#in like... at least a decade and maybe more like 15 years

[catwif3]

"o woe is me, my writing is so clunky and probably ooc, this isn't working at all!"

*comes back a couple days later*

"wtf this is literally fine."

[fatehbaz]

Good question:

In the United States, many jails and prisons can and will charge you money for every single night that you spend imprisoned, for the entire duration of your incarceration, as if you were being billed for staying at a hotel. Even if you are incarcerated for years. Adding up to tens of thousands of dollars. What happens when you’re released?

In response to this:

---

So.

You’re getting charged, like, ten dollars every time you even submit a request form to possibly be seen by a doctor or dentist.

You’re getting charged maybe five dollars for ten minutes on the phone.

Any time a friend or family tries to send you like five dollars so that you can buy some toothpaste or lotion, or maybe a snack from the commissary since you’re diabetic and the “meals” have left you malnourished, maybe half of that money gets taken as a “service fee” by the corporate contractor that the prison uses to manage your pre-paid debit card. So you’re already losing money every day just by being there.

What happens if you can’t pay?

In some places, after serving just a couple of years for drugs charges, almost 20 years after being released, the state can still hunt you down for over $80,000 that you “owe” as if it were a per-night room-and-board accommodations charge, like this recent highly-publicized case in Connecticut:

Excerpt:

Two decades after her release from prison, [TB] feels she is still being punished. When her mother died two years ago, the state of Connecticut put a lien on the Stamford home she and her siblings inherited. It said she owed $83,762 to cover the cost of her 2 1/2 year imprisonment for drug crimes. [...] “I’m about to be homeless,” said [TB], 58, who in March [2022] became the lead plaintiff in a lawsuit challenging the state law that charges prisoners $249 a day for the cost of their incarceration. [...] All but two states have so-called “pay-to-stay” laws that make prisoners pay for their time behind bars [...]. Critics say it’s an unfair second penalty that hinders rehabilitation by putting former inmates in debt for life. Efforts have been underway in some places to scale back or eliminate such policies. Two states — Illinois and New Hampshire — have repealed their laws since 2019. [...] Pay-to-stay laws were put into place in many areas during the tough-on-crime era of the 1980s and ’90s, said Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology at University of Southern California who is leading a study of the practice. [...] Connecticut used to collect prison debt by attaching an automatic lien to every inmate, claiming half of any financial windfall they might receive for up to 20 years after they are released from prison [...].

Text by: Pat Eaton-Robb. “At $249 per day, prison stays leave ex-inmates deep in debt.” AP News / The Associated Press. 27 August 2022.

---

---

Look at this:

To help her son, Cindy started depositing between $50 to $100 a week into Matthew’s account, money he could use to buy food from the prison commissary, such as packaged ramen noodles, cookies, or peanut butter and jelly to make sandwiches. Cindy said sending that money wasn’t necessarily an expense she could afford. “No one can,” she said. So far in the past month, she estimates she sent Matthew close to $300. But in reality, he only received half of that amount. The balance goes straight to the prison to pay off the $1,000 in “rent” that the prison charged Matthew for his prior incarceration. [...] A PA Post examination of six county budgets (Crawford, Dauphin, Lebanon, Lehigh, Venango and Indiana) showed that those counties’ prisons have collected more than $15 million from inmates — almost half is for daily room and board fees that are meant to cover at least a portion of the costs with housing and food. Prisoners who don’t work are still expected to pay. If they don’t, their bills are sent to collections agencies, which can report the debts to credit bureaus. [...] Between 2014 and 2017, the Indiana County Prison — which has an average inmate population of 87 people — collected nearly $3 million from its prisoners. In the past five years, Lebanon’s jail collected just over $2 million in housing and processing fees.

Text by: Joseph Darius Jaafari. “Paying rent to your jailers: Inmates are billed millions of dollars for their stays in Pa. prisons.” WHYY (PBS). 10 December 2019. Originally published at PA Post.

---

Pay-to-stay, the practice of charging people to pay for their own jail or prison confinement, is being enforced unfairly by using criminal, civil and administrative law, according to a new Rutgers University-New Brunswick led study. The study [...] finds that charging pay-to-stay fees is triggered by criminal justice contact but possible due to the co-opting of civil and administrative institutions, like social service agencies and state treasuries that oversee benefits, which are outside the realm of criminal justice. “A person can be charged $20 to $80 a day for their incarceration,” said author Brittany Friedman, an assistant professor of sociology and a faculty affiliate of Rutgers' criminal justice program. “That per diem rate can lead to hundreds of thousands of dollars in fees when a person gets out of prison. To recoup fees, states use civil means such as lawsuits and wage garnishment against currently and formerly incarcerated people, and regularly use administrative means such as seizing employment pensions, tax refunds and public benefits to satisfy the debt.” [...] Civil penalties are enacted on family members if the defendant cannot pay and in states such as Florida, Nevada and Idaho can occur even after the original defendant is deceased. [...]

Text by: Megan Schumann. “States Unfairly Burdening Incarcerated People With “Pay-to-Stay” Fees.” Rutgers press release. 20 November 2020.

---

So, to pay for your own imprisonment, states can:

-- hunt you down for decades (track you down 20 years later, charge you tens of thousands of dollars, and take your house away)

-- put a lien on your vehicle, house

-- garnish your paycheck/wages

-- seize your tax refund

-- send collections agencies after you

-- take your public assistance benefits

-- sue you in civil court

-- take money from your family even after you’re dead

[tarysande]

There are a couple more Garrus-Vakarian-related hills I'm willing to die on.

Maybe this particular bit of fanon has faded over the years, but there used to be a lot of insistence that Garrus is young and somehow inexperienced when he meets Shepard. Canon doesn't really support this. Turians start their mandatory service at 15. Garrus has at least a decade of experience. Even if he's 2-4 of years younger than Shepard (according to Patrick Weekes), he's got at least as much field experience as she does by dint of the difference in turian and human "enlistment" ages.

Garrus is really damn good at his job at C-Sec. You don't give the Case of Investigating the Rogue Spectre to a greenhorn. You give it to your best, most tenacious agent. Pallin may not always approve of Garrus's actions, but that doesn't actually stop him from putting Garrus on the tough case. Also, we don't know much about how C-Sec works but we do know a bit about how the turian hierarchy works, and we know C-Sec was essentially a turian initiative. That means it's a meritocracy where failure reflects on the superior, not the one who failed. So, in roughly a decade (Shepard's 29 in ME1; I always think of Garrus as about 27), Garrus has not only done shipboard military service, but he's also risen to be one of C-Sec's top investigators; Pallin wouldn't risk having Garrus's "failure" reflect poorly on HIM otherwise. I'd say that actually makes Garrus as remarkable in civilian law enforcement terms as Shepard is considered to be within the ranks of the Alliance military.

Of course Garrus was scouted by the Spectre program. And honestly, if his dad hadn't stepped in, I think Garrus would have become a Spectre, no problem. Especially for a turian, he's cut from precisely the cloth the Spectres would be looking for: extremely skilled, extremely capable, and--most importantly--he's a turian not just able but willing to work outside the chains of command that turians are taught from birth to revere and be loyal to above all else. This is the reason Pallin is leery about Spectres: he's a good turian. Good turians follow straight lines; they don't carve out their own paths.

Garrus's dad's not dumb, and he's not cruel, and he, too, rose to the top of the C-Sec hierarchy. He took one look at his kid, I think, and said, "I love my child, but I'd say it's a 50-50 chance he ends up a shooting-first-asking-questions-later Spectre like Saren Arterius, and I don't want to see that happen." Yeah, he uses his parental influence to try and jam square-peg-Garrus into round-hole-C-Sec and Garrus resents him for it, but there's no way he did it just to stop his son from getting his way or because he doesn't like Spectres. I expect Vakarian Sr. had to clean up more post-Spectre-interference messes than we can possibly imagine. But we also know he and Alec Ryder were pals later.

So the importance of what Garrus learns from a Paragon Spectre Shepard is this: You can't just do what you want and claim the ends always justify the means. That's what Saren does. Over and over again. Garrus's code and his idealism and his sense of justice and his ability to work alone should make him a great Spectre, actually, but he needs Paragon Spectre Shepard's actions to show him the lesson he tells her he's learned during ME1: "If the people I'm sworn to protect can't trust me... well, then I don't deserve to be the one protecting them." (And the seed of Archangel was planted.) I think for the first time he realizes that even though he believes his sense of justice to be correct, it doesn't matter for shit if he can't show others why that's so. And that's where the trust comes in. (Also, ow, the extra level of importance this gives their exchange where she tells him she trusts him and he tells her she's about the only friend he has left is... a lot. Cool, cool. I'm totally fine. Nothing to see here.)

When Shepard asks him what happened on Omega, he replies, "My feelings got in the way of my better judgement." Something tells me that this never happens to "good" turians, which just makes the line so much more devastating. And although the lesson some might take away from this is "feelings bad; no feelings ever," the "grey" that Garrus has to learn to deal with is precisely the grey of recognizing feelings, validating them even, but not acting on them until they've been examined. (Which is why my Shepard stands between him and Sidonis; she doesn't give a shit about Sidonis. But Garrus has refused to process his own feelings of failure and self-loathing, so they have to take the therapy session to the Citadel and deal with it there.)

Ahh yes. The mountain range of character analysis.

[reasonsforhope]

"For the first time in decades, public health data shows a sudden and hopeful drop in drug overdose deaths across the U.S.

"This is exciting," said Dr. Nora Volkow, head of the National Institute On Drug Abuse [NIDA], the federal laboratory charged with studying addiction. "This looks real. This looks very, very real."

National surveys compiled by the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention already show an unprecedented decline in drug deaths of roughly 10.6 percent. That's a huge reversal from recent years when fatal overdoses regularly increased by double-digit percentages.

Some researchers believe the data will show an even larger decline in drug deaths when federal surveys are updated to reflect improvements being seen at the state level, especially in the eastern U.S.

"In the states that have the most rapid data collection systems, we’re seeing declines of twenty percent, thirty percent," said Dr. Nabarun Dasgupta, an expert on street drugs at the University of North Carolina.

According to Dasgupta's analysis, which has sparked discussion among addiction and drug policy experts, the drop in state-level mortality numbers corresponds with similar steep declines in emergency room visits linked to overdoses.

Dasgupta was one of the first researchers to detect the trend. He believes the national decline in street drug deaths is now at least 15 percent and could mean as many as 20,000 fewer fatalities per year.

"Today, I have so much hope"

After years of wrenching drug deaths that seemed all but unstoppable, some researchers, front-line addiction workers, members of law enforcement, and people using street drugs voiced caution about the apparent trend.

Roughly 100,000 deaths are still occurring per year. Street drug cocktails including fentanyl, methamphetamines, xylazine and other synthetic chemicals are more poisonous than ever.

"I think we have to be careful when we get optimistic and see a slight drop in overdose deaths," said Dan Salter, who heads a federal drug interdiction program in the Atlanta-Carolinas region. "The last thing we want to do is spike the ball."

But most public health experts and some people living with addiction told NPR they believe catastrophic increases in drug deaths, which began in 2019, have ended, at least for now. Many said a widespread, meaningful shift appears underway.

"Some of us have learned to deal with the overdoses a lot better," said Kevin Donaldson, who uses fentanyl and xylazine on the street in Burlington, Vermont.

According to Donaldson, many people using fentanyl now carry naloxone, a medication that reverses most opioid overdoses. He said his friends also use street drugs with others nearby, ready to offer aid and support when overdoses occur.

He believes these changes - a response to the increasingly toxic street drug supply - mean more people like himself are surviving.

"For a while we were hearing about [drug deaths] every other day. When was the last one we heard about? Maybe two weeks ago? That's pretty few and far between," he said.

His experience is reflected in data from the Vermont Department of Health, which shows a 22 percent decline in drug deaths in 2024.

"The trends are definitely positive," said Dr. Keith Humphreys, a nationally respected drug policy researcher at Stanford University. "This is going to be the best year we've had since all of this started."

"A year ago when overdose deaths continued to rise, I was really struggling with hope," said Brad Finegood, who directs the overdose crisis response in Seattle.

Deaths in King County, Washington, linked to all drugs have dropped by 15 percent in the first half of 2024. Fatal overdoses caused by street fentanyl have dropped by 20 percent.

"Today, I have so much hope," Finegood said.

-via NPR, September 18, 2024. Article continues below with an exploration of the whys (mostly unknown) and some absolutely fucking incredible statistics.

Why the sudden and hopeful shift? Most experts say it's a mystery

While many people offered theories about why the drop in deaths is happening at unprecedented speed, most experts agreed that the data doesn't yet provide clear answers.

Some pointed to rapid improvements in the availability and affordability of medical treatments for fentanyl addiction. "Expansion of naloxone and medications for opioid use disorder — these strategies worked," said Dr. Volkow at NIDA.

"We've almost tripled the amount of naloxone out in the community," said Finegood. He noted that one survey in the Seattle area found 85 percent of high-risk drug users now carry the overdose-reversal medication.

Dr. Rahul Gupta, the White House drug czar, said the drop in drug deaths shows a path forward.

"This is the largest decrease on record and the fifth consecutive month of recorded decreases," he said.

Gupta called for more funding for addiction treatment and healthcare services, especially in Black and Native American communities where overdose deaths remain catastrophically high.

"There is no way we're going to beat this epidemic by not focusing on communities that are often marginalized, underserved and communities of color," Gupta said.

"Overdose deaths in Ohio are down 31 percent"

Indeed, in many states in the eastern and central U.S. where improvements are largest, the sudden drop in drug deaths stunned some observers who lived through the darkest days of the fentanyl overdose crisis.

"This year overdose deaths [in Ohio] are down 31 percent," said Dennis Couchon, a harm reduction activist. "The deaths were just plummeting. The data has never moved like this."

"While the mortality data for 2024 is incomplete and subject to change, Ohio is now in the ninth consecutive month of a historic and unexpected drop in overdose deaths," said the organization Harm Reduction Ohio in a statement.

Missouri is seeing a similar trend that appears to be accelerating. After dropping by 10 percent last year, preliminary data shows drug deaths in the state have now fallen roughly 34 percent in the second quarter of 2024.

"It absolutely seems things are going in the right direction, and it's something we should feel pleased about," said Dr. Rachel Winograd, director of addiction science at the University of Missouri St. Louis, who also noted that drug deaths remain too high.

"It feels wonderful and great," said Dr. Mark Levine, head of the Vermont Health Department. "We need encouraging data like this and it will help sustain all of us who are actively involved in trying to have an impact here."

Levine, too, said there's still "plenty of work left to do."" ...

Dasgupta, the researcher at the University of North Carolina, agreed more needs to be done to help people in addiction recover when they're ready.

But he said keeping more people alive is a crucial first step that seemed impossible only a year ago.

"A fifteen or twenty percent [drop in deaths] is a really big number, an enormous impact," he said, calling for more research to determine how to keep the trend going.

"If interventions are what's driving this decline, then let's double down on those interventions."

-article via NPR, September 18, 2024

[anundyingfidelity]

FOR ALL TIME, ALWAYS – Loki x female reader

Summary: Loki escapes the TVA for a moment. Desperate and brokenhearted, he looks for you, his wife, in the Sacred Timeline. Even if you saw him die ten years ago.

Word count: 3.9k.

Warnings: LOTS of angst, some fluff, spoilers of Loki series in general. Language. Maybe I'm not getting how the branches work oops. This is right after the end of 2x02 and before 2x03. My English is also a warning, just in case.

Notes: while looking on the tags I checked a post of someone asking for a TVA Loki fic where he finds the reader but her Loki died in IW (not canon in my head btw). So I wrote it because is such a great idea, but I can't find the original post... ;-; anyway hope you like this!

☕ if you like my writing, support me with a ko-fi !

GEN MASTERLIST!

It's harder to stay...

Wasn't this situation hard enough? Sylvie was right. She had a point. But Loki wanted to do the right thing. Maybe he would find a chance... Again, right? Probably he would make the proper decisions this time.

The TVA was already fucked up, and with it, the thousands of timelines and lives in danger within them. Sometimes, it looked like it didn't matter. In the end, they were trying to fix something that was already broken.

Loki let out a deep breath he didn't realise was holding and walked to talk directly to his partner, Mobius.

"I need a favor," Loki mumbled, so the grey-haired man would be the only person to hear his voice.

Mobius met his eyes. He knew that gaze, it meant he was up to something. "What kind of favor?"

The god motioned Mobius to step away from the newly acknowledged variants and far away from what B-15 was witnessing. The branches were pruned from the whole existence; thousands and millions of lifes lost to the void in just the blink of an eye. Loki knew he had to do something before it got worst. Something for himself.

"I need to go the Sacred Timeline," Loki announced.

"Are you nuts?" Mobius scolded, in the same low voice tone Loki had used.

"Is just- listen, it's something I have to do. I really need to go back there. Need to see someone, make sure everything is okay," Loki insisted.

During all the times Loki showed he was desperate, Mobius was sure this was the peak of all of them. He wasn't explaning more than necessary, he looked serious, and his voice was crisp. Loki knew what he wanted at that moment. Mobius sighed, his hands finding the pockets of his pants, unsure of Loki's request.

"So it's personal..."

"A little, yeah," Loki nodded.

"Promise it'll be quick," Mobius said, taking off the TemPad from his pocket and his hand stopped in the air before the object could lay in the god's grip. "Don't make me regret this."

"I won't."

2029, Sacred Timeline

When Loki arrived to his destination, the nerves got the best from him. New York looked no different from the last time he was there. Shifting his usual clothes he wore at the TVA, he chose a plain suit to go undercover, or at least decided he would try to, considering he was a criminal once in Midgard.

But as he walked through the halls of the familiar building he met decades ago, he didn't really care. He longed for something else. Better say, someone. And it was you.

You, who met him in the past right after Thor's banishment, and even helped him to find the Teseract, only to give up to SHIELD and those idiots that people called 'The Avengers'. Of course his heart hurted for a long time, but Loki tried to deny the feelings blooming inside and instead, he just decided to walk away from you, even if that meant hurting you. It was the best.

At least that was what he believed until he checked further his file; the file that Mobius had prepared for him. His life. Even after what he did to your people and planet, you still held no grudges. And Thor was good enough to seek for yours and the sorcerer's, Stephen Strange, help once Hela appeared in their lives.

Loki would never forget the loving look in your beautiful eyes when you saw him again, after years of parting ways. He really paid attention to you while watching his file, and he found there was only love, protection, and care in you. All for him. Someone who didn't deserve it, he thought.

He felt grateful at least he had the pleasure to enjoy happiness for a moment. Even if that meant Asgard was destroyed. Loki already lost his mother, his father, and he almost lost his brother. He couldn't stand losing you either. The simple idea of living without you - even if he didn't know you further than your Loki did - was unbearable pain.

So while in the ship on the way to Midgard with the asgardians and survivors of the Ragnarok, you held a cozy, small wedding when he asked you to marry him. This was one of the parts Loki would replay again and again from his file, with disbelief that he was actually happy and joyful, enjoying a good time with you, his brother, and all the asgardians who survived. Loki felt full of hope after your wedding, thinking fate had better things to come with you as an oficial part of his life.

Unfortunately, it didn't last long, thanks to the Mad Titan. As his steps got near your door, the memory of his brother and your figure mourning on his lifeless body appeared on his mind. It was an image he couldn't erase that easily. Probably, he would never forget that was his original destiny all the way. That was meant to be. And for now, he could not change it.

Loki stopped outside your apartment. He took a deep breath and raised his shaking hand to reach the doorbell. He waited for a moment, not knowing if seconds or minutes went by, it felt eternal. Until the door opened and he saw you.

The bright smile you had on your lips faded away. Your eyes flooded with tears, your forehead was furrowed, and still, Loki thought you were the most beautiful creature in all the Nine Realms.

"Hi..." Loki barely whispered, his eyes were glossy and a single tear also ran down his pale cheek.

You were clearly in shock. You wanted to get closer and finally touch him, to feel him physically. But even if you wanted to move to take his hand to confirm it wasn't a trick of your ruined mind, your body was stiff and your feet were glued to the ground.

"Is this an illusion?" you trembled.

All Loki could do was shaking his head, before muttering. "No..."

"Loki, I saw you die..."

Tears ran down your face, denying to yourself that this was real. That this was really happening to you. And your mind started to wonder all the possible scenarios and reasons on why him, the god of mischief, the only person you loved dearly with all your mind, body and soul, was standing right in front of your door even if he was gone for you... Long gone now. And that couldn't be undone.

"I know you did, my love."

You tried to smile, even a little bit, as he pronounced those words so dearly. Loki came closer to your figure, carefully placing a trembling hand on your cheek, feeling the tears flowing on your skin. You leaned into his touch, with a simpering smile. Such was the effect you had on him, that a silly smile he also had on his lips.

And you realized Loki was so real... His touch, his heat, his smile, his scent, the way he would hold you... Everything about him was exactly as you remembered. You felt his lips brushing softly against yours, gentle and hesitant, and instantly, you melted into a slow kiss, sure knowing that Loki would taste the salt of your tears running down your face. Leaning in closer as the space between would allow you, you savoured each second your breaths allowed, longing to remain right there for eternity. For all time. Always.

"But now I am here... and I can explain," he whispered once you separated your lips from his in the sweetest way.

You let out a soft chuckle. "Mind to enlighten me, oh, god of mischief?"

Finally you guided him inside your apartment. That old apartment Loki saw his other self visiting a couple of times before you were something. It still had your vibe around it and he loved it. He felt like he was at home after a very long time. Once you closed the door, his arms wrapped around your figure, and you let yourself cry, pressing against his chest and with a tight grip of your hands on his coat.

"You don't have any idea of how much I have missed you all these years," you sobbed and his heart shrank on his chest. "I kept wishing every night and every day to be me instead of you."

"My love," he said softly, separating a little and cupping your cheeks with his warm hands. His eyes were red now because of the tears he was holding back again. "Don't say that... It was supposed to happen."

"What?" you mumbled.

Your hands found his wrists and you pulled his palms away from your cheeks. However you kept the contact with him, you just needed to touch him, to feel he was in the flesh. He was alive right now, wasn't he?

"Look, I am not your Loki. I know what you did, what the Avengers did after Thanos-" his voice broke just a bit but he continued. "I know everything. I just couldn't resist knowing there was someone for me, out there in the Nine Realms, capable to love me for who I am," Loki explained as he watched your face. Was it disappointment? Confusion? He didn't know, but he had to tell you the truth.

Your voice came out as a barely audible whisper. "So... you are saying... you're another Loki? Another him?"

He nodded softly. "I am." Loki thought for a moment on how to explain everything, but he just went for what his heart felt it was right. "It's a little complicated. I did something that wasn't supposed to be, and perhaps will sound like I'm insane, but thanks to that I am kind of trapped in time. With an organization that is not what everyone thought it was, hence a multiverse was created. Sponsored by another me, by the way. You are in what is called the Sacred Timeline, where things flow as how they were supposed to since forever. And I just needed to see you after I found out you were the love of my life."

You took a moment to understand everything he said, wishing that his fate would have been different from what originally happened. Loki gave his best, even in the last worst moments, he was changing for good. For you. For Thor... It wasn't fair.

"Your death was supposed to be then?"

"Yes, it was."

"Oh, Loki," you cried. "You know what, I don't care what's happened. I'm just- I feel happy seeing you here... Please tell me everything you've been through. I want to hear your voice again, to know you're with me right now, to feel you near... I'm not crazy, am I?" you chuckled between tears and Loki curved his lips in a smile, wiping your tears from your face with his thumbs.

Loki granted your wish and explained everything, answering every question you had about the lies of the TVA; the files he found out were his whole life; about Sylvie, Mobius and his variants. He spilled all you wanted to hear, asking like a child, until you understood what was happening. You noticed he truly had changed, just like your Loki did when he reunited with Thor before the Ragnarok took over Asgard. It was a bittersweet feeling however, thinking how much they they seemed to each other. They were the same person after all, but this Loki didn't had the chance to continue his path as it was supposed to.

Taking his hand into yours, you leaned towards him and laid down your head on his shoulder while you both sat comfortable in the couch, just enjoying each others company. Your eyes were dry at this point after crying for what it felt were hours, but his voice helped to soothe you enough.

"I'm glad knowing you have someone like Mobius by your side," you said after a quiet moment. "He sounds like a very good friend," you looked at him, waiting for an answer. "Because that's what he is to you, right?"

"He is a great friend, I'm not alone if that is what is troubling you," Loki affirmed.

You let out a sigh. "That is totally a relief to me."

Loki chuckled softly, leaning to leave a kiss on your hair. "Now you've heard everything about me, would I hear something from you?"

"I'm just a mortal, Loki," you smiled. "Doing the normal shit, not the superhero stuff anymore. I am hating my pretty much normal office job every day; I feed the birds when I go outside at the park, also thinking about adopting a cat or a dog... Maybe a dog."

"Or you could do both."

"Yeah, I might. But my place isn't that big for pets. Sometimes I feel like I'm too alone, very much alone... I would love to have a big farm, or a cabin in the mountains with lots of plants, pets and animals to take care of." The idea did sound good for Loki. Hopefuly you could find peace that way. "Do you remember Pepper?" you said, straighting up on the couch to look at him. He nodded. "Well, after Tony died I still visit her and their daughter, Morgan. She is ten years old, could you believe it?" Loki noticed the sorrow and pain you still carried after all those years of losing your friends, your people... "And I've been missing you and mourning you for ten years as well."

"It's not your fault."

"I know, Loki."

"Do whatever is the best for you, my dear... I would have loved to be here with you now, as the Loki from the Sacred Timeline."

You smiled, but it was a sad smile. "Well, either way, you're here now. It's all that matters to me."

Once again, you shared a loving kiss and took his hand to walk to the kitchen, asking him to take a seat in your breakfast bar, glad he decided to search for you in one of your free days. Otherwise, you would have surely missed his visit. But he was looking for you. Probably Loki would have found you anywhere at this point.

You talked some more while you had some tea and ate some cookies that you saved for special days on the shelfs. The afternoon was pleasant, and this was your turn to speak. Loki, coat long gone, was catching up with you and he asked every single thing about your life now. He smiled more than ever, laughed more than you have ever seen, and it was certainly something you could get used to from now on. Knowing you never continued your life with another person made his heart ache though. However, Loki was no one to blame. He would have done the same thing. No other was like you, no one would have replaced you.

"It's my decision," you finally said, reading his face like an open book. "I have loved you, I love you now and I will love you forever."

He took your hand, lacing your fingers with his. "I know..."

"The day we married you gave me a ring. I always have it with me, today I'm not working, but I use this necklace with your ring," you searched for the necklace hiding inside your shirt and taking it off, you showed him the precious jewel hanging on a fine golden chain. The ring he recognized once was from his mother. "I want you to have it."

"No,I can't-"

"But this is what I want. I know I would have to forget, because you will make me forget about this. About you, coming here, risking everything just to see me. So please, take it."

Loki knew you had made a decision, but then if he left, taking your memories away about this day, what was left for you? He had nothing, and it was okay. He would still know he came to the Sacred Timeline; that he kissed you, that you shared a moment together, that you still loved him. But you will have none of that. And you, as human as you were, would die without the memories and without the ring. You would have nothing and he was sure couldn't bear it.

"Perhaps I can have something else to remember you, I want you to keep this ring as a promise," he closed your hand around the necklace. "My promise that I still love you and I will do it. Forever."

And you sighed, taking the necklace back with a smile. Always so stubborn. "Give me a moment."

Loki saw you leave the kitchen for some minutes. While he was alone, he noticed the sunset through the windows, as it was almost ending to welcome the dark sky around the city. He knew he had to go soon. As much as he didn't want to and the simple thought of runing away was starting to hurt him deep inside.

When you arrived, you stood by his seat on the breakfast bar, putting a small photograph, perfect for a passport, on the surface. It was all in black and white, and you looked what you thought it was nice. Loki took it between his hands, lovingly and with a proud smile on his face.

"I used that when I was taking my Master's degree. Looks pretty decent," you joked.

Loki laughed, tears right at the corner of his eyes. "It's more than that. It's perfect."

His smile faded, knowing this meant he had to leave you again. Loki wasn't supposed to have a happy ending, was he? How he wished to stay there by your side.

You kissed his cheek as a sort of goodbye and comfort at the same time, noticing the sudden change on his face and whispered softly. "So you don't search for me on those files."

"Thank you, love."

Loki got on his feet to put his coat on, like some sort of mental preparation before leaving your apartment and the Sacred Timeline. He saved your photograph on his pocket securely along with Mobius' TemPad, pretending to be strong and swallowing all the pain he was feeling right at that moment. You took his hand, lacing your fingers together one last time and walked until you stood there, in the middle of your living room. He looked at you with loving eyes, trying to save your face and your figure before returning to where he was supposed to be now. And it seemed like time had stopped, as everything Loki could see and feel was you and only you.

"I guess is time now," you began, interrupting his mind.

"I guess it is," Loki nodded, expecting an answer from you. Anything. But it never came. You were also trying to save the moment as much as you could.

So he cupped your cheeks, feeling for the last time your warm, soft skin against his palms. He didn't want to talk, because if he would have said something, it meant you were really saying goodbye forever. What Loki didn't know is that you felt the same thing.

Was there something good to say to your lover, whose destiny was just to bring the best from other people with his cruelty and chaos? To the man who had learn to make things better and, in the end, died trying to protect his people and his wife? Was there anything out there that would bring the god of mischief the happiness and love you always knew he deserved? With these branches and multiverse thing, you hoped deep in your heart there was a universe where he found what he longed for so long. This was just one of many of them. Probably he was happy and living in peace in some others.

"I love you, Loki," you mumbled. He caressed your skin with his thumbs and wiped the small tears that were running on your cheeks.

"I love you too."

Loki leaned to kiss you one last time. You welcomed the kiss with shut eyes, savouring his lips and the taste of your tears, mixing now with his own.

The pain started to bloom; every heartbeat felt like a sledgehammer pounding against his chest. He was not ready to let you go, so this was all he could do. The seidr flowed from his fingers, the green lights covering your body with the help of the spell he casted for you was made to protect you from anything that could get out of hand in the Sacred Timeline, particularly from his own hands, the hands of the TVA, or any other danger that could chase you. Because if something would happen to you due to his stubborn decision, Loki knew he wouldn't forgive himself. What he was sure about though, was that he would still look for you until the end of time.

So when the kiss ended, you fell asleep in seconds. He had to take your sleeping figure with his arms to your bedroom, where he carefully laid you down on the bed. Making sure you were comfortable in your sleep, fixing the pillows and the blankets, Loki remained there, just to take in the serenity emanating from you. It was something you had, the ease and calm your aura projected to everyone in the room. This was the last thing Loki wanted to save from you.

He kissed your forehead and dried the tears on your face before standing up. Once you were to wake up in some hours, you would not be able to know everything was real. Loki made sure you thought it was a dream. So that is what you would have in your head. Something you wished for so long that will only be nothing but thoughts, scenes and emotions that felt absolutely true. As real as life could be.

Loki took the TemPad and opened the timedoor to go back to the TVA, where he knew Mobius would be waiting already since he left for hours. Without looking back to your room, he stepped in and forced to compose himself just in case he would bump into someone else. He sighed, observing through the halls of the headquaters as he made his way back to the room that was assigned to him.

At his door, a worried Mobius was already waiting for him, walking in circles.

"God, Loki I thought you were gone for a second," the analyst breathed out. Loki just handed the TemPad and Mobius took it back. He noticed his weary demeanor and teary eyes. "Thank you. Sorry I doubted you for a second."

"It's fine," Loki shrugged it off, looking for something on his pocket. The photograph slipped from his fingers and fell down to the floor. Mobius was quick enough to pick it up for him, but as he gave it back to his owner he observed it thoroughly.

"So this was the personal thing you did," Mobius said, looking the photograph resting on Loki's hand. He remembered that face from his files.

"Yeah... I guess all set now," Loki sighed.

"Good, I hope you're ready for another trip to the Sacred Timeline." Mobius turned to walk away, deciding it was better to give him some time, but he turned back to Loki before doing so. "And if you're feeling like talking about this any day, only between us, just let me know."

And with that, he walked away. Loki smiled, standing alone outside his door.

You were right. Mobius was a good friend.

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Young President!Coriolanus Snow x Call Girl!Reader, Dom!Coriolanus

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is in himself his own warning. Dubcon, Noncon, choking, impact play, kissing, degradation, biting, p in v, breeding kink, creampie, talks of sex work, talks of past sex trafficking, talks of poisoning/murder

You stare out the pitch black tinted window as the driver of your black luxury car drives you to your destination, the Presidential Palace. You've been acting as President Coriolanus Snow's personal high class call girl for years. Well, ever since he became Head Gamemaker and saw you in Pluribus Bell’s illicit, but high end sex club.

Pluribus had acquired you when General Byzantine had put you up on the auction block after using you (and literally torturing you) as his personal fuckdoll. Despite looking like a broken piece of shit, hatred and fire burned in your beautiful eyes. According to Pluribus, it was the look in your eyes that made the old man buy you; put you in charge of the girls in his sex club.

So, basically, Pluribus made you a Madame. Not that you minded. Hell, it meant that you didn't have to fuck nutjob, crazy, overly kinky whackjob Capitol men anymore.

But when Coriolanus Snow came into the club, after being invited by Pluribus after breaking off an engagement (why things didn't work with the Cardew banking heir, Livia, you didn't know; didn't care either) and laid his icy blue eyes on you, well, he just knew that he had to have you.

At first you told Pluribus no when he approached you with Snow's request, but then the platinum blonde pretty boy cornered you with an offer you couldn't refuse. A private penthouse, your own car and driver, a black Amex, and never having to work another day if you agree to be at his beck and call as his personal call girl.

His high class girl, as he called you.

That was 5 years ago.

Yea…

At this rate you'll probably be President Snow's high class girl forever.

Hopefully he finds himself a wife so you can move on with your life. Maybe take all that money you have squirreled away and get a nice beach house somewhere in District 4. The weather's lovely there. Maybe you'll even find somebody to settle down with; even have a kid or two.

It'd be nice to be able to retire from whoring. You've been in the game since your family sold you at age 15 to pay off debts. You've been fucking for a living for a decade now; it's getting old.

But at least the President is the kindest out of all the men you've been with, which is saying something because Coriolanus is as cold as his name, Snow.

You're so far inside of your head that you don't even notice the car stop or your driver, Herbie open the door.

Herbie clears his throat, only.to announce, 'Ma’am, we're here.”, causing your self imposed spell over your mind to break.

“Thank you, Herbie.” You simply told him, stretching your hand out for him to help you out of the car.

“I'll be here waiting for you, Ma’am.” Your driver told you, shutting the door once you were out of the car.

“Thank you. I won't be long.” You politely assured Herbie before walking towards the side entrance of the Presidential Mansion, which was marked with a trellis of vining; blooming roses. The side entrance leads straight to Coriolanus' personal living quarters; of course you had the key for it.

Your black designer stilettos loudly echo against the marble as you walk up the white and gold staircase that separates the president's personal living room, sitting room, kitchen, and dining room from the bed chambers, bathrooms, and his private study. You've only ever been in his bedroom and the sitting room. Both were immaculate, so you assume that the rest of his living quarters in the presidential palace must be extravagant too.

One thing you've noted about President Coriolanus Snow over the last few years of knowing him is that he has high class taste. A posca taste, if you'll call it. The more expensive, the better.

And it's that trait of his that has you baffled about why he's kept you around so long to fulfill his needs. Surely he can find himself some young, beautiful, and naive high class twit from a rich family to groom into his perfect classy woman.

His First Lady.

Surely, he must be getting tired of paying for you- putting you up in a high end penthouse that's about a 5 or so minute drive from his palace. Back before he became president your place was literally the next building over from his. Yea, that's how classy and ritzy of a penthouse you're in.

“I'm in my room, darling.” Coriolanus called out to you as soon as your heels clicked against the marble of his second story floor.

No shit, he's in his room. He's always in his room. He's either sitting on the bed end settee or on his ornate sofa, but either way he's donning his waistcoat and smoking while waiting for you. The epitome of regal master.

“I’ll be right there, Coriolanus.” You called back, speeding up your steps slightly to reach the white and gold scrolled double doors of his chambers.

Opening the door and walking inside, you spot him lounging on his cream sofa. His legs are crossed and he has an arm lazily thrown over the back of the sofa’s ornate mahogany frame. Coriolanus’ platinum hair his in its natural curly state, which is a rarity, but also means that he ruined his slicked back look by running his hands thru his hair all day- something he does when frustrated or nervous. And, like always while awaiting your visit, he's smoking.

“Darling, I told you last time you were here to call me Coryo.” The President told you, reaching his arm out to tip his ashes into the crystal ashtray that's on the mahogany coffee table.

“I'm sorry, Coryo. I forgot.” You lied thru a smile, a smile that was so fake it wasn't even funny.

You didn't forget, you just don't want to call him nicknames. Not when you know that your arrangement has an expiration date; one that'll be coming up soon enough.

Sitting up, he pointed to you with his cigarette and said, “Show me what you wore for me tonight.”

He did this every time you came over for his booty call. It was a ritual you're used to. You'd be shocked if he didn't ask you to model the lingerie for him.

With a sultry smile, you untie and unbutton the long red trenchcoat you're wearing. “It's a new set that I bought the other day.” You inform Coriolanus while opening up the coat and letting it fall off your shoulders; onto the floor.

President Snow's mouth watered as he took in your form dressed up in a lacy black bustier and matching cheeky panties along with those black stilettos with the red bottoms- the ones that he loved seeing you in. He thought that those heels did wonders for your legs, legs that he loved to have wrapped around his body- whether he was fucking you or feasting on your cunt.

Snubbing his cigarette in the crystal ashtray and rising from the sofa, the president smirked, “I do enjoy it when you go lingerie shopping, my darling rose.” Striding over to you, only to circle you like a predator circle's it's prey, the regal platinum blonde looked at you hungrily. As if he's starving and you're a filet mignon.

Coriolanus stopped right in front of you, only to give you a smoldering look while unbuttoning his maroon waistcoat, his long fingers moving lithely. Shrugging off the vest and chucking it towards a nearby sitting chair, he closed the distance between you. His tall form towers over you; you know what he wants from you.

It's what he always wants from you.

You ran your hands over his chest, which was quite toned underneath his crisp white dress shirt, and pressed your lips to his Adam's apple. As you kissed a tantalizing trail down his neck and to the collar of his shirt, leaving blood red lips tip stains in your wake, his large hands snaked around you. His breathing was husky and lustful as you lifted your head up, staring straight into his baby blues, while unbuttoning his shirt. Your red nails a stark contrast to his shirt.

“I have a business trip I need to attend in 12.” Coriolanus said while you pushed his shirt off of him after opening it up. You just nodded, raking your red nails up and down his chest before tweaking his nipples. Just the way that he likes.

You thought that all talks of his meeting was over, so you leaned forward to kiss him, but he stopped you by lifting up one of his hands and grabbing your chin. “The mining bosses are having some issues with their workers meeting production goals; I'm leaving in the morning and you're coming with me.”

Your eyes went wide. You can't go to 12. No, you won't go to 12. You refuse to go back to that shit hole you once called home, where your family- that sold you into a life of sexual slavery to a brothel for money to pay off drinking debts- lives.

“I'm not going to 12, Coriolanus. We'll see each other when you get back.” You firmly told him.

Which wasn't what he wanted to hear. In fact, he wanted you to nod your head; maybe make a remark about needing to pack, and then get to fucking him. You refusing him was never in the cards.

You just dealt him a hand he wasn't expecting. But, President Snow's an excellent poker player; he'll make due with the cards you've just given him.

Coriolanus' large hand slipped from your chin only to grab your throat. His face dipped so close to yours that his hot breath, which smelt like smoke, mints, bourbon, and coffee, fanned over your face. “I'm not asking you, Y/N. I'm telling you that you're coming to District 12 with me.” His thumb pressed into your windpipe, not hard enough to cut off your breathing, but hard enough to make you wheeze and pay attention to him as he spoke in a cold, authoritarian tone. “I fucking own you, so when I tell you to do something you do it. You don't get to say no to me.”

President Snow looked like a crazed, disheveled mess as he chastised you. And you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on. Because it did.

Oh how it did. It might be wrong being turned on by a power hungry zealot who's telling you that you're his property, but the way he looked while doing it. Hot damn, it made your pussy pool; stain your black lacy panties with a wet patch.

Yea…you're pretty fucked up at this point in your life.

The platinum blonde's large hand slid from your hip over your lower belly, only to sneak under the waistband of your panties. He dipped his mouth to your ear, grabbing your pussy in his large calloused hands, while telling you, “I own this pussy, darling, and if I want to fuck it every goddamn day of my business trip then I sure as hell will.” Coriolanus bit your earlobe, hard enough to crack the pearl earring you're wearing.

An earring he bought you in the early days of your arrangement.

He pulled away, only to look at you darkly. Spitting the cracked pearl earring in your face, he pulled his hand out of your underwear. He brought his fingers up to his prominent nose, only to inhale your scent. His eyes fluttered shut and his face contorted into a look of pleasure. He was, for a lack of a better word, getting high off of your musk.

Oh yea, the President sure was something else…but who are you to judge? You're his personal whore, so…

His icy eyes popped open, with a lust filled crazed look, as he sucked his fingers one by one. Savoring the taste of your juices while keeping his tight hold on your neck with his other hand. His tongue swirled around his pinky, the last finger to be licked clean by him. “You taste divine. Too bad you need to be disciplined for your rude behavior and won't be having your cunt eaten by me tonight.”

“Disciplined for my rude behavior? Coryo, the only thing I did was tell you that I'm not going to 12.” You spoke up, standing your ground to your, for a lack of a better word, owner.

Coryo’s fingers pressed hard into your neck, no doubt leaving behind finger shaped bruises that would need covered up by IL MAKIAGE tomorrow. Looks like you'll have to make another trip to Sephora soon if you don't want to have bruises all over your neck shown off to the public. How embarrassing would that be, going to various stores with chokehold bruising all over your neck. You shudder at the thought of it.

“Talking back is rude behavior, baby.” He hissed before pressing his lips to yours in a kiss that was hard and bruising. Biting your lower lip; drawing blood, he pulled away from the kiss. Giving you a dark, slightly unhinged look, the stoic platinum blonde swore, “Bad girls get spankings and you're going to get so many that you won't be able to sit on your red, hot ass tomorrow during our damn train ride.”

Coriolanus is sitting on the red velveteen settee at the end of his gold and red velvet framed bed. You're bent over his knees, ass up in the air while your head rests on the settee. Your arms are outstretched; your hands arm firmly grabbing the end of the red velvet material for purchase as the President smacks one ass cheek and then the other.

*Smack, smack*

Coriolanus chuckles at how red your ass is. He's been at this for a while now; both of you have lost count of how many times his hand has come down on your cheeks. He rubs the sting out of your red ass cheeks before raising his hand high up in the air and bringing it down on the right cheek, only to repeat the action on the left cheek.

*Smack, smack*

Your designer black heels are still on your feet, so they sway in the air as you kick out of reflex due to the spankings. God, he would make you keep the heels on for this. Hell, this spanking session seems to be the longest in your entire life with him. Usually he indulges in a slap or two to your ass while taking you from behind, but never anything like this.

But it could be worse. He could be a crazy, torture hungry, fucking sadist like that crazy ass General Byzantine was. The man who beat you within an inch to your life and put you up on the auction block once a couple of his Avoxes had nurtured you to suitable health.

You were overjoyed when he died about 4-4 ½ years ago. All the media outlets say that General Byzantine died from tainted tea at one of the popular tea houses in the Capitol. Apparently Coriolanus was there with him, having a meeting for political purposes since he was running for Senate and nearly died. You remember that he had canceled your sessions for a week, but still put a hefty sum in your bank account; even requested that you wear a certain color lingerie (blood red) when you resumed your little booty calls with him once he recovered from nearly dying from tainted tea.

Your black lacy cheeky panties slid up your ass crack from the force of all the spankings. Coriolanus didn't say a word, just silently righted the panties before landing another pair of smacks to your ass cheeks, causing you to let out a loud squeal.

“Did my bad baby girl learn her lesson, or do you need more?” President Snow asked, his ardent tone a bit dark and mocking as he soothed your ass by rubbing it- with both palms this time.

“I've learnt my lesson, Mister President, Sir.” You told him, choking back a moan as you grew wetter and wetter from his hands just rubbing the sting out of your ass. Oh God, how your core aches for his cock.

Coriolanus let out a deep, throaty moan at your answer. He loves it, fucking loves it when you call him Mister President and Sir. Oh, and put them both together- yea he's fucking feral.

The president slightly opened your legs, only to swipe a long finger up your wet, clothed center. “Oh, darling, you're soaked.” He proudly announced. “Is that all for me?” Coriolanus rhetorically asked, already knowing that it was all for him.

You knew that the platinum president didn't need an answer, but decided to indulge him with one anyway. “Yes, Coryo. It's always for you.”

Coryo bent down and peppered your beet red ass with kisses. The plushness of his lips against your hot sensitive skin makes you squirm. Chuckling, Coriolanus sat up and pulled your heels off, one by one, and let them fall to the floor with a loud thud. He helped you stand on your feet, only to pull down your panties and toss you onto the bed.

As you lay on your stomach, head buried in his pillow, which smelled like him- like roses, you heard the sound of Coryo slipping out of his black floor shines while unbuckling his belt. You peeked over your shoulder, only to see him quickly unzipping his maroon pants. You turned back around, resting your head back on his pillow, as he quickly shed his pants and boxer briefs.

“Lift your ass up high for me and spread your legs as wide as they'll go, baby.” The President ordered you, to which you obliged him. Your ass was raw and stung, but your pussy was throbbing with need, as Coryo kneeled right behind you on his king sized bed. “Fuck, you're always such a needy lil slut for me, darling.” He remarked upon seeing your cunt dripping and glistening for him.

Looking over your shoulder, you smirked, “Only for you, Coryo, my Mister President.”

The platinum blonde's icy eyeballs nearly rolled into the back of his head at your words. Words that went straight to his cock, making it harder- if that was even possible.

“Yes, I'm your President and you're my perfect, pretty, lil slut.” Coriolanus groaned, teasing your clit with the angry, red, leaky tip of his cock. “You remember that the next time I tell you to do something, baby girl.” He said, grabbing your hips and snapping forward; sheathing his entire 8 inches into your soaking wet cunt. “Fuck, darling, you're so goddamn tight for me.” Coriolanus groaned, pulling out only to surge forward, causing you to mewl out in pleasure.

President Coriolanus Snow has a big cock and he sure does know how to use it. That's for sure. And you let him know that too.

“Of course I'm tight for you, Coryo. You're the biggest cock I've had, the only man whose tip kisses my cervix; whose girth stretches me out with a delicious sting.” You honestly tell him, stroking his ego and making him start to pound into you relentlessly.

Hearing you say that out of all the men that you've had in your whoring career that he's the biggest and the best makes his heart soar with overwhelming pride. So much so, that he'll just have to keep you around.

Permanently.

Coryo doesn't think that you'll have any protests about it. Maybe he'll bring up the idea while you're away on business in 12. Use the time away as both a vacation and a business trip. There is a vacant cabin in the woods that he knows of by a lake that could be a setting for a romantic night or two.

“Oh…fuck…Coryo…” You moan into the pillow that you're holding onto for dear life as you surge forward with every hard, fast thrust Coryo gives you.

“You like it when I fuck you face first in the mattress like a dirty fucking slut, don't you darling?” He groans, rutting even faster while placing a hand on the middle of your back; pushing you further down into the mattress. “Fuck, you're so sexy like this, baby.” The President huffs. “So fucking sexy.”

You moan into the pillow, but it comes out in a heap of garbled drools, as Coryo's cock hits that special spongy spot deep inside of you while his heavy cum filled balls slap against your swollen, neglected clit.

“That's it, baby. Fuck yourself on my cock, you pathetic slut.” Coriolanus encouraged in a half groan as you began to meet his thrust with ones of your own. You could help it, you needed to cum so badly. Fucking yourself on his cock while he pounded you was the only way to do that.

Turning your head, so that the side of your face rest on his drool soaked pillow, you mewl and whine, “So close, Coryo. I'm so close.” Feeling that coil in your lower belly tighten, you beg, “Please, let me cum, Mister President. Please, make me cum.”

Coryo quickly unhooked the long row of clasps that held your black lacy bodice together while cooing, “Don't worry, my pretty baby, I'll make you cum” The bodice fell off your shoulders, but Coryo slipped his arm around your middle and pulled you up on your knees, only to yank the black bustier off of you; tossing it to the side.

Coryo's hands instantly grabbed hold of your tits as he continued to harshly fuck you. His hands squeezed them roughly and pinched your nipples, all the while your hands clawed his wrists for leverage as he felt your climax coming on. Coriolanus knows you're close by how your cunt's clenching around his cock. “Fucking cum for me, darling.” he ordered, biting the crook of your neck.

The feel of his teeth roughly nipping your skin, only to use his tongue to soothe it, paired with his deep, erratic thrusts, his heavy balls slapping against your clit deliciously, and his large, calloused hands roughly fondling, had you cumming with a loud moan. A moan that was a string of curses mixed with his name: Coryo.

He fucked you thru your orgasm only to shove you back down onto the bed and plunge his cock hard and fast into you. His pounding was so relentless as he chased his own release that you felt another orgasm on the cusp. Oh gods, his cock felt so fucking good hitting you on all the right spots.

Oh fuck…

“I'm gonna fuck you full with my heirs, baby.” Coryo panted, his thrust becoming sloppy. “Can't wait to fucking knock you up; see your belly swell with my growing baby inside.” He babbled as his hands roughly held onto your shoulders for leverage. “You're gonna look so beautiful all round and full of my baby, my darling rose.”

You didn't pay him any mind. Didn't say a word about his string of impossible words. You're on birth control, so his fantasy of knocking you up is just that. A fantasy. A breeding kink, to be politically correct.

Coriolanus’ hips stuttered, once, twice, three times before he was moaning, “Fuck, Y/N, baby. Fuck…”, and filling your pussy with hot ropes of his thick cum.

Feeling his hot cum spurting into your womb sent you over the edge. “Coryo…” You mewled, cumming for a second time.

He didn't stop and pull out like he usually did.

No…

This time, Coriolanus kept fucking you. He fucked his load right into your pussy, causing you to let out a shaky moan from both overstimulation and your third orgasm of the night.

Coryo finally pulled out, but only after filling you up with a second load of his thick, hot cum. Cum that was somehow leftover in his balls from the first time.

The President smugly grinned as he watched his second load of the night slowly drip out of your puffy, abused pussy- looking like beautiful white pearls.

Ah, pearls. That reminds him…

“I bought you a new jewelry set for the trip. Fancier pearls than the ones you had; they're packed in your bag.” Coriolanus told you, sitting by your side and rubbing your back as you lay on the bed like a ragdoll.

Ugh. Of course, he bought you new things, including luggage, and packed them up for the damn trip to District 12- your personal hell- that he's dragging you on.

When you didn't say a word, Coryo pushed the strands of sweat soaked hair away from your face and asked, “Are you alright, baby?”

Pushing his hand away from your face, you simply assured him, “Yea, I'm fine.”

Nodding, he told you, “I'll call your driver, tell him that you're staying the night; then I'll run us a bath.”

You've never stayed the night before, prompting you to ask, “Why're you letting me stay the night with you, Coryo?”, as he stood up.

“We're needed at the train station bright and early, Y/N. It's just easier for you to stay here so we can head out together in the morning.” The President explained before taking off to do the things he told you about.

Of course, he wanted you to stick around tonight so he can make sure that you're on that train with him heading to 12 in the morning. You're his personal high class girl. His glorified whore. If President Coriolanus Snow wants you with him tonight to ensure that you step on that train with him tomorrow, so he can fuck you during his stupid business trip in hell, then that's what he's going to get.

You don't have a say in the matter. You're just around until he gets bored of you; finds something younger and prettier to satisfy his carnal desires with.

Only you thing you don't know is that President Coriolanus Snow’s never going to get bored of you or trade you in for a younger model. In fact he thinks you're the best girl he's ever had.

Hell, the devil himself knows that the President killed for you- even if you don't know it.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @tian-monique @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons

[budgebuttons]

There's a lot of reasonably frustrated but ultimately misdirected psa-style posting about how viewers NEED to start reblogging things rather than just liking them because that is the primary mode of post circulation on this site. The modern manifestation of this sentiment seems to miss the fact that, if you've been here for ~15 years, were here prior to, during, and after the exodus to the bird app, you already know that likes have always been more common than reblogs, that many people simply don't want to put your art on their blog, and that guilting end-users into using a microblogging site A Specific Way absolutely does not work. If it did, the trend would have shifted a decade ago. Because this conversation really is that old. Regardless, the modern discourse of how difficult it is to be Seen specifically on Tumblr isn't productive because I think it ultimately misses the reason being an artist online feels so Bad, now.

The social media era has funneled Looking At Stuff on the Internet into an economy of engagement that encourages end-users to treat everything we/they see as quick, cheap, and disposable. This is just another fun and flirty way that capitalism devalues art. It's nothing new. Trying to force masses of users to behave in a way that is healthier for the circulation of art isn't going to do anything to solve the discontent we all feel when we hurl something into the void and it is ultimately ignored. I swear up and down: A higher notes number won't feel better, either. Popularity is just as demoralizing as radio silence, but it manifests differently. Instead of 4 likes and maybe 1 reblog from Old Faithful Mutual, you get a horde of people who treat you like a content machine. You keep hoping for an impossibly Bigger Number. The notifs on the first Big Number Post haven't even settled, and people are already asking when the follow-up is coming. You get anons, but most of them are trying to passively convince you to give them More Content.

It's really, really hard to make people care about art. If there was a silver bullet for making the average person appreciate the enormity of human effort behind every beautiful thing they encounter, we would have found it centuries ago.

The best thing creatives can do for their lives online is to be friendly, or at least kind, with other creators. "Big" artists don't form in-groups because they're snobs. They find each other because they casually showed each other support, and their mutual appreciation for that Thing that wound them up in the same tag becomes a foundation for connection, and in many cases, the ever-illusive Bigger Audience as they introduce themselves to each others' circles. We get more eyes on our work by building community with each other.

Where does that leave people who are just here to look at things, not post them? I think the answer is almost identical: COMMENT!! Please, comment! The first step to engaging with art on a more meaningful level is to point out something you particularly enjoy about a given work. It can go in the replies, it can go in the tags, doesn't matter!! If you notice some symbolism or make some connection, there is all likelihood that OP put it there because they desperately wanted somebody to notice it. Let them know why you like it!

Reaching for the nebulous, impossible goal of better post circulation isn't going to make being a creator online in 2023 suck less. Meaningfully connecting with each other can, will, and does. You can make someone's day just by passingly letting them know that their effort is worth more than a number.

[prideprejudce]

Also kind of related to the last alicent ask-- how objectively funny is it that the targaryens pulled alicent kicking and screaming into their weird blood purity incest tangle. For them, having uncle fathers and brother husbands and just generally blurring all the lines between family and romantic interest is sooooo normal. Yes its done massive damage to their psyches as we've seen with daemon in particular- but its pass�� to them at this point. For Alicent its breaking her BRAIN.

Like, Alicent who's deeply religious in a very westerosi faith and has classic nuclear family adjacent issues in contrast- overbearingly strict father, dead pedestalized mother to emulate, estranged sibling- is just SHOVED into the targaryen familial polycule and told to figure it out.

She keeps trying to bind herself to westerosi gender roles for comfort and safety, but bc of the targs she's now married an father/uncle figure, the girl who was supposed to be her sister growing up is now her daughter AND shes in love with her, her children are basically her siblings, and ALSO she's two of their mother in law(s?). Throw in the desperate parentification of aemond bc its not like viserys is helping her raise these kids-and its fucking her up!!! how is she supposed to have any sense of self when every role she would define herself by in a patriarchal westerosi culture has been fractured into twisted branches!!

It spiders into her other rationships too!! Her father otto has been treating her like both a daughter AND a pseudo wife, criston her lover keeps trying to assert himself over her choices in a very fatherly condescending way, and her brother gwayne is out in oldtown fathering her third son.

I sent an ask a while ago about how the tragedy of the alicent/rhaenyra/aegon triangle is that its an allegory for how targs just cant acclimate to westeros at all and end up breaking their dynasty AND the country by trying to force their culture to fit anyways, and i think you were so right in ur response that its not just rhaenyra/aegon/alicent who are the allegory but its ALL the targs in relation to alicent thats the allegory- they just cannot work with Alicent/westeros while she/its trapped in the current westerosi culture.

its hilarious bc it really is like having ONE catholic nun in an insane echo chamber hedonism cult and then being like 'why are you going insane bc of the incest and sex we're so over it it hasn't effected us whatsoever maybe if you try the kool aid you'll chill out' while she's desperately pretending none of this is happening and she's Not Involved.

this is a great point, and if you also go back to her as a child saying "you targaryens do have very queer customs" with noticeable disgust on face, and flash forward a decade later where she's marrying two of her children together in typical targaryen incest practices. I wish they had explored this more in the show and looked into how she feels about this currently, but I can't imagine she feels too great about it, and it's probably the reason why she went ULTRA religious with a five pound star medallion almost hanging from her neck. she wants at least some repentance for playing along in targaryen incest rituals, which goes against everything she was raised to believe

and like you mentioned, if you look close enough, almost EVERY relationship that alicent has is majorly twisted by either targaryen customs or her own stunted growth from being a child bride. she's now a grown woman who still has the mind of a 15 year old and is trying to navigate a civil war that she helped ignite in her rage and jealousy over her own private hell for last decade. she also swings from a protective parent role to having an almost eldest sibling like relationship with her kids who desperately crave more motherly affection from her that she is just not able to give (because she cant completely seal off her deep down resentment of them)

and to top it off, the purest relationship in her life (rhaenyra) with genuine love was also twisted into a familial one through an arranged marriage. if you also headcanon her possible romantic feelings for rhaenyra, you can times three that trauma on your score card as well

alicent literally was forced into the targaryen world of the snake eating its own tail (reduced to a bargaining chip for otto) with decades of inbreeding and family infighting for power and control and was told to play nice with them. no wonder she's out in the woods wandering around and dissociating lmao

[ladykailitha]

Icarus Part 1

Hello! I know there are a few minutes left of the poll, but there is nothing that could happen in the next 15 minutes that is going to change the outcome.

3 to 1 in favor of the main story first. The only reason I asked, was because that story has been finished a long time, but this one is just getting started. But the masses have spoken.

Original prompt here.

Summary: Eddie and the Corroded Coffin boys made it big right out of high school. So big that Metallica could open for them. Outselling the biggest bands and artists. They are huge. Then a small little indy metal band called The Fallen comes on the scene. They wear hoods and masks and go by aliases. Eddie (and most of the rest of the metal scene) are dismissive of them. More splash then talent.

Only fans don't thinks so. So when Dustin takes him to one of their concerts Eddie learns two things.

One that they are super talented.

And two, that he knows at least of one the members' of the band's real identity.

@mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @redfreckledwolf @emly03 @itsall-taken

****

Getting out of Hawkins had always been the dream. Being able to do it with three of the best people he had ever had the pleasure of knowing with their music? That was the cherry on top of the icing.

But Eddie never dreamed that Corroded would outsell one his favorite bands of all time. Never even crossed his mind to dream about.

But there it was in black and white. Corroded Coffin was the highest grossing band of the year. Metallica was seventh. Fuck they had outsold Taylor Swift for Christ’s sake.

Barely.

But it still counted damn it!

What was a surprise was the number nineteenth best selling band of the year. A band he’d never heard of before. The Fallen. It said the genre was metal in that little italic font.

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

Yeah, it was impossible to listen to every up and coming metal band. But if they had already hit this big with only their second album, surely Eddie would have heard them on the radio.

Only on their last tour Chrissy Cunningham, their beautiful and amazing manager had put an embargo on the radio because the riffs were finding their way into Eddie’s song writing. So he guessed it made sense that he hadn’t heard of them.

So he called the one person he knew who would have all the details on these guys.

“Dusty!” he greeted when the man picked up. Man. Shit, when did they all get so old?

“Eddie!” Dustin greeted back. “Finally back in town?”

Eddie grinned. “You know it. Dude, you know my tour schedule better than Chrissy does.”

“Maybe.”

He laughed. “Guess who hit the top of the most successful metal bands of the decade?”

“Oh my god!” Dustin screamed. “That’s so cool! Is the issue out on stands yet or did you get a sneaky peak for having made it to the top of their list?”

Eddie winced. “Sadly the later. But! I can bring it over to show you when I come to hang out.”

“That’s acceptable,” Dustin said. “Steve just got back in town, too. That label he works for sure does like dragging him all over the world.”

Eddie hummed. “Yeah? Where’d they send him this time?”

“Japan if you can believe it,” Dustin huffed. “He basically came home sometime around midnight and just crashed.”

Eddie didn’t know what Steve and Robin did for the studio, no one did. But the general consensus was that they were dogsbodies of some sort. Getting coffees for execs and stars, driving them places. Just stuff they didn’t want to hire out for, they made Robin and Steve do.

“I won’t be waking him up if I come over, will I?” Eddie asked, biting his lip. He had a crush on the other man. A large one. But fame and fortune kept getting in the way of something more.

“Nah,” Dustin assured him. “He woke up about an hour ago. He’s even showered and eaten. He’ll want to see you as much as I do.”

Eddie very much doubted that, but he was going to take it. “Great! This list is insane, man. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

“Come over for dinner,” Dustin suggested. “We’ll pour over the list over pizza and beer.”

Eddie rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you’re old enough for beer now.”

“Yeah, yeah, old man,” Dustin said. Eddie could feel the eye roll from here.

****

Eddie was watching Steve in interest.

He was walking around like he was used to being in high heels or something, as he would catch himself on his toes and force his feet down on his heels.

He would jump at Dustin throwing open the door. He kept touching his face and rubbing at his throat.

Robin was constantly pushing tea into his hands to get them settle. When they weren’t cradling the tea mugs, they were all over the place. Not just his face. But his back and stomach, too. Rubbing his palms on the front of his jeans.

“Dude!” Dustin hissed. “What is wrong with you? Japan can’t have been that different from America.”

Steve winced from the sound. “Bud, you are seriously being too loud. I told you that I have a migraine.”

Eddie tilted his head. “Hey do you need me to go? Butthead here said you were fine.”

Steve looked up at Eddie and his expression softened. “I’m fine as long as you aren’t yelling like Dusty Buns, here.”

Eddie chuckled. “I hear that. So how was Japan? When me and the boys went a couple years ago it was so beautiful.”

Steve rubbed his forehead between his eyebrows. “I wish I could have seen more of it. It felt like we were running nonstop. At least we aren’t roadies. I don’t think I could do the work they do. They’re the true beating heart of the operation.”

Eddie nodded. “Our last tour we had twelve trucks of roadies and equipment. It was insane.”

Robin grabbed Steve’s cold tea mug and swapped it with a warm one. Steve murmured his thanks. “I’m still not sure if I’m on this time zone yet. And I worry that this fucking migraine may throw me off even further.”

“Is that why Robin is plying you with tea?” Eddie asked. “To keep you awake enough to go bed at the right time?”

Steve nodded, humming contently over the cup of tea. “Nothing caffeinated, not really. Peppermint for the most part, honey lemon, too. She thinks I might be coming down with travelers’ cough.”

Again Steve made an aborted movement toward his face.

“Stop doing that!” Dustin hissed again. “Why do you keep touching your face like that? Did the Tibetan monks curse you or something?”

Robin smacked the back of his head. “That’s China, doofus! And no, no one has been cursed. We had to wear face masks like the surgeons wear for a lot of the trip because there had been a flu outbreak.”

Eddie nodded. “Ooh, yeah. They recommended we wear them too in certain areas, it wouldn’t surprise me if I was that twitchy when we moved to the Australian leg of the tour.”

Dustin eyed Steve warily, like he wasn’t sure if he should believe him or not, but Eddie had backed him up, so Dustin decided to let it go.

For now.

“Where were you touring again?” Steve asked Eddie after taking a long sip from his mug. “South America, wasn’t it?”

“Right in one, big boy,” Eddie enthused. “It was our first time in some of those countries so it was super exciting meeting the people, learning the culture, eating the food. I swear by the end of the tour we had all gained at least ten pounds and that was with us sweating our asses off on stage almost every night.”

Steve winced. “I don’t know how you guys do it, the stage lights we had were merciless.”

“Years and years of practice, Stevie,” Eddie said, “years and years of practice.”

Dustin turned to Eddie. “All right I think I’ve been patient enough, I want to see the top twenty money makers of metal before I vibrate out of my skin.”

Steve laughed and smacked the back of his head. “You know who number one is, why do you care about the other nineteen?”

Eddie shook his head. “Not just metal bands, my weird little friend. But out of all the bands.”

He pulled out the magazine and Dustin snatched it out of his hands, careful not to rip it.

Dustin was furiously reading the list and it was clear that he was looking for someone specific.

“Eureka!” he cried. “I knew it! I knew they were outselling other new metal bands.”

Steve looked over his shoulder. “Yeah? Who’s that, bud?”

“The Fallen!” he cried. “They are so cool man. They have these on stage personas like Daft Punk and they kick ass on stage. I was so bummed when they didn’t come to Pasadena or anywhere near there when they were doing their US leg of their tour.”

Dustin was going to school at Caltech because as much as he wanted to go to MIT his mom was worried about him being by himself, so he moved out to California to move in with Steve.

He was on campus for housing most of the year, but he came home on the weekends and that put Claudia’s mind at rest.

Steve himself had moved out to California a couple of years before. Robin and him had gotten a job at record company and had to move out there to be closer to the headquarters.

Interestingly, or at least to Dustin, Steve’s friends all found jobs out here, too.

“I saw that one,” Eddie was saying. “But I’d never heard of them are they any good?”

Dustin scoffed. “Are they any good? Holy shit are they good.”

Steve rolled his eyes. “They’re a metal band, no offense to Eddie here, but there are only three metal bands on the whole list. Most of them are pop, rap, or country. How good can they be?”

Eddie scoffed and held his hands to his heart. “You wound me!” Then he flopped on the sofa, playing dead.

“That’s what does make them so good, Steve,” Dustin insisted. “Because there are only three metal bands on the list, it means they had to work their asses off twice as hard as the others.”

Eddie popped up. “Yeah, Stevie!” He stuck out his tongue and Steve laughed.

“You got any of the albums?” Steve asked, with a flippant wave of his hand. “If they’re so good, let’s hear them then.”

A shadow crossed over Robin’s face and she looked like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t.

****

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14 Part 15 Part 16 Part 17 Part 18 Part 19 Part 20 Part 21 Part 22 Part 23 Part 24 Part 25

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[cloudyvulpine]

So something that's been bugging/concerning me about HB is specifically how old Stolas is.

(To preface this I know there's seemingly a difference between years and Hell years since the wiki distinguished the two, but they seem to work close enough for huge red flags to be raised (in my brain at least))

The wiki states Stolas is in his 30s, no specification on early or late so we're working with 30-39. And in The Circus he seems the exact same age as Blitzø, maybe a year or two older.

With Blitzø in mind we can get a more solid guess. Oops happens 15 years after the circus fire and they were probably in their late teens (15-17) making Blitzø 30-32. (Also sorry for the picture choice it was the clearest shot 😭😭)

With this in mind, Stolas is at youngest the same age and at oldest about 34 since he reinforces the timeline of things by saying it's been over two decades

Where my concern and why this has been bugging me so much is Octavia. She is 17, almost 18. Going by the absolute oldest he could be he had Via when he was 21 or 22, but I unfortunately don't think it's likely (in my heart and soul i hope this is the right answer if they ever confirm his age). With my estimations, the oldest Stolas could've had Via was 16 or 17 and at the youngest only 12 or 13. The worst part is that the visuals don't do anything to dismiss these.

Look at the differences!!! He's so, so much shorter than he is now.

Even comparing shots like this is such a difference. It's not like young Goetias are the size of adult imps, we see that in the flashback that Blitzø and Stolas were the same height when they were kids.

So yeah this whole thing has been nagging me for like 2 weeks. If he was a teenager it genuinely makes me feel a bit of sympathy to Stella too because she's probably the same age. Of course I still hate her a lot but it's all really fucked up no matter what happened

[c00and]

I’m rewatching Diaries as one does and it seems like Dante is much younger than the other guards (Garroth & Laurence)

Dante is fresh out of guard training, wandering aimlessly trying to find a purpose when he stumbles upon trouble helping Donna and Logan out. While we don’t have a real basis for what the average age a person undergoes guard trading, based on what Garroth says about his past and relationship with Asura, we can assume it’s performed quite young (Early 20s maybe)

So when Dante meets with the other guards for the first time, he’s impressed to meet the legendary Laurence and Garroth - the heads of their respective classes (which raises the question - is there only one guard academy?????). Based on their reputation and the fact that both have been guards for a long time before meeting Aphmau, it is safe to assume that they’re older than Dante by at least a substantial amount.

Look at Laurence and his backstory! A lot of time has past from his initial guard hood and the death of Sasha! And even more time between then and his appointment of head guard of Metelli!

Whether this is exactly a 15 year age gap or not doesn’t matter, point is when Garroth and Laurence return from the Irene Dimension, not only are they closer in age to Dante than they were prior, Dante might even be older than them now - which is tragic.

Here’s this kid, inexperienced and naive, kind and traumatized thrown into a harsh world, guided by the one consistent calm (debatable) in Aphmau, only to then have everything ripped from him in an instant as the only people he has to look up to disappear for a decade and a half.

Been thinking a lot about Dante and how truly noble he is. Being the only main guard not intended as Aph’s love interest allows Dante’s screen time to be used to explore more of Aph’s platonic relationships, and I think he’s neat.

So yeah, point is, I think by season two, Dante is physically considerably older than Laurence and Garroth, which absolutely has implications for their dynamic, given that he was that much younger than them in season one:

[quasiquack666]

Guys what do you think is the timeline of the Kayden-Seongik battle?

Because Seongik retired and gave up his title of First Ranker in Korea after losing to Kayden. Which meant Jiyoung became First Ranker.

However, if we assume that Jiyoung was 18 at that time of transfer to Chairwoman and First Ranker, since you can't easily inherit things as a minor in modern day, then it really has not been that long since the Kayden-Seongik battle?

Let's just say Jiyoung is 21. That's only three years ago, right? (If she's any younger this gets even more fucking crazy).

Yet the timeline makes the battle feel like it happened at least five or so years ago? Kayden only fairly recently started challenging Top 10s, maybe no more than five years ago. Since Gestella had letters from him "for a few years", which is when I presume Kayden started challenging that level.

Either way, Kayden looked a fair bit younger in the Kayden-Seongik battle flashbacks, not just slightly younger like in the Kayden-Gestella battle flashbacks. I assumed mid-30s or late-30s for Kayden in the Kayden-Gestella battle.

But if Seongik was Top 50, then presumably Kayden could've challenged that level for at least the last 10 to 15 years. Which puts Kayden at early-30s or late-20s (honestly maybe even mid-20s, Kayden looks like Mr. McSkinny Twink in the flashbacks).

That assumes Kayden's World Ranking growth was more of an S-curve (quickly growing in low ranks while young, then levelling off for the last decade since high ranks are harder to challenge). I think that adds up, since Jurion is likely mid-20s or late-20s and only just entering Top 100, but Kayden is better than Jurion, so it makes sense that Kayden was at Top 50 at the same stage.

But maybe Seongik only retired from running his organization at first, rather than give up his title, and so the title transferred only a few years ago to Jiyoung? Which still allows Jiyoung to be about 20 or 21, while the Kayden-Seongik battle took place way before. I think this explanation has to be the correct one, right?

Because if Seongik's retirement is at the same time he gave up his title, Jiyoung's age is really damn confusing.

Bro the timeline of Eleceed is super fucked up anyways, can't they just give us character ages? That would make estimates drastically easier. I know "Kayden doesn't know his age" and blah blah but the writers must still have an approximation?

I'll complain about not having ages for forever though, so this is an old grievance lmao.

[zkaus]

I need to tell you all that I FUCKING CALLED IT over FIFTEEN MONTHS AGO!! And now I don't know whether to celebrate or sob.

Probably both because 😭🫣😂😫 Episode 12 was a revelation!!

But also HOLY SHIT Armand?!?!! You brutal, conniving, sinister, murderous fuck! Way to be book accurate in the WORST possible way 🫣😬

But also... I was so damn close!!

As Armand says in the episode: "Did I catch you in a fantasy, where the boy somehow fumbles his way to publication? Where Lestat strolls past a bookstore, your book displayed in the shop window, where he buys himself a copy, reads your nasty embellishments and comes chasing after you again?"

This literally maps perfectly to how the events of the original novels play out.

Louis impulsively gives an interview (a clear provocation) to Daniel, who then publishes it as IWTV. Lestat wakes, reads Louis' book, and decides to write his own book in response and publicly announce his vampirism to protect Louis (by diverting the other vampires rage towards himself) and to both communicate with and ensure Louis can find him. He is so desperate to find and save Louis, he pulls a gigantic spotlight onto himself this causing the spiral of events in Queen of the Damned and all the rest...

The original interview is the metaphorical spark that the lit the fire (IWTV), and set the house on alight (TVL), that burned the entire neighbourhood to the ground (Akasha). And we all know Louis loves starting fires.

But it never happened so... now we know.

Its ONLY because Armand is still there with Louis in San Francisco that the original IWTV was never published, therefore the events of TVL and QOTD never played out like they did in the novels.

So now we have some confirmation... If Lestat woke up in 1984, he never came out as a vampire, and therefore Akasha never woke up. She's somewhere, sleeping still...

Also here's my (also 15 months old) theory on Dubai....

So in celebration of my apparent predictive accuracy, I have a few more theories to share about season 2, lets see if I'm right...

Or completely off 🫣🤔😂

Season 2 theories:

1. In the books, for years Armand stalked and psychologically tortured Daniel. He was 'fascinated' by him, just like in the show. I think we're going to see that although Armand convinced Louis that Daniel was only involved in 1973, he actually stalked the shit out of Daniel for the next decade (at least!) and probably never truly stopped*

*I'm fairly confident Daniel's apartment is in Trinity Gate (check out those ceilings!), and now we know Armand is into real estate it's even more likely.

2. I think we'll see that Armand moved from obsession with Louis, to obsessively amd sadistically fucking with (and actually fucking) Daniel for years and years. But when Armand eventually genuinely fell in love with Daniel (and it's reciprocated) he freaked the fuck out, and wiped/doctored Daniel's memories. Forced him to forget Armand was ever in his life at all, even manipulated Daniel by transferring his love from himself towards a woman (maybe Alice, maybe his second wife).

Then Armand went back to Louis.

3. I'm about 90% sure that in 1973, Lestat was either locked up (probably locked inside one of Armands horrible drawers in the rubble under the theatre) or horribly incapacitated. Very likely, Armand locked him away after the trial, and kept him there all this time.

In the books, Lestat was sleeping while healing during the events of 1973, so it's possible that he will be in the ground in the show. But by 1984, Lestat able to revive himself (as seen in the opening of TVL). However, in the show Lestat was awake enough in 1973 to speak with Armand. So when Armand told him that Louis was gravely injured (very much like in Merrick) we all know that Lestat would have done everything he could to get to Louis, tried anything to save Louis. So we can only assume that he can't. He's weak, malnourished and most likely imprisoned. And probably reamains so in 2022...

So now, the question becomes where the hell is Lestat right now? He would be with Louis if he could be? What the Fuck did you do Armand?!?

I'll be thinking hard on this one...

What do you think? What are your theories?

.

[razorblade180]

Random MHA chapter 427 thoughts (spoilers duh)

Midoriya is a better man than me because I’m not getting called a murderer hatefully by someone who worshiped The Hero Killer. Sir, your idol tried to kill my friend’s brother who’s just a nice person.

“You should make it a comic” is unironically a really cold response. That’s crazy.

It makes complete sense society does not give a fuck about Tomura. There’s a difference between sympathy and empathy; even if they learned everything, it’s a hard sell to make people care about someone who took their sons, daughters, mothers, fathers, etc.

I do find it a little obtuse to pin society for people like Tomura and Dabi specifically when the main reason they were such a problem is literally because the personification of evil (AFO) was plotting on these for decades. Yeah Endeavor is major key for Dabi but that boy would’ve burned to death as a child or been found by his dad/firemen if AFO wasn’t being unhinged. Honestly if we’re talking about Hero Society failing anyone specifically by its structure, it’s Toga cause not having any solution for child development regarding taboo quirks like hers is insane. Spinner’s issue essentially racism and that’s a complex problem before hero society. That’s just a societal problem in general! I personally can’t pin that blame on hero society specifically.

I see so many people hating on Deku after reading this and I just don’t get it. The 15 year old boy literally did everything he could and gave up everything but his life for a person who by no means was going to turn over a new leaf and did not feel bad about his actions.

Overhaul has been nothing but a mentally broken/unstable double amputee that’s been in confinement ever since he lost. Don’t really understand why there’s a need to kick this guy more since the villain he was has been dead forever. He’s also objectively done less atrocities and yet nobody seems to feel bad for him. Dude was also an orphan taken in by organized crime too but since he abused a child we got to learn about he deserves no sympathy? Okay. Oh we’re supposed to feel absolutely devastated by Tomura though? Pfft, I’m not. “You should feel bad about Eri forever.” Okay, but can you he do that with prosthetics and a mental institution since Y’know… he doesn’t have a quirk.

Seriously, if the message is “society should do better when it comes to how villains happen” then at least give Overhaul the ability to eat without help. I agree with the idea of Eri not seeing him but like… that dude could rebuild Japan quickly with his quirk. That MF could probably fix Dabi if he tried. Maybe I’m not hero material cause with Eri’s consent, I would’ve negotiated giving his arms back so he could fix grandpa; but before he gets to save grandpa he fixes the country and gravely injured heroes. Does it cheapen some events? Perhaps. Do I want Bakugo and Deku to not have medical problems at 22? Also yes. I’m typically not big on undoing lots of things but it’s not like the heroes didn’t earn a portion of their life back. You can spin it positively. If Endeavor isn’t in a wheel chair, then nobody has to aid him cause I’m pretty sure his wife and Todoroki are just nice enough to wheel him around but they could be doing better things.

[sakuraryomen01]

Valentino /Sukuna Ryomen x Reader/ .o9

warnings: asshole sukuna, college prep. school (aka bitch u at an expensive ass school), former friends to lovers, slow burned love, yuji is sukuna's little brother, Gojo getting a drink of water and healing up his cheek, soft! sukuna, fairly fluffy morning with sukuna and gojo, gaming with geto, a new pov!

reader: female reader; 23 years of age, college prep.

plot: It's been years since you've moved from country life, since you've forgotten about all the things you used to love about your hometown and where you grew up from... you didn't think it'd chase you to college in the city after almost a decade..

words: 4.256k

fanfic masterlist: .o1 .o2 .o3 .o4 .o5 .o6 .o7 .o8 .o9 .10 .11 .12 .13 .14 .15 .16 .17 .18 .19 .20

a/n:: not only am I starting to cook something up in my lil pea brain, i am making more fanfictions on wattpad as well! i don't know if i've let y'all know that yet but i felt i needed to tell you! there's going to be some only-wattpad reads on there (unless taken down ofc) that are hopefully gonna be good!

. . .

Thank you for reading this! Enjoy!

. . .

At first, Gojo thought that the night had started pretty decently.

He got a few new numbers at a party with Geto, aka his best friend, and a quick blow job from a lil blonde in the bathroom. He can’t exactly recall where the loo was since he was just a smidge drunk. Normally, his head would be throbbing from the alcohol within a few minutes, but it was just a light buzz. Either way, the end of the night didn’t turn out that way sadly.

He had waddled on home after Geto dropped him off at the male’s dormitory to go park, his bunned up hair and silver rings flashing in the lamplight of a pole before he spun off to the student’s designated parking lot.

Gojo had started walking back, fumbling with his keys and phone. A drunken smile on his face while he hiccuped and a coo eliciting his throat, although he looked up and saw a very sexy silhouette walking his way from his base of origin. Quickly though, he saw that it was just you, a very flustered little mess walking from the building in your casual attire. Adorable.

Messing with you was like Gojo’s favorite pastime.

He stumbled over as best he could towards you, seeing just over his shifted sunglasses with the smallest of smiles on your face. But, it disappeared and changed into a concerned gasp. Gojo felt a soft hand on his forehead, though was somewhat shocked that you had the potential to reach such a height. Though he was leaning forward, sloppy and dirty this Satoru was.

He heard you speak, but the first half was blurred. You had asked him a question out of concern. “..Are you high, drunk, or sick?”

“My girl, you're judgy so muchy~ Let me live without demands!” Gojo said in a very matter of faculty way, at least that’s what he thought. Although, he was more curious as to why you were at the male’s dorm. It wasn’t a tutoring night, was it? Oh?

Maybe something else was happening? Hm? Sounds exciting and gossip worthy.

Sadly, there was very little to offer as you fixed him up before patting his shoulder and parting ways. Well, at least that’s how it was going until a pink haired blurr rushed over and there was a loud crack sound. There was also a thump sound, but Gojo’s eyes had already closed and a groan was leaving him before everything went black.

⇦ 🃍 🃎 ⇨

“You’re kidding me, right? You had to knock his ass out?”

What..?? Who?

“He was kissing your cheek, what was I supposed to do?!”

Oh, so like a pervert? Huh, I wonder who that is..

“It’s Satoru Gojo, he’s not that big a pervert, idiot! Honestly, now he’s going to have a sore jaw or something worse!”

Gojo’s hearing was definitely coming back, there was no ringing anymore. That’s a win. And there’s two people fighting over him, one of them was a girl– he could tell. Also win. The other was a guy. Still a win, but it depends on how he looks. Either way, Gojo’s eyes slowly began to open and the light of the tv was starting to register for him. The room he was in was a living room, with a blanket poorly draped over his middle and left leg.

It wasn’t that big a deal though, seeing as he was tall as fuck and not many blankets covered him now.

“..Mghh..” He grumbles, pressing his brows together and lifting a sore hand up to his cheek. Feeling the damage, there was just a sore ache and a bump. But thankfully, whoever found him gave him an ice pack for the swelling. “Wha’s goin’ on?”

“Oh he’s awake?” A man’s voice rings through Gojo’s ears and there’s a sudden twinge of annoyance with it. “Finally. He’s stinking up my couch.”

“You’ve gotten really dramatic,” A woman’s voice spoke back, a sigh of annoyance before stepping over to check on the currently disgruntled Gojo.

Gojo’s eyes managed to adjust to the light and landed on you, smiling and reaching up to pat your thigh. “Oh, so you are the one fighting with some guy over me. I’m touched.”

You chuckle at this before removing the ice pack, checking his jaw and cheek before returning it to its spot. Looking over at the man at the kitchen counter, Gojo recognized the pink fluffy hair and sat up. Seeing a very ruffled freshman with drooping eyelids and resting his cheek on the palm of his hand. Eyes glued to Gojo and you being close with a slight annoyance on his face.

I mean, of course he would. You’d be mad if you knocked someone’s lights out and they were moved into your living room to recover.

“So, can he go now?” Sukuna muttered, pressing his brows together and letting out another sigh of annoyance. Clearly Sukuna didn’t like having other guys over. It’s giving, no friends?

“Just relax,” You said, giving Gojo’s head a pat and huffing. “He’s not that bad of a stay.”

A dark look crossed the pink haired punk's face at the mention of Gojo, but it quickly faded as he made his way over to the kitchen’s fridge. He pulled out what seemed to be either a beer or a soda can and cracked it open, taking a sip and walking over. Letting his free black nail painted hand sit comfortable on his hip, looking down at the situation with a disapproving glare.

Gojo chuckled weakly at this and sighs, rubbing his jaw and returning the glare. “What~ Don’t trust me?”

“Not really,“ Sukuna replied flatly and grumbled, lowering his drink from his lips and nodding towards his room. “Either way, she’s gonna be sleeping in there. You.. You just stay there. I’ve heard about you and your moments with girls.”

While you sat there, watching the obvious alpha vs alpha moment– total cringe by the way– you laughed and grabbed some blankets and pillows that decorated the couch and started getting the space ready for two men to sleep in. 

“Boys,” Is all you said while you roll your eyes, taking the bundle of warmth into the next room while the said boys continued their little staring contest.

You quickly made a place for Gojo and Sukuna to both sleep in the living room, although everything in your mind said to just switch with Sukuna instead. You couldn’t go into Sukuna’s room, it’s too embarrassing and personal wasn’t it? For him at least?

Nonetheless, you finished setting up your bed and quickly making sure with Sukuna that it was absolutely alright to sleep in there, you badgered him into watching three different horror movies with Gojo. Picking between the three though, it was a little tougher than you had planned it to be.

“Friday the 13th is one of the dumbest horror movies,” Sukuna said, arms crossed on his end of the coffee table.”I like seeing tits as much as the next guy, but Nightmare on Elm Street has more story.”

Oof, you got him there, Sukuna.

“At least Friday the 13th is better than Halloween!” Gojo whined in response, lifting up the movie’s case and shaking it. Pointing at the label, right under the “uncut” bit of it. “At least it’s not this garbage! This has almost no plot other than a psycho chasing after his baby sister like a weirdo.”

True, true..

While the boys continued to rant and grumble, you stood from your cushion on the floor and grabbed the movie you had chosen. It was fairly recent, kinda creepy and gross, and with a dancing clown. Opening the case, the crack caught the attention of the two guys at the table and you pop in the DVD. There was a triumphant smile on your face as you made your way to the kitchen and grabbed three bowls and spoons.

“What did you put in?” Sukuna asked, his brows furrowed in obvious annoyance. “We agreed we would be coming to a decision together.”

You shrug and pull out a big tub of ice cream you had purchased earlier when Sukuna had gotten sick. “Y’all keep bickering so I decided to choose mine. It’s a little spooky, a little gross, and has a clown in it.”

The white haired, blue eyed, slightly drunk Gojo shuddered and pressed his brows together. He had seen this movie with Geto before and the fear inside him made him cringe. “Really? It? Did you have to choose that creepy movie?”

Sukuna waves a hand, watching you put ice cream into the bowls from the massive tub you had bought. “Hold on, is it the 1990 version or the 2019 one?”

You sigh and shake your head as you finish putting up the ice cream and make your way over to the table. Placing the bowls on the table and making at least one of the boys smile, while sitting between them and lifting the remote to skip through the previews that were already playing. Sukuna grumbles under his breath, something he appears to be doing often, and you play the movie. The scene starts on a thundering day in Derry, the gray sky giving an ominous feel to the already creepy music that was playing. The camera pans to a large and abundant home that held two brothers, Billy the oldest, and Georgie the youngest. 

The pair are currently working on a paper boat, Billy smiling once he finishes and turns to his little brother. Asking him to go and get some wax to finish their little paper boat, but Georgie complained until he was finally convinced to go get the wax.

During this, Gojo had managed to scoot his way over to join you and face the TV screen. Actively scooping his ice cream with a childish gleam in his eye as he watched the movie, while Sukuna sat somewhat farther away, side eyeing the both of you with a huff and an upset look on his pouty face. While you wanted to tease and make fun of the face, you stayed quiet as the movie played on.

The iconic 2019 scene with Georgie and Pennywise started, the clown being played by the fabulous Bill Skarsgård. You smile and look between the two men before smirking and announcing suddenly;

“Bill is really pretty.”

The sudden confession earned you a confused side eye from the boys, their brows raising in perfect harmony. “Sorry?” Gojo started, still sucking on his cream covered spoon between his pink lips. You chuckle at the dumbfounded looks and stay quiet, letting their minds fester in confusion until the scene where Pennywise and Georgie meet and start to talk.

Sukuna’s tongue clicks at the cgi that plays later, making you giggle and lean back against the couch, continuing to munch on the ice cream and snuggling into your blankets. Smiling as the boys also got comfortable. Sukuna puts his bowl on the table once his dessert is gone, Gojo’s already on the table since he finished a while ago.

While you wanted to stay up and watch more movies with them, your eyes started to slowly close. And while the main group of the movie started getting hallucinations of Pennywise, and their darkest fears, you had fallen asleep. Head resting on Sukuna’s shoulder and thoroughly surprising him. 

Gojo glanced over with half his face behind the blankets and chuckles, smiling slightly at the cutesy scene before him. “Aren’t you two snuggly~? Kinda cute of you to act like that, punk.”

“Says the punk,” Sukuna grumbled back, brows pressed together in a quiet attempt to regain some dignity. Though, that didn’t come back as he lifted you into his strong and warm arms, biceps flexing under the weight. “I’ll get her to bed. You just.. don't touch anything."

Gojo lifts a hand and uses his other to make a cross across his chest, turning his attention back to the movie and letting Sukuna take you to bed. (But once Sukuna got back, he was definitely convinced that Gojo used it as an excuse to get more ice cream.) The trip wasn’t long, and Sukuna couldn’t help but glance down at your sleeping face before entering his own room, seeing your cute little lips still as plump as before. Doing that same pout they always did whenever you slept. 

The pink haired bad boy wasn’t particularly proud that he remembered your sleeping face from years ago, but he still did. It doesn’t matter anyways. Sukuna didn’t want to get cuddly anymore.

He’s not the kid he once was, the one that followed you around during school so that he could keep an eye on you. To protect you from all the other snot nosed fourth graders that dared side-eye you a certain way. That wasn’t the same Sukuna Ryomen that was carrying you to bed right now.

Once he had placed you on the mattress, he let his mind wander for a moment and he brushed his fingers lightly against your cheek. Pushing some stray hairs behind your ear with a small hum– he didn’t want to enjoy it, despite all the little holes inside him begging to.

With much restraint, Sukuna’s hand removed itself from your cheek. There was a weird twinge in his chest at this, his hand even clamping up and turning into a fist as he stood. Patting his shorts off though, the feeling soon left. But he felt it linger in his heart when he left the room and closed the door, walking back into the living room to see that Gojo had already claimed the couch and was nuzzling into a pillow asleep.

Woe is the one with no bed to slumber..

With a sigh, Sukuna gathered the empty bowls and went to wash them up in the sink. Letting the warm water from the faucet wash away all the bubbles and cloudy thoughts in his head. Watching the suds foam around his fingers and the sponge, wiping away the ice cream residue on the bowels and spoons. The urge to get a beer and fall in bed with you though was powerful, so all his restraint was holding him back from doing so.

“What the hell..” He muttered to himself, letting one of the spoons slip from his grip and clang in the metal sink. “Ah, shit..”

When did he become so soft? It’s been a month, hasn’t it?

Sukuna stills, squeezing the sponge lightly in his grip. Realizing that it took just a month– maybe even a few weeks– for you to already worm your way back into his heart. He didn’t want that, he didn’t need it. That little childish promise he made all those years ago was just some little dream he once had. It had no real meaning, no need to further investigate.

“..That’s it..” Sukuna says quietly to himself, rinsing off the bowls and spoons before putting them on the rack. Wiping off his hands and going to get a spare change of clothes quickly, making sure to keep quiet as best he can to not wake you or the punk on his couch.

He got his coat and his shoes, grabbing his keys and taking one last glance back at his now full dormitory. Grimacing at the pervert on his couch, and the girl in his bed, he left and locked up the apartment. Rushing down the hall, despite it being almost twelve at night, to find a girl willing to release himself on. Sukuna had to get you out of his head, he didn’t care how, he didn’t care who.

Letting you control over his heart was something he didn’t want you to do to him again.

⇦ 🃍 🃎 ⇨

After you had woken up in your childhood best friend’s bed, you were quick to clean up the room as best you could before leaving to ask to borrow the shower. What you didn’t expect was to find Sukuna missing from his sleeping area on the floor. You were curious but didn’t want to call him, seeing as he was an adult and could take care of himself.

While you were anxious about using it without permission, you stripped in his room and got a towel to wrap yourself up in. Putting your dirty laundry and undies into the washing machine before heading into the bedroom to use the shower. You went to work washing your body, making sure to take care of your hair and face properly, even though you didn’t have your face washing items with you on hand.

Then again, you didn’t plan on staying the night at Sukuna’s dorm.

Now that you thought about it, sleeping in Sukuna’s bed was a lot more embarrassing than you thought. Letting your thoughts wander, you started to remember how warm the bed actually was. It was comfortable, with sheets as soft as clouds, and a pillow that hugged your face and relaxed your neck throughout the spine.

Blissfully remembering your sleep and the peaceful dreams that clouded them, you got out of the shower and dried off. Wrapping a towel around your chest, taking special care to make sure the slit of the towel was covered before leaving the bathroom only to be startled and slam the door closed just as quickly as you had opened it.

Sukuna. Behind the door.

“...What the hell?” His voice croaked out after a second– once you had finished screaming your heart out of course. “What are you doing in a towel?!”

“SHOWERING, OBVIOUSLY!!”

There was more silence between you two, before you cracked the door open to see Sukuna rummaging through his drawers for something. Completely shielding his view of you, which made your heart throb slightly. Doki Doki? You got out of the bathroom and squirmed in your spot by the door before Sukuna tossed a large shirt over his shoulder at you and grabbed some shorts as well. 

His brows pressed together with a gruff tone to his voice. “Go on, put them on.”

“Ah, Sukuna..” You blush slightly at the gesture, shaking your head when you catch the shirt. “R-Really, I’m okay–”

“I’m not letting you walk around with your pussy out. Put it on.”

The vulgarity in his words make your face flush bright red. Steaming so badly you swore you heard the sounds of a kettle whistling in your head. With a shaky sigh, you lift the shirt over your still damp hair and turn to face the bathroom. The cool fabric touches your skin, sending small waves of goosebumps across your arms and legs. Once the shirt was on fully, you pulled the towel out from underneath the shirt and patted down the bum portion and front a little before looking back to Sukuna.

“..N-Now the shorts.” He says calmly, averting his attention from you and tossing over the shorts, sitting on the bed with a hand covering a good portion of his face. “Hurry up. The breakfast I got for you and that twink is gonna get cold.”

“Oh? That’s where you went?”

Pulling up the shorts over your legs and waist, Sukuna nods and slowly starts making his way out of the room. Face still covered in what you could only imagine as pure embarrassment of the situation. Sorry Sukuna..

You made yourself look normal, drying your hair out and applying some lotion you got from the bathroom, before getting out of the room and into the main living area where Gojo was already up and rubbing his sore and sleepy eyes.

“Morning,” He said, a pout to his lip at the sudden disturbance of being awake. “Shower? You smell nice.”

You nod and pet his head, chuckling before heading over to the counter and looking at the breakfast Sukuna claimed to have brought home. He lifts a bag with a bright label and begins pulling out platters. The see-through lids reveal hotcakes with other assortments of breakfast items and some syrup. Sukuna placed these platters on the counter while you stood next to him and watched his movements.

Personally, he thought this was kinda cute. He wouldn’t tell you that though. He’s not that kind of guy to get all mushy over feelings.

So, he settles for a small pat on the head, a ruffling of your still damp hair and hums. “Grab a platter and some utensils. It’s messy too so get a few napkins.”

You raise a brow and look over at the pink haired man, pursing your lips. “I’m not a messy eater, you know that!”

“That’s not what the younger you would say,” Sukuna teases, sitting at the couch– practically crushing Gojo’s legs– and flipping through channels on the TV until he found the news station. Letting your broil in your own embarrassment at the mention of your childhood eating habits.

“Y-You.. Just.. shut up.”

There was a triumphant smirk on his face. He won.

You gathered the remaining food and sat on the floor between the two, handing Gojo a platter as well and starting to eat. Giving thanks for the food before watching the TV as well, grumbling to yourself. “Can’t we watch some cartoons or something? It’s a Saturday!”

“Cartoons are for babies,” Sukuna responded while shoveling down a pancake. Whole. Like a damn snack. “I want to see the weather at least.”

“That’s so old of you,” Gojo huffed. “Be cool for once.”

Sukuna returned with an authoritative grunt and quietly watched the screen as the weather analysis was brought up. “Silence and eat.”

The forecast predicted sunshine during the morning and afternoon with relatively calm winds and decent heat. During the evening though, there was a slight chance of rainfall or a mild thunderstorm. It didn’t matter much to you, seeing as you’ll be at your dormitory gaming with Geto later.

“Nice, now you know what’s gonna happen,” You say, turning your attention back to Sukuna. His maroon eyes turned to you, glazed over with some kind of annoyance. You smirk and lift your hand over your shoulder for the remote, wiggling your fingertips slightly. “May I, sir?”

He takes a deep breath and hands over the remote and slowly goes insane as some cartoons were flipped to. Their annoying intro songs playing and driving him even deeper into a Hell he didn’t wish to go down.

⇦ 🃍 🃎 ⇨

That day during your classes, they felt like a fever dream.

You couldn’t put your finger on it. Everything went by in a blur, and you kept replaying the events of this morning in your head. Seeing Sukuna in such a calm state, it made your chest ache. You felt a small twinge at the thought of how he was every morning. Borderline obsessing over it. 

It wasn’t until you had a talk with Geto did you clear your head.

Kicking someone’s ass at Mario Kart was every child's gamer dream.

Geto’s fingers tapped at the buttons, as did you. Focused on the screen as you discussed your struggling, somewhat creative love life– slash friendship recovery. That’s what it was supposed to be in the first place.

“So.. what you’re saying is..” Geto trailed, turning a sharp corner on the rainbow bridge and grumbling. “..Sukuna saw the goods?”

Your cheeks burn a little and you pout your lips, clicking the toggles and buttons. “No.. He just saw me from out the shower in a towel. He also got breakfast, and then drove me to classes today too.”

Geto side eyes you with a small smile and hums. “Interesting.”

“And then he says to not worry about it and that he’ll return my clothing once they’re done by tomorrow ‘cause he’s going to the gym and he’ll swing by. Swing by? Not only does he do things like this for me, but he also let me keep one of his old shirts! He’s sending mixed signals all the time! He’s more confusing than most of my history homework.”

Geto nods, still focusing his game, he listens with a smirk to his face. His brain worked overdrive just imagining all the drama that was going on. To him, he knew what the problem was. No one told anyone anything, letting the problems arise and fester. Letting their feelings just bubble in their chests but never say anything.

Such a troubled couple. Just talk, not that hard.

“Well, my advice is to relax more around him,” He says quietly, rushing over the finishing line and turning to look at you. “If you let your guard down a little, he’ll open up more– I think anyways. Sukuna’s a tough person, just let him lean on you. He clearly needs that.”

You stare at Geto in silence, somewhat stunned by the advice before nodding a little.

“Alright.”

Geto nods and stands, heading to the kitchen and grabbing a drink to have before heading off to his dorm and going to sleep. You had turned off the console you both played on, removing the game as well and giving your goodnights. Geto returned the pleasantries and headed out, leaving you and your already sleeping roommate alone in the home.

You got to bed rather quickly, showering quickly and putting your things away, changing into your pjs and folding Sukuna’s clothes neatly into your chair. You rolled around in your bed before facing said chair and staring at them, fiddling with your pillow casing and pressing my brows together.

“Sukuna.. What are you thinking..?”

. . .

a/n: how is y'all doing today? i hope you're doing good ^^;; i am currently struggling with my gen psychology class, it's nothing fancy rn but omg does my brain hurt. anyways, if u guys read the top, i have a wattpad now! there's nothing special about it right now since it's got the current fanfictions on there but yeah wanted to lyk!!!

a/n (.2):: i finished my gen psychology class with a B! i'm literally so proud oml but now i gotta struggle with history ~~;;; also, i'm trying to get back into thr groove for writing my drabbles again ~~;; lmao i'm literally so used to writing for fanfictions right now XD

Chapter Song Theme: — Play Date / Melanie Martinez / lyric video

taglist: @mageyboo, @mzladyd , @mysticwonderlandangel, @sukunaspersonalflashlight, @kawaiipenguin20, @k-indie, @okkotsufav, @cafeinthemoon93, @pulchritxde, @bontenbunny, @deepinballs, @kleeboomed, @fiierytearzx, @wo-ming-bai, @instantgalaxysheep, @watyousayin, @z3r0art, @sukunaobsessed, @lik0, @sukunasfirstlove, @princesstiti14, @nemoyr, @ladywolf44005, @cat-mak20, @coffee-on-a-rainyautumn, @hxlalokidottir, @domainofmarie, @the-moongoddess, @dark-n-dirty-duchess, @agentdedf1sh, @sukunastoy, @lyn-soso, @bao-yu-sarah-morningstar-wang-9, @heyitstacy, @lost-in-tokyo, @marksassybanana, @bozos-r-us , @p-3-4-c-h, @chaoticqueen33, @dxxny-loves-u, @l0tus-in-l0ve , @jiordeci, @opossum0-0, @gumisgirl

last chapter || next chapter

[bisexualbard-writes]

KimChay prompt

I give you: Soulmate AU

Everyone has a timer in their wrist that shows how many days your soulmate has left to live

For Chay the timer changes every day but the number of days is never more than one year. Chay is very, very concerned for his soulmate and the kind of life he is living.

For Kim, he's convinced that his soulmate is also part of the Mafia or something worse because his timer is just weird. This morning his soulmate had over 50 years left, but something happened between 9am and 9:25am so now his soulmate is gonna die by the end of the week! Then, before lunch his timer changes again and Kim's soulmate will live for another 89 years

How do you think Kim would react to Chay? Just normal, kind, brave, zero situational awareness Chay who hasn't realized how many times he's been about to die

Also Helloo Hiiii how are you?

Hiiiiii, Hellooooo, I'm doing okay other than all this writer's block haha. Onto the timer soulmates!!

Kim wakes up in unfamiliar territory and nearly jolts up before he realizes the uncomfortable feeling below him is a pullout couch and the comforting weight on top of him is Chay.

His maybe-probably soulmate. 

Warmth spreads across his cheeks when he realizes they spent all night pressed up against each other like this. Trying not to jostle Chay, Kim checks his watch. The time, 7:00AM, is expected for his internal body clock. Then he pulls down the wristband on his watch and checks his timer, 20:05:03:23:15, which is not expected. 

Twenty years? When he fell asleep last night, the boy in his arms had fifty some odd years left to live, and this morning it’s down to twenty? 

The timer changes sometimes, everyone’s does. The mechanics are still a bit of a mystery to the world, but it’s a guarantee that when a timer runs out, that person’s soulmate dies. It seems like Kim’s timer fluctuates more than other people’s, but Chay hadn’t led the safest life even before he started hanging out with the third son of Thailand’s biggest mafia family. 

Actually, when Kim suspected Chay’s magnetic pull was more than just a simple crush on Kim’s part, he made a phone call ensuring all the Kittisawat debts were paid off and any loan sharks in the area knew Chay was protected.

On that day Kim’s timer jumped from a worrisome ten years to a more comfortable fifty.

That would have been more than enough for most people to prove they were soulmates, but Kim maintains a healthy amount of doubt. Or denial rather. 

He doesn’t want Chay tied to him. His little intervention took a whole week of planning to make the orders look like they were coming from someone other than Kim. He doesn’t want his family finding out Chay is important, it’s  too dangerous for Chay to get involved with them. This morning is proof of it, their deepening relationship is taking decades off of Chay’s life. 

The boy in his arms begins to stir, and then stills suddenly. The corner’s of Kim’s lips twitch up when he feels Chay’s breaths quicken as he likely realizes he’s sleeping half on top of Kim, and then forcibly slow down again. 

“Why are you pretending to be asleep?” Kim finds himself asking. He hadn’t even planned to break their peaceful silence, but he’s a little obsessed with Chay and desperate to understand what goes on in his mind. 

Chay answer about barely believing any of this is real is like a knife to Kim’s heart, because it’s not. Kim is hiding so many things from him. He hasn’t even mentioned to Chay his thought that they might be soulmates, and that’s the least of the things Kim is keeping from him. 

Chay unknowingly twists that knife when he looks up at Kim with his big, lovely eyes and asks Kim if he loves Chay. He’s never looked at the timer on Chay’s timer, but he thinks it probably just lost a decade of time. 

He doesn’t respond to Chay’s question, instead sending him off to fetch breakfast for them. 

Kim should leave, he tells himself as Chay cooks. He should leave and never return. It’s better to know Chay is out in the world without him, than have to live in a world where Chay is dead because Kim was greedy with him. 

When the doorbell rings, Kim makes his decision. He’ll slip out while Chay isn’t looking, and never come near him again. 

Then he hears Chay scream, and walking away isn’t an option. 

He fights tooth and nail, but he let his guard down too much and he’s not prepared to fight. Chay’s cries have made him frantic and erratic, and he knows he’s leaving holes in his defenses. Just as he’s starting to get his fighting brain turned on he gets tazed. It hurts like a bitch but he keeps going, fighting back as he gets tazed again. 

He goes down. The last thing he sees is Chay helplessly splayed on the ground. 

When he wakes up Chay is gone. 

Kim’s timer reads 00:00:05:08:15. 

Five days. 

If Kim does nothing, Chay will die in five days. 

He won’t let his happen. 

He picks up the phone and dials the number he swore he’d never call for help again. 

Kim watches the seconds tick away on his timer with as the call rings. 

“Kim?” Kinn asks curtly when he picks up. 

Kim takes a deep breath. “I need help,” he utters. 

His timer jumps. 89:03:12:06:45