#like ill be happy for a day maybe but the last time i was genuinely happy and doing good was a year ago for maybe a few days

[brf-rumortrackinganon]

So whats your thoughts about the rumors that William and Catherine aren't living together? People have made claims about distance in their interactions (Personally I've not seen that recently) also seen references to the Remembrance Day wreath (he signed the card and not her) but that can simply be excused by timing, maybe she was busy and couldn't sign.

It seems to come down to the fact that shes out of public sight. Personally Catherine strikes me as a person who would push through for the job. If she was upset at William she wouldn't hesitate to make her boundaries known (ie the hand dodge) I've never bought the whole "they don't do PDA and thats why she shrugged him off" I think they were fighting and simply didn't want to be touched. Shes way to savvy to have an over reaction to "following the rules".

Which is normal, no couple is 100% happy 100% of the time. Disagreements happen and sometimes theres awkwardness. Anyways so to me Catherine won't hesitate to show her emotions in that way. But the stretch of the recent "separation" theory seems weird. She's very much a family woman and I don't think she'd want to separate the family. I think she'd be like any normal person and live with her spouse while working through their issues.

Or maybe they saw the backlash to their previous awkwardness and have gotten better at covering and ARE separated? Idk. In all reality its a non issue and I'm not genuinely concerned just curious as to your take.

Mostly I just wanted to send a non Sussex related, I to am tired of them and the rehashing of what next for them is getting drawn out lol. So sorry if you've answered something like this recently about the Wales please feel free to ignore in that case.

I think it's people trying to make news where there isn't.

Yes, on the surface, there is something happening to the Waleses: Kate disappeared, William grew a beard, William lost a ton of weight, there's that comment about Charlotte bursting into tears when she saw him with the beard for the first time, William and Kate made a very random out-of-the-ordinary last-minute trip to Balmoral, the Waleses backing out of the Olympics trip last-minute over COVID concerns (but not having any COVID concerns for other events that summer), a very touchy-feeling video commercial in Sepember, etc.

For me, I subscribe to "when you hear hoofbeats, think horses not zebras" theory. And for me, these hoofbeats all point towards something stressful happening in the Waleses' home, which they disclosed in January and March and September was related to Kate's health.

And you know what, maybe William and Kate did have a temporary separation during this time. After all, the prevailing medical guidance says that people who are undergoing chemotherapy a) have lowered immune systems so they're more susceptible to illness and since the Waleses have three small children who are publicly out and about at school/extracurriculars and several pets and William's still kinda working (aka Kate's surrounded by walking, breathing, living germ factories) and b) depending on their treatment, may be able to make others in their household unwell via their bodily fluids in shared spaces (for instance, when she coughs or if she shares the bathroom or if she's throwing up) so why wouldn't Kate want to lower the risk of not just her own infection, but her family's risks of infection?

So it all makes perfect sense to me, and now that Kate's treatment is over and she's putting everything back together, the Waleses are coming back together as a couple, as a marriage, as a family.

But for other people, the "when you hear hoofbeats, think horses not zebras" theory might mean the very real statistic that the risk of divorce is two times greater in heterosexual couples where the wife has been diagnosed with cancer (or other significant health issue).

And other people still, they might think this is a zebra, in which case this isn't cancer - this is a cover-up for a Waleses separation or something more serious is happening to William and since Charles is in crisis, William also can't be in crisis (similar to when the BRF didn't disclose William caught some serious COVID because it was right when The Queen and Charles had caught/were recovering from their own bouts of COVID).

So for me, I think because there's nothing else happening in the royal space that's newsworthy - no foreign visits, the diplomatic events were kinda boring and unglamorous, etc. - other people are looking for something to talk about and when there isn't something to talk about, they start picking at threads trying to unravel a story.

And right now, the only thread that can be picked apart is "what's going on with the Waleses?"

To put an end to that thread-picking (imaginary or otherwise), something else in the media cycle needs to come along and push it out. Unfortunately we're in a "dead" time of year where there isn't a lot happening - there isn't a big holiday movie, there's no natural disaster, no one died unexpectedly (like Kobe Bryant unexpectedly), the US government hasn't transferred power yet, sports are kinda dull, there's no Diddy-level scandal. etc. No new topic has really galvanized the press or social media to make everyone change gears and talk about something else.

I think the best chances of pushing the Waleses out of the speculative news are with the Golden Globes on Sunday Jan 5th, Jimmy Carter's funeral on Thursday Jan 9th, and/or new developments from Harry's lawsuit. But even still, those chances are slim because Thursday is also Kate's birthday, which means another round of media attention on the Waleses - how will they recognize her birthday on social media? Will there be a Waleses' church walk on the weekend? Will there be any exclusive stories by KP-supported rota reporters?

If I really had to guess, the Waleses will be pushed out of the media cycles (both traditional media and online/social media) on January 20th when the US government transitions from Biden-Harris to Trump-Vance. The transition usually dominates American media for a few weeks and if Trump has the same kind of executive orders up his sleeve that he did after his first inauguration, it will also be dominating headlines around the world.

(Also I think Carter's state funeral taking place on January 9th means William probably isn't coming. I don't think he'd want to spend all of Kate's birthday away from her, especially given the kind of 2024 he's had. I expect the UK's official representative will be Anne or one of the ex-PMs, if not Starmer or his wife. There is a chance it could be Camilla, but most likely not since Diana's still really popular here and Camilla, well, isn't but Charles may try.)

(Also they're predicting some snowy weather for us here in DC next week so I honestly wouldn't be surprised if plans for the state funeral change last-minute and we don't see all those foreign dignitaries fly in for it.)

[lovecrazedpup]

when my friend is at work so i cant cry in call with him !

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[whokilledsamara]

I loved both of ur scarletella hcs 💕 would it be possible to get more with mr crawling?

MR. CRAWLING HC {N/SFW}

a Mr. Crawling x reader list of sfw and nsfw hc. {an : ahh ty! ofc! i love him hes so puppy coded}

warnings!: smut, nsfw, soft sex, switch!reader, cunnilingus, blowjob, public {?}, slight marking, afab and amab genitalia described.

SFW HC

a list of sfw hc on what it would be like to date Mr. Crawling

for starters, Mr. Crawling has got to be the perfect lover out of all of the boys.

hes sweet, caring, and just a touch of yandere. {no where near as much as Mr. Scarletella...}

in a relationship with him, it would be like normal just x10.

he is a very touchy lover. when he is crawling he likes to be as close to you as possible. he says its for your safety but you know its more than that.

at night when you are sleeping, he stays near you constantly. he doesn't need to sleep, but if you let him, he will hold you while you sleep in his arms.

he goes out of his way to find gifts and food for you, even engaging with the others to GET it.

if you choose to take him home, {why wouldnt you...} then he will become almost like a housewife.

hes a fast learner so he can easily figure out how to clean, MAYBE cook, and really anything else. hes such a good boy!

speaking of a good boy.. he LOVES praise. he will do anything he can do just to hear you praise him. it really sets off his endorphins when he hears those sweet sounds of love come out of your mouth.

though he doesn't understand how it works, he likes kisses! he loves pressing his lips to yours or you giving him face kisses, like forehead or cheeks.

his hair is a big thing, he wants you to play with it or experiment with it. if you put his hair in styles, like braids or buns, he will be so happy !!

as for baths, he needs your help to teach him. in the underworld, smell wasnt really prominent too much. and there wasnt really a way for him to stay clean. his skin is sensitive, but he likes when you help wash him. he does enjoy baths!

his biggest concern is his face. he is very insecure about it, so PLEASE constantly remind him and tell him that he isn't ugly.

he gets so giddy at any sort of touches, even accidental.

he has major jealousy issues and gets upset if you talk to other people, so make sure you give him regular attention. {he could never be mad at you hehe}

you could look like/wear ANYTHING and he would think you are the most beautiful thing alive.

NSFW HC

a list of nsfw hcs on your sex life with Mr. Crawling

you might have to teach him what sex even is honestly. being locked up in an abandoned apartment complex with no sexual activity will make it hard to even know what it is.

hes so cute during sex. guaranteed. at first he is surprised you even want to have sex with him, like he is genuinely shocked.

once he is out of his clothes he is already a whimpering mess. still semi worried you are joking.

when i tell you he doesnt last, i mean it. a few thrusts in and he is already cumming. dont worry, he has unlimited stamina, and can go for hours or as long as you want.

after a few times, he learns that he LOVES giving you head. whether afab or amab, he is all up in that.

very submissive during sex, but is still the one manhandling you.

as said earlier, call him a good boy and he could probably just orgasm from that. praise is definitely a huge turn on.

he is a very fast learner {as are all of them}, almost instantly finding those spots inside of you.

he has very long, slim fingers. take that as you will.

he likes having his hair pulled. wants you to grab ahold of it and use him.

anywhere, and anytime you need him, he will be there. he will even find a random corner and go to town on you if you wish.

absolutely would have bloody sex. any blood, doesnt matter.

ill write more another day on a separate fic, for now here is a small paragraph for him going down on you. {could be afab or amab depending on how you look at it}

{ made by @whokilledsamara }

[citricacidprince]

doodle request on relativity falls - id love 2 see ur vers of fiddleford and where he stands in the story!! :DD

Of course!!!

Oh Fiddleford, my dearly beloved Fiddleford, he’s just a little guy who makes machines that hurt people and I love him for that <3

In my Relativity Falls AU Fidds is a kid from Tennessee who moved to Gravity Falls pretty recently, like in the past year.

He’s still really handy with mechanics, like a genuine prodigy, but he’s so riddled with anxiety that it’s a battle to get him to share any of his projects outside of his robots he makes to get revenge on those who wrong him!

He really does like hanging out with the twins, he thinks their both fun and is very happy they actually wanna be his friend, however their constant ‘Getting into weird and magical trouble’ is so stress inducing to him he’s going to get gray hairs by the time he’s 20 (Dipper can relate-)

I don’t have a lot of things solidified for him yet, other than I want him to be EXTREMELY tempted to use the Memory Gun on himself, to forget a lot of the horrifying things he’s seen over the summer, but is stopped by Candy (The inventor of the gun) at the last second. You see, Candy didn’t spiral like Fiddleford did in the show, she only ever used the memory gun on herself once. However, she used it to erase every bit of knowledge she ever learned about the weirdness of Gravity Falls, and Candy had spent YEARS of her life dedicated to it, she was arguably more curious about the weirdness of Gravity Falls than Dipper was. He was only curious out of morbid curiosity, she saw the whimsy and wonder in it all. So when Candy used the Memory Gun on herself and erased such a huge chunk of her memory it cracked her psyche, not leaving her a rambling and insane kook like Fiddleford, but more oblivious and unaware to everything around her while also being a liiiiittle ‘not all there’.

Between the two of them Candy definitely got the better end of the stick. Fiddleford was deemed insane and used the memory gun over and over again until he couldn’t even remember who he was anyone, his life falling apart. Candy used it once to make sure no one could ever use her research to hurt anyone after she learned her lab partner was literally working with an otherworldly being who could go into peoples heads and it cracked her mind because her research WAS her entire life, leaving her oblivious and dazed. However, Candy managed to find people who cared about her and were willing to care for her despite this. Sure she lives in the dump, but whenever a storm comes through or she gets hungry she can always go up to her friends Grenda, Mabel Mason, or even Pacifica at some point to help her out. Fiddleford had no one.

I want Candy to give Fidds a little pep talk, convincing him that despite those memories being scary and uncomfortable he’s going to need all of them because they’re what will help him grow as a person. He can’t just pick and choose which ones he wants because one day he’ll realize he doesn’t have any memories left to burn.

Maybe there could even be a moment where Fidds tries to use the memory gun on Candy because he convinces himself he NEEDS it and doesn’t want to deal with the consequences of hating choice, but freezes up when he realizes it does work on her anymore. The realizes what he just did because of how badly he wanted that memory gun seconds after he did it and starts to tremble, dropping the memory gun as he begins uncontrollably crying that he ‘didn’t mean it’ and he’s sorry. Candy wouldn’t hold it against him, just seeing a scared kid who was so desperate to make the mind numbing anxiety that he would do anything, and she’d hug him and tell him it’s okay before leading him back to the rest of the group.

Fiddleford makes me soooo ill I love him <3

[parkerluvsu]

day 16: 69 <3

"i feel bad"

you look up from your spot on the floor, unceremoniously removing arts dick from your mouth. "what?" you're confused, this situation far removed from how art usually is during blowjobs, all drooly and blabbery. "i- it's unfair isn't it?" art is obviously still stuck in the clouds, but he's trying his best to make you understand. "what's unfair?" when art is in this headspace, it's best to ask simple questions. "well.. you're making me feel really good.." you nod and encourage him to keep speaking, "but im not making you feel good right now.. isn't that unfair?"

you smile, comforted by the fact that art is so predictable in his kindness. "maybe by your standards it is.. but you know that making you feel good makes me feel good art" he pouts at your response, not really believing you. "really..? i just wish there was a way i could make you feel good at the same time.." art sighs. you would think he's being sarcastic if you didn't know that art genuinely doesn't know a lot about sex. "there is actually.. if you wanted to try it?" art blushes, nodding his head. he's always happy to learn from you about anything, but especially about sex.

you smile, and crawl up onto the bed with him. "okay.. it might seem a little awkward at first but you should trust me, it'll feel good alright?" art nods along with your words, letting you brush his hair out his eyes. "okay, just lay down.. put your head on the pillow.." he follows your orders, his dick slapping his stomach as he moves. "alright, so it's just gonna feel like im sitting on your face.." art grins at that "but im gonna be facing your dick.. and then, you know, you'll be able to eat me out at the same time that ill be able to suck you off" you say lightly, knowing that you may be a little nervous, but you want to be confident for art.

he nods, looking up at you with blue doe eyes that make you melt every time. you move across the sheets and turn your body away from him to hover your pussy over his face, leaning forward to lick a stripe up his dick. art shivers and moans, his hands coming up to grasp at your ass, spreading the soft skin open for him. you almost choke against him at the feeling, unable to stop yourself from basically riding arts face. art doesn't mind though, from his satisfied moans and hums into you it sounds like he would like nothing more but to drown in the holy water between your thighs.

arts legs quickly come to rest next to your face, his lean thighs forcing you to stay on his dick. you try your best to not gag around art, but the way his dick curves upwards in your throat makes it hard. not like arts complaining though, being a little sadistic in the way he moans a louder when your throat tries to force him out. you can practically feel his heart beat in his dick, and you're sure if you took it out of your mouth now it would be a ruddy purple. art is humming into your pussy, his tongue finding your clit over and over again, matching the strokes you're making on his dick. you move your arm out from between your bodies to reach around his leg, fingers sloppily rubbing and toying with his balls.

arts body bends into your touch, as he sobs into your pussy, using the last of his energy to shake his head back and forth against you. you moan around his dick and art whines high and loud, his hips starting to cant into your mouth. ropes and ropes of sticky, salty cum shoot into your mouth, spilling out as you pull your lips off of him. art happily lets you ride his face until you cum, his dick still twitching when you moan his name and babble about how good he's being. art finishes you off with a hum, sending vibrations into you and making you clench, your orgasm sending shivers all through your body. you eventually remember that art needs to breathe, swinging your body around to sit beside him.

"are you okay? im sorry i kind of got carried away.." you ask art, who's happily blissed out looking at you. "yeah.. im- that was great.. amazing even" he replies, making you giggle. "yeah? so you'd wanna do it again sometime?" you reach down and push his sweaty golden hair away from his face. arts eyes immediately light up "yes.. yes please i really do.." <3

[bg-brainrot]

Failed Every Insight Check and Fell all the Harder (Astarion x GN!Tav)

Featuring: Astarion x Rogue!Tav

Series: Fits into Love at First Knife, AO3 link here

Companion piece to: Failed a Dex Save and Fell for You

Summary: After a few months of traveling together, Astarion has begun to experience some new feelings around you. After one fateful day in Moonrise Towers, he finally figures out what those feelings are.

Tags: Astarion POV, POV Second Person, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Awkward Fluff, tw: mentions of astarion's past and all that comes with it, tw: mentions of araj scene, Feelings Realization, Jealousy

A/N: here comes the awkward, fluffy Astarion figuring out his feelings Valentine’s special. He’s a hot mess, of course. (happy Early Valentine’s because I will be busy on Valentine’s) And thanks to everyone who voted for this one!

Word count: ~4.8k

Ever since your group entered the Shadowlands, something has been bothering Astarion. He hadn't noticed at first– or rather, had tried his best to ignore it. But, as time goes on, he’s finding it more and more difficult to brush aside.

It had started out small. An odd pain in the pit of his stomach.

What was that? he'd thought, holding a hand to his abdomen in concern. Perhaps he was just hungry, but it certainly didn’t feel like the ever-present hunger in his belly. No, that was a dull, continuous ache. This? This felt like something was weighing him down. Maybe I’m ill. I shouldn’t mention it to anyone, lest Lae’zel slit my throat in my sleep.

Besides, the pain didn’t happen often. He noticed it a distinct few times.

Once, when you first entered the Shadowlands. He’d just watched you bend down, hands plucking at something off the side of the cursed lands’ road. He thought momentarily that he ought to stop you, that none of you knew what could be lurking in its magical darkness. But that tinge of worry was promptly replaced by that same gods awful pit in his stomach. 

Because there you were, presenting your party’s cleric with your spoils. You were gifting Shadowheart a night orchid– had remembered that she mentioned loving them. You bore the woman’s wretched joke with a smile. Disgusting, Astarion thought. No wonder my stomach feels uncomfortable, what a pathetic little exchange.

Like everything that had bothered him in the last couple of months since finding himself free of Cazador, he decided to forget the feeling. Life is his to take full advantage now, why let something like that affect him?

Or so he thought until the next time the feeling made its return.

You had just arrived at the Last Light Inn as a group, found shelter through the Harpers’ well-established safe haven. Astarion was quite happy to be rid of the shadows, content to cozy up in an inn. He figured, if he played his cards right, you may even let him partake in your blood or ask for a bit of fun.

Then your party found Dammon. Equipped with Infernal Iron and one blazing hot barbarian, Dammon made magic happen in a matter of moments. 

Astarion was glad. As much as the group was a bit much at times, he understood Karlach’s struggle with her body all too well. She deserved this small victory in reclaiming her body. 

His feelings of genuine sympathy were short-lived though because a moment later you were wrapping your arms around the tiefling’s body. It was a test, of course, to see if Dammon’s fusing had worked. But there it was again, the feeling in his stomach. This time it felt twice as heavy, a lead ball in his guts. Maybe I should let someone know, he thought. This can’t be good.

But the sensation was soon forgotten as your group settled into the Last Light Inn. Old allies were in some miserable new states– requiring even more help, gods– and new acquaintances were made. It was all rather dull for Astarion.

The one time Astarion perked up was when you went head-to-head with the head Harper. He chuckled under his breath when you outsmarted the old crone, Jaheira. That’s right, Harper. Don’t mess with my protector.

Your first night at the inn was capped off with a bit of revelry: a game of Truth or Dare. 

Astarion could sense your reluctance to play. You’d been acting odd all day, stiff and awkward around him. He saw this as the perfect opportunity to tease you to the high celestial plane– in fact, he already knew what he wanted to ask you. “You are going to regret this so much," he'd said to you from across the table.

Then the game began, and the deep, uncomfortable feeling never left his core.

Each and every companion received your attention throughout the game, in one way or another. Even that damned smith, Dammon, was given a dare from you. And Astarion just sat there, not even earning a glance, his mood growing more and more sour.

When, at last, he was able to taunt you with his question, you were far too in your cups to give a proper response. He sat on your lap, placed there from one of Shadowheart’s dares, staring into your surprised, open eyes, wishing that he'd thought of an easier question for an inebriated version of you.

The group had shooed you both out of the game upon seeing your state, though Astarion didn't mind. He'd much rather leave the lot of them and tease you by himself.

Once you were alone, you answered his question. That he, Astarion, was your favorite and for all manner of incredulous, unbelievable reasons. He’d expected you to say him. He’d asked to hear your praise, confirm your attachment in the name of his plan to seduce you. All the same he was left uncomfortable, juggling the sudden and unabashed flattery. Being praised for his looks was one thing but for being… himself?

The feeling in his stomach grew. Suddenly his lungs felt it, his undead heart felt it. What in the sweet hells is the matter with me? he thought, as he helped lay your drunken, passed out form to bed later that night. He hadn’t felt a sensation like this before– he hated it. 

Then you reached out to him in your sleep, and he froze. Something about the touch quietened the pain under his ribs, and so he extended his fingers, gently touching your brow as you fell asleep. See? I’m fine, he assured himself. I truly am just ravenous.

__

He continued this way for several days in the Shadowcursed lands.

One moment, he was perfectly fine, hacking and slashing at a Shambling Mound with abandon. The next, he would look over at you, see you laughing at something Karlach said, and it felt like an iron ingot had made its way into his insides.

Damned tiefling woman. I’m far funnier than her, you know, he thinks, resheathing his knives with a little too much gusto. The sound of your laughter rang in his head for the rest of the evening, as if he were being driven to insanity by it.

The next day, you had fought a horde of Meazels. At first, Astarion thought the fight was delightful fun– the tiefling woman and the cleric kept getting teleported against their will and after his recent annoyance with both of them, he found it quite amusing. That is, until you found yourself garrotted, teleported as far away from him as possible.

He was on you in mere moments, ripping the creature off of you with his blades. It was almost as if he’d reacted instinctively and, as someone whose instincts typically led him away from danger, he found the sensation quite off-putting. Nevertheless, he'd freed you, asking, “Are you alright, darling?”

Astarion couldn’t remember what you’d even said because once he saw the marks the creatures left on you, the pit in his stomach dropped. Where there had been a heavy pressure before, there was now a sharp feeling. His eyes carefully trailed over your injuries, trying his best to focus on you and not the phantom pain building inside him.

You had been fine, nothing that a quick heal from Shadowheart couldn’t fix, but that feeling stayed in his stomach the rest of the day. It’s simply the Shadowlands, he'd thought. They not only play tricks on the mind, clearly they’re playing tricks on my body.

It was a few days later, as you helped the Harper’s deal with their lantern problem that the sensation shifted again.

Astarion watched, eyes glued to your form, as you dispatched the hideous drider, your twin blades piercing the creature in its most vulnerable spots. He’d seen you kill many monsters before, hundreds likely at this point. But something about the way your body moved in the Moonlantern’s glow, the way your face lit up as the creature’s body crumpled to the floor, caused the vampire to stop and watch.

This time, he’d felt the heavy sensation move up, somewhere just below his throat. He tried against all odds to gulp it away, but nothing seemed to work. We need to finish our business here and get out as soon as possible, he thought now, convinced it was the shadows warping his senses…

But as your travel continues, the feelings never go away. 

It’s a different pressure, it builds, it ebbs, it flows between his heart, his stomach, his torso– and each time he brushes it off. Stewing in these uncomfortable feelings, Astarion spends the week in a hazy mire, not unlike the shadows that surround you all.

Then your group finally infiltrates Moonrise.

__

Moonrise Towers, the seat of the Absolute and a once grand fortress. 

Now, Astarion can’t help but think it seems rather underutilized. Your group is walking along the empty parapets outside, which are woefully missing any sense of grandeur or ornamentation. “Darling,” he says, leaning into you slightly. “Don’t you think we ought to just kill everyone now and take the place for ourselves. Might be quite fun.”

You bark out a laugh, which he feels proud to have produced, and reply, “Maybe later. This is an infiltration mission only. Besides, once we defeat the Absolute, I’m sure there will be a vacancy.”

Astarion laughs back at you. Gods, he enjoys this. The way that he can say something that others would balk at and you will miraculously not only appreciate it, but also play along with it. Having fun with them is so easy, he thinks. And look, I’m still wearing all of my clothes! What a novel idea.

The thought is cut short when your group walks through an outside doorway into a room that can only be described as grotesque. Whoever works here clearly has some knowledge of arcana, if the ingredients and alchemical tools are anything to go by, but it smells utterly foul to Astarion.

It’s when you spot the drow woman hunched over a table in the corner that he realizes where the stench is coming from. Hells below, that woman reeks of something truly awful, he thinks, recoiling. He’d grown used to following behind you closely, but as you step forward to speak to the woman, he finds himself taking a step back instead.

The woman introduces herself as Araj Oblodra, a trader of blood– a rather poor trader, by the smell of it. She takes note of Astarion, who shuffles back instinctively, before you and her go about some kind of business with your blood. Astarion contemplates speaking up, shooing you away from her, but decides to stay back, as far away as he can remain without arousing suspicion. They can handle themselves.

Then, after the woman looks back toward him one too many times, he hears you snap, “And why are you so interested in my pale friend?” 

“Ah, yes. Perhaps there’s one more thing we could discuss,” she begins, her voice a dangerous drawl. “He’s a vampire, no? Or one of their spawn at least.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Astarion says, all-too-ready to fill his role. “We’re all friends under the Absolute. I won’t bite.”

“Oh, I’d prefer if you did,” she’s quick to respond. Her eagerness picks at Astarion’s nerves, and he raises an eyebrow at her. Araj doesn’t deign to give him another moment’s look though, as she turns back to you. “I assume he belongs to you?”

“Excuse me?” Your voice sounds offended– on his behalf, Astarion wonders? “He’s his own person.” Your words cause the feeling in Astarion’s stomach to flip, and, as much as he wants to come to his own defense, he finds himself quite content to hear you do it for him.

“I’m sure he really believes that. How utterly adorable,” she says with a snide chuckle. 

Adorable? he thinks, but he’s unable to interject before the woman continues to barrel forward.

The blood trader turns back to Astarion, face wrinkled with distaste as her tone changes to something a bit more confrontational, “Do you have a name, spawn?”

Her sudden shift in attitude, the proud tilt to her head, it all throws the vampire off balance as he goes to answer, “Astarion, b-but hold on!” Astarion holds up a hand to try to slow this woman’s tirade, all to no avail.

“Good. Now, Astarion, I’ve dreamt of being bitten by a vampire since I was a young girl,” Araj begins, laying out the scene for her request.

Too bad that the scene sounds quite ridiculous to Astarion. Surely he heard her incorrectly? “I’m sorry, you want to be bitten?”

The woman goes on a new insane diatribe– something about dancing with death– but Astarion can hardly be bothered. All he needs to know is that she’s offering some measly potion for being bitten and, gods, does he not want to bite this woman’s disgusting neck. Or wrist. Or really any part of her. “I will have to decline,” he says, with a gracious little bow. Your group is still infiltrating the towers, it wouldn’t do to tell Araj exactly how horrid she smells.

It’s entirely more grace than she deserved, that much is clear because she presses him again. Again, he refuses. “I gave you my answer.”

The drow scoffs, turning back to you once more, “Can’t you talk some sense into your obstinate charge?”

You, for your part, look confused. There’s a line of concern in your forehead as you look between the woman and Astarion, wondering what it is that you’re missing. “I’m surprised, Astarion. I thought you’d enjoy an opportunity like this.”

What?! he thinks, a sudden, sharp spike of anger shooting through him. He tempers his immediate rage and speaks to Araj with that same, false pleasantry she doesn’t deserve, “I’m sorry, but could you excuse us a moment?”

Astarion, not waiting for her response, pulls you aside, away from the drow’s nosy eyes and ears. Once you’re alone, he turns to you, his voice a hiss, “Are you actually asking me to do this? Trading me for some-some-some potion?”

“What’s the matter? Why would she be different from any other enemy?” you ask, leaning toward him.

Your voice is full of genuine worry, and some of his anger abates as he meets your eyes. Of course, they don’t know what they’re asking. How could they know? “Because there’s something wrong with her blood. I can smell it from here. Ugh, it’s rank.”

Now your brows furrow, and a sharp edge enters your eyes as you ask your next question, “What do you mean? What’s wrong with her blood?”

“I can’t say. It just smells… wrong. Unnatural.” His words sound pathetic to his own ears. 

Of course that’s not an excuse, Astarion laments. What am I even thinking? The potion is clearly useful. They are going to make me do this, and I may as well prepare myself. I’ve put up with worse after all.

So, he stands straight once more, ready to put on the performance of a lifetime. His tone takes on a resigned tone as he continues, “Drinking it wouldn’t kill me, but it would not be pleasant.”

You both hear a sigh from behind you. “I don’t have all day, True Soul,” Araj calls, impatiently.

Your eyes remain focused entirely on him, ignoring the woman’s irritated sigh, her entitled words. “Astarion,” you begin, and he takes a breath in preparation for your other foot to drop. “Don’t do anything you don’t want to do. And if she refuses to take no for an answer again, we’ll simply have to start our assault on the towers a bit early.”

The breath leaves him.

"Alright. Uh, thank you,” he says, feeling the tension drop from his shoulders. He’d been prepared to acquiesce, to do exactly what you’d asked of him. But this? This is something he hadn’t been prepared for. 

In a daze, Astarion makes his way back to Araj, putting on as polite of a facade as he’s still capable of making, “It's still a ‘no’, I’m afraid.”

“How very disappointing,” the blood trader says, shooting you both a disgusted look. She turns away in a huff, leaving your group alone to recover from the exchange. And leaving Astarion floundering in another new sensation.

Because once more, the feeling in the pit of his stomach has reared its ugly head– only this time it shoots through him like a bolt of lightning. He's not sure what it is, but it's stunned him into slipping off his carefully crafted mask. He turns to you once more, voice soft around its usual edges, "Thank you. I… appreciated that.”

"You have no need to thank me. It was always your choice, Astarion."

Huh.

The feeling sinks into him, settling deeper and deeper as you continue through Moonrise.

__

That night, you go to bed in your own bedroll, leaving Astarion to his meditations with a smile and a wave. It has been a long day for all of you, and it's clear from the way you take a glance back that you're worried about him.

Gods, he's worried about him.

After dealing with that vile drow woman, you'd all continued about the tower, ingratiating yourselves with even the most repugnant of creatures to appear faithful to the Absolute. But Astarion paid attention to almost none of it.

He'd stabbed when you told him it was time to stab, he'd joined your side when you called him to you, but his mind had been wholly preoccupied.

They didn't make me do it, he'd thought, as he unlocked some chest.

Well, isn't this exactly what I wanted? he'd thought, following you down some stairs.

Clearly they just fell for my charms, my masterful seduction, he'd thought, flanking a prison guard for you.

So why do I feel like this? he'd thought, staring at your back as you led the way before him.

Now, he lays here in his tent, staring at the fold of its ceiling in a rapt fascination he doesn't feel. The feeling in his stomach has stayed all day, tethering him to his thoughts with its continuous pressure.

When did I get to the point where I would follow them anywhere? Is their lack of self-preservation contagious? he asks himself, eyes narrowing in frustration. I shouldn't have gone into that horrendous tower in the first place. Then I wouldn't feel like this.

But he had.

And you'd not forced him to do so.

You'd not forced him to do anything.

They're a fool, an utter fool. I could have bitten that drow, as easy as breathing, he thinks, rolling his eyes at the thought. Close your eyes and push through, that's what I always say.

But did you want to? something in the back of his mind asks. 

Of course not, but when has what I wanted ever mattered– 

It may not have mattered under Cazador's grip, but it has always mattered to you. You're nothing like that evil man. You'd always been there for him, had managed to find trust in your heart for him, and had been genuinely kind to him.

The now-familiar feeling in his stomach seems to spread to the rest of his body, a warmth that doesn't quite feel warm. It bleeds all the way to his face and his lips curl up into an involuntary smile at the thought of you.

You– you, who had only ever been meant to play a bit role in the tragedy that is Astarion’s life. You, who had transcended your part, leaving Astarion contemplating every aspect of you in the stark solitude of his tent. 

Your beauty when you're covered in blood after a battle, the mischievous glint in your eye when you're teaching a child a sleight of hand trick– even when anger pulls your brows together and you're yelling at him for saying something particularly naughty. Each and every one makes his smile grow wider.

You, his chosen protector, are so much more than just that.

They are incredible. The thought comes to him unprompted, truly as easy as breathing.

His eyes widen in alarm, staring blankly at the tent above him.

The feeling in the pit of his stomach wasn’t an illness. Nor was it hunger. No. It was guilt. It was jealousy. It was…

Oh fuck, Astarion curses to himself. Am I in love?

Now that he has a word to the sensation, that the feeling is in his grasp, he knows he's right. He doesn't have a lot of experience with love, if any– he'd never had the luxury under Cazador's cruel gaze and he can't recall much from before that– but he knows he's right.

And hells does he wish he could crush the feeling in his hands right here and now.

Gods, you complete and utter imbecile, he thinks, hitting his head against the floor. You have things to do, goals to accomplish. They were only supposed to be a means to those goals, not a – a–

Astarion’s mind blanks as he thinks of you again, your charm, your wit, your damnable caring.

Not a companion. Not a friend. Not a lover. When did those late night trysts turn from an obligation, a part of his simple, perfect plan, into something more?

Even now, as he thinks of those nights, he brings a hand to his lips, recalling a night where you had simply stayed in his bedroll. You had kept all of your clothes on, as had he, and simply held each other as you fell asleep. Their kiss that night was delectable, he recalls, tracing the line of his lips, as if he could still feel the ghost of yours on them.

Fuck, he thinks again, dropping his hand in frustration. How could I have been so blind? How did I not nip this in the bud before it got to this disgusting pining?

But he hasn’t nipped it in the bud. The feeling has grown, unfettered, quick as a druidic plant growth, all unbeknownst to him. It has been nurtured by your attention. It has been watered by your kindness. It has become unruly in the safety of your arms.

Now what? he thinks to himself bitterly, wiping a hand across his face with a sigh. What use are these feelings when everything they were built upon is a lie? You are, after all, still playing the role he set out for you.

He considers overlooking the feelings, just as he has inadvertently done in his ignorance. It wouldn’t be of any use to tell you, of course. You could hardly feel the same way about him as he does you, and he’d rather not add another nuisance in the fight against the Absolute.

Besides, if he told you, he would have to fess up, explain his entire plan to you. What would even be left of the two of you after that?

But, he thinks to himself. Let’s say I did tell them. What could they possibly say…

“I was pretending all along too.” – gods, that would break him. That much is all too apparent from the way his undead heart aches at the thought, with a pain he couldn’t possibly feel.

“I like you, but not like that.” – maybe this was worse. Actually, it was definitely worse. He may never recover. His ego would certainly never recover.

“I have someone else that I love.” – honestly, reasonable. What did he have to offer you after all? A bloodthirsty master and the occasional snarky comment? He wouldn’t be surprised to find you in Karlach’s tent at this very moment…

“I hate you.” – he might be able to take this the best. You should hate him. He’d done nothing but lie and manipulate his way into your bedroll. Hate, well, that he understood.

“I love you, but…” – every single 'but' cut like a different, jagged blade. But we’re in danger every day? An excuse, surely. But you come with too much baggage? True, but not something he would be able to resolve. But I don’t want to be with a monster? Again, reasonable, but out of his control.

Astarion runs through scenario after scenario, each one playing with his own emotions in a new and horrendous way. In the end, he all but slaps himself out of it.

No, I cannot tell them. I absolutely must take this to my second grave, he determines, shaking the thoughts away with a few hard blinks.

But the feeling in his chest is more persistent than ever. As if giving it a name and meaning has given it a new, annoying life. He laments to himself aloud, "I may never feel like myself again.”

If this is what love does to a person, he wants no part of it.

__

The vampire didn't have a restful night's reverie, that much is apparent. His mood is foul, his body tense, and his eyes are trying their damnedest to avoid yours. 

No way, he thinks as you all set off for the day. I spun myself into a frenzy last night. Clearly. I feel absolutely nothing–

Then you turn back to him, concern lining your eyes as you address him. What had you just said? He had found himself somehow lost in your eyes, your lips, the turn of your nose… 

Shit, he thinks to himself. No, get back in control. You have only just reclaimed yourself, you can't lose yourself to something as cruel as love.

But, try as he might, his eyes can’t avoid you. 

All morning, he continues to sneak glances your way. Despite his roguish nature, he finds hiding his stares to be impossible. After all, you are the group’s leader. You are at the front, you are at his side, gods, you are everywhere. This feels like some kind of divine punishment…

You catch him looking, of course. And each time, he curses himself, gods, you idiot. You may as well broadcast your feelings to the world. And hells, how long have you felt this way?

Astarion tries futilely to act normal. This is just another day with the group in the Shadowlands. He’s not thinking about holding your hand in his. He’s not thinking about the way you look when you sleep. And, above all else, he is not thinking of your lips or the way that they move when you say his name.

Despite his inner turmoil, the world moves on. You lead the group through the Mason’s Guild, and you all manage to clear the place out easily enough.

The vampire thinks he’s finally reaching some sort of peace. Yes, this routine work he can do. No problem at all.

Then, you say something kind to Karlach, that infernally charming woman, who continues to support you at your side. Who, for all intents and purposes, should be the person who warms your bedroll at night, now that you can touch her. Not him, the man who can only make your bedroll colder. Who, even now, is avoiding your every glance.

Oh hells, he thinks, face dropping. The realization that he’s right is too much for him to bear.

Astarion stalks off, annoyed at himself and his thoughts, needing a moment to recollect himself. I can do this, he thinks. I can do this. I can–

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath once he knows he’s alone. “You’re supposed to get over this, you stupid fool. Shit. Gods dammit.”

He hears your familiar footfalls approaching and freezes, his shoulders tense with anticipation.

You find him in a pool of shadows away from the others, and he can’t help but feel like a beast that’s been cornered. He’s certain his face reflects that, reflects every bit of emotion he’s feeling as plain as could be, but your patience with him has apparently worn thin for the day. Your voice is less kind than usual when you say, “Do you need to talk?”

Seeing the anger in your face, the way that your hands are placed on your hips in annoyance, he knows he can’t keep his feelings to himself. He’ll only continue to push you away, into the strong, red arms of another.

No, he thinks, in a panic. I should– I need to–

He needs to do something about his feelings, unwanted or not. Really, he needs to tell you, regardless of what your response may be. If not, he may regret it for the rest of his undying life.

Now that he is in control of his own choices, he supposes that means all of them, for better or worse. That means even the most difficult ones. This is one of those difficult ones, isn’t it?

So Astarion swallows his pride, his anxieties, his insecurities, and settles his fate.

“Later,” he says, barely getting the words out. He blinks, and tries again, pleading with you with his eyes, “Please, just come by my tent later.”

Later, I will tell them. Everything.

[gainingfiction]

Heavily Used

Summary: This is a bit experimental (or weird), and maybe a bit predictable, but I had fun writing it. This is a story about an important relationship in a fat guy’s life, and the risk of taking things for granted. It’s also a story about coping (or not coping) with change.

Hope you enjoy!

~

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. I can only handle so much. It’s one thing to be taken for granted, that’s something we all have to live with. It’s just the total lack of acknowledgment, or even awareness that I’ve been under a lot of pressure lately. I swear, one of these days, I’m just gonna snap and call it quits.

A little bit about me: I’m stylish, polished, and pretty easy on the eyes, if I do say so myself. Born in Poland, but my background is Swedish—I’m European, at heart. The name is Anders, but no one actually calls me that. I’m not super high-maintenance, once you figure me out, but everyone needs a little attention from time to time. Some tending.

Especially living with Max.

I’ve known Max for a while, and he’s not a bad guy. He can be a little rough sometimes, and maybe a little careless, but it doesn’t come from a bad place. I think it’s just a lack of self-awareness. And let’s be honest, that’s a common problem among pretty-boy jocks.

The trouble with Max is that he’s not the pretty-boy I once knew. He’s changed… he’s grown. I mean, he’s literally grown. Grown by about a hundred pounds, if I had to guess, and counting. Over the course of our time together, I’ve gotten pretty familiar with his ass, and I’ll admit, it’s a great one. But, boy, he’s got a lot more ass for me to handle these days.

It’s not insurmountable, not yet at least. But I’m worried it’s getting there.

It started out simply enough, the innocent midnight snacks and occasional takeout treats. No problem, right? Twunks can afford to indulge a little, especially a hot commodity like Max. But then, you get comfortable. You settle into a routine, you let yourself go. That’s the thing about creatures of beauty: one minute you’re the hottest guy in town, trim and toned, with a golden tan and handsome face and perfect, silky hair. The sort of guy who only seems to exist in a Hollywood version of reality. But then, inevitably, something happens. Sometimes tastes change, or maybe you’re the one doing the changing.

I won’t deny, I’m not in the same shape I was when I entered Max’s life for the first time. Any long-term relationship comes with the normal wear-and-tear. Max, though, has taken it to a whole new level.

The little snacks become big snacks. The extra meals go from “occasional” to “frequent” to “everyday”. Gluttony takes over. A 32-inch waist becomes a 36-inch waist becomes a 40-inch waist; size-small shirts are discarded in the back of the closet, soon joined by ill-fitting mediums, and then by larges, stretched out of shape by a gut that won’t stop getting bigger. Max used to flit around the apartment like a bird; now he lumbers like an elephant, heavy footfalls and a slow, waddling gait. His own warning system—you can hear him coming.

On paper, I know I should be trying to help lighten the load. And it’s not like I’m totally unappreciated; there are days when he comes home from work, legs tired and arms loaded down with takeout, and I can tell he’s genuinely happy to have me. But it doesn’t last long. Once dinner’s over, I’m back to being ignored while he sits on the couch, gorging himself in front of the TV, until he comes around again to stuff his face at the next meal. Which, to be fair, is pretty often these days.

It sounds cruel, the way I talk about his escalating weight, his increasingly-indecent greed. I’m not trying to be mean. I just wish he’d consider how it might affect me. I have to live with him, and he’s starting to cramp my style. But it’s not like I can say anything. I just have to sit there in silence, while he eats and eats, grows and grows, piling on pound after excess pound. And the way he eats, moaning and licking and slurping… it’s downright pornographic.

250 starts to feel like a lowball as the months go by. He’s pushing me to my limits without even realizing it. I’ve never had to deal with a guy this fat before, a guy whose big, round bubble butt would hang over the side of even the most substantial chair. And I, personally, am not “substantial”. I’m pretty thin; it’s just how I was made. I thought Max was made that way, too.

I start trying to make my frustration known, but like I said, I can’t just come right out and say something. So I try a little subtlety; a small groan every now and then when he throws himself down at the dinner table for another round of hedonism. If he notices, he doesn’t care. He just keeps upping the ante.

And upping just about everything else: his pants size, his portion sizes, the size of his monster-truck ass and thunder thighs. They press together whenever he sits down, now, lard against blubber. Not like in the old days when his legs were lithe and lean. His moobs bulge against every tank top, his pudgy arms pack his sleeves, his love handles blossom over the top of every waistband like ripening tropical fruit.

In occasional moments of self-pity, I hazard a guess: how much does my man weigh now? 275 pounds? 300? Is he even trying to do something about it? Clearly not. He never works out anymore, unless you count working up a sweat over a third (or fourth, or fifth) slice of cheesecake. I honestly wonder if he’s doing it on purpose, just to spite me. Or test me. But I know that’s crazy—like I said, sometimes I truly doubt he even thinks about what it’s like for me.

But the problem is getting harder to ignore; he really throws his weight around these days. He heaves himself up off the couch. He rests a hand on the front of his bulging belly, barely restrained by some poor, threadbare top, back arching forward from the strain of it all (he’s not a tall guy, which makes his increasingly S-shaped silhouette even more pronounced). He trudges from the living room to the kitchen and drops himself in front of the table like an anvil. When he sits down, his ass, spilling out of some indecent pair of jean shorts, spreads out like lava blanketing some hapless Roman hamlet.

Some nights, I strain underneath him, feeling absolutely crushed by his sheer weight, boundless mass bearing down on me with the force of gravity. How big is he now? I wonder, as I listen to him moan and groan with pleasure. 325? 350? Could he really have gained over 200 pounds? How could he not realize what he’s doing to himself—what he’s doing to me?

He’s just so oblivious. I don’t even recognize him anymore. I’ve been starting to make noises about how uncomfortable I am, how much I’m struggling with his extra weight. But, as always, it falls on deaf ears. His tight little butt has become a pair of vast, ponderous globes, his abs and lats and obliques are encased in a spare tire that belongs on an 18-wheeler, his tits bulge out and dangle towards his armpits. And he just. Keeps. Going. 

Keeps eating. Keeps gaining. Keeps expanding.

Things reach a boiling point before dinner one night. I can see him piling up the table, unboxing some outrageous quantity of food for his secret nightly mukbang. Well, secret except for the consequences, which anyone with eyes could notice. “There’s a man who likes his food” would be such a trite, vapid observation that it doesn’t even need saying. He doesn’t just “like” his food, he lives for his food. Food is practically a part of Max’s identity at this point.

He’s starting to lower his colossal ass to sit, and I can tell this is it. Tonight’s the night. Fuck it, I’m done. He’s well past 350 pounds, and that’s too much weight for me to handle.

Maybe he’ll appreciate me more when I’m not around. Hejdå, Max, it was nice knowing you! At least, it used to be.

~

Max sat on the floor, rolls of fat still wobbling from the jarring motion of his fall. His chair had been complaining for a while now—squeaking and groaning every time he sat down—but he hadn’t expected it to actually break. What a load of bullshit! He wasn’t even that fat!

He looked around at the splintered wood, soreness radiating across his ass—and not in a fun, post-fucking kind of way. At least his buttocks were nicely-padded. When he was bony, a slip on the ice hurt like all hell.

He was glad he was alone, or this would have been super embarrassing. At least no one was around to see him smash that chair like a pro-wrestler in a grudge match. He knew he’d been overdoing it, but this wasn’t his fault. How could it be, surely he wasn’t that big? Just a little out of shape, in need of a few good workouts to shed some winter weight. It was just the cheap IKEA furniture he bought.

With a grunt, he started the process of heaving his monumental form to a stand. As he started to gather his momentum, he glanced at the ruined seat and frowned. He actually liked that chair. It was pretty comfortable.

At least, it used to be.

(Author’s Note: don’t forget to rotate your dining chairs!)

[blackenedsnow]

Can I rq dating hcs for the main 4 postal dudes? :3 I love your writing sm

dating the dudes; headcanons

WARNING: None

PAIRING: Postal (1) Dude x Reader, Postal (2) Dude x Reader, Postal (3) Dude x Reader, Postal (4) Dude x Reader

NOTE: Thank you for the kind words! I'm glad you're enjoying the writing! Also I was way too lazy to find gifs for all of them so take that as you will.

P1 DUDE

P1 isn't much of a talker.

Dating him means getting used to a lot of silence.

He expresses himself more through actions than words.

If he’s making the effort to spend time with you, that’s his way of saying he cares.

Beneath his stoic exterior, he has a strong protective streak.

While he might not show affection in traditional ways, you’ll notice he keeps a close eye on you, making sure you’re safe.

He’s quick to step in if anyone bothers you.

Expect a lot of quiet, reflective moments.

He enjoys sitting with you in comfortable silence, maybe after a long day, just staring off into space.

He finds peace in your presence without needing to fill the air with conversation.

He’s not the flowers-and-chocolates type, but he’ll give you practical gifts that suit your needs.

A new pair of boots? A jacket because he noticed you were cold?

Those are his version of romantic gestures.

Despite his tendencies, when it comes to you, he’s so, so, very loyal.

He won’t tolerate anyone threatening your relationship, and he’s not afraid to use drastic measures to defend what’s his.

P2 DUDE

Dating P2 means being prepared for constant sarcasm and dark humor.

He loves throwing around snarky comments, and he appreciates it if you can keep up with his banter.

If you can laugh at his fucked up jokes, he’s all in.

Don’t expect fancy dinners or traditional dates.

You’ll probably end up tagging along on bizarre errand or getting into crazy situations.

A “normal” day might include running from a mob or dealing with angry neighbors.

P2 isn’t one to show affection in public, but behind closed doors, he’s surprisingly affectionate.

He’ll pull you in for lazy cuddles after a long day, and his sarcastic remarks soften when it’s just the two of you.

He shows love by doing things for you, even if they’re unconventional.

He also loves helping you deal with “problems” — and he has creative solutions.

He’s fiercely loyal and doesn’t take kindly to anyone messing with you.

But at the same time, he’s the type to poke fun at you just to get a rise.

His teasing is his way of showing affection, so if he’s pushing your buttons, it’s a good sign.

P3 DUDE

P3, well, kind of a disaster.

His life’s a series of missteps and questionable decisions, and dating him means you’re along for the ride.

You’ll need patience to deal with his stupid dumb dumb lifestyle, but there’s something endearing about his efforts.

He wants to be a good partner but tends to stumble over the execution.

Expect a lot of strange, poorly thought-out plans, like taking you to bizarre locations for dates or making weird, last-minute gifts.

One minute he’s trying to impress you with some ridiculous stunt, and the next, he’s getting frustrated over something small.

He’ll show affection, but it might be in odd or clumsy ways.

Expect spontaneous (sometimes ill-timed) hugs or absolutely insane attempts at romantic gestures.

But there’s an earnestness to him that makes it all kind of sweet.

Deep down, he knows he’s kind of a mess, and he genuinely wants to improve for you.

He may not always succeed, but you’ll see him trying, and that counts for a lot.

P4 DUDE

P4 doesn’t take life too seriously.

Dating him is low-pressure, but you’ll need to be ready for constant, offhanded remarks.

He’s not one for planning, so dates are spontaneous and often strange.

One minute you’re grabbing a bite to eat, the next, you’re knee-deep in some ridiculous situation.

He’s the kind of guy who’s happy to take you wherever the day leads, even if it’s absurd.

While he comes off as a guy who doesn’t care about much, he actually pays attention to the little things.

He notices if you’re feeling down or if something’s bothering you, and he’ll do what he can to cheer you up.

He’s pretty relaxed most of the time, but if someone crosses a line with you, that’s when the carefree attitude disappears.

He’s quick to step in and won’t hesitate to defend you.

His protectiveness comes out strong when it’s needed.

Like the other Dudes, his version of romance isn’t exactly traditional.

He’s more likely to show his feelings by sharing a smoke or a drink with you, casually that he loves you so much during a quiet moment, rather than through any grand declarations of love.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

I Knew Your Were Trouble When You Walked In 3

Warnings: non/dubcon, medical procedures including dialysis and chronic illness, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Characters: Pete Brenner, short!reader

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

The clanging is enough to drive you crazy. You snap shut your laptop and let out a huff. A day where you can just stay home and get your work done and the landlord is doing maintenance. It has to be that day.

You check the time and rub your eyes. You look down at your pajama pants mournfully. You’re going to have to wear real clothes. You change into a pair of cords and a gray button up. You pack up your bag and shrug on a jacket as you step into your shoes.

You jingle out with your keys, locking the door behind you before quickly fleeing the echoing metalling thrums. You take the stairs down and tuck your chin down against the crisp autumn air. A tea will help with that, maybe something with a kick of caffeine to wake you up.

The cafe is only a block away. You order some ginger tea and take it to a table in the corner. You set up and hunker down to get through the last of your emails. You cup your chin as you lean your elbow on the table, entranced by the screen.

The rush of the cafe is almost soothing. The white noise helps you get through the overstuffed email sent by your supervisor. Check, check, got that done. You sip your tea as it cools and sit up to type your reply.

“You can have coffee?” The voice interrupts your frantic typing. You look up with brows furrowed. How on earth? “Genuinely curious,” Pete sits across from you, setting his paper cup down on the other end of the table, “with dialysis and everything.”

You blink at him and refocus on your laptop. You don’t want to know how he found you. Whether it’s cruel fate or something more sinister, you have more important things going on.

“You pack a real blow, you know that? I had a bruise and everything,” he complains, “not very nice and I’ll say I’ve been really nice to you.”

You continue to ignore him as you resume your response to Caroline. In hindsight, you would rather sit through the clanking of wrenches and pipes. You swallow your agitation, tuning out the silhouette just on the other side of your screen.

Suddenly, your laptop crushes your hands and your eyes pop up. Pete’s hand lingers on the cover as you snatch your fingers out from under it. You tilt your head in frustration.

“You look like a sweet girl,” he says, “but you’re not, are you?”

“Excuse me?” You hiss.

“Ah, come on, loosen up," he winks.

You shake your head and contemplate your options. You could pack up and go but you risk leading him back to your building. Telling him to go away isn't going to do too much and ignoring him only seems to encourage him.

"You like sweets? They got a great chocolate croissant."

"I'm not hungry," you insist and go back to typing. "I'm busy."

"Lonely too, by the looks of it," he leans forward, "let me buy you something, sweetheart."

Your eyes flick up and you give him a glare. You don't understand this man and he surely doesn't understand you. You're less than interested in any guy but especially not him. Your life has order and you value that. What little you can control, you hold close.

"You don't just come down to the cafe looking like you do and not want attention," he pushes on your laptop again and you stop it from closing. "I mean… how many dudes are gonna hit on a sick girl anyway? I accept you, babe, kidneys and all–"

"That's it," you snap, "get away from me. Now."

"Hey, it's a compliment–"

"Leave. Me. Alone."

"It's fine, we can move past this, I like a little fire–"

You flutter your lashes at him as your chest burns. You want to scream and cry at the same time. You look around, reminding yourself of your audience and take a deep breath.

"I'm asking you nicely…" your voice cracks, betraying you, "to go."

"I didn't do anything wrong–"

"There a problem here?" A deep growl has you shrinking further as Pete turns in his chair to look defiantly up at the man in the black apron.

"No problem. None of your business, bus boy."

The man with the black apron crosses his arms and scoffs, "big problem. I own this place so if you don't leave in the next fifteen seconds, I'll have you trespassed."

"Whatever, bro, me and the lady are having a chat–"

"He bothering you?" The man in the apron asks. You nod, breathless. "On your feet before I throw you on your ass," he growls at Pete.

"Like to see you try," Pete stands and puffs out his chest, "you're getting a one-star, bud." He crushes his cup into the man's apron, spilling the coffee down it, "coffee tastes like dirt anyway."

"Have a good day," the owner sneers, staring until Pete finally retreats, not without sending you a lecherous leer.

You watch after him and swallow, "I'm sorry–"

"You okay?" The man holds the dripping cup, foam on his name tag that reads 'Curtis'.

"Yeah, thanks," you murmur, "I didn't mean to make a scene."

"No worries, you need anything, just ask for Curt," he gives a curt bow and backs away, leaving your to wallow in a stormy rush of nerves.

[clovesnz]

actually don’t read this unless u want to lose respect for me. im in a bad place mentally and don’t know how to cope this is the whining of someone who clearly doesn’t have enough real problems

there is definitely something wrong with me because i am sitting in my bed sobbing and wishing to not exist because i let an advent calendar i really wanted sell out before i could get it and they aren’t making any more of them. i think it’s because the advent calendar was about self care kind of and it was all whimsical and id never seen anything like it. so i felt like it was gonna heal me and get me through a really tough month. i wanted it last year but didn’t get it because it sold out. this year they had it again so i assumed they made it every year. nope. turns out those were the last of them. i haven’t felt this way about not getting something i wanted since i was a child. i feel so childish but it’s actually crushed me. like i genuinely feel like nothing else in the whole world matters. i fucking hate being neurodivergent sometimes like usually i can have adhd pride but right now i fucking hate it and want to be normal and not feel this way. i spent my whole childhood feeling this way and it was awful. feeling like the whole world was ending over experiences or items i didn’t get to have especially when it was my own fault. and not understanding why it effected me so much and wanting to be better and being told i was foolish for caring so much about trivial things. i was so relieved when i grew up and learned to deal with those emotions so i don’t understand why i feel this way about this

it’s just the fact that it will never be back. since they had it two years i thought it would be back next year. so i didn’t rush to buy it as much as i should. ive been imagining that ill have it one day for a whole year. idk why but im just really not okay and im writing this here because i can’t tell anyone i’ll because i sound like an idiot for being so upset. i think i had thsi idea that it was going to fix me. like. all the good vibes from it would fix me. im trying to think of things to comfort me and its not working. this is the most privileged fucking problem to have but at the same time if I were more privileged i would have bought it when i saw it was restocked instead of hesitating due to the money. and also maybe i would be happy enough in other parts of my life for this not to crush me. idk im rationalizing my idiocy.

[bigfatbreak]

ask stolen from zoe-onesama Speaking of Émilie, do you think that she could have been a bad mother before her death, coma, or disappearance? Because, from what I've heard, Émilie had been dead, in a coma, or missing for about a year before the events of MLB, and if Adrien had been homeschooled for about most of his childhood, then that could indicate that his mother was aware of this and didn't do anything about it. Either Émilie was overprotective of Adrien and his wellbeing that she and her husband had to shelter him from the public, or that she was in a horrible situation with her husband from behind the scenes, ergo feeling powerless to do something about her son's sheltered life. There are so many things to imagine who Émilie was really like, but so far, we don't have enough substance to even care about her.

At the risk of spoiling how I'm characterizing Emelie in my AU,

I'm more leaning towards the idea that she was the first to be overprotective of Adrien. I think, initially, Gabriel didn't care as much about having a child as much as he did about pleasing his wife, that Emelie was the one who wanted Adrien more.

Because of this and because he's a sentimonster, I imagine Emelie wanted to closely monitor him and ensure he was developing as a normal child should, that nothing went wrong in his "creation." Being a mother AND a creator of a life form I imagine would spur on some really hard worries, and since we don't actually have an indication of what Gabriel was like beforehand, its more likely he didn't care what Emelie did with her new toy child, only that her wants were sated.

I think Emelie was overprotective to a worrying degree, but because she genuinely loved Adrien and since it came from a place of love, though it was unhealthy, I wouldn't instantly categorize it as abusive. She clearly gave him a lot of attention and put a lot of work into making sure he was educated, (we know this because after her death Adrien got desperate enough to start sneaking out and running away) and I think this habit only got worse as her illness settled in.

With how sick she got, I imagine she also ended up being at home more often than not, which meant... well, more time with Adrien. I don't think it occurred to her that, should she die, she should set up precautions to ensure Adrien eventually got that same love and attention after her death. I think she was more occupied with spending time with him in what time she had left, it really wasn't a thought that struck her, that maybe, just maybe, the guy who was married to her because he loved HER and was COMPLETELY AMBIVALENT ABOUT THEIR CHILD wouldn't care what happened to Adrien after his wife died.

The characterization I'm leaning on for my AU at least, is that Emelie wanted a child and Gabriel just wanted her happy. Because of this, after her passing, the realization that he never saw Adrien as human became abundantly clear. He instead saw Adrien as a product of his wife's work, which is the reason he never let him outside. I think if Gabriel had it his way, Adrien would sit on a shelf with his miraculous and his wife's Movie and their little mementos n' shit.

TDLR: I don't think Emelie was in an abusive relationship with Gabriel at all, but I don't think any of the dynamics at play were healthy. I don't think Gabriel EVER saw Adrien as his son, instead seeing him as a product of his wife - no different than if she had made a sweater or sculpted a statue. I think, initially, Emelie was overprotective of Adrien as a precaution to ensure that as a sentimonster, he 'grew up' healthy like any other child, and as her illness took her and she became more and more of a homebody, she leaned on his support and his presence as a comfort in her last days. I think if Emelie knew Gabriel had been so ambivalent about their son, she would've put a lot more work into ensuring Adrien got out eventually.

Maybe she did. Maybe, she made a will, and maybe Gabriel ignored it because he's so god damn proud.

Or maybe, she was hoping Nathalie would step in.

Then again maybe I'm totally wrong! Maybe Gabriel used to be really cool and they lived in this giant supermansion together and the guy just went ape shit after his wife died. I just think the weird leaps he's taking should be an indicator that something has always been VERY WRONG with Gabriel and maybe Emelie, too! I'm not talking abuse, I'm talking like...

ok so I've lost a lot of people in my life and I lost some important people at a very young age and that damaged me super fuckin' bad. you know what I DIDN'T daydream of? Putting their fucking corpses in like a deprivation tank and finding a way to bring them back to life.

WE DON'T KNOW IF GABRIEL KNEW THE MIRACULOUS COULD GRANT WISHES WHEN EMELIE DIED.

WE DON'T.

we know Gabe and Nathalie and Em like, went adventuring and shit! We know (or as far as I remember from the website) Nath found the peacock and butterfly miraculous, and that eventually Emelie used the peacock and that's what killed her.

We don't know... how much... Gabriel knew about the miraculous before that. Listen, if he knew that the cat and ladybug miraculous were capable of Doing That Shit (aka granting wishes if put together), wouldn't he have kickstarted his plans instantly into evil fuckery to try and find them instantly? I can't imagine a guy desperate enough to plonk his dead wife into a clear coffin would go on eBay listings trying to find them for a fuckin year.

What I'm getting at is that it seems like Gabe idolized Emelie or their relationship on some level, and that he defined himself by how he loved her. So when he LOST her, when he lost that column of his life, his real character was drawn out. Grief makes the worst of us yeah, but we have no clear indication that Gabriel KNEW there would be a method for bringing Emelie back when he hid her corpse under their mansion.

like that's some unhinged shit.

its ALSO some unhinged shit I don't think Gabriel would ever let Emelie know he was capable of while she was still alive, I think he valued her and her opinion and her happiness too much.

I just woke up so Ive gone clear past normal conversation and straight into ranting, but essentially I think Gabriel's weird shitty personality traits were sated by being married to someone he defined himself by, and that he was always capable of being an abusive fuckhat but would never show that in front of Em. I think he's never seen Adrien as more than a byproduct of Emelie and if Em knew he was going to do this insane shit, considering she was also unhinged enough to have a baby using a fukcking magic god bird brooch, she would've taken Adrien, maybe with Nathalie, and fucking DIPPED.

[elis-blawg222]

November 8 - Friday

Whew! Caught up at last!! (took me long enough)

Today was actually pretty good. I called Angel before school which made me really happy!! (I love him sm ill sob rn actually). My class wasn't toooo bad. The teacher talked sooo much ugh, but I drew the whole time so it was fine. I made my oc thinnn n pretty, love him. Also we had to go around the room and talk to people for like 30 minutes. 30. (did yk you have 30 minutes??)

It was so nerve wracking, especially because I was unprepared lol. I bet I looked like such a total weirdo with the lack of eye contact I was making, but at the time I was just trying not to break a nervous sweat LMAO.

Then, after my class I went to the library (on call w/Ange) and did an assignment. I went home afterwards because my phone was gonna die, and I needed my charger.

After a bit at home, I went to my next class, and I had a test in this one. It went good I think! We studied beforehand which I'm really grateful for.

We had a break in this class, so I went to walk around for a minute, and during this my mom texted me with:

"Eli

What did u eat today"

...

nothing. So, I said "I had some chicken nuggetss after my class hehe"

to which she responded "No fries no pop. How many nuggets"

GURL. So i was like "I did get some fries lol? and i got 10 why?"

and she just CONVENIENTLY NEVER RESPONDED. UGH.

(but wait theres more.)

After my class ended I went home and got ready for work. I was otp w/Angel (because seriously when am I not?) and he was playing minecraft. It was so peaceful and entertaining to watch and listen to him play- I loved every bit of it. Then, we talked about how we should play together (I ltrly will do anything to idc).

Work was actually ehh, not toooo bad. My dad and friend and her mom stopped by which was nice, and also my hairdresser LOL. They both tipped really well (obviously my dad did but yk).

I went home after what felt like one billion years, I was so so so happy. When I got home I just said a few things about my day like I usually do, and made sure to slip in the fact that I got a free meal at work. Which isn't wrong, I did, but I didn't get anything. I actually am just gonna let my friend get something tomorrow. but they don't have to know all that shhhhhhhh.

Then my mom stopped in front of me and was like what did you eat? and so i repeated myself bc no one listens to me <3

(I told her fried chicken tenders, fries, mac and cheese for context, a very 'me' meal tbh or at least it was)

Then, she was like "how many chicken tenders?" "no drink?" "did you finish it? all of it?" "so then you ate 2 full meals today?"

oh. my god. like. genuinely.

why. is. she. interrogating. me. pls. fucking. leave. me. alone. IM GENUINELY MORTIFIED AND HONESTLY IM SO AGGRIVATED. LET ME STARVE IN PEACE HOLY FUCK.

I tried to act like a normal person and be like ??? why are you interrogating me? BC WHY ARE YOU (as if I'm not literally starving myself)

She was just like "because I need to make sure you're getting nutrients." ok girl.

Then, I went to my room and she went to bed. I cleaned my room a bit and did a homework assignment, so I'm pretty proud of myself.

Also if you couldn't tell by now I fasted today. I was gonna either 48 hr fast or do 2 24 hr fasts back to back, but I think I'm just gonna do around 36 hrs. I wanna eat in front of my mom tomorrow so maybe she'll start leaving me alone (I seriously doubt it).

It just gets really frustrating when every meal I have she thinks isn't enough, even when I'm genuinely full. I can't eat like I used to like I physically cannot, she has to get that.

Anywho, I was thinking of making some cucumber boats tomorrow, I think it'll be fun.

Total Steps: 6.7k

Look at me meeting my step goal for once. I'm gonna start really making an effort at meeting it!

'Til tomorrow :)

(P.S. actually getting activity on these makes me so nervous but haiii)

[xxlady-lunaxx]

platonic uzusane :3 i love these two so much — btw very spoiler-y

Over the years, Tengen and Sanemi had developed some sort of relationship. A sort of brotherly relationship, maybe. Often, Tengen found himself feeling like an older brother to the Hashira, which were almost all younger than him. But this feeling became more mutual with Sanemi throughout their time as Hashira together. They confided in each other, in some ways. Really, to anyone else, it would seem like very minimal ‘confiding’. But to the Hashira, it was a great step, letting trust and attachment build between two people prone to die at any moment. They spoke little, however, depending on the atmosphere to write their emotions in the air for them. It wasn’t hard for them to find connection after they got comfortable, especially since they held a mutual hate to their fathers (though only Sanemi’s was deceased).

When Tengen retired, Sanemi found himself almost alone for a while, staring uncomfortably at the empty spot in the Ubuyashiki’s garden during one of the biannual meetings. It didn’t necessarily impact him greatly because he rarely saw the Hashira at regular intervals anyway. But the days when it was hardest on him were the days he felt like absolute shit yet had no company to keep him from the thoughts, nobody he felt would ask no questions and continue a steady conversation away from anything sensitive. He really did not know what to do.

After the war, it was endlessly easier. Of course, the toll of it all and the amount of losses was so great, often Sanemi slipped back into his drinking habits. But Tengen was always there by his side, gently prying the bottle from his shaking hands and embracing him, soothing the worst of the pain until Sanemi was passed out in his arms. This became their routine for a while, nearly a year, until the grief became an endless, yet dull bruise in the back of Sanemi’s mind, though resurfacing easily if prodded. Nevertheless, his wounds scabbed over, making life more bearable. He would help out at the Uzui household often to keep himself busy, especially when there was a child on it’s way. He found the work and chores comforting, really, reminding him of the normal life he used to have before demons stepped into it.

The years droned on with a sense of tranquility that he made sure never to take for granted, clinging on to every bit of genuine happiness he felt. Two, three, four, years passed. They had lost Giyuu, but Sanemi refused to let himself spiral in the last months he had left. Tengen made sure to give him the best he could, though keeping a careful, parental watch on him. Summer came and went. Autumn crept fast on them but disappeared quickly into November. As Winter approached, so did Sanemi’s birthday. He fell ill, as Giyuu had before his death date.

It was a dreary birthday, in any normal circumstance, with rain pouring ceaselessly and a cold chill entering the house. But it wasn’t a normal circumstance, not with a certain death awaiting him just around the corner. Yet the birthday was possibly one of the best in the last few years—save for the one where one of Tengen’s children were born the same day, giving Sanemi a birthday twin with the baby’s cheerful laughter filling the air (it seemed to never cry, really).

Sanemi’s last birthday was by far one of his favorites, despite the weather and the ache in his lungs as he struggled to breathe through mouthfuls of blood. He was practically clinging onto Tengen as Suma helped him swallow the last bites of ohagi that had been homemade by the Kamado’s. Blankets engulfed him in warmth as the Uzui’s surrounded him, the children kept out of the room by Hinatsuru. As he gasped for his last breaths, he met Tengen’s eyes, the eyes of the man who had held him through possibly everything since his time as a Hashira. He had spent most of the last few days being nurtured by Tengen, but it made him feel safe and that alone was the most wonderful feeling. He smiled, and it came easily, even when he was barely forcing himself to suck in the final blissful moments of air. He sank down into the covers, his hand still holding Tengen’s as it fell limp.

To say this hurt, would be an understatement. But Tengen held himself together, despite watching one of the last friends he’d grown so close to die, practically in his arms. He stayed together when his wives helped him get the body to its burial sight. He kept strong through the funeral. But when night fell on the marking end of the first week of Sanemi’s death, he breathed in slowly and let out the breath with a shaky sob, bringing the stump of his severed arm up to meet the hand of his intact one, covering his face and shaking in his futon, unable to hold on any longer.

He had always been the stronger child, it seemed. Keeping everyone sane. With the Hashira, with his teasing banter that, despite other claims, made them feel almost regular, worrying about hearing another of his stupid jokes instead of the amount deaths they had seen in the last week. At home, training to be a Shinobi and lasting longest (save for his final living brother), pulling himself back together as quickly as he could and save face in front of his wives. He had been there for every Hashira’s death, from Kanae’s to Sanemi’s. He had been there. He had stayed true to his word to being loyal to the Corps, even when he had retired, continuing to do his best to help the Ubuyashiki’s.

But now? He felt meek, alone, and utterly helpless. In the dead of night, he heard shifting and the change of breath in Hinatsuru, meaning only that she had awoken. He wasn’t quick enough to stop his crying, still gasping for air when she slipped into his futon next to him, embracing Tengen in her gentle arms.

She spoke quietly, knowing that asking if he was alright would do nothing. She pressed her lips gently to his forehead, whispering small words of comfort and love. He barely registered the actual words, simply leaning into her motherly care. She cradled him in her arms, holding him as if he was a child, allowing himself to break down for the first time in his life. He let the grief and sorrow overtake him, burrowing in her hug as he drifted slowly off to sleep.

[sayakxmi]

Finishing chapter 6 in Reverse1999:

Thoughts under the cut. Including spoilers, obviously.

Boy do I have thoughts. Most of them already shared with Yudja, as usual, but I felt the need to post them, too, lmao.

These bitches weren't lying, when they were saying that the writing of this chapter [6] elevated R1999 to one of the best written gacha games, because, man. Don't get me wrong, R1999's writing is fantastic in general, but the last chapter especially had me go through such a rollercoaster of emotions and opinions that I found myself changing my pfp to Kakania on discord out of respect. It sounds funny, but after going on and on as to why I liked her, I thought, you know what? Time for a change. I don't think I've ever changed my Sayaka pfp there, lmao.

Anyway. Silly thing first is that I was super proud of myself, bc in the 5th chapter when that plane appeared, I guessed that it was around 1914. And kept guessing until I had it confirmed in the 6th chapter. Listen, if it was stated earlier, I overlooked it, and I just went on my history knowledge & I'm very happy with myself.

Which also kinda made me go "uh oh" when I checked the date under some of the parts early on, and saw 1/7... and then I realized it was the USAmerican date format, so it's just January. Lmao.

Anyway, the chapter was a ride, and the sheer amount of dread it had caused me was something else. You just things were about to go horribly wrong, but I had no idea how and what exactly would happen.

Also, funny thing is that aside from the fact that it was supposedly super well written (turned out to be a fact), I also got spoiled on two things, Hofmann's death (I just knew she was going to die, not how), and that yuri was doomed.

Man, was that yuri doomed.

Honestly, I'm super glad I got spoiled on this factTM, bc I ended up with assumptions, which ended up being compltely wrong in the best way.

Ngl, maybe it was some internalized ableism from me, but I kind of expected Isolde to be the "victim" in the doomed yuri, as in, Kakania doing something that would cause Isolde to turn away from her. But I was wrong in the best possible way, because I think it managed to write a tragedy for the both of them that wasn't some form of character assasination.

I think the writers took a bit of a risk with Isolde that ended up paying off. I mean, they wrote a mentally ill character who causes lots of deaths, but managed to do it in a way that didn't demonize her, but also didn't excuse her actions. Imagine stricking that kind of balance these days... And aside from that, you can even understand what led her to that kind of state of mind. I mean, aside from curses and expectations and being deemed hystric, she was a medium for ghosts, which included ghosts from the future. I'm fairly certain she references both world wars when she explains things to Kakania, and all in all, it's difficult not to sympathize with her. And it's easy to see why Manus sought her - she was suffering, especially from her mental illness, and aside from Kakania, nobody really treated her with respect and gentleness she deserved (no wonder she fell for her), so she made an easy prey for them.

But, you know, she still got a bunch of people killed.

It's as good time as any to talk about my favorite character of this chapter, Kakania - it took me by surprise. The media made me really distrustful of fictional doctros & psychologists, huh. But anyway.

What I loved about Kakania is that she wasn't fine with any of this. Even if Isolde said she'd done it for her, to realize her dream, it was so refreshing to see a character be genuinely horrified by another character's actions, regardless of the intentions or mental health.

It's such a popular trope, accepting somebody who'd done awful things because of love, and I do like it (when it's well written), but it was so incredibly refreshing to see R1999 not go for it. Reverse1999 really said that it was still awful, and there was no justification for that.

By God it was all so painful - it was painful for Isolde, because she just wanted to make Kakania happy, and it was painful for Kakania, because she was essentially betrayed by her dearest friend, and indirectly caused so much pain and destruction. You'd truly want nothing but for these two to make up somehow, for Kakania to hold Isolde close and tell her everything's gonna be alright - but Kakania doesn't do that. And you know what? I fucking respect her for it. She values human life too much to budge out of love. Even if it hurts. Isolde has simply caused too much pain and destruction to swipe it under a rug.

And, god, the last part, the hypnotism. As if I wasn't in enough pain already. It hurt to see Kakania, who hates hypnotism with burning passion, use it on somebody she cares so deeply, and it hurt to see Isolde in the end just accept that. Even if it gave the Foundation a fighting chance against the Storm, it was still hard to watch. It still meant Kakania crossing the kind of boundary she'd never wanted to cross, and for yet another person to take Isolde's agency away from her. But in the span of this entire chapter things changed, they changed. And Kakania was willing to do anything to help, after indirectly causing that hell.

I think in a way that ending... honestly this entire chapter speaks volumes about the dangers of "idealism" and "meaning well". There's a reason why the saying "the road to hell is paved with good intentions" exists. Idealism alone can lead to a catastrophy, and at the same time, sometimes something that goes against your principles might be more helpful in the long run.

As Madam Hofmann had said.

Honestly, moving to another character - Madam Hofmann. Not gonna lie, if I didn't spoil myself that she's gonna die, there's a chance I would've grown more attached to her... but watching Marcus beg her not to die was still heartbreaking. In general, her death was painful to watch. For most of the chapter she was so composed, but in the end she was stil just a person, and being in so much pain naturally broke her. Seeing her fight with her thoughts, clinging to her more rational side was painful.

I also loved her relationship with Marcus, especially since at first I was a bit unsure, given her rather cold demeanor, but, again, that one was on me and my assumptions. Hofmann was a great mentor. [*] A few quotes that I especially liked:

I think I like this one especially, because it manages to explain the problem, reassure Marcus, and at the same time doesn't bagatelize the issue. Like, that's how people your age are, but that's still not great and you need to get your shit together eventually.

A different quote, from Kakania's monologue this time:

But anyway, last but certainly not least, Marcus. I'm gonna be honest, I don't care about her all that much, but that is to no fault of her or her writing. Sometimes you just don't vibe with a character the right way. That being said, watching her growth throughout the entire chapter was a fantastic experience, and by the end I felt proud of how far she'd come. You did it, Marcus, you saved that mission. Madam Hofmann is definitely proud of you, too.

What a banger of a chapter.

[trancylovecraft]

Listen ik I'm pretty one sided in these requests, but you are of one of the FEW ppl writting for Arthur and honestly ? You are the best out of them imo.

So might I request headcanons for a platonic yandere Illuminati!Arthur who remembers Section 13 and thus joined Lucifer to take his revenge with a darling from True Cross ?

(If you really, really want : Maybe HCs for that brainrot scenario we had a while back on ao3 comments where Illuminati!Arthur goes up against the exwires + reader when they rescue Izumo and decides to keep them 🥺👉👈)

(AOEX) YANDERE! DEMON/ILLUMINATI! ARTHUR A. ANGEL x OKUMURA! READER + EXWIRES: Headcannons

RECEIPT ✂- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

BARISTA'S NOTE:dawwww :D Im genuinely SO happy that you requested this like OMGGEDGJD the ideas from that thread are so so good and im excited i finally get to put them on paper.(dw about requesting him, i love him too) i hope you dont mind but the concept matched up EXTREMELY WELL with the yanplatonic shiro concept and i kind of mixed it in here, THANK U!!! FANDOM: Blue Exorcist PREQUEL (Yanplatonic Shiro x Reader + Rin, Yukio)

Thank you for ordering!

Come again soon!

BEFORE HIS BETRAYAL

Arthur in canon is a very loyal man. He despises demons from the very bottom of his heart so it would take a lot for him to defect to the other side.

Following on from the Yanplatonic Shiro Concept, This takes place before Satan possessed and eventually killed him. Shiro is still overly protective of you, Rin and Yukio. He's still the paladin and he keeps a very close eye on all of you.

You, Still being the little princess of the family, The youngest with your demonic heart still sealed within the hilt of two twin daggers. Shiro babies and protects you the most which is why this is a difficult conversation..

You found out about demons on accident, When one of Shiro's familiars (That were killed straight afterwards) accidentally bit you, Giving you a temptaint.

Shiro doesn't know what to do as you confront him about the existence of these creatures. He tries to tell you that this is apart of your illness, That you're hallucinating these creatures but you don't buy it any longer.

You're this close to finding out about his manipulation towards you and your siblings, So Shiro has to act fast and give it up. He tells you that demons do exist and that your illness must've been caused by one of them.

You, Being the young impressionable child that you are, Buy it immediately. Instantly you get excited about it, Asking so many questions. Where do they come from? Does he fight them? Can I fight them?!

Shiro doesn't tell you who your real father is, He doesn't want to go there yet.

Now that you know, That makes you and Yukio the two that know, Excluding Rin. You're excited since you have something new to talk about with your older brother. While Yukio is a little shocked that you've found out, He is happy that he can talk to someone else about it

Though your last question is not one that you let go of quickly. Shiro is displeased day and night after you keep coming to him, Begging him to fight demons.

Shiro keeps denying but he knows he cannot keep it up for long, Him spoiling you has gave you a bit of a demanding streak. You won't give up, And as much as Shiro hates it, He knows that you won't either. If he keeps denying, He knows you'll find a much more dangerous way to fight demons.. Without him.

So he has to give in.

But with him as the paladin and already training Yukio, It gives him very little time to train you. While Shiro is content with this, You certainly are not and ask for more time to train. And hey! Shiro just can't resist when you smile like that, Like Yuri did.

So Shiro needs to find someone that can and it's not an easy job. He has to find someone that can protect you, Can cater to your needs and most important of all: Keep him informed of your whereabouts.

Which is where Arthur comes in.

Arthur, He is proper. Arthur can kill demons effectively. Arthur is a good protector. Arthur is loyal, Like a dog. Arthur obeys the paladin, Aka Shiro. Which in other words, Makes him a perfect fit for the job.

Arthur, When approached with the job, Is hesitant at first. Him at the time being an Arc Knight being approached by the paladin, Requesting Arthur to take his daughter under his wing.

Did Shiro even have a daughter? Arthur isn't sure but he won't question it, If it's an order from The Paladin (Who can do no wrong in his eyes) then Arthur will take it with pride!

And now he has an apprentice, Namely you.

Arthur at first would definetly be a little bit cold to you. Though I suppose the right word would be awkward, Mostly due to the fact that your hyperactive and naïve personality would be rather hard to get use to with Arthur's knight complex.

Though, After a few missions, Your relationship does start to change.

You really want to become an exorcist, Just like Yukio and your dad! So you make sure to put in as much effort as possible when doing your tasks, Always listening with your full attention when Arthur teaches you something.

Arthur appreciates it greatly, It's good to know that you have some discipline in you. So much so that he starts warming up to you, Even trying to make a few jokes here and there.

It sucks that you're just as oblivious as he is when it comes to humour. At least that's something you have in common.

As his apprentice your job mostly consists of following him around to take notes, If it's a lower ranked demon then maybe you'll be able to exorcise it! Arthur thinks your too young to take on middle-class or especially high-class demons. But a small Greenman or two should be fine.

Arthur reports to Shiro every hour on the hour, Always detailing what you're doing and where you are. Arthur is a little suspicious as to why Shiro is so worried but he chalks it up to just a worried parent.

Arthur grows to like you a lot. Despite your few flaws (eg. Your slightly spoiled personality), Arthur goes blind to it and believes that you are just the sweetest thing, Taking pride that it is you who is his apprentice.

Especially when you gush about him to your brother, Yukio. Arthur may or may not have overheard you telling him about his skill and how happy you are to have him as your master.

It makes him feel an insane amount of pride, Always returning the favour when introducing you to other exorcists as his "Talented Apprentice."

Yukio is happy for you, While he doesn't particularly click with Arthur, He's happy your happy while Rin still has absolutely no clue about where you have been running off to you.

So far, Everything is normal, Great even. Your master is one of the most powerful people in the order, Your father though controlling still cares and loves you.

But, That all changes the day that Satan possesses Shiro. The day that you find out exactly who you are and where you come from. You feel helpless as you scream, Being dragged into the Gehenna gate while the demon possessing Shiro cackles the entire time.

You feel helpless even after it's all over, After Rin unsheathes Kurikara and you have no choice but to pick up The Twin Daggers, Destroying the Gehenna Gate at the cost of your humanity.

You sob, Falling to the ground over Shiro's charred corpse and crying with Rin by your side. You hug each other tight, Rin terrified and you too.

Rin is horrified when he finds out that Satan is his father, The only thing he can do is hug you, Hoping to both comfort and find solace in you.

Yukio comes back home to find his father dead and his two siblings weeping, Huddled together and terrified. Yukio can't do anything but join you, Crying for the loss of your father as the sun finally rises upon all of you.

Its only you three now, Only you three against the world.

BECOMING DEMON ARTHUR

Arthur comes upon the scene only a bit later after Yukio does, Wanting to check in since you hadn't text him a "Good morning" like you usually do. The start of his tendencies marking here.

But when he finds what happened, Sees you, Rin and Yukio crying next to the corpse of the Paladin, He instantly switches into overprotective mode. Not just for you, But for your brothers too.

He rushes over, Instantly coddling the three of you and demanding to know what happened. Rin explains what happened through his tears, Explaining what happened and that they're the spawn of Satan.

Arthur is shocked, Horrified as he realises that his apprentice was the child of the demon that killed his parents all those years ago. Fifteen to be exact.

Fifteen, The exact same age that you three were. Arthur feels disgusted, You were conceived on the blue night, Most likely in the bowels of Section Thirteen.

Section Thirteen.

Wait, What was Section Thirteen again?

Arthur doesn't know what it was or why it came to his mind, What was it? For some reason something inside him started to resonate, Like it was something more than they were letting on.

But he had no time to fret over it. It doesn't matter if you were the children of Satan, You were sweet, You were enough to prove that you weren't your father, The one who killed his parents.

He would take care of you three, He'd make sure nothing would get to you.

But that night after contacting the Vatican of what happened (Excluding your heritage), After Rin contacted Mephisto and set the main story into motion is when it happens.

A nightmare, A horrid nightmare. Flashes of things he doesn't remember. Clinical white walls. Flames the colour of sapphires, Flames, They were everywhere. A blinding light, One he almost walked into.

Arthur woke up in a cold sweat that night, Heart thundering in his chest as he tried to register what that bizzare dream could possibly mean. He wasn't able to get to sleep that night, Nor was he able to let it go so easily.. It felt so real, Almost as if he was there.

These nightmares continue each night, Over and over again showing flashes of new places and people that he doesn't recognise. It tortures him, Makes him go near insane.

The next morning after checking on you and your brothers well-being, Arthur heads off to find out what that dream could've meant. But he doesn't go to the Uzai's or even the library under the academy.

No, Arthur heads to the deep keep.

Arthur has gained access due to his status as an Arc Knight, Though that access must be curated with piles of paperwork and permission from the Grigori.

But Arthur doesn't care, Not like his usual righteous self. These nightmares are more than they appear, They nag him.

And what he finds in there is horrifying.

Experiments, Horrible inhumane experiments. Children used in the name of furthering Demon Kings, All killed and tortured. People cloned and killed.

And it was all done by the organisation he was set to lead.

Arthur throws up at the pictures, Gags at the descriptions of what happened. And worst of it all, The worst thing that he had found was that his parents, The reason why he had become an exorcist didn't even exist in the first place.

No. Arthur was a clone, A clone of none other than The King of Light, Lucifer himself.

Arthur breaks down, Not able to handle it.

He's a demon, He's what he had swore to eradicate. Arthur feels so much in a single moment. Disgust, At himself at the vatican at everyone who had kept this from him.

The Uzai's especially, The one's who were the famed family of the order and the ones who had taken him in. They had lied to him, They had used him. They were monsters.

Demons. How could someone so righteous like him come from them? This is where his delusions start to kick in. If he, So righteous and good came from the demons then..

Maybe he had been looking at this wrong way the entire time.

You stay up late one night, Resting in the old boys dorm that you had moved into with your brothers. Rin is asleep while Yukio is up late doing exorcist reports and studying for the coming school year.

You're wandering through the dormitory, Heading towards the kitchen for a late-night snack when you first hear the banging on the door.

Who could be up at this hour? Banging at an old dormitory's doors? Despite the odd feeling in your stomach, You make your way over and open it up.

You're surprised to find Arthur there, Supporting himself against the doorframe once you open it. You should be excited to see him, But you're really concerned to see the state of him.

He's dishevelled, His hair is a mess and his skin is damp with sweat. His pristine white uniform was barely done up, A stark contrast to his usual self as he use to pride himself on his appearance.

You're worried for him, But have no time to ask if he's okay as he instantly starts to ramble. It's almost obsessive, The way his expression looks paranoid and neurotic.

But his words concern you more. Arthur demands that you get your brothers, Get your stuff and get out of this place. It's not safe for any of you! Not with what the order did to those other kids, All those clones. He needs to get you all out of here, All for your safety.

You're terrified as he grabs onto your wrist, Pulling you forward towards him. You scream for Yukio, Who instantly rushes down the stairs at your call with Rin following afterwards, Woken up by the noise.

Rin instantly rushes to help you, Yelling at Yukio to call someone from the Vatican. Arthur, Being the Arc Knight that he is, Makes it very difficult to fight him. Rin instantly being disarmed from Kurikara.

Yukio is horrified as he pulls out his gun in one hand, Phone in the other as he desperately explains to Shura what is happening. Arthur wasn't in his right mind, Yukio telling Shura to bring backup. Arthur needed to be restrained, Obviously going through something.

Arthur is inconsolable as he tries to tell you all what happened, But it only comes out as undecipherable ramblings. Why aren't you all listening to him?! This place is evil! You need to come with him right away, It's not safe for any of you! He'll protect you!

But once he hears the conversation between Yukio and Shura, Arthur instantly starts to panic. The order cannot come here! They can't know about him being aware of Section Thirteen! Who knows what they'll do to him, What they'll do to you?!

Once Rin goes in to try attack Arthur, To try and save you from his grip is when suddenly all the lights turn on in the dorm. They're blinding, Most certainly going over their limits.

They explode, Glass shattering and falling down to the floor. You all cover your heads, A blinding flash in the room.

Once it fades, You find that Arthur has vanished. Gone into thin air.

DEMON ARTHUR

Now before we can make headcannons of what happens with Demon! Arthur. I find it suiting that we establish him first.

Arthur would've awakened some hidden power that night, Gaining some passed on power from Lucifer and the stress from finding out about Section Thirteen most likely activating it as a defence mechanism.

Also along with his demonic side..

I imagine Demon! Arthur to be draconic in appearance. Mostly due to the original tale of King Arthur. Uther Pendragon was King Arthur's father, Dragon literally being in the name with it meaning "highest commander; head leader; top of the command chain" which will mean something later.

Plus I like the symbolism of a knight becoming a dragon, Sue me.

I like to think that Arthur would start to change overtime. He'd grow greyish-yellow scales in certain places (eg. Around his eyes, Shoulders, Knees and Hands) and if we're feeling risky, Some horns to match.

I'd also assume that Arthur would gain pointy ears, Claws and maybe even a tail like a normal demon would, Something perhaps similar to Amaimon's reptilian tail.

Personality-wise? Yeah, He'd change too.

Demon! Arthur would definetly gain a sadistic streak, Not as if it wasn't there when he was fighting demons, But I'd say it would definetly become more prominent and focused towards Humanity.

He'd definetly become more strict and serious too, Demonic instincts kicking in and becoming much less tolerant of disrespect. I'd even consider that he'd gain a temper, A sort of disciplinary one.

His saint complex has definetly become much more egotistical, Taking much more pride in the fact that he's a demon now and a powerful one at that.

He'd become the highest ranking demon of light, Just below Lucifer, Of course. Gaining the abilities such as Light Manipulation, Creating illusions with the light and other stuff like that.

And we're not gonna forget about Caliburn here, His precious sword would definetly be much more powerful now. I'd even suspect that the hair he'd need to exchange with Caliburn would no longer become usual since Arthur is higher in rank, Caliburn needing to obey Arthur.

So yeah.

hes fUCKING TERRIFYING.

SHIMANE ILLUMINATI ARC

Months later, After the festival fiasco and the declaration of war made on the True cross. You're now on a mission to get your friend, Your classmate Izumo back. Who had been kidnapped by the Illuminati.

Not to mention Shima, Who had been revealed to be a spy for the Illuminati the entire time. You feel betrayed, Confused and horrified as to why he would do this.

Before then, You've made a good life for yourself. You've made friends.

Bon, Shima and Konekomaru basically became your brothers outside of your actual brothers. They were your best friends and despite the rivalry Bon had with Rin at the start, You had befriended them quick and your relationship with them developed even quicker.

Shiemi was the person you spent the most time around, Often joining her and Yukio for Tea. You also do your homework together, Always learning something new from her everyday!

Izumo and Paku are the girls you sit with everyday at lunch. Even though Izumo often shoves you off, You know that you've grown on her, If only a little bit.

You love your friends, All of them, Which is why when Izumo got kidnapped you and the rest of the Exwires went off to get them back. Both Izumo and Shima, You'll bring them back whether they like it or not.

So you and the rest of the Exwires head off to the Illuminati base. You break in, Get separated and fight your way out of the rooms and do the entire charade of fighting for Izumo.

The doctor, Gedōin. He does his whole charade as well. After loosing Izumo's mother and Izumo as a whole, He puts on the mask and becomes the squid demon that possesses him.

You all defeat him, It's a massive fight. The only difference between here and the manga is the Kyoto Squad not showing up, Leaving the rest of you to fight

It's an exhausting fight, But you all finally manage to get him down. Once you do you're all tired and numb, Out of ammo and done-for Ability-wise. You're glad it's over.

But then, Through the rubble and the dust, Is when you hear footsteps.

They're loud as thunder, Making everyone jerk up towards where they're coming from. Despite they're aching muscles, Everyone dusts themselves off and ready themselves for another fight, You included.

Bon aims his rocket launcher at the destroyed opening where the footsteps were coming from. Konekomaru readies a sutra, Izumo readies Uke and Mike, Shiemi prepares Nee while You, Yukio and Rin begin to bare your weapons.

A voice calls out, One that's familiar and makes you freeze up at the recognition. Your brothers recognise too. The grip Rin has on Kurikara starts to shake while Yukio's eyes go wide, Aiming his gun higher.

Arthur still hasn't revealed himself, But the footsteps grow closer as he starts to degrade the people who dared to step foot in this place. Sadistic as he vows to destroy whatever threat may be opposing him, You can already hear Caliburn being unsheathed.

Arthur steps out from the dust in all of his glory. Standing tall and demonic in all his glory. Caliburn stands tall by his side as he marches out, Ready to strike down the intruders with a single slash of his sword.

You're horrified. You had known of your master's disappearance but you had never expected this! You can barely hold up your daggers to him anymore, Staring at him with a mixture of disgust and betrayal.

Rin is disgusted too. He's exhausted but he holds his sword up to Arthur anyways. This was the man who had taken care of them for a while after Shiro had died, Now betraying them in favour of the Illuminati.. Rin can't believe it.

Yukio too, He's debating whether he should pull the trigger right here right now. How could Arthur do this? Why would he do this?! This may also stem from the conversation he had with Lucifer earlier.. The one where he was invited to join him.

The rest of the Exwires were aware of the Arc Knight's disappearance. Bon and Konekomaru angry that such a righteous man would go over to the otherside, Shiemi terrified and exhausted, Izumo angry while Shima watches from the side-lines.

Arthur, In the time that he had disappeared, Had been taken in and cared for by the Illuminati. With his powers awakened, Arthur had rose in the ranks to the title of "General" within the Illuminati's arsenal.

He's become much more powerful, So much more than all of you combined. And every single one of you can feel it, His power rolling off of him. You're all terrified, But you raise your weapons anyways.

But it's when Arthur finally marches out and stands atop the pile of rubble does he stop his speech, Stare down at the group ready to fight in front of him and stop.

These are kids.

These are kids and the Order had sent them out here, Out here into a dangerous facility to fight alone.

And worst of all? You are there, Standing in the middle of them.

Arthur is horrified, He can only just stand there staring for a straight minute while he processes what was happening. The order had sent kids here, Used child soldiers.

They were using kids, Just like they did in Section Thirteen.

Instantly his demeanour switches up. The sadistic, Serious monster that was going to kill them instantly mellows down. His expression softening almost with pity as he looks at you all, Concerned even.

You might of forgotten him, If only for a little while. But Arthur certainly remembers you.

He's missed you this entire time, His apprentice, The one who couldn't do no wrong and the one that didn't deserve what The Order would do to you. Arthur regrets not being able to take you and your brothers with him that night.

But now he has a chance to change that. Arthur instantly gawks at the sight of all the Exwires below him. Getting angry as to why they were sent out here alone, Who authorised it and why there were no adults around.

You get angry at him, Demanding to know why Arthur defected and Arthur just responds with saying how The Order is corrupt and evil.

The rest of the Exwires hold no time back as they start to fight him. Bon and Yukio starting to fire their weapons while Izumo and Shiemi send out their familiars. You and Rin rush into the frontlines, Baring your weapons as you begin to attack.

Despite his transformation, Arthur is still Arthur at his core and retains most of his personality. Most importantly his delusional yandere traits.

As soon as you all attack him it just makes it worse. These kids have been traumatised! They've been used by the order as weapons and are acting out of fear! How horrible this is, Arthur needs to save them.

Arthur believes you and the Exwires just need to be shown some love, His tendencies spreading to not just you but to the rest of your friends as well. Arthur won't take any other explanation. You're all so scared, He needs to save you all.

I'd also headcannon his traits also mixing in with his demonic instincts too. He's grown lonely, And him being a clone of a demon king has subconsciously made him search for kin of his own to rule and protect.

And Arthur wants to protect you all, He wants to keep you safe. So you and the rest of the Exwires are a perfect fit.

So when Arthur manages to lock Rin in a chokehold, Sheathe Kurikara and hold him hostage. You all back away, Terrified of what Arthur might do to him.

Arthur doesn't say a word as his hands move to specific pressure points on his body. Behind the ears, Atop his head. Mostly giving affection in the form scratches and pets.

Though Rin struggles, He starts to feel himself melt. Arthur's learned in his time as a demon that other demon's have certain weak points, Places where they could lower their defences. It didn't help that Rin was exhausted from the fight before, Giving in to the affection.

You all watch horrified as Rin starts to melt in Arthurs hold. Arthur takes no time in telling you all that'd you'd be much safer/protected with him, That he only wants to help and you shouldn't be afraid of him.

Rin, Mumbles in agreement. Rin is tired, He's been through a lot both with the previous arcs and the death of Shiro. It's been tough, And for some reason this feels nice, Feels like he's being loved. Maybe this isn't so bad, I mean he use to be our friend! He can't be that bad..

You and the rest of the Exwires are horrified as Rin falls for Arthur's words. But you can't do anything as if they attack Arthur then they have a chance of hurting Rin.

Arthur has gained the yandere trait of manipulative once he becomes a demon. Easily playing to Rin's demonic instincts as he taunts the rest of the Exwires with how good of a guardian he could be! He knows what he's doing as Rin finally passes out, Still held tight within Arthurs arms.

He'd target you specifically, Asking if you still care for him as your master. If you still look up to him and trust him with your life. You can't answer him, Conflicted as he's still the man you admire, The man who taught you everything you knew.

He asks Yukio if he still trusts the order, If he still listens to his superiors without question. Yukio who is still conflicted from earlier events cannot answer.

The rest of the Exwires are faced with questions of their own. If Izumo still has anyone to go back to, If Bon and Konekomaru still have good home lives, If Shiemi is so willing to be taken advantage of by the order.

Arthur finally gives you all an ultimatum. You and the other Exwires come with him and Rin doesn't get harmed. If you don't, Rin will be taken away alone, At the mercy of whatever demon might get to him.

You and the others have no choice, Rin would have an easier time escaping if all of you were there and not just him. You're all exhausted, Unable to fight and for some reason you feel like Arthur wouldn't take a no even if that was your final answer.

So you go with him, Arthur activating some knock-out gas in the laboratory systems. You all fall unconscious and Arthur takes no time in collecting your bodies, Dragging you all off somewhere else.

Somewhere you all won't be escaping for a long time now.