#and considerably more moronic

[navree]

thank god cori bush lost cuz that means i no longer have to see her stupid antics in the news

[saintkevorkian]

[silverserpent]

actually case in point. a quote. i wroted this

“I’ll leave you to it.” And just like that, he went on, probably to get some statement from someone, as if everything was alright.

It wasn’t alright, really. The Mimic was still loose, they were still investigating on what actually happened. But, looking at the balloons finally settling on the ceiling, things felt alright; the mundane, the silly and the colorful were just as alive and well as before.

...look the character who went through this much hardship gets comforted by the simple joys of life, bringing the conclusion that, despite the haedships, the small joys not only still exist but provide comfort.

this is TMA fanfic with Tim and Sasha. fanfic of low horror. oh look. how low brow.

"Elevated horror" is becoming the new elitist fancypants industry term du jour I'm seeing all over the place so I wanna make it abundantly clear that I only write shit, I only write popular garbage and potboilers, and you're all just jealous of my jetpack.

[thebearer]

please please please need a part two of the fight blurb 😭 what happens next 😭😭😭

should i make it into a full fic omg?? maybe?? lol

but on the real, i think that he would have to take a leave from the restaurant, which truthfully, everyone needed. this is just what broke him. the one time he actually tries to deal with his shit and not just blow up, get embarrassed, try to make it up, and repeat the cycle with no real change. i mean, you took his babies? anchovy and teddy. you're not returning his calls. richie, fak, and sweeps are alternating wellness check watches because they're terrified he's going to hurt himself, especially after the way he spiraled when he found your wedding ring.

he knows where you're at. he managed to become technologically savvy all of a sudden and figured out how to see your location, that you shared with him when you first started dating. fak wouldn't let him take his car. richie had put him on a full blown "psych ward type shit" lockdown until he "got his shit together, cousin".

"richie said-"

"-richie's a fuckin' moron, give me my fucking keys, fak!"

"carmen," fak frowns. "i-i can't."

so carmen walked. he walked to sugar and pete's house. nearly an hour walk through chicago. smoking so much he felt sick.

pete answered the door, face falling as soon as he saw carmen.

"carm, h-hey, man-"

"-where is she?" carmen wasn't interested on any sort of small talk, tunnel visioned to get to you.

"uh, i-i don't-"

"-pete, i really don't want you to fuck with me right now, alright." carmen took a deep breath, throat burning with tears. "i need to see- i-i need to see her pete." he couldn't bring himself to even say your name.

a tiny meow came from behind pete, anchovy skippering towards carmen with bright eyes, tail raised. it made carmen's jaw clench, tears blurring his vision. he knew you had to be close by. looking at the time, you were probably feeding teddy, maybe putting her down for a nap. he should have been more considerate, came later in the day, carmen thought.

pete looked at the cat, down the hall, then back at carmen. "carm..." pete hesitated, gripping the door, letting it shut gently, shielding something behind him. "you know i can't."

"what the fuck? pete that's- just let me in." anger surged through carmen's chest, trying to swallow it down. all he'd been was angry. angry and sick and distraught, a never ending cycle for weeks, just amplified by your leaving.

"you want to get her back? quit actin' like a goddam baby." richie sneered one night, just days ago, when carmen was especially awful and mean. "quit actin' like this isn't your fuckin' fault. like you didn't do this to yourself. take some fuckin' accountability, grow the fuck up, and get your motherfuckin' shit together. and maybe-maybe you'll get your family back."

carmen turned, running a hand over his face, trying to calm himself. keep himself from crying, from screaming, from pushing pete down and running back there so he could see you himself- throw himself at your feet and beg for forgiveness.

"pete, please? please?" carmen's voice wobbled, breaking gently. "please l-let me talk to her. just let me- let me tell her i'm sorry. don't-"

"-carmen?" sugar's voice came from behind pete. her face dropped, different than pete's, her's was angry. "what the fuck are you doing here?"

"why do you think i'm here, natalie? huh?-"

"-oh, you've got a lot of fucking nerve showing up here." natalie sneered, pulling the door open and stepping out. "pete, go inside."

"nat-"

"-i got it." natalie hissed, eyes narrowing at carmen. she waited until pete left, shaking her head at him. "you should be fucking ashamed-"

"-i am-"

"-mortified." sugar continued. "do you know what i came home to the other night? i came home to pete taking care of your baby because your wife came here sobbing- sobbing, because you screamed at her? what the fuck is wrong with you? huh?"

"i don't know." carmen's voice was tight, fighting a tremble. "i-i don't fuckin' know. i didn't- i-i didn't mean-" a tear fell, the final crack in his demeanor. carmen wasn't sure how he had tears left, how he could sob anymore. yet here he was, on his sister's porch, tears flowing again.

sugar didn't comfort him, didn't move, just watched him through glaring eyes. "please let me s-see her. let me se-ee teddy, sugar, don't-don't keep my kid from me-"

"-i'm not keeping your kid from you." sugar snapped. "i didn't take teddy away. you know who did? you. you did carmen."

carmen flinched, he knew it was true but it still stung. "i know you don't remember dad very well, but you're acting just like him." sugar sneered.

"and before you try and come up with an excuse-"

"-i-i'm not-"

"-i want you to know, that every day. every single fucking day, there's days i want to drink myself to sleep. that mj or maggie make me want to pull my hair out and scream, or pete does something that infuriates me, but you know what i don't do?" sugar stepped towards carmen, arms still crosses. "i don't yell at them, i don't drink myself incoherent, i don't fucking act like mom or dad because i know how that felt." sugar jabbed a finger in her chest, eyes holding carmen's gaze intensely.

"i know how that fucked me up, i know how it fucked them up, how it fucked you and mikey up too- how it fucked everything in our fucking life up!" natalie laughed humorlessly. "and the last thing, the very last thing i would want, is to do that to pete, to my kids, to anyone."

carmen felt sick and yet eerily calm all at once. his chest was tight, he was sure he couldn't breathe, but he couldn't stop listening. a damning realization- a shameful one.

"you need to make up your mind, right here, right now, before you see anyone else." natalie stepped back towards the door. "you need to decide if you're going to continue to be a selfish piece of shit, or if you're going to change. and i can tell you, change is uncomfortable- it's not easy. you have to fight for it every single day. but i would rather do that than not have my family."

she looked down at carmen, twisting the knob. "you decide that, then maybe- maybe you can see them." carmen flinched at the door slamming behind her, not moving from his place on the porch, head in his hands.

fak showed up nearly an hour later, wide eyed and rambling about "how the fuck did you just leave? i was playing ball buster and-and then you're gone-"

carmen ignores him, sliding into the car slowly. "carmen?"

"you uh," carmen's voice is hoarse, staring straight ahead. "you said that, uh, that richie's got.... got someone for me to talk to?"

fak blinks, nodding slowly. "the therapist? yeah-"

"-take me there." carmen looks over at sugar's house. he isn't sure if it's his imagination or not, but for a moment he swears he can see you, peeking through the blinds.

"a-are you ok?" fak is worried, a little rattled at the sudden change. especially since carmen had been so adamant about not seeing "your stupid fuckin' therapist, richie, clearly she's no fuckin' good because look at you! you're still fucked up!" carmen's enraged words from days ago.

"no," carmen admits, throat swelling with a growing lump. "but, uh, i-i wanna be." he admits quietly, looking over at fak. "i gotta get my shit together, fak. i-i gotta be better for them."

fak doesn't deny it, doesn't console him. just goes quiet with a nod, driving away. carmen watches sugar's house disappear in the rearview, his heart aching, breaking, but he knows natalie is right. he knows he'll be back once he's better, that he has to be better. for teddy. for you. for your family.

[yandere-daydreams]

tw - none. live dove: tender and sweet.

“I didn’t think I’d see you here, old friend.”

Xianyun startled, stiffened, but recovered quickly – keeping her expression schooled and impassive as the so-called ‘mortal’ man, Zhongli, took a seat beside her. “You must have the wrong person, stranger,” she responded, eventually, never so much as glancing in his direction. “I’m sure we’ve never met.”

Zhongli let out a breath of a laugh. “A chance encounter, then – of two souls who must’ve known each other in a past life.” He paused, following her gaze. It was trained with an almost violent intensity towards you, the young tailor comparison fabric samples dutifully on the opposite side of the small shop. He’d only come to retrieve a set of burial garments Wangsheng Funeral Parlor had employed you to modify, but her unexpected presence had been a welcome surprise. “Although, I can’t say it seems like you choose this destination on a whim.”

She straightened, crossing her arms over her chest with an indignant huff. “When one is preparing oneself for a reemergence into society, one cannot be caught unprepared. Clothes, although often seen as frivolous expenditures, can be the defining factor in the success of one’s reintroduction.”  

“And I suppose,” Zhongli started, with a thoughtful hum. “That your own skill as a seamstress has waned in the past century?”

“Don’t be moronic.” It was an instinctual rebuttal, cutting and concise, only slightly undercut by the way she pursed her lips. “In spite of one’s own considerable talent, it’s not unwise to seek a professional opinion when unsure of modern fashions.”

“A professional opinion, which could only be found in one of the smallest shops in Liyue Harbor run by perhaps the most inexperienced—”

Her elbow jutted out, spearing Zhongli’s side and cutting him off as you approached – cradling a rolled bolt of fabric the color of the sky as it approached midnight, two strips of teal satin and black lace thrown over your shoulder. “I’m sorry for the delay, miss. We just received the loveliest dendrobium-treated silk from Inazuma, and—” You seemed to notice Zhongli for the first time, greeting him with a quick nod and a bright smile. “Zhongli, sir! I have your order in my workshop – I can grab it for you now.” And then, to Xianyun, “Do you mind if we take your measurements when I get back, Miss Xianyun?”

“Of course, dear. Take all the time you need.” For the first time, her eyes fell away from you and to the fabric in your arms, her head lulling gently to the side. “Its beauty is truly wonderous to behold.”

You really were charming, in all your obliviousness. With an enthusiastic nod and a few more words of praise to your supplies, you were off to your workshop to retrieve Zhongli’s materials. As soon as you’d disappeared behind the curtained doorway, he turned to Xianyun. “Its beauty is truly wonderous to behold,” he repeated, melodically. “I didn’t know you were such a poet, dear friend.”

“One more word,” she took a sharp breath, glaring daggers at the furthest wall. “And I will turn ever statue of Rex Lapis in this archon-forsaken nation to dust.”

Zhongli only grinned, leaning back with a slight hum.

At least Ganyu would be happy to know her mentor was seeking more youthful companionship.

[nohaijiachi]

I got randomly recommended this video by YT and wrote a ginormous comment in response because I have no self control, apparently, so I thought I might as well also share my thoughts here in regard to whatever is going with THIS FUCKING SMILE

(under a cut to not clog y'alls dashboards)

(the first part of the comment here is a direct response to some of the ideas put forth in the video, it is very short so give it a quick watch for more context if you want)

Imo it's not necessary to look into overcomplicated theories that rely too much on off screen shenanigans to explain the smile, for how amusing the idea of them having swapped during the kiss is (like, the kind of stuff I won't want to be actually canon, but I'll be very happy to see explored in fan fics lol)

I think to fully explain that smile we have to take in consideration multiple factors:

This show is very purposeful in what it does and doesn't, well... show. That last shot is very long and I think the fact that Aziraphale's and Crowley's expressions in the aftermath of their disastrous break up is shown in such a manner tells us a LOT about the state of mind they might be at the start of S3, and the obstacles they'll have to face. Aziraphale doesn't immediately smile, rather he seems to look almost shell-shocked for most of the shot; it's clear (to me at least lol) that the quiet ride up the elevator is finally giving him some desperately needed time to fully digest everything that happened, because too much has happened in an extremely short amount of time, and we all know Aziraphale doesn't do well with speed lol.

But, for how much he can sometimes be a complete moron, he is smart, and all he needs are just those seconds of quiet to properly ponder on everything, on the choices made and the ramifications of said choices, and that's how we get to smile-- I'll delve into what I think Aziraphale is going through in his mind in more details later, because I also think it's necessary to focus a bit on Crowley's own expression, since the both of them are so intrinsically linked that the narrative cannot make sense without taking the both of them into account.

Crowley's expression is much more static and doesn't change the way Aziraphale's does; he looks profoundly tired in ways we've never seen him before. I don't think he's giving up on Aziraphale, and I fully believe the fact that he stood there and waited for Aziraphale to disappear in the elevator, the both of them sharing that last look, was a quiet message: He'll never give up on Aziraphale, he'll be there, waiting. But wait is all he can do for Aziraphale, now, because he can't follow where Aziraphale is going.

For how messy and full of heightened emotions the confession + kiss are, I think actually denying Aziraphale's request was a HUGE step forward for Crowley's character. He's never been able to deny Aziraphale, he always went back to him after every fight, and we all know how stupidly whipped for Aziraphale he is and how he'd empty the ocean with a spoon if Aziraphale asked him nicely-- But to actually put his foot down and say "no, I cannot do this for you" when asked to all but renounce the person he is now? Especially with how Aziraphale is all but begging him openly? That's a huge step, and something I think Crowley desperately needs to mature as a person (or, well, person-shaped being). We all love how Aziraphale has him wrapped around his little finger I'm sure, but we also all know that if they truly want to build a strong, healthy relationship they also both need to be able to keep their individuality and to put forth adequate boundaries about what they are willing to do for each other within reason.

Asking Crowley to come back to being an angel when he's made blatantly clear for six thousand bloody years how much he despises Heaven is not a 'within reason' request, innit?

So, yeah, for how heartbreaking the break-up was, in a sense Crowley needs it. They both do. They both need time apart to figure their own shit out, dismantle all those unhealthy habits they had to adopt in order to be with one another as safely as they possibly could while still 'employed', and then come back together with a clearer mind and a whole deal stronger than before, both as individuals and as a couple.

And I think how tired and downtrodden Crowley looks in that last shot is a precursor to this process, just as much as Aziraphale's smile is... So, let me get back to our favorite angel and what I personally think is going on with him.

I think to properly contextualize that smile we need to look at not just the happening of those infamous last fifteen minutes, but of S2 as a whole, and what Aziraphale does in it.

So, what is Aziraphale doing during S2?

At the start he seems to be more or less comfortably settled in his current life; he's as happy as ever doing what he's always done, enjoying humanity's creativity with his books and his music and his food and drinks, seemingly content to be puttering about in his bookshop (which is a stark contrast with Crowley's homelessness and his kinda adrift and depressed attitude). Of course then Jim!Gabriel throws a wrench right into that, but imo I think there was a lot more going on behind the facade of Aziraphale's well ingrained habits.

Sure, he still has all of his familiar comforts and his routine, but from the moment we see him interact with Crowley I saw a deep restlessness emerge in him: The panicked look he launches Crowley when Nina asks him about his 'naked man friend', the way he speaks with Crowley with all those 'our' he uses, the blatant way he keeps reaching over and touching Crowley-- To me that suggests that Aziraphale is clearly not as happy as he seems to be on a superficial glance. He clearly wants more with Crowley, wants to bring their relationship to the next step, but because the both of them are so deeply entrenched in their unhealthy coping mechanisms and habits and their inability to openly communicate it doesn't even occur to Aziraphale to just... You know. Take the first step, actually say something about it. So he just keeps throwing bait after bait in the water, hoping Crowley will bite and be the one taking the initiative as he's always done, finally allowing Aziraphale to accept said initiative, this time around.

Of course, we all see that Crowley doesn't take any first step, which is probably something deeply frustrating for Aziraphale at a subconscious level. That's how we get the ball; sure, on the face of it it was Aziraphale's way to make Nina and Maggie fall in love, but... Was it, really? Let's be real, for how entirely believable it is that Aziraphale makes up the lie about Nina and Maggie's love to cover for their miracle is, since we've seen him being anxious around other angels, I don't think for a second that had Aziraphale just stopped and spent three minutes thinking about it he wouldn't have found a way to convince Muriel that Nina and Maggie were, in fact, in love, especially with how 'green' Muriel is about humans.

I fully believe that Aziraphale is not properly thinking during S2, period. He's frustrated by his inability to bring his and Crowley's relationship to what he wants it to be, and that frustration and single-minded objective is utterly obfuscating his thought process. There are plenty of moments he seemed almost manic, imo, which I read as another sign about his 'impaired' (allow me the term) state of mind as of S2.

So, yes, the ball: On the face of it something to actually turn his lie to the Archangels into truth, but deeper down, perhaps almost unconsciously, I think Aziraphale sees the ball as a way to finally make him and Crowley happen. That fact that he's taking pointers about romance from human literature is blatant, and obviously he truly does believe the ball will be THE way to make love bloom.

If you stop and think about it, the ball scene is terrifying. These people are being manipulated to play the perfect background parts to make, what is in Aziraphale's mind, the height of romance atmosphere happen. The fact we get a juxtaposition with Nina's "what the F is going on, am I losing my mind???" rightful attitude underlines this. And I truly believe Aziraphale isn't exerting said manipulation with intent, but rather doing so subconsciously, because he's just so fixated on the idea of having finally the perfect set-up to have Crowley as he desires that he is influencing everything around him. After all, we all know they both have the tendency of making things happen the way they want simply by thinking that's how things are supposed to happen.

And again, he's so manic and giddy when he asks Crowley to dance, his ass is not LISTENING. He literally needed a brick thrown through a window to snap out of it.

So, in the present we have an Aziraphale who , in his own way, is trying to take the initiative, come out with plans. There is a moment that I think might have slipped under the radar of a lot of people but that's frightfully important about who Aziraphale is at this point in the story, and who he will need to become: "I have a plan," Aziraphale said to Crowley during the stare down with the demons outside of the bookshop after the ruined ball; Crowley didn't even seem to have registered that sentence at all, because his mind is already projected forward and going a mile a minute about what to do to keep both the humans and Aziraphale safe in this situation.

Crowley, who loves to swoop in and save Aziraphale, doing what he's always done to keep his angel safe, even to the detriment of their relationship with one another... And Aziraphale, who adores playing the part of the damsel in distress in turn, is actually telling Crowley that *he has a plan*.

That's not something to take lightly, methinks. That's very much just another sign that Aziraphale's individuality is struggling, trying to emerge through Aziraphale's anxiety and doubts and fears and deeply ingrained habits. Aziraphale's cognitive dissonance in regards to heaven, and his shaken faith in God are huge motivators of his actions, and in the grand scheme of things the scant few years he had away from under the oppressive thumb of heaven is nothing. It was barely any time at all in the face of the eternity of an immortal life spent under that oppression, and yet we are already seeing little glimpses of Aziraphale's rebellious side struggling to get fully free.

I think these little glimpses inform us at great lengths about the evolution Aziraphale's character will go through in S3, and greatly explains that strange smile right at the end; in my opinion that smile isn't the smile of someone who's trying to convince himself that he's ok, or realizing that Crowley loves him (he knew already, they both knew and have known for a long time, their inability to properly express those feelings was their downfall, but I don't think either of them has doubted even for a second when it comes to how much they love one another). In my opinion that smile is the smile of someone who is steeling himself for what he envisions in his future; equal parts old-sedated anxiety and yet determination to actually enact plans he's surely concocting in his brilliant little mind. That's the smile of someone who has just realized that not only they can, but that they need to do something, and you can damn well be sure they won't be sitting and twiddling their thumbs waiting to be saved, but they'll be the one saving themselves and everybody else along with 'em, this time.

Just as Crowley needs to actually spend some time define himself as himself, and not just in relation to Aziraphale, Aziraphale needs to spend some time shedding all those fears and doubts that are weighing him down, and emerge the other side someone much more self-assured and ready to do what he thinks is right without all the hesitations that have indirectly been strengthened by Crowley; in a way, by allowing Aziraphale an out with his 'temptations', Crowley had been feeding into those hesitations, and had been holding Aziraphale back from fully maturing, even if not done on purpose, obviously. Imo is very important for Aziraphale's character that he comes to realize that he doesn't need those excuses Crowley gifted him to keep doing what he thinks is right, that he actualizes his own morality properly, and enacts on it.

I don't have the faintest clue about what is going to happen in S3, but I do fully believe the above paragraph is what Aziraphale and Crowley's respective character arcs will focus on. And once they'll come back together they'll be the most power couple that has ever power coupl-ed, and the Metatron will have no clue about what is about to hit him >:)

[dreamsinmoonlight]

Angel Massages

(Welp as promised, the sequel to Angel Cocoon, as voted on by the public. Rejoice!

Definitely didn't write most of this with my Adam plush on my lap, don't know what you're talking about

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Characters: Adam, angel!reader

Pairing: Adam x reader

Genre: Comfort, fluff (this time with a tiny bit more spice)

Summary: You deserve a medal for loving this idiot as much as you do. Aka Adam gets a massage and care.)

“This is your own fault you big goof.” The grumble you got in response was expected.

Mornings in heaven, with a lover like Adam, were pretty routine: you woke up, you found yourself encased in a cocoon of feathers and slightly squishy flesh, you'd end up laying there until finally the man himself decided to wake up, and then this. Without fail he woke up, blinking in that lazy sleepy way of his, and took note of your presence; this then turned into him giving one of those smug grins of his and holding you closer, rubbing his face against yours. This as always caused you to whine and complain, playfully of course, because of his stubble and you pushed at him to no avail as he stretched out his wings and you finally were able to a) see your room and b) get up.

“What babe, don't like a little early morning affection?” he asked, as if he didn't know exactly why you were trying to get free; he snickered and one hand found it's way further down, trailing down your body with obvious intent, “Maybe you'd prefer it a different way?”

Adam snickered and stuck out that tongue of his and you did your best to resist him, pushing at his chest. He was considerably larger and stronger than you, meaning he could easily hold you in place if he so wished, but he decided to be kind enough to let you get free and you shook your head at him. “You're incorrigible I swear.”

This made him laugh, and to say the sound of it didn't do things to you would be a lie. But you knew what was coming and like clockwork it did; he laughed and his wings stretched and then his expression turned annoyed and grumpy when the effects of sleeping with his wings wrapped around you two inevitably hit him. The soreness caused him to start whining loudly and lower the appendages, practically dragging them on the bed.

You sighed softly and climbed out of his lap, watching and listening to your giant manchild of a boyfriend complain. “Lay down already, Adam.”

“My wings are so sore,” he groaned, with the kind of tone you'd expect of if he was dying; it had occurred to you a while ago that to him, any sort of inconvenience was no different than that, a fact you were not sure if it was him exaggerating or actually so. It was always hard to tell.

You did your best to try not to laugh or smile too much at how he was acting, it tended to make him act out more and honestly you just wanted to make him feel better quickly so he'd go back to being his usual smug, grinning self. Again you sighed and got up, stepping around the bed to gently try to push him forward. “Adam, come on, please lay down.”

He continued his complaining but eventually did as you instructed, laying down with his wings stretched out. The first time you did this you had been struck with the beauty of his wings, to the point of distraction honestly; it was hard to concentrate when you're faced with something so pretty as those golden feathers on those long thin wings. The bed, large as it was and it was fairly big, couldn't really handle the full length of them so while they were not folded persay, they weren't actually entirely stretched out. You though were used to that and so was the crybaby continuing to act like it was the end of the universe and his wings were going to fall off or something.

For the thousandth time you thought about how much you loved this stupid, reckless, egotistical moron but aloud told him how this was his own fault before taking one of the wings gently in your hands and starting to manipulate it. You'd done this enough times, you knew exactly where to press and where to knead, and you couldn't resist smiling as you felt those warm feathers under your fingertips, the muscles and tendons and bones that all made up those magnificent wings; you felt them twitch and move, responding to even the lightest touch from you. You started near the middle and went outwards towards the tips, easing the tension out little by little before going inward again, moving towards there they joined into his back. It was a seamless point, as it was on all angels you suspected, but you moved it nevertheless, the way the soft down of Adam's wings became the warmth of his flesh and back as you moved to the other wing. You took your time and you bit your lip as you heard his complaints and whines and moans turn from pained and irritated to far more pleased. Maybe a little too pleased.

���God babe, you know how to make me feel good,” he groaned and the slight rumble to his voice could be felt down below.

“I'm not done yet,” you warned, feeling him shift and move, knowing that Adam had only a few true virtues and patience was 100% not one of them.

“Then go faster.” Not a request, a demand, and one you were going to ignore no matter what he said or did or made you feel with that voice of his.

“And risk your wings still being sore later? Besides we both know you like it when I go slow with this.” You smiled, feeling a bit playful as you continued what had become your morning routine; currently working on his own wing, going slow and deliberate as usual, you pressed your fingers into one particular spot, reveling in the reaction you knew you'd get.

You'd found it entirely by accident the first time, a little after this whole thing started, and usually you did your best to avoid touching it too much for this exact reason. It seemed to send a shock of electricity through his whole body and the noise that came from him was best described as “fuck yes”; his wings shuddered and stretched to their full length, causing one side to end up over the side of the bed and brushing against the carpet and the other side to very nearly slam directly into the wall. You managed to keep that one folded enough to avoid that disaster, that would have been counterproductive. Adam buried his face in the sheets and you were certain you heard swearing, he hated that you knew about that spot and hated it even more that you weren't afraid to use it for your own amusement and delight. But probably, you were certain, he hated it the most that his ears turned bright red and were not so easy to hide. There was definitely some growling and you leaned down to place a kiss between his shoulder blades with an angelic smile. It was easy since you were indeed an angel.

The fact he behaved after that was a miracle you were certain but not one that was going to end well for you. You knew too well your boyfriend, and you knew that while patience wasn't his strong suit, vengeance was. You took your time with his wings, enjoying every second of peace you got from this, knowing full well of what would happen next and doing your best to mitigate the damage. You completed your ministrations upon his wings and were about to massage his back, usually a good idea considering, but your hands never got close to touching that space again.

Despite his size Adam was a dangerously quick creature. He was dangerous in many ways as you knew. And the glint in his golden eyes as he managed, with agility and speed one wouldn't easily expect from someone like him, to pin you under him, his hands holding your wrists to the bed, it was enough to send your heart rate racing.

“You're a naughty girl making me wait, sugartits,” he spoke, his teeth showing in the shark grin he had now, that he so often had, “Lets see how you like it.”

His teeth found your neck and you let out only the smallest of complaints. Maybe, just maybe, you shouldn't have teased him. Now it was going to be you who was sore.

Oh well.

[kaiserposting]

Michael Kaiser — Voyeur to Belonging

PAIRING: Michael Kaiser/Reader WORD COUNT: 5.3k TYPE: Humor, Slice of life/domestic fluff (its technically a roommate setting) WARNING(S): None? NOTE(S): Reader character is an alien. Yes you read that right. A shapeshifting alien of some sort. The narrative is non-linear

Birthday

There was a coconut on the kitchen counter top.

Kaiser was confused. Most days he was disoriented on account of your incomprehensible behavior anyway, but this was new. You stood there, caressing it, and he wasn’t really sure what it was supposed to achieve while he watched you. Of course, there was other bullshit too, but the coconut was the most attention grabbing.

He didn’t bother asking. He also didn’t bother announcing himself to begin with when he first entered, since he had come home not long ago, and mainly because he was impolite. It was fine because you didn’t have any standard conventions about courtesy.

Instead of raising any valid questions, he went to shower.

Not like he cared to converse — when he wouldn’t immediately see you upon entering, he’d walk around looking for you because the thought you disappeared somewhere without notice kind of irritated him, and then he’d spot you and he’d be calm again. And then he wouldn’t explain what it was all about. Maybe you thought it was some funny human behavior he was exhibiting. The notion was appealing.

Though Kaiser was a bit over the top and didn’t have much consideration towards the water bill which made showering an entire event for him, it couldn’t have taken that long for him to emerge. He still had the towel on by the time he stepped back into the kitchen, curiosity eating at him. What was the coconut for? Surely it was something moronic and frivolous, but he was too impatient to keep pretending inquiring was beneath him.

Any intrigue he was feeling dropped to the floor and dissolved into the puddle he’d created by moving around while still wet when his brain processed the sight in front of him.

There was… a lot of powder(?) everywhere. Mostly on the kitchen counter and then some.

“What the hell,” said Kaiser, gesturing. “What the hell are you doing?”

He didn’t really like getting angry over stupid shit like this, the kind of problem which could easily be fixed. It reminded him of his dad, but then again how the fuck was he supposed to stay calm in this situation. In the face of his own ire, Kaiser was nauseous.

You turned around to respond and seemed rather joyous. His jaw clenched further, his forehead wrinkled more.

“My preparations,” you said.

“Your preparations,” he repeated. “For what?”

“The cake.”

Kaiser pinched the bridge of his nose.

“The recipe said it needs ‘coconut-pecan frosting,’” you continued even though he did not want an elaboration.

It occurred to him what had happened. Usually it would be more obvious, but the shock was so severe, he didn’t contemplate the situation as he was focusing his energy on not blowing a gasket. “You can buy the ingredients for that at the store-”

“Well, I didn’t.”

“-not grind it down. Would you hunt and skin a fucking chicken in cold blood if you wanted to make wings?!” He was raising his voice now.

The volume grated on your nerves and you raised your hands as if to placate him, backing off. Your reaction didn’t mollify him in the slightest. “It’s more convenient and it costs no money.”

“How is it more convenient?” There was a loaded silence. Kaiser didn’t understand where you got a whole coconut to begin with, but that was besides the point. “Why were you trying to make a cake anyway? ‘Cause if it’s some shitty new hobby you’re taking up again, do it away from my house.”

You blinked at him twice in this slow, deliberate manner, scrutinizing him as if he was stupid for not understanding what the purpose of this was. Then you said, “For Micha’s birthday.”

Even though you’d flinched away from him and he kept yelling without a care, that was what it took for him to immediately deflate and feel like shit. If anything, he was flustered and unsure, all that bravado for naught. You wanted to celebrate with him — wanted to do something for him. Remembered the date, even. His hand wrapped around his throat unconsciously, albeit without squeezing.

It wasn’t an extraordinary or special occasion. You technically celebrated with him last year too, but you didn’t know what that was all about. Wherever you came from, you claimed birthday parties weren’t a ‘practice’ there. The two of you were similar, in a way.

“Listen, so, I looked up ‘German cake’ because you claimed you were from Germany. The website said to use coconut-pecan frosting.”

“I don’t claim I was from Germany, I really am, and I still am, it’s not past tense,” he said, trying to distract from his regret by nitpicking.

“Well, anyway,” you beamed at him, and then you reached out towards him, and then you embraced him with the skills of a natural, even though that was something else you said wasn’t a ‘practice,’ “happy birthday, Micha!”

He let go of his neck to stiffly wrap his arms around your back. There was coconut powder on your fingers still, and it was sticking to his bare skin in clumps and copious amounts because you were touching him since he was still wet. It was a funny ploy, intentional, like you were checking how far you could go with an abused dog, trying to see if it’s comfortable with you yet. If giving him affection was enough for him to overlook anything in the world.

Kaiser was enjoying your hug, but he didn’t say anything about it beyond an ungrateful sounding thanks after the birthday wish. It was obvious, though, in the way he held onto you tighter the moment you tried to separate from him.

“But what about the cake? Should I scrap it…?”

“You can burn down the kitchen if you want to,” allowed Kaiser, both generous and unwise. Imprudent in that he was trying to flex on an alien in a roundabout way — look, I am rich, I do not care about superficial things like the kitchen, and coming from the guy who almost threw a tantrum over it.

The development pleased you, however, because you cheered and pecked him on the cheek. He flushed under the attention. You always found it fascinating, the way his skin could change colors, even if the shift wasn’t so dramatic. “Yay,” you said as an afterthought, “I love fire.”

The experiment was a success. You could get away with pretty much anything as long as you played your cards right.

To Kaiser’s surprise, the cake even ended up coming out delicious. Again he did not compliment you on it.

Dye

Kaiser was in the bathroom, which was a place he spent a lot of time in. But instead of admiring himself (that was what he called his creepy staring at his reflection), he was doing something to his hair. He was applying a mysterious liquid to it and he’d tied it up strangely. You hoped it wasn’t a new look he was trying.

“Do you need something?” he asked, not looking at you.

You stepped closer. Not knowing how to formulate a more specific question on the matter, you asked, “What is this behavior?” and then gestured vaguely at what he was doing.

For a second, Kaiser halted in surprise at the strange wording. “I’m refreshing my dye.”

“Ah,” you said with a smile, “I thought it was natural?”

“Sorry you had to find out this way.”

“You are deceiving.”

“Hopefully it wasn’t too big of a heartbreak.”

“Are you insecure your hair isn’t blue, Micha?” you asked. “The advice columns always say you should just be yourself.”

There was a good chance you were mocking him, but due to the possibility you were genuinely concerned about him, he wrinkled his nose to make a show of his disdain towards your ignorance and said, “No, it’s not a self esteem thing. Who the fuck is insecure their hair isn’t blue?”

“Are you trying to signal you’re poisonous?”

“I’m not some shitty animal,” he said in earnest, even though this confirmed you were messing with him.

“Do you cut it by yourself too?”

“Yes.”

“Why, can’t you afford a barber?”

Kaiser’s eye twitched in irritation. “I don’t like strangers touching my head.” It came out sounding stupid in relation to a hairstylist, but he hoped you wouldn’t question it.

“Ah, ok.” You smiled in an unsettling way. Kaiser tried to concentrate. There was a long bout of silence before you delivered the next ego killer of a question, “If you cut it by yourself, why would you willingly shape it like that?”

“There’s nothing wrong with it.” He crossed his arms and tilted up his chin, upturning his nose in a snobby gesture, before he ran his fingers through his hair. “In fact, I think it’s unique and charming, and one of my best features.”

You grimaced as you watched. “Micha, you’re totally messing it up! Don’t move like that! It’s dripping everywhere and you’re getting it all over your fingers.”

He, too, blinked like an owl, and let go of his strands at a dramatically slow pace, and then he stared at the tips of his fingers coated in blue like they were burned. “Fuck.” Then he glanced at his reflection in the mirror and realized he had smeared dye where he was supposed to still be blond. “Fuuuuck.”

You stood there, useless. As sympathetic as you were to his predicament, you didn’t want to contribute anything.

Kaiser narrowed his gaze at you anyway and said, “Maybe instead of standing there distracting me, you should help me fix it.”

“Ah. The mystic workings of the concoction evade me.”

“They clearly don’t!”

You inched away from him until you were out of the door. Kaiser bared his teeth and glared at the spot even after you’d long vacated it.

Massage

Your human was ill-tempered and prone to sulking.

Often he was unhappy or had an attitude for no discernible reason. Most days, on average, he could find an opportunity to turn at least three interactions into something painful.

The internet was an unintelligent place, which made it easy to parse through (as long as you didn’t take everything said at face value, which you learned after you warned him that his deodorant was going to give him breast cancer; apparently people do not fact check before publishing and lying is not a punishable offense). All you had to do was type, and there — information. You were used to the more reliable system back home, but those networks had nothing to offer on this culture, so…

Anyway, you searched for inspiration for what you could do. It was obvious Kaiser was susceptible to kindness and you thought maybe you could coax him into being more pleasant, at least occasionally. So, what you looked up was ‘nice gestures.’

A lot of the results seemed impractical: babysit for free — you could not find a baby; donate — all the items in the house were his so you did not see the point of donating them to him; listen — you listened to him daily; acknowledge his efforts — he looked at you as if you were a weirdo when you started calculating the trajectory of that magnus-impact-whatever thingy and then gave him a fake diploma for a physics degree.

But then you came upon a sensible suggestion, which was to give a massage. It seemed applicable, since he was an athlete and all. Kaiser even agreed to it without making a fuss.

He was on his stomach, lying on the bed with his face half-hidden in the pillow so you wouldn’t be able to see if he did anything embarrassing. You sat on top of him and tried being gentle even though you were tempted to dig your fingers in his scapula just to check if he would scream. 

Things were going well, he was even relaxed, until you asked, “Hey Micha, do you get massages?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” Though they were usually the painful sports ones and he wasn’t about to admit to feeling pain in front of you or anything else embarrassing.

“Is it like some kind of mating ritual?”

“What the hell?” he asked, bemused. “Of course the fuck not.”

“So you’re not into the massage therapist?”

“No! Why would you think that? Do you find it erotic, you strange creature?”

“No. I watched this video where a bird was trying to seduce another bird with a silly little dance. Thought it might be something like that.”

“What kind of conclusion is that?” he asked. You could tell even through the muffle that he was gritting his teeth. You decided to massage his face after you’re done with this, since he made those ugly expressions so often and probably had tension. Maybe the rigidity was making him easy to vex. “I swear, you assume such stupid shit, it appalls me.”

Kaiser drifted off to sleep mid complaining about your apparent cluelessness and woke up in a good mood a few hours later. However, the bad side effect was that he started demanding massages any time he perceived things weren’t going his way, so then you had to think of a way to trick him out of his giving orders addiction.

Clothes

“I like wearing yours, though,” you whined. It was unbefitting for someone at a luxury store, but then again what did you care.

Kaiser’s eyebrows pinched together. It was obvious the employees were judging you both considering the brain dead conversation you’d been having, but he had a different problem entirely. Like a toddler who didn’t want to share his toys at the playground, he hissed, “They’re my clothes, not yours! I’ll get you some.”

You pouted. The action was extremely ungrateful and petulant considering not everyone had a celebrity begging to let them buy them expensive new clothes, but as already established, you didn’t care that you were trifling. “Is there a robe or something, at least?”

“No, there aren’t any robes.” He was already exhausted, squeezing his eyes shut and massaging his temples.

You rolled your eyes and faked a loud yawn.

“At least try one out.” Kaiser pulled out some random miscellaneous item from the rack you were arguing in front of and shoved it into your hands with this expectant look on his face.

Deciding to humor him, you moved to strip. Thankfully it didn’t come to that since Kaiser stopped you, pulling your top back down before you’d even gotten to exposing your midriff.

“You’re uncivilized. Go to the changing rooms.”

“Such a pathetic, prudish society,” you said as if everyone else was wrong. From your perspective it was probably true.

“It’s not prudish, it’s called public indecency and I don’t want to associate with a reprobate.”

“That’s a new one, Micha! I haven’t heard it before.”

He rolled his eyes and ushered you in the direction of the changing rooms. His gaze followed after you while you meandered there, disinterest in the affair palpable. Ingrate.

Kaiser picked a few more clothes he wanted to see you try on. When he turned around, the assistant nearby was looking at him strangely. He remained stoic and went on standing tall and proud as if she was the weird one.

Origin

Kaiser liked to brood on the balcony because he thought that was a productive and angsty activity, fit for a troubled intellectual. You did not understand the point (or even what he was doing in particular), so sometimes you hung around him indifferently. Before growing better acquainted with each other he ignored you, although it was nice to have an audience for his mental movie anyway. He was the type of person who enjoyed things like that.

As time passed and he got more used to your presence, though, he’d sit down with you and talk to you instead. That day he asked you, “You never told me, how’d you end up here?” … With me?

“Micha is rich with a big house!” you said with a grin. His spirits dampened — the reasoning was practical, but he would’ve preferred something more poetic maybe. You went on, “I thought I could hide in the vents, but you found me after I snuck in. Whoops.”

He made a face. “You’re such a weird fucking… creepy crawly.” Then he cursed himself because he would’ve preferred to be more articulate.

“And you are a toddler.”

“Did you try anywhere else before my place, though?”

“Yeah. The guy found me before I could hide and called me a naked homeless bum! And then he tried to beat me with a shovel.”

“You must be bad at hiding,” said Kaiser in a tone as if you were beneath him, unconcerned by this information. Then an odd detail stood out to him. “I’m pretty sure you were dressed when I first saw you.”

You smiled at him, but did not elaborate on where you got those stained clothes from back then.

There was an implication.

Morning

You hung onto Kaiser while he brushed his teeth, hugging him from the back. Usually you slept in way after him, but there were rare occasions you’d barge in on him in the mornings, if he rustled too much and disturbed you. Again, for someone who preached that this was not a ‘practice,’ you sure did it a lot.

“Micha, why do you brush so hard? I don’t believe it’s any more effective.”

“Shut up,” he said, making an effort to go slower and less aggressive now that you’d pointed it out. “Don’t watch me. I don’t accept constructive criticism,” he added when you didn’t respond.

Though you changed your appearance to look human (albeit still a bit uncanny in a way he couldn’t quite place — maybe his knowledge that you were extraterrestrial hindered his view), the inherent differences between you and him were the most obvious when you were in contact skin to skin. He wasn’t warm to begin with, but your skin was so much cooler, it was enough to startle him if he didn’t see you coming. There was a contrast in texture, too.

Your hand rested over his chest while you began leaving feather light kisses over his nape and then down to his shoulder. Kaiser was annoyed because he was getting goosebumps. “You’re so clingy sometimes,” he complained.

“Your heart always starts beating faster when I kiss you,” you said. “It’s cute.”

“Stop observing me like a scientist.”

You hugged him tighter and kissed him a bit more firmly. “I wanna bite you real hard past the skin and suck your blood. You’d probably be one of the sweeter ones.”

What a creepy thing to say at seven in the morning. Kaiser had to respect your dedication to the craft at this point.

“Leech,” he said with disdain, though to be honest he was kind of flustered. “I thought you’re supposed to be an alien, not some lame vampire.”

“What? You have blood-sucking creatures here, don’t you, Micha? There is hematophagy in nature.”

“That’s not really the point.”

“I guess so,” you said.

Kaiser was partly annoyed because he was getting butterflies in his stomach, which was stupid and childish. It was clear you wanted to taste him more than you already had, and while usually that would have a more indecent connotation, in your case it was frightening. Like, so disconcerting, he was afraid of you. And it was confusing to be turned on and scared at the same time, but somehow the anxiety was pleasant.

Texting

You lounged around in the bathtub. There were lit candles and blue petals and some other stereotypical bullshit littered about, and you’d been wasting more time than necessary anyway. It wasn’t your fault the world was so dull whenever Kaiser was away from you. That was why when he wasn’t around the house, you did all sorts of extraneous things.

With a reach, you felt around for your phone until you could grab it, and then you turned it on and took a selfie. When you opened your chat with him, you saw he still hadn’t read or replied to anything else you sent him throughout the day, but you kinda forgot you did that anyway.

There were pictures of the sky and a few trees you liked and some old man you talked to when you went out hiking and of your meal at a restaurant which you didn’t even finish because it made you ill, all coupled with unimportant captions.

You sent him the selfie, where you were frowning.

You - 11:07 Micha I miss you soooooo much! I had some fun today but overall it’s boring I love you ♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Michael Kaiser - 03:32 Don’t spam me Replied to “I had some…”: Whatever, suffer more without me I love you too

Label

“Micha,” you said with grave seriousness as you stared down at your phone, “you have a paraphilia.”

He flinched at the word, directed at him no less, and gritted his teeth. “What nonsense are you saying now? Always throwing around random shit in the air like you’re getting paid.”

You turned the screen towards him, pointing. It was some list on Wikipedia and your finger was hovering near the word ‘exophilia.’ “This is what you have,” you said matter-of-factly.

Kaiser had an unreadable expression, mostly because it was vacant and unimpressed.

“No need to use words you don’t understand the nuance of.” He smirked, getting over the initial… whatever reaction he was having, and then he reached out to wrap an arm to pull you into his lap while he sat like he was on a throne even though it was just a lounge chair. Kaiser gestured in the air with ostentation while he spoke, “It only makes sense an extraordinary person like myself would have a unique lover, to gaze upon otherworldly beauty, unlike all those other scoundrels who need to mingle among themselves.”

Now you were the one with a blank face. After some staring, you tapped his cheek. “Micha is so silly and pretentious sometimes…”

“When you talk about me like that, you make me feel really stupid. You’re supposed to feel flattered, not insult me.”

You ignored the complaint, but wrapped your arms around his neck and leaned in to kiss him on the cheek a few times as an appeasement. As usual, he melted into it, and he found himself embarrassed because it was such a small thing to get so affected by.

“Besides, you’ve got to have the same thing. Because I am to you what you are to me,” Kaiser said, still feeling a need to justify himself.

“Hmm. Yes. That’s true. Yay, we’re a freaky couple! Isn’t it nice?”

Kaiser didn’t understand what was so appealing to you with your enthusiasm about the word choice and all. At least if he was sick for his attraction, so were you. There was a unity in that.

Birthday II

You greeted Kaiser outside when he arrived and began dragging him back in, excited to show him something. Kaiser decided to be a pissy killjoy purely for the love of the game, “I don’t see what the point of buying me a present with my money is. I could do that on my own and probably pick something better too.”

“Don’t worry. I made it myself.”

Well, now he was vaguely scared about what it could be. But he was all cool and collected on the outside, so it didn’t count as real trepidation in his mind.

It was in the middle of the corridor on the second floor. Even though he already had a glimpse of it while approaching, you still presented it to him as if he hadn’t seen it at all, stretching out your arms and pursing your lips for the grand reveal.

There stood a statue of him posing with a ball and some kind of trophy. Kaiser didn’t bother asking how you ‘made it yourself.’ A lot of things about you, he was better off just not knowing. And even if he did, he might not get it. He didn’t want to be in a position where he misinterpreted you entirely, so it was better this way, like some kind of mystery.

But anyway this was very embarrassing. You had some kind of notion you had about him which was being communicated right now without words, that he was the kind of guy who sucked his own dick so much he’d enjoy this demented present. The most shameful part was that you were correct, he kind of liked it. It looked nice and all and it was life sized. His pose was grandiose. He didn’t know if he should be flattered or if he should dig a hole and bury his head in it, but either way he was made to feel exposed and attacked by your actions.

After the initial inner conflict, Kaiser decided to address you since it was becoming uncomfortable. “Thanks, you captured my likeliness rather well.”

You seemed pleased by the feedback. Often he noticed you cared about the more pragmatic things, in this case about whether your handiwork was accurate, if it was up to par.

He stood next to it and smirked at you before asking, “Who looks better?”

“Micha is the most beautiful man in the world,” you cheered. “He’s even more beautiful than himself!”

Hehehehe.

But he wouldn’t dare make such an undignified sound out loud.

Kaiser preened at the praise, even though he knew you were wording it in such an exaggerated way just to please him, going along with his fishing for compliments. While he preferred to think of himself as a complex and elusive person who no one understood, there were things about him that were rather simple.

Taxi

That day you had an interesting conversation with Kaiser over the phone. He instructed you to go to the airport and you argued with him about how planes were insufficient for transportation and then you found out they didn’t have teleportation pods and then both of you got too distracted over some made up, incoherent conflict. But anyway, in the end you asked him what you were supposed to do at the airport to begin with since it was such a boring place, and he said he wanted you to pick him up.

Once you climbed inside the passenger seat, you gave the driver the address Kaiser sent you. The driver didn’t seem particularly inclined to converse, but you talked to him. “My roommate is asking me to pick him up.”

“Cool,” he said, not giving a fuck.

“Between you and me, isn’t he handsome?”

You smiled and flashed him your lock screen, which was an unflattering picture of Kaiser (what the big stink was about, you didn’t remember). Those were surprisingly easy to capture considering how often he made all those ugly grimaces.

Though the driver wasn’t a football fanatic, he recognized the man — a celebrity. His exterior stood strong and he remained impassive on the outside, but he thought to himself, I’m stuck in a car with a delusional socially inept erotomaniac.

He replied in an even tone, “Sure.”

He also thought he was entering mass psychosis when fifteen minutes after he dropped you off, you brought back Michael Kaiser to the car, in the flesh (you were carrying around his luggage as if it weighted nothing before you loaded it in the trunk), and you were even talking to him about his away game, and he was bitching about some other players you didn’t seem to recognize beyond Kaiser’s hatred of them. Which implied you weren’t even a football fan.

Regardless, the driver acted natural.

Orbit

You’d been acting withdrawn all day this weekend, which worried Kaiser since it was uncharacteristic, and in turn he started being annoying and dramatic if not overbearing, as if he was seeking some sign in your responses that you weren’t mad at him through his antics.

The reason for this erratic behavior was rather pitiful. Within him there was an unease.

It wasn’t like you were locked in or anything. You were free to go out at any time, and you did. There were times he feared you’d figure out how to go back to your planet — selfish as it was, he hoped such good fortune would never befall you so you’d need to stay with him — and worse he thought maybe during one of your strolls you’d meet someone, get to know them. You had some acquaintances, but they weren’t really close to you, and he thought if there was someone you connected with and got to know better, you’d realize he was defective. Pathologically egocentric and incapable of… Well, he wasn’t sure what it was, but he knew sides of him were hollow, he was lacking. Since he was mishandled as a kid; even his parents couldn’t love him.

Of course, Kaiser did the mature thing any adult would do and didn’t speak his mind, letting it eat at him.

So his anxiety spiked when after all that avoiding him — on his day off no less — you asked, “Micha, don’t you think it’s time for you to go back to all the other humans?”

It didn’t even sound like a rejection, more like you were shooing him away. He just froze. There was an expression on his face as if he was spacing out, eyes widened slightly and mouth set in a thin line.

“Why do you say that?” he asked right back, trying to remain calm.

“Because you’d always rather spend your free time with me than anyone else. And you’re always doing all those things for me… Doesn’t it other you from your peers? What if I start rubbing off on you?”

Kaiser grabbed you by the shoulders. Though such desperate movements and measures and everything-s were below him in his opinion (or at least they were counterintuitive to the way he portrayed himself), he was already on edge and he didn’t want to mince his words. Like the window for winning you over was timed and he was sprinting to squeeze himself in. He supposed he was able to strip himself of his self-inflicted guidelines if necessary. It was just that he usually didn’t deem things outside of football important.

“I don’t care about that. I choose to spend all that time with you because I enjoy it. You make me feel human, so don’t leave. I want to love and care for someone and… I want to be loved and cared for in return, too.”

You seemed surprised by this. Kaiser thought such a thing would be obvious, but then again there were gaps between you that left room for misunderstandings which wouldn’t even be taken into account before they arose.

His love for you was self-involved to an extent. There was a certain light you saw him in — as a human — and he liked experiencing himself in that way through your perspective, but there was more to it than that, something he’d never felt before and couldn’t put into words. So it was real nonetheless, even if coming from someone deficient like him.

“Do you really mean that?” you asked.

“Yeah. Of course.”

He was really firm on it, too, and didn't hesitate before answering. You were a little nervous about what was about to happen.

“I want you to stay with me for as long as possible,” he said. There was an unspoken, Do you?

This seemed to cheer you up from whatever had caused your doubts because you smiled again. “Let’s mispronounce je t’aime together till the end of time.”

“What a disgustingly cute sentiment,” Kaiser said, letting go of your shoulders to embrace you properly, and then he started leaning in.

You shared a slow kiss with him. At first it was gentle and hesitant, but then you both relaxed into it, and he grew more confident in his advances. Kaiser caressed every part of you he touched with what you recognized as real desire, like it didn’t matter that you didn’t really look the way you presented yourself to him or how different you were from one another or even that there might be ways in which your bodies were incompatible.

___

This was just some stupid experimental half joke half allegorical bs that I wrote because I had the idea and I'm very normal and casual about the fact that kaiser sees himself as not inherently possessing humanity. Anyway if something is unclear u can ask me about it or share what you think!

[asunflowerana]

how to crash a study date

with: Bakugou Katsuki as your brother.

warnings: bakugou. that's all you need to know.

a/n: request of @the-hangry-otter for the How to Crash a Date blog event. Thank you for joining darlin', hope you enjoy it 😊💕

"Stay covered. Don't let them notice you, right?"

Bakugou wishes he didn't give ears to Kirishima’s stupid plan, and just bursted the whole thing up. Nonviolence it’s not something natural for him, especially with situations involving his family; but if he wants this to work, he needs to stay put, watching his baby sister being disgustingly ogled by a moron and not being able to do anything about it.

And wearing a fake mustache as coverage!

“tsc, freaking dork.” he scolds lowly, watching through the lens of his sunglasses at the way your classmate is passionately gazing at you, not even hiding his smile whenever you touch his shoulder to show something over your laptop, or share eye-contact for more than three seconds. That guy is so taken with you, that makes Bakugou want to puke in disgust, his expression hardening while watching the scene.

And what makes the blonde even madder, is that you’re not even noticing the way that punk is practically drooling over you. What the heck were you thinking of going out with him? He doesn’t look like he could throw a punch to a goose, let alone protect you should anything happen; he’s probably one of those fancy pants wonks with pathetic quirk and overly confidence. He might be enough for those other extras, but surely not good enough for his little sister.

He was fairly right to follow you over this “study date”. 

Bakugou’s temper was already boiling since he got into this stupid cafe trying not to lose you from sight; now imagine when he spots that moron suddenly taking a loose lock of your hair, fondling it between his fingers for a moment before tucking it behind your ear. 

He sees red.

Before the poor guy could make another move his hand is ripped away from your face, his wrist getting twisted backwards painfully by a brutal and unknown force. It takes one look above to see the enraged pair of red eyes staring down at him. “Get your filthy paws away from her!”

It takes a considerable amount of time to stop Bakugou from blasting the whole place up. 

a/n: one minute of silence for the poor date 😂

© asunflowerana 2024 — all rights reserved.

[worldstarz]

shinjiro defends your honor against stupei

pairing: shinjiro aragaki x fem!reader (sees member)

summary: your leader wants to show you a video of the stone-cold shinjiro aragaki getting into a debate with junpei over ranking the girls. he gets very passionate over you.

tags: kinda shitpost ; feat. junpei + protag ; not proofread ; spoiler-free ; mutual pining

notes: just got to october 4th! wrote this to cope! i am not okay! also protag is called leader bc im not looking up his name to avoid spoilers. i’ll edit when i finish the game !!

———

“so if you press this button, the footage should start playing,” the leader points to the console, directing you on how to play the recordings. other than for meetings and before missions, you’ve never been in the command room before. hell, you didn’t even know there were cameras in the building until now.

the specific recording your leader wanted to show you is labeled ‘september 23 - lounge’. as you press the play button, the lights of the command room dim down as the video begins to play on the screen.

———

as expected, the recording shows the first floor lounge. shinjiro and junpei sit on the same couch, but at different ends.

“so, aragaki-senpai, what’s your ranking of all the girls in the building?” junpei leans back, hands behind his head. there is a considerable amount of distance between them, both physically and interpersonally, and junpei decided talking about the ladies is the best way to bridge that distance.

“why would i care?” shinjiro scoffs, his crossed arms not helping the already-tense air.

“oh, come on! with so many beautiful ladies here, you’ve gotta have a ranking by now! like, who’d you rather be alone in a room with? or see in a bikini?” junpei begins listing off the girls in an attempt to convince shinjiro to dig deep into his thoughts and desires. “there’s kirijo-senpai, with that air of elegance and maturity; yuka-tan, a pretty chick very popular among guys our age; fuuka, an all-around cutie; [name], who is… hm…” he didn’t even reach aigis before running out of adjectives. trying to think over his very limited dictionary, he briefly hesitates.

shinjiro visibly perks up upon hearing the last name listed. noticing this, junpei exaggerates his struggle to think.

“hm… what is there about [name]…” junpei rubs his chin, staring at his senpai as his face morphs from an expression of indifference to one of annoyance.

“you’re kidding me, right?” aragaki scowls, sitting up slightly. “you seriously can’t think of anything for [name]?”

“well, she’s just… eh…” junpei trails off. “i wouldn’t rank her very high.”

“i know you’re a moron, but i didn’t know you could be this much of a dumbass,” he leans forward. without even raising his voice, the simple action caused an air of intimidation around him that could be felt even through the screen. “the hell do you mean ‘you wouldn’t rank her very high’? are you fucking blind?”

“nonono, man, she’s attractive-“ junpei frantically tries to explain himself, backtracking on his original plan of getting a reaction out of shinjiro because finding out his senpai’s type was not worth getting his ass beat. but, aragaki continues.

“don’t tell me you’d rank her lower than a goddamn robot!” this was possibly the most passionate he’s ever been, and it was over a casual conversation of ranking the girls in their dormitory building. “she better be in at LEAST your top three or i’m mopping the floors with your ass.”

“no, dude, she’s in my top three, i swear!” junpei’s attempts at damage control were getting more desperate. “she’s probably number one!”

“…number one?” aragaki repeats, as the two sit in a heavy silence for a moment. “you don’t deserve to have her in your number one spot,” he mutters.

“…what?”

“i SAID you don’t DESERVE to have her in your number one spot!!”

“OKAY THEN SHE’S NUMBER TWO!!!” junpei raises his hands up in an act of surrender. “she’s second! [name] is second!”

———

“…”

unable to listen to anymore, you hurriedly hit the pause button. you feel hot, and as the lights turn back on, you make a futile attempt to cover your burning face with your hands.

your leader clears his throat. “so, should i set you two up on a date, or-“

“no!” you exclaim, cutting him off with a wide-eyed expression on your face. “no! no.” you calm yourself down with a deep breath, trying not to imitate junpei’s desperation shown in the video. trying to collect yourself, you add, “that won’t be necessary. shinjiro didn’t even say his own ranking, so all of that probably could have meant nothing. absolutely nothing. right.”

“i mean, if you finish watching-“

once again burying your face into your hands, you yell into your palms to cut him off. a typical response from a teenage girl finding out her crush laid his pride on the line to advocate for her attractiveness.

the leader, ignoring your wishes, presses the play button.

———

“where would you put [name] then?” junpei asks, his signature shit-eating grin on his face. the video seems to have skipped ahead, as evidenced by junpei being much more calm than earlier.

shinjiro hesitates.

the quality is a bit fuzzy, but you can see junpei having a perplexed expression as he leans in to get a better look at shinjiro’s face, who turns his head away.

“are you…” junpei squints, then his eyes widen in surprise. “are you blushing??”

“the hell? no way i am!” shinjiro turns his body away.

“oh man, you should’ve just said you like her!” junpei grins, trying to be a supportive bro!

“i-i don’t even think of her like that! just lay it off!”

“so, what about her, huh?” his excitement shows in his voice. “she’s pretty cute and all. oh, those eyes are gorgeous-“

“i said lay it off!” shinjiro exclaims, and junpei jumps.

“ok man, ok! that’s my bad!” junpei backs up, and the awkward silence returns once more. without saying a word, shinjiro gets up and leaves.

———

at this point, you’ve sat down. the leader turns around to look at you, your face buried into a pillow. your ears are practically glowing red.

“my offer earlier about setting you two up still stands-“ he begins, but as you did before, you cut him off.

“shut up!!!!” you scream into the pillow, kicking your feet. you lift your face from the pillow to meet his gaze.

he can’t help but laugh. “should i get yukari? she probably knows more.”

admitting defeat, you nod.

[web-novel-polls]

Best Hater Lower Bracket

Please vote for whoever’s best at being a hater, not who you like the most. If unfamiliar with a character, check out the propaganda below the cut! 

Jiang Cheng from Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation (MDZS)

Submission 1: Hates Wangxian's relationship. 

Submission 2: Dude devoted more than a decade of his life to hating on his dead kind-of-brother (it's complicated) how has he not been submitted already? bonus points for his actor's many faces of utter disgust in The Untamed 

Mod Propaganda: Haterism so bad you can start fandom discourse just by name-dropping him. 

Wiki Link

Mu Qing from Heaven Official’s Blessing (TGCF)

Submission: https://www.tumblr.com/bonesblubs/708661194148511744/inspiration 

Mod Propaganda: Mu Qing can split a tower bell in two yet can’t admit he wanted to be friends with someone he’s known for 800+ years without trying to immediately kill himself. Randomly started reciting a poem about his least favorite coworker’s dick just to fuck with him (Feng Xin). Said he’d kill a bride like Xie Lian if she was sent to him. 

Wiki Link

Qi Rong from Heaven Official’s Blessing 

“Obviously, those things weren't within the realm of consideration for Qi Rong. He swore like there wasn't a single person in the Three Realms he didn't want cursed to death. He called Pei Ming a rotten manwhore, Little Pei a kiss-ass, Jun Wu a faker, Ling Wen a damned bitch, Lang Qianqiu a moron, Quan Yizhen dog shit, the Water Master blackhearted, the Wind Master a tramp–he probably didn't know Shi Qingxuan was actually a man.” - Heaven Official’s Blessing (Tumblr)

Wiki Link

[popponn]

a duck, a prince, and the snow.

note: was gonna make it hcs but uh. ehe. here, smth similar for chigiri haha. this is two iq shower thought situation. warning: none, fluff, post canon/pro au, reader’s gender unspecified, undertone of morons friends to lovers, prince & duckling (affectionately).

reo loves you enough to marry you the moment you demand it. with rings, grand ceremonies, and an even grander honeymoon. but the thing is, you are way too oblivious.

reo tries everything already—praises, flirting, dressing in the way you like the most, asking you to go to your favorite places together, buy you everything, special treatment, and many more. at this point, it’s probably easier to mention what he hasn’t tried yet—with “straight up confessing” sitting at the top of the “no way not yet no chigiri no nagi no way” chart. some people actually think this is some new brand of masochism—trapping oneself in a friendzone, but most of them stop thinking about this after seeing your dynamic with him once. as in it really is that painful to watch.

in your defense, this guy is indeed generous when he wants to be. so he could give you a diamond ring and you could read it either as a bribe for something or a random gift for that tuesday. the worst thing is probably how you are so genuinely unable to think of the more romantic possibility whilst the giving party is more than okay with it. really, sincerely, from the bottom of his heart.

because you could go “oh reo you are such a good friend! let’s be friends forever!” and this guy would probably look extremely constipated for 0.1 sec then before you could see it, all you got is a doting exasperation expressed through a charming prince smile on his face. in the way that is not even “ah well too bad, but we can do it next time” smile, but an “oh, how adorable. i truly am in love with them” smile. rinse and repeat for three years and more, that’s basically how this hellish adorable loop goes. talk about a guy who is in love with every part of you—even when the part is denser than a black hole.

but, like every fairytale, this prince too deserves a proper happy ending, doesn’t he?

Under the illuminations and falling snow, you wonder why Reo chooses to be here with you, walking through the cold December night with groceries in his hands. You feel bad for telling him that you are out shopping alone now, or at the very least you should have accepted his offer to bring his limousine. It feels wrong getting him carrying your things considering everything.

“Reo,” you begin sheepishly, reaching out to tug his jacket sleeve lightly with your empty hand. "You really don’t have to do this, you know.”

Reo, somehow, looks like he takes offense to that. “Huh? Why not? I want to. Plus, just imagining you waddling like a duck with two heavy grocery bags…” Dramatically, Reo trails off with a heavy sigh. A cloud of cold breath fogs his lips for a moment, but not enough to cover up the teasing smirk that follows, “…yeah, at least I want to watch that.”

You immediately nudge his side with an angry huff, all while fruitlessly trying to step on his feet. Whilst Reo laughs with too much mirth on his face, he avoids your vengeful foot with a grace that truly belongs to a professional soccer player. Some bystanders who walk past the two of you spares some glances, but as long as they do not recognize Reo who hides his face and hair under a miraculous yet simple black cap, you feel like you couldn’t care about them.

“I shouldn’t have felt bad for you! I’m trying to be considerate to your hands getting cramps and cold, you jerk!” you hissed finally, jutting out your tongue just as an extra gesture, before adding another protest as an afterthought, “And you called me a duck for that!?”

“You are worried about me? That’s sweet!” Reo smiles in a way that is positively shit eating. Then, he nudges back to your side, an act that is pretty much imitating your previous action, yet clearly, much gentler as he lets his shoulder stay pressed to yours as the two of you continue to walk. “Come on, don’t be mad. That means I will still take care of you even when you are a duck.”

You glare half-heartedly at that. Even if this sort of conversation—idle, with worth only the two of you could understand—is not rare, you really wonder why he seems so bubbly today. With your steps and his once again falling into a synchronous rhythm, you curiously ponder out loud, “So, what happened?”

Reo tilts his head, in a manner that is subjectively cute to you. “Hm?”

“Today, what happened? You seem happy. Did something good happen in your meeting? Or your training?”

“Uh… eh? Not really, honestly. Nagi was feeling kind of down, and Isagi also seemed to be in a bad mood, Rin—the younger Itoshi, you remembered?” he pauses, looking at your reaction before continuing after your nod. “Yeah, so that guy also got really angry today. Overall, it was a mess, but nothing new. The board meeting, uh, yeah—the greedy old guys somehow get greedier today.”

“Seriously?” You wince hearing all of those. “That… sounds like a really terrible day… are you okay?”

Reo’s face shifts once again into a very smug look, which you shoot down immediately with a glare straight to his handsome face. Seeing your unamused look, the half-lidded brattish look he wears immediately crinkles to a very bright happy look, with a smile that is wide enough to turn his eyes into a pair of crescent moons. It is beautiful—you think to yourself, silently, softly.

“Nah, as I said, nothing new about that too. Plus—” Reo suddenly leans his head against yours, letting his cold cheek glue itself against your equally cold one. Nonetheless, you still squawk ungracefully. “—I got a really cute duckling worrying about me and walking with me romantically like this. I will call that it’s a winning day!”

“Really now?” you ask again, exasperated and not really understanding the meaning behind his words. It feels like you are missing something—but you can’t really put a finger on it. Paying no more mind to that thought, you continue, “So, paying for me, coming running to me, and then getting me to walk with a prince who also carries my groceries is a payback for being the cute ducking?”

“Clearly,” Reo says, familiar pride and softness lacing his tone. It makes you laugh. It’s odd, but as how being in his presence really makes you feel at ease, it does feel pleasant to hear him feeling so with just a walk with you. But, before you can let that feeling settle quietly, Reo goes on, resting his gaze on you in a manner that feels too fond and affectionate, “But, even if without all those, I will still come running to you.”

Yet again, you feel like you are missing something. There is a heat that crawls up from the inner chamber of your chest, thrumming and warm and wonderful. Dizzying and confusing, but often presents itself for Reo and Mikage Reo only.

“I… I see,” you stammer out, your voice unconsciously turning into one that is just a few notes away from a whisper.

You don’t know what Reo sees in your expression, but with it, his eyes gleam in a very tender manner. “Well, but you see,” he begins, his voice mimicking a mocking tone, “while this prince’s hand is one warmed with groceries, the other one is still very empty and cold.”

“Oh?” you muse, seeing where this is going.

Boyish and as charming as always, Reo reaches his idle hand to yours, intertwining his finger with yours. One could say it feels like a scene from a drama, one could say it feels like something written by hopeless romantics, but ultimately, to you the fact that it is Reo that makes your breath hitches. Suddenly, it is very worrying if your hands are sweaty.

Wait, are they—

“Now, the prince feels very warm,” Reo, oblivious to your predicament, states cheekily with boldness veiling his eyes.

“…the prince is a prick,” you reply, knowing your defeat. It is unusual of him to do something like this, yet there is not even an ounce of desire in you to protest.

“As long as the duckling is okay with it, is it really a problem though?” he says, leaning even closer to your face.

At some point, you know you stop breathing. And Reo realizes it.

It is probably then that the tension between the two of you suddenly closes down its curtain. Something flashes through Reo’s eyes. And before you know it, the hold he has on your hand loosened, as if giving you permission to pull away.

Then, a part of your mind says, “Who cares about the duckling and prince anymore—”

And to that sentiment, you raise an enthusiastic agree.

Because it is Reo, probably, you tightened your hold around his hand. Your hand might be sweaty, and you might not get everything that is happening—but you know enough that this feels like the right choice.

“I am,” you answer resolutely, looking away from him and facing your front instead. “I am very okay with it.”

You have no courage to peek at your friend’s—your companion’s expression. And so, you miss the way his eyes light up, realizing and catching something that you haven’t realized yet. Thus, you too don’t expect the way he tugs you into a halt, stopping your steps just a few centimeters away from his.

When you turn to him, you find Mikage Reo. His eyebrows are furrowed under his cap, his lips bitten and pouting at the some time. With redness on his cheeks, as good-looking and as princely as he has always been to you, staring at you with a seriousness that spells out determination and more.

“Can I—”

On the middle of the sidewalk, surrounded by crowds who don’t recognize Mikage Reo and you, the two of you stand still. The snow continues to fall and none of you bring your gloves. In such a scene, Reo’s eyes never once left you.

“Can I tell you something?”

add. note: was it cheesy? unnecessarily so. did i lost the prompt somewhere? kinda. is it xmas? uh. what is this? uh. could it be better?...yeah i think i had fun tho <3 hope u too <3 blame jinshi and how this part came out the smoothest. also if this is in reo's pov lmao it's a mess there.

[everythingacotarbxm1012]

Cassian as a girl dad, headcanons…

Warnings - devastation of war mentioned, adoption (can be a more touchy subject for some)

When he learns he is having a girl who is OVERJOYED. He wasn't against a boy, but the general also remembers what he was like when he was young.

Once the initial burst of joy fades away he's freaking out. The home isn't kid-proof, what if he messes this up––he's been a fighter his whole life, i don't know how to do hair... how will he raise a kid as a general, i need time off...

Then there's deciding what type of dad Cassian wants to be.

First few weeks he rambles about his options as you both fall asleep, his head on your chest, fingers tracing shapes over your stomach.

Does he want his daughter running around with a sword beating up stupid Illyrian morons, or taking dance classes and painting his nails.

'Cassian, baby,' you ask your mate.

Of course, then again why can't the general be both; nails-painted, hair-braided, dance-class-taking, teach-my-daughter-to-fight, dad...

Cassian spends the next few months learning how to braid hair, cut hair, make buns, ponytails, something twists. But of course if his daughter wants short hair that's okay too...

So what if he is the butt of some jokes from Az and Rhys

The paperwork is the most annoying part. Your patience was always so much greater than his. He was a fighter, not a paper-work doer.

It was all the more complicated considering adoption wasn't exactly common in Prythian, a newer idea many Fae didn't consider.

The added consideration of the devastation from the war against Hybern then dealing with Koschei made for quite a number of babies and children left without families and you couldn't handle that.

It was a bit of a new precedent but one the High Lord and Lady helped guide Cassian and his mate through it all.

The day you finally get to take your daughter home it's a pile of nerves and joy. She has little with her, only a stuffed animal dragon with pig tails and a dress.

Nothing compares to this feeling. Only the snap of the mating bond could be considered comparable. A two-year-old girl with big eyes and tightly tucked wings could bring Cassian to his knees in an instant.

The General of the Night Court, Lord of Bloodshed, undone.

She looks up at him as you pick up your new daughter. You introduce yourself, pointing to Cassian. 'Dada,' you coo.

She keeps staring at Cassian who takes the young girl into his arms, sobbing.

'I would burn the world to the ground for you,' he thinks.

She turns in her father's arms to stare at you holding out the dragon. 'Azwiel,' she says pointing to the dragon stuffed animal.

Cassian later learns that's because Azriel was cool when he flew. Naturally, Azriel is the one to teach her to fly.

You stifle a laugh, Cassian just keeps sobbing.

It takes her a few months to adjust to her new home, but has little trouble exploring.

One night when you and Cassian are both asleep you see her toddle into the room with a giggle. 'Can my fwend bwysis sleep with us,' she asks innocently.

You start shaking with laughter.

Cassian realizes, in that moment, he is way out of his depth.

[cosmicjoke]

I'm really sick of seeing posts from a certain subset of people in the Levi fandom "pushing back" on the fact that Levi is a good person. What exactly is the point of it? Just to be contrary? Just to seem like one of the "cool kids" who can be objective about Levi? As if acknowledging that Levi is a good person means you're biased about him? What a joke.

Him being a good person isn't an interpretation about his character, it's a fact.

I'd really love to know what apparently impossible standards one would have to meet in order to qualify as a good person, according to these people?

Because in my book, being a good person comes down to one very basic and straightforward quality.

Do you genuinely care about other people and living beings and want to help them in whatever ways you can?

If the answer is yes, then you're a good person.

Of course there can then be varying degrees of goodness. How much do you care, i.e. how much are you willing to personally sacrifice for the benefit of others? How far does your care go?

I call Levi exceptionally good all the time because not only does he care more about other people than any other character in the series, showing immense and deep compassion toward basically everyone, but he's completely selfless. He never takes anything for himself, but only constantly, consistently gives to others, often at the expense of his own comfort and well-being.

These fans that want to question Levi's goodness because he engages in quote on quote "morally dubious" actions like killing or other acts of violence, absolutely send me with their moronically childish view of the world, and also with how completely they miss the entire point of AoT and its themes. Judging one for their actions without consideration for context or mitigating circumstances is one of the main things AoT warns against, and yet these clowns go right ahead and proudly declare how they're doing just that with regards to Levi, acting as if that somehow makes them superior fans because they can be "objective" about him.

That's not being objective about Levi's character. That's being unfairly judgmental and prejudiced based on your simplistic, black and white view of morality. Similar to how Eren was unfairly judgmental toward Reiner and Bertolt, or how Jean and Mikasa were unfairly judgmental toward Levi, or how Gabi was unfairly judgmental toward everyone on Paradis.

You aren't a better or more objective fan of Levi's because you go around claiming he's a "morally grey" character or not "wholly good". You just don't understand what makes someone a good person at all. Levi isn't "morally grey". A morally grey character would be someone who's intentions are morally questionable, or who's morals are unstable and easily compromised or changed. That's not Levi. Levi remains consistent from beginning to end in his morality and intentions. All Levi does and tries to do is help others, in whatever ways he can. That's the only intent behind any of his actions. All of his actions are rooted in the fact that he genuinely cares about others.

If that doesn't define Levi as a good person, than nothing would.

[cacti-are-like-flamingos]

Moment's Silence

Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

The Cursed Trio | Better Than Gold

...

A golden hand enters your field of a vision. The lines are the sharpest you've ever seen and it doesn't take you long to figure out who it is

"Kento." Your voice is soft, very tired. You had finally come back from the series of missions the Higher-Ups sent you --- well, it was more of a you had to drag yourself across campus to reach your dormitory but even then, you didn't even get to your door as you threw yourself onto the couch in the recreational room. Your body felt like you were trapped under the steel beam buried under ruins of your own making. So heavy were your burdens, so impossibly immovable.

Did he notice your new scars?

"Here," a warm cup was placed right before you. The aroma so familiar it brought a lazy smile to your lips, it's the one you showed him how to make so long ago.

(Side Note: Kento had seen you coming from afar, so he hurried himself to make your drink upon seeing the pure utter exhaustion written upon your face. He will never admit it, but he actually cooled the liquid considerably by lightly blowing on it. He didn't want you to burn yourself.)

"Thank you."

(Side Note: Kento knows you like to sit on the right due to ache you get in the neck whenever you have to look right, so you rather have people sit on your left to avoid such pains. That's why he always sits on your left. Moreover, he noticed this after observing your interactions with Gojo and Suguru. Gojo has a tendency to sit on your right, so whenever you two speak, you rub your neck with a discreet grimace. The same could not be said for Suguru, who you'll happily talk with without a grimace tainting your face.)

And so, the two of you sat beside each other in silence. Your head slightly bowed into the curve of his clothed shoulders as you took small sips of the drink. A silence blooming for what seemed for hours until he, surprisingly, broke it.

"You look sick. Did you see Shoko for your wounds?" He asked, voice barely above a whisper. His usual sternness is gone, at least.

You shook your head, "Didn't have the time. I'll go to her tomorrow. See what she can fix." You mindlessly note how the more tired you became, the more your foreign accent became pronounced.

"It's inefficient for you to not seek medical aid immediately after a mission, you'll likely die if you keep that up "

He's not wrong...oh well

You cleared your throat, god you were thirsty as hell. "How have you been, hm? You seem just as tired as me."

Grunting, Kento spoke," Gojo and Geto are alright."

You paused, what?

"Geto had been assigned a mission yesterday, and only just returned a few hours ago. He sustained minor injuries--- scratches. And that moron of your friend is fine. He never gets hurt on missions."

Pulling away (barely to be honest, your still an inch away from his shoulder), you observe the blond with an inquisitive look. "Why are you telling me this? I didn't-" "Knowing their status is the only way to calm that mind of yours." You go to argue, mainly to save face about not caring for Gojo, but he beats you to it with a stern glare. "You stopped shaking your leg the moment I told you they were well."

Wow, you're getting sloppy

Opting to keep your mouth shut, you lean back into his shoulder. Wrapping your arms around his elbow as you hug it. A wave of comfort breezing over you as you did so.

The both of you stayed spoke that for a few minutes. The silence was comfortable enough.

Until it wasn't

"What happened?" You leaned further into his warmth upon hearing his inquiry. You liked how his voice deepened the more life weighed down on him.

"Met a ghost from my past... I'm gonna have to face the music soon, but I-," "Don't want to?" You scoffed softly, a small amused smile hanged from your lips, "Right as always."

Should you continue? Tell him the whole truth? It'd get the weight off your shoulders although not the one from your heart.

Not the whole truth. That'll be enough for now.

"Yuki Tsukumo is my ghost--- one of my ghosts from the past. She's the one who found me."

You couldn't see his face yet from the way his soul glimmered, you know he was, at the very least, mildly surprised.

"The lazy sorcerer who bums her way overseas?" You snorted, "That's not exactly right but I'm just going to agree with you for convince purposes," you take a breath in. "When she found me...I was in a really bad place --- of my own making, to be honest. She, uh, saved me. But since she couldn't exactly take me in, she handed me off to to Yaga. " You stopped there, unsure how to continue.

By then, you'd already finish your cup. Without another word, Kento grabbed it out of your hand, placing it on the coffee table by your feet without having to do move much due to his long limbs. You hated how everyone seemed to tower over you at times.

"How does that make her your ghost?"

You paused.

Was it time? Was it right?

Keep it vague, just like your pointless existence

"She did me a favor."

Yet, that seemed like all he needed to know for, next thing you know, he's gently pushing you away as he comes to stand. Curious, you watch as he makes head gestures to the shadows in the room. Strange, you couldn't see any one there --- ah, the fact that there's nothing there tells you that there's something there. And by something, someone.

Gojo

Had he been listening this entire time?

To be honest, you couldn't even find it in yourself to care. Although, you were feeling a little embarrassment from having said something so emotional in front of people.

(if you want to know more about how Gojo's Infinity affects your Cursed Sight, check the bottom of this post under 'A/N'. It'll explain everything you need to know.)

Suddenly, he drops his Infinity Shroud and his soul is back in sight --- albeit, what you see unnerves you yet fascinates you as always

His eyes, the first and surely the last you will ever truly see, capture your entire attention as though you're a winged insect to his funeral pyre (iykyk).

All-seeing, all-revealing, all-reflecting. With every movement you made, the colors in his eyes changed. A beautiful iridescent that you regret coming to love so vehemently.

You hadn't realized you've been staring until Kento's lips kissed the skin of your forehead, a silent goodbye and good night as he patted your head and left without a second word.

The amount of care from his actions, it left you momentarily speechless. That is until the sound of someone clearing their throat interrupted your train of thought

You didn't, miss the slight scowl that stained his perfect little face

"Gojo," you yawned. "What are you doing u-" "Waiting for you." The answer came almost instantly as though he anticipated your question.

You pouted, "And Sug-" "He's sleeping. In your room."

Had you really become so predictable?

Wait, Suguru was sleeping in your room?

"Why-" "Stop being stupid."

Coming beside you, he pulled you to your feet with a sharp tug. Forcing you to stumble into his chest as he dragged you away from the recreational room, giving you absolutely no time to recover as the two of you reached your room. The door slightly ajarred, quiet snores escaping through the crack.

(Side Note: Your room was one of the largest in all of the dormitories thanks to a few bribes here and there to none other than Yaga, who even went as far as to help you make it even bigger. It was also a pride thing for him considering that out of all his students, you were the one most receptive to his plushy making. So he made you a large dormitory so that the stuffed animals he's made you over the past few months could be put on display better.)

Point is, you have a big ass bed

It's not the first time the three of you have done this. In fact, the first time happened in Suguru's room --- you and Suguru had been assigned a mission together. It took longer than expected so when you both came back, you found a sleeping Gojo in the young Geto's bed. A little anime snot bubble and everything (your room was farther away than Suguru's, that's why you both discovered Gojo together)

Without a second thought, you kicked off your flats and crawled onto the bed. Gojo not far behind as he lifted the cover so you could slip in beside him

Grabbing his glasses off his face, you gingerly placed them on the nightstand beside the bed while he undid Suguru's right bun, letting the dark locks flow loose on the silk pillow.

(Side Note: The silk pillowcases were a gift from Gojo. And the hair tie was actually one of yours, an obnoxious one too.)

Almost as if sensing you, Suguru unconsciously turned to your direction, his hand splayed across your hips while Gojo wrapped an arm around the crook of your neck, his own body pressed to your side (you had your own hand wrapped around Suguru's wrist by your torso. Your fingers rub on his pulse as your own heart beats alongside his)

One beat

His breath on your ear as he whispered, "What favor?"

You shivered at the sensation of his warm breath caressing the curve of your ear.

Two beat

"Huh?"

He tightened his hold around you, not at all threatening. You knew he simply wanted an answer to what was bothering you. Even if it was a little demanding, it's how he showed his care for you. That and by annoying you to death as well.

Three beat

You acquiesced, "Before I came here, I was...a different person. Tsukumo found me and took me in for a short while but by then, the Higher Ups didn't, uh, like me --- understandable to be honest. Tsukumo vouched for me and well, I came here."

Four beat

He didn't say anything, yet you could clearly hear the gears turning in his head. At least, Suguru was asleep. You don't think you could handle a confrontation at this time, if ever

Five beat

"There's more?" He quipped.

"Obviously."

Six beat

"Later?" "Later."

With that, he buried his face deep into the space of your neck, his nose tickling the skin as he relaxed his body to mold into yours like memory foam.

The forest and the dawn enveloping you, the night of dahlias

Ah, you missed this.

Seven beat

...

(A/N): Not at all how this was suppose to go. In fact, this entire episode was suppose to be something completely and utterly different. Also, it is unbelievably hot. I shower and I still sweat. We truly are in the era of global boiling

Let's talk about Cursed Sight: Chains and how they relate to Gojo Satoru, our dear Limitless and Six-Eye user. To my understanding, up to this point, Gojo has yet to use Infinity automatically. In fact, it is only after the events of Star Plasma Vessel that he begins to use it automatically. I had to scour my manga for this shit. Anyways, what I'm trying to say with this is that Gojo has to manually activate Infinity. Now, let's move on.

Infinity basis itself as an ever-expanding boundary that continually splits into countless smaller segments, each representing an infinitesimal fraction of the whole. As a result, the boundary presents itself as an infinitely intricate maze of dividing dimensions. Moreover, Cursed Sight allows you to see all souls, curses, and others in the vicinity, but as the sight extends towards Gojo, it is met with an unending cascade of infinitely dividing barriers. A sort of waterfall to your senses.

To be put in simply, imagine trying to walk along an ever-branching path that continuously splits into countless forks, with no end in sight. In the same way, the Cursed Sight, with all its potency, finds itself perpetually entangled in this boundless labyrinth of infinity. The result is that your spiritual perception cannot reach far enough to observe Gojo Satoru and his soul, making him completely and utterly invisible to you Jesus fucking Christ that was a long as explanation.)

Originally:

This episode was supposed to be a direct continuation of the previous, starting with Yuki Tsukumo confronting you on your successes as well as your failures ever since the last time she saw you. But I changed it at the last minute because I felt like Kento would be a better transition for some reason. (Also because I missed him)

When Kento asked, "How does that make her the ghost of your past?" You were supposed to say, "She saved me from myself." But in that split second before the words left your mouth, you decided to keep things vague. Not for the reasons you believe. In all honesty, you do not believe you have been saved but rather, you are in someone's debt.

Your interaction with Kento was supposed to be a lot shorter but like characters charactered

Did you notice? Throughout this entire story, Gojo has let his Infinity fall just for you since the very beginning. At first, he didn't know his Infinity blinded you to his presence, but when he did, he made it a habit to drop it around you. I wonder what kind of implications that has for the future.

What kind of person were you like before? Why is your past so ominous

Did Gojo really wait all night just for you? How sweet of him. But if he did, why did he wait until you had confessed the truth to Kento to finally reveal himself? Could it be because he knew you don't fully trust him so he had to cheat his way into your trust? As in, force you to open up. Hm.

Suguru's soul is the color of a forest

Gojo's soul is the color of dawn

Your soul is the color of a black dahlia

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Hope you enjoyed!

[collapsedsquid]

First, I mean my earlier observation literally: millionaires and billionaires are just like us in a very relevant and direct sense. Beyond a) possessing a lot of money and contacts and b) some very narrow and particular skills, it turns out that the very rich and very powerful are not astonishing super-beings but more or less the same people that most readers of this newsletter will recognize. Their chat dynamics appear recognizable because even elites are pretty much the same as us—except, of course, for those resources, which are considerable. Yet those resources don’t mean that they conduct conversations on a plane inaccessible to mortals; if anything, their discussions appear to have been less challenging and less interesting than the conversations my group chats entertain. This matters. Back in the day, WhatsApp chats were blamed for radicalizing the masses of Brazil into electing Jair Bolsanaro. This era of misinformation/disinformation research always had the whiff of believing that there was a cognitive/information elite that could escape such pollution, but the unwashed could not. Yet the more we learn about the Internet habits of the rich and famous the less likely this seems. If Sam Alito has a group chat, then I guarantee you its contents are indistinguishable from hundreds of thousands of Fox News-pilled chats around the country. It’s not just the mass but the elites who can be radicalized and endumbened, in other words. And the effects of those information environments might not even be similar to the effects on less sophisticated observers—they might be more radicalizing or totalizing for people who are motivated to believe and act in certain ways. Back in the day, politicians more or less learned about the world from the same newspapers and networks any voter did. Now imagine the reinforcing doom loop of politicos sending the same misinformation to each other that you can see on any Facebook politics page (well, that you used to).

Bilderburg group meetings must be kept ultra secret so nobody can learn what fuckin morons they are.