#everyone's lives would be easier if i wasn't in it anyways i should just go throw myself into the dam ir smth

[polyamquackity]

Literally I don't think living like this is worth it

[cipheress-to-k-pop]

Hello, Happy Holy Ramadan. I know your request box is closed, but when your request box is opened, can you make this request? if it doesn't bother you, could you do Long Ramadan headcanons for Damian Wayne and the reader? I saw your Damian wayne x muslim reader post before. And I thought it was appropriate to ask you this. If this request bothers you, feel free to ignore it. Have a nice day 🩷🩷🩷🤚

Ramadan HCs

Muslim!Damian Wayne x Muslim!Reader

hey there sweetheart and Ramadan Mubarak <3! firstly i'm so sorry that it took me so long to respond to the ask! im ashamed it took me a year honestly. requests are closed but i still wanted to be able to write for this because we obviously need more muslim representation and also the last time i posted the muslim hc for damian there were just so many of the readers who texted me or sent asks or commented saying that they really appreciated the representation

anyways i wasn't sure if i was going to respond or not because it has been a year but since it is currently Ramadan and it's going to end very soon I figured why not

Thank you for being so respectful in your ask, I really appreciate it and I hope you like it. Hope you have a very blessed Ramadan and wishing everyone a lot of health and happiness during this time. Even to my non-muslim readers, I hope you all are doing well and you're all healthy <3333

also i know that there is a very slim chance of this happening because all of you are amazing but i will not tolerate any hate of any kind. if you

your first Ramadan after being married to Damian was certainly a new experience

before being married, you were just used to your parents handling everything for you

by the time you wake up for suhoor, the table would be set

by the time you'd be home from university, your mother would be waiting by the door with a date and a glass of water

so now that you were married and you had to handle everything on your own, it took a little bit of getting used to

luckily for you, Damian is a very hands on type of man

he's the kind of person who'd just drink a cup of water or a glass of milk, maybe a couple of dates or a fruit and he'd be ok for the remainder of the day

but god forbid you even think of doing the same thing

he'd just about have a heart attack

absolutely not

initially, he'd request Alfred to make meals for you so he could bring them home for the both of you to have suhoor together

just until the both of you got the hang of it

after that damian would either help you cook before patrol so there would be food ready for the both of you

or he'd swing by some restaurant that was open and grab some takeout for the both of you

he'd heat up the food and set the table and making sure everything was absolutely ready before finally waking you up

practically carrying your sleepyass to the table and handfeeding you so he can make sure you're eating properly

since he handles suhoor, you handle iftar and keep the table set so you can eat together

you could always just stay at the manor so you wouldn't have to worry about the meals, like bruce or dick have suggested so many times

but you prefer living alone with your husband

no offense to them at all

but it's just easier for you to maintain your modesty at your own home

anyways

your marriage gets really tested during Ramadan

the two of you are barely getting any sleep and it's difficult for you both to get used to

the only time that you both spend together and are completely present is when he should be patrolling

the lack of sleep makes you both kind of cranky

and it's difficult to not snap at each other

eventually you both get pretty tired and exhausted and just slip into routine

but of course it's nothing some sleep and some time spent together can't solve

and since you've been trying to reduce watching movies and listening to music during the holy month, you end up playing board games together or going for long drives together where you just talk and talk and talk

you thought you were extremely secure in your marriage

that was until you saw damian pout and give you the silent treatment after losing a game of gin rummy

then claiming you shouldn't be playing a game called 'jinn' in the first place

not swearing or talking shit during ramadan was especially hard for him

especially with tim and steph yelling 'fi ramadan?' at him everytime he makes even the slightest snide comment

you find it hilarious but i digress

whenever you go to the masjid for nightly prayers, damian and you will go and find a new ice cream place to try out late at night

you mention in passing how the women's side of the mosque is so bland compared to the men's and damian immediately looks into getting the mosque refurbished so that you and other women can enjoy it

damian's shoes get stolen once and the great detective actually couldn't find out who it was

you hear him complain about it constantly

CONSTANTLY

this time is when you both really lean into the adorable muslim couple aesthetic

matching prayer mats with each of your names embroidered on it

matching tasbih

and other things you get the picture

you both go all out for ramadan and decorate your home from top to bottom

since you both don't really celebrate many of the western holidays, he really wants to make this a memorable time for the both of you

and so do you

you hold an iftar party at your place many times with all your friends and family

it started out with you just inviting everyone but eventually it became a weekly potluck, which you really appreciated

bro damian is more excited about Eid than you are

he literally has to keep reminding you to get your dress ready for Eid al fitr

because he wants to get a jubbah in a matching color and surprise you

you know how you have those cute texts of girlies asking their bfs for their opinions on their nails?

the exact same thing

except with HENNA

you send him like 100 different pictures a week, planning which design you want to wear for Eid

he responds to all of them with utmost seriousness

obviously, he's an artist

he knows whats the difference between arabic and indian designs for henna

but secretly he's wondering why you're sending him so many when you only have 2 hands

but um hello he's never going to tell you that

because it's ramadan and obv ramadan related stuff is going to be appearing on everyones fyp he has to deal with both you and dick sending him videos of the scholars being funny (iykyk)

hey guys let's start ramadan w a bang

also has to deal with jason asking him CONSTANTLY how he's still able to walk around when all the demons are supposed to be locked up for the month

plus he has to now deal with you watching mukbangs and restaurant reviews and crying to him about how you're starving

why on earth did silent asmr mukbangs of wingstop get so popular only during ramadan?

believe me every single prayer damian makes during this month, he is thanking god for bringing you to him and praying for your health and your happiness

when you found out, you cried in his arms for a good solid 5 minutes

he also secretly kind of prayed for kids on laylat ul qadr but you didn't hear it from me

not only is this month really special for the both of you, you take it as an opportunity to give back

damian has wayne enterprises run soup kitchens for the entire month and they serve all people meals as well as suhoor and iftar

you both volunteer there personally

you donate money of course and damian will tell you that everytime he does it, he feels fulfilled in a way he never has before

you honestly feel so proud of the man you feel blessed to call your husband

also, like the perfect husband he is, he sends gifts and food to your parents

who quickly begin to regard him as better than your own siblings

much to his secret pleasure

uk i wish i could keep going

honestly ramadan is such a magical and rewarding time of the year

and you are so happy to spend it along with damian

P.S.

while damian completely understood the point of sacrificing a goat for Eid al adha

he still cried about it to you the night before out of guilt

you definitely donated the meat that came out of that

Forever Taglist:

@simonsbluee

@notslaybabes

@superheroesaremyjam113263

@writers-whirlwind

DC Taglist:

@emmacata

@p--e--a--c--h--e--s

@sometimeseverythingsucks

@sokkas-honour

@unstable1902

@lostgirlheart

@missdisapear

@tadpole-san

@isawachickeninatree

@uxavity

@battlenix

@capricorn-stark

@evermoore580

@dumbbitchgalore

@fuckingjinkies

@some-lovely-day

[theetherealraphael]

sometimes you just sit down and write around 500 words of rambling about your new family!

featuring @darthpastry, @nanochittle, @gibbish-anon-from-gell, @shakespeare-official-account, @thesmallestclown, @i-bless-your-heart, and two others who i dont know the url of!

uh yeah theres not an awful lot of dialogue but eh whtvr!

When Raphael (also known as Ralph, and occasionally as Rafe) woke up that morning, he was one of the few people awake, as per usual. It made sense, since everyone had such conflicting schedules, and as such there were people living in the house Raphael had never even met, but that didn't make it any easier to be nearly alone in the giant house. It didn't help that he was still relatively new compared to everyone else, but whatever.

"Good morning guys!" As usual, the only on up and at home was Darth, who waved. Nano was probably awake, but at school, and Gibbish was heading to bed around now. Other than that, Starbucks normally awoke in about an hour, and then everyone else would wake up in their own time.

"Good morning!" Darth responded from the sofa, and Raphael sat down nearby after getting breakfast - after all, it is the most important meal of the day - and he scrolled through Tumblr for the next hour or so.

"Morning," Starbucks said, stretching as she did so.

"Good morning!"

And the morning continued like that, with Clown appearing randomly mid morning (did they ever go to sleep? Raphael wasn't entirely sure the answer was yes) and Starbucks heading off to school around the same time.

After that was afternoon, when the majority of people would really wake up. Occasionally people like Bing would pop in around this time, but generally it was the same six or so people all afternoon.

Shakespeare woke up around this time, and would pop in randomly and act all sappy with Clown before disappearing for anywhere from a few minutes to an hour, and Vivaldi, also known as Ipod Nano, would get up around mid-afternoon. Nano would also make their appearance and start interacting with people regularly, and as usual they were... Well, just look.

"HELLO EVERYONE!" Nano burst through the door around the same time as Gibbish woke up, and startled Raphael so badly he fell out of his chair.

"Hi Nano!" Darth responded, and the others copied suit.

"HELLO DARTH! AND CLOWN! AND GIB! AND RALPH! AND SHAKESPEARE! AND EVERYONE ELSE!!!" Nano ran around, being affectionate to everyone currently up, and somehow people who weren't.

It was a few more hours before Blessie would wake up, but when she did everyone got excited all over again, with Gibbish and Nano being the loudest of all, as usual, and Raphael and Darth being the quietest.

Seriously, how were Darth and Raphael the two most normal people here?

Shakespeare had disappeared off again, so for some reason Clown was... being weird with Gibbish? The incest in this family is insane, honestly!

(Although Raphael hadn't exactly made it better, considering Gibbish was also his kid... Although technically that was his spouse's fault! Raphael hadn't adopted Gibbish!)

Anyway, Clown was clowning on Gibbish, and everyone else was kinda just watching, so Raphael decided to go literally anywhere else.

"I'm gonna go to bed now, good night!" Darth said, heading upstairs, and Raphael figured he should probably head up as well.

After saying his goodnight's, he went to bed, and prepared to do this all over tomorrow.

[theliterarywolf]

I have to ask. How come Western Culture is so appalled with erotic stuff? For today. Because I’ve been seeing so many people being so… puritan lately.

It's a misplacement of blame.

People are, admittedly, scared shitless about current developments in the U.S. and the UK. However, rather than actually examine the legitimate backing causes for these developments (the widespread encouragement of ignorance, bodily-autonomy being interpreted by some groups as 'selfish', and certain groups insisting that an increased acknowledgement of the LGBTA population is a slippery slope for pedophilia and sin), it's easier to go for an easier target.

Hence the backlash against Erotica and 18+ content.

'Oh, my abuser used porn to coerce me! It's obviously the porn that's the issue!' Yes, and some of us were groomed with toys and video games, should we nuke those industries too?

'Porn is the leading cause in abuse towards women!' Okay, even if that was true -- which it isn't -- what about the erotica that... doesn't involve women whatsoever?

'Young people who are exposed to porn get their brains warped and think that that's what sex is in real life~!' Isn't that more a problem stemming from a lack of unbiased/unimposed sexual-education programs in American schools?

'If people see something in erotic material, they'll think it's okay to try in real life~!' Go watch Quills.

'Women and teenage girls shouldn't be exposing their delicate minds to such filth!' Okay, ignoring the fact that teenagers shouldn't be in adult spaces anyway, wow you just... said the quiet part out loud, there, didn't you?

'If 18+ material wasn't so dangerous, why would the big credit card companies want to ban it~?' The core reason why credit card companies claim to be against 18+ content is because 'Adult Content has a higher rate of chargebacks than other purchases'. It has nothing to do with dangers and, really, I'm certain that the numbers don't eve add up so, in reality, it's the big credit card companies trying to be authoritarian and police the private lives of grown people.

Something that everyone should be against but, you know... Porn is 'icky' so actions like these are seen as 'based' for certain camps.

[yuri-is-online]

Another Beautiful Day (First Years x Yuu)

(gif taken from google, originally uploaded to tumblr but user apparently deleted)

You have been having strange dreams lately. Every time you go to sleep you se the same set of flashing images, a carriage ride, a crumbling castle under a ink stained sky, ending in the jaws of a monster. The pain you feel from the flames makes you wonder, on nights when you are alone in Ramshackle with Grim, if those dreams are less fiction and more of a memory.

You are not the only one who has those dreams. There's another, laying awake in his bed, hand clutched tightly over his frantically beating heart trying desperately to hold the fraying edges of his sanity together. How many times has he done this? How many times has he tried to hold onto the last fleeting traces of warmth in you with his cold, unworthy hands.

Again. He loves you, that is the one thing that refuses to change no matter how many times the world is reset. He loves you, he has no choice but to try again.

notes: they/them pronouns used for Yuu, hurt almost no comfort, borderline yandere behavior. If this made you feel something you can check out the other parts on my masterlist.

Ace

There was, perhaps still is, a pretty viral theory about Ace being a traitor involved in resetting time. While I can't ever see Ace purposefully causing Yuu's death ever, I can see him deciding that if he has to play the villain to get the outcome that he wants, well then, that's just what he's going to have to do. Ace knows how to annoy people, comes with the youngest child territory, more specifically he knows how to annoy you. He can stand having no one if it means everyone's focus is on keeping you safe, it's easier to admit that he loves you when no one's around to hear it. It occurs to you that he might, it even crosses your mind that the strange dreams your time-loop troubled subconscious is so desperate to hang onto, ones where you are with someone you love dearly, could be about him. How else would he know how to push all your buttons, why else does he always know when and where you'll be in trouble. If Ace doesn't love you, why does he know all the things you like about this world before you do? It's a painful thing to be known, even more so if the person who knows you refuses to let themselves be vulnerable with you. The more things change the more they stay the same... huh?

Deuce

Ever watched Tokyo Revenges? I know some of you have, I can see you. Anyway Deuce might not be a crybaby but he is loyal, determined, and stuck on desperately trying to save you. Well not just you, Deuce realizes that Overblot Grim spells doom for a lot more people that just those inside NRC. Sage's island might be remote, but people still live there, if the monster got out who knows what sort of damage it will do? He tries his best to be normal around you, to befriend you and protect you in just the same way he did before, but he's a much more serious and moody person than he was the first loop around. How is he supposed to explain to you he couldn't save you, that he's watched you die countless times and only had ashes to hold and cry over? Not just you either, he's seen Ace and Epel and Jack, hell even Sebek, Die over and over again because he wasn't smart enough to stop it. Ace manages to pick up on something being wrong, and Deuce being Deuce he fails to lie properly, "dragging him into his mess." But he can tell Ace doesn't mind. He takes his impending doom as a challenge, encouraging Deuce to do so as well. He's stupid, he should just give up and let someone smarter save you. But he's your stupid, kind of crybaby hero. He'll save you, just you see.

Jack

Trying to save you is as much an instinct to Jack as it is raw emotion. You are his soulmate, there is nothing casual about his investment in your relationship, nothing short of divine intervention that will keep him from trying to save you. But he will admit he feels rather unprepared for this... development. It's all well and good to say you will break reality before he lets it take you from him, but actually being strong enough to do that? Jack's a good boy, but no matter how smart he is he's a bit of a muscle head. He throws himself into problems fist first, without any back up unless someone yanks him by the scruff and forces him to look at it. Usually that's you, sometimes it's Ruggie or Leona, but in the past it was you. He knows he can't keep himself from you, even if that could make you safer. Unlike the first timeline, he makes sure to introduce himself as early as possible, makes sure to be with you for every overblot. You might find it annoying but he'll push you to train just enough so that you'll have the speed to run when the final monster comes. Maybe this time, he'll be strong enough to kill it before it catches up to you.

Epel

Sleep Kiss cannot put you to sleep forever. Yet. Yes yet, Malleus isn't the only one who thinks letting you nap forever is a good idea. Great minds think alike, and unlike Malleus's, Epel has an added bonus. He can encase you in a glass cage that is literally meant to protect you from anything that wants to hurt you. Not that you would ever expect this plan from Epel. He's cute, kind, non-threatening when you're paying attention, the most you see of his temper as the loops continue is the slightly bratty glare he focuses on pre-overblot housewardens. And the headmage, but hey any anger at him always gets a pass from him. Not that you need to worry about that, once Epel masters his spell you won't have to worry about anything. He does wonder if you'll be able to dream, the first time he cast his spell on you it was like you didn't realize anything had happened at all. Maybe he won't tell you anything, maybe he'll wake you up every once and a while to convince you that you were never asleep at all. But that's not a concern for now, all you need to do is close your eyes and sleep. Sleep and wait for your Prince to return from the war.

Sebek

Following the current timeline, events aside, Sebek is on the outside of your friend group. No one likes him, he can't sit with you. The only real reason Sebek has to pay attention to you is because Malleus does. And he has to admit he doesn't exactly hate what he sees, he just- doesn't want to give credit to a human. When time is re-set though, he goes out of his way to befriend you, convinced he needs to keep an eye on you to save his lord. After all, how could he not find it suspicious that Malleus befriends some random human from not-Twisted Wonderland and then suddenly overblots? He is ready to strike at the first sign of betrayal, but he does not find it. He finds a human, weak and flawed, but paitent and kind with him, unwilling to let him talk down to them but still willing to talk. You die, but you never stop trying. You refuse to let the flaws he picks at stop you from trying to live. You refuse, no matter how many times he yells about the amount of times he has lost his lord, lost you, to let him do all the work alone. There is beauty in your struggle, in your life. He can't betray this for his lord, even if it was the cause of his plight. It's Silver he turns to for help, begging him for guidance through tears as he desperately clings to you. He finds it of course, he never had to do any of this alone, but he should know by now that doesn't guarantee success, no matter how much he wants it to.

[flowerandblood]

Robbed and gifted (2/6)

[ arranged marriage • modern!Aemond x female ]

[ warnings: mention of sex and cheating, fluff ]

[description: (Anon Request) She and Aemond are faced with a situation, where they must form a fictitious marriage. They are complete strangers to each other, who cannot find themselves in a new reality. When his wife stands up for him at a family dinner, something changes between them. Smut, angst and a lot of sexual tension.]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Previous and next chapters: Masterlist

_____

Aemond woke up feeling more guilty than ever. He cheated on his longtime partner. He wanted to justify himself with alcohol, but he knew that he wasn't drunk then. No matter how he looked at it, he wasn't seduced either.

He put his hand in between her thighs, he literally threw himself on her like an animal and even though he assured her that he would stop, he didn't.

The truth was he'd been frustrated ever since he'd seen her at the Registry Office. He hoped to see an empty, defiantly painted, stupid girl who only wanted his money and his family's company.

When he saw her he thought painfully, that she looked surprisingly normal. She was pretty, had a soft face and large eyes, with a pleasant figure. She looked pale and ashamed, just like him.

When she came to his apartment to ruin his life, he felt like he was going to lose his mind. He was a loner, his apartment was his sanctuary and cave, even Alys he brought there reluctantly, preferring to meet at her house.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a stranger entered his private space, took one of his rooms, making him no longer feel at home. The first nights he went to Alys because he couldn't stand it.

"What is she like?" Alys asked, looking at him with a slight, rakish smile, seeing his frustration as she took a swig from her glass. He rolled his eye, frustrated that he was bringing up the subject again.

"I don't know. We don't talk." He said coolly, toying with his glass in his hand. Alys giggled, running her long fingers along his arm.

"Should I be worried about her?" She asked softly, almost in a whisper, sensually. He swallowed harder at the sound of her voice, feeling the desire.

"Don't be silly." He murmured as slid his hand into her hair, pulling her firmly against him, pressing his lips against hers.

After a few days, however, he needed to work in peace, and being in Alys's apartment he couldn't concentrate. He went back to his apartment, resigned.

He agreed to all this only for his father. Because his father asked him for something for the first time in his life. Before, Aemond had felt like he might not exist to him.

Of course he talked to him, but just like to everyone else. He didn't understand when other parents said, that their children were special to them. He didn't know what that meant.

If he was special to anyone, it was Alys.

When he got up and saw her in the kitchen, he wanted to back out. He decided he couldn't be that oversensitive, and he wanted a cup of coffee anyway.

He walked over to her, pretending not to see her and the pile of sandwiches that she had prepared for them. He knew that she was already thinking something up in her head, and he didn't like it. However, it was the remark about her college that unnerved him.

As was his habit, he blurted out his words faster than he thought. He locked himself in his office, sat down in front of his desk, and ran his hand over his face.

He knew full well that he was taking it out on her. Even if she did it for money, no one forced him either - he could refuse.

He immediately felt remorse.

He even considered standing up and apologizing her for the outburst, pointing out that any warming of relations between them was not real for him.

However, she herself made his task easier by closing herself completely, disappearing from his line of sight. He felt like he was living alone again.

He tried to pretend to be content and indifferent, but he knew that he was treating her like an unwanted dog that he had locked in one of the rooms and pretended, that she wasn't there. He knew that she didn't deserve it, but he didn't do anything about it.

When his father invited them to dinner, he knew he couldn't refuse. He wanted to vomit at the thought that they both had to pretend, or worse, that something might come out. There was nothing he could do.

They went there together.

He didn't know what possessed him to put his hand on her thigh. He decided that since he hardly said anything to her or looked at her, he had to at least physically pretend that there was any closeness between them. He tried not to think about how warm and soft her skin felt under his fingers, how close his hand was to her panties.

For some reason she was wearing a dress without wearing a bra, which immediately caught his attention. She looked pretty and girlish, the complete opposite of his gloomy and mutilated appearance. He thought that in normal life she would never look at him, and the thought made his lips tighten.

When his father said out loud, in front of the whole family, that he wasn't dedicating himself to the company as much as he should have, he wanted to burst out laughing.

Something inside him snapped then, and he was on the verge of doing or saying something very, very bad. When his wife spoke suddenly with a certainty and directness that he had never seen before, he was completely stunned.

Alys, though so faithful and devoted to him, would never speak to his father that way, because she would lose her job.

She wouldn't risk her good position for him.

He told himself that he didn't blame her, that she was older than him and had a right to stability, not wanting to take a risk. For some reason he felt pain, that the only person who had publicly defended him from his father was a complete stranger. The thought broke him.

He thought about it all the way back to the apartment. He thought that maybe she was right. Maybe he demonized her too much, wanting to personalize her as the source of all his problems when, in fact, it had always been his father.

He decided that at least he would try to treat her more gently, like a colleague from work who rented a room with him.

That at least he owes her that much.

When she told him about her mother, how she'd pretended that she didn't exist, something snapped inside him once again that evening. He felt that he had to touch her.

That he had feel her.

He fucked her so greedily that he couldn't breathe and she moaned so sweetly, her body tightening around him so wonderfully, that he just came inside her. He forgot about Alys, about his father, about everything.

Then he realized what he had done and locked himself in his bedroom again. He got into bed and just lay there, staring at the ceiling. He wondered how he could do this to Alys.

He had never cheated on her before, never even thought about it. Although they often went to business banquets where there were plenty of pretty, rich girls, he was never tempted by them, feeling their vanity.

He couldn't get the smell of her hair out of his nose, her sweat, her sweet perfume that she had to use before leaving for dinner.

He couldn't forget how hot her thighs and insides felt as he slid inside her, how tight her fleshy walls pressed against him, how fervently she responded to his every thrust. He felt despairingly as his cock throbbed painfully hard in his pants.

He wanted to cry.

In the morning he heard her softly open the door and go into the kitchen. He heard the sound of the fridge opening. He wondered if she would try to talk him into having breakfast with him again. He knew he would not agree.

But she didn't do anything like that. He heard her silently shut herself back into her room a few minutes later. He decided that he had to get up now if he didn't want to be late for work.

This time he went out, took a quick shower and made himself some coffee. He found himself glancing at her room door from the middle of the living room, but she didn't come out to talk to him. He wondered if she was as devastated by what had happened between them as he was.

Resigned, he drove to the office feeling terrible. He thought that he had to tell Alys everything or he would go crazy. He decided that she knew him well enough to see immediately that something was wrong.

He thought of himself so far that he was a good partner and a man. That although he was good at it. It turned out, that he was also crippled in this regard.

He entered the bank's office building, tapping his card, the automatic door beeping open for him. Aegon greeted him inside, hungover as usual, pressing a cold bottle from the vending machine to his forehead. When he saw him, he smiled at him.

“Oh, this is our lucky newlywed. Although your wife has balls in this relationship." He said with a smile as he sat up with a hiss, clutching his head.

"Fuck, my head is about to burst." He spoke low, but Aemond said nothing at all to his words.

He opened his laptop and sighed as he saw ten new e-mails. He was annoyed to see that some of them were Aegon customers, who had been unable to reach him.

"Would you mind finally doing your job, instead of drinking yourself to death every night?" He hissed as he sat down at his desk, going through the papers that his assistant had just laid out for him moments earlier. Aegon rolled his eyes at his words.

"Once you talk to them, once I talk to them, it's teamwork." He said lightly, and Aemond looked him up and down.

He opened his mouth to tell him what he thought of him, but saw Alys through the glass wall walking down the hall. She smiled at him and waved at him. He felt a tightness in his pit. Aegon spoke up, amused.

"Does your wife know that you're fucking her? Or do you do triangles? You'd invite your brother, wouldn't you?" He asked, but Aemond just got up and walked past him, following her out.

He caught up with Alys, and she looked at him, surprised. They determined that they behaved professionally in the office and tried not to talk to each other, with small exceptions for sex in the toilet.

"I want to talk to you. In private." He said low, his jaw clenched. Alys frowned at his tension.

"Something happened?" She asked, looking around.

Aemond took her by the arm, and they both entered one of the storerooms. He closed the door behind him, leaned against a metal bookcase and ran his hands over his face, sighing heavily. Alys looked at him expectantly. He thought it was pathetic, but he wanted to cry.

"I slept with her." He whispered without looking at her, his face still buried in his hands. He heard her inhale sharply. She stopped with her arms folded, he heard her breathing differently.

"She seduced you?" She asked, her voice trembling slightly. He swallowed loudly. He couldn't get the words out that were burning in his throat.

“No.”

There was a long, awkward silence between them. He glanced quickly at Alys and saw that her full, lightly colored lips were twitching slightly.

He couldn't bear to see her suffer.

He knew that he had hurt her.

"Is that all you have to say to me?" She asked and laughed under her breath, but it was laughter through tears. He looked at her with pain.

"I don't know what possessed me." He said, but immediately heard how pathetic it sounded. She shook her head at his words.

"Something possessed you? A demon entered you and suddenly when you regained consciousness, you fucked her?” She asked in pain, trying not to cry, covering her mouth with her hand.

She ran a finger through her lashes, not wanting her makeup to smear. Her entire body was trembling. He didn't dare touch her.

"Why? Because she's younger and prettier?" She asked, and he squeezed his eye shut, feeling that he was about to cry himself.

"No." He whispered weakly, exhaling loudly, feeling he was out of breath. She stared at him in disbelief.

"Can you promise me that this will never happen again? Will you divorce her and it will be as it used to be?" She asked, standing with her arms folded. He cleared his throat, running his hand over his chin.

“In two years this marriage will no longer exist. I promise." He whispered, looking pleadingly at her. Alys pursed her lips.

"Are you kidding me?" She asked in a trembling voice. "Aren't you going to divorce her now?"

Aemond stared at her wide-eyed, completely stunned. He closed and opened his mouth, not knowing what to say.

"You know … you know, what I agreed with my father." He mumbled.

"And what have you agreed with me? It doesn't mean anything anymore? You promised!" She said covering her face.

She shook her head, walked past him and left the room, leaving him alone. He squeezed his eye shut, leaning the back of his head against the bookshelf, trying his best not to start sobbing like a baby.

After work, he returned home. Alys didn't answer his calls, he knew, that she didn't want to see him. The truth was he didn't even have the strength to apologize to her or fight for her forgiveness. He thought it was pathetic, but he decided to leave it like that for now.

When he entered the apartment, he saw that the light was on in the kitchen. He shuddered at the thought that she was there, that they would look at each other for the first time since the thankless night of yesterday.

He walked slowly into the living room, glancing towards the kitchen. He saw her big, frightened eyes, her pursed lips and pale face. She was wearing a crop top and shorts, her hair loose and slightly damp, as if she had just taken a shower. He thought that she'd taken a bath before he got home, so she wouldn't run into him.

"You came back early." She spoke softly, her voice trembling slightly. She sounded like she was explaining why he'd seen her at all.

"I'm going to finish making dinner and go to my room in a minute. It's cauliflower soup, if you feel like it, help yourself." She said, swallowing hard as she turned back to the pot.

He looked at her impassively. Her long, shapely legs, soft, shiny hair. He smelled her shampoo again in his nose, the same smell that he had felt yesterday when he fucked her. He felt his manhood pulse again in his pants.

He thought that he was distraught and desperate.

He had no strength left.

He approached her slowly, saying nothing. She looked at him in surprise over her shoulder, he saw her purse her lips and blush slightly, embarrassed, dropping her gaze. He knew that she was embarrassed by what had happened between them. She couldn't even look at him.

He felt her draw in a sharp breath and jump in place as he wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, pressing his face against her hair. He felt the warmth of her body, her ass against his hard cock, the scent of her hair and her skin filling his chest again.

He wondered what he was doing, but decided that he just wanted affection. He knew for some reason that she could give him what he needed, and he flocked to her like a moth to a light.

"It's been a terrible, terrible day." He whispered softly, tired and resigned.

He felt her body tremble before him, her breathing ragged. He knew that she felt how hard he was. He heard her swallow loudly. He felt a pleasant shiver as she placed her small hand on his, stroking it gently.

"I know." She whispered just as softly, and for some reason that two words, that warmth that came from her lips, her understanding of his condition made him cry.

He began to sob quietly, unable to stop himself, squeezing his eye tightly. He felt her flinch, all scared. She wanted to turn to him but he wouldn't let her.

He buried his face in her hair, hugging her so tightly, that he felt as if he would strangle her. She wrapped her arms around his, stroking them soothingly.

"Shhh. I know." She said, her voice breaking on the last word.

Only when he heard her quiet sobs did he let her turn towards him, all red with tears, snuggle into his chest. She hugged him so tight that he was out of breath. He threaded his hands into her hair, her fingers tightening on the fabric of his shirt. He pressed his face against her neck, letting his disappointment and tension flow for the first time in many years.

He cried, because he realized that despite having made such a great sacrifice, he had not earned his father's love and respect. His father tricked him by waving it in his face.

He cried, because he had hurt Alys, but he knew,that it wasn't the betrayal that hurt her the most. He couldn't assure her that it wouldn't happen again, because he wasn't sure what was going on between them.

He could imagine the next day with her, but not their old age together. Not their children. He put off getting engaged until he married a total stranger and made her watch.

He cried, because he was overloaded with work and couldn't keep up anymore. He wanted someone to help him, but neither Aegon nor Helaena could do that for him.

Helaena was even mentally weaker than him, and Aegon was totally fucked. Jace and Luke were triumphant, but only because Daemon was putting things under their noses. They never worked for anything on their own, like he did.

He grabbed her by the hips and slowly carried her towards his bedroom. She wrapped her legs around his waist, sniffling loudly, and looked around the room in shock. She couldn't see much from crying, everything was blurry.

Aemond placed her on his bed and lay down next to her. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her to his chest, burying his nose in her hair, stroking her head reassuringly.

He knew that she was crying now too, for her own reasons. He knew that he was one of them. He kissed her forehead, pressing her body tighter against him, wanting to feel her as much as possible.

"Sleep with me tonight."

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @astral-blossoms @randomdragonfires @amirawritespoorly @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes @darylandbethfanforever9 @fudge13

Others: @thedamewithabook @godrakin @snh96 @statixcane @toodlesxcuddles

[misshoneyimhome]

But with three of us, honey, it's a sideshow I William Nylander & Matthew Knies - Part two

Summary; A quote by Hector Urquhart goes "One man's rubbish may be another's treasure" - however, what happens, when the first man realises that it wasn't rubbish after all?

Other notes: Alrighty babes, so here's the continuation (yes, there will be a part three) of the threesome drama I've been imagining 🙃 And if you notice me alternating between the good guy and the bad guy, it's because I'm debating with myself along the way 😉 Anyway, I hope you still find it enjoyable 🤍

Tropes & Warnings; William Nylander x Matthew Knies x reader, Friends to lovers; jealousy; 18+ smut; fingering, protected penetrative sex (p in v); bloody nose, mild "fighting";

Word count; 6.2K+

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50 @findapenny @justwanderingbutneverlost @Fortheloveofnylander

➼｡ﾟ

The game against the Tampa Bay Lightning turned out to be incredibly frustrating and verging on awful for the Leafs. They just didn’t perform at their best, and the Lightning quickly gained the upper hand. Only Auston’s power play goals offered a glimmer of hope for the team, but it was short-lived as they struggled to coordinate effectively.

And what was particularly evident to everyone, especially the team's coaching staff, was the lack of teamwork between players 88 and 23. So, as the game ended with a 4-1 loss for the Leafs, Coach Keefe wasted no time in pulling the two players aside in the corridor.

“I don’t know what the fuck is going on between you two… but whatever it is, you better fucking sort it out and stop behaving like spoiled kids.”

“Yes coach…” 

“Sorry, coach…”

It was a stern reprimand, but a necessary one. While neither player had intentionally avoided each other on the ice, their subconscious actions had influenced their performance, which was unacceptable at their level of play.

So, as they stood there in the Scotiabank Arena corridor, exchanging glances, they understood that they had to address the issue. Their focus had to be on the game, and no personal matters should interfere. However, putting this into practice would prove to be much easier said than done.

Once both lads had changed into their regular attire and left the locker room to greet the gathered family and friends, they purposefully avoided you. Not out of desire, but out of necessity.

You seemed to be a source of disruption for both of them, and at that moment, they needed to clear their minds and concentrate on hockey. With the playoffs looming closer, both of them had much to demonstrate.

And in truth, you didn’t mind the avoidance. You weren’t inclined to confront either of them, so the lingering silence among the three of you created a strangely calming atmosphere for the already lacklustre evening.

Even in the subsequent two days, there was minimal communication from both players, leaving you feeling somewhat unsettled. Unsure of the nature of their exchange, you contemplated initiating a conversation, but instead, you welcomed the drama-free days, immersing yourself in work and sidestepping your own conflicting emotions.

However, that all changed when you were picking up your favourite coffee at the quaint nearby café you frequented, and you turned around only to find William's handsome face before you.

“Willy,” you gasped, feeling a sense of déjà vu as if history were repeating itself with his unexpected appearance.

“Hey y/n,” he spoke softly, a charming smile playing on his lips.

“What are you doing here?” you asked tentatively, aware that this wasn’t exactly his usual haunt, though close enough for him to drop by easily.

William chuckled lightly, shrugging as he gestured towards his hands in his pockets. “Just passing by, taking the dogs for a walk,” he nodded towards the window, where you spotted Pablo and Banksy tied up outside, patiently awaiting their owner.

“Oh,” you simply replied, surprised by the slight prickle of disappointment that flickered in your heart.

“And... I sort of... was hoping to bump into you,” William admitted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck as he avoided meeting your gaze.

And just like that, the disappointment swiftly faded, replaced by a small smile that crept onto your lips. You couldn’t quite pinpoint why this moment held such significance for you, but seeing William here, making an effort to find you on a Tuesday before the match later, warmed something inside you.

“Oh,” you responded with a gentle smile, still standing amidst the quiet of the small coffee shop. Fortunately, there were few people around, given that it was just before the afternoon rush. “Why... why were you hoping to see me?” you asked softly, the curiosity evident in your voice.

“Well, uh... I mean... I think I just... I just wanted to apologise... for being distant and all...” William began, his tone hesitant as he tried to collect his thoughts and find the best way to express himself. Then taking a deep breath, he timidly continued, “Listen, y/n... I know you’ve started something with Kniesy, and... that you’re happy, but... I’ve come to realise that lately, I’ve just been missing you a lot, and, I know, it’s a pretty mad and shitty thing to do, but... I just know that I really like you  - and I’d hate myself if I didn’t tell you that… I guess I’m sort of... maybe, in love or something…” William released a heavy sigh of relief. “I’m not trying to come between you two, but... at least now you know... sorry.”

You couldn’t believe it. Was he truly serious right now? Just when you were finally making an effort to move on from him, to try and bury the wonderful moments you’d shared, he drops this bombshell.

Lost for words, your eyes nearly glistened as your mind waged an internal battle between wanting to punch him and wanting to kiss him. But instead, you remained still, managing only a soft voice.

“Yeah... this is a pretty shitty thing to do, Willy,” you said, mustering half a smile. “Where was all of this last year?”

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, his apology sincere. “I guess I was just so focused on hockey that... I didn’t want to risk, you know, feelings messing with it…” he admitted with another sigh. “But as it turns out, they did anyway... and now I fear I’ve lost you for good.”

You had to swallow hard as you noticed the sincerity in his eyes, and you couldn’t deny that his words made your heart sink in your chest. Taking a deep breath, you tried to find the best words to navigate this difficult situation.

“Willy, you could never lose me for good,” you whispered. “But... I didn’t need to see you with someone else to know I liked you... and now, I’m just worried that the only reason you feel this way is because of Kniesy…”

A part of you resisted believing that this was true, but you’d been hurt enough times before to know this seemed like the most likely explanation.

“Y/n, I swear... I mean, seeing you with him did make me realise it, but…” William struggled to find the right words. “It’s not about him... it’s about you. And the other night, when you called me because you were scared... it just hit me how much you really mean to me… But if you say you don’t feel anything for me and you want me to stay away…. Then I promise I will…”

Once again, you found yourself unable to reply, your breath caught in your throat as he left you breathless. His hold over you was a mystery, and you knew he was tearing you apart. Yet, your heart raced as his mesmerising eyes locked with yours and his smile erased all logic in an instant.

“Anyway… I just, uh... I guess I just wanted to tell you that… so, I’ll see you around…”

And with that, he left you in turmoil, your thoughts swirling as you remained breathless and undone. “Fuck...” you muttered under your breath as you watched him casually stroll away with his doodles by his side.

_

William Nylander had you completely captivated, and no amount of work could distract you from thoughts of him. His name and face seemed to follow you everywhere, whether on the street, social media, or the radio. And it made sense—he was a hockey star in Toronto, having one of the best seasons of his career, and naturally, he was receiving all the attention he deserved.

And every time you caught sight of his handsome Swedish face; a quiet ‘fuck’ would escape your lips.

But what truly caused the ache was the fact that your heart was torn in two, and you knew you had to confront it. Ignoring it wouldn't make it disappear, especially since both William and Matthew were part of your inner circle of friends, and you would soon see them both again.

And with the playoffs drawing nearer, the players' focus would soon be solely on that, and for good reason. While they had almost secured their spot to advance, the real challenge lay ahead.

So, as you headed to Matthew’s apartment on a fateful Friday evening for a casual dinner and a movie, your hidden agenda was to resolve things. At least within yourself. You knew you had feelings for him, but a part of you couldn’t let go of William either, and you didn’t want to be unfair to Matthew. In your mind, he deserved only the best, and right now, you couldn’t provide that.

“Hey,” he greeted you with a broad smile as he opened the front door, and immediately, you couldn’t help but return the smile. Despite rehearsing how you would approach the situation on your way there, he completely flipped the script as you stepped into his cosy apartment and saw that he had already prepared, or attempted to prepare, dinner. The dining table was set with a cloth and fake candle lights, almost like the most romantic gesture a man had ever made for you. And your heart swelled in that moment.

“Matts…” you breathed softly, wide-eyed, and breathless as you stood frozen in place. “You didn’t have to do this…”

You were taken aback. He was being so sweet that suddenly, all the rational thoughts about ending things slowly faded into the background of your mind.

“I know I didn’t…” Matthew chuckled lightly as he came to stand gently behind you, softly caressing your arms as he smoothly helped you out of your coat. “But I wanted to.”

Matthew Knies wasn’t particularly an expert about romance. In fact, he was a rather typical young boyish lad, with hockey and hanging out with his teammates occupying his thoughts. However, ever since you’d entered the picture, a small part of him wanted to explore the realm of romance. You seemed more mature, with your life seemingly in order and possessing a strong mind - and he wanted to impress you.

So, drawing from his limited experience in past relationships, he saw the chance to woo you in a way he believed William wouldn’t. Recognising that his Swedish teammate had already captured your affection with his sexual talents, charming personality, and grounded demeanour, Matthew decided to take a different approach. He thought that his own mix of youthful innocence yet mature demeanour could work in his favour—romantic gestures with a hint of flirtation.

And it was working.

As the evening slowly unfolded, you found yourself swiftly enchanted by Matthew's charm as you savoured the delightful dinner. Sure, perhaps the culinary skills could have been improved, but that wasn’t the crux of the matter. The important part of the evening lay in the effort Matthew had invested in it all.

And soon, both of you were immersed in hearty laughter, exchanging jokes and interests as you had done countless times before. In that very moment, he was the most important person in your life—someone with whom you could truly be yourself and unwind. His company required little social energy, and it suited you perfectly.

However, as you finished dining and began to clear the table together, what should have been a simple and innocent task took on a more sensual tone. With gentle touches as you manoeuvred around the small kitchen, occasionally brushing against each other and sharing giggles, it was inevitable that the movie night would carry a certain level of sexual tension. 

You tried to maintain your composure, really, you did. However, as Matthew tenderly enveloped you in his strong arm, drawing you nearer to his large, comforting frame while lounging on the sofa, you couldn’t resist the yearning inside you.

The memory of the pleasurable sensation of his lips was all too vivid, and soon enough, you found yourself back in his embrace, your mouths meeting as your fingers tangled in his hair and your tongues intertwined.

It was intense and brimming with desire as you straddled his lap, your body moving against his in a sensual rhythm as his hands explored your form.

Matthew was undeniably attractive, that much was certain. But this wasn’t part of the plan. You weren’t supposed to feel this exhilarated with his chest against yours, your hips moving against him as if your primal instincts had taken control.

No, you were supposed to end things. To explain to him that he deserved someone fully committed to him, not torn in two.

Yet, as you delved deeper into the passionate kiss, there was no room for such thoughts.

Instead, you were consumed by pleasure, gripping his brown locks tighter as he nibbled your lower lip and sighed softly into the kiss.

To be fair, this hadn’t been Matthew’s plan either. He had simply wanted to impress you with a romantic dinner. Yet he didn’t exactly protest when he felt you responding to him. In fact, he felt rather pleased about it, sensing your longing for him as much as he longed for you. Perhaps he had secretly hoped for this to happen, yet he didn’t want to get his hopes up too high, knowing you still had feelings for someone else.

But the moment your lips were locked in a passionate kiss, Matthew’s worries about William faded into insignificance, and his sole desire was for you.

The sensation of your body pressed against his surpassed anything he had imagined. And though he had experienced a glimpse of it before, tonight, he yearned for more, his hard member, evident in the bulge in his trousers, betrayed his most fervent desires.

The small living room was growing warmer with each passing moment, almost overwhelming you as your body yearned for more than just his lips. And when you finally pulled apart to catch your breath, your eyes locked in a lustful gaze, both exhaling deeply as you contemplated what would happen next.

You couldn’t resist the pull towards him. With your core throbbing between your legs and feeling his bulge pressing against you, you lacked the willpower to resist the situation.

And while Matthew took a moment to think it over as well before proceeding, there was no doubt about his desires.

So, summoning the courage, he had gathered from their romantic dinner, he gently tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as he spoke softly.

“Want to… go upstairs?”

His voice remained steady, devoid of any trace of insecurity, which only fuelled your desire for him. And with a soft smile and a teasing bite to your lower lip, you nodded, encouraging him to effortlessly lift you into his arms and carry you upstairs to his bedroom.

The touch of the younger hockey player was nothing short of exquisite. The way his lips lingered on yours as he eased you onto the mattress was pure bliss. His hands on your curves were both firm and gentle as he explored every contour, slowly undressing you.

In return, you took the initiative to remove his t-shirt, unbuckle his belt, and slide down his jeans. Matthew's physique was simply impressive. His toned torso resembled that of a Greek god, with broad shoulders and hips that were nothing short of captivating.

Likewise, he admired your body as you lounged before him in your underwear. The light blue lace complemented your skin beautifully, while your bra provided just the right amount of support without distorting the natural size of your breasts. Your hips formed a graceful curve, your thighs exuding strength. And as his gaze devoured every inch of you, he couldn't help but lick his lips in anticipation.

Then with a playful smirk, Matthew leaned in for a quick kiss before kneeling back and slowly pulling down your panties, revealing your core to him. And it was a delightful surprise for him to feel your wetness, as he wasted no time in stroking his thick fingers along your folds, preparing you for the pleasure to come.

And it felt good. A soft gasp then escaped your lips as Matthew allowed his fingers to gently penetrate you, stretching you slowly, while your toes curled into the sheets beneath you, and soft moans spilled from your lips as ecstasy washed over you.

The hockey player was utterly captivated by the array of expressions crossing your face as he skilfully massaged your inner walls, surprised by how much pleasure it brought him to please you. Yet, beneath it all, he felt a deeper longing to feel his own length buried within you. The mere sensation of his fingers enveloped by your tightness and warmth caused him to already drip with pre-cum in his boxers. So, with gentle care, he withdrew his fingers before discarding his final piece of clothing.

Matthew was a big boy, much as you had anticipated even before seeing him naked. And as you saw his long and thick member, hard and proud, you were relieved he had used his fingers first. In comparison to William, his proportions were likely similar in scale, but Matthew stood a little taller and broader, so his member naturally slightly larger.

Then rising from the mattress, you couldn’t tear your eyes away from him as he carefully rolled a condom onto his shaft, your anticipation nearly palpable as you longed to be filled and stimulated. And fortunately, you didn’t have to wait long.

Drawing you into another kiss, Matthew reignited the fire between you, gently parting your legs as he removed your bra, his hands tenderly exploring your rounded breasts. Meanwhile, your fingers threaded through his hair as you pulled him in for a deeper kiss, the mutual longing for the final act palpable between you.

And then, a surge of confidence coursed through you. Biting his lip, you signalled for him to lie back, to which he complied. You weren’t typically the dominant type in bed, but given that Matthew entirely wasn’t either, at least not with you, you seized the opportunity to take control.

So, straddling his hips, you gently guided his cock between your folds, riding it a few times while supporting yourself on his chest. Then, with careful precision, you positioned the tip at your entrance and pressed it in slowly. Gasping, you allowed him to stretch you as you relied on your legs for support, sinking down a little before rising back up, repeating the motion until he was fully inside you.

“Oh, fuck, Matts,” you cried as he filled you completely. He was definitely bigger than William, although lacking the slight curve that would hit your sensitive spot every time.

But as soon as you had adjusted to his size, you gently began to rock your hips, his shaft sliding in and out of your moist cunt with each sensual movement.

Moans filled the room as pleasure engulfed both of you, Matthew's hands finding your hips for support as your tightness brought him a little closer to climax sooner than he expected. But he couldn’t resist the intense sensations. You felt incredible around him, and the faster you rode him, the louder his moans grew, and the nearer he came to the edge.

And it was gratifying to watch him pant beneath you, his eyes occasionally fluttering shut and his breath erratic as he struggled to maintain composure. You sensed his climax approaching, mirroring the impending arrival of your own.

So, with the orgasm building in your stomach, you increased your pace, your fingers digging into his chest while your breaths mimicked his—panting and gasping in unison.

Though it didn’t flow as smoothly and naturally as it had with William, it was still pleasurable. Matthew felt good inside you, and his physique was impressive. Yet, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. With William, there had been a sense of fluidity, effortlessly moving around and smiling as he brought you to climax.

With Matthew, it required more effort. You had to focus on riding him and bringing yourself closer to orgasm. Even his thumb on your clit didn’t quite get you there, and after a short while, you started to worry that you wouldn’t reach the peak you desired.

However, everything changed when Matthew grew more eager, suddenly flipping you over into missionary position. With his hands on either side of your head, he picked up a faster and harder pace, thrusting into you deeply.

And at this point, the intensity was overwhelming. His large cock overstimulated your walls as he pounded into you with quick and passionate motions. Your hands instinctively grasped the back of his shoulders, your legs wrapping around his lower back as euphoria consumed you entirely. Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head, your nails digging deep into his shoulder blades as your climax now quickly approached.

It was more fervent and eager than it had been with William, perhaps a bit less refined compared to the older hockey player's skill and experience, yet it felt surprisingly satisfying. Your moans were loud cries mixed with whines of pleasure, and you found your fingers digging deeper than you intended.

But in that moment, neither of you cared. Matthew's mind was entirely consumed by the intensity of the moment, his deep gasps punctuating each eager thrust as he knew he was nearing climax. Despite his desire for a more romantic encounter, your tightness around him was too much to resist.

And with a few final hard pounds, he let out a deep grunt as he released himself, thrusting one last time and pushing you over the edge as well. Loud moans, almost screams, filled the room as both of you reached your peaks, yet the rush of orgasm didn’t linger as long as it had after your encounters with William.

Stop it, you reminded yourself. You couldn’t keep comparing the two.

You had to push every thought of William out of your head as you slowly came down from the high, your mind emerging from the blur as Matthew gently withdrew from you. And despite feeling a twinge of guilt when Matthew returned from the bathroom and pulled you in for a cuddle on the warm, steamed mattress, you pushed it aside.

The fervent and intense sex had shifted back to the romantic and sweet atmosphere that had characterised the beginning of your evening, with Matthew turning to face you, gently stroking your features as he admired your beauty.

Lying on your sides, you let the soft moment linger, the scent of sweat and sex filling the bedroom as you simply enjoyed his tender touches and the comforting atmosphere. And though you had briefly felt guilty, Matthew had a knack for washing away all concerns. In his arms, you felt safe and content, and there was no reason to feel guilty about that. Especially not considering the outcome of your casual relationship with William Nylander, who, for the record, had been the one to avoid any progression into a more serious relationship, and then had the audacity to confess his feelings for you months later, when it was too late.

No, Matthew Knies was different. He was sweet, kind, gentle, and caring. He showed his emotions openly, despite the looming playoffs. He wasn’t afraid of love like William had been, and since you weren’t either, being with him felt incredibly fulfilling.

It should have been a no-brainer.

Matthew embodied everything desirable in a potential partner, despite his younger age. While he may have been slightly less mature, it wasn’t as pronounced as many would assume.

But William had left his mark on you so deeply. It felt as if he had poisoned your mind and heart, his influence spreading through your veins like venom. So, despite the comfort and warmth Matthew provided, you chose not to stay the night after your intimacy, as you reasoned with an early morning and the need for him to focus on the upcoming game. And though being with him felt incredible, you had to admit to yourself that your heart still wasn’t fully committed.

Naturally, he was disappointed, but he understood your reasoning. Part of him knew that the rational and sensible choice would be to let you go and simply focus on hockey and his career. Yet, as you left his apartment, a sense of emptiness lingered. It felt as though you were the missing piece in his otherwise hectic yet successful life.

_

As the morning skate approached, Matthew felt like a renewed person. The night with you had been nothing short of wonderful, and as he prepared for the game day, he couldn’t help but smile.

Matthew understood that you weren’t completely devoted to him, at least not yet. However, he was confident that you felt something for him, something deep and profound. In the time he had spent getting to know you, he had learned that you weren’t malicious or intentionally trying to hurt him. You were simply torn between two men you cared for deeply, unable to make a choice.

And he tried to empathise with your dilemma. While he wished you would declare that you had forgotten about his Swedish teammate, he recognised that pressuring you to make a decision would only exacerbate the situation. So, for now, he accepted the situation as it was. Even as he arrived at the training centre, his lips still curved in happiness, and his demeanour did not go unnoticed by his teammates.

“Woohooo,” Auston whistled. “You seem a little too happy over there, Kniesy!”

“What’s brought such a smile to your handsome face?” Gio added, joining in the laughter.

“Or more like who?” Max chimed in with a grin.

It was nothing but the typical banter among teammates that filled the locker room as they all undressed to change into their gear. However, something more profound caught their attention this time, prompting a need for answers.

"Whoa, hold up there, beasty!" Auston nearly shouted, noticing the scratch marks on his fellow Arizona teammate's back. "Who the fuck has been doing some artwork on you?"

"And more importantly," Max chuckled deeply, "what did you do to deserve it?"

Dark chuckles filled the room as more players gathered to admire the nail scratches left from your intense night with the forward the night before.

"Looks like someone got laid last night!" Reaves added with a loud, deep grin. "And who's the lucky girl?"

"Or guy?" Mitch playfully joked.

Matthew took a small breath, glancing over to the empty stall where William would have been sitting if he hadn't been perpetually late, before deciding to speak up. "Her name is y/n," he spoke proudly, perhaps slightly boasting, though it lacked the same satisfaction without William in the room.

"Wait, you mean Willy's y/n?" Auston raised a brow, a light grin playing on his lips.

"Well..." Matthew began to respond, but then Max interjected.

"Oh, she's not Willy's girl anymore, man! Did you see those marks? Seems like our freshman here really showed her what a real man can do!"

Matthew felt a twinge of embarrassment at the words, but it was quickly overshadowed by the pride he felt. He had given you a good time, and the marks you left showcased the pleasure he had provided you.

And he couldn’t help it as his eyes gleamed with pride and he chuckled along with the other players. However, as the door then swung open, the laughter faded into a subdued murmur as William walked in, fashionably late as usual.

"What?" he asked, noticing the not-so-subtle change in atmosphere.

But the boys simply muttered 'nothing' before returning to gearing up for practice before the crucial match. They all sensed it was better to keep things low-key before the match that could either propel them into the playoffs or have them fighting for a few more games.

And it almost worked, until the practice games had William and Matthew facing off on opposite teams.

Initially, it hadn’t been a problem. William had resolved to act maturely about the situation, acknowledging his own villain role in it and allowing you to make your own decisions about how you felt toward each of them.

But as training progressed and he and Matthew found themselves in continuous physical battles on the ice, tension began to mount. What started as friendly hockey banter, suddenly changed when Max couldn't keep his mouth shut, and the atmosphere shifted.

"Looks like Kniesy isn’t just stealing Willy’s girl – he’s also beating his ass on the ice!"

Those words set William's mind spinning. What did Max mean by that?

Yet trying to shake it off, the Swedish forward focused on the training match, but to his frustration, he missed a crucial opportunity for a goal.

“Fucking hell!” he shouted loudly, banging his stick against the boards in frustration.

“Hey,” Auston came over, lightly chuckling. “Just because Kniesy’s sleeping with your girl, you don’t need to take it out on your stick, man.”

It was meant to be nothing but a playful remark, a joke among teammates, but William didn’t find it amusing at all.

“What did you just say?” he asked with a serious tone, more serious than Auston had expected.

"We- well… you know… Kniesy and y/n…" Auston stuttered, realising he might have just sparked something more serious.

“They what?” William asked again, his tone stern as his eyes fixed on the smiling freshman on the ice.

Matthew hadn’t intended to taunt William about his success in winning over a girl, but as the Swede took to the ice once more, an urge within him rose to showcase his newfound confidence and dominance.

As the two players were positioned in front of each other, they were ready to face off. And that's when William couldn’t maintain his composure any longer.

“You slept with her?” His eyes bore deeply into his teammate's, who simply nodded.

“Last night,” Matthew confirmed, prompting William to nod, his throat tightening as he imagined his teammate's hands on you.

“Hmm…” he muttered under his breath, unsure of how to react.

But before he could respond further, Matthew, perhaps emboldened by his newfound confidence, spoke again. “Guess I won her after all.”

And those were the wrong words to utter in William’s presence. Straightening his back, he halted the game and skated closely to Matthew’s face. “She’s not a prize to be won.”

The Swede asserted his dominance over his teammate, causing everyone to pause and observe the unfolding confrontation.

“Come on, Willy,” Matthew huffed, giving his shorter teammate a little push. “You’re just angry because you were the one who treated her like shit... and now she doesn’t want to be with you.”

“Fuck you, Kniesy!” William shot back, but Matthew was ready to defend himself.

“Oh yeah? Well, she did!”

And this had William push back, both physically and verbally, relinquishing the control he had been determined to maintain.

“Well, at least I know I won’t always be her second choice!”

What transpired between the first punch and the two boys ending up in the locker room with ice packs on their faces and towels containing the blood streaming from their noses was a blur to most. It happened so quickly, both players taking swings at each other in a fight far more intense and serious than any on-ice altercation. The coaches naturally intervened, while Tavares and Morgan pulled them apart, and with Reaves and other players chuckling in the background.

It was a coincidence that you had been nearby, as Stephanie had invited you to join her and some of the girls for preparations in case the Leafs continued into the playoffs. But the joy you had felt among the girls froze when you heard what had happened at training, prompting you to swiftly make your way to the Ford Performance Center.

Walking through the halls, your heart pounded in your chest, uncertain of what to expect when you faced the two boys who had torn your heart in two and claimed a part each.

And as you entered the locker room, you couldn't help but mutter, "Shit…" under your breath. Yet, other than your soft curse, there was silence. The tension filled the air as the three of you stood and sat frozen, no one wanting to take the first step and potentially worsen the situation.

It was as if all three of you were silently expressing the guilt you felt toward one another. 

William for dismissing you and then trying to reclaim your deep feelings for him and acting aggressively toward his teammate. 

Matthew for attempting to win you over despite knowing your feelings for his teammate, and then wanting to boast about his success. 

And you, for leading Matthew on while being unable to let go of William, unwilling to accept that Matthew might be the better choice, yet not fully believing it, as William still held a grip on your heart.

It was anything but an easy situation. And sensing your inner panic, the turmoil you were feeling as he saw your concerned expression shifting between him and his teammate, William chose to be the one to act.

Rising from his seat, the Swede let out a deep sigh, his eyes meeting yours in a heartfelt gaze. And without a word, he decided to be the one to walk away. He didn’t want to be the cause of your pain anymore, so he stepped down.

“Willy…” you softly gasped as your heart felt like it was being ripped out of your chest, a tear forming in the corner of your eye as you followed his movement.

You were on the verge of breaking, tears pressing on, yet you managed to focus on controlling your breathing. In the corner of your eye, you noticed Matthew’s intense stare as he watched your reaction, curious to see whether you would stop William or let him go.

And as it turned out, William walked out of the locker room, leaving you alone with Matthew.

Your heart pounded faster than ever before; palms sweaty as a tear trailed down your cheek. Breathing felt almost impossible in the moment, and your mind, soul, and body felt torn apart. You had never expected a heartbreak to hurt this much, and never had you expected it would be William to be the one to cause it.

The air felt thick, and though a small part of you felt relieved that now you didn’t have to make the hard choice between them, another part didn’t want that to be the case. So, without even consciously acknowledging your next move, you suddenly found yourself moving out of your frozen position and making your way with fast steps out of the locker room, following William.

“Willy, wait!” you heard yourself shout. But he didn’t stop. Instead, he just kept on walking, so you picked up your pace. “Willy, please!”

“What for?” he suddenly responded, halting in the middle of the corridor as he turned to face you. He didn’t shout, yet his facial expression conveyed signs of defeat and hurt.

“Because I don’t want you to leave…” you tried to argue, but it came out vague.

“Of course, you do, y/n… you can’t choose between me and Kniesy, so I’m deciding for you…”

“Willy,” you softly cried. “Please don’t do this…”

“Why not?”

“Because you’re too important to me…”

“That’s not enough, y/n… I promised I’d stay away if you didn’t feel anything for me, so that’s what I’m doing…”

You held your breath for a moment, torn between your emotions and rationality. “But I do feel something for you, Willy…” you admitted softly under your breath.

And in a swift motion, William's hands cupped your face, as he pressed his lips onto yours.

It was the familiar warmth coursing through your body as you felt his touch once again. The intoxicating sensation had your mind in bliss as his mouth melted with yours, lips moving in perfect sync as your hands instinctively reached to palm his chest.

Time seemed to stand still. The world stopped turning as you connected with the one who had captured your heart from the start. And though a part of you wanted to feel guilty for leaving Matthew in the locker room, it slowly washed away under William’s touch.

And as you then pulled apart to catch your breath, you shared a tender moment of gazing into each other's eyes. William's thumb gently wiped away the tear that trailed down your cheek before you managed to flash him a timid and soft smile.

“Please don’t leave…” you whispered.

“I won’t…” he spoke gently in return.

There was another moment of silence as you stayed connected. 

“I’m so sorry, Willy…”

“I know,” he simply responded, gently placing a kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a tight hug. Your body immediately responded to his, wrapping your arms around his warm body as you relished your re-found connection.

“I’m in love with you…” you sobbed into his shirt, tightening your arms around him.

William let out a deep sigh as he held you close, finally feeling the happiness that only you could bring him. But then, pulling back slightly, he looked down at you with a soft, concerned expression.

“But you’re in love with him too…” he stated softly, finally acknowledging the truth of the situation.

And you could only nod in response. “I am…”

[witchwrestler]

Hey there, Sailor.

pairing: fisherman!eddie + gn reader

wc: 1.8k

warnings: talk of the upside down, brief mention of scars

summary: he's a fisherman now, 20 something and trying to figure things out. The bakery he passes on his trek home finally lures him in one day, and a new friend (or maybe more) is made

a/n: greatly inspired by this fic by @/dr-aculaa | i had so much fun writing this, and i really hope you enjoy <3

It was 1995. ten years had come and gone since then. Things had calmed down. He had calmed down.

He found himself in the dreary west coast town of seattle, working on a boat catching fish for a somewhat sketchy payment. The grimey parts of which even grossed him out sometimes. He'd seen slimy creatures with rows of teeth from other dimensions and yet still some sea creatures made his skin crawl.

He was out of hawkins---he had lived through everything. He fought hard. And he made it. The monitors still rhythmically beeped in the back of his mind when he slept sometimes. The dull scars still riddled his abdomen, a not so subtle reminder of his close encounter with death. After everything he'd been through, eddie resorted to a quiet existence. Gone were the days of the loud, long haired boy with silver clad hands. The ripped jeans and homeade denim vest, covered in patches and pins were left behind. Soon replaced with cable knit sweaters and dickies, his beanie covering his shaved head.

He decided the quiet was easier, Though socialization was hard to come by when his work day ended when everyone else's began.

Making the early trek back home from the docks, he finds himself passing the little bakery on the corner. Usually he passes it and finds a 'we are closed' sign hanging on the door, but sometimes he catches glimpses of you setting up your quaint little shop for the day. Today, as he approaches the shop, the sign reads,

'we are open'

He peers in the window for a moment, advertisements for local bands, theater productions and bar crawls plastered over the glass. Soon his feet carry him inside, contrary to his brain, which was still deciding. As he enters the shop, the clash blares quietly from the back as he moves to the front, a second voice accompanying the song quietly.

"...Should I stay or should I go?

If you say that you are mine, I'll be here till the end of time"

Once upon a time the clash was his fourth favorite band, but after everything that he'd been through he found himself with music like elliott smith, and the smashing pumpkins. He cursed himself sometimes for listening to shit he used to call 'sad bastard crap', but he wasn't who he was in high school anymore, and it fit who he was now. Though now, he thought he might start listening to that stuff again. He was happier when he did anyway.

Standing awkwardly behind the cash register, he pulls his beanie off his head and brings a cold hand up to scratch his buzzed hair. His eyes wander the case, the freshly baked donuts and pastries sat carefully placed behind the glass, and when he looks back up, there you were.

In a metallica tour shirt. A warm smile on your face. "Hi." You coo, voice floating through the air. "I'm sorry if I kept you waiting, I opened early---I wasn't sure anyone would come in though" You add lightly, grateful he was your first customer of the day.

"that's alright" He says timidly. Soaking up your voice like morning sun.

He quietly requests a jelly filled donut. Just one he says. You happily get a peice of parchment paper and pick up the donut, carefully placing it in a bag.

"anything else?" You ask sweetly. His dark chocolate brown eyes meet yours as you set his donut on the counter in front of him, his still cold hands stuffed into the pockets of his carhartt jacket.

"that's ok." He says, slightly shaking his head no. He didnt want to be a bother and he was trying to not get caught up in your kind, warm smile that had his heart fluttering.

"you sure?" You questioned, "no coffee?"

"just the donut is ok. thank you, though" He says, politely declining and pulling out a couple of crumpled dollar bills to pay for the donut. You turn around and pour him a cup of coffee anyway. He looked tired. And it was cold outside.

You softly set the cup down next to his donut "on the house." You push the cup and bag toward him as he stares at it for a moment. His eyes sort-of wide. "really?" He questions, seemingly quite baffled by the gesture.

"you are my first customer of the day, after all" You say, shrugging.

He gives you a polite nod and makes his way toward the door, but not before turning around again to catch another glimpse. He pulled his beanie back on and sipped the coffee as he walked, holding the donut in his other hand. He found a park bench near his apartment and sat down, deciding he would eat the donut now.

he pulled the sweet treat out of the white paper bag, bringing it up to his mouth and taking a bite.

the sweet bread and jam melt in his mouth, causing him to fight a smile.

He makes the walk back to his apartment, and shuffles into the slightly grimey room, his boots squeaking on the floor. The smell of fish and salty air clung to his jacket as he hung it on the hook. He tried his best to make his dirt cheap apartment feel like a home. He decorated the walls with old band posters from his room in his uncles trailer, glimpses of what now seemed like a past life. He hung mugs just like his uncle did, to make it feel like home. Sometimes he missed the sense of home his uncles trailer gave him, but he did everything he could to remind himself of it. Although he didn't want to be back in hawkins, he didn't want to forget it either. He stripped off his work clothes to get ready for bed, finding himself daydreaming of the bakery owner he'd met today, who gave him the best donut he'd had in years.

When he left work the next morning, the donut shop was once again, open early. As he approaches the flyer covered windows, he finds himself, dare he say, nervous. He wondered if you made any new pastries today that he could try. His stomach twisted a little at the unfamiliar feeling, he hadn't felt like this about a person in a while, or ever, really. He carefully opened the door, eyes traveling the case of pastries as he walked in.

"Hey there, sailor" You greet as you walk out of the back kitchen, this time a metallica song plays faintly from your radio.

He smiles shyly at your greeting and gives you a small wave.

"What can I do for you?" You ask, turning around and putting on a pair of plastic gloves.

"What would you recommend?" He asks after a beat of silence.

Your face lights up with a warm smile, pleased that he asked your opinion. "I made beignets this morning" You say softly. "they're fresh"

He perks up a little at your words and nods slightly. "that sounds good" He says, a tight lipped but sincere smile on his face.

You nod politely and start to walk into the back and prepare him a little paper boat of them but then stop yourself.

"---do you want to come into the back?" You say, before you even realized what had come out of your mouth.

"--but I reek of sea animals?" He says, intrigued but slightly confused why you're inviting this smelly fisherman into your workspace.

"that's ok. come if you want." You shrug and leave the little swinging counter door open for him to enter if he chooses.

You walk into the kitchen, trays of donuts lining the metal counter tops, making your way toward a small plate of beignets. You pick up the confectioners sugar placed next to the plate and lightly dust a helping of it on top of the fried delicacies. Turning around you pick up a small paper tray and carefully place some of them inside.

"I like the music" You hear his voice say from across the table. "You can turn it up if you'd like. the radios right there" You say, a sweet smile on your face as you point over to the radio on your counter.

"Now some men like a fishin'

And some men like the fowlin'

And some men like to hear

To hear the cannonball roarin'

Me, I like sleepin'

'Specially in my Molly's chamber"

He doesn't turn the radio up. He likes that it's faintly playing, just enough to hear it if you really listen. "You a metallica fan?" You ask, looking up for a moment before lightly dusting the serving you'd prepared him.

He smiles sheepishly, scratching his head. "---In a past life" flashes of his james hetfeild esque haircut running through his mind.

You hand him the serving of beignets, giving him a small nod and then leaning against the counter behind you.

"not so much anymore?"

"I've decided I like the quiet more" He speaks quietly.

The conversation comes to a halt as he bites into one of the beignets you gave him. A sigh of, relief? pleasure? You couldn't quite place it escapes his chapped lips.

"I hope they're good. I've been workshopping the recipe for weeks" You speak, hopeful.

"They're more than good" He says, in the same deep and quiet voice.

"good" You nod, the ghost of a smile on your face.

"Uhm- do you mind me asking what brought you here? ---to seattle, i mean. it's quite a gloomy place for a 20--something--kid to move to---but I guess I'm one to talk" You talk quietly, worried you were talking too much to someone who didn't like that---he was very quiet--you couldn't tell.

Big brown eyes look up from the breakfast treat and at you, he swallows and thinks for a second.

"my hometown is---strange. I love it---but I had to get out of there. and here seemed like a good fresh start, I guess" He says, his voice gruff but kind.

"how long have you lived here?" You inquire, trying not to impose too much

"eight years"

"seven" you say, trying to find common ground "you should start coming in more often, I could use a familiar face" You had regulars at the bakery, but they were all simple hellos and goodbyes and small talk. This one seemed like it could be a friendship. Maybe you wanted more than that with this gruff and quiet fisherman who stumbled into your bakery, but you'll cross that bridge when you get there.

He stares for a moment, seemingly considering and running all the possible outcomes. "Yeah---Yeah."

You smile warmly at him from across the counter. He smiles sheepishly back.

He walks home in the cold and light rain that morning, thinking of ways he could talk to you. He didn't know alot, but he knew that you seemed like someone he'd like to keep around.

[ceasarslegion]

Yeah man when people started slamming that Thai zoo it kinda set off alarm bells for me regarding the zoo around the place I grew up in the gulf. The zoo I used to go too would rehouse exotic animals seized from people because there was a huge exotic pet problem in the area, and the place was trained in rehabilitating, training, and housing them, and had tightly supervised animal interactions where you could buy treats from little stands and toss them into the enclosures to watch zebras gobble up grass or what have you. They also have restaurants where you can interact with the apex predators, where one half of the table was behind the glass so they could hop up and watch you eat if they wanted, and the tiger enclosure had these little nooks in the glass where you could sit with them without them being able to get to you.

They also had this grizzly bear, who was 40 years old. Now, grizzlies live for about 20 years, so he was an old boy. He was slow and a bit lethargic and they built him his own separate enclosure with enrichment toys that were easier on his old joints so the other bears wouldn't play so rough with him. He loved to sit like a person and watch the people who came to see him, he reportedly loved people watching and was content to do it all day, so they made the platform more visible for him to see everyone and put up a sign saying that he loves to "talk," so say hi! And when you'd wave and shout "hi!" he'd happily call back to you.

On a school field trip once the keepers told us that they crush up bear painkillers in his food and mash it up a bit so it's easier for him to tear up and chew, and his old joints don't ache. They also told us that he must be very happy and well taken care of to live for so long, and we could all tell how much love they had for him and how much special attention they paid to him.

And then an american tourist took a photo of him and spread it around, claiming he was an abused animal who should be euthanized. And everybody just believed them because the zoo was in the middle east, saying that his enclosure was "too small" (it wasn't, it was specially built for a bear with limited mobility), that he was being forced to interact with people (he wasn't, the zoo responded to the social behavior he willingly participated in), and their proof was the photo of him sitting and looking up at them. And I suddenly had to see a bunch of westerners who would probably call the entire gulf a dangerous war zone calling for him to be put down for his own good, acting like this bear was so hard done by and knew nothing but suffering and likened him to a circus animal being forced to perform for human amusement. And acted like anyone who visited could full on pet adult tigers with no supervision because of the animal interaction aspect

This is a photo of the bear watching his visitors when he was alive (he was put down a few years ago, not in response to the whole Thing, but because his painkillers stopped working and he was in pain and distressed):

And this is the one that was spread around claiming he was abused (the shaved patches were from vet treatments and the grate he's looking through is his food slot. He's asking for snacks, not "forlornly looking through his jail bars"):

Anyway, that's what this whole Moo Deng shit reminds me of.

[poeticpains]

Does anyone else ever think about how fucked up it is that the setup of Escape the Night has us talking about who "deserved" it?

You see it in the fandom, and in the show itself, too — where there's discussions about who "pulled their weight" or who did the most for the team, with the implication that those who didn't deserve...what? A horrible, lonely death? To never see their families and loved ones again?

"I'm going to vote for [X], because they didn't pull their weight," is literally saying that someone being foolish, oblivious, and/or lazy is a mistake that should be punished by death.

Or the fandom, as they say that, "[X] wasn't doing very well, so they deserved to be put into that challenge."

And, look, I do not legitimately believe that anyone in the fandom or the show would ever be okay with someone dying because they couldn't figure out a riddle — I'm one of the ones screeching about how your fannish participation is not morality, and what you enjoy in fandom, or say about fictional characters (or fictional personas of real people) is not, in any way, reflective of your actual beliefs. Let me be abundantly clear: it doesn't matter to me who you think "deserved" to die, because nobody died, and at the end of the day, it's a fake web series.

...But that doesn't change that I think Escape the Night is a perfect encapsulation of the way that manipulation works on humans. As they say,

“1. Man is a MORAL animal. 2. You can get human beings to do anything — IF you convince them it is moral. 3. You can convince human beings anything is moral.” — Frank Bidart

In ETN, and especially in Season 3, the guests were convinced that voting people to die was the morally correct option. After all, world annihilation (and their own life) was on the line. Isn't that worth a little blood on your hands?

But it's hard to convince your average person that killing other people (or sentencing them to death, I suppose), if those people are otherwise innocent of severe crimes, is moral. So the situation sets it up using two things that are highly prized: merit and fear.

The fear is the easier option to discuss; it's the same point I made earlier regarding world annihilation and their own lives. (And, of course, it's easier to control scared people than it is to control people who have their wits about them. Manipulation 101.)

Merit, of course, is the entire point of this post. Many of us, I would hazard a guess, grew up with the American justice system, wherein death is an appropriate punishment for certain things. In ETN, that category is just stretched a little wider. Someone missed a clue? Well, they must be stupid — so they deserve to die.

And yes, I am defining voting someone in as tacitly saying that they deserve to die, because that is the unspoken consequence that could happen to anyone who was voted in.

Anyways, back to merit. Before every death challenge, barring the special ones, like the Witch's Challenge in S3, there's literally a discussion where the guests are supposed to defend themselves and prove that they helped. And if the court of public opinion decides you didn't? Well, off to the chopping block with you, my friend — your performance was unsatisfactory, and therefore you deserve to be beaten to death/buried alive/whatever terrible fate awaits them that episode.

But isn't that absurd, when you think about it like that? It's like having a shitty coworker that never responds to emails and takes 45 minute lunches. That's basically it. That's what these people are dying for.

Literally everyone on the show is guilty of this, even fan favorites like Matthew, so it's not like I'm trying to call guests out, or anything. I just think it's a really fascinating look into the way that humans can be manipulated into being willing to kill other humans.

Maybe someday I'll write something more in-depth on this.

[sephirthoughts]

The Ghost of Shinra Manor 👻

It's still spooky season till after Día de los Muertos so it's not technically late!

summary: It's been two years since the events of Dirge of Cerberus. Cloud visits his hometown, and investigates a rumor of a ghost, haunting Shinra Manor. If you're surprised by who it turns out to be, you are beyond my power to save, comrade.

tags: g-g-g-ghosts!!! sefikura, sephiroth x cloud, sane!sephiroth (sort of), post advent children, post dirge of cerberus, canon timeline, delusions, intermitten amnesia, low drama, enemies to…whatever the hell they have going on

NOTE: i was raised by outdoorsy, log cabin, roughing-it parents and there will be a lot of details about this type of living because that is what i like

warnings: references to death, PTSD, past abuse, etc. all of hojo's greatest hits, mention of animal death in the context of ethical subsistence hunting/fishing, canon-typical violence, technical nudity but i didn't describe anything so you'd have to imagine it yourself which is not on me, pervert

rating: teen and up [for now]

Part 1: Reunion

A big, black, Fenrir model motorcycle roared up the dirt road, leaving clouds of dust in its wake. Its golden-haired rider adjusted his goggles and pulled his black scarf up, over his nose and mouth. It was late spring, which was still mid-winter in the Nibel region, and as he drew nearer to the mountain, the wind grew colder and sharper, till it felt like it was full of tiny, icy needles.

He had a little hunting cabin, up there, that no one else knew about. They knew he went somewhere, it was just that he didn’t specify the location to anyone but Cid and Vincent, who had helped him fix the place up, and were sworn to secrecy.

Why didn’t he tell the others where it was? Why would he? He went there to be alone. To decompress, when the weight of people’s lives got too heavy to carry. When their voices began to cut into his skull like buzz-saws, and he felt the thread of his tolerance strained to the snapping point.

Even for a person with a normal brain and no life-altering trauma, things would have been claustrophobic, in their little house. Marlene and Denzel were underfoot every minute of the day, and their continued presence meant that when Cloud wasn’t out on long deliveries, he and Tifa had to share a bedroom. He couldn’t fall asleep, with another person in the room, though, so they didn’t use it at the same time. He was a night person, anyway. 

She tried to act like she wasn’t hurt by his refusal to share a bed with her, but she was a shit actress. He had attempted to make her feel better by explaining that he didn’t have those kinds of feelings for girls—or for anyone, really—but he could tell she didn’t really believe it. Or that she at least thought of it as something they could work on.

Everyone (except Vincent) thought that. That something was wrong with him, and that he’d get better, if they persevered in telling him so. The way he was didn't make sense to them, therefore it wasn't normal, therefore it was a problem that needed to be solved. Hooray for the neuro-typical majority.

No one ever asked Cloud what he thought. They just told him what he should think, and then made decisions for him. Most of the time, it was easier to just go along with it, especially since he didn’t want everyone to be mad at him. Them being mad at him meant they’d talk to him even more, and use louder voices. He hated that.

He should have insisted on getting his own place, a long time ago. He and Tifa had been playing house from necessity, at first, but there was nothing actually keeping them together, now, aside from habit. Habit and guilt.

Who knew when she started to think of it as a real family. As if she and Cloud were a mother and father, with a couple of kids. As absurd as that was. They were barely more than kids, themselves.

When Cid and Vincent got married, people got even more obnoxious with the hints and "jokes" about when him and Tifa were going to tie the knot. She’d act all embarrassed and explain that their relationship wasn’t like that, but she’d glance at him, with that look in her eyes, when she thought he wasn’t paying attention. 

He sighed, as he rounded a long curve in the road. He knew himself well enough to know that he’d probably wind up giving in and just marry her. Didn’t seem like a very happy ending, for either of them, but who got one of those, these days? 

It did seem like an especially shit deal for her, though. Marry the kid no one liked, from your backwater hometown, live in a shithole two-bedroom over a bar, slinging booze and taking care of two adopted kids, while your asexual husband spends most of his time away, for work. 

Asexuality was a spectrum, though, and Cloud was somewhere near the middle. It just wasn’t the heterosexual middle. He made an earnest effort, once, but he couldn’t get it up for a woman, no matter how hard he tried, and it just wound up being awful and making the girl cry.

Fucked a couple of guys back when he was a trooper, but that was rare. Not that there weren’t plenty of interested troopers and even SOLDIERs, it was just that he had never wanted any of them. What he had really wanted was Sephiroth. 

Cloud was nine years old, when he fell in love with the perfect face, that he saw on television and the recruiting posters, that were always plastered all over every vertical surface, in town. The obsession only grew stronger, as he grew older. 

He joined up as soon as they’d take him, at age fourteen. The training was miserable and grueling, but he gritted his teeth and worked his ass off, keeping his idol firmly in his sights. Whenever the opportunity came up, he applied to the SOLDIER program. For all his diligent efforts, he met with rejection after rejection.

Several years passed, that way, with disappointment weighing ever more heavily on his heart. But just when he was losing hope that he’d ever meet the object of his worship face to face, he was assigned to a mission with the silver soldier himself. Wouldn’t you know it, that mission was to check on the reactor, in his very own hometown. 

They say never to meet your heroes, but the implication is that you’ll be disappointed. Cloud was not disappointed. Sephiroth was everything he had ever imagined, and more. Ten times more beautiful, and a hundred times stronger and faster. His legendary height was one thing to know logically, and another thing entirely to experience in person. He was literally superhuman.

And yet, despite his angelic appearance and godlike strength, he wasn’t arrogant or demanding, at all. He was thoughtful and soft-spoken, and obviously cared for his subordinates. He asked their opinions, and actually listened. Encouraged them, rather than berating them. He even learned and called them by their first names. It was the most humanely Cloud had been treated by any superior, apart from Zack.

Following those two around, on that mission, Cloud fell more hopelessly in love with his silver-haired deity, than ever. He loved Sephiroth with his whole young soul. Right up to the moment he watched that famous blade pierce his mother’s heart. 

Cloud Strife died, that night, as surely as Claudia had, and whatever this thing was, that he had become, was born. This thing capable of killing gods and monsters. This thing that survived years in a mako tank, being tortured by that bastard Hojo. This thing that had absorbed Zack’s memories, and remembered everything but Zack. This thing that hated Sephiroth, with every fiber of its being. Hated him as much as Cloud had loved him.

The sun was low in the sky, behind a blanket of grey clouds, when he finally pulled up to the clearing, where his unassuming cabin was tucked away.

He swung his leg off the saddle, then he winced and clutched his chest. His heart had been aching more and more as he approached Nibelheim. Not in the metaphorical sense, because of the tragedies he’d been through there—it was actual, physical pain.

He wasn’t exactly sure when it started, though, bcause he was so used to pain, it just got shoved to the back of his mind. Which it did again, now. It wasn’t bad enough to incapacitate him, so he ignored it, and unbuckled the leather panniers, which he slung over his shoulder.  

The cabin was locked up tight, just like he left it, with all the traps and wards in place. Not surprising. No one came up this way, anymore, since the reactor shut down.

Fortunately, the cabin didn’t need the reactor, for power. He’d bought an old, Wutaian, nuclear generator, to heat the water and supply electricity, and hooked it up with Cid's help. Thing was expensive as hell, but it was quiet, reliable, and would last literally forever. 

He stepped inside and typed in a code on a wall panel. When the generator hummed to life, he switched the electric lights on, and took a look around. The place was a little dusty, since he hadn’t been there since last summer, but otherwise, everything was just how he left it. 

It was a simple, single-room cabin. Nothing fancy, except he and Cid had redone the insulation and added the electrical wiring. Water came from a dedicated well, deep enough to take advantage of the Nibel region’s unique geothermal situation, and not freeze.  

There was a bed in one corner, with a frame of roughhewn logs, and a cedar trunk at the foot, where the blankets and pillows were stored. The bathroom door and the kitchen were on the other side (just a stove, small refrigerator, a few cabinets, and a sink), and the fireplace was central. In the opposite corner to the bed, there was a steel camp table, with two folding chairs, as if he’d ever have a guest here.

He tossed his panniers on the bed and went right back out to carry in firewood. Supply was getting low. The cupboards were pretty barren, too, but he’d go into town tomorrow to stock up on canned and dry goods. Those were just a supplement to the main source of food, up here, which was hunting.

When he was a kid, hunting was a long and grueling ordeal, with uncertain payoff. Now, augmented by Sephiroth’s cells and whatever else Hojo did to him in that lab, it was as easy as a trip to the grocery store. He left and returned with a brace of rabbits, within half an hour. It was late spring, so they were already nice and fat, too. 

With the ruthless efficiency of a seasoned survival hunter, he skinned, cleaned, and washed them, and set them roasting on the iron spit, over his little hearth. He was out of anything resembling spices, but the meat was good enough roasted, with just a little salt. 

That night, as he lay in bed, that ache in his chest seemed to grow worse, and made him toss and turn restlessly. When he finally drifted off, he dreamed of being impaled on Masamune and lifted into the air. Sephiroth’s green cat-eyes, staring up at him, with that deranged smile on his beautiful face. Black feathers fell like snow all around him.

I will never be a memory…

In the morning, Cloud went into town. Despite the reactor being shut down, Nibelheim was more lively than ever. With no Shinra, there was no one to pay mortgages to, so the residents weren’t eager to leave the homes which now belonged to them, free and clear. Then the WRO came in and added infrastructure, opened a school and clinic, and paid subsidies to local shepherds and artisans and the like, so the little town was actually prospering. 

“Howdy, Mr. Strife!” the round-faced, balding man at the general goods store said cheerfully, when Cloud brought his purchases to the counter. “Been nigh on a year, since I seen ya. Stayin’ a while?”

“Little while,” Cloud answered noncommittally. “How are things, in town? Anything needs looking into, while I’m here?”

The man scratched his chin. “Nothin’ particular. Just the usual rumors, is all. Monsters in the woods. Creepy things goin’ on at the old manor. That kinda thing.”

“Let me guess. The vampire, again?”

“Nah, nah, ain’t heard nothin’ about that fella in a long time. These days, it’s a ghost.”

“Fiends, or something else?”

“Folks are sayin’ it’s the ghost of a woman, with long, white hair. Don’t do nothin’ but wander around inside the manor, wailin’ and moanin’. They say if you go over there, at night, you can hear her, but if she catches ya snoopin’ around, she sucks out your soul.”

Cloud snorted. “Sounds like the usual bullshit.”

“You ain’t kiddin’!” the man laughed. “Folks got too much time and not enough to do, these days, so they get to tellin’ tales. Y’never know what they’ll say, next. Maybe devils or goblins.”

“Well, if it keeps kids away from the manor, the ghost stories are probably for the better. It’s a dangerous place,” Cloud said, taking his full grocery bags. “I’ll be heading over there, tonight, to clear out any monsters that may have got in, over the winter. I’ll be sure to look out for the ghost.”

“Haha, you do that! Have a good one, Mr. Strife!”

Despite his reticence and flat indifference to overtures of friendship, Cloud was rather popular with Nibelheim’s current residents, because whenever he was in town, he’d deal with any local wildlife problems. Even if no one had anything pressing, he always checked Shinra Manor, since the ruins attracted a lot of monsters, and if they started establishing nests, they could pose a real threat to the townsfolk. 

He spent the rest of the day chopping and stacking firewood, fishing using a thundaga materia and a net (which was technically cheating, but he was fishing for food, not sport), and scouting around for signs of dens, near the town. When the sun got low, he strapped on his sword and began the short, two-mile hike to Shinra Manor.

When he emerged from the woods, on the bumpy, neglected dirt road, it was already dark. The hulking ruin of the house loomed like the desiccated corpse of some titanic beast, off in the darkness, behind the bent and rusted iron fence. Cloud kicked the creaking gates open and strode in.

The property was overgrown with brambles and sedge grass, and ugly, grey vines, with huge thorns covered much of the half-collapsed structure. The front doors had long fallen off the hinges, so the entrance was just a yawning, black hole, like the mouth of a tomb. 

Cloud faltered and clutched his chest, as he approached the house, but not for any fear of the supernatural. He’d killed too many supernatural creatures to care about even the biggest and vilest ones. Besides, he knew firsthand that the scariest thing in Shinra Manor had been a living human being, named Hojo. 

It was just that the pain in the area of his heart had gotten steadily worse, on the walk here, and now it was throbbing insistently, aching so badly it was getting hard to ignore it.

What the hell could it be? He’d chopped wood and done other physical labor all day, without noticing it. Why was it getting worse, now, after a relatively light walk? 

He was thinking about this, in mild annoyance, when he heard a noise inside the house. In the blink of an eye, his sword flashed out and he shifted into combat mode, all senses on alert. 

As he stepped inside, the stench of dry-rot hit him in the face, like a wool blanket. He paused and surveyed the area. It was pretty dark, in here, but he had excellent night-vision, so it was more like dim twilight, to him. 

The noise was coming from the upper level, somewhere. A rasping sound, like dry corn husks scraping the walls. Every once in a while, there was a burst of creepy cackling. His lip curled. He knew exactly what that was. 

The main stairwell had collapsed, so he leapt lightly up to the landing on the next level, and stalked down the hall. Around the corner, the doors to all the rooms (which were miraculously intact), were closed tight. The scraping sound was coming from…pretty much all of them. How did those things manage to get into the rooms and shut the doors behind them?

“Dumbshits,” he grumbled, and kicked the first door open. 

Sure enough, a bunch of floating fiends, with markings like stupid jack-o-lantern faces on their balloon-like air-sacs, were bobbing around the room cackling at each other. When the door exploded inward, they shrieked and rushed at Cloud. With a casual swing of his sword, he obliterated all of them at once. 

Their dying howls riled up the ones in the other rooms. Apparently they couldn’t figure out how to get out, though, so they just rasped and thudded around, cackling like idiots. Cloud kicked the next door down and blasted those ones, too. 

He repeated this process, for each room, making his way down the hall, till he reached the room with the secret passage, to the basement levels. There was no noise from this one. He tried the knob. It clicked easily, and the door swung open, with a hollow creak. 

No fiends in here, but the passage to the basement was open. He’d better go down there and clear out anything else, that might be lurking. Monsters loved dark, dank places like that.

Slapping his sword back onto the magnetic holder, he hopped down the black hole, and landed on a stone floor, three full stories below. 

The impact of his boots was still echoing in the stone-walled chamber, when he heard it. A low, eerie moan, that seemed to come from somewhere far off. At the same time, that pain split through his chest like a crack of thunder, making him grab his heart and gasp for breath. 

The moan stretched out into a wail, rising in pitch and wavering, before it dwindled again. The sound sent chills racing up his spine. Things like ghosts and monsters held no terror for him, but this was different. He wouldn’t even call it fear. It was more like…a rush of numinous awe.  

He threw a firaga burst, to light a couple of the torches on the wall, and surveyed the crypt. Vincent’s coffin was gone. The others had been tossed about and smashed to bits. Bones littered the floor.

Step by step, he descended deeper into the basement. Toward that old library. Toward that horrible place, where he was stuck with needles and probes, cut open and sewn back together, had his eyes blinded with chemicals and his lungs filled with burning mako, till his throat was too scorched and raw, to even beg for death.

His stomach churned and cold sweat was beading on his forehead, but he kept going, compelled by that ghastly moaning and the splitting pain in his chest.

He passed through the library, still scattered all over with heaps of old books, smelling heavily of their musty scent. The door was open, on the other side. The moaning had turned into a low whimpering, punctuated with choking sobs. It didn’t sound like a woman’s voice, though.

Drawing his sword again, and clenching his teeth against the agonizing ache in his heart, he stepped into the next chamber, all his hyper-tuned senses on high alert. There were collapsed pillars and scorch marks, and slashes made by huge claws in the stone walls, from their fight with Vincent, in his beast form. 

Along the far wall, were several heavy, steel doors, with locking bars on the outside. The one the noise was coming from was ajar. It wasn’t the lab he’d been confined in. It was on the opposite end of the long chamber—the one with those strange vats, labeled Project-S, which Vincent had taken umbrage to them entering, back then. 

Cloud pushed the door the rest of the way open and scanned the room. In the inky, underground darkness, even his night-vision was pushed to the limits, and he could only see very dimly, but it was enough to spot the source of the noise. 

It was a naked, ash-white, human figure, curled up in the corner of the room, trembling and whimpering. Its pallid body seemed insubstantial, almost transparent at the edges, like it was fading out of reality. That was probably just an illusion, brought on by the heavy darkness.

He used a materia to summon a little ball of light, and as the white glow filled the room, the figure gave a hoarse cry and curled up tighter.

Cloud squinted at it. This must be the ghost, people claimed was haunting the place, but why would they say it was a woman? Its back was to him and its head was down, wrapped up protectively in its arms, but he could see that it was a man, from the broadness and muscularity of the shoulders.

“N—no, please,” the ghost stammered, in a weak half-whisper. “Please, don’t hurt me. I’ll be good. I won’t…I won’t ask about her anymore, I promise. Please.”

“Hey. What’s wrong with you?” Cloud said. 

His own voice startled him, sounding solid and very loud, compared to the feeble murmurs of the ghost, which were muted and distorted, as if Cloud was hearing them through water.

“No, g—go away! Don’t touch me! Don’t touch me!” the thing wailed, as Cloud stepped closer. 

“Will you shut up and listen to me?” Cloud said, keeping the sword trained on the huddled figure. 

The ghost’s piteous pleas cut off abruptly, but it kept trembling and cowering. 

“I’m not gonna hurt you,” Cloud soothed. “Calm down, ok? What are you doing here? Did you get lost?”

Hesitantly, the figure lifted its head. 

Cloud’s heart stopped.

Time seemed to stop.

Long, silver hair hung over the ghastly-white face, and cascaded to the floor, pooling around its bare feet, like water. From between the moon-colored strands, pale-blue eyes peered up at him, with slit, catlike pupils. 

“Who…who are you?”

[rougevingirl]

bobal (9) - jenna ortega please? ❤️‍🩹

❝Unfinished Paths❞

Character: Tara Carpenter

Words: 1117

Warnings: none

Wine: Bobal

Number: 9

Prompt: exes to lovers - both ending up in the same small town 8 years later…what could possibly happen?

❝prompts with wine❞

I really tried to write for Jenna, but as the text developed I realized that it was better for Tara, nothing makes much sense, but I hope you like it. There's no happy ending here, just anguish.

"It's so strange that we've ended up here together after all these years, but you still don't want to talk to me. You're just going to spend the whole evening drinking wine and eating takeaway, aren't you?" she asked. You had no idea why you always had to talk about these things now, always at the wrong time. Why couldn't you just get on with it as an adult? 

"Are you sure you don't want to get drunk one last time before you leave for New York? We haven't done that since we graduated from high school." - It was true; you hadn't even realized it until now. Should you have known that your only friend and girlfriend, ex now, would be living in New York City after she finally graduated, after all the turbulent events how could she go on in Woodboro? You should have known that one day that relationship would end and leave a gaping wound in your chest, even after years it still hurt so much... And yet, he didn't seem to care. Could it be that she was so used to it? So used to it that she no longer missed him?  Miss the relationship they had?

No, it wasn't that at all. No. There was something else bothering her. The point was that there was nothing wrong with her. She had always been kind to you, and still was. She was kind and helpful and very pretty. But it was more than that. The way she said things made them seem a little different from what they really were. Not in a bad way, of course, because how would she know what she wanted if her life revolved around the past, around what other people wanted? She probably wouldn't understand that at all, she wouldn't understand herself. It was just that she seemed to expect you to respond in the same way that everyone else did. And that... wasn't right at all.

There was something else wrong with her, you realized now, something beyond all the troubled events of the last few years. The reason you never wanted to think about her again was because you knew exactly what it was. Because you remembered. You had been best friends before graduation. Girlfriends. And then she'd gone to New York City and you'd broken up and then barely talked for months. Now, suddenly, you were back in the same city? What had happened between then and now? Why did you feel so lonely? What was she hiding? What had changed? Why was everything so much easier before than now? Everything was still "the same", but it felt like things had changed so much. Why couldn't you understand? Why couldn't you see the signs? Why couldn't she? Was there a part of her that wasn't even there anymore? Something inside her was gone. You knew that. He had seen it happen many times before. But when? When? Where? Had it been before or after graduation? Had you even had a normal conversation? Or were you the only one who had noticed? It was so strange; you wished you could just ask her the questions you were thinking, but you didn't think she would answer them anyway. And you really didn't want to know.

"I'm sorry to keep bringing it up," she continued. "But it seems that every time I try to mention it, you run away like the plague. Remember our first date? Remember how uncomfortable we were at first? Remember how nervous and awkward we were when we tried to kiss? Can't we just start again?"

Yes. Yes, they could. You remembered. You also remembered that it had been amazing and wonderful, everything that should happen with a first kiss. So why did you feel so miserable now? You looked down at the table, remembering those days. Your eyes fixed on his face before you slowly shook your head in denial. "That's not it at all. We went on lots of dates and kissed several times. Don't get me wrong. I love kissing you. More than anything. And I can promise you that I would never push you away to avoid kissing you." It may have sounded silly, but honestly, you meant every word you were saying. You loved kissing her. It had been the only time you had really felt happy, fulfilled and alive. It had been perfect. And maybe you needed to go out with her to forget about it for a while and create new memories with someone else. Someone other than her. And Tara, someone who wasn't you. "But I can't. I really like you. But I can't..."

She frowned in confusion, also looking perplexed. "Why? If that's really the case, then why are you so determined not to see me, not to be with me?"

Because you couldn't do that. "Because I want to. Very much. I want to see you all the time. But I can't. Because my life is here in Woodsboro. This is my home. And I don't belong anywhere else. I mean, it may sound silly, but I love this town. It's where I belong. My family is here. And my work is here. And my friends are here, and my girlfriend is here..." You stopped when she opened her mouth to speak again. That was very difficult to explain. You had to find some kind of excuse. "And I've decided to stay here, I know everything that's happened has been terrible, but I'm just leaving here to pursue my life in Boston, where my girlfriend's family lives. And maybe I'll go on like this forever. Maybe it's selfish, but I'm not going to let anything else ruin my perfect life here in Woodsboro or Boston maybe..."

She stared at you, clearly not liking the answer that came out of your mouth. Her lips formed an "o", obviously not expecting it. "I see," she finally replied. She stood up abruptly and turned to leave the restaurant. "Well then, I guess we should move on. Goodbye, Y/n. Have a good night."

You said nothing. Simply watched her walk away. You hated yourself so much. You were a coward. It was just that you were afraid. Afraid to accept what had happened before your graduation. Afraid to accept what was happening now. Afraid that maybe it was a big mistake, a sign, something that would change everything. And, above all, afraid that you were falling in love with someone who wouldn't fall in love with who you were now. That was your biggest fear. That you would become just another person she would fall in love with, but who would never be good enough.

© rougevingirl - scream and horror writer

[soundbord]

this took a lil longer than i wanted to but... here is milo's intro !

                                   the basics.

NAME: milo mendoza

AGE: twenty six

GENDER: nonbinary

PRONOUNS: he/they

ZODIAC: pisces sun, libra moon, sag rising

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: bisexual

TV TROPES: not in front of the kid, brilliant but lazy, used to be a sweet kid, the charmer, getting high on their own supply

                                    about.

parentified to the max. milo's parents never really raised him, he knew that. they gave him just what he needed to survive and plopped him in front of a tv. they knew exactly why they turned out the way they did; why they didn't learn to floss or tie their shoes until embarrassingly late in life. moving forward, milo made sure their siblings didn't have those same problems. they'd eat consistently and as healthy as a preteen could get access to, they'd have hobbies and join clubs, they'd be taken to school on time even if it meant him missing school instead. he's proud, honestly, to have his siblings be as cool as they turned out. the two oldest starting college, over five years younger and about as close to graduation as he was. it wasn't about his future anyway, it was always about theirs.

fashion, piercings, and tattoos quickly became his thing once he was old enough to realize everyone was already judging him by the integrity of his shoe soles. it felt good to be able to customize his avatar, look however he wanted loudly in the view of judgmental eyes. when he figured out how easy it was to bleach and dye short hair, it was over to them.

milo's always been big on music. any genre, you name it, he's collected what he believes to be the masterpieces within them. from electronic to rock to big booming movie scores, he is never without something to listen to. might be the only person in this world who doesn't get in music slumps.

they should just drop out. they know that at this rate they may never graduate, but something about the concept of college, an acceptable inbetween, makes them feel like they aren't completely wasting their life away. when old teachers back at their hometown ask what they're doing nowadays, they can say they're at university, and there's no pitying looks. so, yeah, they're sort of blowing a lot of money for a degree they don't know they'll ever get, but maybe after enough years it'll all fall into place. it seems to for everyone else by the time they walk the stage, at least.

it wasnt a hard decision when he started selling. there was a demand, he needed money, and it wasnt like it would be a shock to anyone. milo liked the connections that being a dealer made for him. and yeah, maybe he is a bit too soft, a bit too sweet, but he genuinely believes hes formed a lot of friendships from this. (take luke sinclair, for example, who milo still wants gone from his memory and brushes off whenever he comes up. it's easier to live with the loss that way) the community that forms around you when you have something that people want is unbelievable. in a few short months he went from having a handful of friends to being beloved. the attention is addicting. almost as addicting as what was always going to come next when you give someone like him access to copious amounts of drugs.

i had nowhere else to put this so here's a big vibe shift. milo's current dnd character is a lightfoot halfling wizard girl named xanthe dunn. unlike milo, xanthe is a well off, cunning, and scholarly girl. her personality is very similar to hermione from you know what.

                                   a look inside.

mannerisms.

FACE: one look at milo's expressions will tell you all you need to know about how they’re feeling. they have a tendency to overexaggerate reactions. but, this is just the conscious expression, things taught from raising young children and wanting to help them better emote. when he wants to hide things, he can easily behind a smile

HANDS:  he isn't a big hand talker, surprisingly. milo's usually preoccupied, fidgeting with a zipper or a lighter in his pocket as he talks or has to pay attention to anything.

LEGS/FEET: they're always in some sort of lounging state. milo's feet are constantly propped up somewhere. 

EMOTIONAL OUTBURSTS: hasn't happened in a few years, since getting into a fight with his sister's boyfriend over one christmas trip. usually, he can keep things in check. even arguments he has to slip some humor in to show he isn't emotionally affected, but when it does happen...

HABITS: chronic napper i fear. he can and will sleep anywhere, no matter who's around or what is happening.

POSTURE: oh, it is dreadful. just the worst. 

personal.

INTROVERT/EXTROVERT?: milo is an extrovert when their energy is matched, but they struggle to speak to people who are more introverted. often they just try to avoid pushing and seeming too overbearing

OPTIMIST/PESSIMIST: they've never been an optimist, but milo won't admit that. at least at face value looking at everything in a sort of glass half full way can help with morale, even if he doesn't believe it himself. he's especially pessimistic about this luke business (milo has from the start believed that luke is dead) but will only admit to it in ways that can seem like he's kidding... just incase it makes their friends sad

INSECURITIES: the volume of their voice is a big insecurity. milo had always been an excitable kid, and was always the one being shushed. worst was when people would cringe while he talks, indicating to tone it down. since, he's tried to take on a more laidback persona, voice lazy and low. still, whenever they're excited they have their moments.

relationships.

FAMILY: empathy win! your messy stoner brother who wears the same beat up old jacket everyday is a girl dad! of milo's 5 younger siblings, 4 of them are girls. he's been sewing, weaving perfect plaits, and patting pink blush on cheeks for years now. it's a strange picture, seeing them all piled into his beat up old car. his younger brother, not a smudge on his eyeglasses and hair perfectly parted down the middle, the girls in a rainbow of club uniforms ranging from cheer to band, and milo in a stained white tank, swatches of liquid lipsticks lined neatly on his forearm. their parents are another story entirely. milo keeps their cool as much as possible, but when they visit home from school to find their older siblings taking care of the littles instead of the parents, that anger threatens to spill out. he keeps his composure, pays his share of the rent, and doesn't say a word to his parents.

FRIENDSHIPS: connection is the single most important thing for milo. friendship is where he gets to have fun, drop the responsible attitude he has to keep at home and just do things because he wants to, despite the consequences. this leads to him being a bad influence more often than not, and at worst a nuisance. 

LOVE: from one failed relationship to another, milo never considered love very much. that was, until things started getting serious with camille. their relationship exists in a pocket universe separate from real world things like family. upgrading from a hookup situation to a full blown relationship was a big step, and somehow felt more important to take care of than every other relationship where he had been careless. they're a pathetic wife guy deep down, even though on the surface they just seem sort of toxic. milo does what he can to be a good partner, but they're a tactless mess, and often find themselves ruining things. with this recent breakup, they've upped the pathetic by a thousand. it's why they're even joining along on this project; to spend time together, try and repair their relationship.

                                   & luke

BAD INFLUENCE : the king of letting loose, milo seemed like the only person luke could truly lower his walls around. with him, there were no ulterior motives or potential for scandal. the two could simply chill. but smoking cigarettes became smoking weed, & that turned into shrooms which then became pill-popping. while milo was opening luke’s eyes to the wonderful world of recreational drug abuse, luke was single-handedly funding milo’s deadbeat lifestyle.

THE SECRET : late into the night, hours after he’d disappeared into the woods, milo found luke. the two talked for a while . . . smoked a little. only, milo had been cutting corners & settling on cheaper products to better afford the comfortable lifestyle he’d become accustomed to on luke’s coin. at some point he must’ve fallen asleep because, when he awoke, luke was gone — as was the remainder of his ( laced ) drugs.

[screen-universe-official-thingie]

Fictionals' True Form anatomy sheet

Tw: Body horror galore

This has already been done a while back, but I somehow didn't get around to posting it.

I've been considering fixing some things, but eh, I'm now lazy, so here's some artist notes instead as well as some close ups

↓↓Close ups and notes under the cut↓↓

Notes: Yes, I didn't know that the female symbol only has one horizontal line and you'll be seeing this reoccurring mistake all over the sheet. Here, you'll see a familiar art work (assuming you've seen it, if not, here it is) of my adoptive mind children SpongeBob and Lusamine peeling themselves. Everyone looks practically the same regardless of their vessels' assigned sex. What only sets them apart is their "hair" styles or other aspects reflecting their vessels.

Yep, these actor mofos are eldritch entities made entirely out of glowing white nerves and a kind of cancer or at least is based off of a kind of tumor called the teratoma. The typical rl teratoma aren't usually cancerous, but they can be at times. Let's say that these mfs are the cancerous types, I like to jokingly call them magical cancer nerve people who wear meat suits of the characters for our entertainment.

Yes, their true forms are a fuel for their magic/powers and allow them to live for a very long time as long as their game and animated series keep pumping out content and not meet the specific conditions for permanent death

When all or most of their true form is outside their vessel, the only organs that stay intact are the epidermal system and eyeballs. The eyes roll back and hide away the iris and pupils upon the peeling. Other internal organs get disintegrated

Here, we'll use Skinwalkermine's and SkinwalkerBob's skin removal art as reference.

(Yes, I did SpongeBob's stand alone True Form drawing too, he's the first Fictional to have his TF drawn and imagined when the concept was first introduced. It's just that I didn't post it because it's the second or third digital drawing I've drawn and I wasn't very good at it back then)

Do note that removing the meat suit and being outside of it is painful as shit. It's best to stay inside and play the part.

(Ngl, this looks very... Uhhhh... Unfortunate and horrible out of context, please help)

Her eye rolls back and shows some nerve, just as seen in the sheet

TW: Eyes everywhere (They represent the audience)

As you can see here, both of their exterior flesh suits stay intact and just go limp from the lack of support.

This is where the teratoma inspo comes in. When inside their vessels, they create other internal organs to make their vessels fully functional. Then they go organ mode and latch on to the brain stem and somewhere where the limbic system is located. This allows them to show their emotions in extraordinary ways.

Fictionals are very expressive creatures, they use their magic to enhance their expressions as a reflex. This makes it easier to convey their emotions and feelings on the screen. It also gives them a difficult time to lie to both their creators and their fellow actors.

(I want to make sense of why and how animated characters make wacky and exaggerated expressions or how game characters have emote signs above their heads. This is the world building explanation for it)

Nipple privileges removed. Point and laugh.

Note: This is the error I was talking about. The thinner, leaner waist is supposed to represent the male vessel, but my dumbass put "F" for female instead. There's also a typo, whoops.

But yes, both sexes get Barbie dolled. Mainly because of censorship laws and genitals aren't needed to begin with. Fictionals live long lives and the creators would just make more of their kind anyway. It also prevents them from reproducing unneeded extra babies and interfering series production should things like pregnancy, relationship complications, and child birth occur.

This resulted to a majorly aroace normative society and Fictionals see things like sex and marriage as foreign, non existent concepts. An act of fiction and another scene demanded by the director if you will. Though, marriage and romance are possible between Fictionals, but they're very rare and are seen as unnecessary and strange.

Both sexes sharing certain places such as the locker rooms and bathrooms have been normalised. There's nothing else to see between their legs.

The only bottom hole Fictionals have is the cloaca. Yes, they have chicken assholes and that's the only out for bodily waste like feces and urine.

"But Sea, how would they make NSFW content?"

Good question...

They have undergarments taking the resemblance of the nipples and genitals should they act out things like hentai. Think of them as stage props, it's like that. They look and act just like the real deal, but they're not functional. They're there for the looks only.

Fictionals' true forms' heads or faces don't have noses, ears, and mouths. All they have are their own eyes and so called "hair". Their hair is not actually made of hair, they're just nerves, tumors, and muscles clumped up together to look like hair.

I'm considering replacing their feet with roots, I think it makes a lot more sense. Their feet aren't functional to begin with. They move around on their long hands should they tear off their vessels. It also adds a certain cryptic vibe when they're on their hands instead of being bipedal. While they can kneel on their legs, they'd struggle having their hands off the ground for a long time.

Bonus stuff in here

[marionvonwolfstadt]

Would you write a continuation for the Nico x Jenson abo fic? Like them as endgame, realization of feelings or even smth you want with them

I have so little time it's concerning but I managed this, hope you enjoy this product of my brain that was created at 5 in the morning between 12 hour shifts and not checked even once, please don't be dissapointed <3

Tags: alpha Jenson Button, beta Nico Rosberg, mentioned rut-sex, mentioned Lewis Hamilton, post-retirement/family life, angsty thoughts

Word count: 1276

Pretending Part 2

Jenson woke up with a quiet groan and a stretch of his overtired muscles. His surroundings came slowly to him, first, the light when he rapidly blinked and then the rest, a splash of colours and shapes coming together to create the sight of their main bedroom — mostly white with warm tones of brown splashed here and there, the moist green of the plants a pleasant addition, the sun shining through thin white curtains making everything soft and warm. He basked in the feeling of sea wind blowing through the open terrace door for a few minutes, flexing his toes and enjoying the returning clearness of his mind just like after every rut.

Then he did what he did every morning after waking up since he and Nico moved in together — he checked if his husband was still by his side.

It became a habit of sorts, such a constant in his life that the existence of the gesture skipped his mind completely most of the time. Not this time though.

He knew Nico would be tired, he didn't want to wake him up, so putting his arm blindly to the side wasn't an option, he had to look first. The pleasant feelings coursing through his body fought with the usual fear that still, after so many years, had a cozy place in the pit of his stomach. Was Nico still here?

He could put it to dysregulated hormones after his rut, the way it made all alphas possessive of their mates, more fiercely protective, but he knew it wasn't just that. It was a strange feeling, living in constant doubt. It was chronic, became a background noise that you learned to ignore or embrace as a simple fact. He turned his head to the side.

Nico was sleeping soundly by his side, his beautiful face relaxed, mouth parted only slightly. His hair looked too good for someone who was just fucked senseless for three days straight by a very eager alpha. He almost looked interview-ready, apart from maybe the redness of his cheeks and a little bit of crusted saliva at the corner of his mouth. Jenson suspected that the makeup people would like to cover the bite marks on his neck too.

Jenson grinned to himself, the tension leaving his body before it had time to properly settle in. He needed to get up and shower, start cleaning and make Nico breakfast in bed, even though he knew his beta would be fussing over the crumbs in the sheets. They were covered in cum and lube anyway.

They had one day more before they had to pick up their daughter from the Rosbergs and go back to reality. Jens wanted to stay in their tiny bubble of two for a while longer.

Like that, he knew who Nico wanted, knew who he belonged to. They were joined and inseparable, the way it should always be. But as it stood, Jenson learned to live with whatever Nico gave him and he would be a liar if he said it wasn't enough.

Things took a turn between them when Nico won his first and only WDC. It somewhat broke the illusion of Lewis for the beta, their friendship crumbling in Mercedes. The way Nico managed to love him less opened up the possibility of loving Jenson more, of thinking of him in different ways. It was easier than JB expected, to approach tired Nico after the season ended, after they both recently retired, as just friends catching up, friends that knew each other pretty well in bed too. Yeah, it went quite easy from there.

Jenson suspected that Nico stayed because he needed him. After all, everyone wants to be loved. Jens could be loved a little less, but he didn't mind, he was surrounded by love plenty.

It didn't matter that Nico always bet on Lewis' winning a race, that he almost fawned over him to the media. Lew could win races, Jenson didn't really care after he'd retired, why would he care in 2024? Until Silverstone, he managed to fall into the false sense of security you could say. He supposed it was inevitable, that he'd be reminded even years later that he was a second choice, because maybe he was, but he was also the only choice, he was the one that had Nico to himself, not Lewis. He was the one to dance with their daughter to Tylor Swift songs as Nico recorded them with a fond smile on his wonderfully beautiful face. It was the way his husband cried out his name last night, in moments like that Jenson was sure Nico would stick to his choice. A choice to stay really happy.

Jenson believed in Nico's love for him, whatever its size was, in the love for their daughter. He wanted to believe that the love for Lewis was smaller now compared to the love for them. Nico was far from cruel, he was a good partner and a great dad. Jenson just wished they didn't live in the same building in the Principality as Hamilton did. It was a peculiar feeling, to acquire love for someone over the years, knowing all along that you're never going to be loved in equal measure. He could only hope and make sure Nico stayed, be good to him, like he always deserved, especially from the man who turned him down. Jens wouldn't change anything if it meant he would still have Nico in his life.

It wasn't always like that, okay between the Silver Arrows, Nico interviewing Lewis like he wanted to run him off and away from the paddock with just his gaze alone. Jenson recalled their joined gig as commentators when Lewis admitted that he was a better teammate now and the face Nico made when he heard the words.

Jenson wasn't stupid like some people claimed him to be, reckless and having a big ego back in the day maybe, but never stupid. He knew they matched, Nico and him in various aspects, if they didn't they wouldn't work out in the end. But there was still this feeling of fear, that if Lewis was ever different in his approach, if he one day changed his mind Jens would be left alone.

So his husband could root for his ex-teammate to win now, he could cry tears of joy if or should he say when Lewis gets the 8th title, in the end, it was Jens' quickly fading teeth marks on the back of Nico's neck, it was Nico's hair that tickled the tip of his nose as they were wakened up by their pup, in the end, it was Jens that got the good luck kiss before WEC races. In the end, Lewis mattered, but not enough. In Jens' opinion he still made an awful decision - not wanting Nico, but at least thanks to this it was Jenson who could reap the fruits, could have the most darling, beautiful man to himself, he should thank Lewis for being so goddamn blind. Well, maybe not.

Lewis pushed him to the brink when Jenson gave him peace and stability. It ought to be worth something, right?

If he told all that to Nico his mate would probably chuckle adorably and say he became much too philosophical in his old age and Jens would mock his use of an eye wrinkle cream in the most awful German accent he could manage. But Jenson preferred to stay in bed for now, getting his fill, looking at the best decision of his life, given to him by the worst mistake another man made.

[stupidstupidratcreatures]

preface that these are problems that it's only really possible for one to have in a particular and privileged set of circumstances

anyway i've been thinking about this a lot lately and. i've been out, sort of, as trans for a little bit over six years now, and i deeply, deeply regret not transitioning basically at all during that time. i said i had a name and i sporadically told people i had pronouns and that was the extent of it. no clothes shopping no voices no nothing.

currently this is manifesting as me being really sad about not going out of my way to get puberty blockers while those would still do anything. i hate my clothing, i hate my name, i hate the way people look at me on the street, but i think i could be more okay with all of that if i didn't also hate my voice. because the other three i can, like, reasonably avoid.

if i go looking for them i can find reasons to blame my parents instead of myself, and i'm probably right to, but what's really the point? of course they didn't do anything helpful, because why on earth would they? they love sitting on their asses and when i was a teenager they were even more explicit about not respecting me as a person.

and what about after that? sure, the excuse i made to myself was that i was being inactive because it would be less of a hassle to just wait until i was 18 so there was less bullshit, but even if that was true in a way that actually mattered it was still years in between becoming an adult and actually doing anything. not even behavioral or social stuff like voice training (again. caustic to even think about how my voice sounds) or clothing, just the stupid easy shit. go to pharmacy, sit on toilet, feel pain. it took two years for me to decide to actually get what i wanted.

i should be really clear: i've always known i've wanted this. even beyond the vague feeling of wanting out that i had for my entire life, i knew i wanted specifically these things for years and years. years that i just didn't do anything about. not for any reason. just a vague feeling that i wasn't allowed to get what i wanted, because they were things that i wanted

and i know i'm not actually old, and my life is closer to it starting than it ending. (i mean. god willing.) but it still hurts, and my voice still sounds like this, and this is the oldest i've ever been. also, shit is hitting the fan faster than ever, and i wish i was three years into transition isntead of one, because i wish i had had more time living as a human being before it goes to hell even more than it already has. again, particular and privileged set of circumstances.

none of this would sting so much if i wasn't also a dropout-via-quarantine and completely adrift and someone who has proven herself unable to keep a job. i'm starting college in the fall and it could have been my senior year. to quote my sister, we're going to be learning calculus at the same time. i don't know how positive that is for her, but it's terrifying and depressing to me. like, one or the other of "scatterbrained loser" and "closet case" would be... well, i guess i don't know if i would think it was fine. i probably wouldn't. but as it stands one makes it harder to deal with the other than it otherwise might be.

i don't know. not to talk about a website and a movie on a serious post, but everyone getting all misty-eyed about "there is still time" and the ending of i saw the tv glow is acid to me because of the above. of course there isn't "time". there's never been "time". there isn't "time" to get to a gas station when your tank runs out on the highway, but there isn't "time" to just keep driving either. you pull over on the side of the road because you don't want to be hit by a car. and then you call a number and pray.

i think i thought this would be easier for whatever reason. i have no excuse for this, i've known and read more than is practical or useful about gigantic interlocking impersonal systems of oppression and exploitation for about ten years now, but i just thought they would be nicer to me.