#so i made a convenient list

[darcyfirth]

finished reading another book for this year 🥳

[nanamiskentos]

MAMA, A DIVA BEHIND YOU! — toji fushiguro sfw!

prologue. → toji loves his son, he really does. unfortunately, young megumi is less than receptive when it comes to toji's efforts to impress the pretty neighbour who just moved into the apartment down the hall.

or five times megumi actively made toji's love life worse. and the one time he actually helped.

pairing. toji fushiguro x afab!reader

warnings. megumi is his own warning. mild age gap implied. non sorcerer au, toji is raising megumi on his own. reader has she/her pronouns. nothing else, just shenanigans :) toji gets knocked down a few pegs by his son 😭 mildly ooc toji <3

word count. song inspiration. paper rings — taylor swift

a/n. this is sooo silly and for fun lol 😭 i feel like you can tell this just isn't my genre or writing style 😭

mp3. i like shiny things, but i'd marry you with paper rings <3

TOJI FUSHIGURO didn't have a lot of treasures in life. he just wasn't that type of guy. treasures were for people with their lives together — the kind who budgeted for organic vegetables and owned matching socks. toji's list of prized possessions was short: a semi-reliable pay check, a fridge that kept his beer cold on a good day, and the one channel that aired late-night baseball games.

oh, and his kid. megumi fushiguro.

the little brat was the one thing in toji's life he could call a blessing without choking on the word. but lately? toji was seriously considering the logistics of international shipping. could you send a five year old punk to siberia? where was the paperwork for that?

everything had been fine. hell, downright manageable. until you moved in down the hall.

at first, toji didn't give a fuck. neighbours were usually either noisy or nosy, and sometimes the tragic combination of both. the last guy had banged on his door at least once a week, yelling about toji's late-night weightlifting sessions and muttering something about 'quiet hours.'

toji had pegged you for the same. maybe with a yoga met and too many scented candles.

but then, you showed up on his doorstep with a kind smile that could probably light up half the districts in the city. and a polite, sweet, "excuse me, but could you help me with my bed frame?"

and that was it.

the universe must've been real bored, because that was the moment it decided that toji fushiguro — self proclaimed expert on not giving a damn, was going to lose his damn mind like cupid has struck him with the painful arrows of a crush. and he was a goner.

take #1 — my neck, my back

spring in tokyo had come into full bloom, the kind of day where the air smelled faintly of sunshine, and the cherry blossoms drifted around like lazy, little freeloaders. below the apartment complex, the park wasn't much to write home about — a scrappy patch of grass, a couple of benches that looked like they'd seen some shit, and a swing set that squeaked like it had a vendetta against joy.

but for toji? it was good enough.

he'd figured this 'let me show you around because i'm so friendly' outing would be low effort. easy. casual and neighbourly, even. except now, he was leaning against a tree which was far harder than it sounded when his lower back was screaming at him louder than megumi had this morning about brushing his teeth.

but you stood nearby, smiling that damn warm and disarming smile of yours, gently plucking a stray blossom from megumi's messy hair. the kid, for his part, was pointedly ignoring you both, kicking rocks with the type of dedication usually reserved for a brat trying to avoid his homework.

toji cleared his throat, "so, uh, the area's not bad. quiet most of the time. that convenience store over there's open late. great for snacks. or milk. y'know, the owner's a bit of a bitc —"

"why are you standing like that?"

megumi's voice cut through his rehearsed tour like a rusty knife.

toji shot him a sharp glance. a look that screamed: keep your mouth shut, kid.

megumi just tilted his head, all faux innocence, and then delivered the killing blow with those sea-green eyes gleaming in what toji was certain was pure maliciousness, "dad, your back hurts again, doesn’t it?"

toji froze, scrambling for damage control, but you were already pressing your lips together, trying not to laugh. trying. but he could see the corners of your mouth twitching.

"back's fine," toji huffed, straightening up too fast. something in his spine must have popped loud enough to startle a crow off a branch, "solid a rock, hah! good as new."

megumi glanced at his scuffed sneakers, and then back up, "you said it was hard getting off the couch this morning. didn't you say you're old now and falling apart?"

toji's entire soul left his body. the punk was a traitor to a family name. he should have just sent megumi back to the clan long ago.

"don't you have a rock to kick?" he hissed.

"already did all that."

and that was it. your laugh finally burst out, bright and loud, ringing through the little patch of a park. toji found himself staring at you like some idiot in a rom-com who’d just realised he was completely doomed.

"kids, huh?" he muttered, throwing megumi a glare that promised revenge.

"kids," you agreed, eyes still sparkling as you excused yourself, something about leaving a pot on the stove. you gave toji one last look as you turned to go, warm and soft with that lingering amusement.

toji leaned back against the tree once you were gone, letting out a long sigh. megumi was still standing there, kicking the same patch of dirt, as though he were trying to discover unseen archaeological wonders underneath the earth.

"you're lucky i don’t sell you to a circus," toji grumbled under his breath.

megumi didn’t even look up, "you wouldn’t get that much for me."

smart-ass kid.

take #2 — the liar's pants are blazing on fire

walking someone home shouldn't have felt like scaling mount fuji, but toji fushiguro was now sweating bullet. the evening was crisp, the air cool enough to keep him from outright drowning in these stupid nerves, but it helped little.

the streetlights flickered on one by one, casting a faint yellow glow over the neighbourhood. nothing fancy — just rows of small apartments with laundry dangling off balconies and the occasional stray cat darting under parked car. it wasn't exactly romantic, but in the soft glow of the spring, it didn't look that bad.

you walked besides him, laughing at some half-assed joke he'd cracked earlier. and damn, toji liked that sound. more than he should've. more than he'd admit to anyone, including himself. now though, the silence had crept back in, and he was left psyching himself up for the move.

just hold her hand, his brain hissed, it's not rocket science. come on, man. no! wait, give her a compliment, call her hot. ugh, idiot. don't say that yet -

his thick fingers flexed awkwardly at this side as he tried to look natural. a valiant losing battle when every nerve in his body screamed, you have one job, fushiguro. don't ruin this.

"dad!"

toji's head snapped up like a startled animal, and there he was. megumi. his kid. his little shadow. gasping, clutching his throat, and staggering toward them like a samurai dying in glorious battle.

"dad! i — i can't breathe!" megumi wheezed, voice raspy as he doubled over in dramatic agony.

toji blinked. what the —

"i think i'm dying!" megumi croaked, collapsing onto the sidewalk with all the subtlety of a boulder tumbling down a hill.

toji sighed, already pinching the bridge of his nose. should’ve known. thid kid had been hanging around that white-haired freak downstairs too much. what had that gojo satoru been teaching him? shakespearean death monologues?

"what is it this time?" toji asked flatly, his voice like gravel.

"maybe, maybe it's the peanuts!" megumi sputtered, clutching his chest now, because why not? "the ones i ate at home! i think i'm allergic!"

toji stared at him, unimpressed. this was the same kid who could inhale salted peanuts by the handful, barely pausing for air, like he was training for some bizarre snack-eating championship.

"you're not allergic," toji deadpanned.

"i think i am!" megumi wheezed, dropping to his knees, his little hands shaking dramatically.

"oh my god!" you gasped, wide-eyed. "should we — i mean, do we need to take him to the hospital? i can drive —"

toji waved a rough hand, trying to salvage what little dignity he had left, "nah, kid’s fine. just go on home. i'll handle this."

"but —"

"it's fine," toji insisted, forcing what he hoped was a reassuring smile, even as megumi collapsed onto the pavement like he’d been struck by lightning.

you had hesitated, clearly torn, but eventually nodded, "okay… but call me if you need anything, okay?"

toji nodded, biting back the heat threatening to crawl up his neck. "yeah, yeah. go on."

the second you turned the corner, toji crouched next to his "dying" son, who immediately cracked one eye open and coughed weakly for good measure.

"what the hell was that?" toji grunted, "what did i say about huffing gasoline in the laundry?"

"don't do it."

toji flicked the punk's forehead, "mhm, so?"

megumi shrugged, sitting up and dusting off his pants. "thought i was allergic."

"to peanuts? that shit you eat everyday?"

"better safe than sorry, dad."

toji huffed, ruffling a hand through his choppy black hair. he glanced in the direction you’d gone, muttering under his breath, "you're lucky you’re cute, kid."

the next morning, toji opened his door to find a basket sitting on the mat. a pristine, gingham-lined basket packed with golden, buttery pastries and muffins that smelled like heaven. attached was a note:

for megumi! i hope he’s feeling better!

karmic justice demanded that toji sit down, scarf it entirely, and leave nothing but crumbs for the little brat. he'd earned that much.

take #3 — they didn't get my nose right!

toji fushiguro didn’t get flustered easily. fights? He could eat a punch for breakfast. bills? well, avoidance was a valid financial strategy. but you, sitting on his couch, smiling at him like you’d never met a red flag you didn’t want to rehabilitate, while unpacking groceries for him and megumi? that was uncharted territory.

terrifying.

the apartment was...presentable. which was more than he could say ten minutes before you arrived, when he'd barked at megumi like a drill sergeant to hide every suspicious stain and questionable stack of dishes. now, the faint sting of cleaning spray lingered in the air, and the tiny place almost looked cozy. not that toji would admit it.

"you didn’t have to bring anything," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

"oh, it's no trouble!" you chirped, beaming like some kind of saint. "i thought you and megumi might like some fresh vegetables. and i couldn’t resist grabbing some sweets for him."

from the corner of the room, megumi's ears perked up at sweets. he dropped the crayon he’d been chewing (toji pretended not to see it) and padded over, all innocent wide eyes and suspiciously good behaviour.

"dad," megumi started, his tone way too angelic for a kid who regularly schemed like a demonic manga villain, “can i show her my drawing?"

toji utterly froze.

megumi never asked to show off his drawings. usually, he just thrust them into unsuspecting hands like a nosy salesman who couldn't take no for an answer. this? this was premeditated.

"uh," toji grunted, squinting at the kid. "maybe later. she’s busy."

but you, bless your overly trusting heart, smiled and said, "oh, i'd love to see it! i'm sure it's adorable."

toji didn’t even have time to stop him. megumi whipped out a crumpled paper from his pocket like he was smuggling state secrets and handed it to you with an air of triumph.

you unfolded it carefully, and toji wanted to crawl into the walls.

there it was: a chaotic, technicolor mess of lines and smudges.

and centre stage?

a terrifyingly accurate caricature of him labeled "dad," locked in what could only be described as a life-or-death struggle with a rabid raccoon twice his size. above his head, a speech bubble screamed, "no!" while the raccoon yelled back, "mine!"

toji groaned so loud it could’ve registered on the richter scale, "kid. seriously?"

your laughter was instant and loud, the kind that made you clutch your sides and tear up. "this — oh my god, this is amazing!" you wheezed, doubling over.

"it’s not even accurate," toji muttered, crossing his arms, his biceps straining against his shirt like they were trying to leave this embarrassing moment behind. "i won."

"dad didn’t win," megumi piped up, as smug as a kid who’d just blown up his old man’s spot in front of a pretty lady, "the raccoon stole the chips."

"megumi," toji growled, pinning him with a glare that would’ve made lesser beings tremble. the kid just shrugged, popping another crayon into his mouth like this was all part of his five-year master plan.

later, after you’d left, still giggling and promising to "treasure" the drawing, toji leaned over the kitchen table where megumi was innocently snacking on his candy.

'kid," toji said, his voice low and dangerous, "if you ever pull something like that again, i’ll eat your crayons. one by one. and i'll make you watch."

megumi didn’t even flinch, cool as a cucumber, "good luck. i hid all the good ones."

take #4 — take your broke ass home!

the neighborhood festival was the kind of event that came together with duct tape and misplaced enthusiasm. a few janky game booths, a cotton candy machine that looked like it ran on prayers, and a ferris wheel that creaked like it was auditioning for a horror movie. but toji didn’t mind. he had a plan.

this was going to be his moment.

he invited you under the pretense of "fun time" for megumi, but really, it was to show you what a catch he was. buff, capable, ruggedly charming — he was ready to prove it all. what better way than with a little festival bravado? he’d win you a giant stuffed panda or one of those oversized bears that could double as a couch. easy.

you and megumi stood by a booth plastered with painted bullseyes, rows of rubber balls stacked neatly on the counter. toji rolled up his sleeves, flexing his arms just enough to catch your attention. he reached into his pocket, pulling out a wad of crumpled cash like he was buying the entire festival, "watch this."

from beside him, megumi crossed his arms. his eyes squinted with the kind of judgment only an six-year-old could muster. then, like a sniper, he fired off the line that would ruin toji's day.

"careful, dad," megumi said, voice loud enough to turn a few heads. "that’s our grocery money for the week."

toji froze mid-reach for the first ball and his jaw clenched. slowly, painfully, he turned to face megumi, who was standing there with a look of angelic smugness.

"megumi," toji growled through gritted teeth, "let's remember who brought you here."

megumi didn’t miss a beat, "oh, right. i'm just worried that dinner tomorrow is soy sauce soup."

"kid’s got jokes," toji muttered, rubbing the back of his neck, his cocky energy now entirely replaced by something closer to "please make this stop."

"oh, i don’t think he’s joking," you teased, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from laughing too hard.

"yeah, definitely not joking," megumi deadpanned, "dad’s gonna start eating protein powder straight from the jar."

"megumi," toji barked, praying for divine intervention that would include his son being carried off by a stork, "you’re grounded."

"for what? telling the truth?"

before toji could escalate into full-on dad-mode, the game attendant — clearly desperate to avoid whatever domestic drama was brewing, handed toji a stuffed panda.

"here, sir, on the house," he said with a strained smile, like he was hoping toji wouldn’t throw a ball through the booth.

toji grabbed the panda and shoved it into your hands with all the grace of a man trying to save face, "here. told you i'd win ya something."

you had just hugged the panda, still grinning ear to ear, "who knew you had a sweet spot? i'll cherish it forever, especially after hearing how hard you worked for it."

megumi, the little bastard, had already wandered off to scope out the cotton candy stand.

toji watched him go, then glanced at you, feeling oddly resigned, "i’m never bringing him to one of these again."

"oh, come on," you said, nudging him playfully, "i'm glad we came. this was fun. besides, he's a sweet kid."

he wondered if you were half-blind, but held his tongue. instead toji groaned, rubbing his temples, 'kid’s not eating for a week."

take #5 — brought the heat back!

it was a quiet thursday evening, the kind of night that lured people into thinking life wasn’t a complete dumpster fire. the sky was fading into a smug sort of pink, and a light breeze was making it just nice enough to forget toji's apartment was a little too warm because he’d cheaped out on air conditioning.

you’d accepted his invitation for dinner, and now here he was, a grown man trying to pretend he wasn’t about to impress the hell out of you with his cooking.

see, toji wasn’t just some dude who could barely boil water. nah, this man knew his way around the kitchen — specifically around a bowl of spicy curry that could win hearts. but he couldn’t let you know that.

toji liked to think that he had a reputation to uphold: rough around the edges, dangerously hot, and way too casual about everything.

so when you walked in, he scratched the back of his head like he’d just thrown the recipe together from a vague memory, muttering, "i dunno, figured i'd try somethin’ new. if it’s bad, there’s takeout."

except this wasn’t new. toji knew exactly what he was doing. his curry was legendary in very specific circles — namely, his own ego.

meanwhile, megumi was hanging around the kitchen like a suspicious little gargoyle, all quiet and sneaky-eyed. that should’ve been the first warning sign.

and when dinner was served, toji had to admit it, it looked perfect. rich, golden curry with just the right balance of spice, heat curling off the plates like a victory lap. hah, an easy win.

you had taken a polite bite, smiling at first. until your face suddenly froze like you'd just been slapped by a fire demon.

"what, it's too spicy?" toji asked, as he watched you struggle to smile. your lips twitching like they were trying to run away.

"no, no!" you wheezed, "it's — it's really good. just got a lil' kick to it, that's all!"

kick? toji blinked. you looked as though you had been delivering a roundhouse to the face.

suspicious now, he scooped up a big bite himself. the moment it hit his tongue, he nearly choked. his sinuses exploded, his tongue went numb, and he could feel sweat instantly forming on his brow.

"what the fuck," he sputtered, slamming down his fork and lunging for his water. toji guzzled it like a man who’d just escaped a desert, while you valiantly kept nibbling as though your dignity depended on it.

megumi, sitting way too calmly at the table, didn’t even flinch. he was eating like the curry was perfectly fine, which made it even worse. this little freak.

toji squinted at his only child, "megumi. what did you do?"

"nothing," the kid said, wide-eyed and dripping with fake innocence. too fake, tsk, toji knew that look. "just...helped with the seasoning."

toji’s stomach dropped, as his blood pressure rose, "how much seasoning?"

megumi shrugged, stabbing at his rice like he wasn’t actively committing a felony, "i dunno. a lot. jus' wanted to be helpful, dad."

"y'trying to kill me? her? yourself?!"

you laughed nervously through the pain, "ah, toji. it’s really not that bad —"

"don’t lie, doll" toji snapped, shooting you a look, "sweatin' like you ran a marathon."

"so are you!" you shot back, snickering. and you weren’t wrong. toji's forehead looked like he’d just finished a full-body workout.

megumi leaned back in his chair, chewing slowly, and said with an infuriating amount of smugness, "i like spicy food."

toji pointed at him, wondering if it would be easier to pick up the kid and launch him out the window, "you better start liking ramen, ‘cause that’s all you’re eating for the next week."

"fine with that," megumi said, clearly unbothered, "isn't that what i eat all the time anyway?”

toji groaned, dragging a hand through his messy hair, which now stuck to his forehead in sweaty, choppy strands.hHe turned to you, desperate for some kind of redemption. "this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. it’s normally amazing. i swear."

"it’s fine," you laughed, even as you sipped water like your life depended on it. "honestly, i think it’s kinda cute."

that threw him for a loop. "cute? what’s cute about this? i just served you a bowl of liquid hell."

you grinned, a little too amused for his liking. "it’s the effort."

toji, for once in his life, had no comeback. he just sighed, defeated, and grabbed his phone to order takeout. megumi, meanwhile, looked entirely too pleased with himself, even lifting the bowl to his lips to smack away the remnants of the soup that he slurped.

interlude: the peace talks

you’re standing outside toji's dingy apartment building, where even the cracks in the walls look like they’ve seen some things. you’re not entirely sure why you’re here. okay, that’s a lie. you’re absolutely sure— it’s because of him. that rough-edged, broad-shouldered man who can bench press your common sense into oblivion. but of course, you’re telling yourself it’s "just to check in."

totally innocent.

you knock. a few beats of silence, then the door creaks open just wide enough for a face to peek out. it's megumi fushiguro, toji's odd kid, and his expression already screams ugh. the kind of look that says, "what does this clown want?"

"uh, hi," you say, suddenly unsure if you’re allowed to be nervous around a first grader, "is toji here?"

megumi stares at you like you just asked if the sky was plaid, "nope," he says flatly, but doesn’t move. he keeps the door partially open, like he’s either waiting for you to leave or deciding if you’re even worth his time.

"oh. okay, that's fine, i'll just —" you motion vaguely toward the stairs, already regretting this whole situation. but then the kid speaks up.

"why do you wanna see him?" his tone is casual, but his eyes? sharp like sea-glass. too sharp for someone so young. he’s leaning on the doorframe now.

you blink, mind going blank.

"i don’t...i mean, i was just dropping by to say hi. that’s all."

megumi tilts his head, scrutinising you like you’re a suspect in a crime only he knows about, "do you like my dad?"

you choke on what must be your last breath on this earth, "what?! no! i mean, what are you even saying, he's..."

you’re spiralling, and megumi's smug little smirk says he knows it. He’s enjoying this way too much.

"sure," he says with a shrug, stepping back into the apartment. he leaves the door wide open like it’s an invitation — or maybe a saw trap. against your better judgment, you follow him in.

megumi plops down on the couch, picking up a laptop like you’re not even there, "you’re not the first," he mutters without looking up.

"what’s that supposed to mean?" you ask, trying to sound casual but failing miserably.

he shrugs again, still not meeting your gaze, "just saying, dad’s got... fans." he says it with the kind of disdain only a kid can muster when talking about their parent, "but you’re, like... different."

"different how?" you ask, instantly regretting it. you shouldn’t engage. this is toji's kid, not your personal gossip columnist.

megumi finally looks up, one eyebrow raised, "you don’t seem as dumb as the other ones."

wow. compliment of the century. "that's way harsh. but thanks," you say dryly, crossing your arms. "and here i thought we were bonding."

there’s a flicker of something else in the child's eyes. a glimmer of protectiveness, maybe, "look, i'm just saying...don’t get your hopes up, okay? i don't think my dad's that type of guy."

you frown, perplexed at having this conversation with a child who barely comes up past your waist, "what makes you say that?"

megumi looks like he’s about to launch into a powerpoint presentation on why toji fushiguro Is a walking red flag, but then he stops. his petulant expression shifts, softens, just a little, "i don't anyone to be sad."

and there it is. the kid act drops for a split second, and you see it. he’s not just being a little punk — he's protecting himself. maybe he’s seen toji screw up one too many times, or maybe he’s tired of people coming and going from their lives. either way, you feel a pang of sympathy.

you sit down on the edge of the couch, careful not to invade his space, "i get it,” you say gently, "and i appreciate you looking out for me, and for your father. but...maybe your dad’s not as bad as you think."

megumi snorts, "yeah, right. i think he's a mess."

"well, sometimes messy people need someone to believe in them," you say, surprising even yourself with the honesty in your voice.

he doesn’t respond right away, just stares at the laptop screen like it holds the answers to life. finally, he sighs, closing it with a decisive snap.

"fine. you can...hang out with him. or whatever. i won't pull any dumb shit,” megumi suddenly pauses at the slip of his tongue, “wait, don't tell him i said that word. but if this screws up, i'm saying ‘I told you so."

he sounds like he’s just agreed to let you borrow his favourite video game.

you smile, relieved, "deal."

just then, the front door opens, and in walks toji, all feathery raven hair, sweat-slicked muscles, and a duffel bag slung over his shoulder like he’s just conquered a small country. he pauses when he sees you, eyebrows raising in surprise. "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, voice rough but warm.

before you can respond, megumi pipes up from the couch, "we had important business."

megumi watches you leave, your footsteps echoing down the hallway. you turn back once, smiling at toji like he’s just said something funny — or maybe like he’s not completely hopeless. his dad stands in the doorway, looking uncharacteristically relaxed, a satisfied smirk on his face that makes megumi's stomach churn.

how disgusting.

the second the door clicks shut, toji sighs like some kind of romantic hero from the bad drama his dad loves to secretly watch, running a hand through his choppy black hair and scratching at the back of his neck.

"isn't she cute?" coming from a guy who once tried to flirt with a waitress by asking her how many push-ups she thought he could do.

toji disappears into his room, leaving young, burdened megumi stranded on the couch with his thoughts. his dad — the six-foot-four slab of muscle and bad decisions who calls protein shakes "wizard juice" — is clearly falling for you. and honestly? megumi doesn’t hate the idea. you’re nice. you don’t talk down to him like other adults, and you don’t smell like motor oil and regret like toji's usual crowd.

but toji? his dad couldn’t woo a cactus. if this is going to happen, megumi's going to have to step in. it's the responsible thing to do.

he grabs his laptop again, boots it up, and clicks on the email icon with all the gravitas of a general preparing for war.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: hey gojo i need help message: hey gojo i need help.

he hits send, satisfied. within ten minutes, there’s a reply. gojo's always on his computer nowadays, swamped by senior finals.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: hey gojo i need help message: why are u emailing me. i feel weird emailing a six year old.

megumi rolls his eyes. he’s six, not stupid. he definitely thinks he's smarter than gojo satoru.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: i think my dad has a crush.

there’s a pause. megumi imagines goji sitting in his weirdly pristine apartment downstairs, wearing those stupid sunglasses he insists are cool, trying to process what he just read.

the reply comes in two words.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: come downstairs.

then another one.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: re: re: hey gojo i need help message: let’s debrief. i got cookies.

megumi shuts his laptop, slides off the couch, and heads for the door. it's time someone with real intelligence got involved.

megumi fushiguro sits at the kitchen table, eating rainbow cereal and trying to ignore the way his dad is pacing the room like a stressed-out gorilla. toji fushiguro, a walking, grunting tank of a man, is mumbling under his breath about "women" and "bad timing" and something about his shirt being "too tight." not that his dad has any normal shirts — just those stupid gym shirts.

megumi, as the only person in this house with half a brain cell, knows exactly what’s going on. his dad's got it bad for you.

not that he thinks that his dad would admit it. no, his dad's strategy for dealing with his obvious feelings is to act like a complete idiot whenever you’re around. last time, he dropped a dumbbell on himself while trying to show off. the time before that, he laughed so hard at one of your jokes he spat coffee everywhere. megumi had to clean it up.

so yeah, his dad was hopeless, and apparently, it’s megumi's job to fix it.

but megumi doesn’t think of himself as a matchmaker. he thinks of himself as a tortured genius, forced to live among lesser idiots. and frankly, he doesn’t even like the idea of his dad dating. because that's gross.

but the truth is, megumi's tired of toji stomping around the apartment like a lovesick rhino, and if getting you and his dad together means toji might finally stop asking megumi if his hair looks "cool," then so be it.

he starts small. when you knock on the door that afternoon, megumi answers and blocks the entrance like a bouncer, just like gojo told him to.

"oh, dad's not here again," he says, casual.

your face falls, and megumi immediately clocks it. bingo.

"you're in luck today, lady. wait here," he interrupts, darting inside, "i'll grab him."

except his dad is in there, muttering something about a broken pipe in the kitchen, while tapping furiously on his phone. megumi marches in, hands on his hips.

"i let her in," he announces, like a town crier.

his dad looks up, like a deer caught in the headlights of his own stupidity, "what? why didn’t you tell me? damn punk," he scrambles for a shirt.

"i'm telling you now, dad," megumi says, dully, "also, you’re acting like a weirdo. just go talk to her. ask her out."

toji freezes, halfway into his shirt, "what's gotten into you, kid? gonna drop a knife on me, huh? what am i supposed to say?"

megumi resists the urge to roll his eyes so hard they fall out of his head, "i don't know. say hi to her. maybe don't mention the gym."

his dad frowns, "you're six, punk. what do you know? people like hearing about that shit."

"not normal people."

once toji is finally presentable — or as presentable as a man with permanent bedhead and a scar on his lip can be — megumi ushers him out of the room. then, like the misunderstood mastermind he is, megumi follows quietly, lurking behind the door to eavesdrop.

toji opens the door to find you standing there, fiddling with the strap of your bag. his usual dumb smirk creeps onto his face, "hey, didn’t expect to see you here," he says, leaning on the doorframe like he thinks he’s starring in a cologne commercial.

"yeah, i was just...in the neighborhood," you say, sounding way too nervous for someone who claims this is a casual visit.

megumi winces. they’re hopeless. this is your neighbourhood, too.

toji scratches the back of his neck, a nervous tick Megumi’s only seen when he’s trying not to embarrass himself, "well, uh, you wanna come in? i was just... doing some cleaning. we can...talk, or some shit like that."

megumi knows for a fact that there's a lie in toji's words. the only cleaning his dad's ever done is shoving everything into the closet and calling it "organised."

but somehow, it works. you step inside, smiling at him like he just offered you free ice cream. now, that would be a decent offer.

from his spot behind the door, megumi mentally pats himself on the back. phase one: complete. he decides to clock out, flopping back on his rumpled bed to pull his laptop back out, immediately logging back onto his game.

but by the time you leave an hour later, toji looks like he just won the lottery. you’re smiling too, waving awkwardly before heading down the stairs. and ugh, gross! you lean in and press a soft kiss to toji's cheek before you turn.

as soon as the door shuts, toji leans against it and lets out the most ridiculous sigh megumi has ever heard.

"hah, kid. she likes me," his dad says, grinning like a lovesick idiot.

megumi, standing in the doorway to the kitchen, crosses his arms, "that's foul. but no thanks to you."

his dad opens one sharp green eye at him, and scowls. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

"it means," megumi says, feeling a lifetime of bribery for ice-cream excite him, "you owe me. big time."

toji’s standing in the doorway, looking at megumi like he just asked him to join some cult. he scratches the back of his head, giving megumi that look — like he’s trying to figure out what the hell his kid is up to now.

"eh, you look weird today," toji mutters, a half-smirk tugging at his lips. he reaches down and ruffles megumi’s hair like it’s no big deal, making it stick up even more. his hair gets all spiky and untamable, and megumi scowls, smoothing it down, trying (and failing) to get his dark spikes to behave.

"yeah, whatever, dad," megumi mutters under his breath as toji turns and saunters off into his room. toji’s probably about to do a hundred push-ups and gloat to himself. megumi can already hear the dumb grunting from the other room.

as soon as toji’s gone, megumi sits back down at the table, shoveling a spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

for once, the apartment is quiet. no random phone calls, no weird people showing up, no random training sessions that sound more like a one-man wrecking crew than “exercise.” just peace.

it’s bliss.

he takes another bite of cereal, enjoying the calm and the fact that someone else is going to have to deal with toji’s nonsense for once. it’s about time.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: mission accomplished message: it worked. my dad's in love.

a few seconds later, gojo’s reply pops up.

to: demondog02@mail.com from: thestrongest@mail.com subject: re: mission accomplished message: that's great! wanna help me with the guy i like?

megumi squints at the screen, blinking twice. he closes his laptop with all the gravity of someone who has just solved world peace.

to: thestrongest@mail.com from: demondog02@mail.com subject: re: re: mission accomplished message: no.

[bijoumikhawal]

Hurricane Helene Relief Funds

Brother Wolf Animal Rescue operates out of Asheville, which has been hit aggressively by storm and flood damage

The Asheville Survival Program is reaching out. They appear to actually be the ones who use the Cashapp $Streets1de, and they just got put with Appalachian Med for convenience.

Beloved Asheville is reaching out. www.PayPal.me/belovedasheville and venmo.com/beloved-asheville

Homeward Bound helps the homeless in the Asheville/Buncombe area

Theres a fund for smaller rural communities around Asheville. It's close to its goal, but I really wish they'd set it higher considering what people are gonna need. Someone make sure they surpass it!

Charlotte NC is reaching out. Charlotte Mutual Aid: Helene Disaster Relief. CashApp: MutualAid704. Venmo: MutualAid704. Open Collective: Helene.cltfnb.com

Olive Branch Ministry is reaching out from West NC

Josh Griffith is fundraising for his efforts to deliver food in WNC

Breathitt County in Kentucky is fundraising to help NC through the Rousseau Volunteer Fire Department, as well as asking for physical supply donations. Their paypal is jrousseauvfd, put "for NC flood". Jaxon Flower shop in Jackson KY will also take physical donations. They aren't looking for clothes, moreso cleaning supplies and other items.

North Durham Mutual Aid is reaching out.

Eastern Kentucky Mutual Aid is also reaching out for funds. There looks like there might be two orgs with similar names, but if so both are helping. There's PayPal.me/ekymutualaid, Venmo - @ekymutualaid, or Cashapp - $ekymutualaid. There's also a Facebook group where individuals are posting requests for aid.

There's a fund for relief in Erwin, Tennessee

Helbender Harm Reduction is collecting physical supplies in Knoxville alongside First Aid Collective Knoxille, whose Cashapp/Venmo is: $firstaidcollectknox. If you're nearby they're looking for clothes, blankets, shelf stable food, rain gear, flashlights, and batteries, which is what most other groups asking for supplies are looking at too.

The TriCities Mutual Aid group is mostly asking for volunteers and supplies in the Tennessee/Virginia area. However, they may shift to donations, and you can reach out to them to see if they would be welcome either way.

Food Not Bombs Tallahassee has a cashapp: $fnbtally2022. They and Mutual Aid Athens are also boosting any community calls for funds, labor, or supplies in various states on their Instagram pages

Taylor County FL is reaching out. Paypal: Mskatonic138@gmail.com and Venmo @Mskatonic138

The Footprint project's Florida team is asking for people to support their response by texting HELENE to 44-321

Since I don't know if the post I made late last night will get traction I'll reiterate that Mutual Aid Disaster Relief is a trusted org. You can send funds at the linked site, or via Paypal: MutualAidDisasterRelief@gmail.com Or Venmo: @MutualAidDisasterRelief

Appalachian Med is another trusted org I shared last night. They have Venmo: @AppMedSolid. Put Flood Support in the description

Animal Disaster Relief Coalition is helping people make sure their animals are fed.

A list of Mutual Aid groups can be found here

A friend of mine, Vyn, is asking for help since he'll be out of power for around a week in Southeast GA

Other physical supplies people will be looking for in flood impacted areas include:

bottled water, potentially water filters

personal hygiene items: wipes, camping showers, tampons/pads/other menstrual products, handsanitizer, mosquito spray, laundry detergent, washboards, toilet paper, diapers, and especially any products safe for sensitive skin

medications- ibuprofen, monistat and other meds for yeast infections, cold and cough meds, any diabetic meds that can be safely shared, etc

individually wrapped low or no prep food items, baby formula, and Gatorade

duffel bags, backpacks, heavy duty storage totes and trash bags, 5 gallon buckets, coolers

Fans, dehumidifiers, moisture sensors, generators, gas and gas cans, solar charging items and battery banks, first aid kits

chainsaws, crowbars, hammers, air filters, respirators, 2×4 planks, bleach, roofing nails, heavy duty gloves, and potentially waders.

and board games or other non electric activities for children

Double check if you can before you donate these items to make sure whatever local drive you're headed to wants them and can distribute the more specialized ones where they're needed

And please! Add any funds you know of, especially for South Carolina and North Georgia since I wasn't seeing many funds for those areas! I know South Carolina is in desperate need and there's definitely parts of North Georgia in need too. Atlanta saw some bad flooding so keep an eye for them too!

[himbodruid]

A Dragon In Rut

What happens when you stumble upon a dragon experiencing rut for the first time?

A short Dragon!Sylus x Reader/you oneshot

Breeding kink | knotting | scent kink

Intended for 18+ readers only MINORS DNI

Read the companion piece here!

Read the present timeline mirror here!

Fic Master List

Borrowed some lines from Secret Times 😏

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It had been some time since you and Sylus became close, even longer since you first met him. Days blended together when the only sense of sunlight you got were from various chutes in the cavern ceilings that allowed for airflow, so you weren't exactly sure how long it had been. The two of you became quite the pair of criminals, and thinking of the previous raid brought a satisfied smile to your face.

Dust motes danced in and out of the sun beams, giving the cavern you declared as your chambers a whimsical feeling. Richly coloured tapestries hung from the walls, adding a sense of warmth and life to your space. The fiend, Sylus, had even offered you treasures from his own hoard to decorate your space with. You had come to love the freedom that this network of caverns offered you. And you found yourself quite fond of the dragon that occupied another set of chambers.

Sylus was usually asleep at times like this, when the sun was high and bright. You found yourself mimicking his sleep schedule out of convenience, but something had awoken you and curiosity had gotten the best of you.

When you left your chamber, however, something in the air shifted. You didn’t know what it was, but it was off. Charged. Your pulse quickened as you sought out Sylus, worrying for his well being in the chaotic atmosphere that interrupted the usual calm.

You found him, not by sight, but by sound in his own chamber. As you brushed the tapestries that covered his doorway aside, a feral snarl reverberated from within.

“Sylus?” You questioned, stopping your advance at the sound.

“Leave,” was all he said, his voice strained and more beast-like than usual.

“Is everything okay?” You hazard a step into the dimly lit room. A hiss and a groan greeted you.

“If you know what’s best for you, Kitten, you will leave right now.” His voice was pained and leaving was the last thing you wanted.

“Are you hurt?” Another step forward.

Then all at once, you found yourself pinned to the wall by his bulk, a growl rumbling from his chest. You caught a glimpse of his face as the light from the entrance was snuffed out by the tapestries. His pupils were dilated and his face flushed, and you furrowed your brows in concern.

“Please, tell me what’s wrong, you’re worrying me,” you say, raising your hand to cup his cheek. He made a sound like a barely restrained groan as he turned his face into your touch, inhaling deeply. That fiendish tail of his lashed out behind him, swinging to and fro- much like an agitated cat.

“You shouldn’t be here,” was all he said in reply.

And yet, he leaned into you instead of letting you go. You felt him bury his nose in your neck.

“Your scent…I want it. Steamy and sweet…like cherry wine,” he murmured, his mouth finding your pulse.

“S-Sylus, what..” you stammer, incapable of forming coherent thought thanks to the heat of his tongue rolling so, so sensually against your neck. It was clear that he wasn’t in his right mind, trapped under some spell, but you couldn’t push him away. Instead you wanted, needed him closer.

A sound resembling a purr rumbled from his chest when your hand cupped the back of his head and you tilted your chin up for him. His mouth traveled the expanse of your neck, leaving biting kisses in his wake. Your heart thundered in your chest and an involuntary shiver shuddered through you.

“You should have run away when you had the chance,” he growled, hauling you up against the hard planes of his well-sculpted body. He carried you to a pile of blankets that rested atop a goose-down filled pad.

As he laid you down in his nest, you were consumed by him. That smokey scent of him surrounded you, his body crowded you. All thoughts fled as you were immersed in his very essence. You clung to him, even as his mouth traveled down your body. Taloned hands were surprisingly adept at removing your simple clothing, and the groan he released when you laid bare beneath him went straight to your core.

His hungry gaze roamed your figure, darkening with desire as it finally landed on the apex of your thighs. His nostrils flared, taking in your scent, your arousal.

“Last chance, Kitten.” His crimson eyes found yours again, awaiting your final consent. You hadn’t fought him thus far, but he held himself back once more to give you a chance to run away, to deny him what he so clearly wanted.

But you shook your head, hooking your legs around his hips to keep him from leaving you. He grinned a devilish grin and stooped over you to seal the agreement with a searing kiss. His tongue plunged into your mouth, wrestling with your own for space. Your moans were met with growls of his own. And when you were beginning to feel light headed, he finally removed himself from you.

“I’ll start with your warmest spot…” he murmured against your skin as he trailed those stinging kisses down your body. “And until I’m finished, you’re not allowed to stop me.”

And then the heat of his mouth overwhelmed your cunt as he plunged his tongue against your flesh. When you tried to squirm from the sensation, his taloned hands held you fast. All you could do was sink your hands into that damnably silky hair of his and announce your pleasure to the room. He worked you up so quickly that you crashed over the edge before you even had a chance to think. His name tumbled from your lips like a prayer, even as his teeth scraped against your inner thigh.

His chuckle was deep and raspy and he lazily reclaimed his spot atop you. You didn’t know when it had occurred, but what little clothing he wore was discarded and the length of him pressed solid against your belly. With one hand occupied by holding your wrists together above your head, he hooked a leg over his free arm and pressed you hard into his bedding. His hips ground against you as that obnoxiously enticing purring sound reverberated through the cavern once more.

“You’re all mine,” he growled into your ear before positioning himself at your entrance. You briefly worried about how in the world a man as large as him would fit into such a petite woman as yourself, but all thoughts and fears fled the moment he breached you.

“S-Sy-“ you whimpered into his mouth as he sought to distract you from any discomfort. His body trembled with the effort of holding back. Breaths came short as he fully sheathed himself into you, his gasping pants feathering at your neck as he fought to give you time to adjust to his girth. Despite the effort, his hips still jerked forward.

“Hell, love. How do you feel this damn good?” He whined against your chest as he dropped his head down. The trembling in his body increased tenfold as his internal war continued.

The deepest, guttural moan escaped from him as soon as you lifted your hips in a silent signal to proceed. That moan turned into a possessive growl as he shifted his hips, pulling and pushing from your oh-so-willing body. You longed to cling to him, but he still held fast to your wrists.

Feeling mischievous, your mouth found his throat and you scraped your teeth against his flesh. He surprised you by baring his neck to you with a moan, and so you bit down on that corded muscle at the slope of his shoulder. The same place he marked you however many days ago.

At that simple action, it was like a damn broke loose. A heated snarl erupted from him and his hips pistoned in and out at a pace that would be punishing if it didn’t feel so fucking good. Your voice rose to join his as his cock brought you to such a swift climax, it had you reeling.

Even as your walls pulsed around him, he didn’t stop. Indeed, it felt like his pace actually sped up as he mindlessly chased a release that seemed to evade him. You felt as though the moment one orgasm was over, he drove you right into another one. His name fell from your lips with reckless abandon and he buried his face into your neck once more.

But this time was different. His movements seemed deliberate, almost as if he was…what? You weren’t sure how to describe his action, but it was almost as if it was some sort of primal instinct to mark you with his scent.

And there was something else happening.

As he drove himself into you over and over again, you could feel something at the base of his cock…almost like some sort of bulge was forming? You weren’t at all familiar with the anatomy of his kind, so you couldn’t be sure what to expect.

“Sylus, what?” You tried to question, your brain unable to form the full question.

“Mine,” he growled. His voice had taken on that feral tone he had once used with you to try and scare you away. He finally released your wrists to loop his arm under your free leg, practically folding you in half while he pumped into you relentlessly. All you could do was cling to him and ride out the pleasure he continued to build.

And then it happened. You weren’t really sure what “it” was, but that strange bulge at the base of his cock all but locked him to you as he thrust hard into you one final time. His moaning cries filled the cavern as he threw his head back and you felt his cock twitch and pulse inside of you, the sensation being enough to push you over the edge again with him.

And you figured that would be the end of it, a beautiful connection with this incredible being.

But his hips remained locked with yours. He nuzzled into your neck, that purring sound emanating from him again. The smallest of thrusts was all the movement he was granted by the knot, but the tugging sensation elicited sparks of pleasure that coursed through you. You whimpered into his ear as you lifted your hips to meet his with each nudge.

Then, almost as if taken over by his instincts once more, his hips whipped forward and he plunged so impossibly deep into you that you didn’t know where he ended and you began. His cock twitched and more hot ropes of cum flooded you while he moaned against your skin. It dragged you into an abrupt climax, almost as if his own orgasm was some sort of switch for yours.

It happened several more times: he would relax his hips for a moment, only to violently thrust forward again and cum so explosively that you couldn’t help but follow him over the edge. But finally, after what felt like ages, that knot appeared to subside.

Sylus slumped against you, placing soft kisses against your skin. You were exhausted from the ordeal, barely awake as he shifted you to the side. You couldn’t even work up the energy to feel embarrassed as he cleaned you up, taking great care to be gentle with you.

Shortly thereafter, you fell into the deepest sleep you ever experienced while wrapped in his warm embrace.

—

That night, after the two of you woke from your shared slumber, Sylus had the good consciousness to blush at the behaviour he exhibited. He laid beside you, head propped up on a hand while the other traced feather-light swirling patterns on your skin.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I have never personally experienced a rut before and didn’t have the willpower to send you away.”

You smiled at him, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. “Is this something that dragons experience?”

“Mmh,” he said, thinking about how to reply in a way you would understand. “It is a mating instinct that all dragons experience, yes. Usually the worst of the urges are able to be subdued enough to still function. But when your scent hit me, it was like I was possessed.”

“And what was the..thing that happened towards the end?” You asked, not sure what to call the strange bulge that kept him locked to your body.

“In your tongue, it would be called a knot. When a dragon finds his mate, that is usually how they are claimed. I…don’t really know how to describe it, since I’ve never experienced it before.”

“Hmm, does that make me your mate, then?”

His gaze softened at your question and that lopsided smile you so loved played across his face. Instead of answering with words, he leaned down and kissed you thoroughly.

“Mmh. I rather enjoy my scent being intertwined with yours.”

[blackkatdraws2]

[Toon x Mobster] Chapter 4: Dazed.

Previously // Next - (chapter list) / (AO3 ver)

Jack sat slumped on the living room couch with a TV remote in hand, the screen flicking from one channel through the next. With his attention still mostly focused on the man in the bathroom, his ears twitched as they picked up the noise of the faucet being turned on.

He sniffed. That sharp, metallic tang of blood clung stubbornly to his nose still.

Jack had already called in sick earlier, using last night’s downpour as a convenient excuse. The few days off will give him some breathing room and time to watch over his new guest, though he couldn't help but feel a little guilty about shifting his workload onto his colleagues. They're good people, he knew they wouldn’t hold it against him, but still, the nagging thought lingered.

His nose itched. “ACHOO! Oh!” Jack sneezed loudly, startling even himself. He rubbed his nose, muttering a soft “bless me.”

The apartment felt too quiet now. Jack glanced toward the hallway leading to the bathroom. He sighed, sinking deeper into the cushions as the tension from earlier lingered. The encounter had left him feeling a bit more muted than usual, but at the same time, he knew he wouldn’t have acted any differently.

“What have I gotten myself into…?” he mumbled under his breath.

His dulled eyes fixated on the TV screen, though the flashing images barely registered in his head.

"What now?”

Some Toon actor was bouncing around, spouting catchphrases in a voice too cheerful for his current mood. Jack's thumb hovered over the remote, but he didn’t bother changing the channel. The noise was better than silence at least.

He supposed he should be grateful the Grim hadn't turned this situation into some Toon-Noir crime scene, though he was surprised it hadn't already, especially with what happened earlier. Still, how long would this last?

The thought made him groan softly, dragging a hand down his face as his impulsive decision slapped him in the face once again. "Sweet," he murmured in frustration, though it was mostly directed towards himself. "Just wing it with a literal Grim-mob-boss-looking guy in your house. No big deal."

The flickering light of the television danced across his face, but his expression was devoid of any response, like the static had seeped into him. The thoughts churning in his head felt distant.

Why does he always have to care so much?

Sure, the Grim guy looked like he was on the verge of death when Jack found him, but wasn’t that all the more reason to take him to a hospital? Or the authorities? Somewhere, anywhere, better equipped to deal with a situation like that? Jack had no business dragging him back to his apartment like this!

The memory of that night was blurry, tinged with adrenaline and rain. Jack’s fingers twitched slightly at the thought of how cold the man’s skin had felt, his weight on Jack's back as he carried him through the downpour, the blood that seeped into his suit. His decision had been made in a split second; impulsive and reckless.

What if the Grim man died in his apartment?

The thought settled over Jack like a heavy, suffocating blanket, but even that couldn’t stir much from him. His breath came out soft and steady, not quite a sigh but close enough.

What would he have done if the man's blood had soaked into the floor and left a corpse behind? Call the police? Try to explain why there was a Grim dead in his apartment? Would they even believe him?

What if it was him who got killed? Shot in the head with that gun in the man's suit, the one Jack took away and hid from him when they arrived in his apartment.

If he had, mummy and daddy would be sad if they heard about it. He felt apologetic when he thought about how his parents would react if news reached that their son had been left for dead in the city they thought had been the safest for him. He knows not to worry them, yet here he was.

Thoughts continued to circle lazily in his mind, but none of them seemed to matter all that much. Not really. None of them had mattered back then either. It had been raining, he saw someone dying, and he’d acted. That was all there was to it, even if the decision felt dumb now. Still, was it the right thing to do?

The TV show's laughter filled the room, a stark contrast to his blank stare.

Jack was pulled from his spiraling thoughts by the faint sound of footsteps. Turning his head toward the source, he saw the scarred man standing in the corridor entrance.

The clothes Jack had left for him were a tad bit tight on the mobster’s muscular frame, but he didn't seem bothered by it, which was good. The Grim's sharp eyes looked around the apartment, taking in every detail with the same wariness that hadn't left him since he woke up.

Jack snapped out of his pondering, and offered him a tentative smile. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Ah, sorry if the place looks a little… unkempt," he said, his voice lighter than he felt. "It's usually a bit more put together, I promise. Just haven’t had much time or energy lately to clean up."

The man didn’t respond right away. His gaze lingered on the coffee table, where a few cans of beer sat among scattered wrappers and an empty cup of noodles. They looked like they hadn't been taken out in a while. Then, his gaze shifted to the bedroom doorway where Jack had hastily cleaned up the remnants of the spilled food from earlier.

His eyes finally met Jack's. The Toon resisted the urge to shrink under the weight of that gaze. Instead, he smiled at him. "My place ain't much, but make yourself comfortable."

The silence stretched between them as the Grim's expression didn't change and went back to looking around the small room. It wasn’t exactly the warmest start to a conversation, but Jack supposes he should start getting used to that.

Still, something about having the Grim man standing there, alive and fully clothed, was oddly grounding. It's a bit amazing seeing him able to get up and walk around in that condition, actually.

Jack's smile faltered, slipping away as he found himself staring at the man without realizing it. His gaze trailed over his big frame and drifted to the scars etched across his skin. He'd seen them while he was tending to his wounds, running along in numbers from his face down to his ankles.

How does someone end up with scars like that? It was the kind of curiosity that gnawed at him, the kind he knew better than to voice aloud. Whatever had left those marks behind probably wasn’t the kind of thing the Grim would ever want to talk about, let alone to someone like Jack.

Noticing Jack's staring, the man’s sharp gaze shifted, landing back on him. Jack blinks, realizing he’d been caught staring. He mustered up a sheepish smile, just a slight upward tilt of his lips that teetered on the edge of awkwardness.

“Uh. There’s food in the pot,” Jack offered. He gestured toward the kitchen with a quick nod of his head. “And some leftover rice in the rice cooker. Help yourself if you’re hungry, okay?”

The man said nothing, his expression impassive, but his attention lingered on Jack for a moment longer before finally glancing toward the kitchen. Jack's smile fell once the man’s gaze moved away.

He had put together something simple earlier, something that wouldn’t upset his injuries or require much effort to chew. The deeper cuts were across the man’s stomach and sides, they looked like wounds that would make eating anything too heavy or dense a painful experience, or so he assumed, at least. He's honestly never done anything like this before, he only recalls the first aid training and recalls none of the book stuff.

A basic porridge seemed like the safest option. Rice simmered in broth until it was soft, with just a bit of shredded chicken and a few vegetables tossed in for flavor. It wasn’t anything fancy, but it was warm and filling. He hoped his guest wasn’t a picky eater.

He noticed the man lingering in the corridor, as if debating whether to follow Jack’s invitation or retreat. Catching on, Jack decided to turn his focus back to the TV.

He lazily changes the channel and the screen flickered with images of a car accident somewhere near the city, the voice of the reporter droning on about casualties and road closures. Jack wasn’t really paying attention.

He’d never been exposed to a Grim before. Were they all this unfriendly or was it just this one?

Jack yawns, a bit groggy. Maybe he was overthinking it, or maybe he wasn’t thinking enough. Either way, he was exhausted, especially after spending the whole night awake taking care of that man.

His body slowly slid down the couch, lying down with an ungraceful sprawl, his consciousness slowly slipping into sleep. _

Previously // Next - (chapter list) / (AO3 ver) Thank you to @demonicrhythms for proofreading this chapter.

[thetreetopinn]

Sources for Somerton's Plagiarism from Hbomberguy's Video (as much as I could get)

I went back through Harry's video, focused entirely on the sources James Somerton pulled from in the hopes of creating as much of a comprehensive list as I could--though my Google-Fu is not very strong. I did however find something I thought was forever lost and that made me very happy--specifically the magazine Midlands Zone containing the column by Steven Spinks that Harry poignantly used as an illustration of gay erasure... while Somerton uses it to sound like HE is waxing remorseful about the very subject.

This is not a complete list, I'm sure. For one thing, I was only able to attempt to pull sources that Harry himself mentioned in the video. Surely there's so very much more out there. I expect there to be a great deal more internet archeology to unearth just how much writing and culture Somerton has stolen like he's the British Museum of Natural History but for gay people.

- - - - -

Harry's list of mentioned youtubers:

Alexander Avila - https://www.youtube.com/@alexander_avila Matt Baume - https://www.youtube.com/@MattBaume Khadija Mbowe - https://www.youtube.com/@KhadijaMbowe Lady Emily - https://www.youtube.com/@LadyEmilyPresents Shanspeare - https://www.youtube.com/@Shanspeare RickiHirsch - https://www.youtube.com/@RickiHirsch VerilyBitchie - https://www.youtube.com/@verilybitchie

Harry created a convenient playlist of videos by these and other people he wants to bring to everyone's attention.

Please give them your support.

- - - - -

Midlands Zone Magazine - Column by Steven Spinks

After a great deal of searching, I found an archive of the "Midlands Zone" magazine, where you can read through past issues dating all the way back to February 2014. I have also found the issue from which Somerton took Spinks' poignant discussion of gay erasure: Overall archive Specific Issue - Pages 16-17

It will not allow you to download it, but you can read it exactly as it appeared in print form.

- - - - -

My best effort to find the exact book or article Somerton lifted from to be able to get attention to the original writers

Tinker Bells and Evil Queens By Sean Griffin

The Celluloid Closet By Vito Russo Wikipedia article about the book Wikipedia article about the documentary My weak google-fu could not find where you can access the book or documentary. Check your local municipal or university library for book or documentary, or if you know a good source for one or both, please reblog with it added

Camp and the Gay Sensibility By Jack Babuscio

The Groundbreaking Queerness of Disney's Mulan By Jes Tom Personal site with links to social media accounts

Why Rebel Without a Cause was a milestone for gay rights By Peter Howell

Why "The Craft" is still the best Halloween coming out movie By Andrew Park

Opinion: From facehuggers to phallic tails, is 'Alien' one of the queerest films ever? By Dani Leever

Women and Queerness in Horror: Jennifer's Body By Zoe Fortier

[Pride 2019] We Have Such Sights to Show You: Hellraiser and the Spectrum of Queerness By Alejandra Gonzalez

Revealing the Hellbound Heart of Clive Barker's 'Hellraiser' By Colin Arason

Queering James Cameron's Aliens (1986) By Bart Bishop

Demeter and Persephone in space: transformation, femininity, and myth in the 'Alien' films By David Greven

Fears of a millennial masculinity: Scream's queer killers By David Greven (Scholarly site, unable to access original work, offers a way to request a full copy of the text in PDF)

Queer Subtext in Stephen King's It - Part 1: 'Reddie' Character Analysis By Rachel Brands Rachel is the very unfortunate lady who found out she was being stolen from because she supported Somerton through Patreon and saw one of his videos early with her writing--lacking any form of citation or credit

How 'It: Chapter Two' Leaves Richie Tozier Behind By Joelle Monique

When Horror Becomes Strength: Queer Armor in Stephen King's 'IT' By Alex London

Why Queer People Love Witchcraft By Amanda Kohr

'The Favourite' Queers The Past And The Present By Giorgi Plys-Garzotto

(Wuko) Crush (Mako x Wu) By MoonFlower on YouTube

5 Terrible Movies With Awesome Hidden Meanings By J.F. Sargent

The Radicalization of Sexuality: The Queer Casae of Jeffrey Dahmer By Ian Barnard

Netflix's 'Dahmer' backlash highlights ethical issues in the platform's obsession with true crime By Shivani Dubey

The Possible Disturbing Dissonance Between Hajime Isayama's Beliefs and Attack on Titan's Themes Original Article by "Seldom Musings" (Author has made all posts not related to Attack On Titan private and has retired from the blog)

Everyone Loves Attack on Titan. So Why Does Everyone Hate Attack on Titan? By Gita Jackson

- - - - -

The following people are otherwise named in the video. There are no direct citations of articles or books by them in said video. I am unable to guarantee that I have identified the correct individual.

Darren Elliott-Smith Michaela Barton David Church Claire Sisco King Amanda Howell Jessica Roy

- - - - -

Telos announced and cancelled a film likely based on this book: The Final Girl Support Group - By Grady Hendrix

- - - - -

I refrained from including certain sources.

First off only focusing on Somerton's work.

Secondly not including anything that might be visible enough to not require amplifying their voice (I cannot speak for all of those I have found links to, but journalism is frequently a thankless job).

Thirdly any source that is of a nature that is antithetical to the very existence of the queer community, such as the right-leaning source that didn't make it into Somerton's video, but Harry was able to identify as a source he had considered using.

If you feel I have missed a mentioned source--or you know of a source from material that was not covered in Harry's video--please do not hesitate to reblog with added details.

- - - - -

Please share this information far and wide, and please add to it if you find more material that can be positively identified and linked to the creator/writer.

[tryingtofindava]

OMG , OMG, Are you an expert in creepypasta, I want to give you my request If you don't mind ... May i've a request for Jeff the killer,ticcy toby , Laughing Jack ( if you write for him ) and eyeless Jack please?!

With sweet fem s/o who don't know they are serial killers and only give them affection (like kisses every day) NSFW

Preatty please, love you baby

── 𝐂𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐩𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐜𝐥𝐮𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 & 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭! 𝐒/𝐎

: ̗̀➛Back to Source

INCLUDES: Jeff the Killer, Ticci Toby, and Eyeless Jack.

srry pookie bear not touching the nsfw today :c might come back to this idea later with just NSFW tho >:)

╰┈➤ 𝐉𝐞𝐟𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐫

You definitely caught his eyes when he first saw you, immediately taking in your sweet bubbly aura. (You were definitely on his bucket list of victims after he stalked you for a bit)

But one day, he got a little too cocky and you caught him. And to his surprise you didn’t seem to mind at all when you found this questionable looking stranger stalking around outside your bedroom window.

You’re guys difference in aesthetic in personality is what made you guys hit it off. YOU GUYS ARE THE DEFINITION OF SUNSHINE X MOON.

He thinks you’re too sweet to actually be sweet tbh, but you never fail to prove him wrong.

He’s cocky and arrogant, and the god complex on this man is UNBELIEVABLE… The only reason you’re alive in his head is because he was gracious enough to let you continue with your life. Not that he’d tell you that ofc!!

“Do you think I’m beautiful?”

“Of course, you’re so handsome!!”

He likes that you agree he’s beautiful for sure. (He fishes for compliments all the time, anything to stroke his ego.)

He’s possessive, and borderline obsessive. You’re his. And that’s that.

He takes you where he wants, when he wants. The woods? Yep. The shitty convenience store toilets? Double yep yep. Anywhere you guys could get caught in general? YUP.

Double life points because you don’t even know he’s a literal serial killer, like, even though all the signs and red flags are there.

When you guys started to date, he did soften up a bit, not as cruel and mean. But only a little bit. He LIVES for the surprise kisses.

Typa guy who’d ask ‘where’s my hug at?’

╰┈➤𝐓𝐢𝐜𝐜𝐢 𝐓𝐨𝐛𝐲

This boy THRIVES off how sweet you are, it all works in his favour really. Your house is like his hide out spot, away from his… ‘work’ and honestly just everything.

You’re his safe space. His home.

He does think you’re a bitty dull though, and he often wonders how long his ‘I’m a hunter’ excuse will work.

He’d try his very hardest to keep you a secret from the others, but his Tourette’s to make him tic and stutter out your name and nicknames. Which definitely raises some questions on who this ‘Y/n’ and ‘Schatz’ is.

“A-a-and then he- Y/n- fuh-fuck…”

Please, please, please help him through his episodes and tic attacks. He’ll cherish you forever and ever. (He already did but it’s set in stone now.)

He likes that you’re nice to him, he feels so super duper special that he’s getting love and affection, him! Of all ppl!! (poor boy just needs some loving yall)

He’s ECSTATIC when you guys start to date, he’s not very experienced since he’s only dated Clockwork (my beloved) BUT HE’S A FAST LEARNER AND PICKS UP ON EVERYTHING QUICKLY!! ^^

He was so super shocked when you started giving him little kisses here and there, and it soon becomes a game of who can get the most surprise kisses in a day. (He’s proper pouncing on you to get to ur neck)

╰┈➤ 𝐄𝐲𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐉𝐚𝐜𝐤

When you guys first met, it was around 9pm. It was dark outside, the street lamps Turing on one by one. We’re carrying home some grocery bags, and when you bumped into a tall, dark and mysterious man with an eerie mask… you immediately compliment his cosplay.

“Ohhh, cool cosplay!!”

“What…?”

Okiii, so anyways you guys are dating now<3

He’s a sneaky one for sure, out of him, Toby and Jeff, he’s the best at keeping what he does a secret. Not that’d you’d notice either way but… yh.

He’s a possessive bastard like Jeff though, he worries about how sweet you are to everyone, he’d hate if someone were to upset you or even worse, hurt you… (And if they do he’d take care of them for you)

He likes that you don’t question his grey skin, empty eye sockets, the sharp teeth, 3 tongues, and ESPECIALLY the tar dripping from where his eyes should be. Less work for him to make up excuses.

But, that doesn’t stop you from questioning his eating habits…

Always questioning him and lecturing him of he shouldn’t feast on raw ‘animals’. Yeah… you bet your ass he’s not telling you about the cannibal or demon thing. And it’s gonna stay like that.

You’re too sweet and pure to him to be revealed to the horrors that is himself. How he longs to be in a universe with you were he can be normal so you guys could live the white picket fence life style.

But, he doesn’t get that. But at least he gets you all to himself, demon or not.

He’s more stunned by your surprise kisses against his mask, but he does find it adorable, how couldn’t he? The way you lean up on your tippy toes with puckered lips. He can’t help himself but slide his mask up and take you right then and there.

wowee was this long, can u tell I had to get this out of my system:3

[ozzgin]

More of the yandere monster???? Like their married life, him being such a cutie cutie and the reader is a willing person to his yandere tendencies. Like him physically fighting someone for flirting with her for .01 second and her just being 😍🥰

Alright anon, seeing as this has once again resurfaced, I'll cover a little bit of marital life as per your suggestion. (I'm hoping you're referring to the older sibling monster)

Yandere! Monster Husband x Reader

A little change of plans and the wedding you've been kidnapped for continued without a hitch, except you married the monstrous sibling instead. Made for an awkward celebratory dinner, but no one dared to oppose the Beast.

Content: female reader, monster romance, mildly NSFW, saga of the monster hoe reader continues

[First part]

The next family dinner was quiet. You couldn't help but wonder if your horniness had gone too far, slowly chewing your food and occasionally peeking at the ex-groom with remorseful eyes. Poor guy, you thought. "Well, it's quite convenient, isn't it?" he finally said, breaking the silence. The cutlery sounds paused, and you lifted your gaze again. The man flashed you a radiant smile, which emphasized his handsome features even more. "I mean, we weren't sure we'd ever find a wife for my brother. He has a bit of an attitude, and even monsters are afraid of him. The only marriage attempt-" his speech was interrupted by a grunt, and you turned towards your monstrous boyfriend. The older sibling was frowning, visibly embarrassed. "Oh, I remember!" the mother of the siblings, a halfling herself, suddenly chuckled into her glass, taking a generous sip before continuing: "We'd arranged for a fellow monster to meet him, and the poor soul got so frightened she blended in with the background! Took us two days to find her! She came from a chameleon family, I recall."

Everyone at the table began to laugh and you joined, although with a mild annoyance tinged into your voice. So what, there was no reason for you to be plagued by guilt? You even refused a night escapade with your boyfriend until things "settled", as a way to be respectful towards the cucked party. All for naught. At least now you could be ravaged without further consequences. When the mother in law had pulled you aside hours earlier to make sure you weren't coerced into this arrangement, you had to hold back from crassly confessing you'd slurp her son empty of fluids at any hour of the day. Some things are better left untold.

Unfortunately, one detail couldn't be changed in time: the guest list. As this had been an event meant to strengthen the ties between humans, no one outside of the immediate family graced the venue with their monstrous presence. Many guests were intrigued by the outcome of the affair, terribly curious to see the famed wife-to-be of the gruesome, feared Head of the royal army. Even more so once they discovered it was a regular human by all means. "Fascinating!", the old ladies would occasionally cry out, clutching the plump, expensive pearls adorning their necks. You had to frequently excuse yourself in order to dodge the rather indecent questions regarding your relationship. Except when you did manage to sneak away, one of the younger men of names and titles you never registered would approach you for a dance. "Truly a pitiful matter", they'd whisper much too close to your ear. "You would've made a lovely bride for a fellow human."

"You're unexpectedly calm about this", the prince mentioned to his older brother at some point during the wedding night. "Are you not bothered by all the acquaintances flocking to your bride?" The monster shook his head with a sigh. He hadn't known you for that long yet, but one thing he was certain of: it's not humans he needed to fear.

Indeed, having a wife with a monster kink is particularly challenging when most of the husband's work involves similar creatures. The first months after the marriage were stalked by the insidious doubt that his luck was just that: mere coincidence. Would you have displayed the same interest had he not been the only beast at the table? Would you still pick him in a room full of monsters? Such questions followed him each day, feeding into an ever-growing jealousy.

"What are you doing here!", he exclaimed in despair once he noticed your arrival at his training camp. "You forgot your lunch", you explained, eyebrows raised in confusion. Oh, for fuck's sake. He quickly pulled you away, glaring at the subordinates startled by the commotion. They must've been eyeing (Y/N) like rabid dogs, he thought. Next thing you know, you'll be scooped away by some horned scoundrel. He can't have that.

Initially, the rage-filled, obsession-driven fuck you'd receive almost daily was welcomed with shameless begging. The way your monster husband would pin you down under his claws and thrust into you so hard, you could see its movement in waves across your stomach. The way he'd forcefully spread your legs, hungrily sinking his nails into the soft flesh of your thighs and gnawing your shoulders in delirious need. The tears that sheepishly formed in the corners of your hooded eyes would only incite him more. "Bite onto my hand if you can't take it anymore", he'd coo without stopping. As much as you liked to be left a limp, drooling mess, the soreness grew unbearable. Enough was enough when you found yourself carrying a cushion to sit down on any surface.

"Listen, we need to have a talk." You greeted him solemnly once he returned from his military duties. Oh, no. Absolutely not. The monstrous husband bit his lips in panic, immediately going through a mental list of all his subordinates. Or was it someone in the family that slithered their way into your heart? Is that what it was about, that you'd found a different creature? No matter, you weren't going anywhere. "I don't want to hear about it", he declared dramatically. "I have a bruised cervix!" you shouted in disbelief. "Huh?" He stared at you. "It hurts even when I lay down, man. You have to tone it down. At least for a little while."

Ah. Awkward. You noticed his flinch, and patted the empty seat next to you. "What did you think I was going to say?" The bench groaned under the weight of his gargantuan body. Hands folded in his lap like a punished schoolboy, your husband began to narrate the tale of his seething envy and frenzied passion for you. You must understand, he's never cared for anyone as much. To hell with duty and honor, he would kill his own father if his touch on you lingered one second longer than permitted. "Alright, but you must control yourself a little", you reminded him gently. "Never, my urge to obliterate any threat in my path is insatiable", he concluded with vehemence. "Yes, yes, that I understand. The sex, I mean", you gesticulated. "Of course. My apologies, I got sidetracked."

Somehow, he didn't expect to leave this conversation with a cathartic approval of his possessiveness. "Surely you must be upset by my fanatical behavior", he suggested meekly. "Oh no, it's part of your charm", you reassured him with a smile. "It's just not that sustainable in bed without the occasional break." You pat your stomach to express your misfortune.

Sadly, your monster fucking dreams must adhere to the laws of biology.

[rafesangelita]

♡ deciding to take a ride on the ‘tunnel of love’ roller coaster at the annual valentine’s day fair, rafe happens to catch you before it starts, conveniently locking himself in next to you. annoyed, you tell yourself you’ll be out and away from the man once the ride is over but (un)luckily for you, it just so happens to break down, leaving you two stuck together until it’s fixed..

warnings: one sided enemies to lovers (reader is the one who can’t stand rafe lol), forced proximity, teasing, flirty banter, slight angst (just a teeny tiny bit, it’s literally almost nonexistent), light fluff

a/n: now presenting… ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE’ 🤍 my town just so happens to be having a valentine’s day fair.. maybe (hopefully) i’ll go!

link: VALENTINE’S DAY CELEBRATION ໒꒰ྀི｡- ˕ -｡꒱ྀི১

wc: 1.4k

[7:57 PM] bestie ♡: it looks like kelce is going to take me out for v-day after all!! don’t wait for me, i’ll catch up soon, promise!

you had just bought an extra large funnel cake for you and your best friend to share when you read her text, your sugary sweet smile faltering as you took a seat at a nearby bench. “more for me, i guess..” you sighed, feeling a little bit silly at the fact that you sat here by yourself when everyone who passed you by was either in a group setting or hand in hand with someone who was most likely their significant other.

you picked at the fried goodness, not really feeling as festive as you were just two minutes ago. “yo, y/n!” you recognized the voice before you even looked up, your eyes immediately rolling as none other than rafe ‘insufferable daddy’s money’ cameron made his way over to you. ‘please let this be quick..’ you whispered under your breath, not sparing the man a single glance as he plopped down ridiculously close to you.

“what do you want, rafe?” he smiled when he heard his name roll off of your tongue, his muscular arm draping across your shoulders as his mouth dropped next to your ear. “can you at least act like you could tolerate me?” you scoffed, shrugging him off. “no, i can’t,” you finally looked at him, “because even that is too difficult to do.” he swallowed thickly, feeling slightly defeated before he went for the funnel cake that sat in your lap.

“i’m really not that bad, i’ll make you realize that soon.” rafe was also too confident and cocky for your liking— more reasons you could add to your seemingly never ending list as to why you think you two would never work out.

“i highly doubt that.” rafe was licking powdered sugar off of his fingers when you met his gaze again, your eyes flickering down to his tongue. the one thing that you couldn’t put on your list was that he wasn’t hot. anyone with eyes can tell you that rafe was insanely attractive, but of course, you’d never admit that to him out loud.. or so you thought. “you’re staring.” he smiled when he saw that your eyes stayed trained on his mouth, a smug expression taking over his features.

you blinked away, deciding you had enough chit-chat for one night. “in your dreams, ‘cameron.” rafe watched you get up from your seat, gladly taking the funnel cake you basically shoved into his hands. “why, thank you.” he took another piece, popping it into his mouth. you flashed him a fake smile before adjusting the strap of your crossbody purse. “i’ll see you around!” he called out, waving obnoxiously in your direction. “no you won’t!” you whispered to yourself, deciding to explore the fair a bit more.

little did you know conversation between you and rafe was far from over.

you walked around the fair grounds for almost fifteen more minutes before you had decided you were better off at home eating some greasy takeout and having a rom-com movie marathon in nothing but your comfy pj’s.

just as you were on your way to the exit, a flashing heart with the words ‘TUNNEL OF LOVE.. find your lover inside!’ caught your attention. deciding you’d at least inquire about it, you walked up to the ride operator and asked away. “excuse me! hi, i was just wondering what does the whole ‘find your lover inside!’ thing mean?” the woman lit up as if she had been dying to answer this question.

“so basically there’s another roller coaster coming from the other side, and once you two meet inside, the ride will stop for two minutes before coming back out to the respective entrances.” she explained. “so it’s like speed dating?” you smiled, the idea enthralling you. “yeah, that’s exactly it!” she nodded. you weighed out your options and decided a little excitement wouldn’t be such a bad idea.

“i’m suprised you don’t have a line, how much is it to get on?” you took your wallet out of your purse as she replied. “if you have a full-access wristband it’s free, but if not then it’ll be five dollars exactly.” you handed over the small bill, smiling to yourself as she let you through the metal gate. “it looks like two people can fit in here—” just as you stepped in, rafe came running from the opposite direction.

“stop the ride!” he shouted, his chest rising and falling as he bent over to catch his breath. you blinked. “it’s not even on, you drama queen.” taking a seat, you were about to pull the metal bar over your lap before he shouted again. “i’ll give you fifty bucks if you let me get on with her!” you crossed your arms over your chest, not expecting the ride operator to actually let him in. “seriously?!” you gasped when he walked through, flashing you a wink.

“sorry!” she pushed the guardrail over you and rafe until it locked in place before starting the ride. “this will all be over in two minutes.” you glared at him, trying to scoot as many centimeters away from him as you could. “that’s fine with me.” he shrugged. he leaned back in the cart, red and pink flashing lights illuminating the space in which you two rolled into slowly.

rafe kept his eyes on you, watching as you avoided his gaze. “why don’t you like me? serious question..” you sighed, finally giving him your full undivided attention. you opened your mouth to speak but no words came out. “what?” you acted like you didn’t hear him the first time, wracking your brain for any kind of answer. he smiled teasingly, pointing a finger at you. “i asked you why you don’t like me and you can’t even answer me!” you waved him off, facing the other way to hide the smile on your lips.

truthfully, you didn’t really know who rafe was. like just by himself as an individual. you knew that his friends were all assholes though, including the one who your best friend was willing to drop everything for. “i hate your friends,” you started, “and you are who you keep company with, sooo..” rafe cleared his throat as the roller coaster came to a stop. the inside of the ‘love tunnel’ was lit up with baby cherubs along the walls, red hearts and fairy lights adorning the interior.

“me and my friends are very different from each other.. i think you’d be surprised.” you hummed, adjusting the pendant on your necklace. “maybe..” the other roller coaster cart strolled in from the other side, the seats empty. “i guess it’s a good thing that i tagged along, since you would’ve been all by yourself if i didn’t.”

you glanced over at him, his blue eyes standing out in the pinkish lighting. “..yeah, i guess.” rafe’s head shot up as soon as the words left your mouth. “you really think so?” he scooted closer, the action making you laugh. “don’t push it.” you warned him, in which he held his hands up defensively. “okay, okay!” rafe had this smitten look on his face as if making you smile was his life’s greatest achievement.

“so you told me why you didn’t like me, which is fair, but i want a real chance at proving you wrong. can you at least give me that?” rafe hesitantly rested a hand on your knee, the hopeful look in his eyes making your heart melt into a soft puddle of mush. “hmm..” you pretended to think, the anticipation making rafe’s leg bounce. “okay. only under one condition though..” rafe nodded frantically.

“anything.”

“tell me why you like me so much when i avoid you like the plague, and never seemingly look in your direction.. like ever.” the man next to you snorted. “you want me to go down my full list? ‘cause we’ll be sitting here all night—” just then, the ride operator’s voice boomed through the intercom speakers from inside the tunnel. “hi, i’m so sorry for the inconvenience, but we’re having some technical difficulties and my electrician guy says it’ll be at least an hour or two before you could leave. i promise to issue a full refund once you two are off.”

you and rafe looked at each other half concerned and half amused. “..so, you were saying?”

[be4chywritez]

loathing? | luke hughes

luke hughes x fem!reader

rec: so luke gives bfb vibes so hard for some reason please write something like best friend's brother or like enemies to lovers

recs are open + prompt list

beachy’s masterlist🐚

Jack’s apartment felt like a second home to you at this point. You were always here, whether Jack invited you over or you just let yourself in. It wasn’t your fault his couch was more comfortable than yours, and besides, his fridge was always stocked with your favorite snacks.

Unfortunately, Jack’s apartment came with an unwanted addition—Luke Hughes.

Luke was the embodiment of an annoying little brother, except he wasn’t your brother, which made it worse. Every time you were over, he was there, too, sulking, chirping, or generally making your life difficult.

It started with little things. He’d steal your snacks, change the channel when you were watching something, or conveniently take the last bottle of water from the fridge. Once, you caught him wearing one of your hoodies just to piss you off. The rivalry was childish, petty, and utterly exhausting.

Then came the pranks. You swapped his protein powder with flour. He replaced your chapstick with hot sauce. Jack refused to take sides, claiming you were both equally insufferable.

One afternoon, after Luke had hidden your shoes before you had to leave, you retaliated by locking him out on the balcony in the middle of winter. Jack had to let him back in after twenty minutes, and Luke had vowed revenge ever since.

And now, it had come to this.

“Move, you’re on my side of the couch.”

You looked up from your phone, arching a perfectly sculpted brow as Luke stood over you, arms crossed. His stupid, messy hair was damp from his post-practice shower, and he was still in sweatpants and a hoodie, looking as effortlessly good as ever—not that you’d ever admit it.

“Your side?” You scoffed, stretching out even further. Your legs, bare thanks to the tiny shorts you wore, draped over the cushions as you made yourself comfortable. “Last I checked, this couch belongs to Jack.”

Luke exhaled sharply, clearly already at his limit with you today. “Yeah, and Jack’s not here, which means I get priority seating.”

“That’s not how it works, Hughes.” You gave him a slow, taunting smile. “You snooze, you lose. Go sit in the chair like a good little rookie.”

Luke rolled his eyes, but instead of arguing further, he did the worst possible thing—he sat down. Right on top of you.

“Luke!” You shrieked, shoving at his solid frame, but he didn’t budge.

“You wouldn’t move, so now I’m sitting.” His smirk was infuriating.

“You’re crushing me, you absolute menace.” You wriggled under him, but it only made him press down more, laughing at your struggle.

“Not my fault you take up the whole couch.”

“Not my fault you have no concept of personal space.”

“Oh, please. You love the attention.”

That made you pause, and Luke must have noticed the slight falter in your expression because his grin widened. You shoved at his chest, hard enough that he finally moved off you, but the damage was done. You were flustered, and he knew it.

“You’re such a pain in the ass,” you muttered, sitting up and crossing your arms.

“Right back at you, princess.”

The nickname, as condescending as it was, sent a jolt through you. Maybe it was the way his voice dropped slightly when he said it, or maybe it was the way he was looking at you now—like he was daring you to snap back.

And snap, you did.

One second, you were shoving at his shoulder. The next, his hands were on your waist, and your lips crashed together. It was messy, desperate, all of the pent-up frustration spilling over into something way hotter than either of you had planned. His hands gripped your hips like he’d been waiting for this, and when you bit down on his lower lip, he groaned against your mouth.

Your fingers curled in his hoodie, tugging him closer, and he gladly followed, pressing you back against the couch as his mouth moved against yours, demanding and hungry. The fire between you had finally found its outlet, and there was no stopping it now.

The air between you was thick with something unspoken when you finally broke apart, both of you breathing heavily. Luke’s forehead rested against yours for a fleeting moment before he pulled back, a knowing smirk playing at his lips.

“Didn’t see that coming, did you?” he teased, his voice lower now, rougher.

You rolled your eyes, even as your pulse hammered. “Shut up.”

He grinned but didn’t argue. Instead, he reached for your hand, intertwining your fingers with a confidence that sent another shiver down your spine.

“C’mon,” he murmured, tugging you up from the couch. “Before Jack gets back.”

A thrill shot through you as you followed him down the hallway, your stomach twisting in anticipation. This was dangerous, reckless—but you weren’t stopping now.

Not when sneaking off with Luke Hughes had suddenly become the most exciting thing you’d done all night.

The near-misses started piling up after that night. A stolen kiss in the kitchen while Jack was in the other room. Luke slipping his hand under the table at dinner, brushing against your thigh as you tried to keep a straight face. One night, Jack almost walked in on you tangled up in Luke’s bed, forcing you to dive under the covers while Luke casually pretended to be scrolling on his phone.

It was thrilling. Addictive. But eventually, the excitement started to wear thin, especially for Luke.

One night, after slipping out of Jack’s apartment and into Luke’s room again, he hesitated before pulling you close. There was something different in his touch, something hesitant.

“This isn’t just—physical for you, is it?” he finally asked, voice low but vulnerable in a way you’d never heard before.

You blinked at him, thrown off by the sudden shift. “What?”

Luke exhaled sharply, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just—sometimes it feels like that’s all we are. And I don’t want that.”

You studied him, heart clenching at the uncertainty in his eyes. “Luke, I wouldn’t be sneaking around for just anyone. This is more. I want more. I thought you knew that.”

His jaw tensed. “I want more too. I just didn’t know if you felt the same.”

You reached out, threading your fingers through his. “You’re not just a hookup to me, Luke. You never were.”

His shoulders sagged in relief, and he pulled you in, pressing his forehead to yours. “Good. Because I think I’m falling for you.”

You swallowed, emotions thick in your throat. “Then fall, Hughes. I’ve already fallen.”

Jack found out in the most Jack way possible—by walking in on you and Luke curled up together on the couch.

He froze in the doorway, blinking as if he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “Are you—kidding me?”

Luke groaned, dropping his head back. “Well, that could’ve gone better.”

Jack pointed a finger between the two of you. “How long?”

You hesitated. “Uh… a while?”

Jack groaned. “You two are the worst.”

But there was no real anger in his voice—just exasperation. And when Luke laced his fingers through yours, squeezing lightly, you knew it was all worth it.

[captain-huggy-bear]

The Sleeves

Pairing: Quinn Hughes x Short Fem!Reader

Warnings: Quinn thinking you're hot af, so slightly mature in that sense but nothing extreme.

Summary: Jersey sleeves are just a little too long for you.

Notes: Reader is described as short but not a specific height. I, a short person, could be wrong here, but I assume the taller you are the longer your arms are hense the height focus in this fic. Also it's a 43 Hughes jersey not Quinn's own one because we're all different sizes and I don't want anyone to be unable to imagine it, y'know????

Had this idea cause my Jack Jersey has super long sleeves and it makes me feel safe and silly (I'm getting a Quinn jersey for X-mas from my brother and i'm very excited)

It's baffling actually, when you really think about it, that you'd been dating a pro-Hockey player for nearly 8 months and hadn't owned a single jersey until now. Sure, Quinn had tried to convince you to just borrow one of his, his desire to see you in his jersey practically an obsession, but half the time they were sweat stained and stinky and you kind of just wanted one designed for you and your body. So you'd gone to his games in just your normal clothes, sometimes you wore the stupid t-shirt Jack and Luke got you with Quinn's face on it for your birthday, but you'd never worn a hockey jersey.

This had seemed a shame and you'd decided enough was enough. You went to all Quinn's home games and tried to go to as many away games as possible, you thought that surely you should, as a dutiful girlfriend wear a #43 jersey. It felt wrong, somehow, not to have at least one, to wear one at least once.

So you'd bought one, taken your time considering which version to get, which size you preferred. You hadn't told Quinn because any time you wanted to buy something for yourself he always did it for you, claiming he had more money than he knew what to do with. As sweet as it was, sometimes you wanted to spend your own hard earned money. Plus, you'd wanted it to be a surprise. It was practically on his bucket list at this point, it felt like something...big.

So you'd kept it quiet, bought a #43 Hughes black skate jersey in a size just this side of too big, oversized for the comfort factor. What you hadn't anticipated was how you felt wearing it...or Quinn's reaction.

It was just fabric, just a jersey but the moment you slipped it on you felt...safe. The fabric was soft against your skin, not tight or claustrophobic and the sleeves...oh the sleeves were your favourite part. You were short, that was a fact of life, you hadn't grown upwards since you were 14 and you'd made your peace with it. Didn't really have a choice, given that you spent all your time around hockey players. Some of whom were absolute giants, Meyers came straight to mind. Quinn was considered a smaller player in the business and even he made you feel short. Being short, had the effect though of making the sleeves of your jersey gigantic.

You couldn't really describe the sheer joy you felt when the sleeves went past your fingertips absolutely swallowing your hands. You felt like a little kid again, you felt comfy, and safe. Maybe it was scratching some sort of anxiety itch in your brain or maybe it was that you'd missed this feeling from when you were a kid, the feeling of being so so small that everything else felt giant, but you loved it either way.

Your plan was to hide the jersey until Quinn's next game, ready to surprise him when he looked for you during warmups, ready for him to realise you were finally wearing his name and number. Something he'd been not so subtly pushing for months every single time he conveniently left a jersey out next to your game day clothes before he left for the rink.

The moment he left for the game after a goodbye kiss and some I love yous, you'd put the jersey he'd left on the bed away (no matter how many times he washed it it still had the lingering smell of hockey...) and reached into the back of the wardrobe, underneath a series of boxes and miscellaneous items, for your own. You'd hidden it well, so far back, it was actually a struggling to get to.

You'd slipped it on over your jumper and layers, letting the sleeves fall over your fingertips. That familiar safe, giddy feeling filling you as you twirled in a circle in front of the mirror before dropping your shoulders, closing your eyes and just enjoying it. There was something about the physical sensation that was enjoyable, the way it felt, the sense of comfort it brought, but it went past that. It felt good to look in the mirror and see Quinn's number on your arms, across your back, his surname plastered in the large font. It felt good to wear a reminder of him.

You opened your eyes after a few moments of flapping the long sleeves about, a childish joy in the flap of fabric. Your sight snagging in the mirror on the doorframe behind you, Quinn leaning a shoulder against it, kit bag at his feet. He had softest smile on his face, the sort of smile that made his eyes crinkle gently and had his teeth poking out just so.

You spin around to face him startled, not expecting him to be back. Your fingers meeting and twisting together, hidden beneath the lengths of sleeve fabric.

"Did you...did you forget something?"

It's obvious to him that you're trying to avoid the elephant in the room, the surprise he's clearly ruined. It's not his jersey, but it is and it's all he's wanted to see you in for months now...Fuck, you look good in his jersey. You've brought it in a size that's just the right sort of oversized, swallowing familiar curves under layers of black, yellow and red fabric. How you make something that hides every part of you look so good he doesn't really understand, but he thinks that maybe that just says more about how he feels about you than anything else.

Your hands are invisible, swallowed by fabric and his name and number across your back were practically searerd into his retina. A memory pressed into the pages of his mind. It's stupid, possessive, ridiculous, caveman-ish but, fuck, he likes that you're saying you're his, likes that everyone can see it. That it's his name across your back.

"My number looks good on you..." Quinn bites down on his bottom lip, tilts his head to the side as his eyes trail over you. The way he's looking at you, you'd think you were stood there naked, not swallowed in fabric. It makes your cheeks warm.

"Quinn..." You let out and embarrassed whine, hands coming up to cover your face as he trails his way closer, feet padding softly across the carpet. His gear forgotten in the doorway, the sense of urgency to get the last piece he forgot and get to the rink, gone. Game? What game?

You feel his presence first, feet stopping close to your own, his form towering over you as he wraps his hands gently around your wrists and tugs them free from your face. He's practically grinning at you, that one strand of brunet hair falling across his brow as he leans down towards you.

"The sleeves too, you look cute in it, fuck..." He tugs on the ends of the sleeves, examining the way your hands are swallowed by the fabric. The cute wiggle of them from underneath before being swallowed whole.

"This for me, pretty girl?"

You nod, feeling oddly shy in front of him as his eyes keep following your form like he can't quiet get enough. It's surreal, you've had boyfriends who didn't even look at you like that when you were dolled to the nines, you're just in a jersey, some ordinary clothes, everything covered, nothing special, "...It was supposed to be a surprise...for tonight."

"Ah," he fills in the blanks. He's ruined it by coming back unexpectedly, because he forgot his stupid mouthguard of all things. He imagines it though, being on the ice, looking for you like he always does, his eyes gravitating towards you like he's stuck in your orbit. He can see the way you'd look in the lights of the rink, his number proudly displayed. Could see the way he'd probably stop dead on the ice, probably get a bunch of shit from the guys, can see Petey shoving him with a laugh, but he'd not care at all because you're finally wearing his jersey and he's been waiting for this for months.

"Can you, uh, never take it off?" he laughs, tugging you closer, arms wrapping around you as his fingers trail across the letters making up his name on the back. Memorising the feel of it, his name on you, finally.

"Quinn..."

"What? You look...fuck, you look so good in my jersey, baby, like...unreal..." He means it and you know he means it because he's got that sparkle in his eyes that screams his feelings out loud without a single word.

"...you have a game to get to.." you mumble, face pressing into his chest, trying to hide from him because only Quinn can make you quite this bashful after this length of time together. Only Quinn can seemingly disarm you completely.

He presses a kiss to the top of your hair, cheek pushing against the crown of your head as he rocks you side to side.

"Mmm, you're not gonna take this off, right? You're still going to wear it to the game for me, baby?" There's a little slither of fear that he might have embarrassed you, that you'll hide the jersey away somewhere and he'll never see you in it again.

"...Yeah, i'll still wear it for you..."

He thinks this might just be what he wants for the rest of his life. You in his jersey, you with his name across your back, you...with the name you might one day share proudly taking up space for everyone to see.

In that moment, he realises, he's a complete fucking goner for you. He's well and truly fucked in the best sort of way.

[hayatheauthor]

7 POC Architectural Inspirations for Your Fantasy World

Fed up with (most) authors sticking to the Renaissance ‘white’ castles so here’s some inspiration (and a gentle nudge to branch out because I can’t stand them anymore): 

1. Mahals (India)

Ornate domes, intricate carvings, and symmetrical layouts. Mehals take decades to be made and are intricately brought to life with beautiful detailings, take the Shish Mahal's mirror work, Jharokhas, the Pietra Dura Mughal inlays, and classic Jaali work that female characters sneek peeks through to watch the throne room from afar. 

2. Qilā (Fortresses of the Mughal Empire)

If you want something more in tune with a war-based story Qilas are a good option. They’re brought to life with massive stone walls, gateways with pointed arches, and courtyards for strategic defense. Qilas are intended for protection but many hold a rustic mix of Persian and Indian architecture which provides that aesthetic charm writers like. 

3. Shiro (Japanese Castles)

Shiros are Japanese castles with many buildings within their walls, such as the Goten (palace). I used a Shiro for my book and it is so convenient if you have a larger cast, like a court system/multiple families. If you want to know all the structures, names, what they look like, etc. just google ‘Nawabari’ (the Japanese term for a Shiro’s layout). 

4. Kasbahs (North Africa)

Kasbahs are native to Morocco and perfect if you need something minimalistic yet pretty. Their structures are very similar to that of a Qila since they both have a pragmatic, angular build. However, Kasbahs are more earthy with thick clay walls, small windows and subtle yet pretty detailing. 

5. Qasr (Middle Eastern Palaces)

Qasrs are Arab palaces that feature ancient Bedouin architecture. However, there is no ‘one size fits all’ Qasr because this word is used to describe both palaces and forts. You can have a ‘qasr’ that is a palace with sprawling courtyards, marble arches, and curvy turrets, or a ‘qasr’ that is a Bedouin fort with structured cylindrical towers. PS: castle = Qusur. 

6. Baray Temples (Cambodia)

Barays, like those at Angkor Wat, symbolise spirituality. Like many Asian temples, they are typically surrounded by water and reservoirs. The complexes feature intricate stone carvings, steep steps, and a flat triangular top (Google if you cant visualise it please). Unlike most structures on this list, they are typically made using Laterite or Earth/clay. 

7. Mudbrick Mosques (West Africa)

While South Asia uses intricate craftsmanship for their detailing, Mudbrick Mosques have smoothly carved pillars, tapering walls and flat domes that are strategic yet beautiful. The beige tones blend seamlessly into the dessert with wooden beams protruding from its walls to make it stand out. I would recommend looking at the Great Mosque of Djenné; truly a masterpiece. 

I've mainly covered types I've either seen irl or used in my writing please don't come at me if I haven't included something from your culture, you can comment it.

Looking For More Writing Tips And Tricks? 

Check out the rest of Quillology with Haya; a blog dedicated to writing and publishing tips for authors!

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[scoupsakakitty]

Can you do a fic about y/n being sick and trying to hide it from seventeen, but they find out and take care of y/n?

Lean on Me | idol!Svt x idol!Reader | 14th Member | fluff

The dorm was unusually quiet for a Thursday evening. Usually, it was alive with laughter, arguments over who stole whose snacks, and the sound of video games echoing from the living room. But tonight, the members of Seventeen were scattered some in their rooms, some out running errands, and a few in the practice room refining choreography.

You sat curled up on the corner of the couch, wrapped tightly in a blanket, scrolling mindlessly through your phone. The screen blurred in and out of focus as your vision swam, but you ignored it. The ache in your head had been steadily building all day, and no amount of water or quick naps seemed to help. Your throat burned, and every muscle in your body felt like it weighed twice as much as it should.

Still, you bit your lip and pushed through it.

You couldn’t let them find out.

It wasn’t that you didn’t trust them—quite the opposite. They were your family, your brothers, your support system. But they already had so much to deal with—comebacks, rehearsals, performances—and the last thing you wanted was to add yourself to their list of worries.

You coughed into your sleeve and winced. Bad move.

“Y/N?”

You froze.

Joshua stood in the doorway, his usual warm smile quickly fading as his eyes scanned your slouched posture and pale complexion.

“Hey,” you croaked, immediately clearing your throat to try and sound normal. “Did you need something?”

He raised an eyebrow and stepped closer. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah! Totally fine.” You sat up straighter, hoping it made you look less like someone who was about to collapse. “Just… tired.”

Joshua didn’t look convinced, but before he could press further, Jeonghan appeared behind him.

“What’s going on?” Jeonghan asked, his sharp gaze locking onto you like a laser.

“Y/N’s acting weird,” Joshua said without hesitation.

You shot him a look. Traitor.

“I’m not acting weird,” you insisted, but your voice cracked halfway through the sentence.

Jeonghan tilted his head, stepping closer until he could crouch in front of you. His eyes softened immediately.

“You’re burning up.”

Your stomach dropped.

“I’m not—”

“Don’t even try,” he cut you off. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

Because I didn’t want you to worry. Because I thought I could handle it. Because I didn’t want to be a burden.

The words stuck in your throat.

“Jeonghan? Joshua? What’s going on?”

And just like that, the floodgates opened.

One by one, the members began trickling into the living room, drawn by the commotion. Seungkwan, who’d just returned from the convenience store, immediately dropped his bags and rushed over. Seungcheol appeared moments later, his expression morphing from confusion to concern in seconds.

“Y/N, what’s wrong?” Seungcheol demanded.

“I’m fine,” you tried to say again, but the words sounded weaker this time, less believable.

“You’re not fine,” Mingyu cut in, crossing his arms. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”

“I told you guys, it’s just—”

“Nope.” Hoshi pointed at you with all the authority of a dance leader mid-rehearsal. “Stop talking. We’re taking care of you.”

“I don’t need—”

“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Seungcheol said firmly.

Before you could protest further, Woozi and Vernon were already rearranging the couch to make it more comfortable. DK sprinted off to grab pillows and blankets, while Joshua hurried to the kitchen to make tea.

Within minutes, you were bundled up and surrounded by Seventeen in full-on caretaker mode.

Mingyu returned from the kitchen with a steaming bowl of samgyetang—traditional Korean ginseng chicken soup, known for its healing properties. The rich aroma filled the room, and despite your fatigue, your stomach grumbled softly.

“Careful, it’s hot,” Mingyu said as he set the tray down in front of you. His usual playful demeanor was replaced by focused determination, and you couldn’t help but feel touched by the effort he’d put into making the dish.

“You really didn’t have to—”

“Yes, I did,” he interrupted, pulling up a chair beside you. “You barely ate anything today, and you need something warm in your stomach.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but one look at Mingyu’s stern expression and you quickly decided against it. Instead, you let him carefully blow on a spoonful of the broth before holding it out to you.

“Try this.”

You hesitated for a second, then leaned forward and took the bite. The warm, savory flavor spread through you instantly, soothing your throat and settling in your stomach like a comforting hug.

Mingyu smiled. “Good, right?”

You nodded, suddenly realizing just how hungry you were.

“Don’t forget the ginseng,” Joshua said, sitting down nearby. “It’ll help you get your energy back.”

“Mingyu’s cooking can heal anything,” DK added with a grin. “I bet you’ll feel 100% better by tomorrow.”

“Only if you finish the whole bowl,” Seungkwan said firmly. “No excuses.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the smile tugging at your lips.

The rest of the evening passed in a blur of warmth and laughter.

Seungcheol took charge like the leader he was, delegating tasks and making sure you had everything you needed. Joshua and Jeonghan stayed close, constantly checking your temperature and refilling your tea.

Later, when the exhaustion became too much to fight, you fell asleep surrounded by the sound of Seventeen’s quiet conversations and laughter.

You woke up briefly to feel someone tucking another blanket around you.

“Sleep,” Seungcheol’s voice whispered.

And for the first time in days, you did.

The next morning, you woke up feeling a lot better and not just physically.

As you sat up and stretched, you noticed a note taped to the coffee table.

———————————————————————————-

**“Y/N—

We went to practice but didn’t want to wake you. Mingyu left more samgyetang in the fridge, and Joshua made extra tea. Seungcheol says to text him the moment you wake up.

P.S. Don’t even THINK about trying to do any chores today. Rest. Or else. —SVT”**

You laughed softly and leaned back against the cushions, the blanket still wrapped around your shoulders.

No matter what, they always had your back.

And honestly? You wouldn’t trade them for the world.

————————————————————————————-

[postcardsfromheapside]

This game has been out since Halloween.

In that time, there have been numerous Veilguard positive posts in which patient, loving, wonderful, insightful and intelligent individuals attempt to impart lore onto a fanbase which doesn't deserve their time and attention.

I can't believe I'm running across posts made within the past five days which express disgust and frustration towards the devs over things which have been explained in great detail multiple times on this site, BUT IN THE DAMN GAME.

AND Y'ALL KEEP COMPLAINING THE GAME TELLS BUT DOESN'T SHOW. AND YOU DON'T EVEN LISTEN OR WATCH.

"the crows are presented as wholesome" - they are not. this site has a crow fanbase which has run off and lionized Viago as Daddy, conveniently ignored all the in-game details which either hint or baldly state things Definitely Aren't Cool, and generally fetishized what it means to be a Crow because of Zevran and Lucanis. Then the same people, or others who weren't paying proper attention, whined when the headcanon crowded out the actual in-game material, and they said "Antiva is whitewashed." There have been multiple posts about this.

"slaves are meant to be everywhere in Tevinter and we don't see that" - we aren't everywhere, we're specifically in Docktown which is poor and people generally can't afford slaves there, but we do see evidence of slavery, and we run around with abolitionists and help save people from fascist slavers and free people who will either be slaves or victims of blood magic so IDK what to tell you, there have been multiple posts explaining this too, maybe leave your slave or savior fetish somewhere else.

"Racism is supposed to be rampant" - fuck off. I actually will not be explaining this because for once it was nice not to be called a slur. If you need this to feel "immersed" or to feel there are actual problems, I need you to check yourself fucking hard. If you want to masquerade what it feels like to experience bigotry, go play one of the prior games. This has also been discussed in multiple posts.

"Handling pure lyrium is fine now" no handling the dagger is fine Solas cleansed it, the dagger woke something up in Harding specifically she talks about how some dwarves are connected to the stone, she previously had not been one of them and maybe the dagger woke something up in her, or did you need a pop up explaining this? Were you paying attention during cut scenes and dialogue?

"Adult Dalish without vallaslin" - in the 10 years since Inquisition/Trespasser, doubtless some dalish have come to adulthood and found out what assholes their gods were and made the decision not to go through that specific cultural rites. Or maybe city elves joined the Dalish. Who knows who made up the elf population at that ritual site. Elves are not a monolith. We've made multiple, multiple posts about elves not being monoliths.

"Solas' opinion on blood magic went from neutral to negative" SOLAS FUCKING LIES. We've made multiple posts about Solas lying, if you need this explained further I suggest you play the game all over again, he lies to you throughout the entire game.

"Re-write of the after credits scene in Inquisition to recontextualise the Flemeth and Solas interaction" it's recontextualized because now we know who and what they were to each other. Learning new information does that. This is literally what happens all the time in science and history. You recontextualize what you thought you knew with new information. You're supposed to change your position, not whine about how the new information makes everything different.

These are just some of the things I pulled from a list on a post in which someone was really just upset about everything. Everything. Varric, Morrigan, Solas, everything. But I can't take their criticisms seriously, because they're upset that "too much was told" and "not enough shown" and yet didn't even pay attention to DA lore or in-game dialogue or context clues around the world of Northern Thedas to answer their own questions.

Everything in this game makes complete sense if you use lore from prior games and a single iota of imagination to see how it fits. We've had many delightful posts discussing this, seeing how things could be explained, when approaching the game from a place of curiosity rather than being upset because personal headcanons weren't satisfied or long-held expectations weren't met.

[mayakern]

A Note From Our Founder (and some other things)/ The World's Longest Newsletter

Hey, y’all. The past week has brought us a lot of extremes: first the fear, horror, shame and despair as we realized just how dire the business’ financial situation was… and then relief, gratitude, hope, joy—so many overwhelming feelings I don’t even have the words for them all. Y’all showed up for us in a big way and I cannot even begin to express how thankful I am for that. Many of you have followed the store for years. You’ve watched as it’s grown—bloomed—and seen me do the same, as for better or worse, my identity and the business’ are so closely intertwined. So much of my life is invested in this little indie clothing brand that the prospect of it hurtling towards failure made me feel like I, too, was hurtling towards failure. But you all showed up and helped us avoid a huge crisis and for that I cannot even begin to say how thankful I am. How thankful we all are. Not only did sales rise to meet our crisis, but you showed us such an overwhelming amount of kindness—sharing our store on social media and with friends, offering us words of encouragement, telling us just how much you love our clothing and how much it has meant to you—that will touch me forever. We’re not quite out of the woods yet—our immediate payroll concerns have been addressed, but we’ll still have to get a bit scrappy and roll with the punches for the next few months, if not longer. But thanks to all of you, now our problems look solvable and not like unavoidable catastrophes. Thank you. Maya Founder/Co-Owner Maya Kern LLC

In case you haven’t heard, we’re still running our sale—almost everything in our store, including garments that were already put on clearance, are 20-50% off. Many items are being sold at or below the amount we paid to make them to help us recoup some of our production costs. Some of our buttery soft viscose shirts are as cheap as $9 right now! This sale will be ending Sunday night at midnight US central time, so don’t miss it!

Also, we heard from y’all that our store’s auto region detection was buggy as heck, so for your convenience we’ve added a “Store Location” drop down to the top of our store page. Many of our items are already sold out in the US, but some of those sold out garments are still in stock in Canada.

We’ve heard y’all loud and clear—many of y’all have asked us when our petticoats will return and have also suggested that we run some preorders to help us secure funds for production. So from January 16th at 12pm Central to January 30th at 12pm central, we’ll be running preorders for our much loved petticoats! For those of you unfamiliar with our petticoats, they are a lightweight, sensory friendly under layer that adds the perfect amount of volume under our midi skirts. While many petticoats cut corners by either offering only a limited size range or by stacking layer upon layer of scratchy, flimsy tulle to create the desired volume while growing heavier with every added layer, our petticoats use fewer layers of a stiffer, higher quality tulle that maintains its volume under the weight of a skirt. Because all tulle regardless of quality can be quite scratchy, we also added a satin slip as the base layer of our petticoats to make sure that they are sensory friendly and non-irritating.

This time they’ll be available in classic black and lovely blush. We’ll also be offering a small discount to anyone who buys a petticoat during preorders. (Please keep in mind that the blush petticoat photos are mockups and so the final color may be slightly different)

And lastly, if you’ve made it this far, we have some production news! I could not be happier about how much y’all have loved the cozy matcha set—they’re already sold out in the US (tho our Canada store still has a few left!). Creating this loungewear set has been on my bucket list for so long and I am ecstatic that y’all share my love for them. Thanks to how good the sales have been, we’ve been able to plan more cozy sets for later this year, even though they are quite expensive to make. First up will be a spring/summer version with short sleeves and shorts. These will have a different, less warm interior but will still be made of 100% cotton.

I have some ideas rolling around for a new cozy set or two for the end of 2025, but I’ll just let y’all stay curious about that. In truth I am so excited about the next winter concept that I can hardly bear to keep the secret, but I shouldn’t get ahead of myself.

Thanks so much for reading and have a great rest of your day!

[k-hotchoisan]

Hii Sunshine hope you doing well 🫶🏻💗If it’s convenient, can you write one where San is a black cat hybrid, in heat and needy but he is afraid to hurt y/n [my size kink is kicking in] but eventually he gets her ✨help✨??

pretty kitty 🐾

<san x fem!reader>

San is the prettiest kitty—even when he’s doing his best to hold back during his heat cycle when all he wants to do is to breed you over and over.

Genres/warnings: smut, pwp, kitty!san is in heat and he’s whiny 😫, size kink, breeding, cream pie, orgasms after orgasms, san just cannot get enough, oral (M receive), soft dom!san, biting, reader and san call each other kitty!

A/N: I’m back?????? and doing this as a little warm-up 😔 life has been overwhelming and my mental health has not been mental healthing unfortunately. I’m presenting this as my apology,, I hope everyone is doing well, and thank you for being patient with me, always <3

Word count: 2.8K

Tag list: @bro-atz @diamond-3 @mcarebearsstuff @choisansplushie @voicesinmyhead-rc @pre1ttyies @hwallazia @songmingisthighs @yeosangiess @interweab @mylovelymito @softwsan @yourlocaljonghoe @itza-meee @ywtf @jeon-ify

Something is up with Choi San. Your hybrid feline partner has been exhibiting strange behaviours for the past week or so, at least, from what you noticed. Initially, it started with him snuggling against you, which was quite the common behaviour of him, but then you swore you heard him whimper softly from time to time. Then it escalated to him latching his blunt feline teeth against your skin, nibbling and licking you sometimes, leaving marks on your skin in his wake. It would have seemed like his usual behaviour, that is, until he suddenly started pulling away so suddenly, and he would spend most of his time locked away in his room. You wonder if you should interfere, but by then he would come out like nothing happened, wearing the pretty smile he always had before pressing kisses onto your forehead.

Well, you got your answer one night.

San is curled up against you as usual, his head on your chest, his arms wrapped around your waist, his tail swishing on the couch. His ears are perked up, as he tries to concentrate on the program running on the television. 

But he can’t seem to. His eyes are gradually glazing out, his tail slowly pulling straight and his ears are slowly pointing to the front. San shuts his eyes when he feels your fingers brush against his dark locks, then scratching the back of his ears. He takes a shaky breath, biting his tongue in the process as his sensitivity climbs up in levels dangerously quick once more, evident by how much his pants are tightening at his crotch.

You feel your hybrid still and finally look down at San, wondering why he suddenly froze. Then you realise how pink his cheeks are getting.

“Sannie”, you call out. “Are you okay there?” Your hands press against his cheeks, and for a split second, you think he’s running a fever, which shoots panic right into your veins. 

San only whimpers in reply, his ears are downcast, and he presses himself against you, rubbing slightly in any feeble attempt to relieve the discomfort, and his erection makes things slowly click in your head.

“I’m fine,” is all he’s able to mutter before he bites his bottom lip, drawing blood. He attempts to pull away before his dick starts to take over his brain, but your hands force him to stay seated beside you. 

“Sannie”, you call out once more, trying to get the feline to focus. Your eyes dart to his pants, noticing the dark stain that’s beginning to pool on his pants.

“Are you in heat?”

San tries to blink away his tears, his hard cock starting to fucking hurt the more he’s just leaving it like that. He hates this funny feeling, like nothing can satisfy him no matter what he does. It’s not the first time he’s felt this way, and he hates how weird this all feels. San has always tried to be a considerate hybrid, showering you with so much love that he made it his life mission to suffocate you with it ever since you adopted him. He’s tried to suppress his ruts, deciding to take suppressants initially. It works, at least until the pharmacy had run out of stock for the month. Now, all that is flooding in his mind is how he wants you pinned under him, forced to take his cock deep in your pussy, and he’s driving him fucking nuts. He tells himself he can manage it, and he does his best, but fucking his fist can only hold him off for so long. 

And now it’s his limit. 

He knows you would say yes to help him and he detests the idea of hurting you, especially in a crazed frenzy that he’s unable to hold off and all he can think of is just holding you down and fucking you. Hard.

San breaks off eye contact, which is starting to tick you off. Your hands are now cupping his cheeks.

“I can take care of it myself”, San replies, trying to ignore the way his body feels like it’s ignited into flames whenever your touch lingers on him for a little too long. 

“But it’s not working isn’t it?” You counter, which draws a frustrated expression from San. His body is tense, and it’s taking all of his strength to not pin you down and just take you on the couch right there and then. “You know it’s okay to ask me for help right?” 

“I don’t wanna hurt you”, he mutters, his gaze dropping to the seat of the couch. 

“And I know you won’t”, you reply, closing the distance between the both of you. San’s heartbeat quickens at the proximity and your words. He’s so enamored by the fact that you trust him that much, and it’s driving him fucking insane. 

“It’s different when I’m not myself”, San attempts to counter once more, fighting with any remaining rational thought before it gets completely flushed out by his cock. 

“What makes you think I can’t take it?” You ask rhetorically, and that makes San freeze in response. He parts his lips to say something but you cut him off- 

“Come on, Sannie. You know I trust you with my body.” 

He swallows hard, the remainder of his rationale dissipating when you’re already tugging the waistband of his pants, pulling the clothing off as his red and angry cock springs out, wet and thick with slick already. 

It’s the not the first time you’re sucking him off, it’s not the first time San is gonna fuck you, but his cock just seems extra thick when he’s in heat. 

Not that you were complaining. 

Beads of perspiration trickle down San’s temples. He feels like his body is on fire right now—every area of skin your fingertips brush against is making him feel like he’s about to combust. He’s reminding himself to breathe and relax, but his heartbeat is doing otherwise. 

And when he watches you taking his full length into his mouth, he barely holds himself together, the pleasure shooting up his veins when he feels your throat close and squeeze his cock. His hands reach out to the back of your head, and he’s doing his best not to just push you down and make you choke. 

You hear his grunts slowly turn into whines, the way he gently squeezes his thighs against your head, and his toes are curled. 

“T-that’s it. Fuck. Oh fuck! Deeper, deeper. Please”, San cries, unknowingly already pushing your head further down his cock, and he barely registers you gagging. But all you’re feeling is slick lubing your cunt and butterflies in your stomach from the way San is looking so desperate just to get off.  It’s so fucking adorable.

You pull back, listening to the whines from San, watching the way the thick and white fluids bubble from his cock and leak down his shaft, while he watches you pull your shirt over your head, your tits bouncing slightly for his mouth to gape and for his eyes to fuck. You lower yourself back to his pretty dick, giving his shaft kitten licks from the bottom, San’s hands immediately tangling against your hair, pushing you impossibly close to his cock. 

A few more teasing licks later, you finally take his cock in your mouth, your tongue running up and down the thick shaft while you bobbed your head, and San is grasping at any final ounce of sanity he has left. His moans are so desperate and pretty, and you’re soaking in the way he’s so tensed up as you’re pulling his orgasm closer to the surface. His tail is coiled tight against your arm. 

“Cumming. Your mouth feels so fucking good—“, his words being cut off when his mind completely blanks out, washed in white as his cum seeps past your lips when his cock leaves your throat. 

“You’re so fucking pretty when you cum, kitty”, you tease as you wipe your lips with a piece of tissue, not realising your partner is staring down at you with glazed eyes, that he’s barely satiated. 

Before you could process anything, San’s thick arms wrap around your waist, then he fucking heaves you off the couch, and starts walking towards your shared bedroom. 

You fall onto the bed, watching your feline partner’s pupils dilate, his tail now long straight, and his ears completely perked up.

San’s lips aim for yours, his kisses sloppy and desperate, his tongue going scavenging every corner of your mouth before he grazes his fangs against your lips and pulls back. You stare back at him with confusion hinted with a strange sense of eagerness. San doesn’t fuck you during his ruts often, mostly because he opts for the suppressants, but when he does…

He pulls the remainder of your clothes off you, swallowing hard while he fucks you with his eyes, especially at the way your pussy is just dripping for him, glistening with slick under the lights. 

San leans in closer, his body weight pinning you underneath him as his cum stains your pelvic area, “No tapping out now, kitty.”

He doesn’t give you a chance to answer, because he lines his cock up with your cunt and pushes in, making you gasp at how fucking thick he is, even when he just cummed barely minutes before. 

“You gotta relax for me, babe. Fuck. You’re so fucking tight”, he hisses, feeling your cunt stretching to accommodate him. You’re in awe—the switch between being desperate and domineering when San is in heat never ceases to amaze you. But you barely have time to let your thoughts manifest because San has your legs spread wide open for him, his thrusts pushing any wandering thoughts you have out of your head. He’s filling you up so good and full that you see a slight bulge pushing against your lower abdomen. 

“S-San, you’re so fucking thick. Oh my fucking god”, you groan when you feel his cock drag against your plush walls before he plunges himself back in. It’s a tight squeeze for sure, but San isn’t relenting anytime soon, especially when the look of complete pleasure flooding his face is only making you even wetter. His eyes are growing wild. In between fucking, he’d lean in to leave pretty marks all over your neck and chest, uselessly reminding you who you really belonged to. He would whisper that you are so fucking pretty for him, covered in his pretty marks on top of completely ruining your pussy. 

The more his cock hits your sensitive spots, the more your grip on reality slowly loosens, the only things you’re soaking in are the wet sounds of his cock making a pretty mess out of your pussy and the feeling of San so thick and heavy in you that stars start to flicker beneath your eyelids whenever you shut them. 

San pulls back from your body momentarily—his cock still fitted into you—to get a better angle to fuck you in, pushing your knees closer to your chest, giving him the perfect view of your pussy completely drenched in cream and precum. And it gives him more access to hit even deeper parts of your poor cunt.

Your mind grows blank, mostly focus on trying to chase an orgasm that’s bubbling up to the surface. You watch the way San’s pretty ears are twitching, the way he clenched his teeth, his once blunt fangs now sharper the more he grows feral from fucking you. His cheeks that were once dusted pink now are flushed alongside his furrowed eyebrows. His eyes would roll back from the way your cunt squeezes him and it drives him to want to fuck you even more senseless. 

“Sannie—“, you huff, trying to tell him, “I’m cumming. Don’t stop.” San stares down at you, his eyes reflecting adoration mixed with hunger. Your breath hitches when you feel it bubble at the surface—and it feels so fucking heavenly—you jerk slightly with a broken moan, your pussy fluttering while still full with San’s cock stuffed deep inside. Your hands fist the sheets, your thighs shaking, your toes curled from how mind-blowing it feels. 

“So good. Gonna make a mess outta you”, the feline hybrid promises he presses himself against you, forcing you to hear him groan in bliss while warm cum spills and fills you up. He stills for a second or so, before he pulls out slowly, watching the way his cum slowly seeps out of your fluttering hole, and he swallows hard. 

“Need more. Not enough”, San mutters, before he pushes his cock back in, forcing his cum to leak and spill onto your inner thighs. Your eyes are watering, fingernails clawing against San’s arm which he barely registers when he fits his full cock right into you one more time. 

He grunts, voice so low right in your ears, and you can’t help but squeeze around him, on top of feeling overstimulated. 

“W-wait—“, you jump, every nerve in your body still buzzing from your high. San meets your gaze, and you feel goosebumps on your skin when you feel his tail graze against your tummy. 

“Like I said, no tapping out, not until I’ve bred you full”, San reminds you before he shifts positions—settling you on top of him. His hands shifting to squeeze your ass before he guides you to slowly sink onto his cock once more, the both you shakily exhaling, San’s cock twitching in you as he lets you adjust to him. Your cunt is wet and sticky, but he still fills you full all the same, now even deeper since you’re sitting on his dick. 

“So full. Oh god. You’re so deep, Sannie”, you squeal when he presses the bulge on your lower abdomen once more, adding to the pleasure. 

You lift yourself off and slowly bounce off his cock with San’s hands on your ass to guide you, although he is rather impatient with it. You wrap your arms around him, pulling him into a hug while he’s thrusting right into your cunt over and over, and it makes you tug against his hair and scratch the back of his ears, which pulls out a purr and another thrust up your cunt and a light nibble against your neck. 

“You shouldn’t do that if you don’t want me to ruin your pussy”, San warns you along with a loud slap his palm impacts against your ass. You return his words with a cheeky smile before you bite against his ears gently, and he groans below you, his thrusts increasing in speed and as he fills you up with his cock every two seconds. 

He pulls you down for a messy kiss, his breathing heavy. Then he pulls away, looking up at you, dripping with lust, entranced by how gorgeous his partner looks filled up with his cock. The feeling builds up dangerously in your stomach once more. You glance at San, his eyes are shut, soft grunts leaving his lips, his cock twitching in you once more, he’s at his limit too, it seems.

You tap his arm, and San’s eyes flutter open, staring back at you as his pupils dilate and his ears point forwards. The corner of his lips curl into a smile. 

“Are you gonna cum for me again babe?” 

You nod, biting the bottom of your lip, a broken cry leaving your lips when he pushes his hips upwards into you once more, ripping a moan out of you as white bursts and floods your veins, your cunt convulsing around his cock for the second time, making San hiss. 

As you go down from your high, you interlock your fingers with San’s, keeping eye contact with him. 

“You can let go, Sannie. You’ve been such a good kitty”, you hum, brushing his hair back, not forgetting to scratch the back of his ears, knowing that it drives him fucking nuts as San bares his fangs and bites onto your shoulder, his cock spurting even more white into your spent pussy. His eyes roll back when he pulls away from your shoulder, whines piling on whines when he seems like he’s spilling his cum into you endlessly. 

As the snapped tension slowly dissipates, the both of you are left panting and catching your breaths. You giggle, breaking the short moment of silence, which San cocks an eyebrow, curious at your amusement.

“What are you laughing at, kitty?” He asks. 

You stare at him for a couple of seconds, admiring his face. “Nothing. I was thinking of how pretty you look when you cum, kitty.” 

San pouts at you, his face flushing from the shyness, and his retaliation comes in the form of biting your fingers. He gently lifts you off him, almost forgetting that his cock is still in you for second when he hears you whimper. But what definitely catches his attention is the amount of slick and thick white that trickles out of your pretty pussy, and San has to bite his inner cheek to hold his instincts from going a third round. He carries you to the bathroom, his tail swishing satisfied behind him, thinking about how baths aren’t so bad when you take them with him.