#no im sorry i can never ever abide by this

[greyhavensking]

just rewatched the season 4 finale of the magicians for the first time since it aired and, uh. wow. no, yeah, that is just as bad as I remember

[faeryarchives]

loved by the moon (riddle, leona, and azul x f!reader)

requested by @lydiacallas: Can i ask for a Moon Goddess like!Fem!Reader? Like they have magic linked to the moon, they have like- this ethereal, pure and calm vibe of the moon itself and their voice is calm too. Maybe their hair is a bit glow in the dark? With Malleus, Azul, Lilia, Riddle and Leona, please and thank you very much! 🥺✨ warning: minor spoilers to book 6 + somewhat long imagine note: reader uses she / they pronouns + is in the same grade as the boys !! this is very overdue im sorry 😣 and i based some characteristic and abilities to moonlight cookie and princess luna guilty as charged 😔 + malleus and lilia part will be in another post! recent fics: happy birthday (malleus x reader) & when your hopeless streamer gets a girlfriend (ace x reader) & its you, it always had been you

·˚ ༘ riddle rosehearts (2nd year ramshackle dorm leader)

"the decision of all professors and staffs of night raven college falls in favor for miss (name) (last name) to enroll here - exempting them from the all-boys rule. she will be in charge of the ramshackle dorm during her stay here."

riddle does not understand how on earth were you able to stay in the school and always hold yourself with such grace, he couldn't explain why your presence seems to be similar to vil like you were oozing of calm vibes

you were the total opposites - he is more accustomed to fire while you specialize in water magic*. he lose his rationality quickly while he had never see you even falter during the time you two were classmates + he always abides by the rules while you do what ever you want 

"you are not allowed to sleep in class!" "it's not sleeping, i am just resting my eyes..." "you must not pick flowers from the garden on wednesdays." "riddle, i am not under the queen of hearts rules."

and riddle actually holds a one sided grudge against you for that + makes it his mission always to remind you of the rules, going on about mini rants to which you nodded to while reading your books

typically, riddle would've mention something about the rule of the queen of hearts but he was strangely quiet. you see him looking down at his notebook, lost in his world. and that surprised you because never you would've thought you would know this side of him. "no rule trivia for today?" "...huh?" "there is something on your mind, no? why don't we talk about that instead our usual trivias."

as time passed by, you and riddle gradually close friends to the point that heartslabyul treats you like their saving grace whenever riddle goes on a rampage, even more when you became second years

when the first overblot happened, it was the first time he saw your face, usually so calm, crumbled like dust when the blot manifested into a large phantom

"hahaha! the law in this world is me! not even you, (name), can stop me!" "i'm not letting you go so easily, riddle. rules are meant to protect your people, but you don't realize you are using them to suffocate them. you even hurt my dorm mates, enough of this!"

riddle was sure you wouldn't speak to him again because you weren't there the moment he woke up. he tried asking trey and cater if you were avoiding him, but they could not answer him. the next few days, he didn't even get to talk to you.

then he found himself admiring nrc at night time, breaking his own rules, maybe it's okay to let is slide for now. as he needs some time to think

absentmindedly wandering around the school grounds, letting the cool breeze feel his skin, riddle had his hand brushing through the thick bushes until they got pricked by a stray thorn "ah-" he hissed, holding up his pricked finger. it was just a tiny injury that's nothing to worry about. the injury was nothing compared to what he saw next "riddle? what are you doing this here at this hour?"

riddle spotted you sitting under the tree where silver usually takes his naps, surrounded by bunnies as they piled around your lap.

after days of not seeing each other, riddle thought he was going crazy because the last time he saw you, he knew pretty sure that your eyes and hair do not have that silver glow - it was like you were the moon itself

"is it my fault that your eyes and hair changed?" "oh, this is awkward... " you look at the bunnies trying to hide behind you, being scared of riddle's sudden appearance, contemplating about something before sighing in defeat. "i think i owe you an explanation. but first, can you keep a secret?" this confused riddle very much. what do you mean explanation? did something happen while he was out? before he could even think of it, you were already in front of him - your point and middle finger placed on his forehead. 'the moon has come out to play, now bid your worries away.' a comfortable feeling of cold wrapped around riddle's body, feeling the fatigue from his overblotting disappear, the weight on his shoulder being gone and his pricked finger healed. while riddle stared at you in shock, you finally reveal your true appearance and float around him like a curious child. "would you believe me if i told you i am the descendant of the moon goddess?"

... oh. OH !!

prepare for him because this little goldfish right here is most likely a fan of reading books about your kind + cue the sparkling eyes

and oh my god are those butterflies he can feel in his stomach? or maybe he is just hungry but he only feel that way around you though. oh well !!

** okay so i think reader will be compatible with water magic because the moon has this gravitaional pull right which cause the high tides and low tides... and riddle is fire!

·˚ ༘ leona kingscholar (3rd year transfer student)

"kingscholar, think of this as your punishment for the spelldrive incident. i would gladly take miss (name) for a tour but alas, there are countless of papers that needs my attention."

leona knew that there is something like a cloak of mysteriousness around you the moment you appeared in the college mid-year as a transfer student from rsa

just you don't interfere with his plans and he will also stay out of yours but it turns out he was assigned by the crow to take you around

"... wow, do i look like a punishment worthy chore?" you sigh, shaking your head in disappointment before turning to leona and he could swear he could see your eyes glowing for a moment when you stare at him. "i take it that the dorm leader of savannaclaw will be my tour guide?" "just don't lag behind." giving you a shrug before he started walking ahead of you. despite his short descriptions and tour around the school, leona is thankful that you didn't seem to be a nosy type of person, just a little on the calm and reserve type than most people he knew.

doesn't understand how people seems to look starstruck whenever you walk by them i mean you are attractive yes but not being able to move? that's different

it also turns out you share most of your classes! maybe crowley was really punishing him for the incident as he was stuck with you, being your babysitter.

but you almost look like his babysitter + quickly became one of the most tolerable people in the school and he doesn't mind having you around

"leona? let me bother you for a moment, can you help me with this problem?" "oh that?" the lion lifted his head and stared at the paper you were holding before waving his hand in dismissal. "remember the activity we did as partners? that's the one." "..." you squinted your eyes and leona could see them literally glow in purple light causing him to blink several times if he was seeing it right but it disappeared quickly. "oh i get it now, thanks." "do your eyes really glow like that?" "huh? i don't know what you are talking about."

you were not the nagging type - letting him hide and snooze off behind you during class and surprisingly, you were fun to spar with during practical exams + too smart for your own good

he had never seen any kind of fighting similar to yours like your fighting style is only yours to begin with - not only you excel in defending, you never seem to get tired despite being a speedy defender.

you and the savanaclaw dorm leader spent the whole afternoon sparring with each other and by the time you notice it, the sun was already setting. "aren't you tired yet, leona?" "you better tell me how you manage to keep up with me all this time." you did say to keep up with you the first time we met." you twirl your spear around you before stabbing it on the ground, leaning on it and grinned at leona. "i'm just keeping my promise."

now leona was pretty sure you are not a normal transfer student + especially after fighting with you in the island of woe and it was pretty interesting how you unexpectedly exposed yourself in front him and jamil.

the moment you, who was assigned to be in the front of the group due to you having the most capable defensive powers, entered the room on the current sector, leona and jamil look at your back in surprise. "(name)-senpai?" "what's up, jamil?" "... is that a normal thing for you?" the room was oozing with the presence of phantoms everywhere and there was no source of light - aside from your hair locks that are now shining like a billowing night sky of twinkling stardust, borne in a void of black and fading in an indigo moonset "oh that's normal, we can just use it as source of light. save your magic for now." "no wonder your magic feels different from everyone else - you are a moon goddess, right?"

leona is not blind, he just need a solid evidence to confirm his gut feeling. unique magic spells + signature spear + glowing eyes and your hair locks literally looking like that?

while fighting along side each other, leona could literally leave his back open because heknew and trust that you always have his back and vice versa

"leona-senpai, watch out-" before jamil could jump in between the incoming attack and leona, you pulled the second year by his hood deflected the attack with your spear so effortlessly. "it's fine, moon fairy here got our backs." you hear leona said proudly before landing a critical hit on the phantom. "aren't you glad you're stuck with us?"

everyone in school knows how two of you would make an unbeatable duo when it comes to strategies and games

and not going to lie, leona thinks so too! you are strong, smart and everything above + treats you life his closest friend and respects you a lot but you do things sometimes that are not really necessary

"are you done yet?" he couldn't help but ask, his tail thumping on the floor with annoyance while you tried braiding some parts of his hair.

you peek over his should and smiled, trying to show him the small braid that you did on the side. "yeah, it's fun braiding your hair!" after your identity being revealed, you let yourself relax more around him - when you express happiness, your hair starts glowing as it did before and small crescent like moon thingy start appearing around you

... leona find that cute + now he understand why people become starstruck when it comes to you

**you know how moonlight cookie's hair color looks like? yeah that's the one!

·˚ ༘ azul ashengrotto (2nd year ramshackle vice dorm leader)

"did you hear about the rumors? recently, students are saying that when you go to the botanical garden at night and stand under the moonlight - all your questions will be answered!"

the fact that rumors like that exists made azul irritated because it means he got competition. and having competition in the thing he do best is not fun.

so he and the twins went to investigate - how and where the rumors first started and who are most likely to be involved in the case

surprisingly enough, it all leads to a certain ramshackle vice dorm leader aka you + azul already knew you due to being the same year and his 'rival'

he considers you as his rival because you two always seem to fight for the top 2 and 3 spot every exam but for you... i think he would be hurt if you say that you like to aim for the top spot because it's fun 🤩

it was during lunch time and you were planning to eat with yuu, grim and the others when all of a sudden, someone blocked your way out by leaning on the door. "(last name) can i ask a bit of your time? i would like to ask you regarding an important matter." the ever so charismatic azul asked, his usual charming smile on as if he wants to do business with you. "oh, hi azul. what is it about?" "how delightful! do you happen to know the rumor about your unanswered questions will be answered as you stand under the moonlight?" "there is a rumor like that? under the moonlight? why the specifics?" one thing that azul observed about you is that your emotion reflects on your eyes. call it his gut feel but just one look and he already knew you were telling the truth "a pity... it seems like i am back to square one." "... maybe i can go help you out? i am not that busy these upcoming days."

and so azul's little group grew in numbers consisting of him, you, yuu, grim and the twins. oddly enough, it was actually fun to hang out with you

azul never got to interact with you that much before and only knew information about your through papers and from what he heard from people but being with you right now exceeds his expectations

"if headmaster crowley is similar to crow... do you think he likes to hoard shiny things?" you suddenly whispered it to azul one day in class, your mind clearly wandering and not paying attention to what professor trein is writing on the board. "what is with the random thought?" what is we leave a trail of shiny things and create a trap, that would be really funny."

you were an oddball. sometimes you will joke around with him and trying to make him laugh during class. there are also times where he couldn't explain the calming feeling he had whenever you are around + he could never even feel any other intentions from your actions as if you genuinely want to become his friend

it took him a while to notice how you always seem to stand out and become the embodiment of grace and elegance - a confident yet modest person who knows what you want

you always help him out in solving the rumor mystery but there is something that made you look suspicious → you always go back to your dorm before sunset

it's not that he wants to take up all your time but the way you stand firm of not being able to join them during night time and saying how dangerous it is made him suspect you of something

so he went alone wearing his ceremonial robes (the twins are taking over his duties for a while i know very unbelievable but imagine) to investigate the botanical garden and there he saw you run inside - a trail of silver light following you behind

and when azul went inside to stand in the spot, trying to think of what to wish until he hears a familiar voice ringing in the building

"say your wish out loud and the moon will light its way to you." "well, now this is marvelous. can i see one guiding my wish for me?" azul looked up, trying to call out for you, even looking around to see signs of you. there was a moment of silence before he heard you sigh and in an instance, you appeared before him, avoiding his look. "i thought i told you to let it go?"

after finding out you were his competitor - he didn't really feel annoyed at all! rather he was intrigued on how you were able to do it ...? you help the students find the answers on their own in their dreams?!

seeing your hair glow in silver light in the dark reminds him of himself as some octopus also glow in the dark just like him!

"azul, do you know that i really admire you?" "me? what is there to admire about me? i do nknow i have a remarkable potential but compared to y-" "no, seriously. you don't need to compare yourself to me. having to do all these business related work AND studying at the same time? you should appreciate yourself more."

... do you want to make him cry on the spot? hearing such words makes him happy but hearing it from you aka one of the people he really admire and yes he admits he admire you as a rival - his emotions are going haywire.

even if he is smart, it will take time for azul to realize that his admiration is just growing stronger and stronger each day and bloom into something else

[beddybites]

Anymore thoughts on the baby gyomei au? Such a cute baby :(( Specifically how Kagaya acts with him? Or how he acts with any of the baby Aus. He just loves his children :(

anon im so sorry this took forever i was trying to put everyrhing to words… yes i have so many thoughts about gyomei!!

gyomei in the tiny 21 trio au [ #tiny 21 trio au ]

- father slash genuine

- he’s distant at first but the longer they’re little and the more they struggle he pitches in. his anxiety with being around children slowly disappears and suddenly hes got an extreme case of baby fever

- if the babies are all upset they are taken to gyomei and gyomei Always cheers them right up

- it gets to a point where the babies regularly ask for gyomei, though they refer to him as papa. insert them wailing and babbling begging to see their papa because its been a couple days and they miss him

- if the others cannot give the babies their papa, they get their big brothers instead (genya/tanjiro/muichiro or rengoku)

- gyomei is constantly in tears whenever they’re in baby mode around him

- because obanai squeaks and mewls like a kitten, gyomei refers to him as his “baby cat” … obanai clings onto him and can usually be seen snuggled up to his collarbone

- sanemi is a little terror until it comes to gyomei. he respects gyomei too much

- gyomei sleeps next to the crib. always. he hears the smallest sound and hes shooting up to make sure they’re okay

baby gyomei au [ #baby gyomei au ]

- his memories are all in tact and hes familiar with whats going on

- hes very cooperative and easy. he knows he’s in good hands so he abides by everything and tries to make taking care of him as simple as possible while sort of treating this as a “vacation”

- kagaya is alarmed and worried at first, because oh god the strongest hashira is now a little younger than a year… but he falls victim to the charm of baby gyomei

- gyomei is super sensitive and gentle. he goes “uhhmm…” a lot when he’s thinking, and likes to pet at his own head to try and get his bangs out of his eyes, since he’s not used to the longer hair

- very sensitive to loud sounds. half the time he starts bawling is because he was startled by something/someone

- muichiro and genya regularly fight over who gets to babysit

- muichiro almost always wins

- gyomei will just sit there listening to their banter and remind himself hes on vacation and only get involved if it actually gets serious (it never does)

- he’s a little embarrassed abt the whole situation but everyones really nice about it. nobody teases him (because its Gyomei) and everyone’s super respectful and always makes sure he’s doing okay

- muichiro gets upset whenever gyomei is taken from him

- gyomeo gets upset whenever he is taken from muichiro

- gyomeis favorite toy is a plush calico kitty that muichiro gifted him. he calls it “mew mew” (he calls muichiro ‘mew mew’ too)

- tengen is very excited about being the eldest and coos and coddles the little guy. gyomei is a little exasperated but he’s just happy tengen’s happy

- he has nightmares a lot, so he never sleeps alone

attaching my favorite baby gyomei doodle ever i like it a lot… look at him. fun fact his bangs are similar to muichiro’s. i like their family relationship a lot

[tojiwrd]

4: fate is fickle ; gojo satoru

pairing gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary when satoru breaks off your engagement, you understand and accept it. but when he marries someone else, you don't understand because he didn't want to be tied down.

content warnings family problems, bad, sad, emotional infidelity, dangerously short chapter im sorry getting you ready for the next one <;33 flashback flashback y did satoru end it with u??

word count 1.3k

a/n i'll beat both of them up i promise

send thoughts ↞ prev next ↠ to be added to taglist

People said promising yourself to someone you love was euphoric; it was a feeling you couldn’t achieve through any other form of happiness or drugs. Satoru believed that because when he asked you to marry him and you said yes, he felt as though he could rearrange and hang every star in the sky to spell your names for the rest of eternity. It was electric, the feeling, and he couldn’t get enough of it.

But Satoru wasn’t somebody who was ever in the midst of two lines; if he was happy, he was so fucking happy, and if he was sad, he was so fucking sad. 

Growing up in his home hadn’t taught him many things, but he’d come out of it with two lessons he’d always abide by:

Never, ever make promises you can’t keep.

If you can go against Gojo Takayashi’s wishes, do it.

He knew that he should wait to tell his parents about his engagement with you until you were with him, which is why he didn’t let it slip during the first dinner he had with his parents since he put a ring on your finger. When his father said he’d invited a guest over, Satoru felt more at ease to keep his mouth shut because, even though his parents were not his favorite people, he was itching to see their reaction. The little boy that lived somewhere in the abyss of his mind expected them to pop champagne, for his mother to immediately call each and every one of the people she knew to tell them the good news, for his father to pat him on the back with a gleeful smile that made him feel like he’d at least done one thing to make him proud.

And, even though his second rule was to always strive to go against his father, he felt it would be some sort of a twisted poetic number for his father to be proud of him for loving you. For you loving him back.

Kimura Hana was pleasant, and her parents even more so. Despite that, both children on the dinner table that night had a hard time trying to entertain themselves with the dull conversation. Their fathers droned on about their next upcoming business ventures, constantly toasting to the point they’d made a toast to the art of toasting, claiming that it was the best excuse for people to down more alcohol with good intention. 

Hana kicked his leg underneath the table from beside him and Satoru, Y/N-loving, elated-over-his-engagement-in-private Satoru, almost sent her a glare for being so close to him. But he covered it when he noticed a small napkin she passed his way, a small giggle leaving her lips. 

He opened it, and there he read, in pretty and small handwriting with red ink:

this is sooooo boring.

He looked around and patted his pockets subtly when her lithe fingers reached out, right above his lap, and offered him a pen. He gave her a small smile before replying:

If i have to hear another stupid toast, I’m going back to my room

She scanned his reply, and he noticed her lips curve up upwards as she did. Satoru leaned back, fork mushing the leftovers of his desert as he waited for her. Her hands reached down, and placed it right on his thigh and he almost jolted at the slight hint of her fingers against his jean-clad thighs.

He shakily opened the response, a misplaced sense of guilt ravishing his brain.

what about me???

He tried not to think much before he replied, reminding himself that this was friendly. She was being friendly.

You can come up too. I’d hate to leave you here with the wolves.

“Gojo,” Hana said, her voice loud enough for the entire table to hear. Satoru turned to her, raising his brows. “You wanted to show me that book, right?” She turned to her mother. “Ma, do we have enough time for me to go up and check it out?”

Her mother smiled a very specific kind of smile, and Satoru once again reminded himself that this was friendly. 

“Oh, of course. With the way things are going, I think we have about twenty more toasts to go.”

Satoru glanced back at his father who, in his drunken stupor, paid him no mind while his mother barely looked his way, eyes focused on the empty plate below her. 

When Hana went through his small bookshelf, something he didn’t think she’d actually do, he sat on his messy bed and watched her. She stopped at one of the books and pulled it out, a small smile on her lips as she turned back to look at Satoru. 

“What is this?” she asked, plopping down on the bed as she scanned a CD he’d placed in the middle of all the books. It was something Geto had given him once after a fight he’d had with you two months into your relationship, and if he remembered correctly, he’d written, on top of the case with a thick, black marker: move on bro!! Geto had brought it up in one of your recent conversations and said he wasn’t right in the head to think either of you could ever move on from the other, and followed that statement by saying you were meant for each other.

“Uh, my friend gave it to me after I had a… well—”

“A breakup?”

It was a small falling out, but he didn’t correct her because it was so long ago. So, he nodded. 

“Breakups are so—they’re so annoying.”

Satoru chuckled, curious. “Got your heart broke or somethin’?”

She shook her head vigorously, as though she hated that statement with every fiber in her bones. “No, at least not recently. Probably because I hate the idea of meaningless relationships.”

Meaningless relationships? “Elaborate.”

“I don’t know! Like, I’ve thought about it and I just don’t see the reason to tie myself down to someone, you know? I’m young and I have a lot of time to get serious and have joint bank accounts but now? I feel like if I ever tied myself down, it’d end sometime because we end up hating each other for holding each other back while we’re so young.”

He tried not to think about her words too much, but it was hard. He was sure she’d say something completely different were he to tell him about you and your engagement, sugarcoating her words and saying stuff like not you! I’m just talking about me, of course. And that was what he didn’t want. He appreciated her brutal honesty because she was unknowingly giving her perspective on something he hadn’t thought about before getting engaged. 

You love her and you’re her fiance, a part of his mind told him, holding him back from probing further. But another part, the part of him that was always scared over one thing or another pushed him to ask her more. 

And he did, he asked until he was unconsciously convincing himself that the two of you shouldn’t go through with this, but not enough for him to break it off with you. 

What did convince him to break it off with you was something that happened around a month later, after he and Hana had hung out plenty of times due to the increasing closeness of their parents. It was because he found himself shifting his chair closer to hers during dinner. It was because he unconsciously raised his thigh everytime she passed him a note and didn’t reach out his hand so her fingers would graze over it. It was because he was texting her more than he was texting you, and a part of him didn’t seem to mind it. 

He knew it was wrong, despite the plethora of times he tried to convince himself that it was platonic. He couldn’t deny that there was something so utterly wrong about how he didn’t want to tell Hana that he was engaged to you. He didn’t end it with you after doing something that would instantly cross the line he’d been teetering over the edge of for a month, he ended it with you when he felt like if she would cross that line unknowingly, he wouldn’t stop himself from giving in. 

And Satoru didn’t want to cross that line.

[sprunkimortality]

What do every Sprunki think of Gray?

Oren: "He's chill, bro. He's got good taste in music." Raddy: "Eh. He keeps out of my space and I keep out of his." Clukr: "According to my observations, Gray is a rather stoic individual. His lack of physical expression betrays his ability to feel emotions, and he can be quite hard to read at times. I can only make guesses as to how he feels based on context clues." Fun Bot: "Oh, Gray! He requests interesting songs from his favorite bands! It's always a new experience when he comes up to ask me to play something!" Vineria: "We're at similar wavelengths. Our auras blend well."

Brud: "Gray? Me like Gray! Gray is friend!" Garnold: "Gotta say, the kid's got interesting artistic interpretations of robotics. I didn't even know what divine machinery was until I heard him go through a whole rant about it! He's a cool one, I'll tell you that." OWAKCX: "G- Gray…oh, well, he- …h-he doesn't really…um…w- we don't…talk that much, you know? Hoohoo-! S- So, I, I- I don't know much about him, eh…e-except the fact that h- he wears the same shirt every day, hoho…" Sky: "Gray is so cool! He's got edgy makeup, edgy clothes, edgy music, everything's edgy! I want to be cool like him!"

Mr. Sun: "Ah, our very own Neutral Sprunki! There's a charm to his poker face that only he can pull off!" Durple: "Ahaha! You speak of my deadpanned companion? I've known him since we were Sprunklings! We were both losers without friends or anyone to chitter with at lunch, you see. Except I, in my ever-present radiance, was spared by the hells of torment he had to go through during those highschool years! That's not to say I condone it, no no no. I am HIGHLY against treating our very own emo boy with such exclusionism!" Mr. Tree: "I have been with him for every rest he takes every day in the afternoon. He brings peace to this bright and colorful town." Simon: "Well gee, Gray's one of my greatest friends! He's responsible and he always knows what to do in even the scariest situations! Don't tell him this, but…he's like a big brother to me! Yeah, we're the same age and unrelated but I don't care! He's big bro Gray to me!" Tunner: "Th' lad's in his own lil' world sometimes. He's a good kid. Never gets into any sorta trouble. Don't got a clue about the things he rambles on about sometimes, but I ain't gon' stop 'im whenever he does that. It's his passion."

Mr. Fun Computer: "He may not look like it, but he knows how to have fun in his own way! He visits me a lot! Though, he usually doesn't use my search engine or anything, like everyone else would. He just likes to come by and have conversations with me. It's nice!" Wenda: "So, like, big backstory dump, but…I actually hated Gray's guts. I dunno why. I was an evil kid! Like, so evil. I shoved him in the hallway and called him dumb and fat and whatever. Real talk, I was so mean to him. So like, him forigivng me was like, SUPER surprising. Like, what do you mean you forgive me?? Sure I regretted it and I apologized to his face but I didn't think he'd actually be, like, cool with me now! Anywayy. We're buddies now. We hang out and all that, soooo yeah. Happy ending! I hope." Pinki: "Gray is such a sweetheart! He helps me out at the bakery sometimes, even though he doesn't like having to deal with cooking oil…I really appreciate it whenever he comes by to help!" Jevin: "Within that anti-expression he wears, Gray is a Sprunki with passions to share."

Black: "He's not too bad, I suppose." Saves: "Sorry, who is…? Ah, yes! The horned one with the dirty shirt…ah, I remember now. Gray…he's so kind and generous. He is the same one who visits me every weekend, isn't he? Yes…he helps around the house. We tell stories to each other. He's precious." Ciqu: "He abides. I have no strong opinion of him." Sprinkles: "Heehee! Gray is fun! He takes care of me and Sky sometimes! He's like a big brother, but he doesn't have any little siblings…which is a bit sad, because he's fun as a brother!" Calvin: "Gray is super cool. And also fun to play pranks on! He doesn't get mad, so it's a little funny!" (edit 12/8/24: X FORGOT CIQU...XM SO SORRY MR POLICEMAN....)

[milksuu]

ur aphelios fic w solari priestess reader was soooo good, i can't stop going back to reread it bc i'm eager for pt 2 if you do end up writing one 😭😭 but there's so much potential for this man bc hello ?? enemies to lovers(?uh) ?? i really like the idea that they're on opposite sides bc as a lover of solari n lunari lore, it feels much more taboo. especially considering how scornful the solari people are of the lunari people which is clear in how the reader treats him 😕 a bit unjustified but it's nice that we aren't exactly a blank sheet of paper in this bc ofc we'd still have to abide by our morals and views 🩵🩵 i also wonder what alune thinks of this if she ever found out, would she even in the first place LMAO "i fear your brother nonconned me 😓😨🧟‍♂️" HDHDHDHS whenever there's an aphelios fic alune always pops into my mind afterwards since she's so dear to me, would the reader ever interact w her through aphelios? bisexuals really winning w this champ 😔

LKJSDVGBFLJHSDFVLSH!! omfg thank you for thinking so much about it. im cryiinnngggg!!! and yeah, im totally writing a part two. I'm at 1.8k words right now. sorry I bounce around a lot so i take a while to write lol.

BUT UGH YES. i definitely wanted to do an enemies/lovers kind of feel. (although i think in phels perspective reader's more 'lover' by his terms because well he's pretty unhinged in his perspective. what can we expect from a guy born and raised as a religious assassin who only ever interacts to his sister?? yeah his 'social' skills aren't going to be the best lmfao)

and like you stated anon, them being lunari/solari just adds the extra layers of drama, depth, and juicy plot potential. all in all, quite a banger.

as far as alune goess, I'd say she 100% knew. only because, alune is a Seer that shows aphelios' path, and directs him on missions. basically the moon told alune "yeah this is going to happen" then alune was like "heyyy soo....you're going to have to do this bro" and then ofc phel was somewhat conflicted the whole time but hey FAITH is never questioning and doing what you're told cause it's supposedly 'right'. and he definitely wants the believe it was all for a 'good' reason. Like him and reader are destined lovers since otherwise, why would the moon have him do that instead of just kill her? kinda like getting a gift for always being obedient to his faith (the copium is strong with this one). but yeah, phel made sure the toxin wore off so that his poor sister didn't have to endure that. (but assassinating people is totally fine obvs!)

alune and reader would have some sort of relationship a bit later. reader is technically a priestess, even though a solari one, she'd still be able to have some way to connect to the spirit realm. or reader can feel the ethereal vibrations emanating from him, but not fully understand/hone in alune's presence. but i think slowly over time, readers growing connection with aphelios will have her gradually connected with alune at some point.

and I want to say the moon goddess has a plan as to why that had to be done to reader. not sure how far i'll actually get to reveal it or develop it, since honestly, i had no intention of continuing let alone build any lore (THIS WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE SMUT DAMNIT HAHA) but we'll see.

whew, kinda went on a tangent, but i hope i've given you some good context anon! again, thank you for rereading my fixations and wanting more. as you can see, you've set off my dopamine receptors with this post lmfao. <3

stay tuned for part 2. ;3

[mikasimaginairyworld]

The Crows as incorrect quotes

---

Kaz at the beginning of SoC: 'some of you may die but that's a risk I'm willing to take.'

---

Inej:'You seem familiar. Have I threatened you before?'

---

Wylan: 'I know you're deflecting by making jokes about how hot you are.'

Jesper:' It's not a joke'

Jesper: sniffles

Jesper:'I'm a legit snack.'

---

Kaz:'Okay, I get it. You've had a hard time recently. You're stressed, depressed, seven people have died-'

Wylan:'Twelve, Kaz.'

Kaz: 'Not the point. They're dead now and whose fault is that?'

Wylan: 'Yours!'

Kaz: 'That's right: no one's.'

---

Nina: 'Is something burning?'

Matthias: 'Only my love for you.'

Nina: 'Matthias, the toaster is on fire.'

---

Jesper: '.. .----. --/ ... --- .-. .-. -.--' (I'm sorry)

Kaz: 'Jesper, what is that?'

Wylan: 'Morse code for I'm sorry.'

Jesper: 'Actually is remorse code.'

Kaz: 'I'm actually even more angry.'

---

Kaz: 'I'm not out of control! I'm a law abiding citizen!'

Inej: 'Oh really? Name one law.'

Kaz: 'Don't kill people?'

Inej: 'This one's on me, I set the bar too low.'

---

Nina: 'Must be hard not being able to laugh.'

Kaz: 'I do have a sense of humour, you know.'

Nina: 'I've never heard you laugh before.'

Kaz:'You've never said anything funny.'

---

Jesper: 'Just be yourself.'

Kaz: 'Be myself? Jesper, I have one day to win Inej over. How long did it take before you guys started to like me?'

Wylan: 'A couple of weeks.'

Nina: 'Six months.'

Matthias: 'The jury's still out.'

Kaz: 'See, Jesper?'

Kaz: 'Be myself. What kind of garbage advice is that?'

---

Kaz: 'Time for plan G'

Inej: 'Don't you mean plan B?'

Kaz: 'No, we tried plan B a long time ago. I had to skip over plan C due to technical difficulties.'

Nina: 'What about plan D?'

Kaz: 'Plan D was that desperate disguise attempt half an hour ago.'

Wylan: 'What about plan E?'

Kaz: 'Im hoping not to use it. I die in plan E.'

Matthias: 'I like plan E.'

---

Matthias: 'Would you guys be there if I was going through something?'

Wylan:'Nope, absolutely not.'

Inej:'I hope it sucks whatever you're going through.'

Jesper: 'I hope it emotionally scars you for the rest of your life.'

Nina:' I hop you reach out to me so I can ignore you.'

Kaz: 'I can't wait to go to your funeral knowing I could've changed the outcome.'

---

Wylan, walking into his house: 'Hello people who do not live here.'

Kaz:'Hey.'

Inej:'Hi.'

Jesper:'Hello'

Matthias: 'Hey!'

Wylan:'I gave you the key to my place for emergencies only!'

Nina: 'We were out of Doritos.'

---

Nina: 'Croissants: dropped.'

Matthias: 'Road: world ahead.'

Jesper: 'BBQ sauce: on my titties.'

Inej: 'Shavacado: fre.'

Wylan: 'Miss Keisha: fuckin dead.'

Kaz: 'I don't understand word of that and I hate every single one of you.'

---

Jesper: 'I love you guys. You're the best thing that's ever happened to me!'

Inej: 'We're the best things that's ever happened to you?'

Jesper: 'Yes!'

Kaz: 'I feel sorry for you.'

---

Kaz: 'Dandelions symbolize everything I want to be in life '

Inej: 'Fluffy and dead with a gust of wind?'

Kaz: 'Unapologetic. Hard to kill. Feral, filled with sunlight, bright, beautiful in a way that the conventional and controlling hate but cannot ever fully destroy. Stubborn. Happy. Bastardous. Friends with bees. Highly disapproving of lawns. Full of wishes that will be carried far after I die.'

Jesper: 'edible'

---

Wylan: 'I’m kind of crushing on someone, but I’m worried about telling you who it is, because you’re not going to like it'

Kaz: 'Just rip the bandage off.'

Wylan: 'It’s Jesper.'

Kaz: 'Put the bandage back on.'

---

Jesper: 'So, what, now I’m just supposed to do anything that Wylan does? I mean, what if he jumped off a cliff?'

Nina: 'If Wylan were to jump off a cliff, he would’ve done their due diligence regarding the height of the cliff, the depth of the water, and the angle of entry, so yes. If you see Wylan jump off a cliff, by all means, jump off a cliff.'

Jesper: 'You jump off a cliff!'

Nina: 'Gladly. Provided Wylan did first.'

---

Kaz: 'Inej and I don’t use pet names.' 

Nina: 'I see. Hey, what do bees make?'

Kaz: 'Honey?'

Inej:' Yes, dear?' 

Kaz: 

Nina:' Don't ever lie to my face again.'

[the-meme-monarch]

If they remade Balan wonderworld but good what changes do you think would be most important

ohh ive had this stewing for a while so it's not just gonna be "what changes would be most important" it will also be some nitpicking

-i think. you could make it a game with no dialogue. i think that'd be novel and cool. but the weird thing is the actual game doesn't really commit to that? balan talks in-game. anyway they need to like. Actually tell the story bc as it stands w all the context being in the book isn't really great. more comprehensive cutscenes. and also I'm no game dev but like. it doesn't play well. i feel like it could stand to be more puzzley and maybe they can use that to help portray each residents stories more/better?

-i think the wonderworld should just abide by real time bc w it originally existing outside time and space kinda. Doesn't make complete sense to me. It being 'these twelve guys are having issues at the moment" makes more sense to me. therefore. dropping the cass attilio romance. It was weird anyway. princess merry is cass' older sister

-instead of the illusions of themselves that lead you to their negati boss form, it's a shadow that you see on the walls/ground(bc they're a shadow of their former selves haha). maybe your shadow is replaced w theirs?

-im thinking their backstory cutscenes are each told through different creative mediums:

-Fiona through sand animation, Eis through oil pastel on glass animation(like mob psycho 100 has) , Lucy through like a series of paintings? Cass maybe something similar to the mechanical puppets that hers is already, have Sana’s commit with wooden carved sets in stop motion (wouldn’t have to actually be Real stop motion, just make it look like it)

-either Balan just doesn’t have a ‘true form’ or his true form still reads as black bc i will continue to be 😐 over that for-absolutely-ever

-Cass’ cat has to die. I’m sorry. or at least get hit and nearly die. also I’m thinking the accident also caused Iben’s parents deaths bc i heard somebody suggest that in frankenbugs’ playthrough of it and that sounded cool to make it connected. and Cass shutting out her grief like it never happened while Iben let her grief consume her bc of the same accident also sounds cool

-also abt frankenbugs i agree w them that I don’t think Lucy’s stage needs any changing i think hers is the best structured. i think everyone else’s stages need to be changed to match

-also maybe reorder the levels so they're in like. have the more intense problems at the end. like Bruce's being the last level seems kinda Whatever after cass and iben's levels literally involve death

-i think have their ‘why they’re in wonderworld’ cutscene play at the beginning of their stage when you first get there, and the ‘what happens after they leave’ play after their boss fight like normal bc idk where to put it otherwise

-I think it'd be neat if the hub world was the theatre instead of the isle of tims. what little we actually see of the theatre in the opening cutscene looks GREAT and i think that'd make for a cooler hub to get to all the stages w the character posters. i honestly don't really care for the tims (i like them in theory not really in practice) and much less the tower

and that's all i got rn but i might come back to this I'm watching the 1993 mario movie rn

[justicefortheunderground]

omfg I swear this is the last post I'm making on this. I'm so tired of it going over screenshots sent in the discord in order so it might be off, sorry. I don't HATE anybody, im uncomfortable with people and thus don't want to interact. In fact I was one of the last people in the discord server to voice my concerns. It's not something to be 'fixed', it's simply a boundary. All I'm asking is not to interact, if you don't want drama change or just abide by our requests to not interact?? We aren't like banning you from roleplay or anything that'd be stupid. Just make your own space if you aren't going to change, please. Also. I've never told anybody specifically to avoid any of the blogs. This was a decision most of you collectively agreed on, this blog is just being focused on fsr so that's where we're directing the posts. 1// Queer erasure is essentially intentionally or unintentionally removing a character or person's queerness. This is a bad thing to do for tons of reasons which you can research on your own time. This post will be long enough already. They/them Clover IS strictly canon, as a quote DIRECTLY from the developers says. Please get your facts in order. The issue isn't that Clover's gender is being changed, it's that their pronouns are being changed from more genderqueer pronouns, to more cisgender pronouns. Regardless of if this is intentionally or not, this IS queer erasure, and makes a lot of people extremely uncomfortable. 2// Try not to think about yourself that way, it comes off as guilt-trippy to people. And I was trying to go over each of your points to debunk, it was just a short quip. Sorry. 3//"it's just the internet" is a bad way to excuse your behavior. Don't. 4//Aging up characters in order to ship them in a less controversial way is almost universally a REALLY gross thing to do for so many reasons. There are a ton of videos that dive really deep into this topic, highly recommend. No NSFW should already be a given. 5//I didn't say choose another ship, I said another character. Yaknow. An adult. Also yes PLEASE stop interacting with underblog. We are not attacking anybody, we've only been responding to when you guys come to us. Genuinely we just don't want to interact. We have never EVER wished death on anybody. Seriously if anybody has I'm EXTREMELY sorry about that, if anybody has please let us know that's literally the worst thing somebody could do. In the discord KYS JOKES are even banned. I don't hate you, I don't think any of us underblog folks really do. We just are genuinely really uncomfortable and don't want to interact but this keeps escalating. I assume it's because you guys are young but honestly, please genuinely grow up. I don't believe any of this was intentional but the way it was handled was extremely poor. I genuinely hope you guys realize with time because I know I was absolutely like this when I was younger. It's not an attempt to flame any of you, I've never tried to flame any of you, only responded in ways I wish I'd gotten responded to when I was like this. I don't think any of us on either side are bad people, I think reactions were just handled badly. You can make your own roleplay space, honestly we really just don't like interacting with you guys. It's extremely draining. Please stop. And this is NOT just from me. I review these messages with the rest of underblog before posting. We're all just really fucking tired. Speaking of any of you (underblog) are more than free to add on your own thoughts below just keep it respectful.

[pitbullwithaship]

DOCTOR WHO LIVEBLOG 2009 SPECIAL THE END OF TIME (PART 1)

Okay, I think I might be emotionally prepared for both of the parts of this. Time to watch, wish me mental stability!

Planet Earth Intro

Oh there's a documentary narrator lol

Hello christmas

WILF HELLO

Pretty singing, gorgeous singing

Those kids are good

Tardis cameo?

THE SAINTED PHYSICIAN LOL

Spooky woman?

Evil laughter?

Hi Doctor (he's mentally ill)

Hi Ood (he is aware of the Doctor's mental illness)

Snowy day

Ooh pretty city

Ood prophet cool

More evil laughter?? Hello?

Which man is dead

The Master? Maybe tis his wife at least (poor her)

WHATY WHAT TIS WEIRD GALLIFREYAN THINGY

HES ALIVE THEN WHAT

It's not nice when time starts bleeding

Poor Lucy

Weird woman on the TV?

Okay resurrection generally isn't the greatest choice

This is culty

Til death do them part she's awesome

Person running? Master running?

I love Wilf he's so silly

Lol sending out the troops to find the Doctor

Okay so the Master is even more insane than before

Yay Obama

Creepy as hell my dude

That's horrifying

That's ultra horrifying jeez

Hello Doctor

Epic chase through a garbage dump

"Let me help" oh come on you've tried that before

Old people gang up to take a photo with him lol

Gets groped

Don't be sulky Doctor

HE WILL KNOCK FOUR TIMES OH MY GOSH

Dude course you'll die that's just what happens

Not changed no

Aww hello Shaun Temple

They're cute, and he's glad she's happy, he's the ultimate depressed bestie

Merry Fucking Christmas

Awww he misses her so much!! This is so sad!!!

Doctor where are you going now!?

Idiots and fools

Dramatic western faceoff

WALKS FROM AN EXPLOSION HELLO

I've said before, he's quite good at getting electrocuted

He's also vaguely suicidal but at the same time desperate to stay alive

Oh I know, he has the fear of death that only one who'd like to die can have

We can hear it

HE HEARD IT

You are mad my dude

Flying light thing? Hello

Oh it's the government then I assume

Poor Doctor

Oh generic rich powerful dude has a book

HELLO DONNA?

Oh generic rich powerful dude has the Master

Okay generic rich powerful people are evil generic rich powerful people

The war was won and passed you by

Aww he never killed that wonderful I live Wilf

Usually if people say "whatever you do don't tell so-and-so" you should probably tell so-and-so

Pistol

He loves her so much

Fair enough lol

Sylvia gurl

I thought it'd be cleaner I love Wilf

Wilf and Doctor friendship is the most pure flawless amazing one ever

Scientists rebelling maybe?

Nope those are aliens

PEOPLE NEED TO STOP TRYING FOR IMMORTALITY ITS BAD

If the censoring thing on the tardis got broken the Doctor would be scandalized by the amount of swearing his companions all do but especially wilf and donna

Shimmer shimmer

I love aka hate how he's wearing a dog collar

Bondage

Oh shit

Oh dear

I guess they hide the presidents face cuz they couldn't get a real Barack Obama cameo which sucks

No he's not gonna love this

Oh dear a planet of Masters

Oh dearie me

That's disturbing

That's incredibly disturbing holy cows

THE TIME LORDS RETURNED IM SORRY WHAT HELLO THE NARRATOR IS A TIME LORD TOO WHY DO THEY WANT TO END TIME I THOUGHT THEY WERE STUFFY AND LAW ABIDING

[metagalacticx]

there’s a hierarchy of respect based on what people ship that i have to abide by or i’ll die

at the top of the list is scira - but i always assume everyone ships scira so that means i respect most of you. anyway this is the otp ever and i get so emotional over how scott and kira will probably never be together again and it breaks my stupid little heart

next is scydia - if you ship scott and lydia or if like me you are obsessed with their friendship then you have my respect forever and it would be pretty hard to lose it

number three is morey - i feel like most people ship them but very passively so if you’re a hardcore morey enjoyer pls scream at me about them i love them so much and i will respect you forever

next is scoyd - when i say i think about them a lot i’m not exaggerating if you are a true scoyd believer there is almost nothing you can do to make me lose respect for you

scallison - i respect scallisons but i respect divorced scallison enthusiasts even more sorry. their story was perfect and it ended perfectly which means i don’t think scallison is endgame (but i won’t be upset if it is) also i’m scallison trash like they mean so much to me i don’t talk about it ever but scott and allison truly were it

scisaac- what can i say, i am not immune to this perfect pairing that i hope some way, somehow is endgame for the movie.

josh & tracy- not romantically or sexually or anything but if you think about them a lot together you have earned my respect

liam/mason- their smush ship names annoy me but yes if you ship them eternal respect

stackson - this one is tricky because i respect stacksons but only the stacksons who truly understand how stackson works

lydia/tracy - there’s something about this that just makes me so insane and everyone who ships them deserves a kiss

layden - there are virtually none of you left. every single one of you died with the great thiaming of 2020. and as a layden enthusiast i resent that. so respect to anyone who still sees this pairing for what it really is <3

*every pairing with theo raeken is automatically last on this list im so sorry i don’t make the rules xoxo

**there is a secret theo pairing that is actually number four on this list but i won’t say what it is hehehe but everyone who ships them is enlightened and deserves multiple kisses no it’s not thiam sry xoxoxo

[beatbawksradio]

long post about a conversation i had with my therapist about my Mirror Touch Synesthesia a while back

my therapist: okay so I've done some research since our last session and I've figured out why i and none of the therapists you had before me have ever heard of Synesthesia. it's because its not actually a mental illness at all, it's a physiological brain condition, a mutation in your neural pathways that causes your brain to experience more sensory signals than average

me: well i kinda knew that much. it doesn't change the fact that these sensations are still not real and something i should be able to just get over and not let affect me anymore

my therapist: hold on, let's step back a moment. this is a physiological brain condition. that means that your sensations are not actually delusional or hallucinatory. they are actual, real sensations that are indistinguishable from "real" physical stumuli. this effectively makes them no different from "real" physical stimuli, the damage it does to your brain is identical. i want to emphasize: this is not a mental illness. this is not something that can be cured or overcome. there is no treatment for this. there are no pills you can take or any therapy you can go through that's going to just make these sensations disappear. you will experience this for the rest of your life. what we need to work on is not trying to numb this sensation, but to work on how you can validate and accommodate yourself effectively, and surround yourself with a support system that does the same

me: but what if someone is trying to post about their own pain or injury, and i ask them to at least hide the content so I'm not affected? isn't that selfish of me to try and stifle and claim ownership over pain that they're legitimately experiencing?

my therapist: hiding the content is a very simple ask and if they can't abide that boundary, then they're not someone with your best interests and safety in mind. from what I've learned, in my opinion, i believe someone intentionally posting images of injury where you can see it while knowing about your condition, could medically constitute physical assault against you

me: im sorry, but no one is ever going to take me seriously if i try to argue that my echo of imaginary pain is anything similar to the real physical pain or assault that they've gone through. claiming that images can physically assault me is ridiculous

my therapist: only people who don't care about you in a real way will treat you like that, and I'm saddened that you've never been given that validation before. you can still care for someone in physical pain while having your boundaries respected. if they refuse to validate your pain and continue to cause you damage, then yes, you are legitimately being physically assaulted by them. anyone who doesnt want to respect that is not someone who is important enough in your life to stay close to. you are more than allowed to cut off anyone who assaults you in this way, just as you would if someone did physically assault your actual body

me: okay... and what of people who have a difficult or impossible time understanding this condition and my boundaries because of it? how would i get through to someone with little to no capacity for empathy without being unfair about it?

my therapist: life isn't always fair. sometimes, people may simply be incompatible. there's nothing wrong with that. and if being around someone, mentally ill or not, stresses you out and causes you to be a victim of physical violence, it is not unfair of you to cut them off and avoid them. if someone isn't capable of understanding what they did wrong, then you won't ever be able to trust them to understand your boundaries. it is what it is. it's much better for everyone involved for you to avoid anyone you don't trust to properly accommodate for you, than for you to repeatedly have your boundaries crossed and your body assaulted over something they also can't control. its not your responsibility to "fix" anyone also struggling with mental illness who can't understand how they're hurting you, and realistically i don't know if you'd ever be able to get through to them on your own anyway. if they're not willing to accept or validate your condition, they're more likely to cause more problems for you by inciting distrust through claiming that your condition isn't real, claiming that you use your condition to be selfish or manipulative, or otherwise claiming that you're not good or kind enough to deserve your boundaries being respected and this condition being taken seriously

me: hit the nail on the head with that....

my therapist: its what I've observed by what you've been through and the way you talk about your Synesthesia. it seems like you've been targeted by a lot of toxic people who see you as a reputational stepping stone to make themselves look better, only to "expose" you once you realize what's happening and try to stand up for yourself. i can't imagine how exhausting it must be to constantly have this thing you undeniably feel and can't control called into question at every turn. that's why i think it's so important to make sure we're validating this as a physiological condition, and not a mental illness, because that changes things a lot. its not just "all in your head," its not just being "too sensitive and needing thick skin," and it's not just "get therapy and stop letting affect you." You're stuck with this, forever, and the people around you need to understand that just as much as you do. they need to accommodate for you with the same effort that you accommodate for yourself, bottom line. if they can't do that, then they can't be in your life. you deserve to protect yourself from physical assault. you deserve to remember that this is physical assault, physical abuse that we're dealing with, not simple discomfort or anxiety or hallucinations. i think your life will improve significantly once you and your support system understand that

[imagine-darksiders]

Okay, now Im gonna need a scenario where y/n accidentally exposes her chest in front of Death and someone else (honestly, probably Draven or Karn, hell Strife too, cause those they give me a vibe that they won’t be able to look away lol) and Death is not happy, not at our dear y/n, but at the other person for looking and not being able to stop looking 😂

It wasn't as if you'd meant to give poor Draven a heart attack. Far from it, in fact.

In your defence, you hadn't expected that an arachnid native to the Dead Plains would scuttle right up behind you and climb up and under the hem of your shirt.

The almighty shriek that explodes out of you is loud enough to be heard all the way through the Eternal Throne's courtyard and out into the desert beyond.

And to think, mere moments ago, you, Death and Draven had all been lounging quite happily in the undercroft, discussing - with no particular degree of investment - the Chancellor's uselessness.

Seemingly out of nowhere, you all but fly from the barrel you'd been leaning on, almost startling Draven off his own barrel. Death's head snaps up from where he'd been glaring a hole into a nearby brazier and raises one, ebony brow when he sees you tearing at the hem of your flimsy shirt, twisting and writhing in the most perturbing ritual he's seen from you yet.

"Let me guess," he says drily, his eyes tracking your erratic dance around the undercroft, "This is the infamous game of 'Charades' you so enjoy playing?"

Far more concerned with your sudden and inexplicable shift in demeanour, Draven takes half a step forwards and regards you cautiously, calling, "You all right there, love?"

"GET IT OUT!" is your shrill reply.

'Expect the unexpected.' Death has always tried to abide by that motto. But for all his millennia of self-taught wisdom, the Horseman never could have expected your ensuing course of action.

Evidently having decided that your odd behaviour isn't quite odd enough, you suddenly grab the hem of your shirt and, without further preamble, you yank the article up and over your head in one, desperate tug before tossing it away from you as if it had caught fire.

All at once, Death's bemusement takes a steep nosedive into the realm of shock.

There you stand, one hand clutched over your racing heart and your chest heaving up and down with each, gasping breath, wearing nothing above your waist save for a cotton brassiere.

Death is quietly, dangerously still, staring at your discarded shirt and only vaguely registering the little brown blob that scuttles out of the sleeve and vanishes between a crack in wooden floorboards.

You've just disrobed.... in front of Draven.

Draven! The very undead who's been vying for your attention ever since you stepped through the archway and into the Eternal Throne's courtyard.

"Bloody hell!" the Blademaster breathes, allowing his jaw to tumble shamelessly open until it's in danger of detaching from his skull.

Death's neck creaks around to glare icily at the side of the undead's face. "Draven. If you don't avert your eyes in the next two seconds-!"

Before Death can stop you, you turn towards the undead and drop your hand back to your side, giving both of them a full-frontal view of your chest.

"Sorry about that," you sigh, blowing out an awkward chuckle, "There was a-"

You're interrupted by a sudden shout.

"DON'T turn this way!" Death blurts, throwing a large, skeletal hand up to block his mask's eye sockets. Draven, he notes, makes no such effort to avert his own gaze.

Growling low in his throat, the Horseman throws his free hand out and snags the Blademaster by the scuff of his cloak. Then, furious, he whirls about on his heel, dragging a gormless Draven along behind him.

"Put your shirt back on, for goodness sake," he calls back to you, ignoring the Blademaster's utterance of protest, "And you, lech, you and I are going topside to have a little chat about that hanging jaw of yours."

[isolated-bug]

Arcane: The Unfair Blame Game

So this one is going to be a bit of an emotionally fueled rant. Sorry guys... But like.. i see a lot of people getting mad that Jinx/Silco fans blame Vi and stuff but like... Yknow someone i havent seen catch any fire? Jayce. Fucking Jayce. I’m sorry for any offense if you like him as a character but i absolutely dont. Jayce reminds me of every blue eyed blond athlete, jock, popular kid, etc in school that got a free pass on their misdoings. Every character in Arcane bears some of the burden of what happens. Every character makes a mistake and messes up and does the wrong thing at some point. But MOST people boil this blame down to three: Jinx, Silco, and Mel. You know why? Because those three characters are the only ones we see on screen OWN their decisions. Everyone else its like “oopsie, didnt see that happening.” and they are forgiven for having good intentions. But Mel had good intentions. She wanted to prove to her war mongering family that she can do well on her own without conquest of nations and that she didnt need violence to succeed. Silco had good intentions. He would do whatever it took to gain national independence for his home that is constantly subjected to the cruelty of law enforcement and neglected by the government. Jinx, when Powder, had good intentions. She wanted to help her family. And after that she had self preservation at the heart of her actions fueled by a LOT of trauma. You know why i hate Jayce? because he is the golden boy who gets out of everything for FREE. He was around 23/24 in act 1. Knowing he was doing black market dealings and importing arcane artifacts taht were illegal and dangerous into Piltover and experimenting on them in secret in an academy building where he was putting hundreds of lives at risk due to the volatile nature of the arcane stones. What does he get for it? “you cant go to school anymore”. thats it... and in that SAME night, he becomes one of the cities leading inventors and all is forgiven because he made magic work. Then things go badly again, and he gets promoted to the council. Like, he never gets punished for anything he has caused. Ever. and im NOT saying that is entirely his fault. That is not my point at all. And i even think him getting a free pass is intentional. To showcase the contrast in how Piltover citizens are treated more kindly and with more understanding than Zaunites. But it seriously pisses me off so so fucking much. Literally if Jayce would have just abided by the fucking LAW nothing in Arcane would have happened. Silco wouldnt have made a deal with Marcus because there would be no treasure trove of info to leverage. Enforcers wouldnt be subjecting the Zaunites to violent interrogation because there would be no one to search for. Since Vander wouldnt be vulnerable, he wouldnt have been captured and the kids wouldnt have needed to save him so no one would have died and Jinx would not have fallen under Silco’s care. Sure, shimmer would still have eventually become a problem and Silco would have found a time to target Vander. I dont deny that at all. but my point is im so sick and tired of everyone blaming Mel/Silco/Jinx for all the problems as if the “good” characters werent equally responsible with their own choices as well. I mean, fuck, even Heimerdinger is responsible. That yordle has been in a council seat for hundreds of years and just sat by and watched as the Zaunites suffered in poverty and poisonous gases needing medical aid and relief and government assistance and he did nothing about it. Are Mel/Silco/Jinx to blame for shit too? yes. 100000% yes That is undeniable. but at least they have the balls to fucking own their shit and see it through.

[tobiosmilktea]

cake dates w/ kageyama tobio

req: HELLO?????I MISSED YOU SM I HOPE YOU WERE LIVING GREATLY!!!!! CAN I REQUEST TOBIO + CAKE DATE PLEASE !!!

a/n: ahh im so sorry this is being put out so late!! life be catching bitches off guard at the worst possible times (it’s me,, i’m bitches)

— k. tobio

the idea of an ideal date for tobio is probably somewhere along the lines of the two of you bonding over a good game of volleyball or being lazy coach potatoes at home binge watching movies

never in a million years would you have ever expected him to agree going on a cake date with you

"whatever the hell that is..." were exactly what kageyama had said when you brought it up to him

though, it took a while to convince him to genuinely say yes

most of the time, he would simply grunt an answer and then the plans of doing so just never happen (story of my life rip)

it was the midst of summer break, it was hot and literally anything would be better than just sitting around at home (not that you minded anyway)

you politely asked him to dress in something nice—definitely not in a suit or anything, but you'd prefer if he didn't go out with you in sweats

"save those adidas for our netflix nights, babe." you would tell him with a chuckle and a smile

he would roll his eyes at you, playfully abiding

as per usual, he let's you take the lead on dates

letting you drag him around the miyagi metropolitan area with your hand in his

despite his stoic and oddly confused exterior half the time, he absolutely loves it when you're beaming in excitement

his heart ached when you two were waiting in line to get into the cafe, his heart ached when you told him about the cake flavor you were most excited for, and his heart ached when you apologized if you were being a bit annoying

and to that he would squeeze your hand tighter, tugging you closer to him with those cheeks of his infamous to glow red whenever he displayed any affection to you in public

once you two were seated in the cute themed cafe of your choosing, tobio would let you take the reins in ordering whatever tooth-rotting dessert you wanted

he was well aware of the fact that you would argue with him to the ends of the earth to at least split to bill, but tobio was stubborn himself

he loved seeing you like this—enjoying yourself in his company

not to mention the way he would literally melt in a puddle when you would give him the first bite of dessert you ordered, telling him to say "ah"

tobio would have to fight a smile every time with his red tinted cheeks as he let you feed him

perhaps he'd been putting off this cake date for too long because if it was with you, he wouldn't mind doing this everyday

taglist: @yongboxerrr @rosepetalhaven @tanakaslastbraincell @kellesvt @kitsunetea @anejuuuuoy @watariisbestboy @larkspyrr @miyadarling @chaotic-fangirl-blog

[meat--grindr]

another trans man fixated on Martin here!! 💕

could i request some NSFW of an ftm S/O teasing Martin while hes on the phone trying to do another interview as The Count? not a lot of talking from the S/O while hes on the phone, mostly physical stuff & feeling him up thru his clothes. the rest is up to you >:)))

(def going to use as a drawing prompt im just so so embarrassed to request off anon 😔😔😔)

Alright, so, this prompt has been living in my head rent-free ever since I first read it and I am so freaking excited to finally get to it. I’m sorry it took so long. I will admit this was a bit of a challenge for me because I am notoriously bad at writing dialogue. But I feel like it was good practice. Sorry if it sounds a little stilted in spots, I’m still learning.

Please, please, please link me to that art if you ever get around to it! You knocked it out of the park with this prompt and I’d love to give the art some love if you’re comfortable with sharing!

The Count Didn’t Count on This – Martin Mathias (Trans-Masculine Reader) – NSFW.

·       It’s late, and for once, you’re exactly where you feel you should be at this late hour—not sprawled across a chair reading, or gazing out of the window, watching the cars pass and counting the neighbours’ lights as they flick on and off in lieu of stargazing. And for the first time in at least a week, you’re not trapped at your desk, frantically typing the final draft of a paper, hindered by the slow keys of a typewriter that does not care a whit about the deadline steadily hurtling toward you. No, thankfully, this night has brought with it far more comfortable circumstances—you find yourself in bed, tired bones sinking into the plush mattress, consciousness caught in the bleary space between sleep and not.

·       Even better, you aren’t alone.

·       Tonight, your bed is warmed by another body, long and thin, curled tightly against your own, as though it were some sort of crime to leave even an inch of space between you. A bony hip digs into your thigh and you’re sure the press of your head and shoulder against his chest must make breathing difficult for him. But he’s made no attempt to shrug you off or shift your weight to a more comfortable spot, so you likewise let it be. In all honesty, you’re simply too comfortable to bother and you feel it’s safe to assume the same is true for Martin too.

·       The slow, even beat of his heart pulses against your cheek, and his long fingers stroke absently over your bare shoulder. The rough texture of burgeoning callouses catches against your skin—the sensation, though not wholly unpleasant, makes you shudder. Sometimes, you forget Martin works with his hands. When you hold them, they seem so delicate—his long fingers better suited to playing the piano than tightening screws or hammering nails. But he’s good at repairs and more importantly, he seems to find enjoyment the work. It certainly keeps him busy enough on the few afternoons that Cuda isn’t running him ragged in the shop, much to your personal dismay. But his nights—the nights like this—belong to you and you alone.

·       Your eyelids flutter closed, and for the first time in what feels like weeks, maybe even longer, you feel like you can rest. Really rest. Dimly, you find yourself wondering if it had more to do with finished papers and diminished responsibilities, or the reintroduction of the physical intimacy you’ve been missing so dearly. Though you can’t say for certain, you have a sneaking suspicion it’s the latter.

·       The longer you know Martin, the more you’re convinced that there is a preternatural bubble of calm that hangs around him. You can feel it in the way even the grouchiest old women in the store seem to soften toward him—hiding small smiles behind their sleeves, sometimes even calling him ‘dear,’ or in the way Cuda’s volatile temper deflates when his cruel words slide off Martin’s back as though he’s heard it all before from people who frightened him far greater. You’ve seen it at work on the feral cats that roam the neighbourhood—while they hiss and swipe at the children who chase them through the dusty streets, they sit willingly at Martin’s feet, rubbing against his legs with a familiarity that borders on friendly. And it’s in the way he looks at you—looks into you with those dark eyes that seem far too old for that handsome, youthful face—intense and all-seeing, but never judgemental. He is a point of unflappable calm in a world which never seems to slow for even a second. That calm has settled into you now, seeping into your bones as you lay there, listening to his heart thumping in the darkness.

·       The low crackle of the radio hovers at the edge of your hearing, a burst of static cutting through the droning voices. You’d stopped listening properly ages ago—the third time the DJ had made an attempt to dismiss his latest caller. It was an old man who was seven shades of pissed about the ‘teen-age hooligans’ who were ‘tipping over his bins every night and eating his trash.’ Of course, everyone with half a brain, including the host himself, knows it’s an animal—probably a raccoon, or a family of raccoons, but this old geezer has somehow convinced himself it’s a gaggle of ‘Satan-worshipping teenagers who have been brainwashed by heavy metal music and Pepsi Cola.’

·       Okay. Sure.

·       It’s utterly ridiculous, and just the sort of thing you’ve come to expect from the people who live in Braddock. Or the ones who call in to a show like this anyhow.

·       In a way, you feel bad for the poor DJ. Sure, he welcomes strange callers of all kinds, from alien abductees and bigfoot hunters to bereaved parents who teenagers are ‘just growing up too fast,’ or ‘a little too interested in the works of William Shakespeare.’ He even encourages them at times, but you’ve got to draw the line somewhere, and in your mind, this, funny as it may be, is probably it. You’re sure whatever the station is paying the guy, it isn’t enough to suffer through being called a ‘brainless sack of human garbage’ by a crazy old man.

·       “And that’s about all the time we have,” Despite his cheery tone, the poor guy sounds exhausted. “Thank you for calling!”

·       Another burst of static drowns out the old man’s reply, but you’re sure that whatever he’d said, it was not ‘radio-friendly.’

·       “…our next caller. You are on the air, Sir!”

·       “Yeah, uh…hi, Barry.” The man sounds young—probably not much older than yourself—and very nervous. He must be a first-time caller. As he and the DJ share opening pleasantries—what’s your name, how old are you, where are you calling in from tonight, is that a cat I hear in the background? —your attention begins to drift again. You teeter for a moment on the edge of sleep, the clean scent of your linen sheets and Martin’s shampoo filling your nose.

·       “I was just wondering if you’ve heard from the Count again since last time?”

·       And just like that, you’re awake again, attention fully focused on your radio and the funny little show that whispers through it.

·       The caller is asking about Martin. A cold shiver rumbles through your body. People ask about Martin on the show all the time—of course, they don’t know that’s who they’re asking about, but you do. It’s so strange, to hear a stranger talk about someone you know so well—even worse when they speak about him like they know him too. Sometimes, they make you laugh with their outlandish theories, but sometimes they make you sick—sick with worry: when he’s threatened with violence or exposure, sick with fear: when they make guesses that hit a little too close to home, and sick with jealousy: when they claim to have had an ‘encounter’ with him, or worse, try to set one up on air.

·       You know about Martin, of course—that he is a vampire, or at least he thinks he’s a vampire. Whether or not you believe him is another question entirely. He certainly does not abide by the ‘vampire rules’ as you know them from stories and television—he doesn’t sleep in a coffin, filled with dirt from his homeland or otherwise, rather he sleeps in a bed (curled up beside you more often than not these days). He cuts a handsome figure in mirrors and the photographs that you have pinned up above your desk. He walks about in the sun most days without complaint despite his pale complexion, and though he may not be a sleek. Predatory creature that oozes confidence, grace, and sex appeal, he’s no slouch either—lithe and handsome in a boyish sort of way, all knees, elbows, and wide dark eyes.

·       In fact, the only requirement he seems to meet on the proverbial ‘vampire checklist’ is his fixation with blood—and the need to consume it. Maybe that means something, maybe it doesn’t. You’ve come to the conclusion that what you think really doesn’t matter in the end—your opinion isn’t going to sway him on the subject one way or another. This is a truth about himself he believes perhaps more deeply than anything else. Who were you to try and change that?

·       So, you do your best to take everything in stride, and when you can’t, you humour him. Still, every once in a while, something will trip you up—you still can’t quite decide if he’s joking about being over eighty years old or not. But you do your best. You had even let him feed on you once. Though only once. In the end, it was Martin who had decided the experience was not one he would like to repeat.

·       He had laid you out on your bed, “I don’t want you to get hurt if you faint.” Though you’d told him nearly a hundred times that you’d be just fine, that you’d had blood taken before at the hospital, he had insisted.

·       You had expected things to be different. For a start, you had expected him to climb into your lap, to press his lips against your neck, seeking your pulse the way it’s done in the movies. Instead, he’d taken out a little white kit from his bag. He had unzipped it and laid it out on the bed, revealing a little bottle of clear liquid, a row of sterile, hypodermic needles, and a pack of fresh razor blades.

·       His long fingers fell upon the needles, caressing them lovingly one by one. Much to your relief, he did not pick one up. As if he could sense your apprehension, he’d said, “Don’t worry, I won’t need these.” He’d glanced up at you, measuring your reaction, “I won’t need them because you’re not going to fight me. Are you?” It wasn’t really a question. You shook your head, and the corners of his lips quirked up into a smile, “Good. It’s so much easier when they don’t fight me.” Those words had made you shudder. He really had done this before, then. Part of you hadn’t believed him—he seemed so…harmless

·       He’d picked out a single blade from the package, meticulously removing the white paper wrapping, taking extra care not to tear it, or let the blade cut into it. When he was through, he folded the paper into a neat square and dropped it onto the comforter. He lay the blade flat on his palm for you to see. “I don’t have pointy teeth, you see.” He took your hand, opening his mouth and guiding your fingers along the edges of his flat, dull teeth. “They aren’t sharp, so they don’t cut deep enough. You understand?” You’d nodded and he had kissed your fingertips gently, one by one.

·       “I’ll be careful, I promise,” He’d said, “I’ll only take a little. Just enough to take the edge off.” Despite the hungry glint in his eyes, you’d known he was telling the truth. He didn’t need to reassure you of that. You trusted him. Besides, you had asked for this. At least, he’d stopped asking if he still had your permission every five minutes. Of course he did.

·       And yet. Your heartbeat had kicked up, jittering like a frightened bird when you’d seen the needles and the razor. It was as though actually seeing them had made the whole situation feel more real. There was no denying you were afraid, but you didn’t tell him to stop—you didn’t want to. You had made up your mind. You wanted this; wanted to help.

·       He’d held your hand in his own like it was a thing made of glass. His fingers gripped the razor with a practiced grace as he held it just above your palm. Watching him, you were struck for the second time by just how rehearsed this seemed. How many times had he done this, with or without permission?

·       “Take a deep breath for me, okay? There’s a good boy.” Did he talk to the others too? Even the ones who fought back? You could picture him, chattering softly against the skin of some poor soul, sprawled limp across the floor.

·       Limp or lifeless?

·       The thought unsettled you, but you did as you were told, filling your lungs nearly to capacity as the sharp edge of the blade bit into the meat of your palm just below your thumb. As promised, he had been quick, pressing only as hard as was necessary. Even so, the sting of it made your flinch, your hand jumping in his own. His fingers tensed around yours, the tightness of his grip reflected in the grimace that flashed across his face as he bent his head to seal his lips around the wound.

·       You had expected to feel him pulling the blood from you, but he simply let it flow into his mouth, the coppery taste heavy on his tongue. He exhaled through his nose, long and low—a pleased sound. Something about that set you more at ease. He hadn’t recoiled or wrinkled his nose at the taste of your blood. You hadn’t even realized you were worried about how you tasted until that moment.

·       You had started to feel dizzy beneath him—dizzy not from a loss of blood, but the wet heat of his mouth against your skin. Your heart had stuttered in your chest as his tongue probed gently around the edges of the wound, soothing your sparking nerves, even as the blood continued to drip down his throat.

·       When at last, he pulled away, his face was flushed, and his breath came hard; his chest heaving as though he’d just run a great distance. Immediately, his hand shot to his front pocket, fingers searching for the roll of gauze bandages he’s swiped from Cuda’s first-aid kit.

·       He’d wrapped the clean white fabric around your hand with such care it made your heart ache almost as much as the wound itself. When he was finished, he’d flipped your hand over and pressed a gentle kiss against your knuckles. Then, he spoke. His voice was small, barely more than a ragged whisper, “Thank you.”

·       “Was that…was it okay?” Your skin felt feverish, as though the heat of his mouth had seeped into your flesh and was burning you from the inside out. And the dizzy feeling had only grown worse, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut for a long moment.

·       Martin was still struggling to get his breathing under control, “Yes. I-It was good…better than good, actually. But…”

·       “But?” Had you done something wrong? Had you tasted bad after all? You cracked open one eye, then the other. The spinning had mostly subsided, but you still felt unsteady. “What can I do better next time?”

·       He’d gone stiff all over then, and his reply had come sudden and sharp, “No!” He cringed, the force behind his words clearly surprising himself as well. When he spoke again, his voice was softer, “No ‘next time.’ I…I can’t stand hurting you like that. I won’t do it again.”

·       You’d gazed up at him, blinking in confusion for a second. Then you realized what he’d meant—you had flinched when he’d cut you. Oh.

·       You reached up, cupping his cheek, “Oh, Martin. You didn’t hurt me. Not really.” It wasn’t strictly true—it had hurt a little, but you had been prepared for it to. You brushed a stray droplet of blood from the corner of his mouth with a careful swipe of your thumb.

·       “Yes, I did. I saw it.” You had tried to protest further, but he’d cut you off, much to your surprise. Martin almost never talked back like this, though perhaps you’d simply never given him a reason before. “I saw you flinch. I won’t put you through this again.”

·       And he hadn’t. Though you’d brought the idea up more than once, he had dismissed it each time with the same stubborn shake of his head. If Martin was anything, he was true to his word.

·       “…and it’s been such a long time since we heard from the guy.”

·       The DJ hums in agreement, “It has indeed, my friend. Maybe we’ll hear from him later tonight. If you’re out there listening, Count, don’t be a stranger! Give us a call,” He begins rattling off the stations toll-free number. “We’re all dying to hear from you again!”

·       You feel Martin stiffen up against you. You knew about the interviews he had done; you’d even heard one of them, back when Martin was little more to you than a silent, sullen face behind the counter at Cuda’s shop. And even when he’d started talking to you, he sounded different over the radio—his voice was deeper, and he sounded so confidant, so sure of himself when he talked about his ‘sickness.’ He almost never sounded like that in day-to-day life. You weren’t embarrassed to admit you found it attractive.

·       Martin on the other hand, was mortified to know you had heard him. He had known that people were listened to him, obviously, but they were supposed to be strangers. You actually knew him, and he’d talked about sex. Of course, reminding him you’d done a lot more in your time together than simply listen to him talk about sex did little to lessen his horror.

·       Of course, you also knew he’d been doing fewer and fewer interviews now that he had you to talk to and share his life with. But on occasion, when the pleading from the DJ gets too desperate, or he was simply that bored, Martin could be coaxed back onto the other end of the phoneline once again.

·       You glance up at him, but in the darkness, his expression is unreadable, eyes cast down toward the end of the bed, long lashes throwing feathered shadows across his pale cheeks. From the very beginning, he’s been hard to read. As you’ve come to know him better, you’ve needed to get comfortable with the idea of asking when you want to know something you could easily intuit if speaking to anyone else. He’s very good at hiding his thoughts and feelings behind a neutral expression and placid silence, but he would tell you almost anything if you asked him directly; so long as he had the words to explain it to you.

·       Do you want to make a call, Martin?”

·       For a long moment, he’s silent, turning the idea over in his mind a few times. You had never actually been with him when he’d done an interview in the past. He’d usually wait until you were three days deep in an assignment with no quick end in sight, or out of town with family. Maybe he would be too embarrassed to do it with you here or maybe he’s just not in the mood tonight. But, after a minute, he tilts his head down toward you and says, “Why not?”

·       The radio crackles out a jaunty tune—a commercial for some small business or another. “I’ll call in a few minutes. He doesn’t seem busy tonight.” Martin sits up, bracing his back against the headboard of your bed, and dislodging you from your perch. You grumble a little, irritated by the loss of your comfy spot, but you crawl into his lap anyway.

·       You press soft kisses into his skin, beginning at his hairline, and trailing down over his forehead, the bridge of his nose, his cheeks—the right then the left—the very tip of his nose, and finally his lips. He smiles against your mouth, leaning into the kiss with his whole body.

·       When you pull away only a moment later, you can practically hear the pouty turn of his mouth. He whines softly, but you pay him no mind, trailing kisses down his chin. “Are you nervous, Martin?” The question comes out muffled by the soft curve of his jaw.

·       “Not really, no…” He trails off, eyes cast to the ceiling, “I like the attention, I s’pose.”

·       You pull back to look at him, barely stifling a snort of amusement, “Don’t I give you enough?”

·       His eyes slide from the ceiling, falling upon you dark and wide. For a moment, you think he’s taken you seriously, but the pouty turn of his mouth breaks into a blinding grin, “You give me lots, sure, but I’m a creature of the night, remember? We always want more.”

·       The two of you sit there for a moment, gazing into each other’s eyes, the silence stretching on into the night. Then, you collapse into each other in a fit of giggles. Martin buries his head into the crook of your neck, shaking with quiet laughter. Sure, when he’d said wasn’t untrue, but when he put it like that, it was hard not to laugh.

·       “Welcome back, everybody. It’s almost the top of the hour at 01:57! I’m your host Barry…”

·       You hadn’t even heard the ads end! Martin scrambles for the chunky landline phone that rests on the beside table, nimble fingers punching in the numbers at speed. Though his calls had become less and less frequent, he evidently kept the number somewhere in his memory.

·       Martin’s voice is hushed as he speaks to whoever manned the phones down at the radio station, muttering something about ‘the Count.’ As he speaks, he winds the coiled phone cord around a delicate finger. It’s a simple, distracted habit of Martin’s but it makes your heart flutter whenever you catch him doing it.

·       You stretch your arm as far as you can, reaching for the radio, unwilling to give up your perch in Martin’s lap for even a second. Your fingertips brush the cool metal—once, twice—then you manage to curl your fingers around it. Pulling it into your lap you turn the volume down low so only you can hear it.

·       “I’m just getting word that we have a special guest on the line,” the DJ sounds positively elated, “Folks, it looks like the Count is back in town. Hello, Count! Where have ya’ been?”

·       Martin hesitates for a moment, his jaw working as he searches for the words, “Around.”

·       There is a definite lag between the words in his mouth, and those same words coming through the radio. The dissonance confounds your ears and makes your head ache in a dizzy sort of way, but you want to hear both halves of this conversation, not just Martin’s.

·       “So, what trouble have you been getting into since we last spoke, Count? Murdered any pretty ladies recently?”

·       There’s a smile in Martin’s voice, “Not ladies, no.”

·       “Oh really? Any men then?”

Martin glances down at you, though he makes a non-committal noise. The DJ takes a breath, as though he’s going to say something, but Martin cuts him off, “I wouldn’t call what I do murder, anyhow.”

·       “No? But you still need to drink blood, right?”

·       “Oh, yes.”

·       “How have you been getting your food, then? Don’t vampires uh…kill with every strike?”

·       Martin laughs, a soft, breathy sound that sends a shudder through you. “I’ve been managing.” His tone is damn near conversational. You gaze down at him, marvelling at how easy this seems to be for him. The Martin you’ve come to know and love rarely (if ever) speaks to strangers, and when he has no other choice, he’s never this talkative. It’s strange, but by no means an unwelcome change. You nuzzle against him, letting his voice thrum through your skull as it vibrates around in his chest.

·       “Enough talk of blood and guts, Count. What about your other problems, huh? Tell me, are the streets of Braddock safe at last from the real terror stalking them? Have you…” He pauses conspiratorially, “Found yourself a girl yet?”

·       Those words drive an icy spike of hurt deep into your guts. No, he had not found himself a girl. Martin must have felt your jaw clenching, as his free hand begins to card through your hair—soothing and soft.

·       “I’ve found…someone.” The implications of that word settles you almost as much as his touch. ‘Someone.’ Not a woman, but someone of significance, nonetheless. He bends down to press a quick kiss into the crown of your head. “Someone special.”

·       The DJ gasps, sounding scandalized. “Someone special! Well, I never. Good for you, Count.” You can’t say you’re a fan of the man’s tone—pleasant enough, but with a sharp edge that borders on condescending. But there’s little you can do but grit your teeth and bear it. “How long until you suck this one dry and move on?”

·       Wow. Fuck this guy. On some level, you’d known he was an asshole—sure you felt bad for him when people were rude, but he could dish it out just as well as he could take it. Every once in a while, he’d push a caller too hard or make a snide comment the conversation could have done without. You didn’t like hearing it when strangers were involved, and now that you were the subject of such a comment, you like it even less. He makes it sound like you’re some random conquest, or worse, little more than a meal to Martin. How wrong he was.

·       Suck this one dry and move on? Fat chance, Buddy. Though, his wording did give you an idea…maybe you could make this night just a little more interesting for the both of you.

You sit back, uncurling your legs and dropping your knees to either side of Martin’s hips, straddling his lap properly. Settling your weight back into his lap, you pull a face, pointing to the radio in your lap and mouthing, ‘What a jaggoff!’

·       Martin’s lips press into a thin line as he tries to stifle his laughter. He nods sympathetically but doesn’t say anything about it to the DJ. He’s slow to anger, preferring to divert the conversation rather than cause a scene. You can’t help but admire him for that. You lean forward, stamping a kiss against his collarbone.

·       “I…uh…try not to eat the things I love.”

·       “Ooooh, so it’s love, huh?”

·       You roll your eyes at the DJ, though you can’t deny hearing Martin say he loves you sends a little thrill through you—it was the same thrill you’d felt the first time he had said it to you, and the same thrill you hoped to feel for years to come. You trail little, open-mouthed kisses up the column of Martin’s throat, your mouth feverishly warm against his skin. A shudder jolts through him like an electric shock as your teeth scape across his Adam’s apple. You grin against his flesh, sliding up to nip along the underside of his jaw. There is a sensitive spot at the very corner that you love to exploit, and now seems like the perfect opportunity to do so.

·       Your teeth graze over the spot and his body jitters beneath you. His voice catches in his throat, though if the DJ notices, he doesn’t comment. You nip gently at the spot, reddening the pale skin as you worry it with your teeth. You long to suck a bruise there—the purple-blue hue would doubtless look stunning against the pallor of his skin, but you knew Cuda would have a conniption if he saw it, and you didn’t want to put Martin through that again. Not after last time. The pair of you had agreed that perhaps in future, it would be better if any hickeys you left remained under your clothes.

·       Pressing one final kiss against that spot, you pull back to look at him. You can tell he’s getting flustered—there’s a flush beginning to creep up his neck from beneath the collar of his t-shirt, deep pink and blotchy. You know, given time, it will reach his cheeks, the colour blooming high on his cheekbones. When you get him worked up enough, you could make Martin blush to the very tips of his ears. It was adorable.

·       Your fingers dig into the fabric of his shirt as you drag your nails down his chest. His teeth catch his lower lip. You can almost hear the whine trapped behind those pearly teeth.

·       “Why don’t you tell us a little about this special someone, Count?”

·       Martin hesitates, “I don’t know about that.”

·       “Nonsense! You can tell your good ol’ pal Barry. Who am I gonna tell?”

·       Martin isn’t that stupid. He knows Barry doesn’t need to tell anyone anything—he’s live on air, he’d be telling them himself. His eyes flick down to yours, searching for something, be it permission or resistance. He pulls the phone away from his ear, resting it against his shoulder as he waits for you to make up your mind. You know he’d hang up in an instant if you asked him to—he’d likely do you one better and never call in again if the DJ was just going to ask questions about you all night long. But you trusted Martin not to give too much information away—he’d managed to stay hidden all this time, after all.

·       You nodded at him, smiling and thumbing gently over a nipple. Though your touch is light, and the sensation is dampened by the fabric of his shirt, Martin makes a sound as though he’s been punched in the stomach. He shifts beneath you, tucking the phone underneath his chin as he moves.

·       You grip the striped fabric of his shirt, working it in your hands. You lift it a little, fingers slipping just beneath it to splay against the flat plane of his stomach. His skin is warm and soft beneath your hands. You look down at him, arching a brow and asking for permission with only your eyes.

·       “Fine.” He says, and though the word is an answer for the DJ’s pleading, he’s talking to you, looking directly into your eyes—granting the permission you were so hoping for.

·       “Great! So, how long have you been together?”

·       You fall into him, hands pushing the soft cotton of his shirt up over his chest. Your lips are on his skin in a matter of seconds, trailing kisses across every inch of exposed skin—stomach, ribs, hips, and everything in between.

·       “It’s been ahh—” His words are cut short by a tight little moan as you bite down hard just below his left nipple. However, he manages a solid recovery as your tongue laves over the spot soothing the sting, playing the whole thing off as though he had needed time to stop and think about it, “—bout a year, maybe a little longer.”

·       Clever boy.

·       You drag your tongue a little higher, flicking over the sensitive skin of his nipple. He arches into your touch, hips canting up against yours, threatening to buck you from your perch. He tilts his head, trapping the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, reaching for you with both hands.

·       He takes your cheeks into his hands, pulling your head away from his chest. You grin up at him, taking in his expression—his pupils blown so wide with want they swallow all but the slimmest ring of brown iris, his lips parted and shining in the semi-darkness, flushed to the tips of his ears.

·       You surge up to kiss him, remembering only at the last moment, he needs to keep his mouth free to carry on the conversation. With a huff, you divert your course, and fix your lips back against the skin of Martin’s neck.

·       He swallows hard as you press your lips back against his pulse, pushing his hips back up into yours. You can’t keep the grin form your face as you feel him pressing up against you—the outline in his pants far more noticeable now.

·       His hands tremble slightly as they search for yours, dragging them down to the front of his jeans. You grin widens as you press down. Even through the thick denim, you can feel his cock throb under your palm. Someone’s excited.

·       You look down at him and he turns his head away, flushing a shade darker. He was so easy to wind up like this, it was almost unbelievable. A few kisses here, and gentle touch there, and he was a blushing, whining mess spread out on your sheets for you to enjoy however your pleased. You had chalked the over-sensitivity up to a lack of experience, and had expected it to fade after a few months, but it hadn’t. He was just that reactive, not that you were complaining.

·       With deft fingers, you pop the button of his jeans, quietly dragging the zipper down. He lifts his hips, wriggling helpfully as you drag his pants and underwear down over his thighs.

·       His cock bobs free, flushed and leaking already. You ghost the pads of your fingers over the soft skin of his shaft, and he shudders, his whole body tensing. His knuckles are white where he grips the phone, and his jaw is tight with the struggle of keeping quiet.

·       You wrap your hand around him, stroking gently from base to tip. His back arches off from the headboard, and he falls forward, burying his head in the crook of your neck. The phone receiver bumps against your collarbone, hard and hollow. The plastic is pleasantly cool against your feverish skin.

·       “Is it different being with a…uh…forgive the expression, normal person?”

·       “They’re a…” His laugh is breathy, almost a moan as he glances down at you, “a real handful.”

·       You barely stifle a laugh. You glare down at him in mock disapproval, and he sticks his tongue out at you. Cheeky little bastard. Though the colour still sits high on his cheeks, and his breathing comes through parted lips in short puffs, he seems to have adjusted well to your pace.

·       “Nothing you can’t handle though, I’m sure. Do they know about your…condition, shall we say?”

·       “They are aware, yes.”

·       The DJ laughs, “And how did that go? Can’t be an easy thing to hear—that your boyfriend might vamp out and eat you whole!”

·       Martin sighs, “I already told you, I don’t eat people…” His voice is much steadier now, even as your fingers brush along the sensitive spots on the underside of his cock. That means its time to switch things up. You can’t have him getting too comfortable. Where would the fun be in that? You tighten your grip—something that usually makes Martin thrash against the sheets and sob into your pillows—and begin to swipe your thumb gently over the tip of his cock with every upward stroke. He almost drops the phone as he yanks it away from his mouth. He covers the receiver with a shaking hand just in time, as a soft whine slips through his teeth, “Oh, fuck…”

·       You press a finger up against your lips, reminding him to be quiet. He presses up into your fist, his hips stuttering as your thumb traces a lazy circle around his head. His free hand flutters nervously about his mouth, as he tries desperately to keep quiet. His breath comes sharp and quick though his nose as he struggles to keep control. You shift your weight, pinning his hips back down with your thighs, and though he tries to buck back up against you, you hold him firmly in place. He whines high in his throat, shooting a pleading look up at you, but you just shake your head and point at the phone, ‘Keep going.’

·       Slowly, Martin brings the receiver back up to his ear. His tongue flickers out over his lips and he lets out a shaky breath, “S-Sorry, I didn’t catch that?”

·       “I said, ‘let’s circle back to what you said before,’ about not eating what you love. Why not? If you don’t need to kill to feed, why not feed on this special someone? Surely if they love you back, they’d be willing.”

·       You slow your hand, wanting to give Martin a fighting chance at answering. You were momentarily intrigued by the DJ’s line of questioning. You knew why Martin didn’t want to feed on you, but you were curious as to what sort of excuse he would give.

·       “W-Well…it’s come up mo-ore than once but…” Martin goes silent as you squeeze down on him, his posture going rigid, his head thrown back against the headboard.

·       The DJ lets the silence hang for a moment, but when Martin doesn’t finish his thought, he cuts in, “But…? You still there, Count?”

·       You let up, and Martin takes a big gulp of air, as though he had only just remembered he needed to breathe. “Y-Yeah, I’m here. It’s…it’s complicated.”

·       “Oh yeah? How?”

·       “Well, it’s not about whether they’ll let me or not…” He takes a shaky breath, his eyes fluttering closed for a moment as he steadies himself. When he speaks again, his voice is low, barely more than a whisper, “It’s that I want more.”

·       He tries in vain to buck up into your fist, his hips rolling in shallow, abortive little thrusts. His teeth are sunk into his lower lip, his eyes boring deep into your own.

·       ‘I want more.’ Those words were meant for you.

·       You blink down at him, momentarily dumb founded. Then a grin spreads across your face, sharp and hungry. If he wants more, you’ll give it to him—you’d give it to him until he was begging you to stop.

·       Sliding down his body, you know this is risky. Martin has never been good at keeping quiet, especially not when you’ve got your mouth on him. But the idea is simply too enticing to pass up on. When were you ever going to get the change to suck his cock live on air again? Besides, this might be good practice for him in the art of keeping his voice down—not that you didn’t love to hear him, it just might be nice to keep your…activities a secret from the whole neighbourhood for once.

·       You wriggle down onto your stomach, bringing your face level with Martin’s cock. Settling yourself into a comfortable position between his knees, you bend your head, pressing a gentle kiss against the tip of his cock.

·       He makes an involuntary choking sound in the back of his throat. You look up at him, resting your chin on the tops of his thighs. You want to give him the time he needs to make up his mind. If he tells you ‘no,’ or pushes you away, you’d gladly go back to stroking his cock and kissing his neck. You would get just as much pleasure from the shivers and whimpers you could wring out of him that way.

·       But he doesn’t tell you no, rather he pushes his hips up against you, pressing the tip hard against your lips. You flick your tongue out, ghosting for only a moment over his sensitive flesh, but it’s enough to make his eyes roll back, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks. You do it again, and his mouth falls open. Though no sound escapes the look on his face is just as glorious.

·       This is going to be fun.

·       You crane your neck, opening your mouth and gently taking the head inside.  Martin’s free hand shoots to his mouth, and he bites down hard on the meat of his palm to stop himself from sobbing out loud. You press your tongue flat against him, dragging it slowly against his hot flesh. He thrashes beneath you, jostling the phone against his cheek.

·       Carefully, you sink further down on him, taking him in inch by inch. He lets out a long sigh around a mouthful of palm.

·       “What was that, Count?”

·       “Oohh…nothing,” Martin grinds out, “Just…closing a window.”

·       The lie was flimsy, but the DJ, despite his skeptical tone, didn’t seem interested in pressed him on it further, “…Right…so how is your control around this person, huh? Do you ever get the urge to just go to town on them?”

·       Martin’s laugh comes out as a low purr, and he bucks into your mouth once, “Mmm, sometimes.” Ever so slowly, as you’ve sunk down onto his cock, he’s been curling in on himself. His head now rests atop your own, and you can feel the heat of his cheek radiating against your scalp. If that heat is anything to go by, he must be positively scarlet.

·       “And what does that entail for you exactly?”

·       With a little jolt, his cock brushes up against the back of your throat. You swallow down a little choking noise, breathing steadily through your nose in an attempt to calm your gag reflex.

·       The warmth of Martin’s cheeks is suddenly gone as he straightens up again. His head hits the headboard with a thump. “I-I just wanna…” He swallows thickly, his breath coming hard, “Push into…p-push my teeth into their throat and just,” He bucks up into your throat, either unable, or simply unwilling to stay still any longer, “just take what I want.”

·       “Their…blood?”

·       You swallow around Martin and his back arches so far he practically lifts off the bed “Yes! Yes, everything they have to give!”

·       “Right…for a moment there it sounded a bit more, uh, sexually motivated than that.”

·       Again, your throat contracts around him, and a hiss of air escapes through his teeth, “No difference really…”

·       The DJ is silent for a moment, “Now that’s an interesting tidbit about you, Count. I’m sure all the ladies out there would love to hear more about that.”

·       Marin fucks up into your throat again with a soft groan, “I’m…I’m sure they would but,” His breath is coming harder now, “unfortunately, I’m taken.”

·       The DJ laughs, “Hear that, Count? That’s the sound of hundreds of hearts all over Braddock breaking. Sorry, folks but it looks like you’re out of luck.”

·       Oh. He’s taken alright. You can just imagine the anguished looks on their faces when you learn he gets taken almost every other night by another man.

·       Though you’d love to keep him in this position, you’re struck by the sudden, possessive urge to have him on his back. You tap his thigh thrice in quick succession and Martin withdraws almost immediately. He’s always so respectful of your wishes, even if he whines a little when his cock slips from the wet heat of your mouth. The sudden chill of the air on his wet cock sends a shiver through him.

·       You scoot back, grabbing Martin by the calves, and pulling him down into a more horizontal position. He fumbles with the phone, as it slips from his grasp, landing on the bed near his shoulder.

·       “What’s going on, Count?”

·       “S-Sorry, I just…I just dropped the phone is all. I’m…I’m feeling awful shaky these days.”

·       “Oh, yeah? How long has it been?”

·       Martin’s tone is distracted, “Ages.” He is far more focused on you, his dark eyes trained on yours as you loom over him.

·       The DJ asks another question, but you’re not listening as you slip Martin’s slick cock into your mouth, wasting no time in taking him back into your throat where he belongs.

·       Though you can’t make out his words so well over the rushing in your ears, Martin’s voice sounds strained, slightly higher than usual. He’s fighting the pleasure hard.

·       His free hand fists itself in your hair, pushing you down tighter against his cock. You swallow hard, trying desperately not to gag as he rolls is hips into your mouth. He’s come such a long way since the first time you asked him to fuck your mouth. He’d been so nervous that you did most of the work, bobbing your head faster and faster until he’d spilled deep into your mouth. He had apologized for almost an hour after, thinking the rasp in your voice was all his fault. Now? He’s practically asphyxiating you, and you hadn’t needed to say a word.

·       Martin is shaking—his thighs tremble on either side of your head, and the phone in his hands nearly slips from his grasp again with the force of the tremors passing through him.

·       You hollow your cheeks and he’s forced to cover the receiver again as a series of whimpers tear free from his lips. You press your tongue flat against the underside of his cock, and he sobs, his hips canting up off the bed.

·       “I-I’m close,” His frantic whisper comes tight through his teeth, an edge bordering on panic creeping into his voice. You grip his thigh and redouble your efforts, gaining a high whine in return.

·       “Hey, Count? Count there’s a lot of interference on your end…I can’t really hear you. I think this is where this conversation has to end, but call back another night, huh?” Martin doesn’t even respond, he simply slams the receiver back into the cradle, ending the call.

·       Almost as soon as the call has disconnected, he’s a whimpering mess. “Oh, fuck! Your mouth…I-I can’t! Is it okay? Is it okay if I…?”

·       He can’t bring himself to say it, but you know what he means and hum a soft affirmation around his cock. He cries out as the sound vibrates around his over-sensitive flesh.

·       With a whimper, he fucks up into your mouth, once, twice, then he shudders, his whole body going rigid as he cums. His knees clamp around your ears, squeezing your head as he shakes with the pleasure. His fingers pull at your hair, any tighter and you’re sure he’ll pull some out. But you press on, hollowing your cheeks, letting him ride the high for as long as he can.

·       The sound he makes as you swallow around him is nothing short of wrecked. His fingers claw the sheets as though he’s trying to drag himself away from you, from your mouth, but his body remains locked in place beneath you.

·       His cock twitches against your tongue as you slowly pull back, the wet drag of your tongue digging raw little whimpers from his throat, and a shudder passed through him when you pull of and his cock is again exposed to the chilly air of the room. His hips press forward, seeking the tight heat of your throat again. It would seem almost desperate if the motion wasn’t so sluggish, almost sleepy.  

·       He reaches for you then in the dark. His hands, hot and sweaty from exertion and gripping both the phone and the sheets for so long, grasp either side of your face as he pulls you up for a kiss.

·       The salty taste of his cum still coats your tongue, but he doesn’t seem to care as he presses his lips against yours with a desperation you rarely see in him.

·       Pulling back, you whisper against his lips, “Was that enough attention?”

·       He smiles, “For me? Yes.” He presses another soft kiss against your lips. “But now it’s your turn.”