#so there's no right answer or multiple right answers

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

A/N: this is a kofi request, about a naga that gives you a massage to help with your chronic pain… and that leads to spicy things~

You let out a sigh as you rubbed your sore body, unsatisfied with your doctor’s current diagnosis… or well, lack of one.

It had been a long time since you last brought up your chronic pain, no one ever listened to you before so why keep asking for help when nothing seemed to change? You had found ways to… somewhat manage, so was it really all that bad?

Well, that’s what you thought before yet another doctor dismissed your pain and sent you home with a smile and tip to take ibuprofen before bed.

“Ibuprofen? Does she seriously think I haven’t tried that already?” you murmured to yourself, wincing as you laid on your side. “All that money for an appointment, just to come home empty handed.”

You didn’t react when your phone buzzed on your nightstand, it was late and you didn’t feel like answering anyone’s messages after the day you had.

In the morning when you had some caffeine and could think clearly, you read the message you had been sent the night before.

“Hey, I know you’ve been having some pretty bad flare ups lately. I went to this masseuse and I’ve never felt better! Here’s the address, he said he’s free tomorrow, you should go after work!”

You let out an annoyed huff. Although you loved your friend, you disliked when people recommended random treatments to you.

As if you haven’t visited a masseuse before! Every chiropractor in the area knew your name!

“Well… guess it can’t hurt. I’ve got nothing to do tonight anyways.”

After another work day full of pain and a double dose of anxiety, you put the address into your phone. Luckily, it was close enough to your house that you could justify going home to change out of your work clothes first.

“First impressions are important after all…” you muttered to yourself, brushing off your skirt.

The address led you to a small cottage. It looked more cozy than professional, which you didn’t mind. After all, you wanted to be comfortable and had been through this song and dance so many times you didn’t care anymore.

“Hello!”

You jumped, turning to see a naga slithering up the driveway. It wasn’t often a human like you encountered a magical being, the last time you came face to face with one was in kindergarten when one of your classmates was a troll.

“O-oh, hello. Are you..?”

He smiled, flashing his fangs. “The masseuse? Yes! You must be (Name), your friend said you’d be here early.”

While you walked in, you didn’t notice the way his eyes wandered downwards, taking note of how nice you looked in that skirt.

You did the usual, undressing and laying down on the premade cot before calling him back into the room. For some reason, even though you had been through this multiple times, you almost felt… shy.

“Alright, where are you feeling the most pain?”

You pointed out your sore spots, wincing as his hands went to work. After a few minutes, he frowned and pulled back a bit. “And this isn’t helping, is it?”

“No… it seems nothing really seems to work. Thanks for-“

He stopped you from getting up, helping you relax back into the cot before his hands moved down your body. “I see your friend didn’t mention what I specialize in.”

You saw his fangs again, the way the light glinted off of them making you wince.

“You see, my venom can act as a muscle relaxer. It’s more potent and effective than anything you’ve ever tried, I bet.”

Before you would have hesitated, but you were so tired of the pain and were willing to try anything. “That… sounds nice.”

The naga hovered over you, sniffing your neck before giving it a lick. He was quite handsome, and it had been so long since a man had been this close with you. It felt intimate…

His neck sunk into your neck, and he stayed on top of you as the venom kicked in. He worked his hands into your muscles, humming softly as you let out satisfied moans and sighs.

“Mmm…”

His hands wandered, stopping right at your hips. You were plump, the towel barely covering your fat ass and pretty pussy. Although he tried his best to stay professional, he could feel his cocks beginning to peek through his slit.

“Feeling good?” he asked. You noticed his voice had a slight huskiness to it, and you decided to take your chance.

“Yeah… what about you?”

You couldn’t move much, but the slight shift of your hips into his was enough to have him hissing through his teeth. His cocks settled on your ass as he continued to massage you.

“Mmm… me too. In fact, I can make sure we feel even better… together.”

By the time you got home, your pain and sexual tension was fully relieved, and you already had your next appointment scheduled.

The naga was almost more excited for it than you were.

Want more of this character? Leave a comment!

—————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi @flamefoxx @sandramalikstyles-blog @breathingstarlight

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine being Joaquin’s favourite avenger -after Sam of course- and Sam figures this when one day Joaquin made a passing comment regarding you, in hopes of coming across as subtle but Sam knew Joaquin and he was anything but subtle when it came to his fanboy side.

‘You were on the same team as y/n right?’

Sam raises a brow at the young man. ‘Yeah, joined at the same time, why? You’re not going to tell me you’ve got a poster of them that you want them to sign do you?’ He says, his voice teasing when he saw Joaquin shift his weight on one foot to another, a habit he had noticed only recently but one that only made his job in teasing the poor lad all the more easier.

‘No.’ Joaquin says almost defensively, crossing his arms over his chest, feeling as though he was being seen through by Sam right now. ‘Just think it’s cool that you were on the same team and they’re cool too, that’s all.’ He adds as he rubs the back of his head sheepishly as a small smile crept across his lips. Oh yeah Sam could see through Joaquin as though he were glass and he was doing a poor job at hiding his true feelings.

Sam smiles when he recalls on all the times that he could tell Joaquin about you that were uncool, but you would have his ass for it as your relationship was that akin to siblings, you took the piss out of one another for tripping over thin air but were straight to defending one another if anyone stepped out of line. So when he feels as though someone has even the slightest hints of attraction towards you, Sam feels the need to size them up and see whether or not they’ll be worth your time and energy, something you expressed embarrassment over multiple times but it never stopped Sam from being overprotective; yet he has this feeling at the back of his head that Joaquin would somehow be different.

‘They are cool, but they’re also a pain in my ass.’ Sam replies, giving Joaquin a pointed look as though he was about to give him a very vital history lesson. ‘So don’t let their sweet and pleasant words fool you because it’s a trap, and before you know it salt is being put in your coffee because you apparently stole their 20inch plushie of a blue highland cow, when in actuality it was misplaced.’ He finishes and the look on Joaquin’s face was priceless as his brows were furrowed and his head tilted to the side, not knowing how to process all this information.

‘Ooookay?’ Joaquin laughs as his eyes shift, not knowing how to fell in getting some insider knowledge about you outside of your avengers persona, finding the fact that you supposedly had a 20inch blue highland cow plushie was cute, but he wasn’t sure why Sam was telling him this stuff to begin with. It wasn’t as if he was ever going to meet you to begin with anyways, having believed that you might’ve retired along with most of your fellow avengers after the battle against Thanos, so Joaquin was more or less under the belief that meeting you was only something that would ever happen in his dreams.

Disheartening? Yes but what could he really do.

Sam watched the young man with observant eyes, clearly seeing the inner teenage boy that has a raging crush and or admiration for you within Joaquin’s every move, every shift in his expression along with the singular bead of sweat dripping down the side of his temple. What the young man had no idea was that Sam had invited you over to meet him, and the moment that a rhythmic knocking on a door sounded throughout the room, a knowing smile blossomed across Sam’s face as he pats Joaquin on his shoulder.

‘They’re here.’ Was all he says as he went to sender the door, leaving poor Joaquin confused as his mind racked any and every possibility of who this ‘they’ Sam could be referring to. The answer was one he least expected, unless it was the plot point of a fanfic or a dream as Sam came back to him with his arm thrown over your shoulders as you shared a laugh over something he didn’t hear.

‘So this is Joaquin?’ You asked Sam, who only hums in agreement as you looked over to the starstruck man in front of you. ‘He’s cute and he’s got promise.’ Joaquin almost felt his heart stop at your compliment as he found himself shifting his weight from one foot to another, smiling to himself as he repeated your words within his head that only made heat rise to his cheeks faster.

Sam squeezed your shoulder. ‘You’ve been here for five minutes and are already flustering the poor lad, look at him!’ He points to Joaquin, who silently was cursing Sam out for putting him on the spot as you only smiled and reached out to pat his arm. ‘Oh shush, if anyone’s flustering the poor lad it’s you pointing it out!’ You replied as you looked into his beautiful eyes, giving him a reassuring smile towards him. Joaquin was indeed a handsome man with dark hair, dark eyes and a smile that many would swoon over but his attractiveness was the least of your concern when Sam was teasing him senselessly, not giving him any room to breath.

‘It’s nice to finally meet you Joaquin, I’ve heard a lot about you from this loser here. I’m sorry you stuck dealing with him.’ You gutted a finger towards Sam, who gasped behind you dramatically.

Joaquin laughs, slowly feeling himself relax within your presence. ‘Good things I can only hope.’ He says, his eyes darting across your face to memorise your every feature in hopes of it being engraved within his head. ‘And Sam’s been nothing but a great mentor, really and I’m not just saying that because he might not be so kind to me in future, especially if I show favouritism toward you over him.’ You chuckled at his words and Joaquin felt as though he was on cloud nine as his eyes president twinkled with happiness, all the while Sam looked between you both with his arms over his chest, only to soon realise that the slowburn between you two has just begun.

[wonderjanga]

The rock of eternity is basically just the backrooms Billy has control over. Just an idea. (Credits to Chaos moth from the discord server :3)

Civilian: *no clips and falls on the carpet of level 0* “Wha- where am I?!”

Marvel: *appears above him* “What are you doing here-”

Civilian: *screams*

Marvel: *now concerned* “Are you okay??”

Civilian: “YES! YOU JUST SCARED ME.” *hand clenching skin above his heart*

Marvel: “Oh, I’m sorry. But I still have to ask, what are you doing here? Also, how did you get here?”

Civilian: “I don’t know man! I just fell while walking down the sidewalk and the next thing I knew I was here! I don’t have a reason to be here!”

Marvel: “Oh.” *frowns* “Well, I’m sorry to hear that. do you wanna leave?”

Civilian: “Wha- Of course! DUDE THERE ARE MONSTERS HERE!”

Marvel: “Nah, that’s just Lenny and the gang. They get a bit territorial. Wait, how do you know about the monsters?”

Civilian: “It used to be big on the Internet. I thought it was just something like the creepypastas, I didn’t know it was real.”

Marvel: *wondering if that means multiple people have been wandering around the Rock of Eternity* “Huh. Well, that’s… interesting. Why don’t we take you on back to that sidewalk and you can show me what you mean by it being on the Internet?”

Civilian: “Sounds fine by me.” *just happy to go home*

It was after this that he found out that the Rock’s magic was twisted in certain places. That’s why people were sometimes being transported to the “Backrooms”. Thankfully, it was already mending itself, and when Billy found out how to help it further, no more people found into the “Backrooms.”

It was also through this civilian that he found out about the existence of other “Backrooms.” Such as the “Pool Room.” Once you got past the deadly virus, the place was awesome!

Marvel, Junior, and Mary: *all having a pool party*

Marvel: *gets a call on his comm and answers* “What’s up?”

Flash: “What’s up? Cap, where are you??”

Marvel: “In the Pool Room.”

Flash: “What? …You have a pool…?”

Marvel: “No? It belongs to the Rock, but it lets me, Mary and Junior use it.”

*silence*

Flash: “…Can I come over?”

Marvel: “No, sorry.”

Flash: “Wha- why?”

Marvel: “There’s a deadly virus in the air of the room. You’ll die if you breathe here.”

Flash: “That sounds like a totally made up lie you told me so I wouldn’t have to come to the Pool Room.”

Marvel: “It’s not! I promise! Look, I’ll find another room that doesn’t have an airborne virus, and you can hang out with me and the others then. We can bring GL along too, okay?”

Flash: “…okay.”

Marvel: “Now, why were you calling me?”

Flash: “Oh, right. Where are you?! Dude your comm’s GPS is gone!”

Marvel: “Funnily enough, it’s gone because we’re in the Pool Room.”

They all later hung out in Mr. Kitty’s Level before leaving earlier than they planned because both Flash and GL were creeped out by Mr. Kitty.

[bwobgames]

On the ever-bustling capital

The station awakes

The last time he’d been in the capital it was spring, for a wedding. He remembers sitting by the fan until night came.

And yet, even with such inscrutable proof, he still decided that it was a good idea to come back in summer.

Like some sort of forgetful fool.

Hm- actually, no. Just a fool. He doesn’t like that other word.

He is detective Oliver Beebo and he has solved the mystery of the overheating city.

The answer is global warming and corporate greed. Money now, please.

"Take my hand, alright? Let’s not get lost here"

It’s not that big of a place, but who is he to judge. Guess he’ll have to hold hands with his very hot boyfriend! Hot in multiple ways. He might be used to it, but the heat affects him too.

It must have. he can’t be the only one dying here! With Ángel as the sole survivor! That'd be too cliche now!

Hopefully everyone is fine as well.

Okay. Never mind. Ángel was right. This place is massive.

And absolutely full of people! Are they synthetizing humans here or what? How is it possible to have this many people around every day!

It’s… almost a bit too much. It’s slowly becoming too much. It’s really starting to be too much.

“Ángel. Um.”

“Let’s not enter yet, yeah? We are the first ones here, and the train is not moving anytime soon”

Ah, yes. The train. His salvation from hell city.

He heard there was going to be a free showing of multiple museums, so, like an easily amused fool, he asked Ángel to do a quick visit to the capital.

It was hot.

Usually, his dreams are filled with snow, but the heat won’t leave him even in sleepy land.

Small miracles, he guesses.

And even more miraculously, the Margulis were also sick of the heat, and decided to get a trip to the south as vacation. So why not get the gang back together and hitch a ride back home!

Of course, because they are not normal people who travel by an overnight bus, they simply must try out the new train.

Something about vintage realistic experience from when the country was filled with trains.

Well, he can’t complain much. Trains are awesome.

“Alright, just checked the groupchat. Vivi says she’s gonna be here soon, Marigold says they are leaving the house as we speak, and Nadia told me to die. So, everything seems to be going well!”

“Why is everything here so overpriced. Why was there a shopping mall inside there. When does summer ends.”

“Ahaha, that’s the shark mindset, my beloved. A place with so much people traffic? An opportunity like no other. Reminds me of the good old days, when I was evil and had money”

“You barely did anything economy wise. And you still get money from branding”

“Haha, that’s true!”

“Speaking of overpriced evil things, Let’s go get a snack! The train has bathrooms, so we have nothing to worry about”

“… Inside? In the torment nexus? With the many people and smells and lights?”

“Ah, we don’t have to if you don’t want to! We can wait until the train opens! I wasn’t that hungry anyways.”

Ángel’s tummy rumbles

“Ignore that. My demons.”

“You can go. I’ll wait here”

“.......”

“Really! I’ll be fine! Look! I’m no longer a noddle arms boy anymore! Your workout thing worked! So…”

“This place is dangerous.”

“I know my way around the common mugger”

“No, these guys are even more dangerous! They’d kill for nothing more than your phone! A-And the luggage is-!”

“Ángel.”

“I’ll be alright. You trust me, right?”

“I do... But it’s the other people that-!”

“Then you trust all the years of detective work that I’ve managed to survive. Assassins and Houses included”

“.......”

“...Fine. Fine, I get it. Just... If anyone tries to rob you, just give them everything, okay? Your phone, your shoes, whatever! I’ll buy you anything, so don’t try to fight back, yeah?”

“And don’t wander off! Stay in this street, okay? If you get lost just search for the giant awful clock. Without breaking it this time. I can buy you phones, but I’d really rather not pay another clock you ‘accidentally’ broke”

“It had it coming”

“And try to be close to people alright? Don’t wander off where there’s no people!”

“I’ll stay right here!”

“...Oliver.”

“Yeah, okay, I won’t. But I can always call you, yeah?”

“Yeah… Yeah. You can. It’s going to be fine.”

“I want a muffin and juice, please”

“Protect your luggage. I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Be safe, don’t even dare not be safe”

“byebyebyebyebyebyeeee love you!”

“Love you!”

One of the few positive traits of the capital is the wide acceptance of homosexuality.

Now, where to?

NEXT ->

[red5tars]

all that remains, pt.1

ghost x reader; past ghoap.

cw: major character death, alcohol + drinking, simon is grieving and he is NOT happy

it was no surprise johnny would be forced into an early retirement. simon planned to follow him, hell, he would follow him to ends of the earth if johnny so much as hinted at it. but that wasn't the case, not this time.

or after going no contact for nearly two decades, simon riley gets the closure he's always needed with his sergeant. or rather, an extension of him.

he can hardly remember what happened.

(-security had to escort simon out of the hospital. yank him away from johnny as he yelled, cursed, told his mother that she could go fuck herself up the ass with the cross she carries in her bag-)

-the past a blur, smudged by time.

still, betrayal sticks to the back of his tongue like a bitter aftertaste. the feeling apart of him forever.

the day that johnny got shot, two matching holes were made: one ingrained into soap's head, the other in ghost's heart. time healed one while growing the other, the correlation negative. never crossing.

until now.

he reads the article over and over again, eyes darting all over the page.

local veteran. wife. daughter. car crash. multiple injuries. dead.

dead.

dead.

dead-

simon chucks his phone across the room, device shattering upon impact.

he shouldn't have asked price for more details, knowing his captain would never have spared him. then again, the last time simon talked with price was nearly a month ago, both men preferring to talk in person. unfortunately, this message couldn't wait.

according to elisabeth kübler-ross, simon should be in denial. shaking his head frantically, muttering 'no no no no no', tugging his hair and screaming till his lungs give out. yet, the first emotion that his apathetic brain can register is regret-

-days spent quietly in the woods, vows and toasts, an honest conversation, all lost when the text he's gone appeared on his screen only thirty minutes prior.

memories never created bounce around in his head, plaguing him. a ghost being haunted, how hilarious.

even when johnny was cut out from simon'a life, at the very least he knew he was still there. living and breathing, enjoying life with someone who wasn't him.

wasn't simon.

before he can spiral even further, his phone buzzes. a miracle, considering how hard he threw it. a part of him wants to break his phone, unable to cement this new reality (denial, maybe miss ross knew a thing or two).

but he's already walking, bending down to pick up the small device. his thumb hits the answer button before he can throw it again.

"i should've called first," price says, voice filled with sympathy, shielding his own grief. even decades later, his captain continues to put on a strong front. typical, but not unwelcomed.

a million responses run through simon's head; "yes, you should've", "it wouldn't have made a difference".

“you never should’ve told me. should’ve let me die an ignorance.”

"..'s fine," simon mumbles, eyes drifting down to the floor.

there's an uncomfortable silence that comes from the other end of the line. for a man who can figure out when the enemy is about to take their next breath, he's shit when it comes to comfort.

price sighs, "'s not, but not much we can do 'bout it now, huh?" he tacks on a humorless laugh at the end, which could be mistaken for another exasperated sigh.

he's right. there isn't much they can do about now. simon doesnt't even want to do anything. if he had to do something, gun to his head, he'd just pull the trigger himself and hope johnny is wherever he ends up (a low probability really. johnny believed in god and the only man simon worshipped was him).

"listen, simon," price's voice pulls him out of his thoughts, forcing him back to the present. the one where johnny is dead, "i didn't just call to talk about… him.

"they're gonna be 'osting a funeral, 'bout a week from now," he continues, simon taking every detail with a gram of salt, "gonna be in his hometown. i've been in contact with his mum considerin' the lad," (a weird word to describe him, but it makes sense. john has always been like a father figure to them all, offering guidance even outside of the trenches), "won't have a regular funeral."

a neatly folded flag, gunshots that echo of missions from years ago, and the husk of the strongest man he knows.

well, knew.

"figures," simon replies, despondent. it seems price catches on, another breath leaving him heavily, "look, i know you two weren't on the best of terms after the.. incident, but i do know that if he wanted anyone to see him off. it would be you," there's a slight rustle on price's end, a barely audible john..? reaching simon's end. price huffs, but it's filled with warmth, "woke up the missus.. listen, i'll talk to you again when everything is finalized just.. don't do anything you'd regret, simon."

it takes simon three minutes to respond, not realizing what john said wasn't a suggestion but rather an order (some things don't change, huh?).

"..yes, sir," and simon can hear the smile in his tone when john tells him 'good night'.

he didn't realize it till price left him in the static silence of his home flat, but simon didn't move a single inch during the entirety of the call. a strange superstition he had when he was younger, that if he didn't move, nothing would change. it didn't work of course. staying huddled in a corner didn't stop his father from seeking him out and beating him and his mother.

staying buried in the trenches didn't stop the enemy from firing at him.

and staying rooted in this one spot didn't change the fact that johnny mactavish was a dead man.

so much for some things not changing…

he thinks of what to do next. price ordered him to not do something he would regret, his to-do list quickly dwindling down to two options:

a) go to the funeral.

b) or don't.

to others it's an easy choice, but to simon? this would be facing the truth head first. face first.

johnny, expression contorted into something peaceful, telling a silent story of a man who lived a long fruitful life.

still, no amount of blush could hide the fact it's a corpse he'll be reuniting with.

it could do him more good than harm but what if it doesn't? what if it's then he truly snaps, impales himself on one of the many flower stands he knows will be there, removing himself only to drag his bleeding body towards his one true love.

splayed out like romeo over juliet except this isn't some shakespearean tale, star-crossed lovers and theatrical english. no, this is his reality, his purgatory made into actuality.

all that's left is to make a decision. stay or go? face the truth or don't?

it circles his head like an ugly carousel with a discordant tune, that is till his eyes land on a an unopened bottle of whiskey he got from america.

johnny had insisted on buying it when they were in the states for a mission. "we'll share it whin we git back to th' stead, lt. treat fur a jab weel done."

(they never opened it, that operation being dubbed 'the incident', followed by silence from both ends)

better late then never, simon thinks, skulking towards the bottle. the cap comes off with ease, simon swiping some dust around the spout. there's glasses somewhere in his shitty flat, a set that's engraved with their initials.

he settles on drinking straight from the source.

[blightbright]

#sorry I just really hate this take #because there’s so much in canon actively disproving it #and it only really exists to take away all of solas’ agency so he can’t be blamed for any of his crimes #which is like. the entire point of his character. he did those crimes. and then pretends he had to when he didn’t #that’s like. his whole thing

(tags from the above post) Again, there are multiple valid interpretations in Veilguard, because they left it vague, and different people find different takes compelling for various reasons and in various moments of time! I'm not gonna respond exactly point by point (although I have considered the questions you're asking!) but I will say that when I tried to kick the tires of the idea of "Solas is still enslaved until Morrigan uses the final fragment of Mythal's power to release him" (please note IMO it required Morrigan fully taking over the entirety of Mythal's remaining power, because most abusers/slavers will never willingly relinquish their control) and tried to ponder if it can hold up or if canon debunks it, I found it actually can hold up, depending on interpretation and how one decides the mechanics of the magic might work. But it's cool if it's not for you.

The main point I will add is when you said this: "Solas is not literally bound to Mythal. If he was, he’d never have been able to rebel against her in the first place..."

If we step outside the context of DA for a minute and think about the struggles of enslaved and/or imprisoned people more broadly, we can see that, in fact, most rebellions against slavery are led by those who are enslaved. People being constrained in some way (even when they are INTENSELY dehumanized, treated as chattel, and restricted in the most microscopic aspects of their life, speech, and movement) always find clever ways to resist. (Even Solas' highly restrictively bound Wisdom friend in DA:I rebelled by crying out for help psychically in the Fade.) That's the story that's most interesting to me right now. That's what feels meaningful to me at this point in my life. I personally see that story all over Solas' story, there are so many aspects of his plot and backstory that align with it, and I like exploring that. I add magic back in and headcanon that there are certain direct orders/magical programming that he can't avoid that linger even after most of Mythal has died, and others that he's able to circumvent. I see a whole lot of ambiguity in terms of what are his own bad choices, what are kinda his choices but corrupted magically/spiritually, and what's straight up stuff that old direct order remnants are forcing. It also raises age-old questions (without objective answers) about if it's even useful to try and untangle those things at all.

I don't think it's particularly fair to say that a take grappling with a canonically-identified slave rebellion leader's slavery rebellion experience is merely to take away his agency. Or (and you didn't use this word, but I will use it!) that it inherently woobifies him or whatever. I think he's an incredibly complicated character who is not a mindless drone. In that context, it became a more interesting story for me personally when I asked, wait hold on, what if Solas has been trying to resist this whole time? What if he really is begging people to stop him, because the slavery-induced magical inclination to "casually reshape reality" to bring Mythal (his canonical slaver at some point, if we consider vallaslin slave markings, as Cole and Solas do) back to her full power is something Solas has been able to sidestep, fuck with, delay, but cannot, by himself, fully avoid?

No, the veil did not need to come down. It never did.

Something that is extremely consistent throughout inquisition is that the tears in the fade are HURTING spirits. Spirit society, like mortal society, has adapted to having the veil present and just like mortal society it is being thrown into chaos by its weakening.

Something that is consistent throughout trespasser and the media between trespasser and veilguard is that taking down the veil would have harmed everyone and destroyed society as we know it, at the very least killing most (if not all) humans, dwarves and qunari (who have no less of a right to exist than the elves).

He says as much in trespasser, and then never denies it when called out. It’s always “do you truly believe that is my plan” and “I had plans to minimise the damage”, never an explicit “no, that would not happen”. He tells the inquisitor that tearing down the veil will destroy the world and then never denies it when asked, he just stops being so open about it. This is a man who uses careful wording so that he can say he rarely lies, what he doesn’t say is deeply significant.

The veil going up initially hurt people, but the world has since adapted and is now in a state where tearing it down would cause more damage for no reason. The veil being put up hurt elven society because they had buildings that relied on both places, but they no longer have that. Nobody is being actively hurt by the veil being up, bringing it down would just destroy everything to get a world that is different but not inherently better.

But Solas regrets putting it up. Solas wishes he didn’t put it up. He wants to take it down, not because it is actively hurting anyone, but because he feels bad about it. It’s something he regrets, something he wishes he hadn’t done, and taking it down will placate his conscience. And all the consequences can be justified under “i feel sad about it but it had to be done” even though it didn’t ever have to be done. This is how he has justified every crime before.

Rook has not doomed the world by keeping the veil up. They have saved this world, instead of dooming it to cling onto scraps of a culture long long dead and placate the conscience of a man who has never been able to handle the concept of “no”.

[hardbeingcasual]

this is how it went — shuntaro chishiya fem reader

about. part two of one time

warnings. blood. betrayal. the usual stuff for aib. not proof read.

♪ this is how it went, beabadoobee

masterlist / aib masterlist

this is how tomorrow moves masterlist

After being left in the room by Niragi, your nerves were sky high. You heard the announcement that the beach had suddenly turned into a game arena, which possibly means you were going to die. You couldn’t help but worry about Chishiya, why? You didn’t know. He had used you and your friends as bait, but for some reason you were still worried.

Deep down, you hoped him and Kuina’s stupid plan worked and they got out in time. They both used you but you couldn’t help but wish they were safe.

You swallow the lump and tried calling for help, but know there is no use. Considering you had tape on your mouth.

You thought, ‘this was it.’ There was no chance you were going to live now. Until you heard a faint yell, it sounded like someone calling your name. You couldn’t tell, though. Your mind was foggy and the room had suddenly gotten hot… is the beach on fire?

You decide to try to do something to make noise, to gain the attention of whoever is calling for you.

You wriggle about in your chair, which leads you to fall over in the process, but it was worth it because it made a loud noise. Your head hit the floor which caused you to wince but you didn’t seem to care at the moment.

You realised your plan had worked. The sound of someone trying to open the door fills your ears, struggling against the doorknob until whoever is there eventually breaks into the room.

You hear a voice — No, multiple voices. Call your name. The tape that was over your eyes gets removed as you come face to face with Arisu, with Usagi, Tatta and Asahi by his side.

“Arisu?” You let out a sigh of relief at the sight of your friend, glad to see him still standing.

Usagi and Arisu help you up from the floor, Usagi immediately fills both you and Arisu in on the rules of the game.

The game was over.

You should’ve felt relieved, but you were the opposite, you felt dread well upon you, you knew something was going to happen, you could feel it in your gut.

You and the remaining people from The Beach stared at the burning building. You were glad it was gone, whenever you were there you just felt miserable. The only reason you stayed was for your friends, but because of you, two of them were able to leave without you. Or so you thought until during the game you saw Chishiya, when you looked at him he was obviously already looking at you, with those cat like eyes that you swore you could get lost in.

You stared back at him, with hatred and sadness in your eyes, until you decided to break the intense eye contact. Your heart feels heavy in your chest as you look down to your feet, listening to the chaos that was going on around you.

You focus back to the present and look around to the remaining ‘Beach people,’ all their faces holding melancholy looks. Some self riddled with guilt and sadness, or some matching your unbothered face as you looked back at the burning building before walking off with Arisu and Usagi.

Arisu had found a phone, that had previously been Momoka and Asahi’s phones, which had a video on it, on the video it showed the now dead girls, who were revealed to be the game masters in the last game.

In the video it led them to a subway, so you, Arisu, and Usagi decide to go to where the ‘Game Masters’ are, hoping to find answers.

In the video it showed other people who were behind screens, to which you assumed were the Game Masters, considering they were cheering and betting on the games you and your friends fought for your life in. When you arrived at the room from the video, they were all dead.

Suits them right, you thought

The red lasers that fell from the sky had ended their lives. You stare at them almost angrily, this was supposed to be your answer to everything.

You were deep in focus until a familiar voice interrupted all your thoughts. Chishiya. Accompanied by Kuina who followed behind him. Your face falls at the sight of them, anger building up in your chest.

Your eyes find those cat-like eyes once again, glancing into them to try to find any sign of regret, regret for what he did to you. But nothing. He was the hardest book to read.

Back at The Beach, you thought you knew him, but his care for you was all an act. It was a part of his plan to steal the cards.

You look away from him, but can still feel his gaze burn into your skin as you pay attention to the screen that was now on. A sign that phase two was going to start.

You sighed, dragging your eyes away from the screen, even though you were meant to be mad, you were still worried about what could happen during these new games.

You were worried for him.

#NOTES

no show dialogue used because i’m simply just using my mind to write these So i’m just following what i remember 😭😭Anyways i hope you liked the pt2 bc i do NOT. i tried my best to write it but i didn’t even know what to write, and i’m trying to get used to writing again …. anyways, requests are open !

[dokyumms]

seventeen's reaction to you overworking yourself (hyung line) !

pairings: hyung line x reader (stayed tuned for maknae line tomorrow!)

genre: fluff, angst

word count: 1.6k

cw: light cursing, overworking, fatigue, fainting

a/n: i had to cut this in half since it was getting too long and i wanted to make sure i posted today! i have NO idea why i made seungcheol's so long lmao. hope you enjoy kings ᕙ( •̀ ᗜ •́ )ᕗ also, i will be closing my requests so i can catch up on them over the weekend, i'll try to get them done by monday! thank you for all the support, it means so much to me ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

seungcheol - seungcheol is livid. you're still at your second part-time job when seungcheol calls you, "send me your location, y/n." you didn't tell seungcheol you had taken on a second job. you've never been comfortable with money, always having to work multiple jobs to stay afloat. that was until you met seungcheol, and since then he's always taken care of your expenses, even offering to pay for part of your tuition, and you decided it was enough. you didn't want for your (millionaire) boyfriend to think you were using him, so you told him you took on some evening classes.

today, you're covering someone else's shift. originally, you weren't going to, but after their promise of sending you a little extra money for it, you accepted.

"cheol, i told you i'm-"

"at class still? don't bullshit me, y/n. you didn't take on any new classes, you left your paper schedule on the counter."

your stomach drops. damn, you must be stupid. "y/n, what are you really doing?" he asks, almost pleading. there's absolutely no fighting it at that point, "i'm... at work. shift just ended, i'll send you my location." in defeat, you sit on a barstool at the restaurant and wait for seungcheol.

when he walks in, his eyes are immediately on you. walking over and grabbing your hand. "let's go," is all he says. the car ride is silent with tension; he only asks about it once you two are both home. "why? y/n there's no reason for you to be working another job. i'm right here; if you needed financial help, i could've helped you." he says gently, trying to maintain his frustration, but his brows are furrowed, exposing his true emotions.

"that's just the thing seungcheol, you're always here to help me. i don't want to use you because i can't support myself." you reason, but seungcheol obviously isn't buying it. "y/n, you're not using me, even if you did i wouldn't care. i don't want to watch you struggle when i know i can help." he takes your hand into his own. "don't do this to yourself, please. i love you too much to let this keep going." looks like you're quitting that job.

jeonghan - you and jeonghan are walking home from your date night. it's supposed to be romantic, you two walking hand in hand, but you're feeling the weight of the all nighters you've been pulling all week to finish your project, walking wobbily on the side walk.

"did you drink or something? you're walking a little funny babe." jeonghan teases before giving you a genuine look of concern. you try to laugh it off, "hah, maybe." but then your eyes start to droop ever so slowly. jeonghan notices, "have you been sleeping?" damn. did your concealer wear off or something? you're about to respond, but your legs give out and jeonghan catches you before everything goes dark.

you wake up on the couch, tucked in with a blanket with jeonghan caressing your forehead lovingly. "so i'm guessing the answer to my question is no," jeonghan murmurs, giggiling. "but seriously y/n- don't scare me like that," he adds. "i know i know, sorry-" you say, trying to sit up, but jeonghan interupts. "i don't think so, you need to rest baby," he gently pushes you back down before joining you on the couch. "we'll talk about this seriously later, let's just sleep for now." wrapping his arms around you, leaving you no choice but to comply.

joshua - joshua wants to trust you, knowing that you're fully capable of taking care of yourself, but he can't help but worry when he looks over at you. you've been sitting at your desk for hours now, trying to finish all your assignments before the end of the grading period.

he walks over, putting his hands on your shoulders and massaging them. "you've been working for a bit, love. how about a break?" he suggests. you turn around, giving him a small smile, "i really would shua, but i've got like 2 hours till this is due. just let me finish this and i'll take a break." he frowns, "you promise?" "i promise," he hums in response, giving you a quick peck on the cheek before retreating to whatever he was doing.

2 hours later, joshua is back at your desk, only to find you slumped over your papers. he sighs, shaking his head before taking a look at your laptop. "hm, looks like you made the deadline," he says softly, gently shaking you awake.

"you did it, love. i'm proud of you, but i don't want you doing this often- it makes me worried." he murmurs, "come on, you need to take your well deserved break in a more comfortable space," taking your hand and guiding you to your room.

jun - honestly he gets it, between his singing and acting career, he knows what it's like to always feel like you're on the clock. he still doesn't approve of this though.

you just got home from working over time, it's 11:35- you both should be asleep, but he's waiting for you on the couch. looking at you, his heart breaks, noticing the eyebags, the bad posture, the way you're barely holding onto your bag, all of it. he makes his way over to you.

"oh, y/n," you don't process what's happening, about 30 seconds from fall asleep as he holds you. taking your bag from your hand, he then ushers you toward the couch. he helps you take off your jacket and shoes.

"do you want something to eat? water?" he asks while laying you down. you shake your head, but he still hands you a waterbottle anyway. "i'm always scared when you're like this bǎo bèi," he comments softly. "please take care of yourself, but if you can't, i'll be here." he gives you a kiss before laying your head down, falling asleep almost immediately.

hoshi - hoshi is nothing short of assertive, literally showing up to your job. "soonyoung, what are you-" "do you know what time it is? i'm taking you home." he leaves no room for argument as he drags you out of your work place. you're going to need to explain this to your manager.

"i'm not letting you do this to yourself, y/n. it's late. why are you still trying to work at this hour?" he asks, frustrated. "soonyoung, you know why. i don't have a roommate anymore; i can't pay rent with one income." he sighs, "i know, but you just look so- i don't know- tired now. i can help y/n, just let me."

there's no talking your way out of this, you just let him drag you all the way back to your apartment while rambling about how bad working late could be for your health: what if someone kidnaps you on the way home? what if you faint while you're walking up the stairs because you're so tired? what if you're so sleepy you don't notice someone walking by and you run into them and fall into a storm drain?

wonwoo - he doesn't scold you, but he'll get all nerdy and tell you terrible facts about not taking care of yourself.

you're bent over your laptop, trying to finish a whole group project on your own since you got assigned terrible partners. he sits down besides you, whispering in your ear, "keep sitting like that, and you won't be able to walk properly at 40," you scoff, but adjust your posture anyway, you don't want to test this guy. smiling in victory, he kisses you before walking away, reminding you to take a break.

you don't listen to him though, getting carried away in your work. wonwoo comes back every so often to tell you that your brain will start eating itself because you haven't eaten, you'll get terrible wrinkles because you're dehydrated, all that stuff.

once you're finally done and in bed, he scolds you, of course. "i know you think i'm joking, but i'm not y/n. this isn't good for you, next time you do this, i'm forcing you to stop, okay?" he strokes your hair and gives you a kiss. "i love you a lot, so take good care of yourself, can't have you dying on me."

woozi - out of all the members, he's definitely the one who relates to you the most. he knows you'll drown out the sound of people telling you to take breaks, so he takes things into his own hands.

you're working at your desk when woozi turns your chair around and grabs your hand, dragging you to the couch. you try to argue, you really need to finish this so your group doesn't fall behind on the project, but he doesn't take no for an answer.

"shush y/n, just let me talk." he starts, "i know what it's like, i really do. you feel like everyone is depending on you, and maybe they are, but you don't have to do it all alone," when you try to dismiss him and get back to work, he's actually pinning you to the couch. in any other circumstance, you'd be turned the hell on... but he's serious about this. "listen, stop trying to shut me out y/n. i'm someone you can rely on, and i want you to. don't do this to yourself, i won't let you."

you nod in agreement. "good, now let's just stay here for a second," he lays on top of you, trapping you under him so there's nothing you can do but rest.

[blade-dressed-in-red]

heart-shaped bandages

pairing: noah sebastian x f!reader

content warnings: mentions of minor injury and blood, reader opens up about sensitive memories, but besides that just fluff!

A/N: this idea came to me from realizing i’ve placed bandages on multiple people but have never gotten the same treatment, so here’s this very self-indulgent thing. this is also inspired by a cheeseburger soup recipe off pinterest.

It was nearing the end of the day. you could see the sun starting to set through the windows, golden light dripping onto the floor and furniture. You and Noah had a relaxed but productive day of curling up on the couch while the rottweiler you two adopted when she was a puppy, Princess, laid in her dog bed on the floor. You spent most of the day corresponding to work emails on your laptop while Noah did his own respective work on his. One of the collaborative playlists you two made together on spotify has been playing on the tv throughout the day. Your legs were draped over his lap, wearing (drowning in) one of his hoodies with sleep shorts and some fuzzy socks. Noah was sporting a similar getup, his own hoodie (that fit properly), black workout shorts, with some Naruto socks.

Once realizing it was starting to get closer to dinner time, you averted your attention away from your laptop to ask him

“Are you getting hungry, bub?”

Noah looked up from his laptop to answer you, his warm eyes meeting your gaze, framed with his glasses since he was looking at a screen all day. 

“A little bit, did you wanna order in or make something?” he asked with a soft smile.

You returned the smile before answering, “I think we have the ingredients to make that soup we like, do you want me to make that?”

His soft gaze perks up, “yeah, that actually sounds really good right now,” his smile grew wider. 

He's always enjoyed your cooking (even if you occasionally burnt the food). Sometimes you even let him help you out, but it usually results in a mini-food fight. Someone “accidentally” gets food on the other, resulting in random bits and pieces of discarded food getting thrown back and forth, ensued by fits of giggles and usually a pot of water boiling over since neither of you were paying attention.

While getting up from your spot on the couch, you assured Noah you didn’t need any help this time, both of you knowing he still had some more work to get done before calling it a day. He reminded you that if you needed anything, he was just a room away. While you always enjoy Noah's company, there is something comforting and tranquil about cooking by yourself, knowing that you’re making something tasty and healthy for your beloved in the next room over. 

Princess followed you into the kitchen, but soon realized her dog bed was more comfortable and made her way back into the living room. You began getting out all the ingredients and utensils needed, putting the broth into a pot to begin boiling on the stove. In the meantime you decided to start cutting the vegetables. Swiftly getting through the carrots and began cutting the celery. However, your attention was immediately drawn away when you heard commotion coming from the living room, followed by a chuckled “oh my god” and rummaging. Unfortunately your body didn’t have the time to react and continued chopping, resulting in you slicing your index finger on the knife. 

“Shit!” you yelped out through gritted teeth. you immediately dropped the knife on the counter to hold your finger in your other hand.

You realized Noah had stopped fixing whatever it was that caused the noise. He immediately rushed to be by your side, basically teleporting to you when he heard your wince. He was quickly followed in by Princess. 

“What happened?” he asked with his brows slightly furrowed and a look of worry in his eyes, immediately drawn to where you were holding your finger.

“It’s nothing, just a cut” 

You tried to ease him since you could tell he was getting more worried once he saw the blood seeping from the wound onto your hands. 

“Sweetheart, you’re bleeding” he responded with a comforting tone but his concern still wavered through. He grabbed your finger to fully inspect the damage.

“It's really nothing bub, I'm just gonna go up to the bathroom to deal with it. I'll be right back.”

But before you could start making your way out of the kitchen, Noah softly grabs your hips to still you and grabs a clean dish rag from the drawer and gently but firmly holds your cut finger with it. You couldn’t form any verbal response to his action, as no one has ever really paid much attention when you accidentally hurt yourself in the recent past. the most prominent memory being when you’d scrape your knee on the cement as a child and your mom would put a Scooby Doo bandaid on it and seal it with a kiss. It also reminded you that you’ve always tried to help others whenever they got an injury, no matter how old they were or how minor the wound was.

While holding your finger with firm pressure to help stop the bleeding, Noah noticed your expression went blank. He pondered on asking you about it, but figured he would bring it up later and continue with the task at hand: fixing you up. 

Noah adjusted his stance from slightly bending to normal height, he places your free hand to hold your wounded finger.

“Keep putting pressure on it” he requests with a soft yet stern tone. He turned the burner off then returned to you. He bent down, one arm under your knees and another supporting your back to pick you up bridal style. This quickly snapped you out of your pensive state. 

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused with the sudden movement of being picked up suddenly.

After making sure he had a stable grip on you, he turned his head slightly to meet your eyes.

“I'm gonna take care of you,” and with that, the melancholic feeling inside mixed with something lighter.

Before you knew it, Noah had already brought you to the second floor of the house, carrying you to the master bathroom. Once inside, he set you on the ground gently and closed the door behind you two so Princess didn’t follow you two in. 

“Sit there, and keep your finger above your heart. It’ll help slow the bleeding,” he stated as he gestured for you to sit on the lid of the toilet seat while he rummaged through the cabinets. Keeping your finger still wrapped in the kitchen rag near your collarbone. You stared at Noah like a curious puppy, waiting to see what he’d pull out. Eventually, he located the large first aid kit from the cabinet, which you forgot was in there. You could only recall where miscellaneous bandages were placed. Noah immediately went into nurse-mode, grabbing everything he thought he would need to help bandage you up, definitely got out more than required for such a minor injury but the action warmed your heart even more. 

As he stood with all the first aid contents laid out on the counter, he softly asked “Can you please come here so I can wash your cut properly?” motioning to the sink. You raised to your feet and made the short distance to the sink. Noah quickly discarded the kitchen rag into the hamper and inspected the cut further before carefully running your finger under the cool water. While you felt cared for, as Noah always made you feel, you knew he still had some work to catch up on and felt this procedure was unnecessary for him to be doing.

“Noah, you really don’t have to do all this. I can handle it by myself” you told him in a hushed tone, even though it was only you two in the house.

“I know you can handle it, but I want to help you.. please let me take care of you darling.” he looked at you with a concerned but loving look, his brows furrowed and a pout he didn’t realize he was doing, but that was all it took for you to fully accept his care. With that, the heartrending feeling inside of you grew even smaller. 

Once Noah believed your wound was clean enough, he carefully dried it with some gauze from the first aid kit. 

“Could you please sit back down for me, love?” he asked sweetly. You couldn’t help but feel butterflies with how loving he was being, a common occurrence between you two. 

He grabbed the ointment then followed to where you sat, kneeling down to meet your height. He was being so careful with you and walked you through each step of the process as if he was an actual healthcare professional. 

“I'm going to apply this to prevent any possible infection, okay?”

You nodded in response, even though you already knew what it was for. He squeezed out the appropriate amount and attentively applied it to the cut, careful not to cause any more pain to you (even though it wasn’t very painful to begin with). When applying the ointment, you noticed he was so focused that his tongue was sticking out of his mouth a tiny bit, causing you to stifle a giggle at how adorable he looked. He was too focused on applying the ointment to notice. 

When he was satisfied with the application, he got up to grab a bandage from the counter. He pulled out a variety of different boxes earlier and looked through them all, trying to find the appropriate size. He eventually landed on one, came back over to you and kneeled down again. after giving you a quick peck to your forehead, he opened up the bandage package. you were expecting a normal beige bandage, but what you didn’t realize was Noah managed to find some Scooby Doo bandaids, similar to the ones your mom used to use for your cuts and scrapes. The realization made you start tearing up, all the memories from childhood aligning with this point in time, the feeling of everything from the past fell into place for this moment with the love of your life.

Noah was still attending to your wound, gently applying the bandage to your finger, making sure the design wasn’t askewed, then sealed it with a kiss. When he looked up, he noticed you were starting to silently cry 

He softly grabbed your face, his own full of worry. He had his other hand still holding your newly bandaged hand. He swept away some of the stray tears.

“What's wrong angel? Did I do something?” he was unsure if he accidentally hurt you enough to cause this. 

“N-no you didn’t do anything.. I’m sorry for crying i-it’s just… where did you find these? I haven't seen them in stores since I was a child.” you quickly rasped out, wiping the tears that refused to stop falling. 

He let out a light chuckle, but it didn’t reach his eyes which were still troubled from your state.

“Kind of an odd story.. Do you remember when we were going through old photos of us when we were kids?”

“Yeah” you squeaked out.

“Well there was one photo of you with a Scooby Doo bandaid on your elbow, I think from when you tried skateboarding and it didn’t end well. but I- uh, I thought it would be cute to get some online for purposes like these.. I'm sorry if it was a bad idea, I can get you a different one if you’d prefer.” 

He quickly got to his feet to turn to the bathroom counter, but you grabbed his hoodie before he could step away. 

“N-no it’s fine. I-I like it.. thank you, Noah”

“Then what’s got you upset?”

“It’s silly really.. it doesn’t matter. I’m all bandaged up so I can continue with dinner an-”

Noah cut you off, “The soup can wait, I wanna know what’s happening up here” . He took the hand that was resting on your cheek and tenderly poked your forehead, then placed it back on your cheek. 

“I saw the look on your face earlier, I just wanna make sure you’re okay, angel.”

“W-well, when you first started taking care of me in the kitchen, I realized that no one has ever really helped me take care of any sort of wounds, not since I was a child at least. But I've had so many instances of taking care of other people, l-like when the guitar string snapped and you got that gash on your hand.. a-and have always just thought it would be nice to receive the same care..” 

“Honey.. that isn’t silly at all. I’m glad I could be the one to take care of you, in fact I enjoyed it minus the fact it involved you getting hurt. I'll take care of you no matter how big or small the injury is. Hell, there doesn’t even need to be an injury. I love caring for you and I love you.”

The tears continued to fall from admitting your “not silly” confession, but they turned to loving tears once you heard Noah's piece about it. 

With a sniffle, you responded “I love you too. Thank you for taking care of me, bub.”

He grabbed your unbandaged hand, and raised you to your feet to engulf you in a hug. With a kiss to your forehead,“Anything for you sweetheart.”

Just then, you heard a loud thud coming from the kitchen, you and Noah quickly turned to run out and down the stairs to see what mischievous act your dog-daughter was up to. You two came entered the kitchen to Princess standing on her hind legs, with her front paws on the kitchen counter eating the celery and carrots with the cutting board on the floor. Thankfully, you dropped the knife in the middle of the island, along with any ingredients that could be dangerous to her (parental instincts). Once noticing you two were there, she immediately got down on the floor and pretended nothing ever happened. Noah went to put the cutting board back on the counter. 

“This reminds me, what was the noise that caused this?” You raised your bandaged finger for emphasis. 

“Oh, Princess rolled over in her dog bed and managed to knock over the side table with her back,” Noah giggled.

You went to the living room to see the damage, Noah following behind. Thankfully, it wasn’t terrible. The table and its contents were still on the floor since Noah rushed into the kitchen before fixing it. You set the table upright while Noah grabbed the scattered remotes and controllers from the floor. As you were putting everything back in its place, you heard another thud from the kitchen and looked over to Noah, who looked at you with the same entertained but slightly annoyed expression. 

“Well, I guess the ingredients for the soup have been stolen by someone” you said amusingly.

“I'll start a delivery order, the usual?”

“Yep.”

ok this was my time doing anything like this so i hope you enjoyed and if you have any feedback let me know!! thanks for reading <3

dividers

tag list: @xmads-omensx @alwaysfightforwhoyouare

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Yes this is heartbreaking as a concept but its also a really good answer - because it is exactly what I had hoped and wanted the case to be for Buck and Chris and their relationship. Because casue everything about Buck in 8a makes so much more sense if this is the state of things for Buck!

Buck going on a baking spiral makes a lot more sense if you add the idea that he is struggling with the Chris of it all. The baking as a response to a relationship that the show put next to zero effort into fleshing out and developing - but Buck is supposedly so broken up about it that he cant stop baking things! I never brought it up- even with the first mlm relationship of it all.

The clinging onto Tommy and clinging onto that relationship after it has ended makes som inch more sense when you think about the fact Buck is already in his abandonment spiral - that the spiral started with Chris leaving to go to El Paso.

Chris is someone Buck is super close with - someone who Buck is playing a parental role towards - someone who he regards as almost a son (even if he won’t admit that to himself). Eddie turns to Buck for help multiple times in s7 (and before that but especially in 7) - and Buck helps and failing to convince Chris to stay in LA - failing Eddie in his time of need - that is the beginning of Bucks abandonment spiral started- not the break up with Tommy.

And what have we seen Buck do when he is feeling abandoned - cling to things he shouldn’t - things that aren’t working. So Buck clings to Tommy as a coping mechanism - he can’t talk to Eddie about any of this - Bucks feelings about Chris are irrelevant and insignificant in relation to Eddies and Buck needs to be there for Eddie - to support Eddie. So he clings onto a relationship that is stale and uninteresting because it is a distraction from the feelings he isn’t supposed to have (in Bucks head) and therefore doesn’t actually look at the reality of it - he can convince himself that all is good and he can then be there for Eddie and follow Eddies lead

Then because he’s already partly in an abandonment spiral - finding out about the Abby of it all knocks him further into said spiral and bucks response is as we’ve seen before - to cling harder and be impulsive - so he jumps to asking Tommy to move in with him - tries to cling to that one bit of stability he thinks he as - becasue boring is stable right!

Then we have the fact he says he sees Tommy as this confident and comfortable person - and that’s what Buck wants desperately to be - the person he has never felt he is and that’s is nothing to do with him being bi and only just discovering that part of himself, its everything to do with the fact that Chris is a massive and missing part of his world and that is making him crumble a bit inside. It’s not about him actually having feelings for Tommy it’s him trying to “become Tommy” (which is why I remain convinced of my assertion that Tommy is meant to be a version of Buck!).

We’ve been given context clues that also play into and emphasise the Christopher leaving of it all - the party for Chris’s birthday in 801 - being shown Buck rearranging the lettering of CHRISTOPHER on the banner - a play on the fact Buck has been rearranged by Chris choosing to leave - that Buck is trying to cling on - but in the background - he is after all behind the couch - hiding - waiting behind Eddie - at Eddies shoulder - following Eddies lead - rather than being next to Eddie on the couch. We’re being shown where Buck thinks his place is rather than where his place actually is - on the couch next to Eddie - a place where he will end up.

That’s also why showing Buck and Eddie on the couch together at the end of 806 is so important - an episode called confessions - its a silent confession to the audience that Buck and Eddie are meant to be next to each other - meant to be equals - we’re only shown them from the waist up in the final shot - both drinking beer and both dressed - we cannot see the fact Eddie is not wearing pants - visually they are equals in that moment - and as it is the first and only tine we have seen them on the couch together ever - it is very telling and important.

So his reaction to being dumped by Tommy isn’t about being dumped by Tommy as much as it’s about not having that one boring thing that provided him some semblance of stability to cling onto any more, that thing that was helping him ignore his feelings of abandonment that had once more risen to the surface. So he starts baking - an aspect of cooking that he hasn’t really explored yet. And Cooking is all about family - and Chris is the part of his family that is missing - so maybe if Buck bakes and gets good at it - Chris will come back. So Buck channels all his energy into something that is heavily connected into family and the concept of building a family - the show has literally shown us Buck progressing form breakfast through to main meals as his family has grown and become something secure for him. So baking makes complete sense for Bucks character development.

Baking specifically is something kids tend to do with their parents or grandparents as a fun activity - and that plays into the childhood Buck didn’t get - because a child he views as a son abandoning him is bringing up a lot of the buried issues around Daniel - al this things Buck hasn’t dealt with. It’s why the show choosing to show him baking with Jee-Yun is so important - it’s a callback to Buck cooking with Chris (the steaks in s6) and ties into the family aspect very clearly. It’s also why Eddie being shown as the only one to actually eat and enjoy Bucks baking is important - again emphasising the family aspect of it all.

And now Eddie is also leaving - and as much as buck has been supporting Eddie - being there for Eddie in Eddie’s time of need - he was also doing that because Eddie was his rock to cling onto in the sea of his inner turmoil - Eddie has been his lighthouse and his one super stable thing - its the perfect example of them needing each other in such a deep and meaningful way that it cannot be expressed and doesn’t need to be.

And I’m not trying to say that Bucks first queer relationship hasn’t had a big impact on him and that it isn’t part of his baking spiral etc, just that the reason we’ve been shown Buck struggling to deal with this break up far more loudly than any of his other breakup ups (including the Abby one because that wasn’t really explicitly shown as a struggle for him - it was just lurking in the background until Buck chose to move on) is because it is about multiple factors being at play - because it is about the break up of his family and his queer awakening is an important part of that because it puts a different slant on the family Buck has been building and is seemingly losing.

[teal-fiend]

The proposition 2

Content: vore, multiple prey, pred pov, unwilling prey, unwilling pred

Summary: You broke the rules

The estate has always been a place of indulgence.

It is A place where you are fed, pampered, kept full and comfortable under watchful care.

You’ve grown used to it—the slow, luxurious days spent digesting, their hands smooth over your skin, tending to you, making sure you are properly taken care of. But tonight, when you arrive, you feel guilty.

Their eyes sweep over you, and immediately, they settle on the curve of your stomach. It’s undeniably full. The weight of it moves with you, heavy with prey they didn’t give you.

You see the moment they realise.

Their lips press together, sharp gaze darkening as the host steps closer.

The host doesn’t speak right away. Instead, their hand lifts, fingers grazing your belly, pressing just enough to feel what you’ve done.

A sharp inhale. A measured exhale.

"You ate prey" the host finally says, voice calm, but there’s something dangerous beneath it. "And I wasn’t the one who fed you." The words send a shiver down your spine. fingers curl slightly against your skin before the host withdraws them.

They take a slow step back, eyes never leaving you.

"You know the rules." Their voice is softer now, almost pitying. "You don’t eat without me. You don’t hunt without my permission."

The room feels colder. Your body tenses, instinct urging you to shrink under their gaze. You belong to them when you’re like this. You agreed to this arrangement. And you broke the rules.

Their fingers twitch at their side, resisting the urge to touch you again.

"Did you enjoy it?" The host asks, "Did it feel good? Did it satiate you"

You swallow hard. You don’t know how to answer.

"It must have," the host continues, stepping closer once more.

"You took them for yourself. You swallowed them up. You claimed them without me. That must mean you liked it. No?"

The words twist inside you, like the weight in your stomach. You did enjoy it. Obviously. But what you wont tell them, is that you enjoyed breaking the rules.

"I take care of you," the host murmurs, reaching out again, resting a palm against the swell of your gut. The touch is gentle, but their words carry an unmistakable edge.

"I make sure you’re fed. I make sure you have everything you need. And this—" their fingers press deeper, enough to make you feel the fullness, the pressure of the digested prey inside you. "—was not yours to take."

A pause.

"But," the host breathes, voice lowering as their thumb brushes in gentle circles, "I suppose I'd like to hear your side of the story."

The tone sends a shiver through you. It’s patience. Your breath is shaky as you stammer out an excuse.

"I—I was hungry," you say, your voice small. "I couldn’t wait."

The host watches you, Then, slowly, their lips curve into a smile—sharp, an idea forming in their mind.

"Hungry," the host echoes, as if savoring the word. A glint of something dark flickers in those dark eyes, and then, just as quickly, their expression shifts.

"Then we have a problem, don’t we?" The host muses.

"If my predator gets so hungry that they forget the rules, that means I’m not feeding you enough."

Your mouth opens, but no words come. A spark ignites behind their gaze.

Thry already know what they're going to do.

"Tonight, I’ll fix that," the host says smoothly. "You’ll take two."

...

Your breath catches.

You shake your head slightly.

"I—I’m already full," you stammer, glancing down at the curve of your belly.

The host laughs—. It sends a shiver through you.

"Oh, you poor thing," the host coos, hand pressing a little firmer against your gut.

"You thought you were full?" Their fingers skim over the stretched skin, assessing. Calculating.

"No, no. You’ll take more. You’ll learn to wait, to be patient. You'll learn what it means to be full. And you’ll never break my rules again."

You swallow hard. you nod.

"Good," the host breathes, satisfied. And cups your face briefly, their touch lingering. "That’s my predator."

The host straightens, stepping away with confidence.

"I’ll make the arrangements," they say over their shoulder as they leave the room.

Your stomach churns. It doesn't know it yet. But by the end of the night, it will be fuller than it’s ever been.

The host returns after what feels like an eternity. In their wake, two guests trail behind—both unaware of their fate, both laughing softly at whatever charming lie the host has told them to bring them here.

You can barely focus on their faces.

Your stomach is already heavy, stretched with the weight of your first meal, pressing insistently against your ribs.

The thought of taking more makes you dizzy.

You’ve never been this full before.

The host approaches, slow and measured, stopping just in front of you.

fingers brush under your chin, tilting your face up to meet their gaze.

"Are you ready?" The host asks, a whisper.

Your stomach gurgles in protest. You’re already full, stretched to what feels like your limit, but you can’t say no. You agreed.

"I—" You swallow.

Your mouth is dry. "I don’t know if I can."

The host smiles.

"You can," they say simply, as if it’s fact. "And you will."

You feel like you’re floating, untethered from the reality of what’s about to happen.

The host turns to them, speaking easily, guiding one closer, closer—until they’re within reach.

Your breath stutters. Your body is trembling. But then you feel those hands on you again, warm and steady, pressing against your swollen stomach as the host leans in to whisper, just for you:

"Be a good predator."

And so you are.

The first guest goes down hard.

Slow.

your body protesting but yielding, stretching wider than you ever thought possible. Your throat aches, your jaw trembles, your belly groans, full— And yet, you take them.

This is normally when it would be over. But theres more.

You ruefully look over to the second guest. A hand over your wriggling stomach.

You lick your lips nervously. Sizing them up. The host keeps the second prey still, holding them while you prepare yourself.

You stagger over to them, your belly grazing their midsection. You stretch your mouth, readying for the second course. Or third, if you count the prey that got you into this mess.

You grimace at the thought.

Before you begin, you force out a sharp belch. At least that'll make a bit more room. Then, the next preys head goes in your mouth.

You don't know how you manage. You don’t know how you don’t burst, how your body doesn’t collapse under the unbearable, overwhelming weight of them all. You feel a second live prey be crammed into your stomach.

By the time it’s done, you are ruined, sprawled and panting, your stomach grotesquely distended, rising and falling with each ragged breath.

The host kneels beside you, hands smoothing over the writhing, overfull dome of your gut.

You whimper as the host presses lightly, as if testing just how far you’ve been pushed.

"You did it," they murmur, as if they thought you wouldnt be able to.

Your head lolls to the side. You don’t know how you’re still awake.

You feel a rising pressure, your two prey shift and you think one might come back up.

"Hh--ooUUORP--!"

"Easy," the host says sternly. Worried about the sound you just made.

You grumble incoherently. You felt a bit better now.

"You won’t break the rules again, will you?" You can’t even shake your head. You just groan.

"Good. Now, you will rest. I’ll take care of you."

The weight is unbearable. You can barely breathe around it, barely think past the sensation of your stomach distended beyond recognition, packed with the weight of two whole bodies stacked atop each other.

Your gut feels like a vice, gripping the mass of heat and struggle, every shallow breath making it shift and groan. You whimper. It’s all you can do.

You’re trapped in your own body, in the aftermath of indulgence forced upon you. You want to spit up the prey to get rid of the feeling. But your host always wants you to digest what they feed you.

Your hands twitch uselessly at your sides—there’s no way to cradle something this large, this overwhelming. You can’t even move. You dont want to touch it.

The host hums sympathetically, stroking your tight, trembling belly with a slow gentle touch.

"Oh, poor beast," they  murmur. "My dear, dear pred"

The host presses a little, just enough to feel how solid you’ve become, how packed.

"Have you had a bit too much to eat?"

You shudder. Almost sick

"It hurts," you manage to whisper.

"You poor thing" the host coos, their hands never ceasing their slow, rhythmic caress.

"You’re so full.."

The host presses a little more firmly, kneading carefully at the sides of your overburdened gut, not touching where it is most sensitive.

"But you’ll be alright. I’ll make sure of it."

You gasp as a distressed gurgle rolls through your middle.

"Shh," they hush, brushing their fingers over the taut surface of your belly.

"You’re such a good predator. You ate so much good food."

Their hands work lower, tracing lightly over the broad curve of your gut, coaxing another thick, churning groan from deep within you.

You can’t stop the weak, breathy moan that escapes your lips. The sheer fullness is unbearable—pressing against your ribs, your lungs, your organs, your bones.

"It might take a while for this belly to empty," they mutter to themself

You whimper again as another slow, deep churn moves through you, the first signs of digestion stirring within your burdened gut.

The pressure shifts slightly, the prey wriggles but it doesn’t lessen—it won’t, not for a long time.

"You’ll rest," the host murmurs, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head.

"And you’ll let me tend to you."

You both stay there on the floor as you recover.

“Poor thing,” the host murmurs, almost pitying.

“You’re far too heavy like this. I can feel it—your body is struggling under all that weight.”

They sigh sadly, then let out a quiet hum.

“Perhaps we should put you in the pool for a little while. Let the water take some of this burden off you.”

You don’t know if you can even move, let alone get to the pool.

"Now don’t worry. You won’t have to lift a finger.”

The host stands, and before you can protest—not that you’d have the strength—they call for their attendants.

Within minutes, they arrive, efficient and silent, surrounding you with careful hands. They handle you gently, like you might break, and you feel like you migjt.

Your belly is disturbed, and a thick, wet groan rumbles from within.

You whimper, your entire body protesting, but the host is already there, steadying you, whispering reassurances into your ear.

"You’re alright," they soothe, stroking slow circles into the side of your bloated stomach.

"You’re so full, I know. But trust me, this will help."

Together, they ease you toward the pool. The water is still, and gleaming under the soft light of the afternoon sun.

The moment they lower you in, relief sweeps over you.

The weight that had crushed you, that had pinned you helpless to the ground, eases instantly.

Your belly, once a massive, unmovable burden, now floats gently in the water, no longer pressing down on your ribs, no longer straining your skin with its fullness.

You watch the belly bob at the surface.

The host watches, stepping closer until they're at the pool’s edge.

“There,” a murmur. “Much better, isn’t it?”

You nod weakly.

The host kneels beside you, dipping their fingers into the water before trailing them over your floating stomach.

"So full," they muse.

"Such a good predator."

Theur hands continue their slow, soothing touch. The deep, sluggish churns within you don’t stop, but The pressure has lessened, your body given a moment’s respite.

You let yourself relax. You feel a growl in your throat, a gruff, satisfied noise. Time to digest.

You smack your lips. The thought of digesting two prey at once, it makes you feel fuzzy.

Your gut gurgles ominously, labouring over its immense load.

The host hums, dragging their fingers lightly across the surface of your skin, feeling the occasional movements beneath.

“They’ll keep wriggling for a while,” they state “But that’s good, isn’t it? Keeps your stomach active, helps it produce the acids it needs. More prey means more acid. And you, my dear, your dutiful stomach will produce plenty of acid for you to use on your prey.”

Their hand drifts lower, pressing hard enough to emphasise their words.

The weightless relief of the water helps, but the deep-seated ache of being stretched so mercilessly lingers.

"Let’s get you comfortable, hm?"

Hands glide up to your shoulders, kneading slow, firm circles into the tight muscles there.

You hadn’t even realized how much tension you were holding in your upper body, but the moment the host applies pressure, a groan slips from your lips.

The host chuckles, pleased, and works deeper, coaxing out the tightness.

“Your whole body is working so hard, so so hard on these prey." They breathe “Your stomach, your muscles, your heart, pooling all your resources into that full tummy of yours… it’s all doing what it must. Let me help, just a little.”

The massage continues, their hands expertly finding every knot of tension. thumbs press into the base of your neck, working along the curve of your spine, down to your shoulders, easing out the stiffness.

When their hands leave your shoulders, it’s only to glide lower, massaging along your upper arms, then down your sides, mindful of your engorged stomach.

Their touch is firm but careful, never pushing too hard, just enough to help your body relax into itself.

"You’re taking this so well," the observer murmurs, dipping his fingers back into the water and letting the cool liquid glide over your heated skin.

"Your body was made for this. Isnt it amazing? How you predators can put away several prey at once? One person, tucking away two others inside their stomach. One big meal, for a very hungry predator."

The rolling churn of your belly answers for you, a deep, gloppy gurgle echoing from under the water.

You shudder at the sensation—so much weight inside you, shifting, settling, your stomach forced to work double-time.

Literally, twice as hard.

Their hands glide over your stomach, fingers splayed, feeling the way it clenches and groans and struggles.

There’s something deeply intimate about the way the host tends to you, ensuring every inch of your form is soothed, comforted, taken care of.

After a while, they get something, dipping a cloth into the cool water and running it along your neck and forehead. “You’re warm,” the host notes.

“Your body’s working hard. Let’s keep you from overheating.”

The damp cloth is refreshing against your skin, cooling the lingering heat that digestion stirs within you.

The host repeats the motion, wiping along your temples, your collarbone, the upper curve of your chest.

"You’re doing beautifully," they praise. Try some gentle movement," the host suggests, voice smooth, coaxing.

"Just enough to help things settle. Light motion encourages digestion. Your stomach will thank you."

You feel ready to push away from the pools edge. The water laps gently against your skin, cool and soothing, a stark contrast to the deep, suffocating heat within you.

Your stomach, bloated and stretched impossibly taut, sways with every slow movement.

The sheer weight of it—of them—makes you shudder. But not with nausea.

Satisfaction

Pride.

You can feel both prey shifting inside, their bodies pressing against each other, against the walls of your stomach, limbs twitching as they adjust to their confinement.

you love the idea that both of them will be reduced to the same puddle of nutrients.

You take a step, and your belly drags slightly in the water, the sensation strange, surreal.

The buoyancy makes the weight easier to bear, but you are aware—so achingly aware—of every inch of your overstuffed gut.

It sloshes with your movements, tight, overfull, packed beyond what should be possible. A deep groan escapes you, involuntary, needy. You’re panting softly, breath shuddering, as if every inhale has to fight against the fullness inside you.

Your stomach gurgles thickly, working, working, adjusting. You start to feel. Better.

Even still there is the the aching stretch that makes your legs tremble in the water.

"You’re taking this so well," the host murmurs from the edge of the pool, voice rich with approval.

Your gut sways, the shifting motion massaging the pressure ever so slightly.

A ripple rolls through the surface as your stomach lets out a deep, wet glorp, the sound vibrating through you.

You swallow thickly, another moan slipping past your lips. You can feel them. Every tiny squirm, every futile push against the pulsing walls of your belly.

The pressure is too much, but you think you will handle it.

You feel hands, feet, their back, their toes, trying in any way they can to fight your stomach from the inside

Your fingers tremble as you run them over your gut, feeling the tight, strained skin, the way it presses outward with the sheer size of your meal.

Another groan, another thick gurgle.

Hours pass.

The two prey do not escape the confines of your stomach

You leave the pool, you spend the evening lounging.

You lie supine on the plush lounge chair, the weight of your belly pressing down on you like a great round boulder. The sheer size of it forces your legs apart, leaving you sprawled out, utterly immobilised.

Your stomach is huge—a tight, round sphere rising from your midsection.

it is deathly still now. No angular shapes can be spotted under your skin. It only moves as you breathe. Rising and falling, gurgling lazily with each breath.

The stretched skin gleams under the dim lamp lighting, taut and smooth, subtly shifting with the sluggish churn of digestion beneath.

The host stands over you, eyes gleaming with undisguised amusement, takes in the sight of you, bloated and immobile, your breath shallow, your body lax after the exertion.

The observer places both hands on the crest of your belly and pushes.

A slosh echoes from inside as the massive gut moves and sloshes under their touch

You grunt, a strangled noise slipping from your lips as your stomach lurches, the contents shifting under the force.

A thick, liquid gurgle follows, loud and obscene, as the stomach tries to reorient the two humans still packed away inside.

The host laughs, watching with satisfaction as your gut wobbles, sloshing audibly.

You shudder, gripping the sides of the chairh. The sensation is overwhelming—your insides rolling, shifting, struggling to settle. There is a lot in you.

"just listen to that..." they say with awe.

Another push.

The immense liquified mass splashes around inside.

They shake your belly, listening to the prey be swished around, like water in a bottle

You cant stop exhausted moans from leaving your lips. Your stomach is so full, and yet the host plays with it, fascinated by the sheer extent of your engorgement.

Another glorp, another deep schlorp of liquid shifting. The host hums, pleased.

Like any predator, you don't like your belly being messed with when you were trying to digest. You growl to communicate this.

"Aw, grumpy tonight are we?" The host moves, kneeling beside you, rubbing slow, apologetic circles over the dome of your belly.

"Grumpy pred. You're right; I should treat you with a little more dignity." They admit. " you are, after all, perhaps the most dangerous species on the planet. Humanity's only remaining predator."

"At least you don't have any room left in there for me."

You begin to say that you would never think about eating them.

But they cut you off.

"Good predator," the host murmurs, "Now, you must be sleepy after all this. Time for you to go to bed."

[soleilapproves]

If you find it in you to still love me - part 1 / 3

(scientist!geto suguru x reader)

plot:

What’s worse than being accidentally sent to a parallel universe by a coworker you hate?

The answer: said universe being the dimension where you and your nemesis of a coworker are deeply in love.

chapter based tags: fem/afab!reader, physics and neuroscience jargon (I swear it’s nothing too intricate), enemies to lovers(ish)

series masterlist

—

The large auditorium was filled with bright eyed physicists, neurologists, and journalists from all over the world. Why wouldn’t it be? You, one of the intelligent scientists who is working on a five-year long secret project under the government, was presenting it to the world. Making this presentation its official debut (right after there was a press conference done to announce that the government had created a machine to travel to different parallel universes with.)

You just had to stay confident. You knew what you were doing—creating history. At least the bright stage lights made it almost impossible to see your audience.

“There have been rumors and there have been conspiracies about this. Many false claims as well, but I’m here to bare it all. Ladies and gentlemen, introducing, the Dimension Shifter 8.” The large screen behind you projects the image of a small chair with a helmet attached to it.

Uncannily, It looked like an electric chair.

“I know, I know, the design is a little…unsettling.” Your joke earns you a few laughs. “But, it actually represents the basis of the principle behind parallel universes.”

Hundreds of eyes trailed your figure as you walked across the stage to a table with a glass of water. It was kept there in case you got thirsty or cotton-mouthed mid speech. You take a small sip and place the glass down.

“I just created a new reality. By taking a sip of water, I created a new reality. Crazy, isn’t it? Because somewhere out there, is a dimension where I didn’t take a sip of water and continued with my speech.”

You hear faint scratches of pencils and pens against notepads and you giggle internally, thinking how a few years ago, you were in the exact same position.

“You see, different realities stem from right here,” you say as you tap your temple. “Your consciousness is split into multiple different universes. This machine just helps you travel to them. Ergo, your body doesn’t change. Just your consciousness.”

The scratches get a little louder.

“So, for example, say that I travelled to a universe where I was a man instead of a woman, I’d be conscious about the change in my body and so would my ‘other’ self.” He’d be a man aware that he’s in this—“ you point down your body with your index finger “—a woman’s body. Fascinating, isn’t it?”

The presentation goes surprisingly well considering how nervous you were and the questionnaire that followed afterwards had exhausted you to the bone.

You were finally going to get the full night’s rest you’d been craving for the past few years. Working on one of mankind’s greatest inventions was taxing and you’d been holding on to your sanity by the threads of caffeine and free pastries in the break room.

But as soon as you entered your hotel room, you were surprised with a loud pop and confetti all over your woolen grey trench coat. At least you had packed your lint roller with you.

Your coworkers gathered around you, patting your back, giving you hugs and congratulating you on being the most popular panelist at the convention.

“It was so crazy, I swear one of the other panelists only had like, what? Ten listeners? People were tripping over each other to get a seat for your presentation!” Gojo clamored as he patted your head.

“Well, it was our work. I just presented it,” you bashfully replied as you walked over to your closet, taking off your coat to hang it in.

“Still, you’re the face of it and your credentials are what drove people to you. Which is why we’re going out to celebrate. Yaga’s buying,” Shoko said as she handed you a red solo cup. The ominous smell of the liquid inside was enough to tell you that it was another one of her famous cocktails that was guaranteed to get a person sloshed with one sip.

“Um…I’d love to drink this but my tolerance is not what it used to be back in college,” you say as you move away from Shoko and instead pull out your sleepwear from your closet. “I think I’m just gonna turn in for the night. You guys go out.”

Your coworkers looked at you with a dumbfounded expression. “Uh, did you not hear Shoko? Yaga’s buying. Even Nanami’s coming along and he’s a philosophical drunk. It’ll be fun, come on,” Gojo wrapped his long arms around you and gave you puppy dog eyes.

The man was more of an overbearing child than a scholar with multiple degrees.

You looked around the room, and everyone looked at you with hopeful eyes except for one person—Geto Suguru. He wasn’t even making eye contact, too busy with his pupils trained on his phone.

It didn’t surprise you that he hadn’t even spoken a word since you’d entered the room. The man despised your guts since the day you two had known each other.

You weren’t even sure why he felt that way. He just began throwing condescending remarks at you and simply ignored you right after work hours. Going as far as to pretending like you didn’t exist when you saw him at the same grocery store as you.

But the man finally broke his silence when Gojo began unnaturally whining. “Let it go. I told you she wouldn’t come,” he said without looking away from his phone. “Yaga texted me that he’s waiting downstairs. Said he’ll take back his offer if he doesn’t see us in five.”

All your colleagues (except Geto) gave you one last longing look, hoping that you’d change your mind and you simply shook your head. “I’m really tired,” you sighed out.

There was a collective groan from Shoko and Gojo but Nanami simply patted your back to congratulate you one last time as the trio walked out—leaving you and Geto alone in your room.

Geto walked over and stopped when he was nearly toe-to-toe with you. His obsidian gaze raked over your exhausted figure as his scent clouded your personal space.

You can’t help but feel exposed and self conscious for wearing a figure hugging dress, despite its modesty in length. Your heels help you feel taller than you usually do next to him but it’s of no avail because he still has to bend his neck to make eye contact.

He smelled like coffee and fragrant talcum. You had the scent memorized. It had a special seat in your amygdala, years of memories of working with him rushing into your head every time you smelled something faintly familiar.

You peered up at him with half-lidded eyes, sleep already taking over every single cell, melatonin slowly secreting into your system.

“I was there today…watching you. It was good.” His voice was smooth and rich; your skin felt like it was melting and fusing to the fibers of your linen pencil dress.

“I—“

Before you could thank him for his unexpected compliment, he had already brushed past you with a momentary palm on your waist and walked out the door.

The slamming of your door had jolted you out of your clouded haze.

—

Bright minds can also be catty. It’s what you’ve learned after being in academia and later on joining industrial research.

You just didn’t think that people would do it when the government was paying them to create something that elevated humanity to the next step of being a supreme civilization.

After the announcement of the Dimension Shifter 8, the federal research institute you were working under had announced for the need of human subjects to test out the machine. It had worked perfectly fine on animals with higher intelligence, such as monkeys, but now it was time to see if a person who had just travelled dimensions could give their own accounts of what they saw.

Meaning, the next half of your project was about to begin: the effects of one’s consciousness quantum jumping to another world.

There were a steady number of applicants who had sent their info in (mainly due to the compensation money) and they were set arrive the next morning.

“You cannot possibly expect me to work closely with him again. I can handle the final touches myself,” you tried to convince Yaga as your trainers squeaked against the lab facility’s tiles. The man was exceptionally tall at six feet and three inches, making it hard for your shorter stature to catch up with his much larger, and relaxed pace.

“I know you can. But Geto himself suggested that he should be there to correct and verify every tweak you make. He was adamant about it so I let him join,” the older man said nonchalantly. His years of being a Principal Investigator had taught him not to worry about employee dynamics.

Who cares about mental stability, amirite?

“Wait, Geto insisted? Does he know that it’s me who’ll be working with him?”

“Yeah,” Yaga coolly replied. Your eyes nearly pop out of your skull. Either the man wanted to torture you or didn’t trust you enough to do anything.

You think it’s both.

Yaga ignores your clamoring when he walks into his office to settle into the massage chair a government official had oh so gratefully gifted him after the machine’s first prototype had been completed.

“Now, I’m exhausted and you have a whole night’s work ahead of you. Chop, chop!”

With a huff and a finger rubbing your temple, you walk to the authorized personnel restricted lab, where the greatest invention of mankind since instant noodles sat (this has been your opinion since you were a broke college student. The success of your career still cannot buy the rush of serotonin you’d get when you’d slurp the ultra processed, floppy noodles from a paper cup after a long day of studying and sucking up to professors.)

You immediately walk to the storage area where all the things you’ll need are kept: converters, amplifiers and, electrodes.

You carry them all in a cardboard box and place them on the counter next to the machine, which was placed on a small stage in the middle of the lab.

Your eyes glanced at the wall clock. It had been an hour since the work day had ended, and you half expected Geto to arrive much earlier due to his heavy distrust in you.

But surprisingly, he was late.

You continued tweaking the machine, checking the wires and tightening certain bolts. You noticed that the helmet adjuster was jammed so you tightened the screws and applied more lubricant for smoother movement.

You still weren’t convinced that the adjuster would move well so you sat in the chair and pulled down the helmet on your head. And as you had predicted, the adjuster stopped working as you tried to pull up the helmet. “Bingo,” you mumbled to yourself as you recorded the improvements you had made in past hour in your report book.

“Now, I’m just gonna slink out—“

“Planning on being a test subject? What? Yaga cut your pay or something?” Geto’s deep voice jolted you out of your work rhythm. You were still sitting in the chair when he had walked in.

The man effortlessly exuded charm. Compared to you, he was much more well dressed at work, sporting a simple long sleeved polo under his lab coat. Instead of ratty trainers, he wore comfortable ankle boots, making him look more like an attractive and laidback software engineer than an uptight physicist. His hair was always pulled back in a neat half-man bun, and sometimes he’d tie it up completely, giving you a small peak at the tattoos snaking up to the base of his neck.

Not that you thought about his naked, broad back that often. He just had good proportions and you were curious about his gym routine. Though you’d slap yourself on your face in front of the world before asking him that.

“The adjuster was stuck. I was just checking what’s wrong with it. Now I know,” you flatly answered.

“Sure,” he retorted as he grabbed a screw driver and squatted on the ground next to you as you were still sitting on the machine.

The fragrant smell of talcum wafted around you again. It was oddly comforting. Habitual even, with the way your brain would send phantom signals to your nose whenever you’d read his name on lab reports and research papers.

“I could’ve taken care of this by myself, you know. As much as you hate to admit it, I’m just as smart as you. I can figure out tiny mistakes.” You didn’t like the fact that you were basically being babysat by someone—you felt like your work was being questioned.

And by a peer of all people.

“Why didn’t you just ask Nanami to work with me?”

“He’s going on a date today.”

“Nobara? Gojo?”

“Said they didn’t wanna work overtime.” His replies were curt. Much like his concern for you.

“So you just decided to work until the next morning cause you’re such a deligient scientist?”

“Is that so hard to believe?” Geto stared at you like he was going to swallow you whole. You could hear everything from how close he was next to you. The faint sound of him exhaling through his nose, his lab coat rustling as he continued working on the adjuster, and the slick sound of him licking his lips.

It kind of sounded like—

The lab is not a sexy place to be hot and bothered.

He didn’t wait for your answer though. He simply used his screw driver to tap on your report book that was sitting on your lap.

He changed the subject, “What have you done so far?”

“Uh, this and that. I was actually calibrating the machine when I noticed that the adjuster wasn’t—“

“You were calibrating?” His tone suddenly goes from deep and smooth to sharp and calculating.

“Yeah,” you replied with a small yet concerned voice.

“You did turn off the machine after that, right?”

Your brain was fuzzy. You couldn’t recall. The dread sitting in the pit of your stomach weighed you down, preventing you from moving your head and checking if the machine was on.

Were you… no, no way.

His focus had entirely shifted to you, screwdriver abandoned in the toolbox. He moved to sit across you, still on the ground.

“Hey, look at me, Did you turn off the machine? I won’t tell anyone. I promise.” Your eyes were wide with terror.

“Geto, I need you to look at the oscillograph,” you rasped out. Cold sweat began to trickle down your neck, wetting the collar of your shirt. You were starting to feel nauseous and lightheaded.

His glanced at the monitor behind you and his jaw went slack. “Okay, listen to me, I need you to be completely calm, when I tell you this—the machine is on and you’re being transported as we speak. Don’t move. We don’t know what could happen to you.”

“Geto, you need to get me out, please. I’m really scared,” you sobbed as tears began to flow down your face.

You didn’t give a damn about looking pathetic to your hated coworker because your brain was just about to be turned into quantum smoothie (no matter how hard you wanted to believe in your abilities of invention, there was still a small chance that this machine would destroy your consciousness on an atomic level.)

“It’s okay, I’m right here. For all we know, more than half of your current consciousness may have already travelled to another dimension. It would be dangerous to stop the machine now.” You could only wail harder at his conclusion.

His large hand holds your cheek as he earnestly looks into your tear-filled eyes. “I swear I will map the dimension you’re going to and bring you back in one piece. Just remember that I—“

Static fills your senses before you can hear Geto complete his sentence.

——

I haven’t proofread this so I’m sorry for any mistakes 😔

[midnight-in-town]

hello! i have been following for many years now and love your kuroshitsuji thoughts and theories. i’m curious specifically about something you’ve talked a bit about before: o!ciel’s potential to accept himself for who he is, shed his brother’s identity, and grow as a character. while i think this is possible (and would be my ideal ending for his character, whether he gets revenge or not), i’m not sure how he would even start to consider that change with Sebastian by his side. so 1. how likely do you think it is that o!ciel would be able to make that change while still under Sebastian’s influence and 2. do you think the story would ever separate o!ciel and Sebastian for a long enough time for substantial character growth to happen? thanks and happy early Valentine’s Day!

Hi Anon ! Sorry for the delay :) Thank you for the kind words !

So, as I discussed previously, I actually think our!Ciel from 4 years ago (when RC died) is different from our!Ciel we've been following since the start of the series.

As in, while the primary choice to "become Ciel Phantomhive" was born out of survivor's guilt [X][X], four years later "Ciel Phantomhive" has become an identity that represents who our!Ciel is more than who real!Ciel used to be/is as a bizarre doll.

That's why he said, in ch147 :

So personally, I stand firm on the idea that "Ciel Phantomhive" is our!Ciel's identity by now, meaning he doesn't still follow the idea that he should be the Earl his brother was supposed to be.

That being said.

While our!Ciel may have slowly molded the identity "Earl Ciel Phantomhive" to his image and not to real!Ciel's image, our!Ciel is still a character who is full of guilt, about many people in his life, as ch95 showed :

Mostly, his inner self interprets that the guilt he feels (about Ann, about his brother and about Joker and Doll) is linked to the choice he made to bind his soul to Seb and to become "Earl Ciel Phantomhive", four years ago -> this is why I think he has some development to undergo about the contract and his bond to Seb and why a possible conflict may arise between them. [X][X]

Now, to specifically answer your questions :

"1. how likely do you think it is that o!ciel would be able to make that change while still under Sebastian’s influence"

First of all, you are right to say that Seb exerts some kind of influence on our!Ciel. To quote this post, "Kuroshitsuji wouldn’t be as compelling and enjoyable as a story if our!Ciel’s lack of self-worth and faith wasn’t supported by Seb acting as a catalystic abyss." Because, ultimately, Seb has no reason to want our!Ciel to reflect on wanting (or believing he's worth) a future and to try breaking the contract, which is why the Undertaker quickly became such a threat :

That being said, Seb's influence may yet be counterbalanced by other characters who have a more positive influence on our!Ciel and, tbh, that's what I'm betting on, once Ciel will stop isolating himself.

For now, Seb mostly encourages our!Ciel's isolation. This was made very clear by Bravat (who works for UT)...

...and it's a fact that was even picked up by Soma, who mentioned to Agni that "our!Ciel is terrified of being happy" :

Because being happy would mean, to our!Ciel, thinking back on the contract, on why he made that choice four years ago...

and on all the people he believes he doomed by making it (his brother, Ann, Joker, Doll, as hinted by ch95).

However, there is still hope : until recently, Kuroshitsuji was mostly told from our!Ciel and Seb's perspective, yet the massive Blue Sect & Blue revenge arcs changed this. We had Edward's POV, UT's & real!Ciel's, Sieglinde's briefly and Soma's. We also had the servants' independent investigation mini arcs, which all revealed what strongly binds them to our!Ciel, their master. Multiple POVs may help us realize better how the people close to our!Ciel actually perceive him, like with Soma in ch126.

In other words, our!Ciel being a kind and good person is why so many people care for him to this day, but like Soma said, he can't acknowledge it yet, or it'll make him think back on the contract to Seb dooming his future and a chance at happiness. So it's why I believe the narrative calls for our!Ciel to be challenged on that view, specifically because revenge is not presented to be a good goal to have, thematically speaking.

How and when Ciel will have this opportunity for development, I do not know, but a part of me hopes it will involve having Frances as his mentor. To quote this post, "I’d say Frances will probably take on a more active role in the plot when, to quote Seb in ch14, “[our!Ciel] will overconfidently believe that he cannot lose and that it will be necessary for him to carry himself with humility while striving for his goal”. Because by then, “an adult who will be firm with him is what he’ll need”."

While Frances as his mentor may mostly be what will allow our!Ciel to win against the combo RC + UT, it may also be what will allow our!Ciel to be closer to people who want better for him than Seb does, liberating him from all that guilt he feels.

"2. do you think the story would ever separate o!ciel and Sebastian for a long enough time for substantial character growth to happen?"

I already more or less answered just above, but I don't think Seb and Ciel need to separate for this growth to happen, or at least to be triggered. Taking the example of the Green Witch arc, despite what some readers may otherwise believe, there is a gap that exists between them...

...and Seb arrogantly believing he's stronger than mere humans, thus that he always has the upper hand anyways, may be the tiny crack that will ultimately allow some development for our!Ciel. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

TL;DR our!Ciel is a kind character who suffers from a lot of inner guilt, something that Seb won't try to solve, because it makes things easier for the contract, thus for his meal.

Other characters who want Ciel's happiness however (the Midfords, the servants, Soma, Sieglinde) may help him address that guilt and that could ultimately trigger a conflict between Seb and our!Ciel about the contract.

Sorry for rambling, I hope I managed to answer your questions. ^_^ Thank you again for the kind words, I wish you a great day, Anon ! :)

[the-kingshound]

I wanted to thank you for this update. It is a bit late, ik but I very much love this story.

I really hope youre getting some rest because you really, really deserve it! (Not that you need to earn rest or something, you just sounded very exhausted)

I know femtrans Arthur is not confirmed but that brings me to a question I meant to ask you anyway. Arthur was the one who legalized same-sex marriages if I remember correctly and coming out as nb was also only after Uther possible.

So I am wondering how the counsil and/or the people see a same-sex marriage between Arthur and our MC? Because if both of them are amab, they would not be able to make a heir? (I get that Mordred is there but I am really wondering how the counsil views that).

And how do they view a nb/trans MC?

Also, I dont know if you plan like kids or anything, but would it be possible for a trans men MC to get pregnant? (ofc only if they want)

I get if you cant/dont want to answer any or all of these questions but I hope you have a great year and please get some rest.

Hi, thank you for the sweet wishes, and the ask! I'll do my best to answer what I can.

So the Council actually ruled for allowing same-sex marriages, of course there were some people against it but the reasons weren't about homophobia as much as the problems these kind of marriages would cause if they lacked an heir. So Arthur was able to convince them by using an old rule on adoption, that said adopted children have the same rights as biological ones (made by a king of old who had no heirs and wanted his adopted son to inherit the throne).

Having said this, the Council and the court see Arthur/MC's marriage, if same-sex, with cautionary skepticism. Some of them are of the belief that marriages celebrated not with the purpose of having children will not last very long, and that the two spouses will not bond as deeply. So, some of them kind of assume the marriage will be rocky, also considering all the circumstances around it.

The Council is by now accustomed to considering Mordred as the rightful heir, and he is old enough that they aren't fearful about him dying young and so needing another heir. To be honest, the more conservative Council members are glad Mordred is the heir and that MC and Arthur can't have biological children, because Mordred is Welsh and there won't be Venegard blood on Camelot's throne.

About trans MC getting pregnant, that would be up to headcanon. In game, MC and Arthur won't have biological or adopted children for multiple reasons, but that doesn't mean you can't picture that for your hound!

[gotham-snark]

As far as I'm aware, Ninja Batman monkey predates this monkey (Batman and Robin 2023 18 issue publication date 12/2/25)

So yes Damian owns two, unrelated monkeys in different universes 😂 (and so far she is nameless! What bets are we placing, people?)

NEW PET ALERT NOBODY PANIC

Batman and Robin 2023 18

[princema-k]

THE LIVING MUSEUM: CHAPTER 1

(interactive puzzle at the bottom!)

As luck would have it, the detective had a case that had just been given to her by the Chief Constable Barton (talk about a high order!) I watched as she leafed through the folders on her desk before slipping out a small stack of papers and bringing them over to me. Clearing her throat, Detective Layton ran over the details…

“At approximately 2:00pm, a fire alarm in the Natural History Museum sounded. Around 5 minutes later, visitors in the museum reported that they witnessed several exhibits, and I quote, ‘come to life before their eyes.’ There were visitors who told officials that the suits of armour on display had started to move and raise their weapons, visitors who reported that paintings on the walls started to melt and blink, and visitors who said that the dinosaur skeleton exhibits had opened their mouths and moved their heads. But the most damning of all seemed to be the Tyrannosaurus rex exhibit, who not just moved but assumed a lunging stance with its full body, as well as somehow roared.”

“Right, that’s odd. And?”

“Well, since the officials were only able to question the visitors outside of the museum due to everyone having been evacuated because of the fire alarm, naturally they went inside to check the exhibits themselves.”

“And they found…?”

“Nothing. They did a whole sweep of the area, but they found nothing out of place. All exhibits were in their normal places, the paintings were just fine, and everything was untouched.”

“Wow…”

“I assume the reason that Barton held onto what information they had on it and handed it to me was due to the witnesses. Despite the fact that the Yard found no obvious signs of tampering, everyone swears up and down the walls that the museum had seemingly come to life at that moment.”

“...That is a proper mystery. And these files are all we have on the matter?”

“Well, in a sense, yes. These are all the files we have,” Detective Layton muses as she taps the bottom of the stack on the coffee table. Then, getting up, she drops the stack back in their folder. “...Which is why I was thinking of heading over to the museum myself to do a bit of personal investigation.”

“As expected of the great Professor Layton,” I say cheekily as I stand and follow her to the front door, grabbing my jacket off the hanger in the process. The detective sighs lightly as she places her hat on her head, pulling the brim over her eyes in mock disappointment. “Please, Ms. Altava. It's just Detective.”

Now lifting the brim, she smiles brightly as she grabs her umbrella.

“So, Ms. Altava… let’s go investigate this living museum with our own two eyes, shall we?”

And with that, our adventure into the peculiar museum begi-

“Ah, but before that, I have here the directions to the museum written for me by Barton, and it seems to be a puzzle of some sort. As you’re now my assistant, why don’t you give it a shot? Think of it as a warm-up of things to come.”

…Right. She’s Layton’s daughter, after all. How could I have forgotten? …And are we sure they're not really related by blood…?

PUZZLE 1: Where's The Museum?

Take your time and think about the answer, or Flora (and the puzzle master) will be very disappointed in you...!

A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J (Need a hint?: 1 | 2 | 3)

(thanks to @justkillingthyme for beta reading, and several mutuals for puzzle testing!)