#such good fanfiction coming out for them too

[redcrowncafe]

FANFICTION CHAPTERS IN SHORT

Here you will find a summary of the chapters so far, so there will be spoilers. There may not be all of them so I'll add them from time to time.

Be warned.. spoilers!!!

Chapter 1: Introduction

The chapter begins with Lambert arriving to Camelliatown in a taxi. They are freshly graduated from university and they're moving to a new city to spend some time alone and learn how to be independent on their own, working at a "simpler" job while looking for some more close to their study's field.

Once they clean and fix their new home, after stumbling into a certain three eyed mean cat who told em to fuck off, they start giving their CV to several places. They find Ratau's coffee shop and manage to get hired after Midas quits the cafe after he wins the lottery. Lambert is happy about it even if they find out that mean cat works there and will be their colleague.

When they come back home and look outside the terrace they meet their new neighbor: Ratoo. They think he's similar to someone they've seen, but they don't know it's Ratau's older brother.

Chapter 2: Gerberas for the café

After facing some insecurities due their memories of struggling to fit in back in university, Lambert starts their first day of work at the Red Crown Café. They arrive pretty early and Ratau shows approval, then expresses frustration towards Narinder, revealing he always arrives late and sometimes never shows up, without even warning him beforehand. He hints at some issues the coffee shop had to went through after its best era, but refuses to elaborate, leaving Lambert confused. The sheep then gives him the idea of renovating the workplace aesthetically and they all agree on getting some flowers to decorate the entrance.

Lambert goes to the flower shop to buy the flowers Ratau gave them and they meet the owner, who is Forneus, who also sells handmade things in the same place. In fact Lambert lays their eyes on a green sweater and Forneus decides to keep it aside for them so they can buy it whenever they want.

When Lambert comes back they find Narinder, who is receiving a lecture from Ratau for his being late, and when they show the flowers they bought he acts mean. Things get worse when Narinder spits in the drink that was preparing to a customer and Lambert takes it away from him, pouring its contents in the sink. Angrily, Narinder drags them in the storage room and pims them on the wall, insulting them and what they're doing for the shop, but when Lambert takes a stand he fails to sustain his point when Ratau interrupt them awkwardly.

Lambert gets to know one of Ratau's friends: Klunko, who is silly and kind. He helps them placing the flowers the sheep bought in the vases and leaves a good impression on Lambert. When they come back home, they don't realize someone is watching them.

Chapter 3: Fake cigarettes

Ratau is visiting his brother's house before starting the day of work. He knows Ratoo is depressed and when he doesn't find him in any room, he starts to fear the worse, but thankfully when he checks the terrace he finds he simply fell asleep on a chair outside.

Lambert meets the Fox in the café while Ratau is in the bathroom, and the Fox, after introducing his character with politeness, he starts to insult them without apparent reason while they are preparing their order and they don't find the strenght to fight back. After the Fox leaves Narinder arrives and sees Lambert leaving the coffee shop in tears.

Lambert is crying on a bench not too far from the café, and when they see Narinder reaching them and trying to comfort them in his own special way, by telling them they should never let someone step on their feet just because someone is a customer, they are pretty surprised by it and starts seeing him under a different light.

After Lambert comes back to the café with Narinder and Ratau comfort them too, they get to know the rest of Ratau's friends and they end up playing cards together. Narinder seems to adore Shrumy.

At the end of the day Lambert has a nice conversation with Ratoo, who gives them advices on how to befriend the mean colleague. Anyways, the following day Lambert will visit a new city since Ratau suggested them to take a day off because of the stressful day they had to endure.

Chapter 4: Abandoned Necklace

Ratau wakes up in Shrumy's bed and panics because he remembers what happened the previous night. He finds him in the kitchen and, after Shrumy insists on Ratau staying to his place for the morning, failing, they have a lovely conversation while the turtle prepares his horrible coffee. Ratau starts to feel nostalgic, remembering about how it was to be with him, and when Shrumy notices it he starts to get bitter and kicks him out of his apartment.

When Narinder gets to the café to work, before Ratau arrives, he finds the vases flipped over and the plants are a mess. When the owner arrives and sees what happened he seems shocked, but pretends to not to know what and why it happened, belittling the event and looking suspicious in the eyes of Narinder.

After a calm morning, Lambert visits the nearby city, that is bigger. They get to buy a new dress, even if it isn't the one they wanted to get in the beginning, they visit a park and they find a LGBTQIA+ bookstore café, where they meet Heket, Leshy and Shamura. Lambert doesn't get a good impression of the first two, due Heket's coldness and Leshys nervousness, while they're visibly having a crush on Shamura.

The chapter and with Ratau meeting the Fox for mysterious reasons at night and with Lambert finding a moon necklace on the beach.

Chapter 5: Vanilla Extract

Narinder wakes up from an unpleasant and confusing nightmare featuring Shamura and start their day in a depressing way. When he arrives late at work and Ratau lies him Lambert being already here to make him feel guilty, he explodes and tries to stab him with a soft straw. Meanwhile Lambert is visibly in love because of Shamura and both Narinder and Ratau fear they're high. Lambert works in a very distracting way because of their crush, ending up to pour too much vanilla essence in someone's order.

During the day, Ratau understands Shrumy is trying to avoid him and the only way he manages to get the turtle's full attention is when he mentions the Fox. Meanwhile Narinder manages to manipulate Klunko into telling them why Ratau and Shrumy are having a weird time thanks to reverse psychology, so Klunko tell them about the fact they were a couple once but broke up several years ago due Ratau not telling his parents about his gay boyfriend.

After work Narinder drags Lambert away again, but to tell them about the fact he's sure Ratau is hiding something and that he wants their help to investigate. Lambert agrees but at one condition: to hang out so they could at least get to know each other a bit more. Narinder agrees, and then receives an unpleasant call from his landlord.

Chapter 6: Mushroom pizza

After moments of gender dysphoria, self hatred and ADHD syntomps, Narinder arrives late at the restaurant with Lambert, who forgives him for letting them wait so long. The two get to know the owner of the pizza place, Sozo, who Lambert learns he is now happily married with another man. Meanwhile, Narinder and Lambert seem to have a nice conversation: they joke around, tease each other, but for a reason or another Lambert hit the wrong nerve and manage to piss Narinder off, turning that pleasant, casual dinner into an awkward and depressing one.

When they are going to come back home they see Forneus being cornered and attacked by hooded people who want her money. Narinder is paralyzed from the fear, but when Lambert sees one of them pulling out the knife they vocally intervene, trying to stop them. They manage to distract them and Forneus flees, but this makes the criminals pretty angry and start to chase them and Narinder. During the flight Lambert feels sick, and when Narinder takes a sigh of relief because of the danger they escaped, he sees his friend passing out in front of him.

Lambert wakes up in Narilamb's place, a very small apartment, and that's where they admit they have a congenital heart defect. Narinder tries to convince them to talk about it to Ratau, but they insist on waiting for the right time. The chapter ends with Narinder telling his friend to stay for the night and then he plays the bass in front of Lambert's sparkly eyes.

Chapter 7: Missed calls

Narinder wakes up near Lambert and disapproves the fact they're drooling over his pillow, having one of their sweet dreams featuring a certain person. After the two wake up and talk about the events that took place the previous night, the landlord enters the apartment to talk to Narinder, and suddenly shows disapproval when he sees him with another person, which is against the rules of his rent. He doesn't believe in their story while displaying his bigotry and ableism. When he leaves the two realize they're late for work and go together to the café.

When Narinder and Lambert try to explain what happened to Ratau, he forgives their being late but don't seem to take seriously anything they report, which brush them the wrong way, especially Narinder who is deeply disappointed. Shrumy doesn't approve Ratau's behaviour as well and brings him to the storage room to talk about it. The two have an argument but Shumy learns Ratau doesn't want to minimize what happened and that he simply wants to hide his secrets to protect them, then Shrumy explains that even if Ratau is doing so to keep the workers safe, he's getting the opposite result.

At the end of the day of work, Narinder leaves with an upset expression without even saying bye, which makes Lambert sad, but then Ratau explains them he acts like this because he's scared of rain, in fact it was very cloudy.

Ratau and his friends bring Forneus to the police station, where she reports the aggression of the previous day to the cops. They don't do much about it and she's so unhappy about it that she screams in anger mentioning a certain Delilah. Ratau and his friends are forced to drag her outside to avoid troubles with the police and after they bring her back home, Shrumy comforts Ratau who feels guilty and offers him to sleep in his house that night.

Chapter 8: Baggages

The chapter opens with Kallamar and Leshy interacting behind the counter. Kallamar comments the ugly color combinations worn by some customers, while Leshy replies with more creepy comments directed to him and taking advantage of his hearing impairment to not to repeat the mean things he said to him. Leshy also shows disapproval and frustration when Kallamar talks about removing a star that Narinder drew on the wall before leaving.

When Lambert enters the bookstore cafe Kallamar serves him and introduces himself in a very polite, almost dramatic way, also explaining his disability (hearing) and the ones owned to the other two colleagues. He looks a bit weird, but leaves a good impression on Lambert. When the sheep sees Shamura and they don't seem to recognize them they feel horribly embarassed, but then that's how they learn about their friend's memory impairment. The two happily chat again and Shamura lets Lambert give them their phone number, that is also secretly taken by Kallamar.

The following day, on Monday, Narinder manages to get to work on time, but he's particularly tired and silent. During their day of work anyways, Lambert catches Narinder being bullied by the same woman he tried to give her that drink in which he spitted during the first day of Lambert's work. She reveals to be transphobic towards him and it turns out that wasn't the first time she was verbally attacking him. So Lambert defends their friend and kicks the mean customer outside the café, surprising Narinder.

Once the day of work is over, Lambert meets Forneus again, who thanks them for the help they gave her when she was being attacked by those criminals and, as a gift, she gives them the sweater that kept aside specifically for them. Then, when they're about to come back home with the new sweater, they see Narinder being dramatically kicked out by the landlord because of his inability to pay the rent for more than one month. Lambert tries to comfort their colleague and convinces him to sleep in their home until he finds a new sistemation.

Chapter 9: Guns

Lambert welcomes Narinder in their home and he seems to be happy to not have to sleep in the streets. Anyways, he definitely changes attitude when he finds there is only one double bed and decides to sleep on the sofa, even if this one is terribly uncomfortable. Narinder also opens up about his mental health issues linked to depression before they go to sleep.

The following day Narinder punches Lambert in the face while he's sleeping because he doesn't want to be waken up, and after eating breakfast the cat finds Ratau talking at the phone, talking about someone meeting mysterious. The two manage to hear the whole thing and to not get caught by Ratau, then they decide to follow him after work to see what is he really hiding.

When the moment arrives, the two struggle to follow Ratau because of the not functioning street lights and Narinder seems to be concerned with his physical state. Anyways they finally find Ratau and they see him courageously facing the same Fox that insulted Lambert days ago. He lends him a empty envelope telling him he won't give him any more money, and the Fox starts to punch him in front of the two scared colleagues who get caught by Klunko and Flinky, who were here too. After the Fox tells Ratau he's not going to kill him, but attack the people he cares about just to see him suffer, Shrumy appears and immobilizes the criminal. Anyways, he finds himself surrounded by his sidekicks he finds himself forced to leave him go. When the evil guys leave Ratau invites everyone to his house so he can finally give Narinder and Lambert the explanations they deserve.

Chapter 10: Cracks

Once they all get to Ratau's house, Flinky starts medicating his wounds while he explains how he started to pay the Fox many years ago to protect his café because of issues and troubles unknown people caused. He is aware about the fact it was a mistake and he regrets it everyday.

After said explanation, Lambert sees Narinder looking at the raindrops on the windows with a tense expression, this is where Narinder expresses his illogical yet intense repulsion for rain. He gets melancholic and Lambert fails to comfort him.

The same night Shrumy and Ratau sleep in the same bed and they almost kiss, but Ratau steps back because he hates the Shrumy keeps being romantic with him even if he stated pretty clearly he doesn't want to be in a romantic relationship with him anymore.

The following day Forneus and her kits show up at the cafe, and when Baal sees Shrumy, recognizing him for mysterious reasons, he flees, leaving everyone confused but the turtle, who is feeling suspicious about it. When Narinder tries to serve the two customers he suddenly feels unwell and finds himself unable to move because of the tension. Lambert fears he's having a heart attack, but then it turns out Narinder suffers from panic attacks and that one of those was happening right now. Ratau and Kudaai, who is a doctor, manage to support Narinder, who is brought to Lambert's home after the attack.

At the end of that difficult day of work Lambert apparently receives a message by Shamura, but they don't know the person who is texting them pretending to be the spider is, instead, Kallamar.

Chapter 11: Masks

When Lambert arrives home, they find Shrumy entertaining Narinder with the bass and when they leave them alone, Lambert asks him how he feels. After expressing the fact they will do anything to help them in case another panic attack occurs, they gift him the moon necklace they found on the beach, telling him it's magical and brings luck. Narinder of course doesn't believe them but still apprecciates the gift.

This time Lambert lets Narinder sleep on the bed while they will sleep on the sofa instead, surprising their friend. Lambert struggles to sleep that night and they end up chatting with "Shamura", managing to get a date with "them".

The following day, while Narinder stays home, Lambert goes to work and gets to see Sozo and his husband, Helob, enter the café. They express how much they love each other publicly and Lambert feels inspired, wishing to be in such a cute and lasting relationship in the future.

The chapters end with another victim of the criminals who gets beaten after he explains why he can't give them the money. One of the goons runs away from the scene and, removing their mask once he's away, he reveals his tears. He is Baal.

Chapter 12: Comics or books

Baal comes back home pretty late and has a heartbreaking argument with his mother, who begs Aym to let her know whatever is going on with his brother once he finds out.

Lambert finds Narinder's secret: he keeps a gay comic and they decide to read it out loud to tease him. Once they're done Narinder ask them to give him some secret as well and that's how they give him an album filled with photos, the most embarassing ones as well. He starts to feel melancholic and pretty jealous because Lambert still has a family, but when a half burned photograph portraying Lambert and a lion person distract him, they explain that is their ex-boyfriend and that they left them because nonbinary. Narinder of course comforts his friend telling all those muscles and hair compensate for something else. When he suggests them to burn or destroy that photo to get rid of him on a deeper level, Lambert says they will think about it.

The day of the date finally arrives, Lambert waits for their date for almost a hour and when they see Kallamar arrive instead of Shamura they feel confused. Heartbroken even, when Kallamar says Shamura simply forgot about the date. The squid almost convinces Lambert to hang out with him instead when Heket and Shamura arrive on the spot and this is how they all find out Kallamar was pretending to be Shamura just to go on a date with Lambert instead. Heket drags him back to the bookstore café where he left Leshy working all alone while Shamura decides to hang out with Lambert.

Lambert spends a beautiful day with Shamura, buying books and comics for the bookstore, eating dinner together and they end up stargazing. Lambert is completely enamoured with Shamura, even if they don't understand their yapping about astronomy and physics, but then they found they spent too much talking and lost track of time. In fact, it is too late for Lambert to get the bus or the train and go back home, so Shamura suggests them to sleep in their home as a solution. Of course, Lambert accepts their offer, not realizing Narinder had been calling them for a long while due the late hour and them not showing up at home.

[have-you-seen-my-sanity]

A lesson in power

Duke Leto Atreides x f!reader

Summary: Your house is no match against house Atreides. Leto shows you.

Cw/triggers: smut, nsfw, p in v, captive reader, power imbalance, I will say dub-con vibes at first, kind of possessive Leto.

The leaders of your house didn't know how powerful house Atreides really was when they sent an army towards it.

You only knew rumors, and your leaders didn't really go into detail with the strength of Atreides' army.

You were among the fighters that have been captured.

Standing infront of him inside his personal chambers, the Duke chose you to make an example of what happens if someone messes with Duke Leto Atreides.

"You should be relieved to know I won't be doing a counter attack on your pathetic house."

Leto reached out, gripping your chin firmly.

"Tell me, did your leaders tell you about our mighty house?"

"No, Duke..." you answered softly, looking him in the eyes.

Leto hummed, "Do not mess with our house. Your house wouldn't be the first that would have been wiped from existence because they've attacked us."

He stepped back, his fingers moving to slowly undo his uniform.

"Undress, get on the bed and prepare yourself for me." came his firm order.

Seeing nothing else you could do besides obeying his command, you hesitantly undressed and laid down on the bed.

After Leto stripped down, he turned towards you, wearing nothing but his boxers which did nothing to hide the prominent bulge.

The Duke stalked towards you, his expression intense with desire but also authoritative. Once at the bed, his eyes roamed over your vulnerable form, then set themselves down onto your core.

He gripped your thighs, spreading your legs, stepping between them, then reached into his boxers to pull his thick cock out.

"Brace yourself." was the only warning he gave you before pushing his girth into you.

At first you let out a gasp at his sudden impalement, his hand coming down to rub your clit. Despite your situation, you found yourself getting increasingly wet, your head falling back against the sheets.

Leto used this to lean down, keeping his movements steady.

"You're loving it, don't you?" he rasped, his hands moved to to grip your hips, holding them as his hips now increased their pace.

The only thing you could do was moan in response, the overwhelming ecstasy made you fall limp.

"Listen to those sounds... enjoying yourself pretty good here, hm?" he chuckled dryly, slowing his pace slightly, turning to look at how his cock disappeared into your dripping pussy.

Oh, how he enjoyed that sight. Made him wish he could see it more often instead only this once...

"You know what?" he asked between thrusts. "Maybe I should keep you as a trophy... so the leaders of your house would always remember the day they messed with the wrong people..." he said huskily.

His words reached you, but you couldn't focus on giving an answer.

Feeling the build up in your belly, your hips bucking up into him on their own, your orgasm was fast approaching.

Leto felt you tightening around him, it caused him to chase his own release, his thrusts became sloppy and his grip on your hips tightened almost possessively.

The pleasure he delivered was too much for you, you couldn't hold back any longer then your slick pussy clamped down on him, gripping his girth like a vice.

Leto groaned deeply, his hips jerking erratically at his desperate state, then with a last slam against you, he filled you up.

"Fuck!" he groaned, collapsing down on top of you, his face falling into the crook of your neck, with both of you panting.

After Leto had calmed down, he pulled his softened cock out of you, watching his cum oozing out of your spent pussy mixed with your own juices.

Leto then stood up, putting his soft cock back into his boxers, looking down at your exhausted form on his bed.

"And now, let's talk about your loyalties, shall we?"

------------------------

Tags:

@nekoyin @steven-grants-world @iolaussharpe-24 @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

@krakenkitty @tokkiwrites @lunaana-02 @faretheeoscar

@rosegnome @ghoulzsstuff @autismsupermusicalassassin @silvernight-m

@theaterm @ivystoryweaver @freedreampeach

Wanna get tagged?

[bigkickguy]

daanmarcoh doodle - they're sleeping in shifts and keeping watch

[itsscottiesstark]

Sometimes, I'll be writing (or even reading) a fic, and a very cliche or way too romantic line will come out of me and I pause for a second, contemplating whether or not "they'd actually say that".

Then I remember that the beings I'm writing said fanfiction about are Anthony "No Nightingales" Crowley and Aziraphale "You go too fast for me" Fell and I'm like- yes, those bitches are extra af. They would say that. And more.

[nights-are-better]

i've seen a lot of stuff on this recently and wanna add in my opinions bc why not. there's stuff going around about how low engagement is on fanfics and people are right, i run an edit account (shameless promotion on it rn) and write fics (more shameless promotion) and i get a decent amount of attention, don't get me wrong i love when one person engages bc that means it's reached one person.

but back when i started my edit account it peaks pretty decently, then everything started slowing down and it's really sad, as much as i tell myself not to get hurt by the little attention it gets, i put so much effort into the edits and fics, just to feel a little short changed.

i bounce from more mainstream fandoms to more niche ones, i get engagement varies based on how big a fandom is so when i get little attention on my more niche edits i get it. but when it's a larger fandom, it hurts that i don't get much attention.

when it comes to fanfics, i get kudos, same logic, smaller fandoms, less attention not the issue. the issue i have is that no one comments, i get roughly three or less than. it's not that i wanna sit there and go 'validate me strangers, validate me' it just is a little encouragement when someone says they enjoyed it and can't wait for more (and i also struggle to leave comments on fics to, it slips my mind when you get excited with new ships or just fics).

i know there a bigger issues in fandoms (and the world), but the small sense of community i get within fandoms is quite nice, i've made some mates over the past few years and it's nice, becuase some pretty good friendships come out of one share interest.

it's worrying to me that interaction in fandoms seems to have fizzled out, but also how toxic a lot of them have become, i've seen so many saying they get rude comments, there's so much discourse. i sit back and avoid shit going down in fandoms bc at the end of the day, sure it's just a fandom, but it's also a community for so many.

sure fics/edits are made for the creators, i write a lot of 'no one asked for this' fics, but that doesn't mean you can't engage, leave a comment every once in a while if you enjoyed it, show the author some love.

[quietwingsinthesky]

this gentle life of ours

(Other Links: Dreamwidth - FFNet - Pillowfort - Squidgeworld)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Midafer Additional Tags: Mpreg, Pregnant Lucifer (Supernatural), Pregnant Michael (Supernatural), Domestic Fluff, Light Angst, Alternate Universe Wordcount: 3039 Summary:

Getting Michael pregnant is an accident. Lucifer? Not as much. Or, Adam and his two pregnant archangel house spouses <3

Notes:

Now this is for @nugget-of-joy, who gave me a prompt, yes, but made it a submission aksljdalskjd. but i forgive her and give her 3000-ish words. the original prompt was "Midafer with both angels being knocked up 👀 thoughts?" and my thoughts were Yes :)

Lucifer has been staying with them a few weeks by the time Michael starts to show.

Michael was the one who dragged him home. Adam doesn’t have the full story, only that one day it’s just him and Michael in the house and the next, their guest room is the devil’s new home. Of course he’s curious, but so far, he’s pretty sure he and Michael have carved out a life for themselves by virtue of no one noticing they got out of the Cage. Bringing Lucifer in jeopardizes that, sure, but trying to figure out where he was before Michael found him is asking for trouble that Adam, frankly, doesn’t need to deal with.

For the first few days, he didn’t even see Lucifer. Michael spent most of his time with him. The ability to be jealous was burnt out of Adam a few hundred years ago in Hell. It would require him to believe Michael would ever leave, and that’s not just unlikely, it’s laughable. Lucifer started leaving his room after that beginning lull. He was quiet. Adam might call him jumpy, even paranoid. It was something in his eyes. A hunted look. Pity came first and easiest, but compassion? That was harder to summon up for him.

Not until Michael was gone one day, and Lucifer was freaking out about something he refused to explain to Adam, and Adam had to tug him over to the couch to lay on top of him like his own personal weighted blanket. Lucifer melted where he was pinned under Adam. They stayed like that until Michael came back, far better equipped to help Lucifer than Adam was.

After that, he began to fit into their lives in places Adam hadn’t known were empty. Lucifer cuddled between them in bed and eating dinner at their table and sleeping in their bed. Michael takes brotherly love to a whole other level, and Lucifer soaks it up like he’s starved for it. Adam can't help falling in love with him, too. Especially as Lucifer begins to relax a little more, trust that he and Michael aren't about to throw him out. He learns to cook, he builds himself a garden, and he pouts for attention when he feels he hasn't gotten enough for the day.

And then, Michael is pregnant.

There really is no other outcome for him and Adam never using protection. Adam had assumed that Michael, being an archangel and powerful enough that he dragged them both out of the deepest part of Hell by pure stubbornness, was able to keep himself from being knocked up. Adam was wrong. He’s not that upset about it. Having a kid is terrifying, having one with Michael even more so, but at the same time, he thinks about their little terror running underfoot one day and finds himself smiling without meaning to. (He even thinks about their kid growing up with Lucifer still around, and… he likes it. This is their home, this is their life, and Lucifer is going to be a part of all of it.)

Michael's belly grows, the curve of it undeniably pushing on every shirt he wears. Adam’s a little obsessed. Michael will let him put his hands over the bump while he tells him what’s going on underneath. It’s too early to feel any kicking, but Adam can’t seem to pull himself away. That’s Michael’s baby. That’s his baby.

As his computer tabs fill up with searches about baby food and cribs, he begins to notice Lucifer watching them. He hovers in the doorway while Michael and Adam are debating which color to paint the new nursery. (Michael says it should be dark since the point of the room is to put the baby to sleep; Adam says it should be something brighter because they've had seen dark places in their lives.) He doesn't say a word when he sees Adam babyproofing the house (something Michael has told him again and again isn't necessary, as though an unprotected electric socket or a stray bottle of detergent could actually harm their child, but it's about the principle of the thing) but he does follow him from room to room. He pretends to be doing something else whenever Adam glances over at him, but he's not being particularly subtle. It's the first time Adam starts to have doubts about him being around their kid. They'll be half Michael's, half angel, but that other half of them will still be human. Adam's pretty sure that Lucifer's opinions on humanity haven't shifted much since the Apocalypse. (If anything, they've soured more since he's seen what humans have done to the world he loves. It's a touchy subject, and therefore, banned from the dinner table.)

It hurts more than Adam expected it would to think that Lucifer won't love their child as much as he and Michael will.

The morning after those thoughts begin to stew in his head is a pretty one. Almost clear skies with wisps of cloud that let the sun stream down through their windows. By the time Adam is awake, his bed has long been abandoned by his archangels. (The night before, Lucifer had still come to sleep with them, but for the first time, he'd slept with his back to both of them. Michael had noticed, but he hadn't said anything, only fallen asleep with his frown pulled tight.) Adam drags himself reluctantly from his bed to the kitchen. He can't hear coffee brewing, but Michael hasn't been able to stand the smell for the past week and Adam will do anything to make him more comfortable, even if his caffeine-addicted brain hates his guts for it. At least Michael's there for him to wrap himself around, face buried in the crook of his neck where he's warm and soft. Adam's hands sneak around his middle to caress his belly.

"Good morning," Michael says. Adam grunts an interim response while he wakes up enough to make words. Being near Michael is helping. He smells nice.

"Morning," Adam finally manages, and he lets Michael turn around in his arms so that he can kneel down and press a kiss to his baby bump. "Good morning to you, too."

"You know that they can't hear you yet, right?" Michael asks, spoiling Adam's fun. Adam ignores him.

"You be good to your dad today, huh? He's grumpy enough already." Michael huffs, and Adam smiles up at him. He rises to kiss Michael, wiping away any hint of annoyance. Adam rests his forehead against Michael's when the kiss breaks. He misses having Michael possess him, but Michael needs to keep their baby safe and the idea of being pregnant himself makes Adam extremely dysphoric. It's different when it's Michael, even in a body that mirrors his own. Michael is so happy with parts of Adam that used to make him feel sick that he sees them in a new light, and even his own memories of living in a body closer to how Michael keeps it are no longer as painful. Besides, and Adam can admit this without any shame, Michael looks hot carrying his kid.

It's Michael who tilts his head away from Adam to look behind him. Adam follows his gaze, glancing back over his shoulder as Michael asks, "Lucifer?"

Lucifer winces when Michael says his name. He looks immediately like he wants to be anywhere but there, watching the two of them talk about their child. He turns his gaze down to the floor and refuses to look up again.

"This isn't going to work," Adam says. "You can't stalk us around the house like this. What's so wrong about Michael having a kid that you can't even look at him?" Michael makes a noise, quiet and hurt, and Adam realizes he hadn't even put the pieces together about why Lucifer was acting weird. He hates that he had to be the one to bring it to light, but if they don't take care of it now, he can see it snowballing into a serious disaster. They've built something together, and Adam isn't about to give it up.

"I never said anything about that," Lucifer answers. He speaks very softly. Adam's never heard him raise his voice in the entire time he's been living with them. (He'd been expecting it. Arguments between him and Michael, day in and day out, only slightly better than the Cage because the insults wouldn't echo for a hundred years afterwards and cut just as deep. Instead, even as he feels more safe around them, Lucifer is still quiet. It's like something out there had fun breaking him, and no one had bothered to pick up the pieces before Michael brought him home.)

"Then stop acting"—Adam gestures at him, frustrated—"like that. Like the whole world is going to end because of a baby." Lucifer still won't look at them.

"Is that what this is about?" Michael asks. "Lucifer, our child-"

"Your child," Lucifer corrects. "Adam didn't give them to me. He gave them to you." Adam blinks. Finally, Lucifer glances up at them.

What's on Lucifer's face isn't disgust. It's longing.

"Are you jealous?" Adam asks in disbelief.

"Is that so hard to believe?" Lucifer's voice hardens for the first time Adam's heard in a long time. He turns his accusations onto Michael, ignoring Adam's surprise. "You knew we could create life? That I could-" There's a choke that cuts off his words, and silence, and quietly again, "You knew it would come out wrong if I did it, didn't you? That's why you weren't going to tell me." Lucifer was terrifying, once. Adam's sure he could be again, if he wanted to. He stands at the threshold of the kitchen, shoulders slumped, and looks as though he's been kicked until he won't get up again. "It would be like me." The resignation in his voice is so heavy, even Adam feels weighed down by it.

"Wait," he says, buying himself time to process all of that, "wait, you- You're mad at Michael because he's having a baby and you aren't?"

Adam's life was supposed to have reached the point at which it couldn't get more surreal a few years ago.

Lucifer doesn’t answer him. 

They have a big nursery. Room enough to fit two cribs, side to side. 

Adam takes a step away from Michael. He feels Michael’s fingers trail down his arm as he moves, but he’s not going anywhere. Only far enough to hold Lucifer’s hand and draw him further into the room. He shouldn’t be standing on the sidelines anymore. He belongs here.

“If you want a baby that bad, you could just ask,” he says.

”Michael already-“

”We can have more than one baby,” Adam explains, purposefully slow so that Lucifer will get annoyed with him and pull his energy away from being upset. It works.

”I didn’t tell you because I had no idea you wanted it,” Michael cuts in. “Brother, any child of yours would be a blessing, not a curse.” Michael lifts a hand to cup Lucifer’s cheek as Adam squeezes his hand. He can hear the words unspoken, and neither are you, and hopes Lucifer can, too. Though, if he still can’t, if he doesn’t believe Michael, then they have plenty of time to prove it to him. Starting with this.

“Then, you’ll let me have a baby?” Hope is such a rare thing to hear in Lucifer’s voice. Adam grins.

”Only if you’re okay with changing diapers.” Lucifer does make a face at that, but it melts away as he realizes he can get exactly what he wants. He squeezes Adam’s hand back. 

He waits a moment, and then says, “Has it happened yet?”

Adam and Michael stare at him. Lucifer stares back, unbothered. 

“We haven’t…” Adam trails off. It occurs to him that he’s never had sex with Lucifer, and Michael has never mentioned having sex with Lucifer, and between the Cage and the Apocalypse, Adam doubts he had time to get down and dirty with the demons or humans he equally despised. Which means that Adam has to ask a very important question. “You do know how babies are made, right?”

“Human ones. I’m not human.” Adam looks at Michael. 

“We’re in human vessels,” Michael says.

It takes Lucifer a minute of frowning to figure out what they mean. When he’s done, Adam swears he can see his cheeks flush. 

“I haven’t done that before,” he admits. 

The devil is a virgin. He’s asking Adam to deflower and knock him up all at once. It’s a lot for Adam to handle. His dick happily disagrees. This is exactly what it wants to handle.

There’s only one way to take care of him. Adam grips Lucifer’s hand in one of his and takes Michael’s with the other, and he leads both of them to their bedroom to finally make better use of their king-sized mattress.

----

By the time Lucifer’s baby bump is showing, Michael’s has grown huge, and Adam is in (exhausting) Heaven.

Their bedroom has become a nest where he swears more pillows are added every day. Being pregnant drains a lot of Lucifer and Michael’s energy, which they aren’t used to at all, leading to situations where they tire themselves out using more grace than they should and Adam has to haul them to bed or the couch to lay down for a minute. Michael gets cravings for foods that have gone extinct, and because of that, Lucifer’s garden is now crowded with several impossible plants bearing fruits that haven’t grown on Earth in hundreds of years. Adam keeps seeing toys at the store and buying them, even though it’ll still be a few months before the babies are born and longer before they’ll be able to appreciate stuffed animals.

Here, in their secret corner of the world, the future is starting to look a lot brighter.

(Adam’s not fooling himself, though. He knows this won’t be easy. He’s heard Michael and Lucifer whispering to each other about how much harder it’ll get to hide their children once they’re older. Adam hasn’t even met either of them yet, but he’ll fight off the whole world, Heaven and Hell included, if he has to to protect them. Though, maybe he’d be better suited to holding the babies while Michael and Lucifer take care of all that that.)

He’s rubbing lotion into Lucifer’s skin, the kind that brags it can ease stretchmarks, which Lucifer doesn’t really understand (He loves the few that he has. Adam’s seen him admiring them, pleased by the changes in his vessel.) but lets Adam do anyway because he loves being pampered. He’s almost purring under Adam’s touch, leaning back against his Michael’s side with his eyes shut.

Michael looks tired. He’s more prone to overextending himself than Lucifer is. Months of a baby nephil draining his grace haven’t taught him to take better care of himself, but that’s why Adam’s here. He can give Michael a massage once he’s done with Lucifer.

”We’ll raise them as brothers, right?” Lucifer asks. Adam drops a kiss to his navel. Michael’s belly button popped out a week ago, yet another difference between Adam’s body and the one Michael inhabits that was based off of his. Michael doesn’t answer long enough for Lucifer to open his eyes and glance up at him. Michael smiles. 

“Brother and sister, actually,” he corrects. Adam looks up from kissing Lucifer’s belly. Lucifer blinks, and then he looks even more excited than he did before.

”You’re having a girl?” Adam asks. Michael nods. Adam feels his chest pull tight. They haven’t even discussed names yet, but he’s been thinking, of course he’s been thinking, and Kate would be a lovely name for a baby girl, and- He takes a deep breath to calm his racing thoughts. “That’s amazing,” he says. They have all the time in the world to sort that out. 

“I love her,” Lucifer says. “I love both of them. They’re ours, Michael, we made them.” Lucifer’s voice gets soft, almost giddy, whenever he brings that up. It means the world to him that he can create this new life, that it will be beautiful and all theirs to take care of.

”What, not mine too?” Adam teases, though he knows Lucifer doesn’t mean it like that. Humans make babies all the time. Angels? Not so much. Still, Lucifer turns to look at him, still grinning. 

“And yours,” he agrees. "These ones and the next few-“

“Next few?” That’s the first Adam’s hearing of that.

“We can’t just have two. They’ll get lonely. We need at least four.” That tugs on Adam’s heartstrings a little, but not enough for him to agree to that just yet. 

“Let’s see how well we handle having these two first. Then we’ll see about having more.” Lucifer huffs, but he doesn’t argue. His hand splays over his belly. Adam covers it. 

“How hard could it be to raise two children?” Michael asks, with the doubt of someone who was left in charge of hundreds of little angels and thinks that any of those skills he acquired leading Heaven are going to translate neatly over to snacktime and putting them down for naps.

“We’ll see how you still feel once she’s able to cry,” Adam says. Michael does not seem convinced this is going to be a challenge. He’s going to eat those words, Adam’s sure, but they’ll get through it together. “Hey, how do your ankles feel?” Michael tips his head down, realizes he can’t see them past his belly, and props them up on the coffee table. Adam clicks his tongue. “I told you to stay off you’re feet or they’ll swell up worse.” 

“I’m not going to sit here and make you take care of everything,” Michael says as Adam slides off the couch and onto his knees, bringing Michael’s foot into his lap. He gently massages the swollen area.

”Why not? I would,” Lucifer says, sleepily. Michael sighs, but it rolls into one of relief as Adam rubs his foot.

Adam smiles to himself. They’re going to handle this just fine together.

[magentagalaxies]

hey so i'm not making a DNI because i don't want to (i initially had a longer attempt at articulating a reason and then i realized i don't have to explain more than "i don't want to") but the past few blogs that have followed me are very harry pottter focused and given the actions and rhetoric of jk rowling i'd appreciate it if any blogs who prominently post harry potter themed content would kindly refrain from following me.

you can probably still reblog my posts, not bc of my moral stance but bc honestly i don't really notice who reblogs from me unless they have a huge red flag in their url, but in terms of following my blog i'd prefer it if harry potter bloggers could just not

and i know there's always the excuse of separating the art from the artist (like people who continue to post about harry potter but end every post with "fuck jkr tho"), and not everyone even knows why jkr is a horrible person bc a lot of the discussion is very online (that's the reason this is worded so empathetically, i'm assuming harry potter fans who follow me are in either of these two camps but if you're just an outright terf then go fuck yourself of course). but even if you're entirely dedicated to balancing every harry potter post with a post about hating terfs, the fact that harry potter is still being promoted in a way that's uncritical of the content itself makes me uncomfortable and by making the harry potter brand maintain relevance that's still supporting jkr no matter how many times you put "fuck terfs" on your blog

disagree with me if you want bc i can't control whether people post about one of the largest fandoms in history, but i can make a statement being like "hey if you follow me and your most recent posts are all harry potter gifsets i will be blocking you so honestly for your own convenience please don't put in the effort of following me"

[reinanova]

hmm i wonder if the fact that i’m in a really bad reading slump and can only read fanfics or reread favorite books (where i’m consuming media with familiar and comforting characters and worlds) says something about my mental state

[matoitech]

awakened the beast of terrible things i saw more commonly abt promare when it first came out that i forgot till now but all i can say to that is well at least i dont see that shit around anymore bcuz the fandom ppl you’d expect 2 rub their homophobic fucked up little hands over new canon gay anime men of the month moved on to more recent things and thank GOD. galo and lio need a fucking break. and me too as a real life person

[polysyndetonaddictsupportgroup]

for the ask post, 7, 8, and 17

for number 19: my favorite work is probably NHTHCTH, i absolutely adore it! especially the fairy tale parts and the way you wrote Jon and Geryy's relationship, it's amazingly heartbreaking



7. What’s a troupe you love to write?

I answered that here, but i think another trope that I really would love to write when I have time is Time Loop AUs.

I have one plotted for TMA that I really loved, and Bojack Horseman. I feel like there's a lot of room for artsy mindbendy stylistic decisions and tragedy in time loops.

8. What kind of document do you use to you write? Microsoft Word? Google Docs? Straight in the AO3 text box?

Google docs. it feels more secure for me. i've had word files that end up horribly corrupted in a crash and lost forever, but google docs is autosaving for me every few seconds.

there's like. a shit ton of fun fonts in my google docs that never see the light of day--mostly for nhthcth. I change fonts for some of the stranger stuff, like the theatre script, the delivery notes, etc. one day i'll figure out html in AO3 and figure out how to change the fonts there too. right now, there's only one person who gets to see the fonts on the original google doc. she knows who she is.

17. Are there any writers and/of stories that you consider an influence?

I answered that here, but I'd probably add to that list the poetry of César Vallejo and the works of Carmen Martín Gaite.

I was like. obsessed with Vallejo for a while. I don't really write poetry, so his influence on my life, writing style has been minimal compared to like, Vonnegut, but I think his way of discussing human suffering like, moved into my head without bothering to sign a lease. probably my favorite of his was "Piedra negra sobre una piedra blanca".

He has this really famous compilation of poems called Trilce which like, admittedly, not my favorites of his work. I have no idea why, it's objectively his most famous work and rightly so, I just got weirdly fixated on some of his other stuff. anyway, he had this convention in it which i really liked, which was to title each of his poems with numbers. like, it wouldn't have a title, it'd just be "Poema XVI", and so on and so forth. Most of the versions that I've seen have roman numerals for it, but for some reason i'm convinced that the copy i originally read this in had just the arabic numericals at the upper lefthand corner of each page--just like, a hard "16." and that was it. I've lost the copy since, so I can't verify it. for some reason, i loved the vibe of that. Like, I can't really put my finger on it, but for some reason the act of numbering poems instead of giving them titles felt visceral to me.

there was this other book I read called Hocus Pocus by Kurt Vonnegut where the premise is the story is being told on margins of scraps of paper in a prison library, and the line break would come where the "paper" would run out, and that resulted in this really cool, fragmented, stylistic effect that also lived in my head rent free afterwards.

porcelain chips' weird structure was sort of a sloppy attempt to kind of chase the way that those structures in Trilce and Hocus Pocus made me feel. I'd seen something similar done in other fanfictions--there's this one daredevil fanfiction that uses an out of order numbering system whose name I cannot remember for the life of me, but it was really good, and a spiderman fanfiction that had used a similar structure to great effect. for some reason it just feels cool to me.

I dunno, sometimes you don't really know why a stylistic convention works, but you know it's a gut punch. i highly recommend looting every single work you love until you come up with something you like.

El cuarto de atrás by Carmen Martín Gaite was the book that kind of made me like, get metafiction as a literary device and understand how powerfully it can be used. I also, like. Named my animal crossing island after bergai. so i guess it influenced me there.

i think the post-Franco period had some really cool experimentalism, especially with female authors like Carmen Martín Gaite which I really recommend checking out. My favorite authors tend to be like, the weird experimentalist ones? Spain and Latin America both had really cool funky experimentalist phases. Probably check out works made during El Boom too if you're interested in that kind of thing.

[raspberryjellybrains]

fun little raz fact I love genderbend but in a deeply dykeish way. I just love women so much and always end up hyperfixated on male characters. however... when people write the woman version as petite and curvy and soft and weak I want to bite something. maintain the fucking character design you cowards. I don't CARE if they have features that are more conventionally attractive on men than women KEEP THAT SAME ENERGY. some of us LIKE that shit and pretending that women can't have masculine features is transphobic, racist, and misogynistic. however... when they DO maintain the character I am kissing the author on the mouth gently and platonically. I'm loeign woman.

[hazbinbabbling4ever]

amazon marketing is so good at marketing itself as very pro lgbt+ but only if it means spoiling the series to people (see good omens and the leaked "every" spoiler*), but when it comes to actually marketing the single lgbt+ serie? I've never seen either good omens or hazbin hotel on the front page.

HELL YESSSSSS! (I am a bit salty that you don't see it in their Amazon Originals section on the "front page", but whatever)

[gallusrostromegalus]

Move To A Darker Place

This is a story of Man Vs. Machine.

---

Last March, my father attempted to file his Taxes.

My beloved father is a Boomer. Unlike most Boomers, my father is rather handy with technology because he was one of the people that had a not-insignificant hand in Developing a hell of a lot of it. He was studying Computer Science at Cal Poly before the computer science degree existed. I have many fond childhood memories of skipping through the aisles of various electronic and computer part warehouses while Dad described something that either terrified the staff or made them worship him as a God.  He taught himself how to use his smartphone.  Internationally.

So when he saw the option to file digitally with the IRS through the “ID.me” program, he leapt at the chance to celebrate the Federal Government finally entering the Digital Age.

It was all going swimmingly for about six hours, until he was ready to file and the system told him that it needed to verify his identity. 

“Very Well.” said my father, a man unafraid of talking to himself and getting something out of the conversation. “It wouldn’t do for me to get someone else’s return.”

The System told him that it needed him to take a “Digital Image ID”.

a.k.a: A Selfie.

“A-ha!” Dad beams. Dad is very good at taking selfies. He immediately pulled out his phone, snapped one, and tried to upload it.

Please log into your Id.me Account and use the provided app to submit your Digital Image ID. The System clarified.

“Oh. You should have said so.”  Dad pouted, but used his phone to log onto the ID.me account, do the six security verification steps and double-checked that the filing looked the same as it did on the desktop, gave the IRS like nine permissions on his phone, and held up the camera to take his Federal Privacy Invasion Selfie.

Please align your face to the indicated grid. Said The System, pulling up a futuristic green-web-of-polygons approximation.

“Ooh, very Star Trek. Gene Roddenberry would HATE this!” Dad said cheerfully, aligning his face to the grid.  My father is a bit… cavalier, when it comes to matters of personal information and federal government, because he’s been on FBI watchlists since the late 60’s when he was protesting The Vietnam War and Ronald Regan before he’d broken containment. Alas.

Anyway, there is very little information the federal government does not have on him already, but he’s as good at stalking the FBI as they are at stalking him, and had worked out a solution:  He has something approaching a friendship with the local Federal Agent (Some guy named “Larry”. Allegedly), and got Larry hooked on Alternative Histories and Dad’s collection of carefully-researched “there is very likely buried treasure here” stories, and Larry is loath to bother his favorite Historical Fanfiction author too much.

But I digress.

After thinking for a minute, The System came back with an Error Message. Please remove glasses or other facial obstructions.

And here is where the real trouble began.

See, my father wears glasses that do substantially warp the appearance of his face, because he is so nearsighted that he is legally blind without them. His natural focal point is about 4 inches in front of his nose.  While Dad can still take a selfie because he (approximately) knows where his phone is if it’s in his hand, he cannot see the alignment grid.

He should ask someone to take it for him! I hear the audience say. Yes, that would be the sane and reasonable thing to do, but Dad was attempting to do taxes at his residence in Fort Collins, while his immediate family was respectively in Denver, Texas and Canada.  He tried calling our neighbors, who turned out to be in Uganda.

He looked down at the dog, Arwen, and her little criminal paws that can open doorknobs, but not operate cell phones.

She looked back at him, and farted.

“Well, I’ll give it a try, but if it gives me too much trouble, I’ll call Larry, and Larry can call the IRS about it.” Dad told her. 

She continued to watch him. Arwen is an Australian Kelpie (a type of cattle-herding dog), going on 14 years old, deaf as a post and suffering from canine dementia now, but she still retains her natural instinct to Micromanage. She was also trained as a therapy dog, and even if she can’t hear my dad, still recognizes the body language of a man setting himself up for catastrophe.

So, squinting in the late afternoon light next to the back door, Dad attempted to line his face up with a grid he could only sort-of see, and took A Federal Selfie.

The System thought about it for a few moments.

Image Capture Failed: Insufficient Contrast. The System replied. Please move to a darker place.

“...Huh.” Dad frowned. “Alright.”

He moved to the middle of his office, away from the back door, lit only by the house lighting and indirect sunlight, and tried again.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“What?” Dad asked the universe in general.

“Whuff.” Arwen warned him against sunk costs.

Dad ignored her and went into the bathroom, the natural habitat of the selfie. Surely, only being lit by a light fixture that hadn’t been changed since Dad was attempting to warn everyone about Regan would be suitably insufficient lighting for The System.  It took some negotiating, because that bathroom is “Standing Room Only” not “Standing And Holding Your Arms Out In Front Of You Room”.  He ended up taking the selfie in the shower stall.

As The System mulled over the latest attempt, Arwen shuffled over and kicked open the door to watch.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move to a Darker Place.

“Do you mean Spiritually?” Dad demanded.

“Whuff.” Arwen cautioned him again.

Determined to succeed, or at least get a different error message that may give him more information, Dad entered The Downstairs Guest Room.  It is the darkest room in the house, as it is in the basement, and only has one legally-mandated-fire-escape window, which has blinds.  Dad drew those blinds, turned off the lights and tried AGAIN.

Image Capture Failed. Please Move To A Darker Place.

“DO YOU WANT ME TO PHOTOGRAPH MYSELF INSIDE OF A CAVE??” Dad howled. 

“WHUFF!” Arwen reprimanded him from under the pull-out bed in the room. It’s where she attempts to herd everyone when it’s thundering outside, so the space is called her ‘Safety Cave’.

Dad frowned at the large blurry shape that was The Safety Cave.

“Why not?” he asked, the prelude to many a Terrible Plan.  With no small amount of spiteful and manic glee, Dad got down onto the floor, and army-crawled under the bed with Arwen to try One Last Time. Now in near-total darkness, he rolled on his side to be able to stretch his arms out, Arwen slobber-panting in his ear, and waited for the vague green blob of the Facial grid to appear.

This time, when he tapped the button, the flash cctivated.

“GOD DAMN IT!” Dad shouted, dropping the phone and rubbing his eyes and cursing to alleviate the pain of accidentally flash-banging himself. Arwen shuffled away from him under the bed, huffing sarcastically at him.

Image Capture Failed. Please move to a darker place.

“MOTHERFU- hang on.” Dad squinted.  The System sounded strange. Distant and slightly muffled.

Dad squinted really hard, and saw the movement of Arwen crawling out from under the bed along the phone’s last known trajectory.

“ARWEN!” Dad shouted, awkwardly reverse-army crawling out from under the bed, using it to get to his feet and searching for his glasses, which had fallen out of his pocket under the bed, so by the time he was sighted again, Arwen had had ample time to remove The Offending Device.

He found her out in the middle of the back yard, the satisfied look of a Job Well Done on her face. She did not have the phone. 

“Arwen.” Dad glared. It’s a very good glare. Dad was a teacher for many years and used it to keep his class in order with sheer telepathically induced embarrassment, and his father once glared a peach tree into fecundity.  

Arwen regarded him with the casual interest a hurricane might regard a sailboat tumbling out of its wake. She is a force of nature unto herself and not about to be intimidated by a half-blind house ape.  She also has cataracts and might not be able to make out the glare.

“I GIVE UP!” Dad shouted, throwing his hands in the air and returning to the office to write to the IRS that their selfie software sucks ass. Pleased that she had gotten her desired result, Arwen followed him in.

To Dad’s immense surprise, the computer cheerfully informed him that his Federally Secure Selfie had been accepted, and that they had received and were now processing his return!

“What the FUCK?” Dad glared. “Oh well. If I’ve screwed it up, Larry can call me.”

---

I bring this up because recently, Dad received an interesting piece of mail.

It was a letter from the IRS, addressed to him, a nerve-wracking thing to recessive at the best of times.  Instead of a complaint about Dad’s Selfie Skills, it was a letter congratulating him on using the new ID.me System.  It thanked him for his help and expressed hopes he would use it again next year, and included the selfie that The System had finally decided to accept.

“You know, my dad used to complain about automation.” Dad sighed, staring at the image. “Incidentals my boy!  My secretary saves the state of California millions of dollars a year catching small errors before they become massive ones! He’d say. Fought the human resources board about her pay every year.  I used to think he was overestimating how bad machines were and underestimating human error, but you know? He was right.”

He handed me the image.

My father was, technically, in the image.  A significant amount of the bottom right corner is taken up by the top of his forehead and silver hair.  Most of the image, the part with the facial-recognition markers on it, was composed of Arwen’s Alarmed and Disgusted Doggy face.

“Oh no!” I cackled. “Crap, does this mean you have to call the IRS and tell them you’re not a dog?”

“Probably.” Dad sighed. “I know who I’m gonna bother first though.” he said, taking out his phone (Dad did find his phone a few hours after Arwen absconded with it when mom called and the early spinach started ringing). 

“Hey Larry!” Dad announced to the local federal agent. “You’re never gonna believe this. My dog filed my taxes!”

Larry considered this for a moment. “Is this the dog that stole my sandwich? Out of my locked  car?” he asked suspiciously.

“The very same.” Dad grinned.

“Hm. Clever Girl.” Federal Agent Larry sighed. “I figured it was only a matter of time before she got into tax fraud.”

---

I'm a disabled artist making my living writing these stories. If you enjoy my stories, please consider supporting me on Ko-fi or Pre-ordering my Family Lore Book on Patreon. Thank you!

[wordstome]

how c.ai works and why it's unethical

Okay, since the AI discourse is happening again, I want to make this very clear, because a few weeks ago I had to explain to a (well meaning) person in the community how AI works. I'm going to be addressing people who are maybe younger or aren't familiar with the latest type of "AI", not people who purposely devalue the work of creatives and/or are shills.

The name "Artificial Intelligence" is a bit misleading when it comes to things like AI chatbots. When you think of AI, you think of a robot, and you might think that by making a chatbot you're simply programming a robot to talk about something you want them to talk about, and it's similar to an rp partner. But with current technology, that's not how AI works. For a breakdown on how AI is programmed, CGP grey made a great video about this several years ago (he updated the title and thumbnail recently)

I HIGHLY HIGHLY recommend you watch this because CGP Grey is good at explaining, but the tl;dr for this post is this: bots are made with a metric shit-ton of data. In C.AI's case, the data is writing. Stolen writing, usually scraped fanfiction.

How do we know chatbots are stealing from fanfiction writers? It knows what omegaverse is [SOURCE] (it's a Wired article, put it in incognito mode if it won't let you read it), and when a Reddit user asked a chatbot to write a story about "Steve", it automatically wrote about characters named "Bucky" and "Tony" [SOURCE].

I also said this in the tags of a previous reblog, but when you're talking to C.AI bots, it's also taking your writing and using it in its algorithm: which seems fine until you realize 1. They're using your work uncredited 2. It's not staying private, they're using your work to make their service better, a service they're trying to make money off of.

"But Bucca," you might say. "Human writers work like that too. We read books and other fanfictions and that's how we come up with material for roleplay or fanfiction."

Well, what's the difference between plagiarism and original writing? The answer is that plagiarism is taking what someone else has made and simply editing it or mixing it up to look original. You didn't do any thinking yourself. C.AI doesn't "think" because it's not a brain, it takes all the fanfiction it was taught on, mixes it up with whatever topic you've given it, and generates a response like in old-timey mysteries where somebody cuts a bunch of letters out of magazines and pastes them together to write a letter.

(And might I remind you, people can't monetize their fanfiction the way C.AI is trying to monetize itself. Authors are very lax about fanfiction nowadays: we've come a long way since the Anne Rice days of terror. But this issue is cropping back up again with BookTok complaining that they can't pay someone else for bound copies of fanfiction. Don't do that either.)

Bottom line, here are the problems with using things like C.AI:

It is using material it doesn't have permission to use and doesn't credit anybody. Not only is it ethically wrong, but AI is already beginning to contend with copyright issues.

C.AI sucks at its job anyway. It's not good at basic story structure like building tension, and can't even remember things you've told it. I've also seen many instances of bots saying triggering or disgusting things that deeply upset the user. You don't get that with properly trigger tagged fanworks.

Your work and your time put into the app can be taken away from you at any moment and used to make money for someone else. I can't tell you how many times I've seen people who use AI panic about accidentally deleting a bot that they spent hours conversing with. Your time and effort is so much more stable and well-preserved if you wrote a fanfiction or roleplayed with someone and saved the chatlogs. The company that owns and runs C.AI can not only use whatever you've written as they see fit, they can take your shit away on a whim, either on purpose or by accident due to the nature of the Internet.

DON'T USE C.AI, OR AT THE VERY BARE MINIMUM DO NOT DO THE AI'S WORK FOR IT BY STEALING OTHER PEOPLES' WORK TO PUT INTO IT. Writing fanfiction is a communal labor of love. We share it with each other for free for the love of the original work and ideas we share. Not only can AI not replicate this, but it shouldn't.

(also, this goes without saying, but this entire post also applies to ai art)

[walkingstackofbooks]

Once again, an imagined 3-paragraph-whatsit has grown into a little longer ficlet 😅😅...

Occasionally, Julian asks Palis what's going to happen to them when he graduates and leaves with Starfleet for the stars. Usually, she just laughs, asking "Why worry about the future, when what we have now is so good?", or jokes about how she'll have to make sure she ties him up securely enough to stop that happening.

So he tries not to think about it too much, and accepts that their relationship is one of those that's not going to last forever - which is fine, what they have is good, and he was lucky that Palis had ever chosen him in the first place. Their futures being different from each other doesn't lessen the love that they have for each other now.

And then, six months away from graduating, Paris proposes. And Julian accepts, because what else do you do when your beautiful, amazing girlfriend proposes, even if it is completely unexpected?

He does wonder what made her change her mind though - she's never shown any interest in leaving France before, or in a long-distance relationship - but he's learnt not to ask her these things directly over the years, and so for a few days he tiptoes round the subject, dropping hints and subtle questions which she dances around as gracefully as ever.

The following Friday, she invites their parents round for a celebratory meal. She doesn't like it when he's critical of his parents - it's disrespectful - so he grins and bears it and doesn't tell her he'd much rather just cuddle up with her and a film and a takeaway for the evening.

"Have you told him the news?" her father asks as they sit down for the meal. Her face lights up, and she turns to beam at Julian, reaching out for to grasp his hand.

"No, I left it for you," she replies.

And suddenly, Julian's being offered a job here in Paris. He could be Chief of Surgery in five years, apparently. Or, as Monsieur Delon -Henri - assures him, if he wanted to get deeper into research, then Saint-Antoine has very close links with univerisities all across Europe.

"I-I thought... You're not coming with me?" he asks Palis in a daze. She smiles at him brightly.

"Of course not! What would I do in space?" she laughs. "Jules, this is perfect - I know you'll be an incredible doctor, and now you don't have to leave me. I've been hoping it would work out, but I didn't want to tell you until dad had got it all sorted - isn't he the best?"

"What a wonderful opportunity!" Amsha gushes. "And here in Paris! You'll be grateful to have stayed so close to London, when you need us to help with our grandchildren."

It is a very good opportunity, and Julian should want it, shouldn't he - to have this life with Palis, to have family looking out for him, for Palis not to give up the job she loves...

His heart is racing. He feels sick.

"I'm sorry," he says faintly, standing up and bringing a hand to his stomach. "I, uh - cramps, you know? Excuse me."

He leaves the room quickly, hearing the scraping of a chair behind him - presumably Palis coming to find out what's really wrong.

She follows him through to their bedroom, glaring at him from the door as he sits down on the edge of their bed.

"That was rude," she snaps, "and don't tell me it was cramps. You had your period last week."

"I was trying not to be rude!" Julian tries to explain. "I know your father must have put in a lot of work to make this happen, I don't want to sound ungrateful or say the wrong thing—"

"Then just say yes!" Palis interrupts. "What is wrong with you? It's perfect, and here you are having a fucking panic attack about it!"

"I'm not— I..." There's a buzzing in his ears, and he trails off, reaching for something neutral. "I don't— I don't like surpises," he reminds her quietly.

To his relief, she softens, despite how pathetic he's being. Settling beside him, she starts rubbing firm circles into his back, grounding him, letting him bask in her touch.

"Oh, sweetheart, I'm sorry," she says. "Is that what all this is about? It being a surprise? Oh, Julian, if I'd known you didn't like them, I wouldn't have done it like this at all. You should have told me."

He leans into her, taking deep breaths and comfort in her familiar smell.

"I've just been so excited about this," Palis explains. "I hoped you would be too. And I know you don't want kids right now, but your mum's right, neither of us have had surgery yet, so one day..."

"'Course I'm excited," he tells her, not quite sure if he's lying. "It's just, it's all—"

"A lot, I know," she finishes for him. "I'm nervous too. It's a big decision."

He nods slowly. "Can I have some—"

"Water?" she asks. "I'll go get some for you."

He had been going to say 'time to think', but Palis is already off, and now he thinks about it, she was right - his throat is rather dry.

She returns, and he sips the water gratefully, tapping his fingers against the glass until Palis tells him to stop.

"Are you ready to go back in?" she asks. "Our parents will be getting hungry."

Julian thinks about telling her he isn't, but quickly dismisses it. That would be rude.

"Okay. Yeah. Let's go, fiancée." That word, at least, is still exciting in its newness, and his mouth stumbles upon a smile before its even out of his mouth.

"I like that," she says, pulling him up form the bed and then into her. "You're mine now," she whispers in his ear, in a way that makes him really wish that their parents were not still waiting for them in the kitchen.

But they are, and although they seem to have already started on the food (Julian would bet anything that was Richard's idea), Julian and Palis can't hide in their bedroom forever. And there's still the small matter of accepting Henri's offer.

"Um, sorry about that," he says, sliding back into his seat. His mother's eyes are on him, and he looks away, knowing she's going to want to 'talk' to him later - she didn't buy his cramps excuse, either.

He turns to Palis' father, fixing his eyes on him for an excruciating few seconds. "I really appreciate what you're doing for me and Palis," he says. "It means a lot. I'd love to work with you, thank you."

His mouth has gone dry again, but Henri is standing up and holding out his hand, which means he wants Julian to shake it. In an effort he's quite proud of, Julian manages not to break eye contact until they've both sat down again. The chatter resumes, and as he reaches for his glass, he frowns at his hand, wondering why it's shaking.

Headcanon that Julian had a bunch of “relationships” as a teen with older people just to piss his parents off/to get away from them (because his gfs and bfs in their 20s would have their own place he could stay at...) and that he never really had a chance to learn what a healthy partnership looked like.

And then that Palis was emotionally abusive towards Julian, in a way that he never quite put his finger on...

And that his attraction towards Garak was in part due to the way that Garak felt dangerous to be around. Not because that was new or exciting or thrilling, but because it was familiar.

[bitchimasnake-sss]

☆ suck-suck-succubus! ── a blue lock fanfiction. // where you come to wreck the blue lock boys but end up ruined instead.

synopsis: ego jinpachi was a crazed man, a man who had raised a team of monsters that devoured everything on field and made their way to national team in just their early twenties. but were these men ready to be the greatest just yet? were they ready to leave behind dirty temptations and sickening thoughts just to be the greatest? good thing he knew just the person to test them. pairing: afab!reader x multiple men [aged up isagi yoichi, rin itoshi, hyoma chigiri, meguru bachira, rensuke kunigami, nagi seishiro, reo mikage.] // every character gets a separate drabble with the same character (reader.) and it's implied that the reader has slept with them all. cw: DEAD DOVE, DO NOT EAT. [this means the story contains themes one may not be comfortable with. if you find yourself growing uncomfortable, please click away.] NOT PROOFREAD. WRITTEN DURING A DELUSIONAL PHASE. MDNI. girl don't. nsfw concludes: penetration, doin' it raw, cunnilingus, blowjob, teasing, nicknames, slight bimbofication and teasing, overstimulation, praise, marathon sex. please read it whole or i'll hunt you. pretty please :) m.list [part 02]

"you know what to do." the man nodded once, not even sending a fleeting glance your way as he casually leaned back into his chair, "just try to break them."

"i don't have to try, ego. just say the word and i would have already gotten them wrapped 'round my finger."

"that delusional?" the man enquired and you didn't miss the sharp glint in his eyes behind those rimmed glasses. all you could do was smile, "that confident. but—" your words drawled on, fingers clasping over the mahogany table, "what do i get from this?"

ego jinpachi smiled, and the sight sent shivers down spine. a cheque slid over to your side, a clear sum of one million yen printed neatly for you to claim. you stared at the piece of paper a second too long before dragging your gaze to the crazed man, "you're offering me money to ruin your players?"

"try your best." the man sat up straight, his lanky frame shifting under his usual suit, "ruin them if you can."

you knew ego jinpachi was an eccentric man, and you knew you owed him a favor from years ago. but for him to have called you, and asked you to seduce his own team before they went for championship felt crazy... even by his standards.

"why are you doing this?" you asked, nimble fingers mindlessly pulling the cheque and turning it around in your palm, "they're your team. don't you want them focused before the championship?"

"don't question me."

fair enough. after all, you were getting paid.

★player 01: isagi yoichi! ya think i don't know what i'm doing?

you had heard of the man, seen him on your television screen game after game. flowing, black hair, blue eyes with a crazed look every time he was on the field. isagi yoichi was a beast; an ever-evolving phantom that possibly haunted every footballer's nightmares. on the field, he was ruthless. he was the one to ruin others, and now it was finally his turn. at your hands, at that.

his hair was tousled, head tipped back and rested against the wall as weak pants slipped past his lips. his fingers were tangled into your hair as you kissed his erection, all sloppy from his salty pre and your lipgloss. he pulled his length out just to smear the tip against your lips, groaning at the feeling of you eagerly peeking out your tongue to tease his needy, aching dick.

all it had taken to break his resolve was to call him to your assigned room after everyone had slept, and tell him the thing as it was. no hidden games, no unkept promises. isagi yoichi was smart enough to see through any games, anyways. what was the point?

"so, ego sent you? to test me, probably." he had concluded by the time you had uttered the second sentence. you rolled your eyes, "has blue lock altered your brain chemistry to think of everything as a trap? i jus' wanna fuck, yoichi."

you saw his fist tighten as you let out honeyed syllables of his name, purposefully bunching your already short skirt upwards. even as his eyes swayed, transfixed against your soft, exposed skin, the man's tone stayed ever-so-polite, "i honestly expected better from ego. i didn't think he was a benevolent man."

"who says i am a product of his benevolence?"

"a-ah," and now the footballed panted, his fingers pulling at your roots as you bobbed up and down, taking his length deeper and deeper into your mouth with each mean, little suck.

"shit," he hissed, eyes clenching shut, "jus' like that, baby."

you felt his thighs clench under your touch, the muscle spasming all erratic as his hips bucked into your mouth. as you felt him breath heavily, you peeled yourself off of him with a lewd pop.

looking up at him, all wide-eyes and devilish smiles, yoichi looked down at you with part confusion, part impatience. "i—" his voice trembled, "i was so fuckin' close, why'd you stop?"

you pulled yourself up, cleaning your mouth with your fingers carelessly, "just cause. goodnight, isagi. you can go back to your room."

"wh-what?" the man spluttered, demeanor uncharacteristically disheveled as he took in the sight of you walking away from him, "what?"

"goodnight." you replied without even looking back, ready to cozy up in your bed and go to sleep. there was no reply from his side, and then something flipped.

"what?" his voice rasped, hands coming to close around your wrist to pull you back into himself, "you think i'll just let you walk away?"

the man turned you around, pressing your chest to the wall as your cheek came to squish against the cold, hard wall. a harsh tug had your skirt pulled upwards, has your drenched panties pulled to the side hastily and had him stuffing you full of his cock, "take it."

"sh-yoichi!" you yelped, thighs automatically parting to accommodate his mean, shallow thrusts. something in the air changed. the compliant man, ready to be ruined by you was suddenly a beast, a man who would break you just to build you up again. his voice dragged, a nimble finger coming to spread your puffy folds and toy with the wettened bud, "think you can jus' toy with me? hah," a humorless laugh left him, dick slipping in and out of you faster and faster and faster, "you thought i'll spare you?"

"ngh— y-yoichi," he pressed your face into the wall, using the pressure to drill into you, to find the spots that will undo you. your mouth fell apart, silent screams into the bricked walls as he rasped in your ear, "you just wanted to fuck right?" a harsh snap of his pelvis and you lost your balance, limply held up by his strong arms, "see? aren't i fucking you right now?"

as you stayed silent, too lost in the feeling of his tip brushing against your g-spot and a hurricane building up in your stomach, yoichi pulled your face towards his, meeting your bleary eyes with his crazed ones, "answer me."

"ye-yeah."

"feel good, huh?" his heavy breaths the only coherent sounds, accompanied by the slap of skin over skin and your stupid babbling, "y- hah yoichi, harder."

"huh?" the star player laughed, his agile finger rubbing patterns against your clit as he kept up his inhumane pace, "want more?"

he pinched your throbbing bud and you arched back into him, eyes growing teary, "ah, ngh please 'm gonna cum. mgonna— cum."

you heard the man shuffle behind you, fully expecting him to go overboard. except he didn't. pulling himself out, he left your throbbing, dripping cunt empty.

"what—" you turned around to look at your culprit only for him to slip back inside in one fluid motion, fucking you dumb again. your voice wobbled, your body falling forward and only held up by him, "shit, you feel so g-good, hah oh my god."

and then you were spasming around his dick, eyes clenching shut as he kept fucking into you through your orgasm. your stomach felt heavy, breath uneven and barely lucid as isagi emptied himself within you.

seeing you in front of him — his seed slipping out of you, your face all reddened and sweaty from his administration, beautiful — isagi yoichi was sure he had finally found another addiction, one battling even the likes of his football career and dreams of being a striker.

as he left your body and stepped back, you leaned on the wall, catching your breath. yoichi spoke up again, his words no longer formal and polite like they had started off when he had first came into your room. he was ruthless. "if you wanna get fucked dumb again, let me know."

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 02: rin itoshi! you thought this would work on me?

rin itoshi was nothing if not a fucking hard-ass. he was rude, blunt, downright cruel if you didn't fall into the small circle of people he could tolerate. he was a man with a purpose, a man with tunnel vision, and right now that vision was you bent over his desk, looking back at him with nothing but heady desire.

his strong grip held your wrists behind your back, the other hand toying with your entrance. for the activity he was doing, his voice was awfully bored, "what did you exactly think would happen once you came here?"

you tried speaking, "well—"

"—it was a rhetorical question." the man replied coolly, his eyes against yours in a heavy dance while his fingers teased your drenched cunt, "did you actually think you'd come here, and i'd fall into your little trap? ego has seriously lost his mind if he thinks this is enough to make me lose control."

"that being said," the younger itoshi hummed, finally looking down to see what a mess you were making of his table, dripping down obscenely onto the wood and coating his fingers, "i cannot lie that this is entertaining."

he had you spread out like that for however long, you couldn't even recall. but seeing how his green eyes locked onto you, how his voice slightly lost their edge as he played with you had you feeling like maybe he was losing control.

"rin," you whined, your chest arching further into the wood as you pathetically tried to move, "jus' do something. anything."

"tsk," the man husked, all disappointed as you tried to meaninglessly struggle against his vice-like grip on your wrist, "why? from the looks of it, you look like you're enjoying this a lot."

as if to emphasize, his fingers finally swept past your puffy clit, softly rubbing the nub. you threw your head backwards, a silent moan at the final contact. looking at you entranced, the man finally slipped a finger into your velvety heat, and then another immediately after.

stretching you open on his digits, rin itoshi couldn't lie he could see the appeal in you. the way your body molded to his touches, how you keened into his fleeting touches against your clit, how he almost all but buried himself within your sickly, sweet cunt.

"r-rin," you panted, eyes clenched shut, "f-faster, please."

"hm?" if you didn't know any better, you would have taken his tone as one of annoyance. dripping in boredom, he reminded you all while his digits pumped in and out of you repeatedly, "look me in the eye while you're talking to me."

"ugh," your voice shook as you forced your eyes open. looking at the raven-headed man through a shaky gaze, you tried to repeat the lewd request, "faster... please?"

as you looked back at him; eyes red, lips wobbling and body almost limp except for the jitters that shook you over and over again, rin swallowed hard. faking nonchalance was getting harder.

"let me do you one better." rin itoshi pulled out his fingers — all coated with your essence — and you whined at his action before he teased the stretched-out cunt with the tip of his aching dick, "take it all since you want it so fuckin' bad."

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 03: hyoma chigiri! gentleman in the streets, freak in them sheets!

hyoma chigiri prided himself to be a gentleman. he was always graceful, always so well-manner and proper. he was — what you considered — the easiest prey. you thought you would utter something suggestive, tie your hair and fall to your knees and he would explode right there. oh, how wrong you were.

"tired already?" his hair stuck to his forehead, long tresses half-glued to his sweaty back and half-falling over you as he caged you under him. his lean biceps flexed, his pelvic region coming in fleeting contact with your aching cunt every time he slipped his cock inside you.

you panted, words jumbling at his almost mocking tone, "chigiri plea—"

he cut you off, "please what?"

oh, how dare he act so nonchalant? especially after he had been keeping up the same tantalizing, torturous pace for the past hour. you knew the man had crazy stamina, you had seen his explosive strength as he ran the course of the field in a matter of mere seconds. but those same legs now supported his figure as he pressed your knees to your chest and rammed into you so, so slowly.

"the p-pace," you tried again and he furrowed his brow, looking so pretty hovering over you. he repeated, "what's wrong with the pace?"

"'s so slow." you hoped your weak words would do the trick but hyoma chigiri just looked at you confused, as if you were uttering an alien language. he laughed, "are you saying i'm slow? me?" shaking his head, he disapproved, "that's a bit harsh."

you whined, nails digging into his sculpted back as you tried to physically taint him into changing the pace. the reddish scars against his back ignited something within the man. he hummed, "well, since you've been so patient 'n all, i guess—"

his thrust almost took you by surprise, a gasp stuck in your throat at his sudden intensity. his pelvis met yours in a lewd grind and you keened into his touches, praying to any deity above that he just keeps up this pace.

and boy, did those deities answer.

because now you were gasping, reeling from your second orgasm, as the man above you kept going. a light layer of sheen covered you both, his hair was dripping, and you were sure that one more thrust and your body would rip open.

"c'mon," he insisted, his words now reduced to groans and stuttering moans, "gimme one more."

"no, no, no." you shook your head but a steady hand came to pull your cheeks together, forcing you to meet his eyes. the man rasped, "did i fuckin' ask? i told you i need one more."

the same hand that had been holding your face trailed downwards to toy with your neglected clit while his dick rammed against the same gooey spot within you. the pressure in your stomach rose dangerously, and you squirmed under him, screaming his name.

and then, you erupted. muscles spasming, cunt fluttering so tight around him as you screamed his name. and he came just as intensely within you, painting your insides white with his essence.

as chigiri hyoma finally caught his breath and looked down at you, at your blissful, spent expression, he almost envisioned a future where this was you and him every morning. a future where he woke you up with orgasms and candied words against your lips. ah, too bad ego was the one pulling the strings.

but dammit, was ego good at pulling strings.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 04: rensuke kunigami! over 'n over again? let's go till infinity, tonight.

rensuke kunigami knew what he wanted in his life. you knew the muscled man as someone who never stopped, never gave up, never for a second ever held back from giving it his all. so, why would he act any different with you?

you had been so sweet to him, anyways. you had waltzed into his room late at night, complimenting his strikes and offering him a massage as a small favour. now, he was returning the favor by folding you in half, ramming in 'n out, in 'n out, in 'n ou—

"—oh my god, rensuke." you gasp, your legs dangling on his muscled shoulders as he used you as a ragdoll.

his untamed hair is now a bit matted, sweat drops cascading down his neck and down his rippling abs and chest. you would follow the path of that drop shamelessly if he hadn't forced you to focus on him and only him.

rensuke kunigami was an usually reserved man. but the way you ruined him was a experiment that needed to be studied. he lost control the second you showed up in those itty-bitty top and short combo to give him a free massage. ofcourse, now he was just repaying the favour.

he didn't care that ego might be behind it, that you were just a mere distraction. more like he couldn't care as you moaned out his name and tried to buck into him, tried to match his erratic thrusts.

he was such a deranged man at your touches, losing all inhibitions and acting on his most dark thoughts because as soon as you got comfortable in one position, as soon as he saw you about to come undone, he would manhandle you and have you another way.

this position was your fourth and you were half-afraid you'd pass out before his stamina ran out. the man panted, "shi-shit, gonna come?"

"yes, please." your legs locked against his broad back, trying to force him into the position and not edge you again. and although, rensuke kunigami was a crazed man, he couldn't lie that he wanted to feel you cum on his dick. ego's scheme be damned.

"c-cum for me," he hissed, pelvis grinding into you with more and more intensity as your eyes rolled back and muscles grew tense under him. he repeated, words coming so hard to his parched throat, "cum for me. cum on me, pretty girl."

"hah shit—" your voice pitched and you saw your vision fade to black, just a violent storm inside your body that calmed down slowly as the man above you finally pulled out and spilled white all over your abdomen.

he panted, gasping for air like he had just played 6 consecutive matches, he picked up the white on his index and pushed it past your wobbling lips, looking as you accepted his taste with a sweet hum.

"fuck, baby. one last time?" he asked. but what was the point of asking as he was already slipping inside you?

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 05: meguru bachira! ah, the monster won't let me stop!

meguru bachira swore he grew up with a monster. not the scary kind, no. his was kind, his was ambitious, his was his only friend growing up. but now, as you laid before him, he realized that the monster was him.

you had grabbed his wrist after dinner, and he had grinned and teased his friends as you dragged him away. he had heard the rumors. isagi, itoshi, kunigami, chigiri — all of them seemed to have gotten a pretty little session from you. and he would be lying if he said he wasn't waiting for his turn.

sure, ego was playing with them. ego wanted to test them. but what ego didn't know was that meguru bachira was a man at your service, ready for whatever.

he had waited for his turn so long, of course, he wanted to make a good impression. maybe that's why your hands were tied to the headboard of his bed, your thighs split open on each side of his face as he lapped at you like a man ravished.

you were so sweet, and he almost grew angry at the idea of all of them having you. but right now, you were pulling at your handcuffs so desperately, you were telling him he was doing so good and that you were gonna come again.

"meg—" you cried out, hips raising in a desperate attempt only for them to be pushed down by his arms. he kept lapping at you, kept fucking you with his tongue, kept staring at your face as it contorted into one of pleasure. you cried again, trying to push him away, "meguru, too much. 's too much."

he stopped, if only for a moment. he raised his head up, looking at your disheveled state. your hair stuck to your body, your eyes crazed the same way he felt he looked chasing after the ball on the field. except, you looked more beautiful than all of his sweaty teammates combined.

you sighed with relief, "stop, megs."

"hm?" he peeked his tongue out, softly licking away at the honeyed residue on his lips, "why?"

"i'm tire— meguru!" your voice climbed several octaves higher as he ignored you and delved right where he had made a mess with your unyielding juices, cum and his spit. you cried out, tried to rattle the bed with your actions.

but those sounds did nothing but make him rut the bed harder. his sweats and bedsheet were nowhere as sweet or plush as your cunt, or your mouth. but right now, it would do. he rutted, pressing his sensitive, wet cock into the fabric like an animal in heat. he wasn't ashamed to admit that he had already came once. and how could he not with your sweet voice just above him?

"m-meguru, baby." you tried to move away, but it was no use as he actively hunt you down with his tongue. he hummed against you, his words a broken mess, "yeah, what?"

"stop, please." the overstimulation was getting too much, it was going straight from your cunt to your head and you swear you were growing dumber as he wrecked you with his sultry muscle.

"no," he stuck his tongue out, teasing your swollen clit with his tip, "the monster said i cannot stop."

and maybe meguru bachira was a sadist cause he swore he came again when you whined and he answered by eating you out even more passionately.

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 06: nagi seishiro! the only kind of hard work i wanna do.

nagi seishiro thought everything was pointless, and so very energy-consuming. he had heard about ego's new scheme, he had seen you waltz around the blue lock facilities and all he wondered was: was all that hardwork with you worth it? yes. it was.

his arms pressed your back to his chest, and you were surprised by the force as he kept you pined against him. his leg snaked against yours and you found it difficult to move. rendered useless. all you could do was lay by your side, held by his arm and with his leg between yours, opening your drenched pussy to his greedy vision.

by now, everyone knew what you were upto. a succubus. a fucking witch that came just to fill their head with filthy thoughts, and wreck their cognitive senses. and now, it was nagi seishiro's turn.

"ah, ah, ah." the man tutted, shaking his head softly and the white tresses softly caressed your neck. he buried his face into your skin, inhaling you and exhaling a soft moan even though it was you getting utterly wrecked.

he knew it would be a lot of hardwork, so, yes, nagi seishiro did cheat. he went ahead and got a vibrator. a small, bullet vibrator that did more than enough work for him.

"s-sei." you cringed at how pathetic you sounded, your own voice drowning under the buzz of the toy, and the man replied against your soft skin, "hm?"

"turn on the higher intensity s-setting." your voice sounded confident, as if you weren't already making a mess on the little, buzzing adult toy even at the second setting. nagi's fingers were drenched, the sheets underneath you probably soiled with your juices.

"oh?" the snowy-haired man repeated your words in his head, "you wan' more?"

you nodded and the man pressed a chaste kiss to your shoulder, muttering, "okay, then."

while you did expected a gradual increase in the vibration, you did not expect the intensity to go up to a 5, and then nagi slipping his erection within you immediately afterwards.

"feels good," the man muttered again, his voice so soft that you had to concentrate just to hear his little quips. nagi's hips pistoned in and out of you, a steady, jagged little rhythm that made sure he bumped against your g-spot drag after drag.

with a particularly harsh stroke, nagi stilled within your heat. his tip kept stationary against your kryptonite, and as he pressed the bullet vibrator to your clit, you felt a fire budding within you.

you thrashed against him but you were quickly reminded he was a professional player because he had a chokehold on your body. not one muscle moved without nagi's permission, and you were effectively all but in his control.

he was your puppeteer and you were the helpless, stupid doll he was playing with. he decided everything. from the pace of his strokes, to the intensity. he stopped as he pleased, and then started again. you almost grew frustrated, "sei, fuck me harder."

well, you should have given him clearer instructions. because now the snow-haired prodigy focused. his hips snapped, skin reddening by hitting against your skin and the tip of the vibrating toy placed perfectly on your swollen nub.

"oh my god," you rasped and nagi took it upon himself to fuck you toll you could not utter a word more. as you spasmed against his cock and he emptied himself within you, nagi seishiro could only ask one thing, "wan' more?"

──★ ˙🧷 ̟ !!

★player 07: reo mikage! etch me to your memory, forever.

reo mikage had all the wealth in the world. he could buy you whole if he wanted, but what was the fun in that? he wanted you to remember him. he wanted you to think of him everytime you touched yourself, everytime those wretched fucking bastards touched you.

"jus' like that," his smooth voice guided you, "go slower."

you focused on the smooth baritone of his voice, on the pretty way the syllables rang out of his mouth. you focused on his sound, because frankly, that was all you could do.

you were blindfolded, sat down on his bed and spread open for him to devour you whole.

even with all the access in the world, reo mikage didn't want anything that didn't make him work hard. so, naturally, he wanted to put on a show. he wanted to feel you follow him. he wanted to remind you who he truly was. even if ego wanted him distracted and in shambled, reo pledged to ruin ego's chess piece entirely.

"now, circle your clit." you did as you were told, pace slow and the actions well-calculated. reo smiled, a self-satisfying little thing as you followed his instructions like a lost puppy, "good girl. continue that, keep goin'."

you shook your head, already worked up with your own fingers against yourself. after being filled and defiled by each of them, just having your own fingers felt rather... bland. but as reo's voice guided you, you couldn't help but follow along.

"go faster," he instructed, his own hand falling on his hot, hard erection, "go as fast as your pathetic fucking fingers can go. yeah," he laughed, looking at how you tried to keep up the pace but faltered just a few moments in.

you felt shivers down his spine as you felt his hot breath on your inner thigh. he was so close, yet he did nothing but chant instructions, "put a finger in, and fuck yourself like it's my dick."

you tried, a helpless whine on your lip as you couldn't exactly fuck yourself as well as they could. "awh?" reo questioned, his breath so close to where you wanted it, "cannot?"

"reo, please." you tried to negotiate, still pumping a finger within yourself, "please jus' do something."

"hah," he player laughed, almost flattered at your whines, "can't. just work for it, pretty girl." he waited a moment, seeing your struggle before uttering out, "now, another finger. go on."

you put one more, and he moaned as he tugged on his own erection, "now fuck yourself open on them."

you threw your head back, finally finding some rhythm within your own digits. but as soon as you felt yourself growing hotter with your own touches, a soft hand caught your wrist and then you felt a soft, foreign kiss on your drooling cunt.

"r-reo?" you asked, taken aback by his tongue lapping at you. reo mikage hummed, his grip still tight on your wrist, "shh, just enjoy."

but there was nothing to enjoy. he stopped, making you realize his absence. "reo?" your voice grew feeble and then, you heard a deeper voice. a familiar voice. a voice that echoed against your ear, "missing me?"

rensuke kunigami?!

"huh?" you replied, confused and then a sharp smell invaded your smell. a characteristic smell. the same perfume rin itoshi always wore. and then, your heightened senses let you know that there were a lot more people in this room than you anticipated.

"told ya, didn't i?" isagi yoichi hummed, "if you ever wanted to get fucked dumb, just call us."

oh my god. what kind of a trap did ego jinpachi throw you in?

a/n: PART TWOO IS NOW UPP!! no, i will not apologize for this shit. it got me out of writers block. no, i don't take criticism. only compliments, thankyou. jokes aside, ABSOLUTELY OBSESSED WITH BLUE LOCK OMGGG. catch me writing for them day 'n night now. also, sorry if i mess up somewhere. uni started and brother, all my energy is gone. hope you like it, love ya hotties 💋💋 m.list [check out my other work mwuah]