#he could be redeemed but he's too much of a shit once you get past the ooh he's sexy reaction

[clownyclaushoe]

art the clown x reader 🔞 | i taste blood and it's turned into an obsession series

part one | champagne confetti

the first time art the clown eats your pussy (and makes you squirt 😫🖤) 🔞 ofc

i didn't intend for there to be so much semi-plot before the porn but it gets just a little angsty/sad at the start. chapter title comes from the song 3d by jungkook cause i couldn't think of anything else and its a euphemism for squirting 😆💦🍾 series title is from lilith (diablo iv anthem) by halsey feat. suga.

part two | part three | part four

---

you couldn't quantify what your relationship with the miles county clown was; it wasn't really a friendship and you weren't romantically or sexually involved either, though you'd be lying if you said art didn't have a way about him that drew you in, something so inexplicably attractive about him. for his part, it seemed he tolerated you most times, others it was as if he kept you around for his own amusement.

that much was probably true enough, given the night you'd met and his over the top reaction to your homemade costume last halloween - harley quinn from the animated series. when he'd walked into the fast food joint and noticed you, he dropped his massive black trash bag to the floor, rushing up to you as if you were a celebrity. it was late enough that there were a few groups of people from the nearby bar throughout the restaurant. his display making them stare, snicker, and talk amongst themselves. it made you a little self-conscious, but the funny clown wasn't fazed at all.

you thanked him, because though a little embarrassing, it was also flattering, considering the time and effort it took to make each detail of your outfit and makeup just right.

somehow you'd let him sit at your table, you asking if he was going to purchase anything, if he was hungry; he had definitely looked like he could use a meal. he had pulled out some change, counting it out on the table. you placed your hand over his, stopping him, telling him you got it. his head jolted back as he looked up at you wide-eyed, mouth agape, as if he was scared by your touch. something in your chest clenched, wondering what made him react in such a way, what could have happened in his past.

six months later you still didn't know the details of his past, though you still were curious. what was he like as a kid, as a teenager, was he an outcast back then, too? would you two have been friends?

you stared at his back as he sat at his work bench, tinkering with some new items for his arsenal. it troubled you how you could compartmentalize that murderous, sadistic side of art from the silly, caring side, though as time goes on its lessening. you wonder, too, if those "good" parts of him were enough to keep him in your life, if it meant even monsters could one day be redeemed. though you doubt art sought redemption, his dark heart beyond healing.

you return your gaze back to your laptop, you had been binge watching youtube videos, just about to search for funny animal clips, when art's hand suddenly waved in front of the screen.

"shit, what, art--" you said all at once, as you hadn't seen or heard his approach. art's arm dropped, and he slumped a little, frowning at you curiously. "i'm sorry, i didn't mean to snap at you. i was just startled." you exhale a deep breath. "yes, art?"

art grinned, pointing at your laptop. "what is it?" art flexed his fingers in a gesture suggesting you hand your laptop to him.

"you want this?" art nodded. "for what?" art insistently did a grabby-hands gesture, while bouncing on his toes. "okay, okay." you handed it over, hoping he wasn't ordering materials or weapons to be used for his next kill using your saved card info.

after a few clicks, suddenly there's audio playing. it's a woman - and it sounds like she's shouting. for a moment you think it might be a snuff video. it takes a few seconds to realize those are shouts of pleasure, not pain.

"i'll leave you alone to enjoy that."

art grabs your arm momentarily, shaking his head, pointing at you, himself, then the screen. you stare at him, confused until he turns the laptop to show you what he was watching.

a man eating a woman's pussy. and not in the cannibal sense, but the cunnilingus sense.

he continues pointing between the three of you, animatedly. "art? you want to eat my pussy?"

art nodded excitedly while pausing the video and putting the computer aside. you didn't think he viewed you that way, wasn't even sure he had a libido.

it seemed at times even art was at the mercy of his own whims, compelled to do things without knowing why or bothering to question it. you wondered if this was one of those times.

did he even understand what he was asking?

"i didn't think-- art, i-i don't--" you trailed off, at a loss for what to say. for what you could say. the truth was for an unbearably long time you've wanted him in every way possible, how could you deny yourself the chance now.

you stood, turning to him, and pushing up on your tiptoes, wrapping your arms around his neck as he slipped his arms around your waist, pulling you closer against him. your faces so close, you can feel his breath fanning against your cheek, his intense gaze boring into yours.

the moment lingered. which of you would act first and finally release the thick tension filling the already stuffy air; the summer heat worsened in the poorly ventilated room, sorely lacking air conditioning. sweat trailed down your side, under the thin fabric of your dress. you needed out of these clothes.

art smirked at you, tilting his head, eyes widening and brows raising - he's teasing you, trying to see if he could get a rise out of you. you knew he liked to fuck around with people for his own entertainment, of course you'd be no different. luckily, the distinction between you and everyone else was he's about to fuck around with you, literally.

you couldn't wait any longer.

you leaned forward, capturing art's mouth suddenly, gripping the back of his head. after a moment, art kisses back, a little uncoordinated and off-kilter, which is to be expected with art, and the almost certainty that he's long out of practice.

you whimpered a little against his mouth, taking aback by just how much you're affected by the touch of his lips and his embrace surrounding you.

his hands move down to your thighs and you hop up, art pulling you off the ground, your legs wrapping around him. art takes steps forward and you have no idea where he's taking you and you don't fucking care. he walks you over to his work bench with all his beloved tools that he kept in a particular order and never let anyone else ever touch. he cast the tools aside with a swipe of his arm, setting you on the table.

you sit at the edge and he presses close between your legs as you kiss again, feeling his hard-on though his costume, your hips rolling to grind against him, seeking friction to drive you both wild.

"fuck, i can already feel your big, hard cock," you gasp out incredulously. "want to feel it inside me already. please, art."

art grins, but wiggles his finger at you, shaking his head with his tongue out as if to remind you of what started all this in the first place.

you wait impatiently for his next move.

he grazes his hands up your dress, starting at your thighs and up the curve of your hips, over your waist, shifting up to squeeze your tits together. he unfastened the buttons at the top of the garment before pulling it up and over your head. once again he's surprised you, you would've guessed he'd tear the thin fabric off your body. you get wetter at the thought.

he's quick to do away with your bra and underwear. you lie back on the table as much as will allow, your legs spreading further apart for art to see all of you.

he grabs the backs of your thighs, holding them up as he leans closer to your pussy. he spits on it, his cold saliva spilling over your hot and pulsating labia.

art ducks his head, wasting no time latching his mouth onto your pussy, his big nose bumping your clit repeatedly.

"ohh, oh my god," you struggle to get out, taken aback by his enthusiasm, watching his tongue jutting out to lick between your folds. your body already starting to shake with how fucking good he feels.

his grip on your legs tightens, keeping you still. there's already a familiar feeling of building pressure, like you had to pee - you knew if it were piss, art would be unbothered and perhaps even like it more than the squirt that he was about to coax from you. it was growing urgency, you were so close. your hand blindly reaching for art, for some bearing to ground you, as you felt untethered, completely unfurled by this curious creature and his perfect mouth.

that pressure became too much and you let go, releasing a guttural moan as you come, squirting on art's face, and calling his name.

once art draws back, bearing his teeth with a grin. you knew there was something otherworldly about art, something uncanny, and this seemed farther proof, how he knew how to make you come harder than you ever had, so deeply, it ached - it nearly hurt.

he stands, leaning over you for a kiss, allowing you to taste yourself. when he pulls back, he looks to the pile of tools and for a fleeting moment you think you're his next victim. the real death after the "little" one.

he grabs something from the pile, showing it off with a flourish of his hand. it'd been what he was working on earlier. it was a metal dildo with a smooth head, small ridges around the side and a ribbed shaft.

a shiver ran through you at the thought of art using it on you, that he made it for you. you got wetter imagining being pounded with it, impaled by it.

"fuck yes, please, art." he pushed it inside your soaked pussy, watching the way it stretched you. "ah, shit."

he kept thrusting the toy in and out of you, kneeling again to lick and kiss your clit.

"yes, art, ah, ahhh," you grab his head, holding him in place. "gonna make me fucking squirt again."

and moments later, you were squirting around the toy fucking you good and hard, drenching art's hand and face. the afterglow seemed to go on and on, you have no idea how long, spanning like the moments you had spend with him, time having no meaning anymore.

when you both righted yourselves, you noticed he was getting hard again, huge cock jerking in the tight confines of his pants.

"your turn?" art nods with a grin.

---

sorry to end it with a cliffhanger

i hope you enjoyed! 🖤❤🖤❤🖤

© angeljeonjkk 2024

[activesplooger]

I have a special request if you’re up for it

summary: you and Adam have this mutual attraction towards each other, but the main reason you won’t take the first step is because you know how high his sex drive is, which wouldn’t be too much of a problem if you weren’t so vanilla. You liked tenderness, praise, gentle touches, and you just don’t entirely trust him to be very accommodating.

do with this what you will, please and thank you

thanks for the request! this prompt was amaze! <33

sorry it took so long for me to do this its been a hectic week (america core)

hope you like how this turned out :]

__

You and Adam were... complicated, to say the least. Having been friends with Eve, you've heard all about his "inadequacies" in Eden. You thought he was this vile, cocky, arrogant asshole with no redeeming qualities. And then you met, and yeah that's pretty accurate. But, alas, there was an instant attraction.

Eve took you out a few weeks ago to a party hosted by Heaven's elite, a party you'd usually never attend on account of being a lower class angel. So many of Heaven's highest powers were there: seraphims, arch angels, virtues- and the first man himself, Adam. Eve scoffed as he approached, the colossal angel striding up with a cocky grin.

He was beautiful; rugged features, a messy fluff of hair, a nice smile- truly the man. For a moment, you were infatuated... and then he had to open his mouth. The cocky angel bends down to meet face to face with you, "Eve, who's the babe?". Eve rolls her eyes, "No, Adam.". "Fuck do you mean "No"," He says in a mocking voice.

Straightening his posture, he scoffs, his full stature towering over yours. "I mean no, you're not gonna 'cum 'n go' with this one," she asserts sternly. "Cum and go?" he feigns innocence, "I would never-". Before he could finish his sentence, Eve cuts him off, "Adam, I've told her everything about you and us, she's smarter than to get with someone like you". He groans, "Ugh! God dammit! You're such a cock-block Eve!".

Eve's head snaps to the entrance of the party, watching as a tall blonde woman walks in. "Lillith!" she exclaims, beginning to walk in her direction. Shit, was she gonna leave you with this dickhead? You grab her arm and pull her back to you, "Don't you dare leave me-". She smiles softly and chuckles, "C'mon, you're smart enough not to fall for his crap. You can deal with him for a few minutes, I'll be back before you know it!". "But-" you try to protest but she had already strode halfway across the room. Pivoting back towards Adam, your once again met with his smug gaze.

"So," he steps closer to you, "this party blows. I get cock blocked and both my ex-wives show up? Lame.". He grabs you chin and lifts it, "Wanna get out of here?". "What? No!" you respond, a bit offended at the implication. Adam removes his hands off you and holds them up in a gesture of surrender, "Alright, sugartits. Heard you loud and clear. Guess I'm just gonna go and leave you allll alo-". He turns around and pretends to leave, trying to coerce you into leaving with him. "Wait!" you call out. Eve was the really the only other person you knew and she had left and you hate being alone.

He turns on his heels slowly to face you, the ever-present smug look plastered on his face, "Oh? What was that?". You huff and avoid eye contact, "Fine. Let's gooOOOO-". He grabs you by the arm before you an continue and yanks you along as he shoves through the crowd of angels. Usually, this isn't your thing. But, you naively figured you guys would just make out behind the building or something for a bit.

And just like you had thought, Adam takes you out back and presses you against the wall, crashing his lips against yours in a heated kiss. It took you a minute to adjust to his feverent pace, trying to match the same energy that he put into his embraces. His tongue invades your mouth, pushing its way past your lips without permission. Entangling his tongue with yours, soft moans escape your lips.

His hands snake their way under your shirt, kneading your breasts through your bra softly. Okay, this was escalating really fast- As he goes to undo your bra clasp, you pull back and try to pry his arms off you. You chuckle nervously, "Uh let's maybe slow down a bit...". He looks back with his eyebrow quirked up, a confused look on his face,"Huh? What do you mean "too fast"?".

The angel chuckles in a taunting manner, "Wait? What'd you think we were gonna do back here?". "I-I don't know, make out?" you reply. "Look, Babe, I'm looking to screw," he pokes a finger between a hole he made in his hand while wiggling his eyebrows, "I'm not here to share feelings or snuggle. Got it?". He leans in for another kiss but you stop him by pressing the palm of your hand to his lips, "Yeah, I'm gonna pass.".

Adam scoffs and pulls back, crossing his arms over his broad chest arrogantly, "Fine, your loss anyway.". "Bye, Adam," you say with a sigh as you walk away. "Fine, bitch," he mutters.

__

Since that day, you and Adam have had many encounters, each one identical to the last. He'd hit on you, you'd reject him, and he'd act clueless as to why. Although the attraction is surely there, it would never work between the two of you. Adam's high sex drive could never work for your vanilla self, and there's no way in Hell Adam would ease up on fucking for even a day, let alone for the duration of a relationship. Besides, it's not like he's looking for anything serious.

One day, you run into Adam again in the promenade. The two of you get to talking, laughing, flirting - the usual. He makes and advance, and you reject him, just like every other time. But this time, he snaps. The angel throws his hands up in the air, "I don't fucking get it! You always do this shit!". "Heheh, oh Adam I'm just gonna flirt with you and then totally leave you high and dry! Hehe!" he says, mocking your voice. "That's really what you think I'm doing?" you narrow your eyes at him. He scoffs, "Oh be fucking real! You're such a tease!". "A tease? You're just pissed because I don't want to fuck you!"

He looks at you incredulously, "Do you know how insane you sound?!". "Are you serious? Whatever, I'm out," you turn to walk away. He grabs your forearm and effortlessly pulls you back to face him, "Excuse me? Did I say we were fucking done here?". You try to pry your arm away from him, however, it's pointless against his relentless grip, "Let go, Adam.". "No," he states firmly, hand engulfing your arm tightly, "I wanna know why you're rejecting me.".

You exhale sharply and run a hand down your face in exasperation, "Look, you're a nice- well- you're and okay guy, Adam. We have good chemistry it's just...". "It's just what?" he questions roughly. "It's just that your sex drive is so fucking high! I don't want that, I wan't a relationship with love and tenderness-". "That's fucking dumb," he interrupts. "Exactly! We want different things, so let me go!".

Adam's eyes widen, shocked at the thought of you leaving, "What? No! I can be tender! I prommy! C'mon give me a chance.". "Pft," you chuckle, "not falling for that.". "Falling for what? I can be a real fuckin' romantic!".

"Yeah, right," you chuckle, unconvinced by his promises. "Babe," he grabs your smaller hands in his large one, "one date, that's all I ask! And if it doesn't rock your world then you'll never hear from me again.". You hesitate for a moment. Never hearing Adam's nagging sounds great, plus he'd probably take you out somewhere nice... A heavy sigh escapes your lips, "One date. Somewhere nice, bring flowers.".

"You got it, sugartits!"

__

Adam followed up on his promise. He texted you to be ready at 5 tomorrow and wear something nice. You didn't know where he would be taking you, he'd simply state that "its a surprise".

The following day, the clock struck 5 and you immediately heard a knock on the door. Swinging the door open, Adam leaned against the door frame with the biggest bouquet of flowers your've ever seen. "These are for you, obviously," he holds out the extensive amount of flowers to you. Taking them in your hand, you examine the flower choice, "Jonquils and white roses, fitting.". "Oh really I hadn't noticed," he mutters, feigning innocence.

"Uh huh," you eye him up and down, surprised at his formal attire. He ditched the robe, instead, he dawned a white suit with lavender and gold accents akin to his usual robe colors. Though, he still wore his exterminator mask. The angel notices your gaze on him and wiggles his eyebrows, "Like what you see?". "Could be better," you state flatly. He scrunches his eyebrows, an offended look on his face, "Better? How?!". Reaching out, you lift the mask off him, "Much better, now I can actually see you.". He turns his head away bashfully, muttering, "yeah, okay, whatever," under his breath as his face heats up.

__

The two of you arrive at the destination, a beautiful garden-esque restaurant that's completely cleared out. "Woah, this is gorgeous," you state, in awe at the scenery. A cocky grin spreads across Adam's face, "Like it? Being the first man has its perks, I had the whole place cleared out just for us.".

"Its, wow," you walk in further, admiring the set up. The restaurant's walls are covered in vines and flowers, fairy lights hanging from beamed ceiling. A dim glow casts around place, a surprisingly warm atmosphere in the cold outside air. Adam grabs your waist gently and guides you to your table. Roses pave the walkway to your seating, waiters on standby holding wine. Adam pulls your chair out for you to sit, pushing your chair in for you once your sat.

"I have to say, I'm pleasantly surprised at this," you state. "Oh yeah?" he smirks, "told I could be romantic and shit.". You take a sip of your wine and chuckle, "Well, your doing a great job of it so far.". "Oh, yeah?" Adam leans in and whispers in a husky low tone, "how good? Good enough to give me a thank-you-fuck after?".

"Nope," you reply flatly. "God damn it!" he throws his hands up in the air in frustration. You laugh and check the time on your phone, "Look at that, you lasted an hour without bringing up sex! That's your best record.". He scoffs, a soft smile involuntarily spreading across his face, "Yeah whatever, fuckin' prude.". __

You two share a nice dinner, the food was phenomenal and the conversation was pretty good. Getting to know Adam was actually interesting, at least for the parts he would open up about. He pays for the meal and leads you outside, the cool air causing you to shiver. Adam kindly offers his jacket out to you. "Thanks," you grab the jacket and slide it over your shoulders, the oversized fabric offering extra warmth across your body.

You take his hand as you walk through the streets of heaven, the action taking him by surprise for a moment. He regains his composure and intertwines his fingers with yours tightly, pulling you to his side.

The walk back to your place is comfortably quiet, just the two of you enjoying the calm atmosphere. Once you arrive to your place, you stand by the door as you say your goodbyes, "Tonight was really fun, Adam.". You move closer to him, expecting a kiss from him before you part ways.

He avoids eye contact, not responding to you, an uncharacteristically shy demeanor suddenly creeping up. "Adam? Helloo?" you try to get his attention by waving your hands in front of him, yet, you get no response. Exhaling sharply, you grab his face and force him to make eye contact with you, "Are you gonna kiss me or what?!".

"I'm trying but now you've got me all weird and nervous!" he finally says, his face now beet red. "Me?! It's not like we haven't kissed before," you respond defensively. "Not like this! It didn't mean anything before," he trails off, his words getting softer. He sighs, running a hand down his face, "Nobody meant anything before, but you do. And now I'm getting all sappy and gross, can't even fucking kiss you without feeling all anxious and shit! See what you do to me?! I shouldn't have ever-". Reaching up on your tippy toes, you cut him off with a soft kiss. He shuts his eyes and leans into it, wrapping his arms around your waist as he deepens the kiss. His eyebrows knit together, focused on the tender moment before him.

You try to pull back from the kiss to get some air, however, Adam whines and pulls you back in. Chuckling against his lips, your hands run through his soft brown locks of hair. He trails his lips down to your neck where he nuzzles into you, holding you in a firm embrace. "Don't even think about telling people about this," his says, words muffled against your neck.

"'Bout what? You being a big sap?" you tease. "Shut the fuck up," he mutters. "I'm kidding!" you chuckle, lifting his head off your shoulder to see him, "I hope we can do this again sometime.". The angel smiles softly, pulling away from you and standing up straight, "I'll see you soon then. Night.".

"Night."

He walks away from your doorstep, occasionally looking back at you to make sure you got in okay, already planning your next date in his head the whole way home.

The End <3 __

i love this prompt!!! very me core. i know i talk my freaky lil shit on here but im all talk. im very touch averse unless your on my mentally approved list of people that can touch me, and yet my love language is physical touch or something idfk guys anyway im gonna stop rambling

anyWHOOO, Jonquils and white roses have cute lil flower meanings btw :]

Jonquils: rebirth, new beginnings, and hope

White Roses:  loyalty, purity, and innocence

all the things adam was trying to come off as lol

to requester: thanks for the prompt darling! :]

[beef-brisket]

Tormentor of souls au

Darkness surrounded him like a blanket. Only he was no way comfortable or felt safe. He felt fear grip him like iron as he tried to make even a sliver sense of his situation. He could barely a muscle, if he had any muscle to pull. It felt like he had nothing to move, was this what happened to the souls he exorcised? 

Were they to end up here for eternity, slowly being drove insane with nothing but your thoughts to keep you company? Adam couldn’t even try to open his mouth to speak, well he did try, but the only words that would escape from him were from within his mind. In his mind he sighed, he was just so tired, he didn’t have any strength to fight, to argue that he shouldn’t be here. Yet what exactly was the point? He’d only tire himself further out. 

He had to admit it, he was stuck here, for all eternity. Much the same as a sinner. 

That was when he saw it a flicker of light. Not just any light, a pure white light. A light that was so familiar, one that brought him joy when it spoke to him in his booming voice.

His creator 

“GREETINGS MY SON. IT HAS BEEN SO LONG SINCE I HAVE LAST SPOKE TO YOU AND FOR THAT I APOLOGIZE”

Adam didn’t care he was just so thankful to be in his creator’s presence.

“MY SON I KNOW THAT YOU HAVE LIVED A LIFE OF HARDSHIP AND THAT IT DID NOT STOP EVEN WHEN YOU PERISHED.” 

He tried to not flinch at that. Thinking about his first life brought too many unpleasant memories.

“THAT IS WHY IT BRINGS ME PAIN TO ASK YOU OF THIS, BUT I NEED YOUR ASSISTANCE ONCE MORE. I KNOW OF WHAT YOU HAVE DONE THESE PAST FEW CENTURIES, AND I HAVE TO SAY THAT IT WAS NOT THE SOLUTION”

Adam could not believe what he was hearing. His own creator believed that they, the murderers and rapists, deserved to be redeemed!?

“HELL IS MEANT TO BE A PUNISHMENT, ETERNAL TORMENT OF THE SINS LUCIFER CORRUPTED WITH HIS WAY OF FREE WILL. HOWEVER MANY OF THEM DON’T SEE IT THAT WAY. TO THEM HELL IS MERELY A PLAYGROUND WHERE RULES NO LONGER MATTER. I HAVE SEEN TRUE MONSTROUS ACTS THE WICKED HAVE BROUGHT WITH THEM FROM LIFE. THEY CARRY IT MOST OUT ON THE TRUE CITIZENS OF HELL, THE ONES THAT HAD NO SAY IN BEING THERE OR NOT.”

The hell born, Adam thought taking in the Lord’s words

“I KNOW I AM NOT THEIR CREATOR, NOR DO THEY CALL ME FATHER, BUT I HAVE HEARD THEIR PLEAS FOR HELP TO BE SAVED FROM THE ACTS OF THE WICKED, OF ALL WICKED. UNFORTUNATELY THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT OTHER PEOPLE BORN DOWN THERE, BUT I CAN STOP THE SINNERS FROM HURTING THEM AND THAT IS WHERE I NEED YOUR HELP”

Adam had never put much thought into the hellborn. To him they were simply there and as long as they got in his way during the exterminations they weren’t a problem. There was the princess, but he didn’t really count her. He was curious however as to what the Lord wanted him to do.

“THE SINNERS NEED PUNISHMENT, AND THE HELL BORN NEED PROTECTION. YOU CAN BE THEIR PROTECTOR BY BECOMING THE PUNISHER.”

 With a simple snap of his creator’s fingers Adam felt something shift within him, in his very essence he changed. A warm feeling engulfed him whole and then he knew no more.

((Oh shit- I love everything about this! God needs to fuck off and let our boy rest!

Sorry this took me a hot second to get to- and I hope my reply does yours justice 😝))

Charlie is in full work mode and has been since the failed extermination ended. Since finding out Sir Pentious ended up in Heaven.

For months, she had been working hard. It was so hard that she somehow missed the latest gossip going around the Pride Ring.

Sinners ending up missing, only to resurface months later completely different. Scared. Traumatized.

Many didn't think much of it. This is Hell. There's always some crazy bastard out there doing shit.

But, it was when they became too scared to even function, too scared to ever be normal again, too scared that they would rather turn an angelic blade on themselves than to live with the possibility of going through whatever it is they've gone through.

Charlie was actually getting quite concerned. Especially when she heard Angel talking about it one night at Husks bar.

Angel: I fucking tell ya, kitty. People a shit scared. I've never seen the clubs so empty!

Husk shook his head: Must be the worst of the worst, huh?

Angel scoffed, downing his drink: Nah, babe. It's something else. It ain't no sinner.

Husk: Hellborn?

Angel: Those guys are freaky. Don't get me wrong, but their not THAT freaky. I had a client who said he was taken for three months. Three. That's fucking child's play. But the shit he said happened to him... fucking skinning, to pouring acid down his throat. Fuck mam, the sick ficker even dug around I'm his muscle and tendons!

Angel shook his head: There's something going on... even Val has lowered the workload.

Husk: Pft. Fuck. That's how you know it's serious.

Angel: Damn fucking right.

Charlie stood at the top of the stairs, listening to Angel's story. She was shocked but not surprised. She wasn't sure why this person has the sinners so scared, but sury it's nothing new.

She probably should make sure Al isn't behind this. She's only heard a few tales of his exploits so she wouldn't put it past him.

-

Alastor: Hm. So you've heard the rumors, too. While I'm flattered, I don't appreciate being confronted in such a way.

Vaggie: Just- fucking answer her, Alastor.

Alastor sighed, leaning on his cane: No, it's not me. I've been too busy here! And my kills stay dead when I'm finishing them~.

Charlie wasn't sure if she liked that answer, but it was good enough.

She apologized to Alastor, ams watched him leave.

Vaggie: ...I don't know, Charlie.

Charlie: I don't know either...

Vaggie: I'm sure it's nothing. Besides, you have more important things to deal with here, hun. You shouldn't get mixed up in sinner issues.

Charlie sighed: I know. I just... surely, it's a coincidence that this starts after the failed extermination... that was my fault. Simmered died because of me- I put my friends in danger! I feel like I owe it to everyone to at least try and solve it.

Vaggie smiled and pulled her girlfriend onto a soft hug.

Vaggie: I know you feel like that, hun. But you don't owe anyone anything... besides, if it's that bad, you could just ask Lucifer. He said he was looking for something to do.

Charlie: Hm... that's... a good idea, actually! I'll get dad on the case!

-

Lucifer: Me on the what now? Charlie, why should I care about whatever is going on with those sinners? Their... you know... sinners.

Charlie: Dad, please? Our guests are sinners. We need them to be safe. So please. Look into this for me? Even just a little bit?

Lucifer sighed. He really didn't want to do this. But, seeing the hopeful, pleading look on his daughters face, eventually changed his mind.

Charlie: Oh- thank you, dad, thank you!

Lucifer smiled as Charlie pulled into a hug. But when she felt and heard his back crack, she slowly put him down.

Charlie: S-Sorry dad!

Lucifer laughed through the pain: It's okay, Charlie - nothing I can't handle! I-I better start hunting a... whatever the fuck this is!

[an0ma1y-th3d0ma1y]

ive been obsessed with this movie for the past week sooo

TRANSFORMERS ONE TICKLE HEADCANONS :33333

‼️SPOILERS AHEAD‼️

Orion Pax

LEE:

- Mostly gets wrecked for being a dumbass 😭

- His worst spots are his ribs, armpits, and abs

- His laugh is pretty chuckly if you just lightly trace around his tickle spots but will get wheezy very quickly

- Gets wrecked by Elita and D a lot, either because he was being an annoying prick or he was just feeling down

- Has a bunch of tickle fights with D, has a 50/50 chance of winning unless D is PISSED

- After he became Optimus Prime he didn’t fight back or squirm a lot in fear he would hurt the others (they don’t give a fuck)

- Overall big dummy who’s also a softie :’]

LER:

- FUCKING JACKASS

- That noise he made in the movie trailer when he was flipping Darkwing off. Yeah he does that shit when wrecking you

- “Coochie coochie cooo! Awe, what’s wrong? Don’t like when I do that?? Eh, I’ll just keep going!”

- Ok listen I know they’re robots and it makes no sense but HE WOULD BE SUCH A BIG RASPBERRY BLOWER.

- D and Bee are his biggest targets (mostly cause he could never get away with wrecking Elita. Still does sometimes)

- His tactic consists of alot of poking and pinching, can and will wreck you if you deserve it (or he just feels like it)

- Easily able to pin down his lee, especially after becoming Optimus prime and getting fucking BIG

- If you just need a pick me up, he’ll be a lot more gentle :) don’t think he won’t tease you though he’s still a dick

- Is one of the only people who can wreck D and actually get away with it (other than Elita, she just doesn’t do it as often)

- overal an asshole (I still love him very much mwah)

D-16

LEE:

- trust me bro if he was wrecked ONE TIME in the movie he would be redeemed trust

- Worst spots are his abs, neck, and overall joints

- EXTREMELY feather ticklish, gets all giggly and squeaky from it

- Will fight for his life while being tickled, you’ll be lucky if you don’t get punched in the face

- Once kicked Orion through a wall while he was tickling him. They both got in trouble and almost got demoted

- Absolutely DESPISES cleaning days for the sole purpose that they have to clean dirt and debris out of his joints

- Elita and Orion have to chase him down and pin him to even get started. (Orion teases him the entire time despite Elita telling him to knock it off)

- PHYSICALLY cannot say tickle. Orion teases him to death for this

- Gets very snorty if you wreck him hard enough, however you can sometimes unlock a sweet squeaky laugh from him

- Orion once got him to squeal after getting his knees, hasn’t let him live it down since

- GRR HES SO CUUUTEEEE

LER:

- oh he’s a fucking DEMON as a ler

- If Orion keeps on annoying him or is just being a dumbass he’ll wreck him till his wires are overheating

- Shakes his hands into your ribs/sides/tummy to get you to shriek

- Not a big teaser (mostly cause he flusters himself) but will say the occasional tease if he feels like it

- “Huh, never thought you sounded like THIS when laughing.. It’s like you’re a whole new person.”

- Chases with him are TERRIFYING. He had to give Bee a break before even wrecking him just cause he scared the poor guy half to death

- Even if he’s brutal with tickling, he’ll be more gentle if you just need a pick me up or asked him for it :)

- Him and Elita are the biggest lers on the team. If they ever got into a tickle fight it’d be never ending (jk he would lose lmao)

- Better hope you don’t piss him off..

B-127

LEE:

- Biggest lee on the team, also the boldest-

- Literal walking tickle spot, you could just poke him anywhere and he’ll flinch and giggle

- A lot more open with tickling than the others, will literally ASK you to tickle him

- He once straight up asked D to tickle him and just stood there with his arms open rocking on his heels. D physically couldn't (he got too flustered)

- Has a very bubbly laugh, will stammer and beg before even being tickled

- “W-wawawait we can talk about this rihight!?-“

- Actually DIES at raspberries, will actually scream. Elita nearly shot Orion after she thought he was killing Bee (he just gave him a raspberry)

- Is so smiley after getting wrecked it takes him so long to calm down

- Overall likes tickling because it grows bonds and it’s a fun silly thing to do :3

LER:

- literally sweetest ler ever

- Just wants to see his lee smile :D

- Isn’t a monster like D-16 but he can still get you pretty badly if he chooses to

- Gives a bunch of lil lovey teases and compliments that will drive you up the wall

- “Ohh, I love your laugh! And was that a squeak too?? You’re ADORABLE!”

- While he’s poking you he’ll make little “boop boop boop boop boop!” Sounds

- Along with the obvious KNIFE HANDS he can also make little electric bolts come out of his fingers; perfect for tickling.

- Can reduce anyone to TEARS with that shit, great for humbling if someone’s getting too snarky or is pissed

- Almost always starts tickle fights in the team, mostly just cause he wants to see them all laugh :D

- Along with not being able to handle raspberries is a raspberry blower himself

- Learned his lesson of ‘don’t give D raspberries’ after he was literally left hooked in the face

- Just a big ball of sunshine :D

Elita-1

LEE:

- isn’t the biggest lee but she’s got her moments :]

- Her worst spots are her hips and back

- Like D she’s a big squirmer, will punch and kick a whole lot

- Orion’s really the only one who can get away with tickling her, if she’s in a good mood that is

- Has a very cackly laugh, however you can get some sweet laughter out of her if you’re gentle and sweet enough :)

- Don’t be so confident, though. You’ll be lucky if you can even get a single poke on her

LER:

- her and D compete for biggest ler on the team PFNJRY

- She can be BRUTAL, especially if Orion or Bee are pissing her off

- She can’t exactly punch them in the face anymore and so she has to make SOMETHING work… luckily, that’s what tickling is for

- Will wreck you until you apologize (and say something nice about her)

- Uses her skills as a commander miner for teasing :3

- “Are you sorry?? I CANT HEAR YOU!!” (playfully ofc PFNRJG)

- Good luck in a chase with her, girlie is FAST

- Wins almost all the team tickle fights unless D is feeling extra mean

- i love her sm RAHHH

Sentinel Prime

LEE:

- okay i know we all hate him but i HAD to include him im sorry

- Worst spots are his ribs, hips, and back

- Has such a dad laugh, gets very cackly and wheezy if you manage to really break him

- His wings are also ticklish :3 you’ll get some yummy snickers out of him if you get em along with some wing flaps

- Protects his weak spots with his LIFE

- Im sorry I don’t have much for him 😭😭

LER:

- FUCKING. ASSHOLE.

- A bigger dick than Orion Pax if that’s even possible

- Will hunt you down and wreck you to shreds if he feels like it (or you’re being a dick)

- If you crumble to the ground he’ll follow you like a hawk and just get your bad spots

- does that fucking THING where he says shitty jokes while you’re laughing your ass off

- “Wow, I didn’t know my jokes were THAT good! I guess I’m just amazing like that, aren’t I?”

- With his size, he’s definitely gonna hold you under your arms and give you raspberries. Sorry, I don’t make the rules

- Digs his fingers in between your ribs or in the dips of your hips and just presses there repeatedly (lazy fuck)

- “Jeez, you’re laughing an awful lot.. I’m not even moving my fingers!” as you’re crying with laughter

- Will not let anyone escape his grasp until they’re completely worn out

- I hate him so much im glad he got snickers snapped

anyways uhhh I hope u guys like these :33333

[sameschmidtdiffname]

heyyyy can I pls req something where Mike tries to make it up to the reader after he says something wrong in their 1st fight as a couple? like “I don’t want to lose you” as an apology and they get back together or something along those lines? tysm I really enjoy ur work :))

But of course!!!

Wanting, Waiting

Mike Schmidt x Gender Neutral! Reader

Summery: Overworked and underfed, you'll go to sleep once some decent work is complete. However, a late night turns into a day long fight.

Tags: No use of Y/N, no gender specific pronouns for Reader, pre-established relationship, argument, cursing, Reader and Mike both got some shit going on, hints of an eating disorder, overworking, hurt/comfort, crying, mentions of: suicide/death, depression, drugging, and kidnapping. Vulnerability is gross.

Notes: 'Slip' walked so this could run full speed into a brick wall. I feel as though I may have redeemed myself.

                     ▪︎◇{¤♧■♧¤}◇▪︎

This page is mocking me.

The hour is late. I stopped checking the clock around 2:00 A.M., and there's a cup of cold coffee right next to me on this table, several rings on the inside from where the coffee had been left sitting far too long. It's cheap, the flavor sticking to my teeth in a way that settles my lips into a slight grimace as I try to convince my hand to move my pen across the just as cheap notebook paper that has been sitting in front of me since I came home.

Come on. It's words. What the fuck is hard about this?

'It's not hard if you can actually get your head out of your ass and do something,' I think to myself. Not helping.

I have an irritating collection of drafts. Oh yes, I can start them and I can certainly plan out the works before me. But actually writing is somehow impossible, and even though I can feel how thick the block is in my mind, preventing me from communicating my feelings properly, I just can't get break myself out of it.

Come on. Finish one draft. Then everything will click together for the rest.

For the past few weeks it's been just like this. Come home, sit down with projects, and try. But no matter what I do, I just can't focus. It's as though my head simply won't allow it. And this house, quite frankly, isn't helping. It's admittedly unsettling atmosphere, the loud noises born from nothing. It's as though I can feel the weight of the dead that used to sit at the same glass table as I watching me over my shoulder, pressing their non-existent weight against me, making my chest tight with pressure I cannot voice because that's not fair to the ones still here truly haunted by their presence. I'm just a guest who overextends their stay, quite frankly.

Just a page. Just write a page and you can get up for a moment. Ignore how loud the fridge is at something clunks inside of it.

A page. Get a page. Come on, you imbecile, how hard is a fucking pa-

"I thought we talked about this."

It's a testament to my mental state how high I manage to jump in my chair, my tired and over-caffinated heart set off to make me dizzy with over exertion from fear, turning to see who has come to voice their thoughts and damn us both with them.

"Mike," I sigh. I place a hand on my chest, rubbing slightly at the spot where I feel my heart pounding against my sore ribs. "Don't do that."

"Have you slept at all?" Mike asks disapprovingly. His arms are crossed against his chest, heavy bags under his eyes from another night of restless dreams. He can't sleep, I won't sleep. If he'd allow it, we could actually get shit done this time of day.

"A little," I lie. He's just worried. About everything. He always is, which at first was something I loved about him. And usually I still do. It's an admirable trait, to care about someone and love them so much it's only natural to fret over them, to check and make sure they're taken care of properly.

Except it makes me feel guilty.

"Oh yeah? What time?" He asks, narrowing his sleep swollen eyes at me.

Details. Fuck.

"Ah, uh- I don't know, I wasn't looking at the clock," I say sheepishly, trying to flash a disarming smile and make my own bags look like ones of bare minimum rest instead of self neglect. Mike's jaw tightens slightly.

"Oh?" He says in a dull voice that is not raised, yet managed to ring throughout the room nonetheless.

I hum affirmatively, pressing my lips together and fiddling with the cheap pen in my hands, glancing down at it in an attempt at trying not to give myself away.

"Yeah, I don't know. Just like, laid my head on the book and... y'know... drifted off for a couple hours," I try to say casually.

"Ah," he says as though that were enough, leaning now against the doorframe of the hallway, looking at the other wall as though the paint were interesting. "How long after I went to bed, do you think?"

Keep your breathing even. He can smell fear. "Like, a couple," I answer with a shrug.

"Or, like, not at all," he says, turning his head back to stare down at me with a glare.

"I slept," I insist.

"Bullshit. You give me unnecessary detail about your shits post mexican take-out, but you can't tell me what time you fell asleep?" He says accusingly.

"I was asleep! I'm sorry, do you want me to lie and give some time because you need it for some reason?" I ask evenly, shrugging as though to ask what he'd like me to say, blinking at him and adding a tired tinge of a croak to my voice to match his.

"I'm sorry?" He asks, eyes still in narrow slits yet somehow widening slightly, his leg uncrossing from over the other and planting firmly on the floor as he stands straight.

He's not that tall. Kinda short. But he looks much bigger when mad. Kinda like an iguana. I told him that one time and got bit. Jokingly, of course. It's not like he'd just reach over and sna- You know what? Irrelevant.

"I'm just saying," I say, starting to turn back to my notebook as though the conversation were finished.

"No-no, I'd like to hear that again," he says. I can hear his footsteps pad against the flat, tan carpet, my shoulders stiffening slightly as I train my decreasingly neutral eyes on the wrinkled, lined paper in front of me. "I liked the part where you made me sound like some insecure teenager for calling you out on your shit. Very original."

My lips press into a thin line, my grip on my pen tightening slightly.

"It's not that serious, Mikey-"

"Don't bullshit me, and don't use some cheap nickname as a cop out via sympathy," Mike snaps, standing now on the opposite side of the table, pressing his hands now against the glass surface that dirties so easily. Trust me, we've had to clean some prints off of it.

There's a line, and at some point I'm going to cross it. The problem is it's hidden under mental sand that makes me unclear of exactly where it is.

"Michael-"

"That's formal," he says, leaning forward on the table, his tone the same as an interrogating mother just waiting for the moment where no one will blame her for finally tearing you to shreds for what you've said to her outwardly innocent statements. A trap.

"I'm sorry, I thought you didn't like cheap nicknames?" I say, fighting the irritation in my voice, barely managing to remain even as I click my pen to begin writing.

"What's wrong with just Mike?" He asks. He reaches across the table, placing all five of his fingertips on my paper firmly and dragging it back across the table towards him, withholding it from me.

"Would you like me to use just Mike?" I ask.

"I'd like you to make eye contact while you lie through your fucken teeth," he says calmly, not moving as he continues to stare me down.

"Okay, Mike. And what exactly does my sleep schedule mean to you?" I ask slowly, trailing my eyes from his hand, slowly up his arm with pronounced veins and muscles, to the white cotton shirt that was two sizes too large and usually what he wore to sleep in, until I meet his dark and slightly hateful eyes.

"We had a conversation," he starts.

"A conversation," I repeat.

"About a month ago, do you remember?" He asks, cocking his head slightly in that way it does when we both know I'm not going to dare to answer with anything other than he wants.

"You ha-"

"I had a concern," he interrupts me, now looking down at the notebook and studying it as though it were a piece of fine art. "Which involved how absolutely awful your ability is to take care of yourself properly."

"Mike-"

"Shut. Up." Mike says with disturbing calmness. "I'm talking."

Fine.

"It's fucking rude."

Not saying it's not.

"Like your attitude when I try to just help you because clearly, you can't help yourself," he says, now slapping down the notebook to gesture at me as though it were obvious why he was concerned.

I could speak. I'd like to. And he gives me a long enough silence I could. But instead I decide I will simply give him the floor.

"No opinion on this?" He asks shortly.

"No," I say with a dismissive shrug. "You seem to have them for me."

Mike laughs at this statement, and if the sparkle in his eyes didn't seem to have the same dull shine as the glass table between us I'd feel a bit better about it. But I think there's a six foot hole in the backyard I just signed a lease on that makes his disturbingly convincing smile much more worrisome.

"You're funny," he says affectationately. "Get up."

"What?" I ask, blinking.

"Are you deaf now? Up," he says in irritation, beginning to cross back around the table. "This isn't a negotiation."

Before I can speak his hands dig in under my armpits, roughly pulling me to stand and bringing me close to his chest. I should have energy to fight back, I've only been sitting after all. But a physical confrontation would be too loud, first of all. Abby is asleep in her room, and I don't want to make a scene to wake the poor child. Number two, my bones are sore, my head is aching and I generally just do not feel well enough to protest. Physically.

"Put me down, you son of a bitch!"

Verbally, I'm fine.

"You're going to bed, that's final!"

"I have twelve drafts due that I have to get done or else this project-"

"You have four hours of sleep you can get before you have to take your candy ass to work in the fucken morning, or else I'm gonna beat it into you," he hisses directly in my ear, his breath cold and loud so close to me. Jesus, fuck. What did his parents feed him as a child? It shouldn't be this easy for him.

"Oh, I don't do what you want and now you threaten physical violence. Very mature," I mock, reaching out to grip the doorframe of Mike's bedroom, purely to piss him off.

"Save me the dramatics," he snaps in a whisper, wrapping one arm tighter around my waist and using the other to bat my hands away from the frame. I can tell he's genuinely trying not to hurt me, his grip on one wrist firm but careful.

"Just let me write one page," I try.

"That's what you said last night," he says, still trying to pull my hand away. My nails have dug into the frame, making it slightly harder. I can sense his irritation growing. "You got two hours of sleep."

"That's not going to kill me," I argue.

"You haven't slept for more than two hours in a week," he says.

One nail breaks against the frame, making me lose my grip and sending pain down my arm from the awkward angle at which the pressure had snapped it off. I wince slightly, which gives Mike slight pause as he checks my hand, but decides I'm alright before he begins dragging me towards the bed in earnest.

"Why is it so hard for you to just take care of yourself?" Mike asks in frustration.

"I take care of myself!" I say defensively. Mike drops me onto the bed, standing in front of me to prevent any new attempts at escape.

"No, you don't," he says, quiet but firm. "You sit and stare at your notebook and you don't do anything else if you can help it. You sleep for two hours, you go to work, you hardly eat, you don't have energy anymore." Mike's hands are planted firmly on his hips, his nostrils flailing as he tries to take collected, calm breaths. "I care about you. Why can't you?"

"Michael-"

"Stop!" Mike snaps, groaning and turning away from me with a sharp spin on his heel. He buries his hands in his hair in frustration, now pacing between the bed and the door, quietly shutting it so we can argue in peace.

"Why are you so upset?" I ask, genuinely confused.

"Because I don't want to see you live like this. I am concerned and every time I bring it up you dismiss me, you joke, you don't care and I hate that," Mike says, temporarily stopped in his tracks to point at me as he seethes. "I'm watching you waste away and you know what? I'm starting to think part of you likes it."

"Excuse me?" I say, astounded. I cross my arms in front of my chest, cocking my head at him in a way to say 'I dare you to repeat that.'

"You heard me," Mike says, taking a step towards me. "It's like you cannot for one iota of a second conceive of some world where taking care of yourself is a good use of your time. You work, and work until you've burned yourself out so horribly you rot in bed for a month. And unless you're staying here, I hear nothing from you. Not a call, not a fuck you or whatever. It's like you're punishing yourself."

"Now who's being dramatic?" I say.

"See? I can't even point this out without you getting defensive, which just shows you know you're in the wrong!" Mike turns away from me once more, resuming his path of restless walking.

"Why do you even care?" I ask genuinely. This makes him pause again, his glare once more returning to me as he mentally questions my intelligence.

"You know what, I don't know!" Mike snaps, his voice gaining volume. "You are insistent in this fucking- slow method suicide and I'm trying to help you, but you won't let me!"

"I never asked you to care," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"I never asked to care!" Mike nearly shouts, leaning in close to my face and sneering at me.

This breaks the tension.

His face falls as soon as the words are out of his mouth, his eyes widening slightly like my own eyes. This comment shouldn't really sting. I shouldn't let it. But it does. And for a moment, I do. And he sees that clearly.

"... oh," I say softly, my arms relaxing and shoulders sagging ever so slightly as I drop his gaze, trying to shut off my emotions before they're obvious.

"I'm sorry," Mike says quickly, stumbling to his knees in front of me. "I didn't mean that-"

"It's fine," I say, trying to remain as blank as my pages on the kitchen table.

"I just said it to be hurtful," Mike says quickly, his hand reaching up to cup my face. I take it away, turning my head to the side slightly. There's a new chill in the air, one I can feel seizing my chest.

"You weren't," I say. "I'm going to sleep."

"Please, I don't want-"

"I'm going to sleep," I say forcefully, shoving him away and turning to begin undressing from my work clothes that I still wore. Mike is silent behind me, probably thinking, and I'm close to not being able to hold myself together anymore.

"Get out!" I snap, flinging my shirt at him in a rage and beginning to stand from the bed to chase him out. He doesn't need anymore prompt, quickly scurrying out from the room to wherever it is he'll sleep now. Probably on the couch even though there's another room down the hall. A self induced punishment. Knowing him he probably won't even allow himself a blanket or pillow, feeling the cold air fitting for his selfishness.

Good.

-

When I wake that morning, I can smell breakfast in the air. My stomach hurts from skipping meals, but I don't want to eat. First of all, I haven't worked for a meal. There's still plenty to be done with my drafts. And food is a good encouragement to keep working. Second, I didn't ask him to care. And he didn't ask for it either. There probably isn't enough for me, and if there is, he and Abby can debate between the two who will have it. I need to shower.

I take forever washing myself. If that's what you want to call it. It was moreso standing under hot water, letting it run cold until I couldn't stand it anymore and hoping my deodorant is able to do some heavy lifting today. I barely have enough time to get to work, passing silently by Mike and not turning when he calls my name, walking out the door as fast as I can without running.

He follows me outside, something shaking in a bag behind me. When I finally open my car door I'm forced to have my gaze in his direction, his body between the door frame and my car door, presenting me with a bag of lunch.

"Please eat," he begs, placing the bag in my lap unceremoniously and then quickly stepping away and shutting the door himself.

There's a small moment where he and I just share at each other through the glass, time slipping away without notice. He hasn't slept, he'll be late for work if he doesn't get dressed soon, and the bag on top of my thighs is warm. Fresh. A petty part of me wants to roll down my window and throw away the meal, back out of the drive way and let that fester in his mind out of hate. He thinks words can hurt? Actions are so much worse.

But there's something in his eyes. Defeated, resigned. Childlike is almost the word I could use. In front of my car is the 12 year old boy who tried to chase down his brother, the 18 year old who decided to sacrifice his life raising his little sister while saying goodbye to his parents, and the 27 year old man who's just trying to keep everything together.

I don't know what to say to this child. Or to the man.

So, with the turn of my key in the ignition, I don't.

-

It's late when I come home. When the manager had asked me to stay late I almost called Mike to break the silence and tell him this. But there was still a part of me that didn't care whether or not he knew. Really, I didn't have to return home tonight. I could go back to my apartment and just let him rot in bed the way he claims I do. How could he say such a thing, anyways? I rot in bed? What about the days I've walked into the house and he hasn't slept all week, where he's claiming he's trying to kick his medication and he'll get the hang of it soon. Where his sister is eating every meal almost burnt because he can't think straight enough to remember time. Where I've had to coax, beg, demand of him that he just takes a pill because he's laying on the side of the bed, small and curled in on himself, dead eyed and obviously tired but still not sleeping. One time I slipped it into his food. And I felt awful. Do not think for a moment I wanted to do that. There was a betrayel in his eyes when sleep began to overtake him. I hoped he wouldn't notice, but he must've. Some tell in the drugs effect that made him aware his rest was not voluntary. But I didn't care. I stroked his hair through the night, and I'll do it again. He could hate me however long he needed to, he just needed sleep first.

The irony still hasn't struck me when I walk through the door of his house, well past dinner, Abby in the bath. The door was left unlocked, which is unusual for this time of night. Mike jumps from the couch the minute I open the door, standing with his hands by his side anxiously pulling at the edge of his oversized sweater.

Everything's oversized with him. The thought occurs to me that his father was slightly bigger.

"Don't leave me," he says quietly, his voice small and pathetic like him. But I don't say that with hate.

"I just got home," I say. "Be a bit odd to leave again."

I try a smile, but it's artificial and we both know it's only for his comfort. It doesn't touch him, his eyes glassy and lips slightly parted the same way a child's is when they're trying to breathe as their sinuses spring to life in wake of forming tears.

"I didn't mean it," he says, still standing in the same place. If I was a better person I'd probably run to him. But I'm not.

If I were a better person, I'd say I believe him. But I don't. And suddenly my throat is swollen with hurt, my own bottom lip is sticking out and now we're both trying not to cry because this is so overly taxing. We're adults but emotions are hard. Vulnerability is hard. It is a damnation that we both detest, both avoid. In better states we would joke about this, would laugh and tease the other for not having the emotional capability to voice our thoughts. But we're not. So we don't. And now we're crying openly in the off-putting, attempted to look cozy living room that we can never fully relax in.

"I don't wanna lose you," he says between small hiccups, hands now balled into fists that he buries under opposite armpits, shifting his weight so that he doesn't look so small. His glances bounce between me and the hallway table, never fixing on either of us as he tries to state his mind like an adult. "I've barely had you."

In my heart there has been a constant ache, hurt flowing and pumping through my veins like the blood that ran cold last night at his hurtful words. His apologetic words make the ache somehow worse.

"I don't mean to be a burden to you," I say softly, feeling a small, stray tear break the fluid barrier of my waterline to race down my cheek, allowing a pathway to the fatter drops that threaten to quickly follow.

Mike's face shifts, stepping towards me and holding out his arms.

"No, never," he says just as soft, trying to comfort me. I freeze as he approaches, my body stiffening as I try to swallow the lump and convince myself that I can survive his touch. His touch that I normally crave the moment I'm around him, that I seek in the dark of night even when the bed is overheating, that I'd go insane without.

"I've never asked you to care," I say, voice breaking and tears rolling freely now.

"I know," he says into my neck, which is wetting as he shakes around me, his grasp firm and careless of whether or not it's too much.

"I don't mean to cause problems. I just...." I don't know what I mean, how I wish to finish the statement. If I was clever, I could. If I was clever, I wouldn't even be in this problem to begin with.

"I'm just scared," he chokes out, his breathing horrible as he struggles to keep his crying from being obvious. "You look sick all the time and I don't want that."

He's told me the story. His mother wasting away, thinning and slipping, starving and dying. How he'd returned home to a baby wailing in her crib as their mothers body lay in a pool of blood he never really got out of the carpet. He lied to me initially when I saw it the first time, said it was wine. It wasn't until we had a few glasses ourselves that his eyes glazed over and he told me. It was disturbing how neutral he kept himself to the subject. A habit he'd developed much too long ago to break.

"Mike-"

"I try, and I try and if something doesn't give soon I'm gonna fucking lose it," he sobs into my skin, arms tightening around me.

"If what doesn't give?" I ask softly, trying to pull him away to look into his eyes. But he doesn't budge, sobbing a little bit harder and gripping a little bit tighter. He doesn't respond, simply shaking as he breathes heavily against me through his mouth.

"Hey," I say softly, trying to wrap my arms around him, failing and giving up as I realize his grip is too tight. "I'm not going anywhere."

His mouth closes a little, quieting his breathing slightly as he sniffles.

"I'm an idiot, but I'm not suicidal," I say softly, trying again for a joke. He doesn't laugh, but he does pull away slightly to look at my face, lips swollen and quivering as he blinks at me.

"You scare me," he says quietly, not quite meeting my eyes. He's watching my lips, but I think that's because that's the closest he can get to making eye contact.

"I scare you?" I ask, furrowing my brows. I lick my dry, cracked lips for comfort. "Why?"

"Because I love you," he says shakily, sighing as though it were exhausting to admit while still holding that nervous flicker in his eyes. "Because when I think about not being with you the house seems colder. And I can't go back to hating this house."

I open my mouth to respond, but there's more.

"Because I love your stupid smile when you're excited, or how you do that cricket leg thing when you're falling asleep. Or how if you want my attention you'll bury your head in my chest and pretend you're doing it in your sleep even though I won't judge you for doing it while you're awake."

"I don't-"

"I love how defensive you get over things like that," he says, bringing one hand to cup my cheek, resting his thumb that smells like the creamy lavender handsoap next to the bathroom sink on my lips. "I love how you look waking up next to me, how you play with Abby. And for a really long time I didn't see myself ever having kids, but when I see you curling her hair at the kitchen table I think maybe it wouldn't be so bad if I just took up another job and saved money so that we could-"

"Mike-"

"Stop cutting me off," he says gently, his eyes finally meeting mine with just the smallest smile. "It's rude."

At that I do stop, my body finally relaxing into his grasp as I lean into him and his touch.

"I want things I haven't wanted since before Garret went missing," he says, stroking my lip. "And I want them with you."

Dinner was just as delicious as lunch, even if it was late. And the bed is soft like our voices as we make plans for years down the line. And after a week long break, the pages are finally filled once again.

Just like us.

                             ¤▪︎{♧}▪︎¤

Literally had a come to Jesus moment while writing this that not only do I fear being vulnerable irl, but in writing too. Nearly threw up while writing this. Book aable feet.

Taglist:

@cassiecasluciluce @gh0u1ishly @joshhutchersons-slut @schmidtsbimbo @sugarevans @wompwompwomp57 @jhutchissupercool . Thank you for your support pookies!!! <3

               •▪︎Masterlist▪︎•

[whiteheartlight]

Toa Metru being influenced by their metru's Toa Mangai not just Lhikan, anyone?

Nokama lived through Naho's death and the grief that followed as well as Tuyet's killings and betrayal. It's obvious which one of those Toa she would emulate, but Tuyet served as a reminder that Toa of Water carry power and the capacity for hatred and violence. when she becomes a Hordika, she remembers Tuyet's rage, and it makes her afraid. she always wants her brothers to see her the way she feels Lhikan saw Naho: patient, warm, and endlessly reliable.

I've written about Onewa feeling fealty to Lhikan's stone brother, whom he had seen in battle and trusted whole-heartedly. when the Stone Toa died, Onewa's loyalty transferred to Lhikan instead. truthfully, as they started losing the Mangai, Onewa lost a sense of security in Po-Metru and missed the feeling that the Toa was nearby to watch over them. he never had a lot of friends but had always felt that the Toa accepted him and liked him as he was. the Toa wasn't some distant hero to Onewa, he was a companion and a feeling of safety

less tragically, Matau is one of the Matoran who burns effigies of Nidhiki and helps graffiti the place where he used to live, celebrating his downfall. a lot of Le-Matoran laugh about his defeat and how solidly Lhikan paid back his betrayal, but really, it smarts to know their city's Air Toa did that. not that Nidhiki had had much of an interest in Le-Metru for years. the Mangai weren't from Metru Nui and some of them took more interest in the metrus than others. that being said, Matau thinks a lot about Nidhiki when Vakama is with Roodaka. even though Vakama is the one who turned on them, Matau still can't but think it would be a betrayal not to try and save him. he doesn't want to be like Nidhiki, who put himself first and turned on his Fire Toa. Matau decides to put Vakama first no matter if it costs him his life. he redeems Nidhiki's betrayal

I just see the Toa Mangai of Earth as the first person to get that idea of "we preserve the past to learn from it" into the collective conscious of the Onu-Matoran in Metru Nui and Whenua just took that and ran with it. that Toa was very very old and respected, although Whenua did not know him well. Whenua also once heard the Earth Toa and the Plant Life Toa arguing like they hated each other and then laughing together five minutes later. so he thought, oh, it's okay to disagree with each other sometimes when you're Toa. and it made him realize that Toa are just people too and not always perfectly measured and mature or magically heroic. some of his siblings didn't learn that lesson til they were already Toa, so he's grateful for it.

Nuju has a lot of possible heroes to learn from as a Ko-Matoran, and for all that he's an academia-focused nerd who enjoyed the isolation of his study, he loved the Four Brothers Frost. all of Ko-Metru did. four Ice Toa who fought Kanohi Dragons together?? they were so cool. but Nuju never ever imagined himself as a Toa, so to him, it was more like these were professionals in another field, or even storybook characters. it wasn't until he was a Toa that he started wondering if he was like them at all or asked himself what they would do in his place. the Brothers Frost were very independent, so it could have taught Nuju that he didn't need a team, but actually what he saw was that no matter how much they preferred working alone, they always came when Lhikan called and recognized a need for a united team. Nuju reflects on that a lot - it just takes him a long time to decide Vakama is the one who should be the head of that unity. sometimes, now that Matoro has also passed, Nuju fears that Ice Toa will die out in the world. you could call it an irrational fear, although it's true there are few Ice Toa left, but it comes from the memory of watching all four of them die one after the another. still, he tries to be like them: taking absolutely no shit from anyone, ever, but loyal to his siblings and his Matoran

[respectthepetty]

Pit Babe Colors Finale

I'm challenging myself with this show and seeing how good my color skills really are, so I'm doing my normal thing of watching it double-speed on mute, but now, the captions are off also.It's just colors and vibes here. It's been a chaotic journey, but it finally ends today, most likely with a character death, so . . .

Disclaimer: I'm just screaming this entire post.

Surprising absolutely no one, Barbara immediately forgave Charles. Like I wrote last week, I'll hold this grudge for both of us, Babe.

If this bastard is still alive by the end of this, there is no justice in the world.

Did he just give them a key to get out? They could just walk through a door, but . . . I'll take it. Kentana is trying to redeem himself. Now, KILL YOUR SHITTY FATHER, and you will earn the top place in my heart.

Don't do it, Way Way. Don't. I see you eyeing that man, but you will take zero bullets for Pete or Babe. Am I clear?! NONE! I don't care if you are wearing white compared to everyone else's black. You will not die. No.

I'm not even going to say shit about these two's colors because BIG RED JUST KILLED A KID!

OH FUCK! HE IS KILLING EVERYONE!

KIMBERLY! I LOVE YOU!

And this is why you deserve to die. Who does something like this? It's not a porn, sir. This is a murder. You're about to die. Not get laid.

WAYMOND, NO! I TOLD YOU NOT TO FUCKING DO THIS! NOOOOOOOOOO!

I know it's blood, but the 'smoke' being red too is great and I need more of it as BIG RED DIES FOR KILLING WAY WAY!

Y'all are letting Big Red talk too much while Way Way is just bleeding out on the floor, and I just need one of y'all to apply pressure to the wound so Way has a fighting chance. Please for the love of God. PLEASE! LET WAY LIVE!

Oh, shit, this is awful. Do NOT think about any good memories with this man who wore red in the past but no longer does for some wacky reason. Those memories are all tainted. He is awful. KILL HIM ALREADY AND GET WAY WAY TO THE HOSPITAL!

I HATE HIM! Barbara, don't you trade your life for Charles. Don't fucking do it. Charles came back from the dead once. He can do it again. KILL BIG RED ALREADY!

OH MY FUCKING GOD, YES! I LOVE KENTA! KILL HIM!

YOU KILLED YOUR SHITTY FATHER! YOU'VE DONE WHAT NO OTHER BL BOY HAS EVER DONE!

YOU WON MY HEART!

Now, someone go hug him! Pete what the fuck are you doing?! One boyfriend is dying and another is breaking down. DO SOMETHING, PETER!

I knew this was going to happen! I knew Way was gonna die taking a bullet for Babe. I knew it, and I'm still upset! WHY?! Why can't Peter have TWO boyfriends?! Why do we always have to kill someone to redeem them and to cancel them out of the poly plot equation. LET POLY HAPPEN!

Fuck, Alan is crying.

FUCK!

I will not be pacified with Jeffrey finally being consumed by blue. I'm still very upset about Way Way having to die instead of Peter just having two boyfriends.

Vegas' Hedgehog, I'm so over your ass! Red flowers?! At Way's funeral?! That is sooooo rude! What is wrong with you?! Read the room, you pretty bitch! RED IS OUT! Way died for the blue! THE BLUE!

I hate this necklace. I hate that Way is dead instead of being taken care of by his two boyfriends. Where the hell is Ken anyway?! Why is he not holding Peter's hand right now? WHAT IS THIS LIE?!

I trust your dad, Barbie, because he is wearing blue, but you have had to cry a thousand tears this episodes, and I pray like GMMTV's First, you stay hydrated because crying can wreck havoc on a thirsty body.

Y'all cannot fuck the grief away in the blue. You can try, but Waymond is still gonna be dead instead of having two boyfriends. This is a real problem, and I want it addressed. RIGHT NOW!

KIMBERLY! YOU'RE BLUE NOW!

Everyone is in blue, and then we have Vegas' fucking Hedgehog in those damn orange pants, and . . . AHHHHHHH *starts throwing clothes around the room and out the window*

Barbie is lighter. He is still black, but now he has the white mixed with it while he looks longingly into the eyes of his Blue Boy (who lied to him several times including lying about his death, pero I'll carry this grudge for both of us, Barbara)

Now why the fuck are you wearing red, Alan?! Why won't this show just let me have nice things?!

So . . . now that this is all over and I, unsurprisingly, did NOT get poly nor Kenta x Pete, I will be unblocking the tags because seeing black boxes on my dash is driving me crazy, and I need to reblog some GIFs of Kimberly, Alan, and Waymond x Peter x Kentana to fill this huge void in my heart where a poly plot would have perfectly fit.

I will never go back and watch this show with subs. Never. Whatever I got from it was exactly what I needed to get from it, and I need nothing else. Because what I got was a boy FINALLY deciding to

KILL HIS SHITTY FATHER

Kenta, you deserve my respect. You loved Pete. You helped all the guys in your own way. You killed your shitty dad. You committed queer wrongs, and I forgive every single one of them. You deserve a happy life, and I hope you are laying in Pete's bed with his arms around you thinking about what y'all will have for breakfast, so he can read your mind and go make it for you.

I like you.

I respect you.

I love you.

And so does Pete.

GIVE ME POLY, DAMN IT!

[galaxostars]

If you had to choose your top five favourite marauders era characters and ships, what would they be?

This question was actually so hardddd haha and I feel like you could ask me again in a month and my answer would be different bc I’m such a multishipper that… yeah xD but for now here it issss :

Fave characters :

1. James Potter : mhm I love myself an arrogant goofball who’s actually smarter than people give him credit for, who’s got so much love he’s impulsive with it and hurts the ones he loves, who doesn’t know what to do with the loneliness that grips him sometimes, who defines himself by his ability to help people, who rarely allows himself to express himself negatively (ex : sadness/anger/frustration) because if there’s one thing that he fears the most, it’s hurting people. Plus, he hasn’t got any trauma or anything so why should he complain, yk?

Basically I love a good flawed James, and the sort of character where you wouldn’t expect him to have issues yk

2. Sirius Black : I mean… cmon do I even need to explain? ‘Cause if I start idk when I’ll stop, like literally. Ive had a crush on this character since I was eleven and never grew out of it, its almost embarrassing if it wasn’t completely justified (and the only reason he’s not number one is just because I write him less than James so I feel like I know him less intimately but like if you’d have asked me before I started writing I’d have put him number one for sure)

3. Regulus Black : !!!!! sorry but indoctrinated younger ‘abandoned’ (in between quotes bc he was not Sirius’ responsibility and Sirius was right to save himself but it’s also very normal for regulus to feel that way etc etc… we know the drill) sibling who’s faced with sudden delusion about this superior figure he’s followed/served, everything he’s lost in the process, and who redeems himself by going on this suicide mission that ends up being useless? (And unknown by Sirius AHHHH.) The guy is literally so smart and technically such a loser bc he doesn’t serve much for the plot and that’s what compelled me so much the first time I read hp 😭 he’s so tragic I love it

4. Narcissa Black : younger sibling; once again similar pattern to regulus but she survived, she’s so smart I’m, like, shaky in the knees, (esp i love female characters who do what they have to do to survive), she’s powerful too, and jkr is shit at writing female characters and I will never not be pissed abt it but I do think cissa was very compelling (+ Helen McCrory’s acting game was sooo perfect), very protective of her family and will stop at nothing to protect them, and that’s a value I respect so much. I will say, in general, any member of the black family is very compelling to me. Bellatrix would come right after narcissa in terms of fave from that family.

5. Barty Crouch Jr : listen if you know me, you know I’m… idk how to define myself actually, but I like unhinged stuff so. This is like. Peak unhingedness. Paired with intelligence bc we know canonically that man was smart af, and daddy issues? Dark hair, too? You just described my type. He’s even more compelling in tragic storylines (like past bartylus and barty joining Voldemort for regulus and then faced w the delusion and the grief? Gut wrenching) so yup.

Favorite pairings :

1. Moonshine (remus/james) : I know this sounds weird but a certain fanfic re wrote my brain chemistry and ever since then I’ve been obsessed. I just think they’re so tragically beautiful together. They’re both very selfless beings that just give and give and never prioritize themselves and together it’s a mess. They keep hurting each other because they’re so selfless, they’re not very good at reading each other and they let their insecurities get the best, they’re both frightened of how much they love, of the other not wanting them, of needing to « tame » their emotions. I love them.

2. Prongsfoot : FUCKING FOAMING AT THE MOUTH ARE YOU KIDDING ME??? Together they’re. They. Just. I hate them bc of how much I love them if that makes sense. They’re everything. A law of the universe and whatnot. I love everyyyy fucking version of them. They make me cry they make me scream they make me smile they make me laugh, they’re literally my comfort ship.

3. Jegulus : they’re kind of the pairing that made me join the fandom, and though I don’t read them as much as I used to, they’ll always make me so soft. Enemies to lovers? Yeah, well I’m not immune yk. Best friend’s brother? Even better. Tragic and doomed? Yeah sign me the fuck up. I will say I like them just as much when it’s jegulily, but that’s also because I think poly relationships are so complex and compelling.

4. Moonwater : and not platonic haha, i have to say that basically i ship anyone who’s very smart imo with regulus, and Remus passes the test. Plus he’s also introverted, a book nerd, done with James and Sirius so i feel like they could bond very easily. I prefer them in a non canon sitting tho for some reason, but yeah I’m. So fond of them. They get into heated debates. Even their ship name is so dear to me because, that’s like both their biggest fears and pairing them in one name feels like they can overcome them if they’re together ? 😭 it’s so sweet (plus, it allows me to ship prongsfoot on the side lmfao)

5. Regulily : same reasoning as up there but like they’re probs the only het pairings that I really really love. i never expected them to be so important (but *cough cough* disintegration happened…) but honestly they make a lot of sense? I feel like Regulus would be more confident with Lily, and Lily would feel more calm with Regulus? They’re that scary hot powerful quiet couple yk. Anddd they can bond over siblings angst lmao.

[jessilynallendilla]

Adamsapple AdamXLucifer

Home Post

Splinter Fractures (M 188,102) 

Adam makes a deal to get a moment's reprieve from his overall awful situation in Hell. Lucifer is riding a hatred high and agrees. Adam turns out to have miscalculated his own trauma and Lucifer gets to deal with Emotions. Also there’s plot now. Redemption things, slow burn romance! Two idiots who don’t like each other and can’t communicate! Political Heaven nonsense. Fun times 

A Taste of Schadenfreude (EX 44,458) SERIES 

Sometimes, it was easy to forget that Lucifer is THE King of Hell, that he's commanded the respect of the other Sins as the top of the food chain, and for good reason. He has a kind heart, but his soul has long since been forged into wrought iron, easy to burn once he's fired up. After the last Extermination, he finds Adam not as dead as previously thought, and decides if Heaven won't spare the rod and spoil the child, he'd do their job for them...even if he enjoys it a little too much. 

Be Lonely With Me (M) 

After Niffty stabs Adam to death, he wakes up in the Garden of Eden again. However, he is not alone. 

You Don’t Take Shit From Demons (Or Angels) (EX) 

Charlie Morningstar, in a moment of frustration and panic, strikes a deal with Adam. If she can prove to Adam that her plan for redeeming sinners is possible, then Adam would have no choice but to stop the yearly Exterminations and support her plan. If she fails, then Adam will continue leading the Angel Army and she’ll be forced to give up her dream. Or, Adam stays at the Hazbin Hotel for six months 

From Adam to Ada (EX) 

The First Man is also the First Woman, at least…technically. The angels would prefer to not acknowledge that fact, but Adam quit total obedience a long time ago. Then she gets pregnant after she spends one unforgettable night with her former-best-friend-current-immortal-enemy, and the Seraphim and Higher Choirs have her excommunicated. To add salt on the festering wound, Sera takes Adam's wings and drops her on Lucifer's doorstep, leaving Adam to an incensed Lucifer's mercy. Now, imprisoned in Lucifer's palace in Hell, Adam finds she must adjust to her new daily life, while wrestling with emotions, feelings, and memories she's long since repressed, as everything she's ever known and believed come into question. 

Maybe This Time  (M) 

Adam comes from a conservative, evangelical upbringing that leads him to deny his own feelings. He has one short lived disastrous marriage to Lilith, a childhood friend - followed by an even worse marriage and subsequent divorce to Eve. Disowned by his family, two failed marriages in, Adam has no one left besides his two twin sons, Cain and Abel. He dedicates his entire self to them, taking care of them, not allowing himself anything else. Too bad they seem to prefer their much wealthier step father, Lucifer Morningstar. 

The Ultimate Deal With The Devil  (EX) 

They finally finished rebuilding the hotel and emotions were high after the extermination just happening. Lucifer was over the moon to finally be active in his daughter's life and he is more than determined to make her dream come true. There was just one tiny, itty bitty, liiitle wrench thrown into this whole 'happily ever after' that was just beginning and it all came down to one impulsive decision Lucifer decided to make when he starts to reminisce about the past with the now dead ex-leader of the exorcists. Really, how much harm could be done? But more importantly, oh god why the FUCK did he just do that?! Lucifer can make this right! He can't exactly press undo but uhhhh, they can make this work? Right Charlie??? Lucifer can only hope his daughter will understand because he's preeeetty positive no one else will. 

Featherspawn  (NR) 

After a much bloodier fight between Lucifer and Adam followed by an angelic weapon through the chest, Adam dies. At least, he was supposed to. Against all odds, he survives and even heals exceptionally well- too well. Waking up after a month long coma should be a cause for celebration, but the looks of abject discomfort from everyone around him quickly leads to a revelation that threatens the balance of Heaven, Hell, and most importantly: his manhood. Still, the look on Lucifer's face when he finds out about this is going to be priceless. Right? 

Unholy Child   (M) 

Not long after Adam tells Charlie that the exorcists will be back in six months, he shows up on the doorstep of the Hazbin Hotel. He has no halo, his eyes have changed color. But more importantly, Adam is holding a newborn child that he claims is Lucifer's. 

Temptations  (EX 6,761) 

As punishment for his blasphemous mouth and attitude, Adam is forced to hear confessions. He is less then thrilled. Especially when he’s forced to do it in such a ludicrous uniform. It's such a boring punishment... until his last confession comes creeping in with an oddly familiar pair of red eyes... 

Lamb  (T) 

Adam was many things: the first human in the world, the first mortal made angel, the commander of the Exorcist, the Dickmaster and overall just a fucking awesome person. A long time ago he was also a Father. And when he almost made himself forget about that particular title, the universe made sure to remind him of it. 

The Quintessence Of Dust  (M) 

For a second, Lucifer didn’t see the bloodthirsty Angel that had come down from heaven to exterminate them. For a second, he saw the man Adam had been in the garden, and he half expected him to tilt his head in confusion, like he had done so often, when he had still tried to understand the workings of the universe. 

When All That’s Left Is Apathy  (M  11,466) SERIES 

Adam is a Sinner, and an unwitting participant in the Hazbin Hotel. He doesn't know why he's there. Nobody wants him there. Everyone wishes he'd just fuck off and/or die, and to be honest, he's not exactly in disagreement. He's only Charlie's pet project. The butt of Alastor's jokes. Niffty's target practice. Vaggie, Husk and Angel's verbal abuse sponge. Lucifer's whipping boy. But he takes it. He's Adam, the First Man. He can take it. He can take it. 

[leajdh]

Gold Rush

Chapter One: You did it to me like you’ve played this game before 

He was just a few more steps away from becoming a living legend. Already praised by the media as the honored one, he made a grave mistake which not only put his Ice Hockey career on hold, it disappointed even his most loyal fans so much so that his reputation sank to an all-time low.

Then he meets you; a retired figure skating champion who is now trying to find her purpose in life after her triumphs, all while still being loved and cherished by the media and public likewise.

Satoru Gojo sees his chance to not only get back unto the rink, but also to regain his former popularity.

But he soon realizes it will be a lot harder to get on your good side, because he's everything you despise combined into one person.

Will you give him a second chance and allow him to redeem himself, or is this going to be the match for your life time?

Gojo Satoru x reader (first person narrator)

Ice Hockey AU

FAKE DATING TROPE

Enemies to lovers

English isn't my first language, so expect some grammar errors

18+!!

ALL CHAPTERS:

The sweat is dripping down my face. I brush it off with the end of my sleeve. Breathing heavily I try to regain focus on the clock hanging across the rink. Shit, it’s after 10pm already. 

When I’m on the rink, I sometimes forget the time, especially when no one's eyes are on me. It’s not like I’m not used to being watched. I had countless tribunes full of people watching my every move since my first competition at the young age of six. And don’t get me started on the millions of people who watched me compete and win in the Olympics. Two times. First at 18, then 22 and now at 26 a new girl took my place on the Olympic team. I still land all my jumps, I would even argue I’m better than I was at 22, but I quit competition skating. I lived my mothers dream two times. I think that’s enough. 

Wishing I could say, I want to fulfill my own dream now, I skate off the rink and put the protection covers over the blades, stomping to my bag where I change into sneakers. As I tumble over the tribune I notice the lights in my uncle's bureau are still on. He told me he had a meeting but I didn’t think it would take that long. 

Walking past the long hallway, I see my medals and goblets shining inside the glass cabinets. I’ve wasted my entire life on the rink for some bright metal things and titles people seem to care about, but I don’t. I used to though. I loved the competition, I loved the crowd cheering for me, I loved to win, always pushing myself past my limits so I would be the one holding Gold in my hands and see my mother smile.

But then on the night as I came back home from the Olympic Games with medals around my neck, I started to panic. I did it, I reached the life goal, again not only once, I did it twice. My entire life I was so focused on ice skating, I didn’t have a plan of what I would do once I achieved this longlife goal. Most girls my age are getting their life started, while I feel like mine’s already over. I have no plan and worse, no motivation to change it. Everything I had on my mind for the last 4 years felt dull compared to competition skating. I tried being a coach, but it made me feel stuck even more, so I quit that too. My old coach Mei Mei said I’m being unreasonable and my self-pity is unbearable. I know I am. Thousands of young girls wish they were in my shoes. And it made me feel ungrateful and straight up horrible, but once I realized being a champion wasn’t my own dream to begin with, it was my mothers all along, I can have as much pity for myself as I want.

Now I only skate for myself, with a blank mind, no goal to reach. Just for me. 

I was about to approach uncle's door to check on him, as it swung open and a skinny, dark haired man with big glasses stepped out. He doesn’t notice me while shaking my uncle's hand before turning around, walking towards the exit. Hearing my uncle’s tormented sigh I startled him by quickly stomping over. 

“Jesus, oh! Don’t give me a heart attack! What are you still doing here?”, uncle Masamichi asks with his hand dramatically laying over his chest. 

“What do you think I’m still doing here?”, I ask him right back, knowing he can already tell. 

“Thought you only wanted to skate for an hour”, he says, giving me an intense look, which I ignore: “Long meeting, huh? What was it about?”

He knows better not to start a discussion with me about skating. He wishes I would still compete. For my mothers sake, but more so for mine. He sees me just living from day to day with no purpose. Figure skating gave me a purpose, but this chapter is over. At least he understood my reasoning, even though it doesn’t hinder him from telling me to compete again. I get it, the way he saw me my entire life. I was in skates before I could even properly walk. It’s in my genes, being the daughter of a figure skater and a NHL ice hockey player. Even though one is dead and the other one I only ever saw on the TV. I don’t know a lot about my dad and to be honest I don’t care to learn about him. He left my pregnant mom to play for the New Jersey Devils, completely cutting contact, only talking to her through a lawyer. He lived his dream while my mother scratched hers and handed it down to me. 

She was part of the Olympic team when she found out she was pregnant with me. Due to immense pregnancy symptoms she had to leave the team, and her dream, behind. 

A week after it was announced that I will be joining the Olympic team, my mother was killed by a drunk driver. He lost control over his car and hit her as she was jogging on the sidewalk. I was so devastated, I took all my grief into skating, knowing she would be mad if I didn’t give my all. With this way of coping with her death, I don’t think I ever processed it correctly, if there even is a right way to do so.

She never saw me standing on the pedestal. This thought haunts me in my dreams. Especially after accepting she wanted to live her dream through me. 

Uncle Masamichi took me in. I was 18, so neither my dad nor the state cared about me. Since the incident Masamichi not only manages the ski resort, he also took over my mothers job as the rink owner. Masamichi isn’t a fan of any sport that’s on ice, he prefers snow, but the rink is a huge source of income, particularly when the resort is empty in between skiing seasons.

“It’s actually good you’re still around. I need to talk to you”, he says and walks right back into his bureau. He takes a seat behind his desk and waits for me to sit on the used up couch right by the door. I don’t know why but I get nervous. Fidgeting with my fingers in one of the holes of the couch, I patiently await whatever uncle Masamichi wants to tell me. While peeling parts of the fake leather off, he finally speaks: “A NHL team wants to rent the rink for one of their players. He was injured and needs extra training to get back into the team before the next playoffs. I know you’re not a fan of ice hockey but they offer a lot of money which we could need.” 

Hearing NHL makes me sit up. Yasamichi respected my wish a few years ago to stop letting the local university ice hockey team play on the rink, even though it cut a big chunk out of his pockets. I just couldn’t stand it anymore, to see NHL coaches, managers and talent scouts walking in and out of my safespace, the place I feel the most connected to my mother. 

Especially after someone from the Devils visited to look out for talented players. Upon seeing the red logo on his chest and clipboard, I freaked out and pleaded with Masamichi to end the contract with the university. I was so panicked that one day I could walk into the hall and see my father standing there, on my rink, looking for new players. I’m pretty sure he would avoid this ice rink like a vampire shuns light, but right before uncle cut the contract with the university, my father retired as a player and went straight ahead to be a coach. Seeking talents is now part of his job and he loves nothing more than ice hockey. He would even face me for the benefit of his team. He doesn’t love me but by the few times I saw him on TV or heard him talk in interviews, I can tell he loves his team. 

I snip the fake leather on the floor and think about it for a few seconds. 

The last few years were hard. Shortly after my mother died and my father remembered that he has a daughter, his lawyer sent me a perfectly timed letter on my 18th birthday to inform me, he won’t pay alimony anymore. It was not like he gave me a lot anyway, but it still teared up the hole in our income more. If I had gone to court, I would have gotten an immense additional payment on alimony just by knowing how much my father makes a month and how little money he had sent me over the years. But I was too prideful and I knew I could make it as a figure skater. I started to work even harder, gained sponsors and of course made money from all the competitions, but the money is still tight, primarily because I don’t really have a real job and not knowing what to do with your life leads you to doing stupid stuff, like buying expensive clothes and renovating the entire resort out of nowhere. 

“Must be a shit ton of money they offered you, otherwise you would have never asked.”

“They seem really fond of this player, apparently he’s the one bringing the trophies home”, is all he says. 

“As long as he isn’t a Devil, I think I can handle it. How many times a week do they need the rink?”, I'm not happy about it, but I also have to realize that I’m in no position to disagree. Without my uncle, I wouldn’t have a roof over my head. 

“All weekdays, times open, depending on the progress they make. They will also sometimes be using our fitness center and stay in the resort. Everything about this is top secret. I’ve signed an NDA to even be able to have this meeting. I actually think I broke it by talking to you.”

I laugh: “Sounds like they don’t want publicity. Not like I will know him anyway, but what’s his name?”

I only know one name in the NHL and it’s my dads. 

He lets himself fall back into his chair and sighs again. By his reaction I can already tell, I won’t like where this is going. 

“Gojo Satoru.”

I don’t understand Masamichis grimace. I have never heard that name before. 

“Is he a Devil or why are you so shy about it?”, I snicker.

“Not even for a million dollars would I consider letting a Devil skate here. No, he’s a Ranger.”

A Ranger? I look confused. I would have expected someone from a team nearby but someone from New York City. The city that never sleeps. Sending a guy from there over to this town in the middle of nowhere sounds more like a punishment than help.

My interest in ice hockey is non-existing, but even I know about the rivalry between the Devils and the Rangers. They hate each other to the bone. This conflict and hatred is engraved in the teams for at least 50 years. Kind of crazy how rivalry can prevail for so long. 

But all I have to say is, whoever hates my dad, gets plus points from me. Even if they are ice hockey players.

“What did he do that was so bad, they must hide him here?”, it is starting to get amusing. I’m not really fond of having an ice hockey player on my rink but that he clearly fucked something up and is forced into exile, makes it a bit funny to me. Seeing me smiling like a little kid completely changes Masamichis expression. He gives me a sad look before turning his face away: “He drove under the influence and crashed his car into a guard rail. Luckily he only hurt himself, but you can guess how bad the media outcry was.”

I understand why he was so timid about it. A drunk driver took my mother from earth and now he wants to rent the rink out to one. 

“Is he clean?”, I ask, again sticking my finger in the holes of the couch. 

“It’s part of the contract. They assured me, he hasn't had a drop of alcohol since the crash.”

“I hope you bargained a good amount of money if he breaks the contract. I don’t trust people like him.”

“You don’t know him.”

“Ha, and you do?”

“No, but people deserve a second chance.”

I argue, ignoring the stinging tears in my eyes: “So moms murderer deserves one too?”

“I-”, he stops.

“Doesn’t matter, because he already got one from the court. Five years, and half of it he spent in probation. He has a daughter now, did you know this? With his wonderful wife. He sells houses and the one he lives in is even better than the one he puts on the market. Judging by the photos he posts on social media, his in-laws love him. Do you think they know he killed an innocent woman? With such big smiles for the camera they either don’t know or don’t give a fuck. At least I thought you gave one.”

“You should stop looking him up.”

“Imagine that Ranger killed someone. I bet on my life he wouldn’t even spend one second in prison.”

“I agreed to sign the contract and they have already settled into the resort. Tomorrow they come back to finalize it”, he completely ignored what I said. 

“So you actually don’t give a fuck about my opinion?”   

“I do care about your opinion but I need you to understand my point. He isn’t allowed to drink alcohol. They even took his license. His career will be over if he fucks up again. If we don’t agree on helping him out, we will just make it harder for him to redeem himself. And I know you don’t want to be the one who stands in the way of someone’s dream.” 

For a second I forgot who I was talking to. 

Of course my uncle wants to help him. Yet another young man, who came in contact with the law and needs guidance. Even before I was born, he took care of young juveniles. Keeping them off the streets, so they wouldn’t get stupid thoughts. He trained them not only in skiing, he listened to them and taught them morals. He definitely saved a few from ending up in prison.   

I stand up and notice immediately that I’ve created a huge hole in that couch. Plucking the fake leather off my fingers, I turn towards the door to leave. 

“All this drama for one player. Are you even sure it’s his dream or theirs?”

I walk out of the door without waiting for an answer, but I’m sure he hasn’t got anything to say. Taking out my phone to distract myself, I see messages from my friend Hime, pleading with me to get her a fatty burger with fries from Franks pub. She works at the resort as co-manager, but usually mixes the drinks behind the bar. We share a cabin on the outskirt of the resort grounds. 

I text her a thumbs up and she immediately sends a hundred hearts back. Jumping straight into my car, I call Frank to let him know I will pick up two burgers in twenty minutes. He huffs into the phone and hangs up. 

With my phone in both hands, I walk towards Frank's pub. On the screen thousands of articles pop up after I googled Satoru Gojo. About his huge accomplishments since joining the Rangers. After he graduated from UCLA, they immediately gave him a contract for a decade. Quite unusual but they didn’t seem to regret it. Since joining them, his team won three times the Stanley cup, and thereof two years in a row. Articles put words like ‘legend’, ‘the strongest’, ‘the honored one’ in front of his name. He has more sponsors than I have fingers, is the brand ambassador of Burberry and Dior and had a campaign with Patek Philippe. With over 50 million instagram followers, he is the most followed ice hockey player in history. And I understand why. He’s not only insanely talented on ice, he is absolutely stunning as well. Tall with broad shoulders covered in muscles, watercolor ocean blue eyes and hair as white as snow. In every single picture, even ones from the press, he looks handsome. Either way smiling brightly into the camera or ignoring them with a stone cold face. 

Then there are photos and videos of him leaving nightclubs, completely drunk, falling straight into a car. Each time a different beautiful girl is on his side. I start to read about the crash as I open the door to the pub. The crash happened four months ago. Witnesses saw him leaving a bar seemingly upset and one even tried to hinder him from driving off. In the crash he broke his left leg in three spots and bruised his chest, nearly breaking his thorax. The media said he was lucky he got away with a few bruises and a broken leg. Looking at his car, it was a total loss, so understandably they said that. But for an athlete broken bones can cost their career. 

I step towards the register right next to the counter where I wave over the barkeeper. They play a hockey game on one of the many TVs. I try my very best not to look at the screen in fear of seeing my father pop up. Frank walks out the kitchen with my food in his hand, in the background someone screams at the TV, clearly drunk. Frank just huffs and I smile, giving him twenty bucks. He hands me ten back, which I refuse to take. He just stares at me and I have no other choice but to take it.

“You are too good to me, Frank”, I say, grabbing the boxes. He just nods in agreement and wants to go back to the kitchen until a waitress stops him, telling him one guest can’t pay and she doesn’t know what to do. Looking away from Frank's annoyed face, I follow her finger, pointing at the guy. 

This can’t be real.

Pulling out my phone again, I open my last tabs and see the guy on all these pictures right in front of me. 

With a whiskey glass in his hand. 

And by the way he sways there is definitely no water in it. 

Frank goes over to him and I follow, a few steps behind, so I’m able to hear their conversation. 

“See, I forgot my wallet. You got paypal or venmo? Or apple pay. Scratch that, they froze my apple pay”, he slurs, sitting straddle-legged on a barstool. Frank only points at a paper on the wall ‘Only Cash or Card or Police’.

“Oh come on dude. Do you know who I am? I will give you an autograph. It’s five times worth the bill. I will even smile for a picture.”

Arrogance is the first thing that comes to my mind. And arrogance doesn’t work on Frank. Just as he motions the barkeeper to call the police, I step in with a plan.

“I will pay for it”, they all turn their heads towards me.

“I say it all the time, I have the best fans, and as it seems the prettiest too!”, he exclaims, staring me up and down with a big smirk printed on his face. I ignore his eyes looming over my body and answer with the most sarcastic voice ever: “Your biggest.”  

Not looking at him or Frank, I spin around to the waitress. She doesn’t question my decision and just tells me the price. 160 bucks, I nearly puked on the spot. 

“What the hell did he drink?”, I ask her, flabbergasted.

“Wanted the best whiskey we had. Drank half a bottle.”

“Frank, I didn’t even know you sell expensive shit like that”, Frank just jerks his shoulders. 

“I wouldn’t really call that expensive”, Satoru chimes in and I side-eye him to shut up. He holds his hands up in defeat but still smirks at me. Ignoring him again, I focus back on Frank.

“Can you please do me a favor and write it on a tab. I promise you, you will get the money back as soon as you open the pub tomorrow.”

He looks between me and Satoru, who just lets me sort his misery out. Frank doesn’t look happy at all, but he usually never looks happy. 

“Please Frank”, I beg and Satoru hiccups: “Please Frank”, mimicking my voice. Does he not know how much trouble he is in? I ram my elbow lightly in his rips to make him shut up, smiling still at Frank. He looks at me like he wants to read what’s on my mind, but gives up trying to understand my reasoning and nods in agreement. 

“Thank you Frank, you really are too good to me!”

It’s the first time today Frank says something to me: “For once, I am”, turning to Satoru: “Be a man and thank her.”

And he does, taking my hand and kissing my knuckle while looking at me with his unbelievable blue eyes. 

I nearly puke again, but I can’t lie either. He got me blushing.

“Let’s get out of here”, I quickly mumble, grabbing his hand and dragging him outside. I stop walking as I’ve reached my car. Abruptly I let go of his hand. He’s a bit wobbly on his legs, but not entirely wasted. 

All I need is a picture of him in front of Franks pub and I will have proof you can’t trust bastards like him.

“So you are my biggest fan”, he sings, leaning against my car door. 

“No I lied, I just don’t like unnecessary trouble”, I chirp, taking my phone out of my pocket. He laughs wholeheartedly and for a second I thought he’s the most beautiful human I’ve ever seen.

Being completely enchanted by the way he laughs, I register way too late how he approaches me. I lose grip of the boxes I held with my left hand as he pushes me against my car. Before I can understand what is happening, he lifts me up with one arm underneath my ass, my back straight against my car window. 

And then his lips meet mine. Awfully rough and hungry for a first kiss. I taste the liquor on his tongue as he slips it past my teeth. 

My mind screams at me to stop this nonsense, but instead I sling my arms around his neck for support and to press his lips more against mine, digging my nails into his silky hair. 

It’s like I’m in trance. Everything is blank, there is only him. With his insane body, I definitely saw too many pictures of him without a shirt on and his gorgeous, gorgeous face. People would kill to be in my position.

Kill….

This word repeats in my head and only gets louder as I taste the liquor again. He breaks the kiss only to whisper in my ear: “Sadly I don’t have a condom with me, but my fingers will do the trick.”

I must have misheard him. There is no way..

Right in this second I feel his other hand enter the waistband of my leggings, his two fingers meeting my folds. 

It’s like someone threw a bucket of ice cold water over my head. I’m out of my hypnotic state and realize what the actually fuck I’m doing here. I push him away, making him trip over his own feet. He instantly lets go of me, but catches my arm right before I fall face first onto the pavement. Once I stand safely on my feet, I rip my arm out of his grip.

“Fuck, what was that for?”, he asks, holding his shoulder where I punched him. 

“Are you serious?!”, I scream, taking backwards steps away from him. 

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you for paying the bill”, he just argues, looking completely unbothered by this situation. I don’t even know what to answer. Why would he think that and even more so do it?

“First, I didn’t pay for your bill! It’s an open tab and you better make sure to pay him back! Second, why did you think I wanted to hook up with you?”

He strokes his shoulder: “To be honest I don’t know, usually that’s what every fangirl wants from me. And after I kissed you and you really got into it, I thought that’s where we were heading.” 

I want to protest, but I realize he’s right. I probably kissed him as needy as he kissed me. All I manage to say therefore is: “I just wanted a photo.”

He tilts his head amused to the side. 

“So you really are a fan!”, and closes the distance between us again. Taking my phone, he snaps a few pictures with his arm around my shoulders, smiling brightly in the camera while I can’t believe what is happening right now. 

He hands me my phone back and picks up the boxes for me. He pulls out a sharpie and scribbles his autograph on one box and hands them over to me as well.

“You have a pen on you but not a wallet”, is all I can say after a few seconds of silence. 

He snickers: “I usually don’t need my wallet. My signature gets me everything.”

“Not in this town”, I murmur, opening my car. 

“I figured”, he beams while helping me open my car door. 

“Sorry by the way for you know”, he mutters, scratching the back of his head.

“Please don’t mention it again. I want to forget it ever happened”, I say, putting the boxes on the passenger seat before closing it.  

“Ah, this hurts my ego!”, he states dramatically, holding his hands over his heart. 

I feel like Frank as I huff at him: “As if this would diminish your ego. Let’s be real here.”

“Of course, you are the first woman who ever rejected me.”

"Buhu, poor baby”, I utter, gaining a huge smile from him. I don't believe him as I’m ready to get into my car and drive off. 

I have everything I need. The pictures he took are perfect. His expression definitely looks drunk and Frank's pub is perfectly visible in the background. 

“Wait a second!”, before I could close my door, he stepped in between. 

“Thank you again, I will make sure Frank gets his money tomorrow.”

“You’re welcome”, I affirm, waiting for him to close the door. 

“What’s your name?”, he asks instead, still blocking the door with his large body. I just stare at him. Annoyed.

“My food gets cold”, is all I say as I pull the door handle towards me, giving him a wink to get away. 

“Jeez Louise, don’t do me like that!”

“You don’t care to know my name, so just spit it out! What else do you want?”

“A ride”, I knit my brows in disbelief: “to my hotel!  Not the kind of ride your dirty mind was thinking of!”

I pull the handle again, this time just to hurt him. 

“Aua, okay okay, sorry I will stop with these jokes!”

I look at him from under my lashes. God, I’m stupid beyond belief. I motion him to get in. Again giving me that big smile that makes me regret pushing him off me earlier, he walks around and takes a seat in my car. He tells me where he’s staying and I don’t even need GPS because it’s the resort I grew up in and the one I was actually planning on heading to. Driving out of the parking lot, I look over to him. He sits there, mansplaining with the food boxes on one of his thick thighs. Before I could even wish to switch places with the boxes, I remind myself who he is. An arrogant brick, who thinks he can get away with everything. And worst of all, he hasn’t learned anything from his crash. He still drinks. I can’t wait to show Masamichi all the evidence. I know it’s petty, but I don’t want him to ever put trust into ice hockey players particularly ones who drive under the influence.

He’s really chatty, telling me all the stuff his team probably put into the NDA Masamichi had to sign. He is an idiot, which is good for me but bad for him. He doesn’t have a clue about the owner of the rink he would be training in. Clearly he doesn’t care to know anyway. He has a whole team, who does everything for him. Why care to know about the small details. Again, arrogance. 

It seems like he doesn’t give a fuck about his career, no interest in whatsoever. 

I can’t relate to this mindset. In my competition days, I gave my all, looking up every detail. I was enamored in being perfect. 

And I was perfect until the very end.

“I still want to know your name.”

“Why do you care so much?”

“It’s dangerous to drive with a stranger. If I know your name, I will feel safer”, I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s grinning at me. I roll my eyes. 

“You weigh more than twice as much as me and don’t even get me started on our height difference. I think you could manage this stranger.”

I should be the one who’s afraid but weirdly enough I’m not.

“I could manage you in every way you want me to.”

I tilt my head towards him, giving him an irritated look: “Do you really want to walk?”

He shakes his head and gives me puppy eyes.

“One more joke like this and you’re out”, I mean but I sound way too unserious. He holds his hand against his forehead: “Aye, aye, captain.”

A few seconds fly by without a word being said. I enjoy silence, but with him, it feels weird. So I told him my name.

“What?”

I repeat it. 

“I heard you, but that’s a stripper's name.”

I punch him in his way too hard abs, more so hurting myself by doing so.

“Do I look like a stripper to you?”

“You certainly have the body for it.”

Not responding to his last sentence, I tell him that I’m a figure skater. I should have put ‘former’ in front of it, but in a way I’m afraid he would have asked me what I do now and I can’t answer that without feeling like a failure. It’s a stupid thought, but I can’t ignore it.

“Oh really, a cute little ice princess”, he snores. 

Of course, an ice hockey player like him wouldn’t take figure skating seriously. And I’m not arrogant enough to be mad at him for not knowing who I am and what I’ve accomplished. 

“Laugh all you want, you ice hockey players wouldn’t stand a chance on the ice without your protection gear. I’ve had harder wounds from being on the ice at the age of four than your entire team.”

“Woah princess, what’s up with your animosity towards ice hockey players? Did one dump you or something?”

“None of your concern.”

He starts to laugh again: “Come on. What did the big, bad ice hockey player do to you to make you hate all of us?”

I don’t care anymore, it’s not like he will remember it anyway. Gripping the steering wheel tight, I tell him: “My last name is Zenin.”

By the way he looks immediately at me, I can tell I don’t need to continue but I do it anyway: “I’m the daughter of, what is his nickname again?”

Satoru falls back into his seat and for a second he doesn’t do anything. I didn’t think he would be this shooked. It’s not a secret that he has a daughter in Idaho. I’m even mentioned in his Wikipedia article. And sadly he’s in mine too. 

“I fucking fingered coach Zenins daughter! I can’t fucking believe it! I have to tell my teammates!”, he shouts abruptly, taking his phone out. Thank God I’m a good driver so his scream didn’t startle me. 

“Don’t you dare! And you didn’t!”

“Princess, I can still smell you on my fingers, so -”, I push him against his shoulder before he continues. 

“Calm down, I won’t tell anyone. Pinky promise”, he stretches his arm towards me, giving me a chance to grab his pinky. I do it, just to get his arm out of my sight. 

However I feel his eyes on me for a good few seconds, giving me goosebumps all over.

“I guess I’m really drunk, because normally I would have noticed these eyes a hundred miles away. You have the same demolishing gleam in them.”

“I don’t look like him at all”, I say and I know I’m lying. He’s right. I have my fathers eyes. I’m a carbon copy of my mother but of course the most important feature of my face, my father had to ruin. Satoru is feeling my hostility against this theme and tries to cheer up the mood: “You’re right. If you would look like him, I can guarantee you, I wouldn’t have tried to fuck you.”

This is the first time I genuinely laugh at one of his jokes. I can tell he wants to say something stupid again, but he keeps it for himself, watching me giggle for a few more seconds. Once I calm down, he continues: “And I take it back.”

“What?”

“The sarcastic ‘cute little ice princess’. Imma be honest, my team and I watched you at the Olympics. And Imma be even more honest we prayed for you to fall. Nothing against you, it’s just we hate your dad and you winning would make him happy. Doesn’t matter, what I wanted to say is, we couldn’t take our eyes off you. You were breathtaking.”

I laugh again, partly because of this weird situation and not knowing how to take a compliment from him.

I’ve been praised my entire life. I know how to smile and what to say after receiving nice words, but giving him this phony act seems more than wrong. So I decided to just shortly acknowledge it and focus on something else: “Thank you, but just for your information my father couldn’t care less about me. He would have probably laughed with you guys if I had fallen.”

“He probably does care in his own way. He’s a prideful man with a passion for winners. And you are one.”

“You’re wrong.”

“I bet he would if I sent him a picture of you in a Rangers shirt on top of me.”

“You are disgusting. I hate that man but he’s still my father.” 

“What do you mean? You would be clearly on top of me so he could see the shirt and your face properly. It’s a good angle. I don't wanna know what your dirty mind was thinking again, but I’m down for whatever idea you prefer. The main point is, he will get mad either way.”, he looks up at me, grinning like a devil. 

Making sure no one is behind me on the street, I press the pedal to stop. We are in the middle of nowhere, only five more minutes away from the resort, but I couldn’t take it any longer. I glared over to him. I don’t even know what I feel. It feels like anger, but not about his nasty jokes. Anger that he thinks he knows more about my relationship with my father than me. Anger that he, who apparently can’t stand him, got to see him, talk to him. I shouldn’t feel upset about it. I’m fine with having no father in my life. Still tears begin to bubble up.

“Let me get this in your head. I could give everyone on your team a blowjob and he wouldn’t give a fuck. You know him as a coach, but I got to know him on a human level.”

He watches me, while readjusting the boxes on this lap. His movements look softer, more awake. He also lost the drunk gleam in his eyes.

“You’re right, I have no clue. I’m sorry”, he leans back into the seat again: “I always go overboard with things I do and say.”

“Like you did go overboard with the alcohol as you crashed your car?”, it is lousy, petty, even mean but he deserves it. At least that’s what I tell myself for being so vile. 

To my surprise he starts to chuckle.

“Yes, exactly like that.”

“You think it’s funny?”

“Fuck no, it’s not. But I don’t know how else to deal with it. It’s kind of ironic. I drank because of the pressure of being the best. I felt like I wasn’t allowed to make mistakes. My team and the fans put all their faith in me. I couldn’t make mistakes on ice, so I did them in my private life. Now I drink again to numb the pain in my leg, so I can be on ice again to fall right back into the pressure of being the best. Laughable, isn’t it?”

Deep down I curse myself for feeling a pinch of pity for him. I have never dealt with an addiction. I felt the pressure of being perfect, but I never felt the need to find an outlet other than excessive sport. I shouldn’t comment on it, but I often speak before I think.

“I know the pressure you’re talking about, I dealt with it too. But you know what you need to do with it? Keep it to yourself. Drink or take as many drugs as you like, but do it in your house. Don’t drag innocent people into your mess.”

Everything about me is icy; my voice, my glance. This conversation is intense for two people who literally just met. But he seems unaffected by it, which drives me nuts, because I’m clearly affected and I don’t want him to know that his shenanigans get under my skin.

It could probably only go this far because we share many similarities. We both are top athletes with pressure overflowing us. But I learned to let it all out in skating. Being honest with myself, I don’t know what it’s like to lose. I was always winning. If I’d fallen, I was right back up and on it again. I never had losing in my mind. I was only aiming for the stars.

“Oh princess, you are so wrong. I have a team to look after, you just have to look after yourself. If you fuck up, you lose for yourself. If I fuck up, my entire team loses. It’s not the same.”

“Then maybe you should get better teammates. Or are you just saying that, so you can shift the blame to someone else?”

“To be honest with you, I didn’t expect a passive-aggressive therapy session as I asked you for a ride. I had more something in mind like ending up at your place and taking a video of you while I fuck you from behind with a Devils shirt on.”

The realization hits me at this moment. For him this is all a game. He doesn’t care about what I think about him. 

I’m so naive.

I was thinking my words would have an effect on him. That he would really think about his actions and regret it. What was I thinking? 

I was thinking of giving him a second chance. I kind of liked him. I wanted to see something good in him. I was so blind. He’s pretty privilege in the worst form. He entranced me so much that I was ready to throw my morals out the window. 

He’s a stranger to me as much as I am to him. He probably planned on never seeing me again after fucking me. My opinion on him doesn’t mean anything to him. He just kept talking to me to get a tiny connection so I would sleep with him. He must think I’m crazy for getting so worked up while he’s chill.

But two can play this game. 

And I never lose.

It’s the first time since meeting me that he looks confused, because I didn’t immediately fire something back at him. Thinking back I should have let him get his ass busted by the police. Surely Masamichi would have heard about it and the problem would have been solved on its own, but I decided to intervene. Leading me to this mess of a situation. 

“What’s up with your weird obsession with my fathers team? Can’t play against them anymore, so now you have to use his daughter as an outlet for your frustration. Sad.”

I lean over to him and by the way he looks at me, he’s observing every little detail about me. So I give him a hint, a hint that will make him think he has won. Glancing to his eyes, lips, back to his eyes and lips again. The smirk that forms on his face screams triumph. It’s the same kind of smirk I saw in his picture right before he entered a game. His winner smile. He really thinks he won. 

Guess he had never played against someone so similar to himself. 

Too cocky to notice it. 

Didn’t his coaches teach him to never underestimate his opponents? 

Mine surely did, that’s why I will be winning.

My initial thought was, he would be laughing, in an arrogant, amused way, because for him everything is a game.

Instead he grabs me by my chin, forcing me to look at him. It hurts but in an exciting way. Keeping the play up I act like a deer in the headlight. Holding my breath and not getting a single word out, and to make it even better, I act like I have the hardest time looking in his eyes.

“I knew this would make you quiet for once. Now be a good little ice princess and let me fuck you.”

My lips meet his fast that I’ve anticipated. He doesn’t taste like liquor anymore, he tastes like himself. But I haven’t forgotten it. 

While he’s getting lost in our kisses, I open his seatbelt and throw the boxes in the back of my car and at this moment I know I've got him right where I want him. He’s putty in my hands. Clueless.

The realization will drive him nuts. 

Grabbing me by my hips, he pulls me over on his lap. It worked better than I would have expected. 

His huge hands wander all over me. From my neck, to my breasts down to my hips and ending up at my thighs, pulling me towards him without breaking the kiss. Learning quickly that not only his hands are huge against my body, as I press myself closer to him, I feel his likewise huge hard cock against my stomach. Before I could overthink it and let him win, he tells me, he’s tested and is negative. I tell him the same. One good thing about hooking up with an athlete. We get tested on the regular. I also add that I’m on birth control. 

“What a bummer, I would’ve loved nothing more than being the one who makes coach Zenin a grandpa.”

“Shut up, you’re killing the mood.”

“I killed it from the start and you’re still here, so what does that say about you?”

I don’t answer him, but I also don’t need to. He’s back on me again. Kissing along my jawline, before he whispers: “Who’s your daddy, Zenin?”

Weird fetish, especially after he talked about my father so much, but I go with it, moaning his name loud into his ear as he grabs my ass with one hand. He just murmurs ‘fuck’ as I can feel him get harder and harder. 

It takes my entire willpower to not give in. He’s the hottest man I have ever seen and is ready to give me the night of my life. Again others would kill to be in my position. 

I didn’t plan for him to rip my tights open, but he does. I palm his cock with my full hand and still don’t manage to grasp his entire length with it. Fumbling completely out of breath with his belt, I slip my hand finally inside his pants, pulling his cock out. I know, if I just take a peek at it, I will give in. 

Letting his head fall behind at the headrest, he whimpers: “Better than my wildest dreams.”

He grabs my waist to align me perfectly with his cock which he lets me guide myself onto. I do as he anticipates, dragging his tip from my clit, down between my already wet folds and just right as I want to push myself down on him, I intervene.

“Wait, it’s so uncomfortable here, my legs already hurt so much from all the training. Can we go to the back?”

He stares at me like I had just asked him to marry me. 

“Don’t you dare ever accuse me of killing the mood.”

But in the end, he agrees and kisses me again. Of course he does, right now he would do everything for me. 

I climb over to my seat again, telling him I need to unlock the car, so he can open the backseat door. He puts his dick back into his pants, but leaves the belt and zipper open. As I watched him doing so, I’m glad I had the willpower to not look down as I was sitting on his lap. I would have folded. 

The first time ever I regret winning.

As soon as he got out and closed the door, I pressed a button, actually locking the doors. Trying to open the back door and it didn’t work, he looked perplexed at me.

Then the realization hits him as I smile, showing him my middle finger that transforms into a wave goodbye. To my surprise he starts to laugh, throwing his head back and hiding his face behind his hands. Before I kick the gas pedal and leave him behind, he glances one last time at me. Throughout the entire time I spent with him, I had a hard time telling what his expressions meant, so I’m not sure what this one is, but I would describe it as sinister. Like the smile he has before winning. 

But I didn't dwell on it for too long, because in the end of it all I left him hard, horny and dumbfounded with open pants. 

This time his actions had consequences for him. 

1:0

I still love winning. 

So much so that I can’t wait for the rematch tomorrow.

Even though it will be kind of boring, because of course the only possible outcome is

2:0

[erenfox]

Y'all.

Episode 4.

It's the best piece of work Marvel has made after they made IW and Endgame.

spoiler alert 🚨

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lemme start off with our favourite Miss Jolly Rancher Unhinged Clock and Victorian-Era HWR Fangirl. I KNEW Ravonna had somehow helped HWR in building the TVA, but him erasing her memories was straight up evil.

Then we come to the absolutely gruesome deaths of Dox and the others. HOLY SHIT MISS JOLLY RANCHER IS AWFUL like she was enjoying every second of Dox and her hunters literally getting crushed to their deaths. B-15 was traumatised, to say the least and you can see on Ravonna and Brad's faces a hint of disgust. But Miss Minutes grinning like that - outright disturbing.

I can't get over OB and Victor fanboying over each other's work - it was so funny yet wholesome.

Now let's talk about Loki and Sylvie. As a diehard Sylki stan you know I am, my fangirling heart was overjoyed seeing these two lovesick ducks working together willingly! I mean, yea, they did have that rather awkward talk in Pie Land (mind you that's it's official name henceforth) but after that they worked together as teammates! Now I must say, I completely agree with Sylvie on snapping on Mobius, because, well, yeah, the multiverse is a bigger priority than pie and I legit don't get why tf antis hate on Sylvie for doing so. Like you hated her for not giving a damn abt the TVA + the multiverse, but now when she stood up to do so y'all are hating on her again?? Like?? Make up ur mind, smh.

Anyways, back to Sylki. Sylvie got stuck in the elevator and the way she and Loki worriedly called out each other's names was so soft! And the "You ok?" trope CAME BACK OMG! THAT PHRASE IS LITERALLY THE BACKBONE OF SYLKI! When I tell you my fangirling heart screamed with joy omg-

The the whole paradox scene which brought Ep 1 back in a circle. I absolutely loved the way our Loki realised what he had to do and went real slow to prune his past self just so that Past Loki could get a glimpse of Sylvie; which would then lead him to be more determined than ever to go look for her. And I quite literally died on Sylvie being confused af as to wtf she just witnessed.

Then there's the telephone scene. OH MY GOD it was literally OB all this time when fans were out here speculating it was Kang or someone lmao. Both Loki and Sylvie yelling simultaneously to turn the security thing off gives out so much Couple Vibes, I absolutely loved it AAHHAHAH-

AND. THE. BRAD. SCENE. OOF.

our friendly neighbourhood lovesick ducks teaming up to enchant Brad was just too good. Loki in his hot, creepy voice luring Brad into a dark area while Sylvie very swiftly just straight up grabbing his face from the back - pure horror. Absolutely loved it, 10/10. Tho I must say, to do execute elaborate scheme, these two must have done some detailed planning (=more Sylki moments we were robbed off).

BUT THAT ENDING DUCKING MURDERED ME BROO OMG

Can we talk abt Victor's redemption? Man had been portrayed as evil since Quantumania, and has been manipulated by both Ravonna and Miss Jolly Rancher, but at the end of the day, he was a sweetheart. Man fanboys OB and basically became besties with him and Casey, worked together to create the solution to a mess he most certainly didn't want to be a part of, and then himself stepped up to fix the Loom once and for all to prove to everyone (and not let Sylvie's choice of sparing him go to waste) that tho he contained HWR's DNA, he wasn't HWR - he was a far better person HWR could have ever been. Seeing him getting spaghettified was tragically heart-wrenching, man deserved so much better :(

BUT HOLY SHIT DID THAT ONE HECK OF A GODDAMN CLIFFHANGER LEFT ME SPEECHLESS LIKE WTF WAS THAT?? U can't just kill off a character who had redeemed himself, and then make our main character and his homies watch literally EVERYTHING THEY WORKED SO HARD FOR GET ANNIHILATED TO THE GROUND-

But we know our God of Mischief isn't dead, and so are his homies eheheh.

However the looks on everyone's face was tragic. Loki knew all was lost and had tears in his eyes. Sylvie looked like she had accepted defeat and her death. Mobius and OB were in denial, refusing to believe that Victor was dead. Casey and B-15 looked horrified, as they realised what was to come now upon them.

Tldr, this episode was an ABSOLUTE BANGER. IM READY TO CLAIM IT SUPERIOR THAN ENDGAME, come and fight me. Its a top cinematic piece, and the suspense to Ep 5 is eating me up.

Ig i should go and study for the 4 tests this week before ep 5 ;-;

[raccoon-eyed-rebel]

Common fucking indecency

Masterlist

A/N: Inspired by this little post right here...

Pairing: Mike (Hellraiser) x reader

Summary: Mike comes home from his exchange earlier than you expected, and you're real happy to see him.

Word count: 597

Warnings: Makeout sesh that probably should have taken place behind closed doors... Mentions of drinking.

@geralts-yenn @deandoesthingstome @ellethespaceunicorn @sillyrabbit81 @summersong69 @mayloma @livisss

Is the ground moving? No. It’s you. Maybe that last round of tequila shots was a bad idea. Exhibit A: you’re stumbling through the street like Bambi on ice, holding on to your boyfriend as best you can, praying you don’t drag him down with you.

He steadies you before dragging you along with him. You’ve almost made it to the bus stop. Early, even!

Mike admits he thought it was going to take you two longer to get there, but you were doing better than he thought you would. Now, you have time to kill...

It’s chilly out. Not surprising; it’s the middle of December, but still. Mike... where’s Mike? Mike is warm... As soon as you think it, his arms are around your waist, and you slip your hands into his jacket. Better.

You’re happy he’s here – he shouldn’t be here. His exchange officially doesn’t end until next week, but he scheduled his presentations early so he could surprise you – and that he did. You almost didn’t believe it when he showed up in the club – you almost punched ‘the rando grabbing your hips’ in the face, in fact. Of course your friends forgave your leaving early... You have better things to do. You have Mikey to do.

Ten minutes till the bus comes... You look up at Mike, finding him smiling down at you. His eyes haven’t left you for so much as a second since you were reunited. God, he’s so pretty... did you just say that out loud?

“Shit, you’re so wasted,” he laughs. He’s not wrong, but who is he to judge? He’s about as far from sober as you can get, as well, so...

“Pff,” you huff, “so are you.” His hands move from your waist to your hips and he pulls you closer.

“I know.” He slowly leans in. You don’t respond to his move just yet, a sliver of responsibility that’s somehow survived your alcoholic assault on your brain screaming at you that you won’t be able to stop once you get this going. And do you listen to that part of you like a responsible adult? No! Duh!

Mike’s lips touch yours and it’s game over for both of you. Within seconds your bottom lip is between his teeth, his hands wriggle their way into your back pockets and you’re sliding your hands into his shirt. Mike crushes his lips against yours hard, grinding his hips into you and letting out moans a little too freely. You mold your body to his so you can feel as much of him as possible. You’ve fucking missed him. You’ve missed fucking him. Just... Mikey. You need Mikey. More and more and more and then some more of him.

This has to look disgusting, and the only redeeming factor for anyone who sees this is that – at this time – they’re probably drunk too and they might just cut you some slack. Mike is sloppy and wild, wrestling his tongue past your lips and eagerly exploring your mouth, and the worst part is that you let him, just like you let him squeeze your ass through your jeans. He keeps pulling you closer, so eagerly you can’t even be proud he has a massive boner right now – you’ve never seen him this needy... and that’s saying something.

At some point, your hands find their way to his neck, and his hair, and you grab him almost violently, not willing to ever let him go again. Alas.

“Hey, lovebirds,” an unfamiliar voice calls out next to you, “are you two getting on?”

[dballzposting]

here’s how Yamgeta can still #win

Vegeta having gay sex with Yamucha is a one-time temporary thing but honestly if you were crazy enough then I could see how it could have longevity. Romance, even.

Like ...

Yamucha is an older bachelor with a swanky cabin and he KNOWS better. He knows better than to get attached. If he felt he and Vegeta were going too far with this then he would remove himself and be sure to remind Vegeta of his familial obligations. Yamucha has played this game before and he knows the risks; he’s not interested in having this get out of hand.

Furthermore, he, like, sort of hates Vegeta. He’ll never forgive him for anything but he has chilled enough to leave it as water under the bridge. He doesn’t care enough to still be MAD about anything really, but he WOULD be the first to jump in on a Vegeta Roast Session, and he wouldn’t suffer in the slightest if he never ever saw Vegeta again. He’ll concede that Vegeta really has seemed to change,. and he’s done much to redeem himself, but that doesn’t mean that anyone is obliged to forgive him for anything, and Yamucha, in the most honorable way, certainly hasn’t it.

Yamucha is a middle aged bachelor, yknow, he wears those yellow suits, yknow, and once he has a drink or two he can absolutely stand to talk to Vegeta to his face, and the two have even built up a platform of repartee over the years - something sarcastic and witty and dreadful, and it’s taken time for Vegeta to lower his guard enough to play this sluttenous game of talk, and for Yamucha to build in vegeta’s eyes a reputation of conversational fortitude. 

So, like, yknow, Yamucha is just Chill, yknow? He’s going with the flow. He’s playing the game with Vegeta because he can. He’s not, like, playing 4d chess or anything, he’s not conspiring, not planning his next move - he’s just going where his instincts take him. And it takes time, yknow, but eventually Vegeta thinks so little of Yamucha’s ability and so highly of his efforts that he finds himself at Yamucha’s swanky cabin past midnight, yknow? Like it’s nothing.

And so yknow, Ymaucha will have gay sex with Vegeta, sure, absolutely. It’s a bit funny, a bit cheeky, a bit sarcastic, and altogether so FRANK and forthright. Sleeves rolled up, hand of cards flipped and visible. 

And so yeah Yamucha will do all of that. And he’ll put his pants on and walk vegeta to the door after. “Thanks for visiting, really,” yknow. “Give Bulma my regards.” Y’know. 

and that’s yamgeta, yknow?

BUT .. TAKE MY HAND .. CONSIDER SOMETHING BEYOND .. 

what is Vegeta’s role in his family unit, even. I definitely feel like Vegeta spends a lot of time alone. He trains his son, he sleeps next to his wife, and he is always present for dinner. And most of the time he just, like, fucks off. 

And everyone seems okay with that, they forgive him for that. He doesn’t spend a lot of time with his family but they’re thankful for the time he does grant them (seen on an early episode of Super where he could not STAND being on a cruise with them so he flew away at the end, and Bulma & Trunks thanked him for the time he gave rather than getting mad or sad at him.)

So, like, Vegeta could be having a secret life with Yamucha and no one would even know..? He’s just gone that often anyway. Training and sleeping and stuff. Shitting in the mountains. Going shoe shopping. Playing Minesweeper. ETC. So it wouldn’t even make a difference to his family.

Furthermore - what sort of affection does he give them anyway? Specifically his wife - how much affection do you think she gets from him, and how much does she expect? The thing about Bulma is that ..

Well okay, sidebar:

CHARACTER CORNER: BULMA

In the original dragon ball, in the first arch, Bulma wanted nothing more than to have a cute boyfriend. She couldn’t control herself around cute guys. So she was going to use the dragon balls to WISH for a boyfriend. 

...Implying that she couldn't find one herself.

Now hold on. Bulma is very pretty. She makes damn sure that you’re aware of that at every junction. And she’s rich. Why couldn’t she get a boyftiend?

It’s not that she felt that she couldn’t attract a cute boy .. it’s that she felt that she couldn’t attract a NICE boy. 

Many characters have expressed their attraction to her throughout the series - most of whom have been CREEPS, WEIRDOS, PERVERTS, ETC, and I recall a scene where she was being literally CHASED and HUNTED by two Red Ribbon Army goons in helicopters. 

She IS a desirable catch. And she has seen the worst in men because of it.

So, she was to wish for a cute and NICE boyfriend. Ok. Cool.

And then she met Yamucha and didn’t have to make that wish after all. OKAY. COOL. 

BUT .. WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THAT?

I’LL TELL YOU WHAT. She wasn’t content with him.

She had him cut his hair because long hair wasn’t fashionable on a boy.

And she became irreconcilably IRATE with him for all the attention from girls that he indirectly garnered. It wasn’t even his fault, and he paid them no attention - but Bulma just HATED that he was desired.

She never even kissed him. 

She never even kissed him! So why did she want a boyfriend?

My dear: young Bulma, sweet 16, wanted a cute & nice boyfriend more than anything - but she’d been hunted and oggled and grabbed at for her looks, and she could not place her trust in her nice & cute boyfriend enough to actually interact with him physically. It’s a sensitive subject for her. That makes sense.

HOWEVER - there’s also the perspective that actually, it’s not a sensitive subject for her. She’s just Bulma, she’s rude and selfish and conceited and - she just wanted the SYMBOL of a boyfriend, she wanted to be a cute girl with a cute boy only SHE could oggle!

She wanted a TROPHY boyfriend! And she couldn’t have that when everyone was staring at and vying for her trophy. 

MY DEAR - This is why Vegeta works out so wonderfully for her.

He’s a trophy alright - unfathomably strong, ambitious, determined, etc. In his time, of a royal status. A tough catch, valuable in his scarcity.

and NO ONE ELSE WANTS HIM - Bulma can have him all to herself. 

FURTHERMORE - Vegeta is not a sexually-geared man, he’s barely even an AFFECTIONATE man - he’ll never request her kisses or body. She is free to give those only as she pleases, when she pleases. And, presumably, he’ll have her when she wants to give herself to him, becasue, well - what’s he to say? He’s virtuous and shy in this regard - what’s he to say?

Vegeta BARELY EVEN BUGS HER - she is FREE to live her life, work on her projects, live her passions, etc all without the prying attention of another. She’s free to be independent, which I know suits her. She needs a lot of time to herself to think and work and develop on ideas. And Vegeta needs a lot of time alone to think and train and focus. So it all works out splendidly really.

Vegeta doesn’t even know the first thing about her work. He can’t comprehend it. He can’t fathom it. Bulma is free to have her niche - and free to have her trophy husband, and feel secure that he is only hers, and he will be back at the end of the day because he has no where else to go, and he will scare off all the hoes with his unbecoming glower and unrelatable background.

But note that she doesn’t really need THAT much attention from him. She needs someone who makes her feel important, becasue she is important, and she can have that with Vegeta - she was his first, and he had never known soft affection like the stuff she showed him. She can kiss him on the cheek and see him blush and grow flustered, at any time. He’s sensitive in that regard - and that’s all she wants out of him: that when they are together, he’s affected by her, and that she is his everything.

In practice they don’t even spend that much time together.

Okay so anyway. What was my point.

My point was that if you wanted to craft a Yamgeta scenario with some longevity then here’s how you do it:

(^ music to read this post to.)

Vegeta, in theory, has time for Yamucha.

Yamucha definitely has time for him.

And Yamucha knows better, and he would freely warn Vegeta of the risk of their continued engagement (and if there is one word to describe their communication, it is FRANK - nothing is being unsaid, everything is being toyed with). But, also, he is not actually in a situation where he could push someone away that hard.

Yamucha is a lonely dude. He’s been even lonelier ever since Pu’ar went away to Shapeshifting University. He’s all alone in that swanky cabin, all alone with his The Romantics CD and his Caddyshack (1980) DVD. He keeps trying to grow his hair out but he keeps getting beguilded into letting the beautiful foxes who live in the woods cut it. He’s at the point by now where he can sense when he’s getting tricked by a fox but he’s so in want of a woman that he’ll let them do anything to him if they appear as a beautiful lady. And he fucking learns nothing from it.

(this is what I’m referencing every time i mention yamucha getting his head shaved by foxes BTW:

https://www.japanpowered.com/folklore-and-urban-legends/how-a-man-was-bewitched-and-had-his-head-shaved-by-the-foxes )

So, like, if Vegeta keeps coming around .. Yamucha will honestly let him. He’ll warn him and they’ll go back and forth in their meta-sarcastic witty way and Yamucha will tempt him with certain drinks or topics and he’ll watch Vegeta go along with it.

And it feels a little bit like ... Like Vegeta is responding to these bids for affection/attention. He’ll go along with it, he’ll bite back, he’ll leave with will and return with his head held high - the whole point, their whole dynamic from the start has been that Vegeta is better than this and is why he won’t be conned/tricked, nevermind the fact that his behavior would be less incriminating if he were to defer to it. So if Vegeta keeps bringing his self-serving autonomous self BACK to Yamucha’s cabin / to see him at Guy’s Night / to specifically find him in a conversation during a Z Team get-together -- WELL -- it feels a little bit like Yamucha is receiving some much-appreciated and meaningful attention.

He knows better - and he doesn’t want to be a homewrecker - but Vegeta has become fun to talk to, and he is finding increasing enjoyment in their interactions. He’ll always hate who Vegeta was, and he’ll never forgive him, but sometimes, at the most fearless and raunchy points, it’s delightfully funny to think that this is the same guy who pulled all that monstrous shit years ago.

Yamucha knows better, but ever since Tien told him that he wasn’t gonna marry him (SO SAD..!!!!), Yamucha is not in any position to snuff meaningful attention, no matter whom it’s from. 

DO YOU SEE MY POINT? Ok.

But why would Vegeta keep going back? Oh my god I don’t fcking know. Stop asking.

Vegeta

Vegeta is sort of afraid of sex I don’t know why he would ahve gay sex with Yamucha ... WELL it’s not that he’s afraid of sex. He’s not. He’s not afraid of anything. He’s not afriad. Please don’t put in the newspapers that he got afraid

He’s nhot afriad of sex. But he does only have sex with his wife a certain way. She has to be gentle with him. And that’s the way it was for a long time. That’s how she first serenaded and seduced him. He had never known tenderness - he had never known physical touch to be so .. gentle and careful. And he didnt know what to do about it. And that’s how it went down.

And Bulma likes to be the important person in people’s lives so that worked out fine for a long time, that she could have him melt. But, like. She’s a wild and energetic woman. Sometimes she wants to introduce some more FIRE into the bedroom. But often times he won’t really have it. He feels like, what’s the point ..

Like he could have a passionate fiery physical encounter with any of the damn fighters in his life. That’s not why he has a wife. FURTHERMORE - He has it wired into his brain so deeply to always BE GENTLE with Bulma because she’s a fragile human !! She wants him to get on top and make it sing and he’s like ... ERHM.... I’m sorry ... Could you ... be more specific ...?

And she wants him to just GO FOR IT to just FEEL IT but he’s afraid of going TOO wild so he just asks her to just lead instead please.

This is humiliating for him - like, must we speak of it..? Can’t we just make love in the moonlight? Must we articulate it with our voices..? Give it words..?

If she got rough with him then I think that it would scare him. If she grabbed his junk allof a sudden then I think that he would scream a little bit and flinch. IT’S JUST NOT HOW THEY NORMALLY DO THINGS YKNOW...?

LIIKE IDK .. If he’s not hardy and disciplined then no one is. BUT, LIKE. WHAT DO YOU WANT FROM HIM? YOU HAVE TWO OPTIONS:

1. have him lay you with a Face of Stone.. sort of tense the whole time .. defending against any sudden or rough movements ... there to serve .. ETC 

2. you make love TO HIM and have him really be there present & in the moment & this means not grabbing his fucking shit when he’s not fucking expecting it becasue that’s not what you’re supposed to do anyway and that’;s not where it;’s supposed to fucking go and your hands are for caressing him softly not yanking on his fucking shit like you’re shifting a car or starting a lawnmower BULMA

So yeah he just has it as a personal rule that he’;s not allowed to be rough with his wife becasue even if he trusts his disciplined self to not err, it’s still Rude to be rough with a lady, much less his wife who yells at / pussywhips him so well ...

Additionally, he doesn’t really respond well to her coming at him with more wild energy either. I think that fire and passion and sauce are one thing, and he does like her strength of character so, I doubt that he would dislike her fire, but - she can’t be, like, doing anything unorthodox. Passionate LOVEMAKING is one thing. DEPRAVED BEHAVIOR is another. And there’s a point where the skin and sweat and breath is just, like, any other day to him ... like ... i’m sorry ... am i making love to my sweet wife, or am I training in the gravity chamber? Am I absolutely ripping the skin off of it in the gravity chamber alone, or am I rotten enough that I’m having my wife do it for me? good grief. 

(^another song for listening and reading.)

PARAGRAPHS LIFTED FROM a “fanfic” on my phone where I had Vegeta lying awake in bed at night pondering the nature of sex because I wanted to develop on my head canon for how he thinks about it evidently: (i did impulsively post it once so if it looks familiar that’s why):

When his Bulma had first taken him in and shown him how to love, it was not something that he knew to expect, but it did not twist his head much either. He never knew that it could be the way it was because he had never thought of it; but after it had happened, it made sense by virtue of having transpired.

Afterwards, Vegeta had fled to the mountains, where he had stood at the tops and stared at the sky. One afternoon he had stared into the depth of the blizzard until it gradually lifted and gave way to the silhouette of the evening sun.

He had thought and thought and felt and thought, and decided that he wasn’t meant to understand all of the details of the liminal experience of Bulma’s bedroom. It was over now, and he could move on.

Bulma herself had a vulgar tongue. This is what Vegeta could not believe as natural: the things she would reference or suggest to his virgin ears. She would say things to get a rise out of him and then laugh as his face flushed.

Still, Vegeta had crossed his arms to the comments from his Bulma and from the rest of the filthy mouths on the planet: he knew that they were all vulgar, and that he was not.

. . .

He turns his head to gaze at his wife in the dark. He’s attracted to his wife, of course he is, ever since she had jabbed a finger into his chest and told him what to do. But he does not respond to her body the way even she does.

A great deal of Bulma’s self-esteem comes from the state of her physical assets - all of which she frequently insists are top-notch. Vegeta has always believed her, but he never knew how to corroborate her, because it’s not like he has seen hoards of naked women to compare her to, and it’s not like he would know what to look for.

There have been times where Bulma has grown frustrated with him because he was not giving her the answer that she wanted. She was wanting to hear something like, “you’re right Bulma, your boobs are so cute and lovely and perfect, and your butt is tight too;” but when Vegeta tasks himself to be truthful and vocal, the best he can squeak out is “the shapes of your body are important to me.”

She can only hear that romantic dribble so much before she wants him to tell her explicitly that her tits are better than anyone else’s.

Mostly, though, Bulma grows frustrated with him for other reasons, and Vegeta has never learned a way to speak with her that worked for him.

The state of Bulma’s body is very important to him, as is the feel of her skin on his, and the warm imprint of her silhouette on his vision, and the music of her voice, and the strands of her hair that somehow always end up on the shower walls. But Vegeta struggles to first articulate and then verbalize such tender sentiments, and he finds it impermissibly uncouth to compensate for his silence with raunchy smatterings. He would never speak to his wife that way. And he would never lie.

. . .

And his least favorite activities are the ones where his wife wants to make a game out of sex, where they play with each other and put things in weird holes. The first time she had tried to put her mouth on his member, he had gone soft in offense.

He loved his wife, and he loved to love her, and if she had never found him, he would likely find himself still strong, virile, ambitious - and sexless.

Ok. So as you can see, Vgeta is kind of an um uh. What’s the word. He’s .. frumpy? He’s vanilla. MOREOVER: He’d rather spar than make love but if he’s making love then he better do it right. Otherwise it’s besmirching to the other person, if it does not feel like something that he could not do alone. 

So. Awsome. Epic. 

WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH HIS HAVING GAY SEX WITH YAMUCHA /?!?1/

Um. I don’t know. This post has gone off the fucking rails. 

I think I’m going to completely contradict myself here. ARE YOU READY? Forget everything you just read. ARE YOU READY?

What if ... Vegeta LIKES to have gay sex with Yamucha BECASU it’s a bit more ... forceful? He can really put his hands on him. And it’s a NO STRINGS ATTACHED encounter - Yamucha & Veegag have no obligation to each other, they don’t love each other, theyre both men, it’s easy-peasy. 

And Vegeta can really put his hands on him & feel the scars of a warrior. He can really feel the weight.

Hey. Listen, man. Let’s try to salvage this post. Together. For the Yamgeta Nation. 

I feel like Vegeta & Yamucha could hang out and it’s not a big deal. Like their talk & general interactions are WRY, or witty, or playful; always frank, often sparse.

But, what have I just said to you. Maybe we can salvage this post after all. Tie it all together. What did I just say to you?

Vegeta .. is ... a bit of a serious lover. He’s not a floozy. He’s not a whore. He’s not confident or playful or GENEROUS with ANY affection or attention AT ALL. 

If he spent a night with Yamucha and he enjoyed it then he would not be rushing to pay him his disrespects. He may refuse Yamucha’s cigar offering post-event, he may admit that he feels sick, he may hurry to leave - but at Yamucha’s knowing and sagely “Yeah, that’ll do that to you... You better get going then. I won’t take offense,” vegeta stops.

and he’d be like “..could you?”

“What?”

“Could you take offense?”

“...I just said that I wouldn’t.”

“But you could?”

“...I guess?”

“...I’ll stay then.”

And vegeta would sit back down and stay a while.

And they’d sit in silence. Until Yamucha says “It’s a dangerous game yknow.”

“How do you figure?”

“Staying.”

and then there’s another pause, this one much more tense. And only then would Vegeta hurry to leave, wrench his coat on, ETC.

But that’s just, like, a first encounter. If he kept coming around - then he’d grow more and more comfortable with Yamucha. More playful. More sarcastic and saucy. He’d play the game just as well.

He’s not always coming around to have gay sex with Yamucha, he’s coming around to hear the ways that Yamucha will try to convince him this time. It doesn’t always work. Vegeta can’t be played, remember, and it’s all very up-front. 

Vegeta will come around becasue it’s something to do, Yamucha is someone new to talk with.

Sometimes it’s boring and Vegeta leaves.

Sometimes Vegeta gets bored of training alone and feels iced out of his own domestic affairs, so he goes to Yamcuha’s cabin, where yamucha is always trying to cook his own meal, and he’s always down for putting on Caddyshack and falling asleep because he’s kind of, like, 45 yrs old or something. 

You know everyone always acts like Vegeta can’t cook. But he can cook. How do you think he lived during his youth, traveling from planet to planet? He learned the best ways to cook meat, how to not burn out the fat grease, and what to do with the remainder. He traveled the cosmos and learned of the best spices and seasonings - and he may feel inclined to list them off and their planet of origin as he stands in yamucha’s cabin, throwing stuff inside of the wood stove.

Vegeta has known culinary delights in his time, by his own hand. The fact that there is black smoke coming out of Yamucha’s wood stove right now is not important. 

IDK.

I just have a lot of thoughts evidently.

Vegeta knows how love goes by now. He knows the patterns, he knows what’s permissible.

He knows to not take his gloves off lest to hold his wife or his children.

But after a while, he may take them off with Yamcuha, becasue he’s secure enough, in all of their frankness, that there is a suspension of legitimacy here that facilitates organic and of-the-moment interaction.

He knows that the loving and tender hold that a man takes with his wife is secret, sacred, and must not be desecrated by being repeated in another’s bed.

But in all of the frankness therein, Yamucha’s cabin has become a location of secret safeness, where anything goes, and nothing is too odd to face directly.

Vegeta knows what things mean - but, at the same time, he’s not necessarily experienced in .. what to show to whom. He’s only ever had one lover. And the cover of this cabin is secure. Surely, you can just .. behave as a lover would?

Yamucha, meanwhile, knows the drill, and is careful about what he shows to whom. And he’d just be so stunned and confused if someone like Vegeta was willing to cuddle up with him, to hug him or kiss him off of the lips, or smile at him with his eyes, or cook dinner with him, or laugh with him, or listen to him talk.

IDK. Maybe Vegeta could turn on the radio and listen to all those love songs sung by wantful women and emotional men and come to the realization that somehow, oddly enough, maybe those words are something that his sensitively specific heart understands more than he ever thought it could. Maybe it was that simple all along. Maybe this social shit and romance shit is easy. Maybe he just drinks bourbon at Yamucha’s cabin and then leaves long enough that he’s content to see him again when he does.

Do you understand ... have I put an image in your head yet...

Maybe it’s fun. Maybe it’s sweet. Maybe it’s senseless and boring and they keep their distance for a while. Maybe it’s senseless and freeing and vegeta keeps coming around.

LISTEN:

Their interactions have always been so frank. They’ve always put things into words, or obvious gestures, or risky smirks that convey the ambiguity of their affairs.

It’s always been .. up-front.

And there’s a point when you hear someone speak frankly enough that .. you hear enough. That you’re able to assume that you know them.

There’s a point where the words turn to silent gestures, and the silent gestures turn to genuine actions, requests and bids and - just, the thoughtless, selfish movements of a self-actualized animal. No words, but a world of communication, to and from, in and out. 

And, there’s a point in that where you may wind up being .. presumptuous.

If Yamucha told Vegeta that certain behaviors would be inappropriately romantic between them, then vegeta would be like, UM WELL DUH. Obviously. Not that I’d want to be romantic with YOU. I’m barely romantic with my wife. Only scarcely and in secret. Not that it’s any of your damn business. 

BUT .. as long as Yamucha doesnt say that .. Vegeta would just continue interacting with him physically. Because it’a sort of nice innit? As long as it’s not verbalized, it’s connotationless, and he’s been frank enough with Yamucha thus far that he thinks that they both understand the need to be true and odd and unexplained, and in fact, that there is frankness and comprehension in their silence.

Additionally: When Vegeta and Bulma talk, it tends to end in an argument a lot. They communicate better in silence. This is an intimacy that Vegeta is accustomed to.

And again. Yamucha is in no position to turn this sort of attention down.

So he says nothing of it.

He knows better. He lets Vegeta keep coming around. He offers him drink, smoke, time, and conversation. 

Vegeta isn’t keen on compromising himself, so he doesn’t often drink or smoke. Though he’s come a long way, he still isn’t the best conversationalist if there’s not a central string where he and yamucha can continuously poke fun at each other; but there’s a point where it’s not about the repartee anymore. Yamucha is very aware of when Vegeta starts to let him speak of more boring, personal, or even domestic things. It strikes him as odd, but he realizes that it’s not even about the substance of their words anymore.

Vegeta is just there for the atmosphere.

THANKS FOR READING THE POST

[mythologyfolklore]

Liù'ěr Míhóu joins the jttw gang, or: How to redeem an all-hearing celestial monkey with a superiority complex and a seriously bad attitude

(A/N: TW: gender dysphoria [let me know in the comments, if I misrepresented it], mention of past SA and forced pregnancy)

Chapter Eleven: Yet another revelation

.

It had taken a few hours for Tripitaka to snap out of his stupor.

But once he had recovered, the monk was just as willing as the rest to accept Sūn Wùhuàn's true gender.

“I've never seen such a thing before. And it kind of fascinates me”, he admitted. “It's kind of messed up, but … it shouldn't be too hard to grasp. Your soul is male, but for some reason was incarnated into a female body. Did I get that right?”

“… I suppose you could say that.”

“That sounds like a painful existence.”

Sūn Wùhuàn sighed: “It is … at least to me. There are others like me, who cope with their body just fine. And then there are people like me, who can't stand theirs at all. I hate this … meat cage.” He paused. Then, as if deciding there would be no harm in it, he admitted: “I envy you all. Must be nice to look masculine enough to be accepted as such. And not be sickened by your own body.”

Tripitaka didn't know what to say.

He strongly believed in showing one's true self. But he had figured out by now, that telling his newest disciple to just embrace who he was, would be neither helpful nor appropriate in this situation. Not when Wùhuàn's true self was hurting like this.

But he had to say or do something!

“Uhm … Sūn Wùhuàn? May I ask you something?”

The Macaque shrugged. “Sure.”

“Why do you not focus on your soul, rather than the body that makes you so upset?”

Wùhuàn scowled: “You slaphead! Like that's easy! Every time I look at myself, every time I hear my own voice, every time these remind me of their existence-”, he pointed at his breasts with obvious disgust, “-and don't even get me started about the periods!”

Tripitaka's eyes widened. “Monkeys get those too?!”

The Six-Eared Macaque nodded. “Yeah, most of us do, including macaques like me and Wùkōng.”

“It's true!”, Pilgrim piped up. “Just as bad as humans too. Cramps, mood swings and everything. I got some basic medical knowledge just to help all female-bodied monkeys back home.”

Home? Oh right … Flowerfruit Mountain.

For some reason Tripitaka didn't know, the thought, that his first disciple had someone and something to return to, left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Meanwhile Pilgrim turned to Wùhuàn: “Speaking of which. Do we have to take precautions for your heat?”

Now Tripitaka's other disciples glanced over too, all with a look of concern.

Wùhuàn was deathly pale and had an expression of pure terror on his face.

“Shit!”, he whispered.

Tripitaka spoke back up: “What's wrong? What is a heat?”

Pilgrim explained: “Most animals and animalistic demons have a mating season, when they couple and reproduce. During that time period, female-bodied animals and demons go into heat. Their bodies feel like they're burning up from the inside, their behaviour and vocal pitch change and they give off a strong smell.”

“And that smell is irresistible for most male-bodied demons”, added Wùjìng. “They pretty much lose their mind and revert to basic instinct. No thoughts, just the want to breed.”

Tripitaka's face scrunched up. “That's disgusting!”

The Quicksand Demon sighed: “For most female-bodied demons it's nothing more than an inconvenience, since they have someone they trust to take care of them during that time period. But for those who don't have a trusted caretaker, it's Diyu on Earth.” He asked Wùhuàn: “Do you have someone?”

The Six-Eared Macaque shook his head and all six ears fell flat on his head. “No. normally, before that time comes, I go to hide somewhere, make preparations and tough it out, until my heat is over.”

“That's unhealthy”, Wùkōng told him.

“I know that!”, Wùhuàn snapped. “But what am I supposed to do?! If I don't find a perfect hiding place, some bastard will find me, use me as their cum dumpster and knock me up! I don't want that! I never wanted that!”

He faced away from the other pilgrims and sank his head.

The others remained silent, to give the Macaque time to compose himself.

But instead of calming down, the white monkey started shaking like a leaf.

Alright, enough is enough!, Tripitaka decided.

He approached the distressed demon and crouched down (ignoring his aching back) next to him.

In light of the sensitivity of the question he was about to ask, the monk lowered his voice to the point where only Wùhuàn would be able to hear.

“Wùhuàn?”, he whispered, making the macaque's six ears twitch. “Has it happened to you?”

Wùhuàn met the monk's gaze with a pained expression.

That was answer enough.

So Tripitaka opened his arms. “May I give you a hug?”

The Six-Eared Macaque swayed his head from side to side. He was considering it.

Eventually he mumbled: “'Kay.”

.

---

.

Tripitaka doesn't fully understand, but he's really trying here.

[ilikekidsshows]

Gabenath and Felila.

Rate Your OTP Game

Crème de la crème | Excellent Taste | A Worthy Sailing Vessal | A fine ship it is | The Finest Crack in the Den | Unorthodox yet not Unwelcome | It is a good | Overrated | It is acceptable | Forgive me but I am not familiar with the source material | I would not consider myself a fan | Just because you are contrarian doesnt make it good | What dump did you find this? | In the lowest pits of the Abyss is where your taste was forged.

Unpopular opinion time: I liked Nathalie better when she was a villain motivated by her simping for the winner of The Worst Guy Ever Award. She was a villain, it was obvious she was a villain and she actually kinda leaned into it. The evil smirks and smug attitude while being aloof to almost everything that wasn't about Gabriel worked. She was a great contrast to Gabriel's more bombastic villainy, and their relationship was a brilliant dark parallel to the Love Square. They were codependent in every aspect, like a warning of what the Love Square could become (and did become once the writers decided to romanticize codependency), and they used their powers for evil. What's not to like?

This new "I totally no longer support Gabriel even though I won't work against him because that would instantly end the story because I know too much" angle is really bad. The writers want Nathalie to be redeemable now for no real reason, considering how she is contributing jack shit to the plot, but I just find her utterly uninteresting and irredeemable, not because she's done anything that absolutely heinous, but simply because she has done NOTHING to undo her past evil actions. You don't get to redeem a character just because you make them feel bad for a bit.

Crème de la crème | Excellent Taste | A Worthy Sailing Vessal | A fine ship it is | The Finest Crack in the Den | Unorthodox yet not Unwelcome | It is a good | Overrated | It is acceptable | Forgive me but I am not familiar with the source material | I would not consider myself a fan | Just because you are contrarian doesnt make it good | What dump did you find this? | In the lowest pits of the Abyss is where your taste was forged.

I've already implied that if I got a chance to "fix" Félix, I'd make him an ally to Lila and not Gabriel, this is me ouright saying it; Félix would have been better if he was kept as a petty jackass and eventually teamed up with Lila with some suitably unhealthy romantic undertones to underscore how much better the heroes' relationship is.

They had the parallels. Adrien could see through Lila and defang her attempt to act against her grudge towards Marinette in 'Ladybug', while Marinette saw through Félix's scheme against Adrien without knowing Félix was a thing in 'Félix'. Adrien protects Marinette from Lila and Marinette protects Adrien from Félix. Why wasn't this a thing? Because Félix acts like he's been replaced by at least two different identical Sentimonsters with different personalities and motivations by this point.

[rae-and-mezo]

Tell me some more about Iris<3

I've fallen back into it and am currently reviving a couple of my ocs for Hl

Skskjsijduj GLADLY

her profile is still in the works but like eh

First of all, I'm going to explain this sheet, what she and these characters have in common.

1. Evelyn Hugo!

Evelyn does not give a shit who's in her way. If she wants something, she will get it. That's all there is too it. Evelyn asks Monique something along the lines of "when are you going to learn to grab life by the balls and take what you want from it?" She also is very well aware she isn't a great person and lives up to it. Never once does she deny it, and prefers the spotlight to be on her. Iris is exactly this.

2. Annabeth Chase

All Annabeth has ever wanted was to be seen and loved. She wants the world to notice her. In the second series Annabeth talks about how she never will be more than the brains, and if that's what it takes to be loved, then that's okay. Iris feels this way too. She feels like she will never be more than the adrenaline junkie of their little group, and that's fine. Also, Iris could relate to Annabeth because like, what are healthy coping skills??

3. Rose Dawson

I know this is an odd choice. But here's the thing. Iris is literally based off of Rose. Even her appearance! Rose is a spitfire, a loaded pistol. Her rage especially is what makes me think of Iris. The way she punches the guy in the face when he won't listen to her, and when she blows the smoke in her mother's face when told not to smoke just screams Iris. And also, I can just picture the scene where she smokes the guys cigarette and finishes his beer. She's batshit crazy y'know? And fearless. Which are two things Sebastian will tell you about Iris lol.

4. Emily Prentiss

Emily is infamously unafraid to get what she wants. She's harsh, unapologetic, and impulsive. The woman lived an entire life undercover in Europe! I think Iris could be this person as well, given the circumstances. Like Emily, Iris does not have any problem taking down the bad guy to save who she wants. Also, Iris is not afraid to take the blame or jump in for someone in need. And they're both heavily Lana del Rey coded-

5. Beth Dutton

Crazy. Beth's role throughout the show is the crazy, brutal, harsh and nasty woman unafraid of anything. Knuckles are always black and blue, and her words hurt just as much as her punches do. Iris and Beth both are not afraid to say things so disgustingly horrible. They don't think about consequences. Their tempers fly off the handle. Iris's jealous streak is just as bad as Beth's as well.

6. Rowena

This one is harder to explain. Rowena is very...evil. she has redeeming qualities of course but her role in the show is to be irritatingly evil. She's also very powerful. Iris isn't evil per se but she's unapologetic in her flaws.

Headcanons

Born to Die- Paradise Edition, would be the soundtrack to her life if I'm being honest. Carmen is her theme song.

She's very elegant but her words are v i l e. Like she swears too much for someone modern, let alone a Victorian lady.

You will hardly catch her out of her high heels

Her patronus is a tiger

She loves the grotesque. Catch her trying to get a better view of a dead bird, admiring a painting of a dead man. She just thinks the horrifying has a certain beauty.

Straight A (E?) Student and the teachers just love her. However, most of the students don't. She's too bitchy lol.

Does not hold grudges oddly enough. Like she's willing to put aside the past for everyone but her family.

She's a halfblood, but she was adopted. So all her siblings are muggles.

She's a descendent of Gryffindor!

Despite her gift with dueling and transfiguration, she can't do shit outside of that. The only reason she is passing anything else is because Sebastian gives her his notes.

Sebastian is a little scared of her. She likes that.