#well this got longer than I expected it to be-

[creamflix]

cw: mentions of sex & reader menstruating, nothing detailed or explicit [for nsfw].

read part one here

three years.

three whole years of loving each other in your own chaotic way.

but when the anniversary actually rolled around, you felt like someone had hit the reset button on your social skills. standing in the kitchen that morning, you blurted out, “it’s our anniversary. we’ve been together for a long time,” as if that wasn’t blatantly obvious.

sukuna blinked at you from where he was tying his tie, raising an eyebrow like he couldn’t believe what just came out of your mouth.

“no shit,” he deadpanned, though his lips twitched like he was holding back a smirk.

you huffed, crossing your arms. “i’m just saying. it’s... a big deal, y’know?”

“yeah, yeah,” he muttered, brushing past you to grab his keys, but you caught the way his gaze lingered for a moment longer than usual.

truthfully, neither of you were handling it well. anniversaries weren’t exactly your forte. it wasn’t like you didn’t say “i love you” to each other, but those words carried weight between the two of you — too much to just toss around casually.

and now, faced with the unspoken expectation to do something, both of you were stumbling like teenagers on a first date.

sukuna spent the entire morning at work distracted, fidgeting with his pen and snapping at his coworkers more than usual.

am i supposed to plan something? he thought. i was the one who proposed, does that mean it’s my job? the pressure was getting to him.

finally, he decided to keep it simple: your favorite takeout from university, a nostalgic callback to the start of everything.

meanwhile, you spent your day spiraling in a completely different direction. romantic gestures weren’t exactly your specialty, but the thought of doing nothing felt worse.

so, you left work early and dove into something utterly out of character — a full-on romantic dinner, complete with candles, music, and a dish you’d only ever made once before.

by the time the evening rolled around, both of you were a mess. sukuna trudged through the door first, looking disheveled in his wrinkled work clothes, seven plastic bags in hand, each one stuffed with takeout containers. he didn’t even bother taking off his shoes before stepping into the living room.

“yo, i got —” he started, but froze mid-sentence when he saw you.

you were standing by the dining table, decked out in an outfit that screamed special occasion, with your hair done and everything. the table was set like something out of a movie: a full spread of homemade dishes, soft lighting from the candles, and an awkward tension hanging in the air because, honestly, what the hell were the two of you doing?

“...what the fuck,” sukuna finally said, his voice soft with something you couldn’t quite place.

you shrugged, suddenly feeling self-conscious. “i figured... i’d try something different.”

he stared at you for a beat, then down at the bags in his hands, then back at you. “you made all this?”

“yeah.” you shifted on your feet. “thought it’d be nice. but uh, if you don’t wanna eat it, we can always —”

“shut up,” he cut you off, a grin breaking across his face. “you’re insane, you know that?”

“takes one to know one,” you shot back, but your cheeks were burning.

he dropped the bags unceremoniously on the counter and crossed the room in a few quick strides. before you could say anything else, his arms were around you, pulling you into a hug that was somehow both firm and gentle.

“you’re ridiculous,” he mumbled against your hair. “but you’re my ridiculous.”

you rolled your eyes but melted into his embrace. “yeah, yeah. happy anniversary, jerk.”

he laughed, low and genuine, and for a moment, the awkwardness faded. the food didn’t matter. the plans didn’t matter. just being here, in this little apartment you called home, with him holding you like the world didn’t exist outside these walls — that was enough.

even after three years together, the idea of using the typical, sugary nicknames made you both cringe harder than nails on a chalkboard. no “babe,” no “sweetheart,” no “love.” for some reason, it just didn’t fit.

instead, you’d toss out things like “dude,” “bro,” or, on particularly annoying days, “boy,” just to get under his skin. the way sukuna’s eye would twitch every time you called him that? priceless.

but sukuna wasn’t innocent, either. his repertoire of names for you was a mix of creative insults and borderline threats, delivered with just enough affection to remind you that he didn’t actually mean them.

“woman,” “brat,” “shit for brains” — those were the classics. and when he was in an especially foul mood? let’s just say the creativity really started flowing.

the funniest part? even in public, neither of you switched it up. at restaurants, when a waiter would ask for your order, you’d say, “he’ll have the steak,” and sukuna would fire back with, “she’ll take the fish,” like it was the most natural thing in the world.

no “my love” or “my darling.” just “he” and “she,” like a couple of reluctant coworkers at a team lunch.

the one time you tried something different, it didn’t end well.

“what’ll it be, babe?” you’d asked one night, trying to suppress a grin as you glanced at him over the menu.

sukuna lowered his menu just enough to shoot you a look so disgusted you swore you could taste lemons in the air. “what the hell did you just call me?”

“babe,” you repeated, forcing the word out like it physically pained you.

he grimaced, his nose wrinkling. “don’t ever do that again.”

you’d burst out laughing, and from that moment on, the unwritten rule was solidified: no “cute” nicknames. not unless you wanted to ruin the meal for both of you.

and yet, despite all of that, there were moments when the truth slipped through. when you were out with friends, you’d proudly call him “my man,” as if daring anyone to challenge the claim.

and sukuna wasn’t any better — he’d talk about you to his buddies like you were the most important person in the world, casually dropping “my lady” into conversations like it was nothing.

but back home? it was business as usual. “yo, dude,” you’d yell from the kitchen. “did you put the laundry in the dryer?”

“hell nah, woman,” he’d yell back. “do it yourself.”

sure, it wasn’t the most conventional display of affection, but it was yours. no sickly sweet terms of endearment, no over-the-top romantic gestures — just you and sukuna, trading insults and sharing a love that, in its own weird way, felt perfect. would you trade it?

absolutely not.

you and sukuna had never been the type to ooze affection. no heartfelt “good lucks” or mushy “come home soon” texts.

instead, your love language was passive-aggressive threats with just enough bite to keep things interesting.

“don’t fuck it up,” he’d said before your job interview, leaning casually against the counter with a smirk that hid the way his eyes lingered on you a second longer than usual.

“look who’s talking,” you shot back, adjusting your jacket in the mirror. “aren’t you the guy who choked on his coffee before his last one?”

“watch it, brat,” he muttered, grabbing his keys, but his lips twitched.

underneath the snark, though, there was always something unspoken. a silent, shared understanding that you were rooting for each other, even if neither of you would ever outright say it. and during that waiting period — the nerve-wracking limbo between interviews and callbacks — the usual jabs quieted.

it wasn’t a truce, exactly, but you both found yourself going easier on each other. sukuna would make sure you had coffee in the mornings, leaving it on the counter without a word. and you’d restock his energy drinks without him asking, slipping them into the fridge while he wasn’t looking.

when the calls finally came, first for you and then for him, the celebration was as understated as your relationship. no grand hugs or squeals of excitement — just a knowing look exchanged from across the room, a rare, genuine smile curving both your lips.

“guess you didn’t screw it up,” he teased as you set your phone down, but his voice was softer than usual, the edges rounded out by pride.

“guess you didn’t either,” you replied, tossing the comment back at him with a grin.

and maybe — just maybe — there was a fleeting kiss in the mix. something quick and almost shy, as if lingering too long might make the moment too heavy.

“don’t think this means you’re off the hook,” he muttered afterward, trying to play it cool, though his hand rested on your waist a beat longer than necessary.

“wouldn’t dream of it,” you quipped, leaning back just enough to meet his gaze.

this was just the start, the first step in what would be your new life together. and even if it wasn’t wrapped up in the typical trappings of romance, it felt right. because with sukuna, love was never about the obvious.

it was in the things left unsaid, the quiet gestures, and the stubborn refusal to admit just how much you cared — though, deep down, you both knew the truth.

you still remembered the first time sukuna kissed you.

it wasn’t some grand romantic setup or a scene out of a cheesy romance flick — it was just… sukuna. blunt, stubborn, and perfectly him.

it was after graduation, a so-called “first date,” though neither of you called it that. he had taken you to the same drive-in you’d always gone to during halloween, the one with the faded screen and popcorn that tasted more like cardboard than butter.

but this time, they weren’t showing the usual campy horror flicks you two loved to make fun of. no, this time it was la la land.

you’d raised an eyebrow when he mentioned it. “really? la la land?”

“what? you’re too good for musicals now?” he shot back, pulling into the lot like he wasn’t questioning himself at all. but you caught the way his grip on the steering wheel tightened just a bit, like he was bracing for you to laugh at him.

“no, just didn’t know you had a thing for jazz hands,” you teased, grinning when his scowl deepened.

the movie started, but naturally, the two of you barely made it through the first twenty minutes without bickering. the popcorn bag was snatched back and forth between you, each accusing the other of hogging all the caramel-coated pieces.

“you’re eating all the good ones!” you snapped, clutching the bag protectively.

“you’re imagining shit, woman,” sukuna retorted, leaning over to yank it back.

in the heat of the squabble, with your faces inches apart and insults ready to fly, he kissed you. just leaned in and pressed his lips to yours, all sharp and sudden, like he had decided there was no other way to shut you up.

you froze, your brain short-circuiting for half a second, before he pulled away with a smirk that made your blood boil and your heart race all at once.

“what the hell was that?” you demanded, staring at him.

“you were being annoying,” he said, like that was the most logical explanation in the world. but his smug expression faltered just a little when you glared at him, lips parted like you were about to really let him have it.

“you don’t just kiss someone and then pull away like that, you asshole,” you huffed. and before he could reply, you grabbed him by the collar and kissed him back, pouring every bit of your irritation — and maybe a little something else — into it.

the second kiss was different. softer, slower, and entirely mutual. neither of you pulled back this time, and when you finally did, both of you were slightly breathless.

“still annoying,” he muttered, though the corner of his mouth twitched like he was trying not to smile.

“still an asshole,” you shot back, crossing your arms, though your cheeks burned so hot you were glad for the darkness of the car.

after that, there wasn’t much attention paid to the movie. there was a lot more kissing, though, a lot more bantering between each one. and while neither of you would ever admit it, kissing him made you feel like a stupid, giddy teenager. like you wanted to kick your feet in the air and giggle, even if the thought made you cringe internally.

it was ridiculous, it was messy, and it was entirely the two of you. just the way you liked it.

your relationship with sukuna had always been a clash of opposites.

back in your college days, he was infamous for his revolving door of women — never the same face twice, always someone new on his arm. sukuna, the loud, reckless heartthrob who could charm his way into anyone’s bed.

and then there was you: exclusive, reserved, someone who didn’t let just anyone close enough to even try. while sukuna’s name was tossed around in gossip, yours carried a quiet weight, a mix of intrigue and admiration.

it wasn’t that you were some saint — far from it. you weren’t a stranger to sex, but you didn’t hand it out like candy at a parade. your friends teased you about your “dry spells,” but you’d always brushed it off. you had standards, that was all.

meanwhile, sukuna? standards weren’t exactly his thing, or so it seemed.

so, when the two of you somehow transitioned from bickering frenemies to a full-fledged couple, there was an unspoken tension between your histories. you knew who he was, what he’d done, and he knew exactly how tightly you held your walls up. still, you worked together, two stubborn halves of something that somehow clicked.

until one night, when things heated up unexpectedly.

it started innocent enough — if “innocent” was a word that could ever describe sukuna. a clumsy makeout session in his dimly lit apartment, his hands tangled in your hair, your breath mingling with his as he pressed you against the couch. it wasn’t your first kiss, far from it, but this one was different. there was a weight to it, a hunger neither of you had acknowledged until now.

“you’re terrible at this,” you muttered against his lips, though your shaky breath betrayed you.

“yeah?” he shot back, his voice low, teasing. “seems like you’re still here, so what does that say about you?”

you rolled your eyes, but before you could quip back, he kissed you again, harder this time. his hands moved to your waist, fingers tracing the curve of your hips, pulling you closer until there was no space left between you.

it escalated quickly, too quickly. his mouth moved to your neck, and you felt the scrape of his teeth against your skin. a shiver ran through you, your hands gripping his shirt to ground yourself. this was sukuna — your sukuna — and yet, this was a side of him you hadn’t faced before.

you froze slightly when his hands wandered lower, testing the waters. for a split second, you weren’t sure what to do.

your mind raced with contradictions: the part of you that wanted to pull him closer, to let yourself get lost in him, and the other part that wanted to smack his hand away and call him out for moving too fast.

“seriously?” you blurted, breaking the kiss and glaring at him. “do you ever not act like a horndog?”

he smirked, cocky as ever, though his hands eased up. “what? you didn’t seem to mind a second ago.”

“maybe because i was too distracted by your terrible kissing technique,” you shot back, though the heat in your cheeks betrayed you.

“you’re full of shit,” he said, leaning back with an exaggerated groan. but there was something softer in his gaze, a flicker of hesitation that wasn’t usually there.

“look, if you’re not into it, just say so. i’m not gonna —”

“shut up, sukuna,” you interrupted, grabbing the collar of his shirt and pulling him back down. your lips crashed against his, and this time, there was no hesitation.

it was messy, passionate, a clash of teeth and tongues that left you both breathless. every time you thought you’d had enough, he’d kiss you in a way that made your head spin, and you’d find yourself pulling him closer all over again.

maybe you’d slap him later for being an overconfident ass, but for now? for now, you let yourself get lost in him, in the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world he’d ever want. and, as much as you hated to admit it, you didn’t regret a second of it.

sex with sukuna was its own breed of unique — a stark contrast to the wild stories he carried in his history. where you once expected a whirlwind of dominance and filthy words, what you got was something raw and unexpectedly tender, the kind of connection that made your chest ache in the best way. it wasn’t the slow, candlelit romance people wrote songs about, and it wasn’t some grand kink-fueled adventure. it was quiet, comfortable, and somehow, so deeply you two.

sukuna had his reputation, sure. tattoos, a sharp tongue, and an aura that practically screamed i don’t care about your feelings. in his youth, you imagined he’d been the kind of guy who thrived on power plays in the bedroom, leaving women weak-kneed and breathless for all the wrong reasons. hell, he probably relished in it, back in the day.

but that wasn’t what you got.

instead, he was gruff, but not in the way you’d expect. it was the kind of gruffness that came with holding back, with trying to temper himself into someone who could make you feel safe and seen. when he leaned over you, his usual arrogance was softened by something quieter, something he didn’t say out loud but you could feel in the way his hands traced over your skin.

“this okay?” he’d grumble, his voice low, trying to sound nonchalant, but you caught the way his eyes searched your face for any hesitation.

you’d nod, a little too bashful to form words, and he’d pause, eyebrows raising just slightly. “i asked if it was fine, not if you could sit there like a scared rabbit.”

“sukuna,” you’d groan, slapping his shoulder. but your face would heat up anyway, and he’d smirk like the cocky ass he was, though his hands stayed steady, patient.

if you didn’t answer quickly enough, he’d ask again, his actions slowing to a near halt. “hey,” he’d say, leaning down just enough so his lips brushed your ear, “you gonna tell me, or do I have to stop?”

“don’t stop,” you’d finally mutter, voice barely above a whisper, and he’d let out the most obnoxious chuckle, something halfway between pride and amusement.

“thought so,” he’d say smugly, resuming his movements — but gentler than his tone suggested, always so much gentler. it wasn’t about control or ego, though you knew he liked to push you just enough to make you squirm. no, it was about making sure you were there with him every step of the way.

it was new, this side of him that catered to you, the way he’d catch your gaze when he thought you were feeling shy or uncertain. sometimes, you wanted to throttle him for the way he’d tease you, like it was a sport. other times, you wanted to melt into him for the way his hands would guide you, steady and secure, like he had all the time in the world for you and no one else.

but your favorite part? it was always the aftercare.

where sukuna usually thrived on chaos and crudeness, after sex, he was different. softer, quieter, almost dazed. he’d hold you like he was afraid you’d slip away, his arms wrapped around you a little tighter than usual.

“you good?” he’d ask, his voice gruff but quiet.

you’d nod, and he’d huff, pressing his chin to your head. “drink some water,” he’d grumble, even as he was already reaching for the glass on the nightstand.

he wouldn’t joke as much, at least not in the way that made you want to kick him. instead, he’d run his fingers absentmindedly through your hair, muttering about how you’d better not go passing out on him. he’d press lazy, almost featherlight kisses to your temple, your cheek, anywhere he could reach without moving too much.

and if you curled closer to him, burying your face in his chest, he wouldn’t say anything. he’d just hold you tighter, his fingers tracing slow patterns on your back, grounding both of you in the moment.

sometimes, you’d laugh to yourself, thinking about how this man — this loud, sharp-edged, unapologetically rough man — had turned into a vanilla sap just for you. and other times, you’d bite your lip and blush at the thought that he was yours. completely and utterly yours.

you’d never admit it out loud, but the way he took care of you? the way he toned down all the bravado and just was with you? it made you love him more than words could ever say.

the first real fight wasn’t the playful sparring you and sukuna usually indulged in. it wasn’t the sarcastic quips or half-serious insults that usually left both of you laughing by the end. this time, it was different.

the argument started small, something inconsequential, but quickly spiraled into a storm of raised voices and sharp words. sukuna’s tone was harsh, and your stubbornness was just as sharp. you were used to challenging each other, but this felt heavier, like neither of you was willing to back down.

“you’re not even listening to me!” you snapped, your voice breaking in frustration.

“yeah? and you’re so damn perfect at communicating?” sukuna shot back, his words biting.

the tension was suffocating, the air in your shared apartment thick with unresolved emotions.

and then it happened — he grabbed his jacket, slammed the door, and left.

the sound of the door shutting echoed in your ears, and you froze, your chest tight. sukuna didn’t just leave. not like this.

he left home.

it wasn’t just an apartment. it was the place where you built something together, where you shared quiet mornings and loud, chaotic evenings. it was the place that held laughter, tears, and everything in between.

and now it felt unbearably empty.

you wanted to scream, to throw something, to lash out at the ache in your chest. but you knew that chasing him down with your usual fire would only pour gasoline on the flames. so you swallowed your pride, slipped on your fuzzy slippers, and bolted out the door.

you spotted him a few blocks down, his tall figure unmistakable even under the dim streetlights. his pace was fast, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. he looked pissed, but there was something about the way his shoulders hunched slightly that made your heart clench.

“sukuna!” you called, your voice louder than you intended.

he didn’t stop.

“dammit, will you stop walking for one second?” you yelled again, jogging to catch up to him.

when he finally turned around, his expression was a mixture of anger and surprise. “what the hell are you doing?” he asked, eyes narrowing. “it’s late.”

“yeah, and whose fault is that?” you shot back, before taking a deep breath. no, not this time. no more yelling.

“look,” you started, your voice softer now, though your chest was still heaving from the sprint.

“i’m sorry. i mean it. not the sarcastic, biting kind of sorry. a real one. i shouldn’t have — ” you paused, struggling to find the right words. “i shouldn’t have made it about winning. i was wrong.”

sukuna stared at you, his expression unreadable for a moment. the silence stretched, and you felt the sting of tears prick at your eyes.

“...dammit,” he muttered, his shoulders dropping. “i was a dick too.”

you blinked, surprised. sukuna rarely apologized, and when he did, it was never straightforward.

“yeah, you were,” you replied, a small, tentative smile creeping onto your face.

he let out a low chuckle, shaking his head. “you don’t make this easy, you know that?”

“neither do you,” you shot back, stepping closer.

he sighed, his hands leaving his pockets to pull you into a hug that was as awkward as it was comforting. “you’re lucky i didn’t get too far,” he grumbled into your hair.

“you’re lucky i chased after you,” you countered, though you clung to him just as tightly.

and just like that, the tension broke. it wasn’t perfect — there were still things to talk about, wounds to mend — but in that moment, wrapped in each other’s arms on a dimly lit street, you both knew this was home.

sukuna would never say it outright — hell, he’d rather swallow nails than admit it — but he had your back when it came to that time of the month.

he tracked your cycle like a tactical mission, not because he was obsessed with you or anything (his words), but because it was easier to prepare than to deal with the aftermath of being caught off guard.

“what, you think i like listening to you whine about not having your stupid chocolate?” he’d grumble, dumping a bag of your favorite snacks onto the counter with an air of exaggerated suffering. but there was no mistaking the care behind the gesture, no matter how much he tried to play it off.

medicines? stocked. pads and tampons? stocked. heating pads? ready to go. hell, he even had a backup stash of painkillers tucked into his drawer at work in case you ran out at home.

he wasn’t perfect, of course. sukuna had zero patience when you were in one of your mood swings, snapping at him for breathing too loudly or sitting “wrong.” but he’d weather it, rolling his eyes and muttering under his breath.

“you done yelling at me, or you wanna go another round?” he’d ask, arms crossed, leaning against the doorframe.

but the moment you started crying — whether it was over a sad commercial or pure frustration — his entire demeanor shifted.

“hey, hey, cut that out,” he’d say, pulling you into his chest despite his grumbling. “you’re not allowed to cry over dumb shit while i’m around, alright? i’ll give you something real to cry about.”

when you were touch-starved, he’d let you cling to him, even if it meant sitting through a three-hour movie you’d already watched ten times. when you were touch-repulsed, he’d keep his distance but stay close enough to hand you water or make sure you were comfortable.

and when you were too tired to shower, he’d step in without hesitation, grumbling all the while. “can’t believe i’m doing this,” he’d mutter as he adjusted the water temperature and gently washed your hair. “you owe me a massage or something after this.”

he’d change the bedsheets without complaint, tossing you one of his oversized shirts afterward. “don’t stretch it out, or i’ll kick your ass,” he’d say, but you both knew he didn’t mean it. he even kept a corner of his closet stocked with clothes he didn’t mind you ruining — shirts and sweatpants that were practically yours at this point, though he’d never admit it.

“don’t get used to this,” he’d say, watching as you shuffled into the living room in his clothes, burritoed in a blanket. but the way his gaze softened as you curled up on the couch, finally comfortable, betrayed him.

for all his rough edges, sukuna handled you with a quiet kind of love — grumbling, sarcastic, but steady. he might call it “dealing with your bullshit,” but deep down, you both knew better.

it wasn’t a night you’d easily forget — not because of the celebration itself, but because of what came out of your mouth when you were deep into a rum-induced haze.

the bar was alive with the thrum of music and the clang of glasses, laughter and shouting merging into a chaotic symphony that somehow suited you and sukuna. the two of you had ridden in on bikes, looking like a mismatched pair of rebels — him towering, tatted, and menacing, and you just as fierce but smaller, less overtly intimidating.

"you know," sukuna drawled, leaning against the bar with a lazy grin that had been charming women for years, “if you weren’t already mine, i’d be trying to pick you up right now.”

you rolled your eyes, though your own grin betrayed how much you enjoyed the rare moment of his playful charm. “you’re an idiot,” you shot back, taking another shot and wincing as it burned down your throat.

but then, in the lull between his next teasing remark, you blurted it out. “i love you.”

the words landed like a hammer.

sukuna froze, the smirk slipping from his face. the rowdy atmosphere of the bar seemed to fade into static as he stared at you, his crimson eyes narrowing slightly, as if he was trying to gauge whether or not he’d heard you correctly.

"what?" he asked, voice lower than usual, his usual bravado stripped away.

you blinked at him, too tipsy to care about the weight of what you just said. “i love you, stupid. don’t make me say it again.”

and just like that, it was as if someone had pulled the rug out from under him. sukuna, the guy who had once been a whirlwind of hookups and no-strings-attached chaos, was sober in an instant. not because he didn’t like what he heard — no, it was the opposite. it was because those words had been lodged somewhere deep inside him, waiting for the right moment to claw their way out, even if he refused to admit it to himself.

he didn’t say anything right away. instead, he paid the tab, his movements oddly methodical, and threw his leather jacket over your shoulders.

“c’mon,” he muttered, voice gruff as he guided you to the door.

“what’s the rush?” you slurred, stumbling slightly as he helped you onto the bike.

“the rush is you’re drunk and saying shit you don’t mean,” he snapped, though his tone lacked its usual bite.

you didn’t protest after that, leaning into him as he drove the two of you home. by the time you reached the apartment, he was practically hauling you inside, grumbling about how you were a lightweight.

as he set you down on the couch and pulled a blanket over you, the words escaped him, unbidden and softer than he’d have liked.

“i love you too, idiot.”

he thought you were out cold, your breathing slow and even. but the faintest smile tugged at your lips, and a quiet mumble escaped you:

“heard that.”

he froze, a flush creeping up his neck. “shut up and go to sleep,” he barked, but the gentleness with which he tucked you in betrayed him.

you didn’t say anything else, and neither did he, but the air between you felt lighter, warmer. it wasn’t perfect or grand, but it was yours — messy, stubborn, and just enough.

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[ancientwastedlores]

Don't Be Kind To It (Homelander x Reader)

The overwhelming amount of love Homelander Only Breaks His Favorite Toys got really hit me in the feels. Some of you asked for a part II, and much like Homelander, I aim to please (and love the praise).

[tags: @helreyy @discowizard88 @slasherho]

This one is lightly inspired by Hozier's "It Will Come Back," and we get a glimpse into Homelander's perspective as well.

Hope you enjoy it! <3

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Don't Be Kind To It

Don't let it in with no intention to keep it Jesus Christ, don't be kind to it

You're a smart cookie. And you know Homelander better than he knows himself. You expect him to stalk you, watch you from rooftops, send you gifts that have an agenda, and force Vought's Crime Analytics department to keep an eye on you.

So, you wait. You listen for the telltale whoosh of air, the crackle of energy that signals his arrival. Every gust of wind sends your heart hammering; every creak of the floorboards makes your blood run cold. You scan the skyline for a flash of red and blue, bracing yourself for the inevitable.

At first, you think he’s just toying with you, letting you stew in paranoia. You brace for him to materialize at the most inconvenient moment, smug and victorious. Yet days turn into weeks, and his absence becomes undeniable. You tell yourself he’s good at what he does—too good—but the truth begins to sink in: it’s not just you. Nobody has seen him.

No staged rescues. No public appearances. Not even a leaked video of him losing his temper. Ashley let slip that his tracking chip went dead 3 days ago. Vought is scrambling to spin the story - a secret overseas mission? A long-deserved vacation?

But the inner circle is panicking. The people who know him best—the ones who know what he’s capable of—are terrified.

Where the fuck is Homelander?

But... another thought creeps in, invasive and unwelcome, like a splinter under your skin.

Isn't he going to fight for me?

The selfishness of it makes you recoil, but it’s there, undeniable and raw. After everything, after all the suffocating control and emotional whiplash, you almost wanted him to stay obsessed with you. To prove that you still mattered to him. To prove that you had power over the most powerful man alive.

The realization is a gut punch. Maybe you’re not as different from him as you thought. Maybe his possessiveness, his need for control, rubbed off on you more than you care to admit. Maybe you’ve become just as twisted as him, longing for attention—even the toxic kind—because it’s better than silence.

And now, silence is all there is.

It wraps around you like a noose, tightening with every passing day. His absence presses on your chest, cutting off your circulation, making it hard to breathe. You tell yourself it’s relief—that this is what you wanted—but the emptiness feels like punishment. You try to convince yourself he’s sulking, biding his time, waiting for the perfect moment to make you regret leaving him.

But the longer it stretches on, the more it begins to feel permanent.

You could care less what this means for Vought. All the company seems to care about is who will lead the Seven now. Should they try to replace Homelander or lean into the “team-first” narrative Ashley has been pushing? PR scrambles to keep the media from asking too many questions, trotting out The Deep and Black Noir to cover for him.

But the public isn’t buying it.

Those who love him are afraid he is hurt. Those who hate him post conspiracy theories about Homelander going rogue - which feels way more accurate.

Either way, if Homelander doesn’t want to be found, no one can find him.

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

Your days stretch out unfathomably long. You expected to feel free, to savor the clean air and the wide-open spaces of a world without him. Instead, his absence is louder than his presence ever was.

When he was there, he consumed everything: every thought, every moment, every inch of your life. You hated it, resented it, but at least you understood it. His attention, no matter how suffocating, meant you mattered.

But now there’s nothing.

The silence echoes like a scream, reverberating through every corner of your mind. Every sleepless night, every anxious thought loops back to him. Where is he? What is he doing? Is he coming back?

You start to wonder if this is how he wanted it—to leave you drowning in uncertainty, gasping for closure you’ll never get. Maybe this is his ultimate revenge.

Or maybe…

Maybe he’s broken in ways even you can’t fix.

You almost wish for his cruelty, for the familiar push-and-pull of his twisted affection. Because this? This void where he once loomed so large?

It feels like dying.

No. You have to seek him out. You can't quite tell if it's for his sake or yours... you can figure that out later.

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

Monster's Lament

The room is dark, lit only by the faint glow of the moon filtering through cracked blinds. Dust floats in the air, settling over the relics of a forgotten time—old Vought propaganda posters peeling from the walls, a long-dead television covered in grime. It’s quiet here, too quiet, save for the clock that's miraculously still ticking.

Homelander sits slumped in a battered chair, his suit grimy, his cape discarded on the floor in a crumpled heap. His head is in his hands, his golden locks disheveled, the picture of a god brought low.

“You warned her,” a voice says, syrupy sweet.

Homelander doesn’t look up, doesn’t need to—he knows where it’s coming from.

The mirror.

He lifts his gaze reluctantly, and there it is: his own reflection staring back at him, but not quite right. The eyes burn brighter, the teeth are sharper, the smile is crueler. It leans forward as if trying to crawl out of the glass.

"You warned her," it sings again. "But did she listeeeen." "Not now, okay?" Homelander pleads.

The face in the mirror laughs. "Jesus fucking Christ, this is so pathetic. What are you waiting for, for her to come find you? For her to need you?" "She does need me." “Oh, sure. Because you gave her everything. The flying, the fancy dinners, the cape-flipping bullshit. But what did she give you?” It leans closer, its grin widening. “Pity. That’s what. You wanted love, and all you ever got was pity.”

“That’s not true,” Homelander growls, but his voice wavers.

“Isn’t it?” The reflection tilts its head, almost playfully. “She stayed because she felt sorry for you. The broken little boy in the big man’s body. She didn’t love you, not really. She loved the idea of fixing you. And when she couldn’t—”

“Shut up!” Homelander’s voice cracks as he lurches to his feet, his hands trembling.

The reflection’s grin doesn’t falter. If anything, it grows wider. “What’s the matter, Johnny? Don’t like the truth?”

He stands frozen, a deer in headlights. He never learned to deal with complex emotions, and even after all this time, it wraps around him like a boa constrictor, cutting off his air supply and rooting him to the ground.

And the reflection starts to sing. “Don’t feed me, honey. Don’t be kind to me.”

The lyrics echo around Homelander, twisting like a blade.

"Don't give it a hand, offer it a soul Honey, make this easy Leave it to the land, this is what it knows."

"STOP IT" Homelander cries.

"Don't let me in with no intention to keep me Jesus Christ, don't be kind to me Honey, don't feed me, I will come back"

"You're supposed to be on MY side." Homelander says. "I am. This is what that looks like," It replies.

Homelander's stares ahead, his fists clenched, his jaw tights, his eyes ready to burn holes into the mirror. The silence stretches, heavy and suffocating.

Homelander closes his eyes, but her face is there, burned into his eyelids. The way she looked at him—like he was more than the sum of his power, more than the monster everyone else saw. He hates her for it. He loves her for it.

“Why did you leave?” he whispers to himself.

The reflection’s smile vanishes. For a moment, it almost looks… pitying.

“Because you allowed it,” it says simply.

The words hit like a punch to the gut.

"She fed you ONCE. And you kept going to her like a stray fucking dog. You took her mercy and her love and you became weak. Nobody wants weakness, Johnny." It leans forward, smiling, canines gleaming, "Whatcha gonna do about it?"

Homelander looks at the ground. Shame and desperation wash over him, and he blinks tears back.

"You're going to claim her. And you'll make sure she never, ever leaves again. Right?"

Homelander doesn't look up from the floor.

It gets irritated. "Right?"

Silence.

It rolls its eyes. "Do you want ME to do it?"

Homelander looks up, hope obvious in his bright blue eyes.

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

You don’t intend to start looking for him. It just… happens.

It begins with small, idle habits—clicking on articles about Vought’s latest scandals, scrolling through old news coverage, and watching grainy footage of staged rescues from years past. Your eyes search for him automatically, for that familiar streak of red and blue cutting through the chaos.

Then it escalates.

You start wandering the city at night, tracing the paths he once flew you along. You visit the rooftops where he used to land with a flourish, his cape billowing dramatically in the wind. You linger outside the exclusive restaurants where he once paraded you like a trophy, his smile razor-sharp as he soaked in the envy of the other diners.

But it’s not just the glamorous places.

You walk down seedy alleys and explore dark corners—the forgotten places he claimed as private retreats. The places where he could let his guard down, where the mask of America’s golden boy slipped.

It feels grotesque, this act of seeking him out. Like you’re willingly feeding the monster you swore you’d escape. You hate yourself for it, for the way your heart leaps at the thought of seeing him again, even if it’s just to tell him to his face that you’re done.

But you can’t stop.

You start putting yourself in danger—not consciously, but recklessly enough that it’s obvious even to you. Walking alone through neighborhoods that turn predatory after dark. Taking late-night trains without any plan or destination. Part of you hopes he’ll swoop in, cape flaring, to save you in one of his dramatic displays of power.

But he doesn’t.

Instead, one night, it’s Black Noir who finds you.

The alley is suffocatingly narrow, the air heavy with the mingling stench of rotting garbage and damp asphalt. The dim, flickering streetlight overhead barely illuminates the passage as two men circle you like predators. Their laughter is low and ugly, their shadows long and distorted against the brick walls.

You freeze, your breath caught somewhere between a scream and a sob, as one of them lunges toward you. You pray even now that he'll swoop in from somewhere.

And then he’s there.

Black Noir steps from the shadows like death itself. His arrival is so silent, so abrupt, that the men don’t even notice him until it’s too late. A gloved hand clamps down on one man’s shoulder, spinning him around with an almost casual effort. Noir doesn’t waste time. The blow is swift, brutal—a single strike to the man’s temple that sends him crumpling to the ground.

The second man barely has time to react, stumbling backward with a terrified curse. Noir closes the distance in an instant, his movements fluid and precise. A sharp crack echoes through the alley as the man’s arm is wrenched at an unnatural angle. He screams, but Noir silences him with a swift knee to the ribs. He falls, gasping and broken, as Noir turns to you.

The black Kevlar of his suit gleams faintly in the dim light, the contours of his armor making him seem more shadow than man. His helmet hides his face entirely, the opaque visor reflecting your terrified expression back at you. He stands perfectly still, his chest rising and falling with controlled breaths, his presence both menacing and oddly comforting.

You crumble to the ground, your legs giving out beneath you as adrenaline and fear collide in your veins. Relief washes over you, but it’s tainted by something darker—frustration, disappointment, an aching sense of abandonment.

Noir kneels on the ground to make sure you're okay.

“Why—why isn’t he here?” you sob, your voice breaking. The words spill out of you, raw and unfiltered, as you pound your fists weakly against Noir’s chest.

He doesn’t move.

“Why won’t he come for me?” you cry, your hands trembling against the hard, unyielding surface of his armor. “He’s supposed to be here. He’s always here.”

Noir doesn’t answer. Of course, he doesn’t. He simply stands there, a silent sentinel as your emotions spill over in a torrent of tears and ragged gasps. His helmet tilts ever so slightly, as if he’s observing you, but he offers no comfort, no words of reassurance.

You clutch at him like a drowning person reaching for a lifeline, your fingers curling around the slick fabric of his suit. The tears come harder now, soaking into the Kevlar as you press your face against him.

“I hate him,” you whisper through clenched teeth, though the bitterness in your voice is softened by the despair in your heart. “I hate him for leaving.”

Noir stands up, lifting you with him, and lets you go once he's sure you're standing straight. His silence is maddening. Why isn't he angry that you're being ungrateful? Why isn't he at least talking about Homelander disappearing? ANYTHING?

You finally step back, your hands trembling as you wipe at your tear-streaked face. Your gaze meets Noir’s visor, and for a moment, you imagine you see something there—pity, perhaps, or understanding. But it’s gone as quickly as it came, replaced by the blank, inscrutable void of his masked expression.

“Thank you,” you whisper hoarsely, though the words feel hollow. What you really want to say is, Why wasn’t it him?

Noir doesn’t react. He simply steps back, his movements as quiet and calculated as ever, before melting into the shadows.

You’re alone again, the weight of Homelander's absence pressing down on you like a physical force.

But... a thought creeps in. If Black Noir came, then Homelander must know, too. They all have access to the same intel. He knows where you are and what you’re doing, and still—still—he hasn’t come for you.

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GUYS, I think this is going to be a three-parter. Bear with me. The next chapter will be the last. Let me know what you guys think and if you want to be tagged to the third one!

Thank you for all the love 😭😭

[thedeadstoryteller1]

𝓢𝓾𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓸𝓷𝓼 𝓗𝓲𝓰𝓱 | 𝓩𝓪𝔂𝓷𝓮 𝔁 𝓡𝓮𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓻

𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘠𝘰𝘶'𝘷𝘦 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘯 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘈𝘴𝘬𝘰 𝘏𝘰𝘴𝘱𝘪𝘵𝘢𝘭 𝘧𝘰𝘳 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘦𝘬𝘴. 𝘈𝘧𝘵𝘦𝘳 𝘢𝘯 𝘪𝘯𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘦 𝘮𝘰𝘮𝘮𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘢𝘯 𝘦𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘢𝘵𝘰𝘳, 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘡𝘢𝘺𝘯𝘦 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘥𝘰𝘸𝘯 𝘪𝘯 𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘦.

𝘛𝘢𝘨𝘴: Oral Sex, Established Realationship, Fluff, Breeding Kink, Vaginal Sex, Crempie, Praise, My love.

Artist: X / Twitter | @xiandao1213

“Yvonne.. Tell me how much longer my shift is.” She chuckles slightly at my child like whine.

“You’re like this because Dr. Zayne has been in surgery all day.” She retorts. If she didn't have a mask on I could see her big grin. Her eyes shut slightly when she smiles like that.

“Okay you don’t have to call me out like that.” I snort.

She’s right though. I get moody when Zayne is busy, it gets so boring sometimes transporting patients to different areas of the hospital. For the past few weeks I’ve been working at Akso Hospital. The decrease in wanderer activity caused me to look for a part-time job. Zayne offered to help me with my expenses but I refused, so as a solution he was able to find me a job here. Of course I was mortified and refused again, but when no other job was calling I ended up taking him up on the offer. For three days out of the week I’m transporting patients to different areas of the hospital. Who knew this was an actual thing that people get paid to do. It’s not a hard job, however it gets so boring having to wait for an assignment. On the bright side, wearing scrubs is so comfy.

“Dr. Zayne should be getting out soon from his surgery in 15 minutes, if all went well. You can transport his patient to the ICU once closing is done.” Yvonne winks at me, still keeping that same big grin. I can’t help my face turning bright red, she lets out a big laugh causing the nurses station to grow silent. We both can’t help but giggle at the awkward stares from our peers.

“Operating room five?” I say staring at the OR board, “I’m getting kinda good at reading medical lingo.”

‘‘Mhmm.” Yvonne mutters, as she hands me the patient pickup report. “Don’t get lost again.” She says as I’m heading away. Once again she calls me out, I can’t help but to get flustered all over again. There is a hard fact about me working here, I get lost all the time.

It’s been longer than 15 minutes, I made it everywhere but OR five. How did I even manage to make it to the morgue? This is going to be my second write up for patient tardiness. Another one and I’m kissing this job goodbye. I punch the elevator button rapidly so it can open. My stomach is in knots, the overwhelming anxiety is causing me to sweat. I’m a hunter for crying out loud. I can read a map, but I can’t understand the hospital layout. Ridiculous. Consumed by my thoughts, I rush into the elevator as soon as it opens. A loud HUMPH is heard as I collide into a body.

Oh shit. I know this cologne.

“Lost again are we?” His sarcastic tone makes the hair on the back of my neck stand up. I can’t bring myself to look up at him. I know he has that stupid smirk on his face.

Zayne chuckles. As I try to back away to create some space between us, he takes his hand and holds my waist all while resting his chin on my head.

“I got lost trying to find OR five.” I mutter in his chest. Having Zayne so close to me and feeling his hand on my waist makes my already knotted stomach do back flips.

“Hmmm. Ms. Hunter, it seems as If I need to show you the hospital again.” He starts swaying us softly side to side, as if we were dancing. The elevator doors close and we start to ascend.

“Did the surgery go well?” I whisper trying not to ruin our moment.

“As expected, the patient will make full recovery.” He lifts his head up, still looking down into his chest. I take my arms and wrap them around him. If I could, I would freeze us in this movement forever. All of my worries, all of my doubts fade when I’m with him like this. His calmness soothes me in ways I can’t explain. I am truly in love with him.

He places his free hand under my chin, cupping it softly causing me to lift my head and meet his gaze. Before I can even react, he leans in and kisses me. His soft lips collide into mine. Slow and sweet, I kiss him back. But the knot that was in my stomach turns into a fire, a hunger for his touch and skin. As the anxiety leaves my body, my hands find their way to his hair, I tug on it slightly causing a small whimper escape his lips. I stand on my tippy toes and make our kiss more passionate, sliding my tongue in his mouth. His hands move from their previous positions and without hesitation he lifts me up. I wrap my legs around his waist, his hands hold my ass for support. There is no struggle from Zayne, he lifts me up and pushes my back against the wall with ease. We break away from our kiss and gasp for air, looking into his eyes again I see his hunger and wanting. The feeling in my pants makes me bite on my lip, his lips curiver in response. A small smirk appears on his face as he catches his breath.

“Naughty girl.” He pants.

“Teach me a lesson.” I smirk

The elevator doors open, and my heart stops working. We quickly let go of each other creating some sort of distance. Zayne shuffles his hair and clears his throat, however there is no hiding the bulge in his scrub pants. Oh how I know he wishes he had his lab coat on. I quickly adjusted my scrub top and hair. Looking at the floor number and realizing we are at the main lobby, Zayne gives a friendly nod at the elderly couple who just walked in, and quickly exits out of the elevator.

“My office after your shift, we need to discuss our conversation further.” He says as before the doors close.

Zayne the man that you are.

The couple gives me a sassy smile and my face grows red. The awkward tension in the room almost makes me throw up. The next stop, I quickly exit the elevator. Now to find the nurses station.

After receiving my second write up, I glance at the clock and see it’s time for me to leave. Midnight. Remembering Zayne’s words I make my way to his office. Knowing that route like the back of my hand, my thoughts take me to the moment in the elevator. The way his eyes looked, like he was going to lose control. His hands on my ass gripping me tightly, the way my cunt was burning for him. He was so confident, so ready to devour me. Surgeons high. I’ve heard of the nurses talking about it before, it’s when after performing a risky surgery the doctor feels a sense of adrenaline and a boost to their ego causes the blood to flow. The thought of cool, calm, collected Zayne disappeared to the man in the elevator.

When I arrive at his office door, I hesitate before knocking. What are you feeling now, Zayne? Pushing my anxiety aside, I place two knocks before I hear his voice telling me to enter. He is sitting at his desk, still wearing his dark navy blue scrubs, the lab coat is hanging perfectly on the coat rack. In the dim office the moonlight illuminates his soft face. He's on the computer typing away.

“Lock it.” He demands, not taking his eyes off the screen. The directness causes me to react instantly. Oh so it’s going to be like that … fine. Let's play Dr. Zayne.

I make my way to his desk and perfectly sit on the corner, crossing my legs like a perfect school girl. He is still typing, not looking away from the screen.

“Finishing the report ?” I glance over.

He closes the computer quickly and rotates his chair to face me, leaning back as he stares me down. His eyes scan my body, there is a hint of lust but they mostly scream admiration.

“Have I ever told you how great you look in scrubs?” he smirks. My dark violet scrubs look almost black with this lighting. I chuckle at his comment.

“They are rather nice but I do miss my hunter uniform.” We both smile.

He scoots his chair in front of me.

“I like you more without clothes.” His low raspy whisper catches me off guard, he takes his hands and parts my legs open. The unexpected move catches me off guard and I jump at his touch. His eyes look at me again, asking for permission. Do your worst. I nodded at his permission.

“Lay down.” He demands as his hands proceeds to take off my scrub pants and panties. I kick my shoes off quickly.

“Close your eyes and don’t make a sound, my love.” His tongue takes no time in finding my clit, rubbing sweet circles around it. Unable to control my movements, my legs close in on his face, I quickly cover my mouth with my hands and thankfully so because his tongue is doing wonders. With each flick and rub, my body trembles sending shockwaves. He goes faster with each squirm. Putting my legs over his shoulders, he grips onto my thighs making me unable to leave. I feel myself coming close to climax.

“Z-Z-Zayne I-I-I’m g-gonna cum.” I moan as quietly as possible. His tongue movements become faster. I bite the inside of my cheeks, in a few seconds my back arches at the feeling of release. Moaning quietly but wanting to scream is torture. He slows down and my muscles relax. I’m gasping for breath, flustered and hot. He gets up from his seat, locking eyes with me once more. His ears are red and he licks his lips.

“You taste sweet.” We chuckle

“I want you please.” I beg him. His eyes darken again and no second is wasted. He lowers his scrub pants a bit, taking my legs over his shoulders; he teases me with his cock. Rubbing the tip up and down my throbbing cunt. Zayne please my eyes beg him.

With no warning he shoves his dick deep into my pussy hitting my cervix, giving me no time to adjust to his big dick. I don’t contain my moan and he quickly covers my mouth.

“Fuck you’re tight.” He whispers almost enough so I don’t hear him. I can’t help but to smile at the sound of him cursing. He notices my smile and starters thrusting faster and harder, the desk moves slightly. “Turn around.” he demands. Obeying his order, I lower my legs and 180 spin onto my stomach, all while Zayne is still inside me. With my feet planted onto the ground for support, he grabs onto my waist and starts to pound me.

Low moans from the both of us fill the room. His thrusting is fast and deep, causing my legs to shake with each clap. A few tears fall from my eyes, I want to scream, to moan his name loudly but I restrain myself. I know he’s trying hard as well, sometimes a small grunt escapes but he followers it with a thrust. He thrust so hard that it causes the things on his desk to fall over, the neat and tidy office soon turns into a mess with papers and pens on the ground. A loud bang is heard when a metal cup falls and hits the floor.

A knock on the door causes my heart to drop. Zayne doesn't stop.

“Dr. Zayne, are you alright in there?” A muffled voice is heard from the other side.

“Yes (grunt) Dr. Greyson I (huff) just dropped a few things.” I’m biting my lip so hard it bleeds a little bit. Zayne pulls me closer, putting his hand over my mouth. I moan a little at the feeling of his cock shifting.

“I finished the report sir, shall I come in and bring it to you.” The door handle shakes a bit but with no success of opening it stops.

Zayne leans in and whispers in my ear “Let me cum inside you.” I shake my head yes, closing my eyes.

“Slide it under the door, I’m changing.” With no questions the folder slides in perfectly.

“You’re a good girl.” He purrs resting his head on mine. With that Zayn’s hot cum fills my insides. My legs shake at my release as well. We both pant heavily like feral dogs trying to catch a breath. His dick twitches inside of me, making sure I take all of his fill. Fuck. Zayne hugs me tightly from behind. I feel his chest rise up and down quickly. He places a kiss on the back of my head. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” I say trying to hold myself up, but my legs are so shaky that I turn into mush in his arms. He holds my weight making sure I don’t fall on the floor. Gently he takes me to his office chair and sits me on it slowly. Small drops of sweat trickle down from his face, he is still gorgeous though. A gorgeous, hot and sweaty mess. My mess.

“I wasn’t too rough was I?” His eyes show concern and remorse as he wipes the tears from my eyes cupping my cheek in the process.

“No, absolutely not.” I hold his hand with mine, smiling softly. “I need to start making my way over here after your surgeries if this is what your high makes you do.”

He laughs, his sweet velvet laugh is music to my ears. It’s so rare to hear. Once again I freeze this moment into my brain. The rarity of hearing his laugh, his green eyes glowing in the moonlight, his hand on my cheek. I make sure to lock it so it can never leave my memories.

“My high?” he questions, still slightly chickling in the process.

“You know .. the high that every surgeon gets after succeeding a risky operation.” I tease.

“My love, I never thought I would say this but I miss you fighting wanderers. The hospital lingo is catching up to you.” He smiles.

“Expect the layout apparently.” I huff.

He shakes his head slightly before placing a soft kiss on my lips. “Let's go home.”

[sun-flower-children]

Academic Rivals! Viktor x Reader

Academy Student!Viktor x gn!Reader

Here's my take on this idea that has been rumbling around my brain especially with all the new viktor fics ( yall are doing the lords work)

not proof read + a lot longer than I thought it would be, sorry lmao

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

You were the Academy's top student known to be the top of the class with the highest scores always exceeding expectations.

Your creative thinking and problem solving is what normally got you the spotlight of attention within academia.

Naturally after spending your first two years of the Academy eating up the attention and receiving offers from multiple elite members of society, industry and government certainly made your resume/reputation an intimidating one.

Your peers knew you to be competitive and ambitious wanting to be the one to set the curve; extensive research projects, etc.

This did however make you a poor teammate with your passionate ideas that one of them could dream of keeping up with you. Plus you would steal the leadership role from them to implement the changes you'd want.

You had gotten used to pattern created for you with a bright future ahead.

Even if you were getting kind of bored of knowing that your worst idea would still allow you to keep your rank.

Then all the sudden a new student joins the Academy

It didn't bother you much until you started seeing a drop in your scores and ranking thus creating a rivalry with this mysterious student.

It was not until you and Viktor shared a class that you realized who your academic opponent was

Thus starting a new chapter of your academic career with renewed passion upon knowing there was finally someone that could equal you in skill.

Fighting for everything within the academic realm that was available

Now neither of you had ever officially been introduced or carried a proper conversation instead replacing regular communication with pointed looks of smugness or confidence.

You would have angry fits in private realizing the margin that you had lost to Viktor

Long days and nights spent gaining a potential advantage over your rival.

Your friends would point out how you would almost pop a vein just describing the way that he would "usurp the first place on an exam all because of a technicality"

Honestly when you would get really into it you were sure that you hated this guy: coming out of nowhere with no prior history and just takes over everything you have worked hard to establish.

Who does he think he is????

Now all your professors, namely Himerdinger paid close attention to this rivalry. It's entertaining watching your top 2 students hash it out and creating things they would not have without this push.

Himerdinger seeing how honed in your other skills were decided to create a project for the class specifically targeting you both.

A partnered project

One that could not change neither the topic, the partner or the day that it was to be presented; everything set in stone.

" Learning the skills needed in a lab is one thing but the most important and impactful discoveries have always been those created through teamwork." Himerdinger would share one fateful day as he put up the paper listing the groups.

It did not even cross your mind that you would have been paired with Viktor and after looking at the poster turned around a looked at him.

Viktor was still sitting in his front row seat in the lecture room patiently waiting for the crowd to dissipate before getting up to look at the paper.

He continued to wrap up whatever notes he had taken as you step up to him.

"We are assigned partners for this project." you say very matter a factly.

Viktor looks up to you with a small smile," Well then, we should set up times to work on the project together. What times work best for you?"

You were taken aback by his nonchalance.

Did he really not care that he was partnered with you? Did he not see you as significant enough to mention the obvious tension? Did he not even see you as a rival but a regular student below him???

After a short pause you share what time you are normally at the library.

As you share the details he finished packing up his stuff.

Looking back up to with another slightly bigger smile (what is his game???) " I'll see you then. Tomorrow at table four."

With that he leans on his cane and leaves you in the quiet empty classroom to deliberate your next moves.

That night you started working on the project creating multiple schemes, ideas, and conceptual ideas that could be used for the project put forth.

You went to bed hoping to finally force him to recognize you as the rival that you were as he seemed so dismissive before.

You showed up to the library at the arranged time to see Viktor sitting peacefully at a study table thumbing through multiple volumes seemingly looking for a specific piece of information.

"Good Morning." you started as you walked up to him.

Without even looking up he returns the same early day greeting and places yet another volume aside and opening a new one.

Raising an eyebrow that the attitude you place your things on the other side of the table.

"I was thinking last night about this project and had written down some ideas that I believe that we should pick from as our approach." you open the discussion with no changed behavior from your supposed teammate.

You continue, " I have already taken the liberty to research them, for your convenience, and have supplied preliminary data for each one. Honestly any of these would resolve the problem raised by our projects prompt with their main difference being how creative you wanted to get with it."

Viktor has created yet another pile of abandoned books that didn't meet his mysterious criteria all the while not regarding you properly.

Your felt your self becoming more warmer as you felt the irritation pool into the oil pit of anger you have created surrounding him.

"It's considered polite to respond or at the very least acknowledge when someone is talking to you. Or are you so focused on your book hunt you aren't ever looking at the person you are supposed to be completing this project with."

Viktor sighs putting the book currently in his possession down and looks up to you.

"It was not my intention to be rude I am just looking for a specific volume that has a unique perspective on the concept we learned a week ago but the title is slipping my mind."

Sighing you sit down and observe the collection of books created on the table.

"I'm going to go on a limb here and assume that you only really remember that the color of the book was dark blue?"

Viktor chuckled," Observant and yes I am."

"Well you aren't going to find it in the library considering there is only one copy of it. That author's take was considered almost heretic."

"Ah, so you are familiar with the book I am referencing?"

"It would be strange if I didn't considering that I brought it with me to our meeting. I checked it out a week ago because it piqued my interest and also happened to align with this assignment."

You hold it out over the table as Viktor sighs again running a hand through his hair.

The meeting ended up going on for longer than expected.

You were surprised to find that he has a similar perspective to yours and understood your vision from the multiple proposals that you had created.

Further analysis showed some minor flaws that would otherwise be overlooked by other people; but neither of you too were not going to settle for anything less than perfection.

The more that the two of you poured over ideas, equations, concepts, and plans until you came up with a path that pleased you both with only one variable that needing some testing.

Viktor offered to go his smaller private study that he had already set up a similar experiment (he was also trying ideas out the night before)

Walking side by side down the hallways was a strange feeling.

Not because you were walking slower that your default rushed walking pace but because this person that you had, honestly, really hated and rationalized that was cheating somehow....wasn't.

You hated to admit it as you continued to listen to his rambling on of the missing component that they needed to figure out.

(Shit...he is actually just naturally brilliant)

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

part 1 | part 2 >

[hyperbali]

This seemed to go over well on r/dragonage, so I will also share it over here!

The question was:

Which DA Romances Do You Think Would Be Open To Having Kids?

DAO

Alistair - if he's got that Strong Theirin Bullshit going on, I think he's having a couple kids regardless of if it's with HoF or Anora. He's a great goofy dad but can't discipline worth a damn.

Leliana - Mmh... she would probably prefer to adopt rather than give birth, I think. Even then, she seems more like an auntie than a mother.

Morrigan - Did not ever foresee or want it for herself, but is a pretty decent mom by virtue of not wanting to be like Flemeth. Not a "cool" mom, but would let her kids have their independence.

Zevran - I can only ever see it being on accident, as beforehand he would have absolutely denied it - but once the possibility is in reach, he can't let the idea go. Ultimate Girl Dad.

DA2

Anders - Nope. Back in Awakening he liked his freedom without fetters too much, and over the course of 2 he gets too focused on becoming a martyr. Ain't ever gonna happen.

Fenris - Not something I think he actively wants, but is willing to take responsibility if it happens. He's the kind of stoic dad that it's hard to get an outward reaction from, but he's definitely protective of his kids.

Isabela - HAHA. That's adorable, kitten! (She probably just ends up kind of semi-adopting a galley kid, but in a way one would adopt a stray outdoor cat - leave it to its business.)

Merrill - Kind of taken aback by the idea, but secretly grows on it. I think she'd probably end up more of a mother figure to refugee elves, though.

DAI

Blackwall - Much as it's cute to think of him as a dad, I think what he did with the mercenary company is going to haunt him too much, even if he goes back to being Thom. He's content with the Inquisitor alone.

Cassandra - So long as she's not Divine, she would be willing to consider it - but would only want just one. Hard disciplinarian, but secretly a softie on some occasions.

Cullen - He's gonna end up having to build an entire farm community just to house all the impending kids and dogs. This man wants a BIG FAMILY.

Dorian - The thought of it is instantly repellant to him just on the basis of it having been expected of him for so long. He'd also be quietly terrified of ending up like his own father, hurting his own child while thinking he's doing his best for them... so no, definitely not happening.

Iron Bull - Hadn't ever really thought about it... ever, but if he's Tal-Vashoth, his heart melts when he sees any of his own babies for the first time. Any kid's got him wrapped around their little finger, and a whole host of aunts and uncles in the Chargers.

Josephine - She wants at least two, but preferably three - it simply wouldn't do for any of her children to grow up lonely. Hilariously, she's one of the strictest parents.

Sera - She sort of just wants to keep the Inquisitor all to herself for as long as she can, but if her wife really, really wanted it, she'd shrug and say why not? An alright mom, especially when they're still little, but I think she'd get really frustrated when they hit their teens.

Solas - He would like to say he doesn't wish it were possible, sometimes. He would like to say that.

DAV

Bellara - She would go nuts tracking down every single child-rearing research material she could and generally get herself anxious about it, but she'd turn out to be one of the best moms of the bunch.

Davrin - Willing to adopt after a while, especially once Assan starts getting older and leaving for longer periods of time as he gains his independence. That kiddo is definitely growing up with the best boy bird-cat-dog protector. Bit of a gruff dad, but he means well and can ease up with help.

Emmrich - Either way you shake it, probably not. Either he's content with Manfred and wouldn't want to chance leaving a young child behind when he eventually passes, or he just can't because he's a lich. For the latter, though, I think he'd be a great dadly mentor for the ages.

Harding - The ultimate in mommy cottagecore. TELL me you can't see her hiking through a forest with a bundled baby on her back, a kidlet skipping at her side, singing together as they head back home for the day. Adorable.

Lucanis - Incredibly unnerved by how much pressure is on him by being The Last Man Standing of the Dellamortes and what that means for their legacy, as well as being terrified over the possibility of what Spite could do to a child... but man, the thought haunts him. He wants to feel part of a close family again so bad. He would cry the first time he held his baby.

Neve - Probably not interested in having any of her own, but definitely ends up being kind of the boss-slash-denmother of a bunch of urchins in Docktown. She (lightly) bullies them into eating and sleeping, and they're her eyes from the shadows.

Taash - Their hang-ups over their mom are way too intense for that. Helping other Qunari and/or Tal-Vashoth adjust to a non-Qun life is about as far as that idea is gonna get.

[lazyneonrabbitt]

Snowed in

Adar x reader

A meeting with Adar took a quite pleasant turn thanks to bad weather.

Winter was in full swing. Most of Middle Earth's lands already covered in a thick layer of snow.

Mordor was next on the list, the reports of a storm closing in quickly spreading from one uruk town to the other. Some had found their settlements already with a light dusting of powdered snow overnight.

Your new home, once Tirharad and now the main uruk settlement where Adar resided, expected a storm soon.

Everyone was expected to either stay in their homes or at their workplace as to not get caught in the freezing snowfall.

And yet here you sat, patiently waiting for Adar to finish up his task before he'd discuss your needed things as advisor of all things mortal.

"Lord Father, Adar.." You stepped up beside him at the table. "You have been at this for days now, at least let me try to assist to we can discuss our planned items."

You wanted nothing more than to put your hands on his shoulders and squeeze. Undo some of the tension built up over days of not leaving his desk to work through winter plans. But you knew better than to touch him without permission, and you were not in the mood to lose a hand over something as small as this.

"Winter will be harsh. Wirh our current ways we will not have enough food to make it to spring." Adar's head hung low, hands in his hair as he let out a frustrated growl. He was the leader here, their Lord Father who had saved them and now couldn't even manage to get them through one winter after finally settling down..

"Adar, if I may.." With a slight tremble you reached for the papers that weren's stuck under his elbows and looked them over. The amount of details that were thought of, calculated and are being actively monitored were some of the most well done you had ever seen.

"Wait, what if we.." You dlid one of the papers back under Adar's nose, getting his attention once more and started laying down ideas. With each one you could see Adar's ears perk up, no longer drooping in a tired manner.

The ancient uruk was impressed, seeing a positive in this mess now. "So, I take you would have men take care of this? As it is their field of expertise. My uruk know nothing of this, so I also hope you will find someone who is willing to teach them."

Scribbling along, you both crossed issue after issue off the list, solving multiple at once with something as simple as what you suggested. You got so into the task it just kept going and going until a harsh gust of wind broke the door lock, making it slam against brick and have you both rush to close and secure it.

Adar watched you shiver and sulk. It looked like you stared at the storm outside through the wood paneling of the door.

With the door secured, Adar led you to the fireplace. It only downed on him now that mortals handled cold way worse than the uruk, and when your shivering wouldn't stop he offered you a large fur blanket.

Adar gave you time to get back to temperature, but quickly noticed you were too tired to continue your previous task.

All the while, you sat with your gaze on the fire. Your mind racing at how physically close you had been just now with your body between him and the door as he held it closed while you secured the lock. Oh you wanted to endlessly daydream about ways that could have escalated if you just weren't such a coward and confessed how you felt for your leader.

Adar had put your combined works aside for now and stared from a distance. Your tired frame, hunched over near the fire was a view he enjoyed. You fit well in his home, and once more he felt like a part of his mind cleared. He always saw mortals as lower creatures. Perhaps it was a remnant of his elven days that never left as he compared them now to the strength and endurance his uruk had.

But the mortals had smarts, techniques and ways of survival he had never in his long lifetime needed. And somehow he had never filed you together with the others. Not with how you presented yourself and willed to help both halves of this community Adar had built.

No, Adar saw you higher than the mortals, and now started to see a positive in having you as his equal.

There, in the safety of Adar's home, two minds raced. Silence took over the place, only the crackle of the fireplace sounding in the corner.

A contrast lay in the room.

On one end, close to the door and far into the shadow where small tabletop candles had burned out. Where the cold creeped through the cracks in the doorframe stood Adar, who's mind fought wether the human would even care for the ancient monstrosity rhat had captured her and forced her to live in his wretched lands.

Words of his children floated by. Words of his affection towards the mortal advisor. He had always dismissed them, for he knew he respected her for her openness towards the uruk, and her clear vision of how the two kinds would live alongside. But his uruk felt it was affection. Some even dared to call it love and it had Adar almost act on their teasing multiple times, but always shut it down just in time for her not to notice.

And on the other, covered in firelight and warmth sat you. Head unable to stop screaming to pull him towards you into the comfort of the blankets you sat on.

Voices of the many female uruk you spend time with spoke all at once. The eldest ones who joked about your longing stares. And the ones who you assumed shared your age, who made every suggestion under the hidden sun to get his attention. To go talk to him and charm him. To wear that pretty dress and seduce him. Surely Adar would be excited to lay with a pretty lady in a pretty dress, as they said.

But why would a being with such skill and life experience, with such knowledge and power be interested in a mere mortal? It was your last thought before your body gave in to sleep.

Adar didn't need sleep as much as you did, so he sat and watched you, read once again over your scribbled notes until he heard something.

You were shivering. The fire had gone down to smoldering coals and he had barely noticed the change in temperature. Yet you suffered in the cold.

With a new plan in mind Adar moved to the bedtoom, where he rid himself of his armor and left him in just his trousers and undershirt. Bare feet padded along the wooden floorboards on his way to pick you up. His bed was warmer, and if he took the furs you had already laid on and warmed with yoir body heat he could make sure you stayed warm.

You hadn't stirred awake during his process which eased his mind, but still you would not stop regain warmth. He had stayed inthe room with you, watching to calm his own mind that cursed at him for failing you so badly.

He thought of his children. Hoe would they respond if they knew their Lord Father was failing at the simple task of keeping the mortal from freezing.

His children.

The youngest ones who'd all pile up together and huddle up for warmth, sharing body heat.

Lords, he was an idiot.

What? No. There was no way you'd be okay with it. You'd wake up and demand to leave, unable to be that close to a foul creature like himself.

He had to. He knew it would work, so pushing every burning curse from his mind he removed his shirt, laid it over the furs you slept underneath and used all he had left of his elven self to be as light on his feet as he could, crawling into bed with you.

You stirred. You woke up and Adar mentally tore himself to shreds for ruining your sleep.

"Adar?" You didn't dare to turn and look, and a confirmed hum made it so you didn't need to.

"You were cold. I hoped to keep you warm." In his anger he disconnected himself from you and earned a sad almost whine, feeling you press your back against his chest once more and grabbing to find his arm and pull it against you.

Adar's arm. The one you had never seen uncovered, always hidden underneath long sleeves and that large gauntlet.

"Thank you." A quiet mumble was all you managed, Adar's warmth already affecting you. Not that he had heard you. Not with his full focus on your fingers tracing his twisted, scarred arm with the most gentle touch he had ever felt.

So there it was. The one action that disspelled his demons shouting he would never be loved by another. You cared for him like he cared for you.

With a soft, shaky breath he pressed his lips against the back of your head. "Sleep well." He uttered against your scalp, pulling you tighter against him and nuzzling into you.

It was overwhelming, how you were being handled so gently and with such love. So your differences never truly mattered after all.

You both slept better than ever. So much that you slept long past the storm outside, much yo the worry of Adar's children.

Glûg was the one tasked with checking on him whenever he did not show up and dared not to wake you both.

Once the two of you had gotten ready to leave the house, the whole town was in celebration of their Lord Father finally having taken home the fair mortal lady.

And the women happily informed you of uruk breeding habits, leaving you red-faced and fleeing the scene.

[oodlyenough]

more arcane s2 thoughts in no particular order. this is pretty negative. woops

Cait, Vi, Caitvi

despite being what initially got me watching to begin with caitvi just never ended up being my primary interest with this show, so going into s2 it wasn't like I had very well formulated expectations or hopes. I think if I had I would maybe feel disappointed? They had some nice moments, they got the kiss and the sex scene, they're clearly endgame, etc, and that's nice, but it also felt like their relationship was so ... never really the star of the show or focus of the story to the extent I expected it to be. Did they even get a big fight-together battle-couple moment in the last ep, I don't think so? I didn't find the resolution to their Act 1 breakup especially good, I think Caitlyn owed Vi an apology and Vi deserved to be angry for longer than ten seconds.

I generally feel across both seasons that Vi's pain and trauma is rarely given as much weight as other characters', I was pretty underwhelmed by Caitlyn's dictator arc after being extremely interested in it at the end of act 1...

I dunno. I hope their stans liked it and are satisfied getting to see them kiss and have sex and be together and I wouldn't downplay the significance of The Couple in Arcane being a lesbian couple. But I wasn't personally very compelled or moved by it.

Jinx

Like the above I'm not a Jinx academic by any means but I think if I were I would be frustrated by how cyclical her arc was in season 2. And no, having Silco show up to be like "it's a cycle" doesn't really justify the narrative interludes. Isha is a hard sell of a character for me because I don't ... generally want little kid characters around ... and I found Jinx (basically) looking straight into the camera to say "gee you are just like me, Powder, when I was a little kid, which reminds me of being Powder, is this how Silco felt, is this how Vi felt" to be hamfisted. But some of the scenes with the two of 'em and Sevika were cute ... only for Isha to die and Jinx to be depressed, again, and then come through the other side, again, and then "die", again. Like if we wanted to deal with depressed Jinx we started off s2 that way...

I've seen other posts by Jinx fans that articulate much better the ways in which she goes from the driving plot force in s1 and main autonomous actor to just kind of being wafted around by plot in season 2 so I won't repeat them. But I think they are right. I also question the way her mental illness was portrayed -- or rather wasn't... -- in season 2. Powder in the AU showing no sign of illness (despite baby Powder in the main timeline already having some of that going on, pre-Vander death)... I mean, sure, she's got a support system etc in that world, and one can argue we don't spend enough time with AU Powder to necessarily see it, but combined with the Isha stuff it just kind of felt like a weird message.

Sevika

I love Sevika, one of my faves from s1. I was so excited she seemed to get a bigger role in act 1 and then in the first ep of act 2. And then she never spoke again. What the hell man... like damn... really?????!? Not a WORD in act 3? I'm sure this was some of the stuff they trimmed to get that finale down to 50 minutes but god that sucks, so much, in ways a wordless shot of her in the council chamber can't really resolve. Which leads me to

Piltover-Zaun

I have to admit I don't think the class politics in s1 are as good as they were reported to be, so I didn't have high hopes, but MAN is Piltover going "hey we need cannon fodder <3 thanks" not... a reasonable resolution... especially after an indeterminate time of Piltover being EVEN MORE oppressive with Caitlyn enforcing martial law. It was sooooooooo ridiculous. Also, lol @ the show acting like hextech is solely responsible for the suffering of the undercity. If only Vi, Jayce and Viktor weren't around we'd have a equitable utopia. Sure Jan.

Sky

One of the most offensively written female characters I've seen in recent media. A spectacular, zero-effort failure from the writers. What a horrible decision to write this poor girl, a Black woman no less, and give her absolutely no characterization outside of an unrequited crush on a gay white man. In season 1 I could forgive most of it because a show like Arcane needs redshirts and it's just unfortunate they made this particular redshirt a young Black woman. There are so many other complex and developed women in the show, I thought, they can afford to have some minor ones who aren't.

But oh my god season 2. The ghost hallucination which they never even clarify as being "really" Sky or just being the Hexcore or just being his own imagination of guilt because neither the show nor Viktor give enough of a fuck to explain fhglakhdglh. Even posthumously she barely has any dialogue except to reference off-screen conversations with Viktor we never see them have and then die again. "No you won't" ?????? It is ridiculous that they wrote this.

[girlfriendsofthegalaxy]

tuesday again no problem 11/26/2024

i don't have a good anecdote this week, i have the flu. look at my cat

listening

ty @shinygoodrock for the rec! billy bragg's the marching song of the covert. i was startled by the british accent but briefly forgot the uk's been colonizing way longer than god's favorite country, the usa

so SO cheery and so catchy! samples When The Ants Go Marching In!

Here we come with our candy and our guns And our corporate muscle marches in behind us For freedom's just another word for nothing left to sell And if you want narcotics we can get you those as well

it reminds me a lot of this poster i have framed but not hung up yet, jesse purcell's "A.G.F.T.P.O.T.U.S.O.A. (A Gift From The People Of The United States Of America)" (getcher own print at the link through justseeds)

-

reading

my favorite tinned fish newsletter is back! i like this newsletter for its dry anecdotal voice, but i coincidentally have a tin of mackerel in tomato sauce in the pantry for mackintosh name reasons. seems like the best way to have it is fairly plain with some light seasonings. the author was a senior editor at vice and has been out of work for a bit since that site's collapse, so it's good to see him back doing silly free nonsense like his tinned fish newsletter

i had Dreadful by Caitlin Rozakis on hold for nearly six months so it extra hurt when i didn't particularly care for it.

like, what a premise! a beautifully written blurb that got my attention! i think i got an ad for this one on instagram. either that or it was floating around on this site.

A sharp-witted, high fantasy farce featuring killer moat squid, toxic masculinity, evil wizards and a garlic festival - all at once. Perfect for fans of T. Kingfisher, K. J. Parker and Travis Baldree. It’s bad enough waking up in a half-destroyed evil wizard’s workshop with no eyebrows, no memories, and no idea how long you have before the Dread Lord Whomever shows up to murder you horribly and then turn your skull into a goblet or something. It’s a lot worse when you realize that Dread Lord Whomever is… you. Gav isn’t really sure how he ended up with a castle full of goblins, or why he has a princess locked in a cell. All he can do is play along with his own evil plan in hopes of getting his memories back before he gets himself killed. But as he realizes that nothing – from the incredibly tasteless cloak adorned with flames to the aforementioned princess – is quite what it seems, Gav must face up to all the things the Dread Lord Gavrax has done. And he’ll have to answer the hardest question of all – who does he want to be? Dread Lord Gavrax has had better weeks.

this is a debut novel based on a friendgroup's DnD campaign, and it does show a bit. maybe you have a friend who’s freshly into improv? it gets a little wrapped up in Doing Bits. at several points i did think “i could be reading terry pratchett right now instead of enduring this bit.”

the writing itself is solid on a technical level-- there's a good balance of dialogue to description, no word choices really slammed me in the face, it flowed pretty nicely and was a fast read. flounders a bit in the middle but does pick up speed, a middling-okay pacing. if this were not a debut novel and felt a little bit more done on purpose i would be interested in talking about how the frantic lunge from plot point to plot point mirrors our protag's internal sense of self.

i do not think this rises to the level of farce, or even pastiche. it is a darkly comedic but fairly straightforward fantasy. very light PG romance elements.

so much of it is concerned with perceptions/expectations/visual tropes and then the big baddie is simply a baddie with no further interrogation. like a lot A LOT of philosophical musings on the nature of evil and the expectations thereof creating self image and morality and has unionized goblins. everything else in this book is questioned. you can’t go halfway with a deconstruction or you’re just writing more of the genre you’re trying to deconstruct. there was a scene that really clicked satisfyingly in my brain with a female sorceress, where she goes basically everyone expects me to be a bitch and a whore so let's just cut to the chase and have fun being a bitch and a whore. this alternate viewpoint of misogyny making you evil does not successfully contrast with our protag's internal calibration and view of evil but damn if that isn't the experience of being a woman in stem.

the protagonist, gav, wakes up with No memories and thereby becomes Good. or at least Better. does rozakis feel that everyone is born good and your reactions to things happening to you shape your morality? there's a reveal that one of the murders amnesiac!gav is most torn up about didn't actually happen bc his staff faked it and smuggled her out. i think this seriously undercuts the moderate amount of thinking and soulsearching and figuring out how to atone for past actions he does previously. and then it doesn’t really address any of the problems it tangled with in favor of a movie ending. it did tread a bit into therapyspeak for me. fewer shades of gray than i would have liked.

this book is also extremely heterosexual for what i expect a modern comedy fantasy to be. it neatly sidesteps the gay=/= evil conundrum but it was startling to find our protagonist with not even a curious homosexual thought.

occasionally irritating, but it was funny, except when it had to unfold some plot and forgot about being funny. this was a perfectly pleasantly written debut novel but wasn’t quite what i wanted or expected. it tries a lot of things and it’s interesting to watch the rube goldberg machine of a plot work and fail in some parts, even if it really did not carry through on its central philosophy.

-

watching

breezing through a lot of stuff bc it's easier to sleep propped up on my couch arm than in my actual bed. i usually don’t long DNFs but has to remind myself never to try Quo Vadis again. my god is that a tiresome film. and not even pretty costumes or pretty set design for the first forty minutes. whereupon i bailed. all of these were first time watches, dunno why I haven’t been reaching for comfort movies lately

-

playing

genshin update knocking it out of the park and also really reminding me of link tearsofthekingdom. also introduces a really good bird you can possess and fly around with. lots of vertical sky/coastline exploration which is so so so fun. i have done most of the things in this update inside a week bc i don't think they anticipated unemployed people like mainlining it between applying for jobs.

this girl's village has background music that reminds me of classic american westerns like bernstein or copland? heavy billy the kid ballet vibes. the music in this update is SO good im excited to yell about it in an future week when they drop the next album.

-

making

still fallow baybee. currently incubating the influenza. no longer feverish thank u nyquil

[bustybounty]

You thought it'd be funny to spike the punch bowl with a bit of growth hormones and seeing everyone squirm in their tightening clothes during prom, but your class' bully spotted you. She took the bowl and made constant eyecontact while chugging the entire thing. She wasn't gonna let you leave prom early until she had her fun,though with the libido enhancers that were in the punch aswell, that might take a while.

Turns out I never felt more attracted to that bully of mine than now. She quickly went from someone I didn't like to someone I was actively making love with, as she literally got taller, hornier, wetter, making a puddle all over her swelling, lengthening legs, not to mention growing thicker and curvier all around, this growth hormone being potent enough, and in such quantities due to how much she drank, that she was literally blowing all her clothes up into smithereens, into tiny scraps of cloth that no one would care to clean up.

Sure enough this party, with the high libidos running rampant, would turn into something more akin to an orgy, with all these men and women testing their new swollen bodies on each other, especially on whoever they took to prom, but not limited to just them, depending on the pairing... foursomes were very notably there, as everything became confused, surprised, and finally devolved into pure, untapped debauchery that would be unreachable, even for this place's levels, without some form of arousal boosting compound.

I didn't expect it to be this strong, and while I was aware of the high libido it caused, I didn't think they'd all turn to fuck each other, not caring they were in public, as everyone else was practically suffering the same fate as them...

While I didn't take any of the drink, not wanting to prank myself, my own libido was obscenely large and made up for it as it was probably ten times higher than the normal sexual needs for anyone in the building before they 'transformed'.

Watching my former bully become this tall, beautiful, amazonian-esque, voluptuous, curvaceous, bodacious, delicious woman was making ME very noticeably horny down there as well.

With her pressing me against the wall, her tits smothering me, I knew this was just the beginning of how she'd dominate me, put my body through the ropes for an entire night, if not longer, making this experience even more worthwile than it would be if it had only resulted in some embarrassed chaos like I initially expected.

Though now was no time to think of it, as my mind was going blank with the first of many orgasms this massive, still swelling bully was giving me, she truly was bullying my nervous system by bombarding it with too much pleasure at once, something even my horny levels struggled to handle...

Damn...I'm gonna start pulling this prank at every single reunion I have from now on... <3

[mundanneman]

CSM 185 Review

Chainsaw chapter 185 begins with what is possibly the most unbiased presentation of the Aging Devil by Fujimoto. It is nothing more than him voicing his thoughts out loud. We know everything he says is something he is contemplating. The gap between his words when monologuing about not giving the world an exit showcases this.

Furthermore, he nonchalantly mentions how he did not give this world an exit, implying he created this world. The readers of this manga can easily speculate something like that. The terrifying part is how casual he is about this.

The scenery changes in every panel for the reader. It reminds them of how many people have been thrown into this world. It gives weight to Aging's words that follow about nobody succeeding in escaping. The terrified expression of the treed person is possibly one of the more brilliant additions. Even after a thousand or two thousand years, there is no peace for the damned. This world is presented as a place where you can be detached. Yet, there is no rest for the damned.

Based on his words, either he did not create this world with an end goal in mind, or if he did, it never reached that point because people turned into trees. I am not completely on board with the idea that it is just a natural fate but I will not deny that possibility. It could very well be a side effect of Ageing's ability. After all, there have been theories and discussions pretty frequently about how humanity could progress if they were immortal; if they could beat the bane of old age. Who is to say that such a fate will be desirable? After all, the people trapped in this world did reach an answer. The answer they chose presumably allowed them to get as close to stopping their suffering as much as possible.

When the devil talks about the what-if, the speech bubble comes from the old age face which has closed its eyes. When it talks about what it wants, it comes from the youthful and blind face. In my opinion, its eyes are closed because it has turned its eyes away from the possibility of the potentially bleak realities that it faces. On the other hand, the energetic youth is too blinded by its desires.  The fact that ageing does not have an attachment to life comes into play here. At the same time, it makes his motives. 

To showcase its resolve, the cost dialogue is written in a close-up manner with a bigger font size. 

When we finally see ageing, almost poetically, it's looking down on what has grown old, remaining in shadows as light falls on the old man. Ageing's light falls on its back while its front is covered in shadows, showcasing his current state and desires and the gap between them. His emotional state is visible through the distorted speech bubbles. Ageing is unmoved. It cannot sympathise or empathise. 

Similar to a few chapters ago, it continues to look down on the youth it claims to support.

Surprisingly, Ageing conveniently does not mention a thing about the person who supposedly escaped.  This is just my headcanon but it could relate to the Fakesaw Man.

We finally get to see Asa make a weapon without an ability; without help from Yoru. She is holding it together through sheer will. Her distorted speech bubble indicates she is not calm. But, she got the job done. Nobody predicted Denji would eat someone who has already given up on their life. He takes advantage of the mechanism of this world in a manner that you would expect from a foolhardy youth.

Pochita saved Denji from his heart disease and saved him from dying to the zombie devil; he took over when he could no longer go on. However, what saved him this time was Denji. The current actions of this duo are separated. One acts as Denji and one as Chainsaw Man. This reminds me of a partnership as compared to the past when Denji was trying to become the Chainsaw Man.

Interestingly, even though Denji only transforms into Black Chainsaw Man when he can no longer go on, this time, even though he is back on his feet, Pochita remains in his Black Saw form. The engine roars and he gets back up, but the one who makes his engine roar is Denji, as he gets ready for a fight with the primal fear.

[sofiatexa]

lara raj x sophia laforteza

cw ; fluff , established relationship (girlfriends) , cuddling , kissing , nicknames often (sophia calling lara them) , lara gives a lot of physical affection , etc maybe??

synopsis ; a rainy day interrupts sophia’s plans to have a date outside with lara so she decides to make the best of what she can do inside with her.

wc ; 1.3k

—

@lararaajj : i miss youuu (09:37 am) —

she texted her girlfriend when she woke up that morning. lara stayed in her family home for a while, away from the girls. her and sophia haven’t been able to find the right time to meet up due to both of them having personal family reasons.

today they both were free, expecting to be able to take that short drive down to lara’s house and take her on a all day planning, or thats what they wanted to do.

@sophia_laforteza : miss you moreee :/ (9:38 am.) — sophia replied, she loved talking to lara, obviously because she was the love of her life and lara was her comfort, and so was she to the redhead. they talked a while longer before lara asked her to come over, but when sophia was done getting dressed it began to rain.

@lararaajj : nevermind baby, it's raining. it isn't safe to drive rn (1:15 pm) - she texted the older, expecting her to reply but she never recieved one, for a good ten minutes, which made her think she was probably still getting ready or just not on her phone, read at (1:25 pm), lara saw that sophia had seen her message but she never got a text back.

she tried calling sophia, but with no answer. then her doorbell rang, she got up from her bed, slipping her tshirt on, not knowing who was at the door, and opened it. to lara's surprise it was her girlfriend, standing with her grey hoodie on and with some legos and her nintendo.

lara hugged the older, and pulled her inside. "you idiot! why did you still comeee?" lara asked as she continued pulling the older against her body, inhaling her scent. sophia had a stupid smile on her face, "well, i missed you and why don't we have a day in this time? i mean, the soft pours of rain outside with some calming music with my favorite person playing games and building legos sounds amazing"

sophia said as she hugged lara, "and you smell so nice today" she whispered against lara's shirt. the redhead smiled, loving the sweet words from her girlfriends mouth. "i love you soph" she said, "i love you more lara" they finally broke apart the hug

lara held sophia's hand, leading her upstairs to her room so they could be left alone for a while. sophia put her things down on lara's desk, and went to lay beside the redhead.

pulling her into a soft embrace, and lara sighed, "you're really warm" the redhead spoke, and sophia chuckled "well, it's 50 degrees and you have on a cropped t-shirt baby" and lara pouted, "stilllll"

sophia smiled and kissed her forehead, leaving her lipstick stain on her. "you're so cute" sophia whispered, and took off her hoodie, putting it on the redhead.

a small while passed until they began picking what they wanted to do together. lara picked the legos, seeing that sophia picked the ones that had lara's interests in them.

lara picked the ones she wanted to do the most, "okay, what song do you wanna listen to sweetie?" the black haired woman asked, the redhead shrugged her shoulders, "whatever you think fits the mood better" and sophia nodded, turning on a more calming playlist, starting with 'Rainy Days - V'

lara sat in sophia's lap and poured the legos out of the bag, pulling the instructions from beside sophia and they began putting them together in silence, but it wasn't a awkward one, it was much more comfortable than anything.

the actual soft droplets of rain hitting lara's window, the soothing voice of the singers along with lara's as she sung along to whatever song played, sophia harmonizing with her ever so often. they got so caught up in the legos they didn't realize three hours had already passed, the pair really didn't notice until sophia checked her phone to change the playlist.

it wasn't like those three hours passing was really an issue, they didn't really care about that part, they cared more about finishing this set which they were amost done with, that was the case until, lara accidently knocked over the other bag and mixed the pieces with the bag they were currently on.

"oh my god!" they both shrieked, sophia cloed her eyes and sighed, while lara laughed the pain away. "its okay, its okay" she said, trying to keep herself from screaming. she and sophia began to pick up the legos and saying they'll finish them tomorrow.

lara pulled the redhead by her waist once they were and grabbed her nintendo off of the desk, and lara and sophia laid in bed together while soph flipped through and the game cards, until lara saw she had zelda.

"oh my god, oh my god wait" lara said, picking up the game chip, "let's play this!" she exclaimed. sophia put the chip and started the game, lara rested her head on the black hair woman's chest, and watched as she playd the game.

"i don't really understand much about this game, aside from the characters" sophia admitted, and lara began explaining how the game worked but stopped talking at a certain point, "why'd you stop talking baby?" sophia asked after pausing the game, lara's face was a little red.

"m embarrased" she said, and sophia picked her head up and kissed her, "don't be embarrased baby, you can talk about your interests with me. i love listening to you talk, i love watching you get excited when it's your favorite things ever." lara's eyes sparkled while sophia named things she loved about her and lara slightly teared up due to feeling overwhelmed.

sophia sat up and pulled the redhead into another hug, holding her head and gently playing in her hair, "shh, it's okay.." she softly said, "i love you baby, you're so perfect in my eyes" she kissed her head, and lara sighed, calming down.

sophia made lara comfortable before offering her to play zelda herself and sophia just watching, which lara happily did. she played the game for about a hour, before turning it off, and asking if they could just watch something. the rain had stopped not too long ago, but sophia wasn't gonna leave just because it stopped raining.

lara brought her bean bag out and pushed it to the middle of her room, her and soph both sitting on the bean bag, lara resting her head on sophia's shoulder while they watched lara's comfort show, 'wild kratts'

soon the sun began to set, the moonlight shining from her windows, lara's eyes began to grow heavy, sophia noticing and laying the younger on her chest, and laying back on the bed. she placed her hand on the redheads side, lara fell asleep not long after.

sophia didn't move until lara was fully sleep, getting up and cleaning the legos off of her floor and putting the nintendo back inside of the case. sophia closed her curtains, and got in lara's bed, pulling the cover over both of them.

it didn't take much longer for the black haired woman to fall asleep, the feeling of sleeping in silence wasn't too comfortable to her, so she put on some small noise, maybe a song, turning the screen off, muting both hers and lara's phone so they can sleep without any interruptions. she kissed lara's forehead once more, pulling her by her waist and sleeping just like that.

[gugugyuu]

clingy bonus part three/oneshot ੈ𑁍 ༘⋆📚🎀

a/n: probably the cutest one!

You always knew how to hide your feelings.

Even though you'd fallen for Beomgyu, you kept it under wraps for a long time. You were careful with your words, the way you looked at him, even how you touched him.

It wasn't like you were playing hard to get it was more like you were afraid of showing just how much you cared because you didn't expect him to fall for you too, at least not at first.

But somehow, somewhere along the way, things changed. Beomgyu saw through your walls, and just like that, you were no longer the only one with feelings hidden under the surface.

And now... well, now things are different.

You two had been officially together for a few months, and the shift in your relationship had been subtle but undeniable.

Beomgyu had always been affectionate, but now it was like he couldn't get enough of you. He was clingier, always close by, his hand resting on your thigh when you were sitting together, his arm wrapped around your waist when you stood.

The kisses, God, the kisses. They are everywhere. In the hallways between classes, in the cafeteria when no one was watching, on the couch when you were just watching a movie.

Right now, he was beside you on the couch, his head resting on your shoulder as you scrolled through your phone. You didn't mind. In fact, you loved it.

"I think I like this movie," you said, glancing down at him.

"Mhm, I like it too," he mumbled, his lips brushing against your shoulder as he spoke.

You rolled your eyes, trying to suppress a smile. "You're not even watching."

"I'm watching you," he said with a playful grin, lifting his head to press a soft kiss to your neck. "You're way more interesting."

You couldn't stop the smile that broke out on your face. Beomgyu was like this now, always kissing you, always finding some excuse to be close to you.

He moved so that his body was half draped over yours, his face nestled into the crook of your neck. His lips left soft, lingering kisses along your skin as he snuggled closer, wrapping his arms around your waist.

"Beomgyu," you whispered, gently pushing him back so you could look at him.

"Hmm?" His eyes were half-lidded, and he had that goofy, contented smile on his face.

"You're being clingy," you teased, though you secretly loved it.

He let out a dramatic sigh, resting his forehead against yours. "What can I say? I just love you too much."

You rolled your eyes again, but it was more out of affection than annoyance. "You always say that."

"I mean it every time," he murmured, his hand reaching up to cup your face. His thumb traced over your lips, and before you could respond, he kissed you.

It was gentle at first, soft, but then he deepened it, leaning into you as his hands roamed to your waist, pulling you even closer to him. You felt your heart flutter in your chest as he kissed you with a quiet urgency, as if he couldn't get enough of you, like you were the only thing that mattered in that moment.

When Beomgyu pulled away, his eyes were darker, more intense. His breath was heavy, and there was a certain vulnerability in his gaze that made your chest tighten. "Beomgyu..."

"I'm sorry," he said, though his tone didn't sound apologetic at all. "I just... I can't help it. I need to be close to you."

You felt the weight of his words, his need for you, and it made your heart ache. This was the side of Beomgyu that only you got to see, the part of him that didn't hold back, the part that might've fell harder than you ever imagined.

He kissed you again, more desperately this time, his hands tangling in your hair as he pulled you closer, if that was even possible. You didn't pull away, didn't fight it.

You'd fallen first, yes, but now, it felt like he was falling harder than you ever thought he would.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. "I love you," he whispered. You smiled, feeling the warmth of his words. "I love you too."

And for the first time in a long while, you didn't feel like you had to hide it anymore. Because Beomgyu had fallen for you, and he's not holding anything back.

a/n: she fell first but he fell harder.

<previous part> <back to masterlist>

[lilac-hecox]

hi! do you think you would write ianthony sharing clothes? thank you!

Ian/Anthony - ianthony - Sharing clothes

--

“Ian,” Courtney begins.

Ian looks at her from where he’s pouring his coffee, standing at the counter in the kitchen of the Smosh office.

Courtney’s waiting for her frozen breakfast to cook in the microwave and as she waits, her eyes scan him, head to toe. Ian nervously touches the corner of his mouth, wiping at his face just in case he has any remnants of the gluten-free muffin he had eaten for breakfast when he arrived at the office.

“What’s up?” Ian asks because he can’t handle Courtney’s surveying gaze any longer.

“Is that…isn’t that Anthony’s shirt you’re wearing?” she asks, biting her lip, her voice low, but there is a clear sense of amusement in her eyes.

Ian looks down at himself.

Fuck.

The shirt he’s wearing is, in fact, Anthony’s. They’ve been spending so much time at each other’s places, sleeping over, that it’s natural that their possessions are missing. Anthony had a dedicated drawer in the dresser in Ian’s bedroom, but Ian hadn’t pulled this t-shirt from that drawer this morning. He had plucked it from his closet. Sure, he had noticed the shirt was a bit baggier than usual, but Ian attributed it to him eating more vegan meals to align with Anthony’s dinners.

Courtney must note Ian’s wide eyes before he can school his features into something more composed. She’s got a sly little smile on her face like she’s a cat that got the cream. Ian wills himself not to flush or really even react more than he already has. He clears his throat.

“Uh, no, I think this is mine. We must have gotten the same one. You know that happened in high school all the time.”

It’s not a very convincing lie but it’s all Ian’s got because neither he nor Anthony is ready to reveal their newfound relationship and how it has evolved into something beyond friendship and into a firmly romantic territory.

“Well,” Courtney says. She reaches out and adjusts the collar on the t-shirt, smoothing down the fabric on the shoulders. “It looks good on you.” She winks, thankfully taking mercy on him and not dragging out her questions or suspicions.

Ian adds his minimal sweetener to his coffee, plucking out a spoon from the drawer and stirring his coffee until it shifts from a deep black into a pale tan.

Anthony is at the office today and it isn’t too long before Ian finds him in their shared office. Ian slinks inside and shuts the door with a sigh.

“What’s up?” Anthony asks, looking up at Ian from his computer. “Coffee troubles?”

“Why didn’t you tell me I put on your shirt this morning?” Ian asks.

Anthony raises an eyebrow and then scans over Ian. He laughs brightly and fondly.

“Shit, you did, huh?”

“Yes, and Courtney absolutely noticed.”

Anthony doesn’t look nearly as panicked by this information as Ian happens to feel.

“Okay, well, it was just Courtney. She likes fashion, of course she noticed.”

“How do I reasonably explain why I’m wearing your shirt?”

“You don’t tell them it’s my shirt,” Anthony says.

Ian goes and sits at his desk, setting his cup of coffee down on the desk.

“I told her we owned the same one.”

“So,” Anthony says, amusement on his face, “I gotta buy a second one?”

Ian laughs, “I guess so. Unfortunately for both of us, our styles are pretty opposite so when one of us is wearing the others clothes…it’s noticeable. I don’t think anyone expects me to wear a Junji Ito shirt.”

“Tell them I influenced you. You know, the way you and Shayne own the same shirt.”

“Well, no one is going to think I’m dating Shayne since he and Court hard launched their marriage.”

Anthony shrugs, “You could be their third.”

Ian wrinkles his nose. “Don’t ever say that to me again. They’re like our kids at this point.”

Anthony laughs, “Our married kids.”

Ian shakes his head, “You’re so stupid, dude.”

“Not stupid enough to wear my boyfriend’s shirt to work,” Anthony mumbles, sipping his protein drink he typically has for breakfast.

Ian groans. “Okay, new rule. We’re establishing a ‘fit check’ before we come to the office from now on.”

Anthony wipes his mouth and sets the protein drink on the low coffee table in front of him and grins.

“Maybe I like you wearing my shirts.”

“Anthony,” Ian says warningly.

Anthony shrugs, “What can I say? I do. You look good in them. It makes me feel like a part of me is with you all day.”

“You sappy fuck,” Ian teases.

“Hey, you knew this about me when we reunited,” Anthony says with a shrug.

Ian abandons his coffee and moves across the interior of his office, going to drop on to the couch next to Anthony. He tucks himself against Anthony’s side.

“Yeah, I did.”

Anthony’s hand reaches out and runs down the line of Ian’s back, warm and comforting.

“Let ‘em talk,” Anthony says, as he draws Ian in and presses their lips together in a sweet kiss.

[dioles-writes]

• WRITING SHARE TAG •

Masterlist | Full fic | Characters: Felix (he/him), Paisley (she/they/he)

Credits to @jiphenn

Felix looked over, and for a second, time stopped.

Paisley.

They stood in front of a pile of monsters, their back turned to him, but it was definitely her. His hair wasn’t the purple that it had been the last time he had seen them, instead a gentle blue, but Felix would’ve recognized her anywhere.

“PAISLEY!” He screamed, loud enough that it could have been heard back at the Mansion. He shoved past Akali and Una, forgetting about January, about Rory, about the monsters that were swarming them. Forgetting about what they were fleeing from. Nothing else in the world mattered to him at that moment, all except that she was okay. That she was alive.

He tackled her in a hug from behind, grinning from ear to ear.

Paisley didn’t turn to face him. They stood there for a second before elbowing him harshly. “Get off of me.”

Felix’s smile started to fade. “Huh?”

“You have someplace to be. Hurry up and go.” They turned around to look at him for the first time in five months, but when they stared down at Felix, it wasn’t their familiar look of gentle kindness that he had come to expect. Instead, he stared at him like he was nothing but a bug. Nothing but an annoyance.

“Paisley?”

“Didn’t you hear me?” He started walking away.

This was all wrong. This was all wrong.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. Paisley was supposed to hug him back; she was supposed to turn to him with a soft smile, eyes gentle and kind. And then Felix would apologize a million times over. He’d tell her everything, starting from all the way back in September, starting from his very day at school. And Paisley was going to cup his face, her hands rough against his cheeks, and give him this look that meant “it’s okay”.

And he would knew it would be. Because it was Paisley, and as long as he had her and Reagan then everything would end up fine.

Everything was going to be fine.

“Paisley, wait!” He grabbed his arm, tears welling up in his eyes. “I’m so, so sorry. Please don’t be mad. I’ve missed you so much. I’m sorry I lied, I promise I’ll explain everything as soon as we get out of here.”

“I told you to get off!” Paisley snarled. He punched Felix, sending him to the ground.

Felix looked up at her in shock. “Paisley please, I just wanna go home. Please don’t go.” His voice cracked.

“I’m no longer a part of your home, so don’t make it sound like I’m going there with you.” Her dark eyes swirled, the gray contrasting against the black. Her gaze made him feel so incredibly small. No one had ever looked at him like he was such a disappointment, like he was so… insignificant. But especially not Paisley. He was sure this had to be an imposter. This couldn’t actually be her standing in front of him, because Paisley would never say that. Paisley would never look at him like that.

It couldn’t be her. It couldn’t be her.

“You are! You are.” Felix shakily got to his feet again, looking at her desperately and reaching out with trembling hands. “I’m so sorry. I’ll fix things, I promise. I was just trying to protect you.”

They slapped him, their jewelry raking across his face. His mouth was filled with a metallic taste, which was oh so familiar, but never from Paisley. He reached up to touch his burning cheek, looking at them with wide eyes. “You’re nothing but a burden.” They spat. “You always have been and always will be.”

She punched him in the face again, just as hard, if not harder, than the first time. But the calmness in her voice stayed unwavering. “You’re always making sorry excuses and promises you can’t keep.”

“I’m sorry.” Tears slipped down Felix’s cheeks, hot and salty. His chin wouldn’t stop trembling. “I’m so sorry, I promise I’ll be better. I can- I can control my powers now. Just let me fix things.” His voice didn’t sound right. It was whiny and shaking, as much as he tried to force it not to be. He swallowed hard, trying to push down the lump in his throat, trying to look up at Paisley, trying to make her see that he was sorry. He was so, so, sorry.

They grabbed Felix by a clump of his hair, pulling him up to his feet again so that his face was only inches away from theirs. “There’s nothing to fix, we aren’t family anymore.” He said in a low voice, staring at him with a hollow gaze. His eyes burned with a pure hatred that shouldn’t have been there - not on Paisley - as she punched him to the ground again.

Felix choked out a broken sob. “Please, I’m so sorry. Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have left.”

She kicked Felix on the ground, the heel of her boot connecting with his stomach harshly, making him cough and gag. “I don’t know why your sister wasted her life for someone as pathetic as you.”

“I’m sorry, please, don’t go. I’m so, so sorry.” Felix stared at her pleadingly. She had been the only person he could think about for over two months. The one person that he had searched endlessly to see. He would’ve given anything to know that she was okay, to have her at his side again. He would have given anything. He couldn’t even recall the amount of times he’d asked Haven about her, just begging to hear about them. And now here they were, standing before him, alive.

And all they could do is stare at him like he was the last person they would ever want to see. Like he was the root of all their problems.

Like he wasn’t their son.

“I don’t know why I stuck around all those years. I wish I never signed those papers.” She said coldly. She gave him another well-placed kick, this time in the face, and his nose started to gush blood, his face stinging all over in pain.

“I love you.” Felix sobbed harder. “Please, forgive me. We can just go home. I just want to go home.”

“There’s no home for us to go to together.” Paisley kicked him more violently than before, no longer holding back. Little bursts of pain shot up his body for every time her foot came back down, but he couldn’t make himself move. He couldn’t make himself do anything other than stare at her, silently begging for her to please, understand. Begging for her to just take him home. Just take me home.

“There is, there is. Please don’t say that.” He begged. “Please.”

Paisley delivered one final kick, a million times rougher than the past ones, before squatting down and yanking Felix’s hair, forcing him to look in her eyes. “We’re no longer family. You’re nothing but a stranger to me.” They shoved his head into the ground, hard enough to make his ears ring. Felix sobbed harder, wretching and coughing as she forced him down.

Slowly, she stood back up, keeping their harsh gaze on Felix’s curled up and shaking body for a second longer. He could feel their eyes sweeping over him, filled with nothing but loathing and disgust. She turned her back to him, stepping over his sprawled out limbs, and began to walk away. She didn’t respond to his cries, to his begging, to his pleading apologies, simply leaving him to sob on the ground.

Alone.

ty @seastarblue for the tag ^^

[mintmatcha]

his favorite was the architect, he thinks. he's got deep brown eyes and a smile like an apple slice, with lips that taste just as tart.

he was only thirty at the time (only thirty, as if he isn't well into adulthood)

"I'm sorry," his smile wasn't as crisp as it usually is. "I think you're a great guy."

The compliment didn't dampen the blow. Aizawa sat there, gripping the marbled edge of his apartment's countertop, face neutral. He finds silence makes people to stupid things; the architect kept talking.

"The surgery: it's a lot to handle," he explained. "We've only been dating for a couple months, it's just so soon."

Ten, to be specific. Aizawa still doesn't say anything, and it pulls more and more from his mouth.

"Come on, Shouta. I-- You're asking a lot. I didn't sign up to be a caretaker."

"I don't need you to be a caretaker." He's already lost the war, but Aizawa needs to defend his honor. "I've done this before."

He's an expert at it all by now. The lavender stench of hospital cleaner is ingrained into his nose, so deep that he tastes it in his dreams.

"I mean, come on, Shouta, the healing time alone is longer than we've been together. It's not like we could go for hikes-" They've never hiked. "Or out to a club, or, or- you'll be in a wheelchair for months."

It's another revision surgery, to help the prosthetic sit better and hopefully end that phantom pain that's been clamping his leg for the past ten years. In theory, on the other side, he'll be more active than ever.

(It doesn't happen. The pain dims, but never dies.)

"You really expect me to stop living my life? To just sit in this apartment with you and just, what? Be quiet?"

Aizawa rubs where his thigh meets silicone. "So, you'd rather me sit alone."

This time, the architect is silent.

Different anon but for aizawa and terrible dates, what are some of the other reasons or professions of the other dates?

He really hasnt dated a lot. there was a teacher, an architect, someone from Mic and Nemuri's club, and a fellow engineer-

most of the time it's because he's lonely. he'd NEVER admit it, but he's getting older, his house is quiet...

sometimes, it's to try and move on.

[nightthinker-08]

lil DOS2 rant?

Le sighhhhhh Finally finished DOS2 again, and I do adore this game a lot and has easily become my favorite. I love the combat of the game and the implementation of magical and physical armor really makes you think on your builds and strategies. And I know some might disagree cuz not a lot like turn based combat apparently? The story is so rich from start to finish, absolutely no parts of it bored me. The dialogues are fun and witty, catching me off gaurd and making me laugh way more than I thought it would. And the characters are so well written, you fall in love with almost all of them, especially the origin characters and the people you sail with in Lady Vengeance. But for all that praise, whenever I think of the romance in the game I can't help but feel its more than a little lacking. I love the characters to death I, wouldn't've have played the game twice already and have over 200+ hours on it if I didn't- but interactions with them are so few and far between. You don't even have one quiet moment with them. Well... I mean you do get one moment alone with them, but to call it a quiet one would be so... hilariously untrue for a number of reasons Anyway me being me took the little romance I can get in stride on my first play through, thinking "oh if I progress their quest they give me important dialogue!" So I focused a lot on the one person I wanted to romance (it was Sebille) and absolutely eating up any romantic dialogue that pops up (most of them catching me off gaurd cuz again we didn't talk much through out our journey and suddenly she's cozying up on me-). Only to have missed a lot in my first playthrough (not really a big complaint cuz I like you can do a lot of different things to get to the same point), and accidentally not progress one of my companions stories and have a small betrayal at the end. But then by the end of it all, while the ending I got was mostly happy, the ending I had with my chosen partner was absolutely bittersweet. While yes- I did make a lot of mistakes in my first game cuz I had no idea what the hell I was doing :D So it could absolutely be chalked up to me just missing a lot of key things to ensure a better ending with us. Hence why I played it twice in a row, and believe me I missed A LOT especially in forth joy, the first chapter. I tried my best to be as thorough as I can. Exploring every inch of them map, talking to almost every NPC I come in contact with, finishing every quest in my log book, talking more instead of fighting to get more dialogue. And while I can safely say I was absolutely more thorough this time round, I'm pretty sure I still missed a few things. Its a long ass game- there are a lot you need to keep track of, and I can be very forgetful. But I think I completed well enough to know this is the general scope of what an average player—or maybe not even averege, but a slightly more avid player—would get. So what did I get after all that? Well... Roughly the same ending with only minor differences... Was the entire game more different the 2nd time round cuz I knew what I was doing and found a lot of new and cool things through out that gave it more charm? 100%! Without a doubt! Did the companion I got together with get a happier ending? Also yes. But am I still a bit disappointed at romance and how that side plot ended? Sadly yes. Spoilers below for people who haven't played or haven't gotten to the end game.

So somewhere in the late game there's a choice to have Sebille rooted into the mother tree, I dont want to have to overly explain it but it basically bounding her to elven duties for the rest of her days and also she turns in a a tree once she dies :'Dc. Now I was an idiot and actually rooted her even when I had 2nd thought on it cuz I thought that was just her duty. And bit me in the ass at the end and was mostly what made the ending so bittersweet for me. She wasnt free yet we still loved each other so we had to part ways. Of course she said she'd always love me and never forget me before sharing a sweet kiss but it was still sad... Me being the simp I am I made a completely new game just to ensure she gets a happy ending (preferably together with my character) and she did and it was nice but... It made the whole end game conversation with her a lot shorter, it wasn't explicitly stated we'd stay together but in the epilogue nothing about our romance was mentioned. She was just happy traveling and living her best life and don't get me wrong- like Go girl! Live your best life! No need to get tied down! But I just wish the bond you form not just with your romance partner but with all your companions didn't feel like such a forgettable chapter of their life. There could have at least been a mention where at least one, or preferably all, of your party members would gather to together to meet up every now and again in the new world. Maybe its just makes me sad cuz I thought of my party as being a found family towards each other, so to see them be so ready to leave each other, split off and never talk to each other ever again really pained me. The origin characters are one, if not, my top reason I want to keep coming back to this game and replaying it but every time I just keep thinking of how it all ended, my heart sinks.

Minor complaints up ahead.

Poly? Where poly? No poly?? Give me the ability to romance both Sebille and Lohse you cowards!! so like at the end of my 2nd play through I made a save where one onf them I chose to be the new devine, made ifan sad and was generally a more sad ending- but also made me spilt with Sebille again cuz she was like "can a god mingle with us mortals?" and Im like oh shit so this is the wrong choice. So I reload my save and spread the source to everyone. and this time round it was happy again but she was still like " what happens with us is up to you" Like girl what you mean? We're on even playing field neither of us have responsibilities we're both free, what am I missing here? BUT ALSO SHE DOSENT KISS ME IN THIS ENDING?????? maybe I messed up the dialogue?? She says she wants me and love me but doesnt lean down for a kiss like my save before that or in my first game play either so I was left so confused-

another Sebille centered minor problem, after you kill her master her story kinda just ends there- Like there's nothing for her in Arx at all. And before you say it yes, we meet with Saheila when we get there, she's talking about elves wanting to rise up to start that war. And she just dismisses it and chalks it up to Saheila being insane(which you know true) but that's it? you don't want to figure out why your kin who's been through almost the same things we've been through suddenly underwent an over night change?? you aren't going to talk to the hostile elven people in arx?? People's opinion of you after killing the mother tree/ being prime scion doesn't get touched on here??? It just another one of my little disappointments in her story. She was very prominent at the start but nothing in Arx, which despite being the last chapter is still a long one. So to just have her there with nothing important to progress with her or our romance it just left me a lil bumed :/