#he also suffered the same condition

[monterraverde]

how did rika get her scars??

//IM SO HAPPY SOMEONE FINALLY ASKED!

So a majority of her scars were earned through the rough and tumble lifestyle of training dragons and ground-types (Which tend to be extremely large monsters), and from her many years of battling escaped Paradox pokemon, but a few stick out as notable.

The scars over her eye and on her chin were given to her by her father when she was about 8, he broke a glass bottle over her head while she was defending her mother and sister from his rage.

In the center of her chest is a harsh scar of almost mangled looking flesh with a notable divot in the center, which was earned after she got pinned under a Slither Wing and stabbed with its claw. She only survived because of the other Elites rushing her to the hospital, where she stayed in the ICU for several months. It now affects her ability to breathe freely, and any strikes to her chest will result in her breaking down into a coughing fit, very easy to knock the wind out of her.

On her arms, they're not so much scars, but Tera crystal embedded just under the top layer of skin. (Pictured below. They're on both arms, even though the art only depicts them on one side. Drawn by Syd! @earth-master ) These were earned during the first venture into Area zero with Giovanni and Red. Fighting against the ghostly remnant of Sada's AI in the labs network, she was afflicted with a condition known as "Teralysis", where Tera crystal starts replacing the bodies soft tissue with crystal. The condition has 4 stages in total, but she thankfully didn't go past stage 2, as at stage 4 you become fully crystalized if you can't make the necessary saves. Her arms were the only things encased in crystal after that battle, thankfully, which shed off slowly before Matsuba got to her and managed to help cure her of the worst of it, the embedded crystals being the last remnant of the condition.

I'll also include a full scar map drawn by @g1ga-byte under the cut, as it's entirely topless, but yeah! That's the basic jist of her most notable scars, feel free to ask questions if you're curious about specific ones :D

-

[scribesynnox]

I finished reading Victory Conditions by astolat on ao3 and I will never recover. That fic has fuckin’ rewired my brain. It has rocked my world view. It is a core memory now. I will never be the same.

[tyrannuspitch]

"thor is not evil" "thor is not an idiot" "thor is trying" yes! yes!!! thank you!!!!! finally a little reason around here!!!

"thor is a good brother" Ah. well, um, no, i'm not sure i'd go THAT far,

[teplavecernice]

i have grown up in a similar situation although different and much less extreme. my mum is in the lower half of middle class, but my dad is at least upper middle class (we do not know the full extend of his wealth). in their marriage they had separate finances and one joint account to cover household expenses to which they would contribute equally - at least in theory. in reality my father would continue to give the same amount of money even amidst inflation (this includes the 2008 crisis) and slowly slowly his contribution wouldn't even cover his own share of expenses and my mum had to reach into her own savings to keep the household running. in regards to day to day expenses (grocery shopping, clothes, toys, school supplies etc.) i had basically the same experience as if i was raised by a single mother.

all while my father made several times more money than her that he was just pocketing/spending on things for his own enjoyment. those things included family vacations several times a year (among his solo vacations that were about just as frequent and up to a month long, and during the time he spent on those vacations and often even after he would not contribute a dime bcs he had too many "expenses" - those times were the hardest financially). those family vacations were very costly but at the same he would look for any way to spend as little as possible on us (me, my mum and our pets). this included things such as buying rotten food bcs it was cheaper or not buying me (a small child) water when i was thirsty in over 30 degrees weather bcs it was "too expensive". all while he got to enjoy all the luxury he wanted. after those family vacations he would also refuse to contribute any money for running the household. and let me be clear - he was making insane amounts of money whether he was on vacation or not, he actually barely went to work ever (he would work 2-5 hour days how many or little days a week he wanted to and it would not affect his income).

he also pushed me to go to private school (which i would attend for 8 years) that he promised to pay for - he payed for the first 2 semesters, was late on payment on the 3rd one and when he didn't pay for the 4th one i was faced with the threat of being expelled. my mum ended up having to take from her own savings so i could stay in the school he wanted me to go to. that school tuition continued to be a major burden on our family for the next years and was one of the reasons i decided to drop out and complete my high school education at a different school in a long-distance program.

and i don't even wanna bring all of his emotional and mental abuse into this, this tirade is long enough as is. just know that everything i have described here and also everything else he would twist into either him being the victim or it somehow being the fault of either me or my mum.

so yeah, the description of being an exotic pet feels fitting. i was an exotic pet for him and my mum was the animal handler.

thankfully since my parents divorce there is the threat of legal investigation into his finances (which would for sure put him behind bars) looming over him if he doesn't pay alimony so he's been paying like clockwork. that money has allowed me to support myself in uni while also taking care of my mental and physical health. so i do recognize and see that my position is still very much privileged in certain aspects, but ever since i was little i lived in a world of dual class - half of my experiences, especially day-to-day life was pretty much lower middle class; the other half was very much upper middle class. and it is really confusing for a lot of people including me sometimes that i did grow up in a large suburban home and went on several vacations a year but at the same time sometimes we would have to cut down on our grocery expenses to get by and i would often have to wear clothes that i grew out of.

As a kid, when your parents are poor, you're poor. If they don't have money, that means none of you have money. But if someone's parents are rich, that doesn't necessarily mean the kid is. Sometimes rich peoples' kids aren't rich kids, they're just some rich freak's exotic pets that can talk but aren't allowed to.

[couldeatthatgirlforlunch]

A Day in Life

Synopsis: A day in the life of Jason Todd. Also, he's a househusband now. Oh, and a little plot twist.

Pairing: Househusband!Jason Todd X Gn!Reader; Platonic!Batfam

Tw: Canon level angst for Jason; Some sexual innuendos; Writer apparently doesn't know how to finish a story anymore; This is pretty slice-of-life so maybe boring?; English is not my first language.

Word count: 3,8k

Requested? No.

General masterlist | A Day in Life - Series masterlist

Wake up, make out, get up. First steps of your everyday routine. Sometimes making out turns into something more, but not today.

From his past life, as Robin, Jason learned a lot about discipline. As much as he tried to forget everything and everyone from his past before you, some habits die hard, although with time, with you and with therapy, he accepted that not all of his experience was bad or should be thrown away just because of one sociopathic clown who hurt him. Yes, Jason died, came back angry and did a lot of shit. But he was still alive and this could be a second chance.

While you, his darling spouse, get ready for work, Jason gets up, puts on his apron, fills the dog bowl for Daphne — your little brown dachshund that you adopted together four months after getting married —, opens the doors to the garden, so the dog can do whatever, and finally starts making breakfast and lunch. Breakfast so you two can eat together and lunch for you to eat at work. Sometimes you both meet up and eat together at your office or a restaurant. Today, that's not the case.

Simple yogurt with fresh fruits and nuts, coupled with a slice of chocolate cake he baked the day prior, eggs, toast and coffee for breakfast. As for your lunch box, a natural sandwich, salad, fruits and juice. He also fills up your two liter water bottle, so you feel pressured have no excuse but to stay hydrated.

Food. Until he was 12 his relationship with food was complicated, to stay the least. At first, his beloved but troubled mom would be in no condition to cook him three or more nice and fulfilling meals a day for a growing boy, he either had to learn and make do with quick instant food, eggs and old bread, or starve, since money was something he only saw when it was being handled to her drug dealer. His father was even worse. Jason loved his mom. Still suffers for her. He hated his father who was the one making her addiction worse. He’s still happy he died.

Living on the streets, food was a dream. A bad dream. It either came from trash or he had to do things that made him feel humiliated and guilty just to get some. And it was gone in a flash, he was so hungry he devoured it all in a second, and then his belly hurt.

Then he came. Jason loved his new father. Loved his new grandfather. Loved their food. So healthy, abundant and full of taste. So fun to prepare. He learned a lot from Alfred because he loved to spend time with him, play with the ingredients and make everyone and himself happy with the results.

But then he had those memories wiped out of his mind, (un)fortunately they came back, but at that time food was in the back of his mind. Sure, he didn't have to worry about starving, crime paid more than enough for that, but he didn't put much thought into any of it.

Now, with you, he's making new memories with food. He cooked and baked a lot with you and for you throughout all your relationship, and you did the same for him. He loves his kitchen, just like the rest of your house. The pantry and fridge are always full thanks to you. You take good care of him. You make his trust in you be worth it. And he reciprocates it. Healthy and nice food that brings comfort and makes you roll your eyes. Especially after he started frequenting cooking classes as a hobby, again, thanks to you.

After you are gone with a full belly and a pet in the ass (just like him, honestly), he continues his routine. He changes clothes and goes to the gym. Jason never stopped exercising, but the lack of all the activity vigilantism entails and with all the treats you two have, he started getting more soft. You loved it, he hated it. — Okay he didn't hate it, he just wasn't the most happy with it. Roy thought it was kinda funny, until Jason pointed out he also got softer after Lian. You honestly couldn't see why all that softness they were talking about was so bad since they were still very muscular and defined, just less dry and more snuggly. You honestly thought your Jaybird could go even further. — So the addiction of yoga to his routine happened.

After that, he goes straight home, eats, showers, takes care of his appearance to keep looking like a proper hubby that you can shove on your bitter frenemies faces, and makes sure to keep the maintenance of the house, so you can come back tired from work and enjoy a perfect house to rest on.

Hygiene. Another things that was complicated with his biological family. His father wouldn't touch a single plate or broom, and would beat and scream at his mom if she didn't put her high (again, because of him) ass up and did the labor. Most often than not, their house was messy, had a bad smell that his little nose was so used to that it's not like he minded, and had insects around. His clothes were dirty hand-me-downs, some fit him, some didn't, a lot of them had holes. His hair tangled and itchy.

When he went to the streets, it just got worse.

Bruce and Alfred fixed that. He finally learned what stink was because he only knew good and neutral scents. His clothes fit him. Everything around him was clean and well-kept. No holes, no stains. Hair always trimmed, soft and clean. Well maintained.

When he came back, cleanliness was basic. Of course he is gonna keep everything around him clean. Habit and common sense, you know? Clothes his size because why the hell would he use hand-me-downs when he can just buy his own? And they had to be the right size for his new 6’2 and almost 200 lbs body. Hair? Whatever. Always washed but as long as it didn't look ridiculous he didn't have time to put much thought on his appearance. He was genuinely surprised you were attracted to him at first sight.

Being with you, he learned to enjoy the little things in life again. Sometimes he finds himself unmoving in front of a random room of the house, or in front of the mirror, trying to grasp if it's all real, If this is really his life, if that's how he looks. His mind flashes memories of his childhood home and his current home. He ignores the memories of the manor not only because of the betrayal he felt for Bruce, but also because the manor was from the Wayne's. He was a Wayne. He is not anymore. This is him. His new house, with you, is what he wished he had growing up. What he always dreamed of. Love. Company. And comfort. He felt all of that while being a Wayne, until he despised the Wayne's. Not the couple that died decades ago or the centuries old descendants. But his father and his siblings.

On days where he doesn't take care of the house, he practices his hobbies. He now has time to do it all, surprising you, his therapist, Roy, and himself, he did cooking, gardening, pottery, crocheting and of course, reading. You paid for all his classes, praised him on his achievements, added his creations to the decor of the house, accompanied him on any event or place related to his interests, gave him his own library in one of the rooms in the house. He even made some friends between middle-aged women and the only other househusband and stay-a-home dad that frequented those places.

It was very funny and cute seeing rough, huge, leather jacket wearing and scarred Jason Todd telling jokes to 50-year-old white moms/grandmas and sometimes even babysitting their kids, pets and plants. You knew he could be a good dad one day if you decided to have kids. He was also more than happy to have just you, Daphne and good friends. And plants.

Warmth. When he was a kid his parents broke the heater during a fight, he wondered if they didn't have money to fix it, even with his father's activities, or if his father just refused to fix it. Anyhow, it was always cold in Gotham, freezing on winter, his dirty clothes with holes didn't help much. The streets didn't seem much different in that aspect. The manor kept him warm when he wasn't seven feet under the dirt, in a casket. When he came back, Jason always wore the warmest of clothes, even while sweating, he didn't know why. Now he did. Your house is always warm. Your body is always warm. Comfort. Your love gave him comfort. Warmth. A reason to live.

Love. His mom. Bruce and Alfred. You.

After he was done and rested for a little, Jason took Daphne for a walk in the way to the grocery shop. He wanted to try a new receipt you saw on tiktok today for dinner and had to get more flour and something for the filling.

After a few minutes of walking on his perfectly nice looking and safe neighborhood — nothing like crime alley. The type of neighborhood he saw on the television and imagined those other happy kids his age living and envied them. Dreamed of being adopted into one of their families while jumping from orphanage to orphanage. It never happened. He just got more abused. And then the manor was so isolated that you could only see mansions and plants all around. So big and far away that they looked empty of life. — he got there and strapped the dog to a post, next to a smiley golden retriever.

He got in and- fuck it, I'm going home. The empanadas can wait another day.

— Jason? Oh my god. Jason! Is that you?! — The infuriatingly familiar loud voice calls out from the middle of the shop and all heads turn to look. Shit, he can't go now without embarrassing himself in front of the cashier of his favorite and most visited shop. So he just nods, takes a basket and walks as if there was nothing interesting happening. It worked with the others costumers, unfortunately, Dick thought it was way too interesting and forgot his own basket that only contained eggs and cereal, and started following him around, this time, with a less surprised tone.

— Hey, Dick. — Jason idly muttered, that just made his coff coff brother indignant.

— Hey, Dick?! What the hell? Where were you? It's been three years! We thought you were dead! Or kidnapped! We never stopped looking for you! We were worried! We mourned! What happened? — Was it bad that Jason didn't want to give him a real answer? Probably. Especially with how much his therapist, who he saw on the days he didn't go to the gym, told him he should try to mend things with his family. So much so that he started actually contemplating it recently. But if he did it, it was going to be on his own time. Not by bumping into them in the grocery store. Oh, well. Jason was always good at adapting. The best.

And wow, three years had passed? Makes sense. Recovery does take time and he's been really happy for a while. Jason still remembers the day he decided to quit everything. It was the same day he decided you were the one, truthfully he always knew you were marriage material, the perfect one for him, out of his league, straight out of his most amazing dreams, peak goal for him, but he wasn't sure if he deserved to be the one you should be stuck with forever. He desperately wanted to, but he had to commit. Ride or die. He loved you, now more than ever, and didn't want to waste your time. He was still a bit messy at the time, but you made it all better, he was a lot better than he was before you came into the picture. You were the right choice. Jason always took you seriously, he was just insecure. So, while still in around eight months of relationship, he quit everything.

He quit his family. He quit vigilantism. He searched for recovery. And a year and a half later, with a little more than two years of dating, he made the big proposal. You married on your three-year anniversary. Got Daphne four months later. It's been around three or four months ever since.

While Dick’s math might not be exact, it is not necessary in this context, the point came across just fine.

He also knew that the fact that you both decided to not leave Gotham was going to bite him in the ass one day. One way or another.

— What happened? Oh, well. I retired. Got married. And now I'm a dad. — Daphne was like a daughter to him, so it was the same, right?

His nonchalant reply didn't seem to satisfy the other, though. Todd could see it, the urge to strangle him in his eyes. Dick wouldn't strangle his dead missing little brother, would he?

— You… You what? — Dick was in disbelief.

— You guys searched for me? Thanks, I guess? It means a lot. — Jason just sniffed and went on his way, leaving Grayson behind, paralyzed.

Maybe he could be fast enough and get out of there before the older one got a grasp of his senses back and followed him out. Part of him felt hope, the other heard yours and his therapist voices in his head, and the nagging was annoying. Maybe he never stopped being a “grump”, like you always amusedly said.

Oh, no. Here he comes again. Jason suppresses an eye-roll.

— Stop. Can you really explain? — The mix of emotions was almost overwhelming, an urge to cry, punch a wall, punch Jason's face, scream and who knows what more was running through Dick's body.

Jason sighed and finally addressed him completely. Tone lower so no one could hear.

— Okay. I met someone… Someone good. Someone special. A civilian. I was tired of everything. So I decided to retire and made sure none of you could find me. I'm surprised Roy and Lian kept the secret from you, though. Anyway. Now I'm a stay-at-home hubby, have a dog and go to therapy. You happy? — A beat of silence. — Hey, don't make that face… I was going to tell you guys eventually… When I felt like it… It's not like you guys saw me a lot. How much time did it take for you all to miss me? I made an appearance once in a while when someone asked for help and that's it. Alfred knew everything so if you’re gonna be mad at anyone, be at him too, not just me… And Roy. Don't forget Roy.

— A-Are you kidding me? Oh, yes, blame the butler! You couldn't even tell us? Like “hey guys, I'm gonna retire and take some time for myself for a while. Also, come to my wedding!” I wanted to be invited, you know?! Why didn't you invite me? Did you at least invite Alfred? Did- — Jason rolled his eyes and cut his rant.

— Yes, Alfred was there. Front row and everything. — Dick shrieked.

— T-That’s not the point! — His voice raised slightly from exasperation and both of them checked around for anyone's attention, then came back to the conversation.

Jason raised a hand to interrupt him and took a deep breath.

— Look. I wasn't in a nice place at the time, okay? I'm better now… And I was going to talk to you guys sooner rather than later… — Jason let a moment of vulnerability shine, hoping that would melt his brother's heart and fix things. It did. — We will have a second wedding when we renovate our vows in our 5th anniversary. You can be there… Everyone can be there. — Jason cleared his throat to interrupt the other again. — But now I have to get home in time to make dinner for my honeyboo, so why don't we… Stay in contact and… One of those days everyone can have dinner together and catch up, huh?

Dick took one of the deepest breaths of his whole life. Jason pursed his lips.

— Okay… — He stuck a finger in his face roughly. — But don't disappear again. Or else I promise I’m gonna personally make everyone track you down, understood? — Jason snorted. As if Tim and Bruce wouldn't do it already once they knew everything. As if Bruce didn't secretly keep track of him this whole time. Unless… Unless everyone changed and he didn't know his… His family anymore.

Why did it make him feel weird?

— Yes, boss. — Jason saluted him and left.

— Relax… — You elongated the word. — Nothing bad it's gonna happen… — You went behind Jason and tried rubbing his broad shoulders to chase the tenseness away. The sight and feel of his muscles almost made you drool, and you blinked to focus again.

— How do you know? — You pursed your lips and went to his side to try to make him take his eyes off of cleaning the countertop for the 4th time due to anxiety.

— Because they love you. And they care about you. And they miss you. — Jason deadpanned you. — Just give it a chance. If anything goes wrong, we will just kick them out and you never have to talk to them, ever again. We can even move if you want. Or go on a vacation to the same place we had our honeymoon, I can wear that skimpy piece you like… Spoil you rotten… — Your voice lowered seductively and you pressed your body to his side, running your hand up and down his arms with some pressure.

Jason’s mind went blank and he was speechless for a few seconds. Your eyebrows raised with a small, convincing smile that made all his worries go away. He sighed.

— Okay… Okay, you’re right… — He leaned down and sneaked an arm around your waist. You both shared a slow and wet kiss, bordering between sensual and calming. Unfortunately, he had to wait a few hours before having some action. He pulled his face away a few centimeters, looking you in the eyes. — I thought I had ripped that thing. — You blinked.

— You just might have. But I bought another one because I looked too good on it not to wear it again. — You shared a chuckle when the doorbell rang. You both looked at the door, then at each other. — Want me to get it? — You ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm the last of his nerves. Jason swallowed.

— No. Have to get it over with. — He took a deep breath and then let out. Pulling away from your embrace. — Put the juice on the table for me, please? — You hummed and nodded.

Without giving a second thought, he walked in long strides and abruptly opened the door.

It was like that scene in Avengers: End Game when on one side there was just Captain America against the whole Thanos's army, just staring at each other.

— Are you wearing an apron? — Damian snarked with an eyebrow raised. Jason looked down. Yes, he was. Good start.

— Take your shoes off, there’s other shoes for you all there. And here I was having hope that at fifteen you wouldn't be a demon anymore. — Jason said sarcastically and gave them space to enter.

As soon as they got in the neighborhood they were all already skeptical. If you were the only one working, how much do you earn to live in such a nice area and with this nice house? They could even see a pool in the backyard and there were TWO expensive cars in the driveway. Jason said he quit all of the crime lord thing, did he keep the savings? Did he invest?

The little dog came running and barking, taking their attention away from the house and their shoes, Damian immediately crouched to pet her. Jason let a side of his lips go up. At least that hasn't changed.

— Her name is Daphne. — Jason spoke over the cooing of Duke and Cass at the dog. He locked eyes with Bruce who had an unreadable expression on his face. He looked older, Jason didn't know how to feel about that. Then gazed at Dick, who had a shit eating grin, Alfred, whose satisfied smile warmed his heart, and Tim, who was analyzing the space while changing shoes.

— Nice place. So, what does your partner do? — Are they committing fraud? — You appeared from the corner and replied for him.

— I direct the Queen Industries’s Gotham’s office. — You answered softly with a polite smile, stopping besides Jason, who wrapped an arm around you. Everyone's gaze turning on you made you feel shy, but you held on with confidence.

— Oh, wow, so Jason really is a malewife. — Your eyes widened in surprised and you couldn't hold back a laugh. Jason let a small smile graze his lips, coaxing the easiness out of him.

— I offered to pay cleaning and cooking service, but he wanted to do things himself. — You say, a little afraid they would get angry at you for “slavering” their Jason.

— Did you buy those cars outside? — Wow, Tim really was as skeptical as Jason had said.

— Hmhmm. — You nodded simply, as if it was nothing.

Jason's siblings raised their eyebrows and Bruce cleared his throat, and took a step forward, feet clad in fluffy slippers. He offered a hand and presented himself politely to you. You wondered how much of that was his persona and how much was just a father meeting his son's partner.

While giving them a tour of the house, the family — aside from Alfred who already knew it all — observed the details, happy memories in the form of pictures of trips, your marriage, birthdays, anniversaries, Daphne's growing stages, spontaneous moments that just deserved to be eternalized, trinkets, handmade pots, plants, Daphne’s toys, and the decor that was just a mix of you both. No guns in the walls, no corpses buried in the backyard, no blood stains. The only signals that it was their Jason living here and not a clone were the books, pictures and hidden security measures. 

It was… Good. Peaceful. Clearly the change in scenario helped him. It hurt them a little, some more than others, that it took him cutting them off for him to start healing, although, maybe opening up this new side of him for them meant that it wasn't just that. And it wasn't. The fault didn't fall completely on them. Nor on Jason. And one person, you, can't be the solution for all global crisis. Mental health is complex. Trauma is complicated. Past can't be changed, but the future can. 

That night, everyone enjoyed Jason's cooking, Daphne and the new future.

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@wandalfnation

[ghada-knan20]

✌️Please help us... We face death every day in the shadow of the war in Gaza

Hello, I am Ghada

In Gaza, we live day by day, but every day is becoming more difficult. The cruel war that left us no choice but to live in a worn-out tent, constantly exposed to winds and storms, our suffering increases day by day. We have no safe shelter, no food, no water, and even our most basic medical needs we cannot get.🤍🙏

I am a mother of a baby with a critical health condition. His condition is getting worse day by day, and the more I look into his eyes, the more I feel my heart breaking because I can't give him the treatment or the food he needs to survive. My husband also suffers from a severe war injury that made him unable to move, and his suffering increases my anxiety and sadness.

In these difficult circumstances, we have become hopeless. There is no food, no water, no money to buy the simplest necessities of life, and diseases are spreading around us due to poor hygiene and deplorable sanitary conditions. The shelling is continuing, and we do not know when the next shelling will come. Fear fills our hearts, but hope in God still pushes us to stay steadfast.

Now we urgently need your help. Every donation, no matter how small, will have a huge impact on our lives. The money raised will help us buy food, water and treatment for my children and my husband, and will help us provide what it takes to survive.

We know that there are many families who are going through the same difficult conditions, but we appeal to you to extend a helping hand to us now. We know that this is worth nothing compared to what we need, but there is nothing greater than the hope that you give us with your help.

If you can donate or if you know someone who can help us, we urgently need your support now more than ever.

Please, don't leave us in our fight for survival. We trust in God first and then in your support, which may be a reason to save our lives.

✅️Vetted by @gazavetters, my number verified on the list is ( #289 )✅️

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[the-knight-of-the-stars]

Are we gonna talk about how that finale entirely erased any conversation about class divisions or are we too focused on ships?

Are we gonna talk about how Caitlyn for a good chunk of the season willingly enforces violence and opression against the lowest class, no doubt directly causing more deaths and suffering, and she is forgiven by the narrative without any meaningful reflecting?

Her great moment getting together with Vi is right after she JUST had a conversation with Jinx where we see she STILL doesn't recognize any class bias she clearly has, insted making it about HER.

Her and the other enforcers are treated like noble heroes in the final battle, all the blame put on Ambesa. Vi's happy ending is getting into a relationship with the exact type of person who perpetuated all the suffering she endured as a child.

Are we gonna talk about how Jayce never leaves his privilege pedestal, never actually reflects on how he was also enforcing violence to the people of the undercity and living on his bliss of progress at THEIR expense?

Jayce, who got help on every step of the way to get to where he is, who wasn't disabled, who never lived the kind of poverty or class obstacles Viktor did, who never recognized the harm he enabled and was complicit to, HE was the one to tell Viktor "People build their own destiny." and "There is beauty in imperfection" ?????

Not to mention the whole bit where he implies Viktor did all that because he wanted to "eradicate what he thought was weakness"??? Didn't we stablished Viktor wanted to HELP THE PEOPLE FROM THE UNDERCITY TO HAVE BETTER LIFE CONDITIONS?? don't try to gaslight me.

I know this is just a TV show, but I need to remind everyone that what perpetuates opressive, discriminatory and violent systems as long and as deeply as they do is indiference. Is turning your head and enabling others to stay ignorant.

Edit: You guys are misunderstanding me. And I admit it is probably my fault, I wrote this high with emotion I wasn't as eloquent.

Jayce's exact choice of words or his time living in the alternate world is nowhere near my point.

My point is, that the narrative is establishing that the privileged character, is the one that has to show (and is quite literally, textually, always the one to show) the underprivileged character that "he was looking at life the wrong way." Forgetting that Viktor's journey of feeling powerless was greatly influenced by the fact he was poor and from the undercity.

That's what I meant by it erasing the part of the plot about class systems. In the end, the story only requires Jayce to understand Viktor's struggle on a superficial level, but the text never recognizes that it as the product of a deeply rooted SYSTEMIC ISSUE. One Jayce and even Viktor on some level, benefited from and perpetuated.

Understanding Viktor still doesn't give him any moral ground, and nobody ever challenges him on that because the story isn't interested in that anymore.

And the same with Caitlyn. She knows what she did what's wrong, fine, she feels bad. Like I said, she still has a class bias, and no character challenges her on it again because the story derails to magic and fighting and whatnot.

The plot just forgets (or ignores) that layer of the story despite it being so prominent up until now.

And ignoring the class discussion does a disservice to every single character because they were initially built on it. You can see it in how they lose the essence they had on s1.

I know y'all love the characters and want to empathize with all their motivations, okay? But the fundamental issue is that characters also represent things, and more so in a story as political as this one. We also have the right to point out that the show told us they represented something and then abandoned that narrative.

What do I think they could have done differently? If I tell you scene by scene we could be here for an entire year. The gist of it is: I think they should have stuck to the character themes they already had established.

Vi as someone fiercely loyal to the undercity beyond her relationship with Powder/Jinx, and being "cursed" by the role of the older sister. Jayce as someone with good intentions but who is ultimately limited by his blind idealism. Mel as a cunning politician who thinks she is on the right path because she isn't violent like her mother, not realizing she is still perpetuating it. Caitlyn as someone kind and compassionate who realizes the institutions she believed in are fundamentally flawed, and because of the way they are built will never be on the side of kindness. Etc, etc.

None of that gets any meaningful resolution.

I am glad if you liked it, or got something from it, you are entitled to your opinion.

I wanted to say this because I was angry, and still am. Because there was so much incredible potential, and honestly, to me, it feels like the writers chickened out on actually saying something in the end.

That's all I have to say about that.

[dollfacefantasy]

Like Lovers Do

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: Bored with the RPD's fundraising banquet, you pull Leon away to have some fun in a storage closet.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, public sex, friends with benefits

word count: 2.1k

a/n: the chris and leon drabble is next i swear. i just change my mind like every five seconds lmao. i hope everyone enjoys :) as always, i appreciate all the reblogs and comments <3

Applause sounds throughout the banquet hall as Leon flashes his awkward smile. He holds up the small, cheap trophy he’d won, the words Rookie of the Year displayed on the plaque at the base. He’s quick to walk away from the microphone and exit the stage, returning to his seat next to you. Your boss takes his place, but your attention is consumed by him.

“Wow. I see how it is. Don’t even mention me in your speech for your prestigious award,” you say in a hushed voice, a grin spreading across your features.

His cheeks tinge pink as his own smile graces your vision. “I did mention you. I said my partner,” he responds, “Plus, don’t act like you really care about these things.”

You roll your eyes playfully. It was true. You didn’t care about the little superlatives the department gave out for entertainment at the annual fundraising banquet. But that wouldn’t stop you from complaining about your loss to Leon and his perceived lack of appreciation for you.

“I do care actually. And I guess that’s true, but it wasn’t very specific,” you say, “If I’d won, I would have mentioned you.”

Now it’s his turn to roll his eyes as he shakes his head. “My sincerest apologies,” he says, connecting his eyes with yours.

Just seeing him like this was getting you all worked up. He looked as handsome as you’d ever seen him in his suit. You’d also been wanting to ditch this thing for a while now. You’d shown up and said hi to everyone as you were expected to do. Now you’d grown tired of watching your colleagues galavant around with their dates and swap stories from the job.

“Hmmm… well you know. I think I have a way you could make it up to me,” you say, keeping your voice quiet to not catch the attention of anyone sitting near you.

Leon raises an eyebrow, but of course, he knew exactly what you meant. You both were insatiable for one another. That small lilt in your voice alone clued him in. You’d almost conditioned him to pop a boner when he heard it.

“Do you?” he teases back.

“Mhm,” you nod, rubbing your hand up and down his thigh beneath the table, “Follow me in a couple minutes.”

You rise from your seat. You make sure to be quiet and not draw any attention to yourself, but your hands still rest on your stomach, giving the appearance that you’re suffering some sort of sudden illness. You walk away from the tables and over to the hallway doors, the points of your heels softly clicking against the ground as you go.

Once you’re out, you turn back and watch Leon through the little slit of a window in the door. You see him wait for a few minutes and then look around as if he’s concerned for where you’ve gone. Then he rises in the same way you did and makes his way to the same set of doors.

As he opens them, a giggle bursts from your lips and you pull his body against your own. The two of you lean in for a few kisses. “Nice work, superstar. I’m sure the next thing you’ll be winning is an oscar,” you tease.

“Shut up,” he grumbles as that blush grows a little stronger. He nips at your bottom lip and deepens the kiss before you pull away to walk further down the hall.

The RPD held this event at this place every single year. It was the first for both you and Leon, both freshly graduated. You look around curiously at your surroundings as you head to another door near the ones you’d entered from. You notice the hallway lined with academy graduation photos. Upon closer examination, you spot yourself in the one hanging next to the new door 

“Aww, we look so young here,” you coo, looking at the framed picture of your and Leon’s class. 

A chuckle comes from over your shoulder before you feel him kissing up your neck. “It was only a year ago,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, but you have such a baby face here,” you tease.

“What can I say? A year of working with you has really worn me down,” he replies.

He cracks open the door, and you see inside is just a storage closet. You pull him by the collar of his suit into the small space. He follows eagerly and pushes you up against the wall.

“I’m so sure, Mr. Rookie of the Year,” you taunt, catching him in another kiss.

Your hand slides into his hair, threading through the blonde locks as your lips move with his. Meanwhile, his palms coast up your side, feeling the smooth fabric of your party dress beneath his fingers. His foot knocks into your ankle, a small signal for you to spread your legs.

“Well it’s not so shocking when you consider that I only won because half the time I’m on the job, I’m cleaning up your messes,” he jokes between kisses.

“I think between the two of us, you’re the messy one,” you say back and turn around to deepen the kiss.

His left hand rises to your breast on the same side, squeezing the mound and drawing a tender sigh from you. His right slides down your thigh and lifts your leg by the crux of your knee. He grinds his growing bulge against your panties, a soft moan falling from his lips at the familiar sensation.

This was far from the first time the two of you had done this. It was far from the first time you’d done this with other people only a few rooms away. At work, you’d done it in the bathrooms, the locker room, the dark room, the storage room in the other wing of offices. You’d even done it in Leon’s cruiser once on a boring night. Sometimes it felt surprising you even managed to make it to a secluded place.

You weren’t even fully sure of what you and Leon were to each other. Neither of you had ever put a title on this dance you did. You both let yourselves run on pure lust without much care for fine details. If you were being honest, you were pretty sure you were in love with him. You’d had a crush on him since your first day in the academy. He’d had you hooked on him since the first time you slept together on the night of your graduation in a drunken hurricane of unfiltered desire.

In your heart, not much had changed since that night. The two of you are still wrapped up in a flurry of kisses as he slowly rocks against you, grunting quietly. His eyes flutter shut as he sinks into the feeling of your body around his. Lowering his head, he starts kissing your neck again. Your noises are the same volume as his, just a bit whinier.

“We gotta be quick,” you mumble against the side of his head. You drag your nose against his soft tendrils of hair. A shaky breath blows against the side of his head.

“Don’t worry about that, baby. You heard ‘em out there. I get things done fast and efficiently,” he teases as his lips unlatch from your neck.

The cocky expression on his face only got you hotter. You pull him into a more aggressive kiss, your noses mashing against one another. His breaths fan over your face as his hands tug your panties down to your knees. He then cups both of your legs behind the knees, folding you in half against the wall.

He pins you there with his own weight as he pulls himself out of his pants. His fingers fish a condom out of his pocket and tear the foil quickly before tossing it aside, leaving it for some poor person to find at a later date. You don’t think of that in the moment though. You’re more enraptured with how you can feel the heat of his tip nudging at the wetness between your legs even with the latex barrier between you.

“Put it in,” you whimper and squirm in his grasp. The teasing side of you was fading fast as need took over.

He grins with a mocking look in his eyes, but he obliges you. He slips it in and lets out a deep breath, savoring the way you squeeze around him.

“Think you should’ve won most desperate,” he teases, “Or maybe neediest little slut.”

You go to defend yourself, but all that comes out is a whine. The confident side of him rears its head. It was kind of funny to you how your dynamic would shift once he got you craving his cock. Another mewl escapes you as his hips retract and push forward again.

“What was that? You know I’m right. You couldn’t even wait to get back to your apartment,” he continues.

He begins pumping his hips for real, and all you can get out for a moment are broken whimpers. He fucked you just right, always did. He was blessed with a thick cock that rubbed up against your insides in a way that felt like heaven. Your legs clamp against his sides as your head tilts back against the wall. The thrum of the bass starts vibrating through the cement again, letting you know they had turned on the music again in the other room.

“Fuck Leon…” you breathe before crying out sharply as he rotates his hips to hit your sweet spot.

Your own hand flies to your mouth to cover it and muffle any other noises. He smiles at the sight and kisses your cheek, resting his forehead against your temple.

“That’s right, gotta keep quiet. If anyone walked by and heard, we’d both be getting fucked,” he says and continues rocking the both of your bodies as he thrusts into you.

You nod. Your other arm wraps around him tight to keep yourself supported. You’re starting to sweat, but you can feel that he is too. Fucking fully clothed probably wasn’t the smartest idea either of you had indulged in, but it felt too good for you too honestly care. Your hand slips down of your face as the pleasure takes over a bit more.

“Leon… fuck, I can’t…” you moan softly.

He guides your hand back to your lips before returning his own to your knee to keep you up. His fingers dig into your legs with a bruising grip and he thrusts quicker.

“Yeah? You gonna cum already, baby? That’s pretty fast. Maybe that’s another award you should win,” he pants.

“Shut up,” you mumble against your hand as your hips start involuntarily rolling against his.

Your breasts push up against his chest as your body writhes against the wall. He just keeps going, wanting to work you to the edge you were fast approaching. His shaft slides in and out over and over. You smile as your head spins with the pleasure.

“I feel it coming,” he whispers, “I feel you getting all tight. Just cum for me. Let it out.”

You didn’t need to be told twice. You let the coil inside you snap and moan into the palm of your hand. You buck and bury your head in the crook of his neck. His eyes close, focusing everything he has on his own release. It doesn’t take much longer before he’s attempting to silence his groans against your flesh. His hips jump and his knees quiver for a moment.

He holds inside you for a moment longer, letting the both of you come down before you attempt acting normal again. When that time comes though, he carefully pulls out of you and helps you back onto your feet. Your legs are kind of wobbly, but you maintain your balance. You work on fixing your dress and hair as Leon gets rid of the condom and puts himself back together.

You reach down to pull your panties up, but he stops you, shaking his head and smiling at you.

“Give ‘em to me,” he says.

You stare at him for a moment, in some form of disbelief, but you go with it. You liked the idea just as much as he did. Letting them fall to the floor, you step out of them and then pick them up and place them in his hand. He shoves them into his pocket, smug smirk on his face the whole time.

He then pulls you by your waist for one more kiss. “C’mon, we should go back now. Don’t want anybody thinking we ran off.”

You laugh a little and nod. “We should just run off though,” you say.

“Only a couple more hours and we can. My place or yours, we can go back and replay that all night long,” he says before giving you a smack on the ass and following you back to the hall to return to the party of unknowing guests.

[inkskinned]

you have to go to work so you can pay for your doctor, who is not taking your insurance right now, and if you say i can't afford the doctor's you are told - get a better job. it is very sad that you are unwell, yes, but maybe you should have thought about that before not having a better job.

(where is the better job? who is giving out these better jobs? you are sick, you are hurting - how the hell are you supposed to be well enough for this better job?)

but you go to the doctor because you had the nerve to be hurt or sick or whatever else. and they tell you that it is because you have anxiety. you try your best. you are a self-advocate. you've done the reading (which sometimes pisses them off worse, honestly). you say it is actually adding to my anxiety, it is effecting my quality of life. so they say that you are fat. they say that all young people have this happen to them, isn't it a medical marvel! they say that you should eat more vegetables. they say that you probably just need to lose a little more weight, and that you are faking it for attention.

(what attention could this doctor possibly give? what validation? that's their fucking job, isn't it?)

there is always a hypochondriac, right. someone always tells you about a hypochondriac. or someone who is unnecessarily aggressive during the worst days of their life. or someone looking "for a quick fix". or some idiot who wasn't educated about how to properly care for themselves who just abandons their treatment. and again, the hypochondriac, the overly-cautious hysteric. these people don't deserve to be treated like humans (right), and since you might be one of these people, you also don't get treated like a human. because those people can really fuck with the system, you now have to pay for it. and besides. you're actually probably faking it.

(more often than not, you find a 2:1 ratio of these stories. for every "hypochondriac", there are 2 people who knew something was wrong, and yet nobody could fucking find it. the story often ends with pointless suffering. the story often ends with and now it's too late, and it's going to kill me.)

you are actually just making excuses. someone else got that procedure or that diagnosis and he's fine, you should be fine too. someone else said they watched a documentary about other inspirational people with your exact same condition, maybe you should be inspirational, too. you're just too morbid. your pain and your experience is probably just not statistically concerning. it is all self-reported anyway, and you're just being a baby.

(once, while sitting down in the middle of making coffee, you had the sudden, horrible thought - i could kill myself to make the pain stop. you had to call your best friend after that. had to pet your dog. had to cry about it in the shower. you won't, but that moment - god, fuck. the pain just goes on and on.)

you know someone who went in for routine surgery and said i still feel everything. they told her to just relax. it took her kicking and screaming before they figured out she wasn't lying - the anesthetic drip hadn't been working. you know someone who went in for severe migraines who was told drink water and lose weight. you know someone who was actively bleeding out and throwing up in the ER and was told you're just having a bad period.

in the ER there are always these little posters saying things like "don't wait! get checked today!" and you think about how often you do wait. how often the days spool out. you once waited a full week before seeing the doctor for what you thought was a sprained wrist. it had actually been broken - they had to rebreak it to set it.

but you go into the doctor. the problem you're having is immediate. the person behind the counter frowns and says we're not taking your insurance. you will be paying for this out-of-pocket.

they send you home with tylenol and a little health packet about weight loss or anxiety or attention deficit. on the front it has your birthday and diagnosis. you think about crying, and the words swim. it might as well say go fuck yourself. it might as well say you're a fucking idiot. it might as well say light your money on fire and lie down in it. and the entire fucking time - the problem persists.

it's okay. it's okay, it's just another thing, you think. it's just another thing i have to learn to live with.

[hyomaslut]

──★ ˙🍓 ̟ !! what is this? boyfriend material.

☆⌒(ゝ。∂).ᐟ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ᴀʀᴇ ʙʟʟᴋ ʙᴏʏs ʟɪᴋᴇ ɪɴ ᴀ ʀᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ ᴘᴛ. 𝟷

✿ ─ characters: isagi yoichi, chigiri hyoma, reo mikage, nagi seishiro ✿ ─ cw: fluff, gn!reader, no pronouns but there are a few 'fem coded' things referenced like make up or skirts, aged-up!characters, established relationships, pet names, kissing, groping, pda, use of foul language, suggestive themes, proofread so many times so if there’s a typo ill cry ✿ ─ notes: this is my first post ♪(´▽｀) i haven't written stuff like this in a pretty long time so bear with me ‹𝟹 this is some hybrid of headcanon and drabble idk

ISAGI YOICHI is a full-fledged bonafide simp...

he suffers from tragic a condition. when he’s not trying? flirting supreme panty dropper. however, when he tries to flirt with someone he likes? bro is fumbling. at first he seems like such an instant charmer. hes a classic gentleman, great listener, and super attractive. but the second he gets an inkling of a crush, he ruins it for himself. stuttering and getting his words mixed up, saying the most embarrassing jumbled combination of what he actually meant to.

follows you around to all your tasks because how else would he spend his free time except hanging with his baby. to sephora, to the grocery store, to the salon, the the ends of the earth if that's where you're heading that day. more than happy to hold onto your hand as you go about your business, rambling about global soccer statistics and looking at you like you hold the world. yoichi is a prideful purse holder too, his arms and pockets and car being full of your belongings makes him insanely happy for some reason he can’t put his finger on. always ready to press the lip gloss you’re patting yourself down for into the palm your hand, taking a kiss as payment.

he’s bad at planning dates, so don’t put him in charge unless you want to be late to a reservation at a restaurant 2 hours away with mediocre food. he’s good at paying for them though!! the dates he does get to plan are usually to the mall. what can i say, man likes to spoil you.

at the mall isagi can kind of trick you. because typically if he were to offer to buy you a couple hundred dollars worth of things, you would absolutely refuse. buttt if its just one thing from this store and one thing from another, and maybe its the fact that you dont feel the weight of all the items as your boyfriend carries it all, but it flies under your radar. and at some point you look at yoichi… and he has a lot of shopping bags. surely some of those were his right? the little pleased love sick smile on his face says otherwise.

its so worth it to isagi tho. he gets to spend time with you, make you happy, be a doting bf. but it also means that he can pick out clothes for you. as generous as he was, he could be a bit of a greedy gifter - never leaving the mall without a new skirt of his choosing. will personally pick out a pile of things he wants you to try on just for him.

once youre with isagi for a few months, he reveals his true colors. man is a serial PDA offender. he just thinks you’re so pretty, and it gives him such an ego boost to be the guy by your side. better hold his hand or its going in your back pocket. leans in under the guise of giving you a quick, generally acceptable peck on the lips… but all of a sudden he wants another before you even fully pull away from the first and its all downhill from there. sits on your side of the table at restaurants instead of across from you so he can rest his hand on your thigh and sneak in small squeezes when he thinks youre not paying attention. and be careful about walking in front of him, he’s not strong enough to resist the urge to smack your ass.

if the PDA thing wasnt a dead give away, isagi is just very affectionate in general, honestly has a hard time leaving you alone when you’re in the same room as him. he just gravitates towards you no matter what he was previously doing. very easily distracted, very easy to bribe. he’s the type of guy where when he goes to get out of bed in the morning to go to practice, and you cling to him and ask him for just 5 more minutes, theres nothing that could stop him from sinking right back into your arms. his attendance record has definitely suffered because he is unable to deny you a single thing you ask for, especially if that thing is him.

CHIGIRI HYOMA is taken and makes sure everyone knows it…

hyoma’s partner very quickly becomes his best friend if they weren’t before they started dating. it’s not even intentional, but he gets very quickly attached to you. sure, he has a decent amount of friends, but none of them know him like you do. he loves to hear you talk about your life, invested in your daily drama and indulging you with all of his. he likes to hear your input and insights on situations. he takes notes in his phone when he sees things he thinks you would like, or conversations he had that he wants to tell you about. forever surprised by how much he misses you when you’re apart, chigiri is used to not needing anyone the way he needs you. is so much grumpier at matches that have him go abroad without you, texting you often throughout the day, whenever he can get his hands on his phone.

because you’re now his best friend and partner, chigiri’s a bit tied to you at the hip, but he would never admit to being clingy. not that you mind, hanging out with him is fun and surprisingly intimate. he never fails to hold your hand wherever you go or throw an arm around your shoulder. on dates he’ll lean in close to your ear to whisper little observations and jokes about the people around, the two of you sharing witty comments and secretive snickers behind your hands. when hanging out with mutual friends, the way yours eyes meet his wordlessly, both holding the same micro expression, indistinguishable to other people, that says “we are so talking about that later”.

speaking of clinging to your side, hyoma can have a bit of a possessive streak at times. i feel like it’s something you don’t really expect of him until there’s a guy flirting with you in a store. the way your boyfriend is at your side before you can even answer, standing at his full height, squaring his shoulders with a sour look on his face, not at all shy about the way his arm snakes around your waist. “they’re not interested.” he states plainly, as if it were obvious, but if you payed close attention to him (which you always did), you would notice the distasteful curl of his lip or the venom seeping into his tone or the way his usually gentle fingers hold onto your side with a firm grip.

he doesn’t meet your eyes after, already sensing the knowing smirk on your lips. his ears turn red when you break the silence to tell him that green was a good color on him. but, your ever clever boyfriend is quick to reply, “that’s cute baby, but i’m not jealous. you haven’t seen me when i’m jealous.” the mischievous glimmer in his eye and the smug smile he wears reminds you to not test him.

king of matching outfits with you. not in the novelty shirts cheesy way, but he always asks for a fit check before he picks you up on dates. chigiri is outside your apartment within the hour, wearing a jacket that matches the color of your shoes and a sly grin. generally starts to shift his style to be a bit more cohesive with yours, he loves going out and looking like you belong together.

not to mention, matching outfits give him more excuses to take pictures with you. photos of you and him are plastered all over his instagram, your handle in his bio and everything. he’s no amateur either, always able to catch your best side, in perfect lighting. really makes you feel as pretty as he seems to think you are. hyoma is a bit of a show off too, so he gets a bit of an ego boost getting to let everyone know how cute you are, and that you’re all his.

hyoma greatly values the alone time he gets to spend with you. the best part of his week is sitting on the couch as you help him with his hair care routine. you running a mix of the comb and your fingers through his hair as the two of you catch up on the k-drama you started together. your touch and your attention and your warm presence enough to make the stress of a pro soccer career melt off his shoulders. makes you teach him how to do your nails and learns your skin care routine so that he can return the favor, although he’s much better at the latter.

MIKAGE REO is ungodly whipped and more than a little dramatic…

if we’re talking about social media boyfriends, reo is near insufferable. let’s be real, reo was already flexing on the gram before you got with him. constantly posting pictures of his car and expensive watches and exclusive clubs. he just becomes worse when you agree to go out with him. his story is full of aesthetically blurry shots of you, sometimes featuring him, anywhere and everywhere. in his car, on dates, cooking in his kitchen. he even found the audacity to post a picture of you in his bed, your bare back in full frame, the sheets pooled around your waist. “i’m so lucky” was the caption and the only context provided. unsurprisingly the lifespan of that post was quite short once you caught wind of it, with the assurance that he wouldn’t be getting so lucky in the near future.

i totally think reo is the type of guy that tries to act like a fuckboy but is secretly a hopeless romantic. in other words, reo is a huge sap™. has a picture of you in his wallet. you’re his screen saver and all his passwords feature your name. nagi is the last person left that will still listen to reo ramble on about you, all of his other friends having gotten tired of it.

we already know that reo is taking you to fancy dinners on the regular, but more unexpectedly i think he is a big fan of outdoorsy dates. previously mentioned hopeless romantic tendencies means reo loves a picnic way more than he lets on. his favorite is when the summer comes around and he gets to take you to the beach. if reo dies and goes to heaven and it's not you rubbing sunscreen into his warm back in a skimpy swimsuit he picked out for you himself, he's not interested. a close second favorite of his is late night drives with you. all the windows of his luxury sports car down, blasting a playlist the two of you made together, singing loud and ugly down the empty freeway. in these moments you make him feel weightless and he swears it’s addicting.

king of clingy. every time that you feel your phone vibrate, there's a good chance that it's your boyfriend. never with anything important either, asking where you are, how was your day, sending you pics of whatever he is doing, even resorting to imessage games when he runs out of things to talk about. he just always finds himself itching to open your contact. if mikage reo could eat up all of your attention, he would not hesitate to do so.

reo is usually the caretaker. when he obtained status of boyfriend, you automatically went on his list of special people in his life, only really consisting of you and nagi, and this granted you the exclusive privilege of walking all over him if you so please. truly a pushover and weak to your pouts. while we’re on the subject of ways to get him to fold, reo is surprisingly easy to flatter. your compliments are honey to his ears, no matter how many people have said the same to him before. his heart thumps loud in his chest whenever you do any act of service or labor of love for him. just wait for the day you buy this man some flowers. got his hand splayed over his red face, his palm not wide enough to cover his infatuated grin. "they're really for me, babe? god i knew i picked you for a reason.”

reo's feelings for you run extremely deep. scary deep. you make him feel stupid and irrational. he can't think straight, he's impulsive. you have to keep a close eye on him because give reo enough time alone and he'll convince himself that getting your name tattooed across his chest is an amazing idea, a grandiose display of his affection and devotion to you - sick as hell too. god forbid you go on a trip by yourself, there's honestly a decent chance you'll come home to a marriage proposal and explanations on how "no no, don't worry babe, i know its sooner than you expected but i've got it all planned out.” just be glad that up until this point he has resisted the strong urge to drop a fourth of his trust fund on a ring, a price he's more than willing to pay to make you all his.

NAGI SEISHIRO is greedy and will readily take a mile if given an inch…

nagi is… new to the whole boyfriend thing to say the least. not to say he’s bad at it or anything, but i imagine that in the beginning of your relationship, things are a bit, for a lack of better words, lukewarm. he struggles a bit with recognizing that the switch from friends to more than friends is more than just the title, letting you completely take the wheel. but his passiveness doesn’t last long. not when he can’t escape the way you are constantly on his mind. he thought it was overwhelming enough having a crush on you, but now that he’s falling for you it’s on another level. he thinks of you when he first opens his eyes, facing the obnoxious blue light of his phone to send you your daily goodmorning :x . he thinks of you at night, when he’s restlessly fighting to fall asleep before he ultimately caves and facetimes you so that he can drift off to your tired mumbles and even breaths. he thinks of you when practice drags on, the anticipation of seeing you after the only thing keeping him from giving into his exhaustion.

nagi can’t get you out of his head for the life of him, but to be fair he doesn’t put up much of a fight. seishiro is used to getting what he wants, so what does he do when his desire for you becomes a hassle? he makes it your problem. constantly calling you and asking you to pick him up from social functions because he misses you. insisting that he stays the night at your place or that you come to his because he needs his daily dose of you. and he doesn’t have the shame to be shy of telling you everything on his mind either. he unintentionally says very flustering things, unabashedly demanding your touch and your company, no matter who is listening. it’s your fault he’s like this after all, you might as well take responsibility and give him what he wants.

and what he wants is affection from you, as much as he can get. serishiro is mesmerized by your reactions. being in love with you is uncharted territory that he maps out with piqued curiosity and newfound greed. especially kissing. once nagi gets his first taste of kissing you for real, messy and needy and drawn out, he never wants to go back. not after seeing your red face, eyes lidded and lips parted so cutely he just has to steal one more. now his day dreams revolve around you, what flavor of chapstick you’re wearing, what perfume do you have on, are you thinking of him as much as he does you? thats one thing he never really finds the courage to ask, but that he secretly hopes is true.

he loves to find things you can work on together, even if you always end up being the one putting in more effort. nagi will insist on cooking dinner together, and maybe you get his help for a good 10 minutes before he’s slumped in a seat at the counter eating the ingredients. buys tons of lego sets for the two of you to put together and while you’re following the instructions, he’s stealing pieces you need so he can build a little car to push around the table while he watches you figure it out. he’ll even settle for a puzzle and a movie, but your out of luck if you expect him to do anything but the edges.

the lazy genius only really has the time and energy to have a couple of important people in his life, but once you make it into that inner circle, that shit is permanent as far as he’s concerned. it begins with him telling you that it only makes sense to leave some clothes at his apartment, you’re at his place half the week anyway. and then its him smuggling over your favorite pillows and stuffed animals to his bed instead of yours. then he’s asking you to go grocery shopping with him every week. the jokes he makes about the fact that, “you keep all your stuff here anyway. just move in with me already,” are far too frequent to be subtle. but when he hits you with the puppy eyes, which are annoyingly effective, how could you say no?

you’ve put yourself in his orbit after all and now the solar system that is nagi seishiro will use his gravity to pull you inevitably closer. it’s doomed.

is my bias obvious?? cuz i feel like it might be… lmk which one was your favorite!!

© 2023 hyomaslut. please do not copy, translate, or repost any of my content onto any other sites.

[yellowjestertfs]

Spare Parts

Al untucked his shirt, then tucked it in again, then quickly untucked it before landing on a French tuck—a mix of both that suited him worse than either. He had never been so nervous about going out with his friends. In the past, he was the life of the party, staying out clubbing until the witching hours, getting drunk, and ending up in some stranger's bed the next morning. That was before he made the fatal mistake of jaywalking drunk and got hit by a bus, which flung him into the path of another bus, which sent him off a bridge and into the water, where he was run over by a boat. Honestly, it would have been a pretty comical way to die—only he didn’t die. He should have died; he broke every bone in his body and turned his organs into a smoothie. The wonders of modern medicine intervened. He still didn’t quite understand exactly how, but the doctors had used stem cells, like those regenerating cells babies have, to essentially bring him back from the dead. A miracle, yes, but even miracles had their limits. The recovery process was long and hard, and even now, recently released from medical custody, he was not the same man he’d been before the accident.

Getting hit by two buses and a boat does that to you. His face was mangled—not to the point of being monstrous, but not attractive either. His body had also suffered from the accident, practically wasting away as he recovered. While the old Al partied with abandon, this new Al was self-conscious of his appearance and absolutely terrified to cross the street. Now, he stood at the crosswalk, fidgeting with his short-sleeve button-down shirt, thinking about why he had asked an old lady to help him across. He clutched her tightly as they crossed, ready to throw her in the way if a bus came barreling toward them—luckily for both of them, none did. Despite her age and his current condition, the woman actually made a pass at him, calling him a “handsome lad” and asking if he wanted to go back to her place. It helped his confidence, if only a little, and gave him a strange tingling feeling.

Finally, after detaching himself from the woman, he reached the club. Despite the relatively early hour, the place was bumping; the bass-boosted electronic music and a flashing rainbow could be seen and heard from the outside. A quick check of his phone informed him that his friends were already inside, so he joined the short line and waited to be let in by the bouncer. As he neared the front, he realized he recognized the bouncer. Back when he frequented this place, he was friendly with the muscular man. Now, though, he doubted the man would recognize him, and he honestly hoped to keep it that way. Back then, he was sort of a legend, a position he doubted he could live up to now. As the bouncer—Rod, he thought—waved him forward, Al couldn’t help but admire the man's physique. It seemed that while Al recovered, Rod made some serious gains. His arms were particularly impressive; Al found himself feeling bad for the man’s sleeves as they tried and failed to contain his massive arms. Their sheer size was only enhanced by the web of veins that patterned the muscles. 

“ID, please,” Rod said, indeed not recognizing Al as he had predicted. Al handed over his card, suddenly realizing the picture on the ID was pre-accident.

“Had a bit of a glow-down,” Al said awkwardly, trying to flash a smile but only managing to lift one side of his mouth—the other’s nerve endings were damaged beyond repair. Rod grunted but returned Al’s ID; even despite the discrepancies in the photo, there was little doubt that Al was of age. As Rod handed back his ID, their hands touched just slightly, and for a second, Al felt a slight tingling in his upper arms. Then it was gone as quickly as it came. 

“Have fun, man,” Rod said, “and nice guns.” Al laughed at that, thinking the man was making fun of his twig arms.

He lifted his arm, expecting the usual sight of his scrawny limb. But when his gaze landed on it, his breath caught. His bicep had swollen under the skin, somehow in the span of a heartbeat his twig arms had become tree trunks. Al’s fingers traced the now firm, rounded muscle, a mix of fear and fascination flooding his mind. The sheer size and hardness of his new bicep felt both alien and irresistibly satisfying, a forbidden thrill coursing through his veins at his arms meaty massive things they now were. They looked like almost exact copies of Rod’s, only instead of the man's olive complexion, the biceps had the pale look of someone who had spent the last two years in a hospital bed.

Al felt light-headed. How was this possible? Was he having some sort of mental breakdown, a delusion? He needed to find his friends. No, he needed to find a drink. The bar was right where he remembered—just to the left of the entrance. Unlike Rod, the bouncer, he didn’t recognize the bartender—a short, slightly pudgy man who looked to be in his mid-40s, with a strong square cleft chin that didn’t particularly match the rest of his average features. Al walked up to him, trying to hide his now-massive arms to little avail. He found he couldn’t stop flexing and feeling them, equal parts concerned and turned on by the mysterious new muscles.

“I'll take a vodka soda,” Al tried to say casually, although the words came out more as a question than a request. Luckily, the night was still young enough that he managed to get the man's attention, although the fact that he wasn’t a pretty girl kept him from making small talk. As he worked, Al saw the bartender occasionally glance up at his biceps, which he had crossed in an attempt to hide them. They looked a little ridiculous with the rest of his scrawny body. Wordlessly, the bartender placed a garnish on the drink before handing it to Al. Just as with Rod, their hands innocently touched, and again Al felt a strange tingle, this time centering on his chin. Lifting the glass to his lips, Al quickly lowered it, uneasy at how strange the sensation felt. Years of drinking had made him familiar with the feel of a glass against his lips, but something felt off now. His bottom lip somehow felt more supported, stiffer. A quick exploration with his finger revealed that his chin was causing the offense. But that couldn’t be—his chin had been round and soft even before the accident. Whatever this new chin that had somehow attached itself to his face was, it felt like a block of stone, the bone protruding in a harsh, strong way completely foreign to his face. The deep cleft was also new, creating a valley in the mountain that was his chin. Pulling out his phone, he saw what his fingers had felt: his face now somehow sported a strong, masculine chin almost identical to that of the bartender.

Al wasn’t the brightest, but even he began to put the pieces together. Somehow, he was absorbing the best qualities of every person he touched. His mind raced, trying to figure out what could be causing this. The stem cells he received might be the explanation, but why now? Al needed to get out; he needed to see a doctor. Panicked, he looked for the exit only to find a crowd had congregated between the bar and the nearest door. There was no way he could make it to the other side without touching anyone. Could he risk it? 

His contemplation was cut short as a woman sauntered up to the bar, her stumbling gait indicating she was already a few drinks deep. That was hardly the most noticeable thing about her; put bluntly, she had massive boobs—the type that could never fit in a top without being the center of attention. As she stumbled her way toward the bar, she tripped on one of her own feet. Al’s eyes widened as he realized too late that her fall would take her directly toward him. He tried to move out of the way, but as she fell, her arms reached forward for support, landing on his own. For a brief second, he hoped he might absorb her winning smile, but judging by the tingling in his chest, he wasn’t so lucky. Horrified, he glanced down, expecting to see breasts pushing out of his shirt. Instead, he found different mounds there—equally large, yes, but the lumps on his chest weren’t boobs; they were too firm and square. No, instead Al had somehow gained massive pectoral muscles from his contact with the woman. Their growth had unceremoniously demolished the first three buttons of his shirt, which was having a bad day trying to contain his massive chest and arms. The muscles looked downright strange on his body, the rest of it still emaciated from the accident. In fact, Al struggled to support the weight of his new mass, his shrimpy legs and shoulders straining under the sudden load.

The woman pulled away from his arms, drunkenly apologizing before reaching out to grope one of his now-massive pecs. Luckily, no tingles followed, confirming Al’s suspicion that he could only absorb from a person once. Now, Al felt torn about what to do. On one hand, he still worried about the changes and their possible repercussions, but did he want them to stop? If he went to the doctor now and they fixed him, would he be stuck in his current disproportionate form forever? This could be a blessing—a way to heal from the damage caused by the accident, to become the ultimate version of himself—or rather, of the people around him. So far, none of the changes had been bad. Deciding not to look a gift horse in the mouth, Al scanned the room for someone with a feature he wanted to absorb. The choice became easier when a cute guy walked right past him, his clothing tight on his lean, muscular body, and he looked well-groomed. Before the accident—in fact, before tonight—Al had never paid much attention to the appearance of other men. Maybe it was the fact that he now saw their features as ones he could have, or perhaps it was something else, but for whatever reason, he found himself checking out the other men in the club, including the one walking by. On instinct, he stuck his foot out, tripping the man, their bare ankles making contact for a second in the process. The man stumbled and then turned to face Al, his face red with anger, which quickly cooled as he took in Al.

“Hey, I like your hair, dude,” he said. Al had hoped that he might absorb the guy's cute, tight ass or maybe his strong Roman nose, but his hair worked too. It was silky, thick, and coiffed attractively—definitely an improvement over his current thinning hair.

“Thanks, man,” Al said, reaching up to find that he indeed had hair identical to the man he had just tripped. 

“Do you go to Clarice?” the guy asked. The question sparked a brief conversation in which Al lied through his teeth, pretending they went to the same barber rather than admitting that he thought his stem cells had magically copied the guy's hairstyle to a tee. Eventually, Al excused himself, claiming he had seen his friends. This was true; as they chatted, Al had located his friends huddled close to the DJ booth on the dance floor. Steeling himself, he made his way over to them, trying to avoid physical contact. His efforts were only somewhat successful. An accidental brush of a college-age girl’s hand lengthened his eyelashes, while a hip bump into a man with rolled-up sleeves thickened his forearms, so his arms were now somewhat proportional. Once he reached the dance floor, however, he lost total control. Falling arms and thrusting hips assaulted him from all sides. An accidental step on a foot caused his lips to buzz as if they had momentarily fallen asleep, puffing up to appear pillowy and soft. A hand brushed across his back, causing a tingle in his shoulders, widening them and only making his progress more difficult. The elbow wedged awkwardly into the crevice of his pecs by a sheepish-looking man earned him a short, coarse beard across his jaw—a jaw that had become wider and sharper thanks to the impatient shoving of a male model behind him. Al quickly lost track of exactly what features he had gained from whom. A sudden numbness in different parts of his body was the only indication that he continued to change. At one point, a gigantic man who had to be some sort of pro basketball player moved next to Al. Al indulged himself, letting his hand “accidentally” rub against the tall man's leg and feeling his whole body lengthen. The constant shifting of the dance floor meant no one noticed Al or the way his features shifted. As he neared his friends, a twink dressed only in a leather harness and thong approached him and started to grind up against him. Even more shocking was the rock-hard abs that formed from their contact and the boner that Al inexplicably developed from the experience. The twink started to unbutton the last few remaining buttons on his shirt, and he let him, not wanting to deprive the world of his body.

At last, Al reached his friends, finally finding a pocket of relative emptiness near the loudspeakers. 

Al reached out to tap one of his friends on the arm before thinking better of it and just stood there awkwardly, waiting for them to notice him. Eventually, the song ended, and his three friends turned to face him. Only with a pang of shock did Al realize they didn’t recognize him. How could they? He had become a sort of Frankenstein’s monster of different features from the various patrons of the club. Where they expected their scrawny, balding friend fresh out of an extensive hospital stay, instead before them stood a 6’5” bodybuilder with a face, a hodgepodge of features from various people, somehow working together to give him a handsome and exotic look.

“Hey, have you seen our friend? Short, skinny, looks like he might have been hit by a bus or two,” his friend Jordan asked. It was a simple question, but for maybe the first time in two years, Al noticed not a trace of pity in his friend's voice. No, rather it was admiration. Al’s previous intentions of coming clean to his friends and seeking help melted away as he realized the opportunity he had. He could finally escape the shadow of those busses; he could have a new start.

“Nope, haven’t seen anyone like that,” he said in a voice much richer and deeper thanks to the vocal cords of some unknown stranger. 

“I’m Jordan, by the way,” his friend said, raising his voice to be heard over the music. 

“Al.” Shit. So much for a fresh start. Jordan glanced at his other two friends but didn’t say anything. Instead, one of his other friends, Sergio, grabbed Al’s hand and pulled him into their dance circle. The contact made his whole body tingle and, glancing down, he saw that his skin had darkened to the same ruddy tan as his friend's. Luckily, the flashing lights and the general darkness of the club made Al fairly sure no one noticed the transformation.

Throughout the night, he became reacquainted with his own friends and found innocent ways of making contact with each of them. From his friend Marge, he gained her show-stopping ass, the muscular butt complementing the thick thighs he had gained sometime during his mad rush. Contact with Linsey copied her perfect Barbie blonde hair. The stylish haircut and scruff he had grown sometime during the night bleached itself instantly while all his body hair, limited as it was by various tingles, turned the same gold color. His friend Jordan took a special interest in the new Al, and Al found himself reciprocating the attention, for the first time noticing just how hot his friend was. When at long last they touched, Al grabbed the man and brought him into a passionate kiss. He swore he felt tingles but couldn’t notice any change on his body. After long hours of sweaty dancing, a round of shots, and many more kisses between the two former friends, the group headed over to Jordan's apartment. Al nearly blew his cover by heading straight to his friend's door, but the excuse of “lucky guess” seemed to satisfy his non-sober companions. After a few more hours of chatting and more alcohol, everyone left but Al and Jordan.

Jordan used the classic “let me show you something in the bedroom” line, which led to more kissing and Jordan feeling up Al’s new muscular body. Eventually, as both men removed their pants, Al discovered what he had picked up from his friend. Long and thick, Al’s penis was identical to that of his lover, which Jordan seemed delighted by, claiming he had never been with someone with a tool as big as his. It took a moment for Al to get over the surprise of his friend packing so much meat and the fact that he now did as well, but once he accepted it, he used his new member to the fullest. After hours of fucking, the two fell asleep, not waking up until the afternoon the next day. Al politely said his goodbyes and awkwardly avoided giving Jordan his number, not wanting to explain why it was the same number as Jordan's sickly friend. 

Exiting the apartment, he noticed the same elderly woman from last night and to his chagrin, she once again hit on him, asking to hold his bicep while they crossed the street. When he touched her, he felt no tingles, which he thought strange until he remembered she was the first person to induce that sensation upon him last night. Could it be that he had somehow absorbed her sex drive or sexuality? Was that why he had a sudden appreciation for men? The thought amused him as he made his way to his car. But before he could dwell on it too much, his attention was abruptly pulled back to the present.

Lost in thought, he didn’t see the bus careening down the street, heading right for him. The blare of the horn hit him a second too late, and everything went black.

The next thing Al knew, he was waking up in a hospital—a horrifying déjà vu of two years ago. A young doctor stood over him, clipboard clutched in two massive, masculine hands. His eyes fluttered as he tried to make sense of his surroundings, the cold sterility of the hospital room bringing back memories of his long, painful recovery. Blearily, Al glanced down at himself. His perfect, hunky form was now a mess—bones broken, muscles flattened. All except his hands, which looked larger and callused, suspiciously identical to the doctor standing above him. It seemed that Al’s luck with public transportation hadn’t changed, but now he knew how to build himself back up. A minor setback, sure, but nothing a few spare parts wouldn’t fix.

Wrote this a while ago but thought i would post it here with images and some small edits. Not my best but think its still a fun story.

[lurochar]

The Domino Effect (Pt. 1)

Alastor's shadow has been banned from seeing you for a week. The fallout thus begins.

This was getting long, so it's going to be split into 2 parts. I'm not sure when the second part will be posted, hopefully next week.

Warnings: Alastor's shadow is a massive simp for Reader. There are a few cringey deer puns to get through

18+ MDNI

The Shadow will Play and The Buck Stops Here

^^

Please read those two first

--------------------------------------------

One week.

An entire week – 7 whole days (his Master was so, so cruel), 168 hours (time wasn’t the same for a being like him), 10, 080 minutes (so why was it taking so long to pass?), 604, 800 seconds (would have to go by before he could smell, touch, taste you again).

He was getting restless, antsy in the meantime.

His Master was allowing him to roam around freely if he didn’t need him for anything, so perhaps his Master did understand that being separated from you was one of the worst things he (they) could endure.

Not that Alastor would ever admit that out loud of course.

But misbehaviour was misbevaviour – Alastor couldn’t let his own shadow think it could do whatever it wanted without his explicit permission, especially when it concerned you.

Everything about you belonged to him. Your pleasure was his, your pretty sounds were his. All of your blood, sweat, and tears were his. 

His shadow may be a literal part of him, but he was a selfish, selfish man. Wasn’t he already being kind enough to allow his shadow to watch and observe? 

Yes, you were his in every way but one – your soul. 

It was an utterly frustrating aspect about you and Alastor wasn’t completely sure why you would not give your soul to him. Surely by now you know he would do everything in his power to protect it, treasure it, and he would never dream of mistreating you in any way.

You saw how he treated other souls under his thumb, how he treated Husker and Niffty. He was most certainly charitable to them, wasn’t he? Sure, he may be a little rougher on Husk, but it wasn’t his fault the former Overlord didn’t seem to know his place at times and he couldn’t have the souls he owned out of line and misbehaving, could he?

You, of course, were different from them, they were toys, his pawns. You were his lover, his mate. 

He was selfish, but he was also patient. He could wait, he would wait until he could find a loophole and break out of his own contract – you didn’t find out about that, did you? It’s not as if he told you about it. He wasn’t even sure how Husk found out about it, it wasn’t something he spoke about to anyone.

(Was that why you refused to give him your soul?)

It must be difficult, he was sure, so he gave his shadow a little bit more leeway than usual and it certainly was using it.

His shadow was clearly irritated, engaging in activities that it was familiar with, but ramped up in intensity.

Pranks against the hotel’s residents were now borderline assaults and Alastor simply allowed it to happen, despite the annoyed complaints he was receiving and concerned looks he was getting from you.

He didn’t answer when you asked about ‘Shadowy’.

“Fuck you.” Husk grumbled, not bothering to get up from his slumped position at the bar as the damn shadow just seemed to pop up from nowhere. He was already starting to deal with the shakes, suffering from the backlash of not having any alcohol when the shadow switched out all of his alcohol with other liquids during the night.

You had kindly volunteered to go and fetch him some booze, but Alastor had simply sneered at him and reminded you that you two had a lunch date with Rosie and thus, wouldn’t be back at the hotel until quite late. 

You had thrown him an apologetic look and Husk just shook his head, not wanting to piss Alastor off. At least you tried, the only one who bothered to do so other than Charlie, who quickly ran off to town as soon as she saw his condition to buy him a six-pack to get him through the night. He could order more once the withdrawals wore off.

That fucking shadow popped up just as he finished his first bottle.

Other than cursing at it, Husk didn’t have the energy to do much else other than growl at it. It just snickered at him and before Husk could even react, its arm swiped across the counter and knocked the five remaining bottles off the bar and watched with a menacing glee as they shattered across the floor.

Husk stared in disbelief as his remaining booze leaked on the ground and the shadow cooed at him in an extremely condescending manner, stroking the back of its hand with its tongue and giving him a look with its hollow eyes as if to say, ‘lick it up.’ 

The shadow vanished as swiftly as it came.

That one bottle wasn’t enough and Husk vaguely wondered if he had done anything to anger Alastor recently and if Charlie was willing to go back into town again to pick him up any more booze.

Hell, he’d even ask Niffty at this point. He didn’t care who got him what he needed, as long as he got it in the end. 

He almost felt desperate enough to lick it right off the floor.

That damn shadow was probably watching him and waiting for him to do it.

Fuck him.

~00~

The shadow dealt with his frustrations the next day by leaving the hotel and slaughtering a few Sinners, specifically targeting ones that had any VoxTek on their person. 

He licked the blood off his claws, but grimaced at the flavour. Nothing had an appeal for him since he had a taste of you, but then had immediately been deprived right after. 

Why was his Master so harsh?

Why couldn’t he touch you too?

But orders were orders and he had no choice but to listen. He just didn’t understand, you had thought the bleats were cute and he knew you would not go around telling everyone that his Master bleated during sex, so why was his Master annoyed with him?

Would his Master react in the same way if he told you about their tail? Well, it was more specifically his Master’s secret than his own since pulling his own tail just wouldn’t have the same effect.

He may be punished again, but he also felt the contentment from his Master, especially that night where he felt the tinges of euphoria and a ghost-like touch upon his ears. He hadn’t been completely connected to his Master that night, so he only felt the barest of touches, but he knew you must have gotten Alastor to bleat.

What was one more thing?

Another punishment would be unpleasant, but ultimately if his Master (and him too) got the utmost pleasure out of revealing ‘humiliating’ secrets to their lover, who would never laugh at them no matter what, another punishment would be worth it.

Besides, if these thoughts were running in the front of his mind, then they must be running in the back of his Master’s – probably pushed down and away because his Master thought they were weaknesses.

His Master had even once thought that about you in the very beginning, as ridiculous as it seemed now, considering his Master (and him) would rip Hell apart and make it rain with guts and gore should anything happen to you.

His Master was just bad at feelings, that's all.

~00~

The shadow was back at the hotel.

His ears twitched as he sat on the top of the stairs. He caught the sound of Charlie’s voice somewhere nearby. Ah, she was a lucky one, his Master had told him to leave Charlie out of any pranks as he needed to stay on her good side. 

Everyone else was free game.

He had gotten Husk.

Charlie was a no-go.

Angel Dust was… honestly, he wanted to avoid being near him. The constant sex jokes made even his Master uncomfortable and irked. He only understood what his Master understood and before you, Alastor had almost zero interest in sex. Most of the time, his Master (and thus, him) had no idea what Angel Dust was even talking about and did not want to know.

So, Angel Dust only if he were desperately frustrated to the point of breaking his punishment.

Vaggie, how could he get her? Hide that precious spear of hers in a place she could never reach, stash it away in the shadows? Maybe shear off a good chunk of that long hair of hers with his claws?

Hmm, decisions, decisions…

His ears twitched again and the shadow glanced down, eyes glowing brighter when he noticed the little creatures cheerfully moving past him and towards the first stair.

Right, these are the pets(?) of the second resident of the hotel – the snake man, the shadow did not know his name because it seemed his Master did not bother to remember it, even after the snake managed to rip a piece of his Master’s coat off.

Well, they were the pets of that snake.

The shadow nonchalantly kicked the first Egg Boi, watching with sadistic pleasure as its fellow Egg Boiz panicked when their companion cracked wide open in the middle of the staircase. 

“Where have you gone off to, my little sssssweetssss?” 

The shadow stood, grinning at the scene before disappearing into the darkness just as Sir Pentious slithered towards the staircase. 

He heard the snake screech in horror before vanishing completely.

~00~

“In and out.”

His shadow whined, using all its willpower to not look in the direction of the bed where it knows you are sleeping. This is the closest it has been to you in a few days and it took almost everything out of it to not just jump into that bed and cuddle up into your side and curl around you.

“I’ve been getting complaints about you.” Alastor eyed his shadow before turning his attention to the pile of corpses gathered at his door. “Husk told me you sabotaged all of his alcohol and that snake fellow said you killed one of those egg creatures.”

The shadow chittered.

“Oh, don’t get me wrong. I don’t care. As long as you avoid Charlie, do as you please. If you do target Vaggie at some point, do go a bit lighter on her. Charlie may get angry at me on Vaggie’s behalf and I can’t have that.” He paused for a moment to listen to his shadow chirp and titter. “I don’t know, this is your project.” Alastor shrugged, ignoring the glare his shadow was giving him. “Steal her hair ribbon or such.”

His shadow’s chitters stopped and Alastor assumed that was exactly what it was going to do the next day.

“You have been quite active today, I see.” Alastor turned back to the corpses. “Much more than we need, but I suppose it's fine. Rosie is always in need of more meat.” His smile darkened and he turned to your sleeping form in the bed, casting a spell to make sure you stay asleep. He didn't want you waking up to the unpleasant sight of mangled corpses. “It's a good way to let off steam.”

His shadow let out a noise of agreement.

“Now then, let's get this meat into the bayou dimension. Hmm, it seems you even snagged a worker of that insufferable Vox. I do wonder how they will taste?”

You stayed sound asleep.

~00~

“Have you seen it?”

You feel Vaggie's grip around your arms tighten and you sigh. “No, I'm sorry, I haven't.” You answer. “But I can help you look.” You offer.

“Are you sure?” Vaggie's expression is a mixture of panic, suspicion, and anger. “I know Alastor has been playing his weird sadistic little games with us lately and I really don't think you're doing anything yourself, but I know you would choose him in a heartbeat over us.”

“I…” You are taken back by the amount of vitriol in Vaggie's voice. “I really had nothing to do with this.” You said firmly, causing Vaggie to rub at her hair in exasperation – something she's clearly been doing all day judging by how unruly it is.

“Are you two fighting?” Vaggie asked after clearing her throat and the panic disappeared from her face and voice. 

That ribbon must be very important to her if she's acting like this.

“No.” You murmured, having a feeling of where Vaggie’s ribbon might have vanished to. “But I think I am a part of the problem here.” Your proceeding smile is shaky. “I'll help you find your ribbon.”

“I-it was Charlie's first gift to me.” Vaggie looked forlorn for a second. “I know it sounds stupid to be attached to something that can be so easily replaced, but–”

“It's not stupid.” You cut Vaggie off. “It's not stupid at all. You love Charlie, you love every and any little thing she does for you, gets for you. I understand that.”

Vaggie smiled softly, nodding before her eye widened and she looked at you closely. “Y/N, Alastor, he… he isn't like Charlie–”

“Love is irrational sometimes.” You've heard this speech enough times already. “I know what Alastor is, what he's done. But he's never done anything to hurt me and he protected me even before our relationship began, all without asking for a single thing in return. I give what I can willingly and happily.”

Yeah, Alastor may have asked for your soul a few times, but he never seemed angered or upset that you turned him down nor did he incessantly pester you about it.

It's just how Overlords worked, you figured.

Vaggie stared in disbelief, not sure if you were even speaking about the Radio Demon anymore.

“Let's split up to look for your ribbon.” If your guess was right, you really did not want Vaggie there to see. “Is that okay?”

“Oh, yeah, that's fine.” Vaggie snapped out of her stupor. “I've already searched my and Charlie's room. And Charlie is looking in the main room. Maybe I left it in with my dirty clothes?” Vaggie muttered to herself. “I think I'll go check the laundry room. You can look anywhere you like.” She began towards the laundry room, but stopped a moment later. “Hey, Y/N. Thanks.” 

You watched as Vaggie practically sprinted off in her chosen direction and smiled. “Of course.”

You had a buck and his shadow to find.

~00~

“Quite the accusation, Darling.”

Your fingers scratched your cheek and you looked away. “I know you didn't steal Vaggie's ribbon.” You said. “But I know Shadowy has been causing problems for the past couple of days. Shadowy has Vaggie's ribbon, right?” It takes only one look at Alastor's tight grin to know you are correct. “Just let me see Shadowy if he's causing all these problems!”

“I will not tolerate disobedience.” Alastor retorted. “My shadow had one simple order and it did not follow it. There are consequences for that. And it seems there are side effects to the consequence I have put in place. It may not be ‘fun’ for the others to deal with, but they are harmless in the long run.”

“Husk was going through withdrawals.” You frown. “And one of Sir Pentious’ Egg Boiz, you know, cracked open, so I assume that must mean it's dead.”

“We are in Hell, my dearest Doe. While I'm sure withdrawals are quite unpleasant to experience, Husk won't die from them.” Alastor moved closer to you. “As for the egg creature, many have already ‘died’ in my previous… ‘engagements’ with that snake fellow, yet he is never without them. I'm sure he has a source of some sort for those egg creatures.”

“Okay, I get that Shadowy is frustrated? Angry? But why are you letting him do it all here?” You ask with a sigh.

“Of course I allow my shadow to go out and about, but I still do need it close by, so it may only go into the city for a few hours at a time in a limited range. If I need to, I can call it back quickly should something unlikely occur, such as the hotel coming under attack.”

Sometimes, Alastor’s thoughts were beyond you and this punishment for his own shadow seemed a bit excessive.

“Just… just tell Shadowy to give Vaggie back her ribbon in the same shape it was in. It's very important to her, all right? Please, please don't let him rip it!” You plead.

Alastor's ears twitch at your tone and his tense smile turns into something wicked. “And what would you do to ensure that would happen, dearest?”

You blink and then gape at him for a second. “I–” This situation was odd, but ultimately, you are at the centre of it and if all you needed to do was have sex with your lover to get Vaggie's ribbon back, then of course you would do it.

(Maybe you could squeeze out a few bleats too~)

~00~

He stared at the mirror, tying the ribbon on various parts of his body, wondering if you would like it.

First, around his neck. His Master wore something like this everyday, so he was sure you would like this too.

Second, around his ear. It was cute, right? You liked cute things. You had called him ‘cute’ many times before. 

‘Do not damage that ribbon in any way. If you do, I will extend your punishment. Bring that ribbon back to me.’

His Master's voice sounded in his head and the shadow whined at the thought of not seeing you beyond the allotted time.

He carefully untied the ribbon from his ear, making sure not to rip it with his claws. He let out a huff, dissatisfied that his ‘prank’ was already over and that he would have to move on to something else.

Should he slaughter more Sinners – go out and find more of Vox's employees and risk getting caught doing so? What would Vox even do in retaliation? Sing his pissy little song about his Master again on that awful picture box?

It sounded much more fun than pranking Niffty, who didn't seem like he would get an entertaining reaction from.

He could switch her bleach with water – but that was boring, he already did something similar with Husk and it's not like he could watch and snicker cruelly at Niffty afterwards since she wouldn't suffer from withdrawals. She might briefly huff and pout, but that would probably be the extent of it.

She was already quite deranged, she would more than likely enjoy anything he could think of and he didn't want anyone to enjoy anything until he could see and cuddle up to you again.

He still wanted to avoid Angel Dust and besides, the adult picture show actor wasn't even at the hotel to begin with. He didn't care where the spider was, but he was probably at work with that other Vee.

He could always mess with Angel Dust's room, tear it to shreds before the spider arrived back, but that meant stepping into it and the thought of all those disgusting sex fluids that still covered the surfaces of that room, just unseen to the naked eye, was enough to put a halt on that idea.

No, the only sex fluid he (and his Master) would ever partake in is your slick and the very thought had him salivating and his tail wagging.

But before he could get lost in his arousing thoughts, he had to get this ribbon back to his Master before he accidentally ruined it.

~00~

You have to wonder.

Did Alastor go out of his way to drive you out of your coherent fucking mind or was he just malevolent enough to come up with these nasty ideas right on the spot?

Probably a little bit of both.

“NO!” You sob, arms struggling against their restraints and legs kicking out uselessly as you were denied your orgasm yet again - what was that, the third time now? “No, hah! Please, Alastor!” You were literally dripping now, slick oozing down your thighs to stain the sheets below.

You could be embarrassed about it later.

“Hmm, I must say, I do enjoy the sound of your begging, it’s always pleasing to my ears.” Alastor pulled his staff back, hovering the microphone just over your quivering folds, but not quite touching. “It’s lovely. Won’t you keep it up, Darling?”

Oh fuck, keep it up? How many more orgasms was he going to ruin?

“H-how else…?” You slurred, feeling your head snap back when the microphone starts vibrating once again against your sensitized clit. You barely feel the pain when the back of your head bangs against the headboard of the bed since it only adds to the light-headed feeling swirling around your mushy brain. “–should I b-be begging?”

You can only say please so many times, doesn’t Alastor get tired of it?

Alastor tapped his fingers against the shaft of his microphone staff, eyeing you for a moment to make sure you didn’t accidentally concuss yourself. He may be a bit of a sadist, but not so much as to cause permanent damage to his precious doe. “Oh dear, have you lost the ability to speak? Surely you can do better than that?”

“Nngh!” A strange sound erupted from your mouth and your vision was swimming. “C-can I cum?” Finally, words are forming and you gasp when the vibrations against your cunt seem to intensify. “Please, let me cum, Alastor!”

“I suppose you can. You’ve been a good girl tonight.” Alastor cooed, knowing he had to wrap things up a little quicker than he would like because he could sense his shadow was close and honestly, it just might out right disobey him again if it sees you like this. “Go on then. Cum.” He reached over, tracing over your slick folds before sliding two fingers into you smoothly because of how wet you are.

You tremble, feeling Alastor’s fingers press against that sensitive spot inside you, hitting it again and again with precision while holding his microphone on your small bundle of nerves. “A-ah!” Your eyes rolled back and your slippery walls clamp down around Alastor’s fingers, but he doesn’t stop, working you through your orgasm until it starts to become painful, “Oh… no, no more…”

The vibrations of his microphone slow down gradually when your hips try to shift away and Alastor is still casually bumping his fingers against that responsive little spot, allowing the tentacles restraining your arms to retract from the headboard. He finally pulls away from you and you let out a little breath. “Do you need anything, dearest?”

You collapse against the bed, grimacing at the sticky feeling between your legs, but you’re not in the mood for a bath. Your body and mind were buzzing pleasantly with endorphins and your eyes looked up to Alastor and your mouth opened before your brain could really think of what you were actually saying.

Honestly, he should like it, he really should! He loved those cringey puns and dad jokes and other than his mug and referring to you as a doe (which wasn’t a joke to him), Alastor really seemed to stay clear from any deer puns.

“Nope, I feel like a million ‘bucks’!”

It seemed to take a moment for him and his grin twitched on one side, static dying down for a second and he seemed to let out a sigh.

“Quite…amusing, Darling.”

~00~

He was bitter, furious.

Was his Master torturing him? Trying to get him to deliberately disobey him? Why would his Master call him back, end his prank – his current amusement – only to be wrapped up in you, when he wasn’t allowed to be? His Master’s emotions were his as well and stronger ones like desire wreaked havoc on a being like him.

He growled, stalking towards the exit of the hotel, ears flat against his head when he spotted Charlie. He made a beeline for her, causing her to gasp in surprise at the sight of him and take a step back.

He let out a huff, not even allowing her to say anything as he threw the ribbon at her feet before he disappeared into the floor, speeding out of sight before anger could take hold of him and he did something he couldn’t take back.

“T-thank you?” Charlie was confused by the strange occurrence, but grateful all the same. She picked up the ribbon and smiled widely, hugging it against her chest. 

She knew that Vaggie had told you about the lost ribbon, so maybe you had told Alastor and he actually decided to help for once? And for something that he would deem so unimportant and beneath him? Even if he only used his shadow to help, it was a big step forward.

Maybe there was hope for him? 

Probably not, but you really did bring a softer side out of him and it always brightened her day seeing you and Alastor together.

Who would have thought the Radio Demon would ever find love?

~00~

There was a commotion outside.

“What now?” Angel Dust groaned from the bar, slamming back his drink and he winced when he moved in the wrong way. Val had really been doing a number on him lately and he wasn’t in the mood for any weird shit.

He was already on guard for that creepy shadow since Husk and Vaggie already warned him and he had told Cherri Bomb to stay away for a few days since he just needed some nice R&R, so who the hell was it now?

“I know that fucking voice.” Husk scowled. “What the fuck is she doing here? She knows she’s not welcome here.” Well, it would be only a matter of a few minutes before Alastor noticed, if he hadn’t already, and she would be sent on her way – or better yet, shut up permanently for coming back to the hotel.

“Ya can’t mean…?” Angel lifted his head as Husk rolled his eyes before shrugging. “She’s not that stupid, right? Smiles told her right to her face not to come back.”

“She was involved in the Boss’ life when they were alive, how smart could she possibly be?” Husk grunted and Angel’s brow rose at the unintentional insult to you. “Well, no offense to Y/N. Boss actually seems to care about her, as unlikely as it is.”

“You serious? Smiles is head over heels for Y/N! But I get it, you got a bias against the guy, for a good reason. I don’t blame ya if you can’t see it.” Angel let out a laugh at Husk’s glare. “Hey, it just means we don’t have to worry about Smiles paying attention to us as much when it's all directed to Dollface.”

“Is that so, my effeminate fellow?”

Angel jumped in surprise, nearly falling off the bar stool as Alastor and you rose up from a void of black through the floor right behind him. “You’re gonna give someone a heart attack doing that!” 

“Interesting method, but not efficient or quick enough. I think I’d rather just rip the heart straight from the che–” Alastor glanced down when you put your hand on his shoulder.

“I think what Angel means is that you scared him by appearing behind him so suddenly.” You explain with an affectionate grin, seeing the relieved look Angel is sending you. “Anyway, is she really…?”

“She always was a bullheaded woman.” Alastor’s smile is tight and his fangs are gritting. “But the absolute audacity to show up here after I explicitly told her she’s not welcome.” He closed his eyes and let out a calming breath before opening them again. “Well, I suppose I should see what she wants. Darling, stay close to me.”

Alastor gestured you to follow him and you did so, stepping past the front doors of the hotel to see why the commotion was even happening to begin with.

Why was Mimzy, of all Sinners, here?

“I ain't leaving until Alastor shows his face!” Mimzy snarled impressively, flanked by two bulky shark demons on each of her side. “I know he's here!”

 It seemed she hadn't learned her lesson yet about getting tangled in the world of loan sharks, which was that much more dangerous in Hell.

“He told you to stay away!” Vaggie had her weapon at the ready, prepared to strike at any sudden movements. “You almost destroyed the hotel last time you showed up. I'm not going to let you do it again.”

Charlie flailed a bit, glancing between Vaggie and Mimzy while wringing her hands. She wasn't particularly happy to see Mimzy again, but if Mimzy wanted her shot at redemption, Charlie certainly couldn't deny her that.

“Mimzy! What a pleasure to see you again!” Alastor’s cheerful voice cut in, but his expression told a completely different story as his pupils slowly began to shift into radio dials. “I believe I told you t͓̰̹̣ͨ̈́̿o̭̞̗͍ͦ̾ n̷͇͈̎̉̌͘ê̢̼̱̝v̻͔̆ẻ͇̊ṟ͆ͪͧ s͑͗h̸̪̋ͯ́o̥̘w͒̆̕ y̢͚o̘͎͔̪̒ͦ̿u̖ṟ̥̤̆ͭ͜͠ f̘á̯ͪ̔͋c̻̽̂ͬ͒͜e̶̳͑ͤͦ́ͅ ĥ͟e̋r̰̬̹̀̾͞e ǎ̞g̏ͭa͂ǐn̰̱̓ͩ͡.”

“Heh, believe me, I don't wanna be here either.” Mimzy huffed, crossing her arms under her ample bosom. Her eyes drifted to you and her brow rose in surprise. “You're still around? Huh, thought Alastor would've dropped you like a hot potato by now.”

Charlie immediately recoiled back and Vaggie almost slapped her own face at the utterly stupid and probable life-ending words coming from Mimzy's big mouth.

You really didn't have much of a reaction, you didn't need to.

Alastor’s head tilted at an unnatural angle, accompanied with a loud disturbing snapping noise. “You come here, to the hotel under my protection, as an unwelcome guest, and then proceed to insult my mate not only in front of me, but to her as well?” His eyes were beginning to black out and his antlers were growing rapidly.

Mimzy now seemed to realize her mistake and took a step back, trying to look smaller and hide behind her two lackeys, who were also visibly panicking, “I didn't mean anything by it, I swear! C'mon, Al, I'm just going by what I know! When we were livin’, you never had a woman on your arm for more than a single night! A-and even then, you never took them to your home!”

Alastor barely registered Mimzy's words, but his rage became manageable when you placed a comforting hand on his arm. “Just hear her out?” You asked. “If you kill her, you might regret it later. You were friends in life, right?”

“More so business partners than anything else.” Alastor answered under his breath. “We exchanged favours. We benefited from each other. I can't say it was anything more than that.”

“I’m…I’m sure she has some good reason for showing up here.” You sigh, though you were not very convinced of your own words. You had no real idea what to think of Mimzy and her last appearance at the hotel hadn’t exactly raised your opinion of her.

That, and she had subtly insulted you by calling you ‘Plain Jane Doe’ and that you were not even near the league of beauties that Alastor associated with, drank and danced the night away with at the speakeasy Mimzy ran back when they were alive. Of course she had done so while Alastor was out of earshot.

But still, on one hand, she was an acquaintance of Alastor’s, one he seemed a little more friendly with than most. On the other hand, Husk had outright warned you Mimzy only showed up when she needed Alastor to help her out of whatever hole she had dug herself into and it seemed she had done so often enough in the past that she simply expected it, that Alastor would ‘take care of her’.

“Oh, it’s a pretty damn good reason, sugar.” Mimzy’s panic quickly turned to annoyance once she remembered the reason she had bothered to come to the hotel. “Alastor, I know you can be petty, but I didn’t think you’d sink this low!” Her expression turned ugly. “Is it payback for the one time I came here?! Did it really bother you that much?! You can just use your hoodoo voodoo crap to magic it all back, can’t you!? Well, I can’t!”

“Err, what are you talking about?” Charlie asked reluctantly, seeing how upset Mimzy was, but none of them had a clue what she was referring to.

“My club!” Mimzy screeched. “Alastor sent his shadow to my club! And that thing destroyed it! Completely ruined it! Do you know how long it’ll take me to fix it back the way it was?!” Her hands curled into claws as she glared viciously at Alastor. “And that’s not the only thing it did!”

You stared wide-eyed at the blonde woman in disbelief.

“It ate ten of my contractees! Ten souls may be chump change for you, Alastor, but that’s a serious blow to me! I can’t believe you! I never thought you would turn on me like this!” Mimzy spat. 

Alastor returned to his regular form, his anger turning something more contemplative. If he were completely honest, he didn’t care how this affected Mimzy because, well, he had nothing to gain or lose in her situation. 

But this was also curious and vexing at the same time since he did not tell his shadow to do such a thing and an action like this was far beyond its familiar activities.

If he left his shadow to its own devices for longer than he intended, what else would it do? Was it that outraged it couldn’t see you it needed to scatter destruction wherever it went?

Well, he couldn’t blame his shadow, he couldn’t exactly say what his actions would be if he were to be suddenly separated from you, but he knew they wouldn’t be pretty.

“I believe you’re well aware of the type of relationship we truly have, Mimzy.” Alastor didn’t exactly want to admit in front of others that his shadow was briefly out of his control for a time. “Give and take. Tit for tat. However you wish to word it. Here in Hell, I have given you much, much more than I have taken. How many times have I saved you from your own foolishness?” Alastor gave an obvious look to the loan sharks still by Mimzy’s side. “And you refuse to learn from it. You can think of this as retribution if you want. Tell me, what would I gain if I chose to help you this time?”

You gave Alastor a look of dismay, but you weren’t surprised.

Mimzy ground her teeth. “Huh, fine. Guess we’re even then. I do a little damage to your shithole hotel, which you can fix with a snap of your fingers and you total my club, which will take me weeks, maybe months to fix.” She turned to the car waiting for her and the loan sharks followed after her. “Got it, Alastor. Your little squeeze there is more important than a decades-long partnership.”

With that, she was gone from the hotel.

“W-well, that was something!” Charlie laughed uncomfortably, breaking the tense silence and was about to say more, but slammed her mouth shut when Vaggie shook her head at her. “L-let’s just head back.” She muttered.

The short trek back was just as tense.

“What the fuck did she want?” Husk asked as soon as he caught sight of everyone. “She’s not coming back again, right?”

“I should think not.” Alastor answered. “I believe I drew a very clear line this time. I’m sure Mimzy will be busy for quite a while and won’t have the time to think of our humble hotel here.”

“Good.” Husk simply said, shrugging. “That bitch was never good news. Glad you finally see what I've always seen, Boss.” He ignored Angel’s snickers from the bar.

“Alastor,” You bit your lip nervously, catching his attention as he glanced towards you, a knowing look in his eyes. “Can I talk to you?”

Alastor said nothing, he just put his hand on your shoulder and you both were travelling through his shadows and to your shared room.

What a conversation this was going to be.

~00~

“You’ve been quite the help!”

The shadow let out a chirp, but barely felt the satisfaction it used to feel when Rosie praised him in the past for delivering her any extra meat he and his Master had on their hands. 

He wanted to see you.

But he still had three days to go and he had no idea this was possible for a supernatural being like him, but he felt like he was losing what little rationality he had. 

It was surprising he hadn’t felt his Master call for him yet, he had to have heard what he had done to Mimzy’s club by now, but he was going to do whatever he could to keep his desire suppressed as best as he could.

Bloodlust and a penchant for violence was a good way to go.

And going back to the hotel now – he would, without a doubt, disobey his orders and that wouldn’t be good.

Or would it?

Maybe he could somehow catch you alone, bask in your presence, regain some of his sanity, and attempt to tell you about his Master’s tail. His Master wouldn’t be happy and his punishment would probably be extended, but getting them over with all at once sounded better than them being spread out.

The secret about his tail was coming out one way or another.

Maybe he could somehow compromise with his Master – maybe he could only see you when you’re sleeping? He wouldn’t touch you, of course not! He’d just watch you from a distance, just having you in sight and your scent nearby was good enough for him.

“I have to say, this is quite the haul!” Rosie’s voice broke him out of his thoughts. “It’s not like Alastor to overindulge like this at all. He has a distaste for wasting food.” Rosie tilted her head thoughtfully. “And I don’t believe the rutting season doesn’t start for a few more months, so that can’t be it.”

Rosie wasn't complaining, was she?

“I am ever so grateful of course, do not get me wrong.” Rosie seemed to notice the downright ominous scowl on his face, though she did not seem frightened in the least. “For your troubles, I’m more than happy to give you any choice of your preferred meat. Any cut you like! I believe I even received some venison this morning!” She tempted him with a grin.

His ears perked up, teetering on the choice whether to accept Rosie’s offer or not. He had already gotten his fill earlier – it had been rather satisfying devouring those insignificant lackeys under Mimzy’s control right in front of her while she couldn’t do a thing about it – but Sinner venison wasn’t particularly common in Hell and it was something his Master could only indulge in once in a while.

Could he use it to bargain?

He nodded eagerly and Rosie’s grin grew wider, as if she expected his answer. “Of course, of course! I did save it for Alastor after all. Wait here for a moment. I even have it packed up and ready to go. Plus a little sample for your help~”

It only took a few moments and Rosie was handing him a package and a few bite-sized pieces of raw venison. He took them with a pleased chitter and her fangs seemed to sparkle at him. “I always appreciate your deliveries, it’s always a great help! I look forward to seeing Alastor and dear Y/N at our next lunch date. One of these days we’ll manage to get her to at least nibble on a ladyfinger.” She joked, not hearing the soft whimper he allowed to escape from him at the sound of your name.

Hopefully his Master was craving deer.

~00~

Alastor stared at you expectantly.

It frustrated you a bit. “Don’t you think this has gone on long enough?” You finally said, seeing that he wasn’t going to say anything and fully expected you to initiate the conversation – he probably didn’t even see the need for a conversation and that made you a little upset.

“I do not. A week has not fully passed. Punishments are given for a reason, are they not? My shadow did not heed my command. I can’t have that.” Alastor answered as if it were already obvious.

“It’s just me, me! Your shadow did that because it likes me, because you feel something for me, or I at least I hope you do. You know I’m not going to tell anyone that you–you might bleat because your ears become extra sensitive or whatever goes on! I don’t really know much about deer biology– do you even follow deer biology? I-I just know I really, really like it when you do bleat because it–”

Damn it, you were fucking rambling nonsense and becoming totally off track.

Alastor’s brow rose, but he said nothing and just let you rant.

“No, no, I mean, uh…” You licked your lips nervously and your face was burning, but you ignored it. “Well, I do mean that, but really, even if you didn’t care if anyone else knew, I-I wouldn’t… wouldn’t…” You trailed off. 

You wouldn’t tell anyone anyway because, well, you wanted it – you wanted those bleats to belong solely to you.

Was that awful of you?

“Err, anyway, Shadowy seems to be escalating with each day. It was contained in the hotel at first, and even then, the pranks seemed a little more… cruel than usual. But with Mimzy, that… that’s completely– I don’t even know!” You shook your head. “Especially since you didn’t order it to do that! What’s next if you don’t stop this now? It attacks the Vees?!”

You were breathing a little harder now.

“Do you feel better now, Darling?” Alastor reached out and stroked a finger down the side of your face, feeling how heated your skin had become even through his glove. “It seems you had a lot on your mind for quite a while now.”

“Are you… are you going to call Shadowy back now?” You asked hopefully, glad that Alastor didn’t tease you for your rambling, but the situation seemed a little too serious for that now.

“I believe it’s coming back on its own.” Alastor answered. “But I cannot let up on its punishment.” He wasn’t surprised by your absolutely disappointed expression. “This is unexpected even to me. I never had given a thought to Mimzy since I had banned her from the hotel, so why did my shadow display such aggression against her? I have to admit, it’s very interesting to me as to what else it may do, but despite that, surely you must understand?”

You furrowed your brows.

“I am still an Overlord, dearest, the Radio Demon. If it gets out that I cannot control my own shadow, how would the souls I own react? It might make for an amusing broadcast, but I can’t have my pawns thinking they can rebel against me. Enough souls are lost during the Extermination, I would rather not add to that count myself.”

“T-that’s a fair point.” You certainly could see Alastor’s side, but why he was still letting his shadow run around freely was not something you could understand. “Maybe just five minutes? Two? Even a minute? Even thirty seconds? I… please let me see Shadowy for just a second so he doesn’t do something completely insane!”

“Three more days. I don’t think Hell will fall because my shadow refuses to behave.” Alastor observed as your disappointment deepened even further and you sighed. “But I will keep it on a tighter leash. It won’t be allowed anywhere near the Vees and their territory if that will ease your mind.”

“I, yeah, that’s good.” You just felt bad, horrible that these things were happening simply because Shadowy couldn’t see you and maybe Alastor’s reasons were reasonable in his eyes considering his position, but you still felt awful. “If you don’t mind, can I sleep in my old room tonight?”

“You needn’t ask my permission, my dear Doe.” Alastor’s smile grew tight, but nothing else gave away any displeasure. “Of course, you are welcome back at any time. You have no need to knock, this is our room after all.”

You nodded. “Thanks, that… that really means a lot to me.” You stepped up to him and he bent down out of habit, causing you to briefly smile. “I sorta get where you’re coming from. You’ve got your position to maintain.” You stepped on your toes to kiss Alastor’s cheek where his smile hadn’t managed to stretch. “But I don’t know, try to look from Shadowy’s view?” You stepped back from him and towards the door. “Goodnight, Alastor. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The static was deafening.

~00~

“My my, what brings you back?”

His shadow chittered just as nonchalantly as Alastor appeared before glancing around the room, ears dropping when you clearly were not there, though that should have been expected.

“You have a captive audience in me. I would like to know, why did you attack Mimzy as you did?” Alastor asked, causing his shadow to bristle at him and he couldn’t help but to chuckle almost darkly. “Oh, fear not. I am not angered by your admittedly odd actions. In fact, they are almost intriguing in how… erratic they are.”

His shadow huffed before it went on a rant of growls, chirps, and snarls and Alastor listened patiently until it was finished.

“You went after Mimzy because she insulted my precious Doe while I was giving that little dead-beat king a tour and this was your opportunity to do so freely, is that what you’re telling me?” Alastor could feel his form shifting once again because of Mimzy and he was not sure his rage could be quelled this time around. “W̯͚̼̓͋͑h̰͕ͤ͊̈́͘ỹ̗ ẅ͉̚͝a͔͆ͅs͍͕͈̏̆̈́̐ Ỉ n̹̳͒̐o͟ț͍̰̆̌ i̲̳ͥn͌̃͊_f̵̝̣̭̣o̝̙ͣͯ̂r̗̰͑̌̚med̸ͦ͆ o̮ͮf t̗̰h̬̅͛i̵̥̅͋s?͈͘͢”

His shadow tittered, causing Alastor to stop in his transformation. He closed his eyes, willing himself back to his normal form and took a breath. “Darling begged you not to tell me?” He wanted to shake his head at your naivete – sometimes he even wondered why you were in Hell to begin with. “She didn’t want me breaking my friendship with Mimzy over a mere insult?”

Oh, his dearest Doe still had much to learn it seemed and he was more than happy to teach you.

“I suppose it’s a good start for now.” Alastor grinned wickedly. “Once Mimzy rebuilds her club, we can proceed from there.” His expression then returned to its usual one. “Our dearest is worried about you,” He watched as his shadow’s ears immediately perked and there was somehow a tinge of red on its blackened face. “You are not allowed anywhere near the Vees or allowed to take a single step in their territory, am I clear?”

His shadow nodded and Alastor was satisfied, knowing it would not break this restriction. He glanced up when his shadow reached into his own body, pulling out a package from a void and Alastor’s ears stood straight up as soon as the smell hit him.

Venison.

And not just that.

Venison from a Sinner.

“A gift from Rosie, I assume?” Alastor asked casually, narrowing his eyes when his shadow did not hand over the meat right away like it normally would have done. “I suppose I can at least hear you out.”

His shadow gripped the venison tightly before chittering and chirping, tittering and whining, giving his Master his side of the story. If his Master could not agree, he would just burn this venison to ash (even if that was just such a waste).

Alastor could feel the drool run down his fangs as he stared intently at the package held in his shadow’s hands. Venison from Sinners was rare since deer demons themselves were scarce. Most deer and other prey-based demons were simply killed within minutes of waking up in Hell since they were considered easier targets, and so, the deer demon population was small and only getting smaller.

Sinner venison was a luxury nowadays, even for an Overlord like him. He usually had to make due with just regular venison (though you enjoyed it well enough).

But was it a luxury worth his authority over his shadow?

His shadow whimpered and whined, sniveling and Alastor thought back to your words for a moment, ‘to look from Shadowy’s view’, before his ears flattened briefly and he let out a sigh. “All right. The venison is mine and you get five minutes and only five minutes.” He turned when his shadow let out a happy purr and threw him the package of venison before disappearing into the floor and streaking out of the room in a flash.

Alastor shook his head, grabbing the packaged venison before he moved toward his bayou dimension, needing some fresh air to think and clear his head of what had just happened.

“I’m growing soft.”

~00~

You couldn’t sleep.

You tossed and turned before letting out a defeated noise as you sat up in the bed. Were you really that pathetic? That you couldn’t sleep without Alastor around in the room?

No, no, it wasn’t that, the guilt of it all was getting to you – Husk suffering withdrawals, the death(?) of one of Sir Pentious Egg Boiz, and Vaggie’s ribbon. Luckily, Charlie, Angel Dust, and Niffty were overlooked by Shadowy, but it was Mimzy that made you feel the worst.

You had mixed feelings about Mimzy, but having her club – her income – destroyed and ten of her owned souls just ripped away wasn’t something she deserved.

All of this was happening because of you, this was your fault.

You let out a ragged sigh, bringing your knees to your chest to lie your head on them, not noticing the big black shape streaking right under your door and towards your bed.

Cold arms wrapped around you and you jumped in fright, beginning to shout when a tendril covered your mouth before you could scream. A familiar purr rumbled in your ears and your panic slowly ebbed away in disbelief.

Did… did Alastor actually change his mind?

“Shadowy?” You whisper and he nodded enthusiastically against you, rubbing his face against your neck as he practically tried to climb into your lap with his much bigger body and failed rather miserably. “How? Did Alastor let you…?”

Shadowy nodded again and held out five fingers. “Five minutes?” You guessed and Shadowy let out a chirp. “It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.” You smiled. “I’ve missed you, Shadowy.”

“♡♡~” Shadowy made those heart eyes at you again, but then his ears perked straight up as if he remembered something important. You blinked, watching as Shadowy reluctantly left your warmth and moved towards the little nightstand beside your bed, where an old radio had been placed.

“Oh, yeah, meant to bring that to the other room.” You muttered, not sure why Shadowy would be interested in the antique when time was short. You blink again when Shadowy pulls you closer to him and it hits you that he’s trying to tell you something like he did with the bleats. “A-are you sure? Alastor might get annoyed again.”

Shadowy shook his head, simply tapping the radio and it turned on, much to your amazement (though he is a part of the Radio Demon, what did you expect?) and he reached out to you, grabbing your hand and curling your fingers around his tail.

“Y-you want me to pet your tail!?” You blanched, paling at the thought. You had never touched Alastor’s tail even outside of the bedroom, you knew it was a trait that he absolutely loathed about himself.

Hell, he had even confided in you (the one and only time you had ever seen him drunk, even if it was mildly so) that he had attempted to cut off his own tail numerous times back in his early days, only for it to grow back the next day like nothing happened.

You were probably the very, very few who even knew he had a tail to begin with. Even his shadow didn't show his tail when others were around and typically only let it emerge around you as a form of communication.

And Shadowy wanted you to touch Alastor’s tail?! During sex at that?! 

Shadowy wrapped his cold hand over yours, making sure you had a firm grip on his tail and he tugged, and you snapped your head to look at his face. “You… you bleated again. Is this just another way to get you both to bleat?”

Shadowy pointed to himself and directed you to tug his tail again, which you did curiously. Your face must be turning red when Shadowy let out that cute little noise again. He then patted both hands on his chest and used his thumb to point directly at himself.

“Are you saying only you bleat when your tail is pulled and that… that Alastor reacts differently?” You are almost crushed against the bed when Shadowy happily leaps on you, tail wagging furiously. “Do you know how Alastor reacts?”

Of course it does, it's a literal part of him.

Shadowy moves closer to the radio, pulling you along with him. He gestured for you to grab his tail again and you reluctantly do so, firmly grasping it. He nodded and you tugged and just as you did that, you heard a bleat and Shadowy tapped the radio and the station it was set on changed.

What?

You tug again, hear that cute bleat, and the station changes again.

T-that can't be right…?!

“Why would you tell me this, Shadowy?!” You panic. “This is way beyond a bleat!” You tensed when you felt Shadowy’s hands on your shoulders before he pulled back. He cupped his hands, clumsily shaping them into a form of a heart and you let out a strange choked noise.

How many minutes have gone by? How many do you have left?

Shadowy is all over you, ripping off your sleeping bottoms when you're too slow for him. His claws hook into your panties and he drags them down your legs and throws them somewhere across the room.

“It has to be quick. Really quick.” You mumbled, your face burning when you feel Shadowy’s cold hands spread your legs. The anticipation has you started, but you're still not nearly wet enough for it to be comfortable.

Shadowy buries his face in your cunt, parting your folds with his fingers and keeping them spread as he laps around them a few times before moving to that fleshy little nub that seems to give you the most pleasure. He elongated his tongue, circling and flicking it before lightly tugging at your sensitive clit without reprieve.

“Fuck, oh fuck!” Your eyes are blurred with tears and your brain is going fuzzy, but you still reach down and grab onto Shadowy's ears. He purred at your touch, licking at you faster as he slid one finger towards your now soaking hole.

Your thighs squeeze around Shadowy’s head when he bleats as you squeeze his ears and you could probably just cum on the little vibrations alone – just a few more…

Oh shit!

‘How did he find that spot?’ You thought dazedly, feeling Shadowy’s finger jam repeatedly into that extra sensitive area among your velvety walls. He was still slurping away at you, releasing a vibrating bleat every time you remembered to squeeze his ears.

You came when a second finger poked down hard on that spot and you were seeing stars, clenching on Shadowy’s fingers and tongue as he released a few more bleats when you held onto his ears and did not let go. 

You sank back into the bed, muscles twitching in your legs when Shadowy kept on licking at you, determined to get every drop of slick it could possibly wring from your body. “P-please, ah, it's too much.” 

Shadowy finally pulled back, licking his lips of the last of your slick before he crawled to your side, placing a hand on the side of your face and letting out a concerned coo.

Again, your mouth is working before your brain is and you seriously wonder if those orgasms are frying your mind to mush.

“I love you, Shadowy, so ‘deerly’ much.”

Shadowy lets out a noise that suspiciously sounds like a groan.

~00~

Alastor was no longer hungry.

His venison would have to wait.

It had surprised him when he felt the radio he had given you turn on and quickly felt it was his shadow's doing.

His brow rose, wondering why his shadow was using his five minutes tinkering with a radio when it could be devouring you between your legs, but those thoughts are swiftly pushed away.

The station has changed.

He can hear his shadow bleating.

The station changed aga– 

Alastor's grin widens obscenely and stitches appear to hold his face together. He digs his claws into the nearest tree, almost ripping it down as his growing antlers stab right into the trunk and still continue to grow.

“Why would you tell me this, Shadowy?!” 

Alastor can hear your panicked voice through the radio and it serves to calm him down some. He rips his antlers from the tree and watches with satisfaction as it falls.

“This is way beyond a bleat!”

Very much so, Darling. 

His smile twitched in places, as if he were having trouble keeping it together, suddenly recalling what you said to him the night you had gotten him to bleat.

His shadow was a part of him. What he felt, it felt. Whatever he chose to push down, away, and to the back of his mind would end up expressed in his shadow freely, no matter how much he wished it weren't so.

Why?

Why in all the rings of Hell would he want to tell you this utterly pathetic thing about himself?

A bleat? Fine, you can have all the damn bleats you wanted, but this?

Did you really want to see him lose his composure – his control that badly?

(Or was it him? Did he want that???)

No, no – there was only one logical explanation for this and it made sense, it had to. You were his mate, after all. Mates tended to groom one another, didn't they?

He just wanted you to stroke his tail, that's it.

~00~

“Shadowy?”

It shouldn’t be surprising that Shadowy was gone, Alastor had only given him five minutes after all, but it was still a little disheartening to wake up to an empty room. You must have fallen asleep not long after your quick little tryst with your lover’s shadow – guilt eased somewhat, knowing that he wasn’t causing any trouble.

You stretched, giving a look at your ripped sleepwear and chucking them into the corner of the room. You would either have to throw them out or ask Alastor to fix them up with his magic and you definitely didn’t want to ask him that any time soon.

You flounder for a bit as you pull on some new clothes before ultimately deciding to head back to your shared room with Alastor. He did say you were welcome back at any time, right? There was no reason to be hesitating and if he was in a foul mood, you doubted he would even be there.

You took in a deep breath before opening the door, not needing a key as his magic recognized your presence and you slowly stepped in. “Alastor?” You called out, knowing he had to be here since you could hear the faint jazz playing in the background.

“Did you enjoy yourself last night?”

You almost jump when Alastor manifests behind you, feeling his hand stroke through your hair once as he waited for your answer. “I-I did.” You swallow. “I don’t know why you changed your mind, but thank you. Thank you so much, Alastor.” Your fingers are fidgeting. “Can I… can I do something for you?”

“That blasted shadow of mine is more cunning than I originally thought it to be. It came across something rare enough that even I had to think twice. How pesky it has become.” Alastor seemed more amused than anything and that had you relieved. “But also quite fascinating.”

Alastor is directing you to your shared bed.

“S-something rare?” You stammer a bit, not sure what Alastor has in mind. “What would that be?” You’re honestly curious about what it could be that he actually changed his mind, it had to be something pretty valuable for him to even consider doing so.

“Nothing you would be interested in.” Alastor answered offhandedly. “I must admit, I am bothered by something my shadow told me last night.” He pushed you lightly onto the bed and before you could fully comprehend his words, he was already in the bed with you, head settled in your lap. “However, I shall forgive you should you forget what you learned last night. Focus yourself on my bleats instead. You believe them to be ‘cute’, correct?”

Bothered? 

What was he bothered by? What did his shadow tell him?

How could you possibly forget about his tail?

“Can I ask what?” Your hands shake a bit as they trace the shape of Alastor’s soft ears and there is no bleating, Alastor can control those sounds in a normal state. After a moment, your strokes become more firm and his ears droop a little in response. “I do think your bleats are cute, though.” You quickly say under your breath.

“Hmm, ‘Plain Jane Doe’, is it?”

Ah, damn it!

“You heard Mimzy, she said she meant nothing by it!” You accidentally squeeze down on Alastor’s ears, but he doesn’t seem to notice or care as his red eyes stare a hole into you. “It doesn’t really matter, does it?”

Alastor had called you his mate and that made you happy.

That’s all you could ask for and who cares what Mimzy thought?

“There may have been a bit of truth to what Mimzy said.” Alastor admitted. “I did accompany women to Mimzy’s speakeasy for a dance and drink. I did it to boost my appearance, to look like a normal man. Presenting myself as ‘normal’ is how I got away with killing for as long as I did.” He glanced up to you to see your attentive gaze. 

It wasn’t often he spoke of his mortal life, after all.

“Mimzy does have a way with twisting words. ‘Jane Doe’ is a name for an unidentified female victim, isn’t it? She very well knows I never killed a woman as a human. I do wonder if all that alcohol has ravaged any wit she has left. Ṯ̡͒o͂͟ i͔̰̓̑̊m̨̫͈͑ṗ͙̓ḷ̴ͤ̍͟y̡̥̹̌ I̋ͣ w͐͌͋o̡͙̮͚ͥ̉uͭl̛̤ͧ̐̔͞d̙̖ m̪u͊̾͆r͉̹̘̈́̐̀d̵͍̂͜͠é̪ͤͩ͢ȑ m̻ͤ̌͗͝ͅy̸͇ͩ o̠̠͈ͥͭ̀̚w̶͕̚ṋ̽ m̂a̴t̶̹͌̅è͈͉?”

He was getting angry again at the thought of Mimzy.

You smiled, feeling your face grow warm and you couldn’t help but to feel giddy and Alastor’s smile twitched, not sure what your reaction was.

“I’m sorry!” Your smile was blissful and your hands were back at stroking his ears. “I’m just so happy… that you consider me your mate!” Your face must be completely red by now, but you just feel like you’re floating on clouds. “You’re my mate too, Alastor! I-if you want me…”

Your answer was a bleat.

Your head snapped down to look at Alastor, whose eyes were closed, there seemed to be a red tinge to his skin, and his smile was wonky and twitchy, looking as though it was taking everything out of him to keep it a smile.

You say nothing and keep on petting his ears, hearing those soft bleats every once in a while as you tangle your hands in his hair near his antlers. You gave them an experimental stroke, but there is no reaction, much to your disappointment.

“You would have to wait until rutting season for that.” Alastor’s eyes open and he sits up from your lap. “I do believe my previous bother is no longer a bother to me anymore.” He turns to you. “Well done, Darling.”

“Of course!” You’re still riding your little high. “I’ll touch your ears anytime!” You wanted to add to that, that you wanted to touch his tail too, but he wanted you to forget about that and you would.

For now at least.

-----

Taglist:

@chibistar45 @mo-0-o @sirens-and-moonflowers @ashdaidiot

[paracosmic-murdock]

these colors fade for you only ; benedict bridgerton x reader (part i)

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!reader

summary: one thing worse than seeing your enemy often was living under the same roof, certainly, and you and benedict suffered from that unfortunate condition. not even the eleven years you've slept separated by a thin wall only helped you overcome that hatred, you would always hate each other. or not really, because it's too definite to say something as such when a few hours could change the meaning of until the end of time.

warnings/tags: enemies to lovers, sexual tension, very inappropriate behavior for the 1810s, colin bridgerton being a little shit, two people who hate each other locked in a room, what could possibly go wrong?, nude paintings, implied smut, song: sunlight (hozier)

word count: 3.2K

❁ part ii

❁ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

One thing about Benedict Bridgerton is how you could ruin even the best of days for him.

One thing about you is how much you loved to make him mad and see the frustration on his face.

Another thing about Benedict Bridgerton is how pathetically obsessed he was with insulting you in any chance he gets.

Another thing about you is how you were willing to do absolutely anything to bother him or tease him.

You acted like children: always arguing, always making fun of each other, always making everyone at Bridgerton House completely insane with your bickering the entire day.

One thing was having to see your enemy often. One way worse was living under the same roof.

Eleven years ago, your parents had an accident, and you have lived with the Bridgertons ever since, as your mother was Violet Bridgerton's best friend since childhood.

Devastated for years, you accompanied the Bridgertons in their grief for Edmund, which was what ultimately gave you strength to go on with your life. All of you.

But that was the very same thing that ignited your rivalry with the second Bridgerton: your enthusiasm would collide with his mourning and harsh words coming out of his mouth you had no will to tolerate.

It began with his insults to you, though you knew he didn't mean to be rude, and it was all his grief doing the talk. When you couldn't tolerate it anymore, you started insulting him back.

Then, Benedict would play pranks that went too far, and you would burn his sketches in the chimney.

Benedict started sabotaging any chance you could get to find a suitor and you would spread silly rumors about his performance in the bedroom with his friends from the Academy.

Thanks to his efforts, not even being named Diamond of the Season was enough for you to find a husband, which was already making you feel like a failure, not to mention a burden to the Bridgertons. Benedict's fault also.

“Anthony, has he come back?”

He gave you a pitiful look. “I am sorry, Y/N, but I spoke to Lord Raeken to ask him his intentions, and he said he was not interested in marrying you.”

“What?” You gasped. “But everything was going so well! He- he invited us for dinner last week! His mother and Aunt Violet befriended each other even!”

“You will not like what I am going to say.” Anthony anticipated, and you already knew whose fault it was.

“It was Benedict?! Again?!”

Anthony nodded. “I talked to him… It was a threat. He said he would fix it, and I promise you that Lord Raeken will propose to you. If not, he is not worthy of you, and that is all.”

“Nobody is worthy of me, then? He… ruined it with the Duke of Sussex, with Lord Leclerc, with the Count-, I… Why does he keep doing this, Anthony?” You whimpered. You didn't even notice when you started crying, but before anything happened, he hugged you tightly. “Has he not tormented me enough already?”

The eldest Bridgerton knew all too well of your inner motives to hate each other, but decided not to meddle in your war anymore unless it was a case as delicate as this.

“Promise me you will not ruin his latest painting, Y/N,” he begged. “I am trying to work on a peace accord between the two of you, so as long as you stop doing things to him, he will stop messing with you.”

You sighed. “If I do not marry this season, I will have no other choice but to find a job as a governess.”

“Why do you even say that?” He frowned.

“Because it has been eleven years of you sponsoring me, and I believe that it is too much time.”

“You think you are a burden for us?” Anthony asked, and your silence answered. “The day you leave us will be one of the saddest for us Bridgertons, Y/N. You are like our sister, and we love you and care about you as such. Perhaps it has not worked before, but do you really believe that a man that loves you will let none other than Benedict intimidate him?”

“Gregory is more threatening than him,” you noted. “And those dimples could melt the coldest of hearts!”

Anthony smiled. “Do not think too much of it. We shall find you a husband before the season ends.”

“Alright.”

“Now go, I believe Colin is expecting you, and I have many things to do.”

“Sure thing.” you replied.

Once you were out of his office, you gathered the baby blue skirt and ran to Benedict's studio. There, you saw the painting Anthony begged you not to ruin.

It was a woman's naked figure, quite a graceful one. And it was beautifully portrayed.

It would be a shame for it to be ruined. Thank God you did not promise Anthony a thing.

It was still wet, so it was not difficult to use other colors and mix them with the paint so it would look different. You also spilled droplets of red and signed your name on the painting where he had his.

Then, you cleaned your hands and ran to the door.

“Colin!” you exclaimed, and he turned around. “We are going to find Benedict right now.”

He frowned, annoyed. “What happened now?”

“Lord Raeken won't marry me for something Benedict did. Now I must speak to him.”

“It is getting late. We will not get to the tailor in time if we go to Benedict first.”

“Please?” You begged Colin. “I can get on my knees if you wish, but please…”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Alright, let's- oh, there he is!”

You looked in the same direction as him and noticed Benedict getting home. He seemed mad, and your face lost all its life when you thought of what could happen when he saw his painting ruined by you.

“Let's get out of here, Colin…” you muttered once Benedict passed you without even saying hello.

“Why? Benedict is here if you wish to talk to him.”

“It might not be a great time right now…”

“Why?”

“Y/N, I swear to God!”

“Because…” You gave Colin a sheepish look at Benedict's scream.

“What did you do?”

“He started it!”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Did you-”

“Come inside right now!” Benedict yelled once he reached the door. “I am dead serious.”

You sighed, walking next to Colin. “He is going to kill me, Colin.”

“You do not know that.”

“I did something bad.”

“So did he.”

You pursed your lips. “Tell Daphne that only Francesca is a good fit to replace me as Auggie's godmother once I die.”

“Do not say that.”

“What on Earth were you thinking?!”

“What on Earth were you thinking?!” You mimicked him, anger coming to surface again as you reached his studio.

“This was an assignment for tomorrow morning!”

“Well, Lord Raeken was my whole future, Benedict!” you yelled back.

“Look at it! It is ruined!”

Colin was annoyed enough of your fights, and seeing the keys was enough for him to know there was only one solution.

So he did it and thought that you would either kill each other or make amends.

The third Bridgerton exited the room quietly and thanked your bickering for being distracting enough so you did not notice when he closed the door and locked it from outside.

“What are you doing?” Anthony asked when he saw Colin lock the door.

“Forcing those two to reconcile.”

The eldest brother chuckled. “Best of luck with that.”

“I know they will get over it,” he said, sitting on the floor next to the door. “I shall stay here even if it takes me the whole night.”

Anthony joined him. “This should be fun.”

“I do not care if it is ruined, Benedict… you can ruin my future but you draw a line at ruined paintings?!”

“Do you not know how important my career is for me?! You can find another suitor anytime!”

You groaned. “This is my third season, and I have not found a husband! I was the Diamond of my first Season, Benedict! And you have been ruining all of them for me!”

“I have not ruined anything. They simply are not a good fit for the family!”

“I am done listening to you.” You walked away from him and tried, in vain, to open the door.

After looking around, you noticed Colin was supposed to be in the room with you but he wasn't.

“Colin Bridgerton, open this door right now!” You banged the door, making him flinch. “Someone, open the door! We are locked in here!”

Benedict believed you simply weren't strong enough to open it, so he joined you trying to open it but couldn't while his brothers hid their laughter. He looked for the keys but couldn't find them either.

“Colin must have taken the keys,” he noted.

You sighed tiredly. “Somebody open the door! Please, we are trapped!”

“Open the door! Colin!”

“They will not let us out.” you told him.

“Perhaps we should just say we made amends and they will open the door.”

“Do you think he is an idiot? Only a fool would believe you and I could reach an agreement overnight, let alone the ten minutes we have been here.”

He groaned, giving up on escaping the room and returning to the conflict. “How are you so blind, Y/N? How can you fail to see that they are not right for the family?”

“I beg your pardon?! You do not even know them!”

“Is that so?” he questioned, getting closer to you. “Lord Leclerc, a widower who had lovers left and right while his late wife was terribly ill, the Duke of Sussex is a dull rat, and the Count had three illegitimate children by the time he set foot on Mayfair. They are not good people for us.”

“If that is what worries you so, I can leave forever after I marry!”

“Do you truly think this family will survive a week without seeing you? Mother is devastated at Daphne's absence… yours would kill her.”

You rolled your eyes. “We are not even a real family, are we? I am not related to you, I am a mere burden, so why do you not take any of them as your chance to get rid of me?”

“I did not mean that. Stop bringing it to the table each time it suits your purpose to manipulate me.”

“I could seriously kill you with my bare hands right now, Benedict…” you spoke, outraged. “What is it that I did for you to hate me so much?!”

“It is not worth talking about that now.”

“Why are you like this with me, Benedict? At this point, I would marry just about any man who could take me away from you.”

His heart skipped a beat. “We can't just let you marry anyone, alright?”

“Why do you even care?!”

“Because I cannot let you go with someone I do not trust…”

“What will it even take for you to trust any of them?”

“I could never trust them, Y/N, because I can't trust in someone who does not love you devotedly and absolutely.”

Your lips formed a line of disdain at his words. “How would you even know they don't if you do not give them the chance to truly get to me?”

“Because no one does.”

“Wow,” you laughed bitterly. “Thanks for reminding me how unlovable I am.”

“You do not understand, Y/N.”

“Explain it to me, then!” You asked, you begged him.

“No one does it like I do, my goodness!” he screamed, and you were sure it echoed through the whole floor.

You choked on your own spit at his confession, and at the other side of the door, Colin and Anthony looked at each other completely flabbergasted.

“We should leave.” Anthony whispered. “Unlock the door.”

Colin nodded. “I agree, we should let them out.”

Anthony nodded and left, but Colin was determined.

He certainly did not unlock the door.

“What?” you asked in almost a whisper.

Benedict seemed surprised at his own words, as if he had spoken from ignorance because… it couldn't be real, could it? He couldn't be in love with you.

“I…”

“Benedict…”

“You are my family,” he ‘corrected’ himself. “Conflict in families is not uncommon. It is fine. I care about you, and I… we do not want you to be the wife of a man that does not deserve you, Y/N. You are sunlight, and they are nothing but a gray sky.”

You breathed out shakily, looking at his blue eyes deeply, feeling like you had never seen such blue in your entire life. “I am sorry about your painting.”

“It is alright, I will try to fix it; maybe if Colin lets us out, I can go back to the Academy before it is too late. Find a model-”

“Is that what you need? A model?”

Benedict cleared his throat, guessing where it was going, though scared of it. “Yes, but it should not be difficult to find one at the Academy.”

“We will not be let out,” you reminded him and gave it all a careful thought.

You were aware it wasn't right. He was a man, and you were a woman who was not married to him. He must not see you naked under any circumstances, but again… he saved you from those men who weren't worth it, and you paid him by ruining his artwork. It was not fair, so you owed him.

You could break the rules a little. After all, you were locked in a room for God only knows how long.

So you nodded and started undressing. “I could model for you if that is what you need.”

“What? Do not, I-”

“What is the difference between that woman and I?”

Benedict's brain told him to stop you. It was definitely not right for a lady like you to be seen naked before marriage. Worse than that, be painted.

“Y/N…”

“Am I not interesting enough to paint, Benedict?” you questioned as your dress reached the floor. “I just wish to make up for what I did.”

You started undoing your corset under his careful eyes.

“If what worries you is my identity, I believe you could use the other model's face,” you added once the corset was discarded and your bosom fully exposed to him. “It is intact in your painting.”

“I am afraid your grace cannot be compared.”

You exhaled nervously when your shaking hands reached the beginning of your underpants. “Then make justice to it.”

Finally, you stood completely naked before him and didn't dare to be modest about it.

“Paint me.”

You walked to the couch and laid in a similar position as the model in his painting.

“I cannot ask that of you.” He tried one last time, gathering all the strength in his body… You were a lady, and he was a gentleman; no matter how rare that would be of him to stop you. It was not right, but what a sight he had before him.

“Then it is good that I offered.” you refuted.

He doubted for longer than he is willing to admit, but ultimately approached you with hesitant steps.

“Allow me,” he whispered as he reached you. You nodded, and he accommodated your head so you would be looking up at the ceiling and your hands to cover what could be seen of your face to his art's convenience delicately. His touch, hot, caused goosebumps on your skin. A gasp left your lips. “You truly are beautiful.”

“Thank you.” you mumbled.

Benedict returned to the canvas, telling himself he could do this.

He shouldn't.

But if your face wouldn't be seen, it would do no harm. Only you and him would know it's you.

A few hours had passed and the night had fallen. It was difficult to paint with the growing darkness hiding your features, so he left his piece for a second to find some candles.

Before he returned to the canvas, you spoke. “Am I doing it well?”

“You certainly are,” he praised you. “A natural indeed.”

You had goosebumps once again.

What is wrong with me?, you asked yourself.

How could Benedict, of all people, make you feel like this? How could he control the speed of your heartbeat with mere words? How could he turn your skin into a burning mess that acted as if it was freezing? How could he make your hands sweat each time he got closer? How could he make you forget how much you despised him after he said he loved you?

How did he love you? He said you were family, but he did not dare to call you a sister like his siblings always do. No, this was a different kind of love: the kind of love you read about in the romance novels you have stolen from his library, because that is the way you were feeling near his presence, under his stare, at his touch.

“Come here,” you commanded long before you thought what you would say. He complied, flying to you like a moth to a flame, but you were sunlight: billions of times more powerful, and you could consume him long before he dared to reach you. He felt like a moth with wigs made of wax, melting with each step that brought him close to you. Gladly. “How do you love me, Benedict?”

“What?”

It was unbelievable that a man of words like him could act so clueless, but there he was. Oblivious to your passion, not to mention his.

“I have always been your Mama's daughter and your brothers and sisters' sister. But I have never been yours,” you mentioned. “Why, if you love me so?”

“Y/N…” His hand caressed your face, and you took the other to put it on your left breast where he could feel your heart beating.

“Kiss me if what my beating heart says about your love is true.” It was an order, and that heart of yours was certainly right.

And right then, he knew he was careless of his own insignificance. He would fly as high as the melting wax allowed him to and fall as deep into the ocean as his own weight imposed.

He could drown and disappear, live and die for this moment. For all the frustration that has haunted him all those years of loathing and yearning. For his sunlight, for you.

He kissed you, and you returned the kiss as if your lips had ever touched others before.

They haven't.

They shouldn't.

But they are now.

It was an angry kiss. Wet, carnal, breathless, hot, feral, everything.

His lips did not caress yours or danced with yours, no; they fought and devoured yours, and you gave in.

It was exquisite but depraved in a way you couldn't bring yourself to explain, and you absolutely loved it.

Once the kiss ended, you were the first to talk. “Take it all off.”

He breathed out, nerves he does not recall to have ever felt scared his determination away.

He felt as pathetic as those men he threatened to ruin if they were to set foot in the same room as you ever again, and he took off his clothes with the urgency of a task set by the scary educator of his childhood.

You looked at him, took it all in, and gave him space to lay beside you.

“It's just us, Benedict…” you let out, your breath blending with his. “You can love me now.”

His cue.

[cow-stealin-gal]

List of Palestine Campaigns

Notes:

some or most of these are the same ones from my previous pinned post.

the owner of Amani and Eman's campaign has stopped donations

Laila Shaqqoura (€27,610 / €45,000)

@lailashaqoura

According to Ahmed Shaqquora, the organizer of the campaign, Laila is a young talented artist who planned to be a dentist and a collection artist before the genocide started. Laila's family at the time of the campaign consisted of Bassam, his wife, and their five children (Laila and Baara were among the mentioned children).

As of June 3rd, Laila and her pregnant mother had fled to Khan Younis where they continue to suffer from horrible living conditions. She started the campaign with the goal of saving her mother from the grave danger that could ultimately kill them. Their campaigns have been verified by nabulsi, fallahifag, el-shab-hussein, ibtisams, and sayruq.

https://gofund.me/f41f2b80

--

Tahani and her family ($18,193 / $50,000)

@tahanibaby

Tahani was an assistant professor at an university who studied Chemistry and Digital Marketing before she lost it once the genocide started.

As of July (and perhaps August), Tahani's family have been living in the prison of fear and despair from the constant reminders of death. From constant street killings to a siege that likely left many casualties to non-stop stomach pains from hunger to the relentless heat that burns them every day. Their mental state is degrading as I write this post.

--

Zaen and Yehya Sehab (€4,294 / €25,000)

@mohammedshehabnew1

Muhammed Sehab is a father of two sons who created a campaign to support his sick parents and to allow his family to flee Gaza from the onslaught of murder throughout the war.

However, due to the lack of donations they fear that they may die before they can escape as the bombing has killed some of their family members, loved ones, and friends. They have endured inhumane conditions, various forms of oppression, disease, pollution, lack of security and medical treatment.

They have been repeatedly displaced from various shelters, tents, and "safe zones" around nine times, which is around the number of times that many families have been displaced.

--

Siraj's Family [Stage 1: Rebuilding their home]

($28,087 / $82,000)

@siraj2024

Siraj is a father who built his family home through ten tireless years of effort that stretched for hours that broke his wallet (huge debt), and yet he also made it with the love for his family.

But it was all destroyed when the IDF unleashed their vicious bombing attacks throughout Gaza, which engulfed Siraj's family home in flames. After the traumatic experience, they had to scramble six times into various tents that barely comforted them, let alone provide safety. His children has lost their chance to enjoy their childhoods as they have no choice but to collect water over lengthy journeys and continuously clean the tents that they reside in.

Not only that, but the family has endured constant threats and evacuation orders day and night, leaving them exhausted.

As of today, Siraj had to trek around 3 kilometers (almost 2 miles) just to receive an internet signal to relay a message that gave me with a twinge of guilt. He remarks on the suffering that the families in Gaza constantly endure where many died and the stark contrast with the families living outside of Gaza, who spend quality time in comfort among themselves. He mentions a recent massacre of over a hundred people in a shelter at the Al-Tabeen School.

He continues to write as much he can with whatever internet connection he is given.

[deathbxnny]

SO HEAR ME OUT A LITTLE ROT NEVER STOPED ANYONE-

Ok anyways- Capitano, Dainsleif & Arlecchino where reader was also from Khaenri'ah and they where alive when the Cataclysm happened yeah yeah but like say they got impaled in the like upper stomach and so that’s where their rot is (it wasn’t enough to kill them).

- (￣▽￣)

Capitano, Dainsleif, and Arlecchino with a Khaenri'ahn!Gn!Reader.

This was honestly pretty interesting to write about, so thank you for the request, Anon, and I hope you'll enjoy this post!!<3 (I made this way too angsty ngl-)

Content: Vague mentions of rotting, angst, established relationships, sfw

Reader has no set pronouns.

((Not proofread))

》CAPITANO

He knew you during his time in Khaenri'ahn and stuck by your side even after it fell, and you too were victimized by that cruel curse. He was rotting away under his armor, whilst the injury you sustained did the same, albeit much slower than his. He never commented on it, however, and neither did you on his appearance. You both understood that in this world, only you two could truly sympathize with the other's plight.

And so, he made sure to let you know that your beauty never faded to him. You were always stunning in his eyes. The curse could never take that away from you no matter how much it rotted away your flesh. If insecurities arise, then he's quick to whisk them away with kind and gentle words that may seem unlikely to come from him. Yet he means every letter.

Your past haunts the both of you, yet there is a certain pride in the way you came out victorious in the end despite your cruel circumstances. Even if your flesh rots away completely, your love will withstand it all.

》DAINSLEIF

The guilt is painful. Perhaps even worse than the curse and way worse than the suffering you, too, endured after your home was destroyed. And a part of him will, therefore, always wonder if death wouldn't have been a mercy on you especially after all. He can't bear to see your flesh and body rot away, the injury he couldn't prevent being a forever reminder of his failures, and it killed him inside, even if he never showed his discomfort. He didn't dare to. He wasn't in a better state anyway, despite being somehow still strong enough to continue every day. It was only a matter of time.

Your insecurities and turbulent thoughts of self-doubt are swept away by his calming voice and words, an ache in his heart whenever he sees you reminisce on what you once were. The world of Teyvat was vast and wide, so endless, and yet you two were lonely in it, despite the comfort you had in only eachother.

A time would come in which you'd succumb to the curse or beat all odds and escape it. But whatever fate chooses to be, Dainsleif is honored to experience it at your side.

》ARLECCHINO

Arlecchino considers her past as just that. A past that she left behind in pursuit of better greater things, especially after the fall of Khaenri'ah and her previous mother Curcabena. Life moved on, and yet, you were a gentle reminder in her life to never close that door to her origins entirely. Both of your appearances, hearts and souls had been changed by the curse. And although she was one of the very few lucky one's that escaped the clutches of the rot, she still acknowledged that you were indeed not as fortunate. Not that she minded.

To her, you forever remained the same no matter how bad your condition may have become or how worse it's going to be. Her children respect you as their parents, and she respects you as her lifelong partner. And that's enough for her and you. Any insecurities you may have are gently soothed by the security she gave you through the House of Hearth and herself.

Arlecchino knows that, ultimately, the curse is inescapable no matter how hard she pulls away from it. But alas, she supposes that it doesn't matter too much, if she goes down with you at her side. It will at least be less lonely that way.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Part 4 - Part 5

You heard footsteps approaching, which made you wake up immediately, but when you felt hands on your shoulders, that's when you opened your eyes.

When you saw Jimmy sitting on your bed with his hands on your shoulders, you were surprised, although he also looked surprised to see you awake.

Jimmy: "Captain... I need to tell you something."

"...Is it so important that you had to wake me up in the middle of the nigth?..."

You sat down and turned on the light to see his face clearly, you didn't feel comfortable at all in this situation.

Jimmy: "I was thinking if we open the cargo, maybe we can find something useful there or gain access to some part of the ship that could help us-"

"Couldn't that really wait until morning? Did you have to come into my room?"

He opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out, he just took your hands and bowed his head, avoiding your gaze.

Jimmy: "I want to be helpful..."

You pulled your hands away from his and patted his head a couple of times.

"Alright, but let's wait until tomorrow, go get some rest, it's not good for you to be awake at this hours."

He nodded with his head still down and got up to leave your room, but you stopped him at the door.

"How... Is Curly doing?"

Jimmy: "Haven't you asked Anya?"

"She always tells me the same thing... I need to know his condition, I don't want to cling to false hope."

Jimmy: "Of course, she's going to tell you it's fine... Do you want the truth?"

You nodded at his question, preparing for the worst.

Jimmy: "I don't think he can hold on much longer, he's agonizing in the state he's in, his body is useless, he can't move, he can't speak, he can't even open his mouth on his own and can barely swallow. It's a dying dog waiting to be euthanized."

You covered your mouth upon hearing that, the harsh reality your husband was suffering.

You jumped out of bed and grabbed him by his uniform.

"You know the code, you can go see him. Take me there now!"

Jimmy: "I can't, the captain hasn't authorized it yet."

"He can't speak! Can't move! With that logic, I'll never be able to see him! It's an order!"

The man looked at you in silence and with seriousness, soon you let go of his uniform and ran your hands through your hair.

Jimmy: "Just imagine that he's already dead, maybe that way you can work with a cool head, captain."

Those were his last words before leaving your room.

You looked at your empty bed for a few seconds before sitting on it.

"He... is dead... like the cat of Schrödinger..."

You sighed and turned off the lights, trying to go back to sleep, too tired to keep thinking or to notice the unbuttoned buttons on your shirt.

Swansea: "No way, they told us to stay away from the cargo, it's completely forbidden."

"Do those rules really matter right now? Maybe we'll find something there."

Anya: "Maybe there are meds... We are running low..."

Daisuke: "It's not going to kill us to take a look!"

"Here we go"

You sighed as you headed to the cargo hold, the entire crew following you. You entered the code to open the door, and it slowly opened, revealing its contents.

You ventured into it, ignoring the boxes scattered around, more interested in finding something useful to bring you back to Earth while the others checked the cargo.

A light caught your attention, and you could see that there was a screen showing the ship's trajectory; there was a warning alert because they were moving away from the delivery zone. 

You looked closely and tried to figure out where they were going, your face lit up for a moment when you realized they were heading to one of the Pony Express stations.

You did the calculations to figure out how much they would reach.

That place was like a service station, where they could stop if they had any issues with the crew or the ship, but normally it was much faster to make the delivery than to go to one of these, which were too far from the delivery points.

"Maybe the asteroid changed our route and brought us closer to the station before the delivery point... Making the autopilot take us directly there... three months! In three months, we'll be there!"

You gave a small jump, excited about what you had discovered, soon going to the others to be able to inform them.

But just as you were about to reach them, there was a collapse of boxes in the aisle you were passing through.

You could hear their screams and how they called you, you felt a great weight on your body and it was extremely painful, your chest was crushed and you couldn't breathe.

You knew very well that those boxes were strategically placed to avoid damage, so you were sure that someone intervened to make them fall that way.

You let out a sigh, immediately spitting blood, trying to pull your hand out from between the boxes and the mouthwashes on you.

Until you were left with your hand raised and your eyes closed.

.

.

.

.

.

You jumped up with your breath quickened and clutched your stomach as you felt a sharp pain.

"I'm going to kill him"

You didn't take another second to get out of bed, clutching your stomach feeling the pain, but your anger was bigger.

When you were about to leave the nurseary, you heard a groan.

You slowly turned to see that man, or what was left of him, lying on that table.