#i think this is outstandingly good

[abirdie]

Gael García Bernal in Si tu voyais son cœur (2017, dir. Joan Chemla)

(These gifs also feature Nahuel Pérez Biscayart and Marine Vacth)

Gifs are all 540px wide so you can click to see larger.

[other gael filmography gifsets]

[flowercrowngods]

they tell you about school and they tell you about work and they tell you about taxes and responsibilities and ideals you have to reach. they don’t tell you about baking chocolate cookies from scratch at the ungodly hours of 11 at night and sitting on your kitchen floor while watching a home decor competition show while you get to munch on a cookie that tastes like the hot chocolate you used to make when you needed a reason to live as a teenager. they don’t tell you about getting to eat another cookie while you think about capturing this moment in a mason jar and shipping it through time to your younger self who gets scared so easily by school and work and taxes and responsibilities and ideals. your younger self who wonders if there’s still comfort, still good things, and if you get to claim them for yourself at some point or if comfort is always a question of dependence. they don’t tell you about that, when for years we do nothing but dream about moments like these

[microwave-prince]

I HAD A THING I WANTED TO TALK ABOUT IT YESTERDAY BUT THEN FORGOT BUT THEN I REMEMBERED AND I STILL REMEMBER THIS MORNING AND IM SO HAPPY.

Okay okay, I don't know how lengthy this might get so just bear with me here. Worse case scenario I put it all under a read more haha!

So, as I've mentioned on this blog a bit, I've been getting into roman history and learning Latin and things. I was doing a thing for one of my classes where we were looking up quotes for a project stuff, and me being salty at the time, decided to look up quotes..that were all in Latin. The teacher ended up not minding haha. But, one of the ones I looked up was "Alea iacta est" and there's a few different wordings of it and different rough English translations, one of them(perhaps a more common one) being "the die is cast".

And that SEEMS like nothing too big but, what I didn't know, is they actually had Octavius QUOTE that saying in the Night at The Museum game for the Xbox/Wii(I'll put the clip at the bottom of this post). And it's funny, cause I'm pretty sure the first time I heard him say it, I looked it up! But I don't think I scrolled any further past the definition of the idiom to spot all the mentions of it being originally in Latin/who it was originally said by! Which drives me a bit nuts now cause I swear I remember pondering if he was quoting someone on that cause the way he says it, it sounds like it, but I just never looked further into it. Ah, but we came full circle anyway!

And that just really caught be off gaurd and made me really happy that I was just mindlessly doing some work until I bumped into some random Latin quote and went. HEY. OCTAVIUS SAID THAT.

Look at him. Not enough budget for his actual voice actor and made out of a total whopping ten or so polygons. I do wish they made the crest on his helmet bigger though. Partly cause it would look nicer but also cause roman generals(which he is) normally had bigger crests. And I'm also biased to just overdramatisizing the crest on his helmet hehehaha. I NEVER remember the word crest for it for some reason though!!!

[sar3nka]

If my ex is still looking at my blog then um I'm almost embarrassed that I don't think or post abt him nearly as much as I do about crazy woman I only spent like 3 nights with. Like sorry but those 5 years weren't that impactful really but I was also trying not to die and I don't remember much

[zevranunderstander]

a part of me (the hater part) wants to watch bridgerton season 3, but like the rational part of me knows it's literally such a fucking waste of time

[ineffectualdemon]

Here's the thing

Shen Qingqiu is weird about pretty men and Liu Qingge in particular

And I think it's linked to his own issues with his Shen Yuan identity

Shen Yuan is described by Shen Qingqiu repeatedly as "a useless pretty boy"

And that's very telling. The only positive quality he gives himself as Shen Yuan is his looks as a 'pretty boy' and while he's pleased with his looks as Shen Qingqiu as a good looking man there is also a sense imo that he's glad he's "Lofty Immortal" handsome but not outstandingly beautiful compared to his peers or Luo Binghe

His looks give off "Scholar" and therefore intelligence as well as being good looking.

Shen Qingqiu is good looking but not too good looking if you understand

And that's why I think Liu Qingge was such a shock

Because Liu Qingge is "pretty"

He's outstandingly beautiful

But it's not commented on anywhere in the books. And Shen Qingqiu gets thrown by that specifically. The fact that the War God is known for something other then his looks, for his prowess and skills. Makes Shen Qingqiu kinda angry

Now this is me reading too much into it and is almost certainly a headcanon

But I can imagine a 3rd son who is very pretty being treated like his accomplishments don't matter because he was pretty

That his looks were the first things people said about him and maybe the only thing people praised him for

No it didn't matter that he didn't get top grade on that test. He still has his looks doesn't he?

It probably wasn't even done maliciously

But I can see it wearing down his self worth and sense of self

So Liu Qingge being so beautiful and it not even being commented on in canon must have been infuriating both because that didn't happen irl to him and because it would have been nice to have a character who was beautiful but acknowledged first as a fighter

For definite headcanon: Shen Yuan is actively more beautiful and pretty then Shen Qingqiu

[canisalbus]

Can I ask how Vasco reacted to hearing about Machete’s assassination? :o did he put on a brave face? Was he inconsolable? Does he imagine that if he were there, he could’ve done something (even if that isn’t true? I imagine it would be tortuous mentally and emotionally for him, poor lad

He most likely went through a mental breakdown, followed by years of paralyzing grief and depression. Vasco had proven to be outstandingly resilient and optimistic in adversity, putting on a brave face was his second nature. But this was his final 'break the unbreakable' moment. He turned withdrawn and apathetic. He had never lost anyone this abruptly before, and he became visibly paranoid about the safety and health of his family while failing to look after his own wellbeing.

Of course he kept rewinding the events in his head and second-guessing himself about whether he could've prevented this outcome somehow, even when everyone who knew about his situation kept telling him there was no reason for him to blame himself for it. He struggled with the suddenness of it, and the lack of closure, and couldn't get over thinking how the love of his life had died alone, surprised, scared and in pain, and that there was absolutely nothing he could do to remedy that. Ludovica's support was invaluable to him. Since he couldn't mourn openly she was one of the few people who were there for him.

Eventually he came to terms with what had happened and learned to live with it, and even though he slowly regained his good-humoured personality, he never fully recovered back to his previous self.

[gayraeofsun]

i just really want to scream about this movie into the void because it was so well done, and i doubt anyone will really see this but i don't really have anyone i could have a deep discussion about this with.

trigger warning and spoiler warning ahead for the movie blink twice. content ahead discusses themes around sa, including r*pe, drugging, manipulation, and general physical/verbal abuse.

i don't keep up with any previews or recent movie releases much anymore, so i was going into this movie almost completely blind like i do with most new movies anymore. i had seen one preview, but it was apparently plain and simple enough for me to mostly forget about it. the irony in that will be made known a bit later on.

the movie automatically opens with a screen that displays a trigger warning, which is something that i had been seeing for the first time in any kind of visual media. normally these things are already listed by the ratings, but as a sa survivor who had no idea what this movie was going to be, it was a good thing to see so i could brace myself for what was to come. do i think this is necessary for any and every movie of this kind? no, it feels a little redundant (again, these things are typically included in the ratings). and, well, asking me to not watch if it would upset me is kind of a no deal, since i paid for a ticket and popcorn to see this on the big screen.

we're immediately introduced to our two main characters, two best friends, and it's hard to not immediately fall for their relationship with each other. so playful and silly and ridiculous, you can immediately tell they adore each other's company in their shitty job living in their shitty apartment, and you can tell that they're written by a woman who loves these characters and wants to portray them as relatable people. the interactions between the whole cast of girls, i think, was just outstandingly done. they felt realistic, not constantly shitting on each other and fighting for the attention of the men (though some jealousy of that fashion is still portrayed). they were all there enjoying the island and they ended up bonding together wonderfully. they were funny without being over-the-top rude or nasty or promiscuous, as is portrayed commonly in female characters in popular media. i can't and won't stop gushing over how much these characters felt just like real life girls that i was hanging out with.

this movie was really great at putting a pit in your stomach and slowly making it grow. of course, the trigger warning at the beginning spoils what's to come, so for me the pit was there from the start. any sensible person who's been socialized to be a woman will know, you don't ever just run away with some random ass group of men you don't know to the middle of nowhere with no cell service. but the little things that make the main character, frida, stop and question are so subtle, and so easily dismissed to start with. the used lip gloss in the drawer, the available clothes despite being an "unexpected" guest, the weird cleaning staff. but they increasingly get more odd. the island is full of venomous snakes and they all have to be killed on sight. something about these flirty interactions isn't quite right anymore, and he's talking about repressed memories. what day even is it? why am i always waking up with dirt under my nails?

who even knows or cares though, since we're all high and/or drunk 24/7. welcome to paradise!

it builds and builds until it begins to unravel, slowly and then all at once as the girls come to the realization of what happens to them every night when they get unbelievably high after dinner. the bond between the first two to piece it together was outstanding, and i love that there wasn't a cheap "find the phones and call authorities" plan. they worked out why that wouldn't work at all, because who would they believe? the "hysterical bitches" making claims without any kind of solid evidence, or the rich white man who's now a reformed soul and probably good friends with some of the cops?

the ending is not a happy one, in my eyes, though i believe it was probably supposed to be portrayed as one? two girls live and three girls die by the end. the ringmaster (ceo) of the whole thing ends up accidentally taking his own forgetfulness juice and suddenly doesn't understand what's going on and why all his friends are dead or have been otherwise brutalized. he knocks over lit candles and then trips and knocks himself out in his stupor, and the island burns down, the photographic evidence (that was later discovered) and all. i thought it was just going to end there and we would be left with the ambiguous ending, and that's never satisfying and feels very overdone anymore.

but instead, we're given a scene where our main character is now the ceo of the company, and legally married to the man who lured her away and horrifically abused her. twice. i interpreted this as her getting her own form of justice/revenge. i doubt she gives him half the treatment he gave her, but now she controls him and everything he owns and knew, and gets every bit of respect she wants. he killed her best friend and two other girls after overpowering the lot of them every single night. in a perfect world, he'd get tried and punished for his crimes legally. but all the evidence of it ever happening burned to the ground. so this is what she does to cope. in the final scene, she seems very satisfied, more than pleased to make her new husband's old crew squirm. she becomes the thing that destroyed her and so many others (but yk, most likely without the rapist cult).

one character i very suddenly grew interested in was the scrawniest boy in the group. he flies perfectly under the radar and doesn't appear in many of scenes that portray the gruesome sa. the one where he's in clear view, he appears to be another victim, trying to flee from one of the bigger men and receiving a black eye, which he would have no memory of getting the next morning. he's told by one of the girls that he smells nice, most likely referencing the perfume that was making them forget everything. it seemed very clear that he was in a victim role here as well, likely also being sa-ed. but he's never seen bound and gagged with the girls.

his final scene gets interesting when the ceo berates him for doing nothing to help the girls the entire time (yeah, the same ceo millionaire who's been basically orchestrating this whole sick fucking show in his perfect little getaway island). how he thinks there's a special place in hell for people who sit and do nothing in the face of evil. there are two very different ways to interpret this. 1) he wasn't actually getting drugged and abused with the girls, and was there as someone who didn't actively participate in abusing the girls, but also didn't do anything to try to stop it either. this could be blatant commentary on the two types of evil; while "not all men" r*pe and abuse people, not enough men will speak out against it or try to run to the victim's defense. or 2) the ceo was casting blame onto someone who was genuinely confused as to what was happening (which seems to ring true in both scenarios), and someone who was also a victim and stuck in a completely helpless situation. both could hold some level of truth, but ultimately i read him as the latter, thinking he was meant to represent the less common male victim. he gets killed by one of the girls, who wasn't specifically targeting him but also wasn't taking any chances, and that's the last we see of him. in my eyes he could either be read as the kind of evil that merely observes and therefore was rightfully murdered, or he could represent his male victims often get forgotten about or less acknowledged, which could speak as to why he was killed off so quickly never to be discussed again.

and i've gotta say, one thing i really appreciate about the scenes depicting r*pe is that it put a lot of the focus on the r*pists and not their victims. they were careful to not show any nudity or any shots of the women getting r*ped, but still showed them getting forced down when they tried to flee. i have not personally seen any other graphic scenes of this nature in other movies, but from what i hear a lot of it can get rather pornographic, and i feel like that's incredibly distasteful when you're trying to depict something that's absolutely vile. this movie does a great job of getting the absolute terror of the moment across without compromising any of the actresses by posing them seductively or showing off their bodies, and same goes for the men (if you don't count a couple of them being shirtless).

the writing is so wonderful, and the little clues as to what's happening beneath the surface are so good and plentiful. this is a movie that i don't think i'd ever be able to sit through again, but the sense of dread that continued to grow and grow will surely stick with me. it was very darkly funny in many places, which did great to break up some of the tension. for anyone who was able to stomach it, i would highly recommend watching through it once you're able. i think it was outstandingly well done and handled certain things as well as it could without watering any of it down.

[lorelune]

O4O: part ii

|| jing yuan x reader || E/18+ || omega 4 omega, hurt/comfort || wc: 11.5k  || ao3 ||

After your swift departure following his heat, Jing Yuan copes with your strange behavior. He only hopes you will crumble, so he may catch you.

minors, antis and ageless blogs dni

part i - part ii - part iii (coming soon!)

notes: ohhhh mommy jing yuan how you continue to captivate me. this piece has been so fun to dive into!! and has gotten longer than anticipated :'^) though o4o was a planned two shot, it will now be in three parts!! please enjoy this part and all the goodness of caring kind and patient mommy jing yuan <33 thank you soo much to @ofmermaidstories, @owlespresso, & @honeyedgifts for beta reading and providing invaluable feedback. KITH!! now ENJOY!!

CW: a/b/o, omega jing yuan, omega reader, reader with afab anatomy and referred to with they/them pronouns, a burgeoning mommy jing yuan, hurt/comfort, sick fic, angst that WILL resolve (i prommy), author-cooked omegaverse lore, one threat of spanking, a single named OC, medical environments, past dan feng/jing yuan/yingxing

Jing Yuan remembers his first heat startlingly well.

It occurred only a day or two after he presented. He’d been Jingliu’s apprentice for less than half a decade. Fresh-faced and young, soft in his cheeks with youth. His scent had sweetened rather suddenly while out in the field with his fellow Cloud knights. His normally neutral aroma turned to something balmy and honey-like in the space of an afternoon. Jing Yuan had felt tender in the days leading up to this change, however, he hadn’t thought anything of it.

He was raised by two betas, after all. They had not bothered teaching Jing Yuan the signs to look out for when nearing the precipice of presenting and the symptoms of an impending heat. Jing Yuan hadn’t understood why the aggressive scents of sweat and musk that clung to the bedclothes and sleep sacks of his fellow recruits bothered him so much. He hadn’t understood why his chest and inner thighs ached, despite not being bruised or overworked by Jingliu’s training exercises. He did not understand why a few of the squirrelier recruits in his company seemed to follow a few paces behind him after their afternoon exercises, lingering around the communal shower as Jing Yuan washed himself.

Jingliu, however, was a coupled alpha with a very kind, loving omega mate. And the moment Jingliu smelled Jing Yuan, freshly bathed and without the reek of sweat on him, she quarantined him to a private quarter with as many blankets and pillows as she could find.

Jingliu was not an affectionate master. She was rather cold and rarely gave Jing Yuan any type of leniency during his training. She did not know restraint, she knew mastery and passion like they were her lovers and not the chipper Foxian that Jing Yuan would one day come to call one of his most beloved friends.

Yet, as Jing Yuan ripened and his first heat rolled over him, Jingliu was outstandingly kind. She stayed with him in his nest of scratchy, ill-suited blankets and scented him as gently as she knew how. Wrist-to-wrist, nosing at his sweaty temple tentatively. She saw to him until Baiheng could arrive and take up the task. 

Jing Yuan can still recall hazily watching Baiheng and Jingliu exchange scents at his bedside, caressing each other so tenderly in a mere greeting. He remembers thinking:

“Will I be held like that one day?”

The thought was violent back then. Jing Yuan had not yearned in such a way before and he immediately assumed such a deep desire for intimate companionship surely had to come from his heat-addled mind.

Jing Yuan now knows that this assumption is wrong. 

He had been held kindly, one day, by Yingxing and Dan Feng who tended to him so well. The kindest mates, sweet in their own ways, though always sharp-tongued. They both carried attitudes, but Jing Yuan didn’t mind the teasing and prodding they exchanged. The banter was half the fun. Jing Yuan knew that it would one day end, as Yingxing was short-lived and Dan Feng would’ve (should’ve) outlived Jing Yuan. 

(It did end, but so differently than he expected. Yingxing, an abomination torn asunder that barely recognizes Jing Yuan as an old, scorned friend and not a lover. Dan Feng— now Dan Heng— he who wears the face of the man Jing Yuan loved but who cannot ever give him the same things. He who will never want the same things.)

Jing Yuan carried (carries) his broken heart well. What’s done is done. Jing Yuan never expected to be loved again, cherished or held like something to be cherished or held. Gentleness, he gives to others when he can, though he would never expect to receive it. 

Maybe he craved it. 

How could he not? 

Regardless of secondary gender, everyone needs care.

In the throes of his heat, he craves the presence of a lover and companionship so deeply it makes him feel sick. His heats now are nothing like this first heat, where Baiheng wiped his brow with a cold rag and whispered to him kind praises like a mother would. They are nothing like the many he shared with Yingxing and Dan Feng, who fought over the best ways to please and sate him.

His heats now are lonely things. They are seldom more than a grudge match between the repetitive stress injuries in his arms and the knotting toys he keeps at his bedside and his motivation to be fucked and knotted by a false phallus made of silicone. His heats are unpleasant, truthfully, and if it wasn’t detrimental to his health, Jing Yuan would take an abortive medication before each one and stop them from occurring at all.

Until recently.

You somehow snuck your way close to him (he invited you to do so), and offered him the thing he had craved for centuries without a second thought. No expectations, no transaction. Your earnestness had always been a point of attraction for Jing Yuan. Sincerity as a turn on. You offered him your presence, body, scent and a smile for nothing more than an assurance that he wanted you.

And, of course he did. Jing Yuan is not a proud man, and he will admit his faults readily. And whether it’s a quirk of biology, his own psyche, or some combination of the two, he wants you.

And now he has had you.

And yet, you left him and his bed cold. 

...

Jing Yuan worries in the days that follow his heat. Post-heat makes him antsy and anxious in a way that is uncommon for him. He alternates between pacing the courtyards in the middle of his estate and burying his face in the linens and pillows of his nest, soaking up as much of your fading scent as he can. He lives in the robe you had favored. He brings the wide, silk neckline of the garment to his nose frequently to inhale the strongest smell of you that lingers there. 

He feels, notably, a bit pathetic.

It isn’t like him to stew like this even in post-heat. Usually, he’ll be on edge and fatigued, spending a day or two in bed before returning to the Seat of Divine Foresight to catch up on paperwork. It’s unpleasant, but not unbearable, and he doesn’t carry the same pit in his stomach that he does now. 

His palms sweat during the day hours. He sleeps poorly. 

It doesn’t help that you hardly contact him during the days that follow. He received a single text from you, just after you had left so abruptly: 

[name]: i just got home safe. i apologize again. i hope you are well.

And nothing beyond that.

Jing Yuan assumes your own heat had hit. This is the most logical conclusion, as occasionally one omega’s heat can trigger another’s. It explains your erratic behavior and the scent-blocking patches plastered to the side of your neck. And Jing Yuan supposes it is fair for you to want to be home, near your nest your instincts would urge you to. 

However—

(Jing Yuan is pathetic and a bit petty, and cannot deny that he is upset that you didn’t think to ask him to be your heatmate, after you so diligently and tenderly cared for him.)

Jing Yuan is not used to the conflict between his omegan urges and his own sense of reason. It makes him feel sick with a headache during the final day of his post-heat. He can’t even enjoy his usual tonic of ginger, lemon, and lyran root without a roll of nausea. His post-heat finishes with him alone (naturally, it seems, as it always is) and with a tummy ache that would flatten him were he a weaker man and not Arbiter-General. 

...

Jing Yuan does not expect you to appear at your weekly, scheduled lunch. He assumes you are in the throes of your heat. He assumes you are—

(Suffering alone, in an empty nest probably. Or, had you contacted someone? There’s an insecure murmuring in the back of Jing Yuan's mind that worries you had flagged down someone else to keep your company. Maybe an alpha coworker from the Sky-Faring Commission. Maybe a sensible beta acquaintance who can keep an eye on you, but never get too close. Perhaps, you had hired a handsome, pay-per-heat alpha to warm your bed. Jing Yuan hasn’t indulged, but there are plenty of services on the Luofu that offer a catalog of vetted alphas to knot and sate a needy omega.)

It’s an easy spiral to fall into. One Jing Yuan worries himself in until your next lunch.

His worries turn to confusion upon arriving at his terraced garden to find you already at the gate. You idle, bouncing on your toes with a basket thrown over your arm. Jing Yuan can smell the aroma of freshly baked bread and rich, warm butter emanating from the basket. It mixes with your... scent beautifully. It soothes something in him instantly. 

You give him a timid wave and a soft, “Hello, Jing Yuan.”

(Something in him aches.)

Jing Yuan assesses you quickly as you, together, set up the picnic for the meal in silence. Your neck is bare, soft, and unblemished. Not a single bite mark peaks above your collar which provides Jing Yuan with so much relief, that he almost sighs aloud. You seem well-fed, cheeks filled out and soft. Most interestingly, your scent is not heat-stricken. There’s not a hint of pre, post, or standing heat on you. The only difference to your scent is the taste of smoke that lingers in the back of his throat, something charred and acidic. Displeasure. Anxiety.

This all leaves Jing Yuan with more questions than answers, however he asks none during the meal.

Perhaps, Jing Yuan is feeling fragile. Your relationship feels tenuous, despite the seemingly consensual, pleasurable intimacy you so recently shared. Regardless of that, you sit across from him at the low table, picking over your plate quietly and nipping at the skin around your cuticles when you’re not. You can barely meet his eyes as Jing Yuan makes surface-level small talk. 

“The weather is lovely today, isn’t it?”

“It is.”

...

“This bread is wonderful. What bakery did you pick up from?”

“The one at the edge of Aurum Alley. With the striped banner in the window.”

...

“How is Yukong and the Sky Faring Commission these days?”

“Just fine.”

...

Just fine.

It’s stilted and odd. You are clearly aware of the tension, with your shoulders drawn up to your ears and a half-scowl fixed on your pretty lips. Jing Yuan does what he can to parry around it, and draw out what he can from you gingerly. He doesn’t wish to pry at you; he knows it won’t do any good with you this guarded. He’s never known you to be anything other than earnest, so it is easy to conclude that your current demeanor and behavior are based within some type of discomfort.

He does not want to worsen it.

Lunch ends quickly that first week. You do not linger, only offering a quick goodbye before escaping him through a back entrance to the gardens. You offer him a single, fleeting look that echoes a pain Jing Yuan isn’t sure he has a name for yet. It makes something in him shudder and fracture, the soft-hearted omega in him begging the rational, sensical parts of him to chase you down, drag you by your scruff into his nest and explain yourself.

However, Jing Yuan does not. Instead, he leaves you with a melancholy smile on his lips and worn lines under his eyes.

...

Over the next few weeks, your lunches follow the same pattern. You arrive first, act cold and sad during the meal and leave promptly without lingering once it is over. Your scent remains acrid, varying sometimes to sickly sweet in a way that makes Jing Yuan nauseous. You hardly touch your food and offer him little in the way of conversation. Or information. Or anything remotely in the same realm as the soft closeness you had shared in his nest, or the lilting banter you exchanged before. 

Jing Yuan bides his time and does what he can to put you together, outside of your scheduled, weekly meetings.

He reviews your social media for any new postings (there are none). He is keen to take note of any others’ scents that linger on you during your lunches (there are none that are unusual). He even trails you to the evening markets a few times. You’re sullen even then, picking veggies and fruit with a darkened expression. Tired and cold. 

It is perhaps... invasive for Jing Yuan to keep such an intense eye on you. He can accept that. It seems like the wiser option than prodding and poking you and your off mood when you clearly want to spend the least amount of time with him as possible. Jing Yuan knows he must maneuver about your relationship carefully. 

And truthfully? This is unknown territory to him. He is cautious. 

And ultimately? Jing Yuan surmises that you will come to him before he must prod you. You are honest and Jing Yuan is certain (certain) that it must be very difficult for you to hold your tongue and fester the way you are. He resolves to allow you to wallow for a bit longer, before stepping in. He’ll examine you more closely then and find the weak points in your facade if necessary. He’ll lance through them then, and some type of catharsis will follow. The outcome of which he hopes is favorable. 

(He hopes that it ends in companionship. Coupling, if he is to dream. He’ll take scraps as long as it is you.) 

This behavior of his could, theoretically, destroy your relationship. 

(Dan Feng never liked prying. He was a very private person who was so, so careful with what he shared. Even with his mates. Inversely, Yingxing was far from private. He complained and groused about anything and everything that rubbed him the wrong way. There were times when Yingxing would attempt to contain his poor moods, though this was rarely successful. It would inevitably lead to an evening-long outburst between the three of them. Explosive anger and sadness would fade into a sweetened dusk as they shared Jing Yuan’s nest, comforted by the warmth and lack of space between them.

What destroyed their relationship was the unnamed thing that Yingxing and Dan Feng shared that did not include Jing Yuan. 

Jing Yuan never minded it. Both Yingxing and Dan Feng operated in their own unique niches on the Luofu, as High Elder and a rare short-lived genius, and they found a special type of kinship in that. Jing Yuan was not jealous within their polycule.

Perhaps he should have been.

Dan Feng’s brooding anxiety was a quiet thing. Like a storm out at sea, writhing as one looked on it from the shoreline. Something to watch out for, to run from, to seek high ground away from, but so distant that it was easy to dismiss. 

Dan Feng feared Yingxing’s inevitable, looming death. Dan Feng loved so deeply and he would lose it so soon. Jing Yuan felt similarly but tempered the feeling. Dan Feng, despite his many meditations and mantras, did not.

Dan Feng had been given so little that was truly his in his lifetime. To have the life of a lover ripped away by something as trivial as biology incensed him.

Yingxing entertained Dan Feng too much. Spurred on things too large for him to truly understand. It’s belittling to say, but Jing Yuan believed it then, and believes it even more in retrospect. Yingxing researched and fed Dan Feng’s hope and anxiety in tandem. He kept Jing Yuan in the dark near the end, with lust-filled nights, a fat knot, and a well-cared-for nest. 

When Jing Yuan pressed the two of them about their shared absences, their oddly timed visits to Scale Gorge and peculiar demeanors, he was pushed away. Shut out. It made him hurt and shake and only the two of them could put him back together in those instances. To be squeezed between them, fucked out and full, would soothe any wounds their distance left. Temporarily. They’d only be more distant the morning after and the cycle would begin again. 

For all of his sharpness, Jing Yuan was unable to stop them in the end

Truly, how does one stop the mighty storm, born from the sea and the volcanic belches beneath its surface? Jing Yuan is only a man. To be caught in the ocean’s swirling undertow and the sky’s gales would have been a fruitless struggle. Treading water in the calm sea was hard enough. Under the tempest Dan Feng and Yingxing birthed? Jing Yuan could not bear it. He did not know how. The mutually-assured destruction that the duo brewed was not meant for anyone other than each other.

Jing Yuan wonders if his own aches had pushed the two away from him and closer to each other.

Was it guilt they were both too stubborn to name? Or, something worse like dislike or even hate? Did they only tolerate him, by the end, when they were too engrossed in their plans to achieve immortality to care about their omega anymore? Was Jing Yuan’s long-faded claiming bite a burden to them? 

Jing Yuan tries not to dwell on it. It makes him too sad.

He will not deny the effects that their departure had on him. He is tentative to entertain lasting bonds like the ones he once had. He rejects every suitor. He is far too careful in sharing his burdens with those who do care for him. He dances with his words and feelings better than any street performer in Aurum Alley. 

He worries for you because he has created some type of bond with you, and he worries that if he pries, you will run off and away from him, into a storm that he cannot weather, only to be swallowed by it.)

So, Jing Yuan is careful.

...

Things boil over exactly a month after Jing Yuan’s heat. 

It is sooner than expected, though you are a tender-hearted thing. Perhaps Jing Yuan should’ve suspected that you would break within your own turmoil sooner rather than later.

On this day, you are not early to lunch. You are absent from the gates at the appointed time. Initially, Jing Yuan thinks you perhaps went in without him (you never do, always waiting to walk in step with him), though you are not any place in the garden when he does enter. The low table is bare as he steps under the gazebo and settles himself onto one of the silk pillows.

Jing Yuan can’t help but be nervous, rubbing at the scent glands on his wrist without thinking of it. As the minutes tick by, his unease grows like an oily bubble in his chest.

(You haven’t sent him any messages indicating you wouldn’t be here. You haven’t ever been so late before, never left him idling like this without any sort of communication. Your silence seems to speak more than anything else you’ve said to him in the past few weeks.)

(‘I don’t want to see you anymore, Jing Yuan.’)

Before Jing Yuan has further time to catastrophize, the back gate to the garden opens with a slam. It shuts far more quietly a moment later. You stand next to it, fumbling with the mechanical latch.

As your scent bleeds over the garden, Jing Yuan stands without thinking. His own spiral shatters.

Your scent is sour. Like something rotten, like a fruit ripened and laid with the eggs of insects. It’s far more alarming than the off notes that your scent has carried recently. It’s sickly sweet, earthen, and fleshy in a way that is startling and putrid. The sweet warmth of it is gone, not even a layer of it remains as you mutter to yourself, continuing to struggle with the gate, visibly panicking.

You speak before Jing Yuan can further acknowledge you, “I’m s-so sorry to be late. I-I got caught up with something in the Alchemy Commission, and the Starskiff tram— it filled up and I had to catch the next one, and then— I missed my stop? I’m sorry—”

You run a hand through your hair and tug.

Jing Yuan must attempt to soothe you, yes? He keeps his voice even and low as he says, “It’s alright.”

You do not look well, Jing Yuan realizes as he nears you. Your appearance matches your scent. Sweat soaks your temples, running in rivulets down your neck to visibly soak the collar of your innermost garments. Your pupils are pinpricked, gaze far away even as you (attempt) to speak to him. Your lips are chapped, chewed raw. The petal-softness looks almost busted open on one side from the abuse.

You scowl at him and shake your head.

“It hardly is.” You mumble. “I—I didn’t mean to make you wait. Or worry— if you did. I’m sorry to assume.”

“There’s nothing to apologize for,” Jing Yuan approaches you carefully, slowly, the way one would approach a frightened, soaked kitten. “How about we sit, hm? I’ve already poured us both water, and it looks like you could use some.”

You open your lips to protest, and the bloody scab at the corner tears. Fresh scarlet bleeds over the puckered flesh and you turn away from him, just enough to paw at the wound obscured.

“I’m sorry.”

Jing Yuan’s heart breaks a fraction.

Your unwellness strikes something in him, and a white-hot dread burns from the base of his skull, down his spine, and settles in his hands and lower core. It is the physical reaction to the lucid understanding that something is clearly wrong. He can’t quite parse what, but he knows he needs to find out. Mend. Do something because if he has to hear the broken inflection in your voice for much longer, he will shatter. His nerves and resolve are more frayed than he thought. 

With his voice soft and gentle, he says, “I appreciate you thinking of me, however, you truly do not need to apologize. If you’d like, you can continue your apologies once we get you into the shade and get some water in you. It’s already chilled. I’ll pour you a glass. How does that sound?”

It’s a belittling way to speak to you. He knows this, yet cannot stop the way his tone sweetens and lightens. It feels— natural, instinctual. It makes his mouth feel dry and tacky because—

(God, when was the last time he allowed himself to respond to his own anxiety and need to care in this way?)

(Will you be receptive to it?)

You stare at him, scowling and wet-eyed, “It— sounds f-fine. I can pour the water, though.”

(Perhaps.)

Jing Yuan steels himself, “Would you let me? I’d very much like to.”

“I always p-pour it though,” you sniffle. “You don’t need to.”

“I’d like to.” 

He would. 

Jing Yuan offers you his hand, palm up and inviting.

(He anticipates a rejection. There’s an afterimage, a fragmented memory of Dan Feng scolding Jing Yuan for this flavor of soppy vulnerability. Yingxing once laughed in his face for this type of sober-minded, sexless tenderness. They didn’t mean it to be cruel. They didn’t know how it bruised part of him so deeply that centuries later, his hand trembles the slightest bit as he holds it out to you with the same feelings warming his chest down to his toes.)

You take his hand.

Jing Yuan feels himself relax, if only a little.

He guides you back to the table, rubbing his thumb along the meat of your palm. He deposits you next to him at the table, rather than your usual spot across. You don’t seem to mind, you’re too focused on immediately fussing with the pillows and mats below you. Jing Yuan idles, watching. 

You’re so uncomfortable in your own skin.

It takes you a while to settle. You shift from your knees, to cross-legged, then back to your knees. The pillow you’re atop clearly isn’t to your liking as you wobble on top of it, frown deepening as you try to get comfortable. You don’t look at him— or you won’t look at him, he isn’t entirely sure. 

Jing Yuan pours each of you a glass of water and sets yours close to you.

“Drink?”

“Not yet,” You shove at the pillow between your legs. Your voice pinches. “I— I need a moment.”

“Take your time,” Jing Yuan assures you. 

(He will not let you hurt for long. He can’t.)

You push and pull at the cushion. Your thighs quiver as you barely manage to hold yourself up to try and sit more comfortably. Jing Yuan watches you, taking note of how your body seems to struggle with its own weight. When your outer garment spreads open around your legs and he gets a peak of your inner layers, he can see that you’re soaked. Though, there’s no scent of slick on you. He presumes it must be sweat. 

Poor, poor thing.

You gnaw at your bottom lip, teeth digging into the wound that’s already there. It weeps blood, a little smear of it dragging onto your chin.

That’s enough.

Jing Yuan snatches your water glass up. Gently, he presses the rim of it to your lips.

“Drink, please.”

It’s a gamble, truthfully. This much proximity and care could scare you off. It could make you turn tail and run, really. But, Jing Yuan needs this, he thinks. He needs to show you he cares in a way that is tangible and touchable and maybe then—

(You will understand the depth of his feelings. Maybe, you’ll even learn you can lean on him.)

You look over the top of the glass at him with widened eyes, “I—”

“Perhaps it will help you settle. You look quite dehydrated.”

“B-But I feel gross, I don’t want to drink anything.”

Jing Yuan implores you, “Will you try?”

“I don’t want to.” Your tone edges to that of a petulant child, fists balling up over your thighs. “I-I don’t know if it will help.”

Jing Yuan hums thoughtfully. “It certainly won’t hurt to have a small sip, would it?”

“... Probably not.”

You flash him a teary look before jolting your gaze away from him, blinking rapidly.

“For me, then?” Jing Yuan asks. “Just a little sip. If it makes you feel worse, you don’t need to drink any more. But, I really do think it will help.”

“... Okay.” You concede.

Jing Yuan expects you to take the glass from him. You have been careful not to touch him since his heat after all, and with how cagey you are, this hardly seems like the exception. And yet, you wrap your hands around his own that hold the glass, and tilt it back to sip. He follows the motion, careful to make sure you don’t choke. 

Jing Yuan watches you take a small sip, then another, then a third, and suddenly you throw back the glass and take a gulp. 

It soothes something in him.

He’s careful to keep the glass tilted just right so you do not drown yourself. You take large sips, water spilling from the corners of the glass, down your chin. Jing Yuan feels soothed as you finish it, allowing him to pour you another. You shake like a leaf next to him as he does. 

“Slower with this next one,” Jing Yuan urges. “Would you like me to help you again?”

“I���I— No. You shouldn’t.” You shake your head. A moment later, you lay forward, face down on the table, bracing your forehead against the wood and hiding your face from him. Your arms wrap around your middle. “You shouldn’t have to.”

You curl in on yourself.

“But, I’d like to. If it would help you and make things easier.” 

Jing Yuan moves to pet the back of your head but pauses, just before he does. He hovers there, considering, assessing—

He can’t be entirely sure what state you’re in. It’s clearly not heat, nor is it pre-heat. Perhaps you are ill regardless of your heat cycle, but he hadn’t noticed any other symptoms other than sweating, a clear fever, and your rancid scent. He cannot be sure any type of contact, intimate or otherwise, will be wanted, let alone welcomed. 

He takes a chance.

(Jing Yuan remembers that you are a soft creature. Fragile and craving. You need contact, even if you think you don’t. Jing Yuan will remind you of this.)

He sweeps any hair off the back of your neck and lays his palm flat over the nape of it. His fingers wrap around the sides of your throat, just barely, and squeeze. Not enough to cause discomfort, just applying enough pressure that you can both be grounded in it. Jing Yuan nearly growls when he feel the absolutely torched state of your scent glands—

You keen. It’s a warbling thing and tension leaks out from you. Like a half-built home, you collapse in on yourself. You sniffle a moment later and press your face harder into the wood. Jing Yuan— he can’t have that. Seeing you hurt hurts him. He coaxes your head up as much as he can and rubs at the skin of your neck. Not near your scent glands, they’re too sensitive, even with the barest touch. He leaves them alone as a concern to sort out later. 

You allow him this contact. You even lean into it and toward him as he pets you. Your shoulder bumps into his own and Jing Yuan can feel the heat coming off of you in waves. He hates this. He hates seeing you in pain, suffering, and he wants to fix it, but biding his time is the best option. He must be coaxing and gentle regardless of how he’d like to heft you over his shoulder, take you back to his nest, and make sure you are safe and well-cared for. It would help. Whatever state you’re in, suffering alone can’t be helping you. But being too rash could scare you off so easily. 

You shiver beside him. Poor, poor thing. Your eyes are red-rimmed and glassy. He squeezes your neck reassuringly. Instantly, you’re hiding and burying your face in your hands.

“Jing Yuan,” you say softly. “You must stop being kind to me. Please.”

“I don’t think I can, dear.” His tongue slips and his heart aches. What a foolish idea for you to have. “Why do you not want me to be kind to you?”

“Because—” You chew on your words and shake your head. “I— I haven’t been good to you. I’ve actually been shit to you, and— it’s not fair for you to be so kind to me when I have been so vile.”

‘Vile’ is too strong of a word. Too cruel to yourself. You’ve been avoidant, yes. Unwell and dealing with so poorly, entirely. But vile? Hardly. Though your actions stung, he doesn’t hold the previous weeks against you. Especially in this moment, where his concern far outweighs any other feeling he carries. Any other pains you’ve caused him can be addressed later. There is more to parse. But nothing that takes precedence now that you are beginning to crumble.

“I disagree.” Jing Yuan says your name, sweet on his lips and aching between his ribs, “Please do not speak of yourself so poorly.”

“But it’s true,” your voice wobbles. Your shoulders shake. “I deserve it, don’t I? You are too kind to me, Jing Yuan, but I have been cruel to you. I left you in post-heat. I continue— to see you and pretend everything is fine, and that we’re fine, and that I’m fine even if we both know that something clearly isn’t. Yet, I-I’m too much of a fucking coward to say anything to you. I k-keep withholding things from you. I keep messing up and I hate that I’m doing it. I feel awful, lying to you and keeping you away. And yet, you are still kind to me—”

A sob breaks your last word and your hands fly to cover your mouth.

He says your name again, voice threatening to break, “It’s alright—”

“But it’s not!” You snap. “I-I care about you so much, Jing Yuan. I really do and I keep messing up. And I-I don’t know how to fix anything. I’m sorry.”

Jing Yuan collects himself and makes a series of decisions very quickly. It’s necessary. Your scent is putrid. Angry and rotten now. And Jing Yuan can’t bear to watch you struggle like this anymore.

He acts. It’s a flurry of motion in which he snakes his arms around your waist. In a single heave, he pulls you into his lap. He hauls you close, against his chest your legs thrown over his thighs. You fight him, just a little. A bit of squirming and a shove or two at his chest, but he isn’t perturbed. His arm stays securely wrapped around your middle as he tugs you closer still. You push against his shoulder with a frown.

“Jing Yuan—” 

He tilts your chin up with a wide palm. You startle when you meet his gaze, almost cowering. 

“I will not sit here and listen to you berate yourself any further for my sake,” Jing Yuan levels his gaze. He will be stern. He thinks you need it. “Do you understand?”

You bare your teeth at him, “I’m being honest—”

Jing Yuan reaches up and tears one of the scent-blocking patches on the side of his neck off and tosses it aside. His scent radiates. It’s concerned, worried, hurt but the achy kind of pain. Bitter and wind-whipped. You stiffen as his scent mingles with yours. There’s a sharp quality to his own scent that makes you cower just a bit, sinking further into his lap and the support of his arm wrapped around you.

“You are being incredibly harsh to yourself,” Jing Yuan tells you, softening his voice. He pets your cheeks and watches your eyes begin to water once more. “It doesn’t serve me, and it certainly doesn’t serve you. I know that you are upset, I have been able to smell it since the moment you entered the garden. I would like to help, but I can’t if you focus on being cruel to yourself, rather than telling me what is hurting you so badly.” 

“I—” You swallow and wring your hands in your lap. Your words fade off and you only nod. 

Tears slip down your cheeks anew. Before you have a chance to try and wipe them away, Jing Yuan ducks his head lower, closer to yours, and swipes the tears away with his thumbs. You sniffle when he does, meeting his eyes, only to look away quickly and fix your gaze on the ground. Your shoulders stay slack, though.

(A sign of submission.)

Jing Yuan will take it. He adjusts so that you’re fully bundled in his lap and he buries his nose in your hair. Ideally, he would drag you to lie down in the piles of satin blankets and pillows but Jing Yuan thinks better of it. He’s unsure he’d be able to get up if he were to get tangled up with you. The instinct to nest feels too intense to not heed if he were nestled any closer to you and the soft cushions. 

You shiver against his chest. Whether it’s fever or nerves, it is hard to tell. You almost vibrate, sniffling and allowing Jing Yuan to tend to your cheeks. You even let him press his lips below each of your eyes.  A little sob cuts off as he pulls away from you. He squeezes around your waist.

“Will you tell me what is going on?” He asks, voice hardly above a whisper.

You gather yourself, then nod. Your cheek squishes against the plate of armor on his chest and you bear into him. It doesn’t even seem like you’re doing so on purpose.

“I m-messed up,” you tell him quietly. “Really bad.”

“I’m sure it’s nothing that can’t be fixed,” he assures you. 

“But, Jing Yuan, it is bad. Even if it’s fixable, I don’t even know where to start.”

“That’s alright,” he replies. “I’d like to help, but I can only do that if you tell me what’s wrong. What happened, dear?”

It takes you a moment to gather yourself. You grab one of his hands and cradle it in both of yours. Sweetly, you rub at the meat of his thumb and over his palms. You glance up at him as you do.

“I was foolish.”

Something in him cracks. 

“Do not insult yourself again, or I will put you over my knee.” The words fly from Jing Yuan’s mouth without any forethought. “Do you understand?”

It’s too far— it should be too far— but it’s clearly not as you squeak and nod, compliant. Something to be addressed... later. One thing at a time.

“I—” You nod your head erratically. “I understand. I won’t. I promise.”

“Good, dear.” He is brazen enough to lean his nose into your temple. You lean into him with a wet hiccup. “Please continue.”

“Okay,” you say. “I—I messed up while I was helping you with your heat. Like, really messed up. I d-didn’t mean to, but I didn’t take my suppressants the entire time I was with you.”

Jing Yuan barely keeps himself from stiffening up.

“I see,” he breathes. “Do you take the variety of suppressants that need to be taken daily?”

“Uh-huh,” You nod with a gulp. “I u-usually take them at night, right before bed. But I didn’t even think about them while I was with you. I was... having such a nice time that they completely slipped my mind until the morning I left your home. I started to feel a little weird in the shower, and my scent got all muddled, and I remembered.” 

“I see,” Jing Yuan replies with a nod. “You did not smell like heat the following week if I recall.”

“I t-took an abortive heat-onset p-prescription I keep on hand,” you tell him softly. “I have a bottle of it that was prescribed by a healer I see at the Alchemy Commission. I have... severe heats. It’s better to stop them at all costs than to weather one.”

You haven’t ever told him this before. Your own heat cycle was always something private and kept to yourself. It makes sense, really. You were under the impression he was an alpha until relatively recently, and you had no reason to share the intimate details of your cycle and its apparent difficulties. 

You continue, “My sup— sup— suppressants aren’t a great type, I think? They work well, but they need a high dose to do so. Going off of them cold turkey, even f-for a short time has r-really messed up my heat cycle. I’ve been taking them consistently again, but it’s still a-awful, Jing Yuan.”

Your voice wobbles and breaks when you say his name, and you bury yourself in his chest. You hide there and Jing Yuan can’t help but to huddle over you, rubbing over your arms and waist and hushing you. The urge to soothe overtakes him. 

“It hurts, hm?” He speaks the words into your ear, and you shudder and nod profusely. Your scent is spiking, sweetening next to the rot. It’s better, at least by a fraction.

“Y-yeah. It’s so much. I keep getting little fevers and think I am going into preheat. Then—then I feel sick, like properly sick, and I think that I’m getting heat sick. I— get heat sick really easily, so it always feels likely and then I’m worried I’ll have my full heat and be sick. So, I—I take more of the abortive medication.”

“Each time you believe that you’re approaching your heat?”

You look down at your lap, shame clouding your eyes, “Y-Yeah. I know it’s bad. It keeps making me ill. My cycle just won’t even out— I feel so stupid— I shouldn’t say that. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I—I just don’t know what to do.” 

Your last word shatters you and you bawl into Jing Yuan’s neck.

He lets you. He brings his knees up, boxes you into him and lets you scent him feverishly. Jing Yuan so badly wants to scent you back, but he is ever-aware of your own inflamed scent glands and thinks better of it. It would bring you more pain than relief at this point. Instead, he does everything else he can think of to ease you. He lets you nose into the scent glands on his neck, open-mouthed and panted between labored breaths. His hands run up and down your back and arms, smearing his own scent all over you.

“It’s alright,” He, instead, assures you through your panic. “Thank you for telling me.” 

“Of course,” you hiccup and rub your cheek against his. “I just want it to stop.”

Of course, you do. Jing Yuan feels awful that you’ve been suffering and struggling and he hasn’t lent a hand this entire time. He feels— a bit foolish himself for not putting together that this was why you have been so avoidant and reclused recently. 

“I know,” he replies gently and cajoles your face away from his neck. You start crying harder and with your full chest when you don’t have direct contact with his scent gland anymore. Poor thing. He rubs under your eyes and softens his own. “It’s been scary, hasn’t it?”

“Mhm,” You turn into his hand, seeking him. God, Jing Yuan is going to crumble along with you.

“I’m sorry you’ve had to weather this alone.” He says gently. “I’d like to try and help you, if you’ll let me.”

“... Only— and I m-mean only, if I am not burdening you.” 

“You are not a burden to me.” You could never be. Jing Yuan speaks seriously and presses his lips, now chapped and dry with his worry, to your forehead. He lingers. “Even if you are struggling, it does not burden me to help you. It is much more of a hardship to think about you suffering alone or watching you suffering alone in the present. I would very much like to help— perhaps with a visit to the Alchemy Commission is in order firstly. How does that sound?”

“B-but, I already tried to see a healer today.”

He hums, “Is that why you were a bit tardy?”

You flush and nod, “Uh-huh.”

“What did the healer say?”

“They didn’t have a proper healer available for a walk-in, since they said it wasn’t an emergency,” you reply. “J-just an apprentice. He told me to get bed rest and try to take some time off of work.”

“Sound advice,” Jing Yuan nods, but notes the fact that you’re still soaked through with sweat and severely unwell. “However, I’d like it if we got you in to see someone for a full exam.”

“They said they were all full today— no appointments.”

Jing Yuan hums, rubbing over your ribs, “I have a personal healer at the Alchemy Commission. I am sure she will be able to make some time for you.”

“... Are you sure?”

“I’m certain.” Using his perks as Arbiter General hardly ever is appealing these days, not anymore. It would be a good use of status to get you into an urgent appointment for what is increasingly becoming an emergency with a physician he trusts. 

“... As long as it doesn’t cause any trouble,” you chew your lip and settle back into him. 

“You are not trouble,” he reminds you simply. “I only want to help relieve what is so clearly troubling you. Do you trust me to help?”

He asks you directly. Something is emerging between the two of you, he can tell and sense it, even if he doesn’t have a name for it yet. He knows that he will need your explicit trust to hatch the strategies that he wants to. You must trust him if he is going to take care of you well and properly, in the way that he is almost certain you will need.

“Of course.”

Of course, you trust him. You press a kiss to his jaw and linger there. Your neck, with your inflamed scent glands (are those hives rising up over top of them?), bared to him. 

Jing Yuan could cry.

You don’t fight him anymore. There’s no bite in you now, just the afterburn of tears and the last dribbles of them that soak down your neck and jaw. Jing Yuan can’t help pressing a few kisses to your burning cheeks. You let loose a warbling whine that breaks the stillness of the garden. Jing Yuan wants more of it, more of you, but there is work to be done first.

You tuck into him as he takes out his phone. It soothes him to see you there, burnt out, but soft-lipped against his chest. He pets over his cheeks as he shoots off a few important messages. 

...

The Alchemy Commission is quick to accommodate the General and the omega that the public will come to presume to be his mate. They tend to move heaven and earth when he requests anything of them (The last two High Elder’s have been quite fond of him, and that bias persists throughout their delve.) He has never been so happy to be in their good graces.

With haste upon your arrival, you are situated in a spacious exam room. It’s perfectly quiet; it’s the one they always keep Jing Yuan confined to when he requires attention. He’s glad they afford you the same care. It’s quite necessary. 

You’ve wilted on the journey over. Though Jing Yuan offered to arrange a house call so you could rest in the comfort of your home, you shot down the offer immediately and without debate.

(“My ne— my house isn’t presentable.”)

It’s fair. A cagey, sick omega rarely wants a stranger in their home.

Besides, the atmosphere of the clinic seems to soothe you— both of you. The exam room is outfitted with a long line of cupboards and jars for dry storage. Various mortars and pestles for mixing and grinding of remedies sit on a bench. There’s even a small stove made of black rock to be used if a medication requires heating. The smell of dried herbs and medicinal oils permeates the air, and each lungful settles something in him. It reminds him of the many nights he spent bothering Dan Feng while he concocted the High Elder’s pearl panacea for his patients. It brings Jing Yuan back to his own bouts of illness, when Yingxing would chide him for being reckless while slathering his chest and the bottoms of his feet with minty salve.

Your scent dulls with the environment as well. The white noise of rushing water, just beyond the delve, surely helps relax you too.

(You still do not look well. Jing Yuan tries not to fixate and spiral on the fact that you are so deeply unwell, as it will not serve him further than working himself up. He instead keeps close to you, bearing your weight as you lean into his side and slump. You burn beside him.)

You only perk up when Jing Yuan’s healer enters.

His healer is a silver-eyed Foxian named Lei Huiling. As she enters the exam room, a gentle wave of budding jasmine flowers and rock sugar follows. It’s a gentle scent, clearly of an omega. It’s non-obtrusive, but still calming. Jing Yuan has always appreciated its quality, and he can see that you do as well as you sniff toward her and relax a degree. 

She bows politely, “I apologize for any sort of wait.”

“It’s alright.” You reply, voice crackling and parched. “Thank you for making some time for me.”

“It’s my pleasure.  I am happy to accommodate any request of the General. The Divine Foresight owing me a favor is an added bonus.” She gives a snaggletooth smile with a tilt of her head. Despite your condition, you stifle a laugh. 

Jing Yuan appreciates the levity. 

“The General is good for them.” You tell her. Your voice is crackling and dry.

It makes Lei Huiling’s brow furrow. “The General is an honorable man, you think?”

“I know.” 

You squeeze Jing Yuan’s hand. It’s painfully heartfelt and vulnerable. Jing Yuan doesn’t think you’d reveal your affection with such ease if you weren’t so terribly beaten down.

Lei Huiling seems to sense this as well. She wheels up a chair and situates herself across from the two of you. “I know a bit of what you’ve been struggling with based on your intake information, along with the General’s messages. Could you describe it to me as well? As much detail as you can provide.”

Lei Huiling’s words make you look afraid. You look trapped, ensnared, and Jing Yuan wishes you wouldn’t. It’s the mixture of both guilt and fear that twists your pretty lips and has you mincing in the round, pitted chair you are sitting in. This is frightening for you, all of it, he knows. To have to bear details of something you’ve been so diligently trying to cope with (and hide, but that can be addressed later) clearly is causing you distress.

You squeeze his hand. Jing Yuan squeezes back with more force, and takes to rubbing his thumb over the back of yours. Only then do you begin to explain.

Your explanation is largely the same as the one you provided to him earlier. You do, however, add a handful of (concerning) details.

(“I-I took my abortive medication... maybe eight times. I know that’s too many—”)

(“I’ve been avoiding social s-settings, yes.”)

(“I don’t have much of a pack.”)

(“I haven’t slept well since this has all started.”)

Each admission sends Jing Yuan into a minor panic. He is so, so grateful he carries an extra scent patch on his person and was able to reapply his after tearing it off earlier. The last thing he needs is for you to be aware of his own spiral and machinations through his storm-charged scent.

“It must have been very difficult to go through what you have so far.” His healer gives you a sympathetic look. “Given your symptoms, I’d like to complete a standard exam, if that is alright with you. It would give us a baseline and establish the best ways to proceed to get you feeling better. Does that sound alright?”

You nod, “I’m o-okay with that. Can Jing Yuan— um, can the General stay?”

“Of course. He is welcome to stay for the exam if that would make you the most comfortable. I would like to check the cortisol levels in your slick, however, and that will require you to disrobe while we collect a sample.”

You eye him, think for a moment, then reply, “... He can leave for that part.”

Jing Yuan laughs and scents you with his wrist, “As you wish.”

He doesn’t enjoy leaving you alone, even if he’s only idling in the hallway outside of the exam room. The door is thin and draped with woven curtains, so the sounds inside are muffled, but he strains to hear you regardless. Never mind the various whispers and looks he garners from the various staff who see him keeping watch over an (his) omega. He needs the confirmation that you are—

(Okay.)

...

His healer taps through a tablet with a schooled expression but regards you warmly.

“So, let’s go over things. I will say, that the results of your exam and the few tests we ran are not all that surprising. Your slick does contain a high level of cortisol. You have severe pain in your major scent glands, which is indicative of internal inflammation and imbalance within your pheromonal system. It seems like your fever is lower than it has been, however your temperature is still not within normal range. These symptoms can be attributed to withdrawal symptoms for your specific suppressants.”

“... But, I’ve been taking my suppressants again. On a good schedule too.” You sound like you’ve been kicked. 

Jing Yuan doesn’t mean to, he swears. But, maybe, he shoots the healer a sharp look. Maybe.

She takes it in stride, “You have been, but sadly this type of suppressant isn’t very efficient at regulating after an intense withdrawal. I have not prescribed alyan root-based suppressants in many, many years due to this unfortunate quirk. I also believe your symptoms have been compounded due to overuse of your abortive medication that you took when you felt your heat was beginning. It’s a bad cocktail, though you have done well in trying to get you and your cycle back to a healthy stasis.”

“How do we start to remedy things?” Jing Yuan asks.

You look nervous.

“Really, there are two options, in this case. The one that I would recommend first is that we titrate you down on your current suppressants, until you are fully off of them. I’d prescribe a regulating medication as well to ease your symptoms while doing so. Once you’re titrated off, you can go through a heat. ”

You flinch like you’ve been slapped.

Lei Huiling continues, “... This option would be my recommendation. The best way to help your body recover is to allow for a natural heat cycle to re-establish. We can look into suppressant types and abortive varieties that are gentler on your body, and less prone to the types of side effects you’re experiencing, following your heat.”

You stare at your lap.

“... Is there anything else we can do?”

“There is only one other option that could be potentially viable. I can double the dose of your current suppressants and your symptoms should stabilize within the next several weeks. The downside of this is that, given that you take suppressants in the alyan-root family, the already high, necessary dose typically leads to difficult heats down the line, whenever your next occurs. Heat sickness is a given, and with your personal history and disposition to develop heat sickness already, I wouldn’t recommend this option.”

“I see.”  You sound like you’re about to cry. “I can understand why.”

Jing Yuan, who hasn’t spoken hardly at all, finds his voice carefully, “May we have a moment?”

“Of course.” She nods to him and offers another look. “Would you like a warm blanket? I can fetch one for you in the meantime.”

“... Yes, please.” You reply.

You’re quiet until Lei Huiling returns with a linen blanket, perfectly toasty. It probably isn’t a good idea to swaddle you in something so warm when you’re already feverish, but Jing Yuan concurs that you need the comfort in this moment. He wraps it around your shoulders and lingers.

“Would you like me to step out as well—?”

“No.” You interrupt, rapidly shaking your head. “... Please stay.”

Of course. Of course, he will.

...

You decide to proceed with the first option. 

It is not a decision made easily, even though you agree with Lei Huiling’s assessment that full cessation off of your suppressants is the best course of action in the long run. This decision is made with trepidation regardless. Lei Huiling procures several prescriptions (a tincture of dian orchid nectar, a tea of ginger and myrel root, some tablets that can be dissolved under the tongue that she specifies tastes like apricots, but aren’t made of them—) and writes a detailed, surprisingly legible course of treatment. Her phone number is scribbled at the bottom for you. 

You receive the piece of paper with shaking hands.

Lei Huiling prepares your first treatment right in the exam room. It’s a regulating tincture that smells almost too sweet as she unscrews the bottle and shows you how much to dose with the glass pipet (two-thirds of the way full) and where to eject it into your mouth for best results (the corner, under your tongue without touching your lips or tongue to the pipet.)

Jing Yuan commits the details to memory as you smack your lips with the taste. You grimace cutely. 

You leave the Alchemy Commission in a daze. Jing Yuan keeps you steady with a hand on your lower back, lingering and keeping you walking in a (mostly) straight line. 

He has— much to think about. To ruminate on. The bevy of information he received during your visit and the path forward to remedying you requires careful consideration. There are plans that need to be made, and relatively quickly. The sooner and more keenly Jing Yuan can make them, the sooner he can provide you ease—

(This is under the assumption that you want him involved in your heat.)

He thinks you do. He could be wrong. He could. However, given the way you lean into him, and scent his bicep every few steps, he doesn’t think he has much to worry about. Even if, perhaps, it will take you some time to come to this same conclusion. 

He is willing to wait.

There’s a little shop a few blocks down from the Alchemy Commission clinic that is selling noodle jelly bowls, iced and hot. You must be feeling better, as when you pass by the size, your eyes widen and you slow your already-slow pace. 

Jing Yuan orders you a bowl to split (iced, you need the cold—) and you settle at a table, tucked in a little courtyard, away from the midday foot traffic. You poke at the desert with a frown, spooning up some of the sweetened puffergoat milk that swirls at the top of the bowl. 

“I’m sorry.” You glance up at him, then back down at the bowl. 

(Ah, there it is.)

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“That’s hardly true. If I had remembered to take my suppressants during your heat, we— I— we wouldn’t be in this situation. I wouldn’t have hurt you and I wouldn’t be hurting like I am. I wouldn’t require all of this... excess attention. And for that, I apologize.” 

“... I accept your apology.” Jing Yuan acquiesces. “Though, I do find it unnecessary.”

“But you shouldn’t find it unnecessary. I know— I know I have been inattentive to you and hiding this from you. It’s not fair to you. You should be upset.” you exclaim, angrily shoving a mouthful of bright green tapioca noodles into your mouth.

“It doesn’t please me that you hid your situation. However, I understand why you did. You were afraid, weren’t you?”

“I mean, yes. I am still frightened, but that’s not an excuse to hurt you. And as a result, you now have to deal with all of... this. Which you don’t, I want to assure you, Jing Yuan. I appreciate your concern and help and presence, but I am capable of handling t-this on my own.”

You gulp. Jing Yuan didn’t think you would be so stubborn. 

“You speak as if I’m pulling teeth to simply be in your presence,” Jing Yuan says softly. Your hands ball into fists on the tabletop. “Do you think that?”

“I mean... maybe to a degree? Under current circumstances. You just c-care for me, and keep caring for me, and it must be hard, right?”

“It isn’t.” Caring for you has been the easiest thing he has done in centuries. He probes, “Why would you think that?” 

“Jing Yuan,” you steel yourself and look at him. Into him. “Y-You care for so many, so much already. You are the helm of the godship and bear its burdens as your own. You are as dutiful a general as you are a person, and I can only imagine the effort that is required of you, unrelentingly, at the helm of this vessel. I struggle to find my lapse in judgment and its consequences as anything other than another load for you to bear.”

He stares at you. You stare back. He folds his hands into a steeple and rests his chin on them.

You bring up a logical, fair point. It’s a valid concern to raise, and one that he has already considered. The Luofu is in peacetime. Looming threats have been accounted for and there are always several sets of eyes scanning for any potential new calamities waiting to happen. There are contingency plans, written out in various forms, and backed up across six different systems. Jing Yuan doesn’t exactly derive pleasure from his current duties as general, but there is a satisfaction in knowing that he has ample safeguards in place and is confident in his own abilities to handle unexpected scenarios in stride.

Over the seven centuries that Jing Yuan has been the Divine Foresight, he has become used to the vigilance and protection the Luofu requires. The care he extends to the Luofu is... almost a burden. If he were less duty-bound, it would be. 

The fact of the matter is that caring for you is not something he is duty-bound to do. He is not sworn and expected (beyond social convention) to be kind and caring to you. The careful, fledgling connection of something more vulnerable and adoring is his choice to have, keep, and hold. The softness that you share with him is just for him, and the care he provides to you is just for you. 

He does not think that telling you this fact so simply will satisfy you.

Instead, he steeples his hands, sets his chin atop them and asks:

“Dear, why do you see caring for yourself as an innate burden?”

You freeze, like you’ve been struck under the belly of a storm. Like you’ve been caught. 

“I don’t.”

“I’d implore you to reconsider. I do not know you to be a liar.”

“I— it’s not that simple.”

“It could be, couldn’t it?” 

(If you were honest, like he knows will allow you to release the painful-looking tension wound in your shoulders. It would ease you.)

You stumble over your words, chew them, and look close to tears. Jing Yuan does not falter or waver, not yet, not yet—

“It should be my job, shouldn’t it?” You say softly, down, through the bowl, shooting the sentiment down towards the Luofu’s core engines. “I shouldn’t need anyone to look after me, especially not you. E-even if it would be nice. And I like when you do.”

Jing Yuan thinks about what you divulged in Lei Huiling’s exam room. Your lack of a proper pack, thin familial connection, infrequent scenting— It all paints a clear picture of someone who has taken every opportunity to bear their burdens alone.

(It makes sense, then, why you offered yourself up to be Jing Yuan’s heatmate without hesitation. You intimately know the suffering of a lonely heat and you didn’t want him to struggle in that way.) 

“You are very capable, I can hardly think otherwise,” Jing Yuan itches to reach out for you, but not yet— “But, what if I want to care for you?”

“... You want to?”

“Yes, I would.” 

“... Just during my heat?” You ask, looking up at him demurely. It’s a submissive gesture, one that clearly portrays this insecurity that you shoulder. “Or, after too?”

All of it.

“However you’ll have me.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“How would you have me, though?”

“All ways!” You sniffle and your eyes shine. You’re reaching your limit, close to cracking. “I like that you care for me, Jing Yuan. I just don’t want to cause you any trouble or make you feel like you need to.”

“That’s one of the reasons why I enjoy caring for you so much,” Jing Yuan confesses. Now, he reaches across the table and sweeps his wrist across your own. Your scents mingle. “Because, it is wholly my want and my choice to care for you.”

It all slots together for you then. 

Your expression morphs first to one of relief, then intense sadness, followed by grief that makes your lip wobble. You are sharp, sharper than you seem often, and he knows that your own revelations hit you deep in the chest. Your warm scent goes to cloves and cinnamon and you look so, so sad. 

Your bowl of dessert soup is forgotten as Jing Yuan ushers you into his lap, turned away from any passerbys, covered and protected from any potential, curious eyes. 

“Do you believe me?” He asks, nosing at your neck to emulate a scenting. His touch is ginger and careful. He wouldn’t dare aggravate the ache there any further.

“I-I do.”

And he knows you do. He knows based on how you cup his jaw and barely resist kissing him on his lips. You’re too shy to in public; your eyes dart left and right to ascertain if it's a safe action. Jing Yuan makes the decision for you and presses a firm kiss on your forehead. 

“I’m glad you understand.”

“Uh-huh,” your voice goes weepy and weak. It stirs something in him, an unnameable thing he doesn’t know what to call still, but its presence feels just as familiar as it is intriguing. “T-Thank you for being patient with me.”

“Of course.”

He considers his next course carefully, choosing indulgence in the end. It’s something you both need after today.

Jing Yuan ensures that you are nestled close to his chest, beneath the curve of his chin. He pushes the tip of his index against your lips. It rests on the seam. You make a sweet, confused noise in front of your mouth. Jing Yuan only hums in reply, bundling you up a little closer still. It’s not the best venue for this, but he has never been known for his propriety in casual settings anyway. You are more than hidden enough. Only the ochre and violet lily thickets will be witnesses. 

He pushes his fingers into your mouth.

You startle, just barely, as Jing Yuan strokes your tongue with gentle motions. He watches how your lips part around his calloused fingers, how you shift your gaze from his eyes to his fingers, then to his eyes once more. It’s hopelessly endearing. Your trust is such a precious thing to covet, he only will treat you well. 

Your eyelids droop a moment or two later, tears dripping from the corners of your eyes as he rubs the pads of his fingers along your gums, feeling the ridges of his teeth. Your scent still tinges with sickness but the blooming, plush quality of it is unmistakable.

“Is this alright?”

You nod, bashful. 

He reminds you, “You may always tell me no or reject any advance, same as I can to you, understood?”

You nod again, cheeks warm as he thumbs over them. He knows you must know these things, but he wants to remind you. You do well with reassurance. 

Pheromones are present in spit, just as they are in sweat and slick. The amounts differ per body fluid, but in your current state, your saliva is potent. The small amount that leaks from the side of your lips is fragrant, spinning the scent of you around him. 

Jing Yuan allows himself to be content and a bit smitten.

He whispers to you, lips against your ear,  “What will the people of the Luofu think, hm? Their General with an omega in his lap, toying with them in public.”

You look up at him hopelessly, but do not bite his fingers. You are so good, so so good.

Jing Yuan only pulls his fingers away when he notices the uptick in the pedestrian activity in the streets nearby. It’s rush hour, and the sun will set soon. As pulls his fingers from your mouth, drenched in spit (and your pheromonal musk that comes with it), you flush and tuck your face against his neck. He can feel the heat of you still, a reminder of what must be remedied and tended to. 

You sense this as well, kissing his jaw fleetingly. 

There will be more, he knows. Your heat will come sooner rather than later, and there will be ample time for hidden tenderness in the comfort of your nest (which he is sure will be a splendid thing to lounge about, should you permit him entry.) Desires will be sated, and Jing Yuan will, if allowed, wet his palette with the scent and feel of you. There will be time to enjoy you, and for him to be enjoyed by you once more. Jing Yuan does not know what you will ask of him explicitly, or what you will need, but he is happy to ample his way to understanding. Morsel by morsel, bite by bite, you yield to him as he does to you. 

(You are no alpha to own him, he reminds himself. You lay no claim on him, his soul is untethered to yours, and the relief of that is immeasurable. The connection laid between you will be built in teeth and touch, but in a different way than the ones he was once so familiar with long ago.)

Jing Yuan finds himself almost eager to learn. 

[crag-dreams]

It’s the Saturday before Election Day 2024 here in the US, and stress/anxiety/fear/etc… is pretty high for a lot of people. That’s warranted, because another 4 years of Trump/GOP rule will harm so many people. You should do whatever you need to manage the next few days (including voting if you haven’t already), but I really want to encourage you to stop giving polls and “close race” media coverage much / any of your time or consideration.

Polling processes are wildly obsolete for how Millennial and Gen Z voters act compared to Gen X and Boomers (this is not a dig at these generations, just a factual observation). Polls are also easily manipulated to return a desired result, and the people running polls have a vested interest in getting your engagement. Keeping the results tight keeps eyeballs on them.

Similarly, the 24/7 media environment needs you constantly on edge and worried so you keep checking in and listening. They have no interest in a boring election or landslide victory. The majority of journalists have not risen to address this moment with the deliberate, in-depth reporting that we need. It’s far easier to throw together click-bait headlines to pump their numbers. It’s why they spend days covering the tiniest slip by Harris/Walz (and previously, Biden) while giving Trump/Vance a pass on every insane thing they say. Trump is *incredible* for news companies. He is so outrageous that their headlines write themselves, and as long as they don’t follow-up to truly report on him in a way that would end any other politician, they have unlimited content. Whatever you think about Biden, just remember: a single debate performance that wasn’t great was seized upon by the media (because it made for great engagement) and ended his candidacy. Trump can say the most batshit things (they’re eating the dogs!), and they minimize it at every opportunity, because he is good for them. They are sacrificing their journalistic integrity and responsibility at the expense of real people’s lives and rights.

So, what do we do if polls and most news coverage isn’t useful? Remember:

Trump lost the 2020 election. The Electoral College is the only reason it was even close. People were fed up then, and they are even more fed up now.

Roe was overturned by an activist Supreme Court that Trump is responsible for. In virtually every state-level election since then, the results have been outstandingly positive for Democrats, including in the Deep South™. This is why so many GOP politicians have stopped talking about abortion, even going so far as to remove their position from their websites, or directly contradicting themselves when asked about it. The only person making a decision about a woman’s body should be that woman, and these predominantly white dudes still don’t realize how badly they fucked up.

The majority of Trump’s former Cabinet and senior leadership have very publicly turned on him. While it would have been nice for them to do this earlier, it’s unprecedented to see so many prominent Republicans declare they will not vote for him. This doesn’t impact the hardcore MAGA crowd, but it absolutely speaks to more centrist Republican voters.

Trump has been convicted of sexual assault, and he is an adjudicated rapist. He’s been convicted of 34 felony indictments, with more to potentially come. Even though it seems like he never suffers consequences for these legal issues, it costs him voters. People who could justify supporting him before are finally reaching a limit, even if they don’t publicly admit it. (Some do!)

Also, more and more people who voted for Trump in 2016 and 2020 are willing to publicly admit they are tired of him and can’t do it again. His rallies are smaller and smaller, the crowds are less engaged, and, yes, people leave during his rambling rants more and more often.

Gen Z is getting to vote for the first time at any real scale. Say what you will about TikTok and other platforms, but they are more informed and showing up and caring about issues that didn’t move the needle for Gen X or Boomers. Remember the Access Hollywood, grab ‘em by the pussy, tape? That should have ended his original campaign, but it didn’t. Gen Z has found out about that, and it’s just one of so many things driving them to get out and vote. The turnout is going to be incredible.

Because we still use the stupid Electoral College, this election largely comes down to swing states. The Trump campaign has done almost everything imaginable to lose those voters. Whether it’s bashing unions (Trump said a child could do the same job as automotive workers building cars, he bragged about not paying overtime, etc…), immigrants (they’re eating the dogs, GOP-led states demonizing them), Puerto Ricans (calling their home a floating pile of garbage, Trump denying hurricane relief for almost two years), or women (abortion, telling women they should vote how their husband wants them to, Vance thinking their purpose is nothing more than baby-making, stay-home, wait-on-a-man’s every need), they are losing the swing states.

Elections are *incredibly secure and trustworthy.* The Trump/GOP camp has attacked this at every opportunity with virtually no success. The few instances of voter fraud we’ve seen in the last few years are almost entirely from Republicans. They have already started the narrative that the election is rigged if Trump loses. This narrative will only increase as results start to roll in on Tuesday. Don’t even worry about it. They will lose every / almost every single lawsuit they try to bring. It will have no impact on the eventual outcome.

Early voting, including absentee and mail-in ballots, turnout is incredibly encouraging. The higher the turnout, the better, and people are showing up. There’s fatigue and embarrassment on the GOP side (you’re gonna eventually hear from those voters that they stayed home, voted for Harris, etc…), and there’s excitement and motivation on the Dem side.

Are there reasons to be worried? Of course. The Trump campaign is going to try and obstruct the voting process in every way they can. They’re blocking poll monitors in Texas and Florida. Drop boxes in some states have been attacked. Voter rolls have been illegally purged. They’re bringing lawsuits (most of which they’ve already lost) even before Election Day. They’re going to claim fraud. They’ll probably incite violence again.

These are the actions of a desperate campaign that isn’t trying to actually win, because they know they’ve already lost.

So, we can acknowledge our stress, anxiety, and fear, but we don’t have to let it ruin the next few days. Get outside and enjoy (hopefully) beautiful Fall weather. Snuggle your pets. Listen to your favorite albums. Read a great book. Hang out with your people. Vote.

We’re a few days away from a massive weight being lifted from our shoulders. Don’t let it weigh you down until then.

[kitasgloves]

"Kiss Goodnight"

tracklist

— ♬ "I don't want to spend my life, life. Without your kiss goodnight"

— ♬ Sakusa x Reader, timeskip, SFW, fluff, fem reader, friends to lovers, no beta just Kiyoomi being terribly in love

For a long time, Sakusa Kiyoomi was accustomed to not caring about anything that didn't concern or affect him. All he regarded was volleyball, hygiene, and his health. He doesn't care about how others perceive him, he doesn't care about their opinions, and he doesn't care about getting along with people. Sakusa doesn't care about anything at all. But he wished someone would tell him why he still stops and stares every time you call.

He knows that girls like you, don't come with guarantees. But why does Sakusa bother lingering around you? Why does he often seek you in a room? Why does he make an effort to talk to you? And why do you have such a profound effect on him? Sakusa knows all he shared with you was friendship, but if you've got to spend your time, why won't you spend it with him?

During the period he met and grew to know you as the team manager, changes began to occur with him. Changes that cause concern and changes that he knows you were the cause. Sakusa finds his social battery persisting when you start talking with him. He looks forward to group nightouts when you're invited. And outstandingly, he sees crowds more bearable when he's close to you, especially when you take hold of his hand. During the evenings he'll walk home with you, seeing how near you get to him with each step, Sakusa hoped you and he would kiss goodnight before parting ways. If you think that it's right, he hopes you and him kiss goodnight. But, it never happens.

Not that he started caring about people, he just became less gloomy. Sakusa just learned to ease up because of you. He notices how he easily lets people approach him and how he doesn't immediately push them away. He can hold conversations longer and even crack a smile or two. Most of all, Sakusa becomes more confident in showing the world who he is. Because he was more than just a prickly-looking, serious-toned, and intimidating athlete. He was a man passionate about things he cared about. And it also involved you.

As subtly and quietly as he could, Sakusa cared for you in both minuscule and major ways, something so foreign but refreshing to experience. Offering spare wet wipes during lunch, holding the umbrella for you when it was raining or sunny, or even combing your hair back when you were throwing up during one of your hangovers. He never verbally expressed his affection because he believed his actions were loud enough. But will you pick those loose signals up?

Should you invite him in to spend the night on the floor? Sakusa realizes that he doesn't mind. How absurd as it may seem, especially from a clean freak like him, that he doesn't care about sleeping on the dusty floor of your bedroom if it means he gets to spend the night with you. If you prefer him not to, best believe he'll be a gentleman or you can show him the door. However, hope blooms in his chest when you take him to your room that night after watching movies. There was an unexplainable glimmer in your eye that blinded him in the dark as he sat on the foot of your bed.

"Kiyoomi?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you want to stay over?"

"Sure"

And you smiled at him. At that moment, he doesn't want to spend his life with anyone else. He slept on a cold futon but his body felt flushed with heat. Sakusa was peering up at you on your bed and you gaze back at him with a playfulness that makes his cheeks ache from grinning. 

"Good night, Kiyoomi"

"Good night, [Name]"

Sakusa didn't want to close his eyes without reaching over to kiss you on the forehead. The action makes you momentarily freeze but let out a giggle that makes his chest flutter. Why don't we kiss goodnight? Sakusa thinks. Though it might just end his life. But he's pretty sure that it's right that you and him should kiss goodnight. 

The longer he looked at you, the more it made sense. And over time Sakusa couldn't hold back his emotions any longer without spilling them to you. But call him delusional but he's beginning to see you returning his affections. His eyes feed him with encouragement every time he sees your smile wider when he's around, or how your voice sounded more tender when calling his name, or how gentle your hand felt on his arm. Even if the two of you grew more obvious, Sakusa needed confirmation.

Valentine's Day was naturally busy with couples walking around and special events made for lovers. There were promos for the team Sakusa played with that he had to deal with and exclusive events for fans, such as meet and greets. Sakusa couldn't wait for the day to end so he could shoot his shot at you while today lasted. After hundreds of talking and taking pictures with fans, Sakusa bolted into the showers and got dressed. 

"Oh, Omi-kun's got a date!"

"I bet it's [Name]-chan!"

"It is! I saw him asking her out after the meet and greet!"

Chatter filled the showers, and although Sakusa rolled his eyes, there was a tint of pink on his cheeks and a hint of a smile. He nods goodbye to his teammates and rushes to meet you at the restaurant he suggested. Sakusa arrives breathless but oxygen was even more severely knocked out of his lungs when he saw your alluring figure waiting for him at the entrance. For a six-foot man, Sakusa felt absolutely weak.

"You good? You're sweating a lot"

You tilt your head at him and he waves it off as he offers his arm for you to take before entering the restaurant. Dinner was filled with hushed laughter and exchanging dirty jokes. Sakusa thought how impressive it was that he didn't look away from you at least once and he finds you doing the same. It took all of his willpower not to lean over the table and kiss you then and there, not caring if he got lipstick stains on his lips. He holds back because he was reserving it for later.

After dinner, you and he strolled around the city with linked arms and intertwined hands. Sakusa couldn't help but stare and think a lot about your mouth, he wanted to shut you up so badly with his mouth whenever you talked. But he's not the type to be into making out in public. So, he clings on to the remains of his patience as he takes you home. He was about to lean in at your doorstep and kiss you goodnight, this time on the lips, but you stopped him with a grip on his tie.

"You should stay over"

Oh, Sakusa's heart skips a beat. You were not asking him if he wanted to stay over, you were telling him to stay over. And he agrees quicker than a blink of an eye. He shrugs off his coat and strips it into his underclothes, you brush your teeth and change into your sleepwear. But you both didn't plan on sleeping yet. While tucked under the covers with the television on, Sakusa gives you one look to find your eyes drooping, it was his chance.

You felt a pair of soft and eager lips on yours, enough to jolt you awake. Sakusa was kissing you and you sprung into action by wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him close to deepen the kiss. He hums into the kiss as his hands snake around your waist while he towered over you. The happiest chemicals burst throughout his body as you open your mouth to invite his tongue in, he obliges and steals a moan out of you. Feverent hands pull and grip each other close while in a liplock as you two pull away after what felt like eons.

"Kiyoomi..."

His name sounded breathless on your lips and his guts suddenly felt like mush. Then he leans in to steal a kiss, and another, and another until you laugh and push him away because of how greedy he is.

"I'm terribly in love with you, [Name]"

"You're lucky I feel the same way"

"So, can we kiss goodnight?"

Sakusa looks into your eyes and smiles when you roll your eyes before cackling at him. He was beyond glad now you and he can kiss goodnight. When you lean forward and give him a long smooch on the lips, he lets out a relieved sigh.

"I don't want to spend my life without your kiss good night"

He says and your eyes soften. As the television switches off and you both curl under the covers, Sakusa gazes at you with his onyx orbs filled with warmth as he goes to stroke your cheek before going forward one last time to kiss you goodnight. Your eyes shoot open and grin as you return the favor and it makes Sakusa's limbs feel like melting butter. Yeah, for the rest of his life, Sakusa needs your kiss goodnight.

©kitasgloves (do not steal or copy)

[theblue6ook]

A Mundane Day

Summary: Is it ever really mundane office life as Bruce Wayne’s assistant? Bruce saves Y/N’s brothers from suspension.

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!reader

a/n: Hello, hello. I hope everyone enjoys this fic. If I forgot to add you to the tag list please let me know! Enjoy :) [B (23) Y/N (22)] [Eventual slow burn with Bruce] [Y/N/N is your nickname]

It was 3 pm. Bruce stretched, rising from his desk chair, with a groan. If he was lucky, he could take a nap before his night shift. Glancing at his desk, he sighed at the files there. A mix of his cases with Bane and Wayne Enterprise documents. He felt like groaning as he sorted them out and threw his case files into his briefcase. Pulling the Wayne Enterprise documents into a stack, he slipped a paperclip at the top to secure it.

It had been a relatively boring day. There weren't many meetings or executives to debate with, just lots of paperwork. Everyone was getting ready for the next quarter, and the files were coming in hot. Not to mention, he and Y/N hadn’t been the most comfortable around each other. After her broken engagement and falling asleep in each other's arms, it was like walking on eggshells. No one knew where the other stood, and Y/N had just become single. Bruce didn’t want to be that guy. So, they were lightly stepping around each other, waiting for the other to crack.

It sounds so immature or superficial to think about with everything else going on in his life. Paperwork, cases, and patrol, and here he is worrying about how to interact with a girl. How old is he, fifteen? But still, he couldn't help himself but think back to her body. How it molded against his, pressed chest to chest, with knees knocking. The sweats she wore still smell like her. It made him want to dunk himself in cold water. Tell himself to forget it. After what happened to Rachel, he knew he shouldn't. She barely made it away from him with her life, and she was lucky all she got was feargassed. Y/N deserved better than that.

Stepping out of his office and into Y/N's. She sat quietly at her desk with her blue light glasses tucked into her hair, knawing on a red pen. She was in intense focus. He silently handed her his stack of files, and she quietly mumbled a thank you, still focused on the work in front of her. Bruce moved to the coat rack to slip on his jacket with mild difficulty. Last night, he tried following one of Bane's freighter trucks. It had not gone well for him.

Finally, he shrugged the coat on in one motion, trying to minimize the pain as much as he could, while hoping to appear as normal as possible. Y/N glanced up at him as he prepared to leave, but once he shrugged his coat on, his button-down shirt slipped forward, and a bruise appeared bright and uncovered. 

The bruise was a bright, ugly purple that took up a large chunk of his collarbone and peck. Her eyes widened, "Oh my god, Bruce."

Bruce smiled lightly, playfully rolling his eyes. She used his first name. It never happened much unless she was either outstandingly pleased or uncomfortably serious. Bruce loved it and would take it either way, especially since it broke the silence. 

Y/N rounded the desk in a flash and took him by the collar. She pulled his face down to her level, trying to get a good view of the bruise. Bruce again rolled his eyes, trying to act like it was no big deal. Slowly, he worked to pull away, but she manhandled him, pulling him back down harder, popping the top button on his shirt. He tried to act oblivious, "Y/N, what are you doing? You know, if anyone else did this, it would be harassment." 

Y/N watched the bruise silently, with her brows furrowed. She looked over the top of his shoulder down to his peck. Without thinking ahead, she stuck out her hand and placed her cold palm on his warm chest. He tensed. At the temperature or her touch, she wasn't sure, but she smoothed her hand over the bruise. It was like ink had stained his skin. She looked up at him, frowning. He was closer than she thought, her nose almost hitting his chin. "What is this?"

“A bruise,” he stated plainly. Her eyebrow rose, and Bruce sighed, “I’ve been spelunking.”

“Spelunking?” she said quickly, “What is spelunking?”

“A rich man's sport.”

“Mr.Wayne-”

“It’s cave exploration,” he admitted, smirking down at her. 

“If people belonged in caves, they would be there,” she was interrupted by a harsh ring. Pausing, she looked up at him once more, “This conversation is not over. You stay there.”

He thought about making his exit, but she would no doubt follow him whether she was on the phone, or not.

She cleared her throat, “Bruce Wayne’s office this is Y/N… Yes, this is she… What? You’re kidding… Yes, yes I understand. I’ll be there as soon as I can… Okay, thank you.”

Covering her face with her hands, she groaned. She moved on quickly, though, shoving files in her bag. “What’s going on?”

“It’s nothing.” Bruce raised his eyebrow at her, and she looked over her shoulder at him, “My brothers are in the principal's office. I have to go pick them up and talk to the office about it. If I leave now, I can catch the bus-”

"I can drive you-"

"That's really not necessary-"

"Y/N, don't be ridiculous. Come on." He walked out of their office with a swagger, as if she didn't just catch the bruise on his collarbone and she really had no choice but to follow him. 

"Didn't Alfred drop you off?" she called after him, "I don't want to bother him."

"No," he laughed, "I can drive myself, you know."

They took the elevator down to the garage, and in his own personal spot was a four-seat, scissor-door Gordan Murray. Y/N had only heard about this car. It was over two million dollars, in a sparkling black that reflected blue in the sun. Oh, she wanted to drive that car.

He looked behind him and flipped her door open, "You getting in?"

She didn't know what to do but laugh. Come on he mumbled grabbing her bag and slipping it in the back before she got in the car. He closed it behind her like a gentleman. The interior was a mix of black and white leather. The seats were peak comfort and she wondered if this was what heaven was like.

The car rode like a beauty and they sat in blissful silence for some time. She saw Bruce glancing at her every now and then, curiously. She finally said, “What’s up?”

Truth be told, he was observing her. He needed to see if he had crossed a line when he pulled her into his arms. All he wanted to do was blurt out did I make you uncomfortable? Would you do it again? But everything in his head told him it would only lead to disaster, so he opted to ask a different question. “Two brothers then?”

“Two brothers in trouble,” she replied. 

“Parents couldn’t help out?”

Y/N laughed dryly, “I’m their guardian and emergency contact when it comes to school. We keep Frank out of it.”

“Frank?”

She sighed and spoke cooly, “My dad.”

Her cool tone seemed annoyed by the topic, but Bruce could tell her body language was anxious. Nodding silently, he decided not to pry. Bruce wasn’t even sure where he stood with Y/N, he’d rather not test his luck asking questions about her family, so they rode once again in blissful silence.

Pulling into the school parking lot, Bruce pulled Y/N’s hand away from the door handle and moved out of the car to open the door for her. He had another pleasant memory of his mother, be a gentleman, Brucie, pop into his head. It had become second nature to him now. As Y/N stepped out of the car, she noticed Bruce stepped with her toward the school. Turning to him, she said, “You don’t have to come with me.”

“I drove you here,” he said. She narrowed her eyes at him and he shrugged. “Honestly, I’m kind of in it now.” 

Y/N huffed, turning to reluctantly walk inside, and Bruce followed after her. Y/N knew if she really pushed, he would have stayed by the car, but she didn’t even feel like arguing. She had enough on her mind. Fighting, she thought, I’m gonna kill them. Buzzing into the office, she turned quickly to him, pointing at one of the chairs sat in the office lobby, “You can sit there.” 

“Whatever you want. I’m here for moral support,” Bruce replied as he plopped into one of the plastic, cushioned seats.

Liar, Y/N thought as she approached the receptionist's desk. The receptionist, an older woman with a shorter, choppy haircut, had given Y/N the basic rundown of what happened, but it felt like a few details were missing. Some boys were arguing over an article with Carl, and it caused a little tiff between them when Lucas got involved, and that’s when the… physical violence started, she had relayed to Y/N. What article? Why did Lucas get involved? Who was Carl fighting with? It wasn’t making sense. 

“You can follow me,” she said. She moved behind the desk to lead her over to the principal's office, but not before glancing over at Bruce Wayne and looking back towards Y/N with a curious look. Y/N mumbled, confused, “After you.”

Bruce had sat nice and close to the entrance of the principal's office. He wanted to be in range if Y/N needed anything. Not that she would, but just in case. God, what is wrong with him?

“Why would you fight him?” she scolded, sharply.

He could hear her brother try to defend himself, “He needed help!”

So, that must be Lucas.

“He needs mental help,” she teased back. “Seriously, you’re already on your third strike. What’s going on?”

“They were talking shit about you,” Bruce could hear who he could only assume was Carl mumble. That’s my cue.

It seemed as if Bruce had manifested in the doorway, “What’d they said about your sister?”

“What are you doing in here?!” she bellowed at him. Bruce took in the situation. Y/N was squatted in front of her brothers, who sat in similarly uncomfortable cheap chairs as they had in the lobby. She had her hands placed on their forearms, in a comforting manner. The oldest one, Lucas, looked like he was maturing well. He could see similarities between him and Y/N, but for the most part, he had his own individual look. His eyes were bordering on sunken in, and his cheek sported black and blue from his fight earlier. The second boy Y/N was with had to be Carl. He looked younger and impressionable. He clung to Y/N’s arm as if she hung the moon and sported a black eye and busted lip. Not only that, he was the spitting image of Y/N, but that wasn’t even the most shocking part. There at the desk was no one. No principal. Not a single person. 

“Where is your principal?” he responded, unbothered.

Carl stared up at Bruce Wayne flabbergasted, “Holy shit.”

“Don’t swear,” Y/N said with clenched teeth. “You need to go sit in the lobby-”

“Sorry, I’m late, Ms.Y/L/N,” the principal stepped in. “I had to settle a matter with the other student.” Their principal, a stout man with a slick combover, looked over at Bruce Wayne with what seemed to be slight shock and then a knowing look. He cleared his throat and gestured to the two empty chairs. “Please sit down. It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr.Wayne.”

“I’m sorry he really doesn’t need to be here-”

“No, it’s fine,” he said, interrupting her. Bruce looked over at Y/N and gestured his hand for her to sit first. She was embarrassed enough as it was, she really didn’t want him to hear about her dysfunctional family here, at her brothers' school, of all places. 

“I’m sorry,” Y/N broke the silence, “Where are the other student's parents? I’d like to speak to them about this whole situation.”

“Well, that would be me, Ms.Y/L/N.” You have got to be fucking kidding me. Y/N looked over at Bruce in disbelief. Should the principal be handling situations his own son is involved in? She certainly didn’t think so. 

“Don’t you think that’s a little inappropriate,” Bruce started, “to be handling your own child’s punishment? Regarding the situation, I mean.” Y/N gave him a sideways glance telling him it wasn’t his place to butt in, but he seemed to ignore it.

“Mr.Wayne,” the principal seemed to become defensive quickly, “I don’t suggest you put your nose into other people's business. These aren’t your kids.” Wasn’t he the one to tell Bruce to sit in? Y/N became visibly annoyed.

“As a donator,” Bruce smirked, and Y/N felt her ears perk up, “I just can’t support a school that handles issues in such a way. You understand?”

The principal’s face turned white, and every negative feeling Y/N had about Bruce Wayne, had dissipated. She could kiss him on the mouth.

Oh, he was good. He was so good at getting around people, getting exactly what he wanted to be. She felt a sigh of relief leave her chest, and Bruce placed a knowing hand on her knee. He was letting her know, I’ve got you. 

-

After the sour meeting with Carl and Lucas's principal, Y/N had suggested she and the boys take the bus home, despite her brother's protests. Bruce simply wouldn't allow it; he had other plans for the four of them. So here they all sat at Lucy’s Pancakes, a breakfast diner near the office. Y/N couldn’t even be bothered to be annoyed with the change in plans after Bruce’s stunt earlier. Her brothers might have been suspended if he hadn’t stepped in.

So she pleasantly ate her Choc-O-Chunk pancakes sitting across from Bruce Wayne, who looked like peak domesticity. He gave his full attention to her brothers, answering their every question and whim. With his shirt slightly unbuttoned and his sleeves rolled up, she couldn't help but grin. It was all too sweet.

Her brothers threw all kinds of questions at him. 

How much was your car?

What do you even do?

How did you meet our sister?

How much money do you have?

How many girls have you dated?

“So you broke up Y/N and Russ huh? I’d call it an upgrade.”

Y/N swore her head had completely swiveled when Carl asked that question. Bruce looked up at her, unsure how he should respond. He had to remind himself it wasn't his place, but he found himself shaking his head anyway. Y/N raised her eyebrows, "Carl, what?! No-"

Bruce cleared his throat and slipped out of the booth, "I think I should go pay the check."

Y/N couldn't help but feel so embarrassed, watching Bruce head toward the cashier. "Okay, not funny, Carl. What are you talking about?"

“You didn’t see the article?” he asked.

"That asshole kid was saying you were Bruce Wayne's bitch," Lucas said angrily, "Carl headbutted him."

"The article in the Daily Planet,” Carl handed her his cracked iPhone. There on the screen was her and Bruce at her birthday dinner. Y/N was photographed with Bruce’s arm on her bare waist, fingertips dipping into her dress. He was whispering in her ear in the picture, and she blushed about as red as her dress, but other than that, she looked good. It was the headline that shocked her. Bruce Wayne Breaks Up Assistant’s Engagement By Lois Lane. She snatched the phone out of her brother's hand. 

Bruce Wayne’s assistant, Y/F/N Y/L/N, was seen at The Ocelot wearing her engagement ring, but where was it the next day? Bruce Wayne might be the answer. 

Sources say the bachelor's assistant was involved in a four-year engagement with her high school sweetheart, Danny Russell. After witnesses saw Wayne mingling with Y/L/N in the Ocelot, the assistant appeared ringless as she walked into Wayne Enterprises the next day. Sounds like a classic romance trope to me-

“This is bullshit,” Y/N read.

“I dunno,” Lucas spoke pointing to the picture. “You look pretty close there.”

She slapped his hand out of the way, “Bruce is not the reason I’m done with Russ-”

“Your sister was lucky to dump that cheater,” Bruce emerged again, placing a tip down on the table. 

Carl turned toward Y/N for confirmation. Once he realized it was true, his eyes turned cold, “I’ll burn his house down.”

“He couldn’t afford a house and even if he could it’s none of your business,” she spoke pushing Carl’s head down, “now eat your pancakes.”

@pastelsweaters-and-bubble-t @mariadvorak @100520s @st0rmyt @maxinehufflepuffprincess @padsfirewhisky @moejoeflow @pank0w @qardasngan

[ivryne]

late night, telephones ˖ ࣪

⋆ ᳝ ֺ alhaitham x gn!reader | modern high school!au

— in which Kaveh made it his life mission to find out who is his roommate’s secret lover. [ pt two here ]

“Yes, goodnight darling. I’ll see you tomorrow. Yeah, love you too.”

Accidentally overhearing Alhaitham’s late night phone call was one thing Kaveh didn’t plan on. But hearing those words spur from his literally cold-as-ice tongue made him question his existence. Alhaitham?? Being affectionate with someone???? Saying ‘I love you’ back??? Was Kaveh about the be called up to celestia and live his remaining life with the primodial one??

Okay it’s not even about the fact that he called them darling. OR THE FACT THAT HE SAID I LOVE YOU BACK. Even though those facts alone were something he desperately need to talk about later. But one thing Kaveh was mostly surprised at was the fact that someone wanted to be affectionate with him.

That made him wonder. Like the green haired moron does literally nothing but sit and read. Without his pretty face, perfect brawns, and outstandingly smart brain, he would be nothing. No but seriously, did you ever see Alhaitham taking a step forward to start a conversation? No, exactly! In fact he’s the one that takes the initiative to stop them.

So from now on, Kaveh decided to make it his life mission to find out who exactly is willing to suffer for the sake of being with Alhaitham.

Going to his lists of candidates he has…uhm. He can’t really think of anyone right now rather than the librarian that spends 24/7 in the library. I mean he guessed they do have one thing in common. But no let’s cross that out.

Oh yeah! Alhaitham was in the student council. He was there as secretary! Okay that opened up a few spots for some people Alhaitham could be dating.

Okay so far here is his list:

1. Vice president of the student council, Cyno

Notes: possibility 40%. Seen them talk before but they hate each other sm. Honestly giving enemies to lovers vibe but didn’t Cyno had a thing w Tighnari? Idk need to check again.

2. Student council head of social media department, Nilou

Notes: possibility 60%. Very very pretty, single too (I think??) Seen them talk but I think only abt student council matters (or is it??). Kinda too good for Alhaitham. She doesn’t seem to be the type that likes cold guys. Does that cross her out??

3. Student council head of sports department, Dehya

Notes: possibility -100%. Definitely not. Rumour spreading around that she’s dating Dunyazard. Ship them sm ngl if she turned out to he dating Alhaitham I’ll kill him for ruining my ship. But overall definitely not.

4. Student council president, [ Name ]

Notes: possibility 25%. Nah bro they too good for him. They’re literally the definition of social butterfly and he’s likes the opposite. So many ppl chasing after them fr so if they turned out to be taken by Alhaitham, I’ll personally go back to celestia myself.

So far that was the list! It was okay so far but he needed more evidence. The one with most percentage on his list was Nilou. He’ll have to ask around to find more candidates too. But he was sure that the list of candidates wouldn’t be more than 5.

Before you questioned Kaveh to why didn’t he just asked Alhaitham, it’s because he would just stare at him blatantly and said “It’s not your problem” ! Honestly, getting an answer from Alhaitham aside for calculus matters is extremely difficult.

He did his research and observations. Alhaitham goes to the library every day (literally). He spends his time there reading the same kind of shit he does at home, staying quietly at a remote corner, away from all the other students.

There was no way this man is taken. The problem is he doesn’t even try. Like at all. 0 efforts. If Kaveh was his lover, he would’ve dump his ass in public and let him suffer the embarrassment. The worst part about that is the fact that he probably won’t even care!

After what seemed like 30 minutes, Kaveh decided that all was hopeless and finally went his merry away. Ah, if only he stayed just a minute more. Then he wouldn’t have missed your approaching figure heading towards the man whose nose is stuck in a book.

“Hi.” A small smile graced your lips, your eyes melt into those turquoise hues, one that reeked of fondness and admiration.

No words of greetings has yet to leaves his tongue, but the way he scooted over to the right, indicating you too sit by him was more than enough.

“So, when are we going to tell him?” Alhaitham averted his gaze from his book unto you. His eyes slightly squinted, showcasing evidence of him clearly thinking.

“Is it really equivalent for him to know?” Your boyfriend asked, earning a soft chuckle from you.

“Statically speaking, not really. But the way he’s searching for candidates is so hilarious and amusing to watch, don’t you think, darling?” Alhatham lifted his book up to eye level, covering the dust of pink that shimmered around his features.

He pondered awhile before replying “Ah you’re not wrong. It is quite the fun to see him run around chasing for some bit of evidence. A mastermind are you, my love?” Now it was your turn to flush shades of red. You can see the smile of adoration on his eyes cascading through the shades of his irises.

Times like these are where you love him most. Where the two of you sit in the presence of one another, quietly scheming and watching that friend of yours running around like a detective on a case. Seeing him desperately looking for the answer when it is right in front of him, sitting cross legged and maneuvering the most amusing smile.

do not repost, share, or copy ! Reblogs and likes very much appreciated!! Thankyou for taking ur time to read this hope you enjoyed it! Follow me for more xx

©️ shrslair.

[bigmpregnm]

Becoming a Broodfather - Part 3

[Story Collection] | [Part 2] [●] [Part 4]

“Something smells delicious, and someone looks delicious,” Ashton said when he entered the kitchen and found Dalton, another of Tim’s husbands, cooking while only wearing an apron.

“Oh, thanks for both compliments, big daddy,” Dalton responded, calling Ashton by a playful and friendly name he had for him, referring to his future as a broodfather.

Dalton moved away from the stove, and Ashton had the chance to inspect his body in detail. Dalton was almost as tall as Ashton but much thinner; most people described him as a twink. Dalton’s arms weren’t muscular, and even though he had been pregnant several times, his legs hadn’t gotten much thicker. However, Dalton had a delicious-looking bubble butt, which he loved to show off by not wearing anything but the apron when he was in the father’s wing.

Since Dalton was a twink, his big belly and big pecs looked outstandingly large on his frame, even though they were small compared to other men in the house. Dalton carried triplets in his belly and one additional baby in each of his pecs, totaling five big babies that never stopped moving and kicking. He spent most of his time in the kitchen cooking, so he fed his babies constantly, making them grow huge.

“Well, your food is always great, and... you know, I like that cute ass of yours a lot,” Ashton said, approaching and winking at Dalton. Ashton was more forward than usual, but it wasn’t only because of his new thoughts but also due to the several times they had sex in that kitchen over the last five months.

“Someone is in a good mood today? Any special reason for it?” Dalton picked up two plates and served large portions of scrambled eggs with bacon for the two of them. “I know you like your protein, so here it is. A big meal for a big, sweet guy.” Dalton smiled and removed his apron, revealing his massive, half-hard dick.

“I’d add a sausage, but I don’t think it’ll fit on these plates,” Ashton responded, looking down at Dalton’s massive dick, which rose to full mast in an instant, smacking against his triplet-filled belly.

Dalton laughed and reached down to rub and stroke his almost 2-foot-long dick. “You’re definitely in a mood. What’s the occasion?” Dalton asked while both devoured their breakfast like vacuums in a few seconds.

“The occasion? I just realized I can have lots of fun with you, Aaron, Byron, and Carson.” Ashton waddled to stand behind Dalton, pushing his belly against the twink’s back and making the gasp.

“Wha-what do you mean?” Dalton asked with a grin while Ashton wrapped his powerful arms around the twink’s torso to hug him tight and push his bulge against the bubble butt. Ashton caressed the sides of Dalton’s belly and his pecs while the babies kicked up a storm. Dalton heavily panted as he tilted his head back to enjoy Ashton’s touch.

“I know you enjoy it when I touch you like this. I know you love when I whisper in your ear to tell you what I’m going to do with you,” Ashton said, reaching around Dalton’s body to grip his massive dick to firmly stoke it.

Ashton started passionately rubbing and stroking Dalton’s dick while also shoving his bulge between Dalton’s asscheeks. “You understand that I could take you right here if I wanted? And that you wouldn’t be able to do anything against it? You’d be begging me for more instead,” Ashton whispered in Dalton’s ears as he leaned forward.

“Yes, big daddy. You can do whatever you want,” Dalton responded, fully surrendering to Ashton’s demands. “I’m not going to stop you. I’m here for you.”

“That’s it. That’s all I needed to know, but not yet. You’ll have to wait like the others,” Ashton said, stroking Dalton’s massive dick some more and causing a river of pre to leak out of his slit.

Ashton kissed Dalton’s cheeks and moved away from the twink, leaving him breathless and hot. Dalton looked at Ashton with evident desperation, but Ashton only smiled and slapped Dalton’s bubble very hard.

“You can’t be serious,” Dalton said, chuckling as he tried to stop the leaking on his dick.

“I am. Keep your dick hard for me until I come back to you later,” Ashton commanded, making Dalton caress his dick as the leaking continued.

“Yes, big daddy. I’ll wait for you.” Dalton smiled and put on his apron again to start cooking some more.

Ashton grinned and caressed his own dick, which was oozing some pre, causing a large wet spot on his jockstrap’s pouch. After slapping Dalton’s ass again, he adjusted his jockstrap and headed for the family wing. Messing up with the husbands was fun, but Ashton’s love for his coming babies made him enjoy the time he could spend with all the children Tim had had with his husbands.

The father’s wing and the family wing were connected by a long hall. I was adorned with photos of Tim and his husbands through their pregnancies. Ashton stopped for a few seconds to check on them again, smiling at the magnificent sight of all those men during so many pregnancies. Ashton couldn’t help but sigh when he realized they all looked happy. He hadn’t felt alright about Tim’s ways when he first moved to the house, but he came to understand that it made them all happy.

“Ready to add many photos to our gallery?” Eaton, another of Tim’s husbands, asked as he approached Ashton on his way to the family wing.

“Oh, yeah, you know... I’m having 24 kids, so that’s a great addition to the brood,” Ashton responded, patting his belly and turning to face Eaton.

“You know that’s not what I mean. We all know you’re going to be an amazing broodfather.” Eaton winked at Ashton as he passed by, making him smile.

Eaton was even more muscular than Ashton. His muscles bulged in all directions, dwarfing Ashton’s imposing figure. Eaton’s torso was exposed because his huge pecs and belly made it hard for him to find comfortable clothes. His belly was pretty big, with large octuplets moving and kicking nonstop. Also, even among his muscular upper body, his pecs were enormous, not because he carried babies in them but due to his outstanding milk production, which worked great with Eaton’s love for kids. He was responsible for most of the feeding because nobody else produced as much milk in the house.

He wore baggy sweatpants to cover his lower half, but they left nothing to the imagination. The sweatpants couldn’t hide his thick, muscular thighs and massive butt; they accentuated them instead. Also, Eaton carried one baby in each of his balls, giving him a large bulge that strained the sweatpants’ fabric. Ashton had admired Eaton’s physique since the moment they met, but now he looked at the muscular man with different eyes.

As Eaton sat on a sofa to take a break before entering the family wing, Ashton approached with a mischievous grin. Ashton marveled at Eaton’s bulging body. Every inch of the big man’s body looked so full and strong that even muscular Ashton couldn’t help but be impressed.

“My pecs are so full. I hope these babies will help me with the pressure,” Eaton said, massaging his pecs as Ashton stood before him.

“I’m sure they’ll help, but I don’t think your pecs will change that much,” Ashton said as he pushed his hips forward to push his cum-stained jockstrap against the front of Eaton’s belly.

“What are you doing?” Eaton said, but Ashton swayed his hips, rhythmically rubbing his bulge against Eaton’s belly.

Ashton leaned forward and started rubbing Eaton’s belly in big circles, making the muscular man moan. “Your belly is so big, and look at those enormous pecs. Those babies can barely swallow fast enough. I could get you even bigger and fuller with babies, and your pecs will blow up to feed all those kids.” Ashton pushed his bulge harder against Eaton’s belly.

“Oh, it would be so nice,” Eaton said between moans as Ashton reached lower to also tease his bulge. “So many babies… so big.” Eaton closed his eyes as Ashton’s ministrations continued, making Eaton pant heavily.

“Yeah. I know you love kids, and I’m sure you’d carry so many of my kids so nicely in this muscular body.” Ashton moved his hands to Eaton’s pecs and started massaging his massive pecs, squeezing and kneading them. “My hands would be all over you, all the time.”

“Oh, yes, please.” Eaton moaned louder as Ashton teased his nipples. “I want it. I need it!”

“You’ll have it, but not now.” Ashton smiled and stepped backward.

Eaton was lost in pleasure already, but as Ashton moved away, he came out of his trance. “You are meant for this. Fuck! You’re meant to be a broodfather! Fuck, I want your kids! So badly,” Eaton said, his hard dick stretching his sweatpants to the limit.

Ashton winked at Eaton and helped him stand up to continue their walk to the family wing. As they walked, Eaton thought about random stuff to make his dick go soft to avoid being around the kids with a hard-on. Ashton picked up a massive robe from a closet near the family wing, available for the fathers to wear to interact with the kids without scaring them with their nakedness or skimpy outfits. The robes were massive, so Ashton had no problem covering his almost naked body entirely.

Once both were good to enter the family wing, they walked in, and a crowd of teens, kids, toddlers, and babies ran or crawled toward them. Both muscular men smiled and opened their arms to hug them, but Ashton couldn’t stop smiling when he saw Eaton with the kids. The big man was great with them, and the first thing he did in the mornings was sit on a rocking chair to breastfeed all the hungry babies. Since there were a lot of babies, the line was long, so he spent the entire morning feeding the babies.

Eaton picked up two of the youngest babies and sat on the rocking chair to feed them. Suddenly, the main door of the family wing burst open, and Fallon, Tim’s sixth husband, walked in with some papers in hand. Fallon could be described as a bear due to his burly build and hairy torso. He was thick all over, making him look huggable, but his anxious manners didn’t match with his huggable appearance. He was full of kids—two in each pec, six in his belly, and one in his left ball. His right ball had grown to match his pregnant one, but the sensation was very different, which had always caught Ashton’s attention.

Fallon waddled hypnotically, only wearing sweatpants just like Eaton, but they looked very different on Fallon’s fat thighs and ass. While Eaton was muscular, Fallon’s body was soft, but both loved the same thing about their family: spending time with the kids. While Eaton looked after the babies and toddlers, Fallon loved interacting with the older kids, often teaching them the basics of finances, which was his specialty.

Fallon waved his hand at Ashton and Eaton, briefly smiling at them as he talked to some older kids. Ashton marveled at the bear’s body and couldn’t help but notice that, even though Fallon was evidently anxious most of the time, he loved being pregnant and having kids. Fallon had a great relationship with all the kids in the house, which made Ashton think about getting Fallon even more pregnant, similar to what he told Eaton a few minutes ago.

Ashton sat on a nearby couch, rubbing his belly and enjoying the happiness of the kids surrounding them, while he observed Fallon interacting with the older children. Having Eaton and Fallon before him made Ashton think about the actual extent of becoming a broodfather; it wasn’t only about having all those men available for a fuck or having them serve him. He thought about his interactions with the other men in the house and realized he was only lustful about them initially, but came to understand that there was something else, something important.

Eaton continued breastfeeding the babies as Fallon allowed some teens to rub his belly. Something changed in Ashton’s mind as he watched the scene. He thought about fucking both men, but a deeper desire rose inside him—a desire to get them heavily knocked up with his many babies—even bigger and fuller than they were with Tim’s kids. It wasn’t only about lust anymore, but a desire to create a massive brood with all those men in the house.

Ashton thought about what Tim had been teaching him over the last five months, and he understood that even though he didn’t agree with some of his ways when it came to sex with his husbands, having many kids was a very important part of the role of a broodfather, and that required a lot of sex. Surrounded by kids and watching the two big men handle those kids, Ashton finally embraced his fate: He wanted to be the broodfather of the largest brood that had ever existed.

While Ashton observed, Fallon walked out of the family living room. Fallon went to a room between the two wings, which served as an office for Fallon’s financial responsibilities. Ashton slowly rose from his seat and smiled at Eaton, who only winked at him. Ashton rubbed his belly and waddled out of the family wing, following Fallon to his office. Ashton took his robe off since he wasn’t around the kids anymore, showcasing his strained and stained jockstrap that could barely handle his hard-on.

“Knock, knock,” Ashton said as he walked into Fallon’s office, finding him sitting behind a desk. “Good morning, big man.”

“Hello, come in,” Fallon said, briefly looking up at Ashton but going back to read the document he had in hand. “You seem to be more comfortable without the robe... I prefer it this way,” Fallon added, smiling at Ashton.

Ashton grinned as he approached, rubbing his belly and making his bulge bounce from one side to the other on purpose. Even though Fallon tried to focus on the charts he was reading, he couldn’t avoid looking up at Ashton, who rested his big bulge on the edge of the desk. Fallon blinked repeatedly, marveling at Ashton’s bulge and gasping as he saw the dick throbbing in the jockstrap’s pouch. 

“How are you?” Ashton asked, mischievously grinning because he knew Fallon couldn’t concentrate anymore.

“I-I’m great. I’m reviewing some payments we’ve made in the last few weeks. You know I like keeping this under control,” Fallon said, but he couldn’t concentrate on the sheets with Ashton’s imposing presence there.

“I know, and you do an amazing job,” Ashton said as he walked around the desk to get right beside Fallon. “I think you deserve a reward for your good job with the house’s finances,” Ashton added, moving some documents aside and sitting on the edge of the desk.

“Oh, thanks. I’m glad you think I do a good job, but you know I need to...” Fallon started talking, trying to focus on the sheets again but unable to break his gaze from Ashton’s muscular body.

“Hey, easy up. Relax. You deserve time to relax,” Ashton said, leaning forward to caress Fallon’s pecs. He knew the big bear would be different than the other men in the house because he was constantly anxious, but as Ashton continued caressing his pecs, Fallon couldn’t help but gasp in surprise and delight. “See, you really need to take a break.” Ashton pulled Fallon closer and kissed his lips very passionately.

Fallon was surprised by Ashton’s sudden kiss, but he couldn’t fight it because it felt too good. As they started making out, Ashton pulled Fallon’s hand to his bulge, making the bear feel the big, throbbing dick. Even though Ashton guided Fallon’s hand, Fallon couldn’t resist the urge to stroke Ashton’s dick.

Ashton smiled and reached below to take his dick out of the pouch for Fallon to have full access to it. The foot-long fuck tool shined brightly under the light, making the big head look deliciously inviting. Fallon broke the kiss and looked down at Ashton’s hard dick. Fallon was so entranced already that he couldn’t think of anything but Ashton’s dick. He didn’t need orders; he didn’t need Ashton to say anything; Fallon knew what he had to do.

Fallon leaned forward to fit the big head of Ashton’s dick into his mouth, making the big guy moan in pleasure. Fallon was an expert at giving head, so less than a minute later, Ashton was panting heavily as his dick leaked precum like an open faucet. Even though they had been together a few times before, Ashton was surprised by Fallon’s skilled mouth.

“You’re full of surprises and...” Ashton started saying as he pulled Fallon from his dick to kiss his lips again. “I want to fill you up with kids; I want to hear you begging to carry so many of my babies,” Ashton added as he kissed Fallon’s lips some more before moving away from him and from the desk, leaving Fallon panting and longing for more.

“Whatever you want to do! Please, fill me up,” Fallon said, sounding desperate and willing to carry Ashton’s dick. “I want to give you a large brood.” Fallon panted as Ashton waddled toward the door.

“We can have lots of fun, but not yet. Finish your work, and I’ll be waiting for you,” Ashton commanded as he left the room, leaving Fallon unable to think of anything else but Ashton’s body.

As Ashton walked down the hall and into the father’s wing, he found a naked Dalton waiting for him with his huge dick still fully hard. “I’m ready, big daddy. I waited for you,” Dalton said, sounding desperate.

“And I’m ready,” Ashton responded, firmly gripping Dalton’s hard dick to pull him to the living room. “Are you ready? I know we’ve done this before, but this time, I have a bigger goal.”

“What is it, big daddy?” Dalton said as he leaned forward against the couch to present his ass to horny Ashton.

Ashton leaned against Dalton’s back to whisper in his ear. “I’m gonna knock you up. I’ll pump you full with my kids. You’re going to carry my brood.” Ashton whispered as he rubbed his dick against Dalton’s hole, who responded with a moan of agreement, ready to be filled with Ashton’s seed.

...

[whatsaninterestingplacethisis]

Too Good

Imagine

Mat Barzal x Latina!Reader

Synop: y/n finds herself in a slum and pushes her boyfriend away because of said slum.

cw: angst + fluff, depression, insecurities, comparisons, overthinking, cussing, mat picks up reader bridal style

+

It hit you like a wave of doubt on any other day. You were on your lunch break, grabbing a cup of coffee and you noticed these group of girls who looked like models. They were outstandingly beautiful. Their hair and makeup, even the way they stood, everything about them looked perfect.

When you got home and looked at yourself in the mirror, you noticed your hair was messy and your makeup worn out. You couldn’t help to think back to those girls and compare what you saw in the mirror.

You quickly fixed your hair and took off your makeup and started to feel and look better but the shocking image in your mind still ate at you. You tried as hard as you could to not compare yourself to others because it was pointless but for some reason today it totally slipped by you.

You spent the rest of your afternoon on the couch rotting as you watched your favorite show. Your phone started ringing and Mat was calling

“Hey beautiful”

You tried not to laugh at the irony

“Hi”

“What are you doing tonight?”

“Nothing just watching my show.”

“Ok so you don’t mind me coming over with pizza from our favorite place?”

“Of course I don’t.” You rolled your eyes at his obvious offer.

“Great, I’ll be there in 5!” You knew Mat lived farther than 5 minutes away and the pizza place would take longer

“You’re already on your way with the pizza aren’t you?”

“I didn’t think my girlfriend would pass up on this amazing offer so I planned ahead.”

“I guess you’re right, drive safe!”

“Will do”

+

You left your front door unlocked for Mat to come in with ease as you got plates ready for the meal.

“Honey I’m home!” Mat yelled obnoxiously

He found you by the living room and before he could set the pizza box down he cups your face and gives you a smooch before hugging you.

“I’ve missed you so much.” He said into your neck

“We saw each other two days ago.” You muffled into his shoulder

He pulls away and sets the box down, “I know but I need to see you every so often to function properly.” He said very dramatically as he placed slices on both plates.

“Uh huh, I’m sure that’s true.”

“Oh it’s very true.” He hands you your plate and both of you walk to the couch to find your seats

“Should we watch a show or movie?” He asked

“Movie.”

+

At the near end of the uninteresting movie, Mat and you and cuddled on the couch barely falling asleep before he speaks up,

“I have a surprise for you”

“What’s the surprise?” You ask as he holds you from behind

“It’s not really a surprise but what do you think of moving in with me?” He says so calmly with a smile on his face that you couldn’t see

You felt your heart stop for a quick second and your whole body freeze. You shift in your lying position before sitting up, out of his grasp,

“You want me to move in?”

He had a nervous smile on his face now, “ I mean yeah. I’m always at yours or you’re always at mine so why not?”

You kept silent and observed his face fall from a bright smile to a regretful one.

“You don’t have to say yes now. It takes time to move.” Mat tried to soften the surprise but he was starting to rethink of asking you at all.

“I’m sorry if asking you is too soon and if you’re not ready.” Mat said after you still kept silent

“No no, I want to live with you matty it’s just you caught me by surprise.” You tried to reason but it didn’t sound too convincing

“Are you sure? I could understand if you want to say no, for whatever reason. I just think it would be nice to wake up next to you every morning.” He cradled your face with his hand

“I want to. Trust me. Just give me some time.” Truth is you really did want to share a home with Matty but your conscience couldn’t understand why he would.

+ +

The next few days you found yourself deeper in this pit, from what you called it. A slump. Since Mat offered you moving in, it had left you conflicted.

You knew he loved you and cared for you but some sick part of you didn’t want to believe it. He called and texted when he could but when he wanted to meet up you made an excuse not to. You felt stuck in between believing Mat and believing what your mind was telling you.

As much as you tried to push away those thoughts, they still haunted you in your sleep. You dreamt that Matt was leaving you for someone else and woke up crying that morning.

Of course it didn’t take long for Mat to notice your absence. So he called the morning of that nightmare.

“Hey babe, I’m free after practice today. I want to see you. I haven’t seen you in almost a week.”

As much as you missed his presence, you felt awkward being physically with him.

“Sorry Mat, I’ve been just so busy with work lately. I’m going to have a long day today too.” You weren’t a very good liar and Mat could tell something was off.

“Baby why are you lying?” He asked without any malice but just pure concern.

Your heart stopped again and you could feel a lump in your throat starting to form.

“I’m not.” You choked out

“Is it because I asked you to move in? It’s really fine if you don’t want to, I’m not going to force you to move in with me. I don’t mind driving over to your place.”

You tried stopping your tears from falling and let out a trembly breath over the phone, unfortunately Matt heard it

“Baby you’re scaring me, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing, it’s just- I need some time to think- time alone.” Your voice clearly wavered

“How long do you need?” His voice sounded flat this time

“I don’t know Mat. Just give me a few days. I’ll call or text when I’m ready.” You were face palming yourself in your empty apartment

“Okay, I love you.” Mat’s face on the other side of the phone call was confused and hurt. Although both of you knew he would respect your wishes,

“I love you too Mat.” You ended the call quickly and found yourself with no plan on how to better yourself.

++

Two days had passed and still no plan. If anything you tried your best on was to avoid people, especially Mat. You tried to get a home cook meal in after work even if it was just a quesadilla.

Then loud knocks were heard from your door.

“Y/n, I know you said to wait but we need to talk.” It was Mat yelling across your door and you felt your stomach drop.

You walked to your front door and peeked at Mat through the peep hole. Truth be told he didn’t look good either.

“Fuck” you whispered to yourself as you froze to open to the door.

“Please open the door” Mat yelled again for you to hear.

You reluctantly opened the door to let him in. You could only look at him in the eyes for a second before walking away.

“Can we talk?” He closed the door and slowly followed you into your living room

“Sure” you had no idea what to say. Every possible negative thought was running through your head.

“First, I’m sorry that I came here even though you wanted me to wait. I was worried about you and us to be honest. Second, why are you distancing yourself?” His voice had gotten closer to you but you still weren’t looking at him.

“It’s not about moving in.” You tried you best getting a sentence or even a word out before crying.

“Then what’s the problem?” You felt his hand touch your arm but you pulled away.

You really couldn’t help but chuckle in exhaustion. You knew if you told Mat all your insecurities and how they form the chances of him leaving were high.

“I’m not alright, clearly.” You started to tear up, “Um I don’t know how to say this, but sometimes I think very bad about myself and I start to believe it. And when I do, I start to distance myself from the people I love because if they knew how I saw myself they would think the same.” You started to sob through your confession, still avoiding his eyes in case you were right.

He tried to touch you again and you couldn’t help but to find comfort in his embrace.

“When do you feel this way?” He whispered into your hair

“Sometimes it comes at random. These past days it’s because I was comparing myself to these girls. It’s ridiculous honestly.” You tried to pull away, starting to become embarrassed in your vulnerability.

“It’s not ridiculous. I mean this whole situation isn’t ridiculous.” He sighed and you started to think he didn’t know what to say, you wouldn’t have known either.

“Besides you not wanting to tell me all of this because you thought I would see you that way, which I would never.” He spoke slowly, “I wished you knew you could trust me with anything.”

“I do trust you, it’s just I don’t trust myself to let you see the whole real me.” You leaned your head on his chest in embarrassment.

“I think I’m seeing all of it now and I still love you if that’s what your worried about.” He lifted your head up so you could look at him.

“Why?”

“Because when I first met you I knew you were the one, as cheesy as it sounds.” You saw him smile in the first time in a while, “I knew you were the girl I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, through the good and bad.”

“You’re too good, Mathew Barzal.” You started to tear up again but from happiness.

“You might have to remind me every once in awhile though.” You gave him a sad smile

“I don’t think I’ll mind.” He caressed your face and leaned in for one of many shared kisses.

+++

2 months later

“I think that was the last box- Matthew put me down!” Matt caught you by surprise by carrying you bridal style into your shared apartment.

“Give me a sec, I’m trying to be romantic here.” He kicked the door open with his foot and stepped into the living room you have seen plenty of times.

“We’re not married silly.”

“Not yet anyway, but very soon.” He still had his ways to make you flustered.

“I believe a proposal comes first then marriage.” He had set you down both standing now.

He started to get on one knee but you knew better, “oh please, get up” both of you laughed as he stood up to meet you eye level,

“You know I would never propose to you like that, you deserve something more romantic.” He pulled you in by the waist

“You’re right. Propose to me in a private but romantic area, not a public proposal.” You whispered up to him

“Anything you want, I’ll give.” He whispered back.

[keepsmagnetoaway]

X-Men: Magneto Testament 5 (March 2009)

Greg Pak/Carmine Di Giandomenico

The last issue. I honestly don't even know if I recommend this series or not. It's outstandingly good, incredibly accurate and faithful, but it's also a horrible experience, by design.

In this issue, the Sinti/Roma part of the camp is liquidated, though Magda survives: she does this not through Magneto's actions or through some story contrivance but through an extremely specific, true incident of a train being sent to Buchenwald and then back for complicated reasons. The details aren't worth going into here but the point is that once again Greg Pak has rooted this story very deeply in historical fact, and made young Magneto into a powerless bystander, disarming him and us.

There is, then, a sudden and desperate escape at the end, and Max and Magda get away, to live and to fight.

But this, again, is nothing but the pure historical fact. There was a Sonderkommando uprising in the camp, and the comic gives us the details. It is true - we think - that a handful of inmates really did escape this way, though many more died.

And so...yeah. The end.

This really is a comic unlike anything I've read before. I mean, I've read Maus, obviously, and you should too, and this isn't in Maus' league, but to do this in the context of an X-Men comic is stunning. This issue has an epilogue that tells the entirely true story of an artist who was an inmate in Auschwitz, Dina Babbitt, a story I won't go in to here but which is deeply important, and its inclusion here along with a reading list - an actual reading list! - is a further hallmark of how seriously this project was taken.

There is a lot else that could be said about this comic and how it fits into other comics, but it honestly feels absurd to look at this and go "hmmmm, how does Magneto's work in an Auschwitz crematorium inform his decision to work with the Blob?", because that's a question of a totally different moral and narrative universe. In that sense this arguably fails, strictly speaking, as an X-Men comic, but I'm deeply glad to have read it. Then again, I'm also pretty glad to be getting away from it and back to the stupid stuff next.