#did it get a tiny release or what because there are barely any posts about it here and just 4 reviews on imdb :|

[magpieinthemorning]

La terra dei figli (2021)

[writeforfandoms]

Waking Lions 22

Find the series masterlist

Here we are folks! Three more chapters after this. I will be posting one chapter a week until this is done.

Hopefully that's enough incentive to keep y'all from mobbing me. Hee hee.

Warnings: Canon typical violence, stressful situations, threats of violence, deceitful practices and language, swearing, injury.

Word count: 1.3k

John parked in front of the building, which looked as nondescript as ever. But it felt like it had been much longer since you’d last been here, longer than the hours that had actually passed.

Less than a day. Less than one full day you’d been gone, and your world had tipped sharply. 

Thinking about it made you nauseous, so you shunted the thought aside. Kate. You were here for Kate. Everything else would wait. 

“Stay behind us,” John insisted, handing you the gun again. He held your gaze, waiting until you nodded to release the gun to you. 

You followed the two of them up the stairs, for once itching not to run away from something, but towards it. You needed to make sure Kate was okay, get her away from Gray and home safely to her wife.

Anything else, you could handle. But not losing Kate. 

John slowed as the three of you approached the top floor. He shot you one single look, a very clear reminder to stay behind him. 

You didn't need reminding. You had no intention of acquiring more bullet holes any time soon. 

John and Roach went first, pushing open the door to the top floor and sweeping the space. You moved a little more slowly after them, swallowing hard. 

Find Kate and leave. That's all you cared about. 

The door to the conference room shattered with a gunshot from inside. John and Roach both moved, and you ended up being pushed into the wall by Roach. The second shot hit the wall harmlessly. 

The fire alarm went off, likely pulled by someone on a lower floor. You grimaced at the loud siren, the extra noise doing nothing to help the situation. But Roach just motioned you to stay put. 

What remained of the door opened with a crash. The mercenary had barely stepped out of the room before John shot him, the body falling in front of the door. 

“I see you are still alive,” Gray called through the open door. “A pity my men did not do their job.” 

“And they still won't.” John kept his fury leashed, voice cold. “Give up now and I might let you live.” 

Gray laughed, sending goosebumps up your spine. “Such bravado! I am not surprised. But you see, you are outnumbered. I have something you want, whereas you… have nothing.” 

Roach pushed you back harder into the wall, which was good because you had just opened your mouth to protest. Instead you made a tiny wheezing noise as half the air in your lungs was forced out by the soldier in front of you. 

Fucking rude. 

“That so?” John remained calm, staying out of sight of the open door. 

“Price,” Kate said from inside the room. 

You clenched your hands as tight as you could around the gun. Fuck. She sounded okay, but… 

“Laswell.” John, somehow, was still not audibly responding. 

“You see? Something you want.” Gray sounded far too smug. 

John was silent for a few long moments, shifting his position just enough to be able to look at you and Roach. He lifted one finger to his lips, holding your gaze, and waited until you nodded to look away. 

“I do have something you want,” John pointed out, calm but cold. He had a plan, clearly. 

At least, you hoped he had a plan. If he didn't, he was faking it very well. 

“You?” Gray laughed. “What could you have that I want?” Derision dripped from every word, his amusement clearly mocking. 

John didn't seem to care. “Ace. And a way out of this building alive.” 

“You think I won't kill you too?” Gray hissed, the still-screeching fire alarm only making him sound more unhinged. 

“You're welcome to try,” John ground out, voice lowering to an absolutely threatening growl. 

Silence from the meeting room for several long moments. If you had to guess, Gray was debating his options. Debating the best way forward to get what he wanted. 

You fidgeted behind Roach, swallowing back nerves as best you could. It was not in your nature to stand by and listen to people haggling over your life. 

Roach reached back and tapped you twice on the side. You weren't sure if that was supposed to be reassurance or a reminder to stay quiet. Either way, you drew in a deep breath. 

“What is it you're proposing?” Gray asked finally. 

John was quiet for a moment, and you could see his gaze flick to you. “An exchange,” he finally offered. 

If you trusted him any less, you would have been outraged. As it was, Roach's tap to your side was unnecessary. You weren't going to jeopardize John. 

“Intriguing,” Gray said, curious. “I do appreciate a man who can weigh the worth of two lives and choose one.” 

Your jaw clenched tight at that, a memory slamming into you, of Gray standing before you father. Something about the weight of lives… But it was gone again, shoved back deep where you'd buried it. You needed to focus. Not fall apart. 

“Then come out,” John goaded. “Get this over with before more people get involved.” 

As if to emphasize his words, the fire alarm screeched once more and went quiet. The sudden silence was almost worse than the constant noise. Almost. 

The silence stretched. Five seconds. Ten. Too long, much too long. Gray was planning something, he always was, John had to know–

Gunshots broke the silence, and Roach pushed you harder back into cover, obstructing your view as he did. But you could hear the gunfire continue, then a masculine shout. Two more shots, a little different sounding than the earlier ones. The sounds of a struggle - grunts and thuds. 

Then three more shots, so close together you almost couldn't hear the difference. 

“Do not shoot,” Kate barked.

You perked up, straining to try to see around Roach. He didn't move, keeping you covered for now. 

There was a brief choking noise, spluttering, another thud. The steady beat of boots against the floor. 

“Need help?” John asked, further away now. Glass crunched under boots. 

“Move,” you hissed at Roach. “Let me see–” You pushed past him with a little bit of a struggle, half-running past the bodies on the floor without a second glance at them. 

There were exactly two people you cared to see right now. The bodies weren't either of them. 

You skidded to a halt outside the shattered glass door, peering into the room. Two more bodies on the floor, blood slowly seeping into the thin carpet. John, standing over Kate and Gray, where Kate had Gray pinned face-down in what looked like a truly agonizing hold. 

Blood smeared from Kate's temple into her mussed hair and down her cheek. 

The floor next to Gray's head caved in under the bullet, bits of carpeting flying away from the impact. Gray shouted something indistinguishable, thrashing a little under Kate. 

“Ace,” John soothed, turning to face you. “We've got him. Give me the gun.” 

You didn't give him the gun, gaze trained on Gray. On the man who'd haunted your nightmares for years. 

“Ace,” John repeated. “Give me the gun.” One hand stretched out slowly towards you, careful not to spook you. 

He needn't have worried. You would never shoot him. 

Kate said your birth name softly, and your gaze snapped to her instead. She watched you, holding Gray down with little effort. The pain he was in likely helped with that. “I've got him,” she told you, steady and calm. “Steady.”

You blinked once, looking back down to Gray. He was no longer moving, breathing hard against the carpet. You hadn't seen him last time, when Kate had captured him that first time. You didn't know if this was quite the same. 

But you did know that this time, you weren't a scared little girl. 

“I'm sorry, Kate,” you said sincerely. “But you had him last time, too.” 

You pulled the trigger.

[noharaaa]

𝒮𝓌𝒶𝓃𝙋𝙪𝙣𝙠: 𝘚𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘛𝘩𝘢𝘯 𝘍𝘪𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 (sneak peek)

Pairing: Hobie Brown x Josephine Jameson! Fem!Spider-Ballerina OC!

Author’s Note: A glimpse of Jobie's first official meeting shown here. This is a draft version, so the actual material may alter from this but still have the same general idea once I release it.

This beautiful spider OC belongs to anon tagged below. Please check out their blog if you haven’t yet. They post a wonderful Jobie art.

⠀͓ ↷˚‧⁺ @qirarey123 ╰┄ི͙┈ 𖡼࿔

Enjoy Reading!

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ���᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

(RE-EDITED because I’m a raging perfectionist who cringes at any slight errors.)

Self doubt and criticism. Those were the only thoughts racking her brain. She just couldn’t catch a break no matter how she tried. The voice in the back of her head was always there, pointing out everything she messed up.

Everything she thinks she is.

Failure. Not good enough.

Here, Josephine was again. Spiralling. Drowning in her own negativity.

Why couldn’t she be perfect? Why couldn’t she be enough? What was the point of even-

“Oi, your shoes are a bit mashed up, innit?”

A random voice snapped her right out of her thoughts, like a bucket of ice water spilled over her. She blinked, still a bit lost, her ears almost twitching to wonder whoever said that random comment. Her head was still a foggy mess from her bundle of thoughts.

“My what?”

Blissful. She had no idea what the guy just said.

But there he was, leaning against the doorframe, all nonchalant. Tall, intimidating in a laid-back kind of way, with hair that made him look even taller. She could barely make out his silhouette near the bright doorway, too weighed down by her own mess.

It took her a moment to adjust her eyes, realizing that he was looking at her shoes. Her head tilted downwards, following his gaze. Her pointe shoes were wrecked. Again.

She sighed, because of course they were.

“You're not gonna fire back with anything? Come on, don’t just take it. I don’t bite……Well, not hard, anyway.”

Her brows furrowed a little, tilting her head slightly in confusion. He was talking so fast, it was hard to keep up. His accent wasn’t helping either.

“Sorry….what?”

“I said I don’t bite. Do I need to slow down for you?”

It took her a few beats to process his sarcasm before she snapped back, “What does pride have to do with hearing?”

Great. Now she was feeling dumb on top of everything else. She hadn’t even noticed how badly worn out her shoes were until he pointed it out. Now all she could think about was how trash they looked. And here she was now getting roasted for it.

The guy just leaned back like he owned the place.

“The joke. Just whizzed right over-ah, forget it. But seriously, it looks like you’ve been stompin’ through thorn bush, you know.”

He seemed to be enjoying himself, like he was waiting for her to snap. She could tell from his voice.

“What’s your deal with my shoes? Who cares?”

“Because, mate, you can’t keep runnin’ around in those things. What if one of them falls apart mid-dance? You’ll be halfway across the room before you even notice.”

Now Josephine was getting annoyed.

“It’s really not that serious, okay? I can just get new shoes.” she retorted before quietly muttering in French, «Merde».

“Well, I figured a ballerina like you would at least care about her footwork . But seriously, your shoes are so done they are less like pointe shoes and more like….point*less* shoes”

Josephine wasn’t ready for it, but she actually chuckled. Almost shocked that it might’ve happened involuntarily.

She glanced down at her shoes again. They did look like something out of a bargain bin. Maybe worse. She looked back up at him, a tiny grin creeping onto her delicate face.

“See, now you’re just laughin’ at my rubbish jokes.” He grinned back, catching her reaction, “You’re supposed to be mad.”

She shrugged with a slight smile, “Maybe your jokes are just bad enough to be funny.”

“As long as you’re not taking it too seriously. You seem to got enough on your plate without worryin’ about those shoes.”

Maybe he was right. She had to stop walking through thorns.

╰᭡⿴༘͜─𖧷̷۪۪᪇ ༘᪇𖧷̷۪۪⃟ꦽ⃟:: ᰰ۪۪꧇⿴༘⃕▦᰷᰷ᰰ

Let me know if you would like to be on the tag list!

[stephstars08]

Still Alive ~ Chapter Four

Ethan Landry x Reader

Warnings: Murder, Violence, Weapons, Adult Language, Parent Issues, Nightmares, Trauma, Death Threats, Angst, A tiny bit of Fluff, Blood, Ghostface Attack, and Stabbing. (Sorry if I forgot any!)

Word Count: 2,540

Author’s Note: Hello Again Everyone! Happy to say that this chapter is finally when the action starts to begin!!! I wanted to tell you all now that I am currently writing another scream fanfic however this is in a universe where there is no ghostface! It takes place in high school. It’s based off the song called Teenage Dirtbag. It’s a Ethan x Reader story again. I will say it won’t be ready to post for a while since I’ve got a lot going on in my personally life so my writing process is slowed at the moment. I have a Jack Champion one shot in mind that includes some of the Avatar cast. I do want to write some Avatar stories as well which I know will be a challenge that I’m up for! Anyways, thank you to the ones who are reading this and the story! I hope you enjoy this chapter and next chapter will be posted Sunday!

When Chad brought Sam into the apartment Y/N was sitting with Ethan on the chair while Quinn was sitting on the couch with Mindy and Anika. Tara was sitting on a different chair by herself. Everyone had a worried gaze on the TV. A guy who lives downstairs followed Sam which Quinn noticed right away. “Cute boy. Nice!” Quinn said to Sam with a nod of her head. “What’s going on?” Sam asked with worry in her tone. Chad just pointed at the television.

 “I’m standing in front of the apartment building where the mutilated bodies were found.” The reporter said. Everyone in the room had their eyes glued to the screen. “Their names have been released by the police. Jason Carvey, and Greg-.” The reporter said but before the group could listen to the last name of the other victim Mindy spoke.  “Holy shit, that’s that chod from our film studies class! The one obsessed with Orchento.” Mindy said to Tara in a surprised tone. “Also found at the scene were various Ghostface costumes, the character popularized by the ‘Stab’ movie franchise.” The reporter said.

 Y/N felt her whole-body tense up. She quickly thought back to the party. That guy who was dressed as Ghostface. Could that have been one of them? Did they go and kill those guys and head right to the party acting like it was nothing? She jumped a little when she felt an arm wrap around her shoulders but quickly relaxed when she realized it was just Ethan. He gave her a comforting smile which helped her relax. She returned the smile but also felt a strong glare on them. When she looked over, she noticed it was Quinn looking at them with a glare. When their eyes met Quinn looked away and back to the television. Y/N is close to everyone in this room but Quinn. She feels like Quinn has a huge problem with her and she has no idea why.

 “Pack a bag, we leave in ten.” Sam told Tara in a stern tone and walked out of the room. “Sam! Wait, Sam!” Tara called out as she quickly stood up. “We’re getting out of the city.” Sam called out from the kitchen. “What?” Cute boy said with a mixture of confusion and concern in his tone. “Thank you, very much suspicious new guy, but I think we can handle it from here. Have a good night, get home safe.” Chad said as he pushed the guy out of the apartment and shut the door.

 Tara called out to Sam again. Sam grabbed a knife and walked back into the living room. “Sam wh-what, hold on.” Tara said with panic in her tone because of her sister holding a huge kitchen knife. “Come on.” Sam said to her, acting all calm. “Hold on, wait, let’s talk about this for a second.” Tara started. “Cause’ this-this might not have anything to do with us.” Tara explained stumbling over her words again. “Are you serious?” Sam said she was starting to get annoyed with her sister again. “You knew him!” Sam hissed pointing at the TV. “Barely.” Tara hissed back.

 “Chad, Mindy, Y/N, back me up.” Sam called out to them trying to get some sense into Tara. “I mean it is a little bit- “Chad started to say shuffling his feet around. “Close to home.” Mindy said finishing Chad’s sentence. Everyone then looked at Y/N which made her sigh. Why does she have to be a part of this fucked up situation? “As being the daughter of a former Woodsboro cop who went through this shit like a hundred times. This can’t be just a coincidence.” Y/N explained to Tara with a serious look in her eyes. “See!” Sam told Tara.

 “Quinn, your dad’s a cop, right?” Tara asked looking over at Quinn. “Can you call him and find out what’s going on?” Tara added on. “Before you make the unilateral decision to abandon my college education and flee the fucking state!” Tara snapped looking back at Sam with a nasty glare in her eyes. “I’m calling him now.” Quinn said, putting her phone up to her ear. She stood up from the couch and walked into a different room.

 The room was all quiet till Sam’s phone started to ring, making the whole room tense up. Sam walked over to her phone that was on the dining table. “Who is it?” Y/N asked trying to not sound scared but didn’t do a very good job. “Your mom.” Sam said relieved seeing the name ‘Gale Weathers’ flashing on her phone. “Hit fucking decline!” Y/N hissed now angry and annoyed.

 Sam did exactly what she told her to do. Y/N knew her mom just called Sam to ask her for a comment about the latest murders. Y/N feels like her mom cares more about her stupid ass career than anything. Quinn came running back into the room. “Sam, my dad wants to talk to you.” Quinn said, handing her phone over to Sam. Sam let out a sigh as she took the phone.

 As Sam talked on the phone with Detective Bailey the whole room was silent which made Y/N slip deep into her thoughts. Of course, she was thinking about this new Ghostface, but she was also thinking about her careless mother. A normal mom would call her daughter up to ask if she and her friends are okay. Not to call up one of them to ask them questions about the fucking murder. Y/N really wished that her dad was here with her. If he was here, she knows she would feel a whole lot safer. Y/N broke out of her thoughts when Sam spoke.

 “Detective Bailey needs me to come down to the station.” Sam said giving the phone back to Quinn after she changed her shirt really quick. Sam grabbed her phone putting it into her back pocket. She also grabbed her jacket and keys and walked out of the apartment. Tara grabbed her jacket and quickly followed Sam.

 “I’ll be right back.” Y/N said as she stood up. “Where are you going?” Ethan asked her. “I need to go give my mom a special call.” Y/N said, taking her phone out of her pocket and walked into the kitchen. “Expect to hear some yelling.” Mindy warned everyone as she let out a sigh.

 ~~~~~~~~~~

It was the next day and Y/N was completely exhausted due to the lack of sleep. Right when she and Mindy got back home to their apartment, they got a call from Tara saying her and Sam got attacked by Ghostface. She reassured them that she and Sam didn’t get hurt and were at the police station for questioning. That was one of the reasons why Y/N didn’t get enough sleep. It was like every time she closed her eyes, she had a nightmare, and they were worse than before.

 Since she knew that they would continue to the point where she wouldn’t be able to sleep at all she gave Sam a call when she got up this morning asking for the number of the therapist she’d been seeing. Sam gave her the number and then mentioned to her that they had a run in with her mom outside the police station which had her fuming. Why won’t her mom just fucking listen to her? After she ended the phone call with Sam, she gave the therapist a call and was able to get an appointment this afternoon since he had a cancellation.

 Y/N was sitting in the plaza on the school campus with the whole group. Y/N was sitting in between Ethan and Tara. Tara was sitting next to Chad while Sam, Anika, and Quinn sat on a bench together. Mindy was standing in front of everyone. “Already nerds, listen up!” Mindy said as she clapped her hands together.

 “As terrifying as this all is, I’m actually glad I get a chance to redeem myself for not calling the killers last time.” Mindy said with disappointment at the end of her sentence. Y/N rolled her eyes. She didn’t even want to be there, but Mindy made her. “It’s fine.” Mindy said quickly, changing her mood. “The way I see it, someone is out to make a sequel to the requel.” Mindy told everyone. Anika raised her hand. “Um, what’s a requel?” Anika asked in a curious and innocent tone. “You’re beautiful sweetie, let’s hold questions ‘till the end.” Mindy said to her girlfriend as Anika put her hand down. “Stab one took place in Woodsboro, Stab two took place in college.” Sam chimed in. “Do we think that the killer is trying to copy the movies?” Tara asked in a curious tone. “That is one possibility.” Mindy said, pointing at Tara.

 “Hero’s now in college, check. Suspicious new characters brought in to round the suspect list and/or body count, check, check, and check.” Mindy explained by pointing to Quinn, Anika, and then Ethan. “I don’t like this!” Ethan said with a mixture of fear and nervousness in his tone. Y/N could tell that his heart was racing so she took one of his hands into hers and gave it a light squeeze. “Hey, it’s okay. Relax.” Y/N told him in a calm tone as she gave him a smile. “Okay.” Ethan said with a nod as he looked into her eyes, which were helping him calm down. “Hey lovebirds.” Mindy called out getting their attention. “May I continue?” Mindy asked with a stern look in her eyes. “Yes, please continue.” Y/N said in annoyance as she shot a glare at Mindy. Mindy was really getting on her nerves today.

 “As I was saying, it can’t just be about Stab two.” Mindy said, getting back to her lecture. “Why not?” Tara asked her. “It would make sense if that were just a sequel, because nobody just makes sequels anymore!” Mindy said as excitement started to build up inside of her. “Don’t say, don’t say, don’t say it!” Y/N mumbled out. “We’re in a franchise!” Mindy said, throwing both of her arms up into the air. “There it is.” Y/N said with a groan. “And there are certain rules to a continuing franchise.” Mindy told them. “I had a feeling.” Sam said with a sigh.

 “Rule one, everything is bigger than last time! Bigger budge, bigger cast, bigger body count, longer chases, shoot outs, beheadings, gotta top what came before to keep people coming back.” Mindy said starting to list off the rules of horror movies. “Beheadings?” Chad asked looking up from the notebook he was writing in. “Beheadings.” Mindy told him with a point of the finger.

 “Rule two, whatever happened last time, expect the opposite. Franchises only survive by subverting expectations, and if the killers last time were whiny snowflake film nerds with letterboxed accounts instead of personalities, you can bet the opposite will be true here.” Mindy said explaining rule two. Mindy was starting to give Y/N a headache.

 “And rule three, no one is safe.” Mindy said in a stern tone. “Legacy character, cannon folder at this point. Usually brought back only to be killed off in some cheap bid for nostalgia.” Mindy said it in a much nicer tone than before. “It’s not looking good for Gale and Kirby.” Mindy said with sadness which made now made Y/N’s heart rate speed up. “Woah, hold on!” Y/N said before Mindy could continue.

 “You’re telling me that my mom is on the list to get butchered.” Y/N said in a worried tone. “Like I said, no one is safe.” Mindy told her which struck Y/N’s last nerve. “You know what, I’m done!” Y/N said standing up which made her let go of Ethan’s hand that she actually didn’t even realize she was still holding onto. “Y/N, I’m just- “Mindy started to say but Y/N immediately cut her off. “NO!” Y/N yelled making everyone in the group jump.

 “I lost two family members because of this Ghostface shit!” Y/N said with anger as she picked up her bag from the ground. “This isn’t a fucking movie, Mindy; this is real fucking life. I’m not going to fucking sit here and let you tell me I’m going to lose more people, especially my mom.” Y/N told her in a snappy tone and walked away from her friends. Yes, she may be super pissed at her mom and doesn’t want to talk to her but she’s still her mom and doesn’t want to see another family member killed. Ethan wanted to follow her, but he knew that she most likely wanted to be alone to cool off. Everyone was in complete shock because they had never seen Y/N like that before. She finally let her friends see all of the anger and frustration that had been building up inside of her.

  ~~~~~~~~~~

Y/N went back to her apartment to cool down and take some medicine for headache. She relaxed a little bit till she had to go to her appointment. Y/N decided to just walk since it really wasn’t that far of a walk. When Y/N got to the address she saw the front door was wide open and a body was just lying there. As she walked closer and closer to the door her heartrate kept speeding up. When she got to the door she gasped in complete horror. The therapist was laying on the ground. His face was all bloody, it looked like he was stabbed through the face.

 Y/N stepped into the house to get a better view but that turned out to be a huge mistake because she was grabbed from behind. As Y/N struggled she noticed the familiar black sparkly gloves holding onto her tightly. “Get off me you motherfucker!” Y/N hissed as she used all of her strength to back Ghostface into the wall which made them let go of her.

 Y/N ran into what seemed like the living room to find some kind of weapon. Before she could grab anything, she felt something sharp going into her shoulder making her scream in pain. She fell to the hard wood floor after Ghostface took their knife out of her now bleeding shoulder. Ghostface kept trying to stab her legs, but she kept kicking them away as she held onto her shoulder wound.

 Ghostface finally had enough of her, so they grabbed her by the neck and pushed her up against the wall. Y/N struggled to breathe as they held tightly onto her throat. “Say hi to daddy for me!” Ghostface said into their voice changer as they raised their knife. Before Ghostface could stab her with the bloody knife a gunshot rang out. Ghostface dropped her and quickly fled the house. Y/N groaned in pain as her ass hit the hard wood floor.

 “Hey Y/N.” She heard a familiar voice say. When she looked up, she saw Kirby. “Kirby!” Y/N said in a relieved tone. “It’s okay, I got you.” Kirby said walking over to her helping her up from the floor. “Where did they get you?” Kirby asked with concern. “In the shoulder.” Y/N answered in pain as she let Kirby help her out of the house.

 *Tags*

@sweetirilly @aqellano @igotmajordaddyissues @athenalive @hotweeb @ghostlyboiii @marshallowy

[remyfire]

I don't know if I'll keep this post up because this is not what any of y'all are here for, but I have to get it out somewhere. This is just a lot of gritted-teeth venting, so if that's not your style, scroll on, I love you, I hope you see a cat photo soon.

Truly every day of my life I find myself gritting my teeth when I see another joke or article or post or anything at all about booktok romance novels, that specific style of book cover, the disdain about promotional graphics like trope maps, that whole kerfluffle because I just! Wanna be like. Hey guess what! None of us wanted things to go that way either!

Like it really is remarkable sometimes to remember how readers don't necessarily get to see us smaller romance authors gritting our teeth and bitching in our spaces because we hate the trends that are being pushed forward, but also we have to compete somehow, right? We have to be sell books. We have to find a way to be picked up and read in this oversaturated sea. We have to try and gain traction against those people who hire 50 ghostwriters at a time for pathetic rates to churn out romance novels so they can release one literally every month. We have to fight against the 99-cent expectations even though we're lucky to make 35 cents per book sold if we offer it at that rate.

I think one of the most insulting things that publishers did was decide that it was the author's responsibility to go viral on booktok. That way, the publishers got to save a hell of a lot of money on marketing budgets, right? No, we won't be arranging tours unless you're lucky, we won't be pushing your book as hard as we usually should. It is your job to have a social media following that is broad enough that you make your books go viral, not us giving it a boost as your publisher. If you don't go viral on booktok, we will probably not be signing you for another book, sorry, bud.

Cannot express to you either how many of us erotic romance authors especially were gritting our teeth when the cover trend started leaning toward basic primary colors and splotchy abstract shapes. I completely understand that not everybody wants a shirtless man with a 12-pack just slapped on the front cover of the book they're reading—I actually thought it was brilliant when I saw several self-pub authors offering both the traditional steamier cover but also an option of paperbacks with a more tame, understated cover that just makes it look more like a literary novel. But god, it felt so lazy, these aforementioned abstractly illustrated covers. They told me nothing about the book. There was barely a sense of themes or important objects and these shapes had no defining characteristics that set any of the characters apart and they just looked like YA novels, which is fine for YA novels, but how do you market your extremely high-heat romance novel in that cover trend? If you throw together those blotchy illustrated shapes, people are going to think it's sweet or closed-door, and then they get in there and there's 12 graphic sex scenes on the page, and they're furious about it. I loved seeing illustrated covers that were more detailed start to make a move forward, especially because it meant starting to separate the American cultural assumption that illustrated = childish. Letting them be sexy, letting the author be able to represent any kind of protagonist they wanted without being restricted to the tiny selection of mostly skinny white able-bodied cis models on stock photo sites? Incredible. Love that. Want more of it. Wish it was easier to get publishers to really buy in on that.

The fact that readers will complain about promotional things like trope maps when the publishers require the use of them. The publisher makes them, they hand them over, and now you are the one who will be using it because that is contractual and because even if it wasn't, you want your goddamn book in front of people's eyes. And if you are self-pub or indie, if you don't have a substantial marketing budget to spent thousands of dollars on ads, promotions, and whatever the hell else, you are all but required to follow the trend because that's the only way you're gonna get people to share your shit.

And god, the way that it's all reduced to just 'booktok romance novel.' I get what that's referring to, that exact grouping of authors and why they're frustrating, but holy shit, I wanna know how many of those readers have picked up a self-pub or indie romance by a marginalized author. I'll see people complain about the quality of romance novels as compared to the quality of romantic fanfiction and I wanna shake them by the shoulders and say, "It's there! It's out there! It's self-pub and indie romance authors out here doing the goddamn work and you! Aren't! Looking! For it! Because it's easier to mock the genre instead!" Especially self-pub/indie queer romance authors who are marginalized, they are out here revolutionizing the genre and not getting anywhere near the accolades they deserve.

It's just irritating and exhausting. It's frustrating enough to have your genre used as the constant butt of jokes, treated like it's a substandard genre, like all it is is trash, using 'bodice ripper' as a disparaging term for modern romance novels when that is a relic of a very distant past and a historical pinpoint about which we can have an in-depth discussion about the decades-long process of making it socially acceptable for a woman to talk about her sexual desires rather than the 'bodice ripper' days when a woman had to have them forced on her instead before she could ever dream of admitting that she might know her own body and its cravings.

It's frankly embarrassing to see my genre so poorly understood. That's all. The one genre that is devoted to making sure that every marginalized person can have a happy ending of their choosing—marriage, pregnancy, queerplatonic, no sex necessary, no marriage or kids necessary, whatever feels right—rather than just the skinny white able-bodied cis people, that's the one that is always getting the potshots taken at it, and it's really a goddamn shame.

[redraspberryleaf]

I saw that you had a post saying fic writers could ask you for advice writing medical stuff for fic. I was wondering if someone who has had multiple leg breaks that healed improperly would need crutches/leg braces (if so, which would be better and for how long). By healed improperly, I mean the bone wasn't set and he would've kept doing extreme physical activity while the bone was broken. (He had no choice to ignore the pain, if you even wondering why he would do that.) Thank you in advance, and it's okay if you can't get an answer

Answer from a doctor:

The bone would likely would heal in an abnormal shape and length with the muscles and tendons at the incorrect length to accomodate. There would probably be bone spurs that would inflame the muscles and tendons passing over them, especially when doing a lot of moving.

Your character would have limited range of motion, chronic pain, and likely need mobility aids for life. These aids would probably differ day-to-day and depend on the setting, as well as how stubborn and proud they are.

The specifics would all depend on the type of break, which bone, the type of activity that's being done on the break, etc.

Answer from me (based on experience):

Ad a teen I rolled my ankle at the start of a 3000m, completely ignored the injury, and won the race still. Only after that did I realize what happened (apperently the muscles had gotten fucked up and actually shifted my fibula out of place). I didn't break a bone but it was a fibula injury that I ignored and continued training on for months, even going to a week long track camp where I was doing about 20km of high impact on asphalt and hills per day. I ended up with a wicked limp, chronic pain, shin splints, plantar faciatis, and a lateral muscle imbalance across every part of my body but my arms from trying to compensate. Youd look at me from behind and see my hips, my shoulders, my neck, everything was at an angle. Eventually I did enough physio that I was mostly okay again but if I was ever lady and didn't do my stretches, warm up properly, and build up training properly I would get issues coming back. I stopped running in uni and decided to pick it back up again one day and instant plantar faciatis.

The second part to this is experience with an actual broken bone. A couple years ago I broke my fibula. It was a spiral fracture to my left fibula about a third or so of the way up the bone. I crashed on a downhill while skateskiing and because I was in race skis those bindings don't typically have a safety release, so when my ski spun around in a full circle so did my foot. This broke my fibula in a spiral shape.

~side note: if your character is fighting and moving on a broken leg it's probably a fibula since that's not the weight baring bone. This is the one you hear about athletes finishing a game on a broken leg. It's possible with adrenaline but it's still hell and will cause you issues in the long run. A tibia is weight baring so you shouldn't really be able to stand on that, and a femur break usually will get you air lifted to the hospital because you're about to die.~

Anyway, with all the issues of the last injury I'd had, I really stayed off of my broken leg and actually atrophied.

Now with this one, I can say it healed wrong. According to an mri and xrays they don't see any issues but I was treated in a tiny town er during a massive covid spike before the vaccine was available so I never got a second cast after the swelling went down.

After healing, I have always had an aching pain deep in the bone that doesn't go away. It throbs worse with impact activity or if I spend a lot of time on my feet on hard floors. I am a huge sucker for standing on grass these days. That ankle is actually a lot thicker now and is a lot more unstable. I have pain in the bone from the break but on bad days when I'm really hurting the worst of it in in the muscles and tendons of my ankle, the top outside of my calf, and my hip and glute. I never expected this but my ass is SO TIGHT ALL THE TIME and it hurts like a bitch. Massage helps, but it's not the sexy kind. It's the full body weight on an elbow jabbed into my ass cheek or hip flexor kind. This is all because with my ankle being really unstable from the tendons and muscles getting inflamed from popping over small bone spurs all the time, the hip has to work overtime to try to compensate and stabilize more than it normally would. I also experience not quite muscle weakness on that side, so much as muscle fatigue. Basically, everything on that side is working over time and is always tired. For the first three years after I had a wicked limp, was in a lot more pain than I am now, and could only run if I absolutely had to. After doing a lot of physio I can run again but certainly am limping after a 10k. I also have a lot of scars from my bad side making me trip over roots and become impaled on sticks.

I had the opportunity to heal fairly well overall and access physio but I'd I didn't I know I'd be using a cane and taping my ankle constantly. Before I did physio when I lifeguarded I also needed a chair because walking around on tile barefoot for hours would have me in tears even with my hugh pain tolerance. Repeated breaks over time with bad healing and limited access to care would def require mobility aids and would lead to life-long chronic pain.

I'll be back with responses from the rest of the team soon.

Bonus! Where my bone broke starts aching really bad the second I start to get dehydrated. Everything also hurts most at night and the second I stop moving.

[indeedcaptain]

Regulatory Relations, chapter 11: The Children of Tarsus

WAHOO THE PROBLEMS HAVE CONSEQUENCIES

First things first: content warning for descriptions of and discussions regarding someone's eating disorder. It's the fourth section, as separated by the stars. It's not super graphic, but it's present for sure. Go forth with the knowledge necessary to keep yourself safe.

Second: my deepest apologies to anyone who is a real programmer or hacker for the absolute nonsense. There's some real dubious science in the 'dubious science' tag here.

This chapter is also posted on my AO3 here!

☆☆☆

Elise crossed her legs, frowning, and tapped her pen against her chin. Jim slouched deeper into her couch. He was nineteen, still gangly but getting stronger, and he had failed a test that he hadn’t realized that he was taking. 

“I’m sorry to hear that your break didn’t go how you wanted it to,” she said. She watched him carefully. 

“It’s fine,” Jim said. He glanced out the window. The trees outside her building had all long since shed their leaves, and the bare branches were stark against the white winter sky. He hadn’t thought he would be back here so soon, but, as she had said, things hadn’t worked out quite like he had envisioned when he went back to Iowa on his break. 

“What happened?” She no longer asked him if he wanted to talk about things. He wasn’t sure if that was because she no longer wanted to give him the option to be silent or if she knew that he was desperate to talk to anyone who would listen about the rot in him. 

“What always happens,” he said, and he crossed his arms across his chest. She waited until he said, “It came up.” 

“How did it come up, Jim?” 

“How does it not come up?” 

“Don’t mumble, Jim, these old ears can’t hear you.” 

“You’re not even that old,” he said, more clearly, and she put on an air of being affronted. 

“It is not polite to discuss a lady’s age, James,” she said, and when he met her eyes he gave her a tiny, hard-won grin. She smiled gently back. “How did it come up?” 

“My mom asked if I wanted to see any of my home friends.” 

“And did you?” 

“No.” 

“Why not, Jim?”

Jim scoffed, rolling his head against the back of the couch to look out the window again. “Because the last time I saw most of them I was still dying in a hospital bed. I didn’t want them to come but my mom insisted, and now none of them will ever see me the same way. Even now they still see me like I was then.” 

“And your mother didn’t like that?”

“She doesn’t like any reminder that things aren’t back to normal.” 

Elise sighed and put her pen down on her lap. “I’m sorry, Jim. What happened then?”

“She cried about how she just wants to help, and I maybe yelled that she could help by letting me decide how and when I want to see people, and my dad yelled that I was upsetting my mom, and then we were all yelling and crying and then I bought another train ticket and came back.”

“Where was Sam in all this?”

Jim rolled his eyes. “He’s got some girlfriend now and spent the holidays with her family instead. Off-world. Like an asshole.” 

“Only assholes get girlfriends? Or go off-world?” Elise asked gently, and her eyes twinkled when Jim’s face screwed up in frustration.

“That’s not what I meant,” he said. “He’s an asshole for leaving me to deal with Mom and Dad on my own. He was my buffer.”

“That must have been very valuable for you,” she said. “When did that start?”

“After everything. He came back when I got home,” Jim said. “He used to run interference for me when Mom started to be too much.” 

“He left his school to come back?” 

“Yeah,” Jim said, and his throat tightened at the memory of Sam throwing open the hospital room door, just a week after Jim had gotten back to Earth. He had sat down in the chair next to Jim, pulled out his school padds, and did not leave his side until Jim was released. 

“He sounds like a good older brother,” Elise said. “Not an asshole.” 

Jim frowned and ducked his chin to his chest. “He can be both.” 

“Maybe,” Elise said. “Or maybe he saw that you were doing so much better that he knew he didn’t need to be there to protect you anymore.” Jim didn’t respond to that. “People are complicated, Jim, and they have their own needs. Now that you’re better, Sam needs to keep growing up. That means, for him, meeting a nice girl, falling in love, and spending the holidays with her family.”

“He could have brought her home to our family,” Jim grumbled. 

“You could suggest that for next time,” Elise said. “Many couples alternate years. Let’s refocus, though--- it seems to me like the problem isn’t really Sam. It seems like the problem is with your parents.” 

Jim pulled the throw pillow from the corner of the couch and crushed it against his chest before dropping his head against the backboard. “Aren’t we coming up on time?” 

“You know I always have time for you, Jim,” Elise said, and he groaned. But they talked about his parents, and she very politely pretended to take notes on her padd when he wiped away angry tears. 

“They have their own needs, like you, like Sam,” she said. “What they need now is to know that they didn’t lose their little boy forever. Of course things are different. They’ll always be different. But they need time with you that helps them to see what the future might look like. A future without the shadow of the colony over everything. And you can give that to them.” She smiled at him. He wanted to scream, “But I live in that shadow! I am that shadow!” But he didn’t.

“How?” 

“Next time your mom asks if you want to see your old friends, you say yes,” she said. 

“But I don’t want to.” 

She tilted her head gently, and in her face he read the answer: it didn’t really matter what he wanted. “I know, Jim,” she said. “But it’s what they need. Your next break is a few months away. Let’s set a goal of seeing your home friends next time and see if that makes things easier with your parents, hmm?” 

Kirk knew what came next. They had set goals, and he had failed to meet the benchmarks that they had set, and rather than go home and make things worse, he stayed on campus for the holiday at Elise’s encouragement. He still carried the shadow of what had happened over him, and rather than bring his parents and his old friends under the shadow with him, he stayed away. And it had worked. 

Kirk stood and crossed the room, and when he turned back, he looked back and saw himself sitting on the couch. His face was blotchy with frustrated tears, and he wiped his nose on the back of his hand like a child. 

“I’m dreaming,” he realized, but neither his younger self nor Elise acknowledged him. He blinked, and the nineteen-year-old version of himself was replaced with himself at twenty-three. This version of Jim sat up straight, with his legs crossed casually, one arm slung across the back of the couch. Kirk recognized the beginnings of the captain’s mask in the set of the young man’s face. He was older, more distant, but Elise looked at him just as warmly.

“These panic attacks, Jim,” she said, and looked down at her chart. She didn’t frown at Jim, but he could sense her disappointment in him. 

“I don’t have to stay here,” Kirk said, and he forced numb dream legs to carry him to the door. “This is a dream and I don’t have to stay here.” He yanked the door to Elise’s office open and strode out.

He walked directly into Elise’s office, appearing right where he had stood before, behind her chair.

“You want to be a captain, don’t you?” 

Kirk marched to the door again and crossed the threshold into the hallway to find himself back into Elise’s office. He could not leave. “Wake up,” he told himself, but the office remained material around him. 

“More than anything,” Jim said. 

Elise shifted in her chair, folding her hands in her lap, before pinning him with an intense gaze. “When you’re the captain of your own ship, you’re going to need to be unassailable.” 

There was a break in the expression on Jim’s face, and it revealed his fear. Elise said, earnesty in every syllable, “You’re going to be amazing, Jim. I know it. But to be the man that a whole crew relies on in a crisis is going to require more from you. To keep them from panicking, you have to be able to hide your own.”

Jim nodded, and Kirk found himself nodding with him. He tried to keep his neck still, his head unbowed, but he blinked and he was back on the couch, back in his twenty-three-year-old body. His joints ached.

“You were doing so well,” Elise said sadly, and her tone was incongruous with the soft smile on her face. 

“I am doing well,” Kirk said, defensive. He crossed his arms across his chest.

She consulted her padd. “You’ve been talking to your first officer, Jim? About your residual stress?” For a second her familiar warm tone dropped into a sneer; it told him exactly what she thought of his stress .

Kirk’s stomach flipped. “This is a dream,” he said. “This isn’t real. You don’t know my first officer.” 

“How can he trust you if he learns that so many things trigger this response in you? Your crew needs you to be the bulkhead against which they rest.”

“I am the bulkhead,” he said. “They can trust me. I haven’t let them down.” 

She smiled at him. Her pink and blue cardigan flickered into the bloody red of a security shirt, and her teeth were sharp and glinting. “Not yet.” 

Kirk woke, gasping into his sheets. He buried his face in the mattress and fought to slow his pounding heart. He was thirty-five, and on the Enterprise , and safe in his quarters. He had not let his crew down, and he had no plans to do so. Everything was fine. He would settle himself, subdue his anxiety into something more manageable, and everything would be fine. 

Fabric scraped against fabric as something moved across the room. Kirk bolted upright. Spock had crossed halfway to him, concern apparent in the scrunch of his eyebrows. 

How can he trust you? Elise’s voice echoed in his head, and his face burned with shame. He turned away from Spock, pulling himself from the bed, clenching the edge of the mattress in his hands.

“Captain, are you well?” Spock had stepped closer, within arm’s reach of him. 

“Fine,” he said shortly. How had he forgotten that he wasn’t alone? He had no space to breathe; there was a witness to his panic. “Just a weird dream. Excuse me.” Spock stood between him and the bathroom, trapping him. He sidestepped around Spock. Spock turned with him and reached for him, clasping his wrist loosely in one cool hand. “Captain---”

Kirk ripped his arm from his grasp and, ignoring Spock’s short, sharp inhale, strode into the bathroom. The door slid shut behind him, sealing him in blessed solitude. Forget hiding his feelings for a few days: he could not share quarters with Spock for a minute longer. He clearly could not trust himself not to have nightmares about the colony, or about Elise. Spock could not be there to see it. 

Kirk had gotten sloppy, gotten weak. He’d let Spock touch him too much, had enjoyed it too deeply, and now that simple contact was going to undo his years of effort and secrecy. He could not let Spock count his heartbeats or sense his anxiety through his telepathy any longer. He needed to push them back to the boundaries that they had maintained previously, before he lost Spock’s trust in his stability entirely. He had to be the bulkhead.

He set the shower temperature to punishingly hot and stepped under the spray. Asking Spock not to touch him anymore didn’t have to be a huge deal. Maybe he would be relieved. Maybe the picture of the way he looked at Kirk at the wedding was a fluke. He dried, dressed, and walked back into their room.

Spock had dressed while he was gone and stood with his hands clasped, leaning against his desk. He pushed upright as Kirk entered. 

“Mr. Spock,” Kirk said, and Spock tilted his head to the side slightly. The way he moved had become so dear to Kirk. He hated it. He exhaled hard through his nose and put his hands on his hips. “Look. There’s not an audience in here, and the paperwork is all signed. You don’t have to touch me anymore.” 

Spock hesitated before taking a step forward. Kirk gave no ground. “I am aware, Jim.” 

“Then you can stop. Mission accomplished.”

“I could,” Spock said, and he took another step forward. His eyes were fixed on Kirk’s. Kirk looked away. “But I have learned this week that you like when I touch you.” Another step. “I have learned that I do too.” 

Damn it, Spock. Damn it all. His tone was warm, inviting, intimate. Spock’s words put fireworks in his stomach, and Kirk’s hands ached with the effort of keeping them at his sides. Kirk forced himself to say, “But I don’t.” 

“You do not, what?” Spock’s voice was quiet. He was a foot away from Kirk. He could have put his hand on Kirk’s chest, felt the unsteady pounding of his heart, if he reached out. 

“I don’t like it.” 

Spock’s surprised blink was audible in the silence. “I do not understand,” Spock said, and his voice had turned robotic. Kirk’s heart sank, and shame burned under his skin. “Since you set this plan in motion you have encouraged my touch. You have accepted it. I have experienced your physical and emotional responses, both of which communicated appreciation and enjoyment. During--- during our wedding, I felt---” Spock stuttered, and cut himself off. 

Spock never stuttered. Kirk, despite himself, looked up. He saw the war on Spock’s face before Spock snapped his impassive mask down. Kirk was hurting him. He was protecting Spock from a lifetime of misery by cutting off whatever they could be at the roots, but he was hurting him. He felt his heart dying in his chest.

After a painful, silent moment, Spock’s eyes met his. “Repeat yourself, captain.” 

Kirk set his jaw as his stomach heaved. “I don’t like when you touch me.” Faster than Kirk could think, Spock’s hand flashed out and wrapped around his wrist as he said, “I want you to stop.” Kirk shoved Spock back 

“What the hell, Spock? I said---”

“Why are you lying---”

Kirk tried to yank his wrist from Spock’s grasp but it had become an unyielding cage. “Let go,” he hissed, and to his surprise, Spock released him. Spock clasped his hands behind his back, but not before Kirk saw that they were shaking. 

“Jim,” Spock said, and his voice was low and raw. Kirk’s skin burned where his hand had been. “I do not understand. Your words are in conflict with your emotions and actions from the past week, and you are in evident distress. Please. Let me help you.” 

“I don’t need help,” Kirk said, and he turned away. He stared at his--- their--- shelves and crossed his arms. His shame and grief calcified into anger. Why could Spock not let it, him, go? “I need you to stop touching me.” 

“I do not believe you,” Spock said. 

“You don’t have to believe me,” Kirk snapped. “You just have to do it.” 

Spock stiffened as if Kirk had slapped him, and turned so that Kirk could no longer see his face. Spock was silent for nearly half a minute before he asked, “Have I done something to offend you, captain?” 

Kirk closed his eyes. “No, Mr. Spock.” 

Spock was silent again before he said, “Very well.” Another pause, then he said, contemplative and cold, “You always surprise me, captain.” Kirk heard three steps, and then the turbodoor swished open and shut. When he opened his eyes again, he was alone. 

☆☆☆

Kirk fled to Medbay as soon as he was sure he could leave their quarters without seeing Spock in the hallway. Kirk let himself into Bones’s office and, by the time Bones finished his morning appointments and let himself in, Kirk had claimed the less comfortable of the two chairs to slouch in and buried his face in his hands. 

Bones sighed when he opened the door, but he showed no sign of surprise. “I thought I might find you in here,” he said. Kirk sat up. 

“Why?”

“Because Uhura got a padd message while she was visiting Chapel and fled like a bat out of hell about thirty minutes ago.” 

“Shit.” 

“Good shit or bad shit?” Bones asked, and he dropped himself into his desk chair. “What happened?” 

Kirk scraped his hands through his hair. He relished in the hurt of it. “Spock showed his hand.” 

“He told you he was interested?” 

“More or less.”

“And you swooned into his arms because you feel the same?” Kirk clenched his jaw and looked down. “Oh, Jimmy, no. What did you say?”

“I told him to stop touching me,” Kirk said numbly.

“That’s real cold,” Bones said, and Kirk glared at him. 

“Thank you for that, doctor. Who’s side are you on, anyway?” 

Bones slapped his hand down on the desk. “Yours, Jim, always, but it seems like you’re not even on your side right now! You found everything you wanted in the man standing by your side and you turned him away? Look, I know that I can never understand what you went through, but---” 

“This isn’t about me!” Kirk was on his feet before realizing that he had moved. “I am trying to be a good captain and a good friend. I am trying to keep him from having to live with what I live with. Forget bonding. We can’t even live together. He tried to touch me after a--- a nightmare this morning, and I won’t risk losing my first officer’s trust in me because I can’t get my act together!”

Bone’s eyes were sharp over his desk as he jabbed his finger in Kirk’s direction. “I don’t know who put that damn fool idea in your head, but it’s about time you got it out. I know you went at school, Jim, but therapy might---”

Kirk scoffed. “No more therapy. That’s where I got these damn fool ideas, anyway. You know, the crazy notion of protecting your crew,” he said, and turned to leave. 

Bone’s face went entirely slack. “What do you mean, that’s where you got these ideas from?” He mirrored Kirk, bracing himself on his desk as he stood, and Kirk turned back to him. “Jim, you endured an unendurable situation as a kid . My God, man, the stress response to hunger alone regardless of context is---” 

“Stop, Bones! Just don’t! I don’t want to talk about it!” 

“That is the entire problem!” Bones’s face was reddening. “Jim, I need you to explain what you meant that your therapist was the one who said that you were untrustworthy.” 

Kirk grimaced and turned away from Bones, the quick flare of anger condensing into a bleak numbness. “Not in so many words, but yes,” he said. He had never prayed harder for a black hole to swallow him up. “Just, that. Are you genuinely going to make me spell this out for you?” But he had lost Bones’s attention to the wall over his shoulder. 

“Jim, why did you ask me about a therapist crossing over between departments?”

“No reason,” Kirk said, but Bones narrowed his eyes. Gone was the southern gentleman, and his friend: he had been replaced by Starfleet’s number one diagnostician, the chief medical officer on the Federation’s flagship, a surgeon who regularly pulled miracles out of gaping wounds. Kirk might have been the captain of the ship, but Bones ranked him in Medbay.

“You saw a Starfleet doctor rather than a civilian one when you were yanked off of Tarsus.” Kirk absolutely did not flinch at the name. “You were assigned a Starfleet therapist at the Academy, one who apparently pushed you to hide your post-traumatic stress response in the name of your crew ,” Bones said, voice acerbic, and his eyes scanned from left to right in a way that made Kirk think he was reading his medical records from memory. Bones turned back to Kirk. He came around the desk, standing in front of Kirk. Kirk took a step back. “Jim, I need to know. Why did you ask about security officers?” 

Kirk had to look away from those blue, blue eyes. “I looked up my old therapist. The morning of the wedding. I had forgotten her name.” 

“And you found her?” 

“Yeah. But she wasn’t in Medical. She was a security officer. And her record is nearly empty.”

Bones stared at him, frowning. Kirk finally looked back at him. For a moment, Bones read his face before focusing hard on the wall over his shoulder, thinking. 

“Jim,” he said slowly, and leaned back against his desk with his arms crossed. 

“I’m fine,” Kirk said.

“You’re not,” Bones said, voice rough, and his eyes flicked to Kirk’s. “And I’m sorry I didn’t press the matter before. But I need to be your doctor before your friend right now, and you told me, Jim, you said you weren’t having nightmares anymore.” 

Kirk looked away. Bones said, “For how long?” 

“It’s not every day,” Kirk said. That was apparently not the right answer, because Bones’s eyes grew even more protuberant than usual.

“Jim, your record says that your therapist completely cleared you for duty when you graduated. You told me you were fine. You’re telling me that you’ve been having consistent nightmares about Tarsus for over ten years after being cleared by a psychologist who wasn’t even licensed?”

“I---” Kirk’s throat closed. 

“Please tell me you at least understand that something isn’t right here.” He stared at Kirk, eyes wide and full of heartbreak. “Jim, if I had known how badly you were still suffering, I would have---”

“I’m fine,” Kirk whispered, and Bones inhaled to argue as his office door flew open. 

“Head trauma,” Christine Chapel said. “Your assistance, please, doctor.” Bones nodded to her and pointed at Kirk. 

“You. Stay. We are not done.” Then he followed Chapel across the Medbay to a prone red-shirted body laid out on a biobed. But before the turbodoor had the chance to swish shut, Kirk slipped out silently and left.

☆☆☆

Kirk ended up in the observatory with no clear memory of how he arrived there. The decorations had all vanished, leaving only the white and chrome interior of the room and the enormous blackness of space beyond. He was alone, and only his footsteps interrupted the comfortable hums and beeps of the ship around him. 

He crossed to the window and sat, staring out at the stars as they warped onward towards the starbase where they would pick up Pike and April. Fewer than ten days ago Pike had made one little suggestion about how Kirk might keep Spock on the ship, and somehow, after it had all started off so well, Kirk had ruined everything. He had fallen in love, or realized that he’d already been in it, and Spock had come to him offering himself in return, and he had pushed Spock away. Kirk’s palms burned as he remembered that he had genuinely shoved him; had laid his hands on him in violence for perhaps the first time in their entire friendship.  

And then he had raised his voice at Bones. He pressed his hands against his face as his guilt threatened to drown him. He was trying to protect his friends from the shadow of Tarsus, the shadow that lived over and in him, and all he had done was hurt them. He wanted to be a good captain and a good friend, and had tried so hard. But he had discovered today that it was impossible to be both of those and be himself at the same time. 

He had thought, when he was younger, that his career would be worth losing himself beneath his mask of perfection. And he loved his career: he was Starfleet’s youngest captain, adored by his crew, trusted by the brass to lead an unprecedented deep-space exploratory mission. But for the first time, as Spock’s stuttering confusion and Bones’s gruff questions echoed in his head, he questioned if it would ever be worth it again. 

There was the heart of it, the truth that had made it so easy to turn down the potential of any stranger on a starbase: he had never before minded hiding himself away because he had never before so wanted to be known. But now he wanted to be known. He wanted the comfort of Spock’s presence and touch when he was unsteady and Spock’s continued faith in his abilities and leadership, but there was no future that he could see that would allow him to have both.

A stubborn tear wormed its way from the corner of his eye and down his cheek, and he wiped it away angrily. He stared out the window, repeating his mantra in time with his heart rate, willing himself into stillness: I am the bulkhead. I am the bulkhead. I am the bulkhead. But in the space between one heartbeat and the next, something in his mind clicked. Everything fell silent.

Elise had taught him to do that. 

Elise, who had lied to him. 

Elise, who he had loved, who had been his primary support during his days at the Academy, who had perhaps never been a therapist at all, had taught him how to use a mantra to calm his racing heart and had drilled into him that he could only protect his crew if he never revealed any of the weak parts of himself. And Bones, his doctor, one of the smartest men he had ever known, had been horrified to know that.

He had trusted Elise. But he trusted Bones more. Kirk shoved himself to his feet and wiped his hands over his face once more, clearing away any evidence of stray tears. He might have irrevocably damaged his relationship with Spock and set the bloodhound of Bones’s medical mind on his own trail, but there was one person on the ship that he could talk to about Tarsus and all that came after without gagging. Someone who already lived in the shadow. There was no horrific secret to reveal to Kevin, because he had been there. Kevin had already broken the glass wall of silence between them; there was nothing to stop Kirk from talking to him now. 

“Computer, where is Lieutenant Kevin Riley?” 

“Lieutenant Riley is in his quarters.” 

Kirk set off at a run. 

☆☆☆

For one long second, Kevin didn’t answer. Kirk stood outside his door, debating the merits of ringing the chime again or just overriding the lock, when it slid open. Kevin was framed by the doorway, dressed in his pajamas, a holovid playing on the wall behind him. 

“Oh!” He stared at Kirk. “Captain, I’m sorry--- I’m off duty today, I wasn’t prepared---”

“I’m not here as your captain,” Kirk said quietly. He peered behind Kevin: though there was another bed, his roommate was not present. “Can I come in?” Kevin stood aside to let him through, and the door slid shut behind him. The dialogue of the holovid continued quietly until Kevin tapped his padd and it paused. On the screen, an enormous lizard attacked some large metropolitan city. The sudden silence was heavy. 

“How are you doing?” Kirk asked, after a moment of quiet.

“Fine. How are you?” The answer was so robotic, so automatic and familiar, that Kirk swore for a second that Kevin’s response had come out of his own mouth. 

“Fine,” Kirk said, and they were quiet again. Kevin wouldn’t meet his eyes; his gaze instead flickered over his room. It was not exactly to regulations, but, then again, the lieutenants didn’t have Janice Rand or one of her minions coming into their quarters to cite them for uncleanliness.

“Look, Kev, I’m sorry to have to do this. But I have a couple of questions for you about…” Kirk trailed off. He wouldn’t say the name. 

Kevin swallowed, and the knobby bump of his Adam’s apple bobbed. “But…” 

“I know. I’m sorry.” They were silent again. When Kevin had been little, he would never shut up. He would babble to whoever was listening, or sitting watch; they couldn’t take him out to hunt for food with the older kids because he was unable to hush himself. But this older Kevin had run out of words. Maybe he used them all up on Tarsus.  

“Did you see a therapist when you got to the Academy?” 

Kevin’s eyebrows pulled together. “Yes,” he said eventually. “I was assigned one. But I was cleared for duty when I graduated, captain, it’s in my---” 

“Kevin, stop. I’m not here because of your conduct. Who was your counselor?” 

“Some lady,” he said, scrunching his nose. The gesture was so familiar to Kirk, even after all this time, that it hurt. “Siobhan Murphy.” 

“Can I borrow your console?” 

“Sure,” Kevin said uneasily, and Kirk sat himself in Kevin’s desk chair. It was not as comfortable as his, and his console was smaller, but it accepted his credentials and booted up with only a slight wheezing. He accessed the Starfleet personnel log and searched for Siobhan Murphy. 

Nothing came up. 

“Are you sure, Kevin?” 

“Yeah,” Kevin said. He was leaning over Kirk’s shoulder now, peering at the logs with childlike curiosity. “It stuck with me because Siobhan is--- was--- a family name for me. We were both Irish.”

Kirk removed her last name and searched all personnel. There were a handful of Siobhans across all of Starfleet, but as Kirk slowly scrolled past each one Kevin shook his head. 

“She’s not there,” he said. “None of them were her. What’s this about, Jimmy?” 

Kirk spun in Kevin’s desk chair, running his finger along the desk. He met Kevin’s eyes and felt the same protective tug in his chest that had pulled him as a kid. He didn’t want to bring these memories back to the surface. What if Kevin had been coping just fine, and it was only Kirk who was still under the shadow?

But there were dark circles under Kevin’s eyes, and the arms that stuck out of his baggy shirt were too thin. The bones of his hands were too prominent, and all of the skin that Kirk could see was covered in a fine, thin layer of downy hair. He had not looked, properly looked, at Kevin since he had seen the name on the personnel list at the start of the five-year mission. Elise had said to stay away from the other survivors; she had said that they were doing just fine, that they wouldn’t want the reminder of what had happened. But Kirk was looking at him now, and he did not see someone who was doing just fine. 

Kirk turned back to the console and typed Elise’s name into the personnel file. He turned back to Kevin as her holo appeared. Kevin’s face slackened in shock, and the little piece of Kirk that had still hoped that Bones was wrong, that Elise was who he thought she was, shriveled and died. 

“That’s her,” Kevin said. “That’s Siobhan.” He looked back to Kirk. 

“Her name is Elise Darling,” Kirk said. “Probably. And she was my counselor too.” Kevin’s eyes flicked back to Elise’s picture. 

“Red shirt?”

“Yes,” Kirk said. 

“Is that… is that normal?” 

“No,” Kirk said. “It’s not.” Kevin’s eyes were wide with confusion, his mouth twitched to the side as he chewed on the inside of his lip. Kirk meant to explain that Elise was not who she said she was, that he was starting to think that they had been manipulated into silence, but instead what he said was: “Kevin, are you okay?”

Kevin’s eyebrows pulled together, and his mouth opened like he was going to respond before he stopped himself. “I’m fine.” 

Kirk stood, pushing the chair back under the desk, and took a step towards him. “Kevin, are you okay?” 

“I’m sorry, Jimmy,” Kevin said, and his face started to crumple. “I’m trying, god, I really am, but I just feel---” He ringed the fingers of one hand around his wrist, thumb and middle finger overlapping to the second knuckle, rubbing it anxiously. “I’m so sorry, Jimmy, I know what Siobhan said---” 

As Kevin, one of the children that Kirk had made himself responsible for, fought back tears, Kirk thought he understood why Bones had lost his composure earlier. 

“You don’t have to apologize to me for anything, Kevin. What did she say?” 

“She said that she would clear me for duty, send me to the Enterprise , as long as I promised not to talk about what all happened to us,” Kevin said, and his face grew red and splotchy. “She said it was to protect you, that telling people that we were both there would hurt your career.” 

A white roar rose in Kirk’s ears, and he was distantly aware that his hands were shaking. “This woman,” he said, gesturing behind him to Elise’s smiling face, “told you that she would only clear you for duty if you stopped talking about Tarsus? And she told you that it was for me?” 

Kevin nodded miserably, and the motion of his head tipped tears over his eyelashes and down his cheeks. Kirk stared at him in abject horror as Kevin sniffed hard.

“I’m sorry, Jimmy, I didn’t mean to---” 

“Hush,” Kirk said harshly. He grabbed Kevin’s wrist, and yanked him forward. Kevin stumbled forward, and Kirk swept him into a hug. Though they were older and changed, Kirk put his hand against the back of Kevin’s head like he had when they were little, and Kevin bowed his head against Kirk’s shoulder, pressing his face into Kirk’s neck. Through his thin sleep shirt Kirk felt the angry lines of Kevin’s shoulder blades and the ridges of his spinal column. 

Kirk could feel the tears soaking the neckline of his shirt, but he didn’t care. He held onto Kevin and squeezed until Kevin’s arms came up around his back and held onto him like a lifeline. As Kevin cried into his shoulder, Kirk told him everything that he knew: that Elise had told him he had to hide how Tarsus still affected him, how he had given up honesty in the name of being a good leader, and what Bones had said that morning. After a small eternity, Kevin pulled away and sniffed again. Kirk slid his hands to his shoulders and gave him a gentle shake, trying to keep the blinding rage from showing on his face. He had thought that he was protecting Kevin by staying away. But Kevin was one of his kids, and no one was going to hurt his kids and get away with it as long as he was alive.

“You don’t owe me any apologies,” he said. “But I promise you, I’m going to figure this out.” 

“I don’t understand. What would have been the point of keeping us quiet? It’s not like what happened was a secret. Starfleet was there.” Kevin turned, wiping his eyes on the hem of his t-shirt. 

“I don’t know,” Kirk admitted. “I only learned that she wasn’t Medical two days ago, and that she had given me bogus advice an hour ago.”

“What does Mr. Spock think?”

Kirk couldn’t stop himself from grimacing. Kevin, eyes wide, said, “He doesn’t know.” 

“I---,” Kirk said, and choked. 

“You have to tell him,” Kevin said. He sat on the edge of his bed, and Kirk came to sit beside him. Kevin leaned against him, resting his head on his shoulder, and it was easier to breathe when he was looking at the blank wall in front of him instead of Kevin’s face. 

“I don’t want to,” Kirk said. “I don’t want to tell anyone. If I had it my way, no one would ever know that I was there.” He felt the clench of panic around his heart. Kevin sat up, and when Kirk turned to meet his eyes Kevin was giving him a look that he couldn’t interpret. 

“Well, I for one am glad that you were there,” Kevin said. “Because I would be dead if you hadn’t been. And the others would be too.” He rapped his knuckles against Kirk’s knee. “Did you know that I requested the Enterprise because I knew that you would be here?” 

“No,” Kirk said, throat dry.

“Well, it’s true.” Kevin swallowed. “I thought that… if you were able to keep the five of us alive when you were just a kid, I wanted to know what you could do as the captain of a starship.” Kirk’s throat tightened, and he felt tears prick his own eyes. They sat in silence for a few moments. 

“I’m going to figure out why we were given a security officer as a therapist,” Kirk said, “but in the meantime, you need to go to Medbay.” Kevin immediately stiffened. “I’m ordering you to submit yourself for psychological evaluation.” 

“Jimmy---”

“Nope, I’m your captain now.” He wrapped his hand around Kevin’s wrist, and it felt like his bones would break in his grasp. “I am so sorry that I didn’t check in with you before. And you might be able to hide this in uniform. But you need medical attention---”

“I’m fine, captain---”

“You are not,” Kirk said, and his words reminded him so much of what Bones had said to him that morning that he had a dizzying sense of deja vu. “You’re suffering. I don’t know how you made it this long without getting a physical, but you’re going to Medbay to be checked over and you’re going to talk about whatever you need to talk about. Forget whatever Elise--- Siobhan--- said to you. I outrank her.” Kevin shrank into himself, and Kirk tightened his grasp on his wrist.

“Someone did a very good job making sure we never talked about what happened, and I intend to figure out why,” Kirk said. “I’ll keep you in the loop, and I might need to know more about what she said to you, but in the meantime, you need help.” Kevin deflated, and the curve of his spine highlighted the sickly lines of his body.

“I just,” he started, and his voice was raspy. “I needed one thing that I could control. After everything.” Kirk released Kevin’s wrist and wrapped his arm around his shoulder instead. 

“I get it,” he said. “I really do. But you can’t live like this forever.” Kevin sighed. 

“I know,” Kevin said. “I’m so damn tired.” 

“Why don’t you go get dressed,” Kirk said. “I’m messaging Medbay and letting them know you’re coming in. Today.” 

“Yes, sir,” Kevin said miserably, but he got up and vanished into the bathroom. Kirk pulled his padd out of his pocket and opened his messages with Bones. He had missed several messages over the past hour.

>TheRealMcCoy: Where the hell are you

>TheRealMcCoy: Jim, I’m serious

>TheRealMcCoy: Where are you

>JTK: I had to talk to someone

>JTK: But I’m sending him to you now

Bones responded immediately. 

>TheRealMcCoy: ?? 

>JTK: Crewman with severe psychological distress. He’ll tell you more when he gets there

Kevin reappeared from the bathroom in black slacks and a thick sweater. Without his arms showing and with the bulk of the sweater’s knit disguising the lines of his shoulders, it was easy to see how he had hidden the evidence of his anguish. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” 

“Thank you, but no,” Kevin said. “I would rather do this by myself, I think.” 

“McCoy will message me if you don’t show,” Kirk said, and Kevin blanched. 

“Understood,” he said, and he followed Kirk to the door. Before Kirk opened it, he turned and pulled Kevin into one more hug. Kevin’s arms came around him more readily this time. 

“Thanks, Jimmy,” Kevin mumbled into his shoulder. Kirk patted him on the back and released him. 

“We’ll figure this out, and things will get better,” Kirk said. “For both of us.” Kevin nodded, and when they entered the hallway Kirk split off to head to his own quarters and Kevin continued steadily to the turbolift that would take him down to Medbay. 

Kirk watched him go, and when the turbolift doors opened to receive him, Kevin turned around one more time. His eyes met Kirk’s, and without a second’s hesitation he snapped a salute. Then the doors closed in front of him and he vanished. 

☆☆☆

Kirk was in his quarters, hunched over his console with the programming manual for the personnel directory open on his desktop, when his padd buzzed again.

>TheRealMcCoy: Jesus christ 

>TheRealMcCoy: I need you to either update the automated med reminders programming or bring it up with the brass to fix

>TheRealMcCoy: He got away with skipping his physical for three years because he made a weekly appointment and then rescheduled it for the next week. For 150 weeks. 

>TheRealMcCoy: This cannot happen. Ever again.

So Kevin had made it to Medbay and actually followed his orders. That was good. Kirk turned back to his computer screen, scanning through the file to try and understand the platform that the directory was built on. If he knew how it was structured, it would be easier to understand where information could be hidden, inaccessible from the outside. He needed to know where Elise had been between her time on the U.S.S. Maddox and her retirement. He knew that she had been at Starfleet Academy for part of it; he had seen her on campus nearly every day for consecutive years. But Kevin hadn’t graduated until after Elise’s so-called retirement date, and she had been operating under a different name. 

There wasn’t a file for any Siobhan Murphy in the directory, but he wondered if it would be listed in Elise’s own profile as a separate posting. He tapped different commands into the directory, but no new information appeared. 

Kirk’s padd buzzed again. 

>TheRealMcCoy: He’s getting set up with one of the specialists and his replicator logs are going to be monitored. 

>TheRealMcCoy: You did good sending him here, Jim 

>TheRealMcCoy: Please respond or I’m coming to find you 

Kirk hastily grabbed for his padd. 

>JTK: In my quarters. He and I had the same therapist at the academy 

>JTK: trying to dig up more information on her now

>TheRealMcCoy: good god 

>TheRealMcCoy: ok 

>TheRealMcCoy: have you talked to spock?

Kirk flipped his padd facedown and shoved it to the corner of his desk. His burning guilt at how he had treated his friend--- his husband --- that morning had dulled into a heavy weight that settled in his chest, over his heart and lungs. There was no sign that Spock had returned to the quarters after his abrupt departure this morning, but every time Kirk heard footsteps pass by in the corridor outside his heart leapt. He didn’t even know what he would say if Spock walked in.

Good evening, husband. Sorry I pulled rank on you in our marital quarters because I panicked when you touched me. Have you considered not being a telepath?

Hello, holder of my heart. I think I might have been manipulated as a teenager and young adult and now I’m realizing I’ve been operating for years under a set of rules that no one else understands. 

Mr. Spock, quick question: have you ever thought about what it would have been like to be on Tarsus IV during the genocide? 

The last made his gorge rise in his throat. No. He wasn’t ready for that. He shoved his guilt from this morning and the mournful bleakness he felt when he looked at his empty couch into a box in the back of his mind and focused back on the personnel directory. If there was more information about Elise Darling, he was going to find it. 

Six hours and a replicated protein bar later, Kirk had whittled down the shape of the directory to the boundary around Elise’s real profile, but he was no closer to understanding how to breach it than he was before. He understood that there was a gap where there should have been information, and he could almost understand the infrastructure of the software around it, but he wasn’t able to follow any loose tangents into the information itself. He rubbed his aching eyes and dragged his hands down his face. He had to work tomorrow, and he needed sleep. His mind hurt, his heart hurt, and the silence in his quarters after a night of sleeping near Spock was deafening. 

He showered, brushed his teeth, and heard Scotty puttering around in the quarters that used to be Spock’s. Where was Spock sleeping tonight? Crashing on Uhura’s couch was the most logical option, but Kirk could easily see him avoiding any scrutiny that sleeping elsewhere would bring and spending the night working in his lab. 

He wanted to message Spock and ask him to come back, but shame stayed his hand. What if Spock said no? What if he didn’t respond? What if he did return, and demanded an explanation for Kirk’s behavior that Kirk wasn’t ready to give? Kirk ditched his padd on his desk and dressed in pajamas. He set his alarm and sat on the edge of his bed. His room felt too large without another body in it. 

His gaze caught on his blanket, folded neatly on the back of the couch. Spock had slept under it the night before. Kirk was across the room in a heartbeat, sweeping the blanket up and pressing it to his face. It was faint, but it was there--- the earthy, spicy scent that Kirk had long ago come to associate with Spock. He inhaled deeply. The smell was a comfort to him. Even as a small part of him berated himself for his behavior, he laid down on his couch and draped the blanket over his body.

“Computer, lights to zero,” he said, and he fell fitfully into sleep, curled in the space where Spock had been.

[amaiguri]

Wanna see the business side of story-based games?

Me! I want to! 👋 Hi, I'm Amaiguri. I'm a full time gamedev and I've released two games before and correctly predicted how much money I would make each time! Wow!

I've been considering converting the webfic I write into a story game of some kind -- a visual novel or a RPGmaker game or maybe even a walking sim? But I didn't know what I wanted to make!

This story has been THE STORY of my early adult life here -- it is SO important to me. So, while I'm a huge advocate of making whatever you want, I wanted to ensure whatever I put my effort into would be VAGUELY marketable. (Because, lemme tell you, webnovels are not marketable XD)

Before I dive in too deeply, **BIG DISCLAIMER**:

I am not a business person. I am using big, wide guestimates to make non-essential business decisions with myself. BUT I want to share my learnings with you. So, take everything I say with a grain of salt and JOIN ME on this journey:

Earlier this month, I made a post about wanting to make a visual novel. Specifically, a kinetic visual novel where you don't make choices and you just read basically. SO I've now done research into how well they sold. I used THIS website to determine how much money each of these games made (VERY loosely):

Juniper's Knot: ~$4k USD

Higurashi (The Whole Series): ~$300k USD (Averaging like 400 reviews per game and $50 for the whole bundle)

House in Fata Morgana: ~$1 million USD

I picked these out mostly because these are the small handful of kinetic novels I have actually heard about. I'm not saying there aren't other, more successful ones I haven't heard about but I figure, if I'm supposed to be representative of my target audience, I'm as good of a sample as any for this wild estimation.

Besides, Higurashi has a whole anime -- it is definitely fair to use that as an upper end -- and Juniper's Knot -- a tiny game no one has heard of -- as the lower end. (I mean, $0 is the lower end, but... you know...)

This paints a pretty stark picture, honestly. Like, this is looking at 6 to 8 years of work for... maybe a couple thousand for me? Realistically? Maybe up to $300k if I'm super lucky and go viral? And I'm not saying that isn't LIFE CHANGING money but like in the MOST MIRACULOUS scenario here, I am compensated less than my current salary for my current magnum opus. But realistically, I'm looking at maybe $1-4k if I get lucky. I'm not a horror-writer and I'm not a romance writer -- I will not have THAT feral of a fanbase XD And on top of all of that, I don't even play that many kinetic visual novels. I'm barely in my own target demo here!

Now, compare that to the numbers I ran on RPGmaker games where you just do narrative and there is very minimal gameplay:

Rakuen: 4000+ Reviews, over $100k in profits estimated

To the Moon: $8 Million in profit

A Bird Story: Definitely sold worse than To the Moon, was cheaper to make and cheaper to buy -- estimated at $397k

Wadanohara and the Great Blue Sea: Dunno cuz it's free BUT its manga adaptation has 267 reviews on Amazon -- so the creator COULD have made bank on the actual game

See how much higher those are? Even when they're not as well known? And sure, the bottom is still $0 ultimately but the upper limit, with the most successful of these titles (and incidentally, the video game that convinced me to get into Game Design) is much much higher.

"BUT BELLE! Laura Shigihara did the music on a lot of those! You don't have Laura Shigihara!"

Ok BET! I'll hire her! The base industry rate for music per minute is $100/min. Let's suppose now she charge 10x that, cuz she's famous -- $1k/minute of music. I get her to compose a 3 minute song for $3k BUT she also brings over... say... 5% of her audience to check out my game.

That's admittedly, a high conversion rate so we'll just take 5% of Rakuen. Now, I'm imagining I'd charge like $25/copy of my game because it's gonna be like 300k words -- people pay $25 for a book of that length, so if I have art and programming also, I can do that. With just her 5% of Rakuen reviewers (21 reviewers of her 4.3k), that's like $7k USD. So, she'd probably just pay for herself and then some.

And to top all this off: I'm back in the target demo. I am ABSOLUTELY the kind of person who will play a solodev's RPGmaker game and forgive all jank and flaws and lack of gameplay if the story, art, and music are good.

That is, of course, making the assumption that I'll make good music and art 🥺🥺🥺

Now obviously, all this is WILD guestimates so like. You shouldn't make business decisions off this. I'm barely making "business" decisions -- I'm making hobby decisions. I have a full time job and I intend to keep it. BUT I think it's pretty clear where the potential money might be for me -- RPGmaker games.

Eris (Blinking): Thank you for reading!

[bishie-haven]

Asmo Appreciation Week, Day 2: Best Cards, Part 1!

Welcome back, everyone!

So...Obey Me's cards, eh? Some are good, some are not-so-good, some send people into screaming frenzies, some send others into...other types of screaming frenzies.

When it comes to Asmo and his cards, I take it seriously. Since 2021, I've had a goal of collecting every card the game has released of him, and it's actually going pretty well. The same applies with Nightbringer; last night I put many stockpiled D-Energy cans to good use and grinded enough to get his UR+ achievable from the Hard Ruri Tunes missions!

Which leads me to today's topic: which of the lusty boy's cards do I think is the best?

It took so much strength to pick. And in the end, I couldn't choose just 5, just 7, or even just 10. Nope, I'm going all out and showing my TOP 20 cards! Because Tumblr has a limit on how many images can be used in a single post, today I'm going to be revealing the first half of the cards, from #20-#11, with the top 10 coming very soon.

A couple of things before I start. I did not include any of the NB-exclusive cards in this list, as those three I want to save for another day. And two, I am not basing my ranking on any of the Devilgrams attached to the cards, as some of them I have yet to obtain. I may mention them for some that I do own, but the basis of these ranking is on the art of the cards, the theming included, and meaningful context around its release. Lastly, all of the images here were found on the fandom's unofficial card-logging site, Karasu-OS.

Anyway, let's begin!

To start with, I have a couple of honorable mentions that just barely missed the cutoff:

HM 1: HLD, the New Dream Team! (Toys event SSR)

That event with the onesies was definitely one of the more chaotic ones, that's for sure. And while it's not one of my favorite sets, I always liked Asmo's pink bunny outfit. It's so floppy and derp that I can't help but smile.

HM 2: Memories and Pale Shades (Cursed Seed SSR)

This event...oh boy. Remember when I said that release context played a part in my ranking? This is one where it's a bit clear. The art and composition is beautiful, being fed a dango and admiring the blossoming trees, but the circumstances that this card came out in spoiled a bit of the joy it would normally have. Still, the positives still weighed out enough for it to land here with a good word.

Now then, on to the list!

#20: Party Hopping

It's cards like this that get the wheels in my brain turning. A funny thing about cards is that their image sometimes doesn't match the Devilgram attached or even the event or Nightmare entirely. Even without having the card in my possession (yet), cards like this let my imagination run wild in terms of what is happening in the image. Why is Asmo dressed like Little Red Riding Hood? Why is he crying? Did he come from a party? Did something happen before or after it? The card itself is simple, but allows for lots of mental creativity.

#19: Asmo Gives Back <3

This one unfortunately got held back by the initial design of the card. For some reason, that blue suit of his just irks me... But the unlocked DF version makes up for it in spades. For as much of a party animal Asmo is described to be, we don't see him much in any kind of club or bar setting with the works attached in art. This card remedied that, showing him flushed and happily drinking away, clothes rustled around and overall giving proof of a good time for his special day.

#18: Illuminating My Love

This is an example of simplicity reigning supreme. Both of the card versions don't have anything special with outfits, just casual and demon forms, but it's the actions that hit it in the feels for me. Small lights, whether it be from fairy lights or tiny candles, bring a sense of warmth to both of the card arts. And considering these were released for Devil Day '22, warmth and love are the perfect things to feel when it comes to these.

#17: Asmos and the Fox Mask?

Much like #19, this is one where one design makes up for another, but this time for a different reason. I'll admit I wasn't the biggest fan of the yokai-style theming the DF unlock was attached to, but that is mainly just personal preference. The initial art given though? AMAZING. This is the start of where theming starts to be a basis for why I like a card, and to start it off, I LOVE masquerade balls. And this be one of many cards you see where Asmo is wearing a dress, get used to it.

#16: The Annoying Influencer

Another type of simplistic card, but this one gets bonus points for bringing ALL the color, enough that some may find it a bit annoying (eh? get it? I'll stop). Another birthday card, it warms my heart whenever I see images of Asmo enjoying a treat or any food in general. One of the tropes thrown around a lot involves him going on diets often to keep his figure, so to see him openly enjoying snacks he likes (especially here, with his favorite Surprise Guest item!) will always make me just a bit happier.

#15: A Gorgeous Phantom Thief

There was a time when I adored the Phantom Thief and Detective trope in stories, a sort of cat-and-mouse game, if you will. Also usually having a Tuxedo Mask-esque aesthetic about them, it always felt like you were on the edge of your seat, waiting for what would happen next. And while this is another card that I don't own as of now, I can still imagine the picture in my head of this lovely man wanting to steal every rare diamond and gem in existence, but the one thing he can't seem to take so easily is your heart.

#14: Looking at Someone

WHY DID THIS CARD NIGHTMARE HAVE TO BE SO SHORT?! Outside of the screaming, this is one of the cards I would be ecstatic to own, if only the circumstances on its release weren't so daunting with no re-release in sight. But even so, it's another example of simplicity being all you need. Asmo surrounded one of his most iconic motifs, makeup as far as the eye can see with a relaxed look on his face is really all I need when it comes to this card.

#13: Asmo and a Treasure Chest

Both of these images, the themes, expressions..."shoot through my heart" indeed... While pirates aren't my favorite universe to dabble into (similar to yokai in terms of preference), the two art features given to this card of the same thing go beyond my choices and SLAY me. Double revolvers on the initial, and...THIS...on the DF unlock? Oh anyone in the three realms take me now!

#12: That Special Someone

Oh the nostalgia! Even if it's only 4 years ago, the initial set of cards will always be special to me, and this particular initial UR is no exception. It was definitely a tricky sucker to get, taking me almost THREE YEARS to get lucky in Chapter A, and it still remains part of some of my best teams to this day. And the theming gives another combination of fitting the character (you can't expect someone with their own private bathroom to NOT have a shot of themselves in the tub), and my own secret tastes (self-care and beauty elements are addictive to me).

#11: Catch the Lost Bunnies!

Rounding out the first half is the inverse of the following card. Instead of taking nearly three years, this sucker came home on a FREE single pull! I have never had better luck on that gacha since then, and I'm glad it came from this lovely card. Bunnies and rabbits are Asmo's secondary animal motif (the primary being scorpions), and combining this with the bunny boy event happening at the same time, it's just a celebration of two different kinds of cuties! I wanna cuddle them both!

And with that, I have to hold the breaks. But don't worry, soon we'll go through the second half, the top 10 of the bunch. Which cards can top these? Have any guesses?

[mediumsizedwildcat]

Fallen

originally posted Jul 9, 2022 on my deactivated blog (mediumsizedwildcat)

masterlist | stranger things m.list

a/n: first uploaded Eddie fic and it's an Upside Down drabble as if I don't have what feels like 500+ smut wips (/jokingly)

summary: college had ripped you from Eddie's arms before, however, when he found you, he didn't plan on allowing the Upside Down to let it do the same

cw: angst, fluff, reader-insert, no use of Y/N, pet names, cuddling with Eddie, Eddie taking care of you, dying of thirst and hunger is probably not medically accurate

Eddie Munson x reader | 800 words

*MDNI

— ☾ —

First it had been college that ripped you apart, made you move out from Hawkins and your parent’s. Worst of all, you had to leave Eddie behind.

You came home to surprise your family, but mostly you wanted to see him. So, your first stop was supposed to be Eddie’s trailer.

You were on your way over, when the earth started shaking. Suddenly, the street opened up beneath you, leaving you with nothing but the feeling of falling. Falling from high places in dreams was bad enough, but this, you were sure, wasn’t a dream. You hoped it was a nightmare because if it wasn’t, you were going to slam on the ground and probably die in the most painful way imaginable right now.

Just when the hairs on your back started to stand up and you felt something behind you, everything turned black.

The first few days in this warped version of Hawkins were terrifying. You didn’t find anything you could eat, let alone drink, and every time you fell asleep, you were plagued with nightmares. They got worse the more time went by, most of them showed you what you were sure was a lie: Eddie’s death.

After a week, you were barely awake, thirst and hunger tearing at your life. However, there was something about this place that didn’t let you die. As if it wanted you alive.

But what for? You had seen the things lurking in the dark, you had seen the people on the other side of the fissures in the sky, you had screamed at them for help and they didn’t hear you. At least that’s what you chose to believe, it felt better than thinking that they ignored your cries for help.

What finally woke you up, though, wasn’t the dark, the tentacles, the monsters, or the fissures. It was the crackling of a fire, the smell of burning wood and its smoke.

Your eyes fluttered open and if you weren’t so damn tired, your body would’ve switched into fight or flight. When you spotted the figure sat by the fire, stoking it, your brain released a tiny bit of adrenaline, enough to shock you awake and get you to your feet.

You half-expected the figure to jump at the sudden sound, but instead its head turned slowly, until it was facing you. That was when the adrenaline passed and you were sure it was a hallucination.

“You’re awake,” he smiled gently, big brown eyes fixated on you. But he didn’t move any further, and you thought maybe he’d fade away if he did.

So you sat back down and hugged yourself, shivering at the cold, or perhaps out of fatigue, you didn’t know. You sighed, mumbling your words as you couldn’t muster the strength to be any louder. “Is this another kind of torture?”

Eddie frowned, “He’s torturing you?”

“Shouldn’t you know?” You took a deep breath, eyes falling close, “You’re probably one of his…”

Eddie crawled over to you when you trailed off and started cradling you, one hand rummaging through a duffel bag. He pulled out a bottle of water, opened it and sat it on your lips. “Drink,” he instructed softly.

Though you were too weak to even hold the bottle, as soon as the water seeped past your lips, your body started lapping it up, acting as though the water would vanish any second. Instead, Eddie opened a second bottle and held it for you, too, until he was sure you had enough. Still cradling you, he pulled you close enough to tug his leather jacket around you.

You nuzzled your face into his chest, mumbled a thank you and fell asleep again.

This time when you woke up, you heard a steady heartbeat and had your arms wrapped around a torso, someone’s breath hitting your head. You pulled back a little, straightened your back out and gasped when you recognized him.

“Eds,” you muttered, eyes welling up.

The metalhead stirred, eyes blinking open, and he smiled gently. “Hey there, sleepyhead,” he whispered, a rasp in his voice.

“How did you-? What are you-? How-?” You sighed and shook your head, too overwhelmed and tired to form a full sentence.

“What? What is it?” He straightened out, too, hands landing on your face, searching for a clue of what could be wrong.

When your stomach murred, he almost burst into laughter. It was the most beautiful thing you had witnessed in days, a light in this dark, warped world. As usual, his smile made you smile and you felt some weight fading from your heart.

“Don’t worry,” Eddie shifted around on the ground so he could keep holding you. “I found some stuff we can heat up for you to eat. I’ll take care of you.”

— ☾ —

don't forget to reblog to support writers & artists

[alexanicholsauthor]

One of the weirdest days ever…

My life is usually boring. I write, do my caregiver duties, and then fall back on some magazines, novels, manga, anime, movies, video games, or YouTube surfing. You know, the usual. I mostly stay inside these days (I’m basically one slap away from being a full-on hikikomori), as there isn’t much out there that’s interesting enough to make me venture out of my little safety bubble. Especially with all these shootings and crap going on.

Sometimes, however, I have to leave my bubble, so my Baby Squirrel and I hiss at the daylight and shakily make our way to wherever we have to go, quickly finish our business, then scuttle back to our lair as fast as our little furry feet can take us. Usually. Then there are some days that are so bizarre that they kind of make you glad you left the house for a change. Like the other day, when it seemed like there was so much weirdness building up and waiting to be released the second we left our bubble.

Our mission was simple: drop some packages off at the post office. Simple, right? Well…

There is a DART train we usually get on to go to Downtown Dallas that pretty much takes us straight to the post office, and it’s fairly close to where my baby squirrel lives. We began boarding the train, talking about what game we would play when we returned, when we stopped dead in our tracks as we saw a woman ¾ naked and peeing enthusiastically. In the train. She was on the other end of the boarding area about five feet away, so we could still board, but that didn’t stop her from peeing and stumbling about while she did so. The other passengers seemed to be ignoring her, though for the life of me, I have no idea how.

Several stops later some police officers came on the train and escorted her out, but not before she (for some reason) came wobbling towards me with wide eyes and a frightened look like I was going to save her or something. I wasn’t; I didn’t. The train reeked the entire rest of the way, which was a good half hour…

:shudder:

The only other interesting thing that happened on the train was this woman walking past me wearing a bandana that covered her entire head. Like, you couldn’t even see any of her forehead, face, or anything. It was all covered. I mean, I’m all for masking up in close proximity or around people of dubious hygiene and such – or if you have any sort of communicable disease – but the entire head? That was a first. I don’t even know how she could see through that motherfucker!

It only gets weirder, y’all…

So we finally got to the post office, right? Literally the first thing we hear is this old man arguing with the receptionist about taking his package, yelling at the top of his lungs that just because he has COVID doesn’t mean he can’t mail things out. He was completely unmasked, mind you, and the receptionist seemed about three seconds away from decking him.

The only words I really heard at first was that he had COVID, so I immediately took my baby squirrel and got far away from him. She, as a cancer survivor who isn’t entirely in the clear yet, does not need her compromised immune system exposed to someone walking around with COVID – especially someone with no mask on. So we waited, and I barely blinked as I watched this dude, but finally he took his package and left the building, obviously disgusted.

Some people just… I don’t know. The way they think just baffles me…

Anyway, fast forward through a myriad of tiny events to the end of the day, and just when I thought things couldn’t get any stranger, we decided to call it a night and go to bed. As we often do before sleeping, we turned on TikTok to entertain ourselves.

It was all fairly normal until we decided to watch one more video and then call it a night.

That video? You’re going to think I’m lying, but I’m honestly not: it was of a real-life pigeon body slamming a real-life kitten and then repeatedly wing-slapping it. All we could do was look at each other and nearly die from laughing.

It was the perfect punctuation for our bizarre day…

[silverdelirium]

𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒 | 𝐍.𝐋

SUMMARY ➠ nikolai fucks you against the spinning wheel’s walls

WARNINGS ➠ oral (male receiving), sexual tension at the start, dirty talk, nicknames, tiny bit of degrading, sex from the back in front of a window.

WORD COUNT ➠ 1.5k

A/N ➠ if you haven’t read the books, the spinning wheel is basically a big house on a mountain that has glass walls

———

the clock read 1:23 A.M

and all you could focus on was the blonde who took strides closer to you.

he was wearing pijamas, you noticed. probably couldn’t sleep either.

“evening, y/l/n” he saluted. coming to a halt next to you, yet his line of sight was focused on the panorama the big glass windows gave you.

you didn’t respond. instead, you acknowledged him with a small nod that you could only hope he had caught with the corner of his eye.

your lack of communication didn’t stop him from making conversation.

“couldn’t sleep either?”

“no”

he hummed in understanding, letting his neck crane to the side so he was looking in your direction.

nikolai let his eyes travel from your sleep deprived features to your silk nightgown that stopped at mid-thigh. his gaze faltered when he reached your chest, pebbled nipples making blood rush to his groin.

“how do you like the view?” he asked, his eyes still on you.

“it’s nice” you sighed, turning your head to him; unconsciously sinking your teeth on your lower lip cushion.

the blonde swallowed thickly at the action, trying to shake off the thoughts that rushed through his mind— all including you. naked— “you don’t plan on going back to sleep” it was an observation, not a question.

“i don’t” a pause, and a step forward “think so. you?”

another step, this one came from him though, “maybe, i just have lots of restored energy” he responded, a wink sent in your direction as he watched your brows shoot up slightly at the innuendo.

about two more steps.

“any suggestions on how to get rid of it?” his voice dropped an octave, the fabric of his trousers tightening around his crotch as you stood about eight inches apart.

you shrugged, “i may have some ideas”.

nikolai took the last step forward.

the lip-lock was languid and heated; the desire in the pit of your stomach only intensifying more and more with each roam of his hands down your body.

“you don’t know how many times i’ve dreamt about this” he groaned, large palms kneading at your bum as he walked you slowly but surely to the same glass wall you were both just admiring a few moments ago.

nikolai’s thigh found it’s way between your legs, feeling the heat of your sopping core rub itself on his leg “i’m gonna fuck you so hard you won’t be able to sit on that cunt for the rest of the week”

a moan sounded, and you didn’t even realize it came from you until you saw him snickering to himself, his forehead on yours as he brought your palm to rub on his erection.

“this is all yours for tonight, precious”

the back of your neck grew hot as you stood nose to nose with nikolai, sharing the same hot breath.

you gave him one last peck before you were sinking to your knees, eye contact still intact even though his muscles twitched with expectation.

“you gonna suck my cock now, angel?” he asked yet there was a slight quiver to his voice when you dragged his pants down, letting his engorging cock out.

you nodded your head rapidly, wasting zero time and wrapping your hand at the base of his length, pumping him slowly.

his next words almost had you coming on the spot, “well you best make it sloppy, princess. because it’s the only lubrication you’ll get” a whine left your lips “but i bet that cunt can provide us enough lube”.

he definitely had a way with his words. your breathing was already heavy and he barely touched you.

his breathing pattern shook when you enveloped your lips around his sensitive tip, making him hiss and throw his head back, sending a wave of euphoria to your dripping cunt as you took in the way his throat bobbed with his gulp and how the vein running down the side of his neck only made him more attractive.

his hand fisted in your hair, giving the locks a small tug as a silent plea for you to take more of him in.

you complied, letting your tongue run up and down the girth as he slowly sunk more of his rigid cock into your warm mouth.

“taking me so fucking me well” he panted, “i’m gonna flood your pretty throat with my cum, sweetie”

those were the last words to hit your ears before your eyes rolled to the back of your head, your throat being absolutely demolished by the male’s— unexpectedly— fast thrusts.

“saints— fuck!” you heard him grunt; though his voice seemed far away as your jaw ached and mind went hazy, the neglected and profound ache between your thighs increasing by the second at the sound of his praises and moans.

“oh god you have the best fucking mouth ever” he choked out, thrusts sloppy and deep as his hips stuttered before he was gritting his teeth, doing his best to suppress the loud cry of your name as spurts of cum shot down your throat.

the taste made you cringe slightly but you did your best to swallow everything, his cock partially exiting your sore mouth. “if your mouth was that good i can just imagine how well your little cunt will take me” he praised, hooded eyes focused on your rising form as he let his hands tug at your straps.

his gaze held enraptured hunger as you freed yourself from the silky nightwear, butterflies erupting in your core as he eyed your flesh with lust.

“there’s no way i’ve been missing on all of this, dove. you’ve been basically starving me” he commented, a giggle erupting from you as he dived his head down on your neck.

a catch of breath came from you as he nipped on your sweet spot, small whimpers hitting nikolai’s ears.

he kissed and licked, sometimes even grazed his teeth, along your neck. your pussy clenching around nothing as he continuously teased you.

“please” you croaked “i need it, so fucking bad”.

“need what, precious? use your big girl words for me” he winded, trapping you against the cold glass and his body.

you swallowed timidly, “your— your cock, i want it”

the corners of his lips twitched, along with his cock “where baby? in your mouth again or in that eager cunt of yours?”

his words almost made your legs shake.

“my… cunt, please” you whined.

nikolai gave an approving nod before turning you around softly, now pressing your breasts against the windows as your breath fogged it.

he pressed down on your lower back, bringing you to a small arch.

you felt him run his hands down your body, from your shoulders blades to the swell of your ass. his fingers tugged at the soaked cloth that covered your pussy, slowly moving it to the side and revealing your wet canal.

“my, my, you have the pretties pussy ever, can’t wait to bury myself balls deep in it” he praised, bringing the dampened material down.

your heart thumped against your ribcage as you felt his swollen head kiss at your slit, teasing once again.

“nikolai ple—” your own intake of air cut you off, the unexpected thrust making your thighs shudder.

you heard him release a few groans of his own as he let you accommodate to his size, giving small and slow thrusts into your gushing cunt.

“do you like that? you like it when i fill you up to the fucking brim with my cock?”

you whimpered, rocking yourself back on his cock as he sped up his pace, what were once distressing thrusts turned into delightful ones.

your wails resonated through the room, as well as the wet sounds of skin slapping from where your bodies connected.

“nikolai, don’t stop please. don’t fucking stop” you moaned, slamming your palm against the hazed glass.

“sound so fucking hot when you moan my name like that, like a little whore— shit” you didn’t have to look back at him to know that his head was thrown back and mouth was agape, the vice grip he had on your hip told you enough.

your clit throbbed almost agonizingly before the blonde had snaked a hand around your waist, the pad of his fingers soothing the neglected bud.

he let his eyes travel from your messy hair, to your bouncing ass, to his cock covered in a ring of your arousal at the base, and to your jiggling legs that struggled to hold you up.

“the way you shiver, y/n— fuck it makes me wanna wreck you to no end” he confessed, thrusting deeper and prodding at your g-spot.

“nikolai fuck, i’m gonna cum!”

“do it, princess, cum around my cock like a good slut” he encouraged, slamming a hand down on your ass before stilling his hips, bottomed out, and cumming deep inside you.

pleasure wracked through your body like no other, your vision going blurry as pulsated around him. your, now creamed, walls fluttering with the intensity of the orgasm.

it stayed silent except for your ragged breathing and the sound of dripping to the floor for a few seconds.

but nikolai broke it first, “turn around, i wanna watch your face when you take my cock this time”

———

[follow my 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠 and turn on notifications to know whenever i post a fic!]

🏷: @alic3cullenswife @randomstufflol29 @akraziia @arcaneofdawn @selenesheart

[yesimwriting]

To Be Alone

VAGUE SPOILER WARNING FOR SHADOW AND BONE BOOK SERIES-- I try hard not to mention why the Darkling/General Kirigan is the bad guy so that I don’t spoil anything,, but the reader finds out that he lies about his identity and that he’s super sketchy/not a good guy (again,, I avoided as many specifics as possible to keep it from being spoiler-y)

Warnings: lowkey manipulation, kissing/makeout, slight fingering

A/n y’all drove me to this lol,, pls be nice!! This is the closest to full on smut I’ve ever written!! Ahh I’m lowkey scared to post

Summary: the reader finds out something about the Darkling/General Kirigan, he finds a way to convince her to stay 

--

No amount of evidence will ever be enough to convince me fully. A part of me will always hold onto unjustifiable doubt because a part of me hopes that if I hold onto the lies tight enough they’ll turn into the truth. But that’s not how the world works. 

General Kirigan. Ravka put its faith in him. I put my faith in him. I did more than that. I pushed aside my reservations and doubt in order to try and comfort him when he spoke of loneliness. Was all that a lie as well? 

No. I can’t afford to think of the emotional side of it all, because if I do I may find myself incapable of moving from this spot. I don’t have time to reflect on it all, to try and unravel hopeful lies and manipulative truths. That can be done when I’m not here. If I stay here, he’ll know I know and he’ll stop me from...what? What am I supposed to do next? I could find someone with some level of power to warn. 

“There you are.” Kirigan. I’m turned towards the window, not facing him, but there is no weariness or malice in his voice. He has no reason to suspect my suspicion. “Are you unwell?” 

Calm. I need to pass as calm. Not turning, I force myself to ignore the endearing hint of concern in his voice. “No.” I can hear his measured footsteps. “Why would you think that?” 

“I haven’t seen you all day,” he’s directly behind me now. If I turn, I’ll practically be against his chest. “And you didn’t come see me last night.” 

Oh. I knew it was a mistake to begin to pull on such a small thread so close to when he expected to see me, but it kept gnawing on me. That doubt. That tiny thing I couldn’t ever let go off. “I fell asleep.” No--I cringe at my impulsive response. He knows how difficult it is for me to fall asleep. “Yesterday was just really...draining.” 

In an easy movement, he places his hand on my shoulder. It’s a silent request for me to turn. Exhaling, I obey. Why? I could lie to myself and say that I’m listening to him in order to kill his suspicions, but the effect he has on me is undeniable. Even before touching each other became a casual thing on his part, my body wanted to react to him. 

He’s quick to cup my face, tilting my chin up slightly so that I can’t avoid his gaze. “What troubles you, little dove?” A nickname for when he’s feeling particularly gentle. Thoughts of the evil he has to be twist my stomach as my face flushes. Kirigan’s thumb brushes over the corner of my bottom lip, stalling as I fight the urge to melt into the contact. I meet his tense gaze cautiously. “You said nothing could make you look at me differently.” No. There’s no way he figured out my change with one look alone. I’ll deny it. I’ll do what I need to do to be convincing, and then I’ll manage to escape. His grip on my shoulder tightens. “Don’t you dare lie to me again.” 

The urge to snap and point out the sick irony of him telling me not to lie at him almost forces me to break. His gaze starts to shift away from me--towards the half packed escape bag I’d been in the middle of constructing. I stretch my arms forward, desperate to keep his gaze on me and away from what I can’t explain. 

Kirigan’s free hand moves to pull my hand off of his cheek, but he pauses, eyes shutting in peaceful contentment. “What do you know?” 

I expected his words to be angry, to border on violent...but he just sounds tired. Please, Saints, let me be wrong. “Is there anything to know?” The only reaction I get is the slightest stall of his breathing. “You said you didn’t want to be alone anymo--” 

“I don’t.” The harshness of his words almost coax a small flinch from me. 

Swallowing back the knot in my stomach, I exhale slowly. “A part of not being alone is being honest.” 

His eyes finally open. I don’t dare move as he moves my hand off of his cheek so that he can brush his lips against my knuckles. I suppress an embarrassing shudder. “You wouldn’t have stayed--if you knew you wouldn’t ha--” 

No denial. I can’t--I can’t do this. “You know what the worst part is?” I can’t believe I’m about to say this. I can’t believe it’s true. “I might have.” Those words break something in me as I force myself away from him. The lack of contact leaves me more frozen than ever. “I might have! I might have been able to bear all the monstrous things you’ve done if you had just--” 

“What?!” He meets my outburst with one of equal power. “You might have stayed regardless?” The way he scoffs leaves me feeling like a wandering child. “You might have still looked at me like I hung the stars in the sky instead of like I’m the darkness they fight against?” I stay silent as he steps forward, quick to hold my chin in place with his long fingers. “I couldn’t risk you on possibility.” Kirigan’s gaze is so intense, a part of me is surprised that shadows don’t come at me--drowning me in darkness and him. “And don’t think me foolish enough to believe that someone like you would understand that I have to do what I’m doing--” 

“Have to?” No--how did I almost let him lure me back in so easily. I pull myself away, approaching my open wardrobe. “That’s not past tense.” He’s still--he’s still actively hurting people. Why had I been so stupidly naive to think that maybe this was all history? “I--I can’t do this.” 

Each step towards the exit of the room chips away at a piece of my soul. “You’re not walking away from me,” his strong grip is on my arm in a sharp instinct, “I won’t--I can’t be alone again.” 

I swallow back the lump of emotion in my throat. “You already are.” 

His eyes are pleading, pools of frightened adoration. “No--no,” he steps towards me, not releasing his grip on my arm, “You’re hurt that I lied, but now I’ll never have to lie to you again.” I push against his grip. Kirigan doesn’t release me. “Y/n,” my name is a lament from his lips, “Please.” 

My eyes round out as my heart leaps into my chest. “I used to think that you were only touched by the darkness, but now I’m not sure you can tell where the darkness ends and you begin.” His grip just barely falters. Maybe it’s acceptance. 

I shift weakly, a softer attempt to escape. His grip tightens even more than before as he tugs me forward. The reminder of his physical strength leaves me frozen in shock. I can’t read his expression, but something about him has darkened. When I don’t pull away again, his thumb brushes up and down my forearm. The silkiness of his touch is warm temptation. I inhale slowly as he moves his other arm in order to touch my shoulder. The contact is almost shy. 

“Kirigan,” my voice betrays me, breaking as his fingers trace down my collar, “What--what are you doing?” 

He tilts his head, taking in the way his touch rids my body of fight. “Nothing, really.” His voice is low, supple in its assuredness. “You’re the only person who has ever seen me--and for you to leave me after that.” 

“No,” I try to step back, but my body freezes as he toys with the collar of my dress, “What I saw--what I found out--that wasn’t you.” 

“It’s who I have to make myself be,” he whispers, “I’m doing what needs to be done.” 

“That logic can earn you a lot,” my words are careful, “But it cannot earn you me.” 

His hand brushes past my neck, finding the root of my hair. Kirigan pulls on it slightly, forcing me to expose my lower jaw and neck. I’m still as he leans forward, warm breath fanning across my skin. I fight against a shiver in vain as his lips brush down my skin, only stopping as he nips the base of my neck. I can’t help the small sound of surprise that escapes me. 

“Are you sure about that?” Blood rushes to my face, motivated by both embarrassment and something else. “Little dove, don’t ruin us.” His touch is warm, but his words leave me with an uncomfortable chill. In an attempt to escape the coldness, I half-press myself into the trail of soft and desperate kisses he’s leaving down my neck.

Kirigan pauses, exhaling slowly, and I feel some mental strength return to me. “There can’t be an us--not like this.” 

“Y/n.” He never uses my name. “You are the only light I know.” His words steal something from me as he pulls away enough to look me in the eyes. “I can’t handle the weight of solitude anymore--it’s worse than the dark.”

 I am unflinching, watching him with a markman’s care. Kirigan takes my silence as a positive. I don’t move as his gaze drops to my lips before he presses his own together. I don’t move as he destroys the distance between us like it’s some type of unbearable weight. His lips meet mine with enough force to bruise my face. The surprise of it gives him the chance to coax my lips into parting as his hands move to either side of my face. My body reacts without my permission, letting him deepen the kiss. Every time I find some kind of free will, Kirigan pushes it away with some kind of tactful lull of his tongue. Keeping his control, Kirigan ends the kiss by grazing sharp teeth against my bottom lip. 

I’m left panting. “You’re--you lied, Kirigan--I--” 

“You told me once you could never see me as a monster.”

“I said that to a version of you that technically doesn’t exist.” 

The grief in my chest and desire in my stomach twist in a nauseating way. Kirigan’s eyes watch me patiently, a pain similar to my own reflected in them. “Who I am when I’m with you is less fictitious than any identity I’ve ever given myself.”

The vulnerability in his voice is as alluring and distracting as the kiss. I find myself thinking of the warmth of his mouth against my skin. He had kissed me like the cure for ancient solitude could come from me. I think he had a point, because now that he’s not touching me in that way I feel the familiar tugs of cold emptiness. 

“I don’t understa--” My words are cut off by his lips brushing against mine. 

His touch is soft, but it’s far from shy as he draws out the kiss. It’s an attempt to keep me on edge, to keep me wanting him enough to push past my doubts. “Y/n,” there’s a reverent quality to his voice, “I--” Kirigan grabs the collar of my dress, pulling me to him sharply. His kiss conveys things that neither of us truly understand. “Don’t go.” 

I don’t want to. The realization is a cruel wave crashing against my chest. “You lie to everyone, you lie to me--you--you hurt and destroy and I--” One of his hands brushes against the hem of my dress. “What are you,” the words are supposed to be sharp, but my resolve melts as his hand presses firmly against my thigh, “Doing?” 

“You know me,” he draws out each word as his fingers graze towards the inside of my thighs. The cool metal of his rings are practically ice against my flushed skin. “Little dove, trust me.” 

My nails dig into my palms as I try to ignore what he’s doing. “I did and you betrayed me.” 

“I couldn’t lose you,” he whispers, thumb inching up my inner thigh.

I press my lips together, fighting against a natural reaction. “You did lose me.” 

Kirigan’s eyes darken as his grip on my thigh tightens. “We’ll move past this.” He’s both pleading and assured. “I think I know how to make it up to you.” He trails his hand up my thigh swiftly, stopping with his hand on my lower hip. Shamelessly, he toys with the hem of my underwear. “The only thing that’s really changed is that now I’m touching you like this.” 

The only thing I can do is gape at him. He’s a villain, his hands are coated in unnecessarily spilled blood, and I am helpless against his slightest touch. I should try pushing him away or at the very least resist his blatant advantages. His fingers brush down my underwear, stopping at a growing wet spot. The knowing look he gives me burns my core. I try to keep my expression hard in a final form of protest, but when he presses his pointer finger against me all the resolve in me is shattered. 

My eyebrows draw together as a small sound escapes me, “Kirigan.” I can’t tell if it’s praise or a warning. 

He pauses, hand retracting slightly at my whining. “Y/n,” his other hand cups my cheek. I lean into the contact without permission from my body. “There is only one name that I have not given myself and only one name I want to hear you breathe like that.” His thumb traces my lips softly. I don’t move as he leans forward, turning his lips towards my ear. 

“Aleksander.” His name is nothing more than a breath, a stolen heartbeat on his lips. 

He presses his fingers against where I’m the weakest again. My hips grind forward instinctually, desperate for more contact as he kisses the top of my jaw. 

“Aleksander.” The name escapes me in the form of a broken moan. Speaking it feels more intimate than the way he’s touching me. 

There’s the slightest pause in his consuming actions. “Again,” he breathes, “Say my name again.” His request is so soft it feels like he’s more at my mercy than I am at his. 

My eyes shut as his teeth graze my neck. “Aleksander.” At the sound of his name, his teeth brush against my skin harder than ever. 

When he starts to pull away, I reach out desperately, grabbing his kefta. “I thought you wanted to leave, little dove.” 

No. No. He is not going to get me to agree to stay by giving me something as intimate as his original name and by denying me his touch. “Please.” 

He reaches for my hand, pulling it off of him cruelly. “Do you want to stay with me?” 

I know which answer will get me what I really want, but I’m not sure which answer is true. Do I want to stay with him? Even after knowing what he’s done? “I don’t want to leave you.” The vulnerability of the statement cracks at my heart. He turns away from me in order to face the wall. I take a tentative step towards. “But I’m not sure what I want matters.” 

In one quick motion, he’s yanking more forward and pressing me into the wall. “Of course desire matters,” his body is pressed against mine almost entirely, “It means something.” He brushes his knuckles against my cheek. “It means you could choose me.” 

What could I say to that? I part my lips to speak but he silences me by pressing his lips against my jaw. I offer no protest as he starts touching me the way he did earlier. I’m more desperate now, more needy and okay with that. His fingers slip past my underwear testingly, hesitating before finally entering me slowly. 

“Aleksander,” my voice is so needy I’m not sure it’s my own. 

“I want you to say my name like that again,” he whispers, kissing down my collarbone as he begins to press his fingers in and out of me faster, “And I want you to say my name casually,” his pace doesn’t slow, even when I begin to let out indistinguishable whines, “And I want you to say my name while you’re falling asleep,” his touch becomes more aggressive as his words become more sincere, “And I want you to say my name every other way there is to say it.” 

The bundle of nerves in the pit of my stomach grows until there’s nothing else for me to hold onto. I finish with a sharp gasp. The feeling of euphoria is only intensified as Aleksander begins to kiss up my jaw before finally pressing our lips together. 

I break the kiss first, desperate to breathe. Have my legs been so shaky this entire time? Aleksander lets me recover, resting his head against my forehead. “I’m tired of being alone.” 

I imagine all the foul acts he’s committed and all the bad he wants to bring. I picture all the innocent blood he’s spilled. I see all of it--every horror and dark deed he’s ever committed. But I cannot see me leaving him. Maybe that makes me a monster, maybe that makes me an idiot...but I can’t do it. 

Slowly, I move to drape my arms over his back in a loose hug. “You’re not alone, Aleksander.” I’m not sure what that signifies, but I know it’s true. There has to be good in him. No one capable of such warmth can be pure evil. “I choose you.” 

[obeiii-mee]

Can I angst for Mammon where he is in a really bad mood and his brothers are at it again calling him names. And already ask them kindly to leave him alone but they keep at it. And Levi says something and it's the last straw. The air around them get cold for a moment as he slowly looks up and he flat out threatens them to shut up before he puts them back into there place with a really dark and threatening voice, before leaving. And the look could rival Satan's or even Lucifers glare.

I think Mammon takes the abuse of his brothers but sometimes he isn't in the mood and want a little peace and it is very very rare for him to get pissed

Like he's the kind of person who would yell when he's upset but when he's down right pissed it's like really fucking scary

People forget that as much as he lets his brothers push him around he is still the second oldest and is powerful so 😬

Brothers+ undateables reaction

Mammon snaps:

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This is something I’ve mentioned in previous posts, but I basically second everything you said. I believe that Mammon dislikes getting into confrontations but isn’t by any means weak or stupid. He is the second eldest. However he is also, arguably, the one with the most self control out of them all. He has an overwhelming amount of patience when it comes to his siblings and I like to think he puts up with all of their insults because he loves them. Then again, it’s very possible for him to go berserk after years worth of build up.

Thanks for the request!!! I had a bit of trouble at first because I didn’t know how I was going to format it but I like the way it turned out so I hope you do too. Uhh also I reached my word limit writing this so I couldn’t include Simon, Luke and Solomon. I do plan on writing for them as well but at this point I’m just trying to get this done. Let me know if I made any grammatical errors! I double check my writing all the time but sometimes mistakes got over my head! The undateables are short because honestly I view the brothers as the ones who will suffer the most out of everyone. I hope you enjoy reading it anyway!!

•Characters: Lucifer, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub, Belphagour, Diavolo, Barbatos.

⚠️Warnings: Cursing, mentions of blood & gore and that’s about it.

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For the past few months, Lord Diavolo’s pleasure of hosting parties and inviting people over had become more and more noticeable. It was pretty obvious that the Prince was lonely, isolating himself from others due to the responsibilities he has as the heir to the throne and a leader in the making. Attending his gatherings seemed like a down right chore for most of the brothers but you never had any problem tagging along. Besides, it felt nice knowing he seemed you worthy of coming to such important meetings. Your seven demons were, of course, also invited and per Lucifer’s orders, they all got cleaned up and dressed in fancy clothing to impress the regals prancing about the castle. Though the outfits themselves came with their own set of problems. Levi’s was way too tight; the collar seemed to annoy him more than anything else, judging by the patches of red skin on his neck. Satan accidentally ripped one of the buttons from his jacket off in a fit of rage earlier that day and was now silently fuming while poking his finger through the hole he made. Even Asmo spilled some water on his shirt before they arrived, ruining his pretty pink suit! Not to mention Beel was munching on his tie, having last eaten about 15 minutes beforehand. Lucifer pulled it out of his mouth and scowled at the saliva stains that were left behind. Safe to say they were all in a miserable mood to begin with.

“I expect all of you to behave in a respectable manner,” Lucifer flicked Belphie on the back of the head just as he began dozing off, making the youngest growl at him. He shot Mammon an irritated look “I’m especially talking to you Mammon. Don’t try to steal anything or I’ll cut your hands off.”

“I told ya big bro, ya don’t have to worry about me! I’ll be a golden child today! Promise!” Mammon held up his pinky as if he was committing to some kind of oath. The eldest darkened his glare and opened his mouth to say something else, but you interrupted in hopes of avoiding any bickering that might’ve followed.

“Look, there’s our table! Let’s go sit down. Lord Diavolo’s speech is going to start any minute now.”

Beel leaped at the table as soon as he sniffed out the appetisers, which were neatly arranged on the expensive tablecloth, shoving at least half of them in his mouth by the time the rest of you caught up with him. Having been seated, you quickly glanced around the room in hopes of spotting Diavolo. You bumped into Solomon and the angels before entering the castle, chit chatting with them for a while about the event. Even now, Luke was excitedly waving at you from across the room, using both of his arms. However, Lord Diavolo and Barbatos were the ones in charge of this party and you were yet to see either of them.

Out of the corner of your eye, you noticed Mammon eyeing the golden utensils laid out in front of him. Not the biggest of surprises really. Anytime Mammon sees something along the lines of gold, he can’t help but snatch it away. And there’s obviously so many valuables scattered all over the place, including the silverware that was proudly presented on every table. You sucked in a breath of anticipation when he reached for one of the spoons, only to exhale in relief when he placed it on the bridge of his nose, trying to balance it.

“MC, look at this!” He tapped your shoulder, as always wanting your full and undivided attention as he demonstrated his newfound skill. You giggled at his antics with fondness as he accidentally let the spoon drop with a clatter and a quiet ‘shit’ coming from him. Lucifer pulled on his ear, like a mother scolding her child and whisper-yelled at him to stop acting like an idiot. The only reason the oldest chose a sit right next to Mammon was to maintain order and peace. Basically, he did it for disciplinary reasons.

“I understand that being impertinent is your full-time job, Mammon but keep this up and I’ll throw you in Cerberus’ room. Let him do with you as he pleases.”

“Lucifer, it’s not a big deal-“

“Yeah, OK,” Mammon hissed, picking up the spoon from the recently polished floor with a slight grin that didn’t quiet reach his eyes “I gotcha. Can-“

“Speaking of Cerberus,” Levi suddenly piped in, no longer fussing about his collar or nervously twiddling with his thumbs because of the massive crowd of demons surrounding him “Didn’t you force me to walk him last week when it was your turn to do it?? I only agreed because you promised to buy me the newest Ruri-Chan limited edition body pillow that came out last Tuesday! And you never did! And now they’re out of stock, you scummy piece of-“

The third eldest would’ve leapt across the table and aimed for the throat if you hadn’t pressed a gentle hand against his chest, making him sit back down with a huff. People were starting to stare at the commotion coming from your table, turning heads and muttering between themselves. You were slowly dying from embarrassment by the way, since you guys definitely became the topic of conversation for the other guests. The brothers were being too noisy to even notice and Lucifer himself was too preoccupied to see the scene they were creating which made you further slouch down into your chair, silently hoping for the ground to swallow you whole. The night really wasn’t going as intended. You could hear Solomon laughing at the brothers’ antics from three tables down.

“I guess that’s Mammon for you,” Belphie yawned, barely raising his head from table “He lies everyday, all day. What exactly is new here? And that says something since it’s coming from me.”

“I apologised for that!” Mammon whined, referring to Levi’s accusation and choosing not to address Belphie’s insult “I was gonna buy it but then I realised I spent all my money earlier that week anyway so I couldn’t!”

“Perhaps that wouldn’t happen if you learned how to save the money you earn properly,” Satan muttered, sipping from his glass of whatever beverage he had snatched from the servants earlier “Not like you know how to earn money in any way besides stealing it.”

You watch as Mammon clenched his fist “Can we please just move on-“

“I can’t believe that I was cursed with this moron for a brother,” Asmo sighed, almost theatrically, as if he was performing. And, in a way, he was. People were getting really interested in the drama unfolding over there. It was making you even more anxious, all those eyes staring at you. The Avatar of Lust was leaning so much on his chair, you were sure he was going to topple over and at this point, you kinda hoped he would. Anything to stop this momentum of hatred aimed at Mammon “You’re always getting us in trouble, you know. Hmph, we can’t go anywhere with you Mammon! You always end up ruining it for us! With your stupid schemes and-“

“I’m hungry-“

“Not now, Beel!”

“Cutting him up into tiny pieces for the witches will always be an option,” Lucifer chimed in, smiling at the thought.

Mammon snapped his head upwards at that. It was such an abrupt reaction, it made you jolt a little in your seat. You couldn’t miss the tension radiating from him, how quickly his body stiffened and exactly how hard his hands were gripping the edge of the table. His brothers were still paying him no mind, blaming him for this and that under their breath or being silently judgemental in Lucifer’s case. You worried for him because Mammon rarely acted like this; feral, in a way. Just so you know, he definitely noticed it. The look of concern plastered all over your face. That’s the only reason he released the table from his vice-like grip and slouched back against his chair. Satan went quiet and was staring at Mammon in bewilderment.

He disliked the idea of you watching him lose control of himself. He was your guardian. Your first pact. It’s important to him that your relationship is build around a pillar of trust. And he can’t even expect you to trust him if he exposes you to his demon form every time something inconveniences him. Mammon would rather cease to exit than have you fear him. So he kept his breathing regulated as the fog cleared his mind. The Avatar of Greed isn’t an angry demon. Snuffing out the the flame of rage he had fanned up until then was relatively easy. He just needed to get through tonight, then he could go home and complain to you about it once he got out of his brothers’ earshot.

“Why does he get to spend so much time with MC anyway? He’d probably sell them for a few Grimm any time of the day, wouldn’t he? It’s so fucking unfair. He won’t change no matter what so why risk MC’s safety? I will summon Lotan on him if he starts getting on my nerves.”

It would be an understatement to say that those words rubbed Mammon the wrong way, judging by the lack of immediate response. It was unexpected for him keep his mouth shut at a time like this. What was even more unexpected was the abrupt, delayed reaction he had a few seconds afterwards, resulting in his chair being flung back about 5 feet in that general direction. The seemingly deafening thud it made when it collided with the floor echoed around the dining hall, bouncing off walls and whacking people over the heads with the aggression behind it. A moment of pure, indescribably loud silence filled the crowded space as everyone else stared in shock at their brother, mouths agape and eyes bulging out of their sockets. Mammon would’ve laughed at their faces if it weren’t for the circumstances leading up to that point.

“What gives any of you the right to treat me like some sort of punching bag?” Mammon drawled, accentuating his obviously superior nature to almost every single demon at that table. He laughed, in an oddly half hearted way, before his sea struck gaze landed back to his siblings “Do not try to push me into a corner, because I will not handle it well. You’ve been having a field day with me for centuries now and I’m starting to get really ticked off, ya know? But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve done everything in my power to keep MC alive for the past few months and y’all are acting as if I’m out here playing with their life. Complain about me all you want. But...” He thumped the table, loud enough to make all the noblemen in the room flinch.

“Don’t you dare insinuate that I would ever put MC in danger, willingly or not because I will rip out your insides and paint the walls of this palace with them while hanging your intestines from these chandeliers. I will pluck your hairs out one by one, then your nails, then your eyeballs and then your teeth. You’re the ones that have put MC in danger’s way time and time again in the past few weeks, and you’re out here trying to suggest that I would even think about hurting them? Unlike every single one of you, who almost killed my human-you’re lucky I don’t have your fucking heads.”

He smashed his fist into the table again, using even more of his strength this time and effectively breaking the whole thing, the wooden legs giving out and shattering into thousands of splinters. Mammon spoke again, his voice lowering “MC forgave you. I didn’t. And I have no reason to. Not with how you’ve been treating me.”Once he spit that out, Mammon turned on his heel and left, slamming the door shut behind him hard enough to shake the whole building, leaving his siblings in dazed awe.

......

Even more silence. For some reason, all of the brothers at the now broken table ended up looking your way, silently questioning what they should do. It often ended up like this

You gave them all an unimpressed stare and a half-assed shrug “Don’t look at me. You guys fucked up.” Before sliding out of your seat and following Mammon out of the castle, sending an apologetic smile to Diavolo on your way out. Hopefully, you could manage to calm him down before everyone else gets home otherwise this might drag on for a while.

Lucifer:

-In all honesty, he probably saw the signs from a mile away and still decided to ignore them

-Maybe because he believed they weren’t being all that harsh on him, even if in Mammon’s eyes they were

-‘Harsh’ in Lucifer’s vocabulary usually means being hanged upside down from a ceiling or publicly executed, not a couple of mere insults

-Not to mention the eldest had always been horrible at communicating with his brothers when it came to emotions

-Despite Mammon clearly suffering from the treatment he received from his brothers, Lucifer refuses to believe he’s the root of the problem

-As the Avatar of Pride, he always had a hard time realising that all those words and the constant teasing, which he deemed to be pretty harmless, scarred Mammon a lot more than expected

-Once he actually comes to that conclusion, and after getting over the initial shock, Lucifer would probably feel the guiltiest out of them all

-Being the eldest means he carries quite a few burdens on his shoulders as most responsibilities fall on him due to his prideful nature

-He would blame himself for Mammon’s outburst simply because he’s the older brother and he should’ve known better, not just because he sees how a big of a role he played in all of this

-Usually, if his brothers do something bad, then he’s there to fix it within hours, that’s how it always worked

-Except he doesn’t know how to fix this exactly

-The problem is he has no idea how to approach Mammon after that sudden meltdown and he has no idea how to talk it out with him because he sucks at expressing himself verbally

-And since this took place in a public space, Lord Diavolo’s Palace no less, he felt really conflicted on what should have been done at that moment in time

-There was a lot of frustration, embarrassment and confusion in him for a good five minutes after Mammon slammed that door shut behind him and even after he gathered his thoughts together, he was still in shock for the rest of the night

-In any case, the whole event was promptly cancelled and everyone ended up going home earlier than expected, after Lucifer apologised to Diavolo about the spectacle they created (several times)

-When they finally get home, he decided to give Mammon his space instead of trying to knock at his door and instead went back to his room

-He knows they will need to solve this matter soon but there’s no way Mammon will want to see, let alone talk, to any of them just yet

-He’s sort of hoping he can apologise best he can next morning at breakfast, cross his fingers and wish for the best but judging by the venom that laced Mammon’s voice the night before, it’s not likely he will forgive any of them that easily.

Levi:

-If I were to guess, he saw the ending credits of his life flash before his very eyes as soon as those words left his mouth

-Levi felt a panic in him like never before, not even while playing his engaging horror visual novels at 3am in complete darkness or that one time he used Lucifer’s credit card to buy merch before being found out

-Must’ve forgotten his brother technically ranks higher than him on the power scale for a second there

-Or maybe he didn’t think his insults were going to affect him much

-They usually don’t

-Or at least that’s the impression he’s been under for a while now

-Mammon doesn’t snap easily under pressure but Levi must’ve really hit a nerve there that night

-While everyone was sitting in a short silence after Mammon left the building, he started twiddling with his fingers again the more he thought about it

-Because now he went from nervous to fucking terrified of what the hell was waiting for him when he finally got home

-He does feel guilty, nowhere near as much guilt as Lucifer feels but still pure shame

-However most of that guilt is swallowed by a steady fear and the constant worry of ‘how do I stop my brother from killing me?’

-Unlike Lucifer, I honestly don’t see him taking any sort of initiative when it comes to apologising to Mammon

-Not even because he doesn’t want to, but he would freeze up if he were to come face to face with him after that incident and then scamper back to his room like a rat in hiding

-So without your help, it’s likely the two won’t be speaking to each very soon which can honestly make life at the House of Lamentation so much more miserable

-In the end, if either you or Lucifer forced him to, he would say sorry by selling some of his merch and then giving him the profits (in secret but we all know it’s him)

-That is a big sacrifice on Levi’s part considering how precious his merchandise is to him

-But the idea that he’s gonna get murdered in his sleep by his older brother was getting a tad too real

-Besides, Mammon is still his brother and if he has to sell a couple of items in order to make him less mad, he would do it, albeit with a bit of grumbling

-Despite that, Mammon still refuses to come out of his room and sort of relies on you to bring him food because he doesn’t want to see his brothers

-Levi and Mammon would probably have to rebuild a lot of their relationship after this but it could easily take months for that to happen since Levi is too terrified to look him in the eye and Mammon is too upset to even hear his voice

Satan:

-He wouldn’t be the Avatar of Wrath if he couldn’t spot the anger within someone from a mile away

-He’s always been able to recognise the fury building up inside of him so for Satan it’s second nature to just know when someone’s on the brink of snapping

-It’s no surprise to say that he probably noticed Mammon’s wrath spilling out before anyone else did

-But alas, he realised it too late

-If he had reacted quicker, maybe he would’ve been able to diffuse Mammon before he exploded on them. Or not

-It’s difficult to tell if he could’ve actually helped because who was he to tell Mammon to calm down??? If anyone told him that while he was throwing a fit, he would probably break their necks-

-In the end, he just pressed his lips into a straight line and watched his brother throw his chair across the room

-Not gonna lie, he found it a bit entertaining purely because of the look on Lucifer’s face

-Satan had to try really hard not to crack a smile because he knew Mammon would probably smash a glass against his head or something

-Even so, he was the first to stand up and offer to go after him, though he wasn’t sure he could do much consoling

-Being so experienced with anger meant that he knew Mammon had built himself into a rage that he won’t be able to escape out of too easily

-Which is why he advises Lucifer to give Mammon his space once they get home

-Overall, the most understanding out of all of the brothers

-At this point in time, probably the least judgemental out of everyone and once Mammon comes out of his room for the first time in a while, either him or Beel is going to apologise to him first

-He may push and push him alongside the rest of his siblings but I feel like Satan doesn’t want to reach a certain low, like cornering Mammon into the frenzy he had that day ever again

-He might get pissy with him if he’s being too stubborn to forgive anyone after coming down from his intrusive thoughts

-And he really hates that Mammon had to remind them about all the times you had nearly died because of them, because he knows they won’t be able to make it up to you so why is Mammon upset about this????

-But he will try to maintain respect for his older brother from then on

-Even if the sharpest of remarks is on the top of his tongue!

Asmo:

-Asmo is the type to laugh it off and then start feeling really upset about it later on, the longer he thinks about the whole thing

-After Mammon storms out, he just assumes it’s another one of those ‘Mammon’ things and tried to brush the feeling of unease off him

-Even so, later that night the memory of Mammon kept coming back to him while he laid in his bed, unable to have a nice rest for the first time in how long? He’s always been really strict about his sleeping schedules after all

-Asmo’s observant, almost on par with Satan himself when it comes down to it. He definitely saw the gleam of anger, pent up frustration and hatred in his brothers’ eyes that moment and it legitimately scared him, even if it was for just half a second

-Honestly, he begins neglecting himself out of anticipation and worry which is a huge red flag for the Avatar of Lust who always holds himself at such a superior level compared to everyone else

-It may start out slow, but it has the same effect as a snowball rolling down the hill. It becomes more of a problem the longer it’s ignored

-Because he spends most of his days now debating whether he should try to coax his brother into coming out of his room and apologising to him, he forgets about himself

-Skincare routines are missed, pedicure appointments have been cancelled; hell, if Mammon’s keeps being stubborn, he may let his hair become absolutely filthy

-Asmo sort of relies on his brothers to provide the living environment he revolves around. If something is off with his brothers, he can not work properly either because it doesn’t feel right to do so

-Imagine a machine not working anymore because one of the clogs in it got stuck

-I can see Asmo feeling a decent amount of guilt when it comes to the situation but he still blames Levi for completely pushing him over the edge at dinner

-So now those two aren’t talking (it’s honestly so exhausting since they’re shoving the blame onto each other without stop)

-If Mammon decides to come out and hear them out, Asmo might get on his knees and beg because that guilt bubbling up inside of him may end up being his demise

-No seriously, MC might need to keep an eye out on him too while comforting Mammon because whatever he is doing isn’t healthy

-Takes Mammon’s outburst pretty badly and tries apologising to him many times but the second eldest still hasn’t said a word to any of them

-And that’s driving him into a fucking swirl of insanity at this point

-Of course, much like Mammon’s mental breakdown, this builds up over time but the result can be devasting

-If you pass by his room at night, you could probably hear him sob about how his brother hates him and it’s really heartbreaking to hear pained cries like that coming from such an overly confident demon like Asmo

Beel:

-Literally the only one here that doesn’t dish out insults onto Mammon every hour of the day

-He joins in very rarely and even when he does, it’s usually in good nature rather than malice

-Unless food is involved. Feelings (and Mammon) might be hurt if that’s the case

-Beel wasn’t listening to his siblings as they were diminishing Mammon, he was way too hungry to comprehend what the hell they were on about

-So he just started wolfing down appetisers until he noticed you looking all weary

-That’s the first thing that put him on alert

-And then the second born’s aura was also...off putting

-Might’ve actually tried to nudge Belphie to stop him from saying anything offensive to Mammon in this state when he realised how tense the atmosphere got

-Flinched when his brother left the palace, almost cracking the whole doorway on his way out

-Hunger is all but gone and at this point he wants to go home to check up on him

-Beel is a bit of a softie and he wears his heart on his sleeve a lot of the times

-He never did anything particularly bad to Mammon, not on the same scale his brothers did certainly and yet he still felt extremely bad

-Perhaps because he didn’t step in as much as he should’ve...?

-Either way, when his loved ones suffer, he has a tendency of putting the blame on himself because he feels it’s the only logical answer

-Honestly, he feels guilty enough to the point where it’s affecting his eating habits-which is obviously not normal for the Avatar of Gluttony

-Beel knows Mammon doesn’t want to talk to him but he still brings him food and leaves it at the doorstep of his room since he doesn’t want to come out and have dinner with them

-Or he relies on you to give it to him

-The thought of Mammon being so mad at them that he doesn’t even want to eat makes him feel so vulnerable

-As soon as he sees him for the first time since that night, he will probably be the first to apologise, even if Mammon isn’t in the mood to hear apologies

-Again, he’s trying to use food to make up to him (bringing him his favourites and paying for them)

-Even if he gets ignored, he’s still going to do it

-Beel is trying his best to say sorry to his older brother the only way he knows how to do so, but Mammon still doesn’t give in

Belphie:

-Could’ve been asleep the whole time Mammon was thrashing about

-Or at least that’s what it looked like to the average passer-by

-Kept one eye open to watch as Mammon finally snapped under pressure, having to raise his head once his brother broke the whole god damned table

-“OK, alright, storm off I guess-I have a splinter now-“

-Don’t trust that sarcastic commentary, he’s in deep thought on the inside

-Maybe he should’ve expected this but then again, he never would’ve guessed Mammon had it in him to be so aggressive

-Will narrow his eyes at him when he talks your death and scowl

-As if he didn’t already feel like the world’s biggest piece of shit, he had to bring that up

-As soon as he leaves, he turns to Lucifer and goes “See what you did? You broke Mammon. You suck, Lucifer.”

-The shifting of blame suits Belphie really well (it takes Beel side glancing him to get him to shut up)

-The Avatar of Sloth is too tired to even try to communicate with his brother so he goes straight to bed after getting home

-However, he actually visits Mammon’s dreams that night

-Or at least tries to, if Mammon is getting any sleep after that showdown

-It’s his way of checking in with his brother, helps him evaluate the situation

- Whether that works or not, there was definitely an attempt that required a lot of effort and you don’t see that very often with Belphagour

-It really demonstrates how much he actually cares for his family, even if he hides behind snide remarks and the likes of it

-However, if Mammon refuses communication, then he can’t do anything but give up

-He clearly won’t be able to convince him to step aside for a chit chat and why waste energy trying to force him to do so

-When the time comes, Belphie knows his brother will willingly talk to him (or at least someone else because he knows he’s not any good at comfort or apologies)

-At the same time, a lot of the things Mammon said during that party rubbed him the wrong way and seeing his twin suffer because of it is also pissing him off so patience may be running thin with Belphie

-Like Levi, there may be a lot of ice between the two from then onwards so it won’t be easy for them to find the middle ground in this whole argument either

-It could lead to a strained relationship if no one intervenes or even a physical fight if the youngest pushes all of Mammon’s buttons properly

Diavolo:

-The Future King feels guilty too, for some reason

-He is clearly not involved but he’s under the impression his party was a catalyst of sorts to the fight that broke out that night

-Diavolo wasn’t even in the same room when it happened-he heard shouting and growling from next door whilst talking to a noble about future arrangements in DevilDom and rushed in

-The sight was something to behold really; Mammon cornering all of his brothers and threatening them with pure venom in his voice wasn’t something you saw everyday

-More often than not, it was the other way around so the Prince had every right to be concerned

-He tried asking Lucifer what was going on after the second eldest slammed the door shut behind him and left but to no avail; the Avatar of Pride was in a state of shock and the only thing he did was apologise to him about a million times before his departure with the rest of his siblings

-Despite his worry, Diavolo tried not to get involved in the aftermath either, believing it’s not his place to interfere and hoping they would solve it out amongst themselves

-He did give Mammon permission to miss RAD classes for that week, thinking a small break is what he needed most

-Even drops by every now and then to check up on him (he just asks you how he’s holding up because he doesn’t want to pry)

-He can’t do much but watch from the sidelines, I mean this is a family dispute so it would be wise to just give them all a bit of space

-If it drags on for too long, however, he will be forced to do something because the brothers are all distracted and can’t get on with their student council work because of it

-Lucifer is even more stressed than usual and can’t even focus during their meetings so for the sake of his friend, if nothing gets resolved quickly, he will intervene and it won’t be pretty

-For now, he’s counting on you to make sure there are no further incidents but it’s unlikely you can stop a train once it’s set in motion so just hope Mammon doesn’t come out of his room until he’s calmed down

Barbatos:

-The butler is a Time Lord so it’s probably no surprise to find out he already knew this was going to happen eventually

-Not like he believed Mammon was going to take his brothers’ insults for much longer anyway

-Being the quiet and observant demon he is, he’s been keeping a close eye on the Avatar of Greed knowing damn well he was going to lose his patience soon enough and go on the offence

-If he knew this was going to happen at such an important moment in time, he would’ve warned his majesty beforehand but he failed to see the potential catastrophe awaiting his breakdown

-Again, he has no right to intervene

-Unless, of course, Lord Diavolo asks him to do so but really the most he can do is give you tips on how to deal with miserable demons

-I mean, you’re the one that’s going to be stuck with them for the rest of the year and this isn’t the type of conflict that gets resolved too easily

-Barbatos is clever so if there is still bitterness between Mammon and his siblings after an amount of time passed, he might try to change timelines (with the permission of Diavolo)

-He’s had enough of Beel coming over to eat his cakes and cry about his older brother hating him (believe it or not, the butler is definitely a bit fond of the sixth eldest so his cries did pull at his heartstrings)

-Basically, in the same position as the Prince

-He relies on you to get them all to make up but he knows it’s not likely to happen any time soon

-For now, he’s getting ready for the chain reaction this fight set in motion because there was no easy way to end this, considering they’re all vicious demons and all

—————————————————————-

Al~ im mad I couldn’t add Simon, Luke and Solomon-I want to write for them too >:(

[kats-baku1999]

Hidden Secrets, Part Two.

wait I can’t believe you guys actually like part one (read that here) I was so insecure about posting it. I’m glad, I’m so glad. Everyone was asking for Bakugo’s suffering so here it is…

READ PART THREE HERE

warnings: I won’t even lie to you all, I have father problems, so this writing hit a little close to home. if in any way you think it’ll hurt or upset you, please don’t read any further okay? mentions of cheating and sex too. also there is some momo slander. I am so sorry.

It was as if the entire world stopped spinning for a second. Kirishima took a step in front of you and Haru, standing chest to chest with Bakugo. Bakugo glared at him, before looking at you. Every ounce of anger you felt towards him began bubbling up. There was so much you wanted to say. So much you wanted to scream at him. You couldn’t yet though, not in front of Haru.

“Kirishima, will you take Haru to your office? I know how excited he has been to see it since the renovation,” You forced a smile, and looked at your son who’s middle brow was creased, which was a for sure sign he was worrying about something, “It’s alright Ru, I will come meet you in there soon,”

“Yeah, come on little monster, I have a huge TV in there now!” Kirishima’s tone did not match the glare on his face, “The conference room is open you two,”

“Thank you Ei, have fun sweetheart,” Haru released himself from you, and let Kirishima take him. He perked his head back over Kirishima’s shoulder and gave you a small wave with his tiny little hand. You forced another smile and waved back, before turning around to face your ex boyfriend. His face was still frozen in shock, as he watched his old best friend walk off with the tiny little human.

“Please tell me what the fuck-”

“Go to the conference room, now.” You snapped and stomped away from him. Bakugo followed after, the boots of his hero costume echoing on the floor of the lobby. He clicked the door behind him as soon as he was in the same room as you.

“So did you just plan on never fucking telling me I had a kid?!” Bakugo yelled, his voice echoing. You turned around and glared at him, “When the fuck did you even find out you were pregnant?”

“Oh, I found out a few days before I found out you were cheating on me,” You laughed dryly, “I was going to tell you that night, but I got a little side tracked,”

“Bullshit absolute bullshit, you should have told me!” Bakugo yelled, not backing down, “Four fucking years! Four!”

“Cut the bullshit Bakugo, I came to your office two weeks before he was born, I ran into Momo and she said you would call me, that night I get a simple text that says you wanted nothing to do with him,” You yelled, jabbing a finger into his chest, “Then you just mysteriously move away with Momo, and no one hears from you, and now you are in Kirishima’s office demanding to know things?!”

“What the fuck are you talk about?! What text?!” Bakugo yelled, grabbing your hand and moving it away from him, “I just found out about the kid today! You still haven’t even confirmed that he was mine?!”

“Take one fucking look at him and tell me he isn’t yours, the only thing that even convinced me he might be from some magical conception is that he is so sensitive and caring!”

“(Y/N) what fucking messages? We haven’t talked since the night you left?” Bakugo’s voice lowered, “I promise you, if I would have known about him I would have, I would have-”

“What? Come back to me? Be with me?” Your voice was monotone and cold, he felt like he was talking to a stranger. A stranger that hates him.

“I mean, yeah maybe, or at least I would’ve been there for his first steps, words, breath, just anything,” Bakugo’s anger was subsiding for the first time in years, “Momo, that day, I know what you’re talking about, because she told me that her and I would never be happy as long as we were here,”

“Oh wow, so the person who you cheated on me with was also a liar, what a shock,” You scoffed, “Sorry, I’m sorry, I heard about her and Todoroki, and their affair,”

Bakugo paused for a second, shocked by your apology. Also by the fact that you even knew. It wasn’t public knowledge yet, considering it just happened two weeks ago. That was the one reason Kirishima was even acknowledging his presence again. He was the one who found them together, and despite his anger towards him, at one point Bakugo was his best friend. So he called him, told him to come to the bar he was at. When Bakugo got there, he found Momo practically on top of Todoroki. A poor, still oblivious, Todoroki who was convinced that Momo had left Bakugo. That she had called off their two year engagement.

“I didn’t realize Kirishima told you, still don’t know how he failed to mention my son-”

“Hey, don’t do that okay? Be mad at me for not trying harder, but don’t be mad at Kirishima, he knew if he would have said anything he wouldn’t have been able to see Haru anymore,” You sat down in one of the chairs, “To be honest, I had just planned on you never finding out,”

“That isn’t fair (Y/n), he is my son.” Bakugo’s tone of voice was frustrated and angry. He didn’t want to be mad at you, he knew he couldn’t be mad at you.

“No, he is my son, mine, I’ve done everything, I was there for all of the bruises and scratches, for when he got into my hair gel to try and make himself look like Kirishima, for his birthdays and Christmases, you weren’t there,” You snapped, “Sharing his genetics does not make him your son,”

“No but you don’t get to hold this shit against me, it wasn’t my fault,” Bakugo fired back.

“You’re the one who fucked her,” You sneered. Standing up again, running your hand through your hair, “You cheated on me with her, you chose her over me, you don’t get to be the victim here either, I don’t even get to be the victim, the only person who deserves to even act like the victim is my son,”

“I’m here now, I know now, and I want nothing more but than to get to know him,” Bakugo looked at you with pleading eyes, “To be apart of his life, of your life,”

“I don’t know, I can’t just tell him that you’re his dad, he has been asking for the past year, and he has so much more going on already,” You laughed, “He doesn’t have his quirk yet, it’s becoming evident that he might not ever have his quirk, so how do I tell him that his dad is the number one hero, and a person he idolizes?”

“So you’ve faulted me because my ex fiancé was a psychopath who didn’t think I needed to know about my son, and now because I’m the number one hero- wait, he doesn’t have his quirk?”

“No, no he doesn’t, that’s why we are in town, for Denki and Hitoshi’s wedding, and to see a doctor,” You explained, the tears finally spilling over, “I can’t just dump this on him too Bakugo, please, you have to understand,”

“I do, okay I do, but please I can’t just let you walk away today with him and not do anything, I have to know him, but I don’t want to make this a problem bigger than it needs to be,” Bakugo grabbed your shoulders, “Please don’t make me villain here, okay I don’t want to be,”

“As much as I want to, I can’t, I know I can’t it wouldn’t be fair to him,” You grabbed his hands off your shoulders and held them for a second, a small sob threatening to escape your throat, “But please don’t take him from me, he’s all I have,”

Bakugo stopped and tightened his grip on your hands. Forcing you to look up at him. His eyebrows were creased, furrowed up exactly like Haru’s always did. The same look of concern Haru’s always had on his face when you said something close to sad.

“I wouldn’t think about taking him away, so get that shitty ass thought out of your head right now,” Bakugo sighed, “He doesn’t even have to know I’m his father right now, not until your ready, but I would like to be your friend, your friend that comes around him, your friend that he gets to know like he knows Kirishima,”

“Okay, okay,” You mumbled, nodding your head, “You can pick us up and take us to his doctor’s appointment, then we can all go out with Kirishima after so he feels more comfortable, we can start there,”

“Okay, let’s start there,” Bakugo let go of your hands slowly, “Does he you know like anything?”

“Yes, Bakugo he likes things, heroes specifically, are you going to blow up this office if I say Deku is his favorite?” You wiped the tears off your face, and finally bust out laughing at Bakugo’s groan that followed, “I’m going to grab Haru, I’ll have Kirishima send you my number okay?”

“Okay, thank you, let me know about the doctors thing.”

You gave him a small nod and walked out of the room. Stopping the bathroom to rinse off the tears. When you opened up the door to Kirishima’s office, you found Haru staring at the large tv completely awe struck by the footage of Midoriya fighting alongside Bakugo. One of their earlier fights, they were just barely pros. You remembered it because that was when he and Shinso agreed to work together. That was the fight that introduced you to him.

— a few days later

“Momma, you’re doing your upset walk,” Haru whispered, as if he was telling some kind of secret. Shinso snorted into his coffee, and earned him self a dirty look from you.

“Your mother is just nervous over seeing her friend small human,” Shinso called you out, and earned another dirty look.

“Momma is friends with Dynamight, Uncle Toshi! She has even met Deku!” Haru’s eyes were sparkling as he said it, waving around his Deku plushie.

“You know, I’ve worked with Deku before, almost beat him-”

“In the sports festival, yes Uncle Toshi we knowwww,” Haru groaned, having heard the story at least fifty time. It was your turn to laugh. Haru loved Shinso, but when it came to his favorite heroes, being ranked under his own fiancé was a bit of a sting.. So poor Shinso tries to impress the kid every chance he can.

“You’ve told him the story at least ten times,” You backed up your son, shrugging your shoulders.

“You know, I was in the room when you came into this world little man, I deserve some props as a hero,” Shinso groaned, and Haru just laughed, taking another bite of his cereal.

“I know, but you’re a hero like you know a dad would be,” Haru said casually and both of you froze. He was trying so desperately to figure out what it meant to have a Dad. The last time Kirishima came to visit, he had even asked him if he was his dad because of their red eyes, and how Kirishima is always there for his big moments. Then he asked you if Shinso was his dad, because they both liked cats.

“Haru, our ride is here, we better go outside okay?” You smiled, changing the subject, “Give Toshi a hug!”

Haru jumped down and gave Shinso a quick hug. You grabbed your things, and your files about Haru’s past doctor’s appointments. After he grabbed his backpack you walked over and kissed Shinso’s cheeks, mouthing a quick apology. He waved you off.

“Let me know how it goes,” He smiled, and you knew he wasn’t just talking about the doctors appointment.

You picked up Haru and carried him outside. Bakugo waved at you both, and Haru hid his face again. Although he was excited to get to meet one of his heroes, he was also terrified. Bakugo pouted a little bit, and you gave him a small glare. He straightened up and forced a smile.

“I just need to grab his seat!” You forced a smile, trying to avoid how awkward this was. Bakugo shook his head.

“Nope, I bought one, it’s got all the things,” Bakugo sounded proud of himself, you raised an eyebrow but walked towards his car. He opened the door and you saw a seat, one of the ones with a cup holder, and in it was a collectible Deku doll that Haru had wanted for months. Along with a signed picture of him.

“Haru, look,” You whispered, making sure to tell Bakugo later that he can’t just buy his love. Haru’s face lit up though, and he quickly jumped down out of your arms. He grabbed the doll and picture, looking at you with wide eyes.

“Thank you Mr. Dynamight sir!” Haru grinned, before climbing in his seat so you could buckle him in. Bakugo stood behind you, and you could practically feel the grin radiating off of him.

“Call me Katsuki kid, all of my friends do,” Bakugo smiled, and got in the drivers seat. You walked over to the other side, and climbed into the passenger seat.

The ride was quiet, just the sounds of Haru playing with his new toy in the background. Neither you or Bakugo knew what to say to one another. So you just sat in comfortable silence, looking through Haru’s main doctor’s notes. Then Haru needed to blow his nose, and out of habit you opened up the glove box to grab a tissue as if you were in your own car. Inside it though you found Bakugo’s necklace that had matched yours, that you gave back to him when you left. You grabbed a tissue and handed it back to Haru.

“Yours is hanging up on the rearview mirror of my other car,” Bakugo mumbled, his eyes not leaving the road. You studied the side of his face, just nodding in response. It was odd that after all of this time he still had that dumb thing. You two had gotten them on your fourth time of hanging out, he had found them at a festival he made some appearance at. They were cheap, but you both wore them all of the time. The necklaces meant something to both of you, the day you took yours off was the day you knew it was over.

The rest of the ride felt tense. You felt silly over thinking the necklace. You figured he would have thrown them away at this point. When you finally got to the hospital, Bakugo went and found a parking spot. He went to walk in with you two but you shook your head.

“I’m not ready for the rumors to start surrounding Haru, so would you mind just hanging out here?” You whispered.

“Oh, yeah no you’re right, I’ll be here,” Bakugo nodded his head, looking a little disappointed. You climbed out of the car and grabbed Haru, who waved a tiny hand at Bakugo as the two of you walked towards the entrance.

You weren’t in the waiting room for long till you were called into the exam room. They did a few X-rays, and tests, on Haru. Then after about an hour you were sitting in the Doctor’s office as Haru played with his toys on the floor. The doctor say down across from you and showed you all of the test results.

“Well the good news is, Haru will most definitely have a quirk, his body is already adjusted to what his quirk would be,” The doctor smiled, “I’m guessing his father’s quirk has something to do with nitroglycerin?”

“Uh well we don’t actually know much about his father,” You lied, knowing Haru was paying attention now.

“Well Haru has high levels of it in his sweat glands according to the tests, but my only concern is that I think he has some kind of mental block keeping him from using his quirk,” The doctor explained, “You’re quirkless correct?”

“Uh yes sir, I am,” You nodded your head. Haru walked over to you and grabbed your hand. So you put him in your lap.

“Maybe he just won’t use his quirk because he doesn’t want to be different from you, since you are his sole provider,”

“No that’s not it,” Haru interrupted and you both looked at him, “It’s not Mommy’s fault, I just want to use my quirk when Dad comes back for us,”

You felt your heart break into a million pieces.

“Haru sweetie, have you known about your quirk?” You whispered, and he nodded his head sadly.

“I accidentally blew up Mira’s doll at the playground, but made her promise to not tell her parents so you wouldn’t know,” Haru hung his head, and avoided eye contact. Like he did whenever he thought he was going to be in trouble.

“Haru you could’ve told me, then we wouldn’t have had to do all these tests, why didn’t you-”

“I just wanted dad to be the one to help me,” Haru cut you off again, his eyes watering. You let out a sigh and pulled him closer to you. The doctor nodded his head, smiling softly at you.

The two of you walked out to the car again. Bakugo’s head perked up at the sight of you both. He jumped out of the car and opened the door for you to put Haru in. Bakugo raised an eyebrow at the sad look on his face, and then looked at you.

“Tell me he has his quirk? Or at least a hope of one?” Bakugo asked, and you closed Haru’s door. Glaring at Bakugo, before walking over to your door. You climbed in the car and didn’t say a word until you got the park where Kirishima was meeting you guys.

“Hey, Haru why don’t you go with Uncle Ei and play while I talk to Katsuki?” You smiled at Haru, who climbed out of his seat and went to Kirishima who had opened the door for him. Kirishima closed the door and walked away with Haru. Bakugo looked towards you with a raised eyebrow.

“Why did you do it?” You whispered and Bakugo just looked even more confused, “Why did you fuck all of this up?”

“What do you mean?” Bakugo’s tone was proof enough that he was annoyed. Not necessarily at you, but more so at the fact he could see Kirishima playing with his son so effortlessly.

“Cheat on me, leave me alone to raise him, leave him confused and upset because all he wanted was his dad,” Your eyes started water, tears threatening to spill over. Bakugo turned his head back towards you, your words stinging a little bit.

“I didn’t leave you alone, I didn’t know.” His voice was stern, “You can’t make me out to be the dead beat father in this situation (Y/n) I would have been there for him if I would have known he was alive,”

You let out a sigh of defeat, making eye contact with him. Bakugo felt his heart break at the look in your eyes. You looked.. Defeated.

“I know, I know it’s my fault okay?” You whispered, “I should have never kept him from you, I should have told you I was pregnant but I was selfish, and hurt, and-”

You were sobbing now. Your words falling off. Bakugo unbuckled your seat belt, and pulled you over the center console so you were sitting on him. He hugged you, tightly. Letting you let out every single sob, as he rubbed your back. You cling onto his shirt as you buried your face in his shoulder.

“I know why you were mad, and I don’t blame you but (Y/n), I would have been there for you both if I would have know,” He whispered against you, you pulled your head back and looked at him.

“I know, and I’m sorry, I still hate what you did to me, to our relationship, but Haru deserves to know his father,” You sighed, Bakugo reached up and wiped some of the stray make up on your face.

“So we’ll tell him?” He smiled hopefully, and you nodded.

“Eventually, eventually we will tell him, but for now I just want you to get to know him, ease him into it,” His smile faded a little but he knew you were right.

Bakugo stared at you and it settled in for him that it was never Momo. It was never once her for him, it was you. Back then, he was too scared to let himself admit it. Despite how long you two had been together when his affair with Momo started, he was scared. Scared of how much he could love a single person. Then he felt guilty because he had no reason to have that fear. He grew up watching his parents have that kind of love. It was his own selfish mindset that pushed him to that decision.. That pushed him to losing you.

You crawled back into your seat, flipping the visor down. Bakugo watched as you wiped the make up off your face. You turned back to look at him, smiling a little.

"I have a proposition for you, if you want to spend more time with him?" Your voice sounded a little nervous, and Bakugo grinned a little nodding his head, "Go to the wedding with us to the wedding? I mean you and Denki were friends right?"

"Are you sure? I mean I know how all of them must feel about me?" Bakugo laughed a little, and you shook your head looking back at Haru and Kirishima.

"They all love Ru, so much, so I think they will understand why I want you there, and besides Hitoshi does nothing but tell me to get back in the dating game," You rolled your eyes, and Bakugo laughed at you a little bit.

"How long has it been since you've been on a date if Dead Eyes is making jokes about it?" Bakugo was half teasing, and half curious what the answer was.

"Oh don't you start asshole, I have been raising our kid," You laughed, a genuine laugh. A laugh that made Bakugo's heart do some kind of internal flip. He smiled softly at you.

"You said our kid," He whispered, and you blushed a little.

"Our kid who is staring in here trying to figure out what's wrong," You laughed, pointing towards Haru who now had an adorable pout on his face. You climbed out of the car and ran towards him, picking him up and spinning him all crazy like. Bakugo smiled as he watched you two together. Realizing that all he ever wanted in life was right here, and in his reach again.

--------------------------------------

tagging all of the people who replied to hidden secrets part one <3

there is going to be a part three, and i promise for everyone who asked for bakugo suffering.. it is coming because i am feeling evil >:]

@girl-who-likes-cold-bois , @leximoron , @shyonigirichan , @tspice283 , @heyomie , @beigeunburdened , @xoxo-teddybear , @silentw-lkr , @semhal , @justmewoo , @jazzylove , @nolimitsam , @da1chisjuicywatermelons , @ayoooooooooooo

[sukirichi]

— falling out of love with gojo satoru

warnings: angst, mentions of sexual content, cursing

masterlist !

when you fell in love with gojo satoru, your heart exploded like a firework.

you still remember that moment very vividly at the back of your head. it was new year’s, and you two were drunk on both liquor and the feeling of having the other by your side. it was a tough year – as the norm was for jujutsu sorcerers – but you both made it out alive.

alive couldn’t even begin to describe how you felt that day.

satoru has always been the person who stuck by your side through thick and thin like how you were the one who always went against the higher-ups when they tried to limit his capabilities. you should’ve known then, that the higher ups were just the beginning. that when once you thought their oppression for satoru’s plans were nothing but microscopical compared to the barrier his family had placed between the both of you.

they didn’t like you.

he was a gojo, the strongest jujutsu sorcerer, while you were...well, you.

you weren’t really anyone special or better than anyone. your technique was decent and had a lot more drawbacks than advantages that you had to improve your physical abilities instead to not be deemed a total useless tool.

satoru never saw you that way. to him, he admired you almost as equally as he cherished his best friend, suguru, so much so that the three of you become the best of friends in the blink of an eye. the more time you spent together, whether alone or with others, it felt like your world just hyper focused or snapped into tunnel vision, zeroing on no one else but the white-haired man whose smile was brighter than any other in the sky.

when he told you he loved you, you couldn’t distinguish which ones were the exploding new year fireworks or the drumming of your heart. you stared up at him then, lips falling open as you released a tiny breath of air, and satoru laughed. he actually laughed.

you wanted to tease him, to punch him even though you couldn’t really ever touch him just to get over the fact he had you losing your composure with eyes glossing over. “well,” he taunted then, one shoulder lifting up lazily. “aren’t you gonna say anything? if you feel the same way, now’s the best time to tell me. we can end the year as friends and start another one as-”

satoru never got to finish his sentence. you had jumped into his arms faster than the speed of light, hands yanking down his yukata to pull him towards you, your lips slamming on his almost greedily.

he didn’t mind. he never did.

for once, it felt as if his infinity never existed. you had both spent the night tangled under the sheets, your name rasped from his lips like a prayer. the way you kneeled for him just moments later with your eyes fervently closed made him feel like he’s the one being worshipped instead, and in a way, it was. you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt the day after when he never gave you a break and kept you pulled closer to him.

you loved him – way too much that you no longer cared how much it would hurt if ever the time came that you no longer felt the same.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly. your shared apartment would still be filled with his annoying mannerism of dragging his feet over the floor as he walked, always groaning and complaining that he was hungry but never really bothered to cook anything for himself.

it felt a lot like living with a child where you were his mother, but in that sense, satoru hated it whenever you worried for him.

“you’re not my mother, stop telling me what to do!”

“stop being so arrogant, satoru!” you pointed to the barely conscious child in his arms, the first year student still barely breathing because satoru had gone out of his way again and brought yuuji while he fought a special grade curse. “you may be strong, but not everyone around you is capable of handling what you can! stop dragging people into your mess and start using your goddamn brain for once!”

“you don’t know anything, so shut the hell up.”

you scoffed, hands placed on your hip while you blinked back the angry tears that threatened to fell. you worried for yuuji, you really did, but in reality, you just couldn’t handle seeing gojo pushing himself to his limits and coming back home more wounded than the night before.

“i’m just worried for you, satoru. i don’t want you getting hurt.”

“i’m the strongest,” was all he said – was what he always kept saying. “i’m not going to get hurt.”

“you may not,” you reply stiffly, “but what about me? don’t you think about me? don’t you think about how much it hurts me to see you this way?”

you told yourself you hated him. you hated how arrogant he got. it was good he was confident of his abilities and prided himself of such an honourable title, but satoru was human. he was bound to fall at some point.

eventually, you got too tired.

it was too tiring to keep waiting for him to come home unscathed. you were assigned different missions all the time. satoru would always be working overseas while you mostly helped train the kids and exorcised curses from time to time; no missions that were as dangerous as his.

in the dead of the night, when you were turned away from him in your bed that had already gotten so cold from his usual absence, satoru would slip beside you as silently as he could. the morning afterwards would always be the same: good morning, did you sleep well? he knew the answer. he knew you never slept well without him, but he’d ask just to be nice, and it wouldn’t take too long before you’re both late to work because he missed you too much from being away all the time that he wanted to feel you clamp around him one more time.

it was tiring. too tiring.

that heavy weight never left your shoulders. you cried yourself to sleep far too much that you’d lost count – until you reached a point you just felt nothing. the bed no longer felt cold – just empty. his side always remained untouched, his chair in the dining table barely used, and you’ve gotten so used of washing only your plate and utensils that you wondered if satoru had ever been there.

you wondered if it was a coping mechanism; that maybe you could just no longer handle the pain of having to worry about him every damn night and he’d never care enough to at least be a little more careful, and this was why you just stopped missing him, which was why you just started enjoying the silence in your apartment a little bit more than you should.

but if it was a coping mechanism...why did you feel a lot freer and happier in his absence? instead of it feeling like you were supposed to be distracted, you felt awakened. alive.

alive in the same way he told you he loved you while the skies painted different hues of red, blue, green, and yellow in the darkness that bore witness to your souls connecting that night – the same sky that was now patiently watching as your souls split in half and formed itself whole all over again.

contrary to how you fell for him, you fell out of love with your best friend quietly.

there was no longer someone singing made up songs in the shower. there would no longer be that sound of an annoying loud kiss down the bride of your neck or the smacking of his palm on your ass when he wanted to piss you off.

you fell out of love him so silently that when he crawled next to you that night, you didn’t even hear him. and for the first time in a long time, you slept well the moment he left before the sun stretched its wings across the horizon. when you were greeted by nothing but your own pair of slippers outside your bedroom and not even a post it note to tell you he’d already left for work, a smile tugged on your face.

you made your breakfast in peace. satoru no longer dared to come back home if he was injured because he knew you wouldn’t care enough to fix him up.

although of course you would, but nothing ever beats in your heart for him anymore when you dab the disinfectant across his cut lips. satoru would catch your wrist then to tug you to him slowly, empty eyes staring back at his sky blue ones.

“thank you. for patching me up.”

“you’re welcome,” you’d smile, climbing off his lap while closing the first aid-kit. “go get changed. i’ll cook something up for you.”

it was a silent, empty routine. satoru would thank you for fixing him up because he was never every sorry for worrying you. he’d keep being reckless again and again until he reached a point you no longer cared for him enough to say goodbye to him with a kiss and the slow, tender promise of be safe – i’ll wait for you to come home.

you still kiss him – more out of habit than anything – but you’ve changed.

i’ll see you tonight.

it was empty, silent, completely different from the fireworks he’d ignited within you when he told you he loved you. satoru wasn’t dumb, and he didn’t need his six eyes to see that you’ve grown too comfortable over the large space between you and him between the sofa, almost as if him being away was what felt home for you.

he was never a confrontational man; he hated each waking moment that lead to this, but he had to do it. he needed to do it – to set you both free.

when the commercials started playing, satoru lowered the volume down, voice low and serious as he turned to you. you easily picked up on the sudden tension in the room – the first thing you’ve felt ever since you’ve fallen out of love with him – yet nothing changed. when satoru sighed, your heart didn’t ache.

“well,” he chuckled nervously as he leant back to his side, “things have changed, don’t you think?”

“yes.” there was no point denying it. you knew it – he felt it.

“what do we do now?”

you had no answer to his question. despite the fact you no longer looked at him the same way, not once had it crossed your mind to leave your apartment. not because you wanted to hold on as much as possible to whatever memories you shared under this roof, but simply because you didn’t know where else to go.

it wasn’t like it made a difference anyway. satoru barely came home, and when he did, he made his presence as scarce as possible that you could no longer tell what difference it would make if he was here or not.

“i don’t know,” you admitted, knees hugged to your chest. “what do you want to do?”

his answer came in the form of opened doors. you leant against the doorframe, watching as nanami and even yuuji came to help satoru move his stuff out of the apartment. he found a better place somewhere in the upstate, somewhere much closer to bars and clubs – which you know he thoroughly enjoyed it prior to meeting you – and your mind immediately went back to the time you and satoru first moved in.

it proved to be a difficult task. you both wanted to move in and finish unpacking as soon as possible, but satoru was too eager to christen each part and corner of the house that you both ended up making more mess.

nights spent tucked into each other because the heater was broken and you were both too tired to sleep anywhere except the uncomfortable mattress played like a broken record in your mind. satoru’s laughter echoed when nanami complained that he should stop spending money on souvenirs so he could’ve hired professionals to help him move out instead, your head snapping up at the source of that carefree, sweet laugher that always had butterflies erupting in your stomach.

as if feeling your gaze on him, satoru’s eyes flitted to where you stood. when he smiled, you could tell each genuine apology rang behind it – all the words he never got to say staying like a broken glass that kept cutting him over and over again.

he loved you. he still loves you.

and maybe, tucked away in the deepest parts of your heart that no longer felt fond of him the same way it did before, still held a little compassion enough for this man you once wanted to spend your life with.

you weren’t unkind. you didn’t need to love someone to know when to forgive them, but just for this moment, just for him, you could pretend to for one last time.

smiling up at him with your eyes crinkled and the last bits of adoration for everything about him gleamed through your lashes just before it slipped away into nothingness. it was enough. it was enough for satoru to know he’d been forgiven, and it was enough for him to finally set you free.

the next time you saw him at school, there were no longer fireworks.

your heart was at peace.