#sure they disbanded but i can still get you into them

[exoexid]

the suyeol lore is so crazy

[hysteria-things]

BFB

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: soft dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: ever since you and nick became close, the number one rule was don’t fuck your best friend’s brother. for you (and matt), rules are meant to be broken.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, slight hair pulling, p in v, praising, getting caught

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 697

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: switched it up a teeny bit.

this song has NOTHING to do with this fic but it’s the first thing that came to mind when i got this request LMAOOO

for @idrc383 :)

the somerville high school volleyball team won the first set, the timer on the scoreboard counting down three minutes until the next one started. you are on that team.

the coach throws positives about how you guys are playing, sipping your water out of your water bottle before he disbands the team circle.

as you wait, you check your phone to see a text message from the one and only matt sturniolo.

nick, his brother, is your best friend. you feel guilty because the thing nick nags you about most is to not get involved with his brothers. you didn’t listen and have been hooking up with matt behind his back.

you look at the bleachers across from you, seeing nick talking to chris and nate. matt, however, is staring at you. a smirk is on his face as he points to his phone, indicating for you to check your phone.

the original plan for today was to hang out with the triplets after the game (that you won), so it’s not suspicious that you’re at their house. still dressed in your jersey, but the shorts are now sweatpants.

it's late now, around 9 PM, and nick’s passed out on the couch. the movie you guys were watching still plays, but you couldn’t care less about it. chris is in the bathroom, doing god knows what since he’s been in there for ten minutes.

you’re next to matt on the couch. he moves closer to you to talk in your ear. “my room?”

you bite your lip, he gets off the couch and takes your hand so he can lead you quickly and quietly.

your ass slaps against matt’s thighs each time you plop yourself on his dick, your palms gently resting on his legs. your back is facing him, and you're bouncing nonstop. one of his hands is on your mouth to muffle your moans and whimpers, while the other one is wrapped around your ponytail.

he pulls your head back, not to where it hurts, but to rest on his shoulder. this action makes your back arch, his cock hitting a new angle. you moan loudly, causing him to tug your hair harder.

“even with your mouth covered you still can’t control yourself, huh?”

“f-feels so good.” you stammer into his hand, your eyes rolling back when he hits your g-spot.

the feeling makes you bounce even harder, matt’s chuckle tickles your neck. “my good girl— shit, you’re clenching tight. you going to be a good girl and cum for me?”

“y-yes. i-i’ll be a good girl,” you whine. you’re so focused on staying quiet and the ecstasy that you guys don’t listen in on the voices outside of his door.

nick stands just a few inches away from the bedroom in the hallway, chris stopping in his tracks since his brother is in the way. “have you seen y/n? did she leave?”

chris glances at matt’s closed door. “she’s in there.” he tilts his head to the room.

nick’s unamused. “seriously, chris. where is she?”

“in there.” he repeats with a sad expression on his face. “she and matt are in there. i saw them go in after i got out of the bathroom.”

“what?”

your hips grind as you get down from your high, matt now softy thrusting up into you to get to his orgasm. you look at him with glassy eyes, leaning to kiss you passionately.

the door slams against the wall, scaring the both of you. you scurry off of his lap and onto the bed. “what the fuck?” nick says sternly.

he and chris are standing in the doorway, nick looks infuriated and chris is cringing at the sight. matt makes sure to cover you before covering himself with his clothes by laying them on his lap.

“hey guys,” he says nonchalantly.

your face is red, trying to hide yourself under the covers. how can matt be so calm about this?

you just know that you broke nick’s trust. the one rule he gave you. of course you had to be selfish and let your feelings be more important than your friendship.

don’t. fuck. your best friend’s. brother.

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @idkhowtosleep @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree

[deadsetobsessions]

I would love to read more of your desecrated Grave AU if that isn't to much trouble?

Tbh, it was supposed to be a one time thing but I can give it another go :))

——

Zatanna's dealt with everything from demons to gods, eldritch horrors to cute little puppies. It says a lot, in her opinion, that the GIW managed to invoke such a response of recoiling horror in her.

The magician took in the blood and ectoplasm splattered walls, the writhing reanimated organism that came from exposure to said ectoplasm, and most damningly, the stacks of cracked and broken headstones piled in the corner of the room.

"Peek ruoy part tuhs!" she snarled, hands thrown out at the whimpering and beaten GIW agents. Her magic activated and sealed their voice boxes shut.

In the sudden silence, Zatanna walked to the stacked gravestones. She placed a hand upon the top most one and uttered a heart-broken apology, wondering how many ghosts perished.

"I'll bring you back to Phantom," she promised them. "Eb derots."

The gravestones vanished into her storage space, ready to be taken out when she willed them to be.

"Zatanna, everything finished?" Black Canary walked in, casting a disdainful glance at the agents. "You okay?"

"I can feel... there was much suffering here. They were supposed to be- dying was supposed to grant them peace. Not. Not this."

"We'll make sure it never happens again. The GIW is getting disbanded as we speak."

Their comms buzzed.

"Zatanna, the U.N. is requesting the presence of the ghost king in order to make amends." Batman said.

"Tell them he's going to be busy grieving the massacre of his people, committed by a branch of their government. We'll be damn lucky if he doesn't start a war over this, Batman. He'd be well within his rights to. It's bad."

"I'll hold them off."

"We're wrapping up on our end."

"Copy."

Zatanna turned to the scientists and agents and intoned "Eb devom edistuo!"

"C'mon Zee, let's go." Black Canary made sure she was out of the way before screaming, unleashing a wave of sound that shattered and crumbled the glass and walls of the facility.

"Fuck the government." Zatanna mumbled. How was she supposed to tell Phantom about the gravestones?

----

Phantom floated, the lost look on the young boy's face pulling at their hearts as his hands hovered above the broken gravestones, not daring to touch them.

"So many..." he whispered. Zatanna could do nothing but offer a nod, jaw clenched and eyes burning with fury and grief.

Phantom looked up at her. "Thank you, Zatanna, for bringing them back to us."

"It was the least we could do." Zatanna replied, and something about her voice must have resonated with Phantom because his apathetic façade broke and suddenly, Zatanna had an armful of a grieving, wailing ghost child. Her magic shielded her, but the glass began breaking at his ghostly wail. Still, Zatanna could tell he was holding back in attempt to not kill them all via the vacuum of space.

"Dleihs eht rewothctaw!" She quickly chanted. "Go ahead, you won't hurt us. I've shielded the place."

The glass stopped cracking and Phantom, no longer worried about killing her, screamed against her shoulder.

"Why?! WHAT CRIMES DID WE COMMIT BY DYING?! IT WASN'T ENOUGH TO SUFFER WHEN WE DIED?! WHY?!"

----

[ooooo-mcyt]

I'm sure I've said this before but Grian has never betrayed anyone.

He was Scar's teammate until the Cactus Ring and that was a fair fight they both agreed to the terms of.

He killed Jimmy and Mumbo in Last Life but that was AFTER the Southlands pretty much disbanded and they attacked him first so clearly they weren't still teamed.

He stayed with Scar through all of Double Life too, and him accidentally getting himself killed isn't a 'betrayal' of his partner. You could say he betrayed Bigb but I don't think he intentionally thought through killing Bigb as you can see from how awful he feels about it.

He outlived Jimmy and Joel in Limited Life while being their teammate the entire time, he didn't betray them, he wasn't the one who killed them.

He stuck with Cleo and Etho the same way in Secret Life, he happened to outlive them, but he didn't kill or betray them.

Grian's not a traitor, he's never betrayed a long term teammate. He's also not a "team killer", the only one he intentionally killed while teamed with was Scar in the cactus ring.

Sure, Grian does have a habit of outliving everyone he loves. Sometimes he kills them because he has to, sometimes the team falls apart, sometimes they just die.

But Grian doesn't kill his teammates half as often as people suggest, and he certainly doesn't make a habit of betraying them.

[cranberryjuice-posts]

Readin between the lines

Pairings - Clarisse La rue x Fem! Daughter of Hecate Reader

Synopis- both you and clarisse like eachother but Your both to stuborn to admit it

An - HAPPY VALENTINES DAY — THIS IS RUSHED IM SRY 😭😭

You knew clarisse liked you. It was obvious. How she flirted with you, how touchy clarisse was when anyone else seemed to show any interest in you. The fact you two have kissed before didnt help either, but this girl still refuses to tell you she loved you.

And it just so happened your just as bad. Clarisse would lay awake at night regretfully thinking about you and about you and your antics. You wore shorts that showed off your ass just for you to tease her with them. How you would make flirty remarks while clarisse worked out or how you would complain about how hot it was down at the lake while wearing a bikini you knew the girl liked. But you refused to tell clarisse how you liked her.

That seemed to be your relationship a constant back and forth neither girls wanting to admit they liked each-other but sure as hell getting pissed off if either entertained the idea of another girl.

——

“Oh you big baby I bet it’s not even that heavy” you teased leaning back on the bench you sat on. Clarisse dropped a heavy weight on the ground looking over at you. “Oh yeah?” She smiled sarcastically “why don’t you come over here and lift them then”

You rolled your eyes, standing up you walked over towards clarisse. Grabbing the heavy weight with both of your hands you still struggled to lift it.

After a few seconds you dropped it down stumbling back into clarisse. “Not that heavy right?”

“Shut up” You laughed looking up at the girl, smiling as she hugged you from behind with her leaning down coming closer to you.

About to kiss the scene was disrupted as silena entered the arena. “Hey Lise, Chiron wants you both” she chuckled dragging her finger between you two “for a meeting or something dont be late Yeah”

The daughter of Aphrodite gave clarisse a teasing Look making the girl sigh annoyingly. “Whatever could silena be implying clarisse” You joked

“You know not everything has to have an underlying meaning” she looked down at you, smiling you leaned into her more letting your lips graze one another’s. “Yeah but where’s the fun in that” kissing her quickly, you grabbed clarisses hand and started to lead her towards the big house

Gods you were going to be the end of her

——

“Ladies, thank you for coming and meeting us today” Chiron nodded towards you and clarisse as you entered the patio.

Mr. D grunted not bothering to look up from his cards. Chiron looked over at him with a look of dissapointment before facing you two once again. “So why did you need to see us” clarisse shifted around slightly before crossing her arms.

“Well as you know the summer is about to start, and while quest have not been given in the recent years I am in need of you two to find something for me” Chiron held is hands infront of him as he spoke. You didn’t look up but you could tell by how clarisses breath changed that she was more than excited to take this quest. “In flordia, towards Venus beach you will find an abandoned fair grounds, built many years ago by one of Mr.Ds here cults. After a large org—“

“Bascially the cult disbanded and I left a very important kantharos there and I want it back!” Mr.D sat up annoyed by the entire situation. Chiron rubbed his eyes in the gods childlike display. “Essentially girls we have chosen you two for this quest because clarisse your talent in battle and y/n your talent with magic and connection with the spiritual world, these are both traits you will need in completing this quest”

“Do you accept the damn quest or not” Dionysius sighed opening a new can of Diet Coke

You looked up at clarisse, her following suit and looking down at you. Nodding you faced Chiron once again. “We accept”

———

Sitting in the train station you smiled as clarisse tapped her leg. Finally the girl snapped groaning and standing up. “This is boring— the train won’t be here for another hour can we please go do something”

“And what are we gonna do?” You hummed, continuing to read your book. Clarisse rolled her eyes “I don’t know fucking— maybe we could get some food or something”

“Are You asking me on a Date?” Turning the page you smiled as the girl infront of you continued to get more bc more annoyed. “No I’m not asking you on a date I’m hungry and I want food”

“Then go get food what do you need me for” you continued to tease the woman. Watching as she walked away flustered, it brought a sense of accomplishment towards you— mainly because you loved pissing her off

——

“Okkkkkk— ah! There it is room 256” you smiled placing your key card into the train room door. Opening it and walking inside you and clarisse both paused taking a moment to comprehend the room.

It was small, that you expected. However the design of the room you didn’t. There was a twin sized bed pressed against the wall with a small window right up against it, a matching bed right above closer to the cieling and a flimsy ladder against the wall. Some storage underneath the bottom bunk and a small table at the other end of the tiny room.

“Nice and cozy” clarisse bitterly spoke as she pushed past you into the room. Setting her stuff on the top bunk you raised an eyebrow while closing the door. “Who said you got top bunk, shouldn’t you take the bottom you know just incase we get attacked and I need someone strong to protect me” You chuckled some, leaning against the beds you reached up grabbing one of clarisses curls twirling the hair around your finger.

Clarisse however remained unamused, her right hand finding itself on your hip. “I’m sure you of all people can take care of yourself”

“Yeah but what’s the point if I have you here” flicking the curl away you leaned up like you were going to kiss her, lips brushing and the hot breath of one another grazing each others skin you smiled pulling back and handing clarisse your bag. “Put it up for me yeah? I wanna go check out the train”

“I fucking hate you”

“You’ll get over it”

——

Walking out of the shower hall you headed back to your room. Once inside you stop to take a moment to appreciate Clarisse who was doing pull ups with the bar on the top bed.

Taking in the sight of the girl in her black sports bra and red plaid shorts that coincidencly matched your plaid shorts and black tank top, the first person who came to mind was most likely silena trying to make you two match

Clarisse dropped down from where she had once been up high, she looked confused at your two matching pjs

“Silena?” You playfully asked

“Fucking silena” she complained rubbing her eyes. Shrugging your shoulders you sat down onto your bed looking up at clarisse.

After a few moments she started to go around the room grabbing a few items before setting them on her bed, “what no goodnight kiss?” You continued your teasing strike as clarisse tried to get up on her bed.

She looked down at you with a sarcastic face “really.”

“You know it’s not good romantic practice to denye a woman a kiss”

“That’s ironic coming from you”

“And your a bully, just give me a kiss” you laughed tilting your head. After a few minutes of back and forth clarisse eventually leaned down playing a kiss on your lips. It was short and flustered, you could easily tell she was nervous. But it was still cute none the less. “Happy now?”

“Jumping for joy”

Clarisse rolled her eyes “your so stupid”

——

Two days later the train pulled into its stop at Venus beach flordia, taking your bags both you and clarisse set out looking around for where ever the cult use to be.

Following a long discarded map that Chiron had given in aid on the quest, clarisse had taken the lead charting out the way.

Soon however she came to a stopping point. Grabbing her arm you looked up at the girl with concern. “Your dehydrated, common let’s get you come water”

Clarisse shook her head “no I’m fine..” she stubbornly spoke trying to keep walking

“The quest can wait you need to rest for a moment” grabbing her hand you lead her into a near by cafe.

Ordering two waters and a slice of strawberry shortcake you sat down with the tired girl passing over her drink. Watching as she gulped it down your concern soon dissipating behind you.

You knew you liked clarisse, shit you knew you loved her but for some reason telling her how you felt just.. scared you, you didn’t want to loose her as a friend but at the same time who kisses their friends.

“Dude—“ Clarisse snapped her fingers bringing you out of your head. Now drawn to her attention you watched as she explained the plan. “We’ll wait til night fall, wherever this old cult place use to be I guess was built over with a fair grounds, after some freak accident it was closed down that’s where we’re gonna find Mr.D’s cup ”

Nodding along you took mental notes of the Important stuff. “Ok.. so what we spend five hours at the fair grounds, it’s what 6pm now the sun will set in an hour so at 12 am we head back to the train station inorder to board our next train at one”

she nodded, shaking her leg on the ground you could tell she was anxious to get moving again. Anyone would be lying if they didn’t agree that clarisse was Absolutely beautiful when she was in the middle of plan making.

——

Finding the fair ground was easy, what wasn’t easy though was having to search through everything just to find one stupid cup.

At this point you had been searching for an hour with nothing to prove for it. The only thing you did find was an obscene amount of green slime? Mucus? You didnt care all you knew was that it was acidic. In a fit of disappointment you sat down on one of the horses on the carousel. Rubbing your eyes frustrated you let out a deep sigh trying to calm down.

After a moment you started to hear music play. Looking up confused you saw clarisse standing at the control pad with a smile on her face. The horses started to move up and down, moving in a circle with the broken record music in the background.

Once the ride came to an end you looked at her with a neutral face, your arms crossed.

“What? We’re at the fair we deserve to at least have some fun” she joked.

“What happened to ‘we need to focus on the quest’ ”

Clarisse rolled her eyes “I said that when we first got here, now we’re having a break so do you wanna go again” you tilted your head some with a smile. “Yeah you come ride it with me”

“Ah see I would but who would control the pannel”

The control board sparked with electricty now working on its own. Waving your fingers at clarisse you giggled knowing your magic sometimes freaked her out.

“Whatever I can do that to” she muttered. Taking a seat beside you on a different horse you both remained quiet just looking at one another.

“I use to come to the fair” clarisse sighed.

You looked over confused at the sudden confession though you weren’t complaining. “See my mom would take me every year since I was 5, she was a military officer so she wasn’t around much but she always came home for the fair. That was until I was 9… a monster attacked me and coach hedge brought me to camp.” she paused for a moment, looking up at the dark sky completly unaware how stunning she looked in the golden light. “It been years since I last saw my mom, being here it reminds me a lot of her.. but I’m glad I’m here with you” she looked back down at you.

There was this feeling in the air— almost like you both had something to say but couldn’t find the words to express it.

Just as You opened your mouth to talk the ride jerked forward coming to an abrupt stop, falling off your horse you groaned. Sitting up and rubbing your head you found clarisse kneeling over you trying to help you up. “You allright? Everything still ok”

Nodding you let your head go. “Yeah I’m fine.. the control panel probably stopped working” giving clarisse a comforting smile she calmed down some helping you up.

“Let’s Just Go find the kantharos” clarisses Guard was up once again. You let out a disappointed sigh but agreed, feeling your cheeks grow warm as the taller girl grabbed your hand

——

Time was cutting short, 10:45 pm— the entire fair grounds checked and still no damn goblet. At this point you were convinced this was a gag quest. “There’s one place we haven’t checked” Clarisse sighed crossing her arms.

“Yeah and where’s that”

“The hall of mirrors”

Your playful demeanor soon fell “I’m not going in there” you cautiously spoke.

The stronger girl chuckled. “Why are you scared?” At first she she figured it was a joke, once realizing how serious you were she changed her stance. “What’s wrong with the hall of mirrors”

“It’s common knowledge in the witchcraft world that if you face two mirrors together that evil spirits will have access to the mortal world. Being that I’m a daughter of Hecate I’m at much more risk for danger than you as a daughter of are”

“That would of been great to know before”Clarisse let out an annoyed sigh.

“Well I didnt think we We’re going to have to go inside the damned place” you bit back not appreciating her attitude

Tapping her spear trying to think of what to do, she wasn’t about to drag you into the building but knew she was screwed in there if there was a monster without your help.

After a long moment you groaned holding your head back. “Fine I’ll go if it means finding the kantharos— but don’t say I don’t do shit for you”

—

It was just like clarisse had predicted, the cup was in the middle of the maze, what she didn’t predict was a baby hydra curled up around it.

“Fuck this is a hydra nest?!” You whispered yelled in a panic. Clarisse started inching towards the monster against your better judgement making your whisper curses in Greek at her. “When I say run.. we run” she softly spoke while placing her spear on her back.

“Clarisse don’t do it i will kill you” You threatened as she reached for the kantharos. “Clarisse?!” You spoke against your teeth. The daughter of ares however ignored you, reaching down you watched as she grabbed the cup slowly itching it away from the baby hydra

“RUN!” She yelled grabbing your hand in her free one. The baby hydra quickly woke with its prize now gone.

The screeching monster started to chase you down the maze, breaking multiple mirrors in its fit of rage. You tried not to look back but you couldn’t help. “Shit clarisse look out!” You yelled, letting go of her for a moment you tapped a bracelet on your hand revealing a shield— that you may or may not of stolen from the hephatus cabin— blocking the monsters acidic bile.

That’s what it was, all the slime you found around the park it was hydra venom mentally you beat yourself up at not realizing it sooner

Dodging past multiple dead ins you started to get anxious. Every turn every pause everything felt the same. What if you weren’t moving, what if you didn’t escape. Everything flooding your mind at once you hadn’t realized clarisse practically threw you out the maze.

Taking her spear she tossed the cup to you before using her weapon to seal the metal door shut with the electricity that conducted in the tip.

Pacing back three steps clarisse kept her spear readied waiting for the door to bust down, after what seemed like eternity the monster gave up returning to its spot in the center.

Both of you relaxed immediately. Now with the cup in hand your quest was complete.. “I guess this is it, we take that back to camp and we’ll be named successful victors” she panted slightly helping you up.

“Yeah… orr we could have a little more fun while we’re here. What was that you said about ‘deserving to ride the rides’?” You teased the now flustered girl.

——

For the remaining hour you had rode every ride that you could, it was almost like a date. A date as a real couple.

Ending the night you rode the Ferris wheel with clarisse. Stopping up at the top you took a minute to appericate the view. “You know.. we would of never gotten this if it wasn’t for you” you looked back at clarisse.

“Yeah Well you were helpful in making sure the entire quest went smoothly” she chuckled holding her head down humbly.

“That’s debatable” You laughed leaning back tracing the designs on the cup. “Not really.. you always make things go smoother so it wasn’t really a shock you made this entire shit show actually tolerable”

“Oh was that a compliment clarisse” you gave a small chuckle. Looking up you noticed clarisse staring at you with a certain softness that if anyone at camp had seen it they would of denied it was clarisse.

She shrugged her shoulders some not really sure what to do. Setting the cup aside you leaned forward some. “Well, if it weren’t for you then we could of never found Mr.D’s goblet so.. if anything your the one to thank” you smiled some at her.

It was like a scene out of a movie. Clarisse learned forward bringing her face close to yours. Both of your hearts beating loudly. “I think.. I”

“Yeah” you whispered back, sure you’ve kissed multiple times before but for some reason.. this time felt different.

Pulling eachother Close you slowly kissed clarisse. Each time before it had been a quick kiss. This time however it was slower, more intimate and loving.

Her hands holding your waist with your fingers locked in her curls. The kiss breaking multiple times only to be continued not even a moment later, both of you kissing like you needed it to breathe. You figured you had imagined it, hearing an ‘i love you’ muttered somewhere in the heated scene.

Pulling back panting you looked at clarisse with blown pupiles. “I love you to” You muttered not realizing what you said until you spoke.

“Thank fucking god” clarisse tirelessly spoke before pulling you back into a kiss.

[newtthetranswriter]

Hello,

Is it possible to have a one shot about Natsu reuniting with his s/o after he left for his 1 year of training ? Like he left only a letter for them ( the same way he did for Lucy ) but his s/o is upset when he come back ( bc seriously who leave like that ) like an angst/hurt to comfort kind of one shot? Thank you !

Word Count: 3168

Paring: Natsu Dragneel x gn! Reader

Warnings: Possibly Ooc Natsu and Lucy, Canon typical violence

A/n: Hello thank you so much for requesting this. I had a lot of fun writing this so I hope you enjoy it and that it reaches your expectations. Anyway, have a great day and remember to hydrate or diedrate.

    After the fight against Tartaros I had spent a few days in the hospital to recover from the few injuries I had received during the fight. Natsu visited me on the first day checking in on me to see if I was okay, but before I could make sure he was okay he said he had something he needed to do before leaving. On day two Lucy told me that Master Makarov had decided to disband Fairy Tail. It also felt like she was hiding something else but I didn't push it.

    When I was finally free to leave on day three, I was shocked that Natsu and Happy hadn’t shown up to walk me home. I brushed it off as they were busy trying to figure out what we were going to do now that Fairy tail was no more, I made my way to our shared home. Reaching the small house on the edge of Magnolia, I was stunned by how quiet it was.

   “Natsu, Happy, I’m home.” I called out, opening the front door expecting to be greeted by one of them. “Hello, Natsu, are you guys home?” I said looking around the space. It was weirdly clean considering Natsu and Happy were known to be bad at cleaning up after themselves. Looking around some more I noticed that there was a small envelope laying on the counter. I cautiously picked up the envelope, taking note of the wax seal that was pressed with N in holding it closed. Gently breaking the seal, I pulled out the contents.

    Dear Y/n,

   Happy and I are going on a training mission. We’ll be back in a year or so. I would have asked you to come along but I know how much you like being around our friends at Fairy Tail, so I figured you would want to stay behind. Plus you’re still recovering from the fight and I need to start training soon if I want to beat Zeref. Anyway stay safe and don’t forget that I love you. Also Happy wants you to know that he left some fish for you so you don’t have to worry about getting back to work right away. Well we should be off, again stay safe, I love you and I’ll see you in a year.

  Sincerely,

Natsu and Happy

P.s. there’s also a stash of jewel in the small box on our nightstand. Feel free to use it however you want.

  By the time I finished reading the short letter, I had tears streaming down my cheeks. Not only had the Guild I called home for most of my life just up and disbanded, but the one person who promised to be by my side no matter what, left. Not only did he leave, but he felt that a note was better than telling me to my face that he planned on leaving. I probably sat on the floor in the small makeshift kitchen for a couple hours before I decided to get up.

   As I was making my way to what used to be mine and Natsu’s shared room, there was a knock at the door. Hoping that maybe they had decided to come back for me, I wiped my eyes reaching for the door. Before I could welcome them home, I made eye contact with Lucy. Realizing it was in fact not Natsu but our close friend, I broke down in tears once again. Not being able to hold myself up, I slumped against Lucy crying into her shirt.

   “Hey it’s going to be okay.” She said softly while patting my back. “Let’s get you sitting down and then you can talk about it if you want.” The blonde said gently moving me off her chest and ushering me to sit on the small couch in my living room.

   After another hour of me crying into Lucy’s shoulder, I finally stopped and just looked forward to the empty room. “It feels wrong not having those two causing mayhem.” I whispered out as if talking any louder would break something.

   Lucy nodded as she rested her head against mine. “I know not having Natsu lighting something on fire is weird.” She said, before lifting her head off mine. “I’m sorry, I should have told you when I visited you yesterday at the hospital. I just didn’t know how.” she explained, I could tell from the shakiness of her voice that she meant it.

   “It’s not your fault Lucy, actually I’m kind of glad you didn’t tell me. I might have blamed you for it. But after reading the letter I know the only person to blame is Natsu.” I said, looking towards the letter that I apparently never set down. “I want to understand and accept that he’s going through a lot because he had to watch Igneel die, but I can’t help but be angry.” My emotions were a mess as everything set in. “He just left me with only a note and expects me to be okay with that. What am I supposed to do Lucy? Fairy Tail is done, so I won’t be able to find any work, and everyone from the guild is going to be leaving town soon so what am I supposed to do?” I asked hoping my close friend would have some answers.

   She sighed before pulling me back in for a hug. “I’m not sure Y/n, but we can figure it out. I’m sure of it.” Lucy said. It was silent for a moment before she spoke again. “Hey, why don’t you join another guild? I heard that Wendy and Carla are going to join Lamia Scale, maybe you could go with them.” She suggested.

   I thought for a moment, she was right, I could join another guild. But what would I do with my house? It's not just mine after all, it’s Natsu and Happy’s as well. I can't just sell it, and what if they come back sooner. Everything was running through my head a mile a minute. I looked to Lucy before my brain settled on a single thought. “What are you going to do?” I asked hoping that hearing her plan would help me figure out mine.

   “Oh, I was going to try and get a job with sorcerer weekly. I’ve always wanted to be a writer so maybe I could get an editing position there.” She said after a moment of thinking. 

   Taking in the information I thought for a moment, before making up my mind. “I think I’m just going to stay here for now.” I said, earning a confused look from Lucy. “I can find a job here in town and that way I’m here if Natsu and Happy come back early.” I said with a weak smile.

   She still looked confused but sighed. “If that’s what you really want, then okay Y/n. But don’t get your hopes up, I doubt Natsu would say he’ll be gone for a year if he doesn’t mean it.” She said standing up.

   “Well it’s Natsu who knows what he’s thinking. And plus someone has to keep the house clean while they’re gone. I’ll be fine, and think of it this way at least you’ll know where to find me if you ever need me.” I smiled up at her. “Promise that if you make it big working for Sorcerer Weekly that you’ll write to me and keep me updated on how things are going.” Lucy nodded, smiling before leaving. That night I barely slept, thinking about Natsu and how I hoped he was okay.

    When I woke up the next morning, I was startled by how quiet and cold the house was. But after walking out to the living room and seeing the discarded letter from Natsu on the table, I was reminded of everything that happened. I sighed before going to make myself a quick breakfast and deciding that after eating I would head into town to find work. Without Fairy Tail and without Natsu, I would have to find work soon.

    Time Skip

    It’s been a year since Fairy Tail disbanded. Which also means it’s also been a whole year since I last saw Natsu. I had stuck to what I told Lucy that night and got a job in Magnolia, staying in the house I once shared with Natsu and Happy hoping that one day they would finally return home. Lucy also kept her word and after she moved to the Capital for her job with Sorcerer Weekly, she would send letters regularly to keep me updated on her life and any information she had heard about our Fairy Tail family. Eventually as the Grand Magic Games came around, Lucy sent me an invitation saying that since she was working as a reporter for the event, she was given an extra ticket and thought I might want to watch the games. Needing a small break from Magnolia, I left for the capital ready to spend time with Lucy and see what the current top Guilds had to offer.

   The games had been interesting enough. Not as crazy as last year when Fairy Tail completely wiped the floor with the competition, but it was still fun to watch. As the final battle to decide the top guild ended, I was stunned into silence feeling a very familiar Magic start to envelope the stadium. The whole stadium followed suit as a hooded figure appeared in the arena. After a moment heat started to take over the arena and I could hear Lucy saying something about everyone needing to leave.

   Focusing on the figure and the feel of their magic I knew right away who it was. “We need to find some wizards who can fight him off.” Lucy said as the figure produced flames and began fighting the wizards in the stadium.

   “Lucy I don’t think anyone in this Stadium is going to be strong enough to fight him off.” I said as I walked up next to her, holding my arm over my face trying to block the heat. She looked at me confused. I just nodded towards the fight. “Just watch.”

   She still seemed confused but turned back to the fight. As the heat rose and the stadium began to melt I watched as realization struck Lucy. Just as she was about to say something, the announcer beat her to it. “It’s Natsu Dragneel.” Earning a massive cheer from the crowd. 

   As if on queue from the announcement, a familiar blue cat popped up between me and Lucy. “Hey, It’s been awhile. How you doing?” Hearing the exceed’s voice I turned and offered a small smile. 

   Lucy also turned to our flying friend. “Happy, you’re back.” She exclaimed, still covering her chest after Natsu’s heat melted her clothes.

   “Yeah, well Natsu insisted on challenging whoever won this year’s Grand magic Game. So here we are I guess.” Happy explained.

    I nodded, turning back to the fight, or well what was supposed to be a fight but looked more like an execution. “They don’t seem to be putting up much of a fight.” I heard Lucy say as she observed the same thing as me. I watched for only a few more seconds, listening to Natsu yell as he took on random wizards who jumped into fight him, before turning to Lucy.

   “I’m gonna head back to your apartment to rest.” I said, earning a confused look from both her and Happy. “I’m just tired and it’s super hot right now. It was nice seeing you Happy.” I explained as I walked away giving a gentle wave towards Happy. 

   As I walked away I heard Happy begin to follow me. “Wait Y/n, don’t you want to say hi to Natsu?” I paused in my trek out of the stadium. He wasn’t wrong. I did want to say hi to Natsu, but actually seeing him for the first time in a year all my emotions i thought I suppressed came rushing back.

  “Look Happy, I’m glad to see that you both are ok but I can’t see him. Not right now. I need to take some time and gather my thoughts.” I said looking at the cat. I watched as his face dropped. “Hey don’t be sad, you’re Happy you should be happy. I’ll talk to him later. You guys have fun with Lucy.” I offered him a gentle smile.

   He looked off to the side before sighing. “Okay, but we did miss you while we were gone.” He said as he gave me a quick hug. I returned the hug patting his head before waving him off and moving to leave the stadium.

   After I reached Lucy’s apartment, I realized I would only have a short period of time to process everything before Lucy came back and Natsu would definitely be with her. I sighed before deideng that I would go for a walk to clear my head. Quickly writing a note on a spare piece of paper saying I would be back later, I left the apartment again.

   I had been walking around the city for quite a few hours just thinking of how to deal with Natsu being back. Sure I was happy that he was okay and that he came back but the hurt from him leaving felt fresh. Taking a seat on one of the many little bridges that dotted the town, I sighed watching the water. I thought I had finally found a quiet place to work out my emotions, but before I could really start thinking, I heard footsteps approach from the side.

  “You’re avoiding me.” I froze up at the sound of his voice. “Why?” Natsu asked as he sat next to me. Refusing to look at him, I shook my head. “Don’t lie to me Y/n, I could smell you at the stadium, and then at Lucy’s apartment. Plus Happy said that you needed to gather your thoughts, whatever that means.”

   My shoulders sagged as I sighed. “I’m sorry. I just got scared, I guess.” I said not knowing what else to say.

   I could feel the bewildered look he was giving me without even looking at him. “Scared, of what? It’s just me. I’m the same guy I’ve always been.” He said as if it was the most obvious answer. Sensing that I still wasn’t ready to talk he sighed. “I should be the one apologizing. I left without talking to you first and that was terrible. I didn’t think that Gramps would disband the guild so I figured you would still have everyone in Fairy Tail to lean on. I was so focused on getting stronger and fighting Zeref that I failed to see I was being a shitty friend and an even shittier boyfriend.” Natsu said, hesitantly reaching for my hand. “I’m sorry that I left like that. Please let me make it up to you. I’ll do whatever you want me to just please don’t leave me.” Hearing the hurt in his voice, I finally looked at him.

   It was rare to see Natsu cry and so seeing the tears gently fall down his face startled me. I wanted to just cave and accept his apology and let things go back to the way they were, but I needed to say my piece. “I agree you were a shitty friend and a shitty boyfriend. I was already hurt physically from fighting Tartaros, then Lucy told me the Guild broke up and to top it off when I got home all I was greeted with was a letter. I was broken, I thought I wasn’t good enough, that the reason you didn’t bother to wait for me to heal was because you figured I’d just hold you back.” I began venting out the feelings I had kept bottled up for the past year. “Natsu I waited for you everyday. I woke up hoping that it was all just a dream and that you and Happy would be there arguing over whether or not fish should be cooked. And it broke me to live in our little house all alone, it took everything in me not to abandon it and move on.” I watched his face fall even more at the idea of me leaving our shared home. “But every time I got close to giving in to my dark thoughts and leaving, I remembered that you were out there somewhere and you would need somewhere to return to.” I explained, watching as his face slowly lightened up. 

   Taking a moment to breathe, I thought about what else I need to say. “I’m not saying we can go back to exactly how it was before, but I would be ok with trying again. Just promise that if you want to go on an extended training mission again, you talk with me first. And I mean actually talk to me, not just leave a letter saying you’ll be back in a year.” I said, giving him a pointed look. 

   And like magic, Natsu went from a hurt puppy dog to a puppy that was just given his favorite toy back. “I promise. I’ve missed you so much, I regretted leaving you behind every day I was gone.” He said with a bright smile. “Can I hug you now?” I laughed at the question, but nodded. I was quickly pulled into his arms, and I couldn’t help but sigh as I was enveloped by the familiar gentle smell of smoke that always lingered on him. “I really did miss you.” I heard him say as he buried his face in my neck.

   Patting his back and nuzzling into his scarf, I let out a small sound of agreement. After spending a few minutes in Natsu’s arms, I finally pulled away as a question suddenly struck me. “How did you find me all the way out here? We’re nowhere near Lucy’s apartment.” I asked.

   He tilted his head for a second before speaking. “I followed your scent, obviously. When we got back to her place and Lucy read your note, I wanted to head out right away, but her and Happy made me wait to give you time to think.” He explained like it was obvious. “Speaking of Lucy’s place, do you know the way back cause I have no clue where we are.” He asked.

   I laughed, of course he was able to track my scent after hours of me walking around but ask him to find a specific apartment in the big city and he draws a blank. “Yes, Natsu, I know the way back. Let’s go before Lucy and Happy start thinking I killed you or something.” Natsu laughed in response before offering his hand to help me stand up. Once I was standing he pulled me into another hug, placing a kiss on my forehead before pulling away and motioned for me to lead the way.

[chronically-ghosted]

in another life . . .

rating: explicit, 18+

pairing: frankie morales x f!reader

word count: 7K

summary: Partner. That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. And then he met you and the definition changed again.

warnings: domestic!frankie, marriage kink (if that’s a thing), oral (f receiving) but i think that’s an expectation from every frankie fic, improper use of a kitchen table, unprotected piv, no use of y/n, brief mentions of PTSD, improper use of Spanish, eating in bed 

a/n: requested for my 100 followers event! Anon: hiiii firstly! congrats on the big one hundo you totally deserve it 🥂‼️ secondly wondering if I could rq a Pedro boy drabble with prompt number 12... I wanna do laundry for Frankie Morales :D “did you just wash these sheets?” “I did.” “they smell nice. and they’re still warm.”

🤍Masterlist

. . . I would have really liked just doing laundry and taxes with you.

Frankie fills the silence of the house without you in it with music. This house, it had been your choice, even though he never expressly made you choose, or even presented the dichotomy. This house, with its leaky faucet and janky AC unit and finicky pilot light, was what you wanted instead of a diamond ring, and so he gave it to you. First down payment, along with every other red cent you and he had both saved up, went into buying your first home together. This wasn’t forever, you both agreed (with only two bedrooms it wasn’t enough room for a baby, he often thought) but even as the real estate agent glanced around with disdain for the house and your budget, one look from you and it was settled. 

“It has good bones,” you said, standing out on the concrete deck overlooking a postage-stamp-sized backyard. There were weeds in the corners and holes from some unknown animal but he could see the wheels in your head turning, imagining how you, like everything else you did, planned to tackle and wrestle control over it with your bare hands. “It needs work, but I think there’s something special here.” 

“Yeah?” he asked, threading his fingers through yours, the real estate agent no doubt off somewhere inspecting the drains. “Is there something here?”

You grinned and shoved your nose then a soft press of your lips into his denim-shoulder. 

“I’m sure of it.”

All his life, Frankie worked best in a unit. As children, his older brother, his younger brother, and him were practically inseparable, their physical similarities almost presenting as the same person but at different ages, and when that group disbanded because Oscar left for college, he went on to find another one. First, his army unit, then the boys. His boys. Left to his own devices, Frankie was terrible at remembering to eat, sleep regularly – focus on anything other than fixing cars and planes, really – but he’d do it for them. He hated to see that worried crease show up on Will’s brow when Frankie admitted he hadn’t eaten since breakfast. He hated that Benny had to show up at his apartment to drag his ass outta bed to get him into the sunlight. And he hated when Pope felt obligated to take him out to bars to try and meet women.

“I’m not dating someone just so they can be my mother,” Frankie muttered into the lip of his beer bottle. “I don’t need anyone thinking I need to rely on them like that.” 

“Yeah, but you do better when you have people relying on you.” Pope’s dark eyes flitted from a woman at the bar top to him, with intention and full of force. “And I’m not saying I’m trying to get you to fuck your mother, but you need a partner.” 

Partner. 

That word had been jammed up inside his brain for as long as he could remember. Gym-class partner, lab partner, work-out partner, partner-in-training, partner in this fucking life or death situation where we’re only going to get out alive if we trust each other more than I trust myself. 

And then he met you and the definition changed again. 

You are his best friend. You are the woman he wants to fuck every day for the rest of his life. You are the first person he wants to tell good news to and the first person he wants to talk to when he’s had a shitty day. Your voice quiets something inside him that has been far too loud for far too long. You are a relief and a refuge. For all his faults, you love him and sometimes he can’t fathom why. 

You are his partner – in life, in marriage (one day), and forever (he hopes).

“I might not always like you, Catfish,” you said to him in Will’s backyard for Benny’s birthday party. You had been drinking and every sip seems to bring you closer and closer to him. With your face tucked up into his neck, arms up under his flannel and hugging his waist, the only way he could be physically closer to you was if he was inside you – which he was about two seconds away from suggestion when you leaned in close. “‘M not always going to like you, but ‘m always going love you.”

And love him you did. You loved him when he decided to go back to school to get some additional certifications so he could maybe teach flight school. The army would pay for most of it, was a fucking relief to your shared thread-bare, cartoon-spider-web empty savings account. But what the army would not pay for was for you to go to nursing school. You worked in hotels for the events services branch, coordinating everything from weddings to conferences, walking (mostly running) from one end of the hotel to the next. Your sister got you a Fitbit for Christmas one year and after the holiday rush, you walked twenty miles in two days. 

“After that, this nursing stuff should be a breeze,” you said flippantly as you signed your paperwork for admissions. 

Of course you got accepted at one of the better hospitals in the city – he never doubted for a second you would – and as the fresh-faced trainee, you got stuck with most of the night shifts. 

Which meant his days looked a lot like this: wake up at 6AM, drive an hour to the helicopter tour building on the coast, fly rich idiots around all day, eat the lunch you had prepped for the both of you on Sunday night, continue flying rich idiots around, drive home in two-hour traffic, change into his work overalls, go work on some cars Benny’s buddy had at the local garage for some extra cash, then go home, heat up dinner you also made Sunday night, and then attend to the most pressing thing you or the house needed. 

Which could be:

Fixing the AC unit, resealing the back door so it would close properly, re-caulking the shower, building more attic space, repainting the back fence, or replacing the hand towel holder.

Frankie didn’t mind the hard work. It kept his mind and his hands busy. What he did mind was the house silent and eerily empty without you here. 

He didn’t mind the hard work because even for a few hours, he got to hold you while you slept. He got to eat with you at 10:30 at night and it was the highlight of his day.

Pay your surgeon very well to break the spell of aging

Sicker than the rest, there is no test, but this is what you're craving?

Frankie bobs his head, his earphones carefully tucked up under his shirt to prevent the laundry from tangling up in them. He hauls out the latest load and moves onto the washer, fishing out one more sock when suddenly the lights go off. All of them. Total darkness.

And then light and he’s staring down the bottom of the drum.

Then dark. And light.

You. Your code. One you designed when you read that PTSD victims are often triggered into a fight-or-flight response when startled. You, who knew before he did, how to manage the symptoms, create workarounds, and find a pathway through, instead of not at all. 

He takes out one of the earbuds and smiles.

“Hey, you’re home.” 

You lean against the doorway, smiling that smile that is reserved for him and him alone. Sometimes he’s selfish and wants everything of yours to be only for him – all your smiles, your laughter, your sighs – but that’s like trying to capture sunlight in a butterfly net: too focused on the impossible and you end up missing the daytime. 

“How goes this fucking Sysphian task?” You nod at the baskets of laundry at his feet, referring to how you’d often rant and rave about how laundry, the dishes, and grocery shopping were never tasks that could simply be done. He knows how much you hate being unable to cross things off your to-do lists, so he holds your hand during all of these rantings and kisses your knuckles when you take a breath. 

“Good,” he shrugs. “‘Bout to fold your scrubs for tomorrow.”

“Ah, have I told you lately that I love you?” You swing into the room and kiss him on his cheek, on the division where his patchy beard meets his skin – the place that you most often claimed on him. Your fingers squeeze around his bicep as you pull away and your eyes fall to the basket behind him. You gasp with glee. 

“Did you just wash these sheets?” You ask like you’d just uncovered buried gold. 

He smirks, propping his hip up against the dryer. “I did.” 

Without another word, you scoop them up in your arms and inhale sharply.

“Mhmm, they smell nice.” You bury your head in deep. “And they’re still warm.”

In the rare moments when you’re both home and going through laundry together, he never fails to scoop up a load of hot towels and dump them over your head, relishing in the girlish giggle from beneath the clean laundry. “It’s so toasty,” you whimper with glee. 

“They’re not gonna be if you get your hospital gunk all over them,” Frankie tuts, going back to add a new load into the washer as you glare at him over the lump of sheets. 

“Ha, ha. Move over, Mr. Morales, and watch a master at work.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Morales.” It’s stupid but his heart always fumbles when he calls you that. It started as a joke, one that you initiated, but now it’s like berry jam on his tongue, sweet and sugary. He’s thought about calling you that while he’s inside you but figures he should save something for the wedding night. 

He sidles back, giving you space near the dryer as you pick up a basket of t-shirts.

“You know there’s dinner waiting for you in the kitchen.” He shakes his head as you begin to fold the shirts with lightning speed and precision – a side effect of being the oldest daughter in a family of five kids. 

“Yeah, but you’re in here,” you say and bump his hip. He bumps you back and helps with the load. “Besides, it’ll get done faster with two people.”

He can’t exactly argue with that, so he lets the silence grow. But it’s not silence, not really. In the distance, dogs bark. Outside the room, the temperamental AC grumbles, a sound he never thought he’d come to appreciate. Inside the room, fingers tug at fabric, the soft thump as the shirts grow into a continuous pile. Then there’s you, breathing in the lilac-scented air, the scent of his deodorant and sweat and something entirely unique to him– his Frankie-ness as you’ve called it many times without elaborating. I’d bottle it if I could, you told him, bathe in it. You’re kinda weird, he told you, and you know he likes it. 

Every once in a while, his elbow brushes up against yours, yours skirting around his, but never colliding, an awareness of the other always present and attended to, a flow of familiarity and recognition he’s never felt before or known since. 

Bit by bit, you’ve taken pieces of him into you, picked them up, held them to the light and found them beautiful, until a second bit of his soul lives outside of his body. He knows every inch of you, how every atom calls out to him, begs to be close to him, and held tight. It’s not sunlight he’s trying to keep safe, it’s your heart. Your precious, wonderful heart that is somehow so full, it was enough to fill him up too. Gold filling in the cracks. 

Kintsugi, Benny called it, when he got obsessed with anime for three months that one time two years ago. Frankie never could remember the actual name, and maybe that wasn’t the point and maybe it was a little ridiculous, especially when it was explained by a deliriously drunk and bleary-eyed Ben Miller at one in the morning on his brother’s lawn chair. 

Maybe a better way of thinking about it was how separate, disparate, jagged and raw edges came to fit together. How someone like him got a do-over, another chance to be remade in the kiln, and how someone like you was allowed to love unselfishly, to ask for things and never be threatened with reparations of some kind – as if loving you deserved some sort of compensation. 

Pieces, broken and scattered – he looked up and saw you carrying yours, and you witnessed the scars and blood dripping from the shards of his own past, his life, his love, and despite how slippery his pieces were, how dried and empty and wanting yours were, something pulled them together and made them stay. 

Something stronger than light.

Stronger than gold. 

You shook his hand and looked at what you built together, the pieces that came together, and in the end, that was your partnership. A creation of something greater – home, family, love. 

So much fucking love.

In the end, Frankie Morales used love to build his life, not death, and you’re the one who gave it to him.

He drops the last shirt on the stack and he turns, his fingers seeking the drawstring of your pants. 

You know what he wants. You want it too. A singular desire in two separate bodies.

The inherent closeness of domesticity draws you into him, closing the already limited space as hands find waists and lips find skin. He drags his nose against your jaw, somehow already shaking, his teeth grazing your throat, unwilling and unable to press his lips to you, wanting to drag this out as much as possible. He squeezes your hips, thumbs flipping under your shirt to touch, touch, touch, until his fingers wrap around your ribs and you make your first sound of the night. It snags at his restraint, pulling it threadbare. 

“Frankie,” you sigh and he cannot fight the cataclysmic pull towards you – he stumbles, pinning you to the laundry room wall, his tongue cupping your earlobe into his mouth and he sucks. The next noise you make is high and keening and it turns his touch frantic.

Caught between the wall and his broad shoulders, he does with you what he wants. He nips at your cheek, your neck, the dip of your clavicle, as his thumb presses up each knot of your spine, drawing out the tension from your body like draining poisoned blood, and by the time he pinches off your bra, you’re all but hanging onto him. 

“Baby–,” 

He can hear you say, it’s late, we have work in the morning, you don’t have to do this,

I’m not worth this 

With a low growl that is all possession, all anger that someone ever made you feel like your love was too much, he tugs your shirt off, knocking his hat off as he goes. In the drift, he sees your eyes flutter, mouth twisted in pleasure and guilt – you don’t want to be asking for things like this – and so he silences every doubt, every worry that he’s tired or it’s too late or his knees are aching too much to make you feel the way you deserve – he kisses you with enough force to knock out every unpleasant thought you’ve ever had about yourself and flattens you against the wall. 

You let him pry you open, his touch fervent and insistent, tasting of iced coffee and gum. He licks into you, telling you things with his tongue, the way he tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, in the soft puff of breath that escapes him when you cup the back of his neck. Closer, he begs, closer. 

His wide palm arching your lower back into him, he squeezes your ribs, up under your breast, before finally taking your nipple between his thumb and the meat of his hand and twists, just enough to make you break apart from his demanding mouth, gasping as if tapped by a live wire. But it’s him who is electrocuted, who catches fire, who wants to be chewed down and swallowed up. He shuffles and pulls you into him, the throbbing in his pants bordering on painful. He rubs himself against you once and you sigh like you know he hurts. You nod.

Your fingers peel your shirt up and over your head as he cups one thigh then the other until your hips hug his waist, smearing the hem of his shirt up over his skin. He feels the heat coming from between your legs, the slight dampness, against his lower belly and he groans, low, right near that source of warmth he wants to die in. 

You curl above him, tipping his head back, as you dive into his mouth again, fingers twisting into his hair, thumbs brushing his temple right where you know he tends to get headaches. Your tongue brushes against his upper lip, tasting his mustache, and his knees threaten to buckle. 

“You’re gonna fucking kill me,” he laments, he praises, into the supple wetness of your tongue. You nod, pleased, and press your chest into him. He cannot fucking wait to get his mouth around your tits.

Mouth sealed to yours, hands cupping the meat of your ass, Frankie works entirely on sense memory to carry you into the kitchen, to a long wooden table beneath a wide window, white curtains closed and blinds shut. 

This table had been one of the first purchases for the new house. Tan cedar boards with white knobby legs, it instantly reminded him of the one in his own childhood home, where he and his brothers fought over meals and did homework together. Where he held his mom after his father died and where he dropped his bag after coming home from a life too long spent fighting other people’s wars. 

This table mattered to him and he’d be damned if it wouldn’t mean something to his own child one day. 

That was something you too wanted to give your child, never having a table like this in your own life. You loved the stories he told about the table in his kitchen. How much it meant to him.

And now he was going to fuck you on it, this symbol of stability.

He just wonders how stable it really is. 

His fingers clutching the back of your neck, arm running in tandem with your spine, he lowers you down, shifting your weight onto his arm so you don’t bump your head against the wood. He releases you but you protest, a muffled uh-uh, as he tries retreating. You loop your arms around his neck, tugging him flat against you and he feels your breasts mold against his chest, nipples already tight.

“Baby,” he breathes, sucking up and out of your mouth, “let me make you feel good.”

Behind him, he hears your sneakers clatter to the floor, your heels digging into his back as you toe off your shoes, and you shake your head. 

“I am.” Kiss. A thumb under his bottom lip. “You do.” Breathless, reverent, grateful. 

Grateful.

Grateful that he is kissing you. 

Not good enough. God, he’s going to eat that self-loathing right out of you. 

You whine, frustrated and hot, as he pulls back. He wants to go right for your pussy, but stutters at the sight of your unmarked tits. Smooth, flushed, heaving. There is no part of you he does not love, does not feel the need to worship on his knees. 

But suddenly sour shame strikes him as he realizes enough time has passed since the last time you’d had sex for the hickeys to heal. He intends to amend that right now. 

His thumbs rubbing soothing circles into your hips, to calm himself, he folds himself over you, dribbling kisses along your throat, over the wings of your clavicle, at the barest incline at the top of your breast, and then to the meat of your tit, the heaviness, the sway, and he bites down. Predictably, you yelp, nails scratching roughly into his scalp and that only makes him suck harder. You have very strict rules around where he can mark you, but on the places he can – oh, you beg him for it. 

He palms your other tit, just to feel the goosebumps break out across your skin, to roll your nipple with the calluses on his palm. His teeth release, his tongue laving over that already pink and swollen skin, and he glances up, his other thumb coming to massage that fragile patch. 

Being a pilot, a soldier, a brother, a son, those are the things he is. But Frankie lives – aches, pines, desires – to watch you come apart. 

The purple bruise on your tit shining like a luxurious necklace, your eyes flutter open when you feel him pull up. Your fingers around his ears, your chest wet with his spit, you let him take you in. You give him this, because you know you’re about to get so much more. With your legs still wrapped around his waist, he can feel the soft cant of your hips, the quiet, patient begging, as you thought he needed reminding that you needed this. You rub up him, knees pinned to his ribs, and he lets you pull him into your mouth, grounding him. This kiss is brief, soft, a far cry from the tearing and biting that got you onto the table. Knowing exactly the state you need to be in to ask for what you want, he holds your jaw, thumb against the apple of your cheek and he slips his tongue out of your mouth. Again a protest, an instinctual reaction to the repeated pattern of abandonment, but like all cries for help, he quiets your squirming by sliding his thumb between your lips. 

“Suck,” he murmurs gently. Your eyes flutter shut, your nails carving half moons into his forearm, lips creating a vacuum seal around his knuckle and you obey – you suck – and he rewards you with a trail of kisses across your sternum, over your breasts, to the soft swell of your stomach. He nuzzles your belly button and you groan, eyes still shut and his thumb still in your mouth. He bites, softer than before, just above the thatch of hair and you whine around his finger, body going supple for him. He slides his thumb out, dragging a shiny string of spit over your plush lips, down your chin, joining his other hand at the waist band of both your panties and your scrubs. 

Any fast movement will awaken that anxious, overthinking, beautiful brain of yours, now that he has it fuzzy and unfocused, so he keeps kissing, keeps sucking and biting, that spot just above your curls. He tongues your hip, and then the other side, your bottom half wonderfully bare before you can open your eyes. 

His shoulder bumps the back of your thigh as he stands up right, inhaling the sweat behind your knee, the pungent tang of your glistening curls, your almond butter body lotion. It’s hunger, he feels, but not a tangible hunger, one that can be so easily satiated. It’s not painful, or weakening – no, he is made stronger by it. He feels your blood pulse beneath his hand on your inner thigh as he opens you up and he’s made better by it. 

He kneels, a holy servant before the divine meal of their goddess, on shitty linoleum beneath harsh lights in a kitchen he can barely afford. 

Frankie takes your hand, kisses your knuckles, and slides your grip into his hair. 

“Recuérdame cómo te gusta, nena.” 

He eats. He consumes. He licks. He sucks. He slurps.

He tastes your dripping wetness on the seam of your cunt, before his tongue ever gets the chance to explore, to open, to divulge. He licks until he feels your breath hitch – a curse in the shape of his name, as if he needs scolding for making you feel so good – and then he opens his jaw and tongues your hole. 

In a lust-drunk haze you once told him he has something better than DSL – he has a pussy-eating nose. He prods you with that nose you can’t seem to get enough of, licking in as far as he can, coating himself in everything as it leaks out of you, and he moans as he can feel it on his chin. You vibrate with the sound and above him, your fingers clench down into his hair. 

“Oh, fuck, holy – fuck, Frankie–,” your trembling shakes the bowl of your hips, spilling his meal, so he sucks your clit in a way that makes your body freeze and then melt. You go limp, pliable, and gushing. He gets a few more moments of twisting and sucking and swallowing, until by the third time he puts his lips around your clit, you open-mouth whine and it’s like his body violently remembers he has a cock. He is seized with such a need to fuck you in this warm, wet place he’s dug out with his tongue, he doubles over and rests his teeth against your thigh. 

“Frankie, I’m so close,” you writhe, chest flushed and brow sweaty. 

Before you, he never knew sex could feel like this, could do this. Sure, he used sex to keep away those circling, vulture-like thoughts from time to time. But this, this drawing out and unthreading, unspooling, of himself and someone else, tearing at ego-drenched threads until all that was left was a being of pure want and desire – he didn’t know this was possible. 

He didn’t know he could feel like this.

One more broad lick, coating everything in what he hope fucking smells like him, and you arch, thighs shaking, his hair in danger of being ripped from his scalp. You gasp as you flatten, the first orgasm of the night rolling through you, sweat making your skin salty, as though you had been breached by the ocean. 

He laps you through it, of course, a nascent smirk on his face. 

You open your eyes to this self-satisfied Frankie, eyes only visible over the top of your cunt, and you whine. 

You reach for him and he goes, smearing your slick over your face, offering it to you in supplication on his tongue. He tastes your rising desperation, the way you sharpen your teeth against his lips, batter his tongue into the corner of his mouth, try to claim what your cunt already has. His hunger is an infection and your fever has reached a boiling point. 

Your trembling fingers curl his shirt up his back, passing over the ruddy scar on his shoulder where he got hit with a stray bullet, the jagged white line over his ribs where a knife nearly split him open. He used to only fuck with his shirt on. He doesn’t now. 

His shirt crumples to the floor as he sits up, you following, eyes dark, and you bite his pec muscle, your love for him twisting you into an anthropophagist. You want to consume him, like your pussy swallows his cock. Having him impale you is not enough; you want intercourse with him on a subatomic level. 

You inch back to give yourself enough space to unbutton his jeans and he sees the wet slick left behind on the table. The heat behind his groin shoots up his spine and he grunts, burying his face into your neck where he tugs on your earlobe with his teeth, hands planted on either side of you.

“Hurry, baby, I gotta fuck this pussy,” he whispers against the curve of your jaw. He wants to leave a giant purple bruise there, this instinct to claim, to mark, stoking the roiling heat at the base of his spine and drawing up his balls. 

But his attention snaps back to your hands when he hears a click, the release of his zipper is almost euphoric. He moans in relief, unable to see through his half-lidded eyes the explosion of goosebumps over your skin as his breath tumbles over your back and down your chest. 

His urgent hands overwhelm yours, one pushing his jeans down his hips, the other palming your stomach, pushing you back and you go willingly, but seemingly mesmerized by the sight of his aching, flushed cock springing up against his stomach. You lie down, but only barely, still on your elbows, as he tugs you by your ankles to the edge of the table. 

Your uneven breathing could mean a lot of things. He thought you were being complementary the first time you told him he was too big, but your eyes always widened at the sight of his cock. 

“Do you need to be opened up some more, cariño?” 

At his rawest, Spanish came out of him like a spilled bottle of molasses, sweet, slow, rich. 

“Hmm? Tell me what you need. Hable mas alto por favor.” He rubs your knees, your thighs, hoping you’ll ask for what he wants.

“F-fingers, Frankie,” you swallow, eyes still latched on to his now weeping cock. You glance up at him, face open and full of trust, and he feels his dick pulse. “Please, Frankie, put your fingers in me.” 

“Fucking anything.” He plants one hand and cups your mound, lost for a moment in the soaked curls, before pushing two fingers inside and thrusting. “I’ll fucking give you anything you want.” 

His hips jerking slightly in tandem with the pulse of his fingers, his slacked mouth an indication of how unconscious his humping has become, as he watches you dissolve with every stroke of his hand. God, he didn’t know they made things this pretty. His hand pushes your knee up and back, finding room for three fingers and your eyes roll back in your head. You scrabble for anything to hold onto, fingers searching for the ghosts of your bedsheets, but finding none, your arms curl over your head and latch onto the other edge of the table. You present your fucking tits to him like you’re letting him admire artwork. 

It almost brings him to his knees.

“Oh, I’m coming, oh, Frankie, I’m gonna –,”

He pulls out his fingers just enough to let you gush down his palm, his wrist, and he licks it up like a glutton. It drips a bit onto the linoleum and he smears it with his bare feet.

Frankie slides two fingers back in, his brain going fuzzy at being away from the clutch of your cunt for too long, when you grab his wrist. 

You can barely breathe, your skin a pale pink, your cunt no doubt must be sore, but your eyes are as hard as diamonds in your skull. He swallows the flush of spit in his mouth.  

“Now, Frankie,” you plead, fingers tight around his wet wrist, the hairs on his arm standing up at the sound of your commanding voice. “Fuck me, now, I need you inside of me.”

It always makes him a bit dumbstruck, the way you beg, the way you let him and only him see this side of you – this side of you that is sick with wanting.

His hand squeezes the base of his cock once, eyes fluttering, to remind himself he cannot blow his fucking load the instant the tip of him is inside you. He taps your clit, once, twice, lubing himself up as if he hadn’t moved around internal organs to make way for himself. He notches, then slides, white-knuckling his impending orgasm in favor of making this good for you. He steps farther between your legs, hands sliding from your thighs, up to your waist. He thumbs your nipple and your pussy twitches around him. He swears his heart flat out stops for a concerning length of time.

“How is a pussy this good all mine? All fucking mine?” He rolls his hips, pushing deeper, movements marionetted by the high-pitched whimpers and moans of your mouth. He could catalog every single one of them, has done so in the deep recesses of his brain, and it takes just a second to know when it switches from pleasure to pain. 

He bends over you, you choking on his dick, and kisses you hard, shattering the tense look on your face.  

“I love you,” he tells you, a secret that despite being well-known to anyone who sees him look at you, still feels precious and fragile. His hand plasters your hair to your sweaty neck as he kisses you desperately, speaking a language only you understand. “I love you so fucking much.” 

You sigh into his open mouth. “I wanna marry you, Fransisco Morales.” 

He is covered in gold. Dripping with it. 

His nails at your hip dig into your skin and you know exactly what you’ve done. 

“Say it. Say it louder, nena,” he snarls, face pressed into your cheek, and he thrusts forward with enough force to rock the table. The table legs squeak as you pin him to you one more time and nip at his ear. The last drop in the well, the rope slipping over the edge, the coil locked into place.

“I wanna fucking marry you.” 

With a breathy grunt, he yanks you down onto his cock by your waist and slaps your ass with his balls. It’s been a while since your cunt has taken a beating like this. You clutch at the edge of the table again, mouth torn open.

He knows you like it when he plays with your clit, and he will, but he needs to get this out of him. 

“Yeah? You’re gonna marry the guy who’s fucking your pussy so good right now?” It’s amazing that words escape at all through his gritted teeth, jaw taut. He watches as he disappears and reappears in you, your lips puffy and pink already but he needs more. He doesn’t want you to be able to walk out of bed tomorrow. 

“Yes, Frankie – oh, god, there, right there – yes, I’m gonna marry you.” He tips your hips up as he pounds down and you arch, crying out at the angle, the depth, how full you feel. He fucks like he’s trying to bruise your ribcage through your pussy. 

The thoughts in his head collide with the others, knotting together, blurring, until the only noise he can make, the only thing he can verbalize is the tight grunts, the hm, hm, hm, as he focuses on chasing this fire. 

He feels it approach so fast, he’s nearly taken under by the intensity of his orgasm so he slows, grinds instead, and with his eyes on your face, he cups himself around where he’s split you open, feeling your lips suck in and out with every thrust. 

He closes his eyes briefly, helpless against the waves of arousal that coat his fingers. He smears your clit with his thumb and his name is a split, jagged thing that burns your tongue. He wants that taste on his tongue again. 

You throb once, a sharp climax warming your pussy, and he backs out, drops to his knees, and licks you up again. He can taste his sweat there this time and he groans. His hands slip over your skin from the sweat in the crease of your thigh.

The cries from your mouth are wet now, on the curve of a salty tongue. You tremble like your orgasm is a physical thing, thrumming under your skin, warming your blood and you claw at his forearm. 

“B-baby, please–,” 

Wiping his mouth on your inner thigh, then licking up the mess he made, Frankie stands. He swats your bottom lightly, tutting. He’s a mad man, he knows it, he can’t tell if it's delirium from the rough ache of his balls or masochistic joy in hearing you beg, but again he rubs himself through your folds. It’s not the same, not nearly enough, but it helps last just a bit longer. 

“No crying until after I’ve made you come.” 

“I’ve already come twice,” you whine as you buck your hips, trying to take him in deeper. “You said I can have anything I want.” 

“And what does princesa want?” Yeah, there’s definitely something wrong with him. 

Your eyes flash as your nails dig into his shoulders, that fire he so loves to stoke flaring out.

“I want to come on your cock, Mr. Morales.”

And he unravels, divinity calling his name. 

His pace is slow, then rough, then deep. 

The table is just the right height. He balances on knee on the lip, bending your knees over his shoulders, and fucking down into you. He’s going to snap you in fucking half and maybe he does but he’ll be there to seal you back up again. 

Pour himself into you. Fill you. Make you whole once more. 

Baby, please.

The first drip of tears starts out the corner of your eyes as you come, open-mouthed, throat exposed, a cry loud and in the shape of his name tearing from your lips, your body locking up, cunt squeezing him until he feels himself burst. 

With a shudder and a groan, he spills, hot and flush into you. He comes, and comes, and comes, until his gooey spend is forced out of you and down the crack of your ass. He can’t see anything past the white spark in his eyes, feel anything but you and the tingle of his limbs. 

The excess of you and him is everywhere, leaking out onto the kitchen table, soaking the wood. There’s a ringing in his ears he can’t quiet. 

Your breath is hot on his neck, sweaty skin stuck tightly against his, he knows he’s crushing you, his arms given out at some point, but he really doesn’t think he can stand up right. He kisses your cheek by way of apology and thanks but you don’t seem to mind, your own gaze unfocused on the ceiling. 

“Fuck, Frankie . . .”

He laughs, realizes his legs aren’t working, so trembling and uneasy, he slides out of you and manages to make it to the floor. He blames the sudden dizziness on a lack of food and then blames the dizziness for lying down on the floor. 

His eyes flutter and somehow you’re suddenly curled up next to him, your palm resting over his pounding heart. His fingers find their way up into your sweat-damp hair, thumb gently rubbing against the knot at the base of your skull. 

“Your back is gonna be killing you in about fifteen minutes, sweetheart,” you grumble sleepily into his chest, a grin on your face. 

“I can’t feel anything below my waist right now.” He yawns. “So, we’ve got some time.” 

You nod, absentmindedly stroking the dark hair on his chest. 

“We need to talk about Pope’s birthday party this weekend. Will put us on drink duty . . . but I can’t really focus on anything right now.”

“Good,” he smirks with his eyes shut. “That was some of my best work.” And then he frowns. “You need to eat.” He pokes your side and you huff.

“Okay, if you’re awake enough to berate me, we can at least go to bed.” 

Groaning, you pull him up and he threatens to stumble you both into the wall, but he kisses your cheek and swats your ass, before snagging a tub of ice cream and a spoon. He meets you in the bedroom with the cap off and a smear of chocolate around his lips. 

You’ve got one of his shirts, grinning up at him from the center of the bed, and he’s torn about whether he likes you in his boxers, or nothing at all. 

You take the ice cream from him before he has a chance to flop down on the bed. 

“Not exactly a nutritious meal,” you mutter around the spoon and he turns his face from the pillow to glare at you. 

“That’s the other dinner I made for you, so eat.” 

Your giggle is all you can give to show your thanks.

He rolls onto his back, groaning theatrically, before tucking his hand behind his head, and his fingers coming to rest on his stomach. 

Behind the lids of his eyes, he can feel you watching him.

“What?” He grumbles, feeling around for your foot to pinch your ankle. He hears you move so he knows he’s close. “Not the right flavor, princesa?”

“No,” you laugh and prod his hip with your toe. “It’s just . . .”

His eyes open, finding yours in the half-lit gloom. You’re grinning the spoon in your mouth, eyes bright with something unnameable. You shrug, eying his hand between you both.

“I just never knew Fransisco Morales could be domesticated.” 

He wipes the chocolate off your chin with his thumb.

Yeah, who knew?

[yuesya]

Seriously, what kind of introduction is that?!

This is Zenin Shiki, my murderous clan head.

Sumire gives Toji a look. Has he finally lost his mind?!

… Except… the thick-headed man clearly doesn’t seem to think there’s anything wrong at all with what he just said. Which only feeds into Sumire’s exasperation with him. Yes, she’d known that Toji’s family situation was rather complicated, but he’d spoken fondly of his young clan head, hadn’t he? So why would he go and say something like this?

“Your kill count is higher than mine,” Zenin Shiki’s voice is cool and measured. Factual, and with no particular inflection in her tone.

Sumire blinks. The young clan head doesn’t… seem to be offended…?

“Yeah, ‘cuz I’m older than you,” Toji responds, with a note of something akin to amusement in his tone. “Oh, I’m planning to take Sumire’s surname, too. She’s not marrying into the Zenin Clan.”

“Okay.”

Sumire’s jaw drops open. The girl just– just like that–?!

“Shiki-sama!” Unlike the white-haired girl who remains completely unmoved, the other man in the room with them sounds appalled. “Even despite his– his… brashness, Zenin Toji is a member of the main family. Something like this is ridiculous, you cannot possibly allow–”

“I can allow what I want.”

“This isn’t proper,” the man insists. “The Zenin Clan would be ruined if all its members marry out like this! And to a woman? You need to reconsider this.”

“I don’t care for keeping sorcerers who don’t want to be here,” Shiki states boredly. “And if none of the Zenin Clan’s members wish to remain with the clan, then it’s better off disbanded anyways.”

“But–!”

“If you have a problem with any of my decisions,” the girl continues, “Then issue an official challenge to replace me.”

The man’s face turns red, then white. Eventually, he lowers his head. “… Surely you jest, Shiki-sama.”

“It’s not a joke. You’re welcome to try if you think you can kill me.” Despite the chilling contents of those words, the girl sounds utterly unconcerned. But is it confidence, or apathy? “… Or if you don’t mind dying, I suppose.”

The man splutters incoherently.

Sumire, on the other hand, can only gape at the young girl. Even though Toji had mentioned a bit of what his young clan head was like to her before, she still finds herself dumbstruck by what’s playing out in front of her eyes.

“See? Told you that you didn’t need to worry about anything,” Toji nudges her gently, then turns towards the white-haired girl again. “You don’t mind that I’m discarding the Zenin name and marrying a civilian, right?”

“Your romantic pursuits are not my concern,” Shiki responds blandly as she returns to her paperwork. There is a brief moment as she writes down a few lines on the paper in front of her, and then sets the document aside. “… Congratulations, Toji.”

“Thanks,” Toji grins. “So, can I expect an expensive wedding gift?”

“Toji, what in the world do you think you’re saying–”

The girl lifts her gaze again, ignoring the other man entirely. “Am I getting a wedding invitation?”

“Well, duh?” Toji gives the girl a look that’s usually only reserved for idiots. “‘Course you are.”

“… Then yes.” Shiki reaches out for a different pen, and starts writing on another document. “I’ll bring a very expensive wedding gift.”

“Nice.”

Sumire looks between her smug-looking cousin, his calm-faced clan head… and the sole person who appears to have many protests, who wears an expression that makes it seem as if he wants to turn around and bash his head against the wall.

… Despite the fact that the other man is clearly against Toji marrying her like this, somehow Sumire can’t help but feel pity for him in this moment.

[yuurei20]

Question regarding clubs: we know we have some one-person clubs, but are there any others mentioned to only have canon characters? Specifically, are there more students in the Pop Music Club other than Cater, Lilia and Kalim? And if possible/if it's ever mentioned, could we have some sort of ranking based on club size? IIRC Spelldrive is one of the most popular ones.

Hello hello~! Thank you for this question!

Cater, Lilia and Kalim are the only members of the Pop Music Club! ^^ Cater says that they are in danger of getting disbanded if they do not attract more members, but as single-person clubs are a thing, it is possible that the problem is less so the size of the club and more so their lack of club activities (outside of snacking).

The Film Research Club might be the only other club (of more than one person) for which we have a solid number, with Vil saying that "it's got around ten members."

As they are "perpetually short-handed of everything but actors" Vil will call in help from Pomefiore students, Kalim's flying carpet and even pay "physically adept school athletes" to help build sets, but "around ten" seems to be how many official members there are.

We have possibly seen all of them, including during Ortho's College Gear vignette where Ortho also becomes a member.

While Spelldrive might be one of the more popular clubs (Leona says it has more members than others) it seems to experience high turnover, with Leona intentionally having Ruggie attract as many people as possible (on Vargas' orders) even if they were unlikely to stick around once they realized how demanding it is. Ruggie says that the other guys who signed up when Epel did "bailed on us so fast."

We've seen at least eleven Spelldrive club members in the game, including Ruggie, Epel and Leona.

The Science Club has a lot of members according to both Idia and Trey, possibly because of how much freedom they enjoy.

Rook explains, "members dabble in plant cultivation, chemistry experiments, and even cooking...basically, anything that isn't physical activity. Its broad range of activities have earned it the unofficial appellation of "Whatever Club." The Science Club might be the only one where someone has commented on there being a lot of members.

We have seen what might be 10 different Science Club members, but some might be the same person twice (it can be difficult to tell with mobs!).

Thanks to Idia's comment we know that the Board Game club has fewer members than the Science Club, but not how many, exactly.

We see two of them during Vargas Camp and there are three Ignihyde students nearby when Idia and Azul are doing club activities together in a vignette, but it is not specified if they, too, are Board Game club members or if they just happened to be in the room at the time.

In book 6 the CHARON seem to invade during club activities where Idia and Azul are playing chess. At one point the screen is shared by a Pomefiore student and an Ignihyde student, so we possibly have a count of about 8 Boardgame Club members?

The Basketball Club is another multi-member club with a vague amount of people.

We see four of them during Vargas Camp and in a vignette, for a total of at least seven members including Floyd, Jamil and Ace.

We see two members of the Equestrian Club during Vargas Camp and three during Book 6, along with three members of the Track and Field Club also during Vargas Camp, but it might be still unconfirmed how many members they have exactly.

This makes for at least eight Equestrian Club members (including Sebek, Silver and Riddle) and at least five Track-and-Field members (including Deuce and Jack).

The single-member clubs are Jade (Mountain Lovers Club), Malleus (Gargoyle Studies Club) and, technically, Grim's Gastronomy Club, as Grim and the Prefect count as a single student.

Based on the information we have right now, I think the only thing we can say for sure is that Science Club has more members than the Board Game Club, Film Research Club has "about ten" members, Pop Music Club has three, Mountain Lovers/Gastronomy/Gargoyle Research have one, and the rest are unspecified!

We know there are 600 students on camps (it is theorized that there are another 200 students in their 4th year who do not live in the dorms), and while it is specified in the novel that clubs are mandatory, the situation in the game is a little more vague.

If they are mandatory in the game as well, it is interesting to think about what the other 578 students are doing!

Thank you very much to @chibi-rose for pointing out that Ace mentions football (likely supposed to be "soccer," as American football canonically does not exist in Twst) and hockey as alternative club options--so it seems there very much are clubs at the school (such as the Literary Club that Trey mentions) that we do not see! ^^

[jrswritings]

Tingles and Giggles - Chapter Eight - Tyler Owens x Reader

Get caught up with Chapter One, Chapter Two, Chapter Three, Chapter Four, Chapter Five, Chapter Six, and Chapter Seven! Masterlist :)

Chapter Eight - Carried Away

On your way back to Prairie Winds most of the ride was silent, filled with the tunes of country music. Tyler held your hand in his and rubbed your knuckles with his thumb the whole time. Even though a couple of your favorite songs played on the radio, your mind was off in la-la land. Thinking about what a future with not only Tyler but with the Tornado Wranglers looked like. 

From what you had observed before, it was like being famous and being spotted out somewhere. Being surrounded by people reaching and trying to just touch you to then not wash that part of their body for as long as possible because you touched it. You never understood why, as you just viewed it as unsanitary. You could understand getting a picture with them or having them sign something that wasn’t a body part, but anything beyond that was unthinkable for you. 

“Whatcha thinking about over there, gorgeous?” Tyler asked, squeezing your hand. 

“Oh you know, things,” you said, looking over at him with a small smile. 

“Well when you solve all of the problems of the world, let me know,” he said, “I’ll be waitin’ for ya.” 

You giggled softly, leaning your head back and looking out the passenger window. The only problem in the world you were concerned about currently was what your life was going to be with the Storm Riders practically disbanding. You grabbed your phone from the back seat and started typing a text to the Storm Riders chat. 

“Hey, Ty?” You asked softly, staring at your phone. 

“Yeah, baby?” He said, slowing down and putting his right turn signal on. 

“Are you sure me and the two kids on my team can join the Wranglers?” You asked softly. 

“The more the merrier,” he said, looking over and giving you a reassuring smile. 

“Okay,” you said, pulling your other hand away from Tyler’s slowly so you could type faster and more accurately. 

‘Hey Team. It has recently been brought to my attention that Willow, Jade, and Tristan will no longer be with the Storm Riders, effective immediately. I’ve spent the morning with Tyler from the Tornado Wranglers and I will be joining them for the next season. He offered to take Finn and Asher onto his team if they were willing. My mind is set on joining as chasing has become my full-time passion. Without having a scientist, an extra camera operator, and someone to watch the weather besides myself, I don’t see the Storm Riders being able to chase safely. If anyone has any further questions, I will be available to talk in the morning.’ 

“You can put me down for joining the Wranglers,” you said, putting your phone in the cup holder and grabbing Tyler’s hand gently. 

“R-Really?” He asked, stuttering. 

“Why do you sound nervous about it?” You asked, “Yes.” 

“I guess I didn’t expect you to drop your team so quickly,” He said, looking over at you. 

“Well, without half the team I knew we wouldn’t be able to chase safely,” you said, “And I couldn’t risk Finn or Asher’s lives not having the science behind the storms.” 

“What about your own?” He asked, bringing your hand up and kissing the back of it. 

“If I die chasing, then I died doing something I loved,” you said nonchalantly, “My parents know where I stand on my afterlife process and they agree with it. They know I’m stubborn enough to where I won’t stop chasing just because it could kill me.” 

“God damn,” he mumbled softly against the back of your hand.

“What?” You asked, looking at him.

“Call me forward, but I fall more in love with you the longer we’re together,” he said, “And there’s still so much I don’t know ‘bout you.” 

You didn’t even have to look as you could feel your cheeks turning a bright red. How could someone be so egotistical at one point and then so mushy-gushy at another? If storm chasing didn’t pan out, he could easily become an actor and win Oscars or something.

“Either you blush easy, or I really get you goin’,” he chuckled, “Before you get more flustered trying to reply know it’s okay.” 

You glanced over at the clock, 3:12 pm. You had barely spent eight hours with him and he already knew more about you than you had originally thought. 

“I don’t appreciate that you know so much about me yet I feel like I barely know you,” you said, looking at him from over the top of your sunglasses. 

“What do you wanna know, baby girl?” He asked, turning onto a dirt road. 

“Everything and anything,” you said, turning in your seat to face him. 

“Well, I’m sure I’m head over heels for you. I went to the University of Arkansas for meteorology but never finished. My first love of tornadoes came when I was with my aunt and while I was scared, I fell in love with it,” he said, finding a spot with a few trees and a tiny shack. 

“What’s this place?” You asked, figuring you had time to dig more out of him. 

“It’s technically my aunt’s cabin, but she lets me use it whenever,” he said, throwing the truck in park and killing the engine. 

“Is this where you always disappear to?” You asked

“Usually, we’re only a half hour away from Prairie Winds,” he said, getting out and coming to your side of the truck. 

“There isn’t much here, what do you come here for?” You asked, hopping out of the truck once he opened the door for you. 

“To give my mind a chance to think since Boone never shuts up,” he joked, shutting your door and walking up to the small porch. 

You glanced around the area, it was wide open beside a small group of trees with a fire pit in the middle of it, a huge stack of firewood piled between two of the trees. 

“I usually come here to think about life, aside from chasing,” he said, finding the key on his key ring. 

“What about the Black Mesa?” You asked. 

“That’s for the storm-chasing side of my brain,” he said, pushing the door open, “This is the family man side of me and the side that will eventually be left when the chasin’ side can’t keep up.” 

“There’s a family man side to you, too?” You asked, following him through the doorway. 

“Yes, there is, sweetheart,” he sighed, opening the small fridge in the corner and taking out a beer, “I know you prefer whiskey, but you want one?” 

“If that’s all you have,” you said, taking the beer bottle from him and twisting the top off. 

“We can sit in here and relax until it cools off enough for a fire,” he said, walking over to the radio and turning the dial slightly. Mostly static came through until you could barely hear the start of George Strait’s ‘Carried Away.’ 

You smiled slightly, knowing George was your parent's favorite country artist as they would always dance in the kitchen to his music. While you remembered watching them together when you were younger, you felt Tyler grab your hand and pull you close to him. 

“Can we try this again without me being buzzed?” He asked, setting his bottle down. 

“I suppose we could,” you said, setting yours down and flattening your shirt slightly from being scrunched up in the truck. 

He wrapped his arm around your waist, holding your right hand in his left. You slid your left hand up to his bicep and gave it a light squeeze. 

“I don’t take my whiskey to extremes,” George sang over the radio, “Don’t believe in chasin’ crazy dreams.” 

While swaying your hips together as if you’d done it all your life, Tyler rested his forehead on yours and hummed along softly. 

“My feet are planted firmly on the ground,” George sang, “But darlin’ when you come around.” 

You pulled your forehead away from his and looked into his eyes which were full of love and happiness. This made your insides warm up and soothe your thoughts that were going a million miles per hour. 

“I get carried away by the look by the light in your eyes. Before I even realize the ride I’m on, baby, I’m long gone,” Tyler softly sang while looking down at you, “I get carried away, nothing matters but being with you. Like a feather flying high up in the sky on a windy day, I get carried away.” 

He leaned closer to you, your noses rubbing together gently. 

“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly, his lips brushing against yours.

Want more? Here's Chapter Nine!

Taglist: @fanboyswhore9 @faith719

[embroid-away]

What If: Captain America Were Revived Today? #44 (April 1983) by Peter B. Gillis and Sal Buscema; Original Image by John Romita Sr.

In this What If? Marvel tale, Captain America is unfrozen in 1983 rather than the 1960s. Without the leadership of Steve Rogers, The Avengers disband. Meanwhile, a Captain America imposter, who calls himself a "real American," has decided to use his newfound influential media status to publicly support a National Identity Card to "deal with illegal aliens,” to suggest that members of civil rights groups "ought to think seriously as to whether or not their actions contribute to the strengthening of communist enemies," and declare that if those groups tear the country apart with protests, martial law is justified "for the peace to find a solution.”

Neighborhoods with large black populations (e.g., Harlem) are walled off and forced into poverty, and one character even mentions that Jewish people are being “put back into camps.” The right-wing politicians make sure that things like this aren’t shown on television, keeping the majority of the American public ignorant of the horrors committed with their indifferent support. The public are simultaneously told that with some sacrifices, America can be free once again. The fake Captain America confronts a group of peaceful protestors, and he is shot by a sniper (in what reads like an inside job), allowing the police to have “reason” to attack the protestors. The imposter does not die and instead uses the attack to provide more reason for the violent crackdown against protesting groups.

When the true Captain America is unfrozen, he is horrified to see what America has become, especially with his emblem stamped all over it. He immediately seeks out the resistance forces (who clearly represent the Black Panther Party) and joins their cause, stating that "the wrongs [he's] seen will take much more than one man to right -- but [he's] got a name to clear, a costume to unsoil-- and a country to die for!!"

By the time Steve joins them, the resistance only has one chance left to stop the American downfall: a political convention where the "America First" party will be able to secure its support to sweep the national elections and allow them "to return America to the pure and great nation [the] forefathers envisioned."

The resistance strikes just as the convention begins. The Captain America imposter is no match in a fight against the true Captain America -- especially against a Steve Rogers who's fucking pissed. ("Get up so I can knock you down!!")

With the imposter knocked unconscious, Captain America addresses the convention crowd, warning that an America that does not represent all its people does not deserve to exist at all; that liberty can be "as easily snuffed out [in America] as in Nazi Germany" and "as a people, we are no different from them."

The crowd realizes that the man speaking before them is the true Captain America and cheers. Captain America holds his hand up and silences them, stating that he will not allow them the chance to simply replace one idol with another. He alone can’t undo the horrible damage, and he pleads that there’s still a chance for the people to “find America once again.”

Fascism doesn’t change its tune, just its singers.

A 2021 Marvel Trumps Hate ( @marveltrumpshate ) commission, completed on 22-count aida cloth with embroidery floss and watercolors on a 9" diameter bamboo hoop.

[elains]

Azriel's association with Enalius, what it means for his arc and Illyria

This is something me and my friends have talked about off tumblr, but I wanted to write my own post about it and gather my thoughts. But here, I'll discuss a bit Azriel's character and how the revelations we witness in House of Flame and Shadow will be important to his character. (+ a little bit of Emerie).

What do we know about Enalius? From ACOSF, Emerie provides us with a little exposition when they are in the Rite, when the Pass of Enalius is brought up:

Long ago—so long ago they don’t even have a precise date for it—a great war was fought between the Fae and the ancient beings who oppressed them. One of its key battles was here, in these mountains. Our forces were battered and outnumbered, and for some reason, the enemy was desperate to reach the stone at the top of Ramiel. We were never taught the reason why; I think it’s been forgotten. But a young Illyrian warrior named Enalius held the line against the enemy soldiers for days.

Now, from the Crescent City crossover, we learned that Truth-teller and Gwydion are twin blades. They are a pair. According to the Silene History Lesson, the dagger used to belong to her father's (Fionn's) dear friend, slain during the war. A bit later, when they find Vesperus, she confirms that this friend was Enalius:

The Asteri’s eyes flared with recognition at the long blade. “Did Fionn send you, then? To slay me in my sleep? Or was it that traitor Enalius? I see that you bear his dagger—as his emissary? Or his assassin?”

Immediately before that, she also confirms that the Asteri crafted (which can either mean created, shaped forged, but we are going with created) the Illyrians:

The Asteri’s blue eyes lowered to the dagger. “You dare draw a weapon before me? Against those who crafted you, soldier, from night and pain?”

From everything, we can conclude this: Enalius was the original wielder of Truth-teller before Fionn and Theia, a dear friend to Fionn, and someone who pulled the ultimate sacrifice to keep the Asteri/Daglan from reaching the top of Ramiel. He was a traitor to the Asteri, a rebel against his masters and everything they stood for.

Enalius is the hero most Illyrians strive to mimic, the legendary figure who they all hope to one day surpass. He's a symbol of their people, even if so much about him has been forgotten — the fact that he had a dagger, Fionn's friendship, what the battle was for, maybe even how he was as a person. Brave, for sure. Willing to die for the cause.

And it's Azriel who bears his dagger. Azriel, who has such a complicated relationship with his Illyrian heritage and loaths it - and by extension, himself - is the one with this enormous legacy right at this hand. And this matters.

Still in ACOSF, we have Rhys talking with Cassian and wanting him to play Courtier, the following exchange then follows:

“What, we’re doing some role reversal? Az gets to lead the Illyrians now?” “Don’t play stupid,” Rhys said coolly. Cassian rolled his eyes. But they both knew Azriel would sooner disband and destroy Illyria than help it. Convincing their brother that the Illyrians were a people worth saving was still a battle amongst the three of them.

Azriel hates the Illyrians for what happened to him and his mother and his dislike for them is, to a degree, understandable. The thing is that Azriel, no matter how much he loaths it, is Illyrian. Maybe he's more than that (as it's pointed that Az is different in a lot of ways and Bryce wonders if he is Starborn), but at heart, he's Illyrian. Siphons, leathers, fighting, being Carynthian, his wings, his scabbard and the dagger it holds.

It was healthy, perhaps, for Az to sometimes remember where he'd come from. He still wore the Illyrian leathers. Had not tried to get the tattoos removed. Some part of him was Illyrian still. Always would be. Even if he wished to forget it.

Being Illyrian is part of who he is and his deep hatred for them only fuel his self-loathing. He would like to set himself apart, but he is not.

We can actually draw a direct parallel between Azriel and Bryce with how they regard the Fae vs the Illyrians. Bryce loathes the Fae and for most of HoFaS, she believes they are evil, corrupt, power-hungry and quite generally, not worth saving. She would leave them all to burn. Sound familiar?

And Bryce is wrong. Sathia challenges her notion, pointing out that she's laying judgement to all fae and that is hardly fair. What the one who don't deserve it? Herself, yes, but Flynn, Declan, and Ruhn himself? Do they deserve to burn too? Bryce herself acknowledges this:

Urd had sent her there to see, even in the small fraction of their world that she’d witnessed, that Fae existed who were kind and brave. She might have had to betray Nesta and Azriel, trick them … but she knew that at their cores, they were good people. The Fae of Midgard were capable of more. Ruhn proved it. Flynn and Dec proved it. Even Sathia proved it, in the short time Bryce had known her.

And this part here sums up quite neatly:

Fire met starlight met shadows, and Bryce loosed herself on the world. It ended today. Here. Now. This had nothing to do with the Asteri, or Midgard. The Fae had festered under leaders like these males, but her people could be so much more.

There are Illyrians who are kind and brave and break the mold. We see this with Emerie, who is also a woman. We see that with Balthazar, Cassian. The main point stands, though, that you cannot judge or condemn an entire race for the bad apples.

Azriel is wrong, just as Bryce was wrong, and his journey will be also to realise that his people are worth saving. They were created of night and pain (words that Azriel embodies, being a master of shadows and a torturer), but that is not everything they need to be. They can be more than soldiers. They can thrive.

And I believe this was something Enalius himself came to the believe, long ago. His people deserved more than to be slaves to the Asteri, forced to give them their power when need be, bred to live and die for them. They could be more. And Enalius died to free his people from their chains.

Is Azriel Enalius's blooded descendant? I'm not sure, but he doesn't need to be. Azriel is Enalius successor because he will finish what was started. He'll uncover the secrets of the past, what his people were in truth, what Enalius rebelled for, what he stood for, what the Blood Rite truly means - which he only got a glimpse of.

And this is where I think Emerie will also come in. She's s one of ACOSF most relevant characters and the first female Illyrian to be Carynthian. I think Emerie will also become an inspirational figure to the Illyrian women, another of these what they coud be. What they can be. And more importantly and that is just a theory, what they were.

Orestes was a warrior. What if so was Carynth and she was woman? The name always struck me as similar to Carina, which is the name of a constellation and commonly used by women. It would be ironic and another shaking revelation to the Illyrians that Carynth, for whom their greatest warriors are named after, was a woman.

Does that mean all Illyrian women must become Valkyries? No, but some might wish to follow this path whilst their society takes its time to catch up. They already shook the status quo and with Nesta poised to have a big role (andthe Valkyries along her), they will continue to do so.

Azriel will uncovered the lost history of Vesperus offered him all the clues he needed to start looking. His journey to find out this secrets will lead to him facing his own demons, confronting his loathing for his people and, in doing so, he will make peace with himself.

[sunshinereddie]

i need a college au where richie and eddie are captains of different clubs who have to share the same room space for their club meetings and so are always fighting bc of it. richie’s meeting goes until 5:30 and eddie’s is supposed to start at 5:30, but eddie always shows up at 5:20 anyways and tries to cut into richie’s meeting time which pisses richie off, so he purposefully takes goes slow during his meetings so that now it stretches out until 5:45 and cuts into eddie’s meeting time. whenever they meet with the school’s club organization, they are always fighting that they deserve the room more and that the other should have to find somewhere else/another time to hold their meeting, but of course the person who helps organize the clubs just tells them the same thing they say every time: “this is all that we can offer you, either you can keep it and figure out a way to make it work between yourselves, or your clubs can be temporarily disbanded.”

of course neither of them want to be disbanded, so they are forced to “work together” and eventually make a truce to stop cutting into each other’s meeting times because actually when they stopped to think about it, the time they spent arguing with each other about the fact that richie’s meeting ended at 5:32 instead of 5:30 probably took up more of their time than richie’s 2 minute meeting extension. it still doesn’t stop eddie from making a snarky comment of “oh, so you can read the time” whenever richie actually ends his meeting on time and it also doesn’t stop richie from making an equally snarky comment of “so do you come this early in all aspects of your life orrrr”

until one semester the news comes that another club has decided to take a break, so there’s actually a new room available during eddie’s meeting time! the club organizer offers this to eddie, thinking that he’s gonna be relieved at the news considering how many complaints the organization has received about richie tozier on the behalf of eddie kaspbrak, and yet……. eddie turns down the offer. because the truth is, ever since their truce, eddie has grown to realize that richie tozier isn’t all that bad. sure he’s obnoxious, but he can also be funny and kind when he wants to be, and sometimes after a long and difficult day, having a passing conversation with richie in between their club meetings is the best part of his day. the organizer would get the same response if they offered the new room to richie, too- who has also grown fond of eddie kaspbrak and feels a little rush pass through him whenever he successfully makes eddie laugh or blush with a joke.

they of course never stop bickering. but eventually it does get to a point where richie lets eddie come into the room a few minutes early and hang around at the back, where eddie will start his own meeting a few minutes late because he got caught up chatting with richie. it gets to a point where richie hangs around for an hour after his own meeting ends, so that he can meet up again with eddie after his meeting.

the members of richie’s and eddie’s respective clubs aren’t too sure exactly what happened between their two club captains, but they do know (and are thankful) that at least their meetings don’t start and end with a 15-minute-long argument between them about time management and respecting other people’s times (it was a little weird when that arguing was replaced with awkward flirting, but hey at least it’s not arguing).

[brights-place]

Hello!! I was wondering if you could write about brozone with a sister reader who stayed to take care of Branch when brozone split?

Like, how would the other brothers react when they see her with Branch? Or would Branch still lose his colors at some point despite her being there with him?

Brozone bro's with a Sister! Who took cares of Branch !!

Pairing: Brozone & Younger Sister

Warnings: Fluff, and light Cursing, angst

A/N: I was happy to write this and thank you for the request (˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶)

-You stayed back as you watched your brothers leaving as you held branch is hand as you stood there with wide shaky eyes and confusion on your face as you watch them disband and floyd hug branch goodbye. - Your hand let go of branch and grabbed floyd you were only a couple years younger then floyd but also a couple years older then branch yet you were a child - You stared with wide eyes you were only a child "You can't just leave... You can't do that... None of you can what about branch what about grandma what about Me?" your hands gripped around his wrists tighter - Floyd spoke "I understand but you're willing to wait for it you'll be able to take care of branch and when I come back it wont be too long I'll bring you a gift" floyd said softly as your hand slightly went loose "I'm willing to wait for it?" you muttered as he nodded as you nodded your head "I'll make sure were safe... and and- you guys don't do anything dumb!"

- That day you stood for branch growing up faster then others to take care of branch. Grandma tried to help you keep your childish habits but it didn't worka t all. - Once grandma died you became protective presence in branch is life always watching out for him and trying to keep him safe from the outside world and not to be eaten - Growing up you had taken on a more maternal role in the family after your grandma died and got eaten while despite the challenges of raising branch alone even as branch he became increasingly isolated and paranoid in troll village. - Over time, Branch becomes more isolated and paranoid, which your character struggles to address due to their limited knowledge and control over his emotions. - So when everything happened you still protected him when you grew up but when Trolls World Tour Happened and you didn't come with branch to save the others stating 'we didn't need them then we don't need them now' - Branch still went and you told him whatever he chooses you'd still care for him - The brothers were shocked to see her taking care of Branch and worried about his behavior and how he had changed. - Floyd did bring back a gift and stared at you when you were hanging clothes and gasped seeing branch coming back running to him checking if he was alright but once you saw Floyd, Clay, Bruce, John dory you stared them down - The way they flinched at your glare was like they were gonna die on the spot from their younger sister - Seeing how there baby sister grew up protecting branch even when he was a adult now - Lets just say talking to them was hard... hearing their situations but you did indeed put out your feelings on how ridiculous they were. - As the brothers stood there dumbfounded by the sight of their younger sister Floyd took the initiative and approached you first - The conversation was difficult very difficult and hard to do that - The brothers were all in shock as they saw their baby sister standing there, protective of Branch. Floyd stepped forward first still speechless as he tried to find the words to say

- "Sis... you've grown up so much" Floyd managed to say his voice filled with a mix of surprise and admiration - The rest of the brothers followed Floyd's lead, slowly walking forward to get a better look at their younger sister - They were all taken aback by how much she had changed. She was no longer the little girl they remembered but a young woman who had grown into a protective and responsible person - As the brothers took in her appearance, each of them had a different reaction to how much she had grown and changed.

- John Dory glanced over to the other brothers, feeling a mix of pride and regret at seeing their little sister all grown up.

- As you continued to chat getting points across they all apologized to you deeply - You all started to try rebuild your family the best you could yet that never changed on how your inner child was suffering even after they came back that part of you is still hurt.

reblogs + comments are appreciated ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

©brights-place 2023 — do not repost on another platform, copy, translate or edit my works! if you fit my DNI list please don't interact

[vrystalius]

Can I send you an ask? What is Sanemi's daily life like with his family? What does Sanemi do to financially support (the squad was disbanded after Muzan's defeat) his wife and newborn children? They are triplets. I love your creativity and your kindness 💚

❕Sanemi’s daily life after the final battle

Note: I couldn’t decide on what exactly he would do, so I laid out a couple ideas out. Tomorrow I’ll be focusing more on writing more of my own ideas, so I might not do any asks of requests tomorrow, but I’m still happy to talk to you all!

(Spoilers for the Infinity Castle Arc)

The work life

Fighting instructor/Teacher

— Sanemi still has a lot of fight in him, and he can’t just sit home all day with you. The Ubuyashiki family still sends him and your payment for his service, but Sanemi still wants to do something in his free time. Besides, he could get some pocket money for you four. Maybe Sanemi could build a treehouse with that money? When his babies grow up, they could play all day in there!

— He enjoys working with young people and teaching them how to fight, both with fists and a katana. It reminds him of the time in the corps, although not always pleasant, it was still nostalgic.

— Sanemi found more patience inside him for his students, given that there is no looming threat that could take their life, the life of their partners and kids in the middle of the night anymore. Muzan is dead, and Sanemi uses that fact to remind himself to stay patient and calm.

— It doesn’t bring much money, Sanemi sometimes even doing it for free and just the fun of it. He just wants to feel helpful and teach some young men and women the basics of fighting and defending oneself.

Working on a farm

— Perhaps after having a mostly violent and stressful life, Sanemi would like to have some peace after the final war against Muzan. It would be therapeutic for him to loosen the earth, throw some seeds around and water the soil, and then watch it grow. He treats the plants very carefully and made sure none of them died or dried out.

— Once the triplets were old enough, he would start teaching them about plants too. Sanemi would talk about how to grow them, what they can do or what you can cook with them. After harvesting, he and the kids would cook the whole evening, letting you just sit back and watch.

— Sanemi would pride himself of the fact that he can provide food for his family through his farm/garden.

Opening a small shop

— Sanemi would maybe open up a small shop, mainly selling sweets and snacks.

— He would prepare all the sweets himself: dango, ohagi, mochi and more. Sanemi looks scary, yes, but once the locals gave him a chance, Sanemi got accepted into the community as their local former-samurai-shop-owner.

— The kids loved buying sweets in his shop and ask for some stories about demons. Are they really real anyway?

— Sanemi would of course leave out all the gruesome details and just tell them stories about heroics and victories, romanticising his experiences. They would eat it up every time, the stories and the sweet.

The daily life

— Sanemi wakes up everyday thanking the gods for gifting him a family like this. Then, he would either roll over and cuddle you, or just pull you closer to himself when he’s already holding you. The mornings with him are cuddly and affectionate, since Sanemi is still sleepy and the most vulnerable. You two would talk about the tasks ahead and what to do with the kids today.

— You just recently gave birth to three beautiful baby boys, and the pregnancy still affected you. You couldn’t leave the bed yet, so Sanemi made sure to pamper you plenty.

— After receiving his energising kisses and pampering you with cuddles, Sanemi would crawl out of bed and check up on the babies. Simply watching them sleep made him feel peace and serenity inside. After changing some diapers and some rocking, he would bring the babies to you for feeding and bonding. While you were busy, Sanemi would go make some breakfast.

— Most of Sanemi’s day consists of running errands, shopping, and taking care of your and the boy’s needs. He enjoyed it though. A peaceful life is something he appreciates, although he can’t help it but sometimes miss the feeling of slaying and beheading demons.

— In the evenings, Sanemi would light some candles on Genya’s shrine, and he would pray to his little brother and the rest of his family, thanking them for watching over him and his own little family. He sets out some bowls of snacks onto the shrine like watermelon, still remembering how Genya used to love them.

— Sanemi would leave the door between your bedroom and the nursery wide open, finding peace in knowing that in case something happens, he’s right here.

— He would hold you close, whispering thank-you’s and I-love-you’s into your ear, wanting to make sure that you feel loved and appreciated by him.

“I love you so, so much. Thank you for giving me all this..”

💠

Thank you for reading! Man, I never could’ve imagined how much writing would tire me out… But it always makes me extremely happy to see all your reblogs and likes! I especially love the ones that are just literally drooling over the mentioned character(s). It makes me so happy every time. Thank you all for your support, I’m looking forward to write more for you!

But anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!

Take care of yourselves <3

My masterlist for the hashira.

My masterlist for the demons.

[papermonkeyism]

I think I'm finally starting to recover, after a few years of artistic dry season.

The plague was a big hit, then losing my job and finally my social life collapsing once my IRL DnD group basically disbanded pretty much destroyed what creative juiced I had always lived on up to that point, and it's been HARD to just not having any desire to be creative or do anything.

But now that I have a job again, and have had it for long enough my bank account is stable, and having been adopted into a new DnD group that's active both in-game (weekly game sessions!) and outside of it (we actually talk and communicate generally as well! It's mostly online, but it's still more than I've had in years), I have started to feel more like myself again. That, and the brain meds. I can't overstate how big it is that my default doesn't have to be brain fog anymore.

Like, I'm doing evening doodles again? I'm actually having fun thinking up creatures and characters and plots again? I stopped carrying my sketchbook and pencil case with me everywhere I went during my dry stint of nothing, but now I actually feel like I'm missing it when I don't have it on me at times, like during coffee shop visits.

And I kinda... want to MAKE a thing again.

(Just thinking out loud again, pay no mind.)

I miss having a Project.

Jumping back into making fully plotted out comic feels a bit too much at this stage, though, so I probably won't dedicate myself wholely to something of that scale.

I don't know what exactly will be the final shape of Arcanth's eventual thing, but I'm currently enjoying myself in the fiddly worldbuilding stage. (And just so you know, in the slight off chance that I might maybe pick Wurr back up again some day, I probably won't tell you about it. After all this time and all the messages I've gotten, I don't trust you guys with that one anymore. Even if I would eventually get back to posting it online, it won't happen untill I have a full year's worth of buffer and that would still be a loooooooong way from now even IF I got back to it full time, and I still have that day job besides anyway.)

But what if...

I think an art book or a zine or something might be more achievable at this point.

I feel like the dinosaur project thingy needs some more fiddling with its eventual format (I know I already have enough concept doodles to fill a zine on its own, but I crave an excuse to go ham with watercolors and make full illustrations), but it's one option I still want to make eventually.

And I kinda want to do a slight redesign for the Singing People. (I bought a skull replica a while ago that had narrower snout than how I had drawn them. And I know it doesn't matter that much, and I can always invoke artistic licence and "they aren't necessarily supposed to be any specific real life dinosaur species, it could always go with the 'undiscovered' route if I feel like it and the Troodon/Stenonychosaurus material is super fragmentary anyway", but I'm pretty sure it would bother me anyway if I didn't at least try it out and see how it looked.)

Though I think I got an idea about what to do with Entica!

Those of you who've been here a while know that one started out as my pandemic project. The world had just shut down along with my job warehouse, things were still new and uncertain, and I suddenly had so much free time and not much to sink my creative juices into, and I wanted something low pressure to do.

So I dug up an old setting from my teenage years two decades ago, gave it a facelift, threw out my teenage baggage and just ran wild. No planning, no plot, just art.

The "no planning" part did get back to bite me when the morbs eventually hit and I finally ran out of the creative juices, but that's still a lot of very good material, right there, ready to use.

But I just thought of a new framing device that would work with the already existing material AND give the character more of a goal and agency to make plotting more fun! And I think I like it.

Instead of a random scribe with no background from a place I didn't bother designing who just wants to see the world, Didor now works for a library that has sent her on a mission [to document something and/or take a message to *place*]. She still wants to see the world, but now she has a background, goal and a motive to do so!

And instead of just hanging around at Maaro's cart while Maaro does her own unrelated thing, Maaro is actively helping in her goal! While also doing her job.

I feel that having Didor be on a field work mission would give it more structure while not having to technically retcon anything already existing, and gives more solid excuse to do things than "random encounter number 82" would. Also potential reasons for further adventures ("While you're already out there, could you maybe also do X on the way?")

Also I want to insert nawani in it earlier. I didn't even have them as part of the setting untill psrt way through, and I want to show them off more.

Maybe a travel journal, perhaps?