#i personally named them The Guardian because why not

[robinsegghead]

Danny's Daycare Part 17

Masterlist

Incoming video call from The-Next-Bruce-Wayne…

Incoming video call from The-Next-Bruce-Wayne…

“Hello?”

“Tucker! Just the man I needed to talk to!”

Tucker sighed. He could tell just by the way Danny said his name- they way he said ‘just the man I needed to talk to’ that he was up to something. “What’s up man?”

Danny smiled sheepishly. “Well, uh, first of all did you get the job?” He squinted and looked behind Tucker, probably noting the stacks of moving boxes lined up against the wall. 

Scoffing, Tucker gave him a Look. “Dude, it’s me- of course I got the job. Sam and I have been packing as fast as possible so we can get out there within the month, sooner if she has her way.” He loved his girlfriend but when she wanted something done she was on a warpath until it got done and Tucker… he just wasn’t built like that.

Smiling, Danny glanced off screen for a moment before returning his attention to the screen.

“How are the boys?” Tucker asked, raising an eyebrow knowingly. Danny could argue that he wasn’t their dad all he wanted, and he’d respect that and not call them his kids, but it didn’t make it true.

The sheepish smile returned. “Uh well, that’s one part of what I was calling to talk to you about. I don’t want to overload you while you’re moving, but uh- well… how long would it take for you to make them like, legally mine?”

Tucker’s eyes blew wide. Holy shit- “For real?”

“Miguel and Santi said I was dad-shaped.” He confirmed like it explained anything. 

“You cried didn’t you?”

His best friend crossed his arms. “Maybe I did, maybe I didn’t. We talked about it last night and they’d like to-” Danny choked, looking away from the camera but he couldn’t fool Tucker. He was clearly getting emotional. “They’d like to get their name changed to Nightingale as soon as possible.”

“Holy shit man- that’s amazing!” He hadn’t believed Dani when she’d called the group to inform them that Danny’s recent deistractions had been because he’d taken two boys in and was acting as their guardian. They were twenty-two! No way Danny had decided to just take in a couple of teens and be their dad. But then he’d met them at the birthday party and he could tell they were everything to Danny.

From the way he talked about them to the way he looked at them when he thought they wouldn’t notice, Danny loved those kids with his whole heart. It had been interesting to witness in person and despite Danny’s argument that he wasn’t their dad, Tucker knew he’d be getting this call in the near future. Which is why he already had the paperwork drawn up and faked with everything in place, he essentially just had to click a button to make it happen.

Danny was grinning from ear to ear. “Yeah it’s… I’m… happy they trust me.”

“All right, two more Nightingales coming right up. Now, you wanna tell me why you said we were taking down the GIW then turned off your phone?” 

Yesterday had been a normal day for Tucker and Sam, each working on packing one room while blaring music through the partially empty apartment. The night before they’d all been panicking about Danny’s daycare getting attacked and all the news that came with it, but knowing Danny, he’d gotten into more trouble after the fact and forgot to check his phone before passing out for the night. So they didn’t worry too much.

Just when Sam was saying them should try calling him again they’d gotten the text.

Crime-Fighting, Night-Stalking Vigilantes

The-Next-Bruce-Wayne: Get in losers we’re going to take down the GIW

The-Next-Bruce-Wayne changed the group chat name from ‘Crime-Fighting, Night-stalking Vigilantes’ to ‘Operation Take Down the Plastics’

“What the fuck.” Sam breathed.

Tucker started typing immediately. “You’re seeing this, right?”

Cassandra is typing…

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue is typing…

The Midwest Princess is typing…

Chaos: Fucking finally

TooFine: What brought this on?

Cassandra: Hell yeah, I’ve been waiting to be a part of a GIW mess around for years!

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue: Danny answer your phone

The-Next-Gotham-Rogue: Daniel J Nightingale answer. Your. phone.

The Midwest Princess: Oooh someone’s in trouble~

After two more calls went to voicemail, Sam and Tucker had given up on both reaching Danny and packing and had opted for cuddling on the couch with wine and theorizing about what could have caused Danny’s 180.

“After the scarecrow attack… everyone reached out.” Danny twisted his fingers. “I mean- everyone. People from Amity, numbers I didn’t recognize… one from Wisconsin…” Danny didn’t elaborate on that, Tucker knew that was Vlad and that Danny hadn’t read the messages. “Everyone knows where I am. That puts the boys in danger. So. We’re taking down the GIW. I’ve already asked Red Hood to get Batman and the Justice League to look into them and the Anti-Ecto-Acts and he seemed pretty sure that they had no idea any of this was going on.”

“Wait wait wait- go back- the Red Hood? Danny? How did you manage to get into contact with a crime lord and why haven’t I been informed?” Tucker couldn’t believe this- Danny had been so insistent that he wanted nothing to do with the Gotham vigilantes and here he was name dropping one of them like they were casual besties.

Shrugging, Danny glanced off camera again and frowned. “Uh- I met him a while back and now he drops by once in a while to check in.”

“Danny.”

“I accidentally killed the Joker and Red Hood caught me but he wanted the fucker dead too so he’s been dropping off food and shit at my place as a thank you and he also knows I’ve died and he’s met Phantom.”

“Danny- wha- what the fuck man! Holy fucking Christ!” Tucker keeled over, laughing. “You- you’re telling me that you… KILLED someone, and Red Hood is now feeding you as compensation? And you told him you’re dead?” 

The man on the other end of the line sighed heavily, his eye bags speaking volumes through his silence. “I was trying to help- sometimes I just say things and then I can’t take them back, I don’t know.”

“How- HOW does telling the Red Fucking Hood that you’re dead, help?”

Danny looked off camera again, clearly distracted. “I accidentally mentioned being a teenage vigilante and he had questions. I was all ‘if you take off your helmet’ AKA ‘reveal your identity’ I’ll tell you what happened. But the fucker wheres a domino mask UNDER the helmet! So he took it off and I’m not a liar so I had to tell him. I didn’t tell him everything though. He doesn’t know I’m Phantom. Or that I’m the ghost king. Or anything about the Fentons.”

Tucker could feel his usual laid back demeanor cracking under the weight of Danny’s big mouth. “Oh my fucking god. Okay, putting that aside. You need me to make the boys legally yours and what else?”

“If it’s cool, I’ll portal over later today to get a copy of your files on the GIW. Whenever Hood gets the chance to speak with Batman and hopefully the JL, he’s gonna summon Phantom again and I’d like to have all the information ready for them. Now I’ve actually gotta get going- I think the boys friend wants to hang out? I’m not sure. I’ll talk to you soon, Tuck. Love ya.”

Right, of course, why not. Tucker collapsed back onto the couch and groaned loudly. 

“What’re you grumbling about?” Sam asked, walking through the front door with groceries on either arm.

“Danny.”

She gave him a knowing look. “Help me put this stuff away and you can tell me all about what the fuck Danny did this time.”

~~~~~

“Wait wait wait hold on! I can’t understand you when you’re both talking at the same time.” Danny waved his hands around to silence the boys. “Miguel,” He turned to the older boy. “What’s going on?” 

Miguel shrugged. “Damian asked us over for dinner but he said you should come to ‘cause ‘is dad wanted ta meet you or somethin’.”

“And he said he has a dog and a cat and a cow! I want to see their cow, Danny can we go! Please?” Santi begged, reminding Danny that he was just a thirteen year old kid. “An’ he said he had a buncha brothers and sisters and we could all hang out- can we go?”

Danny thought about the paperwork Tucker would be emailing soon confirming the boys adoption, the drive he needed to pick up to give to the bats, the council meeting he needed to schedule to discuss the GIW, the work he needed to make sure was getting done on the daycare, and he sighed.

“What time?”

“YES!” Santi shot up and started running around in victory.

Miguel checked his phone. “Damian said dinner’s ‘round six-thirty but we could come over at six to meet everyone.”

That was only two hours to prepare. Danny rubbed his eyes. “Okay. I have some work to do before we leave, send me their address so I can figure out when we should leave.” He stood up and ran a hand through his hair. “Make sure Curiosity’s fed and let me know if you need anything, I’ll be in my study at my place.”

It was a few moments later when Miguel sent him the address and, after looking it up, Danny dropped his head to his desk. 

“Only you, Danny.” He groaned into the desk and processed the information that seemed obvious but hadn’t been for him apparently. Damian fucking Wayne. He’d been casually conversing with Damian Wayne, asking favors of him, not knowing who he was, and now he’d agreed to go to dinner at his house. House. Danny scoffed. His fucking manor. 

On the bright side, Duke would probably be there. It wasn’t like Danny was worried about them all being rich assholes or something, nice people like Duke and Damian didn’t come from rich assholes, but he wasn’t mentally prepared to have dinner at Wayne Manor with Bruce fucking Wayne.

Putting aside the work he’d planned on doing, Danny decided to take the rest of the time given to him, to prepare. Starting with a nap. 

Thank Ancients his sleep had been coming easier recently.

~~~~~~~

“Who did you say was coming to dinner again, Dami?” Dick asked, lounging on a couch in the main sitting room. 

Damian looked up from his sketchbook. “You remember the people we ran into at the store a few weeks ago?” Dick nodded. “Them. Nightingale is an acquaintance of mine and he is now a person of interest as well.”

“What do you mean?” Dick sat up.

“I forgot you were not here last night.” Damian tsked, setting down his charcoal and cleaning his hands off with a dirty rag. “Todd brought father a case. A very serious case that father isn’t too pleased about. He’s meeting with the Justice League tomorrow to discuss it, but seeing as Nightingale was specifically mentioned by Phantom, he is now a person of interest.”

Dick blinked. “Phantom?”

Sighing loudly, Damian picked up his sketchbooks and charcoal and stood up. “Read the report, Grayson.”

“Wait! We’re back to Grayson?” His older brother groaned as Damian exited the room with a hidden smirk on his face.

~~~~~~

Distantly, you could hear a young man screaming. “Who the FUCK ARE MIGUEL AND SANTIAGO NIGHTINGALE!?”

~~~~~~

Driving to Wayne manor was wild. And Danny said that as a half dead half alive ghost king who’d been cut open by his own parents and ended up opening a daycare without any plans. So you know he meant it. 

The driveway was long and winding, they had to introduce themselves at the gate so the butler could let them in, and when the pulled up the building towered over them. Now, technically, Danny did own a keep. It was certainly bigger than the manor, but that was a ghost thing. He’d never seen a place so big in the living world.

(And despite his abundant wealth, Danny didn’t care much for his large keep or deep pockets except for what they could do for others.)

Parking in front of the stairs- yes there were actual stairs leading up to this double door front entrance- Danny turned off the car and turned to the boys. “Okay, be on your best behavior- I don’t know this fruitloop so if you want to leave at any time, let me know. But also, have fun.”

Miguel rolled his eyes but Santi was the one who spoke up. “Fruitloop?”

“Crazy rich person.” Danny interpreted

Miguel frowned. “Aren’t you technically-”

“OH KAY!” Danny shouted, not wanting to be reminded that he technically fell under the same category as Vlad Masters and Bruce Wayne. “Let’s go!”

He hadn’t told the boys to dress up, he certainly hadn’t dressed up himself, and they’d all ended up wearing what was most comfortable. Danny at least put on jeans instead of sweatpants and threw on a cardigan instead of his usual ratty sweatshirt. He’d panicked after his nap took longer than it was meant to and barely had the time to shower and throw on some clothes before they needed to leave so he hadn’t had the chance to really think about his clothes.

Miguel fiddled with his bracelets as they approached the door and Danny noted that the boy was already anxious about the evening. “Hey, just try to have a good time. Seriously, we can leave whenever one of us gets tired, yeah?” The boy nodded silently, shifting a tiny bit closer as Danny rang the doorbell.

Opening the front door was exactly the kind of guy he expected. Dressed up, bald, with perfect posture, definitely a rich butler. He heard the footsteps of a couple more people approaching but- wait, wasn’t that the guy from-

“Alfred?” Danny said before he could stop himself. 

The butler offered a small smile. “Mister Danny, it’s a pleasure to see you again. I was unaware that you were the Mister Nightingale that Master Damian informed us would be visiting tonight. Please, do come in.” He opened the door wider, gesturing for them all to step into the foyer.

“Nightingale.” Damian greeted as he stepped into the foyer. “I was unaware you were acquainted with Pennyworth.” It was a statement, but the way he said it made Danny feel like he was being interrogated. 

Before he could respond, Dick stepped in right behind Damian. “Danny! A pleasure to see you again! I didn’t know Damian had befriended your kids.”

“They’re-” Danny started to refute Dick’s claim, out of habit, before stopping himself suddenly. All eyes were on him as he paused and glanced at Miguel who nodded subtly not quite meeting Danny’s eyes. “Yes, Damian’s been helping the boys learn how to take care of their cat. I will say I didn’t realize who either of you were.” He chuckled awkwardly.

Damian tipped his head to one side. “You… did not know?”

Shrugging, Danny took note of the shoe rack behind him and the boys and the lack of shoes on Dick and Damian, and gestured for the boys to take them off. “I’m not from Gotham, I mean, sure I’ve heard of you guys, but I didn’t really make the connection that you were Waynes.” He did his best to keep it casual, knowing well how annoying it could become when people talked to you like you were famous. He was a king after all, some people respected his status.

“Perhaps you should show our guests a more suitable spot to have this conversation?” Alfred offered with a quirk of his eyebrow.

Dick smiled sheepishly. “Sorry Alf, come on, most of the others are chilling in the living room.” 

Following Dick and Damian, Danny wondered how many others there would be. Growing up he thought he was really good with names and faces but after moving away from the small town he’d lived in his entire life and eventually taking up residence in Gotham, he realized he wasn’t any good at them at all. It had taken a long time to memorize his regular kids and parents’ names and who went with who-

“Well how was I supposed to know that? No one ever tells me anything!” A distinctly female voice shouted from the room they were entering. “Besides, who woulda thought Dami would have friends-” She cut off the moment Dick walked into the room and cleared his throat. “Oh come on- you know it’s true!”

Danny frowned to himself. Damian seemed like a pretty nice kid to him. 

“Tt. Brown. I’ll have you know I have plenty of friends. Nightingale, Miguel, Santiago, this is-”

“Wait a minute! They get first names but I’m still brown!” The girl shouted. Her hand movements and tone of voice felt familiar and Danny couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d seen her somewhere before.

“Everybody calm down!” Dick sighed loudly. “Danny, Miguel, Santiago, this is Steph, next to her is Cass,” the girl waved with a small smile. “And- where’s Tim? I thought he’d be here.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m here, Dick.” A young man grumbled, face buried in his phone. “Was working on something, are our guests- Danny?” 

Okay, once was a coincidence, twice? “Tim?” What were the chances that he already knew half of this family from previous chance encounters around the city? Because he knew Duke, Tim, Dick, Damian, and Alfred, and there couldn’t be that many more after Steph and Cass. 

“Oh my god why does no one tell me anything.” Tim breathed.

Steph shouted and pointed. “HA! Tim agrees with me! Maybe if the demon brat had told us who he was having over this wouldn’t have happened!”

“Uh… I’m not  sure how that would have helped but it’s good to see you again Tim. And nice to meet you, Stepp, Cass. I’m Danny, these are-” He hesitated, still getting used to things. “Miguel and Santiago, my boys. Thanks for having us over.”

The room grew silent and all of the Waynes seemed to be exchanging looks until finally Tim let out a sentence that was genuinely worrying. “Oh my god you’re as bad as Bruce.”

Oh goddamnit. He was a fruitloop.

The room burst into laughter, even Santi and Miguel seemed to understand the joke, Danny just rubbed a hand across his brow and shook his head. Hoping to change the subject, he brought up the only topic he could think of. “Where’s Duke? He’s the only one I knew would actually be here.”

“He was working on some stuff last I checked, he’ll be here soon for dinner though- huh.” Dick paused. “Dami, did you happen to mention to Duke who our company was for dinner?”

Damian tsked. “I did not think it imperative to alert every member of this household who would be coming over for dinner. They are my guests.”

“Yes well, have yourself and your guests wash up, dinner is almost ready.” Alfred said, making Danny and the boys jump. How the hell was he so quiet? The man moved more like a ninja than a butler.

Once Damian had showed them to the nearest bathroom and they’d all washed their hands, they were shown to the dining room. It was… crazy. A crystal chandelier hung above the center of the room, the table was long enough to hold ten people on each side, the chairs were ornate, the floor was immaculate, and Danny was reminded once again that he was inside a multi-billionaire’s manor.

Damian, possibly sensing the boys’ anxiety, offered them seats beside himself and Danny found himself somehow sitting to the left and one down from the head of the table. Tim sat beside him (thank Ancients there would be a buffer between him and Bruce Wayne), Dick sat across from Tim, and Steph and Cass sat across from the boys (leaving one chair between them and Dick for some reason).

“Sorry I’m late!” A familiar voice called, footsteps rushing into the room. “Still not as late as Ja- oh! Uh, hi, Danny!” Duke smiled, confused, and looked around at his family.

Danny offered a smile in return. “Ah, and Damian’s lack of communication strikes again.” He jokes.

“It was not a lack of communication, Nightingale.” Damian corrects. “I simply didn’t see a point in alerting Thomas to your dinner invitation.”

“Riiiight… not like ‘Thomas’ and I are acquainted or anything.” Danny jokes as Duke takes the spot directly across from Damian beside Cass. “Sorry to surprise you at home, I didn’t realize I’d be dropping in on my employee until after I’d already agreed to come over.”

Duke shook his head. “No, don't worry about it! I just didn’t expect it!”

“Ah, Mr. Nightingale.” A deep and buttery smooth voice greeted from the other side of the room. Danny looked up to see Bruce Wayne approaching the table. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Damian’s told me quite a bit about you.”

“Sounds fake.” Danny blurted out before realizing he probably shouldn’t treat every fruitloop he met the way he treated Vlad. “Uh,” Bruce’s kids burst out in laughter. “Sorry, I didn’t.” He cleared his throat. “It’s nice to meet you too, mr. Wayne.”

Taking his seat, Bruce smiled. “Please, just Bruce is fine.”

“Then you can call me Danny. And this is Miguel and Santiago.” He pointed to the boys who were in a surprisingly deep conversation with Damian about what quantified a hero vs. vigilante vs. anti-hero. He prayed to the ancients the boys wouldn’t bring up any of the ghost stuff he’d told them about.

“Well we’re happy to have you over. It’s not often Damian brings friends home.” Bruce flashed another smile and Danny couldn’t help but feel they weren’t as genuine as they seemed. Don’t get him wrong, Bruce seemed nice enough for a fruitloop, but he definitely didn’t feel like the kind of person who was really this smiley.

On top of that, ever since they’d arrived Danny had been sensing more and more ectoplasm, both throughout the house and on the people living in it. He’d never noticed before (whether that was because everything seemed less ectoplasm-y outside of the realms he’d been living in for the last five years, or because he wasn’t observant, he didn’t know) but Damian had a strong ectoplasm signature. Tim and Dick had a bit of one too, but Bruce? Bruce had been around death no question.

Bruce looked around the table and frowned. “I thought Jay was coming by tonight?” He looked between his kids and the obviously open spot across from Danny and beside Dick. “Has anyone heard from-”

“All right all right- I’m here, don't get your panties in a twist!”  Just as a man Danny recognized waltzed into the room, Miguel let out a groan. Jason looked at the kid for a moment before taking his seat. “Yeah yeah kid, good to see you too.”

Miguel crossed his arms. “Din’t say it was good ta seeya.” 

Danny was still trying to process what was happening. So- there were nine ‘Waynes’ including Alfred, and he’d known six of them before even walking into the manor tonight. Holy shit- how did he not know all of these people were Waynes and how did he always get into these situations?

“Jason, you know our guests?” Bruce asked, surprise lacing his words.

Jason shrugged, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms. “A guy’s gotta have friends.” 

He was pretty sure Jason said it more to evade Bruce’s questions than anything else, but it was still nice to hear that Jason counted Danny as a friend even if they’d barely had the chance to get to know each other.

“Jason!” Santi gasped. “I finished that book you gave me- did you know it’s a series?” He asked excitedly.

Grinning, the man nodded. “Got the rest of the books if you’d like to borrow them too. But you’ve gotta write an essay about the book first and then we’ll talk about it in depth and then you can pick a different book.”

Santi nodded excitedly before turning back to Miguel and elbowing him. “Be nice.” He hissed.

Miguel eyed Jason warily, neither seemed to know what to say to the other.

Nobody in the Wayne family seemed to know what to say either- was it really so surprising that Jason was friends with them? While it had been a surprise every time someone Danny knew walked in the room, it hadn’t been quite as shocking as it seemed it was for Jason to know them. Maybe he was a bit of a loner?

“Babs can’t make it tonight.” Dick finally interjected. 

Bruce nodded, taking a sip of water. “She had that dinner with her dad, right?”

Dick nodded. “And Wally sends his love but he’s got a work thing.”

Alfred walked into the room and began dishing the first course and oh holy shit Danny didn’t know which fucking fork and spoon to use for everything. Ancients he hated fruitloops and their fruitloopy ways.

“So Danny,” Bruce started. Danny caught Jason rolling his eyes subtly. “Terrible what happened to your daycare, I hope none of the children were hurt?”

Danny nodded, thanking whoever was watching over him from having to pick a spoon for the soup. “Yeah Scarecrow and his goons did some damage but nobody was hurt thankfully. Duke was a great help keeping the kids safe.” He nodded to the boy who smiled sheepishly. “We usually have really good security but I’m going to have my guy look it over since, obviously, Scarecrow shouldn’t have been able to get in.”

“Yes, I’m sure that was quite the surprise-”

“A surprise? Come one B! The man tackled the scarecrow no hesitation! I don’t think he was that surprised!” Steph joked.

Danny blinked. He hadn’t realized the video those teens recorded had started so early. He could have sworn the teens didn’t start recording until after Phantom had appeared. “Ah, well, just had to make sure I held him off until someone showed up. Luckily Phantom was there so-”

“Phantom?” Bruce cut in.

“Just some vigilante who helped out. Not really one of Gotham’s I don’t think. But he took care of the fear gas and the goons and whatnot so Duke and I could watch over the kids.”

“Yeah, and then Red Hood showed up and kicked their asses!” Miguel added enthusiastically.

“Language.” Alfred and Danny scolded at the same time, everyone freezing to look between the two before laughing.

Miguel pouted and muttered something about how cool Red Hood had been while glaring at Jason.

Holding up his hands defensively, Jason smirked. “Hey you don’t gotta convince me kid, Red Hood’s my favorite too.”

Of course he’s your favorite, he’s your boyfriend. Danny thought forlornly.

Miguel untensed slightly. “Just because you got good taste in heroes don’t mean I like ya all the sudden.”

Jason glanced at Danny, smirk intensifying, before looking back. “Whatever you say kid.”

Ancients why was Jason looking at him like that? Danny rolled up the sleeves of his cardigan- why was it so hot in here? Were rich people just always running the heat or something? 

The conversation turned away from the daycare and onto other things. Steph and Cass seemed to be in a debate with Duke about the best flavor waffle- obviously it was chocolate chip- while the boys and Damian continued their previous discussion.

“How did you two meet?” Bruce asked, pointing his knife between Danny and Jason.

Jason sscowled. “The way that normal people meet, old man.” 

“Well we met at a clothing store with Damian.” Dick offered. “I’ve gotta say Danny, I haven’t seen Damian make a friend so easily before, how’d you do it?”

Danny shrugged. “I dunno, he’s a good kid.” Tim eyed him in shock. “He helped me set up my apartment for some cats I found and then I started sending him cat pics. He did the same, the boys wanted a cat, Dami was willing to teach them, now they’re friends.”

Dick choked. 

“Did you just call him Dami?” Tim asked cautiously, looking at the end of the table to see if the boy had heard.

Nodding, Danny leaned to see Damian. “Hey Dami?”

The boy pinched his eyes closed. “Yes? Nightingale?” He sighed.

Turning back to Dick, Bruce, and Tim who all gave him completely shocked looks, he smirked. “Nothing, never mind.”

“Tt.” 

“He’s a sweet kid.” Danny shrugged, finally just taking a wild guess and using one of the spoons to start eating the soup. While three of the Waynes stared at him like he was crazy and one stared at him like he was crazy but in a good way, Danny enjoyed every bite of the best bowl of soup he’d ever had.

Tim stared in awe. “You’re a madman.”

Danny snickered. “I have been told that on occasion. I don’t think this is all that crazy though.” He glanced down the table, making sure Damian wasn’t listening before continuing. “We hit it off right away, he’s a good kid, with a lot of knowledge, and was kind enough to help me.” Starting to grow uncomfortable with the stares he was getting, Danny changed the subject. “Enough about me, Tim, how're your boyfriends?”

Clearly knowing what Danny was doing but not caring, Tim rolled his eyes and started on some rant about how his boyfriend Kon who’d apparently made some bet about who could plan the better date for their other boyfriend Bernard. Tim pretended to be annoyed but it was obvious he loved them and their antics and Danny couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to date multiple people.

For no specific reason.

Just.

Science.

Before he knew it they’d been served the main dish which was amazing if not a bit familiar for some reason. Something about the sauce- taking a good look at what he was eating, Danny made the connection. Vindaloo. Hood brought them vindaloo once and after mentioning how much they’d liked it, he brought it again. Hood had never repeated a dish except the vindaloo. But why would they taste identical? Hood must have his own recipe for the food.

“Alf, you gotta help me out here-” Jason cut into his thoughts. “I can never get the meat as tender as you do! I’ve tried tenderizing it, marinating it, cooking it longer- what’s your secret!” 

Alfred gave Jason a knowing smile and, without a word, turned and left. While Jason pouted Danny finally connected the dots. It was either one of two answers.

One, Hood wasn’t actually cooking the food, Jason was, and Hood was just the delivery boy. Or two, Jason and Hood cooked together so Hood’s recipe came from him. Either way, it more than confirmed his theory that Hood and Jason were dating- Jason literally just said that Red Hood was his favorite vigilante!

Danny wished he could say the food stopped tasting good once he realized, but it didn’t. It tasted even better than Hood’s (Jason’s?), something Danny didn’t think possible.

“So Danny, where are you from?” Dick asked, finally sensing the lull in the conversation.

Swallowing the bite he’d been chewing for way too long, Danny wiped his mouth with the napkin. “A small town in Illinois you probably haven’t heard of. But I haven’t been there in years, traveled a bit, ended up here. Honestly, Gotham’s more like home than the town I grew up in ever was.” 

Dick frowned but Bruce is the one who responded. “Why is that?”

Danny shrugged. “My parents were the town crazies so making friends was difficult.”

Please stop asking about Jack and Maddie.

Of course luck wouldn’t be in his favor. 

“Why were they the village crazies?” Tim asked analytically.

“Father,” Damian cut in. “If we may be excused, I’d like to show Miguel and Santiago the barn.”

Bruce nodded. “Of course, you boys be careful out there.” After the boys had excused themselves, Bruce turned back to Danny. “I’m sorry, you were saying?” 

Something told Danny that Bruce really wanted to know about his parents. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt like he was being watched. He obviously was, there were many pairs of eyes on him, but it was more than that. He felt like the people watching him were analyzing him, peering into his soul, pulling back his layers and layers of defenses and digging around for what they could find inside.

It felt like back in his parents basement when he first woke up and there were cuffs around his wrists and ankles and a gag in his mouth and his parents screamed at him about killing their son. It felt like when they cut into him for the first time and rooted around in his chest, pushing and pulling with no care for what they moved or damaged, searching, searching, searching, for his core. It felt like when they turned him over to the GIW for further ‘study’ and experimentation and he learned what it felt like to lose a limb and an organ and an eye and-

“Danny?”

Seven pairs of eyes stared at him in concern. “Uh, sorry.” Danny unclenched his hand from the tablecloth and forced an uncomfortable chuckle. “Jack and Maddie were ectobiologists- they studied ghosts, the paranormal, that kind of thing. Makes people think you’re crazy and- to be fair- they were so.” Danny ended with a pathetic shrug and took a sip of water to avoid speaking anymore.

“They studied ghosts?” Steph asked, leaning over Cass to get closer to the conversation. “What was that like?”

Clearing his throat, Danny tried not to feel like he was being interrogated. “It made for an interesting childhood.” He didn’t like the way Cass was looking at him- he thought she could definitely read his body language better than he wanted. “Anyways, I certainly didn’t want to do what they did and eventually decided to move here and open a daycare.” Please let them latch onto the daycare, please-

“How’d they feel about that?” Bruce asked. Oh course the parent in the room would ask how his parents felt about his decision. Jason looked like he was about to say something but Danny was getting annoyed with this line of questioning.

A bit tired of the interrogation, Danny shrugged defiantly. “They didn’t know. I don’t exactly speak to them anymore and haven’t spoken to them since I turned eighteen.”

“Why not?” Dick asked, promptly shutting up when Jason shoved an elbow in his ribs.

“All right, well I think that’s enough interrogating our guest. What would Alfred say?” He asked, looking each Wayne in the eye. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Eat your vindaloo and shut the hell up.” Turning back to Danny, he smiled. “So Danny, what’s been your favorite part of Gotham so far?”

Oh thank Ancients for Jason Todd.

Prev. Next

[bookishdaze]

Noah's Ark for Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes

You know how the story of Caesar is inspired by Moses? Freeing his people and taking them to the promised lands?

Well, to continue this trend of using events and figures from the Bible as inspiration, Noa from Kingdom is based on Noah. They're not subtle about it at all.

Our main ape is named Noa, he saves his people from a flood, and there's a very big boat in the background for good measure. In case it wasn't obvious enough!

However, I believe we are not done with the similarities to Noah from the Bible. The story of Caesar as Moses happened in both Rise and War, actually. So if the similarities to Noah will continue in this new trilogy...what will that look like? Time to speculate!

First things first...we need an Ark, right? What will that look like? For this post and speculation, I will use other movies for inspiration!

Note: I'm not saying these movies were purposefully based on Noah's Ark. This is mostly for ideas and inspiration.

I've thought of bunkers, planes, and boats.

Bunker as the Ark

Okay, this idea came to me after watching Greenland with Gerard Butler. In Greenland, we follow John who has to take his family to a bunker in Greenland because an asteroid is going to hit earth that will wipe out all life. I know a bunker is not a big method of transportation like a boat, but here's why it could fit!

The flood from the Bible was a world-ending event that wiped out everything, right? Well, bunkers are built to withstand world-ending events! Maybe there's a big danger like a virus or bomb that the apes will need to escape from by hunkering down in a bunker.

Even in Kingdom, the apes have to climb deep within the bunker/vault in order to save themselves from the flood. Maybe foreshadowing that a bunker will save them from another "flood" event in the future?

In Greenland, the humans leave the bunker once the dust has settled after nine months of living underground. One of the first things they see are birds, a sign that there is still life on earth. This reminds me of how Noah used birds to see if the waters from the flood had receded enough for it to be safe to leave the Ark. This also makes me think of how Noa's clan raises eagles...

The POTA franchise has always used bunkers in in its story, all the way back to the originals with the mutants from Beneath the Planet of the Apes that lived underground.

Aircraft as an Ark

Some movies/shows that come to mind that use aircraft, planes, and even spaceships as an Ark are Guardians of the Galaxy Vol. 3, Thor Ragnarok, and The Handmaid's Tale.

In GotG Vol. 3, the movie ends with a bunch of animals escaping an exploding spaceship by getting on Knowhere, a spaceship/planet. This reminds me of how Noah had two of each animal on the Ark.

In Thor Ragnarok, Thor gets the people of Asgard on a spaceship in order to escape the destruction of their home world, Asgard.

In season 3 of The Handmaid's Tale, June and other rebels create a plan to get a bunch of children out of Gilead by having them escape on an airplane.

Even before this, when June learns how many others agreed to help, she jokingly replies, "We're gonna need a bigger boat."

I did create this post earlier this year where I discuss how Kingdom could be foreshadowing Noa taking flight in an aircraft. Where would the apes get a plane? Where would they go? And if it's a plane, what would they be escaping? The humans? Maybe it's both apes and humans escaping something? Other humans? A bomb? A virus? A natural disaster?

Boat as an Ark

This one is very on the nose, lol. I don't have other movies as examples for this one, but the story of Noah uses a literal boat, so I don't think I need to find other examples to prove this as a possibility. I personally don't think it would be a boat, but it could be another neat way to show how apes are advancing. And considering how apes die by drowning a lot in Kingdom, and how other movies like the 2001 POTA shows apes being afraid of water, apes getting on a boat could be a neat way to show how they're no longer afraid of the water?

Soooo that's all I got. A bunker is the one that makes the most sense. I also really like the idea of planes and apes advancing enough to understand flight. Boats I'm not very confident on, but I'm open to all possibilities. Feel free to share your thoughts and ideas!

[bird-inacage]

The Heart Killers EP1: Early Hints into Kant's Backstory

Kant is shaping up to be a very intriguing character in my opinion, and no doubt more so thanks to Khaotung's gushing. We've already been given a number of early signposts towards Kant's backstory, so this is my recap and speculations on what we know so far.

THE SKILLS OF A THIEF

We're shown through a flashback that Kant used to steal cars and sell them on - a series of crimes which Captain Chris agreed to disregard in exchange for Kant's previous assistance on his cases.

The natural question to ask would be why? Why was Kant stealing cars? If I were to hazard a guess, possibly due to dire financial straits where this was his only means to support his family. Bison comments, "from your car and how you dress, you don't look like a typical tattoo artist, you know? More like those uppercrust tattoo artists." Kant retorts he just makes enough to get by. I wouldn't be surprised if he and his brother did grow up in some form of poverty or limited means. It would then make sense then why Kant is so driven to support his brother's dreams - because they've felt so out of reach.

The other big question on my mind is why involve Kant? Did Chris see this as a form of charity or rehabilitation for a wayward youth, or an opportunity to exploit a boy who happened to possess valuable skills? "Keep your eye on you and your brother's future. You're a smart brat. You'll find a way." Either Chris is a dubious cop with questionable methods (including coercion), or Kant is a budding criminal mastermind whose too slippery not to be kept on side by the police. (If anyone remembers the Leonardo DiCaprio film 'Catch me if you can', the film's young protagonist is extremely adept at fraud and once caught, is then hired as a fraud detective due to his knowledge and experience of such crimes).

There has to be more than just Kant's history of stealing cars that has Chris so confident in his ability to help with this specific case. And to tackle hitmen of all things where Kant's life could be in serious danger.

AN ELUSIVE FATHER

Kant's parents have not been explicitly mentioned, but references to his father have been implied. They certainly don't live with parental figures so Kant appears to be Babe's sole legal guardian. As he's now 29 years old, Kant may have taken Babe with him once at legal age, or after reasons that kept their parents out of the picture.

In Kant's first scene, he gets a call from a contact named "old fart". My immediate hunch is this could be his father. Moreso, Kant looks visibly exasperated so they're clearly not on the best of terms.

I may very well be jumping here, but something has me speculating if Kant's father had any influence on his car theft; whether his father was the one who taught him how, or was in some form of trouble that Kant stole cars to fend for him and his brother out of desperation.

On a contrasting note, Kant does mention that his father left him his car, a possession that seems particularly dear to him as he's constantly warding off Style's attempts to pry it from his hands. It later becomes the very demand Style bargains for in order to agree to help distract Fadel, and Kant is visibly reluctant to let it go. Needless to say, his relationship with his father may be complicated.

BROTHERLY AFFECTION

We haven't been told Babe's age, but he's been seen wearing school uniform in some BTS photos - so late teens would be my guess. Babe expresses an interest in English literature and Shakespeare, vowing to visit the UK eventually to see his plays in person. If the two brothers did grow up under difficult circumstances, it would be safe to assume that such academic pursuits and going overseas would seem like a luxury, and very much aspirational rather than realistic.

Despite this, Kant is clearly very supportive of his brother's interests and wellbeing. He's very fond of him, and Babe is the sole motivation for why Kant is blackmailed into assisting Chris. This love goes both ways. Babe doesn't ask too many questions about what Kant gets up to as long as he's being safe. He looks happy for him when he spots Kant and Bison together.

I wonder if he has any idea of Kant's criminal history or that he's been assisting the police. My instinct would be no, as Kant would likely be inclined to protect his brother or to prevent him from worrying.

If anyone knows Thai and can translate, I'd be interested to know if there are any notable tidbits visible on Kant's criminal file (above).

You can keep tabs on bird-inacage’s BL meta directory for my other long-form posts around The Heart Killers, which I’ll be updating in real time as the show airs. Probably worth reading my analysis on the FK's character interviews where some of these points are touched on.

[durgetavoc]

Yes I really want to know the horrors of the shit bucket. I’m quite surprised that he isn’t obsessed with cleanliness. He always struck me as the type but then again… I guess I’m wrong.

Oh god, here we go then.

SPOILERS FOR THE HOUSE OF HOPE

(CW for...The Shit Bucket Guy, obviously)

So, if we ever decide to go steal the Orphic Hammer, we can go visit The House of Hope, there, we obviously find Raphael's collection of artifacts, his eternal debtors, and one of them is… This guy.

You should know that all eternal debtors are condemned to a certain task/action. It's difficult to know if this has anything to do with their contract with Raphael, if it is a distortion of an already existing trait of their personality (for example, the Perfect Eternal Debtor, the Theologist Eternal Debtor or even the Voyeur Eternal Debtor) or if it's a way to completely dehumanize them (Loyal Eternal Debtor…My beloved :( ). It seems to be a mix of everything, that wouldn't be surprising if Raphael did what seemed most entertaining to him.

But let's focus on the Shit Bucket Guy, since he's the one that interested us today.

As our affectionate nickname for him indicates, we find him in front of a chamber pot with a visible green odorous cloud above it, which confirms us that it has been used (when you interact with the pot, here what the game says : "An overpowering stench singes your nostrils. Nothing good happened here."). The debtor doesn't appreciate us getting closer to it, and if we ask him if he is its guardian, this is what he answers:

His "name" in the game is "Unclean Eternal Debtor" and if you're taking a look at his face... Yeah, I guess he's not just guarding the pot. When we observe the animation of the character, he walks around the pot, makes a hand gesture to smell it, and that's it.

It has become a running joke in the fandom, particularly for us, little mouses. Those who have been to the House of Hope know about the Shit Bucket Guy... But nobody talks about him.

(Yeah I couldn't help it.)

It's not really surprising, the presence of the chamber pot, and not just any one, RAPHAEL'S, raises other questions. One might wonder if it's not a little OOC coming from someone like him.

Let's take advantage of this question to dig... A little deeper.

Here's, imo of course, why it's somehow relevant to show Raphael's chamber pot and what this tells us about him.

Shall we?

1. Don't be fooled by appearances, he POOPS like us!

Raphael. Raphael. Raphael who embodies sophistication, intellect and danger... Alluring and at the same time fearsome, a fascinating mix. Goddamnit, he's a suave motherfucker, and he fucking knows it.

In video games, it's part of the suspension of disbelief to not talk/show toilet, unless you're in a life simulation game like sims. It's not just taboo since it's one of the most private aspects of our life, but it's also... Not relevant to the intrigue most of the time.

Showing us something that intimate about him disintegrate his mysterious aura. We learnt that Raphaels shits. Yeah, absolutely astonishing. Reminding us that he's exactly at the same level as us. Like the title said, despite his charming manners, his eloquence, his theatrical gestures... He's still human, hells, part human.

2. In the Devil's house.

The first time we meet Raphael, he wastes no time in bringing us to his home, on his own terms. We only see one room, and this is what we see:

Luxurious place, lavish displays of food, ordered furniture... Promising, right? This is how Raphael wants to give as a first impression. I think this scene is perfect as a metaphor. Remember what Gale said? He's taking us to dinner! Like a date, he wants to impress us, seduce us.

But when we're back to this place during our improvised visit, what do we see?

Rotten food. Blood. Skeletons. Mess. Remind me of my room before I have to rush to clean everything because a friend comes over.

By choosing to enter Raphael's home, into his privacy, the game takes us on a tour of his home: we discover what is hidden behind Raphael's character. It is of course expected that we discover his secrets and/or aspects of his personality that he would not wish to reveal, at least not before we make a deal with him.

Haarlep, his incubus, also participates in this demystification. Through them, we can learn about Raphael's sexuality (I'll be quick on this since @bitethedevil did some really good analysis posts about it):

Raphael is only attracted to himself (hence Haarlep's appearance)

He is a bottom pillow prince

And he doesn't last in bed (a valuable information that can be used to anger Raphael later)

Once again, this is another very intimate aspect that is revealed to us. I'm sorry to say it, but Haarlep basically plays the same role as the chamber pot to accentuate the intimacy of the place and also to ridicule Raphael, thus revealing to us what he really is.

3. Raphael hates his father.

Our favorite cambion is having daddy issues, and the chamber pot seems like a nice response to the statue his dad gave him. It's a "blink and you'll miss it" kind of detail, but it's funny to point it out. Show don't tell as it's finest.

4. How bad it is to sell your soul to Raphael.

This one is easy... The Shit Bucket Guy is an example of Raphael's cruelty : "This is what could happen to you if you make a contract with Raphael."

Sure, it's funny because the whole thing is ridiculous: "Guardian of his chamber pot? Seriously?", but it's hard to really laugh at it if you take into account the other eternal debtors. The whole place is designed to make you uncomfortable, because it's not treated as a joke. They had a life, had to ask Raphael for help, and are now reduced to doing something degrading until the end of time. They don't even have a name anymore. They could be your Tav/Durge or your companions...

Suddenly, the temptation to make a contract with Raphael is less appealing after seeing all this, isn't it?

Conclusion : Now the question that burns our lips : What could this guy have done to him to be reduced to this? And why?

My first instinct when I met this character was to think, "oh boy, you must have really pissed off Raphael..." let's be honest, it's the kind of torture you could imagine to your worst enemy or at least a very annoying one.

It could be that, or maybe, mayyybe...

Remember Mephistopheles' statue?

What if Raphael was SO annoyed by this gift that he woke up one day thinking "fuck my dad, fuck his gift" and decided to literally shit on him by putting a chamber pot in front of this statue to express his thanks. And just like any narcissist/paranoid guy, he named a "guard" to be sure no one would spy on him through this (it sounds delirious, but again, we learn that Haarlep was send to distract Raphael, so why not?)

Sure, maybe Shit Bucket Guy annoyed Raphael in the past, but wouldn't that be kinda fucked up that this guy didn't do anything that would justify this treatment? He's just a dude, and Raphael is just a pissed-off daddy's boy (and a very mature one).

Or maybe, Raphael just thinks it's funny. And who are we to discuss a devil's sense of humor?

In any case, sorry Shit Bucket Guy, but it wasn't your lucky day.

PS: Hush, I can hear you wondering "do you think Raphael is scat???" and on this subject I would say: I don't think so, his narcissism is there after all, but he also seems really into humiliation. So maybe it's for the best we don't really know the answer to this question.

After all, only Haarlep can judge him (so the bar is already on the floor).

[starlitmeadows]

i finally got to my puter yay

anyway, omega scug mother requested by @brickupon10thousandbricks!! ...i've no idea why i decided to make a full piece honestly

lazy doodles below the cut

imagine being a huge biosupercomputer and some overgrown ass rodent comes to yell at your superstructure

[yanderecxre]

Yandere!Retired Colonel headcanons

You only knew him by his nickname, "Saint", beyond that you knew nothing about him. But oh, did he know everything about you.

You, sweet and young, fresh outta college and working at the base he was stationed at before he decided to retire. You who took care of the daycare on base, who didn't even bat an eye at the insanity that the children you took care of looked like.

Saint even adopted a kid from the dumb program just to have an excuse to talk and see you, little Henry was a pain in the ass, literally and figuratively. The brat always clung to you, crying he didn't wanna go home. Making Saint look like a terrible grandfather. "Listen here you little brat, I'm trying to make sure they can't just up and leave, so start acting like I'm the greatest grandfather alive before you scare them off!"

Sweet, young bleeding heart little you. Always talking and smiling at him like he's some regular guy and not a powerful Colonel who could (and would if you ever tempted or forced his hand) ruin your budding little career before the hour ended. Of course though he'd never do that, not with how often he sees you now, at drop off, pick up, sometimes you ask guardians to help around the daycare, he's there every time.

Saint, who once he decides you're his, immediately gets to work implementing himself in your life, both personal and professional. Using little Henry as an excuse, poor boy getting used as an excuse for why the two ran into you everywhere you seemed to go. "Oh, hello Henry, Saint! What brings you two to the library?" You smile and ask as you hold a small stack of books, unaware that Saint was scanning the titles so he could ask you next time which was your favorite. Saint smiles and holds Henry's shoulder, laughing slightly. "Poor boy practically cried and threw a fit demanding we come to the library because he wanted to read and play in the kids section!" You were far too busy to see Henry glaring at Saint, his eyes darkening as you smiled and talked to him.

Saint, who finally asks you out on a proper date (you don't know of course that the date will be your last in a while, he already has your room set up in his cabin. Henry helped him pick everything out, the kid loved you too much to let his idiot of a grandfather make you feel unhappy.) When you accepted he smiled and offered to pick you up, you spent the rest of the day smiling and giggling as Henry clung to your leg pouting.

That night, you had a lovely date, perfect in every way, Saint was the perfect gentleman. Letting you order whatever you wanted and asking about your interests and life. He even insisted you call him by his actual name, Nicolas. He loved the way it rolled off your tongue, could only imagine you moaning and whimpering it as he went down on you later on-

You felt woozy during the last bit of the date, had you drank more than you thought, no way... you couldn't have, you looked up over at him, Saint looked perfectly fine, not like you. You stumbled slightly out your seat, he was there, holding you steady. "Oh dear, poor thing, let's get you home yeah sweetheart? You had lots to drink, I'll get your dessert to go." He murmured in your ear, holding you closely to his side his large hand firmly on your hip, keeping you near him.

The last thing you remember before passing out was Saint, helping you to his car. Hand on your hips as he assured you everything was alright, that you were just tipsy. Something in his voice made you feel weird but it got overshadowed by your head muddling as you whimpered softly and promptly passed out. You never knew that he drugged you, he wasn't a monster. He just needed you woozy enough to get you to his cabin.

"Don't look at me like that little brat, they're just unconscious. What? You gonna sleep by their bedside to protect their virtue?" "Yeah, because I don't trust you, grandfather." "You little fucker- Jesus! Did you just bite me?!"

[tlbodine]

So, Things Are Terrible and You Want to DO SOMETHING

The election is over and, ah...did not go well. While a lot of folks are doing a post mortem of the campaigns and trying to understand what happened with the vote and fighting over who shoulders the blame, we've gotta turn an eye toward the future and figure out, okay fam, where the fuck do we go from here.

I don't have all the answers on this, and I'm not an authority by any means, I'm just a horror author with a blog. But I've been thinking a lot about it and I wanted to share my thought process with others who might want to DO SOMETHING but feel they're spinning their wheels.

Buckle in. This will be a long one.

Step One: Understand the actual risks and stakes.

I think it is very easy to start panicking now about the worst possible case scenario -- jackbooted military busting into the door to disappear everyone who ever said something mean about Trump or bought a banned book or something -- and let fear turn into inaction.

I'm not saying things can't get that bad, and I'm not saying that it won't be absolutely terrifying right out the gate for some particularly at-risk groups -- but the distance between "now" and "V for Vendetta" is long and filled with a lot of intermediary steps. There will be so many opportunities to prevent the worst case scenario.

I say this because, if your mental image of "Bad Things Happening" is The Purge, it will be easy to wake up on inauguration day, look outside to see that the world is not on fire, think, hey, maybe things will be okay after all, and then completely disengage. Alternatively, you might feel so frozen with terror at the possibility of persecution that you do nothing. This is why people are saying: don't obey in advance.

It is essential for those of us with more privilege to use it to take care of those who are more vulnerable.

So. Who is most vulnerable? What does that vulnerability actually mean? What are the most likely risks of Trump's presidency? Here's a Guardian article that I think does a good job of summarizing some of the main issues. Go read that, then come back here.

Step Two: Take steps to protect yourself

You've gotta put your oxygen mask on first, right? So before you start getting involved in other causes, figure out what risks YOU are at, immediately, and do as much as you can to secure yourself. Some potential action steps depending on your circumstance may include:

Renewing your passport (helpful for leaving the country, but also for gender/name change purposes)

Getting vaccines / boosters

Securing birth control

Ensuring your necessary papers (birth certificates etc.) are where you have access to them.

Drawing up legal paperwork for spouses/partners (always a good idea, a helpful safety measure in case you lose marriage rights)

Bolstering your data privacy and online security. Here's a step-by-step guide I found that could help with that.

The specific steps you need to take here depend on what risks you, personally, face. You'll want to do some more research into this for your particular scenario.

No matter who you are, though, it's probably a good idea to start saving money and being a little more conservative with your spending and/or pay down debts to free up some cash. You don't know what kind of emergency may befall you, and having spare money for an emergency is never a bad idea.

There is a possibility that the cost of many things you rely on might go up, if Trump goes through with his tariffs plan. You will want to plan for that.

Food costs may also rise due to tariffs (we import a lot of food from Mexico and Latin America for example) as well as a loss of immigrant labor. There is also a possibility that food safety standards could fall due to overturning regulations. Now would be a good time to look into local food resources like farm share/CSA, community farms, etc., and to stock up on a few key staples like rice and beans.

Okay. Now that YOU are reasonably safe...what can you do to protect your community?

Step Three: Get Involved

Here is your mission: You need to stay engaged enough to know what's going on, without burning yourself out or exhausting yourself, and to take actual decisive actions instead of wasting your energy arguing on the internet.

Got that? Okay. Good. Here are some action steps:

Support independent journalism. Subscribe to local papers, donate to and watch public broadcast programming. I signed up for news from ProPublica, for example, as well as the news-roundup service What The Fuck Just Happened Today. The goal is to stay informed without falling down an endless rabbit hole of upsetting information.

Share news and resources with others in your circle. This can be a good use of social media. It's what I am doing right now!

If it is safe for you to do so, challenge and educate your friends/family members/neighbors/coworkers. Only if it is safe for you to do so. Do not put yourself at risk doing this. And do not waste your time arguing with people who are unlikely to change. But if you have well-meaning people in your life who you think could be won over, look for opportunities to do this - the right way. I've had some success with this, I will probably write a guide about it in the future. In the meantime, here's a good article that can help.

Join local grassroots activism groups. You'll have to do some work to decide what groups to join and which causes you want to support, because you cannot do everything. But there are tons of organizations taking direct action in all kinds of causes. Search "grassroots [cause] activists in [where you live]" to start finding things. Once you get involved in one group, you might meet people who can introduce you to other groups and causes. Yes, this means you will have to go outside and meet people. I'm sorry.

Join direct action groups. Same concept as above. You'll have to search in your area but once you know people it'll be easier to find more opportunities. Some of these groups may overlap. You might find direct action opportunities by engaging politically and vice versa. GO OUTSIDE AND TALK TO PEOPLE WHO ARE DOING THINGS TO HELP.

Get involved in local politics. Here are some quick tips. A lot of things are affected at the city level - stuff like book bans and bathroom bills are often battled first at local libraries and schools, and you can be part of those conversations! Sheriffs are elected and can have a big influence on local policing. Local elections affect how tax dollars are spent, how homeless populations are treated, and lots more. Don't snooze on local elections. Get involved and stay involved.

Look up your representatives. Get in the habit of calling, emailing, and writing letters. Figure out what legislature is being passed and then call your reps and harangue them about it - both to support bills you approve of and shoot down ones you don't. Sign petitions. Join email campaigns. Here's one you can go sign right now from the ACLU. See? Not that scary.

I think a lot of people figure that getting involved in politics doesn't matter or that it's all small potatoes but...man. The president is not god, no matter what he thinks. The sitting administration is not the sole power in the universe. There is an entire machine of government we can lean upon and act upon.

Finally, some general safety notes:

Some forms of direct action are not legal. Take steps to be safe if you choose to partake. Follow the lead of more seasoned activists for what forms of communication to use and so forth.

If you're not willing or able to put yourself at legal risk to act, you can help others by donating to bail funds and legal defense funds.

We've already seen this in some areas, and it will only get uglier - some bad actors are feeling emboldened by the change in regime and will misbehave. It's a good idea to learn some self-defense skills, in whatever way is comfortable to you, and brush up on some tenets of victimology that can help you stay safe. I'll write more about that in the future.

All right. That's all for now. It's by no means comprehensive...but should hopefully help you get started taking the next step. Stay safe out there.

[slowlyoats]

The Lost Boys: What they like in other people

Marko

- creativity

- Absolutely HATES the idea of blending in

- Hence why his jacket is so different from his brother’s jackets

- He’s drawn to creative people who outwardly express their creativity with their appearance

- This is why he loves the board walk!! There are TONS of people who dress originally and In an unapologetic way

- I think one of his biggest struggles with being a vampire is that he can’t be outside during the day, and it’s not because he misses the sun or the warmth, it’s because thats the time of day people are usually outside creating wall murals, doing chalk art, painting landscapes.

- He misses interacting with those artists

- So, if he is at the board walk and just so happens to see someone set up with an easel, painting the lights of carnival rides, you BET that boy is going to introduce himself

- And find out everything there is to know about you

- And try to convince you to stay in Santa Carla forever with him

Paul

- Music taste

- Paul is a music snob

- He will totally judge a person based off the music they listen to, and will, on many occasions, choose his victims based off their poor music taste

- His favorite place on the Boardwalk is the record store

- It’s run by this older lady who shares Paul’s love for music

- He goes in at least once a week to say hi, and discuss music with her

- I feel like her name is Gretchen, but Paul insists on calling her Gretch

- He usually sits behind the cash register and talks to her in between customers

- And if it’s one of those nights where Paul can’t sit still, Gretchen makes him unload boxes in the back room and set up any new displays

- She LOVES to play matchmaker with Paul

- Because she is the only record store around, she knows the music taste of most people who live in Santa Carla

- So she try’s to find Paul a date, by matching up his music taste with a regular’s

- This usually doesn’t work out, but she LOVES to try

- *whispers* “look at her Paul! Isn’t she lovely?? And she listens to Motley Crüe!”

- He went on one date that Gretchen set him up on, and it didn’t end too well….so he swore he would never do it again.

- Let’s just say that the girl smelled a little TOO good and he couldn’t stop himself from having a taste

- He cares too much about Gretchen’s companionship to ruin it with him loosing control and eating all her customers

Dwayne

- kindness

- The boys don’t get shown a lot of kindness because…you know…they kill people and stuff

- But that doesn’t mean they don’t have feelings!!

- Dwayne might be the silent, stern type, BUT if anyone shows him the tiniest bit of kindness this man will become your devoted follower

- He may be a vampire, but he remembers what it was like to be human, and how easy it is to be selfish and just plain mean

- He also remembers that kindness is a choice

- And the kindest people tend to be the strongest

- Being kind to him is one thing, he might keep an eye out for you on the boardwalk in case you find yourself in trouble, or change your tire if you get a flat.

- But

- If your kind to Laddie?

- Maybe he got lost and you helped him find his way back to the boys? Or bought him a ice cream? Or maybe even helped him reach an arcade game he so desperately wanted to play?

- Oh boy.

- You just found your self a guardian watch dog angel. Trust me when I saw NO ONE will lay a hand on you or look at you the wrong way EVER and live to tell the tale

- And if you just so happen to be his type?

- Well, I hope you like Santa Carla because you won’t be leaving

David

- courage

- He admires someone who can stand there ground

- Who can get in the face of a surfer nazi and tell them where they can stick it

- Who won’t put up with Paul and Marko teasing them, and will dish it right back to them!

- Who won’t be intimidated and has no problem telling him and the boys “no” with a smile on their face

- Someone who doesn’t give a flying you-know-what about what anyone has to say to them about hanging around him and his boys

- Their confident in their decisions, even the bad ones

- When offered a drink from that sparkly bottle they give him a wink, and take a huge swig!

- And PROMPTLY spit it out all over their prized poster, because like HELL will you be tricked into doing anything you don’t want to do

[satorusugurugurl]

The Princess and her Knight

Pairing: Knight Geto Suguru x FAB Princess Reader

Word Count: 3,383

Warning: Fingering, cursing, making out? Talking of royal politics, voyeurism,

A/N: This gave me the brain worms. I love fantasy. Plus Geto as a knight in leather?! 🫠🥴 yummy!!

“What a waste! I pity anyone who gets stuck marrying her! I've never been insulted! Good luck marrying her off!” Geto smiled, tilting his head as your latest suitor stormed out of the gardens.

That makes ten suitors so far. All of which have left either furious, like this one, or very disappointed. “He’s gone, Y/N,” Suguru called out with a chuckle.

Upon his words, you poked your head out from behind the large willow tree in the garden. You grinned, stepping out of your hiding place, happily humming as you smooth out your long lavender gown before standing before your knight. Geto Suguru shook his head, offering you his arm.

“Your parents are not going to be happy.”

“Well, I'm not happy!” you stuck out your bottom lip, looking up at your guardian. “Suguru, they want to sell me off like cattle! I’m a person, not a thing! Don't my feelings count?”

“They should, but you’re of age. It comes with the territory of being a princess.” Suguru’s stoic voice had you rolling your eyes. “You should try to get to know some of them, Y/N.”

You didn't want to get to know these strange men! You just wanted to know Suguru on a more intimate level. Peel back the layers of leather, steel, and cloth. What was your dark-haired knight hiding under professionalism and attitude? He certainly wasn't a fan of these strange men coming to see you. You had seen the look each time one of them took your hand. It was a subtle twitch of the eye, nothing any other person would notice. But you, you knew him like the back of your hand. Your knight was jealous.

Suguru would never make the first move because of two things. One, he was your knight, and two, he was of common birth. You couldn't care less about that! If he would continue to observe without acting, you had to take matters into your own hands.

“Why bother? Every single one of them is disappointed with my naivety. They say there’s no point in getting to know someone if I don't know how to kiss properly.”

Suguru stopped in his tracks, dark eyes snapping in your direction. “What did you just say?” Perfect, he was taking the bait.

“I said, all these suitors are running off because they said I don't know how to kiss.” You sighed, shrugging your shoulders. “That's the problem with royal families; they simply tell you to produce an heir. They don't teach you about your body and how to seduce others. I suppose my family name will die out.” You could feel every muscle in Suguru’s body tighten with your words. “All because no one taught me how to kiss.”

“I-I see—!” This is the only thing Suguru had to say in response to your very open invitation. How much more of a hint could you drop!?

Drastic times called for drastic measures.

Suguru groaned, looking down as you hugged his arm. Your perfect breasts were brushing against him. “Suguru, do you know how to kiss?” The sparkle in your eyes and faint flush that dusted your cheeks had Suguru fighting against himself.

“I do,” seeing your excitement, he flicked your forehead, “do not even ask.”

Despite being a young adult, you whined like a child. You were hugging his arm tighter, pressing yourself harder against him. You were not backing down! Not this time! If your parents wanted to sell you off for procreation, you were going to have fun!

“Isn't it your duty to protect me? To protect the crown?”

“Yes, but kissing you is not in my job description.”

“Suguru.” When he looked down at you, he was met with teary eyes. A sight he had not anticipated seeing. “Please.” Inhaling sharply, Suguru watched as those big tears streamed down your cheeks. “It's bad enough I have to marry someone I don't love. All of my firsts are being sold off to the highest bidder. Is it that bad that I want to give my first kiss to whomever I choose?”

“Y/N, don't.”

You released his arm, pressing your hands on his chest, staring into his eyes. He was everything to you: your protector, friend, and first love. Geto Suguru is the man you would choose to be your everything—husband, king, lover.

You wanted to be everything to him as well.

“Suguru, please, I want it to be you.” You stood on your tiptoes, closing the distance between you. “Will you please teach me?” You glanced at his lips through your lashes before leaning in closer. His heavy breathing mingled with yours. An unfamiliar sensation began to flutter in your lower stomach. “Sugu—”

A millisecond before your lips touched, Suguru’s hand shot up, covering his mouth. His reaction felt like a dagger to the heart. He didn't want it. Meaning he must not want you.

You thought what the two of you had was more. That your relationship wasn't merely knight and princess, friends, that maybe deep down beneath the vows he'd taken, he felt more than his duty. All the laughs you shared, the late-night strolls, afternoon naps in the garden. It wasn't; it wasn't just a lie, unrequited love.

But how could it be more if he reacted like this?

Embarrassment washed over the desire you had felt seconds before. Leaving you feeling numb and empty. “I-I have to go,” you whispered, turning on your heels for the palace.

You didn't have a chance to move. Your wrist was grabbed as Suguru began dragging you towards the hedge maze. Suguru didn't say a word as he pulled you deeper and deeper inside. His vigilant eyes searched every corner for any sign of life. He was always watchful, but now, more than ever.

Once he had you as far away from the palace and servants, he turned to glare down at you. Bracing yourself for a lecture, you shut your eyes tight. You didn't have the courage to face him. You didn't want those hopes to be over just yet!

“Don't!” Hands flew up, pushing against his chest. “Please don't break my heart. Let me hang on to the thoughts of us just a little while longer, please! They're the only thoughts that make me happy!”

Suguru’s harsh words never came. Instead, his hands reached down, gently holding yours. “You're not that bright sometimes, are you.” His soft tone had your gaze snapping towards his face. “But then again, that's one of the things I like about you.” Suguru brought your hands to his mouth. “Oblivious and passionate.” Lips, his lips brushed against your knuckles, sending your heart slamming against your ribcage.

“B-But I-I don't understand. You covered your mouth!”

“Because you choose a spot in the wide open to come onto me.” Shaking his head, Suguru gently released your hands. “Just how would you explain this to any prying eyes?”

“Huh, this? What do you mean thi—”

Suguru’s hands cupped your face, pulling you into a deep and passionate kiss. They were soft, softer than you ever dreamed they'd be. You melted into him, kissing him back with the same gentle tempo. Feeling your lips against his, Suguru groaned, his eyebrows furrowing as one hand moved to the back of your head, deepening the kiss.

Your hands gripped his shirt, hanging onto him tight as you matched his movements as best as possible. This had to be the best first kiss anyone had ever experienced. It was passionate and sweet, like the pastries you would sneak from the kitchens. The entire world had stopped around the two of you.

You were the first to break the kiss; the both of you panted, mouths practically still against each other. “That was, wow.” Suguru chuckled as your words murmured into his mouth.

“Yeah, wow.”

“Again.” Was the only thing you said before crashing your lips against his. He stumbled back, falling onto the grass. “Mmm,” You moaned, eyes shut, eyebrows knitting in concentration.

He tasted sweet, like the strawberries you two had shared before you had to meet with the baron. Sweet and tangy, a taste you craved more with each kiss. Suguru’s hands gently gripped against your hips as he leaned back against one of the hedge walls. Feeling his hands, those strong, calloused hands on your body in a way no one had touched you before, had that faint fluttering sensation returning to your stomach.

Suguru felt the way you twitched under his touch, eyes slowly opening to watch your reactions. You were flushed, eyes shut tight, as you kissed him back. It was utterly adorable. He watched you, trying to figure out what you liked and how you were supposed to move. The gods were so good to him. Giving him a chance to not only protect you but also to touch you in ways you'd never been touched.

You pulled back, gasping for air. Suguru could see the hunger in your eyes, the desire for him. So he decided to give his darling princess a hand. Grabbing your hips, Suguru repositioned you so that you were straddling him. Following his lead, you pulled your skirts up a bit, allowing your legs to rest on either side of his body. Your bodies were so close to each other, only your undergarments and his pants separating you.

“Are you okay?” Suguru’s voice was hoarse, lips swollen from the intense kisses.

“I-I feel strange, like my body is on fire.” You knew all about sex and what came along with it. You had read plenty of books, ones your tutors would never approve of. But experiencing it firsthand, words failed in comparison to actually feeling another's hands on you. “I don't know what to do; this isn't covered in my lessons.”

Tensions grew between you, thick and heavy, as Suguru hummed. Half of his dark hair cascaded down his back, while the rest was tied in a bun, allowing you to see his flushed ears. It seemed as though you weren’t the only one feeling the growing heat simmering between you. You knew he wanted this as bad as you did. But to what extent was he willing to go?

Clearing his throat, Suguru gently squeezed your hips. “That's the problem with royals. They always tell you to be obedient and take care of your partner's needs.” rough handles slid down to your thighs. “They never explain your body to you. Or how to please your partner.” Dark eyes seared through you. “Luckily for you, I know how to take care of you, how to make you feel good.” Words trailed off as his blush darkened. “Could I try?” Your face turned red.

“Y-Yes, please.”

Suguru slid his hands up, gently grabbing and massaging your breasts in his hands. “Gods, you feel so good.”

“Oh my god.” You gasped out, arching, pressing yourself closer into his palms. “Your hand is so big.”

“Oh Princess,” Suguru purred, his head leaning in, trailing kisses down your neck, “You sound so fucking pretty.” Fingers began rubbing circles over your hardening nipples.

That hot foreign feeling in the pit of your stomach spread, settling between your legs. “Suguru~ oh Suguru, it feels so good.” Fingers gently ran through his hair, tangling in the dark strands of silky hair.

Encouraged by your sounds, Suguru kissed down your neck, over your collarbone, before he gently tugged the front of your dress down. You'd opted out of a corset today, thank the gods, making it easier for Suguru to pull the brassiere down. Your perfect breasts bounced. With a glance around, making sure the coast was clear, Suguru hummed before taking your nipple in his mouth.

“Oh, gods! You clasped a hand over your mouth, I

In an attempt to silence yourself. “Nngh S-Sugu, that feels weird but good at the same time.”

“Do you like how it feels?” Suguru’s mouth turned to your other breast, giving it the same loving treatment. Tongue swirling around the sensitive bud, making you whimper in turn.

You gripped his shoulders, pressing your chest further into his face. “I-I do! I, oh gods, I had no idea I was capable of feeling like this.” It felt like every nerve in your body was on fire. Every touch, every lap of his tongue, had you craving more. You wanted more, but not for yourself. The desperation of making Suguru feel as good as you did had you feeling confident. “Can I make you feel good too?” Suguru’s eyes widened before unlatching himself from your breasts.

“Y/N, you have no idea what this is doing to me.” When you could finally look into his eyes, you noticed how heavily he was breathing. He looked so out of it like he had gone off the deep end. “I need more of this; don't worry about me.” behind the lust and the need, you could also see the love and adoration. He shifted under you, pressing his hardening bulge against your core before massaging your breasts once more.

Feeling it had you tilting your head back, eyes widening. “Oh fuck~!” Your curse had Suguru groaning, fighting the urge to rock up against you. “S-Suguru~ feels so good, but I uhm—” You felt wet, sticky, and warm between your legs. The foreign feeling had your cheeks burning.

Upon hearing the hesitation in your tone, Suguru pulled away instantly. “Feel what? Are you okay? I didn't hurt you, did I?” His genuine concern had you falling for him even harder.

“No! Not in the slightest! I, well, I feel wet between my legs?” Your answer was formed more like a question. You were unsure how an average couple would mention this. Instead of continuing to speak, you leaned back slightly, lifting your skirts. “Do we, do we need to stop?”

Suguru hissed through his teeth. The sight of your lacey underwear had his pants growing tighter. But it was the dampness forming on them, your arousal glinting in the rays of sunlight, that had him throbbing. His sweet, innocent princess had left a wet spot on his pants. Fuck, he didn't think he needed anyone as bad as he needed you. You gifted, feeling hot under his gaze as he licked his lips, eyes glued to your dripping sex.

“N-No, gods no, that's supposed to happen when you're feeling good and aroused.” His voice was deep, cracking with need. “Do you want to stop? We can.”

“No! I don't want to stop.”

“Ok, just lean back a bit.” Following his instructions, you put both hands behind you, resting them on his knees. With shallow breaths, you watched as he slid his hand between your legs, his finger slowly pressing against your covered core. “Oh my gods,” Suguru growled, biting his lip. He curled his finger under the fabric separating the two of you before dipping his finger between your folds.

“Ah!” You squeaked out, covering your mouth. “Oh gods, oh gods, Sugu.”

“You're so wet, Y/N.” Gentle fingers moved up and down, feeling your folds before they traced around your entrance. “Who knew my princess was so,” he smirked, leaning forward, nipping at your earlobe, “sensitive?” The second that last word left his mouth, he pushed a finger inside of you.

Your entire body lurched; Suguru’s free grabbed your hip, helping steady you. Your mouth was wide open as so many sensations hit you at once. Shock, pleasure, and desire, the feeling of Suguru’s finger pumping in and out of you slowly, god, it was better than kissing.

“Feel good,” you kissed his forehead, “feels good Sugu.”

The pretty sounds from your mouth made Suguru’s throat dry. Swallowing hard, he began pumping his finger in and out of your tight cunt. Your walls hugged him so tight, trying to prevent him from moving. But Geto Suguru wasn't going to let that stop him. Not when you breathed out his name like it was a prayer to the gods. He pumped his finger faster, curling it in before he slid another finger into your heat.

“Oh fuck.” A tightening sensation formed in your lower abdomen. “Oh fuck, Suguru, Sugu~!”

Your knight closed the distance, kissing you deeply. “Shhh, Y/N, don't be so loud. What would people say if they saw you like this?” His fingers curled inside of you.

“They’d say lucky princess!” you moaned against his lips.

“Yeah?” Suguru scoffed against your swollen lips. “You're honest, I'll give you that.” He tilted his head, thumb brushing against your clit. “I think your honesty deserves a reward.” His thick fingers pushed deeper, rubbing against a spot inside of you that had you seeing sparks. Knowing the reaction you would have, Suguru kissed you to swallow the moan that ripped through your throat.

The pleasure felt so good; you wanted to be loud, to let the whole kingdom know how good your knight made you feel. Suguru was right. You had to be quiet, at least until you two could sneak off to his quarters. You would rather die than allow this to be a one-time thing. For now, you kissed him to muffle your whimpers and cries.

When Suguru felt your pussy twitching, contracting around his fingers, he smirked. How lucky was he? Not only was he your first kiss, but he would also get to be the first one to make you cum. And if he was lucky, and the gods were gracious enough, he'd be the only one to do so.

A broken “Sugu” was the only final confirmation he needed that you were going to cum. His hand sped up, fingers fucking into you as your hips rolled, chasing the strange feeling that was fluttering inside of you. You rocked and rolled up, and the coil inside of you snapped. You screamed into Suguru’s mouth as you gushed around his fingers. Your first orgasm had your toes curling, your heart racing, and you trembling in your knight's lap.

“Holy fuck.” Suguru moaned out against your lips. Watching you squirm on his lap had his cock throbbing. “Fuck Y/N.” Shuddering sighs shook your entire being as you pressed your forehead against his, Y/E/C boring into dark eyes. Licking your lips, feeling more confident than ever, your hands reached down, cupping his erection. “Nngh!”

“Suguru, let me help you.”

Just as you learned away, Suguru’s eyes began to follow your other hand, trailing over his shoulder, when a shape caught his eye. He moved, throwing you off his lap and putting you behind him as he drew out his sword. The shape stepped closer, and Suguru clenched his teeth.

“Stop, right fuckin’ there. Don't move a muscle.”

The sudden shock wore off, and you quickly readjusted yourself before scooting back against the hedge. Your heart was thundering again, this time not because of lust or excitement but because of fear. Shaking, you and Suguru watched as the shape stepped out of the darkness and into the glimmering rays of sunlight.

“Relax, I was just enjoying the show.” your eyes trailed over fine clothes of dark blue, embodied with silver threads. “I was surprised to see Princess Y/N, the so-called naive and stuck-up princess, getting finger fucked.”

“Stop!” Suguru commanded, taking a step back towards you. “Don't move any closer, and state what business you have here at the palace.”

“My family dragged me here.” The stranger didn't heed Suguru’s warning and stepped further into the light. “They keep dragging me to meet stupid princesses. They’re so insistent I find a bride and father an heir. After hearing all the rumors about your princess, I hid here before meeting. But by the gods themselves, who would have imagined I found the princess here? And she's not as naive as the rumors stated.” Another step closer towards you.

“Who are you?” You asked, standing up, peeking from behind Suguru.

The stranger chuckled, stepping entirely out into the light. Cerulean blue eyes glittered behind white eyelashes that narrowed as he smirked. “Gojo Satoru, Prince of the kingdom of Fontaine.” Both you and Suguru’s hearts dropped into your stomachs as the prince chuckled. “And I think I just found myself a bride,” his eyes focused on Suguru, “and a husband. The gods are good!”

[loggiepj]

To Love A Lannister

chapter 14 | chapter 15

"They attacked Meereen," Oberyn stated, "Queen Daenerys did the right thing, killing all the masters to stop slavery."

Your guardian father hummed in agreement, still looking at you. Absorbed by the newfound information about your sister, you found yourself lost in thoughts. Daenerys hadn't only gained Unsullied army on her side, but also the Dothraki. The Dothraki were known to be ruthless, and war was nothing to them but sport. When you were young, you'd play with your friends, pretending to be Dothraki when you all were far from one. Any tourney held in King's Landing was nothing in comparison to the way the Dothraki fight.

"Varys has confided to me in secret to meet them in Dragonstone," your guardian father added, making you glance upon the mention of a familiar name. Varys used to be part of the King's council. You thought he was still part of the council, advising Tommen and Tywin. If the Lannisters would find out, it would be considered treason. "To bend the knee. I hear the Ironborns have also supported her side recently."

"And what does Prince Doran has to say about all of these?" you butted in, the mention of your real father's name in your mouth caused a turmoil in your stomach.

Oberyn placed the cup of wine he was drinking on the table, leaned his back comfortably against his seat, then lifted his legs to rest upon the edge of the table. "After much convincing given how he always admire the Dothraki, my brother has already advised to proceed, although it might take us a bit longer due to some complications."

Furrowing your brows deeper, you asked, "You mean his son's marriage?"

Your guardian father nodded. "He tried persuading Trystane but to no luck. Marrying them would pledge alliance between the Martells and the Lannisters. It would cause a rebellion within the house."

You only frowned upon them. "So you wish to stop them then?"

"Unless Myrcella can be easily persuaded to support the true Queen," Oberyn said, "we have no choice but to make a scene just to stop any wedding from happening."

"This is an insult!" you argued. "They're just in love!"

Remembering Myrcella's ecstatic behavior upon her mother's surprised visit in Dorne, you couldn't help but feel sympathy for them. You saw her with Prince Trystane together when you first arrived back home, and you could tell it was rare — falling in love with the person your parents wish for you to marry at first.

It was then you found out the plans Lord Tywin arranged for his granddaughter. Maybe that was why he kept you alive in the Capital. Maybe that was why he accepted Yronwood without second thoughts, because regardless if you would marry Cersei or not, Myrcella would still marry Trystane.

The only thing different was both Myrcella and Trystane were already enamored with each other.

If they could forbid you and Cersei, it wouldn't hurt if they could also break Myrcella and Trystane apart. But Trystane being next in line to his father Prince Doran, it would cause an uproar amongst the Dornish folks.

Prince Doran held a massive feast for the guests when you all finally arrived in Dorne a week ago. Although his presence couldn't help but make you feel bothered. Even when he hugged you, congratulating you for your win against the murderer of his late sister, you wondered how good of a father Doran was if he only knew.

Your guardian father had welcomed you as if nothing had changed, and you couldn't hate him for hiding such facts from you since you were a kid. He did it for your own protection.

"Oberyn has told me how you had grown quite fond of Cersei," your guardian father said, bringing you back to the present. "I trust you have already had your fun. You know your duty, Y/n."

"My duty that was only made known to me a month ago?"

"It's difficult, I know," he answered. "But it's easier this way. You don't want to end up in a decision you'd truly regret for the rest of your life — choosing between her and your own family."

~~~

The night finally came to an end. You left the room rather abruptly, eyes glistening with tears for you were lost on what to do. And it was your inattentiveness that made you bump into Cersei as she closed the door of Myrcella's chambers.

"Why are you still awake?" Cersei asked. When she saw your eyes red, she cupped your face and pulled your chin to look at her. "What's wrong?"

You bit back, holding your emotions as you forced a smile. "Nothing, Your Grace. Just a silly argument with my father."

Her eyebrows knitted in worry and confusion, knowing you weren't being transparent with her. When she was about to speak, you stopped her. "I want to show you something." Holding your hand in hers, Cersei let you lead the way.

You walked through dark hallways and climbed down spirals and spirals of stairs until you both arrived in the grand library of the Sunspear castle. You had spent most of your life in there. It wasn't as great as the Red Keep's, but it stood its purpose for centuries.

You led Cersei to the center of the room, pointing to a huge painting displayed on the entire wall, with portraits of faces on top of italicized names and vines connecting each individual.

"It's the family tree of House Martell. Did you know that Prince Doran's great great grandfather was a Targaryen?" you asked, as you pointed the almost faded face on the wall, while your other hand still held Cersei's. It was a mystery to you she hadn't let go.

Cersei smiled. "You should be wary who you're sharing it with. One could tell you're supporting the wrong line."

"It's not a harmful knowledge. This is also written in scrolls I found in your library, you know," you chided in, chuckling. "Not unless you don't read them, then you wouldn't know."

She laughed, slapping your arm playfully, finally letting you go as she approached closer to the wall.

You then fell silent as you watched her stare at the wall with fascination, her fingers brushing on your portrait connected to your guardian father's name.

Absentmindedly grabbing a dusty book from the shelf, you began, "Sometimes, I wish I wasn't part of it, part of the duty expected out of me."

Cersei then glanced at you, before she closed the distance. "Y/n—"

"Do you sometimes feel that way too?" You placed the book back although stopped midway when her hand touched your arm.

She sighed, nodding. "I . . . I do, and then I remember my children and what I would do for them."

You averted your gaze, heartbeat quickened from how near the Queen was.

Cersei continued, "They say never love anyone besides your children and family. Because love is poison. A sweet poison, yes. But it will kill you just the same."

You met her eyes, already staring right at you. "You will be the death of me, Cersei."

The book somehow fell unto the floor, making a distinct yet sharp noise that could wake any resident nearby. You quickly shushed Cersei's lips when you heard sounds of metal armor clanking outside, pushing the woman against the nearest shelves to hide.

"Is anyone in there?!" one of the Dornish guards yelled into what seemed like an empty room. You and Cersei were pressed against each other in one corner, the dusty wooden shelf and an old abandoned large furniture hid the both of you. Unaware of Cersei's gaze following your face, you peered behind the shelf to check if the guard had left.

And when you both heard the door closing, you leaned back and looked at Cersei, smiling as if you won a game of hide-and-seek. It was only then when you finally noticed how the distance between you and the Queen was inexistent.

Cersei then grabbed your neck and kissed you.

Hesitantly pulling away, you whispered, "Someone could see us."

"Let them," she pleaded, her eyes never leaving your mouth. "A lioness does not concern herself to the opinions of the sheep."

When her eyes finally met back yours, you pushed your mouth against her lips and took back what you desired.

It was carnal, hungry, desperate. As if you were both deprived from each other for too long. You gently lifted and placed her on top of a study table, scrolls and papers crumpled and fell from the action, before your hand made haste bunching her dress up to her waist. Kneeling before her, you wasted no time tasting her once you had pushed her chemise out of way.

"Y/n," Cersei let out a strained moan, her hand immediately clutching your head, fingers threading through your hair as if it were reins to which she would ride you. And she did, pushing your face harder and closer into her as she rode you. The Queen's other hand was behind her as support while you lifted one of her thighs on your shoulder.

The Lioness chanted your name like a prayer as she threw her head back. Your tongue never grew tired bringing her to ecstasy, flicking against her swollen aching bud. The sounds you made, grunting and moaning as she pulled your hair, only spurred Cersei on. You couldn't believe she was capable of getting this wet and dripping before until your fingers entered her with ease, with no resistance of whatsoever, her tight and warm cunt desperately sucking your fingers inside her.

"Yes, yes, Y/n, yes!" Cersei whimpered as she pulled you closer, if it was even possible to pull you closer.

And if the Dornish guards had heard another sound, they'd ignore and let you two had your ways. Because there was no way no one could not hear how loud the Queen Mother was as she came, her body trembling. The table screeched against the cobbled floor from the movement.

Once she came down from her high, Cersei pulled you up to her, grabbing the collar of your tunic as she pressed her lips against yours, tasting herself from the kiss. You could feel one of her hands snaking inside your breeches, somehow managing to quickly untie the knots with one hand.

You moaned into the kiss, feeling the wonderful warmth of the woman's hand stroking your hardening shaft. "I miss this," Cersei whispered, pulling away. "I miss you."

The genuine tone of adoration from the Lannister woman made you fall in love with her more. "I miss you too, my Queen." The term of endearment brought a smile to her face.

Cersei was already lining your cock into her entrance before you plunged it right in. The action made the both of you break from the kiss, groaning as her nails dug into the skin of your back.

Beginning a slow rhythm, you rested your forehead against hers, eyes staring into each other. She grabbed your face for another kiss, her other hand reaching your ass as she cupped it and pulled you closer and deeper. It made you lean back and change the pace, thrusting relentlessly.

You laid her spread down on the table as you pushed into her between her legs without stopping. She arched her back and threw her head against the wood, hands reaching any item within reach just to ground herself.

Then she looked back at you as she whimpered. "I want to see you. I want to see you, Y/n." Her hands were already opening your tunic and once done, she cupped and squeezed your breasts, making you moan from the action.

"Cersei."

Her eyes were full of lust that you found yourself nearly there, your thrusts getting sloppier and sloppier each second. You leaned your body forward, on top of her and kissed her to cover her louder moans. Hands on your hair, she pulled you back from her as she looked into you. "I want to see you come undone before me," she requested with a soft whimper.

Cersei's face contorted in pleasure before you with a piercing focused gaze made you lose it as you spilled into her, thick ropes of cum spurted inside her throbbing cunt that was greedily milking you. The sight of you coming on top of her, moaning and grunting your release, made the Queen lose her own composure. A strangled moan made its way out of her throat as she hugged you, burying her head into your neck while her cunt squeezed and devoured your cock as she convulsed.

"Y/n . . . Y/n." Both of your cum leaked inside her, stuffing her full. The feeling made the pleasure last longer as she held unto you, whimpering into your ear.

And it was such a wonderful melody.

~~~

"I know you're mad after what we've discussed with your father," Oberyn said, holding a lit torch as you delved further into the dark.

With the deafening sound from the rushing waterfall, no one would notice two individuals such as yourselves creeping inside a secret entrance to one of the deepest caves in Sunspear. As a kid, somehow you had stumbled on such place while swimming with your friends, competing who could jump from such a high peak where the water meets the ground. You almost drowned that day, but you remembered being rescued by a scaly crocodile. No one believed you that time.

When you only gave Oberyn silence as you followed his trail, he sighed. "I heard news from the castle you've been very busy with the Dowager Queen. You got to be careful, Y/n."

"I am careful," you spat back. "As you always never fail to remind me every single day."

"Doran changed his mind," he said, making you glance at him in confusion. "He now believes marrying his son to the young lioness would secure Dorne's place in the Kingdom. I had no idea how Tywin had managed to convince my brother. But Doran's been cautioning us to stop whatever the seven hells we were doing. He even intercepted Varys' ravens coming in and out of Sunspear. The Sands are starting a rebellion in the open desert upon hearing the news. Ellaria was frustrated. I am telling you, Y/n, you are the only one string holding us together to bend the knee to Queen Daenerys."

"What happens now?"

You both continued to walk in silence, crawling against uneven slippery surface only ignited by the torch carried by Oberyn. Then he paused, looking down what seemed to be an empty chasm before he looked at you, nudging ahead.

"Are you mental? Is this my punishment?"

Oberyn rolled his eyes, as he then pulled you. "Don't be a fool." You turned towards him as he said, "Don't forget to breathe though."

You gave him a scornful look before letting yourself fall back towards the dark hole. Cold water hit your body the moment you were submerged. Catching breath, you heard splashing next to you with Oberyn grunting. "I'm too old for diving."

Chuckling, you swam towards the nearest bank and brushed the wet hair from your face. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness, all you could see was a large chamber ahead, even larger than the Sept of Baelor in King's Landing.

"You know, your mother didn't only give you to us before she left for Dragonstone," he started, shaking off the water from his boots. "You came with something, a shiny scaly egg. Something that hasn't been in existence in Westeros for quite some time."

You heard chains unrolling from a distance, making you look back at the darkness ahead, your hand at the sheath of your dagger.

"It hatched when you turned seven," Oberyn went on, panting as he climbed towards a high cliff, ushering you to follow him. "Only a few trusted Sands knew about its existence, doing their best to feed it, to take care of it. Goats it's favorite. Ever wondered why there's a whole pasture of goats at the end of Sunspear. It wasn't just any merchant's animal farm."

You heard a growl so deep and unnatural in this world, the hairs at the back of your neck stood. You unsheathed your dagger, not sure whether it could help your case, but Oberyn held you back as he shook his head no. "There's a reason why your guardian father hired someone from the Citadel to teach you some old High Valyrian because it only understands that language."

From the faint light coming from the cave's ceiling, you could see a shadow move before you, making you wary. It was only until you were face to face with the beast did you manage to figure out that your hunches were right. You had only seen them on paintings, on some pages from old books. But if you could talk to the painters or the publishers, you'd ask them why they never tell anyone how huge and terrifying an actual beast looked like.

You stood frozen, your dagger falling to the ground when the creature snorted a smoky breath your way, leaning forward towards you as if smelling you. You had so many questions but no words seemed to come out. Then it took a step back, a light visible in its throat before it came out from its mouth, blowing huge flames towards the ceiling, lighting the whole cave.

It was a full sized dragon, so huge it would cover the entire Red Keep. The dragon had distinguishing silver rough scales, long talons and metallic gray wings, its tail looked like spikes with ends as sharp as spearheads.

"Y/n, meet Nymeros." Oberyn's voice made you realize you were still there and that it wasn't some dream or imagination. The beast leaned forward once again, even closer than before as it gently nudged its head against your body, making you nervously gasp. Your trembling hands reached towards its snout, a smile forming slowly on your face when it closed its eyes from your touch.

"I think it's time for you to learn how to ride a dragon."

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

I truly appreciate your continued support in reading my stories. You can help me create more stories by supporting my writing thru this link.

Thank you so much ❤🥰

[delicrieux]

…TAKING WHAT’S NOT YOURS ! ⋆｡°✩

⋆⭒˚.⋆ chapter summary. spending a week taking care of fushiguro... how bad could that be?

pairing. gojo satoru x f!sorcerer reader warnings for this chapter. swearing wc. 5.2k author’s note. in this story, we use first names in text when reader feels emotionally connected to the person xoxo and that's on stylistics

ੈ ✩‧₊˚

masterlist | buy me coffee☕ | twny masterlist | < back | next >

CHAPTER 10: fushiguro megumi's week-long suspension

“i can’t believe it has come to this…” you utter, squint, and try seeing past the unrelenting glare of the july sun. gojo, always nearby, kicks a pebble, looking much more like an elementary kid rather than the one you are going to pick up.

moody, blushing, shoulders slouched and head hung; he says nothing because he tried saying something five minutes ago when you repeated yourself, but a sharp look and a displeased pinch of your lips made him promptly shut up. where was this deference when he was making your life a living hell while you begged him to leave you alone? at this point, you might tell him to jump and he’d land on pluto, if only you weren’t glaring at him anymore.

you shake your head and tut, “absolutely unbelievable.”

“oh god, please, spare me,” he grumbles, shoving a hand out of his pocket only to offer it to you.

you examine it. unappealing, “sweaty.”

the way he instantly scowls at you could be adorable, if you weren’t so irked. your bingo list for the summer, or ever, really, didn’t include attending a parent-teacher conference about an unruly seven year old that’s not even yours. fushiguro megumi keeps breaking toys and beating up his classmates – detention, teacher’s notes (which gojo did not read), extra homework, and a one on one with the parent (which gojo did not attend) did not work. a public trial is all that’s left, and even this would have slipped through gojo’s fingers. the notice arrived a week ago, but gojo neglected to check his email, and he missed the whole of 5 calls before yaga-sensei was informed of his outstanding failure as fushiguro’s legal guardian.

you shake your head again, almost closing your eyes – it’s too bright and too hot, and you think you hear the sidewalk sizzling, and maybe this is one of those days you shouldn’t be outside at all, “still can’t believe it…”

you wouldn’t be doing your duty as a concerned citizen if you weren’t even attempting to guilt-trip him into oblivion. you had plans today anyway, namely melting into your mattress or heaving by the conditioner, but he has ruined them all by asking you to come along. why didn’t you just say no? maybe because he looked especially miserable.

maybe because…

*

"here, give me that," your fingers curl over his tie, straightening the knot and smoothing it out. the inside of fushiguro’s school is thankfully cool, "is this really necessary though?"

"how do i look?"

"well...good?" your answer doesn't satisfy him much because he reaches for his hair and runs a hand, as if that will do him any favors. it doesn't. you wince and adjust the strands.

"like a respectable adult?" he is still wearing his shades, a necessary evil in the afternoon sun, even within these pale walls.

"that's a stretch."

he frowns, "not helping. the hell, i dressed nicely and everything,"

"not sure how a tie and an untucked shirt is 'nice' exactly, but okay,"

"you are so bossy," gojo has a small, pitiable expression on his face, and he's got it bad. he'd better; there's a ton of disgruntled parents lining the corridor of the conference room, and though this doesn't involve you in the least, they stare a little too hard as if you're the problem. you find you can't meet anyone's gaze directly.

"anyway," you squeeze his forearm, which feels nice – soft, his muscles yielding under the fabric – "keep it together,"

he doesn't, really, "this blows.”

"will you keep it together?"

"you're going in with me," his knuckles rap a rapid, anxious beat over his knee. he is seated and not happy, and you can't help noticing how big he is compared to the other men milling in the room, but most of all, how stupid and incompetent. it makes your heart patter in your chest.

"didn't agree to that. why do i have to?"

"because," he glares, "i'll tell them you're the mom."

he's lost it. your arms cross and your brow flattens. you take a few seconds to regard him before giving your answer.

"satoru, don’t they know you're, like, a step-dad?"

"i'm the dad that stepped up."

"seriously?"

"technicality."

"you pay the utility bills," you whisper back, annoyed.

"i'll tell them it's your biological child if you don't go in with me," he threatens.

the tips of his ears have turned a telltale pink, and even he notices, ducking his head and leaning further against the wall. when his leg won't stop bobbing, and he keeps the nervous tapping going, your heart sinks, "satoru," he really has you hook, line, and sinker, because you falter faced with his obvious distress. you didn't expect him to be this nervous, since he's always so carefree, "you..." he looks so very uncomfortable and unhappy in his white button up, which is a bit crumped, mind you, "oh, what the hell. fine."

"thank god."

the faculty makes an appearance, but not one person recognizes him. a brief discussion and introductions later, the room is emptied save the offended parents, the teacher, you, and gojo.

adults can be scary, but your job involves cursed spirits, and those are much scarier than a disgruntled salaryman will ever be.

what is more terrifying than a cursed spirit or a perturbed father trying to lynch gojo with his glare is a scorned mother. you try to not shrink into yourself as she points an accusing finger, as if you've committed the crime alongside fushiguro, "explain yourselves! what kind of parenting is this!?"

if you were sweating before, well, now you're really sweating. you and gojo share a quick, worried glance before the faculty intervenes to give an account of fushiguro. she must have some kind of hearing impairment because she yells, "young parents these days, treating their children so dismissively!"

it would be highly unadvisable and probably a very bad idea to mention the circumstances by which gojo is legally fushiguro's ward, or the fact that he's neither your biological son nor your son at all, and luckily, gojo is smart enough not to disclose any of that. no, what he says is so much worse, "i can assure you that we provide all the attention and care in the world for our son!"

it takes your mind a second to fully comprehend that, yes, he has, in fact, said 'we' and 'son' in the same sentence, and then his hand comes to clutch and yank you painfully over so that you're sitting half on the edge of his chair, "tell her!"

and the room falls deadly quiet for a few moments, which you use wisely to consider: first, kicking gojo right where it counts, and second, bolting for the nearest exit.

the silence is stifling, "err... yes, we take care of him."

"are you even out of college?!" the woman is flaring red with anger.

this isn't exactly your proudest moment, or his, and you can feel your legs shake, and how is it possible that gojo's arm, slung around your waist, is steady and strong, "we're not, but we're, we’re doing the best we can."

when the hell did you become so willing to dive into danger for a man? you'd never met such a troublemaker, and yet, here you are, listening to gojo tell the concerned parent in a voice far more confident than it had been just seconds ago, "you need not concern yourself, ma'am. we take care of megumi every single day and provide a nurturing, homey, and responsible environment for him. and we also love him very much. he and his sister. which we love. right, dear?"

and that’s your cue, “yes. my children. very well behaved.”

"he broke my son's nose!"

"did he deserve it?" gojo quips.

"no!"

he sighs. you eye the door longingly.

"i'll pay the medical bills."

*

the heat's less severe when you leave. a suspension.

with fushiguro safe and collected from his classes, the three of you stroll back to jujutsu technical. gojo lets him lead and you lag, half embarrassed, a third disinterested, and two thirds disheartened that you're now seriously involved with someone like gojo satoru, that this is your life. god, that whole experience was so bad, and his word vomit was the cherry on the shittiest cake you've had in a long time.

you are still, quite frankly, mortified. you know that gojo was talking out of his ass because explaining the real situation would actually make it look even worse than a case of young and stupid parents, but it somehow unnerved you greatly.

this is none of your concern. or it shouldn't be, at the very least. but it's making you consider the distant future and wrangle with the question of – do you want to get married? do you want to have children? such a line of thinking is unacceptable for many reasons, namely that you don't, and you're young, and you'd rather not die with any false hopes in place, because it's likely you'll never reach past your mid-20s and be with someone you actually would want to start a family with.

the city is hazy and humid, the people around appear sluggish. a vendor sells a bunch of sweet watermelons by the street. gojo stops to buy some slices for the three of you, and fushiguro accepts his reluctantly.

then, he marches onward, gloomy as always.

"megumiiiin," and gojo is right on his tail, wiggling his fingers in what's supposed to be an invitation, "let's hold hands."

"no."

"come on, i got you a week-long vacation," he insists.

"it's a suspension!" you hiss, chewing.

gojo glances back. shrugs, "eh."

fushiguro drags his feet, his chin tucked into the front of his uniform's collar, black bangs shifting messily and sticking over his eyes, "m'not apologizing."

"don't, you got good aim," gojo says wisely.

fushiguro offers gojo nothing else to say. the awkward and mortifying experience is, for him, nonexistent. he doesn't know what happened behind those doors, and he shouldn't to preserve his innocence.

for the remainder of the walk, he trudges forward without uttering another word, or without once turning back. the way he's sulking and putting distance between you, however, makes the unpleasant feeling linger a bit longer than it should, though there's really nothing you can do.

once he's already making his way to his temporary lodging, you call out, "ne, megumi," and his footsteps cease immediately. he turns about and stares expectantly, "do you have any plans for tomorrow?"

"...no."

gojo watches you with sharp interest as you try not to bend under the pressure of both of their gazes, "well," you try, sounding a bit shy, "in that case, would you like to go shopping with me? i could use the company."

silence. the awkwardness from the earlier meeting hangs heavy, until fushiguro seems to recover and crosses his arms, mouth set a little firmly, "i have to finish my homework."

what a horrible excuse.

"we could visit the arcade and get slushies," you say, feeling a bit more confident since he seems to be cracking.

he narrows his eyes, considering his options. then, with a very pronounced scowl, "is he going?"

gojo perks, having been slouching listlessly with a grimace, "oh! me? sure, i'll be there," he even beams, the prick, while fushiguro gives him a deadpan stare.

"oh, no no," you try to rectify quickly, "satoru isn't going," and you jab your elbow into his side, sunny smile and all, "you're busy tomorrow, remember?"

gojo frowns. then he pouts. then, he looks annoyed. but finally, he looks away and says, "yeah, right. i am. totally forgot. so busy."

"figured," fushiguro hums, shrugs a little and says, "sure."

"awesome," you grin, feeling somehow very lucky, "it's a date!"

"not a date!" gojo declares.

fushiguro stomps through the door, his entire demeanor shifting entirely from apathetic to downright irritated, muttering, "you two are weird."

and then he's gone. the door creaks shut behind his small frame.

"it's a date?" gojo parrots, giving you a look.

"oh, don't be mad. it's just fun teasing him," you smile a little sheepishly, tugging him along to the direction of your dorm room.

he matches your pace, steps becoming slower. his arm is warm around your back.

*

“you don’t offer to hang out often,” coming from fushiguro, it sounds less of an observation and more like a thinly veiled accusation. you give pause.

true to your word, you have taken him to get slushies and some light shopping after a stop at the aquarium, which he enjoyed the most because it was quiet and the room felt never-ending.

for a kid, fushiguro is too perceptive, too grumpy, too. you hadn't expected that your presence could be missed, or even desired, since it was so rare to see him when he wasn’t on college grounds. with his sister still at summer camp, he doesn’t have anywhere else to stay. the two of them living alone with semi-regular visits from gojo is already wildly weird and unsafe, and leaving him by himself in the apartment was out of the question.

maybe you should have invited him earlier. he must be so lonely.

"mm. s'always busy with jujutsu studies," you tell him a bit shamefully.

a tic twitches underneath his eye. he finishes his cherry-red drink in two long gulps before taking you up the escalator to his favorite candy store.

you hold his palm. he grips tight but releases hastily as though embarrassed the second the mom and pops duo in their late fifties make a aaaw sound at you two. you almost throw your electric blue slushie at them – the workup to this very moment had been nothing short of arduous. the old man and woman look absolutely infatuated.

you will have to try to sneakily hold his hand again, under the pretenses of safety or whatever, even if you’re fairly certain fushiguro would beat up a kidnapper if it ever came down to it.

he dives straight for the large jar that has the 'bullet gums' printed on the container. he holds it up, and somehow, he's more of a little kid than the angry gremlin he usually is in gojo's presence. you have to battle with yourself to not fish out your phone and snap a million pictures.

"so cute..." you mutter under your breath.

you don't think it reaches his ears until his forehead wrinkles into an offended scowl, but he doesn't say anything as he goes on picking and tossing the good ones in his basket.

"how much money do you have?" fushiguro looks at your purse suspiciously.

you’re a bit affronted – maybe he and gojo do have a lot more in common than anyone would suspect, because this child has just called you poor.

"ehh, don't worry,” maybe you should be worried for the future generation and their manners, “satoru gave me his card, so you can buy anything you want.”

fushiguro scowls. he sets down the bulging bag on the floor beside him, and looks away from you, "...i don't want anything."

you blink and peer at the selection of items. it will likely be a hefty sum, but nothing too egregious. fushiguro picked his candy with care, and you note that it’s mostly sour things.

“but it looks tasty,” you say, and you mean it, even if you prefer sugar on sugar atop liquid sugar.

“no.”

you ponder for a second what might have made him so upset so suddenly. you hum. time for some mathematics. fushiguro hates gojo, gojo is sponsoring this outing, which, maybe, somehow equals fushiguro wanting to spend time with gojo, hence, fushiguro is grumpy and probably wants to go home.

you feel like 2 + 2 = 5 since you’ve uncovered one more piece of information.

well, this is a problem. you raise an eyebrow. how does one deal with an upset seven year old? you think you’ve been doing good so far, but it’s only because fushiguro was in a good mood and somehow tolerable of your presence. suppose you'll have to play by his rules. suppose you can do that, or at the very least try.

slowly, you take the bag. then, you extend your hand to him, "we could try maxing out satoru's card – doesn't that sound fun?"

he furrows his brow and looks like he's having a bad idea. slowly, hesitantly, his tiny palm comes to land in yours, fingers slotting, and then you are both making your way to the counter.

the next spot you visit is a bookstore.

"do you like reading?" you inquire curiously.

a shrug. you assume he's shy, so you let it pass, instead picking up a few manga. they seem popular these days, and maybe you’ll actually have some free time to read it before missions swamp you and you’re off to battle curses in the muggy heat.

meanwhile, fushiguro chooses a coloring book and a plethora of new, shiny markers.

"looks cool," you say.

"yeah," he agrees, and he seems happy. you would really like to take a picture right about now, but you swipe gojo’s credit card instead. you and fushiguro share a pleased look.

when you visit the food court, it’s already buzzing.

"let's get something to eat," you suggest. he nods, "pizza?"

"yes please."

you notice him getting a bit anxious when a large group of people move in front of the two of you, and without a word, your push him closer to your body as you shield him. he stiffens, but doesn't ask you to let go, and leans his head into the comfort.

that's sweet. too sweet. you resist the urge to melt down. god, this kid is growing on you like fungus. you can't believe how happy you are to be spending time with him. that this is actually happening, and you're not imagining any of it. you almost regret not doing this sooner. you feel stupid for being scared and skipping out before.

you might even, and this you find startling, put yourself through the whole ordeal with the parent-teacher conference again. only this time, you might be the one screaming and pointing fingers. what a cute kid.

when the person in front of you finally vacates a table, you squeeze into the tight space, but not before flagging down the server.

"is it just me, or does today feel like a celebration?" you ask him in the attempt of stirring conversation.

his bored eyes wander around, perhaps not finding the occasion anything special or remarkable. but then, with a nod, he says, "i guess."

that's as much enthusiasm as he's going to allow himself to show, and that is completely fine, you decide. you don't need him to pretend for the sake of pleasing you. you're just happy to be here, and you can't wait to tell gojo all about this in great detail. he'll be so jealous.

*

yes, gojo can get any michelin star meal delivered within the hour if he’s persistent and snooty enough. he might also be able to import something from korea in the timeframe it took you to decide on what to eat if fushiguro so much as implored he wanted anything. the real problem is that fushiguro does not want to eat anything touched by gojo’s hands or credit card – the outing being the only exception, as that was done with malicious intent to scam gojo out of more money than was necessary – and you think it’s not healthy to have a growing kid survive on the instant noodles and snacks you purchase from the convenience store.

the cafeteria food is alright, but it, too, lacks the nutrition needed for strong bones and a healthy immune system. you also were unable to find the allergens or a basic ingredients list on the food served there, and the cooks you inquired were suspiciously tight-lipped about it, which only left you pondering about what exactly you have been eating for the past three years.

that, and fushiguro seems to be missing his sister lately, who, apparently, made him food, or made food alongside him, but your newfound big sister instincts send you into a frenzy even imagining this child next to a sharp knife. he is way too independent. when you think of yourself being his age, you think your childhood was much more carefree.

a homecooked meal it is. only problem is that you’re not a great cook, and whatever you made you could only serve yourself because it was just mediocre enough to teeter on the scale of enjoyment, if it could be called that.

still, you were wrestled into an apron by a pest named gojo satoru, who dons a matching one but avoids the pots and pans and stays by the television with fushiguro, as he was made aware that whatever he touches will be promptly thrown into the trash.

you chop, and stir, and haughtily avoid the counter where you were propped up to be devoured by the same man throwing his head back and cackling at some painfully unfunny late night tv show. you catch your reflection in the sharp blade of a knife and pause for a moment.

so this is my life now, huh?

as expected, neither the presentation nor the actual food is up to fushiguro’s standards. it’s evident by the way he skeptically pokes the mess on his plate with his fork. the noodles are too crisp, the broccoli – burned. you might’ve gone overboard with the seasoning, and yes, you can wrangle a curse into submission, but you cannot prepare a decent dinner.

you wait for the verdict with your hands curled into your apron, like some maid about to be scolded by a temperamental prince.

when a minute passes of just examination, you thread carefully, “ne,” fix your best smile, tilt your head to the side even – this is beyond humiliating. nothing gojo has put you through could ever amount to the small curl of queasiness on fushiguro’s mouth, “how about we order food in?”

“i’ll pay!” comes gojo’s enthusiastic agreement. he even waves the remote around, like it’ll summon something delicious on the coffee table just like that.

fushiguro, faced with this unprecedented cheerfulness, stabs his dinner and eats without a word spared.

you stare. no, this can’t be good, you might give him food poisoning, “no, really. let’s order something edible.”

fushiguro chews thoughtfully before he answers, “…it’s edible.”

“liar!” gojo accuses.

“shut up!”

well. it doesn't go too badly, and after a while, gojo puts on a nature documentary as a peace offering, while you wash the dirty dishes and keep sending worried glances to a now placid fushiguro who dutifully finished his meal and has moved on to polishing the bowl clean.

and you can't help the sudden onslaught of fondness that fills you up as the warm water from the sink hits your fingers. this is oddly nice and comforting. it reminds you of the dinners you had back home, only they never were this late and you always pouted when having to wash your plate and utensils.

"eh," you almost drop the soapy spatula; your head ticks to the entrance of the dorm kitchen, and you see shoko leaning by the doorway before the smell of cigarette smoke reaches you. her eyes jump from your apron, to gojo sprawled on the couch, to fushiguro neatly folding a small towel, "feeling a bit left out. what's going on here?"

oh no. you feel your face heat all the way to your forehead. how incriminating, how do you even begin to explain this strange and off-putting development of your relationship with gojo?

maybe you should have told her as soon as it happened, but you didn't know how.

you wanted to, though. each time you meet shoko’s gaze, you had the overwhelming urge to come clean. you can’t phantom how criminals can lie to the police with a straight face, because you’re having significant trouble. what’s worse, it always felt like shoko knew anyway, somehow; that that information breached the kawakami-gojo bubble and bled into the common knowledge pool.

shoko always seemed so suspicious, and in this case, for good reason. now, suppose you don't have to explain anything at all.

gojo points at you with this thumb, "she can't cook for shit, you know that?"

"oh, yes," shoko hums, pleased, "know it too well. i won't need to use reverse on you, will i?"

"nah," he drawls, "think i'd eat that drivel? i'm not suicidal."

"hey!" you bristle.

fushiguro frowns and glares at the tuff of white hair peaking over the back of the couch, "it wasn't so bad."

and your anger vanishes, just like that. your honor has been defended by an seven year old, and now it's just a matter of having to bear with shoko's probing look and the telltale curve in her smile.

"ah, well, if megumi vouches for you, then maybe you've improved," shoko says sagely.

gojo snorts in clear disagreement. fushiguro scrunches his brow and purses his lips.

*

there’s definitely something somewhere written about proper bedtime, but being with fushiguro has made you sentimental about your childhood, and you recalled sneaking around at night to watch tv and having too much energy to sleep, even when you were tucked into your favorite blanket with your favorite stuffed toy under your armpit and read your favorite story.

so you take him to a pastry shop at near closing time, and smile particularly sweetly at the disgruntled cashier who just finished cleaning up. you feel a bit bad, but alas – a tasty treat is a tasty treat, and what is more, everything’s on discount, so you spend a generous amount to make sure fushiguro and you have enough to snack on all the way back to jujutsu tech and then some.

you also got some for gojo, despite how brattish he can be. the only reason he didn’t follow you here is because fushiguro had forbidden it, but even now, you’re not sure if you aren’t being monitored.

fushiguro bites into his colorful fish cookie and chews. the sky is already dimming, but there’s still plenty of people out and about, enjoying their summer. he keeps close, but doesn’t reach for your hand. you hadn’t been able to achieve your initial victory at the start of the week, but maybe you still have some time.

“you’re leaving for a mission,” he says after a pleasant silence, blunt as always. you try remembering if you were this honest when you were his age. certainly, you must’ve been more tactful. when your gaze flits to fushiguro, you find him disgruntled, an expression reminiscent of gojo when he doesn’t get something he wants.

it’s starkly similar, actually. a father that stepped up…

“it’s only for a few days,” you tell him, keeping your voice light in an effort to appease him, “i’ll be back before you know it. with souvenirs, too.”

a tic creases his brow as he seems to give the offer some serious contemplation. a couple of moments pass before, with a sharp huff, he mumbles a sour, "do as you like."

you manage a patient, "look forward to the present, hm?"

he is very stubborn and says nothing but chews with a little more fervor.

"maybe you want something specific? or would surprise be best?"

you hear a short sound of exasperation at that, and a shake of his head.

"no... you can choose, nee-san."

you nearly collapse. fushiguro, no, megumi, megumi hasn't ever been so malleable before; the things this boy has been doing to your heart must be against the law. it’s too precious, and so sweet it makes the glazed cinnamon bun grasped so tightly between your fingers taste bland. how could you ever recover? is it even worth bringing it up? just how much does megumi truly care about you to call you something so tender?

you have to swallow a disgusting ball of coo for the sake of everyone, namely megumi, who seems especially irritated, “…how about a plushy? or a phone accessory? satoru said he bought you a nice new model.”

your efforts do not go unnoticed. there is a gleam in his eyes, and his cheeks flush in pleasure.

"can..." his tone lowers, quiet, almost timid, "can i choose when you're back?"

there isn't a bone in your body strong enough to decline that.

"of course," you smile, "tell me when i should come back and i will."

a pair of small fingers come to grip your sleeve, hesitantly, shyly.

"the sooner, the better," he mumbles, glaring at the sidewalk, "so... be quick."

*

“’s stupid,” gojo grumbles, making himself comfortable on your bed instead of helping you pack your suitcase, “why you needa go, anyway?”

not him, too. christ, why are they ganging up on you?

you sigh, folding a sweater. it’ll likely be too warm to wear it, but you’ll take it just in case, “cuz yaga-sensei told me to?”

“coulda said no,” he answers stubbornly. you pause to stare him down.

if not for the sunglasses, he would be giving you the same look as megumi; a bit less angry, more passive aggressive.

he presses, the smirk fading, a sharp edge to his voice, not quite biting, not yet, "wanna stay and fuck a bit instead?"

god. the word makes your spine crawl with something familiar, or rather, a mix of emotions that is indescribable and difficult to disentangle; something close to exasperated fondness, perhaps.

but you shake your head, the weak protests die out on your lips, and he rolls over, sated, like a cat that had gotten its cream, "...you sure?"

"stop trying to seduce me," you snort, ignoring the lingering glance directed at your back.

"then you'd really miss your train."

"satoru."

"right, right..."

"go be annoying somewhere else."

a heavy exhale. you don't dare to turn because you hear the mattress creak and his footsteps drawing nearer.

the warmth envelops you easily, his hold is lazy, his mouth is by your ear, hot breath sending a shiver up your nape, "mean. and here i am, all ready and eager."

but his fingers linger on the waist of your shorts, just above the material. it's a small touch. noninvasive. you can feel him holding himself back.

"...'s gonna be too cold," gojo continues, quietly. he isn't helping, his nose nudging your hair, a soft kiss pressed below your earlobe, "in bed without you. who will i cuddle now?"

oh, damn him and the things he does and says. and that honey sweet voice of his, teasing you.

but you won't fall for his tricks, "well, it won't be forever. you won't even notice i'm gone."

and he laughs. like he's telling himself not to show his irritation at you dismissing him so easily, "always notice," he mumbles, or maybe he doesn't, because he kisses your cheek one more time before he disentangles and plops down onto the mattress again, "anyway, megumi wants to escort you to the train station, so expect an entourage."

you ponder who would be more clingy: gojo or megumi.

*

it's gojo.

tags (couldn’t tag in bold!). @shokosbunny , @jotarohat , @alygator77 , @fortunatelyfurrygiver , @finnydraws , @mastermasterlist1p1 , @eolivy , @letsmyy , @staruus , @k0z3me , @damnshorty , @kaeyakaikai , @n4melesspers0n , @midnightwriter21 , @sillymercury , @byakuya61085 , @stillnotherapy , @mydearchoso , @plutoisaghoul , @byerno6 , @bqvz , @harryzcherry , @noira-l ,

[ahamkara-apologist]

finally got the chance to draw so I kinda went ham with drawing up a headcanon sheet for the Eliksni, in which I blatantly disregarded the canon skintones and just had fun (i don't really enjoy how pink they are in canon personally- I think they should have more natural colour variation)

Some notes:

-The freckles on Eramis and Variks are just freckles, they're not due to age. As for the alarming amount of minor scratches scarred into Eramis's neck and, to an extent, Misraaks- those are marks from hatchling claws! They're traditionally considered marks of beauty and wisdom in Eliksni society. Eramis has many to mirror her many litters, while Misraaks only has a couple from Eido

-I drew everyone but Taniks bald because I drew Taniks first and then realized later that it kinda obscured my hcs for their individual head shapes, so their setae is on the bottom. Setae is someting that only fully sexually mature adults develop, and is much closer in texture to a horse's mane than human hair. It also runs all the way down the back of their neck, much like a mane, and in some cases (like Taniks) has barbs or hooks along its strands so that ornaments can be woven into it, which is inspiration that I took from decorator crabs

-Eramis's facial scars were given to her by a Guardian at Twilight Gap, and are deep enough that they cut into her nasal cavity. Luckily, it's right near the nostrils anyways so she isn't impacted too bad, but she does have to be careful about keeping it clear of debris. Deep in her eye sockets, she's also had some electrodes installed that link to sensors in her helmet and give her little buzzes/shocks whenever something passes in front of it to help compensate for being half-blind, but it's a pretty crude device that doesn't work all that well on small objects

-Each Eliksni's ethnicity is written below their names, which is why Eido has a question mark. She's a mixed kid- try to guess which Houses her parents might have been from ::3

-The horns/shoulder spines were extra spikes of mineralized chitin that were common on adults in Riis, and were traits that were lost during the Drift. They often were calcium/mineral stores used to show age and fitness, but since resources in Sol are scarce, they no longer grow during molts. Riisborn Eliksni still have horn nubs, but that's about it

-As for the sexual dimorphism thing: that's more just me musing about how slight it would be with my hcs about their reproduction (which involves females laying fertilized eggs into a specialized broodpouch in the male, who then builds on their yolk supply and gives them the calcium needed to form eggshells, and thus needs to be bigger). When given actual Eliksni with a natural range of bodily variation, it would be near-impossible to distinguish them

[mswyrr]

kanthony thoughts: rivals to lovers done right

I usually prefer Enemies to Lovers to Rivals to Lovers. What is the difference I see there, you might ask? Enemies are on opposite sides of a serious, life and death conflict, and rivals have issues with each other, but their rivalry takes place within the realm of everyday life. For me, I can forgive bad behavior within a serious conflict more easily than if the Rivals to Lovers couple goes over the top in a less serious situation.

I said all that to say: Kanthony is Rivals to Lovers done right. Below are the reasons I see for why.

1- The writers keep putting them in situations where everyone around them is feeling competitive - horse racing, the yearly Bridgerton pall-mall game, the hunt. If everyone around them has their blood up and is vying with each other, it's understandable that the situation brings out the competitive energy and Belligerent Sexual Tension they're both feeling for each other. They don't seem to be going over the top because of some inner excessive pettiness; they're caught up in the spirit of the thing and it's unleashing their repressed feelings for each other.

2- They are both competitive but also "good sports" - they conduct themselves honorably in these scenarios. No cheating, no getting too personal in their swipes at each other. They both love to compete and to win and hate to lose and they're bubbling over with repressed passion for each other, but they'll accept defeat without being childish or over the top mean. They maintain a sense of perspective, even when they're being passionate.

3- Their banter is either sincere or appropriately artful. Example: at the soiree, after Kate hears Anthony talking about ladies as chattels to the other men, she takes a huge risk in confronting him about it- this is a very rich and powerful man and she is a smart person, she knows keeping her secrets close is the safest and best way to do things in her situation. But she cares about him and hates that he'd talk like that - so she speaks up. She longs to connect with him, to understand why he could say such a thing. For his part, he cares that she's so hurt by what he said, he cares about her opinion of him. They matter to each other. This is the "sincerity" category of banter.

Kate saves her sharpest words for when they're alone, communicating two things (1) she likes this man enough that she's willing to risk being alone with him and tell him her truth and (2) he's eager to interact to the point of being willing to take that from her. He's willing to say "why do you hate me?" and truly want to earn her good opinion.

The other kind of banter, the appropriately artful kind, is told indirectly through the competitive games they play. For example: at the horse race she uses talking about horses--and how Anthony has simply chosen the one everyone is choosing--to criticize him for seemingly choosing Edwina simply because the Queen has named her the diamond of this season. But their byplay is all indirect - neither is aiming to wound or publicly humiliate the other. They want to win, but not destroy.

Good "Screwball Comedy" era films (1930s-40s) did Rivals to Lovers this way too - the couple would banter *over something* with subtext going harder but the surface not being too personal - that's the art to good Rivals to Lovers, the delicate balance. It can't feel too much, too mean, or too little.

4 - They are quick to have empathy and compassion for each other. They try to truly listen and see things from each other's point of view. The best example of this, to me, is the end of the pall-mall game - sure, they've been competitive. But Kate shares that she sees herself as a guardian for Edwina, like Anthony is for his sisters. And Anthony not only respects that - he says he sincerely wishes to earn her good favor. For her part, when her parting shot of the ball goes awry, landing near Anthony's father's grave, Kate senses something wrong and cares - she tries to understand how Anthony is feeling and why. She regrets if she "crossed the line" and went too personal - she's aware there IS a line and their rivalry doesn't justify wounding him deeply, even unintentionally. Anthony treats her with the same consideration as well.

This point is VITAL to cross from rivals to lovers - they both want to understand and have compassion and empathy for each other. As they learn more and connect more, the rivalry part wanes (though they'll always love being competitive together - in a sportsmanlike way!) and the desire to connect and understand intensifies. It feels organic as the shift happens because both components have been part of things all along - the urge to compete and the urge to care and understand.

5- They are explicitly paralleled as similar people who have hurt the same way (and tried to cope with that pain similarly). This is true of my favorite EtL ships: the baddie is often symbolically representing part of the goodie or a dark mirror of them etc. RtL often foregoes this so the rival is, like... just some random jerk?? But when they're mirrors or connected on a deeper level, compassion and empathy for the other is compassion and empathy for themselves too - vitally important with two people who don't "listen" to their own hearts like Kate and Anthony. They've buried them deep - but they can "hear" by listening to each other and caring. They can process their own feelings that way and learn self-compassion and self expression.

It's really good and if more Rivals to Lovers was done this well I'd love it! The writing here is certainly a template I'd turn to for inspiration if I ever write an RtL pairing.

[still-a-morosexual-help]

Love any moment when Mammon decides to step up and be the responsible one, because not only does it show that he is capable of it but it also shows exactly why he's the one Lucifer trusts when he wants something done.

His carefree attitude is just as much a choice as it is part of his personality

Plus like with this Nightbringer chat, I saw the name of the chat and the first three profile pics and thought "okay so this will be an adults vs kids" chat with Simeon & Lucifer being the two adults and Mammon & someone else being the kids - because usually Mammon's grouped with the other "kids" (While MC jumps between the "adults" and "kids" group). Except the chat was really about Simeon, Lucifer and Mammon all getting together to complain about the younger brothers

Simeon and Lucifer both agree that when it comes down to it Mammon fits in more with "common sense" than "brats"

And it makes sense that there'd be a chat where the three of them talk about how to handle the others because they've known each other since before Levi was even created and each of them have taken on parental/guardian roles in regards to the rest of the brothers and/or other characters.

Overall, Mammon's the young, fun uncle who spends most of the time during the family reunion goofing off with the kids and accidentally knocking over an entire table of food but in spite of this he's also responsible enough to make sure the kids don't kill each other or themselves during the whole day, and he's old enough to get buzzed with the Adult - adults (aka the adults who raised him and actually know what rent and taxes are)

Bonus because;

The steampunk devilgram also has a great moment of showing how competent Mammon really is despite the fact that he had to be dragged in kicking and screaming to get the job done. In this case it was how much MC & Beel had to force him to guard the airship/give a tour of it and how much he complained about it right up to the point where he had no choice but to do it and then instantly he's in "hyper-competent tour guide" mode

[ask-the-archs]

Hello, my little travellers, it’s been a while since you’ve heard from me directly… or do I call you my questiers? It is so hard to remember at times… ah, no matter. It has been a while since you both have been conscious, so maybe now it is time for you to awaken…

🔆Who are you?🔆

I am me, the person behind the words on a screen that makes your stories. Though I have stories of my own that I live through, so I am not the end, nor can anyone truly be the end, nor should they.

🔆But why us? Why me?🔆

Because it was not meant to be your ends, not permanently, at least. In all honesty, I needed a break from writing your quests, your stories, your good and bad times.

I am sure that you, Apollo, will remember those times when things didn’t quite make full sense, not coherently, at least.

I am sure that you remember a time when you were called differently, and did not correct anyone for a long time.

I am sure that you remember parents who only loved you after you died.

I am sure that you remember inventing life in your own way, with Sionnach, Ean and even Flicker.

I am sure that you remember what happened up until it all stopped. Up until your world, your version of existence ground to a halt.

🔆I… how do you… what about them?🔆

They will not remember anything from before this, a blessing and a curse. They have not had rest for as long as you in their infinitely longer existence. Not that that is wholly not my fault, but sometimes the words on a screen become animated into something slightly more than just characters. You change and morph and move into your own beings, and tend to gain the attention of more beings on my level of existence.

“Why do you care what happens to us?”

You are my stars come to life, your stories are based in truths I have experienced, and truths others have experienced. Your pain, joy, grief, suffering, sadness and everything else are all based in some truths.

I care because you are mine, your stories, your very existence is mine to tell and twist and rework.

I care because I am one of the beings watching over your universe and I created you both out of love, to give love.

I care because I am the one who gave you life as you knew it, and the one who took your lives away to give your souls a break.

I care because you are light itself, the guidance and the bringer of day respectively.

I care because you are yourselves, and that, in itself, is enough for me to care for you.

“But what if you’re wrong?”

What do you think I am wrong about, little travelling questier?

“What if I fail at all you said is my fate?”

Then I am wrong, and you fail. There is nothing wrong with failing, it means you tried.

But the universe truly loves you, little travelling questier.

🔆But what of me? Is anything as I once knew it to be?🔆

Some things have stayed similar, though you will be interacting with new people more often than not. The universe is cruel, even to the ones it loves, but it does also love you, Apollo.

There are some things that neither of you will be able to understand just yet, and there will be memories that remain just out of reach for both of you.

“Both of us?”

Yes, both of you, bright star.

“Why are you calling me that?”

You are the personification of the first star of the night, the star of guidance and hope, but you are also called many other things. Gabriel is one of them, in the universe you are from.

“What gained me that name?”

You are the hero of your god, which gave you that for a name. It is a good name because you are a good person.

“What makes me a person, let alone a good one?”

Because you are words on a screen.

Because you are actions in a world that you made your own.

Because you are alive and dead and nothing and everything.

You are a person because you exist as you are and as you were, and you are good because you are you.

You are the first star of the night, the orienter and guider, the guardian of all of those who happen to be in your radius. You are Gabriel.

But when you awaken, you will not remember who you used to know, who you used to love. You will not remember your partner or parent or siblings or family, you will not even remember you had such a thing.

🔆Is that not mean? For them to know they had all of that but not remember?🔆

It is as it is, my questier.

🔆How come they get a nickname beyond that?🔆

Because you have moved far beyond the base title I gave you as a nerdy questier, and because they will always remain a traveller at heart, even when they are unable to act on it.

But now, it has been long enough that I have held you away from your world, your lives, your journeys.

Now, you are both going to be alive, and you are not going to be the same as you were.

Now, you know that the universe loves you, and that you are loved.

Now, you are aware that you are words on a screen.

Now, you are aware that your lives, your words, your thoughts and feelings and actions, are being watched over by many of my friends.

Now, you are going to awaken and find a new normal, away from the maker of your quests.

.

.

.

Wake Up.

.

.

.

*Two figures of light, one completely white, while the other is made of a rainbow of colours, but mainly blue and green, appear in Lucifer’s throne room.*

(Open RP starter!

@aspenvelaz , @king--of--ducks , @the-very-nerdy-blogger , @the-0verseer-watches , @penguinmaster9999 , @headlessdeaddancer , @featheryhoe , @bigdoginthesky )

(🔆Apollo🔆 can be found @apollo-and-co )

[maaarine]

The sexual assault of sleeping women: the hidden, horrifying rape crisis in our bedrooms (Anna Moore, The Guardian, June 15 2021)

"Naming specific acts, rather than using broad – and loaded – terms such as “abuse” or “rape”, her survey asked more than 22,000 women if, for example, they had ever been spat at, or strangled, kicked or bitten.

It also asked respondents if they had ever woken to their male partner having sex with them or performing sex acts on them while they slept.

To this question, 51% answered yes.

This was not randomised sampling – the survey was widely shared online and participants were self-selected. For this reason, it’s hard to extrapolate from the findings.

The results sparked a predictably polarised online response. “This was extremely validating for me after years of thinking, ‘Am I being raped?’ I’m not alone”, tweeted one woman.

“It’s why I now jerk awake if someone even gently brushes against me while I’m sleeping, 13 years later,” wrote another.

Other comments included, “Only chance I get!” and “the other half was OK with it!”

Katie Russell, spokesperson for Rape Crisis, says she was “not massively surprised” by the findings.

“There isn’t a lot of research into the multiple ways women experience violence from known men, but we do know the numbers are so much higher than any official statistics,” she says.

“Rape myths are still incredibly pervasive. It’s commonly believed that if it’s your boyfriend or your spouse, if you’re sharing a bed, if you’re naked, if you consented earlier, then it can’t be rape.

There is a really big difference between gently waking your partner and initiating sexual activity and actually doing something sexual or penetrating someone while they’re still asleep. (…)

In Martha’s case, the rape happened once, but for some men, seeking sex with a sleeping woman is an active preference, a fetish known as somnophilia.

Svein Overland, a Norwegian psychologist, is one of the few to have studied it – his interest sparked partly by his work in prisons, trying to understand the motivations of sex offenders, and also by his work with victims of what Norwegians call “after-party rapes” – attacks on vulnerable women who were either sleeping or drugged.

Overland believes somnophilia is part of the wider growth of what he calls “one-way sex”.

His research into online porn showed a steep rise over the past decade in categories such as “sleeping sex”, as well as other forms of sex that are based on unresponsiveness, on only meeting your own needs.

(“Flexi dolls” is another example – where women pretend to be sex dolls.)

These preferences overlap with porn itself, says Overland. “With one-way sex, with porn, with masturbation, there’s no dance, no seduction, no interaction and no pressure to perform,” he says.

“The more I looked at this area, the more you see that a lot of men are afraid of having sex.

Society is becoming more pornified but, at the same time, many studies show that people are becoming less sexually active. We have young men buying Viagra, unable to keep an erection.”

A sleeping woman is no threat – she’s absent, an object, a receptacle. (…)

“There seems to be a perception that something like this is a ‘lesser crime’ because it might not be at the hands of a stranger but your partner.

But what would feel worse? Being pickpocketed by a stranger or robbed by someone you love and trust?” she asks.

“The idea that you’re asleep so it didn’t require violence is also very dangerous. Penetrating someone’s body without their permission is an inherently violent act.

“Imagine being asleep and waking to find someone going through your personal things,” she continues. “Now imagine it’s your actual body that has been intruded into.” (…)

“When I first left him, I wouldn’t sleep. I’d lie awake all night and have hallucinations – him raping me.

Those flashbacks, that trauma response, was the mind and body trying to piece things together.

Even now, nine years on, I still wake at two every morning. I don’t even need to check the clock.

We know that the body stores memories of trauma – and I think 2am is when it used to happen.” (…)

In February 2020, she told the jury: “There has never been a part of me that has not been profoundly impacted,” and that in the immediate aftermath, she suffered PTSD and had tried to take her own life.

She said she had felt “unsafe everywhere”, frightened to trust anyone, even her parents."