#also could not avoid going to mars for a shot

[edains]

Ashley Williams Armory

Ashley Williams's Armory

Ashley Consistency Project

[loweya-blog]

MC Gets Turned into a Fairy

(Fluff, gender neutral mc)

(Part 2)

You and the brothers were working on a potion together at RAD. Lucifer had gone off to see Diavolo, who was asking for his presence to discuss something. In those few minutes he was gone, Mammon accidentally added some pixie periwinkles to the mixture instead of hellish hellabore. You were excited to try this recipe since this would result in extra luck and fortune for the rest of the day.

The brothers let you have the resulting potion since they wanted you to have some luck. As the potion slid down your throat, you felt an odd sparkling sensation, like you had some sort of odd soda. Suddenly, there was a puff of smoke.

You heard them call out your name as you felt yourself shrinking to a tiny little size. By the time the smoke cleared, you found yourself sitting in a massive pile of clothes, looking up at the brothers with confusion. On your back was a pair of delicate insect-like wings.

You had been turned into a fairy!

Belphie

His eyes shot open when he heard the shouts of alarm from his brothers. After the smoke cleared, he just saw a tiny version of you with little wings, covering yourself with the pile of oversized clothes.... it was cute.

For the rest of the time that you're a fairy, he tries to remain awake. The last thing he wanted was to accidentally crush you in his sleep. They were informed you would turn back to normal in three days. It was hard for Belphie to get any private time with you since all his brothers were clamoring for your attention even more than usual.

But when you were busy dealing with the brothers, he would set aside a small bed for you. He made it from magic and tried to make it as cozy as his. Belphie even copied his pillow and made it tiny so you both would match.

And when it looks like you're getting too tired for his brother's shenanigans, he picks you up by your wings (much to your annoyance) and carries you to bed. He also was careful to set your bed right on the nightstand next to his and beel's, despite his other brothers' protests.

Beel

For a moment Beel was terrified. He didn't want that potion to hurt you, he just wanted to give you good luck. The demon was stunned to see a tiny version of you all curled up in those clothes. You were so small. So very tiny. A part of him couldn't help but feel endeared to you even more than before.

During this time he tries to avoid touching you since he worried his strength would crush you. It would take some time but you'd eventually be able to convince him to let you fly into the palm of his hands. The demon couldn't help but admire you.

You were even able to help him! Sometimes you'd catch a grape or some other small fruit from falling off the counter. And your new fairy magic was able to get things to grow faster, including food!

Beel would also let you sit on his shoulder. It was nice hearing you whisper into his ear or chat with him in a way that nobody else could hear. He also helped you learn how to fly, since his wings were very similar to yours.

Asmodeus

The gorgeous demon couldn't help but worry that potion may have done something to mar your perfectness. To his surprise, it just made you cuter instead! You were so tiny and had such pretty wings! Asmo was the first to scoop you up and squeal about your transformation.

Outfits. If you were going to be stuck as a fairy for a few days then he'd simply have to make sure you were stunning! Asmo worked with Levi for hours on designing and creating new clothes for you. And accessories and shoes.

For hours you ended up as his newest and most favorite tiny dress up doll. Even if it would be only for a few days, you had enough outfits to fill up a tiny fairy wardrobe.

Painting your nails was harder so he had to give up on that but he did give you tutorials so at least you'd be able to do it. Oh and your wings! He took so many photos for devilgram of your wings. And he insisted that you'd sit on cute mushrooms or lay on a leaf so he could post it. Though there were a few that were too cute to share.

Satan

He was going to wring the neck of whoever messed up on the potion. The idea of you getting hurt through a simple mistake was inexcusable. He quickly checked the recipe to try to predict what it had done. What he could never predict, was you turning into a fairy.

It was.... cute. Too cute. The whole time Satan couldn't even look at you without blushing. Though he had a preference for cats, seeing how small and delicate you were reminded him of a kitten. He was obliged to check how long the spell would last but secretly hoped it wouldn't wear off too quickly.

He'd suddenly bring you minature books so you could read and even made a tiny chair for you so you could read on the end table next to him. But it was so cute that he wasn't actually able to read, instead stealing glances at you every time he could.

Your wings were even more elegant, which also captured his fascination. He had read about fairies but they were only in storybooks. Actually seeing one was incredible. There was a bit of magic you brought to life that he normally could only find in books... even for a demon.

Leviathan

He panicked when that smoke appeared. THAT wasn't normal! Even a gross otaku like him could understand it. Levi was all but ready to pronounce you mortally wounded or dead when the smoke cleared and instead he saw you in your fairy form. It was just like I Got Turned Into A Fairy By My Careless Magic Friend/Potential Love Interest!

Like Asmo, he also asked to take photos. But instead he'd make tiny cosplays along with actual clothes. Asmo didn't know this, but most of the clothes he made for you were actually cosplays from his favorite fairy-related shows.

Levi even got to take a photo of you flying next to Henry, though he was careful to make sure the goldfish wouldn't try to jump up and eat you. He would also hold mangas up so you could fly around and read them without getting squished by pages flopping over.

Playing games was much harder since you weren't even the same size as the controller. So Levi would have you fly up and sit on his head and tell him what to do in the game instead. You both ended up playing whimsical fantasy themed games as celebration for your temporary fairy form.

Mammon

Oh shit. Dread filled his stomach as he realized his error. He dashed over to the pile of ingredients and yep, there was the hellish hellabore he was SUPPOSED to add. He frantically ran back over to you... only to find a tiny version of you with wings hiding in your clothes.

This man gets even more possessive if that was somehow possible. Rather than letting you fly everywhere, sometimes he'll just carefully catch you in his hands and carry you off somewhere. Mammon couldn't help it! You're the one to blame for being so cute and small and precious!

He'd also bribe you into coming with him to cheat on casino card games. You were small enough to fly around without being noticed so it wasn't hard to be able to have you spy on other demon's cards. Once Lucifer found out about Mammon's schemes, he was quick to put a stop to it.

Mammon covered the costs of Levi and Asmo making your new clothes and any tiny furniture in exchange for photos. It was money he'd saved up to buy himself something nice but now all he wanted to do was spoil his favorite little fairy.

Lucifer

Ten minutes. He'd been gone for TEN MINUTES! Not only had his brothers been foolish enough to have you drink a potion that hadn't been tested yet, but they also somehow botched the recipe. His temper did calm down, especially when you placed your tiny hands on his cheeks.

Lucifer was more strict on his brothers when it came to your safety. You were never to be left alone unless you were using the bathroom, and even then somebody had to be nearby in case you fell into the toilet. Food was to be made your size and your were pretty much sentenced to house arrest until this was all over.

However, he had to admit he liked seeing you with those pretty wings and adorable clothes. He ended up "confiscating" some of the photos Asmo and Levi took, but really he was just secretly keeping it for himself.

At one point you'd been tired out by all the others so he ended up making a small cup, tiny sized for you, and filled it with a beverage you typically liked. After all you'd done so much for him and his family. A little energy boosting drink was nothing in comparison.... and he wanted to see you holding a tiny cup and drinking from it. You were too cute.

(Lemme know if you guys want a part 2 with the other dateables and Luke)

[northlt03]

Rosekiller one shot

Tw: death

Barty goes to war, he doesn't have the money nor the influence like Evan does to avoid it forever. He has to.

He goes kicking and screaming and fighting the whole way but he has to go.

When they were younger, not yet directly touched by the conflicts between countries , Barty told Evan about his fear, his only fear . Death.

He never understood his father's points about fighting for honror or dying for their country. He was a child and like a child, he was scared of dying. What would come after it? How would hsi loved ones react? What would he leave behind? Why would any higher power take young lives anyway?

Questions plagued him and Evan didnt have the answers to any.

And now hes in an active war zone, death at his doorstep.

Honestly, Barty doesn't give a shit about either country, doesnt give a shit about his fellow soldiers or his fathers orders to make him porud.

He'd much rather be next to Evan, with the boy's hand in his hair. Evan would drag his fingers across Barty's skin in a manner he deemed utterly sinful.

Even now if he closed his eyes he could pretend the taller boy was in front of him.

Evan was older, although just by a few months. He was all wide shoulders, lazy grins and shy smiles. And his hands, arguably Bartys favourite part of him. They could caress and hold, they could mend and take care but they could also wield an axe and a gun, they could make Bartys mind forget everything and anything, dragging low groans from his throat. They could make him whine and beg, they could steady him or bruise him.

Its these things he thought of late at night under the cover of darkness. Evan.

Just the man, just the name.

Somehow it was always Evan he thought of when things got difficult.

Barty writes to him, for his own sanity. The longer he stays there, the more he loses it.

War is no place for him. Its too bloody, too noisy, too scary. He wants Evan.

He wants to be held, strong arms pulling him close. He wants to be safe. He wants to laugh at Evan's stupid jokes. He wants to kiss Evan, to touch him, to hear his voice.

His body and heart aches with longing.

He doesn't care for the other soldiers who laugh too loud and never sound like Evan. They're terrified of him, of the way he takes life after life in the warzone.

But violence was never his first choice, it was love.

So he writes and he writes and he writes. He never had a liking for literature like his friend Regulus, but he manages fine.

"My only solace is that you're untocuhed by Bellona, by the bloodshed of Mars" He writes. "Although, darling, you'd look divine covered in crimson"

Fuck he loves Evan. And he misses him so much his bones echo with desire.

"I think of you everyday, sunrise to sunset and take a break for dusk, only for you to be in my dreams"

He addresses them to E, his E. Thats all his fellow soldiers know Evan as. "That crazy one's darling E"

Barty hears them wondering about E's name, about how someone could have won Barty's cold heart.

Eloise, perhaps? or Elizabeth? Eleanor, Edith, Ella, Emilia, Emma, Eliza, Elliana, Ellie, Emily, Evelyn, Eden, Esther.

Evan.

Evan Rosier.

They wouldn't suggest a man's name.

Its a cruel, cruel world they live in, and Barty has never liked it. But Evan always managed to drag out the optimist in him, the mischief and sarcasm he thought he left in his childhood.

"Most of all, its boring, my darling" he writes, "So fucking boring. We barely fight and when we do, we win. Mostly. You'd call me a narcissist and egotistical, but I know my worth. The rest of these soldiers don't know their left from their right"

He tells Evan everything, even if he doesn't always get letters back. Mail gets lost on the way a lot. Sometimes Barty gets upset when Evan doesnt respond only to descover the ship went down. Sometimes Evan writes strong words about scaring him because Barty never replied to his letter, and Barty sends back a response about how he never got it in the first place.

"Really hope the ship doesnt go down again. Such a nuisance, catching you up on everything again" He scribbles down, imagining the expression on his lover's face when he reads it.

War is brutal and unyielding. It stretches on forever. Barty doesn't see himself getting out of it, not now, not ever. But he doesn't tell Evan that.

"We'll go watch a movie when I'm back" he makes false promises, "and kiss in the rain, your lip between my teeth. Just the way you like it. I'll kiss you in front of my father, I dont care"

War is brutal. it takes and it takes and it takes. Are there really winners and losers when the only ones losing seem to be the soldiers that lose their lives?

"My dearest E, I miss you like the sea misses the earth. The water shaking with anticipation in clouds, desperate to return to the ground as rain"

Barty is going to die, he knows it.

There's only way out of this war and its by taking Thanatos' hand.

"Regulus sent me a summary of his reading again" Barty writes, "Some old man a hundred years ago wrote about a man and a woman in love and somehow Regulus made it my problem. Try to punch some sense into him. But don't tell him I might be hooked onto what happens next. Its a guilty pleasure"

Barty doesn't have many guilty pleasures.

You could argue Evan was one of them, but he's not. Barty has never once been guilty about loving Evan, never.

"Regulus wrote to me, telling me Melpomene is the muse of tragedy" Barty could have been jealous of his friends, the ones who didn't have to come to war, didn't have everything stripped from them. But he's glad he's the one suffering because that means Evan doesn't have to and Regulus can keep reading his little stories. He'd die in war a thousand times over if his friends stayed safe. "Melpomene must have gotten quite the story from us"

Evan fills him in on gossip, Dorcas in love with someone, Pandora and her new inventions, Barty wishes he could be there for it all.

Evan can't draw for shit, but his stick figures could rival Michaelangelo for all Barty cares.

Evan, Evan, Evan, Evan. Its all he thinks about, like a broken record spinning and repeating the name. Evan.

He's so much more than a lover. He's a part of Barty. He's seen the good bad and the ugly. He's stuck around for it all.

"Im angry most of the time" He scribbles one night, shaking from barely contained fury after a mission gone wrong. "Angry because my father is the biggest piece of shit to ever grace the earth. Angry because I want you I need you in my hand, in my arms, in my bed bext to me. I'm angry because the world was never kind to us. I'm angry because I wish I could kiss you now. I would. I'd kiss you in front of the world, grab you by the jaw and not let go. I want to taste you, I want you to linger on my tongue, to ruin my life. I'm angry because..." because I'm scared.

Barty never lets anyone see the letters Evan sends, scowling at anyone who ever tries to peek. He's got quite the reputation now. He'd cut off a finger or two before he let anyone have a taste of Evan's words. They're for him. Just for him.

"Come back" Evan writes, "Come back or I'll publish your writing for the world. Let everyone see how embarrassingly in love you are. Regulus alone would have a field day with the poem you once attempted"

Barty laughs because he can't help it. Its so on brand for Evan to threaten him with that.

"My writing is scacred, how dare you?" He writes back. "Maybe that would help the world understand us, though. Maybe one day there would be a world free of war and hate. And just us, together, kissing in front of my father as I flip him off"

"You'd look sharp in a suit on our wedding day" Evan writes back. "I'd love to see you in it. I'd love to take it off"

Fuck.

"Darling, I'd wear a wedding dress if you wanted. I'd do anything for you (and if it pissed my father off)" Barty scrawls with a rare smile on his face.

The last letter Evan Rosier ever got from Barty Crouch Jr was about wearing a dress to their hypothetical wedding.

Decades in the future, when they're all well and gone, buried so they're only dust and bones, their letters are found again.

Love letters from wars always fill people with a sad and romantic feeling. They always remind people that love is eternal, the only constant in the world of destruction and tragedy. No matter how it ended, at least the love was there.

Historians scratch their heads over who the "Darling E" was. Some say Eloise or Elizabeth? Eleanor, Edith, Ella, Emilia, Emma, Eliza, Elliana, Ellie, Emily, Evelyn, Eden, Esther.

Evan, says one.

Evan Rosier. Barty Crouch Jr. Decades after theyre gone, their love makes headlines. Flirty and sweet, cute and filthy, rebellious and devoted, they call the pair.

Barty Crouch Jr died at war, bleeding out in pain, supposedly with his eyes wide in fear and fingers digging into the earth, desperate to live.

Evan Rosier died not long after, peacefully in his bed. Heartbreak, the doctors said.

Their letters were found in a house that used to belong to their mutual friend, Regulus Black.

[bellaxgiornata]

Falling For the Devil [Part seventy-nine: "The Hell Day"]

Pairing: Matt Murdock x Fem!Reader

Summary: You stay home from work because you're having a terrible day on your period.

Or

Matt stops by for a surprise visit and offers you comfort in more ways than one.

[Series of one-shots about Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock.]

Warnings: 18+ for this series; contains humor, fluff, romance, angst, smut (like...a lot of it later in the series), language, some violence

Word Count: 2.9k

a/n: This is a little hurt/comfort fic while Reader is on her worst day of her period. And there's some Sweet Matty comforting Reader and some moving in discussions! Our next installment is titled "The Revisitation of Moving In" that I'll hopefully be sharing later this week! You can find the entire list of installments for this series on tumblr here.

Tag List: @stilldreaming666 @mattkinsella @ninacoette @murdocksclient @madscamp02 @1988-fiend @lina-mar @pinkratts @schneeflocky (I apologize if I missed someone or if any of these tags didn't work! Some of you might have search settings turned off on your account so I can't actually tag you!)

Curled up on your couch absently watching the food channel, your arms were wrapped around your abdomen as you groaned in misery. Your whole body ached, especially your lower back, and you'd been feeling nauseous since early this morning when you'd woken up. You'd had a headache for the past five hours that just wouldn't go away no matter how much water you drank or ibuprofen you took. 

You were on day two of your period–also known as Hell Day. Since it was Friday and you'd felt like death, having woken up long before your alarm had gone off and been unable to fall back asleep because your cramps were just that painful, you'd called off work. Last night had been one of those rare nights that Matt hadn't stopped by as Daredevil because he'd stayed home working on a case, so you'd thankfully not had to wake up to him witnessing how miserable you were. 

While you'd avoided Matt over that first period week you'd gotten months ago, right after the two of you had gotten together, you hadn't continued that trend for most of the periods that followed after. Though admittedly you had often managed to find a way to avoid him one way or another on Period Hell Day for months now, so he'd yet to encounter you on the absolute worst day of your period. Which you'd been grateful for, because generally you were more of an emotional mess than usual, and that's exactly how you'd felt today, as if you were one random, small thing away from crying. Again .

A knock at your apartment door drew your eye towards it, a deep frown settling onto your face. There could only be one person who would be here knocking on your door at almost seven on a Friday night. You closed your eyes, rolling over and burying your face in the pillow you'd been lying on. Another groan left you yet again. 

"I don’t feel good tonight, Matt," you grumbled into the pillow. “Leave me to my misery.”

"You and I both know that I'm not going to do that," Matt's distinctive voice came from the other side of the door. “Let me in, sweetheart.”

“I don’t want you to see me like this,” you protested, face still buried in the pillow.

“Then it’s a good thing I’m blind,” he quipped back, amusement clear in his tone.

“ Matt ,” you whined.

You heard the clear rumble of his chuckle outside of your door, the sound of it drawing your face from its hiding place. It had been yesterday afternoon since you last saw him for lunch and you certainly had missed him–despite how pathetic it was to admit because it had barely been over twenty-four hours.

"I brought mint ice cream?" Matt called hopefully through the door. “And it’s uh, probably going to melt on me if you leave me out here.”

“Why didn’t you lead with that?” you called back.

You pushed yourself upright on the couch with a grimace, your cramps somehow feeling worse now that you weren’t curled in the fetal position. 

“Because I sort of thought my girlfriend would be happy for some company and comfort tonight?” he responded. "Didn't expect that I'd need to bribe her to answer the door."

Eyes narrowing, you rose to your feet, shuffling your way to your apartment door. Your right hand was pressed to your bloated abdomen like it was going to keep your insides from somehow falling out of you while you walked. Quickly unlocking your door with your left hand, you swung it open to reveal Matt’s handsome and smiling face. He held up the container of mint ice cream he had in fact brought over in one of his hands. 

“What the hell does that mean?” you asked him suspiciously, eyes still narrowed as you ignored the ice cream. “Why would you think I want company and comfort tonight?”

Matt’s smile immediately fell, his dark brows drawing together, a crease forming between them. His head slowly shifted to the side as he pursed his lips. There was a long moment that he stood in your doorway looking confused as he remained silent.

“Because you’re…on your period?” he eventually answered carefully. “And I know you usually don’t feel well?”

“How do you know I’m on my period?” you questioned him.

Matt’s head tilted further to the side, his dark brows almost entirely disappearing behind the red lenses of his glasses now. “This…this feels like a trick question,” he said slowly. “I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to answer that.”

You shook your head quickly, hugging both arms over your stomach as if that would somehow block Matt’s heightened senses from picking up on anything from your body. “No, ew, definitely don’t answer that ,” you agreed. “I meant I haven’t seen you today, how would you know?”

“I saw you yesterday, sweetheart,” he pointed out. 

“But I hadn’t told you I was on it because I just had–” you stopped, eyes going wide when Matt’s expression turned sheepish. “Oh my God , you could still tell ?” When he opened his mouth you immediately shook your head again, throwing a hand up from your stomach to stop him. “No, please do not actually answer that.”

“It’s not a big deal, sweetheart,” he said gently.

“Says you !” you shot back.

“So you’re just going to leave me to let this mint ice cream melt all over my hands in your hall then?” he asked.

“Obviously not,” you said, stepping aside.

Matt took a slow, careful step into your apartment, almost as if he was wary that you really didn’t want him here. Your shoulders sagged at the sight, shutting the door after him.

“Sorry, I’m a hormonal mess,” you apologized. “I feel horrible and I wasn’t expecting you to stop by tonight and now I’m just overthinking your senses. Again .”

You accepted the ice cream from Matt, turning and bringing it to the kitchen to keep in your freezer for now. Behind you, you heard Matt slipping out of his shoes.

“You know you really don’t need to do that,” he told you. “Overthinking my senses about things.”

“Sort of hard not to do,” you mumbled. “Overthinking is sort of my thing.”

You made your way back towards the living room where Matt was pulling his dark glasses from his face. His eyes were tracking your movement as he leaned over to set the glasses onto your coffee table, the smile growing on his lips as you made your way towards him.

“If you’re ever actually going to move in with me,” he said, “you’re kind of going to have your period around me, sweetheart. And you know it doesn’t bother me. I’ve told you that a hundred times now.”

Sighing dramatically, you once again hugged your arms across your bloated stomach as you came to a stop in front of him. “Try getting my overthinking mind to believe you,” you replied.

He chuckled lightly, his hands reaching out and landing on your shoulders. He gave them an affectionate squeeze that drew a small smile onto your face.

“I have been trying that for awhile now,” he pointed out. “Clearly it’s not an easy feat to accomplish.”

“Yeah,” you agreed, “because all I can think about are the gross things you’re picking up on when I’m like this. And I’m…” you trailed off, lips clamping together before you could admit what was on your mind.

Matt’s face shifted to something serious instantly, clearly sensing your hesitation. His eyes were scanning around your face curiously. “You’re what?” he prompted.

Chewing your lip, you gazed down at your coffee table. Could you really verbalize something so gross and ridiculous to Matt? The last thing you felt like doing right now was discussing your period with the man you wanted to still find you attractive when you weren’t bleeding in a few more days.

“Hey,” he said, his tone softer as he gripped your shoulders a little tighter, “you can tell me anything. What’s bothering you?”

“It’s just…if I move in with you, you’re right,” you admitted quietly. “I’ll be having my period around you. Like all the time.”

“Yes,” Matt agreed. “I am aware that it's a monthly occurrence. And I don’t have a problem with that.”

“But like…” you continued, your eyes locked on your coffee table because you could not look at him, “that means I’ll, you know, be…disposing of period-related things. At your place. All the time."

Matt let out an amused snort that quickly drew your eyes to his face. He bit his bottom lip, shaking his head quickly.

“Sorry, sorry, I really don’t mean to laugh,” he said immediately. “I’m not–not trying to make light of your feelings, but sweetheart, it’s just blood. I bring enough blood home on a near nightly basis. I don’t care. It doesn't bother me. And for the record, it would be our place."

“But you have the nose of a bloodhound–”

“Better, actually,” he cut in.

“Matt!” you shrieked, to which he only chuckled again. “That’s not helping!”

"You're right, I'm sorry," he said, the grin still on his face. "Just trying to lighten the mood."

You shifted awkwardly on your feet before him, other anxious thoughts about living with Matt crossing your mind. As if sensing that, his hands slid down your shoulders, making their way down your arms until they wrapped around your own hands. 

"Hey, let's sit," he suggested gently. 

Matt led you back towards your couch, the pair of you settling down onto the cushions beside each other. He kept his hold on your hands, that serious expression back on his face as he gazed at you. 

"What's on your mind, sweetheart?" he asked. "Tell me."

"I just–just worry about all the things you're going to pick up on if I move in with you," you confessed. "Things I'm not aware of because of your heightened senses."

Matt murmured your name, the sound drawing your eyes up to his face. Nervously you chewed your lip, Matt's thumbs rubbing lightly over the backs of your hands. 

"You've spent so much time with me already, sweetheart," he pointed out. "Staying the night at my place or me staying here. And I'm still here not grossed out by you." One corner of his lips curled upwards as he added, "And I lived with Fog during college for years . Share an office with him almost every day of the week now. You're not going to gross me out or whatever you're afraid of."

"Well Foggy isn't hoping you're still attracted to him at the end of the day," you blurted. 

Matt's mouth twisted into a bigger grin in response. "Well that would mean I'd have to be attracted to Fog at the beginning of the day," he teased.

You sighed deeply, not wanting his jokes right now. Quickly picking up on that, Matt sent you an apologetic smile. 

"I'm serious, Matt," you admitted awkwardly. "If we live together, you'll be around me all the time. Every bad day I have and every morning of my gross morning breath. And every period where I'm super gross, like right now. And every time–"

"Hey," Matt cut you off firmly, squeezing your hands. "I want every moment with you, sweetheart. All of it. The good and the bad. I want you with me. And you are not super gross right now," he stated sharply. "You never are. Nothing is going to make me love you or want you any less."

You couldn't help the sting of tears that pricked at your eyes or the way your lips had begun to tremble as Matt's words hit you hard. His brows drew together on his forehead as he noticed your body’s reaction. 

"Sweetheart?" he asked, his eyes softening as they focused near your own. "Why're you crying?"

Tears had already quickly begun falling down your cheeks in hot, wet steaks. You sniffled loudly, fighting to keep your voice as even as you could when you spoke. 

"Because I'm hormonal as fuck, Matt," you sobbed. "And you're so fucking charming and sweet. And I love you." You slipped a hand out of his hold as you gestured behind you towards your kitchen. "And you brought me my favorite ice cream on my worst damn day of the month!"

His brows knitted further together, the crease between them deepening on his face. The corner of his mouth twitched downwards. "Those are all–all good things though," he pointed out carefully. 

"I know!" you agreed, your voice cracking. 

His head tilted to the side as he studied you for a moment. "So you're��happy?" he clarified.

"Yes!" you exclaimed. "I'm incredibly hormonal and you're being really great and it's making me cry! But I also cried watching House Hunters earlier, too." 

He laughed lightly, pulling you into his chest and wrapping his arms around you. One of his large hands began soothingly running up and down your back as you buried your face into his dress shirt. You quickly soaked the material with your tears as your arms wrapped around him in return, balling the material in your fists. That familiar scent of him surrounded you and you buried your nose further into his shirt. A moment later you felt him pressing a kiss into your hair.

"I love you, Matty," you said into his chest. 

"I love you, too, sweetheart,” he murmured. “How about I get changed and I come cuddle you on the couch?" he offered. "I can give you a back massage if you lay on me. I can hear how sore your back is."

"You've had a long week yourself," you replied, sniffling again. "Both in and out of the office. I'm not going to ask you to do that."

"Well you're not," he pointed out. "I'm offering. Here, let me up."

Reluctantly you released your hold of him, Matt rising up from the couch. He shot you a smile, murmuring he'd be right back back before you watched him disappear down your hall to your bedroom. 

With a sigh you settled back onto your couch, your eyes focusing back on the food channel. It was a few minutes before Matt returned no longer in his work attire. Instead he padded down your hallway barefoot in a pair of gray sweatpants with a tee-shirt in one hand. 

"Shirt or no shirt?" he asked, stopping before you on the other side of the coffee table. 

Your lips parted in surprise as your eyes raked over his bare torso, every defined inch of him on clear display in your living room. Matt grinned devilishly at you, tossing his shirt onto the coffee table before he made his way back to you. 

"That answered my question," he said, amused.

He sat down on the couch, drawing his feet up as he maneuvered behind you. And then he opened his arms to you, waving you over with a smile. 

"Come here, sweetie," he whispered. "Let me help you feel better."

You gradually climbed up on top of him, nestling your head just below his chin as your legs rested between his on your couch. While your right hand slid up to grasp his shoulder, your left hand landed along his chest beside your face, fingers absently running along his bare, warm skin that felt amazing against your bloated abdomen. Matt’s own hands settled onto your lower back, his palms beginning to press in the exact right spot against your aching muscles. It was only a matter of seconds before your eyes were closing and you were sighing in relief and contentment. 

“You’re really, really good at that,” you whispered, relaxing into him beneath you.

“Sort of easy when I can hear your body that well,” he replied gently.

“And that made it weird,” you pointed out.

Beneath you, Matt let out a rumbling laugh that had you bouncing along him with the movement, which in turn had you giggling. Burying your face into his chest as you laughed, you felt his hands pause their movement to hold you tight to him, his nose nuzzling into your hair as his warm chuckle filled your ears. When both your laughter subsided, Matt placed a kiss into your hair before his hands resumed their movement on your back. You gradually eased back into him beneath you, your eyelids dropping. 

“You know,” Matt began, his tone catching your attention instantly, “I hear orgasms help relieve cramps.”

Your eyes instantly grew wide, your jaw dropping in response to what he’d just suggested. There was a rumble of laughter beneath you again as you raised your head from his chest, staring down at him in shock.

“Matthew!” you shrieked.

His eyes crinkled at the corners, his smile growing wider. “Oh that one warranted my full name, did it?” he teased.

Heat crept its way up your cheeks as you buried your face back into his chest. “Oh my God ,” you groaned, voice muffled.

“I’m just letting you know that I am more than happy to help,” he told you, amusement in his voice. “Just so you know for the future.”

“I am officially embarrassed and uncomfortable,” you mumbled, still hiding your heated face against him.

“I strongly believe that one day you’ll take me up on that,” he mused, his hands still working the muscles of your aching lower back. 

“Doubt it,” you disagreed.

He chuckled yet again, his hands managing to relax you back down from the topic of conversation. Slowly you shifted until your cheek was once again resting along his chest.

“Mmm,” Matt hummed out. “Guess we’ll see who’s right eventually.”

[gyuv1nist]

seat besties

sung hanbin x reader

you would never say you hated university. your course was great, you had a friend group that was also the best support group, and the best of all; your attendance didn't really matter- just as long as you did the work it was fine.

the look of disgust which woonggi sent you in the lecture hall was lethal. “i can’t believe you’re going to ‘seat bestie’ your way into his bed.”

“hey, i did not say that! i’m going to seat bestie my way into getting food with him, then get to know him more, you know like in a romantic way! correct me if i’m wrong but that’s called courting” you shot back, flashing a cheeky smile.

“i’d be surprised if you got anywhere past being able to sit next to him.” your friend, minji chuckled. you rolled your eyes and sunk into your chair.

“you guys are just jealous i don’t want you as my seat bestie.”

and before you knew it, you stood at the back of the classroom, tapping your foot and waiting for the tutor to put the seating arrangement on the screen. in the event in which you did sit next to him, it would be a win-win situation. your attendance will finally look presentable and you got to make it better whilst seeing your crush at the same time.

“are you unhappy with your seat?”

you were yanked out of your small trance and spun around, looking up at the voice. you quickly glanced and felt your heart fall to your stomach as you saw that name next to yours.

“oh! hanbin, hi!” great way to start. “i’m not unhappy, i was just deep in thought, let’s have a good term together.” you smiled, choosing to avoid eye contact with the attractive man in front of you and deciding to beeline straight for the table.

you sat down with him and before you know it, you were already bored out of your mind. it never made sense how professors would act as if the start of a new term meant that you didn’t do several others before. the clock was going extra slow and the slides just seemed to keep going and going. you had to do something before you went crazy.

you rummaged through your pencil case for a bit before finding a marker and flipped the useless schedule to the blank side.

‘since we’re seat besties now, do u wanna give me ur number so we can compare answers in the future? :p’

after hesitating a little bit, you brought your foot to his and gently tapped it, slowly edging the note towards him whilst keeping your eye contact straight ahead. this was way out of character; usually you would wait until someone asked for your number or just let the feelings dissolve but your boredom got the better of you. to your delight, the note was slipped back with more writing than you gave it with.

‘if you actually mean comparing answers sure! but if you just want to steal my answers that’s completely fine too. it’s 0XX-XXX-XXXX :) what other benefits do i get from being your seat bestie?’

deciding to ignore your most undoubtedly increasing heart rate, your pencil was quick to retouch the paper again.

‘you get endless hours of me complaining and maybe some snacks if i’m feeling nice. what do i get out of it??”

‘haha so excited about that. as for you, you get me. not to push my own buttons but if i were you i’d be quite satisfied with that.’

if there was any life on mars, they could for sure see you melt into your seat from the many light years they were away. you raised your eyebrows and looked at him, god knows how you didn’t pass out from the look he gave you back. unfortunately, the note passing made the class go by way too fast and you found yourself already packing away all your stuff.

“don’t make me regret listening to your request hanbin. i’ll let the note passing go this time but next time i will have you guys reading it outloud.” the professor shook his head as the both of you walked out of the room.

wait- what did he just say? what request? did he personally ask to be sat next to you?

“hey, what did he mean back there? what request did you make?” you asked, folding your arms. he quietly chuckled and put his hands up.

“i was hoping he’d not mention that but what’s the point in hiding it now? before this class, i decided to ask if we could be sat together. i heard some things about you being interested in me, and i’m not going to lie and say i’m not interested back.”

your legs locked like chains on a bike and you felt your heart drop into your stomach. “wait, how the fuck do you know?” hanbin kept walking as you took small steps forward.

“you know we are in the same lecture right?” he smiled, looking back at you whilst opening the exit to the building. you slowly nodded and edged closer to him. “to put it straight, you and your friends aren’t the quietest people.”

well shit.

“come on let’s go get some food, that’s what seat besties do no?”

[kckt88]

Gēlenka Zaldrīzes I

Summary:

Events of Dynasty through Aemond's POV.

(There will be a part II)

Warning(s): Pain, Eye Injury, Suffering, Medical Procedures, Non-Con Encounter & the Aftermath, Swearing, Kissing, Falling in Love, P in V Sex, Lactation Kink, Violence, Child Loss, Suicide Attempt, Fear, Arguments, Death.

Word Count: 5720.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

Author Note: A companion piece to Courtship/Wedding & Consummation/Bath Time/Arrival(s)/Mother & Father/Petitions & Final Tributes/The Hand, The King & The Dragon/Dragonstone/Blood & Cheese/A Time for Grief/ Rooks Rest & the Silver King/The Gullet/Taking of a City/Harrenhal and the Rivers/The Gods Eye/The Fallen Queen/New Beginnings/Ravenous/Don't Leave Me & Another Plane of Existence.

But can be read as a one-shot.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated.

Aemond was laid on his bed weeping, the left side of his face covered by thick bandages.

He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. As if losing his eye wasn’t bad enough, now he had to suffer through the agony of the Maester’s slicing through his eye lid.

The Maester on Driftmark had stitched the wound as best he could, but soon after he’d arrived back at the Red Keep an infection had set in and he’d needed urgent treatment.

Not even milk of the poppy was enough to dull the searing pain he’d felt as the Maester’s blade sliced through his stitches.

It took three of them to hold him down as they went about their business.

His mother had hide her face behind her hands as he begged and pleaded for the pain to stop.

"Prince Aemond's recovery will be long and painful, Your Grace”.

"How many more procedures must he endure?" asked Alicent.

"I'm afraid I cannot say Your Grace. Only time will tell".

Alicent took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"Come now Alicent, the boy needs to rest" urged Otto.

Aemond prayed to the seven that he would not have to endure that agony again.

Unfortunately, the gods were unwilling to answer his prayers as he suffered through another two agonizing procedures before the Maester’s were satisfied.

The scar that bisected his face was red and angry and would forever mar his features, the left side of his face disfigured.

His upper and lower eyelids had been removed completely and the empty hollow where his eye had once been was now a grotesque mess and Aemond couldn’t bring himself to face his reflection.

The eyepatch he had started to wear would often irritate the still healing scar and he would often hide in his chambers or the library to avoid the pitying and horrified stares of Lord and Ladies of the court.

Aemond also had to spend hours relearning the most basic of things because without his eye his depth perception had changed.

He was completely blind to things from the left and would often have to turn his body to see what was going on which frustrated him to no end.

But he was a dragon and he would endure his fate.

On his thirteenth name day, his brother Aegon had dragged him to one of his favourite whore houses on the streets of silk to ensure he was properly educated in the art of pleasing women.

“Come now brother, your betrothed will thank me for this on your wedding night” yelled Aegon gleefully as he pushed Aemond towards a lady much older in her years than he.

The entire act made Aemond feel sick to his stomach, the whore wouldn’t stop touching him and making exaggerated sounds as she moved on top of him.

Afterwards, Aemond ran back to the Red Keep and locked himself in his chambers, it made him feel dirty, and disgusting, he wanted to wait until he was married before he lay with a woman.

Aemond thought of his betrothed and wept, she had been so kind to him when she had lived in the Red Keep, the innocent memories of their moments hiding together in the gardens after she had stolen sweets and honey cakes from the kitchens, were now tainted by the touch of a whore.

Aemond had suffered much at the hands of his brother and those bastard strong boys, but Vaera wasn’t like that. She was kind and generous. She was also one of most beautiful creatures that Aemond had ever seen in his whole life.

The day she’d left the Red Keep and moved to Dragonstone made Aemond feel like a huge hole had been punched through his chest.

His only friend had been taken away from him and now because of his brother he was tainted.

That night as he bathed Aemond scrubbed his skin raw, he wanted to erase every single touch and trace of that old whore and he vowed never to return to the street of silk again.

Aegon of course tried to tempt him numerous times to return to the whore that took his innocence, but he flat out refused and would often hide out in his chambers, until his stupid twat of a brother got the message and left him alone.

Afterwards, Aemond dedicated himself to reading history and philosophy, he trained daily with the sword, and he spent hours flying with Vhagar soaring amongst the clouds.

On his fourteenth name day, his mother had gifted him a sapphire to replace his missing eye.

The stone felt foreign and heavy as it was fitted into the empty socket, but it filled the void and gave the socket some shape and structure.

Of course, he kept it hidden beneath the eye patch, but it made him feel more complete, that it wasn’t just an empty space.

He only had a year before his betrothed would return to the Red Keep and he was determined to be a man worthy of her.

Aegon soured at Aemond’s dedication to his training, but his hard work was beginning to pay off, he grew stronger, more focused, and deadly. His precision with the sword was unmatched.

His brother wasted himself with whores and wine, yet Aemond remained steadfast in his determination to be the best.

Aemond was the luckiest man in the seven kingdoms.

Most people get married for political gain, or even wealth. Very few got to marry for love, yet he was one of the lucky ones and despite only just getting married it was already filled with enough love to burst the seams.

His sweet wife was perfection in human form, she never looked upon him with scorn or disgust, she treated him with respect and reverence, even when he’d confessed to his misadventure on the streets of silk.

She was everything he’d ever wanted in a wife.

But she wasn’t without her own struggles, and when he heard of how lonely she’d been on Dragonstone, his heart broke.

She’d also suffered at the hands of her bastard brothers, and it made his blood boil to know that his sweet girl had been made to feel like she less than nothing.

As long as he was breathing, he would never make her feel like that.

He desired her, worshipped her, and would love her until the end of his days and beyond.

After his embarrassing effort during their initial consummation, Aemond was determined that his wife would enjoy the pleasures of the marriage bed.

After the Maester had departed, he reached for her again.

“That was for duty. Now this is for us. I wish to have you again my sweet wife”.

His hunger for her had been awakened that night, and he was not satisfied until he’d filled her with his seed another three times.

They emerged from their shared chambers very late the next day.

He thought his encounter on the streets of silk would forever haunt him, but what he experienced wasn't love. It was seedy and nothing compared to what he had with his wife and when they lay together, it was pleasurable and made him want her all the more.

He would bed his wife at every given opportunity, sometimes he would catch her in the corridor and take her in secluded alcoves, he would even take her against the bookshelves in the library.

Even the secluded island near the stepstones, they would fly their dragons there and Aemond loved laying in the sand as naked as his name day and have Vaera ride him as though he was an unclaimed dragon.

They’d even taken an impromptu trip to the Kingswood and Aemond delighted in his wife’s laughter as he chased her through the trees on horseback. She had looked so beautiful that day, her silver hair wild and untamed, her cheeks-tinged pink. Aemond had to have her.

Needless to say, his mother was not impressed when they both returned to the Red Keep, looking thoroughly dishevelled. Aemond had torn Vaera’s dress in his haste to remove it, and it was covered in numerous grass stains. Her silver hair had bits of dried grass and dead twigs stuck in it and Aemond’s appearance wasn’t fairing any better, his normally immaculate leather tunic and breeches were splattered with mud and his hair was knotted and unkempt.

Aegon found the entire situation hilarious and almost died laughing when Alicent scolded both Aemond and Vaera for being depraved and warned them both that laying with one another should be confined to the privacy of their bed chambers.

They were ordered to bathe and wash away the filth of their indulgence, and never act like that again. Did they listen? Of course, they didn’t. If anything, it made Aemond more determined to indulge in the pleasures of his wife’s soft flesh.

The day his wife had given birth to his sons was perhaps one of the best days of his existence.

Aemon and Rhaegar, his little dragons.

Becoming a father terrified Aemond, his own father wasn’t exactly a shining example of what a father should be, and he was worried that he wouldn’t know what to do or even how to love his children.

But the moment he held those tiny babes in his arms, he knew he would burn the world for them.

The need to protect these precious little dragons washed over him like a wave, he wanted to be involved with every single aspect of their upbringing.

He would read to them and snuggle them in his arms as they slept.

He would help to bathe them and changed their soiled cloths, his brother teased him and even his own grandsire told him that such things were not befitting of a Prince, but he didn’t care.

He was determined that his children would know his love, and they would grow up knowing that he loved their mother with every fibre of his being.

Aemond would wake in the night and attend to one of the twins as his wife took turns feeding them.

He was in awe of her, it was customary for royal babes to have a wet nurse, but Vaera refused. She insisted on providing their sons with her own mothers milk, and of course Aemond insisted on trying it for himself when his wife welcomed him within her body once again.

He took his time worshipping her mother’s body, her soft curves, and swollen breasts. He would run his fingers slowly along her rosy nipples and delight in her soft gasps and moans as she found her pleasure with him.

The mere thought of his wife moaning his name as he made sweet love to her made his cock harden in his breeches.

She was his heart, his soul, and his reason for existence. Never in his life did he ever think he would ever be so lucky as to call her his wife.

Aegon would often mock him for being soppy and cuntstruck, but he didn’t care. Nothing in the world mattered except his sweet wife and their little dragons.

Speaking of little dragons, the day Aemon and Rhaegar’s eggs hatched was probably one of the proudest moments of his life. The hatchlings Brightfyre and Valaerys were welcomed with open wings so to speak.

Vaera was determined that the tiny dragons would not be chained in the dragon pit and despite some initial fears, she got her wish.

Aemond once asked her why she was so openly opposed to the dragon pit, and she told him that dragons were far more intelligent that people gave them credit for, and they were magnificent creatures that didn’t deserve to be locked up. She was also of the belief that locking them away was stunting their growth.

Vhagar had spent most of her life free of chains and she was the largest dragon in the world, even Cannibal was on the larger side. No other dragons could even compete with the sheer size of Vhagar and Cannibal, so Aemond decided there had to be some credibility to what Vaera was saying. But the council were unwilling to make the Dragon Pit open access. Which broke his wife’s heart, but Aemond was determined that one day he would see her wish granted.

The audacity of his bitch sister to think she can summon his wife and their children to her side at a moment’s notice.

Rhaenyra hadn’t bothered with her own daughter since her wedding day, and she certainly hadn’t come to visit her grandchildren since their birth almost two years prior.

Now because her darling strong bastard was on the cusp of losing his false birthright, she could drag herself to Kings Landing to defend him.

The look on her face when Vaera refused her and stood beside him in the throne room, made Aemond feel all giddy inside, her own actions caused the mess she was in, and it couldn’t have been any sweeter.

Well, it could have been if Vaemond had been successful in seizing the Driftwood Throne, but his father rosed himself from his sick bed and defended the claim of his favourite child and her bastard boy.

The moment his rotting father had lumbered his way to the Iron Throne, Aemond knew it was over. Even when Princess Rhaenys announced the betrothals of her granddaughters to the strong boys, it was done. But Vaemond wouldn’t accept defeat and he lost his head for it.

Daemon swung his sword with precision and ease. Dark Sister sliced through meat and bone like it was nothing, proving to the Lords and Ladies of the realm that were present that he would defend his lady wife and the bastards at all costs.

The family gathering that night was so tense that you could cut the atmosphere with a knife.

Aemond had no desire to break bread with people he considered the enemy.

All he wanted to do was go back to his chambers and fuck his wife into the mattress.

Vaera looked so beautiful that evening. Her supple body covered in the blue silk of her dress and her long silver hair unbound and cascading down her back like a waterfall.

Aemond wanted to bury his hands in his wife’s long tresses as he filled her cunny with his seed.

But alas they both had to sit and maintain the air of decorum and propriety.

Soon the King entered, and everyone rose from their seats as Viserys was carried to the table.

"How good it is to see you all tonight together" wheezed Viserys once everyone was seated.

"Prayer before we begin. May the mother smile down on this gathering with love. May the Smith mend the bonds that have been broken for far too long. And to Vaemond Velaryon, may the gods give him rest”.

"This is a cause for celebration. My grandsons, Jace and Luke, shall marry their cousins, Rhaena and Baela, to further strengthen the bond between our families. A toast to the young princes, and their betrothed" said Viserys.

Aemond felt Vaera’s hand squeeze his thigh under the table, her touch grounding him as his father’s wheezing voice echoed around the dining room.

Aemond hated it, having to sit at the same table as those bastards and play nice.

Of course, Aegon tried to liven things up a little bit, but it didn’t last.

Then Vaera had to leave feast to attend to their son Rhaegar who no doubt wanted one last snuggle before it was time for him to go to sleep.

However, that little strong bastard had the audacity to laugh at him, after everything he’d put him through. All the pain and suffering he’d had to endure.

Sat there smirking and laughing as the roasted pig was placed in front of him.

‘Behold the pink dread’.

“Final tribute. To the health of my nephews. Jace and Luke. Each of them, handsome, wise and strong”

“Aemond” warned Alicent.

“Come, let us drain our cups, to these two strong boys”.

“I dare you to say that again” snarled Jace.

“Why? It was only a compliment; do you not think yourself strong?”.

His mother of course did not take to kindly to his tribute.

Not his fault that his strong nephews were so sensitive.

His mood was rather sour as he marched out of the dining room, he needed his wife. To feel her touch, to know she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

“A-Aemond. What’s wrong?” asked Vaera as he stormed into their chambers.

“Tell me you love me” muttered Aemond as he pulled his wife to him.

“I love you”.

“Tell me you need me” begged Aemond as he lowered his head and pressed his face into Vaera’s shoulder.

“I need you”.

“Tell me you want me” whispered Aemond placing gentle kisses along the column of Vaera’s neck.

“I want you”.

“Hm” muttered Aemond as his fingers began untying the laces of her shift.

“I-I haven’t bathed tonight” said Vaera shivering as the shift slipped from her body, leaving her standing naked.

“I don’t care. I need you. Please” muttered Aemond as he began pulling off his own clothes.

Vaera nodded wordlessly as Aemond kissed her, walking them backwards towards the bed.

His father was dead and now his wastrel of a brother was King.

Perhaps what angered him the most was the doubts regarding his wife’s loyalty.

Sure, she was Rhaenyra’s daughter, but she loyal to him and their sons. He never had any doubt when it came to his wife.

His grandsire had travelled to Dragonstone to deliver terms to his half-sister, but he clearly didn’t trust her so now he had to fly to Storms End and offer his brother Daeron’s hand in marriage to one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters in exchange for his support.

His mother had foolishly let it slip that Jasper Wyle the preening shit had suggested that their own marriage should be annulled in favour of a more beneficial match.

Of course, he did not take to kindly to hearing the news and had promptly seized Jasper by the collar and threatened to slit his throat if he ever dared to make such a suggestion again.

It was only the intervention of both his mother and Vaera that seem to pacify him.

He didn’t want to leave his wife or their sons, but he had no choice.

He had hoped that his meeting with the Baratheon Lord would go smoothly.

How his hope died when Lucerys Velaryon showed up.

Preening little shit had the audacity to try and petition for Baratheon’s support.

Little Luke almost pissed his pants when he showed him the sapphire that had replaced his eye.

Demanding his eye was a spur of the moment thing, as was chasing him through the stormy skies on the back of Vhagar.

It gave him a sense of satisfaction that now it was Luke who was afraid. That the bastard boy was no longer laughing at him.

He could end it, Vhagar could devour little Lucerys Velaryon, and the debt would be paid. But he couldn’t do that to Vaera, even though she wasn’t particularly close to the boy he was still her brother and killing him would do more harm than good.

So, he let him go.

He watched solemnly as the bastards tiny mouse of a dragon disappeared into the clouds.

Vhagar made her anger known, she had grown bored of chasing the little dragon through the skies and Aemond knew better than to ignore his grumpy old girl.

So, he directed her to return to Kings Landing.

He’d secured an alliance with the Baratheon’s and now all he wanted to do was climb into bed with his wife and sleep.

If the birth of his sons was one of the best days of his existence, then the death of Aemon was the worst.

Nothing could have prepared him for the sight that greeted him that day.

His wife cradling the lifeless body of their son in her arms.

The utter despair and devastation.

His whole world had just collapsed on itself.

“Our boy. They took our boy” wailed Vaera as she clutched Aemon’s body.

Aemond didn’t know what to do. He felt completely useless.

Following Aemon’s death, his wife had completely shut down.

She’d lost herself to her grief and wouldn’t speak to anyone.

The only reaction she had was when Rhaegar was out of her sight, she would scream like a banshee until he was returned to her.

Rhaegar was also suffering in the wake of his twins death. He had nightmares and would only sleep if he was sandwiched between Aemond and Vaera. During the day, he would hover around his mother, clinging to her skirts as she sat staring into space.

 Even though he was grieving for his son and nephew, Aemond had to remain strong, yet inside he was a wreck. He kept waking in the night to ensure that Rhaegar was still breathing, and taking care of Vaera was immensely difficult.

He had to force her to eat and drink, he even had to force her to use the toilet and bathe. It broke his heart to see his once bright wife, withering away into nothing and Helaena wasn’t any better.

It turned out that she had been forced to choose between Jaehaerys and Maelor, and in her desperation she had chosen Maelor only for Blood to slit Jaehaerys’ throat instead and now she couldn’t bring herself to look at any of her children.

The goons who had murdered two innocent children, had been caught and tortured to within an inch of their lives. They revealed that they’d been hired by a whore called Mysaria at the request of Daemon.

'A life for a life'

Jaehaerys for Visenya and Aemon for Lucerys.

It made Aemond feel sick to his stomach that Daemon had arranged for his own grandsons murder, that he’d willingly inflicted that pain upon his own daughter.

Even more so that he was being blamed for the death of Lucerys.

The bastard boy had been alive the last time he'd seen him.

What ever harm had befallen the boy it was nothing to do with him, but people still whispered kinslayer.

The funerals were difficult, his heart had been in his mouth when his sweet Rhaegar requested to say goodbye to his brother.

So, Aemond lifted his son into his arms and took him over to the funeral pyre.

“Geros ilas lēkia” whispered Rhaegar (Goodbye brother).

Aemond squeezed his eye shut at the sound of Rhaegar’s sweet voice.

“Avy jorrāelan” said Rhaegar sweetly (I love you).

Rhaegar suddenly lurched forward and gently placed his stuffed dragon teddy on his brother’s wrapped body.

“So, you’re not alone” muttered Rhaegar as he leaned forward and placed a delicate kiss on his brother’s forehead.

“Come on sweet boy” said Aemond as he carried Rhaegar back to his mother.

“-It’s Princess Vaera. S-She’s going to jump” shouted the young squire as he whirled around and raced out of the council chambers.

“WHAT” shrieked Aemond as he took off running after the squire, ignoring the frantic calls of his mother and brother.

His heart was pounding in his chest as he chased after the squire. Not to their chambers, but to the room where Aemon and Jaehaerys had been killed.

Ser Arryk was hovering near the door softly calling Vaera’s name, seemingly terrified to take another step inside the room.

When he came to a stop at the door, he understood Ser Arryk’s hesitation. 

Vaera was standing at the open window, her hands gripping the frame as she teetered on the edge.

“Issa jorrāelagon” (My love).

“Nyke jaelagon naejot ūndegon zirȳla aril” replied Vaera (I want to see him again).

“Nyke gīmigon ao gaomagon, yn daor raqagon bisa” (I know you do, but not like this).

Vaera shook her head and closed her eyes.

“Kostilus issa jorrāelagon” (Please, my love).

“We’re never going to hear his laugh or see his face again” cried Vaera.

“W-We will. In our hearts”

“He made us so happy. Him and Rhaegar” said Vaera.

“We will talk about him, every single day and we’ll laugh, and we will cry. Vaera, no one will remember Aemon like we do”.

“How do I stop this pain? How do I make it go away” sobbed Vaera as she staggered on the edge of the windowsill.

“We deal with it together”

“I-I just want him back. I want him in my arms” wailed Vaera.

“I know you do. But please Vaera, don’t do this. Think about Rhaegar, he still needs his mother” cried Aemond as he motioned for the Kings guard to stay where they were.

He didn’t want to spook Vaera, she was so close to the edge. One wrong move and she’d either slip or impulsively jump.

The Cannibal and Vhagar were roaring ferociously in the distance.

“I don’t know how to live without Aemon”.

“Please, my love. Do not let me also suffer the agony of losing my wife”

“A-Aemond I-I can’t-“

“You are the love of my life, my reason for existence. If you die. I die. I cannot live without you. Please come away from the ledge. Please don’t-“

“I don’t want to forget him” said Vaera quietly as her body shook.

“We won’t. I promise”

She was so close to the edge, one slip and it was over.

Without skipping a beat, he quickly lurched forward, secured his arms around Vaera’s waist, and yanked her back from the window.

Ever since he’d pulled Vaera back from the window, he and Rhaegar were helping Vaera during her darkest of days. They would often curl up together as a family in their chambers and hold one another until the darkness ebbed.

Even though his ashes had been entered into the great sept. Aemond had a special plaque made in the gardens for Aemon. Despite his desire to be just like his father, Aemon always loved the gardens, especially when he would chase after Rhaegar the pair of them would roll on the grass together giggling.

It gave Vaera a sense of comfort, as she would often spend hours just sitting in front of Aemon’s plaque talking and reading his favourite book.

Her other salvation came in the form of Cannibal. Her fiercely loyal dragon who gracefully took to the skies with his rider and flew for as long as they both needed too. Sometimes Brightfyre and Vhagar would accompany them, the dark blue scales of Aemon’s dragon shimmering in the sunlight as he broke through the clouds, chirping expectantly at Cannibal who had no qualms about keeping his hatchling in line as he would often throw a customary snarl in his direction.

But the war between the Greens and the Blacks still raged.

He didn’t want to leave Vaera and Rhaegar, but he had too.

They had laid a trap at Rooks Rest for the Blacks, and nine days later, Rhaenys Targaryen, and her dragon, Meleys arrived above Rook's Rest to aid Lord Staunton.

Vhagar and Sunfyre engaged Meleys in a combined and coordinated attack, which resulted in the death of Meleys and left Rhaenys and Aegon severely injured.

Rhaenys was sent back to Driftmark to recover from her injuries and Aegon was carried back to Kings Landing atop Vhagar.

The heads of Lord Staunton and Meleys were paraded through the streets of Kings Landing in a show of the Greens victory over the Blacks.

After Rooks Rest, Aegon was far too injured to carry on serving the realm as King, so he was chosen to wear the conquerors crown instead.

He fashioned himself as Prince Regent and the Lords bent their knee to him.

But ever since the crown had touched his head, his wife had grown more distant from him.

His duties as Prince Regent kept him very busy and quite often it was late into the night when he would finally return to his chambers, utterly exhausted and desperate to seek the comfort of his wife.

But she would pull away from him and quite often she would sneak out of bed and sleep in Rhaegar’s chambers.

There were days where she would even look at him, much less speak.

Even his son wouldn’t call for him anymore, it used to be his favourite thing to do. Snuggle under the covers at night-time and read Rhaegar his favourite story, but now he called for his mama instead.

He’d even stopped asking him to take him to see his dragon Valaerys, which was a bitter blow as it was something the two of them liked to do together as father and son.

Just when things couldn’t get any worse, Vaera confronted him in their shared chambers, and they had a huge argument.

She accused him of failing in his duties as a husband and father and threatened to take Rhaegar away from him and fly across the narrow sea.

He was livid. How fucking dare she speak to him like that. He had raged at her for what she’d said but then something crazy took hold of him and he kissed her.

They’d not been intimate in some time and just one touch of her lips upon his had reignited that fire in his blood.

He was an animal, untamed and unleashed. All the pent-up anger and frustration just poured out of him as he brutally fucked his wife. His hips relentlessly pounding against hers as he chased his release.

Gods she felt amazing, her warm, wet heat wrapped around him.

She took everything he gave her, screaming his name as she peaked, her cunny clenching his cock so tight as he spilled his seed into her, he was groaning so loud he was sure the entirety of the Red Keep had heard their coupling.

Afterwards when he saw her tears, he was horrified at what he’d done.

He'd never been so rough with her before and he was scared he'd hurt her.

But his sweet wife reassured him that she wasn’t crying because of what they’d just done, she was crying because of what she’d said, the threat she’d made, she didn’t mean it.

His heart broke because he knew deep down it was his own fault, he’d neglected both her and Rhaegar.

The responsibility of the crown had completely taken over his life.

It had to stop. He couldn’t be without his wife or their son.

He had vowed on their wedding day, to love her forever and by the gods he’d meant it.

“Lord Corlys is back on Driftmark caring for my grandmother. Meleys is dead. We should take the dragons and attack the Velaryon fleet. Destroy the blockade and free the Gullet”.

“It’s too dangerous” replied Otto.

“Dangerous for who exactly? If we destroy the blockade, sea born trade will resume. The people of Kings Landing are starving. We need to act now. Otherwise, you’ll have a riot on your hands” snapped Vaera.

“Your Grace if we-“

“-No. The time for sending letters is over. My love please see reason” urged Vaera.

Aemond knew Vaera was right, the people of Kings Landing were starting to get desperate, crime rates were up, and food was becoming scarcer. It was only a matter of time before everything came to a head.

But the idea of Vaera flying into battle on the back of Cannibal filled Aemond with a sense of dread that was incomprehensible. Aemon’s death was still so fresh, as was Vaera’s attempt to end her own life. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. Not ever.

“I-I will take Vhagar and attack the Velaryon fleet” said Aemond firmly.

“You are the Prince Regent. We cannot allow you to take that risk,” said Otto.

“I will not sit behind the walls of the Red Keep and cower like some frightened dog. Vhagar is more than capable”.

“It’s not about Vhagar, it’s about you. All it takes is one stray arrow and that’s it,” said Criston.

“So, I sit here and do nothing” snarled Aemond.

“I could take Cannibal, he’s-“ said Vaera.

“-NO. You will remain here in the Red Keep with our son” ordered Aemond.

“Cannibal is the second largest dragon in the world. Surely you knew it would come to this. We have dragons, we should use them” said Vaera.

“They have dragons as well or have you forgotten” snapped Aemond.

“Caraxes is at Harrenhal with Daemon, Meleys and Arrax are dead. Syrax, Vermax, Moon Dancer and Storm Cloud are the only dragons on Dragonstone that have riders and even they are no match for Vhagar or Cannibal. This is our best chance”.

“The Princess is right,” said Tyland.

“The answer is still no and that’s final” yelled Aemond slamming his fist into the table.

“Your Grace” replied Vaera, before she stormed out of the council chambers, and slammed the door.

After an hour or so, the council meeting ended and Aemond retreated to his chambers, he hesitated slightly before he took a deep breath and opened the heavy wooden door, fully prepared to deal with his wife’s anger upon his entrance.

Ever since their argument, they had decided to be more honest and open with one another and instead of letting things fester they would talk and make time for one another.

But to his great surprise, he was greeted with a warm smile as Vaera lounged on their bed reading a book.

“Your back early”.

“I decided to end the meeting early” replied Aemond as he took of the conqueror’s crown and placed it on Vaera’s vanity.

“Probably for the best, maybe a good night’s rest will clear the mind” suggested Vaera.

“I-I thought you would be angry with me?”

“Why would I be angry?” asked Vaera cocking her head to the side.

“B-Because I wouldn’t let you take Cannibal to destroy the Velaryon fleet” replied Aemond feeling slightly unnerved at his wife’s rather calm demeanour.

“Your decision came from a place of love. I might not have understood that at the time, but I do now” said Vaera sweetly.

“Hm”

“Come to bed husband” said Vaera as she closed her book and placed it on the bedside table.

Aemond watched as his wife, began untying the laces of her shift. Clearly trying to tempt him in the most delicious of ways.

After a stressful day of endless meetings, he needed his wife. He needed to feel her wet heat wrapped around him. He needed to fuck her into the mattress.

He needed her now.

Aemond tore off his clothes and jumped on top of his wife, his desire for her clouding his mind. All that mattered in that moment was the two of them, writhing together, their bodies joined as one.

Hours later, he was fast asleep. Satisfied beyond all comprehension.

He didn’t notice his wife slipping out their bed and pulling on her riding leathers.

Slumbering sweetly as she snuck from their chambers and headed towards her Cannibal, and under the cover of nightfall they took to the skies and headed for the Gullet.

[pearlsephoni]

Just Between Us

Can also be read on AO3!

Rating: E

Fandom: Haikyuu!!

Pairing: Kagehina (Kageyama/Hinata), mentions of Bokuaka (Bokuto/Akaashi) and Iwaoi (Iwaizumi/Oikawa)

Characters: Shoyo Hinata, Tobio Kageyama, Atsumu Miya, Kotaro Bokuto, cameos from Korai Hoshiumi, Wakatoshi Ushijima, Aran Ojiro, Tooru Oikawa, and Hajime Iwaizumi

Word Count: 12.5k

Summary: Hinata Shoyo has fulfilled his greatest dreams: reach the top of the volleyball world with Kageyama Tobio, and be loved by Kageyama Tobio. One is very public, while the other is hidden only for each other and their closest loved ones. A risk gone wrong threatens to change that.

A/N: Originally published on AO3 on June 24th for @/Lmc_thph this year's Kagehina Exchange, and beta'd by @/danatooine. Further author's notes can be found on AO3.

***

“God damn, Tobio-kun!”

Shoyo’s shoulders shot up with Kageyama’s, even though his name wasn’t called. When he looked around, he immediately saw the cause for Atsumu’s loud surprise, and his heart sank.

The broad, defined, beautiful expanse of Kageyama’s back was marred by red lines, a set of four on each of his shoulder blades like wings.

There was a burst of shuffling and murmuring as other members of the National Team tried to get a look at Kageyama’s back. To Shoyo’s relief, the setter had already tugged his practice jersey on, covering up the implicating marks.

“Didn’t think ya had it in ya!” Atsumu cooed with a shit-eating grin. “Who’s the lucky lady? Or— hold on, you’re gay, right?”

“Please stop talking, Atsumu-san,” Kageyama muttered. Atsumu did not look like he was going to listen, but Kageyama was saved by Ushijima clapping his hands and urging the lingering team members to get out to the court already.

Shoyo didn’t look away from Kageyama fast enough to avoid meeting his eyes for the briefest breath, and he felt a jolt up his spine at the stormy anger in that blue gaze.

Oh, he was fucked.

***

“Fuck me.”

Shoyo pulled away to stare wide-eyed at Kageyama. “Really? But your team won the 3-on-3’s.”

“Yeah, so I get to choose. Fuck me.”

Oh. Huh. Shoyo was straddling Kageyama’s hips, fully prepared to stretch himself out and seat himself on his thick length. That was how it usually went when Kageyama won a game, and Shoyo had nearly gotten them exposed to the team. Honestly, he’d been kind of…looking forward to what kind of punishment Kageyama was going to dole out.

Not that he was going to complain. He eagerly scrambled to climb off of Kageyama’s hips and in between his legs, grabbing the bottle of lube on the journey. “What’s the occasion?” he asked as he slicked up his fingers.

“Do I need an occasion for you to fuck me?” Kageyama grumbled.

“Mm-hm! Maybe you remembered how much you love me, or how good I played earlier, or how I fuck you better than— wah!” His clean hand just barely caught Kageyama’s foot before it could collide with his face.

“Are you going to fuck me, or not?”

“Patience, Bossy-yama,” Shoyo cooed, brushing a light kiss to the inside of Kageyama’s ankle. He heard a quiet, sharp inhale, and he smirked into Kageyama’s soft skin before brushing another kiss to his ankle, then the inside of his knee, then tracing a path along the inside of his thigh.

With every brush of his lips, Kageyama’s breaths quickened, until his lips hovered over the hard curve of Kageyama’s cock. His tongue darted out to lick at his flushed cockhead, and that finally dragged a hoarse “Sho…” from Kageyama’s wet lips.

“Hm?” Shoyo hummed, looking up with wide, innocent eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Kageyama was flushed with heavy-lidded eyes, but he still scowled down at Shoyo with stubbornly closed lips. Shoyo didn’t mind—he knew how to break him. “Gotta use your words, To-bi-o,” he sang, brushing a kiss along his cock with every syllable of his name.

“I already did,” Kageyama bit out. He wrapped a leg around Shoyo’s waist, dragging his foot up until it pressed into the small of his back. “Fuck me.”

“Bossy,” Shoyo tutted. Without warning, he sank a finger into Kageyama, smirking when his foot immediately dropped from his back and went limp on the bed, matching the way his head fell back with a low moan.

He loved fucking Kageyama, loved feeling him wrapped tight and warm around him, but he especially loved watching him unravel like this. It was one thing to watch him grit his teeth and furrow his brows with concentration as he pounded Shoyo into oblivion, that concentration breaking only when Shoyo clenched tight around him. It was another thing entirely to melt him down from the inside out.

One finger became two, then became three, all crooked perfectly and pressing just enough to pull another cry from Kageyama. “Fuck, Sho—!”

“I know,” Shoyo hushed, leaning up to ghost a kiss against Kageyama’s wet, parted lips.

“I’m ready,” Kageyama groaned. “I’m ready, c’mon, just— mmh!”

“Okay, okay!” A fond huff of laughter escaped him as he reached for the lube. “Condom?”

“No.” Sweat-damp strands of black hair clung to the pillow as Kageyama shook his head, unable to even lift it.

“Really?” The word came out as more of a moan than a question, Shoyo’s concentration nearly escaping him at the slick grip of his own hand around his throbbing cock. He was almost dizzy from how badly he wanted to pump himself fast and hard, but he held himself back, letting the wet, filthy sounds of his strokes reach both his and Kageyama’s ears. Those dark blue eyes widened for a beat, before growing heavy with desire again.

“No condom?” Shoyo murmured, leaning down just enough to bump their noses together. “You want me to fill you up? You want to spill with me? What if you can’t get it all out and it leaks tomorrow?” Anyone else might have looked mortified at the thought, but not Kageyama. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip, biting back another moan. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Want everyone to know their best setter is a slut who gets filled up after practice?”

“M’not—” Kageyama’s protest trailed off into a shuddered breath of anticipation, distracted by Shoyo lining his tip up with his stretched rim.

“I know,” Shoyo hummed with a smirk. “You don’t spread your legs for just anyone, right? The only one allowed here”—he began pushing in, watching Kageyama wilt against the bed—“is me.”

“Only you,” Kageyama breathlessly agreed, wrapping his legs around Shoyo’s hips. “C’mon, Sho, fill me up.”

“Fuck.” That was all Shoyo could manage, all his focus narrowed on slowly pushing in, bit by bit, soaking in the sound of Kageyama’s bit-back moans and the sight of his heaving, flushed chest, until their hips finally met. “Good?”

“Wait,” Kageyama gasped, eyes screwed tight from the stretch.

This was one of the only situations where Shoyo was happy to wait. He trailed kisses and lightly sucked at Kageyama’s collarbones as the setter adjusted, pulling away just to watch his bites bloom like roses against his pale skin. Normally, this was the only time he could mark Kageyama up without getting yelled at, his nags replaced with shuddering sighs from the stretch.

But instead of melting more, Kageyama seemed to become unnervingly alert, eyes fluttering up to look down at Shoyo and lips curving down around his deep breaths. When he finally said, “I’m ready,” his voice came out more as a grunt than a sigh.

Shoyo obeyed, but not without asking, “Is something wrong?”

“What?”

“You look grumpier than usual.” Truthfully, Kageyama rarely looked grumpy at all in bed, but Shoyo wasn’t going to pass up a chance to tease him.

“Maybe because a dumbass nearly had us found out today,” Kageyama snapped. Despite his grumpy words, his legs tightened around Shoyo’s hips, urging him to move.

“You like when I mark you up!”

“Yeah, in places people won’t notice! Not—ah!—scratches the whole locker room sees!”

“Who asked you to—nngh—change in the middle of the locker room?”

“Who asked you to scratch up my whole back?”

“Didn’t hear you complain last night!”

“You little—mmh!”

Shoyo dipped down and cut him off with a kiss, his hips speeding up with every bite and lick. Driving into Kageyama with nothing between them was sublime. It never failed to drive Shoyo’s greed and want higher and higher with every thrust—

“Aahhh, the hell—?!” Shoyo arched away from the nails digging into his back, scratching sharp lines down his skin and making a mixture of pain and pleasure spark through him. His hips stuttered before driving in even deeper than before, pulling a whine from Kageyama. “Ow, Tobi!”

Shoyo’s heart skipped a beat at Kageyama’s smirk. How could someone look so annoying and so hot? “Oops.”

“You were just nagging me about that!”

“I wasn’t nagging— ah, fuck, there!”

Shoyo pushed himself upright until his hands were free to clutch at Kageyama’s hips, holding him in place so he could thrust fast and deep and hard into his prostate. The pressure would’ve been too much for Shoyo, but it was perfect for Kageyama, unraveling him until he was reduced to wordless gasps and moans.

“Good, Yama?”

“Ah, ahhhh, Sho, fuck!”

“That a yes?”

“Fuck off, you know— fuck!”

Shoyo felt spellbound, watching Kageyama like this: flushed, sweaty, black hair a mess, eyes half-lidded and dazed, lips kiss-swollen and parted around helpless noises. A grin pulled at his lips when those noises grew higher and almost-panicked. That was Shoyo’s cue to wrap his hand, still slippery with traces of lube, around Kageyama’s cock. He only needed one tug to make Kageyama cry out, “Yes!” That normally-gruff voice was ragged and whining, adorned with slutty moans that Shoyo knew only he would get to hear.

“Close, Tobi?”

“Yeah, fuck, Sho—”

“C’mon, baby, come for me.” Shoyo dipped down to brush his lips over the marks he’d sucked into Kageyama’s collarbones. “I wanna feel you go all tight around me.”

He punctuated the sentence with an extra squeeze to Kageyama’s cock. That was all he needed—with a cry, Kageyama arched off of the bed as white spurted across his abs and down Shoyo’s hand. His walls rippled around Shoyo, sucking him in deeper and tighter until he had no choice but to fall over the edge behind him. “Nnh, Tobio,” he groaned, grinding in until he finally emptied himself.

His cum was already seeping out around his softening length, and when he pulled out, he could barely grab a towel in time to stem the small stream that began to leak. “Wow, I filled you up,” he laughed breathlessly.

Kageyama didn’t respond beyond a low groan until Shoyo finished wiping him as clean as he could. The moment the towel left his skin, he planted a foot on Shoyo’s stomach and gently nudged him away, wincing at the movement in his leg. “Ow,” he grunted, weakly rubbing at the underside of his thigh. “The hell did you do?”

“Gave you the best fuck of your life?” Shoyo answered sweetly, until his eyes looked at where Kageyama was rubbing. “...Oh, fuck.”

“What? What’d you do?”

“Um…” There were deep red marks right where Shoyo could remember his hips driving in. He knew he fucked Kageyama hard, but he didn’t mean to bruise him. “You…might have more marks tomorrow.”

“How?” Kageyama snapped, looking much more alert from his post-orgasm daze.

“What do you mean, how?” Shoyo snapped back. “I fucked you! It’s not my fault you bruise like a peach!”

“It’s not my fault you have such bony hips!”

“Yeah right, like you weren’t groping all over them last night!”

“God, shut up,” Kageyama growled, grabbing Shoyo around the back of his neck and pulling him into a hungry, angry kiss. Shoyo went easily, more than happy to let Kageyama flip him over and part his legs.

It looked like he was going to get that punishment after all.

***

Shoyo loved playing volleyball. He loved playing it indoors and on the beach, in Japan and in Brazil, in casual games and in international championships.

But nothing, nothing, could measure up to standing on the court with Kageyama. It didn’t matter if they were on the same team or staring at each other through the net—Shoyo felt alive playing with Kageyama in a way no other team or player had ever made him feel.

Yes, he loved playing against Kageyama as much as on the same team, but the perk of being on the National Team together was training in the same city, in the same gym. When the best of Japan’s volleyball players were gathered in Tokyo, barely a night passed where Shoyo wasn’t with Kageyama.

The only problem was, the rest of the team didn’t know they were dating. Never mind that they were as good as engaged, only missing a ring. With how public everything else about their lives was, it was almost a relief to have something so intimate, so sweet, so comfortable be kept private, just for the two of them and their closest loved ones.

So, they had a system: Shoyo rented an apartment in the same building as Kageyama’s, so that it wouldn’t seem suspicious for them to be leaving together in the morning. They staggered their returns home, and Shoyo made sure to have his hair hidden under a cap when he stayed over at Kageyama’s place. They kept up their usual bickering, teasing, comfortable rapport at practice and during games, but anything more than brushed hands or “sportly” hugs were saved until they were behind closed doors.

But they weren’t perfect. They had their close calls, their stolen kisses in deserted halls and their ill-placed marks. Shoyo especially liked to live on the edge with the marks and hickeys he left on Kageyama. Yeah, he was much more disciplined now than he had been in high school, and that included thinking through his choices more.

Man, did he like to tease the limits when it came to Kageyama. Not too much, of course. They’d managed to avoid scrutiny for the most part. The instance with Atsumu was an isolated incident, nothing more. When Shoyo woke up the next morning to find scratches down his back, hickeys along his collarbones and the hollow of his throat, and bruises pressed into his thighs and hips, he wasn’t that alarmed. Sure, some would be trickier to properly hide, but even if some showed, it’d be fine. It wasn’t like any of them would be photographed or otherwise immortalized.

Then they walked into the gym, and were faced by their coach and two photographers lingering at his elbow. “Ah, Hinata, Kageyama, welcome!” their coach greeted them.

“Hey, Coach.” Shoyo answered for himself and Kageyama. “Who’re, um…”

“Ah, them?” Their coach threw a careless glance over his shoulder. “I’ll go into more detail when the rest of the team gets here, but basically: the Olympics committee wanted to build up some hype for the upcoming games, so they’re sending photographers to get shots of all of Japan’s national teams in action.”

Shoyo’s stomach dropped. “...Photos?”

“Yeah?” Shoyo squirmed under their coach’s raised brow. “Is there a problem?”

“N-no! Not at all, just…” Shoyo slapped on an attempt at his usual charismatic smile. “I forgot to double-check my good side, Coach!”

“Oh, ha ha. Go change and warm up.”

Kageyama had stayed silent through the exchange, and managed to hold himself together until they were alone in the locker room. “What the fuck?!” he hissed.

“What?!”

“What do you mean, what? We’re getting photographed, dumbass! For the whole country to see! Shit, maybe the whole world, oh, fuck me—”

“Already did,” Shoyo joked automatically, only for his words to crack into a yelp when Kageyama sank his fingers into his hair.

“Shut up! Look what you did!” With his free hand, Kageyama jerked aside his collar, and Shoyo winced at what was revealed: clusters of now-purpling bruises lined his collarbones and reached the precise line where the collar of his shirt landed. “The second I raise my arms to set and lower them again, everyone will see these! Including the photographers.”

Shoyo winced, not even bothering to squirm when Kageyama yanked his collar aside to look at the damage he’d created. He watched that handsome face go pale, and felt his stomach grow leaden with dread. “What…what do we do?”

“What can we do?” Kageyama grumbled. “We’ll just have to hope we play well enough to distract people from…anything else.”

He began pulling away, but Shoyo caught his hand and, after making sure they were alone in the locker room, chanced a brush to his palm. “I’m sorry, Tobi. I didn’t know—”

“Dumbass, don’t apologize. I went overboard, too.” Kageyama brushed his thumb across the back of Shoyo’s hand before finally pulling away. “Come on. We gotta warm up.”

Predictably, but thankfully, practice ended up being exactly what they needed to distract themselves. Even if it was less of a proper practice and more of an impromptu publicity photoshoot. Shoyo didn’t mind, not when the very photographers they’d feared ended up directing him and Kageyama to carry out both freak and regular quick attacks. Yes, there was a special thrill that came from landing the freak quick during an actual match. But when Shoyo whirled towards Kageyama for a celebratory high five, and his smile was met by a grin of pride and quiet adoration, the rush of love he felt still filled him with warmth and happiness separate from the court.

“Wow, Kageyama, how come we never see that smile in your ads?” Hoshiumi chuckled from the sidelines after the fifth quick for the cameras.

Kageyama’s cheeks flushed a pretty pink that was different from the usual ruddiness of exercise. “It’s…it’s because I’m never playing in those ads.”

“You play in the Power Curry ads,” Ushijima remarked, not to tease, just to state a fact. “But you never smile in those.”

“Because I’m focusing.”

“So you’re not focused when you toss to me?” Shoyo gasped, eager to join the group teasing. “Are you distracted with your precious freak attack partner, Yama-kun?”

“My what?” Any and all signs of embarrassment were sapped by annoyance as Kageyama shot a hand towards Shoyo’s head. He missed, as usual, because Shoyo expected it, as usual. “I’m not distracted, dumbass, just…” The truth was clear in his eyes, but stalled on his tongue, leaving him stumped and not a little panicked.

“You’re happy playing with Hinata-kun!” Bokuto oh-so-helpfully piped with a bright smile. “I get it, man, I felt the same way playing with Keiji! His tosses were always the best!”

“Bokkun, ya wound me so.”

“Aw, that’s not what I meant—”

Bokuto’s interruption was both the best and worst thing that could’ve happened. Kageyama looked like he might pass out from their partnership being loudly compared to what Bokuto had with his husband, and Shoyo, for his part, felt like he would get whiplash from how quickly he looked at the photographers to see if they’d connected any dreaded dots.

To his relief, they looked too busy snapping photos of the entire interaction, with the team lead looking delighted by all the shots of the team’s natural rapport. “I’ve photographed a lot of teams over the past few weeks,” he laughed to their coach, “and these guys are definitely the most close-knit bunch we’ve seen. What’s your secret, Coach?”

“No secret here. Just the team’s history with each other. It’s not often you have an Olympic team that played with and against each other in high school.”

“It definitely makes a difference.”

The photography team lead didn’t make any other comments after that, but for the rest of the practice, Shoyo couldn’t shake the distinct feeling that he was being watched.

***

Shoyo loved the National Team. He really did. If he could tell his high school self that he’d be playing on a team with Ushijima, Bokuto, Hoshiumi, Ojiro, and Atsumu, on top of all the other great players he’d admired, he was sure he would’ve seen his 16-year-old brain implode.

Yes, he loved this team. But sometimes…sometimes they got the worst ideas, and decided to make it the rest of the team’s problem.

Exhibit A: they had just finished their final practice before the few days they got to have as a break before they moved into the Olympic Village and began preparations for the opening ceremony. Instead of going home and getting a good night’s rest to let their bodies recover from practice, they were now sitting in an izakaya sharing enough beers and snacks to send the workers into a bit of a panic.

All thanks to Atsumu and Hoshiumi.

Shoyo wouldn’t have minded—he’d managed to build up a bit more of a tolerance in Rio, though he usually didn’t have more than a beer at a time once he’d joined the V.League. Kageyama, on the other hand…

“Yama, sit up,” Shoyo hissed, trying to fit his hands under Kageyama’s ribs to push him away. It didn’t work: Kageyama lifted an inch or two from Shoyo’s push…and fell right back over his shoulders. It was all Shoyo could do to not tip over from the extra weight.

“Alright there, Hinata?”

Shoyo looked up to see Ojiro watching him from across the table, brows raised over curious gray eyes. “Ah, yeah! I just…always forget what a lightweight Yama is.”

He punctuated his words with a poke at Kageyama’s side. Somehow, that worked to get him to sit up better than his shove. Annoyance pricked at him, but was quickly swept away by fond exasperation when Kageyama jerked upright, frowned into his almost-empty beer mug, and dully mumbled, “...Ow.”

“Hey, man,” Ojiro started, sounding like he was making a valiant attempt to hold back his laughter, “how much have you had to drink?”

Kageyama blinked slowly at Ojiro, visibly processing the question before silently raising three fingers. “M’not drunk,” he managed to mumble, “just…tipsy.”

“Alright, if you’re sure. How much more are you going to drink?”

Kageyama shrugged.

“You get one more beer,” Shoyo answered instead, raising a single, stubborn finger up to Kageyama’s face and grinning when his boyfriend nearly went cross-eyed trying to look at it. “One more! And that’s it!”

“Dumbass, you’re not my mom,” Kageyama grumbled, pushing away his finger with a frown that Shoyo easily recognized as his embarrassed grimace.

Shoyo, for his part, allowed himself to add one more shot to his tally of one beer and two shots. He was good about slowly nursing his beer, but he could never put up a good fight when Bokuto and Atsumu offered him shots of shochu. By the time the team finally cleared out of the izakaya, a flush was warming his face and he was laughing a little louder than usual. Kageyama, on the other hand, had gone basically silent, and was swaying like a tree in a non-existent breeze.

Loud laughter echoed in the night air when Atsumu pulled Shoyo into a hug, covering his quiet, “Sure you’ll be okay getting him back?”

“Yes, Tsumu-san,” Shoyo laughed with a reassuring pat on his back. “This isn’t my first time dealing with him drunk.”

“You’ll have to tell me that story later,” Atsumu chuckled before pulling away. “Be careful, Tobio-kun!” he said, whacking Kageyama on the shoulder and grinning when his fellow setter stumbled from the force. “I’ll never forgive ya if you squish my favorite spiker!”

Kageyama finally looked halfway alert when he frowned at Atsumu and grumbled, “He’s my spiker.” The quiet words were quickly overwhelmed by Bokuto and Hoshiumi’s affronted gasps at Atsumu’s declaration, but Shoyo heard him loud and clear, grinning wide as Kageyama dodged his gaze with scarlet ears.

He waited for the rest of the team to disperse before whispering, “Can you walk?”

“Yeah!” Kageyama answered a little too loudly. “Of course I can!”

They made it all of four blocks before Shoyo threw up his hands. “Alright, that’s it!” He crouched in front of Kageyama. “Climb on.”

He didn’t need to look over his shoulder to know his boyfriend was blinking down at him with a confused frown. “...What?”

“Climb on! I’ll piggyback you home.”

“Dumbass, you can’t carry me!”

“Yes, I can! Come on!”

“I’m gonna squish you!”

“Then squish me! At least we can get home faster!”

“M’not that slow.”

Shoyo scowled at the sidewalk when his back remained weight-free. “What’s wrong, Yama?” he suddenly cooed, inspiration striking just in time. “Scared I’ll carry you further than you can carry me?”

“M’not scared!”

“Then prove it!”

For a moment, all he heard was inscrutable mumbling. Then, all at once, the weight of a soon-to-be two-time Olympic athlete fell onto his back. Compared to his slouchy weight in the izakaya, Kageyama now felt like the weight of the world falling onto Atlas’s shoulders. Or, well, Shoyo’s.

“Woah, Tobi, the hell!”

“What?! You said get on!”

“Yeah, like a human, not like a sack of rice! Nearly broke my knees.”

“Whiny dumbass.” The mutter accompanied a shifting of Kageyama’s weight on his back, and Shoyo quickly tightened his hold around his thighs before he could try to stand back up. “Lemme go.”

“Nope!” With that, Shoyo began the slow, painstaking process of getting to his feet under more than twice his usual weight. “Why’re you so heavy?!”

“Lemme go or quit whining.”

“I can carry you and whine at the same time, Drunk-yama,” Shoyo snorted. Naturally, out of everything that night, bickering was when Kageyama sounded more sober than he had all evening. “Just don’t puke on me.”

“That’s a good idea.”

“Tobio!”

Unflattering snorts practically echoed in Shoyo’s left ear as a chin hooked over his shoulder. He didn’t flinch, not wanting to make Kageyama straighten up. Despite his aching body, he couldn’t help smiling at the brush of Kageyama’s nose at his cheek and his breaths ruffling his hair.

Somehow, through a sheer stubborn need to prove himself and the soft love spreading through him at Kageyama’s sleepy, drunken, snuffling breaths, Shoyo managed to reach the front stairs to their apartment building. He stared at the four measly steps up, felt the burning shake of his legs, and grunted, “Yama, get down.”

Nothing.

“Tobio!” Shoyo gathered every last bit of his strength to bounce the setter. “On your feet, c’mon!”

He heard a snort, a confused grumble, then, blessedly, all that Olympic weight slid off his back. His legs shuddered beneath him, longing to give out and let him crumple to the ground, but first: “Alright, let’s go inside.”

“No.”

Shoyo’s step forward was cut short by Kageyama tugging back on his hand. “What do you mean, no?”

“Kiss me first.”

Shoyo turned and gaped at his boyfriend, who frowned at him with a furrow to his brow that would have been frightening to anyone else, but that Shoyo recognized as being the equivalent to a childish pout. “Why?! We’re still outside!”

“Don’t care.” Kageyama took one unsteady step forward and rested his forehead on Shoyo’s. “R’you…mad at me? F’r getting drunk?”

“What? No! When have I gotten mad at you for something like that?”

“Then kiss me.”

“Tobiiiiii. What if someone sees us?”

“Say it’s my fault. M’drunk.”

“Yeah, no kidding.”

Kageyama just grunted and nudged his nose against Shoyo’s. The pressure was just ticklish enough to make Shoyo break into a soft giggle. “If I kiss you, will you go inside?”

“Mm.”

“Promise?”

“Yeah.”

“Fine. Kiss me.”

There was a beat, then Kageyama pulled away to pin Shoyo under a confused pout. “Wha?”

“I already hauled your drunk ass home! You gotta at least work for the kiss!”

Those sweet pink lips twisted, but Kageyama couldn’t argue. So he cupped Shoyo’s face in big, clumsy hands, and haphazardly teetered forward until their lips bumped each other. It reminded Shoyo of their first awkward, mismatched kiss, and when he helped fit their lips together, his were stretched into a grin.

“Quit smiling,” Kageyama mumbled into the kiss.

“I can’t! You’re too cute!”

Kageyama grumbled, but he didn’t nip at Shoyo’s lips nor try to kiss him again. He just let his head fall forward onto Shoyo’s shoulder. “Dumbass.”

“Uh-huh. Dumbass that got you home! C’mon.” Shoyo manhandled Kageyama’s arm around his shoulders and began leading him inside.

“Sho.”

“What?” Shoyo didn’t bother holding back his laughter. It wasn’t like Kageyama would remember it enough to be upset by it.

“Shtop…stop laughiiiiing.” Kageyama somehow slumped even more onto Shoyo’s shoulders. Shoyo was strong, of course he was, he couldn’t be a professional athlete if he wasn’t. But even he had his limits, and walking while carrying most of the weight of his co-athlete, very drunk, very off-balance boyfriend was threatening to step over that line.

“God, I love you so much, you lightweight idiot,” Shoyo sighed. “Are you sure you only had beer? Did Atsumu-san sneak you a shot?”

“No! No liquor! Only beer!”

“You’re like this after four beers? How did you survive Italy?!”

“They’re not…alcolics…like”—he stumbled over the edge of the elevator, and Shoyo barely managed to keep him on his feet—“like bajilics.”

“Like what?”

“Bajilics,” Kageyama repeated, sounding more certain and like he thought Shoyo was an idiot for not understanding.

“...Oh my god, do you mean Brazilians?”

“S’what I said.”

“Of course, so sorry.”

Kageyama grunted, lapsing into silence as he squished his cheek against Shoyo’s hair. “...Sho.”

This time Shoyo took care to choke back his laugh. Somehow, in the space between the izakaya and their building, the last bit of alcohol had been soaked up by Kageyama’s body and made him cross the line between sleepy silence and drunken chatter. He was only ever like this when drunk and alone with Shoyo, which wasn’t often. Truthfully, Shoyo still wasn’t used to it. “Yes, Yama?”

“I think…I drank too much.”

“Really?” Shoyo gasped. “Where’d you get an idea like that?”

He swore he could feel Kageyama’s frown pressed to his hair. “Shut up.” There was a deep sigh, a beat of silence, and then a mumbled, “Smell good.”

“What does?”

“You, dumbass.”

His cheeks grew warm. “Trying to seduce me, Tobi?”

“No,” Kageyama snorted. “If I wanted to seduce you, I’d just suck your—”

Ding!

The elevator chimed just as Shoyo slapped a hand over Kageyama’s mouth. “God, Yama, public!!”

He could feel Kageyama smile against his palm. It was the only warning he got before he was jerking his hand back from a wide lick. “Gross!”

“Gotcha,” Kageyama mumbled, immediately falling back over Shoyo’s shoulders. “M’tired.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get you home.”

In hindsight, Shoyo wasn’t sure how he did it. He got Kageyama home, managed to get him to wash up as well as he could and have a bite to eat with a glass of water, then got him tucked into bed. It was hard, and annoying, and more than once Shoyo wanted to squish his cheeks until some sense was forced back into his head.

But then he looked down at Kageyama, at his sleepy blue eyes peering over his covers, and he thought his heart might burst from all the love pressing at its walls. “Good night, Tobio,” he murmured, dipping down to press a kiss to his forehead. “I’ll check on you tomorrow, ‘kay?”

He straightened up, ready to leave for his own apartment…only to be brought up short by strong fingers in his sleeve. “Stay.” The word was muffled, filtering through the thick covers obscuring Kageyama’s face.

“Tobio?”

“Stay with me. Then you…c’n check easier.”

Yeah, Shoyo’s heart was definitely going to burst by morning. “Uwah,” he gushed, letting a smitten smile pull at his lips. “You get really smart when you’re drunk!”

The fingers in his hoodie slipped away to the sound of a halfhearted growl. “Never mind. Go away.”

“Nope!”

Shoyo washed up and crawled into bed in record time, but he still couldn’t make it before Kageyama had dozed off. “You okay, Tobi?” he whispered, just in case.

“Mm.” Kageyama turned towards him and burrowed into his chest, silky black strands tickling at his chin. Strong arms wrapped tight around him, essentially locking Shoyo into bed.

“Good night,” he murmured again, laughter coloring his words.

“Mmf.”

“Love you, Tobi.”

He didn’t get an answer. But he did hear a content sigh, then the softest, snuffling little snores he ever did hear. When he fell asleep, it was with his nose buried into Kageyama’s hair and his arms holding him close like a teddy bear, the warmest, strongest, snuggliest teddy bear in the world.

And all his. Just his.

***

Shoyo was already used to being the first one up when they were both sober, so he wasn’t surprised to wake up and find Kageyama still asleep with a furrow in his brow the next morning. He was surprised to still be wrapped so tightly in his arms—usually they drifted apart at some point in the night, keeping at least a hand or arm on top of each other like an anchor. He wasn’t sure how to untangle himself without waking Kageyama up.

So, he didn’t.

“Yama,” he whispered.

“Mm.”

“Tobioooooo.”

“Mmfwhat?”

“Wake up.”

To his surprise, Kageyama actually obeyed, extracting his face from Shoyo’s chest and slowly blinking his eyes open…and immediately burrowing back in with a groan. “Too bright.”

“It’s not too bright,” Shoyo laughed. “You’re just hungover.”

“‘N you’re too loud.”

“Sorryyyy.” Shoyo lowered his voice to an exaggerated whisper. “Is this better?”

“You’re teasing me.”

“Am I?”

Kageyama pulled away again, this time to narrow his eyes at Shoyo. “...Dumbass.”

“Be nice to me, or I won’t make breakfast.”

Kageyama groaned and rolled away, stuffing his face into his pillow. “Don’t wanna eat. What if I throw it up?”

“I’ll bring you some water, Your Highness, then you should be okay to eat,” Shoyo snorted as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

A foot suddenly planted itself in the small of his back and pushed him off the bed with a firm shove, forcing him to stumble to his feet. “Hey!”

“Go make breakfast.”

“Jerk,” Shoyo muttered under his breath. He pulled his phone from its charger and shuffled to the kitchen, putting the kettle on to boil while he checked his notifications.

That’s when he saw it.

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 hey man, bokkun and i kinda…followed u n tobio last night just to make sure u were actually okay to carry him! and…we saw this [photo attached]

Shoyo’s stomach dropped to his feet when he opened the image and squinted at it. It was blurry and taken from a distance with terrible zoom, but there was no mistaking his orange hair, and that was their apartment building, and he was definitely kissing a tall figure with dark hair and a black Olympics hoodie. “...Shit.”

They knew. Atsumu and Bokuto knew. They followed them last night and watched Shoyo kiss Kageyama to coax him over the threshold. The one time, the one time he indulged the chance to kiss in public, and this happened.

His fingers tightened around his phone. He nursed the irrational desire to squeeze it until it broke, but he didn’t have the money for a new phone. Besides, there were more texts from Atsumu to read.

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 we’re not gonna tell any1 ofc and i deleted the photo after sending it to u just wanted to let u what we saw since u 2 probs wanted to keep ur rs a secret idk y tho the team would understand bokkun already cant shut up bout akaashi-san

Shoyo’s stomach slowly rose back to its rightful place, only to curdle with guilt. The messages had Atsumu’s patent sense of showy apathy, but Shoyo knew him too well. He could read the hurt he felt over not being trusted.

Because he was right, at least a little. The team would understand. Never mind Bokuto and Akaashi’s marriage. Most of the team had known each other for years, down to each other’s sexualities and dating histories. They already knew Shoyo was bi and Kageyama was gay. Their relationship would barely clock as a surprise to any of them.

But telling a whole team, even a team they knew so well, felt so…public. So real. So close to being revealed to the whole world, especially considering they were an Olympic team. Keeping their relationship under wraps from the team had just been a habit to Shoyo and Kageyama. They had kept this secret for long enough that being up front about it never even occurred to either of them.

Now the consequences of that unspoken decision was glaring up at Shoyo from his phone.

What should he say? What could he say? Any apologies felt hollow, and as guilty as Shoyo felt for making Atsumu feel untrusted, he didn’t think of the reason as a mistake that needed complete rectification.

He stared at the messages and the photo for another few breaths before finally bringing his fingers to the screen.

From: me morning Atsumu-san! ah…I didn’t realize anyone was following us 😅 thanks for letting me know and for not sharing the photo with the rest of the team I promise keeping our relationship a secret from the team wasn’t anything personal! just...force of habit really I’m okay with you and Bokuto-san knowing and I’ll let Tobio know what happened but could you guys not tell anyone else? at least not yet?

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 hey dude, no worries, i get it but uh about not telling the rest of the team have u opened twitter today?

From: me ? no why?

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 remember those publicity photos from practice a few weeks back? they got published today and the photos of u and tobio r REAL popular rn

At any other time, that would have been good news, if only because Shoyo could enjoy Kageyama’s pleased embarrassment over so many people seeing his photos. But just then, in the context of the already-scary conversation he was having with Atsumu, Shoyo could only feel a heavy dread settle on his shoulders.

He closed out of his messages and opened Twitter. He didn’t even need to scroll. There, at the top of his timeline, was a tweet with photos of the volleyball team from the Olympic account, as well as a thread of individual photos from the JVA account. The photos of the full team made a tiny smile rise to Shoyo’s lips despite everything: out of the four in the post, two were of the team in action, and two featured them bantering during a break. Shoyo’s favorite showed him and Kageyama standing next to the bench, fresh off the court and chatting with Hoshiumi, Ushijima, and Bokuto, all of whom were seated and relaxed. Even Ushijima had a slight curve to his lips and a glint in his olive eyes.

Shoyo couldn’t linger too long on the Olympic tweet. Whatever Atsumu was referring to must have been in the individual shots from the JVA. So Shoyo scrolled through the thread, occasionally pausing to appreciate a good action shot, before he finally reached the tweet with Kageyama’s solo photos.

They weren’t all solo photos. In fact, two of them also featured Shoyo, which should have been the first sign of danger. In one of the actual solo photos, Kageyama was pulling his collar to his chin, revealing a hint of his chiseled, sweaty abs, and in the other, he was throwing the ball up to serve.

Then Shoyo swiped to the third photo. In it, he was soaring through the air, and Kageyama was floating next to him, tossing the ball into a perfect arc, right to Shoyo’s hand. He could practically feel the ghost of the ball hitting his palm to slam into the court. The fourth photo showed him jumping again, this time to slap a high five to Kageyama’s offered hands.

The tweet with his own individual photos were fairly similar: a resting shot, a solo action shot, an action shot with Kageyama, and a resting shot with Kageyama.

Sure, it might have been strange for them to be the only ones to share photos in the thread, but the world already knew them as the “freak duo.” It shouldn’t be surprising to see them featured together.

From: me idgi what’s wrong w the photos?

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 zoom in on them

Frowning, Shoyo obeyed, first zooming in on Kageyama’s solo shots. For a moment, he was distracted by the detailed close-up of his boyfriend’s perfect physique, as though he didn’t already get to enjoy it up close and personal every night.

Then he saw them.

There, just above Kageyama’s waistband, were two, barely-there bruises. Bruises that Shoyo knew were his fault.

Once he saw the first ones, he saw them everywhere. Kageyama sported bruises on above his waistband, along his collarbones, over his pulse point, and, most incriminating of all, between his thighs, right where Shoyo’s hips hit when he fucked Kageyama hard and ruthless.

Shit.

Shit.

Bruises were common in volleyball. Hell, they were common in any sport, but especially in volleyball, where collisions with fast-moving balls and hard gym floors were the name of the game. But those bruises were on knees and elbows, maybe the insides of forearms or outsides of thighs. They weren’t in the most intimate places on a person, places where the only marks that could be found there were almost always made on purpose.

The bruises on Kageyama could not have been more clearly from sex. No wonder people were talking about his photos—who wouldn’t be tantalized by a glimpse at a sexy setter’s intimate life?

The bruises were a little risque, sure, but no cause for scandal. No, the problems came with the photos of Shoyo, and his bruises. Because he had them. A lot of them. They marred his arms, his throat, his thighs, and if he really squinted, he could just the slightest glimpse of the red scratches Kageyama had left on his back peeking above the collar of his jersey.

From: me oh shoot do u really think ppl will think we gave those to each other? we’re all adults! we do adult things!!

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 sho-kun buddy do u think tobio of all ppl usually gets marks like that?

From: me he better not!! >:(

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 …wrong q thats on me look tobio and i were on the vleague a few years longer than u ive had my fair share of scandals bc of marks being visible hickeys n stuff we all do even bokkun from akaashi-san but still but tobio didnt he never had a single scandal for dating or sex or anything then u joined the vleague and whaddaya know ushiwaka-kun texted omi bc he was worried about tobio being more bruised up than usual

From: me oh my god I'm so sorry!!

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 dont apologize i thought it was hilarious thats not the point the point is that you also had marks but somehow none of us really connected the dots until jnt practices started and wouldja look at that you *both* were looking like old apples w all them bruises tbh i suspected something a while ago but i didn’t want to make you uncomfortable then last night happened and…yeah

From: me …yeah shit Atsumu-san what do we do??

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 well 1st dont panic besides the team i dont think any1 noticed anything yeah the fans are losing their minds but thats just them being horny i dont think any1 will suspect u gave those 2 each other at least not 4 a while but i think coach will want u guys to figure out what 2 do if or when ppl get suspicious so just…brace urself ig we’re on ur side either way! 😤

From: me ok ok thanks Atsumu-san srsly this means a lot

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 ofc man lemme know if i can do anything else k?

From: me I will thank you! I’m gonna wake up Tobi and let him know what happened we’ll see you at practice!

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 tobi? tobi??

From: me …um don’t tell him I told you that

From: Atsumu-san!🏐🐺 nope too late u owe me this see u l8r

Despite the panic swirling through him, Shoyo couldn’t help scoffing a little at Atsumu’s messages. Sometimes, the setter still texted like he was using a number pad and not a proper keyboard. Dork.

His smile slid off his face when he opened the pictures once again. The photos that had been a sweet tribute to his partnership on the court with Kageyama now looked like terrible evidence, a perfect chance to compare their bruises and see where they could potentially fit together like puzzle pieces.

Shoyo wasn’t ashamed of his relationship with Kageyama. Quite the opposite, really: he wanted to shout and brag about their love from every rooftop of every building in Tokyo. But it was because they loved each other so much that they kept a tight lid on things. What they had was too precious, too hard-earned, to let others cast judgment on it. They already had enough of that from every other aspect of their careers and public lives.

Now, though…if they didn’t have a choice…then Shoyo would much rather reveal everything on their own terms. But that wasn’t a choice he could make on his own.

The kettle suddenly began whistling, jolting Shoyo out of his thoughts and forcing him to hurry and remove it from the stove. The damage was done—his ears were ringing from the noise, which meant he’d be getting a very grumpy companion, any moment now.

“Sho, what the hell?”

He flinched and turned to offer a grimace to Kageyama, who stood shirtless, rumpled, and adorably bleary-eyed at the entrance to the kitchen. “Sorry, I just…was distracted.”

“By what?” Kageyama was still grumpy, but when Shoyo turned towards the counter to begin making some tea, he was immediately surrounded by warm arms, with a sharp chin nestling into his shoulder.

“Um…” To his horror, Shoyo’s voice caught in his throat and his eyes burned with tears. Having Kageyama with him, a tangible reminder of what was at stake, made the threat of…of everything finally sink in.

“Sho?”

“I’m okay, just…” With their tea ready to steep, he turned in Kageyama’s arms and held him around the waist, burrowing his face into his chest. “We…we need to talk.”

“About what?”

Shoyo’s throat ached more from the wary tone of Kageyama’s words. “Something…something happened.”

***

They arrived at practice early, and their coach took all of one look at them before sighing with a small, sad, understanding smile. “So…you guys know.”

“Yeah,” Shoyo murmured, squeezing at Kageyama’s trembling fingers. “We know.”

“Well, then…you two aren’t opposed to staying after practice to meet with the PR manager, are you?”

“No, sir.”

“Good. Then go ahead and warm up.”

Practice was awkward. Not because of their playing—they were both determined to not let this mess affect anything on the court—but because of the worry emanating from all of their teammates, even Ushijima. Every time Shoyo was off of the court, whoever was with him murmured a check in of some sort.

“Are you guys okay?”

“What’s going on?”

“We’re here for you, man.”

It was sweet. A relief, really.

It also made Shoyo want to crawl out of his skin.

For the first time in his life, he was relieved when practice ended, because it meant that he could escape the stifling concern of the team and finally do something. Kageyama, on the other hand…

“Hey.” Shoyo grabbed his hand, a small part of him thrilled at being able to do so without looking around. “Breathe.”

Kageyama obeyed, and thankfully looked a little less green. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, stupid,” Shoyo laughed softly. “I’m scared, too.”

“Yeah, but…you’re supposed to be the anxious one.”

“Hey!” A small smile nudged at Kageyama’s lips and made some relief wash over Shoyo, even as he frowned up at him. “Doesn’t feel so nice, does it?”

“I’ve literally never said it does, the hell?”

“Yeah, but you used to get all annoyed about it!”

“In first year! That was almost ten years ago, are you kidding me?”

Shoyo stuck his tongue out, only to squawk when Kageyama pinched his nose. “Ow, Yama!”

“That’s what you get, dumb—”

“Um.” They froze mid-scuffle, and looked towards the locker room entrance to see their coach staring at them with a bemused grin. “Sorry to interrupt, but…shall we get this meeting started?”

Their hands fell away from each other as they both offered sheepish bows. “Yes, sir. Sorry, sir.”

The crux of the issue, they were told, was the opening ceremonies looming in the very near future. It would be one thing if the threat of their relationship being revealed could be mostly contained within Japan. But with the Olympics happening in a matter of days, any big news about any member of any Olympic team would inevitably be reported on an international level.

“I don’t tell you this to try to encourage you one way or another in how you want to deal with this,” the team’s PR manager assured them. “But it is something important to keep in mind. Do you understand?”

Both men nodded.

“Good. Well then…now that you have some options…how would you like to move forward with this?”

Shoyo chewed at his lips, eyes flickering from the PR manager, to their coach, to Kageyama at his side. Their gazes met, and Kageyama silently reached towards Shoyo’s lap and took one of his hands with a squeeze. That decided it.

“Don’t…confirm or deny anything. Not yet. We…we have an idea.”

“An idea?” Eyebrows raised. “Can we…know this idea?”

They could. So the couple told them.

Their coach let out a low whistle. “That…is a hell of a risk.”

“Yes,” Kageyama answered simply. “We know, sir.”

“You two are certain about this?”

“We’re certain about each other.” Kageyama’s fingers tightened around Shoyo’s. “So yes. We’re certain about this.”

Shoyo still couldn’t believe how much love could fit in his heart for the man at his side. He dragged his eyes away from him to look at their coach, whose brows were creased in fond exasperation, and the team PR manager, who looked five seconds away from happy tears.

“Alright,” their PR manager sighed. “Well…I guess I’ll see you all at the Olympics, then.”

“Enjoy these last few days of peace, you two,” their coach said with a soft chuckle. “I get the feeling you won’t be having any peace for a while after the games.”

Uneasiness churned in Shoyo’s stomach. “Thank you, sir…you, too.”

“Oh, one last thing.” The couple paused in getting to their feet. “Tell the rest of the team before you see this plan through, alright? This won’t just be affecting you two.”

It was obvious, even something that they had discussed before. But hearing it from an outside party made the reality of it crash into Shoyo, and his quickening breaths reduced him to silence as he stared at their coach and PR manager.

“Yes, sir,” he distantly heard Kageyama answer. “We’ve already started. Have a good weekend.”

Shoyo let himself be tugged out of the gym and onto the sidewalk, where Kageyama grabbed his shoulders to spin him towards him. “Hey. What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Shoyo tried to say, wincing when his words came out breathlessly. “I just…it’s a big change. And…the others…we…”

Complete sentences were beyond him, but the solemnity of Kageyama's handsome features told him he understood. “We don’t have to do this,” he murmured, sliding his hands down from Shoyo’s shoulders to squeeze his arms. “We can…we can deny everything, say something about how our competition just…riles us up, and that’s why we have more hookups after our games together. They’ve been reporting on our competitiveness with each other for years, it wouldn’t be that unbelievable.”

He was right. Shoyo knew he was right. But hiding their relationship was one thing. The thought of actively denying it made bile rise in his throat. He couldn’t do that, wouldn’t do that, and the tension around Kageyama’s eyes told him that his partner also hated the idea. “No,” he said firmly. “It’s like you said: we’re certain about each other. The attention will suck for a little bit, but you’re worth it, Tobi. I’m not going to lie about how much I love you.”

From his first “no,” the tension around Kageyama’s eyes melted into a bittersweet mix of nerves, relief, and certainty. “I’m going to kiss the hell out of you when we get home.”

“Just kiss?”

Shoyo’s sweet smile broke into a surprised yelp when Kageyama pinched his nose. “Don’t be greedy. C’mon, let’s go home.”

***

The Olympics Opening Ceremony and the days leading up to it were everything Shoyo could have dreamed and more. They were a whirlwind of settling into their dorms in the Olympic village, some practices on the Olympic courts, milling around and meeting fellow Olympians from around the world and every sport, all culminating in the Parade of Nations.

“Tobio,” he whispered when Japan wrapped up the parade and took their places on the stadium floor.

“Yeah?”

“We did it. We’re on the world stage.” He looked up at his partner in volleyball, in love, in life, and smiled through his tears. It didn’t matter that Kageyama had already done this once before—this was the first time they were here together, and Shoyo felt like he could float away on the bubble of sheer joy at finally fulfilling the vow he’d made as a small, scrappy, stubborn 16-year-old.

He could see the same realization and joy in Kageyama’s shining eyes, before he was being pulled into a tight embrace. It was safe, something that could look like a happy, platonic hug between teammates, but Shoyo knew better. He shuddered when he felt lips brush his ear and whisper, “I’m so fucking proud of you. You have no idea how much better this feels with you here.”

“Show-off,” Shoyo laughed, burying his face into Kageyama’s shoulder. “...Me, too. I’m proud of us.”

Everything in him screamed to forget the plan and kiss Kageyama right there. It was a miracle that he managed to contain himself until the door to their shared dorm room closed behind them, mere seconds before he pressed Kageyama to it and finally, finally pressed their lips together. “Hey, Yama,” he whispered between smacking kisses.

“Don’t. I already know what you’re going to say.”

“Wanna see if these beds are really sex-proof?”

“What did I just say?” Kageyama pushed him away, letting Shoyo get a good look at his exasperated frown and soft eyes. “Our first match is tomorrow, we can’t be sore from fucking.”

“Geez, I thought we could be more romantic,” Shoyo sniffed. “You won’t be sore from love-making.”

“Who said I’ll be the sore one?”

Anticipation zipped up Shoyo’s spine and had him hastily dropping his clothes to the floor as though they weren’t a once-in-a-lifetime Olympics blazer and pants. “Hurry up, then! We gotta get a good night’s sleep!”

“Don’t pretend to be responsible now.” The nag was the last thing Kageyama said before he pushed Shoyo to one of the cardboard beds and crawled between his legs.

Neither of them said much more after that. They were too busy unraveling each other to gasps and moans muffled against sweaty skin.

(Later, when Kageyama’s softening cock slipped out of Shoyo and freed him to slide off of the setter’s hips, the small bedspace still kept him half on top of him, one leg hooked across his cum-splattered abs.

“So? Are you sore?”

“Nope! Wanna change that?”

“Quit fucking around or I won’t toss to you tomorrow.”

“Yama! What kind of partner are you?!”

“A responsible one. Get off me, we need to clean up.”)

***

They lost to Argentina in their first game, a blow that stung less only when Shoyo stumbled across Oikawa sobbing in Iwaizumi’s arms by Team Japan’s locker rooms.

“You did it,” he could just barely hear Iwaizumi murmur.

“I did it,” Oikawa echoed with a tearful laugh. “I beat them, Iwa. I beat all of you.”

“Yeah…I’m proud of you, Shitty-kawa.”

“Oh, come on! I beat your team at the Olympics and you still can’t be nice?!”

“I said I’m proud of you. Take it or leave it.”

It would have sounded like their standard bickering if Shoyo didn’t know both of them well enough to recognize the tender adoration in their voices. When he returned to the locker room, Kageyama pinned him under a suspicious frown. “Why’re you smiling? We lost.”

“I know. So we’ll just have to beat France!”

A quiet laugh rippled through the team, chipping away at the heavy weight of disappointment hanging over them. “Sure, we’ll just go ahead and do that,” Hoshiumi snorted.

“We can!” Shoyo insisted. “Come on, guys, it’s not over yet! We’ve got more volleyball to play! As long as we don’t fall out of the running completely, we’ll keep playing! Isn’t that what matters most?”

“That’s the spirit, Hinata!” Bokuto cheered, slinging a heavy arm over Shoyo’s shoulders. “I’d expect nothing less from my greatest pupil!”

“Bokkun, it’s been almost ten years,” Atsumu groaned with a badly-hidden smirk. “Can you drop the whole ‘teacher-pupil’ thing?”

“Never! The bond between mentor and mentee is unbreakable! Right, Hinata?”

“Right, Bokuto-san!”

“Tobio-kun, are ya gonna let this stand? Bokkun’s takin’ more credit for Shoyo’s growth than you!”

Kageyama blinked, expression bland. “I’m not his teacher. I’m his partner.”

“Jesus, forget I said anythin’.”

“Already done.”

“Omi!”

Just like that, the sullen atmosphere shifted into something a little sweeter, more hopeful, and by the time their match against France rolled around, they were newly determined to settle for nothing less than a total victory. “Are you ready?” Kageyama murmured before they made their entrance to the court. The intensity in his eyes told Shoyo he wasn’t just talking about the match.

Shoyo gently rocked into his side with a smile and a chipper, “Of course! With you, I’m invincible!”

“Invincible,” Kageyama repeated with a smile so slight, Shoyo would have missed it if they didn’t know each other so completely.

***

The ball seemed to move in crystal-clear slow motion, sailing over the net to bounce off of Yaku’s arms in a perfect arc to Kageyama. Around him, Shoyo could see Bokuto, Ojiro, and Hoshiumi run for a synchronized attack, and his legs moved to let him perfectly blend in with his teammates.

He watched the ball meet Kageyama’s fingers just as he poured all the power he had left in him to jump as high as possible. There, at the peak of his jump, the ball appeared before him, and in that perfect split-second of suspension in the air, he found his target on the other side of the net.

His hand hit the ball with a delicious sting, and as he fell to the ground, the ball sped towards France’s libero, only to deflect from his arms and fly out-of-bounds. The wing spikers couldn’t move fast enough—the ball landed, with a thrilling slap against the court floors, just outside of the boundary lines.

Silence reigned over the stadium for a breath, only cracking open with two shrill whistles that sounded like the sweetest sirensong to Shoyo’s ears.

They did it. They won.

Noise exploded through the stadium. Shoyo’s ears rang from the screams and cheers of his teammates, but he didn’t care. It didn’t matter. All that mattered were the blue eyes finding his, and the breathtaking smile spreading below them.

His legs felt like they might give out from under him, but he pushed himself forward, barely aware of the tears falling to his cheeks. He was too focused on taking hold of Kageyama’s cheeks and pulling him down.

Later on, he would remember it all in parts: the sweet taste of Kageyama’s lips parting against his, the familiar comfort of his arms wrapping around his waist, the pressure of his hands pressing against Shoyo’s spine to bring him impossibly closer. Then there were the renewed screams of their teammates, this time in celebration of their announcement.

Because it was an announcement. With that single kiss on the world stage, they were finally breaking open the secrecy of their relationship and proudly baring their hearts to the entire world. Maybe it should’ve been terrifying, but in that moment, Shoyo only felt peace and love and joy, pure, unadulterated joy, overflowing in tears that flowed faster when his ears caught a soft whisper beneath the screams surrounding him.

“I love you.”

***

For the second night in a row, Shoyo and Kageyama entered their dorm room mid-makeout, only closing the door behind them so Shoyo could press Kageyama against it. “Yama,” he breathed, sucking kisses down his neck and soaking in the sounds of his shameless moans. “Tobio, what do you want? Tell me what to do for you.”

“What do you want?”

“Anything you want.”

“Dumbass, that’s not— ah, that’s not an answer— mmh!”

“I asked first.”

Before Kageyama could snap anything back, Shoyo slid his thigh between his legs, pulling the setter’s hips down until he was moaning from the pressure against the tent in his pants. “Fuck, Sho—!”

“Answer me, Tobio.”

Kageyama’s eyes fluttered open, and whatever he saw on Shoyo’s face made him bite his lip with a whimper. “Fuck me,” he gasped when Shoyo pressed his leg up.

“Yeah?” Shoyo murmured, leaning in to ghost their lips together. “Want me to fill you up? Want me to fuck you until you’re begging?”

Challenge glinted in those hazy blue eyes. “Make me,” Kageyama grunted. “Make me beg, Sho.”

“Yes, Your Highness.”

With a growl, Kageyama took his lips in a hungry kiss, rutting against Shoyo’s thigh despite what he’d just asked for. Shoyo could’ve sworn he could feel the heat building between Kageyama’s legs in time with the increasing hardness trapped in his jeans. “Tobio…shit, Tobio…”

Kageyama just hummed into the kisses, whimpering when Shoyo’s hands wandered under his shirt, sliding higher and higher until he could pinch at his nipples. “Let me see,” Shoyo whispered, “c’mon, Tobi, lemme see you.”

Despite his grunt of protest, Kageyama obeyed, nearly tearing fabric in his haste to rip his shirt off and bare his beautiful chest to Shoyo. He wasted no time diving in, sucking a nipple into his mouth to the sweet tune of Kageyama’s keening whines. They had showered before the celebratory team dinner, but the summer heat made sweat sting on Shoyo’s tastebuds, sharpening the delicious taste of Kageyama, Kageyama, nothing but Kageyama.

He wanted to eat him whole, wanted to drag his lips and tongue and teeth across every lightly-tanned inch of his perfect body. But for now, he was satisfied with gripping at Kageyama’s trim waist and stopping him from curving his plush chest away from his lips. He didn’t pull away until he heard his moans pick up in pitch and eventually break into a desperate, “Sho, Sho, m’close, fuck— wait, no—”

Shoyo ignored his pleas, sliding his thigh away and pinning Kageyama’s hips to the door. “Not yet, baby,” he whispered, pressing a sweet kiss to his gasping lips. “Wait for me, hm?”

He didn’t let go of Kageyama’s hips until they stopped twitching forward in search of more friction. Only then did Kageyama wilt in his hands, letting his forehead rest against Shoyo’s as he nodded. “Okay?” Shoyo asked.

“I won’t be if you don’t hurry up.”

Shoyo snickered, unabashed under Kageyama’s pout. “That’s a yes. C’mon, get naked and show me how you want me to fuck you.”

He could feel a shudder run through Kageyama’s body before he was being pushed away. He obeyed the gentle nudge, letting his hands fall away from Kageyama and watching shamelessly as he shoved his pants and socks off and climbed onto his bed. Arousal made his breath stop when Kageyama held himself up on his hands and knees and looked over his shoulder with an impatient frown. “Why’re you still not naked?”

“God, you’re hot,” Shoyo huffed, stripping himself and grabbing a condom and some lube. “Why’re you so hot when you’re bossy?”

“I’m not bossy,” Kageyama grunted, failing to look away before Shoyo caught a glimpse of his flushed cheeks. “And I dunno why you think weird things are hot.”

“Calling yourself weird, Yama?”

“No. I’m calling you weird.”

Shoyo snickered as he joined Kageyama on the bed, letting his cock nudge against the perfect swell of his ass. “Yeah, and you’re into me,” he murmured, brushing a kiss to his spine and relishing the soft whimper he earned. “So what’s that make you?”

“An idiot. Hurry up.”

“Aw, does it hurt?” Shoyo cooed in false sympathy. He slicked up one hand, but instead of tracing circles around Kageyama’s puckered hole, he reached around and took hold of his straining cock.

“Fuck!” Kageyama cried, head lolling between his shaking arms. “Sho, please—”

“Begging already? That’s not good.”

“Shut up, I’m— hah, I’m gonna— no, come on—!”

“Not yet,” Shoyo insisted, letting go just as he felt Kageyama’s cock harden that last tell-tale bit. “Shhh, Tobi, the others will hear you whining for me.”

“Fuck you,” Kageyama bit out.

“Nah, not tonight.” Shoyo snickered as he dodged the half-hearted swat Kageyama barely managed before he had to support himself on both hands again. “Okay, okay, here.” He slid his slippery hand between Kageyama’s legs, letting his slick touch trail along the curve of his tight balls and through the hot, tight space up to his puckered rim. Kageyama tensed beneath him as soon as he began drawing cold circles over his hole, and Shoyo brushed a kiss under his ear before slowly pressing in. “Relax, Tobi,” he whispered, grinning when he felt him obey. “Good boy.”

Kageyama just whimpered wordlessly, trembling when Shoyo’s finger slid home. “Is this good?” Shoyo asked quietly.

“Mm…yeah,” Kageyama groaned, slowly rocking his hips into the slight intrusion. “Yeah,” he repeated with a pleased sigh, “yeah, gimme more.”

“Yessir.” With that purr, Shoyo carefully slid out his finger to the last digit, before sliding it back in with a second finger. He pressed kisses along Kageyama’s shoulders and the back of his neck as he carefully stretched him out, following the sound of his gasps and moans. Yes, he knew exactly how Kageyama liked to be stretched out, but that didn’t mean he stopped relishing the way his name sounded when he finally curved three fingers into his prostate. “Sho—!”

“Good?”

“Yeah, yeah, fuck, it’s good!”

“Good.” He was more urgent than usual as he worked his fingers in and out and spread them wide, his own arousal burning through him at the sight of Kageyama trying to fuck himself on his fingers. “Shit, Tobio, I thought you wanted to come on my cock, not my fingers.”

“I do, hurry up!”

“Ask me nicely,” Shoyo huffed, as though he weren’t already slipping his fingers out and sliding the condom down his aching dick.

“Fuck me, Sho, c’mon, fill me up.”

Oh…that wasn’t quite what Shoyo had in mind, but damn, if he didn’t care.

He slid home to the sweet harmony of them moaning together. He tried, truly tried to hold still and let Kageyama adjust, but he couldn’t stop his hips from twitching forward, trying to reach even deeper. “Sho—”

“I know, sorry, I can’t— fuck, you’re tight,” Shoyo groaned. His fingers pressed at Kageyama’s hips, tight enough that he knew they would leave bruises. But Kageyama didn’t complain, too focused on relaxing around Shoyo’s hard length reaching deep inside him.

“Move.”

Shoyo was pulling out before the word finished leaving Kageyama’s lips, thrusting back in and setting a desperate pace. This wasn’t what he’d planned, didn’t match the image he’d had of a slow, drawn-out fuck, leaving Kageyama panting and begging under him. But Shoyo couldn’t help himself. After everything they’d been through that day—a loss, a win, revealing their relationship to the world and navigating the resulting rush of last-minute interviews, and celebrating both their win and their reveal with the team at dinner—all Shoyo wanted was to lose himself in the sublime, tight heat of the love of his life.

“Ah! Right there, fuck—!”

“Yeah, I’ve got you,” Shoyo panted, keeping up the perfect angle as he kept plowing forward. “You feel so good, Tobio, you’re always so good for me.”

“For you,” Kageyama breathlessly echoed, his words melting into soft, whining moans that left his lips with every thrust.

“Good boy.” Kageyama’s next whine was almost a wail, and he fell to his elbows, sweaty bangs brushing the plain covers and cock drooling beneath him. “That’s right,” Shoyo hissed, pressing his hips to Kageyama’s and grinding in as deep as he could, “you’re my good boy, aren’t you?”

It was still incredible to Shoyo, the way the pet name so thoroughly unwound Kageyama. He went wordless, reduced to whines and clumsy attempts to fuck himself on Shoyo’s dick. “Shhhh, easy does it.”

“No,” Kageyama mumbled into the sheets, “more, need more, m’close.”

“What do you need, Tobi?” Shoyo already knew what he needed, but it was always heady to hear Kageyama stumble over his words when he was usually so taciturn.

“Touch me, fuck me, c’mon—!” This time, he really did wail when Shoyo took hold of his cock. He couldn’t seem to decide between fucking back on him or thrusting into his hand, leaving him shuddering with twitching hips. “Yes, yes, yes—”

“Are you close? Gonna come for me?”

“Please, Sho, please—”

“I’ve got you. C’mon baby, come for me, you’re so close.”

“Close, close— nngh, Sho!” Kageyama pressed his face to the bed to muffle his shout when he finally broke, spilling onto the bed sheets and rocking against Shoyo. He tightened impossibly more around him, trapping Shoyo and leaving him only able to grind in until he followed him over the edge with a drawn-out groan.

Neither of them could say anything, their lips only parting around gasps for air and a last few shuddering moans from the aftershocks. Shoyo could only form words when Kageyama nearly collapsed into his own mess on the bed. “Woah, careful—” He just barely caught him by the hips and tipped him to the side, earning a soft grunt of thanks. “You okay, Tobio?”

“Mm…yeah, just…god, Sho.”

Shoyo could only laugh bashfully, tilting forward to kiss Kageyama’s hip before slowly standing on his own shaking legs. “I’ll clean us up, and then we can move to my bed, okay?” Kageyama just nodded into the sheets, but that was good enough for Shoyo.

They moved predictably slowly as Shoyo cleaned them both up, then urged Kageyama to help him strip the dirty covers from his bed and climb into Shoyo’s bed. “You sure you’re okay?”

“Yes, dumbass, I’m fine.”

“Are you gonna be sore tomorrow?”

Kageyama frowned as he gave a tentative stretch of his hip. “...I don’t think so. Nothing that’ll impede my playing.”

“Okay.” Shoyo finally let himself fully collapse into bed, fitting himself against Kageyama’s side like a puzzle piece. Kageyama shifted around until his head fit under Shoyo’s chin and he could nestle into Shoyo’s chest, letting him stroke his fingers through dark hair.

They laid there in silence, curled together so closely, Shoyo wasn’t sure where he ended and Kageyama began. He didn’t mind the quiet, never did when he was with Kageyama. But just as his eyes began drifting closed, he heard, “We kissed at the Olympics.”

“Hm?” Shoyo grunted, jolting awake. “Oh, yeah. Yeah! Just like we planned!”

“So the whole world knows about us.”

Apprehension pricked at Shoyo. Kageyama’s voice was flat, matter of fact, with an undertone of nerves that Shoyo couldn’t parse out. “Yeah, but…we planned for that. And that’s what we wanted, right?”

“Right, just…”

Why did he sound so nervous? What was Kageyama thinking about? Shoyo looked down at his smooth black hair and joked, “You’re not breaking up with me, are you?”

Well…he meant it as a joke, but he could hear the tension in his voice, which meant Kageyama would hear it, too.

Sure enough, Kageyama pulled away to frown at him. “No, dumbass! I’m just thinking…”

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Fuck off.” The phrase was flippant, with no heat or bite behind it. Shoyo pressed his lips thin to hold back his snort of laughter and waited for Kageyama to go on. “I was thinking,” he continued with a roll of his eyes, before he settled back down against Shoyo, “the world knows. The whole world knows that…that we’re together. That we love each other.”

“Yeah…?”

“And that we’re serious about each other.”

“Right…”

Calloused fingertips began drawing patterns across Shoyo’s chest. Despite the worry swelling in him, he still felt a jolt of fondness at the nervous habit. It had been a while since Kageyama last doodled on him like that. “Like…serious enough to be together for our whole lives?”

“Yeah!” Shoyo scoffed, indignant at the mere thought of the alternative. “You’re stuck with me, Tobi!”

He heard a soft snort, then silence for a beat, before, “Then…should we make it official?”

“I thought we just did that?”

“Dumbass, I meant…legally.”

There was heavy intent behind Kageyama’s words, but Shoyo couldn’t fathom what he was trying to imply. “Legally? What do you mean?”

“I mean marriage,” Kageyama scoffed, before raising himself to look Shoyo in the eye. “Marry me, dumbass.”

Oh. Oh. Oh, Shoyo loved him so much. He had never felt so certain about an answer in his whole life. But first: “Wow. That might be the least romantic proposal I’ve ever heard.”

“Hah?! Who else proposed to you?!”

“No one, stupid!” Shoyo said with a light flick at Kageyama’s forehead. “But I’ve heard other couples’ proposals, and they were way nicer than that!”

The nerves lining Kageyama’s eyes stiffened into annoyance. “So what, you’re not gonna marry me because I didn’t propose right?”

“What? I didn’t even answer!”

“Then answer, dumbass!”

“Yes, dummy! Of course I’ll marry you!”

Somewhere along the way, Shoyo’s voice began shaking with gleeful laughter, and soon Kageyama was laughing with him, and they laid there, laughing and laughing, and Shoyo had the idle thought that if someone could die from too much happiness, he would have perished a thousand times over by now.

Their laughter faded away, leaving Kageyama gazing down at Shoyo with the soft look of adoration that never failed to make love spread warm through him like a hot cup of tea. “You’re my future, Tobio,” he murmured, bringing his hands to Kageyama’s cheeks and stroking over their curves with gentle thumbs. “I’m never gonna stop running forward. I don’t care if I’m chasing you, or you’re chasing me, or we’re running together. I just…I want to do it with you. Forever.”

“Good.” Kageyama pushed himself up properly and fit himself between Shoyo’s legs. “Because I’m going to love you forever, Hinata Shoyo.”

Shoyo knew everything was going to continue changing now that their relationship was public, and that those changes were going to be daunting, no matter if they were good or bad.

But as he gazed up at Kageyama, at this man who had so inextricably woven himself into his heart, he knew, with a rare sense of certainty, that it would be worth it, all of it. He was worth it.

“And I’ll love you in this universe and the next, Kageyama Tobio.”

Because as long as they had each other, they’d be invincible.

[courtingchaos]

Wooo I’m feeling some kind of way recently. Stress will do that to you.

A/N: this is fluff but seriously, no minors. I mean it.

But like, paint this picture with me.

Older Eddie (Professor Munson in my imaging), remembering all the things that make you happy. He notices you’re upset because job stuff and you’re having a hard time being in your 30’s and he gets it. It wasn’t that long ago he was there and he’s been watching you ghost around the townhouse for a week. Hair clipped up and the same pajamas you’ve had on for at least three days. He still trips over himself to see you though, even unwashed and snapping and sad. Every day he comes home and searches for you, and every day this week he’s found you in the spare room you’ve slowly turned into your space.

He’s told you he’ll clear it out and get you real office furniture but that makes you sink deeper into your depression. You talk about not being able to pay him back and he’s never once expected that.

You don’t have to. He doesn’t want you to. Let him do something for you. He just wants you to feel better.

And maybe that starts a fight because he’s already got his career and his friends and his money and his home. You’re floating in a job you hate and looking for another one to bide your time in because you actually hate the degree you spent 7 years getting. You only did it to prove to everyone else you could and now?

Now you live off of your boyfriend in his big, expensive brownstone. He’s 12 years into his field and settled and also 25 years older than you.

So what is it? You only like charity cases or something? Gotta rescue the idiot?

He knows you’re mad. He knows you lash out like this. He knows you’ll push so that everyone else leaves and you can feel like you got left instead. So maybe he snaps back at you for a second. Reminds you if he didn’t want you living with him and dating him he could find someone more age appropriate (he says with an eye roll). When you stomp up the stairs to your room he yells up to you that if he didn’t love you and was 20 years younger he’d be throwing your shit out onto the pavement outside, damn the old money next door.

Maybe you avoid him till the weekend when he’s home the whole time. You haven’t slept in the same bed and you haven’t answered a single knock or text or FaceTime. He sends you little flower emojis and a string of stars. He finds a tiktok about the Mars rover that he knows you’ll want to see and sends you some screen shots of the new menu for the whiskey bar you two like to go to. While you were sleeping he slid into your room and left your Sunday morning fancy coffee on the nightstand and when you finally wake up and notice it, you can hear him moving around in the kitchen.

You still feel like shit but at least you know he isn’t kicking you out. You know he wouldn’t, not over a stupid fight like that but still. It’s when you’re wrapped up in your robe and heading down stairs to finally speak to him you notice the bedroom door open. The bedroom you normally sleep in, with a sticky note on it. An arrow pointing in with a smiley face and crudely drawn horns. On the bed there’s a little paper bag from the expensive soap place you rarely buy from and it seems Eddie has outdone himself again. The rose shower melts and the lemon soap and that stupid body pouf you like so much that smells like candy. If you cry about it in the shower you don’t tell him and he doesn’t bring up your puffy face when you finally pad into the kitchen.

He’s baking something, it smells sweet and you spot the split packaging of the orange cinnamon pillsbury rolls in the trash and you have to swallow the lump in your throat. He hates those so you know he ran these errands yesterday when he left for those few hours. Probably ran by the grocery store first and then into that boutique that he always complains smells too much. He pauses when he see you staring into the trash can, silent and still. Doesn’t say anything, just tilts his head to try and catch your eye.

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t know what to do about anything and I’m panicking.

He just shrugs and smiles. He gets it. He always gets it. There’s something in him that always gets your mood swings and that deep seated anger. He’s never asked you to try and snuff that flame out, just helps you tend it.

It’s a controlled burn. You gotta let it get all the kindling out so new shit can grow.

Eddie pulls you into a hug and you lean into him. Breathe him in slow to try and get that lump to go away. You thank him for your shower and then gesture sadly behind you at the oven and thank him for the cinnamon rolls you know he hates. He laughs and it rumbles against you. He hums along to the music and you tuck your head into his neck and realize he’s got Neil Young on. There’s an old man joke on the tip of your tongue but then he starts singing along to Harvest Moon and you shut up. The tears you’ve been holding in since getting out of the shower push up and over and stain your cheeks and wet his old tshirt and he just shushes you. Sways you against him until the timer goes off and he sways you over to the stove and manages to get the round pan out without burning either of you.

Maybe it’s a rainy day and the drops patter against the windows. Eddie knows you like the rain and he dances you across the living room so he can crack the window so you can hear it coming down.

Because I’m still in love with you, I wanna see you dance again…

Sings quietly into your hair and tucks you up close and let’s you cry on his shoulder and when he feels you slowing down, taking those deep breaths to steady yourself, he pulls his phone out and replays the song so he can properly dance with you. He wants you to laugh so he holds your fingertip and first knuckle, acts like he’s playing a tiny harmonica. You giggle and he feels better, lighter. There’s color in your cheeks again and you’re looking him in the eye before you give him a kiss and drape back over him.

It’s cozy and it smells like cinnamon rolls and you’re swaying with him and you both are happy.

[animebw]

Short Reflection: Winter 2023 Anime

Is it just me, or did this season of anime kind of blow? Yes, anything would be a step down after the absurdly stacked Fall 2022 roster- and in fact, two of my favorites this season were continuations of shows I already liked from fall (Blue Lock and MHA)- but man, there was just a stench of failure around so much of Winter 2023′s offerings. Not just in how many of them turned out to be disappointments, but in how many of them didn’t even get to finish in time! Barely a week went by without another show suffering long delays, production after production crumbling under the weight of mismanagement and corporate apathy that doesn’t care how many animators are worked to death for an inferior product as long as they can make some extra cash from rushing it out early. I mercifully managed to avoid all the victims of these delays (well, almost; RIP Kubo-san Won’t Let Me Be Invisible), but even existing in the same space as them felt like it took a toll on everything else. This was a rough one, folks. But there were still some gems worth highlighting, so after spilling my thoughts on Onimai, Trigun Stampede and MHA Season 6, here are my thoughts on the rest of the anime I managed to finish this season!

(Also no Vinland Saga review yet cause I’m waiting for the season to be over, but spoilers, it’s still really fucking good. You’re shocked, I can tell.)

Tokyo Revengers Season 2: 1.5/10

You know what? I give up. I gave Tokyo Revengers every opportunity to finally pull itself together and turn into a good show. But not only did it drop the ball so hard the shockwave registered on the Richter scale, it felt like it was actively going out of its way to suck as hard as it could. Every single plot thread in season 2 is bungled so horrendously, from Takemichi’s increasingly unforgivable stupidity to the insulting cul-de-sac fights that change nothing about the status quo to the truly infuriating mishandling of every female character (Hey, I know, let’s give Yuzuha a panty shot while she’s being beaten by her abusive brother! Great idea!), that there is no possible way this show can ever recover. Even if the next season is somehow a masterpiece that fixes all the series’ issues- which it won’t be, let’s be honest- it won’t change the fact that Tokyo Revengers has established a new low for lazy, intelligence-insulting storytelling in shonen. The only reason it managed to get so popular is that it keeps making you think it’s about to do something really cool and meaningful with its high concept. But at this point, it’s all but proven that it never will. Fuck this show, fuck the manga it’s based on, and fuck everyone who accepts this barely-animated hackjob slop as anything close to acceptable entertainment.

The Fire Hunter: 2/10

Between this and Mars Red, I’m really starting to hate studio Signal MD. They’ve got a habit of turning fascinating highbrow fantasy premises into some of the dullest, sloppiest, most poorly produced pieces of pretentious dogshit that think they’re high art imaginable. And this one’s directed by Mamoru Oshii! He’s supposed to be a veteran director who knows his shit! How did he turn out such a colossal flop? Almost nothing in The Fire Hunter works on an audiovisual level; the animation is embarrassing, the direction is incomprehensible, the editing is somehow even worse (I have never seen such poorly timed painterly insert stills), and the whole thing is smothered under a droning soundtrack that drowns every scene in the same overbearing, tuneless sonic dead air. Even the best script in the world couldn’t survive this cataclysmically bad production, and suffice to say, this is very far from the best script in the world. It’s equal parts mind-numbing exposition, dull narration, and pointlessly mean characters with no interesting internal struggles or worldbuilding to justify the air of arrogance about the whole affair. The Fire Hunter desperately wants to convince you it’s art, but it’s just crap. Skip it.

To Your Eternity Season 2 (2nd Half): 3/10

I’ll give it this: the second half of To Your Eternity’s second season is unquestionably better than its first. Not a very high bar to clear, I realize, but after the utter slog that was Bon’s introductory arc, it’s good to have actually interesting things happen for a change. Unfortunately, for all the fresh air the siege of Renril brings to the proceedings- new characters, new kinds of stakes, a bonkers re-imagining of what Fushi’s powers are even capable of- it’s nowhere near enough to save this show from running itself into the ground. Whatever magic To Your Eternity once had is well and truly gone, buried under a flood of terrible production compromises and questionable story choices that have lead it down a path it can never recover from. No matter how much future arcs might try to turn things around, they’ll never escape the lesson this show has somehow forgotten it used to preach: when something dies, it can never truly return. To Your Eternity is dead. It’s over. Let it rest in piece while it still has some faint shred of dignity left.

Giant Beasts of Ars: 3/10

Did someone open a time portal to 2006? Giant Beasts of Ars feels exactly like the kind of original fantasy anime that studios were pumping out two decades ago- and unfortunately, that’s not a compliment. It gets off to a good start with a strong introductory episode that sets the tone well for a fun magitech adventure with some giant monster fighting, but the second that adventure gets under way, pretty much everything goes to shit. The characters are bland. The world itself is dull and uninspired. The action is lifeless thanks to a weak production that can’t give these fights the oomph they need. And the plot escalates from understandable low-key stakes to some of the most asinine “suddenly we’re fighting god now” swerves I’ve ever seen. Seriously, the way this story loses all sense of scale in its final episodes as it barrels head first toward a climax left me stunned in disbelief. Never mind the fact it ends on an asspull cliffhanger that’s almost certain to never get resolved because nobody’s going to want a second season of something this limp and underbaked. What a waste of time.

Kaina of the Great Snow Sea: 3.5/10

I was really excited at all the fantasy anime coming out this season. After being swamped in the isekai sewers for so long, it was such a relief to see the industry remember they could tell stories about actual fantastical worlds and not just, you know, reskinned Dragon Quest knockoffs. So imagine my how immeasurable my disappointment was when one by one, all these promising series let me down. Kaina’s Naussicaa-inspired world of snow seas, giant spire trees and steampunk skiffs navigating an allegorical prayer for co-existence with nature and rejection of militarism should have been an easy slam dunk, a new Miyazaki for a modern landscape. Unfortunately, as beautifully realized as the world is- Polygon Pictures is no studio Orange, but their impressive background art and environmental storytelling continue to make a strong case for CG anime- the writers forgot to populate that world with anyone worth getting invested in. The characters are the stockiest of stock archetypes, photocopies of photocopies of tropes that have already been worn to the bone by decades of misuse and overuse alike. If you’ve seen even one generic fantasy anime, chances are you’re already sick of these characters, and there’s nothing fresh or particularly meaningful here to make up for the lack of originality. Don’t get me started on how poorly the princess is treated, yegh. Is it too late to unplug the concept of fantasy anime for a few years and hope it recovers some steam before we plug it back in?

High Card: 3.5/10

There is no excuse for High Card being as lame as it ended up. A Kingsmen-style goofy gentleman spy action comedy written by the author of Kakegurui in which secret agents in dapper suits fight with the power of magic transforming playing cards? And the entire world is themed around cards and card games (the country is Fourland, the spy organization is Pinochle with its office on Old Maid street)? This should have been a camp masterpiece every bit as delightfully unhinged as Kakegurui. This should have been the most gloriously Anime Bullshit (affectionate) experience of the year. But instead, it was mostly just Anime Bullshit (derogatory). It takes so little advantage of its concept, wasting episode upon episode on trite plotlines and cliche developments, jumping between so many tones and focuses without ever settling on a single one. I came here to see Twink Bruce Wayne summon bazookas out of thin air with the power of Instant Interdimensional Marketplace, not slog through the umpteenth iteration of “the stoic katana girl needs to open up to her male colleagues” or “tragic little sister with an incurable illness.” The bouncy ED, which sees the main cast all singing together in the car, was the one consistent bright spot, and even that started feeling more and more like an insult as time went on. If only the rest of the show were as loose and freewheeling as those painfully short 90 seconds per episode promised.

Don’t Toy With Me, Nagatoro-San Season 2: 3.5/10

Look, I’m no prude. I’m not above trash. Nagatoro’s first season was far from a masterpiece, but it had enough actual charm and character depth that I didn’t mind coming along for the ride. But the thing about trash is that just like every other show, you still have to do it well. Nagatoro wasn’t ever entertaining because it was a shallow wish-fulfillment rom-com for masochists, it was entertaining because it found something recognizably human in spite of being a shallow wish-fulfillment rom-com for masochists. And sadly, whatever spark made that first season work didn’t survive the transfer to OLM studios. There are fun moments here and there, but the overall package is just too half-hearted to care anymore. Not even the introduction of Nagatoro’s sister keeps the proceedings from feeling increasingly mindless. What’s the point of this show, really? What does it offer that I can’t get better elsewhere? Because if the only appeal is the teasing gimmick, well, Teasing Master Takagi-san is right there, people. You could be watching an actual good show about a girl mercilessly teasing her crush instead of this flavorless assembly-line mushburger of an anime. Just saying.

The Tale of Outcasts: 4.5/10

There’s something strangely endearing about The Tale of Outcasts, despite its many flaws. Does it read like every thirteen-year-old girl’s embarrassing stash of unpublished Ancient Magus Bride fanfiction? Yes, unquestionably. But you know what? There are far worse things to be. Maybe it’s the isekai exhaustion getting to me, but there’s something so refreshing about a cringey wish-fulfillment fantasy adventure populated by stock archetypes and hacky plotting that’s actually, like, wholesome? That feels like it was made out of genuine amateurish love for Victorian splendor mixed with demon furries instead of incel resentment that the world isn’t catering to their every whim? Yeah, it’s still cringe, but it’s charmingly cringe, not revoltingly cringe. I still can’t really recommend it unless you’ve got a real soft spot for deep-voiced daddy beast people who can be your angle or your dveil, but out of all the bad shows I kept up with this season, this was the one where I never minded clicking on that next episode button, and that’s gotta count for something.

Urusei Yatsura (2nd Half): 5.5/10

I think it takes a change in mindset to really appreciate Urusei Yatsura. True to its 70s roots, this is not an anime to watch for a constant sense of forward progression. This is a show to be enjoyed as a reliable weekly comfort, 25 minutes of mayhem every 7 days with a familiar cast of characters bouncing off each other endlessly. If you come in looking for a tightly woven narrative that’s always driving toward a forseeable endpoint like most modern anime confined to single cours runs, you’re likely to be disappointed. But if you let yourself just enjoy the chaos and don’t worry about what might come next, I think you’ll find a lot to like here. If nothing else, I appreciate Studio David sticking to that old-fashioned spirit. But I have to admit, I might’ve preferred a more streamlined adaptation that doesn’t waste a second of runtime. What can I say, I’m used to modern anime pacing. Or maybe I’m just annoyed by yet another instance of a tomboy character who wants to be more feminine. Which, you know, not Ryunosuke’s fault that particular trope has gotten so beaten to death these days, but still. Sometimes making changes for modern times isn’t such a bad thing, you know?

Revenger: 6/10

So y’all hear about this Gen Urobuchi guy? Apparently he was pretty famous back in the day or something, IDK. He’s been plugging away at his goofy Taiwanese puppets show for the past few years and slapped his name on the story concepts of a few high profile projects for extra buzz, but now at last, he’s returned to grace us with a full story and script from his own hands! ...and apparently from 17 years in the past as well, because from what I’ve heard, Urobuchi originally wrote Revenger back in 2006, well before the one-two-three punch of Madoka Magica, Fate/Zero and Psycho-Pass that would make him a household name. And boy does it definitely feel like a trial run of those shows. Not that it’s bad by any means; it’s slickly produced, the cast has good chemistry, and the Booch is clearly having fun coming up with creative ways for evil bastards to be mercilessly slaughtered. But that’s really all it is, with little of the staggering depth and emotional complexity that would later earn him a place among the greats. It’s a first draft of basically all the thematic ideas he’d later perfect: the corruption of systems of power, the failure of blind heroism, the necessity of finding hope even in the darkest corners of the earth. I still recommend it for any fans of creative edgy violence, but don’t come in expecting another Madoka. It’s a bite-sized snack of an Urobuchi show, not the main course. And I’m totally fine with that; it’s entertaining enough on its own modest merits to be worth a look.

Play It Cool, Guys (2nd Half): 6/10

Yeah, I knew this one was gonna grow on me. There’s nothing like a really good low-key deadpan comedy to put me in a good mood at the end of a long day. Really, I think Cool Doji Danshi’s secret weapon is how much it appreciates the mundane awkwardness of everyday life. I have been in many situations much like its titular characters, little moments of confusion where the pieces don’t quite line up how they’re supposed to and before I know it I’m putting my umbrella in the fridge because I momentarily mixed it up with the groceries. And also like its title characters, I’ve learned just how damn important these moments are to my life. None of us are perfect meat machines 100% of the time; in many ways, our clumsiness is what makes us human far more than our accomplishments. And there’s something so wonderfully comforting about watching these boys (and men) come to appreciate their own imperfections much as I’ve done of myself. We need more shows that celebrate that simple silliness as well as this one does. So if you’ve been looking for something to lift your spirits in this increasingly grim world, I cannot recommend this show enough.

Sugar Apple Fairy Tale: 6.5/10

Do my eyes deceive me? A non-isekai, shoujo oriented fantasy that’s all about slavery being a bad thing? Stop the presses, we’re defying all the norms over here! Between this and the new season of Vinland Saga, it feels like we’re finally starting to push back on the noxious floodgates that Shield Hero pried open, and I could not be more thankful for that. Now, is Sugar Apple Fairy Tale a perfect depiction of the dynamics of slavery? Fuck no, it’s a young adult wish-fulfillment romance about a hot sulky fairy boy falling for the woman that was once his owner, this thing’s as problematic as an Antebellum-era Uncle Tom’s Cabin ripoff. But at least it’s actually trying to say something about the effects of dehumanization on a societal scale and how it manifests, and I’d argue it succeeds more often than it trips over itself. Plus, how fucking great is it to have an actual shoujo romance again? Set in a charming fantasy world with some actual originality? Sugar Apple Fairy Tale’s not perfect, but its charms are evident of a trend I hope to see countless other shows follow. The more fantasy anime looks like this instead of The World’s Strongest Necromancer is Reincarnated With a Cheat Skill In Another World Harem (I just made that title up, but admit it, you weren’t sure at first), the better off we’ll all be.

Ippon Again: 6.5/10

We seriously need more good female-centric sports anime. The guys have been dominating the field with their shounens and seinens while the girls are forced to subside on moeblob table scraps more concerned with being cute than actually telling a compelling sports narrative, or else being handed the absolute bottom of the production barrel (cries in Farewell My Dear Cramer). Ippon Again isn’t gonna right the ship all on its own, but it’s a damn good first step. The characters feel like believable teenagers, their judo matches are given genuine weight and strong animation, and while it suffers from some tired sports anime cliches, it always executes them with heart firmly on its sleeve. At its best, it captures the same freewheeling adolescent spirit that defines the likes of A Place Further Than the Universe, and I don’t say that lightly. It’s no masterpiece, but it’s a damn good time with no caveats, and hopefully it’ll only be the first of many great lady-centric sports anime to come.

Tsurune Season 2: 7/10

If you’ve somehow forgotten about the first season of KyoAni’s pretty boys doing archery show Tsurune from back in 2018, well, I don’t blame you. As a testing ground for the studio’s rookie talent to take their first crack at putting their own show together, it was by far the studio’s most workmanlike production, an all-around solid experience but lacking the insane polish and panache that defines the KyoAni brand. But my god, what a difference five years makes. Tsurune’s second season isn’t just a massive upgrade on the production front, it’s a complete overhaul on the show’s entire look and feel. It’s sweeping and elegant, it’s vibrant and explosive, it’s as expertly poised and shimmering as a bowstring drawn at dawn right before it releases a brilliant arrow. This show has gone from KyoAni’s simplest looking show to one of its most richly cinematic, complete with earthier color tones and revamped score from Fruits Basket composer Masaru Yokoyama. Yes, it’s ultimately still just a show about pretty boys learning to shoot bows well as they overcome their issues together. But with such a massive step up in its look and feel, it’s officially become just as much appointment viewing as any KyoAni masterpiece.

Blue Lock (2nd Half): 7.5/10

Now that’s more fucking like it. Last season I bemoaned the lack of edgy death game nonsense I was promised in this edgy death game sports anime, but once we reached the second selection, Blue Lock kicked into high gear and made good on its premise at last. Betrayals! Allies turned enemies! Enemies turned allies! Overcharged homoerotic rivalries and break-ups alike! Overdramatic shonen boys trying to crush each other underfoot to grow stronger! Self-actualization through rejecting the power of friendship and embracing the power of “Fuck this guy!” This is everything I wanted when I first learned about Blue Lock’s premise, twisting the classic shonen sports formula into an equally blood-pumping tale of clashing egos and selfishness as everyone fights to become the best player by embracing their worst selves. It might have taken a hot second to get there, but now that it’s arrived, this show has become some of the most deliriously entertaining chaos you’re likely to find in the genre. Well done, you mad genius.

Buddy Daddies: 8/10

Man, whoever’s making the decisions on what shows PA Works produces is really on a roll lately, huh? It takes a real genius to look at premises like Ya Boi Kongming and Akiba Maid War and see an opportunity to create something truly special. But even that pales in comparison to the brilliance behind Buddy Daddies, a.k.a. “Hey, so this Spy x Family show is about to take over the world, right? What if we made our own version of that, but mix in the homoerotic buddy-cop energy of Tiger and Buddy to make it stand out?” That’s the kind of galaxy-brain thinking that’s rapidly making this studio a personal favorite of mind. And it’s that kind of confidence and pure solid storytelling chops that make Buddy Daddies just as entertaining and endearing as its most obvious inspiration. It’s not exactly the same- it’s set in modern day, it’s more focused on the child-raising than the assassin stuff- but it’s every bit as good at nailing that specific sweet spot of deliciously entertaining spy action, wholesome family hijinks, and the bittersweet space in between trying to reconcile those two worlds. Heck, Miri’s a way more realistic four-year-old than Anya ever was; you can tell the writers really did their research on what it’s like to care for a child that young. The year’s still young, but I think this show is already a strong contender for the feel-good masterpiece of 2023. Just don’t go in expecting the hot guys to kiss, because you will leave disappointed if you do.

The Magical Revolution of the Reincarnated Princess and the Genius Young Lady: 8.5/10

We’ve done it, folks. We’ve finally cracked the code on how to make modern isekai great. Step One: Center it on a female protagonist with an actual personality instead of an empty self-insert male-patterned cooler full of stale oatmeal. Step Two: Make your story all about subverting the exhausting masturbatory self-centeredness of vanilla isekai in favor of a symbolic or literal revolution to give power back to all lovers of fantasy instead of pandering to maladjusted thirty-year-old manchildren. Step Three: As part of that progressive reinvention, make it GAY. AS. FUCK. The Executioner and her Way of Life was a strong step in the right direction, but as good as that show was, there was clearly still room to push things even further. But now, at last, that potential has been fully realized by the stunning tale of a reincarnated princess and a genius young lady coming together to revolutionize the world. Folks, MagiRevo fucking rules. The main leads are wonderful separately and even more wonderful together, the production is strong enough to carry the story’s soaring ambition, and it’s a genuinely powerful exploration of the harms caused by archaic systems of patriarchal power, and how difficult it is- but also how necessary- to change what’s been leading a society down the wrong path for so long. And while it drags a little in the midsection, it all culminates in a spectacular final act and a final episode that had me sobbing in my seat for 25 straight minutes. This isn’t just the best isekai since Re:Zero, this is a triumph of queer fantasy carving its own revolution through a genre that’s desperately needed it for far too long. So come join me and raise your banner with Anis and Euphie, because their journey deserves all the attention we can give. I promise, you won’t regret it.

[rmorde]

Had Gojo not learn RCT right at that moment to survive, his last thoughts would have been about Riko's safety.

I'm getting teary eyed just thinking about it.

But what if Gojo became a curse right after he passed? An extremely powerful curse like Rika hellbent on protecting Riko, Kuroi, and Geto.

It's possible right? Toji dealt the fatal blow on his head with an ordinary knife. Gojo could come back and save Riko from being shot.

It can go like this:

Gojo dies but returns instantly as a Special Grade Curse.

He was too late to protect Kuroi but he uses his powers to stop her from bleeding to death. He moved her in a secure place.

Curse!Gojo then returns the favor on Toji. He gets the drop on him and tore him apart from limb to limb with a creative casting of Blue.

Geto recognizes Curse!Gojo first. Riko does the same but only after Gojo calls out her name.

Curse!Gojo led them to Kuroi.

The gang discretely meet up with Shoko to save Kuroi.

After some deliberation in the morgue, Shoko lets them leave and promised to not say anything to anyone about their decision to let Riko live with Geto as a guard. She only asks that they try to keep themselves safe (explicitly) and to keep in touch (implicitly)

Geto does not have the heart to "eat" Gojo. So, he left him as he is. Luckily, Gojo has "special" etched into his very being. He is intelligent and somewhat communicative. Eventually, he'd be able to pass as a human. (Look if Mahito can act and look as he is in canon as a newborn, I'm sure Gojo can too.)

And so, Geto summons the Rainbow Dragon as their get away ride. He, Riko, and Kuroi flew to the sunset with Curse!Gojo floating above them.

They live happily ever after. The End.

EPILOGUE

Riko's brand new family in hiding were in the vicinity of NanaYu's mission gone wrong. They managed to help them in time. Yu survived long enough to be helped by Shoko at school. Nanami is now in on their secret.

Riko somehow found Mimiko and Nanako. She picked them up and brought them home before the villagers could cage then abuse them any further.

As for the Fushiguros, it was Kuroi who brought them in. The siblings were on the run from the Zenins. They barely avoided capture so far until they encountered Kuroi. She recognized that they were in trouble and helped immediately.

Somehow, Geto still ended up being the leader of the Star Religious Group. Apparently the cult misidentified Curse!Gojo as Tengen somehow and Geto as his priest of sorts. It's a very stressful affair for the ex-sorcerer.

As for how Curse!Gojo would look like:

He still has a humanoid shape. His face is intact too although there is a permanent red mark from his mouth to chin which made him uncanny.

His entire body is a seamless expanse of bone white skin. It's only marred by a golden swirl winking like a star on where his uniform button used to be.

He would literally have Six Eyes: a pair on his head like when he was human, one on the fatal wound on his head, a big one running across from his throat to hip, and then two more on his left thigh.

His eyes change color to match the sky. When sad, they would cry tears of blood. If upset or angry, they would turn into an endless void.

Curse!Gojo has no hair. What is on top of his head is a silver colored curse energy blazing like fire. It leaves a long trail like a comet. It can also change color depending on what abilities he has active -> Silver = Infinity only Active -> Blue = CTL only Active -> Silvery Blue = Infinity + CTL Active

He cannot speak yet due to the damage to his throat. So he compensates with body language instead.

Curse!Gojo would figure out RCT eventually.

[cebwrites]

scar headcanons (Hiraishin Pirates)

a/n: wanted to get these onto paper before I forgot because I haven't been inspired enough to write them into fic form, lol

oc crew word count: 0.8k

Kirin

A scar vertically across his left collarbone from getting in the middle of a fight between Daz Bones and Bon Clay when they were all still Baroque agents (Bon-chan didn't leave him unhurt either, their kick to Kirin's head gave him a hell of a concussion)

A spiky, horizontal scar (frantic, poor stitching) across his abdomen slightly under his navel from his desperate teenage dysphoria brain taking control and attempting something very very stupid that he still hears about to this day

A diagonal scar going into the inner thigh of his left leg, and stitching scars all across his right leg post-Marineford

A big, jagged scar that gets darker further in from his brother post-Dressrosa (he had a rough time getting around in the direct aftermath of receiving that wound, so hasn't healed that well); this scar tends to hurt on rainy days

And small nicks around his waist and lower back, almost as if they were made by the end of a hook

Aside from those, he has smaller scars here and there all over his body, Kirin's not as particularly fussed about protecting precious skin as his partners' are - ironically no other scars on his torso though, even as he struts around shirtless two thirds of the time with active goading to whoever tries to challenge that

Reiji

Miscellaneous (slashing) scars on his arms in no particular order, and some on his legs but not many, Reiji also has stitching scars on his right thumb + pinky and his left index + ring finger

His biggest scars are a big spiky one just above his heart that comes out through his back

[There are no other scars on his back or other parts of his body, some would say that's fitting for a swordsman but he'd rebuke it]

Rio

More than they care to count since they blur together after a while, especially on their back, the majority of them whipping and laceration marks

Rio doesn't go out of their way to avoid reflections of their back anymore - the tiger tattoo covering that accursed dragon claw on their skin - but they don't need to see it to know those scars would always remain; he feels them, constantly, whenever they move or shift even the slightest amounts

Rio has more scars on the back of their upper arms and legs but they've gotten used to those, barely feel em anymore

On the under side of their left arm, they have a long, jagged gash Post-Timeskip; when Rio stands with one hand over the other, sometimes they'll brush their fingers against it out of habit

Izzy

A mildly disturbing fact Izzy realized about himself after getting his devil fruit is that, after a while, his scars don't seem to last nearly as long as they should

Small nicks he'd expect, but at some point they began noticing what should be life-long mars on their skin start to fade, even if from a long time ago, almost like an old tattoo

It kind of instilled a deep-seeded fear that one day he too would fade like ink underneath someone's skin they didn't bother to touch up, gradually, helpless to stop it, and without anyone really noticing - a partial drive behind his dream to leave his literal mark on the world, by tattooing 10,000 people they'd never truly be forgotten and live on through their work

Tetsu

A lot less than some people would typically assume - Tetsu wants his body to be a canvas for his husband's art, so there's no way he could let that art get damaged, right?

He still has quite a few, though, namely on his torso and legs from direct stab wounds (his arms are surprisingly clean)

He has a circular bullet scar on his right shoulder after taking a shot that was initially for Bepo, now it's the center of a beautiful wave illustration from Izzy that he takes to brag about any chance he gets

Alto

Much like Izzy, most scars he gets are impermanent - but only on Alto's "puppet" body, and unlike them, as soon as Alto returns to his human form, they're no longer there

If they're injured in that fleshy form, though, that scar is forever, even transferring over to the next body they carve; this is possibly why no matter how many times Alto carves himself new wings, they never sit comfortably and eventually always have to be shed

The new wood he attaches to his head is unmarred, but mind and body (the human one) still retain the memory of his flight being ripped away by cold government hands

Migi

Stitch scars all around their right hand, slightly below the wrist, where they received their namesake from (the mission gone awry that marked them with this still a fresh, bitter memory before the timeskip)

They have a scar over their right eye as well, usually hidden by her scope; the damaged caused was bad enough that she needed a replacement, but luckily enough someone with the most gorgeous obsidian eyes was kind enough to give her theirs

Migi has few other scars aside from these two, their position as a sniper usually keeps them far from the toils of melee combat and even if there is trouble close up, one of their crewmates is quick to back them up

[justtluffythings]

HOME: Book 4 - CHAPTER THREE

MASTERLIST

If asked, Veronica would say the last two months had been the worst months she had had since starting at Hogwarts four years ago. Tonks went everywhere with her and Charlie, and she was constantly trying to make Veronica uncomfortable by showing as much PDA as possible. At first, Veronica tried to ignore it; she didn’t want to give Tonks any satisfaction. But as the weeks went by, she couldn’t take it anymore. She began distancing herself from the couple and making excuses as to why she couldn’t spend time with them. In the span of three weeks, Veronica went from spending practically every waking hour with Charlie to only seeing him at the lake on Saturdays. She even stopped eating meals in the Great Hall all together. Instead, she would make her way down to the kitchens where the house elves would let her eat her meals with them. She also found herself spending a lot of time with Snape in his office. So much so that he brought in a small little desk and put it beside his, giving her a space where she could work on whatever homework she needed to do. She hadn’t volunteered any details to her professor or headmaster about why she was avoiding Charlie, and they hadn’t asked her. They knew she could handle whatever it was on her own. However, they ensured she had somewhere to go in the meantime when she needed to be alone.

Now, after more than two months of torture, Veronica felt like she couldn’t even spend Saturdays at the lake with Charlie anymore. All he did those days was talk about Tonks, and she didn’t think she could handle hearing anymore about the love of her life snogging someone else. Especially when he went on and on about how much he enjoyed it and how much he liked her. That was how she found herself, on the most beautiful Saturday afternoon she had seen in a long time, in the farthest reaches of the library, where students rarely ever ventured to, sitting and reading alone. It was depressing, she knew that, but she had told Charlie that she had a meeting with Dumbledore and Snape that afternoon, and she couldn’t risk him finding out she was lying. First, he would never forgive her. Second, he would never trust her. And third, and almost worst of all, she would have to go back to the torture that was hanging out with him. She couldn’t believe the way she was feeling now. She never would have imagined hating being around her best friend, but she didn’t know if she could even call Charlie her best friend anymore. He wasn’t the same. He didn’t care about her now that he had Tonks.

“Hey, Veronica!”

Her head shot up at the voice, but she quickly relaxed as she saw Maribelle peeking her head around the bookshelf that was concealing Veronica from the rest of the library. She was extremely glad to have a distraction from the painful thoughts that plagued her mind every waking second of the day. “Oh, hey Mar! You know it’s always great to see you, but what are you doing inside on a day like today? You should be enjoying the weather.”

“I would say the same to you, but I’ve noticed you avoiding Charlie ever since he started dating that Hufflepuff girl, and you’ve been spending most of your time inside… except for when there’s practice of course.” The sixth-year girl chuckled at the distressed look on her teammate’s face. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask what that’s about. I’m just making an observation.” Maribelle raised her hands to emphasize her words. “Anyway, I'm here looking for some of the books I need for Charms and Transfiguration. I figured it would be easier to find them when the library’s empty.”

“You’re still working on getting your grades up for Quidditch?”

“Of course! I’m so anxious to get back on the team, you have no idea. Seeing you lot playing in the first game of the season last week against Slytherin and not being able to play was rough to say the least. Especially knowing we could have won if I was playing; I definitely would have caught that Snitch. I don’t want to have to deal with that again. I need to be back on the team ASAP.”

Veronica smiled sympathetically. “I hear you. I can tell you we definitely want you back on the team ASAP. Walker is okay, but he isn’t you, Mar. You’re irreplaceable.” Veronica chuckled at the blush creeping onto her friend’s face. “But, you know, the Charms and Transfiguration books aren’t here. They’re all in the first two rows of bookshelves at the front of the library in front of Pince’s desk.”

“Oh, I know. I’m actually looking for books on non-verbal magic. That’s been my biggest challenge this year. I don’t know if you know this, but in sixth year, students are taught about non-verbal magic, which is where you learn how to perform spells without the incantation.” Veronica tried not to laugh as she allowed the older girl to explain a concept to her that she knew and understood better than most. “It comes in handy when you’re fighting or dueling someone, and you don’t want them to know your next move.”

“Fascinating. And you’re having some trouble with it?”

“Yeah, it’s some pretty advanced stuff, and a lot of people struggle with it, but everyone is usually able to do it by now. I’m the only one in my year that hasn’t gotten the hang of it.”

“Oh no! Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Sorry, no offense, Veronica. I know you’re a gifted witch, and you’re the brightest witch of your year. Honestly, of any year ever. But, unless you know how to perform non-verbal magic at all, let alone well enough to teach it to someone else, I don’t think you can help me. Besides, no matter how many people explain it or try to teach it to me, I just can’t do it. I’m really hoping reading about it will help.”

A slight chuckle escaped Veronica’s lips, despite her trying so hard to hold it in, and she attempted to cover it with a cough. Maribelle didn’t seem to notice. “I’m sure it will.” With a slight wave of her hand, which wasn’t necessary for anything more than to have a dramatic effect, four books came floating down from the shelves behind her and landed gently on the desk beside her.

Maribelle gasped as her eyes widened. “Wait… did you just… there’s no way that you… how did… I mean… wow!”

Veronica smirked at the look of disbelief on her friend’s face. “Yeah, not to brag or anything, but I can actually do non-verbal wandless magic pretty easily. I learned it in second year.”

“What? You realize how unbelievable that is, right Veronica? Why doesn’t everyone know about this? It should be something you brag about any chance you get.”

Veronica shook her head adamantly. “No, I’d rather everyone not know. I don’t need the whole school asking me to teach them how to do it.”

Maribelle chuckled, but pursed her lips and nodded in understanding. “True, I guess I never thought about that. Well, don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. How’d you learn how to do that, anyway?”

“Come sit.” Maribelle obliged and sat across from her. “I actually taught myself after the incident with Archie at the lake. So, my offer still stands; if you need help, I am more than happy to try to teach you. I’ve read every book there is and spoken to all the professors. I’ve gained as much knowledge as possible, but still made a lot of mistakes and learned a lot through months and months of practice, and honestly, I’ve learned a few things along the way that I was never told. Things that might help you.”

“That would be amazing, Veronica! I would really appreciate that.”

“Well, then it would be my pleasure.”

***

As Veronica made her way through the halls towards the library, she heard the voice she used to love so much but now only brought her pain calling her name behind her. She tried to ignore it and keep walking, but Charlie pulled her arm and spun her around. Veronica noticed this was one of the few times he wasn’t with her. “Hey, why are you ignoring me?”

“Oh, hey Charlie! I wasn’t ignoring you, I just didn’t hear you. What’s up?”

“‘What’s up’? Where were you yesterday? I waited for you by the lake for hours, but you never showed up.”

Veronica felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest and smashed into pieces, but she tried not to let it show. “Sorry Charlie, I’ve been helping Maribelle with learning non-verbal magic so she can bring up her Charms and Transfiguration marks and rejoin our team before the next game, so I’ve just been really busy. You understand, don’t you?”

“Sure, but this isn’t like you. For three years, you never once missed a Saturday. Now, all of a sudden, you miss two in a row? Plus-”

“I know, I’m really sorry Charlie, but I really need to go now. Mar’s waiting for me, and we’ve got a lot to do. I’ll see you.” And before Charlie could say another word, Veronica jogged away from him around the corner and out of sight. Once she knew he couldn’t see her anymore, she leaned her back against the wall before sliding down until she was sitting. Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Fuck me.

“Hiya, Veronica, are you okay?”

Veronica smiled with her eyes still closed, willing the tears away before opening them and turning her head to look at the young boy crouching in front of her. The sweet first-year boy she knew well and loved dearly. “I’m alright, Percy darling. Thanks for asking.”

[amagicdoctor]

RIP Doom, sucks that they just went up and nerfed you to the ground for plot convenience. Just like they did for the Scarlet Witch... And Franklin Richards... And Wiccan... (Anyway, how do you imagine your strange would fare in the SOS event? Not that you should involve him in it in your blog because events are a MESS but just as a what if kind of scenario)

Thank you for asking about this!! There are so many thoughts and feelings with SoS, some I'd like to confront, some I'd like to completely avoid.

Writing to this ask took me two hours and I've tried to condense my thoughts as best I could, so you can follow this journey under the cut cause there's a lot we have to go though.

First I just want to say I'm very glad I got to read the start of this series for myself because I did not understand that this arc would have so much reach over the Marvel universe (like it's specifically Earth/Mars but still). And I'm also glad that I'm pretty much caught up on Krakoa to understand parts of why it got so bad and to learn about Sinister more as a character, especially his motivations.

Right now my only problem with this series is that Marvel is treating it as the absolute canon to the future state of Marvel. It apparently is NOT an alternate universe.

Dealing with a series that happens in the future is a bit difficult to translate on a blog that resides in the present (we are finally catching up lol). For example, I waited this long to see how they dealt with the death of Dr. Strange, just so I could properly reformat that arc to this blog. And I'm comparing the two because they both drastically changed the way Marvel universe worked.

Right now I'm having a very difficult time accepting this as true canon. It's still very much up in the air what I do with this because maybe at the end of the entire SoS (and pre-Fall of X?) it will be retconned to some degree. Usually with larger arcs like these I want to see what happens in the end. I don't want to go along with it as it runs because they may throw a curve ball and I want to be prepared for that in advance. So you're right, you never know with events.

Back to what I was saying before, Sinister's reach was much larger than I thought it was going to be. And it did directly effect Dr. Strange's side of the universe, because like you said, Dr. Doom is 'gone' and so is the Scarlet Witch.

First of all I find it hard to believe someone of Victor's stature would get taken down like that, so I would think Victor is masquerading as that Doombot they spotted and laying low for right now. This is kind of like a Skrull invasion situation, so I don't think even he would try to reach out to other sorcerers (especially Dr. Strange) about next steps. Plus I would think Victor would still work alone, even in this situation. Self preservation is key with this one.

Now that scene with the Scarlet Witch getting shot down was extremely disturbing. While I'm... sort of ok with her being 'dead' it again strikes me as hard to believe 😅. But then again, Sinister did have access to a lot of powerhouses on Krakoa. I don't think it's that impossible. And this may sound surprising but it hurt seeing Wanda dead and Stephen being alive to deal with the aftermath, which we'll talk about it a minute. Usually putting him in experiences like this are so fun because that man is always been tortured 🤡, but even I found this short scene as sad as Doctor Strange: The End. But I do like the potential of her being gone. It gives him something more to fight for.

We can also say Strange Academy met a similar fate, maybe being wiped out entirely depending on how much Sinister values magical kids. The fate of someone like Doyle, we'll talk about in a minute.

Like Dr. Doom, Dr. Strange is a man with lots of back up plans. I would like to imagine like Victor, Stephen knew his friends were being compromised so he started making plans. But you know him, he relies on the strength of his community, so unlike Victor, he needed some help.

I think with Wiccan being married and living with his space husband, he was not effected by the Sinister takeover. Perhaps he was given direct orders from his grandpa to stay away unless given a signal. It was said in SoS #1, by the QC, that alien forces were aware of the tampering of earth and were on their way to stop them. While Wiccan and Dr. Strange have a plan, that doesn't mean that Emperor Hulking doesn't (presumably that is his army's concern and is separate from the mystic's plan).

Dr. Strange would also be aware Magik was being compromised (she still had to meet with him in-person to train etc). Perhaps we can say she knew too and they both devised a plan where, through magical suggestion, she could snap out of it.

And if anyone's wondering about Nightcrawler, by the time Dr. Strange is alive (at the end of Strange and presumably at the end of LOX #11) Kurt has been compromised and hidden away by Sinister. Sadly, Dr. Strange would never see what Kurt had become.

I can't make too an accurate guess about Clea, but she nor Wong was shown fighting alongside Wanda and Stephen when Wanda was shot down by Sinister's forces.

Perhaps Dr. Strange hid Clea away (with Wong) to find alternative ways to attack.

It was shown in SoS that Dormammu still held power, so Clea nor Doyle fought for their place back in their home dimension. See Dormammu here:

So Clea must be on Earth with Stephen to continue being married and living with one another.

Dr. Strange brought Wanda home because the sanctum is a fortress. I'm sure he had a plan cooked up that the sanctum itself would protect them from outside forces, so they prepped it up and then took the fight outside. Stephen making it clear to Wanda that there was a good chance they could both get killed, but being surprised when it was only Wanda and they left him alone (Wanda being the only one killed was a small percentage). I'm picturing him scrambling to his feet after Wanda disintegrates. Him running to the house to find the portal that leads to Wong and Clea, and that's where he stays.

Because of Wanda's immediate death, his plan with Magik didn't come into fruition, she was completely taken over.

Wiccan alerts his husband that he's worried he hasn't heard a thing back from any member of his family on Earth, and Hulking takes this as the final straw, they set a course back to Earth.

So, overall, I think Dr. Strange would be in the same boat as Dr. Doom. Hiding away (with Wong and Clea AND Bats hopefully) planning his next steps. Whether this is in a pocket dimension or somewhere out of reach. He's done this tons of times before (in the recursion arc he straight up left to seek knowledge).

This kind of goes without saying but sadly Dr. Strange would have seen the attacks on a lot of his friends coming (perhaps even without saying anything because he's just one of those mystics to let it happen and he will deal with it as it occurs) and I'm not just talking about the horror show the Avengers became. Iron Fist (including the rest of the Defenders) + Hellcat, all compromised. And I think that because we saw people like Spider-Man as a clone, and they're all street-level heroes. They would protect others in their neighborhood before thinking about their own well being. Sadly, their mentality makes them leave their families behind to be heroes, and despite their efforts everyone still got taken over. Dr. Strange knew this, and while he was trying to protect those in his own neighborhood, he could hold out longer than them.

And that also has me thinking about them over at Strange Academy. I would imagine the adults like the Ancient One, Agatha, Dr. Voodoo and Zelma would protect the kids as best they could. Sinister has a Legion clone, so he has the power to match these guys even if he's not big on magic. I would imagine when all else fails, the staff relies on a backup plan Dr. Strange left them which suggests evacuating the students to an alt. dimension. I see TAO smiling about the steps provided, but he comes up with a better idea. I would not say they would end up in the same place as Dr. Strange and Clea. I think it's a little better for their groups to stay separated for now.

To me, SoS will be very funny to read. Marvel tends to overlook the magical community. This is why I think Dr. Strange and Dr. Doom are still alive/not compromised. The mystics may not win immediately but they are planners. They are extremely clever, creative, and their art is built on survivability.

[esotericfaery]

Aquarius New Moon - Feb. 9th, 2024

Squaring Uranus in Taurus (which rules Aquarius), this new moon causes lack of focus, mood swings and impulsivity. We feel rebellious, and like we want extra stimulation. We’re easily distracted and feeling unsettled. We anticipate something new soon occuring. We lack accuracy and have weak reflexes. It’s not recommended to make sudden changes, if we can avoid them. We need extra patience as we’re susceptible to emotional outbursts or to dealing with them among loved ones. Avoid any instincts to cause or escalate drama, during this erratic, eccentric energy. The Aquarius Sun is also squaring Uranus, so we have this pushing us to come up with innovative solutions to what could present as sudden, sometimes shocking situations.

Mercury in Aquarius square Jupiter in Taurus causes even more urges towards the extreme, particularly with communications. Morality clashes and conflicts regarding values come up. We need to be careful to not offer to do more than we’re absolutely certain we can deliver at this time. If we don’t lose our cool, we can communicate in a way to where understanding is found, but it won’t be easy.

Mars in Capricorn conjunct Pluto in Aquarius will bring power struggles to a head around this time, as we’re preoccupied, and possibly obsessed with getting to the bottom of whatever we’re experiencing. With heightened will, we can accomplish a lot. If we’re not careful to force ourselves to focus on one project, we can find ourselves in mind loops, experiencing anxiety and insomnia. We may experience pent-up anger, and need to channel this healthily. Search within to find out what is causing this hard to control, volatile energy, so we can find a proper solution.

Jupiter sextile Saturn in Pisces provides extensive, easy opportunity around this time, to start working towards long term goals. Venus and Mars in Capricorn sextiling Neptune in Pisces inspires creative actions. As sextiles, these three aspects can provide breathing room and great results. Involving Pisces and Neptune, this is a triple shot of highly intuitive energy. Don’t expect too much logic when working with this energy, though it can work well if we recognize it for what it is.

The Chiron / North Node (both in Aries) conjunction is tightening, and during this early stage of Pluto in Aquarius, we need to recognize how valuable it is to finally deal with our deepest inner traumas, as this will ultimately go beyond each of us, to benefit the collective. We can do our parts to heal the collective, by healing within. We can build power through our inner wounds, and with the warrior power of Aries, inspire others to soldier on in their own shadow work. Real breakthroughs can be had along with the energy of this new moon.

The Moon also trines Vesta in Gemini, providing a harmonic energy of ones inner world in relation to the outer world. When we create sacred spaces within, creating a sanctuary of the self, we really do inspire others to do the same, and to move forward in their own healing.

The Aquarius stellium we have at this time urges us to find unconventional ways to do all of the necessary work towards the liberation of ourselves, and by extension all of humanity.

[wyrmfedgrave]

Pics:

1. Detailed & yet clear, Skartaris map.

2. Travis Morgan explains the Hollow Earth Theory - to friends & readers!

3. Mike Grell's cover artwork. Note Deimos rising out of the background!

4. The women in Travis's life - from his daughter to Tara, his wife, to his catty companion to the werewolf's lover!

5. Most photo-realistic shot of the Warlord, in his best costume of all time! But, the sword is a soul stealer that he destroyed awhile back!!

6 thru 8. Travis likes the life of a swashbuckler to that of a ruler. So, in that respect, he's different from Conan & King Kull. He's more like Solomon Kane, forever seeking a new 'crusade'...

1906: The Earth (is) Not Hollow.

Intro: DC's Warlord is an American comic book series about Travis Morgan adventuring in a Hollow Earth.

Plot: Travis was an Air Force pilot & Vietnam War vet who crash lands in the Inner World of Skartaris.

This is a land of advanced ancient tech, dinos, an eternal noon; plus, swords & sorcery!

In his fight to survive, he becomes involved with Shamballah's princess, befriends several shapeshifters (one turns into a cat; the other is a Russian werewolf!) & fights for the freedom of folk from tyranny!!

Yet, Travis avoided becoming the ruler of Skartaris, as he prefers life as an adventurer...

Homages to Edgar Rice Burroughs' Pellucidar & John Carter of Mars abound thruout the Warlord series.

But, it has the breadth to include some rarities.

In 1 story arc (#84), Travis becomes President of a dystopian future USA!

He even meets the Skartarian version of Death (#14) & escapes her scantily clad embrace - for now!!

During this adventure, Travis learns that he's the latest incarnation in a legacy of legendary heroes!

This relevation gives him the resolve to deny Death's 'allure!'

Given the chance to go home, Travis always chooses to remain in Skartaris.

And, when he has the opportunity to live in peace, Travis always passes it up. Mostly, because he's an adrenaline junkie...

It all sounds as being quite apart from the regular DC timeline. But, nothing could be further from the truth.

The Warlord has appeared thruout the DC Multiverse: in Crisis on Infinite Earths, Aquaman, Green Arrow, Teen Titans, Convergence, etc.

BTW, Travis has a sorceress daughter & a once young son - who's now heir to Shamballah's throne.

And, there's also multiple versions of Travis out in the alternate timelines of the DC Multiverse...

What we're still trying to figure out is if Shakira is more cat than human...

Criticism: There's a tradition, in comic books, of self-contained series that are a passion project for its creator.

Warlord is such a work.

Grell's series is a masterful blend of classic sword & sorcery themes, mixed up with the sci-fi tropes of Jules Verne & Edgar Rice Burroughs!

All the stories & art are excellent thruout Grell's run. The writer-artist's sheer joy in handling the characters is quite evident.

And, though it contains Hollow Earth & Land That Time Forgot tropes, this is a fully realized fantasy world.

The story unfolds slowly, like an illustrated novel. It's all wonderfully done - with special attention given to the beautiful, but, deadly ladies in his 'orbit.'

Weird Shit: Grell has admitted that his version of Green Arrow is actually the same character as his Warlord.

The reason for this is that Grell patterns his creations - as fantastic versions of himself!

Notes: There's been some minor changes made so that Skartaris can function within the larger DC Multiverse.

Otherwise, this Inner World would be affected by every event that occurred 'topside.'

Yet, Skartaris is too connected to exist solely by itself. I mean Apokalips once invaded it - looking for some mineral!!

Logically, it should be an alternate, magical plane - like Gemworld or the Land of the Nightshades...

Plot wise, this is made possible by the creation of the Paths Beyond in the 1st Shadowpact run.

This also fits in with the knowledge that time "flows differently" within Skartaris.

It's what allowed Tinder, Travis's son, to grow to adulthood & become heir to Shamballah.

There's some kind of accelerated time force involved here...

Output: Mike Grell created The Warlord for First Issue Special #8 in 1974.

Warlord became a series in 1976 & lasted 133 issues & 6 Annuals!

Grell wrote & drew the 1st 52 issues. Then, Sharon (his wife) wrote the title til issue #71 & Grell only drew the covers.

This was while Grell wrote Starslayer, Jon Sable, Freelance & other works.

(All being great work that you should find & read...)

Afterwards, The Warlord returned in various series in 1992, 2006 & 2009!

Sadly, the 2006 series was so bad - it got cancelled after 10 issues. This run is usually ignored in modern DC continuity.

Grell returned in 2009.

His new series revealed that Travis hasn't aged since he arrived during the 1970s!!

This 'timelessness' affects everything in Skartaris...

Like, Deimos keeps coming back for revenge. But, always in worst shape than before!

From having a scarred face to being a mere skull - on a golem's body!!

Also, Tara's death (in the 1992 series) was 'reversed.'

In the 2006 series, Travis got his Warlord title after leading a successful revolt of gladiator-slaves!

Skartaris was also retconned to be an alternate dimension, rather than being a 'normal' Hollow Earth.

And then, there's the 'original' Travis.

You know, the Warlord who led most of Skartaris's folks & animals in an exodus - to avoid dying at the final destruction of their world!!

They're still 'living' out there in the 'wild' - somewhere...

[jdgo51]

How Great Thou Art

Today's inspiration comes from:

The Faith of Elvis

by Billy Stanley & Kent Sanders

"'Why do larger-than-life people like Elvis do what they do?

Why do they go through the difficult process of trying to build a career? Why live with the unpredictability of fame and success on a large scale? Why put yourself out there so people can criticize your every move? Why try to reinvent yourself every decade or so?

Every artist has their own answers. Elvis loved music. He loved the audiences. He loved performing. He loved his fans. He loved the opportunity to help others because he was in a privileged position.

But there was one overriding reason he did what he did.

Elvis was a man on a mission. It wasn’t about having a career or creating the next album, concert, or movie gig. He saw what he did as a spiritual calling.

The apostle Paul had a mission too. He laid it out in Romans 1:14–17:

I am obligated both to Greeks and non-Greeks, both to the wise and the foolish. That is why I am so eager to preach the gospel also to you who are in Rome.

For I am not ashamed of the gospel, because it is the power of God that brings salvation to everyone who believes: first to the Jew, then to the Gentile. For in the gospel the righteousness of God is revealed—a righteousness that is by faith from first to last, just as it is written: “The righteous will live by faith.”

Paul preached the gospel from every imaginable place in the ancient world. Sometimes his “stage” was a Jewish synagogue, a prison cell, a ship, or even Mars Hill in the city of Athens. Elvis shared the same mission of spreading God’s love. But he chose to share it through music.

Elvis started doing live concerts again after his 1968 TV special on NBC (the ’68 Comeback Special). That whole experience was an experiment to see if crowds would still respond to Elvis. And indeed they did! Soon afterward, Elvis booked a residency at the new Hilton in Las Vegas. He interspersed these residencies with concert tours around the country.

In 1973, Elvis performed his famous Aloha from Hawaii TV special and included “How Great Thou Art” in the set list. This was his way of showing he was a true believer.

He recognized that his ministry was his music. It was the only way he knew to get his message out. Evangelism has always been challenging for people of faith. Even in the earliest days of the church, not every person who heard the gospel became a believer. Nothing had changed in nearly two thousand years — some believed, and some wouldn’t. Elvis knew he had a much better shot at sharing God’s love through the art form of music.

Why music? Music touches the heart directly. It goes straight to the emotions and moves people in a way that a sermon or lesson never could. Elvis was committed to using this powerful tool to reach as many people as possible.

Elvis recognized that his ministry was his music. It was the only way he knew to get his message out.

Elvis also wanted to avoid the judgmental attitudes he saw in so much of the Christian world.

It’s hard to step on anyone’s toes or cast a judgmental attitude when you’re singing about God’s love and grace. His job was to put the message out there. His audience’s job was to decide to either accept or reject the message. The funny thing is that it was probably pretty hard for a nonbeliever to reject the message of God’s love when they saw how much the gospel moved Elvis.

There was something different about him when he sang gospel songs. The gospel message had changed him. He wanted the same change for his audience. When you let God in, something miraculous happens in your heart.

Or as Elvis would say, “That’s God knocking on your door. Are you going to answer it?”

Although Elvis recorded numerous albums of gospel music, he didn’t see the gospel message as only contained within traditional gospel songs. A lot of the songs he used were not gospel songs, but they contained a message of inspiration, encouragement, or spirituality. Songs such as “Why Me, Lord?” and “You Gave Me a Mountain” all contained important messages Elvis wanted to share. If you listen to them with an open heart and an open ear, you’ll see these songs are talking about faith.

Elvis has sometimes been criticized for not writing his own songs. Many other artists of his era — indeed, most of the popular ones — wrote many if not all of their own music. Elvis’s main gift was not in writing songs, but in recognizing and selecting amazing songs that aligned with his worldview and message. Then he would put his own spin on them, adding something special and unique in the process.

For example, his rendition of Simon and Garfunkel’s “Bridge over Troubled Water” is very different from the original. Yet the message is the same: the singer is telling the listener to give him their troubles and woes. He will lay himself down to be their bridge so they can make it across in a time of trouble.

If you take a moment to listen to Elvis’s version, it is obvious he wasn’t faking it. He meant every word. He wanted to be like Jesus, getting people through a hard situation. His whole life was focused on helping people and sharing love. It was the perfect song for him.

These kinds of songs were not straight-up gospel songs. They were not necessarily written from a Christian viewpoint. However, Elvis turned them around and used them to express his love and faith. He wanted to get people focused on the Lord. Sometimes you have to do that in indirect ways.

Gospel wasn’t just a style of music Elvis incorporated into his concerts or used to fulfill his recording contracts. It was also his heart language and a way to unwind after the emotional high of a concert.

When Elvis came off the stage, he would be so wound up with energy that it was impossible to turn it off. He never gave a half-hearted performance. Even if he felt something could be musically a little better, or he was unhappy with some small aspect of a concert, he never gave anything less than 100 percent of his energy.

Giving out all this energy affected him. You would think he would be exhausted, but it was the exact opposite. All the love and affection he had just put out to the audience was now coming back to him, and it filled him.

The only way he knew how to come down from this high was to sing gospel. Elvis would gather with some people in his hotel suite, usually with the gospel quartet that accompanied him onstage, and one of the guys from the band would sit down at the piano and get started. Because Elvis would be there for weeks at a time, he would have the hotel bring in a piano during his stay there. Elvis was bringing in a massive amount of money for them, so they would do whatever he asked.

They would sing gospel songs until the sun came up or until Elvis said, “I’m ready to go to bed.” They would sit up there for hours, and people would come up after the show. It was almost like a second concert. After the midnight show, Elvis would invite people up and they would go on for hours. People would stand around and listen or they would mingle in the suite.

One of the songs I heard frequently in these post-concert settings was “Lighthouse.” In an unusual move, Elvis chose not to be the main singer. He did add some vocals, but his background vocalist Donnie Sumner sang the lead. If you watch the documentary Elvis: That’s the Way It Is, you’ll see Elvis and the group singing “Lighthouse.”

There is a fascinating story from 1 Samuel 16 that tells how King Saul was being tormented by an evil spirit the Lord had allowed to come upon him. Unbeknownst to Saul, young David had been anointed as the next king, and it was only a matter of time before he would replace Saul.

Ironically, David was also in the service of King Saul. One of Saul’s servants had heard about David’s ability to play the lyre and had recruited David to perform for the king. First Samuel 16:23 says,

Whenever the spirit from God came on Saul, David would take up his lyre and play. Then relief would come to Saul; he would feel better, and the evil spirit would leave him.

This story reminds me of the power of music to soothe and comfort in all kinds of circumstances. For Elvis, gospel music played much the same role. He took refuge and found comfort in this sacred music, long after the lights of the stage had faded and into the wee hours of the morning."'

Excerpted with permission from The Faith of Elvis by Billy Stanley, copyright Billy Stanley.