#sorry if this is all over the place I have a lot of disconnected thoughts on this

[purgemarchlockdown]

Ah what the heck I'll post it through here

So in some discord servers, you've seen me specualte that Amane's uniform is inspired by the private Catholic Fukuoka Kaisei girl's school affiliated primary school (福岡海星女子学院附属小学校)

Now, because of the name, I assumed this was an all girls primary school And that the picture above was of 4 girls and the school simply allowed children to wear either skirts or shorts (its uncommon for Japanese elementary schools to have uniform to begin with so I could see a laxer dress code when it comes to stuff like this)

However After a bit more reading of their website Turns out that the Fukuoka Kaisei girl's school affiliated primary school Despite the name Has in fact been a co-ed/mixed gender primary school for the last 50-so years And while I can't find a dress code on their website It does seem like all the students in pictures on their site who wear shorts are boys

Anyway to cut a long story short: Amane's uniform actually resembles the boys one more than the girls (shorts instead of skirt + no ribbon + more central buttons)

And I know you like the trans girl Amane theory so I figured you'd enjoy this info

The only disclaimer I have to give is that the long haired child whose father tattles on Amane is in the same uniform (shorts and all)

So like if this is a girl then occam's razor is that girls at Amane's school just wear shorts (also it'd be strange for Amane's cult to follow gender rolls Except for hair?? idk maybe im overthinking)

TRANS AMANE BELIEVERS WE MIGHT STAY WINNING!!!! It would be weird if they did follow the entire dress code Except for the hair. Additionally those buttons are tripping me up since their Buttoned like the girls so this actually comes somewhere more in the middle of the Both of them...if it does turn out my insane "Amane perceives gender in the same way a cat does, it's just there" catthing Amane idea is real I'm going to explode.

Regarding the girl though...I can't believe I can unveil my insane Queer Infighting Amane idea- okay so in cults it's generally heavily encouraged to outright spy and tattle on people who misbehave:

(BITE)

Information Control: Encourage spying on other members a. Impose a buddy system to monitor and control member b. Report deviant thoughts, feelings and actions to leadership c. Ensure that individual behavior is monitored by group

I think, and this is pure speculation there's is very little supporting this I just like the idea. It be fun if they were BOTH trans.

My reasoning behind this is, first of all Amane doesn't seem to have many friends. Her T2 distorted voiceline has her say:

Father is a very praiseworthy person. Once his virtue increases, he'll come back home, right? It's a little lonely, but I'm fine!

Which, okay it's fair that her homelife is lonely, this doesn't necessarily inform her school life. But if we go to the Prison she's rather isolated overall.

Even in T1. Yuno and Mahiru are people she considers "close" but that's after mulling it over a bit due to being asked.

T1Q10: Is there any prisoner you're close with? A: If I were to say, I guess it would be Yuno and Mahiru.

It's not for a lack of Trying, she tries very hard actually. It's just that people tend to note the way she acts is weird and that gets exasperated in T2 where it's said she's pretty isolated.

But also, I was discussing with a mutual about her relation with this peer and they said that it's possible that this question:

T2Q11: Did you love the person you killed? A: I loved them.

Is referring to a Second Victim (This child) and Not her mother because...well one Amane has shown Very Little Fondness for her mother, and two it's entirely possible she killed multiple people because her staff in Purge March has blood on it Before she gets to her house.

Second thing: Cat Symbolism, Cat Symbolism stay winning forever. There is substantial amount of subtext you can wring out of the Cat being representative of sin and impurity, and Amane taking care of it and also being the Cat. Same with having her be "found out" by a peer and then sold out to, to her Religious Fundamentalist parents.

So now we go into my insane, circumstantial evidence, idea of Queer Infighting. I love WKTD and a big thing in that game is that even if your a "bad kid" if there's someone "worse" than you, you can live another day. And this kid can be anyone, the devil can be Anyone.

Amane has stated an inability to be a good girl:

Only if, only if, only if I could be a good girl

And a lack of desire to exactly "be one" since it requires her not being...herself, and she's happy with who she is.

T2Q20: How do you feel about you not being like everyone else? A: Nevertheless I was born as myself, so I'm happy

So, I'm just saying on a purely speculatory "this would be fun" basis. If we got queer infighting 12 year olds who are trying their best to be "good." I would explode.

Also, she is paralleled with both Mukuhara Kazui and known Genderless Freak Es so, yknow.

[flightyalrighty]

FIRST | PREVIOUS | NEXT CH 1 PG 36

Infested will return on June 27th. --- Thank you to the following Ascended supporters: @chaogongoozles, @fiiresiidefrfr, @elizard4227, @grogar, Ezzoh, @susivoi, @calculuscacophony, Eros, @ivycorp, @summersdale @borrelia, @mizukiz, @sanicdetails, @combinegrunt-echo-1, Pica, @veeceear, @quackenburt, ItsmeMonarch, @memendoemori, @trans-girl-sonic, & savarsenic

Content Warnings | Store | Ko-Fi (Discord!) | Read On Comic Fury! DISCLAIMER: "Infested" is a horror comic ft. content not suitable for those under the age of 17.

A long-winded looking back on things below the cut:

The first few pages of Infested were uploaded to this blog on March 2nd, 2023 -- Over a whole year ago! I was so busy, too, that I completely missed its birthday (Sorry Infested). Looking even further back than that, the original story was was something I began writing on December 25th, 2022 (Merry Christmas).

It took two years to get to this point.

And hey, not to toot my own horn about it, but completing even one chapter of a webcomic is a big deal. Especially for me. My first webcomic, Fight/Flight, didn't get very far. I completed the prologue, started Chapter 1, and then had to drop it for a number of reasons (I didn't really agree with what baby-me had to say, politically, anymore).

This comic was born from a lot of intense feelings. The story, itself, too. Some good. Some bad.

I had been forced to move away from my hometown, and with that move, I lost the physical connection that I had to all of my friends. I lost the familiarity of a place I'd known for most of my life. I'm now stuck somewhere... Worse. It felt like a cage. Still does. Disconnected from the life I thought I would be living after college. I didn't have health insurance, either -- Got kicked off of it because of the move -- And as a result, I was off my antidepressants.

So there I was, at a pretty low point in my life. I miserable and lonely and every single day dragged on. And on. And on. And I felt so disappointed in myself. That disappointment became self-loathing, and it all kinda spiraled.

Have I mentioned that I'm a huge Sonic fan? I don't think I need to. I'd say it's pretty obvious. But for the sake of this story, I'll say it again: I'm a HUGE Sonic fan. I've been that way since 2003 with Sonic Heroes. The franchise has been in my life for over two decades. I had a monthly mail subscription to Archie's Sonic the Hedgehog. Sonic the Hedgehog was something that I truly loved more than any other piece of media. It brought me endless joy. Until I didn't.

I had dropped Sonic after Lost World was... Itself. I had already felt pretty irritated with the Meta Era, and Lost World was the final straw. The last bit of hope that the series could recover was snuffed out when Forces was released. It was over. I was done. If Sonic was truly that embarrassed by itself, if they had truly lost touch with what made the series so great, then I wouldn't waste my time any longer. I was so sure that I had to just... Grieve and move on. My beloved childhood game series was dead. Long live the king or whatever. I'd just bitterly read IDW Sonic and think about what could've been. I was lucky to have that comic, at least. Archie had been canceled, too, after all. I was lucky to have my scraps.

Then Sonic Frontiers came out. And it changed everything.

And my god, it was everything. It was everything to me. Flaws be damned, it was everything. To. Me. The spectacle. The serious tone. The vastly improved writing. Kellin Fucking Quinn. It was FUN! It was actually FUN to PLAY. He was back. I was back. Sonic pulled me by my hand out of the ocean of misery I'd fallen into, and he looked me in my eye and he said;

"Hey. You're gonna be alright."

Metaphorically speaking. Sonic The Hedgehog didn't actually literally speak to me -- And sure, okay, maybe it's a little dramatic to describe a game as this great Depression Annihilator but I'm dead serious when I say that, for that time, before I was able to get back on my meds, I was self-medicating with Sonic.

Sonic was all I was thinking about. I reread the Unleashed arc in Archie Sonic, which got me sorta realizing something, and which led to my post where I said something along the lines of "Sonic would hide a zombie bite."

Archie Sonic would, at least. Because he basically did do that in the Unleashed arc of that comic. He let that problem fester until it became an even bigger problem because, ironically, he didn't want to be a problem.

So one thing led to another. I thought more about Sonic becoming a zombie. Bada-bing, bada-boom, Infested was born.

I didn't expect it to get the attention that it did. I felt lucky when the first page I drew Rouge on (Page 6 I think?) blew up. The right people saw it at the right time. I'm extremely grateful for that.

I'm extremely grateful for all of you.

So yeah, one chapter. Woo! Here's to many more.

[lemonsprite]

𝐍𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐚𝐜𝐤 || 𝐋𝐨𝐠𝐚𝐧 𝐇𝐨𝐰𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭 (𝐖𝐨𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐞) 𝐱 𝐆𝐍! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

Summary: he’s so sorry!!

Word count:

Warnings: angst I suppose <\3 (but also comfort) and not beta read TT I have horrible grammar

A/N: needed to put a break in bc this bitch is too long!!!!!!!! I want Hugh Jackman on a primal level

Logan’s back was killing him. He was hunched over a barstool, currently nursing a Pilsner while drowning in self pity- not like he had much else to do at the moment.

“I’m cutting you off man, you look like shit.” Remarked the bartender, looking down at Logan with sickening pity. “Go home.”

“Don’t have one.” Logan bite back, his voice no louder than a grumble as he sulked. That was a lie. He had a home, with Charles, and Scott, and Ororo, and a hundred other mutants but all of that was a faraway thought for Logan. No, all he really cared for right now was how much he missed your warm bed. He missed his home, your home.

The bartender raised a disapproving eyebrow at Logan and he could tell when he wasn’t wanted.

Groggily and very drunk, Logan stood from the barstool, holding onto the counter of the bar for help as he made his way to the front door, the bright illuminated ‘open’ sign causing his eyes to squint and the already tell tale signs of a killer hangover tomorrow to kick in.

Outside was dead silent, even the crickets seemed afraid to chirp in the presence of Logan as he stumbled his way down the street to an old rain rusted payphone, covered in shitty aged graffiti.

The humid summer air stuck to Logan’s skin, and he slapped at his neck, attempting to kill a pesky mosquito as he fumbled for his wallet.

Logan’s leather wallet that was held together by a single string only contained two things.

One- a very very expired drivers license, and two- a crinkled old Polaroid of you, smiling happily five years ago when you and Logan first met. On the back, scribbled in almost illegible chicken scratch was a slew of numbers, numbers his shaking fingers began to dial on the old payphone.

Logan brought the receiver up into the ear, doing the old song and dance when it came to shitty pay phones like these before the robot operator instructed him to say his name into the phone.

“It’s Logan, sorry to bother Bub… I know it’s late.” He mumbled quietly into the receiver, playing anxiously with the long coiled line of the phone.

Patiently he waited for one second, then two before the stress relieving sound of a click could be heard from the other end.

“Is everything okay Logan?” You asked, your voice soft, half asleep, and full of worry.

Logan paused for a moment, thinking over his next words as best as his intoxicated mind could.

“Yeah… yeah there’s just a lot goin’ on right now and I dunno…” he sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Just needed to hear your voice…”

He leaned against the phone booth, the receiver tucked securely into his shoulder as he realized how utter pathetic he must’ve looked currently.

“Where are you? Do you need help?” You questioned, your voice writhe with anxiety and he could hear you throwing on your bath robe and slippers, grabbing your car keys and unlocking the front door.

Logan felt horrible for crawling to you, begging for help when he was the one to push you away in the first place but another, very drunk, selfish side of himself yearned to hold you in his arms and sleep in once more on your queen size mattress.

“Nah. I don’t need help.” Logan finally decided, his voice a mixture of gruff stoicism and… something else.

There was a small pause. A moment of reconsideration.

“I’m at the phone booth across the bar.” He admitted, voice low and slightly embarrassed.

“I’ll be there in five.” You reply sternly, the phone line going dead with a familiar disconnecting click.

Logan couldn’t help the small chuckle that escaped his lips. Even though he’d never admit it, some old still hopelessly in love part of him was happy to know you’d still be willing to drop everything at two AM and hunt him down at some dingy dive bar.

True to your word, within five minutes, Logan heard the noise of your old car approaching. The headlights illuminating the cement and causing Logan to squint. You pulled over, stopping a foot from the phone booth.

The cars window rolled down revealing you, your hair still tousled from sleep and your bathrobe barely clinging to your shoulders.

“Get in Lo’… you can spend the night at my place.” You frowned, pursing your lips as you gestured with your head for Logan to get into the passenger seat.

Logan’s usual stern expression melted away upon seeing you for the first time in what felt like forever. Your anxious expression matching his as he climbed into your car, feeling himself melt back into the seat like he’d never left.

“Lead the way bub.” He hummed coarsely, the seat creaking under his weight and his muscular body taking up a large portion of the cabin.

Now thoroughly sobered up, the drive home was filled with awkward silence, the tension so thick you could cut into it like butter. The roads were dark and your eyes stay glued to the road almost as if you were ignoring Logan’s presence.

The cars headlights cut through the dark, illuminating the deserted streets as Logan tapped his fingers against the edge of the window, his heart tight with a mixture of anticipation and nostalgia.

Logan stole glances now and again at your face. Taking in the familiar lines etched into your skin and the way you pursed your lips when concentrating.

“Been awhile since I’ve been here huh?” He asked, attempting to break the awkward silence as his chair creaked in protest when he attempted to lean back.

“Missed you Lo’.” You said softly, almost quiet enough for Logan to not hear. “I think about you every day… wether your alive or dead… happy or injured and bloody…”

Logan bite his lip, taken aback by the sudden sincerity of your words, not expecting that much vulnerability from you. He glanced over, his eyes meeting yours before quickly returning to the dark pavement road.

A cold pang of guilt curled in his stomach as he swallowed.

“Bub…” he started, clearing his throat gruffly. “I… didn’t want you to worry about me… y-… you know I’m always fine…”

Logan stumbled through his words, finding it tough to even wrestled them out of his throat.

He could see you thinking over his words, biting at your lip as you gaze turned disapprovingly towards the road. You obviously disagreed with him but kept your words to yourself as the drive continued on.

Eventually your car pulled into the driveway of your small home. Pulling the keys from the ignition, the engine putter to a stop as you climbed out of your car, slamming the door shut in a way Logan could tell was venting your anger.

Logan followed, standing quietly outside the car and staring up at your house just now realizing how much he’d missed all this. The familiarity of it all.

His keen senses picked up the scent of your home. A mixture of you and old wood. Logan shove his hands in his pockets and looked up at you with a strange combination of trepidation and anticipation.

“Come in, I’ll get you something warm to drink.” You offer quietly, fidgeting with your key ring to unlock the front door.

Logan followed you inside, his steel toed boots thumping against the hardwood floor. He took in the sight of the place, the walls and shelves filled with small trinkets and photos.

His gaze lingered on a photo of the two of you. It was an old photo, taken back in the early days of your relationship and something tore at his insides that night coming back vividly to him.

He cleared his throat and looked over at you, his face a mixture of emotions he couldn’t bother to hide at the moment.

“Still like the simple stuff huh?” Logan asked, his voice gruff but softer than usual.

“I like that photo.” You respond simply with a shrug, moving to the kitchen to grab two mugs.

setting the kettle on the stove and filling it with water, you dig in a nearby pantry, pulling out two bags of camomile. Logan was touched you’d remebered it helped him sleep better at night.

“I’m renovating the guest room Lo’ so uh…” you paused nervously, leaning against the kitchen counter for better balance. “You could sleep on the couch or um… my bed if that’s okay with you… although if you remember the couch is uncomfortable at shit.”

Logan took in the slight anxious tremble of your voice and attempted a smile to ease your worries. “Are you kidding? I’ll never forget that couch and I have the back problems to prove it.”

You watched you silently for the moment before continuing quietly.

“I’ll take the bed.”

“Good choice.” You complimented with an awkward smile, grabbing the steaming kettle and filling both mugs. “Do you still like milk with yours?” You asked absentmindedly, digging around in the fridge of your kitchenette.

Logan nodded. “Yeah same way Bub.”

He leaned his back against the counter, his gaze still fixed on you. This domestic scene felt surreal- you preparing tea for him, the soft electric hum of the fridge, and the intimate simplicity of it all.

Memories of exact copies of this night came flooding back to him. Countless nights of late-night conversations and cups of tea.

Once finished, you pushed the perfectly steeped cup of tea towards Logan, his fingers brushing against yours before taking a sip and glancing at him from across the kitchen.

“I’m worried about you Lo’.” You admitted quietly, staring at him from over the rim of you cup.

Logan took a large swig of his drink, using it as an excuse to avoid looking at you for a moment. When he did, he met your eyes, the worry in your gaze mirroring his own.

“I know you are.” He grumbled, voice stoic. “But I can handle myself Bub.”

“If you can why call me at two am!?” You bite back, glancing at Logan as you worried your bottom lip between your teeth.

Logan sighed heavily, his gaze dropping to the mug in his hands. He knew you had a point. He knew he wouldn’t have called if everything was fine.

He took another sip of tea, the warm liquid soothing his gruff throat.

“It’s just… been a tough couple of weeks.” Logan admitted, voice suddenly quiet as his fingers traced the handle of his mug. “Just needed to hear your voice is all I guess…”

You glance at the tiled floor, thinking for a moment before speaking up.

“Why did you leave me Logan…” you asked quietly, forcing Logan to address the one question he didn’t want to consider.

The question hit Logan like a ton of bricks, the familiar shame and guild washing over him like a cold wave.

He looked away, jaw clenching as he struggled to find the words. He didn’t want to hurt you… didn’t want to bother you with all the issues that entailed loving a mutant. He didn’t- couldn’t hurt you.”

“It’s complicated.” He muttered, avoiding your gaze. “You’re better off without me, Bub.”

You frown at Logan, obviously taking offence to his words.

“Oh really?” You asked incredulously. “Am I better off tossing and turning every night worried that the next time I’d see you would be in a casket? Am I better off crying every night left wondering what I did wrong for you to leave me- to leave us?”

Tears began to fall from your eyes and roll down your cheeks, too preoccupied to brush them away.

Logan flinched slightly as your words struck deep. He could see the pain carved into your face and the tracks of tears caused by him.

He placed his practically finished mug of tea behind him, the soft thud of the porcelain echoing through the small kitchen. He took a moved, closing the distance between you two as he looked down at you with a mixture of sadness and regret.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” He whispered, taking a deep breath and fighting the lump in his throat. “It’s me bub, im the problem.”

You refused to look at Logan, your eyes glued to the floor.

“I didn’t want you to leave…” you admitted quietly. “…I miss you.”

Logan let out a deep sigh, his heart feeling heavier than his weary shoulders and each syllable that escaped your mouth feeling like a swift dagger to his conscience.

His voice barely above a whisper, Logan answered. “I know you didn’t want me to leave. And I miss you too. More than you know.”

He reached out, hesitating for a moment before gently, very gently touching your chin, turning you face towards him.

Logan’s heart ached as he saw the tears on your face, his calloused thumb trying gently to wipe them away, a slight tremble in his hand.

“Why are you crying over a knucklehead like me Bub?” He soothed, thumb tracing your jaw. “I’m not worth these tears.”

“I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you Logan.” You admitted solemnly, leaning into Logan’s touch. “And… and you left me in the middle of the night without so much as a goodbye… I thought you’d gotten hurt… o-or worse…”

Logan’s breath caught in his throat as he saw you nuzzle into his calloused palm. The raw emotion in your voice slicing through all previous walls he’d constructed around his heart.

He closed his eyes for a moment of solace, his rough hand cradling your face.

“I’m sorry.” Logan said in a broken whisper. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

The words came out like a prayer, filled with longing, guilt, and a drive for forgiveness from the only person Logan ever thought really mattered.

A moment of silence passed, Logan’s apology sinking deep into the walls of the kitchen until you spoke up.

“Can you stay till next morning Lo’?” You asked, voice scratchy from crying and shouting. “I’ll make bacon the way you like it… all crunchy n’ shit…”

A small smile tugged at Logan’s lips despite the heaviness in his chest. The mental image of you cooking breakfast for him in the early hours of morning was more comforting than he’d care to admit.

“You remember the way I like it huh?” He askedC his heavy voice tinged with the slight hint of humor.

“Never forgot.” You replied, giving Logan a sad smile as you stepped away from his close proximity.

“Anyways… it… it’s been a long night we should get some rest…” you suggested, gesturing with you head to the bedroom down the hall, a place Logan was all too familiar with.

A wave of nostalgia hit Logan like a truck as he entered your bedroom. Memories of many sleepless nights filled with you in his arms were seared into his mind.

Hi eyes flicked around, taking in all the subtle changes since he’d last been here- the new pillows, the different floral bedsheets, but beneath it all it was still the same, it was still you, it was still home.

You sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off your slippers and removing your socks, tossing the clothes somewhere on to the other side of the room like you and Logan used to do every night before having fun.

Logan shrugged off his shirt, revealing his scarred tanned chest as he climbs underneath the sheets and duvet, settling in next to you, your back facing to him.

This routine was all too familiar to him.

Logan wanted to pull you closer, to hold you against him but he hesitated, not sure what your boundaries were at the moment. Logan yearned for your touch, even though he’d been the one to walk away.

“Can… can you hold me Logan…” you asked quietly, your voice resounding in the silent bedroom.

A wave of relief washed over Logan as he shifted closer to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest, his nose burying into your hair inhaling the familiar scent of you.

“Yeah.” He whispered, his breath tickling your ear. “I can hold you.”

Logan could feel the tension leaving your shoulders as you melted into his touch causing him to hold you closer, his arm instinctively wrapping around your tummy.

He’d forgotten how much he missed this, the simple pleasure of having your back to his chest, your warmth in his embrace.

Logan nuzzled his face into your hair, breathing deeply. “God I missed this.” He murmured, voice filled with regret and relief.

The room was dead silent, all except for the quiet ticking of a nearby wall clock.

“Can’t you stay Logan?” You asked into the silence of the room, your voice barely above a whisper. “We can continue where we left off… I still have all your clothes in my closet.”

Logan’s heart clenched in his chest, his head and heart at war within himself. The temptation was strong, painfully so. But the guilt, the knowledge of what could befall you made him hesitate.

“It’s not that simple bub.” His voice rough as he muttered quietly into your ear. Logan’s hand, however, betrayed him as I gently caressed your hip, calloused thumb tracing patterns into your skin.

“Logan I’ll be good.” You pleaded quietly, leaning into his touch. “I won’t do anything to make you leave me again I promise.”

Your raw emotion sliced through any remaining restraint Logan had. He could feel the guilt and love for you wrestling for dominance in his chest.

“You were never the problem you understand that don’t you?” He said, voice low and deep. “It’s me- not you- always me.”

He exhaled sharply, fingers digging into your skin as he held you impossibly closer.

“You’re making it hard to resist Bub.”

Logan could feel all remaining defences crumbling as you turned in his grasp to face him, one of your hands cradling his jaw as he looked down at you.

“I love you Logan.” You whispered.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered, voice breaking. “Never did.”

“Say it back.” You pleaded, leaning your head on to his chest as sleep threatened to take you. “I need to hear it.”

Logan’s chest tightened at your request, knowing he could never deny you, could never hold back the words that were on the tip of his tongue.

“I love you. Still. Always.” He said, burying his face in your hair once more.

You hummed in contentment at his answer, happy to finally hear what you’d be needing for months. Comforted by the closeness of Logan, your eyes fluttered close and before he knew it your breathing had evened out to a slow steady rhythm and you were fast asleep, nestled in Logan’s arms.

Logan stayed awake for a while longer, content to listen to your slow breathing and quiet heartbeat. He held you close, glad to feel the gentle rise and fall of your chest.

He didn’t deserve this, didn’t deserve your love after all he’d put you through. Your words ‘I love you’ echoing in his mind like a burden but also simultaneously a comfort.

But Logan couldn’t deny how good it felt to be back again, to have you in his arms again, and the sense of peace that washed over him you laid together.

He knew the sun would rise soon enough, and he knew that this time, he’d stay.

[laikabu]

re: my thoughts on laios’s sexuality (long post ahead lol)

let me start this post with this. first, this contains a lot of references to the new adventurer’s bible world guide book released last february. i can read japanese, but i’m sure they’re translated somewhere. general spoiler warning in case. also… i am ESL, so sorry for any grammar errors

second, if you’re on the team that insists laios doesn’t care about humans enough to form relationships, either read the manga again or at the very least read this thread.

last, please don’t chime in with your acearo headcanons on this post. there’s already a majority of posts here that insist laios is acearo and that anything else is impossible. i don’t like it the same way i don’t like when someone declares they hc marcille as bisexual to a poster who reads her as lesbian. i already have enough people here who declare he’s ace on my own art. at least people on twitter of all places don’t do this sort of thing to me. nothing in this manga is canon, you can headcanon anything i won’t get mad if you hc him as bi or something. just. don’t be weird on my post.

okay. trust me, i love women, and i love the idea of making my favs women lovers but the idea of laios being gay really appeals to me because of his background. this isn’t fueled by yaoi since i don’t even ship the only m/m relationship i bring up here, i just think it adds a nice layer to his disconnect with his own humanity

i do think laios has a very abstract relationship with his sexuality for a multitude of reasons. he grew up in a very conservative backwater village. he has a hard time recognizing his own feelings towards others just as much as vice versa. i don’t really care for the “laios is a monsterfucker” agenda people are pushing but i do think he’d engage in sexual thoughts in his own weird way, i won’t deny his deviantart fetish shit

as an autistic person myself, i relate to how he’d prioritize his special interest over social interactions. after all, he was fixated on monster food so he’s distracted from dark thoughts. he’s not an actual glutton

he’s shy around women, but i don’t think it’s out of attraction. i just think it’s because he’s awkward and doesn’t want to be seen as a threat. there’s a couple of times when, out of armor, he deliberately tries to make himself look smaller and nonthreatening.

he didn’t show any interest towards ashivia (the hubby hunter girl marcille replaced) and just humored her because she wouldn’t leave him alone. his other party members thought he was giving her special treatment so he had to tell her he “doesnt want to give her special treatment anymore”(even though he never did), so she left

ashivia did her best to butter herself up to laios and he didn’t care, but laios thought shuro was his bestest friend in the whole world because he was too much of a pushover to reject him. ironically… what ashivia did to him parallels what he was doing to shuro

also… yeah sorry i keep bringing up that one comic of laios saying if he were falin he’d marry shuro and then begging him to take him back to his country, or that comic of laios wondering why he doesn’t like him(and then the first two questions he asks the magic mirror was what if he or shuro were women). i don’t even ship them! but it’s not a reach to assume that he likes men because of this, even if it’s kinda played like a joke(after all,a lot of people like chilshi even though their ‘shippy’ interaction was played as a joke)

of course, given the setting, i don’t think knows he’s gay, he wouldn’t have the vocabulary to label himself. i do want to dance around with the idea of him forcibly confronting his own sexuality after years of yaad pressuring him to produce heirs lol. laios might not be cishet but he’s a king so he rdgaf about that right now. i’m open to him having female consorts for political reasons, but i don’t think he’s into women, is all.

before anyone brings up his succubus… god forbid an author makes hetbait. a part of the plot twist was that not-marcille wasn’t the only succubus enticing laios, his other party members were copied too. she was the only one who approached him. also… succubi aren’t always inherently romantic. once it realized marcille didn’t work, it switched to appeal to his desire to be a monster.

[husbandohunter]

Two Shades of the Same Color

Synopsis: Protecting the law and protecting his family. The line seperating them were like two shades of the same color. Wriothesley just didn't know it yet.

Genre: Wriothesley x Reader, gender neutral pronouns, Reader and Wriothesley have a daughter

(A/n): this is my offering to the gacha gods praying for an early Wrio to come home 😔===============================

The Duke of Meropide often finds himself conflicted in the different roles he has to play.

In the daytime he carried his duty as the Warden. Having served his sentence through the years he was in prison, Wriothesley was appointed to be a suitable candidate now managing Fontaine's most notorious Fortress, guarding wanted criminals, convicts, and what justice deems guilty. Both feared and respected by them, it was quite an intresting story how he got into this rank. But he also didn't dislike his occupation. Perhaps due to this self-proclaimed 'rough around the edge' personality, he believed the prison wasn't so far disconnected from his nature.

"Wolf-ears, wolf-ears, daddy has wolf ears!" A sweet voice sang before imitating a growl sound.

Aaand there were those who really  disconnected him from his 'nature'. Wriothesley sighs as he rub his forehead, clutching a stack of unsigned papers while the girl pulled the little tuffs in his hair.

Your five year old daughter came home one day, announcing that the class had been given an assignment.

Two things arise in his head. First off, why are they already giving assignments to children? Shouldn't they be learning their alphabets and make crafts or something? Second, why does it have to involve taking your kid to work?!!

You failed to stifle a laughter at the sight, the poor man silently hoping that you would do something, "Come down little one. You wouldn't want to accidentally fall over now, would you?"

The girl shook her head, avoiding your attempt to hold her and squeezed her small legs around his shoulders, "Don't stop me! Mari wants to stay up here."

"But he's going to get tired if you keep shaking like that," you suggested, placing both hands on your hips.

Mari huffs, "That's up for daddy to decide. Right, daddy?"

You quirked an eyebrow and glanced at your husband who seemed to be under a lot of pressure. What can he do? When his daughter stares at him with her toothy grin and gleaming eyes that looks just like his own?

Helpless at her whims, he pleads silently, urging for your aid once again.

"Sorry honey," you shrugged and tilted to the side, "I tried."

"Oh really?," the man doubts, "Then why are you smiling like that?"

Wriothesley wasn't sure how he got into this mess in the beginning. Actually, wait. He did. He just...didn't want to admit it.

The initial answer to Mari's request was a no brainer. Allowing his little babydoll Marigold through the walls of Meropide was something he stricly forbade until she reached thirty years old. A reasonable negotiation, he thought. Not even the gossips plastered all over the Steambird newspaper would be discussed at the dinner table. The man vowed to keep his work life and family life seperate the day she was born.

"Why don't you go find them to help you with your homework?"

"I work at the Fortress too, silly."

Well-- maybe not you since the two of you met here, but that's different. Rules are laws and laws shouldn't be broken. There's a reason why order is meant to be taken seriously in Fontaine. And of course, in his house too.

Then you proceed to say-- it's because you keep spoiling her! Which he retorts, "I'm not spoiling her, I'm just making sure she has a fun childhood, that's all."

"Uh huh, you sure do a great job at it officer, maybe a little too well," you tease, wrapping your arms around your burly husband and nuzzled against his cheek.

Fits of giggles came from above, Mari starts rocking back and forth, "Now give him a biiiiig kiss!"

"Alright alright, that's enough you two," Wriothesley caught hold of his wiggling daughter and settled her down on the floor. Seriously, he could hardly focus. Wriothesley had planned to make his routine as boring as possible so she would leave and he could go about his day. It seems the man terribly underestimated the fact Mari had a penchant of finding entertainment. Should've been obvious that he would be the center of it.

"Can we go downstairs now? I want to see where the machines are working," Mari declares and throws her hands up in excitement.

Wriothesley clears his throat, "What did I say earlier about going downstairs?"

"It's not safe for ages under thirteen and only for members who are given permission because they're criminals," Mari sheepishly repeats.

"Aaaannd?"

"You're not allowed to abuse your authority or give me special treatment because the Warden must be fair and respect the rules from the Fortress of Marinetide, treating everyone equally."

"That's my girl," he nods with a grin. Though the pronounciation can use a little tweaking. Eh, he'll let it slide.

"Don't you think you're exaggerating a bit too much? The working grounds aren't that bad, even Sigewinne takes her strolls there during her breaktime," you chime in.

"Who's Sigewinne?"

The man expresses what seems like his version of a pout. Though you can never miss the small upturn slivering the corner of his mouth, "I'm starting to get the feeling that you enjoy seeing me like this."

"Nonsense," you lean on his shoulder, "I'm just admiring how much of a loving father my daughter has."

They're coaxing me into something, "No means no."

Wriothesley glances at Mari who had still been persisting him with pleads and questions. The reason why he wanted to keep his work life and family life sperate was because prison, in general, can shape a person entirely. Whether for good or worse  depends on the individual, she was far too young to be exposed at the kind of stories and complex reasonings people would have. Wriothesley knew very well that nothing is black and white. Perhaps from growing up in this kind of world, he wanted to know, to see, to let an innocent child experience life far differently than he did. Because now, he had a choice.

"I already know what you're thinking, it's written all over your face," breaking him out of his thoughts, you gently spoke to his ear, "Not everyday our little Mari gets to spend time with her father like this. She was so happy when the teacher said it was going to be a 'take your kid to work day' assignment,  you know?"

"I'd rather keep the details behind closed doors. There's not much that can be said outside the reputation everyone knows of," he reasons, "Besides, Sigewinne is the only exception because she's the head nurse. This little fellow here can hardly prounouce Meropide."

"Hey! That's not true. If I practice long and hard I can speak as perfectly as the papers on your desk!"

"Oh? You know what that's a great idea. How about we spend the day practicing your alphabets? We could also read the Boar Princess while we're at it," the Duke happily suggested.

"Wriothesley," you chide lightly, "As long as you're with her I'm sure there will be nothing to worry about," then you crouched down to Mari's height, "Right sweetie?"

"Yeah! Daddy is the strongest and smartest man in all of Fontaine!" She jumps up and down, "He can even lift me even when I'm wearing a backpack!"

Wriothesley eyes you both suspiciously, "I see how it is. Sounds like you two are teaming up."

"I like to call it a coincidential agreement," you tugged him at the arm and lead towards the stairwell, "Come on. Take the day off and let me handle the paperwork. Wouldn't want to keep the fun waiting, would you?"

Your husband folds his arms and scoffs, "A day off?"

"By the courtesy of Chief Justice Neuvillette himself," you responded.

Ah, they had it all planned out, "Astounding effort on your part, I suppose."

"Please, daddy? I swear I'll behave and not do anything to make you mad," Mari twiddles her thumbs, "Pleeease?"

Wriothesley closes his eyes, a habit he acquired during situations such as this. Well, looks like he was fighting a losing battle anyways. Maybe you were right. He was spoiling her.

"Fine. Only under one condition. You have to-"

"Call me 'Your Grace'!" She salutes immediately, " Oh, I mean...you, Your Grace."

Wriothesley glances at your way again and you merely returned a shrug. He smiles amusedly.

They really had it all planned out. 

•••

When Wriothesley stepped out of his office, he was slowly starting to regret his decision.

Mari, being far too excited for her own good, already bounced a few metres ahead. He sometimes wondered where she gets her energy from. For newcomers, they easily wear out before they become used to things. Ah, that's right, I have to make sure she doesn't disturb the inmates. If this keeps going then who knows where she might end up. Archons forbid it'd be the Pankration Ring.

"Up you go," for now, Wriothesley scoops her into his hold, having the girl seated on one forearm and the other supporting her weight. Until she calms down, at least.

"Mari is reporting for duty," she salutes again.

Wriothesley lets out a chuckle, "Since when did I ever act like a Marechaussee Hunter? Wait, let me guess, you snuck to see Clorinde."

Guilty as charged. The little girl slaps a hand over her mouth, "Whoopsies."

"I'm joking. I actually didn't think you snuck out to see Clorinde," he smugly states, "Well well looks like my little culprit reveals herself."

She huffs, "Heyyy, that's cheating."

"Sorry babydoll, but I think I win this one," Wriothesley boops her nose in a playful manner and allowed Mari to stand on her own two feet, "So, are you ready for a tour around the Fortress of Meropide?"

"Where are we headed first, Your Grace?" She chirped, eyes blown wide like she was on a sugar rush from last time.

Wriothesley raised a scarred brow, "Oh you're letting me decide? In that case you'll just have to wait and see for yourself."

"Yay, I love surprises!"

Even better. This way, he can guarantee that she won't wander off to places she shouldn't be in, no one should be in.

Lunch hour was approaching and the inmates were already finishing up their shifts. He could feel the frequent looks being thrown from the cafeteria, already knowing it will be the hot topic for the next few days or weeks.

Right, then there's this part I have to deal with.

It didn't help that the man's presence alone had the same affect under normal circumstances. Seeing their Warden with a babbling little girl was rather jarring. Mari was...how should he put it, good at stealing the spotlight. So much she easily attracted all the attention from the locals. Wriothesley had never knew someone could be so pestering that it became endearing. Other than you of course. Heh, I guess that's one of many things they have in common.

He doesn't try to hide the smile softening at his features.

"C-Could that be His Grace and..."

Welp, looks like the hot topic is already cooking. Wriothesley pays no mind. There's nothing wrong with being open about his family in front of other people at least. Just because he had a reputation as the Warden to keep doesn't rob him the identity of being a father.

His mind suddenly drifts back to you. Is that why you were so insistent about this earlier?

"Daddy, everyone is looking at us funny."

The word 'daddy' does not escape those around him, percise as a radar and pointed sharply at his direction. Wriothesley expected as much. Actually, he was more surpised she even managed to remember the honorifics for this long, "Ah who cares. Let them do their thing. Anyways, didn't you say you wanted to see how the machines worked?"

A pause before she breaks out into a wide, beaming grin, "Yeah!"

"Then hold on tight," without a warning, Wriothesley lifts her until she was settled on his shoulders and ran as fast as he could, away from the crowd.

•••

"Was that...the Duke just now?"

A confused inmate, still processing at what he just saw, allowed the bitten meal in his hand fall to the plate.

"Who knew His Grace had a soft spot," Another one snickers.

Wolsey who had been tending to the dishes behind the counter exhales exasperatedly, "His Grace ought to be more careful with his actions around others next time."

•••

The shaft doors open to reveal the upper level of the production zone. Wriothesley exits first before gently taking the girl's hand as she shuffled down the two stairs. Thankfully the area had been emptied, except for a few supervisors, it was much more peaceful compared to the cafeteria.

"Wooooahh looks at all those meks!" She ogled. Meks was her way of saying gardemeks. Spending time with a five year old made him more keen to the language innuendos they create, "It's like one gigantic gear working together."

"Not just gears sweetheart, the people here are responsible for making sure ever part of the machine is functioning. Without them, there would be no clockworks you see in the surface," Wriothesley opens a palm while he explains, "I know most of your classmates only think of them as criminals, but criminals have been working for honest income."

"Does that mean the same criminals are now helping to make meks that catches more criminals and keep Fontaine safe?"

The man pauses, thinking for a moment, "You could say that."

"Hmmm," Mari looks down pensively, trying to put two and two together, "So if criminals are honest people, how did they end up in here?"

"Well uhhh... " Wriothesley breathes out quietly. It's complicated. Sometimes he doubts if the word criminal is even a proper label. Becoming a criminal isn't always by choice, some are just born into it, eventually going down a path because there was no where else to go. And the few who escape are the lucky ones, "Ah very tricky, sweetheart. Don't tell me you're here trying to get ideas."

The mischeivious expression he gave her made Mari gasp in disbelief, "I would never break the law daddy!"

"Are you sure?" He insists with jest.

"Yes, and I promised a hundred thousand times already," she emphasized.

Wriothesley pats her lightly on the head. Although his hands were calloused and scared, they carried the weight of a loving father, "Good. I know you'd do the right thing."

From the corner of his eye, he spotted a familiar silouette dressed in pastel colors. Sigewinne had been speaking with Grainville at the Operation and Widget equipment. As you mentioned earlier, the head nurse pays frequent visits to check upon the health conditions of inmates. For the Duke, it was natural that he'd want to know if there was anything he should be concerned about. But now is not the time. He didn't want to drag his daughter when this was meant to be a fun activity of theirs.

"What's that over there?!" She scurries off without a warning, specifically at the direction he was glancing earlier.

Or we can just check it out anyways. Wriothesley thought to himself, using his hands to prop against his knee, standing upright so he could catch up with Mari.

The Melusine was the first to notice, "Your Grace? I'm seeing you everywhere these days. I hope you haven't been swarmed with too much to do."

It's true that Wriothesley had been more present in his timing. The Primordial Sea issue was something he wanted to be resolved as soon as possible, "I'm actually doing just fine, thank you Sigewinne."

"Y-Your Grace. I'm surprised to see you here. Are there any newcomers I must train?" Now it was Grainville's turn to intervene, "Oh, and who's this?"

"Sigewinne?? That's the nurse, daddy?" Mari exclaims, baffled as she compares her height with the other, "Why is she so small like me? Did she get hit by the short disease?"

Jeez. Children can really run around without a filter these days.

"She may be small but a lot more older than she looks," Wriothesley reasons, gentle and firm, "Aren't you forgetting something? In front of you, these people have greeted us the moment we came by. What's the right thing to do, Mari?"

It took some time for her to realize but she perks up as soon as she did. Flustered, the young lass dips herself into a low curtsy, head following suit that her hat fell to the floor, "Good afternoon. My name is Mari. I'm five years old. Nice to meet you all."

Wriothesley maintains a straight face and picks up her hat. On the inside, he could feel his heart squeezing. No matter how many tries you practiced with her, she still doesn't get it quite right. Totally his fault. He never scolds her for it.

"Hello Mari, my name's Sigewinne and I'm the head nurse," the melusine beams, "Though I'm a bit surprised, Your Grace. I thought [Name] said you didn't want to bring your daughter here."

Quick, he had to make an excuse before, "Ah, that's--"

"That's because daddy is awesome and he cares about us so much!"

Urk.

Sigewinne's countenance suggested she caught on that the Warden had a weak spot for his overly coddled daughter, "I see. You're fortunate to have such good parents, Mari. His Grace had put in great effort to ensure the safety and well-being of the Fortress. It's probably why everyone is quite satisfied with living here."

"I know," Mari nods with agreement, "Since daddy does the same thing at home."

Warmth spreads inside his chest and the glaciers of the man's gaze thaws enough for one to notice. Did she truly feel that way? Somehow, for a long time, he didn't think it was enough.

"It's true. His Grace doesn't ostracize anyone and gives them an equal chance of a better life," Grainville added.

Wriothesley crosses his arms and returns a quipped stare, "Indeed. Though I'm afraid flattery will get you as far as none. Best get to work."

Grainville salutes, "Yes, Your Grace!"

"Wait daddy, can I stay and watch?" Mari tugs the hem of his fur coat, "When I go to school tomorrow, I can tell all my friends all the cool things we did today."

He straightens his posture, "No."

"But daddyyyyyyy."

Here we go again. Except this time, the man will avoid all eye contact. Maybe he can try getting earplugs next time, which of course, must be slipped on discreetly so she wouldn't notice. If you were here, he'd be getting an earful of the same conversation he had in the office. Equipment processors can be dangerous to use if something suddenly screws loose. Who knows what might happen?

Though a father can only resist so much and he couldn't ignore her forever. Wriothesley relaxes his shoulders, the crease in his forehead fading, "Are you sure you can be careful?"

"Careful is my middlename!"

"Grainville," Wriothesley commands. Authority drips from his voice that the supervisor nearly flinched from his place, "Check if there's any malfunction in Operations and Widget equipment. I expect a thorough search once I get return from lunch."

Without a moment hesitation, Grainville executes his task as if his life depends on it.

"Daddy, can we go buy some food?" Mari looks up, "I want Fonta!"

"No junk food until you eat properly," though now she mentions it, he is craving a cup of tea by now.

Walking out of the shaft once more, Wriothesley takes another look at the environment surrounding the cafeteria, through a different lens than the last. He recalls his first day. Young, brash, and full of poor judgement. They were not the best memories, but they were certainly memories.

How things have changed. For the better, as it should. To Wriothesley, that was probably the most important aspect of all. He likes seeing signs of strength and hope, reassuring him that tomorrow will be a better day. Though he made peace with the present constantly filling him with doubt. Can the same progress be as steady as he wanted?

He thought about what you said. Then the words he heard from others. The Fortress of Meropide had improved to the point it could function autonomously. On top of that, he received high praise from both surface dwellers and those who lived in the underworld. What drives him to maintain this environment stems from his past. The good and the bad. The mistakes and lessons. The two shades of the same color blurred into one.

"Daddy, I just want to tell you, I had so much fun today. Thank you for bringing me here!"

And if those experiences of his could ensure that his daughter could live a safe and peaceful childhood, then that's everything he can ask for.

[rendy-a]

Sorry, househusband Headcanons with Silver 👉👈✨💕(sorry the first questiom accidentally sent incomplete ) 👍

Ha ha ha. That first request would have been enough. Househusband Silver? Say no more. I'm with you there!

You have to keep an eye on him when he does chores to watch out for advice he picked up from your father-in-law.  Lilia passed on some of the strangest housekeeping habits to Silver and you never know when they’ll pop up.  You remember the winter that both of you were sick at the same time and Silver made an actual bathtub full of soup because that was the correct amount advised by Father. 

You do all the cooking prep together.  It’s not that you don’t like Silver’s cooking (even he knows to avoid using Lilia’s recipes), it’s just that you worry too much about his safety in the kitchen.  There have been some close calls where Silver has fallen asleep with a hot stove on or holding a knife.  Now, you have little dinner-prep dates to cook up meals for the week.  Each finished dish is one your spouse can finish off in the microwave or by setting a timer on a kitchen appliance.  It’s not foolproof but you certainly worry less.  Seeing Silver in an apron is just an added bonus!

You never thought you’d say this, but small forest animals are your back-up plan.  It’s like nature itself has decided to help your husband escape danger and accomplish his goals.  You’ve literally seen mice help him sew up a rip in your clothes and a deer pull your sleeping spouse out of the street.  You are grateful that Silver is so beloved by the animals, or you don’t know how you’d bare to leave him home without you!

You were sitting at your desk hard at work when suddenly a chill runs down your spine.  You look at the clock, there are three more hours of work left in the day.  You frown and decide to quickly check your phone messages, just in case.  When you pull the device out and look, your heart drops when you see the message, [Father is here for a visit.]  Oh dear, your famous Father-in-law is alone with your spouse, and you can’t do anything about it. 

You quietly take your phone and sneak away to the parking lot for a quick call.  It rings several times with no answer.  You hang up and try again.  This time, you get a sleepy, “Hello,” at the fourth ring.  You smile at the sound, picturing your spouse just awoken from a short sleeping spell.  “Hi dearest, I got your message.  How are things going?”  There is the smallest hint of a smile in the tone that replies, though you know he is stoic as ever on the other side.  “Father is helping me clean out the attic.  It’s going along well.  We’ve got everything moved out and into our living room now.”  You look out into the distance.  All the dusty things hidden away in the attic are now all over your clean living room.  Well, it could be worse.

You force an extra amount of cheer into your voice, “That’s great honey, and you are keeping an eye on him?  Making sure he…doesn’t work too hard?”  Silver assures you that he only fell asleep for a moment, but that Lilia was back where he expected him to be.  You feel a sense of dread, “Silver, it is nearly lunch time.  He hasn’t been cooking, has he?  Did you check?”  There is a long pause before Silver mutters, “I better go.”  You wish him the best of luck and disconnect.  Then, you gaze at your phone for a moment before dialing the nearest pizza delivery place.  Better safe than sorry.

A few hours later, you sneak away to the restroom to text your spouse.  [How are things?]  You wait quietly in the stall until you get a reply.  [Do you think we need to put a bedroom in the attic?]  You look at your phone in surprise, this conversation is already veering wildly from what you anticipated.  [Why would we do that?]  You see the dots appear and wait for your hubby’s text.  [In case we need to use the spare room for a nursery.]  You sigh and roll your eyes, Lilia again.  [We can talk about it when I get home.  Agree to nothing!!!]

After work, your thoughts turn immediately to your spouse, and you head straight home.  You see your house come into view and your sleepy husband is waiting for you at the door with his eyes shut.  You climb the stairs and give him a sweet kiss.  His eyes flutter open and he smiles at you, “I had a wonderful dream and now here you are.”  You brush a strand of his silver hair from his forehead, “Which was better?”  He looks at you with seriousness and replies, “You.  You are always better.”  You turn your head to the side, feeling the heat in your cheeks.

“Ahem,” you clear your throat, “So where is our precious Father?”  Silver drops back until he is only holding your hand, “He left.  He said we needed time alone to work on his grandchildren.”  You laugh and think that sounds very much like your spirited Father-in-Law.  You rub your thumb along the fingers holding your hand, “Well, since he is gone, I suppose its safe to ask about your day.  How did the attic cleaning project go?”  Silver calmly assures you that things went just fine.  Nearby, a squirrel looks up and meets your eye before giving you the most traumatized shake of its little head.  “I’m glad everything worked out,” you say as you make eyes that say ‘I’m sorry’ to the neighborhood wildlife.  You didn’t know what trouble he’d been involved in, but you knew some evil had been conquered today.  You squeeze Silver’s hand and that prompts him to lift you into his arms and carry you over the threshold.  It wasn’t happily ever after, but for today, it was enough of a happy ending for you and your prince charming.

[ghostgirl-22]

Do you think patrick ever put on a queer/gay movie as a subtle way to get art out of his shell, like "yeah dude ive wanted to watch this movie for ages" and its okay its chill, look how hot they are, look how happy they are

"Is kissing boys different to kissing girls?"

Oh he definitely did… I’m sorry this is so long nonnie!!!

CW: 18+ NSFW | period typical internalized homophobia

—-

Patrick’s lying in Arts bed with his headphones on going through his catalogue of dvds trying to figure out what B movie they can watch and make fun of while they get high. The whole time Art is using his back as a writing surface to finish his math homework.

Patrick pulls his headphones off and drops them on the ground. “It’s Friday. Do you have to do that now?”

“It’s Friday night, we have the tournament Saturday and Sunday so when exactly?” Art says distractedly, erasing.

“On the bus like I do.” Patrick smiles and turns to look at him. Art pushes his shoulder back down. Patrick shrugs and focuses back on his dvds.

“Stay still.” Art demands.

“Forgive me if I’m just trying to get you to have a little fun in our last few months at Mark Reballato Tennis Academy.”

“You know I do actually plan to graduate, right?” Art says dryly.

“So you can go to Stanford?” Patrick says wrinkling his nose in irritation.

Art puts his notebook down on Patrick’s back. “You know Tashi’s gonna be there right?”

Patrick shrugs. “So, just two overtalented people wasting time…”

“Aww so you’re calling me talented?” Art teases.

“You are,” Patrick says. “When you don’t think too much, which Stanford should help you with. I’m sure they don’t over think anything there.”

“Whatever man,” Art sighs. If anything it’ll help my tennis. I think you’re just scared I might steal her away.”

“Not even a little bit, but speaking of her… do you remember how you let me put my tongue in your mouth?” Patrick smirks.

Art goes all quiet like he’s doing homework again but Patrick doesn’t hear the pencil scratching paper.

“You always bring it up like you think I want you or something.”

“You wanted something, I felt it,” Patrick says pushing himself up as Art grabs the notebook off him before it falls.

“Come on man, don’t be gross, that was for her.”

“How is that gross?” Patrick asks, mildly amused, mildly irritated.

“You know what I mean,” Art says. “‘m not gay.”

“You know there’s nothing wrong with it right? Not to mention I’ve seen you before…touched you before… and…I mean remember what we did after she left? Didn’t I make you feel better?”

“We don’t always have to talk about it.”

“We don’t never have to talk about it either.” Patrick counters.

Art takes a deep breath and rests his head against the wall trying to find a way to change the subject. “Dude, if you’re gay just let me have another shot with her.” Is what he comes up with, dumb pretty smirk on his lips.

Patrick rolls his eyes. “Yeah whatever, fine I’m gay…actually that reminds me of this movie you can gayly watch with your gay best friend.”

“I’m just joking. You don’t have to—“

“Well I’m not joking, come on, put this away, loser,” Patrick grabs his notebook and stuffs the papers inside.

“Okay Jesus, Patrick don’t wrinkle it all up.”

“I’m not, chill out. Get the smoke detector.”

Art sighs and climbs off the bed. He steps on Patrick’s bed and reaches up to disconnect the detector from its place on the ceiling. He puts it in the bathroom. Then he shoves a towel beneath the crack in the door.

All the while Patrick’s combing through his dvd case for one random movie he borrowed from Netflix at the start of the year and he’d forgotten to mail it back so they charged him. (That’s sadly how he ended up with a lot of his dvd collection.) He’d watched it once by himself because he thought the main guys were hot and he wanted to jerk off in peace without Art voicing confusion at the idea of him jerking it for a man.

But it had been surprisingly deep for one of those campy queer movies. And of course it was about a guy in love with his roommate which… even for Art’s ability to delude himself wouldn’t be subtle at all.

“What’s this?” Art asks.

“The movie we’re gonna watch. This guy is a male hooker but he ends up getting hired by this old guy who mostly just wants his company.”

Art frowns.

“Come on, relax. You can be straight and watch it. Movies don’t turn people gay and you’re not gay…so what’s the big deal?”

Art looks like he wants to argue but decides it’ll just be easier to surrender. Patrick rolls the joint while Art puts it in the dvd player.

It’s not all his fault. Art was raised with apple pie and Americana. He’s a J Crew catalogue wearing, red blooded New England boy. His family is pretty liberal but in the way that they support all of it as long as it remains out there faceless and unknown… far away from their life and their home. Art’s expected to play a sport, go to an ivy, marry a beautiful girl and likely start a career in politics if tennis doesnt pay off. So this idea that life could ever deviate from that makes him glitch out.

All the tension they have between them is so much easier to just bury. Like none of it matters. It’s not supposed to change the trajectory of his cookie cutter life anyway. Patrick is a victim of similar family expectations but he just doesn’t give a fuck and they’ve all stopped expecting things from him a long time ago because of it.

Art sits on his bed next to Patrick they’re both leaning against the wall Patricks feet dangling over the mattress, Art with his legs crossed. Patrick lights up the joint and hands it to him.

—-

They’re pretty baked halfway through and Arts fidgety. It’s at a scene where the main character is touching himself watching his roommate in the shower. “He’s hot right?” Patrick asks.

Art takes a breath. “Dude.”

“Yeah I know…you’re not gay.” Patrick smirks, but even in the dim glow of the tv he can see the way Art’s already starting to show in his boxers.

The third roommate catches the main character watching and wants to suck him off. Then while third roommate is sucking him he starts fantasizing about all three of them hooking up, kissing sloppy on the bed.

“Is this porn?” Art whispers. “Are we really watching gay porn?”

“No I wish… unfortunately they don’t show you that much but imagine if me and you and Tashi were roommates.You watching her shower… while I…”

Art makes a strangled noise and Patrick rubs his own cock, smiling to himself. Art’s just getting there but Patrick’s been hard for the last 30 minutes.

“Patrick,” Art whispers. He’s starting to touch himself over his boxers.

“Give me the joint,” Patrick says, softly. It’s their third one. “If you drop it on the bed again we’ll both be in trouble.”

Art hands it over and Patrick puts it out in the ashtray on the nightstand. He moves closer to Art reaching over to help him. Art leans back, letting Patrick take over. Patrick reaches into his boxers. “Mm Patrick… have you seen her naked?” Art asks.

“No,” Patrick whispers. “Just her underwear. But…I’m not supposed to talk about it.”

“I feel like I can still taste her lips.” He moans while Patrick plays with him. Patrick can’t help but ease his other hand into his own pants. “I wanna…ah… I wanna… see her all soaped up wet and…” Art continues.

“And…?” Patrick breathes.

“Fuck… can you… can we…do what we did after…”

Patrick smiles and nods even though Art likely can’t see him. He gets on his knees and Art scoots towards the edge of the bed. Patrick takes Art’s boxers down and starts sucking him off. touching himself the whole time.

“Mm fuck,” Art breathes.

He barely lasts 2 minutes before he’s filling Patrick’s mouth with so much jizz. Patrick swallows it down, while listening to Art moaning for him. All the hair on his arms standing up. He rests his head against Art’s thigh making quick work of himself, using part of the sheet to keep it from getting all over the floor.

Patrick settles where he is on the floor, breathless when he’s done. Looking up at the television like it was fucking nothing even though his heart is still racing.

Main character has moved so far away from the threesome fantasy. He’s now angsty and worried about his best friend who’s apparently being pursued by someone else. Some other more wholesome gay man. Patrick ponders rewinding but when he looks up at Art, he’s lying back on the bed, hand casually on the waistband of his boxers, tapping his bare feet on the floor just watching.

Patrick rubs Arts leg idly.

“Who’s this loser?” Art asks of the more wholesome gay man.

Patrick laughs. It’s exactly what he thought on his first watch through.

They end up watching the rest of the film. Again, it’s surprisingly more emotional than the premise (male hooker wants to fuck his roommates). Main character ends up learning to be more open about his feelings in his time chatting with the elder gay client. And the emotional part is hearing the elder gay man talk about what he went through to fall in love with his partner when it was much more taboo and unacceptable. And how even though they meet late in life they still lived such a full and happy life (if too short) before his partner passed. And main character’s roommate even gives him a chance and they go out on a date.

Art’s rubbing his eyes when it’s over.

Patrick gets back on the bed next to him. “That was nice right?”

Art’s clearly trying to hide his feelings so he just nods and when he feels okay to use his voice he says. “Seems kinda deep for you.”

“Well I can be deep,” Patrick smirks. He curls his fingers into Art’s hair. “I mean it’s cool right? They were happy.”

”I always wonder where they imagine movies like this to happen? San Francisco probably.” Art laughs, lightly. He looks away from Patrick and Patrick puts his hand back by his side.

“Well I think it could happen anywhere but good thing you're going to California soon.” Patrick says, just as light.

Art looks at him again and then looks at his lap. “I mean it wasn’t just her that made me feel…” he murmurs.

“Me too,” Patrick says.

“So I don’t know…I mean I’m not gay but…but maybe I’m something else…”

“I definitely am.”

Art sighs. “You make me something else.”

“Is that so bad?” Patrick asks.

Art rubs his hands on his thighs and then leans in and gives Patrick a kiss.

(Had to google if Netflix existed in 2006 😭😭 it did but they mailed dvds. Also I made Patrick lie. Movies definitely make you gay. Look what Challengers has done to me!!)

[obsessedwithhotmen]

⋆⁎✿ Michael ⇢ *- Too Tired -* ⇠ Gray ✿⁎⋆

⇾ (Peaky Blinders) Michael Gray x fem!reader

⇾ Summary: Michael’s been overworking lately, you take the initiative of getting him time away and you don’t waste any of the time that the two of you have been given.

⇾ Warnings: smut

Your Michael was a hard worker, not only that, but he always put 100% of his effort into work, making sure everything was done right and that nothing went well. It kept his mind clear, keeping him distracted from all the disasters in the world, and the problems his family faced.

His hard work, although highly appreciated, was becoming a problem for you. You found that he didn’t return him until late at night, and he’d be gone in the early mornings. With only a couple of short meetings during the day between the two of you, you were growing to miss the man that you loved so dearly.

You wanted him desperately, in more ways than one, so you took the initiative of requesting some time away from work that was authorized from the boss himself, now all you had to do was tell him.

“Come in!”

You entered your boyfriend’s office, a basket filled with groceries that you had shopped for earlier in the day, as well as lunch for Michael, knowing he probably was yet to feed himself. “Just me.” You smiled, walking over to his desk and unloading his food. “I’ve brought you lunch, some left overs from last night… since you didn’t eat your dinner.” You stated, in a hint of annoyance in your tone of voice as you passed him the food.

“I know, I know. I’m sorry.” He apologized, opening up the container of food and grabbing the fork that you passed him, “I had another late night last night, and I was too bloody exhausted to eat.” He told you, shoving a spoonful of the leftovers into his mouth.

“Late nights seem to be the normal now.” You mumbled, sitting down in the seat across from him, “you come home late, most nights I’m already passed out. Then you leave early before I’m even awake.”

He let out a sigh, dropping his fork. “I know it’s not ideal, but there’s a lot of work that needs to be done, alright. Tommy’s asked for help and I want to help him.” He explained, watching you through tired eyes.

“There needs to be a limit though, Michael. You can’t push yourself to exhaustion. It isn’t healthy for you, especially when your not even eating because your too tired. I don’t care that we don’t see each-other, it’s your health that I’m worried about the most.” You replied, your concern showing not only in your words but in your appearance as well.

“You’re right.” He nodded his head. “Maybe I should speak with Tommy about having a break, or at least getting less work.” He agreed.

You stood up, a smile on your face as you walked around his desk and behind him. “No need.” You placed your hands on his shoulder, trailing them down to his chest, “I already spoke to him. He’s given you the week off.”

“Did you now?”

You hummed. “That means, a week to ourselves.” You smirked as all the inappropriate thoughts ran through your mind at a rapid speed.

“Better get started then.” He spun around in his chair, pulling you down into his lap, you let out a squeal as you felt yourself fall into his body, using your hands to stop yourself from colliding fully with him.

You leaned in, shoving your lips onto his and into a kiss that started off immediately with passion and desperations. Your lips moved against one another, starving as you savored the moment that seemed rare to happen as of late.

Slowly, your hips began to move against his, feeling his hands drop down to your hips to help you along with the movement. You moaned into his mouth, latching your hands into his coat before desperately attempting to strip him of it. You shoved it off his shoulders, letting it fall the rest of the way before moving to his white button up and fumbling to get it undone. “You’re eager tonight, love.” Michael was breathing heavily as he disconnected from your lips, running his tongue over his bottom lip.

“Can you blame me?” You replied.

Once you had finally undone the buttons, you ripped his shirt off of him before helping him remove your outfit.

The both of you stood up to take off the rest of the clothing, standing naked before one another. “You alright with being on top, tonight?” He asked, sitting back down in his chair.

You happily nodded, straddling his waist and hovering over top of him. Moving a hand down, you grabbed his hardened cock, giving it a few strokes before slowly lowering yourself down. His tip met your wet entrance as you rubbed it back and forth to collect your juices, then pushed it into your hole.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you lowered yourself down, feeling Michael penetrate your walls the further you slid down. “Michael…” you’d drawled out, other hand clawing at his chest.

He watched you, bottom lip between his teeth and through hooded eyes, enjoying the sight of you taking him all. Michael let out a groan as he bottomed out inside you. “Feels good, eh?” He grunted, reaching up and fondling your tits, “stuffed full of me.” He pinched your nipple lightly.

You went to reply, but all that came out was a gasp as he quickly slapped your tit, watching the way your face morphed with pleasure. “There’s that face I missed.” He chuckled.

You glared at him, resting your face in the crook of his neck to hide your expression.

He helped you move with his hands on your hips once more, lifting you up and then guiding you down. It wasn’t often that you got to be on top, Michael preferring to do all the work, but you could never say no to the feeling of being stuffed full of your lovers cock.

“There ya’ go…” you moved on your own, bouncing up and down and fastening the pace.

“Oh my-” your mouth dropped open as moans spilled out. “So good.” You moaned.

Michael’s gaze was visioned in on your tits, watching the way they jumped up and down with every bounce you did, loving the way they moved. “Fuck-” he hissed, squeezing at the flesh of your hips and digging his nails in.

Your bounces stopped, finding the position to be very tiring and chose to roll your hips down against him, pushing yourself further onto him. His hands slid down to your ass, gripping and pulling you back and forth. “Can feel you squeezing me.” He mentioned, giving your nipple another punch so he could feel your walls tighten one more.

“Yeah…? How do I feel?” You asked him breathlessly, taking your fingers through his hair and moving his neck to the side so you could suck at the sensitive part of his skin.

“Fucking great.” He grunted, giving your ass a slap this time. “Everything about you is just fucking perfect.”

After a while of grinding, you returned back to bouncing and before you knew it, you growing closer to finishing at a rapid pace. “I’m close, Michael.” You panted, hand reaching down to rub furiously at your clit.

“Shit- me too, love.” He replied.

His arms wrapped around your body, holding you close as he began to fuck up into you, feeling a newfound wave of energy hit him. His hips met yours harshly, balls smacking into your backside with every thrust upwards.

“Fuck- Michael!” You cried out, orgasm washing over you as you twitched against him.

Your toes curled and your walls tightened even greater around him, feeling your release hit you hard. Your nails dug into anything possible.

“Where do you want it?” He asked.

“In me, please cum in me, Michael. Need you so bad!” You begged him.

He suddenly held you down, stilling as deep as possible inside you after slamming you down against him, holding you close as he shot his load in, groaning out profanities.

He slumped down against you, his hold loosening around your body as he shot out the last drop of cum into you. “Fuck…”

“And there’s only more to come. We’ve got a whole week of making up to do.”

𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Jeonghan: Sold (Part One)

Characters: Jeonghan x female reader (this part has no mention of reader tho hehe sorry!!)

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, fantasy, angst, loooots of mentions of the black market/human trafficking, people in cages, just a lot of bad things happening here lmao

Word count: 1,555

Summary: If Jooyeon and Baekhyun never went snooping around the black market, they would’ve never discovered the human trafficking ring and wanted to help. They would’ve never discovered you inside one of the many cages full of people, and Jeonghan would’ve never went against the alphas and demanded they help. But for you, Jeonghan would do anything, even if it means bringing back trouble from a past he never knew about.

a/n: everyone thought i gave up on tftp BUT I DIDN'T i just haven't gotten a chance to really sit down and work on anything BUT FINALLY HERE IT IS!!!! updates will be slow btw please be patient with me <3

Next | Sold Masterlist

Wonwoo told her no. Hell, even Danbi told her no. But what were they supposed to do when Baekhyun scoffed and said, “It’s fine, I’ll go with her. Let’s go, kid.”

So now they were awkwardly standing toward the edge of the market, acting like they were perusing the stands but they were actually keeping an eye out to see if Baekhyun and Jooyeon would return. It wasn’t that they didn’t trust Baekhyun to keep the younger girl safe, but it was that anything could happen to them where they’d gone. The black market was a lawless land.

“What’s that over there?” Jooyeon had pointed out as they group got closer toward the secluded area of the market that nobody really went toward.

There was a slight disconnect between the market the pack typically browsed in, and the illegal and shady one. If one wasn’t paying attention, they might wander straight into the black market – which had already happened before and was why Jooyeon became so curious in the first place – but it was clear that a lot of people didn’t go over toward the black market, and a lot of things were being kept hidden for a reason.

Such as the large tent made out of tarps that was put up toward the back corner, and it had caught Jooyeon’s eye since it was something different.

“I don’t know, but there’s a lot of sound coming from inside,” Baekhyun mumbled as he tried to focus in on the tarps.

And now they were off investigating while Wonwoo and his sister worried sick over them. Wonwoo was doing his best to try and stay focused on their sounds, but it was difficult with them so far away and a lot going on between them. There were too many people and things that were starting to drown them out.

The Jeon siblings thought it was a nice coincidence that they had run into Baekhyun at the market. He said he was just wandering around, trying to find something to do to pass the time because he was bored out of his mind. But they should’ve considered that the older wolf and the young thief would’ve been a match made in Hell. Then again, neither sibling thought Jooyeon would want to suddenly go investigate the black market of all things.

Wonwoo spotted them first, and his head fully whipping around to watch them was what caught Danbi’s attention. The pair were hurrying back toward them, Jooyeon in front even though Baekhyun was definitely faster, but he seemed to be gently pushing her to go faster. The looks on their faces said it all: they saw something they shouldn’t have.

That, or, Danbi and Wonwoo also needed to run.

“We need to get to Junmyeon,” Baekhyun said hurriedly before the pair were even close enough for Danbi to hear them.

But Wonwoo heard and his eyebrows furrowed, “Why, what’s wrong? What happened?”

“I’ll explain later,” the older man gestured with his head for the siblings to follow before he started in the direction of his home. “Let’s go.”

But Jooyeon didn’t catch the conversation and told Danbi and Wonwoo with wide eyes, “There’s people in cages in there. A lot of them.”

“Are they alive?” Wonwoo questioned.

“Yeah,” Baekhyun’s short laugh was dry and void of any humor, “and that’s kinda scaring me more than if they were dead.”

-

A knock at the door. Seungcheol was already dreading it because it was a knock. It wasn’t just somebody coming right in like Jooyeon and the Jeon siblings would if it was them coming home from the market. A knock meant a stranger or it meant the trio got themselves into trouble.

He recognized Junmyeon’s scent, and he probably would’ve sensed his arrival had he not been helping calm Jiwoo down after a meltdown over her toy wooden train getting stuck underneath the couch. He also sensed Jooyeon, and he could sense the siblings as well.

He let out a deep sigh as he swung open the door.

Before Junmyeon could even say anything, the younger alpha’s golden eyes landed on his mate, “What did you do?”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Junmyeon chuckled, “Baekhyun did it, too.”

“We didn’t do anything,” Danbi assured him before breezing by him and into the house with her brother following, slightly bowing his head toward his alpha as he went.

“Can we come in?” Junmyeon asked, Dae by his side with you and Baekhyun standing there looking like children in trouble. “This news might be…a lot.”

Seungcheol stood to the side and gestured for the quad to enter, shooting his mate a scolding look as she followed Junmyeon and Daisy into the house. 

“I didn’t even get in trouble!” she huffed. “Why are you mad at me?”

“You were escorted home by Junmyeon. That’s reason enough. That means something happened.”

“Something did happen, yes,” Junmyeon confirmed as they went to sit in the living room.

Of course, hearing the commotion, the rest of the pack began to gather.

“Thankfully, they weren’t spotted or followed,” he continued. 

“The fact that he said that means you did something you weren’t supposed to,” Seungcheol pointed out to his mate.

As Junmyeon took a seat on one of the couches, he let out a sigh. Dae sat down beside him, silently waving to some of the wolves and mates as they entered, still smiling despite what Baekhyun had told their pack when they arrived at his house.

“Jooyeon and Baekhyun may have discovered a human trafficking ring,” Junmyeon stated bluntly.

Everyone was shocked hearing that. It was the last thing they expected to hear, actually. Some let out soft gasps and others began murmuring, wondering what kind of trafficking and how they could’ve found it.

Seungcheol’s eyes widened, threatening to bulge out of his head. Then his widened eyes went to Jooyeon.

“What were you thinking?!” he exclaimed. “How many times have I had to explicitly tell you not to go anywhere near the black market?! Why the hell would you go against me?! Shin Jooyeon, you could’ve been caught and thrown into it!”

Baekhyun held up a hand to get Seungcheol to stop yelling, “To be fair, I wasn’t the best influence. She wanted to go and I said I’d go with her.”

“And what, I’m supposed to tell Baekhyun no?” Wonwoo asked.

“How did you discover this…trafficking ring?” Jihoon wondered.

“I noticed this big tent made out of tarps that wasn’t there before. I got curious,” she shrugged. “So we snuck over and there was a little tear in one of them and Baekhyun peeked through and saw all these people in cages.”

“There was maybe…about six people to a cage? Their clothes looked dirty and they all looked like hell,” Baekhyun elaborated. “I think they’re just barely being kept alive. And they all have collars on.”

“As sad as that is,” Minghao began, “...why did you come here to tell us about it?”

Jeonghan nodded with a shrug, “Respectfully, if it doesn’t have to do with us, we’d rather stay away from trouble. We’ve been in enough of it.”

“Well, that’s kind of exactly why,” Junmyeon chuckled. “I wanted to see if your pack would be willing to help them escape, or if we decide the situation should be left alone. I’d hate to let a bunch of innocent people go through that, but I also don’t know if I’m willing to risk my pack’s lives for something that doesn’t really involve us. Getting caught in the Capitol is even more dangerous than getting caught in any old town.”

“Especially in the black market,” Jihoon added.

“But…” Kyung paused like she knew she would get backlash for what she was about to say, “can we live with ourselves knowing there’s a human trafficking ring going on and we did nothing to stop it?”

“No offense, but didn’t a ton of your old pack die from trying to help people?” Soonyoung asked a little too bluntly, but it was apparent he wasn’t purposefully trying to sound snappy.

Kyung looked at him, “Remind me who helped your pack at your old house and even died for one of your brothers?”

Soonyoung’s cheeks dusted pink as he realized how rude he sounded and he mumbled a, “Right, sorry…”

“Okay, Kyung has a point,” Seungcheol admitted. “Honestly…I’d feel really shitty if we didn’t try to help.”

“I get that, but is it even worth the risk?” Jihoon asked.

“Maybe we go scope it out,” Hansol suggested with a shrug. “See how difficult it would be to execute a giant prison breakout. If it’s too dangerous, we can sleep better at night knowing we wouldn’t have been able to handle it.”

Seungcheol looked to the other three alphas. They all looked between each other and shrugged before looking to Junmyeon for his take.

“Sounds alright to me,” he decided. “When should we go?”

“Probably as soon as possible,” Jihoon guessed. “Who knows how long they’ll be kept there, right? They might be getting sold one at a time or maybe somebody already bought them all and they’re there for safe keeping until they can get picked up.”

“So, tonight?” Soonyoung asked.

Seungcheol looked back at Junmyeon, “Tonight?”

“Tonight works,” he nodded. “We’ll meet you there at midnight.”

»»————-　　————-««

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[dazedandconfused-15]

Dom billy giving you a bubble bath after a long day at work, he sits behind you and rubs your puffy pussy calling you his good girl and ur just his subby girlfriend crying cus hes hands are so thick and perfect 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫❤️❤️

Here you go😇😝

Warning: 18+, sexual content.

Dragging yourself to the kitchen, the full moon's leftovers from a restless night still haunt you. As soon as you got home earlier, you laid down on the couch to get a few minutes of rest. Surprise surprise, that turned into a solid hour nap. You hate leaving the dishes in the sink, so as soon as you see them you start washing them before preparing dinner later.

-Babe?

-In here! – you answer, rubbing your forehead with your arm. A lock of hair falls on your face and you blow it away.

Billy enters the kitchen and puts the house keys in the bowl, his eyes on you. -Hey.

You give him a tired smile, rinse a breakfast bowl under water, and place it on the dish rack. -Sorry, I forgot to wash the breakfast things. When I got home I just had to sit on the couch for a bit but fell asleep. I was exhausted.

Billy comes up to you as you rub a dish with the sponge. -Not a big deal. Leave it here, I’ll do it later.

-I’m almost done.

You sigh as he turns off the tap, resting a hand on your arm. -It's Friday. I’ll do it. Just c’mere.

You grab the towel he holds out to you, drying your hands. You turn towards him, finding yourself trapped between the kitchen counter and his body. His blue eyes roam over your face. He has a spot of motor oil on his cheekbone, which you brush away with your thumb.

-What’s going on? D’you have a bad day? – he asks as his fingers graze the skin of your hip under your shirt.

-No, no. Just...just a long one, that’s all.

Billy hums. He moves closer and kisses the corner of your mouth as his lips linger there, his mustache teasing you deliciously. You can smell the faint scent of cigarettes in his kiss.

-Alright. Let's get you in the bath. Relax a bit', huh? - he asks, his big hand goes up your back and wraps itself around the back of your neck, warm and reassuring.

A bath sounds like a good idea.

A few minutes later, your body sinks in the bathtub as you let the warmth of the hot water envelop you. The bubbles shimmer like iridescent jewels. The rhythmic sound of their bursting orchestrates a gentle melody.

-Aren't you coming? – you ask Billy.

He is sitting to your left, his arms resting against the edge of the tub. He reaches out a hand and brushes your lips with his thumb.

-I thought you wanted to be alone for a while.

You shake your head, kissing his thumb. Billy gets the message and stands up, undressing. When he sits behind you and grabs your hips, drawing you closer to him, you lean your back against his chest with a satisfied hum. His hands rest against your belly. You never cease to be amazed at how your bodies contrast with each other. His golden skin seems even more tanned against your fair one. Your legs trapped between his are small.

Wrapped in the warmth of his body and the warm water, you let out a long sigh trying to ignore the tension in your shoulders. You try to disconnect yourself from thoughts of work. It's no use at the moment.

-You need to stop worrying so much, y'know. - Billy says at one point. His thumbs draw circles on your belly, which relaxes your nerves a little. 

-I know. It's just...there's so much to do. I don't even know if it's gonna work.

You just opened a coffee shop in Hawkins. Things are going well so far, but there's still so much to do. Robin and Max are a great help. Taking care of the marketing and branding part has taken a lot of work, and you all really want this business to work. You are finishing up the recipes and adjusting some aspects of the interior design, but the pressure is a lot.

-Don’t be so negative. The food’s great. Have I tried it or not?

-Yeah...

He nudges your jaw with his nose. -And what did I say? Like the pancakes, what did I say when I ate those pancakes? You know I'm always straight-up with you, especially with this stuff.

You hum in acknowledgment, folding your left leg and resting it against his muscular thigh. -You loved them.

-That's right. I'm not the only one. When you guys gave Eddie one of those blueberry muffins? Man, he cleaned up the whole tray.

You let out a laugh at the memory of that episode.

-You worry too much. S'gonna be great.

-You're right. - you murmur, feeling tingles spread through your belly as his hands creep further up.

-Now you just need to relax. - his breath brushes your ear as his thumbs grazes your nipples, which immediately stiffen under his touch. -Yeah?

You nod, his thumbs sending direct signals between your legs as he rolls your nipples between them.

-Let me take care of ya.

A gasp leaves your lips as you feel his fingers graze the petals of your sex. His hand is big enough to cup it entirely. It is as if an electric shock is going through your body. You can feel the blood rushing down there as all of your nerves wake up from his touch. He knows your body by heart, knows exactly how to touch you, what gets you squirming for him. You had a couple boyfriends before him, but none of them was able to touch you like him. Not even close. And it wasn’t a matter of time either, because Billy got you gushing all over his hand the first time he touched you in that parking lot a year ago. His finger rubs your clit in slow circles, you can feel the wetness build up no matter the water surrounding you. You instinctively arch your back, seeking contact with his hand.

-You're so eager, aren't you? - Billy reprimands you as he bites your ear, slowing down his movements. -Are you gonna be good and stop moving?

-Huh huh. – you bite your lower lip as you strain to relax back against his torso.

You feel his hard length pressing against your lower back, and it only increases the need for release. His fingers are spread to each side of your labia, and he begins to slowly massage you up and down, your throbbing, hardened clit rubbing against the palm of his hand.

-Mh, yes. - you whisper with a gasp at his touch.

The water around his arm has cleared from the foam and you can see his large hand rubbing you, turning you on even more. His other hand is on your left breast, playing with your nipple poking out of the water.

He pants against your ear as he brushes your slit with his middle index finger and you automatically twitch with the need to feel him pushing inside your hole.

-Such a greedy pussy. - he rumbles. Then his words cut through you in his slow, accusing tone. -Can you feel how wet you are?

-Mh, just need it so bad...

-What do you need, baby? - he asks, knowing fully well what you want as he circles your entrance with his finger. Waiting for you to say the word.

-Your fingers. – you breathe out, and it takes all of you not to thrust your hips forward and swallow his finger.

-Where do you need 'em?

You feel your cheeks burning. You have always been shy. Billy is the opposite of you. Has always been. He’s all cheeky and uninhibited and doesn’t care if he falls into the vulgar. And he demands the same from you. You can't escape him.

-In my pussy. - you whisper, and he hums in appreciation, his voice rumbles against his chest.

-Atta girl.

He pushes his finger inside you, filling you to the brim. You gasp, tilting your head back, feeling the metal of his ring against your labia, waiting for him to start moving. And when he does, you let a low moan. You instinctively pull your right leg out of the water so that your calf rests on the edge of the tub to be spread for him and give him more access, water dripping onto the floor from your foot.

-Yeah, just like that. Open wide, baby. - Billy whispers, and almost pulls out his finger to add another one, tearing a high-pitched groan from you.

You lift your head from his chest, watching in rapture as his big fingers move in and out of you in the water, the heel of his hand against your pubis. The air in the bathroom is hot and humid, your body is on fire. A drop of sweat slides down you temple. You never want it to end, but at the same time, you feel the burning need to release.

-More. - you whisper, resting your head back against his shoulder. You move your hips to meet his movements, but as soon as you do Billy pulls out his fingers.

Your sex contracts around nothing. You feel frustration rising in you and you’re about to say something but Billy wraps his hand around your throat.

-What did I say? - he murmurs, his lips against your skin.

His voice is a warning in itself. If you move, he gives you nothing.

-Sorry. It just feels so good. Please, Billy.

You turn your head meeting his blue eyes, begging him with your gaze. You press your lips against his for good measure. Billy grunts, his tongue finding yours as he lightly tightens his hand around your throat. The pleasure and slight adrenaline of the gesture mingle, causing a shiver to run down your spine. His eyes lock into yours as he slowly pushes his three fingers inside you. Your eyes flutter as he fills you again. You feel him increase his pace and you no longer contain the sounds that leave your mouth, your breath mixing with his. Then he curls his fingers and hits the spongy skin inside you, and something uncomfortable mixed with something beyond pleasure makes you close your eyes. Your leg begins to ache from its position against the edge of the tub, but you can't bring yourself to care, desperate as you are for the release. Your hips though, start to move on their own again, meeting his fingers urgently.

-God, yes ... ah ...

And just like that, he pulls out his fingers again.

You turn to look at him, frowning in dismay. Billy shakes his head, his hand slowly rubbing your swollen sex. -You're not listening.

-I’ll listen! I promise. I won't move. Just, please... - you moan, straining not to move against his teasing hand.

His fingers linger on your swollen labia. -What a brat. - then he roughly pushes his fingers inside you, without warning.

You cry out against his mouth and he silences you with his lips. His tongue follows the movement of his fingers and you almost roll your eyes at how erotic and overwhelming all of this is.

-Can you stay put baby? Want me to make you cum? Huh? - he asks, curling his fingers inside you.

You answer with a noncommittal sound, your toes curling every time his fingers apply pressure against that patch of skin. You feel yourself reaching the end quickly, feeling like you’re sliding down towards the edge of a ravine with alarming speed.

Billy tightens his grip around your throat, forcing you to open your eyes. He looks at you under his long dark lashes with a certain hunger. -Want you to watch me when I make this pussy come.

-Huh huh. – you nod eagerly, your nose brushing against his. -Please, yes.

Your legs start shaking as he keeps hitting that sweet spot, the familiar warmth in your belly starts spreading until you can't take it anymore and you cry out, contracting violently around his fingers, your flesh pulsing rhythmically, your eyes nearly crossing from the intense and long pleasure, so good it almost hurts.

-Yeah, such a good girl. - he whispers, his fingers moving gently inside you as you ride out your orgasm. Your legs give out as you loll your head to the side against his chin, your eyes fluttering shut, feeling utterly spent. Billy kisses your forehead, his hand now gentle around your throat, his thumb caressing your jaw.  -You did so well for me.

You just let out a sigh, feeling lulled by the warmth of his body and the smell of his cologne surrounding you, feeling at home.

[yeyinde]

Question about Straw House, Straw Dog Johnny! OK so he obviously has some brain trauma due to taking a bullet to the head and all, and we can see him shifting between thoughts and emotions in a way one can describe as volatile, but I've been dying to know... Does Johnny have moments of clarity, moments where who he was before being shot break through? If so, how lucid is he? Is he able to take stock of his surroundings, does he know he's got a captive in his bed? Does he wonder about his team mates, until his mind splinters and he returns to being a shell of a man in the woods?

sorry this took me so long to answer!! it got super long so i had to find ways to cut it down, but since i couldn't write this in Johnny's pov, i rambled. a lot.

but—to answer your question: yes and no lmao

i don't think he's fully gone. definitely delusional, grasping at nothing, and struggling to adjust to this civilian world where no one needs him. not even his teammates.

but he's cognisant, and in many ways, he's still Johnny. still Soap. but he is a victim of circumstances. he has untreated TBI (which outside of physical recovery does need therapy as well, especially to offset the emotional trauma that underlines it all), and he decided to pick one of the loneliest places in Canada to hide out in. maybe not the loneliest, but there's definitely a sense of disconnect when you move outside of the big cluster of cities near the border to the US, and nowhere else captures that primordial, almost cosmic sense of crushing aloneness quite like NWT (for me, at least lmao)

it's the social isolation, the feeling of worthlessness (because i do see him as someone who'd never retire from this, ever), and the loss of agency and familiarity that really send him spiralling. he's grasping at straws and sinking deeper into his terrible mental state. listless, in a way. and very, very angry. everything was ripped away from him in seconds and now he's stuck inside a cabin with nothing but his thoughts for company. and while we don't really know how he came to be squirreled away in NWT (specifically a patch of unorganised land outside of Wrigley), we know that it was not choice.

he still thinks of his teammates, remembers (vividly) everything that happened, but had no choice but to leave. there's a lot of resentment, though. he feels robbed. broken. useless. feels like he should be there with them when they hunt down Makarov, rather than sidelined like he has been. it festers. builds.

but then you come along.

a task, a mission. someone he can save. and even if he were fully cognisant, woke up perfectly fine one day, he'd still find ways to rationalise it. he does not, nor will he ever, see you as a captive. he did you a favour. he saved you. by any means necessary. even if those means are morally reprehensible and outright illegal. Soap is patting himself on the back for doing what needed to be done, and nothing anyone says will change his mind.

and if he was ever caught, he'll pretend to feel some sense of remorse for his actions. let people lead the discussion of how tragic what happened is and how truly sorry he is for the pain caused, but the entire time, he's plotting on how to get his family back. you're his. he found you. he'll never feel guilt over what he sees as a good deed. but i think he can be convinced to feel remorse over sneaking into your bed.

[stevesbestgirl]

Phases of the Moon - Part 1

Steven Grant x f!Reader, eventual Marc Spector x f!Reader

2796 words

Warnings: poor imitations of British speaking habits, not much else in part one, maybe a few curses but I’m not sure

A/N: This was my attempt to write a slow-burn. It’s long, self-indulgent, and obscenely fluffy. Reader is specified as American, but mostly so I can avoid pretending I know anything about living in the UK. Steven and Marc are aware of each other and trying to find balance in their relationship in this fic, but keep in mind that I am not a system and am not an expert. All of my information about their relationship comes from the Moon Knight show and I use that as my reference point. 

*Bold type is spoken by Marc when Steven is fronting.*

Masterlist

“Go talk to her.”

“Well I can’t, can I?” Steven sent a furtive glance at you, toying absently with your phone while you examined the glyphs inside a display.

“Why can’t you?”

“She’s got earphones in.”

Marc scoffed in the glass of one of the display cases, “Always an excuse.”

“I can’t just interrupt her, that’d be rude!”

“Not if she’s interested.”

Steven’s reply was cut short as a pair of boys came rushing around the corner, laughing and shoving each other- Steven wouldn’t have placed them at older than twelve. He watched helplessly as one firm push sent the smaller of the two reeling into your backside. Completely oblivious to their noise, you went sprawling, headphones disconnecting as your phone hit the ground and was sent skittering across the polished floor, coming to rest at Steven’s feet.

Inhibitions gone, Steven scooped your phone up and rushed over, offering a hand to help you up, “Are you okay?” You nodded, feeling a little embarrassed. “You lot,” he called out, locating the pair sidling off behind a diorama, “C’mere.” 

They looked like they were considering bolting, but the smaller of them located Steven’s badge and took a reluctant step forward. By the time they stood in front of you, they were looking rather cowed, like puppies who’d been caught gnawing a slipper. 

“Shape up, you hear? You could’ve really hurt someone.”

“Sorry.”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“Now listen, down that corridor there, there’s a bunch of old weapons; spears, cudgels, daggers, the like. How about you go give it a look?” You watched him speak to the two boys; his enthusiasm seemed very genuine, not the fake kind adults often used with children.

The taller boy hesitated before leaving, “What’s a cudgel?”

Steven smiled a little, “Why don’t you go on and find out?” Then the two rushed in the direction he’d indicated and he called after them, “Slowly, hm?”

Once they were out of sight, you finally spoke, “Are you sure that was a good idea? Sending them in there with a bunch of weapons?” You couldn’t help but smile as he unconsciously smoothed his dark, nearly sleep-tousled curls back from his face.

His intent had been to chuckle, but it came out as more of an empty puff of air, “They’re all under glass- should be alright.” He added, “Maybe I’ll pop in to check on them, just in case.” Nervous now, he looked down at his hands, still holding your phone, “Oh, there you are.” Your expression fell and only then did he notice the spiderweb of cracks in the bottom corner where it had hit the floor, “Oh no.”

You shook your head, accepting the phone and dropping it to your side, like putting it out of sight would make him forget, “It’s alright. Just a screen protector. I’ll get a new one eventually.”

“Sorry about that, love,” he insisted, his earnest gaze finally meeting yours just in time for your face to go warm. You’d thought you’d been ready to hear the term of endearment used so casually when you came to England, but apparently not.

“It’s alright,” you rushed to speak. “Definitely not your fault. Thanks for helping me-” you glanced at his name tag, “-Steven.”

“No problem- it is my job after all,” he cracked a halfhearted smile.

“You were great with those kids too.”

Rosy warmth tinged his cheeks and his gaze shifted away, “Thanks.” A small pause, “Your accent- you’re American?”

You nodded, ���Needed a change of scenery, so I’m staying with some family for a while. Just got in yesterday, actually.”

His gaze eagerly lifted to yours again, but flicked away over your shoulder and he went slightly pale. Glancing back, you saw a stocky woman with dirty blonde hair gesturing impatiently at him.

Returning his gaze to you, he looked a bit panicked, “I’m sorry, I’ve gotta go. I- ah-” He tripped over his words and almost tripped almost his feet as well, veering around you and backing away toward the woman beckoning him over. 

You raised your hand in an uncertain farewell as he stammered his way backwards, gesturing faintly over his shoulder with his thumb in a faint attempt at an explanation. Once he was within range, the woman seemed to be lighting into him a bit, though his gaze hadn’t yet left you. It wasn’t until she snapped her fingers that he looked at her. 

Not wanting to spy, you turned away, checking your phone for the time. When Steven glanced your way again, he only caught your retreating form disappearing out the entrance. For once, Donna’s criticisms didn’t affect him since he was already kicking himself for not asking you out. Or getting your phone number. Or even your name. He’d blown it. 

*

The following day, you had a bit more time to explore the museum, so you returned. And you noted with dismay, when the cabbie called you “love”, you didn’t so much as blink, let alone blush. Maybe it had been a one-off thing. Now you would be immune. 

Walking in and spotting the woman from before at the front desk, you plucked up a bit of courage and approached. Her name tag read “Donna” and she prompted with visible disinterest, as though she were reading off a script, “Welcome. Is there something I can direct you to?”

Deciding to push forward, you said, “Actually, I was just in here yesterday. I ran into a bit of trouble with a couple of young boys and one of your tour guides helped me. I wanted to let you know that Steven was very polite and just lovely with those kids-”

“Stevie? He isn’t a tour guide,” Donna interrupted, wrinkling her nose. “In his dreams, maybe.”

“But he does work here?”

“Yeah, he’s the gift shoppist.” She was still being very flippant; it was clear that she’d barely had interest in this conversation to begin with and now that it was about Steven, it had dwindled to none. 

“Right. Thank you.” You forced a smile and nodded before heading off in the direction of the gift shop.

The counter was empty when you first walked into the room, sending a tiny shoot of disappointment into your chest. You wanted to thank him, since it didn’t appear that you could score him any points with his boss.

You wondered for a moment if you should come back later, but then a shaggy, brown mop of hair sprung up from behind the counter, triumphantly brandishing what appeared to be a large, amber-colored marble with a bone inside it, “Got ya, you little bugger.”

His gaze fell on you and he tucked the marble behind his back, like it was something to hide, “You- you came back.”

You reached into your bag, pulling out the brochure you’d picked up yesterday, “I was only passing through yesterday.” You unfolded the brochure and showed him the notes you’d taken on the map, detailing where you wanted to go first and which exhibits had caught your eye, “I like to plan a little bit.”

He followed the line you traced with your finger intently, raising his gaze to your face when you pulled away, “That’s a good way to go about it. The tour is pretty good too.” Steven’s heart skipped as your lips pulled into a slight frown; had he said something wrong? 

“Speaking of the tour, I tried to put in a good word for you with your boss- as thanks, for yesterday- she doesn’t seem to like you very much.”

“Oh, yes. Donna and I have got a bit of a rocky history.” He added quickly, “Not a history, mind you. More like a boss/employee history. I’ve got a bit of a bad track record with my punctuality, actually,” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Well, I think you’d make a lovely tour guide, for what it’s worth.”  

There was another one of those long pauses; you were about to offer a meek “Thanks again,” and cut your losses when he spoke up, “If you like, I’m on a break in ten minutes. I could show you around.”

You’d insisted to yourself that this wasn’t why you came back here, but you found yourself nodding, a faint smile on your lips, “I’d like that.”

Steven seemed even more surprised than you were, nodding quickly, “Great- that’s- great.” He nodded again, “I can meet you in the ‘King’s Tomb’ exhibit.” He pointed, “Right over there-” He checked his watch, “-in nine minutes.”

Your smile widened, “See you in nine minutes then.” You moved off in the direction he’d indicated, the temptation to look back gnawing at you. 

“Wait!” he called after you. You turned back, “I haven’t got your name.”

“You haven’t needed it, have you?” 

Now you were teasing and you knew it. But you could feel his eyes on you as you disappeared around the corner and you smiled to yourself. So much for doing your own thing. The whole reason for coming to London was to get away from men- although you supposed it was more one man than men in general. But something about Steven just caught your eye.

So you waited out the impossibly long eight minutes remaining until Steven walked in, looking in a bit of a rush. You watched him scan the exhibit, almost like he’d expected you to have left by now.

You raised a hand, “Steven.” He positively lit up at the sight of you, relief visible in the heavy exhale he released- like he'd been holding his breath. 

You met him in the center of the room, clasping your hands behind your back in anticipation. Steven still had the remnants of a grin on his face, though he mirrored your posture, a bit of enthusiasm escaping as he bounced on the balls of his feet, just once, “What do you want to see?”

“You’re my tour guide, you tell me,” you teased. 

Almost instantly, his face flushed, “Well, I wasn’t sure if there were specific displays you wanted to look at or certain subjects you were interested in, you know? Since I've only got fifteen minutes on my break.” 

“Well, I’m interested in everything, but since we only have fifteen minutes; how about you show me the way you’d start your tour if you were a guide?” His cheeks darkened further and you had to bite the inside of your cheek not to smile again. But he surprised you, recovering quickly and placing his hand on your arm. He steered you over to one of the displays and you glanced at him, “The Ennead?”

The Ennead,” he corrected your pronunciation. “The Egyptian Gods.” He wheeled around so his back was to the exhibit, his gaze meeting yours with ease. “Everything about Egypt comes back to the gods one way or another, so to understand Egypt, you have to understand them.”

He walked you through the exhibit, one god or goddess at a time, his hands moving animatedly as he talked. And he was good at it, in a different way than you’d expect. He had such a wealth of knowledge- you felt comfortable asking questions because you expected him to have the answers. And he answered many of your questions before you could even ask them; his explanations were pretty comprehensive. 

It was all strangely charming, actually. His enthusiasm was so genuine, it was as though he invited you inside it with him. It was a nice place to be- like sharing a secret. It was also putting you in dangerous territory; a magnetic field that would be hard to pull yourself from.

Once you were about halfway through the eleven, you tentatively raised your hand. Steven faltered slightly, giving you the chance to speak up, “Two things- I just want to check the time, I’d hate for you to be-”

“Late-” he checked his watch faster than you could pull out your phone.

You grabbed his hand, pulling him back toward the gift shop, “Well, come on then, I don’t want you getting into trouble!”

Steven’s long strides quickly outpaced you; you had to hurry to keep up, a laugh at the ridiculousness of it slipping out. Steven glanced back- nearly shouldering a display case. Right before impact, his back straightened a bit, like he sensed it coming, and he just twisted out of the way. It was so smooth you wouldn’t have noticed the deft movement if you hadn’t been anticipating the collision.

By the time you skidded to a halt in front of the gift shop counter, you were full-on giggling; you couldn’t remember the last time you’d laughed so hard over almost nothing. “Sorry about that,” Steven offered meekly.

You took a breath and collected yourself a bit, though you still felt the warmth of the laughter in your cheeks, “Don’t be- it was fun.”

“What was the other thing?” he asked, shuffling back behind the counter.

“Hm?”

“You said there were two things, the time and what else?”

“Oh! Well that exhibit was called the ‘King’s Tomb,’ right? Why are the gods in that one?”

He leaned on the counter, some of his timid demeanor vanishing, “Well, the pharaohs were considered to be gods by their people. So they put them in a room together. And since the mummies are what brings in the crowds, they get the-” he clicked his tongue, framing a little marquee with his fingers, “-title spot.”

“I suppose you know quite a lot about those too?”

He gave a chagrined smile, “Did I go on a bit much then?”

You shook your head, “Not at all- I wasn’t teasing. I wish we’d had time to do the whole exhibit.”

“I’d wager with me giving it, that tour would take all week,” he joked, feeling like he’d done too much talking during your time together.

You shrugged, “I’m on vacation.” Smiling, you added, “Or holiday, you’d probably call it.”

He smiled weakly at the joke, seeming to be working out what you’d meant. He scanned your face, as though nervous he was misreading you, but you just smiled at him. “I’m scheduled again on Thursday, I could- if you like, I mean- I could show you some more. Of the exhibit. Obviously. If you want.” 

You were here for freedom. You’d come all the way to another country so you could do what you wanted, when you wanted, no strings attached. But, you reasoned, this wasn’t dating. This was an exclusive tour, on Steven’s break. It wasn’t like he was taking you out to dinner.

You were bargaining; whittling away your rules to nothing because they no longer suited your purposes. You knew that. And you also knew that you only did so because Steven was, very clearly, a large string. A large string with lovely, brown, puppy eyes and enough passion for Egypt to make a pharaoh blush. But you nodded anyway, “I’d love to come back. Same time?”

He seemed stunned by your acceptance, but he nodded rapidly to overcompensate for the moment of hesitation, “Yeah. My break is at three.”

You smirked, “How many minutes from now?”

He stared at you for a moment- you almost wondered if he was trying to do the math, but then he flushed and gave a weak chuckle, “Right, I’ll work on that one.”

You pulled out the brochure you’d picked up yesterday and a pen from your bag, “Since I won’t be needing this anymore-” You scribbled down your name and number and slid the brochure across the table, “Text me when you figure it out.” No strings, you reminded yourself.

He gave another hurried nod, “Okay, I will, I-” 

You got a sense of deja vu as Steven glanced over your shoulder and paled in nearly the exact same way he had yesterday. “Is it Donna?” You quickly scanned the counter, grabbing a stuffed hippopotamus, “Because I’d like to purchase this.” You deliberately moved it across the counter where Donna would be able to see and pulled out your wallet.

Now Steven looked back to you, “You don’t have to do that. Most of this stuff if junk-”

“I want to. This one is kind of cute.” You held out the money, “And you’ll tell me all about it next time?”

He nodded, a small smile returning to his face, “Yeah, I will.” He handed back your change and the plush, speaking up so Donna could hear, “Enjoy the rest of your afternoon.”

You smiled, “Same to you.”

You left the other way so Donna wouldn’t see your face, hoping she wasn’t descending on Steven for being late from his break. You held the little hippo plushie to your chest and thought ahead to Thursday.

[lon3rlife]

Panic attack

Rick Sanchez x Reader

My anxiety has really been kicking my ass lately. I’m going to try write this attempting to display how a panic attack feels to the best of my ability. Enjoy <3333

“Oh mann this is going to be the craziest party ever! I-I’m gonna get so fucking wasted-oh shitt this is going to be great. We’re going to party all god damn night.” Rick says rambling on about the crazy alien party you guys are going to. Rick has been talking about it for weeks saying that it’s pretty much a party that happens once a year on another planet where the whole planet parties and it’s supposed to be a lot of fun.

“Mhm yeah.” You say trying to sound as enthusiastic as possible.

Walking the streets of a whole different planet is usually not too triggering for your anxiety since you and Rick have been going on adventures together for quite some time, but tonight feels different. Your heart rate is speeding up and your thoughts are racing, but you try your best to try to stay present in the moment instead of ruminating on your bodily sensations.

You guys arrive at the party and you try to have some fun and relax a bit. You cling by Rick, who is having a wonderful time drinking and attempting to show off some of his “dance moves.” Maybe this time you were able to control your anxiety, maybe you can enjoy yourself for once.

“Shitt I need another drink, wanna go hit up the bar again?” Rick slurs out

As you guys are waiting for drinks at the bar things become way to much out of nowhere. Your heart rate picks up faster than before, your lungs feeling like they’re lacking oxygen causing you to hyperventilate trying to catch your breath, you feel so disconnected from your surroundings you don’t even know how you got here.

“Rick I need to get out of here now.” You say tugging on his lab coat

“Shitt this drink is as big as my head oh damnn, you should’ve gotten one this is fucking crazy.” Rick says still leaned over the bar counter not turning to notice your distress.

The world is slipping away. You have no clue what to do, it’s too late to attempt to take some deep breaths and calm down. You can’t even get a normal breath in.

“Rick seriously we need to go.” You say more urgently as tug on his lab coat again.

He finally turns around and sees you on the verge of tears, gasping for air.

“Rick I actually think I’m dying.” You choke out through shaky breaths

“Sweetheart I see people die daily I promise you you’re not dying.” He says with genuine concern. “Follow me.” He says leaving his drink at the counter.

You try following him out of the bar. The world is moving so fast yet so slow. You don’t know where you are, your legs feel like they’re about to give out from your shaking, and you’re leaning on any wall you can find to try to catch your breath.

“Let’s go home.” He finally says once he finds a quiet place to actually be able to hear each other talk.

“No you’re having fun I can’t ruin this for you, just portal me home and I’ll be fine. Go party I’ll be fine at home I promise.” You say, breath still shaking. You at least feel a little less overwhelmed being away from the music.

“This is more important, let’s get you home and we can watch a movie or something to get you to relax. I can party any time I want. And right now I want to make sure you’re okay.” He says with his arm wrapped around you keeping you close as he fumbles around in his coat pockets to get his portal gun.

You guys walk through the portal into his garage. The second you walk in you feel a weight get lifted off your chest. The familiarity of the place puts you at ease.

“Everyone’s asleep we can relax on the couch if you want.”

“That sounds nice.” You say as he softly holds your hand and guides you to the couch.

On the couch you lay on his chest as he softly runs his fingers through your hair.

“I’m sorry I made you have to leave.” You apologize still feeling guilty.

“Baby don’t be sorry. It’s not your fault at all, even though you had this panic attack you were still able to notice your symptoms and that’s a start. I’m so proud of you, and just know if you ever feel anxious please let me know and don’t feel bad about it.”

You’ve never seen him be so soft and genuine before. As he talks to you, you feel your eyes get heavy and due to the adrenaline rush of the panic attack you get tired enough to fall asleep.

You wake up the next morning on the couch with Rick’s arms wrapped around you sleeping peacefully, with his face nuzzled into your hair. You feel much more at ease and calm and feel so lucky to have Rick there to support you during your scariest moments. <3

[sparklypinkflightsuit]

Stars Align: Part 3

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

Warnings: Alcohol Misuse, Drinking, Angst, Eventual Smut, Fluff and a lot of it, Mentions of Abuse, Sexual References, Violence, Anger, Pining, I think that's it?

-- Part 2 Here --

_____________________________

18+ Only

_____________________________

Present:

You went back inside to let Gabby know you were going to grab a drink with Bradley, and to ask if she wanted you to walk her to a cab.

Bradley followed you to the dance floor.

“Rooster!” A voice rang out from the crowd, and a tall blond man emerged.

“Hangman.” Bradley responded, “I’m gonna shoot off, can you let Mickey know?”

The blond man raised his eyebrow, “Find yourself a little lady?” He looked over Bradley’s shoulder at you as you waited patiently.

“She’s my old best friend, haven’t seen her in years so we’re going somewhere quiet to catch up.” Bradley explained.

“Right, sure.” The blond winked. “Don’t be late tomorrow, Mickey will kill you.” And he turned around to leave.

Bradley faced you with a grimace, “Sorry about him, Jake’s a piece of work.”

“I’m more interested in the part where he called you Rooster. You kept the nickname?” You chuckled.

“Call sign.” Bradley corrected you with a grin.

“Wait… do you mean-“ you were cut off by Gabby barging into you.

“Whoops! Sorry. Are we leaving? I think I’ve had enough for one night.” She breathed, bunching her hair up off of her sweaty neck.

“Actually, yeah Bradley and I are gonna grab a drink and catch up. Can we walk you to a cab?” You asked, wrapping your arm around her waist to steer her towards the exit.

“Much obliged.” She saluted you and you chuckled.

Once Gabby was safely in a cab and on her way home, you turned to smile at Bradley.

“Where to?” You asked.

“I know a place.” He held out his hand and you took it, walking next to him as he gently steered you through the crowds. His hand felt remarkably strong yet so gentle at the same time, like he was gently cupping something he was terrified to break.

“So… call sign huh? That mean you got into the Navy?”

“Yes ma’am. I couldn’t wait to tell you about it… but you changed your number.” He bit the inside of his cheek as he looked at you cautiously.

“Oh… I didn’t.” You looked to the ground awkwardly.

Bradley glanced at you, confused, your number had been disconnected when he’d tried to call you years ago and had been ever since.

You bit your lip, “But that’s a long story, not sure we’ll have time for it tonight. I am sorry I wasn’t there for you when you got to experience that, though.” You felt horrible for missing such a milestone in his life.

Bradley smiled down at you, “I get to share it with you now, don’t I?” He nudged you until you grinned, and then let go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder instead.

“Can’t believe I bumped into you, here of all places.” He mumbled absentmindedly as he walked.

“Yeah that’s fate I guess, Rooster.” You joked, referencing something from your past you always used to tease him about. He’s shot you a playful glare and you chuckled.

He suddenly stopped, “Here we are. I passed this place earlier and weirdly enough, it made me think of you.”

You looked up at the sign and scrunched up your nose, “A Cat Cafe?”

“No.” Bradley laughed, and moved you over to the left slightly, pointing at the sign next to it.

“Oh! An art bar, that’s better Bradshaw, for a moment there I thought you forgot that I’m a dog person.” You chuckled as you walked inside.

Bradley sat you down at a cozy corner booth, and squeezed in next to you as you scanned the menu for their cocktail list and some nibbles.

Your heart began to race as you felt his strong arm rest behind you on the seat as he read the menu over your shoulder. His breath was minty as it wafted over you.

“You think they’ll be serving any food still? It is 2am.” You said looking over at the other tables to distract yourself from your sudden emotional overtake, some of which had food on them, and your stomach growled.

“I’ll go ask, what drink do you want?” Bradley asked as he stood up, his hands propping himself up over you on the table, and you had to fight with all your might not to ogle at the size of his arms and the veins that protruded from his thick neck.

You gulped, “Sex on the beach, please.”

Bradley winked at you, “Whatever you want, Birdy.” And with a cheeky grin, he left to the bar to order.

He left you flushed and breathless, your rapid heartbeat doing little to distract from the sudden growing tension in between your thighs. You gasped to yourself as you realised your feelings were somehow still there.

Sure it didn’t help that Bradley was now a man, like really a man, or that his confidence was bordering on cockiness, but the real Bradley, or the old Bradley you should say, was still there underneath, and glimpses of him kept trickling through, reminding you of why you fell for him in the first place.

You were lost in thought when Bradley got back, jumping as he placed a plate of fries and your drinks on the table. He pulled a small canvas and a mini easel out from under his arm and positioned it on the table, with small tubs of primary colour paints. He pulled out two tiny paintbrushes from his pocket and handed you one as he eyed you up.

“Sorry.” He chuckled, “Care to tell me where you just travelled to… up there.” He gestured to your head and you rolled your eyes.

“Trust me you don’t want to know what goes on up there.”

“Probably for the best, bet it’s all lady stuff.” he said sitting down next to you.

“Ew, only you could make those two words sound gross, Brad.” You flinched.

Bradley chuckled, and you spent the rest of the evening catching up on all the things missed while you were apart, while picking at the fries and painting random squiggles on your canvas every now and then. You purposely left out the section of your life involving Jacob, as that was a story for another time, far too dark for a catch up date.

You learnt that Carole had passed away, and you were suddenly on the verge of tears. You felt so guilty that you never got to say goodbye, and that you weren’t there for Bradley when he needed you most.

“I’m so sorry, I should have been there for you.” You whispered, biting your cheek to stop the tears from falling.

“Hey, it’s okay. How were you supposed to know? She knew you loved her, I told her so many times towards the end.” He reassured you, but even as he did, his voice broke and you could see him swallowing down the lump in his own throat.

You were both sufficiently drunk at this point, Bradley more so, and your conversation had turned deep and emotional. You sat with your legs draped over Bradley’s thighs, while he played absentmindedly with your knees, a habit he’d picked up years ago, a coping mechanism of sorts to distract him from any issues at hand.

The first time he’d done this, you’d been at home watching a scary movie in the living room, and about halfway through Bradley had picked up your legs and put them on his lap. “You have really wobbly knee caps.” He’d commented, distracting himself from the gory scene ahead.

You’d looked at him, confused at the time, but it had come to be a comforting position for the both of you.

“What did you mean, earlier, when you said you didn’t change your number?” Bradley asked suddenly, clearing his throat of the lump.

You drew in a sharp breath, looking down at your hands. “It’s a long story Brad, another time?” You asked.

Bradley nodded, squeezing your calf.

“Should we make a move? Think the suns about to come up and you’ve got a wedding to attend.” You grinned.

“Yup, probably a good idea.” Bradley slurred, and you swung your legs off of him. He stood and immediately swayed, shooting a hand out to steady himself on the table.

“Woah, one too many whiskey sours, me thinks.” He chuckled. You got up and slotted yourself under his arm to steady him.

“Guess so. Let’s get you back to your hotel. Where are you staying?”

Bradley thought for a moment, and then looked down at you confused, “I can’t remember.” He snatched up the canvas and wedged it underneath his other arm.

You groaned. “Can you text that guy you were with earlier? Or do you have a keycard?”

Bradley pouted and shook his head, “Hangman and I are sharing a room, he has the keycard and he’ll be asleep right now. Can I crash at yours? Like old times?” He grinned his boyish grin and fluttered his pretty eyelashes, until you sighed and steered him towards the street.

“Yeah, okay, but a fair warning, I’m living out of boxes right now.”

“I thought you said you lived in an apartment, not in a box?” He slurred again, swaying on the spot as you stood and waited for a cab.

You laughed at his poor attempt at a joke, and patted him on the back. “You’re gonna feel awful tomorrow.”

“I know.” He grinned down at you, but his eyes were so sincere and gentle it made you want to kiss him.

A cab pulled up and you shuffled inside after Bradley. You told the driver your address and sat back.

Bradley was asleep on your shoulder within 2 minutes, and not long after you pulled up outside your building. You paid and thanked the cab driver and shook Bradley awake.

“Hmm?” He mumbled as he came to.

“We’re here.” You said gently, stroking his face to rouse him.

Bradley moaned at the touch and you found yourself having to clench your thighs, the sound vibrated through your entire body.

You managed to get Bradley to follow you, although wobbly, up the 5 flights of stairs, but you cursed the elevator being broken as it was like trying to coax a stubborn child.

Eventually you stumbled through the door and kicked your heels off.

“Home sweet home!” You sighed, eyeing up the mountain of boxes.

“It’s nice, bit crowded but it’ll get there.” Bradley slurred, walking into the kitchen and looking through your fridge. He pulled out a bottle of beer and was about to open it when you charged at him.

“What are you- ouch, what the fuck, Birdy?“

You collided with Bradley and wrangled the beer from his hand.

“Absolutely not!” You held the beer out of reach.

Bradley grinned and tried to swipe for it.

“No! It’s… 5:23am!” You groaned, checking the time on your phone. “You need to sleep or you’ll never make the wedding.”

“I’ll be fine! I don’t wanna sleep yet, we’ve got way too much catching up to do still.” He reached for the beer but you turned your back to him and held it as far out in front of you as you could.

Suddenly two strong arms were wrapping around your midriff and lifting you into the air. You squealed and tried to struggle, but a fit of laughter overtook you, zapping away any strength you held. Bradley smiled at you over your shoulder as he watched you lose yourself like you had when you were teenagers, and a wave of emotion and nostalgia overtook him. He put you down suddenly and turned you around.

Your laughing slowed and you looked up at Bradley, who’s eyes were brimming now.

''Brad are you okay?'' You were suddenly concerned at the sudden change in atmosphere.

Bradley pulled you in for a bear hug, and this time he just held you for a long time.

You rubbed his back soothingly, his fingers now thread in your hair as he held your head in place against his broad chest, his heart racing.

“I’ve really missed you, kid.” He said through a shaky voice.

“I’ve missed you too, Rooster.”

———————————————

Past:

You walked home with your heels in one hand and the other shielding your eyes as the rain poured down onto you. You were sure it rained so heavily that night because of how heartbroken you felt, and that Mother Nature just wanted to mask your tears with her own.

You burst through your front door and went straight upstairs, dumping your soggy shoes and purse by the door. Your parents turned from the movie they were watching in the living room in surprise.

“Jeez, when I said be home by 11, I meant more like 11:30, not 8:40.” You dad commented.

You slammed your bedroom door.

He looked at your mom who just shrugged. Your dad followed you upstairs, your mom hot on his tail.

“Honey, what happened?” He asked, pushing your door open gently.

“Nothing. I just want to go to bed.” You sniffed, undoing your braid to allow your wet hair to dry.

“Where’s Bradley?” Your mom asked.

“I don’t know and I don’t care.”

You tried to hard sleep that night, but sleep didn’t find you easily. You kept going over the night in your head, trying to figure out where it all went wrong.

Eventually you stopped crying and your sadness turned to anger. You hadn’t even wanted to go in the first place, Bradley had begged you to go, and now you were furious he had.

It was close to midnight when your door creaked open and a sliver of light filtered in.

“Birdy.” Bradley whispered.

Your head shot up off of your tear stained pillow, and you glared at him for a second. “Who let you in?” You demanded.

“Your dad. But not before he gave me a talking to.” He admitted sheepishly. You slammed your head back down on the pillow.

“Birdy I’m so sorry.” He walked in and gently closed the door. “I shouldn’t have doubted you, I’m not really sure what came over me.”

You said nothing, smushing your face further into your pillow to avoid even seeing your best friends face. You were so mad.

You felt the bed dip behind you as Bradley lay down.

“Lil bird, please look at me.”

“I can’t right now.” You huffed.

“Okay, I get that. But at least let me apologise.”

“Don’t bother. You left me there Bradley, after you begged me to go with you, I don’t think apologising is gonna fix this one.” You said as you propped yourself up on your elbows and glared at him.

Bradley suddenly felt the immense guilt of what he had done when he saw how puffy your eyes were from crying.

“I know, I shouldn’t have. I came right back, once I’d calmed down and realised I was being a total idiot, but you were gone already. Sophie’s friend Kate said she overheard Michelle talking to her friends. I know you didn’t do or say anything, I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

“You’ve known me for years, Bradley. The fact that it took someone else telling you I wasn’t lying to believe me is a real gut punch.”

“I know, I’m a dick. It’ll never happen again. From now on if you say something, I’ll take your word. I swear.” He stuck out his pinky.

You stared at it and then at him for a moment. He seemed genuinely sorry, and you had missed him in the few hours since you’d last seen him, so you nodded and hooked your pinky in his.

“Fine. But I’m still mad at you.”

Bradley grinned, ruffling your already frizzy hair. You groaned and lay back down.

“Can I sleep over?” He asked, propping his head in his hand as he turned on his side to look at you.

“Only if you stop calling it a sleep over. We’re not kids anymore.” You huffed.

“Okay… can I stay the night?” He asked in a deep voice and wiggled his eyebrows playfully.

“That’s better. You can wear my princess pyjamas.” You joked, finally cracking a smile.

Bradley rolled his eyes, sitting up and peeling off his dress-shirt. “If we’re not kids anymore, I don’t need pyjamas.” He lay back down in just his pants, and you blushed.

You wondered at times like these if he knew how you felt about him, and just enjoyed teasing you.

———————————

Present:

The sun filtered in through your curtain-less windows and you groaned. Your hangover hit you as soon as you peeled your eyes open, and you pulled your duvet over your head.

You breathed through the rolling nausea, and squeezed your eyes shut to stop the feeling of the world spinning a little too fast. Suddenly you heard a loud thump outside the room followed by a deep voice mumbling “shit”.

You’d forgotten all about Bradley. You shot up suddenly as the night before came into memory.

You could hear Bradley groan in the living room, as he shuffled around trying to get dressed.

You walked to the living room and watched as Bradley searched frantically for his shirt.

His toned body looked unfairly delicious in the morning light. You bit your lip as you watched.

Bradley noticed you finally, and relief washed over his face. “Oh Birdy, thank god. I can’t find my shirt and I’m so late for the wedding.” He walked over to you and grabbed your hands, pulling you into the living room. “I can’t remember the end of last night.”

“Well, that’ll be the last beer you had.” You raised your eyebrow at him. “Okay let me think.” You pressed your fingers into your temples as you walked around the apartment.

“Okay… so we had a little moment in the kitchen-“ you pointed to where you stood hugging Bradley for what felt like forever.

“Oh did we?” Bradley jiggled his eyebrows.

“Shut up, not like that Bradshaw.” You shot back and rolled your eyes.

You kept walking, your eyes scanning the boxes and floor space.

“And theeeen… you gave me a piggy back ride to… the bedroom?” You couldn’t recall why. You walked back to the bedroom with Bradley hot on your tail.

Bradley’s shirt lay on the floor next to your bed, and you picked it up and handed it to him.

“Thanks, Birdy.” Bradley said sincerely. He took a moment to put his shirt back on and then gave you a sad smile. “I guess I better get going. Will I see you again?”

You suddenly felt a lump in the back of your throat, and swallowed it down as best you could before you nodded.

“I hope so, Brad. I really did miss you.”

You showed Bradley out and waved him goodbye as he walked down the stairwell. As soon as he was out of sight you bit back tears and went back into the apartment. You sniffled as you unpacked your kitchen essentials, and laughed wetly as you remembered some of the events of the night before. You suddenly recalled why Bradley was in your room, he’d insisted on waiting until you fell asleep before he went to bed himself, and he sat singing 80’s and 90’s hits softly to you as he drank his beer, and as it had worked so well in the past, it still worked perfectly now.

As Bradley sang Aerosmith, your eyes fluttered shut;

“… Don't wanna close my eyes,

I don't wanna to fall asleep,

'Cause I'd miss you baby…

And I don't wanna miss a thing.”

The last thought that sank through your mind as you drifted off into a comforting slumber, was that you finally felt safe, like really safe, and you hadn’t felt that way in a very long time.

Not since you moved away.

——————————————

-- Part 4 Here --

Taglist now open 💛 Please let me know if you'd like to be added!

@dizzybee03

[eevee-d]

Hidan lore overthinking! Sorry bad english

The little information of Hidan's life completly brings Red flags all over.

OK. That one thing on the books when his whole village blamed a child Hidan for maybe killing an entire clan makes me think what kind of child they saw him as to be able to do all of that. Even if they confirmed later the Chinoike Clan killed each other, they still thought damn what if this fucking child killed them all.

This also means Hidan as a child thought to go to the place called "the Valley of Hell" where the Chinoike Clan got exiled to. Towards a clan that was dangerous af, and were also scary. The Valley of Hell was also referred as unlivable and smelling of sulfur. No one stopped him, who knows how long it takes from Yugakure to the Valley.

Then he finds the entire fucking dead, massacred by each other. Runs back to his village tells everyone and first thing they do is blame him.

By pure speculation of numbers, Hidan must've been 6 when the war ended. Which is not great. Getting raised through war probably did affect him as well. I know there's no information of Yugakure involvement in that war, but it's in the middle of the Land of fire and the Land of lightning so.

No information regarding parents so either:

Parent's whos kid left the village to a place called the Valley of Hell

No parents

No clue

Also the general idea of raising kids as soldiers and killing machines, and expecting it to be all good. To then be like: "fuck you were getting rid of the military" which how much Hidan talks about fighting like "letting steam off" (seperated to Jashin stuff) he must've liked fighting. It was an insult to him.

Also the Akatsuki have S rank Rouge Ninjas right? Was Hidan a top ninja at his village? Then we get the lack of Ninjutsu and Getsutsu. The symbol of jashin, the blood connection and immortality are never considered as anything jutsu right? These guy it's full Taijutsu and Jashin (which the fact that's never EVER explained that's crazy).

He called himself the slower attacker of the Akatsuki, but that's still crazy fast. He has a demonic momentum, even in the air moving his scythe around. He his beyond athletic too. (Go look at him skipping and spining Shikamaru's shadow).

His fighting is reckless. He throws himself in cause he knows he can't get killed and he is overconfident. But it's better being fast an eratic cause his main thing getting blood, That's why his weapon it's the way it is. He also relies a lot on his ritual and Kakuzu. He never expects people pulling him off his circle. -and when his head cut off he just relies on Kakuzu helping him out any ways.

It's said, he found Jashinism when he wanted to leave the village for demilitarizing. There is theories that Jashin isn't real nor the religion at all, and that Hidan it's immortal by chance. Like Hashirama healing factor being so good. So this mf got Immortal regen or something at birth. If he gained immortality otherwise, affecting the reality of his religion is also out there.

Hidan's approach to religion is also weird. Options: He belives a lie or he made it up and knows it's bullshiting OR it's real.

Hidan prays for LONG amounts of time (which Kakuzu complains about often) would he made up waiting for 30 minutes long just because? Or he belives in needing to pray for that long. Hidan constanly complains about "Kakuzu if this is another of your extra money missions i'm gonna be pissed! Let's just go for the Jinchuriki" I find it weird he would be 30 minutes praying in the ground if he didn't belive the HAD to do it (Disconnected to any validity to Jashisim). Hidan did try to annoy others (mainly Kkz) on porpose so much so... BUT he also referes to praying like 'a pain in the ass, but the comaments are very clear'.

Idk which is crazier: He doesn't believe it and made up shit he even complains about in his religion just to get something out of it (like a justification or martyrs) OR he fully believed in it and still was like "shit i have to pray 30 minutes for this bullshit".

ok... Important part here:

CAUSE WHY TF did Hidan get such a center persective during the Akatsuki plan exposition? (during the 2 tails extraction). He was the newest member ""besides Tobi"" and we got and explanation towards him from Pain himself (fish out the water, the character doesn't know something so they get a explanation so the audience gets it too). I think how the time frames got written sound pretty different based on other stuff but that doesn't matter. He jumps and critics the Akatsuki and Pain directly, we also get him gritting his teeth. Like damn we got introduced to an inner conflict of Hidan's believes against the akatsuki for no reason????? Right after this we also get a positive interaction with Kakuzu and Hidan. Kakuzu doesn't get mad at him for being so againts the leader, and gives him his headband instead. (which he kept tight on his arm for those 3 days of 2 tails extraction) His headband must also be unique compared to others that village no longer has ninja so getting another one can't even be a thing really.

I'm sad their arc was rushed and plenty of stuff got cut. But I understand the circuntsances: crazy schedule, Kishimoto sick, an arc centering someone other than Naruto.

Kakuzu prison and hashirama backstory was obviously there but we didn't get it. Hidan getting his backstory in extra material is also insane. I have no idea if the plan was still killing them by the end of a (longer version) of the arc or not. But maybe they would've gotten Sasori treatment. Get their backstories before they lose. They were the only ones that got cut short so much (besides Konan but she got the backstory in full flashbacks at least).

Kishimoto even had more extra funtions for Hidan's Scythe too. Constantly getting small answers about Hidan in random interviews with him also show what else there was to add to him. +Saying Hidan was his fav Akatsuki and villan too. Sad he also cut Hidan coming back in the war arc cause he had put so many characters, but he probably felt he couldn't do all he wanted to do with him- so left it there.

aka. I love Hidan's character :)

[666writingcafe]

Hallucination

Solomon

MC: Something bad's happened to Asmo. I need you to come over and help me fix it.

With the tone of their message, I was afraid that I'd walk into a room full of bodily fluids of some kind. Thankfully, that doesn't seem to be the case, but the situation is just as severe, if not a tad bit worse.

I've spent lots of time with Asmodeus, so I like to think I know his various moods and how they present themselves on him, but this...

From behind, he looks perfectly normal, sitting upright on his bed. But his eyes make it perfectly clear that he's completely disconnected from this reality. Whatever he's seeing might only be happening in his head, but it's making him rather upset.

"What happened?" I whisper to MC.

"I don't know the full story, but I found a bag of gummy bears sitting on his nightstand, and I think he ingested enough of them to start tripping." Oh dear. Devildom drugs are no joke. I've known plenty of humans that have either died or permanently lost their minds from a single micro-dose. The stuff's potent.

"Where did he get them?"

"I don't know. I gave Lucifer the bag, and he's taking it over to the castle to have Diavolo and Barbatos look into it."

Asmo suddenly stands up and rushes towards the door. MC quickly blocks him from opening it.

"And where do you think you're going?" they ask him.

"I gotta tell them the good news!" he exclaims. "We can all go back to being angels!"

Well, no wonder MC wanted me over here. At the very least, they need another set of hands to restrain Asmo from running off and causing chaos.

"Sweetie, that isn't possible." MC places a hand on his shoulder.

"But it is! I'm telling you! Raphael told me so!" MC glances over at me worryingly. "I'm not lying, Zephyr! He said that Father ordered that all is to be forgiven, and that all of our brothers and sisters wish for us to return!"

"Asmo--"

"Our wings should be white!" MC sighs.

"Look, even if Raphael wanted you guys back, I seriously doubt your Father would forgive you all for what you did."

"Zephyr's right, Asmo." Oh shit. How long has Lucifer been on the other side of the door? MC steps away from the door, allowing him to enter the room.

"I rebelled against Father in a way that is unforgivable," Lucifer continues. "By falling with me, you've told Him that you agree with my actions. He's not going to let us return." This causes Asmo to burst out sobbing.

"Why would you say something like that?!" he yells. Before any of us can reply, Asmo adds,

"Oh right: you're just stubborn when it comes to Father! You refuse to bury the hatchet!"

"Are you saying you regret coming with me?"

"Yes! I want to return to the Celestial Realm and be an angel again! You know, the way I used to be, white wings and all! You made me a monster, Lucifer!" Lucifer sighs. I can tell that Asmo's words hurt him; the pain is evident in his eyes.

"I'm sorry that you feel that way. I know seeing your reflection in the mirror scares you. But I didn't force you to leave. That was a decision you made on your own, and unfortunately there's no undoing it. What's done is done, and we all have to live with the consequences."

"Fuck you!" The room begins shaking as black smoke fills the air. The next thing I know, the four of us are in the middle of a tall, dimly lit labyrinth.

And we're face-to-face with a giant spider.

"Okay, what in the hell was in those gummy bears?!" MC exclaims.

"An evil spirit," Lucifer calmly replies.

How lovely. Some demon must have thought it was a terrific idea to befriend a trickster spirit and mix its essence into candy to then sell to unsuspecting strangers.

Of course, that demon may have specifically picked Asmo to be the spirit's target. While public opinion of the brothers is certainly better than what it was when MC and I first arrived, there's still plenty of people that wish them nothing but harm and misfortune.

"I'm s-sorry!" Asmo cries. "I didn't m-mean what I s-said!"

"We'll talk about it later," Lucifer replies roughly. "Right now, we need to get away from this spider and find a way out of here."

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