#terrifying vic thank you

[prettyboykatsuki]

BLOOD FEUDS, ANCIENT AND MODERN | RYOMEN SUKUNA.

✮ tags ; no curses au, blood incest, use of honorifics (oji-san) abuse (mostly verbal / emotional), classism, grooming / generally predatory behavior, large age gaps (20+ yrs), blood feuds, imbalanced power dynamics, white collar crime, afab + fem!niece!reader, uncle sukuna, the word rape used in text, non/dubcon (not noncon necessarily), fingering, petnames (little one, kid, little lamb), thigh-fucking, and other things, very horrible and gross sukuna behavior 18+

this is very dark and it deals BRIEFLY with sukuna being very predatory to reader when she's UNDERAGE / young. nothing explicit happens WHILE she is underage, but sukuna does leer at reader and it is mentioned. please proceed with caution !!!

PLEASE HEED THE TAGS BEFORE YOU PROCEED!!!

✮ wc ; 10.3k (???????????)

✮ a/n ; thank you vic @saintshigaraki for always indulging my nonsense and also tomfoolery. kissing you.

i'll be honest lads this one got away from me BAD jksdfhjs. i think its interesting at least.I KNOW THE TAGS ARE WICKED but i promise its like. kind of sexy at least.

also yes the title is from the rdr2 soundtrack shhh

✮ synopsis ; blood is thicker than water. resentment, you think, is thicker than both.

Bastard.

An intimately familiar title, lacking tooth and effect. It's meaning eroded with time and usage - and a moniker you've wielded proudly for as long as you can remember. You don't recall much of your life before it became part of you.

The daughter born of wedlock. Bastard daughter. The only remaining stain to your family's reputation aside from your late father.

Your mother often tells you that you were her hardest child to birth. When you were littler it was a story relayed to you with affection, and but now it's with such bitter hatred you can feel it lodged in your throat.

The most important element is the predestination in it. You came into the world kicking and screaming, throat hoarse and violent. From birth, you knew you were half-forged with bad blood and came into the world trying to be absolved of it. It's shaped your life, your relationships, everything about you.

The other half of your DNA, the good half, is from your father. Before you were a bastard, you were your parents' only child. Your father was a good man. The best you know. An average, humble man. From a generation of other working class men with a tough job in construction. Your best memories come from when he was still alive.

A quiet life, untainted by the residual bitterness of your mothers heritage. You lived away from it, outside of it. The mother in your memories from back then seem like a dream now, some mirage from long ago - disinterested in anything but you and your father. Your mama and papa. Your father took good care of you both, and your mother loved him madly.

You lived as a normal family in a small apartment just outside of Gifu for the first seven years of your life. You attended a small local school and had friends with crooked teeth and messy hair.

Your childhood was mostly happy if you break it up into pieces like that. Blissfully uneventful.

There's a concise break of change of what your life was versus what became of it. Your fathers death the splinter in the wood, separating the two halves.

The worst of your childhood, of course, came in your fathers passing. Not just because of the loss, but what it made of your life. His funeral welcomed people of all walks of life with the most notable absence of your elusive mothers side of the family.

Another old memory you have with your mother is looking at her face during your fathers wake. The deep darkness of her eyes, sunken in and hollow. The first time you ever found her terrifying instead of comforting. While the world mourned your father, your mother—you think—mourned her life.

Forced into single motherhood with no prospects and no career, your mother decided it was best for the both of you to return home.

You think the worst of your life started there.

Your mother's side of the family has never welcomed you with open arms. You wouldn't come to know why until much later. You were a child then. There's no way you could've known about feuds that deep.

The only thing you knew was that you were hated vehemently, and nothing could change that.

Your grandmother's estate was always frightening to you in your childhood. You've yet to grow out of that feeling despite living there for the last fifteen years. It's remained unchanged since you moved in and the lights in the hall never seems bright enough. Jade green painted walls and white tile floors. Some rooms have classically Japanese flooring and heirloom paintings from the Heian era. Others modernized with sterile whites and grays and house plants that add no life to it at all. Stretched wide with tens of rooms, and easy for a child to get lost in.

A sinking abyss. A terrible place. A dark labyrinth. Anxiety inducing to even think about now. No place for a child your size or your age.

The best way to describe your childhood after your father died was cold. Removed from your life in the suburbs and placed among other rich kids, you became overtly self-conscious of the differences between you and them. Them being anyone who grew up wealthy and your other extended family. You were constantly reminded of your place as the bastard child. Later learning how your mother left her fiance many years ago for your father, your poor and worthless father.

(You theorize any warmth that your mother had for you was buried in your dead dads casket. Living there, among them, made sure she'd never find it again.)

Your mother is the most complicated part of your life. You don't have a time for when she gave up on raising you. There was a year when she tried, you think. For the most part, you lived in that house utterly alone. 

At first that abandonment was miserable (as it would be to any child, certainly) but a time came where you were glad you saw so little of her.

Your mother, who you had once loved and thought highly of, became a pitiful prey animal in the four walls of your grandmother's house. Small and anxious and utterly hateful. A bunny born with some cosmic knowledge and horrific understanding that its destiny is to become food for a wolf. Viciousness between her siblings, no doubt fostered by your grandparents and their establishment, tore apart the aspects of her your father mended and ruined her. You were too little to stop it. 

Blood feuds that ran bone-chillingly deep plagued most of the interactions with your extended family for as long as you've been a part of them. Your mother has exactly four siblings. Two sisters between her with her as the middle daughter, and two brothers. One of which is estranged so completely you don't know his name.

And the other being your Uncle Sukuna.

Your hatred for your aunts and their children came to you rather naturally. For every gala and ball and charity fund your worthless bloodline ever raised, came catty arguments and verbal abuse from the shallow mouths of your beloved cousins. You had nothing to prove to anyone in that house. You were detested since your birth and your grandparents made no small effort to show you through as much neglect and verbal lashing as they could get away with.

Rotten girl. Cursed daughter. You're the reason your mother is like this. You're the reason she is miserable. You should've been buried with your father.

Compared to the experience of your grandfather ripping into you at age ten for simply being alive, your cousin's commentary on you was remarkably uninteresting. You resented them for being nuisances, though, with the exception of maybe one who bucked it out of that place as soon as they could. Just like you planned too.

For a long time, Sukuna wasn't around enough to have a real presence in your consciousness. You tried not to think of your extended family more than you had too. You got used to not knowing about your relatives living there, but there was no one so elusive as him.

It was as if, increasingly, you heard whispers of his name at everything you were forced to attend.

The first time you ever meet your Uncle, you're freshly sixteen. It's the birthday party your mother throws for you each year in an effort to show how close the two of you are to the rest of your relatives.

The first time you see Sukuna in person, the only thing on your mind is how much he stands out from the rest of your relatives. He's a head taller than the tallest person there, and he's...bigger. He's not clean or neat, scruff lining his chin. Old, dark eyes. Visible tattoos that reek of disgraced son and hardly of prodigy.

At sixteen, you understood intimately what your family considered to be gold standard. Your uncle was antithetical to it. His very existence a paradox to the ideas you've had been hammered into you for years. Dyed hair, piercings, tattoos - his suit jacket undone to expose his chest. Lacking respect and formality and dignity. 

He was a lot like you. You got that impression, somehow.

When your eyes met with your uncles for the first time, you had your second fully formed thought about him.

Dangerous. Like an alarm. Like a ringing bell, throbbing through your skull and pulsing through your teeth. Some part of you just knew that he was a very dangerous man. Not just a wealthy one.

The first conversation you ever had with your uncle proves to be the most significant. Brief, yet - tonal in all ways. The gold standard for how he viewed you. How he would view you.

How he would treat you.

("So you're the new brat,"

Your uncle is an imposing man. You are sixteen and slightly tipsy, which is the least horrible thing you could be since your other cousin is coked out in the bathroom upstairs. You sway, staring at him. You think that's disrespectful.

He's the kind of man who might kill you for that. Might hit you. But you don't find it in yourself to challenge your defiance when you're far from sober and even father form happy. You lean your weight to one side and hum.

"New bastard," You correct him, and take another sip of the flute of champagne in your hand. "My worthless fathers, worthless daughter."

Sukuna pauses, his eyes widening before his lips break out into a grin. You wonder if it's because you're drunk. You think he's staring at you. Your eyes are too blurry to tell but you think he's gazing down the low dip of your top. At the curve of your chest. Leering at the body you've yet to even grow into.

"Tenacious," Your uncle says, and takes a long drink of his sake. You stare at the edge of his glass, carmine eyes gazing so deeply at you - you think you'll throw up. "You're your mothers daughter. Through and through.")

The night of your sixteenth birthday, your uncle announced he'd be opening a business venture in Tokyo. All this time he'd been doing work overseas, but seeing family helped finalized his decision. You remember the look on his face when he announced it. Remembered his eyes searching on you through the crowd as he held the mic up to his lips. How he named you the main reason, one conversation and he grew so fond of his little niece. That you were a clever girl, and that even though he hadn't known you long - he was sure you'd go so far.

Happy Birthday to you, little lamb.

You remember best the feeling afterwards. How the crowd went nearly silent. Hundreds of eyes darting your way in seas of strangers. All the attention people hadn’t paid suddenly mattering, all the congratulations. You remember how they crowded you and how your uncle came to your rescue with a cheeky grin and air of nonchalance.

You remember feeling sick. You remember the chill creeping up your spine, bile in your throat - all wet eyes and nausea.

Your uncle is a dangerous man. And you, the uninteresting bastard daughter, had caught his full attention.

The next four years of your life would pass so slowly, you often wondered during them, if you died that night and you'd live through these days as punishment for the crime of existing.

A little after your birthday, your uncle moved back to Japan permanently - in a residence not far from your grandmother's estate. He became a permanent fixture in your life. Many things came with that reality, none of them being especially pleasant.

You learn three things in the four years you spend with your uncle in your life.

The first is that your uncle is more powerful than you can really understand.

Through conversations at your kitchen table about his escapades abroad, you learn nothing of the work he actually does. Only what it involves, who it involves - foreign governments and people much more powerful than your family. Your uncle has ties to the Gojo family, and the Zenins'. Your time here teaches you that they make up two halves of private militarized arms and they work domestically and internationally. The only thing you need to know about them is they are filthy rich, richer than your own family and twice as corrupt.

And Sukuna works with them. Knows them rather intimately, from the pictures you've seen of Sukuna and Gojo Satoru drinking together - two prodigal sons with silver spoons and unsettling demeanors.

The second thing you learn is that your uncle's power and influence extend past all borders and include your grandparents and relatives. In the years he'd been away from home, he's garnered a formidable reputation. You never cared to notice it before, but it's all you can see now. Every arrogant, vapid relative you have the displeasure of calling family sees your uncle as some sort of king. The golden ticket to grandparents approval. A wishing well for all their hopes and dreams - so long as they appease him.

They fawn over him. Sukuna knows it. But they're all so busy trying to get on his good side they never catch his subtleties. Never seem to notice the cold sarcasm and biting edge to his questions. They pander and peacock to him constantly, but not one of them has sense enough to understand him a little deeper. Except you, incidentally. That's part of your problem

The third thing you learn about your uncle is that he takes pleasure in your cleverness no one in your life has since.... who knows? Since your father died, you think.

And you are clever. A head smarter than the rest of your family and a try-hard in all aspects. You graduated highschool top of your class and got scholarships into better schools. It was never about proving your worth of course, but about survival. You wanted away from this place, and the only way to cut your ties completely is to carve a life for yourself. Academia, education, using your name to make connections - you've been working silently on it since you were in middle school.

The only person who'd ever noticed your accomplishments was Sukuna. In between his work, he'd visit you in your room. You grew close in one sense of the word. It was a secret kept between you - but Sukuna often reminded you of it. That he saw you for who you were when no one else did. That his interest in you exceeds your own understanding, and it'd be in your best interest to remember that.

Some half-way between threats and affection, for four years - your uncle remained at your side. Uneasy as you were, he'd never try to advance on you while you were still in highschool. Some part of you knew he wasn't above it. Rather his interest hinged on getting to know you.

Your uncle is above all things manipulative.

Rather he preferred to keep you on your toes during the duration of your time together. To get close but not too close. To get to know each other openly. Your uncle made sure everyone in your family knew of his fondness for you. He'd keep you close to his side or follow you around, always in public places with a million eyes. He'd whisper to you, laughed and asked questions.

You hated being the center of attention, so Sukuna turned it on you any chance he got. It made it hard for you to refuse him, but mostly it made it hard to go under the radar without his protection. It made it hard for your relatives to insult and berate you.

You hated it. You hated accepting his kindness, because you know your uncle well enough to know that everything in the world came with a cost. And that this protection is little more than luxury, promised to you as long as you played nice.

And you always did play nice. But you were cautious. Never alone too long in the same room. Never somewhere too late. Never drunk, never high. Always within distance of a door. Sukuna was a dangerous man, and you may be a bastard but you're no fool.

It'd work for years. You evaded any real alone time with him for years. Years.

Until earlier this year where your mother had made arrangements for you to spend the summer with your dear old Uncle - in his villa, far from the safety of Japan's main island.

In the years of your uncle's favoritism towards you, no one has been more pleased than your mother. You've come to hate her for it. Your relationship hasn't been good in years and for her to suddenly attempt to be your mother again felt like a mockery.

(It mostly felt like a betrayal. You didn't think she could betray you a second time after she all but abandoned you the minute she stepped foot in that house.

Like something possessing the corpse of the mama in your dreams, your seething hatred towards her started then you think.)

You'd spent years indifferent to her, but it was this change that made you hate her down to your bones. You were furious about the decision. Furious she didn't bother asking, furious about all of it.

About everything.

An entire summer alone with the man you know to be most dangerous to you. You wouldn't put it past Sukuna, to plan this around you - but it didn't make it any less frustrating.

("You'll be going with your uncle," Your mother says, hardly listening to you. There's a baby on her hip, your half-brother and a vacant look in her eyes. You feel your jaw tighten. "We've already made plans. Your stepfather,"

"Your husband." You correct. Your mother gives you a tight-lipped smile.

"We are going on a family vacation. Your grandparents wouldn't tolerate you here alone , so you're going and that's final."

"I don't need to live with you," You seethe, fighting the urge to grab her and punch her. You've never been violent. Your mother makes you homicidal. "I can find my own fucking place, I'm twenty I don't need-"

She slams something. Your half-brother makes watery eyes. She stares at you distantly, righteously angry. Whether she's earned that anger or not, it makes your mood worse. .

"This is the least you could for me. For us." She hisses, turning around. You think of killing her. "For all the shit you put me through."

"What I put you through? Fuck you," You admit, your throat burning like a star falling through the atmosphere. Then, through a shaky breath"There's something off about him, mom. Do you understand what I'm fucking saying? Where you're sending me?

Three expressions pass over her face. The ghost of grief, some kind of solace and then more vacancy. She swallows, turns around to keep folding baby clothes. Her voice trembles. She knows she's sending you to your doom. Knows what waits for you as soon as you go.

"You're going. We need this." She says, and still doesn't turn to look at you. Her voice is so frigid it doesn't sound like hers anymore. "That's final."

You shouldn't be shocked by it anymore, but it doesn't make it easier.

You slam the door on your wait out. You hope their plane crashes on the way there.)

You tried your best to worm your way out of the situation before the semester closed out. But Sukuna, three steps ahead of you at all times, made sure that wasn't possible. Your uncle owned a villa out on an island, private - and the bags had already been packed. You'll like it there, he assured you so many times, it's comfortable. There's a good view and the kids in the place will remind you of the kids you grew up with.

(It's hard not to notice the ways in which Sukuna tempts you into wanting to go. Though there's nothing, truly, that could make the experience a pleasant one - it's posed to appeal to you. A place to remind you of your childhood. You try not to think about it.)

Despite your protests, despite your vehement frustration - there was nothing you could do but go. If you didn't go with Sukuna, it'd be enduring 3 months alone with your grandparents. You could try to crash with friends but the friends you've made so far wouldn't dream of being so polite and you dare not think of burdening your childhood friends with your family problems. They deal with enough as is.

The last option was running away. You're desperate enough to entertain it. You do, several times - considering what the worst outcome could be. All scenarios end with Sukuna coming to find you, because he's crazy and connected like that. Even if he's deliberate in not displaying those parts of himself, you know his apathy to be a facade.

You know him well. He knows you well. It feels like a competition to see who can outsmart the other that you were forced into with no say.

So, come the end of your third year of college - a driver picks you up right as your finals are finished to take you to the airport. A private jet, a nauseating display of wealth just for your uncle to torment you with you're sure.

On the plane ride to a small island on the coast of Japan, you think to yourself that all gods in the world must've abandoned you before you were ever born.

__

The first few weeks of your stay in the island of Nii-jima prove to be uneventful.

For a small island, it's still governed through something related to Tokyo. It's not the city or even the country, some quiet and relaxing in between. There are people here who've lived for generations and others who are only touring. Your uncle's villa though, is far from all life - and a few miles out from a beach.

You can hardly understand what a single man needs such a big house for. There's staff there too, though less than at your grandparents place which you're grateful for. You've met six of eight, two of them people who take care of the yards and garden.

Sato-san is the woman you see most often. The one cook Sukuna has and the woman who's been working longest. She is kindhearted and sturdy, often bringing her grandchildren with her. She's quiet and motherly - and so warm you're unsure of how to behave around her. Your uncle is seemingly fond of her which is saying a lot. She speaks highly of him. 

It's been so long since you've experienced something like maternal warmth, you're awkward around her. You try to not be too attached, try not to be fond of anything in this house because you know something horrible and dormant lies within it and you do not want to stay. Don't even want to entertain the idea of staying.

But Sato-san is good to you, with wrinkles and sunspots and a bright laugh. Her grandchildren are so well-behaved you wonder about how they were raised. A girl about seven and a boy about four, always quiet and inattentive. You've grown fond of them too, despite how bad you normally are with children. They're easy to be around.

You're frustrated mainly because you don't hate being here. The people are kind and welcoming and everyone locally is pleasant and good. You've been in the city too long, with insane people too long, and everything feels refreshing. The bus here is free and you can be at the beach whenever you like. You've made friends here - organically, with no strings attached. .

For the first time in your twenty years of living, you even have a guy you think is cute. It seems small, but back home everyone knows who you are. You've never had a relationship work out for one reason or another, but here? Here no one knows you, and the boy you meet at the beach with his friends is just a boy.

You don't want to like being here, but you do - and you don't want Sukuna to come back and he will. Nothing ever works out for you.

The worst of your luck you think builds on the edge of that thought.

You come home tonight doing a lot of things you would not normally. 

For one, you've gotten yourself drunk. The reason being the cute boy aforementioned invited you down to the beach with his friend. You justified going thinking if you were going to be miserable all summer - a single good memory wouldn't kill you.

You had fun. Your swimsuit is underneath your short skimpy clothes, and you sat in his lap and made-out with him all evening. Got to pretend you were a normal girl and you got to kiss for the first time. You still reek of alcohol and his cheap cologne. Blissfully uneventful. 

When you stumble into the foyer of the house with blurry vision and hear the T.V. playing, you know it instinctively that peace is going to be short-lived. You know that your uncle is home, and that he was waiting for you.

All the hairs on your neck raise. A shift in the atmosphere makes it hard to think clearly. Your lungs barely get enough oxygen in them to keep you upright. You think of leaving. You think of running up marble stairs to your room in hopes he won't catch you.

"Brat," Is yelled from the living room. Right, as if you'd ever get so lucky. You jump in your skin. "You home?"

Your stomach churns. You feel sick.

"Come to the living room."

You go obediently when Sukuna calls you, trying not to stumble over your two feet.You don’t think there’s more options than fearful compliance. 

Your uncle is watching Scarface on the big flatscreen on the TV. The subtitles are on in Japanese though you don't think he needs them. He only barely turns his head to look at you, his interest piqued when he sees what you're wearing.

You feel sixteen again, self-conscious of your body and womanhood. He hides it even less than he did the first time - the leering. He notices your skimpy shorts and top, the bottom of your bikini. And he grins, and stares but doesn't say anything.

"Oh?" He says, calm and casual, glancing back at the T.V. "Finally went and had some fun did you? Thought all that studying turned you into a bookish little shut-in permanently."

You don't say anything, arm clutching your other self-consciously.

"Did you need something?"

He snickers, low and predatory. "Come on. You're here to spend time with me so let's spend time together."

You don’t bother asking where he’s been for the last few weeks.  Your gut churns, feet heavy as they drag you to the far end of the couch. Sukuna stares as you sit hesitantly. You have no doubt he's going to make you move, but he's kind enough to leave you alone for now.

"Have fun on your..." He gives you another knowing look then laughs. "Outing?"

You aren't sure how to respond. "Just drank with some friends."

"Friends," He mimics, feeling the words out in his mouth. "The kind of friends that smudge the lipstick off your mouth, huh brat?"

You flush suddenly, embarrassed - and Sukuna barks a laugh. You don't know what he's expecting you to say there so you opt for nothing.

"Sorry," Is the only thing you can manage. Placating. He lets out a puff of air through his nose and relaxes further. There's an air to him, of nonchalance, that unsettles you more than if he was angry or unpleasant. Your throat bobs.

"You're a big girl now," He comments - sleazy and indignant. His indecency towards you, about you glints like a star. A sharp canine and piercing red eyes examine you from his peripherals. "Now that you're showing off it's only natural boys flock to you, hm?"

You can't explain the way this comment makes you feel. So much said with so little. The gap between is and has always been miles wide except sometimes it's not. Your uncle is unusual. Cold-blooded, manipulative, ruthless. There's no warmth in him in a comfortable, loving way. 

There's even less of a normal relationship between you.

But you both exist in this space with... similar awareness. Of the world. Of yourselves. There's a conscious intelligence to him that's reflected in you - that you are both fractured parts of your grandparents bloodline in two separate bodies. That self-awareness affords him a presence. In your mind. In your fear.

You are undoubtedly related. Sukuna revels in that.

It’s rare to see that kind of awareness in your family. You’ve never felt threatened by people dumber than you, even if they had more power or money. Vapid and shallow and useless - there’d never been anything that could win you on. It might sound cocky, but it’s true. It’s been true. 

It’s why Sukuna frightens you. He has everything, but above all - he’s smart. And hard for you to read. 

You swallow, shakily - your eyes looking down at your hands. In a profoundly long beat of silence, the movie plays. A fair bit of gunshots echo through the loud speaker and they startle you.

"You scared? Come sit closer, then." He tells you, less than asks you.

You stand and sit next to him, still a distance away. Sukuna remains unmoving. You don't know what to do with yourself.The silence seems to stretch for miles and minutes. Sukuna just watches the T.V. and stares at his phone - occasionally answering messages. You stay like that for a long time. 

"Need a smoke," He says, and it's not really directed at you. "Maybe later. Wouldn't wanna make you sick."

"People smoke around me all the time."

"Do you smoke?"

You shake your head, too tipsy to lie. He laughs at that. "Not even weed?"

You don't bother mentioning legality, you both know it doesn't matter between your lineage.

"Don't like the taste."

"How interesting. What a straight-edge kid. Most I've seen you get is drunk and this is the drunkest I've ever seen you. Still sober enough to talk clearly though."

"I just drink socially,"

"Ohh," He says, and then grins a little sharper. "A little shot of courage to fuck that little college boy then?"

This makes you jolt. "We didn't fuck—"

"No?" He looks genuinely surprised at this, though it's mild. "Poor kid must've wanted too if you came around him wearing that. Unless he came in his pants soon as you sat on him. Boys that age do stuff like that,"

The comment about his age reminds you of how old your uncle really is, and something in your chest flares hot.

"It wasn't that either—I've never-"

He cuts you off. "You're a virgin?"

You flush, stopping yourself from answering and he laughs.

"Ohhh, that's good. Very good," He grins, so genuinely pleased it makes you shiver. "I like virgins. Easy to please."

"That's—It wasn't for you."

For the first time in your relationship, Sukuna bridges the gap between you. He sits up and forward, his hand finding the bare skin of your knee. He rests it there, his thumb circling the flesh.

"Don't touch me," You hiss. Sukuna tightens his grip, but not threateningly. He turns to look at you that time, and you can't help but look back.

There's something in his degeneracy that horrifies you. It's fondness, you think. Genuine fondness.

"You sure?" He licks his teeth in a way that reminds you of a wolf. But not one that's starving. There's no desperation in his actions, but a self-assurance. Wolves don't often survive alone, but Sukuna has. And he hungers with the confidence of a predator who has killed all that stand before him. That's never been told no to what he wants to eat.

Your heart stops. Your voice a low whisper. "Stop,"

"You say that but you came in the house looking all desperate for sex and approval. You always look like that. Have for a little longer than what's normal for a girl your age,"

"I don't look like that!"

"You would've fucked that little college twerp if you stayed wouldn't you? Nothing wrong with honesty, brat."

Before you have a chance to understand what goes on around you, Sukuna changes position. You've never gotten a chance to feel and experience how strong he is - not like the way he's manhandling you now. You gasp at the arm around your waist and back. He pins you to the couch in a swift motion, not sure how he's done it, the alcohol making you dizzy.

Sukuna has never crossed the boundary with you like this before. Your heart is thumping loud, beating against your ribs. The source of it eludes you. If it's fear or discomfort or some other thing entirely causing such noice. 

There's a certain blase in his attitude that makes you forget momentarily about the taboo and gives way just to the tension between you. You feel it for the first time with his body pressed against you, all hot and heavy. He smells of cologne, but it lacks the acidity cheap ones tend to have. There’s strong hints of cigarettes and aftershave accompanying it. Appearance wise, he has lines in his face like a man in his forties. 

You don't know what's wrong with you. With a relationship so fucked up from the start, you thought crossing this line would feel different. You think you want to throw up, but you're completely calm. 

You want to be disgusted. You want to thrash and kick and scream and fight. You squirm away from him, the threads of what's left of your moral conscience urging you to do so. Like a last ditch effort to keep you sane. 

But there's just. Something. Something so inevitable about it that your heart doesn't beat at all. The panic itself feels hollow in nature. You are a rotted log and Sukuna has ripped the soft wood out of you with relative ease. But you’ve been that way for a long time, and nothing hurts. Not really.  

It's relieving in the worst way. 

"Get away from me,” You whisper again with noticeably less fight. Sukuna looks at you bright-eyed.

"You're a good kid," He says. The genuine praise knocks the air out of your lungs. That disgusts you more than anything else happening between you so far. "Interesting. A lot brighter than the other kids in our family."

Our family. You wince. .

"Stop, this is—" You don't know what word to use. He's your uncle and you're his niece and he's been gazing at you like this for god knows how fucking long. "Stop."

"You've got something going on behind your eyes at least, even if you're still just a wet-nosed and angry little housecat," He says, staring down at you. He's so imposing. His facial hair and his various tattoos. Everything about him, down to his bones. "But I can't tear my eyes away from you at the same time. You know that?."

You do know that. You cast your gaze away.

"I applaud how cautious you've been. But it didn't make a difference in the end. You know that too, right?"

You don't say anything.

"Clever little lamb you are, indeed. I like that about you." He hums, leaning down closer to you. His face is inches from yours. "You should be smart enough to know how this ends. But you know, you've been so entertaining to me this whole time I feel like I should at least be a little nice. So I'll offer you something. A deal of sorts, we can even write it on paper."

This catches your interest and he knows it does. He knows. You’re cut from the same cloth. And this place has made you lose your character, just like it always does. So if it means your survival and sanity or your morals, one comes before the other.

He grins at you.

"Come stay with me. Here in Nii-jima and back at my estate at home. I'll take care of your expenses and whatever else. I have better connections than the old hag," He says, leaning down even closer to you. You can smell him. He's intoxicating "You can be away from everything. I'll even let you have boyfriends and girlfriends over. You can throw sleepovers. I don't care. You can do whatever you want."

"What's in it for you?"

You can feel his knee press up against your cunt through your shorts and you gasp, hand going up to his shoulder. "This. Been thinking about this tight little cunt for a while now. You'd have to be at my beck and call. We'd be the closest uncle and niece in all of Japan," He snickers.

You wince at the reminder. You hate yourself for considering it. "Why me? There are plenty of women who are dying to fuck you."

He scoffs a little. 

"Once we get you a little farther from the trenches kid, you might start to understand me. Wealth, fortune, fame - all of it's fucking boring. I came back to Japan prepared to leave again but you made me stay. Not much more to it than that."

"You're fucking your blood-niece out of curiosity? Your sister's daughter?"

"My sister never did anything good with her life except marrying your father and making you." Sukuna says, and laughs lightly. You hate how validated it makes you feel. Your skin crawls. "I'll have to thank her for it. She'll be pleased.

You make a face at him, uncertainty. Apprehension. Fear. Frustration. Everything you’ve been compartmentalizing comes bubbling to the surface and making your head feel weighted with lead. You want to kill everyone and everything including him. You want to run away from this place. You want to go home, though you don’t know where that would be anymore. They demolished your old apartment years ago. 

You think spending a few years getting fucked and used might be less miserable than the suffocation of living with your mother and your baby brother and your grandparents. How much abuse you’ve endured already vs. what awaits you when their true heir starts to walk and talk horrifies you. 

You look at him. 

“You’re horrible.” 

“Tell me something new.” 

“I hate you. I don’t…want this. Any of this. I want to go home.” 

You’re just venting. Really. You’ve made the choice already. 

“Has there ever been a time where it’s been about what you want? I doubt it. But if you stay with me, appease my wishes for a while, well,” He laughs confidently. “You’ll get something, at least. Better than what you have.” 

“The contract. Are you serious about that?” 

He laughs at you. “Sure. If it makes you feel better, you can draft it and I’ll just have my lawyer sign. Bring your defenses. Whatever. Don’t really care as long as I get what I want.” 

“And that’s me?” 

“Seems like it,” 

You purse your lips. It seems like a rash decision to make in the moment, but truthfully your heads never felt so clear. Even with the alcohol. 

“...Fine.” 

Sukuna hums when you agree. It feels anti-climatic somehow. Not that he’s not expecting your yes but that you’ve come to accept it so easily. It’s not like this takes away from the coercion, from the awful feeling of being violated. Sukuna was going to rape you whether you liked it or not. This way, at least, you get something out of it. This way it’s something you choose. Something tangible results from your inevitable doom - the fate your mother damned you to. 

It affords you some plausible deniability too. In truth, you’re afraid for yourself. You’re afraid of what will happen when he finally does cross the line completely. You’re afraid you’re going to accept it, that it’s going to feel pleasurable, that years of repressing yourself will come back to make sure you never return to normalcy. 

What will become of you when Sukuna has his way with you? Will you become a more apathetic version of yourself? Is it possible? Will you sober and feel like scrubbing your skin clean in the shower? 

The worst outcome, you think, is nothing so horrible happening. The worst outcome is knowing you’ve fallen far enough for none of it matters at all. 

Sukuna grins down at you. “What a well-behaved niece I have. Good girl. You’ll do well living with me.” 

You make a displeased face at him, but your breath catches in your lungs soon after. Your uncle leans in to kiss you and you close your eyes trying to get away from it. But it’s true that your body has been burning up from the inside since you came back home - a dull throbbing between your legs turning you all kinds of stupid. 

When Sukuna kisses you - your first thought is that he’s unexpectedly gentle. 

You didn’t think he’d care about kissing to begin with. In your head you thought he’d tug off your shorts brutishly and fuck you without any prep. You were readying yourself for tears and pain, for screaming and crying - the sharp sobs of your own voice piercing your ears. 

A gentle press of lips startles you from your drunk haze. You can feel the scruff of Sukuna’s face on your own, your arms wrapping around his neck instinctively. The taste of cigarettes and something else mildly smokey fill your mouth and make you dizzy. Sukuna tastes like kissing a man - or what you might’ve imagined that to be like. Not a boy, but a man. You feel his strength, your hands splaying at the base of his neck and feeling the faded undercut of his neck, the texture of his dyed hair. His weight shadows you, his strength making you feel fluttery. 

He doesn’t tease you all during the kiss like you’re expecting. Nothing goes the way you expect. He kisses you in slow, short pecks and escalates to his tongue dipping against your lips - a little added element to his deep kisses. He kisses like he’s been doing it for longer than you have, with experience and finesse. You’re all but too conscious of everything little thing. About the sounds you make, about knowing when to breathe, about trying not to get wrapped up in the pleasant euphoria. 

All you can think about is how good he is at it. Effortlessly good. You think part of you latches onto it to avoid thinking about what’s happening. Denial feels pleasurable at least. 

You kiss like that for so long, your lips have swollen - sticky with spit and saliva. Sukuna has a self-satisfied smirk on his face when he pulls away from you, laughing at the flush in your expression. 

You hit him lightly, looking away from his face. 

“It’s a wonder you’ve kept your virginity,” He says, chuckling. “A kiss and a dirty old man like me could’ve taken it from you.” 

“Shut up,” Your reply is weak. He laughs against your mouth, and you can’t get over the intimacy of it. You hope you’re deluding yourself but then he kisses the corner of your mouth. Hot, warm air tickles against your jaw and neck when he presses his lips there too and suddenly it occurs to you how real it is. 

You don’t think your uncle is capable of warmth or love or anything that doesn’t come from coercion. But fondness. Maybe fondness. 

He spends more time doing that than what’s comfortable. Relishes the feeling of you in his arms, his bulge grinding against your clothed cunt but not forcefully. Just with enough pressure to make you gasp once in a while when you don’t have a mind to fight it. 

“I won’t take your virginity tonight,” He says declaratively. It surprises you. “You’ve got three months with me. It’d be boring. I’ll give you something else.” He looks at you then, then grins impishly. “What do you want?” 

Your eyes widen, suddenly unsure of yourself. You push away, brought back to reality by the questions. 

“How would I know?” 

He blinks at you. “I know you said you were a virgin, but did you really mean in everything?” 

You pout at him all of a sudden. “So what. I didn’t have that kind of time.” 

Sukuna barks a laugh. 

“Huh. I thought you were a goody two-shoes out of necessity but you really don’t do a damn thing in that house. Not even a boyfriend to do hand stuff with?” 

“Ugh. No, alright? I don’t have time for that kind of thing like I just said.” 

He laughs a little breathless, sitting up for a minute. You’re wondering what it means for you. Sukuna pulls you up along with him. He sits down again with his legs spread before looking at you. He pulls you into his lap with relative ease, until you’re half-way pressed into him with your legs over his thighs. You stare at him, feeling more exposed in this position. You get a closer view of his neck tattoo, realizing how far down his back it must go. You go to ask him what he’s doing - but he’s undressing you before you can. 

Confident, large hands trapeze down your back as he finds the end of your overwear and pulls it off - leaving you in the microkini you wore to the beach. It barely covers your nipples. You made the choice to wear it, yet seeing Sukuna examine it so closely leaves you wallowing and regretful. Still, he’s silent as he does something similar with your jean-shorts. A hand lifting your legs up enough to roll the cheap, denim shorts and discard them right on the marble floors. 

You’re still half-way over his lap - sitting on his thighs but you’re naked now.

You feel yourself growing self-conscious. Never mind that it’s the first time anyone’s seen you this naked, who exactly you’re showing it to makes you want to throw up. He stares for so long you wonder what he’s thinking, a lazy grin splitting his face. A hand nudges your thighs apart, moving your leg to give Sukuna more access to you. With an arm around your waist, his hand cups your cunt, rubbing it softly. You shift nervously. His thumb moves then, rests at the hood of your clit, pulling up to look closer at it. You hold back any noise as he examines you, bent pointer of the opposite hand brushing over the hair on your skin with a laugh. 

“Unexpectedly, it’s pretty,” He says and your eyes shoot wide open. “Good job brat.” 

“What are you,” You pant, your breath hitching as you close your eyes.”staring so much for it?” 

“It’s mine to stare at.”

You don’t think of your uncle as particularly possessive. It’s more like he believes in that so much, so unshakingly nothing else could be true. You wonder if there’s more to it. He didn’t seem angry even after you told him about seeing a boy. 

But comparing the two, Sukuna outclasses him in all ways that it should matter. He must be confident about that. 

He spreads your thighs a little further. You’re half tucked into his side now - an arm around the back of his neck and shoulders. Sukuna ducks down a little, nudging his nose against your neck and scraping his teeth lightly against your throat. He doesn’t do much other than… touch you. Not directly. His other hand, the one not secured around your waist, rubs at your pussy but not in an attempt to pleasure you. It’s exploratory and intimate. He’s just touching you in a way that’s making you restless. And the angle he’s bent down, the proximity gives you a better view of him. From the side where you sit in his lap, you can see the tattoo again. 

You shudder then, pussy suddenly clenching in a way that leaves you ashamed. Your uncle notices, though he doesn’t look up. 

“Thought of something, brat?” 

“No.” You deny, vehemently. He spanks your pussy but not hard. You jolt in reply, a shock traveling up your spine. 

“C’mon now,” He hums, predatory. “Don’t lie. That’s not fun.” 

“Y-your tattoo,” You say, suddenly feeling the influence of alcohol in a way you hadn’t all evening. “It’s…big.”

“Into bad boys or something, kid?” 

You frown. “You look like a yakuza.” 

This makes him laugh, more genuinely than you’ve ever seen him laugh. “Getting warmer, I guess.” 

You don’t say anything to that. Instead spurred by the sudden confidence. “Why aren’t you…touching me?” 

He looks at you surprised then tilts his head. “Is that what you want? 

“I don’t want any of this but it,” You squirm again. “Feels weird.”

“Sounds like you want something, at least. Go on, tell your oji-san what you want.” 

You scrunch your nose up at him, a familiar feeling of disgusting flitting through you. It fades as quickly as it comes.

“I’ve never put a-anything inside,” You admit, suddenly feeling self-conscious. 

“That so,” He hums. His middle finger slides down the wet seam of your cunt as you tell him this. You nod but you don’t think he’s really listening. His hand is warm, and big - and his fingers are thicker than yours. One of yours may as well make two of his, no end to how imposing he is. You don’t protest as he starts to touch you. You simply take a deep breath, holding onto him a little tighter. 

With your head turned towards him, Sukuna leans in again to kiss you. It’s deep from the beginning this time, and a little rougher. He bites lightly on your lower lips as his middle finger dips down towards your sex. Your insides are throbbing, hot and wet as you feel some friction. It’s the first time anyone else has ever held you in your life, every touched you directly like this. Against your will, your body is sensitive to the stimulus. Everywhere he touches you goes alight, and the kiss makes your tummy flutter. A tender feeling of want spreads you open, tears you apart right in front of him. 

With parted lips and a heavy head, you kiss him as his middle finger dips down low enough to penetrate you. A soft gasp pulls from your throat. 

It doesn’t feel unpleasant.

“I thought it was going to hurt more.” You admit, feeling him inside of you. It’s a new sensation but it’s not bad. 

“It shouldn’t hurt if you’re aroused enough. And wet enough. You seem to be both.” 

You frown at him, face pinching. It’s washed away quickly by the sensation of him pushing deeper. It’s hard to describe it as anything other than feeling something inside of you. Deep in a place you didn’t think it could go. You shake a little, trying to get adjusted. Sukuna does it carefully, slowly - thrusting in even strokes and keeping you focused on kissing so you’re not too conscious of it. 

He’s not thoughtful, not really - but you can tell that he’s going slower for your sake and that makes your heart stammer uncomfortably. The last word you’d ever use for him is kind but he’s not being horrible and it’s unsettling you. 

Once one finger goes in and out smoothly, your uncle starts to add another. You feel it that time, the stretch of it - gasping hard at the sudden sensation. Your breath catches in your lungs, hand clutching at his shoulder for purchase. He pulls away from your mouth, his breath near your ear. 

“Easy, little one. Give it a minute.” 

“It feels different. It’s,” You can’t form the words as two fingers penetrate you in full, slowly being eased inside of you until Sukuna is knuckle deep. Your breath hitches. “Not like it hurts.” 

“It’ll feel good in a second.” He says assuredly, voice smooth and raspy against your ear. You feel combative at his confidence, but then a minute passes of him rubbing along your insides and something strikes against you like lightning. You pause, blinking confused as Sukuna laughs. “There it is,” 

“There what is?” 

“C’mon kid, I know you’re too busy with school but you don’t know something so basic about your own body?” 

“What is it, oh.” 

His other hand toys with your clit, rubbing it in slow circular motions as he gauges your reaction to the touch. You jolt from the sudden pleasure, getting used to it slowly. You didn’t realize how badly it was throbbing to be touched until he does it in full. Your mouth dries up immediately. Little shocks of electricity spark up through you as his hands go full in on your body. The combined pleasure starts to uptick, something building slowly but surely. It goes from not feeling like much to feeling like something. Feeling physical. 

Your mouth drops open in sudden shock, eyes lidded as you moan unabashedly - unable to keep the sound at bay. You own a vibrator, use to cum quick and hard just to curb the feeling. You’ve had orgasms on your own but nothing has ever felt like this before. It’s undeniably satiating, mimics the feeling of eating something and nearly making yourself sick on it. You go slack-jawed, your nerves on fire. 

Two fingers curled against your silken walls and another two toying at the sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs leaves little room in your brain to think. The only thing your body seems to remember is how to moan and whine - make these pathetic little noises you’ve never heard in your life. You didn’t even know you could make. Oddly enough, Sukuna is quiet through it. He makes grunts and little affirmatives but he’s mostly silent. You mostly hear the sound of your own voice. 

The sound of your own wetness. You can feel the sticky sensation of your arousal but you can hear it even better. It’s lewd to listen too, wet smacks mixing with the pathetic bleats of your voice make you feel hot all over. Skin prickling with heat and sensation. 

“I knew you were sensitive but haah. If I would’ve fucked you today, you would have cried.” 

The thought drifts idly by about his cock and your whole lower half reacts to it by going weak. It aches just thinking about anything bigger or longer entering you than his fingers. 

“Figure an insolent little kid like you isn’t much of a crybaby. I’m sure I can make you one.” 

You don’t even think about asking what he means. 

“Feels,” You make a gasping noise, body suddenly going tense. “Hngh, fuck. Feels so good, holy fuck.” 

He groans a little. “I’m being too nice to you. I really should be balls deep in your cunt already and I’m not. You gonna cum for me, huh brat?” 

You nod your head dumbly, unable to retort. To think of anything but the sensation washing over you.”Go on. Do it. Cum for your perverted oji-san.”  

Something about the depravity of it sets your mind numb. Your body goes tight, every nerve firing off at once as you grip onto his shoulder and let the feeling of euphoria wash over you. Your whole body is so stimulated it’s numbing. The feeling of pleasure crashes into you, leaves your spine arching - mouth dropped open and nearly screaming. Your sanity melts, fades off completely and your brain feels like it’s gone empty. You close your eyes so hard little splashes of white show up in your vision, like you’re seeing T.V. static. 

You think you scream. You don’t know. You just know that you’re cumming, hard, just from his hands and you’re terrified of what else he’s good at. You don’t think it boils down to sensitivity as the waves of your first orgasm ripple through your body. 

You lay in his arms, sweaty and limp. Your vision is blurry with tears as you open them to look at him. Sukuna is rubbing your side, taking his fingers into his mouth. You look at him surprised as he does. He grins. 

“Tastes good, kid.”

You flush. “Shut up.” 

“Don’t think I’m done with you quite yet.”

Sukuna guides your hand to his pants, over his bulge. You gasp a little at it. His size through clothes is astounding to you. 

“I’m not so generous to leave with nothing, you know.” He pats your thigh, moving you from his lap. “I’ve got a better idea than trying to teach you anything today, so try to hold still.” 

You don’t know what he’s talking about until he guides you on the floor. You’re confused until you feel him position you  - facing towards the couch with your knees spread on the floor. In doggy, you realize a little too late, your upper-half supported by the couch cushion. You feel more confused than you felt a moment ago. 

Sukuna positions himself behind you. You can’t see him, but you can hear the soft rustle of his clothes moving as he stands on his knees behind you. More than that, you can feel his cock resting on your bare ass. You gasp, feeling the weight and size slide against your curves. Sukuna does a breathy little laugh at your reaction. He’s huge. 

“Don’t cry kid. I told you I wasn’t gonna put it in tonight and I meant that,” He hums. His hands come to your hips, all of a sudden pushing them together. “Push your thighs together as tight as you can.” 

You listen to him. You can do it with some effort despite how weak your body feels. You lean forward on the couch for support, bringing your knees together and pressing your thighs. You don’t understand what it’s for until something hard pressing along your spine moves down the curve of your ass. You gasp aloud as his thick cock pushes between your thighs, tip catching against your swollen clit. Your whole body is covered in goosebumps. Sukuna moans low in his throat, resting his head on your shoulder. 

“Fuck, that’s it.” He hums, sounding pleased. “Keep them tight for me, alright girl? Try to at least.” 

Sukuna is wordless as he grips your hips, your flesh dimpling under his bruising grip. You're silent, your voice threatening to spill again as you try your best to listen to him. You keep yourself tight and firm, your hands gripping the couch cushions as Sukuna pushes his cock between the fat of your thighs and starts a pace.

The angle makes you gasp, body feeling weak at the way it touches your clit with each bump. Sukuna doesn’t hold back at all. You’re not being penetrated but the weight behind each of his thrusts makes you feel like you’re being fucked. The bruising sensation of skin against skin - the hard muscles of his own legs smacking against the softness of your thighs. 

Most embarrassing is the way the position makes you conscious of your uncle's cock. You knew he was huge before, but the way he’s thrusting. Where it reaches when he does thrust makes your throat feel nearly tight. You can’t stop thinking about the fact it’ll be inside you. You can’t imagine taking it in your hands - the girth and length of it fucking impossible. And he wants to fuck you with it? Take your virginity? 

He’ll stretch you so open if he does. You can barely think of it fitting in you. When you do, your whole body shudders in a horrible and pathetic way - a new wave of arousal striking a strange chord. As he bumps and ruts against your clit and your mind fills with such lewd images, a new wave of lust starts to pour through you. 

It’s unhelped by the feeling of Sukuna’s cock - getting so close. The throbbing with each thrust and the low, throaty groans he keeps vocalizing against your ear. All of it proves to be too much for you. It shocks you when you feel yourself grow hot all over again. Not even being touched directly and so soon after your first - a mere few minutes. 

And you find yourself with all your muscles tight, your hand reaching back for Sukuna as you plant your face against the cushions and let him fuck hard between your thighs. You feel incoherent, stupid and so fucking horny. You’ve never experienced it. You can’t think of what to moan, so you choose his name. 

This makes him laugh as he bends over you, his teeth biting your shoulder blades. 

“Gonna cum again from this brat? Aren’t you fucking easy? Come on, cum with me. Just like that, take it. Fuck, that’s it. Good. Good girl.” 

It’s the last bit of tension that pushes you over the edge, whether you care to admit it. Your voice breaks as a second orgasm washes through you - more intense but much shorter than the first and you nearly fall limp. You only barely manage to hold yourself up as your uncle keeps thrusting relentlessly. 

You can feel him twitch hard between your thighs when his orgasm finally hits. You shake as you feel him squish the tip between your thighs - hot ropes of cum spurting against the swollen mound of your cunt and dripping down your thighs as he finishes. He smacks your ass as he finishes, making you yelp. Your whole body is rife with exhaustion, finally coming down from high-highs and low-lows. 

“We’re gonna have a lot of fun together for the next few months kid,” He says, almost affection in his words. You’re too exhausted to reply, looking at him over your shoulder. “Let’s get along and do our best.” 

“You’re a sick-fuck, oji-san.” 

“And you’re a whole lot like me, aren’t you kid?.” 

[p0orbaby]

Crushology 101: How to Seal the Deal with Your Crush

summary: sometimes it’s best just to keep your mouth shut

warnings: none !

a/n: thanks for the request !

word count: 1.4k

-

The Arsenal Women’s changing room is a circus on a good day, but today, it’s a full-blown carnival. Your request for advice on how to handle your crush has somehow turned into an entire production. You’d expected a few tips, maybe a funny comment or two, but what you get is an experience—complete with a PowerPoint presentation, three rounds of applause, and enough snacks to fuel a small army.

It starts innocently enough. You’re sitting in the corner, tying your laces, trying to pretend like your palms aren’t sweating at the mere thought of your new love interest. Leah saunters over, a mischievous grin on her face that suggests she’s about to ruin your life—or at least make it a whole lot more interesting.

“So, who’s the lucky one?” she asks, and suddenly, it feels like all eyes are on you.

Your attempt to play it cool is laughable at best. “It’s no one… just someone”

“That’s code for ‘definitely someone,’” Katie chimes in, appearing out of nowhere like she’s been waiting her whole life for this conversation.

Before you can backtrack, Leah’s already pulled a chair up beside you, her hand hovering over your shoulder in a way that’s supposed to be comforting but only serves to make you more nervous. “You came to the right people,” she says, as if she’s got a PhD in crush management. “We’re experts in these matters”

Katie plops down on your other side, sandwiching you between them. “Yeah, between the two of us, we’ve crushed and been crushed on more times than you can count”

Leah nods solemnly, as though this is a badge of honor. “Which is why we took the liberty of preparing a little something for you”

Your confusion only deepens as they both exchange a conspiratorial look. Before you can ask what they mean, Leah stands up, clapping her hands together like she’s just announced halftime.

“Ladies, the moment we’ve all been waiting for!” she yells, and suddenly the entire team is circling around you. You don’t know whether to feel honored or deeply concerned.

Vic wheels out a whiteboard, scribbled with notes that look suspiciously like they’ve been written by a five-year-old on a sugar high. Steph flips open a laptop, and you realise with dawning horror that they weren’t kidding about the presentation.

“Welcome to Crushology 101,” Leah announces, her voice dripping with the authority of a university lecturer. “Today, we’ll be guiding our dear, sweet Y/N through the treacherous waters of having a crush. Please hold your questions until the end, and don’t worry—there will be refreshments”

“Or, if you can’t hold them, just shout them out. We’re all friends here,” Katie adds, because apparently, there’s no controlling this chaos.

The PowerPoint flickers to life on the screen. The first slide, in bright red Comic Sans, reads: “Step 1: Know Thy Crush.” Below it, there’s a picture of a heart with googly eyes. It’s both terrifying and strangely endearing.

“Right, so the first thing you need to do,” Leah begins, “is figure out if your crush is actually crush-worthy. You know, make sure they’re not a serial killer, or worse, a Spurs fan”

The room bursts into laughter, except for you, because you’re too busy trying to figure out if they’re serious.

“Think of it like a scouting report,” Beth chimes in from the back, like she’s talking about an upcoming match instead of your love life. “Check out their strengths, weaknesses, and potential for future growth. If they’ve got good banter and a solid left foot, you’re onto a winner”

Katie points to the next slide, which features an image of an extremely confused-looking cartoon character. “This is where you do your recon,” she says. “Social media, mutual friends, the works. Be subtle but thorough. You’re not stalking—you’re just… strategically gathering information”

Leah nods seriously. “Exactly. Think of it as research. Just don’t get caught liking their photos from 2015, or you’re screwed”

“Big no-no,” Katie agrees, and you’re starting to wonder if they’re speaking from experience.

You’re not entirely sure how to respond, so you settle for a weak nod and a whispered, “Got it”

But they’re already moving on to the next slide, titled “Step 2: The Art of Flirting” with an image of two stick figures winking at each other. One of the figures appears to be shooting finger guns, which you hope to God isn’t meant to be literal advice.

Leah’s grin is wide and full of mischief. “Flirting is all about confidence,” she explains, as if she’s reading out of a textbook. “It’s like playing mind games, but with more smiling and less VAR”

“And less of a chance of getting booked,” Katie adds, which earns her a chuckle from the rest of the team.

Alessia takes over at this point, clicking to the next slide that reads “Step 2a: The Casual Compliment.”

“Compliments are key,” she says, and the way she’s nodding makes you wonder if she’s ever complimented anyone in her life. “But don’t go overboard. You’re not writing a love sonnet here”

“Unless you’re actually good at poetry,” Katie adds. “In which case, go for it, but keep it modern. No one likes a Shakespeare knock-off”

Leah claps her hands together again, snapping your attention back to the screen. “And now for the practical part: roleplay!”

Your stomach drops as Beth steps forward, smirking in a way that makes you seriously consider running for the nearest exit.

“Alright, shortstack,” she says, “I’m your crush. Impress me”

You blink at her, completely frozen. This is your worst nightmare come to life, and the fact that the entire team is watching isn’t helping.

Beth tilts her head expectantly, and when you don’t immediately respond, she says, “You can start with a compliment. I hear my eyes are mesmerising”

You stammer something that’s supposed to be a compliment but ends up sounding more like you’re choking on air. The team erupts into laughter, and you’re sure you’re going to die of embarrassment right then and there.

Katie steps in, saving you from further humiliation. “Okay, maybe let’s move on to the next step,” she suggests, still grinning. “Flirting isn’t for everyone”

The next slide reads “Step 3: The First Date—Make or Break.” There’s a picture of a candlelit dinner, but it’s so poorly drawn that it looks more like a scene from a horror movie.

“This is the big one,” Leah says, her tone suddenly serious. “The first date is where you either seal the deal or end up in the friend zone”

Caitlyn raises a hand. “Pro tip: Avoid talking about exes, politics, or how much you love your cat”

Steph raises her hand too, even though she doesn’t need to. “Also, avoid garlic if you plan on kissing. Unless they’re into that, in which case, garlic away”

“Read the room,” Leah advises, clicking to the next slide, which is just a giant picture of a thumbs up. “And remember, the most important thing is to be yourself. Unless yourself is a nervous wreck, in which case, fake it till you make it”

“Be yourself, but better,” Katie clarifies, and the whole team nods like this is the wisest thing anyone has ever said.

You’re halfway between laughing and crying when the final slide comes up. It’s just two words: “Good Luck!” followed by a winking emoji. It’s not exactly the reassurance you were hoping for, but at this point, you’re not sure what else you expected.

Leah closes the laptop with a flourish and turns to you with a satisfied smile. “There you have it. Everything you need to win over your crush”

“And if it doesn’t work,” Katie adds, “just remember, we’re always here for post-date analysis”

“Or to take you out for drinks,” Laura offers, which, to be honest, sounds like a much safer bet than whatever just happened.

The team disperses, leaving you standing there, still processing the whirlwind of advice you’ve just been subjected to. You’re not sure if you’re more prepared or just more confused, but one thing’s for sure—you’ll never forget this day.

Leah gives you a final pat on the back. “You’ve got this, Y/N. Just remember: be cool, be confident, and whatever you do, don’t let them see you sweat”

Katie grins at you one last time before heading out. “And if all else fails, just show them this PowerPoint. They’ll either laugh or run away, but at least you’ll know where you stand”

You smile back, finally allowing yourself to laugh. It’s ridiculous, it’s over the top, and it’s exactly what you needed.

As the door closes behind them, you look down at your phone and think, Maybe I’ll give this flirting thing a shot after all. And if it all goes wrong… well, at least I’ll have one hell of a story to tell.

[brynnterpretations]

Where Damage Isn’t Already Done

Victoria Neuman x Wife!Reader

The worst thing about it is the coffee.

⌗ fluff ⌗ fix-it ⌗ short-fic ⌗ title from "where damage isn't already done" by the radio dept.

Contains spoilers for The Boys, Season 4, Episode 8. Please do not click read more unless you have watched it.

You and Vic had talked about what your dream home with each other would be even when you first started dating. It was therapeutic, you supposed; considering you met each other at a Vought gala, you knew that you wouldn’t be very normal, nor would your relationship. Even if you somehow got everything you wanted — Vic as President, you practicing law, conflict of interest only in the bedroom — there was no such thing as retiring. Or relaxing, really. So, you talked about it. Vic wanted a beautiful home in Big Sur, overlooking the ocean, with an easy route down for Zoe to play, or maybe a Roman villa in the heart of the Spanish countryside, surrounded by sheep and farm animals — you’d be the ones taking care of them, though, Vic did not do farm animals. Certainly, it wasn’t this.

“Where is this, even?” asked Zoe. Honestly, neither you nor Vic really knew outside of being somewhere in the southwest, where even the bison looked miserable. You took another glance at your new ID on the table, your fake name and fake smile staring back at you. Despite you three being on strict orders from the CIA and the entirety of the Boys coup to never leave the house — thank God they’d given you basic living essentials — they’d still given you IDs just in case.

You sat down at the table. Victoria flipped through Zoe’s homework assignment, taken from a homeschooling book Hughie was kind enough to give to you all considering you weren’t permitted to use Internet, before passing it to you. You snorted quietly once you took a glance; it was English, a weak spot for Vic, considering her aversion to anything impractical. You doubted she wanted to hear anymore about Moby Dick than she’d probably already heard years ago. “Well, the thing they stressed was where we’re not.” 

Zoe made a sour face, but when Victoria pressed a kiss to her forehead, it dissolved. She passed you a cup of coffee and sat at the table. “How’s the book?”

“Fine,” shrugged Zoe. “It’s easy.”

Looking over Zoe’s essay, you could tell she’s telling the truth. “This is great, Zoe.”

“Thanks,” smiled Zoe. She ate her Cheerios with a bit more enthusiasm. You all were still getting used to not having fresh-cooked food. You took a look at the coffee. Truthfully, you and Vic had become huge coffee snobs after you came across the term “third-wave coffee” on Twitter, and as you looked into its inky depths, you tried to forget about Café Integral and Third Rail. Do not think of a rosemary espresso tonic right now. Do not think of a rosemary espresso tonic right now. 

“Oh, Jesus,” she said suddenly, spitting out her coffee. “I don’t think there’s even any coffee in this.” 

You looked over at Victoria, who was dressed in an argyle sweater, slacks, and fuzzy socks that you’d gifted her for Christmas, even though neither of you celebrated. It wasn’t often you didn’t see her in her power gear or without makeup, and she looked younger. Better. It would be stupid to think that it made her look carefree — you all were boiling with tension, terrified of laser beams blasting through the creaky, deteriorating front door — but it certainly made it feel different. As if, after you and Vic had bled and fought only to end up where you started again in New York City, you were finally somewhere that would bring different results.

“I’ll get you some water,” you said, pressing a kiss to her cheek.

Maybe you weren't in a vista house or beside beautiful oceans or even in a place that had good coffee, but as Zoe and Vic began bickering over Moby Dick, you couldn't imagine why that would ever matter.

[mysticfalls01]

The Decision

(AWFC x reader)

Getting your first call up to the senior team was terrifying.

When Leah tore her ACL she was devastated and was worried for her team. She knew that there was a spot available in the first team for Arsenal and she knew exactly who the right person was to cover her position until she was ready to comeback.

She had been following your football journey with Arsenal’s academy, you joined the academy when you were only 12 years old and ever since you had been there.

Leah Williamson is your idol; she is the one who inspired you to become a defender. You wanted to do the same as her, go through the academy ranks until you could get your debut with the first team.

As soon as she realized that her spot was available, she told Jonas about you. Nothing else would fulfill her heart more than another talent from the academy playing in her place.

The moment Jonas accepted her recommendation you couldn’t believe it, with only 18 years you were going to have your debut.

When you learned that Leah was the one who recommended you the tears started coming out. You immediately sent her a message thanking her for the recommendation while also saying that you wouldn’t disappoint her.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Playing your debut was a dream came true. The team received you with open arms and quickly adopted you as the baby of their family. Katie became the cool aunt, Leah, and Lotte your big sisters, Beth and Viv became your team mums even if they still were in recovery and Steph became your mentor.

After having an incredible performance for the games that you played last season with the first team Arsenal offered you a formal contract so you could stay with them.

Not only Arsenal noticed your amazing performances but so did Serina Wiegman. You had played for England U’19 team however, you hadn’t had your debut for a senior team and with your father being Dutch either of both national teams could call you up.

Sarina called you after the World Cup, she told you about the possibility of playing for the senior team of the Lionesses. When you received the call, you were in shock, in less than a year your dreams of playing for a national team and for the first team of Arsenal could come true.

A few days later Andries Jonker called you to see if you were interested in playing for the Oranje Leeuwinnen.

In the Arsenal locker room, everyone knew that you could play for both national teams and with the Nations League starting soon you needed to take a decision. You were scared to see the reactions of your team when you had to take the decision.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

Everyone in the locker room wanted to know your decision as it hadn’t been announced so, as everyone started changing clothes for the training session a discussion started.

“Oi! y/nn. Have you decided for which team to play?” Katie asked with a loud voice.

“Her favorite color is orange, so the answer is obvious” Vic said with a proud smile

“No! We all know that her future is to be a Lioness!” said Beth also with a proud smile

“Yeah! White really suits her so no doubt she’ll be a Lioness!” Alessia said

Leah could see in your face a worried expression. She sat next to your cubicle and whispered “y/nn it doesn’t matter for who are you going to play I’m proud of you. Everything that you have accomplished in such a short time has been incredible. You’ve earned it”

It was time for the training session and the discussion was still going on.

“Girls! We need to start! I’m sure that y/n will take a decision soon. Whichever team she decides to play for will be lucky to have her. So, let’s start training” you couldn’t help but to send Jonas a thankful smile as you hated to be the center of attention.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

It was the day when the squads for the firsts Nations League games were going to be announced.

Your decision had already been taken as you called. Some days ago, you talked with one of the managers to thank him/her for the opportunity but that you had decided to play for the other national team.

The whole team was in the cafeteria eating when a sound from the television called their attention.

“Breaking news!

The squads for the Nations League games have been announced. Arsenal’s talented young defender y/n l/n has taken her decision! Y/n has decided to reject the offer from the Dutch National Team and officially is a Lioness!”

As soon as those words left the Sky News presenter mouth you could see your team’s reaction.

Katie was receiving 20 pounds from Lia as they had a bet going on.

The Aussies were giving you proud smiles as they knew that your dream of representing a country was coming true.

Beth and Alessia started singing “It’s coming home” jokingly and Lotte couldn’t help but to laugh at them.

Viv and Vic were giving them fake sad faces.

And finally, Leah, she had an enormous smile on her face.

Viv and Vic stood up and hugged you.

“y/nn don’t worry I know that you started creating fake scenarios in your head about Vic and me being upset at you and those couldn’t be farther from the truth. We are proud of you” Viv whispered to your ear.

“Yeah y/nn! Remember that if it doesn’t works the Oranje Leeuwinnen will always be there for you” Vic said winking at you.

You gave them a shy smile and before you could talk Alessia took your hand a brought you next to Beth, Lotte and Leah.

“y/n! I can’t wait for you to formally meet Tooney!” said Alessia.

Beth and Leah couldn’t help but to jokingly groan as they knew that a chaotic trio was about to be formed.

“Also, y/nn you can learn a lot from Millie and from Lucy!” said Lotte.

You let them talk while you realized that there was nothing to be worried for. Arsenal was your second family, and nothing would have changed even after the decision.

[incorrect-losers]

Mike: As a member of the Bowers Gang, is it a distraction being gay?

Eddie *terrified*: AGH

Mike:

Bowers Gang:

The losers:

Vic:

Vic: Thank you

Eddie: What??

Vic: I’ve been holding it in for so long

Vic *turning to the Bowers Gang*: Fellas, I’m gay

Henry: That’s okay Vic, so are we

Vic: Really?

Belch: Yeah

Eddie: ???

[sunflowerchester]

It's week 2 of A Sam Girl Retrospective and this week your host, Audree, is joined by guest host, Vic (@peanutbutterandbananasandwichs)! They discuss the next two epsiodes of season 1 and all the wonderful elements that make the early seasons so special. Be sure to find visuals for this episode on our Instagram, including graphics showing the break down of how we rate these episodes. 

Acknowledgement: Episode 2 of Supernatural does deal with a creature from indigenous lore and we want to be sensitive to that. I've included a link discussing how to be respectful if writing your own story, should you decide to include one. We also want to acknowledge that the show may not have been as sensitive in how it included this creature, so I've added a chapter break in case anyone would like to skip past our discussion straight to "Dead In the Water."

E2 discussion begins at 9:10 E3 discussion begins at 43:16

Thank you to Tumblr user eruthiawenluin for talking through concerns about this with us! We definitely want the podcast to be accessible to everyone. 

Writing With Color on Tumblr

Episode Resources:

The rosery beads post Vic mentions

The terrifying moment the ghost boy looks above the water line

Fangasm

Sam Winchester Caps 

Find us on all platforms!

Follow us on IG for visuals and updates. Follow us on Tiktok for clips and memes.

Subscribe to the show on:Apple Spotify Youtube Patreon And anywhere else you listen to podcasts!

[lostonehero]

PLEASE elaborate on the werewolf Elias idea omfg

That sounds so interesting

Hope you're ready for a lore dump

So Elias 7th born werewolf actually a big terrifying wolf during the full moon

Problem

Elias can not grow facial hair and has little to no body hair, which is incredibly rare, and he's thin and small, which again is abnormal for a natural born werewolf first off, so he is easily mistaken as human

Second fears are entirely separate from this supernatural side so Jonah has no fucking idea about any of it and thinks it's fake and doesn't exist because again removed from the fears or the fears have a bastardized version of the creature (ex stranger changling hunt wolf end vampire etc etc)

Jonah doesn't choose who his eyes get placed in the Beholder does (this is cannon to my fics fight me) so the whole things happens and Elias isn't dead surprise they are sharing a body. Jonah doesn't let Elias have control.

Jonah gets settled and can't marry Peter because Elias is born male. Move in together in the span of two weeks.

(Fun fact another cannon to my fics. Jonah is originally a Trans man. I just wanted to put that out there)

Elias is throwing alarm bells as it gets closer and closer to the full moon. Jonah thinks he is crazy and doesn't understand why he isn't gone yet.

Peter likes that Elias is in their, spices things up, but he does roll with the werewolf thing and uses every version of a puppy nickname.

Elias is basically trying to force himself in control and tries amd fails to get Jonah to get Peter to leave right until the moon rises

The morning after comes

Elias has control

Jonah is fucking confused and slightly scared to see everything a mess Peter has bloody bandages on.

"I told you to eat more, but noooo I'm the fucking crazy one." Elias huffs as he puts a pair of boxers on in the mess. "I'm crazy werewolves aren't real. Like here's your fucking proof asshat."

Jonah is too stunned to fight back for control, which he won't get until Elias lets him

"I haven't turned anyone since I was born and you fucking ruined that." Elias finds his phone through the mess and dials a number he knows by heart. "Hush up you damn vic- edwardian cunt." He sighs. "No, Oliver, I wasn't talking to you. Look, it's complicated. I'll text you the address, and yes, I did turn someone, but like, I'm also possessed by one Jonah Magnus.... yes, I know.... well how the fuck was I suppose to know I would get his eyes? Ok... yeah, that would be great. No, I can clean up. You don't have to help it's not as bad as I thought.... yeah that would be nice... what do I owe you? Don't give me that just because... fine, fine, you're right... thanks, man."

Time passes Peter is carried into bed and tea is placed on the bedside table and the apartment is cleaned before there is a knock.

"You got an end avatar to help us?" Jonah stares at Oliver, who answers the door.

Elias sighs heavily. "He's not just an end avatar, Jonah. Oliver is a vampire he was turned around the black death, and not one of the fear ones. Sorry, I'm still getting used to sharing a body. You can come in. I just finished cleaning, Peter is inside in bed, but he still hasn't woken up. He just got the fever yaknow."

Oliver steps in holding up two large bags. "I got all the stuff you need for yourself and him. You look like shit."

"Thanks." Elias sighs, taking a bag. "The asshole wouldn't listen when I said eat more, and I just barely started to get a bit of fat on my body too. That's gone. At least I know all his suit fittings are ruined."

Oliver sighs, but it sounds like a wheeze. "I'll look over Peter for you. Hopefully, he isn't having a bad reaction to the bite. Oh yeah, let our group know the whole deal with Jonah and sharing a body. I also got the paperwork started for Peter when he feels well enough to well you know grip what happened."

Elias nods. "Yeah, I get it."

Jonah has no idea what is going on and is freaking out

This entire conversation Jonah is freaking out and Elias is just ignoring him

[englishstrawbie]

For the fluff prompt list, Marina: :)

“I could never not love you.”

“I can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it.”

Thank you for the prompt and for being patient while I write it! I hope you enjoy this. 😊

>>>>>>>>>>

Carina is quiet when they get home. Maya watches her from afar as she puts Liam in his cot for a nap before heading into the kitchen to make tea. Her lips are pursed, her expression downcast as she keeps her eyes trained on the steam that rises from the boiling water she has just poured into her mug.

Maya leans against the wall, her hands tucked into the pockets of her pants.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” Carina turns her head over her shoulder, but doesn’t life her gaze to look at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Her question causes Carina’s back to tense as a gentle sigh escapes from her mouth.

“No,” she says quietly.

Maya can’t really blame her. They have just spent two hours at the lawyer’s office talking and planning.

The final steps of Liam’s adoption had brought tears of happiness as they had signed the papers to officially be his moms. Liam had been unperturbed as they had cuddled him tightly, more interested in the plush teddy that Vic had sent from Washington a few weeks ago which he has refused to put down since it had arrived. 

They had started the process of Maya’s adoption of the baby girl that will arrive in a few months. Carina had been the one to raise it, wanting to make sure that Maya’s status as mama would be equally recognised in law. Naively, it was only then that Maya had realised how few rights she would have over her own child if it wasn’t for a piece of paper.

Sometimes she hears Mason’s voice in her head, no matter how hard she tries to block it out. She knows he is wrong, but sometimes she can’t help but let a bit of doubt creep in – the voices of her past haunting her. Carina always notices it, as if reading her mind, and, the next thing Maya knows, little reassurances will start to appear. Last week, Maya had arrived home from work to a card from Liam, decorated with his handprints, declaring her kisses to be his favourites. It is still sat proudly on the shelf above the fireplace.

Maya knows it is not these things that have brought about Carina’s silence.

It was the talk of death and living wills and advance directives. It was thoughts of more loss, when there has been too much of that already. It was Maya’s adamance that she did not want to be hooked up to a machine and the thought that one day Carina might have to let her go. It was the image of a future without Maya by her side. It was the terrifying fear of leaving behind their two babies if their nightmares became real.

Maya pushes herself away from the wall and walks over to where Carina is stood, sliding her hands around her waist and placing them on the small bump she carries, her chin resting on Carina’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Maya says, grateful when she feels Carina’s demeanour soften a little.

“I’m okay,” Carina says, putting her hand on top of Maya’s and squeezing it gently. “I just…” She shakes her head a little. “I can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it.”

Maya knows it is hard for Carina to imagine the worst, having lived through so much heartbreak already. For Maya, it has been drilled into her ever since she joined the fire service how important it is to have your affairs in order; and she has always been able to compartmentalise it – until now.

Now, she has a wife and a son, and a daughter on the way. She knows what it is like to love and be loved.

Now, she knows true happiness.  

Now, she has something to lose.

“Me neither.” She brings her hands to Carina’s hips and encourages her to turn around. “So��� I’ve been thinking.”

Carina’s eyebrows arch with curiosity.

“I want to talk to Chief Ross about my options within SFD and whether she’ll support my promotion to captain.”

Maya catches the way Carina’s left eyebrow crinkles.

“Not immediately,” she clarifies. “I want to stay at 19 for a while, to support Andy, especially with so many changes to the team lately. But I’m ready and it’s what I want, one day. And being captain takes me out of the fires – most of the time, at least. And that’s good for us, for our family.”

Carina inhales a shaky breath. “And what if Chief Ross says no?”

“Then I look at my options outside of SFD,” Maya says resolutely.

“No, bella, I would never ask you to do that,” Carina starts to say, but Maya cuts her off.

“This is my decision. For you, for Liam, for our little bambina.” A smile crosses her lips as she runs her hand over the bump between them. “I will do whatever it takes to make you feel better.”

Carina responds with a bone-crushing hug, pulling Maya into her arms and holding on to her tightly.

“I love you, Maya.”

Maya smiles into her thick dark hair. “I’m glad to hear it. And I’ve gotta make sure you keep on loving me.”

Carina straightens, her hands lifting to cup Maya’s face. “Amore mio, I could never not love you. No matter what our future looks like, my heart will always be yours.”

Tears prick Maya’s eyes as she smiles. “And mine will always be yours.”

She draws Carina in for a kiss then, hard and slow, feeling every bit of tension falling from her body. Carina relaxes in her arms, the tea forgotten, left to go cold on the side.

“Come, my love,” Carina says in between kisses. “Let’s go to bed before our little principe wakes up.”

[angelofverdum]

Station 19 S07e10

19!

I'm overwhelmed by feelings. It's amazing how much fictional characters can make you feel.

My hope and wish for the end of these characters was for them to have a resolution and be happy.

Honestly, I can't complain. Maybe I should wait for the excitement to die to write anything about it.

But I love the ending for every character. I loved how they incorporated these "dreams" into the action scenes.

Andy as Chief is a great resolution for her. Jack being her true love was not something I was expecting. I feel it was something they pulled out at the last minute, and don't get me wrong I'm not opposed to it, Andy and Jack could have worked if they had more seasons and Grey wouldn't have left.

Ross. I'd hoped Natasha had something more in mind than marrying Bob but she is always being "My man My man My man" so it's fitting

Robert. One thing I loved about these flashforwards was that they were connected. Sully dreamed of that because in Ross's dream, they were already married, so he got to be with her.

Travis's most important relationship is with Vic. If I had Vic as a friend, I'd be like that too. Uprooting your life like that to move with your best friend is really brave.

Warren is probably my least favorite character but that's because he is boring but he is a good man. I was emotional watching his kids all grow.

Beckett is so unserious because why is he dreaming of Ross' sister.

Vic. She made me cried because she deserves everything that it's good in life. I'm so so so happy she didn't end up with Theo. She is helping people and living her best life. My beautiful queen.

Carina's dream is so important bc she had no one, her brother and mom died, and her father is trash. She was alone and then met this stubborn firefighter and said I want a big family with her, and that's what she did. Bring her back to Grey's you cowards.

Maya. My sweet beautiful, reckless, bisexual, hot, brave, selfless, stubborn, broken Maya. Her future was so bright without clouds. She falls asleep thinking about her wife and three kids. Maya who made me come back for season 2, and here I am seven seasons later, just a mess of emotion.

When I saw Carina enter that bar, it took me a whole ass minute to realize what they were trying to do. Why Carina was there. I'll never forget that excitement and I'll always be thankful for pairing them.

It's so weird to see that kind of representation. We didn't need coming out stories or the usual homophobia. Also, they were proud bisexuals and I'm always thankful that Maya said that with her whole chest. That was so important.

Now, my random thoughts about the episode.

I love the scene with the aluminum thing. That was cool and terrifying.

I loved it when Andy showed up. I was crying like she rescued me.

Danielle is so bad at screaming, her voice cracked up so much.

I loved Maya worried about Andy

I loved Carina suiting up finally. It was so funny.

I loved that we got to see adult Prue, and my god the legacy she is carrying.

I loved to see Andy as chief and Maya as captain.

I loved Carina doing what she preaches. Like Maya my god make yourself useful and give that woman an orgasm.

I'm not a fan of the Deluca-Bishop name tag because I just don't like hyphenating last names in general but I think it is cute they did that little detail for the fans who have really been asking for it.

Now for the last scene, keep in mind, that I've been crying the whole episode. Then this hit

I just laughed out loud. Omg, those are some terrible wigs. What was the point? What were they trying to achieve? To make them look older?

You should have put some gray hair and move it along. Like why they were having a bob off. Why would you do that to them?

Let me clean my eyes with Maya's real bob and the hottest she looked in the show.

Anyway, I'm always thankful when I get to experience a TV show so deeply. Even tho the cancellation is unfair. At least we got a proper ending.

I'm also glad that we got actors who cared deeply about their characters and respected them so much.

I'm a mess but 19 forever.

[rhonnie23]

Bite Me Introduction!

Bite Me M.List

Chapter One~ Run!

❗🔞MDNI🔞❗

Summary: When 3 girls who don't know their family's past, a terrifying lycan King, a 750 year old sweet & handsome vampire king & a 75 year old newly crowned vampire king, who doesn't give a fuck about no one all meet, what's the worst that could happen ?

‼️ SERIES WARNING~ Will have mentioning of rape abuse violence & death. Nothing too detailed though. I wouldn't know how to even explain situations like that. Mature language as in mentioning of private parts & swearing.‼️

Each Chapter will have its own warnings⚠️ will be updated every or every other Saturday or Sunday❤️

Everyone is very tall but for lycans 7'3 is considered kind of short. Werewolves are tall too but nothing compared to the lycans. Yes these some big mother fuckers😅

€~€~€~€~€~€~€~€~€~€~€~

Characters~ Lycans/Wolves:

*  Bang Chan aka Chris- Pack Alpha & King for all wolves & lycans, Acts cold but really is a big puppy (7'4)

*  Minho aka Lee Know- Beta & second in command to the King, wouldn't trust you as far as he can throw you.(7'5)

*  Changbin- second beta can & will not hesitate to beat you black & blue or completely to death. Can find everything about you within 24 to 48 hours. From the things that happened before you were thought of to the moment you both met. Has alpha tendencies (7'2.5)

*  Hyunjin - third beta has a sick things for knives & torture. Most likely is a sadist not like he's hiding but that don't stop the woman from wanting his crazy ass, the tallest of Stray Kids (7'7.5)

*  Jisung aka Han- the ace & fourth beta. Good in the field with or without a weapon, very sneak. Usually the person set as a spy (7'3.5)

* Felix aka Prince of death- second alpha who's very good at hand & hand combat & loves guns. Also is Minho's half younger brother (different mom's, their will be a chapter about this & how min & lix met).(7'4)

*  Seungmin aka Doc/tec- fifth & finally beta much like Changbin who has alpha tendencies but doesn't likes guns & prefers to be not in the field with others but is a very skilled fighter (7'7)

*  Jeongin aka I.N- the youngest of the group & alpha, Is in charge of the hand & hand advance combat team & basic gun handling, Amazing sniper (7'5)

* Rhonda- she's a victim of trafficking but wasn't been used for it before she ran away. Has had training from an ex professional fighter. Doesn't know that wolves/Lycans/vampires are real. Also doesn't know she a one herself at first (6'0)

* Ryan aka Buttercup- one of Rhonda's younger fraternal twin sisters. Ryan is a beta werewolf. She is the youngest of the 3 sisters, does bite her tongue for no one & dares you to try her. This bitch bites! hints why her nickname is buttercup, has unique abilities thanks to their grandmother, They are 19 (5'10)

* Mrs Kang...- full blooded werewolf. She was an omega.(5'10)

Characters~ Vampires:

*  Kim Taehyung- the vampire king of South Korean. He's old as dirt 750 years old but looks like he's in his mid or late 20's. Full blooded vampire. Owns a large portion of land in Thailand. Sweet as candy but dangerous as Lucifer himself. (5'10)

* Kim Namjoon- Taehyung second elder brother. Rapper doesn't really care of his family bullshit but loves his little brother a lot some may say he's obsessed. Looks like his in his late 20's but is 751 (5'11)

* Kim Seojin aka Jin WWH- the oldest Kim brother, models, sings, dance, & love his video game. Some say he's more terrifying than his baby brother. It's like look at the world's more beautiful demon. Look like he's in his late 20's early 30's but is 753 (5'10)

*  Nishimura Riki aka Ni-Ki - the newly crown king of Japan. Also a full blooded vampire. Niki is 75 but looks about 18 or 19. So he is young reckless & ruthless. Like most humans in their teens. Youngest king in years of Japanese vampires (6'1)

Characters~ Human

* Riley- the oldest of the twins & second oldest. Much like Rhonda the twins are victims of trafficking. Riley is honestly the nice one of all three of the sisters. Very shy but very protective of her twin, often mistaken for being dumb & naive but is the complete opposite. (5'10)

* Mr. Kang Jay- underground mafia leader, many enemies, feared be more, was the CEO of a very successful cellphone company. (6'1)

€~€~€~€~€~€~€~€~€~€~€~

Taglist Open

@whoreforchanin @namjoonandchanswife @itzzyyyyyyydaaaa

©rhonnie23ownallcopyrights

[rainbowsky]

Dear Rainbowsky,

I have been pondering whether to write or not to write for many days now.  I am neither good at writing nor with words.  So please bear with me, because it's going to be quite long if I want to explain myself thoroughly.  I don't often use any social media, however, today I was saddened to the point that I must say something.  I have great great respect for both of you and Vic, therefore I seek your pardon to use your platform to say a few words in support of DD's newest movie.  I felt I must tell of my own experiences and maybe help lift some of the doubts, anger, disappointments & whatnot.

I was barely a teenager when we escaped from the civil war in my country.  I'm sure some of the older generations would have remembered the Hollywood movie called " The Killing Fields".  When the war ended, many families were escaping to Thailand (or countries nearby).  My family was among them.  It was an extremely dangerous journey.  We could get killed at any moment.  We had to climb mountains, walk through thick jungles, for many many weeks (most of the time we went without food.  We slept wherever we got tired.)  There were many guerrillas (Former Pol Pot's soldiers) in the jungles, and landmines.

We were a group of nearly 20 women with 3 young children (no men).  Before the journey (from Phnom Penh to the borders of Thailand), my adopted mum had me bathe in mud every day in the hope that I'd become as black as everyone else in the group (I have much lighter skin, therefore, I would put everyone at risk because we might run into soldiers or guerrillas in the jungles and get question by them.  My adopted mum is darker than the dark chocolate)  If I could get away with painting myself black with soot (there was no such thing as make-up in war, and soot from the charcoal would come off) she would have attempted that too.  I was taught to tell lies if I was asked where we were going.  I was to say that my mum and I were on our way to Thailand to look for my father who had an affair with a Thai woman!  I didn't quite understand but knew that it was very very important that I got everything correct.  And sure enough halfway through our journey we were stopped by a fierce looking group of guerrillas in Siem Riep jungle.  These people would not hesitate to put a bullet or two in you just for the fun of it!  Most were young adults with machine guns and bullets hanging around their bodies.  They looked at us with much hatred and disgust (I only remembered there were many of them), then they decided to question me (I must have stuck out like a sore thumb).  I must have peed in my pants, I could see my adopted mother was trembling and praying!  Everyone must be trembling and praying too.  They asked for my mother, I pointed at her.  They didn't believe us as mother and daughter.  She was about to explain when one of them shouted at me where we were going.....

To cut the story short, I would like to ask everyone "Am I being a racist because I made myself black so that I can save lives?", "Is my adopted mother guilty of telling lies to save lives?".  If you are a white person that needs to paint yourself black in order to survive, wouldn't you do it? Or you'd rather put everyone at risk because you think your life and everyone's life is not worth it?

When it comes to war and you are in a war zone, there is no such thing as black or white, there is only human life and survival!

If anyone is interested in reading about the guerrillas in the Cambodia jungles, I'd like to recommend this one book by Chris Moon "One step beyond"

I love your blog (and Vic's too) very very much. I thank you to both of you from the bottom of my heart.

Hi reksmey3328, thanks so much for your kind words, I'm glad you're enjoying my blog! ☺️

First of all I want to send you blessings for surviving such a huge and terrifying ordeal. You and your mother and all the women and children travelling with you were exceptionally brave to get through something like that. What an incredible journey.

I hope you've all gone on to live in safety, and surrounded by kind and loving people. Thanks so much for sharing your story. You underestimate your ability to communicate. Your experience really shone through in your writing. 🫂

I don't think anyone would argue that you were doing anything offensive or wrong by disguising yourself the way you did. Clearly it was a matter of life and death.

And I don't think anyone would argue that - if such a UN mission happened where people had to infiltrate a community with different racial characteristics in order to rescue hostages - there could be anything objectionable about the rescuers doing the same.

However, I still feel that the use of blackface in the film should have been avoided. Filmmaking isn't a matter of life and death, and there are many different ways the scene could have been adapted to tell the story and provide high stakes suspense without subjecting the actors and the viewers to this indignity.

Even if they were trying to depict a real-life mission that had actually happened (and I still haven't seen evidence that it was directly based on a real mission), they could have adapted the scenes to remove the use of those disguises. Filmmakers do this all the time when creating films based on historical events.

That's just my personal opinion. I know others might disagree, and that's their right. (For those wanting my detailed thoughts on the issue, they can check out the posts linked here).

Thanks again for sharing your story, and for the book recommendation. 💛.

[fluentmoviequoter]

Pretty Boy

Requested Here by @d34drapunzel ! I hope you enjoy!

Pairing: Victor Vale x fem!EO!reader

Summary: You think Victor Vale is an angel, and after a night of breaking his promises, he shows you that you're right.

Warnings: angst, depictions of torture, hurt/comfort, fluffy(ish) at the end

Word Count: 2.1k+ words

Amazing Art from Pinterest (I love this so much!! even though it's Vic and Eli, I'm using it.)

As Victor looks at you now, curled on the couch behind Sydney, braiding her hair while Dol nuzzles his head against your shoulder, he can barely remember what you were like when he found you.

You were the last name on Eli and Snell’s list, an EO who didn’t know you were being hunted but still terrified by the changes you were going through. When Sydney and Victor found you after Snell took Eli away, you were sitting in a dark closet, curled in on yourself in a poor attempt to protect yourself and others. When he opened the door, you first thought he was an angel, too pretty to be human.

Victor took pity, or something like it, on you as he knelt before you and whispered a promise.

“I’ll help you, but you have to trust me.”

You haven’t looked back since then, taking his hand and trusting him with your life. As you grew more comfortable around him, Sydney, and Mitch, you opened up, able to talk to them about practically everything. Your willingness to show your emotions and to show affection is something that Victor doesn’t understand, especially considering everything you’ve been through. But his inability to understand is the very thing that hinders him from realizing you treat him differently than Sydney. She gets soft touches and braided hair, but he gets firm, unyielding reassurances and kind smiles.

“Are you okay?” you ask Victor, pulling him from his memories.

“Yeah,” he answers, moving his eyes away from you. “Just thinking about something.”

“Shocking,” you and Sydney say simultaneously.

You smile at Victor, and he nearly forgets that he was supposed to be focusing.

✯✯✯✯✯ 

Victor finds the man he’s been searching for. It’s been weeks since he heard about the EO who can influence people and use every drop of willpower they have against them. It’s an intriguing power, Victor thinks, but he has a stronger will than most.

“You shouldn’t go alone,” you tell him, walking to his side.

He glances over when your arm presses against his but doesn’t move. “I can take him.”

As you shake your head, you argue, “What happens after he latches onto your willpower, Vic? What if there’s more to it?”

“I can handle it,” Victor repeats.

“You shouldn’t have to do it alone.”

“It’s not safe.”

“Then why are you going alone?” you ask, exasperated at the same argument night after night. You know Vic is trying to protect you, Mitch, and Sydney; that protectiveness doesn’t mean he has to become self-destructive or completely unwilling to listen to reason.

“I made a promise and I plan to keep it,” Victor says.

“Why can’t you understand that we argue because we care about you?” you whisper. “We don’t want to get in the way, but none of us can lose you, Vic. You can’t keep your promise if you don’t come back.”

Victor looks into your eyes, his resolve wavering each time you blink.

“Sunrise. I’ll be back by sunrise. Keep an eye on them,” he says, turning away from you.

“What am I going to do with you, pretty boy?” you whisper, watching the door close and lock behind Victor.

✯✯✯✯✯ 

“You’re strong,” the man says, turning toward Victor and falling into step with him, like a practiced dance as they circle one another, the fight predator on predator. “Not many people have a will like yours.”

“Thanks for noticing,” Victor deadpans. “Tell me what I need to know, and I’ll let you go.”

“Pretty sure that’s a lie.”

Victor raises a hand, prepared to fight if he has to. 

“Tell me this though,” the man says, stopping across from Victor. “Who’s the girl holding your willpower together? Someone you need to get home to?”

Freezing, Victor wonders if it’s you he’s talking about. The split-second distraction is enough time and creates enough of a gap that the EO enters Victor’s mind, bending his willpower to use against him.

“This, this is where it gets fun,” he whispers in Victor’s ear as he falls to the floor.

Victor’s mind goes dark, and an image of you smiling at him is the last thing he sees.

✯✯✯✯✯ 

Unable to sleep, you sit on the couch and stare at the door. The sun has gone down, but sunrise is still hours away, and each minute seems an hour long.

Dol trods out of Sydney’s room, shaking his head sleepily as he crawls onto the couch beside you, setting his head in your lap. He sighs as you begin petting his head and down his neck, momentarily drawing your mind away from Victor.

“Why does he do this, bud?” you ask Dol. “He has to know that we care about him as more than a protector.”

Dol huffs like he’s laughing at you, and you smile. “Yeah, I know. But I’ll show him every minute for the rest of my life if I have to.”

✯✯✯✯✯ 

Victor blinks his eyes open slowly, growing used to the darkness surrounding him.

“Vic!” Sydney yells.

“Victor,” you call, much quieter.

He looks around, trying to determine where your voices are coming from and what you’re doing there.

“She’ll die before you find her,” someone says. “Slowly, painfully. You’re breaking your promises.”

Victor stumbles as he rises, walking into the dark until a bright light turns on in the distance. He sees you standing under it and slows as someone joins you. Breaking into a run as he sees the silhouette of a gun aimed at your stomach, your scream drowns out all other noise before the light turns off again.

“Sydney!” Victor yells.

“You said you wouldn’t let them hurt me,” she whimpers somewhere in the dark.

“Sydney,” Victor repeats quietly.

He closes his eyes, attempting to locate you or Sydney by hearing since he can’t trust his eyes in the darkness.

“You’re too late. They’re gone.”

Victor clenches his jaw, walking into the darkness again.

“You said,” your voice says, interrupted by a wet cough, “you could help me. I trusted you.”

Something wraps around Victor’s arms, winding around his chest tightly before he’s pulled back against something cold and hard. Steel bars, he realizes.

“Sit back and enjoy the show.”

Victor wants to look away, to close his eyes and think of anything else, but you and Sydney appear in front of him, bound and covered in blood before Mitch is pushed down in front of you. All his promises are being broken, and Victor feels the unfamiliar pressure of tears in his eyes as the night goes on.

✯✯✯✯✯ 

“Mitch?” you whisper, knocking on his door. He groans as he wakes, and you say, “I’m leaving. Victor went to find the EO and he’s not back yet. I’m worried.”

“He can handle himself,” Mitch mumbles.

“But he didn’t know what he was up against. I’m really worried.”

Your voice wobbles at the end, and Mitch sits up and turns on a light. He sees your bottom lip pulled tightly between your teeth as your fingers pick at your pants, clear signs you are more worried than ever.

“Want me to come with you?” he offers.

“No, I need you to stay with Syd. Vic said he’d be back by sunrise but something’s wrong.”

Mitch nods, knowing better than to question your feelings when Victor is involved.

“Be careful,” he says. “Call if you need anything.”

“I will. Thanks, Mitch.”

You get one of Victor’s jackets, trusting it to hide you as well as he does and set out to find your pretty angel before it’s too late.

✯✯✯✯✯ 

Victor’s face is wet with tears, and his breaths are ragged as his nightmare continues: you, Mitch, and Sydney have been threatened and hurt nonstop since he was restrained against the bars. Unsure how much more he can take, Victor lets his eyes close, flinching as you scream before sobbing, his name the only break in your cries.

“Well, that was fun,” the EO says.

Victor cracks his eyes open, surprised to be back where he started. Standing across from the EO, Victor’s face is still teary and red. Disoriented from the sudden change, Victor looks around for you and Sydney but finds nothing. His breaths are even, and he’s eerily silent before he lunges toward the EO, pinning him to the floor.

Something flickers in his mind, and Victor finds himself on the floor, unable to move as the EO clicks his tongue.

“I guess it’s your turn to see how she felt,” he threatens.

✯✯✯✯✯ 

You wander through the narrow alleyways, tapping your fingers against your thighs as you look for any sign of Victor. A pained scream just a few blocks away is all you need to start running.

✯✯✯✯✯ 

Victor regains control of his willpower, turning the pain dial as high as it will go as he kicks the man away from him. His mind wavers between what’s really around him and the screams of you and Sydney. The idea of someone hurting either of you to get to him causes his emotions to remain in the unstable area between fear, heartbreak, and anger, so he decides to take all of them out on the writhing EO beside him.

Victor kneels over the man, unyielding even as fresh blood from his continued hits mixes with his own.

“I will never break my promises,” he growls.

✯✯✯✯✯ 

“Vic?” you call, standing in a darkened doorway.

Stepping inside, you see a bruised and bloodied man fall backward, catch himself on his hands, and slink away into the darkness. His breathing sounds labored, and you only know of one person who can or would inflict that level of pain.

Someone is crying inside, and you follow a sliver of light, wondering if Victor was ambushed.

Whatever you expected, however, was nowhere near what you really find.

Victor is on the floor, covered in blood and sobbing, and you don’t hesitate to rush to his side.

✯✯✯✯✯ 

After Victor’s hits slow, his emotions weighing him down and making it hard to move, the EO crawls away, and Victor makes no move to follow him. With no idea about what was real and what wasn’t and the unwelcome invasion of his mind, Victor lets himself succumb to his emotions, something he has never done before.

He doesn’t hear you enter but knows who you are when your hands raise to his face.

As you kneel beside him, you cup his bloody face, looking over his injuries and the blood that clearly isn’t his.

“My pretty boy,” you whisper. “What did they do to you?”

“Are you okay?” he asks, his voice rough.

“I’m fine, Vic. You’re not.”

Victor nods, leaning closer to you and trusting you to hold him up. You swallow as you welcome him into your embrace, fearing that he will never be the same again. His slow, emotional answers are the complete opposite of the Victor Vale you know, and it’s both terrifying and weirdly attractive to see him like this. You like having his total trust, having him open and vulnerable at your touch, but the rest of it is hard to see. The blood and the complete personality change is something you weren’t afraid of but should have been.

“Where’s Sydney?” he asks.

“With Mitch. We’re all okay, I promise.”

“They- they were hurting all of you,” he explains, a tear running down your hand. “And I couldn’t make it stop.”

“Vic, that wasn’t real. I promise that we are all completely safe, thanks to you. You’re the angel I always knew you were.”

“I’m not.”

“Trust me,” you tell him, ducking your head to meet his eyes as you smile.

“Do you trust me?” he asks.

“More than anyone.”

He nods, letting you wrap your arms completely around him. Brushing your fingers through his hair, you murmur, “I’m sorry, my pretty boy.”

Suddenly, as you hold him and unknowingly put him back together after a night of being torn apart, it’s as if a flip is switched. You pull away, not far, but enough to let you see him. His tears have stopped, his face drying as he takes a deep breath. 

As you look into his eyes, his desire is clear: revenge. Revenge for trying to hurt him, for threatening you and Sydney, and for making him realize that you mean so much to him.

“Are you sure?” you whisper, wiping his sleeves over his cheeks to remove some blood and better see him.

“Say it again,” he demands, and you don’t have to ask what he means.

“I trust you,” you say, lowering your voice to add, “pretty boy.”

“I’m sure.”

He pulls you up with him, holding you close as he leads you home, though you know home is anywhere Victor Vale is. Your pretty boy, your angel, and the man who is slowly learning that you’re more important than he ever imagined.

[literary-motif]

https://www.tiktok.com/@midnightvisi0n/video/7361419106425343253?is_from_webapp=1&sender_device=pc&web_id=7358630244674897451

here ya go, vic <3 to heal from jasmine's painful xanthus fic (i hope you like studio ghibli 🥹)

Very sweet. Thank you Kieran! <3

(I... don't. I watched some of their movies as a kid and for some reason the animation terrified me to no end. I have seen Spirited Away (yes I looked it up) and remember literally nothing other than being terrified to the depth of my soul by the Faceless.)

[astoryofsuchwoe]

Reflections . . .

(ember pov writing WHO CHEERED!!! there's erm. lots of fucked up shit. tw for implied sa, dehumanization/dollification, trans man being feminized, brief mentions of a limb being torn off, murder by choking and blood but we're all alien stage fans/silly)

(tagging @sotogalmo @tsukacchako <3)

I can't remember the day the segyein brought me to the store.

All I really have memories of is my old name. All I really have memories of is the way that my sisters and I were dressed the same, put up on display as dolls.

We were nothing but dolls to them. That was all they'd ever say. We were forced to pose, to smile, to act like nothing was wrong even when their slimy hands groped and played with us.

Because we were just dolls.

When they pulled too hard, played with me too hard, I had to sit there and take it. Even when they tore my leg straight off. Even when my blood stained my white dress. Even when the pain grew to be too much that I passed out.

Because I was just a doll.

I always wondered what it meant to not be a doll. What it meant, to be free.

I couldn't take it. I was more than a doll. My sisters were more than dolls. We had thoughts and feelings, just like those stupid segyein.

They never cared, though.

All they'd do was push a plastic leg into my nub until it stuck. All they'd do was push me to the back of the store, where all the defects were.

It led to the first time I watched them kill one of my sisters.

She had lashed out at a potential buyer, and the store manager was furious. Choked her out until her body was pale and cold, until the life had left her eyes. We were all forced to stay still as they tossed her out like common trash.

It kept happening, over and over again. My defect sisters were slowly dying one by one, and I knew that even if I sat in silence, even if I did nothing...

I'd be next.

My escape was hard. The leg they had given me was not one that I could move well, and every single step hurt.

But, I still made it. When they had closed the store and left the door unlocked, I never moved as fast as I did that day.

I remembered collapsing out in the street when I finally did escape, not even that far from the store. I remembered being terrified that I would be taken back, that I'd be found by those horrible segyein again.

When I woke up, I was in a place I had never seen before. I was surrounded by humans, people who weren't dressed in white like my sisters and I were. I almost cried when I realized it, that the rumored resistance group some of my sisters heard about was real.

The doctor asked me my name. I was hesitant to give my old one. I told them the first word off the top of my head.

Ember.

It's stuck all this time, and I'm glad for it. Nobody questioned my strange choice. They accepted me the way I was.

As for my savior...I didn't meet Vic until I was cleared to leave the medical wing. I had asked Sytria who saved me, and they pointed me his way, rambling about how "He's a bit cold for a human, but you'll like him!"

He was standoffish when we first met, shrugging off my desperate thanks with a wave of his hand.

"It was nothing," He had said, "Who would leave you out on the street like that?"

Everybody before would have. My perfect sisters, the segyein would have sacrificed me in a heartbeat. But he didn't need to know that.

I grew closer to everyone, after that day. It was scary, to be with people so warm. People who didn't worry about being toys to the segyein. People who were truly and indisputedly free.

I grew closer to Vic, too, as much as he hated it at the start. As I opened up more, becoming the person I'd always wanted to be, I felt more comfortable with him. He would never talk when I was rambling to him, but I don't think he minded. He never said anything about it, anyway.

I can't remember when he started reciprocating my efforts. I remember the first time he arrived in my room with an armful of food, not even saying a word as he dropped it onto my bed and sat down on it. It was a habit I had picked up, and seeing him pick it up too made my heart flutter.

Vic was...is, the light of my life. He's someone that you can't help but look up to. And I thank whatever forces or fate that led him to saving me that day.

What would my life be without him, I wonder? I probably would have been taken back to the shop if he never found me. I probably would have been forced to be a doll again, or killed.

Vic saved me. And I truly don't think he understands how much it means to me.

Ah...I guess I'm getting a bit wistful tonight. It marks the day I ran, after all.

I still think about white clothes splattered in red. I still think about slimy hands on my body.

But now, I think about warm smiles. A meal shared with friends and family.

And now, I truly know that this is what it means to be free.

[dynamic-k]

Oh i mean that when alan was confused why the stick was running away when offering with his muffin and Second smiling innocent

Chosen: ...I also have no idea why that worked so well. No clue. Nada.

-

Dark: [*thinking*] I've taught my little bro well.

Dark: [*cough-laugh*] Yeah, same here- N-No clue-

-

[*sounds of terrified screams in the background as Second casually walks around and approaches villains, happily holding up a tray of fresh muffins with the absolute pinnacle of innocence in his expression*]

-

Vic: [*in his jail cell*] [*probably drawing on the walls again*]

Vic: Why do I hear chaos and screams of near-demonic level terror in the far off distance-

-

Green: Huh. Hey, Sec can I have one? Clearly they don't want any! :D

Second: [*wordlessly hands Green a muffin-*]

-

Blue, Yellow, and Red: [*in various states of casual acceptance or ignoration because Second being a gremlin is literally the most normal thing ever*]

-

-

Bonus- [*in the privacy of Dark's room*]

Dark: You go, lil man! [*high fives Second*] Did you throw any of them like grenades as planned? At least one?

Second: [*dejected*] Noo... Dad was watching too closely. He would've scolded me for wasting the food.

Dark: [*disappointed finger snap*] Stick!

Second: O v O

Dark: ...Why are you looking at me like that. What did you do.

Second: Let's just sayyyy~

Second: The news tomorrow might be interesting~

-

Flashback: [Second is lit up in green sparks of energy, and a cowering villain with wide eyes is backed into a corner. Under Second's scary and intimidating presence, the villain finds himself writing the following poem on the wall with his signature below, as a public message to other villains*]

Roses are red, muffins are great

I will choose muffins over a cake

If you want to do crimes, eat a muffin instead

Muffins are useful for clearing your head

Beware of muffins, give them utmost respect

Muffins are tasty and warm and perfect

But if you choose not to heed the muffin

You might just find yourself inside an oven

-

Dark: What do you mean by that...?

Second: Oh, nothing-

-

*stage bow*

Thank you for indulging my sillies-

[scribeofred]

For that 'What {thing} do you remember me by as a writer' ask game:

Two fics (I suck at remembering names, sorry) - that one about the scifi-esque nightclub which involved a lot of red light and blood allegories - & the one where you didn't use names for the characters (I think they were just 'child' and 'guardian')

The phrase 'poured concrete'. You're one of the very few people I've ever seen use that exact phrase.

But mostly for your brilliant poetic descriptions which sucker one in and won't let go until you're good and ready for them to do so <3

See. This really, really, really goes to show that an author genuinely can't always know what parts of their writing will resonate with readers. I never would have guessed any of this! The red light story is Blood Moon, which I actually just recently reread myself for the first time in ages. Hilariously, I nevertheless forgot the phrase "poured concrete" appeared in it and I had to go search that up just now to figure out which story you would have read that in 😂 It's a good story, still one of my favorites, and I'm always delighted when readers tell me it's stuck with them.

Idk something about the phrase "poured concrete" feels so smooth and luxurious to me. I don't know how to explain it, it's just ~the vibe~ that's there.

And the allegory story! I had totally forgotten about that one?? Let me dig it up...

...yeah okay I'll just post it as-is. It needs a few more lines for a truly satisfying ending, but I'm strapped for ideas right now, so! Thank you for reminding me of it, and for your kind words! <3

“Up, up,” Warrior urges Child, weeping, clinging, too terrified to be of any help in the coming Battle—and there will be a Battle. Already the crush crush crush of Enemy boots, iron and spike and gore, shake the ground beneath their feet, shake in turn anyone who is inadequately shod, foundations shaky and ultimately distracting from Enemy approach.

“I can’t,” Child cries, wails, fingers fisted around armor edges and thick-woven fabric. Noxious fear smothers all movements, hampers any ability to protect, and Warrior sighs, exhaling frustration and anger and creeping crawling fear, an innocent but insidious attempt at corruption, already weakening, even as Child pleads that “It’s too scary.”

“The unknown is always scary at first,” Warrior agrees, then tilts Child to look up at the boughs spreading wide and thick and solid above their heads. “But look and remember—you are never alone, no matter how dark or unknown the path ahead.”

Child sobs and clings tighter, suffocating; Warrior blocks out the Enemy’s unceasing stomp and tilts Child’s head up. “Look. Do you see? The Light will go with you.”

Sniffling, damp-eyed and damp-cheeked, Child gives a faint head shake, then frowns, brows pinching in studious concentration as up, up, up the tree some glimmer—tiny, like the most muted of fireflies—winks to life. Then another. Another. Another, until their weak cast provides almost enough illumination to make out the ground spreading away from the base of the tree like ink.

“Oh,” Child says, soft, baffled, but already the tears are slowing as wonderment blooms, a burgeoning fascination with the Light, and Warrior’s heart blooms with Light and Joy afresh to see such innocent marveling at what is True and Good.

“Pretty,” Child says, chubby hand rising, fingers grasping, and then “Want,” and Warrior knows it’s time.

“Up you go,” Warrior says, lifting Child onto the nearest bough, the first step in a very long staircase spiraling high into the heavens. “Don’t stop climbing. No matter what happens, stay focused on the Light. It will lead you to salvation.”

Child nods, unsure but oh so brave to be willing to even try, and Warrior nudges Child, encouraging, to the next step before inhaling, deep and full, and offering up a prayer of safety for Child, for deliverance and grace.

Exhale doubt, fear, compliance, judgment—none matter at the onset of Battle. Inhale resolve, strength, boldness, harmony—victory is already won, but someone needs to claim it with fleshly hands, and so Warrior will. A frisson, electric, pulses up a spine straight under a light yoke. Today blood will water the weeds and the wildflowers, Warrior’s perhaps, Enemy’s assuredly.