#little me is baffled! shocked! and appalled!

[fluffypotatey]

strange how broad my concept of youth and adults are

[avocado-writing]

Could I request headcanons for Astarion, Gale, Wyll, Halsin, Dammon, Rolan, and Zevlor react to his gn crush who is so oblivious that they told him with confidence that no one would be interested in them romantically?

yes of course lovely, it’s always a pleasure writing your prompt lists 😊💕

Astarion

definitely thinks you’re joking at first.

laughs, then sees the defeated lag of your shoulders, the way you can’t tear your gaze from the ground.

wants to do his usual blasé retort, but is torn because well. he really cares for you.

I think, after a moment of silence, he reaches out and takes your hand. threads his fingers through yours.

“darling… there is so much of you to love, it’s mesmerising.”

he can’t look at you while he admits this of course, but he feels the way you squeeze his hand in yours and his dead heart skips a beat. 💕

Gale

utterly baffled.

of course someone would love you romantically?

from a practical point of view he just starts listing things off: you’re kind, a good leader, big-hearted, have a strong moral compass…

and then he just lapses into the things he likes about you.

that you’re so lovely. so good-looking. that your hair is nice and your eyes are spellbinding.

only realises he’s gone off on a tangent when he sees you grinning at him, then gets a little embarrassed…

gives you the confidence to press a kiss to his cheek though, and after that he’s beaming for the whole day 🥰

Wyll

shocked. shocked and appalled that you think that way about yourself.

takes you out for a stroll, just the two of you, and ends up waxing lyrical about all the things you have going for you.

he tries not to turn it into a confession but my man is a romantic, and soon he ends up spilling everything.

the way every time you smile at him his heart speeds up and his cheeks get hot. how you deserve someone who’ll be by your side through everything, and he’s not afraid to be that someone despite everything you’ve faced on the road.

he’d keep going if you didn’t muster up your courage and pull him into a long kiss 💕

Halsin

is old enough to understand self-doubt doesn’t just go away in one day. he’s admired you for a while so he tries to start actively courting you.

little gifts appear for you. carvings of your favourite animals, flowers you’ve mentioned liking the perfume of.

he finds a reason to be by your side every day. always tries to make you smile and laugh.

and eventually you realise… oh, what you believed before? about nobody ever feeling romantic love towards you? that was totally wrong. because there is your Druid and you’ve just realised his heart is totally devoted to you.

when you have this moment you immediately run to find him and throw yourself into his arms rom-com style lmfao ❤️

Dammon

“that’s… that’s not true! there would be plenty of people who’d love you.”

you look up into his eyes. they’re soft and sweet, and there’s a desperation behind them as the words come tumbling out of his mouth, too late to stop them.

“I’d love you. I do love you.”

a moment passes. he’s worried he’s messed up.

then you stride across the room to bring him into a kiss and his face gets hot enough to rival his forge… 🔥

Rolan

”don’t be so foolish.”

you’re utterly gobsmacked, because you were being so vulnerable, admitting your worry. “excuse me?!”

he tries to backtrack and make it look like he didn’t just insult you, lol

”there’s nothing wrong with you. you’re… wonderful. anyone would be lucky to have you.”

cheeks a bright crimson, and he’s so bad at hiding his emotions that you clock what this is instantly. it’s a confession.

“oh…” “don’t worry, forget it, I didn’t say anything—!” “rolan, would you like to get a drink tonight?”

he might combust. but he squeaks out a “yes.” because honestly? he was worried about the exact same thing you came to him to confide…

Zevlor

is firm in how silly you’re being, but kind.

holds your face in your hands to get you to look at him.

swears how lovely you are, his words like a pledge. like a prayer.

and when this paladin tells you all this? how could you believe him to be wrong.

maybe someone would love you romantically. gazing into his warm eyes, maybe someone does.

[wisteria-lodge]

If you're comfortable answering, how do you think JKR intended Draco to come across, and how did he actually come across in your mind?

I think Draco was intended to come off as a weak and kind of pathetic bully. The Dudley Dursley of the Wizarding World. 

That’s how we’re introduced to him: “Harry was strongly reminded of Dudley.” Almost he first thing we hear Draco say is the very Dudley-ish -  “I'm going to drag [my parents] off to look at racing brooms... I think I'll bully Father into getting me one and I'll smuggle it in somehow." Later books re-contextualize this as a brag - he is not actually able to bully his father into buying him presents, and instead of Dudley's tantrums Draco likes to embellish things in order to seem more impressive and get the result he wants. But initially, I think Draco = Dudley. They both dislike people who are different, dislike Harry for being more special (and because they’ve been given tacit permission to bully him...)They’re spoiled by their parents. They’re even both platinum blonde. 

JKR loves the idea of an antagonist who realizes that they were wrong and *you were right* a little too late, and then has no choice but to punish themselves. (Basically the entire deal with Snape.) So - Draco and Dudley get some of that treatment too. After Dudley meets the dementor he breaks down, has a moment where he leaves Harry a cup of tea, and another where he says “I don’t think you’re a waste of space.” BUT Dudley’s initial breakdown is framed as pathetic (even a touch comedic.)The tea he leaves outside Harry’s door has gone cold, and when Harry steps in it he initially thinks it’s a dumb prank. Dudley says “I don’t think you’re a waste of space” only in response to a comment Harry makes. Hestia Jones is super unimpressed, and thinks Dudley should be doing more. 

Like, JKR is aware that it’s not *completely* Dudley‘s fault he’s like that. Dumbledore comments on the “appalling damage [Vernon and Petunia] have inflicted on the unfortunate boy sitting between you.” But the damage is still done, and Dudley is meant to be seen as a figure of pity. All this is supposed to read as ‘too little, too late.’ If Dudley were less of a coward, a stronger person, a better person, he would’ve brought Harry the tea directly. 

Now let’s look at Draco, who is given some *very* similar beats. We see him crying in the bathroom, comforted by Myrtle (a comedic character) very similarly to how Dudley basically goes into shock after the dementor. Draco and Dudley are both framed as weak, but able to see the error of their ways, and their breakdowns set up an important plot/character moment for Harry.

Draco’s little “I can’t— I can’t be sure,” when he’s asked to identify Harry at Malfoy Manor is another beat of ‘too little, too late.’ Harry takes Draco’s wand a few minutes later (absolutely castration imagery - just look at how the text treats Lucius losing his wand) and then Dobby shows up to low-key shame Draco by doing the job that he [narratively] was supposed to have done: rescuing Harry and friends, probably dying in the process. I do think that’s how we’re supposed to read that scene. And then Harry gets these very similar selfless beats of saving Dudley (from dementors) and saving Draco (from fiendfyre.) That’s why JKR is so baffled when people like Draco, think he’s attractive, or ship him with Hermione. It’d be like shipping her with Dudley, it doesn’t make sense.

But a couple things went “wrong” when Draco was released into the world. For one thing, I think a lot of people saw his more indirect underhanded approach (he likes rumors, smear campaigns, blackmail, poison, sneaky back entrances, tricking/provoking Harry into breaking rules) as evidence that he's clever, and not that he’s a cowardly, spineless little weasel.

Then because JKR is committed to making Draco look ineffectual and comedic, she also makes him… not that bad? Most of his bad behavior goes down between books 1 and 3, and I’m sorry - when you’re 12 your politics are your parents' politics. You are not not responsible for that. By the end of the series Draco’s politics *have* changed, pretty drastically, and they changed under challenging circumstances.

I also think JKR accidentally gave him a better relationship with his father than she meant to? Jason Isaacs plays Lucius Malfoy as cold, I could see him being a *bit* of a bully when it comes to Draco -  but in the book, they go on outings, Draco complains to his father, Lucius is patient with him, gives him advice, sets boundaries, sends him little newspaper clippings in the mail. Lucius and Narcissa are running around without wands during the Battle of Hogwarts looking for him, and it’s supposed to be like “here are the Malfoys defanged.” But it's just a sweet moment. And if you’re positioning Draco as a romantic lead, then yeah I’d say that “good relationship with his parents” is an attractive trait.

The movie also did Draco Malfoy a HUGE favor by saying that yes, he absolutely does have the Dark Mark. That is never confirmed in the book. You can make the case that he doesn’t have it, and he’s doing what he does and embellishing the truth to seem more impressive. Hermione doesn’t think he has it. Ron says “I still don’t reckon You-Know-Who would let Malfoy join.” If he doesn’t have the Dark Mark, Draco gets to stay a semi-pathetic minor villain. But the second he does have it… well now you have someone who was given this tattoo/brand thing the *moment* he turned 16 (Draco has a June birthday) and now is 100% stuck. He is on a magical leash to Voldemort. He can’t run, can’t hide. All he can do is ride out this thing as best he can, and hope it doesn’t kill him or his parents. That’s a much more sympathetic character.

And my last thing, about the moment where he lies for Harry in Malfoy Manor (movies frame it as 100% a lie, books keep it more ambiguous)... is I don’t think J. K. Rowling realizes that Draco is the first person in the entire 7th book who helps Harry, at all. Molly Weasley is actively sabotaging the Golden Trio's planning by splitting them up and making them do wedding chores. Xenophilius Lovegood betrays them, Bathilda Bagshot betrays them, Rufus Scrimgeor is no help, Remus Lupin needs *their* help, Dumbledore gave them a series of maddening riddles. Snape gives them a weird puzzle to solve (also he’s very much acting under Dumbledore’s orders…) So when Draco DOES put himself on the line to buy them a few minutes, it makes for a pretty striking moment. He also keeps to this lie even when Lucius tells him not to, he lies to Bellatrix, he is almost certainly going to have to repeat this lie to Voldemort, who can read minds… 

So I think most fans look at Draco and see someone who is arrogant, a little bit of a shit, but is also sensitive, clever, emotional, nonviolent. (He’s definitely got a little bit of boy band non-threatening sexuality going on.) Draco will go out on a limb for the people he loves, and he comes through when it counts. There’s a survivor-mentality practicality to him, which is especially appealing in a series where so many characters are so willing to martyr themselves.

[dumbkiri]

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In the Heian Period, [Name] Inumaki was born. She became the Inumaki Clan Leader on her 17th birthday. The village people protected by her dubbed her as The Sorcerer Queen because of her unique curse technique; Cursed Speech. Not only that, she inherited another curse technique which came from her mother. This curse technique was called "The Third Eye". It allowed her to move objects with her mind and harness curse energy to become powerful attacks, gravelly injuring all species that were hit by it.

Uraume stumbled upon this small village and is shocked to hear that not a single soul has heard of Ryomen Sukuna. Baffled and disgusted by these people for having the audacity to ignore the strongest man, Uraume brings this news to Sukuna. Unbothered by the news, Sukuna tells Uraume to let the village be.

Uraume disobeys the order and goes back to the village. The people seem to be friendly and polite as they greeted Uraume with no pause. This unsettles Uraume and angers them to the point where they kill some villagers in the name of Sukuna. And if that wasn't enough show for power, Uraume cooks the people they killed and threatens for the audience to enjoy their meal.

Immediately, the villagers call out for their Sorcerer Queen to save them. [Name] perks up at the sound of her terrified villagers and tells her interesting partner that she needs to go. The man in her temple tells her that he can help her with the intruder. Skeptical, she accepted his help nonetheless wanting to see his true form and power.

Upon arriving on the scene, [Name] is appalled by the sight see is seeing. Her poor villagers feasting on cooked human flesh. Sorcerers today can only imagine the anger the Inumaki Clan Leader felt that day. Stories range from [Name] killing Uraume herself to [Name] controlling her villagers to kill Uraume.

But it was further from the truth. [Name] wasn't the one who wanted to fight Uraume. In fact, it was Sukuna Ryomen who wanted to engage in a heavy battle with his chef. For ruining his plan on having the Sorcerer Queen by his side, Sukuna declared to [Name] that he will put Uraume back into their place.

[Name] had other plans in motion. Instead she declared for everyone to remain still and silent. Sukuna and Uraume were victims to this command that felt heavy on their bodies. The King of Curses watched the young female approach the cooked human flesh with tears in her eyes.

Then she ordered Uraume to clean up her villagers of blood and flesh. Get rid of the human flesh and the dead bodies. Consider this mercy or else she would have had Sukuna beat the living shit out of her.

.....

"Mama, that's a bad word."

"Huh?" You looked down at the child in your arms and nervously chuckled. The child was right, you did use a bad word, but it was for good reason. Although you posed as this child's mother, you were actually [Name] Inumaki; The Sorcerer Queen.

You were telling this story to the child because you needed him to understand you a bit more even in story form. "Ah, Toge, ignore that word. It's just that you know? [Name] must have felt so much anger that day."

The little boy hummed and nodded his head, "Well yeah, if you were cooked as a meal, I would be very sad and mad. No one is going to cook you, right?"

You laughed at his question and hugged his body close to your chest. You snuggled in as he giggled.

"No one is going to cook me up, love. Now let's get you into bed."

Toge crawled out of your arms and began walking to his bedroom. You helped him dress into his pajamas then you tucked him in for some sweet dreams. He was a bit antsy until you commanded him with your soothing voice, "Sleep, young one."

He closed his eyes and immediately fell into slumber. You stayed kneeling by his bedside watching the rise and fall of his chest. A flashback of your own child returned to you and you dismissed it with a sad sigh.

It's been a thousand plus years of your cruel fate. One that was bonded to your King of Curses. You have waited and waited. You died only to come back to life a million times. You've been through wars, famine, sickness to bare the thought of your lover coming back.

Yet these years have made you human again. Caring for a little boy that wasn't yours and protecting the Inumaki Clan to the best of your ability. It was your fault that your clan almost went extinct. So now it is up to you to restore you clan's stability and spot as one of the strongest sorcerer families again.

..............................................................

|| important notice ||

I had to get this idea out of my head. It's a literal plague. So I really don't know if this will actually become a series.

[captain039]

PART 2 The lord and lady (Cooper Howard)

Cooper Howard x reader

Bridgerton and Cooper Howard is a muussstt

Warnings: Olden times, swearing, age gap, tension, slow burn, plus size reader, fat shaming, parental abuse, sexual things, eventual smut, angst, AOB (suppressed by vault tec)

I’m also gonna focus more on the AOB side, make it more AOB than I have been xD

I’m trying to use less Y/n but also failing lol

New mum and dad

Lady Grace

Lord Philip xD

Previous part <-

The morning after the ball makes you wish you never woke up. Your servant Diana greets you kindly before helping you get ready for the day. You feel sickly this morning, you sip some warm tea but it does nothing to soothe. Your father is nowhere to be seen thankfully and your Mama looks just as tired as you. One of the doorman walk in though saying their is a caller for you and you frown. Who on this earth would see you after last night, Lucy would surely be busy with suitors and so would the other ladies. The only other person you talked to was Lord-

Said lord walks in as if summoned by your thoughts, flowers in his hands and slips off his hat handing it to the doorman with a small thanks.

“Oh Lord Howard” your mama smiled at him as you stare baffled before your mama ushers you up.

“Greetings Lord Howard” you nod your head trying to look less tired than you’re feeling.

“Lady Grace” he greets before greeting you also.

“Such lovely flowers you have” your mama says when you don’t speak.

“Ah yes, here” the Lord looks down slightly with subtle embarrassment as he hands your mama the flowers. She places them in a vase as the Lord looks to you. You suck in a small breath feeling yourself jolt at the smell of honeyed whiskey and leather. You feel as if you should be appalled by such a smell, your father often drinking of the liquor but on the lord.

“Are you well my lady?” Lord Howard asks as you focus back on his worried face.

“Yes sorry, I had a restless sleep I’m afraid” you chuckle nervously glancing to your mama on the couch as she smiles.

“And at the ball?” He asks.

“I must’ve drank some off lemonade” you say before silently wishing you didn’t just share that with a gentleman.

“Apologise Lord Howard, I am well” you cover up eyes on the floor.

“It’s alright not to be” he says it softly, only for you to hear and you look up to him again. You feel as if you could jump in his arms and he’d gladly embrace you tightly, nose pressed against his neck. You look to his neck again mouth parting slightly before the front door is slammed shut. Your whole body jolts and a sour feeling pools in your stomach and floods your body. He’s probably drunk, or worse if there was anything worse.

“Lord Howard” your father says surprised as the man turns around, keeping you behind him.

“I’m afraid I didn’t expect anyone here” your father’s words slur despite him trying to keep up appearances.

“Dear, perhaps you should rest up, you’ve had a long morning” your mama speaks softly despite your father sneering at her. He goes to his room with the hell of a doorman having to help him up the stairs before your mama turns around, cheeks red with embarrassment.

“I’m so sorry, Lord Howard” she whispers afraid he may hear and you struggle to breathe a little. It’s always the same when guests are around.

“Perhaps you should go my lord” you suggest wondering why he even came in the first place. Your mama says your name a little snapped then apologises.

“When Lord Philip is well again we will have you over” she smiles as Lord Howard turns to you.

“I came in truth, to see if you’d like to see the foal? Your mama was telling me you loved horses while you needed some air” Lord Howard speaks a little quickly his face slightly in shock like he didn’t expect to say that.

“Yes that’d be wonderful” your mama beams as you’re left speechless as to why he’s even bothering himself to be here.

“After the next ball I’ll send an invitation” Lord Howard smiles.

“For your whole family, dinner too” he adds and your mama thanks him as he heads out the drawing room.

Cooper

His hands tremble as he takes his hat from the doorman and leaves your home. He sucks in the fresh air of the morning and sighs head hanging. He shouldn’t have been so obvious, or maybe he should’ve declared for your hand then and there just so your scent wouldn’t be so sour with fear. He knew your father’s reputation, horrid alpha of a man, drink bastard and a no doubt a family beater. He hadn’t seen you since you first went to lessons and fell off your horse. He hated the seething anger and rage he smelt on your father and the fear on you and your mother. You still hadn’t presented, you hadn’t undergone that stage of society outing yet. It’s already emerging though, last night he caught a spike in your scent, the beautiful sweetness of omega presenting for the first time. He knew then and there you were his, your eyes lingering on his neck, the way your tongue ran across your bottom lip slightly as you stared. He would’ve brought you close to him, let you know him, know his scent, breathe him in. His body shudders at the thought, your body against his, soft and warm, plump thighs and stomach. When you ran off in a fluster he almost smirked to himself to he caught fear and anger. Your mother had been pulled away from mid conversation too by her angry alpha. He excused himself from the young lady Maclean and weaved through the crowd only to see you getting shoved into the carriage like some lame mule. It made his blood boil, made him squeeze his glass of lemonade so hard he almost shattered it. He went home early also, in a rage, scared he may start a fight or argument with one of the members of society, hell one of the Overseers little following pups. Probably the Lord Maclean if he really thought about it. When he went home he sat with his mare and her foal, the young colt snorting at him intruding his space before realising he had pets and treats to offer.

The morning he wasn’t thinking as he went to your door, it wouldn’t be strange for a gentlemen to call on a lady from her first ball. You were so young though, not knowing anything of the true world. He’s thankful your father couldn’t abuse his power as alpha over you seeing as you didn’t know what it was. It didn’t ease his mind completely though. When he walked in you were sat in the couch in a daze before your mother snapped you out of it. You looked exhausted your eyes were dull and you almost swayed on your feet. You told him you were ill and tired before apologising. God help him he wanted nothing more than to bring you close, carry you to your bedroom, help you make a nest and comfort you till you slept properly. His time was cut short but the stench and sad excuse of a father coming through your door. The lord of the house stank of booze and simmering rage, how could one man even if he was an alpha have that much rage just simmering at the surface. Your poor mother had to steer him away before anything could be done and he let himself blurt the invitation of you coming to his ranch to see his mare and her foal, and dinner. He swore to himself silently as he took the carriage home, he didn’t want that damn Lord Philip anywhere near his house drinking his property of over angry alpha. It was his new safe place for you even if you didn’t know it. He’d protect you no matter the cost now.

[kayentokk]

|Calling the JJK men “dude”|

✭ Suguru Geto ✭

Prolly would be a little shocked/confused on the inside

Shrugs it off

“Hey man”

Replies with the same energy you give

Figured it’s just the mood today

his pride is a bit hurt so he’s gonna act like he doesn’t care that much

Continues doing what he’s doing

You call him that throughout the day

Gets irritated with you and ignored you

Eventually asks you why

Super petty about it later

✭Your day started with your friend sending you a funny video, this lady had called her husband dude. The man in the video You replied ‘lol 😂 poor guy’ but on the inside you were pretty curious how Suguru would act.

When you got to your apartment Suguru wasn’t there so you just lounged out on your couch. A few minutes later you heard the door opening, Suguru coming in with a slight grin on his face, “hey man!” You greeted him nonchalantly.

It took him a few seconds to answer as he was processing in his head the unusual greeting you just met him with. “Hey…man?” Not the reaction you were looking for.

Throughout the rest of the evening you when you would randomly show him something on your phone, call him over, or even ask him a question, you greeted him that way.

“Dude!”

“Oh my gosh bro!”

“Hey man…”

He finally got sick of it and asked, “y/n, are you okay?”

“Yeah man, what would be wrong?”

He’s sighs exasperated, “you keep calling me “man,” dude,” and “bro” you never do that. It’s weird.”

“Oh…I thought you didn’t notice, I just wanted to see what you’d say but I thought you didn’t care….”

“That’s stupid, don’t talk to me”

“Wait Sugu-“

“Oh now I’m Sugu again, no more “bro?”

He didn’t talk to you…for like 10 minutes he eventually gave into your antics after you apologized for like the hundredth time. After he was super pettily nonchalant about it. He just casually addresses you as “girl,” or “woman” to get on your nerves. ✭

✭ Satoru Gojo ✭

Completely overly exaggeratedly hurt

Fakes getting shot in the chest and falls out of his chair

He is so baffled that you just called him dude

“Baby?! Do you not love me anymore?!”

He’s so distraught that it’s hilarious

When you finaly get him to calm down so you can explain his undies are in a bunch

He’s all pouty and gives you the cold shoulder for like 2 seconds

He gives in for your kisses

✭ You were in a playful mood your friends had been addressing you as ‘bro’ and ‘broski’. So when you went home you automatically greeted your boyfriend like that without thought, it also didn’t help that you were kinda tipsy.

“Suuup brrooski!” You said in a chill tone, walking past Satoru making your way to the kitchen.

“Ugh!” You heard a soft ‘thump’ and turned around to see your goofy, appalled boyfriend on the floor.

“What are ya doin silly?” You giggled.

“My heart…how could you? Am I nothing to you anymore? Have I been demoted? Downgraded? Are you falling for someone else?!”

He’s so dramatic he knows you’re not falling for anyone but him, but you’re still confused. What is he talking about?

“What are you talking about?”

“Wooow! You- you don’t even notice the pain you’ve just struck me with. How could you call me broski? Is that what I am to tou now? A broski?”

“Awwww baby, I’m sorry, it’s just a habit,” you say as you walk over and pull him up off of the floor.

“Hmph!” He says crossing his arms into a pout.

“‘Cmonnn, I’m reaaaly sorry, mkay?”

He turns his head to the side ignoring your apology. You stand on your tippy-toes and peck his right cheek, “better now?”

He enwraps you in a warm hug and giggles, “better.”

✭ Itadori Yuji ✭

Poor bby:(

He’s tryna think of every possible thing he could have done to make you mad

Did something during your day bother you?

Was it him?

Literally almost cries before he can even form a single sentence to answer you

Doesn’t know how to respond

Should he call you dude too?

Is this a new cute couple thing?

Or will you get mad?

Should he do the normal and call you “baby” and “love of my life?”

Really lost

Also kinda hurt

✭Yuji was beyond happy! You texted and asked him if he wanted to hang out with you today, his answer of course being ‘yes!’ He wondered what you guys were gonna do, watch a movie? Play video games? Bake?! He could hardly wait.

He rang the doorbell anxiously awaiting your response.

“Hey dude, so today I have planned….”

He paused, tuning out whatever else you were saying. Did you- did you just call him dude?

What did he do?! Did he upset you? Was this the end? Is that why you wanted to “hang out” to slowly break it to him? Was is something that happened during your day? What did he text you? Did he forget to respond?! If none of that was it, then how should he respond?!

“Yuji!”

“Huh?” He said snapping out of his overthinking.

“You okay man? You kinda got lost there,” you say chuckling.

Oh no-not again. You did it again! He must’ve really done something now, but what? He just got here and-

“YUJI!”

“Yes?” He says tears swelling up in his eyes.

“Oh my gosh! Are you okay?”

“You- you, called me dude, twice….did,” he sniffled, “did I do something?”

“No! Oh my gosh no baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t even realize.”

You pulled him in a tight hug and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

“Sorry again.”

“No it’s okay, I was just a little lost,” he says almost embarrassed.

“I love you sooo much Yuji!”

“I love you too Y/n”✭

✭Nanami Kento✭

He’s just a little caught off guard

Mostly confused

Was about to say his usual “Hey sweetheart”

Stopped himself in his tracks

Tried to analyze the whole day and think what he could have done wrong

He’s pretty straightforward when he thinks there’s a problem

Asks you why you just called him dude

Asked you to never ever do it again please

Went on with his day

✭You walk into your shared apartment really frustrated. Today Nanami had off so it was nice to just rant to him as soon as you came home. The first thing out of your mouth after seeing your stoic husband was, “dude! People were seriously all up on my dick today! Like I wish they would have just backed the fuck off, my last nerve was literally strangled to death!”

People normally questioned how you and Nanami got together in the first place, with you being so hot-headed and him cool and collected, but that was the balance that you needed. Especially when you were mad.

Nanami understood you were upset, but he thought he did something considering the fact that you called him dude. He’s never gotten that before, even when you were mad. He analyzed the entire day and couldn’t find anything, so he figured it just came out because you were mad. He still didn’t like it though.

He cleared his throat, “first, I’m sorry that you had an unpleasant day, I wish I could make it better. Second, please don’t address me as “dude” again.”

“Aww I’m sorry ken, my sweetest honey ever,” you say walking over to him where he was on the couch and sitting on his lap.

The corners of his lips lifted a bit at your response, “it’s okay my darling y/n.”✭

✭Fushiguro Toji✭

Lowkey but highkey mad

He’s kinda bitchy about it

He’s gonna settle it right there right now

He’s thinking on the inside wtf is wrong with you

Like “why tf you callin me dude?”

His prides hurt cuz like is he just a dude to you?

You have to calm him down and he’s still not fully calm

He makes sure you know to never call him dude again

✭Toji had been purposely irritating you all day, he knew you had homework and a test to study for but he insisted on coming over anyway. claiming that he ‘won’t bother you’ yeah won’t bother you your ass. He complained about it being a mess, then he started hugging you from behind and touching you. You were getting really frustrated.

“Seriously dude, you’re getting on my last nerve,” you chastely said as you removed his arms from your waist and turned back around to do your work.

That stopped him dead in his tracks. He didn’t give not one fuck if he was bothering you, but the fact that you called him dude, that bothered him. No, it’s irked his entire being.

Your poor, poor choice of words lead to you panting and being denied to come for the third or was it fourth time already?

“Say it again kid, what did you call me?”

Safe to say you never called Toji that again.

✭Fushiguro Megumi✭

Definitely caught him off guard

Doesn’t show it though

His feelings hurt deep down inside

Still doesn’t show it

Feels like he’s being downgraded/demoted

Confused

Outright asks you why

Politely tells you not to do it again

Is clingy with you afterwards because deep down he needs reassurance

✭You busted into the Satoru residence knowing that’s where your helpful tutor boyfriend was. Satoru greeted you with you guys’ super secret handshake and a, “heyy bro!” And you in return did the same. “Heyy man!” You said giggling at the comedic greeting.

“Megs is in his room, as always.”

“Thanks,” you said walking towards Megumi’s room.

“Wassup bro!” You said peaking your head in from the corner with a smile.

Gosh Megumi loved your smile, it brought him inner joy, but he did not love that greeting. He knows about you and Satorus’ greeting, but he’d prefer if you left that for Satoru and not him.

“Why?”

“Why what?” You ask confused.

“Why’d you call me ‘bro’?”

“Oh, did I? Sorry,” you chuckled awkwardly.

“It’s fine, don’t do it again please,” he cleared his throat, “ready to start?”

You knew your boyfriend in and out, you’d have to since he seems irritated and tired all the time. So you knew him right now, he didn’t seem sad, more like disappointed.

You were pretty sure he was gonna ask you to sit across from him so that it would be easier to write, because elbow space. Instead though, he patted the spot right next to him.

You gladly took it and began working, but he was touching you more when he was showing you things.

“Alright, thanks for the lesson Megs!”

“Wait, Y/n you should stay a little longer…”

“But it’s almost 6 and I don’t all home…it’s gonna take me a while to get there,” you said sadly.

“I’ll walk with you, or get Gojo to take you.”

“Why do you want me to stay?”

“…Gojo‘s cooking dinner and I can’t be the only one to stomach that alone.”

“Oh,” you replied giggling, “okay, sure I’ll stay.”

“Hey!” Satoru shouts popping into the room, “I heard that!”

A/N:First time doing headcannons it was actually pretty fun, how did I do?

[seokjinsonlyone]

LMAO the last mtl you answered had the gears in my mind twisting too and I have an mtl now! Who do you think is mtl to get jealous/protective/throws an attitude at you when you and him are at a party or event and you see a celeb that you’ve had a crush on for a long time and you start fangirlling HARD lol

My thoughts on this

- Jungkook WITHOUT A DOUBT lmao he’s gonna be holding you near to him all night long and making your attention is on him

- V cause even tho this man knows he’s the shit, he doesn’t want you gushing over another man when he, THE Kim Taehyung, is right there lol

- Jimin because this man just wants all of your attention on him but he’s also a professional so he’s not gonna get super jealous in front of people too

- Jin because he is wwh and is baffled that you even think someone else compares 😂

- Now for rap line, I felt like they were all pretty on par with each other! I think I would put Yoongi above namseok now that I think about it just because. Like I have no reason lmao.

- But namseok tied for least because those two are so confident in themselves that they don’t mind you checking out other guys because they know whose bed youre gonna end up in that night 🤪 also they know they themselves have girls turning their heads to check them out too (eg. w Korea event when they walked in) so it evens out duh

LEMME TELL YOU RIGHT NOW i would smack the ego right out the back of namseok neck bc the only girl's head they should be worrying about turning is MINE like me personally i know where home is so I can fangirl and go off about whoever but i should be their entire world even in they innermost thoughts Yes i am aware that is a double standard i am a BOLD HYPOCRITE i do not care 😌

but you know what? i'm actually gonna go out on a limb and put seokjin first but ONLY bc this is in the context of a party like i don't think he'd necessarily be JEALOUS per say but he'd definitely be appalled at the notion of you either tryna leave him to go meet someone else or making him go with you to meet someone else like if he at a party he just there for appearances sake and only tryna be there long enough to say he was there before going home like mixing and mingling not part of the plan AT ALL and like you said whoever it is ain't WWH so why is you tripping?

i'm saying tae next bc he seem like he got a lot of industry friends and like just imagine being at the function and seo joon turn up like me personally imma stop in my tracks it don't matter if i've accidentally picked up one of his calls from tae phone or have said hi on facetime the first time i see him in person i'm grabbing onto tae arm hard enough to hurt i'm not breathing at a complete standstill bc it's park seo joon live and in the flesh like it's a wrap and bc that's his hyung he finna have a major attitude he'd be like girl i know this man that's like my brother and it's just like sorry bae he's 6'1 and i've seen the way he kiss on screen 🤷‍♀️ he'll still take you to meet him of course but you'll get a hello and a handshake at best before he signaling jimin to take you away

I KNOW IT'S SHOCKING THAT JK ISN'T FIRST UP BC HE'S USUALLY AT THE SCENE OF EVERY CRIME REGARDING JEALOUSY BUT HEAR ME OUT it's bc he'd think it's cute at first like it's all fun and games until he's with you talking to whoever and he see the hearts in your eyes and you kinda hitting it off with them and then it just would NOT sit right with him at all like after that you not meeting no one else not talking to anyone else if you so much as look at another person he might decide to drag you home altogether 💀

hobi's another one who would think it's cute like he'd be fine with it go up to them and introduce you to them and even leave you to talk to them but if 20-30 minutes passed and then he went around looking for you and found you with that person still he'd be like 🙂🚩 and then go make up an excuse to drag you away bc it's all fine and good and well to have a little crush as long as it stays just that A CRUSH like you not about to sit there and be friends with them LOL

i'm putting jimin next bc he's a tease like i really think there's some sort of sick sadistic part of him that would get off on you going googoo gaga for another man like he'd turn it into some sort of game MIGHT EVEN GO SWINGING IAJFOSJFO

i think namgi pretty much on the same level of like not caring like it's whatever they know how you feel about that person and would let you live your y/n life ONLY DIFFERENCE I THINK THAT EXISTS IS yoongi wouldn't point the person out to you like if you saw them and started freaking out he'd be like okay well are you gonna go talk to them or are you gonna keep hitting my arm and staring NAMJOON ON THE OTHER HAND he'd be just as excited as you are LOL like he's gonna be like omg bae look over there and then he's gonna rush both y'all over there to talk to whoever it is he'd probably end up becoming besties with your celebrity crush and hang their relationship over your head tbh

[cursed-cuckoo-wasp]

Hybrids of Hope or Hell

Chapter Two : Calla Lily

☽༺♰༻☾

Cuckoowasp tilted their head curiously towards the noisy cluster of plants. The wide deep blue eyes slowly expanded into a full dragon as the hiding Nightwing emerged from the bush. She was tall and slender, small stunted horns sprouted from her silvery-grey scales. The silver colouration was only broken by her jet black wings, a silver line clinging to the outsides of her starry wings. Her sea coloured eyes evaluated Cuckoowasp with a mixture of caution and curiosity.

"Who are you?" The pale green dragon questioned the shifty silver scaled dragoness. Cuckoowasp made sure to keep their words stern, making a point of aiming their dangerous tail at the Nightwing.

Raising their deep black talons, the Nightwing spoke defensively, "I'm Eclipse. Who the dark are you?" Her voice was low and smooth as she spoke, something Cuckoowasp wasn't expecting from such a small dragon.

"That's none of your damn concern. Why are you here?"

Eclipse raised her eyebrows at the hostile tone of the unfamiliar, strange looking dragon. "I should be asking you the same thing. I don't recognise you. I don't think I've even seen anyone like you before...Who are you?" The dragoness fluttered her eyelids as she asked the question once more, opting to clasp her from claws together in an exaggerated innocent gesture.

"Have the all-knowing Nightwings never seen a Hivewing before?" Cuckoowasp's tone was teeming with sarcasm as they slowly backed away from the grey dragon.

Blue eyes widening, Eclipse spoke in surprise, "you're a Hivewing? I've never seen a Hivewing that..." she looked the other dragon up and down for a few seconds before continuing her statement. "No Hivewing I've ever seen looks like you."

The strange dragon hesitated for a moment before responding to the awkward statements, "I don't know why I look like this but I know my tribe doesn't want any part of it." Cuckoowasp kept their face and tone intentionally cold as to not give any emotion away to this stranger.

Eclipse tilted her head curiously, "your tribe doesn't... want you? Why?" She took a tentative step forward, her wings fluttering behind her gently as she tucked them in.

"I don't know. They were never polite enough to tell me. My father is a regular hivewing and so was my mother, that was before she died in the tree wars that is."

The dark silver dragon gave an expression of pity, and maybe even a tinge of sympathy. "So they treated you badly? Just because you look different?"

"That about sums it up." Cuckoowasp bluntly replied, a little baffled at how this was a new concept to the similar aged nightwing. However, maybe nightwing's were just 'too superior' for that, they thought to themselves.

Glinting metallic scales shone in the afternoon light as Eclipse nodded before casting a cautious look around the seemingly vacant woodlands. "So, then... are you all alone now? Have you seen other hivewings since?"

Cuckoowasp's pale green head casually tossed over their shoulder, trying to disguise their fearful action of peering around the woods at the very mention of their tribe. "No, not since I almost died of exhaustion flying to this place."

"You almost what?!" Eclipse exclaimed, stepping forward as appalment spread across her face. "Why would you do such a thing? No dragon can fly across the sea by themselves, especially without stopping for long periods of rest!"

"It's not like I had much of a choice..."

A horrified mix of disbelief and shock glinted in her midnight blue eyes, "no choice? Are you serious?" Flabbergasted silence strangled the strange dragon's words for a few moments as she stood there dumbfounded. "You really had to fly for days and days all on your own? Are you crazy?"

"No, but the dragons who want me dead are, hence the flying to a whole other continent thing..." The unusual hivewing began to wonder if there was really any point of explaining their situation to this dragon. Pity started to swell in the nightwing's eyes, her gaze landed empathetically onto Cuckoowasp's own grey ones.

A sudden thought exploded into Eclipse's head and she looked as if she wanted to slap herself for not remembering earlier. Leaning in closer as if there were other dragon's around to hear, she whispered into the hivewing's pierced ears, "have you heard of the 'Hybrids of Hope or Hell'?"

☽༺♰༻☾

[rosyrosethorns]

(the last part of my little "return of jafar" selfship rewrite, in which madi changes the course of the final battle by snatching the lamp and wishing jafar free before it could be destroyed... but the good genie knocks jafar out when he's caught off guard, and the following argument ensues between madi & the protags)

୨ ——- ♡ ——- ୧

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—hold it right there, kiddo!!”

Those were the blue Genie’s words as he stopped Madilyn in her tracks after her desperate attempt to run towards the unconscious Jafar. Aladdin, who had been lifted out of danger right after the sorcerer was knocked out cold, was placed on the ground before he and Jasmine rushed towards the weakened parrot Iago.

“What’s your deal, huh?” the Genie continued. “You know how much trouble this jerk has been for us, and you’re still playing his cheerleader??”

The girl’s brow furrowed. “Move,” she sternly demanded.

Taken aback by her attitude, the Genie backed up as ordered; watching her run to Jafar’s unconscious form. “Yeesh… How sharper than a serpent’s tooth is a woman demanding you to move,” he quipped.

Aladdin cradled the injured parrot in his arms as he and Jasmine looked towards the troubled American girl… It baffled them how she showed more concern for Jafar than any of his former associates had—and everyone else, as well.

“Why did you help him??” the princess demanded. “This man corrupted my father the Sultan, tried to kill the man I love several different times now, and tried to rule Agrabah as a tyrannical sultan in my father’s place and my own!!”

The girl adjusted her glasses before glaring up at the young couple.

“Look… I’m sorry you got involved, Jasmine… cuz I genuinely respect your strong will,” she replied as she pulled Jafar’s head close to her chest. “And to tell the truth, at first I only agreed cuz… I was scared he’d hurt me if I refused. But… But we talked a lot between planning, and… I realized…”

… She was hesitant to say it out loud—she knew these people who were so angry over what this sorcerer had done will be appalled to hear her admit such a thing. “I—I understand your feelings towards Aladdin now,” she admitted; refusing to look the heroes in the eye. “You didn’t choose him for his wealth… You chose him for… how he treated you…”

And indeed, as Madi had expected, jaws dropped and even the half-conscious Iago raised his head as he coughed violently from the shock that sent him into.

“You love him??” Aladdin remarked. “That… That… snake deceived plenty of people!—how are you sure he hasn’t been deceiving you?!”

The girl glared up at him; still holding Jafar protectively. “Because he kept his end of our deal!” she snapped. “And he… treated me gently…! He said he enjoyed my company, he—he implied that a lot! He understood me to the point where… he didn’t judge me when I opened up to him!”

The good Genie had pulled out a notebook and a pair of glasses. “Umm, I’m sorry to tell you this, missy, buuuut these few behaviors can be used for manipulation—“

“SHUT.” The more she heard this argument from them, the more aggravated she got. “I am NOT. Letting you kill him. And that’s FINAL.”

None of them noticed the sorcerer starting to open his eyes, partially due to how lost they were in their argument but also because Jafar’s face was close to the girl’s chest…

“Well, I hate to break it to you, kiddo,” the Genie remarked as he removed his prop glasses, “but our options are either that or stripping him of his powers and locking him up, cuz he’s still trouble for Agrabah in his current state!”

“No. No, no, no,” the desperate girl replied, “we can talk this out; alright?? Just—Just don’t take him from me, please!!”

“Miss—“ Aladdin was about to continue the attempt to talk Madi out of her attachment when the heroes suddenly noticed Jafar wrap an arm around the girl; holding his staff high as he sat up. They would have moved quickly if the sudden spell hadn’t briefly disarmed everyone.

“Mark my words,” the sorcerer growled, “I will have my revenge…!”

Jafar and his new partner were both gone in a flash. Despite everyone’s concern, all they could do now was turn their attention to the barely-conscious Iago…

୨ ——- ♡ ——- ୧

It was Madi’s turn to have her head pulled into Jafar’s chest. She was still shaken by the sudden teleportation, and the timid feeling from being this physically close to her new crush only added to how flustered she felt.

“Treacherous parrot,” the sorcerer growled. “If he hadn’t interfered, I would have been able to destroy Aladdin once and for all!” However, his expression softened as he looked down at the trembling girl; running his fingers through her hair. “But you… Your actions were baffling to me at first, but now I understand that if it weren’t for your quick thinking the lamp would have been destroyed while my immortal life was still bound to it. This has ended in a setback… but as long as I still live, there will be another opportunity for revenge~”

To Madi’s surprise, the sorcerer embraced her with a fond smile. “And such an endearing little thing you are~ I never expected such strong loyalty from someone with few villainous traits~”

… The girl felt her eyes starting to water. She was admittedly scared that the words of Aladdin and his friends were true, that the fact they interacted with him in the past was proof their words about his dishonesty were entirely true, but the way he praised her and showed such affection even though things didn’t work out was enough for her to understand his support was genuine…

“Now,” Jafar spoke… “Since we are alone, I believe you wanted to gift me something?~”

Madi looked up at him with big watery eyes, nodding slightly in response. “Yes,” she muttered… To Jafar’s mild surprise, the girl cupped his face with both hands; hesitating for a moment out of nervous impulse before her lips fell upon his forehead…

[esther-dot]

So I was reading a bunch of your anon asks about R/L (not spelling out names so this doesn't show up in searches lol) and I agree with that anon that said the fandom forgets that GRRM is not some woke author. Way too many metas are written on the premise that he wrote this series with the sensibilities of a 20-something millennial and not a 50 year old man who conceived most of these plot points in the 90s. The refusal for certain fans/theorists (not including you in this I find your analysis and critiques very good and thoughtful) to call out and critique Martin's deeply problematic elements frustrates me to no end. It's okay to say certain things did not age well and the R/L/E dynamic is chief among them. Giving R's wife a gratuitously sexually violent death and a gratuitously gruesome death to her baby and toddler did not age well. Then proceeding to shit on her by having her husband's family's loyalists state that she was sickly and not good enough for him did not age well. Then proceeding to spend five books with those same characters depicting R as the Westerosi Prom King/Football Quarterback/Prodigal Son with basically zero substantial or significant pushback did not age well. I keep on seeing people say, 'Well, no it's because it's all a part of George's Big Plan and Reveal and an example of the the POV trap so don't get preemptively mad at him.' The defense of him essentially being 'No, you guys don't get it...he's going to perfectly execute the story that only exists in mine and his head for 12 years and counting and then you will see how he always meant for R to be a POS and for R/L not to be some star crossed lovers romance.' Yeah, no. I'm not giving him credit for an unfinished story and the fact that some of his fans do this is baffling. We're at this point that even if Martin does reveal R was even a little morally grey, a subset of the fandom will continue defending him like their lives depend on it because they are so married to their headcanons because Martin has not provided any actual content in over a decade (the show whitewashing did not help either). I'm not even going to broach the subject of the white feminist pickmes in the fandom that do everything and anything to defend Lily White Lieanna from any accountability and pushback from her complicitness in what happened because that's a whole other can of worms. LOL. End of my rant I guess. lmao.

My aunt who is around the same age as Martin, wanted to watch Saturday Night Fever with me (I had never seen it). She remembered and loved the music, the dancing, the costumes, the pain of these characters who were trapped and looking for an escape. There were all these good things she wanted to share with me, but I was shocked by how casually they threw in a rape, and how cruel the protagonist was to the girl right after it happened. I could not understand how my liberal, well educated, very up with social norms, aunt wasn't as appalled as I was when she'd last seen it. But she had watched that movie when it came out, hadn't seen it since, so her reaction to it had been fixed in that moment. Like a time capsule.

That happened years ago, but anytime a discussion about R/L and what Martin would/wouldn't do comes up, I think about that, and I try to draw a line between my sensibilities and what he actually wrote because as you and my other anon point out, R/L was conceived in a certain moment, in a specific milieu, and it isn't the one we're currently in. So, while I certainly don't think Rhaegar is the guy that Targ fans believe him to be, I no longer believe Martin intends us to take the other extreme.

Rhaegar called the place where he took Lyanna "the tower of joy," and Martin would have to want us to think Rhaegar is a truly sadistic bastard if that's what he called the place he repeatedly, forcibly raped Lyanna. Considering what Martin has said about how he wants to write morally grey characters, how he has written Cersei, Tyrion, the Hound...I just don't buy that that's where he's going, not anymore.

More broadly, I’ve read a lot of literary analysis, I know how easy it is for people to write really, really interesting essays that I love, but in actually, have absolutely nothing to do with the book/poem etc that it’s discussing. It’s a beautiful thing that we each experience art uniquely, but it does mean we have to be careful when it comes to actually believing what we takeaway from something is the same as what they put in. There’s also a danger in thinking loving the art means we understand the artist’s mind. The same mind can produce something I love and something I hate. Experience that enough times and you realize, you can’t put parameters, a would/wouldn’t, on where they’ll take things.

And, even hardcore Martin fans acknowledge the racist issues with his writing, criticize how he sexualizes little girls...I don't think any of us need to defend him. We all know that these are issues with his writing, we may not agree that they will manifest in the worst way going forward, but it's possible. Unfortunately.

[loveroped]

unfinished mayor and mother spore royalty au one-shot!

----

Baffled. Baffled, that's what they were. Shocked, surprised, afraid. Their footsteps echoed throughout the large halls as they walked through. Their chest ached and their throat burned. Their mind seemed to bounce around their head, hurting, pulsing. They couldn't think, They couldn't breathe.

Oh, they hate it, they hate everything, they hate him. (No, they don't. They could never hate him.)

This hall has never seemed as long as it does now. They stormed through, destination in mind. No amount of time would be soon enough for them.

Angry, furious, appalled.  They needed to speak, yell, and scream. Yet it would not be enough. It hurts them, all throughout their body. They'd break down these walls if they had to.

No time was soon enough, yet when they got closer they felt like they needed more. They weren't ready, oh, they were never ready. But it all ached. The world, it yelled at them in anger, fear, they didn't have anywhere to turn back to because of his stupid, stupid, stupid-

They were almost sure that the slam of the door echoed throughout the whole castle. They're breathing was quick and unsteady, suffocating.

There he sat at the table. Waiting, expecting. (Disappointed.) 

Their eyes burned, vision seemed a blur. The world screamed at them.

They did too. "Scar, what is wrong with you?"

A question, one they weren’t sure they wanted the answer to. It hurt, their throat ached at every word spoken. 

"It had to happen." 

“They had to die?!” They shouted, their hands making gestures of disbelief. They hoped they heard it wrong, they desperately hoped-

“There was no other choice,” he sounded numb when he spoke, Scar didn’t even look them in the eye. They couldn’t read him, they didn’t know if they wanted to.

“We could’ve made one!” They yelled, breathing harsh. “We could’ve- We could’ve figured it out if you just gave us enough time! Now those poor soldiers are out there, fighting without the ability to come back home! Are you so heartless?”

There was a tick of silence, they almost sobbed. Maybe they already were.

They felt sick, nauseous. Horrible.

“There was no time, Grian. We didn’t have a choice, I just want to keep the kingdom safe.” His voice was unsteady, as if he might cry. Grian didn’t feel guilty.

“Keeping them safe? By sending them of to a suicide mission with smiles on their faces? You can’t keep them safe if you’re killing them-”

“What do you know about safety?! Last I remembered you were taking everyone under control, for what? The fun of it?!” Scar yelled back, cutting them off. He stood up, arms waving in the air as he spoke. His eyes looked straight into theirs, tears. 

Grian almost fell through their legs, right then, right there. The world under their feet sobbed and screamed. At them or at Scar, they didn’t know.

“You don’t know anything about me.”“Maybe that’s the problem!”

Silence, for just a second. Breathing, it traveled through the ground.

“Maybe, just maybe, that’s the problem!” He repeated himself, his face seemed almost red. “I don’t know anything about you! I don't know what you want, I don’t know what you are, hell, I barely know what your actual name is!” He yelled out, out of breath it seemed.

“And that’s my fault?!” They yelled, the floor almost seemed to shake under their feet. Their body felt heavy.

“I don’t see anyone else to blame!”

“You pathetic little-” They were in disbelief. Their look seemed enough to send fear through millions of soldiers. Scar didn’t seem fazed. 

[blueflipflops]

Thats exactly whats I've been trying to say to people.

(Warning: Long rant under the cut. Don't need to read. Just frustrated and had to write. You can scroll past this :) )

With Spiderverse becoming 'mainstream' media, it brings in new fans to the already established fandom on obscure Spider-man comics. New fans who are eitheron their first time interacting with a fandom or just someone who hasn't delved as deeply in the fandom culture as we [old fans] have.

A lot of new fans who have only interacted with newer more 'sanctioned' more 'censored' media without ever delving deep enough as we do or just not as obsessed with analyzing [meta] media for the fun of it while discussing it with fellow fans [as one of the social rituals of fandom culture]. Some of these people are kids. Others are adults. But new fans would always get culture shocked when they enter an already established fandom with only [one] source with them. Now this doesnt mean poeple should know [this] or [that] amount of stuff to be part of a fandom, but they had clearly came with expectations that what they have is enough to carry them thru and Some would just not Listen that that is not the only source of media that interacts with this fandom.

That being said, as new fans come with expectations and are still used to censorships from their usual sites they engage with, (e.g. twitter, tiktok, etc.) They would expect the same level of Censorship and a Weird Sense of Morality being pushed upon fictional characters without any media analysis. And with the Marvel/ Spider-man/ Comic Fandom already established before the big censorship thing happened to the new sites they currently use, the fandom has its own thing for a long time and [Also] weren't used to being 'Mainstream' Media.

This would then trickle down to small problems that cause a lot of issues that old fans brushed off at first. One of the big issues Spiderverse Fandom has continuously brought up since the start of ATSV [2nd movie] was Spider-Punk's age and wheter or not was it [Moral] to ship him with Miles Morales, an Afrolatino 15 yr old character. [on PunkFlower]. A lot would claim it as ['Proship'] and would relentlessly shame people who make content for it [the ship]. Going as far as senting hate anons and death threats online for it. I was seriously appalled with the whole negativity and the absolute close minded, emptybrained uncreativeness of these people. I was also baffled at the fact that age gap is enough to get them Clutch Their Pearls. As an old [Comic] fan in both DC and Marvel, this is... weird for me who have seen absolutely brain damaging worse the fandom can offer. Me who occasionally delve thru the [Dead Dove: Do Not Eat] tags that are often featured in Many Fandoms. I have seen Way Way Worse than the percieved age gap between the two when I also have read a fic once about one character dating his grandfather (and sleeping with him or whatever). Fandoms have shipped Way More Problematic ships than that. I saw that one [nsfw] fic in [ao3] where they Really Emphasized the age gap thing and made it incest (did not actually read it but wow) They made Miles 12 and Hobie 22ish? Can't remember. Anyways. I saw that and thought 'Wow. That is One Petty Asshole. Go for it dude.' And Moved On with my life. I saw that fic and remember that one other DC fic where the robins are in a sexual relationship with Batman with the tags 'writing this to show people what incest really is' 'and to show that i can write whatever i want' and it was downright Nasty.

Anyways, listen, what im trying to say is that if they really wanted to make the ship Problematic then they WILL make it Problematic as fuck. You thought age gap was problematic? They would amp that shit up to 1000. Y'all ain't seen nothing yet. Why are y'all flaming on a ship that people make cute headcanons and little art to? I promise you there are some people in the fandom that has balls of steel who would take that as a fucking challenge.

Then the other ships. SpiderBite(? I dunno what their ship name is. Dont usually engage in that) and ChaiPunk. Both with one character in an established relationship. People push Morals on stuff on 'Oh but he's married!' And 'Oh but he has a girlfriend!' My dude. Thats what shipping is for. We're not pushing to make it canon. We're not Miguel here or the directors of this movie. We're just fans. We can pick canon that we [like] but we CANNOT pick WHICH is [canon]. We can like peices of canon and not like others but we cannot change what canon is. Especially with so much 'canon' in comic book fandoms.

Honestly, the fandom hasn't even have that much media literacy to begin with yet more people are coming in without thought and pushing [censorships] and [Morals] on characters and sending death threats over them. Makes me sad really. Like comic fandom is already shit on their fellow fans sometimes but this just made a whole new wave of assholes coming in to shit on people who loves the same media as them but not in way they do. We're all just devolving into monkeys, are we?

Again, there is nothing wrong with joining a new fandom but please do not send death threats to people for fictional characters about a fictional story. Also, please tag your shit [Properly] for the [safety] of others.

The Spiderverse fandom is clearly some people’s first fandom.

“Why are you shipping Peter and Miguel? Peter’s married. That’s cheating.”

BITCH I KNOW YOURE NOT SERIOUS- THEY ARENT REAL. YOU WONT DIE IF YOU SEE FANART OF THEM KISSING. GROW TF UP

[smoothklopperator]

Big Mama Thornton Reading Reflection

It is clear that Black music throughout history has been routinely stolen by White artists, who in turn receive 100% of the credit and recognition for these songs. This is something that I have known for quite some time. What I did not know, however, is how little I actually knew. When our class began our reading and discussion of Big Mama Thornton and the appropriation of rock music, I was completely shocked. In the back of my mind I knew I had heard somewhere that someone once told me something about Elvis Presley stealing music from Black artists, but I was shocked when I learned through this reading how blatant it was. At the same time, I was glad, in a away, because finally I was learning about Big Mama Thornton, and I could now acknowledge the rightful owner of songs such as “Hound dog” and “Ball and Chain.” This gladness was not bestowed upon me unaccompanied, however. I could not help but to feel appalled and a little guilty. How had I lived 19 whole years on this planet, having listened to songs like the Elvis Presley version of “Hound Dog,” and not have known that these tunes were stolen like a broad day robbery that could not be stopped.

I understand that copyright laws, especially on the topic of music, were a little different back in the day, but that still does not settle anything in my mind, or in reality for that matter, that excuses such blatant appropriation. As I sit here and type this, it does not so much baffle me anymore that such an act occurred during this era. Elvis was not the only artist doing this unfortunately, and this “trend” of ripping music from the hands, and bank accounts, of Black artists was nothing new. What does confuse, and in turn, infuriate me, is the lack of attention it gets. While I am not saying that nobody talks about it, or that it is not written about, because it clearly is, but that I am shocked that is not more commonplace knowledge. Again, I am sure there are plenty of people who know, and I know 19 is pretty young, but as someone who is an avid music consumer, and as someone who produces music myself, I still cannot believe it took a university course for me to find out who really wrote “Hound Dog,” and to understand the extent to which plenty of other famous rock songs were stolen by White artists. 

Even just a few months ago, in 2022, after my girlfriend saw the film “Elvis,” a movie about Elvis Presley’s life, I remember she told me how she did not enjoy it much, and how inaccurate it seemed to be because of the fact that so many details about the ugly parts of his life were left out. One of these “ugly parts,” was his egregious appropriation of Black music and culture. It is hard to believe that this movie, released in 2022, in a world of media that certainly feels progressive, that there was a lack of mentioning such a thing. I hope that going forward, topics like these are more well-known, for there is a famous saying about history: ​“Those who cannot remember the past are condemned to repeat it.” – George Santayana.

[saphirafoxgirlspost1]

(Open Rp) "The Hook up" Base of Kim Possible and DragonballZ Crossover

On the Beautiful Day Of the wedding, Saphira's Father Warned Ron That If He Finds out about his "Infidelity" and ruined This Lovely wedding, He Will make sure that he will never, ever Speak to this town again.. but During the Lovely Ceremony..the Priest said," If theres any Objection or a reason this couple Should Now be wed, Please speak now Or Forever Hold Your Peace And then Wade Stepped up and said," I Object!" The Guest Gasp and bewildered by wades Words and then he said to saphira," Saph! Ron Is a Cheater! and I have a Proof but I didn't Gather the evidence alone!" He called Up Saphira's friends and all..and She said,"Wade.. Show me this evidence...because I want to know If Ron Has been faithful to me or not...so please show it to me and my family and friends." When Wade Nodded, he Pulls Out a Flashdrive and began to insert to the laptop and pulls down the screeen and It reveals to the video of Ron and Kim Made beast with two backs as Many guest gasp loudly, Ron and kims Parents was Shocked and appalled, Saphira's father was Furious at Those two..Saphira Knew somethings Fishy about Rons Little Abusive behavior...She turns and Glares at Ron and She said," I knew somethings Fishy is going on with you and your Damn "Abusive behavior" Towards me! You've been Hiding tha Fact that you've been cheated on me With My Best friend, So tell me...Is there Something that I Need to know or Would you want wade to continue to show me your true color?" But Wade told me that Wouldn't be nessecary..So He called up to this Little girl who has Blonde Hair with red...with green eyes and has freckles like ron and Kims..Saphira gasp horrificly...this Little girl was only 4 years old though...She turns to Ron coldly and she Said," Tell me Ron...Is this child Yours?!" She Questioned him...and Ron Lower his head with shame..Saphira gasp and Smack him on his face and said,"So tell me again ron...Did you Killed my Kids For this!?" She got angry and pointed at the kid and Kim..then Ron Said with guilt Tone," Yes...i did..." Saphira was So Shocked and Fuming with Rage..and She said, " So let me get this straight ron! You Killed my Kids So that way they Don't Found out that they have an Older sibling from their Own Godmother and Not only this! You wanted to get your greedy hands on my Fathers Fortune and Left me High and Dry so you can Be with my Best friend Kim Who I Trusted her all my life since we were Children!?...IS that it!? Is that Explain how you become So abusive toward me because you've been hiding in affairs for 4 years, Is that even true!?" Then Ron Blurr it out with guilty Tone,"YES YES! I Admit it...I did this..." All the guest gasp and Saphira Family yelling and Scolding ron and pointed fingers at him and Shouted in japanese at him, But then Saphira raised her hand to gesture her family and friends to quiet down..and then She turn to ron after she pulled the ring out of her finger and She said to him in her coldest tone of them all," You know what ron?, I think YOU And My Maid of "Dis"Honor Kim Should be Married today!" She throws the ring at Kim with anger..But Ron baffling and said," But what about you!? This is OUR Wedding!" Then Saphira Answered," Not anymore! You Only married Me for my Fathers Money and Mine, Including your Cursed Little scheme to create a Strip club and be a "Pimp" and treated me like a Slave to you! And Today...you and Kim can get married! and Your Not going to get a Single cent out of me or my father! and besides...What i'm Feeling sorry For! IS your Daughter! Aren't you feel ashamed that your Setting a Most "Horrific" Examples right infront of your Offsprings..thinking that it's ok to kill off the children in the Womb while trying to get your Greedy hands on peoples Money! You should be ashamed of yourself! You made your big ass bed, and now..your going to Lay down like a freaken Corpse..*turns to kim* And as For you Kim! Our Friendship is over! You destroy this family and friendship with your betrayals and all..I cannot trust you anymore..and that goes For you too Ron!, Look what the Cheating Has Done To

me and everyone else including your Daughter!...So..I'm Done Ron, It's over..your getting married to kim! Family..lets go...and also Ron..Take my advice! "Everything has a price, You Robbed it and your paying for it" And thats your going to do now, including the wedding and reception! Goodbye!" And just like that...Saphira was heartbroken...She left middleton along with her family...She and her family began to move back to her beautiful homeland..which is Tokyo, Japan...7 years Later, Saphira was at the Cat Cafe with Her good friend Yuki...Yuki was there for saphira and Already knew about the incident, So she began to comfort saphira with a Nice treat..but then yuki said,

Yuki:" Saphira, it's been 7 years Since the Wedding incident and Your a Big mess. I think it's time For you to Move on, And You Need someone who loves you for you!.."

Saphira: *Sighs* " Your Right Yuki, But..what Man Would want me Now? after this..Whole wedding incident 7 years ago? I need a Man who wasn't like Ugh...Ron.."

Yuki:" Don't worry Saph, Your friend got you back and we will hook you up to a Nice decent guy. Trust me saph, We'll make Sure that you'll never Mention to that Horrible Ex Of yours again! and that is My Promise to keep!"

Saphira Smile and Nodded..She hugs her good friend..and then Few Weeks later when she stayed at her Own beautiful Luxurious Home..She got a text from Yuki and it Says,"I found a Really great guy! and we are setting you up on this wonderful Date!" Saphira was pretty suprise about it, so she decided to wear a Nice dress..and yuki told her where she and this "Date" Should be meeting at...So she goes to this lovely cafe and waiting for the date..until..She saw a Saiyan coming in..Her fox ears perks up when she sees that her date is a Big Male saiyan and then..he saw her and came to her and he said....

[suna-reversed]

𝐩𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡

toji fushiguro x reader

You could have anyone you want

Why would you want to be with me?

I’m nothing special

WC- 8k+ || MINORS DNI !!

my fic for the “great conjunction collab”

Warnings/tags- (unprotected sex, oral sex, slight voyeurism, choking, nipple play, mating press, size kink, slight breeding kink) (historical AU, non-canon timeline, greek mythology, hades-persephone retelling, mentions of misogyny/sexism, depression, religion, hurt/comfort, angst, heartbreak, major character injury, descriptions of blood, violence and death, manipulation)

𝙀𝙧𝙞𝙙𝙖 - 𝙝𝙖𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙙

It would be an understatement to say that Toji, despite being one of them, had never felt like part of the clan and had hated the whole Zenin bloodline through all his years of suffering.

And the only thing he hated more than his own blood? It was the damned nobles who looked down upon him- mocking his lack of power under whispers and rumours. The spineless cowards didn’t even have the courage to spit those venomous words at his face.

He kept note of every single one of them- it was hard not to with how their laughs echoed in his mind each night as he dug his nails into his palms. So of course his attention was bound to drift towards the mother and daughter from a titled family that happened to take residence in the Zenin estate when they got news that their home down-south had been attacked. 

𝘼𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙚𝙖- 𝙞𝙣𝙣𝙤𝙘𝙚𝙣𝙘𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙞𝙩𝙮

Your home had not been attacked. It was all planned of course- your travel to the mountains up north that crossed the Zenin abode, your mother having fabricated the news so that she had an excuse to find an honourable match for you from one of the most powerful clans. Her sly spies had already done the dirty work, providing you with two suitable men- even if one of them was twice your own age and the other known for his aggressiveness. 

The white gown your mother had dolled you in and the orchids she had braided into your hair had every single eye focused on you as you made your way up to your chambers. You kept your head down, too nervous to meet the eye of anyone- hoping no older man took an interest in your facade of purity and innocence and decided to stake his claim on your body. Oh, how you wished you could get away from this life, get away from the wretched woman you had to call your mother, get away from all of it- the stupid clan- the stupid suitors- the stupi-

“Ah!” 

You yelped as your body crashed into what seemed to be a rock hard wall of muscles, the scent of night chilled mist and cedar taking over your senses. You blinked. 

Gulping, you moved back a step, ready to start sputtering apologies before your mother peeled your skin off for already having embarrassed yourself. Instead, your words stayed stuck in your throat as your gaze met with an intense pair of orbs- filled to the brim with the rage of achilles, but somehow also his sorrow. Your breath hitched in your throat, and in the back of your mind, you knew you should do something- move, apologise, scowl like a noble lady would if nothing else- but all you could do was stand there stunned, the man’s stance mirroring your own. 

You flinched as the pot-bellied butler who was leading you down the hallway came back, and you thought the dark haired man might kill him right there for interrupting the burning moment between you two. Instead, you were shocked as he let himself get pushed to the side, stuffing his hands into his pockets, head down as he made a beeline towards the exit.

You barely felt the crescent moons being engraved into your skin as your mother dragged you to your room by the arm, a clipped smile on her face. 

𝙊𝙧𝙥𝙝𝙚𝙪𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙀𝙪𝙧𝙮𝙙𝙞𝙘𝙚- 𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙗𝙞𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙣 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚

“Toji”

He continued walking, even as his eyes held a warning look. Gritting his teeth, he increased his pace.

“Toji-”

He shuddered. Say it again, he wanted to command, instead he turned the corner, hands curling into tight fists.  

He had been confused at first, almost appalled, at you- at your audacity to try and act like he wasn’t who he was- a piece of scum, the lowest of the lowly in the clan. But it seemed like this is how you had decided to spend the rest of your time whenever you weren’t being flagged by suitors or being paraded around your mother as the ideal of a chaste loyal wife. 

He had indulged you the first time you had struck up a conversation. Perhaps that was his initial mistake. His second being committed just now as he turned to you, the glee on your face making bile rise up to his throat. He had seen women like you before- well born “ladies” of the court in dire need of a good fuck, before they were packaged off like objects to a husband who’d only ever look at them as a vessel for carrying his children. Toji huffed in annoyance, eyes doing a quick scan of his surroundings before he grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the storage rooms right around the corner. 

“Look-”

Toji cut himself off as he saw the baffled look on your face, your eyes starting to fill up with fear and panic. Somehow, he found himself speechless, the bitter words of telling you to go look for pleasure in a whorehouse now dissolving on the tip of his tongue.

He knew who you were being considered as a match for- having overheard the conversation during a clan meeting- it was supposed to be the sons of one of the higher ups and he could already picture the half wilted life you’d be living. And right then, something clicked in Toji’s mind- all those years of hatred and resentment flashing before his eyes as you hesitantly stepped back, tears welling up in your eyes, and right there, Toji knew what he wanted to do- what he had to. 

He took a deep breath and your heart hammered even harder in your chest. He had been different from the rest of them- you had known it from the first time. However, now you doubted your own wits, trying to recall the ways of combat you had seen the soldiers back home perform- even though you didn’t quite see how you’d succeed against the tall burly mass of flesh that towered above you. You jumped back as he strode right towards you- eyes clenched shut, hands raised in front of your face ready for the impact and pain. 

You were met with nothingness, barely feeling the light brush of his arm as he moved past you. 

Toji sighed at your almost childish antics, even though he agreed your actions would have been justifiable if it was any other man having pulled you into such a secluded place. He waited for you to calm down, lazily looking for the latch of the huge glass window situated on the other side of the room. He easily lifted it open, biceps flexing as he did so- placing his hands on the ledge before pulling himself to the other side.

He turned back towards your gawking figure, rolling his eyes, ready to put forward the offer that would decide if you were worth his time and effort or not. He extended his hand, trying to ignore the heat crawling up to the tip of his ears at the giddy relief-filled grin that spread across your face as he asked, 

“You ever visited the countryside princess?” 

--

You must be an angel in disguise, he finds himself thinking. It terrified him- the time he had spent staring at the column of your neck, watching your chest fall and rise with every breath- and the time he could have spent simply admiring every crook and nook of your body. 

You looked serene in the golden hour of the afternoon, lying on the grass with your eyes shut, sunlight cascading down your figure making it seem as if you carried your own halo. Toji was afraid you’d sprout wings any second now, disappearing away to someplace heavenly- someplace better than the hell you were about to be condemned to- someplace that didn’t have monsters like him. But at last, you were only a human- soon to be one of the Zenins if nothing else. 

The time you had sneaked out to the lake in the countryside with him had not been the last of your rendezvous. You had been quite different from what Toji had expected. You hadn’t made any advances towards him but you weren’t the pure little thing everyone believed you to be either.

You were smart to say the least- a trait that families often suppressed in women of your status, trying to force them into nothing but submissive concubines for their future husband. You were oddly aware of it- had mentioned your doomed fate quite a few times now, and he was struck by how you always laughed, as if your own self being stripped away was a joke. You seemed to do that quite a bit, and he understood it in some twisted way of his own plight. 

Even as his mind kept reminding him that you had still grown up being pampered, being spoiled, having others do your work for you- others like him. But conversation had flowed so naturally with you, he found himself showing you more and more of his places of solitude he had found all over the village through his years of misery.  

You were also naive in many ways, but still blunt in twice as many. Toji had rolled his eyes as he had asked you what you did with your free time back home- the answer was expected- it always had to be something related to the arts and education, trying to pump the ladies full of culture so that they have something to talk about at the dozen balls and galas they’d be attending every month. However, he had almost choked on the pear he chewed as you had started listing names of erotica after erotica- the titles being lewd enough to let him know just how filthy the content inside would be. 

You had burst into laughter at the look on his face, crumbs of fruit left on the side of his mouth making him look even more bizarre. You had reached up your fingers almost instinctively, eyes widening as you realised you had brushed them over the scar he never seemed to talk about. His hand was wrapped around your wrist in less than a second, halting it in place. 

He had stared right back at you, breaths heavy, eyes calculating as he loosened the grip around your skin, but not before he lifted your fingers to press against the mark once more. You swore you could have heard the drumming of your heart, and perhaps he did too.

As you brushed away the remaining bit of the sweet fruit, you couldn’t help but notice the flush that had formed on his cheeks, even as he scowled. 

𝙀𝙧𝙤𝙨- 𝙥𝙝𝙮𝙨𝙞𝙘𝙖𝙡 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙞𝙧𝙚.

“You’d better be quiet or everyone’s going to know what a naughty little slut you are.”

You’re bent over the table in the storage room that has somehow become your portal of escape from the person you have to pretend to be. It’s not the first time Toji has whispered his filthy administrations into your ear, but he’s never done it quite so close to where anyone could walk in and catch you red handed. 

Perhaps it was the fact that his face had turned a sick shade of green at the sight of your suitor tucking your hair behind your ear, your lips twitching upwards at something he said- the same way they had twitched up the night before when he had risen from in between your legs, the taste of yourself flooding your mouth as he had pressed his lips to yours. 

This is exactly what you were here for, and despite it, Toji knew who’s name you screamed at the end of every day. So then why did another hand on you ignite a bestial flame inside his chest? Why did he feel the need to pull you away in the dead of the night amongst the crowd of tipsy people, ridding you of the fabric of your dress in one swift movement as he had pressed you against the nearest surface. 

You didn't panic for even a moment, you knew it was his hand just from the touch of it, his hot breath against the shell of your ear, and his throbbing member pressed against the curve of your behind as a thumb rubbed circles into your hip bone. 

You throw your head back against his muscular chest, craning your neck upwards till you meet his eyes- they soften for the briefest of moments, but the way his tip brushes against your underwear-clad core seems to fill them with raw electricity once more. And you think he’s going to fuck you right there- make you cry out his name for letting another man so close to you. Instead, you gasp as his rough hands grab the flesh of your thighs, kneading the muscle as he spins you around, a smirk being flashed your way as he gets on his knees. 

He looks ethereal in that moment. And your breath hitches in your throat as you realise you’ve made a fallen angel bow before you- have tricked him into thinking you can cleanse him of his deeds when the only sinner in this room was you. The way his lips press against the inside of your thighs, nose rubbing against your freshly flowing juices- it’s tantalising, even worse when he takes both your hands in his as they try to find solace in his locks, pinning them to your sides onto the table instead. 

He rests his chin right below the apex of your mound, eyes wandering to your face as he sighs, the lazy but smug curve of his lips accentuating the scar you had grown to cherish as much as your own heartbeat.

Your chest is heaving, the sound of your heavy breathing hanging in the silence of the room as you look down at him. If this was to be his ruination- his fall from grace- Toji would die a happy man. The scent of you is lingering right below his nose, his mouth watering alone at the thought, but he cannot seem to pull away his eyes from your beguiling face, bathed in the moonlight. The words seem to escape him before he can think twice of them.

“Do you know how beautiful you are? It’s truly distracting.”

You’ve barely let his words settle in before he presses his thumb right against your wet heat, rubbing small circles onto your sensitive bud. You don’t have a chance to respond as he proceeds to dive into your drenched cunt- his tongue giving kitten-licks to your clit, lapping up any wetness that dares to drip down. You cry out loud as two of his fingers join his mouth’s onslaught, slapping a hand against your own mouth remembering where you were. 

The sounds filling the room as he suctions your clit in between his lips are filthy- arms wrapping around and under your thighs, pulling your arousal even closer to his starving mouth, the new angle of your leg being thrown over his shoulder letting his fingers rub against the spongy spot inside your walls that makes the coil in your stomach snap. You’re grinding against his face and he’s letting you, nose pressing onto your clit as he licks up the remnants of your juices, fingers continuing to fuck you through your climax as they quiver and shake around his head. 

You’re still coming down from your high, body hanging limp at an awkward angle against the hard wooden surface. His strong burly arms are easily lifting you up, carrying you towards the other side of the room- right towards the glass window. Your eyes widen as you realise the malicious idea that has popped up into your lover’s head, but you’re barely able to put in two words of protest before your feet are hitting the ground, the cold surface making you gasp as your tits are pushed against it. You’re crying out loud as he rubs his thick length against your soppy folds. 

“Toji- someone could see us- we shouldn’t- ah!”

You’re cut off as he lines himself up at your entrance, a pleasurable burn down in your core as his girth stretches your walls. It always hurts. No matter how many times he’s made you cum on his fingers and tongue or prepped you up with an ointment- his size is something no one would ever get accustomed to. He knows it too, but tonight he seems to care less about taking it slow and letting you adjust. You honestly cannot care less too, not when you're gushing around him as such when he’s barely even halfway inside. 

“Too big Toji- too much.” You’re mewling, hands trying to grip onto something.

“You can take it- fuck just let me-”

He’s hastily moving his fingers across your stomach to rub your pulsing bud, groaning lewdly at the way your cunt flutters around him, letting him move deeper inside of you.

The growl that leaves him as his tip hits your cervix is grossly animalistic, making you moan loudly. His other hand is coming up to grip your jaw, cheek pressed against the glass as he lifts up one of your legs, the angle letting him thrust in and out of your poor drenched hole even deeper. His thrusts turn sloppy, eyes clenched shut above you as the sounds of his balls slapping against your flesh with each thrust fill the room.

You’re both groaning in unison, his strokes getting faster as he feels your walls clamping down on him. You’re choking on a breath as his hand moves to wrap around your throat, the sensation making you moan even louder.

“Call me selfish-”  

A sharp smack is delivered against the flesh of your ass causing you to arch your back, the action making your tits press up against the window even more,

 “... but I don’t ever want anyone else to touch you.”

His lips have been suctioned to your neck, your delightful noises being muffled as he’s turning your head to the side till his tongue slips into your mouth. He tightens his grip around your neck and you’re seeing stars, along with the pace of his fingers on your clit and his rapid thrusts making the well in the bottom of your stomach come apart, tears of pleasure slipping your eyes, the feeling of his seed painting your walls making you clench against him amidst your own orgasm.

You barely feel the arms cradling your body, carrying you to set you down on the table. You furrow your brows as Toji strips himself of his shirt, and your eyes widen at the thought of him ravishing you once more so soon. Instead, you shudder as he swipes it against your sex, cleaning up his mess. 

The way you beam at him, even in your exhausted state, is honestly worth the ruined shirt- he finds himself thinking as he moves to pick up your dress from the ground. He clicks his tongue as he realises just how much of shreds he had ripped it into in his feral daze. He’s lifting his head to meet your eyes, wondering how he’ll tell you that you have to find a way to get back to your chambers in this state- 

“Oh-”

Your saccharine voice is pulling Toji out of his thoughts, surprise forming across his face as you burst into laughter at the sight of what he’s sure has cost twice as much as all the clothes he’d ever owned combined. 

“How well do you think I’d fare going out in one of the potato sacks?” 

How could he have not smiled right back at you. 

𝘿𝙤𝙡𝙤𝙨- 𝙩𝙧𝙞𝙘𝙠𝙚𝙧𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙪𝙞𝙡𝙚

Toji had never wanted to rip his own heart out so badly before, inject his blood with ambrosia so that he could be worthy enough for the goddess that was ready to abandon her sanctity- her piece of heaven- for him. He had always known how it would end- in an empty heath of a fire gone out long ago, the only thing keeping it burning now regret and sorrow.

 Love could not have sustained you when there was barely enough space to breathe, when there was barely enough food for your kids to live off of. Once the love faded, all that’d remain would be your wish to go back to the past, getting drunk on forgetfulness so that you can survive within the stone cold walls of a house- not a home.

Once again, Toji knew what he had to do- knew he willingly stepped into this hoping to ruin what was supposed to be the prize of his own blood- in order to humiliate them and fulfill his revenge.

He also knew he was the ruined one now as thoughts of you plagued his mind day and night- how his tactful game of cat and mouse had turned into sweet kisses and hushed giggles, and how all he wanted was to find a pit stop in time where his blood did not matter, where the sins of his past did not matter. But despite it all, he knew he couldn’t have dragged you into his own hell, even if you begged him to take you.

He sighs. 

You had recited the exact conversation you had with your mother- laid yourself bare before him as you poured out your heart- letting him know that it’d be worth tasting the 7 seeds of evil even if it meant living in hell for half your life. 

He had thrown his head back and laughed. 

“You really thought our little getaways meant anything more than a fling to me? More than just a decent fuck?”

You stood still, mouth agape at the words that had slipped past his lips, a hand fisting the fabric of his shirt right above his heart, desperately searching for the pulse of the man you’d grown to adore over the past few weeks. 

He had looked down at you, the scar you had so tenderly ran your fingers over twitching upwards- in amusement- in laughter, face contorting into one of resentment- of revulsion before he had suddenly stilled. 

“Did you forget your place princess? Pretty little head got too lost in a fool’s paradise- did you forget you are one of them- always have been one of them.”

He had spat the last words at you and you wanted to shake your head, wanted to tell him he was utterly wrong, but all you could do was clutch on even tighter to him.

He had put his hand over yours and you had almost begged for him to tell you that this was a sick joke- almost pleaded for him to intertwine his calloused warm hands with yours as he always did- as he had when he made you scream his name, instead you had found yourself gasping at the icy touch as he flicked away your wrist, brows furrowing in repulsion at the contact- at you.

The tears that had slipped through your eyes had only worked to make him throw his head back like a giddy child once more. He had looked up at the sky as if he was mocking the gods in Olympus - look at how I’ve so beautifully wrecked what you created,

while you had stood there looking up at him as if he was your religion, mouthing,

this is not a joke, love me, love me.

𝙊ï𝙯ú𝙨- 𝙢𝙞𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙮, 𝙖𝙣𝙭𝙞𝙚𝙩𝙮 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙛

You felt raw. But you did not fight the black hole opening up in your chest. You let it settle into your bones, nurtured the hollowness- ignited it until you felt it turn into flames instead.

You couldn’t have let the ice creep into your heart- it would mean giving up the tears, giving up the feeling of wanting to be swallowed whole by the ground beneath, and that would mean you no longer felt- no longer harboured the only thing that made you feel alive in the cage of bones and flesh your troubled mind resided in. 

There was a heavy pain in between the arch of your shoulder blades- like your wings had been clipped and your halo ripped away.

You ignored the scowl that rose to her face, the way she flinched as you leaned over to rest your head in her lap. You couldn’t tell if the wetness on your cheeks was yours or hers- mourning the daughter she was going to lose. You felt your mother’s burning gaze through the back of your head all throughout the journey back home- could already feel the wrath of your father and the nasty bruises that were to come as her hand came down to rest on your head. 

You instead found yourself being locked away immediately- not a single word from anyone. The only time your door opened was for a maid to serve you your half portioned meals. Not like you had an appetite or a will to do anything else. 

Days passed by, perhaps weeks or months, and you counted the scattered marks on the wall beside your bed like you had done once with the freckles across his back, and you waited-  for what? You weren’t quite sure yourself. You waited and waited until the day your door opened, but it wasn’t the regular pitter patter of steps of the maid who served the food.

Instead, your eyes met the raging ones of the head of your clan, and for the first time in days, an icy shiver creeped up your spine.

----

The torment you’re put through is much worse than expected. You were well aware you were to be disgraced, to be stripped of your title, but somehow the gaze of your own friends and family avoiding your beaten bloody form and ignoring your whimpers and cries of agony was what had stung the most. 

The world seemed to be upside down, fading in and out of hues of colour and greys and blinding lights. You could barely feel the blood dripping down the back of your head and into your shirt as your gaze managed to remain focused on the window outside of the rattling carriage you lay in, panic rising in your chest as you recognised the familiar scenery. 

You fought your hardest to stay awake, but you lost to the increasingly heavy pressure against your head, hoping your blood would run dry before you had to face the hell you were being thrown into. As your head lolled to the side, you wondered if satiating the hunger within you was worth the price you were paying- if this was what happened to every soul that had brought the god of the dead to his knees, wondered if you were the first to do so- wondered if you’d be the last. 

𝙃𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙨- 𝙠𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙪𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙙, 𝙜𝙤𝙙 𝙤𝙛 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙧𝙚𝙩

Toji had left the clan- made a living of his own by doing what he did best, by doing what he was made to- destroying and causing wreckage till there was no piece of his soul left to be salvaged. 

He had avoided news about you like the plague, and had still ended up finding out that you were locked away back at your home from the gossiping servants. He had chuckled bitterly, what had he been expecting? He was right after all, you'd never have to face any consequences in life, and soon this whole scandal would be swept under the rug and you would be well on your way to marrying another wealthy brat, having filthy little kids with him who’d have the same luxuries in life and-

Toji found his heart dropping, the axe along with the freshly chopped wood he carried thumping down against the forest floor as he reached the entrance of the wooden cabin he had taken residence in. He saw the pool of blood first- the familiar mop of hair later.

No-

He must be hallucinating- 

But he still found himself moving out of his own accord, gathering the crumpled figure into his arms, feeling a thick fluid drip down his skin- stain through his shirt as he tried to pick you up. A chill ran down his spine as he realised what those savages had done for your body to resist even in an unconscious state- 

And that’s when his eyes slid to the nails in the ground, the sharp metal going right through the flesh of your fingertips, a note pinned to your abdomen in between your shredded dirtied clothes-

“We don’t want the gross wreckage of your perverse ruination. Keep the whore since you wanted her so much.” 

A sea of rage rose in the back of Toji’s mind but it stilled, the vicerating waves crashing against the shore that was the barely noticeable action of your chest heaving. He held back what was a choked sob, mind barely sane as he took out the nails as gently as possible- a man so familiar with death yet utterly horrified by it as he counted your laboured breaths, thanked every deity out in the universe for every huff of air that he could feel against his chest as he carried you inside. 

—

How do you kill a god? 

You had asked him once. He had raised his brow, ruffling your hair before pushing you down onto the bed once more, intent on at least letting you know how you got to heaven. 

How do you kill a god?

It now echoed in his mind as he watched your broken body lay on his bed, having done everything he could have to fix you up even though he feared there would be wounds more than just the physical ones when you gained consciousness- if you gained consciousness.

How do you kill a god? 

Pit him against another god. Let him stare at his own reflection and see all his glorious flaws until he’s falling to his knees, begging for the taste of ichor to be washed out from his mouth, begging to be stripped of his damned divinity- because the curse of immortality is a heavier burden to carry than the curse of mundane suffering- because it’s easier to drown in a sea full of blood than live with it staining your hands.

𝘼𝙥𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙙𝙞𝙩𝙚- 𝙡𝙤𝙫𝙚, 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙪𝙧𝙚 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙥𝙖𝙨𝙨𝙞𝙤𝙣.

“How do you kill a god?” You had asked him once.

Afterwards, you had lain awake late into the night as he had given you a taste of his own holiness, bare in his arms as he had muttered the words into your hair, barely a whisper as they escaped past his bleeding lips, 

How do you become a god?

The burning light attacked your eyes and you flinched loud enough for your own ears to ring, and then flinched even harder as the hot searing pain spread through your body, especially across the tips of your bandage covered fingers. You tried to use your voice but your throat was like a desert and your own harsh whisper scraped against your sensitive ears.

All you could do was stare up at the unfamiliar ceiling, lying numb, waiting for your saviour- or perhaps your torturer to come.

All had gone still once the door opened, your gaze falling onto the familiar hands that carried a bowl of water and about a dozen different small bottles in a basket. You stared through him, through his wide blown eyes and through the sigh of relief that left his mouth as he rushed towards you. 

How do you become a god?

There was much more you had wanted to tell your mother. You had told her you were sick of pretending, sick of being the goddess of spring when everything you touched died in your hands- how every beam of light you emitted was a stolen one from another soul. Perhaps, you had always craved pomegranates and death - had always willingly walked into the darkness with a smile and open arms.

How do you become a god?

You let him plead and writhe to have a taste of your lips - make him believe it is his only salvation. And right when his lips meet yours, you dig your teeth in deep and not let go, even as his fingers grip the column of your throat and his growls rumble inside your mouth. You let the trail of crimson coat your tongue and feel his tears burn your flesh- you make him taste your blood and take his throne. 

—

He says your name like it’s a prayer and you want to rip out his heart.

Instead, you turn your head towards the wall opposite to where he stands, clenching your eyes shut, hoping the next time you wake up it won’t be here. 

Still, you can hear his voice. Every single day of every waking moment- even as you sleep- even as you wake up in cold sweat haunted by the bittersweet melody of his laughter the day he crushed your heart in two, or the time your own blood nailed you down into the earth. 

But most of all, you hate it when you can hear the gruffness of his voice, still heavy from sleep as you let him cradle your head, shushing you- letting you know it was just a nightmare- but it was a nightmare you had lived through- a nightmare he had put you through. 

Not that he didn’t acknowledge it equally as much. It was odd- almost laughable the way he was so desperate to bring even just a flicker of the light back inside your eyes, breaking free from his stoic and tight lipped demeanour to whisper grossly sweet nothings into your hair.

He had explained his regrets the first few days that you had refused to even look at him, simply staring at the wall as he stripped you of your clothes to redo your bandages, not even the barest of reaction visible across your face. He had caused this. 

The first words you had muttered to him weren’t of hatred or anger or sadness- they were said into the heavy air, late into the hours before dusk at a point in time where your bones still couldn't support the burden of your body, 

“I need to pee.” 

You had said it through gritted teeth, had scowled throughout the process of him picking you up and carrying you into the bathroom, giving you privacy to do your business. 

The second time you had spoken to him was right after and it had somehow dented itself much deeper than he had expected it to, even as it was all he had been preparing himself for in the past few days, 

“I hate you.”

You had said it with no anger, no poison in your words- had simply stated it like it was a mere fact. 

“I know.”

—

It was weeks later and you seemed to have fallen into a strange routine.

He’d go out to do his filthy work, come back bathed in blood and dirt, even as he washed himself off outside thinking he was sly with it. You’d pretend not to notice as you’d cook for yourself, sometimes leaving bits behind as leftovers even if you had purposely spilled the extra bit of rice- had regretted it as soon as you had realised you had done it because he hadn’t had dinner in three days.

Perhaps it was the irony of the situation, and maybe even the cold winter air creeping into your bones that let him move from simply holding you when you woke from your nightmares- to him warming your bed at night even when you dreamed of nothing but the scar beside his lip. 

Still, you let him know you despised him every night that he pulled your body against his chest and every morning that he rubbed his warm hands up and down your arms. Even as you felt yourself leaning into his touch, felt your heart softening at how he’d mutter apologies into your hair while he thought you were asleep, how he’d pay attention to the foods you took more of and made sure to get twice the amount next time, how he’d shred his own shirts to provide you with cloth for when you got your monthly cycles. Yet, you couldn’t find any other words to say to him. 

𝙋𝙚𝙧𝙨𝙚𝙥𝙝𝙤𝙣𝙚- 𝙌𝙪𝙚𝙚𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙐𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙡𝙙 𝙂𝙤𝙙𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙨𝙥𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙛𝙡𝙤𝙬𝙚𝙧𝙨, 𝙙𝙚𝙖𝙩𝙝, 𝙡𝙞𝙛𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙙𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣

You had woken up alone as you did on most mornings, grateful that you wouldn’t have to face the shame that came with having your limbs tangled with him. The day was like any other yet different, perhaps it was the monotonous dread of living a life such as this- of having to live at all after being stripped of everything you had called yours.

You had somehow ended up taking steps outside of the wooden door, outside of the small garden the burly man used to grow his own vegetables, and even farther outside the vines and shrubs that kept the cabin hidden from any unwanted visitors.

You had walked and walked till your feet carried you to the edge of the world, a never ending fall down below from where you stared at, the sound of water flowing signalling the presence of a river running deep under the steep cliff.

You had stopped walking, the silence of the forest being the only noise to have outdone the heavy emptiness in your heart in months. And you simply continued to stand there, bare feet digging into the dirt and grass and stone, barely realising when the light faded away and darkness took over. Hadn’t it always been like this? 

It had taken no more than two rounds of the house and the trail of footsteps in the garden out back for Toji to realise you had left. His heart had dropped into his chest as he had followed the dents of your feet in the ground, careful not to step on them as his mind bitterly reminded him that it may be the last of what’s left of you by now.

He knew where the trail you had walked along led- had himself sat on the edge of it once, legs dangling off as he his mind had replayed the memory of your glossy eyes and crestfallen face when he had hit you with those fatal words months ago. Toji’s breath hitches in his throat, hands shaking as he pulls away the last branch blocking the view of the edge of the cliff. 

His feet are moving faster than his mind can think as he all but falls onto his knees, clutching your abdomen as if you’d disappear forever if he let you go now. You turn around in his arms, a look of confusion on your face, your eyes still as hollow as a void but all he cares about right now is the steady thumping he can feel with his chest pressed to yours. He’s clenching his eyes shut, taking a deep breath before he’s sliding his hand into yours. You don’t protest- letting him lead you back into the warm safety of his house and he’s too relieved to consider whether your lack of resistance is a good thing or not. 

You’re sitting on the edge of the bed and you can hear him ruffling through something in the bathroom, door ajar, eyes glancing towards you every two seconds as if he’s expecting you to bolt out the door any second now. For once, you don’t want to stare at the wall as he walks towards you, getting down on his knees- making a blow of nostalgia hit you right in the gut. But your eyes remain fixed at the top of his head, at the dark locks that had grown out much more since the last time you had let yourself gaze at him. 

You only realise what he’s been doing as you notice the bowl of water kept on the floor, hands gently lifting up your dirty feet, cleaning them of the mud and the blood from small scrapes. He’s lifting up your legs onto the bed once he’s done, adjusting your pillow as a gesture for you to lay down. He’s blowing out the lamps and soon enough you feel the mattress dip, his arms engulfing you tighter than ever before. You can feel the slight tremble in them and you feel guilty for the small pinch in your chest. You wait for his breathing to steady, head to fall limp into the crook of your neck before you roll over towards him in the dark, eyes set on the small crinkle between his forehead and brow. 

The warm hand that cups Toji’s cheek has him convinced that he may have lost his mind. Opening his eyes, he knows for sure that you have. Especially as you slide your other hand into his, pulling it till it’s placed onto the crest between your collarbone and chest, adjusting it a little more towards the left. Toji’s staring intently at you, wondering if this is your way of telling him that you’re still alive- that even though you’ve been cursed and damned to living in this hell, your heart still beats- it still fights. 

Toji bares his own emotions through a gesture- pulling the small hand that holds his to the apex between his upper ribs- pressing it till your fingers feel like they might just pass through his flesh. He hopes you know that if he could, he’d snap each one of his ribs open so that you can reach inside and press the palm of your hand against his beating heart, rip it right out of his body and spit inside the hollow space of his ribs with contempt- even then he’d survive on your hatred alone if it means surviving with you for the rest of his life. 

“I don’t hate you.”

The words are whispered in the dead of the night with no emotion, no trace of forgiveness or affection- simply stated as if they are common knowledge.

The soft lips coming down on his own have his mind spinning. He realises what it is you wish for- to be able to live once again as a human, to feel once again as a mortal- he can almost almost hear you saying the words into his mouth as your fist bunches up the fabric of his shirt. 

“I’m tired of being a god.” 

He can feel his own sentiment being passed right through as his hands slide under the cloth of his shirt that you wore, exploring the expanse of your reverenced skin, mouthing his response against your cupid’s bow.

“I’ll worship you even after you fall from grace.” 

And he does, pulling himself up on arms above you, dipping his fingers into your soaking sex, making quick work of ridding you and himself of your clothes. He’s tucking your legs against your chest, feet dangling over his broad shoulders as he comes forward to meet your lips. He’s pulling away and you’re mewling at the loss of contact- the loss of his taste. 

“Do you want this? Do you want-” He takes a deep breath, forehead coming forward to press against yours till your noses brush against each other, “...me?”

Your response comes in the form of sliding your hands to the back of his head, pulling him forward till his lips crash against yours once more- bucking your hips up till the tip of his massive girth is brushing against your heat. He doesn’t miss the moan that escapes you, eagerly kissing you back, moving to litter a plethora of kisses against your jaw- your neck- your collarbone. When he comes back up to your face, he’s well aware of the effect he’s had on you- the want in your eyes as you lift your hips against his once more, a small plea leaving your mouth. 

The need that comes over him is animalistic as he moves a hand down to position himself before sliding into your soppy hole, he swears he can see stars with how hungrily you swallow him in. You’re gripping his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he strokes your insides so languidly. Your faces are close enough for you to feel his breath on your mouth, to feel the fall of the hot droplets on your cheeks, your own tears of grief- of freedom- of a love gone to waste so long ago combining as he continues to thrust in and out of you deeply. 

He’s dipping his head and the tears are being kissed away as his hand moves down to play with your over sensitive bud. You can't stop peppering kisses against his lips, moaning his name in his ear as he hits a particular spot inside you. He can feel you getting closer with how your breaths get deeper, fingers moving faster, strokes getting sloppier. 

You feel the tight coil in your stomach start to unravel, and all it takes is for him to lower his head and suction his lips around one of your nipples for you to come apart underneath him. He’s reaching his own arousal soon after, pulling out to spray his seed onto your stomach. He all but collapses on top of you, rolling over to his side once he catches his breath, another hitching in his throat as he finds you crawling onto his lap, legs straddling his waist as you bury your face into his naked chest. 

This is what being a god feels like. The taste of wine coating your tongue and the way his lips meld with yours- swallow you whole and then spit you out. You reach for him again in the dark, his chest panting against yours as the moonlight cascading from the window hits his face. You rest your chin against the centre of his chest, looking up at him with droopy eyes, his own stare right back at you- filled with tenderness and affection. 

“No one will ever hurt you again, I promise.” 

His voice is gruff and heavy, but carries a sincerity warm enough to send tingles down your back. You can’t quite place the look on his face, it's determined- pointed. You can feel the unravelling of the violence beneath his skin as his hand comes to cradle your jaw, and you wonder just what kind of monsters the god of the underworld plans to unleash.

His hand moves to caress the back of your head, adoration-filled eyes raking over your still panting figure. He presses his lips to your temple and says your name like a prayer. It all floods in- the pain- the love- the sorrow- the joy- you’re sobbing and he’s holding you like he has time and again. Only this time, he finds himself awestruck by the spark of ember that comes alive in your eyes, even if just for a second, he knows you’re going to be fine. 

-

The god of the dead had bowed before you, offered you his crown, his throne- would have ripped off the flesh from his own back and handed it to you without any hesitation if only you asked. 

You were the goddess of spring and everyone had loved your life and light, but who except him had acknowledged the death and destruction that came along- had reached out their hands into the rotten parts of your flesh and kissed every bruise and scar?

This was Toji Fushiguro’s life now, coming back home to his precious darling each day- the only burst of spring in his everlasting winter, the only ray of light in his world swallowed by darkness.

Tonight, as you lay on him bare-bodied and covered in sweat from your previous feat, he finds you asking him about the season, about how far the harvest festival was. He’s confused at your sudden curiosity but answers you nonetheless, telling you it’s in a fortnight. He finds himself asking why. 

“Every single member of our blood attends the festival- they had waited for it while they kept me away.” 

It’s the first time you’re talking about the incident and he can feel you quiver in his arms. It makes his blood boil, and he finds himself protectively pulling you even closer into him. 

“...they had wanted each and every single one of them to get a chance to cut through my skin.” 

That’s all you say before falling asleep, the tears on Toji’s chest making a storm of anger rage inside his mind. 

--

It’s a fortnight later and Toji watches the red and orange hues of the flames making your face glow brighter than the sun. 

You’re standing there hand-in-hand with him, looking over the half wrecked ruins of the village, the screams of the people you had grown up with- who had taken no less than a second to turn their backs on you- who had left you to die- now echoing in your ears. Right on the edge of the hilltop you stand on, you see a small figure running towards the slope, clothes burnt, high pitched sobs filling the air as it succumbs to the heat that had spread through it’s bones.  

She must’ve been eight or nine years old judging from her size and half burnt frills of the frock she wore. You know she’s at peace, much like the many others who would’ve faced nothing but agonising hardships being raised in the hands of your cruel persecutors- all of whom lay as nothing but bones and ash and dust now. 

Toji’s worried that he’ll find the same emptiness he’s spent months breaking through as he glances over at your face. Instead, there’s a fire being reflected in your eyes, a sadistically deliciously smile stretched across your supple cheeks. He finds his own lips curving as he grips your jaw to turn your head and press his lips to yours, the screams and shouts of your monsters merely anything but white noise as your fingers come to tangle in his hair. 

After all, Hades may have been the god of the dead, but it was Persephone’s wrath which brought upon the destruction.

© suna-reversed — all rights reserved. please refrain from modifying, translating, reposting of any kind. plagiarism will NOT be tolerated.

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[ezlebe]

If you're still taking prompts: Tom meets Greg's ex-boyfriend/crush, who Greg is still not completely over yet

“Your usual?”

“Sure,” Tom says, then bends slightly to peer into the little display case with a brief pinch of his mouth. “Yeah. Greg’ll have a – do you have one of those – yeah, the big sandwich cookie. Whoopie pie. And a whatever latte with the syrups. Do a floral one.”

“Sure,” Beni says, turning a cup around in their hand with a glance over a pair of rosy frames. “You’re really trying to hurt his feelings.”

“Hey,” Tom says, as he points with a wag of his thumb over a shoulder. “If he ditches me to talk, he gets flower coffee.”

Beni glances across the café with a dubious look. “He doesn’t look too happy about that, either?”

Tom frowns slightly, then follows his own hand to look over his shoulder.

It appears true enough, actually: Greg almost looks like he’s vibrating out of his skin, shrugging or nodding at quick intervals, and visibly unable to get a word in with the way the other guy is yakking at him. The guy is dressed in some kind of polo and a pair of slacks, dark blond hair swept back over his head in some take on a modern yuppie, so he fits in all right, but he’s not particularly familiar.

“Oh, fine,” Tom says, as he drops his hand to his side with a pair of taps at the edge of his pocket. “Put in way too much of that real caramel syrup.”

“Can do,” Beni says, setting the cup to the side and jerking their head toward the spectacle near the big window. “I’ll have Hana do that while you…?”

Tom narrows his eyes for a beat, briefly staring Beni down, then throws up a hand while he turns to follow orders. “I’m going back to fucking Starbucks starting tomorrow.”

Greg is shaking his head hard when Tom gets in hearing range, voice weakly breaking through the dull roar of the busy café. “ – star, actually. I’m a – a junior exec.”

The guy he’s speaking to outright scoffs for some reason. “I was wondering what the costume here was about.”

“It’s a Manolo Costa,” Tom interjects, somewhat incredulous, and a bit offended on the behalf of his wallet, the tailor, and Greg.

The guy turns his head to peer at Tom, a brow going up while his eyes sweep him up and down. The once over doesn’t seem to help his opinion, as he still looks baffled – and curiously appalled, going by the curl at his lip – at the interruption.

“He’s – uh, he’s who does the suits,” Greg says, a pinched smile building across his markedly rosy-tinted face. “He’s really nice.”

“…Sure.” The guy says, briefly peeking at Greg, then resuming that hard stare on Tom. “You know Greg?”

“I know Greg,” Tom says, then lifts his chin a bit, just to look down his nose a bit easier. “Do you?”

“Oh, yeah,” Greg mumbles, briefly straightening his shoulders and looking over at Tom with a gesture at the guy. “This is –”

“Martyn,” the guy says, with a curt, flat snap of both syllables to talk right over Greg. “Got to say, I was kind of shocked to see Greg out here. On Wall Street, of all places.”

“Why?” Tom says, lifting his voice some and doing his slowest blink with a small tilt of his head.

Greg looks away from the window behind his evident old chum to blink at Tom.

“He wasn’t exactly the type when I knew him,” Martyn says, a pointed sort of conceit flashing across his face in a brief twitch of his mouth.

Greg presses his lips tight with a wince into himself, nervously wrapping a hand around his murse. He glances back away from Tom, then, color bleeding plain across the tips of his ears, and this is veering toward enough in real quick time.

“It takes all kinds here,” Tom says, hearing his voice emerge in a tone he privately considers to be stolen straight from overhearing his mother cheerily litigate corporate tax, and is a little startled by its presence here in the café. It’s apparent that Greg thinks so, too, as he looks swiftly back over at Tom. “He’s a more competent colleague than any of the rest of the clowns.”

Ish. Tom’s maybe biased, and maybe Darla or Guido, or a lot of people, are better to work with, in terms of a time management to productivity ratio, but he prefers Greg. It’s not like judgy bastard of the year here actually knows any particulars.

Martyn glances dubiously to Greg, then back to Tom. “He’s really a colleague?”

“Greg!” Hana shrieks from the counter, confirming that baristas think Tom is floundering over here rescuing their favorite over-tipper.

Greg blinks rapidly and looks over his shoulder, as multiple polite impulses war with each other in twitches across his face. “Sorry, I - I’ll go get that? I guess?”

“I’m Tom, by the way,” Tom says, holding out a hand for Martyn to take, which he does, but only limply and with a doubtful glance down at it. “So, I take it you’re from the Great White North, eh? You know Greg from up that way?”

“Not really. Just a roommate’s friend that just up and disappeared,” Martyn says, mouth pinching into a bad imitation of a polite smile, so he’s probably not any kind of salesman or customer service type, or, at least, not a good one. “…Total stoner.”

“He does enjoy the odd toke,” Tom says, offering a more convincingly breezy grin.

Martyn stares harder, as he takes a tense sip of his coffee. “Yeah.”

Greg reappears with both cups in one hand and a pastry bag in the other. “Yours,” he says, turning the cup to show the label, because they’ve had one too many instances of Tom about forming cavities at simple sips of Greg’s drink, then tries to hand Tom the sandwich cookie. “And, uh – ”

“That’s yours, bud,” Tom says, pulling the coffee closer to himself while pointing with his fingers around the cup at the bag. “Look inside?”

“Oh,” Greg says, glancing down and using a pair of fingers to peek into the bag. “Thanks.” He breaks it apart between his fingers in typical fashion, inspecting between the soft cookies with a keen eye. “Do you want some?”

“Just a nip,” Tom says, pretending to be put upon, then taking the portion and squeezing a bit of the filling out with a sharp raise of his brows. “Oh, apple.”

Greg mumbles through his particular bite. “Yeah, it’s… uh, like really nice with the caramel.”

“That’s good,” Tom says, as he feels a smile curve across his face, which grows wider when Greg looks away in some evident play at coyness.

“Sorry, you work together?” Martyn interrupts, with marked disbelief, hands shifting around his coffee cup and a narrow-eyed gaze darting between Tom and Greg. “Uh-huh. What does a junior exec do, Greg?”

“At the moment? I – I, sort of… manage the conversion of departmental media exchange from a physical method into a digital one.”

A fancy Greg phrase for aggressively polites and bamboozles old hats who don’t want to give up their tapes from the late Nineties to be digitized and put in nebulous clouds. He’s like a bruiser for dragging idiots into the digital age and making them redundant, and, frankly… Tom understands about twelve percent of it, but he does enjoy hearing the highlights and doing the firing when Greg gives him the green light.

The convoluted over-explanation seems to work on the dubious Martyn, who blinks rapidly, coming up short on rebuttal. “Wait, you – sorry, how did you get hired to do that?”

“Um,” Greg glances evasively, again, clearly put out in a way that might end with Tom’s hands and Martyn covered in coffee. “Like, you know, my uncle like is – was, I guess – ”

“That was true?” Martyn interrupts, eyes going wide, then exhaling a puff of a derisive laugh.

“And he’s been a real asset,” Tom interjects, forcing a cheery smile while taking a sip from his cup. He raises his brows with a short lean forward on his toes and an interested tilt of his head. “What do you do, Mister Martyn?”

“I’m in surgical residency,” Martyn says, getting a bit stiff, and markedly lifting his chin with a pointed sort of glance at Greg. It’s plainly some request to get Tom to leave them alone, which if Greg knew how to do, this encounter would not even have happened to them.

“Oh, interesting,” Tom says, turning a hand to gesture at the café and the city beyond it, narrowly missing the shoulder of a more conventional patron sitting at a table. “In New York?”

“Kitchener,” Martyn says, tightly, glancing back to Tom with another pressed smile. “I’m only here with some friends.”

“Greg’s friends?” Tom asks, lifting his voice in interest, only regretting it some when he feels Greg go stiff next to him.

“No, they’re – ” Martyn says, peeking to Greg with a look that isn’t really at him now, so much as right through him. “Just my friends.”

“Oh, too bad,” Tom says, offering a disappointed sigh and gesturing with a coffee cup, feeling a prickle of temper effecting some of the posture, and he becomes aware that a few people at the tables they’re standing between have started to eavesdrop. “We could’ve shown you all about the town like a real group of Chelsea Girls; gotten you in those back alleys of the gritty city.”

Martyn frowns further, shifting his feet square on the floor; good, he’s picked up on the tone, if maybe not the reason for it.

“I don’t know that would interest you, though – you don’t seem the type,” Tom amends, tilting his head and pointedly glancing up and down Martyn’s purse-mouthed offense. He wags his coffee bit, pretending to look over to Greg for his opinion, “Stick out like a sore thumb with everyone who knows how to have fun, right? Too bad.” He looks back to Martyn, shoving his hand in his pocket while leaning forward with a sprightly shrug. “Maybe after you get into all that coke I hear surgeons love. I might know a guy, if you need one.”

Greg coughs somewhat and turns away entirely, stuffing more cookie into his mouth.

Martyn stares openly at Tom, eyes widening, then looks past his shoulder at the center of the café. “No, thank you.”

“What’s the time?” Tom says, feigning urgency and looking over at Greg with a nudge at his elbow.

“Uh, oh – ” Greg lifts his hand by some rote and shows off the shiny blue face of his watch.

“Near about 11, huh. We better get going,” Tom says, leaning back and tipping his coffee at Martyn with a short nod. “Good to meet you, Martyn. It’s so rare to meet such a stunning conversationalist.”

Martyn blinks rapidly and glances around at the people watching them, face turned irked and ruddy, and looks up at Greg. He opens his mouth, then closes it, taking a harsh breath in through his nose. “Sure.”

Tom reaches out, as they pass a trash can, taking the empty pastry bag from Greg’s lax hand to throw it away. He pulls out his phone, sparing the excuse to look back, and catches Martyn already rapidly texting on his own phone to someone that could very well be one of Greg’s old fairweather friends.

“That was like so weird,” Greg hisses, at the exact moment that Tom’s heel touches the sidewalk.

Tom keeps his eyes on his phone, as he texts the driver that they’re ready to be whisked uptown to some miserable little afternoon meeting. “A bit of serendipity in a coffee shop? I’ve heard it’s practically trite.”

“The Fake Tom?” Greg says, hands gesturing back and forth in front of him, and a bead of coffee escapes the sip at the top to spill out across his thumb against the lid. “That was li-like the fakest I’ve ever seen Fake Tom.”

“I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear or understand that,” Tom says, flatly, rolling his eyes, then pulling at the edge of his sleeve to reaching out and wipe across Greg’s hand. “Who the fuck was that, anyway?”

Greg collapses into himself with look down at his coffee and a shrug. “Like, a – a guy I knew.”

“Really?” Tom says, feigning surprise, throwing a hand out toward the café across the street and behind him in a gesture that somewhat on purpose thwacks Greg on the elbow on its way back. “I thought maybe he just stalked you all the way here from the icy Province de L’Ontario.”

Greg sighs through his nose and looks down at his coffee.

Tom flicks at the top of Greg’s knuckles, then turns to start walking down the sidewalk. “So?”

“He was a – uh, a…” Greg fumbles with the usual aplomb regarding his life pre-Waystar. “Like he said, you know, he was one of my friend’s roommates.”

“And?” Tom prompts, because the way Greg had acted and the bizarre ease that Martyn had in genuinely putting him down seemed a lot more personal.

“Remember, like, I mentioned that guy a while ago… with the hoodie an-and like how people didn’t steal – ”

“Ah,” Tom interrupts, inhaling a deep breath, then exhaling it for a lengthy pair of seconds. “Mister Med School from London.”

Greg tightens his mouth flat. “Yeah.”

“That scans. He’s even less charming than I imagined, somehow,” Tom says, though he’s done his best not to imagine him at all, aside for smaller than Greg, which is something like most of the planet. “And circling back, again, you can just say ex-boyfriend.”

“Oh, no, he wasn’t like… super into me – o-or, I mean, we weren’t each other or anything,” Greg says, shaking his head hard while expanding the gesture with a turn of the coffee in front of him. “Friend of a friend. It wasn’t a – like, a public thing? He like got mad once when I said hi to him at a party.”

Tom presses his tongue hard against his teeth. It’s not a particularly convincing brush-off, and while Tom doesn’t want Greg into that guy, or any guy, he also doesn’t like hearing about him not into Greg while Greg was into him, and… It’s a weird fucking feeling. “He sounds like a real charmer, Greg.”

“Well, no, he was –” Greg rolls his lips between his teeth. “If it’s not too uncouth, like a really good time. Sexually. So.”

“Uh-huh,” Tom says, taking the usual beat he needs to shove all thoughts of Greg and sex firmly into the particular corner of his brain where they belong. He doesn’t hate that Greg has been a lot more open about his past since he came out to him, but he severely dislikes it to the point of wanting to scoop out some of the thoughts with a rusty spoon. “I’m only exposing myself once here: that’s worse than Shiv, Greg. We say hi and we’ll be official divorcès in a month. A ‘hi’ is like the lowest bar in a human connection, as in, even Logan let’s you say hi, Greg.”

Greg distinctly bites at his lower lip.

Tom wrestles with a furious squirm underneath his ribs. “You still into him, there, Greg?”

“I mean…” Greg shrugs into himself, looking down at the sidewalk at their oxfords clacking against the cement. “I sorta was the idea? Before, like, today… But then I actually saw him, you know?”

“As in a series of rosy fantasies?” Tom says, warily, as ideas of Greghaving ideas barrels up against the edge of his mind.

“Not really?” Greg says, rolling his head back and forth in a denial that seems somehow frustrated. “Like: hey, he might be impressed. But he wasn’t.”

“Ah,” Tom intones, as he digs his tongue into the sharp edge of one of his teeth. He rolls his eyes, mostly at himself, because he can’t really handle ambiguity in this sort of shitty conversation, anymore; thanks, Shiv. “So you’ve not been pining after Mr Prick with the Americano, then?”

Greg shakes his head with a huff, reaching up and scratching at the side of his nose. They come to a stop at the usual place that they wait for the car, where he markedly tucks a bit closer than usual at Tom’s side. “I’ve got, you know, like something else lined up?”

“Lined up? Isn’t that modern.” Tom says, raising an exaggerated brow with a lean heavy on the foot closest to Greg, pressing them into each other his own way.

“Three weeks, six days,” Greg says, voice barely above an idle interest, and not even looking over, but it makes the back of Tom’s neck absolutely burn. “I was just like, really hung up on that guy, once? And now – uh, I know I’m not at all.”

Tom feels a grin curve at the corner of his mouth. “Not at all?”

Greg hums a low affirmative, tilting heavier into Tom’s shoulder. “And I know, like… he’d never tear down an office to kiss me.”

“That is not –” Tom chokes because he refuses to sputter, turning his head up to catch Greg blinking like a cat at him. “Do you think that’s what happened?”

The car rolls up, but Greg doesn’t move away, at first, just gives that smug, if weedy smile. “It like is what happened.”

“You are totally delusional.”