain in Blérancourt and currently residing there, has the honour to notify you that, following the event of 9 Thermidor Year II, a commission named through a decree of the District of Chauny came to my house to seize all property titles belonging to me and my children, because of the sentence pronounced against Louis de Saint-Just, my son, representative in the National Convention; and that, as a consequence of that event another decree was released that allowed the return of the belongings to the parents of the convicts; I am in need of the titles of which I am concerned and which are currently deposited in the Archives of the prefecture of Aisne, I want to have the honour to ask the Prefect to be so kind to order the collection and delivery of my belongings through you; by doing so you shall have my most sincere gratitude and respect, Monsieur le Préfet, your humble and obedient servant. Widow Saint-Just. Presented on 18 February 1809.

[...] After the death of her son and with age advancing, on 5 June 1807, Marie-Anne decided to make a will, leaving everything to her two daughters:

To Louise, I leave a house, with a kitchen with a small cellar, an attic, a tool shed, gardens for 21 hectares with fruit trees, everything located in Blérancourt in Rue de la Chouette. To Victoire, a house with two rooms, a cellar, a hallway, an attic and office rooms, everything in Blérancourt in Rue de la Chouette. (3)

Madame Saint-Just died of a cholera epidemic four years after writing this small testament on 11 February 1811 in her house in Blérancourt, leaving the void and mourning of her daughters and nephews.

(1) Ernest Hamel, Histoire de Saint-Just, Paris, Poulet-Mallasis et de Braise, 1859, p. 26.

(2) In May 1789 in Paris L’Organt was published, it’s a poem divided into twenty chants in which Saint-Just criticized the absolute monarchy and clerical hierarchies.

(3) Claire Cioti, Saint-Just, cit.

[allebasimaianunes]

lamb of god diary's † father charlie mayhew short-fic

sumary: there's a lamb of god very much loyalty for hers favorite preacher. so she writers everything what happens with both like her own bible. the bible of the sinners.

autor's note: my fisrt "fanfic" in english. the ideia it's this sounds like a really deep dive on the mind of a girl (reader) while she envolves with her priest, like a real diary where i'll can find thoughts and randoms stuffs about her life.

warning contend: sexual mention, lost of virginity, prient kink. drabble.

word count: 803

language: english

soundtrank inspo: preacher's daughter (ofc)!!!

lamb's diary. oct, 30 of 2024.

Father Charlie Mayhew was so incredibly hungry for me.

He needed to possess me, maddened, completely intoxicated by his own desires. And I wanted it too, I won’t lie! When he approached me—an angel in the church, a smirk on his beautiful face—I knew exactly what we’d be doing in that secluded place.

He looked deeply into my eyes during communion, letting me feel his touch as he placed the body of Christ on my tongue, whispering, “Come to me tonight.”

I was so nervous and anxious about it! In the midst of guilt and sadness, I always wanted this: the bodily contact, the intimacy, the singular pleasure that I sometimes indulged in alone but which, at times, was not enough. My perverted thoughts had haunted me, haunted me while I walked with my dog and saw the new priest jogging in those ridiculous shorts, his slim shirt clinging to his muscular body; haunted me when he fixed his gaze on me, on my body, with a hidden desire in his dark eyes; haunted me as I touched myself alone in bed, with the holy Virgin Mary looking down on me in mercy until I climaxed, thinking of Father Charlie fucking me so hard that it broke my bed.

Then I’d wake up from a wet dream of him, telling myself it wasn’t real. Until that day, when I entered his room. I sat on the simple wooden chair, hands clasped in my lap, looking at him with expectation.

Charlie sat on the bed, which sank under the weight of his muscular frame, his dark, intense eyes undressing me. His breathing was already heavy with desire, which I could tell by the bulge forming in his black cotton pants. He slowly declared his intentions, asked my thoughts on celibacy and sex. My response was simple, lacking arguments—a passive plea, revealing my need to be devoured by that man, so powerful in his presence. He whispered about God and the outdated dogmas of the church as he unbuttoned the front of my dress with one hand (he’s very skilled with his fingers, I might add).

With rough lips, dripping words from his soft tongue, he kissed me passionately. It was a delicious, desperate kiss, far more experienced than my first kiss, and Charlie knew how to move his hands. He made me sigh with passion, squeezed me between his palms, made me tremble as he undressed both of us. His body was a temple of temptation, sculpted and strong. He was big. As he laid me down on the bed, covering me with angelic, affectionate kisses, I felt something hard pressing against me. That’s when I thought, “Oh my God! It’s going to happen!” With abruptness, he removed my panties, followed by his own underwear, leaving us both completely exposed to each other, eyes filled with lust. His desire was dripping from him, radiating a strange, forbidden aura through his gaze, while I felt like a lamb about to be sacrificed.

Since I like metaphors, here’s one: with his sharp-bladed dagger, he pierced my throbbing core, causing a sharp pain that bled down to its hilt, flowing from the wound and bringing me closer to the sacred light. A radiance enveloped me—my thoughts, my body. A small death that revived me when he finished, filling me with himself and asking forgiveness for everything. But it wasn’t over. He kissed his way down, cleaned me with the blanket, and began to pray between my legs. Sacred incantations. Within minutes, I reached the epitome of something far greater than myself, giving myself over completely. Me, cruel.

Lying next to him, staring at the white ceiling, I lazily asked, “You’ve done this before, haven’t you?” to which Charlie laughed, his chest shaking as he responded smoothly, “Of course not.”

I knew it was a lie, but in that moment, I preferred to believe the sweet honeyed words of that serpent.

Then he helped me up, asked if I was okay, offered me warm water, helped me dress, and guided me to the door. The rectory was strangely empty, but Charlie whispered that God had arranged it all.

With a strange fear lodged in my throat, he gave me his blessing, and I went home, feeling a burning between my legs and a numbness in my mind. I must say, this has been happening for weeks. I enter his room, he devours me, ravenous, and then I slip from his hands as if I’m leaving the scene of a crime. And isn’t that what it is, really? A priest shouldn’t be doing this… well, I don’t think Charlie should even be a priest, but that’s another story.

In the end, though, it’s consuming me bit by bit.

Father Charlie Mayhew is consuming me entirely. And I’m not complaining.

[the-last-tsar]

Yet another family wedding took place later that year, in June — of George, Duke of York, to Princess Mary (May) of Teck. Alix did not attend, pleading the need of the Hesse family to be careful with money, but the Russian imperial family had no such concerns and Nicky was sent to represent them, staying at Marlborough House in London. The Prince of Wales, "Uncle Bertie" (whose wife, Princess Alexandra, was Nicky's mother's sister), seems to have taken a rather dim view of his nephew's customary attire, arranging for him to be visited by "a whole bevy of tailors, shoemakers and hatters." "He is very funny in that respect," commented Nicky, "but he has always been extremely attentive and kind to me." Nicky in his turn seems to have been unimpressed by the physical qualities of British women, lamenting the lack of attractive specimens at a state ball at Buckingham Palace. On the next day the party set off for Windsor to visit the Queen — "a round ball on unsteady legs" — as Nicky described her in his diary. Mercifully unaware of such remarks, she presented him with the Order of the Garter. Throughout this stay attention was constantly being drawn to the physical similarity between Nicky and his cousin "Georgie" — "l am getting quite tired of hearing the same thing all the time," Nicky protested. He greatly enjoyed this visit, however, and was sad to leave.

Alix and Nicky | Virginia Rounding

[avalordream]

Intermission 1:

In your previous life, you had a specific attachment to a children's book- The Little Engine That Could made by...er... some author.

You were little, ok?! And... your parents had kept that copy you owned back then for memory's sake and to preserve it for as long as possible. They'd gotten it for you as a present and for some encouragement so you could grow some interest in learning to read.

It was a whopping success, to both of your delights!/It took some effort on their end but eventually you got around to reading./It backfired horribly despite their best efforts. Even so, it was originally published in 1930 so chances were that you'd find it.

You hadn't intended on trying to find it but when Ma and Mom took you to the mall and you saw it displayed in a bookstore?

They couldn't understand why you were so adamant on getting the book, since you hadn't shown much interest in it before but Ma saw how you lacked that dull sadness in your eyes at that moment and she didn't need any more convincing to get it for you.

Anything to keep your eyes shining for as long as possible.

Everything you have in your MC's room belongs to Mc, not you. It meant so much to you to have something to call your own.

Especially if it was the very book that shaped a part of YOUR childhood.

Not MC.

You.

-> Next... <-

-> Let's go back to reality together... <-

⊹ ‧₊˚ Isekai Self Aware Taglist: @lilqi @annoying-mary @mellozhi ˚₊‧ ⊹

[haveatthee83]

Mr. Greatness (Gojo Satoru/Reader) Oneshot

Inspo: I just wanna hug this poor mary sue.

ONESHOT 1/1

Word Count: ~10k

Warnings/notes: Angst, fluff, smut, sad Gojo, no one is dead, fuck you Gege you damned sadist, biting, love at first bite (of food, I swear), face sitting, funny Nanami.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Gojo Satoru was bored. He was so bored he doesn’t know what to do with himself. Hell, he’d started to think about messing around with infinity and seeing what happened. That’s when you appeared.

When you first came around, Gojo didn’t think much of it. In fact, he all but ignored you the first two weeks you were at Tokyo Jujutsu High. When you two were introduced, all he gave out was a “hiya!” and a joke about you being a fan-you weren’t. You were hired to help teach the first years when Gojo was out on business, and act as a school nurse of sorts, being very well versed in healing with your cursed energy as well as fighting. You were there to help them on missions and keep up their training in his absence. Afterall-as much as Gojo would like to think it does-the world doesn’t revolve around him. So started a little game of hearing all these tales of the wonderful new teacher and how powerful she was, even how much better than Gojo she was from the first years-more than once. No matter how little he cared about how they were delusional enough to think anyone was better than him, Gojo’s curiosity peaked.

One day, all three first years came to a mission with Gojo all equipped with large, fancy bento boxes. All filled to the nines with homemade food with cute designs throughout. They even had personalized notes in each. It was enough food for two meals plus dessert EACH! How was Gojo not supposed to be confused, intrigued, anything?!

“Isn’t Nurse-sensei just the best?!” Kugisaki exclaimed to the other first years, giddy as she fawned over the fresh sushi and homemade strawberry cream cake.

“Put that food away, and let me explain the mission,” Gojo sulked, jealous. ‘I wish someone would make me homemade bento…’

Itadori perked up and smiled, “You have one to, Gojo-sensei!” he said, presenting the intricate, stacked bento. Gojo was taken aback, staring at the bento as Yuji handed it to him, noting the blue fabric wrapping it, and the sleek, navy chopsticks on top.

He gently grabbed the note on top, “I hope we can be friends, Mr. Greatness <3 -Nurse-Sensei” Gojo stared at the note longer than he probably should have, a weird feeling in his gut.

Itadori nudged him with his foot, “Hey, you in there?” Gojo looked back up at the boy, nodding before shoving the note in his pocket, and swinging the bento box over his shoulder.

“About those cursed spirits, eh?” he smiled.

It was an abandoned building next to a hospital. A serial killer had come through and systematically tortured and killed multiple homeless people, so it was a breeding ground for cursed spirits, one of which sat gluttonous on the top floor, growing rounder and larger by the day by eating the lower spirits around it, and becoming more powerful.

Gojo and the kids were fanned out in front of the cursed spirit, its gaping maw almost bigger than its head. What it lacked in mobility, it made up for in brute strength. Itadori proved that by taking a hit to the back and practically bouncing like a basketball before scrambling back to formation with the others. Megumi summoned his dog to attack, going for the thing’s limbs to distract it, while Kugisaki and Itadori attacked its flanks. Gojo came in for the final blow. Nothing too hard, but the three students had their fair share of wounds at the end. So, they waited for Ijichi to take them back to the school.

As they sat on the curb, awaiting their great chariot, Gojo couldn’t help but fiddle with the note in his pocket.

“What’d Nurse-sensei make you, Gojo-sensei?” Yuji muttered through a mouth full of noodles. Gojo’s eyebrows furrowed, but as he looked at the three first years and noticed that all three had different foods in their lunches, all customized to their tastes.

Megumi swallowed a bite of shogayaki, “I wonder if she made something you actually like. I don’t think you’ve talked that much.”

Gojo wondered too, so despite himself, he opened the bento only to find it full of a variety of sweets and rice balls of different flavors and combinations topped with teriyaki sauce and sesame seeds. The bottom layer was full of sweet mochi and macarons of all different colors. Gojo’s eyes practically sparkled behind his blindfold as he took in the beautiful food laid out before him. Taped to the bottom of the lid was another note “The kids told me you have quite the sweet tooth, so I made some guesses. I hope you like it! <3 -Nurse-Sensei”

Kugisaki laughed into her hand before putting another piece of sushi in her mouth, readying a piece of watermelon. “I think you’re in love, Gojo-sensei!” She sing-songed. Gojo waved her off, his ears getting warm, before diving into the rice balls. The savory-sweet flavor with the flaky fish and the delicious sauce could bring tears to a man’s eye.

“You might be right, Nobara,” giggled Yuji. Megumi even cracked a smile. Gojo gave a quick thwack to Yuji’s head as Ijichi’s black car turned the corner.

In the passenger seat of the car, Gojo once again found himself messing with the now two notes in his pocket as he antsily waited to get back to the school and finish his meal.

Megumi stretched uncomfortably in the back seat, “I think I should pay Nurse-sensei a visit. That big curse snagged me good on my side back there.” The other two students quietly agreed, Kugisaki getting a mischievous grin.

“Gojo-sensei?” she asked, leaning up in between the two front seats.

“You should really sit back, Miss Ku-“

“Shut it, Ijichi. Why don’t you come to her office with us? Make sure we get there safe?”

“But we all know-“ The girl shut Itadori up with a jab to his bruised side.

“Please?” she begged, puppy dog eyes in full effect.

Gojo was suspicious but agreed. It gives him a chance to say thank you for the delicious lunch.

When they all got back to the school, Gojo felt ridiculous when he realized that your office was just down the hall of what was supposed to be his. As the motley crew approached your door, a small bundle of nerves spawned in Gojo’s chest and it took him a moment to think of the last time he’d truly felt nervous like this, nevertheless here he was two steps away from hyperventilating if he wasn’t careful.

“Nurse-sensei!” The three first years chimed, squeezing into your room. Gojo could hear you before he could see you. Your laugh chimed around the frame of the door, and he could feel his ear twitch and a smile creep onto his face. But the gulp of nerves bit through it a bit. As he turned the corner and stood in the doorway, he caught view of you beginning to dote on the high schoolers already. When you glanced up at him, your eyes stuttered a moment, flicking to scan him.

You gave him a bright smile, “You must be Gojo Satoru, huh?”

He gave you an ear-splitting grin back, “What happened to Mr. Greatness?” your ears went a little hot, and you let out a little chuckle. “Thanks for the food, it’s really tasty.” He said, holding up the bento box and bouncing off the door frame.

You patted the medical bed and told the three first years to hop up, “How was my guess-Yuji stop touching that.” You said, smacking his hand away from a slash that started to scab around the edges.

“Spot on,”

“The kids helped a bit.”

“We’re not kids, Nurse-sensei!” the three muttered. You rolled your eyes and continued cleaning their wounds, making quick work of them. Before Gojo even had a chance to notice, their wounds were all three completely gone. And they all looked reenergized to boot.

“That’s really something,” Gojo mumbled, sitting backwards in your unattended rolling chair. He put his elbow on its backrest and set his chin on his fist. He lightly licked his bottom lip as he analyzed your cursed energy. It flowed in a way that intrigued him, it loved to concentrate in your hands, and it moved smoothly, avoiding the rapid fiery flow of most energy. It seemed that everything about you was piquing his interest. He had to know more, he had to get you on his side. Surely you have reservations with the old man higher ups, and he could see you being an asset to his cause.

“Thank you, Nurse-sensei!” the highschoolers chimed, getting up and giving you a brief hug, Megumi staying back and merely patting your shoulder.

“Why don’t you three get on back and rest up. I have a pretty intense training session lined up for tomorrow” you said, laughing at their appalled faces. “Besides, I’ve been meaning to get to know your Gojo-sensei!” The three got up and sulked out of the room towards their living quarters, and you turned, hopping up onto the medical bed, looking down on Gojo who was still sat with his chin in his hand, admiring you a bit.

“So, this is who’s been taking care of my little protégés when I’m gone, huh?” Gojo said, “I guess they’ve been in good hands.” You scoffed playfully, grabbing your tea from the side table you laid it on before he’d come in.

“You could say that again,” you said before sipping from your now lukewarm tea. You made a face before smirking at Gojo and wrapping both hands around your mug and slowly a wisp of steam started to pour from the top of the liquid. “Never liked my hot tea cold.” You almost on reflex offered Gojo a sip of the tea.

He almost refused out of habit, but the thought popped into his head ‘Did the cursed energy affect the taste?’ so he nodded slowly and reached out a hand for the mug, rolling a bit closer so he could reach it. He grabbed the top of the mug, the tips of his fingers brushing your hand, a spark of static spooking you. He just laughed and took a sip.

“When I use my cursed energy like that, I can get a little static-y” you said, rubbing your neck and pulling at your skirt’s hem. The tea tasted good, great even. The sugar adding to the full, bitter flavor of the black tea, and the touch of milk made it creamy and smooth. The tea filled him with warmth from the inside out, and he felt a tingle in his fingertips, from the tea or touching you-he couldn’t tell.

“Hm! Still tastes good,” he said, almost to himself.

You nodded enthusiastically, “I’ve been experimenting with infusing my cursed energy into food, especially to heal people in battle when I can’t be there!”

“You could use that as a weapon too, couldn’t you?” You nodded again, leaning down almost eye to eye with Gojo.

“It would be perfect for covert missions, assassinations, anything like that! With those cursed spirits getting smarter, if we were able to use this while suppressing my soul signature we could do so much!” you had wide, thrilling eyes glimmering with ideas.

“Always loved a mad scientist,” Gojo joked.

You blushed a bit and waved him off, sitting up straight. “Not crazy, not a scientist.”

He sat up, pushing himself even closer to you in the chair, handing you your tea back, “You gotta be a little crazy to be in this line of work.”

You nodded, taking a sip of your tea and setting it back down. “Not crazy enough, sometimes.” You crossed your legs, and leant your chin on your hand, resting your elbow on your knee and looking at Gojo at eye level again. “I’ll protect those kids with my life. Those crusty old men won’t touch Yuji if I’m alive-got it Satoru?”

Gojo’s eyes widened, nodding in understanding. “Yes ma’am.”

You suddenly slid off the bed, gently taking Gojo’s face in your hands at your middle, “Let me check you out, Mr. Greatness.”

Gojo’s ears turned red at the tips, and he choked up. “I-I don’t get hurt, I’m okay,” You smiled and rolled your eyes, patting the bed anyway.

“Now,” you lightly demanded. He got up and switched places with you, sitting on the paper covered bed, “We all have scars, little wounds that never healed right.” You worked quickly and nimbly, working your fingers over the crevices of his face and torso, your eyes glowing slightly as your cursed energy flowed. Gojo could feel your energy flowing through his body-a foreign but not unwelcome feeling. It felt like a rush of cold water over his muscles and in his bloodstream, rinsing his systems and refreshing him from the inside. You moved to flutter over his legs starting over his strong thighs and over his lithe calves and he could feel his muscles relax, and the mild joint pain of a long day fade away. “See? We all could use a little refresh once in a while.”

Gojo smiled for the umpteenth time since he’d met you, “You really are something.”

And you smiled too, biting your lip and smacking his arm.

That’s how it started, you two made a little routine. You’d make Gojo and the kids bento boxes that they’d take on missions, Gojo’s you’d begun to infuse with your cursed energy to experiment with its healing properties. He’d come back with the first years, you’d heal them up, and you two would talk about the merits of the food and would talk for a while.

---

One day the pattern of course had to shift. One day Gojo was called on a mission. No kids. Just him and Nanami Kento. Clearly whatever it was, was powerful. It was going to be intense. And intense it was. Gojo came out fine, as expected, but lugged Nanami into your office with heaving breaths and his eyes uncovered, full of tears.

“Help him!” he begged, shoving Nanami onto the medical bed, not even giving you a chance to stand from your desk. In desperation, Gojo grabbed you by the arm, slamming your hand onto an uninjured part of the blond’s body. He was bleeding from multiple gashes and was fading in and out of consciousness.

You shook off the shock and got to work, letting your cursed energy flow into Kento’s body. You felt the energy move through his veins, finding all the gouges, cuts, bruises and began closing the blood vessels and redirecting it where it belonged. His wounds were severe, so it took longer than it usually did when you were just healing up one of the kids after a run-of-the-mill mission.

“What’s taking so long,” Gojo shakily asked, gripping your medical coat, and shoving his head in your shoulder.

“He’s coming along, Satoru,” You muttered, leaning your head back into his. “Sit down, your tea is on my desk on the warmer.” After this became routine you bought a tea warmer for Gojo and a mug for him to keep in your office so you could share a cup while discussing your students. Gojo just gripped your coat harder and dug his head in your shoulder, wrapping his other arm around your waist and shoving his head in the crook of your shoulder. “Please, hon. I promise I’ll tell you the second I’m done.” You felt a rush of cold against your neck as he got up, his tears cooling your skin.

Gojo sat in your chair and grabbed the tea off the warmer and shakily took a sip. The warm, sweet liquid flowed down his throat and almost made him take a deep breath, his hands steadying just that little bit more.

You were hard at work for what felt like hours still, and if he wasn’t so wrecked by nerves, Gojo would have probably fallen asleep.

“He just needs to sleep now,” you said, slumping against your desk next to where Gojo had laid his head. You gently threaded your fingers through his stark white hair, quietly sighing as you took a sip from Gojo’s tea-yours long gone cold.

“I wish you could heal my brain,” Gojo whispered.

You took a start, looking down at the invincible man under your fingers. You thought for a moment, chewing on your lip before shaking your head and sinking down to the floor, able to see Gojo’s eyes clearly, now dry but hollow almost. “Beautiful…” you whispered, it was practically ripped from your lips, while placing your hand on his cheek. His eyes flicked to yours, taking you in again. “I can’t heal your brain the way you want. You know that, but I hope my being here for you helps…whatever little it does.” Suddenly he could really take in your paled face and your dark circles under your eyes that weren’t that way this morning.

His jaw clenched, and suddenly he felt selfish. Gojo Satoru felt selfish. Here you were, tired after constantly waiting up for him, helping him, healing everyone else, and here he was again-crying, drinking your tea, and making you sit on the fucking floor. But still, he couldn’t help but be a little more selfish. “Stay with me tonight?” the words spilling out before his brain could stop them.

Your eyebrows raised, but that was the extent of your shock or rejection, because before he could even try to backtrack, you were rubbing his cheek with your thumb and nodding with a soft smile. ‘Of course, you said yes.’ He thought. He shouldn’t expect any different at this point, that’s just who you are.

“Your place or mine?” You asked with a chuckle. His eyes squeezed shut with a pained grin at the innuendo. He’d love that, but that’s not what tonight is. That’s not what tonight should be either.

“Mine?”

“Nanami will be okay through the night. He’s just exhausted now and needs to reenergize himself. He’s been through the wringer, poor guy.” You said, grabbing Gojo’s hand and leading him towards the door. You stopped in the doorway only to take off your medical coat and hang it and other equipment on pegs next to it. You turned off the lights with one last look at Nanami and padded down the hall with Gojo in tow, still holding tightly to the tall man’s hand. He couldn’t help but stare down at your conjoined limbs, and he subconsciously reached into his pocket with his free hand, gently rubbing the edge of today’s note. “Come home safe, Mr. Greatness <3-Nurse-sensei” you had stuck to the sign-off even though you’re on a first-name basis, saying it’s just something you’d gotten used to, with signing the kid’s notes the same way. Gojo kept reassuring you he wouldn’t be hurt and not to worry, but you couldn’t help but wait with bated breath for the day he gets rolled into your office and you’re pouring all your energy into healing him until the sun rises. It was comforting sometimes, someone not thinking Gojo was immortal. Even if it meant you were worried about him.

When the two of you reached his door, you looked back at him expectantly, seeing as he would have the key, and he stumbled with the ring, almost missing the lock. You chuckled and pushed the door open as he turned on the light. You whistled softly, looking around the room.

“So, this is where the great Gojo Satoru lives?” you scanned the space, taking note of the offshoot bedroom and the small-spotless-kitchen. “Looks an awful lot like mine. Except I actually cook in my kitchen,” you teased.

Gojo closed the door behind you, heat creeping up his neck, both of you kicking off your shoes.

“Guess you don’t have to do much of that with me around, huh?” The white-haired man started to grumble about how he shouldn’t have invited you over when you whirled around with a smile and asked what he needed right now, “Sleep, food, rom coms and ice cream?”

He shook his head and started to feel how deeply sleep was settling into his bones, “As tempting as that last one is, I really want to go to sleep,” he watched you smile, like you always did, and reach behind him, turning off the light, and grab his hand again, leading him towards his bedroom. When inside you went over to the lamp, tuned it on, and made Gojo sit on the mattress.

“Where are your pajamas, Satoru?” You said as you began to head towards his dresser like a woman on a mission, he panicked but wasn’t fast enough, you opened his top left drawer and inside you saw a small basket full of all the notes you had written Gojo. No matter how torn up they’d gotten in the heat of battle, or food stained by his own mistake, he kept them. He had every single one. He’d look at them, read them on rough nights alone, and they helped him through a lot. More than you’d ever know. You slowly turned to him, a soft gasp on your face, and a note in your hand. “You kept them all?”

Gojo put his head in his hands and nodded, “You weren’t supposed to see that…” You couldn’t drop the massive grin on your face, but you dropped it for now.

“About those pajamas,” you said.

“Second drawer from the top on the left.”

You nodded and opened the drawer, grabbing out a soft shirt and pants set, throwing them at Gojo. “Go get cleaned up and changed. I’m guessing that’s a bathroom?” gesturing to the door attached to the bedroom. Gojo nodded and got up, trudging to the tiled room.

‘Bossy’ he thought, ‘I like it.’ he shook his head and splashed his face with water from the sink. When he was done changing, he looked himself over in the mirror, staring at his own eyes for a moment. Looking at the thing that defined him to so many, ‘but not her.’ He thought. You never were even interested in his power most of the time. He always thought he’d want someone who’d worship him. Someone who would make him feel like the god he is, but then there’s you. Someone who made him feel like…him. Like a regular person, on the same level as each other. He liked feeling equal to you. Could he take you in a fight? Probably, yeah. Did that matter-oddly no. Not with you. He filled his lungs to capacity and threw his soiled uniform in the laundry and turned off the bathroom light.

When he opened the door into his bedroom again, he was confused to find you with a few spare blankets and pillows from the hall closet, setting up on the ground.

“Hurry on to bed, Gojo! I’m almost through setting myself up.”

“Oh no you don’t!” he exclaimed, grabbing you around the middle, and tossing you onto his bed. “You are absolutely not sleeping on the floor! I know how to share, weirdo!”

You squirmed, standing on your knees on the bed, grabbing onto Gojo to steady yourself on the mattress so you could look him in the eye, “I don’t want to intrude on your spa-!“

“I invited you, stupid.”

“Why would I have just assumed that you’d let me sleep in you-“

“Why would you assume I’d make you sleep on the floor?”

You paused, ears running red, but you couldn’t resist the joke, “Are you trying to get in bed with me, Satoru?” he sighed in exasperation, shoving you backwards onto your back.

“Will you get ready for bed already?” he muttered as he moved over to find a t-shirt and gym shorts for you to wear. “Here,” he tossed the set at you over his shoulder, them landing on your head.

“Jeez, now you’re trying to get me out of my pants!” Gojo whirled, exasperated and shoved your laughing frame into the bathroom and shut the door. When he was alone, he ran a hand through his hair and decidedly flopped onto the bed over the blankets. Finally, after muffled yelling into the covers, he brought himself up to sit against the headboard. ‘Why did I do this to myself?’ he thought.

“Ta da!” You sarcastically sang, posing in the door, wearing Gojo’s clothes. You’d even stolen one of Gojo’s pairs of sunglasses he had left in the bathroom to complete the look. They didn’t exactly fit, but Gojo couldn’t help but stare with a smile. He loved the sight of you in them.

You chuckled your way over to the bed, hopping up next to Gojo, and dropping your clothes folded onto the ground. He took in the sight of you, right next to him, your scent mixing with his cologne-his new favorite smell, your eyes hidden by his sunglasses, and your hair haphazardly put out of your face from your day’s work. And while he stared, he could feel his heart skip a beat. You were staring back-inches from his own gaze.

“Let’s get some sleep, Satoru,” you whispered, sliding his sunglasses off your nose and gently shoving them onto his head. He nodded, putting the glasses onto his side table and turning off his lamp. They both slid under his blankets, laying on their backs.

“Thank you,” Gojo whispered, grabbing for your hand. You brought it up to his and turned on your side, facing him. “You’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met- “

“-and I’ve met me.” You both chimed, you mimicking Gojo with a grin he could just feel.

“I’m serious.” He said, bring your hand up to his face and placing it against his chin, now grabbing it with both of his hands, “I think I’d do anything for you,” he mumbled, gently pressing his lips to your knuckles-not quite a kiss, but not not one either. He’d leave that up to you.

You reached up with your free hand and stroked his cheekbone with your knuckles, brushing his fluttering eyelashes with your pointer finger. “I’d burn the world for you, Gojo Satoru. And I’d bring it back if you just asked.” You whispered, resting your forehead against his hands holding yours, and curling your body into him, tangling your legs together. He responded by wrapping his arms around your neck and pulling you ever closer, half onto his chest, stroking your hair.

---

And that’s how you woke up, wrapped in Gojo’s arms, tangled beneath the sheets as the sun shone through the curtains. You glanced at the man’s alarm clock and a jolt of panic shot through you when you read the time. You were both late for training the kids. And you knew it was only a matter of time before they came looking. It was one of their favorite days, after all. A training day with “mom and dad” as they’d dubbed the two of you.

“Gojo!” You whisper yelled, tapping his chest rapidly, “Satoru!” you whined. He didn’t budge, his eyes closed tight. You felt horrible disturbing his peaceful sleep, but you really didn’t want to explain to the first years that no, you and Gojo weren’t sleeping together, you just slept together. “Satoru-kun! Baby, come on!” Still, the man was like stone!

Finally, you gave up, gently banging your head against the man’s chest. You tried gentler methods, you really did! “Here goes,” you rested your pointer finger on his nose and channeled a strong static shock to his unsuspecting face.

His eyes shot open, and his hand practically slammed into his face to get rid of the sensation. “The hell-“

“GOJO-SENSEI! NURSE-SENSEI IS MISSING!” Itadori’s brash yelling could be heard from far down the hall. You and Gojo shared a wide-eyed look of panic as you both scrambled to look presentable.

“Bathroom!” Gojo whispered, violently gesturing you to hide in the bathroom, unceremoniously throwing you your clothes from your side of the bed. You caught them as best you could and rushed into the bathroom, locking the door. Gojo whipped the sunglasses from his bedside table onto his face and rushed to his dresser to grab out his normal training attire, shoving off his night clothes. He could hear the kids banging on his front door, scared for their precious Nurse-sensei. Just as Gojo shoved his pants button in place and zipped up, the three broke through his front door.

“Gojo-sensei!” the first years were shocked to find their sensei in a state of disarray. Huffing breath, wrinkled clothes, no shoes, and instead of his usual blindfold, he had on one of his pairs of civilian wear sunglasses.

“Kids!” he welcomed, shoving his bedroom door closed. The three eyed him with obvious suspicion. Itadori in particular kept a wide berth from the tall man, but inched closer to the door Gojo was clearly trying to protect.

The first years shared a shifty look and a nod before jumping to action. Kugisaki and Megumi jumped to grab Gojo’s arms and hold him down as Yuji ran and burst open the bedroom door, frantically looking around every surface before resorting to opening the dreaded bathroom door.

“Itadori-no!” Gojo yelled, tempted to use cursed energy on the kids, but last minute decided against eviscerating the brats. Unfortunately, that meant that Itadori opened the door.

“Nurse-sensei!” Yuji yelled, appalled. He had caught you, still in Gojo’s clothes, trying to sneak out the bathroom window.

“Hi, Yuji…” you muttered, trying to cover up the obvious fact of your bra not being on you, and still on Gojo’s floor with your clothes from yesterday.

“Explain!” Kugisaki exclaimed, following Itadori into Gojo’s bedroom. That’s when she saw your bra. Because of course she did. She let out a squeal at the sight, “You two had sex!” she yelled.

“No!” You and Gojo yelled, you trudging in to stand by the man who had recovered physically from the kids’ tackle but not emotionally and gently pat his shoulder.

“Then explain this!” Kugisaki exclaimed, holding up your bra for all three males to see. You flushed red, snatching it from her.

Gojo’s cheeks also began to flush, “You weren’t wearing a bra last night?”

“No! They’re uncomfortable to sleep in!” you swatted Gojo’s arm with just enough cursed energy to sting.

“You’re that cruel, Gojo-sensei!” Yuji shook his head, ashamed of his mentor.

“Why would she even be with such a guy,” Kugisaki joined the head shaking.

“Such a selfish lover,” Megumi agreed.

Gojo was confused, hopelessly. So, you had to clear the fog in his poor little brain, you took a deep breath as you leaned up to quietly state, “Satoru, they think you don’t…you don’t um…”do foreplay”.” You explained with quotes around some of your words. “They think you don’t give head.” You giggled out, whispering in his ear.

Gojo’s jaw dropped lower than you thought it could, and his face got redder than you’d ever seen, “I’ll have you children know, I am a very generous lover, and I give excellent he-“you cut him off by slapping his mouth closed, doubled over with laughter.

The three looked grossed out, but still unconvinced.

“We really didn’t do anything like that, we just decided to have a sleepover while Nanami Kento is resting in my office since we were both so stressed. Satoru was kind enough to not make me wear my work clothes to sleep. Really.” You explained, hoping the truth would seep through their thick skulls.

They nodded suspiciously, but allowed the two of you to properly get ready, waiting outside the building Gojo lives in.

“Very generous, huh?” you chuckled with warm cheeks.

Gojo’s face flushed again, the tips of his ears bordering crimson, “You were supposed to find that out on your own, Nurse-sensei,” He purred with an air of comedy, “Guess now you can at least test the theory.”

You rolled your eyes, but never one to back down, you grabbed Gojo’s sunglasses and put them on your own face again and gripped him by the collar and pulled him close, so close your lips brushed his as you spoke, “Why don’t you show me, Mr. Greatness.”

---

Unfortunately for you both, that had to wait until later. Much later. The kids were in for a grueling day of conditioning and combat training, going Justu-less for hand-to-hand combat against you, which proved to be a daunting challenge. While Gojo’s Jutsus were immense and overbearing at how powerful they were, you were a fierce melee combatant who could use any environment to your advantage, your knowledge of the human body an immeasurable asset in disabling the kids, even the formidable Itadori Yuji wasn’t much fuss to defeat for you. In fact, you expected better from the three, which you let them know. In spades. When you two were done with them at sundown, they were exhausted, and ready for you to heal them up and make them feel better.

“No!” you said. The three high schoolers looked at you in horror, “You three were being rude, poking into my, and Satoru’s business! If you wanted nice Nurse-sensei today who’d heal you all up and make sure you didn’t go home sore tonight, you should have been nice this morning! Our business is our business, and if we let you know it, that’s the only time you should become privy to our private information. Got it?” they sluggishly nodded. “May your soreness be a lesson to you!” you exclaimed, ushering them up for the long walk back to their dormitories.

“Look at you, miss mean teacher.” Gojo chuckled.

You made a face, “Leave the nicknames to me, hon.” He nodded, brushing your pinky with his. “Check on Nanami then rom coms and ice cream?” you asked, grasping his hand. He nodded.

---

“Matthew McConaughey is doing Kate Hudson so dirty in this one,” Gojo mumbled through a large bite of the tub of white chocolate raspberry ice cream. He found out when he came to stay the night at your little slice of the world that you also make homemade ice cream! Like who does that? So, when he picked out this flavor out of the mix of options you had on hand, you were ecstatic to share.

“It’ll end well though,” you insist, “always does in these.”

Gojo nodded, noticing you beginning to lean his way a bit. “You can lay on me if you want,” he urged, moving the ice cream off his lap to the coffee table. You looked hesitantly between him and his lap, covered by your plush blanket. He laughed, “here,” he readjusted himself, so he was laying against the corner between the couch arm and the back, his legs sprawling behind you, and gestured you to lay on top of him and cuddle. You bit your lip with a small grin before pulling back his end of the blanket and slotting yourself on top of him, facing the television. He wrapped his arms around you and tangled his long legs with yours. You settled, intertwined with him and began to softly stroke patterns into his wrist and arms.

“You’re pretty comfy.” You muttered, straining your neck to look at Gojo, who’s upside down face gazed onto yours fondly.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhmm. I slept like a baby last night, and I’m already feeling a bit sleepy now,” you huffed out with a smile.

Gojo gave you that handsome smirk, and urged you to flip over, now laying on him chest to chest. “Want me to keep you up?” he joked, nudging your nose with his.

You again just barely brushed your lips with his as you spoke, “Buy me dinner first, Gojo. Satoru.” You punctuated your words just enough to apply slight pressure to the almost kiss.

He couldn’t take it anymore and ran his hand through the hair at the base of your neck, coaxing you forwards into a tender, brief kiss that felt so not him. So, when he pulled away to gauge your reaction with those big, beautiful eyes, you gave him only a moment to see your wide grin before closing the gap again. You kissed him with a fervor one would expect from himself, but he was so scared of ruining this, he let you take the lead. Your lips slotted against each other like long lost puzzle pieces, and you both could taste the cold, creamy remnants of the ice cream on each other’s tongues as you gained access.

You pulled away for a second, him following your lips, leaning up to chase where you had left. You weren’t going to leave him hanging, though. You pulled away, gesturing for Gojo to readjust to a sitting position so you could straddle him, still resting on his thighs, not broaching too far. But as you kneeled above him, legs on either side of him, holding his face with your soft hands, so close to your breasts, Gojo swore he saw a goddess above him. In that moment he swore he saw heaven, earth, and every realm between. He wasn’t using his cursed energy, but he swore he saw infinity. That’s when you leant down and captured his lips again, and his world came crashing back, here you were, his personal goddess to worship, and he your god. Fuck what he thought about you making him feel normal, you merely made him want to worship the way he knew he should be and that’s all the better. And god was he ready to make an offering.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and fiddled with his hair with a tug that shot a soft moan from his throat. You swallowed the sound with a grin, tickling the roof of his mouth with your tongue, and biting his lip as you pulled back so you could begin kissing his jaw, pulling his head back ever so softly with your grip on his hair. You began to nip on the sorcerer’s taught throat column, feeling the rush of his pulse beneath your lips, kissing over where you might have gotten a bit rough. Gojo moved his hands over your sides towards your hips, beginning to thumb the waistband of his shorts you had put back on for relaxing together tonight.

“God you’re amazing,” he whispered, uttering your name like a prayer. “Better than I ever dreamed,” You nipped his collarbone in response, diving your hands under the hem of his shirt, feeling the nimble muscles beneath his smooth skin. “Yes ma’am,” he muttered, letting you sit back on your haunches so he could rip off his t-shirt, and toss it somewhere towards the kitchen. You devoured him with your eyes and hands, eventually with your tongue as well, tasting your prize. You ran your mouth over his chest and abdomen, sliding lower and lower as you went, kissing every piece of him in your path. When you finally reached your destination, you looked up at Gojo through your lashes, grabbing his waistband in your teeth and snapping it.

“Another time, for now I have a point to prove!” he jokes, using what little leverage he had to grab you and shift his hold to under your thighs and stood. Bringing you with him. “Bedroom?” he asked. You nodded towards the short hallway off the living room, the door on the left. Gojo grinned and started over towards it, carrying you with ease. You busy yourself with leaving a hickey on this one spot of Gojo’s neck that almost made his knees buckle, much to his chagrin, and fuel for your actual grin. When he got into your room, he made quick work of laying you down on your mattress, taking in your appearance under the moonlight that filtered through the window opposite the door. As he took you in, your face flushed, and he began stroking his hands over your legs from knee to hip under those damned gym shorts. It should almost be illegal for you to look that good in his clothes. Almost.

“You always do that, Satoru,” You trail off, averting those pretty eyes from his.

“What?” he teased, leaning down over you, face inches from yours again.

“Stare.” You stated, pecking him before nudging him off with your foot, sitting now, but still in your spot where he laid you. “Makes me feel like you’re…scrutinizing me or something.” You said with a wrinkled nose.

Gojo kneeled on the floor in between your legs, dragging you forward by your hips, “Just looking at how beautiful you are, I mean, I can look all I want now. Can you blame me?” he asked, kissing the inside of your knee, wrapping his arms around your thighs, and resting his head on the plush of one, his big blue eyes filtering through those white lashes, still staring at your godly face.

“Where’d you come from, Gojo Satoru?” You asked, love clear in your gaze, an emotion Gojo only hoped to see from you days ago. “You really were made just for me, weren’t you?” you muttered.

“I was just thinking the same thing about you, love.” He said, beginning to tug on the waistband of those purely criminal shorts. “Now please take these off before I rip em off.” You grinned and lifted your hips so he could take them off and look at your beautiful legs all on their own. He ran his hands up and down the sides, taking in every bump, freckle, and curve. “And the underwear? Or at least the damned shirt.”

“How about both?” Gojo lit up, ready to help, he started pulling down on your waistband with one hand, and the hem of your tank top with the other. “On one condition,” you surmised, placing a finger under his chin. He deflated, resting his head against your leg again. “You’ll like it.”

He perked back up, kissing the inside of your thigh, and giving a gentle bite to the meat there, “Whatcha need, baby?”

You sat back on your hands, arching your back a bit. “You need to show me exactly what that dirty little mind has been dreaming of Satoru. How exactly you want me, okay honey?” you finished by dragging your top town a bit by the top hem, not enough for them to pop out, just enough to show you weren’t wearing a bra again. Gojo could feel his mouth watering at the sight, and lord was he willing to fulfill your request.

“Okay, you have to trust me,” Gojo muttered, rising to his feet again, laying a deep kiss on your lips, all his blood rushing south from his brain. You didn’t help when you broke the embrace to finally take off your tank top, placing his hands just under your breasts, encouraging him to explore as he liked. Explore he did. He mouthed over your chest, his cool hands pebbling your nipples, and grasping the mounds beneath them. “Let me lay down, alright?” he whispered, pecking your lips, before taking off his sweatpants and hopping on top of your mattress, head resting on your plush pillows. He settled down, gesturing for you to straddle him again. You obliged, and he rested his hands on your hips again, grinding your core on his length, concentrating along your clit, dragging as many huffs of air and low whines he could from you until he could feel a wet patch forming on his crotch from your arousal.

You moaned, and nipped under his ear when he made you stop, trying to let you continue the delicious friction. “Please, Satoru. Don’t be mean.” You muttered.

“How I want you, remember?” he trilled, nipping you back on the base of your neck. You nodded and stilled your squirming. Ready for his next request. “Now come on up. Take a seat, love.” He chuckled, gently trying to coax you to hover above his face so he could devour you from beneath your comforting weight.

Your ears burned red hot, “I’ve never done that before. You sure you’ll like it?” you asked, looking down to his smooth chest, hands still on his shoulders.

He squeezed your hips reassuringly, “Oh yeah, baby.” He said, taking your left hand in his right and leading it to his mouth and leaving a kiss on your palm. “Been wanting to since I saw you in that damned nurse’s skirt.” He kissed your thumb and gently nipped the tip of it between his teeth.

You raised yourself up and off him, he was scared he’d messed everything up, scared you off, but that’s when he saw you were maneuvering your underwear off your legs. As you were about to toss them in the dirty laundry in the dark, Gojo grabbed your wrist, “Since we’re getting risky with these requests on my part, what’s one more? Can I keep those?” he laughed at the ludicrous question, but the glint in your eye told him you were by no means turned off by it. You agreed and while holding his gaze, you hung the pair on the side of your headboard, so he knew exactly where they were tomorrow morning. His face hurt he was smiling so much, “You’re heaven-sent,” he assured, gripping a handful of the dough of your ass as you straddled his chest, knees on either side of his head.

“If you’re having trouble breathing, or you need me off for any reason, tap my leg twice.” You said, “Show me what you’ll do if you need me off, Satoru.” Gojo’s smile softened, tapping your left thigh twice. You took a deep breath and hovered yourself fully over his head, he looped his arms around your legs from below and pulled your core down onto his face, “Holy shit-“ you exclaimed, cut off by a moan as Gojo got right to work, lapping at your little bundle of nerves, making you shutter and you found yourself resisting the urge to ride the man’s face. But like the outrageous man he is, he read your mind. Using the leverage he had from his grip on your hips, you felt yourself being shifted back and forth, he was fucking you on his tongue. The muscle slid over your slit, urging its way inside while your clit continued to run along the length of his nose. You braced yourself against the headboard with one hand, and the other you used to grip Gojo’s hair at the root as a lifeline.

Gojo moaned into your core, and you found yourself throwing your head back, begging for more. He happily obliged, reaching one of his hands around to reach in one of his fingers into you, moving his tongue back to your clit, circling it with precision. ‘Better than the damn ice cream.’ He thought as he continued his torrent on you. Just that thought made the man rut into the air without even realizing. But you did. Next thing Gojo knows, he’s forced to withdraw his tongue in his mouth and come up for air because you reached down one of your lithe hands and grasped him through his boxers. You drew a long groan from the man’s throat, his eyes screwed shut. You shifted your hand under his waistband and began to gently stroke the tip with your thumb before grasping his shaft and pushing his boxers down far enough to give you full access to his length. Gojo pinched your thigh. You almost got off him before you remembered that wasn’t the signal. He doesn’t want you off. “You first, love.”

You pouted, “But you look so pitiful down there like that,” you said, eyeing his weeping tip. “Let me help?” He was tempted to say yes, but merely tempted.

“You put those hands back up here and ride my face like a cowgirl till you’re red in the face. Then, we can solve my little issue, okay?” Gojo demanded, once again pinching your thigh. You reluctantly put him back in his boxers, but that reluctance disappeared when Gojo added another finger and amped up the intensity. You had both hands supporting you from behind as you braced them against his abdomen, your breasts bouncing with the movement of Gojo rotating you along his tongue. You couldn’t help but peer down at Gojo with the new angle and was quickly finding the peak a lot faster than before as you stared into his blue eyes, tears pricking on the edges from denial to himself and yet hazed over from rendering himself pussy drunk under you.

“God, you’re perfect, Satoru.” You babbled, unable to tear your eyes off his, them staring straight back. “Made just for me, all mine.” He barely was able to nod in agreement, adding another finger-three now-into you, stretching you beautifully and bringing you ever closer to jumping off the cliff into the deep waters of pleasure below. Still, he kept up his same speed, his stamina relentless as he continued to fuck your clit against his tongue and pump is fingers in and out of you at a ruthless pace. You grew ever closer to the edge, but not quick enough for Gojo’s liking, so he changed tactics for a moment, maintaining his fingering, but adding suction to your clit, grazing the hood with his teeth, and that did it. You all but screamed, white knuckle gripping Gojo’s hips from above, sure to leave a mark if he’ll let it. And as he continued to finger fuck you through your high, you thought he just might.

When he finally gave you a chance to catch your breath, he took out his fingers and began to slowly lap up the remnants around your core of your orgasm. Only when he was satisfied did you feel two taps on your thigh. You obliged, sliding down Gojo’s torso, resting your head in the crook of his shoulder, wrapping your sweat slick arms around his head, again threading your fingers through his hair.

“Point proven,” You muttered, kissing his neck and whispering “Now about your little problem,” in his ear, nuzzling his earlobe and grinding your sensitive core against his clothed length.

He groaned and wrapped his arms around your middle. “Two minutes, baby. Sensitive, keep going and I might jizz in my pants like a highschooler.” Gojo huffed, gnawing his lip. Your eyes sparkled at the assertion, peering in his eyes with mischief.

“You really got off that hard on eating me out?” You asked, sitting up on his waist, ass grazing the tip of his cock through the thin fabric of his boxers.

His cheeks ran red, bleeding blush onto his chest. His pretty blues avoided your hunting gaze. Only when you shifted backwards a bit did he look at you again, and it was brief as he squeezed his eyes shut tight, gripping your shoulders tight. “Please, baby, wanna cum with you, not like this,” He gasped, pawing at your heartstrings. Unfortunately, you’re not heartless so you softened, laying back down and resorting to kissing his neck, leaving marks along his collarbone, and feeling up his sides with featherlight touches. This kept his heartrate up and his lashes fluttering as he kneaded your ass and gave you access to everything you wanted in the meantime.

“Always wanted to make a guy cum in his pants,” You mumble, nipping the shell of his ear.

His grip on you tightened further, as he let out a whine. “Two damned minutes, love, that’s all I ask for!”

You huffed a laugh, “I can’t even talk?” you teased, tracing circles around his pebbled nipples.

“Not like that!” he asserted, throwing his head back in frustration and letting out another whine of denial. “Let me catch my damned breath, you minx!” You giggled, and asked if you should leave the room, which he immediately shot down with a deep, hard kiss to your lips and a grope of your ass.

You pulled away, pecking him on the lips before moving on to pecking him across his face. “How can I when you’re just so perfect and hot, and you’re right here like a big, beautiful present for me?” you queried between your barrage of pecks. You expected a laugh but when you peered into his crystal eyes again, he looked at you like you had hung the moon, like you were the sun itself warming him and giving him life. And in some ways, you were to him. Sometimes he found himself straying from where he should on his path to power, success, and happiness, but ever since he’s had you, he’s found his way back quicker and quicker. You are by far the best thing that has come into his life, and he’ll be damned if you don’t know it.

With that breather, you could feel his drive picking up underneath you, no cursed energy required. So, you tested the waters again, gently grinding your core across his length. His breath hitched but he grinned and nodded ‘Game on.’ You thought, reaching over him to your bedside drawer for the box of condoms you had stashed there. He eyed you when you brought out the wrapper and as you sat up you gulped down your nerves and admitted that “I bought them a little while after we started getting close. I had high hopes, I guess.” He outright belly laughed at that one, nodding and admitting to the same thing. Leading you to do the same, smacking his arm. Regardless, you got your wits about you and moved between the man’s thighs as he still chuckled away, palming him in his boxers to quiet him down. And quiet down he did, his eyes shooting open and rolling back in his head at the feeling. You made quick work of his boxers, freeing his aching cock and marveling the sight. His gaze was piercing as you gently stroked him up and down, spreading his precum along his length and working your nimble fingers over him to roll on the condom.

“How do you want me, Satoru?” you asked, idly stroking him around his shaft, avoiding the tip now. Call him cheesy, but Gojo wanted to go traditional missionary for your first time, maybe put you on top at the end. There’s plenty of time to try new positions and techniques later. Right now, he wants you close and he wants you now. So, he rolled you off him, onto your back, and after making sure you’re comfortable, him insisting on putting a pillow under your hips for your back and him doting on you some more, you grabbed Gojo’s face and shoved your lips against his, your tongues clashing immediately while you reached down and aligned his tip with your entrance.

He took the hint and braced himself above you, one hand next to your head and the other against the headboard for support before pushing in, only making it halfway before you both needed a brief pause, he could feel you clenching around him with the stretch, and it made his hips stutter at the feeling. See, you don’t know this, but it had been a while for Gojo. He was in a dry spell for a good while before you came along, and when he laid eyes on you, he couldn’t look at another girl the same way, even when the opportunity popped up, he couldn’t bring himself to. All he kept wishing was that they were you, so he had to decline, the thought of seeing you the next day too enticing for him to even want to sleep with other women. And anytime he found himself hot below the collar, he could only think of you again, but it felt wrong to touch himself to you, so he resorted to thinking of gross, or simply the least arousing things he could, to cope. So, Gojo was sensitive. And that fact was hitting him like a bag of bricks as he buried himself to the hilt in your heat.

You clenched and fluttered below Gojo as you clawed at his hair and wrapped your legs around his waist, holding him in-bottomed out. You both began to pant as the throbbing heat continued at your join. You bucked your hips on a reflex and both of you moaned out wildly, Gojo gripping the pillow next to your head like his life depended on it. “God, I don’t know how long I’m gonna last,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Just seeing you like this has me close, Satoru,” you muttered, nuzzling his ear, “Just go for it, whatever happens, happens.”

He nodded, and dragged his length out slowly and shoved it in, gasping at the sensation. But he soldiered on, chasing both of your highs as best he could, pistoning into you. You moaned your encouragements, leaving long drags of your nails across his back. Gojo was spurred on further by the sting and he kept on, grabbing your left leg and pinning it up, holding it by the knee. The new angle gave him access to that wonderful spot inside of you, and you cried out, digging your nails deep into his skin.

He let out a deep, guttural groan and kept hitting that spot, over and over like it was all he knew how to do, and sure enough you were running towards that cliff again, this time hand in hand with Gojo Satoru when suddenly you could feel his resolve faltering, and he gripped your hips fiercely, flipping the two of you without losing a beat. The mere action enough to make that run a dead sprint, but the way he helped you bounce on his length, now digging into his abs with those piercing nails, him still reaching all the best parts inside of you, it was divine. You kept pace now, letting the man beneath you almost bliss out as you took the reins. Him merely stroking your thighs as you rode him all the way to the finish line. You looked down at him properly, and again, eye contact with the beautiful man was enough to send you tumbling, along with him. You both cried out, tears pricking the edge of both of your eyes as you came, vigorously riding off your highs. You could feel Gojo filling the condom inside you, sad you couldn’t take the risk to have been completely connected.

When you both caught your breath, you slowly pulled yourself off him, collapsing next to Gojo on your bed. He reached down and took off the condom, tied it off and threw it away in the trash next to your bed.

“Wow,” you muttered.

“Wow,” Gojo agreed.

“The kids are gonna see these marks, aren’t they?” you muttered, looking the man next to you over.

“I’m not letting you heal them, so yes. Absolutely.” He rasped, cuddling you closer to him.

“Not it” You called, raising your hand. Gojo frowned, sticking out his tongue at you, “Now that I know how you can use that thing, you better put it away or be ready for round two Mister.”

Gojo felt a laugh rip from his chest, and he couldn’t help but grab you around the middle and pull you on top of him for another kiss.

---

“A cat attack, Gojo-sensei?” The first years questioned as the group mowed down their bentos for the day.

The man nodded resolutely, “Of course, what other kind of ferocious beasty could have done this?” Gojo chuckled.

Nanami was sat beside the white-haired man, peering over his shoulder at the note that you had left him in his lunch that day, and nodded, “Yeah, some pussy really got him good.” He agreed, a slight smirk on his face. The kids began to realize, noticing the dark hickies under Gojo’s collar. Gojo’s eyes widened behind his glasses, and he thwacked Nanami on the arm. Nanami whispered quieter, “A nursing pussy, has three little kitte-“ Gojo kicked Nanami off of the chair next to him with enough force to send him flying a good ways.

“And I’m not getting you healed this time!” Gojo yelled.

“You owe me a new pair of undies, Mr. Greatness. <3 -Nurse-sensei”

[moondyad]

i believe that the reason this debate even exists is because Finn ended up with a way more interesting backstory and character than Rey did. which is definitely the movies' male writers' faults.

an ex-stormtrooper who ends up being force sensitive and chooses to train to become a Jedi, mixed with all his overwhelming fear of the FO and wanting to run as far as he can from anyone and anything he even briefly gets attached to is such an interesting character. Rey's character was written in such a way that yes, she does have that "darkness" within her, but there never really is a moment where we wonder if that darkness could consume her. and that's it, that's the only back and forth or interesting thing they could come up with for her. and it never comes to fruition. struggling on a desert planet is not a new backstory for star wars fans. and i'm not really going to count her being Palpatine's granddaughter as an interesting character trait because i think that earned the biggest groan when it was revealed.

i definitely don't get the misogyny of the argument. they could have made Finn a black woman instead. but i do understand why some people might have been way more interested in his story simply because it was more creative and held more depth than what was written for Rey. it's not Rey's or even Daisy's fault for how... boring? Rey's character ended up, it's completely on the writers who failed to make their lead actually interesting.

one thing that i do not understand about people is the fact that some genuinely believe that finn would’ve been a better main character than rey

what is the logic behind it?

do you think that if it was a male lead, the writing of the sequels would’ve gotten miraculously better or that the story would’ve been more interesting and original?

stop hiding your misogyny behind star wars, it’s not working, we can all see it

seriously, grow up

[baewall]

Bit of a spoiler to datv romances but not really. Just opinions and no details.

I'm sorry to tell you Mary Kirby thought she did a thing but she in fact did not. That or ea deleted a bunch of the stuff she wrote for Lucanis, but I doubt it. She was fired after she finished writing and the way she talks about it seems like she genuinely thought she wrote a steamy romance.

The romances in datv are very lacking imho. I'm on my third playthrough, First romanced Emmrich (who is actually very sweet and well written). Then Lucanis, which is great but feels very barren and unfinished. And then Neve, which was decent and I enjoyed it but I wanted more.

I expected the rest to be in the range of those three but after watching them on youtube I fear only Emmrich and Davrin have a full and well written romance. The rest is very safe and limited, like they had to rush to finish writing it. I'm actually very sad about it.

That is not to say there aren't any cute and neat moments though. But bioware did not deliver in the romance department as they promised in all those promo posts etc. They said romance was a main focus and they just straight up lied imho.

Oh that's interesting! I haven't finished the game yet, so maybe it still picks up, but so far it's felt a little bit lackluster in the romance department. There have definitely been cute and sweet moments so far, just lacking any real intimacy.

It just feels like they could have done sooo many interesting, spicy and exciting things with the Rook/Lucanis/Spite dynamic and none of it really happens. BUT I'm hoping there will be plenty good fanfiction and fanart to scratch that itch eventually.

[slackerlifewhere]

The female characters

As usual, this post might have SPOILERS about the first volume of TCF so if you don't want to see this, please don't continue. Thanks!

___

There's this problem I've noticed as a reader of several novels. It's the reason why I skipped or dropped a lot of novels that disappointed me despite their good plot.

The female characters are either barely in the story, they suck, or turned into a harem member.

Most authors don't know how to write women unless they're the same gender. And while I have no problems with male characters, it's sad that if you see a movie, anime, manga, or novel, the results are either of the three mentioned above☝️.

But TCF managed to surprise me yet again.

Like I said in my previous post,

I did not have high expectations for this novel when I first started reading it. I just wanted to read something because I was bored.

So imagine my surprise when a lot of female characters started appearing everywhere in this novel. While some have minor roles like Amiru, Violan, and Lily, most of them are relevant to the plot. Something that is lacking in most novels. They're not one-dimensional characters but are instead given depth by the author.

Violan and Lily

Violan and Lily, who barely show up in the story because we're focused on Cale's point of view, have their own backstories and goals. Their roles are simple but it's enough that you'll be able to remember their names unlike those characters that are easily forgettable.

You'll be able to remember that Violan loves art and wants to help her husband and family as a wife, mother, and countess. She's very intelligent and even appears to be in equal footing with her husband. She's just as important as Deruth in their territory. If you remember how she appeared when Clopeh attacked them, you can see that despite her worry and anger for Cale's poor state, she appeared calm and was willing to stand by his side despite the danger she faces.

Lily on the other hand wants to be a swordsman to help her brothers protect their territory. I find her small interactions with Cale so adorable because of how much Cale respects her and her dream. She is brave and hard-working, unwilling to stay behind while her brothers do everything. She even grew stronger later in the novel. The fact that she was raised to be confident about her skills and herself is a good sign that Deruth and Violan did not care about gender roles and I just find this awesome.

Witira

Another example is the manhwa.

Let me first mention that I don't read the manhwa. I like it but I prefer the novel. I feel like their thoughts and opinions aren't always shown properly compared to when you read the novel.

But when I first saw Witira illustrated in the manhwa, my first thought was "she looks strong". The fact that I noticed how strong she is just by how she exudes confidence and power amazed me. Her personality is already obvious just by how she talks and moves.

In the novel, Cale likens himself to a shrimp while standing next to them, Raon, and Toonka. He knows that he's the weakest in the group and was quick to hide when Toonka jumped into a fight with Witira. He also thought that Toonka is stupid for trying to fight with Witira.

But what I appreciate about Witira is her care for her brother. She was so ready to interrogate Cale about Paseton and her brother had to calm her to calm down.

Before I wax poetry about how cool Witira is, here is the summary of the women that made an impact in the story.

There's Rosalyn who left her position as a princess to be a powerful mage. There's Mary, an innocent necromancer with a tragic background and Tasha who is a dark elf that wants to support her nephew despite the disgust and fear aimed at their race.

The others, while not often seen, are just as important because of their connection to other characters. Cage wants to be excommunicated and protect Taylor (something she failed to do in the original story) and is connected to the God of Death. Litana is a queen who wants to protect her Jungle from Adin and Arm. And Jopis wants her family and kingdom back from Elisneh.

There's also Cotton but to be honest, she's the one of the few female characters that I barely know about aside from her actions in Endable and connection to the God of War. I'm wondering if she'll show up more in the second volume.

Mary

She's a quiet character but she's my favorite among all the characters. When she first appeared in the novel, she didn't have much presence. It was only when she was brought above the City of Death/Life that she became more than a pitiful necromancer who was hated and feared just because she wanted to survive, like her parents wanted her to do before they died.

She may look naive at first because she spent most of her life in the underground city, but she later proves how powerful and kind she is.

Instead of hating the world that hated her, she moved past that and just wanted to protect the people she sees as her family and friends. Her backstory is sad but it didn't stop her from seeking happiness even if she became a necromancer.

She's one of the strongest characters in my eyes and I'm happy to see her slowly gain confidence in herself.

Hannah and Elisneh

But out of all the women, Hannah and Elisneh are the ones who surprised me the most.

Hannah was originally an antagonist. She fought against Cale and his group before she was betrayed by Arm. And she was about to die if Cale, Litana, Cage, and Mary did not save her. Instead of completely changing her character, she still remains bloodthirsty but has a softer side because of her brother and Cale.

She develops in a way that I did not expect. I actually thought she would be another Redika because of her obsession with blood and would later die as an extra character but she proved me wrong. She instead fights Arm with her brother and the group. I believe she's as strong as Rosalyn but I don't remember (I have to re-read the novel).

She doesn't care about the scars left on her by the dead mana and keeps it as a reminder of the betrayal she and her twin faced, proving she doesn't care how people who fear dead mana look at her.

Elisneh on the other hand, remains an antagonist against Jopis. She was originally supposed to "save" the Jungle but judging on how her kingdom turned out (like a storage for dead mana and stuck in an illusion), I can make a guess that she would've done the same with the Jungle had Cale not helped Litana before.

She's an antagonist that left a deep impression on me because of how static she is as a character. She remains focused on her greed and thirst for power and it's nice to see that not all antagonists in the story are turned into allies or kind people. She's strong enough that it took a whole group to defeat her.

On

And last but not the least is On.

She is not as vocal as Hong and Raon but she is the most mature out of all the kids. She is very sharp and knows what Cale thinks of himself and the people around him. She didn't initially trust Cale and I like that. She notices how stupid Cale can be at times and seems exasperated by him. She can still be childish just like her siblings from time to time but her determination to become stronger against the Fog Cat Tribe and Arm shows how much she and Hong had faced before arriving in the Henituse territory.

I understand some readers don't like the involvement of children in TCF because it's bad for the kids to be in war against a strong organization. BUT readers forget that this is a different world with different ways of thinking. These kids are from the Fog Cat Tribe, beastmen who can fight and are prepared for it. They have abilities that normal humans don't and they need to train those abilities if they want to survive in a world full of strong people and wars.

Her being involved in battles makes her feel proud of how strong she became, something she didn't feel when she was in her tribe. Because she's a mutant, her tribe made her feel bad about herself and was ready to kill her and Hong. She needs encouragement and praises that they're not useless or weak. She doesn't need to be coddled and she knows this.

She's smart enough to know that she and her siblings will only be safe with Cale and his group. Even in the war, their only involvement was spreading a poisonous fog so they could hide their presence from the enemy and Cale could hide his ancient powers from the greedy nobles. Aside from that, they weren't fighting in the war. They entered, used their abilities, and left.

Their tribe is good at being stealthy and it's why Ron wants to train these kids. They're good as potential assassins if they want to become one.

I might make a different post about the kids but this is all I have to say about On for now.

Respect

Another reason why I love this novel is because Cale treats these people with respect, regardless of their race, history, and gender.

He doesn't stop them from becoming stronger and instead encourages them to be what they want to be. He respects their failures and strengths. He doesn't coddle them nor does he find them weaker because they're women.

That's why I respect the author. Instead of writing them as side characters existing to make men stronger, the author made me feel amazed at all these strong women, regardless if they're normal or a fighter.

___

I can write more about these characters like Rosalyn and Tasha but I'll just end it here because I might just summarize the whole novel at this point 😅

[monstermoviedean]

thinking about cas devoting his life to jack and it's hard to verbalize how i feel about it. i don't want to criticize any of cas' feelings or choices. i don't believe there's anything inherently bad about cas being jack's dad. i like cas and jack separately and as a family unit. i think my issue is again the framing of it all. that it becomes the most important thing about cas, this role he plays. it is framed as his true purpose, his calling, what's been missing from his life all along. but if i may paraphrase mary, it's important to her that she not be "just a mom." and i feel like the show sometimes makes cas "just a dad."

part of my issue is that i think it wasn't entirely his choice to attach himself to jack. jack chose cas to be his father. and jack did influence cas in a way that made cas want to take on the father role. regardless of the intent or extent of that influence, some influence did happen. so the idea that cas chose to be jack's dad totally of his own volition doesn't work for me.

even if it had been 100% his choice, it still would fall into a long-standing pattern. cas has always sought a purpose to make him feel like his existence has value, and while his purpose as jack's protector is different than what he's tried in the past, it's still tying his worth to what he can do for others. it's still suggesting cas can only be valid through serving another's cause.

like, i can say this: "cas has faith in [cause/plan] and believes [cause/plan] will bring about [good outcome]. he dedicates himself wholly to [cause/plan] and its success and draws self-worth from his involvement." i can make the cause/plan heaven (much of s4), humanity (s5), defeating raphael (s6), regaining heaven (s9), saying yes to lucifer to defeat amara (s11), and jack (s12-15). this is a pattern that never gets disrupted. there are times when cas gives up on a cause (rebelling at the end of s4, for example), but then he finds a new cause he may be able to use to prove his worth and attaches himself to that instead. so cas taking on jack as his cause - even from the perspective that he's behaving as a father, not a warrior - doesn't feel like a change in cas' pattern to me. he's still trying to find value in himself through what he can do for others, it's just different people and plans. so yes cas finds meaning and value and purpose in being jack's dad, but it's not just being jack's dad - it's protecting jack and helping jack cultivate his powers so jack can bring about the paradise he promised.

i also think if this happened to a female character we would be having a very different conversation about parentification and the value of a person regardless of their parent status. i don't think spn is trying to say "your existence becomes valid when you devote yourself to child-rearing." but you can read "having a child can give your life the purpose, value, and meaning it was lacking" pretty easily. and that makes me sad. i want cas to be able to see value in himself for himself, not what he can do for others. i want him to be able to define himself, not define himself in relation to others. i want that for all the characters, frankly. i want mary to be mary, not just john's wife. dean to be dean, not just sam's brother. cas to be cas, not just jack's dad.

[nortism]

Nor's Ultimate BBC Ghosts Fic Recommendations

I decided to put my obsessive AO3 bookmarking to good use and recommend you all some of my favourite ghosts fics (not all, there will likely be a part two). I tried my best to include a variety of fics centring different characters and ships as well as lesser known fics. Please feel free to reblog this post and add your own recs (self promo very much allowed). I've tried to add tumblrs were applicable but if you wrote one of these fics or know who did, please let me know and I'll edit the post. Happy reading!

It by Scriblit

Rating: M

Ships: Mary/Robin, Julian/Robin

Summary:

You lose three mates, ten babies, both parents, all your siblings and then every friend for scores of millennia and still entertain the concept of being 'sweet' on a dead woman still consumed by her own pain. Doing It never had much meaning to Robin, even when he was alive. Now that he's dead, it's really just something to while away all the years. At some point, he's asked most of the ghosts if they want to do it. Some said no, some said yes. His only rule is, they have to genuinely want to do it, too. And, they mustn't be too sad. One of the ghosts was too sad, for so long, so he waited. And waited.

Notes: The first two chapters of this fic are an amusing exploration of caveman sex and the boredom that comes with eternal purgatory but the last chapter is where it gets really, really good. Genuinely one of the most poignant and devastating explorations of grief I've ever read, I cannot recommend it enough.

The Curse by Scriblit

Rating: T

Ships: Robin/OFC, Humphrey/Sophie

Summary:

Over the years, the centuries, the millennia, the residents of, and visitors to Button House and the land it's built on have experienced strange things, and heard strange tales. Multiple mysterious, macabre deaths. Unruly electrics. Blurry shapes in photos. St Elmo's Fire. Burning smells, a mysterious, singing voice in the cellar. Rumours of witchcraft, an ancient amulet and visions of Satan himself. Is the land truly cursed? Or is this just a place of 250,000 years worth of human sadness?

Notes: I only wanted to include one work from each author but I couldn't take this off my list. The only way I can describe this fic is clever. It's one of those things you just have to experience for yourself. Criminally underrated. Just read all of Scriblit's work, I'm their biggest fan.

Family, Family, Family by MadameReveuse

Rating: T

Ships: Primarily gen with side Julian/Robin

Summary:

Green Party Fundraiser Time! Rachel Fawcett comes to Button House, despite struggling with her feelings regarding a certain extremely unfortunate death there. Ghosts and the living alike are thrown into turmoil, especially when it begins to look like someone at the event may be attempting to harm the up-and-coming young politician. Can Julian stand idly by? Well, he's a ghost, so yeah, he has to.

Notes: This fic has it all; father/daughter bonding, a murder mystery and plenty of tory bashing. My entire perception of who Rachel Fawcett is comes from this fic, I was almost glad we never met her in canon as the author does such a fantastic job characterising her.

Ten friends total by notupforpolo (@notupforpolo)

Rating: G

Ships: Mary/Annie

Summary:

After the initial shock of dying wore off, Kitty was so excited to have Mary and Annie as friends. Kitty would notice how they spoke and gossiped just like Eleanor and her friends would do. They were potential friends until they just became friends. Then, when Annie was sucked off, Kitty was there to comfort Mary. Until Mary followed.

Notes: There is a severe lack of both Kitty-centric and Mary/Annie fic in this fandom and this fic covers both bases. Just a really excellent Kitty character study and a great exploration of grief

House Share by Sheepyblue (@ginevralinton)

Rating: G

Ships: Alison/Mike

Summary:

In which Mike makes a New Year's Resolution, with varying degrees of success (Or, a story of Mike spending time with the ghosts)

Notes: I've read a few variants of Mike spending time with the ghosts but I really like this one. My favourite chapter was definitely the Humphrey one, I won't spoil it but it's very funny. This author has far too many Ghosts fics for me to include in this post so I'd recommend you look through their other works

...And A Rainbow! by Spineless_Lobster (@spineless-lobster )

Rating: G

Ships: None

Summary:

Alison buys the Captain some pride merchandise, Kitty gets very excited that an entire room in the house is covered in rainbows. The two ghosts decide to have a sleepover to celebrate the (gay) occasion.

Notes: For all my Cap & Kitty lovers, this is pure fluff. Made me giggle.

Nothing Like a Round on 'The Krypton Factor' by neverfaraway

Rating: T

Ships: The Captain/Pat

Summary:

Wedding season approaches at Button House and, for once, everything is going off without a hitch. Of course, there’s the slight issue of Pat’s recent epiphany about his sexuality, Kitty’s determination to get her hands on as much badly-written erotica as possible, and the peasants becoming decidedly revolting. Still, if only the ghosts can refrain from murdering any of the builders, Alison is fairly sure they can pull this off. Or, Pat and the Captain negotiate coming out, even if it's only to each other.

Notes: Even if you, like myself, aren't a Patcap shipper, this fic is worth the read solely for the the subplot about the Plague Ghosts staging a leftist uprising. The perfect blend of comedy and heartfelt moments, this fic feels like it could have been an actual episode of Ghosts.

Don't Let The Good Life Pass You By by Impossibly_Izzy (@impossiblyizzy)

Rating: M

Ships: The Captain/Pat, Alison/Mike, minor Robin/Julian

Summary:

When the ghosts are mysteriously resurrected, life at Button House only gets more chaotic. Asking, how do you live in a world that wasn't built for you? How do you find meaning in a cold uncaring universe? And what does the Captain eat for breakfast?

Notes: Crack treated seriously is one of my fav AO3 genres and this fic is the cream of the crop. Despite being a Patcap fic, all the characters reactions to living in the modern world were explored in a detailed and hysterical way. I think about the scene where the whole gang goes to the pub constantly.

Queer Eye (The Captain Edition) by swimmingfox

Rating: Not Rated but I'd give it T

Ships: Past The Captain/Havers

Summary:

In a miraculous world where they have the ability to see ghosts, the Fab 5 descend upon Button House to transform the Captain (and, well, everyone).

Notes: Exactly what it says on the tin. Just pure hijinks, I can't fault it. Don't let the script format put you off, the author has done an excellent job of characterising everyone's voice

Fabrications by SwaggerStick

Rating: T

Ships: The Captain/Julian

Summary:

"It's true," said Julian. "You lot couldn't lie to save your lives." The Captain took personal offence at that statement. So, apparently, did Pat. "Oh give over," he said. "Like you can do better." ---------- The ghosts decide to figure out which one of them is the best liar. Competitively.

Notes: Another fic that really feels like it could be an actual episode. Very funny and also provides an explanation to the ghosts' pee turning to dust thing that has been bothering me since last Christmas so honestly you should just read it for that. Ship content is minor if Julicap isn't your thing (it's not really mine either)

Good Boy by Ailendolin (@ailendolin)

Rating: T

Ships: Mike/Alison

Summary:

"I’ve been thinking – Robin saved my life, didn’t he? Last week when I was out in the storm.” “Because of the stupid bear,” Alison couldn’t help but remind him. “Yeah, whatever,” Mike said with a roll of his eyes. “So when he redirected the lightning I saw him for a brief moment and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that.” Alison felt her eyes soften. “Oh Mike, why didn’t you say anything?” “No, it’s not like that,” Mike waved her worry away. “I know we’ve thanked him for what he did but with the gatehouse burning down and the whole insurance mess it feels like we haven’t really appreciated it enough, you know?” Mike and Alison plan a surprise for Robin.

Notes: Very sweet addition to the season 4 finale. Would have loved to see something like this in season 5 but this is almost as good.

fieri sentio et excrucior by oui_oui_mon_ami (@sunshine-soprano)

Rating: T

Ships: The Captain/OMC

Summary:

It all begins when the Captain meets the Roman centurion ghost next door.

Notes: An absolute fandom classic, I couldn't not include it. Not normally a huge fan of ocs but this one is vey well done. You can tell the author is very passionate about Latin and roman history which I always enjoy seeing (the passion not necessarily roman history).

The Moneypot by someplsloverobbierotten (@caps-clever-girl)

Rating: T

Ships: Julian/Robin

Summary:

Julian bet Robin a tenner over Heather getting sucked off. He of course tries squirrel his way out, but Robin’s not letting him off that easily. OR: Robin and Julian like their bets, but what's a ghost to spend imaginary money on?

Notes: Another fic that is basically canon to me. The author absolutely nailed Julian's voice. Overall just a fun read with some genuinely sweet moments.

Thanks, Skipper by NaughtyBees

Rating: G

Ships: None

Summary: Button House gets a visitor, someone specifically looking for Pat.

Notes: No 1 trans ally Pat Butcher, what more could you ask for? The definition of short and sweet

smoke gets in your eyes by sidelined

Rating: T

Ships: Alison/Mike, The Captain/Havers, minor Julian/Robin

Summary:

Alison and Mike move into Button House and, completely unintentionally, teach the ghosts valuable lessons about love. (In which Alison worries about a first date, Robin and Julian discuss marriage, Thomas accidentally humbles himself, Kitty discovers that romance can live everywhere, and the Captain ponders his loneliness

Notes: A really sweet set of vignettes about the ghosts and love. The Mike and Alison first date scene is canon to me, the author nailed Mike.

[danieldrivesfast]

Thoughts on Lestappen and Lestappies? And the narratives they spin and their media literacy, or lack thereof?

At its core, I have no problem with anyone's ship. I am very pro-fanfic. Hell, I've been participating in a fanfic/RP situation for twenty years now. (I am old.) My love of the creativity and expression that goes into fanfic and fandom is very deep.

My problem is when people can't or won't separate their characters from the actual, real-life human beings they're based on. I feel like the very recent normalization of using ship names and "fandom speak" in actual sanctioned/corporate media has caused a lack of separation. There has always been a barrier between the personas in fanfiction/fandom and the real humans, but that's gone now.

When it comes to "Lestappen" fans, I think there's a perfect storm.

Charles is a pretty boy with sad eyes and a traumatic backstory, plays piano and writes music, from a whimsical little country full of the rich and powerful, fulfilling a destiny that belonged to someone he lost.

Max is the superstar son of an abusive man, de facto stepfather to a little girl, hyper-focused on his special interest, the biggest threat to his competitors while also being a compassionate protector.

These two guys have competed since they were children, have a history of a fierce rivalry, came through the ranks at nearly the same time, and are now going head to head to be champion of the world.

That sounds like the most cliche setup of Mary Sues as rivals-to-lovers with a touch of hurt/comfort I've ever seen.

So when you take down the barrier between actual humans and the personas that are accepted as "canon" in fandom, you get whatever is going on with the "Lestappen" fans. Max and Charles aren't even that close in real life, but the fantasy is too good to pass up.

The group of Charles fans that call themselves the "Lecfosi" are overall very toxic (not all 16 fans, but holy shit), and when you mix that with the shippers who can't separate reality from fantasy, it's a noxious situation. What they've been saying to and about Lando and his fans after yesterday is borderline delusional. It's unnecessary. I can promise you that neither Max nor Charles would appreciate their behavior.

I think the ship on its own is very compelling. It's the inability to separate that fantasy world from reality, then using the fantasy to be truly hateful to not only fans, but directly to drivers and their friends/family that's gross and wrong.

It's obviously not all shippers. It's also not only "Lestappies" who are toxic. They just seem to be the loudest about it. (And this was asked about them specifically.)

As far as media literacy - that's an entirely different essay that applies to a much larger group than any one group of shippers. I'm sure I'll get annoyed enough to unleash that draft eventually. 😅

[mangotangerine]

random rambles about fanfic

the winter sadness has captured my soul and what normally takes me 1 week is now taking 2 (ch36 of it's not murder, it's research and waste disposal will be up tomorrow) and it makes me sad and weirdly worried that people will lose interest, so i'm going to ramble at the like 7 people who follow me for my radiostatic human AU about the fic because i can't take ADHD meds at 9:52 PM and thus am incapable of wrangling together this 8k behemoth of a chapter that's now going to be 2 chapters because I've still got like 2k words to go and then rounds of editing

chapter 7 of when boys grow up is also mostly done so that should be this week as well.

anyway, rambling below the cut for people interested in the writing process & the differences between the two fics (beyond the obvious)

I have never, before this year, written anything longer than like... 22k. now i've got a 180k (completed!!!! what the fuck!!!!) hellaverse crossover fic that's arguably the most hilarious thing I've ever written (Accidental Bodyguard for Hire for anyone interested. very different vibe but good times and hijinks, the series it belongs to is 260k and has canonverse radiostatic) and the first thing I have seriously written in literal years. I mean I've sort of been working on two original things over the past 4-ish years but writing in isolation, without the feedback you get from fanfiction, is hard.

I got laid off (along with the rest of the company) from a damn good job March 1st and it took until late June to get another one and filled my idle time getting my writing skill back to where it was when I stopped approximately 5 years ago. I'm mostly there now, I think, nowhere to go but up from here. The rewritten maman marie scene from chapter 18 (which I rewrote as an exercise prior to writing the spirit marriage scene in chapter 27) is I think when I got back to where I used to be before.

Anyway, it's not murder (inm) started as a thinly veiled excuse to write radiostatic smut where Vox didn't have a TV for a head (hence chapter 1's "sometimes you just want them to kiss without alastor licking a television" author's note) and turned into... what it is now. This 200k+ exploration of the human condition behemoth with a vague plotline (and more smut scenes than chapters), and a challenge to see how dirtynastywrong I could get my writing.

I have a vague idea of how it's going to end (and have the catalyst scene mostly written) so everything in between is me being like "haha what if this happened" and hoping the whole thing doesn't become boring and repetitive.

I kind of waffle between, "this is fanfiction you don't need to write this like it's a novel" and, "but the plot is all over the place and there is no clear delineation between each arc so it must be getting boring and too long" and have mostly settled on "fuck it, it's fanfiction" for inm.

I'm always thrilled every time someone comments or says they've reread it even once because like WOW somebody LIKES MY ART, especially so with the OCs I've written in (so many people always say they hate OCs, but I like to think I've done a good job with mine).

Especially because the fic has become something beyond the initial plan. I didn't go into this thinking I'd explore trauma, the real impact of Hurricane Katrina, racial themes, critically endangered languages, or learn half as much as I have about the human body, let alone do it as elegantly as I seem to have managed.

You should see the amount of fucking scientific journals I've downloaded and read, surgery videos I've watched and anatomical models I've studied to make sure I get this shit right (apart from like the obvious "suspend your disbelief about the lack of safe sex and atrocious lab etiquette and the fact that these two somehow have yet to be caught and the CIA doesn't work like that really but I do know the pay scale is correct because I researched that") and I'm just... really glad people are enjoying it.

Some shit is off the cuff but so much of it is intentional choices made that I don't think are obvious at the surface level—vox being big and buff and also a subby little bitch boy who calls alastor baby as a subversion to the "smaller character is the bottom" trope; *so* much of alastor's history and character a deliberate subversion to racial tropes; taking care to flesh the side characters out as believable people with inner worlds (i even made some spotify playlists for vox, alastor, catarina and velvette as a fun little exercise); figuring out what traumatic, lifechanging incidents could have happened to turn these two characters into violent serial killers; figuring out how to navigate sexual assault and child abuse without it coming across as overdramatic and titillating for entertainment effects; showcasing two objectively monstrous people as sympathetic humans with brief "oh yeah I forgot they're literally fucking evil" moments because i feel like it's important to remember even the monsters amongst us are just as human as we are, anyone is capable of great evil—there's a lot more, but I wouldn't have been able to work through any of it without all the comments and encouragement.

most of INM is still like off the cuff random "haha what if" scenarios, vs. when boys grow up (wbgu) which is meticulously plotted out with a beginning and a middle and an end, figuring out how to weave in bits and pieces of wbgu to inm and inm to wbgu along the way, and like if anyone wants any resources on louisiana creole (a critically endangered language) I have so much. I spent hours and hours but managed to dig up a copy of an old out-of-print dictionary, even.

there's a lot more "exploring the human condition and specifically xyz" i have planned for wbgu but those are spoilers so you cannot know about them!

I don't know why I wrote all this out tbh, some of it is like a "thank you for the support, this is what i've been able to accomplish because of you, you have no idea how much it means to me" and some of it is like a "see! it's not just brainfucking torture porn! i put thought into it!" kinda thing and some of it is a "please don't get bored of me i put so much work and thought into this shit"

and some of it is a "hey ask questions there is so much that will not make it into the fic that has a big behind-the-scenes impact"

so, uh, thank you, i guess. especially if you've read this far. look for 2 new chapters before american thanksgiving, one for inm & one for wbgu, and feel free to ask whatever questions you might have because there's a 99% chance i've thought about it and made a deliberate choice around it.