#like i have many concepts that i’ve got a lot of room for

[mattluvr]

CEO!matt, a concept.

💸 what if. . . matt sturniolo was CEO of a company?

at the grand old age of 21, matt sturniolo is the world’s youngest CEO, having inherited his father’s finance company in light of his untimely retirement.

he doesn’t complain; matt has a team of seniors to make his decisions for him, the only thing he insists on chipping in on every year being the annual christmas party. which, naturally, is infamous. it’s what most of the company’s budget gets blown on after all.

in his third year as the owner of sturniolo finances, income in the billions as the company thrived, matt threw the biggest, loudest, craziest christmas party of what he was sure was history, the entire floor of a fancy hotel packed with employees.

and some stragglers. including you.

your brother had dragged you along, overly excited about the first sturniolo finances christmas party of his employment, and had swiftly got drunk and left you to stand like a lemon by the drinks table. which is where matt found you, words slurring from one too many tequila shots, appointing you his newest secretary. one of the only decisions he’s made for the company.

and today is the day you start your new role, which matt obviously can’t remember offering you, but lets you sit at the desk outside his office, head still pounding from the party over a week ago.

“are you sure i gave you this job?” he mutters, running a hand over his face. you nod, tucking a loose strand of your bun behind your ear, hoping you’re still retaining the sophisticated look you tried to construct this morning when getting ready.

“mhm. at that party.”

“yeah, but i did a lot of things at that party.” matt says with a grimace. “like swing from a chandelier…”

you laugh, reminded of the last image you saw before you left the hotel, supporting a tipsy brother on your hip, matt dangling from the structure above you with one arm, hair messy and shirt loose. “that was pretty funny. and impressive.”

“thank you. but not the point.” he frowns, folding his arms, trying to act serious. “i don’t even think i’ve given you any paperwork to fill out. shit, i’ve not even interviewed you.”

“well, you’re the CEO, aren’t you? you can just interview me now.”

matt furrows his brows again, eyes darting to his office behind him and eventually gives in, opening the door for you with a shrug. he often doesn’t interact with any of the people he employs, the whole process too mindnumbingly boring for him, but is now starting to realise why drunk him even offered you a job position in the first place.

you’re fucking unreal, mini skirt a tad too short, shirt just slightly too low cut, and matt is drinking it all in. professionally. of course. he clears his throat, dragging his eyes back to your face with a soft blush as he gestures to the empty room. “take a seat.”

you smirk at him over your shoulder, sitting down heavily in the armchair facing matt’s desk, your skirt riding up as you cross your legs, thighs on display. matt rolls his neck; you’re trying to kill him, he swears. he follows you over nevertheless, sitting opposite and offering you a polite smile.

when your dimple shows in reply, matt doesn’t even think about the interview. “yeah, i don’t know why i did all that. you’re hired.”

“but…?”

matt holds out a hand. he knows this is a bad decision, hiring based off of physical attraction only, but that’s the last thing on his mind. he just wants you out before he blows a load in his underwear, semi poking him each time he shifts.

“you can start tomorrow morning, 8am. i’ll email the paperwork down to reception.”

shocked, you slowly stand up, and matt leans forwards, concealing a groan into his hand. “uh, well, thanks. i’ll… see you tomorrow.”

“mhm.” matt nods, grinning weakly. “yep, tomorrow.”

and then you’re gone, leaving matt alone with his thoughts. fuck. hiring you? he’s screwed.

taglist. . . ( @mattslolita, @aelinslegend, @chrissturniolossidehoe, @mattbrainrot, @conspiracy-ash, @emely9274 ) is open!

[chryzure-archive]

i literally can’t imagine becoming an author and not brainstorming my book ideas for YEARS. sorry, i simply want everything to be a well-constructed web

[lunajay33]

Secrets🕊️

Summary: You’re Sam and Deans sister and have been seeing Castiel behind their back, but what happens when you need to come clean when you find out yours and Castiels time together creates a little surprise

Pairing: Castiel x f!reader Winchester

•Masterlist•

Holding the pregnancy test in my hand felt surreal, if someone told me a few years ago that I’d be back to hunting monsters with my family and pregnant with an angels child I’d think they were crazy, but here I am in another motel bathroom, my brothers in the other room working on a case as I’m having a whirl wind of thoughts over take me

After some time I take a deep breath and put the test in my back pocket coming to terms that this secret Cas and I have kept under wraps needs to come to light, sneaking around always made things between us more fun but we also wanted to be able to just be together without the stress of Dean trying to kill Cas or their disapproval, plus with how many enemies were after Castiel it just felt safer to keep it a secret, a year long secret

I walk out of the bathroom fiddling with my hands sitting on one of the two beds

“Hey you okay kiddo?” Dean always called me that, he always sees me as that little sister who looked up to him when dad was away, which makes me feel even more guilty

“Can I talk to you guys for a moment” they instantly got up from the small motel table in the corner and sat on the bed across from me giving me their full attention

I never thought I’d be scared to tell my brothers something, Sammy was always the sweetest little brother and Dean always tried to protect me like it was his only mission in life

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” Sam asked, worry written all over his face

“I’ve been keeping a secret from you guys just please promise me you won’t be disappointed in me” my chest was heavy and my stomach is bubbles of anxiety

“What did you do” Dean groaned but I know he’s just worried

I pulled out the pregnancy test and handed it over they immediately went wide eyed

“Is this real?”

“How the hell did this happen I don’t even ever see you flirt with anyone at bars, you don’t even look to the side of anyone” Dean sighed

“I don’t just go around hooking up”

“Then what? Is this the new Jesus?”

“Yeah about that…….”

“You can’t be serious” Sam said shocked

“What no it’s not immaculate conception, we wanted to wait and ease you both into this, we wanted it to just be the two of us for a bit but now with the pregnancy I can’t not tell you both any longer”

“We? You’ve been seeing someone?” Dean asked confused

“It’s C….” Before I could confess Castiel himself popped into the room making a bee line right to me, not even acknowledging Sam and deans questions as to why he was there, and kneeled infront of me holding my hands that were in my lap

“Y/n you haven’t answer my calls for almost 2 days do you know how worried I’ve been” he stated with those puppy eyes I feel in love with

“I’m sorry I’ve had a lot on my mind, there’s something I need to tell you too” whenever I was with cas it felt like we were in our own little bubble of love, completely forgetting why I was sitting on this bed in the first place

“You can’t be serious, you and Castiel? How long has this been a thing?” Dean said standing up now

“It’s been a year Dean, she is the love of my life, it was meant to be” Cas said matter o factly as he stood

“A year? You’ve been sneaking around for a year? How the hell did we not notice this Sam?” Sam just shrugged his shoulders

“And now you’re pregnant with an angel how is this going to end?”

Of course Dean had to be the one to blurt it out, Castiel turned to me wide eyed looking at my still flat belly no sign of a bump

“You’re with child? With my child?” He asked bewildered as he held my hips

“Are you mad?”

“Of course not, I love you and I’ll love this baby, you’re all my family now” I laid my head against his chest letting his warmth calm me down as he held me

“It’s going to be crazy to get use to but congrats guys” Sam said patting my back

“You better watch over them Cas or I swear to god” Dean groaned as he took a sip of his beer

After 8 and a half months it was time to pop, laying in a hospital bed with Sam and Dean sitting on the couch by my bed anxiously, of all the monsters we’ve fought this seemed to trump them all

“DEAN WHERES CAS?” I scream as another painful contraction courses through me

“I don’t know honey, I’ve been calling and praying” he says panicked as he gets up and dabs a cool cloth against my face

“I’m scared, what if the baby is an angel and it rips me apart, what if Cas can’t save me and I don’t get to say goodbye”

“Hey don’t talk like that you’re going to get through this, you’re a Winchester” Sam said trying to be supportive

A wosh of wings sounds through the room and Castiel is there by my side

“I’m sorry some demons had me I got here as fast as I could”

“It hurts so much, make it stop” I whimper as he presses two of his fingers to my forehead immediately easing my pain

“The child is already stronger than I had hoped”

“What does that mean? Will she be okay?” Dean asked his eye brows pinching together

“I will have to dull its powers until she has given birth” he worked his magic and the pressure lessened before I felt the urge to push

Everything happened so fast, the doctor came rushing in helping guide me as cas kept dulling my senses to get rid of the pain when a cry brought me back to reality

“Congratulations on a beautiful baby girl” the doctor said laying her in my chest before giving us space

Sam Dean and Castiel surrounded my bed all looking at this little bundle of bright life, she opened her eyes and all that emitted was bright white and blue light, like when cas would go supernova

“She’s beautiful, she looks just like you”

“Except for the glowing orbs” Dean stated

“Yes well that will fade over time as she grows but she will still have powers”

“What’s should we name her cas?”

“She looks like a Pam” I couldn’t help but laugh at such a name for a baby

“How about Samantha, and maybe the next one could be after Dean” I smile up at my two brothers who had tears in their eyes

“I think it’s perfect, you’re perfect”

“You did good sis, we’re proud of you”

[vigilskeep]

Any guesses on the Veilguard companions?

some suggestions i think are worth placing bets on

an antivan crow (the concept art and short story presence PLUS what’s been said about each companion representing “iconic factions”, i think this is a dead certainty). natural choice for a rogue, but the concept of crow mages has been being set up in the novels for a while

again judging by concept art presence, a nevarran mortalitasi necromancer OR a nevarran possessed skeleton type as our friendly spirit companion

a grey warden, probably from the anderfels/weisshaupt itself. always has been one and there is no faction more iconic, right? i believe there’s ancient voice acting snippets suggesting it’s some guy called davrin

considering the collective way that concept art captions, absolution, and apparently three separate stories from tevinter nights were like “hey did you know the LORDS OF FORTUNE are a thing? the lords of fortune from RIVAIN”, one of these. my guess is that they thought about going felicisima armada for a rivaini companion but didn’t want to just rehash isabela’s pirate gimmick so they made something up and they’ve been trying to set it up really hard

i’ve seen people suggest scout harding is being pushed forward for the role and i guess the inquisition is an iconic faction now?

otherwise, couldn’t really say for a dwarven companion. iconic factions might include the legion of the dead, the carta... the tevinter ambassadoria is a bit more niche but would make sense for a northern companion. i could also see them simply making one of the other suggestions a dwarf, the grey warden is definitely a strong contender since it’s always been a human man and it’d be nice to mix it up

speculatively, i’d like to see a templar. you can’t deny it’s an iconic faction. either a southern templar trying to take up a new cause after everything crashed and burned or a vint templar with a completely new perspective to what we’re used to would be a lot of fun. i would actually love to play this character if it’s not a companion lmao

another obvious faction is the dalish. it’s been a while since we had one, we’ve never had a non-mage dalish companion so there’s a lot of room for a fresh approach, they’re so plot relevant right now. someone’s got to give us that good good exposition! and i am so sick of it not being the dalish themselves 😭

i would be very surprised if there’s no qunari or tal-vashoth. i don’t have many strong ideas, i would just expect it to be a rogue or a mage, since warriors are all we’ve had

all that obviously tallies up to more than seven so we have to pick and choose—and i’m sure there’s plenty of surprises i haven’t thought of—but those would be my instincts! i’ve been thinking about this for a while haha. i’d be excited for any of these, just please, please hand over the romanceable dwarf. i know you’ve got them bioware

[mamapyjama]

I woke up thinking about vestige Katsuki casually having a chat with vestige All Might. WHAT THE DUCK was happening there if not something seriously fruity and why did we not circle back to it once we’d got over the fact that his heart had exploded?!

What must non-bkdks think is going on? I’m not even sure if we’ve fully discussed what is going on? Whyyy would he have a vestige if he doesn’t have OFA?

It’s not ghosts because a) ghosts haven’t been introduced as a concept in-universe and b) AM is there and he ain’t dead.

SO WHAT IS HAPPENING? Did we just totally overlook the fact that Hori made it canon that Katsuki either has OFA or just has access to the vestige realm for reasons unknown?

Also why is he fully clothed and able to speak, when poor Izuku spent every vestige scene nude and mute? And why is the background white not black? Vestige purgatory? A vestige waiting room?

I feel like when you suddenly realise you haven’t studied and the class has all moved on to new topics and you’ve somehow missed a key, fundamental part of how The Whole Thing works.

If anyone has meta on this please point me towards it because at this point I’m—

Edit 19.01.23: before anyone else tells me he had OFA in the movie, I know. 😙 I wrote a whole ‘nother bit about it here:

Edit 21.01.23: added All Might’s vestige for reference. ✌️

[carolmunson]

come get me, come love me (older!modern!eddie)

part four of who knows how many. orange colored sky set list surprise chapter, bitches. after we got rained out at the park, we finish our date at eddie's apartment in prospect heights, things heat up despite the storm. inspired by @loveshotzz older steve series: all i really want is you (see if you can spot the easter egg in this lil chapter.) tw: age gappy (reader is late 20s/early 30s, eddie is late 30s/early 40s), kissin', reader wears eddie's clothes but there's no body description songspiration: lovesick | banks

The door to the building is wedged between a restaurant and a pet store on a long street of bars and places to eat. You’ve been down here plenty of times, the ramen spot closer to the end of the street is to die for, and one of the ice cream shops is the best in this part of the city. He unhooks the carabiner from his belt loop and hurries the key into the heavy iron grate door before bumbling into the wooden one behind it.

“Whew!” he says when you both get inside, wiping some of the rain from his face. He leads you up the stairs to the second floor and down the small hallways. “Both doors are mine, but this is the front door,” he smiles, kicking his shoes off at the mat off to the side. You do the same. “Sorry if it’s a little messy,” he says, keys jingling in his hands while he opens the door, “Maid took the week off.”

You snort when you follow him inside but he looks at you over his shoulder, “No, seriously. It was her son’s birthday on Sunday so I told her not to come in. I try to keep it together for the most part, but – I don’t know, Sasha gives it a special somethin’ I’ve never been able to do on my own.” 

It’s a little stunning, his apartment. And when you think a little you mean a lot, a floor and a half with a metal spiral staircase that separates the open concept kitchen from the living room, dining room hybrid on the wall closest to the door. Oak floors that look newly shined, a big and deep sectional closing off the space so a dining room table and chairs could be placed on the other half of the room. Even the exposed brick on the back wall looks like it was just put in. His hand rests on your back while he guides you up to the next floor, the metal cold on your bare feet, shivering against the coolness of the central air whooshing through the place.

“If you want I can give you something comfy to wear and throw your stuff in the laundry,” he says when you make it to the top, opening the door, “Bathroom is just around the corner.”

“You have in-unit laundry?” you ask with a breathy sigh.

“I know, I’m so dreamy,” he winks, “You gonna take me up on my offer? There’s towels in there already.”

“Sure,” you take off the linen shirt and pass it to him, “I’ll be right out.” 

The bathroom is small-ish but well put together, it looks like he had it gutted and redone to be more modern, navy blue marbled tiles in the shower with gunmetal hardware – he has an eye, you figure. You open one of the cabinets to see dark blue towels folded and fluffy, waiting for you. The image that meets you in the mirror makes you frown when you wipe your face off – a wet rat with mascara running down her cheeks, blush and lipgloss long faded. You sigh and do your best to wash off your face with what you can, peeling off your wet layers and keeping them on the counter.

“Wanna swap?” he asks while knocking on the door. You ball up your wet clothes, holding the towel up against your chest while you open the door a sliver, easing them out into his waiting hand. You can’t see him but you hear his little snicker while he pushes the dry clothes into your open palm. “You got it?” he asks. “I got it,” you say, balancing them into the room and shutting the door quietly. “Let me know if you want something different,” he offers. You shake out the folded clothes, big black sweatpants and an old, soft band tee. Corroded Coffin spelled out in jagged letters on the front with a marionette dangling from a demonic clawed hand on the back. “This is fine,” you say, slipping them on, “What band is this?”  “It’s mine,” he says. You can hear his footsteps walking away from the bathroom while he talks, “Told you I was a rockstar!” 

When you’re fully changed into his sweats and shirt you emerge from the bathroom, padding out of the tiles in socked feet. You can hear him downstairs putting the leftover snacks into the fridge and freezer from the cooler. Like the sleuth you are, you take in what you can to learn more about him, inching down the short hallway and peeking into one of the rooms. His bedroom looks like a bachelor’s – not in the way a guy in their twenties would have it, but it’s clear he wants to semi impress whoever he’s taking home. You admire the coziness of the space: wrought iron bed frame – likely a vintage thrift find or thousands of dollars. Dark bedding with knit blankets at the foot of the mattress, a dark green rug under the bed atop the oak floors. His walls are littered with framed photos of him with people you don’t know. Show posters under glass from the 90s, some vintage posters from the 70s. It smells like cedar and a nice hotel lobby candle, manly and unassuming. His dressers are a deep walnut wood that compliment the floors with ease – he did say he had an eye for color. Your eyes wander, looking towards the doors of a walk in closet, more art on the walls. A beautiful baroque style mirror that looks straight out of a gothic mansion leaning heavy in the corner. However, you feel heat rush to your cheeks when, slightly hidden, you see two sets of handcuffs dangling off a small hook by one of his bedside tables. 

“Find anything interesting, Nancy Drew?” 

His low rumble makes you jump, turning to see him leaning against the wall of the hallway with his arms crossed. You breathe out a nervous giggle, “Sorry, was just seeing the place. Your room is nice.” 

“Thank you,” he nods, “I just got it redecorated — got a friend who's a killer interior designer.” 

“I bet you got a friend for everything,” you say, meeting him in the hallway where he opens the door to the next room. It's dark, covered in squares of soundproofing foam. A few different guitars hang from the wall above a big desk with three monitors, computer below whirring in a low hum. 

“I do,” he says, “We exchange a lot of favors. This is where I work from for the most part. Laundry is just a closet next to the bathroom. And uh…you saw downstairs, so I guess that’s the tour.” “It’s a really, really nice spot,” you confess, heading back down the spiral staircase, “Super good location, too.” “It wasn’t when I landed here in ‘04,” he leans on the railing at the top step looking down at you, “But you were prob’ly learnin’ fractions back then.” “You’re annoying,” you cross your arms at the bottom stairs staring up at his boyish grin, he winks again – your legs are jello. “I’m gonna change real quick, I made you a cup of coffee – there’s creamer in the fridge if you need it,” he calls out before disappearing from the staircase to change. You go to the fridge where there’s a litter of polaroids stuck to the stainless steel – most of them of a German Shepherd puppy posed with him and another guy, clean cut, nothing like Eddie.

“Whose the cute dog?” you ask when you hear his footsteps against the metal.   

“Oh that’s my nephew, his name’s Bandit,” he says, pulling a shirt over his head while he makes it back down the spiral staircase. Your eyes linger on the tattoos on his chest, trailing down his obliques, “The dog, not the guy in the pictures.” “I figured.” “That’s my buddy Steve, he’s like my brother. I was out in Chicago for a couple months helping him get his shit back on track – we got him a puppy to keep his mind off things,” Eddie snorts, watching you pour some cream into your mug. You offer to do so for him but he shakes his head, taking it from you to put back in the fridge. “Is he okay?” 

“His wife just passed away,” he says quietly. You offer him a sad face and he shrugs in that ‘What can you do?’ kind of way that guys do when they don’t know what to say, “You clothes should be all set in an hour or so.” “Oh, and then you’re kickin’ me out?” you tease, drinking your coffee up against the counter. He smirks, running his palm over the scratchy scruff of his chin and jaw. “Nah, not at all. You can stay as long as you want,” he shakes his head, his curls already starting to dry around his face – big and defined now with the summer rain, “Just didn’t think you’d wanna hang out at some old man’s house all afternoon.” “See, I was thinking how fun it would be to clear you out of your Raisin Bran,” you smirk against the lip of your mug while he makes his way towards you. He crosses his arms, taking slow steps before he’s got you caged in against the counter. If your nose knows, he definitely spritzed a spray of his cologne before he made it back down stairs – dark, spicy sandalwood enveloping you with a whisper of laundry detergent. 

“I’m almost out, actually,” he grins, lids half closing while he looks down into your eyes, “But it’s okay, I have an unopened box of Kashi multigrain in one of these cabinets somewhere.” He waits for your next dig, knowing it’s coming by the quirk in your lips – you’re full of them today. “Gotta keep that blood pressure in check,” you tease again, trying to keep yourself from smiling as he leans in, a deep short chuckle coming from his throat. You little brat, it sounds like.  “It’s really good for your heart health, actually,” he corrects, brows raising a little. A smirk flits across his full lips when he watches you falter a little, your pretty eyes glazing and glassy while he looms over you. His voice gets low and smoky, just like his cologne, “Maybe you could learn a thing or two from me, hm?”

You shut your eyes, biting the inside of your cheek – you can’t show him how good he’s getting you right now, not so soon, “Oh totally, like what the best pill cases are for my future arthritis medicine.” He laughs, the soft crows feet around his eyes crinkling with it. It’s a barking laugh, quick and sharp – you’re sharp, he likes that, “I can definitely do that.” His nose brushes yours and you brace yourself for what’s coming next, ready to feel him kiss you. To feel the buzz of his hands on you like how they were when he led you inside, when he put his hand on your hands in the park. His lips ghost above yours, breath fanning over your face while you take a final one before the inevitable. “You’ve got a quick mouth there, kleine,” he says smoothly. He reaches around you to grab his own mug of coffee, taking a long sip. Eddie catches the miniscule drop of your shoulders, a silent win goes off in his head. You want him to kiss you so bad and that makes him feel like a million bucks – fuck that – a trillion bucks. 

He steps back, taking a sip of his coffee while the apartment gets a little darker, the storm rolling further in. “What’s ‘kleine’?” you ask, trying to regain your breath. He smiles, walking over to the dimmer on the wall and easing the lights up to a warm glow. “It’s German,” he says, looking over his shoulder, “Loosely translates to baby girl.” “You know German?” you ask, trying to not let the translation send you directly into outer space. You watch him with his coffee cup make his way over to the sectional in his open living space. It’s big and inviting, covered in a sea of throws that it looks like he collected over the years. He plops down, tilting his head toward the seat next to him to encourage you over. “I did an extended run of Cabaret in Jersey like – pffft, I don’t know, a million years ago,” he shrugs, putting his coffee on the table in front of him while you plop yourself down on the deep, squishy cushions. You swallow hard when a waft of his cologne hits you again, trying your hardest not to crawl onto his lap to take him in. 

“Saw the show in ‘98 with Alan Cumming, lost my mind – I mean, really transformative for an 18 year old I guess. Years later when I moved out here I saw there was auditions for it and just got knee deep in that shit, taught myself German and everything to make it sound more authentic,” he looks forward wistfully while he recounts the story, smiling at you when he comes back to himself, “Was very helpful when I went to Berlin a few years later.” 

“Oh, how was that?” you ask, “Did you have fun? I’ve never been to Europe.” 

“I’d tell you about all the fun I had if I could remember it,” he grins,flopping his arm up over the back of the couch, beckoning you closer. “C’mere, honey,” he says, the quiet of his voice putting you at ease. You scooch closer to him while he pulls one of the blankets from the end of the chaise cushion and wraps it around your shoulders. With the blanket comes his arm with no hesitation, his hand resting on your shoulder and then down to your waist. “I like to marathon the Twilight Zone when it gets shitty out like this,” he explains, “You down?” 

“Yeah,” you smile, “I’m down. I’ve seen a couple handfuls of episodes.” 

“Yeah? What’s your favorite?” “Hm,” you think, “I think The Monsters are Due on Maple Street. It’s the first one I ever watched.”  “We’ll start with that one, then.” He operates everything from an app on his phone, it surprises you that you’re not as techy as he seems to be. It’s not long before the episode starts and his hold on you becomes more intentional, more cuddly. Thunder booms overhead when the episode gets more intense, making you embarrassed when you jolt. He giggles at you, pulling you in closer – a soft whisper of I got you leaves his lips, you barely hear it.  You snuggle up together while the episode ends and another starts, you tilt your head up toward him, “What’s your favorite?”

“Ooh, good question,” he smirks, “I think The Hitchhiker – it was the first one my uncle ever showed me when I started living with him. Scared the shit out of me.”

“You? Scared?” you quirk a brow, looking down at the way he holds you – assured, confident, “You don’t seem like someone who gets scared very often.” 

“That’s the old age, peach,” he chuckles out, low and rumbly, “All that Raisin Bran, really switches up that fight or flight.” When you laugh he looks down at you, eyes sparkling, noses close together, “Is that funny?” “Yeah, it’s funny,” you say back just as quietly, adjusting yourself a little closer to him, “You’re funny.” His eyes flick down to your lips and then back up, you feel his hand spread out on your waist while he leans in closer, pressing up against you. 

“Just funny?” he asks, watching your eyes flutter closed and then open. His lips ghosting over yours, edge of his bottom lip skating over the curve of your cupid’s bow. 

“No, not just…” you breathe, too intoxicated by how close he is, how his lips and breath tease you. His hand glides up from your waist, trailing a fingertip up the side of your neck, stopping under your chin. You shiver at the touch, goosebumps flooding your arms and legs, belly flipping in somersaults. He tilts your head up, his cocking slowly to the side while his watches for your reaction.

“The show’s about to come back on.” The words are soft and quiet when they leave your mouth, your last ditch effort while fear and excitement roar in your ears. His eyes feel like magnets that you’re constantly pulled too, locking with them while he leans in.

“It’s a boring episode,” he grumbles out quietly from behind a smirk, eyes closing while the tip of your nose is brushed with his. He teases one last time before his lips press warmly against yours, parting slightly to capture them.  You breathe in sharp through your nose, butterflies fluttering and slamming against your chest for release. His hands come up to lay themselves against your cheeks, now hot with excitement while they find home behind your head and neck. He’s fiending for you in the insatiable way he’s felt before, the way a man fiends for a woman.

His leads, taking control of the way the kiss moves with each tilt of his head, changing the intensity each time he breaks away to breathe and come back to you. His lips are full and plush, a soft pink that works for him, it’s almost innocent, when you know he’s anything but. He comes in again, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth, biting down gently to encourage you to let his tongue slide into your mouth. 

His hands greedily pull you in by the waist now that your tongues are brushing, wrapping up together with no space between. You whimper into it, unable to keep the butterflies in your stomach at bay with his other hand roams down your back. You feel his lips stretch into a smile against yours, a growl of a chuckle coming out of his chest when he pulls away again. More kisses, soft and sweet with eyes closed, noses nuzzling before lips meet again. You climb onto his lap, he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around you – tight and protective. You lead this time, a hand coming up to cup his jaw while you kiss, taking his bottom lip between your teeth this time. He relents, grip softening on you, fingertips grazing the tops of your thighs over the material of his sweatpants. Your hips roll forward over his and he pulls away.

“Steady now, sugar,” he warns, looking up at you with heavy lidded brown eyes, “I don’t fuck on the first date.” You pout a little, he likes that face, “You got some kind of moral code, old man?” “M’just not that kind of girl, baby,” he shrugs lightly, taking your hand and pressing soft kisses to your fingertips. His eyes don’t leave yours, big and innocent – like he’s challenging you, “Gotta keep you wantin’ more of me.” You can’t imagine not wanting more of him, no matter how much he gave you. “Then how come you kiss me like that?” you ask, his lips still leaving pillowy kisses against your fingers, “Like you’re hungry for me?” 

“Oh, I am hungry, peach,” he smirks, tongue sliding out and gliding up the space between your first and middle finger. The tip of his tongue flicks the pads of them at the top, before taking just your fingertips into his mouth for a moment – hot and wet. Your mouth hangs open, drool collecting under your tongue at the feeling – imagining it happening exactly where you both want it to. “I think we should cut into that icebox cake,” he offers with a smile, like he didn’t just tease you into complete stupidity, “That’ll solve my problem.” He kisses your cheek as he guides you off his lap to get up, feeling lucky that he put on boxer briefs to keep his now painful erection contained – though his sweatpants left little to the imagination. Eddie comes back with two plates with heaping slices of dessert, passing you a spoon while you try your best to calm down. 

“You okay?” he asks sweetly, brushing a stray hair out of your face. You nod, shoving a bite into your mouth so you don’t scream over his gentle touch and soft eyes. So you don’t yell and stomp through his living room about how bad you want him to bring you upstairs and eat you out. So you don’t tell him about the butterflies. You eat, watch, and talk – getting stories on his tattoos, you tell him about how you just started living alone, he tells you all the best spots to get furniture. You share soft little kisses while cuddled under blankets, laughing at the bad special effects and talking about the good special effects for the 60s as the episodes continue on. You fall asleep on his shoulder and he lets out a big deep breath – he likes that you already feel comfortable enough to do so. He swallows hard, doing his best to settle down his own butterflies. 

prev | next

[sophiasharp]

Man I don’t think we talk enough about the fact that in the wildly accepted fanon, the ghouls were like. Creatures pulled out of a primitive society full of bloodshed and danger. These guys were just chilling in hell, fighting for their lives every day like you do, and now they’re on Earth, expected to figure out Earth manners and technology and how the fuck anything works. I’ve been thinking about it, though. Let me walk you through my thoughts

THE GHOULS TRANSITIONING TO LIFE ON EARTH

Aether

- Bull in a China shop

- Big man has gotten very good at controlling his strength over the years. That control was NOT there at first.

- Bumped into fucking everything too. Dude’s used to being in the wide open abyss the quintessence ghouls occupy. Suddenly having to learn special awareness was. A hurdle of his.

- He broke a lot of tables. And chairs. And plates. Mugs. One Sibling’s arm. He got there eventually but Omega had to walk him through how fragile everything on Earth is compared to their ghoulish strength.

- Part of his habit of jumping up and down also comes from how different Earth is to his home environment. You mean you can go up and then you’ll come down again? Automatically? What a concept! Gravity is so much fun!

- Still gets some sense of novelty out of electric lighting. Being able to just. Make the dark go away? Whenever? Amazing.

- He keeps a night light on in his room. The last person to make fun of him for it mysteriously ended up with 3rd degree burns.

Dewdrop:

- Skittish little fucker

- Kinda like that one video of those weird crabs reacting to the diver

- Dew, poking at a toaster: Friend? Friend? Friend? Big noise! Scared! Scared! Scared! Scared! … Friend? Friend?

- Fucking LOVED blankets and coats and jackets and robes and honestly just anything that will keep him warm. He was used to the cold, sure, but if he had a choice between that and being cuddled under 5 different comforters, possibly with another ghoul for extra body heat? It wasn’t even a competition.

- Still had to often be reminded to wear clothes. “We’re in a hellish commune, does anyone really care about one ghoul being naked?” “It’s not so much the nakedness as much as the being out and about without your uniform.”

- Warm food blew his Fucking mind. Coming from the frigid arctic, whatever warmth you’d get from your food’s internal temperature was short lived. Microwaves? Ovens? Tea Kettles? Marvelous. Truly a gift from the Dark One

- Got REALLY into cooking. Dude is a wizard in the kitchen. Watched so many kitchen shows once he figured out how TV’s worked and started replicating the really fancy meals they were creating on screen with whatever he could find around the Abbey and what the kitchen staff were willing to give him. Now, whenever there’s a big occasion, he’s the one asked to oversee the food.

Mountain:

- weirdly calm and placid about everything despite not knowing how literally anything worked.

- Just casually curious about everything. Was always asking questions. Not in an annoying way, but just politely inquisitive.

- There was like a 50/50 chance he was actually listening to you at any given point in time. I mean, there are so many new sights, sounds, smells to experience! Can’t expect him to be 100% there when there’s still so much new splendor all around!

- If ever he was confronted with something new but no one was around to explain what it was, he would instead try to just. Figure it out on his own using his best judgement.

- This is how he once ended up straight up eating someone’s phone. This was very early on, mind you, but it was so smooth and shiny! And the precious metals inside were so tasty! He knows better now, of course. But there are some days where he’s tempted to give his ministry-issued smartphone a nibble…

- Figured out his love of gardening pretty damn fast considering that’s what he was originally summoned for. However, aside from tending to Primo’s garden, he found himself still going out to tend to the plants even in his free time. It’s calming to him, reminds him of home. When things get overwhelming, the plants are there to let him channel his worry into something producing.

- His first personal plant was a small pot of rosemary. He kept it in the window of his room and took *such* good care of it. It’s still there to this day, nestled among the other plants he’s accumulated of the years.

Swiss

- he is so excited about everything!!!!

- He has to be touching all the new things all the time! What does it do? How is it made?? Can he eat it??? A lot of things that were small enough went straight into his mouth. Copia needed to keep a spray bottle on him at all times to make sure he didn’t hurt himself.

- Of course, when he was around the other ghouls, he played it cool. Have to make a good impression on his new (and hopefully permanent) packmates after all. He reeeaaaally didn’t want get sent back to the pit so getting in good with the rest of the band was TOP priority!

- In fact that need to be liked was bordering on unhealthy and sort of sabotaged himself a bit. Acting all suave and cocksure when the entire rest of the band was on high alert does that.

- Most of the ghouls regarded him with a hefty amount of distrust at first- being the first summon of the new boss came with a LOT of baggage -but Cumulus saw straight through him. He was just a silly little guy! She became his first real friend amongst the pack.

- The two became menaces together, exploring the abbey and messing with shit they probably shouldn’t have. Primo’s garden was a favorite of theirs, much to Mountain’s chagrin.

- Was just SOOOO fascinated by this new body he’s been put in. Unlike most the other ghouls, he didn’t have a physical body he inhabited back in hell, only being given one when he was summoned to the surface. Flesh! If feels funny! What does this thing down here do-

Cumulus:

- was honestly kinda scared at first, what with the whole mood of the pack being out of wack.

- Apparently their new boss might have killed someone? That’s the guy that summoned them? Uh oh!

- Stayed glued to Cirrus in the beginning. Being summoned together meant having a strong built-in bond with each other, always having access to what the other is feeling. Being together offered a much-needed sense of comfort to Cumulus. Getting to spend time with a really pretty girl wasn’t bad either.

- Swiss was the one to bring her out of her shell, imbuing her with confidence through his own fake bravado. They came to rely on each other in that sense. When Cumulus was scared to do the things she wanted, Swiss would convince her of her capability. When Swiss was anxious and felt like a fraud, Cumulus would remind him of his sincerity.

- Was very curious about how her magic worked on the surface versus how it did in the pit. Back home, she was used to having to beat against the constant winds of the first layer of hell. Now that she’s on Earth, her powers are much more powerful than she ever expected them to be!

- LOVED textiles. She surrounded herself in all things soft and fluffy. Her bedroom (and most nights Cirrus’s as well) is just so Fucking cozy. Blankets and pillows everywhere. Her stuffed animal collection is unmatched. Will cry if even one of them ends up on the floor.

- Dew was the one to help her start her collection. To this day they are each other’s #1 cuddle buddies.

Cirrus:

- Stone cold badass front to hide how nervous she was.

- VERY protective of Cumulus in the beginning. She could feel how scared she was and felt the need to step up and protect the both of them from any threat this new environment may have… even if the perceived threat is a bit stupid.

- She once kicked in the washing machine cause it made a sound once it was done and it startled her. Not her proudest moment.

- Was almost OVERPROTECTIVE of Cumulus at first, even, doing even the simplest of tasks for her to prevent risk of injury. That was until she watched her kick a sibling straight in the nuts for making snide remarks about Cirrus in front of her. Cirrus had never fallen in love faster.

- Took a LONG while to warm up to the others. Constantly felt like she had something to prove, like she needed to show that she wouldn’t buckle under pressure. Everyone (but Cumulus) was a threat.

- Adores weather on Earth and how it isn’t just WIND 24/7. She loves all the different shapes of the clouds, how dark they get with moisture, the gentle snowfall or the needle-like rain. Really puts her at peace to be out on a rainy day

Rain:

- S C A R E D

- Everything is new and bright and cold and heavy and loud and- and- and-

- Yeah he barely left his room for a week, didn’t talk to anyone for anything. Not shy, necessarily, but just freaked the fuck OUT. They were starting to think he was nonverbal cause man refused to use his voice. In his defense, talking outside the water feels very different when you’re used to your vocal cords wiggling in water all your life.

- In my brain the first time he did speak was to Copia after he did his lil oopsie with the rest of the pack. It’s like a day later and Copia’s tryna plan how he’s gonna make it up to the ghouls when rain cornered him in a dark hallway, made direct eye contact, and in the softest voice went “I wouldn’t go near the lake if I were you. It’s hard to hear screaming underwater.” He then left a completely stunned and freaked tf out Copia standing alone in the hall like it never happened.

- He kinda regrets letting his first words on Earth be a threat now but the rest of the pack is flattered, although they do still sometimes tease him for it.

- Really started coming out of his shell when Dew made dinner for him. Dew was in the same shoes as him once and, although his relationship with the new water ghoul was complicated, he still felt obligated to help his new packmate adjust to life on Earth.

- Bro went through the trouble of showing Rain what every little thing in the kitchen did so he wouldn’t be scared to make his own food anymore, all while making him some grade A gourmet dining. Dew didn’t know it at the time but that’s when the heart-eyes started.

[nathaslosthershit]

Pickles and Pregnancy||Quinn Hughes x Reader

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, I am not pregnant nor have I ever been so this is going to be insanely inaccurate! 

Request: Can I get a pregnancy fic with one of the boys you write for? Maybe the reader wakes up in the middle of the night with cravings and her and her husband have a cute moment in the kitchen? Love you lots!

A/n: Thank you to everyone who voted on who should be the reader's husband in this fic! Couldn’t have done it without you

Word Count: 600+

“Quinn, Quinn. Wake up please goddammit!” Is what Quinn heard as he was shaken awake by his very much so pregnant and distressed wife. 

The fear on Quinn's face as he sat up would have made her feel bad if she hadn’t been in such misery.

“What? What’s wrong? Is it the baby? Is it you? How can I help?” He said in one breath.

You began to cry. These stupid fucking hormones were absolutley ruining your life.

“I’m sorry I’m just really hungry and the thought of having to wait till morning to eat just-” You cut yourself off when sobs overtook your body. It really wasn’t a big deal but at the same time it absolutely was. 

Relief that there wasn’t something seriously wrong with you or the baby overcame the slight feeling of anger Quinn had felt from being woken up at… 3:26 am. 

“What can I do? Do I need to go out and get something? Most places will be closed at this time, love.” He said cautiously, you were already crying and the last thing he wanted was to make it worse.

“I just… I just want pickles. So badly. Please, Quinn, I will do anything for you to go get some.” You beg, sniffling as you try to calm yourself. It broke Quinn’s heart to see you like this, especially when he couldn’t do anything. Luckily though, he was prepared for this exact scenario. 

“Hun, I got some after practice, they are in the fridge.” Seeing the look of happiness and relief wash over your face made Quinn laugh. Your ability to change moods that fast after hearing you were going to be able to eat pickles at 3 am was astounding to him. 

“Come keep me company?” 

“Always, love.”

You feel Quinn’s hand on your back as you waddle to the kitchen. Opening the fridge to find those fucking pickles almost made you jump with joy, and maybe you would have if you had been able to jump in the current state you were in and had been in for many months. 

“I’ve never had a better pickle holy shit.” You moan.

“Okay first cut the swearing with our child present. Also, can you cool it with your pickle horniness please?” Quinn asks as he reaches for the jar.

“Absolutely the fuck not. These are mine. Grow your own child and I’ll share but I didn’t invite you here to give you some.”

“Then why am I here, love?”

“Because if the child I am currently making inside of me decides I must eat pickles or I will die, then the man who put the kid in me will also have to be awake at 3 am in solidarity.”

“Alright, alright. I’ll stay in solidarity” at that, he leans in to kiss you. As one kiss becomes two, and two become a very heated start to a makeout session, you pull away, putting your hands on his chest as he leans in for more.

“Absolutely not. I'm here to eat, not recreate our baby’s conception.”

“You are disgusting, you know that?”

“I love you too.” You say as you close the jar. Before you open the fridge he stops you.

“I love you more than anything. And I will gladly spend the rest of my 3 am’s awake, watching you eat pickles if that is what you want.” He leans down to kiss your head before you both walk back to your room.

[sahonithereadwolf]

Can I tell you about the very queer game I made this Pride?

In A World That Hates and Fears You, Living Becomes an Act of Rebellion.

Exceptionals is a game inspired by X-Men about and for the spaces and communities marginalized peoples make for themselves. Play as a Geno, one of little less than 0.5% percent of the population that has gone through a mysterious process called Claremont-Simonson mutation, as you try to navigate a world that won’t make room for you. Exceptionals is a game about what the mutant metaphor means to you and the different lenses through which we view it. Punch back and build something of worth together in this narrative tag-driven tabletop role playing game. 🧬Features Open-Ended Character Creation🧬 Mix and Match between (23) open-ended but guided protocols. Answer questions to create high concept and unique super powered characters where the only real limit is your imagination. Get invested in who you make as a whole person, and not just a set of powers. Build a Community 🧬Create a living and dynamic community space full of colorful characters. 🧬 Grow your base as an anchor for other geno and help fill it with the resources they and you need. Understand how your actions effect others and gain trust through the bonds mechanic. It’s a game where you get stronger by growing your community and heal by being part of it.

🧬Comic Book Storytelling 🧬 Play as a creative team of writers and editors working to tell the best version of the story you can over time and storyline-based experience to model changes of the status quo and creative direction. Enjoy panel based action pacing and the ability of characters of all power levels to coexist and carry the same amount of story weight.

🧬Not Pain Tourism 🧬 While Exceptionals offers a number of places to push back, we understand and recognize that the most important part of a punching bag is that you choose to hit it, even if it’s not at all. We recognize not everyone gets to set the issues that the mutant metaphor is used to talk about down when they leave the table and offer many ways to tell stories outside of a lens defined by pain. We also put an emphasis and mechanical weight on the importance of joy and celebration. 📚You can buy the Core Book here:📚 https://bramblewolfgames.itch.io/exceptionals 📚You can buy the Expansions here:📚 https://bramblewolfgames.itch.io/exceptionals-expansion-bundle 📚You can buy the bundle with everything here:📚 https://bramblewolfgames.itch.io/exceptionals-expansion-bundle I didn’t go out with the intent of making this a very queer game. Not explicitly. I started making games because  I got frustrated waiting to feel seen or acknowledged. Another game got me mad about using my peoples stories to be transphobic, to be racist, to be ableist. Nevermind my people have more than two genders traditionally and faced a genocide. That was too much for me. I said this was enough and the quite indignities I suffered to feel included wasn’t worth it. I could do better myself.  So I set out to make a superhero game. I hated just about every comic book game on the market. It never seemed to capture what I did like about big hero comics with high concept storytelling and powers and couldn’t care less on a mechanical or narrative level about who this person was outside the mask. More focused on bashing action figures together and golden age pastiche that doesn’t really reflect the decades of character and genre developments that have happened since then. I later found games that do it better, but I was dissatisfied... I chose x-men for the homies. I’ve always been an x-men fan. A lot of people my age were. My first action figure was one of rogue I got at a garage sale, where she then went on to fight many a play-dough monster. But for many of us it was the first place we were allowed to be heroes. There are no natives on the 90′s x-men team. But I had uncles and older kids all too eager to tell me about Forge and Warpath (I hate that name) and my favorite Dani Moonstar (I ain’t the biggest fan of that name either, but she’s the closest thing mainstream hero comics have to a good NDN).

After that, things just kinda flowed from there. The X-men have such a focus on community. It’s “comics greatest soap opera”. It can be messy, complicated, beautiful and life-affirming all at the same time. They take the time to play basketball, go to the mall, and have birthday parties as they grow. Two of my favorite x-men comics aren’t about fighting at all. One is framed around a sleepover some students have, and another is about a wedding and framed around everyone filming their part of the wedding tape.

So I started thinking about the communities I’ve been a part of. A big core of the game is informed by my time and the people I met in these sort of spaces. As a native, as a queer person, as a disabled person I’ve been both someone who needed them and someone who gave back.

Which suited x-men just fine. X-men has cared about that sort of thing from about X-men #3 with the first appearance of The Blob, establishing it’s tone of sympathy and mutants as a minority analog.

I just kept going and I didn’t stop. And apparently I did a good job. Someone out there has been using my game as game-therapy and community outreach in a gender health center out in California. I got a lot of kind words for the game too (which is good, because I spent 3 years on it).

KUDOS

-As featured on; io9/Gizmodo, Kotaku, Listen to Theses Nerds, Team-Up Moves, Yes Indie'd Pod, Team-Up Moves, and The Voice of Dog -#1 Best Seller and Popular on Itch.io in both Analog & RPG Games, Sept 2021

Listen to the Team-Up Moves AP Here!: https://teamupmoves.com/runs/exceptionals "Exceptionals is a beautiful, brilliantly designed superhero RPG. It's truly a masterpiece, and if you haven't checked it out, do yourself a favor." -@PartyOfOnePod

"This thing COOKS, Sahoni doesn't just tap into the queer/minority readings of mutants, but also ties in the weirdness that really gets my mind racing when it comes to X books." -@froondingloom 

"A refreshingly different game, that strikes a good balance between unlimited player freedom and solid guiding handrails. Really gets at the full potential of what the ;mutant outcast heroes' genre should be about: found family, building communities, and lives lived to the fullest despite being lived in defiance." -@guywhowrotethis 

"The whole game oozes love for its inspiration while also going further than they dared...." -@Phoenix24Femme

"Astonishing! Uncanny! All-New! And all other X-Adjectives available. This book gets why one would want to play the Mutant Metaphor in an RPG. It cleverly weaves the power fantasy of powerful individuals with the drive to do good for one's community. It's well-researched, well-written and, well, so much fun to play! This is the superpowered game I've been wanting for a long, long time. I can't wait to tell an Exceptional story of my own!" -@Kokiteno Team-up moves even made a recommended comic reading list. It has some of the best x-men has to offer and then some. It even includes that  New Mutants comic with the sleepover. They read me for filth and I love it.

I hope you play my game too. I hope you like it. I hope you tell queer stories and build community around you. I hope it’s messy, complicated, beautiful and life-affirming all at the same time. Thank you for reading this. Please reblog if you can as well as share it with x-men and rpg fans in your life.

[satocidal]

𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ ʿ𖥔 ִ ་ ، ˖ ࣪ ་ ˖ Unfortunately, Yours

↳ Gojo Satoru x Fem!Reader

Episode 1:-

↳ ||Masterlist||Taglist Form||next chapter(two)||

Synopsis: It is when the birth right is snatched from your hands that your eyes truly ever open—especially when it’s always been there, right in your grasp. The Throne was yours, that was the truth promised and yet- yet your fate lay sealed with a certain Gojo. With an arranged marriage set in plan, alongs sets the plan of murder—within a wife who wants the throne and a husband who wants nothing but power, but suffers with them the present and the future of other two—especially when the lies of the past start surfacing.

— Word count: 3.9k

— A/n: ahhhh I have so many nerves lmao because this is the first chapter and I don’t wanna ruin it at all lol. And I wanna keep everything so subtle yk? But hope you guys like this!

— Warnings: Asshole Satoru; Asshole reader; mentions of adultery; slight objectification(?); Fem Bodied! Reader; usage of feminine terms; author thinks she can write💀 ps: I’ve never seen Christian weddings (or whatever I’ve written idk lol) so bare with me; typos

Hands that were trained, calloused once with bruises, prepared to be painted with blood now sat idle—a diamond ring in the finger.

Fate- the red string- two ends.

About 8 billion people walked the surface of earth—it was said, heard, stated, passed—The Greek god Zeus split each one of us into halves, punished to roam the earth and find our other half—the soulmate. Fatalism stated that everything was predestined- so it must be true, the concept of it.

Marriage—sacred, pure.

The day was clear as ever in your eyes—your father had entered the room, a solemn look on his face, a ring in hand; the entire month you had watched as the Gojos became a usual Tomorrow; you had watched as your sisters giggled at the premonition of your marriage; you had watched as the tables shifted and you had watched, and watched and watched.

Eyes numb, heart aching and mind a mess, you watched for that was all you could do now.

It was rushed, the whole process of it—a month ago your wedding planned and a month later you were gone. You didn’t want the wedding, you were sure Satoru Gojo didn’t either—“He’s so in love with you,” from your cousins deluded you—“I’m so lucky to have you,” from his mother.

Mind filled with thoughts of a man you’d only meet at the night of your wedding.

No amount of convincing could’ve been for you to utter a yes—but a definitive “You will do it,” from your father did wonders.

“You’ll be alright,” a whisper—your mother’s, soft, harsh.

“You have to be alright,” a demand—your father’s, careful, adamant.

“Promise me you’ll be alright,” a thought—your sister’s, empty, or so you dared to think.

And that was true, in a lonesome bind, you thought a lot.

You thought when your sister braided your hair, pretty, elegant—nothing you’d ever found yourself to be defined as.

You thought while your mother and grandmother, aunts and maids—they giggled, old wives’ tales falling off chastised lips like honey.

You thought when you found your father’s eyes hiding—nervous, you’d noted but you only thought.

And you thought still when the morning arrived, you sister kneeling beside you—eyes focused, narrowed, fingers working fast to smoothen the white.

Perfect the white.

Perfect your impure white—the dirty kind.

And finally, alone with your sister, you spoke.

“You must be glad,”

A silence met you, heavy.

“Don’t be shy about it, not anymore,”

A sigh— she got up slow, eyes focused still on your white gown—“you look gorgeous,” a mumble you heard.

You found yourself staring at her curls—when did she curl those you wondered, but then she’d answer that you didn’t care and perhaps, you didn’t.

Not usually.

“We’re sisters Aki,” you pestered, “you can tell me ya know?” You winked—a smirk, a tease—all to prove your point.

“The wedding is to begin in an hour now then, be prepared,”

“Don’t change topics. Tell me you’re happy about it, about all this,”

Another sigh—a glare and a huff, “Has father stuffed lies so deep your throat that you’re begging to hear them now?”

Again, silence.

Father—

Your eye twitched—nose puffed and eyes flared at your form in the mirror—you did you look gorgeous, or at least, different. A good different, arguably.

“Alright,” she mumbled quietly then, “c’mere—” her hands beckoned you close, her own navy blue contrasting to your pure white—ironic, you mused.

“What,” face scrunched, you let out—causing your sister to chuckle, “At least smile at your own wedding y/n,”

A scoff—“I’ll cry if I damn want to—and no, not for the dramatics,” a chuckle, this time, mutual.

“I’ll miss you,” you heard her whisper against you, entrapped in an embrace you stood, stiff—your eyes lay blank.

“Was it…my—”

“It’s not to chastise you,”

“It’s no less than that,”

“Endure it,”

A tear, quick, rolled down your cheek—wiped off all too quickly by your own sister—for you were to look perfect tonight.

Perfect for your perfect husband.

“Find your happiness there,” she whispered against your shoulder—you sobbed, “Why is he sending me away?”

Cruel. Cruel. Cruel.

“He sent us all away- even mother,” her hands patted your back- the touch felt foreign—“Not me,” your voice rasped, “I was different, I was better, I was the best he had,” her hands tensed around you—“I don’t know,” she confessed, “but promise me, you’ll be happy there,”

You nodded- empty.

“He’s going to be a fool in love,” her voice adorned, his mother- sharp- “So fortunate to get someone like you in my house, such a sweet pretty thing you are,” you smiled in accordance- hands clenched.

It was for her sake, you believed, the Gojo family worked in her shadow— a finger lifted meant everyone had to stand, a finger pressed and silence—in some way or the other, she stood to be your admiration. To hold power was to be nothing however to call power, now that, you admired.

It was in the way she was subtle but oh so glorified—Kana Gojo, perhaps the only woman or human you’d dared to look upto.

You smiled as she’d walked you around—parading shops through shops, looking for what she deemed the perfect dress—perfect, she wanted it to be—perfect not for her son but perfect in every sense of it.

-

A gift placed in your hand- bribe—“Aren’t you the sweetest Hm?” A smile, vaunted- his father, a careful spendthrift in every sense of the word.

You smiled, nodded and chuckled—“only learned from the best,” your eyes zoom over to your mother—never learned anything from her, you didn’t, and yet—formalities and a certain charm, you graced them evidently.

The head of the house, at least on paper—he didn’t hold much prowess with the profits but then, Gojos barely needed any more profit for the empire was built well and well enough to not crash. He did, however, hold his hands high and wide—welcoming, warm; everything his wife was not.

Not yin to her yang but the epitomised silver to her gold — Ginji Gojo, perhaps the only man to accustom himself to his wife, the only man you never truly could understand, along his son, of course.

You grinned as he lead you, hand held in his own—eyes searching for the perfect diamond to adorn not your finger but your marriage.

-

Shy glances and shyer hello-s he muttered, it was cute—you supposed, in the way a letter found is way in your hands—“Read it when you’re alone please,”—his cousin brother, innocent.

‘Hello,’ it began—cut off—‘Dear Y/n,’—cut off—‘assume I said something cool,’ you chuckled, the rest, a memory nestled deep in your mind.

He was young, 9–someone you hoped to inspire—Megumi—he didn’t know much, or anything at all, a subtle age of nine after all. But he knew enough.

Not enough to strike competition but smart enough to be called his successor; he was a smart kid you’d mused, a polite greet everytime you two met, a sweeter letter handed everytime.

Twice he cut off the beginning every time and deliberate you’d found it be—cuter still. And he lead you still, hand holding onto yours as he helped you decide on the flavour of the cake.

The girl, you watched from the corner of your eyes, chuckled, a hand reaching out to slap her father’s hand away—he chuckled, smiled, conversed—something and everything you never had.

A tear rolled down your cheek, salty—“Crying already?” The voice was gruff, your father’s.

“Father,” you muttered, hands reaching upto wipe the tear away quick—“Don’t,” he muttered, “Tears are useful.”

You could only nod.

The man stood beside you, taller by a decent inch or two—hands stuffed in his pocket and a bow tie tight around his neck; the man was slender— a ghost of the figure he used to be, could’ve been. A potential wasted, he called himself—a potential wasted, you too.

You watched him as he moved around you, hefty eyes felt heavy, scanning your form—“You look fine,” a compliment he’d deem it—perhaps it was, “Didn’t know white was your colour.”

It wasn’t.

Did he know anything about you? At all? No.

“Suppose it is, today onwards,” he smiled, you frowned, “That’s my girl.”

Another tear rolled quick, then another and they kept rolling, you stood blank.

“No,” you scowled defiantly—his hands working quick—scowl, mirroring yours as he wiped the tears—“When I said tears, I didn’t mean these many. You cannot possibly be this dramatic.”

An empty grin.

“Dramatic?” Voice pitched, brows raised, heart shattering you stared at him—“I am being dramatic?” Loud enough you were to have people raise the awareness that the bride was moody- or so they’d gossip and so you’d let them.

His eyes narrowed—a sign, quite usually telling you to quieten down—not today, “Why are you doing this?” You finally asked, shoulders relieved, heart heavier still—afraid the answer might me the truth you’ve fed yourself.

“Is this some- some-” you paused, a breath caught, eyes cast down—“punishment? Did I do something wrong?”

And in that moment, perhaps you were nothing more than a little girl—perhaps in that moment you wanted nothing more than your father’s reassurance—perhaps things could’ve been better.

But they weren’t—glory of fate itself.

“Don’t create a fucking scene,”

Had hearts really been made of glass, your father would’ve heard yours break—not once but a million times in that second. Again and again and again.

A noise—static.

“Yes sir,” you muttered, eyes dancing along his hands—you shuddered—he twisted his own.

-

His hands were soft as they held yours, he lead you slow, your father did.

The white veil that you’d spent hours to decide upon, the one you would never care about—it swept beside you, gasps escaping the lips of many as you walked out.

And there, there your eyes met his.

Poised he stood, white hair slicked back—nothing like those superficial memories his mother had told about, nothing like the tabloids you’d seen. This man, the one on your altar—that was Satoru Gojo.

Not the Toru’ you’d heard of, not the Heir of Gojos you’d kept your eyes upon, not the stubborn and hardheaded Satoru-san his maids had warned you about, not anything you’d known.

This was Satoru Gojo, your husband to be.

You hadn’t assumed your wedding to be a fairytale—in all honesty, you hadn’t assumed anything at all.

A prison you’d deemed it on the first day and perhaps that was all it was—but something, just something in you cried all too much when Satoru didn’t slip so much as a smile towards you.

Don’t get me wrong, he’d grinned and smirked all night- teased by his friends—congratulated by everyone—he did show joy, in some meaning of the word.

Not to you- but I suppose a win that was too—after all, a marriage is built on the truths right?

Eyes moist, a tear he did let go off—superficial it was, you knew it, but a hero Satoru Gojo would be deemed the next day in the magazines his family would pay good money to.

Yours was never meant to be that perfect wedding, not at the core of it—you knew that from day one of the sequenced wedding but then—just something, someone in you cried a little too. Just someone broke inside when you realised it wouldn’t be your husband who cried the moment he set his eyes on his bride—it wouldn’t be you telling those cute stories about your wedding day.

It wouldn’t be you—it was normal you’d heard, for grooms to be overwhelmed in there weddings- the thought of spending a forever with his bride, the supposed memories flooding their mind—but it wouldn’t be for you. He stood there with hands behind him, eyes awaiting you presence still.

A smile he held—empty as you joined him—eyes were very telling you r father had preached, never once had you found him to be wrong.

His hands felt cold as you held them—cold like your father’s, colder still somehow was his presence. And your realised, heart — to what you had thought to be a void — breaking as you realised that the marriage was a cage to him as much as you. Neither happy—he wasn’t happy with your presence.

Pathetic. But again, did it truly matter?

The wedding had begun— officiated, soon your “I do”s would slip, the wedding couldn’t be stopped now, not ever.

And in that moment your eyes flickered to your own mother—she stood regal.

Embroidery she’d fought into you, cooking and baking, sewing a skill she’d made you own too—pity she couldn’t teach you controlling your emotions—pity your father was your influence.

Your eyes managed to flicker onto him—saintly, your brain mused—your heart couldn’t help but agree. And those saintly features held an ugly heart you told yourself, solace to a lonesome mind.

“Satoru, do you promise to love, honor, cherish, and protect Y/N, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

When he took a moment to answer with a blank gaze, you could feel tiny pricks being sent straight to your heart. Just a mere glance at his stolid mien was enough for you to believe that he was going to call off the wedding and run away—mayhaps you wanted that, mayhaps, you didn’t.

What else could you expect?

He clearly didn’t want this, understandable was the fact. It wouldn’t surprise you if he took a step back and announced that he couldn’t go on in making an oath to offer the rest of his life with you. That he would rather get out of this hell hole and be somewhere else than to proclaim a love that was being forced out of him.

“I do,” he professed, despite the inner turmoil that plagued his head.

You sighed—soft.

“Y/n, do you promise to love, honour and cherish and protect Satoru, forsaking all others, and holding only unto her forevermore?”

Your eyes were quick—a glance here and there and everywhere—the pause was heavy; you watched your father’s nod of encouragement—your mother’s sharp eyes—his mother’s smile, fake- his father’s sip of champagne—your sister’s eyes’ were hazy; his best friend tipsy.

You couldn’t say no—“I do,”

“Bride and Groom, you have heard the words of love and marriage, have exchanged your vows and made your promises, and celebrated your union with the giving and receiving of rings. It is at this time that I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the officiant declared, “you may now kiss the bride.”

Your eyes widened behind your veil- your first- the breath hitched as Satoru removed your veil—crystal seemed his eyes, crystal clear was his distaste. He was tall—comical in fact—you tip toed slight, he leaned in a bit—the kiss was warm, chill, foreign. His hand rested upon your cheek, a stroke—a pull, brief.

Your eyes watched as he pulled away, a new smile on his lips—an actor he could’ve proven to be.

A million thoughts clouded you and him—known to only the two of you—marriage worked quick in that sense you supposed, mother and you sister weer perhaps right. But when all was said and done—the marriage was officiated.

And your eyes met then—a thought passed between you and your husband—stuck together—Unfortunately, Yours.

Hair slicked, ivory, elegant.

For a man who was yours even when he wasn’t—you supposed he was good.

Gojo Satoru swept across the room—a smile on his face, gentle; gentler was the rhythm he walked at. Here and there, he conversed, after all, a man of his charm he was- taking after none but his father.

Idle gossip danced along his ears while he giggled with women—politics fell off his lips as he sipped on the champagne—he teased and played with children too, laughing and joking with them—Gojo Satoru smiled to all but his wife-to-be. She sat there, quiet, unmoving, unrelenting—she lay still.

“It’s the fifth time you’ve stared at her in the last 3 minutes,” a glass in hand—a black suit adorned, Suguru waltzed beside him—a sly grin on his face, “I know you’re married but that’s really desperate, even for you,”

“Shut up,” Satoru muttered, grinning wide at the new set of guests—hand motioning the waiters to attended to it.

Suguru chuckled again, “Your dad really didn’t help out today either huh?”

“Old geezer’s getting drunk,” voice, plain—monotonous, hands clenched at his sides —begging to run through his hair—to ruin it all.

“How was she?”

“Boring,”

Suguru’s eyes zoomed on to the specific waitress—limping—he sighed, “Your mother was worried sick and you’re having affairs already?,” he began, hands reaching up to fix the shirt, “And today is your wedding today—have some etiquette,”

Eyes rolled—the same dialogue slipped off his mouth—“You’re becoming my mother—and she isn’t random; as is I’ll get her fired now,” he grinned this time around, “but not anymore, I’ve already got another woman to fuck around with,” a hand—sharp—landed on his head.

“Respect her,” the raven haired boy muttered, eyes focused and cast down, “She’s your wife today onwards—not just some woman you can fuck whenever you want,”

Satoru scowled, hands rubbing the back of his head, the spot where Suguru struck, “That’s all she means,”

“Don’t tempt me to make her a widow before she’s even married Satoru,” a grin, a huge one Suguru masked—words deadly balanced.

“Treat her well Satoru,”

“You marry her then,”

“Suck it up and smile,”

“Fuck you,”

“I will,”—a grin, a chuckle and that was that. A hand patted Satoru on the back—“Treat her well,” Suguru muttered again, both their eyes cast onto you—where a smile rested on both their lips, only one was genuine. Your eyes found tracing their oath to their spot too, black and white—they seemed a beautiful set—your eyes cast to your own gown and your sister’s. White and navy blue—all the same.

A couple and another, a pair of four.

Suguru let his eyes cast down to his watch—about time for the dance—“Satoru,” his voice was smooth, “it’s time for your dance,”

He hummed—“Her father, or I suppose mine too now—he wanted her first dance,” Suguru raised his brows, “and you let him? What happened ‘I don’t share’” A small smirk played on the younger male’s lips.

“I don’t share what’s mine—not all that-” another strike, harder.

-

Inhale, exhale- again.

You hands shook, and ears ringed—you were married. The statement related in your mind for the 5th time since.

Married. Tied down.

“Entertain me with the first dance m’lady?” Your eyes narrowed—sharp—“Father?”

Beside you stood you father indeed, an aura different—an aura that had become his past.

He smiled, kind—your confusion only grew—“It’s time sweetheart,” Your teeth clenched; sweetheart?

You nodded still—be his good girl—his hand held yours; yours, his.

The music was slow- none that you recognised, you needn’t, you’d want to forget the moment already. The applause for you was blurry, everything around you was too. Eyes didn’t bother running off to your mother, nor your husband—they never did around your father.

And in the moment, you could’ve sworn to the vain memory you held—your father seemed like the man you once knew; seemed like the one who had abandoned you. Rage seized a decent part of your mind—desperation to hold onto him took charge of the other.

He held you close- an embrace not felt in forever, “You’ll be fine baby,” he mumbled into your ear—“don’t say that,” you were quick to add.

“Don’t be like this,” you added next, his heart broke, yours already was.

He knew however, what you meant- not a single objection he raised, guilt all too evident on the face that held its own wisdom. Evident however, only to those who knew him and pity lay such, he never let you.

“Just entertain me here,” you finally spoke—a minute left of your song—“why did you agree to this? We’re not- we’re not in need of money, we’ve the perfect military- you’ve raised me enough for me to take over at any given instance then why—why them?”

His gaze should’ve hardened—you expected it; it softened.

“I apologise.”

You nodded yet again- an answer unkempt.

-

Satoru’s hand felt the same it had the altar, soft, scented- something you perhaps wanted to hated.

He spun you around—a man of honour your mother would call him, you beckoned yourself to him—a lady of grace his mother would call you.

People danced all around you, your eyes found their way onto your sister, smiling and giggling—suitors all around her, you smiled.

Eyes couldn’t help but falter at Suguru Geto- Satoru’s best friend, you’d learned—his presence too. In a shy corner he stood- girls around him, you wouldn’t blame them—he sought that attention after all, evident.

“You like this song?” Your eyes snapped onto Satoru—“Pardon?”

“This song, do you like it?” Your eyes gazed everyone—all the while, his, you.

“I’ve…never heard it before—”

“—well I particularly hate it,” your brows raised—“Oh alright,” you nodded, “I’ll make sure to not add it to the playlist ‘Wedding 2.0’,”

Smiles you both held- not for each other, formal entirely—“Hilarious,” he muttered, “Makes two of us,” you snapped back.

A momentary silence fell and you couldn’t yourself—“Don’t try to play the husband here, you don’t accept me and I don’t accept you which is all but fine by me but I don’t need you to make idle conversations.” Voice sharp- eyes more so.

He grinned—“Feisty Hm?” Your nose flared—“alright I’ll entertain you with the non-idle kind,” eyes looked down at you condescension, was it?

“Daddy raised you as his war general yeah?” Your jaw clenched, “what did they call you? His right arm? His best gem?”

“Domestic abuse,” you began slow, “is a very real concept Satoru,” you smiled dangerously sweet—“Pray tell, the way you speak may make you victim soon,”

He chuckled quietly, nothing humorous, “Daddy also taught you weaponry?”

“Don’t speak of him like that-respect him,” you warned, teeth gritted—both of yours eyes zooming onto him—Satoru smiled.

“Of course, nothing against my father-in-law,” another grin, “But I can say whatever to you right baby?”

You hated him.

Your eyes scanned his, his- yours.

A frown, a grin.

A cough sounded beside you just then—the man just as tall as your husband, just as, if not more so, elegant.

Your eyes met his—a pit, yours and his.

“M’lady,” he smiled smoothly- bending just enough to kiss your hand—eyes cast quick onto Satoru, “One dance with the lady of the night please?”

Never a question, only a statement.

“Yes please,” Satoru muttered all too quick- a sharp glance, yours and Suguru’s.

Before you knew it you were swept right away, Suguru danced faster—a style which complimented yours, Satoru? Quiet the very same as yours, clashing.

You smiled as he picked the momentum with you, a chuckle his too—“You look stunning tonight,”

A nervous smile you passed-“All the very same to you sir,” his eyes crept onto your skin quick—“Why, seems like it’s just the two War Generals appreciating each other,” he laughed.

You laughed along- your eyes pausing to scan the hilt of his dagger in the suit—“Talent sees talent, eh?”

Another laugh- empty. What had swept you off was pleasant, what danced with you was hollow.

“The wedding,” Suguru added—your ears perked.

“Yes?” You reflected instantly—“You helped in the management right?” He smiled—your eyes narrowed.

Bastard, you both mused.

You nodded politely, “Well a good wife has to take care of things yeah?”

He grinned, “Oh you’re all too good m’lady,” voice a whisper, “Seems to me you’ll give me a run for my life,”

You grinned back, “Bless my heart Suguru—never to my family.”

Eyes hollow, minds ran fast—‘Interesting’ you both wondered as Suguru handed you back to his best friend and your husband.

‘Interesting indeed’.

Reblogs and likes highly appreciated!

All of this work is original and entirely my own, please refrain from copying or reposting.

— Taglist: @rizzmin @4sat0ruu @lavendervogh @yooiimiya @gojoismybitch

[myscenic]

Pairing: mafia!park jisung x male!reader

Genre: mafia!au, enemies to lovers, fluff

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1k+

Synopsis: jisung (21), the cold mafia, and y/n (19), the outgoing one have always butted heads as partners in their secret organization. although y/n had always secretly admired jisung, but his cold expression washed over it quickly. forced to work together on missions, their ice and fire relationship clashes slowly evolve into respect. beyond work, an unexpected friendship forms through a campfire and private moments where y/n opens up.

𓆰 Note: ahhh my first fic ever!! i immediately thought of mafia jisung when i first saw the concept photo so I decided to write one. it's kinda bad but i hope you don't mind😭

"mark hyung please swap with me, i don't want to be partnered with the ice prince again," y/n pleaded with their leader as he stared at the assignment board. for the fifth time this month, he had been paired up with jisung for a mission.

jisung overheard the conversation and glared at y/n from across the room. "watch it, rodent, or i'll put you in your place again."

y/n rolled his eyes, ignoring the older's empty threat. their leader just sighed. "sorry kid, you two need to learn how to work together. now stop bothering me and get going, your target leaves in an hour."

groaning, y/n turned away from the board and made his way over to jisung begrudgingly. "hey hyung, ready to go?" he said pointedly, hoping to irk the other.

jisung's eyes narrowed. "don't try me," he shoved past y/n and headed for the doors.

y/n sighed and muttered “this is gonna be shitty like last time…” in a flashback to the time where he almost screwed the mission up and jisung scolded him harshly.

“are you just gonna stand there or what?” jisung sent him a cold look at the door. y/n shivered and rushed to him, wondering how on earth this day could get any worse.

as they scouted the warehouse from the treeline, jisung gazed at the guard numbers with a calculating look. noticing y/n growing anxious beside him, he turned to the other.

"alright, there's too many for a head on fight. we'll need a diversion to split them up. do you have any smoke bombs or explosives?"

y/n nodded, pulling a few small bombs from his pack for jisung's inspection. jisung hummed in approval. "good, you may be semi-useful after all. here's the plan - i'll draw some away to the south side. when the smoke clears, you sneak in and take down any stragglers silently. think you can manage that?"

his tone held doubt as usual, but y/n was determined to prove himself. "you can count on me, hyung. i won't let you down!" he replied confidently.

jisung raised a brow skeptically. "we'll see about that. just follow my lead and try not to screw this up like last time, got it?" y/n nodded eagerly, focusing intently as jisung laid out the strategy. it was time to show the other what he was capable of.

while tracking the target, they came across a large group of enemies guarding a warehouse. jisung sighed in frustration, unsure how they would get past such numbers alone. “this was a lot more than i’ve expected.”

but y/n smiled confidently. "leave it to me, hyung." he drew a small smoke bomb from his pack and lit the fuse. tossing it into the midst of the guards, he then grabbed jisung and pulled him into the cover of nearby bushes.

as the area filled with smoke, y/n used the distraction to stealthily sneak behind enemy lines. jisung watched in amazement as y/n took down guard after guard with precise chokes and jabs, too quick to be seen or stopped.

when the smoke cleared, all enemies lay unconscious on the ground. jisung emerged from the bushes in stunned silence. y/n just grinned proudly. "come on hyung, the target's all ours now."

jisung found himself reluctantly impressed, but just nodded and went over to finish the mission.

the mission was a success, but it had taken longer than expected. jisung and y/n packed up their gear, ready to return to hq and file our report. as they walked through the forest, a comfortable silence fell between them.

much had changed over the months they’d worked together. at first, jisung seemed cold and distant. But little by little, y/n saw glimpses of his kinder nature - his quiet humor, thoughtful insights. they learned to move as one in battle, trusting the other implicitly.

now, an easiness had grown between them y/n hadn't expected to find. he glanced at jisung, his profile illuminated softly by the setting sun. heat rose in y/n’s cheeks but he didn't look away. once they might have been strangers, even enemies - but now, he had become his friend.

they stopped at the edge of the woods. jisung turned to me, eyes bright. "good work today. i’m glad you have my back out there." his words warmed him more than the fire they’d soon light.

words stuck in y/n’s throat so he simply nodded, smiling. they readied camp in a comfortable silence. as the forest awoke with night noises, he watched the firelight play across jisung's face.

y/n’s heartbeat quickened. he cared for him far more than he’d admitted, even to himself. but would jisung accept his feelings? their partnership was too important to lose.

jisung turned to stoke the fire, unaware of his gaze. y/n took a deep breath to steady his nerves. it was now or never.

"hyung?" his voice was soft.

he faced me, eyes questioning. y/n looked down, fiddling with his hands. "there's something i want to tell you."

silence. y/n glanced up - jisung was watching him patiently, a gentle look in his eyes that bolstered y/n's courage.

"over these past months, working together, i've come to..." y/n hesitated. "care for you. deeply."

jisung tilted his head slightly, continuing to listen without judgment. y/n plunged on. "at first i didn't understand these feelings. but being with you has come to mean everything to me."

y/n searched his face for a reaction, heart in his throat. jisung's expression was unreadable. fear gripped him - had he ruined their friendship?

finally he spoke, voice soft. "you foolish fool." y/n's heart sank - until he continued. "how long have I felt the same?"

joy and surprise bloomed within him. "you - you do?"

he smiled, reaching to brush y/n's cheek in a tender caress. "of course, idiot."

relief and delight swept him. leaning into his touch, y/n smiled back tentatively. he gazed at me with such affection that he knew, in that moment, their bond ran deeper than either of them had understood.

slowly, cautiously, y/n tilted his face up to jisung's. his smile widened as he leaned down to brush his lips against y/n's in a gentle kiss. warmth and rightness pulsed through him, this was the beginning of understanding each other in a whole new way.

[ezdotjpg]

I have a silly little question about your silly little comic!! I love your versions of the Links so much. Loft is such a mood FOR REAL!!

anywho,

How did you come up with the original concept? If this is somewhat spoilery- then don’t answer it. But i’m more so wondering what let you to go

“i want to make a comic about the silly links accidentally breaking and fucking everything up. also trauma lots of trauma”

Did you come to the understanding of, looking at other peoples AU’s? Or was it something in the games itself? I’m just curious on what your thought process was when brainstorming originally yk?

Also, small bonus question/comment thingy

when making backgrounds- like Zelda and Wilds house or Lofts home with Zelda and Groose- did you base the backgrounds on your own ideas of what the characters would live in? Like if they’d have clutter or silly little notes in the background. I love how your backgrounds are just- chefs kiss- so simple but shows us a glimpse into the characters mental state (as all good rooms do *stares at my messy one*)

that is all, i very much so enjoy your comic. it’s gotten me through the bad Wednesdays of highschool. Keep going!!! i am excited to see it’s conclusion.

waugh thank you so much!!!!!

And I guess the answer to that first question is all of them above? Bonus Links is, of course, an extremely derivative work. LU was my first introduction to the links-meet-au format, so I’d be remiss not to give credit where credit is due! Probably many ideas I’ve absorbed from fics I’ve read, and headcanons I vibe with that come from the wider fandom. The idea for Bonus Link’s actual plot though originally started from my fascination with Skyward Sword’s lore. I know not everyone’s a huge fan of how much that game retconned, Demise’s “curse” in particular, but there’s a lot of ideas in that game that I find REALLY interesting, especially in ways that the game doesn’t really acknowledge at all. How would Skyward Sword Link feel, if he found out he truly didn’t finish the job? That the cycle continues on and on beyond him? That was the jumping off point.

Because it’s a cycle, I get a lot of ideas from like, which Links have experienced similar events, and how their experiences compare and contrast. What becomes history, and what actually happened? And I also use a lot of my own experiences playing the games as inspiration! I’d played as many as I had access to when I started the au in 2021, but I’ve made it my mission to play every single game a Link is featured in before they get introduced in the comic lol. Still got a few more to go, but I’m almost there!

As for the second question, absolutely! If I’m showing someone’s home in the comic, I try really hard to add details that tell you something about them. At the very least, I want them to look lived in lol

like, Slate still having the champion’s weapons on display in his house. Zelda’s mostly taken over the first floor as her workshop, even adding a Sheikah tech furnace somehow. She’s filled her room with pictures she’s taken on the walls. She’s got a sand seal plush from Riju, a Sheikah jacket from Impa. Her workspace is a little cluttered!

On the other hand, Slate’s room upstairs looks a little less personal. He’s got some pictures on the wall, and some plants growing from around hyrule (that Zelda has kind of commandeered for research lol) but otherwise he’s left it how Bolson and co furnished it. If anything, it’s mostly just for storage. He doesn’t actually spend much time sleeping here, but Zelda still doesn’t want to take it from him.

Loft, Groose and Zelda’s room is very cozy ( I should have added more blankets. Imagine like 4 times the amount of pillows and blankets) and tidy, but there’s still a little mess— shoes left out, basket of poorly folded clothes, etc. Cute knickknacks, mostly made by loft and groose! It’s not in this sc but groose’s comb is somewhere I think lol

Idk if iced shared this detail before, but Loft put a lot of effort into designing and carving (probably with some assistance) these columns for the house! Even though carving’s hard for him these days. It was his biggest contribution.

anyway, those are some of my thoughts!! I’m so happy to hear you’ve been enjoying the comic! Thanks for reading!!

[mazzystar24]

It must be nice to be able to be a multishipper, but Buddie are so deeply rooted in my brain so it'll need to be surgically removed, I'm afraid, before I can ship either Buck or Eddie with anyone else on the same level 😩

I also wasn't that bitter about BTs at first, but for some reason almost from the very start they didn't just stay in their cozy shipping room, but they decided to force the idea of Buddie never happening on everyone... And the worst part is those were former Buddie shippers!! And suddenly Eddie is the straightest of the straights, Buddie is nothing but platonic and never going to be anything else, and T is the bestest boyfriend in the world (even if it wasn't supported by canon at all) - any contrary opinion was met with aggression.

I'm not against them shipping their ship, but a lot of them seem to be against us shipping ours😅 (and we're also the root of all evil, but worry not - BTs and multishippers have come to save everyone from us).

Sorry, I think I am being rude😩 it wasn't my intention

Yeah the multi shipping life isn’t for me neither but they must be having the time of their lives Hannah Montana-ing it (it’s the besttttt of both worlds)

No same at first i was like ooo I’ll let this play out and enjoy this brief little segue but then tommy got more and more insufferable so I was like okay I hate him but that’s fine but so did certain fans and I’m like okay I hate him and gimme bt bones rn

Like also what I find funny abt the trying to disprove buddie part (other than the fact most were shipping them the day before) is like if the concept of buddie is so threatening to you that you feel a need to like disprove it or make arguments with ppl abt it then maybe them being canon isn’t so crazy

Like I’ve seen chimney/ravi shippers, BOBBY AND BUCK SHIPPERS and so many crazy combos that I’ll be like woah I wanna study their mind but I’m not feeling a need to disprove cos ik no way in hell is that a real combo or threat, like at most I block people who’s ships make me feel particularly irked like the bobby and buck one

Hell even common ones like Josh/eddie is a combo I personally don’t fuck with but I’m not out here starting arguments over

So the fact they feel a need to argue over it I find extremely telling for one

You’re not being rude dw a little sarcastic but so am I so it’s fine 😭😭

[thrashkink-coven]

Answering FAQs I get ab Lucifer and I

1. Are you godspoused?

A: Nope! Lucifer and I’s relationship might emulate some elements of god spousal, but the “label” I would use for our relationship is “devoted”. In the same way that people can have intimate relationships with their friends, I happen to have an intimate relationship with Lucifer. But I wouldn’t consider him to be my boyfriend or husband, for some reason the concept of that feels odd to me.

2. Does your irl partner know about your relationship with Lucifer?

A: Lol look at our room. Yes. It was my bf who got me my Lucifer ring :)) my bf is not a pagan but she is finds the whole thing interesting. My bf likes to hear about what I’m up to with Lucifer, and Lucifer absolutely adores hearing about my partner.

3. When did you first start seeing Lucifer intimately?

A: Probably about a year or so into our working relationship. I already did sex magic and things of the sort so he kinda just helped out. I immediately felt very connected and familiar with him when we first started working together. Over time we just got closer.

4. Have Lucifer and you ever argued?

A: Lucifer is very difficult to argue with because he’s really great at diffusing aggression and he loves to debate. He doesn’t back away from confrontation. Have we disagreed? Constantly. He loves to challenge me, even if only to test my convictions. But I wouldn’t say we’ve ever really “argued”. I don’t think he’s ever done anything that made me hold a grudge against him. There have only been like extremely minor instances of him crossing a boundary and he apologized profusely.

5. Does Lucifer get mad if you forget to give offerings?

A: I didn’t approach Lucifer looking for a deal or outcome, we have a contract but not a transactional one, so I’m not really “obligated” to give him offerings just like he’s not obligated to give me anything… because we didn’t make a business deal. If you approach a demon and ask for a promotion at work then you’ll probably be obligated to hold up whatever your end of the deal was. I kinda just… wanted to get to know Lucifer so that didn’t really apply.

Lucifer doesn’t particularly demand offerings, he makes requests but that’s only because he knows I like giving offerings. He has never gotten mad at me for not giving him things.

6: What are Lucifer’s pet peeves?

A: Hypocrisy and lack of accountability. If you’re not willing to admit you’re wrong sometimes you’re never going to be willing to learn better.

7. How do you start seeing a deity romantically or intimately?

A: 🤷‍♂️ idk. I didn’t really plan to get swept up by Lucifer it kinda just happened. one day a god went “I like this one I think I’ll keep him” and I’ve been winning ever since.

8. What does Lucifer look like to you?

A: Gorgeous 💕. no but to be real Lucifer doesn’t always appear to me as a human (serpent Lucifer has been v prevalent lately, that’s really cool). oftentimes he appears as a twinkling light or a place like a garden or river. When he does appear humanoid he usually has long, curly, gold or black hair depending on whether he’s the morning or the evening star. He’s always illuminated as if he’s standing in front of the sun. Sunlight shines through his hair. Similarly his eyes are either blue, or red depending. They’re sharp and intense like smouldering coals. He’s had many different shades of skin, and he usually appears male aligned with some feminine traits. He’s built strong. There have been occasions in dreams where he’s carried me around in one arm. If ever he has wings they are pearl white, six in total. He can be the size of a regular human or massive like a planet. If he’s wearing clothes he usually wears robes or very loose fitting fabrics, lots of jewelry. It sometimes appears like he’s wearing makeup. He likes to look elegant.

Here are a couple pics I found that kinda emulate him:

It’s also worth noting that my Lucifer’s appearance is definitely most probably highly informed by my human partner. Their hair and facial features are somewhat similar.

9. Has Lucifer ever scared you?

A: Honestly yes, not in the way that I thought I was in any danger, but I’ve seen how terrifying he can be. He’s never directed any aggression towards me, but I’ve seen him in his more warlike archetypes and I understand why he is often considered to be the King or Emperor of Hell. I’ve seen him get extremely protective and vengeful, which is a hard contrast to his usually very chillaxed vibe. The thing about Lucifer is that he doesn’t rage, he stews and simmers and festers and plots until he knows exactly how to destroy you.

10. What’s your favourite thing about Lucifer?

A: His patience and leadership. Dude is just so fucking good at explaining things and guiding you through concepts. Physically I would say his voice. His voice comes in this very low hum that’s just delicious to listen to, especially when he’s singing. like a really nice bass guitar. He also smells very great.

[another-lost-mc]

is it bad that as much as i like your ocs (theyre amazing, i love them!), i really miss seeing you write for the canon characters

You know, that’s valid. The proportion of Canon and OC content here lately has been way off. It’s sort of the elephant in the room I ignore every time I think about Obey Me and my inspiration automatically focuses on the world building or OC potential instead.

There’s a few reasons why I’ve been less interested in writing canon lately.

1. Disappointment with Nightbringer. I’ll be honest, I’m not sure why this game exists (except to overhaul the franchise’s monetization structure). The premise and lore payoff hasn’t been that great for me personally - it feels more like an AU rather than a canon addition/continuation of the OG game. It feels like we still end up with more loose ends and questions that we don’t have (and may never get) answers for. I’m still waiting for Raphael and Mephisto to be dateable, by the way. As a result, my focus when writing OM content has been using the OG story/characterization using the odd piece from NB that makes sense, and that leads into…

2. My favourite parts of Obey Me are under-developed in canon. I enjoy most of the canon cast, I really do. But I want more Celestial Realm lore, I want more Michael (and not NB HM Lesson 20 Michael), I want more angels in general. They’ve mentioned Uriel a couple times now, give me that angel please and thank you! (No longer relevant, I wrote a version of him myself.)

The world feels so empty at times but there’s so much potential. Parts of the Devildom are more fleshed out with NB adding to it, but what about the other realms? What’s going on with the Sorcerer’s Society and the reapers? I never know if the interesting hints of lore we get are truly relevant or if it’s just something the game decided was convenient for a plot point and never gets mentioned again. NB has been great for Solomon fans since it’s practically a Solomon x MC fanfic written with a forced roommates trope, and that might be the best thing about it from a lore perspective.

My OCs were originally meant to explore gaps in the world and give the canon characters room to grow beyond the one or two defining traits the game keeps repeating over and over. I like writing Mammon when I can have him interact with Karasu, I like imagining the types of angels other exchange students might meet in the Celestial Realm, I like giving a name and personality to the mysterious owner of The Fall where so many events and Devilgram stories take place. Admittedly, it was refreshing to see that other people enjoyed reading about them or imagining them paired with their own MCs/OCs too. I call them the OC Fan Club with genuine affection.

3. It’s not something I talk about often but before I began writing fanfiction, I was mostly focused on concepts or outlines for original stories. Writing supernatural and horror themes always been my interest as a writer so anything with demons/angels/other monstrous races automatically catches my eye.

It’s a little mean to say, but half-baked worlds like the Devildom are a lot of fun to use as a foundation for expanding my own ideas. The OC story I’ve been working on is one way for me to write longer and more complex pieces which is the type I like most. Granted, it includes nearly the entire game cast and it explores the Devildom and Celestial Realm in ways that tie together some of my favourite personal headcanons and characterization. It focuses on angel characters and the history/culture of the Celestial Realm which are two of my main interests for this game. It’s a huge project - the outline is nearly 20k words on its own, it’s practically a novel divided into four sections with 30+ chapters and an epilogue. I can’t even express how excited I am when I get to work on this.

That being said, I do like writing canon content and I’ve been missing it more lately. I got burnt out when it felt like I was losing interest in NB and was pushing myself to keep writing anyway which isn’t great.

Today someone left a nice comment on something I wrote a while back, an angst piece for the demon brothers. I haven’t read it in a while and after going back and re-reading it, I was like, “Huh, I don’t remember liking this as much as I do.” And then I remembered something in my drafts that’s been rotting away, half-edited and ignored, and realized that I wanted to finish it. So, I’ve been slowly tinkering with things while I work on my angels’ story. Some of my plans are ambitious and real life distractions (mostly health related, like my recent bout of COVID) haven’t helped.

If I learned anything about my writing since starting this blog, it’s that:

writing what you’re passionate about is more fulfilling than writing what seems trendy or popular

giving and receiving feedback and fostering friendships/supporting each other keeps the community thriving

self care self care self care

Anyway. My goal has always been to write about the things I love about the game world and the things I create that are inspired by it. It’s a delicate balancing act that I’m still working on.

[keepingupwithzaynmalik]

How Zayn Drew Inspiration From Chris Stapleton and Embraced Honesty on New Single ‘Alienated’

On the latest episode of The Breakdown, the musician explains how listening to Stapleton and Willie Nelson inspired the songwriting on his upcoming album Room Under the Stairs, out May 17

Zayn could have easily wrapped his real-life experiences around convoluted metaphors and hidden messages on his latest single, “Alienated.” And he might have on previous records, but as the musician explained on the latest episode of Rolling Stone‘s The Breakdown: he isn’t trying to trick you.

“I feel like the whole intention behind this record is I’ve sang a lot of stuff in there that’s real straightforward. There’s not too many mind games going on. So I’m hoping people will understand the concept themselves and get with it,” Zayn said. “It’s a special song, in that sense, because it really solidified that I could do something in this space for myself.”

“Alienated” marked a significant starting point for his upcoming album Room Under the Stairs (out May 17), which Zayn wrote and produced with a technician before bringing on Dave Cobb as co-producer. It puts aside the glossy R&B of his earlier releases in favor of a more rustic and soulful sound inspired by the likes of Chris Stapleton and Willie Nelson.

“First idea for this song came to me maybe about five or six years ago now, when I was living in [Pennsylvania] and just in a place where felt like I wanted to write something that was a little bit more elevated, and a little bit more insightful than the music that I’d been putting out at that point,” Zayn explained. “I just got in the studio and kind of felt it. I was just feeling alienated at the time in certain situations. That was kind of the sentiment behind the whole idea of the song, so that’s why I felt it fit as the title. And I explain in the song exactly why I’m feeling that way, how I have dealt with those situations, and how it’s felt in that place.”

Zayn sums up “Alienated” with an equally straightforward description: “It’s fucking honest.” And that descriptor extends beyond the songwriting, influencing his approach to the record’s production as well. “Everything that was in there from the beginning stayed to the end. I didn’t feel myself having to censor anything,” he shared. “And that was obviously another great thing about making music like this, you know, all the imperfections and all the things that are in there are intentional and genuine. I kept them in for that reason, I wanted it to feel that way.”

He added: “Obviously, Dave Cobb just elevated it, made it sound way better because that’s what he does. We brought him on to to bring the final magic to the song, but the original production was just me and my technician. I think the main focus on this record for the instruments was always guitar. It was always going to be that. Originally it was gonna be just an acoustic-sounding record where it was just gonna be guitars and maybe drums. And then eventually, as the idea developed more and built more identity, we started to figure out homes for other instruments that could be used on that, too.”

Speaking about collaborating with Zayn in a recent interview with Rolling Stone, Cobb praised his approach to retaining the raw emotions in his performances. “What got me about Zayn was his voice, you can hear love, loss, pain, triumph and humanity in it. I feel as if this record is removing the glass from his spirit directly to his fans,” he said. “Zayn has really created his own universe on this record, he really has no fear and is speaking straight from his soul.”

VIA ROLLING STONE