#its she who had to leave her country and career and family to go live on a fucking farm

[comradeharrison]

Kaksjdhd I'm so sorry I definitely meant to send that Linda and Paul ask to someone else but my drunk ass can't do anything right. Btw you're totally right and that was a good point. So maybe my drunk ass picked the right person after all. Or maybe my hand eye coordination struggles after the fourth shot of vodka. Both can be true. Anyways, I also liked the comments. Although tbh I don't personally like John and Paul, it just doesn't make me wet the way it does for other people (I don't mean sexually I just mean in general). But I wonder about Paul romanticizing that relationship. Paul did more or less say that Linda was or should be a god. Which is very sweet, but I think it falls into romanticizing tbh. But also the man has been through a LOT and Linda was probably at least at one point his only path to peace and joy. How do you cope with your only true hope being taken away? We would all be lucky if we coped as well as paul. I think Paul probably makes it into something beautiful, but that's also just how aging works, and how loss works. It doesn't have to be true to matter.

I figured dw vodka can do that to the best of us 😆

Tbh there was a lot of trauma attachment going on Paul's part if you consider the start of his relationship with Linda. Same as with John. All of Paul's major attachments (by major I mean romantic or semi-romantic life altering ones) were formed after he suffered major losses - John after his mother's death, Linda after/during the breakup with John/The Beatles. The fact that he married Heather so soon after Linda's death also points to it, it's just a Paul thing.

As for romanticizing, it's just human and also it's understandable for Paul to be extra respectful while talking about a dead spouse. If there was any friction in the marriage - which I highly doubt - Paul wouldn't talk about that in public and definitely wouldn't say anything his kids wouldn't want to be said about their mother. He is responsible for Linda's memory and legacy.

[tteokdoroki]

THE PERFECT SHADE OF PURPLE - suguru geto.

✩ — about. “i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop.” suguru geto never thought he’d end up here. in a new city with a new job and a new life. he never wanted to lose his little sister to his best friend. he never wanted to replace her. never wanted to fuck someone who looked exactly like her. but here you are, and geto can’t help but want you the same way he wants her. he just had to get that off his chest… ( 11.4K )

✩ — warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! dark content, nsfw, smut, hurt-comfot, open ending - video banner ! AITA-verse!au (read part one here !), bakery!au, italics mean the characters are speaking in japanse, situationships, co-dependency ( on suguru geto ), manipulation, gaslighting, praise, use of oni-chan/nii chan/imouto, fingering (f!receiving), public sex, unprotected sex, oral sex (f!receiving), overstimulation, orgasm control, multiple orgasms, creampies, bilingual!geto, japanese speaking + fem!reader.

✩ — things to note. hehe hi everyone!!! pls im reposting this again :( it was written as a gift for @todorosie and the very idea spawned from her love for geto in my AITA gojo fic !! it’s sort of a continuation and set in the same universe so you might need to read to understand the plot. special thanks to @antizenin for beta reading n helping me come up with some ideas !! enjoy guys, mwah mwah - m.list ⋆ read on ao3 ! ִ ࣪𖤐₊ ⊹

look, i know it’s bad… but my adopted sister and i were always close. she looked up to me and needed me for everything, up until a month ago when she betrayed my trust and fucked my childhood best friend.  i got a therapist, went low contact and moved to a completely different country in order to avoid w everything. but nothing helped, i think of my sister every day and sometimes… i picture bad, dirty things. recently i met this girl, she’s the spitting image of my adoptive little sister. they look the same, act the same — i think i’ve started falling for her. i buy her gifts like i would for my sister and she likes them. we recently fucked at her place of work, i know it’s wrong but i just can’t stop. 

TLDR: i’m fucking and have feelings for a girl that’s a carbon copy of my adopted younger sibling.

the city of new york is meant to be the city of dreams.

at any given moment, your fate can change. anything can happen here, you can make it big and live out your life or you can go home and lead one of regret. suguru geto feels like neither are true for him. the bustling city and flashing lights, busy concrete streets and honking taxis bring the dark haired  man anything but joy. suguru isn’t happy here, in new york, despite all the wonders that it holds — irregardless of the grand job opportunity he has waiting for him just around the corner. 

suguru geto had the chance of a lifetime to develop his career as a criminal defence lawyer in one of the most opportune cities in the world. his dream since he was old enough to understand the wrongs of the world. 

but that’s merely not enough to keep him content, to make him want to stay. 

he doesn’t want to go home either, he’s sure he would hate himself for thattoo. it would be a waste of suguru’s talents to return to japan prematurely, with its nauseating air and sense of betrayal that follows him everywhere he goes. home is supposed to be where one is happiest and safest — it’s where his family is, where he was raised and first opened his eyes. but for the lawyer, japan no longer serves to comfort him and only constantly reminds the man of his little sister, who’d fucked his best friend just a month prior. 

that very instance was enough reason for him to leave the country in the first place — he had to get out, had to escape the very fact that haunted him day and night. 

like any other adult with a shit load of trauma, suguru invests in the best therapist his money can buy — especially now that he can’t spoil is younger sister with it. the older woman with her stuffy office, beady eyes and chipped painted nails had prescribed the man with a short break, a change of pace from the life he was used to, to give himself the grace and time to heal from the heartbreak of losing the two most important people in his life. his best friend, satoru gojo, and his adoptive little sister. 

he had no idea where gojo was now, thirty days later, and suguru knew his little sister had probably moved out of their hometown by now to kick start her career. so even if all of that meant that suguru geto could go home…he wouldn’t. he would use the vastness of new york to give himself the breathing room he needed to heal, fill his bloodstream with fresh oxygen so that it would clot and cover up his fresh wounds of betrayal, turn scabs into scars and let him slowly recover.

at least that’s what his therapist had told him to do — in the suffocating purple walls of her office. 

yet, so far, suguru’s escape to new york hadn’t exactly gone according to plan. every corner of the city painfully reminds him of the hole in his heart, where his innocent little sister should be. after her graduation he’d planned on taking her here as a reward for all of her hard work, but now, suguru faces his own bitter reality — every landmark has her face etched into its side, skyscrapers and their glass windows refract the light of her smile, while famous dinner spots tie to the endless list of reservations she’d reminded suguru to make. hell, even his daily routine of hailing infamous yellow taxi cabs reminds him of her precious excitement to go. 

new york was a city big enough for both geto siblings, but too large for just the one. 

it’s a wonder that suguru has been able to live without his sister for this long — it’s only been a month but he’s spent his entire life looking out for her. protecting her. he hardly knows what to do with himself now that he has all this extra time. 

suguru knew that she was way too dependent on him, it was bad — he was painfully aware of that. but he couldn’t help it, she needed someone to protect her and nurture her, she needed someone to teach her about the dangers of the world. she needed her big brother. perhaps if the dark haired man had been less protective of his sister and given her some sort of independence… then maybe he wouldn’t miss her so much, he wouldn’t have lost his best friend as collateral damage in the process. he would still have the two of them, and she could be happy with gojo. 

the guilt of what ifs and what could have beens tirelessly weigh down suguru’s heart at the thought — he caused this. this rift between the soul-bonded pair. if he had raised her better, let her spread her wings like a free bird, then he would still have her in his life. 

at this point, he’s realised something dire. suguru can’t live without her, his little sister. her bright eyes in the morning and the sweet tune to her voice when she calls out for him — it’s weird, it’s bad…how much he misses and needs her. borderlining on strange, it’s only now that suguru realises how unhealthy their dynamic as siblings had been. how reliant he was on his baby sister to need him. it should have never been that way, he shouldn’t need her so desperately to function. keeping her under such a close watch was probably what drove her into the arms of satoru in the first place. 

the concrete wilderness of suguru’s new home provides no relief from these epiphanies and the chambers of his heart that slowly seem to be dying without his sister. instead he feels trapped in his own addiction, as if he’s going through the withdrawal after dependency on drugs. 

whenever suguru feels immense waves of guilt, like a tsunami that might pull him under and replace the clean air in his lungs with the murky water of his own sour thoughts and emotions; whenever he misses home a little too much; whenever he feels like the world his crashing down on him once more — his therapist and her purple nails tapping against her clip board comes to mind. she tells suguru to take a walk, especially when he’s overcome with thoughts of the situation back in december. when his chest feels too tight and feels like picking up the phone and calling his sister before he’s ready to. 

so geto does just that, lugging on his winter coat as he prepares to take a walk downtown while the sun sets.

suguru tends to think that his therapist is full of shit. 

she believes in the colour purple, she believes that there is purpose and meaning in concepts like colours that are based on fact and science. the light reflects, and people see colour. 

as she had explained to the man in an hour long session just two weeks ago, purple is supposed to be the colour of healing; though to suguru, purple makes him feel sick. it’s everywhere, in the lavander-ish off-white walls of his new york-rented apartment, the flowers in the stalls on his way to work, the skies at night. suguru thought he was a rational man, that he was calm and collected — able to see the reasons behind everything he comes across…but he still doesn’t understand the significance of colours like purple and its connection to healing. 

all suguru knows is that he did like the pretty hollow shade that formed a ring around satoru’s bright blue eyes. of course, after having the shit beaten out of him for touching what belonged to suguru. for corrupting his innocent baby sister. 

aside from that, tonight’s walk is mostly uneventful, full of couples getting ready for date night and business people heading home to their happy families for the night. suguru despises them, strangers on the street minding their own business. he hates these passer-bys for their happiness, a joy he can no longer experience. going home. it leaves a bitter taste on his tongue. 

he misses his family. the warmth and love from his mother, the poor jokes from his father… the looks of adoration and hugs from his sister. it’s not fair. he shouldn’t have had to give that up because of the selfish actions of his ex-best friend. 

suguru decides to turn back and head for his apartment when the street lamps start to flicker and turn on. 

however, on his commute, a familiar scent tickles his senses and brushes over his nose. the man finds himself following, enchanted by rich flavours that he recognises from his youth — sweet red bean and spicy curries overlay the city’s natural smells and suguru makes an attempt to track it down. like a fool, he sprints after the scent like a hound dog tracking a hunt and stops a few strides short of a quaint japanese bakery with a set of deep indigo flowers climbing up it’s worn down exterior. 

suguru recognises the flowers to be shobu. irises. 

standing before the sliding doors, geto inhales, overwhelmed and overcome with emotion. the sweet smell triggers memories of home and how his parents would take him and his sister out to get treats when they were small. how that became a tradition for the geto siblings when they were old enough to go out on their own. 

he remembers how his sister would beg him for a box of sakura mochi every time they went, and how he would so easily relent — even if it meant spending all of that week’s pocket money. suguru is so carried away with his thoughts that he hardly notices himself taking steps into the bakery, or lining up at the counter, or you.

calling him up to the counter. 

you’re a pretty girl. that’s the first thing suguru notices. your eyes are beautiful, a deep brown that reminds him of roasted chestnuts and warm chocolates, your face is round with a soft edge of youth. the uniform that you wear hugs every dip and curve of your body and the braids you have are lengthy and black, perfectly framing your face. when you speak, your voice carries gentle dulcet notes that make suguru’s heart flutter — like music to his ears. 

you are one thousand percent suguru geto’s type and everything about you, this little bakery attendant, reminds suguru of his younger sister. 

right then and there, everything clicks into place for him. 

“sir, can i get you anything?” you ask him kindly, not wanting to push or scare away a potential customer. nor pressure the handsome stranger, since he’s holding up your line. “sir?” you repeat, finally garnering his attention after squirming under his intense stare. 

not that you mind being stared at by him, for this particular customer is right up your alley. 

from his milky skin, desperate to be marked, to his lengthy dark tresses that you’re dying to pull at and tug. his jaw is angular, sharp enough to the point where you fear you would cut yourself should you have the chance to touch it. despite the razor edges to his features, he looks kind…almost wistful, at most. a quality that does nothing to calm the hungry flame catching light in your lower tummy.

the two of you remain admiring one another until a customer in the queue clears their throat impatiently — causing both of you to jump. 

“s-sorry,” geto mumbles the apology quickly, his pale cheeks tinged with a subtle pink despite how hot they feel. he’s suddenly become all too aware of the line that he’s holding up. one that he’s not even supposed to be in, since he’d walked in here on instinct anyway. his dark, narrow eyes sweep the counter in search for something, anything to order so that he doesn’t look like a complete idiot in front of you or the rest of the customers. 

more specifically, yourself. 

“i would recommend the sakura mochi,” then, like an angel sent from the heavens, you try your luck in conversing with suguru in japanese. his nervous and skittish gaze shoots up to your face, shoulders sagging in relief and familiarity. you truly are like a piece of home. like his little sister. suguru likes that more than a normal man should. “they’re popular amongst our customers, it’s taken our owner years to perfect her recipe with the ingredients here. especially since leaving japan.” 

suguru grins and nods, spotting the dessert he’s so accustomed to buying in the display cabinet. his heart lurches, yearning for his little sister. “these?” he whispers to you, the syllables of his native language curling around his tongue naturally. “they look just like the ones from home.”

there’s a sparkle in your eyes when he responds, and you continue to speak to him in sugary tones. “they taste just as goodtoo, i promise!”

“then, i’ll take a box.” 

“how many? they come in boxes of four, eight and sixteen pieces.”

“just the four, please.” 

taking your tongs from the metal counter behind the cabinet, you fish out four of the best pieces of sakura mochi and tentatively place them into a pre-folded cardboard box for the handsome customer. as he dives deep into his pocket for his card to pay, you quickly add an extra piece — uttering something about it being on the house under your breath. 

the action leaves both of you bashful and suguru taps his card on the machine you’ve set up for him to pay. “ah, thank you…” suguru searches for your name in the candy scented air and you tap your badge with a cute acrylic nail to draw attention to your name which he breathes out in a husky tone, failing to mask its curious lilt as he returns to english.

“no worries, have a good evening, sir.” you giggle shyly, still managing to bid him farewell. 

on his way home, suguru can’t help but to replay the entire interaction in his head over and over again. in his brief three minutes of meeting you, you’d managed to fix the hole in his heart, help it beat properly again. you’re just like her, his little sister, and that is a dangerous fact. 

he reaches his apartment with a flushed face, feeling a little flustered, but a lot better than he was before the start of his walk. 

after work, a few days later, geto finds himself back in front of the bakery, working up the courage to go inside and see you.  

no matter how hard he tried and how much of his work he tried to throw himself into — suguru couldn’t get the vision of you out his head. your saccharine laugh haunted him as he reviewed case files, your timid smile chased him through his lunch break and your small act of kindness (speaking with him in Japanese) has him all worked up and blushing by the time he’s able to clock out for the day. 

the dark haired  man feels insane, he knows that this is weird — projecting the image of his adoptive sister onto you, but like a man on drugs he can’t seem to quit. he needs to get his fix. he needs to see you again. entering the bakery once again is like stepping into a new domain, and suguru damn near forgets his simple plan to talk to you. order sakura mochi, say thank you, and leave. while he waits in the queue, his courage mounts in slow stacks and anxiety fades, but by the time he’s up front and face to face with you again — suguru’s brain is completely wiped of every word he was going to say. 

“ah, it’s you again!” you greet him in japanese once more, instinctively reaching to brush your braids out of your face in order to look more presentable to the handsome stranger who’s been plaguing your thoughts as well. suguru thinks you’re cute, regardless of the rice flour smeared across your cheeks and the various mysterious (though surely tasty) stains that decorate your uniform. he even finds it endearing, the way that you share the same nervous gesture of playing with the ends of your braids like his little sister. “i was just wondering when you were going to come in from the… mmm, cold? you’ve been standing and… uh! staring from out there for a while.” you continue to tease the man warmly in his native tongue, choosing your words carefully and avoiding eye contact with him while you prep the tongs for his order. “what can i get for you today?”

so much for not humiliating himself in front of the pretty girl. “i’m sorry… i’ll just take some sakura mochi again,” suguru begins, this time in english to spare you the trouble of overthinking everything that you say. “i was trying to figure out how to do this,” he places a wad of cash on the counter while you prepare his order. your chocolatey eyes blow wide, sweet glazed lips parting softly at the mere sight. you’re sure there’s enough money in the stack to cover an entire week’s worth of your wages and if a stranger can just give away such a large amount… it makes you wonder what he’s even doing at a humble place like this. “it’s a tip from last time. i never got to thank you.” 

“oh… i was just doing my job!” you stammer out politely and prepare to reject the tip, but suguru refuses to let you refuse his gift — forcefully pushing the ‘tip’ over the edge of the glass. he really couldn’t help but to give the money to you, hardly fighting the urge to spoil you with cash like he would with his little sister. besides, the man earned more than enough to drop it on you without putting a dent in his pocket. 

“you did more than that… just the simple act of kindness in conversing with me, a stranger, in japanese. that was nice of you.” suguru counters. “thank you. how did you know?” 

you work on preparing a thin and white cardboard box for his order before walking along the dessert counter, followed by you. “i had a feeling, a lot of people come in here when they’re missing something,” he frowns and your eyes finally meet his. “someone.” you breathe out, quietly. “i took a guess, figured you might have been from japan.” 

“well, you were correct…” 

your heart skips a beat at the sound of your name on his tongue as he says it. it’s so gentle it makes you feel faint and you’re absolutely charmed by a man you hardly know. “does that earn me brownie points…?” you trail off, wanting to capture his name. 

“suguru.” 

“ah, suguru meaning…” giving the man a once over, you drink in his tall frame and dark eyes, the small quirk to his plush lips as he smiles at you… and think. he’s the perfect man in every way, soft spoken and clement, even if he did have flaws or a dark secret — you would definitely choose to ignore it in favour of spending more time with him. once you find the word you’re looking for (and snap out of staring at the poor guy) you speak again. “excellence…it suits you.” 

geto chuckles quietly in response, amused by your take away.  “your name suits you too, darling. it’s just as beautiful as you.” 

when you giggle and grow shy at his compliment — the honeyed melody only serves to remind suguru of his little sister once more. in that moment, he feels something bad and almost wretched stir in his gut just from watching you turn bashful over him. a dark thought in the back of his kind tells him to keep you, so that he can see you like this more often. it urges him to make you need him. like he would have with his little sister. 

he’s starting to project, he’s sure, but you make it easy for him, with your puppy dog eyes and tiny little smiles. once geto’s order is packed, four little squares of sakura mochi wrapped in emerald green and brined sakura leaf — smelling of spring and red bean, he pays (with a hefty tip) and inspects the box. “you’ve got to stop giving me things for free, darling. we’ve only just met.” he chides fondly, scolding you like a child as if to make sure you won’t get in trouble with your job. he’s counted five mochi instead of four — just like last time. “won’t this hurt business?” he coos down at you — sending your body into a fit of shivers despite the warmth of your uniform. 

“well, i’d consider us friends now that you’ve come specifically to see me. friends can’t give each other gifts?” you quip cheekily — much like suguru’s sister would. “you got to spoil me today, no one is going to notice an extra piece of mochi going missing.” 

“friends it is,” surugu purrs right back in satisfaction, preparing to take his leave. cautiously, as though not to spook you like a hunter after a deer in the woods — he reaches over the counter to pat your head affectionately, internally pleased with the way you keen into his touch. “i hope to see my new friend around more often, then.” he hums with pride, and you nod your head eagerly. 

like a puppy. like you want to please him. 

it reminds geto all too much of his little sister — who only ever wanted to make the dark haired man proud. 

over the coming weeks, suguru finds himself at the bakery more often than not. as though it’s a part of his daily routine. 

he’ll take his walk after work, stop by and purchase some sakura mochi, before leaving you with another little gift. at first, his gifts started out as wads of cash in place of tips, then slowly turned to more materialistic things, items that you could hood or wear as if they were to geto’s his claim on you. like flowers, jewellery or clothes. things you couldn’t afford on your own, things he’d like to see you in, things his little sister would like to receive if they were still in contact with one another. 

suguru knows that you can’t afford these things because you’ve let it slip over coffee and mochi that you rent the apartment above the bakery from the old woman who owns it and can barely afford the new york rent as well. he also learns that you were hired because of your ability to speak, read and write in Japanese. 

as much as suguru has spoiled you in the last few weeks, you won’t let him pay your rent though, so tips have sufficed for now. 

nowadays, the time spent moping around his apartment while mourning the relationships that he lost are spent growing increasingly obsessive over you. hours upon hours are wasted on thoughts of what gift he might buy you next — like more comfortable work shoes, an umbrella to get you home safe during the rain that just so happens to be designer. suguru spoils you under the guise of just being your friend — at least that’s what it is to you. 

to him, he’s spoiling his baby sister. someone who is feeble and needs his help and his protection. he doesn’t tell his therapist any of this, of course, she would deem it unhealthy to see how much of his money and time he’s blown in a little cafe worker.  

a cafe worker who’s important to suguru, who haunts his dreams with her perfect curves, and pouty lips whenever he brings you a small gift of his affections. “sugu,” you’ve resorted to calling him, just like his sister would. the nickname was the result of a time where you’d written his name on a coffee order, and customers complained you were taking too long. so geto had told you that you could call him ‘sugu’ instead. however, he would omit details on how badly it affected his brain chemistry …to hear someone he cared for call him that again. “you don’t have to get me an expensive gift just because i make you coffee and get you sweet treats.” 

“it’s not just because you get me sweet things or make me coffee,” he had responded, leaning over the counter flirtatiously. “it’s because you do such a good job. you take care of me and my order every evening. make sure i get the best of the best. how could i not thank my sweet little barista.” 

you wouldn’t say it, but he knew you liked the praise. he wondered if you felt as dirty and as thrilled as him during these little exchanges between the two of you. on that specific occasion, geto decided to gift you with a pendant, similar to the one he’d gotten his sister — only this time, a purple amethyst sits in its centre rather than the blue gem all too familiar to satoru gojo’s piercing eyes.

maybe this is what his therapist meant by healing. suguru is healing by getting over his sister and replacing her with you. 

you are the one that haunts his dreams now, makes his cock stir inappropriately. another thing that suguru woulda never tell his therapist — is that sometimes when he really needed it, he would think of his little sister while fisting his cock into the night air. they weren’t really related, only by adoption so it wasn’t too wrong. sometimes he’d think of her getting railed by satoru, but nowadays he would think of you on his cock instead, calling out for suguru like you need him to function. 

‘nii-san!’ - this and ‘please sugu! ’- that, each word uttered in his sister’s voice would quickly morph into yours — the quivering sweet sound always resembling his little sister’s when she cried. suguru, the dark haired  man, imagined you would react the same. and more often than not, it was your face that he pictured when he was about to cum. 

every single gift suguru got for you were the result of him dreaming about how much he needed you, someone to spoil and protect. someone to need him. 

tonight, suguru is a little late for his daily visit to your bakery. 

tonight, an important case at his firm had rolled in at the last minute and required attention before a preliminary hearing — but even his job couldn’t keep suguru geto away from you. when he arrives at the bakery, you’re still there, having left the doors unlocked for him to come inside. 

tonight, there is no long line of customers out the door to build up the anticipation between you both, the lights have already been deemed and there’s not a trace of life inside of the bakery. aside from yourself, of course.

tonight, you’re on the closing shift instead of the owner’s grandson, choso. who you reassured suguru you weren’t interested in the first time they’d met. with gentle eyes that masked the dark haired  man’s fury, geto had told you that he was the only man you’d ever need and you believed him — suguru had a charm for making people dependent on him. 

the tiny silver bell stationed at the door jingles and signals geto’s arrival, but you hardly look up from your work — keeping your back to him while you sweep at nothing. you’re hiding the excitement that prickles down your spine, you’ve been waiting to get the man alone for weeks and now that you’re able to… you can hardly contain yourself. 

“excuse me, uh…” he says your name so sweetly, as though the words on his tongue are laced with honey. pretending not to know you only makes tonight more thrilling. “are you open? do you have any sakura mochi to spare?” it’s only then that you whirl around to face suguru, your deep brown eyes still bright despite the dimness of the empty bakery — they sparkle with elation, and the plump curve of your lips spike up into an easy smile. you’ve been waiting, suguru notes, like a good little girl.

like a puppy waiting for her owner. 

you’ve been waiting to see him. 

anticipation claws at the air, sending ripples of kinetic energy into the space between you both — where suguru waits at the door and you stand front and centre in the middle of the room. his murky eyes slink down to your neck where one hand fiddles with the silver chain of your pendant, your nails tapping at the amethyst in its centre. in the same way his sister does when she’s nervous. 

neither of you know what’s going to happen tonight, now that you’re finally alone. 

“we have some in the back,” you swallow down the heartbeat in your throat you nod shyly when you finally speak. it’s weird how your body has started to react to suguru after weeks of getting to know him, being spoiled by him. the clothes you wear are now covered in traces of him, the jewellery you own is paid for by his dime. this…stranger, who you hardly know yet feel like you know everything about, has invaded every inch of your life… and you’re not even mad about it. you’d rather die than let this go. “i just need to lock up first. if you’ll give me a moment.”

you approach him cautiously, practically pressing your breasts against his chest as you reach behind the man to lock the doors he stands in front of. suguru can already tell that the mood today is different — full of hunger and expectations for something less polite than evening chatter and gift exchanges. his dark eyes follow your every move across the bakery like a wolf tracking the scent of prey. 

“why don’t you come with me to the back? and if you don’t mind, could you carry a bag or two of that rice flour? it’s too heavy for me on my own?” you ask him after backing away with a glint in your eye. naughty, naughty. geto likes the fact that you’re asking him, that you need him and he can be your strong suguru. 

“sure, anything for you.” he agrees a little bit too quickly, removing his work jacket and rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt. suguru discards his tie as well — before lifting a sack of rice flower with ease. he pretends not to notice the way you ogle the bulge in his biceps as he does so.

“thanks.” you utter, leading the way to the back of the bakery. 

once the two of you arrive in the kitchens at the back, you give suguru some time to set down the sacks of flour and retreat to the many shelves of sweet treats and baked goods that you’d prepared for your shift the next day. you’re sure choso, nor his grandmother, would mind if you stole a plate of mochi for the two of you to share. they trusted you enough, but you decide to forgo telling them for now. 

“i was starting to think you weren’t coming.” you say as you set the desserts out on the metal table for him, suguru hates the guilt that he feels for leaving you for so long. “seeing you is the highlight of my week.” 

“are you sure it’s not the gifts that i give you?” he teases, rounding the table to take a piece of mochi from the plate at its middle. he practically moans at the flavours of cherry blossom and crystallised sugar bursting across the palette of his tongue. and for a moment, his mind slips to other territories — wandering what you’d taste like as well. 

“n-no! sugu!” for the first time that night, you break character, bashfully tucking your pretty face into your shoulder as if to hide it. “i, um… i genuinely like seeing you and when you come to see me. i-it makes me feel better. being around you. i feel safer and happier.” 

putting his weight onto the metal surface, suguru leans forward and cocks his head to the side in faux curiosity. your answer is just what he wanted to hear. he finally has you where he wants you,  like a sweet deer in a hunter’s trap. “is that so, darling?” you shake your head yes in affirmation. “well then, you’re awfully sweet.” geto takes to praising you, licking the traces of candy from his lips and maintaining eye contact while his hand dips into the pocket of his slacks for something. “i have a gift for you, little one.” 

“oh yeah?” youtoo, take a bite out of the treats you’ve laid out, munching on them casually while keeping suguru under your watchful eye.

it’s only then that pulls out a matching item of jewellery, this time, a matching anklet to the item that sits heavy at your neck. the silver chain is dotted with tinier, purple gems. a showcase of suguru’s appreciation for how much you’ve healed him — a nod to how much better he feels around you too. 

“you sure do love purple for me, sugu.” you joke, laughing incredulously at the expensive gift. “it’s beautiful, thank you.” you let him circle the table to take hold of your soft hips, lifting you onto the cool surface so that geto has some leverage to put the anklet on you. 

after kicking out your left foot — suguru sinks to his knees before you, and something about the way he looks up at you, with his eyebrows drawn to the centre of his forehead and his milky cheeks slightly flushed, has your heart racing and your head all dizzy. “purple is supposed to mean healing. i’ve had a tough time, being away from japan and my family…” he begins quietly, his voice is calming with lilts and drops of hunger that slips through the cracks of suguru’s caring resolve. “but you’ve made it better,” one of his large hands encircles your ankle, lifting your foot higher so that geto is easily able to remove the strap of your mary-jane shoe and replace it with the chains of your new anklet. “ah… a perfect fit.” he announces in japanese, fixing the clasp. 

the whole ordeal is intimate, inviting and you feel like you might slip under the surface of dark, dangerous waters if you’re not careful. you don’t know how to swim, but something tells you that suguru will keep you afloat. “anyways, little one…” suguru continues with his monologue, whispering his words against your talus bone at the base of your leg, where it meets your foot. “you wanting me here and needing me… it heals me.” 

once he’s checked that the anklet is secure, suguru reaches a hand upwards, and brushes a thumb over the swell of your glossy bottom lip to swipe away a smudge of powdered sugar from the mocha. you will yourself to speak, but you feel as though you can’t even breathe. “i’ve…healed you?” 

suguru stands up, towering over you now as he moves to suck the sugar from your lips off of his thumb. “of course, little one. what else do you think you’ve been doing this whole time?” his pupils dilate, obsidian black drowning out any other colour in his eyes while closes the gap between your heated bodies. your thighs instinctively jump apart to make room for him too, allowing him to loom over you even better — following the biological call of your hearts.

the world comes to a standstill when suguru’s lips finally meet yours in a sloppy yet coordinated kiss. while his movements are messy and hungry he remains gentle with you, as though you might break from too much force. the sweltering heat of his tongue swipes eagerly but not aggressively over the seam of your mouth, dying to be let in and taste the sugar that glazes your own pink muscle. his large, unusually soft hands grasp, and squeeze and pinch at your thighs, then the fat at your hips until his thumbs are tucked under your breasts, soothing circles over the point at which the fleshy mounds join up with your rib cage. 

goosebumps break out across your skin from underneath your clothes and you feed suguru a needy little squeak when he finally breaks into your mouth, his tongue lapping circles at every crevice. you sound just like her, his angelic little sister, and he treats you so gently because he would never want to hurt her. suguru has always wanted to kiss his sister, but you’ll have to do. he likes you just as much as her. 

it’s that sick and twisted desire to devour his younger sibling that fuels his next movements, along with the dulcet and darling sounds you make for him. carefully and between sticky lip locks, suguru pushes you onto your back — humming in amusement when it arches away from the cool metal of the silver counter. “s-sugu,” you whimper wetly, catching your breath while his smooches cascade down to your neck and his fingers work their way through the buttons on your uniform. your own take residence in his firm and broad set shoulders, as if to steady yourself. “i haven’t… i don’t have much experience with these things a-and they’ve not been the best—“

the dark haired  man chuckles softly, the sound sending a spark of lust down your spine and causing you to arch up into him as he cages you against the table. “i’ll be gentle,” he tells you firmly, in a tone that smooths over the doubts in your mind and helps you to relax. suguru will take care of everything. “you don’t have to worry. i want this to be all about you feeling good, okay?” you nod in reply and suguru sucks his teeth. “i want a verbal answer, little one.”

“yes, sugu…”

he places a chaste kiss to your collarbones then, a pleased hum vibrating against your temperate skin. “good girl.” 

the next few moments are a blur as suguru geto strips you down, kissing every inch of your exposed body with each article of clothing he removes from your shaky frame. all that he leaves you with are your soiled panties after reaching around the curve of your spine to unclip your bra with one hand.  it’s all so nerve wracking and invigorating all at once, you can’t help but wrap your legs around his waist and pull him in for more.

between the chaos and rustling of his own clothes coming off, suguru presses two digits to your budding clit and your world tilts on its axis — he’s hardly touching you and yet you feel so good, especially when he rolls the swollen little nub between a thumb and forefinger. your nails form crescent moons against his shoulder in response.

you’re so overwhelmed by the patterns he traces over your clit, his name, his promises to you and your body, as well as the blood rushing to it — that you hardly notice geto’s descent on your body, the hot trail of kisses he leaves between the valley of your breasts and over your soft tummy. you just about manage to feel him over the haze in your brain when his lips hit the scalloped edge of your panties, and you jolt when the tip of his tongue forcefully traces the outline of your un-used, soaked hole from over the gusset of said garment. 

the fabric darkens as your juices pool against it, mixed with the wetness of suguru’s tongue.

“will you let me pleasure you, little one?” 

it’s not like you can say no (not that you want to), especially with the way geto manoeuvres your thighs to hang over the backs of his strong shoulders as he settles between your trembling legs. while he waits for your reply, he takes your wrist into his grasp and pulls one of your silk scrunchies from it — using it to tie back his luscious black hair. 

you look down at him through your lashes with a painted expression of want and worry. 

suguru pushes the pads of his thumbs into the globes of your ass against the cold table — massaging the flesh with mischievous eyes as your pussy gushes and leaks a fresh wave of nectar right down to the puckered ring between your ass cheeks. “just tying my hair back as a precaution,” he whispers, voice lowering an octave as his face slowly nears your clenching cunt. “i’m a messy eater…”

“a-ah! sugu!”

at first, suguru delivers a single lick to your awaiting pussy, drawing a stripe with his tongue between the length of your fat and sluice folds. then, when you cry out his name he can’t help but to latch his heated mouth onto your unattended sex, chuckling at the realisation of just how good you taste. it’s a natural flavour, with a twinge of sweetness suguru could have only hoped to imagine. he’s been waiting for this moment and to have you like this for weeks — to replace his prior daydreams of fucking his baby sister with you…and now he finally has the material to do so. 

a sinful giddiness infiltrates geto’s bloodstream as he kitten licks at your pulsating mound — feeding in your arousal as it grows before inhaling deeply, nastily taking in your scent so that he can commit it to memory. “how does that feel?” he coos his words out as he hungrily nips at your sopping folds, rolling them raw between rows of perfect white teeth until you’re choking on a breath and your face scrunches adorably. “is that nice, love?” 

a wet whimper lies on your kiss-swollen lips, and your hips naturally buck up to follow the warm trace of suguru’s mouth encompassing your sex. “f-feels so good! b-better than i… could have imagined,” you struggle to get out, gargling on each syllable while your chest heaves and arches away from the chilly table — giving suguru the perfect view of your bouncing breasts and only motivating him to pleasure you more. “f-fuck!” 

if you were his baby sister, suguru isn’t so sure that you’d curse in front of him. she wouldn’t, she was too docile and sweet to utter a bad thing in his presence. but you, you’re both of those things and more — you lose yourself easily to the ecstasy in your veins; liquid pleasure spewing from your blistering hot cunt like a free-flowing river, painting suguru’s high cheekbones with your body’s riches. he feels blessed to be between your thighs, defiling the blossoming flower of your cunt with his eager mouth. 

“you’re so…you’re so pretty when you gush like this for me. i want you to give me more.” his tongue darts along the length of your weeping slit, catching what you leak before it can go to waste on the icy table beneath your hot skin. drunk on your taste, suguru forces his flexible tongue past the tightness of your fluttering entrance. “can you do that for me?” he mouths, though whatever he says is slurred as he slowly begins to tongue fuck you. 

“a-anything,” you say, breathing shallow and eyes beginning to grow teary. suguru’s tongue slips in and out of your creaming hole with rhythm, preparing you, using a pseudo sensation, for his fat cock. “anything for you! i wanna feel good for you. wanna please you!” he languidly strokes at your ribbed insides as a reward, chasing your honey nectar taste while your hips canter up and chase bud hismouth. 

suguru intends to destroy you, own you and unleash all of his darkest fantasies onto you. he’s dreamed of ruining his adoptive little sister, making her cum all over him — it just so happens that you look and sound like her, you match every single one of his dreams about her, you make them all a reality. it’s only right that he pleases you and makes you see stars for needing him and relying on him so well. 

he wonders if his sister would cry like you do, or if she would try to stave off her orgasm like you do. would she scream his name over the saliva pooling on her tongue like you do. eyes in the shade of deep, chocolate brown start to flutter shut at the sound of your desperate pleas as you writhe under suguru’s attention of your swollen pussy. your back sticks to the table and your thighs shake either side of suguru’s head, but he doesn’t relent on sucking the juices that cling to your pussy lips until all he can breathe is you. 

his tongue twists happily against your lush walls, grasping at the essence that lines them. 

“you’re doing well for me, little one, so well…” he praises you, knowing how close you’re getting. it’s in the way your body twitches with every suck to your hardened clit and the way you try to push him off of you. you need it so bad, you need him to make you cum. suguru thrusts deeper, harder and faster using his tongue — catching what dribbles from your tiny hole after it slips between your ass cheeks and pools in a puddle on the table. “i want to taste it. if you’ll cum for me, that’ll make me happy. so let me…”

suguru can’t even finish, dizzy on the taste of you like the buzz of a high. he could spend an infinite number of days between your legs. no matter how sore his knees get from kneeling between them — all he wants to do is slurp down everything that you give him, focus on making you reach pleasure of only heavenly limits in order to evade the guilt he feels. the one that causes knots to twist in geto’s stomach. 

how could he do this? 

how could he want this? 

to fuck someone so reminiscent of his little sister. 

to manipulate them into fucking him? 

suguru’s name is hot on your lips, spiralling into the husky evening air. “come on, little one. cum for me,” meanwhile, his breath on your cunt makes your hips wiggle and hole spasm — a new wave of juices staining his face. it’s scent and taste coax the man into diving back into your sopping heat, the point of his nose bumping against your pleasure nub as if peeks out from beneath its hood. 

“m-mph… m’kay,” comes your hushed whisper as you thread your fingers through the black roots of geto’s hair, keeping him pinned to your precious creamy core as you rut against his agile tongue. “f-feels funny!” you gasp and warble, filling the man’s mouth with your raw folds and liquid lust.

“hm?” geto hums lazily in acknowledgment, licking up to your clit so that he can replace his tongue with two digits. he works at your dripping hole, stretching it over them through the haze in his mind. he swoons at the thought of replacing those same digits with his cock next — they speed up with excitement, squelching and echoing throughout the room, overlapping with your high pitched breathy moans. 

with your heart rattling against your ribcage, you can hardly fight off the urge building within your lower belly — your hips are frantic as they chase after the feeling and the burning high that crackles across your neurons. geto groans wickedly, feeling your sex spasm against his soaked lips and clench down hard on his fingers. it’s not long before he feels you succumb to your first orgasm. it washes over him in heavenly waves — clearing away his guilt and desire for his little sister while simultaneously drowning you under sinful pretences.

your entire body is racked with the case of the shakes, your eyes shooting back into the dark depths of your skull while white noise fills your ears and overlays the sound of suguru lewdly slurping at your release. speaking off, clear streams of your arousal spurt from your quivering cunt…and for the first time ever, you squirt. everywhere, all over the place, making such a mess that suguru is left gargling over everything that you give him and there’s a crude splatter as your juices hit the floor. 

he doesn’t stop, however, licking you clean with his fingers continuing to curl languidly against your g-spot — over and over again. 

“sugu p-please! s’too much,” you plead in the form of a heavy sob — but only god knows that you don’t want the man to stop. 

“just one more for me?” he asks you tentatively, releasing your throbbing clit with a wet pop. suguru stands and you look up at him — noting the way his bangs stick to his cheeks from how wet you’ve gotten him. he doesn’t stop pumping his fingers in and out of you either, dragging the tips of them along your overstimulated and stretched walls. “you can do it, and if you can i’ll reward you. how does that sound, little one?” he slows his pace just enough to only have the seat of his palm salaciously grind against your clit, not wanting to hurt you. 

he wouldn’t want to hurt his adoptive sister if he ever had the chance to get her spread open like this. 

your face is stained with mascara, your brown eyes big and wobbly and your braids are askew — but still, you’re the most adorable thing he’s ever seen, next to her. your fingers threaten to snap shut around his wrist, but with his free hand he forces the wet and doughy flesh back open, and with a few more thrusts if his fingers, nice and tantalisingly slow, you’re cumming again in another cute, clear stream — dowsing suguru’s hand in another wash of your cum. 

leaning down, suguru’s lips tainted with your arousal lean down to meet your own — capturing them in a sweet kiss to help bring you back down to earth. “what’s your colour, darling? red for bad, yellow for okay and green for good. how do you feel?” 

“g-green,” you mumble, keening into his touch and craving his affection. “i feel fine, my legs won’t stop shaking. i’ve never cum like that before…” 

pride blooms like a wildflower in suguru’s chest. 

“well, i don’t intend on stopping, little one,” brushing your braids back into place, suguru carefully pulls his fingers out of your stretched hole and swiftly sucks them clean. “your pretty pussy is so tiny, must not have been used properly,” the vulgarity of his words have you arching for more from suguru, and you’re lucky that he’s not done with you yet. “don’t worry, love. i’ll fix that.” 

you’re weak in the knees when suguru manhandles you from the table onto the floor, making sure that you’re comfortable on your tummy — he even goes as far to nestle a bag of rice flour under your hips. you pretend not to notice the way his strength makes you flutter around nothing, smearing your juices onto the bakery floor.

“i’ve been holding back quite a bit,” he murmurs against your naked shoulder blades — the dark tresses of his hair tickling your skin. “so i might not last long.” you hear a belt clink before suguru kicks his slacks off and away, rewarding your patience with a kiss against your spine. “i hope it’s okay if i just give you my all.” 

from this position, it’s easy for suguru to picture his younger, adopted sister instead of you — he’s dreamed of having her present for him like this countless times, but it doesn’t compare to the way it feels having your hot body underneath him like this. your ass is so soft and pliant in his hands as he drags your hips up a little higher. another hand grasps at the hardness of his cock that’s been dripping and aching ever since geto first got his mouth on you. 

with stuttering hips, he positions himself at your needy entrance, chuckling in approval when you attempt to wiggle back on him — just as hungry for this as your lover is. both of you hiss as his veiny shaft comes into contact with your sticky folds, suguru using the remnants of your orgasms to slick himself up again and make it easier for you take all of him. you can’t see him, but the dark haired man’s cheeks are tinged pink with pure desire — his gaze turning woozy as he looks from your gaping hole to his cockhead, tapping it against your souse entrance a few times for good measure. 

fuck a condom, he thinks, if given the opportunity — he would have fucked his sister rawtoo. 

“whatever you give me, i-it’ll be enough for me, sugu,” you sniff, fisting the floor in anticipation — laying your hot, tear streaked cheek against its cool surface. “t-thank you for treating me so well.” 

“i promise,” geto heaves, words a little too rushed and eager. “i’ll make you feel so good, so fucking…h-hah—“ without warning, he thrusts all the way inside of you with his hips driving all the way forward until his pelvis is flush against the curve of your ass. geto is chubbier than you thought he would be, and just the right length — plugging you full. every vein wrapped around his shaft presses up against your most sensitive pleasure spots, and he’s weighty against your gummy unused walls. 

suguru’s breath prickles at shell of your ears as he collapses on top of you, all of his weight keeping you pinned to the cold hard floor. “can i move?” he lets out a wavering gasp, fighting the instinct to fuck down into you. your cunt ripples around him deliciously, the heat from your body making him drowsy. “you need to be fucked, little one. need someone to stretch out your tight pussy… i can do that for you. if you let me…”

he hates the part of his brain that wonders if his baby sister was this tight when gojo fucked her. 

“i want you to,” you slur gently, purposely squeezing down on the base of suguru’s cock and practically creaming around it. you wriggle back on him until he’s completely bottomed out inside of you — balls deep while you ooze against his pelvis and heavy balls. “need you to fuck me…”

that’s all it takes for your stranger turned lover to give his all to you. he drops his sweaty chest to your back, pulling his chubby cock from the snugness of your heat as his teeth take purchase in your shoulders — leaving a litter of love bites your uniform will barely cover once the night is over. suguru is possessive of his belongings, like you and his little sister — the bites are his claim on you. 

in one powerful move, you’re full to the brim with rock hard cock — deep in your guts, churning them up and spreading lust like a wildfire through your weak body. you feel dwarfed underneath him. despite being pinned to the floor, you still manage to rock your hips back against suguru and suck more of him into your cute, quivering cunt. it just about helps him set a steady stream to his meaningful thrusts.

wet slapping sounds echo throughout the back room of the bakery, accompanied by your meek mewls and gasps for air the faster suguru pounds into your warmth. fat droplets of precum smear along your soaked and ripe insides, ready to be bred by suguru. ready to be marked by him. you feel like you belong to him like a treasured pet and you don’t even mind it. your pussy blossoms for him like that of a japanese cherry blossom in the spring time — or iris flowers, shobu, in their iconic shade of purple. like the bruises he’s left on your back. 

oh, you’re just perfect for suguru. you fulfil all of his sister-fucking fantasies, even your moans sound like hers when she would get off in her room — thinking no one could hear her. he loves this, he might even love you — the way you feel wrapped around him, reaching for the stars in your eyes. it feels like you’re made for him, with the way you clamp down on his oozing mushroomed tip and squirm about underneath him.

your pussy barely lets go of geto when he draws his hips back, but every time he fucks down into him — your fluttering hole stretches to accommodate his creamy thickness. it creates the perfect pathway for the dark haired man to bully your g-spot in a way that makes you scream for more. “you’re perfect for me…fuck, you’re so perfect,” suguru intimately whispers into your skin from behind, his hands smoothing over yours as you claw at the floor to ground yourself from the overwhelming ecstasy. he thinks he understands why satoru had fucked his sister now — there’s something so satisfying about corrupting someone. taking their innocence with your dick. “should i keep you like this? on my aching cock forever?” 

“y-yes please!” you squeal, succumbing to your body’s biological will, cunt spitting droplets of arousal all over suguru. he’s barely able to pull out of you, his dick on lockdown inside of your core. there’s hardly any space between you both any more, the air vibrating with electrifying lust and the scent of sex. 

you coo and cry out for your newfound lover, your ass and the backs of your thighs burning from how hard his skin slaps against your own. you hardly care about the pain for its overlapped with ecstasy like sea water on a sandy shore. “you’re such a good…good fucking girl for me. for your big brother,” suguru loses track of his words, his mind lagging behind his mouth and his hips that relentlessly pound you into the ground. over the sound of sex you think that you’ve misheard him, but then his voice rises an octave and in volume as he continues to moan out your praises — succumbing to your gratifying and ichorous cunt latching onto the veins spiralling around his dick. “oh my precious little sister… taking me so fucking well—!”

in that moment, all of the guilt suguru has ever felt for leaving his sister, for ruining her relationship and fleeing to new york, for thinking of her while fucking you… it all comes rushing back. he stops thrusting, freezing in place above you while his cock twitches along your insides. 

“f-fuck i—“ he starts to apologise, but the cry you let out stops him. 

“nii-san,” you whine petulantly, fat tears gathering in your lash line. “d-don’t stop! please keep fucking me, fuck me harder. make me cum, make me scream, make me—!” your words are cut off by suguru’s fingers wrapping around your delicate neck from behind, giving it a gentle squeeze. he resumes his thrusts, a little harsher and more carelessly coordinated than before, once he realises that maybe you’re just as sick and twisted as him. calling him big brother while he uses you for a dirty fuck in place of his younger adopted sibling… 

you like this just as much as he does.

suguru knows you’re perfect, perhaps even more so than his little sister. he uses his grip on your throat to tug your head back while he fucks you silly, slotting his mouth against yours in a salacious and sinful kiss. “onii-san, hm?” he forces his tongue over yours, moaning into your mouth pathetically as he reverts back to his mother-tongue. “you want your onii-san to fuck you, imouto? make you cum again?”

“please, please, please onii-san! g-gotta cum f’you…g’na cum. c-close!” comes your brainless babble while you fall into a cockdrunk state. 

“you beg so pretty for your big brother, sweet little thing. i should fill you up, breed this greedy little cunt for all its worth, right?” suguru’s mind grows as foggy as yours, copious amounts of his precum pouring into you and dripping down your swollen slit. it’s a mess, everything is disgustingly messy — this situation, the fact that you’re so eagerly calling him your big brother, the fact that he’s fucking you because you remind him of his sibling. but neither of you give a shit, not when you feel so fucking good you swear you’re seeing the pearly gates. 

“g-god! please sugu, please nii-san, i need it. need you!” the slow roll of your hips contrasts with geto’s ever increasing slap of skin on skin, your mix of arousals crudely seeping down his balls and to the floor below. the point at which your bodies join starts to forth as well. 

“is that so…?” suguru hums attentively, grinning ear to ear at how you play into this immoral dynamic. it fuels the fire of lust burning through him, setting his lungs alight and ruining his chances at breathing. his thrusts become erratic, his cockhead married to your g-spot, and he finds himself growing more and more excited about the sight of his cum leaking from your ravaged hole. “you must really like it when your big brother fucks you — hm, lillith baby? do you like how deep i can get, deep in your tummy?” he continues to ramble, grabbing your ass cheeks to peel them apart — letting out a deep and wild gripe from his chest at the sight of strings of your clear arousal glueing the fleshy globes together. “love how you throw it back on me. keep coating your nii-san’s cock in your pretty juices. gush for me, make me shine with your cum.” 

you nod and do as geto says, simpering out for even more while you work yourself back on his swelling girth as it shines with milky white. you can no longer keep up with what’s happening, your brain actually lags at the way your faux big brother coos your name while your sexes sing a lewd song of pap, pap, pap. lust courses through your veins and burns at your nerve endings, you should feel disgusted with yourself but nothing makes sense. you feel like you’re high, and you don’t want to come back down. at this point, all you can do is lay down and take it, clenching around suguru’s hard cock where it counts — pulling more precum from his heavy breeder’s balls. 

“nii-san…more, ‘m right there—“ you sob, reaching back with bambi eyes that plead for another kiss. you allow suguru to fuck you at his own free will, too weak to keep up.

“right here, imouto? against this sweet spot, baby sis?” you get a little tighter every time he calls you his little sister, creaming around his base and crying out his name as if it’s a fucking prayer. “you want me to breed you that bad, baby sis? want my cum deep in your little sister cunt?” 

you beg for it through tears and suguru makes you cum again just like he promised. your third orgasm of the night renders you completely useless, a silent scream tearing in your throat while you seizes up and trap suguru deep inside of your fluttering cunt. it’s so fucking cute to him, how much you gush when you orgasm, like a rushing river that never stops flowing. it’s almost as if the flood gates have opened up or heaven has rained down on geto’s fat cock. 

that’s all he needs for his own orgasm to be triggered, he collapses on top of you from behind as he empties his balls inside of your womb with a shout of your name. “‘m sorry little one, ‘m sorry… so fucking sorry.” he says hoarsely, cock pulsing while a wave of his cream lines your pussy from the inside — he doesn’t ever let up, fucking you through it all until both of your sexes are raw and abused beyond repair. “i love you, baby sis… imouto. s-shit, i love you so much.” your hole burns by the time suguru comes down, and you swear he feels bigger now that his dick is swollen with his orgasm. 

suguru is still cumming in spurts when he pulls out of you with a hiss, painting your puffy folds white, the rest leaking out of your entrance. “im so sorry… I have no idea where that came from…” he starts to apologise tiredly. “that was…”

you remain silent for a moment, mulling over what to say next as suguru rolls off of you, and lays by your side quietly. you flip onto your back, staring up at the artificial lights hanging from the ceiling. you liked this, whatever the hell it was… even if it meant he was fucking you to fuck his unresolved feelings out for his sister. 

“amazing… yeah.” is the response that you settle on. 

“that’s…that’s not what i meant.” 

“and i know that! you don’t have to apologise,” you cut him off abruptly, keeping your voice softly. “i liked it, whatever weird kink this is, it made me feel good.” 

geto flushes hot all over, sheepishly running a hand through his sweaty black locks. “my sister… she’s not seriously my blood sister. she’s adopted and—“ he’s so sheepish and right after ruining you beyond belief that it makes you laugh in pure amusement. “a-and i like you! quite a bit. i know this was… strange… but with your permission. i’d like to keep seeing you.”

“and fucking me?” you tease, tucking yourself into the man’s side while nuzzling your face into his neck. he smells like you, he smells like sex…but you’re satisfied.

his arm loosely wraps around your waist, thumbing over any bruises he might have left there. “that too.” 

“what about the gifts?” 

“those won’t stop either.” 

finally, you sit up, looming over geto as you tuck your braids behind your ear and out of your face. cupping suguru’s jaw, you lean over him and place a somewhat upside down kiss to the man’s lips — then brush over their cherry red bruising. “then you have yourself a deal — now please help me clean up, sugu. i don’t want to get fired.” 

it’s his turn to laugh next. “i’ll just take care of all your expenses if you do.” 

you roll your eyes.

this new dynamic, this new fling…it’s unhealthy, yeah. but as long as suguru has someone like you to look out for and need him. he thinks he’ll be okay. 

getting over his sister was the key to healing. just like his purple nailed therapist had said — so focusing on you was healing him. before either of you can move to help clean up, suguru reaches up slowly and cups your neck tenderly. he brings you down to his level, his fingers wrapping around the silver chain swinging loosely from your neck before pressing a kiss to the amethyst pendant there.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[okimnerdy]

Trolls Headcannons

(BROZONE Edition)

[Hi yes. Welcome to another fixation.]

•The brothers got out of the troll tree BEFORE it got caged in by the Bergens. They only heard about the outer trolls being hunted, but never thought it would make it to the main settlement. All of them believed that Branch and Grandma were still alive.

•The brothers knew of other genres of music, even dabbling into a few of them. JD and Clay enjoyed techno and funk. Bruce enjoyed classical. Floyd enjoyed rock. No one really fancied country music.

John Dory

°JD felt like the group had to be perfect and loved due to their parents. Their parents (before they got "chosen" or before leaving after the last kid was born) had a wish-wash way of parenting, only giving positive attention when the boys did something of merit.

°JD acted more like a parent than a brother, assigning roles he felt fit his brothers in order to give them a better foothold in their life and career in the group. He blamed himself if they didn't seem to succeed.

° JD hasn't truly showered in like 10 years. Man is a "water's clean" kind of guy, and was promptly held down by his brothers for a cleaning. Rhonda helped by essentially being a pressure washer.

°JD found Rhonda as a baby pill bug and didn't expect her to get so big. He felt a little bad decorating her once she was big enough to house him, fearing that he was hurting her.

Bruce

°Bruce let go of his ripped image because of Brandi's cooking. This man fell in love with her food THEN her. He felt at ease with her, especially since she didn't know Brozone.

°Bruce grew his hair out for his little girl to play with since her brothers won't. He lets her put little braids and clips in from time to time, and he wears them proudly.

Clay

°Clay tried to go back for Branch during the escape, but got caught in a wave of escaping trolls. After seeing the collapsed tunnels, he believed that his family got out safely even though he never truly knew for nearly 20 years.

°Clay made it to other Troll settlements and became a CPA after leaving Brozone and before he attempted to go back.

°Clay bonded with Viva over the loss of family due to the split™. He would share all these stories about Branch and she would try to do the same for Poppy, even though she was barely a year old when they got separated.

°Clay's little admin hut actually is bigger on the inside. He dug out a little living space underneath to hold his bed, desk, and a small kitchenette. Its like his own little bunker.

Floyd

°Floyd did a self-discovery journey through the other genres. He hung around the rock and country trolls the longest due to them being more land-based tribes, even though country trolls don't particularly like visitors.

°Floyd made a name for himself in the indie scene, eventually making his way to Mount Rageous where he had a new contract in the works. He had hoped this small push would bring his family back.

°Floyd suffers from muscle spasms and PTSD after his time in the bottle. Branch was kind enough to help develop a wheelchair and other mobility aids for him to use in the jungle gym called Pop Village.

°Floyd experiences fatigue easier. One of the brothers is always ready to be a pillow or a helping hand when he needs to rest. Poppy goes to him when she wants to know what else the village can do for others like him.

Branch

°Branch's muted color is due to his many years in the gray. He still feels the effects of the fight™ and grandma's capture, and personally blames himself from time to time. He leans on Poppy and his brothers who assure him that things are okay. No one really knows if he'll fully get back to his bright blue.

°Branch kept an item from each brother, even if they don't know it. They're buried somewhere in storage. He only wears Floyd's vest cause he missed him the most and held no animosity to him.

°Branch knows exactly how to deal with his nephews and niece when their energy gets too high because of Poppy. Sometimes, he'll ask her to help since she already teaches the younger trolls in the village.

<<prev || next>>

[ladykailitha]

The Holiday AU

All right, I saw a story in the steddie tag that was a “The Holiday” AU and they had Steve as Amanda (Cameron Diaz) and Eddie as Graham (Jude Law [hot Eddie British accent FTW]).

However... I think Steve is Iris (Kate Winslet).

Let me explain:

The plot- Iris is an English woman, working at a newspaper as a society columnist who is still hung up on her ex, Jasper who is stringing her along.

At the company Christmas party Jasper announces that he’s engaged. To someone else. Cue her and her best friend scheming to get her out of the country for the holiday to create some distance.

Then you have Amanda who is a film trailer editor, whose boyfriend cheated on her because she was ‘emotionally distant’. She infamously hasn’t cried in a really long time.

They agree to swap houses for a week and just get away from it all.

Amanda meets widower Graham when he crashes Iris’s place drunk because he forgot she was leaving town. They hook up but try to keep from catching feelings. Graham has two adorable little girls, Sophie and Olivia, whom Amanda meets and adores them. Cue catching feelings anyway.

In LA Iris meets dorky musician Miles who wants to be a film composer and Arthur the golden age of Hollywood script writer who the Writer’s Guild of America wants to honor.

About halfway through the trip Jasper shows up and confesses he still loves Iris and wants to continue things with her. But when pressed, he admits he doesn’t want to give up his fiancee and still wants to fool around with her. She tosses him out.

Miles has an actress girlfriend Maggie, whom he tries to surprise on Christmas eve and finds out she’s cheating on him. So he spends the night with Arthur’s friends and Iris and realizes that what he wants is her.

At the honoring ceremony Miles confesses his feelings for her and she says she going back to England for the New Year. Miles suggests he comes along and she agrees.

Amanda tries to leave Graham and the girls to go back to LA but when she thinks about life without the three of them, she starts crying. And runs back to him deciding she wants to stay.

And they all celebrate New Year’s eve together and live happily ever after.

So the tl’dr: Iris is still hung up on the worst person imaginable, who announces he’s engaged to someone else, swaps houses with Amanda and meets Miles the carefree musician who helps her find herself. Amanda is a hardened Hollywood-ite who finds love and family in idyllic countryside England.

So surface level you could say Steve is the shallow, hardened rich boy who falls in love with down-to-earth Eddie.

But!

Make Jasper Nancy and her fiance, Jonathan and hooboy does it work. Too well. Plus the whole journalism aspect of Iris’s career.

So who is Graham and Amanda you ask? Robin and Chrissy! Model Chrissy throws out her boyfriend, Jason after she finds him cheating on her and swaps places with Steve.

And since we want hot English accent Eddie, we change LA to London and idyllic English countryside with Hawkins.

Chrissy meets Robin when she stumbles into Steve’s house drunk, forgetting he’s gone. Robin has two surrogate kids and Vickie was her partner who passed away.

You have Wayne as Arthur, Billy as Maggie. And instead of Arthur’s friends, you get the Hellfire guys.

Steve’s best friend at the newspaper would be Dustin, of course.

Kudos to the person who came up with the idea, this would be fun.

[thisbluespirit]

An early 1990s interview with Jeremy Northam, from West Lancashire Evening Gazette (Sat 4th April 1992, p23), about his appearance in Appointment With Fear: House of Glass (an ITV anthology series.)

STRANGE things happen when Gerry Stafford—the last of the line—inherits his grandmother's family mansion.

The ancestral home takes on its own sinister character as soon as Master Gerald and his new American bride Sonia arrive to supervise its sale.

Even loyal house-keeper Mrs Gilbert acts oddly when she leaves Sonia to fend for herself alone on a dark and windy night.

Appointment With Fear: House of Glass (ITV, 8.50pm) is a ghostly chiller starring Lisa Orgolini, Jeremy Northam, Matyelok Gibbs and Mary Wimbush.

Lisa, who plays Sonia, found filming for the half-hour story was "sometimes quite scary."

"Most of our time was spent in a great big old house and I don't like being left on my own in big houses with lots of rooms!" admits Lisa, who is 28.

Fortunately, there was always the film crew there to take my mind off things. I could imagine the house (in Lymington, Hampshire) being very creepy at night. It's just as well that the family who live there have ten children to fill it, but even so..."

Actress Lisa admits that scary films have a spooky effect on her.

She says: "This is an old-fashioned ghost story. I admit I don't normally like to watch this kind of thing at home on my own. It's easier for me to be in one than watch one!

After I saw Hitchcock's 'Psycho' I never took a shower when I was alone in the house for many years."

Ironically in this new TVS film, Lisa actually played a scene in the shower, surrounded by a film crew for company! She says: "I was in a bathing suit and there were people around me spraying mist in the bathroom."

Lisa, who is from Los Angeles, turned down the chance to go to drama school in the States, preferring to come to England and study at drama school in London, where she is now based. Her father is a US film producer.

Lisa's television credits include Tell Me That You Love Me, Parnell and the Englishwoman, Campion, The Thorn Birds, and a leading role in the new series of Perfect Scoundrels from TVS, with Peter Bowles and Bryan Murray.

On stage she played alongside Julie Walters in Peter Hall's The Rose Tattoo with Patricia Hayes and her feature films including Shining Through and The Recruit.

Jeremy Northam (Piece of Cake, Journey's End and Fatal Inversion) plays Gerald, with Matyelok Gibbs (Maigret, The Bill, The Jewel in the Crown) as Mrs Gilbert the house-keeper and Mary Wimbush (Jeeves and Wooster, The Country Boy) as the ghost of Mrs Stafford.

Jeremy, 30, who plays the young heir to the Stafford family's long-established glass-making business, describes the film as "a good yarn."

The self-confessed thriller fan adds: "House of Glass plays upon the conventions of the thriller and the ghost story very well.

"I sometimes think telly takes itself too seriously and short films like this help to stop that happening.

"This is a good, simple story which is ideal for watching on a dark evening!"

Jeremy is the only actor in his family although his father, a retired academic, taught drama, and his mother did some chorus singing for a while.

The youngest of four children, Jeremy's eldest brother Chris is a pianist, brother Tim is a set designer and sister Kate is married with four children.

Jeremy's television career began in the summer of 1987 in 'Wish Me Luck' - he also had a leading role in the second series—and his other TV credits include 'Piece of Cake' and 'Journey's End'.

He spent two years at the National Theatre and in 1989 was winner of the Olivier award for best newcomer. Jeremy trained at the Bristol Old Vic and spent seasons in rep including a spell at Salisbury.

"I suppose I've been thinking about acting seriously since I was about 16. But I can't say it was something that crossed my mind before that.

"I thought it was kind of vanity really. I thought that you would have to think very highly of yourself, and in a way you do, but it's difficult to explain. You have to have a certain confidence."

[justforbooks]

Sir John Nott

Defence secretary in Margaret Thatcher’s cabinet during the Falklands war

The reputation of John Nott, who has died aged 92, will for ever be linked with the Falklands war of 1982. Nott was the defence secretary in Margaret Thatcher’s first administration and was extremely fortunate politically to survive one of Britain’s gravest postwar crises – yet it effectively ended his ministerial career.

Although the British taskforce retook the islands from Argentina after just 10 weeks’ occupation, Nott could not escape responsibility for his part in the government’s earlier decisions to reduce the islands’ protection, which had convinced the generals in Buenos Aires that they could launch their attack with impunity. Nor did he ever live down his ill-disguised pessimism about the taskforce’s chances of success. From being one of the Tories’ rising rightwing hopes and a prospective future chancellor, he left parliament for good a year after the war, with a knighthood; he was never awarded a peerage.

Nott was a somewhat forbidding figure with the air of a disapproving bank manager, a waspish tongue and a self-righteous and partisan manner – none of them attributes likely to inspire either the nation or its armed forces in time of national emergency. He had in fact calculated on an intermittent political career, sandwiching stints as an MP and minister between spells making money in business. Instead, his political career was over by the time he was 51 and he retired to the City, becoming chairman and chief executive of the merchant bank Lazard Brothers.

In that sense, his most memorable television appearance, a live interview with Robin Day in 1982 when he flounced out in an undignified huff on being referred to as a “here today, gone tomorrow” politician, was apposite. Indeed, 20 years later he entitled his autobiography Here Today, Gone Tomorrow (2002).

Born in Bromley. south-east London, John was the son of Phyllis (nee Francis) and Richard Nott, a rice broker from a West Country military family. On leaving Bradfield college, Berkshire, he served as a subaltern with the Gurkha Rifles during the Malayan emergency and was for a period the ADC to the commander-in-chief of British far east forces, before going to Trinity College, Cambridge, to study law and economics. He became president of the Cambridge Union and, on graduation, was called to the Bar, although he never practised as a lawyer. Instead he joined SG Warburg, the merchant bank, and remained there for eight years.

At Cambridge he met Miloska Sekol, a Slovenian refugee, who was studying English. The story went that Nott told her at their first meeting, in 1959, that he intended to marry her – a remarkable gesture from such an apparently staid and undashing figure, and an approach that appears to have taken her by surprise. She wrote in her diary that night: “What a cheek, how preposterous!” They married the same year.

Nott entered the Commons at the 1966 general election as MP for St Ives in Cornwall. He spent the rest of his life living in the county and promoting what he saw as its interests, calling for improved rail links west of Plymouth, and opposing incursions by French fishermen and the Anglo-French Concorde project. But it was as a bone-dry, rightwing economist, suspicious of the EU and pro-Commonwealth, that he made his mark: serving as an opposition economics spokesman and, after the Conservatives returned to power in 1970, becoming a junior Treasury minister, focusing on matters such as tax reform.

After Edward Heath’s 1974 defeat, however, he refused to become an opposition spokesman. He returned to the City as a consultant and to his Cornish estate, where he grew flowers commercially. Thatcher’s leadership was more to his liking and the rising Tory tide in favour of monetarism more ideologically congenial. “The party has almost found its soul again,” he told readers of the Daily Telegraph. He returned to the opposition frontbench, harrying the chancellor Denis Healey with a sharp wit.

Thatcher saw him as a kindred spirit, identified him as a rising star and, when the Tories returned to power in 1979, rewarded him by making him trade secretary. He naturally enthusiastically supported cuts in public spending, but also supported the expansion of London’s airports: a fourth terminal at Heathrow, a second runway at Gatwick and expansion at Stansted formed his most tangible legacy.

Then, in 1981, as the prime minister turned against the wets, Nott was moved to defence, to shake up the department and cut without squeamishness. He quickly decided that the priority was defence against the Soviet Union, not the promotion of worldwide, post-imperial pretensions, which was unfortunate in the light of what was to happen the following year in the South Atlantic. “Our first priority had to be credible deterrence from Soviet aggression on mainland Europe, decidedly not equipping ourselves for another Suez or post-colonial war,” he wrote later, and he proceeded to strengthen the army at the expense of the Royal Navy, targeting the service’s last aircraft carrier for closure.

Among the lesser cuts was a plan to scrap the gunboat Endurance, which guarded the Falklands. That, and the ruminations of his fellow rightwinger and Thatcherite rising star Nicholas Ridley that the islands were dispensable, sent a clear message to the junta. Had the Argentinian generals been a little more patient, Nott might single-handedly have made the taskforce that was subsequently launched impossible. As it was, he lost the navy minister to resignation and earned the lasting hostility of the first sea lord, Sir Henry Leach, who later wrote that he despised Nott’s performance.

Accordingly, when some Argentinian scrap metal merchants landed on South Georgia Island, sparking conflict, the government was taken by surprise. Nott later confessed that he had to look up where the Falkland Islands were on the globe in his office and he was immediately pessimistic of the chances of recovering them: it was Leach who seized the initiative to prove the navy’s worth and urged the prime minister, against her defence secretary’s advice and instincts, to mobilise an immediate taskforce to retake the islands. Nott’s insistence to MPs during that weekend’s emergency Commons debate that “no other country could have reacted so fast and the preparations have been in progress for several weeks. We were not unprepared” was therefore at best being economical with the truth.

When, 10 weeks later, the islands were retaken, albeit at considerable human cost, Nott received little of the credit and none of the glory within the party – that all went to Thatcher – or in the country, which was more inclined to credit the bravery and resilience of the troops than the triumphalism of politicians. His pretensions to succeed Howe as chancellor, or indeed any ambitions he might have harboured one day to follow Thatcher as prime minister, a possibility that had been occasionally mooted by some of the party’s zealouts, were at an end.

Before Thatcher’s post-Falklands general election landslide victory the following year, Nott chose to stand down as an MP. He could see the way the wind was blowing: the naval cuts were reversed. “The admirals have got their fucking gin palaces back,” he told friends. There was a certain degree of bitterness, too, even towards the prime minister herself. “The full cabinet was never more than a rubber stamp,” he said in a later BBC interview, accusing Thatcher of fostering a cult of personality: “Like all ambitious women, she thinks all men are feeble and that gentlemen are even more feeble.”

Back in the City, he accumulated directorships and money: chairman of Lazard, director of Royal Insurance, chairman of the food company Hillsdown Holdings, and of the clothing retailer Etam, and an adviser to the law firm Freshfields. He only occasionally intervened in politics: vociferously opposing the euro from an early stage and calling for early intervention in the 1990s Balkans crisis.

And he continued his battle with the pretensions of the navy: “Today’s defence policy has not been assisted by the Falklands experience,” he wrote in the Daily Telegraph in 2012. “It is still designed to prepare the Royal Navy for another Falklands … when technology, particularly air power, has moved into a new era … The Royal Navy’s future lies in a substantial number of well-armed modern frigates and destroyers, not two carriers, which are far too expensive to build, service and protect.”

He is survived by his wife and their children, Julian, William and Sasha.

🔔 John William Frederic Nott, politician, born 1 February 1932; died 6 November 2024

Daily inspiration. Discover more photos at Just for Books…?

[frazzledsoul]

I've been thinking of a Literati Civil Wars AU based on the excessive amount of Civil Wars lore I know, so here goes.

Joy Williams was born in Michigan but grew up in California. Her parents were involved in ministry and she was a CCM artist for many years, releasing three albums that sold well and was nominated for three Dove Awards (which are the CCM version of the Grammys). She married her first husband at the tail end of her CCM days and then decided she wanted to branch outside of the genre (he was her manager). Her first big gig was a song for an Oscar Meyer weiner campaign. Then she had some songs on Grey's Anatomy, met John Paul White at a songwriter's camp in Nashville, and alt country history was born.

So I'm thinking this backstory doesn't work if Lorelai raises Rory, but it absolutely does if her grandparents do. So Rory grows up the adored daughter (granddaughter) of devout Christians, who is a CCM teen prodigy and rises up quickly in the industry, fulfilling all the expectations of multiple generations, all the while she is yearning to break free and do her own kind of music and be more like the independent biological mother she barely knows.

So the husband/manager is Logan, of course, who Rory married young and has an excessive amount of influence over her life and career, as he is the route out of the CCM world she wants to leave behind.

John Paul White was born a Muscle Shoals boy (represent, y'all) but grew up on a chicken farm in Tennessee. He seems have been raised Catholic while Joy's background is probably evangelical (I don't know this for sure, just an observation). He recorded a few albums on his own before hooking up with Joy at the songwriter's camp.

IRL, John Paul is married and has four kids, but I don't want to incorporate that into the AU here. So I'm thinking Jess grew up with his mom on the chicken farm (spoiler alert: there's a cult there) but his family's roots are in Muscle Shoals and that's where Luke lives. So Jess is drawn to the musical culture of that area and all the history that comes with it, as its his route out of his own background. And yet he's an iconoclast and doesn't quite fit in there, because of the Catholic thing. He starts writing super dark lyrics and wearing a full suit during every performance.

So John Paul (Jess) and Rory (Joy) meet at the songwriter's camp. Sparks fly. Their disparate backgrounds and varying religious beliefs make up the yin/yang of their buoyant yet deeply depressing songs, which are always about that attraction you hate yourself for but can't fight. They don't travel with a band (The Civil Wars didn't, either) so their reputation is just based on the music and their chemistry onstage. They become fabulously successful with their first album, win multiple Grammys, and prepare to start recording their second album.

Then Rory becomes pregnant with Logan's baby (hello, AYITL plot twist) and things really heat up: Rory and Jess's emotional affair proceeds to a physical one, and Logan starts to realize that even the baby that he thought would save his marriage isn't enough to fight the chemistry. He's the manager and starts to steer their career towards featuring only Joy, wanting Jess out of the way ASAP. The baby is born and things get worse. Rory is torn between the two of them. Eventually they go on deep hiatus and Rory and Jess stop speaking. Jess retreats to Muscle Shoals and refuses to promote the second album: it wins a Grammy, which he accepts alone because he and Rory can't be in the same room together. Their last release is an alt country version of You Are My Sunshine.

(Most of the aforementioned events happened to the actual band, except the affair, which I can't prove, of course).

Rory releases a pop album that does nothing. She and her family move back to California. Jess starts an acclaimed indie record label in Muscle Shoals, where he releases albums by local artists as well as an all-but-forgotten Muscle Shoals songwriter/session player who he takes on tour with him (IRL, this would be Donny Fritts. Look it up). He releases a few solo albums but never reaches the success he had with Rory. The record label would be the alt country version of Truncheon Press, I think.

So IRL, Joy has a second child several years after the first one, breaks up with her husband almost immediately afterwards, and releases an alt-country album that is not as good as those in her Civil Wars days. Both she and her husband remarried in the years afterwards. John Paul White continued to tour, record, and produce albums for other artists. I saw him in concert twice and he absolutely never mentioned The Civil Wars. They remain on non speaking terms, apparently: they re-recorded Safe and Sound with Taylor Swift separately and under their own names. What actually happened there? Who the hell knows.

So I'd make the Literati end of this saga simpler: she can never really make it work with Logan again after falling in love with Jess, and they divorce. She meets Jess at the joint session of re-recording the pop star's song and they fall in love again, have their own kid, and make beautiful music once again. The pop star credits herself for playing Cupid.

[the-weirdos-mind]

Wall Royal

Wall Royal is the innermost wall in the country. Within this wall resides Queen Maleficia who rules the country. The crown was supposed to be passed down to her daughter but her daughter died while accompanying the Scouts in a mission. She gave her life to protect her comrades, leaving her infant son behind. The royal court is completely composed of citizens coming from noble families.

The citizens of the wall are all wealthy and upperclass. Nobles, retired soldiers who held many kills, and actors make up the population of the wall. Life in the wall is comfortable and full of many luxuries. The clothes are made from the finest materials available, the food is the best around and everyone lives in large manor like homes or luxury apartments. Many homes have servants to attend to their needs. The Magical Enforcement Officers protect its citizens and the royal family while the underground area of the wall is offered no protection.

The underground portion of the wall is a hot spot for crime and the people down there are very poor. Most of the people there are criminals or starving.

Notable Families:

The Draconia’s: The royal family, each member of the royal family must serve time as a soldier before being crowned so they can understand the struggles of being in the military and be prepared in case a Phantom should get into the wall.

The Kingscholar’s: A noble house part of the royal court. The oldest child becomes the one to hold the position. Falena currently serves in the court with his son Cheka set to take over when his father retires.

The Schoenheit’s: A family of actors who star in many movies and theatre productions. They’re one of the best known actor families in the wall. The members of this family is said to be some of the most beautiful people in the country.

The Shroud’s: The family that constructed the walls. Though many people were involved in the construction, they were the ones who started it. After all the walls were completed, the family had become reclusive. It’s rare to see them out in the open instead of checking on the condition of the walls and upgrading the weapons on the top of them.

The Crowley’s: Another noble family that serves in the court. Nobody knows how they came to power but they play a vital role in the court. The whole family is shrouded in mystery and many rumors about their rise to power flutter throughout the land.

The Crewel’s: A family of fashion designers that designed the soldiers uniforms. They designed many clothes for the citizens and the best pieces reside in the wall. Though fashion is a major part of their career’s, most of the family members do time in the military and bring their clothes into the other walls, at prices less than the ones in the wall so everyone can afford them.

The Asim’s: A wealthy family of merchants who have guilds in every wall. Everything that comes from the guild is at a reasonable price for every wall. Everyone loves the products that come from them. The family mostly resides in the wall but do travel to other walls for trade and business.

The Viper’s: A family of servants who’ve been serving the Asim’s since they started their business. For generations, they’ve been serving and retaining the family, even joining them in the military if one of the Asim’s decided to join.

The LeBlanche’s: Another family of actors who also starred in many movies and theatre productions. They’re also really good looking and are regarded as more beautiful than the Schoenheit’s.

The Kongelige’s: Another family that serves in the court. The family is known for having a lot of children when a new spouse is entered into the family. Some kids go to serve in the court while the rest figure things out. Anwir is the first member to join the military, hoping for his parents approval.

@adrianasunderworld @mangacupcake @writing-heiress @marrondrawsalot @anxious-twisted-vampire @nproduction626

Wall Noble

Wall Raven

Masterlist

[terrainofheartfelt]

Sort of inspired by your discussion of Jenny needing to go to London alone to really grow into herself and mature as a person, in an ideal world in which none of the main characters were forcibly tethered to the UES or its more toxic inhabitants post-high school, how do you generally - like broad strokes - imagine them developing as people in college and throughout their twenties? I always wonder where everyone might have ended up had they not been constrained by the type of narrative they were living in, and I’d love to hear any headcanons you have on the subject!

I've been thinking about this on and off since i received it (an embarrassingly - for me - amount of time ago) and now finally feel like I can answer.

because, like, what if we weren't constrained by the harsh realities of making tv? what if the rules meant that they could leave new york?

well, first, let's dovetail off jen moving to london and blossoming, and send eric along with her. he can go to cambridge, or any of the other big name universities in the area, and he and jenny would be flatmates and live their own hilarious queer sitcom of being students in london.

I've already plugged nads' yale au in my answers this evening, but I still really like the idea of dan and blair attending yale, and outside of the maelstrom of manhattan drama, they settle into their own selves and learn they could actually...like each other? and then they fall in LOVE as far as careers, they are the most driven. and we've talked about novelist dan and editress blair and art historian blair and college prof dan.....but lately I've been thinking about blair working in costuming. It's not high fashion design, but I think it's a great synthesis of the things we know blair loves: literature, film, history, art history & fashion history, Evil Dictator of Good Taste, being a specialist and big boss on a niche subject...yeah...

i still enjoy the idea of vanessa being at nyu, or at another arts college in nyc, and making her own way and building her own story (without being boxed in to the secondary character of anyone else's story!) I like the idea of her attending Tisch too, and expanding her skill set into screenwriting in that way.

to plug another au by a friend, S's goodbye stranger introduced the concept of Serena attending Berkeley, and I LOVE it. I love that for her. Berserk-ley. I think that school in that part of the country would be where Serena would really thrive. She becomes a full glamorous SF queen. perhaps she opens a coffee shop. Blair is outwardly mortified but inwardly very proud.

As for Nate, I think he is the character who really should take a gap year. It's never questioned, but the way he is yanked around by the collar those first two seasons, the more I think about it, the more it makes sense that nate would decide that he needs some time to figure out what it is he wants. sidebar: bc the serena gap year felt disingenuous in many ways, yk? serena was so eager to leave new york and go to school and study. she likes learning, we see it, and the opportunity to reinvent herself that college would provide....why would she walk away from it? except for TV Reasons. so, I like the thought of nate taking at least a year. traveling, volunteering, maybe he takes a community college course or two. he falls off the grid for a while and he realizes how healthy and how happy he feels without the constant eyes and pressure of his family & gossip girl. and after that time, he's found what he actually wants to do, and goes to school to do it. -- as always, I'm fond of nate working in health care, as a nurse or pt or something, but it could really be anything. teacher? chef? social worker? children's librarian? (actually culinary student nate has come up in convos with ivy & cherry before and I am into it.)

and uhhhhhh i guess chip wiskers can crash his inherited business and money into the ground bc lets be real that fucko would try to launch his own cryptocurrency and since he seems to hold such disdain for education and self-betterment, he stagnates and falls off the face of the earth byeeee

[to-be-a-dreamer]

For the au asks: monster hunter au and 2000s au.

OKAY OKAY I had a lot of different ideas of how to do this but I think I got it figured out!

My first instinct was the classic Moster Hunter x Monster set up but that felt too easy so we're doing Monster Hunter x Monster Hunter (it kinda flew off the rails and neither of them are really hunters but shhhh its fine) and there's probably some kind of metaphor about systemic discrimination hidden in here somewhere that I'm not smart enough to figure out

Monsters, to the general public, are defined as previously-human creatures who have been infected or corrupted in such a way that they have lost their humanity. This includes but is not limited to werewolves, vampires, and zombies. Although these creatures are able to access the memories of the humans they once were and can even imitate their personality, the person they were before their corruption is considered legally and socially deceased. While they can be highly intelligent and manipulative, monsters are ultimately driven only by the animalistic instinct to kill. They are highly dangerous and thus closely monitored by the government.

If the family of the deceased wishes to keep the monster that corrupted their loved one's body, they are allowed to do so but with several restrictions. The monster is given daily injections that keep it in a semi-sedated state, is not allowed to leave its caregiver's property without a police escort, and is required to undergo a weekly evaluation to assess how dangerous it is and if it should be allowed to continue living with its caregiver.

Most monsters are eventually sent to general care facilities where they are kept under the security and care of trained professionals for the remainder of their lives. (no one is immortal in this au methinks, they might just be harder to wound/kill and have accelerated healing) Any monster who escapes custody is considered a rogue and is killed on sight by the police or military.

Katherine is the daughter of Joseph Pulitzer, the country's top manufacturer of anti-monster weapons. Her father has dedicated his entire life to "protecting the innocent" by selling his inventions to the US army and police force and being one of the most well-known advocates for the capture and "relocation" of all monsters.

Pulizter expects his daughter to work in his company, preferably in the sales and marketing department, but Katherine wants to do more. She's seen documentaries, advertisements, and news stories about the Corrupted Human Regulation (CHR) branch of the military, colloquially referred to as hunters. For as long as she can remember, Katherine has looked up to the brave, honorable soldiers who risk their lives to protect people and has always known she wanted to join them one day.

Is it stupid of her to go wandering around the woods hoping to find a rogue monster to fight, kill, and call in to the CHR so she can finally prove to her father that she's serious about this "pipe dream", as he calls it? Probably, but the woods near the city are usually pretty safe anyways so it's not likely for her to run into anything out there. The anti-monster defenses in the area are pretty intense and there hasn't been a rogue monster sighting in years. There's not even that many household monsters in the city, most families who decide to host one end up moving away after a few months. Katherine can count the number of times she's seen a monster on one hand, so she doesn't really expect to find one just by wandering around the forest.

One of those "the odds are low but never zero" kind of situations.

She freezes at first. Probably not the best start to her hunting career, but she forgives herself quickly and instead focuses on aiming her gun at the creature in front of her. It's not a top-of-the-line weapon like the kind her father supplies to the CHR, but it's still pretty lethal, especially if she can hit a half-decent shot. Katherine is the first to admit that she's not the most skilled with a gun, but she can hit pretty close to the bullseye at the shooting range so she expects this will be easy enough, especially since the creature hasn't seemed to notice her yet.

That should have been her first indication that something weird was going on. Werewolves have a highly keen sense of smell and hearing, even better than actual wolves. They can smell their prey from over three miles away and their hearing can reach up to twenty. This wolf should have sensed her coming ages before she was able to lay eyes on it, especially since it was fully shifted. It should have killed her before she even realized what was happening

I have a few ideas for how this scene would go, but the main thing is that Katherine realizes the wolf is stalking a girl, probably close to her own age, when it suddenly pounces into a clump of foliage and she hears a loud shriek echoing through the forest. She doesn't think. She doesn't take the time to aim her gun properly or recognize the lighthearted laughing that follows the scream. She just shoots.

The wolf staggers back as the girl quickly raises to her feet, looking absolutely horrified. It lets out a strangled howl as the girl's eyes lock onto Katherine's and she steps in front of the wolf, as if she was trying to protect it. The girl keeps one hand on the shaking creature's shoulder and holds the other up in front of her, yelling at Katherine to stop. She doesn't move when Katherine cocks her gun again and tells her to run so she can finish the monster off. The girl's gaze locks onto something behind Katherine just a split second before something big and strong slams into her back, knocking her to the ground and pinning her in place.

The other werewolf's breath is hot on her face as she helplessly gropes around for the gun she dropped, staring up into furious, glowing yellow eyes. It growls deeply from its chest, strong muscles tensing under sleek red fur and Katherine braces herself for whatever comes next. Would it finish her off quickly? Would it take its time, relishing in her suffering before leaving her to the elements? Would it bite her and turn her into one of its kind?

The last possibility scared her the most.

"Civilian weapon. One of the nasty ones but she's not CHR. Not even a licensed freelance hunter and barely an amateur, if you can even call her that. This was probably her first hunt."

The girl, the one she had been trying to save, had picked up her gun to examine before unloading it and tucking both the gun and the bullets into her bag. Katherine wonders for a split second if she's a werewolf too, but as she enters Katherine's vision she is distinctly human. Her teeth are dulled, her nails are small and rounded, and her incredibly pretty eyes are a soft brown color.

She tells the monster on top of Katherine to let her up and help the one tending to the injured wolf instead. The creature obeys, not without snapping its teeth in her face and snarling angrily, but it lets her go.

Katherine is too shaky to resist as the girl pulls her up into a sitting position, tugging the collar of her shirt down to inspect something on her shoulder. She feels a slight sting and realizes the wolf's claws must have dug into her skin, but the girl tells her it's barely a scratch.

"Did you drive here?" "Y-yeah. What the hell are you doing hanging around a werewolf pack? You're gonna get yourself killed" "The way I see it, the wolves were in more danger tonight than I was. Lucky you're such a terrible shot and only grazed him." "It attacked you." "We were playing a game. This scratch should clot on its own by the time you get back to your car. Sorry about that, he still forgets how sharp his claws are sometimes. Now get the hell out of here and, do everyone a favor, learn how to use a gun properly before you go traipsing around the woods trying to play the hero." "I'm not- I mean- I can take you home too." "No." "You can't just stay out here in the middle of nowhere with a pack on the loose." "Full offense, but I feel about ten times safer with my friends than with a trigger-happy amateur hunter who can't even aim."

The girl turns away from her after that, kneeling down next to the injured wolf to assess the damage Katherine had done. She was right, it was a terrible shot, and the wolf was already starting to heal, even with the wolfsbane that had coated the bullet. The girl must have some kind of death wish, with the way she turns her back on the two fully-shifted werewolves standing guard over their companion. She doesn't even flinch when the injured wolf snaps at her as she smears some kind of thick paste over the wound. The girl just pushes the monster's head back down and tells it to stop moving with a teasing grin and a flick on its nose.

If Katherine didn't know any better, she would say the werewolf looked like it was pouting.

She can't really explain why she doesn't call the CHR the second she gets back to her car. She can't explain why she drives right by the police station without even slowing down. She can't explain why she sneaks past her father on her way inside and buries the blood-stained shirt deep in her dresser drawer. She can't explain why she stares at her phone for a few minutes before going to sleep without reporting the pack of vicious monsters just outside of the city. She can't explain why she spends the entire weekend searching through the missing persons section of old newspapers for the girl's face.

Sarah Jacobs. That's the name she finds.

She can't explain why it makes her feel so giddy.

Katherine goes back to the woods. It's a long shot, she knows. The wolf pack probably cleared out, expecting her to report them. But still, it's worth a shot so she goes back to the place where she shot the wolf. It's empty like she expected, but she leaves the short note she wrote pinned to a tree.

"You're really bad at this whole hunting thing, you know."

The high-pitched scream Katherine let out would have been embarrassing if she wasn't so focused on slowing her heart back down to a normal pace.

The girl, Sarah, had apparently found the note and snuck into the backseat of her car in less time than it took Katherine to walk back. She holds it up questioningly, displaying the envelope where Katherine had written the girl's name in careful lettering "So, you want to know more? First things first, you know my name so it's only fair you tell me yours."

And yeah that's as far as I've gotten plotwise. I haven't fully worked out the rest of the details but here's what I'm thinking so far:

Sarah is part of a small group that helps newly-turned monsters escape the city. (or any monster they can find, it's just easier when they haven't been fully processed yet) They're also working to expose all the misinformation about monsters but it's slow going. Sarah is mostly involved in the short-term solution, getting people to safety.

She joined after her twin brother, David, was attacked by a werewolf and turned. Everyone told her that her brother was dead and the monster just looked like him, but she knew they were wrong. No matter what she had learned growing up, no matter what the doctors or the specialists or the police said, she knew her brother. She knew he was the same person he had always been, just a little different.

No one else in their lives felt the same way. Her parents held a funeral and everyone mourned a boy who was very much alive and begging to still be loved. They were going to send him away to some facility that would keep him drugged and isolated until they found some excuse to get rid of him for good and she just couldn't accept that. So she helped him escape and they ran away together. They made it to the woods when the group found them and gave them a new home.

Katherine learns the truth about monsters, of course. She was lied to her entire life and that takes a while to come to terms with, but she meets the other monsters (aka, all the newsies) and it's so so different than everything she's ever been told.

She meets Davey, Sarah's brother, and he loves all the same books as her. He likes mint chocolate chip ice cream and misses his cat. He wants to be a writer and he's afraid of heights. He chews on his claws and avoids lingering on his eyes when he looks in the mirror. He doesn't like to shift but does it anyway because a pair of young siblings, newly turned vampires she learns, say he looks like their family dog and they sleep better when they can curl up against his side and pretend they're back home.

She meets Spot, a werewolf who was a pack leader for a long time before joining the group and does not like Katherine at all.

"Probably because you shot her boyfriend", Sarah explains.

She meets Race, said boyfriend, who doesn't actually seem all that bothered by it and teaches Katherine how to play poker.

I have absolutely zero thoughts about what's going on with any of the other characters, sorry. Jack's in here somewhere and he and Davey kiss about it but that's all I got.

But yeah, Katherine eventually joins them and helps where she can. She keeps an eye on reports of newly-turned monsters so the others can help them escape as soon as possible. She gathers as much information as possible on the monster care facilities and they're able to pull off a raid with her intel. She's able to find a newspaper willing to print articles debunking misinformation about monsters that Davey and some others wrote. This is not a "privileged white person saves the poor little minority group" type of thing btw, the monsters do most of the work, she just helps with information since most of them can't go to the city and then she steps back to let them do their thing.

NGL, I don't really know what the overarching story is but yeah, that's the AU idea.

Oh yeah and at some point, Katherine and Sarah kiss a bunch

Nearly forgot that part

Was this comprehensible? Who knows! But it was fun to brainstorm and I might develop it further in the future, I think it would be a fun universe to write oneshots for.

[underwater-i-will-go]

reality starts settling in. it feels like that "real world" thing has its downsides.

they met at city, they played together. for their boyhood club, they represented their country together, hell, they even won the euros together. it felt like it would never end, like a never ending dream, such a beautiful dream. two friends doing what they loved the most, together. they never thought the day would come they'd lose each other, not because they thought they'd play together at city forever, but just because neither of them thought it would over so quick. how did time pass so quickly? oh how?

spring. the time everything starts blossoming, when the world seems to unfreeze, when the sun shines again and the snow melts. that's when they'd first met. shy smiles, two pairs of eyes trying to avoid contact, two stuffy noses, both plagued by hay fever. two hearts, both like plain sheets of paper. no one had written their initials on them yet, no one had creased the paper, not yet dared to crumple them up and discard them. clean. innocent, jumping happily within their chests. but time should change this, time will change everything. cole would have a few flings with girls from school, never serious. james was the shy one of the pair, whenever cole would brag with shagging a new girl, james would either lie or just let him talk. it's just talking. they're just girls. he's just having fun. despite them both being so young, spots on their faces, beard stubbles that won't quite grow in just yet, it felt like their lives were going into separate directions. but maybe it was just james who had felt this way, his heart wounded by cole growing up faster than him. it bled, not quite enough to leak through his shirt, not enough to make cole notice.

james didn't think he was jealous. and if he was, he didn't know if he was jealous of cole being ahead of him, having more experience in both life and football, or if he was jealous of the girls he'd take out for cheap chinese food before bringing them home whenever his parents were out. that's what they used to do, cheap chinese food and video games. now it's cheap chinese food and teresa, jessica, whatever all of their names were. the times they'd hang out after training became less, some days they wouldn't talk past greetings. james would patiently wait for cole to drop the girl he currently saw, because usually that meant they'd hang out again, but this time it had been half a year. cole's heart had been consumed by her entirely, her name written all over it, the writing dirty, unclean. cole kept telling james and the others how much he loved her, how beautiful it felt. but she wasn't a good person, cole too young to see it, the ink in his heart sunken in too deeply. can you rub out ink from a wound? you can, as long as it's still fresh. but once it heals, it's stuck in it forever.

james feared this time, the time the ink in cole's heart would grow in. many young players would be advised to keep their girls, marry young, start a family young, keeping them away from partying and drinking. why did he worry so much? oh why? why would the blood stain on his shirt leak more? so much that he was worried cole would start seeing the it. he could lie about why it was there, that someone had written on his heart, rubbing out the ink before it would heal.

"you alright mate? you've been so quite lately" cole looked up from his chips, pointing to james' shirt. "you got some on it" james looked down. a ketchup stain right where his heart was. cole took a napkin to rub the ketchup off his shirt, james fearing he'd reveal the blood stain underneath it. the sun is setting, the wind cool on their skin. james talks about burnley, leaving city behind. cole is ready to start a career at chelsea, having received an offer he cannot resist. hasn't told james about it, hasn't made up his mind yet. isn't sure. their ways are bound to part one way or another, both boys not wanting to see it. it feels so unreal, they have grown up so fast. grown up together, grown apart in ways they don't want to admit. it doesn't feel the same anymore, conversations about adult topics. what once was video games is now the girls they're seeing, what once was muddy pitches on saturday afternoons is now lifting trophies for their country on sunday nights.

their drinks are drunk, their food is eaten. a few laughs are shared, a few memories are told. neither of them knew that this would be the last night they'd share together at city.

and so it was saturday, again. but not like the saturdays they have in memory, james in goal on the muddy pitch, cole trying to score an important goal, their parents in the stands cheering. them together, one team. it's the first day they're seeing each other again on the pitch ever since winning the euros. but they play for different clubs, their first days as rivals. it feels weird, feels wrong. cole smiles at him in the tunnel, wishes him and his new club good luck.

and so a penalty is rewarded. cole looks at james, so much fear in his eyes, so scared of failure. guilt in his heart, shaky legs. james recognises the eyes looking at him, the same eyes of the boy who couldn't score a goal against him on the first day of training. now taking a penalty for one of the biggest clubs in the country, and james has to try and stop it. it doesn't feel right, but it's what it's like now. just a couple of months ago james would cheer on every goal cole scored, together as a team. now a goal scored by cole means his club losing. the referee blows the whistle, one last look at each other is shared. now it's james with the fear in his heart, the stain beginning to leak blood again, the wound he once thought to have healed. he believes cole finally sees it now, one last deep breath, a memory playing in front of james' inner eye.

"did you let me score earlier in training, be honest." he asks james. "because i can never get the ball past you! you always stop me." james laughed. "no i didn't, it just means you're getting better." cole's eyes light up. "really?" james nods again. "told you, you've got it in you."

the same smile on james lips, small, anyone but cole would miss it. cole takes the penalty, scores. the travelling fans cheer, cole's new teammates come to congratulate him. james has failed his club, again. but he hasn't failed his friend. cole comes back to james at full time. "did you let me have the goal, be honest." he asks, his voice so much deeper, his kit now in a darker shade of blue. now his rival, no longer his teammate. "no i didn't, you have just gotten better." james says. cole smiles. "really?" james nods. "told you, you've always had it in you."

[mystiika]

re; vincente escarra

h i s t o r y ( tw for pregnancy, death & a car accident )

note: forgive how long this info post is, i got a little carried away lol

  vincente serrano escarra’s childhood was rather run of the mill. he was born in mexico where he spent a few years before his family moved to the states. as he ages he develops more & more of an interest in the arts, which had been supported until he decides to pursue art as a career which didn’t go over well. because “they didn’t move countries so he could be an artist” or something along those lines. but his parents do want him to be happy so instead of telling him an absolute no,they agree that if he pays for his own university schooling then they’d allow him to do that & then had 2 years after his graduation to “make it” or he’d go back to school to do what his parents chose for him. which, of course, was the root he went. he knew he had talent & knew he could do it.

  so he went to school, his graduation but after a year, he felt like he had plateaued. not that his art was suffering but rather gaining traction had become an issue. but incidentally made friends with someone who owned a gallery, someone who agreed to take a look at his work once said person found out his chosen career. & they liked it enough to give access to their private art studio to save on some cash & gave him enough pointers to really solidify his style & find a way to make money with his newfound brand.

  & its during this inbetween period vincente meets a girl named joyce. joyce was an art teacher, someone he found himself able to connect with over a shared love of the arts. the two were friends for a good while but as any bystander could see, they would eventually date. 3 years later, well past eh required deadline he successfully me, joyce gets pregnant & while vincente was excited about the idea of being a dad, joyce was not. which, while disappointing to vincente, he recognised that it wasn’t his decision to make. she just didn’t feel like she was ready to have kids & wanted to focus on living out the rest of her 20s childfree. but despite this, she agreed to carry the baby to term under several conditions, the main stipulation being that she would have nothing to do with the child after they were born. while it might sound a little harsh to some, children just wasn’t something she wanted at that time. & vincente agreed.

  so straight from the birth of his daughter, he was a single father to this adorable little girl he named marisol. being a single parent can be difficult enough but living off a new artist’s income wasn’t super ideal. even so he raises her as best he can & she blossoms into such a lovely & happy child, one he couldn’t have been happier to raise.

 then, its on the way to pick up his daughter from a play date with her friend, that he gets into a pretty gnarly car accident. while he survives for a time, his injuries were too severe & he succumbed only two days later.  but at this point marisol is still so young, she’s still in elementary school, there’s so much of her life she has left so he’s begging & pleading to whatever gods are out there to let him live a little longer so that his daughter wouldn’t be left alone.

  & so he’s given a deal

  he will be allowed to live until she reaches adulthood but after she turns 18 he has to completely give up life as a regular human & become an alebrije, serving as a guide for others still living their lives on earth. he does get to keep his regular human body, but once he travels into the land of the dead he takes on his newfound alebrije form.

  from the outside it appeared as if his doctors had been able to restore sinus rhythm, recovering enough to make it home to marisol a mere week later. but he can’t tell anyone about this deal, especially his daughter. but knowing he has to keep this secret & knowing that he can’t tell her that he’s going to have to leave her sooner than anyone would expect, it causes his heart to ache in a way he couldn’t explain — it was the only way he could make sure he could be there with her just a little bit longer.

  he also doesn’t know how he’s gonna die again, just that it’s going to happen. he makes peace with this, living each day as full as he can to make the most of the time he has left.

  & so comes the day of marisol’s 18th birthday. its a beautiful celebration, filled with laughter & love, surrounded by friends & family. but the next morning when its daughter comes into his bedroom, she finds him dead having passed peacefully in his sleep.

  today his life is spent watching over the few souls he’d been assigned, guiding & protecting them through their every day — as was his job & as so his job will remain.

i n f l u e n c e s

   based on alebrijes of mexican folklore ( huge info post on its origins/impact on modern culture coming soon ), not sure what else to say since there’s not really any media to draw from? idk. genre focus is folklore/mythology, magical realism, & slice of life. i also take some influence from other deities/pantheons as i plan to have vincente rather heavily connected with one of my other mythology muses, tu’er shen. explanation post on their dynamic will be up as soon as i finish ironing out a few more details 

[ncisfranchise-source]

NCIS: Sydney is putting the pressure on the team — NCIS and AFP agents working together — in its second season, so what better way than to bond two of them together in a new way first? Such is the case with Mackey (Olivia Swann) and JD (Todd Lasance), after she opened up to him and revealed she has a son back in the United States, in the premiere.

“The first season of the show was about building this blended family, bringing these kind of disparate misfits together, and seeing if we could somehow find a bond that would actually hold them together under stress. And I think by the end of the first season, we got to that point where we really felt like almost unexpectedly these guys had bonded into what is a team, a family. So the second season is all about putting that family under pressure, under seismic pressure to see whether those bonds can hold,” executive producer Morgan O’Neill tells TV Insider.

“One of the things that we wanted to do was to make sure that part of the jeopardy in that family was that we learn more about each other as a family. And it was important to us that Mackey and JD in particular share a secret that they and only they hold,” he continues.

Mackey’s confession about her son came when both she and JD were on their outs with their respective agencies and continuing to work the case at hand. She then says she wouldn’t have told him if not for what was going on at the time. The executive producer promises that we’ll see her son at some point but also reminds us how long it took to find out who Kelly was to Gibbs (Mark Harmon) on NCIS: “In the very first episode of the very first show, we find Gibbs in the basement working on a wooden boat, and you see the name tag on the wooden boat, and it’s not until several seasons later that you realize the name tag is the name of his dead daughter.”

For O’Neill, this was about digging deeper into the character of Mackey and using the research he did into women in the military and their “unique sacrifice”: The period of time when they’d hit their strides in their career is when they’d typically have children (25-40).

“It’s a really tricky juggle,” he says. When it comes to Mackey specifically, “It just humanized her for me in a way that few other revelations could. What I love about the fact that she’s got a kid is that we can then go back and watch their first season again and realize so many nuances about the decisions that she was making because she’s doing it as a mother. I love TV when things deepen and you’re allowed to rewind the clock and go back and reanalyze things and look at things afresh and realize that there’s a whole bunch of stuff that’s happening under the surface that you weren’t privy to the first time ’round.”

Now that she’s told JD, that “really adds a layer to their relationship that didn’t exist beforehand, and hopefully at that point you watch everything that they do, all of their interactions, all of the subtleties about leading this team with a different lens,” he says.

As is the case with procedurals and partners, there’s always the question of whether or not they’ll get together. “It’s a challenge,” O’Neill admits. “Anyone who’s ever worked in a workplace or an office has confronted the exact situation Mackey and JD are in. He’s coming out of a divorce, he’s living in a friend’s garage. She’s single in a foreign country. They’re both working 60 hours a week shoulder to shoulder. They’re both frankly hot.”

However, he says, “The challenge is you can’t go there. It ruins everything. One of you has to leave the office, someone gets fired, who knows what. So the challenge of that blossoming into a romantic relationship is very real. Does that stop them potentially from finding moments that spark? Probably not. Is there a potential for it to be more than that? I guess we’ll have to wait and see, but I would suggest that whatever is simmering under the surface of their relationship definitely has the potential to spark up into something that is dangerous within the context of an organization like the one they work in and they’ll probably do everything they can to avoid it. Not to be too coy about it, but we’ll just have to see how good they are at ignoring it.”

[madam-wakefield]

OPEN WHEN… CHAPTER 16

A03 Link FF Link

Summary:

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11 Chapter 12 Chapter 13  Chapter 14  Chapter 15 When a few years into their relationship Bernie is asked to go back to the army and deploy Serena isn’t sure how she’s going to get through the nine months without her girlfriend. What she doesn’t expect is for it to be her girlfriend who has the perfect set of surprises to get her through both the best and the worst days. Canon divergent - Elinor lives (well actually the accident never happens), Raf lives, and Cameron isn’t a total ass! The staff of AAU also probably didn’t all work on there at the same time in canon but do in this! The fic is already fully written with the first few chapters having already been Beta’d. 27 chapters including the epilogue. Hoping to post every Monday and Friday!

Open when you need a break...

January has been tough on Serena; she’s never liked January after the joy of Christmas and New Year she just misses the excitement. She doesn’t think the dark cold mornings help or how early is gets dark at night. On days when she works a long day shift, she wakes when it’s dark, leaves the house when it’s dark and returns home when it’s dark. She just misses actually seeing the sunlight, she guesses that’s definitely a downside of working in a hospital she doesn’t exactly get much time to get outside during her working hours.

Think of work that has been relentless too recently. The flu has somehow made its way around the majority of the AAU staff, and while she’s thankful she at least avoids getting ill this time she ends up pulling extra shifts, working on days that she should have been off, or staying late because the ward had been short staffed in some way. She’d mentioned it to Hanssen but had known there was little he could do, NHS budget are so stretched and they are lucky to even have the trauma unit still, so many around the country have been closed, knows Hanssen wouldn’t ever let that happen at Holby but knows that there had been no extra staff to cover the shortfall caused by this current bout of illness.

On top of the illness causing her ward to be permanently short staffed. She does also think they’ve averaged more emergency surgeries and trauma cases than they have for as long as she can remember. Tough surgeries too, surgeries where the odds are stacked against her and that take every ounce of her concentration and something even that isn’t enough, and she loses patients, and it’s part of the job, not a nice part but a reality and at the moment something about it along with everything just makes it more difficult.

She loves her job, always has and she can only assume she always will, loves being able to help people and their families. Loves that she also gets to teach new doctors in the process, see the way they develop and thrive as they go through their careers. Sometimes she finds it hard to think she was ever there once, especially with where she is now. But then isn’t that one of the reasons she loves the teaching part of her job so much, she gets to help inspire the younger doctors too.

She guesses on top of work that she has Jason, and as much as she wouldn’t change him for the world be does still need a lot of her support and there is still so much that he can not do, and as much as she loves him, she does get tired. The responsibility of always having to be the one to make sure he’s got a proper dinner on the table. She has to make sure she buys the right food when she goes shopping because for Jason the same food from two different brands tastes different. And Serena tries to get it she really does, knows this is part of who Jason is but that doesn’t make it easy. Then on top of that theirs the extra time he seems to just need her presence with him, to make up for Bernie not being around. Usually, it’s just to sit with him and be there while he’s watching telly though sometimes, she can’t help but run through the list of other things she has to do, all in her head of course.

Then she has the house to keep in order. Stupidly she thought that might be easier with Bernie gone, but Bernie has become so much better in the time that they’ve lived together that it’s only now she’s not around that Serena realises how much she usually does, taking out the bins, hoovering the house, cleaning the bathrooms. All things Serena has had to take over doing again. There are also the odd jobs of DIY that Serena could mention to Bernie one day and would be fixed the next, she can’t do that herself but it does always add to her list, has to ring the handyman knows that Jason can’t cope with anything being out of order for too long.

On top off all of that there is Elinor to keep contact with. She loves her daughter dearly and now the relationship seems to be strengthening she doesn’t want to do anything to jeopardize that. Since New Years Eve alone the texts and phone calls have come easier, Serena has found it easier to talk to Elinor to know that Elinor also cares about what she has to say too. She’s never not be grateful for that, knows Bernie would give anything to have what she does with Elinor with Charlotte, but it seems right now that with everything else that Serena just needs a break.

But then at the same time she feels guilty for needing a break because really what has she got to complain about? Compared to her girlfriend life is easy, Bernie is in a warzone where she most certainly isn’t getting a day off. Serena can’t even begin to imagine what she is seeing and what she is dealing with.

She shakes her head, has to stop that thought before it spiral. That’s one thing with Serena, when she is tired and so in need of a break, she struggles to control her emotions, her temper and things do quickly spiral out of control. She takes a breath, forces herself to think about what she needs, remember its okay to have her own needs. Then she decides, she needs to ‘hear’ from Bernie, needs to let herself get lost in her girlfriend’s words for a bit.

She goes to the kitchen and puts on the kettle then while its boiling she goes to the box, the envelopes have been such a source of comfort over the past five and a half months, she wonders if Bernie knew just how important they would be before she wrote them, she guesses she must have done with how much work she put into them.

Her eyes come across the envelope she wants “Serena - Open when you need a break”. And she has to say Bernie knows her so well, knows that this is just the sort of thing she would need her for even if she can’t be physically here. She goes back to the kitchen then, putting the envelope carefully out of the way just in case, and only picking it up again when she has a steaming mug of coffee in her hand.

She walks into the living room, and seats herself on the sofa, glad that she decided to light the fire when she woke this morning, she lets the heat of it warm her for a few minutes, beginning to sip her coffee, before turning her full attention to Bernie’s letter.

My Dearest Serena,

The first thing I have to say is that before you read the rest of the content of this letter, I want you to know that I do not want you feeling guilty for needing a break. I don’t want you to think that there is something wrong with needing to get away for a few days because I can’t. Right now, our situations are so very different and if you need a break that is totally okay, and I’m proud of you for letting yourself recognise what you need.

Serena, I know how you get when you are so in need of a break. You over analyse every decision you make; you worry that you aren’t good enough or you let your own emotions spiral so I want you to stop reading for a second and think of five positive things you have done in the past week. So you remember you are great and amazing, but to be that wonderful, amazing person you also need to look after yourself. You need to take some time to put yourself first. 

I know you don’t find putting yourself first easy, you’ve been told too many times that you should be able to manage everything, that it should all just slot together perfectly. In reality that isn’t true Serena, not for anyone and that’s okay, it doesn’t make you weak, or unworthy or any of those other things that will be crossing your mind right now. The fact you can recognise what you need is a strength and one I never want you to lose.

Right now, as you’ve recognised what you need, I want to help you with it as much as I can from where I am in the desert three thousand miles away. On the back of this letter, I have written a voucher code, that voucher code is for you to use to book yourself a hotel somewhere for a few nights. Maybe a four star with a pool so you can have a nice swim in the morning.

I want you to book a few days off work, I know you have holiday left, and I know it’s got to be used up by April so you might as well enjoy it! Speak to Alan about supporting Jason for a few days and then choose where you want to go and enjoy having a much needed break. Spend some time doing something just for you. You deserve that my love. And maybe if you have time, you could write me a bluey while you are there. I love you and miss you so much!

All My Love Bernie,

You’re big Macho Army Medic x

Serena’s not sure if to think that Bernie is something else or just incredible. She turns the letter over, only then noticing the code and the website for the MacDonalds hotel chain, Bernie is in serious trouble once she gets home Serena knows how expensive them places are.

She knows Bernie is right though, that she does need to do this for herself so that she can keep being what she needs both for herself and everyone else who relies on her. She loads up her laptop then, decides to look at where she might like to go off to for a few days. In the end she settles on the New Forest, the hotel looks beautiful and serene. There are walks she can go on and a museum or two she can visit if it takes her fancy. There is also a spa which she can guarantee she will visit at least once on her stay.

She looks at the availability of rooms before composing and email to Hansen. She doesn’t go into detail just tells him she’s got holiday she needs to use up and that even with taking these few days off she’ll still have more to use. That she understands it’s short notice but that she can be flexible if he could please let her know which of the dates she sent him work best for the hospital.

For the rest of the day Serena decides to take a mini break of sorts until she can get away for a few days. She ignores the housework that she should really do, forgets about the work emails she had said she’d look over from home having not had the time during her last few shifts and instead makes the day about herself. She allows herself a long hot soak in the bath, with bubbles and candles and even a face mask. She uses a couple of the microwave meals for dinner, instead of cooking, one of the few Jason will eat but she knows it’s easy enough to add more to the shopping list. When Jason asks if she’ll watch mastermind with him, she politely declines, explains that she’s tired and that she wants to settle down for the night but reminding him he’s free to stay up as late as he likes and that he just needs to make sure he turns off the telly and all of the lights when he goes to bed. There must be something about giving her body what she needs because it doesn’t take her more than five minutes after crawling into bed to be sound asleep.

[joylinda-hawks]

Another day of my thoughts. I am left here with the problem of historical sensitivity and its impact on the life of a particular person. I know, some people may accuse me of being a foreigner, what do I know about historical sensitivity in CN. I will answer, little, maybe even very little. But I will explain why I raise this issue. I am a citizen of a country in which there is also a great historical sensitivity, especially related to the events of World War II. I know how my fellow citizens behave when someone does not have such historical sensitivity, does not know historical facts. Some people react with hatred and make threats. I don't think there is any difference in people's behavior in the case of historical sensitivity based on country of origin. That's why I allowed myself to present it here. Looking at the career of ZZH, we notice that it is focused on his homeland, the behavior of ZZH has always shown us that he loves his country and is a deep patriot. He is an exemplary citizen, you cannot find any moral scandals in his life, or he is not involved in uncertain business. He leads an exemplary life, respects and loves his mother and the two make a beautiful family. His mother instilled in him the best values, his behavior, statements testified to this. He was one of the few people who had a clean slate - so the CA/PA, preparing to attack him, had to create something that would sink him and cause people to turn away from him. They will point fingers at him. CA/PA chose the most vicious basis for attack, while preventing ZZH from any attempts to defend itself. To be sure of victory, she reached out to the people in his agency who helped CA/PA carry out her plan. Not much was enough, false articles on the web and in newspapers that were provided by foreign media, and depriving ZZH of reliable defense in the media, including social media. 8.13, ZZH was executed without any legal grounds, its existence was deleted from programs, series, films, it was forbidden to talk about it, and if it was mentioned only in a negative context. Paid water armies made a spiral of hatred, ordinary people accepted these slanderous messages as truth. Just a few days ago, ZZH was worshiped as a talented young actor, then in an instant his name and surname were trampled, mixed with mud. Any CN citizen could spit in his face and call him tra1tor because that's what the media called him. Are you wondering why ZZH said in an interview that he was afraid to leave the house when he was attacked? A young, self-confident man decided to go into hiding. What could be the reason. Maybe he was afraid for his life, maybe he could have been afraid that when he went out on the street, he might not only be spat on or beaten up and no one would help him, but it could not be ruled out that some unbalanced person would try to take his life. Some people are unpredictable, especially if they are obsessed with something. And ZZH could be a good target. We know from history well-known people who were deprived of their lives by unbalanced people. I know it's cruel, but that's the reality. Those few months when ZZH and his mother were alone, without any chance for any help, must have been terrible for them. Describing a person with the word tra1tor is a big deal. Especially when it comes to a famous person. Few people will bother to check if this allegation is true, they will just take it for granted, especially since CA/PA made it clear at the outset that ZZH was banned by the state. And that wasn't true. ZZH can start functioning normally in society once the court clears his name, when it is clearly and clearly published, when his access to social media is restored in his own country. It may still be a long time before this happens, and even if ZZH clears his name, there will certainly be people who will think that he bribed the judges and is not really a patriot. Some people's mentality cannot be changed. Next part - tomorrow.

[nataliawrites]

Crowning Glory // Max Verstappen

Max Verstappen x Princess of the Netherlands!Reader

Max prided himself on his control. His job depended on it. His life depended on it.

Even when he briefly lost control — and he really doesn’t regret the infamous pushing incident — it was always of his own doing.

Until you came into his life.

A knock on the door to his driver’s room started Max. It was race day and it was rare for him to be bothered when he was preparing on his own. A home race meant that everything was heightened. The adrenaline thrummed deeper. The cheers were louder. The Orange Army was nearly blinding in the stands.

“Max,” the familiar voice of his team principal filtered through the door after another knock, “I have someone who would like to meet you.”

“Can’t we do this later, Christian? I know you know my routine by now.”

“Just open the door. I think you’ll be happy to change up your routine this once.”

Max heaved himself off of the small couch and went to send the Brit and whatever guest he brought along away so he could continue to focus on the race in peace.

He opened the door, prepared to shut it in a second, but stopped short when he saw who was standing next to Christian. The guest in question was wearing an elegant summer dress in a bright shade of orange sure to be similarly reflected upon thousands of Dutch fans around the track.

She was also the subject of his long running teenage crush. A crush he thought he had gotten over until he was staring open-mouthed at her right in front of him.

“Hallo,” she takes the initiative to greet Max considering he was still making somewhat of a fool of himself in front of her, “it is a pleasure to finally meet you.”

Max bends into a hasty bow, unsure of the protocols for meeting someone he had only ever seen on the news and the pages of magazines, “Your Royal Highness, I am so sorry.”

“Don’t be. I’m the one intruding on your preparations,” she waves his apology off. “I just wanted to stop by and wish you luck before the race. It is my first time attending a Grand Prix in-person but my family and I have been fans for a long time and started following your career when news of an incredibly promising young driver racing under the Dutch flag first made its rounds.”

“I-thank you, Your Highness. I am honored.”

“Well, I will leave you to continue getting ready. Mr. Horner promised me a tour of the garage. Good luck again, you do your country proud.”

Max remained frozen in the doorway, watching the heir apparent walk away with the Red Bull team principal, bodyguards seemingly materializing from the walls to surround her as they made their way into a public area of the F1 Holzhaus.

Max managed to get you out of his head once the race began. The second he got into the car, nothing else mattered. Everything beyond the track ceased to exist as he pushed the car to its limit and passed the chequered flag for yet another home win.

But when it came time for the podium ceremony, there you were front and center, ready to present trophies to the three drivers. Max swore he could feel a spark travel up his arm as your fingers brushed his while handing him the trophy. “Well done! Tonight we celebrate.”

Turns out the celebration was a far cry from the ones he was used to. Instead of a club, Red Bull team members were invited to join you at a nearby royal residence for dinner and drinks. Max listened to you explain why from his seat next to you at the long dining table as you waited for the first course to be served, pleasantly warm from champagne already, “I used to love going out. Tried to have a typical university experience, you know? But I was almost kidnapped last year and despite security stepping in on time I have been forbidden from doing so again. Too much risk.”

And there it was. The reminder of just how different your lives wore despite both being Dutch public figures. One day Max will retire and can live a relatively normal life if he so chooses while you will ascend to the throne and lead a kingdom.

He didn’t exactly pity you — royalty was royalty at the end of the day — but he did sympathize with the constraints that it placed on you and how you lived your life.

Max clears his throat, “I’m not exactly sure how this whole thing works but I would love to take you out.”

He waits for a response and nervously cards his fingers through his hair when he doesn’t get one, “only if you want, of course, Your Highness. I have a sailing boat on the coast not too far from here. It’s not a yacht, though you are welcome to join me on that too if you are ever in Monaco, but I promise that it is peaceful and private. I just thought you would like to get away from all this,” he gestures around the room of mingling Red Bull staff and dignitaries, “for a little.”

“Are you sure?”

“Hhmm?”

You ask again, “are you sure?”

“Sure about what? That I would like to take you on a date? Quite sure.”

“Any privacy we have won’t last long.”

“I know.”

“The press can be brutal.”

“So I’ve learned. I don’t particularly care.”

“There are rules …”

“I will learn them.”

“Okay,” you finally allow a shy smile.

“Okay?”

“Yes, Max. I would love to go on a date with you.”

“Really?”

“Yes. But if we are to date you have to call me Y/N.”

“Gladly … Y/N,” he tests out how your name feels on his lips for the first time.

“Oh and you will have to meet my parents.”

That gives him pause. “Your parents?”

“Yes.”

“As in the King and Queen.”

“Yes.”

“I have to meet the King and Queen?”

“It’s all still a bit old fashioned, I’m afraid. We will need their approval.”

You’re quick to reassure him when you see how quickly the color drains from his face, “my father is a big Ferrari fan but he has a soft spot for you. You need not worry.”

“Your father is the King.”

“Yes.”

“My King.”

“Yes. And he’s my father. You’ll have to get used to it if you see us going anywhere.”

“Right. Of course …” A few seconds pass. “But he’s the King.”

You pat his hand where it’s splayed on the table, “you’ll be fine.”