#and than I would have had more health to deal with the fucking TONE that killed me of all things

[cronchlord]

Doing my scorcherly duties (Protecting my Northstar from a Ronin)

[flightyalrighty]

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT CH 1 PG 36

Infested will return on June 27th. --- Thank you to the following Ascended supporters: @chaogongoozles, @fiiresiidefrfr, @elizard4227, @grogar, Ezzoh, @susivoi, @calculuscacophony, Eros, @ivycorp, @summersdale @borrelia, @mizukiz, @sanicdetails, @combinegrunt-echo-1, Pica, @veeceear, @quackenburt, ItsmeMonarch, @memendoemori, @trans-girl-sonic, & savarsenic

Content Warnings | Store | Ko-Fi (Discord!) | Read On Comic Fury! DISCLAIMER: "Infested" is a horror comic ft. content not suitable for those under the age of 17.

A long-winded looking back on things below the cut:

The first few pages of Infested were uploaded to this blog on March 2nd, 2023 -- Over a whole year ago! I was so busy, too, that I completely missed its birthday (Sorry Infested). Looking even further back than that, the original story was was something I began writing on December 25th, 2022 (Merry Christmas).

It took two years to get to this point.

And hey, not to toot my own horn about it, but completing even one chapter of a webcomic is a big deal. Especially for me. My first webcomic, Fight/Flight, didn't get very far. I completed the prologue, started Chapter 1, and then had to drop it for a number of reasons (I didn't really agree with what baby-me had to say, politically, anymore).

This comic was born from a lot of intense feelings. The story, itself, too. Some good. Some bad.

I had been forced to move away from my hometown, and with that move, I lost the physical connection that I had to all of my friends. I lost the familiarity of a place I'd known for most of my life. I'm now stuck somewhere... Worse. It felt like a cage. Still does. Disconnected from the life I thought I would be living after college. I didn't have health insurance, either -- Got kicked off of it because of the move -- And as a result, I was off my antidepressants.

So there I was, at a pretty low point in my life. I miserable and lonely and every single day dragged on. And on. And on. And I felt so disappointed in myself. That disappointment became self-loathing, and it all kinda spiraled.

Have I mentioned that I'm a huge Sonic fan? I don't think I need to. I'd say it's pretty obvious. But for the sake of this story, I'll say it again: I'm a HUGE Sonic fan. I've been that way since 2003 with Sonic Heroes. The franchise has been in my life for over two decades. I had a monthly mail subscription to Archie's Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic the Hedgehog was something that I truly loved more than any other piece of media. It brought me endless joy. Until I didn't.

I had dropped Sonic after Lost World was... Itself. I had already felt pretty irritated with the Meta Era, and Lost World was the final straw. The last bit of hope that the series could recover was snuffed out when Forces was released. It was over. I was done. If Sonic was truly that embarrassed by itself, if they had truly lost touch with what made the series so great, then I wouldn't waste my time any longer. I was so sure that I had to just... Grieve and move on. My beloved childhood game series was dead. Long live the king or whatever. I'd just bitterly read IDW Sonic and think about what could've been. I was lucky to have that comic, at least. Archie had been canceled, too, after all. I was lucky to have my scraps.

Then Sonic Frontiers came out. And it changed everything.

And my god, it was everything. It was everything to me. Flaws be damned, it was everything. To. Me. The spectacle. The serious tone. The vastly improved writing. Kellin Fucking Quinn. It was FUN! It was actually FUN to PLAY. He was back. I was back. Sonic pulled me by my hand out of the ocean of misery I'd fallen into, and he looked me in my eye and he said;

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Metaphorically speaking. Sonic The Hedgehog didn't actually literally speak to me -- And sure, okay, maybe it's a little dramatic to describe a game as this great Depression Annihilator but I'm dead serious when I say that, for that time, before I was able to get back on my meds, I was self-medicating with Sonic.

Sonic was all I was thinking about. I reread the Unleashed arc in Archie Sonic, which got me sorta realizing something, and which led to my post where I said something along the lines of "Sonic would hide a zombie bite."

Archie Sonic would, at least. Because he basically did do that in the Unleashed arc of that comic. He let that problem fester until it became an even bigger problem because, ironically, he didn't want to be a problem.

So one thing led to another. I thought more about Sonic becoming a zombie. Bada-bing, bada-boom, Infested was born.

I didn't expect it to get the attention that it did. I felt lucky when the first page I drew Rouge on (Page 6 I think?) blew up. The right people saw it at the right time. I'm extremely grateful for that.

I'm extremely grateful for all of you.

So yeah, one chapter. Woo! Here's to many more.

[girlgenius1111]

throw it all away

part 1 of 2 if no one is noticing any changes, there must not be a problem. but then, someone does notice. and there is a problem. that just isn't a reality you really feel like accepting. [putellas!reader]... alexia realizes you're struggling. how does she help you with something she doesn't understand? tw: this is a fic about r struggling with an ED. proceed with caution.

—

“You’ve lost weight.” 

It wasn’t said with an impressed nod or smile. It wasn’t said like a benchmark you’d met. It wasn’t said like it was a good thing.

Somehow, you knew it wouldn’t be. 

Instead, the physio’s voice was gentle, concerned. He spoke to you like he knew how you got here, but he couldn’t. How could he know?

No one noticed. Not your teammates, not your friends. Not Spain’s physios. Not even your sister. 

And that’s what you wanted. 

“Okay…” You said, like you didn‘t understand why he’d  brought this up. 

“Not a little weight. Enough that I’m concerned.” His eyes were squinted a little, like he was trying to see right through you. Still, you maintained your composure, kept your face blank. 

“Well, I didn’t have much of an off season. It’s been pretty nonstop even since the end of the league season. I’m just in shape.” 

He shook his head, now looking almost pityingly at you. “That’s what the issue is? You’re sure?” 

You did what you’d been doing for months: you lied. 

“Yep. Can’t think of anything else it could be.” Your tone was light, even as the weight of the unspoken words settled heavily on your chest. 

“We have to be careful with these things, you understand. We’ll change up your meal plan, and see how you are in a week. You’ll be on light training anyway, like the rest of the girls coming back. If it’s a matter of being overworked, we’ll get you back healthy in no time.”

He didn’t say what would happen if things didn’t go back to normal; if this wasn’t just being overworked. He didn’t need to. He was giving you a chance to correct this yourself before he has to involve the doctors and the coaches. And your sister. He was giving you a chance to fix this before it became a much, much bigger deal. 

As you left the medical room, you wished more than anything that this was a chance you could take, but you knew that it wasn’t. 

—

You knew the physio had opened his mouth a week later when he came out during a water break to pull Alexia, Irene, and Pere aside. He spoke to them quietly for a few minutes, all three of them furtively looking over at you every so often. You knew what you were in for when you got home; probably a very angry Alexia. Angry that you were jeopardizing your career and your health, throwing all your hard work away. For Alexia, football was the most important thing in the world. Sometimes it felt like it was more important than you, and you knew that she wouldn’t understand this. She would see what you were going through as a weakness, something you needed to quickly resolve, and get back to the most important thing. 

It was just that you weren’t capable of handling Angry Alexia right now. Not when you already felt kind of faint from training on an empty stomach, horribly grumpy because you were fucking hungry, and honestly still in denial that anything was wrong. It would lead to a whole blow up fight you didn’t want to get into, and as such, you weren’t looking forward to going home. Alexia surprised you. 

She’d started off angry, moving to stomp over, grab you, and haul you home so she could yell, when Irene grabbed her wrist and encouraged her to just listen for a second. 

“This is going to ruin her season.” Alexia seethed. “Does she not realize that she’s hurting the team?”

Irene regarded her incredulously for a moment, having to remind herself that the other woman’s brain just worked differently than hers. “Ale, she’s hurting herself. Whatever she’s doing isn’t a selfish decision she’s making. She’s sick.” 

Your sister grew quiet, chewing on her lip as she thought through Irene’s words. 

“You can’t yell, Ale. You can’t be mad at her. She needs help, and she isn’t going to want to accept it. You have to be careful with this, gentle and patient and kind. Okay?��� Irene said, staring hard at her co captain. 

“Yeah.” Alexia said quietly. “Pedro, do you know why… or how?” 

Pedro shook his head, worry clouding his face. “I asked her about it a week ago, and she pretended she had no idea what I was talking about. I told her she had a week to get back on track, but she didn’t. I don’t know how, or why. Those are both questions for your sister.” 

Alexia nodded, her gaze stuck on where you were stretching, just inside the gym tent. “Pere, can we go? I need to talk to her, and I know there needs to be a conversation with everyone, but she’ll just feel cornered if that’s where we start. I want to take her home to talk.” 

Pere agreed immediately, telling Alexia to take as much time as she needed, and reach out to the club for any help they could provide at all. Irene walked with the blonde in the direction of the tent, her arm slung across Alexia’s shoulders. 

“She isn’t going to want to talk to me.” Alexia murmured. “She hates talking about her feelings, especially with me.” 

Irene frowned. “You’re her sister. She trusts you more than she trusts anyone. Just stay calm and don’t get angry. I know when you worry you tend to get angry, but try not to let that happen. It won’t help.” 

Alexia nodded, having arrived at the entryway of the gym. Irene patted her on the back, telling her to call if she needed help, before she headed inside. She called you over, receiving a few odd looks from her teammates at the strange tone of her voice. 

Your sister could see how terrified you looked, even from all the way across the gym. Her heart clenched at the brave face you were trying to put on; it didn’t hide how scared you were.  

“Yeah?” You said, trying to act casual as you walked over to your sister, even though you felt kind of dizzy, and your head was pounding with a headache, not to mention the anxiety that was coursing through your veins. 

“We’re going home, we need to talk.” Her tone wasn’t clipped or sharp like you expected it to be. Her face wasn’t set with anger, her hands weren’t clenched into fists at her side. She looked strangely… calm. 

“Talk? About what?” You questioned, feeling defensive even if your sister wasn’t mad. 

“We’ll talk about it when we’re home. Let’s go.” With that, she led you out of the tent, back towards the main building. You stumbled slightly, the dizziness and nerves combining to make you a bit unsteady. 

Your sister steadied you, both her hands on her shoulders. “Are you okay? What’s wrong?” 

If you’d had any hopes that Alexia didn’t know what was going on, those disappeared. Her eyes flitted over you, her grip strong, as if she was worried you’d collapse or something. 

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Your voice was shaking, for a reason you weren’t quite sure of. 

Alexia softened, surprising you as she wrapped her arms around you tightly, pulling you into a hug. It was nice, comforting, and you sank into it, taking just a moment to allow yourself to be weak. 

It wasn’t comforting for your sister. Suddenly, all she could feel was the bones of your spine, more pronounced than they should be. It was a noticeable difference, and she knew that it likely felt more dramatic than it really was, considering the information the physio had given her, that this wasn’t that bad yet, that it was fixable. Still, your sister wanted to cry at how small you seemed against her. 

More than that, she wanted to cry that she hadn’t noticed this happening. 

—

You kept waiting for her to blow up. All the way to the locker room and to the car, all the way home, but she didn’t. She watched you carefully out of the corner of her eye, she carried your bag for you, and she insisted you drink an entire water bottle on the drive home. Alexia was worried, more than she was upset, and that was beginning to terrify you. 

She didn’t even really talk upon arriving home. She just set your bag down, looking around for Olga like the brunette would have all the answers to fix this. 

“Go shower, we can talk after, okay?” Alexia said over her shoulder, disappearing in the direction of the office Olga worked out of during the day. 

As you headed up the stairs, you wondered if the screen still slid out from your window as easily as it used to, when sneaking out was a bit of a habit. 

You wondered if your body could even take the jump down to the ground underneath your window. You wondered whether you even cared, if it meant that you’d get away from this conversation, escape the walls closing in around you.

—

Downstairs, Alexia was pacing a hole in the rug spread across the office floor. Olga was watching her march back and forth, waiting for her girlfriend to talk herself out, which she didn’t seem anywhere close to doing. 

“How could I miss this? Do I not pay enough attention? Is this my fault? Have I pushed her too hard? How long has this been going on? How did no one notice before now? What if-”

Olga stood, grabbing her girlfriend’s hands and putting her movements to a stop. “Amor, take a second. Relax. None of these questions need to be answered right now.” 

Alexia leaned almost imperceptibly into her girlfriend’s touch, desperate for anyone to tell her what to do here. 

“We need to talk to her. That’s where we start, and that is going to be hard, Ale. She probably doesn’t want to hear anything we have to say about this, and she might lash out, but you have to remember how much she must be hurting right now. You have to be patient, okay?” 

Alexia nodded her jaw tightening as her resolve strengthened. She’d be the most patient person in the world, if that’s what you needed. She’d do anything you needed her to, but the possibility that this wasn’t something that she could fix for you was terrifying her. She just wanted to help. 

—

When you came back downstairs after your shower, you knew you were in for an intervention. Ale and Olga were sitting on the couch next to each other, speaking in hushed tones. You approached them warily, sitting in the armchair across from the couch. 

Your sister took a deep breath, her eyes scanning over the piece of paper on the sofa next to her. It was a few notes that Pedro had given her, a few reminders she had for herself, and a few that Olga had added. 

Don’t get angry. She needs help, she doesn’t need your anger. 

Don’t push too hard, but don’t let her off with excuses.

 Be firm, but be kind. 

Don’t threaten to tell Mami, because she’ll just run. 

“I’m not mad.” Alexia started. Now that you were sure she wasn’t going to yell at you, you realized how much easier that would have been. You hated the concern on her face, the worry in her eyes. “You were looking at me earlier like I’d be mad at you, but I’m not mad.”

“Why would you be mad?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. Playing dumb always infuriated your sister, yet this time, she didn’t take the bait. 

“I talked to Pedro and Pere earlier. Pedro has some concerns, about you.” Your sister paused, looking at her girlfriend next to her, as if for reassurance. Olga nodded encouragingly, and Alexia straightened up. “I think you know what these concerns are, hermana.”

“I don’t.” You said quickly. “And I don’t appreciate you talking about me behind my back.” 

“You do.” Alexia said, still annoyingly calmly. 

“I really don’t, Alexia.” 

“Pequeña, please. I know that you aren’t okay. You don’t have to lie to me about that.” 

You wilted a little, eyes anywhere but on your sister, but she leaned forward, seeing an opportunity; a fracture in your walls. 

“I want you to be okay. I want you to get better, healthier.” Alexia said gently, her eyes flickering to the piece of paper in front of her every so often. It was a mix of her handwriting and Olga’s, though you couldn’t make out what it said. 

“I am better. I am healthier, Ale.” You argued weakly, finally looking at your sister. You half believed yourself, half knew that you were very far from healthy, the two conflicting sides waging war in your head. Would it be easier to admit defeat? To break down and let your sister fix you? You found that you didn’t really want to be fixed.

“Hermanita, this isn’t okay. You can’t keep going like this. It’s not safe.”

You shook your head defiantly, a single tear tracking down your cheek. “Alexia, I’m fine. You don’t need to worry.”

You didn’t think about the times you’ve cried yourself to sleep after having no choice but to eat a full dinner. You didn’t think about the way everything is just a touch more exhausting, now. You couldn’t think about that, you wouldn’t. You were fine. Why couldn’t Alexia see that? 

She just stared at you, blinking rapidly. Fighting back tears, you realized with a start. Her hand gripped Olga’s tightly, and you couldn’t fight the wave of guilt that hit you like a truck. She was worried, and you knew she should be. Somewhere deep inside, you knew. And that was the most terrifying part. 

“Cariño, I am so worried. You aren’t okay, I don’t understand how you can’t see that. You are an athlete, you know you need to fuel your body in the right way. You know this isn’t normal. Can’t you admit that?”

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, for the first time showing even a hint of emotion. It wasn’t anger, or sadness. It was fear. 

“I have it under control, Ale. I promise you, it’s under control.” Your voice wobbled, no confidence at all behind your words. Alexia shut her eyes tightly for a minute before blinking then open and looking at you in a much more intense way. 

“I don’t believe you.” 

You stood up, feeling a flare of anger surge through you. “I don’t care what you believe.” Moving to walk out the front door, though not sure where you were going, you froze at the sound of Alexia’s voice behind you. 

“You can leave, but we’re still going to have this conversation. I can wait, but the sooner we talk, the sooner you’ll be allowed back at training, and back on the team sheet.” 

You whirled around, hands balling into fists at your sides. “Since when am I off the team sheet?!” 

“Since today.” Alexia didn’t raise her voice to match yours, and she didn’t stand either. She remained sitting next to Olga, both of them looking at you so sympathetically, it made you want to sprint out of the house that instant. 

“How could you do that?” 

Alexia almost flinched at the genuinely betrayed tone of your voice, but she just shook her head. 

“I didn’t do anything, pequeña. The physios and Pere made this decision themselves, based off the information they have.” She replied, nodding towards the chair across from her again. “The only way you’re being allowed anywhere near training is if you talk.” 

“I don’t want to talk about this.” You snapped, throwing yourself down in the chair. 

“Well, we have to. I won’t watch you hurt yourself like this without saying anything.”

You flinched like she’d struck you. “I am not hurting myself, Alexia. I have it under control, it’s not dangerous, it’s not anything. It’s fine.” 

“You are hurting yourself. I don’t know how, but I know that you are. Whatever you are doing to make sure your body doesn’t gain weight is hurting you!” 

"You're being ridiculous, Alexia. Completely ridiculous." You spat back.

Nothing Alexia was saying was working. You remained just as defiant, just as frustrated. Nostrils flaring, hands clenched into fists, you refused to back down. 

Olga squeezed her girlfriend's hand, the blonde falling silent as she did so. 

“Pequeña, listen to me. We both love you so much. You are my sister, maybe not by blood, but in all the ways that count. And when you care about someone, it’s so hard to watch them go through something like this.”  

Olga’s voice was soft and gentle and somehow, the most threatening thing you’d heard. It was the way she looked at you, the way she spoke; like she knew what she was about to say would challenge you. 

“If this was anyone else doing what you’re doing, you’d have something to say. If this was a friend or a teammate, and you saw them doing this, you’d do something. Am I wrong?”

You found that you couldn’t lie, so you just shook your head. 

“Give yourself that same kindness. Give yourself that same love and care. You would get someone else help if they needed it, no matter what. Can you let us help you?”

Another tear ran down your cheek, your lip trembling as you fought to hold back your sobs. Only Olga’s hand in hers kept Alexia from leaping over the coffee table and pulling you into a hug. 

“I’m scared. I don’t want to.” You said finally. Your eyes fixed on Olga, refusing to look over at your sister and see the disappointment you knew was simmering. 

“But you need to. And you know you need to.” Olga said carefully. She watched as an array of emotions flashed across your face, until you finally landed on… resigned. 

“I… I don’t know where to start.” 

“That’s okay!” Alexia jumped in. “You don’t need to know. We can take it one step at a time. We’ll get through this, hermanita, I promise.” 

The way Alexia was talking made your stomach twist. There was no ‘we’ here. Alexia didn’t close her eyes when she got dressed in the morning, didn’t turn her back to the mirror before she showered. She didn’t have to come up with excuses to go to the bathroom after a big meal, she didn’t know exactly how to move her food around her plate to look like she’d eaten more than she had. Alexia loved you, and you had no doubt that this was hurting her, but there was no comparison to what you’d been putting yourself through. Alexia couldn’t fix this for you, couldn’t even really fix it with you. It was something you had to entirely be committed to, recovery, something that would take strength from the deepest parts of you. Alexia couldn’t promise that you’d get through it. It wasn’t up to her.

You didn’t say any of that to your sister. What good would that have done? Instead, you dropped your head into your hands, and tried to breathe. You still couldn’t quite believe this was happening, and a part of you wished you’d wake up and it would all be some horrible dream, and no one would actually know. Another part of you, though, felt like sobbing in relief that someone had finally noticed. 

Unbeknownst to you, Alexia and Olga were having a silent conversation. Alexia wanted to drag you into the kitchen and make you eat lunch, since she was absolutely sure that you hadn’t had breakfast. She wanted to talk, and talk some more, and find you a therapist, and call her Mami and tell her what was going on. She wanted to do every little thing she could think of, because she was sure if she tried hard enough, she could control this enough for you to be okay.

Olga knew better. She looked at you and could tell that you were barely restraining yourself from curling up into a ball and crying. She knew trying to make you eat a full meal in the way Alexia intended to right now would push you too hard. She knew that you needed time and space to process and breathe. The brunette could see how easily you’d be overwhelmed here, and it was this knowledge that had her firmly telling Alexia what she was to do. 

“Go upstairs and shower. I’ve got her.” She whispered, kissing Alexia’s cheek softly. 

Her girlfriend looked at her in confusion, both of them exchanging a few glances before Alexia gave in. 

“Please try to get her to eat something.” The blonde whispered back, standing and beginning to head upstairs. She paused at your chair, opening her mouth to say something before thinking better of it. Instead, she just kissed the crown of your head and headed upstairs. 

Only once Olga heard the shower turn on upstairs did she finally move, walking around the coffee table and crouching in front of you. 

“Nena?” She called softly. 

You looked up apprehensively. 

“What do you need right now? You tell me, and that’s what we’ll do.” 

Control. Olga was giving you control, but you didn’t know what to do with it. You felt overwhelmingly lost, not even sure if you could put one foot in front of the other without someone telling you how to. 

“I… don’t know.” You replied, shrugging your shoulders. 

“That’s okay.” Olga assured you. “We don’t have to talk any more today, but I’d like you to try to eat something. It doesn’t have to be big, or a whole meal, but something. Is there anything you’d like?” 

No, there wasn’t, you wanted to snap. That was part of the problem. Instead of snapping, though, you found yourself thinking. “Protein shake?” You requested shakily. 

Olga nodded, smiling proudly at you. “Protein shake and a piece of toast, I think.” 

You found yourself agreeing, somehow, rising from your chair and following Olga into the kitchen. You tried to think of what would be worse; eating or talking. Both seemed like pretty abysmal choices, but Olga set your small meal down in front of you, and you knew there wasn’t really a choice. As quickly as it had been handed over to you, you felt the control slipping out of your grasp. The shower turned off upstairs, and you reached for the glass, bracing yourself for everything you were about to feel, and everything Alexia was probably about to say.

—

back in my two parter era. let me know what you all think :)

[redheadspark]

Here (Part Two)

Summary - Azriel stays by his mate's side, not knowing his family is rallying behind him to find out who attempting to kill his mate

Warnings - Mostly Angst

A/N - Part of the Ocean Eyes Series. I posted this as a sequel of Part One, which got insanely reactions! I am so glad you guys liked Part One and I hope you like Part Two!

Part Three Found Here

"What's the plan, Rhys?"

"I'm focusing more on my cousin's health and her life in the balance than dealing with her attacker."

"That's not where my head is,"

"Enlighten me then, Cassian,"

Cassian rolled his shoulders and eyed his High Lord as Rhysand was perched at his desk in his office, the sun setting over the rolling hills outside the River House, and the cooler air was blown onto the office with ease. Cassian leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and his head reeling with questions and scenarios that he wanted to figure out immediately. But Rhysand was remaining calm, too calm for the Illyrian Army Commander's liking. He considered the wounded Illryian who was asleep upstairs, his friend's mate, his family. Someone tried to hurt his family and take away his family, and Cassian was fuming from the inside out.

But he was also a changed Illyrian, just as Rhysand and Azriel were. They were all fathers now: Rhysand with Nyx, Azriel with Alec, and Cassian with his daughter Rose. His daughter, sweet and yet fiery Rose was a splitting image of her mother but had his infectious and playful heart. They all had offspring to protect and think about, no more rash decisions and acting out on a limb. The children had to come first, and Cassian was not willing to do anything that would bring his family harm. Azriel never did that himself, yet that led to Alec almost being killed as a toddler and Azriel's mate now in a bed upstairs hanging between life and death. Nesta would never let Cassian do anything like that, not just for Rose but for Nesta too.

Cassian was the one who found you first, sprawled on the forest floor bleeding from your wing and the arrow still hanging out of your wing. You both were out in the outline border of Velaris, Cassian getting a hunch that there were rogue beings there making their way across the border into Velaris territory. You on the other hand were meeting with some of the farmers and shopkeepers that lived in the cottages there to check on them and talk business in contributing to the Community Center.

Maybe it was fate that he was there and come enough to hear your scream out, but he knew your scream far too well from knowing you since you both were younglings. He flew towards the wail you let out, his heart hitting against his chest far too hard and thinking it was a trick of the mind.

Everything slowed down for him as he gathered you in his arms, you were out cold and the poison already working in your blood. He had to act quickly, time was of the essence, and your time was about to be snuffed out if he didn't get you help in time. 

"The marks on the arrow," Cassian stated, reflecting on the arrow that was piercing your wing and sicking out so harshly that it sickened him to rethink it again, "We need to know where they came from so we get a hunch as to who did this,"

"I already have a big hunch, and I got in contact with the very High Lord that I'm thinking," Rhysand hummed, his cooldemeanor was hiding the anger he had. Cassian raised a brow at him as Rhysand rang his thumb over his fingers back and forth, a tactic he would use when he was thinking deeply, "High Lord Beron has been notified and is coming tonight,"

"What?" Cassian asked in shock, standing up stiffly and no longer leaning against the wall. 

"He knows the utmost importance of this since it does involve my cousin…my fucking family," Rhysand said the last part in a low tone, not a growl but close enough, "We are going to meet at the Townhouse since I know both yourself and Nesta would rather not have the High Lord of Autumn Court in your home,"

Cassian snorted, then gave him a questioning look, "Does Elaine and Lucien know what happened?"

"Feyre reached out and told them to stay at their home here in Velaris for the time being. In fact, I don't want any of the Inner Circle going anywhere outside of Velaris until this is resolved once and for all. We either stay in our homes or at The House of Wind until I say so," Rhysand explained as his violet eyes looked out the window to see the last images of the sun still in the sky before it hid into the horizon.

"Is that an order?" Cassian asked, Rhysand’s eyes shot back to his Commander.  Cassian, though tamer than he used to be when he was younger, was still reckless at heart at times. Something inside of him wanted him to find whoever did this and bring them pain. You were family to him, meeting him through Rhysand when he was a boy and considered him a brother of yours. His rational side was teetering to be pushed aside, and he was fine with it.

"I don't want another member of my family hurt, Cass. I consider you family, long before you became my brother-in-law. You need to think of your wife and daughter and that they need you," Rhysand explained to Cassian, seeing Cassian's eyes soften from the mention of Nesta and Rose, "We need to be smart about this, not reckless. I want you with me when we meet with High Lord Beron,"

Cassian hummed, knowing that Rhysand was right when it came to being reckless. He then gestured his head over to the doors that lead out of the office, "What about Azriel?"

"I don't want him anywhere else but with his wife, she's his priority now. And besides, I would rather not leave Azriel alone in the room with High Lord Beron. That's if Beron, or Autumn Court for that matter, did have something to do with this. He is not in the right frame of mind to be anywhere else," 

Cassian knew he was right about that too. The rage Azriel must be feeling at this moment, not knowing who in factharmed and attempted to kill his mate, must have been explosive. Cassian himself has been Azriel in such a way before, the anger that would fester deep down and be unlashed by either his shadows or his Truth Tellers. Cassian and strength behind him, but Azriel had something deeper.

Something more menacing.

"Alec is also staying here until his mother is well again, though he still doesn't know what precisely happened," Rhysand explained as he got up from his chair and walked around the desk to stand near Cassian with his arms folded in front of him, "I don't want Alec anywhere else but here, he's my nephew and he needs to be protected now more than ever. We all do, but epically him: someone is hunting his mother and father, and I won't let him become an orphan under my roof,"

"None of us want that, Rhys," Cassian reasoned with Rhysand, "He's secure and protected here with you and Feyre, and he's safe with his father, the safest he’ll ever be,”

"Which is why we need to be smart. For now, let's just focus on this meeting with Beron and making sure my cousin is comfortable and safe while she heals and come back to full health," Rhysand stated, then pausing as he gave Cassian a more cornered look, "How is Alec and Azriel now?"

"Alec's okay, he just misses his mother. As for Azriel…it's hard for him," Cassian confessed. Rhysand hummed and rubbed his eyes, already thinking of the next steps that were to come. The meeting tonight would be far too important, life-changing, and yet his cousin was still in the back of his mind and her health was his main concern. 

All he could do now was hold onto his Inner Circle, his family, so close in hopes they wouldn't slip away.

"Alright, buddy. Time for bed, okay?"

"Ok, daddy,"

Azriel softly smiled as he watched his son hop into the massive bed he was going to sleep in, the guest room that wasacross from where you were still sleeping and still healing. He left the door slightly open, being able to see you from where he was in Alec's guest room as Alec was settling into his bed. 

Alec was only told that his mother was sick, severely sick, and he was not able to see her.  Of course, it confused him at first, not understanding that he wasn't able to see his own mother since he had seen her sick before, but he knew better than to question his father.  Seeing Azriel looking worn down and defeated made Alec worry all the more. 

But Feyre was a step ahead, making sure he was well fed at dinnertime and kept him busy with his cousin Nyx until it was time for him to go to bed. Still, his mother was in the back of his mind, wondering what was it that made his mother so sick. He missed his mother, hugging her and hearing her voice telling him goodnight. Azriel tried his best to be present with Alec, but his son caught onto something that was hidden from him. 

Perhaps a trait he inherited from his father.

"Alec, I know this is different from what we're used to," Azriel explained to Alec, who was watching his father with his wide blue eyes as he was snuggled under the soft sheets of the bed, "But you are being such a trooper for going with the flow of it all.  I promise you that things are going to go back to normal soon, okay? As soon as momma is all better, we'll go back to our house and things will be back to the way they were,"

"Is it going to be forever?" Alec asked tentatively as he searched his father's tired eyes. Azriel felt a twinge of pain that his son was still kept in the dark, so speak, when it came to what truly happened to his mother. The last thing Azriel ever wanted to do was to lie to his son like this, to have that trust broken at any moment. 

"No, not forever, baby," He reassured Alec as he pushed the inky black hair out of his son's blue eyes, "This is not forever, I swear to you. You believe me?"

"Yes, Daddy," Alec replied, Azriel smiled at his son and leaned over to kiss the top of his head. He was about to leave his son to sleep, and as Azriel eased himself up from the bed, Alec spoke up again in a gentler tone. So gentle, that it sounded like the curtains were swaying in his room from the night breeze.

"Daddy, is momma gonna be okay?"

Azriel could have cried then, seeing his son watch him for an answer. Azriel never wanted this for his family, the fear of losing someone he loved and another person he loved was filled with fear and worry. Alec was only four years old, far too young for something like this to happen in his life. Nothing could prepare him for this: consoling his son and hoping that his wife would pull through. 

Alec needed his mother, Azriel knew that deep down. There was no greater bond than Alec's bond with his mother, it was thick and filled with so much happiness and love. Inwardly, Azriel wanted that himself with his mother, and he did have that in the blink of a moment when he was young.  To see his mate give that same love to his son was beyond rewarding.

Now his son, looking at his father with worry in his young eyes, was asking about his mother.

"Yeah…yeah she's gonna be okay," he reassured Alec. He had to give Alec hope, the hope that his mother would be herself again. Although he had very little hope, he would at least give some of that hope to his son. He leaned down and kissed his son one more time, "Get some sleep, okay? I'm gonna check on momma and come back to you, I love you,"

"I love you too, Daddy," Alec replied, then curled into the bed under the sheets as Azriel moved away. He felt like he needed to be in two places at once: with Alec and with you. Although you were sleeping and till healing, Alec needed you and needed your warmth. Azriel wished he could change it all, make you all better so you can hold your son. Yet as he watched Alec fall asleep, facing the window with a look of peace on his face, Azriel could breathe a bit easier. 

He kept the door into the guest room open slightly, mostly in case Alec needed him as he walked silently across the hall into the room where you were in. Still asleep, facing the empty chair where Azriel was perched for the past few hours, the moon shining into your room to cast a bluish light along your still wounded wings. Azriel could even see the moonlight shine through the thin membrane of your wings, showing the veins and the damage from the Ash Arrow.

But the way you were snuggled against the body pillow, head against the soft pillow, and your long hair draped over your shoulder, you looked more peaceful than you did earlier when Azriel found you. Azriel sat down on the chair, taking in a long breath as he held his hands together in his lap and watched you. Your deep breathing, the softness that was now slowly coming back along your skin and your cheeks thanks to the medicine from Madja. 

"I might be talking to myself here, but I hope you can hear me," Azriel said aloud in the room, his voice sounding a bit raw as he watched you in earnest, "But I need you to pull through and get better. I….I don't think I can do this without you. I won't have the strength to, no matter how hard I'll have to try. I need you, our son needs you. He needs his momma, and I…I don't wanna do this alone and without you."

He might have sounded silly since he was talking alone in the room, but then again he needed to get it off his chest. Bottling up all his fear that he's had for the past few hours, would have suffocated him. The only person he was ever safe to unload his feelings, to be open and exposed therapeutically, was the one who was asleep in front of him and unable to be fully present with him.

"I'm sorry I failed you and couldn't protect you," Azriel admitted, sinking a bit in his chair as he was fiddling with his fingers, Clutching them together tightly and refusing to let them go, "I promised you when we were mated that I would protect you, keep you safe and never let anything happen to you. I broke that promise, and I know I can never repair that,"

He thought that if you were awake, you would reprimand him for being hard on himself. Azriel could even hear it clearly in his mind, your kind voice scolding him for being immensely harsh towards himself. You've always helped him out of his moods and insecurities, including what he does and how he takes care of others around him. Azriel thought back to a talk that he had with you when Alec was still a young infant, he was voicing his worry about taking care of his family and if he was doing enough. 

He needed you to bring him back to the light, and not have him hide in the darkness.

Azriel reached out and took your hands in his own, feeling the coolness of your skin and yet how soft they were. Healways loved your soft hands, a soothing balm against his calloused and scarred skin. He leaned down and kissed the back of your hand, his lips along your skin had you shift in your sleep and hum.

"Sleep and come back to me, come back to us. Your son and I need you more than anything, so I need you to get your strength and open those eyes for me when you're ready. I'm here when you wake up, I promise.  I love you more than life itself, more than my own life, and if I could trade mine for yours then I would in a heartbeat. Just gather your strength, we'll be here waiting for you," Azriel proclaimed to you and your sleeping form.  He did speak the truth: he would trade his life for yours since at times he felt you had more good for the world than he ever did.

Azriel cannot picture a world without you, without any of your beautiful traits or your tender heart. 

Azriel heard it, almost like a whisper, as he was dead asleep with Alec cradled in his arms in the spare guest room.  His arms were tucked around his son, who was snuggled against his father and snoring softly. It was so soft, like a breeze, which didn't disturb the Spymaster at first.

But it was also distinct, not the sound of the curtains fluttering next to the bed or the very soft ticking of the clock on the fireplace mantle.  This was a shutter of a whisper, and it was calling his name.

Azriel…..Azriel….

His shadows hummed, licking along Azriel's arms as he stirred a bit in his sleep. Alec was thankfully a deep sleeper and stayed in slumber, even though his father was feeling the sensation not just with his shadows but in his mind. It was a familiar voice, so familiar that maybe it was a trick of the mind as Azriel took in a long breath. But he heard it again, a pinch louder and his name being called out as if the source was so far away.  Fighting through a fog that was thick and almost recognizable.

Azriel…Azriel…

Azriel was still asleep, but it was becoming more alert as the voice was getting a bit louder now in his mind. It was no longer a dream, it was something else, something familiar to him.  So familiar like coming through the front door of the small little cottage where he lived, or flying amongst the cloud with his wings stretched. Even the familiar touch of your lips against his own made him feel safe.

But he finally heard it, and his eyes shot open on high alert.

Azriel….I'm here…

It was you, your voice, speaking through the bond.

You were awake.

To Be Continued….

A/N - Part three?!?! Let me know if you want a part three!

Tagging - @valeridarkness @impossibelle @acourtofbatboydreams @prettylittlewrites @fxckmiup @sizzlingstarlightsky @iluvyewman-blog @masbt1218 @a-courtof-azriel @homeslices @zanzie @topaz125

[satorusugurugurl]

My Wedding Date is an Escort!

Summary: When invited to your best friend's wedding, you panic. One of the groomsmen, Toji Fushiguro, is your ex-fiancè. Not wanting to deal with probing questions and the embarrassment of being single, your friend Haibara recommends using an Escort! Taking a leap of faith, you book one my, the hottest one. Gojo Satoru is hot, sweet, and funny! The package deal! Men and Women pay thousands to go on a date with him (even more, which he doesn't do often). So when your request comes in, the desperation and pleading tone of your voice. Gojo’s heartthrobs, even more so when you tell him you don't want to have sex.

Pairing: Escort!Gojo x FAB Reader

Word Count: 2,055

Warning: Fluffy fluff! Happy endings 🥹💚

A/N: And with that, My Wedding Date is an Escort is complete! I am open to writing one shots for our fluffy couple if y’all have any requests! God this has been a journey thank you all so much for the love and support!! I hope you continue to enjoy my other series as well! 💚💚💚

Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five Part Six Part Seven

Epilogue:

Two Years Later.

Gojo stirred in bed, reaching for your side and finding it cold like every other morning. He knew where you were from the smell of cinnamon rolls baking downstairs. He fucking loved cinnamon rolls. Satoru walked out into your living room with a stretch and a yawn before strutting towards the stairs that led down to the bakery.

You stood there talking to one of your customers, handing them a bright pink box tied with a white ribbon. He stood at the top of the stairs, just watching you for the longest of times. You moved elegantly over the floor to the display case packaging and different pastries for your customers. Before heading into the back, one of your workers took over for you.

Seizing the opportunity, Satoru followed you through the metal swinging door into the back. You stood there, checking the contents inside the oven. When you had your back turned, he snuck up behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist. The sudden contact had you jumping at first before you turned to look over your shoulder up at him.

“Good morning,” he said in a gruff voice.

“Mornin’ Toru.” Soft lips pressed lovingly against his cheek. “I made you an omelet. It’s in the microwave.”

“Fuuuck,” he happily sighed, “I love you so damn much.”

Turning to face him, you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your lips. “Mmm, I love you too, Toru.” Satoru kissed you back eagerly, his hands gripping your hips, pulling your flesh against him. “Ah, Toru~!” Giggles were music to his ears; he growled, wanting to do nothing more than toss your pastries to the ground and take you into the kitchen. “Satoru~ haaah,” You gasped as his lips hurriedly trailed down your neck. “We can't.”

“Yes, we can~” he growled hungrily, “come on, I'll be fast.”

For a second, Satoru could see your eyes searching for a place where you two could have a quickie. Just as you were pulling him to the very back, where the cooling racks would conceal you, the door to the front swung open, and Suguru walked in, duffle bag over his shoulder, backpack on his back. The three of you froze as Suguru glanced between you two, his face twisting into a look of disgust.

“Please tell me,” Suguru pinched the bridge of his nose. “you both weren't about to fuck back here.”

“W-What! N-No!” of course, you would be the first to deny his accusation, quickly shaking your head.

Your boyfriend, on the other hand, pouted, throwing his head back in dismay. “Such a cock block Suguru!” Both of his best friends turned to stare at him. The silence was palpable until Suguru groaned, his eyes landing on you, giving you the most disappointing look he could muster.

“Really?”

“S-Suguru, I can explain.”

“I should report your ass to the health department.” He teased, striding forward and smacking Satoru upside the head. “Stop corrupting my best friend, you horny blue-eyed freak.”

Satoru gasped dramatically, placing his hand over his chest. Faux hurt, painting his face as he furrowed his brows together. A look that didn’t stop Suguru from snatching a strawberry off the counter and popping it in his mouth. Not that it phased you as you walked back to the oven, pulling out a tray.

“I thought I was your best friend?!”

“Nah, I like your girlfriend more.” Suguru tossed a strawberry at you. “Even if she's a little freak, too.”

You placed the cookie tray on the counter, tossing an oven mitt back at Suguru. “Hey, I was minding my own business! Satoru’s the one that woke up and chose to be horny.” Satoru slowly smirked, nodding his head.

“Can't help it; seeing the cute pastry chef working in my bakery just does things for me.” Both you and Suguru turned to stare at him. “Wanted to bring you back here and give you an in-depth evaluation.”

“Gross.” Suguru chucked a strawberry at Satoru’s face.

“I didn't know you were my ‘boss’ last time I checked; You lived with me.” You put both hands on your hips, smirking as Satoru blinked.

“Live with you?” Satoru gaped, eyes turning towards a smirking Suguru. “Did I, or did I not invest in her shop?”

“Technically, he did.”

Satoru strode forward, cupping your cheek. “He just wants me for my pastries.” You teased, standing on your tiptoes and kissing him.

“That and your body.” he teased, kissing you back, growling against your lips.

“Oh my god, please stop. We have a train to catch.” Suguru grumbled, rolling his eyes at the groan from his best friend.

“Suguru’s right, baby; hurry and eat.”

Satoru grabbed the omelet from the microwave, pausing to look down at you. “Say~ you busy on Saturday?”

There’s a certain sparkle in your eyes, one that has Satoru head over heels. You tilt your head to the side, glancing up at the ceiling and thinking. “Hmm, I have a wedding to go to.” Satoru’s chest swells with excitement as he eats some of his food.

“Oh really?”

“Mhmm~!”

“Need a date?”

“Oh yeah, I totally need one.”

The adoration and love in your eyes mirrored his own. “Great, sounds like we got a plan.” He lovingly kissed you on the forehead. “Three days, sweetheart! Three days!” Satoru ran up the stairs, humming happily; three days to him would feel like three decades. Saturday, needed to hurry up and get here already!

Luckily for Satoru, three days flew by. His stomach fluttered as Suguru smoothed out his suit jacket. Suguru’s eyes focused on his best friend's neck, where he could see his racing pulse.

“You remember what you told me when you got back from Kyoto two years ago?”

“Uh, thanks for telling me I was a fucking idiot?” Satoru said before taking a deep breath.

Suguru laughed, shaking his head. “You said that which you're still welcome for.” The dark-haired man straightened his back before patting his best friend on the shoulder. “You told me you found the one. Then proceeded to ask me to be a witness at your wedding.” Blue eyes followed Suguru; he looked at himself in the mirror, fixing his jacket. “I honestly thought you were out of your mind back then.” Satoru was a second away from recording back with a snarky remark. “But, I’m happy to admit I was wrong, and you were right. She is the one meant for you.” without another word, Suguru pulled his best friend into a tight embrace.

“Suguru—”

“I’m happy for both of you.” Silence spreads between the two. “But if you hurt her, I will kill you myself.”

A knock at the door sent the two men flying back from each other. “Satoru.” Your mother peeked her head inside. “It’s time.” she has tears in her eyes as Satoru takes a final deep breath.

“If you’ll excuse me, I have a wedding date to get to!”

Two years ago, he received a call from a girl desperate for a wedding date. The same girl had proceeded to steal his heart over the course of a week. In two years, the two of you had moved in together, shared meals with one another, and planned a future together. A future that had come true thus far.

You owned your bakery, and Satoru helped manage it with you, being your number one customer and investor. The two of you happily lived in the loft above the shop, furnished to make it your home. Everything you both wanted had come true. Today, you both will finalize the plans that you had made two years prior.

Satoru stood in the gardens of your family's inn, decorated with vibrant flowers. He watched as your closest friends walked down the aisle one after another in pairs, but he honestly didn't care about them. All that mattered to him was seeing you.

His wish was granted as the official told the guest in front of him to stand. His eyes met yours down the aisle, his breath catching in his throat at your breathtaking appearance. Your wedding gown was elegant and suited you perfectly. Showing off your figure, he loved it so remarkably much. Your face was visible behind the veil, and your eyes never left his as your father led you down the aisle toward him.

Satoru felt his eyes burning as tears streamed down his cheeks. How was it possible for you to look even more stunning than you already did? You are like a goddess compared to him.

Suguru gently pats his shoulder, grinning as his best friend wipes uselessly at his eyes. He finally regained some form of composure once you’re standing before him, taking his hand in your own. His heart is thundering as he pulls you in and turns to the official with the biggest smile. He had told your mother two years ago that the next wedding they hosted at the inn would be yours.

And he had been faithful to his words.

The ceremony was sweet and quick; you exchanged your vows and beamed at the official. “I now pronounce you man and wife. You may now kiss the bride!” Satoru threw your veil back, cupped your face, and kissed you as if the word was ending.

The crowd cheered and clapped as you both held hands, running up the aisle and back into the gardens. The second you were away from peering eyes, Satoru kissed you again, and again, and again until pulling away with a happy sigh. You felt lighter than air as his cerulean eyes roamed over your face.

“I think that was the best wedding date I’ve ever been on.” You proudly announced as he intertwined your fingers.

“Is that so, Mr. Gojo?” Your husband perks up, eyes darting down at you with sparkles in them.

“Why yes, Mrs. Gojo, it was.” You giggle at the use of your new last name. “Ooh, someone likes that new name~!!”

You shake your head, grinning softly. “No, I don't like it.” For a moment, you think Satoru is about to die of shock. “I love it!”

Satoru breathed a sigh of relief before cupping your face in his hands and kissing you as passionately as he could. With wide eyes, you moan into the kiss as he pushes the toy back against the wall of the inn. One hand grabs your hip, and the other remains on your face. You melt against him as he pulls back, your hot, desperate breath mingling together before he squeezes your hip, meeting your lips again, this time with a gentler kiss.

“And I love you. I hope you got enough sleep in the last two years, because I plan on showing you how much I love you on our honeymoon.”

“Oh my god, Toru~!” A squeal of pure joy rocks through you as he lifts you up carrying you across the gardens towards the photographers.

“Hey~ save that for the honeymoon suite baby~!” Your giggled as you both took the steps towards you very long and happy marriage. A marriage that all started with a wedding date.

Tag List:

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Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe

[deviantdaffodil]

lust

miguel o’hara x reader smut

im actually genuinely obsessed and deeply worried about my mental health . the grip spiderman 2099 has on me is unwavering and im afraid i will never get to escape

contains: breeding, marking/biting, office sex, spontaneous sex, stress relief sex fr, clawing, size difference, slightly jealous miguel, very dominating miguel, im obsessed with miguel, a more in character miguel this time i hope

A deep sigh escapes your throat. You really did not have to deal with O’hara right now; it’s been a long day. Sure, you were thankful he allowed you to stay in the spider society occasionally, despite just being a normal civilian, but god did he aggravate you. Often. He called you to his office for god knows what reason. You were anxious as you entered the office. Anyone in their right mind would be.

He gazes down at you, his stare is cold and his face is stoic. “Glad you could make it,” his tone is hard to read. He didn’t sound upset. But he also didn’t sound glad to see you. You keep quiet, deciding to just let him speak. His eyes are piercing through the dimly lit room; the sun was setting so the sky didn’t do much in terms of lighting the room up. Miguel continues to glare down at you, silent and judgmental. Instead of just allowing his platform to slowly make its way down to you, Miguel simply lunges down to you. He stands before you, still towering over you. His lack of communication was making you anxious as he would usually tear someone in here a new one if need be. He silently slips his arm around your waist and shoots a web up, bringing you both up to where his desk is located.

After being set down you recompose yourself with a chuckle. “I’m- I’m never gonna get used to that..” You pause for a moment, choosing your next words carefully. Heat radiated off your body and Miguel’s too. He still had his arm around you and you were too locked in place by a mix of fear and shock to move. “What is it that you wanted to see me about?” You look up at him.

He exhaled. He felt like he needed that. “This- This isn’t easy.. to admit,” Miguel mumbles. The claws of his suit had a grip on your waist, but you were still too paralyzed by shock to do anything. “I.. I want you all to myself. If I could keep you up here all to myself without seeming insane, I would, in a heartbeat.” He looks down at you, his eyes locking with yours.

This was absolutely news to you. You yourself had a thing for Miguel for the longest time. But you had no idea he wanted you this bad. Your mouth sat agape as he spoke to you. The Miguel O’hara.. wants you? All to himself? You would hang out with him while he worked sometimes, but you definitely didn’t see this kind of thing coming, especially not from someone as professional as him.

He turns to you, putting his hands on your shoulders. His gaze was fiery and he dug his claws into your shoulders. “You’re just.. such a relaxer to me. When you’re around, I don’t worry about all of.. this,” he motions to his desk. “But you.. you. You make it all better.” A growl rumbles in this throat. “I have a request- a-a suggestion maybe.”

Your jaw still hangs open. You shut your jaw and blink repeatedly. “What.. do you have in mind?”

A flash of excitement streaks across his face. “Sex,” he blatantly stated. He didn’t try to sugar coat it or anything. He wanted to fuck you more than anything. Even now, seeing you look up at him like that, in utter shock as he grips your shoulders has his cock aching. “I’m so.. so tired of seeing you with other spidermen. I need you.”

You paused, completely baffled. “Y-Yes!” You cried out, a little too eager for your liking. You hated to admit it, but you absolutely wanted him. “I-I mean, yes. Yes I’m okay with that.” Miguel did not hesitate. His claws immediately ripped open your clothes, exposing your chest. Miguel’s claws retracted and he immediately attacked your chest, latching his lips onto one of your nipples, the other being massaged by his hand. “O-Oh my god!” Your impulse cry of ecstasy caused Miguel to groan.

He peppered kisses up your neck, his big, calloused hands massaging your breasts. “I’m going to make you mine,” his lips are right next to your ear, his voice is low and husky. “Can I bite you?” You nodded, lost in the feeling of his fingers massaging your nipples. He groans as he drags his fangs across your skin before burying them into the crook of your neck. You let out a moan. His fangs sunk deep into your flesh, he was very careful not to release any venom though. He wanted to make sure you felt every bit of what he was about to do to you. The stinging sensation of the bite slowly faded to pleasure. He keeps his mouth latched onto your neck, sliding his hand down your body and letting his hand rest on your ass, squeezing gently. He pulls his fangs out of you, blood dripping from them now. You look into his eyes and bite your lip.

“Kiss me,” you whispered breathlessly as you grab his face in your hands, slamming your lips together. The taste of your blood was on his tongue, he gently bites your lower lip and tangles his hands in your hair. “Miguel,” your voice was high pitched and whiny, more so than you wanted. Miguel didn’t mind and in fact reveled in the fact he was able to do this to you. He continues peppering your skin with kisses, sliding your shorts and underwear down your body. He then rips his own suit off his skin, instantly cooling his body and setting his cock free.

He grabs a fistful of your hair and bends you over his desk, lining his cock up with your dripping cunt. “I need you,” his chest is pressed against your back and he slowly thrusts his cock in between your thighs. “So plump and warm,” he moaned in your ear, sliding his hands under your chest pinching your nipples.

“Oh, Miguel,” you moan, your face pressed against the wood of his desk. “Fuck me, please,” you cried, your lip quivering in anticipation.

Miguel slid his hands down to your hips, lightly raking his claws down your flesh, small beads of blood forming at the scratches left behind. He grabs the base of his cock, rubbing his tip in your wet folds. You whimper in anticipation, then Miguel stuffed the tip of his cock in your hole. He was so big it felt like he was ripping you in half. He was griping your hips and digging his claws into them for better leverage. “So little,” he muttered as he pounded into you, “so.. tight..” His thrusts were shallow, working his way up to filling you completely. “Can you take it all? Do you think you can handle all of my big cock?” He was babbling while he thrusted, drunk on your pussy already.

“Please Miguel,” your small frame whimpered for him. “More please..”

Miguel pulled out almost all of the way, a whimper escaped you when due to feeling empty. He spat on his cock and slowly pushed his throbbing, swollen cock into your quivering pussy. Tears pricked the corner of your eyes and the two of you moaned at the new feeling. Miguel began thrusting wildly, pounding hard in deep, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix. “Wh-Where?” he asked, in reference to where you wanted him to cum.

You turned back to face him as best as you could. Looking into his eyes you say, “Inside.” This sends him into overdrive. He’s pounding deep into you at animalistic speeds. You were sure if you were on your back you’d have a bulge from his swollen head protruding out. He latches his fangs onto your other shoulder as he growls, completely feral, and cums inside of you. You cry out as he bites you again, your walls clenching around his cock as you cum. He continues thrusting sloppily, letting your tight cunt milk all of his seed. He retracts his claws and holds himself up over you, hands at either side of your head. He pulls out of you and you can feel sweat dripping from his forehead.

“Miguel.. You ruined my clothes.”

“Mierda.. Yeah I did.”

[whats-amata-you]

Alright y’all hear me out, but I kinda like this interpretation of the Kaiba brothers where they have to deal with the consequences of a very codependent sibling relationship. Not like in the “something happens to Mokuba and Seto has a crisis” kind way, but in the “Mokuba doesn’t know who the hell he is outside the context of being Seto’s little brother” kind of way.

Literally everything Seto ever did from the day Mokuba was born was toward the singular goal of Mokuba’s wellbeing. He sacrificed everything to give Mokuba better opportunities, a more stable home life, a better chance at happiness than Seto ever really had for himself. Seto even gave up huge swaths of who he himself was to work toward that goal. It was all for Mokuba.

But Mokuba was right there with him, the whole time, watching his brother suffer and doing everything in his power to protect him. Mokuba’s whole identity revolves just as much around Seto as Seto’s does around Mokuba.

And that’s fucked up all well and good when Seto’s a teenager and Mokuba hasn’t even hit puberty and only one of them is really taking on any serious adult responsibility. But imagine what that must be like when Mokuba grows up.

Imagine being 20 and as long as you can remember you’ve been worrying about keeping your older brother alive. Maybe he’s in late twenties or early thirties now, and life has finally forced him to either do the work of healing and moving on or else spiraling into self-destruction to the point that not even you can save him anymore. Maybe he’s married off and happy in his own life, or maybe he’s dead or missing and left you behind as his only heir to the family fortune.

And you’re just as completely, utterly lost either way because either way, he doesn’t need you the same way anymore. And on top of that, you realize you don’t really need him the same way anymore.

His routines aren’t yours anymore. His moods don’t set the tone for your whole day anymore. You don’t plan your life around him and his needs anymore.

So. What do you do when you’re suddenly cut loose and left adrift?

I imagine Mokuba floating through life a lot for his twenties, maybe into his thirties. He’s got no sense of direction or purpose without Seto being the center of it all. He realizes he doesn’t have to become a businessman like Seto and help run Kaiba Corporation, but doesn’t know what the hell else he might even want to do. Doesn’t even have a clue. He goes into business anyway because he knows he has to do something, but he doesn’t really enjoy it and it wears on him. He’s popular with women but can’t make a relationship last more than a few weeks; they keep fizzling out because he just doesn’t seem to have any ambition.

It’s super easy for Mokuba to see and acknowledge how Seto was always sort of his dad when they were kids, as well as his brother. Seto actively took up the role and wasn’t shy about saying so outright. But I don’t think either of them realizes quite as easily just how much Mokuba was parentified too, even from a very young age. Seto made Mokuba’s physical health and overall wellbeing his business on purpose, but Mokuba accidentally stumbled into providing a level of emotional support to Seto that no child should ever be responsible for. That kind of relationship would fuck anyone up.

I feel like an interpretation of them Kaiba brothers that had a Mokuba who ended up being rather directionless and having issues with his sense of who the hell he is after Seto’s inevitable Character Development one way or the other is worth exploring. People change over time, and if a fic is set a decade or more post-canon…idk, I just feel like Mokuba’s trauma deserves some serious exploration, too.

[currentfications]

Ocean Eyes | Part 3

Pairing: Bada Lee x Producer!Reader

Synopsis: Latrice bailed on you for dinner, but set you up for a date with Bada instead.

Warning: Swearing, Flirting, Legs

AN: Sorry for the late upload and shorter than expected chapter!! Still trying to get over Monday - will try to upload over the next few days. Thank you to everyone for following along~

Previous | Next

After finally getting the keys to your recording studio, you were overjoyed and decided to take Latrice out for celebratory dinner.

Y/N: Dinner’s on me make yourself available

Latrice: 🤨

Latrice: u tryna poison me again?

Y/N: It was one time Latrice get over it

Latrice: I don’t have comprehensive health insurance here I’m not risking it

Y/N: 🙄 I’m taking you out for dinner

Latrice: Keep talking

Y/N: THE STUDIO IS READYYYY 🤩

Y/N: And I don’t wanna drink alone

Latrice: Wait that’s actually good news I’m so happy for you ahhhh 🥰🥰🥰

Latrice: But still no

Y/N: What why what did I do?

Latrice: Nothing I am busy

Y/N: 🧐

Y/N: Busy?

Y/N: …

Y/N: Waitttttt a damn minute

Y/N: I want a name cunt who tf you linked up with

Y/N: HELLO??? MA’AM?

Y/N: Whatever happened to sharing is caring huh?

Latrice: 👉🏾👈🏾

Y/N: Oh god what have you done

Y/N: Tell me it’s not who I think it is you dumb fucking bitch 😇

Latrice: 🤭

Y/N: Ms. Kabamba 😇

Team BEBE was filming the last bit of reaction segments with Mnet while they were interrupted by a few raps on their door. “Come in!” Lusher greeted her co-captain dance mate in with a hug.

Latrice slowly poked her head through the door, “Hey Bada can I borrow you for a quick second?”

Bada looked up, confused, but walked over nonetheless. “Is everything alright?”

“Calling in a personal favour,” Latrice smiled nervously, “can you go on a dinner tonight?”

“Dinner? Sure!” The choreographer hummed and nodded excitedly, “BEBE with Jam Republic?”

“You and Y/N,” Latrice snickered, “I have a date and had to bail, but she’ll be much much kinder to me if you’d go in my place instead.”

Bada raised an eyebrow and pointed at herself. Perplexed, she sounded a little dumbfounded, “Me? Why?”

Latrice rolled her eyes at the obvious question, “She has a fat celebrity crush on you since she the first episode aired, that’s why. Now please, pretty please with a cherry on top, would you go in my place tonight so she don’t-” Latrice stopped dead as you decided you’ve had enough of her ignoring your text and started calling her instead. Her eyes widen slightly in fear as she turned to the taller dancer. “Bada please I’ll owe you one, I’m so so sorry-” she swiped and picked up your call, “heyyyy Y/N, I was just telling Bada about your dinner plan tonight. She’s super keen! Here you go-”

Latrice palmed the phone to the choreographer like a hot potato, mouthing ‘thank you’ at the blonde.

Dinner with Bada? The sentence hasn’t fully registered in your brain as you begun to rip your high school mate a new one. “Ms. Kabamba,” you uttered with the coldest tone you could muster, a tone that Latrice knows all too well. A tone you only take with her when she knows she’s done something stupid, again.

“Sorry to disappoint,” a familiar voice broke you out of your rant. “Ms. Lee here. I heard we have plans?”

Damnit that cunt, I’ll deal with her later. You quickly composed yourself, “Never a disappointment, love. Any dietary restrictions?” You tried to mitigate your hoarse voice (from screaming ‘CUNNNNTTTTTT’ right before Latrice picked up the phone) and previously harsh tone by being as sweet as possible with your word choice, knowing that phone call rarely - if ever - made you sound more personable.

Love? Your husky delivery had the tall dancer flustered, trying to hide a blush taking form on her cheeks. Bada gulped, hard, and stumbled over her words, “N-no, I’m not picky. Where and when?” She tried to pass it off as cool and nonchalant, but Lusher seemed to have picked up on her change in tone.

“I’ll pick you up when you finish for the day? Latrice gave me their schedule.” Bada hummed over the phone, you can almost see her cute head bop as she does. Okay, dinner with Bada. One-on-one. I can do this, no biggie, fuck. “See you then, Love.”

Latrice gave Bada a parting hug when the call was over, the latter still bewildered by the unexpected call. “Thank you so, so much. You’re a life saver. Have fun later!” She quickly shuffled out the room, shutting the door behind her.

Lusher peaked over the tall dancer’s shoulder, Bada’s cheeks still warm from the conversation. She gasped as the blonde slowly clasped her hands onto her face, letting out a small shriek. “Oh god Bada what was that all about?” The co-captain raised an eyebrow at her leader’s demeanour.

“Lusher, did you bring an extra outfit?” Was the first thing that came out of Bada’s mouth.

Y/N: You’re off the hook

Y/N: For now

Y/N: I will grill you afterwards 😇

Latrice: What a weird way to say thank u but ok

Latrice: ure welcome

When you pulled up in your bike, you did not expect the gorgeous specimen to be walking out the building in a skirt. You gulped and paused for a (significant) moment, marvelling at her (legs). Her hair sat perfectly, framing her face. She smiled and waved at you, walking (omg her legs) over with a small prance (her legs y’all). “Hey, thanks for picking me up.”

“God you look amazing.” After pulling yourself together, you realised a slight problem. “I am so sorry,” you quickly apologised, motioning her skirt (legs), “I did not plan accordingly.”

She chuckled and shook her head, “Don’t worry about these, tights underneath. My hair however, is a different story.”

Relieved, you handed her a helmet with a smile and hopped onto the bike, signalling her to get on. Bada giggled and straddled herself behind you, wrapping her hands around your waist. Both of you were suddenly very grateful for the helmets for keeping you road safe and hiding blushes. “You good?” You did one last check. Bada hummed and gave you a soft squeeze before you both rode off.

Tag list: @bada-lee-ily @lil-elliesgf

[sonamytrash]

Trouble

Warnings: smut in later chapters, fem reader, swearing, suggestive themes. Not beta read. Reader is a vet/vet medic

Thank you for over 100 followers. Honestly, I only started writing fics for my own self-indulgence. I decided to share them with my fellow degenerates, and it seems that some of you like them, so here's the first small chapter to my new one. ❤️

‐---‐-----------------------------------------------------

Levi opens the door abruptly, making you jump. You pout at him playfully. "You scared me!" He narrows his eyes at you, "It's late," he says sternly. "What do you want?" He asks. You roll your eyes and walk into his office as he closes the door behind you both. Placing a pile of reports on his desk, you reply to his question, "The shitty reports you asked for that took me all evening." You complain. "And I know you never sleep, but shouldn't you be trying to get your three hours in?" You tease.

Levi smirks at your response. "Ah, yes. I did ask for those reports. Thank you." Taking a seat at his desk and giving a quick glance at the reports before looking back at you.

"And not right now." He places the reports aside and crosses his arms. "I have things to take care of that require my attention." His eyes then shift to you, "Speaking of attention, what else do you want?" His tone softening just a bit with a playful edge.

He respects your work. You are always efficient in what you do, which is why he often lets your tone and lack of respect towards him slide. Although you're not one of his direct subordinates, he still entertains more of your playful personality than he would tolerate from anyone else.

Truthfully, hiring a veterinary medic was one of Hanges more practical ideas. Having someone at the headquarters to provide and teach appropriate health care for the horses had saved a lot of money while costing very little to hire you. The overall survival rate of horses was much improved now that the soldiers knew better basic first aid, and the horses could return to headquarters for more appropriate treatment if they survived. Many of their losses weren't necessarily due to being directly crushed or eaten by Titans, but many surviving horses would die of injuries and infections upon the journey or arriving home. Your knowledge and skill had meant more horses were surviving out on the front lines and being able to recover when they returned. The cost of constantly replacing horses was drastically reduced. So even if he hadn't been on instructions to be on his best behaviour, what you brought to the regiment had genuinely earned his respect. Not only were you an intelligent woman, but you were downright infuriating. That sassy attitude, the playful humour you brought wherever you went and yet when necessary, you were stern, professional, and eloquent. It had made you popular amongst the regiment. And Levi wasn't immune. He really couldn't resist your charms. But God did he want to fuck that smart mouth of yours quiet sometimes.

Levi is taken from his thoughts when you reply, pouting. "You made such a big fucking deal about these reports that I've spent all evening making sure they were done, I would like to have had a hot bath and maybe read a book."

Levi rolls his eyes at your playful pout. "Well, since you are already here, you might as well stay and assist me with some paperwork," he says with a soft chuckle. He then proceeds to tidy his desk, placing the reports you brought in the correct pile and placing a smaller pile opposite him for you to work on.

"It shouldn't take too long and then you can go and have your well-deserved hot bath, princess." he adds with a smirk.

You bring your hand to your hips. "Either you're trying to torture me or just want an excuse to spend more time with me." You tease, taking a seat across from him. This kind of banter was the norm between the both of you, but he was much more receptive when it was behind closed doors.

A small smirk forms on Levi's lips, "You caught me," he replies sarcastically before he continues reading and signing paperwork.

You too glance over some of the papers and organise them into appropriate piles for him, "Busy day?" You ask, trying to spark some conversation.

"Just the usual," Levi says, his voice monotone as he signs the paperwork. "Paperwork, training, and keeping the brats in check." He pauses for a moment before looking back up at you. "Speaking of training, we'll have to arrange for another session soon." You grimace at his words. He insisted on the occasional sparring session to keep your self-defence up to scratch. "I'm not a fighter, levi. You beat the shit out of me every time, and even then, I know you're going soft on me." You groan playfully, "Literally everyone comes to watch me get beaten up." While you felt like he was trying to make your life difficult with these training sessions, it actually came from a place of care. He wanted you to be able to defend yourself.

Levi leans back in his seat, "You know I only do it to make you stronger," he says with a small grin. "And as for the spectators, what can I do? You're quite popular among the ranks." He then pauses for a moment before adding, "But I can always arrange for a more private session if that's what you prefer." His gaze lingers on you for a moment longer than necessary, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. A flirtatious exchange wasn't uncommon for the two of you, but how you fucking wished he would make good on the things he said.

You were instantly drawn to his suggestion and change in demeanour. "Oh yeah? And do you often give people private training sessions?" You say raising an eyebrow.

Levi chuckles softly, "You know I don't," he replies, his expression softening just a bit. "But for you, I can make an exception." He then shifts his gaze to the paperwork in front of him, pushing aside the distracting thoughts. "Anyway, you're distracting me," he says, beginning to sift through the papers again. But it's too late, your interest has been piqued, "Maybe that's not such a bad idea. What would we be working on during those sessions?" You ask, wanting to keep pressing the new suggestion.

Levi gives you a small, subtle smirk. "Hmm, we could work on whatever you feel you need improvement on," he says. "Maybe your form or your speed," he suggests. Almost throwing you into thinking you had misinterpreted his earlier tone. Before he follows up with a hint of mischief, "But whatever we work on, you can be sure that I'll push you to your limits."

You smirk in response, "Who knows, captain, maybe I'll push you to yours."

Levi smirks at your flirtatious comment and arches an eyebrow in amusement, "Is that so?" he replies in a teasing tone, his smirk widening. "I highly doubt that." He then leans forward, resting his elbows on the desk. "But I won't deny that I would enjoy the challenge." You mimic his movements, leaning forward in response, and meeting his gaze, "Oh I'm sure you would."

Levi's eyes linger on yours for a moment, studying your playful expression. "You're trouble," he says in a low voice before leaning back in his seat. "But I have to admit, I rather enjoy it." He then picks up a pen and begins scribbling on the papers in front of him, his mind wandering as he tries to suppress the arousal between his legs, relieved there's a desk inbetween the two of you.

"So I've been told," you reply playfully, finishing up the last of the papers he gave you to organise, giving you both a few moments of silence before you speak up again. "Do you think your private training session with a troublesome girl like me would whip me into shape?" You ask him seductively, being determined to see how far you can push him, having taken note of the tensing of his shoulders and how he occasionally bites his lip.

Levi finishes his scribbling, taking a deep breath as he places the pen he's gripping down before looking up at you. "Not a chance," he replies, his tone firm but playful. "But perhaps it would tire you out enough to be a good girl for at least a little while," he adds with a smirk of his own.

[batmanisagatewaydrug]

reading update: november 2023

hiiiii, sorry I'm late! I know we're a week past November now, but I've been busy! and struggling to pull my mental health out of an absolute crevasse! I think I've mostly made it at this point, but unfortunately my month of seasonal affective woe did leave me with a pretty paltry reading list for the month of November :/

not that I have a quota to hit, but I'm getting back into reading with a PASSION now and I'm hoping to get a few more really great novels in before the year ends!

what have I been reading?

Exquisite Corpse (published as Poppy Z. Brite, currently known as William Martin, 1996) - man, you guys know how I love a fucked up little story about some nasty freaks? this is a FUCKED UP story about the NASTIEST freaks. gay serial killer Andrew escapes a life sentence in England by faking his own death and flees to America, where he lands in New Orleans and promptly meets a man named Jay, who is - holy shit, what are the odds? ALSO a gay serial killer! they get along like a house on fire, setting their sights immediately on a beautiful young runaway drug deal name Tran who has his sights set on Jay. but Trans' ex-boyfriend, Luke, a bitter writer turned pirate DJ dying of AIDS, is also up in the mix, complicating things for everyone. the tone is unrelentingly gruesome but beautifully written and frequently funnier than should be possible. certainly not a book for everyone, with about every possible trigger warning on the table, but god. WHAT a ride. I savored every second.

Unmasking Autism: Discovering the New Faces of Neurodiversity (Devon Price, 2022) - any hype you've heard about this book is absolutely worth it. Price is really exemplifying the excellence that comes from in-group writing, the magic that happens when people with firsthand experience living a life outside The Norm infiltrates academia and get the credentials to be recognized as the experts they are. I can't speak to the experience of reading this book as an autistic person, but as someone who's often the token allistic among my friends it clarified things that I had never even thought to wonder about with straightforward, accessible style and firsthand understanding. also, hey, it's so cool to see a book just straight-up advocating for autistic people to get more autistic and worry less about appeasing the allistic people around them. Dr. Price writes great advice, and I strongly recommend checking out this book and more of his work here. reading this also made me absolutely feral to check out Price's first book, Laziness Does Not Exist, so expect notes on that soon!

Momfluenced: Inside the Maddening, Picture-Perfect World of Mommy Influencer Culture (Sara Petersen, 2023) - listen, we can be honest here: that title is too long. but the read is worth it, even if I do have some mixed feelings about Petersen's messaging. she's not a momfluencer, but she is a mom who has been and still is very invested in momfluencers, letting that fascination fuel this book's creation. I found Petersen a bit too quick to come to the defense of influencing as a profession, which could grate. yes, women influencers are often the targets of a particular hostility that certainly stems from misogyny. yes, it certainly is true that being a full-time Instagram poster on top of raising living human children requires a lot of time and effort, which I guess does make it a "real job". but there are lots of "real jobs" that I disrespect on principle, and influencers are certainly on the list. Petersen has analysis on the stark hegemony of momfluencers, particularly the insidious white supremacy that controls which mothers are seen as aspirational, and she's certainly not lacking in self-reflection about the role momfluencers have played in her own parenting decisions, but it would have been nice to see more pushback on the concept of influencers existing at all, not just creating space for more diverse moms to take up the title. having said that: the chapter in which Petersen reflects on her own mother's lifelong dissatisfaction and grapples with learning to see her mother as a person, rather than just a perfectly happy crafty homemaker, was one of the most riveting things I've ever read and attacked me right in my own maternal baggage. she's a chatty writer who sometimes pulls back the conversational curtain to say the most haunting shit you've ever read in your life, particularly if you're like me and regard motherhood as a sort of horror movie scenario.

Unfortunately Yours (Tessa Bailey, 2023) - god, more like UNFORTUNATELY THIS BOOK, am I right? Unfortunately Yours was November's romance novel, which I finally got around to reading after it was gifted to me this summer by my housemate who clearly hates me. I already bitched about it at length in this month's hater roundup over on my Patreon, but god. jesus christ. I've had a lot of fun reading romance novels that are pretty charmingly crappy, but Bailey just fucking sucks. this book has it all: incessant references to the size difference between our hulking he-man protag and his itty bitty love interest, WEIRD gender dynamics, the most half-assed alleged "enemies-to-lovers" I've ever seen (they just kind of don't get along, it's nothing), convoluted fake marriage, "witty" "banter" that really reads like Bailey has never heard two clever or funny people talk to each other before and has to guess, and some viscerally upsetting sex scenes including one that takes place IN THE MIDDLE OF A FLASH FLOOD. also, the male protag is a war criminal. nobody ever shuts up about how he's an ex-Navy SEAL, but they never seem to want to talk about what SEALs actually do. might be kind of a boner killer.

what am I reading now?

The Bandit Queens (Parini Shroff, 2023) - I started this novel a couple days ago and I'm absolutely devouring it; I've got about 100 pages left and cannot wait to see how the story resolves. it's tremendous fun but also hits on emotional depths that I didn't expect going into a black comedy about rural Indian women killing their husbands! I'm very excited to finish it up and talk about it in my next recap; I think it's one of my favorite novels of the year for sure.

Out There Screaming: An Anthology of New Black Horror (edited by Jordan Peele, 2023) - I meant to read this for October but oops, there were too many holds at the library! regardless, the stories have been nothing but bangers so far.

Small Game (Blair Braverman, 2022) - I haven't started this novel yet, but it's been on my list for a while and after listening to several of Braverman's guest episodes on You're Wrong About in a row, I had to check it out. her episode on the Flight 571 crash in the Andes almost had me in tears; cannot recommend it enough.

[dxmoness]

HEY HEY-

( This is like an idea inspired from the rp chats I have with oc and ai Rezef- You already know who am I)

An engaged enemies to lovers with Rezef Hill? Where name comes from a noble household that has a great influence in the empire- That at first they were like on each other's throats but then they began warming up and become allies as they share the same goal of just wanting to overthrow and humiliate the heinreich duchy? But then meanwhile they continue with their plan to make Rezef the emperor with name's help, the two of them just happen to start falling in love but don't know how to bring that up due to the fear of rejection?

You can make it either a drabble or hc, Idm! And pls take your time <33

Your health matters 🫶

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐃𝐈 | 𝐑. 𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐋

[ AUTHOR NOTE ] Hope this doesn't flop 🥹

[ WARNINGS ] murder, hateful attitude + thoughts.

[ READER PRONOUNS ] she/her

[ WRITING STYLE ] desideria · long fic!

I hate you. That was all Name could think as she watched herself get married to him. The crowned prince stood in front of her, his eyes filled with absolute hatred.

"I do." Those words. Hollow, empty words. None of them meant it. When he leaned closer to kiss reluctantly, their lips interlocked in a barely meaning anything way of kissing.

The post wedding ball was a blur as the two were escorted for their first night together. The moment the door was closed, Rezef lashed out. Pissed off. She ducked his hit as he seemed aggravated.

"Looks like someone's mad." Name mocked as Rezef looked at her with pure hatred in his eyes. He steps closer before he grabs a fistful of her hair. "Shut up." He practically shouts as he pulled her hair. Tears swelled as she was completely in pain but her pride prevented her from those near waterworks.

Rezef smiles sadistically as he lets go of her hair before he sat down on the bed. His sapphire eyes ablaze with anger. "Now. Shall we discuss what we'll do in this relationship?" His tone meant no talking back as she could only so much as bob her head in assent despite wanting to lash out so much words towards him.

He grins with delight as he nods. "Good." He chuckles darkly. "As we both know we hate each other, I don't love you and you don't love me." She nods at this again. It was true. "Since this is the case we will only act like a couple when our parents are near. When they aren't, we'll act like complete strangers. Understood?"

She nods in affirmation. "Understood." Rezef smirked. "Very well, looks like we've come to an agreement now. Be a good doll and sleep on the floor tonight." Fuck you. She said mentally as she watched him lay down and get comfortable.

The next day she awoke from a very exhausting night. She barely got any sleep, she sighed as she rubbed her back.

This was gonna be a long life now that she knew what she was dealing with.

The good thing was that they rarely came close. Separate rooms, different schedules. Everything fit right where they should. No problem problems for everyday activities as they had different duties and they were rarely called for tea with emperor.

It was perfect. Until they both found the interest of taking down the Heinrich duchy a similar goal. This was when they decided to join forces. And only for this moment, once it was over they would go back to the old schedule.

That was what they originally thought. Because when they managed to figure out how to fit each other's talents and strengths to the puzzle. This started the relationship they thought they'd never make. The feelings they thought would never be brewed.

Rezef was quick to notice on his feelings when Name was around. He was more relaxed than before. It was if she lifted burdens of the things he couldn't do as she just fit right in. Watching her work her magic, theorizing and strategizing needed and unneeded attacks where enough to make him see that he needed her for the Empire's sake. Even for his own.

As for Name, Name found his actions ever so startling when all the bickering stopped. She found favour in his perfectionist views when it came to the number of agents to place in the mission or the people they should trust.

When it was over, could they possibly do what they promised to each other then? Just the small thought of returning to their once fruitless marriage tore each apart.

So they wouldn't. But they couldn't tell each other their reasons. In fear of being still hated by the other.

"Rezef?" Name looks up to see her husband by the door of her room. It was an odd sight. Much more unusual for the guards by the door, she thinks as she gets up.

Rezef watches her come closer. He does not deny that she was beautiful. He was lost in the thought of admiring her that he hadn't realized what Name asked. "What?" He blinks finally returning to reality.

"Are you okay?" She repeated the question. "Yes." "Then what are you-" Rezef couldn't hold himself any longer, his lips pressed on hers engulfing her into sharing a heated and passionate kiss. One that told both of them what they needed to know.

They were in love and there was no denying that now.

tagging, @sxnful-rage

[zazter-den]

Just got back home, groceries are put away, dinner is in the oven- I think it's time for a tumblr/writing break ^^ I'm 2.5k into this tough love care fic with fwb!Katsuki and dragon!Reader, and I'm wondering if anyone would be interested in reading it? I know that threesomes tend to be popular on Tumblr, but there are less popular (or maybe more accurately less written about) aspects of polyamory- like dealing with a breakup and leaning on your partner through mental health dips.

Preview Pt.1

Katsuki's eyes adjusted further to the dimness, his line of sight landed on a pile of blankets heaped in the corner of your bed, pushed up against the wall. It looked like a makeshift nest, constructed from comforters, quilts, and pillows. “I'm just tired...” Your cranky voice faintly coming from the pile “lemme sleep.” Katsuki squinted and could just make out the tip of the pearly scaled tail poking out from under the blankets- a small sign of life in the fortress you had built around yourself. He crossed the room in a few strides, stopping near the edge of the bed, his expression softening slightly even though he kept his tone firm. “Sleep's fine, but not three fuckin' days straight without proper food or talkin' to anyone” he retorted, just as concerned as he was exasperated. He wasn't about to let you continue to shut your self away, not on his watch. He agreed to give you 3 days of space, and time had run out. Katsuki thrust his hands under the pile of blankets, searching until he found the thick base of your tail. The iron grip made you yelp in indignation as he slowly dragged you out from the cocoon of comforters. He was gentle but his hold was like stone, not giving you any room to squirm back into your hiding spot. The moment you were out, Katsuki hoisted you up by the base, lifting you until face-to-face. Your eyes met his, giving him the most withering glare you could with how exhausted as you felt. “I'm gonna fucking bite you” you threatened, the fatigue diluting the threat to something almost sad. Katsuki's response was a smug grin, not ready to back down anytime soon. “Try it, and we'll see who bites harder” he said, holding you steady in the air, not willing to let you escape back to isolation without hearing him out.

Preview Pt. 2

Katsuki automatically hit light switch as he carried you intothe bathroom, the fluorescent bulbs flickering to life and flooding the room with harsh light. The sudden brightness sent you recoiling immediately, hissing in pain as you buried your face into the crook of his neck. Your tail wrapped tight around his waist on reflex. Fuck, he'd forgotten about your light sensitivity. With a muttered curse, Katsuki quickly flicked the lights back off. The room was plunged back into relative darkness, the only light source now being the faint glow filtering in from the hallway. Digging into the basket of bath supplies, his fingers found the small bath lights that resembled crystal flowers. A soft, soothing light emanated from them, casting gentle lit facets across the bathroom walls. “There, better?” he asked, his voice softer than usual, not wanting to exacerbate your headache any further. With a small nod into his neck you finally relaxed slightly, and he set you down on the bathroom counter. Your tail unwound from his waist, dropping down to hang over the edge of the counter, flicking idly in the dim light. As Katsuki turned to turn the water on, you spoke up again, your voice softer this time. “You don't have to do this, Kats” you murmured, but he was quick to cut you off. “Stop saying that” he ground out, not even bothering to look at you as he turned the tap, adjusting the water until it was as hot as you preferred. He moved back over to you, reaching for the edge of the oversized t-shirt you'd been using as pajamas. He pulled it over your head, tossing it aside without a second thought. The scent that hit him was strong, and he grinned with an exaggerated grimace. “Jesus, you smell like Denki's fried onions” he snarked, nose scrunching up. To his surprise, you actually laughed, a weak but genuine sound. “Don't be an ass” you chuckled, a hint of your usual fire returning to your voice, “You come home smelling like burnt plastic half the time”. Despite the situation, Katsuki couldn't help but feel a small sense of smug satisfaction at seeing you start to sound like yourself again. With a gentle push, you slipped into the bath, body sinking into the hot water until it reached your chin. You let out a sigh of relief, muscles visibly relaxing as the warmth seeped into your bones.

If you have further interest in reading Disabled!Reader content please check out Bakubunny's work! Because she's the reason I've felt braver about publishing Disabled!Reader fics

[blackmageeljin]

Hey! Just wanted to reach out and let any followers mostly here for my work on Repeat:|| know that I AM STILL WORKING ON IT! I REALLY AM!

I have about 20-25k words currently unpublished and am like... 1/2 to 2/3 to the end. I'm sure with Missing Link dropping soon KH will be driving the serotonin bus again and the hyperfocus will Get It Done.

Previously, it was easy to denote a section as 'done' when they moved on from a world, and so I could easily publish those sections. But as I entered the finale, keeping all the timey whimey stuff sorted and dealing with significantly more moving parts and suddenly a much larger cast of characters, I resolved to not begin posting again until the whole thing was done so I would have the luxury of shifting things around as needed.

It has taken a lot of time and recovery to just be able to feel comfortable using Tumblr again, or posting any kind of writing. I have a few Hazbin fics up because that fandom is generally less changed and it is easy to hide behind the Asexual Vore Demon. Also, I am not playing 5 dimensional time travel chess writing for it haha, so it is something that is just a lot easier to produce if I am not having a good health day. But honestly, even that took a lot of courage and I waited a long time before posting, as my agoraphobia became significantly more severe for a while. I spent a lot of time catching up in JJBA in the past few years too, but haven't posted any of the writing I've done for it for fear of the witch hunting doxxing campaigns that go on over ships and things over there.

Admittedly that has taken longer than anticipated for a lot of reasons ranging from ye olde social anxiety and fandom drama to just real world stuff. A tree fell on my house! On a happier note, I now have two goats and they are named Xehanort and Eraqus.

Admittedly, besides logistics, I am waiting until it is done to post because I don't want to deal with any drama/fallout for how I handle things like Xehanort's Actual Motivations™, how characters who have previously not had screen time get characterized, my understand of certain metaphysics, people being upset things Are Wrong when in fact I am referencing something that is explicitly canon from KHUX and such that they haven't played, a lack of understand of the inherent themes of moral philosophy and the duality of history, and, you know, people generally being bitchy. The finale is a turning point in a few ways, in that both the tone shifts and that it's when all the 'hot takes' come fully to light, so I am nervous. For people who have been nothing but supportive I will finish this. For you and for myself and for Sora and Xeha. But fuck if fandom spaces aren't as safe as they used to be, and I'm tired.

As a teaser some general things to look forward to are: Riku finding out about The Boyfriend, light squad screen time, yelling at Yensid, Ansem SoD but he has awkward estranged dad energy, ominous Vanitas implications, things that come out of Lea's mouth, Kairi being relevant.

And if you read this far, here's a lil preview snippet for you:

"After I do that, you gotta hand over your guardian.” Sora clarified. When Ansem nodded he reached his own hand forward and shook.

“Deal.”

Sora half expected some kind of sinister dark magic to flare up when they shook hands… but nothing happened. It was almost anticlimactic, just a normal handshake. That was… good? But it still left Sora waiting for the other shoe to drop again.

Sora turned around to face the other two who had come with him. “Alright then. I… guess I have some work to do.”

Xehanort began to answer, only to be cut off.

“Oh, and Sora? One more thing.”

Sora half turned back to the heartless, getting ready to give him an ear full for trying to pull something, but-

“Be sure to take careful care of my youngest self. By Vanitas’ logic, he is as my precious baby brother. It would be remiss of me not to do my familial duty and ensure the well being of his heart.”

To which Sora, unsurprisingly, turned bright red and began floundering helplessly.

“You!” Xehanort was not faring much better.

And Vanitas had gone from poorly hidden laughter to full blown cackling. Then he stepped forward and high fived the Heartless.

And that was… huh.

Something about that, about seeing Ansem of all people acting like a regular guy… high fiving his friend and laughing over something stupid and- and normal like teasing someone over their boyfriend and not something super evil or sadistic. He was a Heartless- and in a way, Vanitas sort of was too, right? But right now they were just acting like regular everyday people…

Sora adopted an overly dramatic serious expression and gave Ansem a salute. “I’ll have him back by 10, sir!”

“Sora!” Xehanort hissed full of betrayal. Sora flashed him an apologetic grin. Ansem’s grin was significantly less apologetic, if not amused.

“Good man.”

[latenightsimping]

THE EDGE

“...There is no honest way to explain it because the only people who really know where it is are the ones who’ve gone over.” - Hunter S. Thompson, Hell’s Angels

Summary: A part of the deal to freedom included a stay at Pennhurst. It’ll take everything to keep the hope that one day the locked doors will open, the windows will no longer have bars that block the view, and that one day, the name Eddie Munson will be synonymous with the word ‘innocent’. The hope, he never realised, would also come to be synonymous with your name.

Chapter: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Pairing: Eddie Munson x reader

Word count: 3.9k

Warnings: angst, heavy themes of inpatient treatment/hospitalisation, heavy themes of mental health, institutional deprivation of liberties, body injuries, mentions of suicidal ideation, themes of institutional abuse, can be a dark read (continue with that in mind, look after yourselves), canon divergence, Eddie survives the demobat attack, post-S4 timeline, slow burn romance, eventual smut, 18+, eventual fluff, there will be a happy ending

AN: Chapter three is finally here! Many thanks to my lovely boyfriend @mantorokk-writes for test reading and making the header, I'm forever in love with you <3 This series is gonna be a slow work in progress, but thank you for reading so far! Really excited to see where it's gonna go, and how we're gonna get these two out of this pickle. Enjoy!

Taglist: @edsforehead, @idkidknemore, @harrys-tittie, @gaysludge, @smileygoth

A congealed lump of what was apparently mac and cheese, boiled to death vegetables and bitter orange juice. Eddie had become used to shit food long ago, thanks to a lifetime of only buying the cheapest non-brand groceries to try and save costs. But this… This was something else. Fuck, he was surprised it even passed the mark for being fit for human consumption. It reminded him of the stories his old man used to tell about prison food, about how the trick was to eat it without thinking too much, barely savouring the taste before you swallowed. The similarity getting stuck in his throat.

But at least he wasn’t eating his meals in silence anymore. With you sitting opposite him, filling any dead air with talking about the hospital gossip, though he’d given up on trying to follow along after the first apparent affair taking place. But the content didn’t matter. For the first time in so long, maybe even longer than he realised, you had offered him a seat to get out of trouble with no motive behind the action. Had given him his own pack of cigarettes after swindling one from an orderly just before lunch started, the one that seemed to stare at your chest more than your eyes, putting yourself at risk for no gain of your own. It was exceedingly rare to find people that would do something out of the goodness of their hearts, and the question was rattling around his head with such a velocity that it tumbled from his lips before he even realised. 

“Why are you doing this?” 

Even he internally winced at the lack of warmth in his tone, making it sound more like an accusation than a question. But if it offended you, you didn’t act as if it bothered you. Instead, the corners of your lips twitched upwards, eyes drifting from your tray to his own as you tilted your head. 

“What’dya mean?”

Giving himself a few needed seconds to reframe the words in his head with taking a sip of his drink, he swirled the contents of the paper cup, deciding to stare down into it rather than look up. “I mean, why are you helping me? You don’t know me.” 

From the very quick glance upwards he chanced, there seemed to be something there that was bittersweet. Eyes slightly widened, mouth downturned, yet an ever so slight huff of a laugh as you balled up a serviette in your hands. “Trust me, I know how it feels to be the new guy on the wing. The way the others look at you like you’re a fuckin’ chew toy?” 

He’d noticed the way the other patients stared, when the steel door behind him slammed shut. Some didn’t even look over, too caught up in their own internal world. But there’s a certain feeling that can overcome a person when they’re accustomed to having to be on high alert at all times. A certain flash of the eyes that makes your stomach churn, blood pooling to your feet and your mind telling you to run. You studied his face for a moment, a sympathetic smile briefly twitching at your lips. 

“I had someone look out for me too, when I first got here,” you explained, the paper in your hand now being twisted and toyed with as you spoke. “She uh… Her name was Patty. She was this take no shit kinda woman. Taught me the best way to curb the hunger was smoking cigarettes, which orderlies would give pretty girls special treatment, which patients to never go near. That sorta useful shit.” 

Though you smiled, it didn’t reach your downcast eyes. “She got sick last year. Didn’t say much about it, but it took a toll on her. It finally got her a couple of months back. And you know what the worst thing was about it?” 

Plenty of what you were saying was ‘the worst thing’. Being caught on the wrong side of a power dynamic, having to go hungry because nobody cared, patients having to be caregivers because God forbid those that actually got paid to do it actually did their fucking jobs for once. All of those answers dying on his tongue, replaced with a slow shake of his head.

“Nobody came to see her in the end,” you muttered, brows furrowing as your voice cracked. “She told me she had a son, told me the doctors called him and told him, but he never came. I get it, I mean, not many of us have the luxury of seeing people from the outside… But she was on her fucking deathbed, y’know?” 

When your eyes finally met his, glossy with unshed tears that you seemed so determined to never let overspill, there was a look to you that made all the pieces click together. Made the parts of him that he’d kept buried away for self preservation start to rise back to the surface. Taking a firm grasp of his heart and squeezing for good measure. 

The look of pure fear. 

The fear that one day, both of you would end up like Patty. Untethered to the world outside, cast adrift with the other lost souls. Taking the last few rattled breaths with nobody around to hear them, looking up to the sky and the view still blocked with bars. Nobody with spare change for the ferryman, forever stuck. 

“I’m sorry.” It was all he could think to say, no other words seeming quite right. The tone as hollow as he felt, as shaky as the tremors in his hands that never quite seemed to go away. All he could think to say, but the truth. He was sorry you were here, if your proclaimed innocence was to be believed. He was sorry for himself too, deep down. 

“It’s whatever,” you replied, clearing your throat as you tried and failed to staple the look of nonchalance back on your face with a half decent result. “Anyway, don’t worry about your first therapy session, alright? I got it covered.” 

He shot you a small look of incredulity, head tilted to the side as he followed your lead in piling used napkins and cutlery onto his meal tray. “What’dya mean?” 

The smile you gave him next was finally a genuine one, a glimmer in your eye that could only mean mischief. 

“You’ll see.” 

~

You could see the stress levels that you tried so desperately to lower over lunch to begin raising as you and Eddie filed into the day room for group therapy. How his jaw clenched so hard you were surprised he didn’t break enamel, a shortening fuse near a naked flame as he took his seat next to you. Leg bouncing with beats akin to a hummingbird’s heart, chewing at the skin around his ruined nails with eyesight dancing around the room to end up on the tile right in front of him. You couldn’t blame him; he was walking into the unknown, with no idea where the hell he would end up. You remembered the feeling well. 

Others clad in the same off white uniform as you took their respective seats around you, the energy in the room a palpable, frantic buzz. Nerves, apathy, distaste and mocking. You could feel it all, see it in the faces around you that you’d come to know in the years that you’d been imprisoned. Small naked flames, that could be as harmless as a match or as intense as thermite. The day could go either way. And it would depend on the questions posed to them.

Dr. Madden made his way through the doors, adjusting the thick horned rimmed glasses that permanently perched on his beak-like nose as he took his seat. You’d never liked him; he was nosy, even for a psychiatrist, always putting two and two together to end up with an equation that made no fucking sense. Nothing could ever be simple, in his eyes. Someone’s violent outburst had some convoluted reasoning to do with Daddy issues and not being hugged enough as a child, rather than someone just needing a fucking cigarette and not being given one. It took everything within you not to roll your eyes into the back of your skull as he cleared his throat to begin. 

“Good afternoon everyone,” he began, eyes settling over each patient for a brief second before focusing on Eddie. “We’re welcoming a new person into the wing today. Have you had any sort of therapy like this before, Mr. Munson?”

Eddie’s reply was a brief shake of his head, glance not leaving the cracks of the floor as he fiddled with the split ends of his hair. Madden’s bushy eyebrow raised a fraction as he sat himself slightly forward. “Well, we start with a brief check in. How we’re feeling, what we’d like to talk about in today’s session. Perhaps you could start us off? You seem nervous today.” 

You couldn’t hold back a scoff, the psychiatrist’s beady eyes narrowing on you as you fished through your pockets for your pack of cigarettes. The look on his face evident that he wasn’t amused at your perceived insolence to his ‘therapeutic process’. He could shove that process where the sun didn’t shine, as far as you were concerned. 

“He’s a newbie, of course he’s gonna be nervous,” you shrugged, waving over an orderly with a lighter, who seemed to be watching you with ever so slight trepidation as he ignited the flame that you used to puff life into your cigarette. Huffing out an exhale of smoke that was aimed in his direction. “Bit of a redundant question, isn’t it?” 

Madden was a tough nut to crack, but you’d managed to get the veins in his neck bulging a couple of times. You just needed to know which buttons to press, and it seemed you hit one with a jab to his reasoning. “I don’t find it redundant at all,” he answered with a smile slightly too smug for your liking. “But if you think that an example of a check in could help, maybe you could go first instead?” 

You took a sharp inhale as you gave a grimace of indifference, face scrunched up as you jerked your head towards an older lady that seemed on the edge of her seat to talk. “Why don’t you get Miriam to do it? From what I remember, she was just starting to open up about her fucker of an ex husband.”

Was using another patient’s anger, something you knew got them started into an hour long tangent until they were red in the face unethical? Maybe. But it was every man for himself out here, and you didn’t have anything akin to backup in the process. As expected, the woman launched into a tirade, screechings which contained the words “useless bastard” and “should have divorced him before he did it to me!” melding into the background as you shot a smug smirk in Madden’s direction. To his credit, he was hiding his distaste well, his only giveaway the slight flush creeping above his collar.

For most of the session, you managed to evade the heat from coming towards you and Eddie. A few more prods to Miriam, staying silent when the psychiatrist asked if anyone else had anything to add. A question to old man Hardy about the house he got kicked out from before being transferred, each person being used like a shield to hide from the questions you knew Madden had for you. You knew you were fucked from the moment he put his hand up to cut off Duane about his teenage trauma prematurely, eyes fixed on you as he sat back in his chair. 

“Does Duane’s story resonate with you?” he asked with a heightened pitch of voice, head slightly tilted as his lips twitched upwards. It caused your back to straighten, knowing full well where he was going with this. Somewhere you swore never to go back to, ever since the nightmares ever so slightly decreased and the flashing images weren’t permanently burned into the back of your eyelids. 

“No.” 

The words reverberated around clenched teeth, knuckles turned white as you gripped the cracked pleather of the cushion you sat on. Out of your peripheral vision, you saw Eddie staring at you with a slight questioning to his glance, and it made your gut twist even more. You hated how suddenly the tentative power dynamic had switched. How your already lacking control was going to spiral even further, if Madden willed it. 

“I think it might, though,” the good doctor continued, the slight smirk being poorly hidden as his head tilted to the side. “You had a lot happen when you were eighteen, didn’t you? When you made the choice to-”

“I’m not going to talk about it,” you snapped back, folding your arms as a poorly constructed buffer between you and the man opposite. Your eyes glanced at the clock on the wall, a slight ease of tension as you realised the time. “Not with only five minutes left of the session.” 

“But you’re going to have to talk about it sooner or later,” he countered, daring to look slightly sympathetic as he regarded you. “You’ve been here two years, and you’ve never talked about that night. It doesn’t show much progress, now does it?” 

You wanted to stand up, pick up your chair, and crash it over the top of his head. How the fuck would he know what ‘progress’ you’d been making? How much work you’d had to put into yourself, rationalising and justifying everything about the night that changed the path of your life, so much that you probably could never step foot on the original trail if you tried. How you still tortured yourself with what you could have done differently, the actions that you did take haunting you like spectres? Madden knew nothing of how often you’d dragged yourself off the precipice time and time again, nothing but bloody fingernails and a quickly ebbing will to live, as you weighed up the decisions of falling asleep to never wake up again against staying alive to do everything in your power to clear the stain on your name.

To Madden’s credit, he didn’t push further. Letting the silence hang in the air, perhaps a non-verbal push that might get you talking. It might have worked, once upon a time. When you had no secrets to hide, too worried about what others thought, wanting to please people so much that it deprived you of happiness. But that was before you were branded a psycho, tossed into this place with the key thrown away. Now, you couldn’t give a shit about what others thought. 

Except, there was a way your stomach dropped when you looked over to see the way Eddie looked at you. Not with disgust or horror, which you were used to by now. There was slight concern in his eyes, mixed with empathy, the combination making you want to squirm in your seat. You didn’t even know each other, yet his humanity seemed to still be intact for now, seeing another person clearly struggling and not being able to do anything about it. 

You decided to stare at the clock on the wall for the rest of the session, filtering out all other noises and focusing on watching the minute hand strike closer and closer until time was up. 

As you put away chairs, you expected Eddie to ask you about it. Maybe try to pry, or get answers for questions that could be in his own mind. But he didn’t. He stayed silent as you both wandered back to the table you met at, sitting down with him wordlessly reaching for the deck of cards in the middle and starting to shuffle. And silent you stayed. Going through the motions of a routine you knew too well; free time, ‘music’ therapy - as if listening to the same vinyl of Bach twice a week for two years would do anything other than make you want to smash your head against the chipped white walls. Dinner consisting of a brick of so-called ‘meatloaf’ that you knew well enough to avoid even attempting to eat, settling for tasteless vegetables and vaguely lime flavoured Jell-o instead. 

Even silent when the orderly Nguyen told you to haul ass to the laundry room for work placement, and to take your new ‘friend’ with you. You were brought out of the routine of folding sheets when you heard Eddie clear his throat, looking up to see him slightly rattled as he sorted various clothing into separate piles. 

“Hey uh… You don’t have to say anything if you don’t wanna, but… Thanks. For today.” You saw the corners of his lips twitch upwards, a ghost of a smile as his eyeline landed on the messy stack of undershirts. “Didn’t have to stick your neck out of me, but you did. Appreciate it.”

You mustered the leftover social energy you had to lift your shoulders into a slight shrug, rubbing the back of your head whilst the other hand took your weight as you leaned slightly on the table. “It’s nothing. Sorry for not being so talkative I just… Still don’t wanna talk about why I’m here, y’know?” 

A curt nod was his reply at first, lips a narrow line and eyes darting around as if he was thinking hard about something. Finally glancing towards the door, then around the room, as if to make double sure that what he was about to say wouldn’t be overheard. He looked panicked; either a deer in the headlights or a lion ready to defend itself, you weren’t sure. 

“They said I killed people.” 

It was so quiet you barely picked up on it, and you had to admit, it took you aback. There was an initial flight or flight reaction that doused your autonomic system, as if his words set off a red light in your head and you had to start looking for an improvised weapon. However, that was pure instinct, only for a second before logic took over. For someone who was apparently a killer, he certainly did look hollow about it all. Besides. Those in glass houses…

“Did you do it?” you mumbled back, eyes leaving his to take the pressure of both of you, hands busying themselves with folding the now grey sheet in front of you, toying with the frayed corner to try and conceal it in the fold somehow. 

“No.”

You found yourself at a precipice. He had stuck his neck out to tell you his charge, not knowing if you’d stick around or bolt and leave him on his own again. It was a sign of trust; an olive branch, that you could either accept or leave hanging between you. You had only known Eddie a day. Less than that, maybe seven hours, tops. But so far, he seemed to have his wits about him. He didn’t strike you as the judgemental type. He didn’t pry, and he tried to distract you when you were at your lowest, instead of offering useless advice or forcing you to open up. When you looked up at him, there was no hint of deceit that you could tell. He was staring at you with those intense eyes of his, an expression reading both ‘I’m telling the truth’ and ‘dear God, I hope you fucking believe me’. 

For so long, you had wanted reinforcements in this place so badly. To not fight alone, to have backup. In the outside world, no way would you trust someone this fast. But this was Pennhearst. A place with different rule sets. You needed to take the help wherever it came from, and hope it didn’t blow back in your face later. 

You needed to give him something in return. 

You didn’t falter with eye contact as you said the words you thought you’d never say. The words that made your stomach churn, made you want to flinch as you said them. “They said I killed people, too.” 

You saw the look on his face to be one of bewilderment, eyes scanning you up and down as if he’d never seen you before. You wondered if that’s what you’d looked like not five seconds ago, mirroring each other as you confessed your sins. “Did you do it?” 

“No.”

The crease between his eyebrows seemed to smooth, after what felt like hours of staring at each other, the only other sounds the rhythmic knocking of the decrepit industrial dryers. It was you who finally broke the silence, busying yourself again with grabbing the pile of undershirts near you by the bottom and pulling it towards you to begin folding. “I don’t expect you to believe me. And if you don’t want me to know about what happened, I’m not gonna push it.” You shook your head as you frowned at the fabric in your hands.

“Why do you believe me? When I say I didn’t do it?” 

You glanced back up at him to find a worried expression on his face, staring at you like he couldn’t quite believe you. As if it was too good to be true, to finally be believed. You wracked your brain for an answer, only to shrug and say the first thing on your mind. “Because guilty people don’t look so frightened of their consequences. I suppose on a subconscious level, they know they deserve the hell they created for themselves.”

You heard a sound which you figured to be a sharp exhale of air through his nose, most likely an attempt at a wry laugh. “You don’t look frightened.”

Your lips turned downward as you frowned again. “You get good at hiding it after a while, I guess.”

You heard your name being called, so softly that your heart nearly shattered. Not your last name being barked out with disdain, or in a patronising tone like a shrink would. It was said like somebody actually gave a shit. You looked up to be met with a look that was one of genuine concern, his eyebrows furrowed and lips slightly parted as if he was wondering what to say. 

It was getting too intense for your liking. 

Shaking your head as you cleared your throat, you flashed a tight smile as your folding became hurried. “Finish that pile quick, yeah? Orderlies hit the roof when you don’t finish your chores on time.” 

To his credit, Eddie didn’t push it. The rest of the time being filled with small talk and comfortable silences, until your names were called to be taken back to your room for the night. The motions of getting ready to bed had become mechanical a long time ago, on autopilot as you brushed your teeth and changed clothes. Hearing the call for lights out, and getting plunged into darkness against your will. You knew that first checks were in an hour. 

You had sixty minutes to cry to yourself about finally being seen, about not being treated like a criminal that deserved the way you were being treated. Hugging the pillow to your face and willing yourself not to be making a sound, clutching the cheap cotton between your fingers as if your life depended on it. Sixty minutes until you needed to shove the emotions back down, and face tomorrow, same as you always did. 

Same as you always did, but at least you had someone on your side. 

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again 9/5/2023

moving closer to your best friend means hanging out in big groups a lot of the time. while this is theoretically good for mental health or whatever, in practice i overextended myself this weekend and am going to wake up tomorrow with the mental equivalent of a sore lower back

listening (2x bonus)

very fond of måneskin's new single HONEY (ARE U COMING?). sonically different from their other stuff, lyrics and tone-wise another incredible sad banger! spotify

my sister viewed the film Party Girl (1995, dir. von Scherler Mayer) last week at a party in philly and sent me this song featured in the film with no further explanation. Double Cross by First Choice (a Larry Levan remix) has what i want to call bollywood strings, a flute, and the funkiest bassline backing up some really classic disco vocals. First Choice were a group out of philly, which no one at the party knew at the time, and this blog calls this specific remix "dancefloor soul" which is probably as good a descriptor as any. i have had it on loop for a solid week. lyrics include

Love stealing, double dealing, two-timing lowdown son of a gun

which is just so much fucking fun to sing in the car. spotify

-

reading (2x bonus here also)

i read the mandalorian comics in between volumes of berserk, which feels a bit like saying i took a break from watching the evil dead franchise to watch some cocomelon.

the mandalorian comics are a remarkably uninspired nearly shot by shot breakdown of the episodes. not in the way most film/tv comics are, where they’re very clearly traced screencaps, but screenshots redrawn. this would be interesting if the artist was not contractually obliged to the very flat marvel comics style. i am constantly reminded of how the mandalorian is simply…not very good. it’s entertaining as a spectacle of television to watch, but there are not a lot of fun ideas in there. something that made me fucking scream with laughter are these panels of baby yoda

pápá, your son is So high

back to the other series with a dark haired, roaming, grouchy, reserved man on a mission. unfortunately i don't have a lot of berserk thoughts just yet, i am waiting on vol 4 to come off my library holds and my brain is still digesting it. anyway i think not wanting random "friendly" embraces from strangers is a very reasonable thing for guts to dislike and i truly do not understand why ppl in-universe get so fucking offended. unfortunately reading these late at night did lead to an unpleasant sleep experience.

bitches love a fucked up interior space that can't ever actually exist (it's me i'm bitches)

not to be all therapeutic but im trying to be Curious About and Gently Interrogate why i get a real bee in my bonnet once a year to read some horror comics/manga when i am big squeamish baby about film depictions of those things. i think mostly bc comics gore is so much more stylized than some of the very effective practical and cgi effects? and crucially nothing is actually like writhing around on screen it’s a still image? does anyone else’s brain have a much easier time handling still images over moving images of gore? much to consider

as with many other things, me reading berserk is indirectly @dying-suffering-french-stalkers ' fault

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watching

i have viewed the first four episodes of Fire Force, the urban fantasy mercenary firefighter anime and do not think i will be continuing. while i have a great many questions about the worldbuilding (gravitational anomalies?? genetic predisposition to spontaneous human combustion?? solar god nuns??) it has a dead mom plot, which i am allergic to. this is also a 7.5-8 on the Ass part of the Weeb Ass Shit scale, and has a lot more casual assault than i try to encounter in anime. it's by the soul eater guy, remember the level of Stuff going on in soul eater? a little bit more ramped up groping and stuff that makes me say out loud "wow i don't like this" than soul eater.

the animation re: aforementioned fire is really top notch tho. visually complex and interesting television program.

how i found this: me and my best friend and my best friend's husband morosely poking around the anime section on hulu, looking for something to fill the spy x family void. this ain't it tho

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playing

i have no fun genshin tidbits to share bc i am grinding talent mats while catching up with the podcast episodes of the road to partizan and i don’t have much to say about the not-fun parts of gachas. why am i playing something if it’s not inherently fun? great fucking question

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making (3rd 2x bonus)

very uninspired (derivative, even) abbreviated sofrito thing over rice. with heavy application of Worcestershire sauce it was fine. no pics

also i finally bought a couch bc salvation army had 50% off everything for Labor Day. this is a question of ethics vs money i have decided for myself, and encourage you, the reader, to go off and quietly make your own philosophical choices without explaining them to me in detail.

it will be arriving on friday bc that is when the strapping young men who own trucks are available. my front door is a very non standard size and i have a very awkward front stair, so i needed something that could fit under the overhang while standing on its end. this one was the best size and (fortunately) the cheapest at $150. it is some sort of extremely flammable early polyester and 100% has a grandma’s soul trapped within its fibers. i will probably buy a cover at some later date to deter miss macaron but in the meantime we will do the strips of brown painters tape, which does successfully deter her. this really really does not want to be steamed so i will also be procuring some chemicals.

here are some other couches i could have bought but didn’t.

[kivaember]

slaps down some Young Jupiter Walt/Mich bc i feel terrible today and am tired. Michigan's getting Walter some pads.

-

"Okay, I'm in the aisle."

"I really don't get why you need me to walk you through this," Walter's grumpy voice grouched over the phone. "Just grab whatever."

Michigan scoffed. Sure, Walter said that, but no doubt he would bitch and moan if Michigan grabbed 'the wrong one' and then send him out again anyways. He wasn't having this be another Ibuprofen incident.

"Walter, you're the pickiest motherfucker on Ganymede," he drawled. "Besides, I've never bought this shit before. I dunno which is good."

As he spoke, he picked up a bright pink pack in soft packaging. On the front it said it had 'wings' as well as a bunch of other commercial nonsense which were no doubt a pack of lies. The only useful thing on it was the water droplet measurement in the corner. This one was for 'light flow'.

"Heavy, wings, preferably night time ones," Walter grunted. His tone was more curt than usual. "Oh, don't get the cheapest ones. They chafe."

"So much for 'grab whatever'," Michigan muttered. He put the packaging back and scanned over the rest. The entire aisle was full of this stuff, brightly coloured and in different packaging and brands. He was feeling overwhelmed and this wasn't even for him!

"Uh... wait, is it tampons or pads you-"

"Pads. You bring back a tampon and I'm stuffing it up your ass."

See. This would've been the Ibuprofen Incident all over again if Michigan hadn't called.

"Y'know, I thought you would've stopped having periods by now," Michigan chatted idly as he picked through the vast amount of selection. "Ain't those hormones of yours supposed to stop all that or whatever?"

"Usually. I'm going to arrange a hysterectomy by next year, so it'll be a non-issue."

Michigan was privately surprised Walter hadn't already had one, considering how he disliked half-assing anything. But, then again, it wasn't as if the working class had easy access to medical care beyond the very basics. Walter was still paying off the top surgery Furlong had arranged for him as part of his recruitment, and they'd definitely overcharged for that.

"You gonna get another loan with Furlong?"

"Yeah. Like you said, I thought I'd naturally stop by now, but this body's a persistant piece of work. I may as well take more permanent steps."

Spoken so clinically and with an edge of irritable dismissiveness, like his body was an obstacle to bully into compliance, rather than it being, y'know, his body. But Walter was a weirdo and not even four years knowing him had Michigan any closer to understanding how he ticked.

"And let me guess... I'm gonna have to be nursemaid while you recover from all that," Michigan drawled. "Have me wait on you hand and foot?"

"No. I'll be fine. There won't be any need for you to-"

"Like hell. I'm not an idiot. Having a whole entire organ taken out of ya isn't something you can just pop painkillers for and carry on as usual."

"It is with strong enough painkillers."

Ibuprofen Incident. "Haha, fuck you. I'll break your damn legs if that's what it'll take to make you rest, you piece of- uh. Ahem."

He cut himself off, seeing a lady in the aisle giving him a rather judgemental glare. He refocused on the pads in front of him, blindly grabbing the closest one. Dark blue with a moon on it, had wings, was for heavy flow. Good enough. If it was cheap and chafed, then fuck it, Walter can deal.

"Not paying attention to your surroundings again, huh, Michigan?"

"And you're still a jack bastard. You've got two perfectly functioning legs, yet here I am, braving the feminine health aisle so you're not leaving a fucking blood trail across the local supermarket like you're Carrie on a grocery run. You should be nice to me."

"I'm always nice to you."

"Not once have I heard a 'thank you, Michigan' for the great sacrifice I'm currently enduring."

"I'm hanging up now."

"Yeah, you do that, ungrateful ass."

"Spoiled brat. Buy me chocolate too."

"You-" Beepbeep. "-hung up. Asshole."

Michigan wasn't bothered though. In fact, he was smiling as he stowed his phone and obligingly veered towards the confectionary aisle. Walter may be a fucking mystery at times, but he wasn't boring and he certainly wasn't afraid of pushing Michigan's buttons. Made him interesting, even if he was downright frustrating at times.

"Masochist, definitely some kind of masochist," Michigan lamented. "Ah well."

After all, if he wanted an easy ride he would be an executive at Furlong, obediently acting the part of his father's snot-nosed protege. Yet here he was, shopping for his asshole of a- whatever Walter was to him. Boyfriend was too juvenile... lover? Too bodice rippery. Partner? Ugh, too corporate.

He pondered this all the way to the till, where the cashier, a young, sporty looking woman, smiled at his purchases and said: "Oh, shopping for your wife, sir?"

Michigan, half-listening and not fully processing the question, said: "Male-wife, actually."

"Oh, uh, I see..."

It was only when Michigan was leaving the supermarket with purchases in hand that he fully processed what he had just said and burst into laughter, startling a few nearby shoppers.

Malewife.

Oh yeah.

Definitely calling Walter that to his face.